Original subtitles

Every Friday morning at 11:00

Nero Wolfe signs the salary checks

for Fritz and Theodore and me.

He never likes spending money

but that particular day

he was more sour than usual.

What's the matter, you got bugs in the orchids?

No, but I saw your bag in the hall

and I note your finery.

Straining as you are to be gone.

It is gracious of you to wait for this pittance.

This meager return for your excessive labors.

Especially since the bank balance

is the lowest its been in two years.

That deserves an answer. Here it is.

As for finery...

I'm headed to the country for the weekend.

And I'm dressed accordingly.

Lovely.

As for straining... I'm not.

As for pittance...

Yes, you're right.

As for bank balance... well, you have a point.

I'm willing to help.

After all, it's just a pittance anyway, so...

Archie!

Yes?

Phooey!

Nuts!

By Monday morning, the air might possibly have cleared

if it hadn't been for the torn up check.

We both knew the stub would have to be voided and a new check drawn

but he wasn't going to tell me to do it without being asked

and I wasn't going to do it without being told.

A man has his pride.

And with that between us

the stiffness Monday morning lasted through lunch and beyond

into the afternoon, and for all I cared

it could have lasted into the next decade.

Yes, may I help you?

You're Archie Goodwin?

Yes.

Can you bring my suitcase in, please?

I want to see Nero Wolfe

but of course he's always up in the plant room

from 4:00 till 6:00.

That's why I chose this time to come.

I want to see you first.

Well, I'm flattered, but...

The door to the front room.

The door to the dining room down there on the right.

The office on the left.

Yes.

Hall's wider than I expected.

Shall we go into the office?

I had to go away.

I had to go somewhere and stay there till October 26.

Someplace where no one would know

and no one could possibly find me.

I thought about it

and figured the best place was Nero Wolfe's house.

A hotel or a rooming house wouldn't do

because they need to know names.

Would $50 a day be enough?

You won't tell us your name?

No.

Have you committed a crime

or have you been an accessory to one?

Are a fugitive running from the law?

No.

Well, prove it.

That's silly.

I don't have to prove it.

You're going to stick to this

"no names, no identify"?

I certainly intend to.

Well, you better leave Mr. Wolfe to me.

I'll bring you up to your room, I'll leave you there.

When he comes down, I'll tackle him.

It might help if he saw some cash.

Seven days, $50 a day.

$350.

With the understanding, of course

that it's not a deal until Mr. Wolfe accepts it.

Of course.

And if he accepts, I'm willing to pay more.

It's bigger than I thought.

I appreciate this, Mr. Goodwin.

Ah, certainly.

You know, I'm going to have to watch you unpack.

Watch me? Why?

For the kick.

You know, there's probably a thousand or more people

in the metropolitan area

who think Nero Wolfe has lived long enough.

And one or more of them may have decided

to put a copperhead or a rattler in your hatbox.

Nothing dangerous so far.

I guess that'll do.

I haven't inspected you handbag or your person.

So, uh, I hope you don't mind...

I locked the door.

Did you put that money there, Fritz?

No, sir, I did.

Indeed.

Thank you, Fritz.

Well, flummery?

No, sir.

Then what?

Well...

So, I explained.

She seemed sweet and unspoiled

and has fine legs

and if we like her and get used to her

one of us might want to marry her.

Phooey, Archie.

However, the immediate point is this...

since I am responsible for that handy little contribution of cash

you may feel like signing a replacement check

for the one that I tore up on Friday.

Archie, that was an admirable performance.

Well, thank you.

Friday, I spoke hastily

and you acted hastily

and the fait accompli

of that torn check had us at an impasse.

By contriving one of your fantastically puerile inventions

you have made the problem itself absurd

and so disposed of it.

Admirable. Very satisfactory.

I...

I didn't know we had 50s in the emergency cash reserve.

You'd better get rid of that. Put that back.

I don't like money lying around.

No, see, that didn't come from the safe.

No, that came from the visitor...

as described, up on the south room.

I didn't invent anything

puerile or not.

Nothing was invented, you see?

Now shall I bring her down and you can decide.

Bah.

Bah?

What are you...?

Would you like another beer?

Fritz, Fritz...

Yes, a little point of information.

Our lady visitor that's upstairs in the south room

is she old, haggard

crippled, deformed, ugly?

No, Archie.

She's quite the opposite.

No, no.

She precisely the opposite.

Thank you, Fritz.

Is it true?

Have you actually installed a woman

in a room of my house?

Now, not installed, exactly.

You see, that implies a personal kind of...

Where did you get her?!

I didn't get her as I told you.

She came.

I invented nothing.

I am just reporting.

You take that money

bring it up to her

and give it back to her right now!

Dinner is in 20 minutes.

I want her out of the house in ten minutes!

Well, you see, I mean normally I would... do... that.

But, you see, acting as your agent

I practically promised her that you would see her.

Now, if she sees you

she'll probably drop this mystery act

and she'll divulge her name.

And the resulting fee

will take care of my salary checks for a year.

Okay, well

she'll just have to get baccala someplace else.

I shouldn't have mentioned it.

Baccala?

Yeah, I happened to mention to her

we're having baccala for dinner and she said, "What is that?"

And I told her, and she said

"Salt Cod isn't fit to eat

no matter how you cook it. "

So... all right, all right.

You know what? Skip it.

Since we have to return that money to her anyway

I've contributed nothing to the bank account.

And the situation regarding my salary check

snapped back to this morning

and it leaves me no alternative...

Archie, don't tear that check!

Yes, may I help you?

My name is Perry Helmar.

I'm an attorney.

I want to see Nero Wolfe

about a matter of utmost urgency.

Now ordinarily, when a stranger calls

I let the caller wait while I go check with Wolfe.

But I wanted to give Wolfe another tack to sit on

and postpone a showdown over our guest upstairs.

Sit right here, please.

Mr. Wolfe, I am a senior partner

at a law firm of highest repute.

A young woman for whom I am responsible

has just disappeared

and she must be found as quickly as possible.

So I will pay you $5,000

plus necessary expenses if you will find her

and have her communicate with me by October 25th

which is, what, six days from now.

However, I will pay double that

if you produce her in New York alive and well

by the morning of October 26.

Tell me about her, briefly.

You're an attorney.

You should know what I need to decide whether to take a job.

Well, sir, why would you decide to refuse it?

I don't know.

Very well.

I'm am Priscilla Eades legal guardian.

I am also the trustee of her property

according to the will of her father.

So, this evening I paid a call to her

to discuss some business; however she was not there.

Her maid became alarmed because she was expecting

her mistress to come home for an early dinner...

I don't need that much.

You don't?

I see.

Well, I found on her writing desk

an envelope addressed to me.

Inside was a handwritten note.

It reads, "Dear Perry, I hope you won't be too mad at me

"for standing you up.

"I doubt if you will hear from me before October 26

"but you will then all right.

"Please don't try to find me. "

Love, Pris. "

Now, October 26 will be my ward's 25th birthday

when according to the terms of her father's will

the trust will be terminated

and she will take complete control of her property.

90% of Softdown...

a large and successful corporation that makes towels.

There are complications, however, as there usually are.

Such as?

Such as Eric Hagh, Priscilla's former husband

and her one disastrous blunder.

She ran away with him when she was 19

to South America.

She left him after three months, and then she divorced him.

How does that blunder complicate her inheritance?

Well, two weeks ago I received a letter from Eric Hagh

claiming that she signed a document

shortly after they were married

granting him half of her property.

You say her name was Priscilla Eades?

Yes.

She took back her maiden name.

I think I met her.

Got a picture?

Yes...

I have a picture.

I have two pictures.

Now I doubt

that his claim has any legal validity

but morally there may be a question.

It is indubitably a question with my ward.

The letter came from Venezuela.

I fear that she might have gone there

to speak to him and see him.

She's woth looking at.

And I don't just mean the pictures.

Like I said, I think I've met her.

In fact, I'm sure of it... recently.

I just can't remember where or when...

It was the night we had baccala dinner.

What the devil are you gibbering about?

You heard me.

Baccala dinner.

I, uh... will consider your offer

Mr. Helmar.

If I decide to take it

Mr. Goodwin will contact

your office tomorrow morning at 10:00.

Tomorrow morning?

I need an answer now.

What would you think of me

If I, solely based on information

you supplied me here and now

decided to accept a job and work on it?

What would I think?

That, sir, is what I want.

Surely not.

Surely you would be employing a jackass.

If you want the kind of detective who will dive in heedlessly

based on requests from a stranger

Mr. Goodwin will give you some names and addresses.

Very well.

I'll expect a call from you in the morning.

The subtlety of a rhinoceros.

Bring her down here now.

And here we go.

Mr. Wolfe?

You look exactly right.

Just as I thought.

I...

don't shake hands with you

because you might later think it an imposition.

But we'll see.

Sit down, Miss Eades.

What did you call me?

Your name: Eades.

B- but how...?

Why didn't you tell me?

Not that it makes much difference.

I suppose I'll have to pay you more.

But I was willing to do so anyhow.

I told Mr. Goodwin so.

And he told you

he was taking the money you gave him tentatively.

Conditional on my approval.

Your presence here

Miss Eades, is preposterous.

This is neither a rooming house

nor an asylum for hysterical women.

It is my office...

I am not hysterical.

Very well, I withdraw it.

It is not an asylum for unhysterical women.

It is my office and my home.

For you to come here and ask to be allowed to stay a week...

sleeping and eating in the room directly above mine

without revealing your identity

or any of the circumstances impelling you, was grotesque.

I'm sorry.

I'm terribly sorry.

I'll leave at once.

If you please, there has been

a development.

We have had a visitor.

He left here only a few minutes ago.

A man named Perry Helmar.

Perry?

You told him I'm here?

No. He wanted to hire me to find you.

He told me of the communication he received recently

from your former husband now in Venezuela

regarding a document you once signed

giving him half your property.

You did sign such a document?

Yes.

Wasn't that a foolish thing to do?

Yes, but I was a fool then

so naturally I was foolish.

Mr. Helmar offered to pay me $10,000 and expenses

if I were to produce you in New York

alive and well by the morning of October 26.

Produce me?

That was his phrase.

The moment Mr. Goodwin recognized the photographs

and informed me

I was, of course, in an anomalous

position.

A man I've never seen before

comes and offers me $10,000

to find and produce a certain object

by a certain date.

And, by chance...

by chance alone, that object is locked in a room in my house.

Is there any reason

I should not disclose it to him and collect my fee?

I see.

So, that's how it is.

He was lucky he brought the photographs

for Mr. Goodwin to recognize, wasn't it?

I suppose I should congratulate you, Mr. Goodwin.

There was no legal or professional obstacle

to prevent my disclosing you to him

and demanding payment.

But, confound it, there is my self-esteem.

Also, there is Mr. Goodwin.

I have rebuked him for installing you

and told him to get rid of you.

And if I now collect ransom for you

he will be impossible to live with or to work with.

You got that right.

But if my self-esteem

will not let me profit by your presence here

neither will my self-interest permit me to suffer loss by it.

So I have two alternative suggestions to offer.

The first is simple.

You told Mr. Goodwin, in effect

there was no limit

to the amount you would pay to stay here.

I now say, $10,000.

This is blackmail.

You're saying if I don't pay you $10,000

you'll tell Perry Helmar I'm here and you'll get it from him.

I'm saying no such thing.

I said I have an alternate suggestion

if you don't like the first one.

You can be out of here in five minutes, with your luggage

and there will be no surveillance.

We will forget you exist until 10:00 tomorrow morning

at which point I shall phone Mr. Helmar

take his job on the terms he proposed

and start after you.

I'm not paying you any $10,000.

It's ridiculous.

As you please.

You have no time to lose

if you expect to make it a job for me.

Archie, will you bring her luggage down, please?

I can manage. Thanks.

Uh, good morning.

Uh, Fritz said

you wanted to see me.

Yes. Good morning.

What time is it?

8:32.

Oh, please get Mr. Helmar at his office 10:00 sharp

and put him through to me upstairs.

Meanwhile, it won't hurt

to ring Miss Eades' apartment to see if she's there...

if you haven't done so already.

Uh, no, sir.

Then try it.

If she's not at home, we must be prepared to waste no time.

Get Fred, Saul, Ory.

Have them be here by 11:00.

No, sir. I don't refuse to play

but I will not be a part of any fudging.

Now, you said we would forget about her existence

until 10:00 this morning.

I have done so.

But I don't know who or what you're talking about.

Now, should I come back upstairs at 10:00

and see if you have any further instructions?

No.

Very well.

I mean, yes!

Inspector.

Goodwin.

Mr. Wolfe won't be available for two hours

but you know that as well as anybody.

Will I do?

Yeah, you will...

for a start.

What?

Last night a woman was murdered

and your fingerprints were found on her luggage.

How did they get there?

That's no way to do it, Inspector.

My fingerprints could be found on women's luggage

from Maine to California.

You want to give me a name

address, description of luggage?

Priscilla Eades.

Oh...

I see.

618 East 74th Street.

A suitcase and a hat box.

Both crocodile.

She was, uh, murdered?

Yes.

And your prints were fresh.

How come?

Well?

Uh, yes, Mr. Wolfe.

Inspector Cramer here was just informing me

that a woman named Priscilla Eades was murdered

and that my fingerprints are all over her luggage.

He wants to know why and whether or not I knew her.

Did I know her?

Cramer expressed appreciation for the information I provided

taking dozens of pages of notes.

After a while, he even started calling me Archie

which had happened before, but not often.

I guess it's all on the level.

You too busy to answer a question

from a citizen in good standing?

Well, I have to be at the D.A.'s office at 10:30.

Why did you want to make it so tight

about the time Helmar left here?

It was about an hour later

that Miss Eades left.

Well, around 1:00 a Margaret Fomos

was found in a vestibule on East 29th Street.

Strangled with a cord... not very thick.

Her purse stolen.

Back when she was still breathing

she was a maid for Priscilla Eades.

Around 4:00 they found the bag

in a nearby trash can.

And one of the investigating officers

who was working with Lieutenant Rowcliff

started to wonder why she was strangled over a bag.

Going over the contents of Fomos's bag with her husband

one missing item stuck out...

the keys to Priscilla Eades' apartment

where she worked.

Hmm, that officer's going to have your job some day

you know that.

Well, he's welcome to it now.

Priscilla Eades was found on the floor of her apartment.

She'd been hit in the head with fireplace poker

and strangled with a cord... not very thick.

The killer was waiting for her when she got home.

Well...

thank you for answering the question.

Well, it's the least I could do

considering how cooperative you've been, Archie.

I believe you, for a change.

Especially since Wolfe doesn't have a client.

And none in sight.

He'll be in a hell of a humor.

And I don't envy you.

I suppose Mr. Helmar will soon know

if he doesn't already, of our stratagem.

And I doubt it's worth the trouble to communicate with him.

He wanted his ward alive, and...

well, that's out of the question.

But he's the only contact we have

and no matter how sore he is, we should start with him.

Start? Start what? With whom?

We have no client.

She was here. She wanted to stay.

We kicked her out. She got killed.

I should think that would have some bearing on your self-esteem

as you were discussing last night.

Nonsense.

Okay, I guess I knew how it would be.

I realize I have, uh, my personal problem.

I put her back out on the street.

I put her in the taxi that sent her home

and now... she got it.

I- I-I will not

undertake a major and expensive operation

with no chance of income

merely because you have been piqued by circumstance.

I will do my best to make people know

that I'm not working for you.

Some won't buy it; can't help that.

If you decide you'd rather have me quit, well, okay.

But I don't have time to discuss it

if I'm going to catch this guy before lunch.

I had a pretty good idea where to start.

Priscilla Eades stood to inherit 90% of Softdown, Incorporated

if she made it to her 25th birthday.

She missed by six days.

I called my friend Lon Cohen at the Gazette

and learned that now her 90% was going to be divided

between a handful of Softdown officers.

Goodwin, Detective.

I'm here investigating the murder of Priscilla Eades.

I want to ask you a few questions.

We'll start with you at the end of the table there.

What's your full name?

I'm Jay Luther Brooker.

Now, what does that "J" stand for?

That's J-A-Y, Jay. I'm president.

When did you first learn of Miss Eades' death?

This morning on the radio.

Uh-huh. Can you explain your whereabouts?

Yes.

I was in bed.

I have a suite at the Prince Henry Hotel.

Well, you understand the situation

Mr. Brooker.

You see, a lot of people stand to profit

from Miss Eades' death, right?

How much are you going to inherit from the company?

Well, under the terms

of the will of the late Nathan Eades... the, uh, son

of the founder of the business...

19,362 shares of the common stock come to me.

The same amount goes to four other people...

Miss Duday

Mr. Quest, Mr. Pitkin

and, uh, Mr. Helmar.

Uh, smaller amounts go to others.

Right, right, well, I'll get those names

but I want to... start here first.

What's your name? Bow tie?

Well, sir... I am Bernard Quest.

I've been with this business 62 years

and Vice President for 29.

Oh. You?

Viola Duday.

I was Mr. Eades' secretary.

During his last illness, the last 14 months of his life

I ran the business.

My present title is assistant secretary of the Corporation.

Mm-hmm. And you?

Oliver Pitkin, Secretary and Treasurer of the corporation.

Um, Daphne O'Neil.

But I don't think I belong

in your little black book, Mr. Detective.

You see, I wasn't in Mr. Eades' will.

I was just a good little girl when he died.

Um, I've only worked at Softdown

for four years now.

Now I'm the Softdown stylist.

Perhaps you should know

that if Miss Eades had lived until next Monday

Miss O'Neil would be looking for another job.

Miss Eades did not appreciate Miss...

Is-is this necessary, Vi?

I think so.

No one's going to be able to hide anything

so why not shorten the agony?

They'll dig up everything.

That for ten years before Nate Eades died

you tried to get him to give you

a third of the business... and failed.

That Ollie here

beneath his mask of modest efficiency

is fiercely antifeminist

and hates to see a woman run anything!

My dear Viola...

That my appetite

and ambition for power are so strong

that you three men and Perry Helmar

much as you fear and distrust each other

fear and distrust me more!

And you knew that when Priscila was in control

I would have had top authority!

They'll learn that this... Daphne O'Neil...

my God, what a name for her... Daphne...

It means "laurel tree. "

That she was playing Perry Helmar and Jay Brooker

against each other

and with October 26 approaching, she was getting desperate

and so were they.

That Jay...

Aah!

You... you asked for it, Vi

and if you're counting on Ollie and me being with you

as I think you are, you're making a big mistake.

Miss Duday is absolutely right...

it's all going to come out... the good and the bad...

and the quicker, the better.

It wouldn't be a bad thing, Mr. Brooker

if you followed Miss Duday's example.

Why don't you tell me what this conference was about today.

Uh, we were saying that we would have to accept the fact

that the nature of Miss Eades' murder

created a very unpleasant situation for all of us.

We agreed that it was unthinkable

that any of us could possibly

have been involved in her murder...

Yes, like any of you

had any motives.

We discussed the letter that recently arrived

from Eric Hagh, Miss Eades' former husband.

Do you know about that?

Yes.

The letter was sent from Venezuela

but he could easily have come to New York by ship or plane

or... heck, he didn't even need to come...

could have hired someone to kill her.

Why?

We don't know why.

We were only trying to find

some plausible explanation for her murder.

But how do you figure Eric Hagh was the killer?

I mean, if he had his document, all he had to do was wait a week

for Priscilla Eades to suddenly get a lot more property

which he could come and claim half of.

One possibility

would be that she had denied she had signed the document

or that he thought she was going to

and he was afraid he would get nothing at all.

No. No, no, 'cause she already stated that she had signed it.

Had she? To whom?

Uh... look, I'm asking the questions here, okay?

Now...

Ho, well, for God's sake.

You're under arrest.

Oh, yeah? You got that in writing?

I don't need writing.

I'm taking you.

I'm Lieutenant Rowcliff, Manhattan Homicide.

Outside, this man said he was a policeman, didn't he?

Isn't he?

No. Did he say he was a policeman?

We're a pack of fools! He's a reporter!

Eh, he's no reporter.

His name is Archie Goodwin...

and he's the confidential as-s-sistant of Nero Wolfe...

Private detective.

Oh-ho-ho-ho, I'm taking you.

In the act of impersonating an officer.

Handcuff him and search him, Doyle.

Look, look, downstairs

and up here, I identified myself by name

and I said the word "detective. "

I showed my license

which no one bothered to examine.

I never said I was a policeman.

I asked some questions, which these people answered.

Now, you can apologize now and get out.

You asked questions about what?

About the death of Priscilla Eades.

Oh. You lied to Cramer when you told him

that Wolfe had no c... client.

No, I never libout whether or not he had ac-clientor not.

He didn't have one then;

he doesn't have one now.

Then what are you doing here?

I'm here for personal reasons. Strictly on my own.

Mr. Wolfe has nothing to do with this.

So, Wolfe has a c... client

and a client... that he doesn't care to acknowledge.

and try to cover for him by telling another outrageous lie?

You know, I've taken great pleasure

in lying to you in the past

and sure lieto you again...

Mr. Wolfe... That's enough.

That's more than enough.

Giving false information;

withholding evidence; material witness;

obstructing justice...

and impersonating an officer.

T... T...

Take him, Doyle!

Hey, be careful... I'm ticklish.

There's one other thing I wanted to know.

I spent four hours being asked the same question

by every member of the NYPD

and when they'd run out of interrogators

they handed me over to the D.A.'s office

and then stuck me in the hall to wait.

I figured they at least owed me a few phone calls

preferably in a quiet office with a door that closed.

...based on the idiotic assumption

that Mr. Goodwin and I

are old acquaintances.

So what happens today?

Mr. Rowcliff took advantage

of the absence of Mr. Goodwin

whom he fears

and petulantly envies

and entered my house by force.

That's a lie. I rang.

Shut up!

He was ass enough to think

that I would speak with him.

Naturally, I ordered him out

and when I persisted in my refusal

I turned to leave and he put a hand on me.

He then took me into custody, under warrant

conducted me out of my home

and in a rickety old police car

with a headstrong and paroxysmal driver

brought me to this building.

I had assumed, charitably, that it was some

major misapprehension

that had driven Mr. Rowcliff to this frenzied zeal

but I learned fro you, Mr. Bowen

that it was merely a fit of nincompoopery.

That you- you think that I have a client.

That I know something that you don't know and would like to

and that you can bully it out of me.

Well, you can't!

I haven't got it!

But you are correct

in assuming that I have a client... I do.

I knew it.

As you may know

Mr. Goodwin is not indifferent

to those attributes of young women

which constitute the chief reliance of our race

in our gallant struggle against

the menace of the insects.

He is also especially vulnerable to young women

who have a knack

for stimulating his love of chivalry

and adventure.

Priscilla Eades was such a woman.

Within hours of her eviction

by him, at my behest

she was brutally murdered.

He then bounded out of my house like a man obsessed

after telling me he was going, single-handed

after the murderer.

It was... pathetic

but also

thoroughly admirable.

And your callous and churlish treatment of him

leaves me with no alternative.

I am at his service.

You mean Archie Goodwin is your client?

All that rigmarole

was leading up to that?

I'm hungry.

I had a soda fountain lunch.

I could eat a porcupine with quills on it.

Let's go home.

A paradise for puerility.

I'm a client, now, Fritz.

And he's a buffoon.

No, sir, I sit here not as a gag

but to avoid misunderstanding.

As a client, the closer to you, the better.

As an employee

nothing doing until my personal problem is resolved.

Now, you tell me how much

you want for a retainer and I'll write a check.

Otherwise I will bound out of this house like a man obsessed.

Confound it!

I'm helpless. I'm committed.

Yes, sir, you are.

Now, what about a retainer?

No!

You care to hear how I spent my day?

Care to, no.

But how the devil can I escape it?

Report, I mean...

Tell me.

Well, we're in a pickle.

You see...

How many of these five people can you have

in this office by 11:00 tomorrow morning?

As it stands now, without any bait?

Yes.

I wouldn't bet on one.

I'm ready to try.

I might get something from Lon Cohen to use as bait

if I bought him a thick enough steak.

Well, do so.

Invite him to dine with us.

Tonight?

Yes.

I'm, uh, in a pickle, Mr. Cohen.

I have committed to investigate a murder

but I have no entre, I need a toehold.

Who killed Priscilla Eades?

I intended to ask you.

I don't know.

You can shed no light on this subject?

Uh, well

maybe I can, and, uh, maybe I can't.

Am I in your debt

or are you in my debt, Mr. Cohen?

All right, that's the point, isn't it?

Well, I'm happy to say that we're square.

I'll call it square if you'll call it square.

You'll call it square?

Yeah.

Means you're in my debt.

What do you know?

Oh, wait a minute.

I'm not in your debt if it's square.

If it's square, then we're starting from scratch, okay?

If it's square I give you something

I get something back; that's square.

If it's relevant.

Yeah, and I get an exclusive.

I determine its relevance.

Fine, fine.

Okay, um... Priscilla Eades.

Priscilla Eades completely and routinely

changed her life every two years.

She'd go from being a college student

to being a New Orleans party girl

to being a South American housewife

to being a divorced Salvation Army tambourine shaker

until finally she became a corporate executive.

How's that for relevance?

What?

Okay.

How about this, then?

This may help.

Um, an informal poll

of all the reporters working on this case

favors Oliver Pitkin as the killer.

And that's just the male reporters.

The females seem to like, uh, Viola Duday.

And Franklin, at The Times

he's betting on Sarah Jaffe.

That's just because, you know, he likes impossible odds.

Sarah Jaffe? Is that a name that you've come across?

No. No, no reason why you should

unless you like impossible odds, too.

Sarah Jaffe, actually, was probably the closest person

to Priscilla Eades.

Was she mentioned in the will?

No, no, no, she already got

ten percent of the company from her father.

Single?

Widow.

Her husband was killed in Korea last year.

And sh...

Archie?

Lon was probably mistaking Wolfe's expression

for indigestion, but I knew better.

Something Lon said had got Wolfe thinking

which meant I could expect a very busy moring.

My conception of a widow was formed in my early boyhood

from a character called Widow Rowley.

I have known others since

but the conception had never been entirely obliterated

so there's always an element of shock

when I meet a woman who has been labeled a widow

and I find she has some teeth can walk without a cane

and doesn't constantly mutter to herself.

Good morning.

Please, come in.

May I take your hat and coat?

Uh, yes, thanks.

Uh, thank you for seeing me on such short notice.

Please come in, sit down.

I was in bed when you phoned.

I assume you've had breakfast, but how about some coffee?

Uh, thank you, yes.

No, not there!

That's my husband's place.

You could sit there.

Here?

There.

Olga! Cup of coffee, please.

Coming, ma'am.

It's all right.

I'm a nut, that's all.

You know my husband's dead?

So I understand, yes.

He was in the Reserve.

A major.

Coffee?

When he went away one day in March a year ago

he left his hat and in the hall.

I didn't put them away.

When I got word that he had been killed

three months later

they were still there.

That was a year ago, and there they are.

I'm simply sick to death of looking at them, but...

there they are.

That's, uh...

that was your husband's place at breakfast?

Mm. I'm sick of looking at that, too.

Weren't you surprised when I told you on the phone

"All right, come up"?

Yeah, a little.

Of course you were.

A while back, I decided to quit being a nut

and I decided how I would do it.

I would have a man sit here with me

at breakfast, in Dick's place

and I would have him take hat and coat

out of that hall, and did you hear me?

"No, not there... That's my husband's place. "

I simply lost my nerve.

Do you suppose I really am a nut?

Toast, please.

I'd like some toast.

Oh, excuse me, you now

but if you want this to stick

I should eat something, right?

Yeah.

Right.

No marmalade, jelly?

You know, if you hadn't been so rude about the bread

I would soon have been crying.

Yeah, I thought so.

Will you take that coat and hat away with you?

Certainly.

Now, I understand...

that you and Priscilla Eades...

were best friends.

When was the last time you saw her?

I don't think I want to talk about it.

Okay.

That's, that's fine.

That's all right.

You owe me three dollars.

What?

Sure. Taxi fare here

to take your husband's place at breakfast.

That's the only reason you let me in.

There'll be a little more

'cause I have to stop at the Salvation Army

to get rid of the hat and coat.

That's three bucks.

I prefer cash.

Have I ever met you before?

Well, not that I remember

and I think I'd remember.

Why?

You seem to know exactly the right things to say.

Pris and I have been friends since we was four.

We got to be like sisters.

We shared a place in the Village after college

and then, all of a sudden, she was off.

Next thing I knew, here came a letter

saying she had found a prince, married him

and they were off for Peru.

I remember she enclosed a picture of him.

Since that time, have you heard from her?

About a month ago.

She phoned.

Back in New York.

Back to her maiden name.

She decided she wanted to take over her father's business

and wanted my help.

your help or your shares?

Both.

She said she wanted to elect

a new board of directors...

all women, including me...

and we would elect Viola Duday

president of the corporation.

Is that right... "president of the corporation"?

Sounds right, sure.

Miss Jaffe, I have to tell you something.

I'm here under slightly false pretenses, okay?

I said Mr. Wolfe and I need some information

and that's true.

We also need some help.

You realize that with Priscilla gone

that leaves five people who are basically in control

of the remaining Softdown stock.

Yes. Certainly.

Well, we want you to bring an action against them.

We want you to ask a court

to get an injunction

restraining them from exercising

any of the rights of ownership of that stock

until it's determined whether one or more of them

might have acquired that stock through commission of a crime.

Why should I do that?

Well, because you have a legitimate interest

in the proper handing of the firm's affairs,

see, and you were... well, you were also

Priscia's oldest friend.

I don't know, I thought maybe...

Who do you think killed her?

I don't know.

I wish you...

Don't do this.

Miss Jaffe, you realize

that we can't just march in like the cops.

We have to come up with something

something to get to these people,

you know and this will get to them

and Priscilla, she would be asking the same thing.

I mean, if she could talk.

Well, I won't do it.

I won't do that.

Please show yourself out.

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