All language subtitles for MrSWr716

Unless you pay what you owe me,

I'm taking you to court.

It's gonna take some pretty fancy footwork

to tap-dance around those two.

I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Have you thought of hiring a private investigator?

- Oh, who would I hire? - Harry McGraw?

Never heard of him.

There was an accident at the track.

Harry, how would you like

to slip into something just a little more comfortable?

A horse? Your surprise witness is a horse?

He's quite sensitive, you know.

Ladies and gentlemen, a spectacular afternoon

of thoroughbred racing continues now

with our feature race.

It's a $100,000 added stakes race.

The call is 'riders up',

and the horses and jockeys are coming onto the race track

for our feature race.

There's a field of eight.

Scratch number nine, Done Deal.

Seventh race post time in moments.

Please place your wagers.

Looking ahead to the eighth race, these changes.

Big Palooka...

Two hundred on Big Palooka, please.

I'm sorry, that's number three, twice.

Thank you.

Race day madness strikes again.

Canny New England lady transformed into high roller.

Oh, no. Anything over two dollars

and the butterflies in my stomach turn into hummingbirds.

This is for my friend Harry McGraw, back in Boston.

Oh, well, wait till the supermarket rags

break this scandal,

"J.B. Fletcher moonlights as bookie."

Jessica, you remember Tod, my fiancé?

Yes, of course. Tod, how are you?

Hi, Jessica.

The bravest man in Kentucky.

The bravest man in Kentucky? Oh, my!

The only trainer at the track to defy that old boy network

and hire a woman vet.

Well, the real reason I hired her

was so I could see how she looked

at 4:00 a.m. emergencies before I popped the question.

I see.

And have you set the wedding date?

Sure. The day after we get our respective fathers

to stop feuding with each other.

- Oh. - Well, then we better elope.

The only way those two want to bury the hatchet is in each other.

Would you like to join us?

I'd love to.

Hi, honey.

Lot of luck. Yeah.

Have a nice day.

Yeah, the same to you, honey.

What? What?

Oh, really?

Oh!

Oh, I really am sorry to hear that.

Hear what, Miss Emmaline?

Big Palooka,

he just said he has this monstrous headache.

Ah. He didn't happen to slip you the winner, did he?

Why, Lamar Morgan, that's complete nonsense.

Horses can't predict the future.

Did you just say Lamar Morgan?

- Hello. - Hi.

Are you the Lamar Morgan of Morgan Hill farm?

Why, yes. What can I do for you, young lady?

I have something for you.

Oh?

You all have a nice day, now, you hear?

What's wrong, Lamar?

Randolph Sterling.

But, Randolph, honey, sailing the South seas

would be just about the most romantic cruise ever.

Tod can manage the farm.

I can't spare the time, Althea.

It'll just be for a few weeks.

And after that, all the cruises are booked solid.

Only thing I want booked solid is King Paragon.

When a horse costs me six million dollars,

nobody handles the breeding but me.

I swear, I do not understand your fascination

with arranging sexual liaisons for horses.

Just keep in mind, my dear, it's those liaisons

that buy the beautiful baubles

that put that sparkle in your eyes.

- Daddy! - There you are, Diana.

Wonderful news.

King Paragon's coming out party.

I just managed to wangle an introduction

to some very wealthy Japanese.

Mmm.

Althea, make sure Edie orders in some sake.

Why, Diana, how sweet.

You promoted me to your daddy's caterer.

Here comes your brother and his sweet little friend,

the horse doctor.

My, don't they make a handsome couple, though.

Tod's so good-looking and Christie's so full of life

and just exuding all that virginal purity.

What would you know about that?

Jessica, you remember the squire

of Sterling Stud, my father, Randolph.

Oh, yes, of course. How nice to see you, Randolph.

The pleasure is mine.

It's been far too long, Jessica.

Thank you.

My dear friend, Althea Mayberry.

- How do you do? - My daughter, Diana.

Hello. My goodness.

You know, the last time I was here,

it must have been ten years ago,

and you were away at university somewhere.

Cambridge, before they threw me out.

Luckily, I had a bridegroom waiting in the wings.

Yes, I remember reading about your wedding in the newspapers.

You were married to an Earl?

Lord. Lord Snowcroft.

After a few years, I threw him out.

Sterling, I want a word with you.

Just what in the hell does that mean?

It means, Lamar, that unless you pay what you owe me,

I'm taking you to court.

I don't owe you a damn cent, and you know it.

You have two foals in your place sired by King Paragon.

Fees and punitive damages

should come to about half a million,

give or take a dollar or two.

Dad, there's gotta be a way to work this out.

Sure, he can write me a check.

For what? I didn't ask my mares

to be bred by King Paragon.

No, somebody arranged a conjugal meeting

in the dead of night?

Well, it sure in hell wasn't me.

That, old friend, remains to be seen.

I am not spoiling my day. Jessica.

See you in court, Lamar. Come along, ladies.

Oh, I tell you, it was quite a shock coming out that morning

to find King Paragon with Daddy's mares.

Lord knows how he got here.

But if the Sterling Stud is right next door,

isn't it possible that King Paragon just jumped the fence?

No, no. He's always locked in his stall at night.

But I can't understand why nobody saw it.

There were no witnesses,

stable hands, watchmen, somebody.

Well, if anybody saw, they're not talking.

And our local police haven't been

much help, that's for sure.

Have you thought of hiring a private investigator?

Who would I hire?

Oh, they are beautiful!

But, my goodness, a half a million dollars

is a high price to pay for siring a couple of foals.

Not when you remember that King Paragon

won both the English Derby and the French Grand Prix.

Oh, but half a million's way more than Pops could pay

even if he wanted to.

We've had a couple lean years.

What if he loses the suit?

Then he loses the foals and probably the farm.

You know, Christie, I have an idea.

Maybe this calls for an out-of-town investigator

who isn't easily intimidated

and who has an abiding passion for horses.

- Breeding? - Betting.

Coming around the far turn, it's Elmo's Flyer,

then Bobbin Dobbin and Horizontal Two-Step,

with Titillating Tillie coming up on the outside...

Go for it, baby!

Bless Dinty Fella is moving up fast.

Yeah?

Harry McGraw? Never heard of him.

Harry, it's Jessica.

Oh, hi, Jessica, how you doing?

Hey, thanks for placing that bet for me.

Harry, I'm sorry your horse lost.

Yeah, well, that's why they call him Big Palooka.

So what's up?

Well, if you want to recoup, I have a job for you.

Titillating Tillie overtakes Bobbin Dobbin...

Well, I'm not in the market for a job right now.

See, the thing is, I got 500 bucks on the nose

on a sure thing at Suffolk Downs.

And this is straight from the horse's mouth.

In the stretch, Titillating Tillie takes the lead...

Hang on, Jessica. I just got another call.

Bobbin Dobbin,

and now Bless Dinty Fella starts to make a move.

Come on, baby. I love you, I love you.

Go for it! Go, Tillie!

Bless Dinty Fella moves up along the rail

as Titillating Tillie slips back behind Elmo's Flyer!

Hang in there! What are you doing, running backwards?

At the wire, it's Bless Dinty Fella,

with Elmo's Flyer to place and Infirm O'Purpose to show.

So, Jessica, that job, what is it and when do I start?

Well, gee, Randolph, you know how much I'd like to oblige.

I said no postponements, Harley. You hear?

But they've got to have time to prepare their defense.

I want that case on your calendar now.

And try to remember which side your ballot is buttered on.

Why, sure, Randolph.

Oh, to hell with that, Martha Jane.

Give me a straight shot.

There's an afternoon session in ten minutes.

Add some mint. Let's call it a julep.

It's going to take some pretty fancy footwork

to tap dance around those two.

Randolph Sterling may have political clout,

but Lamar Morgan is one of the most beloved

men in this county.

You know, Martha Jane,

I've been feeling real poorly lately.

Doc says I ought to take some time off,

maybe relax, go fly-fishing.

Or get impeached.

Oh, very nice!

You're going to take the enemy camp by storm.

Thank you, if Harry ever gets here.

Maybe I shouldn't have wired him the money for the fare

while the track was still open.

Look, I realize that this family squabble

is very hard on you and Tod,

but things are beginning to look up.

Look at all these people who are shopping for horses.

Maybe that's him.

Miss Morgan? Harlan McGraw III of Boston, Massachusetts.

How do you do?

Better now that you're here, Mr. McGraw.

Please come in.

Hiya, Jessica. You ready to roll?

Harry, you really look...

well, words fail me.

What she means is she's surprised

that I'd have threads this sharp in my closet.

The fact is, I borrowed them from a friend

who owes me a favor.

That was very nice of him.

It certainly was. Did he know about it?

Well, the fact is, he's out of town.

Which is why I'd like to get these duds

back to Boston by Friday,

which is when he comes back from Vegas.

Well, Friday, that's not very long.

What, digging up a couple of witnesses? Piece of cake.

Shall we, Miss Scarlett?

A pleasure, Mr. Rhett.

- Have a nice time. - Thanks.

Harley!

I was just talking to the boys

about a fundraiser for your re-election.

That's mighty nice of you,

and I do appreciate that very much.

And if anything untoward should happen

in my suit against Lamar Morgan,

it could pay for your retirement party, hmm?

Oh, hey, how about one of those

filled up with ginger ale, huh?

And try to make it a good year.

You appear to be a stranger.

I'm partial to strangers.

Hey, whatever turns you on.

I'm a friend of the host.

Oh, that's quite a coincidence.

I'm a friend of one of the guests.

I'd go easy on the bubbles if I were you.

Ages the skin, darling.

And while we're on the subject, you could use a touch-up.

Thank you, Lady Chatterley.

Lady who?

Diana is a Lady by marriage only.

If you'll excuse me.

Oh, thanks.

Hello, Harry. You know Tod. This is his father.

Randolph Sterling, Mr. McGraw.

Ran... the Randolph Sterling?

The guy who owned Randolph's Rebel?

The same.

Hey, whatever happened to that nag?

He's still standing at stud.

First time I saw him, he was left standing at the gate.

It was the sixth at Rockingham, July 9th, ten years ago.

Six furlongs.

He had the rail, broke last,

but still managed to finish fourth at 16-to-1,

in one-twelve and a fifth.

You've got quite a memory.

I never forget the ones I lose a bundle on.

Yes, Harry is thinking of investing in racing stock

instead of tickets.

I'm surprised you haven't steered him

to your friend Lamar Morgan.

Hey, when it comes to horses, you gotta go for the class,

and I hear you got the classiest stud in Kentucky.

How about a gander at him, huh, Randy?

I think that's a wonderful idea.

Where is King Paragon, Randolph?

Ladies and gentlemen, the guest of honor,

King Paragon!

The name says it all.

You all know his breeding and his race record.

You also know how rare it is

to get in on the ground floor of a syndicate

where the yearly return on each share, foal or fee,

is $100,000 to begin with.

And with this noble beast, the sky's the limit.

Wow, 100 grand for just...

yes, Harry, "just."

Poor King Paragon. He's so dreadfully unhappy.

Yeah? How do you know?

He told me so.

He tell you why?

Well, wouldn't you be miserable

if your body were used in that dreadful fashion?

An all-American champion.

Now, I'm sure that some of you are very anxious

to see King Paragon's first foals, but...

My foals, Sterling!

They're my foals, and they are in my field!

Lamar, may we discuss this later, please?

No, we're gonna discuss it right here and now.

You figured you would get me into a real bind

by turning King Paragon loose with my mares.

Oh, ho, that's very clever,

but you're not gonna get away with it,

'cause I'll see you dead first.

- Come on, Mr. Morgan. - What?

Let's get some fresh air.

Fresh air. Don't forget.

Jessica, Miss Emmaline, ladies.

So much for family loyalty.

Tod's not back from the track yet.

Oh, I wish he hadn't let Pops take off alone.

Well, he thought that your father was coming home.

But I wouldn't worry yet, Christie.

I mean, it's only a half a mile away,

and there aren't any reports of accidents.

And if anyone can track him down, Harry will.

Now, can I get you something? A cup of tea?

No, thanks.

- Hello? - Good news, kid.

Your old man's safe and sound.

He's swapping stories in a gin mill

called Grogan's Backstretch Tavern.

Listen, why don't you and Jessica

go put on the old feedbag,

and I'll bring him home as soon as I can pry him loose.

Okay. Hey, and Harry? Thanks.

Your dad's all right.

Better than he'll be tomorrow morning.

Morgan Hill.

Oh, hi, Tod.

What, honey?

- Okay, I'll meet you there. - Trouble?

Yeah, there was an accident at the track.

Tod's vanning a filly back to his farm.

You know, Jessica, I hate to leave you here alone.

If you give me a minute, I'll go change and I'll go with you.

- If I won't be in the way. - No.

No, I don't treat all the Sterling stock.

Just the ones that Tod trained.

But you know the security code?

Oh, yes. In fact, Tod's father was convinced

I was the one who let King Paragon loose

to get at the mares.

Looks like Tod's not here yet.

Might as well wait inside, huh?

Jessica.

He's dead.

Well, Tyrone, near as I can make out now,

he's been dead for at least a half an hour.

I can pinpoint it better after the autopsy.

Blow to the head caused by this?

Could be.

Ma'am.

Ma'am, please don't touch anything.

Oh, I'm not touching. Just reading.

What is it, Jessica?

Well, it's a note to Randolph Sterling from Althea Mayberry.

"Randolph, I knew Diana resented the idea

of any other woman becoming mistress of Sterling Stud,

but I never thought you'd allow her

to usurp my role as your hostess.

Randolph, I cannot put a price on my hurt and humiliation,

"but I'm sure that my attorney can. Althea."

What is it? What happened?

Diana, don't come in here. Just...

My God. It's Daddy!

He did it.

Her father.

He said he would do it, and he did it.

Diana, we don't... we don't know that.

Somebody threaten to kill your daddy, ma'am?

You're damned right, sheriff.

Lamar Morgan, this afternoon.

You were there, Mrs. Fletcher, you heard him!

Oh, but I'm sure Lamar didn't mean it literally, Diana.

Of course he didn't, Diana.

Pops couldn't kill anybody, and you know it.

I'll tell you what I know.

Your pops telephoned while I was on the way to the airport.

He said he had to talk to Daddy.

Oh, Tod, I was in such a rush, I didn't think. I...

I'm never going to be able to forgive myself.

I told him that Daddy was here

and he must have come here and killed him!

Hey, hey, it's okay.

I'm gonna take her back to the house.

I'll get your statements later.

I can't tell you how sorry I am about all this.

Come on. Let's go.

Well, suppose you ladies tell me

what brought you visiting this time of night.

Oh, my gosh, I forgot all about the filly.

Excuse me.

Tod called her about an injured horse,

and when we got here, Mr. Sterling...

what about Lamar? He at home?

No, no, he's with a friend, Mr. McGraw.

Sheriff, I'm quite sure that you noticed a couple of things.

Things? What things?

Well, for instance, that jacket over there.

There seems to be a bloodstain on the left sleeve.

Well, I mean, it doesn't seem likely

that he would have been wearing it when he was struck down.

So I suppose the question is,

when did the blood get on it and how?

- If it is blood. - Yes.

It certainly looks different from the dark stains

on his hand and on the sleeve of his shirt.

Oh, I seen them. Oh, yeah.

You'd have to be blind not to.

Lab boys will check all that out.

Mrs. Fletcher, I've heard about you.

Now, poking around in police business in the big city,

that may be fine.

But down here,

well, we really don't appreciate

a lot of civilian interference.

Yeah. Well, I'll certainly keep that in mind.

See, the fact of the matter is,

I got me a water moccasin by the tail here.

I'm gonna be tiptoeing on eggshells just to keep my job.

Christie!

Last stall on the right.

Oh, it's Mr. Padley.

- Good evening, Mrs. Fletcher. - Good evening.

What happened to King Paragon?

Oh, rapped his ankle going over a fence, he did.

Kicked his door down.

By the time I got here, he was out in the pasture,

running around with the yearlings.

Hmm. I wonder what happened to make him do that.

Who knows.

Maybe it was that bloody awful row going on in the office.

I don't suppose you recognized any of the voices.

Not likely.

I was off on the run to get His Highness here.

By the time we got back, it was all over.

Wasn't until the sheriff's people showed up

that I learned what happened.

It's a rotten shame.

Fine gentleman, Mr. Sterling was.

Oh, Christie. Let me help you.

Hi, Jessica. Oh, thanks. I won't be a minute.

Mmm-hmm.

Derek, do you want me to take an X-ray of that ankle?

Oh, he'll be all right.

Well, I've got a machine

that'll take that swelling down faster.

Look, miss, I've been with this horse

since he was a green thing, just off the farm.

He's had harder knocks than this.

And I don't trust those new bloody machines, anyway.

Ice will do just fine, won't it, boy?

Translation, "I don't trust a woman vet."

And how's your patient?

Bone chip. Prognosis, excellent.

Jessica, I'm not nearly as worried about her

as I am about Pops.

I just hope he wasn't anywhere near this place tonight.

♪ My old Kentucky home ♪

♪ it's summer ♪

♪ the feelings are good ♪

♪ corn top's ripe ♪

♪ and the meadow's in bloom ♪

♪ and the birds seem merry all day ♪

Hi, sheriff. What can I do for you?

Oh, weep no more today

you can help us put him in the cruiser.

Since when is it a crime to drink good Kentucky bourbon?

Just who are you, mister?

I'm the designated driver.

Let's see some ID.

Is there some kind of problem?

I don't know. Is there?

Private investigator.

What's your business here, Mr. McGraw?

None of yours, sheriff.

It is if you're trying to cook up

an alibi for Lamar Morgan.

An alibi? For what?

Murder, maybe.

♪ Old Kentucky home ♪

It's true, Jessica.

I did go over there.

But why, Lamar?

Because it was too easy for Randolph to hang up the phone

before hearing me out.

You see, one of the folks who came by to see the foals

offered me a half a million dollars for one.

But they had to have an answer by today.

So I proposed to Randolph that he lift the injunction

and I'd place the sale proceeds in trust

until the court could decide our case.

He said no, and you popped him one, right?

Derek Padley, King Paragon's groom,

said that there was a terrible row going on.

We had words. Loud ones, too.

And they were loud enough for neither one of you

to hear King Paragon kick his door out?

Good Lord, no.

Something like that would have stopped us cold.

Pops.

I'm okay, honey.

I'm fine. Just fine.

Jessica, I can smell the wood burning.

Harry, if King Paragon could kick himself free last night,

he could have done it before.

Now, maybe it was his idea

to mate with the Morgan mares.

Yeah, maybe he wasn't quite as miserable

as Miss Emmaline figured.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher,

we may talk a mite slower down here,

but our lab's just as good as they come.

Those stains on Mr. Sterling's hand?

Nothing but old-fashioned hair dye.

Hair dye?

But Randolph's hair was gray.

What about the stains on the jacket?

Oh, those were blood, sure enough.

But it weren't Mr. Sterling's.

Now, the way I figure it,

when the lab compares them to Lamar Morgan's,

I'm gonna have the lid nailed on this real tight.

I want to thank you so much for your help.

You all have a nice day, you hear?

I think his lid's a little loose.

Let's face it, Harry, things don't look good.

Yeah, maybe.

Suddenly, I can smell your wood burning, Harry.

What is it?

Something he said about hair dye,

a subject on which I happen to be an expert.

You know, bottled blondes, carrot tops

and raven-haired brunettes.

- Who is it? - Room service.

Hi, Althea.

I thought maybe we might have a little private wake

for Randolph Sterling.

Come in, Mr. McGraw.

It'd be so nice to have a strong shoulder to cry on.

I must look a fright.

No, you look terrific.

It's just infuriating to know that if I hadn't let

that conniving little Diana mess things up,

I'd be the widow Sterling by now.

- The rich widow Sterling. - Mmm-hmm.

But Randy seemed like a pretty classy guy.

He must have left you something in the will.

Small comfort, knowing what a chunk

Miss Piggy will be getting.

Miss Piggy, huh?

I thought you called her Lady Chatterley.

That was a literary allusion.

Harry, how would you like to slip into something

just a little more comfortable?

Oh, like what?

Like my bedroom.

Well, I've always been partial to brunettes.

You know, you got gorgeous hair.

What color do you call that, anyway?

Whatever it said on the bottle, darling.

Oh, is that why Diana made that crack

about you needing a touch-up?

- So what? - Nothing.

I was just wondering if maybe

you were touching up your hair with dye

when Randolph came to see you after the party.

You some kind of mind reader or something, Harry?

No, just a wild guess... but, actually,

he did have hair dye on his hand and his shirt cuff.

His cuff, huh?

I was aiming the bottle at the skunk's head.

Oh, what happened?

After he left, you wrote him a note

and delivered it to him at his office.

What'd he do, tell the innkeeper

that you'd have to pay your own rent from here on in?

You think I'd let any man treat me like that?

No.

Not if there was a heavy walking stick nearby.

- Get out! - Okay.

- Get out! - Okay, I'm going.

I'll take a rain check on the tour of the boudoir.

Ciao, honey!

Wow, half a million on the hoof.

So tell me, Jessica,

you ever hear of a dame named Lady Chatterley?

Why, Harry, I never knew that you had a literary streak.

I don't, but that's what Althea called Diana,

and I figured that it wasn't much of a compliment.

Ah. Well, Lady Chatterley was a character

who was created by DH Lawrence.

She had an affair with her husband's gamekeeper.

Well, that's screwy. I mean, Diana's not married.

I haven't seen any gamekeepers around here.

Maybe not so screwy, Harry.

Diana was married to Lord Snowcroft,

who has a very large estate in England.

Yeah? He into hunting game?

Into racing horses.

Hello. It's Edie, isn't it?

- Yes, ma'am. - Is Tod around?

Oh, no, ma'am. He's gone to the track.

You know, business as usual.

Oh, my goodness, you're not planning to wash

all these windows, I hope.

That's a big job.

It's what they pay me for, but...

Mrs. Fletcher,

is it true what I heard that they arrested Mr. Lamar?

Yes.

Well, now, that is just out and out nonsense.

I mean, he is a fine gentleman, just like Mr. Randolph, and...

well, it's just truly a shame

that those two have started into feuding

after being friends all those years.

Well, it must be very hard on Miss Christie.

Oh, yes.

And on Diana, too, I suppose.

Well, maybe yes, maybe no.

I mean, ten years in England did not improve her manners

or her disposition.

Ma'am, I am not one to gossip,

and I certainly didn't mean to eavesdrop, but...

well, since I hear that you are trying to help Mr. Lamar,

I guess you should know this.

I heard hollering in the den the other night

when I was helping to clean up after the party.

And Diana was angry with her father?

Oh, no, it was just the other way around.

He was angry with her.

Well, he said that...

Well, she just never did have any taste in men.

And he'd be damned if he'd let her throw any more money away.

And she said, well, it would be her money someday,

so why couldn't she just spend it any way that she wanted?

Well, he told her not to be so sure.

She said he'd be a fool to leave it

to her turncoat brother,

who was defending Lamar Morgan against his own father.

Miss Diana screamed at him!

Daddy, can't you see what Christie's done to him?

Tod hates your guts!

Edie, think back. This is very important.

When Mr. Sterling came home for dinner,

did you notice any stains on his jacket

or on his shirt cuff?

Oh, no, ma'am.

I mean, if there had been just so much as a spot,

he'd have gone upstairs and changed.

I mean, Mr. Randolph...

well, he was very particular about his appearance,

even down at the stables.

It was just the kind of man he was.

Ma'am.

It's truly a shame he didn't use the same kind of care

dealing with his family.

McGraw, you're supposed to be an investigator.

What about this lawsuit?

Lawsuit, my Aunt Tillie.

What about you in the slammer for murder?

Tyrone is stomping around out there making threats

about court orders to force you to cooperate.

What's this all about, Pops?

Hell, he just wants me to give some blood,

and you know how I hate needles.

I think maybe you better get your dad's lawyer over here.

Right, Lamar?

Maybe you better, honey.

Pops.

The thing is, it is my blood on Randolph's jacket.

He got there when we mixed it up in his office

and he hit me on the nose.

Sweetheart, get the lawyer.

This sheriff, you sure he read you your rights?

He's not that dumb.

Look, McGraw, I didn't kill Randolph.

Like I said, we mixed it up a bit,

but you couldn't really call it a fight.

He bloodied my nose and I decked him.

So why is the sheriff still holding you?

I mean, he wasn't killed with a fist.

No, he was killed with that fancy walking stick.

And now it's got two sets of prints on it.

Randolph's and mine.

They got your prints on the murder weapon?

We had words.

What kind of a fool do you think I am, Lamar?

Anybody gets those foals, it's gonna be me.

And as long as that injunction stands,

you can't sell them or race them.

Damn you, Randolph.

I thought we could settle this like gentlemen.

I forgot you were a high-handed,

four-flushing son of a carpetbagger.

He bloodied my nose, so I took that damn stick

away from him and I decked him.

And then what?

Well, I walked out.

And what about Sterling?

The last I saw, he was on the floor, cussing me out.

I got through to the law office.

Mark Mason's on his way.

I'd be a lot happier if his first name was Perry.

- Uh, anybody else? - No, thanks.

You know, one thing doesn't make sense to me.

I had one hell of a shouting match with dad

right outside King Paragon's stall.

Horse didn't turn a hair.

Well, if we believe your father, and I do,

then someone else came into that stable

soon after your father left, very soon.

Yeah, but who else besides Lamar was mad enough

at your old man to ice him?

Well, we do know one thing.

Whoever went to the office either had to

have been admitted to the premises

or had known the entry code.

Wasn't there a security guard on duty?

Old Lester.

He always took catnaps in between rounds.

We all knew it, but dad never had the heart to fire him.

It must have been more than a catnap to have missed

that quarrel and King Paragon kicking the door out.

Well, the fact is, Mrs. Fletcher, Lester was smashed.

Smelled just like a brewery.

Speaking of which, I'd better go check on the new guy.

I'll go with you. I need to look in on the filly.

- We'll be back soon, Jessica. - Thanks.

You know, I really feel sorry for Tod.

Losing his own father

and now being concerned about Christie's.

Yeah. Not to mention maybe being responsible

for the whole thing.

- Tod? Responsible? How? - Come on, Jessica.

It reads like a B-movie.

The guy goes gaga over this girl,

he knows her old man's got money problems,

so he decides to play matchmaker

for a couple of his mares.

I'll lay you nine-to-five the beef he had

with his old man was over the lawsuit.

No. If Tod had been responsible,

he would have said so.

Jessica, people tend to clam up

when there's money involved,

and this kid's inheritance ain't exactly carfare.

You know, Harry, I have an idea.

Do you have any contacts

with the British horse racing community?

Well, I know the guy who makes book

for the Prince of Wales. Is that what you mean?

Well, could you call him, get some information?

Sure. Hey, what Irving don't know about horseflesh

doesn't exist.

But it's gonna cost you.

I mean, Irving's favorite charity is Irving.

Harry, it's only three o'clock in the morning in England.

Oh, this guy never leaves his phones or his computer.

- Well, when does he sleep? - Sleep? What's that?

Yes, let me have information for London, England.

What do you wanna know?

I beg your pardon, Miss Morgan?

You want to have this preliminary hearing held where?

In a stable at Sterling Stud, your Honor.

My dear child, may I remind you that your dad

is being held on a charge of murder in the first degree?

This request, at least to me, sounds capricious.

Excuse me, your Honor, but this entire case

revolves around a horse named King Paragon

and his mysterious disappearance

from the stable in question.

And the outcome of this hearing

could affect my father's trial.

Whoa, there, Miss Christie.

This case must be heard on its own merits,

and quite apart from the other charge.

My client agrees to that, your Honor.

Sir, Sterling Stud agrees with the defense request

to hold this hearing at the farm.

You realize, son, you're going along

with what appears to be a delaying tactic.

Only in the interest of justice, your Honor.

Justice, my foot!

There'll be no stalling and no hearing

without my participation as one half

the surviving family of Randolph Sterling.

No hearing, sis? Well, that suits me just fine.

Let's call the whole thing off right now.

- No. I want it settled now. - Agreed.

We'll hear opening statements at 2:00 p.m. in the courtroom.

Meanwhile, in as much

as there's a lot of hot air in here,

I suggest we first enjoy some fresh air

out at Sterling Stud.

Thank you, your Honor.

Well, don't thank me yet, young lady.

There better be a damn good reason

for this inconvenience to all of us.

Oh, there is, Sir.

The fact is, Mrs. Fletcher

has been able to come up with a surprise witness.

Surprise witness?

What surprise witness?

A horse? Your surprise witness is a horse?

Oh, not just any horse, Diana,

but a horse we all know as King Paragon,

and he alone may be the only witness

who can sort out this terrible maze of contradictions.

Oh, this is outrageous!

The stupid animal can't even think, much less talk!

Really, Diana, you'll hurt his feelings.

He's quite sensitive, you know.

And you all know that Miss Emmaline

has a doctorate in animal behavior.

My God, how irrelevant can you get?

Oh, knock it off, Justin.

My father's friends will not take kindly

to this subversion of justice.

That remark was uncalled for.

Your Honor, my client is only...

He's trying to influence the Judge.

And I will remind you, Sir, that my father has

a lot more friends than hers did,

and they are behind him 100%.

Now, hear this, everybody.

I'm going to listen to this testimony with an open mind.

You may begin, Miss Emmaline.

King Paragon, do you remember what happened

the night Mr. Sterling was killed?

He said yes.

It's a trick.

Do you remember kicking your way out of your stall?

I told you that, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, since Mr. Padley verifies the horse's story,

you may continue, Miss Emmaline.

Had you ever done that before?

Had you run off like that to have a moonlight visit

with Lamar Morgan's mares?

Your Honor, this is just their sleazy way

of avoiding stud fees.

Getting the horse to say it was his idea?

Miss Emmaline?

He said the question was insulting.

He's quite busy fulfilling his contractual duties.

He doesn't have to go chasing after it at night.

Excuse me, your Honor, but whether the horse

went to the mares of his own accord

or whether he was led is immaterial.

Morgan Hill farms does not owe Sterling estates any stud fees.

Mrs. Fletcher wants to know if your name

is really King Paragon,

or if in fact your name is actually Knight's Sword.

Excuse me, but this is madness.

Knight's Sword? He's dead.

He was struck down by lightning.

It's on record at the English Jockey Club.

Yeah, sure, just before you were supposed to ship

his full brother, King Paragon, to Sterling stud.

And what do you know,

it turns out that both horses were owned by Lord Snowcroft,

who sold King Paragon to Randolph Sterling.

Yes, and both very reputable horsemen.

Sure. But what if King Paragon had died

instead of Knight's Sword?

That's impossible.

Hey, I'm just supposing here, sweet face.

I mean, you can't ship a dead horse.

Especially with six million bucks riding on it.

So somebody gets a bright idea.

A quick dye job on Knight's sword's White sock,

switch the papers, and lo and behold,

King Paragon is alive and well and living in Kentucky.

Isn't that why you didn't want to X-ray the horse

when he was hurt, Mr. Padley?

An X-ray would have revealed the old injury

that kept Knight's Sword from racing.

- Utter rot. - No, I don't think so.

But I also don't think that Randolph Sterling

had any idea about the deception

until the night that he was murdered.

I suspect that he caught you in the act of touching up

Knight's Sword's white marking.

He'd already quarreled with Diana over

her romantic involvement with you,

but this was far worse.

This was a matter of family honor.

He would have to expose the whole fraudulent scheme,

and you, Mr. Padley,

had no intention of going to jail.

So you jerked the walking stick away from Randolph

and struck him with it.

The horse panicked at the smell of blood

and kicked his way through the door.

You moved Randolph back to the office

before you chased after the horse.

No!

Those fingerprints on that bloody walking stick

are Mr. Morgan's and not mine.

Of course. You wore gloves

to protect your hands from dye stains.

And I found these in the horse's tack box.

Everybody who works around horses uses those.

Yeah? Does everybody work where the straw covers up

dye and bloodstains?

Damn you, Derek!

You told me Lamar killed him!

Easy, Di. Easy. Easy.

It's okay.

You know, I'm real proud of you two.

You pulled off that scam like a couple of pros.

Scam? What scam?

Well, you know, where you used the wires

to make the horse's head move and make him nod up and down.

Oh, but, Harry, there were no wires.

No wires?

No, wait a minute, wait a minute.

That doesn't make sense, I mean,

if you and the horse were talking all this time,

how come he never told you his real name?

Oh, I asked him about that, Mr. McGraw.

He apologized, and he explained that he likes it here.

He didn't want to be shipped back to England.

It's much too cold.

McGraw, you did one hell of a job.

Well, after Althea clued me in,

it all started falling into place.

I mean, Lady Chatterley had her gamekeeper,

and Lady Diana had her horse keeper.

It's simple if you know your DH Lawrence.

Ah.

But tell me, why did Padley bring the horse over

to service our mares?

Oh, that's easy. Because...

Well, why don't you tell them, Jessica?

Well, he wanted to make trouble.

Not between you and Randolph, but between Tod and his father.

You see, Diana and Derek wanted to run the syndicate.

Now, she knew that Tod would take your side in a dispute.

And with Tod out of the picture,

she felt that she could talk her father into it.

Harry, we should start leaving for the airport.

Jessica, thank you.

- Harry, come back and see us. - Thank you.

We'll see you in three years, if not before.

Oh, what's in three years?

Oh, the chestnut foal will win the Derby.

Yeah? Who says?

Knight's Sword told Miss Emmaline.

- Yeah? - I'm buying the chestnut foal.

Keeping it in the family.

Wait, wait a minute, didn't Miss Emmaline say

that horses can't predict the future?

Oh, no.

Fathers can always tell when they have a special child.

You're kidding me.

He's putting me on, right?

Harry, you know what they say,

there are more things between heaven and earth

than men dream of.

And just in case I don't get back.

You, Jessica, you're betting 20 bucks?

On the nose, Harry.

After all, I mean, this is one tip

that came straight from the horse's mouth.