All language subtitles for MrSWr1115

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Hollywood, where your friends

stab you in the chest.

Hank and me got personal

financial obligations, serious ones.

I know about some criminal activity.

Every film nut in the world is practically drooling

to finally get a look at Cry of Destiny.

They're calling your picture a money pit.

If that's a motive for murder,

there'd be no one left alive in Hollywood.

Fritz! Let go of me!

No way anybody can get their hands on Cry of Destiny.

Welcome to the dumbbell hall of fame.

I was wondering if this outfit's gonna be okay for tonight.

I didn't kill him!

I have no more time for your fantasies.

I got a feeling this could be my chance

for a comeback.

I get a distinct feeling

of déja vu.

Ha ha!

An accidental overdose?

Carson?

Listen, Hank, I'm not stalling.

It's just that the producers keep potchkeying with it.

Cutting, re-cutting.

Well, there isn't a completed print

of Cry of Destiny available.

We're sitting on an order for 27,000 videocassettes,

up 6,000 from yesterday, and climbing.

Cash on the line, you know?

They're getting antsy.

Plus, I got a lab blocking time for us out of my pocket.

This is Hank Duncan.

I want a pass for 9 a.m. tomorrow.

Main gate. For Miss Barbie Lippin.

To see Ron Seymour in casting.

Fringe benefits?

Look, Carson,

these people don't care if they don't get

the exact release version, you know.

Every film nut in the world is practically drooling

to finally get a look at Cry of Destiny.

We borrow the negative overnight

and make our own copy. That's all we need.

I don't know, guys.

This past year, security's gotten really tight.

I can't do this anymore.

Mr. Robbins.

Let me explain something, okay?

I can understand how a guy in your position,

you may not understand the concept,

but Hank and me, we've got personal

financial obligations, serious ones.

Real people ones.

All right. I'll do what I can.

Hey. This stage hasn't worked in a month.

How come I smell coffee?

It's got to be there, Scotty.

Mr. Duncan promised me he'd call it in.

Oh, yeah. Here we go, Miss Lippin.

Here. Make a left and follow the green arrow.

You'll see a sign up ahead.

Thanks, Scotty.

Morning, Scotty.

Wasn't that Hank Duncan's squeeze?

I wouldn't know, Mr. Randall.

It looks to me like office service executives

have a lot more clout than they used to.

From Mr. Robbins himself. He needs to meet with you

in his office the minute you get here.

You didn't see me, Scotty.

There's no way that I would miss your screening, Boyce.

I don't have to be in San Diego until Monday,

and it is the final effort

of one of the world's greatest directors.

I sure hope it lives up to your expectations,

along with everyone else's.

Anyway, that brings me to your new book,

which you were generous enough to give us first look at.

Well, my agent says that if you show any interest,

she guarantees to be anything but generous.

Jess, I'm embarrassed to admit it,

but I still haven't had a chance to read it.

Well, given all the distractions that you've been having

with Cry of Destiny, I'm not surprised.

Listen, I read that your daughter

discovered the unfinished footage

right here in the film vault?

Yes, she did.

And Elaine was so intrigued

with the film she found,

she hunted down everything she could on Austin Young,

including the great man's assistant director.

She kept bugging me until I finally said,

"Okay. Go ahead, complete the film!"

The assistant-- That was Fritz Randall, right?

Yes, I understand he's writing a book on Austin Young.

Yeah, the self-appointed expert

on the great man's life and death.

Yes. I remember that there were some unanswered questions.

An accidental overdose, according to the LAPD.

You know how the press blows something like that out of shape.

But, you know, it's ironic.

Austin Young was a big-budget director all of his life,

then he turns around

and shoots three-quarters of Cry on a shoestring.

Dies suddenly...

and 35 years later, Monolith Pictures

spends $30 million to finish it.

Oh, try 40--

Excuse me.

Boyce here.

No, no, David. There'll be no more video pirating.

I've implemented some new safeguards.

The police assure me they're working on it.

Yeah, well, I wish you and the board

had seen fit to fly out to see it.

Cry of Destiny is magnificent.

Yeah, well, the same to you, David.

New York's way of showing they care.

No, I don't understand. Scene 57

is the one Austin and I were gonna shoot--

I know, when he died. Fritz, face it.

The boy genius wrote a really lousy, undoable scene

in an otherwise brilliant movie,

and we're gonna live without it.

That's a really outrageous thing to say.

Well, try this.

I'm not asking my father

for another penny, capisce?

Come on! We got this far.

What do you say we do it right?

Carson? What in hell do you think you're doing?

The sound of creative differences wafting down the hall.

Carson, you're not taking that film!

Wrong, Fritz. Our European distributor

needs a dupe in his hands by tomorrow morning.

I'll only need this for a few hours.

Carson, you saw my father's memo.

We are not to let this picture out of our sight.

She's right. We'll be lucky to have it ready

in time for the damn screening.

If this man does not have a copy

to show his exhibitors--

No.

Carson, out of here!

Now!

- Or I call security! Get out! - All right.

Okay. Now, back to topic "A".

I just cannot believe that you're gonna cop out

after all that we've been through.

Excuse me. "We"? No.

You would still be peddling Austin Young memorabilia out of your home

if I hadn't risked my relationship with my father

so that "we" could make things happen.

Now, Fritz, we'll just do a voiceover so we can clarify the--

Austin hated voiceovers. I hate them!

- Elaine! You are going to do this! - Fritz. Let go of me!

- No, I'm not going to. Not till-- - Let go--

She said, "Let go."

Darryl.

Take a hike, pal.

Okay.

Thanks.

You're welcome.

Um...

I thought you had already

wrapped your picture.

Um, oh...

they needed me to loop a couple of lines.

Oh.

Darryl, do you have another name besides Harding?

What do you mean?

Well, I was trying to call you

to invite you to our screening,

but you're not in the book,

and Screen Actors Guild has never heard of you.

Well, they probably made a mistake.

My phone's not in yet, and I just moved.

Oh. Heh. Well, for now,

let me give you my extension number.

Darryl?

Spare ribs look good.

Oh, they sure do, but I'm trying to quit.

You ought to be wearing your badge, fella.

Huh? Oh! Ha!

I think I left it on my jacket.

I'm working set construction.

Stage 25.

25?

Getting back to your book, Jess,

to add insult to embarrassment,

my secretary seems to have mislaid it.

Any chance of sending me another copy?

Oh, you're in luck, Boyce. I just happen to have

a few dozen copies in my hotel suite.

Sorry to bother you two. Boyce...

legal just now told me about the problem.

Now, this is only a rough draft,

but it'll put a positive spin on it

for tomorrow's trades.

Slow down, Carson. What problem?

You haven't heard? There's a woman

calling herself Audrey Young.

She claims she was adopted by Austin Young

a year before he died.

She says that she's the real owner

of Cry of Destiny. She's got a lawyer.

You still don't get it, Mr. Brown.

I am willing to offer you a piece of my pie.

If the price is right.

Her father's will, the adoption papers,

and the contract he signed to star in and direct

Cry of Destiny for this studio in 1960.

As you'll see, except for the house in Hollywood

and the car, which he left to Fritz Randall,

everything else was bequeathed to me.

Now, wait a minute. That can't possibly include

a movie that this studio hired him to make.

My father was Austin Young, Mr. Brown,

not some wet-behind-the-ears film school graduate

that you people can take advantage of.

If you'll note paragraph three,

subparagraph "S" of the contract,

it stipulates that, should Monolith fail

to release the film within five years,

whether or not it is completed,

Austin Young or his heirs and assigns

become sole owner of the property.

Well, I'll need a few days

for our attorneys to look this over.

In the meantime, I'd like to extend

an invitation to both of you

to attend the screening tomorrow evening.

Oh, that wasn't quite the scenario I had in mind.

A court order barring any exhibition of the film

without Miss Young's written consent.

Well, no. I don't have an agent yet,

but my boyfriend is a really big deal here at the studio.

Oh.

Hank Duncan?

He's in charge of office services.

I guess you've been at this for a while, huh?

Have you ever heard of the name wee Joan Kemp?

Gee! No.

Forty years ago, I was a child star.

Made a million dollars before I was 12.

Go figure, my family drank most of it and stole the rest.

Wow. Bummer.

That's Hollywood. You can't let it get you.

And now they're finally releasing Cry of Destiny.

I got a feeling this could be my chance for a comeback.

Excuse me.

- Hi. - Hey.

You, uh-- you got butterflies?

Kind of.

I sort of thought you'd be here a little earlier.

Yeah. I'm sorry. I got tied up.

What, with this big deal you can't talk about?

Hank, you're the one who said

that if we're gonna have a relationship,

we can't keep any secrets from each other.

I know, I know. Look--

I'm sorry, I got to split.

Tell me all about the audition later on, okay?

Hank! Hank.

Remember you said to let you know

if I see anybody funny hanging around Stage 25?

Yeah.

A guy I ran into in the commissary.

Young, Kevin Costner type, no ID.

He said he's working on a set over there.

There's no construction on 25.

- You get a name? - Nope.

Well, get one and call me.

Got it.

David, will you listen to me?

I will not let this kill us.

Now, assuming Miss Young is real,

she'll want to profit from this as much as we do.

David--

David, I've got to go!

Elaine, the answer is no. N-o.

Daddy, I'm only talking a few thousand dollars.

Just an extra hour on the dubbing stage.

Fritz wants to re-shoot the entire scene, for God's sake.

Yeah. The world's greatest authority on Austin Young,

and he didn't know Austin had an adopted daughter?

Now, wait a minute. I don't like Fritz any more than you do,

but don't dump all over him

what your high-priced lawyers

should've uncovered at the get-go.

Come on, Daddy. Please?

You're right. I'm sorry, sweetheart.

Does that mean yes?

Go bring in your actors for the wild lines.

Hey, now, just make sure the picture's ready on time.

It will be. I knew you'd go along with it,

so I already had them come in.

You, young lady, are really impossible.

Where do you think I got that from?

Don't let them grind you down, Daddy.

You got it.

Uh, Boyce... let me guess.

Both Miss Young and the will

are the genuine article.

Well, 90% sure. Legal says

it'll take several weeks to nail the other ten per cent.

They're structuring a deal with her as we speak.

The good part is that we can go ahead

with the screening as we scheduled.

Carson, New York's giving me a lot of heat.

What's the status on your anti-piracy arrangement?

Oh, everything's in place.

No way anybody's gonna get their hands on Cry of Destiny.

What?

I was just thinking...

wouldn't it be lovely

if we could make Miss Young disappear for another 35 years?

Sorry, pal, there's no way

I can part with it for less than five grand.

I mean, this is primo. A 1956 one-sheet

in perfect condition?

Hey, can I help it if Austin Young prices

are going through the roof?

Deal.

Oh, and make that a certified check.

Yeah.

I wouldn't mind one of those for myself.

No problem. I'll have two of them printed up and aged.

All these photos you took of my father--

I never even knew they existed.

Believe me, these barely scratch the surface.

I hung onto them all these years

because I knew someday he'd be rediscovered.

When my book comes out,

it's gonna blow people away.

Especially with the new material you've been feeding me.

I just hope I can trust it.

And you.

Come on.

Do these look like the lips of a pathological liar?

As long as I can see your lips, I'm not worried.

It's when my back is turned.

Fritz, darling, this is Hollywood,

where your friends stab you in the chest.

- Ahh! - Ha ha ha!

Here it is.

Elaine Brown just shipped the negative

and the soundtrack to the studio's lab.

It'll be on the loading dock in exactly two hours

with the print for tonight's screening.

All right. I'll tell Manheim.

Hey, they're not gonna miss the negative.

You gotta distance me from this, Hank.

Okay?

So I'm not in the Guild.

I managed the initiation fee,

but I just couldn't pay my dues.

But I'm gonna make it as an actor someday.

Oh, I'm sure you will.

But, you know, maybe I can help you.

- I can talk to my father. - No! Elaine...

Look, Elaine, I really appreciate the offer,

but I need to do this on my own.

On my talent, okay?

Okay.

Do you mind telling me what that is?

Instant tomato soup.

I'm only budgeted for one meal--

Those two guys... I saw them the other night.

They were with another one.

The other night? Where?

On Stage 25.

Do you know who they are?

Oh, sure. Um...

The younger one is in charge of office services.

His name is Hank Duncan.

And the more distinguished one is Carson Robbins,

my dad's number-two man. His best friend.

Hmm.

- What were they doing? - Uh, nothing.

Just, you know, hanging out.

Hey, that's the guy Scotty described.

I'd bet on it.

With Boyce's daughter? Come on, Hank.

I don't care if he's with Princess Di. It's him.

May I join you?

- Boyce! - Hiya, Charlie!

I'm sure this isn't at the top of your list,

but here's a copy of my book that I promised.

Oh, thanks, Jess.

I'll get into this tonight right after the screening.

Then, uh, this Audrey Young,

you've come to some agreement with her?

If you can call turning everything you own

over to a woman holding a gun to your head

as coming to an agreement, yes.

New York is not gonna be thrilled,

especially coming on top of our security problems.

Oh, you mean, the videotape piracy?

Yeah. It's cost the studio tens of millions.

Between that and the flak over Cry,

and not having a hit picture the last year,

this entire Megillah is getting very old.

You know...

I've actually been asking myself

if it's all worth the struggle.

What is it?

I was thinking of some advice

that you gave me years ago

when I was wondering if I might try my hand at writing.

You said, "People who don't take risks

protect themselves from the lows.

The trouble is, they can never experience the highs."

Yeah, I said--

Yes. Oh, hello, David.

No. No. No. David, I'm well aware

it's not the best deal we ever made, but--

You what?

They're pulling the plug?

No, Dad, you can't let them do that!

Honey, they're calling your picture a money pit. They've got a point.

Forty million of them, as a matter of fact.

But, my God, the heat that this picture's generating,

plus all the advance bookings.

I reminded him! I'm afraid it fell on deaf ears.

That's crazy. That's crazy.

Because they're gonna gross more from Cry

in two weeks than they have in an entire year

with those overblown chop-socky turkeys they force you to make.

Plus video cassette orders!

New York's not convinced we've choked off the pirating.

Frankly, neither am I.

If we let one bootleg master off this lot--

Oh! I'm afraid I'm not gonna be very far behind.

Dad, I cannot believe

that you're going to roll over and play dead

for those bean counters.

Hey, who said anything

about listening to New York?

We ignore them.

The screening goes off tonight as scheduled.

Hi, Hank.

I've been looking all over for you.

- What the hell is she doing here? - Back off.

Hey, babe. What do you need?

I was just wondering if this outfit's gonna be okay for tonight.

Yeah, it's okay, you look gorgeous! Uh, but...

I need you to run along right now. Okay?

I'll pick you up at seven thirty, okay?

Sure.

You look great.

I'll take care of her, okay?

You just get that damn negative back here on time!

No, really. Jessica and I keep meeting over dead bodies.

What?

Lieutenant Caceras is with LAPD Homicide.

Oh, interesting line of work, huh?

It's not quite as interesting as being invited to--

Jessica, aren't those two British actors?

So... at the loading dock-- Did that have anything to do

with this big score you're gonna make?

No, no. But I'd just as soon you didn't talk about it.

Hank. Excuse me, I have to talk to you privately.

Um, sure. Hon...

Why don't you get me a refill?

Sure.

It's a piece of cake, Mr. Robbins.

We'll have our very own print by noon tomorrow.

And by tomorrow night, $750,000 to divvy up.

- I'm sorry! - Great.

- Ha Ha! Bubbles. - You got it.

Bubbles in Love. Bubbles Goes West.

To this day, when one of your movies

turns up on TV, I'm hooked.

Aww. I was in Austin's first picture on the lot,

and his last, as it turned out-- Cry of Destiny.

I'll never forget that day. I loved the guy.

I was home before the lunch break.

I had to hear about it from Fritz.

Things just sort of fell apart after that

for a lot of us.

- It was nice talking to you. - Thank you.

Cheer up, Boyce. It may not be the best deal you ever made,

but at least you didn't have to disappoint my father's fans.

Excuse me. Enjoy the picture.

I don't suppose you know me, Miss Young--

- Wee Joan Kemp? - Sorry.

Oh, I worked with your father.

You must be very proud of him.

He was a wonderful talent.

Yes. He was.

All the same, given the subject matter,

it's annoying that my advance was so small.

Well, I'm sure it's the penalty

for being a first-time writer.

I think your book sounds fascinating, Fritz.

The True Story of Austin Young's Life and Death. Catchy.

It's just a working title, of course,

but it's gonna be a lot more than a coffee table book.

Here, Mr. Brown!

I have one or two things to say

about how he died.

Ha ha! An accidental overdose?

Mm-mm. I never for a minute bought the official version.

Matter of fact, Jessica, as a mystery writer,

you might like to see some of the material I have.

- Oh, yes, I would, Fritz, very much. - Excellent.

Tomorrow morning, ten-ish, my place?

Boyce knows my address.

- Perfect. - Good.

Ladies and gentlemen, the screening is about to begin.

I don't suppose I have to remind you

to take along a grain or two of salt.

I was planning to take a shaker-full.

It won't be too long before we're overrun, Maria.

I want you to go with Esteban.

He'll see you safely to the railhead.

You'll be across the border by nightfall tomorrow.

- I want to stay with you. - No, darling.

If you were to die here, it would mean

that everything we believe in,

everything I've put my life on the line for,

would've been for nothing.

Some day, some way, Maria.

Oh, boy!

Well, they sure don't make them like that anymore, do they?

No, Gabe, they don't. And I don't think they could,

even if they had 35 years to finish them.

Right!

Fritz?

Is anybody here?

Fritz?

Fritz!

I can't tell you any more than that, Lieutenant..

I looked at Fritz toward the end of the screening,

about ten thirty, I guess.

He looked as right as rain then,

and that's the last I saw of him.

Okay. Well, thanks for coming by, Miss Young.

You're welcome.

So... Nobody saw him after the screening.

Randall takes in the show, ducks out the minute it's over,

and comes back here.

I don't know.

Gabe, I couldn't help but overhear

the medical examiner's preliminary finding

that Fritz had taken his own life.

Well, that's the way I'm writing it up.

Lethal dose of sleeping pills and wine.

Gabe, finishing that movie was Fritz's dream.

I mean, the screening was an enormous success.

The press, photographs.

He even had a book coming out.

I mean, how many people would walk away from that

and then kill themselves?

Hey, who knows what goes on

in the heads of these Hollywood hoodoos?

Uh-oh.

I'm seeing that look, Jessica,

and I'm looking at a stack of verifiable homicides

back on my desk, so I'm really not anxious

to add Mr. Randall to the list.

Hmm. Randall's photos for his book.

Too bad he never got past page 86.

Though I have a hunch that payoff he told you about--

It's nothing more than Hollywood hype.

I don't know, Gabe.

I get a distinct feeling of déja vu.

- About what? - All this.

Austin Young's protegé,

an overdose of sleeping pills in wine.

Thirty-five years ago, Austin Young died of the same thing,

and the LAPD called it accidental then, too.

Ooh, we're talking major coincidence.

Or else Fritz Randall had quite a sense of irony.

Or his killer did.

Did your men happen to find the bottle of wine

that Fritz was drinking from?

Not yet. They're looking.

And those eyeglasses that he always wore?

I haven't seen them, either.

He could've lost them on the way home.

Joey? Would you please take Mrs. Fletcher

Where she wants to go?

- You got it, Lieutenant. - Thanks, Gabe.

I'll be with Boyce Brown if you need me.

Ha ha! 250,000?

You're gonna get $250,000?

Hey, Barb, for God's sake, keep it down.

I'm sorry. I'm just so excited for you, for us.

Yeah, I don't know.

Why do I think I probably shouldn't have told you?

Hank, this--

This business you're into.

It isn't anything, um...

dishonest, is it?

You know, like, against the law?

Because this deal that's going down tonight,

it's all so mysterious,

- and I just thought that-- - Hey, Barbie...

Do I look like I need that kind of grief?

Oh. Good.

Hey. Hey, wait a minute.

What do you mean, "oh"?

Come on, I told you about the bucks. What do you mean?

Well...

just so you know,

There's a couple of guys at this lounge I sing at

over in Van Nuys--

They might be interested in working with you.

Come on. Why don't you tell me

some more about these guys?

- Carson? - Oh!

Jessica!

Fritz's glasses.

At his house, I just noticed they were missing.

Poor Fritz. A lot of good they'll do him now, huh?

You were at the house? I must have missed you.

However, I did happen to see the glass

that he took his last drink from.

It was the same as the glasses at the reception last night.

I remember seeing him bring his into the screening room.

Oh, what does that have to do with anything?

So far, they haven't found any wine bottles at the house.

So then he took his glass home with him.

Oh, and left his eyeglasses here?

Oh, I don't believe that for a minute.

It'll be in everyone's best interests if you just--

I mean, suppose he didn't realize

that he left them here because he was already dead.

- Jessica-- - Perhaps right here on this couch.

And somebody took his body and transferred it to the house

to make it appear that he had died there.

All right, I did it. I moved him. I moved him.

But this is not what you think.

Of course. It was Fritz

staggering up the aisle before the end of the screening,

and he was already drugged.

I didn't-- I didn't kill him.

Boyce will tell you--

That's right, Jessica.

Carson called me about midnight,

told me what had happened. I was furious!

Then I realized it was just a matter of good intentions

overcoming good sense.

I was just trying to protect Boyce and the studio

and the picture. I wasn't thinking too clearly.

You said you were watching the screening from the back.

Yeah. I was just trying to read the audience.

And I saw Fritz coming out.

He was weaving, he had his wine glass in his hand,

and he looked at it kind of puzzled and just keeled over.

Losing his eyeglasses.

I sniffed the glass, and then I knew

we were dealing with more than just grapes here.

So I put the glass in my pocket

and dragged Fritz's body out the side door to my car.

What?

Damn, if we could just get passed this mess!

Thanks to that screening last night,

The word on Cry of Destiny is fantastic.

New York's ecstatic, Elaine's got a future, and now this!

Boyce, I have to tell Lieutenant Caceras.

Excuse me.

- Boyce here. - Daddy?

Elaine?

- Daddy, I'm in jail. - You're where?

Daddy, they think I killed Fritz.

Sweetheart, don't you worry.

I'll have an attorney here before noon.

Lieutenant, could we--

You got a coupleof minutes, Mr. Brown.

So... go on, Mr. Robbins.

Well, I-- Please, Jessica.

I knew that Fritz kept a house key

in the azaleas out front.

I got his body inside, and that's the whole story.

Welcome to the dumbbell hall of fame, Mr. Robbins.

Dirty hands do not a murderer make,

but we'll need you as a material witness.

So, as they say in the flicks, "Don't leave town."

Well, I gotta admit, you were ahead of me, Jessica.

No wine bottle, no eyeglasses.

We found a couple of heavy-duty sleeping pills

under Randall's seat at the movie.

Elaine Brown must've missed his wine glass in the dark.

The point is, she got enough of them

into his glass to kill him.

But Elaine was not sitting next to Fritz.

According to the seating chart, she was.

No, she was with a young man-- Darryl Harding!

Sorry, but the guy's name is not on the invitation list,

- and nobody remembers him. - Gabe, I saw him.

Look, Miss Brown admits

that she and the victim were having--

What do those people call it?

Creative differences.

Is that your case?

Gabe, if that is a motive for murder,

there'd be no one left alive in Hollywood.

Besides, forensics will come up

with all the hard evidence we need.

Boyce?

I don't know what to say, Jess.

She's confused, lost, scared.

Well, I'll ride back with you.

I'll see you later, Gabe.

Hello, Arnold.

- Hi, Mrs. Fletcher. - Oh, Miss Kemp.

Too bad about Fritz Randall.

I just heard about Elaine Brown.

The whole lot's buzzing. Imagine.

But you know what they say... Life goes on.

I just got four scenes next week

in the new Todd Paris picture.

Oh, well, good luck.

It'll be just like coming home.

Home.

Darryl?

Darryl?

Elaine is in a lot worse trouble than you'll be

if you reveal yourself and help her.

I--

I wish that were true, Mrs. Fletcher.

I like your digs.

How long have you been living here?

Oh, a couple of months.

I lost my day job.

Had to give up my apartment in town.

The next day, I got on the lot for a casting call.

Found this.

I know it's not exactly the Beverly Hills hotel, but...

The view's pretty good.

What is it that you're so frightened of, Darryl?

I know about some criminal activity here at the studio.

It's pretty serious.

The negative's back in the vault.

Her again?

Hey, relax, Manheim. She's working for me.

You think I'd have brought her if she wasn't okay?

$250,000 against 750 in a week,

and perhaps a great deal more.

- The buzz on this picture's unbelievable. - What'd I tell you?

Orders for videocassettes are pouring in.

China, the Middle East, Europe.

I've never seen anything like it.

Me, neither. Listen...

My people need to get the names of your people so that--

Police! Freeze!

I wouldn't, lady.

Sergeant Barbara Warshaw, LAPD Industrial Theft.

Sorry.

Yeah. You're sorry.

Another minute, and I'd have had the names

of their overseas contacts.

Sorry, pumpkin.

No dice, Jessica.

No. Darryl Harding's statement is obviously prejudiced

by his feelings for Miss Brown. I've still got to hold her.

Lieutenant, telephone!

Surely Hank Duncan or Carson Robbins had more motive

to kill Fritz than Elaine.

Caceras here.

Yes, sir. Be right there.

The Commissioner's got a flea under his collar.

I can just guess what that's about.

They've admitted that Fritz was getting wind of the piracy.

Either one of them could've dropped those pills

into his drink at the reception.

No, no good, Jessica. The coroner indicates

the dose killed him within ten minutes.

Now, we both saw him walking up the aisle

just before the picture was over.

Give it a rest, Jessica.

I've got to see the Commissioner.

- Miss Young. - Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, the law finally caught up with me.

I'm sorry. I don't--

They wouldn't renew my driver's license

till I paid a bunch of old parking tickets, so I did.

Now they claim I paid for all but one.

Hmm.

All but one.

Darryl? It's Jessica.

I hope your car is in running order.

Oh, Mr. Brown, I just wanted to thank you so much!

I'm sorry, but I--

I'm Joan Kemp.

The other night? At the screening?

I know you were as busy as all get out,

being your daughter's picture and everything--

Of course! Wee Joan.

I'm sorry not to remember you.

Well, 35 years do take their toll,

don't they just?

And God knows you have enough to think about,

running a whole studio,

and now this Fritz Randall thing.

But I just wanted to say, thank you again.

For the bit in the Todd Paris picture?

Oh, well, don't thank me. You must've given a very good reading.

Good luck.

Thank you. Oh, Mr. Brown,

I do think you're just being a little bit coy.

Miss Kemp, good luck on your picture.

Oh, same old Boyce.

I'm sorry, back in the old days,

everybody used to call you Boyce.

You were still running then, too.

Just what are you talking about?

Oh, back when you were assistant producer to Austin Young.

I was never an assistant producer to Austin Young.

You must have me mixed up with somebody else.

Oh, Mr. Brown, I never forget a face.

I was never even on this lot until ten years ago.

I have no more time for any of your fantasies, Miss Kemp.

I was afraid of that. The print's gone too.

I'm not sure I even understand the significance.

Oh, I'm not sure that I do, either.

The print that corresponds to the number 19 negative

on this sheet is missing.

Why would they both be missing

unless the killer didn't want us to see them?

Could this have anything to do with it?

Well, it just may.

Number 19.

The only thing, Jessica--

Why would Fritz choose to blow up

this one particular photo?

I have a feeling it's because he discovered

that it's the key to Austin Young's death.

Oh, their answering machine. They must be closed.

- I'll get it. - Okay.

Clark's photo delivery.

Oh, yes. Please, come in.

I have a delivery for Fritz Randall.

Oh, yes. I can take it.

I'm sorry. It says that he needs to sign for it.

Fritz, I'm afraid we need your signature.

Of course. Let's see.

- Okay. Thank you. - Thank you.

Jackpot, Jessica! It's print number 19.

Of course. The scene they were going to shoot.

You mean there-- The assistant's preparing the slate

for the next set-up. Fifty-seven, take one.

Exactly. The first set-up after the lunch break.

Only Austin Young died before it was ever shot.

I was right, Darryl. It's this blow-up

that motivated Fritz's murder.

And I think I know who the culprit is.

Come on, we've got a lot to do

if we're gonna get Elaine home for dinner.

Jessica?

Over here, Boyce.

Scotty told me I'd find you over here.

Uh, got any plans for dinner?

I do now.

By the way, I was able to get Elaine

the best criminal attorney in Los Angeles.

Elaine won't be needing an attorney, Boyce.

- But, I-- - Shh.

And being that you worked with Austin Young,

I knew that these particular photos

would be of special interest to you.

Of course, it'll cost you, Miss Kemp.

How much are we talking about?

Oh, I'll let you steal it.

How's $20,000 cash?

Okay, you little creep. Twenty thousand.

My bank's open till 7:00. We can go there now.

Save your money, Miss Kemp,

you'll need it to pay your defense lawyer.

Defense?

Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Brown,

what's this all about?

As you well know, it's about that photo...

The one that you killed Fritz Randall for.

The one that proves you murdered Austin Young.

Mr. Brown, please, rescue me from this lady.

Sorry, Joan, I want to hear what Jessica has to say.

You came in a little late on the picture, Mrs. Fletcher,

about the third reel.

Austin Young was convinced

that Cry of Destiny was a disaster.

He was suicidal and despondent.

Besides, the police have had those stills for years.

Yes, but they never made the connection that Fritz did,

That you were not where you said you were

at the time of Austin Young's death.

I'll never forget that day. I loved the guy.

I was home before the lunch break.

I had to hear about it from Fritz.

Yet this enlarged section of the photo

clearly shows you coming out of Mr. Young's trailer

as the camera assistant was preparing the slate

for scene number 57.

According to the police report, Mr. Young collapsed and died

about ten minutes later, around 12:15,

after ingesting the same toxic substance

that killed Fritz Randall.

So, I-I stopped by his trailer for a few minutes.

It doesn't make me a killer.

But what made you think up a story like that, Joan, unless--

Unless she stayed on the lot

until she found the opportunity

to visit his trailer, Boyce,

when she thought that nobody would notice.

This is really off-the-wall.

I mean, there's no way you can make a case against me.

I'm sure the jury will feel differently, Joan,

especially when they learn that you were willing to pay Darryl here

$20,000 for that photograph.

And when they see this, Miss Kemp.

We got a warrant and searched your place,

and found this empty bottle of the pills in your trash.

I'm quite sure the residue will match

those in Fritz Randall's wine glass.

My worst mistake was thinking that Austin Young

could ever love me the way I loved him.

He thought of me as a child.

I couldn't bear to see the woman

I knew he was making love to.

He'd hold my hand...

kiss my cheek.

I wanted him to make love to me.

He said when I grew up, I would understand.

I still don't.

Every day at lunch,

I would pour him his glass of wine.

My very own ritual.

That day, I--

I said good-bye to everyone,

and I slipped inside his trailer.

And laced his wine with sleeping pills.

And for 35 years, you didn't realize

you'd been photographed leaving the murder scene.

Fritz kept threatening me with it.

He said he'd go tell the police,

that it would make his book a huge bestseller.

That no-talent sycophant.

He wasn't good enough to polish Austin Young's boots.

At the beginning of the screening, I noticed

there was an empty seat next to Fritz,

so I grabbed it.

I dropped a handful of pills into his glass,

hoping they would dissolve.

I guess they did because by the last reel,

Fritz was telling me he wasn't feeling so good.

He got up out of his seat and staggered up the aisle.

Officer Russell, take her in.

Frankly, David, with what you put her through on Cry of Destiny,

she may not be interested.

Of course, but, uh...

I can't make any promises.

Later, David.

What? Dad, I can't stand it.

Come on, Boyce, What did he say?

Three-picture deal with you as executive producer.

Hey, hey, hey! All right!

Oh, Dad, that is fantastic!

Whoops, I forgot the time. My plane leaves at three o'clock.

I'll just go warm up the old heap, Jessica.

Oh, Jess, I know this may sound like a broken record,

but with all that's been happening--

I know. You never got a chance to read my book.

Well, I kind of figured that might be the case,

so I took the liberty of letting Elaine see it.

I read it last night. It's great.

The only change I would make is moving it

from Northern California to the French Riviera.

Hold it, young lady.

You've just upped the budget by several million dollars.

Now, Dad, I would hope that you would read the book

before you make a judgment like that.

I don't have to, I know.

And don't forget, I've been down that road before.