All language subtitles for MrSWr5E06.Wearing.of.the.Green.

You slipped? You fool!

- I will show you slipped! - Oh!

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

I understand you ran afoul

of the iron maidens last night.

Detectives Stacey and Chadwick.

Maybe it's some kind of publicity stunt for your book.

- You mind? I'm interrogating a suspect. - A suspect?

I'm taking this to Mr. Blackthorn. We'll see what he thinks.

I advise you not to do that.

- She's got it. - Who?

Siobhan O'Dea.

Suppose I could get into Siobhan O'Dea's apartment.

Nobody gets in to see that lady. She's a hermit.

Mr. DiMarco, there's someone at my door.

Mr. DiMarco, there's someone at my door.

You've let someone come up here to my door!

Please, Ms. O'Dea. I must speak to you.

- It's very important. - Now, he's knocking.

Mr. DiMarco, you come up here and remove him right away.

I know you're in there.

Please, I only need a moment of your time.

There's something in the paper you must see.

Look, I'm shoving it under your door.

Won't you please take a look?

It's about the tiara.

Hey, you! What are you doin' here?

I just wanna see Ms. O'Dea.

How'd you get up here?

I just want to talk to her.

Well, she doesn't wanna talk to you.

Come on. Let's go, buddy, before I call the cops.

Come on, come on. Let's move it.

Does this look like a precious gem?

Of course not. But do not be fooled by the dull finish.

Very shortly, this ugly duckling

will be transformed into a beautiful marquise diamond

worthy to be hung about the royalest of necks.

Note the deftness

with which Mr. Stavros handles the gem,

what confidence he displays

as he places the blade in the pre-cut notch.

Of course, Mr. Stavros knows that one slip of the hammer,

and this five-million-dollar gem

could be reduced instantly into a pile of worthless diamond dust.

But here is a man with ice water in his veins,

whose courage and skill are far beyond that of ordinary men.

Go. Go. Cut the stone, Stavros. We don't have all day.

Oh, dear!

My God, you idiot!

I'm sorry, Mr. Dolby.

Sorry? You have just destroyed millions of dollars!

- My... My hand must have slipped. - Slipped? You fool!

- Mr. Dolby. Please! Please! - I will show you slipped!

Oh.

Whoo-hoo! Mrs. Fletcher, that was quite a sight, was it not?

Well, yes.

Oh! Oh! Do not fear, dear lady.

This precious gem was totally worthless,

fit for nothing but a good joke.

A joke? You certainly had me fooled.

Laszlo, don't you ever get tired of pulling that gag?

Never, my dear, and I pray that I never do.

Uh, Jessica Fletcher, Andrea Dean, our jewelry designer.

Andrea, Jessica Fletcher. J.B. Fletcher.

Oh, yes, you're writing the book.

Mr. Blackthorn mentioned you.

- How nice to meet you. - Thank you.

You know, when I decided to set my next novel

in a fashionable jewelry store,

I had no idea what I was getting into.

Oh, well, I'm afraid it's not as glamorous as it sounds.

In fact, most of the time it's downright dull.

Well, I certainly hope not, because my readers

will forgive me anything but boredom.

How do you like the place so far?

I haven't had a chance to see too much of it.

I just got here, and Mr. Blackthorn

has been tied up in a meeting.

Uh, Mrs. Fletcher? Mr. Blackthorn.

- Oh! Excuse me. - Uh-huh.

Mrs. Fletcher, can you forgive me? I'm still tied up.

Oh, don't give it a second thought.

Your people have been wonderful.

Well, I'm afraid lunch is out,

But I absolutely insist we have dinner this evening.

- I'd love to. - Excellent. I'll send a car around

to your hotel about eight.

Looking forward to it.

- Now, where were we? - We were discussing the tiara.

Now, look, Mr. Blackthorn.

It's one thing to drum up some publicity with this book

Mrs. Fletcher's writing, but it's something else

to risk the Queen of Tara.

If you put that thing on public display downstairs,

I cannot guarantee its safety.

What neither of you seem to grasp

is that we're not selling mere jewelry here.

Any fool can peddle a stone in a gold setting.

And, I might add, at a price we cannot match.

Blackthorn has always been, and will always be,

a thoroughbred, not a plow horse.

Don't ever forget that, either of you.

- Excuse me, Diane. - What is it?

I've redesigned the necklace for the five-carat marquise.

I think you'll like this one.

No. It's much too simple.

But the stone is simple. I mean, that's what

we're selling here. Elegant simplicity,

the Blackthorn hallmark.

Your design is dull.

Mr. Blackthorn has always liked my work.

Mr. Blackthorn is much too busy to concern himself with trivial detail.

Diane, you are not gonna keep shutting me out.

I have Mr. Blackthorn's complete confidence.

He has given me the authority to run this store.

What is it with you?

Fear? Jealousy?

Oh, no.

You gotta be kidding.

You think that I'm competition.

Diane, if you want him, you can have him.

- I don't know what you're talking about. - Yeah, right.

Yes, the shattered diamond.

That's just the sort of prank he loves to play.

I always thought of Hungarians as melancholy and dour,

but Laszlo Dolby has the soul of a leprechaun.

And he's a poet. He told me that he'd written several plays.

Back in Budapest, before he escaped

from the Russians in the mid-'50s.

I read one of 'em.

Political trash. Anti-Marxist melodrama.

After he arrived in America,

he tried to make a go of it in the theater.

Luckily, his family had raised him in the diamond trade.

Otherwise, he'd have starved.

You know, Hudson, it's interesting.

You've turned the conversation

to absolutely everyone except yourself.

You can't want to write about me.

That, my dear Jessica, would be dull stuff indeed.

Sixth generation of a bloodline that grows increasingly thinner.

Oh, here I am, prattling away.

What about you? What else do you want to know?

What can I do for you?

Uh, well, I did ask your security chief, Mr. Selkirk,

if he'd show me the vaults.

But he was, um, reluctant to do so

without written authorization from you.

Was he?

Well, what do you say we go and see them tonight?

Whenever we come after hours, we always use this door.

Each morning this code is changed

to a new five-digit number.

Once the correct code is recognized,

it activates this scanner,

which reads the palm print of a handful of key personnel.

Oh! I hope I can use that in my novel.

I'd be crushed if you didn't.

Now, there are two armed security guards on duty

at all times in this area during business hours.

Anyone taking gems out of the vault

has to use these two tables

in clear view of the guards and these television cameras.

I'm impressed.

Oh, Mr. Blackthorn.

I didn't know you were stopping by tonight.

Spur of the moment, Wilson.

This is Mrs. Fletcher.

- How do you do, ma'am? - Hello, Mr. Wilson.

And, uh, you say you were in the vault

at the, uh, time of the explosion, Sir?

- Yes. - What time was that?

I don't know. Thirty minutes ago, I suppose.

I didn't look at my watch.

No need to get annoyed, Sir.

We're just tryin' to do our job here.

- Now, this uh, vault... Where is that? - Downstairs.

- And your guard was with you at the time? - Yes.

This envelope you say the thief left in place of the Tara...

Some kind of a joke. $1,500 in cash?

The tiara was worth over three million.

Everything else seems to be secure.

It looks like all they took was the tiara.

- Tara. - What?

It's pronounced "Tara."

It's "tiara," Bess.

Kathleen, I got it written down right here. Tara. T-A-R-A. Tara.

It's "tiara," Detective...

Stacey. Nice to meet you.

It's the Queen of Tara tiara.

The Tara tiara? What kind of name is that?

Excuse me!

Excuse... Excuse me, ma'am.

Would you mind? This is a crime scene.

Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't touch anything.

Could you just move out of the way, ma'am.

This is Jessica Fletcher, Detective.

J.B. Fletcher, the noted author.

Yeah? Well, that's nice.

Say, I, um... I read one of your books.

It was very good.

Well, thank you.

Kathleen, would you mind? We are trying

to solve a robbery here.

Mrs. Fletcher was in the vault with me

when the explosion occurred.

That right? Sir, would you mind telling me what you were doing

back here at this time of night?

Mrs. Fletcher's researching a new book...

a murder mystery that takes place in a jewelry emporium

not unlike this one.

And she was interested in our security system.

Is that right?

Look, I'm sure that you've noticed this,

But don't you think it's odd that this...

This door blew out toward the street?

I mean, it looks to me as if the explosive

charge must have been placed inside the door.

Oh, no. That can't be.

See, the perp blew the door from the outside in.

Oh, I really... I really don't agree.

The other odd thing was that the alarm went off

several seconds before the explosion.

That right? That how it happened, Sir?

Yes, I believe so.

What are you getting at, Mrs. Fletcher?

Well, only that it's possible that someone

smashed the case, took the tiara

and then blew out the door,

not to enter, but to escape.

An inside job? How could that be?

You told me the, uh, store was empty. I mean...

- The security guard! What's his name? - Wilson.

Wilson! Wilson!

Hey, uh, Wilson.

I thought you told me that this store was empty.

It was. At least I thought it was.

I didn't check every office.

Pardon my French.

What the hell is goin' on around here?

Marvin, would you listen to me?

I'm gonna be stuck here for another

couple of hours at least.

There's some hard-boiled eggs in the fridge.

Could you make some egg salad sandwiches

for the kids for school tomorrow?

Well, what do they want, goose pate?

Marvin, I hate egg salad, too, but, uh, it's good for 'em.

Make the sandwiches, Marv.

I can't talk anymore. I gotta hang up now.

Marvin, I'm hangin' up. Now.

The guard's awake, he's not feeling so great.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher, I, uh...

I've been thinking a lot about that theory of yours.

Uh, very interesting.

Well, it does seem logical.

You know what we got in here, ma'am?

Barbiturate.

Yeah, they tell me it's enough to put

half of the Bronx into La-La Land.

- Oh? - Uh, how long did you say

you'd been in town, ma'am?

I flew in last evening.

And it was your idea to come back here this evening

to, uh, check out the vault?

Well, no, not exactly. Actually, Mr. Blackthorn suggested it.

Yeah, but only after you hinted around.

Detective Stacey.

Uh, is there some point that you'd like to make?

You and Blackthorn come back to the store.

The security guard comes to the vault,

leaving the tiara unprotected.

Bang! The tiara gets stolen.

Uh, had you known any of the store's employees, ma'am,

prior to coming here tonight?

That'd be easy enough to check.

Surely you don't think that I had anything

to do with the theft?

Hey, your sudden arrival here, the theft...

It's a big coincidence, and I believe in coincidence

like I believe in the Tooth Fairy.

Maybe it's some kind of publicity stunt for your book.

Kathleen, do you mind?

- I'm interrogating a suspect here. - A suspect?

Would you care to make a statement, ma'am?

I don't have a statement.

I've told you everything that I know.

Fine. If that's the way you want it,

we will leave it like that for the time being.

Meanwhile, we'd appreciate it if you do not leave town.

Look, I did not have anything to do with this robbery.

We appreciate that, ma'am.

We'll be in touch.

So, Kathleen, what do you think?

- Somethin' in the eyes. - That's what I thought.

- Check her out. - Right.

Well, I don't know about you, Hudson,

But I'm free to go, and I'm going.

I think I'd better stay, but I'll see that...

- Andrew drives you back to the hotel. - Thank you.

You know, Hudson, I'm right about that

explosion coming from inside the door.

I just can't believe that any of my own people...

Somebody laced your security guard's coffee with a barbiturate.

Now, that somebody was hiding in one of the offices,

waiting for your guard to pass out.

I'm sorry. I hope I'm wrong.

Yes. I hope so, too.

- I'll call you tomorrow. - Thank you.

Hudson!

I was going to bed when it came over the news.

My God. How could this have happened, Hudson?

Excuse me. Mr. Blackthorn, Ken Parrish, WQEJ News.

Would you mind giving us a brief statement on camera?

Yes, I'm afraid I would.

Weren't you hanging around the store this afternoon,

- trying to see me? - Yes, Sir.

I was looking for an interview.

- Let's go inside. - Look, I'll only take a couple of minutes.

I'm sorry, Sir. You'll have to stand back.

Look, I'm just trying to get a story.

Then you'll have to get it over there.

What do you mean, it's not insured?

Now, I didn't say that. I said the company

would only insure the value of the stones.

But the tiara is worth ten times that.

It's a collector's item, a theatrical legend.

Oh, I'm sorry, Hudson.

- We all tried to warn you. - Yes, repeatedly.

Leo, how nice of you to show up, finally.

Well, believe it or not, Sir,

I do have a life outside of this store.

Yes, and one that's going to take up

- all of your time from now on. - Hudson!

I was not responsible for this theft.

You promised me a foolproof security system.

Yeah, which you have.

But there is no system that will prevent this kind of thing.

So, do you want me to check with the police,

or do you want me to go home?

- Excuse me. Mrs. Fletcher? - Yes?

I hope I'm not intruding. Ken Parrish, WQEJ news.

- Mind if I sit down? - Well... Well, actually, I...

I understand you ran afoul of the iron maidens last night.

Detectives Stacey and Chadwick,

- the pride of the Midtown Division. - Oh, yes.

I should warn you: you're at the top of their hit list.

- Who told you that? - I have my sources.

The ladies don't like help, especially from another lady.

Well, that sounds rather sexist.

Me, I'll take help from anybody who'll give it to me.

Well, you won't get much help from me, Mr. Parrish.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher. This could be a big story...

A very big story. The kind that could

vault a lowly reporter into an anchorman's chair,

maybe even get him a spot with one of the networks.

Well, that sounds lovely, but, uh...

What do you know about the Queen of Tara tiara?

Not very much, I'm afraid.

Good. As soon as you finish your coffee,

let's take a walk.

Siobhan O'Dea, Queen of the silver screen,

darling of Broadway, thrice married.

This theater was renamed for her in 1972.

Oh, yes, I remember seeing her in many movies. She was very beautiful.

And still is, according to those lucky enough

to catch a glimpse of her.

Here she is in her last big triumph, staged at this very theater.

"The Harps of Tara". The year was 1957.

My goodness. Isn't that the...

The Queen of Tara tiara? Yes and no.

Siobhan O'Dea always believed she was descended

from the ancient Irish kings of Tara,

which is why she commissioned this play.

Amazingly, it ran for nearly two years.

At the closing night party, she received a gift

from her fiance of the moment, Winfield Sprock.

- Oh, yes, the aluminum magnate. - One and the same.

He presented her with a reproduction of the tiara

she'd worn in the play: a dozen emeralds,

half a dozen diamonds in a gold setting.

It was dazzling. They say it's

the only time she'd ever cried without

- the help of drops in her eyes. - Oh, how romantic.

Before Mr. Sprock could become husband number four,

he choked to death on a fried oyster in the Empire Grill.

Oh, dear!

- A cup of coffee, Mrs. Fletcher? - What a good idea.

From that moment on, Siobhan O'Dea's life went into a downward spiral.

Second-rate movies, short-lived plays,

a TV series best forgotten.

What the tax man didn't get, the auctioneer did.

The tiara was sold a dozen years ago,

and with the little money she had left,

Siobhan O'Dea went into hiding. Sugar?

Oh, just black, thank you.

Today she lives in a building across the street,

recluse, waiting to die.

She hasn't made a public appearance in 12 years.

But, Mr. Parrish, what has all this got to do with me?

If I could get her angle on this robbery,

this would be a major story, Mrs. Fletcher.

I know there's no way she'd ever see me,

But I happen to know she's a big fan of yours.

- Oh, no, no. - Don't you see?

I know she'd grant you an interview,

and then I could interview you...

No, no. No. I'm sorry, Mr. Parrish.

That lady has chosen to shut herself away from the world.

Now, I am not going to violate that.

Thank you very much. You've been a charming tour guide,

and I do wish you the very best of luck.

I'm sorry, Mr. Blackthorn.

You leave me no choice.

Andrea, I need you now more than ever.

May I remind you, Ms. Dean, you have a contract.

Which doesn't include taking a 20% cut in pay.

I merely suggested that as a stopgap measure to see us

through these troubled times.

Please, don't make this more difficult.

- Have you received a better offer? - Hudson, there is no offer.

I just can't go on like this.

Five years ago, when your father gave me my first chance,

I felt like I was the luckiest woman alive.

But when he died, something died with him.

For the past two years, since Ms. Raymond was put in charge,

nothing has been the same.

If you have a specific accusation,

I'd like to hear it.

All I know is that I have been

forced to work with inferior gems,

that there never seems to be enough money to create the pieces

that gave this store its reputation.

No. I've had enough.

I'm sorry.

We'll find a way to pay your salary, Ms. Dean,

and you will honor the contract.

Excuse me. I seem to have come at a bad time.

Oh, not at all, Jessica. Please come in.

I can only stay a minute, Hudson.

I've decided to go back to Cabot Cove.

- Must you? - Well, I'm afraid I couldn't have picked

a worse time to research my book.

Maybe I could come back in a month or two.

I feel terrible about this.

Is there anything I can do to change your mind?

Just a minute.

Mr. Blackthorn, it's almost noon,

and there's still no answer in Laszlo's apartment.

Look, they come, they go. This isn't the YMCA.

But you didn't see him at all last night?

I told you, lady. I was watchin' the ball game.

Huh!

- Mr. Dolby? - Laszlo.

- Oh, he's been dead for quite some time. - I'm callin' the cops!

I don't think we should touch anything before

the police get here. Maybe we should wait outside.

Now, Mrs. DiAngelo...

Look, could I get a word in here?

Mrs. DiAngelo, just because my son

is flunking sophomore English is...

not necessarily an indication that he's a poor student.

I mean, uh... Well, uh, a teacher-pupil relationship

is a two-way street, ma'am, and...

Nah, I didn't say you were a lousy teacher. Ma'am...

All I'm try... No, Mrs. DiAngelo, all I...

What I'm trying to tell you is you seem to have a communication problem!

Oh, Excuse me, ma'am. We are all overworked and underpaid.

Well, fine.

Oh, no. You don't mind if, uh...

if I bring it up with your principal?

You ever have one of those days?

This morning my sink backs up.

My husband? Out in Jersey lookin' for work.

And my partner's out seeing her shrink.

My back is killing me.

I don't know. I gotta get a new mattress or somethin'.

Oh, you're Mrs., uh, Fleishchman, right?

Fletcher.

Fletcher. Right. Uh, lost Pekingese?

No. The stolen tiara. Last night? Blackthorns?

Oh, right. Yeah.

Last night you suggested that I shouldn't leave town,

but I do have to get home. So I thought

I'd drop by and leave you my telephone number

and address in Maine.

Well, thank you, ma'am. I appreciate that.

Detective Stacey, you may not be aware of this,

But last night a man named Laszlo Dolby was murdered.

We found his body, uh, just a couple of hours ago.

"We"?

Yes. Mr. Blackthorn, Ms. Raymond and myself.

Mr. Dolby worked for Mr. Blackthorn,

and he had been stabbed in the chest.

And, uh, you just happened to find the body?

Well, yes.

You do get around, Mrs. Fletcher.

Excuse me. I had nothing to do with the theft

of the tiara or Mr. Dolby's death.

However, I do think that the two are connected.

Well, ma'am, I, uh... I don't handle homicides.

Excuse me. Stacey.

What?

Wait a minute. Wait. What? What is...

Ma'am, uh, hold it. Can I have your name, please?

Uh, well, ma'am, can...

I appreciate that, but we need to have your name...

What's she calling me for?

- Who was it? - Some woman. Wouldn't leave her name.

She said she, uh, saw some guy hangin' around that apartment

where that, uh, Dolby fella was killed last night.

Says she recognized him right away.

He was one of those TV news guys.

Excuse me. Excuse me, Please!

Oh! You startled me. I thought you were the bellman.

Uh, Mrs. Fletcher, I, uh...

I realize that this is an imposition,

and if you're busy, I will quite understand.

Please don't feel that you have to...

be polite or stand on ceremony.

I realize this is quite unusual.

Uh, what is unusual?

I, uh, am an attorney for, uh, WQEJ,

and, uh, I...

I'm, uh, representing Kenneth Parrish.

Won't you come inside, Mr. Persky?

Thank you.

Now, what exactly is it that I can do for you?

Oh, no, not for me. No. Indeed, no.

But... But for Kenneth.

You see, uh, the station said I should come down and represent him.

Uh, which I would never do

because criminal law is outside my area of expertise.

- I'm a tax attorney. - Yes...

But I did speak to Kenneth, and I told him

that the station would rally behind him 100 percent

because if there's one thing they know, it's, uh, loyalty.

Uh, Mr. Persky, I don't wish to be rude,

- but I've got a plane to catch. - Oh, dear me, no. Uh...

I mean, uh, you can't.

Uh, I mean, Kenneth insists upon talking to you.

- Me? - Well, he says that he's innocent,

Mrs. Fletcher, and he says that you can help him prove it.

Something about a tiara.

I didn't kill him. Why should I kill him?

Ken, I was with Detective Stacey

when the anonymous tip came through

placing you at Mr. Dolby's apartment.

It's a lie. I... I mean, I was there, but no one saw me.

And they also have you with a parking violation

in a red zone right around the corner from the apartment.

- The time was 12:45 a.m. - Oh, great.

Look, if you want me to help you,

and I'm not at all sure that I can,

you're going to have to tell me exactly what happened.

Now, Mr. Persky said something about the tiara.

- She's got it. - Who?

- Siobhan O'Dea. - Are you sure?

Of course I'm sure. I saw him take it to her.

Wait.

Now, tell me, slowly,

everything that happened from the very beginning.

OK. You know how hard I've been working,

trying to drum up a story on Siobhan O'Dea and the tiara.

So the night of the robbery,

I wasn't getting anywhere with Blackthorn,

so I decided to give Ms. O'Dea one more try.

I pulled up outside her apartment.

It must have been just past midnight.

I was just about to get out of my car when I spotted him...

Laszlo Dolby.

I recognized him right away. I'd seen him at Blackthorns

that afternoon when I was trying to get

the story on the tiara.

He was carrying this small package.

It was screwy. It was even screwier

when the doorman lets him up in the elevator.

Blackthorns, Siobhan O'Dea...

There's only one common denominator.

- The tiara. - It had to be.

He came out about 10 minutes later without the package.

I figured I wasn't gonna get anywhere

with Ms. O'Dea, so I followed Laszlo back

to his brownstone in the Village.

He got lucky. He found a parking place.

I didn't.

So I finally gave up and parked illegally

and went inside the apartment building to talk to him.

He refused to let me inside.

I think he had someone in there with him.

Finally, he just shut the door in my face.

Mrs. Fletcher, I know the circumstances look awful for me,

but I didn't kill him.

Are you sure there was someone in the apartment with him?

No, it's just a feeling I had...

The way he was acting.

Mrs. Fletcher, they think I killed him,

and they think I stole the tiara,

But I'm telling you,

that tiara is in Siobhan O'Dea's apartment.

I'd stake my life on it.

In fact, that may be just what I'm doing.

The gentleman has been booked for murder.

- We don't do murders. - But you do do robbery,

and one of the charges against him is grand theft.

I can't go barging into this lady's apartment.

I need a warrant -Chadwick.

- I gotta show probable cause. - What?

All I got is this story about a paper bag,

which could've been a pastrami sandwich.

At that hour of the night?

You've gotta be kidding me!

190 bucks a month? What?

- Whose idea was that? - Detective Stacey,

you said yourself less than five minutes ago,

that the murder weapon was a stage prop

used by Siobhan O'Dea when she played Lady Macbeth.

There was a connection between her and the victim.

And the photograph on the wall proves that.

- I'm telling you, there are procedures! - Bess.

- What happened? Kathleen! - My co-op association

is trying to raise the dues. We have a meeting.

Kathleen, we just happen to have a job here!

Terrific. She's the only one with a personal life.

My sink's been backed up for two days.

Do I go running home?

- Look, I'm sure... - Ma'am, I cannot help you.

Now, suppose that I could get into Siobhan O'Dea's apartment.

Now, suppose I found the tiara.

- Would that be good enough? - Nobody gets in

- to see that lady. She's a hermit. - Yeah. But if I could?

Yeah, I suppose.

Good. Then why don't you find out her phone number for me?

- Yes? - Ms. O'Dea, it's Jessica Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher, how kind of you to have called.

Please, do come in.

Thank you.

I do hope you'll forgive me for intruding.

I do realize how highly you value your privacy.

Oh, yes, But exceptions must be made, mustn't they?

Please, come this way.

Come, sit over here.

I've made tea.

Oh, how nice.

It isn't true, you know, that I see no one.

I do have one or two good friends

who pay me the courtesy

of their company from time to time.

Yes. Laszlo Dolby, for instance.

Oh.

A dear, gentle man.

He's been terribly in love with me

for over 30 years.

Through it all, he's been the one person

I could really rely on.

Isn't it gratifying to have a friend like that?

- Sugar? - Oh, no, no. Just as is. Thank you.

He dreamed of being a playwright.

Poor man.

He had the soul of a poet,

but his words got lost on the way to the page.

After years of rejection, he finally gave up

and went into the jewelry trade.

Mrs. Fletcher, I can't tell you

how many wonderful hours of pleasure you've given me.

Every book, every page...

has been a gift, transporting me from these walls.

You made that world out there...

seem almost livable.

Thank you.

But you have such a wonderful gift yourself.

Oh, no.

No more. No more.

The Almighty gave me a ticket to a certain destination.

When I felt I had reached it, I got off.

And you have your memories.

It's enough.

You have such a wonderful collection of mementos.

Well, you've certainly had a very rich

and a very full life, Ms. O'Dea.

Full, yes...

and rich, at times.

Sometimes I wish he would come sooner.

For every smile, there was a tear as well.

You can try to shut them out,

but you can't.

I needn't tell you that.

Oh, no.

Oh, my. How lovely!

The Queen of Tara.

A man I dearly loved gave it to me.

We were engaged to be married,

but he died.

Afterwards, things were never the same.

- Where did you get this, Ms. O'Dea? - I told you.

I mean, recently.

You lost it several years ago,

and now you have it back.

It was a gift from a friend.

Laszlo Dolby?

Oh, Laszlo loves me very much.

He'd do anything for me.

I know it must have cost him a great deal of money,

but I couldn't help it.

I had to ask him.

Years ago, they stole it from me.

The government, those greedy people,

they took everything.

But when they took this,

they took my soul,

my very being.

Ms. O'Dea, there are some people downstairs

who would like to meet you

and talk to you about the tiara. Would you mind?

You probably aren't aware of this, Mrs. Fletcher,

but I am directly descended

from the Celtic kings of Ireland.

Oh, yes. It's a proven fact.

Laszlo understood that.

That's why he reclaimed my crown for me.

This is Jessica Fletcher.

I'd like to talk to Detective Stacey, please.

I think you should come up.

I should've booked her.

I should've booked her right there.

What for? Accepting a gift?

Do we know she didn't put him up to it?

It could've been her idea.

Could've been, but that's hardly proof.

I'll give you another "could've been."

Maybe that wacko also knocked off the victim.

That knife... That's just the kind of thing

- she would've used. Know what I mean? - How did she

get in and out of the apartment without being seen?

The doorman said that she never left the building.

Excuse me, ma'am, But what do you want from me?

You tell me that you think Mr. Parrish is innocent.

I say show me. You say you think the tiara

is in Siobhan O'Dea's apartment.

- OK. I go along. - And I appreciate that.

Now, tell me what it is I'm supposed to think,

I will try and go along some more

because frankly, I don't know which end is up.

This is just great. What now?

My Jag. It needs a new fuel pump.

You know how much that's gonna cost me?

Kathleen, your fuel pump is not the key issue here.

I'm supposed to drive to Southampton with Danny this weekend

to meet his parents, for Pete's sake!

Chadwick!

- She's seeing a doctor. - Yeah.

You know, he's a, uh, dermatologist.

- It's a serious relationship. - Oh, yes. Yes, of course.

I'm talkin' major bucks here, Mrs. Fletcher.

And, you know, maybe he's not Mr. Right, But I say, "so what?"

You can't live alone all your life.

Who told you this? And they're sure?

Is it possible that we could get back to the case?

Huh. OK. Yeah, Yeah, Yeah. Yeah, I got it.

- Hey, Bess. You're gonna love this one. - What?

You know that tiara? The one we saw at O'Dea's apartment.

It's a phony.

I don't understand. This is not the Queen of Tara.

Yeah, so we understand from your manager,

- Ms. Raymond, there. - It's an excellent copy.

It's fine workmanship, But the gems are fourth-rate.

- Where's the original? - Good question, Sir.

Surely you don't think I know where it is.

Oh, a smart man like yourself, Sir.

You got this little doo-dad here that you can't insure.

So, uh, you put a fake on display.

You know, under glass. Nobody gets a really good look.

My big problem, Sir, though, is, uh,

where is the original?

Well, I don't have it. Why should I?

The insurance doesn't even begin to cover its value.

Yeah, well, I thought of that.

You make a good point there, Sir.

You might ask yourself though, Sir:

who was in a position to make that kind of switch?

You know where to reach me.

Well, this is incredible.

I... I put that tiara in the case myself.

Of course you did, Hudson.

You know, things are starting to come together.

- Do you know who the thief is? - Oh, yes.

I'm pretty sure that Laszlo Dolby is responsible.

Look, he adored Siobhan O'Dea.

Doubtless, he'd have done just about anything for her.

But I suspect he might have drawn the line

at stealing three million dollars.

You said yourself that he was an honest man.

He had been, for over 20 years.

Doesn't it seem more likely

that Dolby made that copy to give to Siobhan O'Dea?

Her eyes were failing. He knew that she would never

be able to tell the difference.

Do you remember the $1,500 that we found?

I think that Mr. Dolby left that

to pay for the gold and the gems

that he used to make that replica.

- And then he faked the robbery. - Mm-hmm.

To cover himself with Ms. O'Dea.

Which brings us to Detective Stacey's question:

Where is the original, and who got it?

Ah, Jessica, I'm afraid there's a flaw

in your scenario. Laszlo bought

and sold gems. He was not an artisan.

He never could have made that copy.

- Are you sure? - Of course I'm sure.

Hudson.

Now, this is very important.

The night of the robbery,

I saw Ms. Raymond arrive just as I was leaving.

How long did she stay? Oh, I don't know.

An hour or so, I suppose.

- And after that? - She came to my place for a nightcap.

I see. And Andrea Dean, your designer. What about her?

I never saw her after that.

Frankly, I don't care if I ever see her again.

She's a very ungrateful young woman.

She walked out on her contract.

- Oh. So she's not in today? - No.

In fact, the last I heard,

she was planning a bus trip to San Francisco.

A bus trip? Why? Is she afraid of flying?

Not that I know of.

- Oh, my goodness. - Jessica, what is it?

Well, unless I'm completely off base,

your tiara is about to skip town.

Keep the change.

Thanks.

- Ms. Dean. - Yes?

Detective Stacey. This is my partner, Sergeant Chadwick.

We'd like to ask you a few questions

about the theft of the Queen of Tara tiara.

- I don't know anything about... - Our car is right

over there, ma'am.

I have a bus leaving in 35 minutes.

I'm afraid you're gonna have to catch another one.

Suppose you let us help you with your bags.

Well, Well, Well.

What do you know?

Officer, you had no right to do that.

Excuse me, Ms. Dean,

but this warrant gives us the right.

Yes, this is it. That's the genuine tiara.

- How did you know? - Mrs. Fletcher figured it out.

Why would somebody travel five days across country by bus

when they could get there in five hours by plane?

Maybe somebody who didn't want their luggage inspected

by an X-Ray machine?

You want that lawyer now, Ms. Dean?

No. That won't be necessary.

I was so sure that no one had seen me at Laszlo's that night.

No one did.

You made that anonymous phone call to the police

about the newsman, Ken Parrish.

Yes, but how did you know?

Because you didn't telephone the homicide division.

You phoned Detective Stacey,

and she was only investigating a robbery.

And yet the caller had to have known

about the connection to the murder.

You were the person who was hiding

in Laszlo Dolby's apartment...

when Mr. Parrish came to the door.

A couple of weeks ago, Laszlo called me

and asked me to make a copy of the Queen of Tara.

He said he wanted to bring happiness to a woman

who had known nothing but misery for the past 12 years.

He paid me $2,000 for my trouble.

I used inferior gems from the vault.

He said, oh, it didn't matter,

she would never know the difference.

And then when I heard about the robbery on the news the other night,

I knew Laszlo was responsible.

He got home only a moment or two after I got there,

and he invited me in.

As soon as I got inside, I saw the tiara.

I demanded to know what was going on.

Where was the copy? What had he gotten me into?

But then there was a knock at the door,

and I... I panicked. I grabbed the tiara,

and I ducked into the bedroom.

It was that TV news reporter. I recognized him immediately.

He wanted to come in, but Laszlo got rid of him.

All I wanted to do was to get out of there,

but he grabbed me.

He wouldn't let me go. He was in a rage.

He hit me. I was terrified for my life.

I grabbed the knife...

I didn't...

I didn't mean to kill him.

I just wanted to return the tiara.

But then when he was dead...

I knew no one would believe my story.

Andrea, I think I'd better get you a lawyer.

You don't mind, do you?

No, Sir. I, uh...

I think that would be a good idea.

Ah, poor kid. I feel sorry for her.

Well, don't feel too sorry, Hudson.

After all, she did try to frame an innocent man.

Yeah, I suppose you're right.

Hudson, about the copy of the tiara.

You don't have any, uh, real use for it, do you?

- No. - Laszlo did pay for the gems that he used.

Do you want it for a souvenir, Jessica?

- Of course. - Oh, no.

No, not for me.

I know someone who I think would appreciate it

a great deal more than I would.