All language subtitles for MrSWr5E21.Mirror.Mirror.on.the.Wall.(1).

I’m being outflanked, outwritten

by an English teacher from Maine.

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

What is this? The death capital of Maine?

Since she married Hank Shipton, her work has been mediocre.

You're not gonna get drunk.

That a question or a statement?

I went out in search of alternative companionship.

Was it a cash transaction?

Seth, are you trying to hurt me?

For pity's sake, woman. That's the last thing I want to do.

You really are a very special lady.

I'm gonna have to find some way to repay you for your kindness.

Oh!

Shoot. Well, now.

I do believe I've found me a wide-open door.

Table's got a bad lean. I'll keep it in mind, Bobby. 12 in the corner.

The old eight-ball in the side pocket.

Sorry, Bobby.

Uh, let's go again. Double or nothing. Hmm?

Come on. You're down 500. It's just not your day.

What? What do you mean? You think I'm not good for it?

Oh, hey. Did I say that?

Hey, you rummies. What do you say?

Oh, my. Now, don't we look righteously uptown, huh?

What'd you do? Go to a funeral or something, Hank?

No. Lunch with some newspaper writer.

A funeral would've been more fun.

So, uh, how we doing, son?

Not so good, Pop. 500 down.

Yeah? Which one of you clowns been hustling my boy here?

Uh, hey, it was his idea, Hank.

Well, uh, the Cannonball Express...

has just come screeching to a halt, boys.

Now I'm giving the party, starting with you, Gadge.

- Want to shoot the whole 500? - You call it.

500, eight-ball.

I'll even give you the break. Hey, Hank. Hank. Look.

I just got me a copy of one of your wife's books. Good stuff, man.

Yeah. That's a real old one, Willie.

An oldie but a goodie.

- Yeah, not like her new ones, but... - Knock it off, Bobby.

- All I'm saying was... - I said, "knock it off."

This is difficult, Eudora. Most difficult.

In the mystery field you've been on top for nearly two decades.

You're right up there... and, uh, rightly so...

with Agatha Christie, Dorothy Sayers, P.D. James.

But...

There comes a time when the...

Well, when the palette runs dry,

the colors fade away.

Look, Lew, if this is about rewrites,

we have no problem with that.

Rewrites aren't gonna help this manuscript, Liza.

Mr. Bracken, may I remind you...

that for the past 22 years...

I've been America's undisputed premiere female mystery writer.

Nobody questions that, Eudora,

but times change, people change, tastes change.

And we all have to change with them.

- Meaning what exactly? - Meaning...

that your works have become repetitive and tired.

You're writing as if we're still in the 60's.

According to whom? The critics?

That simpering cadre of barnacles,

ticks and other parasites.

Euroda, I have a great idea.

Why don't you take a year off? Recharge your batteries.

Why don't you and Hank move up to that little cottage

in Nantucket that you rented last summer.

I have no intention of vegetating on some sand dune.

Lewis, you need my new book for your Christmas catalog.

I'll survive.

Wait a minute. I get it.

You're about to sign J.B. Fletcher.

What?

That rumor's been on the street for about a week.

We're talking. But nothing's settled, Liza.

J.B. Fletcher.

Lewis, how could you do this to me?

Eudora, this is strictly business.

There's nothing personal about it.

Mrs. Fletcher's last six books are best sellers.

She's about to be named Mystery Writer of the Year.

I'm sorry.

Dear old friend,

you are a paragon of fidelity.

I wish you and Mrs. Flectcher both exactly what you deserve:

each other.

Eudora.

I can't believe it.

The money that woman has made for you.

Can't be helped.

I've never gotten anywhere being subtle, Liza.

Since she married Hank Shipton, her work has been mediocre.

What are you saying? That marrying Hank was a lousy idea?

Tell me something I don't know.

Eudora. Eudora.

- We have to talk. - About what?

I thought Mr. Bracken said it all quite concisely.

Lew Bracken's a pompous, tasteless jerk

with a comic book mentality.

Oh? So that's why he's been publishing my books all these years.

There are plenty of other publishers, Liza.

Darling, you don't seem to understand.

Lew Bracken is not the source of my problems.

I'm being outflanked, outwritten

by an English teacher from Maine.

Somehow, when I wasn't looking, they coronated a new queen of mystery.

- You are blowing this out of proportion. - Oh, am I?

Let's face it darling. I'm passé.

Eudora McVeigh... Is she still alive?

- Now you are exaggerating. - Oh, for pity's sake,

my career is in tatters.

My marriage is hanging by a thread,

and who do I have to thank for this?

Dear, lovable, sweet-as-apple-pie Jessica Fletcher,

who's just bounced me from fifth row center

back to the last row in the balcony.

You can't blame her personally.

You'd be surprised at what I can do, Liza.

And what I will do to get back on top.

Hey, Dorie.

Dorie, how are you, darlin'?

- There's a warm hello. - Where have you been, Hank?

Been? I've been out.

Where?

What do you want, an itinerary?

There's no need to be snide.

I do have a right to ask. I am your wife.

Yeah, but not my keeper. Or maybe you are, and I forgot to notice.

That's fine stuff.

Very fine. By the way, darling,

I paid for this booze out of my Navy pension check,

in case you're wondering.

You're not gonna get drunk.

That a question or a statement? Look, Dorie...

Before lunch, I spent an hour with your business manager...

going over your investment portfolio, as you requested.

During lunch, I said all the right things...

to that bird-brained columnist from Los Angeles again, as you requested.

See how full my life is?

Then, afterwards,

I spent a little time with some of my friends.

Shooting pool or watching the races?

Come on. What are we fightin' about?

What do you say to a... a little dinner, just you and me?

What about Bobby? Maybe your son would like to join us.

- When are you gonna get off his back? - When he gets out of my purse.

I had a bill today for a VCR.

He charged it to my account.

Almost $400.

- He shouldn't have done that. - He shouldn't have done a lot of things.

Oh, Hank, I married you, not your family.

I told you. The boy never had me around... growing up.

- I owe him a lot of years. - Well, I don't owe him a thing.

I've had enough.

What, are you telling me I gotta make a choice?

Don't you walk away from me. Where are you going?

Where I should've gone months ago,

but I was concerned about the... the sanctity of this lousy marriage.

That fish weighed 40 pounds if she weighed an ounce.

- Oh, Seth. - At least 28 inches, stem to stern.

I would swear my life on it. Well, Caleb, you saw it. What do you think?

I didn't get that close a look, Doc. And another thing...

Can I take those from you? Thank you, Caleb.

You ought to do something about this rotten tackle of yours.

If my line hadn't busted, I'd have made the catch of the day.

- Well, better luck next time, Doc. - Yeah.

- Thank you, Caleb. Great day. - It was the bait.

- The bait? What? - The bait, woman.

Your bait was better than mine.

We got it out of the same bucket.

Well, you just made it seem that way.

Well, putting aside my shortcomings as an angler for the moment,

the day was not exactly a total loss.

At least we made you laugh.

And if I'm not mistaken, you have a bit of color in your face.

Well, what's the matter with my face?

There's nothing wrong with it at all,

except it hasn't seen the light of day for about six weeks now.

Yeah, well, I've been working on my book.

Yes. You have been working on your book.

You're always working on a book, Jessica.

I wonder sometimes how you can tell them apart.

Honestly, Seth,

I want to know what you meant by that remark.

No, you don't, Jess.

If I thought you did, I’d tell ya. But since I know you don't,

best I don't, rather than be sorry I did.

Oh, sure. That makes perfect sense.

A... Yeah.

Hello. Oh. Yes. Hello, Mr. Bracken.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher. I was worried about you.

I’ve been trying to reach you all day.

Well, uh, my doctor prescribed a day of fishing,

and I was too tired to argue with him.

Good. I hope you're too tired to argue with me.

I’ve got these contracts right here on my desk.

Oh, no. Uh, let's not talk about that now.

My plane is gassed up at La Guardia and ready to go.

I could be at your doorstep in two hours.

Please, Mr. Bracken. When I make up my mind, I'll be in touch. I promise.

Could you give me some idea of what the book is about?

Not even a hint. I'm sorry.

Of course. One way or the other.

Good. Good-bye.

Persistent fella. And stubborn.

Like some other people that I know.

You must have made this last night.

Well, I'll be seeing you, Jess.

Oh, no. Seth Hazlitt. You're not going to leave...

until you tell me exactly what you meant by that crack at the harbor.

- That was a stupid remark. Let's drop it. - No. Let's not. Let's not.

Jessica, what you do with your life is absolutely none of my business.

- I tend to forget that. - And a good thing too.

Do you realize that if I didn't have you to keep me on an even keel, then who?

Out with it!

All right.

Do you recall last month I asked you to go hiking with me up to Spooner's Mill?

Yes. And I wanted to go. You know that.

Except you had that article you wanted to finish.

And a couple of months before that,

it was the fishing trip to Rockford,

except you couldn't find any time for that either.

Well, I had this terribly important...

- uh, meeting with my accountant. - I’m sure it was very important. I am.

You know, Jess, I have arrived at an age where... well, I expect we both have...

Where I don't think we ought to have to rev the engine as hard as we used to.

Well, are... Are you saying that I'm working too hard?

I’m saying that's all you seem to have time for these days.

Have you looked at your garden lately?

The weeds are threatening to carry off the rhododendrons.

Well, I... I've got a lot of obligations.

To whom, Jess?

Now, a few years back,

you needed this writing to help you

get through the empty days and lonely nights.

I know that. I went through it myself.

But Frank's a long time gone now, just like my Ruth.

And another best seller,

or 10 best sellers, is not going to fill that void.

Seth, I know that.

Maybe yes and maybe no.

All I know is that if Frank Fletcher were still around...

you wouldn't be spending

half your life chained to that typewriter

and the other half chasing around the country. No, Sir.

You'd be out smelling the salt air at sunrise.

- Seth, are you trying to hurt me? - Hurt you?

Oh, for pity's sake, woman.

That's the last thing I want to do.

I just think that maybe you ought to get off the treadmill

while you still have a chance.

Now, that's my piece, and I don't want to talk about it anymore at this time,

so I will...

chat with you later.

Oh. Jessica, thank God.

- Eudora? - I do not believe I finally found you.

Honestly, Jessica. Are you hiding from the law,

or do you merely harbor a deep-seated ill will towards the civilized world?

Well, there are a few of us who think that this is the civilized world.

No doubt, though frankly I feel like I've wandered

onto the set of a Walt Disney movie.

Well, do you invite me in,

or do I spend the rest of the day inhaling the fragrance of the outgoing tide?

Forgive me. I'm so sorry.

You really are the last person that I expected to see.

Oh, don't be silly. Two years ago, when we met at the convention,

you said, "drop by anytime."

Well, here I am, dropping.

I’m delighted.

- We’ll put the teakettle on. - Yeah. Oh, oh. Nearly forgot.

Mother said never come calling with your hands at your side.

I found these at this delightful little produce stand

just off the interstate.

Isn't that the most magnificent thing you've ever seen?

My God, they must feed them steroids or something.

- You do like apples? - Oh, yes, yes.

Of course. Thank you. Wonderful. Wonderful.

Thank you very much. Now, Jessica,

I do appreciate your offer of liquid refreshments,

but what's this about a kettle?

I mean... quaint is all right up to a point,

- but let's not get carried away. - Right.

Dorie.

Dorie, it's me.

- Hey, Pop. - What are you doing here, Bobby?

Got hungry.

Ran out of here last night without taking my insulin shot.

About an hour ago, I thought I was gonna pass out.

I sure wish you could take this stuff orally.

What's that you're eating? It smells like month-old pastrami.

It’s swiss cheese and liverwurst. Want a bite?

No, thanks. I already had something decent.

You got a stomach like a septic tank. You know that?

So, where's Eudora?

Wouldn't know. Wherever she is, she took her car.

I parked in her spot.

She took her car? She never takes her car unless she's leaving town.

Pop. Got any dough on you?

- Need a couple of hundred. - For what?

Me and Vinnie. We're going out to the trotters.

- Get serious. - Oh, come on, Pop! He's got a tip.

And I only got about 20 bucks.

Yeah, Ray. Uh, it's Hank.

I understand Mrs. Shipton went out.

Know what time that was?

Uh, you have any idea where she was going?

Yeah?

She wanted a map of Maine, huh?

Yeah, well, thanks a lot, Ray.

So, what do you say, Pop? Couple of hundred, that's all.

Pop?

Forget it. We're taking a ride.

- Now? - Yeah, now.

Before your stepmom does something real dumb.

Here. Bring my car around front while I pack my things.

So, after 20 years of marriage...

to bloodless, sexless and "oh, so proper" Schuyler McVeigh, divorce.

I figured anything would be better, which is why I ended up up with Hank.

I remember meeting him at the convention. He was a lot of fun.

That's Hank, all right. A laugh a minute.

Of course I didn't know when I married him I'd end up with a package deal.

- His son, Bobby. - Mmm.

Why am I complaining? The man swept me off my feet, and I loved him.

Maybe I still do.

Well, I'd better go

if I'm going to find someplace to stay tonight.

You're not going back to New York?

I want to soak up some of this down east atmosphere.

If it's good enough for J.B. Fletcher,

it's good enough for me.

I tried your local hotel, The Hill House, but they were all booked up.

I suppose I'll just have to find something on the road back to Portland.

Don't be silly. You're going to stay right here with me.

- Oh, no, I couldn't. - I insist on it.

Not another word.

I mean, don't you realize what a joy it is for me

to chat with a fellow writer under my own roof?

Well, in that case,

I think we should have one more...

- cup of coffee before we turn in. - Why not?

You know, Jessica,

you really are a very special lady.

I’m gonna have to find some way to repay you for your kindness.

Oh, nonsense.

Just call it a little more of that down east hospitality.

Oh. All this caffeine. I'm going to be awake all night.

No, no, no. I'm sure you'll sleep like the dead.

Eudora? Good morning.

Oh, good morning.

I couldn't sleep, and I was starved. I hope you don't mind.

- Not at all. - How do you like your eggs?

Oh, over easy, please. I'm just gonna get the morning paper.

Jessica, if I woke you, I do apologize.

Oh, no, no, no, no. I’m always up at this hour.

I can't believe how soundly I slept last night.

Was dead to the world the minute my head hit the pillow.

Didn't I tell you you must be working too hard?

I’m only sorry that you had to go out.

Out?

What ever do you mean? I haven't been anywhere.

Oh? Oh, I just thought... I mean, uh...

Well, your car is parked in a different place

than it was when we went to bed last night.

Oh, you must be mistaken.

No, I don't think so.

Well, now... Here we are. Two eggs over easy.

- Couple of nice pieces of toast. - Lovely.

- Would you like some bacon? - Uh, no. No, thanks.

Well, now, when you're all done,

I want to see this town of yours, Jessica.

Every little street. You see? I'm even wearing my walking shoes.

Oh, yes.

That's odd... A visitor at this hour of the morning.

Excuse me.

- Yes? - Jessica?

- Hank Shipton. - Hank. Hello. Come on inside.

Kind of early to be barging in,

but I saw Eudora's car parked outside and...

Hank, what are you doing here? You followed me.

I’ve come to bring you home, Dorie.

Well, I'm not coming home. I’m here visiting Jessica,

so why don't you just scoot back to New York?

Honey, it's not a good idea, you being here like this.

Now come on. We've got some talking to do.

Stay away from me, Hank.

What we have, or maybe had, is hanging by a thread,

so, please, walk out that door...

before one of us says something we won't be able to take back.

- Jessica, are you OK? - Yes, of course. Why wouldn't I be?

Well, it's just that Dorie's been...

kind of high-strung lately, losing her temper, acting crazy.

Well, she seems fine to me.

Well, guess I better get going.

Hank, I'm sorry. Really.

Uh, maybe if you came back later.

No. It wouldn't do much good, Jess.

When she's like that, there's no living with her.

Say, listen. You remember my son Bobby, don't you?

Hey, Bobby! Say hi to Jessica.

Oh, yes. I think we met at the convention.

- Uh, he's a horse trainer or something. - Horse player.

Yeah, there's a big difference.

Uh, say, listen, me and Bobby...

we're staying up at the the Hill House

if you want to get ahold of me.

At the Hill House? Oh, that's odd.

Uh, Eudora said that it was booked solid,

that... she couldn't get a room last night.

Yeah, they said some practical joker

phoned in a dozen phony reservations a couple days ago.

But when we pulled in last night around 2:00, there was plenty of room.

- Well, I'll be talking with you, Jess. - Yes.

I just love this little town of yours, Jessica.

It’s so homey.

- How can you stand it? - Well, having lived here for 30 years,

- I guess I've gotten used to it. - Oh, 30 years.

Good Lord. Three days in this Toonersville

and I'd be stark staring mad.

Believe it or not, Eudora, we have a perfectly good public library in town

and we do have access to major newspapers, magazines,

clean streets, fresh air,

friendly people, once they get to know you...

but most of all, safe neighborhoods.

I mean, you can walk anywhere without feeling afraid.

Mrs. Fletcher! Mrs. Fletcher!

Calm down, Johnny. What is it?

It's a dead body, ma'am. Down on the rocks.

Mr. Purdy sent me to get the sheriff.

I wouldn't look down there, ladies.

It's not a pretty sight.

I'm proud to have you here in Cabot Cove, Mrs. McVeigh.

Uh, Jessica, could you move in just a bit?

A nice smile now.

Oh, Jonathan. Smile? A man has just been killed here.

Say "cheese."

So, Doc, what do you think killed him? Slip and fall or what?

I wouldn't think so. That wound at the head wasn't caused by a fall.

Besides, there wasn't enough blood.

No, I expect he was killed somewhere else and then dumped off here.

How long would you say he's been dead?

Oh, probably about five hours, maybe less.

- Did you ever see him before? - A stranger to me.

Yeah. Me too.

Excuse me, Doc.

Mrs. Fletcher, could I see you for a minute?

Well, didn't waste any time sending out an S.O.S.

Even Amos Tupper would have made a pretense of knowing what he was doing.

Run that by me again.

Sheriff Metzger. Nice enough fella, I suppose,

considering he's a city boy.

But, like as not,

it'll be Jessica that solves the murder,

like she always does. Is that right?

Well, guess I better get this developed.

Might be able to get it on Channel 8 in Portland.

I’m the local contact hereabouts.

Be seeing you.

I said, "Do me a favor, please,

and tell me what goes on in this town."

- Sheriff, I’m sorry. - Five murders in my first year!

What is this? The death capital of Maine?

On a per capita basis, this place makes the Bronx look like Sunnybrook Farm.

But I assure you, Sheriff...

Is that why Tupper quit? He couldn't take it anymore?

Somebody really should've warned me, Mrs. Fletcher.

Now perfect strangers are coming to Cabot Cove to die.

Look at this guy. You don't know him.

I don't know him. He has no I.D.

- We don't know the first thing about him. - Of course you do,

if you just take the time to observe.

- Ma’am? - Forgive me, Sheriff.

This is Eudora McVeigh.

- She's a very well-known mystery novelist. - How do you do?

Well, now, Sheriff, I'm sure you're a terribly capable officer of the Law,

and I'd be the last one to interfere with your investigation,

but before you arrived, I took the liberty of examining the body,

and I'm sure you noticed the label in the jacket.

An off-the-rack clothing store in New York City.

Lady, there must be 10,000 suits like that in New York.

Owned by men who wear a $3,000 watch on their wrist?

This is definitely not a knockoff, Sheriff.

Which means he may have stolen it...

possibly at the point of a gun.

A gun? Hold it. Wait. Where did you get that?

Well, that stain.

It appears to be gun oil, which says to me...

he kept a pistol tucked in here...

- in a shoulder holster. - Mrs. Fletcher.

Jessica, I hope you don't mind my helping out like this.

Oh, of course not. My goodness.

If I'm stepping on your toes, just say so.

Eudora, don't be silly.

Uh, I think you've made some very perceptive observations.

Yes. Well, now,

as to why the victim didn't pull his gun,

which is missing, along with the shoulder holster,

- it has to do with his missing glasses. - Glasses?

Yes, he has those little print marks on the bridge of his nose.

- I'm sure you noticed them. - Oh, yeah.

The glasses must've fallen when he was killed,

which, by the way, didn't happen here.

The body was definitely moved, or there would've been a lot more blood.

Seth.

Howdy, Jess.

Looks like the sheriff has his hands full with that friend of yours.

Forget Metzger. You and I need to have a little talk.

Oh, now, Jess... About yesterday, I...

I said some things I probably shouldn't have. I'm sorry,

and I'd like to forget the whole incident.

No, you don't, Seth Hazlitt. I’ve had some time to think.

And I can't argue with a few of the things that you said.

- A few? - Well, a lot of them, I suppose.

You suppose quite right.

Just because I'm an opinionated, self-righteous, Yankee chauvinist...

does not necessarily mean that I'm always wrong.

Not all of the time. How about dinner tonight?

- Your place or mine? - Mine.

- What's on the menu? - Pot roast.

Good. I'll bring the dessert.

- Rhubarb pie? - Have I ever brought anything else?

- See you around 7:00. - Right.

Hello?

Oh, hi, Carol. Have you found Eudora?

I don't get it. Where the hell is she?

Listen. Were you able to postpone

that interview with People Magazine?

Oh, they did? W... You just tell them from me that...

Never mind. I’ll tell them myself.

Liza.

Just call me as soon as you hear anything.

My goodness. I see we slept in this morning.

Back in Kansas, isn't that considered a mortal sin?

I didn't get to bed until very late.

Where were you, Victor?

Your business dinner couldn't have lasted for 15 hours.

Unless, of course, your appetite has improved.

As a matter of fact, I arrived home early last evening, shortly after 10:00.

Naturally, I was surprised to find you weren't here,

and rather than wait around like a jealous husband to listen

to your patently transparent explanations,

I went out in search of alternative companionship,

which, I am happy to report, I found.

Well, terrific. Was it a cash transaction?

Of course, darling. As my wife,

you're the one entitled to subtler forms of compensation for services rendered.

Oh, yes.

There's a little of the farm girl

still hiding under all that glitz.

You'd better answer that, darling.

I’m sure it's personal for you.

I’d get it myself, but I've really come to hate those abrupt hang ups.

Whoever he is,

he isn't very imaginative.

Hello.

What? W... What channel?

All right. Thanks, Carol.

While in this peaceful little coastal village

of Cabot Cove, Maine,

the citizens have been visited by murder most foul.

But never fear.

Two of fiction's most intrepid sleuths

just happen to be on the scene.

Can a solution to this knotty puzzle be far behind...

when Jessica Fletcher and Eudora McVeigh sink their teeth...

- Oh, no. - What's the matter?

I can't believe she went there.

Victor, I'm sorry. I have to leave.

- And we have to talk. - Not now, Victor.

Liza.

And, Oh, Yes. That's right. As of the moment,

Cabot Cove's newest corpse is a John Doe,

a stranger with no identification.

Though we understand he is reported to be

a six-foot tall, balding New-Yorker

in his 40's, who probably wore thick glasses and carried a gun.

When asked how the case was going,

Sheriff Metzger said he had no comment,

or words to that effect.

Eudora, you're not leaving.

A good guest never overstays her welcome.

- Oh, nonsense. - Jessica,

- I do hope you're not put out with me. - About what?

Why, helping your sheriff, of course.

I realize this is your town and I'm just an outsider.

Oh, don't be ridiculous.

We're not competing with each other.

No. Of course not.

Well, I must be off.

Frankly, Eudora, I wasn't expecting you to run off quite so quickly,

and I was hoping I'd be able to ask you a couple questions about, uh...

About last night, and, uh, also about your car, for instance.

Jessica, I would love to stay and chat,

but I simply must get over to your local newspaper office.

Oh? My publicist has arranged for me...

to meet some reporters from the Boston papers.

They're very interested in my, uh,

well, quasi-official participation in this murder investigation.

You understand?

Oh, yes. Of course. Well, let me help you with your things.

No. I can manage, thank you.

Well, let me get the door.

You've been lovely, Jessica.

I do hope we see more of each other in the future.

And we may, perhaps sooner than you think.

Eudora, I do really think that we should talk about

what you have in your attaché case.

Why? Just some silly story notes, that's all.

- Ladies. - Good afternoon, Sheriff.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Uh, you're planning on leaving, Mrs. McVeigh?

Oh, I’m sorry. That's actually Mrs. Shipton, isn't it?

Either one will do, Sheriff.

I plan to stay a day or two at The Hill House until I, uh...

that is, we get to the bottom of this murder.

Well, say, that's real nice of you, ma'am. Sure is.

Sheriff, do I get the feeling that you've discovered something?

Yes, ma'am. We sure have. We've identified that John Doe.

The body was moved.

A couple of hikers found the guy's car:

pushed down off a bluff, a few miles from the coast.

Just as I suspected.

- And what about the gun? - Missing, along with the shoulder holster.

But he wore one, all right.

We found the permit in the guy's wallet,

- it had been tossed into the underbrush. - A permit?

The victim was a New York private investigator,

name of Cappaletti.

P.I., criminal... Almost the same thing.

But here's the funny thing.

Know what else we found in that wallet, Mrs. Shipton?

A piece of paper with your name and address on it,

and your phone number. Strange, huh?

All of a sudden it's gettin' real clear to me...

how come you knew so much about this stiff.

Lady, you've got some explaining to do.

Sheriff Metzger, no doubt there are rigid qualifications...

for your position here in Cabot Cove,

but obviously intelligence isn't one of them.

Now look, lady, you can insult me from now until next Groundhog's Day,

but I'm not buyin' your story.

Like you just happened to know the guy was from New York,

and you just happened to know he carried a gun.

- How long had he been working for you? - He hadn't.

Yeah? Well, we'll see. Floyd.

Try Cappaletti's office number again in New York.

You know, Sheriff, Mrs. McVeigh

didn't spot any clues that weren't fairly obvious.

Well, thank you, Jessica.

How sweet of you to make that observation.

And as for the victim working for her,

I mean, have you considered the possibility

that he might've had her under surveillance,

that he might've followed her here to Cabot Cove?

You mean he could've been working for somebody else?

- Eudora? - Well, don't be silly.

Why would anyone be following me?

Sheriff, there's still no answer at that New York number.

Sheriff, you're wasting my time and yours.

Even if I knew this detective, which I didn't,

there's no way I could be involved with his death

because I was staying with Jessica,

asleep in her house, at the time he died.

- So if you'll excuse me. - Now wait a minute, lady!

Unless you plan to place me under arrest,

in which case I shall summon a battery

of very high-priced lawyers, from New York,

who will be delighted to bury you in enough writs to start a big bonfire...

Ah. Good.

If you need me, I'll be at the newspaper office.

Whether you like it or not, I’ll solve this murder for you.

No, no, no, no. No need to thank me.

Just think of me as a concerned citizen performing her civic duty.

Excuse me.

Sheriff's office. Sheriff, it's your wife.

Tell her, uh... Tell her, uh...

Hi, honey. Listen. I'm gonna be a little late for supper tonight.

I’m sorry, Eudora. I’m not mistaken.

Your car was moved during the night,

and I'm fairly certain that you moved it.

Oh, you're imagining things.

I certainly didn't imagine the dreadful headache I had this morning.

Last night you put a sedative in my coffee

so that I would sleep very soundly.

- That's a monstrous suggestion. - Eudora,

earlier today, I had to look at some notes for my new novel.

Now, some of the pages were out of order.

Oh, I see. Now you're accusing me of stealing from you.

I’m sorry, Jessica. I won't dignify that with a response. Excuse me.

Perhaps I'd better let the sheriff inspect your attaché case.

For a supposedly intelligent woman, Jessica,

you are woefully ignorant of our privacy laws,

which I'm sure even extend to this outpost of civilization.

There is one tough cookie.

And one very unhappy lady.

Yeah, well, you vote your way, I’ll vote mine.

Well, you seem to be making good progress on your investigation.

You've identified the victim and pinpointed the murder site.

Well, I'm not sure I'd make book on that.

Some of the pieces of the puzzle don't fit real good.

For example, the backseat of the guy's car was covered with bloodstains,

and the steering wheel had been wiped clean of prints.

Oh, dear. That sounds as if he was killed at point "A,"

his body put in the back of the car

and then dumped by the ocean,

and then the car driven into the woods by the killer and abandoned.

Yeah. That's the way I read it. But why?

Well, obviously to cover up where he was killed.

Sheriff, that wallet in the bush,

did it it have any cash in it?

Cleaned out. Why? What do you think? Robbery?

Well, to be truthful, I just don't know what to think.

Except that I do have some shopping to do.

Can I give you a lift?

Oh, no, thanks. No. The walk'll do me good.

Okay.

Uh, hello, Hank.

Liza.

Is Eudora here?

Uh, no.

Good.

Are you crazy, following me here?

Oh, I didn't follow you here, Hank.

I saw Eudora on the the news, here in Cabot Cove.

- I... I was terrified that she'd... - Do something insane?

No, I can't believe that.

- Well, then what are you doing here? - The same thing I am.

Hank. You know what she's been like lately. She's ready to snap.

And we're not helping her, are we?

Look, I... I feel guilty enough already,

but damn it, we're not the only ones responsible.

I am not going to apologize for what happened between us, Hank.

Maybe we're on a dead-end road. I... I don't know.

But I just think we have to hang onto each other for as long as we can.

And Eudora?

Eudora needs professional help. We both know that.

What am I supposed to do?

She won't admit she has a problem.

She won't see a doctor.

Then one of us has to speak to J.B. Fletcher.

And do what? Warn her?

That's what Bobby said. He think's Eudora's capable of anything,

that she's starting to mix fantasy with reality.

Oh, he might be right, Hank.

It is possible that Eudora has spent so much time writing about murder

she actually thinks it's a solution to her problems.

Let me see if I can get Jessica to meet with me, away from Eudora.

Jess?

Jess?

Hello?

Mmm.

Seth! Are you here?

Oh, my God. Seth!