All language subtitles for MrSWr3E05.Corned.Beef.and.Carnage.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

If a sandwich was delivered,

well, it could help to establish the time of death.

Corned beef for everybody!

You're gonna have dinner with Grover Barth tonight

and he'd better come in here tomorrow morning

with a big smile on his face.

The account can be had.

There's a $100,000 bonus in it for you.

Myron inherits the business.

Which certainly won't be worth much without the Corned Beef Castles account.

Grover didn't care much for the campaign you laid out this morning.

You're under arrest for the murder of Larry Kinkaid.

We're goosing up the 18 to 34 demographics by, um...

Seventeen million impressions.

If we can squeeze the franchise holders

another 2% of gross for advertising,

we're going to have Grover Barth's corned beef sandwich

over the billion served this year.

Well, that's impressive, Larry, but...

how much is it gonna cost?

Well, we haven't fine-tuned it yet, Grover.

But rough cut? $11 million.

Oh, by the way, Grover... Ah...

We still don't have your John Hancock

on the renewal contract.

Now, I know you had a lot of details to attend to and everything,

but we're down to two weeks on the old agreement.

Well, I'll just glance this over and get it back to you,

get the little woman's input, you know.

Oh, yeah, yeah.

Listen, why don't you have Polly join us for lunch?

Fine.

That's a beautiful blouse, Victoria.

Just kind of sets off that peaches-and-cream complexion.

Listen, I'll lay on a reservation for four.

You're really gonna love this place.

See ya.

He didn't like the presentation

and he's stalling on that renewal contract.

But he likes you, Victoria.

I want you to sit next to him during lunch.

I'm sorry, Mr. Kinkaid. I won't be able to make it.

I'm having lunch with my husband and my aunt.

She's visiting us.

Would you forget the family reunion?

We're talking survival here, kiddo!

Françoise, I read about that place in The New Yorker.

Apparently half the advertising deals on Madison Avenue

are cooked up at the tables over lunch.

Yeah, three martinis, a salad,

and your name in Advertising Age for dessert.

Maybe we should eat there.

Why not?

I'm sure Victoria can put it on her expense account.

Oh, part of the privilege

of overpaying for the penthouse suite,

you get your own elevator.

Hold that. Hold the elevator.

- Uh, wait-- - I'm sorry.

- That's all right. - Hi, Howard.

You landed anything yet?

I got a couple of things working, yeah.

Uh, I'd like you to meet Jessica.

Jessica, this is Aubrey Thornton,

another one of Larry Kinkaid's galley slaves.

How do you do?

This is Jessica Fletcher, Victoria's aunt.

Ah, a wonderful kid, your niece.

She's got everything to go the distance in this racket,

brains, youth, good looks,

and a very high threshold for humiliation.

The only thing she's short on is guile,

but Larry's giving her lessons on that.

Am I right in assuming

that you're the resident cynic, Mr. Thornton?

Well, I would be, but I don't have tenure.

Oh, I'm going to get downstairs before all the best barstools are taken.

Nice to meet you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Good luck, Howard.

Bye-bye. This way.

Some place, huh?

Hi, Howard.

I called her. She's on the way.

Thanks. Let's go over here and sit down, okay?

- Aunt Jessica? - Victoria.

Oh, I am so impressed!

My goodness, a penthouse suite, account executive.

You're going to have to bring me up to speed

on life in the fast lane.

But how about a pit stop first down at Françoise?

Oh, Aunt Jessica, I'm really sorry,

but, uh, we've got a crisis,

a command performance for the client,

and I won't be able to have lunch today.

- Oh. - That's swell.

Aunt Jessica comes all the way down from Maine

and you can't fit her into your schedule.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no. It's all right.

Business comes first.

Look, why don't I stop over and we can all have dinner together?

Wonderful. You'll stay with us.

Oh, can we make it late-ish?

- Um, say, 9:00? - Perfect.

What Polly's saying is that what with the renewal coming up and all,

we're just sort of wondering

who's minding the store, creatively?

Larry, we know you did your best,

but Grover didn't care much

for the campaign you laid out this morning.

Well, I just thought it lacked imagination.

I mean, it's exactly the same thing we did last year,

only with bigger budgets.

Well, I'm glad to hear you say that, Grover,

because I think it's time for a whole new approach,

a totally new concept.

Fresh, exciting, power-packed,

a radical marketing strategy

based on a new creative concept.

For example?

I'm going to scrap the entire presentation I showed you this morning, Grover.

I want you and Polly in tomorrow.

I'm going to lay out a whole new campaign.

It's going to blow you away.

Well, darling,

maybe we'll be able to renew the account with Larry after all.

I'll certainly drink to that.

I guess we'll be working together a lot.

$50 million a year in advertising billing.

Leland, that isn't chopped liver.

Another 50 million, even chopped corn beef

would look very good on the balance sheet, Christine,

especially when I take Biddle Advertising public next year.

The account can be had.

There's a $100,000 bonus in it for you

if you can bring that account into the office.

Did I hear you say "Vice President"?

If you deliver.

To the corner office.

Oh, my goodness!

Talking business makes my nose shiny.

If you gentlemen will excuse me...

Good idea. I'll go with you.

You know, uh, Polly's going to be spending the night

with her sister in Queens.

Her sister can't abide me.

Oh, then you and I will have dinner.

Well, actually, Larry, I was thinkin' more about

splittin' a chateaubriand with Victoria.

There's something about that young filly

that brings out the stallion in this old horse.

And I bet you could explain to her

just how important this is for her future on the account.

I'll make sure she understands.

Everything's fine.

I mean, Victoria. She's got a great job.

Her career's going through the roof.

Considering she's got an unemployed actor for a husband, she's doing great.

Oh, Howard.

What have I got to complain about?

So big deal. She's supporting me.

I mean, just because we hardly ever see each other,

she's working late most nights.

You know, she does look a little tired.

You know, that Larry Kinkaid, he uses people.

He burns them up and then he throws them away.

For all I know, one of these days,

he's going to ask Victoria to put her body on the line for a client.

Oh, Victoria is too levelheaded

for any of that sort of thing.

Jessica, I love her so much.

I feel like she's slipping away from me.

I mean, if it was just me, I could go on with--with nothing.

But she's got a real shot

and I could never stand in the way of her career.

Please, Jessica, don't tell her I said anything.

But, Larry, I've told you as the controller of your company

and you don't want to hear.

Now I'm telling you as your own brother!

Later, Myron.

I don't have the time right now.

You're spending more money than we're taking in.

Receivables are running 60 days in arrears.

And your major account, the Corned Beef Castles,

Larry, we're holding nearly $4 million in unpaid media bills

that Barth hasn't paid for us yet.

Oh, uh, I'm sorry, Mr. Kinkaid.

I know you're very busy,

but I've been working up some new ideas--

Yeah, yeah, sure, fine.

Why don't you just, uh, leave 'em on the desk?

Larry, why wasn't I notified

about the Corned Beef Castles presentation this morning?

'Cause you're no longer on the account, Thornton.

Corned Beef Castles is my account, Larry.

I brought you that account three years ago.

A mom and pop delicatessen in Buffalo.

You were over your head then, you're over the hill now.

If you don't like the way I run this agency,

why don't you quit?

That's what you want, isn't it?

Well, let me tell you something, Larry.

I've got a contract.

You can't cut it anymore, Thornton.

I think Aubrey has a lot to contribute.

Some of his ideas are very good.

Victoria, darling, you're a smart kid,

but an advertising genius, you're not.

You know why you're on this account?

You're on this account because Grover Barth has the hots for you.

That's why he's taking you to dinner tonight.

I have other plans tonight.

Listen, sweetheart.

You're gonna have dinner with Grover Barth tonight

and he'd better come in here tomorrow morning

with a big smile on his face,

'cause you don't have a contract.

Mr. Kinkaid, you may own this agency,

but you don't own me.

You're the one who accepts all the fancy awards,

but it's people like me and Aubrey

and Phil Conklin, God rest his soul,

who have always ground it out for you.

But not anymore. I quit.

I don't need you. I don't need any of you.

I am still the best advertising man on this street.

I'm going to work here tonight, all night, if I have to.

And tomorrow morning,

when Mr. and Mrs. Corned Beef Castle come marching in here,

I am going to show them a new campaign that's gonna knock their socks off!

Now get outta' here, all of you!

Mr. Kinkaid, your secretary seems to have wandered off.

But we did have a four o'clock appointment.

Come in, please.

That man is impossible.

Well, at least you don't have to worry

about Larry stabbing you in the back,

he always gives it to you right in the chest.

Uh...

Take a friendly word of advice, Victoria.

Don't quit until you've lined something else up.

Howard and I are surviving paycheck to paycheck,

but there's a limit.

Larry needs you right now.

Besides, he loves it when people come crawling back.

You are talking to an expert.

I'll never crawl back.

But thanks. You're a pal.

Forget it, kid.

Well, I'm gonna cut out early, as usual.

And it gives me a warm feeling to know that

Larry has to pay me whether I work or not.

Ciao.

To be quite honest with you,

Biddle Advertising is creatively barren

and the prospect of learning at the feet of a man like you

is enormously exciting,

and I'm a very excitable woman.

Christine, I think we might have something for you.

Why don't we grab some dinner next week

and, um, we can go over your portfolio?

I'd like that.

Ah, right now I've got to put out a couple of fires.

Listen, why don't you give my secretary, Mary,

a call in a couple of days

and we can set something up, all right?

- Thank you. - I've gotta run.

Oh, I forgot my purse.

I'd forget my head if it wasn't fastened on.

Howard?

Aunt Jessica?

Hi, honey.

The audition went really well.

I got a feeling they're gonna offer me the part.

Gonna stop by for a drink with my agent.

Be home about 9:00.

- Vicky, it's Jessica. - The life insurance.

I'm going to be tied up for a while here

with my publisher, but I'll be there by 9:00.

Think of a nice place for dinner.

And it's my treat.

Howard, this is Laverne at Sid Shackelman's office.

I promised to call you if I heard anything.

Mr. Shackelman is going with Rod Waverley

for the doorman's part.

He thought you were great, but not world-weary enough.

Sorry.

Right. Yes.

Hi, Ms. Griffin. Workin' late again, huh?

There's something I have to settle with Mr. Kinkaid.

The weather continues warm and mild.

High today in Manhattan, 68 degrees.

Relative humidity, 45%.

What happened, Ms. Griffin?

Let me see that.

"Outstanding achievement in the field of advertising,

Larry Kinkaid."

Well, like they say, this one had his name on it.

Bag it.

Mrs. Griffin.

Why did you scream?

I mean, what did he do to you?

Nothing. He was laying there when I came in.

I was terrified.

Well, uh, what were you doing here?

I mean, after hours.

Was it business business or, like, personal business?

- Hey, you can't go in there! - She's my wife!

It's okay! It's all right.

Sorry.

Listen, uh, I want you to call the coroner.

Tell him I want that lab report on my desk first thing in the morning, okay?

- Yes, Sir. - Oh, Bobby, call my wife.

Tell her I ain't gonna make it, all right?

Yes, Sir.

Are you okay, baby?

Why'd you have to come back here?

Mr. Griffin, does she work late a lot?

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

It means--

Lady, hey.

Lady, who the hell are you?

She's my aunt, Jessica Fletcher.

J.B. Fletcher, the mystery writer?

Oh, that's swell. That's just what I need.

Curious, that corned beef sandwich.

He wasn't poisoned, Mrs. Fletcher.

He was brained with this advertising award.

Yes, of course, Lieutenant.

Look, I don't want to intrude here,

but, uh, well, it seems to me

that if a sandwich was delivered,

well--well, it could help to establish the time of death.

The body was warm when we got here,

which means the time of death had to be just about the time

that your niece here says she discovered the body.

What do you mean, "says"?

- "Says" means-- - Uh, Lieutenant.

I'm--I'm sure the notion has occurred to you

that someone must have been here

before Victoria arrived.

Uh, well, perhaps the--the security guard

has kept a report of some sort?

I came on duty at 6:00 after the receptionist leaves.

Tonight, I never left the desk until I heard the screams.

So anybody coming in or out has got to get by you.

All these names between 6:00 to 6:30,

I suppose they're employees leaving?

Yeah, everybody cleared out about 6:30.

Thank you.

Now, wait a minute.

These are--these are all sign-outs.

Well, here's a Grover Barth, in at 7:00, out at 7:10.

Is he an employee?

Oh, Mr. Barth is a client.

Mr. Corned Beef Castles.

And here's a Mary Jones.

She signed in and out around 8:30.

Yeah, well, she's the interior decorator.

Now, was the sandwich delivered?

There's nothing on the sheet here.

The delivery guy was here about 8:00.

Wait, wait, wait a minute here.

Do you mind?

Now, this, uh, Victoria Griffin.

She was in at 9:15.

Now, did she say anything, act strange?

She only said that she had something to settle with Mr. Kinkaid.

Well, what's going on?

I'm leaving. I quit yesterday.

And with Mr. Kinkaid dead,

I doubt that we'll be renewing the account, so...

Ah, whoa, whoa,

we haven't lost the account yet.

Myron and I have been talking.

I looked at those ideas you gave Larry yesterday.

They're really very good.

Good? They're terrific.

Now, I'm not going to go into mourning for Larry.

The fact is, I hated his guts.

But if we can save the Corned Beef Castles account,

we can save this agency.

But I--

As Larry's only living relative,

Myron inherits the business.

Which certainly won't be worth much without the Corned Beef Castles account.

I'll take over the account again.

We have to renegotiate my deal. No more banker's hours.

You know, Larry never listened to me on financial matters, but, damn it,

I know a thing or two about running a sound business!

We take those terrific new ideas of yours

and we put together a new campaign,

and we have Grover Barth begging to renew.

Well, it's about time we tried something fresh.

Whatever you're making, you get a ten-grand-a-year raise.

Have you had a chance to tell Howard about your raise?

No, not yet.

Aunt Jessica, I don't want to burden you,

but, uh, I've been worried about Howard.

Well, now that you bring it up, he did seem a bit down.

Do you suppose it could have something to do with your job?

There are times when I wonder why I'm even in this rat race.

There's so much pressure, cutthroat competition,

and some of it really seems shallow.

Actually, the reason I'm hanging in is for Howard.

For Howard?

To take the financial pressure off him

so he's free to devote himself to his acting career.

I love him so much, Aunt Jessica.

I just want him to be happy.

Victoria, do you and Howard ever talk to each other?

Victoria Griffin?

Christine Clifford, Biddle Advertising.

This is my aunt, Jessica Fletcher.

Oh, yes, the famous writer.

Talent must run in the family.

Mind if I sit down for a moment?

Victoria, I have heard wonderful things about your work.

- You have? - Oh, yes.

They say Larry Kinkaid couldn't make a move without you.

And now he's dead. Oh, poor man.

Victoria, I hate to short-stroke this,

but Leland Biddle wants you on our team.

You mean a job at Biddle Advertising?

Whatever you're making,

I am authorized to make it 10,000 more.

We can talk title later.

My goodness!

The advertising business is certainly very volatile.

I hardly know what to say, Miss Clifford...

except that I do feel I have a commitment to the Kinkaid agency.

Okay.

Maybe Mr. Biddle will go higher.

I'll have to check with him.

Call me.

Nice to meet you, J.B., love your product.

Thank you.

Vicky, you are really in demand.

"Christine Clifford."

Now I remember where I've seen that name.

On Larry Kinkaid's appointment calendar, 4:00.

She's with the competition. Why would she be seeing Larry?

- Ladies. - Oh, Lieutenant Spoletti.

Any developments on Mr. Kinkaid's murder, Lieutenant?

Yeah, I've got it just about wrapped up.

I got motive, opportunity

and a lab report that makes it a lock.

Victoria Griffin, you're under arrest for the murder of Larry Kinkaid.

This is preposterous.

According to the lab report,

the advertising award

was definitely the murder weapon,

and the only fingerprints on it,

aside from Kinkaid's, were yours, Mrs. Griffin.

I had picked up that award earlier to make a point.

Aubrey Thornton and Myron Kinkaid will tell you that.

You see, Lieutenant, a perfectly simple explanation.

And if the killer wore gloves, that suggests premeditation.

That doesn't mean she couldn't pick it up again

and whack him with it.

Look, perhaps--perhaps the security guard was mistaken

about who was still there.

The rent-a-cop? The agency fired him.

Probably figured they weren't getting their money's worth.

But if somebody had been working late

and not signed out--

And then slipped out when the security guard

went to investigate Victoria's scream--

Maybe the award just fell on him.

You know, I just had a thought.

Mr. Kinkaid may have died just before you got there,

but the fatal blow could have been struck much earlier.

Sometimes people linger for days with a head injury.

Could I see the sign-out sheet again, please?

You wanna see the sign-out sheet?

Terrific! Let's take a look at the sign-out sheet.

Okay, here we go.

We got the sign-out sheet.

We got Grover Barth, a client.

He was in at 7:00,

over two hours before the guy got killed.

Lieutenant--

And, by the way, the guy had no motive.

And here we have our interior decorator, Mary Jones.

Whom nobody has even heard of.

We're checking her out.

Mr. Kinkaid never mentioned her to me.

Lieutenant, doesn't the name Mary Jones

seem just a little prosaic to you?

Come again?

Oh, commonplace, ordinary.

You know, like John Doe, made up, an alias.

Mrs. Fletcher, even if that were true,

which I ain't sayin' it is, the bimbo came and went

45 minutes before Kinkaid got conked!

And I assume that you're still trying to find the deliveryman?

That was at 8:00!

Do you know how many delis there are in New York?

Hundreds!

Look, lady, I know one thing.

Kinkaid was iced at 9:15,

according to the medical report.

9:15! That is the magic number here.

The sandwich had nothin' to do with nothin'!

I'm sorry, Lieutenant, but you're wrong.

The sandwich was delivered at 8:00.

At 9:15, the sandwich was still uneaten

and I have to ask why.

Maybe, just maybe, you got something here.

I'll give you 24 hours.

Thank you.

Aubrey, good. Come on!

Now, give me a situation report.

Everything's in high gear, Myron.

The art department will have the graphs and the charts

ready for you about 5:00

and the media people are working up the numbers right now.

Excuse me.

I hope I'm not interrupting anything important,

but your secretary seems to be away from her desk.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Please come in.

No, I've got her manning the copy machine.

This is Myron Kinkaid.

He's our new leader.

I can give you about two minutes, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, it won't take that long.

I just want to express my condolences.

Beautiful guy. Everybody loved him.

But we're gonna pick up his banner and keep charging.

Yes, Victoria tells me that you inherit the agency

and that you're going to do everything possible

to save the big account.

It won't be easy, following Larry's act, but we're gonna give it our best shot.

It beats going belly up.

Yes, everyone would lose their jobs

and it would be such a shame to close up this office.

I mean, the decoration is--is so charming.

Look, it was nice chatting with you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I can't imagine why you'd want to redecorate it.

Redecorate?

Yes, I'm talking about Miss Jones, the interior decorator,

who came to see your brother last night.

I never heard of her.

Larry just had the place redone a year ago.

We don't throw money around for nothing.

Oh, it was you who fired the guard, then.

To save money.

Uh, that was me.

When you let the owner of the company get killed,

practically under your nose,

it's a fair assumption you're not doing your job.

So I called the security company for a replacement.

Yes.

Well, I mustn't keep you.

I'm sure you two have big plans to discuss.

And now, ladies and gentlemen,

I'd like to introduce a man

already known to many of you in this community.

A man who'll be manager and co-owner

of this Corned Beef Castle,

Harrison P. Oswald.

Who, in the grand tradition of American free enterprise,

will be investing $100,000 in the future of this community.

And now, for a special treat,

corned beef on the house for everybody!

Grover, is that check certified?

Mr. and Mrs. Barth.

My goodness, what a surprise!

Well, that was such a charming ceremony.

Well, I saw a notice about the opening in the financial pages.

Wasn't it a shame about poor Larry Kinkaid?

Oh, yes, such a shock for everyone,

particularly you, Mr. Barth.

I understand that you were the last one

to see him alive,

except for the murderer, of course.

Why, Grover,

you told me you were going to the movies.

I had to visit my sister.

Grover can't stand her.

I did go to the movies, pumpkin.

I-I just stopped by Larry's office first.

I thought I left my extra pair of glasses there,

but I assure you, Mrs. Fletcher,

he was very much alive when I left.

And were they there?

- What? - Your glasses.

Oh, I found them in another suit.

Grover, let's not stand around yapping.

I want to get this check to the bank before it closes.

You'll excuse us, Mrs. Fletcher?

Bye.

I always knew when Mr. Kinkaid was gonna work late.

You see, uh, around 8:00,

he'd always have a sandwich delivered.

Oh, you mean from a neighborhood deli.

No idea. I always brought my own lunch.

Oh, yes, well, of course it is a great deal more economical.

Uh, did Mr. Kinkaid come out to get his sandwich,

or did you bring it back to him?

Oh, no, no,

you never leave your own post, security, see?

No, I called Mr. Kinkaid

and I told him that the sandwich was there

and sent the guy back.

You gotta be very careful.

Are you quite sure that

it was Mr. Kinkaid on the telephone

that you spoke to?

Well, I only talked to him two or three times.

I tell you the truth,

I didn't really know any of the big guys,

but I think it was his voice.

But you can't be sure?

He only said, "Okay."

- Mr. Ingram. - Yeah?

You told Lieutenant Spoletti

that Mary Jones, the one who checked in at 8:30,

was an interior decorator,

but Myron Kinkaid said they didn't plan to redecorate.

Yeah, that was kind of strange.

She showed up with some pieces of material and a tape measure.

She said that she had forgotten to measure the drapes

in one of the offices.

Well, uh, could it have been one of the employees?

Oh, no, no, no, I would have remembered.

No, this was a real looker.

Tall, blonde, legs up to here.

Tall and blonde?

Real sophisticated, expensive clothes.

I think she kind of liked me.

Did she, by any chance, resemble this girl here?

Yeah, that's her!

Yeah, except on the card it says, "Christine Clifford."

I guess Mary Jones is her professional name.

Mm-hmm. Uh, like a stage name.

Well, thank you, Mr. Ingram. You've been most helpful.

- Jessica? - Yes.

I just got a call from my agent.

They want me right away for a tryout.

That's wonderful! A new play?

A TV commercial, but at least it's a job.

Oh, that is exciting. What's the product?

They didn't say.

But it's for Biddle Advertising

and I'm supposed to see a Christine Clifford.

Howard, would you mind if I came along with you?

Call it research.

Mind? Come on. You'll bring me luck.

So when your loved one slips off to final repose,

be sure the destination is Slumberland.

One phone call makes all the arrangements.

Slumber ceremonies available for all budgets.

Major credit cards accepted.

So remember,

when final repose arrives for your loved one,

Mr. Slumberland is waiting.

I could have done it better.

You were fine, Howard.

You were terrific, Howard.

I mean terrific.

We think you would be perfect as Mr. Slumberland.

We'll contact your agent right away and get the contracts working.

You mean, I--I've got it?

You're definitely the Mr. Slumberland

we've been looking for, Howard.

And, naturally,

Victoria will be your account executive.

Victoria?

Victoria?

Well, think of it as a kind of package, Howard.

You and your wife working together

on the same account here, it has a nice feel to it.

Uh, would one of the strings on the package

be the Corned Beef Castles account?

That's the deal we're talking.

You know, Miss Clifford,

I find the advertising business just fascinating.

It's so competitive and yet it's so chummy.

According to Larry Kinkaid's appointment calendar,

you went to see him in his office at 4:00 the day that he was murdered.

There's nothing unusual about that.

He offered me a job. I turned him down.

It happens every day in this business.

Well, I have--I have a meeting.

I'll leave you to tie up the loose ends, Christine.

It was nice to meet you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Howard, welcome aboard.

Miss Clifford.

Did you, by any chance,

return to Mr. Kinkaid's office later in that evening?

Of course not, no.

Well, I'm sorry, but the security guard

will identify you as the interior decorator.

And in view of your interest

in the Corned Beef Castles account,

the police may feel

that you have a very, very strong motive

unless, of course, there's another explanation.

Well, it's not what you think.

When I was in Mr. Kinkaid's office in the afternoon,

I borrowed something.

A file folder

with some of Victoria's ideas for the account.

All I wanted to do was return that file

before Mr. Kinkaid missed it

and the decorator seemed like a good story

to get by the guard.

Only Kinkaid was in the office and caught you with the stolen file.

No.

No, Mr. Kinkaid was already dead

when I got into the office. I didn't kill him.

I swear.

I'm taking Mrs. Fletcher's advice, Lieutenant,

and I'm telling you the truth.

Yeah, and your story is

that you were returning stolen property.

Okay, I borrowed some confidential material,

but that is all that I did.

Fine. Fine.

Get her statement.

I didn't kill him.

Why is it I always figure

gorgeous blondes are lying to me?

Adolescent trauma, Lieutenant.

But if she is telling the truth...

It means we got the time of death wrong

and somebody got to him first.

But who?

Lieutenant Spolet--

Oh, hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

Hello.

Lieutenant, my name is Leland Biddle.

I just received a rather confused

and hysterical phone call from Miss Clifford.

I thought I should come in and try to sort things out.

- Have a seat. - Thank you.

Christine Clifford works for you?

She's an employee of my firm, yes.

She said that she stole some confidential files

from Kinkaid's office.

Good heavens. She said that?

And she said that you'll verify it.

We're a highly ethical firm.

If Miss Clifford is involved in some sort of theft,

I have no choice, but to ask for her resignation immediately.

But you were trying to take the Corned Beef Castles account

away from Mr. Kinkaid's company?

Actually, we're no longer interested

in the Corned Beef Castles account.

Oh, that wasn't the impression

that I got this afternoon.

Yes, well, I have made some inquiries since then

and it would appear that the Barths have filed

for a chapter 11 bankruptcy.

Bankruptcy? Well, that's interesting.

Apparently, they've hit Kinkaid agency with a ton of media bills.

But, of course, you didn't know about the bankruptcy

the evening that Mr. Kinkaid was killed, Mr. Biddle.

Mrs. Fletcher, if you are suggesting

that I was in any way involved with Larry Kinkaid's death,

I was having dinner with a business associate

at the time that he was killed.

Aubrey Thornton, Françoise.

Oh, yes, of course,

on the ground floor of Mr. Kinkaid's building.

- What time was that? - 7:00.

Uh, we met at 7:00

and we stayed till well after 9:00.

Actually, he was hitting me up for a job.

The police arrived just as we were leaving.

Thornton will tell you that I never left the table,

except for a few minutes to make a phone call at the bar.

The barman will vouch for that.

If you'll excuse me, Lieutenant,

I don't think I should make any further comment on this matter

until I've conferred with my attorney.

- Good idea. - Mrs. Fletcher.

Apparently, Mr. Biddle is leaving Miss Clifford

swinging in the wind.

Corned Beef Castles bankrupt?

Yes, I'm afraid that's what Mr. Biddle said.

Well, then neither agency is going to get the account.

That means my TV commercial goes down the tube too.

And apparently Christine Clifford is out of a job as well.

Howard, I'm so sorry.

It's okay.

I can always get my old job back at the insurance company.

But what about your career?

All I ever really wanted was you.

I'll get it.

Oh, yes.

- Griffin? - Yes.

- Large pastrami and sausage. - Ah, thank you.

Oh, dear. It's anchovy and olive.

Look, it says, "pastrami and sausage" on the ticket.

I don't make 'em, lady. I just deliver 'em.

- What do I owe you? - It's, uh, $16.20.

And I don't carry around much change, lady.

Ah, that's all right. Thanks.

- Thanks. - Uh-huh.

Actually, you know, I'm not very hungry.

Uh, would you two mind if I went out for a while?

I won't be back till late.

Get this right over there. They called twice.

Now what did you want on that, lady?

Mustard, sauerkraut, horseradish?

No, I'm afraid you don't understand.

I'm asking about a corned beef sandwich

that was delivered last night.

- Somethin' was wrong with it? - No, no.

I was wondering if it was delivered

to Kinkaid Advertising.

Look, I realize that you have hundreds of orders,

but, well, this is the seventh delicatessen that I've been to,

and, uh, please, it's important.

Kinkaid over on Madison Avenue.

- That's it. - What about it?

Well, could I talk to the man who delivered it?

Lady, we get a lot of repeat business.

We got a reputation in this business.

Here's your sandwich, Linda.

If there was something wrong with it, we'll make it right.

"Corned beef, rye.

Larry Kinkaid, Kinkaid Advertising."

Yes. Does it say who delivered it?

Nobody delivered it.

The guy called and canceled the order.

Ah, come on. Gimme a break, will ya?

Why would I lie about a lousy sandwich?

I don't know. You tell me.

Uh, Mr. Ingram, what did the deliveryman look like?

Huh! Like a deliveryman.

I mean, all these meatballs, they all look alike, you know?

Well, please try and remember.

It could be very important.

Ah, he was wearing a gray coat.

He was carrying a--a styrofoam cooler.

Oh, that sure narrows it down.

Uh-huh.

Was he wearing gloves, by any chance?

Yeah, as a matter of fact, yeah.

He had a little woolen hat, mustache, shades...

Tell ya the truth,

I didn't get a good look at him, if you know what I mean.

Lieutenant, why would a deliveryman

be wearing dark glasses at night?

Wait a minute.

Are you telling me that Kinkaid was killed by some deliveryman?

I'm saying it's someone posing as a deliveryman.

You recognize this guy if you saw him again?

Yeah. Uh, maybe.

Uh, I don't know.

Lieutenant, I have an idea.

Would you be interested in trying it?

Got the time?

Cops. Love to make you sweat.

Two hours, they got me waitin' here.

Well, nice try, Mrs. Fletcher,

but the security guard doesn't recognize Thornton.

We struck out.

Maybe so, Lieutenant.

But since you brought Mr. Thornton down here,

couldn't we at least have a chat with him?

This is outrageous!

First of all, you call me down here.

Then you keep me sitting out there for half an hour.

- What's going on? - I'm sorry, Mr. Thornton.

But Mrs. Fletcher here has a wild idea

that you might know something about Larry Kinkaid's death.

Well, that's ridiculous.

I was having dinner with Leland Biddle when Kinkaid was killed.

Uh, ask Biddle.

He was with me the whole time.

Except for a few minutes

when Mr. Biddle went into the bar to make a phone call.

The express elevator would take you up to the penthouse

in only a few seconds.

Or anybody else in New York City, Mrs. Fletcher.

I understand from Victoria

that Mr. Kinkaid was trying to squeeze you out.

Didn't matter to me. I had a contract.

Yes, but no official duties.

I imagine time hung on your hands, Mr. Thornton.

Victoria says you always left early.

You must have had Kinkaid's moves down pretty good.

Like the fact that he always ordered a sandwich

when he worked late?

Probably knew the deli he ordered from.

What does Larry Kinkaid's taste

in short-order food have to do with me?

Well, you could have canceled the order with a phone call

and made the delivery that he was expecting yourself.

Mrs. Fletcher, that's pure conjecture.

Yes, it's only a theory,

but I suspect that you already had the cooler prepared

and hidden somewhere down on the ground floor.

So when Mr. Biddle went to make one of his frequent phone calls,

you headed for the elevator.

You probably had your disguise hidden inside the cooler.

And seconds later, you got out at the penthouse suite

dressed as the deliveryman.

You have great fantasies. You should be in advertising.

The guard had only been on the job a short time.

You'd always been careful to leave before he came on duty,

so he wouldn't recognize you, even in your disguise.

You even made sure that he was discharged the next day,

just to be sure.

So that's your little game, is it?

You kept me cooling my heels out there in the hallway,

hoping that that security guard would recognize me.

Well, it didn't work, Lieutenant.

That guard wouldn't know me from Adam.

He's never seen me before in his life.

You've got nothing.

Guard?

How did you know that that man sitting out there

was the security guard, Mr. Thornton?

Hey, that's right!

He wasn't in uniform.

How did you know he was the security guard?

You're trying to trick me.

I'm afraid the only way you'd know that

would be if you'd seen him in uniform

the night that you murdered Mr. Kinkaid.

You think you've got it all planned,

every little detail,

and then you get suckered by one little mistake.

He cheated me.

He humiliated me.

I sat in my office for months,

trying to figure out how to get him.

And it--it seemed like a perfect plan.

He did not even look up.

That arrogant, pompous phony.

I wanted him to know that it was me.

And, you know, killing him with the award,

that wasn't improvisation.

That was part of the plan.

Nice touch, don't you think?