All language subtitles for Murder She Wrote S03E17 Simon Says Color Me Dead 1080p BluRay FLAC2 0 H 264-NTb_Subtitles_3

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Well, now that we've finished
carving up the artist,

shall we start on the roast?

Could be we're dealin' with a
theft as well as a murder.

Whatever he was working on
would've been worth a fortune.

Yeah, I feel a deep sense of loss.

You being a woman alone,

I figured maybe you had
somethin' needed fixin'.

Do you suppose
I could take the boy in

and make a home for him?

Tommy needs Irene, his mother.

But there's blood. I cut
myself. It's nothing.

Go back to bed!

Checking to see if any of your books

have been discounted,
Jessica?

Simon, you know, I really
should be annoyed with you.

The season's almost over,
and nary a phone call.

I'm beginning to think
that those stories

about you becoming a recluse are true.

They are. I should know.

I started them myself.

Oh, well, that's no reason
to neglect your friends.

I've been very busy, my girl.
Work, work, and more work.

Dozens of new seascapes

piled up against the studio walls?

A few, but mostly, I've
been reworking one canvas.

Something very special.

Oh.

Jessica!
What a coincidence.

Eleanor.
Ah!

I just came in to buy one of your books.

My books?

I thought I gave you and
Simon a copy of every one.

I was going to phone you.

We really have seen nothing
of each other all summer.

I know.
Don't feel slighted.

She's been ignoring me as well.

Uh... well.

Weekends at the cove are
about all I can manage.

I'm having the duplex redone,
and it's a full-time job,

dealing with the galleries
and the journalists.

I deal with the art,
Eleanor handles the commerce.

[Jessica] Sounds like
a good arrangement.

Otherwise, Simon would never
have any time to paint.

Left to his own devices,
Simon wouldn't see anyone,

which is a situation
I intend to correct.

Would you be free to come over

for a small, informal dinner
party tonight, Jessica?

Oh, my goodness. That sounds
delightful. I'd love to.

Well, which reminds me,

I've got some marketing to do.

Um, eight o'clock?
Elegant casual?

Fine.
Great.

Bye-bye.
Bye-bye.

Oh, and I have got to pop
in and see Amos Tupper

and tell him that the Founders' Day

committee meeting has been postponed.

He'll be heading off for lunch. Goodbye,
Simon.

If you ask me, stealing
another boy's bicycle

is a serious matter, Amos.

Well, now, the way it looks to me...

Tommy didn't steal your
son's bike, he found it.

Where exactly did you find it, Tommy?

Behind the softball field,
in the tall grass.

Oh, guess Rodney must've left it there,
Mrs. Sommers.

You must not have missed it,
'cause we never got a report.

That has nothing to do with it.

The fact that Mrs. Rutledge's
ragamuffin kid here

took it home makes it theft.

Well, it was startin' to rain.

And I didn't want it to get rusty.

With the kind of trash
that's been moving

into Cabot Cove lately,

we're gonna have to lock
everything up around here.

We may be poor,
Mrs. Sommers.

We are not trash.

Got no father, has he?

His father died before he was born.

Now, just hold on here.

Now, the fact that Irene...
Mrs. Rutledge

brought the bike in here

lookin' for its rightful owner...

Well, that makes it a simple matter

of lost and found, in my book.

And as far as I'm concerned,
that's the end of it.

Next thing you know,

he'll take somebody's car for a joyride.

Thank you, Sheriff.

Hope we didn't cause
you a lot of trouble.

No trouble.

Lucky Tommy found it
before somebody else.

And lucky he had a mother who
knew where to bring it.

Hello, Mrs. Rutledge.
Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, by the way, I wonder
if you'd be available

to help out at the Founders' Day picnic.

I'm looking for volunteers.

Oh, I... I don't know.

Well, why don't you think
about it and let me know.

I noticed Martha's tongue has
lost none of its sting.

Yeah. Poor little guy.

Tommy's about the only kid
in town without a bicycle.

When I was about his age,

I found a pair of skates
at the mill pond.

Kept hoping that nobody
would claim them,

but somebody did.

You know, Amos, I've got
an old bike in my garage.

Frank used to ride it.

[Irene gasps] Afternoon, ma'am.

Good afternoon.
Name's Cash Logan, ma'am.

I do odd jobs around here.

Looks of your place, you
being a woman alone,

I figured maybe you had
somethin' needed fixing.

Thank you, Mr. Logan, but, uh,

I'm afraid I can't afford
any repairs right now.

Well, I ain't in no hurry
to get paid or nothing.

[Jessica] Hello, Mrs. Rutledge.

Well, you ever need any
help with anything,

you keep me in mind, okay?

That's a fine-looking boy you got there.

Mrs. Fletcher,

if you've come about the
picnic volunteer work,

I don't have anything proper to wear.

Oh, we'll just be wearing
sweaters and jeans.

Well, maybe next time.
Thanks for asking.

Uh, speaking of clothes,

I was just clearing out my garage,

and I found this old bicycle
that my husband used to ride.

I really don't have any
room for it anymore,

and I... I wondered if Tommy
might have some use for it.

We'd have to lower the
seat, of course...

I'm sorry,
Mrs. Fletcher.

We can't afford to buy the bike,

and we don't take charity.

Oh, of course not.

Oh, my goodness. I'm afraid it's
my turn to be embarrassed.

Um, I should have started
at the beginning.

You see, the weeds are
just taking over my yard.

And, uh, well,
I wondered if Tommy

might come over and help me to
dig them out after school.

I thought maybe he might take
the bicycle in payment.

Could I, Mom?

All right.

Great! Well, then that's settled.

Tommy, you could keep the bicycle here

and, uh, just ride it over to my house.

Yeah!

Well, since you've been kind
enough to pay a visit,

won't you come in for some coffee?

Oh, I'd love a cup. Thanks.

This absolutely scruffy fellow

comes off Fifth Avenue
and into my gallery.

I thought he'd been
sleeping in Central Park.

[Eleanor laughs] He probably
came in to get out of the cold.

Well, I had already buzzed security

when he had picked out six
of Simon's seascapes

and wrote me a check in seven figures.

I know. He found somebody's checkbook.

More likely mugged someone, mmm?

Naturally, I don't waste
time on people of that ilk.

I'd already refused his check
and had him hustled out.

Is it just instinct

or is there a little
twist to this story?

Your instincts do not fail you, Jessica.

The next morning,
I just happened

to be glancing at the Times,

and there was this gentleman's picture.

He was giving a rock concert
at Madison Square Garden.

So you see, you can't always judge a man

by his clothes.

Seven figures?

I feel a deep sense of loss, Felix.

Not to mention my commission.

You know, Simon, when you gave me

that little seascape 20 years ago,

I had no idea.

I hope you have it well-insured.

If you ever decide to part
with it, let me know.

Not on your life.

You know, George and I
have three Simon Thanes.

Mmm-hmm.

Best investment we ever made.

Makes the Dow Jones look sick.

You know, even though
we're only summer people

here at the cove,
I think we ought to arrange

some kind of
Simon Thane art festival.

Don't you agree, Jessica?

Well...
Good Lord, no.

That would be the end of my privacy.

Well, Simon lets nothing
interfere with his work.

Just what have you been up
to this summer, Simon?

You've hardly sent me anything.

[Simon] I'm trying something different.

It might just be the very
best thing I've ever done.

[Eleanor] Perhaps less profitable.

It sounds interesting.
Can we see it?

I'm afraid that
Simon is becoming, uh,

secretive in his golden years, Jessica.

Even I haven't seen it.

He keeps it covered up out
there in the studio.

Hmm.

A pinch of mystery always adds
luster to an artist's aura,

not to mention value.

I shall immediately
begin to scatter hints

among the board members of the Met.

[Simon] Thank you, Felix.

The role of the artist is
always to break new ground.

Otherwise, he may as well go
into commercial illustration

and paint beer bottles for a living.

Thank you, Irene.

Oh, I must say, that looks
absolutely mouthwatering.

Well, now that we've finished
carving up the artist,

shall we, uh, start on the roast?

First-class dinner,
Eleanor.

Thank you, George.

Actually, the girl did everything.

Oh, you must give us her number.

Yes, Irene, it was simply delicious.

Oh, George, please don't choke us all

with that vile cigar smoke.

Has everyone noticed what a purist

Carol has become in only a month

since she gave up that
vile cigarette smoke? Ha!

All rumors to the contrary,

I value an evening like
this with friends,

especially old and dear friends.

But, of course,
I must be reminded

of how much I enjoy it by a lovely lady

who has enriched my life beyond measure.

A wonderful woman who has provided me

with love and support,

even though, on occasion, we disagree.

To Eleanor, without whom
I would be nothing.

May I tell them?
Of course.

Simon and I are leaving in two weeks

for one month in Italy.

A second honeymoon.

Oh, how lovely.

The man's a veritable
fountain of creative juices.

Why, Eleanor, now who's being secretive?

You didn't even tell me,
your closest friend.

My goodness.
Midnight.

Well, they do say, the
mark of a perfect guest

is to know when to leave. Mmm.

I was gonna have another brandy.

Well, George, you've had enough

to open your own monastery.

And I'm afraid
I have one of those

annoying headaches coming on.

Can I give you a hand to tidy
up the kitchen, Eleanor?

Oh, heaven's no, Jessica.
The girl will take care of it.

Can I give you a ride home, Jessica?

I'm staying at Hill House.

Well, Felix, that's very kind.

Thank you.
Pleasure.

Mom, what's wrong?
Nothing. Go back to bed.

[Tommy] But there's blood!

I cut myself.
It's nothing.

Go back to bed!

[Eleanor] Oh, God, no.

I'd say the knife went
right through his heart.

He couldn't have lasted more
than a couple of seconds.

Who would've wanted to kill
that gentle, gifted man?

Seth, when do you think he died?

Oh, you can't put too fine a point

on these sorts of things.

I'd say somewhere between,
uh, midnight, 2:00 a.m.

Looks like it was a carving knife.

Simon used it to carve the
rack of lamb last night.

Well, no sign of a break-in.

Mrs. Thane says the
door was standing open

when she discovered the
body this morning.

Strange.
What's that?

Well, everything's ready for painting.

The oil colors on the
palette are... wet.

But there's no picture on the easel.

Hmm.

Everything's dry back here, too.

I always did like
Simon's work.

I have a calendar in my office.

Some of his best stuff on it.

All his things.

As if he was just going to walk in,

put on his smock and light up his pipe.

One of the hardest things
about losing a husband

is all the little things
he leaves behind.

Sooner or later, when
the pain subsides...

you have to put them away.

We had the airline tickets,

reservations at a little
pensione in Florence.

I can't believe he's gone.

Eleanor, I'm so sorry.

If there's anything
I can do,

any business details I can
take off your shoulder.

Uh, I'm sorry,

but I got to ask some questions,
Mrs. Thane.

When was the last time you
saw your husband alive?

[Eleanor] After everybody had left.

I guess it was a little after midnight.

Simon said he had some work
to do out in the studio.

I went up to bed.

Was that usual, him workin' at night?

Oh, he worked at all hours.

Anyway, I woke up this morning,

and I realized that he
hadn't come to bed.

So I went...

I went out to the... to the
studio looking for him.

Eleanor, there was no sign in the studio

of any painting in progress.

Did you, by any chance,
remove it for safekeeping?

No.

All I saw was Simon lying on the floor.

Could be we're dealin' with a theft

as well as a murder.

Whatever he was working on
would've been worth a fortune.

Sheriff, I suggest an inventory
be made of the studio

as quickly as possible.

Yeah, good idea.

Just who was here last night?

Well, George and Carol Selby were here.

Oh, right, that lawyer fellow
from Boston, and his wife.

The one that was talking about having

a Simon Thane art festival
at the town meeting.

They were the first to leave.

And I dropped Jessica off on
my way back to Hill House.

Hmm, anybody else?

Only the six of us.

Oh, except that girl, of course.

Irene Rutledge.

Hmm.

Yes, she was still cleaning
up in the kitchen

when I went up to bed.

Well, Amos, the autopsy only confirms

what I've already told you.

Massive penetration of
the left ventricle.

Must've killed him in seconds.

Nothing else?
No marks, no bruises?

Nothing. Oh, a little
paint on the knife.

Paint?
Yeah.

Smeared all over the blade,
underneath the blood.

Pinkish. I expect it was oil paint.

Mmm. That's very strange.

You say Simon used it
to carve the roast?

Well, then Irene Rutledge
must have handled it

when she cleaned up. Uh, did
you say Irene Rutledge?

Yes.
What about her?

Well,
I saw her on the street last night,

not far from
Thane's place.

When was that?
Uh, just after 1:00 a.m.

Amos, if Irene was still
there one o'clock,

one hour after everyone else left,

she might have seen or heard something.

Right.

Maybe we should go have a talk with her.

No, I didn't see anyone

or hear anything before I left.

Hmm, and what time was
that, Ms. Rutledge?

Um, just after midnight.

Are you sure about that?

I mean, could it have been
more like one o'clock?

[Irene] No, I'm certain.
I checked.

I get paid by the hour.

Mrs. Thane went up to bed,

so I latched the door and let myself out

and went straight home.

Oh. Well, now that's not what...

Irene, all these boxes.
Are you moving?

Yes, I thought I could
find a job in Portland.

Looks like you're packin' up in a hurry.

What's this?

Oh.

Those are lovely.

Where'd you get these,
Ms. Rutledge?

Mr. Thane threw them away.

Now, just hold on here.

Some valuable artwork is
missin' from Thane's studio.

Irene, these are drawings of you

and signed by Simon Thane.

But he was going to throw them away.

When I admired them, he signed
them and gave them to me.

She didn't steal 'em.

My mom doesn't steal!

Now, just take it easy, son.

Were you awake when your
mom came home last night?

She came home at twelve o'clock,

just like she told you.

I remember because
I looked at the clock.

Sheriff, I found this out back
stuffed in the trash barrel.

Irene, isn't that the dress
you wore last night?

Looks like blood, Sheriff.

She... she cut her finger
on a glass I broke.

That's all it was.

Must've healed pretty quick.

I'm afraid I'm gonna have
to take the dress in

for lab analysis,
Ms. Rutledge,

and I'm gonna have to ask you

not to leave town till
we get this sorted out.

She lied about what time she got home.

Yeah, and Tommy backed her up.

Course he did.

The boy was trying to protect his mom.

You can't blame him for that.

That's what troubles me, Amos.

I mean, why would he think that
his mother needed protecting?

They're both frightened.

They're concealing something.

Maybe it was those drawings.

Eleanor Thane tells me

that Irene came over to Thane's place

a couple times a week to cook and clean.

Seein' as how Mrs. Thane was
only there on weekends.

Maybe Simon did give her those drawings.

I mean, he gave me a painting.

And Felix Casslaw, that
art dealer fella?

He says those sketches
are worth thousands

if they're signed by Thane.

Now, what if she was stealin'
works of art from him?

Amos, that doesn't make any sense.

If Irene were stealing
valuable artworks,

why doesn't she have the money to buy
Tommy a bicycle?

Yeah. Huh, poor little guy.

Reminds me of me when I was a kid...

You got no right to bring me in.

Sheriff. I pulled
Cash Logan here over

for runnin' a stop sign.

Found this in the back of his truck.

Just might be that picture
stolen by Thane's murderer.

And it's still wet.

Hey, could be this is a
picture of Irene Rutledge.

Yeah, but with the face
missing, it's hard to tell.

Sheriff, telephone.

Mmm.

Mr. Logan, where did you get this?

I found it.

I was takin' a load to the
dump early this morning.

It was stuffed in an old carton.

I see. But why did you take it?

Somebody threw it away, but...

I figured, it being a
Simon Thane painting,

it might still be worth something.

How did you know that it was
a Simon Thane painting?

He was carrying this in
his belt under his coat.

I use it in my work for cuttin' rope.

There ain't no law against that.

Thanks a lot.

Well, that was the
police lab in Portland.

The blood on
Irene Rutledge's dress

matches Simon Thane's in all points.

Afraid I'm gonna have to
arrest her for murder.

Me? Why would
I kill Mr. Thane?

I am sorry,
Ms. Rutledge,

but you lied about what time
you left Thane's place.

Now, you sure had access
to the murder weapon.

And his blood was all over your clothes.

But I had no reason to kill Mr. Thane.

He's been very good to me.

Could be you repaid him by
stealin' those drawings.

Maybe he caught you at it.

No!

Amos, there could be
another explanation.

Well, if there is,
I'd sure like to hear it.

Irene, did you pose for Mr. Thane?

No.

But you must have posed for
those charcoal drawings

that you said that he gave to you.

I never posed.

He just did some sketches

while I was working around the place.

Did you see something last night?

Perhaps something that you
were afraid to tell us about?

No, I didn't see anything.

Well, if that's your final
word, Ms. Rutledge,

I got no choice.

Lock her up.

What about my son?

Well, I'll look after him.

At least until we sort this thing out.

She's lying.

It's as plain as the nose on your face.

Yes, she's certainly
concealing something.

Has all the earmarks of
a crime of passion.

Passion?

Oh, I know that Simon Thane

is something of an
institution around here.

But just because there's a
little snow on the roof,

don't mean that there's
no fire in the hearth,

if you get my drift.

Oh, I get your drift, Amos.

I just think your anchor is slipping.

That oil painting, the
one that was slashed,

was of a lady in the altogether.

Could be that there was
some hanky-panky going on

between Thane and his model.

Amos, Simon Thane was an artist.

To him, his model was more likely, uh...

Well, an interesting composition
of line, color and shading.

Maybe so.

But when a lady takes her clothes off,

well, human nature being what it is...

[Jessica] I know he's frightened,

but he won't allow himself to show it.

[Amos] He's a tough little guy.

Probably already has had
his share of hard knocks.

Amos, what do you think
will happen to Tommy

if Irene is convicted?

Well, seein' as how his father's dead,

and Irene's got no other livin' kin,

he'll probably go to an orphanage,

maybe a foster home if he's lucky.

I just can't believe
that Irene is guilty.

Uh, I was thinkin' of goin' down

to the diner for a burger.

Maybe Tommy would like to go along, huh?

A boy that age needs
lots of nourishment.

Well, that's a good idea.

And I'll look into what Irene needs.

What?

A good lawyer.
Oh, yeah.

[Carol] I'm so glad you dropped by.

You know, with Simon's tragic passing,

I do think we should arrange

a commemorative showing of his works.

Now, I know that George and I
would be honored to lend ours.

And I think you would
be the perfect person

to organize it, Jessica.

And you do have a Thane
original, too, Jessica.

It might be just the thing to
put Cabot Cove on the map.

Well, it's certainly
an interesting idea,

but, uh, perhaps a little premature

under the circumstances.

Oh, yeah. I see your point, Jessica.

There may be a whiff of scandal

concerning that
Rutledge woman.

Actually, George, that's what
I wanted to talk to you about.

I mean, Irene needs a good lawyer.

And, George, obviously
you're one of the best.

But my practice in Boston
takes all my time.

I mean, normally,
I'm only here on the weekends.

Well, obviously there's no money in it.

But the case would undoubtedly
attract national attention.

Uh... yes, George.

Now, no matter what that poor woman did,

she's entitled to a fair trial.

Well, I suppose I could
at least look into it.

Oh, good. Then it's settled.

Oh, dear,
I said I'd drop in and see Eleanor.

Mmm, I've got to run, too.

Oh!

And there's that poor
little boy to consider.

Oh, what's his name?
Tommy.

Can I offer you a lift, Jessica?

Well, if it's not too
much trouble, George.

No.

George, couldn't you pull some strings

and find some private school
that would take the boy?

I'll make some phone calls.

Well, if there's anything
George and I can do to help...

Well, maybe George can
prov that she's innocent.

Thank you.

[Eleanor] No, it's too soon for me
to even think about a showing.

Well, look, you'll have to
talk to Felix about that.

Look, we'll discuss it in a few weeks.

I've got to go now. Right.

Oh, Jessica, how sweet of you.

Are you feeling a little better?

Oh, keeping busy helps.
Good.

There's so much to do.

Felix tells me they've
arrested that woman.

Oh, you mean Irene.

Yes, Irene.

Well, I don't think all
the facts are known.

I mean, she might be innocent.

Really? Do you have another theory?

Oh, no, no.
Just, um, nagging doubts.

About what? Well,
I'm curious about something.

Did a man named Cash Logan

ever do any odd jobs
around here for Simon?

Well, being that I only
come up here on weekends,

uh, I never met him.

But, yes,
I seem to remember

Simon mentioning his name to me.

Uh, bringing firewood,

hauling the rubbish, that kind of thing.

He's the one who found
the slashed picture,

a nude study.

That was so strange, a
total surprise to me.

Then you didn't know who
was posing for him?

Well, I assumed it was Irene.

I mean,
I heard about those... the sketches.

Yes, well, the same thought
had occurred to me.

But strangely enough, she denied it.

It's very puzzling.

Oh, by the way,

was that Felix Casslaw's
car I noticed outside?

Yes, he's here.

It must be such a comfort,

having an old friend of
the family close by

at a time like this.

Well, yes, he's out in the studio,

doing an inventory of Simon's pictures.

Sorry, did I startle you?

Jessica, you really shouldn't
creep up on people.

Felix, the door was wide open,

and I didn't want to break
your concentration.

You've got his signature down very well.

Well, you see, Jessica,

uh, since these are
unquestionably Thane paintings,

the signature is merely a technicality.

And a signed Simon Thane
is "technically"

more valuable than an unsigned one.

Precisely.

Simon rarely signed his work

until he packed it off to my gallery.

It's a question of protecting

Eleanor's interest in the estate.

Eleanor has given her
approval, of course.

Oh, of course.
I'm glad you understand.

Oh, there are some subtleties
about the art business

that I will never understand.

Yes, well.

Was there something you
wanted to see me about?

Yes, there was.

The painting that was stolen,
the slashed painting.

I don't remember.
Did Simon sign it?

Sorry. I never saw that painting.

Oh, yes, of course.

How forgetful of me.
Nobody saw the painting

except Simon, of course,
certainly the model,

and whoever murdered him.

You mean the Rutledge woman.

Oh, look.

What a handsome lighter.
Is it yours?

I don't smoke.

Perhaps it belonged to Simon.

Well, I'll give it to Eleanor.

I'm sure she'd want to have it.

There's no doubt in your mind, is there,

that Irene Rutledge killed Simon?

Well, until everything is
brought out into the open,

there's always some doubt.

Well, don't let me keep
you from your work.

How's my son?
He's fine.

And thanks to Amos Tupper,
he's eaten very well.

I don't know how to thank you
for taking care of him.

No trouble at all.

Mrs. Fletcher...
Jessica, can't you help us?

Irene, I want to help you.

But I can't if you won't
tell me the truth.

But I'm afraid.
Yes, I know that.

Irene, what really happened?

Mrs. Thane had gone to bed,

so when I finished cleaning
up in the kitchen,

I went out to the studio to
see Mr. Thane, to get paid.

And?

Well, he was lying on the floor.

I didn't know what was wrong.

I went to him, turned him over.

There was blood on my hands.

And he'd been stabbed
with a carving knife.

He was dead.

I panicked.
I... I ran away.

But, Irene, why didn't you
telephone the sheriff

or at least call Mrs. Thane?

No, I couldn't get involved.
I just couldn't.

But you had done nothing.
Why were you so frightened?

I didn't kill him,
Mrs. Fletcher.

You must believe that.

Try to remember.

Was there a painting on the easel?

Um, no, the easel was empty.

And the knife? Hadn't it
been in the kitchen?

Well, I remember carrying
it to the kitchen

when I cleared the table,

but, no, it wasn't there
when I put things away.

Irene, are you telling me everything?

Yes.

[Amos] The roots, Tommy.

Make sure you get right
down to the roots.

Oh!

Just showin' Tommy here

the best technique for pullin' up weeds.

Boy sort of needs a man

to show him how to get
the hang of things.

Yes, it's a vanishing skill.

Hello, Tommy.
Hi.

Sheriff Tupper was just telling me

how he broke the passing record

at the Cabot Cove Panthers
championship game.

It was so long ago, you
probably don't remember.

Oh, is that the year they made you

the captain of the team, Amos?

Yeah.

And after the game,

they carried him off the
field on their shoulders.

Oh, my goodness.
So long ago, I'd forgotten.

Um, isn't it time you two took a break?

Oh, right.

Tommy, why don't you hop
on your bike there

and go on down and get us a
couple of ice cream cones.

And make mine raspberry, huh?

I'll be back before they melt. Mmm.

Amos...
Hmm?

Looks like you got a
little somethin' there

on your jacket, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh.
Hmm.

Oil paint.

Probably brushed up against
somethin' in Thane's studio.

Amos, I was just talking to Irene.

There's something
I have to tell you.

Excuse me just a minute.

Sheriff, this just came in
for you, special delivery.

Thanks. Thought you might
want to see it right away.

Been doing a little checking up

on Irene and Tommy's background.

Amos, what is it?

Well, according to the hospital records,

where Tommy was born,

his mother died in childbirth.

If Tommy's mother died in childbirth,

then who exactly are you,
Mrs. Rutledge?

If that's what your name is.

Is that what you've been hiding,
Irene?

Irene Rutledge was a friend.

She was very sweet, very scared.

She had no family, no husband,

and she was pregnant.

And we became very close.

When she died...

I told the people at the hospital

that I was her sister.

And I took the baby and I left town.

And I've been running ever since.

So you took not only her
baby, but her name?

And is that why you were afraid

to become involved in
Simon Thane's murder?

I wanted to adopt him legally.

I even tried once.

But I don't have any money.
I'm not married.

I just kept moving.

And Tommy doesn't know?

He thinks you're his mother?

Well, if that don't beat all.

And now they're gonna
take him away from me.

Well, we'll deal with that later.

Right now you're facing a murder charge.

Isn't there anything you
remember about that night?

Even something insignificant?

Uh, well, um...

While I was cleaning up in the kitchen,

I... I thought I heard a car door slam.

Sheriff, this just came
in over the teletype.

[Amos] Mmm.

Mmm, a rap sheet on Cash Logan.

He knifed some fella in a bar fight.

Nearly killed him.

Got ten years in the pen
for aggravated assault.

According to these dates,
he came to Cabot Cove

soon after he was released.

Cash hasn't been in any trouble here,

but that business about
knifing somebody.

Poor little Tommy.

What's gonna happen to him now?

You really like him, don't you, Amos?

Ah, I see a lot of my own
childhood in that boy.

I was raised by a widowed mother,

deep in the Depression, not much money.

Never could afford the kind
of stuff other kids had.

Really?

Do you suppose
I could take the boy in

and make a home for him?

Tommy needs Irene, his mother.

But she isn't even his real mother.

Well, only two of us know that, Amos,

and as far as I'm concerned...

[Tommy] Sheriff Tupper!

[Amos] Tommy.

I got the football, Sheriff.
Yeah.

Sheriff Tupper's gonna show me
how to throw a 50-yard spiral.

Ooh.

Well, might be a tad rusty
after all these years.

Here's your change, Sheriff.

Okay. Let's go.

There you go.

Here it comes.

Grip the laces now, the laces.

In the laces?

Ah.

Okay, now you go out for a long one.

This way.

Here it comes!

Oh! Sorry!

You're doin' pretty good there, Tommy.

I'll give you a tip.

Use both hands and pull
it in to your chest.

Go ahead.

Little bit of glue,

and that chair will be as good as new.

Maybe.

Some things can be
fixed, and some can't.

Like that painting you
picked up at the dump.

What about it?

There's no way that that can
be repaired, you know.

Why did you really pick it up?

I already explained all
that to the sheriff.

Was it because you thought that Irene

was somehow involved in
Simon Thane's murder?

I don't know what you're
talking about, ma'am.

Really?

Is it merely coincidence

that you went to prison just
before Tommy was born,

and that you came here to Cabot
Cove when you were released?

I did my time.

Ain't nobody gonna touch me here.

I think you came to Cabot Cove

to find a woman named
Irene Rutledge and her child.

You're Tommy's father, aren't you?

Ain't no kid deserves an
ex-con for a father.

I ain't sayin' I am.

But supposing 11 years ago,
I cut up some loudmouth drunk

who insulted the woman that
was carrying my child.

Supposing that that woman
died when I was in jail.

Why, I'd do just about anything

to make sure nothing ever
happened to that boy.

Even murder?
Maybe.

If I really was the father,

which I ain't.

Yes, well, um...

Oh, you seem to have some
paint on your jacket.

Yeah.

Must've got it when I was
handling that wet painting.

Yes, yes.

Of course.
Thank you, Mr. Logan.

Isn't it wonderful, Jessica?

George has found a boarding school

that will accept Tommy.

And there's no reason any of his peers

will ever have to know...

About his mother, I mean.

Obviously, you've gone to
a great deal of trouble.

Yeah, well, I've persuaded one of

the bright young men in my office

to handle her case.

Oh, dear, heaven's sakes.
I'm so sorry. Oh!

Oh, well, no.
The fabric's protected.

It'll wipe right off.
Oh, dear.

You see.

Oh, my goodness.
What's this?

Huh. Somebody's lighter.

So that's what became of my lighter.

Yes, I would have taken
Irene's case myself,

but you see,
I already have a very full calendar.

I don't think that Irene's
case will come to trial.

You mean she's confessed?

No,
I mean that someone else killed Simon.

Good heavens.
Do you know who?

Yes, I'm afraid I do.

You see, Irene heard a car door slam

when she was clearing up the dishes.

The killer must have
taken Simon's picture

away with him in the car.

Really, Jessica?
Are you sure?

Fairly sure.
It's logical.

Wet oil paint makes such a mess.

I even got some of it on the
sleeve of this jacket.

This is the same jacket
I was wearing, George,

when you gave me a lift in your car.

Oil paint in my car? What?

Someone must've tried to clean it up,

but some was still left on the armrest.

Are you saying that I murdered Simon?

I'm sorry, George.

That lighter, your lighter,

I didn't find it between those cushions.

That lighter was in Simon's studio,

and it's not the sort of lighter
that a pipe smoker uses.

But I haven't seen this
lighter in months.

When Carol and I were both smoking,

we had them all over the place.

I mean, we were always losing them.

George, I'm so sorry.

Jessica, what is this all about?

I came here thinking you
were the murderer,

but, of course,

it wasn't Irene who was
posing for Simon.

Don't be ridiculous.

Carol? Oh, Jessica, that's nonsense.

No, I don't think so.

You were always such a devoted admirer

of Simon's genius.

I don't know why it took me so
long to put this together.

The cigarette lighter was in the pocket

of Simon's dressing gown.

The same gown that he lent
you when you were posing,

which obviously started
before you gave up smoking.

Carol?
Oh, George.

Don't look at me like that.

While I was in Boston during the week,

you were having...

an affair with Simon?

It wasn't like that.

We shared something spiritual.

Yes.

A long summer...

of intimacy with a man
that you greatly admired.

Oh, he was the most exciting thing

that had ever happened to me.

His... his creative energy,

his... his excitement.

I suppose I fell in love with him,

and I thought he felt
the same thing for me.

And then the night of the party, I...

I realized it was Eleanor
he loved and always had.

And you suddenly developed a headache.

I had made a fool of myself.

And when that painting was made public,

everyone would know.

I had to destroy that painting.

I waited until I thought
everyone had left,

and then I drove back.

And while Irene was cleaning up,

I went in through the kitchen...

She was still clearing the table.

And I found the butcher knife
and slipped out to the studio.

He was the finest thing
that ever touched my life.

And I killed him.

So that's how you got the paint smudge

on your jacket.
Yes.

Carol carried the portrait
to the dump in the car.

After tearing out the piece of
canvas that showed her face.

Yeah. She left it there where
she figured it'd be burned,

but Cash Logan found it.

Yes, apparently she'd tried
to clean up the car

so that George wouldn't know.

But she missed a smudge,

which I brought away on my jacket.

Ah, yeah, that's all well and good.

But what am I gonna do about the fact

that Irene Rutledge has
no legal claim to Tommy?

Amos, if I were you,
I would develop amnesia.

Hmm.

Save a lot of paperwork, too.

Hello?

Oh, hi there, Tommy, Irene.

Jessica, we just stopped
by to thank you again

for everything you've done.

Oh, my goodness.

Uh, would you like some coffee?

No, we really can't stay.

Sheriff.

It looks like I won't be able to
go fishing with you Saturday.

No? Why not?

Cash Logan has invited
us to go on a picnic.

We had a long talk about things.

He's really a very nice man.

I think I ought to go along.

Well, you being the man
of the family, Tommy,

I certainly understand.

Don't you, Amos?

Well...

Anyway, thanks again.
Come on, Tommy.

Bye.
Bye, see you.

I'm not sure I like the idea
of her keepin' company

with the likes of that Cash Logan.

I wouldn't be a bit surprised

if they started seeing quite
a lot of each other.

How about some more coffee, Amos?

And I will tell you something else

to put into your amnesia file.