All language subtitles for 1MSW01E08 Were Off To Kill The Wizard

- You must be a terribly unhappy man. - I don't need your dime-store psychoanalysis.

I swear on my honor, I meant no harm!

Mrs. Baldwin is willing to pay you $100,000 if you can prove that Horatio was murdered.

First you said it was not a suicide.

Now you've proved it couldn't be anything but.

...you're describing, it's impossible.

Horatio Baldwin is dead, and I killed him.

And made his getaway through an oak door sealed shut by a six-inch steel bolt?

Yes, Horatio?

Sir, I'm prepared to invoke flattery, cajolery, even bribery.

Horatio, you have my word on it.

I will bring Mrs. Fletcher back with me one way or the other.

Well, Billy, what do you think of that? Wow!

How did you fix it? Daddy said it couldn't be fixed.

No, Daddy said he didn't know how to fix it.

But I've got a bike almost like this back home in Maine.

Can I ride it? Well, absolutely.

Congratulations. Bert was ready to junk that old thing.

Dear, I hope he won't be upset with me.

Are you kidding? He's gonna be grateful.

Look, Jess, I've confirmed your flight to Kansas City tomorrow.

But, honestly, won't you come back and stay a few more days?

No, dear. A good guest is like Halley's Comet...

seen and enjoyed seldom and briefly.

Right after my lecture, I go straight back to Cabot Cove.

- We'll miss you. - Good. Then you'll invite me back again.

Excuse me. Mrs. Fletcher? Yes?

My name is Michael Gardner,

and I am an ardent admirer of the woman and her work.

Why, thank you. This is my niece, Mrs. Donovan.

Delighted to meet you.

Mrs. Fletcher, I know this is terribly short notice,

but my employer just this morning learned of your arrival in town, and he is most anxious to meet you.

I'm sorry, but... Perhaps you've heard of him.

- Horatio Baldwin? - Horrible Horatio?

- That's right, son. - And precisely what or who is a Horrible Horatio?

Mr. Baldwin operates various theme parks throughout the country.

As a matter of fact, today at noon he's previewing his latest venture... Horatio's House of Horrors.

It's just for press and a few close friends. But he would really love it if you could join us.

Hey, that's neat! Could we, Aunt Jess?

Could we? Billy, I don't think...

- Could we, please? - I wanna go too!

No. No! No!

Wait! Wait! This is an error!

A grave error. Please, no!

You don't understand!

Boy! Too bad Bert can't be here. He's my biggest kid of all.

♪♪

Hear ye! Hear ye!

Witness all ye assembled here...

that for various crimes against the people,

Horatio Baldwin must now suffer the judgment...

rendered unto him by a jury of his peers.

Executioner, do your duty.

No! No! Wait!

Wait! This is an error!

Wow! No! No!

What are they doing? They're gonna hang him, dummy.

But it's only pretend, Cindy. It's just a game.

My friends, I swear on my honor. I meant no harm!

I only meant to titillate you!

Is there no one here who will come to my aid?

♪♪

Fear not, sir! I shall deliver you from this ghastly fate!

Good Lord, no! A knife! Quick! Has anybody got a knife?

Somebody call an ambulance! Get a doctor! Jess!

Get in there! Help him, quick!

I am quite all right, my friends, I assure you.

I hope this little diversion didn't distress you too deeply.

It was all in fun. My friends, I bid you welcome!

Wow! What a gross-out. What happened?

Nothing, dear. They were just playing a big joke.

Well, did you enjoy our little stunt? Frankly, Mr. Gardner, I found it quite appalling.

Mr. Baldwin is ready to meet with you now, Mrs. Fletcher.

And in the meantime, I'll arrange for the family to tour the rest of the park.

My dear Mrs. Fletcher, how good of you to come.

How could I refuse? I had two loaded children pointed at my head.

Come. Let me show you around.

I don't want to be rude, Mr. Baldwin, but my family is waiting for me.

I'll only need a few minutes of your time, dear lady.

It must seem bizarre having an office complex like this beneath the park.

Well, perhaps you have an aversion to sunshine.

No, not sunshine. Predatory competitors.

With access limited to our elevator complex, we've been able to keep our secrets to ourselves.

Mr. Baldwin! I'm busy, Nils.

Yeah. You've been busy for a couple of weeks now.

But you're not going to be so busy if the city shuts you down for safety violations.

- I will talk to you later. - It's my name, Nils Highlander, on those permits.

- It's my reputation at stake here. - That's enough!

Exercise discretion, sir.

Nothing quite as temperamental as a bullheaded Swede.

Shall we?

Mr. Baldwin, have you lured me here to offer me some sort of job?

Please, Mrs. Fletcher, permit me the seduction before you cry rape.

Come in, please.

Miss Bascomb, please see that Mrs. Fletcher and I are not disturbed.

Yes, sir. Sir?

You had an important call from Mr. Carlson.

I'll be the judge of which calls are important, Miss Bascomb.

Yes, sir.

My, that looks familiar.

It's terrific. It really is.

I'm delighted you liked it. What's your name?

Laurie. Laurie Bascomb.

Well, Laurie, would you like me to sign your book? I'd be so pleased.

You would? It would be an honor, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm trying to write a book myself.

Are you? That's wonderful. It's awfully hard work.

I know. Grim. Mrs. Fletcher?

Perhaps that could wait till later.

I think not, Mr. Baldwin.

Phil?

Arnold, I'm kind of busy right now. She's here, Phil.

J.B. Fletcher. She came. I can't believe it.

So, she came. So what?

You know what that means. Another park. More red ink, more falsified accounts.

Arnold, if you don't like the job, you should quit.

You know I can't do that any more than you can.

Me quit?

No, I don't think so. Didn't you hear?

The old boy's making me vice president. He's gonna announce it tomorrow.

That's what he promised me two years ago before he snatched it away.

He'll do the same to you, Phil. Just watch.

The answer is no, Mr. Baldwin.

Don't be ridiculous. This can't miss.

Horatio Baldwin presents J. B. Fletcher's Mansion of Murder and Mayhem.

A panoply of blood and gore, chills and thrills,

the screaming meemies in three octaves.

The kids'll love it.

- The kids? - Well, who do you think pays to see this stuff?

Don't you go to the movies?

When Cary Grant bowed out, so did I. Violence.

That's what pays, Mrs. Fletcher. That's money in the bank.

No. That's disgraceful.

Come, come, dear lady.

Why this moral outrage?

I've read your books. We're in the same business.

No, Mr. Baldwin. I write for people who read.

You apparently stage your bloodbaths for tots...

who have not yet learned to differentiate between...

your sordid charades and the real world.

- There's quite a difference. - I'm not used to being refused.

Well, they do say a new experience broadens the mind.

Excuse me.

I had the device put in to keep unwanted visitors out.

I've never had to use it to keep someone in.

Isn't that rather childish?

I can be a generous friend, Mrs. Fletcher.

I can also be a devastating enemy.

You must be a terribly unhappy man.

What? I had a student like you once.

He used to sulk and stamp his foot when he couldn't get his own way.

I don't need your dime-store psychoanalysis.

Perhaps not, Mr. Baldwin.

But you do need to unlock this door.

My niece's husband is a detective with the city police,

and I won't hesitate to have you arrested on charges of forcible detainment.

Very well, my dear lady.

But I can assure you...

this conversation is far from over.

Mickey, Mrs. Fletcher is going to prove tougher than I suspected.

We're going to have to use your special brand of research to turn her around.

Hey, Ned, you hear that? Yeah. Sounded like a shot.

What's he doing here this time of night?

And where's Miss Bascomb? Yeah. She never leaves until he does.

Yeah.

He's got it bolted from the inside.

Mr. Baldwin, are you in there?

Hey, Ned, what do we do?

Carlson's still here. I better give him a call.

Yeah? Mr. Carlson?

Yeah, it's Ned O'Brien with Security.

I'm sorry to disturb you so late, but, well, we heard a shot in Mr. Baldwin's office.

We can't get in. It's bolted from the inside.

What? Well, break in the door! Use the fire ax if you have to. You do it now! I'm on my way!

He said, go in.

My God.

Is he...

I don't know.

O'Brien!

You should have seen it, Dad. It was really great.

Everybody thought the guy really got hung.

Hanged, Billy. Drapes are hung. People are hanged.

Bert, can I fix you another hamburger? No, I'm fine, Jess.

I'll get it.

Hello? Bert, it's for you.

Headquarters. Come on. It's Saturday night.

Gee, Aunt Jess, I sure hate to see that other hamburger go to waste.

I'll just bet you would.

This is Donovan.

What?

When?

Yes, she's-she's here, but...

Yeah, okay. I understand.

Bert, what is it?

Horatio Baldwin... he's dead.

What? Dead?

And the captain wants to talk to you, Jess.

Me? Whatever for? I don't know exactly.

- All they said was that Baldwin committed suicide. - That's ridiculous.

- They seemed pretty sure. - Well, they're wrong.

I met the gentleman. And, believe me, suicide was not in his plans.

Mrs. Fletcher. Captain Davis. Thank you for coming.

I know it's an imposition. Not at all.

Bert, we've already questioned most of the employees,

but we can't locate the secretary, a woman named Laurie Bascomb.

I want an all-points on her immediately. Yes, sir.

Excuse me, Captain. That sounds as if Miss Bascomb is a suspect.

Just procedure, ma'am. Then Horatio's death isn't a suicide.

That's right, Mrs. Fletcher. It seems impossible,

but now we believe that Horatio Baldwin was murdered.

At 7:15, there were only a handful of people still at work,

including Baldwin.

Now, this door was shut, bolted from the inside.

Yes, he demonstrated the slide bolt to me. Very formidable.

Well, the guards heard a shot. They rushed to the door, but they couldn't get in.

On orders from Phillip Carlson... Carlson?

Baldwin's right-hand man.

They broke in the door. They found Baldwin slumped over his desk,

a freshly fired pistol in his right hand.

Watch your step, please.

As you can see, there are no windows.

We are 30 feet under the ground. We are surrounded on three sides by rock and dirt.

And if you're thinking about a hidden door, forget it. The boys have been looking for hours.

Just a minute, Captain.

First, you said it was not a suicide.

Now you've proved it couldn't be anything but.

Yes, ma'am.

The medical examiner says that Horatio Baldwin took a blow to the head here.

And he's pretty sure that it was the blow that was the cause of death, not the gunshot.

Pretty sure? Actually, he's positive.

Well, Captain, what you're describing, that's impossible. I know that.

Well? -

Mrs. Fletcher, in your books,

you have a way of creating impossible murders without their really being impossible.

And you thought I might have a few notions.

Yes, ma'am, something like that.

Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Captain. I haven't got a clue.

Yes, good morning. My name is J.B. Fletcher.

I'm scheduled on your 10:00 a.m. Flight to Kansas City.

I wonder, could I switch to a later flight, if possible?

Yes, that would be fine.

Also, do you have anything returning here this evening?

Don't be afraid, my friends.

Nothing frightening awaits you.

Perhaps a moment or two of panic, but we did warn you.

Seat belts pulled tight? That's good.

And now, just sit back...

It's not the tape. I already checked that on another machine.

Must be something in the relays.

Mr. Carlson?

Mr. Carlson, you're a hard man to track down. I'm Jessica Fletcher.

It's a... it's a pleasure to meet you.

Horatio said you'd be talking to us. This is Nils Highlander, our construction foreman.

- Jessica Fletcher. - We met fleetingly yesterday.

Did you manage to get your problem straightened out?

I've got no problem, miss. I just do my job the best I can, that's all.

Excuse me. I programmed my phone to forward my calls here.

Yeah, this is Nils.

No. No. No, you wait.

I'll be right there.

Amateurs. For help, we've got amateurs.

Strange. Yesterday, he was ready to throttle Horatio Baldwin.

Today, he has no problem.

You know, I find it hard to believe what I keep hearing, Mrs. Fletcher... that Horatio was murdered.

The police believe it's possible.

Believe me, it's not.

I entered the room not 30 seconds after the security men broke in the door.

You could still smell the gunpowder. And that door was bolted shut from the inside.

No way anyone could have killed him.

Well, assuming that it was murder, Mr. Carlson,

do you have any idea of anyone who might...

Want the old boy dead? Aside from me, that is.

Well, let me see.

There's his wife and his business manager... Madam Dracula and the sleaze bag. That's two.

The bookkeeper, popcorn vendors, a dozen or so groundskeepers, the entire steno pool.

Shall I continue?

Well, I must confess that I didn't find Mr. Baldwin as lovable...

as his publicity people painted him.

Face it, Mrs. Fletcher. Beneath the Santa Claus smile...

beat the heart of a sewer rat.

Personally, I think Horatio did the world a big favor.

But if it should turn out to be otherwise, please tell me who to thank.

Excuse me. I have work to do.

Afternoon, ma'am. Help you with your luggage?

I don't have any, but thanks. Y'all must be goin' to Kansas City.

It oughta be leavin' in about 10 minutes. Thank you very much.

And, ma'am, that flight'll be leavin' from a special gate.

I'll show you. It's down this way.

Well, my ticket agent said it was Departure Gate B.

Yeah, well, they changed it around at the last minute.

All this construction, you know. It's right this way, ma'am.

I think I'd better check the desk. That won't be necessary, Mrs. Fletcher.

We arranged special transportation for you to Kansas City.

Well, thank you, Mr. Gardner, but I've already made my arrangements.

Yes. And we've made ours too.

- Please. - A gun? Surely you're joking.

On the contrary, I have someone who is very anxious to meet you, Mrs. Fletcher.

Well, I'll accompany you, but not because you're holding a gun on me,

but because my-my curiosity is aroused.

There must be a rational explanation for all this. There is, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'm Erica Baldwin. Thank you for accepting my invitation.

I never refuse messengers bearing deadly weapons.

I'll tell the pilot we're ready for takeoff.

Please, sit down. Thank you.

Would you like a drink? No, no, thank you.

Black is very becoming to you.

This? I only wear it on special occasions.

Four husbands and four funerals?

You may be in danger of wearing it out. You know my reputation, Mrs. Fletcher.

My nephew Bert has been filling me in.

Mrs. Erica Baldwin,

one-time showgirl, now America's wealthiest widow...

thanks to the untimely demise of three...

now four... husbands.

Would it surprise you if I said I loved Horatio very deeply?

Yes, it would.

Then I won't say it.

Since Mr. Gardner risked bringing me here at the point of a gun,

I assume he feels a very strong attachment to you.

For the past two years, Horatio chose a celibate life, Mrs. Fletcher.

With Michael's cooperation, I didn't.

I see. I understand...

the police aren't convinced my husband committed suicide... that they think he was murdered.

They're exploring the idea.

"They"? What about you?

I'm concerned about the fate of a very nice young lady named Laurie Bascomb.

But if you've shanghaied me here to persuade me to stop, you're out of luck.

That's not it at all, Mrs. Fletcher. We seriously want you to continue.

As a matter of fact, we... that is... Mrs. Baldwin...

is willing to pay you $100,000 if you can prove that Horatio was murdered.

I neither need nor want your money, Mrs. Baldwin.

Then give it to the starving orphans. They do.

I'm sorry. I'm confused.

Forgive me. As his principal heir, Mrs. Baldwin,

I should have thought that proving murder would be the last thing that you would want.

What I want is ready cash.

Horatio's holdings are heavily mortgaged.

On the other hand, 11 months ago,

he took out a life insurance policy worth two million dollars.

And somewhere in the fine print...

is a clause relieving the company of responsibility if Horatio kills himself.

I told ya she was sharp.

So, you see, Mrs. Fletcher,

I desperately need you to prove that the impossible was possible.

Ready for takeoff, Mrs. Baldwin.

Please fasten your seat belts.

I don't have the faintest idea how I could do that.

But you're going to try.

Jess, here you are. We've been so worried. I'm so sorry.

I tried to call you several times from the airport, but the line was busy.

Jess, we have company.

Laurie! Mrs. Fletcher.

I wanted to call you. I didn't know what to do.

It's all right, child. No, it's not all right.

Horatio Baldwin is dead, and I killed him.

Let's get one thing straight. You did not kill Horatio Baldwin.

But if I hadn't left him alone... I was under orders...

to stay at my desk until he left for the night.

And instead, you got into a knockdown, drag-out fight.

Well, that only goes to prove that you're human.

Now, Laurie, please, tell us exactly what happened...

between you and Mr. Baldwin the night he died.

It was ugly, Mrs. Fletcher. I wanted to quit.

I couldn't stand it anymore, the way he used people.

He threatened me. I begged him to let me go.

He said he was going to reveal certain things about my past.

When he went back into his office, I followed him.

He was acting like a madman, taking delight in my desperation.

I could have killed him then and there.

I ran out of the room. He followed me to the doorway.

He said I'd never work again. I knew he had all the power, but I didn't care.

I just wanted to get away. And all he did was laugh,

went back into the room, shutting the door.

I heard the bolt slam into place.

That was about a quarter to 7:00.

I swear to you... he was in that room alone,

the door bolted, when I left.

You said he threatened you. Do you mean blackmail?

We're not looking for details, but if he was blackmailing you,

he may have had his thumbprints on several other people as well.

He had files on Arnold, Carlson, Nils,

all his key people, but I don't know where he kept them.

I should say in his office. All those security precautions. He wouldn't hide them anywhere else.

Jess, we went over that office top to bottom.

But you were looking for a door, Bert, not a cubbyhole.

That's great. Block it off there.

Now let's get that wagon over against that wall.

We've looked up there several times.

Shh. I'm trying to reason this thing out.

Try not to fall asleep.

Donovan!

Morning, Captain. I understand you have the Bascomb woman.

- Yes, sir, and I've questioned her. - Why haven't you arrested her?

Well...

Excuse me. So, what's going on here?

We're searching for Horatio's secret hiding place.

Lieutenant, you've searched this room 12 times. Nobody could've hidden in here.

Not a person. Files.

Secret files. What secret files?

Don't give me that. You know exactly what I'm talking about.

Well, I don't. Blackmail, sir.

Baldwin had dirt on just about everyone in the company.

It's how he kept their loyalty. Now, Mrs. Fletcher believes the files are hidden somewhere in this office.

Is that right, Mrs. - - Jessica?

My God, she's gone!

Bert, what would you say the temperature is in here?

- The temperature? - It's an even 68, controlled by a central unit.

Well, in that case, why would a man...

have a built-in thermostat on his desk?

- What? Something? - Soot.

- What are you doing? - Mr. Baldwin was an obsessive gadgeteer.

It seems to me if he wanted to hide a secret,

what better place than out in plain sight.

Empty.

So much for suicide.

Whoever murdered Horatio stole those files, faked the suicide...

And made his getaway through an oak door sealed shut by a six-inch steel bolt?

No, Lieutenant, I'm sorry. I'm a lousy audience for fairy tales.

I hope you'll excuse me.

We open in less than 48 hours, and I've got a lot of work to do.

For a man whose career has been steeped in illusion,

Mr. Carlson has a very closed mind.

Well, Mrs. Fletcher, it appears that you may be right about the files.

But that still doesn't bring us any closer to solving the murder.

I'm not so sure, Captain. True, we don't have the files.

But it seems to me that Horatio Baldwin...

is hardly the sort of man who would've done his own dirty work.

Right. He had someone working for him.

Someone who knew what was in those files.

Now all we have to do is to find out who that someone is.

I have a reservation on the 9:15 flight to Mexico City. Megrim.

The name's Arnold Megrim.

Yes, Mr. Megrim. One moment, please.

Code five. Code five.

It's the guy we've been waiting for. Terminal 2.

Here we are, Mr. Megrim.

First class to Mexico City. Flight 366, leaving at 9:15.

Just this one piece of luggage, sir? Yeah.

I'll carry this one.

Hold it! Hold it, there!

Get out of my way! Get out of my way!

No! It's my money!

This is my money! It's mine!

This is mine! No!

No! It's my money! No!

I swear to you, Lieutenant. That money is mine.

I earned it. Every penny.

110,000 in cash?

Ten years of my life.

My years of servitude to Horatio Baldwin.

What about these, Mr. Megrim?

I never saw them before, Lieutenant. I'm a bookkeeper, not a killer.

Well, according to these, you're also an embezzler.

Eleven years ago, Felson Brothers Mine and Foundry.

I never stole a dime from that company. It was...

It was taken by Wanda Perlstein, my associate.

Actually, she was more than my associate.

She was... What's the difference?

Mr. Megrim, I can understand you being forced to stay by Mr. Baldwin,

but what I can't understand is why you ran.

Well, I received a phone call.

It was a man, I think. The voice seemed disguised.

He said the police had the files... that they'd be picking me up. I- I panicked.

And it was a phone call that alerted airport security to search his luggage.

Lieutenant, I was wondering, could I go now, please?

I left my little cat in the care of my landlord,

but l-I really have been worrying about her.

Sure. Just don't go anywhere we can't find you.

How could I go anywhere?

You've got it all... every penny.

I don't know, Jess. What do you think?

Well, for one thing, I just wonder if this material is accurate.

I mean, for instance, this file on Carlson...

That he ran off to Canada during the Vietnam crisis.

I mean, that is not a devastating revelation.

No, it's not. There's another thing, Bert.

Did you notice?

One name is conspicuously missing on that list.

Michael Gardner, the business manager.

A cat? I must be losin' my mind.

What's a damn cat doin' up here?

Aw, come on!

Kitty, kitty.

Here, kitty.

What is this, a joke?

Right. Got it.

Okay, thanks, Ray.

Morning. You're sexy at this hour of the morning.

You finally noticed. You want some coffee?

I'll get it.

So what happened? Did Gardner really kill himself?

Maybe somebody helped him over the ledge.

There's no way to tell.

Ray did dig up a couple of things.

Gardner's name was really Mickey Baumgarten,

an ex-private investigator out of New York...

who was Baldwin's private bloodhound.

We found some more stuff in his apartment.

Wait till you hear this. He was trying to dig up something on your Aunt Jessica.

You're kidding? Who was next on his list, the pope? Probably.

- Speaking of your aunt, where is she? - She went over to the House of Horrors...

to take another look at Baldwin's office.

I assumed you knew. No, I didn't.

Damn.

There's a private line into that office. What is that number?

It's 555-1998.

Anybody here? Mrs. Fletcher.

Good morning, Ned. Your friend let me in. I hope you don't mind.

No, ma'am. How's it going?

Not very well, I'm afraid.

Geez. I, I wish I could help you.

I was right here, and, believe me, there's no way it could've been anything but a suicide.

I'll get that.

Hello? Yeah, this is O'Brien, Security.

Lieutenant. Yeah, she's, she's right here. Hang on. Mrs. Fletcher?

It's a Lieutenant Donovan. You can take it in there.

I'll get it. Thank you. Good morning, Bert.

Don't be silly. I'm perfectly all right.

Look Bert, would you stop treating me as if I'm...

Well, all right, I'm... Well, I'm leaving. Bye.

- Ned? - Yes, ma'am?

Ned, those phones and these phones in here, they're all on the same lines, right?

Yes, ma'am. 1998 and 1999. Yeah.

- And if they're being used, these little buttons would all light up, right? - Right.

And if someone were to call in on 1998 and the line was busy,

it would automatically kick over to 1999.

Right again.

So if I used 1998...

to dial 1998,

the call would come in on 1999.

Sure. But why would you wanna do that?

Now, that light should be lit, and it's not.

Ned, be a dear. Go in there and pick up the receiver on the phone.

Okay.

Hey, this phone should be ringing! Yes, I know. Please, pick up the receiver.

- Hello, Mrs. Fletcher? Are you there? - Yes, I'm right here.

Mrs. Fletcher, excuse my French,

but just what the hell is going on here?

Nothing significant, Ned.

I have just figured out who killed Horatio Baldwin...

and how it was done.

Yo!

Excuse me, Mr. Carlson. Yeah, O'Brien?

While you were out, Mrs. Fletcher called.

She'd like you to call her at her niece's.

She said it was really important.

Thanks.

Hello? Mrs. Fletcher?

Yes? It's Phillip Carlson.

Mr. Carlson, thank you so much for getting back to me.

I suppose you heard about poor Mr. Gardner.

Yeah, yeah. Tragic.

Well, apparently he had some files that he had microfilmed.

Microfilmed? Yes.

And I have reason to believe they are hidden in the Tunnel of Horrors.

Of course, my niece's husband thinks I'm bonkers.

Does he really? Mr. Carlson, believe me, I am not addled.

I know right where that microfilm is,

and so do you if you think about it.

An attraction that isn't quite working right?

Yeah, yeah. Yes, I remember.

Could we meet with the blueprints in, say, 40 minutes?

It will take that long to get across town.

Yes. Sure. Forty minutes.

I'll see you then.

Don't be afraid, my friends.

Nothing frightening awaits you.

Perhaps a moment or two of panic, but we did warn you.

Seat belts pulled tight?

That's good. And now...

Just sit back...

How wonderful, Mr. Carlson. You've found our prize.

Mrs. Fletcher, you surprised me.

How did you get over here so quickly? I just spoke to you from the other side of town.

Yes, I had the call automatically forwarded to a phone just a block from here.

But I don't have to tell you about call forwarding, do I?

I-l-I don't know what you're talking about.

Don't you? That's how you killed Horatio Baldwin.

That, and a little misdirection.

Why'd you do it, Mr. Carlson?

Did he renege on a promise to make you a vice president?

You're crazy. Am I?

Whoever planted those blackmail files on Arnold Megrim...

would have first replaced his own file with something less incriminating.

That's why you killed Gardner...

because he knew what Horatio Baldwin really had on you.

That's why you have to destroy that microfilm.

You're clever, Mrs. Fletcher.

Clever.

Guns, guns. That's all you people know.

Baldwin. Gardner. What's one more killing?

You can't expect to get away with murder. But I already have.

Freeze right there, Carlson!

Drop the gun. Kick it to me.

Thank you, Mr. Highlander. The illusion was perfect.

Good thing it was.

You got lucky, Mrs. Fletcher. I didn't know about the microfilm.

Microfilm? You mean this? No.

This is just a roll of negative from my trip last year to Spain.

The key to the mystery...

a telephone that wouldn't ring.

The fact is that Horatio Baldwin was not alone in this room...

when O'Brien and the other security guard heard the shot.

Carlson was here in the room with him.

But that can't be. No?

Let me reconstruct what we believe...

or, rather, what Mrs. Fletcher believes... happened.

Jess, are you sure you don't want to explain this?

Don't be silly. You're the policeman.

Well, jump in if I get this wrong.

After Laurie and Horatio fought and she left, Carlson showed up.

Horatio let him into the office.

Now, they quarreled. Carlson had been promised a promotion, but Horatio changed his mind.

They struggled, and Horatio either fell...

or was struck on the head, killing him instantly.

Carlson panicked. He was the only one working late that night.

He knew he'd be the obvious... if not the only...suspect, so he devised a plan.

He hurried back to his own office, where he got the pistol he kept hidden away.

Then he programmed the telephone...

so that if a call came in, it would automatically be forwarded to Horatio's telephone.

And keep in mind what he was wearing that day...

dark slacks and a dark sweater over his shirt.

He returned to Laurie's telephone and disconnected the lightbulb under the button.

Then he moved into the office and bolted the door.

Next, he disconnected the bell on Horatio's telephone...

so that if a call came in, someone standing outside the door couldn't hear it ring.

And, finally, he propped Horatio up at the desk,

placed the gun in his hand, the barrel to his head,

and squeezed the trigger.

The sound of the shot alerted O'Brien,

who rushed to the office, where he was met by the other security guard.

Now, unable to get inside,

they did just what Carlson expected them to do.

They phoned him for instructions.

They thought they were reaching Carlson in his own office, but actually...

he was taking the forwarded call here in Horatio's office. Yeah?

Well, we heard a shot in Mr. Baldwin's office, and we can't get in. It's bolted from the inside.

Well, break in the door! Use the fire ax if you have to.

You do it now! I'm on my way, okay?

Then he hung up. He moved to the shadows next to the bolted door...

and pulled the black turtleneck sweater up over his head.

In the darkness, totally dressed in black, he was virtually invisible.

The guards broke in, but, of course, they were focusing on Horatio slumped at his desk.

My God.

Classic misdirection.

They never saw Carlson exit the room while their attention was diverted.

In the corridor, he quickly got rid of the sweater,

turned and rushed back toward the office, calling out as he did so.

O'Brien!

The guards turned as Carlson entered,

and the illusion worked perfectly.

To any reasonable person, there'd been no murder. It had been a suicide.

You know, it might have worked...

except for your medical examiner.

Yeah. It was nearly perfect.

Except in this case, nearly wasn't nearly good enough.

I still wish you'd have let me bring Carol and the kids.

Just to wave good-bye? Dear, no.

I hate public good-byes.

Mrs. Fletcher, I really don't know how I could ever thank you.

Well, first, by finally calling me Jessica,

and, secondly, by starting that book you want to write.

Now, this afternoon is as good a time as any.

Wouldn't I love to.

But I'm afraid I have to deal with reality now, finding a job, paying the rent.

Incidentals. Erica Baldwin gave me a little check...

as a token of her appreciation, don't ask me why.

Considering how shabbily her husband treated you,

I think it's right and proper that you should have it.

No, l-I couldn't. But I want you to.

I've already endorsed it over to you.

There's my plane. Good-bye, Laurie.

Send me a signed first edition.

Absolutely, and thank you.

And you, Bert.

Give the kids another hug and a kiss for me. I will.

See you next year. Okay.

Bye.