All right, partner, drop it. Raise them high.
[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Aha!
He’s a nut, but he’s a certified genius.
Why don’t you offer her a job, get her on your team?
Cut the baloney, Steloff.
Everybody knows you’ve taken the contest into the bedroom.
Did you kill your wife?
If JB Fletcher has to ask that,
I better get myself a good lawyer.
Nobody’s above suspicion
in the game of Murder Will Out.
What kind of a toy would someone kill for?
[cheerful orchestral music]
[woman] This week marks our 25th year, Liz.
So your Wall Street angle should be about
Marathon’s expanding industry share over that period.
Miss Delaney, there’s talk you’ve thrown
your ad agency situation into review.
Right, Annie. The end of the month,
the Marathon account will be repped
either by Steloff Associates or Peyton and Company.
And I have broken precedent by asking the top execs
of these two competing firms to be with us this morning.
Boris Steloff, responsible
for the Springfield Athletics campaign last year
and Miles Packard to his right, of Peyton Company
with his two creative directors
Brian Singer and Amanda North.
They developed the Nuit d’Amour perfume ad
that hit so big during the Olympics this year.
There’s word around that you people
have a breakthrough line.
You know better than to ask me
about our development plans, Stromberg.
This was over drinks with your CEO, Edgar Greenstreet.
The old man talked about a Project 2100.
Oh, please, don’t hold me
to Mr. Greenstreet’s after-hours comments.
Now I think that about covers everything.
[overlapping questions]
Except to say that we are in negotiations
with a top mystery novelist
for a new board game
which will be entitled appropriately enough,
Murder Will Out.
And that’s all. Thank you very much, everybody.
[indistinct]
Mrs. Fletcher, Jessica Fletcher,
I should have known, I should have known
it would have been you with that board game.
Good heavens, Brian.
Allow me to introduce you to my boss, Miles Packard.
-How do you do? -Hello.
I broke into the business as a media coordinator
on one of Mrs. Fletcher’s books.
Miles,
would this be an apt time to wish each other luck?
Cut the baloney, Steloff.
Everybody knows you’ve taken the contest into the bedroom,
not that it’ll get you anywhere, so forget it.
Mrs. Fletcher.
Look, I’ve got a table booked at Carter’s at 12:30.
We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.
Mrs. Fletcher, boss lady called.
If that’s an invitation to lunch, you’re on.
Mrs. Fletcher, it’s good to see you again.
Thank you.
I’m Meredith Delaney. This is my husband.
Otherwise known as Mr. Meredith Delaney.
How are you? Oh, just fine. Thank you, Devery.
My husband will be your project supervisor.
[phone buzzing]
Excuse me, just a moment.
Officer Joseph.
Correct me if I’m wrong, but do I not have that
mealy-mouthed little bastard from the Register, Stromberg,
on the list of people
who are not allowed in this building,
let alone my office?
I have to tell you, I think your basics are sensational,
I’ve got the art department doing sketches.
-So soon. That’s wonderful. -[Devery] Mr. Greenstreet’s taken...
...a special interest in this project.
He suggested character figures for the playing pieces.
Really, Devery, you’re like a runaway horse.
Oh, that’s quite all right, Miss Delaney.
I mean, after all if that is what Mr. Greenstreet wants.
I mean, my gosh, he’s a legend.
Every kid in America knows
Billy Bonkers and Bonkers Skeleton.
And few people are aware
that the anatomically correct skeleton play kit
was my idea,
along with many things at Marathon.
Mrs. Fletcher, to be perfectly frank,
Mr. Greenstreet is an eccentric
and I really run the company for him.
[Jessica] I mean, I have heard advertising described
as a bare-knuckle business
but after what I saw this morning, I’m a believer.
Here’s our dessert tray. I’ll be right back.
The Marathon account will bill 40 million next year.
As far as our competition goes,
it’s not exactly a level playing field,
but Amanda and I have a proposal
which stresses better creative and media coordination.
It’s really been tough, trying to create a proposal
for a line of toys we’ve never seen.
Oh, yes, rather like trying to paint
a landscape, blindfolded.
It’s Edgar Greenstreet.
He ratchets up our creative juices that way.
And next month he decides who gets the account.
Well, now I’m confused.
I mean, this morning Meredith Delaney told me
that Mr. Greenstreet wasn’t running the business anymore.
Don’t believe everything the iron butterfly tells you.
Old man Greenstreet is the toy maker.
He’s a nut but he’s a certified genius.
Small change of subject.
Brian, what did the client say about our Urge storyboards?
Oh, Urge is a line of cosmetics
we’re doing some TV spots for.
Brian?
[Brian] I didn’t give him your copy, hon.
I’m afraid you missed the boat.
What do you mean missed the boat?
Well, who cares if a spritzer fits into the handbag
or if the blush comes in a dozen shades?
That’s not the selling point, honey.
Now the blueberry cheesecake here is fantastic.
Oh, no, thank you.
But I wonder if either one of you know
if there’s a room B-100 in the Marathon building.
Oh, sure.
Yeah, I’ve never seen it
but everybody’s heard about it.
It’s a high security section on the basement floor.
Please excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher.
I just remembered I have an appointment.
Amanda.
I’ll be right back, Mrs. Fletcher.
Amanda, what’s the matter?
-Incredibly enough you have no idea. -No, I don’t.
Whatever the project is, even if it’s women’s cosmetics
for crying out loud, your opinion always prevails.
I figured out why.
It’s because you’re so pigheaded.
You want me take a backseat?
I want equality in the relationship.
And for starters, you can stop calling me honey.
All right, partner, drop it.
Come on, get them up!
Raise them high. [gunshots]
[locomotive whistle blows]
Do you want to play?
Come along, follow me if you dare.
Okay, someone wants to play.
Aha!
Got you, Mrs. Fletcher.
Edgar Greenstreet.
I couldn’t resist having some fun with you.
You really had me going.
Check the eyeball.
Is the green scarier?
Oh, no the red, definitely the red.
An eyeball, our first serious collaboration.
Here, here let me get you a chair.
Thank you.
There.
Oh, great.
Tell me,
do you believe that toys and games like yours,
Mrs. Fletcher, are the sublimation of all the evil in us?
I’m not certain I know what you mean.
Well, with toys you can bomb and strafe,
win World War III and IV.
You can even commit murder
and go to bed with an easy conscience,
which brings us to your game.
I’ve read your notes, and...
I think you’ll want six players, not five.
I had in mind a grumpy neighbor.
Call him, Snipes.
He snoops a lot, you know, looks in windows,
picks up clues--
Snipe’s a snoop.
We’ll make them out of plastic.
People can feel them, touch them,
have their favorite colors.
And they would move with the roll of the dice.
Draw to see who the murderer is.
And the squares on the board
will give the players an opportunity
to pick up a motive card
like a scene of the crime card or a clue card.
Which may or may not be genuine.
Oh, you mean, a false clue,
like a wild card in poker.
This is just wonderful, it really is.
But, you know,
your Executive Vice President, Miss Delaney, has some concerns.
I already know what that female Caligula said.
Ignore her.
She’s on a power trip.
And like in your books,
things are never quite what they seem to be, are they?
Don’t tell anyone you have access to B-100.
That’s our little secret.
Oh, yes, yes, of course, of course. But--
Over here, Mrs. Fletcher, on the double.
I want to be in the game.
I want to be one of your characters.
All right, partner, drop it.
Come on, get them up. [gunshots]
Raise them high.
[Edgar] Talk to your friend Brian Singer.
He did a campaign for a board game called Waffles.
Not half as clever as yours but maybe he can help.
[Steloff] It’s not gonna work.
Why do you say that?
Well, face it, darling,
the old man still has the key decision,
the choice of agency.
Without Marathon’s business,
this agency is through and I’m through.
But you’re not gonna let that happen.
Greenstreet has a very special feeling
for Packard’s brain trust,
Brian Singer and that girl, what’s her name?
Amanda North.
I understand the relationship is very vulnerable.
Why don’t you offer her a job, get her on your team?
I can do that.
I’ll do it.
But if you make a play for her, it’s all over.
[knocking sound]
Hello.
Taxi, taxi!
[car honking]
Amanda, it’s Boris Steloff.
Can I give you a lift?
Sure.
It’s quite serendipitous bumping into each other.
I was going to call.
I thought you and Miles were at each other’s throats
until the Marathon account settled.
True.
I--I just thought you and I should have a chat.
So we didn’t just bump into each other, did we?
What’s this about?
Well, you have incredible talent.
You need to spread your wings.
And Miles is giving me every break.
Miles...
I’m not talking about Miles.
You mean Brian?
Mmm.
Thanks.
You could do a whole lot better with me, Amanda.
I’m talking substantially better.
Amanda, my office, tomorrow night?
You’ve nothing to lose.
[Meredith] In as few words as possible,
could I ask you to describe
what this monstrosity represents?
Well, it’s a dump truck, like sales ordered,
only it’s designed like the real thing.
An apt description
because that’s where it belongs, in the dump.
For cost purposes
I asked you to make it four wheels.
No, dump trucks can’t operate on four wheels.
[Meredith] And you have six.
At our last meeting, we discussed color
and agreed upon number three green
of which we have an ample supply and yet--
No, no, no, now hold on a minute, Miss Delaney.
Now I was making the changes you requested
when Mr. Greenstreet happened to stop by my bench.
Now you know what a bug he is on authenticity.
Thank you, Frank. That will be all.
It’s no big deal--
Right,
whatever you say.
You’re JB Fletcher.
That’s right.
I’m Frank Christy, one of Marathon’s designers.
Oh, how do you do?
Well, I’ve read all your books and I heard about your game.
-All the best with it. -Well, that’s very kind.
If I’m not mistaken that’s a very handsome
dump truck you’ve got there.
I wish you luck with it.
Thanks, Mrs. Fletcher.
Have accounting cut his last check,
severance, whatever, I want him out of here today.
Mrs. Fletcher, I am truly, truly sorry for bringing you
in on such short notice but I have upsetting news.
Oh, I’m sorry.
You’ve been spending time
with Mr. Greenstreet on this game of yours.
Oh, yes, that’s true but--
Well, Mrs. Fletcher, I don’t know
how to make this any clearer,
but the man is just not with it.
With it or without it,
Mr. Greenstreet may be an eccentric,
Miss Delaney, but in the impromptu meeting
that I’ve had with him, he gave me major help.
I think you understand what I’m telling you, Mrs. Fletcher.
I certainly do. You’re telling me not to talk to Mr. Greenstreet.
And I have to tell you that I find that a very difficult adjustment.
Mrs. Fletcher.
Try to understand.
Boss lady has such heavy responsibilities,
and no one to share them with.
But she’ll always have you, won’t she, Moffett?
Would it change your mind to know that
Frank Christy has worked for this company for 15 years?
Then he should have been fired years ago.
We have too many Neanderthals as it is.
Canning Frank Christy is a snap.
Firing your husband’s not so easy, is it?
What are you getting at?
Don’t you think the whole town knows
about you and Boris Steloff?
When and where am I going to be served papers, Meredith?
On the job?
In the bedroom?
So it was you who was spying on us.
Someone’s been spying on you and Steloff?
God, what a bore that must be.
I want you out of here
by the end of your contract term.
You haven’t forgotten our pre-nuptial agreement, have you?
How could I? It’s been a lot on my mind lately.
Now take your pick of the cosmetic lines,
plus, you’ll have sole creative
and media responsibility for the Marathon account.
What makes you so sure you’ll get Marathon?
Well, let’s say I hold some aces.
Look, Amanda, I’m offering you twice
what you’re getting at Peyton, three years firm--
And a vice presidency.
Yes, with the likelihood of a full partnership
this time next year.
You’re a hard man to refuse.
I hope you’re not planning on building that into the deal.
No.
I couldn’t resist.
It won’t happen again, I promise.
Give me several days, Boris.
There are some people that I have to tell first.
Of course, I understand.
[Brian] Sorry I’m late, Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, Brian, thank you for your time.
Listen, someone mentioned to me
that you did a very successful ad campaign
for a game called Waffles.
You mean Pancake Man.
Oh, right, yes, the Pancake Man.
Anyway, they told me
that you came in early at the concept stage
and I was wondering if you might like
to take a look at my...
Brian?
I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
I should have called this off.
My head isn’t anywhere today.
Oh, is something wrong?
Amanda called.
She is leaving the agency
and she’s going with Boris Steloff.
Oh, dear.
You know what that means?
That means she’ll take all the ideas
she and I developed for the Marathon project
and give them to Steloff.
The deal is made, lover.
Amanda North signs with me tomorrow.
You never cared for me or us, just the Marathon account.
It was a harmless moment, for God’s sake.
You did the one thing
for which I will never forgive anyone.
You could’ve been the biggest man in town.
Now your name is gonna be dirt.
Count on it.
[man] Ladies and gentlemen,
welcome to Marathon’s silver jubilee.
At this time it’s my great pleasure
to present five real special Marathoners,
the very first members of the 20-year club.
And as a token of those 20 years,
for the two ladies we have earrings,
cufflinks for the three gentlemen.
Leading off, let’s hear it
for our Executive Vice President, Meredith Delaney.
Fred Stinson, Shipping.
Paul Bogdanovich, Personnel.
Everett Davenport, Design,
and Sylvia Moffett, Secretarial.
Let’s hear it for these outstanding Marathoners.
Poor Moffett.
Hello, Devery, why poor Moffett?
Working for boss lady all that time,
my term was only two years.
Mr. McFarlane has joined the elite group.
What makes you so happy, Frank?
Ah, hell,
there are worse things than being fired.
I guess Mrs. Fletcher would agree with that.
I’m only sorry you won’t be working on my project.
Watch out for the end of next month.
I’m not sure even Edgar Greenstreet
can save this company from madam’s claws.
Do you feel like dancing, Mrs. Fletcher?
Of course, she does.
Excuse us, young man.
Hi.
Amanda, I’ve been thinking about us
and how I behaved and...
there’s still time for us to start again.
I mean, for me.
You’ve been right about a lot of things, damn it,
and more--more than that, I love you
and nothing’s important to me anymore except you.
Boris, I’ve been calling all day.
I went over the materials you sent yesterday--
Uh, we have a problem.
I hope you haven’t burned any bridges.
Uh-oh, trouble in River City.
He’s telling that poor girl
he doesn’t have a lock on Marathon anymore.
You are a role player.
You know a lot more about
what’s going on here than certain people realize.
Well, maybe that’s my defense against certain people.
Then let’s talk some more about the game.
What say, we blow this joint, like 10:30, B-100?
Well, I’ll have to check with my escort,
but, okay, 10:30.
Oh, forgive the intrusion, Miss Delaney.
Have you seen Brian Singer?
Brian Singer?
[telephone ringing]
Yes.
You're what?
Yes, but how did--
Never mind, just stay where you are.
I’ll be right there.
No, I haven’t seen him.
Howdy, partner.
[laughter]
She’s dead, Mr. Greenstreet.
[man] There’s been no detailed analysis of the cause of death
completed at this time.
However--
Preliminaries indicate massive trauma to the skull
produced by a blow that knocked the deceased
into toy railroad car, followed by two more blows
and the weapon was a crowbar,
same used to open the security cabinet.
Apparently the victim interrupted...
a robbery in progress.
Item, one earring found missing on decedent,
recovered on floor.
Lieutenant Hornbeck, please forgive me.
But truly if the motive was robbery and the first blow
landed Miss Delaney in the railway car,
then the second and the third blow
would be somewhat redundant.
Your point, Mrs. Fletcher?
That the assailant’s motive was to kill, not to rob,
in which case the broken security cabinet
would simply be misdirection.
Yeah, excuse me.
-Harry! -Yeah.
Take this, the murder weapon.
Get it to forensics right away.
Yes, sir.
Um, Mrs. Fletcher, among my colleagues,
you have a fast-growing reputation
for deductive reasoning, but if you don’t mind,
for now, it’s robbery interruptus.
The perpetrator committed the homicide to avoid exposure.
Excuse me.
Moffett, I’m--I'm so sorry.
It’s Mr. McFarlane.
He’s waiting upstairs for the lieutenant.
Uh, that’s the woman’s husband, lieutenant.
Oh, upstairs.
No one will blame you if you want to go home, you know, Moffett.
Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher, but there’ll be tidying to do.
[Devery] I’d be less than honest if I said
my wife was universally loved,
but I can’t think of anyone
who hated her enough to kill her.
I have told you those two men
whose agencies would live or die
on Marathon advertising account,
either one of them would have given anything
for the contents of that security cabinet
you say was broken into.
Look, who had access to B-100?
I don’t know.
The industry is very paranoid when it comes to security.
My wife was even more so.
A digital code was required only after work hours.
It was for Miss Delaney herself,
Mr. McFarlane, Mr. Greenstreet
and five designers who work there.
I’ll need the names of all those designers.
-Yes, sir. -Yeah.
I got to tell you, it’s a whole new world.
What kind of a toy would someone kill for?
It wasn’t a toy yet,
but the design and specs for one.
Project 2100, a concept
that would lead the industry in to the next century.
You’re kidding.
Into the next century?
And you figure that’s what was stolen huh?
Yes, I do.
Believe it or not, two years ago I was in love with Meredith.
I married her in good faith, but almost everybody knew,
I came to despise her.
You must have heard about her affair with Boris Steloff?
Yes, I’m afraid so.
But what few know is that Meredith and I
had a pre-nuptial agreement.
With a divorce I get nothing, but now she’s dead,
I inherit whatever there is to inherit.
Which must be considerable.
You’re the writer.
What will the police do with that?
It depends.
Did you kill your wife?
If JB Fletcher has to ask that,
I better get myself a good lawyer.
In the morning if you wonder
why Edgar Greenstreet suddenly looks ten years younger,
get a copy of the annual report.
It comes out tomorrow.
Hello, Amanda?
Jessica Fletcher.
I’m sorry to be calling you so early in the morning.
Oh, then you know.
Yes, just an awful tragedy.
Well, I was calling you to see
if by any chance you’d heard from Brian.
No?
Well, he disappeared on me last night.
Oh, yeah, I tried him at home.
Well, thank you, Amanda.
Moffett.
I was here at eight o’clock
and they were still tearing the place apart.
Yes, it must be so distressing,
and I’m afraid that I’m gonna have to trouble you
for my signed copy of the contract.
Of course.
Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh, you’ve had a long night, lieutenant.
Are you any closer?
Uno phone call away.
But, you know, all the designers
who had access to B-100?
They all had corroborated alibis.
-Including Frank Christy? -The guy she fired?
See, that was my hunch too,
but he had an airtight alibi just like the rest.
There was something strange, though.
His bank account showed a $20,000 cash deposit made two days ago
and then the whole chunk was withdrawn
in traveler’s checks late yesterday,
and by this morning he disappeared.
Goes to show
there’s a lot of money to be made in toys, huh?
Hello. Lieutenant, it’s for you.
Excuse me.
Hello.
Thank you, Moffett.
Got it.
All right, boys, wrap it up.
Forensics identified our killer.
They found his fingerprints on the murder weapon
and all over the door to B-100.
Some guy named Brian Singer.
Brian?
Oh, lieutenant, I’m afraid
you’re jumping to some very fast conclusions.
You know this guy?
Well, yes.
It happens he was my escort last night.
Oh.
Well, then I guess you and I are gonna be spending
some more time together, Mrs. Fletcher.
[Jessica] Brian, the police have been looking all over for you.
Where have you been?
I’m really sorry I ran out on you last night.
Things just seemed to go haywire real quick.
All right, Brian, I’ll start at the beginning.
Now the last time we saw each other was around 9:30.
A little after that,
I saw Greenstreet get into the elevator
and go down to the basement.
He was by himself. I followed him.
And you thought that if you could get him one-on-one,
you just might be able to sell him your agency’s proposal?
Yep. Amanda is right. I am pigheaded.
But as it turned out, I couldn’t find him anyway.
So I got to exploring some of the workshops down there.
I must have lost track of time
and then when I started back I came across B-100.
But surely you knew that access to B-100
was only with the digital code.
It was open.
I thought maybe Greenstreet was in there
and I saw this busted security cabinet on the wall
and went for that,
and then I tripped on something.
The crowbar, wet with blood.
I thought somebody might have thought
that I'd broken in so I ran.
And you didn’t see anybody else down there?
No.
[telephone ringing]
This is Jessica Fletcher.
Hi, it’s Edgar Greenstreet.
I know it’s not the best of times,
but would you care to pick up
where we left off on Murder Will Out?
Oh, yes, yes, yes, I would
but could we possibly make it later in the day?
I’ve got some errands.
How’s six o’clock here at B-100?
Six is fine.
And plan on dinner later.
All right.
Brian, I want a straight answer to a simple question.
Did you kill Meredith Delaney?
No, Mrs. Fletcher.
Everything happened just like I said.
I came here because I just didn’t know where to turn to for help.
All right, but you’re guilty of some very foolish behavior.
But I will help on one condition,
that you immediately contact the police.
I’ll do that right now, Mrs. Fletcher.
Thank you.
Uh, I wonder if you might tell me
where I can find a friend of mine, his name is Frank Christy.
You’re too late, ma’am. Frank left early this morning.
Oh, did he say where he was going?
Nope. Had his passport, plane ticket
and some brand-new luggage.
Said he was off to faraway places.
Isn’t that just like Frank?
How’s that?
Well, I loaned him my ten-cup coffee pot.
It’s poker night tonight, and the girls are coming over.
Uh, I’ll suppose I could just, you know...
down the hall, the door’s open.
His sister just came by for her bread maker.
Hello, anybody here?
Mrs. Fletcher,
what in the heck are you doing here?
After I talked to you on the phone this morning,
I began to think that Brian
had finally done something really pigheaded.
Like trying to bribe Frank Christy for the access code.
Yes, that’s what brought me here too
and I suspect that somebody did bribe
Mr. Christy to the tune of $20,000.
Frank Christy could tell us
but he’s probably in London by now.
Well, if it’s any consolation, it wasn’t Brian.
And I don’t see anything here that would tell us
who it was.
I’m late for an appointment. Can I give you a ride across town?
Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher, but I wanna try to find where they have Brian.
-Maybe I can see him. -I think he’d like that.
Do you think it’s possible he’s learned a lesson?
Trust your instincts and don’t forget to lock up.
Do you always do that?
Do what?
Remove your earring when you make a phone call?
Guess it’s just a habit.
Just a habit.
Cute.
Oh, Moffett, I’m glad I caught you.
I just stopped by a broker friend to pick up
a copy of the Marathon annual report.
Perhaps you could clarify something for me.
I’ll certainly try, Mrs. Fletcher.
Now, it says here that Miss Delaney
owned over 300,000 shares of Marathon stock.
Something like that.
Each year her contract entitled her to options.
She always exercised them.
Now those shares would be Devery McFarlane’s now.
I would suppose, unless she arranged for them
to be left to somebody else.
And it also says that on the last day of next month
she could have acquired an additional 200,000 shares.
Why does that surprise you?
Well, with allies on the board,
she would have had even more power than Edgar Greenstreet.
You’ll have to excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher.
It’s all been too much for me.
Of course.
Moffett just called to say you have doubts about me, something to do
with Meredith Delaney’s stock options.
Only questions, Mr. Greenstreet.
Brian Singer may have been
in the wrong place at the wrong time,
but he’s an unlikely candidate
for Meredith Delaney’s murderer.
Well, what are the alternatives?
Well, let’s start with your mechanical gunslinger.
Oh, what happened to him?
I had Pistol Pete removed from the premises.
This whole thing has been very traumatic for him.
What about those two blood suckers,
Boris Steloff and Miles Packard?
Possibles.
I’ve been told that either one of them
would have killed his mother
for the Marathon account
but I think that Mr. Steloff had more reason.
Yes, after Meredith discovered him
making a hit on Amanda North. What about Amanda?
Nobody’s above suspicion in a game of Murder Will Out.
Agreed,
but there’s still another alternative, isn’t there?
You’re saying I’ve drawn the murderer’s card.
All right, draw a scene of the crime
and tell the other players what it says.
It says that about a half an hour
before you and I came upon her body,
Meredith Delaney received a call at her desk.
It upset her at first and then it seemed to thrill her.
Doubtless from her killer.
Apparently, someone she knew
and what drew her here was the promise of something
so important that the killer
was certain that she’d come.
You’d have to draw a clue card
to substantiate that, Mrs. Fletcher.
The clue card reads Project 2100.
You’ve been tantalizing Meredith Delaney with it
knowing that without all that sizzle
she could never have the credibility
she needed to inherit your job.
Motive rears its ugly head.
Her growing power in the company
was beginning to threaten you.
If she’d lived, she would have had enough
leverage to take your place as CEO.
There’s a card that’s left out, Mr. Greenstreet.
You mean the wild card?
Yes, and what would that be?
That Project 2100 never existed,
except perhaps in your head.
That’s nonsense.
Then it really was stolen, just as you implied
to Lieutenant Hornbeck last night.
There’s a real problem with that, Mr. Greenstreet.
You came in with me,
so we both know that you hadn’t been near the cabinet,
unless you’d been here earlier.
Go on.
Brian Singer followed you down
to the basement to talk to you.
The door was open and he entered
thinking that he would find you here.
Instead he discovered Meredith Delaney.
If you are the murderer,
you were probably still here at the time.
Right in every respect but one, Mrs. Fletcher.
Moffett, what are you talking about, huh?
How did you get in here?
Calm down, Mr. Greenstreet.
Moffett’s just doing what
she’s done for the last 20 years,
looking after you.
As for getting in here without the code,
it cost her a pot full of money.
Frank Christy solved that problem for you,
didn’t he, Moffett?
I’ve read enough of your books, Mrs. Fletcher,
to know that you counted on my being here.
Yes, I suspected you wouldn’t allow
Mr. Greenstreet to appear to be
Meredith Delaney’s killer.
It must have been very difficult
over all these years.
Playing the role of the perfect little drudge was easy,
watching her grow more and more powerful,
not so easy.
I’m lost.
What told you it was Moffett?
It had to do with the 20-year earrings you gave out.
They were identical except for the fact
that Moffett’s were for pierced ears
and Miss Delaney’s were clip-ons.
[Jessica] This afternoon I was reminded
that Miss Delaney had the habit of removing her left earring
when she took a phone call.
She did that last night
when she took Moffett’s call here.
And forgot to put it back on.
So Miss Delaney was only wearing one earring,
a clip-on, when she died, which raised the question
whose earring was it
that Lieutenant Hornbeck found on the floor?
It was for a pierced ear
and since you only gave out two sets of earrings,
it had to be Moffett’s,
which meant that she had access to B-100
and was at some point on the scene of the murder.
[Moffett] The stud on my earning was loose.
No!
It got knocked off when I struck her.
Upstairs I realized what happened.
The first thing I did was to put on the clip-on
she’d left behind.
I want to make a statement to Lieutenant Hornbeck now.
Mr. Greenstreet thinks I did it for him
but I did it for myself.
Boss lady had teeth and claws
and I didn’t.
She worked nights
and made keys to all the offices.
She copied people’s ideas and claimed them as her own.
She made love to the men who could help her
and when she couldn’t use them anymore,
she fired them.
The day she became more powerful
than you could handle, Mr. Greenstreet,
that’s the day you came to me
and I became your mole.
I’ve got to thank you.
It’s the only thing that made it bearable over the years.
That and knowing that someday
I’d have my own kind of revenge.
Moffett, I don’t know what to say.
Then stop calling me Moffett.
My name is Sylvia.
And so it gives me great pleasure to present you
with this prototype copy
of the JB Fletcher game, Murder Will Out.
Thank you, Edgar,
and thank you for making it happen.
All right, everybody, to the table
while the food is still hot.
There’s something I need to ask you.
What’s that?
Now your Project 2100,
is that a reality or is that simply
another figment of your overactive imagination?
Oh, it’s a reality, all right.
In fact, it’s called Virtual Reality,
toys with the ultimate in touchy-feely immediacy.
Congratulations, Mrs. Fletcher.
Thank you, Amanda, Brian.
It’s good to see you two working together again.
Oh, better than that, we’ve decided
it’s time to go out on our own.
You mean your own agency? That’s wonderful.
Edgar, you haven’t made any final decision
about the Marathon agency, have you?
Well, no.
Mr. Greenstreet, if you have a moment,
Amanda and I would really like to pitch you
on our new agency, Singer & North.
-That’s North & Singer. -North & Singer.
You, with your version of virtual reality
coming off the drawing board.
Us with the design and marketing approach
to bring toys into the 21st century.