All language subtitles for Murder.She.Wrote.S09E22.Loves.Deadly.Desire.WEBRip.x264-ION10.

[Jessica] Tonight, on Murder, She Wrote.

[yells]

Dead! Totally,
absolutely dead.

If the second half
of your new novel is as spellbinding,

you have another best
seller on your hands.

Just because you
bought my father,

does not mean you
can buy me too.

I can guarantee you’ll never
see another cent from us.

You look absolutely
delicious.

Unless we move very fast,
there could be more murders.

That whole bunch was looney.

You so much as breathe heavy,
I’ll go straight to Valerie.

Hold it, Coile!

Seth! Look out!

[tires screech]

[lively instrumental music playing]

[thunder crashing]

[thunder crashing]

Come on, before somebody sees us.

You said we’d have the run
of the beach, Coile.

And you told me that old
lighthouse was empty.

I did the best I could.

Anyway, at least it’s up
in a couple of days.

Next time, we’ll have
the beach all to ourselves.

We better. And if you can’t deliver,

there’s half a dozen other guys
between here and Nova Scotia.

I told you, Larry--

Next Thursday, okay?

I know a guy in Quincy that can
move this stuff in a big way.

Yeah, you’ll get rich here, Phil.

Unless you send us all
to the joint first.

[laughs]

[thunder crashing]

[Sibella] There was never any
question in Rebecca’s mind

that Squire’s primary
business was smuggling.

But could she reach
Constable Trelanie in time?

Undaunted, she pressed on
determined to arrive

before the storm broke.

She felt the cold blast
of the north easter lay against her cheek,

while above, the scuttling clouds
broke apart in a sudden fury.

[thunder crashing]

She quickened her pace,

regretting the stubborn pride

that had forced her to refuse

Vance Pembrooke’s offer
of a ride out to the estate.

Rounding a bend,
she peered ahead,

-relief flooding her face.
-[thunder crashing]

The lights of the house
shone in the distance

luring her on with their
illusion of safety.

Sacrificing all decorum,
she dashed up the walk,

little knowing or caring
what twisted fate

destiny might unleash.

Rebecca reached the door.

Dead! Totally,
absolutely dead.

-What?
-Ladies, please. Give her a chance.

All right, now.
Take a deep breath.

Tell us what happened.
Who? Who is dead?

Who? You mean what.
My car.

Darn thing died on me all
the way back on Elm street.

I hope I didn’t
wreck everything.

-Oh, of course not.
[laughs]

Oh, it seems that the weather
is conspiring against us.

With the storm on the way,
we probably ought to dispense

with the question
and answer period.

So I suggest that we
all thank Ms. Stone

for truly a memorable
evening.

And wish her and her family
a safe trip back to New York.

Oh, thank you.
Thank you.

My stay in Cabot Cove
has been an absolutely

marvelous experience.

Well, I have to say this,
Sibella,

if the second half
of your new novel

is as spellbinding as the first chapter
you read to us tonight,

you have another best seller
on you hands.

I absolutely agree.

Miss Stone, Sibella,

would it be presumptuous
to ask,

do you ever miss
the Count?

Your first husband.

Oh, I suppose my
reaction says it all.

[laughs] Actually, Boris,
Count Risovsky,

was a darling man.

But after my first novel,

the men I wrote became
far more forceful, vivid.

Aha. There you are.

-Hello, Derek.
-Hi, Jessica.

Here she is.

-Oh, darling.
-Sorry I’m late.

I’ve been on the phone all
afternoon to the coast.

Oh, poor dear.

That manuscript?

Actually, I think I have it pre-sold
as a mini-series.

Oh, Derek, that’s--

that’s really terrific.

[Sibella] It’s your classic
Cinderella story.

Jessica,
can you believe it?

This housewife from Enid, Oklahoma--
what’s her name?

-Bobbie Jo Pickinpaw.
-Yeah.

She sends Derek
the very first thing she’s ever written.

Straight over the transom
and it’s fabulous.

Well, a little rough
around the edges, but--

-But it means there’s hope for all of us.
-Exactly.

Jessica, now please,
you must come by

and see those journals I found.

One of them dates from 1843.
They are amazing.

Well, I’d be most interested.
Thank you.

-Good night.
-Good night.

Oh, and drive carefully.

Um...

Marian, not now.

[background chattering]

[Seth muttering]

-Oh, sorry, Ms. Reed.
-Dr. Hazlitt.

-How are you?
-Fine, thanks.

Ugh! Look at my trousers.

What about--
Miss, are you all right?

I’ll survive,

which may be more than
I can say for my mail.

How about we take a look
before we leap to conclusions.

There.

Almost dry as a bone,
wouldn’t you say, Ms. Hartman?

Pity about your
dry cleaning.

Oh, drat.

Next time, perhaps you’ll
look where you’re going.

Colin, enough.

Young man, you’ve got
to be the rudest,

most inconsiderate person
I’ve met in a long time.

Colin, it’s time
to get going.

Look, mister,
get your jacket cleaned

and put it on
the Stone account.

She’s renting Bay House.

Stone? You mean,
the novelist?

My stepmother.

And don’t worry.
She’s good for it.

[engine revs, tires squeal]

Monroe?

You better snap to it.

Mr. Turner’s
grumbling again.

Oh, thanks.

Ms. Fletcher, wait!

-I-it’s Phil, isn’t it?
-Yes, ma’am.

-Phil Coile.
-Of course.

-How’s your mother?
-Much better, thanks.

Back’s hardly
bothering her at all.

Reason I yelled, Ms. Fletcher,
that first step is broken.

Hit it wrong, you might
break a leg or worse.

Well, thank you
for warning me.

I tried warning her too.
Ms. Stone, I mean.

Told her the place
was falling apart,

and what does she do?
She rents it anyway.

Now I hear they wanna stay
another week.

You might wanna do her a favor,
Ms. Fletcher.

Talk her into leaving
before somebody gets hurt.

Here we are.

Oh, Jessica, you’re
an absolute angel.

I couldn’t think where
in the world I’d left it.

-Please, come and sit down.
-Thank you.

You know,
I couldn’t ask Derek.

Well, if he thought I lost
the very first gift he ever gave me...

I understand from Phil Coile,
that you’re planning to spend

a few more days here.

It has been so wonderful.

-I’ll be able to finish my book.
-[pounding]

Assuming, that is, that rocket
scientist can keep the place

from totally crumbling
for that long.

And then, my reward.

Three weeks in Montego Bay.

Just Derek and me.

Here are the journals.

But why don’t we take them
outside and look at them?

What a good idea.

And, uh, Marian.

Be a dear and fax these copy
changes back to New York.

I’ll take care of it.

Nice to see you again,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Thank you, Marian.

"And as the snows of the
hardest winter in memory

shed their melting
tears outside my window,

I saw all nature wake as from
a long and peaceful sleep.

The robins’ song this morning had all
the sweetness of a nosegay of violets."

Oh, Sibella.
These really are a find.

You know, I must check with the owner
and see if he won’t donate these

to the local library.

This one dates from 1879.

Apparently written by
the daughter when she was about ten.

Well, that would be--
Let me think, now.

That would be Catherine Moody. Now--

-Sibella...
-[door slams shut]

I can’t believe that they’re
still trying to toss

Colin out of the country.

Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher.
Sibella, we have to talk.

Oh, I was just about
to leave anyway.

Oh, stay where you are,
Jessica. Please.

Now, Val, what is
our problem today?

This from the INS.

They want Colin to come in
for a deportation hearing.

You said that you had
a friend in Washington

who could fix it
so we could stay.

I do, but I never
said I’d call him.

Val, he’s an opportunist.

No, he’s not.
He cares about me.

Nonsense, girl.
Colin cares about Colin.

Valerie, darling, if you’re contemplating
anything more serious

than sleeping with that
Piccadilly prima donna,

I can guarantee, you’ll never
see another cent from us.

No so long as I live.

Just because you
bought my father

does not mean you
can buy me too.

Excellent, since your father
can now afford you in his own right,

perhaps you’d prefer that
he buy you on his terms.

[sighs]

And they say my books
are gothic trash.

This family is like life
imitating satire.

Listen, about dinner,

perhaps it would be
better to make it--

Oh, nonsense, Jessica.

I won’t hear of it.

Seven o'clock Thursday, black tie.

Seven o'clock it is.

Oh, more journals. How lovely.

Sibella found them
in the basement.

How about a cup
of coffee?

Oh, no thank you.
I have to be getting back.

I’ll see you tonight,

assuming our party preparations
aren’t a complete disaster.

Mrs. Fletcher,
may I ask you question?

Of course.

Do you find the writing
to be satisfying?

Well, yes.
Yes, I do.

Of course, that’s not to say that
some days aren’t more fun than others.

Why do you ask?

I don’t know.

Except for you, Sibella’s
the only professional novelist I’ve met.

I’ve been working pretty closely
with her the last couple years.

And I guess it just
seems to me

that it’s not making
her very happy.

For her, it’s like she cares more about
the success than the writing.

Well, of course, it’s very
easy for that to happen.

Not the success, of course,
but everything that goes with it.

All the publicists,
the tours,

the TV appearances,
the media hype.

Sometimes it seems like it’s
taking over her whole life.

It can, if you let it.

Except, it doesn’t seem
to bother her.

It obviously bothers you.

Marian, I can’t
speak for Sibella,

but I’ve found that
writing can get stale

if I’m not stretching myself.

I have to guard against
slipping into patterns.

Doing it the same old way.
Maybe everyone does.

Are you thinking
of becoming a writer?

I--

Yes, I guess I’ve
thought about it.

On the other hand,

it could be that Sibella’s
unhappiness

is caused by something
other than her career.

Yes, I-- I guess I never
considered that. I--

I better get back now.

Marian, I’m not much
of an advice giver.

But if you do
decide to write,

you might give some thought to
simply going out

on your own and
just doing it.

I know from my own experience

nobody is going
to do it for you.

Well, thanks,
Mrs. Fletcher.

-I’ll see myself out.
-Fine.

[Derek]
Oh, this darn tie.

Can you fix this
tie for me?

Oh, I’ve gotta see
to the caterers

and the table
and the flowers.

Knock, knock.

Marian. You look lovely.
Doesn’t she, Derek?

Yes, absolutely.

Thanks. I was wondering if you
needed help with anything?

Oh, you’re a dear.

How are you with bow ties?

I think I can do it.

Just-- right there.

You look absolutely
delicious.

Mmm-- Marian, not now.
Now is not the time.

When, for heaven’s sakes?

You just have to be a little
more patient, that’s all.

-I promise.
-You said that before.

I know.

When she’s through with her
new novel, then. All right?

The next batch,
a little less dill.

Yes, ma’am.

Those candles over there,

please space them
a little more evenly.

Mm-hmm.

Sibella.
I must speak with you.

Where’s Valerie?
Shining your shoes?

Preening.
She’ll be along shortly.

Listen, uh, about my visa,

I desperately need
your help, you know.

I know.

All right.

What is it you want?

A trade off. I fix it so you
can take out US citizenship,

and you give up Valerie.

That’s out of the question.

Not that you two don’t deserve each other.

But without you, she might
turn into a human being I can tolerate.

Forget it, love.

I wasn’t under the impression
that you had a choice.

Phil. Working late,
aren’t you?

Shape this place is in,
the work never stops, Ms. Stone.

Like I said, whole thing is just
an accident waiting to happen.

I do appreciate your concern,
but fortunately,

the building inspector doesn’t
agree with it.

[engine starts]

[Seth] I swear, I don’t know why
I let you talk me into this.

[laughs]
Cheer up, Seth.

It’s a lovely night.

No clouds, lots of stars.

-Look at those lights.
-Lights?

Fisherman, probably.

Hmm? It appears to be some
sort of a signal.

SOS?

No, no.
It’s too irregular. See?

I can't, and keep this thing
on the road?

Well, it stopped.

Which is what
I would like to do,

followed by turning
around and going home.

[laughs]

[clashing, gasps]

Oh!

[cheerful chattering]

I hope we’re not
too late, Seth.

It’s my fault. I couldn’t
find my darn car keys.

Good evening,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Just hang up your coats
and join the others, won’t you?

I’m trying
to find Sibella.

Ah. Well if this is what
passes for hospitality,

we’re in for quite
a long night.

By the way, did you notice
that Ms. Hartman

and Mr. Wonderful
are right over there?

Oh, come on, Seth.
Give it a chance.

All right. Okay, but I’m warning you,

it’s got disaster
written all over it.

[Sibella] Help!
Please, help!

Somebody! Somebody help me!

[yells]

Help me! Help! Help!

[Colin] And then again
at Le Mans in 1980.

The identical
thing happened.

It was the 23rd hour,
I had the race won.

Bloody car was running
like a top,

and then cornering out
of the Mulsanne straight,

the rear suspension
broke and I spun out.

My former mechanic had neglected
to install the proper shift.

Oh, it makes me very glad that
I never learned how to drive.

Interesting, isn’t it?

How all his losses, seem to
be someone else’s fault.

All the same, I am fascinated
by people who live on the edge.

Well, I think Mr. Burnham
has already fallen off his.

I heard a couple
of the guests talking.

They said Colin had been
dropped from his racing team.

Apparently,
he lost his nerve.

Hmm.

Jessica, we have been
here 40 minutes.

Do you realize our
hostess hasn’t put in an appearance yet?

-Dr. Hazlitt.
-Yes.

-Jessica, you look lovely.
-Thank you, Derek.

So, how can I induce you
to leave your publisher and sign with me?

Oh, I’m afraid that’s a very
hard sale, Derek.

Oh, come on.

Are you telling me you’re
actually happy

with your advertising
and promotion?

Are you telling me you’ve
ever met an author who was?

-No.
[laughs]

Even my wife gives
me grief about that.

Excuse me, can I speak
to you please?

Yes, I wonder where
Sibella has disappeared to.

Oh, do you really care?

You needed her ten
years ago, not now.

Valerie, you shut up,
all right?

What’s wrong, Marian?

I’m not sure. I found
this on our dressing table.

"Boathouse, 7:00 pm."

That’s almost
an hour ago.

[groaning]

Help!

Oh, God. Sibella!

Derek! My ankle!
It’s caught!

Hold on, darling.
We’ll get you out.

[Sibella] Oh, Derek.

You’re free now.
She’s free. Pull her up.

-You got it?
-[grunts]

There.

Oh.

Blood pressure
and temperature normal.

Except those bruises
on your ankle,

I’d say you’re none
the worse for wear.

Thank heaven for that.

Tide rising like that,
another few minutes,

it would’ve been
all over.

What were you doing down
at the boathouse anyway?

It’s ridiculous, really.

Jessica was very excited
by the moody family diaries.

I recalled seeing
more volumes down there,

so I went to get them?

What’s that got to do
with the note?

What note?

Oh, yes. Now I remember.

I wrote that
memo to remind myself

to meet Phil Coile down
there yesterday evening

to discuss some repairs.

Ironic, isn’t it?

I don’t know if it’s quite
the word I’d use.

In any case, it’s very fortunate
that Ms. King found the note.

I will certainly second that.

And now, darling,
I think it’s essential

that you get some rest.

I feel terrible
that I’ve ruined

what promised to be
a very lovely evening.

Thank you.
Thank all of you.

Good night.

-Thanks again.
-You’re welcome.

Everything was very nice.

Have a nice night.

[engine revs]

Colin. You startled me.

Valerie needed
something warmer.

It’s perfectly awful
what happened to Sibella.

You must be frightfully upset.

Forget it. You so much
as breathe heavy,

I’ll go straight to Valerie.

[scoffs] I don’t think so, love.

Because if you did,

I’d have to inform
Sibella of your

nightly rendezvous
with Derek.

Be my guest.

Ta-ta, Colin.

[Seth]
And on top of that,

you disappear
for 15 minutes

while I get treated to
another round of family feud.

Where in the devil
were you, anyway?

Well, if you’ll give me
half a chance, I’ll tell you.

I went back
to the boathouse.

Those broken board that
Sibella thought were rotten?

Well, some of their edges
were cleanly cut.

Are you saying someone
tried to kill her?

Or frighten her.

I mean, either way, I’m almost certain
it was deliberate. And that’s not all.

I couldn’t find any of those
family journals that she said

-were down there.
-Somebody could’ve removed them?

Remember those flashing
lights

that we noticed on the water
while we were driving up?

You think there’s some sort
of connection

between those lights
and what happened?

Well, I don’t know.

But I did think that
Sibella

was being somewhat
less than candid

about that note
that Marian found.

My sentiments exactly.

As if she was frightened
of something

but can’t quite bring herself
to tell us what it is.

Who or what would poss--

Seth, look out!

[tires screech]

-Oh.
-You were right.

Well, yes. I think so.

Now where do you suppose
Phil Coile is going

at such an
all fired hurry?

I was asking myself
the same question.

[loud thud, grunts]

[sirens wailing]

Okay, Mr. Shepard,
where is she?

Right down there.

Andy? Did you
touch anything?

No. No way. I just took one
look and ran to a phone.

Your kin live around here?

No, Sir. I’m sort
of new in town.

I rent a room over on Elm.

I was out walking,
watching the sun rise.

Any idea who it is?

I’m not sure.

I’ve seen that writer wearing
a coat with a hood like that.

Jessica Fletcher?

No, I think her name's Stone.

Sibella Stone?

Is she...?

Yeah. Okay if I move
her, sheriff?

Yeah, but as little as possible
till Doc gets here.

Wait a minute.
That isn’t--

That’s not Mrs. Stone.

That’s Sibella Stone’s
assistant, Marian King.

[Mort] Doctor Hazlitt figures
it happened last night

anywhere between
ten and one am.

It’s-- it’s horrible.

Yes, ma’am.
It is.

Blow to the head like that,
the doctor said

death was instantaneous.

And we figured she
fell from the bluff after she was struck.

What was she doing
out there anyhow?

-I was about to ask the same thing.
-[doorbell rings]

Perhaps she was headed
to the boathouse to...

-meet someone.
-Colin, that’s ridiculous.

Why is that,
Ms. Hartman?

I’ll tell you why.

Because the girl didn’t have
a devious bone in her body.

Or an enemy in the world
so far as I know.

Oh, Sibella,
I’m so sorry.

-Thank you, Jessica.
-Good morning, Mrs. Fletcher.

Are you here to maybe
shed some light on this?

It’s odd that
you should mention light.

Um, I had no idea if there’s
any connection,

but has anyone mentioned
to you that someone

has been flashing signal
lights out in the bay

at night not
far from here?

Signal lights?

I saw it myself on the way
up here last night.

And Marian told me that she’d
seen them the past two nights.

Anyone else see them?

Actually, I think I may have.

I usually take a walk
before going to bed, weather permitting.

-On the beach?
-Heavens, no.

The bluff is as close
as I care to get to the water.

Anyway, I just assumed
that they were ships passing

or something of that sort.

On these walks, ma’am,

do you ever wear a long,
gray coat with a hood?

I have a gray cloak, yes.

Does Ms. King
have one like that?

No, not that I know of.

Then I’m afraid, ma’am,
Ms. King was wearing your cloak

when she was killed.

Oh, my God.

So, you’re saying--

I believe what
the sheriff is suggesting

is that the killer might’ve
mistaken Marian for you.

Monroe, I heard
about the murder.

Are you okay?

More or less, yeah.

I’m worried
about you.

Oh, don’t be.

They say that... you
discovered the body?

So?

Well, what were you
doing way out there?

I’ve answered enough questions
for one morning, Sue.

Please, Monroe,
don’t shut me out.

I-I can’t stand it.

I don’t know what
you’re talking about.

Yes, you do.

You’re involved somehow
with them, aren’t you?

Something to do
with that family.

Forget it, Sue.
You’re imagining things.

Am I?

Ever since we’ve been
seeing each other,

ever since you got to town,

I sensed there’s something
between you and those people.

-Sue, I--
-Please, Monroe, don’t do this to me.

I haven’t wanted to pry,
but,

it’s making
me a little crazy.

The way you look at them
when they come to town,

the phone calls,

the dates that you’ve
broken off with me.

The dead girl.
Ms. King.

That’s it, isn’t it?

-You and she--
-No!

Then it’s that--
that Valerie.

-The pretty one.
-Sue...

I’m sorry.

Just let me get
back to work, okay?

Monroe?

[sighs]

[Sibella] But why would she
take my cloak?

If I remember correctly,

Marian’s coat was this pale,
cream one.

Is that Marian King’s coat?

Yes, it is.

But I still don’t understand
why she didn’t wear it.

Maybe she couldn’t find it
under that top coat.

Or maybe she was just
in such a hurry,

she grabbed the nearest one,
yours.

Who does this belong to?

That is mine.

Then you were right
about the incident

at the boathouse
last night.

Whoa, hold it.
What incident?

When Jessica got home,
she called me

suggesting that I get
in touch with you.

I didn’t think
it was important.

Sibella, there were no
journals in the boathouse.

-Journals?
-And the note.

Was it really about your
meeting with Phil Coile?

The Count never existed.

This is Joe Welinsky,
my real first husband.

I’ve been receiving these
for several weeks now.

"You owe me, love Joe."

"It’s time to share the wealth.
Joe W."

This one is from Milwaukee.
And this from St. Louis.

But there’s no return
address on either one.

This one’s even
more threatening.

"If you refuse, I’ll make
mincemeat out of you. Signed J.W."

He always had
a crazy streak.

I divorced him after
I left Bert Falls.

I hadn’t heard
from him in years

until I got these notes.

Anyway, yesterday I received
one Marian found

asking me to meet him
in the boathouse.

I thought perhaps
if we talked,

I might convince him
to go away.

Jessica. How is
she holding up?

Oh, pretty well, I think.

Sheriff Metzger is still
taking her statement.

And you, Derek,
how are you holding up?

I’m not, uh, sure
how I should respond to that, Jessica.

Well, I suppose that depends
how deeply you were involved with Marian.

Well, you do know how to cut
to the chase, don’t you?

For me, I think I was
trying to convince myself

that I wasn’t growing old.

And for her?

Well, it was more
serious for her.

She wanted me
to divorce Sibella.

You’re not
suggesting that I--

Oh, I’m not suggesting
anything, Derek.

Hey, I’m just saying it wasn’t supposed
to include murder, okay?

Listen, for the kind of money you’re
paying me you won't even see ripples.

-[knocking]
-Yeah, I gotta go.

Quick. Old man Turner’s
looking for you.

Like I told you before,
even if I wanted to help Colin,

which I don’t,
I have no way of doing it.

Sibella does.
She has a friend in Washington.

Please, daddy? Please?

Come on, I know you
can talk her into it.

She owes you everything,
for God’s sake.

Knowing the way
Sibella feels about Colin,

I don’t even
think she’ll listen.

What about the way that I feel?
Doesn’t that count?

Dammit, why couldn’t
it have been her?

It was her cloak.
Could’ve been so easy.

[car approaching]

[engine revs, tires screech]

[sirens wail]

Hold it, Coile!

-Freeze!
-[gun cocks]

Don’t shoot!
I’m not armed!

Neither was Marian King
when someone killed her last night.

That someone wouldn’t have
been you, would it, Coile?

Are you crazy?

I don’t even know her,
why would I wanna kill her?

Could be she saw the same
thing in the box that I see.

[handcuffs clicking]

Pure ivory.

My guess is you’ve been
smuggling that in by boat.

Probably by way of Canada.

Which would explain
the flashing lights

people have been
seeing offshore.

And the private beach
made it a breeze.

Until Ms. Stone arrived.

No wonder you
wanted her gone.

You got that part right,
sheriff, but,

not bad enough
to kill for it.

Yeah? Suppose we let a jury
decide that, huh, Coile?

I’m placing you under arrest
for smuggling ivory.

And I got a hunch
before we’re through,

I’ll be charging you
with the attempted murder of Sibella Stone

and the murder
of Marian King.

[talking over police radio]

[fax buzzing]

Joseph Henry Wilensky.

So this was Mrs. Stone’s
first husband.

Have you seen anybody around town
that looks like him, Mrs. Fletcher?

No, no, I haven’t.

According to this,
he served three years

of a seven-year term.

Then after six months,
he jumped bail.

Been a fugitive ever since.

That was seven years ago.

Then what did you say,

all of a sudden, a few months
ago, right out of the blue,

he starts sending
notes to Ms. Stone?

-May I use your phone?
-Of course, Mrs. Fletcher.

[dial tone, dialing]

[operator] What city, please?

Yes, I’d like the area code
for Enid, Oklahoma, please.

Clean, simple, no muss,
no fuss.

I love it. Makes you feel
like you’re doing your job.

Also, makes
you insufferable.

Hey. I’m entitled
to a little of that.

I mean you find a lead,

you follow it to
it’s logical conclusion

and you catch the guy.

Not only without
an alibi for murder,

but red-handed on
a whole other crime.

Besides, you’re
never insufferable?

Me? Oh, sheriff,

I suggest that you seriously
consider a brain scan.

Oh, right.

How ’bout when you finally figured out
what was wrong with Adele’s foot?

We didn’t hear the end
of that for a month.

The fact that your
wife was unaware

that she was walking around for six weeks
with a nail in her shoe,

had, you must admit, a certain
anecdotal quality.

Especially when you realize

she never once wore
that particular shoe

when she came limping
in to see me.

Yeah, well, I-- Oh, Mrs. F!

-Oh, Jessica.
-Sheriff, I--

Easy on the compliments,
Mrs. F.

The Doc isn’t handling
them too well.

Actually, sheriff,
I came by to tell you,

that I think that
you’re mistaken.

And although I can’t quite prove
who did murder Marian King,

I’m almost certain that Phil Coile
had nothing to do with it.

My goodness, Jess.
You don’t say.

Come on, Mrs. F.
We got enough on Coile--

[chalk squeaks]

...to put him away for
a couple of lifetimes.

I myself, caught him--

Sheriff, on the off chance
that it could prove otherwise,

would you authorize
a credit card check?

Credit card check?
Sure. Why not?

But I gotta tell you, this is
one time you’re mistaken.

Okay, who’s credit card,
and what detail?

[Mort] It’s pretty much the way
you had it figured, Mrs. F.

The airline tickets
to St. Louis,

New Orleans, Memphis.

Look who signed for him.

-Yes. Sheriff, this one frightens me.
-Why?

I think it means that
unless we move very fast,

there could be more murders.

[phone ringing]

Coffee shop.

Sure. It’s for you, Monroe.

Listen, you two close up
for me, okay?

You got it, Mr. Turner.

-Good night, Mr. Turner.
[door chimes]

Hello?

Well I gotta
talk to you too.

Tonight?

Okay.

I’ve gotta go out there.

Monroe, I’m scared.

Don’t be. This is
the last time.

I'm gonna put an end to this.

-Take my chances.
[door chimes]

Mr. Shepard,

I wonder if we could have
a word with you, please.

Oh, my God.

I was afraid you
wouldn’t be here.

Monroe. What’s wrong?

Just tell me what
the problem is, Sibella.

What was so urgent?

It’s Derek.
He knows about us.

He’s furious
and I’m terrified.

So?

You don’t understand.
We’re in danger.

He murdered Marian.

[Derek]
Sibella!

[gun cocks]

Derek, darling, help me!

Sibella?

Sibella, who’s he?

What’s going on?

What’s going on, my darling,
is your death.

Wait a minute.

You murdered Marian,
didn’t you?

And now...

Don’t even twitch, lady.

[gun cocks]

Andy.

-Nice job, Mr. Shepard.
-Thanks.

Looks like you had this one
nailed too, Mrs. F.

She uses this gun
to kill her husband,

plugs Monroe with this one,

and then puts the first
one in Monroe’s hand.

Thereby making it look as if
Monroe had killed Derek,

and that you had no choice

but to kill Monroe
in self defense.

Do you really think I’m
so stupid, Derek,

that I was blind
to what was going on

between you and Marian?

You killed Marian
because of our affair?

No Derek, it wasn’t
as simple as that.

You came to Cabot Cove to play a
calculated charade.

Knowing that I’d be the
first to suspect

that attempts were
being made on your life.

Attempts which you
cleverly contrived.

First the dinner party,

during which a number of people would
be made aware that you were missing,

leaving the note where Marian
or someone else could find it.

That way you felt sure

you’d be found at the boathouse
in time to be rescued.

It was you who saw through
the floorboards.

But the tide,
she almost drowned.

The one thing she didn’t
take into account,

was her ankle
getting caught.

Trapping her down there.

Then I remembered
the tide chart

you kept prominently pinned
to the bulletin board.

Excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher,

probably 80 percent of the people
in Cabot Cove have a tide chart.

Even someone who insisted
that the bluff was the closest

she ever came to
the water’s edge?

Okay. But why was Marian King
wearing Mrs. Stone’s cloak?

Because you hid her coat,
didn’t you, Sibella? After the party?

Knowing that Marian would be
going down to the boathouse

for her usual clandestine
meeting with your husband.

So she had no choice but to wear
your distinctive cloak.

I get it now.

She kills Ms. King making
it look like a mistake.

Like she was
the intended victim.

Then she puts Ms. King’s
cream colored coat back

so this morning we all
see that it’s there under Mr. Hartman’s.

My God, Sibella. Why?

I think that Sibella learned
what I did, Derek.

When Marian dropped those
journals

off at my house the day
of the party,

she questioned me about
my work.

I have to guard against
slipping into patterns,

doing it the same old way.
Maybe everyone does.

Are you thinking of
becoming a writer?

I--

Yes, I guess I’ve
thought about it.

[Jessica] It left me
with the impression

that though she was
reluctant to admit it,

she might’ve done more than just
considered the possibility.

And then later,
I recalled a story

about the new novelist
from Oklahoma

and I learned
that the only record

of Mrs. Bobbie Jo Peckinpaw
from Enid, Oklahoma,

was a post office box
rented by Marian King.

The conniving little tramp.

She learned to write
by watching me.

With Marian and Derek dead,

as publisher of my own books,

I’d have the best
of all worlds.

But there were other key
elements in your plan.

The first being your
ex-husband Joe Welinsky.

He’s still a fugitive.

Which gave you a ready-made
scapegoat.

An angry,
vengeful ex-husband

who wanted a piece
of your success.

But you needed somebody
to help you create that fiction.

So I found Monroe.
Sweet boy.

Yeah, sweet boy.
You had him scared to death.

Somehow you found out
he had a police record

and you threatened
to use that against him.

You told him if he didn’t
do as you asked,

you were gonna tell everyone
that he had burglarized your place.

I might never had made
the connection, Sibella,

except that earlier today,
in the coffee shop,

while Monroe was preparing
the menu,

his chalk broke and I happened
to notice

that he misspelled
the word "mince",

in the same way as that note
that you showed us

after Marian’s body
was discovered.

My compliments, Jessica.

I should’ve stuck
to my specialty, gothic romance,

and left the murder
plotting to you.

I think you were mistaken

on a far more
basic level, Sibella.

You convinced yourself

you could pull it off
in real life.

And so we checked their
credit card records.

-There you go.
-Thank you.

Air travel receipts
signed for by Monroe

for places like St. Louis,
Chicago, Des Moines,

places he must’ve sent
the Joe Wilensky letters from.

And the final item was
a purchase

that Sibella signed for.

First class air fare
to Jamaica.

The holiday that she told me she
was planning with her husband.

Only the ticket was
for just one person. Sibella.

Ayuh. Well I told you.

Told me what, Seth?

What do you mean, what?

That whole bunch was looney.

New Yorkers and race-car
driver vagabonds.

They never should have
been allowed up here in the first place.

-Mrs. Fletcher,
-Dr. Hazlitt,

I just wanted to
thank you Mrs. Fletcher.

And to let you know that I’ve
decided to settle down here

in Cabot Cove with Sue.

Well, I think
that’s lovely.

And I hope you’ll both
be very happy.

[Sue] Thank you.

Monroe?

Well, have a nice day.

Well, now, Seth.

Doesn’t that
make you feel good?

Wonderful.

I just hope he takes
some spelling lessons.

[laughter]