All language subtitles for Murder.She.Wrote.S07E07.The.Return.of.Preston.Giles.WEBRip.x264-ION10

I'm bringing back the man
who started the company.

Preston Giles? He's in jail for murder.

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Start with J.B. Fletcher.

She's the one who put me behind bars.

Preston?

Forgive me for surprising you like this.

No! No! Stay away from me!

[sneezes]

You seem to have some sort of allergy.

I'm allergic to you.

Breakfast tomorrow, if you wish.

I think it's best if... if we didn't.

Apparently crime does pay.

Get out of my sight!

[cheerful orchestral music]

[man] Al, you're killing me.

Look, all we're talking is
another 5,000 copies.

End of the month. You have my word.

Al, Al?

Al, why don't you let me worry
about the paper suppliers?

You stick to the printing
and the binding, okay?

Okay, thanks, buddy.

Yeah, you're a prince.

Bastard.

You were supposed
to come home two days ago.

Yeah, well, if you'd return my calls,
you'd know why I didn't.

I had my hands full, remember?

And?

Kendall's nervous.

I don't blame him.

If I were refinancing you
and that broken-down operation

to the tune of $20 million,
I'd want some assurances that

it wasn't going into chapter 11
before the ink dried.

-I told you--
-Spare me, Ross.

It's all smoke.

The blockbuster titles,
the name writers coming back--

-Linette--
-Please!

You know, I should have gone
with my instincts

and not mixed business with family.

No, instead, I had to put
my job on the line

to keep you from sinking
into the East River.

Damn it, Ross, there is more
to taking over a company than just--

Save the sermon, will you, Linette?

Your boss and I go back a few semesters.

He never would have touched
this deal if he thought it

might embarrass him or the bank
or his neurotic little wife.

Now, trust me.

Sutton Place Publishing is
about to regain its image

as the A-1 class act
in the bestseller business.

How, with mirrors?

You might say that, yeah.

A mirror to the past.

I'm bringing back the man
who started the company.

Preston Giles?

He's in jail for murder.

Not for long.

I spent the better part of a month
pulling strings and calling in markers.

He gets out on parole Tuesday.

[dramatic music]

I understand.
No, believe me, I understand.

[gate clattering]

He's coming out. I have to go.

Hey, trust me, this is going to work.

A couple of weeks from now,

you and I are gonna have a big monkey
off our back thanks to Mr. Preston Giles.

Yeah. Call you later.

[Ross] Mr. Giles.

Ross McKay.

I have been looking forward
to this moment, sir.

Mr. McKay.

What do you say we begin
by dropping the "misters"?

Welcome aboard, Preston.

Well, thank you, Ross.

Look, I understand.

You were totally up front
with me in your letters.

All I ask is that you keep an open mind

because I'm going to prove
that you're wrong about me.

And, what the hell,

worst case scenario, it's got to be better
than another eight or ten years in there.

Right?

Forgive me.

I guess this is going to take
some getting used to.

Mmm, okay. So you don't like my style.

And maybe Sutton Place Publishing
isn't what it used to be.

Nobody's perfect.

On the other hand,
I wasn't jailed for murder.

I'm sorry, that was uncalled for.

Listen, if I hadn't
pulled off my takeover,

then some fifth-rate greenmail operator

who never read a book
in his life would have.

Sutton Place Publishing would be history
by now and you'd still be inside.

So are we still on?

Yes, we're on.

End of discussion.

You know, Preston,

whether you believe me or not,
I am deadly serious about this,

about returning Sutton Place Publishing
to the kind of class act you ran,

something you can be proud of.

And I'm convinced that together,
we can pull it off.

Okay.

So, as we discussed,

we need to get some
quality product in the pipeline,

which means that we have to restore
our list of first-class writers.

We start with J.B. Fletcher.

Jessica?

She's the lynchpin.

Look, during your watch,
Sutton Place Publishing

was known for its quality mysteries.

You nail her,

I know of a dozen top writers
that'll come flocking back.

Well, I don't know, Ross.

What's to know?

Well, she's the one
who put me behind bars.

So what?

You launched the woman's career.
She's your discovery.

She owes you and she knows it.

[Linette] Ross, about this weekend.

I'm gonna to have to go out
to Long Island.

I've got to meet with some
investors from California.

Wonderful.

Be sure and give Kendall
my regards, won't you?

Mr. McKay, I'm sorry,

one of our paper suppliers
is on line four.

They're refusing delivery
unless they get a check.

Tell them to hold.

Linette, [sighs] I am getting
a little tired of your excuses--

Ross, it's business.

Stop behaving like a jealous schoolboy.

[knock on door]

Linette, I need to talk to you
about the Felson merger.

Of course, Mr. Stafford.

[giggles]

Darling, I've got a meeting
in five minutes.

Besides, we have the whole weekend
to look forward to.

Oh, that's off, I'm afraid, Lin.

Millie volunteered my services
as toastmaster for the Hunt Club Ball,

forgot to tell me about it
until this morning.

Oh.

Well, that's probably just as well.

My husband needs my help

preparing for next week's audit.

I hope that's all the help
you're giving him.

I'm sure it's no more
than you're giving your wife.

Mr. Giles.

Mr. Whitcomb just called.
He said he's running late.

Oh? I thought I asked you
to move that meeting back to 4:00

and shift Carruthers to Monday.

Oh, dear, yes, yes, you did,

and I did write it down somewhere.

Gloria, you're having a problem,
aren't you,

-working with me?
-Problem? I...

No, no, Mr. Giles.

I know it's silly of me, but--

Forgive me.

I should have been
more sensitive of the situation.

Look, if you'd prefer to leave,
I'd certainly understand.

Oh, no, no, I'd much rather stay.

But you have to understand, Mr. Giles.

I know it's irrational,
but everything frightens me.

Crossing the street, riding the subway.

That doesn't sound irrational to me.

Oh.

I'm your basic frightened person,
but I'm working on it.

I read books on the subjects.

I take classes.

I--I try and psych myself.

So if you'll just be patient with me.

Well.

I see that Ross has chosen
to ignore my advice.

Apparently, crime does pay.

Seems to have paid for you, Martin.

You're as predictable as ever, Preston.

May I remind you

that your accusations
against me were never proven

because they were totally without merit.

Believe me, Martin,

if I hadn't gotten myself in trouble,

I not only would have proven them,

I'd have seen to it that
you were locked up as you deserve.

Now, what did you want to see me about?

I suppose it's to be expected
that your years of incarceration

have nurtured your paranoia.

Believe it or not, I am not
the cause of all your problems.

I know that.

I have no one but myself to blame

for the mess I made
of my life and this company.

You got that right.

But the miserable state of its finances
when I went to prison

can only be laid at your feet, Martin.

You made it vulnerable to a predator
like Ross McKay in the first place.

Now, get out of my sight

before I say or do something
I'll be sorry for!

I said get out, now!

Piece of advice, Preston.

Don't be misled by your title.

I'm Senior VP and controller now

and a member of the board of directors.

And I suggest you keep a lid
on your opinions

and, if possible, on your temper.

Martin, we need to talk.

Ross, there you are.

I've been trying to touch base
with you since Monday morning.

The advertising copy
for Drums on the Amazon,

um, I'm sorry, Ross,
but it's tacky and exploitive,

totally counter to the image
we should be projecting.

I've called you, sent memos.

I'm sorry, Preston.

Your messages must have fallen
between the cracks.

I promise you, though,

that you and I are gonna spend
some serious time together

before the weekend.

Almost forgot,

a royalty check for J.B. Fletcher.

The Corpse Danced at Midnight.

I understand you're going
to be contacting her.

I'm going to try.
I'm not at all certain she'll see me.

Nonsense, Preston.

I'm sure your years in prison

did nothing to diminish
your legendary charm.

[sighs]

[laughing]

You know, Mrs. J.B. Fletcher,

you could be a very disruptive
influence in my life.

Well, only my students call me
Mrs. Fletcher, Mr. Giles.

Oh, and Mr. Giles

is that stuffed shirt
in the three-piece suit

I left back in New York.

Good afternoon, Mrs. Fletcher.

Good afternoon.

Caught your interview on the morning show.
Your new book sounds terrific.

Well, thank you. Believe me, Mr. Phelps,

it's a lot easier to write
a book than to promote it. [chuckles]

Jessica?

Preston?

Hello, Jess.

Forgive me for surprising you like this.

Surprising me?

I'm in shock.

I thought you were...

Still in prison?

Look, Jess, I'm terribly sorry.

I should have called you.

Here, perhaps if we sat down.

Oh, thank you. No, no, no,
I'll be all right, really...

I just need a moment.

Of course.

The truth is,
I was afraid that if I called you,

you'd refuse to see me.

And I wanted to very much
to see you again face to face.

Well, I--I'm not so sure
that's a good idea.

Yes, well that seems
more apparent by the second.

I'm sorry. Forgive me for intruding.

Preston.

Maybe it would be best
if we... if we did talk.

One of my regrets, Jess, one of my many,

is that you didn't come
into my life sooner.

I was so full of anger.

A good deal of it
directed toward me, I'm sure.

For uncovering my guilt?
I suppose so, at first.

Could I have escaped punishment
if you hadn't been there?

Perhaps from the law,

but not from here.

The monstrousness of what I did,

the awful knowledge that
in my anger and then in fear,

I took the lives of two people,

it hasn't left my thoughts for a moment.

It never will.

Preston, why did you come looking for me?

What is it you want?

I'd almost forgotten that
refreshing directness of yours.

I was going to ask you
to leave your current publisher

and come back to Sutton Place.

Oh, I see.

I'm on parole thanks
to a man named Ross McKay.

I know who he is.

No, he's not one
of my favorite people, either.

But he was my ticket out of prison.

I'd have dealt with the devil
to get out of that place.

Come to think of it, maybe I did.

Preston, earlier you said that

you were going to ask me
to leave my current publisher?

I was.

And on the way here, I changed my mind.

Ross and his wife, Linette,
are having a small dinner party

at his townhouse tomorrow evening.

I was supposed to lure you there,

ply you with flattery and promises,

at which point,
Ross would produce a check.

Sounds very cold-blooded, doesn't it?

Very.

Funny.

I tried to convince myself
I could make a difference,

that I could revive whatever remained
of the publishing company's reputation.

It's become clear I was deluding myself.

What probably best characterizes Ross
is his choice of VP controller,

the same man I caught embezzling
six and a half years ago,

which reminds me. Here's a royalty check.

The Corpse Danced at Midnight.

Oh. Thank you.

Anyway, Jess, I've decided
to bid the job and Ross goodbye.

What can I say, Jess, except thank you.

Will you be all right?

Either I'll find a job
with someone else or...

there are a lot of books
I never got around to reading

in the prison library.

I wish you the best.

If there is something that I can do...

No, no, please. Thanks, anyway.

This is all moving just too fast

for a widow woman from Maine.

Oh!

[breathing heavily]

[Ross] Okay.

I'd be lying if I said
I wasn't disappointed.

But I've been there before.

[Preston] Ross, you don't--

Believe me, with the kind
of deals we're offering...

-Ross.
-They're all gonna come around,

including J.B. Fletcher.

No, she won't.
Anyway, that's not why I'm here.

I'm quitting, Ross, effective immediately.

Don't be a fool.

I appreciate the opportunity. I really do.

But it's clear I don't belong here.

You figured that out in, what, ten days?

You're crazy, pal, you know that?

Or have you forgotten that your parole

happens to be conditional
on your continued employment?

I'll take my chances.

You don't think I meant what I said
about turning this place around.

That's it, isn't it?

I'm sure you believe it, Ross.

[sighs]

Man, I must be losing my touch.

[sighs]

Look, Preston, maybe you're right.

Maybe I was the fool
to think I could ever match

the standards you set for this company.

I guess I was hoping
that having you around,

maybe some of your style would,
you know, rub off on me.

All right.

Do me a favor, though, will you?

-Just give it a month.
-Ross, I don't--

Excuse me. Mr. McKay, your meeting.

Tell them to wait.

Yes, sir.

One month.

Oh, Dorothy,
you better make that two hours

for Mr. Giles and myself on Friday.

By then, we'll have everything aired out
and if you still want to leave, you leave.

Deal?

-Deal.
-Wonderful.

By the way,
how's that presentation coming along?

You know, for the new investors.

It still needs, oh, five, six hours work.
I'll have it for you tomorrow afternoon.

No good.

The meeting's been moved up.

I'm going to need it
first thing in the morning.

-[bell dings]
-Listen, I hate to ask, but...

Not much on my social calendar these days.

I'll work on it tonight.

Preston, you're a prince.

I'll make it up to you, I promise.

Mr. Giles, Mrs. Fletcher just called.

She'd like to speak to you
as soon as possible.

-Oh.
-Jess?

Preston, you really didn't
have to come over.

I only called you to have you stop payment
on that royalty check.

Are you sure you're all right?

Oh, yes. Except for
a few minor bruises, I'm fine.

I feel responsible for this.

I should have seen you to your door.

Well, I doubt that would have
made much difference.

Well, have you notified the police?

Oh, yes. They just left.
I couldn't help them very much.

I didn't get a look at the man's face.

And all he took was your handbag?

Yes. It had some cash, credit cards,

the check that you gave me.

Now, he'd opened the drawer
where I kept my jewelry.

I must have interrupted him,
because he never took it.

Well, I'll tell accounting
to issue a fresh check.

Thank you. They can send it
on to me in Cabot Cove.

Or I could deliver it
at breakfast tomorrow, if you wish.

Preston, I think it's best
if... if we didn't do that.

As you wish.

Look, I told you about it
this morning, Millie.

I know that, Kendall,
but I was just hoping that...

well, you know,
that maybe you'd changed your mind.

It's been such a long time
since we've been to the opera together,

and I made dinner reservations
at Gasparis.

Don't you understand?
I'm up to my eyeballs.

I've been up to my eyeballs for weeks.

I just thought that--

That's your trouble,
my darling, you don't think.

Kendall, now, I'm getting a little tired

of being nothing more
than your personal piggy bank.

Now, we have a marriage,

and I'm not going to let that be destroyed

by anything or anyone.

Now, don't push me.

Sorry, I guess I'm just a little tired.

Of course you are.

Don't work too late.

Kendall, what the hell is this all about?

Hello, Linette.

Millie.

I suppose that you're going
to be working late too.

What did she want?

My body.

She was plying me with opera tickets
and my favorite pasta.

I told her she'd have to wait in line.

Really? Well, she's welcome
to it right now.

Linette, for God's sake, I'm only kidding.

-What's the problem?
-This. What do you mean

you can't hold
the Denver Group any longer?

You knew very well how much time
Ross was going to need.

And besides, whose deal is it, anyway?

Who do you think has been
holding this together?

My God, you're sexy when you're angry.

I heard about Mrs. Fletcher's brush
with that mugger.

She's lucky she wasn't seriously hurt.

Yes, she was.

These people seem to have
less and less regard for their victims.

But then, we're living
in such violent times.

I'm rather busy just now, Martin.

Oh, no problem.

I was about to call it a night myself.

I wanted you to know,
we'll be cutting a fresh check

for Mrs. Fletcher in the morning.

It'll be mailed to Cabot Cove
per your instructions.

Good night, Mr. Bergman.

Good night, Miss Winslow.

Here are those letters, Mr. Giles.

Will you be needing me for anything else?

Only this presentation, Gloria.
Would you mind running off 15 copies?

Of course not.

[suspenseful music]

[screaming]

Gloria?

No! No! Stay away from me!

[screaming]

Jessica, I swear
I did not kill Martin Bergman.

I want to believe you, Preston.

I know, I know.
You'd be a fool to simply take my word.

But can you give me any reason
why I should? I mean, anything?

A detail that you might have overlooked,

something that you might have been doing,
someone you might have seen,

anything to put you
in your office when he was stabbed?

No, nothing.
I've gone over it a hundred times.

Preston, you told me something

that doesn't make sense.

You said that Martin Bergman
embezzled funds in your company

and yet you never pressed charges.

My lawyers and accountants
told me I'd never make it stick.

His swindle was so Byzantine,

it would have taken
a team of auditors years to unravel.

Besides, he threatened me with blackmail.

Oh, he didn't have anything,
nothing concrete.

He said he checked up on my past,

found a lot of unanswered questions.

Well, you know all about that.

Anyway, it was a Mexican standoff.

I had him, all right,

but I didn't want him digging
into my past,

so I simply fired him
and got on with business.

But according to the newspapers,

you threatened to kill him
at a cocktail party

in front of witnesses, Preston.

In a fit of temper, yes.

Jessica, the man stole nearly $3 million.

I'd built the company from scratch.

We were profitable, highly respected.

But then suddenly we found ourselves

in deep financial trouble.

And a short time later, two men were dead,

including a blackmailing
private detective.

Finish the thought.

If I could kill two men

for interfering with my life,
why not a third?

Oh, please. Don't try to read my mind.

At this point, it just isn't possible.

Look, Jess, it was good of you
to come down here.

But even if you believe me,

I realize this is not your problem.

What do you mean, how's it goin'?

It's goin' lousy, that's how it's goin'.

And I got this lady writer runnin' around,
makin' a royal pain out of herself.

Later.

Excuse me, Sergeant.
I just wanted to thank you

for arranging for me to see Mr. Giles.
It was very kind of you.

Come here. Close the door.

Sit down.

[sneezes]

Bless you.

Thanks. [blows nose]

So what'd he tell you?

Well, actually,
it was a private conversation.

What are you, his priest? His lawyer?

You got no confidential
privilege here, lady.

Very well. As soon as
you serve me with a subpoena,

I'll be happy to answer
any questions that I can.

But in the meantime--

According to your statement,

you had lunch with Giles
yesterday from 12:45 to 2:15.

I don't suppose you want
to tell me about that, either?

No, I don't.

Well, if there's nothing else,
Sergeant, I'll--

I'll let you know
when we get that subpoena.

Excuse me, Sergeant.

Is this a picture of the murder victim?

[sneezes]

Yeah, that's him. What is it?

Well, that bandage on his right hand...

[blows nose]

Guess he cut himself. Why?

Sergeant, this may be coincidental,

but I was mugged
yesterday afternoon in my hotel room.

I didn't see the man's face,

but I scratched his right hand
in the struggle, and--

Ten-to-one he's the guy
you scratched, right?

Mrs. Fletcher, are you by any chance

having to deal with 62 unsolved
homicides since January 1?

Well, of course not.

I am, and I am not about to welcome
any of your amateurish interference

for which, if I may say so,

you're already legendary
around this department.

Well, I had no intention
of interfering, Sergeant.

-It simply crossed my mind that--
-Okay, okay.

What do you figure

a 52-year-old controller
for a major publishing company

is doin' moonlighting as a mugger?

Well, I haven't got the faintest idea,

except that Mr. Bergman supposedly issued

a royalty check to me
and it was in my handbag.

Incidentally, that was
the only item that was stolen.

Supposedly?

What, you don't know
if it was in your bag?

I mean that I don't know
that it was a check.

I never looked in the envelope.

You're sayin' you think Bergman
gave Giles the wrong envelope,

and he wants it back for some reason,
so he mugs you for it.

Oh, I really don't know
what I'm thinking, Sergeant.

Mrs. Fletcher, you're talkin'
major understatement here.

Besides which,
why wouldn't he just ask you for it?

Well, perhaps he didn't want me
to see the contents.

Oh, man. You know what I think?

I think you've been plonked
in front of your typewriter

for too long crankin' out
those books of yours.

I mean, none of this
has any connection whatsoever

to the murder,
for which your pal, Preston Giles,

had both opportunity and motive,

and we got witnesses who will testify
Giles threatened to kill Bergman.

Sergeant, that was seven years ago.

Wrong, Mrs. Fletcher. Yesterday afternoon.

His secretary's gonna testify

she saw him come within an inch
of assaulting the victim.

Oh.

Guess he didn't tell you that, huh?

But then, hey, what can you expect?

The guy should have never been
let out on the street again.

And wouldn't have if it weren't for
a lot of big bucks and political clout.

And now, if you'll excuse me,

I got 62 other cases that need solving.

[sneezes]

Call me Ross, Mrs. Fletcher.

I can't tell you how delighted I am
you were able to come.

I hope this means
you've also changed your mind

about returning
to Sutton Place Publishing.

Well, I'm giving it some thought, Ross.

Jessica Fletcher.
I'm Millie Bingham Stafford.

Oh.

I was thrilled
when Ross told me you'd be here.

Your books are positively delicious.

Oh, what a lovely thing to say. Thank you.

Millie's husband is
my wife's slave-driving boss.

[Millie] A dyed-in-the-wool workaholic.

Last night, I went to dinner
alone at some chicken emporium

and then went off to the opera alone,

while my husband played monopoly
on the Hong Kong stock market,

or so he claims.

When he and Linette
have their heads together,

it's hard to tell what they're up to,
isn't that right, Ross?

[chuckles] Now, Millie,
you and I are both too attractive

to worry about something like that.

Besides, Kendall would rather make a buck
than a pass any day.

Ah, speaking of our missing spouses.

[laughing]

Jessica Fletcher, this is Linette,
my wife and favorite investment banker,

not necessarily in that order.

How nice to meet you, Mrs. McKay.

Thank you.

Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher.

[overlapping chatter]

[piano music playing, indistinct chatter]

Jessica, there you are.

Oh. I'm just taking in
your marvelous view.

You know, that is the way
Manhattan should be enjoyed.

So may I assume
you've decided to accept our offer?

Well, your terms are
certainly very generous, Ross.

But my attorneys would never forgive me
if I didn't discuss it with them first.

Of course.

I hope you'll understand if I ask you

not to talk about any of this
for the next day or two.

A very difficult assignment, Jessica.

[chuckles] Yes, of course.
You have my word.

You know, in a way,

I feel as though
I were responsible for all this,

this sorry business at the office.

Maybe if I hadn't worked so hard
to get Preston paroled,

poor Martin would still be alive.

Tell me, Ross,

when you hired Mr. Bergman
to come into your company,

were you aware of the problems

that he and Preston had had in the past?

Certainly. But Martin Bergman
was a superb administrator.

He was the right man for the job,
as Preston was for his.

Come on now, Jessica,

isn't conflict
what motivates your stories,

the engine that drives your character?

Oh, yes, it is.

Well, it's no different in business,

only we call it competition.

Keeping the energy high
and keeping the creative juices bubbling.

Unfortunately, in this case,
the pot seems to have boiled over.

Yes, perhaps.

Are you saying Giles didn't do it?

I'm not sure.
I have a feeling, an instinct.

Maybe there's more to it.

Jessica, if you'll permit me,

given his present situation,

Preston is apt to say anything
to get himself off the hook.

Yes, maybe you're right.

The man has already been
convicted of two murders.

Look, I know how painful
this must be for you

and how badly you'd like it
to have a happy ending.

I just hope for your sake that
you're not deluding yourself.

[Ross] The man has already been
convicted of two murders.

[Sergeant] But then, hey,
what can you expect?

The guy should have never been
let out on the street again

in the first place.

[Ross] Look, I know how painful
this must be for you.

I just hope for your sake that
you're not deluding yourself.

[Jessica] I'd hoped I was wrong.

I'm sorry, Jess.

I truly am.

Another time, a different place,

we might have had something.

[Preston] The subject was blackmailed.

Driver, take me to police headquarters,
Manhattan South.

Hurry.

[sneezes]

Oh, bless you.

Right. I guess you got my message.

No. No, no, I didn't.

Well, then what are you...

Strike that, I don't want to know.
Here you go.

Your purse turned up in a trashcan

couple blocks from your hotel.

Oh, really?

Now if you'll just sign this,

I can get home
to warm beer and cold pizza.

Everything's still there,

except for that check
and your cash and credit cards,

which proves the perp was after money.

No. No, I'm not sure of that.

[phone ringing]

Slocum.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I hate that.

What is it, Sergeant?

Coincidence. Coroner says there were

scratches on Bergman's hand
from human fingernails,

which doesn't mean he was your mugger,

and it doesn't matter anyway,
since I got my killer.

Except that, damn it, I'm a Virgo.

I hate loose ends.

Especially ones, you know,
that just complicate your life

without havin' anything to do
with anything.

I'm sorry. I'm not following you.

Burglary at the murder victim's apartment.

Twenty minutes ago,
duty cop takes a delicatessen break,

some junkie busts in
and trashes the place.

I mean, go figure.

Oh, yes. Now, that is very curious.

-[blows nose]
-Anyway, Sergeant,

the reason I'm here
is because of that envelope.

Mrs. Fletcher, don't start.

Suppose Mr. Bergman

inadvertently gave me the wrong envelope?

Mrs. Fletcher, we've been over this--

An envelope which contained
valuable material

he had to retrieve anonymously
and surreptitiously.

Yeah, like what?

Well, something he was using
to blackmail someone.

Blackmail? Give me a break.

Yeah, but that would explain why

Mr. Bergman was desperate
enough to come to my hotel--

Ma'am, just sign this
so we can get out of here, okay?

You must admit, it seems awfully tidy

that Ross McKay would happen
to arrange a parole for Preston Giles,

so that Preston could come
to work for him--

Mrs. Fletcher.

And Mr. McKay also happens
to employ Martin Bergman,

whom he knows Preston happened
to have fired for embezzlement

and threatened six and a half years ago.

And in less than a week,

when Preston and Martin and the secretary
happened to be alone in the office,

someone murders Mr. Bergman?

Not someone. Preston Giles.

Or someone who wanted
to kill Martin Bergman

and make it look as if Preston did it.

The someone who was being
blackmailed by Mr. Bergman.

[sneezes]

Now, you're tellin' me
it was all a-- [sneezes]

Oh, Sergeant,
perhaps you really should see a doctor.

You seem to have some sort of allergy.

Yeah. And I just figured out what it is.

I'm allergic to you.

Tell me, Sergeant,
do you think it would be possible

for us to obtain a search warrant
at this time of night?

Search warrant? What in hell
you thinkin' about now, Mrs. Fletcher?

Evidence of blackmail, Sergeant.

That's it. Good night.

Oh, but I haven't finished yet.

Have a nice trip back
to Maine, Mrs. Fletcher.

No. Not until you consider
one more possibility.

Okay, one.

Now, suppose that
when our blackmail victim

murdered Mr. Bergman,
he was unable to find whatever it was

that Bergman was blackmailing him with.

So a little while later,
he burglarized Mr. Bergman's apartment,

hoping to find it still there.

I can't believe
I let you talk me into this.

I mean, we don't even know
what we're lookin' for.

[clattering]

Jess, I can't tell you
how wonderful this feels.

Thank you for believing me
when no one else would.

Well, you may not be
in the clear just yet, Preston.

Oh?

There's something that doesn't feel right
about Ross' story.

I mean, he denies killing Bergman,
of course,

but he also denies
having been blackmailed.

And he claims that he discovered

that Mr. Bergman was embezzling.

I can't say that surprises me.

May I drop you at your hotel?

Thank you. Yes.

East 49th Street, driver.

So why the skepticism, Jess?

I mean, embezzlement would certainly
give Ross a believable motive.

I know, and the police seem to agree.

Ross insists that
he was simply searching the office

for a clue to where Bergman
had hidden the money.

But I just can't shake off the feeling

that something is missing.

Driver, please take me to Wall Street.

Aw, lady, make up your mind, will ya?

That's clear back the other way.

Driver, the lady said Wall Street,
she means Wall Street.

And I want him out on bail
by 4:00, do you understand?

No, no, you listen to me.

Every minute that Ross remains
under this cloud

threatens the survival
of Sutton Place Publishing,

not to mention the deal
that I am putting together.

Excuse me, Mrs. McKay,

but there's a Mrs. Fletcher
here to see you.

-I told her you were busy, but she--
-Tell her again.

Oh, Mrs. McKay, thank you for seeing me.

I hate to barge in like this,
but it's terribly important.

Just do it, Arthur. Call me back.

You have exactly one minute,
Mrs. Fletcher.

And I hope this isn't about

getting your jailbird friend Preston Giles
exonerated at my husband's expense.

It's about getting them
both exonerated, Mrs. McKay,

at the expense of the real murderer.

I'm curious about
your husband's relationship

with your employer, Kendall Stafford

and also with the late Martin Bergman.

I don't know what you're--

Talking about?
I'm talking about blackmail.

What exactly did Mr. Bergman
have on your husband?

Goodbye, Mrs. Fletcher.

Mrs. McKay,
your husband could go to prison

for many years for a murder
he may not have committed.

Now, maybe you don't care about that,

but I do know that you'd be very unhappy
about the financial repercussions.

-So it was blackmail.
-That's right.

A couple of years ago,
Linette's husband, Ross,

and Kendall Stafford

were involved
in some sort of a bond fraud.

Now, Martin Bergman found out about it
and made photostats of documents

that could have put them both
behind bars for years.

Then that's it.

Ross killed Martin to silence him

and arranged it so I'd take the blame.

That must be why he got me out
of prison, to be the scapegoat.

That makes sense.
Except for one thing, Preston.

Linette swore to me that
Ross was at home with her

when Mr. Bergman was killed.

Well, she's lying, Jess. She must be.

I'm not so sure.

There was something in the way
that she told me that I believed her.

Well, if it wasn't Ross...

Well...

Last night at the party,
Millie Stafford told me

that she'd had to attend the opera alone

because her husband was working late
at the office with Linette.

But if Linette is telling the truth...

Then Kendall Stafford has no alibi.

But how do you prove it?

I don't know.

I mean, there was no evidence
at the scene to tie him in.

No witnesses.

Well, I better tell this
to Sergeant Slocum.

Maybe he'll make some sense out of it.

Why don't you hold off on that,
Jess, just for tonight

and give it some more thought?

Why?

Well, uh, it's just an idea.

I don't want to talk about it
until I've thought this through.

Preston?

Please, Jess. Just do as I ask.
I'll call you later.

And, again, on the bottom of page 234,

it feels as if you're rushing the scene.

Let it run its course.

Well, that's about it, Mr. Nolan.

I don't know what's going to be happening
here at Sutton Place Publishing,

but my advice is
to find another publisher.

You're too good
and so is your book to let it die.

I hope these notes will be useful to you.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher,

just 'cause Giles doesn't answer the phone
doesn't mean there's trouble.

For all we know, he isn't even there.

The hotel doorman said
that he went to the office.

Now, there's something wrong. I know it.

He had that look on his face earlier.

Good evening, Mr. Giles.

Mrs. Stafford.

You sent my husband a note

requesting a breakfast meeting
tomorrow morning.

I had the good sense to intercept it.

I have some business to discuss with him.

Yes, the note said it involved some papers

once owned by Martin Bergman

implicating my husband
in a financial swindle.

I want those papers, Mr. Giles.

I don't have them. Not here with me.

Yes, that's what Martin tried to tell me.

Can you believe it?
They were in his pocket.

I see. So you took them out of his pocket
after you killed him.

Well, he didn't leave me much choice.

He'd been bleeding me dry.

After all, it was my money that
Kendall had been paying Martin

the past couple of years
and I finally got a little sick of it.

My big mistake was believing Martin
when he said there was only one copy.

The papers, Mr. Giles.

They're in a safe place,
where no one will ever find them.

Except me, of course.

No one, Mr. Giles?

Interesting.

You know, I'm going to risk believing you.

[gunshots]

[tires squealing]

It's Mrs. Stafford.

Mrs. Stafford, hold it!

All right, put your hands
on the car, lady.

Lift up.

Let's go, lady.

[bell dings]

Preston!

Oh!

Oh, Preston. Oh...

Please. A man has been shot

in the Sutton Place Publishing
tower suite.

Hurry, please.

Preston?

Preston. Preston.

We got her, Jess.

The tape...

the tape...

[sirens wailing]

[Millie] He was bleeding me dry.

After all, it was my money

that Kendall had been paying Martin
the past couple of years.