02x02 - Joshua Peabody Died Here... Possibly

[bunniefuu]

Tonight on m*rder, She Wrote.

That's got to be the
remains of Joshua Peabody.

Joshua is a
phantom, a fake hero...

I'm just a cop with a job to do.
I been on this one a long time.

There you go with
the "k*ller" stuff again!

Do you have any idea how he
operates? Shoddy construction,

below-code wiring,
defective materials.

You got something in your
past, it always comes out.

Not me. No way. We
were against v*olence.

My men are here to work.
Why don't you make it

easy on yourself? We're
not movin', Kowalski.

I say you are. No, we're not.

I'm tellin' you, Pierce.
If you don't move those

people out of there, I
will, with that bulldozer.

Kowalski, relax, will ya?

I'll take care of it. I
know these people.

David! David? You're
out of your league.

This isn't some bird sanctuary
that you're tryin' to save.

- This could get ugly.
- It already has.

I guess the fact that it's gonna bring
in tourists and their traveler's checks,

that doesn't appeal to
someone with your lofty ideals?

If it's so great, Harry, why
did you have to sneak it by

the zoning board when half
the members were out of town?

We didn't sneak it.
We had a quorum.

Face it, Harry. The only reason
you're in favor of this turkey...

is because you stand to make a lot of money
out of it and to hell with Cabot Cove!

Listen, you bleeding
heart. This time, you're

sittin' on the wrong
side of the wrong fence!

Now, just hold on, will
ya, fellas? Amos! Amos,

you get Sir Galahad out
of here, or I swear to you...

Look! Down there!

Hmm?

Tell her you want a seat on the very
first available plane to the Bahamas.

You know, it does sound kind
of nice. That's a little more like it.

You lie out in the sun for a
week; you'll be like a new person.

You just take my word for it.
Don't forget to send me a postcard.

I can't turn out placebos
like that fast enough.

Well, put me down
for the next one.

Looks like you threw your
back out again, I suppose.

Never mind.

Went by your place this
morning. Saw the storm windows.

Who did you manage to hire
for that? I said never mind.

I have warned you, Jessica. Seth,
I did not come here for a lecture.

I came for sympathy. I
have got big problems.

Now, look. Arthur is
trapped in the belfry.

His brother Charles is
on his way to the minister.

Alice is in the shower. And
the k*ller is climbing up the stairs.

Exactly how long have
you had these symptoms?

Listen, Seth. If you can tear yourself
loose from killin' off your patients—

Sorry, Mrs. Fletcher— you gotta get over
to Main Street quick, and bring your bag.

- What is it, Amos? An accident?
- I'd rather not say.

Sheriff, I can't keep my men
standing around here all day.

Zip it up, Kowalski. We got more
important things happening here.

Amos— Now, can you tell me
what in the blazes is goin' on?

- Sheriff, I cleared away some
of the dirt.
- Good work, David.

There. That's what's goin' on!

I figure that's got to be the
remains of Joshua Peabody.

Joshua Peabody? Yeah. Cabot Cove's
most famous revolutionary w*r hero.

Are you out of your mind?

Hold it. Hold it. Whoa, whoa.
Where do you think you're goin'?

Well, I'm gonna go down, take
a closer look. With your back?

They'd have to haul
you out with the crane. I

will examine the
remains, if you don't mind.

Someone get me some white
paint. Now, everybody stand back.

Now, you be careful
not to disturb any clues.

Sheriff? Sheriff?

Thanks, David. We
got to do this proper.

Oh, I don't believe this.

How long do you think
he's been down there?

Well, I haven't got the faintest,
but I can tell you one thing.

These are not the remains of Joshua
Peabody, because as any fool knows,

there is no Joshua Peabody.

Now, Pierce, you told Wheatley
you were gonna iron out

all the problems, but I don't
see the equipment moving.

How the hell did I know this
was gonna happen? Huh?

All right. All right.
I'll talk to 'em.

As I recall, Seth,

the existence of Joshua
Peabody is still in dispute.

Jessica, there's not one shred of
evidence that the man ever lived at all.

It's just old wives'
tales and tall stories.

Tall stories? It's history.

Listen, if you people
wanna argue...

over those bones, just get 'em out of there
so they can go on with the construction.

Would you take a
look at that, please?

This hole? Well, it's too
big to be a musket ball.

Oh, he must have taken a tremendous
blow with a very heavy object.

- I expect that's what k*lled him.
- Yep. Battle of Cabot Cove, 1 779.

Joshua Peabody struck down in
heroic combat by a redcoat r*fle butt.

Speaking of butts, Amos,
yours is gonna be in a lot of

trouble if you keep these
people waitin' much longer!

Time is money, and
their meter is running!

- Well, I know, but still— - There
is another possibility, of course.

I mean, this man, whoever he
was, he could've been m*rder*d.

- m*rder*d?
- I mean, this could be the site
of a homicide.

I'm not sure that anything
should be disturbed, Amos.

That's right. Good
point, Mrs. Fletcher.

Sorry, Harry. Your bunch
is gonna have to wait.

- Amos, do you know
what you're doing?
- Yeah. My sworn duty.

Hello! I'm home! Hey, Dad, is that
really Joshua Peabody's body they found?

I don't know, Son. Ow!

Just in case you're interested, Eric
was sent home from school early...

for fighting again
in the classroom.

Not in the classroom. In the
gym. This kid called Dad a jerk.

And he said his dad called you a
Don "Quick-sotee." What's that mean?

It's Don Quixote, and he was...

Well, he was a person
who att*cked windmills.

- Windmills?
- Oh, David,

couldn't you have
stayed out of it just once?

Cabot Cove Antiques. Hello.

Jessica. Sure. How can I help?

Well, it's inscribed
"Phelps and Handley,

Liverpool."

Really? Oh, thank you, David.

Well, be sure to give
my best to Matty and Eric.

Thanks. Bye-bye.

Well, he said he'd be delighted to
come over and take a look at the uniform,

and that this musket was
issued for the first time...

to the British Army in 1762.

Aha. I rest my case. Look, whether
he is or he isn’t Joshua Peabody,

you can't just stop the world.

Harry, if that God-awful skyscraper
of yours is delayed a couple of days,

it's not going to be
a national tragedy.

That's another thing,
Amos. This guy's been dead,

what, 200 and some years, right?

Who cares if it was
m*rder or what?

Oh, but it could've
been much more recent.

Harry, you remember
when we used...

to hold those annual re-creations
of the Battle of Cabot Cove.

He could've been one of
those make-believe militiamen.

That's right. Up until about
10 years ago, wasn't it?

Twelve. Our good neighbors
had the wisdom to vote it

down because it brought
too much business into town.

Look. I'm warning you,
Amos. Every hour you

keep those workers
sitting on their hands,

you personally are costing
Wheatley Construction...

thousands and
thousands of dollars.

- It is your job
to protect free enterprise.
- I see what you mean, but...

There could be much more
evidence in the excavation...

that could point to the k*ller.

That's right, Mrs.
Fletcher. There sure could.

There you go with
the "k*ller" stuff again!

All right, now, Harry.
That is enough.

Now, that place is a
possible m*rder site,

not to mention maybe
even a historical shrine.

And they're not gonna
move one shovelful of dirt...

until my investigation is over
and done with, and that's final.

But...

All right. All right.
You have it your way.

But as soon as Henderson
Wheatley shows up,

I guarantee ya, you'll
whistle a different tune.

Damn hotel.

Seems to be splittin'
this town apart. Yes.

No matter what happens, I wonder if Cabot
Cove will ever be quite the same again.

The best you can do,
Pierce? What happened?

Well, uh, there's this,
uh, agitator, David Marsh.

He called a meeting,
stirred everyone up,

and then that damn skeleton
was bulldozed up out of the ground.

Obviously the both of you are
not worth the money I'm paying you.

Now, hold it. You know, the real problem's
not the skeleton or that picket line.

I would've been two
days ahead of time if that

equipment of yours
wasn't in such lousy shape.

I mean, I lost a
backhoe for 24 hours.

Still running the same quality
operation, Mr. Wheatley?

Miss Scott. Tell me.

Why is it every time
I'm putting up another

building, I find your
microphone in my face?

Are you some sort of expert
on high-rise construction?

No. No, I specialize in crooks.

Now, hold on, young lady.
As Mr. Wheatley's attorney—

It looks like your client
hasn't been able to buy off

these down-easters as
easily as the big-city folk.

Not all of them anyway.

Hey, now, look— Del Scott.

You have a suite and two
singles reserved for us. Thank you.

Call the network and
tell them to get rid of her.

It won't be that easy.
She's very popular.

She gets good ratings. Get a
handle on it, but get it done... now.

Harry Pierce.

You made a mistake. No, no, no. He fits the
bill. He's local real estate and hungry.

Look. The man's a jellyfish.

Sometimes jellyfish work harder,
and this one, he's real hungry.

If he can't control these
people, he's out! All right.

Get a court order to resume
work. And I want it by noon.

Mrs. Fletcher. Yes?

Mrs. Jessica Fletcher. Yes.

I thought I recognized
you. I'm sorry. I don't...

Oh, um, excuse me. Del Scott,
N.E.T. News. Oh, yes. Of course.

I've seen you on my
TV set dozens of times.

This is an unexpected
pleasure. That's nice to

hear. I don't get that
reaction from everyone.

I'm here covering Henderson
Wheatley's latest controversial enterprise.

I would like your opinion.
My opinion? Why?

Well, you're Cabot Cove's most famous
citizen. For my books, not my opinions.

Anyway, this is a town matter. It's
hardly a subject of national interest.

You strike me as a person
who fights for what she believes.

Now, wouldn't you
like the opportunity to

speak out? Oh, I have
spoken out, Miss Scott,

both here and in
the state capitol.

A number of us have. But we'd just as
soon our town not become a subject...

of dinner-table amusement.

That's a noble
sentiment, but a little

naive. If you try to stop
Henderson Wheatley,

I promise he won't
collapse quietly. Mm.

You don't seem to have much use for
the gentleman. Does it show that much?

Familiarity with Wheatley
does breed contempt.

I've been watching him ever since
I did the weather back in Pittsburgh.

Do you have any idea how he operates?
Shoddy construction, below-code wiring,

defective materials,
kickbacks...

The man is a menace. Yes, but
surely, if you could prove all that...

If I could, he'd have
been in jail a long time ago.

Am I changing your
mind? Well, I'm afraid not.

Why don't you try somebody
a little more intelligent

and eloquent on the
subject, like David Marsh.

He's our environmental activist.
I tried Mr. Marsh, but he passed.

He even asked that
we not videotape him out

at the construction
site, but he was too late.

The fella you found ain't
Joshua Peabody, Amos.

Sarah here figured it out, Sheriff.
Bones in the grave belong to Uriah Pickett.

- Who?
- That farmer from over
at the Blue Hill.

Disappeared about 14
years ago come April.

Same time as the
annual fightin', as I recall.

Uriah didn't disappear; he ran off to
Portland with that red-haired manicurist...

who used to work
for Thelma Hatcher.

Sheriff Tupper?

Ellsworth Buffum
from Kennebunkport.

Vice president of the
Joshua Peabody Society.

- The what?
- The Joshua Peabody Society.

I am here to take possession of
the last remains of Joshua Peabody.

- I trust they are— -
You wait just one minute.

We don't know they're
him. I mean, officially...

Excuse me.

Sheriff Amos Tupper speaking.

You don't say?
I'll be right down.

Trouble. Have to talk
to you later, Mr. Buffing.

Buffum.

We're sorry this is
costing you money,

mister, but your building
doesn't belong here.

I said start your engine!

We're lucky if any
of this stuff runs.

Look. My men are here to work.
Why don't you make it easy on yourself?

We're not movin',
Kowalski. I say you are.

We're not. Don't take that!

Just a moment. There's
no need for v*olence.

Lady... why don’t
you stay out of this?

I'm afraid not, Mr. Wheatley.
Now, see here, Mr. Wheatley.

I'm the town sheriff,
and you're in violation...

We're in violation of nothing, Sheriff.
It's a court order issued an hour ago.

It permits us to resume construction
immediately. You heard him.

Why don't you do your job?
Move these people out of here.

What are you waiting for?

You want me to
run this guy over?

I suggest you read this.

H.L., this is an injunction...

stopping all work until a
historical examination is completed.

- What?
- It overrides our court order.

I don't believe this. What
kind of a jerkwater town is this?

A town that knows how to take
care of itself, Mr., uh, Wheatley.

Hear, hear.

- Smells wonderful, Seth.

- Always smells better in
someone else's kitchen.

Mine is a mess. You know, it'd
taste better with a little less basil.

Basil? There's no basil in there.
Rosemary, marjoram, tarragon,

thyme, perhaps a pinch of sage.

No basil. I learned a
new opening gambit.

I hope you're prepared
to be humiliated. Ha!

That, Mrs. Fletcher,
will be the day. I can't

remember the last time
you beat me at chess.

Does Monday ring any bells?

I wish you'd get a decent corkscrew
in this place. Works perfectly well...

- if you know how to use it.
- Yeah.

Well, I guess you didn't find anything at
town records about Joshua Peabody, did ya?

Are you so sure?
Well, if you had,

the last thing we would be
talking about is basil, chess...

and my ability with a corkscrew.

Uh-huh. I was so sure
that I'd find something;

some little detail would
prove that he existed.

Jessica, Joshua is a phantom,

a fake hero made up by some,
oh, fever-brained colonial patriot,

probably one of Harry
Pierce's ancestors.

You smell something
burning? My biscuits!

Ooh! My back!

You had to bend over, didn't
you? Can you stand up? No.

All right. Now, Jess, you've got to promise
me you'll never tell anyone I did this.

That is wonderful. You okay?

Yeah. I'm fine. Thank you, Seth. I
never knew you were a witch doctor.

Ooh, the biscuits! Oh, yeah.

I hope you like them well done.

Speaking of bones— I
was speaking of biscuits.

What did you find, Seth? Oh,
pretty much what you might expect.

He had a bad back, a lot like
yours. Fourth and fifth vertebrae.

I expect he tried to put up his
own storm windows. Mm-hmm.

And? Oh, yes. And
young Marsh, David,

gave me this piece of paper that he found
in what was left of the old boy's uniform.

"Passage for J.P."...

I had to pry this out of you.

Well, it doesn't prove
anything. Here. You ready for

dinner? It may not prove
anything in a court of law,

but this, with a
200-year-old skeleton...

We do not know that. Ooh, hey.

Are you ready?
This is your favorite.

Seven-layer cake.

Layers. That's it, Seth.

- Layers?
- Yeah. In the excavation, underneath
where we found the skeleton,

that's how I'm gonna
prove that I'm right.

Seth and I argued
almost until midnight.

What I wanna do, you
see, is to dig directly

underneath where
we found the skeleton.

Then, if we find an artifact over 200 years
old or, oh, a pottery shard or anything,

then we'll know he
could've been there that long.

Amos, you seem
awfully sleepy. Oughta be.

When it started to rain
around 2:00 this morning,

I came and tarped
over the m*rder scene.

Wouldn't want any evidence washed
away. That was good thinking, Amos,

and I'm sorry about
your lack of sleep.

But I think we should
get at this right away,

because if Mr. Wheatley's
court order...

supersedes Mr. Buffum's, we might
never learn the truth about these remains.

Now, I would do this, but Seth'll
have a fit if I put my back out again.

I just hope we don't
find a pop bottle down

there. He'll never let
me hear the end of it.

Seems like we're
startin' a collection.

My best guess is he died
about, oh, 4:00 or 5:00 a.m.

Apparently shot at close
range. Heart. Died instantly.

His car's here.
Must've driven over from

the inn sometime before
sunup. I wonder why.

Well, either he had a late-night
desire to see the construction site,

or he was gonna
meet someone here.

Yeah. His k*ller. Well, Kowalski
keeps his motor home on the premises.

Better have a talk with
him in case he saw anything.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Now that we have a second
body of more recent vintage,

could I talk you into
making a statement?

Well, thank you, Miss Scott, but I leave
those sort of things to the professionals.

I'd have thought after six

mystery novels, you'd
lost your amateur standing.

Sheriff Tupper,

would you mind answering a
few questions for the camera?

Oh, well, I don't
know what I could say,

but I suppose I could
spare a minute or

two, Miss Scott, of my
professional opinion.

I thought you were in such an
all-fired hurry to question somebody.

Would you describe your
feelings when you removed

the tarp and discovered
Mr. Wheatley's body?

You knew what was going
on here. You knew the

whole scam. Now, I'm the
attorney on this corporation.

You'll get not one dime from me.

Aww. This is just terrible.

A man has hopes and
dreams and aspirations.

It just isn't fair that
they end up like this.

I never knew you were so fond of
Mr. Wheatley. I'm talking about me.

Harry, you make it sound
as if your life depended on it.

There it is. There what is?

Mr. Wheatley's tie clasp. So?

You sure it was Wheatley's? Well,
it sure wasn't Joshua Peabody's.

What do you figure it was
doin' there, Mrs. Fletcher?

I'd say it probably fell off of
him when he was being carried...

to the excavation.

You mean he was
k*lled first? I believe so,

but the question is, why
did the m*rder*r bother?

I mean, why not just
leave the body where it fell?

Okay. So he was shot where
you found the tie clasp, right?

No. Somebody would've heard the
g*nf*re. I believe he was k*lled elsewhere.

And carried there. Sure.

And the tie clasp fell off while
they were carrying it past the shed.

That makes sense. All right.

Then the k*ller must've
been pretty strong.

I mean, that Wheatley, he
weighed about, oh, 175 pounds.

So let's see now. We got Kowalski.
We got Harry Pierce, that lawyer, uh...

Griswold. Right.
All pretty hefty.

All those construction
workers and David Marsh.

It's just too bad the rain
washed away all those footprints.

- We might've gotten some good ones.
- Or tire tracks.

Say again, Mrs. Fletcher.

Actually, a tire track...
from a wheelbarrow.

There were several of them
stacked right here, by this shed.

The rain washed those tracks away too.
What still doesn't make any sense is why.

Why was the body placed
in that particular spot?

Lady, you're trespassing.

Oh, dear. I feel so silly.

I was just looking around. You
know, female curiosity, I suppose.

Oh, dear. I am so
embarrassed. If you ask me,

you've got a whole
town full of screwballs.

Oh, Mr. Kowalski, how terrible! You've
cut your hand. Don't worry about it.

Oh, but with the work you do—I
mean, this is never gonna heal.

It's gonna be okay. Ooh, look
at it. Ooh, that filthy bandage.

I do think that Dr. Hazlitt oughta
take a look at it. He'll know...

It's gonna be okay, believe
me. I'll put a clean hankie on it.

Now, I've got work to do. Could you
let me do it? Oh, yes. I'm sure you do.

I won't bother you anymore. Now, you
promise. You be sure to take care of that.

I promise.

- Amos.
- Hello, Austin. How's the missus?

Oh, still puttin' one
foot in front of t'other.

Listen, Amos, there's something
that I think I ought to tell ya...

that I don't really want to tell
ya, if you know what I mean.

I, uh—no, not exactly.

- You can't say that about my dad!
- Eric!

Eric, Billy, stop that!

Stop that, boys! What are you
doing? Cut it out. Hey, boys! Boys!

Come on, Eric. Eric.
Break it up now. Come on.

Stop that! Eric!
Stop that, Eric Marsh!

That figures. Don't
you have anything

better to do than run
around picking fights?

Me? He started it,
calling my dad names.

Well, I can understand that.

Eric! Hey, knock it off!

- Eric, you stop that!
- Eric. Eric.

Stop! I told you. I
don't want you fighting.

I'm glad to see someone in your family
has a sense of responsibility, Mrs. Marsh.

You, talking about responsibility?
Harry, you are a disgrace to this town.

Matty, please.

Jessica, thanks for
helping. David Marsh?

Yes? F.B.I. Special
Agent Fred Keller.

I have a warrant for
your arrest, Mr. Marsh,

or more properly, Daniel Martin.

- Surely you're mistaken.
- No, ma'am.

We've been after this man for 17
years. Dad, what's he talkin' about?

Wait a minute! Daniel Martin!

Yeah! That nutcase Vietnam
protestor? And you're him?

Boy, does that ever figure.

All right. Let's go. You've
got the wrong man, mister.

Just a minute.
What's goin' on here?

Fred Keller, F.B.I. Sheriff,
this man is my prisoner.

Interstate flight to avoid
prosecution, conspiracy, sedition...

and destroying federal
property and endangering lives.

He bombed the federal courthouse
in Philadelphia 14 years ago.

- Shortly after,
he escaped federal custody.
- No. You're crazy.

David? Well, under the circumstances,
I guess I shouldn't be surprised.

Sorry, Mr. Keller. He's
my prisoner. I'm arresting

him for the m*rder of
Henderson Wheatley.

m*rder? - Marsh?

Are you sure? Mm. This
was on Wheatley's desk.

"Skeleton planted
in grave by D.M."

"D.M." David Marsh.

Wheatley must've decided you
engineered it to slow down construction.

Now, I know that's not enough
to convince you, Mrs. Fletcher.

- You're right about that.
- Well, there's more.

Austin Bailey saw David in the
vicinity of the Hill House Inn...

around 4:00 this morning, about the same
time the night manager saw Wheatley go out.

Probably down to the construction
site to check out his theory.

Way I figure it, David, you spotted
him, had words, and you k*lled him.

- That works for me.
- David couldn't have been
anywhere near the excavation.

He was home in bed with me.

Matty— Matty— Matty, don't. I
happened to wake up about 4:00...

I was out walking. I had a lot
on my mind. I couldn't sleep.

I guess I went by the excavation,
but I didn't see Wheatley.

- David, best come along.
- Just a moment, Sheriff.

I have my fugitive warrant.
This man is coming with me.

Sheriff, if you don't
mind, there's something

I’d just as soon put
behind me. Mr. Keller—

Amos, don't you think you
oughta remind David of his rights?

Hmm? Oh-Oh, absolutely.

- David, you have the right
to remain silent.
- And I think that would be a good idea.

Anything you say can and will be
used against you in a court of law.

Madam, I'm not
very happy about this.

Do you think I am, Mr. Keller?
Do you think any of us are?

Daniel Martin in the turbulent

'60s. I suppose
it could be David.

But whether he is or isn't,

I have the feeling he's safer in
our jail than he is in Mr. Keller's.

Good of you to see me, Doctor.

David Marsh is indeed Daniel
Martin, Vietnam protestor...

and if Mr. Marsh did in fact...

m*rder construction tycoon
Henderson Wheatley and...

As I told you, Doctor,

Martin escaped before we
had a chance to fingerprint him.

However, we were able to
obtain his early medical records.

If you compare these
with your records of David

Marsh, we can make
a positive identification.

- Let me see them.
- Certainly.

Mr. Keller, even if you're right
about David, it's been 17 years.

Mrs. Fletcher, we're
talking about a criminal here,

a fugitive who has made
a mockery of our laws.

As I recall, Daniel Martin was involved
only in passive resistance. Passive?

The man who bombed
a federal courthouse?

You have no proof of that,
and, frankly, I don't believe it.

Neither do I. Besides, David has lived an
exemplary life since he came to Cabot Cove.

Look. I'm not here to argue.

I want copies of David
Marsh's medical records.

- No.
- What?

You have a hearing
problem, Keller?

Now, look, folks. I'm
just a cop with a job to do.

I've been on this
one a long time.

I've nailed them all: the
Kingsboro Four, the Kerry Brothers.

Daniel Martin is
the last of them.

Now, anything I
hate, it's a loose end.

I'm using my sick
leave to wrap this up.

My chief at the
bureau thinks I'm crazy,

but the minute I saw David
Marsh on TV carrying that placard,

I knew I had found
Daniel Martin.

So, m*rder charge or no,

with or without your
cooperation, I'm gonna get him.

Seth, I know I'm
right about David.

I know he didn't m*rder
anyone or b*mb any buildings.

Maybe not, but
are you that sure...

he isn't Daniel Martin?

It's difficult to imagine
you as someone else.

For me, too, after 17 years.

You know, back then it just seemed
so necessary to make people listen,

to let them know there
were two sides to the coin.

And who knows? Maybe
some of those stunts we

pulled helped end the
k*lling a little sooner.

- Maybe you're right, but— - The
courthouse bombing? Oh, no. Not me. No way.

We were against v*olence.

I don't suppose it's possible you
could recall where you were that day.

I can hardly remember where I was
last week, but I do know I was living...

Well, hiding— Here
in Cabot Cove.

You certainly picked a
beautiful spot, Mr. Kowalski.

This has always been one
of my favorite places up here.

Oh, yeah.

- Your hand still
giving you trouble, huh?
- No, no. It's fine.

I brought you some salve. Here.

I promise you it'll work
wonders for you. Please. Take it.

Thanks. Thanks a
lot. You're welcome.

Look, why don't you let me
fix it up for you? Why not?

You sure are persistent.

Well, I've been described in
less flattering terms, believe me.

You know, I couldn't
help but notice...

the shabby condition of
Mr. Wheatley's construction equipment.

Could you turn your
hand over? That's right.

Everybody in town has been
talking about his terrible safety record.

Must be difficult working for someone
who has so little regard for the employees.

Yeah. Lousy equipment. How
do you think I hurt my hand?

Could've lost a couple
of fingers on a loose belt,

but I was lucky.

You know how many
guys he's k*lled in the

last 10 years, guys that
were friends of mine?

Bobby Scotto in Pittsburgh.
Harry Pateki in Detroit.

Elevator cable rusted
through, dropped him 32 floors.

- How awful.
- Not one of those guys
should've died.

And Mr. Wheatley was never punished
for this? Not with his connections.

I knew sooner or later
somebody was gonna k*ll him.

It wasn't me.

Not that he sure as
hell didn't deserve it.

- But why did you continue
to work for him?
- I like to eat.

However, on this job,
money's been in short supply.

- And you haven't been paid?
- Not from day one. None of us.

Then Griswold creeps up there
this morning, tells us all to split.

We're not gonna get a
dime for this job, not ever!

I'm sorry. Griswold— You couldn't
tell me where I could find him?

Yeah. Somewhere on
the road between here

and Boston. He was
the first one to cut out.

Say, Mrs. Fletcher, you
were right. Look at this.

That Wheatley owed
money all around town.

How he ever expected
to finish his building...

Yes. Yes, I'm here, Sergeant.

The suspect's name is Arthur
Griswold, male Caucasian,

about 45 or 50.

Well, I don't care how you stop him.
Get him for speeding. Just get him.

Now, hold on. Cindy, give
him the make of the car.

It doesn't make sense.
I mean, assuming that

Wheatley's lawyer
had a reason to k*ll him,

why did he place his body right
in the middle of the excavation?

- He wanted to hide it.
- It was almost like a symbolic gesture.

I don't know about that. I
just wish I had more evidence.

I hear Harry Pierce bought a big
new house on the expectations...

that he's gonna get
rich on that hotel deal.

Some of the construction g*ng, they heard
Wheatley say he was gonna ace him out.

That would've made him
lose face around town,

and about the only thing a
real estate hustler's got is face.

- But aren't you clutching at straws?
- Maybe so.

Just goes to show you, you
got something in your past,

it always comes out, no matter
how hard you try to hide it.

It just doesn't pay to try
and change your name.

- Of course. That's it.
- What?

Thank you, Amos. I can always count on
you. Count on me for what, Mrs. Fletcher?

Amos, there's one more thing you can do
for me. Stop Kowalski from leaving town.

And if he's already
left, bring him back.

Thanks. Thanks so much.

Right.

Seems like these newspaper stories
happened last week instead of 14 years ago.

That is perfect. Thank
you so much, Mavis.

May I make one more call
on your phone? Of course.

I'll get you an
envelope for those.

Miss Del Scott's room,
please. Thank you.

Miss Scott? Jessica Fletcher.

I've reconsidered your kind offer to
make a statement on your news broadcast...

if it's still open.

Oh, good. Well, why don't I meet
you at the construction site in one hour?

Good. Bye.

I can only speak for
myself, Miss Scott, but, yes,

I must confess that I'm very pleased
that the hotel will never be built,

although, of course, I'm sorry
that it cost Mr. Wheatley his life.

Thank you, Mrs. Fletcher. Now
I would like to ask your opinion...

Apparently, he made a number
of enemies over the years,

particularly among the families of
workers who were injured or k*lled...

by the insufficient safety...

Yes. Now, about the Joshua Peabody
controversy— Excuse me, Miss Scott.

- I recall you mentioning
you came from Pittsburgh.
- Yes. That's right. Now, about—

I wonder, are you related
to a Robert Scotto? What?

Mr. Kowalski told me that he was a
young construction worker in Pittsburgh...

who was k*lled working on
one of Mr. Wheatley's projects.

That's right. About
eight years ago.

Cut it, boys.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, but this
has no news value whatsoever.

I phoned the Municipal Hall of
Records in Pittsburgh a short time ago.

They list a younger sister as
one of Robert Scotto's survivors.

Her name is Della Scotto.

Del Scott— Della Scotto.

- I wasn't certain.
- You're wrong, Mrs. Fletcher.

You phoned Mr. Wheatley,
didn’t you, around 4:00 a.m.?

You told him you'd discovered evidence
that the skeleton had been planted here...

by David Marsh in order
to delay construction.

I suspect that Mr. Wheatley probably
scribbled a note to that effect...

and agreed to meet you here so that
you could show him what you’d found.

He must've unlocked the
door so that you could get

in out of the rain, and
once inside, you shot him.

- Look, this is insane.
- Sure. That's why nobody
heard anything.

All right.

Mrs. Fletcher, the part
about my brother— That's true.

Bobby didn't have to die, but Henderson
Wheatley was too damn cheap...

to get the crane fixed, and it
dropped four tons of “I" beam on him.

I'm sorry, child. That's a
tragic vision to carry with you.

Oh, yes. I hated the man.

All right, Mrs.
Fletcher. I loathed him.

But I didn't k*ll him.

- Forgive me, Del, but you did.
- No.

And then you
placed the body in the

excavation. That
seemed symbolic, didn't it?

Putting him in a grave
that he dug for himself.

If you check that
wheelbarrow, Amos,

I think you'll find bloodstains
belonging to Mr. Wheatley.

A t first I thought they
might've come from

Mr. Kowalski, but he
hurt his hand elsewhere.

Mrs. Fletcher, that's a hell of a theory,
but the truth is, you don't have a witness,

a single piece of evidence
that can prove I was involved.

- She's right, Mrs. Fletcher.
- No, Amos. We have her own words.

- My words?
- The evening before the m*rder,
it started to rain.

That's why at about 2:00 a.m.,
Sheriff Tupper came out here...

and covered the area where
the skeleton had been found.

That's right— With
this tarp, but...

When Miss Scott interviewed
you, she asked you—

Could you describe your
feelings when you pulled

back the tarp and discovered
Mr. Wheatley's body?

Now, when you arrived with your
crew, the tarp had already been removed.

You couldn't have
known the grave had been

covered if you hadn't
been here during the night,

at the time you k*lled
Henderson Wheatley.

For years, I tried to nail him,

to gather evidence to
get him sent to prison,

but every time I...
Every time I got close,

he bribed the eyewitnesses...

and suppliers.

He bought them off.

I—I finally
realized... that I...

couldn't fight him
legally and win.

I'm not proud of what
I did, Mrs. Fletcher,

but don't ask me to be sorry.

Honey, don't worry,
please. I'll be all right.

We have to stop by Dr. Hazlitt's
to compare those X-rays.

We saved you a trip, Mr. Keller.
We brought everything here.

- What are you up to now, Mrs. Fletcher?
- Please. Don't do anything
that'll make trouble.

David, will you take Matty and
Eric and wait outside, please?

What's the point? Yes,
yes. Of course. David.

- This is no medical record.
- Very astute observation.

As I told you, David couldn't
have had anything to do...

with bombing the
courthouse in Philadelphia.

That was taken the day before the
bombing right here in Cabot Cove.

He still would've had time to
get to the federal courthouse.

Now, you don't
believe that, Mr. Keller?

Maybe not, but this doesn't
prove he isn't Daniel Martin.

- There's more, Keller.
- I thought there might be.

Look at this. This is also
the Cabot Cove Gazette.

Almost 13 years ago. His
name was Joey Fawcett.

Joey lived in the town about a
year, wouldn't you say so, Seth?

Yeah. He worked at Biddeford's gas
station, kept pretty much to himself.

Now, why do I get the feeling
I know where this is going?

Uh, Joey volunteered...

to play one of the minutemen
that year in our mock battle,

and the last that any of us ever saw of
him, he was running off in full uniform...

with Noah Meecham's
red setter at his heels.

Obviously he must've fallen,
banged his head and died.

Mm-hmm. And then what? The good citizens
of Cabot Cove shoveled dirt over him?

Oh, no accountin' for what
folks around here are libel to do.

And I suppose there are
a dozen people around

here who'll swear
he was Daniel Martin.

Oh, I'd say more like
10 dozen, Mr. Keller.

Well, here. Perhaps
this will convince you.

This is Daniel
Martin's fractured leg.

We took it right from the
skeleton at the excavation.

See for yourself. I mean, compare
your X-rays with that fracture.

Well, there may be one
or two small discrepancies.

After all, Daniel Martin broke
his leg before he was fully grown.

When he was seven years old?

Oh, I'd say those bones have been
underground 13 years at the most.

You know, a man must be pretty

special to have people
willing to stand up...

before an agent of the United
States Department of Justice,

and each of them willing
to risk charges of perjury,

obstruction of justice
and harboring a fugitive.

Not many men
have friends like that.

I don't want you going around
giving black eyes to every kid in town.

Have you got that? Well,
Marsh, I guess I was wrong.

Obviously I've been
pursuing a dead man.

- What does that mean exactly?
- You're off the hook.

David! That's very
gracious of you, Mr. Keller.

Not at all, Mrs. Fletcher.
Whether you believe it

or not, it pleases me
too when justice is done.

Oh, one thing, Dr. Hazlitt. You might
wanna brush up on your anatomy.

That's an arm
bone, not a leg bone.

I didn't think he
was that smart.

Well, at least one good
thing's come out of all this...

Now that we've proved those
bones belong to Daniel Martin,

we can forget all about this
Joshua Peabody nonsense.

Oh, no, Seth Hazlitt, that's
going a little bit too far.