Believe me, I'm going to deal with Sid Sharkey
in the strongest possible terms.
[Jessica] Tonight, on Murder, She Wrote.
Shortly before the explosion,
a woman's footsteps were heard in the vicinity of his office.
She's got 87 lines. Eighty-seven.
Almost as much as me.
If you want that narcissistic egomaniac on the set,
you're gonna have to get him yourself.
You're the director! You handle this!
I'm just lucky I wasn't in the same room with him when the bomb went off.
I told you to mind your own business.
Oh, dear Lord.
[cheerful orchestral music]
Well now, Anne, lookee here.
If that don't beat all.
See that scar?
Well, good heavens, doctor.
That looks like an old knife wound.
It sure does.
I guess we know what that means.
I'm sorry, doctor.
You're way ahead of me, as usual.
Unless I miss my guess,
Dalton Ramsey was severely wounded,
oh, I'd say no more than two months ago.
Which means he was the one who hid in the alley
waiting for Agatha Baxendale's chauffeur to respond
to the blackmail note that had been sent
to Agatha's brother-in-law, Sidney,
the night before Naomi Randall's elopement with...
Ran off with who?
Siegfried Perlmutter.
Siegfried, Perlmutter, Naomi?
Who comes up with these names anyway?
All right, cut!
[buzzer buzzes]
See, that's what we're selling here.
Gary's down-home, easygoing style.
Brenda's the big-city counterpart--
Urban, tough, independent.
That gets us access to the younger female audience.
Now, when I say "tough",
I mean strong, but not enough to turn off our male appeal.
Gary's our star, so let him be the engine
that drives the story.
Think of Brenda as...
the fireman stoking the engine.
So every week Dr. Steve Valiant gets involved
with a major crime.
Right.
And Dr. Valiant solves the case
with foxy down-home common sense...
Mm-hmm.
...assisted by his street-smart big-city nurse.
Keep the contrast sharp.
And in the end, Dr. Valiant beats up the bad guys
and hands them over to the police.
More or less.
[clears throat] Mr. Stone,
I don't want you to think that I'm ungrateful
for this opportunity,
but I'm not sure that I could
think of a story line that you would like.
Don't worry, honey.
Have I got a great plot for you.
Batted it out last night.
This is very good.
You bet it is.
The only thing is--
Well, this business with the poison
and the dead brother who faked his death,
and then the switch at the end with the fire at the mortuary,
isn't that the same as J.B. Fletcher's new book?
Similar. I read it last week.
Well, actually, I didn't read it.
Somebody gave me a three-paragraph synopsis.
I don't know.
I don't think I could just steal her plot line.
Honey,
what do you think television's all about?
We haven't got time to-- to think up new plots.
Yeah, but--
Look, miss Yamada, I'm a busy guy.
Now, the network says, "use a female writer."
Well, okay. I'm using one.
The bucks are good.
You get your foot in the door.
Now, you want this gig or don't you?
Mrs. Fletcher, the newspaper said
you were leaving town today.
[chuckling]
My publisher is an absolute tyrant.
Having a chance to meet my readers is such a pleasure.
"To Lydia, a devoted reader.
Love, Jessica Fletcher."
Oh, I thank you!
Wait till I show the girls.
-Good evening. -Good evening, Mrs. Fletcher.
I-I don't want to buy a book.
I-I mean, I bought one last week.
But, um...
Yes?
Is there somewhere we could talk privately?
It's very important.
I mean, this is a tremendous break for me, Mrs. Fletcher.
I can earn more from this one script
than I've made in the past two years.
But stealing your story?
No way.
Anyway, I just wanted to let you know
what was happening.
And I appreciate your telling me, Gayle.
This Mr. Stone sounds like a very dishonest person.
He's a television producer.
Oh, now.
You're much too young to be that cynical.
Well, I'm afraid if I don't do this,
he'll find someone who will.
If I were you, I would get a lawyer.
Well, why don't we cross that bridge when we come to it?
Cookie?
Oh, thank you.
Meanwhile...
Yes?
Well, what about you and me
coming up with a new story?
Something that this gentleman may like even better.
Oh, no, no, no.
I-I couldn't impose on you like that.
Why not?
I think it would be a lot of fun.
And if your Mr. Stone likes this scenario better,
well, then you can tell him
it's instead of stealing the plot of my book.
You're out on a ledge, Rocco.
Come to grips with your iniquity
while you still have a chance.
[scoffs]
How in the name of sweet St. Peter
am I supposed to say this garbage?
Ask the director, Gary.
He seems to have all the answers.
Mr. Puzo thinks of us as talking furniture.
Well, I guess we'll have to fix it ourselves
like we always do.
Brenda, you fix this,
and I'm putting you up for an Emmy.
Gary, honey-- Excuse me.
Leo just called.
He says he has to talk to you right away.
Leo, huh?
Sounds expensive.
Leo's phone calls usually are.
Wait'll you see what our road company John Huston's
gonna do with our next scene...
aside from the obvious.
Not going well?
About the same as usual.
They even ran out of coffee.
Bert?
Problem, Bren?
Edie, sweetheart, move to your left a little.
Perhaps you could tell me what the dramatic values are
in this scene we're about to shoot.
It's about two pages long,
and we have to have it in the can by 4:00.
Which means we hit our marks and say our lines.
Charlie, what are you waiting for, a solar eclipse?
Let's get the show on the road.
Leo, I'm not interested in putting any more money
into them Mexican hamburger joints.
Look, Leo, I'm getting real tired of pouring
my paychecks down a rathole.
[chuckles] Well-well, that's just fine, old buddy,
but I sure don't feel rich!
I had more money in my jeans
when I was hauling furniture back in Richmond.
Look, Leo, I don't want to talk about it now.
Call me later.
Later, Leo!
Take it easy, hon.
Here's your tea.
Bloodsucker!
[chuckles] Ten percent to Leo, ten percent to my agent
never mind my personal manager, my lawyer, my publicist.
[chuckles]
And all out of a lousy 50,000 an episode.
I know, sweetheart.
It gets me too.
You're worth twice that.
Where would this show be without me?
[scoffs] It sure ain't the scripts.
And it sure ain't miss Brass Bottom.
[chuckles]
Diane, did you see the new script?
They're beefin ' up her part.
She's got 87 lines.
Eighty-seven! Almost as much as me.
Maybe something's goin' on.
Maybe they're trying to push me out.
Executive producer, 12:00 high.
Hey, Sid, welcome.
I just came from Dailies.
Do you call that stuff film?
Where were you yesterday-- your head, I mean?
Oh, come on, Sid--
No, you come on.
You're already a day behind schedule.
Do you know what that is in dollars?
Maybe if I was seeing Citizen Kane up on the screen--
Will you give me a break?
I got a blind cameraman, the gaffer's loaded by 10:00,
and kindly Dr. Steven Valiant
can't remember two sentences in a row!
Always got an excuse, huh, baby?
Hey listen, you think you can do any better?
It's all yours.
But I gotta tell you, Patterson's bad news.
I know he's the show, Sid, but you got to do something.
No, you got to do something.
Hey, I gotta call Kate Hollander over at the network.
I got a new series cooking.
Undercover Urchins.
Five little street kids: black, white, yellow.
You know, assorted colors.
But the neat thing is - get this -
they work for the cops,
solving crimes.
Sounds great.
Yeah, it's got good topspin.
If it goes, I'm gonna use you on it...
if you get Gary Patterson straightened out.
Okay? Huh? Okay?
Excuse me. Mr. Sharkey.
Hey, sweetheart, how's it goin'?
Lousy, thanks.
I want to talk to you about this new script.
Yeah, what about it?
Who writes this crap anyway?
And then she starts down the stairs
into the dark, damp basement.
The dark figure in the shadow steps forward,
but we only see his feet.
Yeah, yeah.
It's-it's-it's nice. It's very nice.
Listen, miss Yamada--
Very nice?
Well, it's even pretty good.
But it's not our kind of story.
Well, I'm sorry.
Honey, it's too original.
Our audience doesn't want to think about what's going on.
They tune in Danger Doctor to see something... familiar.
Hey, if it were up to me, I could maybe give it a shot.
Miss Fletcher was afraid this was gonna happen.
Fletcher, what's she got to do with this?
Well, this new story, it's-it's really her idea.
Well, you see, I went to see her.
You saw J.B. Fletcher?
What for?
Well, to tell her.
To-to tell her what,
that we're ripping off one of her stories?
Oh, beautiful.
Honey, I can see that you've got a real future
in this business.
Listen, we'll be talking to your agent.
Look, I'm sorry, Mr. Stone.
But-- But in good conscience, I--
Yeah. Honey, do yourself a favor.
That conscience of yours?
Lose it.
Thanks for stopping by.
And my name is Gayle.
Gayle, calm down.
I'll handle this.
Look, the network has been negotiating
for the rights on one of my books
for a miniseries.
Oh, yes, there is definitely something that I can do
about Mr. Stone and Mr. Sharkey.
Miss Hollander's office.
I'm sorry, she's on another line.
May I take a message?
Oh, yes, Mr. Bernstein.
I have you on the list.
Yes, three times.
I've told her.
Yes, sir. I'll tell her again.
Good afternoon.
Hello. I'm Jessica Fletcher.
I have an appointment.
Oh, yes, Mrs. Fletcher.
Miss Hollander's tied up at the moment,
but the moment she's free, I'll tell her you're here.
-Please have a seat. -Thank you.
That sounds a lot like a threat, Sidney.
Kate, this is Sid Sharkey.
Right.
Kate, we're talking high concept here.
Orphaned kids of the street facing danger every minute
to uphold the American way of life.
Sid, you're talking the dead-end-kids-meet-mod-squad .
It's as stale as a week-old bagel.
Kate, I don't think that you remember
that you're talking to the man who's responsible
for one of your few hits.
Wrong, Sidney.
They tune in to see Gary and Brenda.
Besides, Avery Stone is twice the producer you are.
You've been in on a pass since day one.
Well, I'm sorry to hear you say that, Katie.
When the boys in New York
start getting nervous about next year's schedule,
I hope it doesn't come down to a choice between you and me!
Have a nice day!
[buzzer buzzes]
Yes?
Mrs. Fletcher to see you, miss Hollander.
Oh, yes.
Have her come in.
I mean, I'm-I'm hurt and bewildered
and a little angry, miss Hollander,
that this kind of, well, outright theft
could be permitted.
I can assure you, Mrs. Fletcher,
that this sort of behavior is not condoned here...
certainly not by me.
Well, I was sure that it wasn't.
And while I have not read your new book,
I'm sure it's delightful.
I've been a fan of yours for so many years.
Oh, thank you.
Which is why I've been fighting so hard to do
that earlier book of yours as a miniseries.
-Murder at the Asylum?
I loved every page.
Oh, dear, I must be confused.
I think that we're negotiating Calvin Canterbury's Revenge.
Yes, of course we are.
And that one was even better.
-Mrs. Fletcher. -Jessica.
Believe me, I'm going to deal with Sid Sharkey
in the strongest possible terms.
You have my word.
He will no longer be a bother to you.
Thank you.
I feel very relieved, miss Hollander.
Good-bye.
What the hell is this "get in here now"?
The last time I looked, we were partners!
Right. Sixty 40, and I'm the 60.
What's going on between you and Kate Hollander?
What?
You been sucking up to her behind my back?
Of course not.
Buddy boy, I can feel the knife
between my shoulder blades.
All of a sudden, you're the fair-haired boy.
You, who couldn't even get arrested
in this town a couple of years ago.
You, with so many bombs on your resume,
you could stock your own arsenal.
Hey, I don't have to take this.
You don't make that show go.
I do. Me!
Oh, come on, Sid.
You don't even know which end of the camera the film goes in.
You think I can't run this series?
Well, buddy boy, you've never been more wrong.
You're through.
Oh, no. We got a contract.
Talk to my lawyer.
-Get out! -No, no.
You're gonna be talking to my lawyer!
You want me out of here, Sid?
Fine.
I'll be able to retire ten times over
on what I'm gonna get out of you.
And meantime, I'm gonna keep on working.
And if you want me out, buddy boy,
you're gonna have to throw me out!
[buzzer buzzes]
What?
The director called, Mr. Sharkey.
Gary Patterson just walked off the set.
Well, what do they want me to do about it?
You're the director! You handle it!
Sid! Wait a minute!
What do you want me to do,
threaten him with suspension or replacement?
It's your responsibility!
Get serious, will ya?
Look, if you want that narcissistic egomaniac
on the set, you're gonna have to get him yourself.
I don't talk to actors.
Schmooze him.
Give him anything, promise him anything.
Just get him back to work.
Because if you don't,
I'm yanking you off the picture.
Do that!
Come here a minute.
Remember a couple of years ago when I found you
in that motel room in Tijuana, your brain half-fried
from that stuff you were putting up your nose?
Do you remember who kept his mouth shut
and gave you your first shot when you got out?
I never said I wasn't grateful.
Then do me a favor,
get Patterson back to work.
Now, you understand what I'm saying to you.
Sid...
I'm in kind of a hurry, baby.
...a week ago I asked you
to write me out of the next three shows.
I can't do that.
Buddy Perlman wants me for his new feature.
Now, Sid, this is a real break.
But my agent has to know today.
What do I have to do, beg?
Sweetheart, listen to me.
Forget features. Forget Perlman.
You're a TV star making big bucks.
I'm warning you, I'll walk.
You do, and you'll be slingin' hash
at Dinty Moore's the rest of your life.
We've got a contract, you and me, remember?
Now it may be a trap, but it's lined with mink,
so like they say, lay back and enjoy it.
Excuse me, I'm looking for Mr. Sharkey.
Oh, I'm sorry. He's not here.
Well, I'm Jessica Fletcher, and I--
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.
I'm Freida Schmidt.
-I'm Mr. Sharkey's secretary. -How do you do?
I have your message for Mr. Sharkey right here.
I'm sure he'll return your call as soon as possible.
Yes, well, I have a great deal to say to him,
and given a choice, I'd rather say it in person.
Uh-huh.
[phone ringing]
Mr. Sharkey's office.
Oh, Mr. Perlman.
Lunch tomorrow.
The polo lounge at 1:00.
I'll see that he gets the message.
Almost 7:00.
Time to call it a day.
Yes. Well, I wonder--
May I use your phone to call a cab?
Well, where are you staying?
I'll be glad to drop you.
Oh, no, I couldn't bother you.
Nonsense, I'd be delighted.
Well, thank you. That's very kind indeed.
Nothing waiting for me at home except an antisocial cat
and a TV dinner.
[door closes]
Good evening, Mr. Stone.
Good evening, Carmen.
Another late night, sir?
[door closes]
[footsteps]
Sounds like I'm not the only one.
Now, that's strange.
I thought that you were the last person still here.
[elevator bell dings]
Avery! Hey, fellow, listen.
I'm sorry about that little blowup this afternoon.
You always are, Sid, sooner or later.
No hard feelings?
No more than usual.
Listen, big guy.
The company's down on stage 44.
They're moving slower than a three-legged turtle.
Puzo's in his trailer with another anxiety attack.
You hired him, Sid!
Yeah, well, this time he's through.
You find out whoever's available,
'cause we're gonna dump him in the morning.
Carmen, ever consider becoming a highly paid producer?
-No. -Don't.
[explosion]
[sirens wailing]
[people chattering]
[sirens]
Jessica Fletcher.
Lieutenant Bradshaw, please.
Mr. Stone's office.
End of the corridor, turn left.
-Thank you. -You're welcome.
They broke for a meal 30 minutes ago.
Gayle?
Mrs. Fletcher, what are you doing here?
I was summoned here.
But what in the world is going on?
Sid Sharkey's dead.
Something about a bomb.
That's all I know.
Oh, Lord.
Have a seat.
[sobbing]
I may need you later.
Just who are you?
Jessica Fletcher. And you?
Take a seat inside.
Excuse me, lieutenant, may I ask why--
Just where in the hell is this Hollander woman?
We called her an hour ago.
Lieutenant, I don't think
that we're gonna be able to get her.
I want her here in five minutes.
If she's not here, send the car and bring her.
Sir, the head of the studio says that she's a very influential--
I couldn't care if she was the queen of Hollywood.
I want her here now.
If you please, ma'am.
[sobbing]
[clears throat]
Oh, you may sit down.
Why, thank you, lieutenant...
Bradshaw.
Where have you been for these
past three hours, Mrs. Fletcher?
And can you prove it?
Now just one moment, lieutenant Bradshaw.
I am here of my own free will.
For what reason, I have no idea.
And before I answer any of your questions,
I'd like to know why I was summoned
so abruptly to this studio.
Shortly before 9:00,
Sidney Sharkey was blown to his reward
by a sizable amount of dynamite,
the said explosive being hidden in what we believe to be
a package wrapped in pink, feminine wrapping paper.
Now, shortly before the explosion,
a woman's footsteps were heard in the vicinity of his office.
Yeah, but what's that got to do with me?
I mean, I was never involved with Mr. Sharkey.
I don't even know him.
You see, I am a writer-- a novelist.
Oh, I know who you are.
I even read a few of your books a few years back.
Frankly, it was a waste of my time.
Well, thank you.
You called the guy you didn't know,
said you had to speak to him on an urgent matter.
Yeah, well, I can explain that.
Now, true or not:
Sharkey was going to steal your plotline
of your latest book, wasn't he?
Yes, he was trying to steal it,
but, my goodness, that was no reason for me
to resort to murder to stop him.
No?
You came to see him around 7:00.
Yes, and I left at 7:10.
The guard checked you in and never checked you out.
Because his secretary and I left by the back staircase.
It was a quicker way to get to her car.
But you could've come back later the same way.
That's ridiculous.
Oh, we'll see.
I'm not involved, Mrs. Fletcher.
I did not leave that package.
Well, don't take it personally.
Lieutenant Bradshaw seems to be accusing every woman in sight,
including me.
But I had no alibi.
I mean, I was at my apartment from about 4:00,
writing until about 10:30,
when this policeman came to my door
to take me to the studio.
And you were alone?
Except for my canary.
Mrs. Fletcher,
I haven't been here in Hollywoodland for very long,
but one thing I have learned:
protect your fanny at all costs.
I mean, this creep Bradshaw is out to make brownie points
by solving this murder.
Well, that was my impression precisely.
By the way, do you have an alibi for 8:45?
I was soaking in a hot tub.
Anyone with you?
Thank you.
I know that... [clears throat]
...Sid would have appreciated this--
this moment of respect.
As some of you already know, we will be dedicating
the remainder of this season to his memory.
Okay, folks, back to work now.
Bert.
I don't want any repeat of last night.
What are you talking about?
I am paying you to direct the picture,
not your assistant.
I understand that you went off to your trailer
a half-hour before dinner break.
I wasn't feeling well, Avery.
I had the shakes. I nearly passed out.
Working for Sid will do that to you.
Well, you're working for me now.
What's past is past.
So deliver me a picture, okay?
You got it.
Mr. Stone.
-Mrs. Fletcher, isn't it? -Yes.
I'm-- I'm terribly sorry
you had to get involved in all this.
Yes--
Say, you know that story
that you worked out with miss Yamada?
Personally, I loved it.
But Sid--
well, Sid never did have much taste.
So nice to meet you.
Mr. Stone, I wonder if I could
bother you for a few minutes.
I need to talk to you about last night.
Sorry, I don't know anything about last night.
Oh, yes, of course.
You left just before the explosion.
I'm just lucky I wasn't in the same room with him
when the bomb went off.
Yes. I suppose now that Mr. Sharkey's dead,
you'll be in charge.
Look, Mrs. Fletcher,
whatever's going on here is none of your concern.
Furthermore, you have no business being on this set,
or on the studio grounds, for that matter.
And I'd very much appreciate it if you'd leave.
Mrs. Fletcher, excuse me.
-I'm Diane Crane. -Oh, yes.
I'm a close personal friend of the star, Gary Patterson.
He's in his dressing room now,
and he would really adore to meet you.
-Oh. -Please.
Well, now. Whoa!
[laughing] This gal's not only a brain,
she's a mighty powerful armful too.
Well, it's a pleasure to meet you, ma'am.
Well, it's mutual, Mr. Patterson.
You know, I just love your movies.
Movies?
Hell, I haven't had a movie in nine years.
Please, sit down. Thank you.
No, sir.
I don't care to.
Television, that's where it's at.
Reaching tens of millions of people,
week in and week out.
Yeah-- Oh, and please, call me Gary.
-[knocking] -Yes?
We're ready for you on the set there, Mr. Patterson.
Is Sarah Bernhardt out of her motor home yet?
I'm not sure, sir.
Well, son, you come back when you are sure.
Okay.
Well, now, Jessica...
[chuckles]
...if you watch television, I'm sure you know
that good writers are scarcer than snowballs in Tallahassee.
[laughs]
Which is why I am prepared
to make you a million-dollar proposition.
What?
Oh, no, really--
Now hear me out, little lady.
I'm not talking about just writing an episode.
No, ma'am. Mm-mmm.
I want you to ramrod the scripts--
all of'em.
[chuckling] But I don't know anything
about writing for television.
What's to know?
"He said," "she said," blah, blah, blah.
I was here last night from 8:30 to 9:30
just trying to make sense of my next scene.
Oh, you were here alone?
Yes-- Well, no.
I mean, well, me and the little lady--
Gary likes to bounce his ideas off of me.
-[knocking] -Yes?
Oh, Gary, excuse me.
So sorry to bust in.
Mrs. Fletcher, I believe I asked you politely
to leave the lot.
She is talking to me, Stone.
Oh, fine.
But, uh, when she's finished,
I would like to have her escorted out the main gate.
Mr. Stone, I'm afraid that that presents
something of a problem.
You see, Mr. Patterson has offered me a job
developing scripts for the show,
and I've decided to accept.
I'm so sorry we couldn't get you something better,
but... they give all the really good offices
to the movie people.
Ah, I think this is lovely.
Oh, you should see what the genius
in the corner office has.
His last two pictures lost 30 million bucks.
His fridge is stuffed with Beluga caviar.
[chuckling]
Us, they send beer nuts.
Well, anything you need, I'll be right outside.
Just buzz.
Freida, I haven't had an opportunity
to extend my condolences.
I understand you were with Mr. Sharkey for 15 years.
Seventeen.
Even before he was the Hollywood wunderkind.
You know, everything that man touched
turned into a 40 share.
Everything, and then, poof.
Well, you must have been very close.
Actually, I hated the warthog.
You know, I didn't start out as a secretary.
Oh, yes.
Nah, nah, nah, nothing like that.
I was his assistant.
I was supposed to get a shot at producing.
[chuckles] At least that's what he promised me.
But he always found an excuse to keep me at the file drawer.
By the time I realized what a louse he was,
it was too late.
He paid me so much, I had to stay.
You know, Freida,
that package wasn't on the desk at 7:00.
Somebody must have put it there after we left.
Oh, sure.
The woman, the one whose footsteps they heard.
Probably.
Still, is there anything that happened that day,
anything that you can remember that was out of the ordinary?
It was the same old stuff.
I mean, Sid was aggravating people right and left.
You know, there is something I did notice.
What was that?
I got a quick look inside his office
right after the explosion, just before they sealed it up,
and one of the file drawers was open.
Now, I would never have left it open like that, ever.
Was there anything special in that particular file drawer?
Mm-hmm, all his personal files.
Correspondence, contracts, that sort of thing.
Freida, is it possible you could invent a reason
to look in that drawer?
Sure, why not?
Good.
Let me know what you find or don't find.
Meanwhile, I'm going to have a chat with Mr. Avery Stone.
Come on, Chuck.
You tired of the show, or what?
Lay off, Avery. I approved the set.
It looks great.
Since when are you an expert?
That sloping ceiling--
That looks good?
You think we're casting midgets here?
Eighty-six the ceiling, Chuck.
And the wallpaper and the windows.
Dump it.
And I want a new set of plans on my desk by 6:00.
Okay, boys? Okay.
-Oh-- -Sorry.
Mrs. Fletcher, we keep bumping into each other.
Yes.
How's your new office?
Oh, just fine, thank you.
Great. You know, it's really terrific
having you on the show.
I can't tell you how long I've been trying
to get the network people to do new ideas,
fresh, original story lines.
Well, I'm just beginning to grasp
what an enormous responsibility I have.
I mean, trying to please everyone.
Oh, poor Mr. Sharkey.
No wonder everyone was sniping at him.
You know, I had no idea
how universally disliked he was.
Yeah.
His passing has left a real void in my life.
Oh, yes. I'm sure.
But I'm not sure that Kate Hollander,
our lady at the network,
shares the same sense of loss.
The Iron Nightingale?
[chuckles]
She hated Sid.
You know why? Because she needed him.
He talked her into putting Danger Doctor on the air.
She thought the show was garbage.
Of course, once it was a hit,
she started taking bows all over town.
[pager beeps]
Another crisis.
I have to get to a phone.
-Excuse me. -Oh.
Oh. You know that new story of miss Yamada's?
Put it into work right away.
It's clever, original, and who knows?
It might even make a good episode.
[tires squeal]
[horn honking]
Jessica.
Thank heavens I found you.
Diane, what is it, what's the matter?
I've been looking all over for you.
It's this latest script.
Gary absolutely hates it.
I'm sorry. I haven't had a chance--
Gary would never dream of asking you himself,
but if you could just see your way
to do some polish on it.
But I'm not a screenwriter.
I mean...
Well, Gary has some wonderful ideas.
If you could sit down with him for just a few minutes...
No, really.
Writing a script is Avery Stone's job.
That hack?
He has not had an original idea in his whole life.
Jessica, please.
I really don't want to disappoint Gary.
He's having such a rough time lately.
Diane, how long have you been doing this?
Doing what?
Running interference for Mr. Patterson.
I mean, I love that act.
You know, that folksy, warm, down-home character.
But that's really all it is, isn't it?
It's just an act.
No.
And as long as he's got you to do his dirty work for him,
he can maintain that image.
Isn't that right?
He wants everybody to love him.
Inside, he's just a scared little boy.
I guess that comes with being a star.
And did Mr. Sharkey love him?
Maybe I should turn that question around.
How did he feel about Sid Sharkey?
Gary didn't kill him.
I didn't ask you that.
Gary was in his dressing room during the supper break,
the entire time.
I'll swear to it.
And will he swear
that you were there with him the entire time?
Oh, Diane.
Even a blind man can see
that you two were lying earlier.
I did leave the dressing room for a short time.
He needed some medicine from home.
I left by the back gate.
Our house isn't very far from here.
I wasn't gone long, really.
When we learned that they had heard
a woman's footsteps in the corridor
shortly before the explosion,
well, we just decided to keep quiet.
Do you think we did the wrong thing?
I think that you should tell lieutenant Bradshaw the truth.
He's a bulldog, but he's fair.
And until he has all the facts,
I don't think he'll make any wild accusations.
You did it, honey.
[shutter clicking] You killed the guy,
and I'm this far from proving it.
That's a slanderous accusation, lieutenant.
That's all right. I can handle this, Leon.
Oh, you say you have no alibi
after 8:00 p.m. the night of the murder.
Nor do I need one.
Why would she kill him?
They were close.
In fact, miss Hollander was on the verge
of buying a new series from the man.
Make sure you get that in the story.
Could we stop worrying about publicity here?
Miss Hollander is being interrogated
in connection with a murder.
Which just happens to be front-page stuff.
Look, we know she's not guilty.
You know it, but I don't.
Oh, lieutenant.
I told you you were wasting your time
when you walked in here.
Obviously this is just a fishing expedition.
[laughs]
Or maybe the lieutenant is looking for a little press
of his own with this unwarranted interrogation.
Miss Hollander, did you or did you not
tell Mrs. J. B. Fletcher -
and I have a direct quote -
"I'm going to deal with Sid Sharkey
in the strongest possible terms"?
Oh, for heaven's sake.
"You have my word he will no longer be a problem."
It was just an expression.
Sounds more like a threat to me.
[phone rings]
-This is a total waste of time. -Hello?
Look, miss Hollander is trying
to cooperate, lieutenant.
Then have her tell me where she was between 8:00 and 10:30
the night Sharkey was killed!
I was in bed, reading scripts.
Terrific.
My secretary was in the bed too -
taking notes.
Don't write that down.
That was USA today.
They want to do a three-column layout on you
in Thursday's edition.
Work it out.
Now, where were we?
I believe we were discussing dictation.
-Hello, Gayle. -Mrs. Fletcher.
Oh. Are you really sure that you want to be in this business?
I'm really beginning to wonder.
What have we got here?
CAA? ICM? APA?
These sound like some sort of ballistic missiles.
-Agents. [chuckles] -Oh.
News of your new job traveled fast.
They're calling with their congratulations
and their client lists--
not necessarily in that order.
I gather that, uh, you've, uh,
heard from Mr. Stone about our story.
Yes.
And I don't want you to think that I'm ungrateful,
but, well, maybe we just have so many words in us,
and I'm not sure that I want to waste any of mine
on fearless Steve Valiant, MD.
Well, you won't get any argument from me.
Well, the fact is, I've got 40 pages of a novel
in my desk drawer,
and, well, although I know
it means starvation for a while,
l-I'd like to give it another try.
Good for you.
And when you think you're ready to have it read,
I'd be glad to look at it.
-Would you? -Of course.
[chuckles]
Oh, that's just super.
And good luck.
Oh, thanks, Mrs. Fletcher.
Thanks.
Hi.
Well, what about that file drawer?
Did you manage to get a look?
I sure did.
And one piece of paper is conspicuously absent:
Brenda Blake's personal services contract
with Sid Sharkey.
You've stitched your last sutures, Doc.
You won't shoot me.
You haven't the guts.
Steve--
-Cut! -[buzzer buzzes]
Okay, Mario.
Bring in the stunt people, please.
Stunt people now, please.
Miss Blake, we have to talk right away.
Look, I'm in the next shot.
Hey, is this-- Is this about my movie?
No, it's about your contract--
the one that disappeared from the files
in Sid Sharkey's office.
I'm-- I'm sorry, I don't know what you're-
Mrs. Fletcher.
Lieutenant.
What are you doing here?
Maybe we came up with the same three cherries
on the slot machine,
but I've got the warrant.
Brenda Blake,
I'm placing you under arrest
for the murder of Sidney Sharkey.
I didn't kill him.
I mean, why would I?
You're an actress, sweetheart.
Buddy Perlman had offered you a big part in his movie.
Sharkey wouldn't let you out.
And for me, that's motive enough for murder.
Who says he wasn't going to let me out?
Ah!
The fact is, Bert Puzo told me
that Sid was having lunch with Perlman
the next day at the Polo Lounge.
Do you know what that says to me?
Sid was going to sell me off for a big price.
Oh, yes, your personal services contract.
Look, I couldn't have killed him.
During the dinner break,
I was lying down in my motor home the whole time.
Well, that's odd.
The assistant director came by the motor home
and knocked several times, but you did not answer.
Well, yes, I did hear the knock,
but I was dozing, so I just decided to ignore it.
I'm sorry, miss Blake, but I made that up.
What?
Well, you better start telling the truth, sweetheart.
I'm running out of patience with you.
Okay, okay.
I did leave my trailer, and I did go to Sid's office.
Now we're getting somewhere.
I had to get that contract away from him.
Do you know what it's like doing this dumb series,
grinding out sausage for two schlockmeisters
like Sharkey and Stone?
I-- I am an actress.
And it was your footsteps they heard in the corridor
shortly before 9:00.
And what about the package?
The one wrapped in the pink paper?
Did you see that on the desk?
I don't know...
Wait a minute-- Yes.
Yes, I did see it.
Oh, great.
That means anyone could have left it there earlier.
Not just anyone.
Someone specific.
You know who?
I have a good idea.
Freida, how late is the company working tonight?
Till about midnight.
Mrs. Fletcher,
if you've got an idea, let's hear it.
Freida, would you come in, please?
Look, I don't know how legal this is
or if it'll work.
But without any real proof,
it may be the only chance we have to catch the killer.
[indistinct chatter]
Bert?
What do you say, Freida?
I've been waiting all day to talk to you, Bert.
You were there last night in Sid's office.
Must've been when you were supposed to be in your trailer
having that anxiety attack.
What is this, a joke?
You had to be there.
You told Brenda about that luncheon engagement
with Buddy Perlman at the Polo Lounge.
How'd you know about that, Bert?
The call came in at 7:00.
I put it on the calendar.
You couldn't have known about it
unless you saw his calendar
when you put the bomb on his desk.
[laughing]
You're crazy.
Look, I'm not going to the police.
Well, not yet.
Well, Sid's dead.
I need a place to land...
somewhere secure.
Oh, I'm not greedy, Bert.
You'll find I'm a very agreeable partner.
Freida, I need these notes typed up right away.
[sighs]
Mr. Stone, it's almost 8:00.
These'll take a couple of hours.
We all have to do our bit, Freida.
Terrific.
Sure thing, Mr. Stone.
Pleasure.
We'll talk later, Bert.
[footsteps approaching]
[gasps]
Sorry, didn't mean to scare you.
Lieutenant?
Sorry, sir.
Well, nice idea while it lasted,
but he never bit.
They broke for a meal 30 minutes ago.
Puzo left the set only once,
to put his briefcase in the trunk of his car.
And then he joined the others for supper.
His trunk?
I saw him go to his car this morning.
He doesn't have a trunk.
What kind of a car was that, sergeant,
and where was it parked?
Well, Anne, I guess you can file this one away.
Case closed.
Cut! That's a wrap, folks.
[buzzer buzzes]
Uh, Mr. Puzo?
I know it's late, but I have to talk to you.
You're right, Mrs. Fletcher.
It is late.
Can't this wait?
No, it can't.
What do you mean, strange?
Freida is a rock.
You're wrong.
Oh, no, no, I'm sorry.
There's something wrong.
I mean, she's been in such a strange mood,
and when I mentioned your name--
Mrs. Fletcher.
I told you to mind your own business.
Freida, you crazy?
Yes. Crazy to have ever trusted you.
Now move, both of you.
Oh, now wait just a minute-
I said move.
Before I hurt somebody.
Oh, dear Lord.
Look, I don't know what you think you're doing--
Oh, I'm taking you to the police, Bert.
And at this point, I don't very much care
whether I drag you in alive or dead.
Now start walking.
My car's just around the corner.
I think we should do as she asks.
Puzo, get behind the wheel.
No.
Please, Mr. Puzo.
I think she means it.
Freida, you're insane.
[chuckling] Maybe I am.
Get in.
In-- and shut the door.
Let's go.
Freida, for God's sake...
Start up the engine.
Well, then I'll do it.
No!
We've already removed the bomb you planted
from the car, Mr. Puzo.
We didn't want to see any more people get blown up.
Well, Mrs. Fletcher, I--
I guess I ought to say thanks.
You may not be much of a writer,
but you'd make one hell of a cop.
[chuckling] Well, I'll take that
in the spirit in which it was intended.
I think.
Can I give you a lift somewhere?
Oh, thanks, no.
I'm gonna to say good-bye to Diane and Gary.
And actually, I'm resigning.
Now, don't get talked into anything.
Absolutely not.
Jessica!
Jessica, thank God I've caught you!
Hello, miss Hollander.
You cannot leave until we've talked.
If it's about the miniseries,
would you take it up with my agent?
Forget the mini. I've got a much better idea.
-Oh? -A weekly series:
The Jessica Fletcher Mystery Hour.
What?
The real-life adventures
of a crime-busting mystery writer.
No, no, no, no.
Oh, yes, yes.
It'll be sensational.
New, different, original, but familiar.
Miss Hollander, I don't write gunfights,
car chases or bedroom scenes, so who would watch?
I'm sorry, but that is absolutely the worst idea
I have ever heard.