All language subtitles for MrSWr1207

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

The stolen Degas.

I happen to know you’ve done your share of forgeries.

Even on the black market it can bring upwards of four million.

I’d have to be crazy to bid on something that hot.

- Sold to Mrs. Fletcher. - $400,0000.

People have to see your work before they’ll spend their money.

- Where is the Degas? - Really don’t know where the picture is.

Still keeping bad company, Jessica.

I don’t think I can trust you, Charlie.

Where did you find this idiot Garrett anyway?

- I’ll kill him! - Hey, look, pal, don’t crowd me, huh?

And in local news,

an Edgar Degas masterpiece, The Dancing Class,

valued at between 15 and 20 million dollars

was stolen this evening

from the Brinfield Collection on Fifth Avenue.

According to a police spokesperson,

it was the work of professional thieves,

but thus far, they have no leads.

And now back to, Music Through the Night.

Wow. The stolen Degas.

The Dancing Class? This is... wow.

You know, I had no idea you were talking about this. This...

look, this could be a problem here.

Let me show you.

This old canvas stretcher, it could be a dead giveaway.

Listen, friend, I don’t have time for games.

I happen to know you’ve done your share of forgeries,

and I’ve got it on very good authority

that you don’t have a pot to soak your brushes in.

Now where’s the sample?

Okay. Okay. This is pretty much what I had in mind.

Angus, it’s perfect. Thank you. I despise it.

Thanks.

I call it Arrangement in Grey and Red.

This version’s a lot smaller,

but I’ll paint something like it over the Degas.

You’re sure it can be removed without damaging the Degas?

- Yeah. Yeah. - Then do it, and don’t screw up.

Mr. Rundle, it took some doing to find you.

What’s with the new name?

Mezznou, I can explain.

- I look forward to it. - It’s not what you think.

Now, where is the Degas?

All right! All right!

Please, God, don’t hurt me.

The painting is over...

Is he?

- Yeah. - Damn.

My dear Mrs. Fletcher, I would love to help you,

but with all your demands for more and more authentication

of what is obviously a genuine Arthur Conan Doyle journal,

and with absolutely no guarantees

that the Museum of Cultural History

would actually go through with the purchase,

I felt I had no choice but to put it up for auction.

Mr. Wesker, I have a responsibility to the Museum,

and you know very well

why the additional documentation was necessary.

Oh, please. Not that tedious misunderstanding again.

- Misunderstanding? - Mrs. Fletcher,

I truly believed that the Thomas Nast etching

your committee bought from me was genuine.

If I hadn’t, I wouldn’t have sold it to them.

And as your assistant curator can attest,

I refunded the Museum’s money in full.

Did I not, Ms. Evers?

Uh, yeah, after our attorneys got into it.

Don’t remind me.

In any case, I’m certain the bidding won’t go far

beyond the $35,000 you were prepared to spend.

Plus the auction house commission,

which will put us way over our budget,

even if nobody bids against us.

And you will have had time to satisfy yourselves

that it was written by Conan Doyle.

The notations are his. His paper...

Mr. Wesker, I’d like to have one more look at the journal.

I’m sorry.

It’s already been delivered to the auction house.

I’m sure they will accommodate you.

Now, if you’ll excuse me.

Mr. Wesker, have you had a chance to look at

the portfolio I left with you? My boyfriend’s photos?

Oh, yes. I’ll get to it in a day or two.

Bye bye.

Felix, you couldn’t have lit my work a little better?

Angus, the answer is still no.

I need that money, Felix, now.

And I told you, not unless I know

what this business deal is all about.

You’ve managed to run through more than $50,000 in advances

- in less than 18 months. - I know.

And I’m not going to throw good money after bad.

Excuse me. Look, Felix, I need the money, all right,

so that I can buy my painting back

before it goes on the auction block.

- Arrangement in Grey and Red? - Mmm-hmm.

Angus, this is hardly your best work.

I know, but I have a certain sentimental attachment to it.

No. As your friend,

I’m simply not going to let you waste your money, or mine.

Mrs. Stephenson, you wanted to see

the Richard Pickering, didn’t you? The big one.

Charlie, I didn’t bring you all the way from Chicago

for you to ask a lot of questions.

I will tell you this much, though...

Leona, the Gunderson Brief, paragraph 2, subparagraph B,

should read, "whereas," not "hereas." You got that?

Thank you.

My client happens to be a well-known collector,

and the way the high-end art business works,

if he was to bid on that painting himself, the price would go clear off the charts.

Uh-huh. You mean like at the track,

when the guys bet the favorite and all the local yokels

- figure that somebody knows something? - In a manner of speaking.

Well, tell me, Milt, what is the something

that your client knows about this Arrangement in Grey and Red?

He wants to hang it on the wall and look at it, okay?

Okay.

There’s $100,000 in there for you to bid,

plus the auction gallery commission.

And a $2,000 fee for you, the easiest money you’ll ever make.

Look, when the waiter shows up,

just sign it on my account, okay?

Okay, but I’ve gotta tell you, the only auction I ever went to

was when they repossessed my Chevy.

Just watch the action; you’ll get the hang of it in no time, but whatever you do...

- do not, repeat-- - Do not bid one penny over 100,000 bucks.

I got it.

I’m sure Mrs. Lauterbond

will get over her disappointment.

Perhaps next time, she’ll give us her consignment

before we print our catalog.

Peter, would you please tell the caterers that if I see

another hors d’oeuvre with cheese sauce or mayonnaise, that they’re fired?

- Right. - Thanks.

Now look, Diana, we have got to watch our printing and promotion costs.

And our phone bills last month were outrageous.

Giles, I’m on top of it.

Ah, Ms. Evers, have you and Jessica

finished examining the Conan Doyle journal?

Oh, she’s still going over it, Mr. Havelock.

She said to tell you she’s got some questions.

Very well.

Milt, how many times do I have to tell you?

I cannot have the damn thing x-rayed

without raising questions.

Do you want me to play this again for you?

First, you have the canvas stretcher.

Degas was the only artist that secured his with tulipwood wedges.

And then there’s the age of the wood and the age of the canvas.

They haven’t manufactured that weave since 1902.

And the dimensions. Are you sure?

They’re identical to the millimeter.

Sweetie, there’s absolutely no risk.

Garrett bids on Arrangement in Grey and Red.

If we have any strong counter-bids,

well, we just know someone else knows the value.

And if it’s Interpol or the police

or one of the thieves...

So what? Garrett is left holding the bag,

we deny everything.

Look, my guess is the only other person who know the value is Angus,

and he can’t afford to reveal his complicity.

Honey, nobody is gonna outbid the $200,000 that you gave to Garrett.

- One hundred. - What? Are you joking?

That’s all I could get my hands on.

Helen’s got my assets tied up like...

Great. Great, great.

All right, is this Garrett gonna make trouble for us?

Charlie Garrett can barely find his way across town.

Oh, God, Diana, you have no idea how badly I want this to work out,

for us to be together.

Yeah.

With a free-and-clear nest egg of four million dollars

that your wife can never touch.

"March 14, 1926."

"The vitality in the sea of faces I saw"

"yesterday at Ellis island,"

"this threshold, free at last"

"from famine, cossacks, religious oppression,"

"made me understand, finally,"

"the dream, the pull of the American experience."

Impressive.

There was clearly a great deal more to Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

than Sherlock Holmes.

Which most writers would kill to have created.

Oh, I don’t know, Giles.

I mean, the documentation of the handwriting,

the provenances, they... they all check out.

But somehow I just can’t shake my doubts that it’s genuine.

A healthy attitude.

Between my years in the business and my forebears

looking over my shoulder, lest I forget,

I’ve learned to mistrust the authenticity

of nearly anything I sell.

And frankly, with a gallery owner like Felix Wesker involved,

your reservations are doubly justified.

Thanks. That makes it so much easier for me

to spend the Museum’s money.

On the other hand,

I believe this’ll be the third or fourth time

we’ve sold the piece, and yet the price is still very reasonable.

Meaning that there wouldn’t be much profit

in going to all the trouble of forging it.

Precisely. It’s not as if we’re talking a fake Da Vinci.

At any rate, Jessica, let’s hope the only bumps tonight

will be from customers eagerly outbidding one another.

- Hope so. - After you.

It’s bad enough that you gave the gallery my pictures

without even asking, but to Felix Wesker!

I mean, the guy has raised schlock-hyping to an art form all its own.

Peter, wait a second.

First off, he’s someone we do business with at the museum.

And secondly, you don’t realize how talented you are.

No! No! No!

The pictures are just plain not good enough yet,

and we are not gonna begin our lives together eating peanut butter and jelly.

Peter, people have to see your work before they’ll spend their money on it.

No, sweetheart, listen,

I have got to do things my way, my terms

when I feel that I am ready.

I just wanted to satisfy myself about something.

It’s dusty in here, isn’t it?

Well, it’s definitely a minor work.

Well, with Angus, it’s always hard to tell.

How fortunate you’re not paid to be an art critic.

Felix, is there something else you’d like to see?

No. No.

Oh! Incidentally, this Mrs. Rundle,

the woman who brought Angus’ painting to my gallery,

and is now putting it up for auction,

what do you know about her?

Not much. We’re selling a few items for her--

A couple of unimportant Louis Quinze chests,

a low-end Tiffany lamp.

Apparently, she’s liquidating her late husband’s estate.

Well, she’s obviously a woman of deep sentiment or shallow pockets.

Look, Mr. Lorenzo,

I can resell the item within a skinny minute, okay?

So, you know, I can pay you back within 10 days, Max.

No. No. It’s a painting, okay?

And I’ve got a buyer who’ll...

Mr. Lorenzo?

Damn.

Ah, Mr. Mezznou. Hey, come on in. Come on in.

You were smart to call me directly.

I can offer you a very attractive deal on one of my paintings,

and that way, you don’t have to pay Felix’s mark-up.

I misled you, Mr. Neville,

in order that you might talk about one of your earlier efforts,

the one to be sold at the Greylight Auction Galleries,

Arrangement in Grey and Red.

Hey, who... who the hell are you guys?

Mr. Neville, I assure you that Orlando and I

are not with any law enforcement agency.

However, I was wondering if you might have been

acquainted with the subject of this obituary.

Mr. Kenneth Rundle?

No. Why?

Mr. Neville, were you considering bidding on your own work?

Well, yeah, you know,

for old times’ sake, yeah.

Permit me to offer you an admonition.

If you bid on it or have anyone else do so on your behalf,

my friend here, Orlando, will very likely kill you,

and the other person or persons.

And that includes Mr. Rundle’s widow, Serena Rundle.

What do you say, pal? Come to these circuses often?

And what with the increasing popularity

of Angus Neville’s work, Mrs. Rundle,

I really believe that you’re going to be surprised

at the price this piece brings.

My, that would be lovely, now, wouldn’t it, Ms. Barrow?

My late husband and I agreed on almost everything,

except for his taste in art.

Because I recognized the canvas stretcher, that’s how I knew.

Honestly, Angus, you could’ve told me.

Look, I’m sorry, okay?

Felix, I never knew what became of the damn thing

till it showed up in your gallery.

The guy I painted it for, this Kenneth Rundle,

he never told me his real name.

Felix, Felix, you take 65, I’ll take 35.

Are you kidding?

I’d have to be crazy to bid on something that hot.

Come on.

Who else is gonna know about it except the late Mr. Rundle and me?

I mean, obviously his widow doesn’t have a clue there’s a Degas underneath.

Shh!

Did you see the insulting price she’s started at for my work?

Felix, even if the law is onto it,

don’t you think they would have made their move by now?

Ever occur to you, my friend,

the law may be waiting just to see who bids on it?

Okay. Then I’ll... I’ll claim it’s a forgery.

Of an Angus Neville?

Felix, even as stolen goods,

the damn thing’s gotta be worth what, four, five mil?

Case closed, period.

Okay, okay, okay.

How about instead of 65-35, how about 70-30?

I should have my head examined. 90-10.

Done.

Felix, maybe it’d be a good idea if, you know,

we didn’t talk to each other

until after you bought the painting.

So, I tried calling Reggie all afternoon to apologize,

but she wasn’t answering her phone.

Well, maybe she wasn’t there.

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher. Hello.

I presume you’re satisfied about the Conan Doyle journal?

No, but my own doubts notwithstanding,

the other members of the board seem to feel that

it’s too important an acquisition to pass up,

so they’ve authorized me to go ahead and bid on it.

- Wonderful. - Excuse me.

I’ve just got to get a few paintings out of the storeroom for the auction.

Uh... I always get the last three numbers screwed up.

Pete, Giles mentioned that the Conan Doyle journals

had been auctioned about three times

in the past three years.

Be interesting to talk to some of those previous owners.

Yeah, and find out why it changed hands so often.

Is there any way we could get their names?

Well, I’ll see what I can do. As soon as I finish with

- The rest of the auction lots. - Good.

I had very little knowledge

of my husband’s business activities, Mr. Mezznou,

but frankly, I don’t know what business it is of yours, anyway.

Madame, please. I meant no offense.

I was merely curious

where he might have acquired

Arrangement in Grey and Red.

Mezznou, what brings you to New York?

Investment, Mr. Havelock. Investment.

As I’m sure you’re aware of the growing demand

in the Middle East and in Europe for American Contemporary.

Indeed there is,

but apparently, Mrs. Rundle isn’t interested.

I apologize.

And I should warn you that, like so many people in this business,

that man is not an ethical character.

Oh, thank you. Even I could see that.

- Hi. - Oh, Reggie.

Oh! I gotta tell you...

- No, Pete, I was way off base. - No, no, no.

You had it nailed, I have been afraid of putting myself out there.

And that is all about to change, okay?

- Okay. - Okay.

Ladies and gentlemen, the auction is about to begin.

Please take your seats.

Look, the bidding is about to start...

- And I’ll see you out front. - Okay.

And I have $17,000. $17,000.

$17,500. $17,500.

20.20 on the phones.

Thank you, Diana. 20 on the phones. In the room.

So Greylight Auction Galleries sold the Conan Doyle journal

three times in the past four years?

And each time, the seller was Felix Wesker.

But look, the buyer was different each time.

Yeah. Mrs. Sarah Weiskopf.

Anthony Dimarco, Richard Rimsen.

And a "T" in front of each of their names.

- I wonder what that means. - I don’t know, Reggie,

but I wish there was time to get in touch with these people.

Number 435, which is the original manuscript

of Sir Arthur Conan Doyle’s New York journal,

- dated 1926. - Oh, that’s us.

And I can tell you, it’s a fascinating item.

- We’ll start the bidding at $20,000. - Charlie.

Jessica. What are you doing here?

Well, I’m bidding on something.

Well, I’m bidding on a painting. Hey, I could use your help.

Oh, well, not right now, Charlie. Later.

- Excuse me. - $25,000? $30,000?

Do I have $30,000?

Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.

In the room, I have $30,000. $30,000?

- $32,000. I have $32,000 there. - Can you see?

Is it Mr. Wesker running up the price?

33? $32,000. $32,000.

- I can’t tell. - I have 32,000. $32,000.

$33,000.33.

34.34.34 on my left.

- Here goes my limit. - Okay.

$35,000.35.35.

Last call. Fair warning then.

With you, $35,000.

Sold to Mrs. Fletcher.

And the next item is lot number 436,

Arrangement in Grey and Red.

American Contemporary, oil on canvas, by Angus Neville.

And I suggest we open this at $25,000.

25? 25.

25, 25, $27,000?

Thirty!

$30,000. I have $30,000 here. Thank you, Sir.

35.35. $40,000.

$40,000. $40,000.50.

- $70,000. - $70,000.

$70,000.70? 70? 70? 70? In the rooms.

Eighty.

80. $80,000. I have $80,000.

Thank you very much, Sir. 80? 80? 80?

Make it 100 grand.

$100,000. I have $100,000.

- That’s all she wrote. - $100,000? $100,000?

- 105. - 105.

$105,000. With you, Sir, 105.

105. Fair warning. It’s gonna be sold.

$105,000.105.

Does the bidder in the second row mean to bid $400,000?

Very well, fair warning then.

$400,000. Sold.

$400,000 to Mr. Charles Garrett.

Yeah, where did you find this idiot Garrett anyway?

I’ll kill him!

Look, is there any chance that you can get that money?

What? What, if you can’t come up with the other $300,000,

where the hell do you think I’m gonna find that kind of money?

I want this painting, Milt. Do you understand?

Look, I gotta go.

All in all, a successful evening.

Yes, it was.

With a few surprises.

You mean the Angus Neville painting?

I’ve just had calls from a pair of our regular customers

who were bidding on the Angus Neville.

Van Eyck in Amsterdam, Sinclair in London.

They both said you put them on hold and suddenly, they were disconnected.

They were very unhappy

until I told them the selling price.

They weren’t prepared to go that high.

I’m sorry, Giles.

Oh, I’m sure.

Curious, though.

The bidding for that item also seemed to have a profound effect

on Lawrence Mezznou, Felix Wesker.

Well, I wouldn’t know anything about that.

Mmm-hmm.

Well, the good news is, we can meet next month’s rent.

- Good night. - Good night.

I’m afraid your client is right.

You are liable for the entire amount.

- 400,000 bucks? - Yes.

And the gallery’s commission, plus legal fees, if any.

On top of that, he wants his money back, all of it.

How could I have been so dumb?

And his anonymous buyer can’t come up with it?

Or won’t. Either way, I’m definitely up the mall without a credit card.

Which reminds me,

this is a very expensive restaurant.

Don’t worry about that, Jessica. I’ve got that covered.

Excuse me.

Mr. Garrett, there’s a phone call for you

on the house phone near the restrooms.

- For me? - Yes, Sir.

Nobody knows I’m here.

The gentleman asked for Mr. Charles Garrett, dining with Mrs. Fletcher.

- You’re sure? - Yes, Sir.

Huh. Look, put this on Mr. Solomon’s account,

- And write in a nice tip for yourself. - Thank you.

Yeah. Hello?

Thank you for taking my call, Mr. Garrett.

Regrettably, either Angus Neville failed to convey to you

the sincerity of my warning not to bid on his painting,

or you chose to ignore it.

You talking about the painter? He never said anything.

Hey, look, pal, don’t crowd me, huh?

Mr. Mezznou.

I suggest that you both leave immediately, or I’ll call the police.

Oh!

Yes.

You know, Jessica, you seem

pretty well-connected in this art business.

You know anything about this Angus Neville,

the guy who painted Arrangement in Grey and Red?

No, but that fellow Mezznou’s companion,

the guy who hit you, he had a gun.

- You’re kidding. - Mmm-mmm.

Now, you knew that, Charlie.

Now, you and I both know

that there is something about that picture that isn’t quite right.

You know, it’s getting late, and I gotta run.

I got a very heavy day tomorrow trying to come up with all that scratch.

Look, Charlie, slow down.

And besides, you know, Mezznou and that Felix what’s-his-name...

- Wesker. - Yeah.

They had their faces fixed on buying that turkey,

and I took it away from them.

- They’ll get over it. - I’ll call you before I leave for Chicago.

Hey, look, if it’s about my painting...

No!

And naturally, the victim,

he had to have been at an art auction with maybe

100,000 people I’ve gotta talk to.

Anyway, thanks for coming over.

When I heard you were there, I figured that makes one less person

I’ve gotta track down.

Well, I expected you to be halfway to Niagara Falls.

Yeah. The call came in just as we were leaving.

Arlene’s flying up.

I’ll join her there in a couple of months if I’m lucky.

The officer at the door said that it looked like a burglary-homicide.

Well, at first glance, yeah.

Perpetrator cleaned out the victim’s wallet,

wristwatch, et cetera, cabinets rifled.

But there’s no sign of forced entry.

Now, the 911 call came in at 2:15 a.m.

a neighbor heard some thumping noises.

Preliminary indicates he was stabbed through the heart.

Now, this individual, you said,

bought the victim’s painting last night...

looks like maybe a painting was cut off this canvas stretcher, Sergeant.

It’s hard to tell if it was recent.

Hmm, that’s old wood.

And I found this on the floor. Looks like a phone number.

And I just heard from Downtown.

There was a theft last night at the Greylight Auction Galleries.

Only item stolen was a painting by the decedent.

Something called Arrangement in Grey and Red.

- About 1:45 a.m., they took it. - What?

Well, that’s the painting that Mr. Garrett bought.

Mac, check out that phone number

and this canvas stretcher against that stolen painting.

Okay.

Anyway, you happen to know this Garrett’s first name?

Charles.

Charles Garrett. I ran into a guy by that name once

on an extradition from Chicago.

Not the kind of bozo you’d ever have anything to do with.

Jessica, you’re kidding.

That Charles Garrett?

Pete, Jessica recognized the security code.

It’s just a matter of time until they find your fingerprints on that paper.

But how did it get into Angus Neville’s studio?

Well, thanks.

Here are the new photos. What do you think?

Oh! They’re great.

I’m going for it. I think everything will be okay.

But why all the sudden confidence?

I was wrong, and you were right.

We have to begin living our lives now, and the money will come.

Fantastic.

Now, about the previous owners of the Conan Doyle journal?

Jessica wanted to know if you were able to speak to any of them.

Oh, no luck.

The phone numbers in the computer,

two in Manhattan, one in Queens, are stale,

and there aren’t any current listings in any of the five borough phone books.

So it’s like they left town or disappeared.

Those printouts you showed us, were you able to find out

what the "T" next to any of those names meant?

Yeah, it means that they weren’t at the auction.

They just phoned in their bids.

Absolutely, Mrs. Foster.

Yes, I understand completely,

and I assure you, our security will be tighter than ever.

What? Oh, I can be there...

it’s 2:55. Yeah, I can be there in half an hour.

Yes, splendid. And goodbye.

That was yet another client I had to talk out of withdrawing her collection

from our next auction.

Oh, uh, here’s that list of unsolved art thefts you asked for.

I don’t suppose you care to give me a hint

as to how that mind of yours is working.

- Not just yet, Giles. Thank you. - Right.

How do we know that you didn’t kill Angus

and take the painting for yourself?

Darling, I understand how upset you are,

so I’ll discount the fact that you could even think such a thing.

Yeah, well, if you didn’t do it, then Garrett did.

And if the police get to him...

if the police get to him, then you’re gonna look

- an awful lot like an accomplice. - Along with you.

That’s where you’re wrong, Milt, darling.

Disappointed? You don’t understand, Mr. Wesker.

I’m... I’m... I’m crushed.

I loved Arrangement in Grey and Red.

- It spoke to me. - I’m sure.

Look, Garrett, I’m not about to discuss Angus or his painting.

I know nothing about this Mezznou fellow, and I have work to do,

- so if you’ll excuse me. - Wait a minute. Uh...

suppose I told you that I could lay my hands on

Arrangement in Grey and Red.

What’d it be worth to you?

Zero, friend. Bupkis.

Bupkis? You wanted it pretty badly last night.

Well, that was before people started getting murdered.

Besides, look around you at all these Angus Nevilles.

Now that he’s dead,

the price of his work is going to go through the roof.

Garrett, I don’t know what your agenda is, but...

I’ve been wondering about that myself,

and you’re about to satisfy my curiosity.

Wait a minute, don’t I know you? Sunger, bunger, uh...

- Unger. - Right.

Now, where was it? 63rd and Stony Island.

You were having trouble trying to arrest some poor schlub

who’d locked himself in the back of your car.

That’s enough, Garrett.

Come on, there’s a lot of questions you’re gonna have to answer.

Yeah? Like what?

Like how a guy with 247 bucks in his checking account

can afford to buy a painting for 400 large,

like where you were between 2:00 and 5:00 this morning,

and like how the hell a lady like Jessica Fletcher

ever got involved with you.

All right, let’s go.

There it is.

Now, this one died five years ago,

and that’s why you couldn’t locate them.

The last three people who owned the Conan Doyle journal

were all dead when they bought it.

Well, I don’t understand.

I think I’m beginning to.

Pete, look. Kenneth Rundle’s obituary.

Ah, the guy whose wife put Angus Neville’s painting up for auction.

Exactly.

You know, we may have stumbled onto something far more important

than my concerns over Mr. Doyle’s journal.

According to this,

Mr. Rundle was never married.

Mr. Dunning, you got a minute?

- Sergeant Unger. - Oh, yeah. Sure.

- Here, honey. - Huh?

Could you go get the car, please?

Yeah. Sure.

Is there something I can do for you, Sergeant?

Yeah, there is.

You can explain to me what you were doing

in Angus Neville’s studio last night.

Oh. Oh, the security code numbers.

- Bingo. - Ah.

- I was gonna call you. - Sure, you were.

No. Really, really. I’ve been tied up all day.

I have never been to Angus’ studio.

What do you do here

at the auction gallery, Mr. Dunning?

Yeah. Anything, everything. It’s just my day job.

My real career is photography. But listen, Sergeant...

Must be a tough row to hoe, huh?

Hanging around all those zillionaires,

schlepping million-dollar paintings

for what, 20 bucks an hour?

Ten.

Pete. You gave me the house key by mistake.

Oh.

- You nervous, Mr. Dunning? - No.

Don’t make any travel plans, okay?

Goodbye.

Bye.

Hey, it’s... it’s okay.

A murder, an old stretcher,

a new painting, a dead, unmarried art collector

whose nonexistent widow puts it up for sale,

a lot of people very interested in bidding on it.

And then, that report of unsolved art thefts

that Giles Havelock got for me.

Now, it’s called The Dancing Class.

The dimensions are identical to Arrangement in Grey and Red.

Hmm.

Stolen two years ago from the Brinfield collection right here in Manhattan.

Charlie, are you certain that you had no idea?

Well, I mean, of course I knew that there was something twisted.

I mean, after all, you got Milt Solomon, Mezznou, this Wesker fellow.

I mean, they all had to know. I was just the patsy.

Now, tell me about the painting, this dee-gas.

Degas.

Whatever. It’s worth a bundle, right?

Well, according to my friend at The Daily Chronicle,

even on the black market,

it can bring upwards of four million.

Four million?

That’s a lot of money.

Uh, Charlie, wait.

You don’t really intend to try trafficking in stolen goods

instead of doing the honorable thing.

Jessica, I mean, it’s hard to walk away from that kind of dough.

No. I am not going to look the other way

-while you chase after one more brass ring -But...

and very likely get yourself killed in the bargain.

Now, before we go to the police,

are you sure you’ve been truthful with me about everything?

- Absolutely. I... - That’s very reassuring, Mr. Garrett,

because I can assume that what you have told Felix Wesker is accurate--

That you do indeed

know the whereabouts of Arrangement in Grey and Red,

or if you prefer,

Edgar Degas’ The Dancing Class.

Now I submit that it will be unfortunate

for you, and Mrs. Fletcher,

if you do not share this information with me, right now.

Now wait a minute.

You think I did Angus Neville and stole the painting?

Huh! What are you, out of your mind?

I was scamming Felix Wesker.

I haven’t the foggiest idea where that painting is.

You are going to take us there, Mr. Garrett, now.

Charlie, at the risk of saying, "I told you so,"

do you see what playing fast and loose with the truth has finally got you into?

But, Jessica, I really don’t know where the picture is.

Mr. Mezznou, you don’t expect me to sit here while...

It was your choice, Madame,

and it probably’ll be the last one you’ll ever make.

How disgusting! I’ve never seen anything...

Waiter.

Mrs. Fletcher, what’s wrong?

There’s a creature in my soup.

Excuse me. Jessica, that was brilliant.

Now, where are we going? Not to the police, I hope, not for a while.

Charlie, that’s exactly where we’re going.

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Garrett.

You’ve got an awful lot of explaining to do.

I’m Special Agent Karla Nemeth, FBI.

Lady, you’ve got some explaining to do yourself.

Still keeping bad company, Jessica.

- Sergeant, we were on our way to see you. - Sure, you were.

Garrett, you’re under arrest for complicity

in the theft of a Degas painting,

not to mention very likely murdering Angus Neville.

And you, Jessica, if we weren’t friends,

you’d be looking at a possible charge of obstruction of justice.

- Oh. - Let’s go.

Kenneth Rundle was a known international art thief.

Our office recognized him from his obituary photograph.

- Ah, it’s the one you showed me. - Mmm.

We got a warrant to search Rundle’s apartment.

I took one look at the proportions of Arrangement in Grey and Red,

and guessed the truth, so we had it x-rayed.

And you found the Degas underneath.

- So Agent Nemeth... - Yeah, I’ll handle this, Sergeant.

I posed as Rundle’s wife,

and put it in Felix Wesker’s gallery for a few weeks

to see who we could smoke out.

When nobody bit, we decided to put it up for auction.

We heard that Rundle had double-crossed his partners in crime.

- Mr. Mezznou and Orlando. - Yes, and apparently,

they were in bed with your friend here and his so-called client.

Oh, come on, lady, give me a break.

You’re as far out in left field as this guy.

- Charlie! - Sergeant, getting back to business,

we got a lot of questions to ask this man.

So when are you going to be finished with him?

I’ll let you know, Agent Nemeth.

Meanwhile, this is my case, my collar,

and I want you out of here, now.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Telephone, Sergeant.

Yeah.

Sergeant, the waitress confirmed Garrett’s alibi.

All right, thanks. And keep looking for the murder weapon.

Okay, Garrett.

The waitress in the all-night coffee shop confirms your alibi.

Didn’t I tell you?

She said that waiting on you was like time stood still for her.

- Yeah? - Yeah.

She said she’ll never forget pouring you six cups of coffee for a 20-cent tip.

Get him out of here, Jessica.

Time stood still.

Jessica, what are you talking about?

I think I know where to find the painting and who murdered Angus Neville.

Really? Aren’t you gonna let me in on it?

I don’t think I can trust you, Charlie.

Jessica?

Charlie, you were supposed to go and find Sergeant Unger.

Yeah, I know I was, but fortunately, my better judgment kicked in.

Anyway, you weren’t being that straight with me.

Well, with good reason, obviously, Charlie.

The truth is, ever since I met you,

I’ve been afraid that something like this would happen.

Is there anything that I can say?

Not this time, Jessica. The stakes are just too high.

I must say I’m greatly relieved.

Giles?

Because you and Mr. Garrett are friends,

I had serious doubts when he called me.

I was afraid I was being set up.

But you see, I made him an irresistible offer.

Half of everything in exchange for keeping my mouth shut.

I’ll probably hate myself, Jessica, but...

Charlie.

You can’t trust him. He’s a murderer.

That’s a rather outrageous thing to say, Jessica.

And quite untrue.

Well, not really, Giles.

When I stopped in here earlier today, you were on the phone.

It’s now 2:55.

I can be there in half an hour.

And yet, your clock said 2:37,

just as it does now.

At the time, I simply assumed it was a few minutes slow.

But when Sergeant Unger mentioned the words,

"time stood still,"

I remembered that the pendulum wasn’t moving and realized

it had actually stopped at 2:37 this morning,

when you returned from having murdered Angus

and stealing Arrangement in Grey and Red,

and inadvertently jammed the clock’s mechanism

by concealing this inside--

Arrangement in Grey and Red, painted over the Degas.

I’m impressed, Jessica.

Yes.

Yes, I did it.

Garrett, what are we going to do with her?

Well, I don’t know about you, pal,

but I’m gonna give her a great big hug for cooking up this charade.

And I’m placing you under arrest for murder, Mr. Havelock,

along with grand theft.

We have found this dagger in a dumpster

on Third Avenue and University Place,

one block from Neville’s studio.

I worked late last night...

after the auction,

writing checks to creditors, as a matter of fact,

in anticipation of the fat commission from this.

Then I began thinking about Diana’s behavior, and Felix Wesker,

Lawrence Mezznou and the ridiculous price.

And then, your request for that list of stolen artworks.

There was obviously more to it than met the eye.

I let myself into the storeroom and examined the canvas.

And then, I realized it was one of Degas’ stretchers.

I was contemplating what to do next, when the decision was made for me.

I watched from the shadows as Angus stole the painting.

When he left, I came back in here, grabbed my letter opener,

and followed him to his studio.

Those three generations of tradition,

they were a formidable burden, Jessica.

It was the only way I could see to keep

Greylight Auction Galleries from going under.

Well, nobody’s perfect.

Reggie, I know how the board feels,

but I really am more convinced than ever

that there’s something about this journal

that is just not quite right.

Well, the fact that Felix Wesker used dead people to bid on it

does raise a few more questions.

At any rate, for the moment, I really do recommend

that the museum should stop payment on the check until we sort this thing out.

Only a few years earlier.

Ellis island was finally closed in 1924.

But today, restored and reopened as a national monument,

Americans have the opportunity to once again...

1924. That’s it!

- That’s what’s wrong. - Of course.

He described his visit to Ellis island.

And the immigrants’ faces.

And the place had already been closed for two years.

Hmm. Well, I can’t wait to get home.

At least with the Chicago crooks and con men,

you can tell the good guys from the bad guys.

Not always, Charlie.