All language subtitles for MrSWr3E09.Obituary.for.a.Dead.Anchor.

You're a dead man.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Sure was a good idea of yours, Jessica, this tv exposure.

Well, honestly I didn't originate it.

Will you kindly get your equipment

out of my flower beds?

Scrutiny is a hit for one reason, and you're lookin' at him.

He was a credit to his profession.

He was a lowdown, two-timing snake.

It might be healthy for you to get out of town for awhile.

That big fellow you saw- he could be dangerous.

You there! Hold it!

Ronald Ross,

yours is acknowledged

to be one of the finest private collections

of abstract expressionism in the country.

Quite obviously, you're not one of those gentlemen

who, uh, knows what he likes

but doesn't know anything about art.

Well, actually, Kevin, I have a degree in art.

Oh, and now you're, um, what-- An entrepreneur?

Whatever that means.

In your case, doesn't that mean

the selling of illegal drugs smuggled in from South america?

Someone's been putting you on, Mr. Keats.

I'm a legitimate businessman.

Successful businessman, I'll grant you that,

but not legitimate.

Isn't your primary commodity cocaine?

Oh, come on.

You were in Miami two weeks ago--

True or false?

I had a business meeting--

With a gentleman by the name of Jose Amaldo.

- Lousy creep. - Jose amaldo...

how'd he know that?

Who is shown in these candid photos,

has been named 17 times as a major narcotics distributor

by the house committee report on drugs and organized crime.

This wasn't your first meeting, was it, Mr. Ross?

I can't tell you

how disappointed I am Mr. Keats.

'Cause I love to show off my art collection.

Well, Mr. Ross may hope it ends there,

but I've been promised new and revealing information,

which you can see next week right here on scrutiny:

part two in "the profile of an art lover."

You're a dead man.

Good night, Nick.

Good night. And good night, Paula.

Good night, America.

Oh, I enjoy your show, Miss Roman.

I'm just not sure that I want to expose myself

to one of those, uh, soul-baring interviews.

Oh, no, that's Kevin Keats' department.

Mine are the down-home feats,

and I would love to show America J.B. Fletcher's Cabot Cove.

Oh, dear, don't you think that sounds a little bit pretentious?

No, not at all.

What I have in mind is a very gentle portrait

of a small New England town

as seen through the eyes of one of its leading citizens.

Mrs. Fletcher, please.

I really went to bat for this,

and you've always been very special to me.

Well, all right.

I'll bring it up at the town meeting,

and if the town decides

they want to pose for a video portrait,

well, I'll do my part.

Oh, good.

I've never been turned down by a town yet.

- Oh, really? - Thank you.

I know you've got a lot of work to do,

so I'm going to make this short.

Despite rumors to the contrary,

the network isn't at all discouraged

by the way things are going.

Why should they be?

We're consistently winning our time slot.

We're still in the top 20.

That's not number one.

It's not 65, either.

Are they really that worried about our ratings?

Well, there is the matter of the new audience survey.

Doug, you remember our conversation?

Richard, I don't need this pressure

when I'm trying to put a show together.

Pressure? Listen, buddy-boy...

you don't know what pressure is.

You're only the producer here, remember?

Well, nobody forced you

to be vice president in charge of the news.

Somebody had to do it.

You could have suggested they give the job to a newsman.

- Here, here. - "Newsperson," please.

Look, look, look.

You guys have no idea the heat that I take for you.

Richard, will you get out of here and let us work?

Doug, don't make me look bad on the top floor.

I don't have to make you look bad.

You're able to do that all by yourself.

Well, now that we've all had a little laugh

at the expense of the enemy,

what do you think of Paula's Cabot Cove idea?

I think it's brilliant.

Make a great Americana segment.

Thank you.

Only you're not doing it. I've got something else for you.

A nebraska high school boy's

been accepted on the girls' basketball team.

Ought to be a lot of good stuff there.

Oh, sure. This is very funny.

Now, please, let's talk about my cabot cove piece.

I'm giving it to Kevin.

- What? - I want you there tomorrow.

You've got to be out of your mind, pal.

I mean, I'm prepping part two of the Ron Ross expose.

Uh, well, there's not going to be a part two.

The legal department killed it.

That stinks, Doug.

The sweet smell of sup-press.

In view of the death threats you've received, Kevin,

it might be healthy for you to get out of town for awhile.

- What death threats? - Cranks.

What else, you know?

Don't you worry about your Cabot Cove gig.

I have no intention of drowning in the backwaters of maine.

Check your contracts. You have a choice.

Either take the assignment or go off salary.

On the other hand, I've always loved the smell of sea air.

I hope the tide's in.

- Jessica. - Oh, good morning, Wylie.

Here, let me help you with that.

Oh, thanks a lot.

Well, it looks like you bought out the whole store.

Oh, I just got a few things.

- Uh-huh. - Good morning.

Including a new outfit to wear on television?

It's one of the symptoms.

- Oh, is it going around? - Lots of foolishness.

Everything shined up.

Everybody's wearing their easter duds.

I even saw Nils Anderson

slapping on a fresh coat of paint.

Well, I don't see anything foolish about that.

How nice does a live bait stand have to look?

It's getting out of hand, Jessica, this tv business.

Well, they took a vote at the town meeting,

and everybody voted "aye."

All except one sorehead that I could name.

Mm-hmm, Seth Hazlitt.

And you notice he's not here for the festivities.

Now, where is Seth? I haven't seen him.

Had a sudden yen to visit his sister in South carolina.

Stuck me with all his patients till next Tuesday.

Jessica!

Uh, hold up there!

Been trying to get you on the phone all morning.

Uh, when are those tv people coming in from new York?

Oh, they'll be here sometime today.

Couldn't be more specific, could you?

Thinking about organizing a little,

uh, welcoming ceremony.

Oh, well, I don't think

that anything special is called for, Sam.

I mean, they're just coming to town to do a job.

Oh, they'll do a job, all right, on cabot cove.

Have you ever seen that show?

Yeah, and so has the rest of the country, doctor.

Good publicity means summer visitors.

More trade for the merchants.

Sure was a good idea of yours, Jessica, this tv exposure.

Well, honestly I didn't originate it.

I believe in giving credit where credit's due.

Well, got to see to my haircut. Want to look good for camera.

You're wrong, Wylie.

Paula Roman loves this town as much as I do,

and she told me that this segment is going to be

like a beautiful postcard.

- Mm? - And I believe her.

Mmm, I just hope the rest of the country

doesn't become so entranced that they come racing up here

in their trailers and campers and...

- vans. - Over here.

No, lift it more this way.

Good Lord!

- Who's gonna get the dolly? - I'll get the coffee.

Hey, Mike. Bring the dolly, will you?

Young man?

Will you kindly get your equipment out of my flower beds?

Move it, please, now. Who's in charge here?

- Uh, Mrs. Fletcher? - Yes.

- I'm Kevin Keats. - Oh, how do you do?

Well, uh, where's miss Roman?

Uh, Paula's been reassigned. I'll be handling this segment.

You? Oh, oh, uh, I thought

You see, miss Roman assured me

that this was not going to be, uh

Well, a certain kind of interview.

Is this the way you always look?

Well, is there anything wrong with the way I look?

No, it's just that my image of you is, uh, more homespun.

Oh.

World-famous author,

highly intelligent and sophisticated.

It makes you wonder, J.B. Fletcher,

how you came to be buried in a tiny town

in the back of Maine where the people are,

if you'll forgive me, hardly your intellectual equals?

Uh, let's stop right now Mr. Keats.

I'm sorry, but I really can't allow you

to insult my friends and my--My home.

Uh, look, if this is what you're after,

then you'll have to leave me out of it.

I'm sorry.

Now I know who the real tough guy is in this twosome.

You forgive me? Can we start again?

Yes, of course.

Jessica Beatrice Fletcher.

J.B. Fletcher,

writer of best-selling mystery novels, world traveler.

You could live almost anywhere in the world.

Why choose Cabot Cove, Maine?

Well, my roots are here,

and I've spent many happy years with my late husband here.

- Sentimental attachment? - Oh, much more than that.

I mean, I'm in touch with the rest of the world, but, uh--

Well, I can be apart from it when I need to be.

I mean, take my house, for instance.

Frank and I bought that drafty old place

about 30 years ago, and I-i hung the pictures,

and I-i planted all the little plants,

and I learned how to put up the storm windows--

But it's still drafty, you understand?

And this is where Frank died and uh,

and where I began a new life.

I don't think I've ever really thought of living anywhere else.

Is it always this quiet?

On a good day you can hear the wind,

the ocean, and the seagulls.

Mrs. Fletcher!

And which is that?

The darndest thing just happened.

Uh, Amos uh Sheriff Amos Tupper.

How do. I just picked up my new suit.

The one I bought for the television show,

and I was sort of gettin' the feel of it behind the wheel,

and I looked up and I saw this helicopter

set down out on the bluffs.

- Hey, cut it! - Do you mind?

I'm trying to talk to Mrs. Fletcher.

Anyhow, this great, big, bald-headed fella,

he gets out, and there's this long limousine

just waitin' there to whisk him into town.

I'll bet you anything he's one of those tv fellas.

You say this fella was uh big and bald?

Yeah, about 6'3".

Say, who is this nosy Parker?

Uh, Amos this is Kevin Keats.

Keat--Keats? Oh.

Oh, well, Sir, you look a lot taller on tv.

Amos, you just walked into the middle of a tv interview.

That so?

Oh, uh, I-i-i hope that that wasn't

- Oh, no, no, I had them cut it. - Oh.

In any case, Mrs. Fletcher, your nose is a little shiny.

Uh, makeup! Hair.

Take your time now. Don't rush it, huh?

Thank you.

- Sheriff, could I talk to you? - Mm-hmm.

That big fellow you saw arriving

If it's who I think it is, he could be dangerous.

Dangerous?

I may need your help getting away from him.

No need, Sir. I'll just have him picked up.

On what charge? Suspicion of being ugly?

I'd prefer to handle it my own way, if you don't mind.

Could you arrange to have a boat for me

by sunrise tomorrow morning?

- A boat? - Yeah.

Not too small, but something I can handle by myself.

Sure. I'll take care of it personally.

Thanks.

Hill House.

Uh, Mr. Keats? Telephone for you.

It's a lady.

You can take it here at the desk.

Thanks.

Uh, for your information,

the hotel was once featured in the national geographic.

It photographs like a million dollars,

inside and out.

If you'd care to set up your cameras,

why, you could take--

Excuse me.

Hello.

Hello, you monster.

Judith, is that you?

I know what you're doing, Kevin.

You understand? I know what you're up to.

It's not your business any more, Judith.

Don't intrude in my life.

You really should learn the difference

between an intrusion and a warning.

Don't threaten me. Don't ever threaten me.

Kevin, hold on. We've got to talk.

I have more important things to do

than waste time with you, Helman.

Hey, hey, now, now. Come on.

Putting you on this story

was a change of pace, a fresh approach.

Don't take it personally.

Oh, but I do.

Scrutiny's a hit for one reason,

and you're lookin' at him.

They toss out producers like so many empty beer cans,

but I keep rolling along.

So you get off my back

before I do something you'll regret.

- Morning. - Morning, sheriff.

Well, there she is.

Not much to look at,

but Augie Wilkins swears she's yar.

Yar?

- Easy to handle. - Oh, yeah.

Well, I'm sure she'll do just fine, sheriff.

Augie Wilkins wanted a $100 deposit.

Paid for it out of my own pocket.

Well, I can't thank you enough.

- Mr. Keats? - Yeah?

We haven't talked about the rental fee yet.

Right.

And there's my $100.

You there! Hold it!

I know it's early,

but I thought you'd like to hear there's nothing to worry about.

The matter has resolved itself.

You're a little late.

I've already heard it live from Paula Roman on the scene.

Let me understand this, sheriff.

You were waiting here for Kevin Keats at daybreak.

Why?

Mr. Keats asked me to rent a boat for him.

You rented the boat?

Yes, ma'am, at his request.

Sort of an unofficial favor.

And you are certain that the explosion

was not caused by leaking fuel?

Oh, no, ma'am. It was a bomb, all right.

Has any evidence been recovered?

Well, not yet, ma'am, but I've got divers searching.

Uh, excuse me, sheriff,

but I think your deputy wants to talk with you.

What is it, Charlie?

Sheriff, they just recovered a body from the water.

It doesn't look like it'll be easy to identify.

- Excuse me, ma'am. - Yes.

Uh, this has been a special report,

live from Cabot Cove, Maine,

the scene of the tragic and mysterious death

of anchorman Kevin Keats.

Please stay tuned to this station

for any new developments.

I'm Paula Roman.

I don't like this, Jessica. Not one bit.

Paula, are you all right?

Aside from being somewhat shattered,

I guess I'm just exhausted.

I caught that first morning flight

out of New York, you know.

Uh, I'm staying at the hotel if you need a ride.

- Please. - Okay.

Miss Roman, may I express my condolences

on the loss of your colleague.

Yes, thank you uh, Mr.--

I'm George Fish, and it's an honor to meet you.

- George manages the hotel. - Oh.

The tv folks have set up an office

in the private dining room.

It's this way.

A terrible tragedy, and it's so hard to believe.

Why, only last night, poor Mr. Keats was saying

how this hotel would photograph like a million dollars.

Mrs. Fletcher!

The darndest thing just happened.

Great, but keep the sheriff in

'cause he's part of the story.

Nick.

Oh. Yeah, I know, kid, I know.

I didn't expect to see you. I'm so glad you're here.

Oh, uh, Jessica, this is Nick Brody.

- Jessica Fletcher. - Well, how do you do?

Oh, a pleasure.

Like the rest of america,

I've been a fan of Nick Brody and the news.

You're very kind.

I guess I am kind of an institution.

Something like the Staten Island ferry.

Where's Doug? Doug Helman, he's our producer.

Nobody seems to know.

He checked in last night, then left early this morning,

and nobody's seen him since.

He hasn't even called to pick up his messages.

He's probably off climbing a mountain somewhere.

Well, kid, are you ready to go to work?

The network wants me to fill in for Doug.

They want a special on Kevin in the scrutiny time slot.

Oh, Nick.

Hey, hey, kid that's the way it is,

like it or not.

It's news and that's what we peddle.

Why don't you grab some coffee?

I'm going to take another look at this tape.

Sorry, now I know who the real tough guy

is in this twosome.

I'll take mine black, please.

Jessica, I noticed a strange look

on your face down at the waterfront

when I told you that I flew in from new York this morning.

With the amount of traveling that I do,

I know the schedules by heart.

You were on the air a half-hour before the first flight

from New York landed in Portland.

I'm such a terrible liar.

I don't know what I'm doing in this business.

I flew in last night with Doug Helman.

It just seemed a lot easier to lie,

and not because I murdered Kevin.

Because you spent the night with him?

How did you know that?

You didn't recognize the hotel manager,

which means that you didn't check into

your own room last night.

George Fish is always on hand to welcome celebrities.

Kevin has been trying to reach a divorce agreement

with his wife who lives in California,

and he didn't want to complicate matters.

He told me that she phoned last night.

She heard somehow that I was here,

and she threatened him.

Maybe she did more than just threaten.

- From California? - Hey, kid.

I've got a call in to dickie Abbott at the network.

Pick up the phone, will you?

And tell him what's going on up here?

Oh, Nick, you're beginning to sound like a producer.

Oh, it's worse than that.

I'm beginning to think like one.

Yeah. Brody.

Come again?

What is this, a conspiracy?

Now Abbott's disappeared.

He left his New York office last night,

and nobody's seen him since.

What a hell of a way to run a network.

Perhaps the greatest tragedy

is where Kevin Keats met his end.

Urbane, hard-nosed, a legend in his own time,

a man who faced death a hundred times

in hot spots all around the world,

keats was blown to bits in a jerkwater village

where even the crickets die of boredom,

where the part-time mayor conducts town business

from a 5x5 room in the back of his office,

and the sheriff is responsible

for supplying the boat that caused his death.

I insist on seeing miss Roman this very minute.

Clara, will you keep your dress on?

This is not the annual Church social, dear.

I've got some real reporters here.

- Lady, do you mind? - I'm trying to get a room here.

- You got any messages for me? - Fowler, 231. Fowler.

Sam? Sam, what are you doing?

Funny, Jessica, I was about to ask you the same thing.

You got any idea what's going on in this town?

You can't turn around without some fool photographer

flashing a camera in your face.

Sam, when a celebrity is killed,

you have to expect--

This is all your doing. You and your publicity seekin'.

Now just one moment, Sam.

You talk us into letting them tv cameras into town,

and now we're the laughingstock of the country.

Me, Amos Tupper, the lot of us. I won't have it.

Yes, but what's going on is not my fault.

Not the way I see it, or anybody else, either.

Well, what do you expect me to do about it?

I mean, as long as the murder remains unsolved,

the media are going to hang around.

- Sam-- - Then get it solved.

Find out what happened, Jessica,

and get 'em the hell out of here.

Your mess. You clean it up.

- Mr. Fish! - Hill house?

George, this is Jessica Fletcher.

I don't think I care to talk to you right now, ma'am.

Look, George, if you want to get rid of the mob

that is cluttering up the lobby, please help me.

Last evening, I understand that Mr. Keats' wife called him.

Could you tell me the time

and the number in california that she was calling from?

The time was about 7:00,

but, uh, she wasn't calling from california.

Left a local number.

- Local? - 555-8901.

That's the idle hour motel up near the interstate.

Thank you.

Now, Sheriff, this big bald man.

You're sure you'd recognize him if you saw him again?

A big, ugly fella like that?

That's not a face one's likely to forget.

Okay, let's take a look.

'Cause I love to show off my art collection.

That's him!

That's the fella I saw runnin' from the boat.

Run it back.

Freeze it.

Well, I think we've just got us

a sensational ending for our special.

More than that, I hope.

Mr. Ross may hope it ends there,

but I've been promised--

World lost a great man Miss Roman.

He was a credit to his profession.

He was a low-down, two-timing snake.

I really can't think of anything good

to say about him, living or dead.

Well, 3,000 miles is an awfully long way to travel

to vent your wrath, Mrs. Keats.

Surely you could have called him from home.

I thought if we sat down and talked,

maybe things could be better between us.

What made you change your mind?

When my taxi pulled up to the hotel,

I saw Kevin and Paula Roman

leaving together,

and the way he looked at her, I--

Why didn't you go back home?

What? And duck a good fight?

I wanted him to know how I felt.

And then when he finally took my calls,

he didn't want to listen.

Then you didn't actually meet or talk with him at all?

Look, I didn't kill him,

if that's what you're getting at.

I wanted him alive in a courtroom,

where I could watch his face

while my lawyer carved up his assets.

Well, now that he's dead, I suppose you'll get it all.

I can see how that would be considered a motive.

Is there a Mrs. Fletcher here?

Excuse me.

- Hello? - Jessica?

Wylie? How did you know where I--

George Fish.

You're not the only detective in town.

Is Mrs. Keats there?

- Yes. - Would you do me a favor?

Ask her how many toes her husband had.

Uh-huh. Uh, Mrs. Keats--

- Toes? - It's important.

Mrs. Keats, how many toes did your husband have?

Well, ten. Doesn't everyone?

Wylie--

Unless she said "eight,"

the fella I've got lyin' here on the table

is not the late Kevin Keats.

Aw, now, doggone it, Doc, that's impossible.

I saw Kevin Keats get on that boat.

That may be,

but the man whose remains were fished out of the bay

had only three toes on his left foot.

Meaning that he was injured in the explosion?

No, the other two were removed surgically some time ago

by surgical amputation.

Okay, now, hold it. I want to get this down.

Now, which two were they?

Both phalanges of the third and fourth pedal digits.

I already called Seth at his sister's.

I figured if anyone in town were missing toes, he'd know.

And?

No one he ever treated.

Which means that we're dealing with a stranger.

And we've got a whole lot of those in town these days.

- I've got another one for you. - Huh?

If the dead man isn't Kevin Keats,

then where is Kevin Keats?

Mayor Booth, how does it feel

having a killer running loose in your community?

You say there's a killer here.

It's my feelin' he's long gone by now.

Certainly not one of my neighbors.

Outsider for sure.

And what is sheriff Tupper doing about it?

Has he requested help from the state police?

No need.

Us cabot covers can handle our own problems.

Be a lot easier without strangers

and outsiders buttin' in.

I can tell you that.

Has sheriff Tupper explained to your satisfaction

how a bomb got aboard a boat that he leased to the victim?

Lady, just point that contraption

in somebody else's direction!

Where the, where have you been?

I didn't know I was lost.

When your office doesn't know where you are, you are lost.

Nick, look, you are sitting

on the hottest story of the year.

Now, the ratings on this are going to shoot through the roof.

The network is going all-out on promos,

so, please, Nick, give me a show to go with that hype.

Listen, while you've been playing

the little man who wasn't there,

we've been working our butts off here.

And without Doug Helman, the indispensable producer.

You don't suppose that Doug killed Kevin

and then split, do you?

My money was on you.

- I'm afraid you're both wrong. - Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

Ah, Richard Abbott.

What was that enigmatic remark? Have they caught the killer now?

No, but Kevin Keats, apparently, is very much alive.

- You've got to be kidding. - No.

If it wasn't Keats they fished out of the drink,

just who was it?

Remember earlier, we were talking about

Mr. Helman's absence,

and you joked that he was probably off somewhere

climbing a mountain?

On the coast of maine?

Mountain climbing... frostbite.

The body that was fished out of the harbor

had two toes missing on his left foot.

Doug. Th-that's crazy.

That's unbelievable. Unbelievable.

What a segment.

Keats thought dead. Keats not dead.

Producer dies in mysterious explosion.

You got a real twist there.

Guys, this is gonna be better

than the secret of Al Capone's vaults.

Brody, I want you on this right away.

I want a reedit and rewrite by Wednesday.

And I want Paula on this. Where is Paula?

I'm here. So it was Doug that was killed.

Hey, kid, we need some changes and fast.

I don't feel like changing.

I need help. Can we talk?

Paula, Paula, we've got a story to get out.

Not now.

Listen, Helman didn't even want you up here.

The only reason you came is because Kevin insisted.

Now, come on. Now, let's get to work.

Let go of me, Nick.

You know where Kevin is, don't you?

You've spoken to him?

Yes, but how did you know?

Paula, you trust me.

Who would Kevin trust?

Oh, Jessica, I couldn't believe it

when he called my room.

He had to keep telling me over and over

that I wasn't dreaming.

I was laughing and crying just like a schoolgirl.

He's going to call back tonight.

Well, when he calls,

tell him that he must come forward

and explain what happened on that boat.

If he stays in hiding,

it could be too easily misinterpreted.

He's hiding because someone tried to kill him.

He was lucky to escape.

Look, the town is swarming with reporters,

but I could arrange for the sheriff

to come to my house this evening, say, after dark.

All right.

If only Doug hadn't taken me off my assignment.

That's when it began.

That was a ridiculous meeting in Doug's office.

Well, then if that's when it began,

I want to hear about it-- everything.

Then you admit that Mr. Helman

forced you to come to cabot cove for this assignment

against your will?

No, that was a put-on, an act.

Doug and I thought it up together.

I was sure that my death threats

were tied in with the pressure being put on the network

for me to drop the story about my drug-dealing art collector.

So we thought we'd take the heat off

by pretending to drop the story

and reassigning me to Cabot Cove.

Why cabot cove?

Why not go to Nebraska and cover a boy

on a girls' basketball team?

That'd be fine, except for one thing.

We had a secret witness hiding nearby here in new hampshire,

who had agreed to talk to me and only me,

about Ron Ross and some of his other

South American drug connections.

New Hampshire?

Two hours by car.

Uh, but you didn't take a car. You took a boat.

That was supposed to be my cover.

Oh, I see.

You wanted everyone to believe that you were on a boat

in the middle of the harbor,

whereas you were really on your way to new hampshire?

Exactly.

You know, I really meant to finish our interview first,

but then along came the sheriff here

and forced me to accelerate my plan.

When'd I do that?

Uh, Amos, I think it was when you described

the big fella getting off the helicopter.

- Oh. - Gerald Foster.

Ron Ross's enforcer.

With him in town, I had to disappear.

That's when I asked the sheriff for the boat.

Augie wilkin had the only one in town for rent,

and I couldn't get ahold of him till around 8:00 at night.

And as soon as I heard from you,

I called Doug in new York

and told him to get up here on the double.

Now, this was the first time that you formulated your plan?

Mm-hmm.

And then he came up here,

and you staged the fight in front of the hotel manager?

Exactly. Just another part of the act.

Ah.

Then Mr. Helman was already on the boat

when you got on board?

Funny, I didn't see him.

You weren't supposed to.

See, you or anybody else watching

was supposed to see me get on the boat,

putt-putt out into the harbor.

What they wouldn't see was Doug take over the helm

while I slipped over the other side

and swam under the pier.

Mr. Keats, I was standin' right there

when that boat blew up.

Now, you could've come out of hidin'

and hollered to me, but you didn't do that.

No, I didn't.

No, you disappeared.

Where'd you go? What did you do?

I'm sorry. I can't tell you that.

Well, I'm afraid I don't think much

of your so-called plan.

It wasn't part of my plan for the boat to blow up

and lose the best friend I ever had.

I don't know how Ross' man did it,

but that bomb was meant for me.

No, I don't think it could've been Ross' man.

Sheriff, what are you getting at?

Only that if Ross's man somehow knew

that there was going to be a boat,

he'd know which one, and where it was going to be,

and I didn't even know that until 8:00 the night before.

Now, did you discuss this with anyone else besides Mr. Helman?

No, and I'm certain Doug didn't either.

I mean, we'd agreed between us to keep our plan a secret.

Well, then Mr. Ross' man couldn't have known

you were going out on a boat until he followed you.

Seems to me, he couldn't have set that bomb.

Do you have any trouble with that, Mrs. Fletcher?

Actually, Amos, no.

Well, I have trouble with it Sheriff.

Kevin didn't kill anyone.

Why do you think he turned himself in?

Maybe because he's a pretty smart fella.

Sorry, ma'am but it adds up only one way.

Either Mr. Helman set that bomb to blow himself up,

or Mr. Keats here did it for him.

Where's the sheriff?

Sheriff, are there any new developments in the case?

Sorry, fellas.

Has Kevin Keats signed a confession yet?

No statement, fellas.

Has he explained to you where he was

when he disappeared?

- I can't talk now! - Amos Tupper.

Miss Polsby.

First of all, I am not one of the "fellas," hmm?

And secondly, as society editor of the cabot cove gazette,

I have a right to talk to Kevin Keats.

He's in jail, ma'am,

and nobody from the press gets to see him.

Nobody, period.

Then why was Paula Roman allowed in?

I have been told that she is in with him now.

Miss Roman is different. It's personal.

Now if you'll excuse me.

Why is she any different from the rest of us?

Sheriff!

Nice, huh? All the comforts of home.

I never should have let you talk me into coming in.

And what were you gonna to do?

Run? With your face?

You're almost as famous as Ronald Mcdonald.

I don't suppose there's a lawyer on the way?

Not yet.

Look, Kevin, you know what we have out there?

Three networks, two cables,

five independents and the world press.

As long as you're in here, you belong to scrutiny.

Brody wants me locked up?

Only until after this special, the former Kevin Keats's eulogy.

And the sheriff has even given his permission

to let you tape your narration in here.

I don't want to tape my narration in here.

I want outta here! I'm sorry.

Richard and Nick want you here.

To boost their precious ratings, huh?

Is this how far we've come, babe?

To this? Hmm?

- Mrs. Keats? - Oh, hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'd ask you to join me,

but I've already finished my daily consumption.

Besides that, I have an appointment.

An exclusive interview with something called

scandal U.S.A.

they're paying me a bundle for the inside scoop

on a lousy marriage.

Well, this won't take long.

When your husband was in hiding, was he with you?

I wish. Is that what he told you?

No, but something isn't quite right,

and I'm just trying to sort it out, that's all.

Sounds to me like Kevin's sorted himself

right into a life sentence.

Oh, well, it doesn't matter.

His career was probably in the toilet, anyway.

Oh?

I think the network was getting ready to 86 him.

In a fit of paranoia, the big fellow told me

that they had conducted

a confidential audience research.

Oh, yes, miss Roman mentioned something about that.

Miss Roman was always up on things.

And you think that this survey

might have had an unfavorable effect on your husband?

It's just a guess.

I have been waiting years

for the great American public to find out

what I have known all along.

So long, Mrs. Fletcher.

And if you see my husband, give him my worst.

Remember me, Mr. Abbott? I'm Jessica Fletcher.

I was just on my way up to your room.

Oh, well, I was just on my way out.

Can this wait till tomorrow?

Uh, obviously, you know about Kevin Keats being under arrest?

Uh, yes, I do.

They should either charge him with murder

or let him go if they can't prove it.

Well, surely losing your star anchorman

could really hurt you in the ratings?

Oh, so you've heard about ratings here in cabot cove.

Oh, we've heard about a lot of things,

including network audience survey.

Mrs. Fletcher,

that is supposed to be confidential.

I was hoping that perhaps you could explain it to me.

Paula said that research is your area of expertise.

Oh, well, it's really very simple.

You see uh the network is always testing

the popularity of its programs by sampling its audience.

Aha.

Paula seemed to feel that, uh,

you were concerned about the latest survey.

- Really? - Yes.

She also said that you seemed, well, furtive,

when you mentioned it to Doug Helman.

Does that mean you didn't want to discuss it

in front of the others,

perhaps because of personnel involvement?

Say, one of the three anchors?

Do you read tea leaves too?

Not very well, Mr. Abbott.

If I did, I might be able to figure out

where you were when your office was unable to reach you.

Those hours when the bomb

was most likely planted on the boat?

Well, I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher,

but you're gonna have to forgo me as a suspect.

You see, in television land, when the canoe springs a leak,

one doesn't bail water.

One just looks for a new canoe.

The morning Doug Helman was killed,

I was having breakfast in New York,

with the president of another network.

When I heard the news on the radio,

I, uh, chartered a jet right here to cabot cove.

I see. And did you get the job?

Well, at this level, one doesn't ask for a job.

One lays the groundwork.

Mmm, wonderful air you have up here.

- Good afternoon, Mrs. Fletcher. - Good afternoon.

- Get it. - Mrs. Fletcher?

It's the front door again. Reporters.

Ah, they'll go away.

Darn! I didn't see that.

I guess I'm not in the same class as Seth.

Or the class he thinks he's in.

You know, it's funny.

I moved up here to cabot cove for the peace and quiet.

Ah, it doesn't really bother me.

Check.

Huh?

Bishop to King. You're one away from mate.

You mind if I, uh, freshen up my coffee?

I thought you were new to this game?

Nope, I merely said I hadn't been playing as long as seth.

Who do you think taught me?

I surrender.

Jessica, I know your mind is elsewhere.

You want to talk about it?

I just can't stop thinking about Kevin Keats' story.

That cockeyed plan he made with Helman?

There had to be an easier way to slip out of town.

Mm-hmm.

I don't remember telling you that.

You didn't.

I overheard you talking to sheriff Tupper on the phone.

Wylie, give me a ride down to the jail.

I must be sure.

I must ask you exactly what you discussed

with Mr. Helman when you called him in new York

the night before the murder.

We covered all that.

I told him about the boat,

what it looked like, where it was.

Uh, I told him about Ross' enforcer being in town.

What else?

And what did he tell you?

He said he'd catch the night plane to portland, uh--

I wanted him to bring Paula. He was against the idea.

He thought she'd get in the way, but I talked him into it.

Did Mr. Helman review the timetable of your plan?

- Oh, yeah. - Yeah.

Doug was nothing if not meticulous.

And were you alone when you made that call?

Mm-hmm, yeah, I was in my room at the hill house.

Ah. Was he alone?

Well, I don't know, I--

Yes, as a matter of fact,

he mentioned the secretary leaving early,

and anyway, I'm certain Doug would never discuss our plan

in front of a third party.

What if he didn't know or care

that there was a third party present?

Oh, if you're looking for Paula,

she just called from her room.

I'm not looking for Paula.

Well, I'd love to chat,

but I've got to finish this rewrite.

I'm afraid you'll have to change the ending too.

Any suggestions?

You might write about a respected newsman

who'd been around so long,

he's become a national institution.

He's one of the hosts of a prime-time news show

and learns that a fickle audience

prefers the show's bombastic younger man

and attractive younger woman.

It's my guess that that's the upshot

of the network audience survey Doug Helman showed you

in his office when he called you in for a meeting.

You were there when Kevin Keats

called Doug Helman from cabot cove.

- Who told you that? - You did.

Listen, Helman didn't even want you up here.

The only reason you came is because Kevin insisted.

Now, come on, sweetheart.

That subject was only discussed on the phone

between Kevin Keats and Doug Helman.

Paula must have let it slip.

I just spoke to Paula.

She didn't.

- Then Doug told me. - When?

He went straight from his office to the airport.

Next morning, he was concealed on the boat before sunrise

and dead a few minutes later.

You had to have heard that in that office.

Helman told me I was through.

He said he was sorry, but if he didn't give

in to the network on the small things,

he wouldn't get anywhere on the big ones.

You can guess how that made me feel.

The phone rang as I was starting out,

and he turned his back to me.

So you stayed to listen.

I knew he was talking to Kevin.

And I was trying to think of something

that would win Kevin over to my side.

Then I became aware of what they were getting at,

what they were setting up.

That's when I got the idea.

It just flashed in my head,

very clear and very terrifying,

because I knew I'd do it.

How did you get to cabot cove?

I drove all night.

It's not that far. Only 350 miles.

Oh, about the bomb?

Well, you don't get to be a 63-year-old reporter

without learning something.

But what did killing Mr. Helman solve for you?

He was only following the network's orders.

Without Helman, I had a better than even chance

of staying with the show.

I had more experience than any of them.

To hell with the audience research.

So I wasn't young, vicious, or even pretty,

but I was the one who could talk sense to them.

I'm a newsman. I'm not a performer.

I tried to tell Doug that.

And whatever he started out believing,

in the end,

he bought the idea that the wrapping paper--

The wrapping paper--

Was more important than the package.

If you don't mind, I'd like to finish this rewrite

while we're waiting for the sheriff.

Just dial nine for an outside line.