01x07 - m*rder in the Doll's House

[bunniefuu]

[theme music playing]

Starring Buddy Ebsen.

Also starring Lee Meriwether.

With guest stars Jack Cassidy,

Estelle Winwood,

Cathy Lee Crosby.

Special guest star Anne Francis.

♪ ♪

You're always scribbling, Harry.

It's a compulsion.

I thought I might
flush out some birds.

I used to come up here
by the old water tank.

It's a favorite spot of mine.

Shall we, up the hill?

I thought you were
going to sh**t me, Craig.

[chuckles]:
You writers
and your imagination.

[grunts]

Over the phone you said
you wanted to talk.

I just wanted to tell you
how much I admire your work.

All of your books, Harry.

Thanks, Craig.

You really do write well, Harry.

But you got too close.

The main reason that I
came here to Los Angeles

was for this book publishing
convention, Mr. Jones.

Harry Doyle was supposed
to meet me here.

When he didn't, I called him
up at the inn in Los Reyes.

When was this, Mr. Randall?

Three days ago.

Now the desk clerks keep telling
me that he hasn't checked out.

But nobody's seen him
for the last ten days.

And I gotta get
back to New York.

What would he be doing
in Los Reyes?

Soaking up atmosphere...

for his new book.

Los Reyes was his old home town.

He kept sending us pages
as he finished each chapter.

I never did get to Palm Springs.

Oh, please, don't unpack.

Sorry.

Did you, uh, check the police?

Sure.

But, uh...

really, I'd rather
not have them in,

if we can help it.

Embarrassing?

Listen...

there was a time

when Harry Doyle hit
the booze pretty hard.

Now I'm worried about him,

but I've got to be honest,
I'm worried about the book.

I want that ending...
The last pages.

We're setting up
to run galley proofs.

What's his room
number at the inn?

Twenty-four.

Look...

there is one person there

who's a good friend
of Harry Doyle's.

Knows everybody.

A girl by the name of, uh...
Nancy something or other.

She runs the
Paper Mill Bookstore.

Now you can level with her.

When you say one person,
Mr. Randall,

you mean Harry isn't well liked?

His last book
was about Los Reyes, too.

He made a bundle.

Book clubs, a movie
and a flock of enemies.

Frankly, there
were... problems.

When people run out of
problems, Mr. Randall,

I'll be out of business.

BETTY:
After graduating from Stanford,

Mr. Doyle worked on
the Oakland Times.

Such Sweet Thunder is
about growing up in Los Reyes.

Let's see, it was...
it was bought by Hollywood

and Harry Doyle moved down here
to write the screenplay.

Sherman Oaks.

Does he still live there?

No. Now he drifts.

He's divorced.

Oh, about his first book,
Such Sweet Thunder,

the Los Reyes paper called
it "Such Sour Grapes."

Be interesting to hear
what they have to say

about the sequel he's writing.

Betty, keep calling,

in case Harry Doyle
comes back to L.A.

His agent, Writers Guild,
trade papers.

All right, I'll do that.

Oh, listen, you be careful,
all right?

I mean, I hear there are a lot
of fancy women up in Los Reyes.

They better be careful.

They don't realize I'm always
gunning for a rich divorcee.

Barnaby Jones.

I called in about a reservation.

Oh, yes, Mr. Jones.

Welcome to the inn.

If you'll just fill out this
registration card, please.

Harry Doyle returned yet?

No, sir, not yet.

Mr. Jones, this is Mr. Bantry,
the manager of the inn.

Mr. Jones.

How do you do, Mr. Bantry?

Mr. Jones is looking
for Mr. Doyle.

Oh, is that so, Mr. Jones?

I represent his publisher.

Do you happen to know
where he is?

I have no idea.

Mr. Doyle takes off
two or three days at a time,

gathering material for his book,
or whatever writers do.

Did he mention when he'd return?

He never does.

Well, that's a good writer...

He keeps everyone in suspense.

[chuckles]

I see what you mean.

[phone ringing]

Hello.

Craig, it's Roy.

Yes, Roy.

You said call
in case anyone came around

asking about Doyle.

Somebody just did.

Name is Jones.

Well, that tells me a lot, Roy.

Says he represents
Doyle's publisher.

It figures the publishers
would send a man down.

They got a big investment.

I don't like it, Craig.

It was bound to happen, Roy.
I told you that.

Will you stop whining?

What do you want me to do?

Just keep your eye
on him discreetly.

And, Roy, don't worry.

"Gratuity...

one dollar."

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

[knocking on door]

[door closes]

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

[engine starting]

[engine starting]

Harry's new novel
is really fabulous.

And I'm not just saying that.

I'm objective.

I've got to be to
own a bookstore.

Harry Doyle's The Sun Children

really lets the air
into this town.

You mean you've read it
before it's even finished?

All that he's written.

To about page 300, I think.

Harry asks me to read his stuff.

I guess I laugh in all
the right places.

Are you his editor
then, Mr. Jones?

No.

I'm a private investigator
hired by his publisher.

Why?

To find Harry and find out
where's the rest of the book.

A man your age, Mr. Jones?

You're a new kind
of private eye.

That's a nice way of saying
I'm an old kind of private eye.

Miss Erdmore, to me
old age has always seemed

to be...


CRAIG:
Hi, Nancy.

Miriam wanted me to pick up
that new Alan Watts book.

Oh, I'm sorry.
I'm sold out.

But I'll call her as
soon as they come in.
Oh.

Say, maybe Craig can help you.

He and Harry are old friends.

Craig, this is Barnaby Jones
from Los Angeles.

Craig Woodridge.

How do you do,
Mr. Woodridge?

Jones.

Mr. Jones is a
private investigator.

He's looking for good
ol' Harry Doyle.

No kidding?

Well, we all know how Harry
likes to take off.

Uh, you and Harry
are old friends?

Yes.

Went to high school together.

Harry goes off on these trips
of his alone, I take it?

Oh, yeah.

Harry marches to quite
a different drummer.

Suddenly he'll be
driving up to Morro Bay

to get a look
at those sea otters

or backpacking in the Sierras.

sh**t, I gotta be going.

I work.

Say, we're having a little
get-together early this evening.

Lots of locals.

Nancy, you'll be there,
at Anita's.

I'd like you to join us,
Mr. Jones.

Maybe Harry will show up

or maybe somebody there
might have seen him.

Informal.

That's very kind of you,
Mr. Woodridge.

I'll be looking forward to it.

Good.

See you, Nance.

Bye.

A little get-together.

Command performance
is more like it.

You see, it's a ritual
in Los Reyes

that the last Thursday
of every month

is set aside
for Anita Woodridge's party.

She's Craig's great aunt.

She receives in the
twilight hours,

and if you're Los Reyes society
you show up or drop dead.

Very hospitable man,
Mr. Woodridge.

What does he do?

Stocks and bonds.

And he has this crazy routine
about how hard he works.

Don't you believe him.

How come?
If I may ask.

Connections.

His father-in-law
got the partnership for him.

Oh, that's Miriam's father?

Hey, you pay attention,
don't you?

Miriam it is.

Miriam Drake.

And Miriam is not only a beauty,

but comes from
just the right people.

And there is nothing
but money, money, money.

Craig's marrying the local
heiress is one of those stories

everybody sort of knows
and talks about.

You see, Craig's aunt
had a fortune,

but she let it slip away.

Now Craig had always expected
to live in the lap of luxury,

but by the time
he was out of school,

the Woodridge money had run out.

Thank you.

And so had the
Woodridge family line.

Then Craig landed Miriam
and saved the whole works.

What's the matter?

Outside of talking too much?

Listen, I'm really
worried about Harry.

I wasn't before, but now you're
here and you're looking for him.

It's serious, isn't it?

Oh, as Mr. Woodridge says,

Harry's probably just
out looking at otters.

Miss Erdmore, unless
you have other plans,

I'd like to take you
to the party tonight.

I don't have a date, and if I
did I'd think about breaking it.

That's very flattering.

Where and what time?

Any time after


Fine.

Listen, let me put you on hold.

My secretary tells me there's
a call from California.

Yes, hello.

Oh, hello, Mr. Jones.

I'm in Los Reyes.

Looks like your hunch might just
turn out to be correct.

As far as the people here know,

Harry's just off on another one
of his jaunts.

But he must know we're waiting
for these last pages.

How many has
he turned in so far?

Uh, just a minute.

Uh, 301 pages.

Up to the end of chapter 12.

Why?

Yes, that checks with
his carbon copy... 301.

But that can't be
the end of the book.

Yeah, I know.
That's what's so funny.

I found another page
back of his wastebasket.

Uh, it's from first draft,
and he just started on it.

It's numbered 334.



Did you find any other pages
up to there?

No. That's why I wanted
to check.


there somewhere.

The last chapter.

Find them.

Send them to me airmail special,
registered.

And call me.

Yes, sir.

I mean find Harry
too, of course.

Give him hell
and tell him to call me.

You got it?

Now, excuse me.

I'm talking to Washington.

A private investigator, Craig.

That's not good.

And sneaking into Harry's room.

Will you stop worrying, Roy.

He'll nose around for a week,

earn his fee and live
it up on his expenses.

Then he'll go away.

What can he find out anyway?

I'm playing the nice friendly,
rather dense rich guy for him.

Showing him around the club.

You think that's smart?

Certainly it's smart.

Throw him a few curves.

I hope you know
what you're doing.

Yeah.

Look at it this way, Roy,

this doesn't work,

we're just gonna have
to go one step further.

Mm. Oh, that turns me on.

Oh, I don't mean
the scent you use.

It's the aroma of Miriam
that's underneath.

Sweetie, the last couple
of days you've been so playful.

I'm always playful.

Come on, Buster,

you can't pull that off.

I'm not trying
to pull anything off.

What people don't know
about people.

We've known each other
all our lives,

we've been married
for six years.

Still seems
as if we've been walking

on opposite sides of the street.

That's ridiculous, Miriam.

No, it isn't.

But it doesn't matter.

Most people spend
all their lives

walking on the other side
of the street.

I'm sorry, Craig.

Don't ever be sorry.

I am.

I've been thinking a lot
about Tom Jordan lately.

You're telling me?

After all these years.

I don't know.

He just seems to be in my head...

Smiling that nutty smile of his.

Miriam, please,
don't dwell on the past.

I'm not dwelling on it.

I like it.

Maybe it's Harry Doyle.

Coming back stirring
everything up.

Talking about the good ol' days.

Harry reminds me of Tom.

That's crazy.
They're nothing alike.

Tom was a lot bigger.

He was 15 pounds heavier.

What men see.

Size, shape and haircuts.

Women see other things.

Do you suppose Harry
will be there tonight?

How should I know?

Probably out somewhere
on a binge.

No. Harry doesn't drink
like that anymore.

Well, maybe not.

But you sure are lately.

Mm-hmm.

Do you mind?

[door opens]

[door closes]

[low, indistinct conversations,
laughter]

[piano playing softly
in background]

Well, Mr. Jones, here we are
at the Los Reyes tribal dance.

It's an ancient rite.

There's a pretty good
cross section

of the tribe here already.

Mike, for instance.

Now Mike is our top polo player.

Mucho machismo.

But he has a secret.

For a long time no girl over 25

could bring Mike to those
ecstatic heights

he enjoys so much.

Then they had to be 20.

And now Mike needs
his young girls in bunches.

And over there,
Mr. Jones, is Louise.

The lady known as Lou has
an insatiable appetite

for lifeguards, beach
boys, delivery boys.

If you think that Nancy and I

are just a couple of witchy
gossips, everyone knows.

Especially after what
Harry did in his first book.

Indirectly, of course.

Seems to me nobody around here
would mind too much

if his new book
was never printed.

[door closes]

Here she comes,

Craig's great aunt Anita.

[woman laughing]

[talking quietly]

Helen.
Nice seeing you, Earl.

Helen, I've loved your work
over the years.

What's the doll?

Aunt Anita has hundreds
of dolls.

She talks to them.

She feeds them.

She buys them clothes.

I guess she likes them

because they don't
give her any arguments.

Anita's a bit odd,

but she's still the matriarch
of Los Reyes.

How is she, Craig?

She asked me about
going out on a picnic

which took place
about 25 years ago.

So I'd say Aunt Anita's
pretty much the same.

Harry was always
fascinated by her.

Is she in either of the books?

Oh, every one of the old
guard is in Harry's book.

More or less.

Hey, about those missing pages.

I was just thinking, Harry works
once in awhile at my place.

Your friend and mine,
Roy Bantry,

complains that Harry's typing
at night annoys the guests.

Maybe those pages
are in his stuff up there.

He's not exactly
famous for neatness.

Well, could we go
take a look now?

Want to?

What, leave the party?

It's just beginning to roll.

Downhill?

Jones, what about
a little golf tomorrow?

Well...

Well, if not golf, what
about sh**ting some skeet?

Well, that's more my speed.

Thanks.
Great.

About 11:00, Skeet Club.

Anybody at the inn
can tell you where it is.

You people in Los Reyes
are most hospitable.

Thank you.

Good night.

Good night,
Mrs. Woodridge.

Good night, Mr. Jones.

Good night.

Good night.

This 12% wine doesn't seem
to be what the doctor ordered.

One double scotch coming
straight from the bar.

No criticism?

You're a big girl, Miriam.

There can't be other pages.

I keep tabs on that carbon
in Doyle's room.

You leaned too hard
on him about the noise.

He's been working over
at Nancy's, she said.

He was keeping my guests awake.

Well, now Mr. Jones
and Nancy are

on their way over
to the Paper Mill.
You follow them.

Be getting dark in
another half hour.

And try and find out

if they come up with something.

[piano playing softly
in background]

The bar guaranteed
this to have a bell.

I don't think
anybody can guarantee

your bells anymore, Miriam.

I thought maybe the
champagne would do it.

It isn't really a bell.

I don't know what it is.

But it does ring.

Then everything's
quiet, peaceful...

for a little while.

You know, I think your Aunt
Anita maybe has the right idea.

She always seems so happy,
somehow.

You call that happy?

You know when things went sour?

When Tom Jordan drowned.

Thanks a lot.

That's when we got married.

Sour.

They've never really been
sweet since.

Have they, darling?

Mostly research stuff,
looks like.

More research stuff.

"Roy Bantry...

"who was first to reach

the deep waters
where Tom Jordan..."

These are all about

Tom Jordan's water-
skiing accident.

Mm-hmm. He and Miriam
were engaged, you know.

Then about six months
after he drowned,

Miriam married Craig.

Well, that looks like about
everything, Barnaby.

Yeah.

Say, do you mind
if I hold onto these

for a day or so?

Sure. And I'm sorry
I wasn't any more help.

Say, you're my date.

Can I take you home?

No, thanks.

I've got a few things
to do around here.

But it was a nice date.

Yeah. Me, too.

Good night.

Good night.

♪ ♪

But they took money, too.

Just a cover.

You think Craig
had someone follow us?

He knew we were
coming here and why.

But who slugged you?

I don't know.

Those missing pages of that book
must be pretty hot.

I've gotta find 'em.

These clippings
don't mean a thing.

Everybody knows
the newspaper version.

The missing pages
might not say anything either.

Yeah, they might.

If they know that Harry talked
to my dear old aunt.

Your Aunt Anita is all fuzzy.

She'll never remember.

Oh, don't you kid yourself.

That old dame still
has her moments of clarity.

So what do we do?

Watch Jones.

He's in Harry's footsteps.

Ah, Mr. Bantry,

I've been looking for you.

Oh, what can I do
for you, Mr. Jones?

I wanted to tell you how much

I'm enjoying your service.

It's very personal.

Well, thank you, sir.
Thank you very much.

Anything I can do

to make your stay more pleasant?

Well, yes, there is.

Since you were
the first on the scene

when Tom Jordan was drowned...

Oh, my.
[chuckles]

That was so long ago.

Why are you interested?

Well, it's part
of the town history practically,

and I wanted to talk
to an eyewitness.

Well, let's see.

I was fishing the
lake in a rowboat.

It's a good bass lake,
that Lake Emerald.

Craig Woodridge and Tom Jordan
were water-skiing.

Tom was skiing, Craig
was driving the boat.

Jordan lost control
around a turn,

hit a buoy,
knocked him unconscious,

sank like a stone.

Oh, it was a terrible tragedy.

And Jordan went under before
Craig could get to him?

That's correct.

Before Craig Woodridge
could get back.

Of course, they were
going pretty fast.

Craig had to make a
big turn to come back.

And you were the only witness?

Correct.

Nobody else out there fishing
that time of the morning.

Newspapers at the time said

that you were working as a clerk
in a liquor store.

Oh, I've had lots of jobs.

Food, beverages.

Now you're an innkeeper.

Right.

With a place of your own.

It is your own, isn't it?

Fee title, according
to your record, paid in full.

That's quite a success story.

Well, pays to work hard
and save your money.

[g*nshots]
Craig's always late.

I don't quite know
how to say this,

uh... last night,

Nancy and I did

a little bit of
talking out of school.

Thank you.

Yes, I know how it is.

Sometimes there's
a lot to be said

in a lady's favor,

but the other's
a lot more interesting.

[g*nshots continue]

I wanted you to fill me in,
anyway.

Not that I like to poke around
in the past.

I just got back from there.

What can you tell me
about the water-skiing accident?

Harry asked me
all about that, too.

Listen, where is that guy?
Does anybody know?

Not a clue.

[sighs]

I didn't see it.

I was taking a tennis lesson
when it happened.

When Roy Bantry called
from the dock

for more help,
we all rushed down.

But it was too late.

Craig was wonderful.

He dived and dived,
trying to reach Tom.

He nearly passed out.

When they finally did
grapple Tom's body...

it was too late.

I'm sorry to bring this up.

It was just such a shock,
you know.

You know that
Tom and I were engaged?

We were gonna be
married in a month.

It was a shock
for the whole town...

and Anita more than anybody.

Really?

In lots of ways, she
was closer to Tom and me

than our own parents even.

She really took
Tom's death badly.

That's when she started
staying in...

working on her doll collection.

She didn't even leave the house
when Craig and I were married.

I may want to talk to her.

Do you think it'll be all right?

Sure.

Well, good morning, Jones.

Ready for a little sh**ting?

Certainly,
Mr. Woodridge.

Raring to go.

Good.

What'll I wish you two...
Happy skeets?

Let's go, huh?

Oh-h*, is that what
you're having straight?

It's good for the eyesight
and reflexes.

I must say you have
quite a background

for an investigator, Jones:

graduate school,
degree in forensics.

You checked me out.

[chuckles]
I had to.

It's a private club.

Well, Mr. Woodridge,
degrees are nice

to hang on your wall...

And I'm glad I have mine...

But I've always tried not
to let book-learning

interfere with my education.

Shall we get after
these clay pigeons?

That's what we're here for.

Your honor, sir.

Thank you.

Pull!

Good sh**ting, Jones.

Pull.

You're not bad yourself.

You and Roy Bantry have been
friends a long time.

You mean Bantry from the inn?
Yes.

Ever since
the water-skiing accident.

About then.
Pull.

Shame you couldn't have reached
Jordan on time.

Well, I tried.

Pull.

Yes, I know you tried.

Miriam told me.

She's very proud of you.

Said you risked your life
to save him.

Well, naturally, of course I...
Could we sh**t?

I mean, I don't see what this
has to do with anything.

MIRIAM:
Hey, chums.

Let me show you how that's done.

Are you crazy? You
want to k*ll somebody?

Come on, Craig.
Let me have a go at it.

Miriam!

Here, hold my drink.
Ooh-ooh!

[groans]
Oh...

All that beautiful scotch.

Why don't you go sit down?

Thought you knew
my great-grandmother
was Annie Oakley.

Go on back
to your watering hole.

I'll get some more shells.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

Can you hold these?

You really think you
have something, huh?

Could be. Could be.

Give me the jacket.
Jacket.

Human hair.

Oily.

Scalp hair.

The, uh, comb?

Yeah.

One from the comb
fell out naturally.

The other one was pulled out.

You notice, on the hair
that was pulled out...

That's the one on the top...

The root is full and, uh,

seems to have traces
of blood on it.

They look identical.

Yeah, same diameter.
Similar medulla.

Both hairs came
from Harry Doyle...

The one from his comb, the other
from the jacket of the suspect.

Now, the third hair,
the black one...

that didn't come
from Harry's comb.

I found it on the lapel
of Harry's jacket.

Human hair.

Funny.

It's not oily.

Cut on one end.

Something, not a root,
on the other.

Oriental hair.

Perfectly round.
Definite medulla.

That's why their hair
hangs so beautifully.

Oriental hair.

Cut on one end.

Something not
a root on the other...

Glue.

Doll's hair.

All this water-skiing stuff
and taking care of me...

He's not just some old character
you can file and forget.

He's trouble, Craig.

Where is he now?

I don't know where he is
every minute.

I'm going out
to my Aunt Anita's.

You let me know as soon
as he gets back to the inn.

Craig, I have a business to run.

Bantry, you do
as I tell you to do.

What is this
with you and Roy Bantry?

What's going on?

There's nothing going on.

Well, where are you going?

Out.
When will you be back?

I have no idea.

Are you going to look for Harry?

I'm not really
interested in Harry.

Craig, where is he?

How should I know?!

Would you get off
my back about Harry?!

You do know.
Why won't you tell me?

[phone rings]

Hello?

BANTRY:
Hello. Miriam.

Is Craig there?

No, he isn't.

Has he left
for his aunt's house yet?

He didn't say.

Oh. Well...

Oh, well, uh...
thank you, Miriam.

Good-bye.

Good-bye.

This is Tosho from Kyoto.

A favorite of mine,
aren't you, Tosho?

Harry Doyle
must have liked Tosho, too.

Oh, he likes all
my little friends.

Um, you had a nice visit
with Mr. Doyle?

Oh, yes. It's so
pleasant talking to him.

He's so kind.

He asked for my help.

Oh? With what?

He's a writer, you
know. Mr. Doyle is.

Oh, yes, a famous one.

Well, then...

then you helped him
with his novel?

Well, he said he was going
to write about my friends.

My real friends.

Now, you come on over
and let me introduce you.

Girls?

This is Mr. Jones.

How do you do?

That's Betty.

That's Fran.

That's Edith.

And that's Susie.

Mr. Jones is a friend
of Mr. Doyle's.

Do you remember the nice parties
we had with Mr. Doyle?

Mrs. Woodridge, who
is this in the bed?

The young man?

That's Craig.
Poor Craig.

He's sick.

Really? Craig?

Why is he sick?

The doctors don't know.

The terrible thing is that Craig
doesn't even know he's sick.

Oh, I'm going
over the master bedroom.

Will you excuse me if I, uh...

Surely.

What's that on the floor?

Looks like a piece
of manuscript paper.

No, dear.
That's a drop cloth

to keep the paint
from getting on the rug.

This is one of Harry Doyle's
manuscript pages.

Oh, dear.

Oh, I didn't realize.

I thought...

Did I get any paint on it?

Yes, a little,
but it doesn't matter.

Do you have
the rest of the pages?

Yes. Mr. Doyle said

he wanted to be
perfectly sure about...

Well, it's somewhere here.

Mr. Doyle and I
are working on it.

He was going
to be back, uh, Wednesday.

Yes, next Wednesday.

Oh, you found it.

Good.

Oh, uh, do you
mind if I read it?

Why, of course not.

It's beautifully written.

Just make yourself at home.

It is beautifully written.

What did I tell you?

There's a part here
that confuses me a little.

What's that, dear?

The part about Tom Jordan.

The character that would
be Craig in real life...

let Tom drown.

He didn't try to help him.

That Craig let Tom drown.

Yes. It's true.

Terrible, but true.

That's why Craig is sick.

The difference between
Craig and me is...

Well, I'm sick, but
I know that I am.

And that's why I hope
Craig will get better soon.

Mr. Doyle does, too.

It's time.

It was the lies that
made Craig sick.

At first, it seemed all right.

But, of course, it never was.

Craig came and told me

and we both kept the secret.

But when lies
have been buried too long,

they fester, they rankle.

Harry Doyle is right.

It's time to let in some light.

[door opening]

Yes, but not now, Auntie.

Mr. Jones and I are going
to hunt some pheasants.

ANITA:
Oh, wonderful.

We haven't had any fresh game
in such a long time.

Good hunting.

Yes, of course. You go on
with what you were doing, Aunt.

Oh, my, yes.

I've got
all this wallpapering to do.

Of course.

[door closes]

This how you k*lled Harry Doyle?

Oh, good ol' Harry Doyle
get himself k*lled?

Where's the body?

Bet if we dig around here,
we'd find it.

Just keep moving.

Anita knows we're out here.

Anita?

I'll just have to
take my chances.

Right there.

[g*nsh*t]

You let him die!

[groaning]

He let him die!

I just called Aunt Anita
and she told me.

He let Tom Jordan die!

Damn you.

I loved him.

[gasps]

sh**ting's all over now.

That's sure a lousy way
to get a novel written.

Yep.

He's quite a guy.

Wish I'd known him.

Do you have
to go back right away?

No.

How would you like
to go up to Morro Bay

and see if we can find
some sea otters?

I think that'd be
a wonderful idea.

You know, I may never come
back to this darned town.

Let's talk about that
on the way.

You know, there's something
about looking at the ocean

when you're thinking about your
problems that makes them seem,

well, not as big
as you thought they were.

That sounds very comforting
and very cliché.

It is a cliché.

And you know why it's a cliché?

Because it's true.

[theme music playing]