All language subtitles for MrSWr4E04.Old.Habits.Die.Hard.

Tonight, on Murder, She Wrote.

The paper says! I don't care what anybody says!

Sister Emily did not kill herself!

One of the other nuns committed murder.

But honestly, nothing like that

has ever happened here before.

Well, you think that getup entitles you

to mess up everybody's life?

Are you getting out

or are you just admiring the view?

Hold your horsepower. I'm goin'.

You know who's behind this, don't you?

My unworthy opponent, that's who.

Let's drop this thing, what do ya say? Okay?

Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee.

Blessed art thou amongst women,

and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus.

Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners,

now and at the hour of our death. Amen.

Hail Mary, full of Grace, the Lord is with thee.

Please, Mike, you have to understand.

I'm sorry, this is insane. You're throwing your life away!

It's my life!

You're crazy! They've poisoned you against me!

I go away for a week,

and I find you've come back into this place?

- Mr. Phelps, you must-- - Just stay out of this, sister.

This is all your fault.

God, all that garbage she's been putting in your head--

Oh, Mike.

Aw, Sarah, come on.

You've got your whole life ahead of you.

I love you.

I want us to get married, have kids,

all those things we talked about.

No, Mike.

You talked about.

Mr. Phelps, Sarah has made her decision.

Please don't upset her anymore.

You people!

All of you!

Well, you think that getup entitles you

to mess up everybody's life?

I'm not givin' up, Sarah.

No way is this over!

Are you getting out,

or are you just admiring the view?

Hold your horsepower. I'm goin'.

Don't patronize me, Jess.

We are growing the scrawniest tomatoes

east of the Mississippi.

Well, let's just say they're a little underdeveloped.

I've tried everything: fertilizer, prayer.

I even considered doing a rain dance,

but I was afraid the bishop might catch me at it.

Well, Claire, I hate to remind you,

but your thumb is anything but green.

Do you remember that little flower patch

that we started behind the Kappa Delta house?

Do I remember?

While you were knee-deep in marigolds,

my zinnias just quit before they even started to bud.

Thank you, sister Emily.

Must you really leave on Friday, Jess?

This is the best visit we've had in years.

I know it. I'm afraid I have to, though.

You know, I've got a half-finished book

in the typewriter and a very anxious publisher.

At least you'll be here for the dedication service.

Oh, absolutely.

I mean, it isn't every week that your chapel gets a new organ.

I just hope the thing works. Electronic.

Mother Superior, excuse me,

but sister Anne says that

she has to see you in the office right away.

Thank you, Amy.

Amy, say hello to--

- Certainly nothing I said. - No.

Oh, she's a dear child,

but she's terribly frightened and unhappy.

We get a lot of 'em like Amy here:

abused, neglected.

Usually we can draw them out, win their trust.

But Amy's been particularly difficult,

- I'm afraid. - Mm-hmm.

Well, will you excuse me? Duty calls.

Mm-hmm. I have some phone calls to make too.

Bye-bye.

But I have worked out the second half of the story.

I just have to finish writing it.

Yes, I know you've heard that before.

No. Right.

Well, it's awfully hard for me to drag myself away

from the lovely peace and quiet of this convent.

Well, I promise.

Right. Bye-bye.

Damn it, sister Paul!

Watch your language, child!

Look, all I wanna do is talk to her, that's it.

I'm not gonna cause her any harm.

You said quite enough to sister Emily two years ago.

Now I want you to leave at once.

Or what?

Time hasn't changed you very much, has it?

Mrs. Fletcher?

You are Jessica Fletcher, aren't you?

Oh, but of course you are.

I am Marion Simpson,

Mayor Simpson's wife.

I can't tell you how-- How delighted we are

to have a celebrity of your stature

visiting us here in Bergen Falls.

Well, that's very kind of you,

but I'd hardly call myself a celebrity.

Well, what does it matter, as long as other people do?

Am I right?

- Well, I suppose-- - Of course I'm right.

Why do you suppose I persuaded my husband

to speak at the dedication tomorrow?

I said to him, "Albert," I said,

"they may be just the little people,

but it's the little people who get out and vote for you."

Well, certainly the public--

Of course, they do!

And in an election year,

you can't afford to miss a single opportunity

to gather support, don't you think?

- Undoubtedly. - Oh, I knew.

I just knew we would be simpatico

the moment I saw you.

I just wish that

the Mother Superior shared our savvy.

Do you know that she actually forgot to invite the Goldsteins?

I'm on my way now to straighten this whole thing out.

Well, actually, I think she's very busy right now.

Oh, no, no. She's never too busy to see me.

Why don't you come along, Jessica?

Maybe you can talk some sense into her, hmm?

I mean, she's a dear thing, but, you know,

sometimes I just think she's not in touch with reality.

Come on. I'll lead the way. I grew up in this place.

That's why I just can't do enough for them now.

And Albert-- Albert is just so supportive.

And then in his third term of office,

Albert established the town's first free medical clinic,

which I administer myself.

Though, heaven knows, with all my other charitable duties,

I hardly have time to draw a free breath.

You know what I mean?

Of course you do, a busy writer like you.

Well, here we are.

I bet you thought we'd never get here.

You mean, this is-- this is all you have?

Yes. I'm sorry, Mr. Carter.

But as you see, our files show no record of a Linda Stone.

Yes, ma'am, I understand what you're saying,

but like I said, she could've changed her name.

See, that's why I brought along this snapshot.

It's sort of blurry.

It's hard to tell, but she's a little bitty thing,

about 5'0 ", 5'1", has blonde hair, green eyes.

No, I'm sorry.

I know 15 years ago was a little before your time,

but I was thinking,

maybe one of the older nuns might remember her.

I'd really appreciate it, sister.

Well, sister Emily has been keeping informal files

of her own for years on her girls.

Sister Emily, now, that's someone I'd like to talk with.

Mother Superior, far be it for me to interrupt,

but I'm due at a ladies auxiliary meeting.

And we simply must discuss those invitations

to the dedication

before I dare face Mrs. Goldstein.

Claire, perhaps I can help.

We passed sister Emily's room on the way here.

I'm sure that I could show this gentleman the way

without getting too lost.

Oh, Jess, would you?

I would be much obliged, miss--

Fletcher.

Miss Fletcher, my name's Ray Carter.

Oh.

Now, Mrs. Simpson,

what is all of this about Mrs. Goldstein?

Mrs. Simpson?

If I'm not mistaken,

sister Emily's room should be right down here.

I only hope

sister Emily's half as accommodating

as you and the Mother Superior.

I have to tell you, miss Fletcher,

a man in my business

comes to appreciate something like this.

Oh? And what business is that, Mr. Carter?

Private investigations, miss Fletcher.

Least ways I will be, until I wrap up this case,

if I manage to wrap it up.

I'm thinkin' about takin' down my shingle,

packin' up an old fishin' pole

and retirin' down to a place I got in Florida

where the catfish, they tell me,

are bitin' the whole year round.

Well, it must be a pretty good case

if it can afford you all of that.

Well, I wouldn't wanna bore you with the details.

It involves an inheritance, that sort of thing, you know.

Yeah, this little lady could be my ticket south.

- She's kinda pretty, isn't she? - Oh, yes.

Figure I'll let sister Emily mull over that picture

for a couple days.

And, boy, I hope it rings a bell.

Well, speaking of bells. Now, let me see.

Yes. There's sister Emily right there.

Ah. Well, you've been mighty nice, miss Fletcher.

If you're ever in the Sunshine State,

you give me a holler.

Well, be sure to give my regards

to the catfish, Mr. Carter.

Okay.

Uh, excuse me, sister Emily?

Hi. My name's Ray Carter.

I, uh, hope you'll pardon this intrusion,

but the Mother Superior thought you might be able to supply me

with some information on the girl in this picture.

It was taken just before she ran away from home

about 15 years ago.

And I got a lead a little while ago

that she might have come down this part of the country

and stayed with you folks in the convent for a while.

Fifteen years is a long time, Mr. Carter.

It surely is, and I wouldn't be troubling you now

if it weren't important.

You see, this girl's daddy's dying.

He's a very wealthy man,

a tremendously important person,

but his one wish is that

he makes up with his little girl.

See, it's my understanding

he actually kicked her out of the house 15 years ago.

I'll check my records and let you know.

Sister, would you have a few minutes now?

I'm sure the Mother Superior knows how to find you.

Very nice to have met you, Mr. Carter.

You'll be hearing from me.

You know, the last time I saw Nellie,

she was trying to organize a rafting excursion

down the Snake River in Idaho.

Oh, dear. Nellie.

She couldn't open a can of peas without cutting a finger.

I hope she survived.

Oh, yes, she even sent me photos

from her hospital bed.

Nothing serious.

Just a broken ankle.

You treat it like a minor inconvenience.

Excuse me, Sarah. I think you dropped this.

Oh, yes. Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, isn't that a beautiful crucifix.

That's a celtic cross, isn't it?

You must come from an Irish family.

Yes, ma'am.

I mean, I suppose so.

I don't really remember them very well.

Will that be all, Mother Superior?

Yes, dear. Thank you, Sarah.

Sarah seemed a little distracted.

I hope I didn't make her feel uncomfortable.

You?

The girl who managed to charm Dean Franklin

out of a three-day suspension?

Well, you could have too,

if you had only stopped climbing that flagpole

when he told you to.

What, and lose the bet? No.

Yes, can I help you?

Oh, yes, hello. I'm Dr. Marshall.

I'm here to see sister Emily.

I see, if you'll wait here a moment,

I'll find someone to let you in.

Oh, sister Paul, I'm glad you're here.

There's a Dr. Marshall at the door for sister Emily.

Dr. Marshall?

Sister Emily has always used Dr. Hart.

Oh, well, I'll straighten it out, Mrs. Fletcher.

That takes care of the arrangements

for the service.

Now, as far as the refreshments are concerned--

Don't worry about a thing.

Sister Margaret-Marie has baked at least six dozen cupcakes.

Oh, and sister Mary-Margaret has made enough punch

to float an ark.

Not to mention all the cookies

sister Margaret-Mary and Sarah are gonna be bakin' tonight.

So, you see?

We've got it all taken care of, right?

- Right? - Honestly, sisters.

I don't know what I would do without you.

Do you, Jess?

Oh, no, indeed.

It sounds like a veritable feast.

Sister Mary-Margaret?

Margaret-Marie.

Oh, dear. I'm so sorry.

You'd be surprised how many people get us confused.

Oh, absolutely.

It's amazing!

It's hard to fathom, isn't it, Mrs. Fletcher?

Linda? That's impossible!

Are you absolutely certain that the man said Linda Crane?

She's using the name of Stone now,

but I-- I recognized the description.

And I was right there

when Jessica Fletcher took him to see sister Emily.

And I am sure that she'll identify her picture.

My God.

I thought that was behind us 15 years ago.

You think I didn't?

You know who's behind this, don't you?

My unworthy opponent, that's who.

But how would he know?

Well, who knows?

Still, I do know this.

He does not have anything solid on me yet,

or my spies would have told me.

Still, if he thinks I am going to stand around here

and watch my entire career go down the drain,

then he has a hell of a surprise comin'.

Albert, wait! Where are you going?

What are you going to do?

What is it? What's happened?

I don't care what the paper says!

I don't care what anybody says!

Sister Emily did not kill herself!

Claire, please.

- I admit it's hard to believe. - Hard?

Jessica, you met her. You saw what she was like.

Yes, she was ill,

but she was also vital and concerned.

But above that, she was devout.

Now how on earth could a woman like that

deliberately take her own life?

I doubt we'll ever know.

Oh, Bishop Shea.

This is a terrible thing.

I know how close you were.

Yes. Thank you.

Oh, this is a dear friend of mine

who's been visiting these past few days.

Jessica Fletcher.

Jessica, Bishop Patrick Shea.

Pleasure to meet you.

I wish it were under happier circumstances.

We were just saying how difficult this is

to believe.

Oh, my own reaction, of course.

Suicide?

The notion was ridiculous.

But then the sheriff showed me his preliminary report.

I-- I'm afraid

that the large amount of medication in her system

makes it clear that the overdose was no accident.

And then, with this note that they found

written in her own hand.

The sheriff was kind enough to give me a copy.

Well, well,

it doesn't take a mathematician to add up the score.

Excuse me, Bishop.

Would you mind if I had a look at the note?

Sadly enough, it's a passage from the Bible.

Bishop, forgive me.

If it were written in stone

and hand-delivered by Moses himself,

it still wouldn't convince me

that sister Emily took her own life.

Mother Superior, you yourself told the police

that the convent was locked up tight

from 6:00 until they arrived,

that no one came in or out all night.

No one did.

Then what are you saying?

That one of the other nuns killed her?

No, that's the only other alternative,

unless, of course, you're trying to pin it on Mrs. Fletcher here.

Me?

Oh, you don't mean that.

No, of course I don't.

I'm merely trying to point out to you

how ridiculous this line of thinking can become.

Well, ridiculous or not,

it's obvious we'll have to postpone today's dedication.

Mother Superior, one moment.

The parish has been rocked to the core by all of this

with tremors reaching up to the Cardinal himself,

who agrees that the sooner we put this behind us,

the better it'll be for everyone.

- Surely you can't mean-- - Case closed.

Requiscat in pace.

You look as if you could use this.

Did somebody lace it with sherry, I hope?

I'm afraid not.

Mmm, too bad.

If the bishop expects me to swallow that suicide story,

it's going to have to be something

a lot stronger than this to wash it down.

Claire, are you absolutely positive

that no one came in or out of the convent last night

after you locked up?

Well, sister Paul would have had to unlock the door herself.

As far as the possibility of a break-in,

the police checked all the locks and the windows themselves

and found nothing.

Why, Jess?

Well, it's probably nothing.

But I couldn't help but notice that young man

that Sarah was staring at during the service.

There he is.

Mike Phelps?

Mother Superior. Excuse me.

The Sweeneys are leaving.

Already?

You know you're in trouble

when the Sweeneys run out before the food does.

Sisters, I realize that this is a very difficult time,

but I do think that you and Sarah have done

a wonderful job with everything.

Sarah?

You did mention that she had been baking cookies

with you last night.

Oh! Well, yes.

But she asked to be excused at 8:30

for an hour of solitary prayer.

Well, that's odd.

She wasn't in her room when I looked in at about 9:30.

And I dusted in the chapel till nearly 10:00,

and I didn't see her.

She wasn't in her room at 11:00.

I checked before meditation hour.

- Well, then where-- - Do you suppose she's ill?

She did leave the service early.

And I haven't seen her since.

Thank you for mentioning this, Mrs. Fletcher.

- Oh, yes, indeed. - Very perceptive.

We'll have to see if she's all right.

You will excuse us?

Yoo-hoo, Jessica!

Oh, I don't believe you've had a chance

to meet my husband yet.

Albert, this is Jessica. I've told him all about you.

- How do you do? - How do you do, miss Fletcher?

Isn't it awful about sister Emily?

Of course, the less said, the better.

But honestly, nothing like that has ever happened here before

in the whole history of the convent.

Isn't that right, Albert? As far back as the civil war.

- The civil war? - Yes, ma'am.

This old place used to be a link with the underground railroad.

Hidin' runaway slaves, helpin' 'em get up north.

And now, to think that a nun actually committed suicide here.

Well, to be honest,

there are some of us who aren't convinced about that.

What do you mean?

The paper said it couldn't possibly have been an accident.

Come on now, miss Fletcher.

Don't tell me you're suggesting that sister Emily was--

I'm only suggesting, Mr. Simpson,

that we really don't have all the facts yet.

Oh, you can't be talking murder.

Oh, good heavens,

who in the world would want to kill sister Emily?

Unless--

Unless?

Oh, this is terrible of me, but that young girl--

Marion, come on. What is it you're babblin' about now?

Well, she was here yesterday. I saw her, Albert.

Nancy Bates.

You remember Nancy Bates? But of course you do.

Isn't she the Ward

that was sent off to prison a couple years back?

Yes, largely due to sister Emily's testimony.

In fact, that girl swore

to get her revenge when she got out.

Marion, come on now.

Let's not go jumpin' to conclusions.

Say, look it there.

- Isn't that Professor Dontzig? - Oh, yes, it is!

And we haven't gotten his campaign contribution yet.

Yoo-hoo, professor. Hello.

Excuse us, won't you?

Miss Fletcher.

Amy! What are you doing here?

Nothing.

I-I was just-- I was studying,

and I heard you coming.

And we're not really supposed to be in here,

I mean, when there's no class.

Would you like my handkerchief?

Why?

I'm not crying.

Sister Emily said that we were friends,

that I was like a daughter to her.

I'm sure she meant that.

Well, then why did she do it?

Why did she kill herself?

That's a sin, a mortal sin!

No one really knows what happened or why.

Sister Emily used to say

that the truth was in the Holy Gospel.

And if you ever had a problem or needed an answer,

all you had to do was look.

She used to write out verses for me,

and I'd look them up.

Amy, wait.

Do you have those verses?

Well, sure, here in my book.

May I see them?

Okay.

Thanks.

I have to admit, these do appear

to bear a certain similarity to the note,

but I don't think that they have anything to do with--

Similarity?

But sister Emily's so-called suicide note

was a teaching aid,

something she probably wrote out for Amy.

- Even so-- - There may be more in her room.

No. Even so, that overdose

could hardly have been accidental, note or no note.

May I help you?

I'm sure you have a reasonable explanation

for your presence here, Mr.-- Mr.--

It's Dr. Marshall, isn't it?

That's the name you gave yesterday

when you came to visit sister Emily.

I stopped by to give her a refill on a prescription

she'd called me about.

Oh? I must have misunderstood.

I thought that I was told

that Dr. Hart was her regular physician.

Well, yes, he is.

I'm just covering for him a couple of days

while he's away at his brother's funeral.

That still doesn't explain what you're doing here.

Perhaps you'd better explain that to the sheriff.

Oh, no, no, please. I don't think there's any sense

in going to the police about this,

unless we absolutely have to.

Look, according to the police report,

sister Emily died of a massive overdose of metolital,

the same medication I left with her yesterday.

I know. As last physician of record, I checked.

I still don't see what you're doing here.

What I failed to check was

Dr. Hart's medical records on the strength of the pills.

You see, I simply called in the prescription

sister Emily gave me over the phone.

You mean, it's possible

that you may have prescribed the wrong dosage?

I just thought if I could find the bottle

that sister Emily was reading from,

I could confirm the prescription myself.

- Or cover up your mistake? - No.

Now, look, even if I had upped the dosage,

taking one of those pills or even three or four

would not have killed her.

But would an autopsy show the approximate dosage?

Perhaps it would, but no autopsy's been planned.

That's ridiculous.

Well, it hardly seemed necessary, Mrs. Fletcher,

given the circumstances.

Forgive me, Bishop,

but the circumstances have changed.

You're absolutely right, Jessica.

It's the same as all the rest.

This isn't a suicide note, and you know it.

There is room for doubt.

Bishop Shea, sister Emily was a devout Catholic.

She deserves burial in consecrated ground!

There's no reason to raise your voice.

Sorry.

Well, then, if we eliminate suicide and accidental death,

that leaves us with only one viable possibility:

that someone here in the convent,

one of the other nuns, committed murder.

But, bishop Shea, there are other possibilities.

There's this young woman, Nancy Bates.

Mrs. Fletcher, with all due respect

to that writer's imagination of yours,

you are forgetting one fact.

The convent was locked

from dinner until the police arrived,

which was after sister Emily died.

Now, how could Mike Phelps,

Nancy Bates, or anybody else for that matter,

have broken in without leaving a trace?

I admit, I can't answer that...

No, I didn't think you could.

Yet.

Sarah?

Oh! Mrs. Fletcher, you startled me.

Well, I suppose we're all a bit on edge.

We missed you at the reception.

I needed to be by myself for a while.

As sister Anne says, sort of pray things through.

Yes, I understand.

Sister Margaret-Mary told me

that you felt the same way last night,

and that you had asked to be excused

from baking the cookies.

Prayer can be very comforting.

Sarah, I think-- well, I think it's very important

that we all try to be as honest with each other as possible.

What do you mean?

I mean that you weren't in your room,

and you weren't in the chapel.

And to be honest, no one knows where you were.

Unless you were able to leave here unobserved

to meet Mr. Phelps?

No!

Is that what that note was about,

the note that you dropped when you were serving us tea?

Did he want to meet you?

Sarah, I know you're under a terrible strain.

Then why don't you leave me alone?

Why doesn't everybody just leave me alone?

Geez, I'm sorry. Are you all right?

Oh, yes, yes.

Oh, it's you.

Mr. Phelps, I was hoping to run into you,

- but not quite so literally. - Why?

Did you and Mother Superior run out of things to whisper about?

Look, I can understand

your feeling offended, Mr. Phelps.

I mean, our manners were--

Well, they were quite deplorable.

I just hope you'll accept my apology.

Yeah.

Well, forget it.

I'm used to being talked about out there anyway.

How else do you think they got to Sarah?

"Got to Sarah?"

Yeah, brainwashed her into joining the convent.

I mean, we were in love.

We'd talked about headin' off to Europe,

seein' the world,

getting married.

And then last night, she said--

Last night?

Mike, please, what happened last night?

Last night was just like any other night.

Excuse me. I gotta get back to work.

Jessica, sorry to interrupt.

Oh, no, no, no, no. My eyes can do with a break.

Is something wrong?

On the contrary, Mrs. Fletcher.

You'll be relieved to know

that things have finally been put to rights.

We have just received the official church ruling

on sister Emily's death.

They've termed it

"temporary insanity leading to inadvertent demise."

That's simply another way of saying "suicide."

Mrs. Fletcher, the authorities and the church,

which includes both myself and the Mother Superior,

are satisfied the case is closed.

Good night.

An underground crypt.

Don't scream. I'm not gonna hurt you.

I'm just gonna leave.

And I want you to stay put till I'm gone.

Do you understand?

Nancy?

It is Nancy Bates, isn't it?

All right, how did you know who I was?

I saw you at the door

arguing with sister Paul about sister Emily.

Yeah. Well, then I guess

that makes me suspect number one,

doesn't it?

Oh, come on. I know what's goin' on.

I heard what they're sayin'.

They're sayin' somebody killed sister Emily.

Now you catch me here like this.

It just doesn't look very good for me, does it?

- And did you kill her? - No!

Look, I admit that I hated her for sending me to prison.

But I got a lot of help there. Probably saved my life.

I tried writing her to tell her that.

But because of all the hate mail I'd sent in the past,

I just kept getting the letters back unopened.

So I figured the minute I'm sprung,

I'll come straight here to see her.

Only I wind up getting the door slammed in my face.

That's when I knew if I wanted to see her again,

I'd have to use the tunnel.

Yes. Yes.

I knew that there had to be another way into the convent.

But what puzzled me was that none of the other sisters

seem to know anything about it.

Easy. It was sealed right after the civil war.

Only a couple of Wards found out about it in the '60s

and they had it reopened without the sisters ever finding out.

It's kind of been our little secret since.

You know, a kind of matter of honor among the Wards.

Unfortunately, I'm afraid it's become a matter of murder.

Hey, look.

I admit that I was here

and I saw sister Emily last night.

I got here about 10:00.

I was hoping I'd have a chance to see her alone, and I did.

We talked for almost half an hour.

Then I even gave her a devotional book

that I'd inscribed to her, but then I left.

So that's why you came back here tonight,

to retrieve the book?

Yes, I was afraid

that if anybody noticed the date on it,

it would look real bad for me.

I didn't kill her!

I believe you, Nancy.

You could have killed me, and you didn't.

And that's saying something.

Nancy, is there anything else

you can remember about last night?

Anything?

Oh, there was one thing.

I mean, I didn't really think too much of it at the time,

but when I was leaving,

I thought I heard, like, a sound from over here.

And I looked.

I thought it was a shadow,

you know, maybe like someone hiding.

Is that all you saw, a shadow?

Ah, I'm afraid I'm not even sure about that.

Well, it could have been Sarah,

or someone else.

I must be overlooking something.

I'm afraid there's not much here to overlook.

We lead a pretty austere life here.

You know,

sister Emily had this same old chipped water pitcher

ever since I knew her.

Claire, except for Dr. Marshall,

has anyone else been in sister Emily's room

since she died?

I ordered everything left untouched

until I could see to things myself.

Well, that's very odd.

What is?

Sister Emily's other habit.

I know she had it cleaned

to wear to the dedication service,

but it's not here.

You don't suppose something else

could be missing, do you?

Missing.

Jessica, what are you looking for?

That photo of Linda Stone.

Mr. Carter said that he was gonna leave it here

for her to study.

It's gone.

Oh, are you leaving so soon, Mr. Carter?

Hey, miss Fletcher.

How ya doin'?

Never expected to see you again.

I take it that you have resolved

the Linda Stone case.

Well, fact is, it kind of resolved itself,

you might say.

My client called me up last night and said,

"Hey, Carter,

let's drop this thing, what do ya say? Okay?"

I said, "Okay."

I see. Then the inheritance came through.

Yeah, well, I kind of figured you didn't buy into that story.

Truth is, the only money involved in this case

was my client's.

She sure doesn't want her only son

wasting it on some gold digger, you see.

You mean, Linda Stone?

Yeah, Linda Stone, last night, eloped with another guy,

which, needless to say, made my client elated,

left me unemployed.

And the catfish in Florida,

I'm afraid, they got themselves a reprieve.

What made your client suspect Linda Stone's motives

in the first place?

Oh, I don't know. You got me there.

Unless-- unless it could be the kid.

- Oh, a child is involved? - Oh, yeah.

Stone has a 15-year-old boy from a previous marriage,

supposedly to a soldier who was killed in Vietnam.

The trouble with that, miss Fletcher,

is that I can't find any evidence

that this guy really existed, you see.

All the roads lead right back here

to this convent.

I see, so you're saying that Linda Stone

came to the convent 15 years ago,

pregnant and unwed?

She has the baby,

and she makes up a story about a dead husband.

Exactly. That's--

At least that's the way it reads to me.

Well, what the heck? That's water under the bridge.

I gotta catch a train.

And that catfish pond in Florida I'm gonna get some day.

You wanna come down, you give me a holler.

Thanks. I've always had a weakness for catfish.

Mrs. Fletcher, all you've given me is theory.

You can't prove a thing.

But Jessica has a way to get the proof, Bishop,

although it does involve some risk.

Risk? No. Absolutely not.

I refuse to put any of my nuns in danger.

Believe me, bishop,

all Claire has to do is to set the trap.

If I'm right, I'm sure that the killer will take the bait,

and then we'll have all the proof that we need.

Mr. Mayor,

all I'm asking is that you use your influence

to have the police reopen the case.

Mother Claire, whatever your theory is,

don't you think it would be wise to let it stay like that?

I mean, a theory?

And no one likes the smell of a scandal,

least of all the Church.

Excuse me.

Yes, sister Anne?

I'm sorry, Mother,

but you have a call from that private investigator,

Mr. Carter.

Thank you, sister.

I'm sorry. It won't take long.

Mr. Carter?

Forgive my delay in getting back to you.

I think you'll be glad to know

that we have found some of her files

tucked away in the archives

dating back through the time

you believe Linda Stone was here.

Though, unfortunately,

I haven't had time to look through them.

But Mrs. Fletcher has offered to go through them

later on tonight to try and find what you need.

So shall we say around noon tomorrow?

Mrs. Simpson, put it down.

You knew it was me.

You knew I was coming.

- Yes. - But how?

No one saw me the other night.

No.

It was a lot of little things,

things that added up only one way.

There was your tunnel, your way in.

Only the Wards knew about it.

And I remembered, you told me you'd grown up in this place.

And then mother Claire and I discovered

something was missing from sister Emily's room.

The photograph.

God.

Linda's picture.

I spoke to Ray Carter. He told me all about her.

An unwed mother, an unknown father.

Your husband.

You can't prove that!

You were in the office

when Mr. Carter produced that photo and described Linda.

- That doesn't mean-- - There's more, I'm afraid.

The water pitcher was still full.

If sister Emily had actually swallowed all those pills,

it would have been practically empty.

That means the overdose that killed her

had to have been injected.

You think you've got it all figured out,

but you didn't know

what it was like coming from nothing,

being shoved from one foster home to another

till you finally wind up here in this crummy convent.

But marrying Albert Simpson changed all that.

It made me... someone.

And I wasn't about to let any stupid mistake

that he made 15 years ago take all that away.

So you killed the only person

who might have been able to expose your husband's secret.

I had to. Albert never would've done it!

All he did was drive around all night

trying to think things through.

I didn't need to think!

I knew exactly what to do.

I hadn't counted on her having company

during meditation hour.

But once I knew that she was alone...

it all seemed so easy.

Everyone knew sister Emily's been taking metolital for years.

All I had to do was--

I emptied her pills

into my-- my pocket.

I even remembered to bring along an old piece of scripture

that she'd copied for me years ago

to leave as a-- as a note.

But by then, it was nearly 11:00,

so, I--

I disguised myself in this habit.

And then I took the photograph, and I left.

It was nearly perfect...

until you started to interfere.

You shouldn't have done that, Mrs. Fletcher.

That's enough, Mrs. Simpson.

Jessica. Jessica.

It was such a lovely service.

Oh, sister Emily would have been pleased.

And it was all thanks to you.

Oh, no.

Oh, yes, it's true.

Though how you knew to look for that secret tunnel

is still beyond me.

Well, you might say that I followed the way of the cross.

Sarah's Celtic crucifix, that is.

You see, she was wearing it when she served us tea.

But then, when she discovered the body,

the crucifix was gone.

Well, then when it turned up the next day on Mike Phelps,

I knew there had to be another way into the convent.

I'll never forget what you've done for us, Jess.

Thank you.

Mrs. Fletcher.

I understand that you're leaving us today.

Reluctantly.

I, uh--

I realize that we have had our differences,

but I want to thank you

for having the courage to rush in

where even--

Even bishops sometimes fear to tread.

Bishop Shea, we couldn't have done it without your blessing.

Well, yes, that's true, isn't it?

Oh, there's one more thing that you can do for me before you go.

Oh, what's that?

Try to impress on your dear old friend here

the obligation of obedience.

She is a troublemaker, you know.

Bishop, I'm afraid that is your problem,

and a delightful one

you're going to have to deal with

for a long, long time.