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 are going to catch a plane and you are 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.

Amen!

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.

New Orleans 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 Jr.! Drink with us.

Jessica, you remember Daddy Coop's mama.

Emma, Jessica and I volunteer 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's 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.

But the way these people are carrying on,

"His greatness and his love."

My daddy was no saint.

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

What kind of trouble, Emma?

Storm's 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,

and 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.

I 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,

into the Marines, into the police,

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

I always hoped...

Now it's too late for them.

Yeah. Nice, guys. Nice.

Bring 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.

And 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. Uh-huh.

Who is that?

We used to call Andy Henley "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...

Here you go, sir. ...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.

If you ask me, it's stupid. It ain't safe driving around in weather like this.

Especially the way you do it.

Every birthday you get 10 miles slower.

Pretty soon you'll be backing up when you ought to be going forward.

I wonder where Jack Lee is? He said he was gonna be here.

Jack Lee?

I 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.

Well, I suppose that Johnson surprised whoever was searching here.

You got any idea what they were looking for?

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

We just can't tell till 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?

Habit.

What does your habit tell you about this?

This mark on his neck, here.

Could have been strangled with a rope.

A rope with a knot in it.

No, it's too perfect.

Yeah. A prefect square.

This family's been living on borrowed time for 20 years,

and now the devil will have his due.

What does 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 all the trouble ends. Forever.

I don't know what you want.

He's gone.

He'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.

Oh, 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?

Mmm-hmm.

She came out of nowhere.

Made this one album with Daddy and she died soon after.

Nobody knows...

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 steal.

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. You can...

I've already read it.

Lieutenant Foret 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?

Yes, 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?

Ooh, I just felt an icy 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, most of the major sights, 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?

You 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 is 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 you up at 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 make it smooth for this lady. Yes, sir.

Homicide. Hold on.

Coop.

Yeah. It's yours.

Yeah.

You have something I want.

Yes, I do.

Give it up and all the trouble ends. Forever.

How?

Tomorrow night. The old cemetery on Grant Street.

Come after dark. Leave it at the tomb marked "Villard." You have that?

Yeah, I got it. And then 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, the singer.

A beautiful woman of color, with a smile that would kill a cat.

Then you knew her?

Oh, no.

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

Then she died.

Oh, yeah, I remember. Strangled.

Quite a scandal there for a minute.

I was pretty young, but I remember.

Is the time concerning you? Should we...

Oh, no. No. It's just that...

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 a walk through the past?

Well, all right. Fine. Where is it?

At home.

The Henley mansion.

Formerly, the Henley plantation.

Wonderful, aren't they?

Oh, yeah!

That one. If that one looks like a Monet, it is.

Oh, yes.

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? Hmm.

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?

Andy?

Andy, are you hiding?

I 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.

Oh. They hid people in here during the Civil War.

And who is... That?

That is my father,

the judge.

A 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 a Henley.

Despite the circumstances,

it's nice of you to visit Miss Melinda.

She brightens up a bit when you come around.

Oh. Thank you, Gene.

May I ask you a question?

Mmm-hmm.

You've worked for the Coops for so long...

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

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

Freeze!

I'm afraid 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.

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 a Luna Santee.

Yes. Allow me, ma'am.

Thank you.

Well, Your Honor.

Mrs. 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.

Mrs. 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 supposed his son might have done it.

Well, you see, the lady was Daddy Coop's mistress.

You say you thought the son...

Yes. John Jr. Wasn't he about your age, Andy?

He would've 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 unshakeable alibi,

so we released him. It was all hushed up.

No sense ruining a career without any proof.

Now, how are we gonna 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 of your dragons.

Morning, Gene.

What'd you do to your arm there?

Nothing important.

Got some fresh lemonade here. Still cold.

Sure is 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 Mrs. 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 who gave a hank about her?

Somebody who might want revenge for her murder?

Policemen.

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'd hurt 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, Mama.

I'm glad you're here.

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've asked him, a long time ago.

Instead you closed the door.

I thought he did it.

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... 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.

What's going on?

Are you prepared to talk about that shooting last night?

For instance, why were you in the graveyard?

And who fired at you? And,

just how is your family mixed up in all this?

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

Un-uh.

You're gonna give me your gun and your badge. It's a suspension.

Temporary. Pending an investigation.

That is, unless you're willing to tell me everything.

When I know, I'll tell you.

Fair enough.

Oh, John.

Are you 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. And 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.

Okay, keeping time from the top.

Some people keep the peace and some keep up the pace

Looking under every nickel for a dime

But I'm just sitting here in this old rocking 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.

I remember the night the moon made me crazy

Stealing time...

"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. He 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.

That'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? A photograph?

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.

Let me see. Hold on a second.

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've 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 tacked. Not tacked like a normal canvas.

It's all stapled.

Maybe there's something underneath it.

Here, 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've 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've 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.

And 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've 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. 19.

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 gonna happen to my father.

Son! I had the police follow you.

No more, Andy.

It's all over.

Papa, I'm so sorry.

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, his family

and his friends, dedicate this museum.