11x09 - m*rder by Twos

[bunniefuu]

Come on. You can do it.
- Come on, Al.

Yeah.

You can do this, Al.

Come on, Al. - This is it.

Focus. Focus.

You got it. You got it.

Yeah!

You bowl like a girl, Al.

Oh, Marie,

that was the best corned beef
and cabbage I've ever had, bar none.

Well, thank you very much.

Best kept secret in Cabot Cove!

I'm afraid I owe
you two an apology.

I wanted this to be an
unexpected dining experience,

an epicurean treat
here in a bowling alley,

but it sounds like
World w*r III in here.

Well, somebody should have warned you that
it was the regional finals, that's all.

You know, I've seen
some familiar faces,

with maybe a few more wrinkles.

But after 10 years in the
city, so much peace and quiet.

Yeah! Come on. Come on, Pete!

Hey, too bad we had to stick it to
you guys, Sam. Better luck next year.

What? Get out of here!

Come on, Sam. Chill out.

Yeah, well, get
him out of my face.

It's only a game.

Led by Mike Webbel...

All the way around. Cabot
Cove is buying for Biddeford.

Well, you got it, Al.

Evening, Doctor, Mrs. Fletcher.

Al. Oh, Al, this is Imogene...

Oh, Miss Imogene Shaughnessy.

Your houseguest from
New York? It's a small town.

He's on the dinner program that I
told you about with Seth and me.

Oh, the Fine Arts Club.

Here for long, Miss Shaughnessy?

Actually, I'm
returning for good.

Which means that
she's house hunting.

Oh, well, I'll get the word out.

I gather you boys couldn't
put it together tonight, Al.

Uh, mostly my end, I
guess. I lost concentration.

Miss Shaughnessy,
evening, everybody.

Can't blame Al too much. Couple of
weeks ago, he lost his pharmacy in a fire.

Ready to break. We
have... Hi, Harvey. Hey.

Oh, Al.

We lost today I guess, huh?

It shows, huh?

Yeah, you and Terry
didn't miss a thing.

Well, I would've been
there, you know, but...

Yeah. Right. I should've
been with you guys.

Full moon, calm
seas, beautiful woman.

Well, Al, flattery will
get you everywhere.

Hey, you never know. Someday.

Well, let's take this
table right over here.

Oh!

Harvey! Are you okay?

That was some kind of
stupid thing to do, Sam!

You gotta watch
where you're going, pal.

Oh, don't "pal" me. You know damn
good and well that was intentional!

Harvey, come on.
Let's get out of here.

My God, was that
who I think it is?

Mmm-hmm. Terry Deauville.

She was teaching at the high
school the year that I left for New York.

Still does, if I'm not mistaken.

She's an occasional
patient of mine.

Oh, Lord, she and I used to...

It didn't occur to me, but that's
the house I'm seeing tomorrow,

her mother's old place up
on Pike's Drive. Mmm-hmm.

Maybe you'll come along?

Sure. I'd like to see the
old Deauville place again.

The Fine Arts Dinner Committee
isn't picking on you, Seth.

But you've had the leadoff
spot for five straight years.

They probably felt it was time
to give somebody else a chance.

All well and good, but
Floyd Bigelow and his flute?

Thank you.

I tell you, he'll put them all to sleep
before they finish their peach cobbler.

No. What we need is a
real rouser to start things off.

I know, like Al
Wallace and his fiddle.

Al does a pretty fair job on
the Flight of the Bumblebee,

but we've all
heard it 100 times.

Now, I have written
an original poem.

It will have their blood
simply coursing, I tell you.

Have you read my
Ode to Literature?

No, I don't believe I have.

Well, I do value your
opinion, you know.

Oh, let's move it.

Hello, Doc, Mrs. Fletcher.

Mr. Bryce, Mrs. Bryce.

Looks like you
could use a trim, Doc.

I've got a chair
ready right now.

Oh, no time, Sam. I'm
afraid I've got to run.

Uh-huh. Sam.

Wish he wasn't the only barber
in town. The man is a butcher.

He's right. You
could use a trim.

He's always fobbing off
newfangled conditioners and lotions.

My follicles can take perfectly
good care of themselves,

thank you very much.

This house seemed so
large when I was little.

Has some really
nice memories for me.

Oh, I remember coming here
one Christmas Eve with Frank,

and your mother
had a string trio

playing carols up
there on the landing.

Oh, it's really quite lovely.

Do you mind if I just, uh...

Of course. Look around.
Any questions, just ask.

Jessica.

So, how's the teaching going?

The year I left, you'd just won

the State's Best Science
and Math’s Teachers Awards.

Yes, well, I still have those
subjects, plus something new.

Domestic science.

Oh, yes. Everything
the kids need to know

about running their
own households, huh?

From diapering to rewiring.

Even plumbing.
The whole shebang.

I'm trying to apply
what I've learned here.

Tell you the truth, I'd
rather be diapering.

Oh. And?

Well, what is it they say? All of the
most eligible men are already married.

Or they're like Harvey Hoffman.

You know, the man
that I was with last night.

A very good-natured man,
but beyond that, nothing.

Anyway, you know, I think I'm pulling
up stakes, try my luck somewhere else.

Maybe New York City.

Well, if you get serious
about that, let me know

because I might be able to help.

You really think so? Sure.

Excuse me, Jessica.

Hello?

No, Sam, I cannot.

No. I can't.

It's an absolute gem.

More than enough room. And with
the upgrading that she's talked about,

it's going to be fabulous.

It's over, Sam.

I didn't hear from you.

No, I didn't know what to think.

No, I can't.

So, what do you think, Imogene?

It's really lovely and
I'm quite tempted, Terry.

Good morning, Miss
Deauville, Mrs. Fletcher.

Medora.

Ms. Finney, this is Imogene...

I know who she is. I live
next door, Mrs. Shaughnessy.

You fixing on buying this place?

It's "miss," and I hadn't
come to any conclusions yet.

Well, it is kind of
roomy for a single lady,

unless you like a lot of
late-night partying like some folks.

But the last people were very
quiet and very settled. Yes.

Yes, well, very nice
meeting you, Ms. Finney.

Uh, I'm gonna be late for
that other appointment. Yes.

Bye-bye.

Miss Deauville.

Who is it?

I said, who is it?

Surprise.

For heaven's sake, Sam, stop it.

Not till you take back
what you said on the phone.

Besides, nothing's over
till Sam says it's over.

You haven't spoken
to me in weeks.

As far as I'm concerned,
that says everything.

Ah, give me a break, gorgeous.

Besides, I've been busy as hell.

Sure, cutting hair
all night, every night,

and b*ating up harmless
guys like Harvey.

Well, it made me kind of crazy
seeing you and him together.

And Emily's been
on my case, too,

getting suspicious...

Oh, you told me that Emily didn't
mean anything to you anymore.

We were gonna leave Cabot
Cove together, remember?

It's over, Sam.
Get the hell out.

And what was I gonna do?

Just up and walk out on her? I mean,
where did you get such a stupid idea?

From you! God, I was stupid.

But you lied to me,
you manipulated me...

Are you telling me you didn't
feel the same way that I did!

This doesn't have to
be over. Come here!

Come here!

Stop it! You get out!

Stay out of my life!

I don't want to see you or
hear from you again! I mean it!

And if you ever come near
me, so help me, I'll k*ll you!

Say it again, Ollie.

I want to marry you, Gloria.

Oh.

You can say that 100 times.

I'd never get
sick of hearing it.

But, you know, I can't
leave Mom right now.

Right. Right.

When's she gonna nail that
creep and get a life of her own?

You know that isn't it.

Your dad wants you to land some
guy who's got more of a future than me.

But yours is the one I want.

Sam.

How's it going?

Go a hell of a lot better if
you got Gloria in before 12:30.

She's got a job, remember?

Uh, we just got to talking, Pa.

Glo, it's okay. I'll call you.

You didn't have to be so rude.

Watch your mouth.

You think I spend my good money
sending you to that computer school

so you end up with
a loser like him?

Oh, God! Well, take a
good look at yourself, Pa!

You stink of booze,
got lipstick all over you.

You really think that some Prince
Charming is gonna marry into this family?

Well, I read your Ode to
Literature last night, Seth,

and I think it's the best
poem you've ever written.

You did? You do?

Find me another one like
him, Si. Think that'll do it.

Thank you, Doctor.

So, then you see
why I should have

the leadoff spot
again this year.

It's a real rouser, all right.

Whoa! Slow down, Sam.

Sam, you're gonna wipe out
half the block driving like that.

Where the hell's my saber saw
you were gonna return last night?

Yeah. Calm down.
I'll get it for you.

Well, make it fast, Ron.
I'm losing business here.

Those will do just fine, Si.

Yeah, see you at
the game tonight.

No you won't, pal.

Mort tells me Ron called the
station first thing this morning.

Someone broke into
his shop last night.

He must have some pretty
valuable equipment in there.

Mort says that's the strange
thing about it. Nothing was stolen.

Oh, your threes
don't scare me, Ollie.

I'll see you and I'll
raise you half a buck.

Call.

Look at that piddly pot.

You can't play poker with
five guys. Bet's to you, Ollie.

So, what was Sam's problem?

A buck.

I don't know. He was
ticked off about something.

What else is new? Who needs
him and his temper, anyway?

Well, you know what that
was all about last night, Harv.

Terry Deauville is
nothing but trouble.

Oh? Now, I didn't hear you
had occasion to know that, Al.

Now, I doubt if there's
any one of you guys

who at one time or another
didn't, you know, think about it.

But you all know damn
well that's all there was to it.

Now, let's play cards.

Get that for me, will you, Harv?

Hello?

Yeah. Let me speak
to Ron. It's Sam.

Ron, it's for you.
It's Sam Bryce.

Yeah. Speak of the devil.

Hey, Sam.

What the hell did you do to
my saw? Now it's not working.

I didn't do anything
to your stupid saw.

It must be the power
source. Check the outlet.

There's nothing
wrong with the plug.

Yeah, well, you got two there,
don't you? Try the other one, genius.

It's to you.

Doesn't make sense, Mrs. F.

Sam was doing something that
nobody in their right mind does

when they're
handling a power tool.

Now he knew something
about electricity,

and yet there he
was in a pool of water,

holding the equipment
in both hands.

Mmm-hmm. Creating a
circuit through his body.

He must have used that saw and
that outlet many, many times before.

Sheriff, I think you
should follow your instincts

and have Portland Forensics
check some of this out.

Andy, get a few more sh*ts
from over here, will you?

Jess, I've got patients waiting.

Could we pay our condolences
and then skedaddle?

Okay. Okay.

Jessica, please!

I'm coming, I'm coming.

Yeah, how you
feeling, sweetheart?

Yeah, I just got
back from the funeral.

Everybody there
sent you their best.

Hmm? What was Amanda wearing?

Well, let's see, she was wearing
some kind of a peach thing

with yellow thingamajigs
all over her sleeves.

Adele, Mr. Blackwell, I'm not.

Honey, Andy just came
back from Portland.

I'm gonna have... Yeah, I love
you, too, sweetheart. Later on.

Sheriff Metzger,

somebody broke into my
house during the Bryce funeral.

Oh, I'm sorry about
that, Ms. Finney.

Was anything of value taken?

I keep a journal,

something personal and special
to myself, and it was taken.

Huh? Are you telling me that

somebody broke into your
house and stole your diary?

Now, why would
anybody wanna do that?

Well, let's just say that it
was more than a diary, Sheriff.

It's my own special record of
certain people, of things that go on.

It had my observation
about Sam Bryce's m*rder.

m*rder? It was an accident.

In your book, maybe, but
it's all there in my journal.

The fight that Sam Bryce
and Terry Deauville had

the night before
Sam was m*rder*d.

I mean, she wasn't
at the funeral.

It doesn't take a genius to figure
out who broke into my house!

Now, hold it right
there, Ms. Finney.

The break-in goes on the report,

but Judge Bailey isn't
gonna issue me warrants

to search every house in
Cabot Cove for your diary.

And second, you're making some very serious
accusations against Terry Deauville.

"Thou who takes thy sword
and slays thy neighbor dead

"shall shrivel and
die and burn in hell."

Ms. Finney, if you don't want
Terry Deauville to sue you for libel,

if I were you, I would keep
my accusations to myself.

Hmm. Well, I see how you tend

to the needs of the honest,
God-fearing citizens of Cabot Cove.

Good day, Ms. Finney.

Wipe that smile
off your face, Andy.

Portland Forensics said
that the electrical outlet

in Sam's garage had been
intentionally disconnected.

And they checked the second plug
and found that the wire had been cut,

the ground wire.

So, if a hot wire
had been rigged

to touch the metal
casing of the saw itself...

According to Portland, it was.

And Sam became the ground.

This might have something to do
with the break-in at Ron Friendly's.

Yeah. But plus, they're pretty
sure that the leak in the water cooler

was due to
intentional puncturing.

Now these are the readouts on those
fingerprints we lifted from the garage.

Sam's, naturally.

Uh-huh.

There's Gloria, Emily.

Yeah.

And this one you're
not gonna like too much.

I don't believe it,
Terry Deauville.

Maybe it's all the fresh air
or maybe it's the funerals,

but either way, I end
up with a huge appetite.

Well, I like to think
that it's the fresh air.

I could hardly sit through
that church service,

what with Medora Finney
and her coven of biddies

whispering through
the whole thing.

I couldn't help
but hear it, either.

I mean, it was all about Sam Bryce's
alleged affair with Terry Deauville.

Oh.

Oh, my goodness.

Mrs. Fletcher, Dr. Hazlitt.

I'm sorry about the mess. The
dumpster's due in a few minutes.

When do you get to
start rebuilding, Al?

Talk to the insurance company.

It's been three weeks and
the adjuster's coming today.

Well, if you'll excuse me,
I've got a lot of work to do.

As if the fire wasn't enough,

there's a new discount
outfit on the county line

that has put the kibosh on
most of his regular business.

Oh, dear.

You girls relax and take it easy.
I'll make some instant coffee.

All right. You need a hand?

No, no. Leave it to me.

Thank you.

I thought Dr. Wilson's sermon
was just right, didn't you, Ma?

The flowers were beautiful.

I never knew Pa
had so many friends.

Ma?

Glo? Where do
you keep the sugar?

In the cupboard
above the fridge.

Oh, Ollie, don't
look so shocked.

We just wanna make sure

that good old Sam is really
dead and buried, that's all.

Don't stand there like a
dummy. Give us a hand.

You gave us permission
to search your apartment

and my deputies found
this in your desk drawer.

Well, I have no
idea how it got there.

And what would I be doing
with this woman's book anyway?

It has an account of a fight
you had with Sam Bryce

the night before
he was m*rder*d.

Sheriff, for heaven's sakes, Terry wouldn't
risk jail to steal something like that.

Mrs. F, don't you have an
appointment or something?

No.

Okay. So, how do you
explain your fingerprints

being all over Sam
Bryce's garage?

Well, before Sam and
Emily went away last month,

Sam asked me to
help him on their boat.

Okay, so how do you
explain these electrical

diagrams we also
found in your place?

Nobody rigs a circuit like that
unless they're trying to k*ll somebody.

Sheriff, they're marked
with skulls and crossbones.

That is to show my kids
exactly what not to do.

Maybe Sam Bryce
should've taken your course.

Andy.

I'll have one of my deputies
drive you back to your car.

Thank you. Goodbye, Jessica.

Goodbye.

Well, we're all gonna
miss our good buddy,

but, well, we all grew
up with the creep.

But we just have to be honest
with ourselves about Sam.

Yeah, I guess Sam
was a little mean to us.

Look what he did the other
night to you, Harv, out of the blue.

Here's to you, Sam,
may you rest in peace.

But do us a favor, stay away!

And what's eating you?

I don't like speaking
ill of the dead, that's all.

Aw, don't give me that! You
telling me he didn't get to you,

him always going on about you
not being good enough for Gloria?

He's dead, Ron.

I gotta go.

Oh, me, too.

Yeah. Well, I guess
it's about that time, Ron.

Oh, let me finish my beer,
damn it. I wanna talk to you.

Ollie didn't understand.

Oh, of course he
didn't. He wasn't around.

See, he's too young to know
Sam the way we knew him.

You got it. And there
wasn't a one of us didn't have

a good enough reason
to bop him, either.

Well, I'm not sure I
agree with you there, Ron.

Yeah, well, what about that
condo deal you and Sam were in on,

the one he wasn't telling
Emily anything about?

What do you know about that?
That was between Sam and me.

He told me it takes a real
lamebrain to trust a friend

with 25,000 bucks
without a piece of paper.

You know what?

I'm going to forget this
conversation ever took place.

Sure. But there's a
widow and a daughter

who are gonna wanna know
what Sam did with the money

he'd squirreled
away for a rainy day.

And Emily and Gloria and even Sheriff
Metzger aren't gonna find out about it

unless somebody tells them!

I can't imagine
what the problem is.

Terry accepted my offer.

She said she'd be
calling here by 8:00.

We were gonna meet so I
could give her a deposit check,

and now the operator says
the phone's off the hook.

Are you sure you didn't
get your signals crossed?

It's 9:00.

Maybe she's expecting you
to meet her out at the house.

Hmm.

Not that I remember.

Oh, Jess, I'd just hate it if
she's found another buyer.

Well, we both need
a spot of fresh air.

I'll grab my coat and
we'll drive out there.

Probably find
her waiting for us.

Great!

Hello, anybody home?

Oh, Terry. Terry.

Far as I can gather,
after cursory examination,

death was caused by
asphyxiation due to hanging.

To answer your
question, Sheriff,

I see no reason to think it
was other than self-inflicted,

although, of course, that will
have to be the coroner's call.

Oh, Seth, I simply can't imagine

why Terry would've
taken her own life.

Oh, come on, Mrs. F, you
saw the state she was in

when she left my
office this afternoon.

Well, of course she
was in a state, Sheriff.

You just about accused
her of murdering Sam Bryce.

The evidence says she did.

All circumstantial!

Oh, listen, we've
all got a conscience,

and Terry Deauville's
must've been working overtime.

It's called remorse
for k*lling Sam Bryce.

Plus, she had Medora Finney

and her band of Valkyries
spreading the word.

It must've been
closing in on her, Jess.

Exactly. And that's why I'm writing
this up as a presumed su1c1de until I...

Jessica. Look. Terry
signed my offer on the house.

Well, the sheriff will certainly
want this as evidence, Imogene.

An indication of Terry's state of
mind just before she committed...

Okay, okay, I get
the message, Mrs. F.

I'll have your statements ready
for signature first thing tomorrow.

What is it, Mrs. F?

Oh, nothing, Sheriff.

Nothing that I can put my
finger on at the moment.

Ma's still asleep. We can
spend some time together.

Um, I tried to
call you last night.

You said you'd try and come by.

I got busy. Oh, yeah?

Besides, I tried to reach
you and there was no answer.

Oh, Mr. Telephone Man, you
must've dialed the wrong number.

You hear about Terry Deauville?

Mavis heard from her
boyfriend over at the station.

You know, it sounds ghoulish,

but it's like a terrible load
has been lifted off of me.

You know, first Pa and now her.

Just got so mixed
up about everything.

I love you, Glo.

I want to make a
life for the two of us.

That's all that matters to me.

And there's nothing in
our way anymore, is there?

Ollie? Is that you I'm
hearing down here?

Oh, hi, Mom.

Good heavens, Glo,

is that all you give your
fellow to start out his day?

Now, we have bacon, we
have ham, we have rolls.

Hell, you make it, Mrs.
Bryce, and I guarantee

nothing goes down the disposal.

You know, you're gonna have
to stop calling me Mrs. Bryce

now that we're all
family. It's Emily.

Come on, Glo, give me a hand.

But why would Terry
pull herself together

with a coordinated
blouse and skirt,

nice make-up, and
then k*ll herself?

Well, now, that's something Adele
could probably answer better than me.

Well, I'm sure that
Adele will tell you

it sounds more like Terry was
preparing for a date, not su1c1de.

Did you by any chance check
Terry's answering machine?

Right after you left last night.

There was one message on
it, but it was a lousy connection.

A lot of static. As far
as we could make out,

it was a male voice saying something
about wanting to come over later.

I've asked the phone company

to check all the calls in
to Terry's place last night.

You know, something bothered
me at the house last night.

When Imogene and I went
up to Terry's the first time,

there'd been a delivery
from Hoffman Hardware.

I don't ever recall
any rope being in it.

Maybe it was in a
different part of the house.

Or how about something as
simple as she went out and got it?

Ready to roll, Jessica?

The Fine Arts Dinner
Committee waiteth for no man.

Be right with you, Seth.

Hey, Doc, the guys were wondering if
you'd fill in at the poker game tonight.

You mean take Sam's place?

Yeah. We were gonna cancel
it except Emily insists that

Sam would've wanted the
game to go on as scheduled.

Oh, I don't know. Sitting in a dead
man's chair is not my idea of sport.

Well, I mean, Gloria whipped
up a bunch of pies and cakes...

Well, I suppose I could
do it for Emily's sake.

Only on condition that
you play like a gentleman

and stop bluffing your
way into the big pots.

What? So you can do it instead?

Seth, we've got to
get on our horses.

Well, there's no rush,
the meeting isn't till 12:00.

But I need you to help
me with something first.

Mort, will you see to the doors?

Wait a minute, Mrs. F. What...

Al.

Oh, Miss Shaughnessy.
How's the house hunting going?

I was just now headed
out to look at another one.

And it's not Miss
Shaughnessy. No?

It was Ginny once, but you've
really forgotten, haven't you?

What? I... I'm sorry.

You and I dated.

We were just kids, but
I had the biggest crush.

You're not saying...
Yes! Really.

For about a week and a half, you
were the biggest thing in my life.

Gosh, I'm really
sorry. Oh, no, don't be.

It was the strangest thing
seeing you the other night,

like I'd really come home again.

Well, I can't imagine not
remembering you, Ginny.

At the very least, let me
take you out to dinner.

My weekend's wide open.

I'll call.

Yo, Harv!

Hello, Sheriff.

Just the man I'm looking for.

You wouldn't happen to have your
receipt book with you, would you?

Yeah, sure.

Right here. What's on your mind?

Would you recall a
delivery you might've made

to Terry Deauville
within the last month?

About 15 feet of sail rope?

Let me look, Sheriff.

Now, that's something I thought
you might've remembered.

Hey, I've got customers
on top of customers.

You know, Terry
was refurbishing.

She bought a lot from me
here lately. Oh, oh! Here it is.

Fifteen feet of signet number
nine, braided polyester.

Too bad she had to
use it the way she did.

Well, one of these two is a forgery
'cause these aren't even close.

No way Terry Deauville
signed that receipt, Sheriff.

This isn't Terry
Deauville's signature, Harv.

You got an explanation for that?

Well, of course it isn't.

There was a note under my
door asking me to deliver that rope.

And before I opened that
morning, I ran it out there myself.

Did you see Terry Deauville?

No. No, no one was there,
so I left it by the front door.

And you signed Ms.
Deauville's name.

Hell, no, Sheriff,
that's not a signature.

That's... Look, I wrote
"delivered" and the date.

See, that's my squiggle there.

Ah, yes, I see.

Thanks, Harv. I
was just checking.

Listen, mind if I borrow this?

Um, no. No problem.

Bye, Sheriff.

We'd better be back in time
for the meeting is all I can say.

Alberta Rodney will
be poised on tippy-toe

to bring in the third grade
dance class for a finale.

Now, you can imagine what
that is going to do to the program.

Well, as far as I'm concerned,

it's more important to prove
that you and Mort are wrong

and that Terry Deauville did
not commit su1c1de. Hold that.

Ha! Department of Lost Causes.

Thank you.

Six and a half feet. And how
tall did you say that Terry was?

Oh, last time she
came in for a check-up,

5'8", give or take.

Wait a minute, Terry
couldn't have hanged herself.

Nope. She would've
had to pull herself up

and put her own
head in the noose.

Physically impossible!

Wait till Mort hears about this.

Mort, I just spoke
with Wilbur Yates

over at the county
coroner's office.

He had double-checked
the neck trauma,

but he'd said he could not
find the inverted "V" bruise

normally associated
with a hanging.

But was there a
straight line bruise, Seth?

Ah, yes, at the base
of the neck, posteriorly.

Caused by the pressure
of a k*ller's hands.

Mrs. F, when I
get a free minute,

I'll sit down to that plate of crow
you've been heating up for me.

Mort, whoever put that
note under Harvey's door

wanted to give you the impression
that Terry had purchased that rope.

Right. Knowing Medora
Finney and her friends

had convinced most
people that she k*lled Sam.

Now, on that note, let
me show you something.

Medora Finney's journal.

She always seemed to
turn up where the action was,

like the night that Terry had
a big fight with Sam Bryce.

Hmm, well...

"S.B." Sam Bryce?

"In vicious fight with
T.D." Terry Deauville.

"Mystery, Babylon the
Great, the mother of harlots

"and abominations of the earth."

Revelations 17 or
18, if I remember.

Mort, this proves nothing.

Yeah. Well, check this one out.

The night of the fire at
Al Wallace's pharmacy.

Yeah. Now, Terry Deauville
wasn't involved, but...

Uh-huh. "11:00 p.m., S.B..."

Sam Bryce.

"came out of barbershop with F."

F? Hmm.

"Suddenly a fire in A.W.," Al
Wallace's shop down the block.

"S.B.," Sam, "runs
in to put it out.

"Unsuccessful.

"And the kings of the
earth shall bewail her..."

"When they see the
smoke of her burning."

You have no right to share my
private writings with an outsider, Sheriff.

There you are, Ms. Finney.

If you'll just sign
this release form,

you can take your journal.

There is nothing in
the good book that says

you have to show charity to
a floozy like Terry Deauville.

Floozy?

And what was Medora Finney
doing on Main Street at 11:00

the night of Al Wallace's fire?

If Sam Bryce tried to play
the hero and put out the fire,

the whole town would
have known about it.

You know, he might've set the
fire himself, as a matter of fact.

And who's the "F"
that she refers to?

In both other cases,
she used both initials.

"F" for floozy?

Sheriff. Yeah, Andy.

The phone company said

there were two calls to Terry
Deauville's number. And?

Both from public phones.
One outside the library.

The second, the one
that was on the tape,

came from the Hi-Lo Bar.

The bartender says
he remembers seeing

Ron Friendly making a
phone call about that time.

Excuse us.

Sure, I called Terry Deauville.

Left a message on
her answering machine.

Hey, Frank. Hey, Ron.

That solenoid gives you any more
trouble, you let me know, okay?

Yeah, I will,
Friendly. No problem.

I just wanted to let her know
that I was on her side, that's all.

Okay, so maybe there was
something else on my mind.

Yeah. You went to her
house. You tried to hit on her.

She refused, things got rough,

and somehow it got to the
point where you had to k*ll her.

Oh, come on.

Okay, so I was there, but the lights
were out and the door was locked.

Nobody was home. You
gotta believe me. Please!

I'm trying. Just don't get any
sudden urges to leave Cabot Cove.

You talk to Al Wallace.

He and Sam were into
buying a condo together.

There's a matter of 25 grand Gloria
and Emily would like to know about.

Poke around in the back
of Harvey Hoffman's place,

and you can find
just about anything.

Harvey's grandpa doubled as the town
pharmacist, and with Al Wallace closed,

I've been having to mix some
of my own special remedies.

Oh! And look at this!

Now, my nephew, Simon,
collects antique toys.

A well-preserved horse
and cart, circa 1882.

A horse and cart.

Somebody put the
cart before the horse.

No, they didn't.

Of course! That's the answer.

Answer? Answer to what?

To both murders,
Seth. Sam's and Terry's.

But there's only one m*rder*r,

and that person put the cart
before the horse intentionally,

and I've got to
get 'em to admit it.

Horse? Cart?

Jessica, for once, could you
let me in on your little game?

Well, I'm not sure, but I
think it'll require bluffing.

Come on, we've
got to talk to Mort.

You picked the right man. Bluffing
happens to be the sheriff's specialty.

Okay, Doc. I'll see your four

and I'll raise you.

Ha! There you go bluffing again.

You expect me to believe
you've got a b*llet in the hole?

Well, if you have that much
confidence in those fours,

you bet them.

It's to you, Doc. You're up.

That's right.

Down and dirty, Al.

And there's your last
card, Mort. Down and dirty.

It's a big pot.

Yeah.

Fours bets.

Well, look, Doc, since this is
the last hand of the evening,

why don't I just see you
and raise you the rest?

Wow! Look at all those chips.

Pot's good, gentlemen.
Show me your cards.

Now, did you really think your fours
could stand up against aces over kings?

Sure did.

Huh? RON: Beautiful!

Especially when I realized
that there were four of them.

Oh, Doc!

They say that poker is the
measure of a man's character.

Looks like you're the big
winner tonight, Dr. Hazlitt.

So, Sheriff, I hope you're having
better luck solving Sam's m*rder.

I wish.

Seems like everybody in
town's got a theory on this one.

The latest one from
Mrs. Fletcher is that

the solution's right here
in Sam Bryce's garage.

She said she'd tell me
more about it tomorrow.

Are these what you're
looking for, Mr. Wallace?

Mrs. Fletcher?

Gosh, you gave me such a start.

What in the world would
I want with junk like that?

Well, it's obvious Sam Bryce
didn't think they were junk,

hiding them as he did.

This afternoon I was
reminded of this beaker.

I suddenly made the association

with those others
that you had stacked

in front of your b*rned-out pharmacy
the day of Sam Bryce's funeral.

What you didn't know was that
Medora Finney was on Main Street

the night your pharmacy b*rned.

And she saw Sam
Bryce run inside.

He must have found this

and recognized it as part
of an incendiary device.

Now, Mrs. Fletcher, what would
you know about such things?

Enough to suspect that Sam came
to you and threatened blackmail.

You had a key to this garage, enabling
you to sabotage his electric wiring.

It must have been you who
broke into Ron Friendly's shop

where you rigged
the electric saw.

Here, give me that stuff.

Hold it, Al!

I just had a little chat with
your insurance adjuster.

He suspects arson,

and your prints on those
items ought to clinch it for him.

Okay. I admit it. I
b*rned my place.

I had no choice. I was slowly
going under. I had to get out.

But I never k*lled Sam
Bryce like you're saying.

It's not Sam's m*rder where
you made your mistake.

It was Terry Deauville's.

Terry... Now you're
really losing it.

Even when I knew for a fact

that Terry didn't commit
su1c1de but was m*rder*d,

my error was to continue thinking in
terms of two murders, two murderers,

but there was only one. You, Al.

Because through
some twisted reasoning,

you justified k*lling Terry
Deauville in such a way

that she'd be suspected
of having m*rder*d Sam.

Then out of remorse,
taking her own life.

Which would immediately
close the book on Sam's k*lling.

You stole Medora's journal,
planted it in Terry's apartment.

Then later that night, you
called her from outside the library

and somehow you conned
your way into her house.

Something Dr. Hazlitt said this
afternoon reminded me of your mistake, Al.

You'd made sure

the rope you used to make
Terry's death appear to be su1c1de

was delivered to her
house before Sam's m*rder

and before Terry had any reason to
feel remorse or contemplate su1c1de.

You put the cart
before the horse, Al.

That note you wrote to Harvey,
he pinned it to the receipt.

The forensics guys will
do wonders with that.

You're right. Sam
threatened to reveal the arson.

Oh, that condo deal
you had with Sam.

Don't tell me a note-free 25
grand didn't sweeten it, too.

What in the world made Terry
Deauville so expendable, Al?

Why Terry?

Well, good lord.

Why Terry? Because I
loved her. Always did.

Since clear back
in the 7th grade.

I even told her
then. I wrote her that.

She never remembered.

Terry Deauville was everything I
wanted in a woman, Mrs. Fletcher.

I loved her in so many ways,

but the only man she wanted to
go with was that pig, Sam Bryce,

and I couldn't forgive
either of them for that.

Jess, I suppose you've heard.

Well, yes, Alberta Rodney just
gave me your letter of resignation

from the Fine Arts Club.

Seth, are you sure you want
to do something this drastic?

Absolutely.

With Al Wallace off the program,

they've decided to lead off
with Floyd Bigelow and his flute.

Reciting my ode after that would be
like raising a monument to bad taste.

Well, I am deeply disappointed.

I mean, hearing someone else

speak your words
is not the same as...

Someone else? If I don't read
them, no one's going to read them!

Well, it's too late to take your
ode out of the dinner program.

Besides, it's too nice
and it's too lovely,

I mean, to keep under wraps.

It belongs to all of us.

Besides, Doc, you
don't really have to worry.

I took speech and
drama in high school.

Listen. "Oh, winds
of learning waft now

"on this vestal
student of the arts..."

Mort, stop. Give me
back that resignation.

On second thought, in the
interests of art, of course...