All language subtitles for Murder, She Wrote S03E09 Obituary for a Dead Anchor.DVDRip.NonHI.en

You're a dead man.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Sure was a good idea
of yours, Jessica, this TV

exposure. Well, honestly,
I didn't originate it.

Will you kindly get your
equipment out of my flower beds?

Scrutiny is a hit for one
reason, and you're lookin' at him.

He was a credit
to his profession.

He was a lowdown,
two-timing snake.

It might be healthy for you
to get out of town for awhile.

That big fellow you saw—
He could be dangerous.

You there! Hold it!

Ronald Ross.

Yours is acknowledged to
be one of the finest private

collections of abstract
expressionism in the country.

Quite obviously, you're not
one of those gentlemen...

who, uh, knows what he likes,
but doesn't know anything about art.

Well, actually, Kevin,
I have a degree in art.

Oh, and now you're, um, what—an
entrepreneur? Whatever that means.

In your case, doesn't
that mean the...

selling of illegal drugs
smuggled in from South America?

Someone's been
putting you on, Mr. Keats.

- I'm a legitimate businessman.
- Successful businessman,
I'll grant you that but not legitimate.

- Isn't your primary commodity cocaine?
- Oh, come on.

- You were in Miami
two weeks ago. True or false?
- I had a business meeting.

With a gentleman by
the name of Jose Amaldo.

Lousy creep. How'd he know that?

Jose Amaldo, who is
shown in these candid photos,

has been named seventeen
times as a major narcotics

distributor by the House
Committee Report...

on drugs and organized crime.

This wasn't your first
meeting, was it, Mr. Ross?

I can't tell you how
disappointed I am, Mr. Keats,

because I love to show
off my art collection.

Well, Mr. Ross may
hope it ends there,

but I've been promised new and revealing
information which you can see next week...

right here on Scrutiny, part two
in the "Profile of an Art Lover."

You're a dead man.

Good night, Nick. Good
night. And good night, Paula.

Good night, America.

Oh, I enjoy your
show, Miss Roman.

I'm just not sure I
want to expose myself

to one of those, uh,
soul-baring interviews.

Oh, no. That's Kevin Keats's department.
Mine are the down-home features.

And I would love to show
America J.B. Fletcher's Cabot Cove.

Oh, dear, don't you think that sounds
a little pretentious? No, not at all.

What I have in mind is a... a very gentle
portrait of a small New England town...

as seen through the eyes
of one of its leading citizens.

Mrs. Fletcher, please.

I really went to bat for this, and
you've always been very special to me.

Well, all right. I...

I'll bring it up at
the town meeting,

and if the town decides
they want to pose

for a video portrait,
well, I'll do my part.

Oh, good. I've never been
turned down by a town yet.

Oh, really? Thank you.

I know you’ve got a lot of work to
do, so I'm going to make this short.

Despite rumors to the
contrary, the network isn't

at all discouraged by
the way things are going.

Why should they be? We're
consistently winning our time slot.

We're still in the top 20.

- That's not number one.
- It's not 65 either.

Are they really that
worried about our ratings?

Well, there is the matter
of the new audience

survey. Doug, you
remember our conversation?

Richard, I don't need this pressure
when I'm trying to put a show together.

Pressure? Listen, buddy-boy,
you don't know what

pressure is. You're only the
producer here, remember?

Well, nobody forced you to be
vice president in charge of the news.

- Somebody had to do it.
- You could have suggested
they give the job to a newsman.

Here. Here.
"Newsperson," please.

Look, look, look. You guys have
no idea the heat that I take for you.

Richard, will you get out
of here and let us work?

- Doug, don't make me
look bad on the top floor.
- I don't have to make you look bad.

You're able to do
that all by yourself.

Well, now that we've all had a little
laugh at the expense of the enemy,

what do you think of
Paula's Cabot Cove idea?

I think it's brilliant. It'll make a great
Americana segment. Thank you.

Only you're not doing it. I've
got something else for you.

A Nebraska high school boy's been
accepted on the girls' basketball team.

Ought to be a lot
of good stuff there.

Oh, sure. This is very funny.

Now, please. Let's talk
about my Cabot Cove piece.

- I'm giving it to Kevin.
- What?

I want you there tomorrow.
You've gotta be out of your mind, pal.

I mean, I'm prepping part
two of the Ron Ross exposé.

Uh, well, there's not going to be a
part two. The legal department killed it.

- That stinks, Doug.
- The sweet smell of sup-press.

In view of the death threats
you've received, Kevin,

- it might be healthy for you
to get out of town for awhile.
- What death threats?

Cranks. What else, you know?

Don't you worry about
your Cabot Cove gig.

I have no intention of drowning
in the backwaters of Maine.

Check your contracts.
You have a choice.

Either take the
assignment or go off salary.

On the other hand, I've always loved
the smell of sea air. I hope the tide's in.

Jessica. Oh, good
morning, Wylie.

Here, let me help you
with that. Oh, thanks a lot.

Well, it looks like you bought out the
whole store. Oh, I just got a few things.

Uh-huh. Good morning.

Including a new outfit to wear on
television? It's one of the symptoms.

Oh, is it going around?
Lots of foolishness.

Everything shined up, everybody's
wearin' their Easter duds.

I even saw Nils Anderson
slappin' on a fresh coat of paint.

Well, I don't see
anything foolish about that.

How nice does a live
bait stand have to look?

It's getting out of hand,
Jessica, this TV business.

Well, they took a vote at the town
meeting, and everybody voted "Aye."

All except one sorehead that I
could name. Mm-hmm, Seth Hazlett.

And you notice
he's not here for the

festivities. Where is
Seth? I haven't seen him.

Had a sudden yen to visit
his sister in South Carolina.

Stuck me with all his
patients till next Tuesday.

Jessica!

Uh, hold up there!

Been tryin' to get you
on the phone all morning.

Uh, when are those TV
people coming in from

New York? Oh, they'll
be here sometime today.

Couldn't be more
specific, could ya'? Thinkin'

about organizin' a little,
uh, welcomin' ceremony.

Oh, well, I don't think that
anything special is called

for, Sam. I mean, they're
just coming to town to do a job.

Oh, they'll do a job all right, on Cabot
Cove. Have you ever seen that show?

Yep, and so has the
rest of the country, Doctor.

Good publicity means summer
visitors. More trade for the merchants.

Sure was a good idea of
yours, Jessica, this TV exposure.

- Well, honestly, I didn't originate it.
- I believe in giving credit
where credit is due.

Well, gotta see to my haircut.
Want to look good for camera.

You're wrong, Wylie. Paula Roman
loves this town as much as I do.

And she told me that this segment is
going to be like a beautiful postcard.

Oh? And I believe her.

Mmm. I just hope the rest of the
country doesn't become so entranced...

that they come racin' up here in
their trailers and campers and...

- Vans.
- Over here.

No, lift it more this way.

Good Lord! Where's
the electrician?

- Who's gonna get the dolly?
- I'll get the coffee.

Hey, Mike. Bring
the dolly, will ya'?

Young man? Will you kindly get
your equipment out of my flower beds?

Move it, please! Now.
Who's in charge here?

Uh, Mrs. Fletcher? Yes.

I'm Kevin Keats. Oh, how do you
do? Well, uh, where's Miss Roman?

Uh, Paula's been reassigned.
I'll be handling this segment. You?

Oh, oh, uh, I thought...

You see, Miss Roman assured
me that this was not going to be, uh...

Well, a... certain
kind of interview.

- Is-Is this the way you always look?
- Why? Is there anything
wrong with the way I look?

No. It's just that my image
of you is, uh, more homespun.

Oh.

World-famous author, highly

intelligent and sophisticated.

It makes you
wonder, J.B. Fletcher,

how you came to be buried in a
tiny town in the back of Maine...

with people who are, if you'll forgive
me, hardly your intellectual equals?

Uh, let's stop right now, Mr. Keats. I-I'm
sorry, but I really can't allow you...

to insult my friends
and my-my home.

- Uh, look, if this is what you're after,
then you'll have to leave me out of it.
- I'm sorry.

Now I know who the
real tough guy is in this

twosome. Forgive me.
Can we start again?

Yes, of course.

Jessica Beatrice Fletcher.

J.B. Fletcher, writer of best-selling
mystery novels, world traveler...

You could live almost
anywhere in the world.

Why choose Cabot Cove, Maine?

Well, my roots are here,

and I've spent many happy
years with my late husband here.

A sentimental attachment?
Oh, much more than that.

I mean, I'm in touch with
the rest of the world, but, uh...

Well, I can be apart
from it when I need to be.

I mean, take my
house, for instance.

Frank and I bought that drafty,
old place about 30 years ago,

and I-I hung the pictures, and
I-I planted all the little plants,

and I learned how to put
up the storm windows...

But it's still drafty,
you understand?

And this is where Frank died, and,
uh, and where I began a new life.

I don't think I've ever really
thought of living anywhere else.

Is it always this quiet?

On a good day, you can hear the
wind, the ocean and the seagulls.

Mrs. Fletcher!

And which is that?

The darndest thing just happened.
Uh, Amos— Uh, Sheriff Amos Tupper.

How do. I just picked up my new suit,
the one I bought for the television show,

and I was sort of gettin' the feel of
it behind the wheel, and I looked up,

and I saw this helicopter set
down on the bluffs. Hey, cut it!

Do you mind? I'm trying
to talk to Mrs. Fletcher.

Anyhow, this great big
bald-headed fella, he gets out,

and there's this long limousine just
waitin' there to whisk him into town.

I'll bet ya anything he's
one of those TV fellas.

You say this fella
was, uh, big and bald?

Yeah, about 6' 3." Say,
who is this nosy parker?

Uh, Amos, this is Kevin Keats.

Keat— Keats? Oh.

Oh, well, sir, you
look a lot taller on TV.

Amos, you just walked into
the middle of a TV interview.

That so?

Oh, uh, I-I-I-I hope that that
wasn't— Oh, no, no, I had them cut it.

Oh. In any case, Mrs. Fletcher,
your nose is a little shiny.

Uh, makeup! Hair.

You take your time now.
Don't rush it, huh? Thank you.

Sheriff, could I talk
to you? Mm-hmm.

That big fellow you saw arriving— If it's
who I think it is, he could be dangerous.

Dangerous? I may need your
help getting away from him.

No need, sir. I'll just
have him picked up.

On what charge?

Suspicion of being ugly? I'd prefer to
handle it my own way if you don't mind.

Could you arrange to have a boat
for me by sunrise tomorrow morning?

- A boat?
- Yeah. Not too small,
but something I can handle by myself.

Sure. I'll take care of
it personally. Thanks.

Hill House.

Uh, Mr. Keats?
Telephone for you.

It's a lady. You can take it
here at the desk. Thanks.

Uh, for your information,
the, uh, hotel was

once featured in the
National Geographic.

It photographs like a
million dollars inside and out.

If you'd care to set up your
cameras, why, you could take...

Excuse me.

- Hello.
- Hello, you monster.

- Judith, is that you?
- I know what you're doing, Kevin.

Do you understand? I
know what you're up to.

It's not your business anymore,
Judith. Don't intrude in my life.

You really should learn the difference
between an intrusion and a warning.

Don't threaten me.
Don't ever threaten me.

Kevin. Hold on.
We've got to talk.

- I have more important things to do
than waste time with you, Helman.
- Hey, hey. Now, now. Come on.

Putting you on this story was a
change of pace. A fresh approach.

- Don't take it personally.
- Oh, but I do.

Scrutiny's a hit for one
reason, and you're lookin' at him.

They toss out producers like so many
empty beer cans, but I keep rolling along.

So you get off my back before
I do something you'll regret.

- Mornin'.
- Morning, Sheriff.

Well, there she is. Not much to look
at, but Augie Wilkins swears she's yar.

- Yar?
- Easy to handle.

Oh, yeah. Well, I'm sure
she'll do just fine, Sheriff.

Augie Wilkins wanted a hundred dollar
deposit. Paid for it out of my own pocket.

Well, I can't thank you enough.

- Mr. Keats?
- Yeah?

- We haven't talked about
the rental fee yet.
- Right.

And there's my hundred dollars.

You there! Hold it!

I know it's early,

but I thought you'd like to hear
there's nothing to worry about.

The matter has resolved itself.

You're a little late. I've already heard
it live from Paula Roman on the scene.

Let me understand this, Sheriff.

You were waiting here for
Kevin Keats at daybreak. Why?

Mr. Keats asked me to rent a
boat for him. You rented the boat?

Yes, ma'am. A t his request.
Sort of an unofficial favor.

And you are certain that the explosion
was not caused by leaking fuel?

Oh, no, ma'am. It
was a bomb, all right.

Has any evidence been recovered?

Not yet, ma'am, but
I've got divers searching.

Uh, excuse me, Sheriff, but I think
your deputy wants to talk with you.

What is it, Charlie? Sheriff, they
just recovered a body from the water.

It doesn't look like
it'll be easy to identify.

Excuse me, ma'am. Yes.

Uh, this has been a special
report, live from Cabot Cove, Maine,

the scene of the tragic and mysterious
death of anchorman Kevin Keats.

Please stay tuned to this station for
any new developments. I'm Paula Roman.

I don't like this,
Jessica. Not one bit.

Paula, are you all right?

Aside from being somewhat
shattered, I guess I'm just exhausted.

I caught that first morning
flight out of New York, you know.

- Uh, I'm staying at the hotel
if you need a ride.
- Please.

Okay.

Miss Roman, may I express my
condolences on the loss of your colleague.

Yes, thank you, uh, Mr...

I'm George Fish, and it's an
honor to meet you. Thank you.

George manages the hotel. Oh.

The TV folks have set up an
office in the private dining room.

It's this way. A terrible tragedy,
and it's so hard to believe.

Why, only last night poor
Mr. Keats was saying...

how this hotel would
photograph like a million dollars.

Mrs. Fletcher! The
darndest thing just happened.

Great.

We'll keep the sheriff in 'cause
he's part of the story. All right? Nick.

Oh. Yeah, I know, kid, I know.

I didn't expect to see you.
I'm so glad you're here.

Oh, uh, Jessica, this is
Nick Brody. Jessica Fletcher.

Well, how do you
do? Oh, a pleasure.

Like the rest of America, I've been
a fan of Nick Brody and the news.

You're very kind. I
guess I am kind of a... an

institution. Something
like the Staten Island Ferry.

Where's Doug? Uh, Doug
Helman, he's our producer.

Nobody seems to know. He checked in
last night, then left early this morning.

And nobody's seen him since. He
hasn't even called to pick up his messages.

He's probably off climbing
a mountain somewhere.

Well, kid, are you
ready to go to work?

The network wants me
to fill in for Doug. They

want a special on Kevin
in the Scrutiny time slot.

Oh, Nick.

Hey, hey. Kid, that's -
the way it is like it or not.

It's news, and that's
what we peddle.

Why don't you grab some coffee? I'm
going to take another look at this tape.

Sorry. Now I know who the
real tough guy is in this twosome.

I'll take mine black, please.

Jessica, I noticed a strange look
on your face down at the waterfront...

when I told you that I flew in
from New York this morning.

With the amount of traveling that I
do, I know the schedules by heart.

You were on the air
a half-hour before the

first flight from New
York landed in Portland.

I'm such a terrible liar. I don't
know what I'm doing in this business.

I flew in last night
with Doug Helman.

It just seemed a lot easier to lie,
and not because I murdered Kevin.

- Because you spent
the night with him?
- How did you know that?

You didn't recognize
the hotel manager...

which means that you didn't
check into your own room last night.

George Fish is always on
hand to welcome celebrities.

Kevin has been trying
to reach a divorce

agreement with his wife
who lives in California,

and he didn't want
to complicate matters.

He told me that she
phoned last night.

She heard somehow that I was
here, and she threatened him.

Maybe she did more
than just threaten.

- From California?
- Hey, kid.

I've got a call in to Dickie
Abbott at the network. Pick up

the phone, will ya, and tell
him what's going on up here?

Oh, Nick, you're beginning to sound
like a producer. Oh, it's worse than that.

I'm beginning to think like one.

Yeah. Brody.

Come again? What
is this, a conspiracy?

Now Abbott's disappeared.
He left his New York

office last night, and
nobody's seen him since.

What a helluva
way to run a network.

Perhaps the greatest tragedy is
where Kevin Keats met his end.

Urbane, hard-nosed, a
legend in his own time,

a man who faced death a hundred
times in hot spots all around the world,

Keats was blown to
bits in a jerkwater village

where even the
crickets die of boredom,

where the part-time mayor
conducts town business

from a 5x5 room in
the back of his office,

and the sheriff is responsible for
supplying the boat that caused his death.

George, now I insist on seeing
Miss Roman this very minute.

Clara, keep your dress
on. This is not the annual

church social, dear. I've
got some real reporters here.

Lady, do you mind? I'm
trying to get a room here.

You got any messages
for me? Fowler, 231. Fowler.

Sam? Sam, what are
you doing? Funny, Jessica,

I was about to ask
you the same thing.

You got any idea what's
goin' on in this town?

You can't turn around
without some fool

photographer flashin'
a camera in your face.

Sam, when a celebrity is
killed, you have to expect...

This is all your doin'. You
and your publicity seekin'.

- Now just one moment, Sam.
- You talked us into lettin' them
TV cameras into town,

and-and now we're the
laughingstock of the country.

Me, Amos Tupper, the
lot of us. I won't have it.

- Yes, but what's going on is not my fault.
- Not the way I see it
or anybody else either.

Well, what do you
expect me to do about it?

I mean, as long as the
murder remains unsolved,

the media are going
to hang around. Sam...

Then get it solved.

Find out what happened,
Jessica, and get 'em

the hell outta here. Your
mess. You clean it up.

Mr. Fish?

Hill House? George,
this is Jessica Fletcher.

I don't think I care to talk
to you right now, ma'am.

Look, George, if you
want to get rid of the mob

that is cluttering up the
lobby, please help me.

Last evening, I understand
that Mr. Keats's wife called him.

Could you tell me the time and the number
in California that she was calling from?

The time was about 7:00, but,
uh, she wasn't callin' from California.

Left a local number.

Local? 555-8901.

That's the Idle Hour
Motel up near the interstate.

Thank you.

Now, Sheriff, this big
bald man. You're sure

you'd recognize him
if you saw him again?

A big ugly fella like that? Huh,
that's not a face one's likely to forget.

Okay, let's take a look.

Because I love to show
off my art collection.

Oh, that's him! That's the
fella I saw runnin' from the boat.

Run it back.

Freeze it.

Well, I think we've just got us a
sensational ending for our special.

More than that, I hope.

Mr. Ross may hope it ends
there, but I've been promised...

The world lost a great man, Miss
Roman. He was a credit to his profession.

He was a lowdown,
two-timing snake.

I really can't think of anything
good to say about him, living or dead.

Well, 3,000 miles is an awfully long way
to travel to vent your wrath, Mrs. Keats.

Surely, you could have
called him from home.

I thought if we sat
down and talked,

maybe things could
be better between us.

What made you change your mind?

When my taxi
pulled up to the hotel,

I saw Kevin and Paula Roman...

leaving together, and
the way he looked at her...

Why didn't you go back home?

What? And duck a good fight?
I wanted him to know how I felt.

And then when he finally took
my calls, he didn't want to listen.

Then you didn't actually
meet or talk with him at all.

Look, I didn't kill him if
that's what you're getting at.

I wanted him alive
in a courtroom,

where I could watch his face while
my lawyer carved up his assets.

Well, now that he's dead,
I suppose you'll get it all.

I can see how that would
be considered a motive.

Is there a Mrs. Fletcher here?

Excuse me.

Thank you. Hello?

- Jessica?
- Wylie? How did you know where I...

George Fish. You're not the only
detective in town. Is Mrs. Keats there?

- Yes.
- Would you do me a favor?

Ask her how many
toes her husband had?

Uh-huh. Uh, Mrs. Keats...

- Toes?
- It's important.

Uh, Mrs. Keats, how many
toes did your husband have?

Well, 10. Doesn't everyone?

- Wylie— - Unless
she said eight,

the fella I've got lyin' here on the
table is not the late Kevin Keats.

A w, now, doggone it,
Doc, that's impossible.

I saw Kevin Keats
get on that boat.

That may be, but the man whose
remains were fished out of the bay...

had only three
toes on his left foot.

Meaning that he was
injured in the explosion?

No. The other two were removed surgically
some time ago by surgical amputation.

Okay, now, hold it. I want to get
this down. Now which two were they?

Both phalanges of the
third and fourth pedal digits.

I've already called Seth
at his sister's. I figured

if anyone in town were
missing toes, he'd know.

And? No one he ever treated.

Which means that we're
dealing with a stranger.

And we've got a whole lot
of those in town these days.

I've got another
one for you. Huh?

If the dead man isn't Kevin
Keats, then where is Kevin Keats?

Mayor Booth, how
does it feel having

a killer running loose
in your community?

You say there's a killer here. It's
my feelin' he's long gone by now.

Certainly not one of my
neighbors. Outsider for sure.

And what is Sheriff
Tupper doing about

it? Has he requested
help from the state police?

No need. Us Cabot Covers
can handle our own problems.

Be a lot easier without strangers and
outsiders buttin' in. I can tell you that.

Has Sheriff Tupper
explained to your satisfaction...

how a bomb got aboard a
boat that he leased to the victim?

Lady, just point that contraption
in somebody else's direction!

Where the— Where have you been?

I didn't know I was lost. When your office
doesn't know where you are, you are lost.

Nick, look, you are sitting on
the hottest story of the year.

The ratings on this are
going to shoot through

the roof. The network is
going all out on promos.

So, please, Nick, give me
a show to go with that hype.

Listen, while you've been
playing The Little Man Who

Wasn't There, we've been
working our butts off here.

And without Doug Helman,
the indispensable producer.

You don't suppose that Doug
killed Kevin and then split, do you?

My money was on you.

I'm afraid you're both
wrong. Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, Richard Abbott. What was that enigmatic
remark? Have they caught the killer now?

No, but Kevin Keats,
apparently, is very much alive.

You've got to be kidding. No.

If it wasn't Keats they fished
out of the drink, just who was it?

Remember earlier we were
talking about Mr. Helman's absence,

and you joked that he was probably
off somewhere climbing a mountain?

- On the coast of Maine?
- Mountain climbing, frostbite...

The body that was fished out of the harbor
had two toes missing on his left foot.

Doug. Th—That's crazy.

That's unbelievable,
unbelievable.

What a segment.

Keats thought dead.

Keats not dead. Producer dies in mysterious
explosion. You got a real twist there.

Guys, this is gonna be better than
the secret of Al Capone's vaults.

Brody, I want you on this right away. I
want a reedit and rewrite by Wednesday.

And I want Paula in
on this. Where is Paula?

I'm here. So it was
Doug that was killed.

Hey, kid, we need
some changes and fast.

I don't feel like changing.
I need help. Can we talk?

Paula, Paula, we've got a
story to get out. Not now.

Listen, Helman didn't
even want you up here. The

only reason you came
is because Kevin insisted.

Now come on. Now let's get
to work. Let go of me, Nick.

You know where Kevin is,
don't you? You've spoken to him?

Yes, but how did you know? Paula,
you trust me. Who would Kevin trust?

Oh, Jessica, I couldn't believe
it when he called my room.

He had to keep telling me over
and over that I wasn't dreaming.

I was laughing and
crying just like a schoolgirl.

He's going to call back tonight.

When he calls, tell
him that he must come

forward and explain what
happened on that boat.

If he stays in hiding, it could
be too easily misinterpreted.

He's hiding because someone tried
to kill him. He was lucky to escape.

Look, the town is
swarming with reporters,

but I could arrange
for the sheriff to come

to my house this
evening, say, after dark?

All right. If only Doug hadn't
taken me off my assignment.

That's when it began. That was a
ridiculous meeting in Doug's office.

Well, then if that's when it began,
I want to hear about it—everything.

Then you admit that
Mr. Helman forced you to come...

to Cabot Cove for this
assignment against your will?

No, that was a put-on, an act.
Doug and I thought it up together.

I was sure my death
threats were tied in

with the pressure being
put on the network...

for me to drop the story about
my drug-dealing art collector.

So we thought we'd
take the heat off...

by pretending to drop the story
and reassigning me to Cabot Cove.

Why Cabot Cove? Why not go to Nebraska and
cover a boy on a girls' basketball team?

That'd be fine except
for one thing. We had a

secret witness hiding nearby
here in New Hampshire,

who had agreed to talk to me
and only me about Ron Ross...

and some of his other South
American drug connections.

New Hampshire? Two hours by car.

Uh, but you didn't take a car. You took a
boat. That was supposed to be my cover.

Oh, I see. You wanted
everyone to believe that

you were on a boat in
the middle of the harbor,

whereas you were really on
your way to New Hampshire.

Exactly. You know, I really
meant to finish our interview first,

but then along came the sheriff here
and forced me to accelerate my plan.

When'd I do that?

Uh, Amos, I think it was
when you described...

the big fella getting
off the helicopter. Oh.

Gerald Foster.
Ron Ross's enforcer.

With him in town, I
had to disappear. That's

when I asked the
sheriff for the boat.

Augie Wilkins had the
only one in town for rent, and

I couldn't get ahold of
him till around 8:00 at night.

And as soon as I heard
from you, I called Doug in

New York and told him to
get up here on the double.

Now this was the first time that
you formulated your plan? Mm-hmm.

And then he came up here, and you staged
the fight in front of the hotel manager.

- Exactly. Just another part of the act.
- Ah.

Then Mr. Helman was already on
the boat when you got on board?

Funny, I didn't see him.

You weren't supposed to.

See, you or anybody else watching
was supposed to see me get on the boat,

putt-putt out into the harbor.

What they wouldn't see was
Doug take over the helm...

while I slipped over the other
side and swam under the pier.

Mr. Keats, I was standin' right
there when that boat blew up.

Now, you could've come out of hidin'
and hollered to me, but you didn't do that.

No. I didn't. No,
you disappeared.

Where'd you go? What did you do?

I'm sorry. I can't
tell you that.

Well, then I'm afraid I don't
think much of your so-called plan.

It wasn't part of my
plan for the boat to

blow up and lose the
best friend I ever had.

I don't know how Ross's man did
it, but that bomb was meant for me.

No, I don't think it
could've been Ross's man.

Sheriff, what are
you getting at?

Only that if Ross's man somehow
knew that there was going to be a boat,

he'd know which one, and
where it was going to be,

and I didn't even know that
until 8:00 the night before.

Now did you discuss this with
anyone else besides Mr. Helman?

No, and I'm certain
Doug didn't either. I mean,

we'd agreed between us
to keep our plan a secret.

Well, then Mr. Ross's man couldn't
have known you were going out on a boat...

until he followed you.

Seems to me, he couldn't
have set that bomb.

Do you have any trouble
with that, Mrs. Fletcher?

Actually, Amos, no.

Well, I have trouble
with it, Sheriff.

Kevin didn't kill anyone. Why
do you think he turned himself in?

Maybe because he's
a pretty smart fella.

Sorry, ma'am, but it
adds up only one way.

Either Mr. Helman set that
bomb to blow himself up,

or Mr. Keats
here did it for him.

Where's the sheriff?

Sheriff, are there any new
developments in the case? Sorry, fellas.

Has Kevin Keats signed a
confession yet? No statement, fellas.

Has he explained to you where he was
when he disappeared? I can't talk now!

Amos Tupper. Miss Polsby.

First of all, I am not
one of the "fellas," hmm?

And secondly, as society
editor of the Cabot Cove Gazette,

I have a right to
talk to Kevin Keats.

He's in jail, ma'am, and nobody from
the press gets to see him. Nobody, period.

Then why was Paula Roman allowed in? I
have been told that she is in with him now.

Miss Roman is different. It's
personal. Now if you'll excuse me.

Why is she any different
from the rest of us? Sheriff!

Nice, huh? All the
comforts of home.

I never should have let
you talk me into coming in.

And what were you gonna
to do? Run? With your face?

You're almost as famous
as Ronald McDonald.

I don't suppose there's
a lawyer on the way?

Not yet. Look, Kevin, you
know what we have out there?

Three networks, two cables, five
independents and the world press.

As long as you're in here, you belong
to Scrutiny. Brody wants me locked up?

Only until after this special,
the former Kevin Keats's eulogy.

And the sheriff has even
given his permission...

to let you tape your
narration in here.

I don't want to tape my narration
in here. I want outta here!

I'm sorry. Richard and
Nick want you here.

To boost their
precious ratings, huh?

Is this how far
we've come, babe?

To this? Hmm?

Mrs. Keats? Oh,
hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'd ask you to join me, but I've
already finished my daily consumption.

Besides that, I have
an appointment.

An exclusive interview with
something called Scandal U.S.A.

Oh. They're paying me a bundle for
the inside scoop on a lousy marriage.

Well, this won't take long. When your
husband was in hiding, was he with you?

I wish. Is that
what he told you?

No, but something isn't quite right, and
I'm just trying to sort it out, that's all.

Sounds to me like Kevin's sorted
himself right into a life sentence.

Oh, well, it doesn't matter. His career
was probably in the toilet anyway.

Oh?

I think the network was
getting ready to 86 him.

In a fit of paranoia,
the big fellow told me...

that they had conducted a
confidential audience research.

Oh, yes. Miss Roman
mentioned something about that.

Miss Roman was
always up on things.

And you think that this survey might have
had an unfavorable effect on your husband?

It's just a guess.

I have been waiting years
for the great American

public to find out what
I have known all along.

So Long, Mrs. Fletcher.

And if you see my
husband, give him my worst.

Remember me, Mr. Abbott?

I'm Jessica Fletcher. I was
just on my way up to your room.

I was just on my way out.
Can this wait till tomorrow?

Uh, obviously you know about,
uh, Kevin Keats being under arrest?

Uh, yes I do. They should
either charge him with

murder or let him go
if they can't prove it.

Well, surely losing your star anchorman
could really hurt you in the ratings?

Oh, so you've heard
about ratings here in Cabot

Cove. Oh, we've heard
about a lot of things,

including the network
audience survey.

Mrs. Fletcher, that is
supposed to be confidential.

I was hoping that perhaps
you could explain it to me.

Paula said that research
is your area of expertise.

Oh, well, it's
really very simple.

You see, uh, the network
is always testing the

popularity of its programs
by, uh, sampling its audience.

Aha. Paula seemed to feel that, uh, you
were concerned about the latest survey.

Really? Yes.

She also said that you
seemed, well, furtive

when you mentioned
it to Doug Helman.

Does that mean you didn't want
to discuss it in front of the others...

perhaps because of personnel
involvement? Say, one of the three anchors?

Do you read tea leaves too?

Not very well, Mr. Abbott.

If I did, I might be able
to figure out where you

were when your office
was unable to reach you.

Those hours when the bomb
was most likely planted on the boat?

Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but you're
gonna have to forego me as a suspect.

You see, in Television
land, when the, uh,

canoe springs a leak,
one doesn't bail water.

One just looks for a new canoe.

The morning Doug Helman
was killed, I was having breakfast.

In New York, with the
president of another network.

When I heard the news on the radio, I, uh,
chartered a jet right here to Cabot Cove.

I see. And did you get the job?

At this level, one
doesn't, uh, ask for a job,

one lays the groundwork.

Mmm. Wonderful
air you have up here.

Good afternoon, Mrs.
Fletcher. Good afternoon.

Mrs. Fletcher, could you

give us a couple of
minutes of your time, please?

- It's the front door again. Reporters.
- Ah, they'll go away.

Darn! I didn't see that.

- I guess I'm not
in the same class as Seth.
- Or the class he thinks he's in.

You know, it's funny.

I moved up here to Cabot
Cove for the peace and quiet.

Ah, it doesn't really bother me.

Check.

Huh?

Bishop to king. You're
one away from mate.

You mind if I, uh,
freshen up my coffee?

I thought you were
new to this game?

Nope. I merely said I hadn't
been playing as long as Seth.

Who do you think taught me?

I surrender.

Jessica, I know your mind is
elsewhere. Do you want to talk about it?

I just can't stop thinking
about Kevin Keats's story.

That cockeyed plan
he made with Helman?

- There had to be an easier way
to slip out of town.
- Mm-hmm.

- I don't remember telling you that.
- You didn't.

I overheard you talking to
Sheriff Tupper on the phone.

Wylie, give me a
ride down to the jail.

I must be sure.

I must ask you exactly what
you discussed with Mr. Helman...

- when you called him in New York
the night before the murder.
- We covered all that.

I told him about the boat,
what it looked like, where it was.

Uh, I told him about Ross's
enforcer being in town. What else?

And what did he tell you? He said he'd
catch the night plane to Portland, uh...

I wanted him to bring Paula.
He was against the idea.

He thought she'd get in the
way, but I talked him into it.

Did Mr. Helman review the timetable
of your plan? Oh, yeah. Yeah.

Doug was nothing
if not meticulous.

And were you alone
when you made that call?

Mm-hmm. Yeah, I was in my room at
the Hill House. Uh-huh. Was he alone?

Well, I don't know, I...

Yes, as a matter of fact, he
mentioned his secretary leaving early.

Anyway, I'm certain Doug would never
discuss our plan in front of a third party.

What if he didn't know or care
that there was a third party present?

Oh, if you're looking for Paula,
she just called from her room.

I'm not looking for
Paula. Well, I'd love to

chat, but I've got
to finish this rewrite.

I'm afraid you'll have to
change the ending too.

Any suggestions?

You might write about a
respected newsman who'd been

around so long, he's
become a national institution.

He's one of the hosts of
a prime-time news show...

and learns that a fickle
audience prefers the show's

bombastic younger man
and attractive young woman.

It's my guess that that's the upshot
of the network audience survey...

Doug Helman showed you in his
office when he called you in for a meeting.

You were there when Kevin Keats
called Doug Helman from Cabot Cove.

Who told you that? You did.

Listen, Helman didn't
even want you up here.

The only reason you came is because
Kevin insisted. Now come on, sweetheart.

That subject was only discussed on the
phone between Kevin Keats and Doug Helman.

Paula must have let it
slip. I just spoke to Paula.

- She didn't.
- Then Doug told me.

When? He went straight
from his office to the airport.

Next morning, he was
concealed on the boat

before sunrise and
dead a few minutes later.

You had to have
heard that in that office.

Helman told me I was through.

He said he was sorry but, if he didn't
give in to the network on the small things,

he wouldn't get
anywhere on the big ones.

You can guess how
that made me feel.

The phone rang
as I was starting out,

and he turned his back to me.

- So you stayed to listen.
- I knew he was talking to Kevin.

And I was trying to think of something
that would win Kevin over to my side.

Then I became aware of what they
were getting at, what they were setting up.

That's when I got the idea.
It just flashed in my head...

very clear and very terrifying
because I knew I'd do it.

- How did you get to Cabot Cove?
- I drove all night.

It's not that far.
Only 350 miles.

Oh, about the bomb?

Well, you don't get to be a 63-year-old
reporter without learning something.

But what did killing
Mr. Helman solve for you?

He was only following
the network's orders.

Without Helman, I had a better than
even chance of staying with the show.

I had more experience than any of
them. To hell with the audience research.

So I wasn't young,
vicious or even pretty, but

I was the one who
could talk sense to them.

I'm a newsman.
I'm not a performer.

I tried to tell Doug that.

But whatever he started out believing,
in the end, he bought the idea...

that the wrapping paper— the wrapping
paper—was more important than the package.

If you don't mind,
I'd like to finish this

rewrite while we're
waiting for the sheriff.

Just dial nine for
an outside line.