All language subtitles for Alfred.Hitchcock.Presents.S03E33.Post.Mortem.1080p.PCOK.WEBRip.AAC.2.0.H.265.-EDGE2020_track3_[eng]

Good evening,
members of the garden club.

I have been asked to reveal
some of my
horticultural secrets.

First and foremost,
I recommend
plenty of sunshine.

I think it is
shameful the way some plants
are allowed to loaf all night

when they could be growing.

Of course,
the lamp has other uses.

It also comes with a 5'8"-inch
motor-driven spit,

a basting brush
and a gallon of suntan lotion.

This evening's
entertainment well suits

this sunny and
bucolic atmosphere.

It is called "Post Mortem."

It begins quicker
than you can say...

I could lie here all day.

I know.

You'll stay there till there's
no more hot water,

then you'll get
out and catch cold.

This'll warm up
the room for you.

Oh, you're sweet, darling.

I can't help it, baby.
You're so beautiful
you must be perishable.

We ought to
think about getting

another place,
with a heated bathroom.

Well, we ought to think about
how we could pay the rent.

We don't want to
touch our savings,
of course.

On the other hand,
if we had that money
working for us,

a nice little investment,
the dividends would make up
for the difference.

The bank pays interest.

3%.

Well, it's safe there.

Anyway,
we've already lost $16,000
by investing.

We haven't lost it at all.

Those stocks are
a long-range proposition.
They'll pay off in time.

No, what I was
thinking about, darling,

was something with
a quick turnover.

The kind of investment
I heard about this morning.

Now, don't say no
until you know what it is.

I don't care, Steven.

There's only $9000
of Harry's policy left
and I wanna hang on to it.

Now,
you're just being stubborn.

I don't care.

That's all the money
I've got in this whole world
and I'll never have any more.

There's always my policy.
You'll collect
on that someday.

Oh, Steven,
that's an awful thing to say.

You know how bad
it made me feel
to get Harry's money that way.

That's the only
way you'd ever have

gotten any from
that horse player.

(EXCLAIMING)

Oh, you poor baby,
you burned your hand.

Quick, there's some medicine
on the medicine cabinet.

You take it and
spread it on your hand,

and then I'll
bandage it up for you.

It would never have happened
if we had a heated bathroom.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

Oh, my goodness!

Well, don't tell me
you're the upstairs maid.

No, there's no such thing
except on stage.

Then you must be Mrs.
Harry Mead.

Yes.
No! I'm Mrs. Steven Archer.
I used to be Mrs. Mead.

Who are you, all of you?

Mrs. Archer that
used to be Mrs. Mead,

we're reporters.
Can we come in?

Thank you.

Thank you, Mrs. Archer.

My deepest sympathy
on your bereavement.

Oh, did you know Harry?

My dear young thing,
I never heard of him
before an hour ago.

Well, how'd you know
he was dead?

There's no other
possible explanation.

Why don't you sit
down and tell us
what happened?

About Harry?

Well,
Harry died of a heart attack

after an attack
of indigestion.

How long ago?

Six months ago.

Did you inherit the estate?

Harry didn't have any estate.

No other heirs?

What was his profession?
No.

Playing the horses, mostly.

It figures.

Up here now.

How'd he do?
Say, what is this?

What did you do
before you married Harry?

I was on the stage.
It figures.

Musical comedies, no doubt?

Uh...
Well, how did you know that?

I was only in the chorus
so you couldn't remember me.

How good a picker was he?
Horses, I mean.

Well, that's kind
of hard to say, see,
'cause he never had a winner.

That's my lead.
"Dead horse player
finally picks a winner."

Will somebody please tell me
what you're talking about?

We've got good news
for you, Mrs. Archer.

Your horse won
the Irish Sweepstakes.

My horse?
I don't bet the horses.

All right,
then, Harry's horse.

But you inherited
the winning ticket.

Harry's?

But I don't...
I went all through Harry's

things.
I didn't find any ticket.

We just got
the flash from London.

The winning tickets on Ravenal
are held by three persons.

One in Boston,
one in San Francisco

and a Mr.
Harry Mead, 1452 Iris Avenue.

Right name?
Yes.

Right address?
Yes.

I would have come across it.

He must've hidden it on you.
I'd look around
real good, Mrs. Archer.

That ticket is worth $133,000.

133,000...

Dollars.

What are you going to do
with all that money, Mrs.
Archer?

I don't know.

I didn't even know
there was that much money
in the whole world.

I can't even think straight.

MAN: What's the first thing
you're gonna buy?

I don't know.

Yes, I do.
I'm gonna buy a house.

And I wanna buy a house
with a heated bathroom.

Did you find it?

No, I didn't find it.
It's not here. I've gone
through this junk three times.

What've you got there?

I found this
out in the garage.

If it's not in here,
it's not anywhere.

(GROANING)

Oh, honey. Let me do this.

It's got to be somewhere.
He bought a ticket,
we know that.

He couldn't sell it
because it's not transferable.

And I know horse players.
They never lose a ticket
and they never throw one away...

That's just
a bunch of old letters.

They were mine,
the ones I wrote to Harry.
I didn't know he kept them.

Maybe it's in one of them.

No, it couldn't be.
They were written long
before we were married.

I was in that
road company of...

Maybe he hid it there anyway.
I'll go through this bunch.

No, you don't, either.
They're personal

and I don't want
strangers reading them.

Stranger? I'm your husband.

Well, you weren't then.

Sorry. It's just that I
don't want you reading

letters I wrote to
another man. That's all.

I'm not
interested in reading them.
I want that ticket.

Judy,
there's $133,000 involved.

That's a fortune.

We'd be rich, wouldn't we?

Yeah.

You open that
and I'll open this one.

I'm so sorry, honey.
We could have done so much
with that money.

We've got to
find that ticket.

Think, Judy.
Where would he hide it?

Honey, I just don't know
where to look any more.

All right. All right,
we'll start all over again.
We'll think like Harry.

Now, he buys a ticket
on the Irish Sweepstakes,

and he doesn't want
you to know about it.

He was always promising
to stop gambling.

So he hides it somewhere
or he carries it
around with him.

Well,
it wasn't in his billfold.

Did you ever throw
any of his things out
or give them away?

Of course not.
Oh,
I gave his suit to Goodwill.

That's it.
That's where he kept it.

It was in one of
the pockets of that suit
and you gave it away.

No, it wasn't in
one of the pockets.

Now, if you know
anything about women,

you'll know that I
went through that suit
right to the lining.

It wasn't in that suit.
I'm positive of that.

What happened to the rest
of his clothes?

That's the only place
we haven't looked.

It must be in one
of his other suits.

He only had three.
You know Harry.

Every single time
he saved enough money

to buy a suit, he met a bookie
on the way to the store.

What happened
to the other two?

(SIGHING)

Well, that plaid one
I started cutting up
to make a skirt out of.

The blue one.
He had a dark blue one,
I remember it.

That was his best suit.

And the ticket's in it.
That's the only
place it could be.

Steven, that doesn't...
We've got it.

I know the ticket's
in one of the pockets
of that suit.

Steven,
that doesn't help us at all.

Why doesn't it?

Because that was the suit
that Harry was buried in.

Steven, I've been
thinking it all over
and it's all very simple.

We're going to get that money.

You've got to
present the ticket.

All right. We'll get it.

What?

We'll just have
the coffin dug up.

No. We can't do that.

Why not?
We can get permission to have

the body exhumed.
It's done all the time.

It's not done all the time.
It's hardly ever done.

I don't want
that coffin dug up,
do you hear me?

Well, if we don't,
how are we
gonna get the money?

What good is money if...
If you have to do
something like that?

I mean,
it would give me nightmares
digging up a dead body.

I guess I'm superstitious.

I'm sorry, baby.

But, you know,
I've always had a horror of

death and dead people
and things like that.

You know I've never
been to the cemetery
in my life.

Even when it was
somebody I knew being

buried, I couldn't
bring myself to go.

We just can't do it, Judy.

Not even for $133,000?

No. Not even for a million.

It's funny.
You know that convention
on Friday in Philadelphia?

I was going in to old Kirby
and tell him to
send another boy.

When he blew his top
I was going to light my cigar

with a 10-dollar bill
and quit on the spot.

Well, I'll send you a postcard
from Philadelphia.

Hello. Shady Rest Cemetery?

May I speak to your
superintendent, please?

This is Mrs. Steven Archer.

I'd like to know
how I'd go about

getting my
husband's body dug up.

No, no, no, not Archer.
His name was Mead.

Oh, I see.

Would you be so
kind as to send me
one of those forms?

All right.
Thank you very much.

All right, Mrs. Archer.
It will take
just a few moments

I ought to be sure that
these things are in order.

Now, if you'll just sign here,
I'll tell the men
to start digging.

You going to attend
to the business yourself?

Well, I guess I'll have to.

That's not a very
nice job, Mrs. Archer.

You should've had your husband
take care of it.

Well, you see, he would have,
but he's in
Philadelphia on business.

I'd be glad to
volunteer my services,
Mrs. Archer.

Oh,
are you one of the diggers?

In my own way,
I suppose, yes.

This is Mr. Wescott.
He's from the...

From The Daily Bulletin.

Oh, are you a reporter?

That's right.

I've been assigned
to do a human interest

story on your
winning the sweepstakes.

I'll tell the men
to start digging.

Well, how did you know
I was going to be here?

Oh, I was checking
some facts for my story

and I heard about
the exhumation order.

Thought you might
need some help.

Would you like me
to handle it for you,
Mrs. Archer?

Very nice.

I believe I know
what to look for.

You do? What?

It's pretty
obvious the ticket was
buried with your husband.

(CHUCKLES)

It can be rather
a disagreeable job,
Mrs. Archer.

Why don't you just
sit down here and wait?

If the ticket's there,
I'll get it and
bring it to you.

Oh, thank you very much.
You're very sweet.

It's just part of my job.

Have they found...

They are just
opening the box now,
Mrs. Archer.

Your friend, the reporter,
will be along in any moment.

Mrs. Archer,
what did your husband die of?

My husband... Oh, Harry.
Well,
he had a case of indigestion

I see. Oh,
here comes Mr. Wescott now.

Would you happen
to have a little...

I've had exhumations before.
Help yourself.

Mr. Wescott,
I hate to bother you, but...
Thank you. Yes.

Did you find...

In the inside breast pocket.
I almost missed it.

Hurry up, Steven,
I've got a surprise for you.

You'll never guess.
Now, close your eyes.

No surprises.
I'm not up to it.

I should have refused to
go to that convention.

Well, I'm glad you did.

The ticket?
You really found it?

133,000 dollars' worth!

(CHUCKLING)

133 grand. Oh, man.
Baby, you're wonderful!

The first thing
I'm going to do is

go right into
the old man's office
and tell him off.

Yeah?
Where was it?

Right where you said.
In the right
hand breast pocket.

Not in the coffin?
You didn't have it dug up?

Of course I did.

You fool!
I told you not to do it.

Who was there?
Somebody must've helped

you. Was there
anybody snooping around?

Why are you getting
so excited about for, darling?
It's all right.

I got a court order
and the cemetery
people did the rest.

I got the ticket,
and they put the coffin
back right where it was.

It didn't hurt anything.
Now we'll have all that money.

Yeah, we'll have
enough dough to travel if...
If we want to.

You're sure there
wasn't any trouble?
Nobody snooping around?

Darling, who's going
to be snooping around

in a cemetery at
10:00 at night?

Okay.

I'm sorry I got excited.
You were right all along.

Now we'll collect that money
and start living.

But not like the last time.

What do you mean by that?

Well, no investments.

We'll buy a house and a car
and things like that.

And the rest of the money goes
in the bank at 3%.

Well, aren't you
the practical little manager?

Next thing you'll be
buying yourself a new husband.

I'm serious.
I love you, Steven,
but when it comes to money

Betting horses, investments...
You always lose.
For anything else...

Oh, I see.

You'll dole it out
a little at a time.

"Darling, may I have $5
for pocket money?"

Steven!

I don't think I'm
going to like that.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

Oh, hello, Mr. Wescott.

Good evening, Mrs. Archer.

Is your husband at home?

No, he's not.
And I'm not sure
when he'll be back.

It was really you I wanted to
talk to anyway. May I?

Oh, sure. Come right in.

Thank you.

I need a little more
information for my story,

and I wondered do
you mind if I asked you
a couple more questions?

No, not at all.
If you don't mind asking me

in the dining room,
I'm just finishing dinner.

All right.
Would you like some coffee?

No. No, thank you.

Here, you sit right there.

Mrs. Archer, I think
it's only fair to tell you
I lied to you the other night.

I'm not a newspaper reporter.
I'm an insurance investigator.

And I was at
the cemetery because I was

curious about
the way Harry Mead died.

He died of a heart attack,
I told you that.

Uh-huh.

Just one month
after my company had
insured him for $25,000.

Of course, these things do
happen from time to time.
We expect them.

Even when
the insurance salesman
who wrote up the policy

got married to you
a few months later,

that didn't bother
us too much, either.

If I were a little
younger myself...

(CHUCKLES)

(CLEARS THROAT)

I guess there's
nothing much there, either.

(CLEARS THROAT)

But then when Archer quit
his job with the company

right after the wedding,
that did seem
a little strange.

Well, why should it?
He didn't like
selling insurance,

and he had
an offer of a better job.

But he was a very
good insurance man,

Mrs. Archer.
He had a great future.

So about then I began to
get curious,
you know, a little uneasy.

So I went all through
the Harry Mead file again,

still couldn't find
anything wrong.

What were you looking for?

Evidence your first
husband might have

been murdered.
By Steven Archer, of course.

Well, Mr.
Wescott, you can stop looking

right now,
because that isn't true.

Well, I don't know about that.
You see,
we had an autopsy performed.

How dare you!

We were going to ask you
about having the body exhumed,

and then by
fortunate coincidence,

you went ahead and
did it on your own.

Well, I had good reasons.

It turns out we
have good reasons, too,
Mrs. Archer.

Your husband didn't
die of indigestion
and heart attack.

He was poisoned.

I don't believe you.

I have the autopsy report
right here to prove it.

I don't care, Mr. Wescott.

You're wrong.
I know you're wrong.

Mrs. Archer,

now think back.

The night it happened,
Archer was invited here
for dinner, wasn't he?

And being a proper guest
he brought along a bottle.
A liqueur, wasn't it?

The flavor would disguise
the bitter
taste of the poison.

Even so, how do you know
that Steven killed Harry?
I could have done it.

Yes, I considered
that possibility, too.

But tell me this,
why did you go to the

cemetery for
the exhumation and not Archer?

It's not a very
pleasant job for a woman,

certainly not if you
had a guilty conscience.

Was Archer in favor
of the grave being opened?

No.

Why are you
telling me all this,
Mr. Wescott?

You know I'm
going right straight
to Steven and tell him.

That could be quite dangerous,
Mrs. Archer.

He killed Harry
Mead for $25,000.

With that sweepstakes ticket,
you'd be worth over 100,000.

Well, Mr. Wescott,
you'll never make
me believe that.

Steven loves me,
and he wouldn't
think of doing anything to...

Why, just the other day
he saved my life.

Yes, what happened?

Well, I was taking a bath
and he bumped into
the electric heater

and it almost fell
into the tub with me.

Now,
that could have killed me,
couldn't it?

Just like the electric chair.

Yeah, that's right.

Well, he grabbed it
right at the last second.

And he burned
his hand terribly.

So, that proves you wrong.

Tell me, Mrs. Archer,
did this happen before

the winners were
announced or after?

Well, it was...

I thought so.

Where is he now, Mrs. Archer?

I don't know.
We had a little quarrel
over the money.

And he took
the ticket with him.

Well,
I'll not worry about that.

He can't collect on it
without your signature,

unless...

Unless I'm dead?

(DOOR OPENING)

STEVEN: Judy?

(SNIFFLING)

Judy.

I'm sorry we quarreled.
I had no right to

take that attitude.
It's your money.

It's ours.
I just wanted to
be careful of it.

I don't blame you.
Look, let's forget it, okay?

Why don't we go out for dinner
and a couple of drinks?
We should be celebrating.

All righty.

20 minutes.

You should have the heater on.
You'll catch cold.

Let me warm up
the room for you
before you get out.

Be careful, Steve.

Oh, I will.

If it hadn't been
for that accident,

I might not have
thought of this.

(JUDY SCREAMING)

(DOORBELL RINGING)

(DOORBELL RINGING)

Mr. Archer...

My wife's had an accident.
Call for an ambulance.

Wait a minute,
what happened?

Well, I just found her
in the bathtub.

The heater seems to have
fallen into the water.

I think she's
electrocuted herself.

You're under
arrest for murder.

What? Who are you?

Insurance investigator.
Sergeant.

Are you crazy?
I didn't kill her.

I just got in
from Philadelphia.

Take him downtown.

Look, if somebody
would only call

for an ambulance for my wife,
maybe it isn't too late.

Get him out of here.

Steven Archer.

Thank heavens
you're all right, Judy.

These fools were trying
to say I murdered you.

Well, you tried to.

Don't be silly.
Get these things off.

You threw that
electric heater into the tub
and tried to electrocute me.

It was an accident,
it slipped out of my hand.

If Mr. Wescott
hadn't pulled the fuse
before he left, I'd be dead.

How are you going
to prove anything?
It's my word against hers.

That'll never hold up.

I got an autopsy
report on Harry Mead today.

Mrs. Archer, would you
like me to get
a doctor for you?

You've had a bad shock,
you know.

Maybe you'd
better call someone to

come stay with
you for a while.

No, I'm all right.

What's gonna happen to Steven?

Well, with one
murder and one attempted

murder, I don't think
there's much question.

You mean he'll be...

The punishment fits the crime.
He tried to electrocute you.

Oh, no.

Wait!

Wait!

Just a minute!

Stop! Stop.

(CHUCKLES)

How do you like that.
Five minutes ago he
tried to kill her.

Thank goodness I remembered.

I don't want to
go through that again.

You can see how
effective the lamp is.

It looks as though I
should turn off the lamp.

I shall do so
following the following.

I'd better be off
in case the lamp
does something to me.

I'll be back next
week with another story.
Until then, good night.