All language subtitles for 1MSW01E15 Paint Me A Murder

Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

You're saying that whoever tried to kill you is one of your guests?

- We are completely isolated. - And one of us is the killer.

A painting by a living artist is one thing.

What makes you think I own a Diego painting?

Don't. No. I am sorry. Margo.

My hospitality does not extend to my wife!

I am well aware that I am one of the suspects.

Which is why Diego came to you instead of me.

I, for one, would feel a lot safer if we could find the missing crossbow.

Bravo, Pedro.

The finest donkey I've ever seen.

I think perhaps, the legs are a bit short?

Muy bueno, Linda. Muy bueno.

Excellente!

Well, Carmelita. What have we here?

Look how you've captured his expression. Here. Come with me.

Somehow, Elaine, I doubt there's a budding Picasso in that group.

I wonder why he wastes his time.

As usual, Willard, you miss the point.

It's called sharing your gift with others.

You should try it sometime. My gift?

My gift, my darling, has been buried in the sands of time.

When was my last hit play? What, 10, 12 years ago?

- Happy birthday, amigo. - You're a couple of days early with that toast.

I'm practicing. I'll need it to sound sincere.

Where's Belle? Is she getting her beauty sleep?

- She could use it, poor darling. - You're disgusting.

Darling, if a man makes the effort...

to invite his ex-wife to his 60th birthday party,

the least she could do is to arrive looking modestly presentable.

I think she looks lovely. Aah!

Thank you, Elaine. - Belle, darling,

we're just... we were just talking about you.

You're losing your style, Willard. You used to insult me to my face.

Never complain if you don't like what you hear.

Ha-ha.

I can see this is going to be a hell of a party.

Good morning, everyone.

Good morning. Good morning, Margo.

Bribes to get the little beggars to leave?

Don't give her any ideas, Willard.

Belle, I haven't seen you making the, concert rounds lately.

No. And you know why.

Margo, my dear. Good morning. Buenos dias, Enrique.

Does your husband always make such a hit with the children?

Refreshments. They look scrumptious.

These are for the little children. Okay? Lunch in an hour.

How was your walk? Invigorating.

I don't suppose you'd like to play peacemaker.

There is a minor war breaking out over there on the terrace.

Yes. Diego's taste in old friends is so ecumenical...

it's a wonder any of them speak the same language.

Well, I'll see what I can do, but charming snakes has always been one of my minor talents.

All right, children. Would anyone like cakes and cookies?

Good morning!

Good morning. Henry. Thank God. I'm no longer outnumbered.

If you think I've come to defend you, Willard,

you can guess again. Henry, we were just discussing you.

Is it true that you own one of Diego's paintings?

Actually, no. It's a pencil sketch.

- But I prize it dearly. - Well, then...

that makes three of us who own an original by Diego Santana.

You, me...

- and Willard. - Me?

What makes you think I own a Diego painting?

But didn't you just buy the Gold Madonna from my friends the Ralstons?

Where'd you hear that? - Then it's not true.

- Well, I didn't think so... - All right, Belle, if you must know...

I did buy the Madonna last week.

And, yes, it cost me a great deal.

But let me tell you something, my darling. It was worth every penny.

Which leaves me the only odd one out in the group.

What I wouldn't give to own an original Santana.

What would you do with it, my darling?

I'd sell it. To help feed and clothe a lot of neglected children.

Well, speaking of neglected children, I wonder where Miguel is?

The great man's son hasn't been very sociable, has he?

But, Maria, I can't. I can't leave the island without arousing my father's suspicions.

Especially to see you.

No, Maria. I told you I wanted you to stay away from those people.

Well, give me time.

I don't know. I-I'll try to think of something.

Okay.

Okay.

Sorry to leave so soon, maestro. But we must sail before the tide turns.

Adiós. Adiós.

Gracias por todo. Adiós, ninos.

I see you again next month. And remember, practice.

Especially you, pequena.

!Venga, ninos! !Vamanos todos! !Adiós!

Mrs. J.B. Fletcher? I can hardly wait.

You know her? Only by reputation.

You have a treat in store, Henry. Really? Well, I find most women authors to be cold fish.

Particularly the mystery writers. All this nonsense about bodies buried in rose gardens.

Stefan! It is wonderful.

This was quite... quite a challenge for me.

Creating something worthy of the master himself.

It is the best work you've ever done. It's a labor of love.

Love?

Not love, Margo. Gratitude for his... for his patronage.

It's not love.

In this respect...

you and I are very much alike.

No.

Margo. I am sorry.

Sorry? Sorry? Sorry for what?

Because you-you married a man twice your age?

Because he offered you what... security?

He loves me. And... you love him?

I'll come to the party Sunday evening.

My friends. May I propose a toast.

To my dear friends already here,

and to those who arrive tomorrow, Jessica Fletcher and my valued colleague, Sir John Landry.

It is a rare and lucky man who can reach his 60th birthday...

in the company of so many loving friends who have traveled here...

to this remote island sanctuary to share his happiness and joy.

To my wife, Margo, whom I cherish dearly,

to my son Miguel, who with God's help...

has found his way back from a terrible ordeal with drugs,

and to each of you, thank you.

Cheers. - Hear, hear!

Cheers. Cheers.

And now, if I may, I have a little surprise for one of you.

As you know my dear friend Elaine McComber, has devoted most of her adult life...

to the welfare of underprivileged children throughout the African continent.

She has always had my love and admiration,

but it's time I presented her with a more tangible expression...

of my admiration.

It is customary for the celebrant to receive gifts,

but tonight, I enjoy the privilege of giving.

my God.

It's magnificent.

Diego. I don't know what to say.

Say nothing. God has been good to me.

I only wish to share in his bounty. Thank you.

##

##

Diego?

Diego, are you all right? Yes, yes. I'm fine. I'm fine.

What happened? There, darling. It's nothing.

It's an accident.

This old place needs repairs.

We'll get to them first thing after our guests leave.

Hello!

- Good morning! - Willard, I'm amazed. I didn't know you were a fisherman.

It seems the last of my guests have arrived.

Jessica! Diego.

I'm so glad to see you again. So good to see you.

And you, Sir John. You honor me with your presence.

Nonsense. I wouldn't miss this party for the world.

How was your trip? Delightful. And I hooked up with this charming gentleman...

at Heathrow. Quite by chance.

Diego, you should have warned me that I was gonna be joined by this colonial enchantress.

Allow me to introduce... Belle Chaney,

Henry Kyle... Sir John, you both know...

and this is Mrs. J.B. Fletcher... Jessica to her friends.

A pleasure, Jessica. I'm constantly delighted by your books.

- And you fool me every time. - Well, that-that is the idea, Belle.

- And it's so nice to meet you. - I'm a... I'm afraid I am a stranger to your books, Mrs. Fletcher.

My loss, I'm sure. That's very generous of you, Mr. Kyle.

Willard? Willard!

Willard? Help me! Help!

He's drowning!

Father! What happened?

Well, I'm no doctor, but he could be suffering from a major coronary.

- Well, it certainly looks like it. - I'm going to the mainland with him...

to make sure he's all right. No, but you have the guests.

Miguel, Willard is my responsibility.

Father, allow me to do this for you.

I'll make sure that he's settled in, okay?

I'm grateful. Call me as soon as you can? Yes, I will.

We go back to the villa.

Jessica. After you get settled in, we go for a little walk.

I want to talk to you. Very well.

After Miguel's mother died... Liana, my first wife...

I vowed that one day I would find an island sanctuary,

a place where I could work and commune with my God.

Diego, it is beautiful. You've created a paradise...

right here in the Mediterranean.

I wish it were true, my dear friend.

Jessica. The threat of death hangs over this paradise.

Last night, I was nearly killed. Yes, I'd heard there was an accident.

No accidents. I saw him, Jessica.

A shadowy figure. A quick glimpse as I leaped out of the way.

Well, then, you should notify the police.

And put my attacker on guard? No, Jessica.

I must learn now who is trying to kill me. That is why I need your help.

Me? Diego. Well, your talents as a detective are very well known.

Don't be silly. Now, that Henry Kyle... there is a real detective.

But unlike you and Sir John,

Henry was on the island last night.

Now the villa is directly above this beach.

Now over to the west is a small, treacherous stretch of beach...

known only to a few people, but a small boat might be landed.

Otherwise, the island is inaccessible.

You're saying that whoever tried to kill you is one of your guests?

Yes, my friend. That is exactly what I am saying.

##

Don't stop. I was enjoying it.

Thank you, Elaine. No, no more today.

Well, maybe tomorrow I'll be able to...

manage a chorus of "Happy Birthday."

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll get some fresh air.

What a pity. She was such a promising pianist in her day.

I never heard her play.

I wish I had. Well, Miss McComber,

I hear you are to be congratulated.

A new Diego Santana painting? That's a very handsome gift.

Isn't it? And a total surprise.

You know, I don't know anything about your charitable foundation.

I'm sure it's a very worthy undertaking.

Well, it has "undertaken" most of my adult life, and, yes...

I think it's a worthy cause. Well then, perhaps I, too, can make some small contribution?

Permit me to auction your painting at my London gallery.

Foregoing my usual fees and commission, of course.

Sir John. That's very generous.

Not at all.

Well, well, well. Mrs. Fletcher.

- Imagine finding you up here. - Well, hello again, Inspector Kyle.

- Or is it just Mr. - Whichever you prefer.

What have you found there? A clue? A clue?

What made you think that? Come, come, Mrs. Fletcher.

We've all heard about Diego's so-called accident.

Having a professional policeman's mentality, I couldn't resist examining...

the shattered remnants of the urn.

I noticed these chisel marks.

Marks which, coincidentally,

can also be found on this base.

I'm sure you noticed. As a matter of fact, I did.

Mrs. Fletcher, did Diego confide something in you,

or did you initiate this little investigation on your own?

I'd rather not say.

There's no need to be circumspect, dear lady. I'm well aware that I am one of the suspects.

Which is why Diego came to you instead of me.

After all, the-the attacker could only have been me, Belle, Elaine McComber,

Willard, Miguel, and

Stefan Conrad, the sculptor that lives over that way somewhere.

I think we can eliminate Belle.

She's much too fragile to have pushed this over.

But Elaine McComber's not.

I'd say these urns weigh between, what? 80 and 90 kilos.

Around 170 pounds, yes.

Well, Elaine could have handled that, I suppose.

- But she didn't. - Really.

I found these cigarette butts here.

They were lying on top of the chiseled-out chips from the cement base.

I see! So the smoker was up here after the urn was loosened.

No doubt waiting for Diego to make his nightly appearance strumming his guitar.

And then... Very clever, Mrs. Fletcher.

You know, Inspector, I'm a little surprised that you didn't discover these clues.

The first time I've been up here.

You've beat me to them. But they prove nothing.

Elaine McComber is a heavy smoker.

I also found a pack of matches.

The matches were torn from the left side. Yes.

A left-handed smoker.

Which narrows the list down quite considerably to one:

- Willard Kauffman. - Who perhaps conveniently had a heart attack this morning.

You think he faked it? I didn't think so.

Well, you're not a doctor. What about that sculptor,

Mr. Conrad?

I met him once. Strange fellow.

Something of a recluse. Stefan. Stefan!

Don't you turn your back on me. We have nothing to say.

Yes we have. My hospitality does not extend to my wife.

You insult me, maestro. And you insult Margo as well.

I warning you... You do not warn me!

I will warn you!

Unless I'm very much mistaken, that irate gentleman is right-handed.

Which, as you pointed out, leaves us with Willard Kauffman.

The only left-handed smoker on the island... or, I should say, off the island.

Doctor, are you quite sure?

I see.

Can I speak to Miguel Santana?

Really? No, no. Thank you, Doctor.

What is it?

Miguel disappeared, almost immediately after they arrived at the hospital.

Hasn't been seen since. What about Willard's condition?

Was his attack genuine? Yes. Apparently so.

They found elevated respiration levels, rapid and irregular heartbeats...

At the moment, he's resting comfortably.

I think we should talk to Diego.

Willard? I can't believe it.

Why? Because he is jealous of you, Diego.

He has always envied your success.

I'm sorry, Margo. I find it hard to recognize...

the darker side of my fellow man.

Particularly those who are close to me.

Diego, we're merely making an educated guess. We have no proof.

I understand.

May I ask you, please... both of you...

not a word of this to the others.

Well, I do think that the police should question him.

No, no, no, no. I will not have this incident mar this celebration.

As a hunting weapon, it is unequaled.

Swift, silent, accurate, powerful.

At 50 yards, it can drive a bolt clear through a pheasant.

How delightful! I see Diego is showing off his toy again, Sir John.

Actually, Miguel is the expert.

He is a true magician with this instrument.

But you're right on his heels. The little boy in you dies hard, Diego.

Bellísima, you have always known me the best.

I know we're supposed to be civilized, but damn it all, Diego, I don't understand you three.

Husband, wife, ex-wife... How do you pull it off?

- Love, Sir John. Try it. It's contagious. - Really?

Belle, would you play something for us? No, I couldn't.

Belle, please. No, please.

Come on. You play something dreadfully sentimental.

A little Chopin?

Jessica, I have just spoken on the radiophone...

to the... some very reliable friends in London. And?

## For the past several months, Willard has been quietly buying up...

Diego Santana paintings. But I thought Mr. Kauffman was dead broke.

Where did he get the money?

Why? Well, the why is obvious, Henry.

Or I don't understand the art world.

A painting by a living artist is one thing.

But the same painting by an artist suddenly dead, is quite another.

## - Belle! What is it?

Let me, Sir John.

What happened? I don't know. It sounded lovely to me,

but... I suppose once you've achieved perfection...

It's really awfully sad.

Like Willard Kauffman, I suppose.

Willard? I was remembering that wonderful play he wrote.

About a dozen years ago.

And then, nothing since. Yeah.

Sir John, were you aware...

that Willard was buying up Diego's paintings?

Really? Well, I hadn't heard.

I thought if anyone would know, you would.

Well, actually, Jessica, apart from this morning, I haven't seen Willard since,

the Derby at Epsom in April.

Where I'm afraid he was finding it difficult to...

raise enough money to make a decent bet.

Excuse me. Good night. Good night!

Good night, Sir John.

Belle. Listen to me.

It was lovely. Really it was.

Please, Elaine.

It was our fault. We shouldn't have insisted you play.

I'm sorry.

Your hands. It wasn't my hands.

I looked over at Margo, and I saw the way she was looking at Diego.

The same way I used to look at him.

I'm sorry, Elaine. I've been trying very hard for the past three days.

But I guess I'm not sophisticated enough to play this charade, that's all.

Come on! Come on.

A boat. How odd.

Henry?

Henry! Jessica.

What are you doing out here? I've been looking all over for you.

You seem very out of breath. I've been hurrying.

When I found you were missing, I got rather worried.

What is it? You seem upset about something. Well, I have to get back to the villa.

Jessica, don't keep anything from me, please.

Well, I must talk to Diego.

Elaine!

My God. What's happened?

He's dead!

I'll go back to the house and get some help.

Diego! No!

My God.

Come. I think I should be with him.

- No, Belle. We must find Margo. - Find me for what?

Margo?

Who-Who could have done this?

I'll go and call the mainland. Thank you, Sir John.

All right.

So much for our theory about Willard Kauffman.

The radio has been smashed beyond repair.

We are completely isolated.

You mean trapped, don't you, Sir John?

- And one of us is the killer. - Now look, ladies and gentlemen,

things are not quite as desperate as they seem.

For one thing, Miguel may return from the mainland.

Or, he may try to raise us on the radiophone without success,

in which case he may decide to investigate.

And if not? If not, we will simply wait until tomorrow morning!

When the helicopter will arrive to return us to the mainland.

I'm sorry. Like you, I am not delighted at the prospect of spending another night...

on this island, but I'm afraid at the moment we have no choice.

Well, I for one would feel a lot safer if we could find the missing crossbow.

So will I. I will help you look.

All right.

Anyone else? Henry? You go ahead, Sir John.

All right.

And what was all that about? Or did you merely have a speck of dust in your eye?

Henry, I'm not sure that I can trust you.

Bravo, Jessica. Spoken like a seasoned... But I don't have any choice.

Now, there's a killer loose on this island, and despite what Belle said,

it is not necessarily one of us.

What? Come on.

The boat was beached just... just below here.

Hey, you!

Stop!

Jessica! The package!

Miguel.

Paintings!

Yes! And each one signed by Diego Santana.

And each one stolen from Diego Santana.

Why, Miguel? Why did you have to kill him?

Margo, I swear to the Holy Mother.

- I didn't even know he was dead. - You came back.

You sneaked onto this island. To get the paintings, yes.

But not to kill him. Maria called.

That's why I went back with the helicopter.

- To be with her. - But your father ordered you not to see that girl.

There was a warrant for her arrest.

She needed money, so the lawyer could bribe some important officials.

Do you think he'd have given me the money? For her?

I came back for the paintings.

- I swear I didn't kill him. - Really?

Well, I for one find that rather hard to believe.

Here is the murder weapon, Henry.

- And there is the marksman. - I didn't shoot him.

Excuse me, but it seems to me if Miguel were guilty,

wouldn't he have taken the weapon with him to the boat, Henry?

- Perhaps. - You people are thinking crazy.

I had no reason to kill my father.

Why should I?

Margo gets everything! And considering what's stored...

- in the workshop out back... - What workshop? What are you talking about?

Several dozen new paintings.

In the stone building behind the house.

Diego had been working very hard this past year.

I had no idea. No one did.

Surely you're not accusing your stepmother of murder?

I'm only saying there's a lot of people in this room who stood more to gain...

by my father's death than I did.

And that includes you, Sir John. Look here, boy...

Your gallery must own at least a dozen original Diego Santana paintings.

Each one worth triple what they were only this morning. Are you aware of that?

Miguel! No!

You know, I'm sure there's some perfectly good reason for this...

impressive display of seaside gardening.

Well, a thought came to me.

Yes, I thought you were rather quiet up at the house.

I could almost hear the wheels turning.

Well, I can't help but think there might be some connection...

between Willard's unexpected heart attack and that first attempt on Diego's life.

The falling urn. Yes.

What connection?

Well, supposing Willard's coronary were something else.

A drug-induced attack, that simulated a heart seizure.

I mean, it could have been caused by amyl nitrate.

I think that seems a bit far-fetched, but...

even assuming you're right, why would he do such a thing?

Panic. I mean, he failed in his attempt on Diego.

He had to get off the island. And this was the escape route that he could come up with.

Jessica! Diego was killed early this morning.

Willard was taken off the island yesterday morning,

and as far as we know, he's been hospitalized ever since.

As far as we know.

A-ha! What's that?

A broken ampule.

If I'm not mistaken, it contained amyl nitrate.

Henry?

Stefan Conrad still hasn't returned from the search.

And Margo tells me he has a small raft...

stashed away behind his cottage.

He used it sometimes for fishing. Better take a look.

Well, I'll go with you. No!

No, it could be dangerous. Go back to the house, look after Margo.

Inspector.

The raft is missing. You sure?

Yes. Did you find anything inside? Pretty well cleaned out.

Well, that's it then. Conrad has left this island.

By the time we're able to notify the authorities, he will be thousands of miles away.

Fire! Henry! Fire! Fire!

Get the hose, Miguel!

My God! The paintings!

Bring up the hose!

Miguel! Quickly!

Is she alive? I don't know.

Let's get her into the house.

Now, Margo. Try and tell us what happened.

I don't... I do not know.

Tell us what you can. I could not sleep, so l... I went outside for a walk.

I thought I heard someone... in the shed, and...

the door was open, and-and the,

the lock had been smashed.

I saw that a... small fire had been started in the corner.

I started inside.

Suddenly, somebody grabbed me from behind, and I felt an arm around my neck.

I-I could not breathe.

The person who attacked you... was it a man?

I did not see. But the arm. Was it a man's arm, or a woman's arm?

Man's, I think. It was very strong.

Margo, I'd like to try a little experiment, and I need your cooperation.

It's very important. All right.

Come and stand over here.

All right? Now, try to remember.

Now, you said that someone came up behind you and grabbed you.

How? Like this?

No, I don't think so. Then, like this?

Yes, that's it. Just like that.

Jessica. What does it mean?

It means that Margo's assailant was right-handed.

- Is that so unusual? - No, just unexpected.

Well, it's too dark to locate anyone now.

We'll have to wait till daybreak. By which time,

Stefan Conrad will have made his real escape from this island.

- Stefan? - Who else? Margo, don't you see?

He never left the island. He was just waiting for his chance to destroy those paintings...

out of some insane jealousy.

Stefan would not do that. He is not a killer.

There is something all of you should know.

Stefan is a refugee from Bulgaria.

He is a scientist...

who defected over 10 years ago.

He changed his identity, and he went into hiding.

But the Bulgarian Secret Police are still looking for him.

He is on their death list.

Then it must have been Stefan who disabled the radio.

- To give himself time to escape. - Yes, I am sure. That is it, I'm sure.

Escape, why? If he were innocent...

Because, Belle. Once the police started questioning everyone here,

his real identity was sure to come out.

And with a death threat hanging over him, he felt he had to run.

Sir John! - Completely gutted.

A year in a man's life.

Dozens of priceless treasures...

incinerated in a matter of minutes. It's a tragic loss.

Yeah. For all we know, there might have been another Gold Madonna in that batch.

Though selfishly, of course, I shouldn't complain.

I was thinking of selling it, but now... Now I'll keep it in remembrance of a good friend.

Yes. A sentimental remembrance whose value will increase the longer you hold on to it.

Right, Sir John?

I don't think he meant that.

Poor Miguel. It must be very difficult for a young man of limited talents...

to live in the shadow of a true genius.

Then, of course, that is no longer a problem for him now, is it?

Excuse me.

Jessica.

Don't you think you ought to get some sleep?

Henry, I believe that we were wrong about Willard Kauffman.

By that, l...

I mean, I don't believe that he sneaked back on the island and shot Diego.

That always was a bit unlikely, wasn't it?

Nor do I believe that Diego was shot by Stefan Conrad.

You know who's responsible, don't you?

Yes, I do.

What time is the helicopter coming to pick us up?

Around 10:00. Why?

Hello? Margo? Anyone up?

Good morning, Sir John.

Good morning, Jessica.

Well, I was afraid that everybody was sleeping in.

Saw the helicopter through the window. Well, are you packed?

Packed? No. No, no.

No, we won't be leaving for a while. The police will have questions.

Yeah, but nothing that concerns us. I mean, in spite of Margo's misplaced faith...

we both know that Stefan Conrad is our culprit.

No, Sir John. I'm afraid we both know...

that Stefan did not shoot Diego with a crossbow.

I beg your pardon? I said we both know that you killed Diego Santana.

I ki...

Jessica! No, I mean, I'm a great admirer of your intellectual gifts, but...

have you forgotten?

The time when the killer was trying to bounce that concrete urn off Diego's head...

you and I were having tea at the Barcelona airport.

I remember. But the first attempt on Diego's life...

was made by Willard Kauffman.

You don't say.

The urn was pushed off the ledge by a left-handed smoker.

Willard fits that description. The person who shot Diego...

and later tried to kill Margo in the shed was right-handed.

Now, we proved that by a simple demonstration, with Margo's cooperation.

I confess. I'm right-handed.

But why on earth would I want to kill Diego?

To make a fortune, when the price of his paintings shot up.

I suspect that you and Mr. Kauffman have been working together for quite some time.

Really, Jessica! It's general knowledge...

that Willard's been in debt for a number of years.

I mean, how can a man without resources buy up valuable artworks?

He can't, unless he's acting for someone else.

You see, I think that when he came to this island,

he was acting under your orders to kill Diego.

The death was to look like an accident.

Except that something went wrong.

The following morning, Kauffman was unable to face the wrath of his arriving partner.

That's why he faked the heart attack.

To give himself a graceful way off the island.

Leaving you to finish the job.

My dear lady, you know, this is beginning to sound like...

a plot from one of your... dreadful books.

John, I believe her.

Thank you, Belle.

This confrontation is beginning to take on a sexist overtone.

The other morning, Willard admitted to us...

that he had bought the Gold Madonna from two of my old friends.

We were all surprised, because we also knew that Willard was hurting for money.

That's right. I was there.

I heard it too, John.

Well, then, Willard must have been lying.

Was he? Well, that should be easy enough to check.

Sir John? Curious thing about that Gold Madonna.

Last night, you told Jessica that that painting was yours.

That it was actually hanging in your London gallery.

Well, really, old man, how can that be if Willard owns it?

Well, if you... If you really want to know,

I bought it from Willard in the last few days.

Just before he left to come here. Not true.

The other night, you asked me about Willard. You said you hadn't seen him since April.

- The Derby race at Epsom? - Sir John.

I'm afraid your little game has come to an end.

I used the helicopter radio to contact the mainland authorities,

and they're going to be asking some pretty sharp questions.

I welcome any interrogations.

Except they're not going to be asking you, Sir John.

Not yet.

They're on their way to the hospital right now.

How do you think good old Willard's going to react when he finds out that he's an accessory to murder?

I'm afraid, Sir John, he won't remain silent long.

- Not if he's gonna save his own skin. - Well, now.

Is this where I... draw the gun and say...

"You're never gonna take me alive"?

It would be rather futile, wouldn't it?

Why, John?

He was your friend. He loved you.

But I loved him too, Margo.

But you see...

Willard was not the only one who was broke.

The art business is very volatile.

Subject to the whims of a tasteless public.

I was in grave danger of losing everything.

Everything.

You do see my problem, don't you?

Allow me to help you with your bag. Thank you.

Good-bye, Jessica. Good-bye, Belle.

Thank you. Good-bye. Take care. Good-bye, Elaine.

Good-bye, Jessica. Jessica!

Well, the trip back's going to be a bit dreary without you.

Henry. What a delightful compliment.

But I really do think I should spend a few days here with Margo.

Of course. Still it's a bit unfair, you know?

A stimulating relationship ending before it's had a chance to begin?

Actually, Henry, I was planning to stop over in London...

on my way home to the States. Were you? How delightful!

I'm going to visit a cousin. How ghastly boring.

Well, perhaps I could find a few hours.

Or a few evenings?

I shall be at the airport to greet you.

Flowers in hand, heart on sleeve,

and perhaps a murder to solve? Please. No.

Well, in our business...

you never know.