All language subtitles for MrSWr715

What does the IRS want?

The usual. Money.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

The IRS can't find the money

we withheld from the first two quarters?

You saying the IRS doesn't have two quarters

- to rub together? - That's blackmail.

We may take your car and your house.

We may send you to jail.

We'd never do anything as unsavory as blackmail.

And what did you get?

I got rid of Nolan.

I've read your stuff.

Which one of my books have you read?

Your books? I'm talking about your tax return.

Put your hands up.

You must believe me, Sir,

I don't know how the mistake was made.

Give me time. I'll get to the bottom of it.

I've never cheated on my income tax.

Never.

Before now.

Mr. Yelverton, I'm a consultant

with my ex-wife's company.

Now, they pay me...

see line 16, paragraph C.

Their accountant screwed you.

I mean, me.

I'm glad you brought up Edna Hayes.

You know, Mr. Hayes, in my business there are oversights

and there are oversights.

Mr. Hayes, we're not out to get you.

We want to help you

if you will help us.

Well, yes, of course, Sir, I...

Not your taxes.

Aunt Edna's Baked Goods

claimed to have deposited $2 million

in quarterly withholding taxes.

Our records indicate otherwise.

My ex-wife owes you $2 million?

More or less.

Help us to find it, and we'll...

we'll forget about your little oversight.

Mr. Yelverton, that's blackmail.

Mr. Hayes, we may take your car and your house.

We may send you to jail.

We'd never do anything as unsavory as blackmail.

Edna? It's me, Jessica.

My plane landed about 20 minutes ago.

Oh, Jessica, Jessica.

My goodness, can you ever forgive me?

Oh, I forgot to send the car to the airport, I forgot...

wait a minute. You are on your

Midwest book promotion tour, aren't you?

Oh, yes.

Well, at least I remembered something.

Oh, Jess, it's just been living hell for me,

what with the IRS hassle,

the loan, trying to run the plant.

Well, Edna, now be honest.

I mean, have I come at a bad time?

You sure have.

But I can't wait to see you.

I'll grab a taxi. Bye.

What with 1,500 employees nationwide,

from whom we collect taxes

and then have to pay the IRS quarterly.

Now, the remodeling loan comes due,

so the problem with the IRS is even more difficult.

Edna, slow down.

I have just landed, and you've gotten me up in the air again.

Now, start at the beginning.

But, Jess, I wasn't in at the beginning.

My first recollection of any problem with the IRS

came about a month ago,

when George Harris, my vice president,

stopped me in the parking lot early one morning.

- We need to talk. - What is it, George?

Something's wrong either in accounting or payroll

or with our auditing firm.

It just won't go away.

- What does the IRS want? - The usual. Money.

I thought it was just a misplaced decimal point,

some kind of snafu

that you didn't need to be bothered about.

It's an awful lot of paperwork for a misplaced decimal point.

That same morning I sat down with Gail Manning,

she's head of accounting,

Richard Wellstood, our in-house attorney,

and J.K. Davern, sales and marketing exec.

How can the IRS want $2 million when we've already paid them?

Gail, what is going on in the accounting department?

I don't know, Edna. I've gone over this

with the IRS, with our bank in St. Louis,

- and with Spencer Prinz. - Who?

He's with the auditing firm

that handles the payroll in St. Louis.

We regularly deposit

the withholding taxes of the employees in St. Louis,

and then they are, electronically,

the money is passed along to the IRS.

Now, at the end of a fiscal year,

the IRS can't find the money

we withheld from the first two quarters, $2 million?

It takes them several quarters to catch up.

We're now in the fourth quarter,

and they want quarters one and two.

You saying the IRS

doesn't have two quarters to rub together?

Neither will you, Richard.

Sorry, Edna.

But are you prepared to take on the government in tax court

to prove Aunt Edna doesn't owe Uncle Sam?

Edna, if this were my company, now is not the time that

I would choose to challenge the Internal Revenue Service.

If you're planning a takeover, thanks for the notice.

I started this firm on 500 bucks and 24-hour work days.

No pointy-headed bureaucrat

is going to make me roll over and play dead.

Then the government

may very well take the company away from you.

And the loan on the plant remodeling comes due next month.

What does one thing have to do with the other?

Edna, if you have to pay the IRS twice,

there's no money to repay the loan.

Yes, Dottie?

Uh, it's, uh...

it's my ex-husband.

It's something supposedly important.

Would you excuse me, huh?

Put him on, okay?

What is it, Nolan? I'm a little busy now.

Edna, love, I hate to bother you,

but it's about our divorce settlement.

That's why they call it a settlement, Nolan,

because once and for all, things are settled.

Thanks to me, you have been hunting and fishing

for the past three years.

My quarrel's not with you.

It's with the IRS, and the consultancy fee you pay me.

You mean you're in hot water too?

They're demanding that I pay taxes on $300,000 income.

300,000?

I thought that the deal that we worked out pays you only one.

Granted, your divorce lawyer had me over a barrel,

- but not in it. - Some fellow

in your auditing firm named Spencer Prinz

is supposed to help me out, but I keep missing him.

All right, I'll have Gail Manning deal directly with you,

not with some nobody auditor.

Thanks, Edna.

Kind of romantic, isn't it?

You and me brought back together by the internal revenue?

It's not exactly romantic, Nolan.

It's more like a shotgun wedding.

About a week later, things came to a head

when I confronted the Internal Revenue Service.

A faceless bureaucrat.

He had a face. Your worst nightmare.

Mrs. Hayes, stonewalling's

not going to get you anywhere.

Who's stonewalling?

I came from Jonesburg of my own free will.

Nobody comes here from anywhere

of their own free will.

Look, I'm asking for $2 million.

In the past, I've been commended by my superiors

in Washington for exacting sums

the size of the annual budget of a third-world nation.

Don't push me. I've got a senator friend

in Washington who can have you sharpening pencils

in a fourth-world nation.

Look, Mr. Yelverton,

Mrs. Hayes has always paid her fair share.

She employs 1,500 people. She supports the arts.

What do you do at Aunt Edna's Pies, Mister...

He happens to be one of my vice presidents.

- And chief morale officer? - Now, what is that

supposed to mean?

Look, Mrs. Hayes,

let's just settle this whole thing

before the lawyers make a killing.

Nothing personal, Mr. Wellstood.

He's right, Edna.

With the loan almost due, a settlement is worth exploring.

Absolutely not.

That would be admitting that I'm a thief.

You said it, not me.

I will see you in court, Buster.

And if you or any one of your cronies has pocketed the money,

I'll also see you in jail!

Let's go, gentlemen.

And then what happened?

And then the phone rang.

It was you, at the airport.

Edna, you and I have known one another

since we were in college together.

Now, I know that you did not form this mini-empire

by keeping two sets of books.

I'll fly in from wherever, and when your case comes up,

I will appear as your character witness.

That's very kind of you. But I'm afraid, Jessica,

it's going to take more than kind words

to get me out of this mess.

And this is a picture of me with a congressman

I tried to help re-elect.

My Campaign contributions

helped buy him a houseboat off the coast of Costa Rica.

And he never even sends me a christmas card.

Hmm!

'Scuse me, Edna, Mrs. Fletcher.

I just thought you'd like to know Spencer Prinz,

the auditor from St. Louis, was in this morning.

J.K. and I had a good session with him.

Later today, he visits the IRS with the payroll records.

Better him than me.

Thanks a lot, Richard.

Sure.

- Nolan, good to see you. - Richard.

Nolan, what an unexpected, uh...

Treat? Hardly befits one's ex,

but hello, Edna.

Jessica, it's been too long.

Nolan. I'm truly sorry

that things didn't work out for you two.

Thanks. Edna, I need to talk to you.

Alone, if you don't mind.

Oh, no, no, if this is about our tax problems,

Jessica knows all about it.

Well, the IRS is really turning up the heat on me.

Let me guess. They want to cut a deal.

You divulge pillow talk

and creative bookkeeping at the highest level,

and in return you're a free man, huh?

Well, you know I'm no hero, but let's help each other.

Whatever you can give them...

our old returns, cancelled checks.

And if there's anything that I can turn over to you,

- call me day or night. - I shall, Nolan.

Do you have my car phone number?

My secretary has it.

Jessica, stay well.

What can I say, Jessica? Just didn't work out.

I imagine it was difficult for him, being...

- Mr. Edna Hayes. - No, the problem was

he enjoyed being Mr. Edna Hayes.

Jessica, we usually conclude our little tour of the bakery

in the freezing room with some dessert.

Oh, please, no more pastries.

Where is he? George, did you see Spencer Prinz?

No. Sorry.

There he is. Spencer!

You forgot the W4 forms.

Wait up! I'll walk you to your car.

Oh, George, this message for Edna was laying on my desk

when I came back from lunch.

- Is she around? - Oh, here I am, Gail.

- Can I help you? - Yes. A message.

Oh, thanks.

Oh, what does he want now?

- The IRS? - No, it's Nolan.

But he's running them a close second for headache of the week.

- If you'll excuse us. - Thanks, George.

Jessica, I'm afraid

I won't be able to take you to the concert tonight.

Oh, don't worry about that, Edna.

- I'll be perfectly fine. - But I feel awful

because I know how much you love Sibelius,

and I specifically asked them to play Finlandia.

You mean, they take requests?

Well, we do underwrite the season, you know.

We gotta keep the string section in rosin.

Pardon me. I just got the cupcake survey.

J.K., could I ask you a big favor?

Do you think you could take Jessica to the concert tonight?

Be happy to.

You know, two of our bakers are in the woodwind section.

They even read music.

Oh...

He's dead.

No wallet on him.

Car is registered to an Edna Hayes.

Dormitory rules absolutely for bad cooking.

So when we baked brownies in our room--

Yes. I hid 'em under the bed.

My mattress sagged and stuck to the fudge topping.

And from this humble culinary beginning,

an empire was born.

Well, some of us have bosses to face

early tomorrow morning.

Well, thanks again for joining me at the concert, J.K.

It's after 11:00. It's awfully late.

- Mrs. Hayes? - Yes.

According to the registration,

Jaguar, license plate MCR6475, is registered to you.

- Is that right? - Well, we have a company car

that's leased, you might say, to my ex-husband, why?

There's been an accident, Ma'am,

and the driver has no identification.

Could you come with us, please?

Is it Nolan?

We don't know, Ma'am.

Is he hurt?

Would you please come with us, Ma'am?

Yes, that's Nolan.

Lieutenant, could you tell me what happened?

No secret. The railroad tracks are a bad area.

Your husband was driving alone,

got a flat, took out a jack to change it.

Some thug, thief or wino shot him and took his wallet.

That's the way she looks.

Of all the times Nolan thought he could change a tire

in that neck of the woods.

Was the gunfire overheard by anyone?

You know, a witness?

Nobody lives out there. We couldn't find a soul.

Edna, you said, "of all times

Nolan thought he could change a tire."

You knew Nolan.

He couldn't open a can, let alone change a flat.

Which makes me think,

if he couldn't change a flat, why was the jack out?

Isn't that what you said, lieutenant?

There was no pay phone or gas station around.

Mr. Hayes had to give it a try, wouldn't you say?

Actually, no, I certainly wouldn't say.

Edna, after lunch Nolan said

that you could reach him on his car phone.

So why didn't he stay safely in his car

and call the gas station or the auto club?

You also said that nobody lived out there.

So what was he doing driving out there in the first place?

We plan to run ballistics and fingerprint tests

as a matter of course.

A lot of questions will be answered then.

Mrs. Hayes, how long have you and the deceased been divorced?

Three years.

Was the parting friendly?

Lieutenant, these questions hardly come under the heading

of ballistics or fingerprint tests.

It's all right, J.K. Lieutenant,

we each got what we wanted out of the settlement.

Nolan got the farm, a car, and an annual consultant's fee.

And what did you get?

I got rid of Nolan.

Right, Doc. I got it.

Is that right?

It wasn't a nail, after all? The tire was slashed?

Look, if you're one of them

pain-in-the-tail St. Louis reporters,

I still don't have a thing on the Hayes murder.

Okay?

I'm Field Director Yelverton, Internal Revenue Service.

I'll call you back.

Uh... Mr. Yelverton, Sir.

I thought my IRS problem was over. I mean, I...

they said they wouldn't repossess my car if I--

Relax, lieutenant. I'm here about Nolan Hayes' murder.

Oh.

The murder. Great!

Uh, coffee?

Decaf? Tea?

I think we still have a Danish. Ha.

No. No, thank you.

You know, lieutenant, the IRS has lost a key witness

in its tax case against Aunt Edna's Pies.

You may not be aware. Mrs. Hayes owes us $2 million.

$2 million!

Well, I guess repossessing her car is out.

- You catch on. - You say Hayes was a witness?

Are you familiar with the term "Juda's goat"?

Sure.

And Mrs. Hayes was gonna be the lamb chops.

I'd like to be the first to hear of any developments.

Well, you know, actually, Sir,

the IRS has no jurisdiction in Hayes's murder.

Are you still driving that '84 Buick?

I'll be in touch.

Jessica, thanks so much for helping

with Nolan's funeral arrangements.

He had no one, you know. I know.

Mrs. Hayes, I'd like to have a word with you.

Kind of goes along with a couple of things

you mentioned, Mrs. Fletcher, if you'd like to join us.

Right this way.

Did you know your ex

was gonna testify against you in tax court?

Well, I'm not surprised, lieutenant.

But you're wasting your time

if you think that I had a motive to kill him.

Lieutenant, it's only an IRS claim

that Mrs. Hayes owes any money.

Sounds to me like you don't own a car.

Mrs. Hayes, my department found blood

on the jaguar's rear seat,

and the flat tire got that way

because of a six-inch knife slash.

What are you saying, lieutenant?

That Nolan was killed elsewhere?

About 9:00 and driven to the tracks.

And what about the ballistic tests

that you were going to run?

Waiting word on them now.

Naturally, I'm questioning everyone who knew him,

like their whereabouts last night.

Miss Manning, Mr. Harris and Wellstood were at home...

they say.

J.K. Davern was at a concert,

with you, Mrs. Fletcher, I believe.

That's right.

And what about you, Mrs. Hayes?

Where were you last night around 9:00?

I was home alone.

- That so? - Yeah, I got home around 7:30.

I was waiting for Nolan.

He'd called the office that afternoon

and said he would be coming by at 9:00.

He obviously didn't.

And then Jessica and J.K. returned about 10:30.

By yourself from 7:30 to 10:30. That about it?

- Mm-hmm. - Can anybody vouch for you,

Edna? I mean, a phone call you got

or somebody who wanted to borrow a cup of something?

Yes. Actually, the doorbell rang about 9:00.

I don't know where he was from, but it was some delivery man.

He had the wrong house, and he left.

I see.

A delivery man you don't know from a place you don't know

didn't drop anything off at around 9:00.

Look, lieutenant, if I thought I needed an alibi,

I would have invited him in.

Mrs. Hayes, there may be a few more questions,

- so please... - Look, lieutenant,

I have a company to run.

You know exactly where you can find me.

I'll be in touch.

Jessica, let me get you a car to take you to St. Louis.

I don't want you to have to postpone your radio interviews

- on my account. - Edna, you have got

very important business to attend to.

Yeah, stalling the loan company.

- It'll just bore you to death. - No, I mean Nolan's death

and your alibi or lack of it.

You don't really think that I need an alibi?

Edna, it's not important what I think.

Lieutenant Phillips is a man with a mission.

It's his job.

Now this delivery man,

was there a sign on the side of the van?

Was he wearing a uniform from some store?

I don't know. The doorbell rang.

I was expecting Nolan, but I live alone, and you never know.

So I said, "who is it?"

And the voice said, "delivery for 485 North Plainview."

Well, I realized he had the wrong address, so I said,

"this is 485 South Plainview," and I heard him walk away.

Well, I knew he was lost, so I opened the door,

and he was in the shadows, you know, by the curb.

I pointed out the right way. He thanked me, and left.

But I... I could never describe him.

Hmm. Well, it's a start.

It is?

Why, yes, I did get a delivery the night before last.

A pizza.

And where did the pizza come from?

Sons of Sicily. "We deliver."

It was cold enough to have come from Palermo.

Thanks very much.

Come on, Marty, will you hustle up here?

I got calzones on the thing.

Come on!

Sons of Sicily, this is Sal. What can I do for you?

Yes, good evening. My name is Jessica Fletcher.

Yes, Ma'am. What's your address?

Well, actually, I'm calling about

a delivery man of yours.

Now, two nights ago he went to 485 North Plainview.

Oh, great. If this is another complaint

about Benny getting lost... I fired the guy this morning.

Oh, that's too bad.

So what kind of pizza do you want?

Well, actually, I want Benny's last name and a phone number,

- if you have one. - Lady, come on,

what do I sound like, a dating service here?

- Oh. - Well?

Looks as if Benny's lost again.

Mrs. Fletcher. Mrs. Hayes.

Well, you certainly put in a full day, lieutenant.

Your tax dollars at work.

Mrs. Hayes, do you happen to own a gun?

Guns frighten me. I wouldn't have one in the house.

Ah. Our ballistics report just came through.

A .38 caliber killed your ex-husband.

I see.

Mrs. Hayes, we may not be big city police

like up in St. Louis, but we know how to

read state records.

A .38 is registered in your name,

bought about three years ago.

Hayes is a very common name. Re-read your records.

Lieutenant, would you mind

if I had a word alone with Mrs. Hayes?

Why not?

Edna, this isn't the dorm mother

asking why we're late for curfew.

This is the police.

Well, surely you don't think that I killed Nolan.

Well, of course not.

And if you tell me that you don't own a gun,

I will believe that too.

Jessica, I cooperated with the IRS,

and where did it get me?

I could get a search warrant.

It won't be necessary.

After the divorce, living alone in this big house,

I thought I should have it. I never fired it.

Look, lieutenant, I'm sorry I lied to you.

I... I haven't been myself lately, I...

Mrs. Hayes, one bullet has been fired.

- Pretty recently too. - Are you quite sure?

Don't take an expert, Ma'am. Give a whiff.

I don't understand it, lieutenant.

I never fired that gun!

Have to read you your rights, Mrs. Hayes.

Got a little 3-by-5 card someplace with the exact words.

Oh, lieutenant, this is ridiculous.

You can't charge Mrs. Hayes with murder.

Kind of funny, Mrs. Fletcher, before I ran into you,

I was content calling it flat tire and robbery.

Here you go. Fresh-brewed just a few minutes ago.

And I brought you some extra butter for that Danish.

Even from behind bars, Mrs. Hayes has to pay her taxes.

Selling pies from stir won't be easy.

She won't have to lift a finger.

We'll do it for her.

Has a nice ring. Uncle Sam's Baked Goods.

Excuse me, I'd like to visit Mrs. Hayes.

Would you fill this out for me, please?

Yes. Thank you.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Yes.

I've been looking forward to meeting you.

- I've read your stuff. - Oh?

Gerald Yelverton, IRS field director.

You've got a hell of an imagination,

- if my opinion counts. - Well, thank you.

Which one of my books have you read?

Your books? I'm talking about your tax return.

Oh.

Nothing personal. Mrs. Hayes has to pay

- what she owes. - If she owes it.

You know, it's occurred to me

that if you're planning to write this trip off

as a business expense, the big stores

and the television stations are in Kansas City and St. Louis

- and not around here. - Mr. Yelverton,

I was under the impression that what I did

or didn't write off was my business.

Common misconception.

Excuse me, lieutenant.

Ah, Mrs. Fletcher.

Still friends, I hope.

Lieutenant, this morning I spoke to Edna's attorney,

who told me that Edna's gun

had been wiped clean of fingerprints.

So she wiped them off.

Isn't that what you would do after you'd shot someone?

Well, frankly, I would have thrown the gun away,

not left it by my bed for the police to find.

But if I had been foolish enough to keep it,

what difference would it make

if my fingerprints were on my gun?

Look, prints or no prints,

it was her gun, and I'm proceeding accordingly.

Lieutenant, that pizza being delivered,

is that from Sons of Sicily?

No, we usually call Mr. Pizzazz.

Uh-huh. And besides those two,

about how many other pizza places are there in Jonesburg?

I don't know, two or three more.

- You hungry? - Yes. For an alibi.

Would you, by any chance,

have a telephone directory I could look at?

Right here.

What are you up to, Mrs. Fletcher?

I've decided that I would like to order some pizza,

if I can find the right man to deliver it.

A-ha, here's Alberto's Pizza Emporium. "We deliver."

We'll start there. And if we're lucky,

we'll find Benny working for the competition.

Thanks to Mrs. Fletcher,

we found Benny delivering for the competition.

Check off this box.

We'll return your purse and things.

I was just doing my job, Mrs. Hayes.

- You understand. - Your job.

His job, Edna.

Now, the way it looks, a damned clever killer

saw to it that you were left to twist slowly in the wind

without an alibi.

And I helped him,

making Jessica go to the concert with J.K. Davern.

- Gail? - Yes, Mrs. Fletcher?

The other day, you gave Edna a message that Nolan had called.

- Right. - How did he sound?

- Sound? - I mean, was he nervous,

- upset? - Oh. I didn't actually

speak with Nolan. There was a message on my desk

- when I got back from lunch. - Well, who put it there?

- Your secretary? - No, I don't think so.

Patty had a dentist appointment that day.

She left early. She took a long lunch.

So anybody could have put it on your desk.

Possibly as part of an attempt to frame Edna for murder.

You know who it could have been?

It could have been Spencer Prinz.

He's the auditor from St. Louis.

He doesn't come here very often, but when he does,

he usually works through lunch, when no one's around.

Maybe he took the call.

I'm sure that's what happened, Gail.

I told Spencer to use your desk during lunch,

'cause he had to go over some payroll records.

You know, an outside auditor like Spencer

has to grab a telephone and desk wherever he can.

And where is this Spencer Prinz now?

Well, he's probably on his way back to St. Louis.

He was here a minute ago.

You know, this is almost funny,

if Edna's predicament wasn't so serious.

What is?

Well, this mysterious Mr. Prinz.

I mean, the other day he was here during lunch,

hardly anybody saw him.

Now he's on his way back to St. Louis.

That's where his home office is.

Well, I admit I did catch a glimpse of him.

But the fact is that everybody sees Spencer Prinz except me.

Well, a little birdie

didn't bring these checks from St. Louis.

Then you did see him?

Well, let me think.

No.

He gave the checks to me.

Mrs. Fletcher, the police and the IRS

have both talked to Spencer in their offices.

And if his car is still here, you can talk to him too.

Spencer! Spencer!

There he is.

There he goes.

Gail, get Spencer's home number

and address in St. Louis for Jessica, will you?

- Yes, Sir. - J.K., we're gonna be late

- for that sales meeting. - Yes.

This is really brutal, Mrs. Fletcher.

If we pay the loan, we can't pay the IRS.

If we pay the IRS again, we can't repay the loan.

Computers, electronic banking, auditors.

It was a lot simpler when people actually dealt with money.

These days, nobody knows a damn thing.

Maybe there is somebody.

Somebody who gets paid to know everything.

Mrs. Fletcher. This is indeed a pleasure.

I must say, in my 20 years with the service,

you may be the first person

who's ever dropped in on me voluntarily.

Thank you, Mr. Yelverton.

I must confess, I'm still a little uncomfortable.

Every tax payer is.

Even relatively honest ones, like yourself.

Please, sit down

and unburden yourself of those two-martini lunches

you used to call business.

I'm sure we can straighten everything out.

I didn't come here about my tax returns, Mr. Yelverton.

Oh, really?

I'm trying to track down a man named Spencer Prinz.

Now, everybody sees and talks to him but me,

and I need your help.

Help? My help?

Goodness, nobody ever asks for my help.

Well, I was told that Spencer Prinz met with you.

Oh, yes, I summoned him

with the books from Aunt Edna's Baked Goods.

Naturally, he complied. They all comply.

And what was he like?

Like all of them; nervous, sweaty,

afraid to look me in the eye.

But harmless, really.

Quiet fellow with glasses, given to bow ties.

Say, you don't think that little cog in the wheel

actually pulled off a $2 million tax swindle

and a murder, do you?

Mr. Yelverton,

far be it from me to ask you to snoop...

but you want $2 million,

and the police want a dangerous killer.

And when you think about it,

isn't that the way that the IRS helped the police

finally nail Al Capone?

"Scarface" Al Capone.

Those were the days.

Prinz...

let's see what we've got.

This isn't snooping, exactly.

This is T-men in action.

Ha!

Social security number...

yes, yes, Ma'am.

These are the years he was filing his taxes

when he was a resident in Illinois...

'85, '86, up to '87.

I don't like this. I don't like this at all.

He paid us every cent he owed us.

Even filed early each year.

Ah, here's where he transferred a year ago

to the auditing firm in St. Louis.

Oops. My mistake.

Wait a minute.

I... I've lost him. In St. Louis?

No, hold on. Spencer Prinz!

It's not my mistake. We don't make mistakes.

He's not lost. You found him?

No, ma'am, you found him for us.

He didn't file this year.

Of course, he hasn't.

Not someone who's just embezzled $2 million!

Well, for once, I tend to agree with you.

Excellent, Mrs. Fletcher, excellent.

I'm sure Spencer Prinz

will be a lot easier to put behind bars than Al Capone.

Well, I wouldn't count on that, Mr. Yelverton.

First, you're going to have to find him.

Ha!

Of course, Roy, I'm overextended.

But you know what this business is worth.

All I'm asking for is a short-term...

yes, Roy.

Damn it, there are jobs at stake here.

I am not going to throw all these people out of work.

Fine, you just have your meeting with the Loan Committee

and call me when they turn me down!

Even Roy, huh?

That parsimonious jerk.

I don't know how the bank stays afloat with him in charge.

Where's Jessica?

I thought you and she were going over the books.

She went to St. Louis with that police lieutenant

to try to track down Spencer Prinz.

She's got it in her head

that he's a figment of someone's imagination.

I gotta tell you, J.K., I'm beginning to agree with her.

He isn't here, mister. What else is new?

Certainly looks as if he had quite a party last night.

Poker. Bunch of slobs...

chips all over the floor, rings on the table.

Oh, well, that's what I get paid to do.

When's the last time you saw him?

See him? I never see him.

Never?

Oh, yeah, a few months ago, when he hired me.

But since then, never.

He's always working whenever I'm here.

He leaves me an envelope with cash in it

on that table over there. I see.

And this Mr. Prinz... what does he look like?

Look like? I don't know, he's kind of medium size,

medium build, glasses,

moustache, and... oh, yeah, he wore a bow tie.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Looks like Prinz is our man, after all.

Take a look, Nolan Hayes's wallet,

credit cards, driver's license.

But this makes no sense, lieutenant.

If you embezzle $2 million,

why would you steal a wallet, but keep it laying around?

It wasn't laying around. It was hidden.

I'm putting out an APB on Spencer Prinz.

White male, glasses, moustache, bow tie.

I'll also have the local police stake out

both here and the airport.

If it's not too late.

This is like cramming for finals.

Yeah, but there's no way of making it up in summer school

if we don't find the buried money by tomorrow morning.

Oh, it must be a power failure.

But this light is on.

Don't move, ladies.

Put your hands up!

And step back.

The ghost returns.

Spencer Prinz, I presume?

That's right.

I'll just relieve you of this slightly incriminating volume

and be on my way.

You did steal the money, didn't you?

Oh, yes. And I was forced to kill

your ex-husband, Mrs. Hayes.

He found out what I was doing.

A foolish and greedy man.

Now don't force me to use this again.

Step into the closet.

He's gone.

I'll dial 911.

Please, get a hold of lieutenant Phillips right away

and have him come to Aunt Edna's Factory.

Tell him that we have found Spencer Prinz

and that he's armed.

- Be careful. - Come on, Jessica.

Edna, the man has a gun.

That was a shot!

Richard, what happened?

I came by to help you go through the books.

I saw Spencer running toward me.

He had a gun.

He told me to freeze.

As he was going by me to get in his car...

I don't know where I found the courage... I tackled him.

We fought for his gun...

it went off.

I've never even held a gun in my life...

much less killed a man.

That's odd.

Look at his hair.

Looks like a wig.

It's J.K. Davern.

He was Spencer Prinz? He killed Nolan?

This is unbelievable.

He had me completely fooled.

But when you think about it, it makes perfect sense.

J.K. designed our computer marketing,

our billing, our payroll systems.

He could easily bury $2 million.

Edna...

the gun. Please pick it up.

Be careful with that, Edna.

I want you to cover Richard.

- Cover me? That's ridiculous. - What?

Do it. Now, Edna, do it now.

If you say so.

Don't be absurd.

I shot Prinz, but I...

I mean J.K., but it was self-defense, obviously.

No, Richard. What is obvious has finally got through to me.

Unless my eyes are totally gone,

the gun you said that you picked up from J.K.

is not the same gun that was pointed at us inside.

Of course, it is.

It was less than a minute

from the time we heard the shot until we got here.

Thirty seconds isn't much time to hide a gun.

I know guns, especially when one's pointed at me

and I'm staring down its barrel.

There are two guns there, Wellstood.

- How do you explain that? - I don't.

What must have happened is Spencer Prinz...

sorry, J.K.

left the bakery, pocketed his gun,

and then was shot by Richard point-blank.

Richard hid J.K.'s gun in the waste barrel

and tried to make us believe the gun he brought

was the one that J.K. threatened us with.

Total nonsense. I don't deny shooting Spencer Prinz,

but I was as surprised as anyone

to learn he was really J.K. Davern.

No. I believe that you and J.K.

trotted out the fictitious Spencer Prinz

one more time tonight for my benefit.

Jessica was the only one who was curious enough

to want a face-to-face encounter with him.

It seemed odd that the outside auditor's appearances

at Edna's company were limited

and always verified by you, Richard, or by J.K.

in other words, it took two men to create the third employee.

An elusive man with an apartment, a maid, a car,

and a passion for bow ties.

My first glimpse of Spencer Prinz was from quite a distance,

when you called to him that he forgot the W4 forms,

then offered to walk him to his car.

A couple of days later,

when my curiosity about Spencer Prinz grew,

this time it was you, Richard, who dressed up as Spencer.

J.K. tried to stop Spencer

before he drove back to St. Louis.

But, as usual, we were all a few steps behind.

And, as usual, either you or your partner

were vouching for Spencer's whereabouts.

The catch was that no one ever saw all three of you together.

There's something wrong, Jessica.

J.K. escorted you to the concert

the night that Nolan was killed.

So he couldn't have killed Nolan

and yet he confessed the murder to us that night in my office.

Yes, but when he confessed,

he did not know that he was going to be double-crossed.

Lieutenant, you can't take any of this seriously.

That's where you're wrong, Sir.

I buy it, and I think the DA will, too.

Would you like to call your lawyer now?

Or maybe you'd like to tell us how it happened.

I'd go easier on you.

Damn it.

We were so close.

Only J.K. and I knew the real Spencer Prinz,

who was about to transfer

from chicago to St. Louis one year ago.

A week before he was due to arrive,

he died of a heart attack.

That's when J.K. and I hatched the scheme

to steal the tax deposits by keeping Spencer alive.

When the fiscal year was up,

Spencer would disappear without a trace,

taking with him all the blame

and $2 million.

Okay, but why did you have to kill Nolan Hayes?

J.K. got greedy.

He forged a $200,000 payroll check to Nolan

and cashed it to himself.

He figured it would take the IRS forever

to catch up with the tax problems it would cause Nolan.

It didn't.

Nolan was desperate for answers,

so after getting the run-around

from Spencer Prinz by phone,

he came to our office to see Spencer in person.

One of the secretaries must have told him Prinz just left.

Nolan tried to catch up to him.

J.K. was taking his turn as Spencer.

As he was getting into the rental car

to pretend to drive back to St. Louis,

his wig was accidentally knocked loose.

And as he replaced it,

he didn't see Nolan staring in at him,

observing the metamorphosis.

Nolan turned and ran back inside.

That's when he made his fatal mistake.

He came directly to me and said,

"no wonder Edna was having problems.

"Never mind two sets of books.

Her company had two sets of employees."

J.K. and I had to act quickly. Of course.

And since Nolan was making waves for Edna,

why not frame her for the murder?

We set up the bogus telephone message,

leaving Edna without an alibi.

I went to her house, entered through a rear window

and took the gun we all knew

she kept in her bed table drawer.

I drove out to Nolan's farm.

I called into him. He came out...

surprised to see me.

I shot him,

put his body in the car,

drove to the tracks and took out the jack

and... made it all look like a flat tire and robbery.

I returned the gun to your house

while you were with the police late that night.

Once Mrs. Fletcher got you off the hot seat

and became suspicious of Spencer Prinz,

we shifted the blame for embezzlement and murder...

to the perfect fall guy...

the man who didn't exist.

We came close.

The IRS has billions, Edna has millions...

J.K. and me, we just...

wanted a piece of the pie.