All language subtitles for MrSWr4E17.A.Very.Good.Year.for.Murder.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Gambini Winery. Run by Gambinis.

And the cause of death?

It could be poison.

I really didn't know him all that well.

What was I supposed to do, let them break my legs?

You're a piece of equipment, Marco,

like a tractor.

Such violence.

It's a game.

People get hurt.

I mean, supposing this conglomerate

is run by organized crime.

It's none of your business.

You got a reservation on a plane back east, use it.

The vineyards of the family Gambini.

The finest grapes in the world, nurtured with love.

Papa did all of this.

So? What do you think?

I'd say that you are very proud of him, Marco.

Proud? You bet.

I mean, he's a tough old bird,

but he had to do all the fighting.

For me, it's been easy.

Not bad, huh?

For a penniless immigrant boy to create all this from nothing.

From nothing, Jessica.

You know, it's hard to believe

that he's going to be 75 tomorrow.

You know, I'm really looking forward to this, uh--

What do you call it?

Birthday party. It's a feast, celebration.

Friends comin' from all over. Music, dancing--

You're gonna dance too, tomorrow, Jessica.

A tarantella.

Ooh.

Well, uh, I'll do my best.

It's easy. I'll show you.

Come on. Let's get back.

Jessica!

Paul! There you are!

I don't believe it.

You look younger every time I see you.

Oh, thank you.

And you've put on a bit of weight.

Agreed.

Coach threatened my life if I didn't.

Next time you tackle some running back,

just remember who you have to thank.

Excuse me.

I want to check out my horse.

- All right. - You know, Papa's right.

If I hadn't passed English,

they would've kicked me off the football team,

and today I'd be picking grapes for a dollar an hour.

Oh, I doubt that very much, Paul.

My goodness, do you remember, in those days,

a summer without tutoring was a summer wasted.

So, just another job, that's what I was?

Oh, no.

You were a monumental challenge.

And don't you forget it.

- Paulie! - Hey, Tony!

Ow!

- You're getting fat. - You're driving as bad as ever.

Where'd you get those wheels?

Nine straight passes at the crap table.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Tony, the younger brother. Do you remember me?

Oh, of course I remember you, Tony.

Nice to see you.

- Is sis coming? - Of course.

With her latest boyfriend in town.

Michele's working in San Francisco.

Oh, yes, in advertising.

Yeah, well, this month.

She's a career girl without a career.

Ah, but the one thing you can count on

is she won't show up alone.

Yeah, she dangles those yo-yos

like marriage bait in front of Pop,

but it's just eyewash.

She's having too good a time to get serious.

- Tony! - Ah.

You had a phone call from Tahoe.

A man named John.

I left the number on the desk in the study.

Johnny? He's Mr. Sure Thing.

He knows horses like I know nuclear physics.

Excuse me.

Horses, the crap table, what a waste.

My brother's got more brains than all of us put together.

Papa, the doctor told you you have to take these.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah. Mr. Smart Guy doctor.

Take 'em away. Shoo. Shoo, shoo, shoo.

You have to take your medicine.

Ay, Jessica. Come in. We talk.

Uh-huh. Talk.

You talk some sense into him.

My daughter-in-law.

She thinks she's Florence Nightingale.

Hey, Paulie, leave us alone for a minute, huh?

I want to talk private to this nice young lady.

Okay, Grandpa. Behave yourself, huh?

No funny business.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

Yeah.

Yeah, no kidding.

That's not-wait. Hold on. What are you saying?

No--what are you, threatening me?

Don't threaten me, Johnny.

And I-and you know I'm good for it.

No, I'm not coming to Tahoe tonight.

It's my grandfather's birthday tomorrow.

Really, I really don't care what you think.

This morning I select this wine for the evening meal

like I do every morning.

It's what you call a ritual.

Hmm? Here.

Smell this.

Oh, my goodness.

It's called Valpolicella.

Made from special grapes grown in Barolo, in northern Italy.

I bring 'em over myself 18 years ago

this wine I drink only with special people.

Well, then I'm very flattered.

So, he... Marco, he took you riding.

Yes.

He showed you the vineyards?

So what do you think?

I think they're magnificent.

Yeah, one day, maybe soon,

all of that will go to Marco and his kids.

It's what you call a legacy.

Well, God willing, when I'm dead and gone,

they'll learn to appreciate it.

Of course they will. And don't be so morbid.

Seventy-five is a milestone.

It's not the end of the road.

You think they care the way I care?

The way my dear Rosa cared?

Well, aren't you being a little hard on them?

Maybe what's wrong, I wasn't hard enough.

Stella,

you know, I'm worried about Salvatore.

He doesn't look as good as he should.

A big company back east is trying to buy a winery.

Papa doesn't want to sell.

Ten years ago, he would've laughed at them.

But these days, he doesn't sleep so good.

But if he doesn't want to sell--

Do you know what kind of people

we're talking about here?

Men in fancy suits

who make screwdrivers and shaving cream.

Papa fights, but how much fight does he have left?

- Yes, but surely Marco cares. - Oh, sure.

My brother.

He's got a wife who'd rather

live the fancy life in San Francisco.

Who is it?

Every time she comes with a new face.

Michele?

She should get married and settle down.

Hi, guys.

- Sweetie. - Hi. Hi.

Gosh, it's good to see you guys.

Tony, Paul, say hello to Ben Schuyler.

Ben, these are my brothers.

- Hello, Paul. - Tony.

Uh, right. Uh, Paul. Nice to meet you.

You're the football player, right?

Right.

Yeah--I mean, what a stupid thing to say.

I think I saw you play once.

A friend of mine had the game on,

and I was sort of watching it.

Oh. A real fan, huh?

Yeah, I guess.

Come on. Let's go inside.

Oh, thanks.

Where does she find these guys?

Why can't she keep one for just a couple of months?

Marco, this visit, don't start anything with her.

She throws it in my face.

No.

She's 26 years old.

Maybe she doesn't want to die here

with your precious grapes,

or end up like your sister.

Papa needs me.

You're a piece of equipment, Marco.

Like a tractor or a wine press.

Just part of the machinery.

We both are.

I see in the quarterback's eyes

that the ball's coming my way,

so I time it so just when it gets there,

wham, I hit the guy with everything but the bench.

Paulie, enough.

His eyes glaze over like a frosted windshield.

Then the ball pops in my arms.

I go 11 yards. Touchdown.

Such violence.

Stella, it's a game.

People get hurt.

People get hurt driving to work,

but they don't get paid like I do.

Plus what you pick up on the side.

What's that supposed to mean?

Oh, come on, Paulie.

I'm just saying, last year you guys won ten games.

Nine of them you didn't beat the spread.

You got something to say, Tony, just spit it out.

Okay, boys, okay.

No, I'm not saying you, Paulie.

It's just what's been going on with your team

is no big secret, okay?

Tony, knock it off.

Tony, you lose a couple bets on the side?

As a matter of fact, I have.

Oh, well, who cares? It wasn't your money anyway.

Stop it. Both of you.

What kind of behavior is this?

We're supposed to be celebrating.

I offer a toast...

to a man who has taught me

the meaning of honor...

and respect,

the dignity of hard work,

and the joy of life.

When I die,

I hope the only thing they say about me

is that "He was the son of Salvatore Gambini."

And that "He was a credit to his father."

- Papa. - Papa.

I'm grateful to God

for giving me a strong and loving son.

Sit, sit, sit.

A caring, unselfish daughter.

Three beautiful grandchildren in whom I take great pride.

It warms my heart

to see once again the family gathered,

and joined by someone who's like family to us.

Tomorrow I reach another birthday.

But the day will come when I will

no longer be able to be with you.

But my heart is glad to know that you will all carry on,

that my beloved winery

will continue to prosper under the care

I know you will all bring to it.

Famiglia Gambini sempre.

"The family united forever."

Salute.

- Salute, Papa. - Salute.

Come. Mangia, mangia.

Grandpa? Grandpa?

Hey.

Hey. Paulie.

Grandpa, listen. I got to get to Tahoe.

I got--it's business. I got to see this guy.

Hey, what--what time is it?

About a quarter past six.

Now, I chartered a plane

so I could make it back to the party tonight.

You know I wouldn't do this if I didn't have to,

but it's very important.

Yeah, sure.

I'm very tired this morning. I'm--I'm gonna sleep in late.

You do me a favor.

Go--go down to my wine cellar

and get three bottles of '68 Bordeaux.

Sixty-eight, huh?

It's near the top of the rack at the bottom of the stairs.

Red label, okay?

I want to get--

I want to get something special for Jessica, huh?

Here's the key.

You'll decant the bottles before you go?

- Sure, sure. - Yeah. Hey, listen.

Everything's gonna be okay.

You get in any trouble, you come tell me, okay?

Don't do anything dumb.

I can handle this, Grandpa.

Heh. Sure.

- Thanks. - Yeah. Okay.

Go on. Go ahead. Go on.

Ow!

What was that?

Who screamed? I don't know.

Marco, what happened?

No, Pop.

Tony!

No. Come--Ow.

- Sit still. - It hurts.

You're lucky you're not dead.

You know, you really should go

to the hospital and get an x-ray.

No. I got to get to Tahoe.

You don't got to go anywhere.

No, you. Aunt Stella, please.

Pop, you don't give me orders anymore, okay?

Jessica, how is he?

Well, he's got a very nasty bump on his head.

How did it happen?

- Did he slip or something? - No.

One of the wooden steps to the wine cellar gave way.

You know, he really should go to the hospital.

Maybe you could talk some sense into him.

That'd be a first.

Well, it's not pretty, but it's safe.

Paul, where is the old step?

Down there. What's left of it.

May I take a look at it?

Go ahead. Not much to look at.

Jessica, is something wrong?

I'm not sure. Take a look at this.

That's just an old step that gave way.

Yes, but in spite of the splintered wood,

it's quite obvious that it has been sawed through.

Are you saying someone tampered with it?

Pop, I told you I'm going. I'm gonna go!

Don't talk that way to me.

And don't you walk away from me!

Leave me alone, Pop.

What are you trying to do, kill yourself?

Hey, tell me.

What's so important you got to go to Tahoe?

Now look. Come on, Tony.

I don't want to fight.

If I don't show, it could be very bad for me.

And that's all you need to know, okay?

Right.

You having a good time, Pop?

No, it's too fast for me.

Oh, that's a good year. Don't waste it.

All right.

Excuse me. All right.

There's more where that came from

if you start me against the Bulls.

Oh, wow. That's what I call energy.

Oh. She won't quit till the band does.

Not your kind of music?

When it comes to dancing, I'm all thumbs.

Uh, I think you mixed a metaphor,

but I think I get what you mean.

Uh, you know, it's really an honor to--

To meet you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, thank you very much.

When I was a kid growing up

on a little farm outside Moline, Illinois,

I used to lose myself writing stories...

Anything to escape the boredom

of milking cows and pitching hay.

Well, I think we all start out that way.

For the last four months, I've been writing every day

on a piece about lost California gold mines.

- Oh, that sounds fascinating. - Yeah.

But my real ambition is to write a novel.

Are there any tips you could give me?

Oh, read, read, and read some more.

You know, I'm in the middle

of a gripping mystery by PD James.

Oh, right. I love his work.

Her work.

Uh, "P" is for Phyllis. He is a she.

Sure, I knew that.

Uh, would you excuse me?

Maybe I can get Michele to slow down

long enough to grab something to eat.

Oh, sure.

Thanks, uh you get tired of gettin' beaten up

every Sunday afternoon, Paulie, give me a call.

I could use a deputy built like you.

It's harder and harder to handle the drunks.

Hey, you keep away from him.

When he retires, he's gonna come

and help run the family business.

- That so? - Sure.

All the kids.

Having a good time now, okay.

But pretty soon they all come back here.

You've seen the sign at the front gate, huh?

It says "Gambini," huh?

Gambini Winery. Run by Gambinis.

Papa.

You're so cute and funny.

Hey, Papa.

Come on. I talked to the band. This one's for you.

- Oh, no, no, no. - Come on.

Just listening to this music makes me tired.

Oh, now, come on, Papa.

- Please. - Aw, come on!

- Please. - All right, sis.

- What? - You and me. Come on.

- We got to show them. - Oh, no.

Come on, come on, come on, come on, come on.

So, Mrs. Fletcher, are you enjoying the party?

Oh, yes.

Although I shudder at the thought

of all these calories,

but they smell so wonderful.

Uh, I'm Thaddeus Kyle.

Well, how do you do?

And, uh, if anybody around these parts

has known Sal Gambini longer than I have,

I've yet to meet him.

Well, that's quite an accomplishment,

with all this competition.

Uh, I understand that there was

a minor accident at the house this morning.

Where'd you hear that?

Paul told me.

He's, uh, worried about the old man's safety,

as I'm sure you are.

Uh, I'm also the local police chief.

Ah, then Paul also told you

that it may not have been an accident.

Don't tell Sal.

He doesn't know,

but I've got a half a dozen men scattered throughout the room.

- Good. - Hmm.

Um, any idea who may be responsible?

- Me? - Well, Mrs. Fletcher,

you have quite a reputation as an amateur crime solver.

I'm afraid that's greatly exaggerated.

Thank you.

You know, greed can be a powerful motive.

The winery must be worth $30, maybe $40 million.

Are you suggesting that a member of the family

tampered with that wooden stair?

This place, it's been Sal's life,

but to the others, maybe all it means is money.

That's a very ugly theory, chief.

Well, I heard Sal turned down a real good offer to sell.

Could be somebody ran out of patience.

That's just a theory.

Uh, would you excuse me for a moment, please?

Oh, yes.

What, no breakfast?

Where's the smell of bacon?

First you sit down, then you get your breakfast.

Mmm. Hot cakes.

What's everyone else having?

- Good morning. Buon giorno. - Buon giorno, Papa.

What are you doing up?

Yes, I thought you'd be asleep all morning.

What time did you get to bed last night?

Don't you worry about me.

Pretty soon everybody leaves. Lots of time to sleep.

Stella, what are we having for lunch?

What did you ask for yesterday, Papa?

Osso buco gremolata.

So that's what you're gonna get, okay?

Okay, okay.

I just got to know so I pick the right wine.

No, I'll do it.

I don't want you on those steps.

What? I look like a cripple, eh?

Come on, Jessica. I'll let you choose.

You know, I'm not an expert.

So I'll give you advice.

You haven't seen my beautiful cellar in a long time.

I got a Soave,

it tastes so good, it makes you want to cry.

Here.

- Good Lord! - What is it?

It's Ben Schuyler.

All yours, John.

- Sam. - Sir?

Until I tell you otherwise, I want you right here, son.

- Keep track who comes and goes. - Right, chief.

Michele, is it possible that he had heart trouble

or some condition that you weren't aware of?

Look, I really didn't know him all that well.

I met him eight weeks ago when he came to the agency

to talk to my boss about a copy-writing job.

Excuse me.

Come on, sweetheart.

Doc says he's been dead about eight, nine hours.

Which means he died last night around 2:00 a.m.

- Give or take an hour. - And the cause of death?

This stays between you and me. It could be poison.

Oh, dear Lord.

Your dad worries about you so much.

Mom.

That little girl seems to be handling it pretty good.

Chief, she and the victim weren't all that close.

Mrs. Fletcher, only one person around here

even knew who the fellow was till yesterday.

It's kind of hard to believe he was killed by a stranger.

But I'll tell you something else that bothers me...

Finding the body in the wine cellar

with the door locked.

Do you know there was only one key?

Salvatore's.

Keeps it in a nightstand next to his bed.

Oh, I see. Now you're accusing Salvatore?

No. No, uh--

There could have been an extra key made,

or somebody could have sneaked into his bedroom.

Stella tells me that the old fella

sleeps pretty soundly.

All I'm saying is, whoever got Schuyler

sure likely was somebody inside this house.

Well, I can't argue with that.

Chief, maybe we should

take a look at Mr. Schuyler's belongings,

his luggage.

That is, if you don't mind. I mean, it was just a thought.

Of course I don't mind.

Maybe we can put that lively curiosity of yours to good use.

Did you find anything in his wallet?

What you'd expect...

Credit cards, driver's license, a couple of snapshots.

Well, here's something, credit card receipt.

Hmm. Matches one of the cards in his wallet.

Well, that's from a service station

in Long Island City, New York.

That's interesting. Take a look at that date.

Nine weeks ago.

That's one week before he met Michele

at the ad agency in San Francisco.

What's the point?

Last night he told me he'd spent

the last four months in California

researching a story

on lost gold mines of California.

What was he doing in New York?

I don't know. Vacationing? Visiting?

Visiting? But why would he lie about it?

Well, ma'am, he didn't exactly lie.

Maybe it just slipped his mind.

Maybe.

Jessica?

Hey, what are you doing?

Well, I'm almost embarrassed to tell you.

Ah. Playing detective, hmm?

You're pretty hot stuff.

What were you looking for?

Well, I'm afraid Chief Kyle thinks

that somebody inside the house

might have been involved in Mr. Schuyler's murder.

One of us?

He's crazy!

Well, I was hoping that I could find some sign

to prove that somebody outside broke into the house.

That's why all those questions to Michele, huh?

That crazy old coot. He thinks, what,

my granddaughter commits murder or something?

Salvatore, calm down.

Chief Kyle is only doing his job.

His job?

Did Michele ever talk to you about him?

About Ben Schuyler, I mean?

No. Why--why should she?

She's got a boyfriend each month.

They're all the same.

Mmm.

I'm not so sure about this one.

He told me that he was a writer,

but he hadn't the vaguest idea

who PD James is.

PD?

Just one of the world's

foremost writers of mystery fiction.

So I told you.

He was a jerk.

But listen, Jessica.

There may even be some people who never heard of you.

Oh, no doubt about that.

But there was something else.

He said that he wasn't very successful,

yet he drove up in a luxury convertible,

and all of his clothes came from very expensive stores.

Maybe he came from a wealthy family.

No, no.

He told me that he was brought up

on a little farm in Illinois.

No, there's something about Mr. Ben Schuyler

that just doesn't add up.

Papa?

Pap--Oh. Papa, Tony's back.

- Oh. Yeah. - Come, Jessica.

I'm sorry, kid. What a rotten thing.

I'm all right, Tony. Honest.

Here, Tony.

Thanks.

Guys.

Grandpa, I'm sorry I missed your party.

I tried to make it.

- Yeah. Sure, sure, sure. - Yeah.

- I got caught up on business. - Oh, yes.

And we know what kind of business it was, Tony.

Marco, leave the boy alone.

Oh, come on, Papa!

He shows no respect.

He comes and he goes like he owns this place.

He takes all the time. When does he give?

Let him grow up. He's still a boy.

Jessica, the phone. Chief Kyle.

Yes, chief?

I just got the report back from the coroner.

It was poison, all right.

- I see. - Now, that's not all.

On a hunch, I sent Schuyler's fingerprints

to the central file in Washington.

Mr. Schuyler's not Mr. Schuyler.

Oh?

His real name is Benito Soriano.

And according to their file,

he's a hit man for the mob.

A hired killer.

He came to the ad agency where I work

about eight weeks ago

to see about a copy-writing job.

One thing led to another,

and we went out the following evening.

Michele... excuse me, chief.

Um, Michele, who initiated the first date?

He did.

And on that date and subsequent dates,

did he question you...

Well, actually pump you about the family?

Not that I noticed.

He wasn't curious about anyone in particular?

One of your brothers or your grandfather?

Nothing out of the ordinary.

Look, I've told you all I know about him.

Thaddeus.

Uh. All right.

You can take her home, Marco.

I'll let you know if I need to see her again.

Thank you. Jessica.

Uh, Marco, uh, you go ahead without me.

- I want to talk to the chief. - Oh.

All right, let's say, that Schuyler's using Michele

to get at someone in the family.

Who?

Well, if Ben, or Benito,

was responsible for Tony's accident,

then I would have to say that Salvatore was the target.

The way I hear it,

these hired killers usually use guns.

Well, not if the death is supposed to look accidental.

Suppose you're right.

Who hired him? Why?

Now, who stood to gain by Salvatore's death?

I don't know.

Well, of course you do.

They all did.

The important question is,

who had the easiest access to an organization killer?

Through his Lake Tahoe connections, for instance?

Tony?

But Tony was injured in the fall.

Ah, a bump on the head, a few bruises.

How do we know he even fell?

Maybe he faked it.

You know, there is another possibility.

Stella told me that Salvatore has been under great pressure

from an eastern conglomerate to sell.

Kansatronics, something like that.

Well, now you're telling me that a Fortune 500

is hiring mob muscle to negotiate their contracts?

Maybe this company isn't even in the Fortune 5,000.

Have you ever heard of it? I haven't.

I mean, supposing this conglomerate

is run by organized crime?

Good morning, sir. May I help you?

Yeah. My name is Stephen Ridgely.

Uh, I'm here to see Paul Gambini.

- Is he expecting you? - Uh, no.

Well, may I see some identification, please?

Well, yeah, sure.

- Steve. - Paul.

That's okay, deputy. I know this man.

The murder's been all over the tube in LA.

I took the first flight I could get.

Let's go for a ride.

Who is it?

I don't know. A friend of Paulie's.

- Get his name! - I'll ask the deputy later.

- No, now, Marco, now. - No, no, no.

I want to find out about this $50,000 business.

I told you. I wrote a check.

Only you don't have $50,000 in the bank!

You don't have $50 in the bank.

Will you come on?

Now, they were threatening me!

Now, what was I supposed to do,

let them break my legs?

Kill me?

How do you like that?

You're a real joy to me, Tony. You know that?

You throw around money you don't have,

and then you expect your grandfather

and me to bail you out.

Take it easy, Marco.

No, Papa. I mean, I want to know

what the hell kind of a life this is.

I work 14 hours a day. For what?

For this?

Maybe Fiona's right.

Maybe you ought to sell the winery, Papa.

Be done with it.

That's enough. Marco. Leave us.

- Papa-- - Now.

Antonio!

What am I gonna do with you?

Grandpa, I'm sorry.

Yeah. Yeah, I know.

All the time you're sorry.

I know, you don't mean bad, but--

Antonio, listen.

I've been waiting a long time for you to grow up.

You... You got the brains.

You're the smart one.

You're the one who'll be able

to take over from me and from your papa.

But how am I gonna make you care?

Huh? How?

I care.

I do. I--

I don't know. I got this thing that...

I'm an old man, Tony.

I haven't got much time left, huh?

I don't want to die

with things the way they are now.

- You're not gonna die. - Everybody dies.

It's what you do before you die that's important.

Here. Go cover the check.

But you think about what I say.

Okay.

Thank you. Thanks.

Nah, nah, nah, nah.

Well, at least stay for lunch, huh?

Okay.

Oh, Jessica, I'd like you

to meet an old friend of mine, Steve Ridgely.

- Steve, Jessica Fletcher. - Pleasure.

- How do you do? - And, uh, my aunt Stella.

Aunt Stella, would you mind

setting another place at lunch for us?

Are you one of Paul's teammates?

Me?

No.

I don't know very much about football.

Uh, Steve's an... investment adviser.

Jessica.

- You got a minute? - Excuse me.

Sit. Sit.

Is something wrong? You seem upset.

My friend, Chief Kyle, just called me.

Asked me some questions about that company back east

that wants to buy my winery.

Yes. He thought--

No. It's not what he thought.

It's what you thought.

Well, he asked me for my help.

Jessica, my business dealings,

they got nothing to do

with the death of that hired killer.

Are you so sure?

Salvatore, you've been under

a great deal of pressure to sell.

Now, that so-called accident

was obviously aimed at you, not at Tony.

I don't know

what that New York bum was up to.

The guy is dead. Who cares?

Yes, but whoever hired him--

No. Come on, Jessica. It's over.

That's it.

It's none of your business.

You got a reservation on a plane back east, use it.

I'm sorry. I--

I don't mean to be ungracious, but this is family business.

Gambini family.

- I'll pack my things. - Yeah.

Jessica, wait, wait, wait!

Paul, what's going on? Who--

It isn't what you think.

But I can't tell the others.

Come on. I'll explain.

Stephen Ridgely, special investigator?

Working for the football commissioner

out of the league office in New York.

And what are you investigating, Mr. Ridgely?

Gambling.

Last year, there were rumors that some of Paul's teammates

may not have been trying as hard as they should have.

Steve asked me to cooperate

to find out if the rumors were true,

and if so, who was involved.

Oh. I'm beginning to understand.

When the news got out that a mob killer

had infiltrated the Gambini household,

they thought they might be after you, Paul.

Sports gambling involves millions.

And some of the people involved are dangerous.

Paul and I decided to go through his things to see

if we could find something to link this mob killer

to the eastern syndicate.

Well, I'm afraid Chief Kyle and I beat you to it.

The one unusual thing that we found

was a credit card slip

that puts your man in Long Island City

nine weeks ago.

Perhaps he was, uh, making arrangements

with whoever hired him.

Or he was home for a visit.

That's where Soriano really comes from,

not that phony Midwest farm Paul said he told Michele about.

Yes, but still, if he was in New York--

The truth is,

he could have been hired by anyone from anywhere.

I keep telling Steve it doesn't make sense.

If someone wanted to get to me, why go to this trouble?

I'm a sitting duck anytime, anywhere.

Yes. Yes, of course you are.

And so is Tony.

Salvatore?

Oh. Come.

Jessica, I'm sorry if I was impatient with you.

Uh, I haven't been getting much sleep lately.

Look, you want me to ask Paulie

to drive you to the airport?

I'm not leaving right now.

I want to talk to Chief Kyle first.

Look, I told you--

You told me a lot of things, Salvatore.

Most of them weren't the truth.

That hired killer was after you.

You gonna start that up again?

It was something that Paul said.

Soriano would never go to these lengths

to kill Tony or Paul.

They were easy targets, all too accessible.

But you, Salvatore, you stay close to home.

You rarely go to the winery anymore.

I mean, somebody trying to kill you

would have to come up with a very clever ruse

to gain access to this house.

Hey, that'd be good for one of your stories.

You found out who he was.

And when he nearly killed Tony with that so-called accident,

you killed him.

Jessica, I never saw the guy before in my life.

Well, then why did you call him

"that New York bum"

when he was trying to pass himself off

as a young farmer from Illinois?

But you knew better.

How? When did you find out?

When?

From the beginning, that's when.

Michele...

You think I'd let her marry any Jim Boni off the streets?

On the phone, she tells me about this Ben Schuyler.

So I check him out, just like I check all of them out.

Checked him out with whom?

People who know, okay?

Friends. Huh?

They tell me all about this Benito Soriano.

Now, Jessica, I don't have to be a college professor

to know what he's after.

But why?

Because certain people want to buy this winery,

and I don't want to sell.

Maybe they figure Marco or Stella

or my grandkids won't be so tough.

Jessie, we're not talking nice people here.

But if you knew, why did you let him come?

To kill him?

No.

The other way around.

What?

You let him come here so that he could kill you?

Jessica, what you've been hearing

about my health, it's all true...

Only worse.

I--I drink the wine for the pain,

but it don't do any good.

I only got a few months left.

That's all.

Salvatore, I'm sorry.

Now, what are you sorry, that I'm dying?

So--so what? That's not important.

I got a family here that's not a family.

You see them. Only worrying about themselves.

They're not thinking about my winery,

about the legacy I want to leave them.

And then I figure out--

What--what can I do

to bring this family together, huh?

To make them care.

Then it comes to me. Huh?

It's all here. Huh? In this letter.

Who that guy was, who he was working for,

and why they killed me.

I figured maybe this would make the family so angry,

they'd pull together

to fight against this bunch of thieves

trying to steal my company.

Oh, dear Lord.

It's all in the will.

The winery goes to the whole family

in equal shares.

Nobody can sell until they all agree. All of them.

But when Tony almost got killed because of me,

I figured I'd better kill this guy

before somebody else got hurt.

So I bring him down here after the party.

I offer him a very special glass of wine.

The first wine I ever bottled.

That bum's palate was so dull he didn't taste nothin'.

Not the wine, not the poison.

I should've gave him junk.

It was a waste of good wine.

- But murder? - Of what?

I killed a wild dog?

I'll take my chances with God.

Jessica, you're a good friend.

You'll see my family gets that letter.

Salvatore. Oh, no.

Oh, dear Lord. Paul! Stella!

Come. Come here quickly!

No, it's better this way.

Help me! Paul!

Jessica, we want you to know,

all of us, whatever happens,

we're going to fight to keep the winery.

I've been very selfish.

I never realized how much Marco was like his father,

how much they both loved the place.

We got to him in time, Mr. Gambini.

Oh, thank God.

He's asking for you.

Try not to make it too long.

I knew there was something I hated about this job.

Chief...

Thaddeus.

You know, there isn't any real evidence

that Salvatore killed that man.

Yes, I know.

Except for his confession.

Which, frankly, is, uh--

Well, it's growing very dim in my mind.

Is it?

In fact, by the time the country prosecutor

gets around to questioning me,

I wouldn't be surprised

if it hadn't faded away entirely.

You know, if the old fella got himself a real good lawyer,

it'd probably take six months,

maybe a year before we'd get him to trial.

By that time,

hardly seems worth the bother of the paperwork.

That was my thought.