All language subtitles for Murder.She.Wrote.S02E14.Keep.the.Home.Fries.Burning.WEBRip.x264-ION10

-Is there a doctor here?
-I'm a doctor. What's wrong?

Doctor, my son is terribly sick.
Come quickly.

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

What did you put in that food?

It was murder.

I may be a lousy cook
but I never killed anybody.

My job is bad food, not murder.

Why don't you just stick us with a needle
and get it over with?

You walk out on me
to work in this kind of a tourist trap.

This state

should have sheriff IQ tests.

Of course! Excuse me. Pardon me.

She really shouldn't spend so much time
in this town.

[cheerful orchestral music]

Sheriff.

Bo. Nice seeing you.

Where have you been?

I haven't seen you for breakfast anymore.

Where are you on your way to
in such a hurry?

Joshua Peabody Inn up by the interstate.

You too?

Now, what's that place got
that Dixon's Diner ain't got?

History.

Be seeing you, Bo.

History.

-Breakfast time.
-[Jessica] But I've had breakfast.

Ha. I know what you had--

Dry toast and a cup of tea.

That's mere food.

This is an experience.

Seth, I have got work to do.

Well, you can write about this.

It's not your basic
fast-food shed, you know.

Well, let me put it to you another way:

this is Amos Tupper's
favorite dining place.

Oh, dear. [chuckling]

-Dupree!
-Ow!

Where is that ham and eggs for five?

Oh, terrific!

Now we can serve ham and eggs
a la Transylvania.

That's not too bad.

Put a bandage on it
and take the rest of the morning off.

Oh, yes, yes, take the morning off,
the afternoon.

Why not the whole week?

One less cook to spoil the pot.

Is it my fault that you
can't cook a decent breakfast?

You call this a decent breakfast,

a bowl of sugar cracklies?

We give the folks what they want.

Oh! What the hell are you doing with that?

You said you wanted me to cook.

Cinnamon on a cheese omelet?
What'll it be next, rat poison?

If you don't like it, fire me.

Now, why on earth would you want
to stop at this place?

Oh, lighten up, Willy.

We can't wait till Boston
to use the ladies'.

Well, the plumbing's bound
to be better than the food.

Now, why do you think that?

I don't know
if I like the looks of this one either.

Look, sweetheart, we're running late.

It's either this place
or that diner we passed back in town.

Well, Hawthorne.

-I didn't think you'd show up.
-Why not, Ebeneezer?

First you promised to support my bill...

Then you engineer its defeat,

then you make me the laughing stock
of the town council!

Why did you show up?

Well, a man's gotta eat, doesn't he?

After you, Ebeneezer.

Didn't know so many folks
ate breakfast out in Cabot Cove.

Most of them seem to have been
tempted in from the highway.

Yeah.

Those ladies over there

certainly aren't from around here,

not in those ensembles.

That's Italian suede.

What's the matter with that?

Oh, absolutely nothing.

The One-if-by-Land, Two-if-by-Sea

surf and turf platter?

[laughing] Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait.

Here is my favorite.

The Benjamin Franklin-furter with beans.

Hi, miladies, I'm your
serving girl this morning.

May I take your order?

Well, uh, the, uh, eggs
Benedict Arnold sound good.

Would you like that
with popovers or corn muffins?

Oh, I really shouldn't.

We have homemade marmalade
and strawberry preserves.

I'll take both. And don't you say a word.

I would like something light.

Give me the Life, Liberty,
and Prosciutto Happiness

with melon.

Thank you.

Mind if I join you, Ms. Fletcher, Doc?

Oh, not at all, Amos. Sit down.

Plenty of room. Belly up.

Yeah, Floyd's kind of short on tables.

Thanks to good customers
like Sheriff Tupper.

Yeah, old Joshua Peabody'd
be mighty proud of this.

Amos, as I have repeatedly told you,

there isn't any Joshua Peabody.

He's just a local legend.

What are you talking about?

His picture's all over the place!

Uh, what's the ETA on my wife's toast?

Uh, ETA, Sir?

-Estimated time of arrival.
-Oh.

Where is the toast?

Have you looked in the toaster?

Look, Dupree, if you think
you can get me sore enough

to let you out of the contract,
it won't work.

No?

My goodness, Cornelia.

I didn't know you'd left Dixon's Diner.

All my customers started coming here,

so I thought I might as well join them.

At least in the diner,

you didn't have to dress up as Betsy Ross.

Doctors who make their rounds in hip boots

hardly qualify as fashion experts.

[laughing]

Could you bring us the check?

I'll be right back.

We'll miss the ETA in Boston.

Will you relax?

This is supposed to be a vacation.

What I wouldn't give
to be back in the office.

Guess what? They don't have bathrooms.

They have Adams rooms.

You get a choice: the John or the Abigail.

[laughing]

Well, well, Benedict Arnold.

With popovers or corn muffins?

No, no, I didn't mean that.

I meant you, traitor.

You walk out on me to work in
this kind of a tourist trap?

I've got to go where the tips are.

Oh.

Would you like to order now?

Cornelia, would you just
bring me a hamburger, please?

-Bangor burger or Salem steak?
-I don't care what you call it!

Just bring it so I can find out
what's so damn special

about this place.

Floyd sure gives you enough to eat.

Good prices too.

I don't know how he does it.

Excuse me.
You finished with the preserves?

Oh, oh, go ahead.
I'm watching my weight anyway.

Thank you.

Aren't you going to have
any strawberry preserves, Amos?

Strawberries give me a rash.

Watching your weight
might not be such a bad idea.

Oh, do you mind, Doc?
I'd like to enjoy my breakfast.

-Are you through with this?
-Oh, uh, take it away, please.

You're never going to
get away with this, Hawthorne!

You know what I've got at stake here.

-Oh, shh!
-Don't you--

Don't you shush me, Mercer Hawthorne!

All right then.

I'll tell everybody here you're a crook!

You know, you are getting
awfully close to libel.

Libel's when you can't prove it.

I can.

You want to talk about kickbacks?

Something I can do for you, friend?

Oh, well...

I, uh--I think Mr. Dixon

just wants to see
what a real kitchen looks like.

Right, Bo?

I, uh-- I smell something burning.

Hmm?
[sizzling]

Oh, you are trying
to put me out of business.

Oh!

You, uh, need any help?

Yes; help yourself out of my kitchen.

-Are you finished with this?
-Yes.

Waitress, may I have the check?

I can't let you do that, Jess.
This was my idea.

No, no, I insist.

You might have won at chess last night

if you hadn't had to leave
to deliver Mrs. Olson's baby.

That is a dead-bang certainty,

but it's got nothing to do
with this check.

Say, is Amos's feast on there?

Mine's on the house.

Well, bein' the sheriff and all,
it's customary.

-Ready?
-Stuffed.

Oh, and this is what you serve
instead of mustard and relish?

It's been a busy morning.

And that's supposed
to make me feel better?

Mustard, relish, Cornelia. Go, go, go.

Oh, ma'am? You forgot to sign this.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Thank you.

Now, will that be cash?

-Yes.
-You do accept it, don't you?

Betty, I want to leave
that nice waitress a tip.

I'll meet you at the car.

-Is there a doctor here?
-What? What'd he say?

I'm a doctor. What's wrong?

Doctor, my son is terribly sick!

Come quick!

[gasps]

Are you feeling all right?

I'm not sure. I think so.

He's feverish, and his pupils are dilated.

Hey, Doc? Hey, Doc!

-Doc!
-Yes!

He suddenly fell.

-It's the same symptoms.
-Hey, Doc!

Yes!

What's going on?

Get everybody out. Get everybody out!

Don't touch anything. Don't move anything.

Don't clean anything.
Just close it up right now!

-Seth, what is it?
-I don't know.

We've got to get these people
to a county hospital

and then notify
the state health department.

I've never seen anything like it.

What did you put in that food?

[woman crying]

She's dead.

[crying continues]

[siren wailing]

Wait. Excuse me, who?

Mercer, don't be concerned.

I know everything is going
to be all right.

I'll be by to check you later.

Margo Perry, state health.

Ah, yes, go ahead.

Well, you certainly got here quickly.

Chopper.

Is there someplace quiet
where you can fill us in?

-Us?
-The state.

What about that office?

Look, I do have some patients
to attend to, Miss Perry.

-And it seems to me--
-It's "Mrs.," doctor.

And you can tend
to them best by getting me

as quickly to work as possible.

Oh, all--All right.

Jessica, Amos,
would you, uh, come with me?

You must be the sheriff.

That's right, ma'am. Amos Tupper.

-And you are?
-Jessica Fletcher.

-Doctor?
-Uh, no, writer.

Good; we're gonna need the media's help.

Well, I'm a mystery writer, I'm afraid.

Purpose?

Ms. Fletcher was in the restaurant.

She's the most observant person I know.

Well, what are we waiting for?

-The door?
-Oh.

I'm running the usual tests.

The symptoms are closest
to those of botulism,

but botulism takes anywhere
from 12 to 36 hours.

I'm aware of its gestation period.

[chuckles] Baffling.

You seem pleased.

Oh, I'm always pleased, Mrs. Fletcher,

when I might be on to something new.

Half the time,

we never do discover
what we're dealing with anyway.

So any additional challenge
is, um, enticing.

Well, now, the first step

is to have everyone who's been exposed
report for tests.

Sheriff, you'll alert the media?

The media, ma'am?

Oh, you mean Phil up the radio station?

Don't you have a TV station?

Lots. Oh, none of them local.

What's the name of this town again?

-Ham.
-Check.

I had some of that.

-Syrup.
-Uh, check.

-I had some of that.
-Marmalade.

-Yo.
-I had some of that too.

You had some of everything, Amos.

Uh, Mrs. Perry, there's only one jar here.

The others seem to have two. Floyd?

Mrs. Fletcher,
I'm interested in what's here,

not what's not here.

Be sure you get enough for two sets,

and send one to HQ.

Floyd.

Floyd, do you remember
who was sitting at that table?

No, I don't.

I expect Cornelia would know.

[Mrs. Perry] Waffles.

Uh, we get those from the franchiser.

Amos, are you feeling all right?

Hmm? Oh, yes, ma'am.

-Great; never better.
-Oh, good.

Would you mind driving me
back to the hospital then?

-My pleasure.
-Thanks.

Five to seven... [indistinct]

-Seth, there's something that I need to--
-Jessica, Amos, I'm so glad to see you.

I have to examine everyone
who was at the inn today.

Even if we don't exhibit the symptoms?

Just to be on the safe side.
Chances are if you'd had a dose of this...

Why you would have collapsed long ago!

You know what they say, Doc,
better safe than sorry.

Uh, excuse me. My wife, Wilhelmina Fraser;

I just learned she's ill.

-Mr. Fraser?
-Yes.

I'm Dr. Hazlitt.

Oh, I drove down from Portland
as soon as I heard.

Oh, I don't want you to worry.
Your wife has had a mild case.

She's a little bit uncomfortable,

but she's going to be okay.

Well, that's a relief. May I see her?

Yes, but before that,

I think, perhaps,
I'd better tell you something.

Uh, excuse me, Sir.

Your Rolls Royce is blocking
the ambulance entrance.

Here.

Your wife's friend, Miss, uh, Fiddler...

Yes?

I'm afraid she didn't make it.

What?

-You mean she--
-Yeah.

-Oh, my God.
-Uh, now, uh, Jessica.

-Oh, God.
-Sit down, please.

Oh, Betty.

Mr. Fraser, I'm so very sorry
about your friend.

Yes. Yes, of course.

Thank you. Thank you.

Perhaps you'd like to see your wife.

She's still in a state of shock
over the death of her friend.

Of course I would.

Ah, wh-where is she?

I'll take you to her room.

Seth, Seth. Something is bothering me.

-Jess, you feeling poorly?
-Oh, no, no, I'm feeling fine.

Look, but isn't it medically possible

that someone could have planted
the poison in the food?

Sure, if they had access to a culture

and the wherewithal to transport it.

Why do you ask?

Well, but if the poison

wasn't found
in anything in the restaurant,

I mean, isn't it logical to assume

that it could have been in something

that was taken out of the restaurant?

Maybe so. It's a possibility.

Of course, there are a lot
of other possibilities too.

[chuckling] Oh, really!

Why, Mrs. Perry, I didn't realize
you were with us.

We were just, uh, speculating.

Perhaps running tests might be
a more effective use

of your time, Dr. Hazlitt,
instead of developing

useless speculations with a crisis hound.

A what?

Oh, there's one in every town,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Some amateur who gloms on to a crisis

and tries to turn an incident

that has a perfectly normal
scientific solution

into a Byzantine plot.

Now, just hold your horses!

You haven't found that other jar anywhere?

Not even in the garbage. Is it important?

Well, I'm not sure.

Floyd, do you have any enemies?

Just my chef, who doesn't want to cook.

No, I mean someone capable
of doing something like this

to destroy you.

Only my chef, who doesn't want to cook.

-Well, does he have a key?
-Oh, yes, yes.

He gets in early to prep breakfast.

I couldn't help but overhear
something about a contract.

Mm-hmm, yes.

You see, I paid his way over
here from France.

And in return, he agreed
to work here for three years.

Hell, I thought he was French.

You mean, you brought him over here

without knowing anything about him?

Well, I knew this much:

he comes from a famous family of chefs.

His grandfather ran
the Vin Rouge in Cannes,

and his father practically
invented nouvelle cuisine.

Well, that's a very impressive pedigree.

But how did you ever get him
to agree to cook here?

I mean, in America?

Well, it happens
he was born in Pittsburgh.

He wanted to get back.

Now that I've paid his way,

he's trying to get me to fire him.

See, that's the only way
he can get out of his contract.

[phone rings]
Excuse me.

Joshua Peabody inn.

Oh, oh, sure. Yes, Doc.

Yes, you want to talk to her. All right.

That was Doc Hazlitt.

He wants you over at the hospital.

Oh, great.

I think I know what the poison is.

It's strictly from
symptomatic observation.

Well, that's just what's been
gnawing at me, the symptoms.

These people have been
getting sick much too quickly.

They're all flushed and delirious.

None of this jibes with botulism

or any other food poisoning
I have ever run across.

That doesn't necessarily mean--

What about you, Mrs. Perry?

Negative.

Then I remembered a line
they taught us at med school.

"Red as a beet, mad as a Hatter."

These are the symptoms
of atropine poisoning.

Atropine? Isn't that like belladonna?

Yep. Quick, nasty.

And it can look a heck of a lot
like botulism.

-Then it's still bad?
-Deadly.

This is all speculation.

There's no real way to know

until the tests on the food
samples are complete.

Maybe yes, maybe no.

I have some of the antidote,
physostigmine.

Now, if my patients respond to that,

then we will have learned something,
won't we?

Of course.

Not necessarily.

Oh, come on.
Mrs. Perry, get off your badge.

It cannot hurt anyone,

and it might save some of those people

who otherwise might not make it
if we wait around for the tests.

Uh...

I'd like to volunteer to try it out, Doc,

just to set an example for the community.

That's brave of you, Amos.

You know what this means, Seth.

If I'm right, you're right.

I'm afraid I don't follow you, doctor.

Atropine would have had
to be deliberately planted.

Then it isn't food poisoning.

It's-it's poison in the food,
and that means--

It was murder.

Amos, you don't really need this shot.

You have none of the symptoms.

I never said I did.

Course, I do have this ringing in my ears.

Expect they just need cleaning out.

There's a funny feeling
at the pit of my stomach.

Your pit must be packed
after that breakfast.

-Oh, yeah, but, Doc--
-Why, Amos, you're very brave.

All day, you thought you'd been poisoned,

and you never said a word.

Well, be thankful
you're allergic to strawberries.

How's that? Ah!

Well, the one thing we know for sure

that's missing from the inn

is a jar of strawberry preserves.

Do you have any idea
who might have taken it?

No, but I think I know someone
who might know.

Cornelia, it must be very unsettling,

changing jobs so rapidly.

Nah, I'm just glad to be working at all.

I didn't know if Mr. Dixon
would hire me back.

Cornelia, at the inn, there was a table
with a single setting.

And the customer ordered a hamburger

but didn't eat it all.

-Do you remember who that was?
-No way I could forget.

-It was Mr. Dixon.
-That's odd.

Why did he order preserves?

No, he didn't. It was my mistake.

I brought it to him
instead of the pickle relish.

He looked like he wanted to fire me,

only it wasn't his restaurant.

Well, I guess Mrs. Fairley's
strawberry preserves

don't go with everything.

I don't know. People just love 'em.

The jar that you put on his table,

was it, uh, fairly low?

I was just about to refill it

when Mr. O'Connor ran in for Doc Hazlitt.

Oh, then it was you
who took it off the table?

No, ma'am. I forgot.

Well, with everything going on,
you understand.

You know, Mrs. Fletcher,
sometimes Bo isn't so bad.

He rushed right out
to see what he could do,

left his whole meal practically untouched.

Didn't take his jacket or anything.

Cornelia, what is this,
a hen party here or what, huh?

[chuckles] I did say "sometimes."

[Amos] Bo Dixon! Of course!

Amos, stop jumping to conclusions!

You're talking to the world record holder
of conclusion jumping.

Well, it adds up, doesn't it?

Bo was boiling because Floyd Nelson
opened up the Joshua Peabody Inn

and took away all of his business.

Now, what better way to get even,

than by putting something in the food.

First of all, we have no proof
that the jar of strawberry jam

contained the poison.

Second, Cornelia said
that Bo left the restaurant

and did not take anything with him.
And third,

that the jar of strawberry preserves
arrived at Bo's table

after everybody was poisoned.

There's your answer. Cornelia!

Answer, what's the question?

Who better had the opportunity of passing
that jar of preserves

to everybody who got sick?

-Cornelia?
-Sure, they were in cahoots!

Some of that poison could have been
meant for me.

Oh, not you, Amos.

Well, I did lead
most of Bo's customers away.

Not on purpose, of course.

You know what they say...

"If Sheriff Tupper goes,
so goes Cabot Cove."

-Who says that?
-Everybody!

...When it comes to food.

I must be travelling the wrong circles.

I don't recall hearing that.
[laughs]

Amos, wait.

Look, as long as we're playing

"who would want to make the
Joshua Peabody Inn look bad,"

the chef is doing everything possible

to get out of his contract with Floyd.

-And the best way would be--
-To close the inn for good!

So now I've got two suspects.

Three, if you want to count Cornelia.

I know who did it, and I know why.

Why, Mercer!

How nice to see you up and about.

Well, I won't be vertical for long

if the sheriff doesn't arrest Eb McEnery.

Oh, now, Merce.

You two fellas have been
into it for years.

Not this time.

I told him I had a Photostat
of a $10,000 kickback

that he got from
a thieving Portland contractor.

Oh, you mean, the one
who's always underbidding

your brother-in-law?

Right as rain.

And not ten minutes later,
I was sick as a dog.

You didn't have any
of those strawberry preserves

this morning?

I sure did, but McEnery didn't.

Is that how he slipped it to me,
in the preserves?

Uh, excuse me, please.

Mrs. Fraser, how much strawberry preserves
did you have?

I don't know. A little.

And Betty?

Gobs, I'm afraid.

I kept telling her
she shouldn't eat so many sweets.

That squares with their relative symptoms.

Well, this should cheer you up,
Mrs. Fraser.

If you keep responding this well,

you'll be out of here tonight.

Oh, thank you, doctor.

That's wonderful, isn't it, darling?

-Harrison?
-What?

Oh, yes, wonderful.

Preliminary tests show negative results

for all substances.

Uh, what is that in English?

In English? Pfft.

There's nothing toxic

in anything they took from the restaurant.

Well, thank goodness for that.

Floyd will be very relieved.

It also means that the atropine

had to be in that missing jar

of Mrs. Fairley's preserves,

as our amateur crisis hound thought.

Not necessarily.

It could have been in something

from which there were no leftovers.

Like what?

I'm a scientist not a waitress.

Well, then let's
look at this scientifically.

I mean, your tests prove

that everything was clean
at the restaurant.

But what if somebody removed
our most likely cause?

More speculation.

Can science show how a jar of preserves

might get up and walk out all on its own?

You think you're looking
at this scientifically,

but you're not.

-There are many possibilities.
-Yes?

For example, that single jar of preserves

could have been tainted.

No atropine, no murder.

Yes, I think I'd like to see
that Fairley company's plant.

Well, actually,
there is no plant, exactly.

Just the widow Fairley and her kitchen.

Do you mean to tell me that this town

allows some old lady

to sell homemade food out of her home?

For heaven's sakes, Mrs. Perry.

We've been enjoying
Mrs. Fairley's preserves for years.

Lucky you, all of you.

Where might I find
this haven of free enterprise?

Well, surely you're
not gonna close her down.

I mean, this is her only form of income.

My concern is for public welfare.

Well, the trouble with that is that it,

uh, occasionally is done

at the expense of the innocent individual.

[scoffs] That remains to be seen.

She reminds me
of a drill sergeant I had once.

Seth, I just thought of something.

Am I wrong or did Mrs. Fairley's nephew

used to pick up the jams in the morning

and deliver them to the restaurants?

Nephew? Nephew?

Jess, you may be right.

-Councilman Ebenezer McEnery.
-Right.

Oh, sheriff, just wait
till you're up for reelection.

That's all I've got to say!

You had better be careful
when you order a hamburger

at my place again, I'll tell you that.

I said listen!

Mercer Hawthorne says
you tried to kill him

to prevent him
going public with this kickback.

This was not a kickback.

This was a legitimate repayment of a loan,

and I've got the papers to prove it!

You know, maybe this state
should have sheriff IQ tests.

[Amos] Bo, you yourself said

Floyd was trying
to put you out of business.

If I were gonna poison people,

would I shoot my mouth off to the sheriff?

Now, would I?

Uh, well,

you both had motive
and means and opportunity.

And you can't try both of them.

Ms. Fletcher.

Easy! Easy!

I have to whip up soufflés
with these wrists.

Okay, both you fellas can go
for the time being.

What do you mean, time being?

Just don't leave town.

We're not the ones
that are gonna be looking

for another job somewhere else.

No, wait.

Before you do that, what's the penalty

for taking a poke at the sheriff?

Simmer down now.

I just want to ask you some questions.

-I guess you know Ms. Fletcher.
-Intimately.

You know, Mr. Dupree, my husband and I

went to your grandfather's restaurant once

and had the most marvelous dinner.

He made a coulibiac, and it was heavenly.

-Couli-what?
-[Jessica] Oh, you must ask him.

-I couldn't do it justice.
-Uh, uh, yes, uh, coulibiac.

A special dish. Very, very tricky.

Oh, yes, the béarnaise sauce
has to be just so.

Absolutely.

And the veal has to be
very young and tender.

Now, that's the secret, tender veal.

No, Mr. Dupree, I'm afraid not.

Coulibiac is served with a butter sauce

and made with salmon.

Well, of course. I meant to say salmon.

Ms. Fletcher,

are you saying that
this fella here is an imposter?

Oh, no, he's the real Alan Dupree.

He's just not a real chef.

Why? Because I flunked out
of Cordon Bleu...

and because then I was fired
by my father and my grandfather,

and now the final ignominy:

to be humiliated by the
Julia Child of Cabot Cove.

Oh, I'm so sorry.
That was not my intention.

Look, I may be a lousy cook,
but I never killed anybody.

The way I hear it,
you were pretty desperate

to get out of that contract.

Sure, because I couldn't do the job.

I mean, it was embarrassing.

And you had access to those preserves

before they left the kitchen.

So did a lot of other people.
Floyd, for one.

Oh, doggone it. Floyd?

I can't bring everybody in town
in here as a suspect.

Who else was in the kitchen, Mr. Dupree?

-Uh, you said there were others.
-The guy who owns the diner.

Bo Dixon. I had a feeling about him.

Then there was this other guy.
I never saw him before.

He came in the back door,

said he wanted to take a look
at the dining room.

-So he took a look.
-At what?

-Or whom?
-Beats me.

He took a look, and then he split

while I was trying to pick eggshells
out of an omelet.

A mysterious stranger, huh?

I've heard better stories from a poacher

with a trap in one hand
and a rabbit in the other.

Amos, maybe we were a little too quick

to dismiss Mercer Hawthorne's suggestion.

About Eb McEnery tryin' to kill him?

No, that the killer's intention

wasn't to discredit the restaurant

but to kill one particular
person with the preserves.

Sheriff!

While I was in the hospital
visiting my wife,

one of your deputies
stuck this ticket on my car.

-That's him.
-That's who?

That's the guy who came
into the kitchen this morning,

the one who was pokin' around
where he didn't belong.

I tell you, that is the guy
who I saw this morning.

You're mistaken, or you're lying.

-Oh, yeah?
-Arnold!

Show this young fella to the cooler.

Last thing I need is for someone

to start throwing punches in my office.

You're locking up the wrong guy, sheriff!

As I recall, you were in Portland

when you got word about your wife.

That's true.

Uh, Amos, I'm sure there's
a reasonable explanation...

Certainly.

For Mr. Fraser managing to be
in two places at the same time.

Suppose we cut to the bottom line.

It's my word against his.

I have a great deal of influence
in this part of New England.

Oh, I'm sure you do,

but connections won't help you

to evade a simple answer
to a simple question.

We both know, Mr. Fraser,

that you've been under
a great deal of stress,

with your wife's illness
and her best friend's murder.

-It's a tragic situation.
-Yes.

Betty was a fine woman.

Wilhelmina and I share a great loss.

Yes, I couldn't help but notice
that you seemed

to take her death particularly hard.

She was my friend.

Oh, of course.
And Wilhelmina is your wife.

And forgive me.

I don't understand how you can
show so little concern

about her close call.

What are you implying?

Well, I'm curious as to
which one of the two women

you were watching from the kitchen

or which one you were hiding from?

Have you forgotten?

I was in Portland.

I think this will cover the parking fine.

We don't see many Rolls Royces
in Cabot Cove.

I'm sure someone will have noticed it

at the inn this morning.

[typing]

[doorbell rings]

Mrs. Fletcher, uh, forgive me
if I've caught you at dinner.

Oh, no, I've, uh, already eaten.

I was hoping we could talk, you and I,

without the large ears
of the law listening in.

-Please come in.
-Thank you.

I'm sure you're right
about someone having seen my car

at the inn earlier today.

Your sheriff's probably out
rounding up witnesses

even as we speak.

He is very thorough.

But not very imaginative.

No doubt he will place me in that kitchen,

and then having done so,
do something very stupid,

as well as embarrassing,
to me and to my wife.

Uh, Mr. Fraser, I'm sure
that you have a point to make.

It's simply this:

supposing for the moment
that I was having an affair

with my wife's best friend,

would I be likely
to terminate it so abruptly?

And why here,
when it could easily be done in Portland?

If you had any idea
how much I loved that woman...

why did you follow them, Mr. Fraser?

Betty insisted
that I tell Wilhelmina about us.

I didn't think the timing was right.

When she suggested this trip to Willy,

just the two of them,
together like schoolgirls,

I panicked.

I had to get to Betty
to warn her to be patient.

Then it was her eye

you were trying to catch from the kitchen?

Yes.

I signaled to her, and then she met me

in the corridor by the restrooms.

She told me I was being ridiculous

and that they were having
such a good time,

she didn't want to spoil it,

but that if I didn't tell Willy
as soon as they got back,

it would be all over between us.

-And then you left?
-Yes, by a rear door.

I was halfway home
when I heard the radio report

of the food poisoning
and that there were two women

from Portland among the victims.

And then, well, you know the rest.

Mr. Fraser, I suggest you tell your story
to Sheriff Tupper.

I'm afraid that would be pointless.

If it comes to that,

I'll have my attorney
do my talking for me.

You seem a decent woman.

I wanted you to know the truth.

Well, thank you for sharing it with me.

I'm going to, uh,

be picking my wife up in about an hour.

All I want now is just to put this, uh,

dreadful business behind us.

-Good-bye.
-Good night, Mr. Fraser.

[Seth] And you, believe him?

Frankly, Seth, I don't know
what to believe.

You look very tired. You ought to go home.

I'll go home when my patients are okay.

Oh, by the way, that young O'Connor kid,

-gonna be okay.
-Oh, good.

I keep wondering,
are we missing something?

Something right under our very noses
that should be obvious and isn't?

Like what?

Killing someone
with poisoned strawberry preserves,

isn't like...

Well, stabbing them with a dagger or...

Shooting them point blank with a pistol.

It's possible that the killer missed.

How do you mean?

I mean, supposing that the preserves
got away from him?

And others got sick?

-That could have been a mistake.
-Hm-mm.

And there could have been another mistake
and the wrong person got killed.

If that's so, there may be no connection
between the killer and Betty Fiddler.

This will only take a second, Mr. Dixon.

I'm busy.

Yes, but I'm sorry.
This is very, very important.

So is making a living.

Some policemen can't seem

to get that through their thick heads

I am not here to defend Sheriff Tupper.

Mr. Dixon, when you rushed out of the inn

to help those poison victims,

do you recall who was still
in the dining room?

Nope.

Did you see anyone
who could have picked up

the jar of preserves from your table?

Nope.

Do you accept credit cards
here in Peyton Place?

Yep.

I just love eating at diners.

No surprises.

Everything is just as you expect it to be.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher,
I guess this is good-bye.

Oh, you're leaving
before the case is solved?

My job is bad food, not murder.

-Thank you, ma'am.
-Thank you.

I wish I could say it's been a pleasure.

Oh, there you are, my dear.

I left your tip on my credit card.

Oh, thank you.

Mrs. Perry, what did you say?

I left her tip on my credit card.

Oh, of course.

Well, isn't that what most people do?

Excuse me. Pardon me.

She really shouldn't spend
so much time in this town.

[knocking on door]

[mouthing words]

Oh, been out here long, Ms. Fletcher?

Oh, I'm sorry to bother you again, Floyd,

but there's something that I need.

What exactly are you looking for?

This!

A credit card receipt?

Oh, it's much more than that.

You don't need the antidote.
You have none of the symptoms

-and it's been what, ten hours.
-Now, you listen,

We just drove 200 miles out of our way.

We messed up our ETAs for our entire trip
and we're not leaving without those shots.

How do you feel?

Carsick.

Did you have any strawberry preserves
this morning?

Uh-huh. We sure did.

And we heard on the radio,
there's something wrong with them.

So, why don't you just stick us
with a needle and get it over with?

Oh, but you needn't worry.
You weren't exposed.

Seth, I need you.

I insist.

Thank you for taking such good care of me.

You're welcome. And thank you.

Ah.

Ready, dear?

Well, I still feel a little shaky.

Oh?

Maybe I should have another look at you.

Oh, no, really, I'm fine.

Why, Mrs. Fraser,

whatever became
of your gorgeous suede purse?

You remember it, Seth?

Uh, now that you mention it.

Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Fraser,

but isn't that your friend
Betty's shoulder bag?

Willy, why are you using it?

Harrison, don't be absurd.

If she can't explain it, maybe I can.

It all began with a jar

of Mrs. Fairley's strawberry preserves.

It started to circulate
at the table of those tourists,

the ones who fussed about their toast
and the ETAs.

They both ate some preserves.

Cornelia then brought the basket
to your table, Mrs. Fraser,

where you had a little of the preserves.

But Betty had quite a bit,
as you yourself told us.

Then Sheriff Tupper asked Betty
if he could have the basket.

He ate a lot of marmalade
but no preserves.

Cornelia then picked up the basket

and passed it on to the councilman

and then on to O'Connors,
and, finally, to Bo Dixon.

And since the tourists didn't get sick

and several of the others did--

The poison had to be
introduced into the preserves...

at Mrs. Fraser's table.

Exactly.

If you're accusing my wife of anything,

you should remember
that she became ill too.

To avoid suspicion,

she ate a little of the preserves herself.

But wasn't that part of the plan?

You knew you and Betty
would stop somewhere to eat,

so you took the atropine with you.

Something went wrong.

That's what I couldn't figure out.

I finally realized it was Sheriff Tupper.

Amos?

[Jessica]
Well, Mrs. Fraser wasn't at her table

when he took the basket.

You hadn't counted on the preserves

leaving your table,
and you had to get them back.

I heard you tell Betty at the door

that you were going back to the table

to leave a tip for Cornelia.

But you had already
left her a tip a second earlier

on your credit card.

You didn't go back to leave a tip.

I believe you went back
to find the jam jar,

to take away the evidence.

You put the jam jar in your suede purse.

It was the only place
you could have concealed it.

And then when Betty collapsed outside,

Amos handed her purse to you.

May I see your shoulder bag, please?

No.

Thank you.

You followed the ambulance in your car.

The jar didn't have a lid.

You must have noticed

that the preserves had spilled
into your purse.

Strawberries.

Preserves are terribly difficult

to get out of a suede purse, aren't they?

The road from the inn
passes over Morgan's Creek.

It's shallow this time of year,
isn't it, Seth?

Poor for fishing.

The sheriff could drag it, Mrs. Fraser.

Unless you want to save him the trouble.

When Betty suggested this trip,
I did my homework.

At least I thought I did.

I was so sure it would look like botulism.

I didn't mean to make anyone else sick.

I only wanted to get Harrison back.

I never realized that he--

Harrison?

Well, I've got some bad news
and some good news.

The bad news is,

the franchiser has closed
the Joshua Peabody Inn.

But they can't.

It's practically a historical monument.

Well, they're trying to nip

any adverse publicity in the bud.

Oh, Floyd, I am so sorry.

But you said something about good news?

They've given me the franchise

for the Ethan Allen Inn in Vermont.

Wonderful! Congratulations.

Fair name for an inn.

At least we know Ethan Allen was real.