06x12 - The Case of the Polka-Dot Pony

[bunniefuu]

The child was placed here
some nineteen years ago.

I don't see how she can be
of any concern to the orphanage now.

Quite true, Mr. Renshaw.

But as I told you on the telephone--
regulations.

Reuniting a child with a long lost parent--

certainly the regulations
can be relaxed a bit.

There are other ways of tracing her,
you know-- state records, for instance.

No, the family would like everything
handled very discreetly.

Discreetly, of course.

There's a great deal of money involved.

Ah yes, money.

It's usually that.

I, uh, took it on myself, Mr. Link,
to suggest to her mother

that a contribution would certainly
help the fine work you're doing here.

We have accumulated a lot of files
in all these years.

And I believe you stated
the child was abandoned.

Therefore, no identity.

Though, of course,
there's usually some clue.

Her first name was Maureen.

I happen to know the approximate date
she was left here--

the month, at any rate.
That should narrow it down.

Suppose we go along
to the file room and see.

Fine.

That's quite an animal you have there.

A lion, isn't it?

Does it have a name?

I know-- it's a cat and it took your tongue.

You about through, Mr. Renshaw?

Just another minute.

I'll have to lock this door while I go
down to the gates for a moment.

Some stranger's talking
to one of the children.

Maureen.

All right, Pop, what do you want?

Now, honey, that's no way to talk.

Would you come and sit down?

Someone's meeting me.

You can spare a minute, can't you?

It's been two years
since you've been home.

Home?

Well, no, I guess it wasn't very much,

but I thought you might come out to see
your old foster-pop once in a while

for old times' sake.

Look, there was a fella was over
at the house asking about you yesterday.

His name's Renshaw.

What's he selling?

Nothing.

He said he was your uncle Burt.
I showed him your picture.

My uncle?

Oh, he was a salesman!

Did you tell him where to find me?

- No.
- Well, don't!

It's possible he could be
your uncle, isn't it?

How would I know?

And for that matter, how would he know?

Look, what do you want me
to tell this fella, huh?

You just tell him
that I left home five years ago

and haven't returned since.

It's half true anyway.

Oh, look, Pop, he's a phony.

And even if he isn't, I don't need him.

You don't need anybody, do you?

Only the friends I choose.

Do you need any money?

I've never asked you
for anything yet, have I?

Well, this won't spoil your record.

I'll try to get out and see you some time.

Your flight was announced
a half an hour ago.

What did you do, take the train?

The pilot got fresh over Fresno,
and I had to walk home.

Fresh over Fresno?

Well, aren't you going
to punch him or something?

And have a shiner for tomorrow?

Oh, no. I'm a lover, not a fighter.

What's tomorrow?

Well, I thought we'd drop in on my family

and let them meet the girl
I'm going to marry.

Oh no, Rich.

Have you told them I'm an orphan?

Well, no.

But I didn't tell them you were
a registered foreign agent, either.

Aw, they'll get used to it, darling.

Besides, that's not really
important to anybody.

Except to an orphan.

Come on in out of the storm, orphan.

May I help you?

Oh, yes. Is Mr. Renshaw in, please?

It's a personal matter.

- Yes. Right in the office.
- Uh--

- You can go right in.
- Oh, thank you.

Yeah?

Oh. Come in, come in, Mr. Thomas.

Ha ha. Nice to see you.

I suppose you've talked to Maureen.

Of course you have,
or else you wouldn't be here, right?

She doesn't want to see you,
Mr. Renshaw.

Well, that's hardly the point.
But I do want to see her.

She doesn't think you're her uncle.

Oh?

Well, I've got $ here
that says she's wrong.

What do you think of that?

When we got her from the orphanage,
they didn't even know her last name.

It's Renshaw.
She was my brother's child.

That should prove that I'm her uncle,
shouldn't it?

Seems reasonable enough to me, but--

Oh, wait a minute. I got a little
something here for you.

A little souvenir.

Why, that's me!

How in the world did you ever get that?

Professional secret.

Took it when you were in here yesterday.

Go ahead. Put it in your pocket.

Well.

Thanks.

Oh, how are you, Mr. Grove?

- Will you come on in?
- Sure.

I'm just putting through a call to New York.

To Maureen's mother.

Well, it seems I dropped in
at the right time.

She'll be very happy to know
you and I bumped into each other

because I've found out where Maureen is.

Really?

Hello?

Yes. I'm calling Mrs. Arturo Fernaldi.

Yes, thank you.

Her second husband was Italian.

d*ed several years ago.

She's still an Italian citizen, though.

Spent most of the time traveling
with a woman companion.

Now the woman drowned
in a boating accident of some sort,

and Mrs. Fernaldi's all alone.

I suppose I told you about that.

No. No, you didn't.

Hello. Mrs. Fernaldi?

James Grove.

Oh. How sweet of you to call,
Mr. Grove.

Where are you?

In Los Angeles.

I have some news for you about Maureen.

Good news, Mr. Grove?

Oh. Wait.

Let me sit down before you tell me.

It's all right. I'm quite all right.

You were saying, Mr. Grove?

I've succeeded in locating your daughter.

Oh!

Oh, my dear, that's wonderful.

Oh, I-- I think I'm going to cry.

They've found my little girl.

Oh, I-- I can't talk.

Uh, just a moment.

Get all the details for me,
will you, George,

and tell that wonderful young man
that I'll be the first plane to Los Angeles.

This is a friend of Mrs. Fernaldi.
We met on a plane.

She's rather excited.

I think she took it very well.

Yes, I'll take care of everything
at this end.

Good night, sir.

You might have let me talk to her.

- Why?
- Why? Because she's my sister-in-law.

That's why. She probably doesn't
even know I'm still alive!

I didn't realize you had such strong
family feelings, Mr. Renshaw--

after all these years, too.

Excuse me.

Just a minute, Mr. Grove.

There's something else
you'd better realize, too.

I'm the only one who happens to know
where to find Maureen.

You tell Angela to get in touch with me.

I don't think your help will be
needed in the future, Mr. Renshaw.

Maureen?

Maureen, this is your Uncle Burt.

I didn't even know I have an uncle.

You may not see him again
for another twenty years.

Goodbye, Mr. Renshaw.

Now just a minute, Mr. Grove.

I said goodbye, Mr. Renshaw!

It's a swindle, Mr. Mason.
It's an out-and-out swindle.

That's all it is.

Grove is trying to pass off that girl
as Angela's daughter.

I don't know where he dug her up,

but I do know he hasn't got
any real evidence to go on.

Just pieces of incomplete records, maybe.

But he's not going to get away with it.

I imagine Mr. Grove will make
the same charge against you.

So let's see what there is
in the way of evidence.

Well, to begin with, Maureen was left
at the Bolton Hall Orphanage

when she was a year and a half old.

Two years later, she was placed
in a foster home in Orangedale.

The foster family's name is Thomas.

As I understand it,

she was abandoned with no identity
other than a first name.

Well, yeah, that's true but--

Were you familiar
with the circumstances?

Well, certainly.

My brother divorced Angela
and got custody of the child.

He was awarded custody?

Why not the mother?

Because she was an alcoholic.

Isn't that nice!

I'm only telling you the way it was.

Then Ed went into the Navy,
so he left her on the orphanage steps--

I must've been a beautiful baby, hmm?

Look, Ed didn't consult with me about it.

I was a bachelor, and if I'd known,
I'd have done something about it myself!

Anyway, after Ed's sub sunk,

I did send money every year or so
to the orphanage, to get you a few extras.

Did you do this anonymously?

Well, yeah.
I thought it best at the time.

Then there is still no positive proof
that this particular Maureen is your niece.

How do you feel about it, Miss Thomas?

Oh, very wanted.

Look, I have a date in forty minutes
with my future in-laws,

if they want me.

Wait a minute. You can't just
walk out on Angela like this.

Why not? She did it to me.

But that was twenty years ago.
She's straightened herself out now.

How do you know that, Mr. Renshaw?

Well, Grove told me she married
this Italian-- a big industrialist.

He left her plenty, I guess.

A villa in Rome, a place on the Riviera,
Paris every spring.

Oh, she's got plenty of money, all right.

I mean, why would Grove
pull in this phony on us?

Now here's my plan--

I'm not interested
in any of your plans, Mr. Renshaw.

I think it would be wiser
to let Mr. Mason handle this for me.

So that's the way it is, huh?

Okay, try it and good luck.

But I happen to know something
nobody else does.

And make no mistake.

You'll all be coming back to Uncle Burt
before this whole thing is over.

[door opens, closes]

Don't look at me that way, Mr. Mason.

Maybe I could use somebody important
in my background.

Well, now what's the first move?

Say, you by any chance Maureen's
young man she's been talking about?

I must be.

I'm her uncle Burt-- Burt Renshaw.

Oh? I didn't know Maureen had an uncle.

Well, in that case,
I think we'd better get acquainted.

Suppose I give you a call
one of these days.

Fine, do that.

Here. You can reach me at this number.

- Richard Campion, eh?
- Right.

Yeah, I'll-- I'll be calling you.

Good.

...so there I was on a roller coaster
, feet over the continental divide

with my seatbelt fastened and nothing
but one of those ridiculous paper sacks.

Oh-- you were queasy, Richard?

Yes, Mother. I was queasy, all right.

The stewardess can vouch for that.

Yes. He was as green as a Martian.

Uh, do you suppose
that Martians are really green?

Well, if they are,
I know exactly how they feel.

Yes, well, I must say that, well,
planes have always frightened me.

Yes.

I should think your parents
would worry about you constantly.

Oh, I do the worrying about her now.

All those handsome pilots--

My father is dead.

I'm so sorry.

He was a submarine commander.

He was sunk by an enemy.

[Mr. Campion]
Fine tradition, the Navy.

My mother's lived in Europe ever since.

Why don't we all
have another drink, huh?

Her name is Mrs. Arturo Fernaldi.

[phone rings]

[ring]

Hello.

Oh, yes. Just a minute, please.

Maureen, it's for you.

It's not the Prince of Monaco,
but take it anyway.

Don't be surprised if it's all true.

Hello.

Hello, Maureen.

This is your uncle Burt.

Surprised to hear from me so soon?

How did you know I was here?

Oh, I get around, Miss Thomas.

Angela arrived today.
I've been over to see her.

Did you have a nice family reunion?

Well, I wouldn't want to say
how nice it was,

but I sure learned a lot.

Oh yes, it was very enlightening.

Am I her daughter?

Well, now, suppose you come over here
and I'll tell you, huh?

I think we can do business.

All right? Here's the address.

Well, of course I'll come alone.

But it'll take me at least an hour.

Mr. Renshaw?

[dialing]

I've never met anyone named Pop Thomas,
nor have I met a Richard Campion.

"Maureen" could be anybody.

The "Mason" probably is me,
but what made you think so?

His clerk, a Margaret MacDonald, said
he had an appointment with you yesterday.

Yes. He consulted me on a legal matter,
but I haven't seen him since then.

You're not likely to now, Counselor.
He was m*rder*d last night.

- Where?
- In his camera shop in Hollywood.

That list was found on his desk
beside the phone.

Looks like he made three calls,
but never got around to the last one.

So far as I know, Lieutenant,
he had no reason to phone me.

Hmm. And you can't help us
on those other three names?

I'm afraid not.

I'll take care of this later, Della.
Thank you.

Doesn't the clerk at the camera shop
know who these people are?

Maybe.

But so far, she's just been hysterical.

Which probably means Miss MacDonald
was very close to Renshaw.

Yes.

Maybe she can tell us a great deal.

If she ever stops being hysterical.

Oh, we'll calm her down, all right.

Della, get hold of Paul.

Have him make a fast check
at the Bolton Hall Orphanage--

a baby left on the doorstep
nineteen years ago.

She was a year and a half at the time
and had only a first name-- Maureen.

Do you think it's really Miss Thomas?

I think it would be
a lucky accident if it were.

However, it looks as if Renshaw simply
located a Maureen, any Maureen,

in the hopes of foisting her off on Angela.

Oh, Miss Thomas--

Mr. Mason.
What are you doing out here?

Waiting for you.

Well, it must be very important.

Am I really Angela's daughter?

At the moment, there's no proof either way.

I've made an appointment for you
to meet her tonight, that is if you want to.

If she's really my mother,
why shouldn't I want to?

Was Burt Renshaw your uncle?

I have no idea.

Why do you say "was"?

He was m*rder*d last night.

m*rder*d?

Why?

Well, in my office, didn't he say in effect

that he was the only one
who could identify Angela's daughter?

You mean now we'll never know.

I'd say your chance at the money
is just as good as Maureen Franklin's.

Don't talk to me about money, Mr. Mason!

I've been making my own living
since I was sixteen years old,

with no help from any mother
or anyone else!

I just think I need someone right now.

Why now?

Because I went over
to meet Rich's parents last night.

Do you want to know something funny?

I suddenly realized
I'm just a status seeker after all!

I really want a mother.

I hope you get one.

You know, Mr. Mason, I'm rather glad

California has jurisdiction
in this parentage matter.

Why, Mr. Grove?

If my firm knew you were
representing the competition,

they'd certainly send out the first team.

It's a great opportunity for me to be here.

I was under the impression
that Mrs. Fernaldi was your client.

Well, my firm was retained
to locate her daughter.

Having done that,
it seems I have to verify it.

Can you do that, Mr. Grove?

My mother will be--

Oh. I mean Mrs. Fernaldi
will be out in a moment.

Thank you.

Miss Franklin, this is Mr. Mason.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

Oh, and Miss Thomas.

Oh.

So you're an alumnus of Bolton Hall, too.

Yeah, a refugee.

Oh, isn't this nice? We're all here.

And you must be Mr. Mason.

Yes. You fit the voice.

Mr. Mason telephoned me today,
and I was quite taken by his voice.

So often when one meets the person,

well, they don't really match,
if you know what I mean.

Oh, you must be Maureen.

One of them.

Let me look at you...

Oh, you're-- you're quite lovely, but--

What is it, Mrs. Fernaldi?

I just don't know.

I mean, one would think that a mother
would know her own child by sheer instinct.

But of course, I was a very bad mother.

Oh, no.

I'm afraid it's dreadfully,
unhappily true.

I abandoned you, my dear.

Or was it you?

How does one tell?

Mr. Mason, please help me.

What am I going to do?

I'm afraid there's nothing for you to do,
Mrs. Fernaldi.

If the records and the evidence available
aren't conclusive,

- a court will have to decide.
- Oh.

Would you excuse me, please?
Mr. Mason?

Yes.

I'm afraid it's all terribly confusing,
isn't it?

I mean, you don't even know
what to call me.

Mr. Mason, I have a considerable
head start on you.

I'll try to catch up, Mr. Grove.

I have no doubt of that.

But I think you'll find the evidence
tends to support Miss Franklin's claim.

There are certain blood tests
which could be made.

They might eliminate
either one of the girls.

Yes, yes, I've already made
arrangements for that,

but we don't have much data
on the father's blood.

I take it you feel
this should not go into court.

Well, I think it would certainly be
presumptuous of me to give you advice.

Not at all. I'd welcome it.

Well, I suppose you've heard
of Burt Renshaw's m*rder.

Yes.

Well, I'm not suggesting
your client isn't sincere

in believing she's
Mrs. Fernaldi's daughter.

However, if the tests
should show against her

or, more likely,
if the court decides against her--

and I'm confident it will-- there could be
an implication of attempted fraud.

And you think Renshaw was m*rder*d
because he knew of the fraud?

I think that's what the police
are bound to suspect,

and it could put your client
in an uncomfortable position.

Now, I'm sure she had nothing
to do with the m*rder,

or I wouldn't make the suggestion.

Are you as sure of your client--
Miss Franklin?

Well, that's pretty farfetched, isn't it?

Why?

Until one or the other is proven
to be Mrs. Fernaldi's daughter,

they're interchangeable, aren't they?

Della.

- Oh, Perry. Hello, Miss Thomas.
- Hello.

Paul would like for you to meet him
at this address as soon as possible.

All right. I'll get right over there.

Mm-hmm. And here's the latest edition.
I thought you might find it interesting.

Miss Thomas, I'll be gone about an hour.

I'd like you to stay here.

Why?

Convenience.

I could use this picture on a passport.

How could they have gotten
that picture, Maureen?

I don't even remember having it taken.

Maybe nobody will recognize me.

I wouldn't count on that.

Good work, Paul.

These files aren't usually available
without a court order.

I told the assistant director I knew
Burt Renshaw got in on a little grease.

He became suddenly agreeable.

Where's Maureen's file?

Which one? There have been
half a dozen Maureens in this place.

Well, from the facts
that Burt Renshaw gave us,

you can eliminate most of them, can't you?

Well, only two really fit,
but that doesn't help much.

Here. Look at the information on this tab.

It does not match the record inside.

Somebody did a real sloppy job of filing.

Maybe some of the pages
could have been switched.

But this is obviously a file
on Maureen Thomas.

"Found on orphanage doorstep
August ," and so forth.

What's wrong with that, Paul?

That was the month that Renshaw said
that his brother abandoned the baby.

I'm afraid you're backing a loser.

I checked Ed Renshaw's service record.

In August of that year, he was
on submarine patrol in the Coral Sea.

He'd been there for a month.

What about this file?

I traced this Maureen from the orphanage
through three different foster homes,

each one of which
gave her a different last name.

What name is she using now?

Maureen Franklin.

- Well, hello, Andy.
- Perry, Paul.

Have you seen this, Counselor?

- Yes.
- "Do you know this girl?"

But that's no longer the question.

She was identified by an airline as Maureen
Thomas, one of their hostesses.

All I want to know now:
can you tell me where this girl is?

Let's go into my office, Andy.

- Paul, I'll talk to you later.
- Good luck.

Maureen, Lieutenant Anderson
would like to ask you some questions.

In connection
with the m*rder of Burt Renshaw.

All right.

Not here. Downtown.

On what evidence?

The background was trimmed off
before the papers ran it.

You can see for yourself that this picture
definitely places her in the camera shop.

Being in a place of business
is hardly incriminating.

On the night of the m*rder?

- He was already dead--
- Maureen,

the Lieutenant forgot to warn you

that anything you say
may be used against you.

[Anderson]
Okay, so you've said it for me.

Now you can tell me
where you got this picture from.

Remember Renshaw's clerk?

Margaret MacDonald.

She's not hysterical anymore.

Shall we go, Miss Thomas?

Now let's see, Miss MacDonald,

you say that you were employed by
the late Burt Renshaw for how long?

Twenty-one years.

Then it's fair to assume that you knew
something about your employer's private life?

A little.

Including the circumstances
of his brother's child?

Well, I didn't know his brother
or his brother's wife.

But I helped take care of the baby

after Ed was shipped out
to the South Pacific nineteen years ago.

After he was shipped out?

Then how could the brother have put
the baby in the orphanage?

He couldn't.
It was Burt Renshaw who did that.

When was this?

Well, that's the trouble.
I don't remember the date,

well, because he didn't tell me
until after he'd done it.

And was that the last contact
Burt Renshaw had with his niece?

Until he went out to look for her
just recently.

Went to find her with what results,
Miss MacDonald?

Well, he found a girl named Maureen.

Now, Miss MacDonald, I show you
this photograph of the defendant.

I ask if there's anything about this
photograph that you recognize.

Oh, yes, that was taken
with Burt's secret camera.

Would you explain to us, please,
what you mean by secret camera?

Well, Burt set it up
as a promotional gimmick.

Every customer that stepped on the mat
in front of the cashier's desk

took his own picture with a camera
that was concealed in the wall.

Is there any way of telling
when this particular picture was taken?

Yes, I changed the film after closing time
the evening of the m*rder.

So this picture would have to have been
taken sometime later during that night.

And on that evening,
did the decedent Burt Renshaw

stay in the shop after closing hours?

Yes. He said he had to wait for somebody.

I had a girl friend with me.
She's sitting right over there,

and she heard him
say all the things I did.

Did he tell you who he was waiting for?

No. But he did say

"I've discovered she's an impostor
and a phony. You better go on home."

Than he was waiting for a woman
who was an impostor and a phony?

Well, that's all he told me.

So I said good night and left.

Thank you, Miss MacDonald.
That will be all.

You may cross-examine, Mr. Mason.

Miss MacDonald, nineteen years ago,
did you register any objection

to the placing of the defendant
in an orphanage?

Your Honor,
I'll register an objection right now!

Counsel knows perfectly well

that the defendant has not been identified
as Maureen Renshaw!

Objection sustained.

Miss MacDonald, did you object
to the Renshaw baby being abandoned?

Well, it was too late for objections.

He did it without even telling me,

even though I had offered
to raise the baby myself if--

If what, Miss MacDonald?

Well, Mr. Renshaw and I vaguely
discussed the matter of marriage.

I see.

Now, leaving her
on the orphanage doorstep

wasn't Burt Renshaw's
last contact with the baby, was it?

Oh, yes,

until he went out to look for her
several days ago.

But isn't it true

that Burt Renshaw made occasional
anonymous contributions to the orphanage

to be sent on for the care
and support of the child?

No.

I mean, yes, the money was sent
to the orphanage, but I sent it.

Well, I took it out of the cash register.

Well, he could afford it.

It was the only decent thing he ever did,

even though he didn't know
he was doing it.

Yes, the orphanage records show

that contributions were received
at irregular intervals

over the last nineteen years.

And you say that these were
anonymous contributions?

Yes, sir.
It started long before my tenure there.

However, there is a note on file

that the money was to be used for extra
benefits to a child named Maureen.

No further identification than that?

None.

And, of course, there were
several children of that name.

Of course.
What was then done with the money?

One of my predecessors
apparently deduced

that it was intended for one
of two particular Maureens,

and his decision was
to divide it equally between them.

We followed that policy.

Can you further identify for us

the two particular Maureens
to whom you refer?

Well, I believe they are now known as
Maureen Franklin and Maureen Thomas.

Thank you, sir.

When our Maureen-- the defendant--
first came to us,

we got the regular amount
for child support.

Then after a while, the orphanage
started sending us more--

oh, $ or so extra, every year, maybe.

How long did these extra payments
continue, Mr. Thomas?

Hmm, up to the present, I guess.

How many years has it been
since Maureen left your home?

About five years, I guess.

The orphanage was unaware of that?

Well, no, I guess we just
sort of pretended that--

So there's a good deal of money which
Maureen never received, is that right?

Well, you see, my wife was very sick
the last few years,

and I had so many expenses,
so I just kept on using it, I guess.

The orphanage records show

that you received half of the money
contributed indirectly by Burt Renshaw

for the support of a girl named Maureen.

Oh, yeah, sure. That's how he knew
where to find his niece.

Your Honor, for the second time,

the defendant has not been established
as Burt Renshaw's niece.

I'll withdraw the question, so the witness'
answer may be stricken from the record.

The clerk is so instructed.

Let me put it this way, Mr. Thomas.

Isn't it true that Burt Renshaw discovered

you had been misappropriating money
intended for your foster daughter?

Well, yes, but I explained
the circumstances to him,

and I promised to pay it all back.

Did you actually pay him back
any of that money, Mr. Thomas?

Well, no. See, he was k*lled, and--

That's all, thank you.

He was stabbed with that pair of scissors.

They were kept on his desk
for photo trimming.

Tell me this, Lieutenant.

Was blood found anywhere
other than in the m*rder room?

Yes. An examination
of the defendant's possessions

revealed a handbag with dried blood on it--

the same type blood as the dead man's.

Thank you, Lieutenant. Mr. Mason?

No questions.

Very well, Lieutenant Anderson.
You may step down, sir.

I call Mr. James Grove to the stand, please.

I almost tripped over him.

That's when I dropped my handbag
right next to him.

[bailiff]
Do you swear to tell the truth...

- But he was already dead.
- ...and nothing but the truth?

He was.

- State your name, please.
- James Grove.

Right now, it's more important for you
to prove you are Angela's daughter.

Mr. Mason, can you remember back
when you were four years old?

The best place to begin my search
was with Mrs. Fernaldi's brother-in-law--

the decedent, that is.

I was still under the impression
Mr. Renshaw had raised Maureen.

However, Mr. Renshaw
was extremely evasive,

so I undertook to follow him.

This took me to Bolton Hall Orphanage.

How did you then proceed, Mr. Grove?

I obtained the necessary
authorization to examine the files.

From that and other background
information I had,

I became satisfied
Mrs. Fernaldi's daughter was a girl

who is now known as Maureen Franklin.

Of course,
since then we've taken blood tests.

They were inconclusive.
They didn't eliminate either girl.

However, Mrs. Fernaldi
was able to recall one additional fact

that a certain possession
of Miss Franklin's has now verified.

Indeed!

Well, since Mrs. Fernaldi is present
today in this courtroom,

her own testimony will, of course,
be best evidence on that subject.

But, Mr. Grove, I have one additional
question of you, sir.

Is your law firm acting
as executor of a trust fund

established several years ago
by Mrs. Fernaldi's late husband?

That is correct, sir.

It's a trust fund set up
in favor of the daughter,

in the event she could be located
and was still living, of course.

And when the identity of Maureen Renshaw
is finally and fully established,

what amount will that young lady receive?

When she's twenty-one her next birthday,
she will receive approximately $ , .

[spectators murmur]

That time long ago was a time
of great sorrow in my life.

My husband divorced me,
not without some justification,

and won the custody of my baby.

Due to the state of my health,

the recollections of that period
are quite disconnected.

Yes, I understand.

And yet there was one thing
you were able to remember

which was of assistance to Mr. Grove
in his search for your baby?

Well, so he indicated.

But I can't imagine what it was,

unless, of course, he meant
the only picture that I have of her.

Where is that picture now, Mrs. Fernaldi?

I'm afraid it's not very helpful.

She was less than one year old at the time.

Besides, the toy sort of tends
to hide the baby.

Oh, I've compared it to both Maureens.

I'm afraid it's quite useless.

Yes, but would you describe
the toy the baby is holding?

That was her polka dot pony.

It was a little stuffed animal
I bought for her in a toy store.

The last time I ever saw my child,
she was clutching that silly little pony.

When I was placed in my first foster home,

the orphanage sent along
a little box with my toys in it.

There weren't many, but I do recall

one of them was a small stuffed animal,
like a horse, maybe?

Do you know what happened to these
playthings of yours, Miss Franklin?

Yes. When I left my first foster home,
the box was left behind.

My next parents were always
going to get it for me,

but I guess they really wanted me
to play with the new toys.

When I told Mr. Grove about it,
he got the box and took it up to his office.

I see.

Is this the box you refer to?

Yes. That's the one.
I can remember.

I haven't seen it yet, though--
opened, I mean.

Your Honor, it's our intention to call the
foster parents, Mr. and Mrs. Haring,

and to recall Mr. Grove to show properly
how this box was stored and handled.

But with the court's indulgence,
I would first like at this time first

to open the box in front of Miss Franklin.

[judge]
Mr. Mason?

I think I have no objection, Your Honor.

Very well, Mr. Burger.

Is that your toy, Miss Franklin?

Oh, yes. It must be!

Oh, yes, I'm sure it's mine!

It's her. She's the one.

That's my baby.

Well, what are we going to do?

It's a problem, all right.

Unless Mr. Grove is an out-and-out crook--

Mr. Mason, I know Maureen.
She didn't k*ll Renshaw.

There's been so much pain in her life,
she can't bear to hurt people.

And it wasn't Angela's money she wanted.
It was just to be somebody's daughter.

Do you think she's the real Maureen, Rich?

As far as I'm concerned,
it makes no difference at all.

I'm afraid it will to a jury.

If she's proven to be the phony Maureen,
it gives her quite a large motive for m*rder.

Perry, Angela Fernaldi could have shown
the baby picture to Mr. Grove, couldn't she?

So planting that stuffed animal
to fit the facts would have been simple.

I wonder if Paul's contacts in Europe

could locate anyone to whom Mrs. Fernaldi
might have talked to about the pony.

If only our Maureen could only recall
something to help her verify her claim.

Della, how much can you remember

of what happened
when you were four years old?

Not very much.

Everybody believes that girl
because she's had a chance to talk.

Why don't you put me on the stand
and let me tell my side of it?

What would you say?

Well, I don't know exactly,

but I think that's my polka dot pony.

Why do you think that?

Well, you see, when I was just a little girl,
I had a nickname-- Buttons.

I hadn't thought about it for years,
but I remembered last night.

Well, I mean, those big dots
do look like buttons, don't they?

Yes, they do, Maureen.

Oh, well, they'd just think
I'd made it all up anyway, wouldn't they?

Not necessarily.

But there are other reasons
why I'm not going to put you on the stand.

Mrs. Fernaldi, did this polka dot pony
have a name?

A name?

Oh, dear. I'm afraid I've quite forgotten.

Does "Buttons" ring a bell for you?

No-- no, I don't think so.

Can you swear that this is the same toy
that you bought twenty years ago?

I'm almost certain it is, but--

Oh dear. I thought this was all settled.

Mr. Mason, which of the girls
do you think is my daughter?

Don't you have any more recollections
that might help to answer that question?

I've thought and thought.

I've wracked my brains
until I'm simply exhausted,

but there are some blank spaces
in my memory of that period.

[sigh]
Must I say why?

Well, I was young and frightened,
and my husband--

and, well, I just wasn't able
to cope with everything.

The ugly truth is, Mr. Mason,
that I was frequently quite drunk.

Was that the cause of your divorce,
Mrs. Fernaldi?

No. Excessive drinking is not a cause,
it's a result.

At least that's what my doctor
in Switzerland told me.

But the result of those results was that--

well, I couldn't properly
take care of my baby.

One day I accidentally b*rned her,
and that's when Edward took her away.

A serious burn, Mrs. Fernaldi?

I don't think so, but oh, she was so tiny,

and I-- I cried because I thought
she might be marked for life.

You mean left a scar?

Oh, I hope not, but--

Well, that would help, wouldn't it?

Assuming your child does have
such a scar, Mrs. Fernaldi,

where would that scar be located?

Oh, well...

it would be on her left shoulder,
just about here.

No more questions, thank you.

The witness may step down.

Oh.

Your Honor, the state feels

that there's no useful purpose served
in prolonging this hearing any further.

Certainly there can be no doubt remaining

that the circumstantial evidence
against this defendant is conclusive.

And her motive is equally clear--
Burt Renshaw was m*rder*d

because he knew which of these two
claimants is the impostor.

Well, Your Honor,

now that question has been answered
right here in this courtroom.

And despite Mr. Mason's insinuations

that the evidence of the polka dot pony
was planted,

the state will not even bother
to recall Miss Franklin to the stand.

The fact that she has the exact identifying
scar described by this witness

is obvious to everyone.

All right, Mr. Burger,
you've made your point.

Mr. Mason, have you any other witnesses
to call in cross-examine?

Yes, Your Honor.

With the court's permission, I should like
to recall Miss Margaret MacDonald.

Referring to your previous testimony,
Miss MacDonald,

did the decedent ever discover

that you had taken money from his
cash register for the child's support?

Well, no,

not until he started to look for her, I mean.

Now, we have heard that he demanded
the return of the money from Mr. Thomas.

How did he respond to your confession?

- He struck me.
- I see.

Now, Miss MacDonald, the previous witness
has acknowledged a faulty memory

due to the great lapse of time.

If possible, I would like you
to substantiate her recollection.

Well, I never even saw the parents, so--

I mean about the baby, Miss MacDonald.

Oh.

Well, let me see.

You know, babies, all babies,
acquire scars and bruises of some sort.

I don't remember,

but I suppose there could have been
something on her shoulder.

Corresponding to Miss Franklin's scar?

Yes.

Thank you. That'll be all.

The witness may step down.

Your Honor, at this time,
I should like to recall Mr. James Grove.

Very well. Mr. Grove?

You're still under oath, Mr. Grove.

Mr. Grove, when you were assigned
the task of locating the missing heir,

were you shown the baby picture
that we've seen here?

Certainly. We compared notes
on everything we knew of the child.

Then one of the questions
I later asked Maureen Franklin

was if she remembered any of her toys.

That's when she told me about the box
that had been left behind at her first home.

Mrs. Fernaldi and I
went over there to get that box.

The people there
had a vague recollection of it.

They were afraid
it might have been thrown away,

but we finally located it
in an old woodshed.

It had the name "Maureen" on it.

Now, I'm not ignoring the possibility

that such evidence as the polka dot pony
could have been planted, Mr. Mason.

However, it does seem farfetched

that Maureen Franklin could
quite so rapidly acquire a scar

to fit Mrs. Fernaldi's recollection.

Mr. Grove, suppose it were
the other way around.

Suppose Mrs. Fernaldi
acquired a "recollection"

to fit an existing scar
on Maureen Franklin's shoulder?

What? Oh, this is ridiculous.

You're just trying to confuse
the matter of identification.

No, Mr. Grove.
I'm trying to establish identification.

Which of the two Maureens is
the daughter is no longer the point.

The question should be
who is the mother?

- What?
- In other words,

do you know this woman
is really Mrs. Arturo Fernaldi?

I-- I-- Well, she had all the necessary
identification-- the papers, passport.

But suppose it wasn't a traveling
companion but Mrs. Fernaldi herself

who was drowned in Europe
some months ago.

Wouldn't all the necessary papers
and information

have been available to this other woman?

A woman who'd been
her nurse and friend for years?

Well, how should I know?
I believed she was Mrs. Fernaldi!

She is Mrs. Fernaldi.

And so did everyone else believe her,

except Burt Renshaw.

Mrs. Fernaldi, you were the imposter
he was waiting for that night,

- were you not?
- No. What are you talking about!

Renshaw wouldn't have recognized
either girl after almost twenty years,

but he certainly would have know
his own sister-in-law.

Was that why you k*lled him?

Because he knew
that you weren't Angela Fernaldi?

It it was an accident.
I didn't mean to do it.

- [spectators murmur]
- [ judge taps gavel]

I meant no harm.
I wouldn't even have come here

if I'd known that Mr. Grove
would find a living relative.

But that Mr. Renshaw demanded payment--

every penny I could ever find.

I didn't have any money.

Angela had spent every cent of it.

All there was left was that trust fund
they'd set up for her daughter

and for me, nothing.

Me, her constant companion,

waiting on her for fifteen years,
catering to her every whim.

Well, I was entitled to something,
wasn't I?

Really, I-- I meant no harm.

I just wanted to be taken care of...

for Angela's daughter to take care of me.

Is that so terrible?

When you were suddenly arrested,

the woman decided by herself

to establish Maureen Franklin
as her daughter

by making her story fit the evidence.

Mr. Grove was completely unaware
of what she'd done.

But how did you know that the real
Angela had d*ed in Europe?

We didn't. My contacts in Europe
did find out, however,

that Angela Fernaldi always traveled
around with a nurse, a companion.

And neither of them could ever be located.

And just on that you guessed that--

If Burt Renshaw knew the person he was
going to meet was an imposter,

and Maureen wasn't that imposter,

then who could it have been?

The woman answered that question
herself in court.

And Maureen Franklin didn't have
anything to do with all that?

No.

Now, I think the trust fund
is probably rightfully yours.

but I believe the court will have a hard time
deciding between the two of you,

so perhaps you ought to agree
to divide it.

Oh, I think so, too.

I mean, I'd be happier about that.

Only well, at best it leaves each of us

with just the memory
of half a mother, doesn't it?

My dear, a substitute
is never very satisfactory,

and I'm afraid Mr. Campion and I are
really out of touch with your generation,

but Richard's put up with us
all these years.

Well! I'm afraid I said that rather badly.

No, Mrs. Campion.

I think you said that rather well.