Did the victim die from the fire,
or from the blow to the head?
[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Only a fool would think that was an accident.
They seemed so happy.
We knew so little about her.
Oh, yes. She completely captivated Jim.
Oliver Quayle is a genius.
You know, he's never lost a murder trial.
I hadn't planned to leave.
I think it would be best for Jim if you did.
Madam, it seems that one of New England's
most respected families
is a breeding ground for homicidal maniacs.
[cheerful orchestral music]
-Good morning. -I'm Jessica Fletcher.
I believe Mr. Quayle is expecting me.
Oh, yes, Mrs. Fletcher.
Indeed, yes. Please follow me.
Sir?
Oh!
Welcome to Quebec, Mrs. Fletcher.
Well, I've been traveling, and I only just received
your letter yesterday, Mr. Quayle.
Oh, dear me, no. I'm not Oliver Quayle.
No, I'm merely his assistant, Barnaby Friar.
Well, not merely, exactly.
[chuckles]
Can I get you something?
Well, thank you, Mr. Friar, I'm just fine,
but you could tell me what this is all about.
The letter mentioned a trial...
The Crown versus James Harlan.
Why don't I let Mr. Quayle fill you in himself?
Oh, no trouble at all, Sir Randolph.
I won't be needing it again until next month.
You're most welcome. Don't mention it.
Have an absolutely splendid time.
Yes. Bye-bye.
I'm so sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.
Dear friend of mine wanting to borrow my jet
for a couple of weeks.
It's so kind of you to come.
Please... Please sit down.
I don't imagine we'll have to impose on your valuable time
for more than a few days.
Jim has told me wonderful things about you.
Where is Jim?
I more or less expected him to be here.
Uh, Mrs. Fletcher, I preferred to have our little chat alone.
Alone?
Oh, my tailor?
Oh, yes, I find, with a schedule as busy as mine,
I sometimes have to accomplish two things at the same time.
Yes, I would now like to hear from your own lips
your best recollection of the events
that led up to that fateful day his wife died.
You have my full attention.
Just a little more cuff showing, don't you think?
Well, it was six months ago.
Jim was about to publish his second novel,
and he had invited me up to Quebec for the weekend to, uh...
well, to have a look at the galleys.
I had shown encouragement to him on his first book,
and, uh, well, we became friends.
Well?
Jim, I think you've got a real page-turner here.
You're not just saying that?
Oh, no, no.
Your characters are richer,
you handle your narrative with more authority,
and it has a real ring of truth about it.
Oh, thank you.
Would you be willing to write the review for The Times?
I will if they ask me.
[horn honks]
-Patricia's back. -Oh.
[shears snipping]
Shopping all day.
Did you get something nice? Let me see it.
Ooh, nothing that you'd be interested in.
It's for Monica. A little going-away present.
I'm afraid I have to be getting back.
My wife's lovely ex-roommate suddenly appears out of the blue
and then steals away before I've had a chance
to pump her about old college romances.
He'd probably change the names and put 'em in his book.
Well, I'm afraid writers are accused of that, you know.
[clears throat] Yes, speaking of writers,
Jessica has pronounced my opus readable.
[chuckles] I'd tell you what I really thought,
but he'd need a larger hat size.
Ooh.
Oh, my, Patricia.
What a lovely brooch.
A present from my thoughtful husband
on our first wedding anniversary.
It's a family heirloom. It belonged to my grandmother.
Monica, I insist you stay for dinner.
Actually, I have a 7:40 flight.
I booked Maurice to do my hair at 6:00.
Jim, would you be a dear and run Monica to the airport
on your way into the city?
Well, sure, we'll stop and have a couple of drinks
and get better acquainted before you slip away.
[chuckles]
That evening, we gathered for dinner
at the Harlan Townhouse in the city at 8:30 precisely.
We sat down to eat,
even though Patricia hadn't yet returned home.
As you must know, Jim's mother, Judith, is a woman
who lets nothing disrupt her daily routine.
Jim tells me that you've been very flattering
about his book, Jessica.
I thought only mothers had that kind of blind admiration.
It wasn't flattery. And certainly not blind.
Well, I'm delighted, of course.
Not that I'm an expert, or even much of a reader.
Jim, will you please stop fiddling with that watch?
Patricia knows very well we always dine at 8:30.
Well, no doubt she's been delayed
taking that friend of hers to the airport.
Actually, we took Monica to the airport.
At least, Jim did.
That was after he dropped me off here.
Mother, what's the matter?
There's been a fire at the country house.
Jim was devastated when he learned
that Patricia had died in that fire.
A tragic accident.
If it was an accident,
why is Jim on trial for her murder?
Have no fear, dear lady.
I, Oliver Quayle, will prove
that there is not a shred of evidence against him.
Yes, but--
And you, madam, have a part to play in this drama,
small but vital,
when I call you as a witness to tell the jury
about the deep and abiding affection that existed
between James Harlan and his devoted young wife.
Yes, of course, but--
And you will testify with clarity and conviction
to the fact that he was with you and his devoted mother
at the time of the unfortunate accident.
Mr. Quayle, you keep calling it an accident,
but surely the state,
uh, the Crown, must have some evidence against him.
What an excellent witness you're going to make.
Mrs. Fletcher, national reputation,
no notoriety, Cabot Cove, Maine.
The jury is going to love that rustic...
uh, do you have a hat?
An old straw with some violets?
I've never owned a hat like that in my life.
Well, no, never mind. Barnaby will get you one.
And an umbrella, yes,
an umbrella will be a nice touch.
Mr. Quayle, I'm sorry,
but I am not going to play a countrified character
for you or for anyone else.
[knocks]
Your ex on line two, Mr. Q.
Oh, yes. Fine, fine, yes.
Dierdre.
Dierdre, my darling, how lovely to hear your voice.
Uh, where are you?
Corfu?
Oh, that sounds absolutely splendid.
Yes. How much?
Not to worry, my dear.
I'll have Barnaby wire it to you.
Love you too, darling.
Love you. Bye-bye.
Oh, alas, Mrs. Fletcher, we seem to have run out of time.
I'll rehearse your testimony later.
Barnaby will make an appointment for you.
But why were you charged with murdering Patricia?
I couldn't get anything but pompous platitudes
out of your attorney.
The authorities believe that the fire was deliberately set.
Arson? Oh, my Lord.
Jessica, my dear. How sweet of you to come.
Of course we knew we could rely on you.
Judith, I'm so terribly sorry it had to be
under these circumstances.
I would have come sooner, but I had no idea.
What a travesty of justice.
[sighs] Poor boy.
Jim, you really should get some rest.
You can't look worried when you go
in front of that jury tomorrow.
You're right.
I'm, I am feeling a bit wrung out.
If you don't mind, Jessica, I'm going to turn in.
Sure.
-Good night, mother. -Good night.
Good night, Jessica.
Thank you. Thank you.
And now, Jessica
what did you think of Oliver Quayle?
Well, one word comes to mind: overpowering.
Yes. He's the very best man in Canada.
Oh, Judith. This is such a shock.
I mean, it's hard to accept that Patricia was murdered.
We knew so little about her.
-They seemed so happy. -Oh, yes.
She completely captivated Jim.
He was such a serious, studious boy
that he really had had no experience
with that sort of person.
And after the completion of your laboratory investigations,
what did you determine was the cause of the fire?
The gas line to the hot water heater in the basement
had been disconnected, allowing gas to escape.
-Deliberately disconnected? -Yes.
And what did you determine
was the actual cause of the fire?
Gas jet had been left burning upstairs in the kitchen,
inevitably causing a gas explosion
that engulfed the whole house.
Then it would be your expert opinion
that the fire was deliberately set?
Yes.
The learned counsel for defense care
to cross-examine?
Indeed, I would.
A few simple questions
to clarify the excellent presentation
so competently elicited by Mrs. Pirage.
-Oh, or is it "miss?" -Miss.
Thank you, Miss Pirage.
I'm a man who likes to be precise about small things,
and I would hate to get off to a bad start
by giving you a husband if you don't have one.
When I decide I want one,
I'll remember your generous offer, Mr. Quayle.
[laughter]
Well, thank you, Miss Pirage.
Uh, Mr. Fouchet,
if you arrived home from the police lab one evening
and you found that a water pipe had burst
and your whole house was inundated by water,
what would you do?
Call a plumber.
And so would we all,
even queen's counsel, Miss Pirage.
[laughter]
You would not undertake the repairs yourself?
No.
Then you do not feel yourself to be a qualified plumber?
Well, no.
But you do feel qualified to testify about matters
that in the normal course of events
would be dealt with by a qualified plumber?
Well, I--
No, no, there's no need to answer that, Mr. Fouchet.
There is one other simple point that I would like to clarify.
You testified that a gas jet
had been left burning in the kitchen.
That's right.
But wasn't the central gas main turned off
by the fire brigade in the normal,
routine performance of their duties?
Yes, I suppose it was.
You suppose it was?
But you testified that a jet had been left burning.
Did you see the jet burning in the kitchen?
Well, no, of course not.
We found the valve on the range open afterwards.
So your opinion as to the actual cause of the fire
is merely conjecture, is it not?
Well, yeah, there's--
Quite right. You see?
It does pay to call in a qualified plumber.
[laughter]
You are dismissed.
If the Crown would care to call her next witness.
The Crown calls Clay McLeod.
Now, Mr. McLeod,
let me direct your attention
to the weekend of May 7th of last year.
That was the weekend before the death of Patricia Harlan.
In the course of your duties, did you observe any, uh,
exchange between the defendant and his wife?
Yeah. I heard 'em fighting.
Fighting? Could you be more specific?
Yeah.
I mean, they were yelling at each other.
I see.
And what was the nature of their dispute?
She wanted a divorce.
And what was the defendant's response?
Oh, he got real hot...
You know, uh, mad.
Can you recall his specific words?
Oh, yeah. I remember 'em real clear.
He said,
"before I give you a divorce, I'll see you dead."
[crowd murmuring]
Is it not true, Mr. McLeod,
that among your many occupations
you are also employed as an auto mechanic?
Yeah. I guess.
Oh, come now, Mr. McLeod. Don't be so modest.
Did you not receive a certificate of completion
for a course in auto mechanics
from the Commonwealth Penitentiary in Calgary?
-Objection. -Sustained.
Please, Mr. Quayle. You know better than that.
My apologies, your Lordship. An inadvertent slip.
The jury will disregard any reference
to the commonwealth penitentiary.
Would you say, Mr. McLeod,
that someone trained in auto mechanics
would know how to disconnect the gas line
to a hot water heater?
Anybody could do that with a pair of pliers.
And is it not true that the day after Mrs. Harlan's
unfortunate death, you were discharged?
Yeah, there wasn't a lot left for me to look after, was there?
What was the reason given for your dismissal?
They said that, uh, some stuff was missing.
-It wasn't. -You were discharged for theft?
That's a lie!
They were just trying to make trouble for me.
I... I was about to ask
if you had any feelings of bitterness or hostility
toward the Harlan family,
but it would appear that you have
told us about that already.
Uh, no further questions.
The almost total destruction of the cadaver by fire
made the postmortem very difficult.
In fact, there wasn't enough left of the body
to fill a large plastic bag.
Uh, as you know, identification was only made
by the jewelry recovered.
Yes, Dr. Cornwall,
the engraved wedding band and the engagement ring
have already been introduced into evidence.
But to return to the postmortem.
Were you able to determine cause of death?
Clinically, there was very little
left to go on, other than--
But wasn't there something unusual
about the victim's skull?
Yes. Quite right.
The skull, or what remained of it,
Showed a massive fracture of the frontal lobe.
Consistent with a blow from a heavy instrument?
Yes.
Is it your opinion that such a blow would be fatal?
Yes. Quite fatal.
Then what is your expert opinion?
Did the victim die from the fire...
or from the blow to the head?
No question about it.
She died from a blow to the head.
[crowd murmuring]
-Barnaby! -Yes, Sir?
Get me that list of doctors!
Who was that fellow we used in the rucklehouse murder?
Dr. Ashcroft.
But he's testifying in Vancouver.
What about Snidden?
His medical license was revoked last month.
Well, don't just stand there.
Bring me the list!
Excuse me.
I do realize that
you probably have a great deal on your mind, Mr. Quayle,
but it does seem to me
that Patricia was dead before the fire started.
Do you have some medical qualifications
of which we are not aware, Mrs. Fletcher?
Oh, no, no, it's just a matter of common sense.
I mean, it must have taken quite some time
for the escaping gas from the basement
to have reached the open flame in the kitchen.
If Patricia were alive or conscious,
she would have smelled the gas, don't you think?
The Crown must prove that she didn't die in that fire.
It's not a matter of proof. It's a matter of logic.
Madam, there are many ways to defend a murder charge.
I happen to have chosen the one
that I deem most likely to succeed.
Your ex on line one, Mr. Quayle.
Oh, Dierdre.
Ruth! Ruth, my dear.
Yes, how lovely to hear your voice.
Where are you? Maui?
Quayle's pretty sharp, isn't he?
Oh, he is clever,
but I am not at all sure that he is on the right track.
I mean, if Patricia did die before the fire started...
well, you may need to establish your whereabouts
between the time that you dropped me
and the time that you returned for dinner.
Well, you remember, Jessica. I took Monica to the airport.
Exactly.
Monica Blane may be able to help establish
where you were before...
well, before the fire started.
Yes, but Monica seems to have disappeared.
Nobody has been able to make contact with her
since I left her at the airport.
Mr. Quayle, the last thing in the world
that I would want to do is to run your defense,
but have you made any attempt to contact Monica Blane?
I shall not require your assistance, madam.
In fact, I have decided
that your testimony will not be needed.
Barnaby here will reimburse you for any expenses incurred.
Have a pleasant journey back to Maine, Mrs. Fletcher.
Jessica, I have no idea why he changed his mind.
Well, I'm very confused myself.
I mean, I was hustled up here to appear on your behalf
and then summarily given my walking papers.
I don't know.
Mother says that Quayle knows what he's doing.
Well, I hope so. For your sake.
But he seems to be hanging his entire defense
on the theory that Patricia's death was accidental.
Don't you think that the jury will buy that?
But the jury heard what I heard
the testimony of the gardener.
She had been going through a lot of money.
Mother tried to warn me about it, of course.
Not that I really cared about the money,
but Patricia refused to account for it.
We both said some things that we didn't mean.
I didn't threaten her.
I would never have hurt her. I loved her.
Well, in that case, the gardener is lying.
The question is, why?
Thank you.
[in a singsong voice] Hello, Mr. McLeod?
Hello there.
My name is Jessica Fletcher, and I'm from Cabot Cove.
That's in Maine.
Oh, yeah. I remember you.
You were staying at the Harlans' place
a couple months back.
You're some sort of writer or something?
Oh, well, nothing important, really.
I mean, mostly things that I type up at the kitchen table.
But the editor of The Cabot Cove Gazette
has promised to print something of mine
if it is interesting.
Uh-huh.
You mean, sort of like a reporter.
Well, not official, really.
I mean, I do know the family... casually, of course.
Um, reporters call that "background."
But I thought I could start off by taking a few notes.
You know, about the accident.
[chuckles]
Only a fool would think that was an accident.
Oh? But the family says--
Yeah, well...
Look, I need a beer. You want to come inside?
[sighs]
You want a beer?
Oh, thank you very much, but I don't think I'd better.
I went out to the house.
I think it's so important when you're writing
to establish the feel of a place...
Colors, textures, you know, set the scene.
There was nothing much left but ashes.
Lady, I'm sorry. There's nothing I can tell you.
You know, I thought your testimony
was so interesting.
I got the impression that more was going on
than what the family had told me.
[chuckles]
I mean, Jim Harlan is such a refined young man.
But you know what they say about still waters running deep.
He's one of those rich wimps.
Wimps?
Yeah, his wife was more woman than he could handle.
Oh, well, I don't suppose
The Cabot Cove Gazette would want to print that.
Do you think that he actually murdered her
and then set the fire to cover it up?
All I know is,
she was dead before the fire started.
Oh, but how do you know that?
Unless you actually saw him murder her.
I didn't see him do it, but I'll tell you something.
I went back there to get some wages that they owed me.
I looked in the window,
and I saw her laying on the floor.
Oh, my goodness.
You mean, you saw her dead on the floor?
Oh, I think I would have fainted.
But didn't you call the police?
Lady, I stay pretty clear of the police.
Matter of fact, if anybody asked me,
I'd deny what I just told you.
Oh, the girls in Cabot Cove are never gonna believe
that I actually talked to the man
who actually saw a dead body.
Yes, doctor, I believe you testified
there is no clinical evidence to determine the time of death.
Is that right?
Well, the fire had almost totally consumed the remains--
Yes, so you said.
You also testified that her skull was damaged.
That's correct.
Isn't it possible
that the skull could have been crushed
by a falling beam during the fire?
Oh, come now, doctor.
Isn't it most likely that the skull was crushed
by the heavy beams in the roof when they collapsed
during the conflagration?
Yes, I suppose it's possible.
Thank you, Dr. Cornwall. You are excused.
The Crown calls Nathan Klebber.
Now, Mr. Klebber, you are the owner and operator
of the Blue Sky Motel
on Aviation Boulevard, near the airport?
I am.
On May 14 of last year, did you rent a room
to an attractive blonde woman in her early 30s?
I did.
I punched the card at 6:53 p.m.
with everybody traveling, sometimes we, uh,
rent by the hour.
Mm-hmm. Yes.
And what name did she give on the registration card?
Monica Blane from Phoenix, Arizona.
At least, that's the name she put down.
Was she alone?
She came into the office alone,
but there was a man with her.
I seen him.
And how long did Monica Blane and her companion stay?
Don't rightly know.
She paid in advance. Cash.
This, uh, gentleman companion of Monica Blane's...
did you get a good look at him?
Sure did.
Do you see him anywhere here in the courtroom?
That's him sitting right there.
[crowd murmuring]
Let the record show the witness identified
the defendant, James Harlan.
Cross-examine, Mr. Quayle?
If your Lordship would permit me
to cross-examine at a later time.
I see no problem with that, Mr. Quayle.
Does the Crown wish to call any further witnesses?
The Crown calls Jessica Fletcher.
Mrs. Fletcher, at what time did you,
the defendant, and Monica Blane leave the country house?
It was just before 6:00 in the evening.
And the decedent, Patricia Harlan,
remained at the country house when you left?
-She had a hair appointment. -I see.
So you, the defendant, and Monica Blane
left her there and proceeded by car
to the Harlan Townhouse?
Yes, they dropped me there.
We were all having dinner together later.
Not Miss Blane, but Patricia was planning to join us
after her hair appointment.
I see.
And what time did they drop you off?
Just after 6:30.
And the defendant and Monica Blane proceeded on?
Yes, Jim took her to the airport.
So there was a period of approximately two hours,
between 6:30 and 8:30,
when you have no knowledge of James Harlan's movements?
Well, yes. Yes, that is true.
Two hours.
Plenty of time for the defendant to return to the country house,
murder his wife, and get back to the city for dinner.
Objection!
The question calls for a conclusion
and supposes facts that are not in evidence.
Sustained.
No further questions.
Mrs. Fletcher,
have you ever used the alias "J.B. Fletcher?"
Yes, on my books. They're my initials.
So you admit that you are a writer?
Well, I've never felt any need to deny it,
at least, uh, not so far.
And it was in the guise of a writer
that you wheedled your way
into the confidence of the Harlan family?
Wheedled?
Do you deny that the plot for your next book was stolen
from an unpublished manuscript by James Harlan?
I certainly do.
That is a matter we will leave for the civil courts to decide.
Mrs. J.B. Fletcher,
have you any recollection of being committed
to the State of Maine Institute for the Criminally Insane
between the months of May and July in the year 1985?
-Objection! -Sustained.
I was never committed anywhere.
I entered the institution voluntarily.
Under the care of Dr. Sidney Bachmann,
who is a specialist in the field of Criminal Psychosis?
Yes. I was researching a book.
Indeed? What a perfect subterfuge.
The book was called Sanitarium of Death.
It was dedicated to Dr. Bachmann.
Out of gratitude, no doubt,
for the excellent care you received.
Your Lordship, I must protest.
Mr. Quayle is attempting to smear with innuendo
a woman of impeccable reputation and character
who comes from a respected family in New England.
Mr. Quayle, I must admonish you
to refrain from vague suggestions and innuendo.
My apologies, your Lordship,
if my line of questioning was not quite clear.
I will now concentrate on the facts.
Is it not a fact, Mrs. Fletcher,
that a niece of yours, Victoria Griffin,
was arrested for murder last year?
Yes, but--
Is it not a fact that another niece,
Tracy McGill, was also arrested for murder?
Yes, but I can explain.
And that your nephew, Grady Fletcher,
was arrested not once but twice.
Yes, I know how that must seem--
Also on a charge of homicide? "Seems?"
Madam, it seems
that one of New England's most respected families
is a breeding ground for homicidal maniacs!
The charges were dropped
in every single one of those cases.
"Dropped?"
Oh, yes, then indeed, you must also be
one of the most powerful families in your country.
I have no further questions.
They were innocent.
Oh, I'm quite sure they were. You are dismissed, madam.
Your Lordship--
You may step down, Mrs. Fletcher.
Judge Valentine, please come to your chambers.
[speaking French]
Miss Doris Perry, please report
to the superior court number two.
[french]
Whew.
[chuckles]
I know.
It's like being mugged.
Is that kind of character assassination legal?
Not very, but it's what Oliver Quayle does best.
I'm no expert, but I thought I noticed you landing
one or two low blows yourself.
When a girl steps into the alley to Duke it out
with the great Oliver Quayle,
she better have a set of brass knuckles in her glove.
Miss Pirage, maybe I shouldn't even ask you this,
but do you really believe that Jim Harlan murdered his wife?
I'll tell you what I intend to prove
that James Harlan conspired with Monica Blane
to murder Patricia Harlan.
Then you think that Jim went back, killed Patricia,
and Monica Blane set the fire later
so that he'd have an alibi?
[chuckles]
You'd make a good lawyer.
Well, out of curiosity, where is Monica Blane?
Good question.
We've been trying to find her for months.
Jim, you asked for my help.
I want to help, but at every turn
something pops up that you haven't told me.
What would you like to know?
The truth about you and Patricia.
All right.
We tried to keep up appearances,
but our marriage was sinking fast.
She went through money like you wouldn't believe.
Even on the day she died, she took out 20,000 cash.
Cash? Was it ever found?
No.
It must have gone up in smoke in the fire.
Tell me about this business
with you and Monica Blane at the motel.
Is that true?
It's not something that I'm very proud of,
but yes, it happened, okay?
And what time did you leave the motel?
8:00, just in time to get back to the house for dinner.
Monica took a taxi to catch her flight.
I guess it's not a very pretty picture.
You can see why I didn't want to tell anyone about it.
I agree.
It certainly won't endear you to the jury,
but at least Monica Blane can give you an alibi.
If anybody can find her.
[knocking at door]
Judith.
Please forgive this late hour,
but I wonder if I could speak to you for a few minutes.
-Yes, of course. Come on in. -Thank you.
I always felt the mark of good breeding
was good manners, so I simply must apologize
for the vicious way that Jim's attorney attacked you.
I mean, it was unconscionable.
[chuckles] Well, I suppose that's what he's paid to do,
and very handsomely, from what I can see.
I wouldn't want you to leave Quebec
harboring any ill feelings.
Well, I hadn't planned to leave.
I think it would be best for Jim if you did--
Immediately.
Jim told you about our conversation today,
didn't he?
Of course he did, otherwise you wouldn't be here.
I wonder why I get the feeling, Judith, that...
That you're Pulling the strings.
Jim is... is all I have left, Jessica.
I would do anything to protect him.
This whole trial must be an agony for you.
I admit I was very upset when Jim and Patricia eloped.
After all, he'd only known her a few weeks.
Perhaps it was mothers' instinct or whatever,
but I hired a private investigator.
I got my money's worth.
He found out that Patricia had spent a year in jail in Arizona
for embezzling funds from the bank where she worked.
I also learned that she was nothing more
than a common Las Vegas showgirl when he met her.
And her friend, Monica Blane?
I can guess. They weren't schoolmates.
They were in jail together, right?
I see you have good instincts too.
So that's where all the money went.
-Monica was blackmailing her. -Evidently.
At any rate, after all this happened,
I paid Monica a great deal of money to disappear.
I didn't want any of this sordid business to come out.
And you gave her the money yourself
after Patricia died?
No, no, it was through an intermediary,
the private investigator.
Judith,
has Jim ever admitted to you that he murdered Patricia?
No. No, he denies it.
I am his mother,
and as long as he continues to deny it,
I'll continue to believe him.
Good morning, Barnaby. I'd like to see Mr. Quayle.
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, my goodness.
We all thought you'd gone back to Maine.
Well, there's a little matter
I'd like to discuss with the great man first.
I do hope you realize there was nothing personal
in Mr. Quayle's cross-examination.
On the contrary, I thought it was all very personal.
Is he in there?
Uh, no, no. I'm afraid he's not here.
Really, Mrs. Fletcher, you must understand
it's all tactics.
Is there something I could do?
No, no, I don't think so.
I mean, I don't suppose that you would have the authority
to show me the, uh, police report.
I have more authority than most people suppose.
I am, after all, his assistant.
What were you curious about?
Well, I'm not exactly sure.
I guess that I'm not quite clear
as to how you identified the body.
I mean, uh, I wonder if you checked that closely.
Let me assure you,
nothing escapes Mr. Quayle's attention,
or mine.
Her initials, and Mr. Harlan's,
were engraved on the inside of the wedding ring
and the engagement ring.
Five karats.
That's funny.
Where's the diamond brooch that she was wearing?
No mention of any brooch in the police file.
Barnaby?
There's a man here to see Mr. Q.
Name's Rudy Plansky.
A private investigator. Says it's very important.
I'm afraid he's not here at the moment.
Could I possibly help?
Yeah, tell him I'm waitin' for him
down the street at Marcel's.
May I tell him what it's about, Mr. Plansky?
[snickers] Yeah, just mention the name Monica Blane.
And tell him to bring along five large.
Five large what?
Uh, maybe Mr. Quayle will know.
Well, here I am going on and on,
and interfering with your valuable time.
I must get to the post office.
I wonder, could you lend me an envelope?
Oh, certainly.
Thank you.
[background chatter]
Don't you think it was a little careless,
walking into the office like that?
Where's Quayle?
Tied up. I came instead.
Oh, yeah? Who, exactly, are you?
The name I use in Quebec is Fletcher.
We want to be sure that the information you're selling
is worth five large.
Well, I seen you up in his office,
but how do I know you're working with him?
Does the name Judith Harlan ring a bell with you?
Quayle knows about that?
You think Mr. Quayle is stupid?
You think he'd take this case if he didn't know all the facts?
And what, may I ask, are you doing here, Mrs. Fletcher?
I thought I had made it clear, Mrs. Fletcher,
that your interference will no longer be tolerated.
Mr. Plansky has information about Monica Blane.
I know where she is, Quayle,
and it's gonna cost you five grand.
And why would Miss Blane's whereabouts
be worth $5,000 to me?
Because Jim was with her
at the motel when Patricia was murdered.
If we can find Monica Blane, and she'll testify,
Jim will have an alibi.
From a convicted felon?
That is not the thrust of my defense, madam.
Well, maybe it should be.
She's staying at that address. New York City.
Well, I must be running along.
Uh, just a minute. What's this?
-Oh, uh, that's mine. -From my office?
Uh, it's just some recipes
I was clipping out of the local paper,
and Barnaby gave me one of your envelopes.
These, I'm afraid, would give me indigestion.
I'm sure you're well intentioned, Mrs. Fletcher,
but you're also a meddlesome busybody,
and you're sorely trying my patience.
And you, Mr. Quayle, are trying mine
by mangling Jim Harlan's defense
by not conceding that his wife was murdered.
If we concede murder, then we concede the case.
My client had both motive and opportunity.
And by ignoring the fact that Patricia Harlan
withdrew $20,000 cash the day that she was murdered.
Now, Monica Blane may have been blackmailing her.
Blackmail?
And that Judith Harlan paid Monica Blane to disappear.
And if I'm not mistaken,
that little man to whom you just gave $5,000
delivered the payment.
Mrs. Fletcher!
We've had an enormous break in the case.
That's wonderful news, Barnaby.
Mr. Quayle got a tip,
and I flew to New York last night
and located Monica Blane.
She's here? And willing to testify?
I think you'll find that our client
has a very solid alibi, counselor.
Is the defense prepared to proceed, Mr. Quayle?
We are, your Lordship.
If it pleases the court,
the Crown has one further witness to call.
Well, I was under the impression
that the prosecution had rested its case,
but very well.
The Crown calls Monica Blane.
No. I told you.
I never saw Jim Harlan in my life before that weekend.
But you did go to the motel with him, didn't you?
What's the big deal? We're both over 21.
At what time did you
and the defendant leave the motel?
I took a taxi.
I had a 7:40 flight.
So the defendant didn't drive you to the airport?
No. He didn't have time.
He said he had to go back to the country house
and, uh, straighten something out with his wife.
No! That's not true.
-She's lying. -Sit down, Mr. Harlan.
It's a lie.
Why would Monica say such a thing?
Well, if she was blackmailing Patricia,
maybe she was trying to cover her own tracks
by incriminating you.
Maybe she never took that flight.
Maybe she went back to the country house.
Mrs. Fletcher.
It is you, Mrs. Fletcher,
who are responsible for this fiasco.
I will brook no further interference from you, madam!
Mrs. Harlan, James, in here.
Jim.
Sometimes, when things aren't going well,
he forgets his manners.
Well, when the jury brings in a verdict,
you'd better have a muzzle handy.
There's a call from his ex-wife on line two.
You think I should interrupt?
Uh, maybe I'd better talk to her.
Hello. Wilhelmina.
No, he's not in. Can I help?
-Wilhelmina? -His second wife.
How many ex-wives does Mr. Quayle have?
Three.
All originally his secretaries.
Yes, Wilhelmina, I can see the problem.
How much do you think you'll need?
-Did you lose something? -An earring.
Yes, I'll take care of that myself.
Oh, gee, thanks.
Well, I mean, it's not really worth very much,
but for me it has a lot of sentimental value.
Yes, Wilhelmina. I'll give him your love.
Bye.
Barnaby!
The diamond brooch.
What brooch?
The Diamond brooch that I told you
that Patricia was wearing.
It must have been very valuable,
and it was missing after the fire.
And you think the killer stole it?
That's very astute of you, Barnaby.
Sometimes I think that you ought to be running the defense.
Actually, I make a bigger contribution around here
than most people realize.
But I don't quite follow.
You know, Barnaby, I have an idea,
but if I try to explain it to Mr. Quayle,
I don't think he's gonna listen to me.
Suppose you bounce it off me.
Then, if it has merit...
Well, the handyman, Clay McLeod.
He more or less intimated to me
that he had gone back to the house
long after we had all left.
And if he went back,
he may have killed Patricia and taken the brooch.
What are you talking about, Barnaby?
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher told me that Patricia
had been wearing a distinctive antique brooch.
That's right. The one I gave to her.
I checked the police file.
It was never recovered after the fire.
We may be onto something here.
Patricia and the gardener?
Infidelity, theft, and murder.
McLeod will deny it, of course.
It would be stupid to sell or pawn something like that,
at least for a while.
McLeod may be vicious, but he's not stupid.
He probably still has the brooch hidden somewhere.
Barnaby, find Judge Mansard. Get a search warrant.
Mr. McLeod?
I would imagine that Mr. Quayle
is busily arranging for a search warrant?
Yes, that's the brooch that Patricia was wearing.
How did you know?
When I admired it, Jim told me that it was an heirloom,
that it had belonged to his grandmother.
My mother was very fond of it.
A present from my father.
I had to ask myself,
"who would take an antique brooch
and leave a five-karat diamond?"
Patricia's appointment was not with her hairdresser.
It was with me.
I went out there to confront her privately
with what my investigator had turned up.
I offered her a handsome settlement
to divorce Jim quietly, without scandal.
But Patricia was not only greedy,
she was arrogant, and she became very abusive.
She... she had the audacity to...
to hit me.
I grasped for whatever was near me,
and it was the poker in the fireplace.
And I,
I struck her down.
So you were the one who disconnected the gas line
in the basement?
It wasn't difficult.
I calculated I had enough time to get back to the city
before the fire consumed her.
And you couldn't bear to see your mother's brooch destroyed,
so you removed it from the body.
I hope you realize
that I never would have let Jim be convicted
for something I had done.
Yes, Jessica, our little ploy worked brilliantly.
A clever piece of work, if I say so myself.
Well, I do hope that Mr. Quayle appreciates
what you did for him.
As of today, I have a new title.
"First assistant."
Oh, that has a good, solid sound.
That's very impressive.
Barnaby!
What did you put in the coffee this morning?
It tastes like-- Mrs. Fletcher!
Oh, why didn't somebody tell me you were here?
Well, I just popped in to say good-bye.
Oh, not good-bye, dear lady.
Au revoir?
Well, perhaps sometime.
Oh, you'll be back here in a few months for the trial.
The trial?
Oh, yes. Didn't Barnaby tell you?
I'm defending Judith Harlan.
Even the guilty are entitled to their day in court.
And what a glorious day it's going to be.
I'll get her off, you know. I always get them off.
Well, if you don't mind,
this is one trial I would just as soon skip.
Skip? Oh, no. No, no. You must appear.
I'm going to call you as a witness.
[cheerful orchestral music]