11x10 - m*rder of the Month Club

[bunniefuu]

Well, wish me luck, ol' buddy.

Hey, Stewart, the
law's on your side.

Man, I hope you're right.

It'd be a nice time to see the
good guys win for a change.

Come on, people! Help me!

Anybody seen my script?

How many times do I have
to tell you the same thing?

First of all, get those
trees out of here!

We are going for the talk show
feel, not the forest primeval.

Sara!

Sara.

I managed to
break free for dinner.

Tom, I don't think so.

I told you, it's in work.

Now, look, I'm sorry.

I know. I know.

There just hasn't been,

well, you know, a
good time to tell her.

Okay. Come on, Tom, not here.

Tom, your wife wants
to see you, in her office.

Miss Ogilvie...

Uh, have you got
an extra script?

I seem to have left
mine someplace.

Ah, got it!

All right, has Mr. Hollywood
finally shown up?

Ah, yes. He's in makeup.

He needs makeup to rehearse?

He says the air on the
red-eye fades his suntan.

She's claiming mental
anguish? Oh, please!

Let me tell you something
about mental anguish, Booby.

Between the four or five really
nasty phone calls every day,

and the threats
by fax and e-mail,

I haven't been able
to meditate in weeks.

Hell, I'm so...

I'm so wired up I doubt I could
even get into the lotus position.

Five minutes, okay? Okay.

Sid! Sid, she's having me
followed, for God's sake.

I feel physically threatened!

You should've
signed the prenuptial.

Yeah. Okay, Sid.
You're right! You're right!

You're always right! I
should've signed the prenup.

Okay! You happy now? Yes.

Good! So fix it. That's
what I pay you for.

Sid? Sid!

That's right! Only four easy
payments of 19.95 each,

and the Veggie-nator
will change your life,

letting you show your
love for your family

with fresh, vitamin-packed,
mineral-filled drinks.

Call now. Operators
are standing by...

And that, in a nutshell,
is an infomercial.

One of those beauties you see listed
on the TV page as paid programming.

Figures, doesn't it, Jessica?

It was only a matter of time
before they started peddling books

along with Ginsu knives
and teeth whitener.

Listen, if that replaces those long
cross-country promotional tours,

you won't hear any
argument from me.

Oh, ours is gonna
be a really soft-sell.

Emphasizing all the elements that
make mystery novels so popular and why,

and of course, featuring
the authors themselves.

Even if they aren't
writing anymore.

Well, that sounds
pretty terrific to me.

Want some coffee? It's fresh?

Well, that sounds
pretty terrific to me, too.

You must be very pleased, Larry.

Oh, massively insecure
describes it better, Jessica.

If this thing doesn't play,
the buck stops right here.

And I'm beginning to think the
odds are stacked against me.

Mr. Hartley figured if we included
re-issues of Mat Matthews' old stuff

in the first m*rder
of the Month offering,

well, it might give him...

Impetus to write?

I hope it does.

You know, when Mat
was at the top of his game,

his "old stuff" was
right there in a class

with Raymond Chandler
and Dashiell Hammett.

You've got that right, Jessica.

I practically
teethed on his stuff.

Well, that's why I
was totally floored

when Mr. Hartley asked me to
be a part of this with you and Mat.

Hey, I read Homicide at
the Alexandria Lighthouse.

You have nothing
to be ashamed of.

Thanks. I just hope I
have a second book in me.

I remember feeling
that way after my first.

Really? LARRY: Hey, Ms. Waller,

you've got six more Wonders of the
World to have murders take place in.

You're onto a dynamite
series if ever I saw one.

Thanks!

Not only that, you haven't been home
before 3:00 a.m. in a week and a half.

And do you think if I'd been
there all those evenings,

instead of in the editing room,

it would make any
difference in our relationship?

Look, I gotta go out
to stage floor, okay?

Just a minute.

Perhaps you care to
explain this $450 charge

on your credit
card last Thursday?

The Grand Plaza Hotel?

Oh, man. Irv Hayes,

you know, Mr. Veggie-nator,

he wanted to spend
an extra day in town,

see a musical, show his
wife a good time, okay?

Oh, hi! There you are.

Listen, I just want
to remind you people

that my tailor gets his
own card on the end credits.

And a "Wade Foster's wardrobe
by Lorenzo of Beverly Hills."

Yes, Mr. Foster, I did
notice that on your contract,

but, uh, this isn't a
TV show or a movie.

Hartley Publishing has
authorized us to pay you $50,000

for your appearance
on their infomercial.

Flat. No frills, no fringes.

I'm afraid you'll have
to take it up with them.

Really?

It's so annoying.

Oh, yeah, just one other thing.

I believe my agent talked to
you about beefing up security.

Yes, he did. We've
taken care of it.

Oh, splendid, splendid.

'Cause you know, there's so many
stargazers and nutcases out there.

It's just unbelievable.

You're gonna earn
your money on this one.

Really.

One bad TV movie and
a busted pilot in ten years.

Wouldn't you think it would
bring on at least a hint of humility?

Tom? Yeah?

You can tell your little
friend, Sara, for me

we're gonna not pay
for any more overtime.

Your next book?

Oh! No. No.

It just came in the post from
some woman in Lackawanna.

Funny, you know, Lackawanna
always makes me think of railroads!

Hmm.

And rotten winters
in Lackawanna pines.

Oh, I don't usually read
unsolicited manuscripts,

but, uh, well, the cover
letter sort of grabbed me,

and then I read the first page,

and it's really very impressive.

I hope it holds up.

Hey, where were you?
We're ready to go here!

- Yo, turn it off!

Yeah, give me a mineral
water and ice, would you?

And make sure it's
sodium-free, huh?

Get it yourself.

You don't know who I am, do you?

Haven't the foggiest, pal,

but you do have a definite
flair for mind-reading.

And you're a drunk slob.

Hartley Publishing
Group to Stage B, please.

Mat, uh, Mr. Foster, I think
they're ready for us on the stage.

Mrs. Fletcher!

Well, Detective Henderson.

Oh, and it's Lieutenant
Fogel, isn't it?

Harry, to you, Mrs. Fletcher.

It's been a long time.

I have to tell you, you're
the last person in the world

I expect to find in
this den of commerce.

Are you here on business?

Uh, sort of. Yeah.

Lieutenant Gelber's up in
the Catskills with his wife.

The captain assigned
me to Lieutenant Fogel.

Temporarily.

I usually work alone.

I remember. Something to
do with being an only child.

Yeah.

Well! Henderson, this is where
they make those pretend TV shows

you're so hooked on.

He buys this junk like
it's going out of style.

All they gotta do is tell him how
wonderful it's gonna make his life.

Henderson, come here a
second. Oh, Lieutenant...

Show Mrs... Come on. Show her.

The Veggie-nator.

I gave blood last night for a
vitamin-packed garden salad.

Now can we drop it? Sure.

Actually, I'm here doing a favor
for a friend of mine in Buffalo PD.

They had a homicide up there.

Young fellow by the
name of Stewart Murphy.

Age 26, found strangled in
an alley a couple of nights ago.

It could've been a mugging,
his wallet was missing.

But there are no leads.

Except in the
victim's apartment.

They found "Telesales Inc.
Manhattan" scribbled on a notebook.

Does Murphy ring
a bell with you?

Can't say it does.

Yeah. Well, there's
no reason it should.

He was a single guy.
Worked in a warehouse.

According to his landlady, he
wrote poetry and stories at night.

Didn't you once say that's about
half the people in the United States?

Sometimes it seems that way.

All Hartley Publishing
people, on Stage B, please.

That means me.

I'll call you if anything
leaps to mind.

Oh, please do. Good-bye.

Hey, Lieutenant.

Take a look at that!

That's very funny, Henderson.

And that will be the
end of the first segment.

Now, after you've finished
interviewing the authors,

you'll invite questions
from the audience.

Audience? Whoa!
Hold it, hold it. Time out.

See, guys, I'm a film actor.
I only work on closed sets.

Somebody give me a break.

Wade, it isn't a real audience.

They're extras we've hired. Oh!

I believe the "spontaneous"
questions they'll be asking us

have actually been pre-scripted.

Yes. That's right.

Okay, five minutes, everybody.

Back on the set in five.

We need to hang a light.

That is not what I need.

Uh, Mat. Mr. Matthews, I
don't think that's a great idea.

Yeah? Well, look, kid, judging
from this circus you're running here,

I don't think you're the guy to
tell me what's great and what isn't.

I just hope you've laid
in a little gin and tonic.

I'm the guy who suggested
him to Mr. Hartley.

I mean, what am
I gonna do, Jess?

He could bring this whole
thing down on my head.

Then I suggest you get him to
go easy on the sauce, and fast.

Excuse me. Mr. Foster,

I am such a fan of yours.

Oh, how nice for you.

Sweetheart, will you be an angel
and run my cue cards with me?

Sure.

Uh, wait a minute.
Sara, you wanna get that?

Hey! I need her.

Telesales. Sound stage.

It's for you.

Hi. I'm a friend of Jason Bayer
Saxon. You remember that name?

Yeah. Well, we've gotta meet.

You pick the place. But it's gotta be
soon, and you gotta talk to me, or...

Hello? Hello?

Okay, you want
trouble, you got it.

Hey, Joellen, let me tell
you something, sweetheart.

No matter how hot you get, sooner
or later the public will desert you.

You know my "Nick Hanna" series?

Of course.

Printed in six
different languages.

Waiter! Yes?

Bring me a gin
and tonic. Yes, sir.

Over nine million copies sold.

And if it weren't for our dear old
Ted Hartley's questionable wisdom

up until this week,

all out of print.

Really? Isn't that
unbelievable. Waiter.

I mean, I've always
loved your books.

Oh, wow, it really is,
the three of you together.

I'm sorry. Arnold Wynn.

You won't believe this, but I've read
everything you guys have ever written.

Except for you, Ms. Waller.

I guess you could call me sort
of a m*rder mystery groupie.

Or a masochist. Sit down, kid.

Thanks.

You probably don't
remember me, Mr. Matthews,

but I was in your

mystery-writing
class up in Buffalo.

You gotta be kidding.
I don't recall your face.

But then there's not very
much about Buffalo I do recall.

Well, it was a great class,
and you were real encouraging.

I love this guy!

No, no, no. Two gin and
tonics. I'll buy you a drink.

Oh, no. No thanks. Thank you.

Mrs. Fletcher, I managed to
find this up by Union Square.

It's your first effort.
Would you mind signing it?

Oh! I'd be happy to.

Mr. Matthews, I've
got you in paperback.

But in English.

I just read a great review
of your book, Ms. Waller.

It sounds like a real winner.

But then, 24.95 is a bit
steep for me right now.

Hey, you could get it and two best-selling
mysteries by world-famous authors

for only one dollar

when you join the Hartley
m*rder of the Month Club.

How's my spiel?

Hi, Fran, good to see you again.

Hey. Good to be working.

Arnold Wynn.

Is this your first time with us?

Right there.

Stage B.

Name, please?

Stage B.

Name, please?

Look, Sara...

Gina handles the books, okay?

But I'll see that you get paid,

even if it comes out
of my own pocket.

Tom, this isn't about the money.

This is about how
stupid I have been.

Will you stop? Look,
I care about you,

about us. I really do.

Now you've gotta believe that.

Who the hell are you?

I got lost.

Where does the audience sit?

Stage B.

Right. Sorry.

Tom, I can't.

Oh, for God sakes! Sara...

And, Mat, back when they
decided to do a major movie

based on your hard-boiled
detective character, Nick Hanna,

you have no idea how
badly I wanted that part.

Well... Oh, that's
me, that's me...

"Wade, you would've
made a great Nick Hanna.

"Thank you, Mat.
Jessica, how..."

"Thank you, Mat.
Jessica, how did the k*ller

"commit the m*rder
in your exciting

"Hartley m*rder of the
Month Club selection?"

I'm afraid if I answer that, we
may lose a reason to join the club.

Well, I wonder if our studio
audience has any questions

for our distinguished authors.

Yes, ma'am?

Ms. Waller, I hear that
Hollywood just made you a big offer

for Homicide at the
Alexandria Lighthouse.

Where'd you come up
with such a cool idea?

I didn't write that
question. Shh.

Well, it didn't come
overnight, I can tell you that.

There were about five
years of rejection slips,

and teachers who told
me to "Give it up, girl."

Speaking of which, I
had a lot of time to teach,

'cause I sure as
hell wasn't writing,

except IOUs to bartenders.

Okay, okay. Stop tape.

Look, we're running
into overtime, anyway.

Excuse the audience extras, and
we'll start up again tomorrow. Thank you.

I'm sorry, pal. I won't
be here tomorrow.

Or the next day.

Mr. Matthews, you
have a contract.

Never hold up in court, kid.

It referred to me as an author.

Good night, folks,
that's a wrap. That's it...

What else could go wrong?

Try everything.

Hello, Mat.

The kid call you?

Mmm. You're wasting your time.

In the taxi coming over here,

you know how a
writer's mind works,

all sorts of plots and scenarios
were running through my head.

I can't say I recall
that phenomenon.

But I'll take your word for it.

I figured that trying to make
you feel guilty wouldn't work.

Well, Larry already
had a sh*t at that.

Then I thought of flattery.

Nah. I'd see right through it.

I know.

And I knew that I couldn't
ask you to come back

and finish the
infomercial for my sake

and still keep a straight face.

Even if you could,
I wouldn't buy it.

And you're not about to tell me

I am a self-pitying,
washed-up has-been,

because even if it's true

judgmental is not your style.

No. No, it isn't.

Mat, I'm sure you remember

that when you're really
getting into a book,

the characters talk to you.

I mean, they tell you if you write
something that they wouldn't do.

Yeah.

Well, I realize that

you're going to keep on
doing what you're doing,

no matter how badly I or anyone
else would like to rewrite you.

That's it? Mmm.

You know, Jess,
you disappoint me.

I thought you'd be
more inventive than that.

Well, to quote something
you taught me a long time ago,

"It's the best I can
do at the moment."

Good night, Mat. I hope
things work out for you.

Sid, all I know is
that my soon-to-be ex

has found out I'm
in town, and working,

and she's been
sending me messages.

Lots and lots of messages.

Next thing I know, she's
gonna be coming down here,

demanding half my fee.

Yeah, Sid, the point
is, how do I bury this?

Would you hold on for
a second, Sid? What?

I know you.

Didn't you used to be on
TV, like, a long time ago?

Oh, for God's sake!

Don't tell me! What was it?

Philip Manners, PI.

Anyone? Help me.

Is there a problem, Mr. Foster?

Yeah! Do I have to
wear nose glasses

in order to get some
privacy around here?

I just wanted an autograph.

I'd like this guy out
of here. Come on.

Hey! I'm an extra, damn it.

Just on my way to the studio.

Sorry about that.

Sid, you still there?

I don't believe this.

Gina, there is no way you
can ace me out of this company.

Oh, wrong.

Apparently, you've forgotten,

but out of gratitude for
my putting up the money,

it was you who insisted on making
me the majority stockholder and CEO.

Well, darling,

as of the close of business
tomorrow, you're unemployed,

along with Sara, your
little helper of the moment,

unless you agree to a
brand-new set of rules

which are outlined
in Appendix A.

You're out of your mind.

You're probably
right. I still love you.

Anyway, think
about it, Tom, huh?

I hear it's very cold out there.

That's lunch, people. One
half-hour. Try the cafeteria...

Make sure the audience is
back from lunch in a half an hour.

My apologies for the
makeshift lunch, folks,

but we're in a real time-crunch.

Thank you for bearing with us.

How's the manuscript
holding up, Jessica?

Well, I've only gotten
into it just a little bit further,

but I must say, so
far, I think it's terrific.

It'll fall apart by page 50.

People like this,
they get fixated

on one or two scenes they can see
so vividly they can almost taste 'em,

then they don't know what
to do with the rest of the book.

Sadly, that is very
often the case.

Turkey's yours, Mrs.
Fletcher. Thank you.

Larry's ham and cheese. Yes.

I'm tuna. Mr. Matthews...

Here you go, Gina.

Thank you.

Sara, this looks
like roast beef.

Oh, great. This is supposed to
be tuna, it's salami and cheese.

I believe this is
yours, Mr. Matthews.

Well, I hope so.

This is mine.

Oh, I seem to have
somebody's invitation.

Does anybody know
a Jason Bayer Saxon?

I mean, did anybody
order roast beef?

Well, I did. This
must be your turkey.

Well, perhaps
this is yours, too?

I don't think so.

Anybody seen my
ham and cheese? Sara?

Well, thank you.

You want what?

Uh, cash.

See, my contract calls for me
to be paid after tonight's taping.

And I would be forever grateful

if you could possibly
pay me in cash.

$50,000? Wade!

Wade, we keep records, file
W-4 forms, so if you're looking to...

No, no! No. It's my checking
accounts, see, they're kind of tied up.

If it's a woman, you're
asking the wrong person.

No, it's not a woman. It's definitely
not a woman. I can assure you of that.

Mmm-hmm? It's my
manager, actually.

I'll see what I can do. Thanks.

Once again, that's
1-800-555-CLUE.

And on behalf of all
our Hartley authors,

this is Wade Foster wishing
you all mysterious reading.

Okay. Stop tape.

And that, ladies and
gentlemen, is a wrap.

Audience, you've been
wonderful. You can all go home.

Wade, I'm gonna need
you and the primary cast

at 9:00 a.m.
tomorrow for pickups.

Congratulations, Larry. Looks
like you found yourself a new career.

Thanks. What about you?

Uh... Severance pay.

Wanna help me spend it?

Jessica! Oh, thank you!

Success to crime.

Funny you should say that.

Hello, Jessica. Hello.

Mr. Matthews, I got a
couple of questions for you.

Homicide, up in Buffalo.

Turns out that the victim,
Mr. Stewart Murphy,

was a student of yours
a couple of years ago.

A writing class
that you taught at

East Buffalo Community
College. Is that right?

Murphy. Murphy. I have
absolutely no recollection of him.

In fact, I was telling Jessica, I
have very little recollection of Buffalo.

It's true, Lieutenant.

Okay. Maybe you could remember
something a little more recent, like,

your whereabouts the night before
last, when Mr. Murphy was k*lled.

I can help you there. A nice little
place on 39th and 7th Avenue.

Ordonio's. Great linguini.

We'll check it out.

Gee, Mrs. Fletcher, this book
club of yours looks pretty interesting.

Bite your tongue,
will you, Henderson.

They ought to make an
infomercial pushing a cure

for people who order
stuff from infomercials.

You're a prince, my man!

You tell Gina
"thank you" for me.

Yeah. Listen, Wade, I expect to be
heading out your way pretty shortly,

you know, to the coast, and
I was hoping that you'd, uh,

introduce me around,
you know, to the players?

Uh-huh. Really? Well, you
call me, by all means, okay?

Yeah.

You?

I've been reading up about you and
your ex-wife in the tabloids, Mr. Foster.

She sounds like
big-time bad news.

How long have you been in here?

One of the stories told
about all the fights you've had

over that co-op you
owned on Riverside Drive.

Said she wouldn't get out.

Okay. What do you want?

I guess she'd really like to
know you were paid in cash.

There, you little creep.

You're looking to hide $50,000

and I'm supposed to keep
it a secret for a lousy 200?

I can't believe how well
the infomercial turned out.

I owe it all to you, Jessica.

Well, I was very
happy to be part of it.

Me, too. I thought
it was so exciting!

And if you tell her,
I'll sell you for parts!

Good heavens!

Arnold? Are you all right?

I guess so.

For God's sake, Wade!

He att*cked me!

Come on, I've got a
first aid kit in the office.

Hey, are we still on for dinner?

Sure. I'll just go get my purse.

Who's there?

It's Larry Shields...

and Sara. We're just
heading out, Ernie.

All right. Good night.

It's Arnold Wynn. Oh, my God.

And I'd say it was around 10:00.

So your shift
started at 8:00 p.m.,

found the body about
two hours later? Yeah.

Okay. Thank you. Sure.

Well, Jessica,
from all accounts,

the decedent, Arnold Wynn, had no
business on the premises last night.

Now, it could be he
was robbing the place,

but the thing of it is, except for
the nosebleed and a little bruise,

there was no sign of the kind of
v*olence that would indicate m*rder.

Sara and Larry and the guard
found the body around 10:00?

Right. Right.

But, you know, there
is another possibility.

A boxer, right?

Gets knocked
down in round three,

but he gets up,
finishes the fight,

goes home, and dies from
the blow later that night.

Now you said that
what's his name, the actor,

punched this guy
about 6:00 p.m.?

Wade Foster. Mmm-hmm.

Jessica? Jessica?

Excuse me, Lieutenant.

Jessica, I'm afraid this has
thrown us completely off-schedule.

Would it be possible for you to
come in for your pickups tomorrow?

Well, I think I can
arrange my time. Yes.

Oh, Jessica, there you are!
Would you tell them, please?

You saw me leave
with Joellen, didn't you?

When was it, about 6:15?

Yes. That's quite
right. There, see?

He states that he
and a Joellen Waller

took a cab uptown to his hotel.

Yeah. She'll tell you. You can talk to
the cabby, you can talk to the doorman.

What about the
rest of the night?

Uh...

Lieutenant, I'd really rather you
discussed that with Ms. Waller.

All right. Well, this is
pretty academic, anyway.

There was no sign
of foul play here,

unless, of course, the coroner
decides that the guy d*ed

by a delayed reaction
of you punching him out.

At which point, the worst we're probably
looking at is probably manslaughter.

Manslaughter?
Lieutenant, I barely hit him.

Harry, Arnold didn't
appear groggy.

I mean, that blow
wasn't that severe.

Oh. That's okay with me.

Only do me a favor
and let's play it safe.

Don't leave town
till I say "okay."

Okay?

Better be soon.

"Better be soon."

I guess they don't call
'em actors for nothing.

Lieutenant, I don't know
how important this is,

but this extras list,

it turns out Mr. Wynn
wasn't in the union.

Well, then, no one
knows how he got the job?

Uh-uh. From his wallet we turned
up a home address, in Buffalo.

Buffalo?

I got his number from
the phone company.

A machine answered.

Buffalo PD's checking
him out for us.

I suggested they
check into the possibility

of Mr. Wynn's being connected
to the late Stewart Murphy.

Well, now, that's
good work, Henderson.

Thank you, sir.

Lieutenant, there's
something I'd like you to see.

For what it's worth, Arnold mentioned
that he'd taken writing classes

up there, including
one with Mat Matthews.

So both this guy and the
m*rder victim in Buffalo

studied with Matthews,
and you didn't tell me?

Well, until Arnold
turned up dead

it would've just seemed
like a coincidence.

Harry, this note...

Now, this came with
my sandwich by mistake.

Now, I'm not a
handwriting expert,

but notice the "A" and the "R."

They seem to match
the "A" and the "R"

in Arnold's name
added to the extras list.

Well, bag it and tag
it, will you, Henderson?

You never know.

So...

We've got I.D. that says the
corpse was named Arnold Wynn.

Only he writes a note referring
to himself as Jason Bayer Saxon.

Now what do you
suppose that's all about?

Well, if it was Arnold who
added his name to this roster...

I mean, that may explain
how he got the job.

Or it could've been
someone else entirely

that wrote Arnold's
name, and the note.

Uh, Detective Henderson, may I
see that list that you read earlier,

the items you found
on Mr. Wynn's person?

Sure thing.

Here we go. Thanks.

Wallet with $16,
backpack with two books,

a notebook, and some
writing course pamphlets.

That's it.

No. No.

There was an odd-shaped key.

And there was
something else. What...

Your handcuffs.

A bracelet, an ID
bracelet, that's what it was.

No ID bracelet.

Anyway, Jessica...

Jessica?

And money.

There were a couple of bills.
Hundreds, I think they were.

They apparently fell
out of Arnold's pocket

when he was struck
by Wade Foster.

I remember he picked them
up, and you didn't find them?

No, ma'am. They'll
probably turn up at his hotel

or wherever he was staying.
We still don't know where that was.

Oh. Jessica, what happened?

Why don't you tell 'em, Jessica.

And by the way, good
luck on your infomercial.

Let's just hope Henderson
never gets a chance to see it.

Hey! What do you
think you're doing...

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher. I'm sorry,
I thought everyone was gone.

I was just leaving, Ernie.

I'm sorry. I must
be a little jumpy.

Finding dead people isn't
exactly my idea of a good time.

Well, at least it
wasn't a m*rder.

I wouldn't be too
sure that it wasn't.

What's that?

A bracelet belonging to
the late Arnold Wynn. So?

Lieutenant, that is a
Medic Alert bracelet.

And it says that he
was allergic to quinine.

As in tonic water. So why
are you telling me this?

Listen, Mrs.
Fletcher, Lieutenant,

I gotta get this stuff to
the post office by 5:00.

Hold it, will you, Henderson.

Arnold's nosebleed...

He may have suffered
a fatal reaction.

That's funny you
should say that, Jessica.

It's right here in
the M.E.'s report.

Blood they found
on the victim's nose

didn't come from
an earlier punch,

but from an internal hemorrhage.

That's right. He had this
kind of rare pathologic reaction

to the ingestion of quinine.

Listen, I really gotta
get to the post office.

Will you hold it, Henderson?

According to this, it
destroyed the blood platelets.

Okay, so what do
you figure, Jessica,

he was allergic to
quinine, and k*lled himself?

A su1c1de by quinine water?

Harry, that doesn't make sense.

She's right.

With all due respect.

Okay, maybe he
took it by accident.

At the lunch Arnold winced at
the prospect of a gin and tonic,

and he had the sense
to wear this bracelet.

No, he was much
too careful about it

to have made that
kind of a mistake.

You know, I believe
that he was m*rder*d.

Oh, boy!

What is it, Detective?

Well, that's the stuff he
buys from the infomercials.

And I'm getting him to take
most of it back in 30 days

so he can get a refund.

I'm trying to save
him from himself.

Well, the 30 days on this batch
just elapsed, along with my money.

Okay, Henderson, business.

Got it, Lieutenant. I'll get them
to secure the Telesales offices

until we can get a
forensics team down there.

I hope they can
still find something.

I don't get it, Jess.

You figure this kid took a bus
all the way down from Buffalo

to meet someone
on this infomercial

and then that
someone murders him?

Well, it wasn't necessarily
the same person.

Hard to figure.
No obvious motive.

Unless you count his getting
slugged by Steve Stunning.

And then there was
that m*rder up in Buffalo.

And both victims
apparently in my class.

And there's Jason Bayer Saxon,

whoever he is. Sounds literary.

Oh, speaking of literature,

that over the transom manuscript
you've been reading fall apart yet?

Well, no...

Jessica, I was hoping
you'd still be here.

Harry, Detective Henderson.

For starters, why don't you put a
sock in it before you get in even deeper.

What the hell are
you talking about?

The m*rder of Arnold Wynn.

Harry?

We found a rap sheet
on Mr. Matthews, here.

Buffalo, as*ault in a bar against
the very same Arnold Wynn,

no saint himself, incidentally.

Wynn was charged with
extortion, attempted extortion.

Several arrests, one
conviction, suspended sentence.

Not a nice person.

Lieutenant, I had
nothing against Arnold.

And like I said, that whole
year in Buffalo was a blur.

Was last night a blur, too?

Say, between
eightish and midnight?

Mat, he's right. Perhaps
you shouldn't say any more.

I've got nothing
to hide, Jessica.

I took a long walk up Fifth
Avenue, past the Metropolitan,

and I sat for a long
time on a bench

opposite the Guggenheim.

Alone, no doubt.

Well, you see, Mr. Matthews, we
found a drinking glass at Telesales,

and it had traces
of quinine in it,

and two sets of fingerprints.

Mr. Wynn's and yours.

Now, that's not your dead-bang
smoking g*n, but it's a hell of a start.

I have a car waiting outside.

Has anyone seen our emcee?

I mean, I would like to get these
pickup sh*ts sometime this month.

Oh, God!

Jessica, even if we can sh**t
around Mat, if it turns out he's guilty,

the Hartley Book of the Month Club is gonna
be dead before it takes its first breath,

and Mr. Hartley's gonna be
out a quarter of a million dollars.

Larry, it's not an absolute certainty
that Mr. Matthews k*lled Arnold Wynn.

No, it isn't.

Morning, everybody.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I got
caught in an ex-wife jam.

It was ugly.

Telesales. Sure.

Jessica, it's Lieutenant Fogel.

Oh! Thank you. Excuse me.

Thanks.

Yes, Harry?

Okay, Jessica. You
wanted a progress report.

Here goes.

All right, first off, Arnold
Wynn's landlady up in Buffalo

gave us an address in Yonkers.

Just north of New York City.

Mr. Wynn's aunt.

Arnold was staying
with his aunt in Yonkers?

That's correct.

But that isn't where we
found those missing $100 bills.

They turned up in Mat
Matthews' apartment

on East 79th Street.

You're sure those
are the same bills?

Oh, they're in the
same number sequence

Gina Powell withdrew from
the bank to pay Wade Foster.

The same ones Foster
admitted he laid on Arnold

when the kid shook him down.

And that odd-shaped
key? What about that?

Oh, there's no key.

But I'm afraid it looks like we've got
enough to charge your friend Matthews.

I wish I had better
news for you, Jessica.

Keep me posted.

Sure, I'll keep you posted.

Are you sure about
this one, Lieutenant?

I mean, your teeth look
kind of yellow to me.

All it takes is about 200 hours

with these little
trays in your mouth...

Okay, everybody, listen up.

I just spoke to Ted Hartley.

He regrets to say
he's pulling the plug.

Damn! I knew it.

Bummer.

I mean, he's right. There's no
reason to throw good money after bad.

Well, I'm out of here, people.

If I hurry, I can catch an earlier
flight to L.A. Ciao, everybody.

Bye, Wade.

Hey, Tom, is there any way we
can piece together an infomercial

with what we've
got, cut Mat out of it?

Well, not really. We'd
come up short on time.

He's pretty much locked into
it, the way you wrote the script.

It's a question of
coverage and...

The script.

The question.

Tom, would you
excuse us for a moment?

Yeah. Sure.

Larry, we need to take a look at a
tape of what they've edited so far,

and quickly.

Ms. Waller, I hear that
Hollywood just made you a big offer

for Homicide at the
Alexandria Lighthouse.

Where'd you come up
with such a cool idea?

That's it, Larry!
Stop it right there.

Now, you said that you didn't
write that question yourself?

No, it wasn't in the script,

but we decided to leave it in.

Then I think I know
who m*rder*d Arnold.

The key I saw,

it wasn't in his backpack
when they found him.

Now, that has to be the key.

Quickly, Larry, see if you can track
down that girl who asked the question.

What city? Yes.

The area code
for Buffalo, please.

One moment.

I hope we're not too late.

Bus number 10 from Manhattan,

arriving Yonkers, is
delayed five minutes.

Express service for Saratoga
Springs now boarding at Gate 2.

Found what you're
looking for, Joellen?

What you m*rder*d
Arnold Wynn for?

I don't know what you mean.

That key. You took
it from his backpack

after you poisoned him.

But until you heard
me mention Yonkers,

you didn't know which
bus station lockers to try.

Oh, Jessica, you're mistaken.

May I?

It's addressed to Jason Bayer
Saxon from Stewart Murphy.

And both have the same address.

My guess is, it's an
original manuscript

written by Stewart Murphy under
the pen name of Jason Bayer Saxon.

So Stewart Murphy
protected his manuscript

by sending it to himself registered
mail, and then he kept it sealed.

And I suspect it's what
Arnold Wynn k*lled him for.

It became the
basis of your novel,

the one Stewart Murphy
realized you stole from him.

So Arnold k*lled Stewart, took the
manuscript, and tried to blackmail you.

But I was with Wade Foster
when Arnold was k*lled.

Wrong. A little while ago he
admitted that your capacity for wine

was far greater than his.

And he was pretty embarrassed to
have to confess that he fell asleep

while you were with
him in his hotel suite.

This is crazy. Arnold Wynn...

Well, I met him at the restaurant,
Jessica, when I was with you.

No, Joellen. You met
him and Stewart Murphy

when the three of you took
Mat's fiction writing class

at the East Buffalo
Community College.

Their registrar confirmed it.

So, basically, Ms. Waller,
we have enough to convict you

three, maybe even four times.

It didn't dawn on me
till a little while ago

that you were familiar
with the Buffalo area.

I recalled what you'd said
when we started the infomercial.

It just came in the post from
some woman in Lackawanna.

Funny, you know, Lackawanna
always makes me think of railroads!

And rotten winters
in Lackawanna pines.

Lackawanna is only a
few miles from Buffalo.

Then I remembered that one of the audience
questions that was addressed to you

had deviated from the script.

The tape showed that the young woman who
asked it was seated next to Arnold Wynn.

It turns out that Arnold
Wynn gave her the question.

Probably to needle you,
to throw you off balance.

As he intended when he
came up to us in the restaurant.

That's where you
saw the locker key,

when he dumped his
belongings on the table.

And the note that showed up in
Jessica's sandwich, that was meant for you.

In Mat's class, Stewart Murphy
gave me his story to read.

He could really write.

I photocopied it and
stuck it in a drawer.

And after endless rejection
slips on my stuff, I got desperate.

On an impulse, I changed the
title and signed my name to it

and sent it off to
Hartley Publishing.

And bingo, you had
a hit on your hands.

Arnold told me he was
contacting me on Stewart's behalf.

I agreed to buy Stewart's
original manuscript

for $30,000 and
met him at Telesales,

but he showed up without it.

He said he needed
it for insurance.

Well, that's when I
decided he had to die.

I remembered his
allergy to quinine.

Back in Buffalo,
Arnold had told me

the lethal effect even simple
tonic water could have on him.

So, I suggested a drink
to seal our partnership.

He wanted whiskey and ginger
ale, and I slipped in quinine water.

Here's to a long and
mutually-beneficial arrangement.

I wiped my fingerprints off
the bottle of quinine water

and off my glass
and followed him out.

I knew it was only a matter of
time until the quinine took effect.

I took back my money
from the little slime,

but I still had to
find the manuscript.

I found the $200 from
Wade and the locker key,

and figured he had hidden the
original of Stewart Murphy's book.

I wanted to take the
Medic Alert bracelet

so no one would
know how he d*ed,

and then I heard the
guard coming down the hall.

I had to get away.

And the glass Arnold drank out of
happened to have Mat's fingerprints on it.

When I heard about that, I...

I talked Mat's super into
letting me into his apartment,

and I planted the $100 bills.

I tried that damn key in every airline,
railroad and bus terminal in town!

If you'd known he'd gotten
off the bus in Yonkers,

you might have
gotten away with it.

And now with my promotion
to head of marketing,

two people can
live off what I make.

Thanks again for lunch.

Good luck.

And, Jess, thanks for this.

You have only yourself
to thank for that, Mat.

By the way, I was...

Well, I was wondering if you
ever got through that manuscript

from the lady from Lackawanna?

Oh, I did, you
certainly called it.

Yeah.

I mean, it was very derivative.

Well, that figures.

Derivative of vintage
Mat Matthews,

but with a maturity
and freshness

that just took my breath away from
page one clear through to the very end.

Yeah. Well, I...

What did you say?

I'm saying that only one
person could've written that book.

Mat Matthews himself.

Yeah. Well, I figured if...

You know, if you knew that
was my stuff, you might...

Well, you might shine me on.

But then I forgot,

that's not your style, either.