All language subtitles for MSW s07e16 From the Horses Mouth.eng

Unless you pay what you owe
me I'm taking you to court.

It will need some fancy footwork
to tap dance around those two.

I'm damned if I do and
I'm damned if I don't.

Tonight on "Murder She Wrote"...

Have you thought of hiring
a private investigator?

Who would I hire?

Harry McGraw?
Never heard of him.

There was an accident at the track.

Harry, how would you like to slip
into something more comfortable?

A horse?
Your surprise witness is a horse?

He's quite sensitive, you know.

Ladies and gentlemen,
a spectacular afternoon of...

thoroughbred racing continues
now with our feature race.

It's a 100.000 dollar stakes race.

The call is "riders up"
and the horses and jockeys...

are coming onto the race track
for our feature race.

There's a field of 8.
Scratch number 9, Donbiel.

Seventh race post time in moments.
Please place your wagers.

Looking ahead to the eight race,
these changes... Big Palooka...

200 on Big Palooka, please.

I'm sorry.
That's number 3, twice.

Thank you.

Race day madness strikes again.

Canny New England lady
transformed into high roller.

No. Anything over two dollars,

and the butterflies in my stomach
turn into hummingbirds.

This is for my friend,
Harry McGraw, back in Boston.

Wait until the supermarket rags
break this scandal:

"J.B. Fletcher, moonlights as bookie".

- You remember Tod, my fiancée?
- Yes, of course. How are you?

Hi, Jessica.

- The bravest man in Kentucky.
- The bravest man in Kentucky!

The only trainer at the track to
defy that old boy network...

and hire a woman vet.

Only so I could see how she looked at
04:00 emergencies before marrying her.

And have you set the wedding date?

The day after we get both our fathers
to stop feuding with each other.

We'd better elope. They'll only ever
bury the hatchet in each other.

- Would you like to join us?
- I'd love to.

Hi honey.
Good luck!

What?

What?

Really?

I really am sorry to hear that.

Her what Miss Emmaline?

Big Palooka, he just said he
has this monstrous headache.

He didn't slip you the winner did he?

Lamar Morgan, that's
complete nonsense.

- Horses can't predict the future.
- Did you just say "Lamar Morgan"?

- Hello.
- Hi.

Are you the Lamar Morgan,
of Morgan Hill Farm?

Why, yes. What can I do
for you young lady?

I have something for you.

You all have a nice day.

What's wrong, Lamar?

Randolph Sterling.

But Randolph, honey...

sailing the South Seas would be
the most romantic cruise ever.

- Tod can manage the farm.
- I can't spare the time, Althea.

It'll just be for a few weeks.

After that, all the cruises
are booked solid.

The only thing I want booked
solid is King Paragon.

When a horse costs me
6 million dollars,

nobody handles the breeding but me.

I swear, I do not understand
your fascination...

with arranging sexual
liaisons for horses.

Just keep in mind dear,
it's those liaisons that buy...

the beautiful baubles that put
sparkle in your eyes.

- Daddy!
- There you are, Diana?

Wonderful news.
King Paragon's coming out party.

I managed to wrangle an introduction
to some very wealthy Japanese.

Althea, make sure Eddie
orders them some "sake".

Diana, how sweet.

You promoted me to
your Daddy's caterer.

Here comes your brother, and his
sweet little friend, the horse doctor.

Don't they make a handsome couple?

Tod's so good looking,
and Chris is so full of life,

and just exuding all
that virginal purity.

What would you know about that?

Jessica, you remember my father
Randolph, the Squire of Sterling Stud?

- Yes. Nice to see you, Randolph.
- The pleasure's mine.

- It's been far too long.
- Thank-you.

- My dear friend, Althea Mayberry...
- How do you do?

- My daughter Diana.
- Hello.

My goodness, you know, the last
time I was here was 10 years ago.

You were away at
university somewhere.

In Cambridge, before
they threw me out.

Luckily I had a bridegroom
waiting in the wings.

Yes, I remember reading about
your wedding in the newspapers.

- You were married to an earl?
- A lord. Lord Snowcroft.

After a few years I threw him out.

Sterling, I want a word with you.

Just what in the hell does that mean?

It means that unless you pay what
you owe me, I'm taking you to court.

I don't owe you a damn cent,
and you know it.

You have 2 foals at your place
sired by King Paragon.

Fees and punitive damages should
come to about half a million.

- There has to be a way to work it out.
- Sure, he can write me a check.

For what?

I didn't ask my mares to
be bred by King Paragon.

No? Somebody arranged a conjugal
meeting in the dead of night?

Well, it sure in hell wasn't me.

That, old friend, remains to be seen.

I am not spoiling my day.

Jessica. See you in court, Lamar.

Come along, ladies.

It was quite a shock coming out...

that morning to find King Paragon
with Daddy's mares.

Lord knows how he got here.

But if the Sterling Stud is next door,
couldn't he have jumped the fence?

No. He's always locked
in the stall at night.

But I can't understand
why nobody saw it.

There were no witnesses.
Stable hands, watchmen, somebody.

If anyone saw, they're not talking.

And I know the police haven't
been much help, that's for sure.

Have you though of hiring
a private investigator?

Who would I hire?

They are beautiful.

But, my goodness, half a million
dollars is a high price...

to pay for siring a couple of foals.

Not when you remember King Paragon
won both the English and French Derbies.

But half a million's way more than
Pops could pay, even if he wanted.

We've had a couple of lean years.

What if he loses the suit?

Well, then he loses the foals,
and probably the farm.

You know Christie, I have an idea.

Maybe this calls for an
out-of-town investigator,

who isn't easily intimidated, and
who has an abiding passion for horses.

- Breeding?
- Betting.

...coming around the far
turn it's Elmo's Flyer...

then Bobbing Dobbin'
and Horizontal Two Step.

Titillating Tillie coming
up on the outside.

Go for it, baby!

Yeah?

Harry McGraw?
Never heard of him.

Harry, it's Jessica.

Hi, Jessica, how you doing?
Thanks for placing that bet for me.

Harry, I'm sorry your horse lost.

Well, that's why they call him
Big Palooka. So, what's up?

Well, if you want to recoup,
I have a job for you.

Well, I'm not in the market
for a job right now.

I've got 500 bucks on the nose...

on a sure thing at Suffolk Downs.
Straight from the horse's mouth.

Hang on... I just got another call.

Now Bless Dinty Fella
starts to make a move.

Come on, baby. I love you.
Go for it, Tillie!

Bless Dinty Fella moves up,
but Titillating Tillie slips back.

Hang in there! What're you doing?
Running backwards?

Bless Dinty Fella wins, Elmo's Flyer
second, then Infirm O'Purpose.

Jessica... that job.
What is it and when do I start?

Well, Randolph, you know
how much I'd love to oblige.

I said no postponements, Harley.
You hear?

But they've got to have time
to prepare their defense.

I want that case on
your calendar now.

And try to remember which side...

your ballot is buttered on.

Why, sure Randolph.

To hell with that, Martha Jane.

- Give me a straight shot.
- Afternoon session in 10 minutes.

Add some mint.
Let's call it a "julep".

It's going to take some fancy footwork
to tap dance around those two.

Randolph Sterling
may have political clout,

but Lamar Morgan is one of the
most beloved men in this county.

You know, Martha Jane, I've
been feeling real poor lately.

Doc says I ought to
take some time off,

maybe relax...? Go fly fishing?

Or get impeached.

Very nice.

You're going to take the
enemy camp by storm.

Thank you. If Harry ever gets here!
Maybe I shouldn't have wired...

him the money for the fare
while the track was still open.

I realize that this family squabble
is very hard on you and Tod.

But things are beginning to look up.

Look at all these people who
are shopping for horses.

Maybe that's him.

Miss. Morgan? Harlan McGraw the
Third, of Boston, Massachusetts.

How do you do?

Better, now that you're here,
Mr. McGraw. Please come in.

Hi, Jessica.
You ready to roll?

Harry, you really look...
Well, words fail me.

She means is she's surprised I have
threads this sharp in my closet.

The fact is, I borrowed them from
a friend who owes me a favor.

- That was very nice of him.
- It was. Did he know about it?

Well, the fact is, he's out of town.

I'd like to get them back to Boston by
Friday, before he returns from Vegas.

Friday?
That's not very long.

What, to dig up a couple of witnesses?
Piece of cake.

Shall we, Miss Scarlet?

A pleasure, Mr. Rhett.

- Have a nice time.
- Thanks.

Harley, I was just
talking to the boys...

about a fund-raiser
for your re-election.

That's mighty nice of you,
and I do appreciate that very much.

And if anything untoward should happen
in my suit against Lamar Morgan,

it could pay for your
retirement party.

How about one of those
filled up with "ginger-ale"?

And try to make it a good year.

You appear to be a stranger.

I'm partial to strangers.

Whatever turns you on.

I'm a friend of the host.

That's quite a coincidence.
I'm a friend of one of the guests.

I'd go easy on the bubbles
if I were you. It ages the skin.

While we're on the subject,
you could use a touch-up.

Thank-you, Lady Chatterley.

Lady who?

Diana is a Lady by marriage only.

If you'll excuse me?

Thanks.

Hello, Harry. You know Tod.
This is his father.

Randolph Sterling, Mr. McGraw.

The Randolph Sterling who
owned Randolph's Rebel?

- The same.
- Whatever happened to that nag?

He's still standing at stud.

The first time I saw him,
he was left standing at the gate.

It was the sixth at Rockingham,
July 9th, 10 years ago, six furlongs.

He had the rail, broke last...

but still managed to finish
4th at 16-to-1 in 1.12 and a fifth.

You've got quite a memory.

I never forget the ones
I lose a bundle on.

Harry is thinking of investing in
racing stock, instead of tickets.

I'm surprised you haven't steered
him to your friend Lamar Morgan.

When it comes to horses you've
got to go for the class.

And I hear you got the
classiest stud in Kentucky.

How about a gander at him, Randy?

I think that's a wonderful idea.
Where is King Paragon, Randolph?

Ladies and gentlemen,
the guest of honor...

King Paragon!

The name says it all.

You all know his breeding
and his race record.

You also know how rare it is to get in
on the ground floor of a syndicate,

where the yearly return
on each share, foal or fee,

is 100.000 dollars, to begin with.

And with this noble beast,

the sky's the limit.

- 100 grand for just...
- Yes, Harry. Just...

Poor King Paragon,
he's so dreadfully unhappy.

Yes? How do you know?

He told me so.

He tell you why?

Well, wouldn't you be miserable
if your body were used in that...

dreadful fashion?

The All-American Champion.

Now, I'm sure that some
of you are very anxious...

to see King Paragon's first foals,

- but...
- My foals, Sterling.

They're my foals!

And they're in my field!

Lamar, may we discuss
this later, please?

No, we're going to discuss
it right here and now.

You figured you could get me into a
bind turning him loose with my mares.

That's very clever, but you're
not going to get away with it...

because I'll see you dead first.

Come on, Mr. Morgan.
Let's get some fresh air.

- Fresh air.
- Don't forget.

Jessica, Miss. Emmaline...

Ladies.

So much for family loyalty.

Tod's not back from the track yet.

- I wish he hadn't left Pops alone.
- Well, he thought he was coming home.

But I wouldn't worry yet, Christie.
It's only half a mile away.

And if anyone can track
him down, Harry will.

- Now, can I get you a cup of tea?
- No, thanks.

- Hello?
- Good news, kid.

Your old man's safe and sound.

He's swapping stories in a gin mill
called Grogan's Backstretch Tavern.

Why don't you and Jessica
go put on the old feed bag...

and I'll bring him home as
soon as I can pry him loose.

Okay. And Harry... thanks.

- Your dad's all right.
- Better than he'll be in the morning.

Morgan Hill.

Hi, Tod.

What, honey?

Okay. I'll meet you there.

- Trouble?
- Yes. An accident at the track.

Tod's vanning a filly
back to his farm.

You know, Jessica,
I hate to leave you here alone...

If you give me a minute, I'll go
change and I'll go with you,

- if I won't be in the way.
- No.

No, I don't treat all the Sterling
stock. Just the ones that Tod trains.

But you know the security code?

Yes. In fact, Tod's father was
convinced I was the one...

who let King Paragon loose
to get at the mares...

It looks like Tod's not here yet.
Might as well wait inside.

Jessica...

He's dead.

Tyrone, near as I can make out, he's
been dead for at least half an hour.

I can pinpoint it better
after the autopsy.

Blow to the head?
Caused by this?

Could be.

Ma'am.

Ma'am please don't touch anything.

I'm not touching. Just reading.

What is it, Jessica?

Well, it's a note to Randolph
Sterling from Althea Mayberry.

"Randolph, I knew Diana
resented the idea...

of any other woman becoming
mistress of Sterling Stud,

but I never thought you'd allow her
to usurp my role as your hostess.

I cannot put a price on my
hurt and humiliation,

but I'm sure my attorney can.

Althea."

What is it?
What happened?

- Diana, don't come in. You're just...
- My God.

It's Daddy!

He did it...

her father.

- He said he would do it and he did.
- Diana, we don't know that.

Somebody threaten to
kill your daddy, ma'am?

You're damned right, Sheriff.
Lamar Morgan, this afternoon.

You were there,
Mrs. Fletcher, you heard him!

But I'm sure Lamar
didn't mean it literally.

Well, of course he didn't, Diana.

Pops couldn't kill anybody,
and you know it.

I'll tell you what I know:

your Pops telephoned while I
was on the way to the airport.

He said he had to talk to Daddy.

Tod, I was in such
a rush, I didn't think.

I'm never going to be
able to forgive myself.

I told him that Daddy was here,
and he must have come and killed him.

It's okay.

- I'll take her back to the house.
- I'll get your statements later.

I can't tell you how
sorry I am about all this.

Come on, let's go.

Suppose you ladies tell me what
brings a visit this time of night?

My God, I forgot all about the filly.

Excuse me.

Tod called her about
an injured horse...

and when we got here Mr. Sterling...

What about Lamar?
He at home?

No, he's with a friend, Mr. McGraw.

Sheriff, I'm quite sure you
noticed a couple of things.

Things? What things?

Well, for instance,
that jacket over there.

There seems to be a blood
stain on the left sleeve.

It doesn't seem likely he would have
been wearing it when he was struck,

So, I suppose the question is...

when did the blood
get on it and how?

If it is blood.

Yes. It certainly looks different
from the dark stains on his hand...

- and on the sleeve of his shirt.
- I've seem them.

Yes, you'd have to be blind not to.

The lab boys will check all that out.

Mrs. Fletcher,

I've heard about you.

Now, poking around in police
business in the big city,

that may be fine, but down here...

Well, we really don't appreciate
a lot of civilian interference.

Well, I'll certainly
keep that in mind.

See, the fact of the matter is I got
me a water moccasin by the tail here.

I'm going to be tiptoeing on
eggshells just to keep my job.

Christie?

Last stall on the right.

It's Mr. Padley.

- Good evening, Mrs. Fletcher.
- Good evening.

What happened to King Paragon?

Rapped his ankle going
over a fence, he did.

Kicked his door down.
By the time I got here,

he was out in the pasture,
running around with the yearlings.

I wonder what happened
to make him do that?

Who knows.

Maybe it was that bloody awful
row going on in the office.

I don't suppose you recognized
any of the voices?

Not likely.

I was off on the run to
get his highness here.

By the time we got back,
it was all over.

Wasn't until the Sheriff's people
showed up I learned what happened.

It's a rotten shame.

Fine gentleman Mr. Sterling was.

- Christie...
- Hi, Jessica.

- Here, let me.
- Thanks.

Derek, do you want me to
take an X-ray of that ankle?

He'll be all right.

I've got a machine that'll
take that swelling down faster.

I've been with this horse since he
was a green thing, just off the farm.

He's had harder knocks than this.

And I don't trust those bloody
new machines, anyway.

Ice will do just fine, won't it boy?

Translation:
"I don't trust a woman vet".

And how's your patient?

Bone chip. Prognosis, excellent.

Jessica, I'm not nearly as worried
about her as I am about Pops.

I just hope he wasn't anywhere
near this place tonight.

...my old Kentucky home.

It's Summer,

the feelings are good.

The corn's top ripe,

and the meadows in the bloom.

And the birds seem merry all day.

Weep no more my ladies...

Weep no more today.

Hi, Sheriff. What can I do for you?

Weep no more today...

You can help us put
him in the cruiser.

Since when is it a crime to
drink good Kentucky Bourbon.

- Just who are you mister?
- I'm the designated driver.

Let's see some I.D.

Is there some kind of problem?

I don't know. Is there?

Private investigator.

What's your business
here, Mr. McGraw?

None of yours, Sheriff.

It is if you're trying to cook up
an alibi for Lamar Morgan.

An alibi? For what?

Murder, maybe.

...my old Kentucky home.

It's true, Jessica.

- I did go over there.
- But why, Lamar?

So Randolph couldn't hang up
the phone before hearing me out.

You see, one of the folks who
came by to see the foals,

offered me a half a
million dollars for one.

But they had to have
an answer by today,

So I proposed to Randolph
that he lift the injunction...

and I'd place the proceeds in trust...

until the court could hear our case.

So he said no, and you
popped him one, right?

Derek Padley,
King Paragon's groom,

said that there was a
terrible row going on.

We had words. Loud ones, too.

Loud enough for neither one of you...

to hear King Paragon
kick his door out?

Good Lord, no. Something like
that would have stopped us cold.

- Pops!
- I'm okay, honey.

I'm fine... just fine.

Jessica, I can smell wood burning.

Harry, if King Paragon could
kick himself free last night,

he could have done it before.

Now, maybe it was his idea to
mate with the Morgan mares.

Yes. Maybe he wasn't quite as
miserable as Miss Emmaline figured.

Well Mrs. Fletcher, we may
talk a mite slower down here,

but our lab is just as
good as they come.

Those stains on Mr. Sterling's hand?

Nothing but old-fashioned hair dye.

Hair dye?

But Randolph's hair was gray.

What about the stains on the jacket?

Those were blood sure enough,

but it wasn't Mr. Sterling's.

I figure that when the lab compares
them to Lamar Morgan's,

I'm going to have the lid
nailed on this very tight.

I want to thank you
so much for your help.

You all have a nice day.

I think his lid's a little loose.

Let's face it, Harry.
Things don't look good.

Yes. Maybe.

Suddenly I can smell your wood
burning, Harry. What is it?

Something he said about hair dye...

a subject on which I
happen to be an expert.

Bottled blondes... carrot tops...

and raven-haired brunettes.

- Who is it?
- Room service.

Hi, Althea.

I thought we might have a little
private wake for Randolph Sterling.

Come in Mr. McGraw.

It'd be so nice to have a
strong shoulder to cry on.

- I must look a fright.
- No, you look terrific.

It's just infuriating to know
that if I hadn't let that...

conniving little Diana mess things up,
I'd be the widow Sterling by now.

The rich widow Sterling.

But Randy seemed like
a pretty classy guy.

He must have left you
something in the will.

Small comfort, knowing what a
chunk Miss Piggy will be getting.

Miss Piggy? I thought you
called her Lady Chatterley.

That was a literary allusion.

Harry, how would you like to slip
into something more comfortable?

Like what?

Like my bedroom.

Well, I've always been
partial to brunettes.

You know, you've got gorgeous hair?
What color do you call that?

Whatever it said on
the bottle, darling.

Is that why Diana made a crack
about you needing a touch-up?

- So what?
- Nothing.

I was wondering if maybe you were
touching up your hair with dye...

when Randolph came to
see you after the party.

- You some kind of mind reader?
- No, just a wild guess.

But, actually, he did have hair dye
on his hand and on his shirt cuff.

His cuff?

I was aiming the bottle
at the skunk's head.

What happened?

After he left you wrote a note...

and delivered it to
him at his office?

What did he do?

Tell the inn keeper that you'd have
to pay your own rent from here on in?

You think I'd let any
man treat me like that?

No.

Not if there was a heavy
walking stick nearby.

- Get out. Get out!
- Okay, I'm going.

I'll take a rain check on
the tour of the boudoir.

Ciao honey!

Half a million on the hoof.

So Jessica, did you ever hear of
a dame named Lady Chatterley?

Why Harry, I never knew
that you had a literary streak.

I don't. But that's what
Althea called Diana...

and I figured it wasn't
much of a compliment.

Lady Chatterley was a character
who was created by D.H. Lawrence.

She had an affair with
her husband's gamekeeper.

Well, that's screwy.
I mean Diana's not married...

and I haven't seen any
gamekeepers around here.

Maybe not so screwy, Harry.

Diana was married
to Lord Snowcroft,

who has a very large
estate in England.

Yes? He into hunting game?

Into racing horses.

Hello. It's Edie, isn't it?

- Yes, ma'am
- Is Tod around?

No, ma'am. He's gone to the track.
You know, business as usual.

You're not planning to wash all
those windows, I hope. It's a big job.

Well, it's what they pay me for.

Mrs. Fletcher,

is it true what I heard?
That they arrested Mr. Lamar?

Yes.

Well, now, that is just
out and out nonsense.

I mean, he is a fine gentleman,
just like Mr. Randolph.

It's truly a shame those two feuding
after being friends all those years.

It must have been very
hard on Miss Christie.

Yes. And on Diana too, I suppose.

Well, maybe yes and maybe no.

I mean, 10 years in England did not
improve her manners, or disposition.

Ma'am,

I am not one to gossip, and I
certainly didn't mean to eavesdrop,

but, since I hear you are
trying to help Mr. Lamar,

I guess you should know this.

I heard hollering in the
den the other night...

when I was helping to
clean up after the party.

And Diana was angry with her father?

No. It was the other way around.
He was angry with her.

He said that, well, she just never
did have any taste in men...

and he'd be damned if he'd let
her throw any more money away.

And she said, well, it would be
her money some day.

So why couldn't she just
spend it any way she wanted.

Well, he told her not to be so sure.

She said he'd be a fool to leave
it to her turncoat brother...

who was defending Lamar
Morgan against his own father.

Miss Diana screamed at him.

Daddy, can't you see what
Christie's done to him?

Tod hates your guts!

Eddie, think back...

this is very important.

When Mr. Sterling came
home for dinner,

did you notice any
stains on his jacket...

or on his shirt cuff?

No, ma'am. If there had been so
much as a spot he'd have changed.

I mean, Mr. Randolph...

was very particular
about his appearance...

even down at the stable.

It was just the kind of man he was...

and, ma'am,

it's truly a shame he didn't take the
same care dealing with his family.

McGraw, you're supposed
to be an investigator.

- What about this lawsuit?
- Lawsuit, my Aunt Tillie!

What about you in the
slammer for murder?

Tyrone is stomping around
out there making threats...

about court orders to cooperate.
What is this about, Pops?

Well, he just wants me to give some
blood and you know I hate needles.

I think maybe you'd better get
your dad's lawyer over here.

Right, Lamar?

Maybe you'd better, honey.

Pops...

The thing is, it is my blood
on Randolph's jacket.

It got there when we mixed
it up in his office...

and he hit me on the nose.

Sweetheart, get the lawyer.

This Sheriff, you sure
he read you your rights?

He's not that dumb.

Look McGraw, I didn't kill Randolph.

We mixed it up a bit but you
couldn't really call it a fight.

He bloodied my nose,
and I decked him.

So why's the Sheriff holding you?
He wasn't killed with a fist.

No. He was killed with
that fancy walking stick.

And now it's got two
sets of prints on it.

Randolph's...

and mine.

They got your prints
on the murder weapon?

We had words...

What kind of a fool do
you think I am, Lamar?

If anyone gets those foals,
it's going to be me.

And as long as that
injunction stands...

you can't sell them
or race them.

Damn you, Randolph!

I thought we could settle
this like gentlemen.

I forgot you were a high-handed,
four-flushing carpet bagger's son!

He bloodied my nose.

So I took that damn walking stick
away from him, and I decked him.

And then what?

- Well, I walked out.
- And what about Sterling?

The last I saw, he was on
the floor, cussing me out.

I got through to his law office.

Mark Mason's on his way.

I'd be a lot happier if his
first name was Perry.

- Anybody else?
- No, thanks.

You know, there's one thing
that doesn't make sense to me.

I a hell of a shouting match with Dad
right outside King Paragon's stall.

The horse didn't turn a hair.

Well, if we believe your father,

and I do,

then someone else came into that...

stable soon after your father left.
Very soon.

But who else besides Lamar was mad
enough at your old man to ice him?

Well, we do know one thing.
Whoever went to the office...

either had to have been
admitted to the premises...

or had known the entry code.

Wasn't there a security
guard on duty?

Old Lester.

He always took catnaps
between rounds.

We all knew it, but Dad never
had the heart to fire him.

It must have been
more than a catnap...

to have missed that quarrel
and King Paragon...

kicking the door out.

Well, the fact is, Mrs. Fletcher...

Lester was smashed.
Smelled just like a brewery.

Speaking of which,

I'd better go check on the new guy.

I'll go with you. I need to
look in on the filly.

- We'll be back soon, Jessica.
- Thanks.

You know, I feel really sorry for Tod.

Losing his own father, and now
being concerned about Christie's.

Yes.

Not to mention maybe being
responsible for the whole thing.

Tod? Responsible?
How?

Come on, Jessica.
It reads like a B-movie.

The guy goes ga-ga over this girl,
he knows her old man's...

got money problems, so he
decides to play match-maker...

for a couple of his mares.

I'll lay you 9-to-5 the beef he had
with his old man was over the lawsuit.

No. If Tod had been responsible,
he would have said so.

Jessica, people tend to clam up
when there's money involved...

And this kid's inheritance
isn't exactly car fare.

You know, Harry...

I have an idea.

Do you have any contacts
with the British...

horse racing community?

Well, I know the guy who makes
book for the Prince of Wales.

Could you call him...
get some information?

Sure.

What Irving doesn't know about
horse flesh doesn't exist.

But it will cost you.

I mean, Irving's favorite
charity is Irving.

Harry, in England it's only 03:00.

This guy never leaves his phones,
or his computer.

- Well, when does he sleep?
- Sleep? What's that?

Let me have information
for London, England.

So what do you want to know?

I beg your pardon, Miss Morgan?

You want to have this preliminary
hearing held where?

In a stable at Sterling Stud.
Your Honor.

My dear child, may I remind you
that your dad is being held on a...

charge of murder in the first degree.

This request, at least to me,
sounds capricious.

Excuse me, Your Honor, but this
entire case revolves around a horse...

named King Paragon and his
mysterious disappearance...

from the stable in question.

And the outcome of this hearing
could affect my father's trial.

Wait there, Miss Christie.

This case must be heard
on its own merits...

and quite apart from the other charge.

My client agrees to that, Your Honor.

Sterling Stud agrees with the request
to hold this hearing at the farm.

You realize you're going along with
what appears to be a delaying tactic?

Only in the interest
of justice, Your Honor.

Justice, my foot!

There'll be no stalling and no
hearing without my participation...

as one half the surviving
family of Randolph Sterling.

No hearing, Sis?
Well, that suits me just fine.

Let's call the whole
thing off right now.

No. I want it settled now.

Agreed.

We'll hear opening statements
at 14:00 in the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in as much as
there's a lot of hot air in here,

I suggest we first enjoy
some fresh air...

out at Sterling Stud.

- Thank you, Your Honor.
- Don't thank me yet, young lady.

There better be a damn good reason
for this inconvenience to all of us.

There is, sir.

The fact is, Mrs. Fletcher has
come up with a surprise witness.

Surprise witness?

What surprise witness?

A horse? Your surprise
witness is a horse?

Not just any horse, Diana.

But a horse we all
know as King Paragon.

And he alone may be the only
witness who can sort out this...

- terrible maze of contradictions.
- This is outrageous!

The stupid animal can't
even think, much less talk.

Diana, you'll hurt his feelings.
He's quite sensitive, you know.

I'll have you all know that
Miss Emmaline has a doctorate...

- in animal behavior.
- How irrelevant can you get?

Knock it off, Justin.

My father's friends will not take
kindly to this subversion of justice.

That remark was uncalled for.

Your Honor, my client is only...

...is trying to influence the judge.
And I will remind you that my father...

has a lot more friends that hers did
and they are behind him 100%.

Now hear this everybody,

I'm going to listen to this
testimony with an open mind.

- You may begin, Miss Emmaline.
- Thank-you.

King Paragon,

do you remember what happened
the night Mr. Sterling was killed?

- He said yes.
- It's a trick.

Do you remember kicking
your way out of your stall?

I told you that, Mrs. Fletcher.

Since Mr. Padley verifies his story,
you may continue Miss Emmaline.

Had you ever done that before?

Had you run off like that to have
a moonlight visit...

with Lamar Morgan's mares?

Your Honor, this is just their
sleazy way of avoiding stud fees.

Getting the horse to
say it was his idea?

Miss. Emmaline?

He said the question was insulting.

He's quite busy fulfilling
his contractual duties.

He doesn't have to go
chasing after it at night.

Excuse me, Your Honor,

but whether the horse went to
the mares of his own accord...

or whether he was led is immaterial.

Morgan Hill Farms no does not owe
Sterling Estates any stud fees.

Mrs. Fletcher wants to know
if your name is really...

King Paragon?

Or if in fact your name is
actually Knight's Sword?

Excuse me, but...

this is madness.

Knights's Sword?
He's dead.

He was struck down by lightning.

It's on record at the
English Jockey Club.

Sure. Just before you were
supposed to ship his full brother...

King Paragon, to Sterling Stud.

And what do you know, it turns
out both horses were owned...

by Lord Snowcroft who sold King
Paragon to Randolph Sterling.

Yes, and both very reputable horsemen.

But what if King Paragon had
died instead of Knight's Sword?

- Impossible.
- I'm just supposing here, sweet face.

I mean, you can't ship a dead horse.

Especially with 6 million
bucks riding on it...

So somebody gets a bright idea.

A quick dye job on Knight's Sword's
white sock, switch the papers and...

lo and behold. King Paragon is
alive and well and living in Kentucky.

Isn't that why you didn't
want to X-ray the horse...

when he was hurt, Mr. Padley?
An X-ray would have revealed...

the old injury that kept
Knight's Sword from racing.

- Utter rot.
- No, I don't think so.

But I also don't think Randolph
Sterling had any idea about...

the deception until the
night he was murdered.

I suspect that he caught you
in the act of touching up...

Knight's Sword's
white marking.

He'd already quarreled with
Diana over her romantic...

involvement with you.
But this was far worse.

This was a matter of family honor.

He would have to expose
the whole fraudulent scheme,

and you Mr. Padley, had no
intention of going to jail.

So you jerked the walking stick
from Randolph and hit him with it.

The horse panicked at
the smell of blood...

and kicked his was through the door.

You moved Randolph back to the office
before you chased after the horse.

No!

Those fingerprints on that walking
stick are Mr. Morgan's, not mine.

Of course. You wore gloves to
protect your hands from dye stains.

And I found these in
the horses' tack box.

Everybody who works
around horses uses those.

Yes?
And does everybody work where...

straw covers up dye...

and bloodstains?

Damn you, Derek!
You told me Lamar killed him.

Easy, Diana.
Take it easy.

It's okay.

You know, I'm real proud of you two.

You pulled off that scam
like a couple of pros.

Scam? What scam?

Where you used the wires to make
the horse's head nod up and down.

But Harry, there were no wires.

No wires?

Wait a minute, it doesn't make sense.
If you and the horse were talking,

how come he never
told you his real name?

I asked him about that, Mr. McGraw.

He apologized, and he
explained he likes it here.

He didn't want to be shipped back
to England. It's much too cold.

McGraw,
you did one hell of a job.

Well, after Althea clued me in,
it all started falling into place.

Lady Chatterley had her gamekeeper...

and Lady Diana
had her horse keeper.

It's simple if you know
your D.H. Lawrence.

But, tell me, why did Padley bring
the horse over to service our mares?

That's easy. Because...

Well, why don't you
tell them, Jessica?

Well, he wanted to make trouble.

Not between you and Randolph,
but between Tod and his father.

You see, Diana and Derek
wanted to run the syndicate.

She knew that Tod would take
your side in a dispute, and with...

Tod out of the picture, she felt
she could talk her father into it.

Harry, we should start
leaving for the airport.

- Jessica, thank you.
- Harry, come back and see us.

- We'll see you in three years.
- What's happening in three years?

The chestnut foal will win the Derby.

Yeah? Who says?

- Knight's Sword told Miss Emmaline.
- Yes?

I'm buying the chestnut foal.
Keeping it in the family.

Didn't Miss Emmaline say that
horses can't predict the future?

No. Fathers can always tell
when they have a special child.

You're kidding me...

- He's putting me on, right?
- Harry, you know what they say.

"There are more things between
heaven and earth than men dream of".

And just in case I don't get back...

You Jessica, you're betting 20 bucks?

On the nose, Harry.

After all, this is one tip that came
straight from the horse's mouth.

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