03x17 - Simon Says, Color Me Dead

[bunniefuu]

[Woman] Tonight on
m*rder, She Wrote.

Well, now that we've finished carving
up the artist, shall we start on the roast?

Could be we're dealin' with
a theft as well as a m*rder.

Whatever he was working on
would've been worth a fortune.

Yeah, I feel a
deep sense of loss.

You being a woman alone, I figured
maybe you had somethin' needed fixin'.

Do you suppose I could take the
boy in and make a home for him?

Tommy needs Irene, his mother.

But there's blood. I cut myself.
It's nothing. Go back to bed!

[Man] Checking to see if any of your
books have been discounted, Jessica?

Simon, you know I really
should be annoyed with you.

The season's almost
over and nary a phone call.

I'm beginning to think that those stories
about you becoming a recluse are true.

They are. I should know.
I started them myself.

Oh, well, that's no reason
to neglect your friends.

I've been very busy, my girl.
Work, work and more work.

Dozens of new seascapes
piled up against the studio walls?

A few, but mostly I've
been reworking one canvas.

- Something very special.
- Oh!

Jessica! What a coincidence.

Eleanor. Ah! [Kisses]

I just came in to buy
one of your books.

My books? I thought I gave you
and Simon a copy of every one.

I was going to phone you. We really
have seen nothing of each other all summer.

- I know.
- Don't feel slighted.

She's been ignoring me as well.

Well.

W-Weekends at the Cove
are about all I can manage.

I'm having the duplex
redone, and it's a full-time job,

dealing with the galleries
and the journalists—

I deal with the art. Eleanor
handles the commerce.

Sounds like a good arrangement.

Otherwise Simon would
never have any time to paint.

Left to his own devices,

Simon wouldn't see anyone,
which is a situation I intend to correct.

Would you be free to come over for a small,
informal dinner party tonight, Jessica?

Oh, my goodness. That
sounds delightful. I'd love to.

Well, which reminds me,
I've got some marketing to do.

Um, 8:00? Elegant casual? Fine.

Great. Bye-bye. Bye-bye.

Oh, and I have got to pop
in and see Amos Tupper...

and tell him the Founders' Day
Committee meeting has been postponed.

He'll be heading off for
lunch. Good-bye, Simon.

If you ask me, stealing another
boy's bicycle is a serious matter, Amos.

Well, now, the
way it looks to me...

Tommy didn't steal your
son's bike, he found it.

Where exactly did
you find it, Tommy?

Behind the softball
field, in the tall grass.

Oh, guess Rodney must've
left it there, Mrs. Sommers.

You must not have
missed it, 'cause we never

got a report. That has
nothing to do with it.

The fact that Mrs. Rutledge's ragamuffin
kid here took it home makes it theft.

Well, it was startin' to rain.
And I didn't want it to get rusty.

With the kind of trash that's been
moving into Cabot Cove lately,

we're gonna have to lock
everything up around here.

We may be poor, Mrs.
Sommers. We are not trash.

- Got no father, has he?
- His father d*ed before he was born.

Now just hold on here!
The fact that Irene,

Mrs. Rutledge, brought the bike in
here, lookin' for its rightful owner...

Well, that makes it a simple
matter of lost and found in my book.

And as far as I'm
concerned, that's the end of it.

Next thing you know he'll take
somebody's car for a joyride.

Thank you, Sheriff. I hope we
didn't cause you a lot of trouble.

No trouble. Lucky Tommy
found it before somebody else.

And lucky he had a mother
who knew where to bring it.

Hello, Mrs. Rutledge.
Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, by the way, I wonder
if you'd be available

to help out at the
Founders' Day Picnic.

- I'm looking for volunteers.
- Oh, I-I don't know.

Well, why don't you think
about it and let me know.

I noticed Martha's tongue
has lost none of its sting.

Yeah. Poor little guy.

Tommy's about the only
kid in town without a bicycle.

When I was about his age, I found
a pair of skates at the mill pond.

Kept hopin' that nobody would
claim them. But somebody did.

You know, Amos, I've got an old
bike in my garage. Frank used to ride it.

[Gasps] Afternoon, ma'am.

Good afternoon.

Name's Cash Logan, ma'am.
I do odd jobs around here.

Looks of your place,
you being a woman alone,

I figured maybe you had
somethin' needed fixin'.

Thank you, Mr. Logan, but, uh,

I'm afraid I can't afford
any repairs right now.

Well, I ain't in no hurry
to get paid or nothin'.

[Jessica] Hello, Mrs. Rutledge.

Well, you ever need any help with
anything, you keep me in mind, okay?

That's a fine-lookin'
boy you got there.

Mrs. Fletcher, if you've come
about the picnic volunteer work,

I don't have anything
proper to wear.

Oh, we'll just be wearing
sweaters and jeans.

Well, maybe next
time. Thanks for asking.

Uh, speaking of clothes, I
was just clearing out my garage,

and I found this old bicycle
that my husband used to ride.

I really don't have any
room for it anymore,

and I—I wondered if Tommy
might have some use for it.

We'd have to lower
the seat, of course...

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher.

We can't afford to buy the
bike, and we don't take charity.

Oh, of course not.

Oh, my goodness. I'm
afraid it's my turn to be

embarrassed. I should
have started at the beginning.

You see, the weeds are
just taking over my yard.

And, uh—Well, I wondered if Tommy
might come over and help me...

to dig them out after school.

I thought maybe he might
take the bicycle in payment.

- Could I, Mom?
- All right.

[Laughs] Great! Well,
then, that's settled.

Tommy, you could
keep the bicycle here...

and, uh, just ride
it over to my house.

Yeah!

Well, since you've been
kind enough to pay a visit,

won't you come
in for some coffee?

Oh, I'd love a cup. Thanks.

[Laughing]

[Man] This absolutely scruffy fellow comes
off Fifth A venue and into my gallery.

I thought he'd been
sleeping in Central Park.

[Laughs] He probably
came in to get out of the cold.

Well, I'd already
buzzed security...

when he had picked out
six of Simon’s seascapes...

and wrote me a check in
seven figures. [Woman] I know.

He found somebody's checkbook.
More likely mugged someone.

Naturally, I don't waste
time on people of that ilk.

I'd already refused his
check and had him hustled out.

Is it just instinct or is there
a little twist to this story?

Your instincts do
not fail you, Jessica.

The next morning, I just happened
to be glancing at the Times,

and there was this
gentleman's picture.

He was giving a rock concert
at Madison Square Garden.

So you see, you can't always
judge a man by his clothes.

Seven figures? I feel a
deep sense of loss, Felix.

Not to mention my commission.

You know, Simon, when you gave
me that little seascape 20 years ago,

- I had no idea.
- I hope you have it well-insured.

- If you ever decide to part with it,
let me know.
- Not on your life.

You know, George and I have
three Simon Thane's. Mm-hmm.

Best investment we ever made.
Makes the Dow Jones look sick.

Even though we're only
summer people here at the Cove,

I think we ought to arrange some
kind of Simon Thane Art Festival.

- Don’t you agree, Jessica?
- Well...

Good Lord, no. That would
be the end of my privacy.

Well, Simon lets nothing
interfere with his work.

Just what have you been
up to this summer, Simon?

- You've hardly sent me anything.
- [Simon] I'm trying something different.

It might just be the very
best thing I've ever done.

[Eleanor] Perhaps
less profitable.

It sounds interesting.
Can we see it?

[Eleanor] I'm afraid that Simon is becoming
secretive in his golden years, Jessica.

Even I haven't seen it. He keeps it
covered up out there in the studio.

[Bell Ringing]

Hmm. A pinch of mystery...

always adds luster to an
artist's aura, not to mention value.

I shall immediately begin to scatter
hints among the board members of the Met.

[All Laughing] Thank you,
Felix. The role of the artist...

is always to break new ground.

Otherwise, he may as well
go into commercial illustration...

and paint beer
bottles for a living.

Thank you, Irene.

Oh, I must say that looks
absolutely mouthwatering.

Well, now that we've
finished carving up the

artist, shall we, uh,
start on the roast?

First-class dinner, Eleanor.

Thank you, George,
actually, the girl did everything.

- Oh, you must give us her number.
- Yes, Irene, it was simply delicious.

Oh, George, please don't choke
us all with that vile cigar smoke.

[George] Has everyone noticed...

what a purist Carol has
become in only a month...

since she gave up that
vile cigarette smoke?

[Carol] Ha!

[Simon Clears Throat]
All rumors to the contrary,

I value an evening
like this with friends,

especially old and dear friends.

But, of course, I must be
reminded of how much I enjoy it...

by a lovely lady who has
enriched my life beyond measure.

A wonderful woman
who has provided me...

with love and support,

even though on occasion
we disagree. [Chuckles]

To Eleanor, without
whom I would be nothing.

- May I tell them?
- Of course.

Simon and I are leaving in
two weeks for one month in Italy.

- A second honeymoon.
- Oh, how lovely.

The man's a veritable
fountain of creative juices.

Why, Eleanor. Now
who's being secretive?

You didn't even tell
me, your closest friend.

[Clock Chiming] My
goodness, midnight.

Well, they do say the mark of a
perfect guest is to know when to leave.

Hmm. I was gonna
have another brandy.

Well, George, you've had enough to
open your own monastery. [Laughs]

And I'm afraid I have one of those
annoying headaches coming on.

Can I give you a hand to
tidy up the kitchen, Eleanor?

Oh, heaven's no, Jessica.
The girl will take care of it.

Can I give you a ride home,
Jessica? I'm staying at Hill House.

Well, Felix, that's very
kind. Thank you. Pleasure.

[Dog Barking, Whining]

[Switch Clicking]

Mom? What's wrong?
Nothing. Go back to bed.

But there's blood! I cut myself.

It's nothing. Go back to bed!

[Water Running]

[Tires Screeching]

[Coughing, Crying]

[Eleanor] Oh, no.

No, no, no.

I'd say the Kn*fe went
right through his heart.

He couldn't have lasted
more than a couple of seconds.

Oh! Who would've wanted
to k*ll that gentle, gifted man?

Seth, when do you think he d*ed?

Oh, you can't put too fine a
point on these sorts of things.

I'd say somewhere between,
uh, midnight, 2:00 a.m.

Looks like it was
a carvin' Kn*fe.

[Sighs] Simon used it to
carve the rack of lamb last night.

Well, no sign of a break-in.

Mrs. Thane says the
door was standin' open...

when she discovered
the body this morning.

Strange. What's that?

Well, everything's
ready for painting.

The oil colors on
the palette are... wet.

But there's no picture
on the easel. Hmm.

Everything's dry back here too.

I always did like Simon's work.

I have a calendar in my office with
some of his best stuff on it. [Sniffs]

All his things.

As if he was just
going to walk in,

put on his smock and
light up his pipe. [Chuckles]

One of the hardest things
about losing a husband...

[Clicking Lighter] is all the
little things he leaves behind.

Sooner or later, when
the pain subsides,

you have to put them away.

[Sobs] We had
the airline tickets,

reservations at a little
pensione in Florence.

I can't believe
he's gone. [Crying]

Eleanor, I'm so sorry.

If there's anything I can do.

Any business details I
can take off your shoulders.

[Clear Throat] Uh, I'm sorry,

but, uh, I gotta ask some
questions, Mrs. Thane.

When was the last time
you saw your husband alive?

After everybody had left,

I guess it was a
little after midnight.

Simon said he had some
work to do out in the studio.

I went up to bed.

Was that usual,
him workin' at night?

Oh, he worked at all hours.

Anyway, I woke up this morning,

and I realized that
he hadn't come to bed.

So I went—I went out to the—
To the studio looking for him.

Eleanor.

There was no sign in the
studio of any painting in progress.

Did you by any chance
remove it for safekeeping?

No. All I saw was
Simon lying on the floor.

Could be we're dealin' with
a theft as well as a m*rder.

Whatever he was working on
would've been worth a fortune.

Sheriff, I suggest an inventory be
made of the studio as quickly as possible.

Yeah, good idea. Just
who was here last night?

Well, George and
Carol Selby were here.

Oh, right, that lawyer fellow
from Boston and his wife,

the one that was
talkin' about havin' a

Simon Thane Art Festival
at the town meetin'.

- They were the first to leave.
- And I dropped Jessica off
on my way back to Hill House.

- Hmm. Anybody else?
- Only the six of us.

- Oh, except that girl, of course.
- Irene Rutledge.

Hmm. Yes.

She was still cleaning up in the
kitchen when I went up to bed.

[Seth] Well, Amos, the autopsy only
confirms what I've already told you.

Massive penetration of the left
ventricle. Must've k*lled him in seconds.

Nothing else? No
marks? No bruises?

Nothing. Oh, a little
paint on the Kn*fe. Paint?

Yeah. Smeared all over the
blade, underneath the blood.

- Pinkish. I expect it was oil paint.
- Hmm. That's very strange.

You say Simon used
it to carve the roast?

Well, then Irene Rutledge must
have handled it when she cleaned up.

- Did you say Irene Rutledge?
- Yes.

What about her? Well,
I saw her on the street

last night, not far
from Thane's place.

- When was that?
- Uh, just after 1:00 a.m.

Amos, if Irene was still there at
1:00, one hour after everyone else left,

she might have seen
or heard something.

Right. Maybe we should
go have a talk with her.

No, I didn't see anyone or
hear anything before I left.

And what time was
that, Mrs. Rutledge?

Um, just after midnight.
Are you sure about that?

I mean, could it have
been more like 1:00?

No, I'm certain. I checked.

I get paid by the hour.

Mrs. Thane went up
to bed. So I latched the

door and let myself out
and went straight home.

[Chuckles] Well,
now that's not what...

Irene, all these boxes.
Are you moving?

Yes, I thought I could
find a job in Portland.

Looks like you're
packin' up in a hurry.

What's this?

Oh!

Those are lovely!

- Where'd you get these,
Mrs. Rutledge?
- Mr. Thane threw them away.

Now just hold on here.

- Some valuable artwork is missin'
from Thane's studio.
- Irene.

These are drawings of you
and signed by Simon Thane.

But he was going
to throw them away.

When I admired them, he
signed them and gave them to me.

She didn't steal 'em.

My Mom doesn't steal!
Now just take it easy, son.

Were you awake when your
mom came home last night?

She came home at
12:00, just like she told you.

I remember because
I looked at the clock.

Sheriff, I found this out back
stuffed in the trash barrel.

Irene, isn't that the
dress you wore last night?

Looks like blood, Sheriff.

She-She cut her finger
on a glass I broke.

That's all it was.

Must've healed pretty quick.

I'm afraid I'm gonna have to take the
dress in for lab analysis, Mrs. Rutledge.

And I'm gonna have to ask you not
to leave town till we get this sorted out.

[Amos] She lied about
what time she got home.

[Jessica] Yeah, and
Tommy backed her up.

'Course he did. The boy
was tryin' to protect his mom.

Can't blame him for that.
That's what troubles me, Amos.

I mean, why would he think
his mother needed protecting?

They're both frightened.
They're concealing something.

Maybe it was those drawings.

Eleanor Thane tells me that
Irene came over to Thane's place...

a couple times a
week to cook and clean,

seein' as how Mrs. Thane
was only there on weekends.

Maybe Simon did give her those
drawings. I mean, he gave me a painting.

And Felix Casslaw,
that art dealer fella?

He says those sketches are worth
thousands if they're signed by Thane.

Now what if she was
stealin' works of art from him?

Amos, that doesn't
make any sense.

If Irene were stealing
valuable artworks,

why doesn't she have the money to
buy Tommy a bicycle? [Car Approaching]

Yeah. Huh, poor little guy.

Reminds me of me
when I was a kid...

[Cash] You got no right
to bring me in. Sheriff.

I pulled Cash Logan here
over for runnin' a stop sign.

Found this in the
back of his truck.

Just might be that picture
stolen by Thane's m*rder*r.

And it's still wet.
[Phone Rings]

Hey, could be this is a
picture of Irene Rutledge.

With the face
missing it's hard to tell.

- Sheriff, telephone.
- Hmm.

Mr. Logan, where
did you get this?

I found it. I was takin'
a load to the dump early

this morning. It was
stuffed in an old carton.

- I see. But why did you take it?
- Somebody threw it away.

But I figured it
bein' a Simon Thane

painting, it might still
be worth somethin'.

How did you know that it
was a Simon Thane painting?

He was carrying this in
his belt under his coat.

I use it for cuttin' rope.
There ain't no law against that.

Thanks a lot. Well, that
was the police lab in Portland.

The blood on Irene Rutledge's dress
matches Simon Thane's in all points.

Afraid I'm gonna have
to arrest her for m*rder.

[Irene] Me? Why
would I k*ll Mr. Thane?

[Amos] I am sorry,
Mrs. Rutledge,

but you lied about what
time you left Thane's place.

Now you sure had access
to the m*rder w*apon.

And his blood was
all over your clothes.

But I had no reason to k*ll
Mr. Thane. He's been very good to me.

Could be you repaid him
by stealin' those drawings.

Maybe he caught you at it? No!

Amos, there could be
another explanation.

Well, if there is, I'd
sure like to hear it.

Irene, did you pose
for Mr. Thane? No.

But you must have
posed for those charcoal

drawings that you
said that he gave to you.

I never posed.

He just did some sketches while
I was working around the place.

Did you see
something last night?

Perhaps something that you
were afraid to tell us about?

No, I didn't see anything.

Well, if that's your final word,
Mrs. Rutledge, I got no choice.

Lock her up.

- What about my son?
- Well, I'll look after him.

At least until we
sort this thing out.

She's lyin'. It's as plain
as the nose on your face.

Yes, she's certainly
concealing something.

Has all the earmarks of a
crime of passion. Passion?

Oh, I know that Simon Thane is
somethin' of an institution around here.

But just because there's
a little snow on the roof,

don't mean that there's
no fire in the hearth,

if you get my drift.

Oh, I get your drift, Amos,

I just think your
anchor is slipping.

That oil paintin', the
one that was slashed,

was of a lady in the altogether.

Could be that there was some hanky-panky
goin’ on between Thane and his model.

Amos, Simon Thane was an artist.

To him, his model
was more likely, uh...

Well, an interesting composition
of line, color and shading.

Maybe so.

But when a lady
takes her clothes off,

well, human nature
bein' what it is.

[Jessica] I know he's frightened,
but he won't allow himself to show it.

[Amos] He's a tough little guy.

Probably already has had
his share of hard knocks.

Amos, what do you think will
happen to Tommy if Irene is convicted?

Well, seein' as how his father's
dead, and Irene's got no other livin' kin,

he'll probably go to an orphanage,
maybe a foster home if he's lucky.

I just can't believe
that Irene is guilty.

Uh, I was thinkin' of goin'
down to the diner for a burger.

Maybe Tommy would
like to go along, huh?

A boy that age needs
lots of nourishment.

Well, that's a good idea. And
I'll look into what Irene needs.

What? A good lawyer.

Oh, yeah.

[Carol] I'm so glad
you dropped by.

You know with
Simon's tragic passing,

I do think we should arrange a
commemorative showing of his works.

Now I know that George and I
would be honored to lend ours.

And I think you would be the
perfect person to organize it, Jessica.

And you do have a
Thane original too, Jessica.

It might be just the thing to
put Cabot Cove on the map.

Well, it's certainly
an interesting idea,

but perhaps a little premature
under the circumstances.

Oh, yeah. I see
your point, Jessica.

There may be a whiff of scandal
concerning that Rutledge woman.

Actually, George, that's what
I wanted to talk to you about.

I mean, Irene
needs a good lawyer,

and, George, obviously
you're one of the best.

But my practice in
Boston takes all my time.

I mean, normally I'm only
here on the weekends.

Well, obviously
there's no money in it.

But the case would undoubtedly
attract national attention.

Yes, George.

Now no matter what that poor
woman did, she's entitled to a fair trial.

Well, I suppose I
could at least look into it.

Oh, good. Then it's settled.

Oh, dear, I said I'd
drop in and see Eleanor.

Mmm, I've gotta run too. Oh.

[Carol] And there's that
poor little boy to consider.

What's his name? Tommy.

Tommy. Can I offer
you a lift, Jessica?

Well, if it's not too much
trouble, George. No.

George, couldn't you
pull some strings and find

some private school
that would take the boy?

I'll make some phone calls.

Well, if there's anything
George and I can do to help.

Well, maybe George can
prove that she's innocent.

Thank you.

[Eleanor] No, it's too soon for
me to even think about a showing.

Well, look, you'll have
to talk to Felix about that.

Look, we'll discuss it in a few
weeks. I've gotta go now. Right.

OH, Jessica, how sweet of you.

Are you feeling a little
better? Oh, keeping busy helps.

Good. There's so much to do.

Felix tells me they've arrested
that woman. Oh, you mean Irene.

- Yes, Irene.
- Well, I don't think
all the facts are known.

- I mean, she might be innocent.
- Really?

- Do you have another theory?
- Oh, no, no.

Just nagging doubts. About what?

Well, I'm curious
about something.

Did a man named Cash Logan ever
do any odd jobs around here for Simon?

Well, being that I only come
up here on weekends, uh...

I never met him, but, yes, I seem to
remember Simon mentioning his name to me.

Bringing firewood, hauling
the rubbish, that kind of thing.

He's the one who found the
slashed picture, a nude study.

Oh, that was so strange,
a total surprise to me.

Then you didn't know
who was posing for him?

I-I assumed it was Irene.

I mean, I heard about
those, the sketches.

Yes, well the same
thought had occurred to me.

Strangely enough, she denied it.

It's very puzzling.

Oh, by the way, was that Felix
Casslaw's car I noticed outside?

- Yes, he's here.
- It must be such a comfort,

having an old friend of the
family close by at a time like this.

Well, yes, he's out in the studio,
doing an inventory of Simon's pictures.

Sorry, did I startle you?

Jessica, you really
shouldn't creep up on people.

Felix, the door was wide open, and I
didn't want to break your concentration.

You've got his
signature down very well.

Well, you see, Jessica,

uh, since these are
unquestionably Thane paintings,

the signature is
merely a technicality.

And a signed Simon Thane is "technically"
more valuable than an unsigned one.

Precisely.

Simon rarely signed his work
until he packed it off to my gallery.

It's a question of protecting
Eleanor's interest in the estate.

Eleanor has given
her approval, of course.

- Oh, of course.
- I'm glad you understand.

Oh, there are some subtleties
about the art business...

that I will never understand.

Yes, well.

Was there something you
wanted to see me about?

Yes, there was.

The painting that was
stolen, the slashed painting.

- I don't remember, did Simon sign it?
- Sorry. I never saw that painting.

Oh, yes, of course.

How forgetful of me.
Nobody saw the painting.

Except Simon, of course, certainly
the model and whoever m*rder*d him.

You mean the Rutledge woman.

Oh, look.

- What a handsome lighter. Is it yours?
- I don't smoke.

Perhaps it belonged to Simon.

Well, I'll give it to Eleanor.
I'm sure she'd want to have it.

There's no doubt in your mind, is
there, that Irene Rutledge k*lled Simon?

Well, until everything is brought out
into the open, there's always some doubt.

Well, don't let me keep
you from your work.

How's my son? He's fine.

And thanks to Amos
Tupper, he's eaten very well.

I don't know how to thank
you for taking care of him.

No trouble at all.

Mrs. Fletcher, Jessica,
can't you help us?

Irene, I want to help you.

But I can't if you
won't tell me the truth.

But I'm afraid.
Yes, I know that.

Irene, what really happened?

[Sighs] Mrs. Thane
had gone to bed,

so when I finished
cleaning up in the kitchen,

I went out to the studio to
see Mr. Thane, to get paid.

And?

Well, he was lying on the floor.
I didn't know what was wrong.

I went to him, turned him over.

There was blood on my hands.

And he'd been stabbed with
the carving Kn*fe. He was dead.

I panicked. I-I ran away.

Irene, why didn't you telephone
the sheriff or at least call Mrs. Thane?

No, I couldn't get
involved. I just couldn't.

But you had done nothing.
Why were you so frightened?

I didn't k*ll him, Mrs.
Fletcher. You must believe that.

Try to remember— Was
there a painting on the easel?

Um, no, the easel was empty.

And the Kn*fe? Hadn't
it been in the kitchen?

Well, I remember carrying it to
the kitchen when I cleared the table,

but, no, it wasn't there
when I put things away.

Irene, are you
telling me everything?

Yes.

The roots, Tommy, make sure
you get right down to the roots.

Oh! [Chuckles]

Just showin' Tommy here the
best technique for pullin' up weeds.

A boy sort of needs a man to show
him how to get the hang of things.

Yes, it's a vanishing
skill. Hello, Tommy.

Hi. Sheriff Tupper
was just tellin' me...

how he broke the passing record at the
Cabot Cove Panthers championship game.

It was so long ago, you
probably don't remember.

Oh, is that the year they made
you the captain of the team, Amos?

Yeah, and after the game, they carried
him off the field on their shoulders.

Oh, my goodness. So
long ago, I'd forgotten.

Uh, isn't it time you
two took a break?

Oh, right.

Tommy, why don't you
hop on your bike there...

and go on down and get us a couple of
ice-cream cones, and make mine raspberry.

I'll be back before they melt.

- Amos.
- Hmm.

Looks like you got a little somethin'
there on your jacket, Mrs. Fletcher.

Hmm.

Oil paint.

Probably brushed up against
somethin' in Thane's studio.

Amos, I was just
talking to Irene.

There's something
I have to tell you.

Excuse me, just a minute.

This just came in for you
special delivery. Thanks.

Thought you might
wanna see it right away.

Been doin' a little checkin' up on
Irene and Tommy's background.

- Amos? What is it?
- Accordin' to the hospital records
where Tommy was born,

his mother d*ed in childbirth.

[Amos] If Tommy's
mother d*ed in childbirth,

then who exactly are you, Mrs.
Rutledge, if that's what your name is?

Is that what you've
been hiding, Irene?

[Sighs] Irene
Rutledge was a friend.

She was very sweet, very scared.

She had no family, no
husband, and she was pregnant.

And we became very close.

When she d*ed— [Clear Throat]

I told the people at the
hospital that I was her sister.

And I took the
baby and I left town.

- And I've been running ever since.
- So you took not only her baby
but her name?

And is that why you were afraid to
become involved in Simon Thane's m*rder?

I wanted to adopt him legally.

I even tried once.

But I don't have any
money. I'm not married.

- I just kept moving.
- And Tommy doesn't know.

He thinks you're his mother.

Well, if that don't b*at all.

And now they're gonna
take him away from me.

Well, we'll deal
with that later.

Right now you're
facing a m*rder charge.

Isn't there anything you remember about
that night? Even something insignificant?

- [Teletype Machine]
- Uh, well, um—

While I was cleaning
up in the kitchen,

I-I thought I heard
a car door slam.

- Sheriff, this just came in
over the teletype.
- Mm-hmm.

Mmm, a rap sheet on Cash Logan.

He knifed some fella in a
bar fight. Nearly k*lled him.

Got 10 years in the pen
for aggravated as*ault.

According to these dates, he came to
Cabot Cove soon after he was released.

Well, Cash hasn't
been in any trouble here.

But that business
about knifin' somebody...

Poor little Tommy. What's
gonna happen to him now?

You really like him,
don't you, Amos?

I see a lot of my own
childhood in that boy.

I was raised by a widowed mother,
deep in the Depression, not much money.

Never could afford the kinda
stuff other kids had. Really.

Do you suppose I could take the
boy in and make a home for him?

- Tommy needs Irene, his mother.
- But she isn't even his real mother.

Well, only two of
us know that, Amos,

and as far as I'm concerned—
[Tommy] Sheriff Tupper!

[Amos] Tommy.

I got the football,
Sheriff. Yeah.

- Sheriff Tupper's gonna show me
how to throw a 50-yard spiral.
- Ooh.

Well, might be a tad
rusty after all these years.

Here's your change,
Sheriff. Okay. Let's go.

There you go.

Here it comes.

Grip the laces now,
the laces. In the laces?

Huh. Okay, now you
go out for a long one.

This way.

Here it comes. Oh, Sorry!

You're doin' pretty
good there, Tommy.

I'll give you a tip. Use both
hands, and pull it in to your chest.

Go ahead.

A little bit of glue and that chair
will be as good as new. Maybe.

Some things can be
fixed and some can't.

Like that painting you picked
up at the dump. What about it?

There's no way that that
can be repaired, you know.

- Why did you really pick it up?
- I already explained all that
to the sheriff.

Was it because you thought that Irene was
somehow involved in Simon Thane's m*rder?

- I don't know what
you're talking about, ma'am.
- Really?

Is it merely coincidence that you went
to prison just before Tommy was born...

and that you came here to Cabot
Cove when you were released?

I did my time. Ain't nobody
gonna touch me here.

I think you came to Cabot Cove to find a
woman named Irene Rutledge and her child.

- You're Tommy's father, aren't you?
- Ain't no kid deserves an ex-con
for a father.

I ain't sayin' I am, but
supposin' 11 years ago,

I cut up some loudmouth drunk that insulted
the woman that was carryin' my child,

supposin' that that woman
d*ed when I was in jail.

Why, I'd do just about anything to make
sure nothing ever happened to that boy.

- Even m*rder?
- Maybe.

If I really was the
father, which I ain't.

Yes, well...

Oh, you seem to have
some paint on your jacket.

Yeah, must've got it when I
has handling that wet painting.

Yes, yes.

Of course. Thank you, Mr. Logan.

Isn't it wonderful, Jessica?

George has found a boarding
school that will accept Tommy.

And there's no reason any of
his peers will ever have to know,

about his mother, I mean. Obviously
you've gone to a great deal of trouble.

Well, I've persuaded one of the bright
young men in my office to handle her case.

- Oh, dear. How—
I'm so sorry.
- Oh, no, no.

The fabric's protected.
It'll wipe right off. Oh, dear.

- You see.
- Oh, my goodness. What's this?

- Huh. Somebody's lighter.
- Oh.

So that's what became
of my lighter. [Chuckles]

Yes, I would have
taken Irene's case myself,

but you see, I already
have a very full calendar.

I don't think that Irene's
case will come to trial.

You mean she's confessed?

No, I mean that someone
else k*lled Simon.

Good heavens. Do you know who?

Yes, I'm afraid I do.

You see, Irene heard a car door slam
when she was clearing up the dishes.

The k*ller must have taken Simon's
picture away with him in the car.

Really, Jessica? Are you sure?

Fairly sure. It's logical.

Wet oil paint makes such a mess. I even got
some of it on the sleeve of this jacket.

This is the same jacket
I was wearing, George,

when you gave
me a lift in your car.

Oil paint in my car? What?

Someone must've
tried to clean it up,

but some was still
left on the armrest.

Are you saying that
I m*rder*d Simon?

I'm sorry, George.

That lighter, your lighter, I didn't
find it between those cushions.

That lighter was
in Simon's studio.

And it's not the sort of lighter
that a pipe smoker uses.

But I haven't seen
this lighter in months.

When Carol and I were both
smoking, we had them all over the place.

I mean, we were
always losing them.

George, I'm so sorry.

Jessica, what is this all about? I came
here thinking you were the m*rder*r,

but, of course, it wasn't Irene
who was posing for Simon.

Don't be ridiculous.

Carol? Oh, Jessica,
that's nonsense.

No, I don't think so.

You were always such
a devoted admirer...

of Simon's genius.

I don't know why it took me
so long to put this together.

The cigarette lighter was in the
pocket of Simon’s dressing gown,

the same gown that he lent
you when you were posing,

which obviously started
before you gave up smoking.

- Carol?
- Oh, George.

- Don't look at me like that.
- While I was in Boston
during the week,

you were having
an affair with Simon?

It wasn't like that.

We shared something spiritual.

Yes.

A long summer...

of intimacy with a man
that you greatly admired.

Oh, he was the most exciting
thing that had ever happened to me.

His creative energy,
his-his excitement.

I suppose I fell
in love with him,

and I thought he felt
the same thing for me.

And then the
night of the party, I—

I realized it was Eleanor
he loved and always had.

And you suddenly
developed a headache.

I had made a fool of myself.

And when that painting was
made public, everyone would know.

I—I had to destroy
that painting.

I waited until I thought everyone
had left, and then I drove back.

And while Irene was cleaning up,

I went in through the kitchen—
She was still clearing the table—

And I found the butcher Kn*fe
and slipped out to the studio.

He was the finest thing
that ever touched my life.

And I k*lled him.

[Amos] So that's how you got
the paint smudge on your jacket.

Yes, Carol carried the
portrait to the dump in the car,

after tearing out the piece of
canvas that showed her face.

Yeah, she left it there where
she figured it'd be b*rned,

but Cash Logan found it.

Yes, apparently she'd tried to clean up
the car, so that George wouldn't know.

But she missed a smudge,
which I brought away on my jacket.

Well, that's all well and good.

But what am I gonna
do about the fact...

that Irene Rutledge has
no legal claim to Tommy?

Amos, if I were you, I
would develop amnesia.

Mmm, save a lot
of paperwork too.

[Knocking] Hello?

Oh, hi there, Tommy, Irene.

Jessica, we just stopped by to thank
you again for everything you've done.

Oh, my goodness. Uh,
would you like some coffee?

No, we really can't stay.

Sheriff.

It looks like I won't be able to
go fishing with you Saturday.

- No? Why not?
- Cash Logan has invited us
to go on a picnic.

We had a long talk about things.

- He's really a very nice man.
- I think I ought to go along.

Well, you being the man of the
family, Tommy, I certainly understand.

- Don't you, Amos?
- Well.

Anyway, thanks again.
Come on, Tommy.

Bye. See you.

I'm not sure I like
the idea of her keepin'

company with the
likes of that Cash Logan.

I wouldn't be a bit surprised if they
started seeing quite a lot of each other.

How about some
more coffee, Amos?

And I will tell you something
else to put into your amnesia file.