Original subtitles

What's happening?

Storm's coming soon. I don't know what you want.

Tonight on Murder, she wrote.

You let me have the twilight and I'll show you a city that, well, I'll leave

the description up to you.

Mr. Henley, you do your city proud.

I understand you've been asking around about Luna Santee.

She's a witch, ma'am. She was murdered 20 years ago.

You're no longer needed here. You were going to catch a plane and you were

going to go home.

Freeze!

Brothers and sisters, let us thank God for the beautiful music that poured

out of Daddy Coop's heart to the world.

And for the love that poured out of his heart to his family,

his closest loved ones, and to his many, many friends.

who have come here today to pay their deep and sincere respects to a man who

wanted simply to play his music and bring happiness to those he loved.

May God have mercy on his soul.

Oh, thank you.

You know, I don't think I can get used to such a happy funeral.

The all-in certainly does know how to say goodbye to the ones it loves.

We celebrate our loved ones away, Jessica.

This is Daddy Coop's ride to glory.

All right, then. For the music that he gave us and for the man that he was.

On to glory. On to glory.

John.

John, do you want to drink with us?

Jessica, you remember Daddy Coop's mama?

Emma, Jessica, and I volunteered together for the United Negro College

Fund. Excuse me.

94.

Pardon me? In case you were wondering.

Memory's still sharp as a blade, though.

Oh, that's wonderful.

So is my hearing.

I'm so sorry.

Everything else is suspect.

Do you all mind the humidity?

Well, I suppose that one gets used to it.

Not yet.

Junior, please, can't you make your peace even now?

Mama, I wish the man well, okay?

The way these people are carrying on, his greatness, his love.

My daddy was no saint.

That kind of trouble doesn't get buried in a grave.

What kind of trouble, Emma?

Storms coming soon.

Oh, I didn't see a cloud in the sky.

I can smell the fire.

In the air.

Detective Coop?

Perhaps today I can call you John.

You can call me Andy.

I want to offer my deep regrets.

Thank you.

Your father was proud to know his son was such a respected police officer.

Oh, I don't know how much respect he carried for policemen.

Or for attorneys, for that matter.

Guess we'll never know.

Mr. Henley.

I wanted you to meet my son finally, but... He and his father

always sparked against each other.

At 19, he just walked away from the family and to the Marines, into the

police. Far away from Daddy and Daddy's music as he could get.

I always hoped...

Now it's too late for them.

Yeah, nice, nice, nice.

Give me a cool one, huh?

Oh, Melinda, there you are.

Hello, Jessica.

Jack, just the best stand-up bass player in the land.

Oh, used to be.

But I'm a club owner now.

You know, Melinda, I have a whole lot of memories on display over at my place.

Daddy's own charts and tapes, pictures, and even our old instruments.

Oh, I'd love to come have a look.

Matter of fact, it would do me good right now.

I've been gathering up a lot of Daddy's things in one place. Kind of a museum.

And not just Daddy's work, but the music he helped to start Rhythm and Blues.

Sounds like a fine idea. If there's anything I can do to help, please let me

know. And I speak for my father as well.

Mrs. Fletcher, I'm Andy Henley.

And I've been following your work with pleasure. I hope we meet again soon

under happier circumstances.

Thank you. Excuse me.

Who is that?

He used to call Andy Handler the judge's boy, but now he's a prosecutor and

practically a judge himself.

He might be a real help to you, Melinda.

Would you just listen to that?

How do you suppose Emma knew?

It was a sad day today as New Orleans said goodbye to one of her favorite

sons. Blues great Daddy Coop died yesterday.

Coop was one of the first musicians to perform at Preservation Hall after its

dedication in 1961.

His distinctive style of music is known the world over, as well as many of the

songs he wrote.

John Daddy Coop, dead of cancer at 62.

As his friends say goodbye in New Orleans today.

They say goodbye to a piece of history.

He will long be remembered by his family and friends.

That's me and stupid.

It ain't safe driving around in weather like this. Especially the way you do it.

Every birthday, you hit 10 miles slower.

Pretty soon, you'll be backing up when y'all be going home.

I wonder where Jack Lee is. He said he was going to be here.

Jack Lee?

Wonder where he is.

Look at that.

What do you suppose happened here?

Jack Lee?

Jack

Lee?

Melinda, keep them away.

Call the police.

He's gone.

I suppose that Johnson surprised whoever was searching it.

Got any idea what they were looking for?

How long had he been dead when Mrs. Fletcher found him?

We just can't tell until we get the medical examiner's report.

Well, his trouser legs were still wet from the puddles outside.

And his car engine was still warm.

Y'all checked on that, did you?

Haven't.

What does your habit tell you about this?

There's a mark on his neck here.

Could have been strangled with a rope. Rope with a knot in it.

No, it's too perfect.

Yeah, perfect square.

His family been living on borrowed time for 20 years.

And now, the devil will have his due.

What's she mean by that?

Don't try to make any sense out of what my grandmother says.

She knew the storm was coming, John.

The soon-to-be museum of rhythm and blues.

You have something that belongs to me.

Give it up, and I'll scramble hands for you.

I don't know what you want.

It's gone.

It's called me at my home, too.

Keeps saying I have something that belongs to him. Maybe it's just a prank.

What was it that Emma said about the family?

Some trouble 20 years ago?

Oh.

Well, everybody's got trouble.

She was trouble then, and she's trouble now.

Trouble set to music.

20 years ago, she said.

It's her, I suppose.

Luna Santee.

That's what Grandma Coop was talking about.

She died 20 years ago.

Luna Santee?

She came out of nowhere, made this one album with Daddy, and she died soon

after. Nobody.

Is somebody else supposed to be in here?

Just us.

Who's in here?

Melinda, I think that we should go.

We can call the police from somewhere else. There's nothing in here but

memories, nothing to stare at.

If anyone's in here, please answer me.

Hello, John.

I've just come from giving my statement.

I've got a killer day today, Mrs. Fletcher. No joke intended.

Oh, is that why you didn't return my calls?

The city is full of trash this morning, Mrs. Fletcher. I'm the broom.

Excuse me.

But you did hear what happened to your mother and I last night. Yes, I heard.

And?

And I think it's time you went back to your own business, Mrs. Fletcher.

My business?

Yes. The Johnson murder case is in our hands now. As a matter of fact, here's

the report.

I've already read it.

Lieutenant Foray has been much more cooperative and friendly. I wonder why.

You know, John, I've known people with a chip on their shoulder, but you seem to

be carrying the whole tree.

Why are you studying this so hard?

Are we the makings of your next novel?

John, your mother was terrorized last night, put in danger.

And I happen to believe that it has something to do with some buried problem

in your family.

John, what's happening? Why can't you tell me?

I will tell you what is happening.

You are going to catch a plane and you are going to go home.

You've been a great help to my mother. Thank you. But you're no longer needed

here. Understood?

Well, I believe I'll let Melinda tell me if she needs me. And I like to make my

own arrangements as to when and where I travel.

Is that understood?

I just felt an ice and northern wind blow by. Oh, good morning, Mrs.

Fletcher. Oh, I'm so sorry.

It's very dangerous for you to walk at a New York pace through a southern town.

It's the wrong rhythm.

See, we're all languid down here. It's just something in the air. Am I talking

too slowly?

You're doing just fine.

Now, you could probably pack three days worth of productive activity into just

one of our lazy afternoons. But you see, we live a long time.

And stress is just a distant cousin. Now, tell me, how much of New Orleans

have you seen?

Well, uh, most of the major sites, a few antique stores, and, of course, the

police station. Well, let me show you my appreciation for your very entertaining

writing by escorting you through my New Orleans.

Well, that's awfully kind of you, but I'm only here a very short while.

Tonight, then.

See, we're very impulsive in our languid way.

Well, I promised to spend part of the night with Melinda Coop.

Then the early evening's mine.

You let me have the twilight, and I'll show you a city that... Well, I'll leave

the description up to you.

Now, may I pick up your hotel?

5.30?

How am I doing now?

Mr. Henley, you do your city proud, and I'd be more than happy to be in your

company for the early evening. Thank you so much.

All right, you're making smooth with this lady now. Yes, sir.

I'm inside.

Hold on.

Coop.

Yeah. It's yours.

Yeah. You have something I want.

Yes, I do.

Yeah, I got it. Now walk away and don't look back. That's very important.

You know, there really is something sultry and seductive about this place.

Any questions so far?

Historical? Political?

Actually, yes. There is one, if you don't mind.

Think back 20 years, Andy.

What does the name Luna Santee mean to you?

I'm sorry. You know I can't resist a mystery.

Particularly if it concerns a dear friend.

Oh, yeah, Luna.

I've seen her.

A beautiful woman of color.

With a smile that would kill a cat.

Then you knew her.

Oh, no.

But I saw her perform at Daddy Coop's band.

Then she died.

Oh, yeah, I remember.

Strangled. I had a scandal there for a minute.

I was pretty young.

But I remember.

Uh, is the time concerning you? Should we, uh... Oh, no.

No, it's just... I've lost some weight recently, and my watch keeps slipping

around on my wrist, and my collars are too loose.

And I've been a good boy, and I've been exercising and drinking coffee instead

of cocktails.

Hallelujah.

But now, we were talking about history.

How would you like to walk through the past?

Well, all right, fine.

Where is it?

At home.

The Henley Mansion.

Formerly the Henley Plantage.

Wonderful, aren't they?

Oh, yeah.

That one.

That one looks like the Monet at Avis.

Oh, yes.

But, Andy, doesn't anybody live here?

Oh, well, my father and I both keep apartments in town, but we get out here

occasionally.

Spooky, isn't it?

Oh, this must be the old garden district, the way it was years ago.

There's more.

Follow me.

It really is an incredible collection.

Andy?

really do have to get to Melinda's, you know.

How y'all doing?

Can you imagine growing up in this place?

Secret doors, hidden rooms.

Come on in here, little lady.

Oh, it's fascinating.

They hid people in here during the Civil War.

That, that is my father.

The judge.

The self-portrait.

He did this?

My goodness, he was a very good painter.

He was.

He hasn't touched a canvas in years.

Oh, what a shame.

There's a look of sadness around his eyes.

Oh, well, he painted it not long after my mother died. So maybe he was.

I see.

There's a strong resemblance to you around the mouth.

And I notice that you're wearing that lovely garnet ring.

You don't miss a thing, do you?

He gave me this when I passed the bar.

Passing me the torch, I suppose.

Now, if you like, I can show you a painting he did of me.

As a cherub. Oh, now, Andy. Wings and all. No more. I really must get to

Melinda's another time.

All right, I understand.

This place gets a little spooky, even for Andy.

Despite the circumstances.

Nice of you to visit, Miss Melinda.

She brightens up a bit when you come around.

Oh, thank you, Gene.

Let me ask you a question.

You've worked for the Coops for so long.

Do you recall a woman by the name of Luna Santee?

She's a witch, ma'am. That's all I'm going to say about her.

Hmm. Hmm.

Hmm.

I can't help you, Lieutenant.

I don't know what they were searching for.

But unless I miss my guess, John Coop might be able to shed some light on

this. Yes, ma'am. Well, John Coop has some troubles of his own. He was

involved in a shooting last night. He refuses to talk about it. He's facing

suspension. Just what is his link to all this?

Well, I'm not sure.

But I believe that it has something to do with the Luna Santee.

Yes. Allow me. Thank you.

Well, you're on.

Miss Fletcher. I'm not on the bench now, Charles. I've come here hat in hand to

apologize. My son informs me that you've been ill-treated in our city.

Judge Henley, I recognize you from your self-portrait.

I'm so sorry about what happened, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, believe me, I'm fine now. The hotel has been wonderful. I mean, look at all

these magnificent flowers.

What was stolen?

Apparently nothing, Andy.

Miss Fletcher, I understand you've been asking around about Luna Santee.

Do you remember the case? She was murdered 20 years ago.

Oh, yes, I remember. I was district attorney then. But, you see, we just had

one suspect, John Daddy Coop. Although, at the time, I suppose his son might

have done it. Well, see, the lady was Daddy Coop's mistress.

You say you thought the son?

If John Jr. been to here about your age, Andy... He would have been 19, Daddy,

yeah.

Well, it was common knowledge that the father and the son didn't get along,

but, well, we had no evidence against the boy, and, you know, since then, he's

turned into one fine police officer with a spotless record.

Till now, that is.

And Daddy Coop?

Well, he had an unshakable alibi.

So we released him. It was all hushed up. No sense ruining a career without

any proof.

Now, how are we going to help you forget all of this unpleasantness? You know

what I suggest?

The world's finest coffee and beignets, please.

That sounds like a wonderful idea. Come, the Henleys will calm your fears and

slay all your dragons.

Morning, Gene.

What's doing on there?

Nothing important.

That's a fresh lemonade here.

Still cold.

Still good to see you come around the place.

Guess this ain't no social visit, is it?

Where were you last night, Gene?

About 11.15.

I was driving Miss Fletcher back to her hotel.

She and your mother had come over for a visit.

Why'd you have to ask me that?

Like you're the man and I'm some trash.

You knew Luna, didn't you?

Even before my father did.

You introduced them, didn't you?

Nobody ever knew Luna, Johnny.

Not inside.

But the two of you were blood.

I checked it out.

Your mother's maiden name was Santee, wasn't it?

Why do you come around here asking about the witch?

She was just a woman, Grandma.

My daddy was just a man.

So tell me something, where did she come from?

She just didn't drop like a stone from no place?

She got any relatives around here? Anybody gave a hank about her?

Somebody who might want revenge for her murder?

Police button.

You're in the middle of a storm and you can't even feel the rain.

My daddy killed her, didn't he?

Your daddy got his heart broke. But he killed her, didn't he? You walked out on

the family.

Hearts got broke and people died.

And it was all because of the witch.

Mama?

I didn't hear you come in.

What happened, honey?

It's okay. It's just a couple of stitches.

I've had worse.

Don't I know it.

Every time you touch yourself, I'd get a stitch.

I've never stopped worrying about the danger you throw yourself into.

Sit down.

Can I get you?

Nothing.

You sure?

Yes.

No matter what you have to say, it'll be better than silence. We've had too much

of that.

Questions, Mama?

You should have asked him a long time ago.

Instead, you closed the door.

I thought he did.

How you judged him, Johnny.

You never asked him for what you needed.

I remember you always watching him so hard as if you wanted him to know, to

know your heart. And when he didn't, you didn't give him much of a chance.

Mama, there's something I never told you.

It was about me walking away and getting on that train when I was 19.

I did try and talk to him the morning before.

I wanted to make things right. I wanted to talk it out.

I went to his place on Z Street.

And you walked in on him and Luna Santee?

He told me.

He told me all of it.

How could he do that to you?

How could he do that to us?

And how could you know about it and just lie for him?

You judged him and found him guilty long before that, Johnny.

You were angry because he was daddy to everybody.

But in some ways, he didn't belong to us, Johnny. He belonged to his music.

Just listen to yourself, Mama.

You never judged him.

You just let him be. I let him be who he was.

And he let me.

I forgave him and he forgave me.

We all have our sins.

I mean, that's what families do. They forgive each other.

That's what makes them families.

No, Mama, you lied for him.

He killed her.

And you lied for him.

No, Johnny.

He was with me that night.

Back in my arms, just as I told the police.

Now you can judge me.

Am I a liar?

No, Mama, you don't lie.

But you see, there's someone else out there who's digging for the truth.

And they're willing to kill for it.

And I have to make it right.

I have to stop it.

Are you prepared to talk about that shooting last night?

For instance, why were you in the graveyard when we fired at you?

And just how is your family mixed up in all

this?

I'll put it together in a couple of days, Lieutenant.

You're going to give me your gun and your badge.

It's a suspension.

Temporary. Hand in an investigation, that is.

Unless you're willing to tell me everything.

What I know, I'll tell you.

Fair enough.

gonna hit me with that or tell me the truth for melinda's sake i hope you make

the right choice

dear

john jr i guess i've put everything into my music even my feelings for you

sorry it's my way you're going to have to face luna one more time

That's what started it all.

Judge not, Junior.

Love, Daddy.

Now, this letter came to me out of my daddy's will.

It has clues in it, but it's a puzzle.

It sounds as if he was worried that it might fall into the wrong hands. Almost

as if it's in code, isn't it?

It's leading me to something.

Now, whatever it is, there's someone out there trying to get it, willing to kill

for it. He killed Johnson. He almost killed me.

What clues do you hear in it?

I'd always heard that Daddy recorded a song that mentioned Luna after her

murder, but he never released it.

Play it.

I'm just sitting here in this old rocket chair singing to myself

and keeping time.

It's not very easy listening to his voice now.

I realize that this is very difficult, John.

But it is vital that you do listen to it.

The moon made me crazy. Now, Luna is moon.

Yes.

Play it again.

I remember the night The moon made me crazy

Stealing time on Easy Street Where the air smelled like candy Easy

Street?

That's Z Street.

I used to call it Easy Street as a joke.

My daddy had a small apartment there.

Can you take me there, John?

That was where I first found them together.

Luna and my father.

It's the place where she was killed.

Except for the cobwebs and the spiders.

It's still the same.

I don't even know what we're looking for.

Letters? Photographs?

Well, I think we'll know when we find it.

We better find it soon, John.

Before he comes after you again.

Or your mother or your grandmother.

I'm even one of his targets now.

Then we'll find it.

It's just a bunch of old junk.

Ouch.

You okay?

Something sharp.

You know,

I think we're wasting our time.

I don't think there's anything here.

There is something.

The song.

At least you found that.

And you heard your father talking about how much he loved his son.

You have that now.

I wish he could have told me.

He did.

In the only way that he knew how.

I loved him.

You know this canvas that I scratched my hand on? It isn't packed.

Not packed like a normal canvas.

It's all stapled.

Maybe there's something underneath it.

Let me hold it for you. Yeah.

It's Luna.

I know that room.

I was in there.

This is Judge Henley's mansion.

Judge Henley and Luna.

That's the secret.

And he must have killed her.

Not my father. He killed her and tried to convict my father of the crime.

They would have railroaded him into the grave.

But Daddy had this.

And he kept it hidden.

And he kept the judge at bay.

But why didn't he take this to the police?

Because back then, Judge Henley was the police. He was the power in this town.

No black man could have gone against him directly.

But this was my daddy's ace in the hole.

It protected him, and it protected us all these years. Now I understand.

Jessica.

Jessica.

I asked the police to look after you, and they spotted you in John Coop's car.

You all right?

Oh, yes. Yes, I'm fine.

I think it's your father you should be worried about, Mr. Henley.

I don't understand that remark.

Maybe not, but it's all over now.

What are you talking about?

The Luna Santee case.

The Jack Lee Johnson murder. The attempted murder of a policeman. It's

all clear now.

It is.

That's my daddy's work.

In the hidden room.

My father.

and Luna Santee.

By the way, where's the police unit that supposedly spotted my car?

There isn't any police car, is there, Andy?

You found this place by yourself.

You've been here before, at least once.

The night you murdered Luna Santee.

What? You talked about Luna's smile, Andy.

When did you see it?

It's not on the album cover.

And you lied about seeing her perform with Daddy's band because she never did.

She only recorded with them.

Was she smiling the night you came here?

This is wrong.

This is dead wrong.

What time is it, Andy?

What time?

When a man is losing weight.

His watch turns around on his wrist, and his ring turns around on his finger.

I should have realized that lovely garnet ring of yours, that square-cut

gem.

If it was turned to your palm... It would leave the impression of a perfect

square on the throat of the man you strangled.

Henley, you were just a boy.

She thought I came here to make love to her.

Were you angry that she left your father for Daddy Coop, Andy?

Oh, yes.

She broke him.

She broke his heart.

I came here to beg her to go back to my father.

And she laughed at me.

Andy, it can't be worth all this grief, all this death.

Everything will disappear now.

Everything will turn into smoke.

And it'll all be over.

And nothing...

Nothing bad's going to happen to my father.

Son! I heard the police following you.

No more, Andy.

It's all over.

Come

on,

boy.

There was a time when I was angry about having to share Daddy Coop with the

world. I wanted him to be my daddy, not everybody's daddy.

But I finally came to realize just how big his love was and how it reached out

to me and to my mother and to the world.

So now we want to give something back.

to Daddy Coop's memory, to his music.

And so it is to Daddy Coop's love that we as family

and as friends dedicate this museum.