All language subtitles for Murder, She Wrote S03E18 No Laughing Murder.DVDRip.NonHI.en

My God, what happened?

- He's been stabbed in the back.
- Tonight on Murder She Wrote.

- Our potential killer is one of us.
- Holy Christmas.

The only reason you come here tonight is
so you can make a fast buck for yourself.

You are an agent. A
financial genius you are not.

If that lunatic so much as hints
again that I put a shiv in his back...

Corrie, my father does not
go around knifing people.

Oh, dear God. Oh!

♪ And now, the comedy
sensation of 1957!

Let's hear it for
Mack and Murray!

Look who's here, folks— God's
gift to the medical profession.

- My partner, Murray Gruen.
- Go ahead, laugh. Laugh.

You don't know what
it's like livin' with pain.

It isn't that this guy's
a hypochondriac,

but he bought his
tombstone five years ago.

The kinda jokes you tell,
you'll need one before I do.

Last week, he woke
up feeling really good.

He called his doctor to
find out what was wrong.

And if you had your conscience
taken out, it would be minor surgery.

What's that supposed to
mean? Last week in the papers—

"Mack Howard Carries
Partner." Story on page three.

Well, I'm not the one who's out at the
track when I'm supposed to be rehearsing.

Yeah. You're busy snowin' another
young kid with stars in her eyes...

while I'm writing the
material single-handed.

You're writing it?
Come on, Murray. Why

don’t you say what
this is really about, huh?

It's Trudy, isn't it?
No, it's not Trudy.

Listen, I saw her first. The
hell you did! You stole her!

Stole her? Are you kidding?
Hey, look, shorty, I don't need this.

So long, you fugitive from the
home for the criminally stupid.

Good-bye, creep. I never see your
fat head again, it'll be too damn soon.

That's fine with me.
Good-bye, birdbrain.

Please, Mr. Howard. Please,
just a few more questions.

Now, because the cassettes
of your old routines are so hot...

"Anyway, it's better than
two weeks in Philadelphia?"

Ernie.

Ernie, I'm surprised at you.
Tell me you didn't write this.

Tell me something. Tell me you
found it in your grandfather's trunk.

What about the rumors that you and
Murray Gruen might be teaming up again?

You listen to me, young lady.

I don't want to talk about Murray Gruen.
Mack and Murray are over. Forget about it.

But you don't mind taking the
money for those videocassettes.

That's another thing. Somebody's
making a bloody fortune.

It sure the hell ain't
me. I'll tell you that.

Then you're implying
that your former partner

might be, say,
misappropriating the profits.

I'm not implying anything.

Let me just simply say that a
shark doesn't become an angelfish.

Oh, Mack you shouldn't.
Miss Kline, I'm sure

he would much rather
that you didn't quote him.

Oh, come on, Farley. The man
hasn't worked in what, 20 years?

Suddenly he winds
up buying a resort in the

Catskills? You're a
reporter. You figure it out.

- Three minutes, Mr. Howard.
- Yeah.

Mack, I need your
signature on these, or we're

gonna blow those
condos in Puerto Vallarta.

What's it gonna
cost me this time?

Practically zero. I got you 90%
leverage, instant turnabout and leaseback.

Straight into positive cash flow.
And with the write-down— Yeah.

It's all right here.
Aw, whatever.

I just hope this is better than
those other beauties you got me into.

Al. Al, what's this I hear about our
starlet of the week droppin' out on us?

It's okay, big guy. We got us
some bimbo with a talking chimp.

- You know how animals
always do huge numbers.
- Yeah—all over my suit.

Mr. Howard, I understand
that your son and Murray

Gruen's daughter are about
to announce their engagement.

Our readers would like to know, are
you going to be attending the party?

Look, I told you I didn't— Al,
get her out of here, will you?

Mr. Howard, like it or not,
it's news. Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Mack, come on.
You better sign these.

Will somebody please tell
me why everybody in the

Western world knows about
this damn engagement?

Maybe Murray's using it to help
promote the Hiawatha Lodge.

Yeah, and drive me crazy.
Trudy, you look sensational.

Honey, I'm not gonna be
able to go to that thing tonight.

Sorry, but I got a very important
writers' meeting after the taping.

The car's downstairs, darling.

I found your favorite
old tweed jacket. It's

going to be perfect for
you up in the mountains.

Honey, I don't think you quite
understand. This is a very important week.

The ratings are coming out and— I know
that you can explain to Kip and Corrie.

They'll understand. Oh,
of course I will, darling.

And by the way, I do happen
to have a locksmith standing by.

Because if you don't come, don't
bother coming back to the apartment.

Thirty seconds, Mr. Howard. And
there's a Phil Rinker on line four.

Tell him...

Tell him I'll see him at the
lodge later tonight. Yes, sir.

But I am not speaking to
what's his name. Period.

No wonder your stomach's gone bad.
It probably comes from buyin' this place.

I can't believe Farley
would let you do it.

Who let him? Phil, don't you
know aggravation is his life?

That's right. That's
why I keep her around.

Ah, once I get this
place fixed up...

everything will be fine.

- Unless it drives you to drink first.
- Phil, I'm not self-destructive.

Oh, really? Hmm.

The way I figure it, either you pay the
painter or the plumber or the electrician.

What it totals out to is if you
want this place to look good,

use the toilet or see
what you're doing.

At least, if they shut
off the electricity, I

won't have to look at
what's his name's face.

Come on, Murray. You
two guys are gonna see

each other, and it'll
all come right back.

It's come back.

No. The chemistry, I mean.

- The same magic you two guys had
when you were busboys at Grossinger's.
- Look at this.

It's all in here. It's all in
this book—all my symptoms.

The gas, lower-back pain,
rapid heartbeat, headaches.

I've got four months
to live, on the outside.

I always knew that Mack
Howard would be the death of me!

Why couldn't I be so lucky as to
get one nice, compact disease...

that would have killed
me before he got here.

It is only the
kids with Jessica.

Yeah. The kids. That's...

At least one good thing
come out of it. What?

My little daughter
Corrie met a nice guy,

even though it is
what's his name's son.

At least, with
Jessica here, well,

she got someone to take the
place of her departed mother.

God rest her sainted soul.

Look, Corrie, it will be okay,
no matter what happens.

Kip's right, Corrie. But what if
they're just horrible to each other?

Well, then you and I will go
curl up someplace till it's over.

- You remember the deal we made?
- Yeah.

They're them, and we're us.

Look, who knows?
There may be no problem.

Your fathers may fool us
all and get along famously.

- Ta-da!
- Ah!

Still seein' the glass
half full, aren't you, Jess?

Oh, is this— Is—Is this a
great old broad, or what?

Oh. It looks like one of my
guests has developed a nervous tic.

Henrietta, could you find
another one of these someplace?

The last 20 years certainly hasn't
helped our host's table manners.

Murray's not holding his
seltzer too well tonight.

He usually drinks it straight.

Well, maybe I don't know
the proper fork to use,

but I know who I am, and I ain't
never misrepresented myself...

as being from anywhere
except the East Bronx.

Who'd have believed it?
You always were a lousy actor.

Damn it. Stop it, both of you!

I've seen five-year-olds
act more grown up.

Look, I am sorry that Corrie and I
got in the way of your stupid feud,

but, see, we're getting
on with our lives.

Wait a minute, Kip.

Anything that my little Corrie
wants— That's fine with me.

- That's not the way I heard it, pal.
- Well, first off, I'm not your pal, pal.

- Daddy.
- You listen to me, you meatball.

Phil, I thought you
could handle these two.

Just listen.

If I wasn't 100% sure that these two
kids were right for each other, you...

You wouldn't find me within
20 light-years of this... dump.

Mack, Murray. Enough.

Uh, I mean, it's time that you let
someone else say a few words.

Hear, hear!

Uh, while, unfortunately, I haven't
been representing you since, uh,

well, since things fell apart,

I never stopped caring for you,
your wives and your children.

And I want you to know that
I'm thrilled and delighted...

to have our little family
back together again.

Thanks to the beautiful Trudy...

and the estimable
Farley Pressman,

a man whose axiom has
always been, "Buy high, sell low."

Just a minute. Just a minute.

You have both done
awfully well by my advice.

Oh, sure, sure. Like the time you
put me into the oil drillings, remember?

And then three days
later, the bottom fell out.

See how the memory can
reinvent. That's enough.

All right, hold it. Hold it.
I'd like to make a toast.

Kip, Corrie.

Trudy and I, we
love you very much.

I'm sorry about tonight,
that you got thrown smack

dab in the middle of
this stupid family feud.

But, uh, a toast
to the two of you.

Good health, happiness
and a long life together.

Hear, hear.

I'm not drinking any toasts
with any "hieving thypocrites."

A thieving hypocrite.
Look at you.

Big... television star.

Got your own TV
show every night.

With what? With our
jokes from our act.

And if that's not enough,

you makin’ all that dough
of four videocassettes.

- Me?
- Yeah, you!

What are you talkin' about? I
never saw a nickel on that stuff.

It was you who, after all this
time, come up with a lot of scratch...

and finally invested in
something you know nothing about.

Mack. Fellas, I have told you.
There is no money in the damn things.

The profits are all in the rentals,
which, unfortunately, we can't touch.

Believe me. It's all
just pie in the sky.

Farley, that's not
true. I have the figures.

- There are guys who—
- Phil. Phil, excuse me?

Excuse me. You are an agent.
A financial genius you are not.

Murray, don't do this.

Please don't.

Phil, it's not your business.

Maybe you would like
to make it your business.

- Murray.
- Yeah. Yeah.

Probably the only reason
you come here tonight...

is so you can make a
fast buck for yourself...

by putting me and him
back together again.

Well, it's not gonna work. Do
you hear me? It's not gonna work!

You're damn right
it's not gonna work.

No. It's not gonna work.

Excuse me.

You know me. I always
like to exit on a laugh line.

- I'm gonna hit the sack.
- Well.

If Murray doesn't apologize to that
sweet little guy, I'm gonna take a hike.

Oh.

I'm afraid it's a... somewhat less
festive group than we'd hoped for.

Well, there's always the chance that
it'll look better through a brandy glass.

Shall we? Yeah.

The last thing that Doris said
to me before she died was...

that she still hoped that Mack and
Murray would make peace with each other.

Oh, Jessica. You have no idea
how I have tried over the years...

just to get them
talking to each other.

And as for reviving their act, well,
I'm afraid that kind of material...

just wouldn't work
with today's audiences.

Yes, but the videotapes
of their shows...

Oh, that's largely hype. I
suspect a flash in the pan.

Help!

Help!

Oh! Help! Help me!

Oh! Oh! Help! Oh,
it hurts! Somebody!

Daddy! Daddy, what is it?

Murray. Murray. My
God, what happened?

Norma, it hurts.
Oh, my God, it hurts.

- He's been stabbed in the back.
- What?

Yes. Yes, the Hiawatha
Lodge. Take it easy.

Please. Sit down
right over here.

Dr. Worth is coming right over.

That's good. But no hospitals.

People have a strange way...
of not coming out of hospitals.

- You know what I mean?
- Murray, just relax.

Oh, and another
thing— No police.

That's all we need. "Come to Hiawatha
Lodge and get stabbed with a knife."

How fortunate that he
is feeling so little pain.

Hey, it's no big deal. I've been
stabbed in the back plenty times.

Daddy, you've got to
tell us what happened.

Murray, did you see who did. it?

I don't want to accuse
anybody falsely.

I think it best if
we don't disturb it.

You either saw
him or you didn't.

Excuse me. All right. I checked.

All the doors and windows
are locked from the inside.

What are you saying? One of us?

Murray, are you saying that you know
who the person was who attacked you?

Well, n-no. See,
I was in—Ow, ow.

I was in there, and I was
startin' to brush my teeth.

And I was lookin’ in the mirror,

and it felt like this
shadow behind me.

It was— Oh, there was,
like, a flash of color, and—

So I thought it was Norma.

And then I felt this
pain in my back.

Oh!

The flash—What color was it?

Oh. Oh, it was like a deep red.

Oh. Oh, wait a minute here.

Did I say it was you?
I didn't say it was you.

I didn't say I saw whose face
it was. You know what I mean?

Yeah, I know what you mean.
I know exactly what you mean.

Look, I was in our
room watching television.

What—What the hell are
you all looking at me for?

Are you—Are you crazy?
We're getting out of here.

And somebody tell
this lunatic to control his

mouth, or I'll sue him
for the whole nine yards.

Let's go.

Yeah.

Mack, for heaven's sakes.

Jessica, please. Save it, will ya? I
am leaving here with or without Trudy.

That man is committable. Yes,
but somebody did try to kill him.

And if it had been me, you can be
damn sure I would have finished the job.

But he could have been
mistaken about the color.

Oh, Jessica, forget it.

Mack, he didn't
actually accuse you.

Okay, okay. But I'll
tell you one thing...

If that lunatic so much as hints
again that I put a shiv in his back,

I am outta here, okay?

I don't know. It's just the thought of
someone coming up behind him with a knife.

I know. Stuff like that doesn't happen to
people you know, people you're related to.

They're different from us, Kip.

I mean, not just older,
but from another place.

Another place?

What I'm saying is,

maybe we aren't in a position to
know how they might react to old hurts.

Your dad's so... emotional,
so sort of theatrical.

And, uh— And yours isn't.

Corrie, my father does not
go around knifing people.

- How can you be so sure?
- Because...

Because I happen to have known
him for a couple of years. That's why.

Well, in case you've forgotten, he hasn't
exactly got the world's greatest alibi.

Well, I'll tell you something. My
father doesn't care enough about your...

Do you hear us?

Look, Corrie, we weren't
there when it happened.

We don't know.

It's—It's gonna be
whatever it is, but...

we can't let that be
our problem, okay?

Come here.

Absolutely everything
has been left untouched.

The knife on the floor
there, the toothbrush.

The open toothpaste
tube on the sink. Right.

Gee whiz. I mean, wait till I tell my
mom that really is Mack Howard out there.

And, of course, you
write mystery books.

Of course, she doesn't
read half as much as I do,

so I may have to explain
who you are a little.

Oh, yes. Yes, I
understand. Uh, Chief...

Acting Chief Wylie
B. Ledbetter, ma'am.

And what do your
friends call you?

Acting Chief Wylie
B. Ledbetter, ma'am.

Uh, I'd better start
gatherin' up evidence.

Uh, Chief! Um...

Uh, would you like to
borrow my handkerchief?

Possible fingerprints?

Oh, yeah. Uh...

You know, uh, the
thing of it is, ma'am...

Uh, see, Chief Swenson and me...

He's in the hospital havin'
some of that... elective surgery.

Well, the chief and me, mostly we
just write, you know, parking tickets.

I mean, a few drunk-and-disorderlies.
Maybe, once in a great while, a speeder.

Chief, I think that you can
begin with certain assumptions.

Oh, yeah, absolutely.

I mean, for instance, I
think it's very unlikely...

that anyone broke into a house full
of people in order to kill one of them.

Oh, sure. Definitely. Mm-hmm.

Which means that, whether it was
Mack Howard who used that knife or not,

it's fairly certain that our
potential killer is... one of us.

Holy Christmas.

This ointment should
prevent any infection, Murray.

How are you holdin' up,
Wylie? Okay, I guess, Doc.

Chief Swenson certainly picked the
wrong time to have his hemorrhoids fixed.

Uh, Mr. Gruen, uh,
this seems kind of crazy.

You say that you saw someone sneak
up behind you and stab you in the back,

and you don't wanna
press charges?

I never actually
seen who it was.

You think if I knew who
did it, I wouldn't say?

Hey. Hey, Chief.

Uh, how about you don't have to
tell too much to the press about this.

- You know what I mean?
- How much would that be exactly?

Murray, you're a lucky man. The wound was
superficial. Just missed anything vital.

Norma, have him take one of these every
four hours. And I'll write a prescription.

Uh, Mrs. Fletcher, ma'am?

Uh, it might be useful to
get some statements, Chief.

You know, where people
were at the time of the stabbing,

what they heard,
who they were with.

That is a great idea. You...

Um, you wouldn't happen
to have a pencil, would you?

And maybe, uh, a
little piece of paper?

Um...

Damn it. Trudy, what
did I tell you, huh?

I knew it. I just knew it.

Now I'm caught up in that
banana's paranoid fantasy.

Dad, would you please—
- No, no, no, no, no.

I said I was in the
den with Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm sorry, Mr. Pressman.

Uh, well, let's see
what we have here.

Now, Miss Lewis, Miss
Gruen, Mr. Kip Howard...

and, of course, Mr. Mack Howard.

Uh, you all claim you were in your own
bedrooms when Mr. Gruen was attacked.

No, I'm not claiming that,
Officer. That's where I was.

I mean, uh...

Mrs. Howard, you said
you were in the kitchen.

- And Mr. Pressman
was— - In the den...

With Mrs. Fletcher, right.

Okay. Well, that just leaves Mr. Philip
Rinker to get a statement from.

Well, uh, Mr. Rinker
is gone, Chief,

and his overcoat and his
overshoes are missing from his room.

What about his
car? He doesn't drive.

He took a taxi from
the train station.

Phil attacked my father?
No. No way. Not Phil.

I—I agree.

Uh, the man is barely capable
of anger, much less violence.

But why would he
just take off like that?

Well, if he's on foot,
he hasn't gotten very far.

Could he have gone
into town to catch a train?

Uh, Chief, perhaps you could have one
of your officers check the train station?

We haven't got any officers,
ma'am. Chief Swenson and me are it.

But I could have my
mom go take a look.

Oh, that's great.
That's terrific.

Where's your jail,
in your basement?

8-to-5, the kid was
an Eagle Scout.

Tell you another
thing. When I was a girl,

nobody went around gettin'
stabbed in their own house.

Not by their own
friends. No, sirree.

And he never turned
up at the depot?

All right, thank you. No, no,
no. You're doing just fine, Wylie.

I'll talk to you
later. Fine. Bye.

Let me guess. The Cooperville
constable can't find Phil.

I'm afraid not. They're sending
out and all-points bulletin.

Jessica, this just
doesn't make any sense.

That sweet little guy would no more
attack Murray than he would anyone else.

And out there all
night in the cold.

I know. Oh, dear.
You're out of sugar.

Oh, the canister’s just
inside the storeroom. Good.

In the cabinet.
Norma, I wonder...

Could there have been something
from the past between Murray and Phil?

Some animosity? An old hurt?

Good Lord.

Jessica? Jessica, are you all—

Oh, dear God. Oh!

"Murray, I'm sorry I stabbed you, but
I couldn't take your insults anymore.

I'm so ashamed. Phil."

Here's a letter that he
wrote to Murray last year.

Hmm. I wonder where
he got the rope from.

I remember seeing some
rope in here. Yes. Here it is.

Well, I'm no handwriting expert,

but I'm pretty certain that these two
notes were written by the same person.

Look at this rope. It looks like
somebody cut off a piece of it.

It seems to be
the same, all right.

It could have been
cut with this knife here...

and then the remaining
rope put back in the cupboard.

Sure. Sure, and then he—
He stands on the stool...

and—and ties the rope around his
neck and then kicks the stool away.

Well, I won't be needing
your hanky this time, ma'am.

Well, I guess that explains
the whole shootin' match.

He probably died around
midnight, give or take a few hours.

What a waste.

Well, I looked everywhere. Phil's
not up by the lake or anywhere on...

What? What happened?

- Murray?
- No.

It's Phil. He's dead, Farley.

Oh, my God. Suicide.

Mrs. Fletcher found the body hanging
from the rafters in the storeroom.

Storeroom? What storeroom?

And why? Why would he?

Uh, ma'am?

Look, I know you think it's
funny that he was wearing

his overshoes and his
overcoat over his P.J.'s.

But you were in that storeroom.
There's no heat in there.

It's much more than that, Wylie.
Mr. Rinker was a talent agent.

He spent a lifetime dealing with volatile
personalities like Mack and Murray.

I mean, it makes no sense that a barb from
Murray would drive him to commit a murder.

Well, in the note, it says...

I know what the note said, but
Phil had thicker skin than that.

So, you're sayin' that...

I am suggesting
that it's possible...

that someone may
have committed a murder.

But we have the note— in his
own handwriting— and the rope...

and the attempted murder
weapon and this knife.

Wait. No.

No, not Phil.

Phil didn't stab
me. It—It was...

I mean, I think it was
Mack. But not Phil.

Why, Murray? Why not Phil?

Because Phil wouldn't— Phil...

Oh, Jess, could you
hand me a couple aspirin?

I don't even remember
what I said to him.

Daddy, you mustn't
torture yourself.

Mm.

Thank—Thank you.

Look, I loved that old guy.

Honey, I'm...

so sorry about how terrible
this is for your big weekend.

Kip and I will be fine, Daddy.

The important thing
is that you're okay.

Yeah.

Who, Mr. Howard?
Oh, yeah, he's real nice.

Yeah, he's almost
like a regular person.

Well, yeah, of course
I took statements.

Yeah, and I got
the lab report too.

Oh, I'll be right
with you, ma'am.

No, I wasn't mumbling.
And there are no loose ends.

Look, Mr. Rinker stabbed
Mr. Gruen, and then he hung himself.

And that is it. Case closed.

Now, why don't you just go— Uh,
lay back and enjoy your operation?

I gotta go. Yeah, thanks.

I would've thought
he'd been proud of me.

Well, maybe he's a little
envious. I mean, this is your case.

You suppose?

Well, ain't that a hoot? I
mean, him envious of me?

Mm. Uh, that lab report...

Was there anything about
fingerprints on any of those knives?

Uh, no, ma'am, and there
are none on the note either...

except on the very
edges where we held it.

I guess Mr. Rinker
must have worn gloves.

To write a suicide note?

Now, ma'am, there is no
need to go complicating things.

It's-It's—What do they
call that? Open and shut.

Now, I gotta run. Can I give
you a ride down to the lodge?

Wylie, I have
discovered something.

Sorry, ma'am, but if I
don't get down there and

get Mr. Howard's
autograph before he leaves,

my mom will never forgive me.

It would've been awful too— a big star like
him going to jail for attempted murder.

Not an attempted murder,
Wylie. A successful one.

Mr. Rinker was murdered.

Now, ma'am, don't get started
again. He killed himself. I'm afraid not.

I made some measurements
in the storeroom.

And given Mr. Rinker's
height, the length of the rope...

and the distance from the floor
of the storeroom up to the rafter,

Mr. Rinker's feet couldn't possibly
have stretched down to the stool...

which he supposedly was
standing on and kicked away.

Now, may I see that lab report?

Well, sure. It's not
gonna be much help.

Thanks. Ah, let me see.

Here we are—second paragraph.

Exhibit "B" — The knife
Murray was stabbed with.

"Traces of dried white household
enamel embedded in wooden handle grip."

I figured somebody
used it to scrape paint.

With a handle?

Mack's bedroom.

Oh, God.

I feel so responsible
for all this.

Mom, there's no way you could
have known this would happen.

- He's right, Trudy.
- Now, look, Officer.

If—If Phil Rinker
didn't stab Murray,

then whoever did
murdered Phil Rinker.

Right? Not necessarily, Mack.

The killer and Murray's assailant
may be two different people.

It—You're kidding?

Then it could have
been Mack who did it.

Damn it. Corrie, you are determined to
believe the worst about him aren't you?

Corrie and Kip, settle down, the
two of you, huh? Just take it easy.

- Corrie, I don't believe that it was Mack.
- Then who?

I think it was someone who felt he
had the most to lose by you marrying Kip,

someone who is so desperate
to break you two apart...

that he was able to find the
courage to stab himself in the back.

Jessica, that's insane.

I was stabbed in the back at the
sink while I was brushing my teeth.

Well, then you would have
seen his reflection in the mirror,

unless your eyes were closed
and your head was down.

That's it.

My eyes were closed.

Even as a kid, I could never
stand to look at myself in the mouth.

But you said that you
saw a flash of color.

Murray, isn't it true...

that the way you saw the
color of Mack's bathrobe...

and determined that he was
alone and without an alibi...

was by looking
through the peephole...

that you had bored
between your two bedrooms...

before you inflicted the
knife wound on yourself?

Yeah. Yeah.

Daddy, how could
you do such a thing?

Oh, Corrie. I—I did it for you.

I—I did it because...

It's a lie. I did it for me.

Jessica, it was just
the way you said.

I was lookin' through the
peephole, saw Mack in his robe.

He was lookin ‘at the tube,
just like I figured he would.

He was alone,
and I had this plan.

See, I saw this movie
on the late show...

where this guy— Robert Montgomery
or one of those guys, you know—

He suspected his wife was
having an affair with his best friend,

so he killed himself with
the knife stuck in a door,

just the way I set it up.

And this way, he framed
his friend for the murder.

Oh! Help!

Can you believe it?
What kind of a fruitcake

would go around stabbing
himself in the back?

And after all that you'd
been through with Mack.

And I guess Corrie marrying Kip was
just too much for you, right, Murray?

The thought of sharing
a grandson with him...

I had to put a stop to it.

Yeah, then I thought,
if Corrie married him,

every time she went to his folks' house
and they'd tear up a bagel together,

she-she'd say,
"How can I be here...

with a man who tried
to murder my father?"

Oh, Daddy.

Then when you told
me that Phil was dead...

Wow. I didn't know what
to do. I wanted to confess.

I wanted to tell you
the truth, but I was afr...

I was afraid that you'd never talk
to me again, and I love you so much.

Oh, Corrie, daughter,
can you ever forgive me?

I do, Daddy.

I do.

That fruitcake. He
could've killed himself.

Oh, I doubt that, Mack.

What Dr. Worth said about
the knife missing anything vital.

Wait a minute. Phil's
note—the suicide note.

Probably a forgery.

Someone went to a great deal
of trouble to cover up a murder.

But what troubles me is,
who would want to see...

a dear, good-hearted,
harmless man like that dead?

You want to know why, huh?

I'll tell you why. 'Cause
Phil caught him in the act.

Sticking a knife in his
own back— Incredible.

So, Murray, the rocket scientist,
runs it through what passes for a brain,

and he decides, "Got
no choice. Phil's gotta go."

Oh, for God's sake.

Mack, I don't think
that's what happened.

That's the exact same kind of dopey,
warped stories he used to make up...

when we was workin' together
and he would miss rehearsal.

And he would blame,
like it's my fault...

instead of admitting that he
was out with some bimbo...

You got it backwards, pal. You're the
one with all the dumb excuses and the lies.

Look, Jessica, I don't need
this. And in spades for me.

Murray. And Mack. Will you
be quiet? Sit down and listen.

Now, the only way we're going to get to
the bottom of how Phil was murdered...

is when the two of you start talking
to one another like civilized people.

I suppose some good's
gonna come out of all this.

I just hope that
Corrie and Kip and I...

will never let their fathers get within
50 miles of each other ever again.

If only because of their diets. They're
both eating as if it's going out of style.

Don't knock it, Jessica. With their
mouths full, they can't talk to each other.

Strike that. It never
stopped Murray.

Well, did you get it?

I can't find it, Mr. Pressman.

It's tarragon. It's
probably a little jar.

Wylie, what did the
telephone company say?

Oh, um, the only long
distance call yesterday...

was to New York
City at 10:05 p.m.

A company called
Vintage Video Distributing,

but there's no record
of who made the call.

So, what we're left with
is that one of us is a killer.

And lucky us.

We all get to spend
another night together.

Well, don't you ladies
worry yourselves.

I plan on spending the
night here if necessary.

Oh.

Actually, I expect to apprehend
the perpetrator before bedtime.

You know who it is?

Well, uh, not exactly,
but, you know,

these things are usually
just a matter of, you know,

logic and routine police
procedure and like that.

Uh-oh. This bulb is burnt out.

Oh. Here, I'll get you one.

I don't know about you, Jessica,

but our intrepid young constable doesn't
do a whole lot for my sense of security.

On the other hand, he seems to have
matured significantly since last night.

Well, considering his starting
point, I hardly find that reassuring.

Thank you, Farley.

Tell me, in round numbers, how
much do you think you've embezzled...

from Mack and
Murray over the years?

- What?
- Especially recently—
from the videocassette sales.

Is it, uh, two million?
Three million?

Jessica, where in the world
did you come up with that?

Well, I should have arrived at it
the same way that Phil Rinker did...

From hearing Mack and Murray
complain more than once...

about how little they'd
received from the cassette sales.

Perhaps if I had, Phil
would still be alive.

Jessica, may I remind you that my
qualifications as a business manager...

and my reputation for integrity are without
parallel in the entertainment field.

Phil probably thought
so too— Till last night...

when he discovered otherwise a
short time before you killed him.

Is this some sort of joke?

That was always
your problem, Farley.

You never could tell the difference
between a custard pie and a banana peel.

Mack. Hey, Farley.

Just like old days, huh? Where
there's a Mack, there's a Murray.

A funny thing happened to us on
the way to the videocassette store.

An old friend
started to cheat us.

Oh, boys, boys. You're not gonna
be taken in by this woman's fantasies?

Tell us about the
light bulb, Farley.

What? Jessica, why
don't you tell him?

I'm afraid you gave
yourself away, Farley.

This morning, when we were gathered outside
after Phil's body had been discovered,

you came back supposedly
from searching the property.

Supposedly? I
was looking for him.

You asked, "What storeroom?"
as if you’d never been inside it.

When actually, you'd had to
have searched the cabinets...

in order to find the clothesline
you used to hang Phil.

No, no.

That's how you knew the light
bulbs were behind the sugar canister.

Ah.

Yes.

And if this hadn't burned out...

Actually, it's perfectly
good. I loosened it.

Oh. At first, there didn't seem to be any
reason for Phil to have been murdered.

But then I remembered
some things that were said...

last night at dinner about
those, uh, videocassettes.

Mack. Fellas, I have told you.
There is no money in the damn things.

The profits are all in the rentals,
which, unfortunately, we can't touch.

Believe me. It's all
just pie in the sky.

Farley, that's not
true. I have the figures.

- There are guys who—
- Phil. Phil, excuse me?

Excuse me. You are an agent.
A financial genius you are not.

The way Phil looked at you
didn't mean a lot at the time,

but then it started
to make sense.

He'd begun to realize that the
last thing in the world you wanted...

was for Mack and Murray to be in the same
room together to continue that argument.

Yeah, because if we
began to compare notes,

we might have put
two and two together.

You've been feeding our feud
for years just to keep us apart.

You ripped us off for what
the last 30 years? God, Farley.

Several minutes before
Murray wounded himself,

someone here at the lodge placed a call
to a Manhattan videocassette distributor.

I'm sure it was Phil.

It was before the law arrived.

I was just passing his
room, and he stopped me.

He said that he
wanted to talk to me,

that he'd found out the
truth, or at least a part of it...

from a friend in
the distributing firm.

That's when you killed him.

Why, he demanded that I go to both
of you and make a clean breast of it,

make full restitution.

You see, it's been going
on for a long time. I...

Before you broke
up the act. It was...

It was just a few
thousand... at first.

And I meant to pay it back.

But then I— It was
another 10 here...

and then a 20 there and...

- You forged their signatures on checks.
- Yes.

So writing Phil's suicide note wasn't
terribly difficult, not after 30 years.

It may not have
been the first time.

Oh, man.

When the videocassette deal came
up, I sensed that my timing was right,

that this might really take off.

So I faked your signatures
on powers-of-attorney,

and I set up a
dummy corporation.

And you skimmed most
of that money for yourself.

And all these years, I've been
scratchin' for a buck. Wow.

I never meant to hurt Phil.

But everybody was with Murray
or in the den waiting for the police.

I never meant to hurt him.

I offered him money.
I offered him anything.

But he just looked at
me... like I was vermin.

He said that he couldn't.

He said that— He said that
he loved you guys too much.

I'm sorry.

I'm—I'm so sorry.

♪

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.

Hold it, guys. Hold it.
Thank you very much. ♪

Good evening and welcome to our
show. Got a wonderful program for you.

But before we get under
way with our regular

show, I got a little
introduction I wanna make.

I want you to make
him feel welcome, okay?

Ladies and gentlemen, I'd
like you to meet him right now.

A very old friend of mine. His
name is, uh— What's his name?

Let's make him feel at
home— Mr. Murray Gruen!

Hello, Mack. Welcome.
Stand over here, Murray.

Why? Well, you know,
'cause you talk like this.

If I stood there and you're talking
here, I couldn't hear you there.

How about that? They
remembered, huh? We remember!

Yeah, and you owe
me three million bucks.

Well, so long,
folks. No. No, no.

No, no. You stay here.

I never thought I'd see it.

Of course I'm here. No,
you're not, and I can prove it.

Prove it. Are you
in Philadelphia?

You will be back in time for Kip and
Corrie's wedding, won't you, Norma?

Well, I'll try, but
you never know.

I might just get lucky and meet
Mr. Right on the Champs-Élysées.

You're not in San Francisco.
You're not in Pittsburgh.

If you're not there, you gotta
be someplace else, right? Right.

If you're someplace else,
you can't be here. Right.

Ohh. Ohh. Let's go, folks.

More! More!

Well, actually, I am here.

And, Mack, I gotta
be here in this town.

You see, I met this—

I met this broad here
in this town, and—

She kinda expects me...

to take her on a honeymoon.

Honeymoon? Honeymoon?

Oh! That's great.

A honeymoon!