Original subtitles

You're breaking my arm!

I told you not to pick a fight.

Didn't I tell you that?

First time I saw that Bennett,

I knew he was nothing but trouble.

- Wayne? - Yeah?

I'd like to book you for a private session.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

A man was found shot to death in Eve's bedroom.

Come on, Wayne.

Don't force me to call your local sheriff.

Freddie, of course, he's more my age.

He's witty, and intellectually, we're simpatico.

Well, then, what's Wayne?

Oh, Wayne's all hormones.

- Freeze! - Don't shoot.

And three, two, three, four.

And right, two, three, four.

Very good, and left.

With the arms, keep it going.

Feel the burn.

Keep it up. Keep those legs up.

There you go.

- That's it. Keep it up. - Work those thighs.

Work those thighs. Yes, feel that burn. Good.

Six, seven...

Keep breathing. Janey, you're not breathing.

Ooh, look good, Eve.

You feel it in your neck, though?

There, too, Wayne.

Left down, Nancy.

- Huh? - Left down.

- Oh, Wayne? - Yeah.

I'd like to book you for a private session.

After class, I'll check my calendar.

Looking good. Step with the toes, Betty.

Back. Good girl.

Lil, look at you.

What, didn't I see you

in the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue?

You keep it up, next year you'll be on the cover.

What a gorgeous body.

That is you, Cher, isn't it?

You sweet-talking devil, you.

How Sonny ever left you I'll never understand.

Neither do I, honey, neither do I.

Okay, ladies, time's up. Time's up.

Terrific morning. Keep it up.

You are doing wonderfully.

- What a slave driver. - You love it.

Don't we all?

Oh, Eve, I'm ready for an orange juice.

- How about you? - Oh, no, can't Renee.

I've got to run. I've got a prospective buyer

coming up from Boston to look at the old Sullivan farm.

Are you still stuck with that eyesore?

Believe it. At night, not even the Sullivan's cows

want to come home.

The tension's all up here, Eve.

It's from all those hours you spend

on the phone at the office.

You get yourself a speaker phone,

- and while you're on it-- - I know, I know.

I order your $800, custom-designed Exercycle

and ride while I work.

You see? The product sells itself.

Eve, no matter what the cost,

I want a perfect body.

Whose? Yours or his?

This ad of yours in the Boston Globe

certainly piqued my curiosity.

- I hope I'm not too late. - Late?

Oh, no, Mr. Keppard, but, well, to be quite truthful,

there's quite a bit of interest in the old Sullivan farm,

what with so many city people

hearing the call of mother nature.

Oh, I heard the call all right.

And it's Fred, Freddie to my friends.

Well, Fred...

Freddie...

about this $600,000 price tag...

Look, if it lives up to its description,

$600,000 seems definitely fair.

Right, fair. Absolutely.

- Do you plan to keep it a dairy farm? - Yes, I do,

but I don't plan to do the milking.

Well, of course not.

Well, it's about a 40-minute drive, so...

So let's go. The sooner, the better.

I want those cows to give milk, not cottage cheese.

My daughter is off in college.

My wife... my wife passed away two years ago.

- Ah. - I don't think rattling around

in that big old house in Boston is doing me much good.

Besides, I've got to do something with my money.

Real estate has always been a rock-bottom investment for me.

Absolutement.

Oh, my! Yours?

Now, since you know the way and I don't,

it's yours for now, Eve.

Oh, it is Eve, isn't it?

Oh, yes, Eve is fine.

Evie to my friends.

You know, Jessica, since I started the Wayne workout

three months ago, I've never felt better.

One of these days, I'm gonna have to meet this miracle man.

You know, the ladies at the beauty parlor

can hardly talk about anything else.

Uh, could we pull over for a moment or two?

Oh, you can't be tired already.

Well, not me.

Hope you don't mind if we have a little pit stop, Ben,

but my legs are giving out.

Well, I was just getting warmed up,

but anything to oblige a lady.

Nancy was just telling me

that Wayne Bennett seems to be revolutionizing

Cabot Cove's health habits.

Well, the female half, anyway.

Yes. We've noticed that his gym hasn't caught on

with the chauvinist population.

Give me a brisk walk or a bike ride

in the country anytime.

You know, Ben, if you're embarrassed about exercising

with a bunch of women, Wayne does give

private workouts in the home.

Not with me, he doesn't.

So, Nancy, what does your husband

think about the new you?

You know Clarence, after 20 years,

he finally got used to the old me.

Wasn't that Eve Simpson?

I wonder where she got that new car.

Never mind the car.

What about the guy sitting next to her?

Well, if I know Eve, we'll hear all about it.

So when Mr. Keppard said he was interested

in settling down, I took him right out

to the old Sullivan place.

He's a man of impeccable taste.

He knows just what he wants.

I've got his deposit check in my pocket.

- Eve, that's wonderful. - Freddie definitely is.

Oh, business and pleasure?

Oh, you've got to meet him, Jessica.

We're talking charm, we're talking single

we're talking Gentleman farmer with a capital "G".

Well, we're not talking,

but you're gushing like a schoolgirl.

Who, moi?

Oh, goodness. Thank you, Clarence.

Thank you. Good morning, Jessica, Eve.

- Good morning, Clarence. - Good morning.

I'll have that back for you late tomorrow.

Oh, thank you. Morning, Nancy.

- Jessica. - There you are.

Hi, Wayne. See you in class tomorrow.

Wayne.

Wayne, you've got to meet Jessica Fletcher.

I've seen you around town, Mrs. Fletcher.

It's a pleasure.

Well, it's very nice to meet you.

Well, actually, we're not exactly strangers.

You were in my bedroom just last night.

Was I?

I've got your one of your books on tape.

I listen to it on my Exercycle.

By the time your killer confessed,

I'd pedaled halfway to Portland.

Oh, Jessica, why don't you try a session

down at Wayne's with me?

He's got a stress-reduction program

designed for working women like us.

Well, thank you, Eve,

but I take out my stress on my rose bushes.

Oh, by the by, Wayne,

do you happen to have an hour tonight?

I really need a private.

Well, I could do you around 9:00.

Nine at my place it is.

Excuse me, ladies.

Kind of takes your breath away.

A few moments ago, your breath

was taken away by Mr. Keppard.

Oh, yes, well, Freddie, of course, he's more my age,

he's witty, and intellectually, we're simpatico.

- Well, then, what's Wayne? - Oh, Wayne's all hormones.

- Hello, Wayne. - Hi.

We've got some imported aftershave on special.

Uh, Nancy,

want to open that case of dental floss?

Can I help you, Mr. Bennett?

Well, you sure can, Mr. La Rue.

I'd like you folks to carry

my new line of health cocktails.

I'll supply the display stand, and the first case is free.

Look, Joe, it's Wayne Bennett.

Oh, it's Wayne Bennett.

Geez, Lil, it ain't Elvis come back from the grave.

Oh, Clarence, those juices are just wonderful.

I drink three a day.

And I have more energy than ever.

Then how come the house is always a mess, huh?

I mean, for his workouts, you've got energy,

for me, you got a dead battery.

'Cause I happen to work nights, Joe,

or maybe you forgot.

Anytime you want to hire a housekeeper,

- be my guest! - Folks, would you mind?

Yeah, you're a real charmer, Bennett.

Yesterday, you soaked my wife

for a $99 custom-made showerhead,

guaranteed to spray her with vitality.

Well, I'm the only one gonna spray my wife with vitality.

Look, I don't want any trouble.

Yeah, good. Just go.

And just take your little dog-and-pony show out of town,

out of state, you know?

- Joe! - Ungh!

Joe, stop it! Stop that!

Joe! Just cut that out!

Agh! You're breaking my arm.

I told you not to pick a fight.

Didn't I tell you that?

First time I saw that Bennett,

I knew he was nothing but trouble.

Well, that's just wonderful.

Oh, well, what is it, Eve?

I have to go to Rockport this evening.

One of my escrows is about to fall through,

and tonight of all nights.

I had to cancel my... massage with Wayne.

He was very disappointed.

Oh, I imagine he was.

Eve?

Freddie.

Say hello to my friend, Jessica Fletcher.

I'm charmed, Mrs. Fletcher.

I've heard so much about you,

and I'm delighted to meet Eve's closest friend.

Well, I've heard raves about you, too, Mr. Keppard.

Please, it's Freddie.

Freddie.

Eve, I stopped by your office.

I'd like to talk to you as soon as possible.

Well, how about now?

We're finished, aren't we, Jessica?

Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

I've got a pile of work waiting for me at home.

Well, it was so nice meeting you, Freddie.

- And I you, Mrs. Fletcher. - Thank you.

Oh, I'll take care of the lunch check, Jessica.

Oh, thank you, Eve.

- Bye. - Bye-bye.

Eve...

I don't know quite how to say this,

but have you cashed that $10,000 deposit check?

Oh, you haven't changed your mind, have you?

Well, not willingly.

Look, I hate to let you down...

Let me down?

You said that you wanted to retire.

- I thought-- - Well, let's just say

that my cash flow flowed out, not in.

Freddie, what's going on?

The truth?

I'm not a farmer, Eve.

The fact is I'm just a man looking for a quick million.

Oh, really?

Well, a man after my own heart

in more ways than one.

I have an in with a congressman downstate.

This is very confidential.

A regional shopping center may be going up

alongside the Sullivan farm.

Now, the Highway Commission is gonna need that acreage

as access roads,

connecting the center to the thruway.

In a year, that farm could be worth millions.

Exactly.

My problem is, I got all my cash tied up

in an offshore Canadian oil venture.

Wait a minute, Freddie.

I have clients.

I have resources.

I have some money.

There's nothing to prevent

you and I from pulling this off together.

No, no, I wouldn't let you take the risk.

Well, you said yourself it was a sure thing.

Tonight, I will bring home some clients' portfolios.

And after I get back from Rockport,

I'll see who might be in a position

to invest in our hot investment opportunity.

- Wayne, we'll see you. - Night, Wayne.

- Bye-bye. - Good work, you guys.

- Bye. Take care, Karen. - Bye-bye. See you.

- Drive safe. - Take care.

Nice operation, Wayne.

Fred?

Looks like a license to print money.

What are you doing here?

Heard you struck it rich.

A coach likes to keep track of his star players.

Yeah, I kind of like this new game of yours,

almost smells legit.

It is.

Hey, old buddy, it's me. It's me you're talking to.

You got yourself in tight

with all the ladies in this town,

like always.

Well, that's okay if you're into nickel-and-dime stuff.

But, I got a better way to cash in,

our old standby, real estate.

Not interested.

Oh, come on, Wayne.

Don't force me to call your local sheriff.

Wouldn't be good for business.

For either of us.

You threatening me?

Kid, what you know,

I taught you...

and don't you ever forget it.

We'll chat again, kid.

Count on it.

- Freeze! - Don't shoot.

Joe.

What the hell you doing here?

Dah-dee-dah-dum.

Mr. Keppard's room, please.

But he's expecting my call.

Would you try the room again, please?

Hello, ma'am? I'm sorry.

Mr. Keppard doesn't seem to be answering.

You say you got back around ten o'clock?

Yes, just about. I don't, maybe a little after.

Eve, I came as soon as I heard.

Oh, God, Jess. Somebody shot him.

Freddie, he's dead.

- Eve, I'm so sorry. - Miss Simpson.

You said you found your front door was still locked.

You got any idea how the victim might have got in?

No. I only met him yesterday.

I mean, he didn't have a key.

Oh, sheriff, there was nothing between us,

nothing like that.

I--we were business partners.

And I haven't the faintest idea

what he was doing here.

While I was trying to reach him at his motel,

I noticed my papers were all messed up.

Well, whoever shot him was obviously

rummaging looking for something.

Is anything missing?

Oh, well, my jewelry's still here.

Well, then, we're not dealing with a thief,

at least not a jewel thief.

- Uh, sheriff? - Floyd, listen.

I want you to check that all out

- for fingerprints, all right? - Uh, yeah.

And look. Look for footprints outside in the flowerbed.

All right.

Miss Simpson, the way it looks to me,

the killer found the window open,

climbed in, maybe to rob the place,

and all of a sudden,

he's surprised by your boyfriend.

I told you, he wasn't my boyfriend.

Eve, assuming that Fred surprised the intruder,

what was he doing here in the first place,

and did he also climb in through the window?

Uh, sheriff?

Uh, from the amount of blood and the size of the wounds,

the weapon must have been a shotgun,

fired from, say, ten, 15 feet away.

Well, that accounts for some of those folks outside

thinking they heard a car backfire around 9:15.

Thanks, Charlie.

Tell the coroner I need a report ASAP.

Okay.

Eve, you're coming to my house for a few days.

- Get some things. - Oh, no, I couldn't.

No, I absolutely insist.

Look, the sheriff is gonna be sealing off the house.

You may not want to come back here for a few days.

Thanks, Jessica.

I just can't figure out how Fred got in, or why.

If it was about business, he could have simply asked

to see the portfolios I'd brought home.

Yeah.

What about that check that you mentioned,

the binder on the Sullivan farm?

I mean, would he have come to retrieve that?

No. No. I told him I wouldn't cash it,

even if I'd wanted to, which I couldn't,

because he was temporarily short of funds.

Did he know that you were in Rockport tonight?

Yes, I'd mentioned it. Why? What does that prove?

Well, only that he didn't just drop by.

He knew that you weren't going to be there.

Excuse me.

Oh, Sheriff Metzger.

Mrs. Fletcher. Thank you.

- Please, have a seat. - Thank you.

- Would you like some coffee? - Uh, no, thanks anyway.

Miss Simpson, we found Fred Keppard's car

parked three blocks away from your house.

Now, it looks to me like he didn't want to be seen

Pulling up to your front door.

- Why not? - You tell me.

Fred wouldn't have been up to anything in my bedroom,

at least not without me.

Well, after all, sheriff, the man was a widower.

A widower, huh?

That explains why we're having trouble notifying his next of kin.

Oh, he told me he had a daughter.

She goes to college.

Oh, which one, Eve?

Oh...

Fred didn't exactly say.

What's the daughter's name?

Um... oh, I'm not exactly sure he told me that, either.

He didn't tell anybody much of anything.

It's kind of funny, don't you think?

Man pops up out of nowhere,

no family, no friends, no job, no home address,

rented car.

Oh, please, sheriff. Big entrepreneurs

always lease their cars for tax purposes.

Oh, yeah?

Are those entre-whatzits always three months behind in their car payments?

Hello?

Oh, yes. Sheriff, it's for you.

Ah, thank you.

Metzger.

Oh, he did, huh?

No kidding?

Yeah, what was that again?

Are you sure about that?

Okay. Okay.

Yep. Okay, listen.

Let me know if you hear anything else, will you?

Yeah, take it easy.

Miss Simpson.

Miss Simpson.

- This guy, Keppard... - Yes?

Did he ever mention to you any of his other names,

like Fred Halberg, alias Dr. Fred Halberg,

Frank Horton and Fritz Hansen?

Guy's got a rap sheet as long as your arm.

And he served a sentence in Joliet prison for Bunco.

Bunco?

Fraud, flim-flam.

The guy was a con man, Miss Simpson.

No.

No, he wouldn't have. He couldn't have.

- He wouldn't have what, Eve? - Oh, God!

Was I ever a prize chump?

He was searching through my files

looking for new clients to swindle.

I'm sorry, ma'am, you lost me.

He was trying to get me to invest

in the Sullivan farm.

He said his money was tied up,

but there was information he had

that a shopping center was going up near the property.

And I offered to help him find some investors.

- I guess he couldn't wait. - Well, that fits.

This flim-flam artist goes poking around her bedroom,

and somebody finds him there.

Sheriff, even assuming

that Mr. Keppard had no shortage of enemies,

how could any of them have known

that he was at Eve's house at nine o'clock?

Unless...

Eve, besides Mr. Keppard, did you tell anyone

that you would be out of the house at 9:00?

- No one. - Wayne Bennett knew.

You cancelled your private workout.

- That's right. - Well, that's two.

If Keppard were still alive, we could ask him who else.

If Fred were still alive, I would kill him myself.

Sheriff, just off the top of your head,

how much time do you think I can get

for breaking into that gym, anyway?

Now you ask.

I knew I shouldn't have gone to work last night.

You had that look on your face.

Sheriff, who's that guy that got himself killed?

Out-of-town Bunco artist, name of Keppard.

Know him? How should I know him?

I hear he and Eve Simpson had something going.

I wouldn't know.

Nancy La Rue just happened to mention

she saw him and her driving out of town.

Eve was behind the wheel of his red Jaguar convertible.

But probably you already know that.

She mentioned it.

I'll let you know as soon as your lawyer gets here.

Now, wait there a minute, sheriff.

Now, last night, I was almost run down

by a red Jaguar convertible.

I think you probably ought to go talk to Mr. Wayne Bennett.

Wayne Bennett, huh? Why's that?

'Cause I saw the dead guy leaving Wayne's workout.

That's why. Now, come to think of it,

we don't know a lot about this Bennett now, either, do we?

A private hour with Wayne at your home is $75.

Tuesday at 8:00? Let me see.

- Hi, sheriff. - Want to work out?

Very good. And stretch. Really reach.

Mr. Bennett, can I see you a minute?

Why don't you ladies warm up? I'll be right in. Okay?

So this is where my wife keeps in shape, huh?

Adele is doing splendidly, sheriff.

She's made a real commitment here.

Yeah, I know.

I just paid her bill from last month.

Well, no pain, no gain.

Yeah.

So is there something I can do for you?

Well, I was just driving by,

and I thought I'd save you a trip.

This is the complaint against Joe Hardin.

Want to sign it?

You know, if Joe transferred some of that temper

into physical exercise, he'd live a lot longer.

Yeah, well, I'll tell him you suggested it.

That the stuff my wife drinks?

You ever tried it?

On the house. Got no sugars,

no calories, packed with natural vitamins.

A bottle a day will make you a new man, sheriff.

Well, thanks. I appreciate that.

I'll just save it for the car, all right?

You have a nice day.

I am not a nosy, inquisitive busybody.

I am a newspaperman hot on the trail of a story.

And the cold-blooded murder of a con man in your bedroom

happens to be news, Mrs. Simpson.

You're making it seem as if Mr. Keppard and I

were having an affaire d'couer, Mr. Devlin.

I think you've been watching too much Geraldo.

Well, one of us has. Yes.

All right, you two. Now, that's enough.

Jessica, I have a paper to get out.

This would be a pretty good story even in St. Louis,

here in Cabot Cove, it is real big news.

Not necessarily, and besides,

everybody in town already knows what happened.

She may be right, Ben.

You know, the printed page will never scoop

the beauty parlor hotline.

Well, maybe so, but I'll be hanged

if I'm going to turn the Gazette into a puff piece

for Mrs. Simpson's real estate handouts.

That's it. Consider my advertising budget

withdrawn, Mr. Devlin.

Consider it done, Mrs. Simpson.

But I can see that coming here was a complete waste of time.

Oh, Ben, wait.

If you will excuse me, I am going to get some coffee.

Eve...

Eve Simpson, in whose bedroom

the victim was discovered,

was asked if she knew him and how she knew him.

Mrs. Simpson's response was, "No comment."

And you can quote me!

Now, Ben, wait.

I need a lift to La Rue's drugstore

before it closes.

Eve, I'll be back in a few minutes.

Try to come back alone!

Cancel her advertising. Ha! That's a hot one.

She hasn't paid her bill in three months.

Well, the town's pretty quiet lately.

Quiet? Got to rename this place Catatonia.

I came back for peace and quiet, not embalming.

Hello? Nancy?

Is anybody here?

Hello, Jessica.

You made it just before closing.

Oh, with a minute to spare. I came to get my film.

Hello there, Mr. Devlin.

I'll sure be glad to close up.

Been a busy day working shorthanded.

Oh? Where's Nancy?

Drove to Augusta last night-- Family emergency.

- Oh, dear. - Yup, her sister took sick.

And Nancy's helping out with the kids.

I'll put this on your charge.

Thank you. Say hello when she gets back.

- Good night, Clarence. - Good night.

And Jessica, I'll tell you what else I think.

Oh, Ben, we all know what you think.

It is not just idle gossip, Betty.

I got it straight from Loretta down at the beauty parlor.

A man was found shot to death in Eve's bedroom.

Besides, it made the morning papers.

I don't read the newspapers.

Now, exactly what the man was wearing,

I wouldn't know.

I know, Renee. The look was Ivy League.

But the jury is still out on whether the suit was paid for.

- Oh, my, my, my-- - Now, listen, Renee!

Okay, girls.

Let's not turn this into kickboxing, all right?

- Bye. - How you feeling, Eve?

Oh, not too bad, except this crick in my neck.

- Oh, you do, huh? - Oh, oh, right there.

Oh, yeah. Oh, that's great.

- Where's Nancy La Rue today? - I don't know, and don't stop.

Come on, let's work out those kinks.

All right, ladies, back to work.

Come on. Everybody get moving.

Let's go, come on.

Okay, come on. Come on.

Pull it up. Pull it up. Form two lines, and...

toe raises, tuck your tummy.

And on my count, it's one, two,

three, good, four, five,

come on, six, count with me, seven,

eight, nine...

ten.

- Sheriff. - Sorry, ladies.

Class dismissed. What?

Sheriff, if this is about my complaint to Joe Hardin,

can't it wait until tomorrow?

It isn't, and no, it can't.

Wayne Bennett, alias Wayne Freeman,

I'm arresting you for the murder of Fred Keppard.

Hit the showers, ladies.

You have the right to remain silent.

If you give up the right to remain silent,

anything you say can and will be

used against you in a court of law.

- Hello? - Jessica. Oh, thank God!

Sheriff Metzger just arrested Wayne Bennett for murder.

What?

He pulled him right out of class.

Jessica, this is insane.

Eve, believe me,

Sheriff Metzger would not arrest Wayne

without some kind of evidence.

Like what? When I tried to stop him,

Sheriff Metzger said I was just another one

of Wayne's hysterical, love-smitten customers.

He won't even let me visit him.

Oh, please, Jessica, you've got to do something.

Now, six months ago when you came into this town,

you probably thought you were dealing

with some hick sheriff.

Wrong, buddy boy.

That little bottle of orange sunshine you handed me?

Well, I sent that nice set of fingerprints

off to the FBI just on a hunch.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, I'm kind of busy right now.

Oh, that's quite all right, sheriff.

I'll wait.

The Feds faxed me a rap sheet on a guy named Wayne Freeman,

released from Joliet prison a year ago.

Now, from the description of this guy,

he could be your twin brother.

Would you like me to read you a list of the Bunco convictions?

Okay, okay. I was in prison.

I didn't care much for the experience,

so I decided to get into something legitimate.

Legitimate, huh?

Well, the last time you were busted,

your partner was a guy named Fred Keppard.

Are you following me, Mr. Bennett?

Hey, I didn't kill him.

Look, I had Joe Hardin locked up back there all night,

until his lawyer just bailed him out.

Now, he says he saw Keppard driving away from your gym

the night he was killed.

Okay.

All right, Fred located me two days ago.

He wanted to use me in some lame scheme

he was working on Eve Simpson to con the other women in town.

I said no.

I told Fred that I was on the level these days,

but he figured I owed him.

So he threatened to go public with your past

unless you joined him?

Okay.

So where were you between 8:00 and 10:00

last Friday night?

In my apartment, watching TV, alone.

Alone, huh? Too bad.

Okay, Floyd, lock him up.

What about a lawyer?

And let him run his fingers through the Yellow Pages.

You said you got his prints

off a bottle of his orange drink?

Right.

And did you analyze the contents?

Yeah. The usual ingredients.

Sodium benzoate, ascorbic acid, carob bean gum.

Oh, and yeah, even a little orange juice.

No drugs, no poison, nothing illegal or fraudulent?

Okay, okay, Mrs. Fletcher.

I know what you're gonna say. He's a nice guy.

He couldn't possibly have done it.

No, that isn't what I was gonna say at all.

You weren't?

No, he may very well have killed Mr. Keppard.

But I'm pretty sure that he wasn't telling

the truth about something.

What I'd like to suggest is,

that is, if it's all right with you, of course...

Of course.

Is that I spend a few moments alone with him.

Maybe get him to open up a bit.

Who knows, he might tell me something that he would feel

reluctant to reveal to you.

You mean confess?

Mrs. Fletcher, be my guest.

Eve Simpson is very worried about you, Wayne.

You see, she's convinced that you're innocent.

Eve's a good Judge of character.

She also believed that Fred Keppard was a charming widower

with a healthy bank account.

Mrs. Fletcher, I'm not into murder.

Matter of fact, I'm not even into Bunco.

Not anymore, I mean, not really.

I mean, sure, I suppose I could charge a little less

for my health drinks or the t-shirts or even the sessions.

But what I'm selling these ladies is a sense

of well-being, of belonging.

They get their money's worth.

Well, I suppose there is a certain amount of con

attached to any business, like, well, like when my agent calls

me and talks me into going into a personal appearance tour.

The problem is, Wayne, aside from Eve Simpson,

no one in this town even knew Fred Keppard.

And while it's easy to believe a lot of things about Eve,

murder is not one of them.

Look, I swear to you, I didn't kill him.

Well, perhaps not.

But you weren't alone in your apartment

watching TV when he was killed.

Where were you, Wayne?

Look, all I can tell you, Mrs. Fletcher,

is I didn't kill him.

It's ridiculous. Arresting Wayne.

That dumb sheriff,

he ought to have his head examined.

And his wife.

Did you know that she's got

a marine corps tattoo right here?

- No? - Yes.

It's criminal.

You know, I think we should get together,

I mean, all of us, form a committee.

Hire an attorney... Ah, my husband, the lawyer.

Fine. Fine by me.

As soon as we get home, I'll start calling.

Good.

Um, excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, hello. It's Betty, isn't it?

I think we met one night at Eve Simpson's house.

Right, I wasn't sure that you'd remember.

Um, Mrs. Fletcher,

I think I kind of need your advice.

I mean, I know I should go to the sheriff,

but Wayne told me not to.

But I don't know--

Well, what is it?

Wayne told the sheriff

that the night Fred Keppard was killed

that he was alone in his apartment

watching television.

That isn't true. Fact is, he was with me.

Look, Betty, I know that you want to help Wayne

- in anyway that you can, but-- - It's not a lie.

Please believe me. We were together all evening.

Until sunup, as a matter of fact.

And I'll swear to that in court.

I see.

No, no. I'm not sure that you do.

You see, for the past nine months,

Wayne and I have been married.

Look, sheriff,

what I'm selling isn't just exercise.

The only way it can possibly work,

is for me to pretend I'm single.

I have my own little place down by the beach.

I rented it under my maiden name.

And we'll show you a marriage license if you want.

Okay, so you got a license.

Mrs. Bennett,

did you happen to know this guy, Keppard?

No.

I mean, I knew of him, of course.

Look, sheriff, there's no reason

to keep Wayne here anymore, is there?

Well, I'm afraid I don't quite see it that way, ma'am.

You see, all I've got is your word

that your husband was with you the night of the murder.

Now, you're not exactly an impartial witness.

Now, I'm sorry, ma'am.

Until the courts tell me different,

he stays right here.

We want our money back.

Look, sweetie, I heard it straight from Ideal Malloy,

who heard it straight from Phyllis Grant.

But there's got to be some mistake.

Yeah, and old blue eyes made it.

I want a refund on my lifetime membership.

Me, too.

Well, the line forms to the right, girls.

But I'm sorry, you women all signed contracts.

That was before we knew Wayne was married.

Married! He could be a murderer.

Look, honey.

We get our money back,

or my husband, the lawyer, turns this place

into a pizza parlor.

You know, one thing just doesn't add up.

If Wayne was going back to his old con games,

why kill Fred Keppard?

I mean, why not just team up with him

and operate the land swindle?

Oh, sheriff, there you are.

Sheriff, if you're all finished,

I'd like to move back in now.

It's me, ladies, Floyd.

The sheriff's in the living room.

I'll check with him.

Oh, dear.

Maybe that's what happened. What?

Eve, who besides you and me and Wayne

knew that you wouldn't be at the house Friday night?

Well, just Fred, I guess.

Which is why Fred showed up to go through your files.

A darkened bedroom window.

He was shot from ten, 15 feet away?

Yes.

Maybe he was shot from outside the house.

Maybe he was shot from here, through the open window.

And like me, the killer couldn't see inside very well

so he shot Fred by mistake.

Eve, someone else was supposed to be here

at this house that night.

At least he was,

until you cancelled the appointment.

Wayne.

Ah, come on, Mrs. F.

You're making it sound like the guy I got locked up

wasn't the killer, but the intended victim.

Exactly. The killer expected Wayne to be here

and shot Fred by mistake in the dark,

probably through the open window.

Well, suppose you're right. Where would I start?

Every husband in town wanted to kill Wayne.

All except you, sheriff.

Thanks, Floyd.

Wait a minute. Joe Hardin.

Joe Hardin?

Who had a better motive?

Well, Jessica, you remember, Joe was at the pharmacy.

He overheard me make that nine o'clock appointment with Wayne.

But he didn't know you'd cancelled.

- Uh, sheriff? - Sure.

Joe shoots Keppard, thinking it's Wayne,

and then I arrest him on a namby-pamby charge

of breaking into a gym.

He gets 30 days instead of 30 years.

- Sheriff... - What is it, Floyd?

Well, can't be Joe Hardin.

What do you mean, can't be Joe Hardin?

This Keppard fellow was shot at 9:15.

Yeah?

- And the fact is... - Yeah?

You arrested Joe at the gym at nine o'clock.

Just a moment, sheriff.

Eve, at the pharmacy,

now, Joe was not the only one

who overheard you and Wayne make that appointment.

No, Nancy La Rue was standing...

oh, my gosh.

She's missed the last two days at the gym.

I stopped by the pharmacy the other evening.

Clarence said that Nancy left town

the night that Fred was killed

to visit her sister in Augusta.

Left town or skipped town?

So Friday night, where did you go, Mrs. La Rue?

She told you.

She went to visit her sister in Augusta.

Sir, if you don't mind, I'd like to hear from your wife.

Eileen's kids were both sick with the flu,

and her husband was out of town on business,

she called and asked if I could stay for a couple of days.

That's all there is to it.

Does your sister have a phone number?

Sheriff, I didn't kill this Fred Keppard.

I didn't even know him.

But you knew Wayne Bennett.

Excuse me, Nancy,

what time did you leave for Augusta?

I don't know.

Around 9:00, I guess.

- Anyone see you? - No.

No, wait.

I pulled into the Dusty River Motel

around ten o'clock.

It's an hour's drive from here on the interstate.

It's just outside of Whitsonberg, I believe.

Floyd, check it out.

Sheriff, what the hell is this all about?

My wife didn't kill anybody.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

Nancy, it seems odd to me

that you would stop off at a motel.

I mean, you were only an hour from Augusta.

Well, I was tired.

I couldn't keep my eyes open.

I was afraid of falling asleep at the wheel.

That's right. And she called Eileen

and said she wouldn't arrive until the next morning.

Isn't that right, honey?

Yes, that's right.

Okay if I call her on it?

Sheriff, this is ridiculous.

My goodness.

That's a nasty bruise you have near your eye.

Though, it seems to be clearing up.

Mrs. La Rue, you mind telling me how you got that?

Yes, she does mind.

Mr. La Rue, do you mind?

Clarence...

It's no good. I can't lie anymore.

Nancy, don't...

The truth is,

Clarence and I had a fight.

I came home around 8:30 or so.

I'd been down by the ocean, sitting and thinking.

I do that a lot when I want to sort things out for myself.

And I had a lot on my mind.

Such as?

My life. My marriage.

Clarence had been drinking.

He started accusing me of being with Wayne.

Well, I hadn't been, but he wouldn't listen to me.

He never listens to me when he gets like that.

Alcohol makes him crazy.

He hit me.

For a moment, I thought he was gonna kill me.

All I could think of was getting out of there.

I didn't even pack a bag.

I drove and drove.

I had no idea where I was going.

And then I saw the motel.

And I pulled in. I was so upset.

I realized that I was maybe

going to have an accident on the road.

Sheriff, motel says Mrs. La Rue checked in

about ten, Friday night, just like she said.

Checked out this morning.

Well, I guess that lets you off the hook, ma'am.

Looks like I've been barking up the wrong tree.

No, not the wrong tree, sheriff,

merely the wrong branch.

We both were.

What are you looking at me for?

I didn't shoot the guy through that window.

Didn't you, Clarence?

Whoever killed Fred Keppard thought he was killing Wayne.

Who could possibly have known

that Wayne would be at Eve's house at nine o'clock?

Only someone at the pharmacy

who happened to overhear Eve make the appointment.

Joe was already arrested by that time,

and Lil was at work.

Since Nancy's in the clear that leaves...

Eve Simpson.

No, Eve was in Rockport, dealing with some clients.

There's something else, Clarence.

You said you didn't shoot Fred through that open window.

How did you know that that's where the shot came from?

Clarence...

I never was much of a liar.

Ain't much of a killer, either.

Hiding in the shadows...

I had too much to drink that night

like Nancy said.

I was pitifully drunk and feeling sorry for myself.

All I could think about was losing Nancy.

And then it hit me.

I remembered Wayne would be at Eve's,

so I grabbed my shotgun.

All I could think about was that damned city fellow

and his line of gab

and his hands on every woman in town

and us husbands paying for the privilege.

I came up the side of her house,

looked in the window.

It was dark, but I saw him.

I figured I'd be doing myself and every man in town a favor.

I fired, and he dropped.

Then I didn't hear a sound.

I knew I'd got him.

Soon as I got home, I hit the couch and passed out.

When I woke up the next morning...

and saw my gun...

What I did, all came back to me.

Clarence...

Wasn't till later that day I found out

I shot the wrong man.

I love you, honey.

Always have.

I'm sorry.

It just come out all wrong.

Thanks.

That was the county attorney's office.

La Rue's pleaded guilty to second-degree.

It will be quite a while before he fills another prescription.

John Barleycorn and a jealous nature

are definitely not boon companions.

So Mort, what's in the box?

- What box? - That box.

Ben and I are dying of curiosity.

Oh, well, it's just a little peace offering from Wayne

to show there were no hard feelings.

Oh, how very thoughtful of him.

What is it?

It's a, uh...

custom-made showerhead.

Comes with a full-range spray

and a contemporary white finish.

How nice of Wayne to give it to you.

Uh, well, he didn't exactly give it to me.

Didn't? What did it cost you?

Not a dime, I swear.

Comes absolutely free when you sign up

for a year's worth of Wayne's new bodybuilding classes.

You, Mort? Surely you jest.

This is strictly self-preservation.

Believe me.

Last night, Adele and me got into

a little arm wrestling competition.

She took me, ten out of ten.

Oh, dear.

Yeah, "Oh, dear," is right.

Before she started going to Wayne's,

I'd always win at least one,

sometimes even two.