Original subtitles

Oh!

If the government pulls the rug out from under us,

this whole thing could fall to pieces.

Jessica, this is Marika Valenti.

Marika here's helped the police solve several murders with her psychic powers.

Daddy's disappeared.

I have a terrible feeling he's not coming back.

An intruder opens the door and quietly comes into the room.

There was definitely a woman here last night.

Tell me about $150 million.

Don't you realize that breaking into privileged files is a form of stealing?

He's dead. Buck is dead.

No!

Ever since I found out, I've been in shock.

Well, I can certainly understand that.

When I was your age, I wanted desperately to be completely independent.

I wanna be a really good book editor.

And I wanted to be a good teacher.

Yeah, but your father didn't buy the school.

Mine's negotiating to buy the publishing house.

Which would make him my publisher.

And my boss.

Goodbye credibility. Once again, I'd be a rich kid

dabbling in one of Daddy's companies.

Well, I can certainly testify

for your excellence as an editor.

And as you know, I'm not that easy to please.

Simon Legree in a skirt.

Maybe not that bad.

Are you sure you don't mind having dinner with Daddy? He was so insistent.

Of course not. Certainly not. I'm looking forward to meeting your father.

He just bought the Lazy L steakhouse chain,

and he's opening one in New York City tonight.

That's where we're going to meet him. Oh!

I've eaten in a Lazy L, and they have a very nice, down-home, family atmosphere.

Very nice.

Daddy's changed the name to Buck's Buckaroo.

I'm not sure the atmosphere's gonna be quite the same as you remember.

Open wide, Mr. Wilson!

You are so right. The Lazy L was never like this.

I should have warned you. Wow.

Dad!

One more.

Daddy! Daddy!

Oh, hi, baby!

How is my little girl?

Just fine.

This here is Molly. Molly, this is my daughter, Sally.

Hi. Hello.

And you just got to be Jessica Fletcher.

And you just got to be Buck Wilson.

Sally must've told you. I'm thinking about buying your publishing house.

Well, as you well know, Mr. Wilson, it's not mine to sell.

Of course not. Else, come next Friday,

you'd be richer by $19 million.

And that's just the down payment.

Buck, we've been looking all over for you. Haven't we, George?

Well, just about. Hello, Sally!

Why, sugar, I didn't know you were gonna be here.

Don't you look wonderful?

Jessica, this is my Uncle George and Aunt Janine Foster.

This is Mrs. Fletcher.

Hello.

How do you do? Nice to meet you.

George! Did you make sure the '36 Caddy'd get to Pasadena in time

for the classic car show?

Yes, sir. It was picked up this afternoon, and it's on its way.

Buck, I gotta talk to you for a minute.

Excuse us, ladies.

Leave it to George to interrupt pleasure with business.

I'm sorry, but these rumors keep growing about a possible investigation

into the corporation's financial affairs.

Let them investigate. I got nothing to hide.

Well, it's certainly colorful compared to the Lazy L.

The word is garish, Mrs. Fletcher.

Buck has this publicity woman to think up gimmicks,

and this time it's a phony psychic to predict incredible success

for the Buckaroo chain.

Yes. I think I read about that in a Wall Street paper. Maria something?

Marika.

Buck, we are not that protected.

If the government pulls the rug out from under us,

this whole thing could fall to pieces.

I gotta say, it wasn't the right time to buy this damn white elephant.

Here, George. This little lady'll take your mind off your troubles.

Who's your friend, cowboy?

Just feed the boy, darlin'.

All you have to do is open your mouth, George. Molly does the rest.

Come on, Jessica.

There's somebody I want you to meet.

Open up.

There you go.

Open up again.

I see a handsome man from Oklahoma with a stylish woman from Maine

bearing a remarkable resemblance to the writer, J.B. Fletcher.

Am I close?

Right on the money. This woman has second sight.

Are you sure you didn't see our reflections in your crystal ball?

Jessica, this is Marika Valenti.

She doesn't need that prop crystal ball. She's a real psychic.

Well, I'm very pleased to meet you.

I've been looking forward to it.

We have something in common.

Marika here's helped the police solve several murders with her psychic powers.

I keep tellin' Marika she should write about her experiences.

I bet you could help her on that, couldn't you, Jessica?

Well, now, I'm not sure...

So, this is where you went! Hello, Marika.

Forecasting the future of steakhouses?

Next thing you know, you'll be writing a column for the Wall Street Journal.

Try the filet, honey. I had it flown in from Fort Worth this afternoon.

Doggone it, we ought to see each other more often.

Well, I hope that's not why you're tryin' to buy that publishing company.

Would that be so terrible? This old boy's about had it.

I'm gonna have my driver run me up to Westchester.

I know you're very busy, Jessica. Thanks for makin' the time to stop by.

I enjoyed it.

Bye now. Take care of yourself.

Bye, Daddy.

So long, Marika.

And remember, the fates have gotta be with Buck's Buckaroo.

There's a roomful of rich investors here,

and rich investors want happy futures.

I trade in the futures, Mr. Wilson.

Good night. Good night.

Good night.

Let's get out of here, Jessica.

Yeah. And find somewhere quiet for a light dinner.

I like your father, but I'm not sure about his taste in restaurants.

Sally! Mrs. Fletcher...

Hi, B.J. We were just leaving.

Why? I mean, I thought Daddy was going to meet you for dinner.

Oh, so did we, but he said he was tired and went home.

How long ago?

Oh, just a minute ago.

He went out back. Probably to avoid all these people.

Thanks. Well, what's the rush?

You'll see him in the office tomorrow morning.

Can't wait.

Mr. Wilson?

Mrs. Oates, well, you nearly scared the life out of me.

Well, I'm sorry, but I heard someone moving about.

I was just fixing myself a nightcap.

And a little snack.

I thought you went to Poughkeepsie to see a friend.

Oh, I was going to, but my friend got sick.

Weren't you intending to stay in the city tonight?

I changed my mind.

Oh. Will Mr. and Mrs. Foster be changing their plans, too?

No, they're stayin' over. I just didn't feel too good.

Well, why don't you go up to bed and I'll just bring your...

Well, because I don't want you to. Now, damn it, go on. I'll handle this.

Good night, then, Mr. Wilson.

Good night, Mrs. Oates.

You can get out now, Janine. We're home.

Don't tell me what to do. Eating junk food out of that girl's hand.

Did it do something for your manhood?

Then you left me standing there like a fool while you disappeared.

I told you I saw Buck heading for the door

and I wanted to talk to him before he left!

Keep your voice down.

Why?

There's nobody here but us.

Buck probably has a little something cooking in town.

But you don't want to know about that, do you?

Oh, grow up!

Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Wilson?

Mr. Wilson, are you coming down to breakfast?

Buck! You decent?

Where's my brother?

I don't know. He didn't come down to breakfast this morning.

He has steak and eggs every morning when he's home. Except today.

What is goin' on? Buck never drops towels on the floor.

What is this ashtray doing here?

Buck quit smoking 30 years ago.

Mrs. Oates, take a look at this. Tell me what you see.

Lipstick.

And then I thought, "Why shouldn't Cynthia Louise

"put her husband's body in the freezer?"

That's Page 94 in the manuscript.

Hang on a second, here. You've got an advantage over me.

You wrote this. Takes me a little longer.

Here we go. Oh, yes, this is much better.

I must say, I much prefer workin' in your apartment than in my office.

It's nice to get away from the feelin' that Daddy's lookin' over my shoulder.

You know, Sally, I'm not sure that your relationship with your father

is in as much trouble as you seem to think it is.

Well, you can't judge from last night.

Daddy's a charmer, but he can't stand not gettin' his own way.

Anyway, enough of that.

I'm ready to go over the last chapter if you are.

Well, you know, I think I've solved that nasty little problem.

Excuse me.

Hello?

Oh, good morning, B.J.

I'm sorry to disturb you, Jessica, but Sally's office said she was with you.

Yes. She is. Hang on.

Beej, is everything okay?

No. Daddy's disappeared.

What do you mean, disappeared?

I mean, he's vanished from the face of the Earth.

Oh, Sally, I am so glad that you're here.

Has anyone heard from Daddy?

Not a word.

Oh, Jessica, this is Mrs. Oates.

She brought me up after my mother died.

Hello.

I saw B.J.'s car in the driveway.

Oh, he just went toward the garage with Tom Jarrow.

Tom practically lived here when he was B.J.'s grade school buddy.

Come in.

Carl, did you happen to see Mr. Wilson this morning?

No, I didn't.

When did you see him last?

Last night when I drove him home.

Uh-huh. We got back from the city about 10:30.

Who was he with?

Nobody. He was alone.

Stop anywhere along the way?

Once, at a gas station. The limo was running low.

Was a woman waiting for him?

No. All we picked up was a full tank of gas.

Was the woman already here when you got back to the house?

I didn't see any woman. Mr. Wilson went into the house alone.

And then what did you do, Carl?

I drove the limo back here and parked it.

Mr. Wilson take the limo out last night?

No, the keys were on my dresser in my room.

They were still there this morning.

He could have driven one of the other cars. Open it up.

Oh, boy, B.J. You remember when we were kids,

pretending we were driving these beauties?

It was perfect.

Yep.

One thing's for sure, he would have been noticed

if he'd driven away in one of those.

And Daddy sure as hell wasn't one for walkin'.

Janine is up in her room with a cold compress.

I've been on the phone all morning,

but nobody at the office has heard from him, either.

There are a lot of important matters that can't be resolved without Buck.

Well, can't you take care of them, Uncle George?

You have some authority in the company.

Not enough. Buck doesn't like to share it with anybody.

Here we are, Tom. The brat.

Hello, Sally.

Old Tom was afraid you wouldn't remember him.

Not remember the man I had a tremendous crush on when I was 10?

Uncle George, I'd like to talk business with you in the den.

It's about time somebody wanted to talk business. Excuse us, please.

Tom Jarrow, I want you to meet Mrs. Fletcher.

Hello, Tom.

The mystery writer. I'm a big fan.

Well, thank you. Did you find anything out back?

The chauffeur swore he drove Buck home alone.

I saw two brandy glasses on the tray in Buck's bedroom

and lipstick on a cigarette in his bathroom.

There was definitely a woman here last night.

I wonder if it was the waitress from the steakhouse.

She seemed like his type.

What type is that?

Good-looking women who call him "cowboy."

You know her name?

Molly, but he called her "darlin'."

That's what he calls most women he likes.

Well, I'm sure the steakhouse would have her name on file, right?

Why don't I give them a call, since I need to get back to the office, anyway?

Okay, I'll walk you out.

It's not like Buck to take off without tellin' me when he'll be back.

Well, maybe he left in a hurry and didn't know when.

Without his wallet, his watch or his keys?

I have a terrible feeling he's not coming back.

B.J., if your dad knew that you had been hacking around

in the corporation's computer files, he'd skin you alive.

I was going to tell him myself last night at the steakhouse,

but he ran off before I had a chance to talk with him.

Don't you realize that breaking into privileged files is a form of stealing?

I had to!

What with the rumors of an investigation...

Hell, Uncle George, the Wall Street Journal was calling every day.

And Daddy's good friend, the Senator, wouldn't return my phone calls

even when I used his name. I had to find out how deep it went

and what the committee might find.

It's bad, Uncle George. I couldn't understand half of it,

but one thing I do understand is that huge sums of money

were shifted from every arm of this company.

Look, some kind of complicated transactions require extreme measures.

Now, your dad has been negotiating with that publishing house.

Don't you get it, Uncle George?

This has nothing to do with negotiations.

Now, a grand total of $150 million

has been electronically transferred into several different bank accounts.

And that money, in turn, was recently

withdrawn in the form of cash and bearer bonds.

You better be careful what you're saying.

Well, it's one hell of a coincidence, don't you think?

Both Daddy and the money disappearing

just when the entire corporate structure's about to go smack down the toilet.

B.J., I hope that you are not stupid enough to think that your father could possibly

do anything that would ruin all of us.

Do it?

Uncle George, he's done it.

I got it, Mrs. Oates!

Marika.

I had to come.

I had a premonition something happened to your brother.

Premonition?

I wondered why he was so eager to have us meet. Now I understand.

He too had a premonition. He knew that we would have to work together

to solve this mystery.

Well, I'm not sure that I...

Jessica, you must. Please.

I don't understand what she's doin'.

Well, she is looking for the right object to use in psychometry.

I don't think I ever heard that word before in my life.

Well, it has to do with using an object to

divine something about the person who owns it.

He's dead. Buck is dead.

Oh, no.

No!

Mrs. Oates. I was asked to invite you to a demonstration of psychometry in the lanai.

Oh, yes. Thank you. I'm crazy about that stuff.

Oh, I don't think you've met Carl Graham, Mr. Wilson's driver.

This is Jessica Fletcher, a friend of Sally's.

Yeah.

How do you do, Carl? I'd like to ask you, too...

Haven't I answered enough questions?

I didn't drive a woman here last night, I didn't drive one away this morning.

Look, I was only going to ask you if you'd like to join us in the lanai.

Marika Valenti, the psychic, made a point of asking that everyone should be there.

I got better ways to waste my time.

What got into him? He never even touched his apple pie.

I want absolute silence, so I can focus my thoughts on Buck's favorite photograph.

Don't be alarmed by anything I might say. Please don't cry out,

or my concentration will be broken.

I see Buck asleep in his bed.

An intruder opens the door and quietly comes into the room.

I cannot see a face.

I sense that the intruder is someone with a guilty secret,

and in the right hand, a gun with a silencer.

Buck senses the danger and wakes. He starts to get up.

The intruder fires. Buck falls back on the bed.

The intruder uses a pillow case to mop up the blood,

then tosses it under the bed.

The intruder lifts Buck's body and carries him out,

like one might carry a child.

I feel the presence of someone else.

Someone in the bathroom, listening. A witness to the murder.

Jessica, have I given you enough?

Is there any more to tell?

Yes, but I find myself turning from it with dread, wanting it not to be so.

We must hear it all.

I see a chamber in the ground.

So very dark, so very cold.

A grave. But not an ordinary grave.

A deep shaft, a well.

An old well.

Buck's body is thrown there by the killer.

Now, I don't believe this! My father is alive.

Shh! You'll break her concentration.

I don't give a damn.

Sally, wait a minute.

I've had enough of these horrible party games!

Tom, she's talking about the old well. I know where it is.

There's a picture of it in the den.

Show me.

An oil well.

Look what he wrote on it, in the corner.

"First gusher. Tulsa, 1950." An old well. Daddy's first.

Yeah, but you don't seriously think somebody killed your father

and brought his body back to an Oklahoma oil field in the middle of the night.

Maybe. The corporate jet's only 10 minutes from here.

I checked it out as soon as you said he was missing. The jet's still there.

Your father never came near it, dead or alive.

But you don't believe he's dead, do you?

No. Why?

I have my reasons.

Psychometric readings. They always give me a migraine.

It was very impressive. I can certainly see how your special talents

could help the police to solve murders, wherever that was.

London. Scotland Yard had called me in several times.

How absolutely fascinating. And did you locate victims or murderers?

How can you ask me so many questions?

Can't you see I'm suffering?

Oh, I'm so sorry. It's just that this subject is so interesting to me.

Please excuse me. I have the need of some fresh air.

That awful woman. Jessica, I'm sorry for runnin' out like that.

No need to be. I almost ran out with you. But something puzzles me.

Sally, did your father have any maps of this property?

There's no indication of a well on the property.

You sound disappointed.

I wanted to find it and prove that Marika was wrong.

Have you got a magnifying glass?

Thanks.

Yes. Just as I thought.

Did you find a well?

No, but I found something else.

A circle with a "C" in it. We'll meet Tom here first thing in the morning.

I called the steakhouse and got the telephone number of the waitress.

What'd she say?

After work she went home with her husband who's a pastry chef in the kitchen.

Apparently harmless flirting with the customers

was all part of the fun at Buck's Buckaroo.

It's right here.

What is it? The old well?

No, it's not a well, it's a cistern for storing rain water,

according to the map.

Let's have a look.

Oh!

Marika.

It wasn't some stranger who sneaked up on her while she was talking a walk.

She was shot at close range through the heart.

Apparently, she knew everyone in the house, including Buck's driver, Carl Graham.

In fact, I invited him to join us at the reading last night,

but when I mentioned Marika Valenti's name,

he bolted out of the room, white as a sheet.

Didn't even touch the food that Mrs. Oates had set out for him.

Maybe he was afraid that she'd contradict his lie.

What lie was that?

Well, I listened carefully to Marika's so-called reading last night.

I think that she was the woman in Buck Wilson's bathroom.

I mean, not even a psychic could divine that much detail.

Then Carl must have driven her back up here last night with Buck.

He lives right next to the garage.

You can see it from here.

I imagine that he can see us, too.

Carl, it's Police Sergeant Tom Jarrow.

Can you open the door, please?

I knew you were coming.

Yeah, I see. But I guess you were hoping you'd be out of here first, right?

I swear on my mother's grave, I didn't kill that woman.

How did you know it was a woman, Carl,

considering I didn't mention it?

I saw from my window when her body was being recovered.

And why did you lie about driving her here?

Well, Mr. Wilson told me not to tell anybody.

He's always been good to me. I do what he says.

Had you ever driven the Valenti woman up here, before?

No.

But Mr. Wilson was seeing her?

Yeah, he usually met her at a New York hotel.

Last night he thought he'd have the house to himself.

And you took her back to the city early yesterday morning?

I was supposed to, but she asked me to drop her at a motel

a couple of miles from here.

I was glad I didn't have to make the round trip.

What do you got, Steve?

I turned the room inside out. No murder weapon.

All right. Read him his rights, take him in and get a signed statement.

Got it.

What do you think of the Valenti woman?

Evidently she was a psychic who made house calls.

Which reminds me, I have a phone call to make myself.

You don't know what you're talking about. Just try to listen.

I don't want to hear any more. Could you do that?

Because you've got a reality problem! Oh, God!

You know... Ooh. Watch it.

Did you hear him, Jessica?

Well, I heard raised voices and I believe that one of them was yours.

Sally, I'd keep this in the family.

My brother has lost his mind.

He thinks Marika made up all that stuff about Daddy being dead,

and that he's alive and hidin' somewhere on the grounds.

Well, isn't that what you believe?

I never said he was hidin'.

That's somethin' that you and Tom used to do when we were kids.

Yes, but why would Marika pretend that your father was dead?

I think Buck asked her to.

Why?

So we'd stop lookin' for him, and he'd have time to get away

with the $150 million he stole from the corporation.

I hope you're just tryin' to impress Jessica with your fiction,

and you're not gonna say anything like that to Tom Jarrow.

It's true.

You're the one with the reality problem.

Now, tell me about $150 million.

Hello, Tom. Hi.

If you're looking for B.J., he decided to go into his office.

Actually, it's Sally I've come to see.

Sally really isn't feeling very well just now.

Oh?

Well, would you mind if I looked in on her?

She doesn't want to be disturbed, Tom. I'm sorry.

Thanks.

Tom Jarrow's a nice man. He likes you.

He doesn't deserve to be treated like that.

I wish you'd just please mind your own business.

Mrs. Oates...

Mrs. Oates!

Mrs. Oates?

What is it?

I'm sorry, Mr. Foster. I just can't bear seeing this family come apart like this.

And I am listening to what Buck's own son is saying about him.

Oh, come on. That's just B.J.'s immaturity showing.

I've been in this house over 20 years, Mr. Foster.

Long enough to see the children grown,

and you get to know a lot about a person in that time.

Mr. Wilson doesn't have a crooked bone in his body.

I know that.

Listen, you know what I think?

I'm betting old Buck is gonna come walking back in here any minute as big as life.

He's probably off on one of those goofy adventures of his.

He'll be back.

Yes, this is Jessica Fletcher. Hello? Inspector Moss?

Well, it's been a while since I've heard your voice.

Yes, I remember you vividly from your last trip to London.

I understand you've made an inquiry about a woman named Marika Valenti?

Yes, she claimed to have assisted the Yard in solving some murders?

There's no record of her assistance.

However, I did come across the name in quite a different context.

Marika Valenti is one of the aliases used by a woman

who has been arrested three times on suspicion of blackmail.

Blackmail?

Yes, but each time the charge was dropped when the alleged victim refused to testify

in open court.

By the way, her MO was always the same. She pretended to be a psychic.

Thank you, Inspector. You've been a great help. My best to your wife.

Goodbye.

Jessica...

That was a very interesting conversation.

This has all been too much for me.

I can't stay in this house any longer. Let's go back to New York

and finish workin' on your book.

Oh, my book can wait.

You don't understand. I have to get away from this place.

I can't even face Tom Jarrow after the things that B.J. said.

Forget those things. I want to ask you about something else that B.J. said.

That he and Tom used to hide from you all the time.

We were kids.

Well, the property can't have changed that much.

Did they have several hideouts or just one?

Just one, the garage. They used to lock me out and play in Daddy's old cars.

Oh. Are those old cars still there?

Yes, the last time I looked. Why?

When B.J. and I weren't playing around in these old cars,

we'd hide out here in the workshop.

We'd grab a cot and a couple of chairs with food and water,

we could live out here for days.

Sergeant! Come over here. Quick.

Daddy!

Why would anyone kill Daddy? He didn't have an enemy in the world.

I'm sure your father was a very good man.

I think it's pretty clear his killer's already in custody.

Carl? He worshipped Mr. Wilson.

He was the only one who would give him the job.

He was an ex-convict, Mrs. Oates.

Mr. Wilson believed that people could change.

Let's go inside. I'll make you some of that nice tea that you like so well.

Tom...

Yeah. I've still got some things to do. You go inside. I'll be right with you, okay?

I promise.

Did you find something, Mrs. Fletcher?

You know, that oil stain there is recent.

Was there a 1936 Cadillac parked here?

If you got that from this oil spot, I want to take your class.

That can be arranged. No, no. The truth is that I remember Buck

talking about a Cadillac that he was going to ship somewhere,

I wish I could recall where.

Well, B.J. said his dad was going to have all the classic cars

shipped to the Oklahoma ranch.

Oh, I think I would have remembered that.

Mrs. Fletcher, finding the body in the garage

sort of cinches the case against Carl.

I mean, this was his domain. He lived just next door.

He knew the people in the house rarely came out here anymore,

and figured it was the perfect place to stash Buck's body

after he pulled it from the cistern.

But you don't buy that, do you?

What motive did Carl have for killing Buck?

Well, I'm sure you know about the 150 million B.J. said his dad

misappropriated from the company.

Yes, but did Carl know about it?

It was a lot of money. I mean, Buck must've

brought it home a briefcase-full at a time.

Unless, of course, he got careless and opened it up while inside the limo.

Yeah, but where's the money now?

I mean, your officer searched Carl's room for the murder weapon.

I'm sure he would have told you if he'd found $150 million.

Carl must've gotten it out of here.

Yes, but how? I mean, you yourself said that's a lot of money.

It's too much to put in a suitcase and walk out the door.

Buck didn't send his Cadillac to the ranch.

He shipped it out to a classic car show in California the day of the murder.

From this garage.

Do you remember the name of the company that he used for shipping his car through?

It's gotta be the leading one in the area, which would narrow it down.

I'm gonna try Trans-Highway Shipping.

The manager there beats me at poker every other Thursday.

Phil? Tom Jarrow. How you doin'?

Listen, I'm actually calling on official police business.

Look, you didn't happen to pick up a classic Cadillac day before yesterday

for shipment to some town in California?

Pasadena?

Yeah, that's it. What?

What time?

Thanks, Phil.

Shipping order was changed...

To a foreign destination.

Rio de Janeiro.

Sally, can I talk to you a minute?

Oh, Tom, I'm really not in the mood to answer a lot of questions.

No, I know. I didn't come here as a cop.

I just haven't had a chance to tell you that I'm really sorry about your dad.

He was a good man and I think I know how you must feel.

I just didn't want to believe that it was true, even after we found Marika.

It just seems like all these years I've been tryin' to get away from him.

No, you just wanted to stand on your own two feet, that's all.

But how must he have felt?

Oh, he understood.

Well, since you moved into New York, I've probably seen your father

as many times as you have and...

Well, I asked him about you recently, and he just was so proud.

Proud of what you were doing in the book business, all on your own.

He said that?

He sure did. Said that you reminded him of somebody.

Reminded him of himself when he started out before the first big gusher hit.

Sally...

He was good to me, too.

I'm gonna miss him. You gonna be okay here?

Yeah, you go on. I'm sure you've got a lot to do.

Yep.

Tom...

Thank you.

He loved the girls. In high school he had them fighting over him.

But he never loved any woman the way he loved your mother. That was purely sacred.

Hello. Wilson residence. Just a moment.

It's for you.

Yeah, this is Phil at Trans-Highway Shipping.

Sorry to disturb you.

You know that Cadillac you're shipping to Rio?

Well, I just got a call from a federal inspector.

He says he's gotta make a thorough examination of the car

before it's loaded on the ship.

Hey, it's a new regulation. What can I tell you?

Treasury's just gotta be sure it's a real classic,

and not a cheap lookalike put together for a quick sale down in Latin America.

Anyway. Well, I don't expect a problem with a genuine article like this, do you?

Is it still there, George?

Somebody named Phil just called at the house

and said there was going to be some kind of inspection.

Pretty convincing, wasn't he?

Well, yeah. This isn't mine. It's Buck's. He stole it.

But this is your signature on the shipping instructions,

changing the destination of the car from Pasadena to Rio.

Look, I didn't kill Marika Valenti.

Buck did.

She was taking him for everything he had. She was blackmailing him.

I wasn't sure she was a blackmailer until I spoke to Scotland Yard.

How did you find out?

It was obvious.

Yes, of course. It was meant to be obvious to you.

That was the object of the bogus reading,

to contact the killer and make him aware

that she knew what he'd done.

You knew what she meant by "old well" and you waited for her by the cistern.

One hundred thousand dollars a month, Mr. Foster,

and your secret will die with me.

A hundred thousand. Take it or leave it.

Marika!

She made her proposal and your reply was a bullet through her heart.

Then you temporarily got rid of her body as you'd gotten rid of Buck's.

You think you know everything, don't you?

Yeah, I'd been stealing money for years.

Winnowing it from every unit in the corporate structure.

But old Buck found out about it right before B.J. did.

I ran into him the other night at the steakhouse, j just as he was leaving.

He pulled me aside and said that he was going to

hand me over to the investigation committee,

to try to save the company and prevent his employees from losing their jobs.

When I got home that night and found out that Buck was there, something snapped.

I went to his room. I shot him.

I had no idea that woman was hiding in the bathroom, listening to the whole thing.

But you had a good-paying job, you lived in a mansion

and you were married to a billionaire's sister.

Why did you need to steal the money?

I needed to get away.

From the job, from that house.

Most of all, from my wife.

I'm so sick of being Buck Wilson's brother-in-law!

I wanted to fly to Rio and start a new life.

In my own mansion.

You wanted to be Buck Wilson.

Yes. That's exactly what I wanted.

Right. And if I'm not mistaken,

this'd be the murder weapon.

Sally!

It's not going to be the same around here.

I know.

Hi. Tom.

You almost missed us.

Well, actually, it's you I wanted to see.

Me?

Yeah, I wanted to let you know I was serious about taking that course of yours.

I just put in for a leave of absence.

Well, you realize, you'll have to live in the city for a while.

Yeah. Well, then, I guess I'll just have to make the best of it.

Won't I?

Won't I?

I hope you'll keep one or two evenings free for studying.