Murder, She Wrote, Season 3

Constance Fletcher:
[About Carol's wedding dress] I'll reserve my judgment until the final fitting on Thursday.

Alex Cord:
But, Mrs. Fletcher, this is the final fitting.

Constance:
Thursday, 10 o' clock.

Carol Bannister:
Grandmother?

Constance:
Carol, this gentleman was your choice. Now let me salvage what I can.

Jessica:
My goodness, you look wonderful!

Howard Bannister:
[Laughs] I look dreadful but, uh, thanks for the insincerity.

Maylene Sutter:
Nobody can fault your taste, tomcat. I can't say the same for the way you sniff around back alleys.

Hank Sutter:
Get off my back, Maylene.

Maylene:
Let me know if you're coming home tonight. I'd hate to shoot you coming through the door.

Daniella Morgana Carmody:
Listen to me, Sutter! You caught me when I was hurting. Okay, I'm not proud of myself, but it's over.

Hank:
Mrs. Carmody, there's over and then there's over.

Mayor Powers:
Should've known better than to let myself be talked into permittin' these lowlife grifters near my town.

Sheriff Lynn Childs:
Well, now, folks have been gettin' a lot of pleasure out of the circus.

Mayor Powers:
The Good Book's got its say on the subject of pleasure.

Mayor Powers:
If you've got no connection with these fly-by-nights, just what were you doin' here?

Jessica:
I thought someone I once knew was with the circus.

Mayor Powers:
And?

Jessica:
Well, everyone I talked to assured me that he wasn't.

Mayor Powers:
And just maybe he was the dead foreman. Why were you lookin'for him?

Jessica:
Well, I wasn't looking for him.

Mayor Powers:
And how do I know that?

Jessica:
Because I just told you.

Mayor Powers:
And there'll be a lot more you'll be tellin' me before this investigation's over.

Mayor Powers:
You stay out of police business!

Jessica:
You could benefit from the same advice, Mr. Mayor.

Mayor Powers:
Lady, you're on thin ice!

Jessica:
If you think I'm gonna stand by while you railroad a perfectly innocent man for a crime that he did not commit, you are very sadly mistaken!

Katie McCallum:
My husband was killed in a high-wire fall last year, and Charlie's just trying to be the man of the family.

Jessica:
Oh, my. That is such a big job at his age.

Preston Bartholomew:
[About Hank Sutter] A green kid with cotton for brains and a disposition like cactus juice. The years didn't improve either one.

Sheriff Childs:
You heard Mayor Powers. The case is closed. He'd have my head if I kept snoopin' around.

Jessica:
Fortunately, Sheriff, I am under no such threat of decapitation.

Jessica:
I'm sorry, but you have about as much right to conduct a police investigation as Jack the Ripper.

Mayor Powers:
Sheriff, you lock up this Yankee busybody right now.

Sheriff Childs:
Mayor, I can't just-

Jessica:
On what charge?

Mayor Powers:
Obstruction of justice! Impeding a police investigation! Flagrant disrespect of the office of mayor!

Jessica:
It's not the office that's earning my contempt.

Edgar Carmody:
Are you gonna tell me what's wrong?

Raymond Carmody:
Being sold off like a piece of equipment is what's wrong!

Barney Kale:
[About reopening an old murder case] I'm calling to tell you, Miss Tate, that I'm headed for Juniper Lake. I thought you might be interested.

Cynthia Tate:
No, not really. If you catch any wild geese, let me know.

Cynthia:
I finally got it all, Seth.

Dr. Hazlitt:
Yeah?

Cynthia:
Everything I ever wanted. My own business, money, security, a big new house. You know what it all is? Garbage.

Murderer:
Dixon was a very religious man, always talking about getting to heaven. And I just simply helped him on his way.

Michael Hagarty:
Who do you think it is, woman?

Jessica:
Michael! Or is it Dennis?

Michael:
Dennis this week. And I'll thank you to remember it. I'm not yet ready to be interred in the family plot.

Jessica:
Then it's a good thing that you opened your mouth in that restaurant before I put my foot in it.

Michael:
Yes, I could see you were about to make a terrible fool out of one of us. Oh, Jessica, you're as lovely as ever.

Jessica:
And you're as devious as ever.

Michael:
Tomorrow evening then, we'll rekindle the embers over dinner at a lovely restaurant I found in Alexandria. After which, I trust, we will both be on our worst behavior.

Andrew Wyckham:
The girl was wonderful. Simply marvelous.

Jessica:
Oh, Andrew, there's nothing simple about what she does with a violin.

Michael:
That's why Jack Kendall and I liberated Franz and his sister just before the interval at the concert hall.

Jessica:
Liberated? At gunpoint? With shots fired?

Michael:
[Chuckles] Lucky for us that the "1812 Overture" was playing. Nobody heard them.

Michael:
In our trade, Jessica, you don't wear a badge that says "Spy". Anonymity is what saves your skin, being able to pass yourself off as a tradesman or... whatever.

Franz Mueller:
Greta, listen to me. They will give us both political asylum, I am sure-

Greta Mueller:
No!

Franz:
...and soon we will be able to arrange for Mama and Papa.

Greta:
Nein! Don't you understand? I don't want asylum! I am not political! I am a musician!

Jessica:
Michael, you are going to help her, aren't you?

Michael:
A sweet young thing like that, Jessica? We're already working on it.

Jessica:
"Francoise". I read about that place in The New Yorker. Apparently half the advertising deals on Madison Avenue are cooked up at the tables over lunch.

Howard Griffin:
Yeah, three martinis, a salad, and your name in Advertising Age for dessert.

Aubrey Thornton:
[about Victoria's career in advertising] She's got everything to go the distance in this racket: Brains, youth, good looks and a very high threshold for humiliation.

Victoria Griffin:
Mr. Kinkaid, you may own this agency, but you don't own me. You're the one who accepts all the fancy awards, but it's people like me and Aubrey and Phil Conklin, God rest his soul, who have always ground it out for you!

Aubrey:
At least you don't have to worry about Larry stabbing you in the back. He always gives it to you right in the chest.

Jessica:
You know, Miss Clifford, I find the advertising business just fascinating. It's so competitive, and yet, it's so chummy.

Lt. Spoletti:
Why is it I always figure gorgeous blondes are lying to me?

Jessica:
Adolescent trauma, Lieutenant.

Aubrey Thornton:
[after Jessia exposes him as the murderer] You think you've got it all planned, every little detail, and then you get suckered by one little mistake. He cheated me. He humiliated me. I sat in my office for months, trying to figure out how to get him. And it, it seemed like a perfect plan. He did not even look up. That arrogant, pompous phony. I wanted him to know that it was me. And, you know, killing him with the award, that wasn't improvisation. That was part of the plan. Nice touch, don't you think?

Dr. Wylie Graham:
And, please, call me Wylie. For the past 30 years, it's either been Doc or Commander, or a whole lot worse.

Dr. Hazlitt:
Amos, that piece of paper you're puttin' under my windshield wiper better be an invitation to a clambake.

Sheriff Tupper:
No, it's a parking ticket.

Dr. Hazlitt:
And that is an M.D. license plate.

Sheriff Tupper:
And that is a fire hydrant. The law is the law.

Dr. Hazlitt:
Wait until your sciatica starts acting up again.

Ross Barber:
Oh, Gregory, when will I ever learn? Never put your trust in a sure thing.

Larry Gaynes:
I've seen your typewriter. It's prehistoric.

Jessica:
We work at the same speed.

Larry:
I can get you a state-of-the-art computer, complete with word processing at the factory price. And with a new piece of software called Novelrite.

Jessica:
Novelrite?

Larry:
Yeah. Five hundred and five best-selling plots, from Shakespeare to Sidney Sheldon. Takes the work out of being creative.

Jessica:
I've got a perfectly good guest room that hasn't been slept in for months.

David Everett:
Oh, no, I would not think of imposing.

Jessica:
Don't be silly!

David:
The neighbors are liable to start talking.

Jessica:
Do you really think so? Good. They think I lead a very dull life, chained to my typewriter.

Sheriff Tupper:
You see something?

Jessica:
It's what I don't see.

David:
I remember that expression. Jessie MacGill in her reverie.

Dr. Hazlitt:
Jessica, don't confuse Amos by bringing logic to bear.

Dr. Hazlitt:
Jess, I want you to get a real perspective on this thing. Now we are talking about a man who has spent his entire adult life traipsing all over the globe looking for the pot of gold. He was obsessed with it!

Jessica:
Seth, you don't know the first thing about him.

Dr. Hazlitt:
You are thinking with your funny bone and not with your head. This old friend of yours could turn out to be a cold-blooded killer.

Jessica:
Seth, I have known David Everett for the past 35 years.

Dr. Hazlitt:
Correction: You knew him 35 years ago.

David:
You know, Jessica, I've often lain awake, thinking about, uh, the road not taken and the word not spoken. Things might have been different for us. But then, they didn't turn out that way, did they? But believe me, with Frank, you got by far the best of it.

David:
Jessie MacGill, good-bye.

Billy Simms:
I don't care that she's a dipso with 33 cats and hasn't bathed in four months. What I wanna read about is she's a sweet old widowed grandmother whose greedy landlord kicked her out.

Lamar Bennett:
This is a morning paper, Mr. Drake. And I feel a certain responsibility to avoid sending our readers back to sleep.

Stan Lassiter:
His game plan isn't pretty, but the guy knows how to put points on the scoreboard.

Jessica:
Yes, and like so many others you continue to play for him, right?

Stan:
Sports writing's all I know, Mrs. Fletcher. Besides, integrity doesn't buy a whole lotta pastrami.

Walter Revere:
We're supposed to be showing our bright happy faces here. Sober, I'm not sure I can manage.

Kay:
He and Bennett go back a long way.

Stan:
Oh, yeah, way back! Clear back to when Billy was just a hatchet boy.

Kay:
It's just unbelievable.

Stan:
Yeah, kinda makes you wonder where you turn next for your aggravation quota.

Lt. Caruso:
The medical examiner thinks Lamar Bennett may have been murdered.

Jessica:
Really? The newspaper says nothing-

Lt. Caruso:
That makes two of you.

Haskell Drake:
Excuse me, but I mean a man with his rotten disposition, God would get him.

Jessica:
Well, God may have gotten a little help.

Haskell:
You remember that summer you worked for the wire service, and you did some research for me? That empty oil tank storage swindle?

Jessica:
You had me running all over New England.

Haskell:
Yeah, and your head was all cluttered with hearts and flowers and Frank Fletcher, huh? You wanted to be a teacher? Ah, what the hell! Forget it, forget it! You weren't much help then anyway.

Jessica:
Are you kidding? I was terrific! You said so yourself! I would've made a first-rate reporter.

Haskell:
Uh, yeah, maybe.

Jessica:
Maybe? On my worst day, I was the best legman you ever had!

Haskell:
[Mock laughter] That's the way you remember it!

Jessica:
Haskell Drake, you- you are impossible! You're ornery and deceitful and devious!

Haskell:
Not to mention manipulative.

Jessica:
Well, for starters, how would you rate Lamar Bennett as a newspaperman?

Kay:
A very narrow sense of story. A flair for the dramatic but no real feel for human interest.

Clyde Thorson:
Mrs. Fletcher, I don't wanna talk to you because I heard what you and Mr. Drake are tryin' to do to Mr. Bennett, makin' him a bad person.

Jessica:
Mr. Thorson, if that were true, I'd only question people who disliked him.

Haskell:
Whoa, whoa, hold it, hold it! Where's your lead paragraph?

Jessica:
Well, I'm coming to that.

Haskell:
Before you do, they'll be reading the vitamin content off their cereal boxes.

Haskell:
[Chuckling after talking to a society editor] A couple of more minutes and I'd have enough to blackmail half the people in Tulsa.

Lt. Caruso:
[About being a woman in the police force] Some ex-jock can hang a dead fish on the wall or maybe what's left of a moose who didn't move fast enough. That's okay. But when I bring in a few geraniums, you can hear the snickers all the way to Brockton.

Lt. Caruso:
You type a nice report, Officer. Anybody ever read this stuff?

Policewoman:
Not that I know of, ma'am. I think it goes straight to the files.

Nurse Phillips:
Mr. Drake, French fries are not a part of your diet.

Haskell:
Don't you dare! No, but you'd rather poison me with chipped beef and tapioca pudding, right?

Jessica:
I understand how you feel, how much you loved the good things about him, but admitting the truth doesn't mean you can't keep those memories.

Haskell:
I have been offered a big overseas assignment in Hong Kong, Singapore and Bangkok. By Newsmonth, no less.

Jessica:
Haskell, that's marvelous! When? :Haskell: Oh! Well, um, as soon as you hand me my trousers.

Capt. Frank Browning:
Don't hold your breath waiting for the bail hearing. Sometimes the paperwork gets misplaced. Sometimes we even lose prisoners.

Jason Bryan:
I don't know what you want, Mrs. Fletcher, but I can't help you.

Jessica:
Oh, you already have, Mr. Bryan.

Jessica:
Captain, I wouldn't dream of asking you to bend your personal policy for me but a friend of mine in Washington asked me to call the governor while I was here, just a friendly chat. And I intend to compliment the governor on the personal attention that you give to police department policy. The name is Browning, isn't it?

Jessica:
Well, I'll have to have a chat with him.

Thomas Magnum:
I'm not so sure that's a good idea. We don't know anything about this guy. He could be dangerous. You could get hurt.

Jessica:
As a professional, if you were out, what would you do?

Magnum:
I'd talk to Arthur Houston and get some answers.

Jessica:
Well, Mr. Magnum, since you can't, I will.

Pamela Bates:
I only wanted to return her cookbook. The one she bought and wrapped so prettily for her Aunt Grace? She wanted me to keep it for her, but l-

Jessica:
Oh, what pretty paper. It's very light for a book. Maybe it was for dieters.

Amy Salyer:
I'll thank you to return my property, please.

Pamela:
Amy, dear. I think you owe us some kind of an explanation.

Amy:
On the contrary, I think you owe me one. When I give you a package to keep for me, I don't expect you to open it.

Victor Salyer:
Look, I know that I'm not the easiest person to live with, but you see, I love her very much. I just want her to know that I'll forgive her anything if only she'll come back to me.

Joan Fulton:
Love, honor and forgive? They ought to change the vows!

Jessica:
I'm not sure that the diamonds have got anything to do with it. Amy told me that the diamonds were left to her by her grandmother.

Magnum:
And you believed her?

Jonathan Higgins:
Magnum.

Magnum:
Well, uh... Come to think of it, I-I can see how you might, uh... It's kind of like the plots of one of your novels, right? Uh, which one? Was it, uh- No, it's not that one. Yeah, I remember.

Higgins:
Magnum, it's the only one I sent you. Do you mean you actually read it?

Magnum:
Of course, I read it. At least most of it.

Jessica:
You didn't finish it?

Magnum:
Oh, no, I'm going to finish it. But, uh, I already kind of figured out that your killer's the psychiatrist.

Jessica:
Actually, it was the lawyer.

Joan:
You're going to tell me I have to stop flirting with every man on the island. Jessica, when it comes to grieving, I already gave.

'[When Magnum got into Jessica's hotel room by picking the lock]

Jessica:
You could've knocked!

Magnum:
Well, I did. I guess you didn't hear me with the water running.

Jessica:
Oh, I see. So you just let yourself in? How do you propose to conduct your little conference? With me in the tub?

Magnum:
I, uh, finished your book, Jessica. Now I would've thought Dashiell Hammett was more my style, but I really like the way your mind works.

Victor:
[Holding a crowbar] This was very effective in opening the door. I'll bet it's just as good at opening a head.

Joan:
Men always underestimate me. The secret of my success.

Joan:
If I hadn't gotten Houston, he would have sent someone else. Call it self-preservation. It's one of those economic principles they don't teach you at business school.

Magnum:
So, Jessica, what do you say we make a deal? If you don't take out a private investigator's license, I won't buy a typewriter.

Kevin Keats:
You could have suggested they give the job to a newsman.

Nick Brody:
Hear hear!

Paula Roman:
"Newsperson," please.

Kevin:
I'm prepping part two of the Ron Ross expos.

Doug Helman:
Uh, well... There's not going to be a part two. The legal department killed it.

Kevin:
That stinks, Doug.

Nick Brody:
The sweet smell of sup-press.

Kevin:
Don't you worry about your Cabot Cove gig. I have no intention of drowning in the backwaters of Maine.

Doug:
Check your contracts. You have a choice. Either take the assignment or go off salary.

Kevin:
On the other hand, I've always loved the smell of sea air. I hope the tide's in.

Jessica:
I just got a few things.

Dr. Graham:
Uh-huh. Including a new outfit to wear on television? It's one of the symptoms.

Jessica:
Oh, is it going around?

Dr. Graham:
Lots of foolishness. Everything shined up, everybody's wearin' their Easter duds. I even saw Nils Anderson slappin' on a fresh coat of paint.

Jessica:
Well, I don't see anything foolish about that.

Dr. Graham:
How nice does a live bait stand have to look?

Kevin:
Is this the way you always look?

Jessica:
Why? Is there anything wrong with the way I look?

Kevin:
No, it's just that my image of you is more homespun.

Kevin:
Is it always this quiet?

Jessica:
On a good day, you can hear the wind, the ocean and the seagulls.

Kevin:
[Seeing Sheriff Tupper] And which is that?

Judith Keats:
I know what you're up to.

Kevin:
It's not your business anymore, Judith. Don't intrude in my life.

Judith:
You really should learn the difference between an intrusion and a warning.

Kevin:
Scrutiny's a hit for one reason, and you're lookin' at him. They toss out producers like so many empty beer cans, but I keep rolling along.

Jessica:
Like the rest of America, I've been a fan of Nick Brody and the news.

Nick:
You're very kind. I guess I am kind of an institution. Something like the Staten Island Ferry.

Patti:
Oh, Nick, you're beginning to sound like a producer.

Nick:
It's worse than that. I'm beginning to think like one.

Commentator:
Perhaps the greatest tragedy is where Kevin Keats met his end. Urbane, hard-nosed, a legend in his own time, a man who faced death a hundred times in hot spots all around the world, Keats was blown to bits in a jerkwater village where even the crickets die of boredom, where the part-time mayor conducts town business from a 5x5 room in the back of his office, and the sheriff is responsible for supplying the boat that caused his death.

Richard Abbott:
In Televisionland, when the canoe springs a leak, one doesn't bail water. One just looks for a new canoe.

Dr. Graham:
I guess I'm not in the same class as Seth.

Jessica:
Or the class he thinks he's in.

Nick:
I'm a newsman. I'm not a performer. I tried to tell Doug that. But whatever he started out believing, in the end, he bought the idea that the wrapping paper - the wrapping paper - was more important than the package.

1st Reporter:
Ms. Tarrow, was your stay in the Arizona Health Clinic a success?

Maggie Tarrow:
Well, the weather was dry and so am I.

2nd Reporter:
Does this mean The Battling Lords are rekindling their romance?

Maggie:
I'm not sure. Bonfires can be dangerous.

1st Reporter:
So we can add acting to your list of credits, Ms. Fletcher?

Jessica:
Certainly not, no. But I was Applewood's 2nd best set painter. And in case you haven't guessed, there were only two.

Maggie:
[After catching Larry and Pru together] Larry, may I suggest that you save your performance such as it is for the stage? And Pru, darling, remind me! You are the resident stage manager, yes? Not the resident bedspread?!

Chief Merton P. Drock:
What's my motivation in this scene?

Alexander Preston:
You're a butler. Your motivation is to buttle.

[When Julian learns that Barbara may replace Maggie]

Julian Lord:
You have a personal services contract with Barbara Bennington.

Nicky Saperstein:
That has nothing to do with this!

Julian:
Which no doubt includes other kinds of services as well!

Nicky:
Will you get your mind out of your pants?

Julian:
Stop trying to run this show from yours!

Jessica:
Chief, the first rule: Be thorough. Explore every possibility.

Jessica:
I've been watching you, and frankly, you're far more interested in the lives of Julian and Maggie.

T.J.Holt:
And I've been watching you nosing around. And frankly, ma'am, forgive me, but you are something of a busybody.

Jessica:
Well, call it professional curiosity.

Alexander Preston:
Just what is it you're looking for, Jessica?

Jessica:
Vital statistics.

Alexander Preston:
If you're looking for accuracy in an actor's resume, my dear, you're looking in the wrong place.

Julian:
Jessica, whatever you're thinking, you're wrong.

Jessica:
You don't know how much I wish that were true.

Jessica:
My goodness, look at you. You've lost a lot of weight.

Dorian Beecher:
Cafeteria food. Thousands for bridles and bits but not one penny for a decent steak.

Dorian:
Her name is Sarah. Sarah Dupont. Soft, angelic, a prelude by Liszt, a painting by Renoir.

Jessica:
She sounds lovely.

Dorian:
Her father, on the other hand, Edwin Dupont, is my employer at the academy. A dirge by Berlioz. A bad dream by Dalí.

[Jessica is put on the spot when she is obliged to act as Dorian Beecher's mother]

Edwin Dupont:
Mrs. Beecher, aren't you a bit young to have a son Dorian's age?

Jessica:
Well, actually, becoming Dorian's mother was one of the biggest surprises of my life.

Charlotte Newcastle:
I want you to stay away from Edwin's daughter. Satisfy your needs elsewhere.

Nate Findley:
Is that an order or an offer?

Bobbie:
Dorian, she is exactly the way you described her. Elegant as a duchess, soft as a kitten, with eyes that smile with a child's laughter.

Jessica:
Dorian, did you say that about me?

Dorian:
Well, yes, I suppose I did.

Bobbie:
I'm not sure he remembers, Mrs. Beecher. He was totally polluted at the time. Can I get you something?

Dorian:
Yeah, I'll have a very dry martini. Make that a double.

Jessica:
Dorian, make that a single, dear. I don't want you polluted with me.

Edwin Dupont:
Now, Mrs. Fletcher, it is my considered opinion that your friend Dorian Beecher is a cold-blooded killer. But in the unlikely event that you prove otherwise, give him a message for me. He is never again to see my daughter, or there could very likely be another killing in this town.

Charlotte:
It is Mrs. Fletcher, isn't it? News travels fast. I just got off the phone with Edwin Dupont. Dorian has good taste in mothers even if they are stand-ins.

Dentist Penn "Doc" Walker:
You loosened a cap, but I can recement it for you.

Dorian:
Is it gonna hurt?

Doc:
With all that vodka you're been drinking?

Blanton:
We're delighted you're flying with us, Miss Greer. If I may be of any service-

Sonny Greer:
Be sure the food's hot, and the drinks are cold. We'll get along famously.

Dr. Cliff Strayhorn:
[Referring to his career as a plastic surgeon] Sonny, I'd starve if the world were filled with such ageless beauties as you.

Sonny:
Chin up, in 20 years when it all starts to fall.

Sonny:
[When Jessica inadvertently was pushed by a member of the paparazzi] I'm so sorry. But with Madonna out of the country, someone has to be shot.

Gunnar Globle:
Level with me. Are you anybody?

Jessica:
I'm a writer.

Gunnar:
A writer? Thank you, God! Even for me, you listen up.

Jessica:
Well, I think we're all very grateful that you're on board, Inspector.

Errol Pogson:
Correction. All of us but one.

Otto Hardwick:
Charles Lindbergh had less hassle soloing across the Atlantic than I've been subjected to.

Errol:
Then next time, why don't you do what he did? Fly alone.

Jessica:
Mr. Globle! Here's your script. You know, I can't tell you how much I enjoyed the sophisticated imagery and the poetic wit. I see it as a cross between cinema verité and-

Gunnar:
Imagery and cinema verité?

Jessica:
Yes, I think if you change the title, it might do very well in those quaint little, uh, art theaters.

Customs Man:
Anything to declare, sir?

Gunnar:
Yes. This is a dud.

Jessica:
Thanks, Grady, but that breakfast you fixed for me this morning? I mean it really stuck to my ribs.

Grady Fletcher:
You mean my famous tuna omelet?

Jessica:
Mm-hmm.

Grady:
Well, wait till you see this. Tuna surprise!

Jessica:
Oh, darling, you've been surprising me all week.

Mona:
And don't let that break in the storm fool you. Hurricane Ida is dancin' her way up the coast, and before you know it, she'll be tangoin' in Cabot Cove.

Dr. Hazlitt:
Well, Amos. Got a good recipe for crow, have you? 'Cause that's what we're gonna be eatin' when we tell Jessica about this murder.

Sheriff Tupper:
Morgan said he located you at the beach house, Adam. Is that where you were last night around 10:00?

Adam Morgan:
Yes, I invited a young lady up to go sailing. Ah, Miss, um-what is her name?

Sheriff Tupper:
In a hurricane?

Adam:
Well, Sheriff, since sailing was out of the question, we decided on something else that we both enjoyed.

Adam:
[About Dody Rogers] Frankly, Sheriff, if she treated Gordon with the same affection she shows that pampered little puss, their marriage would look a whole lot less like a rerun of Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf.

Sheriff Tupper:
Adam was in the family beach house with a lady from Portland except the lady's no lady. She's got an arrest sheet as long as a chorus girl's legs.

Jessica:
Do you ever get the feeling that you've overlooked something obvious? That you've done something wrong?

Dr. Hazlitt:
Yeah. Every time I vote for Amos.

Jessica:
Did you ever try to argue with a computer? It is impossible. It's like trying to talk sense to Amos Tupper once he's made up his mind about something.

Chad:
What am I supposed to do? Join the public defender's office? Terrific. Send me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, your guilty.

Mike:
That is cynical!

Jenny:
And sick!

Chad:
But accurate.

Danny Young:
Where's Chad?

Jenny:
Home studying. He's having trouble with his torts.

Danny:
You know, I hear they can cure that these days.

Chad:
It's like my Uncle Jack always said: "Findin' a fox in the henhouse don't necessarily mean nothin', unless, of course, he's pickin' feathers out of his teeth".

Jenny:
Mike didn't kill anyone.

Chad:
And all we have to do is prove it.

Jenny:
Is that the royal we, or am I included in this mess?

Chad:
It was my bright theory the system always worked, remember?

Jenny:
So who says you're always so bright?

Christine Stoneham:
Are you married, Mr. Singer?

Chad:
No, I'm not, but I hope to be as soon as I pass the bar.

Christine:
It's not a step to be taken lightly. These days, people don't seem to care very much about commitment.

Chad:
I brought in a pizza.

Jenny:
You eat. I popped a button on my jeans this morning. I'm fasting till Yom Kippur.

Max Hellinger:
You think I killed him? What for? I needed his music.

Chad:
Maybe he was holdin' out on you. Maybe he was hittin' you up for more money.

Max:
Maybe. Maybe you need something stronger to drink than that beer you're nursing.

Chad:
Everyone but the pope is at the college that night, and Michael's the one they find standin' over the body. Forgive me, I'm-I'm O.D.-ing on frustration here.

Dr. Jayne Honig:
I can sum up the problem in two words: Kenneth Chambers. Steve produces his program.

Jessica:
Chambers? Oh, yes, I remember, you wrote me about him. A compulsive egomaniac suffering from delusions of grandeur?

Jayne:
That was last month. These days he's even worse.

Lynette Bryant:
Kenneth, there isn't a South American coup that can match the one I just pulled off. The Hammet Cheese tapes. They're all we need to throw Hammet into the fondue as it were.

Jessica:
As I remember, you were the life of the party, Mr. Warren.

Robert Warren:
Oh, well, forgive me, Mrs. Fletcher. What wasn't a blur is a complete blank.

Jessica:
That's very convenient.

Robert:
[Laughs] But when one's best friend steals the love of his life from under his nose, it's either "Laugh, Clown, Laugh" or slit your wrists and I didn't have the blood to spare.

Robert:
Jayne and I had years of pillow talk. Of course, I was the only one with my head on the pillow. She was taking notes.

Jessica:
I'm a very good listener with a very short memory.

Jessica:
I am a writer. Crime is my beat. Murder my specialty.

Lt. Lou Flannigan:
Ma'am, you're just an observer here.

Jessica:
Yes, and what I've observed is a complete lack of common sense!

Jessica:
Ms. Bryant, forgive me, but it all looks very much as if The Bottom Line isn't quite as dead as Kenneth Chambers.

Jessica:
I understand that you threatened him.

Joe Rinaldi:
Threaten? I don't threaten. I negotiate.

Jessica:
Why was he sitting with his back to the door?

Lt. Flannigan:
[Laughing] To the untrained eye, it must seem strange, but if you'll notice, there's a TV and a VCR behind the desk on that shelf there. He was watching TV.

Jessica:
Uh, Lieutenant, with due respect for your trained eye, that is impossible. I was in Mr. Chambers's office and, uh, his television was broken.

Lt. Flannigan:
Broken?

Jessica:
Broken. Which makes me wonder what he was doing sitting in that odd position.

Lt. Flannigan:
Well, obviously...

Jessica:
Yes?

Lt. Flannigan:
Obviously, uh, this is gonna take some thought.

Harry:
A few months ago, I take a job from this guy, Benny Falcone, to chase down his daughter, who's run off with some saxophone player. He gives me 5,000, and off I go. Only a week later, the daughter and the sax player show up on his doorstep and move in with him. Now, not only is Falcone steamed at his kid, but he's not too thrilled with me. And he wants his five thou back, which I can't give him, because I no longer have it.

Jessica:
But he can't do that!

Harry:
So I explained. Except he suddenly developed a loss of hearing and threatened osteopathic damage to my legs unless I cough up.

Pam Collins:
You ever heard of freedom of the press, fella?

Cosmo Ponzini:
Oh, yeah. And I also heard of private property, which this is!

Cosmo:
You try to take down the fight business, and a roof might just fall in on your head, you understand?

Reporter Dave Robinson:
Was that a threat?

Cosmo:
Well, if it isn't, I must've said it wrong!

Wade Talmadge:
You an expert on the manly art of pugilism, darling?

Lois Ames:
No, darling, just the manly art.

Wade:
Good evening, McGraw. Mind if I come in?

Harry:
Hey, listen, if the cockroaches don't care, why should I?

Lt. Casey:
Wade Talmadge had more enemies than there are beans in Boston.

Lois:
Got a light?

Harry:
Sorry, doll face, I'm fresh out.

Lois:
Funny. You strike me as the type that plays with matches.

Harry:
Not me. I don't like gettin' burned.

Lois:
You only get burned when you're careless. Me, I'm very careful.

Harry:
Honey, whatever it is you're sellin', you better peddle it someplace else. Right now, I'm interested in only one thing: Self-preservation.

Harry:
You know, when you're rollin' sevens, you don't ask to see the dice.

Dave:
That's the first thing they taught me at the Scranton School of Journalism: Murder makes a great headline!

Jessica:
[Chuckles] If you're worried about me, Doc, I can go on like this forever.

Doc:
Yeah, if forever comes tomorrow morning.

Jessica:
You know, when they found the body, he was wearing a pair of slacks and a plain white shirt.

Pam:
No. No, that doesn't sound like Talmadge. Dave and I bird-dogged him for months. He wouldn't be caught dead lookin' like that.

Jessica:
Yeah, but that's just the point. He was caught dead looking like that.

Dennis McConnell:
Still tryin' to make sense of the ponies, Doc?

Doc:
Everybody needs a hobby.

Dennis:
Expensive.

Doc:
So's women and booze. I tried 'em both. Horses don't talk back, and they don't give you a hangover.

Harry:
I made a deal with the TV people.

Jessica:
But the fight has been canceled!

Harry:
I know. But I sold them something even better. The inside story of a tough, resourceful private eye, who single-handedly broke open one of the largest murder cases of the decade.

Jessica:
Single-handedly?

Harry:
So I exaggerated a little. What's a little white lie between friends?

Eleanor Thane:
Left to his own devices, Simon wouldn't see anyone, which is a situation I intend to correct.

Felix Casslaw:
This absolutely scruffy fellow comes off Fifth Avenue and into my gallery. I thought he'd been sleeping in Central Park.

Eleanor:
[Laughs] He probably came in to get out of the cold.

Felix:
Well, I'd already buzzed security when he had picked out six of Simon's seascapes and wrote me a check in seven figures.

Carol Selby:
I know! He found somebody's checkbook!

George Selby:
More likely mugged someone.

Felix:
Naturally, I don't waste time on people of that ilk. I'd already refused his check and had him hustled out.

Jessica:
Is it just instinct or is there a little twist to this story?

Felix:
Your instincts do not fail you, Jessica. The next morning, I just happened to be glancing at the Times, and there was this gentleman's picture. He was giving a rock concert at Madison Square Garden.

Simon Thane:
So you see, you can't always judge a man by his clothes.

Eleanor:
Seven figures. I feel a deep sense of loss, Felix.

Felix:
Not to mention my commission.

Carol:
You know, George and I have three Simon Thane's.

George:
Best investment we ever made. Makes the Dow Jones look sick.

Felix:
A pinch of mystery always adds luster to an artist's aura, not to mention value.

George:
I was gonna have another brandy.

Carol:
Well, George, you've had enough to open your own monastery.

Jessica:
One of the hardest things about losing a husband is all the little things he leaves behind. Sooner or later, when the pain subsides, you have to put them away.

Sheriff Tupper:
Has all the earmarks of a crime of passion.

Jessica:
Passion?

Sheriff Tupper:
I know that Simon Thane is somethin' of an institution around here. But just because there's a little snow on the roof, don't mean that there's no fire in the hearth, if you get my drift.

Jessica:
I get your drift, Amos. I just think your anchor is slipping.

Jessica:
You've got (Simon's) signature down very well.

Felix:
Well, you see, Jessica, uh, since these are unquestionably Thane paintings, the signature is merely a technicality.

Jessica:
And a signed Simon Thane is technically more valuable than an unsigned one.

Felix:
There's no doubt in your mind, is there? That Irene Rutledge killed Simon?

Jessica:
Until everything is brought out into the open, there's always some doubt.

[About attending his son's wedding to his old enemy's daughter]

Mack Howard:
Honey, I'm not gonna be able to go to that thing tonight. Sorry but I got a very important writers' meeting after the taping.

Trudy Howard:
The car's downstairs, darling. I found your favorite old tweed jacket. It's going to be perfect for you up in the mountains.

Mack:
Honey, I don't think you quite understand. This is a very important week. The ratings are coming out and- I know that you can explain to Kip and Corrie. They'll understand.

Trudy:
Oh, of course I will, darling. And by the way, I do happen to have a locksmith standing by. Because if you don't come, don't bother coming back to the apartment.

Norma Lewis:
[About Murray] Phil, don't you know aggravation is his life?

Murray Gruen:
[About Norma] That's right. That's why I keep her around.

Norma:
The way I figure it, either you pay the painter or the plumber or the electrician. What it totals out to is if you want this place to look good, use the toilet or see what you're doing.

Jessica:
I'm afraid it's a somewhat less festive group than we'd hoped for.

Phil Rinker:
There's always the chance that it'll look better through a brandy glass.

Chief Ledbetter:
Acting Chief Wylie B. Ledbetter, ma'am.

Jessica:
And what do your friends call you?

Chief Ledbetter:
Acting Chief Wylie B. Ledbetter, ma'am.

Jessica:
[Reading a lab report] "Exhibit B: the knife Murray was stabbed with. Traces of dried white household enamel embedded in wooden handle grip."

Chief Ledbetter:
I figured somebody used it to scrape paint.

Jessica:
With a handle?

Trudy:
I just hope that Corrie and Kip and I will never let their fathers get within 50 miles of each other ever again.

Jessica:
If only because of their diets. They're both eating as if it's going out of style.

Norma:
Don't knock it, Jessica. With their mouths full, they can't talk to each other.

Trudy:
So, what we're left with is that one of us is a killer. [Sigh] And lucky us. We all get to spend another night together.

Ralph Whitman:
We're very pleased with your progress, both Mr. Carlisle and myself. We feel you've, uh... you've earned this added responsibility.

Grady:
Thank you, sir.

Ralph:
Forget the sir. It's Ralph.

Grady:
Ralph, right. Thank you, Sir Ralph. I mean, just Ralph...sir. Thank you.

Mrs. Ellis:
I hear your aunt is coming for a visit. That's nice. You show her a good time. You know, aunts are very neglected these days.

Grady:
Not this one.

Mrs. Ellis:
Are you sure? Tax troubles I don't need.

Grady:
Believe me, government agents won't be banging down your door with a warrant.

Mrs. Ellis:
Ha-ha, that's what Nixon thought.

Paul Carlisle:
Oh, Mrs. Fletcher, how delightful to meet you at last!

Jessica:
Why, thank you.

Paul:
I can see where Grady gets his sharp mind from. I've been a fan of your books for 20 years.

Jessica:
Oh...? Yes... Well, thank you very much.

Paul:
I always say there's nothing like a good, old-fashioned love story to help you forget your cares.

Grady:
Well, actually, sir, she, uh-

Jessica:
Oh, I quite agree with you, Mr. Carlisle. I mean, where would we be without Barbara Cartland?

Lester Grinshaw:
I've been trying to interface with you now for several days.

Ralph:
Look, it's nearly 6:30. Can't this wait?

Lester:
The Internal Revenue Service does not wait, Whitman. We act quickly and decisively... with compassion and understanding, of course.

Ralph:
Of course. You know the way, Mr. Grimshaw.

Lester:
Excuse me.

Ralph:
[To Jessica and Grady, with a sigh] Well, have a nice dinner. I have a feeling mine's going to be a bowl of cereal at midnight.

Jessica:
Grady, the only things that go bump in the night in this city are the taxicabs, believe me.

Jessica:
(Grady) told me that he had reported the crime.

Lt. Timothy Hanratty:
That he did.

Jessica:
So obviously he didn't kill Mr. Whitman.

Lt. Hanratty:
Well, it's unlikely.

Jessica:
Unlikely?!!

Lt. Hanratty:
Now, now, Mrs. Fletcher. Let's not be giving ourselves a bellyache until after we've tasted the stew.

Lester:
Bottom line, Fletcher. You've got 48 hours to come up with the figures.

Grady:
Figures? What figures?

Lester:
[Laughs] Don't play dumb with me, pal. It's been tried by experts, believe me, some of whom are doing three-to-five in Leavenworth.

Grady:
I don't know what you're talking about.

Lester:
Neptune Ventures. Whitman said you're the engine driving that crummy tax dodge.

Grady:
Me?!

Lester:
Save the dumb look. All I want is one thing. Facts, figures, names, dates, places, the whole megillah.

Lt. Hanratty:
I took the liberty of pullin' a small file we have on your activities, mum. The young lady murdered by that cosmetic executive, your very own publisher sent away because of your ingenuity. I'm surprised the department hasn't given you a gold badge.

Jessica:
Well, it's, uh, just a quirk of mind, really. The way I see things, you know.

Connie:
Sorry, Mrs. Ellis. Mr. Fletcher's going to be a little late.

Mrs. Ellis:
So I'll wait. I've had plenty of practice.

Lt. Hanratty:
Look, son, between you and me and these walls, I also am having a bit of trouble believing you're involved. But the commissioner-

Jessica:
Oh, Timothy, hang the commissioner. Since when is an Irishman intimidated by a bureaucrat?

Marty:
Lady, I got no time!

Jessica':
Make time, Mr. Giles, or would you rather do it?

Sheriff Orville Yates:
Folks around here know better than to make threats against the sheriff.

Jessica:
Where I come from, folks don't have to make threats. The sheriff upholds the law.

Linda Stevens:
Jim said there's a rumor he won his first election by the cemetery vote.

Jessica:
The what?

Linda:
Oh, you know, copying names off tombstones to cast extra votes on election day. Yates was a heavy favorite with the R.I.P. crowd.

Jessica:
I feel as though that truck ran over me a few times.

Linda:
And I thought soaking in a hot tub would help take away some of the pain from your bruises. You were in the tub for an hour.

Jessica:
Well, I soaked for ten minutes. But it took me the rest of the time to get in and out.

Kate Gunnerson:
Orville's not a big gambler like his deputy.

Sheriff Yates:
Yeah, Wayne ain't exactly cautious.

Kate:
He's willing to take chances to better himself. That's how you play the game.

Sheriff Yates:
What game is that, Kate? :Kate: There's only one game. It has different names.

Sheriff Yates:
You talking about politics?

Kate:
That's one name. Another is Gettin' Rich. In case you hadn't noticed, I play to win.

David Carroll:
After I got off the phone with you, I wasn't sure I had the time correctly. I mean, nobody meets at city hall at this hour.

Jessica:
Forgive me. I'm a writer. We work at all hours.

Jessica:
Seth, I know this sounds just terrible, but it's just too nice to work here. And they keep sending up these baskets. I've got more spoiling fruit than a zoo.

Jessica:
You know, Rod, maybe the reason that you couldn't prove that it was suicide was because it wasn't.

Rod Wilson:
I thought you believed Pop.

Jessica:
I do. But there may be a third possibility that nobody's considered. Mr. Jarvis could have been murdered by somebody else.

Jessica:
Thank you for taking time to see me on such short notice, Ms. Davis.

Dorothy Hearn Davis:
I have a confession to make. Actually, I prefer Missus.

Jessica:
So do I.

Dorothy:
You don't know the first thing about my grandfather! How dare you come waltzing in here and make accusations against him like this! Get out! Get out of my office!

Jessica:
If you'll forgive me, Mrs. Davis, it appears to me that you suspect your grandfather more than anyone.

Rod:
Jessica, you agree with me, don't you? Justice has to be served!

Jessica:
[Sighs] Justice is always imperfect, Rod. Besides, sometimes there's a difference between serving the ideal of justice and doing what's best.

Sam Wilson:
I don't know how to thank you.

Jessica:
Just be happy.

[At a recording session]

Al Parker:
Gold! Pure gold, guys!

Stoney Carmichael:
Heck, Al, you'd say the Partridge Family was platinum if it'd get us out of here. Play it back for us.

Al:
Stoney, my man, we gotta get that retake in tonight if we're gonna deliver this album on time.

Stoney:
Al, my man, I got all the time in the world.

Greg Dalton:
By the way, I'm also very sorry, Mrs. Fletcher, about this evening session but it's the only time we seem to be able to get this studio.

Jessica:
Oh, I think that mystery stories should be read in the dark of the night, don't you?

Greg:
[Referencing his own blindness] You know, it's interesting. It's always the dark of the night to me.

Sally Ann Carmichael:
Stoney, quit treatin' me like a kid!

Stoney:
Honey, you are a kid.

Sally:
I gotta learn about this business if I'm gonna be a singer.

Stoney:
Okay, first rule is, take care of your band. Go get these boys some sodas.

Randy Witworth:
You want out of this contract, all you have to do is say so.

Stoney:
Oh, sure, and repay all your expenses plus 50% of any future contract I come up with.

Randy:
Nobody held a gun to your head to sign the contract when I found you in that dive in Waco.

Stoney:
Well, somebody got me mighty drunk.

Nancy Dalton:
Just a note of insincerity.

Jessica:
A note? Sounded more like a full-blown symphony to me.

Lt. Faraday:
I think writing is a real good hobby for a woman. You can cook up some supper. You can chat on the phone. Then pop over to the old typewriter now and then for a few minutes.

Jessica:
Yes, when I'm not too busy beating the laundry against the rocks in the river?

Greg:
Sunny Spain and the black hole of Calcutta are the same to me, Lieutenant. I'm blind.

Greg:
Nancy, I am happy. I have a wonderful wife, a good life... until I ended up here.

Nancy:
Why do you have to be so damn happy? So nice to Randy in front of me? Didn't you ever just wanna bash his face in?!

Greg:
Stop it! Just stop it! How do you know what I feel? You know what it's like to wake up every morning and open these eyes? Of course I hate it! And I hate him! But hating isn't gonna get me anywhere. Isn't that right, Jessica?

Jessica:
It's certainly very destructive.

Nancy:
But you have to acknowledge it! You have to deal with it! You can't just push it down, or it's gonna well up inside.

Greg:
You think I killed him, don't you?

Nancy:
I don't know you anymore, Greg. You don't confide in me. You don't let me do things for you. You have cut me off. Now all I am to you is your chauffeur.

Jessica:
Just like that power failure could have been caused by something else. I mean, we don't know that it was the master switch.

Lt. Faraday:
Ma'am, I'm getting just a little bit nervous about this "we" business.

Lt. Faraday:
Please, ma'am, please. You're smarter than this. Don't act like an irrational-

Jessica:
Please, Lieutenant, please. Preserve what respect I have for you, and don't say "irrational woman".

Lt. Faraday:
...irrational outsider. Now, ma'am, I really, really don't wanna see you coming around here anymore unless you're with some man here to arrange bail for Greg Dalton.

Jessica:
Lieutenant Faraday, believe it or not, there are women who can arrange bail. And besides that, you're the one behaving irrationally by failing to pursue all the leads in this case.

Margaret Witworth:
There's nothing clandestine about coming to see your husband at the office, is there?

Jessica:
Oh, of course not. I just can't help but wonder why you felt it was so important to make me believe that you didn't.

Lt. Faraday:
You really did help us wrap this whole thing up.

Jessica:
Well, thank you, Lieutenant. That's very nice of you.

Lt. Faraday:
And you've taught me something. As long as I live, I will never again...

Jessica:
Yes, Lieutenant?

Lt. Faraday:
...underestimate the power of women's intuition.