All language subtitles for MrSWr3E10.Stage.Struck.

Who is it? Who's back there?

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Not here. Somebody's gonna see us.

Relax, Pru. Maggie doesn't own me.

I'm sorry the kid died.

Rest her soul, but it's good for business.

The killer must have been after Maggie.

Murder by mistake.

I'd think you'd leap at the chance to go on.

On opening night?

Maggie did this to me once before.

She's not going to do it again.

Well, I'll be damned.

We're going to die before we get back on broadway.

I wonder if the audience is coming to see the play

or another murder.

Hey! Stop!

- Why'd you pick this theater? - Why'd you pick this play?

Are you planning on taking it to broadway?

Is there anything going on between you two?

How about a kiss?

Mr. Lord, whose idea was this reunion?

Miss Tarrow, was your stay

at that Arizona health clinic a success?

Well, the weather was dry, and so am I.

Does this mean the battling lords

are rekindling their romance?

Mmm, I'm not sure. Bonfires can be dangerous.

But it must be terribly romantic to come back

to where you had your first torrid affair so long ago.

Ah, yes, when we were married for the first time.

20 years isn't so long.

She just dropped 10 years without batting a false eyelash.

Excuse me, Miss Tarrow, wasn't that 30 years?

And who are you, the bureau of birth dates?

She's starting in already.

I told you that would happen.

Relax, Alex. We're selling out.

You may be producing this opus, Mr. Saperstein,

but it's my theater and my production.

The focus should be on the play.

Oh, don't hand me that.

The reason we're selling tickets is,

people want to see the battling lords,

the couple that trashes hotel rooms.

- Miss Bennington! - Miss Bennington!

Oh, she's fabulous.

Miss Bennington, you're a very successful

soap opera star.

Why did you take an understudy job?

Well, it was such an honor for me to be asked,

not that I'd ever dream of being able

to replace Miss Tarrow.

Of course, I haven't missed a performance in 30--20 years.

It helps that she hasn't been on stage for the past ten.

Ladies and gentlemen, we would be happy

to go on talking to you all day.

Speak for yourself, darling.

However, Miss Tarrow and I have a dress rehearsal.

- Jessica! - Julian!

- Jessica, love. - Oh, Julian.

- And Maggie. - Jessica, oh.

How wonderful to see you, both of you.

What's your angle here, Mrs. Fletcher?

Writing a book about these old troupers?

Old troupers?

May I remind you I was starring in movies

when you were just a college graduate.

Mrs. Fletcher was a valued member of our company

that summer too.

Oh.

I was delighted when Alexander invited me.

It was a great chance to see my old--My good friends.

So we can add acting to your list of credits, Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, certainly not.

No, but I was applewood's second-best set painter.

And in case you haven't guessed, there were only two.

Well, here we are.

Always different, yet always the same.

I must confess to a certain fondness for this theater.

Remember how much fun we had here that summer,

the four of us?

Oh, but where's that sweet boy you married?

Ah, Fred?

- Frank. - Oh.

- He died a few years ago. - Oh.

Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you knew.

Julian came to the funeral.

Oh, well, I wish somebody had told me.

You know, he was so fond of both of you.

In fact, in a way, he carried on the torch.

He formed the Cabot Cove dramatic society.

I can't tell you how much

those weekends in Cabot Cove meant to me.

Julian, why don't you run along

and study your lines or something?

I'm stealing Jessica.

We have oodles to catch up on.

Jessica, dear heart,

did Julian ever visit you after Frank passed on?

Maggie, all he ever talked about was you.

Well, I wish he'd talk about me to my face.

So are you two back together again,

not just on the marquee?

Actually, I haven't seen Julian in years.

But being back here in this magical place...

it does seem to make anything possible, doesn't it?

However unlikely.

Mmm, some wine?

Not right now, thanks.

Oh, my doctor would have a fit if he saw this,

but he has never had to face

the sharp point of a critic's pencil.

Ah.

Ah! Julian!

If this is your idea of a joke!

What?

This was in my makeup case!

Oh, what a relief. Miss Tarrow, I heard you scream.

I'm fine.

I don't know what I'd do if I had to go on for you.

You can cut the sweetness act, ballerina.

I've seen that movie too.

But, Helen, he's a cad. Charm isn't everything.

"Who cares about the other 5%?

I love him, Victor. I can't help myself."

Neither can I.

Larry, the line goes, "that kind" --

I know how the line goes.

Not here. Somebody's gonna see us.

Relax, Pru. Maggie doesn't own me.

No, but I do pay the rent.

We were just... running lines.

Larry, may I suggest that you save your performance,

such as it is, for the stage?

And, Pru, darling, remind me.

You are the resident stage manager, yes?

Not the resident bedspread.

We don't choose who we love.

If we did, do you think I'd fall all over again

for that human bacteria?

But, Helen, he's a cad.

"Charm isn't everything."

Charm isn't everything. Charm isn't everything!

Oh, damn it! I'm sorry.

Oh, shh-shh, my love, it's all right.

It happens to--

Who is it? Who's back there?

Pru! No visitors!

You were at the press conference.

A reporter backstage? Alexander!

T.J.'s not a reporter, Miss Tarrow.

He's my fiance from New York.

Mr. Preston, you said it would be all right.

Yes, well, just try to keep out of the way.

- Okay, Terry? - Perfect.

Just don't let her find out who I really am.

Not to worry, Maggie. Everything's under control.

As long as we've stopped, Alex.

Yes, chief drock?

- Chief? - Of police.

What's my motivation in this scene?

You're a Butler. Your motivation is to "butle."

Ah!

In my day, they always had to give a role to the Mayor.

Yeah, well, I guess political wheels

always have to be greased,

but chief Drock's really the worst.

Oh, I don't know.

The Mayor thought that hamlet

was about a soldier named Marcellus

who happened to work for the prince.

Oh.

Oh, darling,

the last thing a woman wants to see

after leaving her husband are photos

of her lover's previous marriage.

But these are of our previous marriage.

Oh.

Oh.

Look, here we are at the altar. And here we are in court.

How could you do this to me?

- Maggie! - Julian?

Is she all right?

Pru, call a doctor.

- Get a glass of water. - I've got it.

I think there's a first aid in the back.

Bring the water now!

She just needs some rest.

- Julian. - Yes, darling, I'm here.

It was him, Julian. It was him.

Jessica, would you stay with her for a minute?

- Oh, yes, of course. - Thank you.

But the doctor says she's okay!

If you want her for tonight,

you must let her rest now. Take her back to the hotel.

What is with you guys?

-We've got technical stuff- -They know their parts.

The understudies can finish rehearsal.

Thank you, Alex.

Places for act two.

Understudies! Come on, understudies!

Pru, where did you find the scrapbook?

I didn't know I'd lost it. But it wasn't here earlier.

Well, now it's back where it belongs.

May I have a look at it? Just put it back right there.

The doctor simply will not allow her to go on.

Doctors. What do they know?

Can they help me with the back I got against the wall here?

What about the neck I broke getting the critics

up here to Sunnybrook farm tonight?

Don't you understand?

She's at the hotel under sedation.

Tomorrow the critics will be back in civilization.

Deniro's opening in a one-man show.

Well, looks like I'll just have to opt

for the star is born approach.

Alex, you tell Barbara she's going on.

What?

Now look, kiddo, my backers are very nervous about Maggie.

You know her reputation.

Don't worry.

You and only you will have your name above the title.

Barbara's name will be down at the bottom

in little tiny letters.

Who do you think you're kidding, kiddo?

You have a personal services contract

with Barbara Bennington.

That has nothing to do with it.

Which no doubt includes

other kinds of services from her as well.

Will you get your mind out of your pants?

Stop trying to run this show from yours!

Barbara was great in rehearsal.

You may put Barbara Bennington on if you please,

but not with me!

Believe me, I'm behind your decision 100%.

My goodness, Miss Bennington.

I'd think you'd leap at the chance to go on.

On opening night?

With one rehearsal, in front of critics?

That kind of career break I don't need.

Julian, I'm worried about Maggie.

I'm afraid someone is trying to frighten her.

First with the note and then with the scrapbook.

Maggie's imagination has been a little overactive lately.

Well, did she tell you what she saw in the scrapbook?

Now hear me out, Julian.

The days when emotional prima donnas

ruled the theater are gone.

It simply costs too much to mount a production.

Nicky's budget isn't what's really bothering you,

is it, Alex?

Damn it! Maggie did this to me once before.

She's not going to do it again.

Forgive me, Alex.

Perhaps Maggie has good reason to be upset.

Oh, Jessica, please!

I'll tell you what. I'll make a deal with you.

I'll go on tonight if you can convince Nicky

that Maggie resumes the role tomorrow.

Very well.

But this is her last chance.

And remember, your first stage entrance

has been changed to upstage right, okay?

I know where I come in, sweetie.

Oh, I'm sorry to interrupt.

Julian asked me to get Maggie's sweater.

- He said it was on the rack. - Help yourself, please.

Thanks.

Stage fright?

How about sheer terror?

Look, maybe a glass of wine would help you

calm your nerves, huh?

Red wine? Swell, honey, that's all I need.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to snap. It's this pressure, that's all.

Time? What is time to me?

The past is present, then is now.

It is not a question of starting afresh.

We merely pick up from where we left off.

James, that will do.

- You make it seem so easy. - It is easy. Trust me.

I may regret this in the morning.

May god, help me, I do.

Well, darling, what is it to be?

Shall we go for marriage number three?

But first, we must get rid of our number twos.

Fifteen minutes for intermission.

Fifteen minutes!

Jessica, how's it look from the front?

Oh, wonderful.

Julian, look, I don't want to worry you,

but I've been trying to call Maggie,

you know, just to check up,

and I keep getting the busy signal.

No, not to worry.

She takes the phone off the hook when she sleeps.

- Barbara? - Oh!

We really must bring in the police.

I'm afraid, Jessica, that is the police.

You can't be serious, Alex.

I mean, that's all right for summonses or whatever,

but a murder?

This is his jurisdiction, Julian.

Unless he asks for help from the state police,

they won't interfere.

Ladies and gentlemen, I have discovered

that miss Barbara Bennington was murdered by poison.

- Brilliant. - Merci.

Uh, chief, I think you'll find

that the poison used was cyanide.

Ah, yes, the odor of bitter almonds.

I noticed it myself.

The questions become immediately apparent.

How was the poison administered? When?

And who would wish to kill miss Barbara Bennington?

Chief, it has no doubt occurred to you

that the killer must have been after Maggie.

After all, Barbara only took the role on very short notice.

Intriguing. Murder by mistake.

Mrs. Fletcher, you will accompany me

to the dressing room.

Your observations will be most helpful to me

in this inquiry, n'est-ce pas?

Good Lord, I think he's playing hercule poirot.

Yes. And badly too.

Chief, are you all right?

Just a bad case of stage fright.

- How did I seem? - Seem?

My performance.

I mean, did I exude confidence, professionalism?

- Oh, yes, but-- - I could give it more.

Oh, no, no, I think you gave it plenty, but chief--

Mrs. Fletcher, I have been chief of police in this township

for the last 13 years.

It's a very drab job for a very drab man.

- Oh, no. - Let me finish, Mrs. Fletcher.

As chief merton p. Drock,

I could never even attempt this investigation.

It's only in performing a role that I come alive,

authoritative, outgoing, interesting.

Ah, I see.

This responsibility to be inspector maigret,

eh, monsieur Poirot, whoever--

And I am convinced that with your help,

I can carry it off.

My help?

Otherwise, I see no choice but to resign my office.

But, chief, you see I'm really not a detective.

Dear lady, I have read all your books.

I know of your reputation.

If anyone can steer me to the truth, it is you.

Well, I certainly wouldn't want to see

a murder go unsolved.

Good!

Then you shall write the scenario,

and I shall play the part.

And together, we shall be unbeatable.

Now, where shall we begin?

Well, I think that we should start with that bottle of wine.

Unless my nose deceives me, your bitter almonds.

You're right.

You know, I think it also might be wise to take samples

from the soda, from the coffee,

oh, yes, and also from all of those props on stage.

But, Mrs. Fletcher, if the decanter of grape juice

had been poisoned,

then Julian would also have been killed.

Chief, the first rule: be thorough.

Explore every possibility.

I am so very grateful to you, Mrs. Fletcher.

To our partnership.

Jessica, tell me the truth.

Is somebody trying to kill me?

I was hoping that you could tell me.

Now the killer may very well have been after Barbara.

Of course.

So you see, there's nothing to be frightened of.

Now sit down, darling, eat your eggs.

You have a performance tonight.

I'm not going back to that theater.

He'll only try to kill me again.

He?

Nobody's trying to get you, darling,

except perhaps the critics,

and they were all there last night.

Now stop all this foolishness. Everybody's relying on you.

- Alex! - Jessica!

Good morning. How's Maggie?

Well, she's better, but she's still a little nervous.

Alex, you said something to Julian last night

about Maggie having done this to you before?

Well, it's hardly a secret.

30 years ago, when we took the play to broadway,

Julian and Maggie had run of the play contracts.

Which means they were obligated

to remain with the show as long as it ran.

Exactly, but after a few months, Maggie wanted out,

to do a movie, she said.

Her lawyers threatened to Sue, so I let her leave.

Yes, but Maggie didn't make her first movie

until several years later.

She just disappeared for almost a year.

It had been a ruse to get out of the show.

I wonder why?

Maggie's always been highly strung,

but I've never seen her quite as bad as this.

Well, perhaps she shouldn't go on.

What's that, Gerry?

Wait, I can't hear you. We got a bad connection.

I got to call you back.

Maggie's got to go on.

We're all over the New York papers.

Isn't it the murder

that's all over the New York papers, Mr. Saperstein?

Look, I'm sorry the kid died.

Rest her soul, but it's good for business.

You mean, it's good for your business.

What are you saying?

That I killed an understudy

just to get this show on broadway?

I bring news!

But let's adjourn to somewhere more private.

My dressing room perhaps?

Hey!

Cyanide was indeed responsible for the death

of our luckless "thespianette."

Ah! The prop decanter from the stage?

Alas no.

Everything else was clean, save for the--

The red wine in the dressing room?

The red wine in the dressing room!

Yes, but that still doesn't tell us

who the murderer wanted to kill.

Au contraire.

Obviously the villain doctored the wine earlier in the day,

intending for it to be consumed by Maggie Tarrow.

And what better suspect

than the mistreated lover, Julian Lord.

Chief, you don't really believe

that Julian wants to kill Maggie.

Besides, the wine could have been laced just before the show.

Lots of people went in and out of that dressing room.

All of whom knew Barbara replaced Maggie.

In which case, the killer could have gotten exactly

who he or she intended.

But of course! Maggie Tarrow.

Didn't we just go through this?

Not Maggie, Barbara.

You need not repeat yourself, Sir.

I am not an imbecile.

I meant that Maggie could have killed Barbara.

Maggie was asleep at the hotel.

She could have taken the phone off the hook,

left the hotel unobserved, and come back to the theater.

Well, I hardly think

that Maggie could go unobserved anywhere.

No, chief, I think that our answer

is up there on that stage,

and I really believe that it has something to do

with that scrapbook.

That's about the worst paintjob I've ever seen.

It's so frustrating.

I can't get the perspective right.

What's your name again?

Jessica.

Mine's Frank. Frank Fletcher.

Here, let me show you.

Put the paintbrush in your hand,

and I'll guide it.

I'm just gonna get my script.

Oh, Larry, we've got to be careful.

Oh, come on.

Nobody knows except Maggie,

and she's so soused up all the time,

she doesn't know what she's seeing.

Besides, I can take care of her.

Chief drock saw you leave my house this morning.

Well, he's got a murder on his hands.

And I've got you in mine. Come on.

All vanilla, extra nuts, no cherry, right?

You have quite a memory, Eddie.

I remember everything about that summer, Jessica:

how bright the apple blossoms were,

how beautiful Miss Tarrow was.

- She's as wonderful as ever. - Mm-hmm.

I also remember that tall fellow

who used to follow you around everywhere.

- Frank. - Yeah, Frank.

My dad used to yell at him for snitching extra nuts.

Well, tell me about yourself, Eddie.

Not much to tell. Never married.

Nobody ever measured up to Miss Tarrow.

And you're still a prop man at the theater.

Keeps me busy.

You know, there's one thing I've always wondered about.

When a prop like a notebook is used in a play,

are the pages always just blank?

Unless the actors need help with their lines.

So that scrapbook in the play has always been empty.

Sure. Miss Tarrow's a pro.

She doesn't need that kind of help.

Faithful? I've always been faithful.

Not always to you, but I could be.

I shall be again one more time.

What is time to me?

The past is present, then is now.

It is not a question of starting afresh.

We merely pick up from where we left off.

- You make it sound so easy. - Well, it is easy. Trust me.

I may regret it in the morning,

but god help me, I do.

So what is it to be, darling?

Shall we go for marriage number three?

First we've got to get rid of our number twos.

It was cyanide. I smelled it in the glass.

But that's impossible.

- I'm afraid so. - Well, I'll be damned.

We're going to die before we get back on broadway.

Somebody must have put the cyanide into the decanter

just before it was taken onstage.

You see, Mrs. Fletcher,

someone is trying to kill Maggie.

Now, who had access to the decanter?

I believe you did, chief.

That's ridiculous!

I simply brought it on the stage.

Pru gave it to me, and I--

Of course.

Pru, I think you and I have some things to discuss.

Well, that's insane. I didn't do anything.

Mrs. Fletcher!

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, it all seemed so clear, so obvious.

If Pru had given me the decanter laced with poison--

But the decanter wasn't guarded.

Anyone backstage could have slipped the cyanide

into the grape juice.

But she had motive.

I saw Larry Matthew leaving her house

early yesterday morning.

And with Maggie out of the way,

Pru would have had Larry all to herself.

Chief, in all your years in the theater,

you must have seen dozens of backstage romances.

Perhaps even been part of a few?

I mean, how many have you known that ended in murder?

You can't just flail around Willy-nilly theorizing.

You need evidence.

Yes, you're right. Evidence.

And I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.

From now on, you're calling the shots.

You try it, Preston, and I'll-yeah, what is it?

Excuse me, have you seen Maggie or Julian?

- They're not in their hotel. - Yeah.

Try the unemployment line.

Well, surely you're not closing.

- Don't look at me. - I'm sorry, Jessica.

But it's too dangerous to stay open

with some maniac on the loose.

And never mind that there's a line

around the corner for tickets!

Mr. Saperstein, I wonder if the audience is coming

to see the play or another murder.

This is my theater.

I refuse to accept responsibility

for any further mayhem.

It may be your theater, but we've got a contract.

You close my play,

my lawyers won't leave you a splinter of that stage.

- Oh, Mr. Matthew. - Oh, hi, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm just trying to get this lighter to work.

It failed miserably last night.

So I understand you were around

when this old barn first got started.

Oh, yes, but I quickly learned

that I wasn't much of an actress.

But you're sure one helluva writer.

Oh, that's what I'm thinking of doing,

writing my own play, so I can star in it myself.

Oh, yes.

Mr. Matthew, yesterday, I couldn't help overhearing

when you were talking backstage to Pru.

Yes?

You said something about taking care of Maggie.

Oh, but I'd never hurt Maggie. I owe her too much.

Yes, of course.

She got you this job, didn't she?

Sure, but there's nothing between us.

It's, uh, it's all show.

Designed to make Julian jealous.

That sounds like Maggie. By the way, have you seen them?

Yes, they were in her dressing room a few minutes ago.

What miss Tarrow sees in that guy Julian, I'll never know.

I've got some new props here. Will you see Pru gets them?

Oh, sure.

After 30 years,

you'd think Maggie would've learned her lesson.

If I'm going to help,

you have got to be honest with me.

But, Jessica, we always have been.

Look, I know that you've lived your lives

in the glare of the press,

and that has made you cautious, but I'm your friend.

Now, none of us wants anyone else to get hurt.

If we knew anything, darling, we would tell you.

But you do, Maggie.

You know what was written on that note

in your makeup case, for example.

What happened 30 years ago?

Something very wonderful. We fell in love.

Our play went to broadway. We were the toast of manhattan.

We had each other, and...

but then something happened.

You told Alexander that you had a movie offer

but disappeared instead.

- Maggie. - Julian, no.

Then it's pointless to ask what you saw in that scrapbook.

Jessica, I can't. Please, please, don't ask me.

Whoever is behind all this has gone to a great deal of trouble.

Whose idea was it, anyway, to do this revival?

Well, Nicky Saperstein called and said

that Julian had agreed to do it if I would.

He told me the same about you.

- That snake! - Oh, darling.

After all, he is a producer.

But with this secret hanging between you,

I mean, why did you agree to come back here?

Well, if truth be told, I wanted to prove

that I could still do something other than camera commercials.

I used to be quite respected, you know.

And I needed a job.

Oh, I know, my name is all over the papers and all that,

but I need to work.

And you know something?

I'm not gonna let some practical joker stop me.

I'm going on tonight.

Julian, obviously you wanted to tell me more than Maggie did.

What did she see in that scrapbook?

I have to know if I'm to help.

I'm sorry, Jess. I must respect Maggie's wishes.

Julian, Alexander told me that 30 years ago,

Maggie disappeared for almost a year.

Nine months is almost a year.

I'm sorry. This is a scene in which I have no lines.

- Mr. Holt. - Mrs. Fletcher.

How long have you been standing here listening?

I don't know what you're talking about.

Excuse me.

You know, it seems very strange to me.

Surely, surely a fiance would've wanted to accompany

his loved one's body back to manhattan for burial.

Burial is a pagan custom, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm much more interested in learning who killed Barbara.

No, I've been watching you, and frankly,

you're far more interested in the lives of Julian and Maggie.

And I've been watching you nosing around.

And frankly, ma'am, forgive me,

but you are something of a busybody.

Well, call it professional curiosity.

Who are you, Mr. Holt?

And just exactly what are you doing here?

I'm sure the state police will be able

to find out your identity and your place of birth.

Larry Matthew. Photo, resume.

Just what is it you're looking for, Jessica?

Vital statistics.

If you're looking for accuracy on an actor's resume,

my dear, you're looking in the wrong place.

Ah, here we go, Mr. Preston.

The bill for the new props.

Antique picture frame, couple of quarts of grape juice,

and a glass to replace the one

that got lost right after opening night.

I'll put this with the others. Thank you, Eddie.

Ah, I'd appreciate a check, Mr. Preston.

The tab's getting a little high.

Alexander Morgan Preston.

You will excuse us, Mr. Bender.

Official business.

Well, I-yeah, sure. Yeah.

And what can I do for you, chief?

It came to me like a flash of light.

I have been very blind.

Who better than you has motive to want to kill Maggie Tarrow?

Uh, chief.

Uh, really, I-

this is absurd!

Maggie Tarrow cost you a bundle

when she left the play.

So you persuaded Nicky Saperstein

to produce this revival for the sole purpose

of wreaking this revenge.

After 30 years?

And why would Alexander want to close down the play now?

You slipped into Maggie Tarrow's dressing room,

and you put the cyanide in the red wine,

which you knew it was her habit to drink before the performance.

I did no such thing.

But Barbara drank the wine by mistake.

But chief, cyanide works in a matter of minutes.

She never could have made it through the first act.

Well, then he laced the wine during the intermission.

During the intermission,

I was in the box office counting

the receipts with Mr. Saperstein.

Besides, by that time,

everybody knew that Barbara was playing the part,

so if anybody had laced

the wine during the intermission,

it was Barbara that they meant to kill.

Hey! Stop!

Hey, somebody stop that guy!

- I order you to stop! - Larry? Mr. Holt?

I said, cease!

He took something from Maggie's dressing room.

A birth certificate?

Admit it, Mr. Holt.

You were about to plant that birth certificate

in Maggie Tarrow's dressing room,

just as you planted that note in her makeup case,

just as-- note? What note?

Just as you tried to kill Maggie Tarrow

because she deserted you as a baby.

Ah, chief, didn't we have a little talk once

about accusations?

As well as evidence,

Mrs. Fletcher, which we now have.

- Chief drock. - What is it?

Half-hour till curtain.

Oh. Well, we can finish this later.

Yes, but chief, I really think that discovering

Mr. Holt's real identity is far more important

than changing for the show.

Wrong, Mrs. Fletcher. The show must go on.

Besides, we know his real identity.

This man who calls himself terrence j. Holt is undoubtedly

the son of Maggie Tarrow and Julian Lord.

I was taking that certificate from the dressing room,

and I can prove I'm not their son.

I do have a birth certificate of my own.

- And a job of your own? - A job?

Mr. Holt, you're much too knowledgeable

about the lives of Maggie and Julian,

and if your interest isn't personal,

then it has to be professional.

- So I'm writing a biography. - An unauthorized biography.

Okay, look, Barbara was an acquaintance.

When she got this job, we made a deal.

She pretended to be my fiancee so I could hang around

and watch those two birds firsthand.

But what was your end of the deal?

I had to tell her everything I knew about Maggie.

But why?

I think that she came here to be more than an understudy.

She saw it as a chance to further her career,

but to do that she'd need to remove Maggie from the picture.

Yeah, she got real jazzed

when I told her the rumor about the kid.

Oh, so it was Barbara who tracked down

the birth certificate.

She told me she got it by bribing hospital officials.

I've been searching for it ever since she was killed.

You see, that's what I was doing in the dressing room.

You see, first she plants the note in Maggie's makeup case.

Then she puts the certificate in the scrapbook

to drive Maggie over the edge.

She must have retrieved it

in the commotion after Maggie collapsed.

So she could go on opening night.

Now, that's a motive I understand.

But how did you know the birth certificate

was in Maggie's dressing room?

I didn't.

It was the only place I hadn't looked.

Hey, I didn't figure any of this out

until just a little while ago.

Chief, this all explains why Maggie thought Julian

was responsible for the note and the certificate.

Who else could have known?

And why she was so upset when she saw Mr. Holt in the wings.

She thought that he was her son.

That's why she told Julian, "it was him."

But why didn't she tell us, me?

Oh, I don't know, chief.

Guilt for having abandoned her only child 30 years ago.

You saw the way she reacted. The scars must be very deep.

Yes, it's all very clear to me now.

You killed Barbara Bennington

so you could obtain the birth certificate.

What? Aw, come on. You're just blowing smoke!

You poisoned her by putting cyanide in the red wine

in that dressing room.

But she couldn't have been poisoned like that.

Barbara was allergic to red wine.

She never drank it.

Of course!

Before the show, Barbara took her aspirin with soda.

She wouldn't drink the red wine.

Well, then how was she poisoned?

Everything else tested clean.

I think I know the answer to that.

Chief, we've got work to do.

Five minutes to curtain.

I know what you're doing, Mrs. Fletcher.

I wish you would tell me why.

I'm sorry, chief, I can't. Not this time.

You'll just have to trust me.

Stay on top of your cues

and don't rattle this evening, Mr. Larry.

It's Larry Matthew, Sir.

Have you ever thought of changing your name?

I already did.

That's quite some woman you're marrying again.

You're a good sport to let her go.

Well, I wonder if you'll think so after you read this.

- What is it, darling? - He's suing.

What is it, darling?

He's suing you for alimony.

Oh, well, at least

we've got each other.

You know what they say, darling: finders keepers, losers reapers.

Hello, broadway! You were great.

I'm forced to admit that you were both more than adequate.

Alex, I think I can get us the Aurora theater!

The Aurora? That jinx house?

Don't start with me.

Ladies and gentlemen, I hate to put a damper

on these well-deserved celebrations,

but I have discerned the identity

of miss Barbara Bennington's murderer,

and the killer is among us on this very stage.

Chief drock, before you--

Our murderer's intention from the very first

was to remove from our sky the bright star

that is Maggie Tarrow.

Killing Barbara Bennington was a mistake.

And our villain made another mistake tonight.

A trap was set,

a trap into which our killer was, uh... trapped.

Mr. Lord, may I see that letter?

Surely, not in front of everybody.

Mr. Lord, the letter.

Chief, no!

Mrs. Fletcher, your assistance in this case

has been invaluable, but the scenario is over.

Allow me my moment.

Mr. Lord, may I have the letter?

Witness: the birth certificate for the long lost son

of Julian Lord and Maggie Tarrow.

The son who is among us even now.

Are you not, Larry Matthew?

- What? - An almost perfect crime

if you hadn't made one tiny but enormous slip.

Before the show, you admitted that you had changed your name.

You killed Barbara Bennington by mistake

intending to kill the mother who had deserted you

and denied you her name.

Take him away!

You're crazy. I didn't murder anyone.

Maggie, I'm sorry.

I'm sorry I had lied to you, Jessica,

but you have to understand.

I can't remember a single day

when I haven't wondered what happened to him.

We made a decision, darling.

He has never been part of our life nor ever can be,

but whoever he is, he certainly is not Larry Matthew.

Oh, that fool chief.

What in heaven's name was he trying to prove?

Don't blame the chief, Julian, or Larry.

Substituting the birth certificate for the letter

was my doing.

Jessica, how could you?

I was certain Julian would never let you see it,

but I had to be sure.

His reaction confirmed my worst suspicions.

I'm terribly sorry.

I see now I should have confided in the chief,

but I couldn't rely on his discretion.

Jessica, what are you talking about?

Barbara wasn't poisoned

by the red wine in the dressing room.

That meant she could've only been poisoned on the stage.

But there was no poison in the decanter.

No, not the decanter. The poison was in the glass.

Barbara's glass, only Barbara's glass.

I don't see how that's possible.

Eddie replaced the glass which disappeared on opening night.

Why did it disappear?

Because no amount of scrubbing could remove

the microscopic traces of poison

a state police lab might uncover.

Julian?

Jessica, whatever you're thinking, you're wrong.

You don't know how much I wish that were true.

Oh, Jessica, dear, what are you talking about?

Shall I tell her or will you?

Only one person could control

who got the poisoned glass onstage,

and that person had the perfect alibi.

Hundreds of people saw him pour both drinks from the decanter.

Julian?

You then planted some poison in the red wine here

during intermission to misdirect attention.

You didn't know that Barbara couldn't drink red wine.

And then to further ensure that we believed

that the killer was after Maggie,

you staged the second murder attempt last night.

Julian, you could've killed me.

No. Never.

He knew he'd be able to prevent you

from drinking the poison

by smelling its distinctive odor.

Julian, why? Why?

Why?

To protect you, my darling, from Barbara.

She was the one who planted the birth certificate.

Oh, I figured out her game when I went back to the theater.

She'd planned it all very carefully

with the exception of my refusal to go on with her.

Yes, then the real Barbara came out.

You really want to see that lady go over the edge?

You cancel this performance,

and tomorrow's newspapers are going to have a field day.

Oh, you're going to go on tonight, Mr. Lord.

Believe me, I'm behind your decision 100%.

I-I knew I would never be free of her blackmail.

Jessica, I had to do it.

It's all my fault.

If you hadn't protected me...

I'll notify the state police.