Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
Men fear him,
- women adore him. - Never heard of him.
I'm completely under his spell.
Do you really think I might have killed the louse?
How did I get in the room?
A trapeze act? What kind of a trapeze act?
I took my clothes off on a swing, that doesn't make me a daredevil.
I'm not sorry he's dead but I didn't have to kill him.
I've got six witnesses, five suspects...
One very dead body and no case.
I want to follow that cream car.
Climb aboard!
Ladies and gentlemen,
observe the power of hypnosis!
Now, volunteers, when I clap my hands,
you will each become your favorite animal.
What have we here, a wounded elephant?
- Phony. - Ah, come on, Bud.
The guy's a two-bit fraud. You know that.
Stop!
And now, volunteers, when I clap my hands,
you will each of you be yourself again,
but this time, totally naked!
Ladies and gentlemen, the Great Cagliostro!
Joe, I swear I couldn't help myself.
- Don't be ridiculous. - He uses hypnosis.
It's terrifying. I'm completely under his spell.
Regina, do you think I'm an idiot?
You can't make people do things against their will...
Even under hypnosis!
Not unless they really, deep down, want to anyway.
I admit I... I was attracted to him,
but I-I never intended to do anything about it.
Now he won't let me go.
Please, you've got to believe me, Joe.
Oh, my darling.
You won't have to worry about Cagliostro anymore.
What are you gonna do?
I just signed that bum
to a three-year, million-dollar contract.
Well, if he thinks that entitles him to bed privileges
with my beautiful wife,
he's got a surprise in store for him.
Joe! Wait!
You won't be able to wear that.
Can't wear these great costumes.
- Great audience, isn't it? - Yes. Wonderful crowd.
Enjoy it while you can, Cagliostro.
Tonight is your last performance.
Last performance? What do you mean, old boy?
I want you out of this hotel tonight.
Let me remind you, Joe.
My contract entitles me to a million dollars
over three years,
whether I appear at your hotel or not.
Throwing you out on your butt will be worth it.
I wouldn't try that, my friend.
It might cost you more than you imagine...
Including the fair Regina.
Come on.
You're out, you hear me? I'll get you, Cagliostro!
Here we are, Mrs. Fletcher. The Lakeside Suite, 1241.
Oh, that sounds fine. Do you need a credit card or something?
Oh no, no. That won't be necessary.
We've arranged to bill your publisher.
Oh, really? Nice.
I wonder if you could tell me
the room number of Miss Dean...
Marilyn Dean? She's my editor.
Dean. Let me check.
Mrs. Fletcher. There you are!
Joan, I didn't know you were coming.
I was so worried about you.
I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.
I don't have Miss Dean registered.
Oh?
Oh, I guess I should have told you.
Uh, Marilyn won't be getting here until tomorrow.
- Oh. - Uh, Mrs. Fletcher,
I'm sure you're probably pretty tired,
and maybe a little hungry, and they've got this
terrific restaurant right around the corner.
And I can tell you about my-- I mean our...
I-I mean Marilyn's idea for your new book.
Uh, excuse me, Joan, but what idea for what new book?
Anyway, Marilyn thinks it's an absolutely
sensational backdrop for a mystery.
The master hypnotist with the--
With the art of illusion to cloud men's minds.
Men fear him. Women adore him.
Joan, forgive me,
but I have known Marilyn far too long
to accept this idea as coming from her.
Now, that urgent telegram summoning me to get here
may have been signed by her,
but I suspect that she did not send it.
I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.
I was afraid if
I signed my name, you wouldn't come.
I mean, after all, who am I? I'm just an assistant editor.
All I ever get to do is proofread.
Now I guess I won't even be doing that.
Why?
Because when Mr. Winfield finds out what I did,
me and my blue pencil are gonna be out on the street.
Now, Joan, you acted impetuously,
to say the very least,
but I'm certainly not going to say anything to him about it.
Well, see, it's not that simple.
- I sent him a telegram too. - Oh, dear.
I was so sure you'd flip for Cagliostro, I--
I never even considered for a minute that
you'd hate the idea.
I've already seen his show five times.
Tonight I even taped it. I...
Oh, boy.
Well, now, that isn't gonna solve anything.
Now, look, Joan,
I'll tell you what we're gonna do.
I'll remain here this evening.
Then tomorrow, you can call up Mr. Winfield...
And tell him that I wasn't the least bit intrigued
with this character of Cagliostro
and flew back to Maine.
Mrs. Fletcher, you're terrific.
I don't know how to thank you.
Well, just don't send any more telegrams.
Oh, my gosh, there he is!
Cagliostro?
I think it was the lady who was the elephant.
Yeah, the elephant lady was...
Strange, I've never heard of him.
Are you kidding?
He's probably the best hypnotist in the world.
He came from England several years ago.
And there's an exciting air of mystery about his past,
but he won't divulge a bit of it.
Uh, sorry.
Let's order. I'm starved.
So am I.
Double Gibson, rocks.
I'm still waiting for that interview, Cagliostro.
Or do I simply call you "amazing"?
Hey. Come on, Bud.
You know very well I never give interviews,
Mr. Michaels.
What's the matter?
Too many skeletons rattling around in the closet?
What about Surrey Street?
Or what about the last time you saw Reggie Downes?
Sir, you're disturbing us.
Leave me alone or I'll have Zack remove you.
You can remove me, all right, Cagliostro...
Or whatever your name really is...
But you can't remove the truth.
I'm going to keep on digging.
Me and lots of other reporters.
There's too much dirt under the carpet, fella.
It'll come out sooner or later!
Mr. Michaels, I'm going to make you an offer.
Meet me in my suite in half an hour,
and I will give you every detail of my past life.
Any other journalists that care to attend are welcome.
You may print anything that you wish,
providing... you can remember it.
What's that supposed to mean?
My one condition is that I will hypnotize you first.
Proving what?
That if I am, as you say, nothing but a charlatan,
you have nothing to worry about.
If, on the other hand,
I am indeed the world's greatest hypnotist,
I will accomplish what no other hypnotist can do...
Permanently prevent you from remembering one word
that you hear.
Now, accept my offer or leave me alone.
I don't believe it.
I mean, you couldn't write that scene if you tried.
I certainly couldn't.
Would you excuse me, Mrs. Fletcher?
Uh, Joan, Joan, uh, wait.
If he thinks he can get me under his spell, he's crazy.
But you've gotta go, Bud.
Otherwise you'll look like a fool or a coward.
You think I care what that creep thinks?
Let him stage his show.
Me, I-I'm going up to my room and pass out.
Bud, please.
Let me know how it all turns out.
- Me? - Yeah.
Yeah, you're taking my place.
Listen, Andy, your old man was a hell of a newsman,
and you'll be one too.
Now, go round up some of the local boys
and call his bluff.
I'll see ya at breakfast.
- Mr. Cagliostro! - Yes?
I-I'm sorry to bother you but I was in the restaurant just now and,
and I thought you'd want to know
that a fabulously famous author is staying in the hotel,
and I think maybe I can get her to participate in your demonstration.
And, just which fabulously famous author would that be?
J.B. Fletcher, the mystery writer.
Mrs. Fletcher? Well... I would be honored to have her attend.
-We will begin promptly, in 20 minutes. Thanks, we'll be here.
Hello. Mrs. Fletcher, isn't it?
Yes.
Well, I thought I recognized you.
I'm Andy Townsend.
I work for Bud Michaels, the columnist.
Well, I wouldn't expect you to recognize his name...
Unless you buy your reading material
at the supermarket checkout counter.
Oh, I see.
Well, Mr. Townsend, I have a dire feeling
we're both in the same predicament.
I think my editor's assistant
is trying to wangle me into the same press session.
- I guess you saw what happened. - Uh, pretty hard not to.
Well, I hope you will attend.
I managed to scare up a few of the local reporters,
but having you in the group
would give it a real touch of class.
Well, thanks, but, uh, I'm heading for my bed.
I'm going to go to sleep... The old-fashioned way.
Good night.
- It's you, isn't it? - I beg your pardon?
It is you!
Nurse Beecham! Oh, I'd recognize you anyplace.
I watch Doctors After Hours every afternoon.
You're my favorite character.
Look, I'm so sorry to disappoint you,
but I am not Nurse Beecham.
Oh, I understand. Fans can be so bothersome.
- It'll be our secret. - Well, that's very considerate,
but I assure you that my name is J.B. Fletcher.
Oh, of course you are, of course you are.
You know, the ladies in my bridge club
would be so thrilled to meet you.
It'll just take a minute.
They're right in at the crap table.
Uh, Mr. Townsend. Mr. Townsend! Mr. Townsend!
Uh, look, I am a writer.
I wrote this book.
This is my picture. I am J.B. Fletcher.
No, you're not!
- Mrs. Fletcher! - Slow down.
I ran down the stairs. The elevator's too slow.
Mrs. Fletcher, we're in.
He's honored, absolutely honored that you're coming.
Joan, I am not coming.
And I am not horning in on that charade.
But you've been invited.
I mean, you're a writer.
Aren't you the least bit curious?
Ah. Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, welcome.
Sit down, please.
Please, make yourselves comfortable.
Uh, let me explain.
Mr. Michaels, the man for whom
this was arranged, has not seen fit to join us tonight.
However, we do welcome his representative.
Now, before we begin,
I'm going to ask all of you to relax.
Clear from your minds all worries and anxieties, hmm?
You will only remember that you heard me
say important and revealing things
about myself,
but you will not remember what they are.
That memory will remain
erased from your mind for all time.
Very good. You may lower your arms.
Now, my story begins in a small flat in London,
not far from Trafalgar Square, in 1972.
Sorry we're late.
We just couldn't get the elevator
to move any faster.
I'm sorry, honey. The show's already started.
Look, I couldn't open this door if I wanted to. I don't have the key.
Mr. Cagliostro, you okay?
I didn't like the sound of that.
Mr. Cagliostro!
Mr. Cagliostro, everything all right?
What's going on here?
Something's happened inside and we-we can't get in.
Open up!
How do you like this one?
Six eye witnesses and they can't tell me a thing.
Where the hell is that psychologist?
Yambert? Should be here any minute.
I understand you were
just outside when the murder took place, Miss Fletcher.
Well, not exactly.
I was outside when the glass was broken.
And it's Mrs. Fletcher.
Did you see or hear anything
that might help to identify the killer?
I'm afraid not.
It was all over by the time we entered the room.
Are you staying here at the hotel?
Mmm-hmm.
Well, don't check out for the next few hours.
We'll be talking to you later.
Ma'am, this is a crime scene.
Please. Please don't go wandering around.
Lieutenant, don't you think that's curious?
- What's that? - The hole in the glass.
I mean, it's too far from the lock
for a normal human being to reach,
unless they had a six-foot arm.
Yeah, of course. Anybody can, uh, see that.
But then why break the glass?
Excuse me.
What do you think?
Uh, yeah, they're under.
I know that. How do we get 'em out of it?
Perhaps I can help.
- You're a hypnotist too? - No, no.
But a friend of mine taped Cagliostro's show tonight,
and perhaps we could play back the part
where he brings the people out of the trance.
I mean, it might work on the witnesses too.
When I count to three and snap my fingers,
you will wake up.
You will feel refreshed, alert and happy,
and all things will be as I said they would be.
One, two, three.
Awaken.
- Hey. What's going on? - What happened?
Hey. What is this?
All right now, just relax folks.
Does anyone remember what happened after
Cagliostro put you under?
- Did he put us under? - I don't remember that.
- Where is Cagliostro? - Okay, okay.
Everybody go with Mr. Yambert here,
and we'll explain everything later.
Now wait a minute. We're the press.
We have a right to know what's going on.
I know.
And you're also witnesses to a crime,
and right now that's a little more important.
So, please, go with Mr. Yambert.
- We'll explain later, just go. - Did you see what happened?
- Mrs. Fletcher! - Oh, hi.
Uh, I'm so sorry. I overslept.
Oh, you're smart.
Anybody who jogs in this thin air
needs their head examined.
I'm awfully sorry.
It's all my fault for getting you dragged into this thing.
Well, not exactly dragged in.
As a matter of fact, last night Lieutenant Bergkamp
said I was free to go.
Oh. Thank God for that.
I spent a terrible night worrying.
I feel so responsible.
- When are you leaving? - Soon I guess.
You know, Joan, one thing you said
really brought me up short.
You said,
"You're a writer. Aren't you the least bit curious?"
Well, yes, I am a writer,
and I am more than a little bit curious
about how that man was killed.
You mean you're going to stay, to solve the mystery?
I said I was curious, that's all.
I'll probably leave in the morning.
Right.
Six people sitting there, eyes wide open,
witnessing a murder,
and not one of them can tell us what happened.
Unbelievable.
Yeah. Unbelievable.
Dr. Yambert, I have difficulty in believing that
six people could just have their memories erased.
They are not erased. Blocked.
By a powerful, post-hypnotic suggestion, a memory lock, if you will.
You've never been hypnotized, have you Mrs. Fletcher?
No, no. I haven't.
So naturally you're skeptical and an intelligent person who
doesn't wish to be put under a spell
can be forced to do so against his or her will.
The thought, had occurred to me.
Uh, would you like a graphic demonstration?
Just uh, to satisfy your curiosity. Would you eh...
- Like me to hypnotize you? - Yes. But I don't think it will work.
Well, why don't we just see, hm?
All right now, just relax.
Close your eyes, clear your mind.
You're in a safe place. That's right.
Now just listen to the sound of my voice.
So... peaceful. So... relaxing and restful.
You have a feeling of well being. You're floating on a soft cloud.
Now, when I count to three and snap my fingers,
you will come out and feel just fine.
And you won't remember anything that's happened.
One, two, three.
I'm sorry, Dr. Yambert, but I warned you that I wouldn't be a very good subject.
Oh no, you did just fine. Eh, would you like to listen?
Listen? Eh, uh, listen to what?
Now tell me what you really think of my office
Answer as a barfly, who's had one too many.
Say, Hurley! Where did you pick up this junk? At a swap meet?
And now you're Park Avenue-rich. How do you like my office?
Frankly, the decor is simply grotesque. But if you must
wear that jacket, at least have the decency to have it pressed.
Eh, so what do you think of hypnosis now, Mrs. Fletcher?
Oh, I'll tell you as soon as I stop blushing!
What do you want?
I said, "what do you want?" Now that he's dead,
we have a little matter of money to discuss.
- Hello. - Oh, hi.
I hope I'm, uh, not disturbing you.
Are you kidding? Listen. This machine talks.
Too bad. Try again.
- Here. Go ahead, give it a try. - Oh, no, no, no, thank you.
I've already lost my quota.
I suppose it must have been,
uh, quite an ordeal...
- Try again. - I mean, the police questioning.
Questioning? It was more like an inquisition.
I kept tellin' them I didn't remember a thing,
and they just kept askin' me the same questions
over and over again.
I was ready to confess just to get 'em off my back.
You know, I noticed that
Mr. Michaels was quite intoxicated last night.
Yeah. That's been bothering me.
Michaels drinks like a fish, but he never shows it.
But he was drunk after a couple of shots.
Perhaps he has a medical problem.
No. I mean, except for a pickled liver,
Bud's in great shape.
You know, I've seen him toss back eight Martinis...
And then run 50 straight balls at a pool table.
Yet, for some reason,
when he staggered toward the lift,
I just kept thinking that he was faking it.
Why?
Well, Michaels is a funny guy.
I mean, he tries to act real tough,
but underneath it all he's a pussycat.
Yeah, I think that it was his way of trying
to give me a shot at a big story...
The way my old man used to do for him.
The only thing is, he didn't know how big.
Andy Townsend.
Paging Andy Townsend.
Speaking of the great guy, he seems to be up and about,
and it's not even noon yet.
Excuse me.
Come on. Be a sport.
I'm ready to pay off.
Sorry, you can't come in here.
Well, well, Mrs. Fletcher. Come on in!
Oh, thank you, lieutenant. Excuse me.
Well, Mrs. Fletcher,
would you like a quote or two, maybe some pictures?
How about a shot of me in profile,
looking like a damned fool?
I beg your pardon, lieutenant?
Your assistant told me about your book.
I don't suppose there's much I can do to stop it.
Lieutenant, there is no book.
Joan has a very hyperactive imagination.
But even if I was writing up this story,
you certainly wouldn't come off looking like a fool.
I think you're doing a fine job, under the circumstances.
Oh. Well, thanks.
Look, I am as baffled as you are,
but if I can be of any help...
We do have one promising suspect in Mr. Kellijian.
Yes, but the trouble is
you'll have trouble making a case against him.
Oh? Why?
Well, because despite his anger
over Cagliostro having an affair with his wife,
and his threats earlier that evening,
the one fact that is not easily explained away
is how could he possibly walk off that elevator
only seconds after the glass was broken?
Suppose he had an accomplice.
A man with Kellijian's power and money
could hire somebody
to break the glass after he left.
Well, all right.
But how did the accomplice get off the balcony?
Because it seems that's the only means of escape...
Considering all this.
I don't want you talking to her, that's all.
Come on, Bud. She's a nice lady.
And she could be crimping my act.
Listen, Andy,
if anybody's going to figure out
how that phony got killed, and by whom,
it's going to be yours truly.
Could be my ticket back to the top.
Now, stop answering questions and start asking a few.
- Hello. - Hiya.
Whoo! A sophisticated-looking bicycle.
Actually, I just jog usually.
Too tough on the legs.
It's Mrs. Fletcher, right? Mrs. Fletcher?
Uh-huh.
Yeah. I used to exercise for my work.
Now it's just this habit.
Uh, Miss Diamond, you used to work
for Mr. Cagliostro, didn't you?
Yeah.
I wonder if you could, uh, maybe clear up
a couple of things about him.
What you doing, writing a book?
Strange, everybody asks me that question.
Well, I got no secrets, so what do you wanna know?
Well, for one thing,
why Mr. Michaels had such an intense dislike for him.
Bud Michaels, now there's a character for you.
Cagliostro used to brag about Michaels.
He knew him when Michaels was a correspondent in London.
I mean when he was a real newsman.
Not the trashy gossip he writes now.
Michaels tried to prove that Cagliostro used hypnosis
to pull off this blackmail scheme.
- Really? - Uh-huh.
Only Cagliostro was too smart for Michaels.
He tricked him into printing
a bunch of lies and then sued him for libel.
It cost his wire service big bucks.
And then Michaels and his bureau chief were fired.
And Michaels didn't work for at least a year.
Then he finally started doin' the crap he's doin' now.
Mm. No wonder Mr. Michaels hated him so much.
Yeah.
We all had a hard spot in our hearts
for Cagliostro.
But you did go on working for him.
Oh, come on. A job's a job.
I've sure had worse.
Like that sleaze joint in Vegas where he caught my act.
Act? What kind of act?
I was a stripper.
A daring young lady
who took it all off on the flying trapeze.
This is Andy Townsend. I'm calling for Bud Michaels.
Yeah, look, he asked me to get some background...
On a gal who used to work for you in your club,
a Sheri Diamond.
Yeah, that's her.
She did, huh? A trapeze act?
What kind of a trapeze act?
Oh, you're kidding.
Mr. Killijian!
- What is it, Liz? More bad news? - I'm afraid so, Sir.
A dozen more cancellations already this morning. These are early check-outs.
All these police.
People are nervous.
Why the hell couldn't he have died at some other hotel?
Good morning, Mr. Michaels.
Is it? I hadn't noticed.
Mind if I join you for a moment?
Not at all.
Thank you.
I, uh--I allow myself one hour of fresh air a day.
I've still got another... 15 minutes.
Uh-huh.
- Care for a snort? - Oh, no, no. Thank you.
Uh, nurse, one more time.
Well, Mrs. Fletcher, wanna talk about the weather,
or, uh, shall we lie to each other
about the Cagliostro killing?
Look.
We're both trying to get a scoop on this one,
and we'll get along just fine
if we don't get in each other's way.
I'm not in competition with you, Mr. Michaels.
In fact, my interest in this case is simply curiosity.
And, maybe a book?
Well even if that were the case I could hardly scoop you, could I?
No, I was just hoping that maybe we could pool information, you know.
- Great. I don't know a thing. - No?
Well, maybe you could tell me one thing.
Shoot.
Why did you pretend to be drunk last night
and not attend Cagliostro's demonstration?
Pretend?
Hey, that's pretty good, honey.
Remind me not to invite you to my Friday night poker games.
Look, I knew it was going to be a sideshow.
I didn't want to lower myself to his level.
- So you went upstairs. - To bed.
Can anybody vouch for that?
Uh, well, maybe ten years ago.
You really think I might have killed the louse?
Swell idea, but how did I get in the room?
Well, I'll be damned!
Excuse me.
Joan!
Mrs. Fletcher, I think they're onto something.
At least it's an idea.
Well, I'm afraid it's not a very good one.
I found out something about... Here she is now.
Okay, I'm here. What's this all about?
Miss Diamond, I was wondering
if you wouldn't mind helping us out...
By telling us if you think it's possible...
For anyone to get down to Cagliostro's room...
From off the roof.
How would I know?
Well, I thought since you used to be a trapeze artist...
I took my clothes off on a swing.
That doesn't make me a daredevil.
Please. Just take a look, okay?
- Lemme go! - Okay, okay.
I've got better things to do than...
Deal with your stupid ideas.
- What's goin' on here? - It worked.
She gave herself away. She what?
When I saw what the lieutenant was up to,
I asked her to come here.
Don't you see? She used to be a trapeze artist.
She-she lowered herself off the roof
and swung onto Cagliostro's balcony
and killed him.
And when I confronted her with the idea
of re-enacting the crime, she freaked.
She has a point, Mrs. Fletcher.
I'm sorry, lieutenant, but what was her motive?
She gained nothing from Cagliostro's death
except unemployment.
Anyway, that contraption over there
took several men and a great deal of time to set up.
Now, how could she have done that, on her own,
in the half hour that elapsed between Cagliostro's challenge
and his death?
There has to be an answer.
Well, I'm afraid that is not it.
Lieutenant, what the hell are you doing up on my roof
without my permission?
I don't need your permission, Kellijian.
- We're investigating a murder. - Hey, don't I know it.
Cops are all over the place. They're drivin' my guests away.
You keep this up, I'm gonna be out of business.
When the hell are you gonna wrap this up?
At the rate we're goin', maybe by ski season.
Excuse me.
They are really doing their best, Mr. Kellijian.
Yeah, their best. That's the trouble.
I don't blame you for being upset.
I mean, it's a terrible thing to be under suspicion.
Me? I didn't kill him.
Well, you and he had a violent argument.
That's a personal matter. That's none of your business.
Well, I doubt the police will see it as personal.
An unfaithful mate is the oldest motive in the world.
So you know about that, huh?
Well, I had another way of getting even with him.
I called my attorney.
We found a way to break his contract.
It's called a morals clause.
I was going to kick him out without paying him a cent.
I didn't have to kill him.
Why did you attack him earlier that evening then?
Because it made me feel good.
I'm not sorry he's dead, but I didn't have to kill him.
And by the way, neither did my wife.
Before I went up to Cagliostro's suite last night,
Regina and I were together.
Excuse me.
But even if there are two Kellijians with a motive,
how did either of them get into that room?
That's the puzzle.
Those inside didn't have motives,
and those with motives couldn't get inside.
Ah. It's time to call New York.
A friend of a friend of a friend used to work with Zack Bernard.
Maybe I can learn something. Well, I certainly hope so.
Excuse me, young man.
Do you know where I can find a taxi around here?
One will be around in a minute.
Oh, that'll be too late. I want to follow that cream car.
You're kidding. Like in the movies?
Well, yes, but I'm afraid it's too late.
No way. Climb aboard!
- Climb? - Yeah.
Hey, you wanna catch that car or not?
Well, yes, but please be careful.
Hang on. Here we go!
What was that all about?
I think that is what is referred to as a payoff.
Oh. Mrs. Fletcher.
- Please, come in. - Thank you.
You have no idea how relieved I am that you have
proof of my husband's innocence.
Oh, I'm afraid that's not quite true.
I wanted to talk to you privately,
but I wasn't sure that you'd see me
if I told you why.
I followed you an hour ago.
I saw you give that cash to Zack Bernard.
I suppose you want your cut too.
No, Mrs. Kellijian.
But I'm here because I have to
tell Lieutenant Bergkamp what I saw,
and I wanted to give you a chance to explain first.
Well, I should have known better.
But I didn't know what else to do.
He's blackmailing me.
Well, you could have told the police.
Mrs. Fletcher,
if it was something I could tell the police,
I wouldn't have to pay him, would I?
Then you'd rather be implicated
in the Cagliostro murder?
- It adds up to the same thing. - Oh?
I was involved with Cagliostro.
I suppose I wanted to be.
There was something about him.
Anyway, I tried to stop seeing him,
but he threatened to make trouble.
I was scared. I didn't see any other way.
I offered Zack a lot of money to kill him.
Oh, my.
The next day, he called
and asked me to come to his hotel room
to discuss the details.
Then he said he'd think about it.
He never mentioned it again until yesterday.
What I didn't know was that
he recorded that conversation at our second meeting.
But even if he has no alibi,
there's no way that Kellijian
could have personally killed Cagliostro.
Zack could have been his accomplice.
No, Zack could have let someone in
before Cagliostro arrived.
Well, that would eliminate Michaels and Regina Kellijian,
because they were both seen
in the restaurant with Cagliostro.
That leaves only Sheri Diamond.
Yeah.
If Zack let her in beforehand,
she could have killed Cagliostro
and then left by the balcony.
She broke the glass to create a false trail
and then climbed down to the balcony below.
But Sheri didn't have a motive.
Didn't she?
When we nabbed Zack at the state line
with the money, he spilled everything.
Sheri was in love with Cagliostro.
But she was too available to be interesting.
What a great concept:
Jealous trapeze artist murders famous hypnotist.
Great concept maybe, but not a great case for a jury.
Look, I'm afraid it's too far-fetched.
We keep goin' around in the same circles.
I've got six witnesses, five suspects,
one very dead body, and no case.
Six competent, intelligent, observant newsmen and women...
Actually witness a murder and can't tell me a thing.
They might as well be deaf, dumb and blind.
Lieutenant, say that again.
I said I've got six witnesses.
No, no, no, no, no. What you said afterwards.
They might as well be deaf, dumb and blind.
That's it.
- Of course. - That's what?
I think we may have found a way of solving our problem.
That sounded strangely like a sigh of relief.
Oh, it was.
Mrs. Fletcher and that lieutenant just cracked the murder case.
No kidding?
It's gonna make a hell of a book.
So, who did it?
Oh, I don't think I should divulge.
Hey, it'll hit the streets sooner or later.
Why not give me the scoop?
Okay, but you have to promise that you can't print anything
until they get the final proof.
- Honey, you've got my word. - Okay.
Well, this is what they think happened.
You see, Sheri Diamond used to be a trapeze artist in Vegas.
She had an act.
Mr. Townsend, we need your help.
Sure. What's up?
Well, we've narrowed the suspects down to one.
But without a witness, we can't prove a thing.
Lieutenant, you know as well as I do that I can't
remember what happened.
I know, I know, but we found a hypnotist
who thinks he can break Cagliostro's memory lock.
- Really? That's great. - Right.
So if he can put you under,
he might make you remember everything.
So, who did it? I can't tell you ahead of time.
For your testimony to be valid, you have to tell us.
Now, can you meet us in Cagliostro's suite
in about 20 minutes?
You're very relaxed. All is well.
You're safe, secure and serene.
You're floating on a soft, billowing cloud.
You're at peace. You're happy and content.
I want you to go now...
To the last time you were in this room.
You will remember everything,
every little detail with crystal clarity,
at my command.
Now, tell me everything you see.
I remember Cagliostro's voice,
and then suddenly, behind me, I heard
a sound of someone at the window.
All right, bring him out of it. We've heard enough.
When I snap my fingers, you will awaken
and remember everything you've seen.
Hey. I can remember what happened.
It was Sheri, and she escaped out the window!
I'm sorry, Mr. Townsend, but it didn't happen that way.
Well, I was there. Sheri killed him.
Well, that's what we wanted you to believe,
so Joan planted that story with Mr. Michaels,
knowing that he would tell you.
But I'm afraid it couldn't have been Sheri.
It was obvious from the way she behaved on the roof.
She was nervous, seemed afraid.
A little checking confirmed my hunch.
She was almost killed in a fall last year,
and ever since, she's been seeing a psychiatrist
for a severe case of acrophobia.
She's afraid of heights.
That can't be.
I saw her, and I was in a trance.
A trance?
Let me introduce our hypnotist.
Jake Callucci.
He's the Blackjack dealer from the casino next door.
He doesn't know the first thing about hypnosis.
Dr. Yambert coached him in what to say.
You weren't in a trance just now,
and you weren't in a trance last night.
You cleverly discovered how to outwit
Cagliostro's most powerful tool: his voice.
You put earplugs in your ears before you came up to the room.
In effect, you became temporarily deaf.
That's why you didn't respond
when I called to you in the lobby...
Because you couldn't hear me.
Upstairs in the room,
you pretended to be in a trance like the others.
Then you surprised Cagliostro
and stabbed him to death
with a steak knife from the restaurant.
No wonder you're a writer.
You've got one hell of an imagination.
Lieutenant Bergkamp confirmed that you
bought your earplugs in the gift shop.
And your reference to the elevator as a lift...
Suggested that you had spent some time in England.
And I'm sure that some digging around
will turn up a connection with Cagliostro.
I'll save you the trouble.
My father was Bud Michaels' bureau chief,
and as such, he okayed the article
that Cagliostro tricked Michaels into writing.
So when Cagliostro sued Michaels,
my father was named too.
And when Michaels' career was destroyed,
my father's was destroyed along with it.
He just couldn't face starting over again, so...
He k--he killed himself.
I wanted to get Cagliostro
for years...
But I just could never figure out how.
But when this thing dropped into my lap,
the whole plan came to me just like that.
Forgot to count to three.
I just wanted to say, thanks.
You know, I'm liable to call you
the next time I've got a mystery on my hands.
Well, as long as it isn't involved with a locked room,
please.
I promise.
Mrs. Fletcher!
I-I just talked to New York.
Mr. Winfield is ecstatic,
and the salespeople are wild about the story!
I mean, if you, uh, really want to write it.
Oh, all right, I give up.
Look, it's an interesting puzzle.
- I'll give it a try. - Oh, terrific.
Uh, there's just one slight problem.
Well, isn't there always?
They don't like the new ending.
They love it with Sheri as the killer,
and they asked if-if maybe
you wouldn't mind bending the truth just a little.
A little?