All language subtitles for MrSWr5E02.A.Little.Night.Work.

The thieves here tonight

are into stealing elections, not diamonds.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

I’ll get back everything

that S.O.B. has cost me!

You know, I can’t remember

the last time that I was picked up

by a tall, handsome stranger.

There’s another 50,000 in it for you personally.

I can actually see the cogwheels

turning in that pretty head of yours.

Bruises all over his neck. Somebody must’ve choked him to death.

The lady I was visiting is married.

Don’t you mean "was"?

- Open the door! Police! - The balcony.

We’re early. There’s hardly anybody here.

And whose fault is that, darling?

I told you not to rush.

Shall we go back upstairs and try again in half an hour?

Don’t be smug, Marta. It doesn’t become you.

Axel!

- Marta. - Marta.

- Good to see you. - Good to see you.

- How are you? - Fine.

- Good. - Oh, is that the necklace?

Oh, my dear, it is breathtaking.

Do you think so?

I think it’s a little gaudy myself.

Axel picked it out.

You think this is such a good idea,

Marta wearing that in public?

That’s a hell of a temptation, especially in this city.

Well, ordinarily I'd agree with you,

but we live right here in the hotel, top floor penthouse.

The thieves here tonight are into stealing elections, not diamonds.

Let’s, um, grab a drink

before some idiot closes down that bar.

We’ll see you later.

Mr. Weingard, Theo Wexler.

Agency for Authors.

- We talked on the phone last week. - Oh, yes.

And this must be the charming Mrs. Weingard.

How do you do?

I can’t tell you how delighted I am, Sir,

that you are tossing your hat into the senatorial ring,

as it were.

If you’ll excuse us--

Oh, but there’s someone I want you to meet.

Uh, here she comes now. Jessica!

Theo, there you are. You know, I can’t believe it.

I almost got lost in this madhouse.

Jessica, may I introduce Axel Weingard,

president of Windsong House.

Mr. Weingard, this is--

No one has to introduce me to the great J.B. Fletcher.

Honored.

Thank you.

- My wife, Marta. - How do you do?

Jessica is my new client.

Really? I thought Jonathan Reed represented you.

Well, I’m afraid that Jonathan

has finally decided to retire, and--

And I bought out his agency.

Incidentally, Axel, J.B.’s contract

with Consolidated Publishing is about to expire.

Maybe you and I ought to sit down, and--

Wexler, when I want to do business, I do it in the office.

Call my secretary for an appointment.

However, should the occasion arise,

I’d be more than proud to publish the next J.B. Fletcher novel.

- So nice to see you. - Thank you.

- I think I blew it. - With whom?

You know, Theo, nothing has been decided yet.

I mean, about you representing me.

Well, of course, of course. Did I imply otherwise?

Hello. Dennis Stanton, isn’t it?

Miles Hatcher. We-we met earlier this summer

out at, uh, Southampton, Pidge Stanley’s place.

Oh, yes. You’re involved in condominiums or something like that.

Shinnecock park. Luxury apartments overlooking Peconic bay.

Yes, yes, of course.

Uh, well, it’s quite a soiree Mrs. Darrow is hosting here.

Yes. Yes. All the candidates

lined up to kiss the lady’s ring.

Should be quite an evening.

I didn’t realize you were into politics, Dennis.

I’m not, Mr. Hatcher. I’m into parties.

I don’t trust the stock market, Miles. Never have.

My feelings precisely. Stay with the land, I always say.

That’s why I think you should very honestly

take a hard look at Shinnecock Park.

As I told you, I still have room

for a couple of more partners.

Suppose I run it past my business manager?

Absolutely. But I wouldn’t wait too long.

Right. Well, give me a call, Miles.

I’ll do that, Theo.

Oh, sorry, Jessica. The man’s an absolute pest.

Well, yes.

There’s a place to conduct business, and this isn’t it.

Well, can I get you something? A dessert or--

No, no, no. Thank you.

Oh, my gosh. I didn’t realize he was going to be here.

Harold Bannister. He writes that terrific travel column,

"America on $10 a day."

I understand he just fired his agent. Be right back.

Oh, Mr. Bannister!

Excuse me. Would you like some more coffee?

Oh, I’d love some. Thank you.

Ms. Fletcher, ma’am, I hope you don’t think

I'm being too presumptuous, but I just had to say

that you are one hell of a fine story writer.

Well, thank you.

Andy Broom, ma’am, from Fayetteville, North Carolina.

- Hello, Andy. - I’m somethin’ of a writer myself.

Oh, that’s wonderful.

Yeah. I got loose-leaf notebooks

just filled with short stories, and I even wrote a novel.

Ms. Fletcher, I know this is kind of askin’ a lot,

but if you had some time maybe so we could talk,

I kind of need some advice.

Ooh. Um-um, maybe I could give you a call tomorrow sometime?

Absolutely.

Mrs. Fletcher?

May I have the honor of this dance?

Uh, well, I, um...

Dennis Stanton.

Mr. Wexler’s had the bad manners

to leave the most attractive woman at this gala

totally unattended,

which speaks poorly for both his upbringing

and his intelligence.

You know, I can’t remember the last time

that I was picked up by a tall, handsome stranger.

Uh, it is Mr. Stanton, isn’t it?

Dennis. I’m sure you won’t mind if I call you Jessica.

- Or do you prefer J.B.? - Oh, Jessica is fine.

Oh, by the way, you’re not a literary agent, are you?

Oh, Lord, no.

Oh, good. Last week my agent announced his retirement,

and I have been inundated with calls ever since.

Jessica, I assure you my motives are highly personal

and only moderately selfish.

Ever since I read your first book,

I’ve longed to meet this delightful widow

with a fiendishly murderous turn of mind.

Tell me, do you think the words of a truly good writer

reflect her innermost fantasies?

You mean, uh, do I ever feel overwhelmed

by an urge to dispatch my enemies

with the nearest available weapon?

Well, I’m sorry to disappoint you,

but I abhor violence.

Oh, me too. So messy.

- Oh, I’m not sure about that. - Of course you are.

Hello again, Jessica. I was in the neighborhood. I thought I’d drop in.

Dennis, what are you doing out here?

Well, it’s silly, of course.

I was out on my balcony getting a little night air,

and when I came back in, I discovered I’d locked myself out of my room.

You climbed down from up there?

It was either that or jump.

I’ve misplaced my parachute.

I do hope you’ll forgive the intrusion.

You’ve saved me no end of embarrassment.

Au revoir.

On the other hand, no sense in rushing off.

I don’t suppose you’d care to offer me a nightcap?

No, no, I-I wouldn’t. Even if I had one, I wouldn’t.

Dennis, what is going on here?

Discretion requires that I be as vague about that as possible.

But if someone should come to the door,

I would deem it a great personal favor

if you would tell them that I’ve been here

for the last 30 minutes or so.

I most certainly will do no such thing.

Oh.

Then you’d prefer to see me

shredded like a head of cabbage by an irate husband?

Oh.

I see. You were, uh...

Yes, I was almost caught in an indelicate situation with a charming woman

whose only failing is a suffocating marriage with the wrong man.

But I see no need to delve into details. Do you?

Fantastic luck. The coast is clear.

Adieu again, Jessica.

Meeting you has been a delight

I shall cherish forever.

There he is. Get a shot, guys. Mr. Preston, over here!

Mrs. Darrow! Mrs. Darrow!

Look. Great. Can we get a nice smile there?

Woman: can you look at our cameras, please?

Right, right. Big smiles now.

- That’s great. - Over here.

A little closer, maybe.

- Andy! - Morning, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, my goodness. They must work you 24 hours a day.

Well, not exactly. Fact is... I kinda bribed

the headwaiter to let me bring you up your breakfast.

I hope you don’t mind. Of course not.

You know, Mrs. Fletcher, you might recall last night that

I mentioned to you somethin’ about my book, my novel.

- Oh, yes. - And you bein’ such a

real professional and knowin’ about such things,

I kinda thought maybe you could give me some advice.

You see, a few months back, I mailed off my book--

My novel, here to New York, and--

Andy, excuse me. This says that there was

a Jewel robbery at the hotel last night.

Yes, ma’am. Somebody made off

with that big necklace Mrs. Weingard was wearing.

And that it "was stolen sometime between midnight

and 12:30 from Mr. Weingard’s penthouse suite."

Yes, ma’am. Yes, ma’am. They were runnin’ all around here last night,

talkin’ almost to everybody, lookin’ everyplace.

Mrs. Weingard, I hear, is real upset.

Yes, I imagine her husband wasn’t too happy either.

Well, if he knows about it. They can’t find him either.

Uh, Mrs. Fletcher, about this book of mine--

Uh, Andrew, uh, forgive me.

Uh, is it possible that Mr. Weingard’s penthouse...

could be on this side of the building?

Well, ma’am, now that you mention it, it’d be...

Yes, ma’am. Yeah, it would. Right above you.

Don’t that beat all?

It certainly does.

Uh, Mrs. Fletcher, about my book--

Andy, I promise. Later.

The maid found him when she dumped the laundry cart.

Well, I guess he won’t be goin’ to the senate next year.

Bruises all over his neck.

Somebody must’ve choked him to death.

Get the lab guy over here.

Tell the coroner I want to know when this guy died.

Miller, double-check the hotel staff, guests,

anybody who could’ve seen this guy last night.

- Excuse me, lieutenant. - Yes, sir.

I got some lady out here, says she may know something.

Uh, Lieutenant Alfano?

That’s me. You are?

Jessica Fletcher. I’m a guest staying here at the hotel.

Ah, so what do ya got for me, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, maybe nothing. I’m not really sure.

Lieutenant, that is Axel Weingard’s body there, isn’t it?

- You know the guy? - Well, I met him last night

just briefly at the fund-raiser.

Ma’am, I thought you said you had some information.

Oh, yes, yes, of course. It was about 12:30 last night.

I was just getting ready to go to bed

when this man appeared on my balcony.

A man? What man?

His name is Dennis Stanton.

At least that’s who he says he is.

Frankly, I’m not at all sure.

He behaved in a very suspicious way.

Come on, Hatcher.

Don’t you think you’re pushing things a little?

No, not at all, Theo.

I mean, after our conversation last night...

well, you know how fast things break in this city.

Look, you told me to check out

your apartments with my business manager.

I checked.

He said better I should invest in igloos in Saudi Arabia.

But I-I can show you financial reports.

Hatcher, give me a little credit, okay?

Axel Weingard’s in for about 40% of your action.

What I hear is Weingard’s about to pull out

and stick you with a Chapter 11.

So maybe I’m having a little trouble with Weingard.

All the more reason for you to throw in with me.

For God’s sake, Theo, you hate him worse than I do.

Jessica!

How good to see you. Come in, please.

Hold my calls, please, Tammy. Oh, and if Norman Mailer calls,

tell him I’m in conference with Rupert Murdoch

and can’t be disturbed.

Right this way, Jessica.

Can I get you something? Perrier? Something stronger?

No, no, really. I’m fine.

- Mr. Wexler-- - Theo.

Theo, as you know,

I have had a very long and comfortable

working relationship with Jonathan Reed.

The old guy was really something, wasn’t he?

One of a kind.

Yes, the old guy was marvelous, Theo.

But that is just the point.

You see, he and I had a great deal in common.

We were able to communicate on many levels--

Wait a minute. Don’t say it.

Jessica, don’t say you’re dumping me.

Well...

look, I-I know you’re under

no legal obligation to come with me.

But the thing is... I’m in kind of a bind.

Well, I’m sorry. I-I didn’t know.

Well, the cash flow is down to a trickle,

and if it ever hit the street

that you were gonna sign with someone else...

Yes, I can see that.

This past year Axel Weingard has made things very difficult.

He dropped four of my writers. No good reason.

It’s just personal between him and me.

That’s the kind of guy he is.

Was. Axel Weingard is dead.

What?

He was murdered last night at the hotel.

The police discovered his body this morning.

Dead? My God.

Who knows about this?

Well, I don’t know, the police, people at the hotel.

Tammy, get my broker on the phone. Now!

Is this great or what?

I’m sorry?

When this hits the street,

the Weingard stock will go right into the dumper.

If I sell short, I’ll make a killing.

Jessica, this is a gift from heaven!

I’ll get back everything that S.O.B. has cost me

and then some.

Bernard? Theo Wexler. Listen very carefully.

Jessica.

Dennis. Well, my goodness, what a surprise.

Well, you mentioned last night that you

had a morning appointment with Mr. Wexler,

so I just took a chance.

- Are you hungry? - Uh, well, not really. I--

-Of course you are. It’s nearly lunchtime.

I want you to know that I’m not the least put out

by the fact that you told the police

about our little escapade last night.

If I were in your shoes,

I would’ve done exactly the same thing.

Well, I hope I didn’t cause you any trouble.

Trouble? Dear me, no.

I have an ironclad alibi for the time of the robbery.

- Have you ever been to Rangoon? - Well, no, but--

Excellent. You are in for such a treat.

Mmm, it smells divine.

And this is a very charming little restaurant.

But at the moment, what I really need from you

are some straight answers.

Fine. Serious matters first,

then we can enjoy ourselves. What do you want to know?

For openers, what is all this

about an alibi for the time of the robbery?

And the murder. Let us not forget poor old Axel.

Now, that police lieutenant thinks that the robbery

and Weingard’s death are tied together.

Dennis, you were in my suite at 12:30.

Yes, but as far as Lieutenant Alfano is concerned,

I was at the townhouse of City Councilman Wellington Kendall

from around 11:30 until 2:00 in the morning...

playing Gin Rummy.

But that’s a lie.

But of course it’s a lie.

But dear old Kendall jumps in whenever I need him.

Jessica, I couldn’t tell anyone where I was last night, really.

As I told you, the lady I was visiting is married.

Don’t you mean "was"?

The widow Weingard?

What a shabby opinion you must have of me.

Dennis, the Weingard suite is directly above mine.

Oh, really? Imagine that.

Well, enough of this idle chitchat.

It’s obvious that you’re less than thrilled with the kaukswe.

Oh, no, no, no, no.

It-it-it’s very-very interesting.

I have a splendid idea!

Let me cook for you this evening, at my place.

No, Dennis, I really can’t.

Uh, you see, I’m booked on the 5 o'clock plane to Boston.

Cancel it.

But I’ve already been gone too long as it is.

Look, I’ll tell you what we’ll do.

Next time I come to town,

we’ll have a date.

Now, on my word, I swear.

Good.

I’ll hold you to that.

Oh, thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.

I guess I gave you quite a scare, huh?

Well, actually, yes, Miss, uh-

Shannon McBride, special claims investigator

for Susquehanna Fire and Casualty.

We hold the paper on the Weingard necklace.

Hmm? Oh, yes, insurance. Yes.

Hmm, 2.1 mil in hard yankee bucks.

Look, I talked to Lieutenant Alfano.

He told me what you told him.

I mean, Dennis Stanton was here last night, wasn’t he?

Oh, yes, yes, he was.

Though getting anybody to believe it

is proving to be very difficult.

He claims to have an alibi.

City Councilman Wellington Kendall,

Stanton’s brother-in-law. This isn’t the first time

the councilman has vouched for him.

Forgive me, Miss McBride.

You seem to know a good deal more

about Mr. Stanton than I do.

Well, he’s a real partygoer, Mrs. Fletcher.

Wherever the action is, that’s where you’ll find Dennis.

And you’ll usually find somebody

who’s missing a nice piece of ice.

Brooch, ring, necklace. Coincidence? I don’t think so.

Can you actually prove that?

If I could prove anything, Mrs. Fletcher,

Dapper Dennis would be doing 10 to 20 in Attica. Believe me.

Look, do me a favor.

Tell Mr. Stanton that we are offering

a $100,000 reward for the return of the necklace,

no questions asked. I don’t like it.

I’d rather slap some cuffs on him,

but I’m under a lot of pressure from my chief.

I’m sorry, Miss McBride.

Even if I were inclined to pass along your message,

which I’m not, I don’t intend to see Mr. Stanton again.

In fact, I have a booking on the 5 o'clock plane to Boston.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have some packing to finish.

Let me put this another way, Mrs. Fletcher.

If you can talk Stanton into turning over the jewels,

there’s another 50,000 in it for you personally.

Goodbye, Miss McBride.

- Hello? - Mrs. Fletcher?

Bert Alfano here.

Oh, yes. Hello, Lieutenant.

Thought you’d like to know we just booked somebody

in the Weingard case.

Oh? Who?

You know a kid by the name of Andy Broom?

Works in the hotel as a busboy.

That nice boy? Oh, I don’t believe it.

Well, believe it, ma’am. And something else...

he doesn’t want a lawyer. He wants to talk to you.

- Ridiculous. - What do you mean, ridiculous?

I want to know just what evidence you have against him.

His references check out zilch.

And in Weingard’s office we find this letter.

Did you know that the kid wrote a book?

He told me that, yes.

Did he also tell you that he sent it

to the victim about a year ago?

No.

And that he accused the guy

of ripping him off? Here it is.

"Dear Mr. Weingard."

We’ll get to the good part over here.

Blah, blah, blah, blah.

"As you steal my work, so you steal my name,

"my very soul. I beg of you,

"take your fingers from my throat.

"I am neither rash or vengeful,

"but there is something in me dangerous,

which you would be wise to fear."

Fingers from my throat.

And the victim just happened to be strangled.

Now, if that isn’t a threat, then I’m Rootie Kazootie.

Andy, why did you threaten him with Shakespeare?

Well, I just wanted to sound eloquent, you know.

Everything I wrote in my own words just sounded dumb.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher, about a year ago

I wrote this really terrific novel

set on an asteroid in the year 3001.

- 3001? - Yes, ma’am.

Anyway, it’s about this tyrannical father and his four sons.

And, I mean, this is a real dirty old man.

And the oldest son is this fortune hunter.

And he and his father fall in love with the same woman.

And, I mean, these two really hate each other, right?

Well, anyway, the old man dies accidentally,

but since the oldest son had threatened to kill the father,

he’s arrested and put on trial.

Andy, excuse me.

This-this sounds very interesting, but isn’t it familiar?

Well, anyway, about three months ago,

Weingard comes out with this new book

set in the Canadian Yukon, about this logging family,

degenerate father, fortune-hunting son--

- Excuse me, Andy. - They had it all, Ms. Fletcher.

They had the hate. They had the threats.

They had the accidental death. They had the trial.

Andy, please listen--

They stole my book, scene for scene!

Andy, it isn’t your book. It’s Dostoyevsky’s book.

You were describing the plot of The Brothers Karamazov.

Well, shoot, ma’am, I know that.

But how can you accuse a man of stealing your idea

when you already stole it from somebody else?

I didn’t steal it. I adapted it.

And I thought of it first.

Okay, fine. Just tell me what it is you don’t understand.

Well, the jewels, for one thing.

Now, Marta Weingard was wearing them.

But where was she when all this was going on?

And if she was wearing them, how come the thief

was able to take off with them without her knowledge?

Okay, sit down, sit down.

Here it is, the Marta Weingard story.

It’s about 11:30, quarter to 12:00.

The party’s winding down. Not so for Mrs. Weingard,

who’s had too much champagne for her own good.

Now, she and her husband are out in the hotel lobby.

She wants to go outside, get some fresh air,

clear her head, that kind of thing.

He says, "Are you nuts?" He wants to go to bed.

They have a big fight.

He says, "Okay, if you want to go outside,

at least give me the necklace."

She gets a little bit testy, yanks it off,

throws it at him, out she goes.

He grabs the necklace, heads for the elevator.

Now it’s about 12:30.

The lady comes up to her hotel suite.

The safe is open.

No necklace, no husband.

She does a very smart thing. She calls us.

In 10 minutes, we got two squad cars at the scene.

Any more questions?

Look, Lieutenant,

if Andy Broom killed Axel Weingard,

which in my mind is total nonsense,

his motive would have been revenge, not theft.

And the other thing that you keep conveniently ignoring

is the fact that Dennis Stanton appeared mysteriously

on my balcony around the time of the theft and the murder.

You say.

And I’ll say it in court, if necessary.

Now, I’m sure that you

don’t want to be butting heads

with Dennis Stanton’s alibi.

- The councilman? - You got that right.

Yeah, but the fact is he’s lying,

and Dennis Stanton is lying.

Look, lady, it’s not much of a career,

but it’s the only one I got, and the last cop

who bumped heads against City Hall

is patrolling junkyards in Astoria.

And if it comes out that you are protecting a killer,

where do you think you will end up?

You don’t give a guy much room, do you?

Okay, what do you suggest?

Hello?

Jessica!

This is a welcome surprise.

I wanted to let you know that my plans have changed,

and I won’t be leaving for another couple of days.

Wonderful. Does that mean we’re on for dinner?

Well, if the invitation is still open.

But of course.

Yes. 8 o'clock.

Apartment 610? Right. I’ll see you then.

Bye-bye.

I’ll say this, Mrs. Fletcher. You have a lot of guts.

Thank you, Lieutenant.

But what I don’t have is information.

I’d like to see your file on the case,

everything you’ve got.

Lieutenant, are you sure

that this transmitter is strong enough?

It looks awfully small.

Ma’am, that little baby

throws a signal about a half a mile

through steel, brick and concrete.

I’ve got a dozen cops,

including me, hanging on your every word.

If you got any trouble, we’re gonna be there. Believe me.

Good. That gentleman is very charming and urbane,

but he is also a thief.

Also dangerous.

Now it’s not too late to back off.

The murder? Yes, that’s

the one thing that doesn’t fit.

Speaking of that, there are a couple of things

that I’d like to double-check with you

that are in your report.

You say that there was a red carnation petal

found on the floor near the sofa?

Right.

And that there was a minute

drop of blood on the petal?

Also correct. But the victim was wearing a white carnation,

so the petal couldn’t have come from his flower.

You know, Dennis Stanton was wearing a red carnation.

So you told me.

But the other thing that bothers me

is the description of the scratches

on the right hand of the victim.

Well, his hand was a mess.

You know, it was like somebody

was ripping into his hand or something.

Or maybe it was the clasp of the necklace.

Normally I’d decant this,

but you didn’t give me much notice.

Still, I think you’re going to like it.

Oh, it’s lovely.

Everything’s prepared, except a few finishing touches.

I believe a host should never be a slave to the kitchen.

So, why this sudden change of plan?

I can’t believe it came from an overwhelming desireto feast on my veal.

Actually, Dennis, I came here on business.

Business? That sounds depressing.

Well, I’ve had a little chat with a young woman named Shannon McBride.

And she asked me to relay a message to you.

Something about the reward?

Well, yes, but--

Shannon McBride is a persistent little terrier

with the instincts of a bloodhound.

For several years, she’s deluded herself...

that I’m some sort of modern-day Raffles,

the gentleman jewel thief.

And?

And what?

Dennis, despite what you told the police, I saw you.

Please give me a little credit for some intelligence.

Incidentally, what do you do to afford all of this?

Jessica, you fascinate me.

I can actually see the cogwheels turning

in that pretty head of yours.

"Who is this man? What is he?"

I’m afraid I’m in danger of turning up in one of your books.

Well, there is a distinct possibility.

All right. All right. Let us fantasize.

Let us suppose, for the sake of discussion,

that I did harbor a desire to be a jewel thief.

Now, how would I go about it? Well, for starters,

I'd be unlike any jewel thief you’d ever known.

I’d never steal from anyone who couldn’t afford it,

and I’d never, ever steal anything of sentimental value.

Do you want to write any of this down?

Oh, no, no. I think I can remember.

And most important of all,

I’d make damn sure that whatever I stole

was insured by Susquehanna Fire and Casualty.

Really? That sounds very personal.

Oh, it is, dear lady. It is.

I’m a widower, Jessica. I don’t suppose I told you that.

Six years ago

my wife died of

a catastrophic illness.

Through a technicality, the insurance company

refused to pay any of her bills,

leaving me with a quarter of a million dollars

in medical debts.

The company being the Susquehanna Fire and Casualty?

Yes. I decided to fight fire with fire

by relieving several of my more ostentatious society friends

of their gaudier baubles,

all insured, as you have surmised, by Susquehanna.

Really? It’s taken you a long time

to get that quarter of a million back.

I passed that milestone years ago.

But by that time, I'd become

so experienced in my newfound profession

that I opted to continue. Call it petty,

but I still get a warm feeling

knowing that once again I’ve stuck it to those barracudas.

And your brother-in-law, the City Councilman?

Wellington shares my disgust.

After all, it was his sister.

He’s been a dependable and willing ally

whenever I needed him.

And how does he feel now that

his cooperation includes murder?

Jessica, I assure you, I did not kill Axel Weingard.

In fact, I hate to admit it...

I didn’t even steal the necklace.

For your ears only, this is what happened.

I’d been in the lobby when Marta Weingard had her

celebrated blowup with her husband over the necklace.

I figured, "Well, no time like the present,"

so I went up onto the roof...

and then lowered myself down onto the Weingard balcony.

The balcony door was locked, of course,

but it took no time at all to jimmy it open.

I slipped inside the bedroom.

I was about to enter the living room

when I heard muffled voices,

a man and a-a woman.

I-I couldn’t identify them. Not clearly.

I- I peered through the crack in the door

into the living room...

where I saw Axel Weingard pacing angrily.

I could hear the woman, but I never actually saw her.

And as I said, I-I-I couldn’t identify her voice.

Suddenly Weingard shouted,

"put that gun away are you out of your mind?"

Furious, he started back towards the bedroom door.

Naturally, I hurried back out onto the balcony.

Just as Weingard entered the bedroom,

I thought I heard the woman shout something at him.

Then he turned and went back into the living room,

closing the bedroom door.

I waited.

Couldn’t hear anything.

I must’ve been out there 20 minutes

when I finally decided to have another look.

I listened at the door and heard nothing.

I decided to chance it. I opened the door.

I was about to enter when I saw the open wall safe.

I knew something was very wrong.

Just then, I heard a key in the lock.

I ducked out again,

then peered back into the living room

to see Marta Weingard enter.

She, too, noticed the open safe.

She became upset and frightened.

She hurried to the phone

and told the desk to call the police.

Well, I knew there was nothing more I could accomplish,

so I quickly let myself down to your balcony.

And you know the rest.

So, you see, Jessica,

however checkered my past may or may not be,

in this case I am completely innocent.

Just one moment, Dennis.

There’s one thing that is confusing me.

You said that you never actually entered the living room?

No.

But the police report said that a petal

from a red carnation was found on the floor.

Oh?

And are you in the habit of reading police reports?

Oh, no, no, no.

I-I mean, actually, I, uh...

Jessica, don’t tell me you’ve come here under false colors.

Um...

Forgive me. This isn’t exactly gentlemanly, I know,

but this isn’t quite ladylike, is it?

Oh, I’m sorry, Dennis. But given the circumstances--

A young man is being held for murder.

My, my. So many undistinguished plain black cars,

and in this neighborhood.

Police! Open this door!

Let us in! Open it up!

You’ll understand if I don’t buy your next book.

Open the door!

Open it up!

Open the door! Police!

The balcony.

And you know the rest.

So, you see, Jessica,

no matter how checkered my past may or may not have been,

in this case I am completely innocent.

So what am I supposed to believe?

That he’s been ripping off our company

for the last six years? That I believe.

But the rest of it about that Weingard necklace,

that-that’s pure Grade A Dennis Stanton baloney.

But why should he lie? He’s admitted to the other thefts.

They didn’t have Murder One attached to them.

Besides, he’s on the run, Mrs. Fletcher.

What does that tell you?

Look, Lieutenant, obviously Stanton’s luck ran out.

For the first time, he got caught in the act

and he panicked. And that story about

some mysterious woman who he never got a good look at

and whose voice he couldn’t recognize

is so much cock and bull.

And that’s the way it’s gonna go in my report,

so you let me know when you pick him up.

Excuse me.

You know, she’s got a point.

Yes.

I mean, Dennis would have had to work pretty hard

not to have seen who that woman was.

Still, I just can’t believe that he’s capable of murder.

Well, I got an A.P.B. out on him,

and I ordered up a tap

on his brother-in-law’s phone.

I don’t believe that after 19 years

I got this compulsion to self-destruct.

Either way, it doesn’t appear to me

that young Andy Broom was involved.

Lieutenant?

Yeah, yeah, yeah. Get the kid outta here

before I get myself into a lousy mood.

Hello? Oh, yes, lieutenant.

What?

I said it looks like the McBride woman

from the insurance company was right.

Oh?

Stanton just called

his brother-in-law, the city councilman.

Let me quote from a very brief and one-sided conversation.

Stanton: "I have to leave town,

but as soon as I dispose of the merchandise,

I’ll send you a piece of the action."

Oh, dear.

Thought you’d like to know that

before you left for Maine.

Yes, yes. Thank you, Lieutenant.

That was very thoughtful of you.

Goodbye.

You’re late. My bus leaves in five minutes.

I got stuck in traffic.

A couple of young hoods tried to rob a liquor store.

Crime runs rampant. Did you bring it?

It’s inside the newspaper.

I’m delighted that you agreed

to cooperate without any fuss, Hatcher.

This could have been messy for us both.

Now hear me carefully, Stanton.

This is it.

You get the necklace. I get your silence.

You take this any further, you try to shake me down...

I swear I’ll kill you.

Violence may be your style, Hatcher. It’s not mine.

The 8:15 bus to Harrisburg

is leaving from Gate 4 in five minutes.

All aboard, please.

That’s me. Thanks again, Hatcher.

I’d wish you good luck, but the fact is, I hope they catch you.

Look, Lieutenant, this is insane.

I never saw this necklace before.

I don’t know what Stanton told you,

but the only reason I was down in that bus station last night--

Save the tap dance, Hatcher.

We’ve got it all, the whole picture,

thanks to Mrs. Fletcher over here.

Oh, really? And you’re gonna take the word

of a jewel thief over mine?

Oh, it’s more than just his word, Mr. Hatcher.

It was the flower.

- Huh? - The red carnation.

The authorities found a blood-stained petal

from a red carnation on the floor.

That indicated that a man was in the suite that night,

not a woman.

A man who’d been wearing a red carnation.

Could’ve been Weingard’s.

No. Mr. Weingard’s carnation was white, not red.

But you were wearing a red carnation, Mr. Hatcher.

I noticed it when you were talking to Theo Wexler.

So what? A lot of people wore red carnations that night.

Yes. But when you left the hotel that evening-

around 1:00, just about the time that the police arrived,

you weren’t wearing your carnation.

What happened to your flower, Mr. Hatcher?

You lose it somewhere?

The police report showed that the victim’s hand

had been badly scratched, and I think I know why.

It was probably simple for you

to strangle Mr. Weingard to death,

but you couldn’t stop him from struggling.

He must have clutched at your carnation,

mangling it as he fought for air.

In doing so, the pin jabbed deeply into his hand.

Now, that would explain the traces of blood,

his blood, on the petal.

You must have gotten rid of the flower.

It certainly had to be unwearable.

You know what I think, Hatcher?

I think when we take a look at that tux of yours,

where the flower used to be,

we’re gonna find traces of blood by the lapel...

the victim’s blood.

What do you think?

Yes, I-I think you probably will, lieutenant.

I’d gone up there to beg him

not to pull out of our business deal.

He laughed at me.

I had a gun, but he knew I wouldn’t dare use it.

Someone was sure to hear the shot.

Then... suddenly...

I... found my hands around his throat.

I-I knew Marta would be returning any minute.

I had to get rid of the body.

There was a laundry cart right outside the door.

I put him in it. I covered him with sheets.

I had to pray nobody would find him until morning.

I took the necklace...

hoping to make it look like a robbery.

I was already halfway down the staircase

when I... noticed my flower...

mangled.

Jessica! Oh, and Miss McBride.

Well, congratulations are in order.

Your tenacity seems to have paid off.

My days of larceny are over.

Oh, yes. For 10 years, at least.

Poor girl. She’s going to be so disappointed.

Disappointed?

Thank you, Walter, for arranging things.

If you need me, I’ll be home in about half an hour.

My lawyer.

Oh, I thought he was a policeman.

Dear, no. All that’s done with.

As I understand it, in exchange for my testimony against poor old Miles,

I am to receive a suspended sentence

and a few years’ probation.

Oh, how very lucky.

Now, Jessica, there’s something

that you and I ought to discuss.

The thought of pursuing steady employment

is absolutely terrifying, and it occurred to me

that there might be some profit to be made

out of lending my name to a book,

or a series of books,

about a roguish jewel thief.

- What? - A wonderful idea, isn’t it?

I’ve already been contacted by an agent

who wants to represent me.

In fact, I think you know him, a fellow called Wexler.

Says he’s been your agent for years.