-Is there a doctor here? -I'm a doctor. What's wrong?
Doctor, my son is terribly sick. Come quickly.
[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
What did you put in that food?
It was murder.
I may be a lousy cook but I never killed anybody.
My job is bad food, not murder.
Why don't you just stick us with a needle and get it over with?
You walk out on me to work in this kind of a tourist trap.
This state
should have sheriff IQ tests.
Of course! Excuse me. Pardon me.
She really shouldn't spend so much time in this town.
[cheerful orchestral music]
Sheriff.
Bo. Nice seeing you.
Where have you been?
I haven't seen you for breakfast anymore.
Where are you on your way to in such a hurry?
Joshua Peabody Inn up by the interstate.
You too?
Now, what's that place got that Dixon's Diner ain't got?
History.
Be seeing you, Bo.
History.
-Breakfast time. -[Jessica] But I've had breakfast.
Ha. I know what you had--
Dry toast and a cup of tea.
That's mere food.
This is an experience.
Seth, I have got work to do.
Well, you can write about this.
It's not your basic fast-food shed, you know.
Well, let me put it to you another way:
this is Amos Tupper's favorite dining place.
Oh, dear. [chuckling]
-Dupree! -Ow!
Where is that ham and eggs for five?
Oh, terrific!
Now we can serve ham and eggs a la Transylvania.
That's not too bad.
Put a bandage on it and take the rest of the morning off.
Oh, yes, yes, take the morning off, the afternoon.
Why not the whole week?
One less cook to spoil the pot.
Is it my fault that you can't cook a decent breakfast?
You call this a decent breakfast,
a bowl of sugar cracklies?
We give the folks what they want.
Oh! What the hell are you doing with that?
You said you wanted me to cook.
Cinnamon on a cheese omelet? What'll it be next, rat poison?
If you don't like it, fire me.
Now, why on earth would you want to stop at this place?
Oh, lighten up, Willy.
We can't wait till Boston to use the ladies'.
Well, the plumbing's bound to be better than the food.
Now, why do you think that?
I don't know if I like the looks of this one either.
Look, sweetheart, we're running late.
It's either this place or that diner we passed back in town.
Well, Hawthorne.
-I didn't think you'd show up. -Why not, Ebeneezer?
First you promised to support my bill...
Then you engineer its defeat,
then you make me the laughing stock of the town council!
Why did you show up?
Well, a man's gotta eat, doesn't he?
After you, Ebeneezer.
Didn't know so many folks ate breakfast out in Cabot Cove.
Most of them seem to have been tempted in from the highway.
Yeah.
Those ladies over there
certainly aren't from around here,
not in those ensembles.
That's Italian suede.
What's the matter with that?
Oh, absolutely nothing.
The One-if-by-Land, Two-if-by-Sea
surf and turf platter?
[laughing] Oh, wait, wait, wait, wait.
Here is my favorite.
The Benjamin Franklin-furter with beans.
Hi, miladies, I'm your serving girl this morning.
May I take your order?
Well, uh, the, uh, eggs Benedict Arnold sound good.
Would you like that with popovers or corn muffins?
Oh, I really shouldn't.
We have homemade marmalade and strawberry preserves.
I'll take both. And don't you say a word.
I would like something light.
Give me the Life, Liberty, and Prosciutto Happiness
with melon.
Thank you.
Mind if I join you, Ms. Fletcher, Doc?
Oh, not at all, Amos. Sit down.
Plenty of room. Belly up.
Yeah, Floyd's kind of short on tables.
Thanks to good customers like Sheriff Tupper.
Yeah, old Joshua Peabody'd be mighty proud of this.
Amos, as I have repeatedly told you,
there isn't any Joshua Peabody.
He's just a local legend.
What are you talking about?
His picture's all over the place!
Uh, what's the ETA on my wife's toast?
Uh, ETA, Sir?
-Estimated time of arrival. -Oh.
Where is the toast?
Have you looked in the toaster?
Look, Dupree, if you think you can get me sore enough
to let you out of the contract, it won't work.
No?
My goodness, Cornelia.
I didn't know you'd left Dixon's Diner.
All my customers started coming here,
so I thought I might as well join them.
At least in the diner,
you didn't have to dress up as Betsy Ross.
Doctors who make their rounds in hip boots
hardly qualify as fashion experts.
[laughing]
Could you bring us the check?
I'll be right back.
We'll miss the ETA in Boston.
Will you relax?
This is supposed to be a vacation.
What I wouldn't give to be back in the office.
Guess what? They don't have bathrooms.
They have Adams rooms.
You get a choice: the John or the Abigail.
[laughing]
Well, well, Benedict Arnold.
With popovers or corn muffins?
No, no, I didn't mean that.
I meant you, traitor.
You walk out on me to work in this kind of a tourist trap?
I've got to go where the tips are.
Oh.
Would you like to order now?
Cornelia, would you just bring me a hamburger, please?
-Bangor burger or Salem steak? -I don't care what you call it!
Just bring it so I can find out what's so damn special
about this place.
Floyd sure gives you enough to eat.
Good prices too.
I don't know how he does it.
Excuse me. You finished with the preserves?
Oh, oh, go ahead. I'm watching my weight anyway.
Thank you.
Aren't you going to have any strawberry preserves, Amos?
Strawberries give me a rash.
Watching your weight might not be such a bad idea.
Oh, do you mind, Doc? I'd like to enjoy my breakfast.
-Are you through with this? -Oh, uh, take it away, please.
You're never going to get away with this, Hawthorne!
You know what I've got at stake here.
-Oh, shh! -Don't you--
Don't you shush me, Mercer Hawthorne!
All right then.
I'll tell everybody here you're a crook!
You know, you are getting awfully close to libel.
Libel's when you can't prove it.
I can.
You want to talk about kickbacks?
Something I can do for you, friend?
Oh, well...
I, uh--I think Mr. Dixon
just wants to see what a real kitchen looks like.
Right, Bo?
I, uh-- I smell something burning.
Hmm? [sizzling]
Oh, you are trying to put me out of business.
Oh!
You, uh, need any help?
Yes; help yourself out of my kitchen.
-Are you finished with this? -Yes.
Waitress, may I have the check?
I can't let you do that, Jess. This was my idea.
No, no, I insist.
You might have won at chess last night
if you hadn't had to leave to deliver Mrs. Olson's baby.
That is a dead-bang certainty,
but it's got nothing to do with this check.
Say, is Amos's feast on there?
Mine's on the house.
Well, bein' the sheriff and all, it's customary.
-Ready? -Stuffed.
Oh, and this is what you serve instead of mustard and relish?
It's been a busy morning.
And that's supposed to make me feel better?
Mustard, relish, Cornelia. Go, go, go.
Oh, ma'am? You forgot to sign this.
Oh, I'm sorry.
Thank you.
Now, will that be cash?
-Yes. -You do accept it, don't you?
Betty, I want to leave that nice waitress a tip.
I'll meet you at the car.
-Is there a doctor here? -What? What'd he say?
I'm a doctor. What's wrong?
Doctor, my son is terribly sick!
Come quick!
[gasps]
Are you feeling all right?
I'm not sure. I think so.
He's feverish, and his pupils are dilated.
Hey, Doc? Hey, Doc!
-Doc! -Yes!
He suddenly fell.
-It's the same symptoms. -Hey, Doc!
Yes!
What's going on?
Get everybody out. Get everybody out!
Don't touch anything. Don't move anything.
Don't clean anything. Just close it up right now!
-Seth, what is it? -I don't know.
We've got to get these people to a county hospital
and then notify the state health department.
I've never seen anything like it.
What did you put in that food?
[woman crying]
She's dead.
[crying continues]
[siren wailing]
Wait. Excuse me, who?
Mercer, don't be concerned.
I know everything is going to be all right.
I'll be by to check you later.
Margo Perry, state health.
Ah, yes, go ahead.
Well, you certainly got here quickly.
Chopper.
Is there someplace quiet where you can fill us in?
-Us? -The state.
What about that office?
Look, I do have some patients to attend to, Miss Perry.
-And it seems to me-- -It's "Mrs.," doctor.
And you can tend to them best by getting me
as quickly to work as possible.
Oh, all--All right.
Jessica, Amos, would you, uh, come with me?
You must be the sheriff.
That's right, ma'am. Amos Tupper.
-And you are? -Jessica Fletcher.
-Doctor? -Uh, no, writer.
Good; we're gonna need the media's help.
Well, I'm a mystery writer, I'm afraid.
Purpose?
Ms. Fletcher was in the restaurant.
She's the most observant person I know.
Well, what are we waiting for?
-The door? -Oh.
I'm running the usual tests.
The symptoms are closest to those of botulism,
but botulism takes anywhere from 12 to 36 hours.
I'm aware of its gestation period.
[chuckles] Baffling.
You seem pleased.
Oh, I'm always pleased, Mrs. Fletcher,
when I might be on to something new.
Half the time,
we never do discover what we're dealing with anyway.
So any additional challenge is, um, enticing.
Well, now, the first step
is to have everyone who's been exposed report for tests.
Sheriff, you'll alert the media?
The media, ma'am?
Oh, you mean Phil up the radio station?
Don't you have a TV station?
Lots. Oh, none of them local.
What's the name of this town again?
-Ham. -Check.
I had some of that.
-Syrup. -Uh, check.
-I had some of that. -Marmalade.
-Yo. -I had some of that too.
You had some of everything, Amos.
Uh, Mrs. Perry, there's only one jar here.
The others seem to have two. Floyd?
Mrs. Fletcher, I'm interested in what's here,
not what's not here.
Be sure you get enough for two sets,
and send one to HQ.
Floyd.
Floyd, do you remember who was sitting at that table?
No, I don't.
I expect Cornelia would know.
[Mrs. Perry] Waffles.
Uh, we get those from the franchiser.
Amos, are you feeling all right?
Hmm? Oh, yes, ma'am.
-Great; never better. -Oh, good.
Would you mind driving me back to the hospital then?
-My pleasure. -Thanks.
Five to seven... [indistinct]
-Seth, there's something that I need to-- -Jessica, Amos, I'm so glad to see you.
I have to examine everyone who was at the inn today.
Even if we don't exhibit the symptoms?
Just to be on the safe side. Chances are if you'd had a dose of this...
Why you would have collapsed long ago!
You know what they say, Doc, better safe than sorry.
Uh, excuse me. My wife, Wilhelmina Fraser;
I just learned she's ill.
-Mr. Fraser? -Yes.
I'm Dr. Hazlitt.
Oh, I drove down from Portland as soon as I heard.
Oh, I don't want you to worry. Your wife has had a mild case.
She's a little bit uncomfortable,
but she's going to be okay.
Well, that's a relief. May I see her?
Yes, but before that,
I think, perhaps, I'd better tell you something.
Uh, excuse me, Sir.
Your Rolls Royce is blocking the ambulance entrance.
Here.
Your wife's friend, Miss, uh, Fiddler...
Yes?
I'm afraid she didn't make it.
What?
-You mean she-- -Yeah.
-Oh, my God. -Uh, now, uh, Jessica.
-Oh, God. -Sit down, please.
Oh, Betty.
Mr. Fraser, I'm so very sorry about your friend.
Yes. Yes, of course.
Thank you. Thank you.
Perhaps you'd like to see your wife.
She's still in a state of shock over the death of her friend.
Of course I would.
Ah, wh-where is she?
I'll take you to her room.
Seth, Seth. Something is bothering me.
-Jess, you feeling poorly? -Oh, no, no, I'm feeling fine.
Look, but isn't it medically possible
that someone could have planted the poison in the food?
Sure, if they had access to a culture
and the wherewithal to transport it.
Why do you ask?
Well, but if the poison
wasn't found in anything in the restaurant,
I mean, isn't it logical to assume
that it could have been in something
that was taken out of the restaurant?
Maybe so. It's a possibility.
Of course, there are a lot of other possibilities too.
[chuckling] Oh, really!
Why, Mrs. Perry, I didn't realize you were with us.
We were just, uh, speculating.
Perhaps running tests might be a more effective use
of your time, Dr. Hazlitt, instead of developing
useless speculations with a crisis hound.
A what?
Oh, there's one in every town, Mrs. Fletcher.
Some amateur who gloms on to a crisis
and tries to turn an incident
that has a perfectly normal scientific solution
into a Byzantine plot.
Now, just hold your horses!
You haven't found that other jar anywhere?
Not even in the garbage. Is it important?
Well, I'm not sure.
Floyd, do you have any enemies?
Just my chef, who doesn't want to cook.
No, I mean someone capable of doing something like this
to destroy you.
Only my chef, who doesn't want to cook.
-Well, does he have a key? -Oh, yes, yes.
He gets in early to prep breakfast.
I couldn't help but overhear something about a contract.
Mm-hmm, yes.
You see, I paid his way over here from France.
And in return, he agreed to work here for three years.
Hell, I thought he was French.
You mean, you brought him over here
without knowing anything about him?
Well, I knew this much:
he comes from a famous family of chefs.
His grandfather ran the Vin Rouge in Cannes,
and his father practically invented nouvelle cuisine.
Well, that's a very impressive pedigree.
But how did you ever get him to agree to cook here?
I mean, in America?
Well, it happens he was born in Pittsburgh.
He wanted to get back.
Now that I've paid his way,
he's trying to get me to fire him.
See, that's the only way he can get out of his contract.
[phone rings] Excuse me.
Joshua Peabody inn.
Oh, oh, sure. Yes, Doc.
Yes, you want to talk to her. All right.
That was Doc Hazlitt.
He wants you over at the hospital.
Oh, great.
I think I know what the poison is.
It's strictly from symptomatic observation.
Well, that's just what's been gnawing at me, the symptoms.
These people have been getting sick much too quickly.
They're all flushed and delirious.
None of this jibes with botulism
or any other food poisoning I have ever run across.
That doesn't necessarily mean--
What about you, Mrs. Perry?
Negative.
Then I remembered a line they taught us at med school.
"Red as a beet, mad as a Hatter."
These are the symptoms of atropine poisoning.
Atropine? Isn't that like belladonna?
Yep. Quick, nasty.
And it can look a heck of a lot like botulism.
-Then it's still bad? -Deadly.
This is all speculation.
There's no real way to know
until the tests on the food samples are complete.
Maybe yes, maybe no.
I have some of the antidote, physostigmine.
Now, if my patients respond to that,
then we will have learned something, won't we?
Of course.
Not necessarily.
Oh, come on. Mrs. Perry, get off your badge.
It cannot hurt anyone,
and it might save some of those people
who otherwise might not make it if we wait around for the tests.
Uh...
I'd like to volunteer to try it out, Doc,
just to set an example for the community.
That's brave of you, Amos.
You know what this means, Seth.
If I'm right, you're right.
I'm afraid I don't follow you, doctor.
Atropine would have had to be deliberately planted.
Then it isn't food poisoning.
It's-it's poison in the food, and that means--
It was murder.
Amos, you don't really need this shot.
You have none of the symptoms.
I never said I did.
Course, I do have this ringing in my ears.
Expect they just need cleaning out.
There's a funny feeling at the pit of my stomach.
Your pit must be packed after that breakfast.
-Oh, yeah, but, Doc-- -Why, Amos, you're very brave.
All day, you thought you'd been poisoned,
and you never said a word.
Well, be thankful you're allergic to strawberries.
How's that? Ah!
Well, the one thing we know for sure
that's missing from the inn
is a jar of strawberry preserves.
Do you have any idea who might have taken it?
No, but I think I know someone who might know.
Cornelia, it must be very unsettling,
changing jobs so rapidly.
Nah, I'm just glad to be working at all.
I didn't know if Mr. Dixon would hire me back.
Cornelia, at the inn, there was a table with a single setting.
And the customer ordered a hamburger
but didn't eat it all.
-Do you remember who that was? -No way I could forget.
-It was Mr. Dixon. -That's odd.
Why did he order preserves?
No, he didn't. It was my mistake.
I brought it to him instead of the pickle relish.
He looked like he wanted to fire me,
only it wasn't his restaurant.
Well, I guess Mrs. Fairley's strawberry preserves
don't go with everything.
I don't know. People just love 'em.
The jar that you put on his table,
was it, uh, fairly low?
I was just about to refill it
when Mr. O'Connor ran in for Doc Hazlitt.
Oh, then it was you who took it off the table?
No, ma'am. I forgot.
Well, with everything going on, you understand.
You know, Mrs. Fletcher, sometimes Bo isn't so bad.
He rushed right out to see what he could do,
left his whole meal practically untouched.
Didn't take his jacket or anything.
Cornelia, what is this, a hen party here or what, huh?
[chuckles] I did say "sometimes."
[Amos] Bo Dixon! Of course!
Amos, stop jumping to conclusions!
You're talking to the world record holder of conclusion jumping.
Well, it adds up, doesn't it?
Bo was boiling because Floyd Nelson opened up the Joshua Peabody Inn
and took away all of his business.
Now, what better way to get even,
than by putting something in the food.
First of all, we have no proof that the jar of strawberry jam
contained the poison.
Second, Cornelia said that Bo left the restaurant
and did not take anything with him. And third,
that the jar of strawberry preserves arrived at Bo's table
after everybody was poisoned.
There's your answer. Cornelia!
Answer, what's the question?
Who better had the opportunity of passing that jar of preserves
to everybody who got sick?
-Cornelia? -Sure, they were in cahoots!
Some of that poison could have been meant for me.
Oh, not you, Amos.
Well, I did lead most of Bo's customers away.
Not on purpose, of course.
You know what they say...
"If Sheriff Tupper goes, so goes Cabot Cove."
-Who says that? -Everybody!
...When it comes to food.
I must be travelling the wrong circles.
I don't recall hearing that. [laughs]
Amos, wait.
Look, as long as we're playing
"who would want to make the Joshua Peabody Inn look bad,"
the chef is doing everything possible
to get out of his contract with Floyd.
-And the best way would be-- -To close the inn for good!
So now I've got two suspects.
Three, if you want to count Cornelia.
I know who did it, and I know why.
Why, Mercer!
How nice to see you up and about.
Well, I won't be vertical for long
if the sheriff doesn't arrest Eb McEnery.
Oh, now, Merce.
You two fellas have been into it for years.
Not this time.
I told him I had a Photostat of a $10,000 kickback
that he got from a thieving Portland contractor.
Oh, you mean, the one who's always underbidding
your brother-in-law?
Right as rain.
And not ten minutes later, I was sick as a dog.
You didn't have any of those strawberry preserves
this morning?
I sure did, but McEnery didn't.
Is that how he slipped it to me, in the preserves?
Uh, excuse me, please.
Mrs. Fraser, how much strawberry preserves did you have?
I don't know. A little.
And Betty?
Gobs, I'm afraid.
I kept telling her she shouldn't eat so many sweets.
That squares with their relative symptoms.
Well, this should cheer you up, Mrs. Fraser.
If you keep responding this well,
you'll be out of here tonight.
Oh, thank you, doctor.
That's wonderful, isn't it, darling?
-Harrison? -What?
Oh, yes, wonderful.
Preliminary tests show negative results
for all substances.
Uh, what is that in English?
In English? Pfft.
There's nothing toxic
in anything they took from the restaurant.
Well, thank goodness for that.
Floyd will be very relieved.
It also means that the atropine
had to be in that missing jar
of Mrs. Fairley's preserves,
as our amateur crisis hound thought.
Not necessarily.
It could have been in something
from which there were no leftovers.
Like what?
I'm a scientist not a waitress.
Well, then let's look at this scientifically.
I mean, your tests prove
that everything was clean at the restaurant.
But what if somebody removed our most likely cause?
More speculation.
Can science show how a jar of preserves
might get up and walk out all on its own?
You think you're looking at this scientifically,
but you're not.
-There are many possibilities. -Yes?
For example, that single jar of preserves
could have been tainted.
No atropine, no murder.
Yes, I think I'd like to see that Fairley company's plant.
Well, actually, there is no plant, exactly.
Just the widow Fairley and her kitchen.
Do you mean to tell me that this town
allows some old lady
to sell homemade food out of her home?
For heaven's sakes, Mrs. Perry.
We've been enjoying Mrs. Fairley's preserves for years.
Lucky you, all of you.
Where might I find this haven of free enterprise?
Well, surely you're not gonna close her down.
I mean, this is her only form of income.
My concern is for public welfare.
Well, the trouble with that is that it,
uh, occasionally is done
at the expense of the innocent individual.
[scoffs] That remains to be seen.
She reminds me of a drill sergeant I had once.
Seth, I just thought of something.
Am I wrong or did Mrs. Fairley's nephew
used to pick up the jams in the morning
and deliver them to the restaurants?
Nephew? Nephew?
Jess, you may be right.
-Councilman Ebenezer McEnery. -Right.
Oh, sheriff, just wait till you're up for reelection.
That's all I've got to say!
You had better be careful when you order a hamburger
at my place again, I'll tell you that.
I said listen!
Mercer Hawthorne says you tried to kill him
to prevent him going public with this kickback.
This was not a kickback.
This was a legitimate repayment of a loan,
and I've got the papers to prove it!
You know, maybe this state should have sheriff IQ tests.
[Amos] Bo, you yourself said
Floyd was trying to put you out of business.
If I were gonna poison people,
would I shoot my mouth off to the sheriff?
Now, would I?
Uh, well,
you both had motive and means and opportunity.
And you can't try both of them.
Ms. Fletcher.
Easy! Easy!
I have to whip up soufflés with these wrists.
Okay, both you fellas can go for the time being.
What do you mean, time being?
Just don't leave town.
We're not the ones that are gonna be looking
for another job somewhere else.
No, wait.
Before you do that, what's the penalty
for taking a poke at the sheriff?
Simmer down now.
I just want to ask you some questions.
-I guess you know Ms. Fletcher. -Intimately.
You know, Mr. Dupree, my husband and I
went to your grandfather's restaurant once
and had the most marvelous dinner.
He made a coulibiac, and it was heavenly.
-Couli-what? -[Jessica] Oh, you must ask him.
-I couldn't do it justice. -Uh, uh, yes, uh, coulibiac.
A special dish. Very, very tricky.
Oh, yes, the béarnaise sauce has to be just so.
Absolutely.
And the veal has to be very young and tender.
Now, that's the secret, tender veal.
No, Mr. Dupree, I'm afraid not.
Coulibiac is served with a butter sauce
and made with salmon.
Well, of course. I meant to say salmon.
Ms. Fletcher,
are you saying that this fella here is an imposter?
Oh, no, he's the real Alan Dupree.
He's just not a real chef.
Why? Because I flunked out of Cordon Bleu...
and because then I was fired by my father and my grandfather,
and now the final ignominy:
to be humiliated by the Julia Child of Cabot Cove.
Oh, I'm so sorry. That was not my intention.
Look, I may be a lousy cook, but I never killed anybody.
The way I hear it, you were pretty desperate
to get out of that contract.
Sure, because I couldn't do the job.
I mean, it was embarrassing.
And you had access to those preserves
before they left the kitchen.
So did a lot of other people. Floyd, for one.
Oh, doggone it. Floyd?
I can't bring everybody in town in here as a suspect.
Who else was in the kitchen, Mr. Dupree?
-Uh, you said there were others. -The guy who owns the diner.
Bo Dixon. I had a feeling about him.
Then there was this other guy. I never saw him before.
He came in the back door,
said he wanted to take a look at the dining room.
-So he took a look. -At what?
-Or whom? -Beats me.
He took a look, and then he split
while I was trying to pick eggshells out of an omelet.
A mysterious stranger, huh?
I've heard better stories from a poacher
with a trap in one hand and a rabbit in the other.
Amos, maybe we were a little too quick
to dismiss Mercer Hawthorne's suggestion.
About Eb McEnery tryin' to kill him?
No, that the killer's intention
wasn't to discredit the restaurant
but to kill one particular person with the preserves.
Sheriff!
While I was in the hospital visiting my wife,
one of your deputies stuck this ticket on my car.
-That's him. -That's who?
That's the guy who came into the kitchen this morning,
the one who was pokin' around where he didn't belong.
I tell you, that is the guy who I saw this morning.
You're mistaken, or you're lying.
-Oh, yeah? -Arnold!
Show this young fella to the cooler.
Last thing I need is for someone
to start throwing punches in my office.
You're locking up the wrong guy, sheriff!
As I recall, you were in Portland
when you got word about your wife.
That's true.
Uh, Amos, I'm sure there's a reasonable explanation...
Certainly.
For Mr. Fraser managing to be in two places at the same time.
Suppose we cut to the bottom line.
It's my word against his.
I have a great deal of influence in this part of New England.
Oh, I'm sure you do,
but connections won't help you
to evade a simple answer to a simple question.
We both know, Mr. Fraser,
that you've been under a great deal of stress,
with your wife's illness and her best friend's murder.
-It's a tragic situation. -Yes.
Betty was a fine woman.
Wilhelmina and I share a great loss.
Yes, I couldn't help but notice that you seemed
to take her death particularly hard.
She was my friend.
Oh, of course. And Wilhelmina is your wife.
And forgive me.
I don't understand how you can show so little concern
about her close call.
What are you implying?
Well, I'm curious as to which one of the two women
you were watching from the kitchen
or which one you were hiding from?
Have you forgotten?
I was in Portland.
I think this will cover the parking fine.
We don't see many Rolls Royces in Cabot Cove.
I'm sure someone will have noticed it
at the inn this morning.
[typing]
[doorbell rings]
Mrs. Fletcher, uh, forgive me if I've caught you at dinner.
Oh, no, I've, uh, already eaten.
I was hoping we could talk, you and I,
without the large ears of the law listening in.
-Please come in. -Thank you.
I'm sure you're right about someone having seen my car
at the inn earlier today.
Your sheriff's probably out rounding up witnesses
even as we speak.
He is very thorough.
But not very imaginative.
No doubt he will place me in that kitchen,
and then having done so, do something very stupid,
as well as embarrassing, to me and to my wife.
Uh, Mr. Fraser, I'm sure that you have a point to make.
It's simply this:
supposing for the moment that I was having an affair
with my wife's best friend,
would I be likely to terminate it so abruptly?
And why here, when it could easily be done in Portland?
If you had any idea how much I loved that woman...
why did you follow them, Mr. Fraser?
Betty insisted that I tell Wilhelmina about us.
I didn't think the timing was right.
When she suggested this trip to Willy,
just the two of them, together like schoolgirls,
I panicked.
I had to get to Betty to warn her to be patient.
Then it was her eye
you were trying to catch from the kitchen?
Yes.
I signaled to her, and then she met me
in the corridor by the restrooms.
She told me I was being ridiculous
and that they were having such a good time,
she didn't want to spoil it,
but that if I didn't tell Willy as soon as they got back,
it would be all over between us.
-And then you left? -Yes, by a rear door.
I was halfway home when I heard the radio report
of the food poisoning and that there were two women
from Portland among the victims.
And then, well, you know the rest.
Mr. Fraser, I suggest you tell your story to Sheriff Tupper.
I'm afraid that would be pointless.
If it comes to that,
I'll have my attorney do my talking for me.
You seem a decent woman.
I wanted you to know the truth.
Well, thank you for sharing it with me.
I'm going to, uh,
be picking my wife up in about an hour.
All I want now is just to put this, uh,
dreadful business behind us.
-Good-bye. -Good night, Mr. Fraser.
[Seth] And you, believe him?
Frankly, Seth, I don't know what to believe.
You look very tired. You ought to go home.
I'll go home when my patients are okay.
Oh, by the way, that young O'Connor kid,
-gonna be okay. -Oh, good.
I keep wondering, are we missing something?
Something right under our very noses that should be obvious and isn't?
Like what?
Killing someone with poisoned strawberry preserves,
isn't like...
Well, stabbing them with a dagger or...
Shooting them point blank with a pistol.
It's possible that the killer missed.
How do you mean?
I mean, supposing that the preserves got away from him?
And others got sick?
-That could have been a mistake. -Hm-mm.
And there could have been another mistake and the wrong person got killed.
If that's so, there may be no connection between the killer and Betty Fiddler.
This will only take a second, Mr. Dixon.
I'm busy.
Yes, but I'm sorry. This is very, very important.
So is making a living.
Some policemen can't seem
to get that through their thick heads
I am not here to defend Sheriff Tupper.
Mr. Dixon, when you rushed out of the inn
to help those poison victims,
do you recall who was still in the dining room?
Nope.
Did you see anyone who could have picked up
the jar of preserves from your table?
Nope.
Do you accept credit cards here in Peyton Place?
Yep.
I just love eating at diners.
No surprises.
Everything is just as you expect it to be.
Well, Mrs. Fletcher, I guess this is good-bye.
Oh, you're leaving before the case is solved?
My job is bad food, not murder.
-Thank you, ma'am. -Thank you.
I wish I could say it's been a pleasure.
Oh, there you are, my dear.
I left your tip on my credit card.
Oh, thank you.
Mrs. Perry, what did you say?
I left her tip on my credit card.
Oh, of course.
Well, isn't that what most people do?
Excuse me. Pardon me.
She really shouldn't spend so much time in this town.
[knocking on door]
[mouthing words]
Oh, been out here long, Ms. Fletcher?
Oh, I'm sorry to bother you again, Floyd,
but there's something that I need.
What exactly are you looking for?
This!
A credit card receipt?
Oh, it's much more than that.
You don't need the antidote. You have none of the symptoms
-and it's been what, ten hours. -Now, you listen,
We just drove 200 miles out of our way.
We messed up our ETAs for our entire trip and we're not leaving without those shots.
How do you feel?
Carsick.
Did you have any strawberry preserves this morning?
Uh-huh. We sure did.
And we heard on the radio, there's something wrong with them.
So, why don't you just stick us with a needle and get it over with?
Oh, but you needn't worry. You weren't exposed.
Seth, I need you.
I insist.
Thank you for taking such good care of me.
You're welcome. And thank you.
Ah.
Ready, dear?
Well, I still feel a little shaky.
Oh?
Maybe I should have another look at you.
Oh, no, really, I'm fine.
Why, Mrs. Fraser,
whatever became of your gorgeous suede purse?
You remember it, Seth?
Uh, now that you mention it.
Correct me if I'm wrong, Mr. Fraser,
but isn't that your friend Betty's shoulder bag?
Willy, why are you using it?
Harrison, don't be absurd.
If she can't explain it, maybe I can.
It all began with a jar
of Mrs. Fairley's strawberry preserves.
It started to circulate at the table of those tourists,
the ones who fussed about their toast and the ETAs.
They both ate some preserves.
Cornelia then brought the basket to your table, Mrs. Fraser,
where you had a little of the preserves.
But Betty had quite a bit, as you yourself told us.
Then Sheriff Tupper asked Betty if he could have the basket.
He ate a lot of marmalade but no preserves.
Cornelia then picked up the basket
and passed it on to the councilman
and then on to O'Connors, and, finally, to Bo Dixon.
And since the tourists didn't get sick
and several of the others did--
The poison had to be introduced into the preserves...
at Mrs. Fraser's table.
Exactly.
If you're accusing my wife of anything,
you should remember that she became ill too.
To avoid suspicion,
she ate a little of the preserves herself.
But wasn't that part of the plan?
You knew you and Betty would stop somewhere to eat,
so you took the atropine with you.
Something went wrong.
That's what I couldn't figure out.
I finally realized it was Sheriff Tupper.
Amos?
[Jessica] Well, Mrs. Fraser wasn't at her table
when he took the basket.
You hadn't counted on the preserves
leaving your table, and you had to get them back.
I heard you tell Betty at the door
that you were going back to the table
to leave a tip for Cornelia.
But you had already left her a tip a second earlier
on your credit card.
You didn't go back to leave a tip.
I believe you went back to find the jam jar,
to take away the evidence.
You put the jam jar in your suede purse.
It was the only place you could have concealed it.
And then when Betty collapsed outside,
Amos handed her purse to you.
May I see your shoulder bag, please?
No.
Thank you.
You followed the ambulance in your car.
The jar didn't have a lid.
You must have noticed
that the preserves had spilled into your purse.
Strawberries.
Preserves are terribly difficult
to get out of a suede purse, aren't they?
The road from the inn passes over Morgan's Creek.
It's shallow this time of year, isn't it, Seth?
Poor for fishing.
The sheriff could drag it, Mrs. Fraser.
Unless you want to save him the trouble.
When Betty suggested this trip, I did my homework.
At least I thought I did.
I was so sure it would look like botulism.
I didn't mean to make anyone else sick.
I only wanted to get Harrison back.
I never realized that he--
Harrison?
Well, I've got some bad news and some good news.
The bad news is,
the franchiser has closed the Joshua Peabody Inn.
But they can't.
It's practically a historical monument.
Well, they're trying to nip
any adverse publicity in the bud.
Oh, Floyd, I am so sorry.
But you said something about good news?
They've given me the franchise
for the Ethan Allen Inn in Vermont.
Wonderful! Congratulations.
Fair name for an inn.
At least we know Ethan Allen was real.