All language subtitles for MrSWr4E13.Harbinger.of.Death.

We are a research institute, not a weapons factory.

Times change. We have to change with them.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Dr. Palmer is on the verge of finding a comet.

I didn't know one was missing.

What's happened?

It was a gunshot right in the ticker.

Don't get in my way, Mrs. Fletcher.

You're way out of your weight class.

Carrie wasn't capable of loving Leonard the way I did.

- She did not kill that man. - I'm sorry.

A murder has been committed.

And you two are both lying to the police,

and I would like to know why.

Leonard.

Oh, Fay.

If you finally find this comet--

When, not if.

They'll probably name it for you, posthumously.

"Here lies Leonard Palmer, asleep at last."

There's plenty of time for that once I have it spotted.

You shouldn't worry about me, Fay.

Can't stop now.

I'm conditioned.

I don't suppose Carrie's called.

No.

She's probably busy with her aunt Edna.

With Edna, illness is a hobby.

Thor, I can't tell you how pleased I am

that you can attend the reception.

Russell, there is an aroma of filthy lucre in the air,

and it seems to be drifting in from Washington.

Yes.

Do you have any problem with that?

I'm a pragmatist, my friend,

unlike my colleague Leonard Palmer

who scans the night skies

trying to discover the undiscoverable.

If the government is interested in financing my lifestyle,

I'll gladly furnish the government

with anything it wishes.

I presume my involvement would cement

this proposed defense contract.

Naturally.

Oh, Mr. Armstrong, I'm sorry.

That's quite all right, Fay.

Do you know Dr. Lundquist?

Oh, yes.

I mean, no, not personally.

I've enjoyed your television specials immensely, doctor.

You are too kind.

It isn't easy reducing the complexities of the universe

to a pabulum the public can digest.

Fay, if you have a moment,

could you join us in my office?

- Of course. - Come along.

Now, Fay is responsible

for all our data systems network.

The computers--

Well, the computers love her.

Ah, yes.

Mathematics harnessed for space.

The tiniest microchip competes with the mightiest battleship

when defense contracts are let.

Oh, I'm afraid contracts are Russell's department.

I've been spending most of my time

on Dr. Palmer's comet calculations.

Leonard is a brilliant scientist, my dear--

Perhaps born a century or two too late.

He's chasing a myth.

A mysterious comet, last seen perhaps by a starving colonist.

And now scheduled to return when?

- Tonight? - Possibly.

Before or after supper?

Russell.

Russell, if you want to grovel

for a government contract, that's fine.

But don't ask me to join at cocktail chit-chat

with those warmongers from Washington.

Hello, Leonard, so nice to see you again.

What are you doing here, Lundquist?

I suggest you ask Mr. Armstrong.

Ah, yes, Dr. Lundquist is joining us as a...

As a consultant.

We have several projects that need his input.

Don't you mean a letterhead that needs his name?

For Lord's sake, Russell,

we are a research institute, not a weapons factory.

Our work is scientific...

and peaceful.

Yes.

Well, times change.

We have to change with them.

Jessica!

Leonard!

Jessica, I'm so sorry I didn't meet your train.

When I got your message

that you'd phoned from the station, I--

Don't give it another thought.

I know how busy you must be.

You see, I wasn't expecting you till next week.

Well, when I got your letter last month

inviting me to come and help you and Carrie

celebrate your anniversary,

well, I more or less assumed--

But our anniversary is next week, on the 17th.

Leonard, it's the 7th.

I mean, I was there at your wedding three years ago.

I'm sorry, but it is the 7th.

- It's tomorrow. - Good Lord.

I was going to phone the house,

and then I remembered that you wanted to surprise Carrie.

Jessica, I have bollixed everything.

Not only did I not tell her you were coming,

but I seem to have forgotten the date of my own anniversary.

To make matters worse, she's not here.

No.

No, your favorite niece has gone to Ithaca

to help her aunt Edna.

- Edna? - Yes.

Her bursitis is acting up again.

Oh.

Carrie drove up three days ago.

I should be hearing from her any time.

From your letter, I gathered your comet

is due to make its appearance any moment.

- You must be very excited. - Oh, yes.

Yes, I am very excited.

Leonard, is anything the matter...

With Carrie, I mean?

Oh, no. No, of course not.

Well, I--I don't see her as much as I should--

The comet and all.

I spend a great deal of time at the institute.

Jessica, when we first got married,

I--I sensed a certain...

I don't know, hostility,

because of the difference in our ages.

Well, not from me, you didn't.

Oh, no.

No, you were great.

I worry too much.

Let's get you settled in,

and then I'm gonna show you where astronomy history

is about to be made.

- Good morning, Max. - Hey.

Max, say hello to my aunt, Jessica Fletcher.

I've been waiting years

to pull that one.

It makes me feel very young.

Well, I won't go into what it does for me.

Hello, Max.

Try this on for size, ma'am.

- Security. - Oh.

We're expecting a lot of VIPs

in for the reception tonight.

Oh, you didn't say anything about a reception.

Yes, probably because it's petty, moronic,

and not worth mentioning.

Oh.

Come on, let's see some real science at work.

Well, this is it, Jessica, our window to the universe.

Oh, my, a computer.

Well, the solitary astronomer has gone high-tech.

State of the art: saves me hours of calculations.

I feed the keyboard,

the keyboard instructs the telescope.

You know, it's almost frightening.

No, Jessica, when you look through that eyepiece--

That's frightening.

And very humbling, as well.

Leonard, I--

I'm sorry.

I didn't realize you had a visitor.

Oh, my, you must be Mrs. Fletcher.

Yes, I am.

Fay Hewitt, Dr. Palmer's assistant.

And we almost met three years ago.

- Almost? - The wedding.

I got sick, missed the whole thing.

I'm afraid you missed quite an extravaganza.

So I've been told, countless times.

Leonard, I think we need to recompute this.

Oh, yes.

Yes, absolutely, soon as possible.

I'll handle it.

Oh, is there any word from Carrie?

Not yet.

If you're worried, I can try and reach her.

Oh, no. No, she's fine, I'm sure.

She's got her hands full with Aunt Edna.

I'm telling you, general, the Gamma Three program

can put us five years ahead of the Soviets.

Uh, Dr. Lundquist has examined it very thoroughly.

It's a masterpiece of scientific engineering.

The staff of the institute

is to be congratulated for farsightedness.

A shocking misuse of time and resources.

Leonard, if you ever get offered a post

in the diplomatic service, decline it.

Leonard, the guy in the corner,

NASA lobbyist.

I don't care if he's the tooth fairy, Russell.

Also an astronomy nut, and he wants to meet you.

Now go make him happy, Leonard.

Tell him... tell him about the comet.

The comet?

Jessica, will you excuse me?

I'll be fine.

I'm sorry, you are...

Jessica Fletcher. I'm Leonard's--relative.

Nice to meet you.

Hello.

May I have a mineral water with a twist of lemon, please?

Yes, ma'am.

Drake, be a dear and get me a drink, will you,

while I see if there's anybody here worth talking to?

Don't tell me, the Defense Department?

Am I right?

More down to earth, I'm afraid.

Jessica Fletcher, I'm a writer.

Drake Eaton.

I'm Madeline DeHaven's administrative assistant.

I could have sworn I asked for a drink.

Gin and tonic and a martini, dry.

Madeline, please say hello to Jessica Fletcher.

She's a reporter.

Washington Post? New York Times?

Oh, nothing so influential.

I only write mysteries.

What do you do?

I make political waves.

Actually, Madeline is director of defense spending review

with the General Accounting Office in Washington.

Oh, yes, of course, you're Madeline DeHaven.

Yes, I saw you interviewed on television last week.

And so, it seems, did Russell Armstrong.

Nice to meet you.

The Gamma Three contract connection, Mrs. Fletcher.

Some people actually think Madeline has some control

over the ultimate contract award.

You know something, they're right.

- Hello, again. - Hello.

Scotch. Make that a double.

How are you enjoying the carnival so far?

Well, I certainly sniff the presence of power.

The word is stench, Mrs. Fletcher.

And this isn't even the big leagues.

You know, Leonard looks so lonely.

I just wish that Carrie could have been here with him.

Yes.

Mrs. Fletcher, I know you're Carrie's aunt,

and I do make it a point

to stay out of Leonard's personal life, but...

well, I am a little surprised that Carrie isn't with him

when Leonard needs her so much.

I suppose young people don't think of things like that.

A fascinating woman, Madeline DeHaven.

Just what is it that you do for her?

I make her feel important.

And what does she do for you, Mr. Eaton?

Well, because of Madeline,

I'm in line to head up any one of three new departments

monitoring defense spending.

Ah, a truly symbiotic relationship.

Is Russell aware of this?

Oh, I think he will be very soon.

Now look, I asked you to accommodate our guests.

Now I am telling you to accommodate--

Like hell I will!

Let me tell you, Russell,

the comet may or may not appear in tonight's scan,

but in any case, you're putting on

no publicity party in my observatory, period!

Leonard!

Jessica, Jessica, I've just made

a dreadful fool of myself, and I'm leaving.

Please stay if you'd like.

Well, what in the world for?

Let's go find us a comet.

Tonight's the night!

Oh, I see there are three of us

who couldn't wait to get away from that dismal affair.

Amen to that.

Oh.

This is gonna take some time to load into the computer.

Fay, would you do me a favor?

I made Russell very angry this evening.

Perhaps angry enough to--

Would you go pour some oil on the troubled waters?

You're so much better at that than I am.

That's my job.

Thanks.

See you in the morning.

Ohh.

Oops, let me get that for you.

- Ooh, ooh. - Oh, brother.

Now, Jessica, this may seem a bit confusing at first,

but we enter the program.

Now that's interfaced with the telescope drive.

Hmm.

Then we factor out the time-coded galactic shift.

Oh, excuse me, Leonard.

You know, I'm about as much use to you here

as a parasol in a hurricane.

Why don't I call it a day

and let you get on with your work?

Well, perhaps you're right, Jessica.

You sure you don't mind?

Oh, of course not.

Now, be sure to call me if you find that comet.

Otherwise, I'll see you in the morning?

- Good night. - Good night.

- Yes? - Aunt Jessica?

Carrie!

What's happened?

I called Aunt Edna two hours ago

and she said that you were out doing errands.

Yeah--Yeah, that's right.

Jessica, I'm sorry I wasn't there to meet you.

But Aunt Edna needed me.

And how is Edna?

It's her bursitis again.

The pain comes and goes.

I'm doing what I can.

Carrie, I stopped by Aunt Edna's yesterday

on my way here.

She was going bowling.

Oh...

When I called her earlier, she tried to cover for you,

but she isn't a very good liar.

Jessica, I'm sorry. I really am.

But I had to get away for a while.

Carrie, I don't want to interfere,

but Leonard is very worried about you.

Is there anything that I can tell him?

Tell him I do love him.

It's outrageous.

Leonard knows better than this.

Last night the guard saw him come

bursting out of the observatory

without even stopping to sign out.

And what's his telescope doing

cranked all the way down this way?

That's my place.

And there's a body lying on the floor.

Now, let's get this straight, huh?

Now, you own this house,

but you didn't stay here last night.

Is that right, Mr. Armstrong?

That's right, I haven't been here in weeks, lieutenant.

It's sergeant, and it's Kettler.

Detective Sergeant Kettler.

What do you do, rent it out or what?

No, I'm-I'm letting a friend stay here.

Is this the guy you lent it to?

Name in the wallet is Drake Eaton.

Lived in Washington.

No, he--

He's not the person I thought was staying here.

Must be the victim's scarf. It's got blood on it.

All right, bag it. Send it to the lab.

Excuse me, sergeant, how was he killed?

It was a gunshot right in the ticker.

You keep any handguns around here, Mr. Armstrong?

Certainly not.

Did you notice any powder burns?

No.

What'd you say your name was again, lady?

Fletcher. Jessica Fletcher.

Did you know this guy?

Well, not really.

I mean, I met him last night for the first time, briefly.

Mrs. Fletcher is a guest of the Astrophysics Institute.

She's also a writer of some repute.

Oh, yeah?

My wife's a writer too.

Oh.

About this guy...

Well, he worked for Madeline DeHaven.

She's the director of one of those federal agencies.

GOA.

Oh, great, just what I need--

A stiff with clout. Anyway, come on.

Let's get to this telescope business.

Well, as I started to tell you before,

we found it focused in on this window.

That telescope is 30 miles away from here!

Thirty-three.

Easy.

You guys finished with the phone?

Yeah, it's dusted.

- Hello. - Russell Armstrong, please.

Yeah, he's here. Who's this?

This is Fay Hewitt.

Hold on.

It's for you, a Fay Hewitt.

Don't stay on too long. I want to keep the phones free.

Yes, hello.

Russell, forgive my calling like this,

but I've been terribly worried.

What's happened?

I mean, who is it?

Drake Eaton.

He's been murdered.

Oh...

Is there anything I can do?

Madeline DeHaven, she ought to be told.

Well, I'll call her right away.

Thanks, Fay.

And I'll talk to you later.

Vertical blinds are closed.

Drawer on the table next to the bed is open.

That's interesting: the bed has been mussed

but not slept in.

Oh, yeah.

Probably some kind of a struggle.

Say, Mrs. Fletcher, what kind of books do you write?

Cookbooks? Gardening tips?

Actually, murder mysteries.

Oh, no kidding?

A nice lady like you.

You make any money at it?

Well, actually, yes.

Oh, my God, no!

Carrie?

What are you doing here?

Oh, Aunt Jess.

Who the hell is this young lady?

This is Mrs. Palmer,

the lady I've been lending this vacation house to.

I don't know what happened. I wasn't there last night.

So this Drake Eaton.

This stiff on your living room floor,

you never saw him before, right?

I told you that, sergeant.

Look, ma'am,

I'm just as tired as you are of this, okay?

But I got a real problem with your story.

Like where were you last night

when this stiff was bleeding to death all over your rug?

I told you, I had some problems to work out.

Personal problems.

So around eleven o'clock, I took a drive.

- Alone? - Yes, alone.

I parked at a deserted place up in the hills.

I fell asleep, and I woke up a couple of hours ago.

And naturally, you didn't see anybody,

and nobody saw you.

That's right.

Sergeant Kettler, my niece and I spoke briefly

on the telephone last evening.

What she is telling you is consistent

with her state of mind at that time.

Oh, really?

Well, you see, when I put the pieces together, ma'am,

I get a different picture.

She splits with her old man and walks out.

Happens all the time, only this time

the old man's playing peek-a-boo through a telescope.

And some guy winds up dead on the floor.

Now it doesn't take a genius to put that together, does it?

Where is your husband, Mrs. Palmer?

I'm having a little difficulty finding him this morning.

I don't know.

Sergeant, we've been through this a dozen times.

Mrs. Palmer has given you her statement.

May I take her home now?

Oh, sure. Hey, listen, don't let me hold you up.

Only don't go too far.

Because I have a funny feeling that once I locate her husband,

I'm gonna want to talk to her again.

Carrie, that story you told Sergeant Kettler

about driving around and sleeping at the beach?

Jessica, please, no questions.

Just trust me.

Carrie.

Oh, Leonard.

I'm sorry.

Carrie, when did you get back?

Oh, God, I've been so stupid.

Leonard.

I wasn't with Aunt Edna.

Shh.

Now, everything's going to be fine, Carrie.

Leonard, I hate to dampen this moment for you,

but things are not going to be fine.

Drake Eaton has been murdered.

What?

In the house that Carrie has been staying in.

Murdered? Well, by who?

They're investigating.

Carrie?

Well, that's ridiculous.

And they've been looking for you too.

Sergeant Kettler is over at the observatory.

I think that we should go and talk with him.

Oh, of course, of course.

But why-why the observatory?

Leonard, last night you were wearing a plaid scarf.

Oh, was I?

I mean, I-I'm sorry, I--

Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, Miss DeHaven, I'm so sorry about Mr. Eaton.

I just heard about it from a Miss Hewitt.

And believe me,

whoever shot him is gonna feel even sorrier.

Well, the police are investigating.

They'd better be.

Or they'll feel the heat all the way to Capitol Hill.

Leonard, I understand some policemen

are poking about your observatory.

I can't imagine why,

unless they're looking for your elusive comet.

Will you excuse us?

Carrie, why don't you go up to my room and have a rest?

Meanwhile, you and I

should have a talk with Sergeant Kettler.

I worked here all night, till morning.

Dr. Palmer is on the verge of finding a comet.

I didn't know one was missing.

If you don't mind, Mrs. Fletcher,

I'd like to hear it from the doctor.

I went home, I went to bed.

I took the phone off the hook,

which is probably why you couldn't reach me.

Doctor, you see, I don't have a lot of those

fancy initials after my name, but I'm not stupid.

We did get a statement from the security guard

that you went whaling out of here at 12:35 last night

without signing the sheet.

No. No, that's mistaken.

Medical examiner puts the homicide

at about 1:00 a.m., give or take.

Tell me, Doc... do you own a gun?

No.

Doc, please, don't insult my intelligence.

We've already checked.

There's a .38 caliber revolver registered in your name.

Well, yes. I mean, I forgot.

I haven't seen it for months.

I think it's home in a closet somewhere.

Well, good, 'cause then the two men

I have at your house with a search warrant might find it.

A search warrant?

Aren't you rather racing to a conclusion,

Sergeant Kettler?

Ma'am, I looked through the telescope.

And let me tell you something,

it's not peeking at the Big Dipper.

It's focused on the house

where this guy's wife was hiding.

But Leonard didn't know that she was there.

No.

No, as a matter of fact, I thought--

Sergeant, there's no way Dr. Palmer could have been

looking at that house last night.

Oh, yeah?

The telescope was locked on a computer track

in an entirely different quadrant of the sky.

I know because I prepared the computer program myself.

Well, then, why was the telescope

playing peek-a-boo?

Well, perhaps someone moved the telescope

after Dr. Palmer left.

I mean, perhaps someone else wanted to know

what was going on.

Perhaps someone wanted to incriminate Dr. Palmer.

That's an awful lot of perhapses, ma'am.

Let me give you a couple.

Perhaps Dr. Palmer here was searching

for his wife who left him.

He finds her getting a little cozy with Drake Eaton.

And perhaps he takes a gun and decides to go out

and settle things himself.

Look, the computer input was dumped

when we shut the equipment down this morning.

But here is the program.

We can enter it and prove

that telescope was nowhere near that house last night.

Leonard, if I learned anything in the past few days

it's that I love you and I want to be with you...

if you still want me.

Carrie, you don't have to explain anything.

Well, I wish someone would explain some things to me.

There are few people in the world

as dear to me as you two.

But I'm sorry, a murder has been committed,

and you two are both lying to the police.

And I would like to know why.

Jessica's right. I owe you the truth.

Whatever happened,

it's my fault, my responsibility.

Leonard, you have to know.

I did see Drake Eaton last night.

That's okay.

The fact is, I asked him to come.

Before you, long before you, there was Drake.

It was a mistake, it didn't work out.

We broke up after a few months.

Well, why didn't you tell me, Carrie?

That was in the past. I would have understood.

Because I wasn't sure it was in the past.

Leonard, don't you understand?

I thought I had lost you to your work.

I was lonely. I felt neglected.

I wasn't sure anymore about anything, most of all us.

I needed some time to sort things out.

So you invented the little fiction about Aunt Edna.

Russell said I could use his house for a few days.

He said he wouldn't tell anyone.

A few weeks ago, I got a call out of the blue from Drake.

He said he was coming to the conference.

I sent a note to his hotel,

asking him to come by last night.

Drake had always been a friend, someone I could talk to.

That's what I wanted, just someone to talk to.

At least, that's what I told myself.

When he arrived, he'd been drinking.

It became obvious a talk was not on his mind.

All right, Carrie, this is not necessary.

This is just not necessary.

I tried to reason with him, but he was persistent, abusive.

He dragged me into the bedroom.

I was terrified.

I shoved him off, and I ran out of the room.

Jessica, I did spend the night in my car up in the hills,

but I didn't sleep.

That's the truth.

All right. I understand.

And we will never speak of this again.

Never speak of it again?

Leonard, Carrie has to tell Sergeant Kettler about this.

No.

But it's going to come out.

And when it does, it will only make things worse.

I mean, Sergeant Kettler isn't stupid.

I said no!

Now, she did not kill that man.

And I'm not going to put her through

this public humiliation.

If you love her, Jessica, as much as I do,

then what has been said in this room

will stay in this room.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

They told me you were looking for me.

Sergeant, I want to talk with you.

- Oh, yeah, come on in. - Thanks.

Make yourself comfortable.

You know, Mrs. Fletcher, I'm gonna lay my cards

right on the table.

It's about my wife.

Your wife?

Yeah. I told you, she's a writer.

Oh, yes, yes.

I remember you told me.

Right.

You see, I make notes on all my cases, you know,

put 'em on tape.

I'm sure you noticed.

And my wife writes them up.

I've got stuff you wouldn't believe:

sex, corruption, real kinky stuff

they couldn't even put in the papers.

Oh, well, yes, yes.

I can imagine that that sort of thing

might be very popular.

The problem is,

she doesn't have anything published yet.

That's where you come in, bein' a pro.

We figured, we give you all our stuff,

you know, the notes, the rough manuscripts.

You write 'em up,

you sell it to your publisher,

and we split 50-50.

What do you say?

Well, I hardly know what to say...

Well, actually, yes.

Drake Eaton's murder might make a very juicy potboiler.

That's what I thought.

Of course, I'd have to have access to all of your data:

autopsy, medical reports, interrogations--

Absolutely everything.

Absolutely. Absolutely.

We got a deal?

Oh, it's a deal, sergeant.

Hello there, Miss DeHaven.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, I'm terribly sorry.

I'm late for a meeting with Thor--

I don't want to keep you.

Please, I don't want this to get around,

but I am working very closely with Sergeant Kettler.

We are writing a book together.

How exciting for you.

Oh, yes, oh, my goodness,

I mean, this-- this murder mystery

is really a puzzle.

I mean, here this young Mr. Eaton arrives

and gets himself murdered,

when practically no one here knows him,

excepting you, of course.

That's not entirely correct.

He was also intimately involved with your niece.

Oh, dear, well, I don't think anybody knew about that.

Oh, but how silly.

Of course you would know, being so close to the victim.

He was an employee, nothing more.

An employee?

Oh, dear, I must be confused.

I mean, I thought

because you had adjoining rooms at the hotel...

Well, I couldn't help but take a peek inside,

and I did notice all of your toiletries

right next to his, and, well, I assumed--

We had adjoining rooms to facilitate our work schedule.

Look, don't get in my way, Mrs. Fletcher.

You're way out of your weight class.

I put so much heat on that homicide detective,

he checks with me before he winds his watch.

He knows who murdered Drake:

your niece's jealous husband.

Well, that-- that is just a theory.

Theory?

He has everything but the murder weapon.

He even has the scarf

with Leonard Palmer's blood on it.

Well, Leonard's not the only person

who owns a plaid scarf.

Come off it, Mrs. Fletcher.

Kettler may be provincial, but he's not stupid.

He already has a dozen witnesses who'll testify

that Leonard Palmer was wearing a scarf like that

on the night of the murder.

And now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Fay, what is it, what's happened?

Russell's given Leonard notice.

He's been fired.

Oh, dear, but why?

Politics, what else?

Yes?

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, I can't talk to you now.

I'm expecting a very important phone call.

I'm sorry, Mr. Armstrong,

and please forgive my Irish temper,

but whatever happened to the principle

"Innocent until proven guilty"?

If we wait until Leonard is proved guilty,

it will be too late.

Now, I have the reputation of this institute to consider!

Who else besides yourself

knew that Carrie was staying in your vacation house?

I resent that implication.

Well, I'm sorry, but I'd appreciate an answer.

Or do I call Sergeant Kettler and have him ask you?

No one knew...

at least not from me.

Could anyone have found out inadvertently?

Perhaps phoned the house looking for you?

No.

I don't like being disturbed when I'm there,

so the number is unlisted.

Now you're gonna have to excuse me.

This is my phone call, Mrs. Fletcher.

Armstrong.

What?

Yes, she's here.

Just a moment. Mrs. Fletcher, for you.

Sergeant Kettler.

Sergeant Kettler, I assume that there is

some good reason why you've brought us

all back here again?

Yeah. You know, book-wise,

I figured you'd probably really like to see a pro in action:

you know, scene-of-the-crime type thing.

Oh, yes.

Sergeant, are you charging me with something or not?

Well, now, just hold your horses, Dr. Palmer.

I brought the two of you over here because I figured,

well, this is where it happened,

and you both, one of you, might remember something.

But Leonard was never here.

Is this your gun, Dr. Palmer?

Well, I--I-- I can't be sure.

I can be sure.

You see, the registration checks out to you.

We found it in a storm drain a half a mile from here,

wiped clean.

But Leonard told you

that he hadn't seen the gun for months.

Someone must have taken the gun from his home.

Is this your scarf, Dr. Palmer?

Sergeant, there are dozens of scarves--

Thousands, in fact, like that.

Ma'am, I have a scenario going here,

and you're kind of messing up my rhythm.

Possibly because I'm marching to a different drummer.

Sergeant, the telescope pointed in this direction,

the gun, even the scarf.

I mean, isn't it obvious

that somebody is trying to frame Leonard Palmer?

Mrs. Fletcher, I know what I'm doing.

Doctor, how did Drake Eaton's blood get on your scarf?

That's not Drake Eaton's blood, that's mine.

That's not Drake Eaton's blood on your scarf?

Well, if it's your blood, that means one thing.

You two got in an argument

before you pulled the gun and shot him!

No! That's not true!

I had the gun.

I brought it with me when I came here.

I was afraid to be alone.

I kept it in the drawer in the bedroom.

When Drake tried to force himself on me,

I got free, and I grabbed the gun.

Oh, you saying you shot him in self-defense?

No! No! He took the gun away from me.

- That's when I left the house. - I can't buy that, ma'am.

I'm gonna have to arrest you for the murder of--

No!

You leave her out of this.

Carrie had nothing to do with this.

I shot Drake Eaton, sergeant.

I'm the one who killed him.

I did see them through the telescope.

I ran out of the observatory, drove to the vacation house.

When I got there, he came to the door alone.

But I'd seen shadows against the bedroom window.

I was sure I heard a woman's voice.

I knew Carrie was in that bedroom.

I guess you were pretty angry, huh?

I hit him, or tried to.

But he hit me, bloodied my nose.

That must be how my blood got on the scarf.

And so on and so forth.

I'll make sure you get a copy of this

for your notes, Mrs. Fletcher.

Sergeant--

Now look, I'm not gonna tell you how to write it,

but I do think you ought to pay attention to the technique.

Technique? I'm not sure that I know--

You get 'em together in the same room where it happens,

everyone's uptight, you play one

against the other and somebody cracks.

Sergeant, I am impressed.

I-I really am.

But you are too clever a detective

to be taken in by Leonard's confession.

Right.

I mean, it seems obvious to me, right?

Leonard Palmer didn't do it.

Well, then, why on earth did you arrest him?

Tactics.

See, as long as I've got Dr. Palmer here behind bars,

the real murderer's gonna feel safe.

Then you know who murdered Drake Eaton?

Well, sure, his wife is the one

who pulled the trigger.

This poor sap's covering for her.

Well, I can see that you're way ahead of me, as usual.

Of course I don't believe it.

He's protecting you.

The question is, how badly do you need protecting?

I didn't kill him, Jessica.

Drake was alive when I ran out of the cottage.

All right.

But one thing doesn't make sense.

If Leonard didn't know where you were,

how did he know to point the telescope

at Russell Armstrong's house?

Well, he didn't.

He said it moved of its own accord.

I know it sounds crazy,

but that's exactly what happened.

He said it was locked in position,

and then suddenly, while he was in the middle

of some calculations,

it just swung around and dropped down.

He looked through the eyepiece.

That's when he saw Drake and me through the picture window.

It's crazy.

There's no reason why that should have happened.

Perhaps there is.

Hello, Fay.

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

Have you seen Leonard?

How is he?

He's as well as can be expected, I suppose.

Any luck?

The comet?

No, not yet.

You know, it's ironic.

In medieval days, people were terrified of comets.

They thought of them as omens of evil,

harbingers of death.

I've never been much for portents,

but the last couple of days...

It must have been very difficult for you, Fay,

feeling as you do about Leonard.

Yes...

I admire him very much.

Oh, I think it's much more than mere admiration, Fay.

I mean, after all these years.

Please, Mrs. Fletcher, I am very busy.

Is this the program you gave Leonard

the night that Mr. Eaton was murdered?

- Yes. - Are you sure?

Yes, I'm sure.

I'm sorry, Fay, but it isn't.

The computer program that you gave Leonard

had a ring of coffee spilled on it.

This one has been redone.

No doubt without the commands that ordered

the telescope to move to the vacation house window.

My God!

I never dreamed Leonard would kill him.

You only wanted Leonard to realize

that his young wife was unworthy of his devotion.

Carrie wasn't capable of loving Leonard the way I did.

I shared his life more than she ever could.

If only--

If only Leonard had married you instead of Carrie.

I should have put it together sooner.

You phoned Russell at the vacation house

to find out what happened, but Russell said

that that number was unlisted.

Well, I overheard Carrie talking to Drake Eaton.

She said she was going to spend a few days

at Russell's vacation house.

I thought, if Leonard could only see for himself

what she was up to...

and then to be sure that your plan had worked,

you went up to the vacation house.

No!

Leonard said that there were shadows in the bedroom window.

Just before he entered,

he thought he heard a woman's voice.

Well, it wasn't me.

I was home in bed,

as far away from Leonard and Carrie and Drake Eaton

as I could get.

It's ridiculous, Mrs. Fletcher.

How could anyone in their right mind

assume that Leonard Palmer, of all people,

would shoot someone?

- What? - I said...

Never mind, I heard what you said.

Fay, it may not be too late to undo what's been done.

Miss DeHaven, thank you for coming.

I apologize for the short notice and the late hour.

You said on the phone you had some information

- about Drake's murder. - Yes.

In view of your keen interest,

I thought you might like to know

how Leonard Palmer came to be at the vacation house.

He was spying on his wife through that telescope.

Not exactly.

His assistant, Fay Hewitt,

you may have met her at the reception.

Gave him a little help by programming the computer

to move the telescope to the window.

Did she?

I wonder why--

Oh, I see.

Hell hath no fury, hmm?

I'm curious about something.

Did you follow Mr. Eaton to the vacation house,

or did you see the note Carrie had sent

asking him to meet her?

I was never at that house.

Weren't you?

Say, Mrs. Fletcher, what happened to that

nice-little-lady-from-Maine act of yours?

You had to have been there, Miss DeHaven.

You said the police had found the scarf

with Leonard Palmer's blood on it.

But even the police had assumed

it was Mr. Eaton's blood on that scarf,

which means that you had seen the fight between them.

A slip of the tongue, Mrs. Fletcher.

And I'll deny I said it.

Leonard mentioned he'd seen a shadow at the bedroom window.

He thought it was Carrie in the bedroom.

I thought it might have been Fay Hewitt,

but in reality, it was you.

You're confused, Mrs. Fletcher.

No, not anymore.

Carrie had sent Mr. Eaton a note

inviting him to the vacation house.

You probably saw the note and followed,

perhaps observing his romantic advances from outside.

But Carrie resisted him.

Even threatened him with the gun.

But according to what she said, he took the gun away from her.

Seeing Carrie leave, you must have come in

and had it out with him.

But Leonard Palmer arrived,

and Drake hustled you into the bedroom, out of sight.

Leonard thought it was Carrie in the bedroom,

but it was you, Madeline.

Leonard said that Drake bloodied his nose.

But Leonard was probably unconscious for a while.

I can only imagine what was between you and Drake,

but you'd had enough.

You were the one who shot him.

So when Leonard regained consciousness

and found Drake dead,

he assumed Carrie had shot him.

Remarkable, Mrs. Fletcher.

Too bad you can't prove any of this.

It's all theory.

I'll tell you something that isn't theory.

When you came down from your room in the inn

that morning, and I expressed my condolences,

you said...

Whoever shot him is gonna feel even sorrier.

How did you know he'd been shot, Miss DeHaven?

Fay Hewitt told me.

She called my room.

But Fay didn't know he'd been shot,

only that he'd been murdered.

That nickel-and-dime hustler

was climbin' over me to make a name for himself,

and all the while he was tellin' me...

Nobody uses Madeline DeHaven the way he did.

Finding that gun in the bedroom was like--

Like an omen, a portent, Mrs. Fletcher.

I didn't even hear it go off.

You know, I got to hand it to you, Mrs. Fletcher.

You are pretty slick.

Well, you're not so bad yourself, sergeant.

Oh, listen, about this case.

I know we talked about a deal,

but I don't believe we ever finalized anything, did we?

Oh, yes, that's right.

I mean, we agreed to think about it.

Yeah, 'cause I certainly wouldn't want

to welsh on anything.

But this producer is so worried about exclusive rights.

- A producer? - Yeah.

When the story about Madeline DeHaven's confession

hit the wire services, I got a call from

this Hollywood producer who happens to be a writer too.

I see, and he wants to write the story himself.

Yeah, he also needs a technical adviser.

I'm probably gonna get a part in the thing, you know?

Well, don't worry about it, sergeant.

I mean, don't give it another thought.

Well, I must say good-bye.

Be sure to let me know how it turns out.

Oh, thank you.

- Carrie. - Jessica.

Jessica, we've had so little time to visit.

Why don't you reconsider and stay for a few more days.

Not a chance.

Please, get me to the station

before Sergeant Kettler changes his mind.