All language subtitles for MrSWr713

He said that this time,

he was gonna kill her.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

If you don't smarten up, Sheriff,

you are gonna get so much heat.

But what can I do?

You're not caving in

to political pressure, are you?

I ought to let you rot here.

That'll look real good on the front page

of "the Washington Post."

It's the way they play in the big leagues.

You murdered the prisoner.

Somebody should've killed that guy long ago.

It's really a shame that your sheriff

didn't drop the charges.

I thought you had more fight in you than that.

Stand up to them, Mort.

Morning, Len, Mrs. Costner, Janet.

Lovely day. We need rain.

Yes, it's been a mite dry lately, hasn't it?

Well, you know what they say.

Sunshine brings the tourists out.

Tourists! Hmph!

The reason I retired to Cabot Cove four years ago

was to get away from those people, Mayor.

Well, that's why the good people of Cabot Cove

elected me Mayor: to make sure that nothing

spoils our fair little community.

Well, you look very lovely today, Janet.

You been around to register yet?

Why vote? It only encourages them.

Yeah, what's shaking, Floyd?

The only call was from Shorty down at the garage.

Says your Caddy will be ready about 5:00.

Listen, if things are that quiet,

maybe I'll just stop and hit a bucket of balls

on the way in, huh?

That's a-okay here.

Oh, listen, Floyd, I forgot to tell you.

Mrs. Fletcher's gonna be stopping by

to look at some files.

Give her all the help she needs, okay?

Roger. 10-4.

What's the problem, officer?

You missed a stop sign back there, sir.

I didn't see any stop sign.

Maybe that's because you were going so fast.

Can I see your driver's license and registration, please?

Oh, come on, give me a break. No harm, no foul.

Driver's license and auto registration.

Ah, jeez.

Well, here's the registration.

You know, I think I must've left

my driver's license at home.

That's pretty dumb, isn't it?

May I see some kind of identification?

Sure; I think I've got something right here.

Right here.

That's my name, right under the picture.

Ben Franklin.

You keep that. I got another one at home.

You want to step out of the car, sir?

Oh, look, my friend, what's a lousy stop sign

go for in this burg, huh?

$200?

Hey! Come on!

What the hell you doing?

What I'm doing, sonny boy, is taking you to jail.

Find what you were looking for, Ms. Fletcher?

Well, I was at a sticky place in my book.

I had to get my facts straight about the medical report,

and then I remembered something that happened years ago

when Amos Tupper was sheriff.

If that's Sheriff Metzger coming back,

I think I'd better give him back his desk.

Maybe he forgot his golf clubs.

You are making a big mistake here, my friend.

Yeah, yeah.

Hey, hey, can't we talk about this?

I mean, be reasonable!

I can see you're busy, Sheriff.

Why don't I come back later?

Floyd, book that guy.

Drunk driving, speeding, driving without a license,

and trying to bribe a police officer.

Bribe? You must be kidding.

All I did was ask him for change to make a phone call!

And I want to make that call now!

You'll make a phone call

when I say you can make a phone call.

You got that?

Floyd, count this.

There must be 20, 25 grand in there.

Mrs. F., if you'd be so kind as to check his figures

and sign this sheet as a witness.

And this one, put in a special envelope.

Man! Do you know who I am?

Hellman, Bradley. Two L's.

Do you know who my old man is? Ambassador Hellman.

Maybe you've heard of him even in this hick town.

Ambassador Chandler Hellman from New York?

This is false arrest!

He's gonna have your butt with a knife and fork.

Look, you sit down and you shut up

until I ask you a question.

You got that?

I don't care if your dad is the King of England.

Now, you're gonna do time for this.

On that you got my personal guarantee.

And if you're even thinking about making bail,

forget it.

Chandler Hellman?

The biggest Washington clout that money can buy, Jessica,

but his real power base is right here in New York.

And if you're thinking of putting him

in one of your books, forget it.

His lawyers will have you in court

before the dirt gets on the page.

Well, I'm afraid a Woodward-Bernstein

slashing expose isn't my forte, Haskell.

Well, there's not much to know

about Chandler Hellman, Jessica.

The man's about as deep as plastic food wrap

and just as transparent.

He made a fortune in defense contracts.

He laid out some heavy bucks in political contributions

and got rewarded with a couple of minor ambassadorial gigs.

So now he and his new wife...

He traded in his old model, Jessica...

Are buying their way into the power elite circles.

I understand there's a son.

Oh, yeah, him.

A snotty little wastrel, as I remember.

He nearly got himself into the deep dumper a few years ago.

Oh?

Yeah, but it all got swept under the rug.

But the word is, he got drunk one night.

He totaled the new car that his daddy bought him

and wiped out four people:

an off-duty policeman, his wife and kids.

Oh, how awful.

Like I said, Daddy managed to tidy things up.

I don't think anything ever came of it.

- An off-duty policeman? - Yeah.

- Hmm, that might explain it. - Explain what?

Oh, probably nothing. Thanks, Haskell.

I'll call you again if I need anything more.

We seem to be having

a communication problem here, Sheriff.

I am representing Ambassador Hellman's son.

He has a right to legal representation.

Oh, yeah, we've heard about that.

Even here in Cabot Cove.

Then let's make it simple.

You reduce the charges to misdemeanor...

Driving without a license... and we'll pay a fine.

You get your paperwork done by lunchtime,

we're on our way back to New York.

No deal.

I got him on drunk driving

and trying to bribe a police officer.

Legally speaking, you got nothing, Sheriff.

Brad tells me that you failed to advise him

of his right to refuse a breathalyzer test.

Anyway, we're gonna make that claim in court.

He tried to bribe me.

Yeah, well, since you don't have any witnesses,

that's gonna be very difficult to prove.

Face it, Sheriff.

If you press those charges,

you're only gonna embarrass yourself in court.

Watch me.

I don't embarrass easily.

- I want my client out on bail. - Then why don't you call

the bail commissioner in Augusta?

I already did. He doesn't have paperwork yet.

Maybe it got lost.

I'll run a tracer for you.

So that's the way it's gonna be?

That's the way it's gonna be, Counselor.

If you don't smarten up, Sheriff,

you are gonna get so much heat

that they're gonna be able to fry eggs

on your backside.

Yes, Mr. Congressman, I'm looking into it personally.

Yes, sir.

Well, I'll call you

just as soon as I get things sorted out.

Bye.

Sam, I came as soon as I got your message.

Mabel said it was a matter of life and death.

It is, Jessica.

Mayor, there's a Mr. Grundle

from the governor's office on line two.

Well, tell him I'll call him.

Tell him I'm in a meeting.

Hold all my calls, Mabel.

Sam, what's the matter?

You've got to talk with him, Jessica.

- With who? - Sheriff Metzger.

He's got some very important people upset with him.

My phone's been ringing all morning.

Let me guess: Brad Hellman.

I feel like I've run over a hornets' nest

with my power mower.

Sheriff Metzger won't listen to me.

I went over there, and he told me he to...

Well, it was very rude.

Now, Sam, you're not caving in

to political pressure, are you?

Oh, of course not.

I mean, you do plan to stand firmly

behind our sheriff, don't you, Sam?

Oh, absolutely, Jessica.

- Excuse me, Mayor... - I said hold my calls!

But there's someone here to see you, Mayor.

Mayor Booth,

I am Ambassador Chandler Hellman.

This is Mrs. Hellman.

And I do not mind telling you I am very upset.

Yes. Yes, indeed, Mr. Ambassador,

and I am very concerned myself.

What kind of a place is it where a boy

can be terrorized and thrown into jail

over a simple traffic violation?

Well, I'm looking into the matter personally,

Mr. Ambassador.

I was just over at the sheriff's office,

where I demanded an explanation.

Sam...

Oh, may I introduce Jessica Fletcher,

the famous author.

Mr. And Mrs. Ambassador Hellman.

How do you do?

- Mrs. Fletcher. - J.B. Fletcher?

Oh, of course.

Well, I knew that you lived in Maine,

but I had no idea it was here.

Oh, Chandler, Mrs. Fletcher is quite a celebrity.

Now, then, what is it that I can do to help you,

Mr. Ambassador?

You can remove that sheriff from office

and replace him with someone a little bit less corrupt!

I beg your pardon. Did you say "corrupt"?

Mr. Farrell, our family attorney,

informs me that this local police authority

is holding my son on a trumped-up charge

and trying to extort money from him.

Oh, I'm sorry, but I can't believe that for a moment.

Chandler, dear, perhaps we better talk with this sheriff

before we get too excited about all this.

You know, maybe there's a way to settle it

without too much fuss, hmm?

What do you think, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, I certainly don't approve

of pressure tactics.

Oh, absolutely not.

Chandler, dear, now you really have to calm down.

You haven't even talked to Brad yet.

Bradley, what is it gonna take to straighten you out?

Hey, they've got it in for strangers here.

They're making it sound a lot worse than it was, Dad.

Bradley, you forget that I know you.

I ought to let you rot here for a while.

It might finally make a man out of you.

Oh, sure, sure.

Maybe they ought to send me to jail

for a couple of years.

That'll look real good on the front page

of "the Washington Post."

Hmm, I guess my husband is giving Brad a good talking to.

Poor boy. Things haven't always been easy for him.

Sheriff, do you mind if I help myself

- to some of this coffee? - Oh, here.

Let me get that for you, Mrs. Hellman.

- Cream? Sugar? - Black, thank you.

Do you have any children, Mayor?

No. No, I don't.

They can be such a trial.

You know, Mrs. Hellman, you seem much too young

to be Brad's mother.

Oh, Brad's mother was Chandler's first wife.

I'm afraid he was rather neglected.

Well, Chandler was so busy and away so much of the time,

and even when he was there,

I suspect he was rather stern with him.

Poor boy.

Well, it would be such a shame if his whole life were ruined

just because of one little... misunderstanding.

What about Frank Casey's life?

And his wife and two kids?

Oh, I don't believe we know any Frank Casey.

But we meet so many people.

Damn it, Mayor. I will not stand for this!

I want bail posted immediately!

And I am giving you notice that I intend to file charges

of police brutality!

Now, just a moment.

There's never been any question of brutality.

Oh, no? That is not how it looks to me!

Who did this to you?

He did it!

What can I do?

For openers, you can show some backbone, Sam.

Listen, Mort Metzger has done a wonderful job

as sheriff since he came from New York.

Maybe so, but he's got it in for that boy,

and we can't have it!

Well, maybe he was a little bit stern with Brad Hellman.

But I mean, he has gone by the book, Sam.

Stern? We can't have him beating up people in our jail,

especially the sons of influential people

- from Washington! - Oh, nonsense.

I don't believe for a moment

that Sheriff Metzger struck that young man.

Floyd told me that there wasn't a mark on him

until his father went back in to see him.

Now, if you ask me, Ambassador Hellman hit him.

Well, maybe so, but that's not what the boy says.

Now they're sending an official from the state capital

to investigate.

There's nothing more I can do.

Well, somebody has to do something.

What can we do for you, Len?

I brought over your prisoner's lunch

from the diner.

You working at the diner now?

- I thought you were retired. - I'm not working anyplace.

Trudy was busy and short-handed and I offered to help out.

Well, just set it there on the counter.

I'll take it in to him as soon as I'm finished here.

Trudy says be sure it don't get cold.

I'll just take it back to him.

Fine.

Listen, pick up the breakfast tray

while you're back there, will you?

Got your lunch.

You've made my day.

Meat loaf, mashed potatoes, and carrots.

Terrific!

I don't believe this!

Are you gonna stand there and watch me eat?

What? You think I'm gonna steal the silverware?

Oh, Mrs. Hellman.

I hope I'm not disturbing you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, not at all. Would you like a cup of coffee?

I was just going in for a refill.

Oh, no, thank you. I'm already on edge.

I've just been to see Brad,

bring him some fresh clothes from the hotel.

Poor boy, he seems so depressed.

Well, yes, I suppose he would be.

- Won't you sit down? - Thank you.

Jessica, I need your help to...

well, defuse a difficult situation

before it gets out of hand.

Now, I know that you have a lot of influence

in this little community.

Mrs. Hellman, if you're asking me to use my influence

to persuade Sheriff Metzger to drop the charges

against your stepson, I can't do that.

But all the accusations against Brad

are so hopelessly muddled.

I mean, nothing can be proved. So why stir up an ugly mess?

I believe that's for the courts to decide.

Of course.

Jessica, my husband has been

under a great deal of pressure lately.

He's up for a very important post.

Now, an incident like this, even though it can't be proved,

well, you know the media, they would have a field day.

Apparently, the press was effectively muzzled

when that family was killed in the drunk-driving accident

four years ago in New York.

Oh, well, I don't know what you heard about that,

but Brad was absolved of any wrongdoing.

Yes, I understand that the authorities

were persuaded to drop the charges

against your stepson.

But I'm afraid that wouldn't work in Cabot Cove.

Mrs. Fletcher, my husband is a very powerful man.

- Yes, I'm sure. - He's also very determined.

Unless your Sheriff Metzger can wake up and smell the coffee,

he could find himself in a lot of trouble.

I don't think Sheriff Metzger is intimidated by threats.

And I can assure you I'm not.

Oh, it's not a threat, Jessica.

It's the way they play in the big leagues.

It's a fact of life.

Thank you. I won't keep you any longer.

Oh, if that sheriff is really a friend of yours,

do him a favor.

Advise him to back off.

Good night.

Is this a private party, or is there room for a friend?

Hi, Mrs. F.

I'm afraid I'm not very good company.

Me either. Care to compare notes?

You first.

I'm a little discouraged,

the way some people seem to be able to bend the rules,

particularly if they are powerful and privileged.

It's not gonna be my problem anymore.

I'm hanging 'em up.

You're quitting?

I thought you had more fight in you than that.

One of the reasons I left the NYPD was because...

I couldn't handle politics in police work.

What exactly happened in New York?

Who was Frank Casey? Was he a friend of yours?

Frank Casey was a good cop.

I'm not saying he was my best buddy.

We... We used to bowl together. I knew his family, okay?

One night, Frank and Doris and the two kids

are driving home from a movie

when a drunk driver runs a red light,

broadsides 'em.

All of 'em gone.

But the drunk driver,

not a scratch.

Brad Hellman.

I wasn't there. I didn't see it with my own eyes.

But there were people who knew.

There was a wino who saw the whole thing happen.

The medics who had to clean up the mess.

All the guys in the precinct knew the score.

But Brad Hellman's old man put it in a fix.

But surely they couldn't pretend that it never happened.

Four people were dead!

They just let it slip away.

Wino went south.

The official records were either changed or got lost.

Kid claimed somebody else was driving the car.

Anyway, Brad Hellman gets off

with a revoked driver's license.

Frank Casey and his family got a ride to the cemetery.

I'm sorry.

Stand up to them, Mort. We'll back you.

It's too late.

Brad Hellman made bail an hour ago.

He's gonna beat it again.

And if they have to smear me to make it happen,

well, I just don't count for that much.

Not if we don't let them smear you.

Not if we all fight this thing together.

Well, we'll see.

But anyway,

thank you, Mrs. F.

Come on, Billy. Get the lead out!

Wait a minute, Mickey. I'm thirsty.

Why is it that we haven't gone a mile yet

and already you're drinking all the water?

Mickey, look over there.

Yeah, I'm on top of the situation, Mayor.

Why shouldn't I be?

We sent the body over to the morgue.

Well, as far as I can make out,

it happened sometime late last night.

No, I haven't had time to inform the next of kin yet.

I've been kind of busy.

I was just on my way over to the Navarro Inn

to see you folks.

I'm afraid I've got some bad news for you.

I've already got the news, Metzger.

Somebody from the coroner's office

called me five minutes ago at the hotel.

I'm sorry.

Not as sorry as you're gonna be, pal.

What are you talking about?

If it is the last thing that I do,

I am going to see you charged with the murder of my son.

You wanted to see me, Mr. Mayor?

Uh, yes.

Well, that is to say, no. I mean, not me.

It's Lieutenant Powell here who wants to see you.

State Police, Criminal Investigation Division.

Yeah, well, I didn't request anything.

Somebody at the state capital apparently thought...

our situation needed some oversight.

I'll be conducting the investigation.

You'll find my authority spelled out

in this letter from the state attorney's office.

Yeah, well, thanks for the offer,

but I'll be investigating Brad Hellman's murder myself.

Maybe I didn't make myself clear.

I'm here to investigate you.

Well, everyone here in Cabot Cove thinks

that Sheriff Metzger has done a wonderful job,

at least until now.

You're suspended from all official duties, Metzger,

pending formal charges.

Charges? What charges?

It's been alleged that you tried to solicit a bribe

from a prisoner, one Bradley Hellman.

You've got that one backwards, pal.

And while the prisoner was in your custody,

you beat him, trying to extort $25,000 he was carrying,

which is still missing.

I don't believe this.

It's further alleged that you murdered the prisoner

either in the cell or after you released him

to prevent him from pressing charges.

What the hell is going on here?

I mean, I know his old man has got juice,

but this is absolutely ridiculous.

I'll need your service revolver

as possible evidence, Metzger.

- Hand it over. - Oh, now, that's great.

You think I snuffed the kid, and then you think

I'm dumb enough to use my service revolver?

Maybe not, but under suspension,

you have no authority to carry it.

It's probably temporary, Sheriff.

I mean, if you're cleared,

I'm sure they'll give it back to you.

You can all go to hell. I quit.

You can't quit.

Nobody in Cabot Cove wants you to quit.

What am I supposed to do?

I mean, what have I got, a sign on my chest

that says "welcome, wipe your feet here"?

Those charges are ridiculous!

Yes, but that's not the point.

The point is, those charges may be ridiculous,

but they are serious!

Oh, come on, Mrs. F.

That desk jockey cop from Augusta has nothing!

Look, somebody murdered Brad Hellman.

And you've got to find out who, all right?

For openers, why was Brad Hellman in Cabot Cove?

Well, I don't know.

He said he was just passing through.

But Mrs. Hellman said that she picked up

some clean clothes for him from the hotel.

Now, if he was staying at the Navarro Inn,

he certainly wasn't just passing through.

Hey, and what about his car?

He said that it belonged to somebody else!

Well, New York plates,

registered to a Morgan Phillips.

East 54th street.

Do you still have some friends

on the New York force who could run a check for you?

My old partner, Vinnie.

Come to think of it, he's still got my bowling shoes.

But surely there must be morgue files or something.

Well, there really wasn't very much

that got into the papers, Jessica.

Well, what about background, Haskell?

I mean, I thought New York newspapermen always had

the inside scoop on everything.

Okay. So maybe I heard some rumors.

One story I heard was that Bradley Hellman claimed

he wasn't driving the car.

Well, believe it or not,

I got that one right here in Cabot Cove.

Oh, really? Well, how about this one?

Some reporter told me that he read upside down

on some policeman's desk that there was an anonymous call

from a hysterical young woman

reporting an accident and requesting an ambulance.

Maybe the girl who was with Brad Hellman.

Well, it sure was somebody in the vicinity, Jessica.

But if she was sober enough and responsible enough

to call an ambulance,

maybe she wasn't the one who was driving.

Sorry, but I don't have a name and an address.

Well, I can't be sure, but I might have it.

Now, the car that he was driving here in Cabot Cove

was registered to a Morgan Phillips of New York City,

who Sheriff Metzger checked out

and who turns out to be a 24-year-old

of the female persuasion.

Mayor Booth explained your special qualifications,

Mrs. Fletcher,

but an automobile accident that happened four years ago

in New York City

has no bearing on my investigation

of the murder of Bradley Hellman.

Yes, but I suspect that it does, Lieutenant Powell.

And New York is out of my jurisdiction.

- But... - Mrs. Fletcher,

I have everything well in hand.

As a matter of fact, I've made a breakthrough.

I think we've found our murder weapon.

Oh, surely not Sheriff Metzger's service revolver.

No. A different caliber.

Some joggers found it on the beach this morning

not far from where the body was discovered.

The perp must've thought he was throwing it

in the ocean, but it fell short.

Oh, well, three cartridges have been fired.

Any fingerprints on the gun?

As a matter of fact, there are.

But I'm not releasing any information.

I suppose you checked

the registration number on the gun.

I faxed the registration number

to Augusta an hour ago.

- Now if you'll excuse me. - Of course.

Yes, this is lieutenant Avery Powell

calling from Cabot Cove.

Would you put me through

to records and registration, please?

That's it.

That's the number on the piece.

Vinnie, take the gum out of your mouth, will you,

and give me the last part again.

Oh, thanks. You are a prince among men.

What do you mean, I owe you?

You still owe me $10 from the World Series.

Love to Vi. Thanks, pal.

So the revolver is registered in New York?

Better than that.

It's registered to the same Morgan Phillips

who owns the car.

I think that we are starting to connect some of the dots.

Excuse me. Please forgive me for intruding.

But I did want to offer my sympathy.

How thoughtful of you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Of course, we are all in a state of shock.

When I think of that sheriff shooting our boy not once

but three times...

It breaks my heart.

Oh, this is Brad's fiancee.

She flew up this morning to be with us.

Oh, yes. It's Miss Phillips, isn't it?

Yes, that's right.

It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, you must be devastated by all this.

Did you say that you just arrived?

Yes.

She flew up in the family jet this morning.

I know that this is a very sad time for all of you,

but I was hoping to be able to have a little talk

with Miss Phillips.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but we are very late

for an important appointment.

- Please excuse us. - Yes, well, some other time.

Arnold, you remember that young man

who was murdered, Bradley Hellman?

Yeah. The family's staying here now.

Terrible thing to have happened.

Oh, yes. A tragedy.

But he was staying here before he was arrested, wasn't he?

Yeah.

Was he alone? Or was there someone with him?

Well, he was registered as a single.

Oh, yes, of course.

But that wouldn't necessarily mean that he was alone.

Now, Jessica, the guests at the Navarro Inn

are entitled to their privacy.

Oh, yes, yes, of course.

Ambassador Hellman is a very open-handed man, Jessica,

generous to a fault.

I see. A good tipper?

The ambassador and I have had a private word.

If you take my meaning.

Arnold, I wouldn't dream of asking you

to betray any confidences.

Well...

especially if they've been paid for,

but if that very attractive young woman

who was having lunch with ambassador and Mrs. Hellman

was with Bradley Hellman before,

could you, you know, let us say,

scratch your ear?

So she was with him before he was arrested

and before he was murdered?

But you didn't hear it from me, Jessica.

It's very reassuring to know that there are still people

who can be relied upon to keep a secret.

Oh, Lieutenant Powell...

Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, I don't have time right now.

What have you learned about the gun registration?

My people at the capital haven't gotten back to me yet.

Yes, but that's because it was registered in New York

to the same young woman who owned the car

that he was driving.

How do you know that?

And not only is that young woman here in Cabot Cove,

but she was here before Brad Hellman was murdered

and is lying about it.

And what about the fingerprints?

They're not Metzger's

and they're not on file with the FBI.

Well, perhaps they belong to the young woman

who owned the gun, Miss Morgan Phillips.

We know this is your revolver.

We have a ballistics report

confirming it's the murder weapon,

and we have fingerprints.

Miss Phillips, why did you say that you had just arrived

when in fact you had been here before Brad was murdered?

I have enough evidence to book you on suspicion

and take your fingerprints!

Lieutenant, if she owns the gun,

her fingerprints on it might easily be explained.

Why don't you tell us what happened?

Brad and I were engaged last spring.

My parents thought he was a real catch.

But he... He had problems.

His drinking?

Yes, yes, but it was much more than that.

He was very angry and frightened.

His driver's license was suspended,

and he needed me to drive him up here

because he said that he had something he had to do.

- So you gave him your gun? - No, he brought it.

I didn't even know he had it until we got up here.

What was it that Brad had to do here in Cabot Cove?

He wouldn't tell me.

He said that it was something that was hanging over his head

but that he could take care of it.

He said that then everything would be better

and then we'd be able to get married.

But it wasn't until we got up here

that I found out what he really wanted to do.

He was drinking, and he told me about this accident

that happened four years ago in New York.

He said that there had been a girl with him,

and she'd slipped away right after the accident.

Brad said that she could have testified against him

that he was drunk and driving.

He said she'd been blackmailing him ever since.

He said that he was sick of it.

He said...

He said that this time, he was gonna kill her.

To shut her up forever.

I was so terrified, Mrs. Fletcher.

He actually told you he intended to kill this girl?

Yes, that's what he said.

I tried to stop him! I even hid my revolver!

While he was tearing through my suitcase,

I slipped it into his, and he didn't think to look there.

He was just so angry and frustrated, he just left.

Morgan, did Brad tell you who this girl is?

The one who was blackmailing him?

No. If I'd known, I would have warned her.

It strikes me this whole story is pretty far-fetched.

I mean, we only have your word, Miss Phillips,

that this girl even exists.

Well, if this girl does exist, someone knows who she is.

Excuse me, Mr. Farrell, a message for you.

Thank you.

So it's the Costner girl.

- Uh-huh. - That fits.

Family moved to Cabot Cove about four years ago.

Mm-hmm, and Len seems to have set himself up

with a comfortable early retirement.

So what do I do now? Go in there and bust Farrell?

Well, they're going to know

that my little note was a setup.

They'll probably deny everything.

Look, why don't you go on home? Let me handle this.

Hello, Janet. Oh, hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

You know, when I was your age,

I used to love to come to this park and read.

There isn't much else to do.

No, I guess Cabot Cove isn't as exciting as New York City.

You seem a little upset.

Is it because of Brad Hellman's death?

I don't know any Brad Hellman.

Yes, I suppose you didn't know him very well.

I mean, you probably only spent one evening

with him in New York four years ago,

and it ended so tragically.

How do you know about that?

Well, let's just say that I do know.

And I'm afraid the police know too,

or they soon will.

I'm not sorry he's dead, if that's what you mean.

Somebody should've killed that guy long ago.

Would you like to talk about it, Janet?

There isn't much to tell.

I met him in a bar. He offered me a ride home.

He had a real hot car.

I should have realized how drunk he was.

I guess you know what happened.

Yes, a family was killed.

It was awful.

Is that how you hurt your leg?

It was a broken ankle.

But I managed to walk two blocks on it

to a pay phone to call an ambulance

and then my parents.

But you didn't call the police?

My parents didn't want me to get involved.

And then there were complications with my ankle.

Dad, he found out that Brad was Ambassador Hellman's son.

I wanted him put away in jail,

but Mom and Dad,

well, they said he would have to pay

for what happened to me.

And they've been paying ever since.

It was only right!

After what he did to our little girl.

It wouldn't have done Janet no good

to put him in jail.

It was only fair that they pay.

Well, I can't condone what you did,

but I think I can understand it.

They got lots of money.

Someone told me that Brad came to Cabot Cove

to settle something,

to put an end to the hold that you had over them.

Did you see him that night?

He never came here!

We had nothing to do with his murder.

We were here together watching television,

all of us, all night, and we'll swear to it.

You're not going to do anything?

There's nothing I can do. I checked out what you told me.

The Costners deny it, all of it,

and so does that lawyer, Farrell.

There isn't a shred of evidence.

No, I think that's all a sideshow anyway.

Don't forget, it's Metzger I'm here to investigate.

But you don't have any real evidence

against Sheriff Metzger.

You don't even have his fingerprints

on the murder weapon.

So he wore gloves.

The details of my investigation are confidential, Mrs. Fletcher.

That is a medical examiner's report.

And unless my eyes are bad,

it says that Brad Hellman was shot twice.

I fail to see any significance in that.

But three bullets were fired from the murder weapon.

Nothing unusual there.

It was dark, a deserted place,

so Metzger missed with one shot.

Maybe he was nervous.

Yes. Perhaps that explains it. And the gloves.

Lieutenant Powell, if you're really interested in solving

Brad Hellman's murder,

perhaps you'd like to go along with an experiment.

I suppose our little community will get a black eye over this.

But I didn't want to let you leave before I told you

how very sorry I am about everything.

That's very sweet of you, Mrs. Fletcher.

It's really a shame that your sheriff

didn't drop the charges.

If he had, well...

yes, I'm afraid things don't look too good

for our Sheriff Metzger.

Lieutenant Powell thinks that he has an open-and-shut case.

Except for one small thing.

His fingerprints weren't on the murder weapon.

Obviously he wore gloves.

Well, Lieutenant Powell already thought of that too.

That's why he's having Sheriff Metzger's gloves

tested for traces of nitrate.

Nitrate?

Tiny traces of nitrate, gunpowder,

would be on the gloves if he had fired the shots.

Of course, it's amazing what they can learn these days

from these scientific tests, isn't it?

Yes, well, I'm sure he'll get whatever he deserves.

I have to finish packing.

It was very nice to have met you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm sure that we'll meet again soon.

I guess that removes any doubt, Mrs. Hellman.

What the hell are you doing here?

Watching you burn a pair of gloves.

If you hadn't been in such a hurry,

you'd have noticed you burned the wrong pair.

I found these in your suitcase.

Faint odor of nitrate.

The pair you burned were a similar pair

that I put in there.

It was kind of a test.

How dare you go through my belongings

without any authority!

Oh, I got a search warrant.

It was all Mrs. Fletcher's idea.

Come in.

This is outrageous. What is going on here?

Mrs. Hellman, remember?

You told me that you'd gotten Brad fresh clothes

when he was in jail.

You must've gotten them out of his suitcase,

which is where Morgan said that she'd hidden the revolver.

Well?

I mean, are you suggesting that I had anything...

I'm sorry, but you gave yourself away.

When I think of that sheriff shooting our boy not once

but three times...

It breaks my heart.

Three bullets?

Yeah.

The coroner said there were three bullets in the body.

Well, I'm afraid that's another lie.

Only two bullets were found in Brad's body,

according to the medical examiner's report.

You thought there were three shots

because you fired three shots.

Apparently, one of your shots missed.

But then, of course, it was dark

and you were probably nervous.

I mean, that fact that you tried to destroy the gloves

confirms it.

I didn't marry Chandler Hellman

to watch his screwed-up son ruin our career.

The little brat was a dangerous liability.

One scandalous episode after another.

Ah, and then I realized fate had handed me

a wonderful opportunity to put an end

to the problem permanently.

When he was released on bail, I took him for a drive.

To talk some sense into him, or so he thought.

You know, he had no shame for all the trouble

that he'd caused everybody.

No idea how much I despised him

and no inkling of the solution that I had in mind.

He fell backwards into a ditch.

I drove back to the hotel,

had a hot bath and a double martini.

Chandler, as usual, had no idea that once again,

I'd saved his career.

Drink?

That is one cold and calculating lady, Mrs. F.

Yes, the longer I was around her,

the more she reminded me of Lady Macbeth.

Oh, while I'm thinking of it,

there's something I've been saving for you, Sheriff.

Well, now, are you sure

that's what you really want, Mr. Mayor?

Well, absolutely, Sheriff.

You're certain, Sam?

I'm not sure that Mort would want to continue

unless he enjoys your total confidence.

Jessica!

How can you even suggest such a thing?

I never had the slightest doubt about Sheriff Metzger.

Well, never for a moment!

Through all this unpleasantness, I was right there behind you.

- Oh, yeah. - Way behind.