[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.
You're the only writer who hits a home run every time at bat.
-Safe! Are you blind? -He's out!
You're fired!
Haven't you noticed anything strange
-about uncle Edward? -That sounds ominous.
As a shrink, I'm rarely surprised at anything people do.
Your book is perfect. I wouldn't change a comma.
This time, you failed. I'm suspending publication indefinitely
so you can try again with a page-one rewrite.
Do you know anything about manic-depressives?
It was lousy for Graham to fire you in public.
And I don't even like you that much.
Did it cloud your judgment?
There's someone in the house.
9-1-1.
[wind whistling]
[Woman] [echoing] I'm so lonely without you, Ed.
I miss you so very much.
Please come to me, Edward.
We can spend eternity together.
Beth?
Come to me. Please come to me.
[thunder] Oh!
[dialing]
[line rings]
[Woman] You have reached Dr. Santana's office.
Dr. Santana is not in the office at this time.
Our regular business hours are 9:00 to 5:00 weekdays
and 9:00 to 12:00...
Mr. Graham asked me to apologize for being late.
He just called on his car phone.
He was five minutes away.
I hope he wasn't up all night
working on the notes for my manuscript.
Oh, no, he made most of his notes in the office
before he left yesterday.
Most of his notes? That sounds ominous.
-Please have a seat. -Thank you.
Can I get you a cup of coffee?
No, no, thank you.
-Good morning, Jessica. -Good morning, Edward.
That's my niece Lori, daughter of my half-brother Charles.
-She's lovely. -And a dear.
I'd lost track of Charles
until someone from the family called me
to tell me he died of some lingering disease in Oregon.
I didn't know he had a daughter
until she wrote me a lovely letter after Beth died.
She's very bright. I'm grooming her to become an editor.
She's here?
I talked her into moving to Manhattan three months ago,
got her a job as Steve Di Napoli's assistant.
I'll introduce you. But first, we have work to do.
Well, I think I've addressed
all of the changes that we've discussed.
Jessica, I love the changes.
Well, I hope you'll be as charitable
with the rest of your notes.
What notes? I don't have any.
Your book is perfect.
I wouldn't change a comma.
It'll be a runaway bestseller,
make you the darling of every critic.
-Here, catch! -Oh!
I should sign you up for our softball team.
[knock on door] Come in, Donna.
It's almost time for your next appointment, Mr. Graham.
Oh, right. Where does the time go?
Well, I hate to edit and run, Jessica.
Well, listen, if you have any second thoughts at all...
Impossible. My decisions are etched in granite.
In that case, that'll give me plenty of time
to drop by the library before my 2:00 with Carrie Benton.
She helped me with some last-minute research.
You'll find her in a new office right over there.
-Oh, since when ? -Since I asked Ted Hartley
to promote her to children's books editor.
Oh, what a nice break for Carrie.
Mm-hmm.
Well, I think you're an incredible writer, Arnold.
It's just the plot of your second book
about the rollerskating pig
was exactly the same as the first.
You're underestimating your audience.
[chattering]
It's just that three-year-olds
are a lot more discerning than they used to be.
All right, just think about it. OK?
Bye.
[laughs]
You are a terrible person.
Mmm.
I will take... chocolate.
Good choice.
A pig on roller skates, huh?
Hey, come on. That's very cute.
Mmm. That's terrific.
Tell me something.
You used to bring me donuts almost every day.
-Why'd you stop? -You started seeing Ed Graham.
I decided my love offerings weren't working.
Is that what this is?
Eat. It's a fantasy, not a commitment.
[laughs]
Hate fantasies, love commitments.
Hello, Steve.
Ed...I know what this looks like.
But I swear I'm not trying to fatten up your girlfriend.
Ha ha! Ohh...
Edward is not amused... even though he should be.
I've seen funnier losers on Star Search.
Steve brought me donuts for a party
to celebrate my promotion.
What a keen idea!
My invitation must've gotten lost in the mail.
Or is this an intimate party?
OK. I think I'll go to the park
and hit some fungoes before the game.
-So long, sports fans. -Steve!
I cannot believe that you were so rude to one of my friends.
I've evidently misjudged the level of your taste.
Why are you behaving like this?
Are you criticizing my behavior?
I'd better get right over to my doctor
and tell him about it.
Good-bye, dear heart.
[muttering] Last night was bad,
worse than before.
Edward, speak up. I can barely hear you.
When I woke up,
there was a moment where I couldn't remember where I was
or how I got there. My own bed, for god's sake!
What else do you remember?
Nothing. It's all gone.
You said it was a bad night. What made it bad?
I told you, I don't remember!
You're censoring your thoughts, Edward.
Was it something you saw?
It was the same horrible nightmare.
I was alone...
surrounded by misty shadows at...
At the edge of an abyss as black as hell.
I could see Beth.
Her voice was barely a whisper.
Go ahead.
She was pleading...
"come to me.
Come to me."
I wanted to.
I wanted to be with Beth again,
but I knew if I did, I would just cross over into hell.
That fear is what always wakes me up.
What are you looking at?
A man who's in need of help.
Carrie, this is the most thorough research that I have ever read.
I'm going to have to correct my manuscript
before somebody else discovers that some of my facts are fiction.
[laughs]
Jessica, you knew Edward's wife, didn't you?
Oh, yes, yes.
I introduced her to Edward
when he worked for my former publisher.
They had a wonderful marriage.
I gather that isn't just an idle question.
Um, Edward and I have been seeing each other.
But he's never taken me to his house in Connecticut.
He's always got some excuse.
What is it about that house?
Well, when Beth became ill,
Edward took a leave of absence,
and he remained with her day and night in that house,
and she died in his arms.
I know he was devastated.
But he came right back to work
and tried to overcome his grief
by working too hard to think about it.
I urged him to consult a therapist.
He took your advice.
I just don't know how much good it's doing.
[knock on door]
Carrie?
I beg your pardon.
I'm looking for Graham.
His secretary seems to be on an extended coffee break.
Jessica, you know Leonard ambler, the company controller?
Oh, yes, of course. Ted introduced us
when I signed my contract.
He told her I was the one to yell at if her checks were late.
Carrie, do you have any idea where Graham might be?
He had a doctor's appointment.
He usually confines his appointments to late afternoon.
I know, but he wanted to go early today
because of the softball game.
My mistake. I keep thinking this is a business office.
That reminds me... I've got to get changed for the game.
Oh, I didn't realize you were on the team.
Oh, well, how do you think I got my promotion?
I am the best hitter in the league,
and Edward's the team coach.
Why don't you come down to Central Park and watch us play?
If we win today, we'll be in the playoffs
for the league championship.
It's tempting.
But I've really got too much to do.
Jessica, you ready for the ballgame?
Sorry, not today.
Oh, come on! You could keep Lori company.
Lori Graham! I'm Jessica Fletcher.
I saw your photograph in your uncle's office.
My uncle said you were a good friend.
He couldn't have found you at a better time.
Mrs. Fletcher, you would know...
Haven't you noticed anything strange
about uncle Edward lately?
Hey, shortstop! Let's move it!
Meet me down in front. I'll get us a cab.
Strange? In what way?
I don't know. Sort of like he's up and down
almost in the same breath.
You know, on second thought,
I think I will go with you to the game.
Good! I'll buy the hot dogs.
Play ball.
[cheering]
Edward told you that he heard voices?
Just one. Aunt Beth's.
[all] Oh!
Come on, Steve.
Come on, come on, come on.
Strike!
Hit one for me, Steve!
Give us a break, kid. Give us a break.
[cheering]
Wow!
-Strike! -That was way high!
Come on! Keep your eye on the ball!
Come on!
[cheering] Go! Go!
He's out!
What do you mean, he's out?
He's out! Tagged at the bag
-After he hit the plate! -He's still out!
Hold it! Hold it!
I just can't believe you didn't see that!
Hold it! Hold it!
You're out of here!
Eddie, Eddie! He's right!
The catcher tagged me before I touched home plate.
What are you, a traitor? Get out of here!
Out of the game, and out of the company!
You're fired!
I have real problems with your book, Jessica.
Oh, dear. Does that mean I won't be the critics' darling?
I'm serious.
Yes. Yes, I think you are.
I don't understand. I thought you liked it.
That was before I reread it.
Your book is a major disappointment.
It's badly flawed.
Edward, I would be very grateful
if you would point out the flaws.
Here's the short list.
Your characters lack dimension,
your detective is a major wimp
who solves the case 100 pages after your dumbest readers,
and your spine-tingling suspense put me to sleep.
It's very badly done.
Well, if it is, we did it badly together.
I wrote, and you edited.
I followed your comments almost verbatim
and, for the most part, I agreed with them.
Edward, what is going on here?
Yesterday, you were full of praise
and enthusiasm for the book,
and now you're completely negative.
Let's be honest. This time, you failed.
I'm suspending publication indefinitely
so you can try again with a page-one rewrite.
Now, would you like to hear all my notes?
You can't walk out on me, Jessica!
Edward, I have to think this through.
You've already lost one editor.
It would be a shame to lose an author... and a friend.
I'm telling you Ed Graham is cracking up.
OK, so he overreacted.
-Overreacted? -And now you're overreacting.
I'm here to clean out my desk and say good-bye.
Doesn't that tell you something?
You could've kept your mouth shut.
Ohh, you're never gonna believe this,
but I predicted you'd say that.
-I wrote it down and it's in my pocket. -Stop it.
Maybe I should've let him beat up the umpire, too.
Was that nutty or what?
Absolutely insane... and I never said that.
Leonard.
I heard a rumor you were in the building.
You want me to sign my dismissal papers
in triplicate for your files?
Your papers haven't come through yet.
Strictly off the record, I think it was lousy
for Graham to fire you in public.
And I don't even like you that much.
Does it mean anything to anyone that Steve has a contract?
No. Mean anything to you, Leonard?
Not if Graham doesn't want you around.
He has more clout with Ted Hartley than anyone I know.
More coffee, Ted?
Oh, please.
Your cookies are absolutely sensational.
You really shouldn't have gone to all this trouble.
Well, actually, I cheated.
I found this absolutely fabulous bakery on Columbus Avenue.
Well, you know, Jess, you gave me the scare of my life.
I heard you walked out of that meeting with Edward Graham.
That's why I invited myself over here.
Well, I thought as much.
To put it bluntly,
right now, you're the only writer that we publish
who hits a triple or a home run every time at bat.
And I'd just hate like hell
for you to go away mad.
Listen, Ted, Edward and I
have been through a lot together.
He helped make bestsellers out of three of my books,
we made the move to your publishing house at the same time.
I couldn't ask for a better editor.
Then why did you walk out on him
and leave him with egg on his face?
Well, he upset me terribly.
Yesterday he said that my book was perfect.
Today he told me how much he hated it.
I read it, and I thought it was terrific.
So what's gotten into Edward?
Do you know anything about manic-depressives?
You're not suggesting that Edward...
It's just that recently he's developed
radical mood swings.
One minute, all is right with the world
and the possibilities are endless.
The next minute, everything is wrong
and the outlook is dismal.
Well, he's been seeing some shrink I never heard of.
[whirring]
There you go.
Just what the doctor ordered.
I can't drink any more of this filthy stuff.
You know it's an essential part of your treatment.
You haven't been listening.
The treatment's not working.
-I feel worse than ever! -Take it.
Looks like the bottom of a boat I once owned.
Then close your eyes. You know it makes you feel better.
I'm losing control, Jerry.
I can't seem to organize my thoughts.
One moment, something seems terribly important to me.
The next moment, I can remember what it was.
-That will pass. -So will we all.
That's not much of a comfort, either.
I'm wasting time.
I gotta get back to the office and work.
Cheers.
Edward...slow down. You work too hard.
That too shall pass.
[telephone rings]
[Beth] [echoing] Edward.
Edward!
Come to me.
We can spend eternity together.
Oh, Mr. Graham, I didn't know you were still here.
There's nobody up there.
Mr. Hartley and everybody else... They all went home.
Did you hear me, Sir? The upstairs offices are closed.
Aaaaah!
I'm sorry to get you all here so early.
I know you were all Mr. Graham's friends,
and I respect that.
But it's my job to investigate his suicide.
To do that properly, I need to know his frame of mind.
Mrs. Fletcher, not the best of ways
to renew an acquaintance, is it?
No, Lieutenant.
As I understand it, Mr. Graham behaved
in some sort of screwball fashion toward you.
He seemed driven by some inner demon.
That's the only way I can describe it.
Not to be personal or anything,
but could that have clouded your judgment about him?
Are you sure you just weren't smarting
because he was knocking your work?
Yes, Lieutenant. I'm positive.
Did any of you talk to him last night?
He, um... [clears throat]
He came to my office just as I was leaving.
It was around 7:00. He asked me to have dinner with him.
I said that I wanted to go home and change first,
he said that he had some things to do in his office
so he would meet me at the restaurant at 9:00.
When I got there, Arturo,
the maître d',
said that Edward had called,
that he was just leaving his office.
He had arranged...
to have my favorite flowers waiting on the table.
And he asked Arturo to open a bottle of my favorite wine.
And he never showed up.
Arturo was embarrassed for me, and I was furious.
I guess I didn't know.
I didn't know that Edward had...
Thank you, miss Benton. I know this is tough on you.
Her favorite flowers, her favorite wine,
the maître d's special attention.
Lieutenant, in your investigations,
have you ever heard of a man committing suicide
after planning such a romantic evening?
I can't say that I have.
But the night security guard saw him go up on the roof alone.
And then he jumped. I think that's all we need.
Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.
Mrs. Fletcher, please stay.
He left a note.
It was addressed to you.
I'm sorry.
I really can't imagine what drove him to it.
He was a jumper. That's what jumpers do.
Do they also initial farewell notes?
This is simply a memo
from an editor to a writer.
Yeah. Sure.
You want to tell me what he was right about?
Look, Mrs. Fletcher,
what we pulled off a few years ago,
that's in the past... Nailing Lieutenant Boyle.
But you stay out of this one, OK?
Lieutenant, Edward was a very dear friend of mine.
I'll do my very best.
Maybe this will come as a surprise, Mrs. Fletcher,
but remember the dinner in Connecticut where we met years ago?
Ha ha! I certainly do, Mr. Filbert.
Over one of Beth Graham's fabulous meals.
Somehow the talk suddenly turned to wills.
I was being lawyerly. It's a compulsion, I'm afraid.
Edward and Beth were both newlyweds
who hadn't yet made out their wills.
You may recall I pointed out the need
of an alternate executor, in case they both passed away.
Of course. And they chose me.
It seemed like a joke at the time. So long ago.
But you said yes, and here we are.
The strange part is,
after all the reading-of-the-will scenes I've written,
I'm still not quite clear about an executor's duties.
It's simple enough. We start with Edward's will.
Oh.
I see it's been updated with a codicil.
Containing the names and addresses of all the heirs.
They all live in the city,
except for his late wife's sister in Pittsburgh.
It's pretty routine, simple bequests.
Your job is to notify them by mail,
or however you like, and that's it.
The rest goes to charity.
And there's an insurance policy
his employers purchased for him.
The insurance company will take care of that.
So...how do you want to handle it?
I suppose I'll just send his sister-in-law a registered letter.
I can notify the others in person.
His suicide...
I was shocked. Had he been ill?
I'm not sure.
After my dad passed away,
I felt disconnected from the world,
until I found Uncle Edward.
He gave me a family again.
His death must've been a terrible shock.
It happened so fast.
It's like losing my dad all over again.
He went just as quickly when he had his heart attack.
Thank you for telling me about his will.
I didn't expect to be mentioned at all.
He must've left you his stereo and CDs
because they had some special meaning to you.
They do. He didn't like the kind of music I like.
He was always trying to develop my taste for modern jazz.
I'll think of him whenever I listen to Thelonious Monk.
[ticking]
This is a beautiful piece of workmanship.
It's a tribute to a watchmaker's skill
and to Edward's impeccable taste.
I'm overwhelmed, Mrs. Fletcher.
Well, he wanted you to have it.
It's touching. It's very touching.
It's always hard to lose a patient.
Especially to death.
Did he mention to you that he believed
his late wife spoke to him at night?
Hmm. Mrs. Fletcher, given your writings,
I'm sure you know that I can't violate the doctor/patient privilege.
Yes, of course. But if he was convinced
that his wife was speaking to him...
Well, it's not uncommon.
I consider it a harmless form of fantasizing,
a way of wishing his dead wife back into his marriage bed.
I don't consider it important or revealing in any way
of any underlying problem, if that's what you're driving at.
Heh.
Were you surprised when Mr. Graham committed suicide?
Hmm. As a psychiatrist,
I'm rarely surprised at anything people do.
Even your patients?
I understand that there is some thought
that it may not have been suicide.
Mrs. Fletcher, are you trying to push my buttons?
Oh, not at all. It's simply natural curiosity.
Now, here is something that I certainly never expected to see
in a psychiatrist's office.
A blender? Ha ha!
What an incredible collection of herbs.
Do you make your own salad dressing?
Heh heh. No, it's not sage, rosemary and thyme.
This is part of an ancient and newly emerging medical tradition.
Would you like to try my special blend?
Well...thanks.
But I better not today.
I really should be on my way.
Thank you again for delivering this...
token of Edward's faith in me.
I shall treasure it always.
Uh, there is just one thing.
Can you possibly tell me how Edward Graham
happened to become a patient of yours?
In a wink of a bat's eye.
With this magical device here.
[beeping]
Yes. It was a referral by one of my patients
who worked in the same publishing company...
Steven Di Napoli.
His entire collection?
Where in the world am I gonna put them?
Edward said you admired his books.
Oh, I did, all of them.
But you should see my bookshelves.
I don't have room for a postcard, forget about 400 books.
Well, I suppose the worst thing that could happen
would be that you could donate them
to the public library.
I guess I'll leave that option open.
Well...I wish Edward were here
to see the results of his faith in me.
Ladies and gentlemen, the first edition
of a soon-to-be-classic sequel to the original...
Pig on Roller Skates.
Ha ha! Congratulations, Carrie.
Thank you very much.
Oh, Steve, I spoke to Dr. Santana,
and he told me that you sent Edward to him.
Yes, it was just after his wife died.
Ed was trying to be stoical,
but he couldn't concentrate on his work.
He was close to falling apart,
I'd had some good luck with the guy.
I wanted to stop smoking,
but I couldn't break the habit.
A recovering nicotine addict
had turned me on to Santana.
His therapy was so boring that I gave up smoking
so I didn't have to go back to him anymore.
What was his treatment?
Oh, some really loathsome health drinks
and post-hypnotic suggestion.
Ah. Carrie, if you can get away from the office,
I'd love to ride with you up to Connecticut
and take a look at your house.
I don't have a house in Connecticut.
You do now.
I'll explain on the way.
Oh, Jessica, it's beautiful.
I'm finally here, but without Edward.
I'm sure he wanted to be here with you.
What are we looking for?
Well, I'm not sure.
Anything that might shed some light on what happened.
Ah. Dayton, Ohio postmark.
This must be Lori's letter...
The one she wrote him after Beth died.
Well, Edward was right.
It is a very sweet letter.
[electricity surges] Uh-oh.
Oh, great.
Wait. I think I saw a flashlight in here.
Yep.
Just come with me for a moment, Carrie.
I want to check something in the kitchen.
[thunder]
Ah. I thought so.
What's all that?
This is Dr. Santana's prescription.
I'd like to take some samples, if I can find a plastic bag.
Would you hold that?
Jessica, you think that the doctor may have drugged him?
Well, I think it's certainly worth considering,
even if the police don't.
I'm going to put a little in these plastic bags.
My god. Why would...
[creaking, door closes]
There's someone in the house.
9-1-1.
[clatter]
Jessica, it's dead.
Up on the roof.
He's coming.
[door closes]
I think they're gone.
He's hiding, waiting for us.
[car engine starts]
[tires screech, car drives off]
I'd love to come back and see the rest of the house,
preferably on a very sunny aft...
-Where are you going? -Upstairs.
I want to find out what was so interesting
to that visitor.
[thunder continues]
Beth and Edward's room.
It's wonderful. I expected to find it trashed.
What's that?
Smells like wood putty.
It's used for filling holes.
It's still soft and fresh.
[electricity surges]
And then there was light. Thank goodness.
Is that a bullet hole?
Well, it looks as if someone had drilled a hole here
and then tried to fill it with wood putty.
Why would someone drill a hole
and then plug it up right away?
Maybe it wasn't right away.
Maybe it was drilled before,
and it had already served its purpose.
I give up. What purpose?
Electrical wire.
Possibly leading to some sort of a speaker?
It'd have to be pretty tiny
to fit in that hole.
You know, a hearing aid is a tiny amplifier and a speaker,
and it fits in the ear.
But why?
His wife's voice.
[telephone rings]
-Hello? -Mrs. Fletcher?
Yes, Lieutenant Acosta.
I've been trying to get back to you so long,
I thought maybe you left the wrong number on my machine.
Did you find anything up there?
I certainly did... including some samples
of the ingredients in Dr. Santana's health drink.
If your lab analysis proves they contain what I think they do,
you have the doctor dead to rights.
That's an interesting choice of words.
A cleaning lady let herself into his apartment
at around 5:00 this afternoon
and found him bludgeoned to death.
Excuse me. I wonder if you can tell me
where I might find a friend of mine.
I believe he has an office in this building.
His name is Jerry Santana.
High-flyin' Jer? I haven't seen him in today.
If you want to leave a message, I'll see he gets it.
Uh, no, thank you, but I don't think that will do.
Forgive me.
Mel, isn't it?
Heh. Look, I don't pretend to be
an interior decorator or anything like that, but, um...
I think that that pale green
looks like a hospital, don't you?
My choice would be to use the cerulean blue
with a touch of white to get the green out of it,
and that will really brighten everything up.
Hey, I bet you're right!
I'd have everybody in the building second-guessing me.
[sighs]
Oh, isn't that just like Jer?
How's that?
I loaned him my ten-cup coffee maker.
Tonight's poker night, and I've got the girls coming over.
Uh, look, Mel, you don't suppose...
down the hall, right at the end.
His name's on the door.
Just be sure to lock it as you leave.
You saved my life, Mel. Thanks.
[dialing]
Yes. Is Lieutenant Nick Acosta there, please?
Right here, Mrs. Fletcher.
Never mind. Here he is.
Couldn't stay away, huh?
Nick, I am absolutely convinced
that Edward did not commit suicide.
Hey, hey, call off the artillery.
It just so happens I think you're right.
Lab reports came through on those herbs you dropped by.
They would've been giving him the worst anxiety attacks...
Highs and lows.
Would've made him vulnerable to suggestion.
And that gizmo on his bed you told me about.
Beth's voice telling him to die.
This morning, I spoke to a friend who knows about such things,
and he says there was probably a pressure switch
sensitive to Edward's body movements.
So the voice was only activated when he slept.
What that boils down to is...
the Doc gave Graham a psychological push off that roof.
Or just maybe... somebody pushed him.
And now Santana.
Santana's watch and wallet were missing.
And according to the cleaning lady,
there were some priceless antiques missing as well.
Calculated murder,
made to look like a robbery in progress.
Possible.
[beeping]
At this point, I don't know if Graham's death
and Santana's murder connect or not.
But at least they both went quick.
If I gotta go, a slow death is not for me.
A slow death?
-Or was it? -Come again?
Oh, I'm sorry, Lieutenant.
You know, I think we have what we need
to solve both deaths and find the person responsible.
[cooing]
Here.
Come on.
[cell phone ringing]
Hello? Central Park.
Ted, I'm glad I reached you.
Oh, Jessica, hey. You're missing a wonderful day.
By the way, your new book will be on our fall list.
And I'm sitting here on a park bench,
letting the pigeons decide the best cover for it.
I hope that's all they're doing. Ha ha!
Why don't you come on over.
I'll save you a seat.
And better pick up some birdseed.
I wish I could.
Ted, the insurance policy
the company bought for Edward Graham
as an inducement for him to come aboard...
Would you happen to know
who was the designated beneficiary?
Not offhand, but I can get back to you with that.
Good. And while you're at it,
perhaps you'll tell me the dollar amount of the policy?
Who set up this meeting anyway?
My secretary said Hartley called.
I've got a writer waiting in my office.
Steve, maybe you know. What's all this about?
Just another turn of the screw.
Literary allusion.
I've never asked you... Do you read?
[door opens]
Hello, everyone. Hope we didn't keep you waiting.
This is Ron Bayless from the Claims Division
of Grable Life.
Ron, what are you doing here?
Taking care of business.
I know most of you expected to see Mr. Hartley,
but he had a scheduling conflict
and suggested we use Edward's office.
In a way, it's very fitting,
because this is about Edward Graham.
Must be his insurance policy.
Somebody is about to get very lucky.
It is my duty to discharge the Grable Life obligation
by presenting this check for $5 million
to Edward Graham's sole beneficiary, Miss Lori Graham.
5 million?
My God.
I don't believe it.
I... I... You're sure?
Positive.
Miss Graham, do you accept this check?
Yes, Sir, I do.
I think I just lost an assistant.
You have, Steve, but not quite the way you think.
Lieutenant Acosta?
Miss Graham... or whatever your name is...
I have a Jane Doe warrant for your arrest for insurance fraud.
You have the right to remain silent.
What are you talking about?
He's talking about a clever plan
to take advantage of Edward Graham's grief and vulnerability
after his wife's death,
a plan that almost worked.
You're crazy... All of you!
This is my money.
Uncle Edward left it to me.
I have every right to it.
That's not exactly true.
You said something to me in the park
that stuck in my mind.
His death must've been a terrible shock.
It happened so fast.
It was like losing my dad all over again.
He went just as quickly when he had his heart attack.
It was only later that I remembered
what Edward had told me about his half-brother.
I'd lost track of Charles
until someone from the family called me
and told me he died from some lingering disease in Oregon.
I never said that. You don't know what you're talking about!
Wrong, Lori. But there's a lot more to it,
and I'm sure that your partner
can fill in the details. Right, Leonard?
Me?
Mrs. Fletcher...
Let me tell you how it came together for me, Leonard.
I was sitting at a computer in Dr. Santana's office,
checking his patient list
to see if there was anybody else on it
who was also in Graham's life.
There was... an "L. Ambler". You, Leonard.
What is this?
So you saw my name on the computer.
That doesn't prove anything,
except that I was seeing a therapist.
Steve's name was there, too.
But only you had access to Edward's insurance policy,
while Dr. Santana... through cunning manipulation...
had access to his mind.
And together, you conspired to kill Edward.
Whether he jumped or was pushed,
it was still murder.
And yesterday afternoon, I suspect it was you
who killed Santana...
so you wouldn't have to share the insurance money.
-This is outrageous! -Shut up.
Let the lady finish, Ambler.
After Beth Graham died,
you submitted to the insurance company
the name of Edward's new beneficiary, Lori Graham.
She's talking about this.
Graham gave me the name. That's his signature.
Note the date... March 2.
Now, this is the letter
that is supposedly from Lori Graham to her uncle Edward.
The postmark is quite clear... March 5.
In other words, Edward Graham submitted the name of his niece
three days before he ever heard of her.
How do you explain that, Leonard?
We checked the signature, Leonard.
It was forged.
Leonard Ambler, you're under arrest
for conspiring to commit murder.
With Dr. Santana, not with me.
I didn't have anything to do with it.
I was an out-of-work actress.
Leonard met me while I was waiting tables.
He asked me if I wanted to play a part
-that would make me rich. -Be quiet!
The whole thing was his idea.
He had the doctor brainwash Graham
and then give him a code he'd hear on the phone
and do whatever he was told...
like jump off the roof.
Getting a guy to commit suicide was one thing,
but if he couldn't do it,
Leonard was ready for that, too.
Aaaaaah!
Leonard did it! He killed Graham,
and then he killed Dr. Santana
so he wouldn't have to split the money!
They used me! I didn't know what I was doing!
I doubt that. Being an actress,
it was probably your voice on the tape
urging Graham to kill himself.
Exactly.
[cheering]
Yeah! Strike!
[cheering]
Come on, Steve! Come on in, slide!
Slide, slide!
-Out! -He was safe!
The guy is safe! He was safe!
He was out.