Original subtitles

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

She left my apartment in a state close to hysteria.

I'm here to be part of her life again.

She loathes you.

-Am I supposed to know you? -No.

But I'd like to buy you a drink.

Is that ever gonna do a number on her head.

The window was open.

If it were closed, the bullet would've shattered it.

-That's reverse logic. -Or intuition.

I needed you so much.

I don't expect you to forgive me, honey.

I want to make you a woman.

In the murderer's view of things,

it didn't have to make musical sense.

[clarinet playing]

[clarinet continues]

[piano playing]

[thud]

You should be asleep by now.

You record tomorrow at 9:00.

It's him, isn't it?

Your imagination, Leslie.

Go to bed.

All right, here's what it'll be.

Artichokes vinaigrette to start,

osso buco with zucchini stuffed with mushrooms.

Mrs. Fletcher, cease and desist!

You're making me hungry!

Have you found out what's wrong, Richie?

I think so, yeah.

[playing]

You know, this man out here, whoever he is,

he plays beautifully.

[groans]

The trap was plugged, that's all it was.

Oh, that's great. Thank you, Richie.

I've got six people coming for dinner this weekend.

My pleasure, Mrs. Fletcher.

You know about that guy down there--

would you believe that Maestro Tokofsky in the penthouse

put in a complaint to the police?

Oh? I wonder why.

Heh. I understood that Mr. Tokofsky

was moving out at the end of the week.

Don't ask. Between you and me,

he is one tenant I will not miss.

He's a constant complainer.

"This ain't right, that ain't right."

Oh, so I've heard.

You know, Leslie promised us

a benefit recital for the museum,

but it's gonna come down to whether he's in the mood

to give it his blessing.

That Leslie, that's someone I will miss.

But it's weird, isn't it,

how any father would let somebody like Mr. Tokofsky

be her guardian.

Yes, I've wondered about that, too.

Listen, in a week, she'll be 18 and out on her own.

And then boom-- watch out.

[laughs]

See ya, Mrs. Fletcher. Thanks, Richie.

[classical piano playing]

[overlapping chatter]

It'll probably be a little while.

Can I get you some more coffee?

No, thank you, Vanessa. I'll wait here.

Okay.

God, girl, what were you doing with the pedal?

The fortissimo? It was just as you wrote it, Byron.

An elephant could've played it better.

Byron, ease up. She played it

just like she did on the other tracks,

only it was better, if you ask me.

Well, I did not ask you!

The whole suite will have to be rerecorded

when Miss Walden has sufficiently practiced.

You call yourself a manager, Owen?

I can't understand how you allow these people

to go ahead with rubbish like this!

You okayed the sketches.

The sketches! We're selling the top artist of a generation.

None of this says anything about that!

There is no excitement!

God knows how many thousands for Aldous Reynolds,

the top portrait photographer in New York.

Two million guaranteed for the cosmetics endorsement.

Big advance against the tour.

To say nothing of the bucks I put on the table

to make Leslie exclusive to Paradigm Records,

and he still won't let the pros do their thing!

Quite the perfectionist.

No, just one of your ultimate control freaks.

You seem to be something of a one-man band yourself.

I mean, isn't it rare for the head of a label

to be the producer and the engineer of his company's recordings?

Four years at M.I.T. studying sound wave theory,

but I dug music more.

If it means overtime to get everything just right for Leslie,

so be it.

Ah-ah-ah. Life is too short.

[laughs] A week ago, I was up at the penthouse,

fixing that mega sound system of his.

Some kid wanted to buy Leslie a cup of coffee.

You should've seen the way Tokofsky

came down on this poor guy.

Just give me some time, Byron.

We'll make it better.

Time is what I don't have.

And neither do you!

Mr. Tokofsky?

Sorry to keep you waiting, Mrs. Fletcher.

I understand Leslie made a commitment to you

without consulting me.

Unfortunately, our tour preparations

allow for a very tight schedule.

I understand. I'm certainly prepared

to work around your schedule.

All I really need now is to know

what Leslie's going to be playing

at the museum benefit.

I don't think you understand.

It would only be an afternoon, Byron.

I'm really sorry to be so persistent,

but I have a deadline with the printer who's doing the programs,

and I would appreciate hearing something by Friday.

Leslie?

Hello, angel.

Uh, if that's all, Byron, then...

Jessica and I can share a cab back to the apartment.

I tried to follow what career you had, Walden.

It seemed to vanish somewhere between the drugs and the booze.

I noticed that lately it's come down

to one-nighters on sidewalks.

Well, there's no cover charge on the street.

People appreciate that.

And bar gigs are not exactly the best incentive

to stop drinking.

You're telling me you're reformed?

Yeah.

You're not the same musical fraud you were ten years ago?

Come on, Byron. Ease off.

I came to make peace.

And your timing is purely accidental?

You're looking for a free ride on Leslie's career.

No, I'm not.

In case you misread her just now,

let me assure you of something, she loathes you.

Whatever demons were driving you,

whatever excuses you had, the loss of your wife, the booze,

all Leslie remembers is that you walked out of her life.

I still can't understand how you could've done that.

But remember something, both you and her begged me

to help her realize her talent,

and I've fulfilled my side of the bargain.

And I'm here to be part of her life, one way or another.

Anything that I can do to help her.

Maybe that way, I can make up

for the missing years.

-If you can't handle-- -Just get out.

Stay away from her. You'll destroy her.

-Hello, Jessica. -Hello, Solly.

Do you two know each other?

This is Solly Prinze, Leslie Walden.

Solly's my new neighbor.

Leslie and I aren't exactly strangers.

We've shared the same elevator several times.

Solly's helping me with the piano

for a book I'm prepping.

It's good to meet you.

Seeing as we're neighbors,

-maybe you'd like to come to dinner? -Maybe.

Good. I'll take that maybe as a yes.

-Bye, Jessica. -Bye.

She's kind of shy.

I think she likes you.

So our lesson's still on?

Oh, definitely. 9 o'clock tomorrow. Thanks.

The caterers called to say they'd be here at 7 o'clock sharp.

Which usually means 7:30.

I'm relying on you to supervise them, Bok.

Yes, Mr. Tokofsky.

Oh, Leslie... share a toast with me.

With all the hard work,

you haven't the faintest idea

of the incredible rewards that await in Europe.

To Leslie Walden, the brightest light since Van Cliburn.

There's something that I've been trying

to find the right moment to express to you, Leslie.

Up to now, I've been your teacher,

I've tried to take your father's place--

And you have. You've been everything to me,

a marvelous teacher, wonderful father--

But I can no longer just play these roles.

You're not a child anymore. You're--

I think I should get dressed now.

I think it's time.

Please, hear me out.

-It's just that-- -Just what? Or whom?

Those mindless boys I keep protecting you from?

-Your father? -My father can go to blazes!

I think it's high time you allowed the girl to breathe.

Kindly mind your own business, Vanessa.

I have... for five years.

I've been waiting for the Princess

to take some young man, turn him into a toad,

or whatever the fairy tale is.

And now I find, to my utter humiliation,

you're the toad.

I'll take that as a compliment.

You're not really serious about her, are you?

[dialing]

Let me talk to Albertson.

You have your apartment,

a generous allowance.

If that's not enough...

[laughs] Hi.

Yeah, it's Leslie. I'm glad I caught you.

I just needed to talk to somebody.

Of course you did. Of course.

Yes. Believe me, I understand.

Now, listen, you gift of the Gods,

just hang in there another week

and you'll be out of there.

You'll be your own person.

Yeah, my own person. But who's that?

I don't even know, Owen.

Just hang in there, okay?

[dial tone]

[music playing]

Please find out what's keeping Leslie.

I have to speak to the caterers.

I read one of your books, Mrs. Fletcher,

and if you'll suffer a poor music critic a bold opinion,

one finds the woman behind the pen

so much more intriguing than the written word.

Have you seen Leslie around, Mr. Trilby?

Byron...

I know this morning was disappointing,

but there'll be a bunch of new layouts for you tomorrow.

Since you're bringing it up, I fired them all.

What?

You could've given me the courtesy of--

Courtesy is not exactly my forte.

You forced me to reevaluate

our relationship, too, Owen...

and it's over.

Mrs. Laszko, while you're here,

let me try to find that concert program for you.

One wonders if the primal female in you

is not waging some desperate struggle

to break the bonds of paper and ink.

I detected a counterpoint of passion,

an echo of the romantics-- Brahms, Rachmaninoff.

[indistinct chatter]

Would you excuse me, please?

[song ends, applause]

So he let you out of your cage.

The usual, Izzy, please.

And what would you like?

Uh, orange juice, thank you.

So I, uh... I found out...

if you want the scoop on anybody in the building,

ask Richie the doorman.

He said you're gonna turn 18 next week.

Heh! That's a biggie.

Me, I fired everybody,

my mother, my father, this flaky manager

who wanted to put me on the stairway to stardom.

I always had this place inside me

that had to be mine alone.

I had to clear everybody else out of there

to let it grow on its own.

-Careful, it's hot. -Thanks.

-Live a little. -Okay.

Mmm! These are pretty good.

I'm a big fan of your dad's, by the way.

Hank Walden, right?

If you know anything about jazz,

he's like this underground icon.

The top guys collect his stuff when they can find it.

So, um...

let's talk about you.

People were saying, "Solly, you gotta hear this girl."

So I went to your Carnegie debut two years ago.

You played The Emperor. After that, I kind of kept track of you.

An anonymous admirer.

You're not anonymous, Solly.

Studio musicians are anonymous, believe me.

We don't even have faces.

That's not true. I have your C.D., you know,

Wallflowers.

How'd you get it past him?

I snuck it in. [laughs]

There's hope yet.

[guitar music playing]

[music stops]

The party was yours, and yours alone.

You insulted my guests, your friends and supporters.

They were here only for you.

And you chose to act like a child.

Listen to me.

You're a little girl again, huh?

You remember what we did the first time

you came to me as a little girl?

Begging me to take over your training?

We'll do it now... again...

just as we did then.

No, please, I don't want to do that.

Renew your commitment, Leslie.

Look into my eyes.

Do it.

Ten years ago, your father abandoned you,

and there was no one left in your world but Byron Tokofsky

and that dream of yours,

to be a great concert pianist. True?

You asked me to take your hands and make them mine.

I have done that.

And today you have your dream.

I have given you my life

and asked nothing in return...

until now.

Now...I want to make you a woman.

Munich is on our schedule.

It's a beautiful, romantic city.

I have made arrangements for us to be married there

during the Oktoberfest.

[door closes]

[piano playing]

Henry Walden? Yeah.

I'm Vanessa Cross.

Congratulations.

[chuckles] Am I supposed to know you, Vanessa?

No. But I'd like to buy you a drink.

Oh, yeah?

Well, the last woman who bought me a drink, I married.

She died, and it damn near cost me my sanity,

so... no, thanks.

You lost a lot more than your wife, Mr. Walden.

I'm talking about someone

we both have a great deal of affection for.

-Who's that? -Your daughter Leslie.

What about her?

Byron Tokofsky thinks that he's in love with her.

He intends to marry her,

and he's got her so mixed up

that it might happen.

Why do I get the feeling

that you have some kind of agenda here?

Well, Byron and I have been together for about five years,

and Leslie was just a child then.

Quite obviously, she's a woman now.

But if Byron's ring goes on anybody's finger,

I want it to be mine.

Thanks for coming.

I want you to understand something.

What I was into before... that's over.

When your mother died the way she did...

I loved her so much, Leslie.

More than you could've known or understood at the time.

I was angry, afraid.

I was full of self-pity.

You were full of drugs.

You were full of alcohol.

It weren't a whole lot better than shooting myself in the head.

And I thought of that, too.

I want to tell you I'm sorry.

I... I don't want anything from you.

And to deal with the resentment

and the pain I know I've caused.

God, I wish I could believe that.

Then I could almost forgive you.

But...

the truth is, I don't even know

why we're sitting here talking.

Ten years is such a long time. Byron's right.

You're ten years too late.

Just give me a chance, Leslie.

You're not on my schedule anymore, dad!

I have my music, and I have Byron.

We couldn't help but grow very fond of each other

in that time.

I thought you might have heard.

We're gonna marry in the Fall.

Leslie... Leslie, no. Listen to me.

I know what Byron has done for you,

but you don't owe him a thing.

Your only obligation is to yourself, honey,

and to your talent.

There's nothing he can do for you anymore.

From now on, he'll just be taking and taking.

Believe me, I know him.

Damn you! Just go away, okay?

As far as I'm concerned,

my father does not exist anymore!

-Leslie... -No! Does not exist!

[keyboard playing]

Hey, you've been practicing!

[laughs] Don't con me, Solly.

That's what piano teachers say

to restore hope in students they know are hopeless.

The better news is,

you've helped me to find a musical oddity

that I can use in my book.

It's got to do with the difference

between C Sharp and D Flat.

-They're the same note. -Exactly.

There's something very suspicious about that.

[doorbell rings]

Excuse me.

-Oh, I'm sorry. -It's all right, Leslie.

We just finished. Please come in.

I didn't want to go upstairs,

so I thought that maybe I could come...

Remember what I said...

4H, just down the hall.

I still owe you that dinner.

Please, have a seat.

He's nice, but he just doesn't understand.

I'm not sure that I understand, either, Leslie.

I'm so sorry about the museum program.

I know Byron's been really difficult about it.

Look, dear, if it doesn't happen,

it's not the end of the world.

But that's not what's on your mind, surely.

I don't know.

All of a sudden, my father wants his daughter back.

Can you imagine that?

This mysterious piece of information you got for me, Owen,

better be worth the hour it took to get across town.

Key question, Steve... what would it do to your record company

if Tokofsky reneged on your exclusive deal with Leslie?

In a word, disaster. What the hell is this about?

You hocked your socks to put up a million in guarantees, right?

If you recall, the deal was never signed.

Go on.

Bodie records came in last month

with a contract for twice what you put up.

He can't do that. We got a letter of agreement.

Trust me, short of Tokofsky getting hit by a truck,

it's a done deal.

He tried to keep a lid on it,

but Bodie's attorney is a friend of mine.

I can't believe it.The creep's doing me just like he did you.

But there's a window, buddy.

Bodie stipulated that Leslie sign in her own right.

Meaning it's her decision.

We have a good relationship, she and I.

She likes, trusts me.

I can get to her. It's a cinch I'll be back as her manager.

But you, Steve, working alone... you got no position.

What's it gonna cost me, Owen?

Nothing you can't afford with Leslie on the label.

Think about it. You still got time.

Yeah, all of two weeks.

Wrong. You've got till noon tomorrow.

I'll be in touch.

[Byron] The airline tickets still haven't arrived...

Oh, come in, Mrs. Fletcher.

Byron will be off the phone any minute.

Oh, uh, this was left in the lobby

for Mr. Tokofsky.

Oh, could you see that he gets it?

I'd stop and chat, but I'm running late for the concert.

Of course. Is Leslie around?

No, we don't know where Leslie is.

She hasn't been in since this morning.

That's very strange.

Oh, I'm sorry. I've got to run.

[Byron] Please let me know as soon as possible.

Fine, I'll speak to you tomorrow.

Okay? Thank you.

Join me over here, Mrs. Fletcher.

Ah.

Richie asked me to bring this up for you.

Another impoverished composer, I'll wager,

begging to have their work performed.

And too shy even to put his or her name on it.

Mr. Tokofsky, I really would like to talk about, um...

Oh, yes, this museum thing?

Byron, I'm off. And don't forget,

it's box night out, so there's a sandwich in the pantry.

Mrs. Fletcher.

The museum thing-- you were saying.

I won't waste my time or yours.

The benefit is out of the question, Mrs. Fletcher.

Yes, well...

I can't say that I wasn't prepared.

But since I'm here, can we talk about Leslie?

I'm very concerned about her.

She's very confused, and she's upset.

I think part of it is the pressure that she feels from--

Mrs. Fletcher, Leslie is my business, my responsibility.

She and I hardly need faint-hearted busybodies

creating imaginary psychoses.

Mr. Tokofsky, two hours ago,

she left my apartment in a state close to hysteria.

One doesn't have to be a psychiatrist to see

that she's a severely conflicted young woman.

The return of her father--

The reality, Mrs. Fletcher,

is that you don't have the faintest clue at all

about Leslie's state of mind.

Now, if you'd be good enough to let yourself out.

-Mr. Tokofsky-- -Please, Mrs. Fletcher.

[playing]

The line of fire indicates a single round

fired from the rooftop across the street,

entering through an open window

and hitting the decedent in the back,

causing massive trauma on the exit passage

in the area of the sternum

and stopping in the piano.

It's a soft-point bullet.

.308. Come on, it'll be no help to us all.

Okay, forgive the interruption. Was that it, then?

Well, those were my last minutes with him.

The doorman, Richard Kanpinski,

he says an envelope arrived late yesterday from an unknown party.

It had no label or return address.

It's odd, don't you think?

It contained these music sheets.

Mr. Tokofsky seemed accustomed, even flattered,

to receive unsolicited compositions.

Uh-huh. Come on, let's get the boys to move it.

We have to clear this crime scene by noon.

Jessica...

Vanessa Cross told me that Walden told her

that when he bugged out about ten years ago,

he left a bunch of his own compositions with his daughter.

And he claimed Tokofsky appropriated them.

I'm afraid I can't help you.

There is one other thing, though.

Walden's daughter Leslie disappeared yesterday.

She was a very disturbed young woman,

and I'm really worried for her.

Vanessa, I am so sorry.

I wasn't here for him.

He died alone.

Who could've done such a thing?

If it's any consolation, Lieutenant DiMartini

is one of the City's best homicide investigators.

I'm afraid to think how this is going to affect Leslie.

Byron was her whole life.

[crying]

The tour promoters are saying

that Leslie has her pick of Bleiberg, Schantz or Kolorovsky,

three of the hottest conductors going.

I talked to the agency people this morning.

The endorsement package is still in place.

Leslie's face is gonna be in every women's magazine in the country.

Have you talked to Leslie yet?

Not yet.

No one can find her, right?

So this is all blue sky

until you can sit down and remake your deal with her.

Listen, trust me, it'll happen.

But it's time we made our arrangement.

-You got a problem? -Yeah, 15% is a problem.

For you to advise her to go with Paradigm instead of Bodie...

no more than standard management commission fees.

Oh, come on! Call it like it is, a kickback!

I'm beginning to think I should just talk to her myself.

Be my guest, Steve.

She'll ask my advice, of course,

and I'll have to be honest with her...

and tell her that I think Bodie's deal

is a hell of a lot better.

Yesterday, you were out of a job.

Today, you're running things.

The only difference is

that Tokofsky's conveniently dead.

That supposed to mean something?

You tell me.

I'll have the papers drawn up

and faxed to you tomorrow.

Sign them or don't sign them.

It's up to you.

[newscaster] Now an update on the bizarre penthouse murder

of conductor/composer Byron Tokofsky,

and his stranger-than-fiction Svengali relationship

with the piano prodigy Leslie Walden.

The latest break came earlier today here,

outside this midtown precinct,

where homicide detective Peter DiMartini

faced our cameras.

I have a statement here.

A suspect in the murder of Byron Tokofsky

has been detained. His named is Hank Walden,

Leslie Walden's father.

We believe the perpetrator shot the deceased

from a rooftop across from the penthouse,

and we have reason to believe

that Mr. Walden was on the rooftop.

There's a history of animosity

between him and the victim.

[doorbell rings]

Jessica, Leslie's gone.

I know, Solly, and everybody is very concerned.

Please come in.

She was with me most of the afternoon.

She was with you?

I found her at my door around 2 o'clock.

She just curled up on my couch,

into herself, not saying anything.

Later, I figured she needed something to eat.

I don't keep much in my fridge.

I went out for some take-home.

I came back just now, and she was gone.

Well, you have reason to worry.

Look, does she know

that her father has been arrested

for the murder of Mr. Tokofsky?

'Cause it was on the news just now.

She never said, and I didn''t want to bring it up.

But the TV was on when I came back from the store.

I think you should get back to your apartment just in case she returns,

and I'll let you know if I hear anything.

If you see her,

she needs to hear from somebody she trusts.

I know.

I think she trusts you, Solly.

[distant piano playing]

Byron said I could never play without him.

But you can.

And beautifully.

After I left you yesterday, I...

I just couldn't face Byron.

I couldn't deal with him.

He'd begun to want something else from me.

And I was so naive

not to see what was happening,

not to see how our relationship was changing.

Will you tell me where you went?

I don't remember much.

I was so out of it.

I took the subway to the end of the line,

and by the time I got back, it was dark.

I didn't want to go home, so...

I just walked, and I walked.

Anybody else would've gotten mugged... or worse.

But I guess it was because I didn't care, right?

Solly was very worried about you,

along with everyone else.

Well, everyone else can go to hell.

Vanessa used me...

Owen can butt out.

And I'm not playing Byron's suite, either.

He didn't write it.

I understand it was your father's.

-You heard? -Yes, I heard.

I just can't believe that he killed Byron.

He was never that upset about anything.

Not enough to kill someone.

What if I could arrange for you

to talk to your father tomorrow?

They did find my fingerprints.

And that's because I was up there on the roof.

But I wasn't up there to kill anybody.

Believe me.

Why?

It's gonna sound stupid, but I...

it just, at the time, seemed like the only way

that I could be part of what was going on in your life.

To be able to see you.

Before mom died,

when we were all together,

I wasn't afraid of anything.

Then one day I remember seeing you

sitting there, crying.

And...it frightened me,

and I didn't know why.

That night, I had a nightmare.

And I called for mom to come to me.

And you didn't.

God, I needed you so much.

I don't expect you to forgive me, honey.

Just, uh...

these last couple of days, I...

I've just been trying to understand.

You know? Just trying to...

to put myself in your place, that's all.

A takedown rifle was found hidden in a duct on the roof.

A matching cartridge casing was nearby, but no prints.

A takedown rifle?

So whoever brought it up to the roof

could've broken it down into smaller pieces

and concealed it in something else?

Like a Clarinet case.

Somebody got past that late deskman.

The super says that he sleeps a lot, so who's to know?

Somebody, meaning that you're not convinced

that it was Hank Walden. Neither is Leslie.

Jessica, intuition is fine,

but this fella doesn't exactly get A's for stability.

He loses his wife, and he goes bonkers.

He gives up his 8-year-old daughter to Tokofsky.

And he resigns from the human race.

Peter, that was ten years ago.

-Okay, okay. -Does it makes sense

that he left fingerprints on the roof

and not on the gun?

There's something so pat about that,

as if it were planted to make you think

to make you think it was fired from the roof.

You talked to forensics. The line of fire

says that the bullet was from there.

The window was open.

If it were closed, the bullet would've shattered it,

and I'd have to agree with you.

That's reverse logic.

Or intuition.

Then there's the music manuscript

delivered before the murder.

Walden denies it,

but I bet he sent it.

No fingerprints on the envelope,

no fingerprints on the sheet music.

That suckered Tokofsky over to the piano...

so it gave Walden a clear shot right through the window.

And no authorship. Just a blatant appeal to Tokofsky's vanity.

Everything okay, Leslie?

Yes, thank you.

We'll be with you in a moment.

Lieutenant, would it be possible

for me to get a photocopy of that music?

Yeah, sure, okay.

At the time, they were.

No name, no return address

and no fingerprints.

Sounds fishy to me.

Let's play it.

[playing keyboard]

[dissonant chord]

That chord is definitely wrong, Solly.

That's the way it's written.

But why would a presumably aspiring musician

send a flawed manuscript to Byron Tokofsky?

Unless...

uh, play it again, Solly.

[plays dissonant chord]

[chiming]

Of course.

In the murderer's view of things,

it didn't have to make musical sense.

Solly, what happened to that dinner

that Leslie missed earlier tonight?

Frozen fettuccini alfredo a la Solly Prints.

How about it?

It was the same caliber, Jessica. We both know that.

But the bullet mushroomed,

so we couldn't match it up with the rifle.

Then I believe that the shot

could've been fired from within the penthouse.

Jessica, with all due respect to your reputation,

I'm about to take the bus home on this one.

You said there was nobody with Tokofsky

when you left the penthouse.

Granted. But I think I know

how it may have been done and who the killers are.

Wait, wait. The killers?

C Sharp and D Flat.

Two killers with the same purpose.

Peter, I think I have a way to prove it,

but I'm gonna need your help.

Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, I'm sorry if I surprised you, Vanessa.

May I ask what you're doing here?

I misplaced my glasses.

And what about you?

I left my belongings.

Oh. A wild guess...

they're in the credenza.

Somewhere in there, as it happens.

Oh, not just somewhere. In the secretary.

And I suspect they'll provide proof

that Mr. Tokofsky's murder was planned within the last month,

and that Hank Walden was nearly a handy scapegoat.

You're speaking in riddles, Mrs. Fletcher.

It was that window that was the riddle, Vanessa.

When I came here last night, it was closed.

And yet, as I was leaving the penthouse, it was open.

It was only later that I remembered.

And I wondered when and how that happened.

And then I realized that when Mr. Tokofsky was seated at the desk,

the window was obscured from view.

Leslie and Bok were gone.

You were the only other person in the house,

the only person who could've opened it.

Are you saying that I climbed up on that roof?

Oh, no. But you contrived

to make the police think that's where the shot was fired from.

And to do that, the window had to be open.

Are you accusing me of shooting Byron here?

My hunch is that nobody actually pulled the trigger.

Tokofsky was driven to play a piece of music

designed to make him a victim of his own vanity and curiosity.

You must know this piece, Vanessa.

Now, there's a chord here that is wrong.

I'm not much of a pianist, but...

[plays dissonant chord]

Ah.

This afternoon, a TV commercial

reminded me that specific sound

can activate micro-electric responses,

as with a voice-activated VCR or computer,

which in turn could cause the secretary to open

and the gun inside to fire,

killing Byron Tokofsky.

You actually think I have the expertise

to do something like that?

No, I don't.

But I think you had a very able accomplice...

whose fingerprints on the inner workings of that secretary

will almost certainly indict him.

[DiMartini] Or the money, Mrs. Fletcher.

We caught Mr. Hoyt coming in the lobby.

He was carrying a very interesting little bag of tricks.

Those tools were an urgent necessity, Lieutenant.

Steve and Miss Cross were undoubtedly here tonight

to dismantle the murder device.

I'd appreciate...

your accompanying this officer

to the precinct, Miss Cross.

Steve, surely you realized

it could just as easily have been Leslie sitting here.

Not just as easily, Jessica.

It was Tokofsky's ego that killed him.

Well, you were right, Jessica.

Both had motive enough.

Tokofsky's will was drawn up three years ago.

It must've been during happier days,

because he left Miss Cross a substantial annuity

in the event that he pre-deceased her.

May I ask you something?

How'd you know about Steve Hoyt?

With the Bodie Records deal

virtually done a month ago,

his company was out on a limb.

He told me he spent some time here last week

updating the sound equipment.

Time enough to rig up that gizmo.

Well, thanks for the call.

Tell me, do you have any extra tickets

to Miss Walden's museum recital?

Oh, I might arrange that? One or two?

That depends on you, Jessica.

Well... make it two, then.

[laughter]

Richie tells me that you're off tomorrow on your world tour.

Where is your first stop?

A week in London, then Paris,

and then, in September I'll be in Hamburg.

Oh, I envy you.

So you know...

I wangled a gig on a cruise ship

that docks there right at that time.

Well, maybe I'll see you there.

Hey, we're short a clarinet, Hank.

Okay, but I don't do sidewalks anymore.

[laughter]