All language subtitles for MSW s07e07 The Return of Preston Giles.eng

I'm bringing back
the man who started the company.

Preston Giles?
He's in jail for murder.

Tonight on "Murder She Wrote"...

We start with J.B. Fletcher.

She's the one
who put me behind bars.

- Preston?
- Forgive me for surprising you.

No! Get away from me!

- You have an allergy?
- I'm allergic to you.

Breakfast tomorrow?

I think it's best if we didn't.

Apparently, crime does pay.

Get out of my sight!

Al, you're killing me.

All we're talking is
another 5000 copies.

End of the month!
You have my word.

Al, let me worry about
the paper suppliers.

You stick to the printing
and the binding. Okay?

Thanks, buddy.

You're a prince.

Bastard.

You were suppose
to come home two days ago.

If you returned my calls,
you'd know why I didn't.

I had my hands full.

And?

Kendall's nervous.
I don't blame him.

If I were refinancing you
and that broken down operation,

to the tune of 20 million dollars,

I'd want some assurance it
wasn't going into...

Chapter 11
before the ink dried.

- I told you.
- Spare me, Ross, it's all smoke.

The blockbuster titles,
the name writers coming back...

- Linnette,
- Please,

I should have gone with my instincts
and not mixed business with family.

But no. Instead,
I had to put my job on the line.

Linnette...

To keep you from sinking into
the East River.

Dammit, Ross. There's more
to taking over a company than...

Save the sermon!

Your boss and I go back
a few semesters.

He wouldn't have touched this deal
if he thought it'd embarrass him,

or the bank,
or his neurotic little wife.

as the A1, class act,
in the best-seller business.

How? With mirrors?

You might say that.

A mirror to the past.

I'm bringing back
the man who started the company.

Preston Giles?

- He's in jail, for murder.
- Not for long.

I've spent a month pulling
strings and making calls.

He gets out on parole on Tuesday.

7x07 "THE RETURN OF PRESTON GILES"
Subtitles subXpacio

I understand.

Believe me, I understand.

He's coming out, I have to go.

Trust me, this is going to work.

A couple weeks from now we’ll have
a big monkey off our backs...

thanks to Mr. Preston Giles.

Yeah, call you later.

Mr. Giles.

Ross McKay.

- I've been looking forward to this.
- Mr. McKay.

How about we begin
by dropping the "misters"?

- Welcome aboard, Preston.
- Thank you, Ross.

I understand. You were totally
upfront with me in your letters.

All I ask is that
you keep an open mind.

Because I'll prove that
you're wrong about me.

What the hell?

Worst case scenario...

it has to be better than
8 or 10 years in there.

Right?

Forgive me. I guess this'll
take some getting used to.

Okay. You don't like my style.

Maybe publishing isn't what it
used to be. Nobody's perfect.

On the other hand,
I wasn't jailed for murder.

I'm sorry, that was uncalled for.

If I hadn't pulled off my takeover...

then some fifth-rate
greenmail operator...

who never read
a book in his life would have.

Sutton Place Publishing would be
history and you'd still be inside.

So, are we still on?

Yes, we're on.

End of discussion.

You know, Preston...

whether you believe me or not,
I am deadly serious about this.

Returning Sutton Publishing
to the class act you ran.

Something you can be proud of.

I'm convinced that together,
we can pull it off.

Okay,

as we discussed...

we need to get some
quality product in the pipeline.

Which means we have to restore
our list of first class writers.

We start with J.B. Fletcher.

Jessica?

She's the lynchpin.

Look, during our watch,

Sutton Place Publishing was known
for its quality mysteries.

If you nail her,
I know a dozen top writers...

who'll come flocking back.

- I don't know, Ross.
- What's to know?

She's the one
who put me behind bars.

So what?

You launched the woman's career...

she's your discovery,
she owes you and she knows it.

About this weekend,

I'll have to go out to Long Island.

I've got to meet with some
investors from California.

Wonderful.

Be sure and give Kendall my regards.

Mr. McKay, I'm sorry.

One of our paper
suppliers is on line four.

They're refusing delivery
unless they get a check.

Tell them to hold.

Linnette,
I'm getting tired of your excuses.

Ross, it's business.

Stop behaving like
a jealous school-boy.

Linnette, I need to talk
to you about the Felson merger.

Of course, Mr. Stafford.

Darling,
I've got a meeting in five minutes.

Besides, we've got the whole
weekend to look forward to.

That's off, I'm afraid.

Millie offered
my services as toast-master...

for the hunt-club ball, forgot to
tell me about it until this morning.

My husband needs my help
preparing for next week's audit.

I hope that all
the help you're giving him.

No more
than you're giving your wife.

Mr. Giles.

Mr. Whitcomb just called.
He said he's running late.

I thought I asked that meeting
to be moved back to 4 o'clock.

And shift Caruthers to Monday.

Yes, you did.

And I did write it down somewhere.

Gloria.

You're having a problem, aren't you?

- Working with me?
- Problem?

No, no, Mr. Giles.

- I know it's silly of me.
- Forgive me...

I should have been more sensitive
to the situation.

If you prefer to leave,
I'd certainly understand.

No, I'd much rather stay.

But you have to understand,
Mr. Giles...

I know it's irrational,

but everything frightens me.

- Crossing the street, the subway...
- Doesn't sound irrational to me.

I'm your basic frightened person.

But I'm working on it. I read
books and take class on the subject.

I try and psyche myself.

So, if you'll just be patient with me.

I see that Ross has chosen
to ignore my advice.

Apparently, crime does pay.

It seems to have paid for you, Martin.

As predictable as ever, Preston.

May I remind you your accusation
against me were never proven.

Because they were
totally without merit.

Believe me,

if I hadn't gotten myself in trouble,
I not only would have proven,

I'd have seen to it that you
are as locked up as you deserved.

What did you want to see me about?

I supposed it's to be expected
that your years of incarceration...

would have nurtured your paranoia.

Believe it or not, I am not
the cause of all your problems.

I know that.
I had no one but myself to blame...

for the mess I made of my life
and this company.

- You got that right.
- But its state of its finances...

when I went to prison,
can only be laid at your feet, Martin.

You made it vulnerable to a predator
like Ross McKay in the first place.

Now get out of my sight...

before I say or do something
I'll be sorry for.

I said get out! Now!

A piece of advice, Preston.

Don't be misled by your title.

I'm senior VP in control now. And
a member of the board of directors.

Keep a lid on your opinions
and on your temper as well.

Martin, we need to talk.

Ross, there you are.

I've been trying to touch base
with you since Monday morning.

The advertising copy
for drums in the Amazon,

is tacky and exploitive.

Totally counter to
the image we should be projecting.

I called you, sent memos.

I'm sorry. Your messages must
have fallen between the cracks.

I promise we'll spend a lot of
time together before the weekend.

Almost forgot. The royalty
check for J.B. Fletcher.

"The corpse danced at midnight."

I understand you'll be contacting her.

I'll try, but I'm not at
all certain she'll see me.

Nonsense, Preston.

I'm sure you years in prison did
nothing to lesson your charm.

You know, you could be a very
disruptive influence in my life.

Only my students call me
Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Giles.

And Mr. Giles is that
stuffed shirt and three-piece suit...

I left in New York.

- Good afternoon, Mrs. Fletcher.
- Good afternoon.

Caught your interview on
the morning show...

- your book sounds terrific.
- Well thank you.

It's a lot easier to write it than
to promote it.

Jessica.

Preston?

Hello, Jessica.

Forgive me
for surprising you like this.

Surprising me...?

I'm in shock!

- I thought you were...
- Still in prison?

I'm terribly sorry,
I should have called you.

- Here. Perhaps if we sat down?
- No, I'll be all right.

I just need a moment.

Of course.

The truth is,
I was afraid if I just called you,

you'd refuse to see me.

I wanted very much to see you again,
face to face.

Well, I'm not so sure
that's a good idea.

That seems quite apparent.
Forgive me for intruding.

Preston.

Maybe it would be best if we talked.

One of my regrets, Jess,
one of my many...

is that you didn't
come into my life sooner.

I was so full of anger.

- Much directed towards me, I'm sure.
- For uncovering my guilt.

I suppose so, at first.

Could I have escaped
punishment if you hadn't been there?

Perhaps from the law,
but not from here.

The monstrousness of what I did.

The awful knowledge
that within my anger...

and then fear,
I took the lives of two people...

it hasn't left my thoughts
for a moment.

It never will.

Preston,
why did you come looking for me?

What is it you want?

I almost forgot that
refreshing directness of your.

I was going to ask you
to leave your current publisher...

- and come back to Sutton Place.
- I see.

I'm on parole thanks
to a man named Ross McKay.

I know who he is.

He's not one of my
favorite people either.

But he was my ticket out of prison.

I'd have dealt with the devil
to get out of that place.

Come to think of it, maybe I did.

Preston, earlier you said
you were going to ask me...

to leave my current publisher.

I was.

And on the way here,
I changed my mind.

Ross and his wife Linnette,

are having a small dinner party at
his town-house tomorrow evening.

I was supposed to lure you there.

Ply you with flattery and promises,
just when he would produce a check.

Sounds very cold blooded,
doesn't it?

Very.

Funny.

I tried to convince myself
I could make a difference.

That I could revive
the publishing company's reputation.

It's become clear that
I was deluding myself.

What characterizes Ross,
is his choice of VP/Controller.

The same man I caught embezzling...

six and a half years ago.

Which reminds me.

Here's a royalty check.

"The Corpse Dances at Midnight."

Thank you.

Anyway, I've decided
to bid the job and Ross...

goodbye.

What can I say except thank you?

Will you be all-right?

I'll either find
a job with someone else,

or there are a lot of books I
didn't read in the prison library.

I wish you the best.

If there is something that I can do.

No, please.
Thanks anyway.

This is all moving too fast
for a widow from Maine.

Okay, I'd be lying
if I said I wasn't disappointed.

- But I've been there before,
- Ross, you don't...

Believe me, with the deals we're
offering, they'll all come around.

- Including J.B. Fletcher.
- No, she won't.

Anyway, that's not why I'm here.

I'm quitting, Ross.
Effective immediately.

Don't be a fool.

I appreciate the opportunity,
I really do.

But it's clear I don't belong here.

You figured that our in, what?

10 days?

You're crazy, pal. You know that?

Or have you forgotten your parole is
conditional on continued employment.

I'll take my chances.

You don't think I meant what I
said about turning this place around?

I'm sure you believe it, Ross.

I must be losing my touch.

Look, Preston.

Maybe you're right.

Maybe I was the fool...

for thinking I could ever match the
standards you left for this company.

I was hoping having you around,
your style would rub off on me.

All right.

Do me a favor, will you?
Give it a month.

- Ross, I don't think...
- Excuse me. Mr. McKay's meeting...

- Tell them to wait.
- Yes sir.

One month.

Dorothy, better make that two
hours for Mr. Giles and me on Friday.

By then we'll have it all aired out,
and if you still want, you'll leave.

- Deal?
- Deal.

Wonderful.

By the way,
how's that presentation coming?

For the new investors?

It still need five or six hours work.

I'll have it ready
for you tomorrow afternoon.

No good.

The meeting's been moved up.
I need it first thing in the morning.

I hate to ask.

Not much on my social calendar.
I'll work on it tonight.

Preston, you're a prince.

I'll make it up to you, promise.

Mr. Giles,
Mrs. Fletcher just called...

she'd like to speak
to you as soon as possible.

- Jess?
- Preston.

You didn't have to come over.

I only called you to have you
stop payment on that royalty check.

Are you sure you're all right?

Yes, except for a few minor bruises,
I'm fine.

I feel responsible for this.

I should have seen you to your door.

I doubt that would
have made much difference.

- Have you notified the police?
- Yes, they just left.

I couldn't help them much.
I didn't see his face.

All he took was your handbag?

Yes, it had some cash, credit cards,
the check you gave me.

He'd opened
the drawer where I keep my jewelry.

I must have interrupted him
because he never took it.

I'll tell accounting
to issue you a fresh check.

Thanks. They can send it on
to me in Cabot Cove.

Or I could deliver it at
breakfast tomorrow if you wish?

Preston, I think it's best
if we didn't do that.

As you wish.

Look, I told you
about it this morning, Millie.

I know that.

But I was hoping that maybe
you had changed your mind.

It's been such a long time since
we've been to the opera together.

I made dinner
reservations at Gispari's.

Don't you understand?
I'm up to my eyeballs.

I've been so for weeks!

- I just thought...
- That's your problem,

you don't think.

Well, Kendall,

I'm getting tired of being nothing
more than your personal piggy bank.

We have a marriage.

I won't let that be
destroyed by anything or anyone.

Don't push me.

Sorry,
I guess I'm just a little tired.

Of course you are.

Don't work too late.

Kendall,
what the hell is this all about?

Hello, Linnette.

Millie.

I suppose that you'll
be working late too.

- What did she want?
- My body.

She was plying me with opera
tickets and my favorite pasta.

I told her she had to wait in line.

Well, she's welcome to it right now.

For god sake, I'm only kidding.
What's the problem?

This! What do you mean you can't
hold the Denver group any longer?

You know very well how much
time Ross was going to need...

and besides, who's deal is it anyway?

Who do you think has
been holding this together?

God, you're sexy when you're angry.

I heard about Mrs. Fletcher's
brush with that mugger.

- Lucky she wasn't seriously hurt.
- Yes, she was.

These people seem to have less
and less regard for their victims.

But then,
we're living in such violent times.

I'm rather busy just now, Martin.

No problem. I was about
to call it a night myself.

I wanted you to know we’d
be cutting a fresh check...

for Mrs. Fletcher in the morning.

It'll be mailed to Cabot Cover
per your instructions.

- Good night, Mr. Bergman.
- Good night, Miss Winslow.

Here are those letters, Mr. Giles.

- Will you be needing anything else?
- Only this presentation...

- Could you run off 15 copies?
- Of course.

Gloria?

No, no!
Get away from me!

I swear I didn't kill Martin Bergman.

I want to believe you, Preston.

I know you’d be a fool
to simply take my word.

Can you give me any
reason why I should?

Anything? A detail that
you might have overlooked?

Something you might've been doing,
someone you might have seen?

Anything to put you in you
office when he was stabbed?

No, I've gone over it 100 times.

Preston, you told me
something that doesn't make sense.

You said that Martin Bergman
embezzled funds in your company...

yet you never pressed charges.

My lawyers and accountants
told me I'd never make it stick.

His swindle was so Byzantine...

it'd have taken
a team of auditors years to unravel.

Besides,
he threatened me with blackmail.

He didn't have anything concrete,
but said he'd checked up on my past...

found a lot of unanswered questions.

Well, you know all about that.

Anyway, it was a Mexican standoff.

I had him, all right,

but I didn't want him
digging into my past.

So I simply fired him
and got on with business.

According to newspapers, you
threatened to kill him at a party...

in front of witnesses.

In a fit of temper, yes!

The man stole nearly
three million dollars!

I'd built the company from scratch.

We were profitable and respected.

And then suddenly we found
ourselves in deep financial trouble.

And a short time later,
two men were dead.

Including
a blackmailing private detective.

Finish the thought,

if I could kill two men
for interfering with my live...

why not a third?

Please, don't try to read my mind.

At this point, it just isn't possible.

Look, it was good of you
to come down here, but...

but even if you believed me,
I realize this is not your problem.

What do you mean "how's it going?"

It's going lousy,
that's how it's going.

I got this lady writer running
around making a pain out of herself.

Later.

Excuse me, Sergeant.
I just wanted to thank you...

for arrange for me to see Mr. Giles.
It was very kind of you.

Come here. Close the door.

Sit down.

- Bless you.
- Thanks.

So, what did he tell you?

Actually,
it was a private conversation.

What are you, a priest?
His lawyer?

You've got no
confidential privilege here, lady.

Very well, as soon as you
serve me with a subpoena,

I'll be happy to answer any questions
I can, but for the meantime...

According to your statement,

you had lunch with Giles
yesterday from 12:45 to 2:15.

- You don't want to tell me about that?
- No I don't.

Well, if there's nothing else...

I'll let you know
when I get that subpoena.

Excuse me, Sergeant,

is this a picture of a murder victim?

Yeah, that's him. What is it?

Well, that bandage
on his right hand,

I guess he cut himself, why?

This may be coincidental, but...

I was mugged yesterday
afternoon in my hotel room,

I didn't see the man's face,
but I scratched his right hand...

in the struggle.

10 to one, he's the guy
you scratched, right?

Mrs. Fletcher, are you, by chance...

having to deal with 62
unsolved homicides...

since January 1?

- Well, of course not.
- I am.

And I am not about to welcome any
of your amateurish interference...

for which, if I may say, you already
are legendary around this department.

I had not intention of interfering,
Sergeant, it's simply...

Okay.

Why would a 52-year-old controller
for a major publishing company...

moonlight as a mugger?

I haven't got the faintest idea,
except that Mr. Bergman supposedly...

issued a royalty check
to me that was...

in my handbag, incidentally,
that was the only item stolen.

Supposedly? What, you don't
know if it was in your bag?

I mean I don't know that it was
a check.

I never looked in the envelope.

You say you think Bergman
gave Giles the wrong envelope...

and he wants it back for some
reason so he mugs you for it.

- I really don't know what I think.
- You're talking major understatement!

Besides, why wouldn't
he just ask you for it?

Perhaps he didn't want me
to see the contents.

Man!

You know what I think?

I think you've been in front of your
typewriter too long writing books.

None of this has any connection,
whatsoever, to the murder.

But you pal Giles had
both opportunity and motive.

And we have witnesses who'll
testify he threatened to kill Bergman.

Sergeant, that was seven years ago.

Wrong, Mrs. Fletcher,
that was yesterday afternoon.

His secretary says saw him come
close to assaulting the victim.

He didn't tell you that, huh?
But hey, what can you expect?

The guy should've never been
let out on the street again.

He wouldn't have if it weren't
for a lot of big bucks...

and political clout.

And now, if you'll excuse me,
I've got 62 other cases to solve.

Call me Ross, Mrs. Fletcher.

I can't tell you how delighted
I am that you were able to come.

I hope this means
you've changed your mind...

about returning
to Sutton Place Publishing.

I'm giving it some thought, Ross.

Jessica Fletcher,
I'm Millie Bingham Stafford.

I was thrilled when Ross
told me you'd be here.

- Your books are delicious.
- What a lovely thing to say.

Millie's husband is my
wife's slave-driving boss.

A dyed in the wool work-a-holic.

Last night I went to dinner
alone in some chicken emporium...

and then to the opera alone...

while my husband played monopoly
on the Hong Kong stock market.

Or so he claims.

When he and Linnette get together
it's hard to tell what they're up to.

Isn't that right, Ross?

No, we're both too attractive
to worry about something like that.

Besides, Kendall would rather make
a buck than a pass any day.

Speaking of our missing spouses...

Jessica, this is Linnette, my wife
and favorite investment banker.

Not necessarily in that order.

- Nice to meet you, Mrs. McKay.
- Thank you.

Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher.

Jessica, there you are.

I'm just taking in this view.
That's how Manhattan should be seen.

May I assume you've decided
to accept our offer?

Well, your terms are
certainly very generous.

But my attorneys would've forgive me
if I didn't discuss it with them.

Of course!

I hope you understand if I ask you...

not to talk about any of this
for the next day or two.

A very difficult assignment, Jessica.

Of course, you have my word.

I feel almost responsible for
this sorry business at the office.

If I hadn't worked so hard
to get Preston paroled,

poor Martin would still be alive.

Tell me, Ross. When you hired Mr.
Bergman to come into your company,

were you aware of the problems...

that he
and Preston had had in the past?

Certainly.

But Martin Bergman was
a superb administrator.

He was the right man for the job,
as Preston was for his.

Come on. Isn't conflict
what motivates your stories?

The engine that
drives your characters?

Yes, it is.

It's no different in business.
Only we call it competition.

Keeping the energy high
and the creative juices bubbling.

Unfortunately in this case,
the pot seems to have boiled over.

Yes, perhaps.

Are you saying Giles didn't do it?

I'm not sure.
I have a feeling, an instinct.

Maybe there's more to it.

Jessica, if you'll permit me.

Given his present situation,

Preston is apt to say anything
to get himself off the hook.

Yes, maybe you're right.

The man's already been convicted
of two murders.

I know how painful this must be
for you.

And how badly you'd like it
to have a happy ending,

I hope for your sake
you're not deluding yourself.

The man has already been convicted
of two murders.

But then, hey? What can you expect?

She guy should've never been let
out on the street in the first place.

I know how painful this must be
for you.

I hope for your sake
you're not deluding yourself.

I hoped I was wrong.

I'm sorry, Jess.

I truly am.

Another time and place,
we might have had something.

The subject was blackmail.

Driver. Take me to police head-
quarters, Manhattan South, hurry.

Bless you.

I guess you got my message.

No, I didn't.

Strike that, I don't want to know.
Here you go, your purse.

Turned up in a trash can
a couple blocks from your hotel.

Really?

Now, if you'll just sign this,
I can get home...

to a warm beer and cold pizza.

Everything's still there except for
your check the cash and credit cards.

- Proves the perp was after money.
- No, I'm not sure of that.

Slocum.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I hate that.

- What is it, Sergeant?
- Coincidence.

Coroner says there were
scratches on Bergman's hand.

From human fingernails. Which
doesn't mean he was your mugger.

And it doesn't matter anyway,
since I got my killer.

But damn it, I'm a Virgo.
I hate loose ends.

Especially ones that just
complicate your life without...

having anything to do with anything.

I'm sorry, I'm not following you.

A burglary at
the murder victim's apartment.

20 minutes ago.

Duty cop takes a break, some
junky busts in and trashes the place.

- I mean, go figure.
- That is curious.

Anyway, the reason I'm here
is because of that envelope.

Mrs. Fletcher, don't start.

Suppose Mr. Bergman
inadvertently gave me...

- the wrong envelope.
- We've been over this.

Which contained valuable material...

that he had to retrieve
anonymously and surreptitiously.

Yeah? Like what?

Something that he was using
to blackmail someone.

Blackmail, give me a break.

But that would explain why
Mr. Bergman was desperate enough...

to come to my hotel.

Just sign it
so we can get out of here.

You must admit,
it seems awfully tidy...

that Ross McKay would happen to
arrange a parole for Preston Giles...

- so Preston could work for him.
- Mrs. Fletcher...

and Mr. McKay also happens
to employ Martin Bergman who...

he knows Preston had to have fired
for embezzlement...

and threatened
six and a half years ago.

And in less than a week, when
Preston, Martin and the secretary...

happened to be alone in the office,
someone murdered Mr. Bergman?

Not someone, Preston Giles.

Or someone who wanted to kill Bergman
and make it look like Preston did it.

That someone who was being
blackmailed by Mr. Bergman.

- You're telling me it was all a...
- You should really see a doctor.

You seem to have some sort of allergy.

And I just figured out what it is.

I'm allergic to you.

Tell me, Sergeant.

Do you think it would be possible
for us to obtain...

a search warrant at this time
of night?

A search warrant?
What are you thinking about now?

Evidence of blackmail.

That's it. Good night.

But I haven't finished yet.

Have a nice trip back to Maine,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Not until you consider
one more possibility.

Okay. One.

Suppose that when our
blackmailed victim...

murdered Mr. Bergman,

he was unable to find whatever
Bergman was blackmailing him with.

So later, he burglarized Bergman's
apartment hoping to find it there.

I can't believe I let
you talk me into this.

We don't even know
what we're looking for.

Jess, I can't tell you
how wonderful this feels.

Thanks for believing me
when no one else would.

You may not be in the clear just yet.

There's something that doesn't
feel right about Ross's story.

He denies killing Bergman, of course,
but he also denies being blackmailed.

He claims that he
discovered that Mr. Bergman...

was embezzling.

I can't say that surprises me.

- May I drop you at your hotel?
- Thank you, yes.

East 49th Street, driver.

So, why the skepticism, Jess?

Embezzlement would certainly
give Ross a believable motive.

I know. And the police seem to agree.

Ross insists that he was simply
searching the office for a clue...

to where Bergman
had hidden the money.

But I can't shake off the
feeling that something is missing.

Driver, please take me to Wall Street.

Lady, make up your mind, will you?
That's clear back the other way.

Driver, the lady said Wall Street,
she means Wall Street.

And I want him out on bail
by 4 o'clock, you understand?

No, you listen to me.

Every minute that Ross
remains under this cloud...

threatens the survival
of Sutton Place Publishing...

not to mention
the deal I'm putting together.

Excuse me. There's
a Mrs. Fletcher here to see you.

- I told her you were busy but...
- Tell her again.

Hello Mrs. McKay,
thanks for seeing me.

I hate to barge in like this,
but it's terribly important.

Just do it, Arthur. Call me back.

You have exactly one minute,
Mrs. Fletcher.

I hope this isn't about getting
your jailbird friend Preston Giles...

exonerated at my husband's expense.

It's about getting them
both exonerated, Mrs. McKay.

At the expense of the real murderer.

I'm curious about your husband's
relationship with your employer...

Kendall Stafford. And also
with the late Martin Bergman.

- I don't know what you're...
- Talking about? Blackmail.

What exactly did Mr. Bergman
have on your husband?

Goodbye, Mrs. Fletcher.

You husband could go to prison
for many years...

for a murder
he may not have committed.

Maybe you don't care about that...

but I do know that you'd be unhappy
about the financial repercussions.

So it was blackmail.

A couple of years ago,
Linnette's husband,

Ross and Kendall
Stafford were involved in...

some sort of a bond fraud.

Now, Martin Bergman
found out about it.

He made Photostats of documents...

that could have put them
both behind bars for years.

Then that's it.

Ross killed Martin to silence him,

and arranged it so I'd take the blame.

That's why he got me out of prison,
to be the scape goat.

That makes sense,
except for one thing.

Linnette swore to me...

that Ross was at home with her
when Mr. Bergman was killed.

Well, she's Lying.

I'm not so sure.

There was something in
the way that she told me...

that I believed her.

- Well if it wasn't Ross,
- Well...

last night at the party,
Millie Stafford told me that...

she'd had to attend the opera alone...

because her husband was working
late at the office with Linnette.

But if Linnette
is telling the truth,

Then Kendall Stafford has no alibi.

- But how do you prove it?
- I don't know.

There was no evidence at the scene,
no witnesses.

I better tell this to Sergeant Slocum.

Maybe he'll make
some sense out of it.

Why don't you hold off
on that. Just for tonight.

- Why?
- Well...

Just an idea. I won't talk about it
until I've thought this through.

Preston?

Please, Jess. Just do as I ask.

I'll call you later.

Again at the bottom of page 234 it
feels as if you're rushing the scene.

Let it run its course.

That's about it, Mr. Nolan.

I don't know what’ll be happing
here at Sutton Place Publishing...

but my advice is
to find another publisher.

You're too good and so is your book
to let it die.

I hope these notes will be useful
to you.

Just because Giles doesn't answer
the phone doesn't mean trouble.

For all we know, he isn't even there.

The doorman said he went to the
office. There's something wrong.

He had that look on his face earlier.

Good evening Mr. Giles.

Mrs. Stafford.

You sent my husband a note
requesting a breakfast meeting.

I had the good sense to intercept it.

I have some business
to discuss with him.

The note said it involved some papers.

Once owned by Martin Bergman...

implicating my husband in
a financial swindle.

I want those papers, Mr. Giles.

- I don't have them with me.
- Yes.

That's what Martin tried to tell me.

- You believe they were in his pocket?
- I see.

So you took them out
of his pocket after you killed him?

Well, he didn't leave me much choice.

He'd been bleeding me dry.
After all, it was my money...

that Kendall had been paying Martin...

the past couple of years.
I finally got a little sick of it.

My big mistake was
believing Martin when he said...

there was only one copy.

The papers, Mr. Giles?

There in a safe place where
no one will ever find them.

Except me, of course.

No one, Mr. Giles?

Interesting.

I'm going to risk believing you.

It's Mrs. Stafford.

Mrs. Stafford!

Hold it!

Put your hands on the car, lady.

Lift up.

Let's go, lady.

Preston!

Preston!

A man has been shot in
the Sutton Place Publishing suite.

Hurry, please!

Preston, Preston...

We've got her, Jess.

The tape.

He was bleeding me dry.

After all, it was my money...

that Kendall had been paying
Martin the past couple of years.

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