Murder, She Wrote... she wrote.

You can now follow “Murder, She Wrote… she wrote” on Instagram! @murdershewroteshewrote 

Setting: Crenshaw College in Crenshaw City…apparently
Family Members: None

Let me preface this entire episode by letting you all know that I have some seriously slow internet now. We got a deal on DSL, so it takes me about 2+ hours to capture a single episode of Murder, She Wrote. Yes, DSL still exists.

One might point out that a lengthier viewing time must be extremely fulfilling for such a Fletcher-o-phile as myself, and I won’t disagree. I actually watched this one in two parts, the second being heavily influenced by a few Bushmills neat. So, yeah, there are a lot of screen shots, heavy on the Jessica.

No one is mad about DSL now. Except my downloads.

Let’s not get too far off track… come with me, if you will, to the land of Classic Liberal Arts College.

Some beautiful youths must be learning so much here!

I’m not wrong! James Marshall (aka James Hurley from Twin Peaks)?!

Professor Laird is the Head of the English Department at Crenshaw, but we’ll get to her in a bit.

Where is Crenshaw College? Good question. According to the train station, it’s in…

Crenshaw City? Seems a tad easy, writers. Fortunately, we can’t dwell on it too long—we’ve got friends of Jessica’s to meet!

It’s Beryl and Henry Hayward. He’s a bigwig at Crenshaw and she’s Jessica’s friend from college. They’re basically useless, but they got J.B. on campus to give a speech at graduation, so not entirely useless. They’ve got a useless balance, if you will.

Here’s when we get going. The Head of the English Department  (the aforementioned Professor Jocelyn Laird) is throwing Jess a welcome party. You would not believe the amount of sexual tension in the English Dept.

That’s Laird on the left. You might recognize the fellow from the first screen shot. His name is Ron and he’s married, but when studying books is involved, all bets are off.

Here’s some more Older Bookish Sexpot:

Ron wants to be the new Assistant Head of the English Department, so does some old drip who teaches poetry.

Party-planning festivities get put on hold when Prof. Laird’s daughter, Daphne Clover, shows up. Daphne writes romance novels. Daphne brought her boyfriend, Nick.

The photobomb is courtesy of Alger (aforementioned old drip who teaches poetry).

On to the party! Presented without comment.

Za-Zing!

Even with the inventive punch, this party could use something to liven it up.

Enter Daphne, Nick, and a seemingly giant bottle of champagne.

That is a huge bottle, right? Or am I going crazy? Or are those things not mutually exclusive?

Daphne engages Jessica in a riveting conversation about art.

Yeah, I heard that too.

You, Jess?

Gotta love a classic Jessica you’re-an-idiot-but-it’s-cool wink and smile.

Time for Daphne’s big exit!

Oh girl, you got nothing on under that fur!

I bet everyone goes to sleep that night at a reasonable hour and wakes up the next morning refreshed and ready to start the day.

Not everyone?

Not Nick.

Jessica finds him. The police arrive. They think he jumped from a building under construction, but if that were true, shouldn’t there be dust and debris on his shoes?

Not even diamonds.

RIP.

The Police Chief is in disbelief.

Imagine that!

Professor Laird isn’t buying this whole “murder” thing either.

The Chief has to make the rounds—first stop: the ol’ girlfriend. Daphne and Nick first knew each other as students at Crenshaw.

Sexy.

Daphne has a lot of pictures around the pool house at her mother’s. Pictures of her with famous authors like Capote.

And this chick.

Jessica can smell a shitty Photoshop job.

This investigation is about to hit a dead end when a strange note is revealed.

So, Daphne doesn’t actually write romance novels. Professor Laird does and prints them under Daphne’s name. Nick used the info to blackmail Daphne.

Curious indeed. Someone’s trying to pretend Nick wrote the note, but shitty Photoshop jobs aren’t the only thing J.B. has a nose for. The letter’s a set-up! Whoever wrote the note killed Nick.

I’ll be honest, I’m not entirely sure how the dots in this last plot point were connected, but I trust MSW for the most part.

Jessica then decides to do some sleuthing of her own. First stop: back to Prof. Laird’s.

Her plan of attack: lure the professor in with technology chit-chat.

Playing the out of touch writer card, are we?

Word processor aside, Prof. Laird doesn’t have a typewriter that makes tilted e’s. On to bigger and better things!

He really knows what he’s doing!

In reality, he flip-flops between thinking Prof. Laird or her daughter did the deed.

Why’s that, Jess? Well, it at least couldn’t have been Daphne.

Oh right, the murder weapon was a candlestick.

Pretty proud of yourself, eh?

In the midst of everything, Ron is named the Assistant Head of the English Department. Feeling slighted, Alger gives his notice.

Oh, Alger. What a foolish man.

It seems he had a “thing” for Laird.

Jessica, can you get him to hurry this along?

Thank you.

Now that you caught the murderer, I give you permission to ride a bike off into the sunset. You give that graduation speech, girl!

Setting: New York City
Family Members: niece, Nita Cochran & Nita’s grandmother, Agnes Cochran (relationship to Jessica unknown)

I’ve been asking myself why it’s taken me so long to get this episode out and I finally realized it’s because it’s so fucking weird. First of all, there’s Jessica’s breathy niece Nita (great acting). Nita was raised by her grandmother, Agnes, whom we meet… BUT! We never figure out how Agnes is related to Jessica. Their last name is no help. I searched the Internet a bit and it’s not immediately clear and so I’ve given up.

You’re probably thinking, “Well, that’s annoying but not weird per say.” How about this: Jessica spends the entire episode in New York City and not once does she see or mention her nephew Grady. Totally weird. Also, the episode is called “Murder in the Afternoon” and the murder actually takes place at night. There’s also an attempted murder, but I’m pretty sure that’s not in the afternoon either.

The plot gets pretty hinky, too. Fortunately there are some excellent, real top of the line, guest stars. I’ll show you what I mean…

Ok, so the first scene seems like it’s going to be a murder: a writer wearing a smoking jacket works tirelessly in an elaborate room until his pushy, vixen of a lady friend summons him to bed.

The second said vixen leaves, there’s another figure at the door.

The writer is shot! Very melodramatic.

CUT! CUT! CUT!

Fooled again! It was the set of a soap opera all along.

Why would a young buck of a soap star want to fudge a take? Well, it seems the head writer/producer has very specific ideas for future of this particular show.

Oh, because he’s getting cut!

Who is this evil bitch Joyce?

It’s our first guest star, Jessica Walter! Doing a move she’d later perfect on Arrested Development…

That’s right, Lucille Bluth is killing off almost all the characters on her soap. But what about their contracts and paychecks?! Looks like someone is setting herself up to be offed…

The only people who are safe from her wrath are a hunk who is too boring for me to have a screen shot of (he’s the only one who wants to get off the show because he has better offers) and an old man named Julian who might be off his rocker. He’s been on the show so long it’s, apparently, hard to see where Julian ends and his character begins.

He also says really weird stuff like:

Not sure what you’re getting at, bud.

Who else works on the show? Well, Mackenzie Phillips of course!

She’s a young writer named Carol, toiling under Lucil…I mean Joyce’s tyranny.

Also there’s the Gordon LaMonica. He’s a director/producer type, played by Terry Kiser.

Trying to figure out how you know him? Sure, the size of his sunglasses changes but I’d know that mug anywhere.

It’s BERNIE from Weekend at Bernie’s (and Weekend at Bernie’s II)!

Ok, so by now you might be wondering how Jessica Fletcher fits in to all this. Well, her niece Nita is on the show as well!

I’m not sure where in NYC that nursing home is…

Nita is also afraid of losing her job. Joyce is probably going to make her be the masked murderer from the opening scene and that would mean her days are numbered.

On top of it all, whoever did her makeup for the episode should be fired.

“Oh that zit near your mouth? No one will notice if I put concealer on that doesn’t match your skin tone.”

Regardless, Jessica is very impressed by her niece.

I see what you did there.

Let’s go see what Joyce is up to. Ah, she’s writing in her office. Her husband, Larry, who is an actor on the show, is trying to sweet talk her.

As sweet as that is, none of us are fooled, Larry. We all know you have a side piece.

Ol’ Joyce doesn’t get to scowl for long, though. In a case of life imitating art imitating life…

RIP.

Like I mentioned before, this one has a lot of suspects.

Number 1: Larry. They fought, he’s cheating.

Nice rando “4.”

Number 2: everyone else on the show.

It looks like the police have a lead.

Wait, let’s get a closer look at that picture.

Um, he’s using a promotional picture of Nita dressed in the masked murderer outfit as evidence. Seems like solid police work to me!

Nita it is! Looks like Jessica has some work to do.

First stop is to visit Agnes.

Damnit, Jessica. The NYPD just told you the masked figure was seen at 9:45. Maybe it’s time to get your ears checked? Or get someone on set who can handle continuity? Or get someone to proof a script now and then?

While Jessica’s out spreading lies, Gordon is about to get one step closer to Weekend.

Fortunately, he survives. The only real downside to the shooting is that he must now pick up phones in the most uncomfortable way possible.

Time for some more excellent policery.

“…but before you go to Forensics, let’s both put our fingers all over it.”

Here’s where I think it gets incredibly weird.

Jessica figures out that Julian wore the costume to Joyce’s house and gets him to say so by feeding lines onto the teleprompter.

He’s totally unfazed by it.  Just trying to keep peace in the house?

THEN, Jessica says that Julian shot Joyce with a gun that only had blanks in it. So he didn’t really shoot her, she just got scared…?

And then Larry came back to the room…?

Larry denies it, but then Jessica pulls out the big guns. Pun intended.

Wait, what burglar? Never mind, it got Larry’s attention.

I don’t know. I don’t know how she got from Point A to Point C, but she did and it seems good enough for the NYPD.

Classic.

Setting: Cabot Cove
Family Members: None

Yes, indeed! We are back in the warm embrace of Jessica Fletcher’s home turf: Cabot Cove. And how have we decided to celebrate this occasion? Apparently, with the least thoughtful name bestowed upon an episode of Murder, She Wrote thus far. Are the writers all out of puns and allusions? Considering we’re still at the beginning of Season 2, I hope not. I suppose some people can ignore a poorly named episode of television—I’ve heard some people don’t even know what the titles of the episodes of their favorite shows are called. It’s true! Well, you can all breathe easy here because I take MSW episode titles very seriously.

It looks like a big developer has decided to start construction on a luxury hotel in this much-beloved town. It’s true, Cabot Cove is so special and quaint that people continue to love it, despite the frequency of murders that occur there.

Oh no! The people of Cabot Cove don’t seem so pleased with the idea of Big Business taking over.

Before we can focus too much on the turmoil, someone spots something in a ditch…

This is one of the best moments of synchronized-looking I’ve encountered yet. I might even have said it was the best if not for this numb nuts ruining it for everyone

Anyway, that something in a ditch turns out to be a skeleton, surprise, surprise. It’s time to call in the local doctor to inspect the body… and who might that be?

Yep, it’s what we’ve all been waiting for—that moment when a Wyoming lawyer becomes a New England doctor (and the ultimate sidekick to J.B. Fletcher). Soak it in, folks.

Once the Cabot Cove Trifecta of Crime-Solving (Fletcher, Tupper, and Hazlitt) arrives on the scene, guesses about whom the skeleton belongs to start flowing.

Amos Tupper always has a super plausible theory.

Seth is not easily convinced.

Maybe they should let Buzz weigh in? He’s smart enough to put his name on his helmet, who knows what he’d do with this situation!

Of course, Tupper and Hazlitt (that cantankerous duo!) have it out before Buzz can even get in a word.

Now, behind every large construction project there’s almost certainly an asshole with a great head of hair, and this here hotel is no exception.

You could say Henderson Wheatley is…displeased…over the fact that he has to pause work for a silly skeleton in a ditch.

Yeah! Shovel the bones out and keep moving people.

This construction worker with a superb mustache, who seems to do hard labor whilst wearing a leather jacket, is taking Wheatley’s outburst very seriously.

If only we could get him and Buzz together in a think tank, they could solve this whole thing real fast, starting by firing that guy who effed-up the synchronized turn. Might I suggest a belated spin-off show?

But I digress.

Wheatley continues to look shittier and shittier. There’s a reporter in town and she’s been on his case for years.

That’s investigative reporter Del Scott. Her ice-blue eyes will cut you like a knife. Truly, I find them very disorienting.

The takeaway is that Wheatley’s business might not actually be totally legit, which surprises no one but I guess they have to say it anyway.

We haven’t had a chance to check in with Jessica yet. Let’s see how she feels about all this.

Too real, Jess. Too real. Wipe that faraway look off your face; you’re really bringing everyone down.

She shakes it off just in time to decide to have her own look at the skeleton. Boy are she and Amos surprised when they go to the ditch together.

It’s a fresh victim! Wheatley!

Indeed.

Now Jessica really has something to investigate. First stop: outside the foreman’s trailer.

Leo Kowalski is not only menacing…he’s got a wound.

You do that, Leo. We’ll be back.

Some other obvious suspects would be the protesters. They’re being led by David Marsh.

Who’s David Marsh, you ask?

Of course, every town has one. It’s a tough cross to bear, but David’s a family man and likes to envision a better future for his kid.

Though, his son has been getting in schoolyard scraps trying to defend his father’s extreme ideas.

The old ball and chain is unamused.

“…ya dumb fuck.”

As if we don’t have enough going on already, the FBI shows up. WHA?!

Fred is a very imposing figure.

He’s been chasing some guy named Daniel Martin around for years—Daniel was a Vietnam War protester who might have dabbled in illegal activities.

According to Fred, Daniel Martin is none other than David Marsh! He saw Marsh protesting the hotel construction and knew he had his guy. I guess Daniel Martin could move and change his name; he just couldn’t get himself out of the opposition business.

Fred, how long have you been after Martin?

Oh yeah, why exactly?

Huh. That timeline seems a little off. Maybe he misspoke the first time.

Nope, Jessica heard “seventeen” too. Let’s just chalk it up to fuzzy math and call it a day.

Well now everyone thinks David Marsh killed Wheatley, but Jessica knows otherwise. Time for some more investigating—back to Kowalski!

First she lures him in with a salve for his cut hand.

Seems to be working—salve’ll get you every time.

HOLD UP! Jessica, did you just throw his old, dirty bandage on the ground? That’s disgusting. For real. What the hell? There was no way you could get it to the garbage? What would David Marsh say if he saw how you were treating Mother Nature?

This little interaction better be worth it, because a little part of me is dying right now.

Oh, looks like it is! Kowalski is starting to sing like a bird. According to him, Wheatley’s construction projects are death traps.

Bobby Scotto, eh? He didn’t happen to have a sister, did he?

Del Scott! Reporting on news, making news.

Now that Wheatley’s murder is wrapped-up, let’s try to get David Marsh off the hook with the FBI, shall we?

Seth uses a bone to convince Fred that the skeleton in the ditch was Daniel Martin—both Daniel and the skeleton had a broken leg.

That seems far-fetched.

Even Fred knows they’re lying, but he’s as charmed by Hazlitt and Fletcher as the rest of us.

So he lets David Marsh off? And they all have a chuckle about it? So weird.

The sheriff’s office gets a little airtime in this episode and I always appreciate the décor there.

Ok, I’ll be the one to say it. Why are we getting distracted by a bunch of old bones if there are multiple children missing in Cabot Cove? Maybe the Art Department should think a little harder about posters before they put them up.

Setting: An island in the Caribbean, I think—its history is definitely tied to France since the hotel featured has King Louis and Napoleon suites
Family Members: None

The next momentous occasion in Murder, She Wrote history has arrived: SEASON TWO! We’re all pretty excited to see what Jessica’s up to next, I know. Spoiler alert: she’s even more self-assured in her crime-solving abilities now. I suppose after 20+ murders, it makes sense that she would have a certain amount of confidence. The best part of it, in my opinion, is how we all benefit visually…

I’ll show you what I mean.

This episode brings us to an island in the Caribbean. I have no idea which one in particular. If anyone knows of a hotel on an island with King Louis (pronounced Lou-ee) and Napoleon suites, definitely pass that information my way. Though, chances are, the hotel itself is made up. Sometimes the greatest mysteries are those created by the show itself.

Regardless, the show opens with a letter. Some seemingly rich broad is writing it.

Who is this letter addressed to? Well none other than…

As fate would have it, mere minutes after this sequined beauty gets her letter in the mail, she befalls a sad fate.*

*She gets murdered.

Cue J.B.

Yes, Jessica is looking fancy as fuck and I’m loving it!

What is this? An alias?! Oh, this is going to be fantastic.

Don’t worry, though—beneath the Marguerite façade, she’s still the same old New Englander we’ve grown to love.

The letter-writer is revealed to be Jessica’s old friend Antoinette Farnsworth.

Don’t get too comfortable Jess! Make sure you lock the door! Too late.

The local authorities caught wind of her eminent arrival, despite the fact that they warned her not to come look into her friend’s murder. This is Chief Inspector Claude Rensselaer, as likeable as he is dapper.

Claude reminds Jessica that, since Antoinette reached out to her, she could be in danger too.

Iron-clad alias, Claude. Duh-doi!

Now let’s hear more about this Antoinette character. Apparently she and Jessica were like sisters until Antoinette’s husband died a few years back. This gives the impression that Antoinette was living in Cabot Cove, but that becomes more and more unlikely as her character is filled-out over the course of the episode. Again, MSW: bringing the real mysteries.

But anyway, Antoinette’s husband died…

If only I could capture the drama of Jessica shaking her head in sorrow whilst she said “drink.” But GIFs aren’t my bag, baby.

Wait, what did I just say?

Ignore it.

So, to get her investigation going, Jess starts mixing it up with the other hotel guests.

Real delightful folk, like this sass-master: Alva Crane.

Everything about those pictures, including Jessica’s facial expressions, is perfect. Just try to fight me on that.

Even the background actors help give the impression that this hotel is the real swanky type.

Nice crown, babe. How’s that guy’s booty doing it for you? Seems like it’s doing it just right, eh?

There’s also an Irish gentleman, Michael Hagarty, trying to take up Jessic…I mean Marguerite’s time.

With clé-vage like that, can you blame him?

There’s also a nice young American schoolteacher, Veronica Harrold. She won a trip for one to the hotel and doesn’t even remember entering the contest! Seems suspect, but she’s having a great time!

You’ve got to be kidding me.

Veronica is also dating a hottie named Sven. It’s his bum the be-crowned lady was winking at! Full disclosure: everyone seems to think Sven’s all that, but he really leaves something to be desired for me. I don’t get it.

Hotel Security, predictably, is a hoot. The main guy in charge is Sheldon Greenberg and he’s on to Marguerite.

Oh, he’s good!

And old Sheldon isn’t the only one seeing through the ultimate alias.

Even the iciest of stares can’t get him off her back. It turns out that before Marguerite Canfield became a recluse, she had dinner with Michael Hagarty. What are the odds!

Unfortunately, Jessica has been spending too much time mixing it up and lying about her name—another victim emerges! Our spirit animal, Alva Crane, is murdered.

Time to come clean with everyone in order to get this thing solved. Pronto.

First stop: the hotel manager, Eric Brahm.

I’m not sure we believe you, Jess, but solid effort.

The hotel manager is a suspect because he’s always extra attentive to the rich widows.

He’s soon cleared because he’s secretly married to an aging actress turned hotel tennis pro.

Plot twist!

At least Jessica has Michael Hagarty on her side now. He decides to come clean too: he works for Antoinette’s father, an elderly French vintner. When Antoinette was young, she married a struggling poet. Her father forced her to get an annulment, but she was already pregnant! The child was given up for adoption. Wanting to make amends in his silver years, Antoinette’s father arranged for her and the daughter she gave up to be at the hotel together. That’s right: Veronica Harrold is French vintner royalty and has no idea! Like I said before, I’m not sure how we’re supposed to buy Cabot Cove fitting into that long-winded narrative, but them’s the facts.

Jessica looks back at all her old letters from Antoinette and concludes that Antoinette and Sven had an affair at some ski resort. Antoinette (drunkenly) spilled the secret about her daughter to him and when he bumped into the women in the Caribbean he put two and two together. Maybe Sven wants to get in on Veronica’s inheritance? 

Well that didn’t take much convincing. Now, to get to Veronica before she does something foolish!

Ooft.

Sven alibis out, the slimy bastard! In the end, the motive for the murders was robbery, pure and simple.

Who has access to the safe deposit boxes? Safe deposit boxes full of old woman jewels?

We’re looking at you, Sheldon.

Yeah, that’s the point.

Cry me a river, Shelly.

Time for a good, old fashioned wrap-up!

Veronica’s going to go meet grand-pa-pa.

A wine joke about a vintner, Jess? You’re better than that.

Hags doesn’t care, though!

Someone sound the heartbreaker alarm!

Setting: Fifty-Mile
Family Members: None

Here it is—the final episode of Season 1. It might feel a little anti-climactic after the sound clip that shook the nation, but this is big happenings! I’m not going to lie, this episode of Murder, She Wrote gets pretty real (too real?). Fortunately, there’s enough Jessica Fletcher and cultural misunderstanding to make it a classic moment in MSW history.

Where is Jessica for this momentous time? She’s in God’s country: Wyoming. Even under the purpled lens of the 1980s, it’s beautiful.

Wait, is Wyoming God’s country? I know Montana is Big Sky Country, but where’s God at? To be honest, I’m not sure (s)he’d choose to hang in a town named after its size, but maybe the rest of the state is more creative.

I don’t really know much about Wyoming.

Regardless, J.B. is in town for a funeral—that’s right, just as the title so subtly suggests, there’s a funeral at Fifty-Mile.

Jack Carver died, leaving his daughter Mary as his only survivor. Well, Mary and all his old man pals. They’re a pretty tight-knit group and really pulled out all the stops for Jack’s funeral.

It’s unclear how Jessica knew Jack—he might have been in the military with her husband—but, back at the Carver Ranch, she’s really taking advantage of the local fare.

The local authority shows up to pay his respects.

Gee, I hope no one gets murdered in this town!

It turns out Jack didn’t have a will when he died. One of those pals happens to be his lawyer, Sam Breen. Sam isn’t concerned about a lack of will.

Oh! What a delight! Sam Breen is played by William Windom, the future series regular Dr. Seth Hazlitt! Now that’s something to look forward to in upcoming episodes of MSW.

Now seems like the perfect time for a no-good-doer to show up. Enter Carl Mestin!

Carl claims to have inherited all the property.

Though, something in Carl’s smug tone of voice and slow pocket tap sets off alarms for Jessica, so she decides to start sniffing him out early.

The fact that something bad is about to happen is only accentuated by a slow fade from Jessica’s all-knowing face into a thunderstorm.

Fortunately, Carl brought his wife, Sally, to provide some much-needed levity.

But back to that storm! The men-folk have to batten down the hatches and check on the animals. Among them is Mary’s fiancé, Art. I know you haven’t seen Mary yet and I can’t really remember if you ever will in this post. She’s not much to look at and is a bit annoying. Let me put it this way, Mary wears gauchos exclusively.

So Art’s truck gets stuck in some mud. Luckily, a farm hand comes to his rescue.

Hay-Soos?!

Not only does the Great Caption Machine make Jesus go by Hay-Soos, but now he’s gotta find a body.

And when he goes to get help?

Goddamnit, people. Well they find out soon enough that old Jesus isn’t freaking out over nothing.

Carl Mestin is swinging from the rafters.

Let’s call that super competent sheriff. Jessica, will you please do what you do best?

Thank you.

Somehow Sheriff Ed Potts (fact) decides Art murdered Mestin. So when Art is getting his truck out of the mud, finally…

We can’t even get a freaking tilde? Fine.

Potts has some choice words for Art that he would do well applying to himself.

Oh, there’s Mary. Her profile in the dark, at least.

Well, Jessica knows that Art couldn’t have committed murder, so she goes off to investigate, talking exclusively to Doc Wallace’s assistant. Doc is another one of Jack Carver’s buddies.

Is that your medical opinion? Real nice, babe.

As you can see, Jessica is really getting some useful information. So useful, the murderer decides to send her a warning.

Jessica don’t scare that easy, ya heard?

Meanwhile, the Widow Mestin has been making herself at home on the Ranch. For example, getting to know the maid.

Seems about right.

Don’t worry, Emma, the maid, has the last laugh.

Ah! Mary and her famous gauchos! Oh, also the Mestin’s were never married, formally, so Sally doesn’t get the Ranch!

Seems about time for Jessica to solve this thing.

She calls all the old dudes into the barn.

Why don’t you tell us why, Doc? Apparently Carl Mestin raped Mary’s mom. And Mary is

Carl blackmailed Jack Carver into giving him the Ranch in exchange for not telling Mary.

Dang.

Uh, boys. God and I aren’t super close—obviously, I don’t even know where (s)he lives—but I’ma go out on a limb and guess that this isn’t what God wanted. Some serious jail time? Sure! Not this.

They agree to turn themselves in and Jessica? Well, she’ll keep their secret. Mary doesn’t need to know.

Hurt enough by Jessica flaunting her amazing ranch fashion!

Eh?

Let’s take this thing out on the right note.

Setting: Desert Palms, CA
Family Members: None

Jessica is on the move again, landing in sunny Desert Palms, CA. This episode of Murder, She Wrote actually marks a big milestone for MSWSW. It is the first time I will attempt to put an audio clip in a post! Big time, I know.

Just as with the screen captures, I suspect it will be incredibly difficult to decide when to utilize sound. Honestly, every episode of MSW is so expertly put together, I would love to just post the whole thing and say, “See, look! This is wonderful. It is hilarious, but should also be taken very seriously.” Of course, that job, albeit poorly at times, is already being done by sites such as Netflix. And, sure, there’s the small point to be made that posting the whole episode would make me kind of obsolete. So I won’t do it.

Regardless, this is an incredibly long-winded way of saying:it’s difficult to pare an episode of MSW down to the posts you see before you on a semi-weekly basis. Just know that it’s done with care. Also, don’t expect sound clips all the time. This is a special occasion, I imagine. I might change my mind on the next post. I’ll probably change my mind on the next post.

And now, back to your regularly scheduled murder.

Meet Johnny Shannon—he’s a cool cat with a sharp tongue.

A singer by trade, he’s been having his son, Mickey, do his arrangements.

That’s Mickey in the shorties. His dad, ever obsessed with the “bounce” in a song, is always pretty hard on him.

Hey, Mickey, why don’t you show the old coot how it’s done?

Closed captions don’t lie, Johnny. How about your comedic sidekick, Buster Bailey? What does he think?

Considering his name is entirely cribbed from a famous jazz musician’s, he must know what he’stalking about, right? Unless the writers just thought the name had a nice ring to it (which it does) and had no idea why it sounded so familiar. I was able to Wiki the name, no problem, but that kind of technology wasn’t around back then. We may never know the answer to this, one of life’s great questions. However, the character never deals with music again, so it’s really anyone’s guess.

Anyway, Johnny Shannon doesn’t take kindly to being put in his place, bounce-wise, so he tells Buster to get the car ready.

Yes, sir!

Like all great entertainers, he’s really got his finger on the pulse of the Desert Palms tennis scene.

Oh, but look who he’s meeting for lunch! Here we have his daughter, Terry (she’s got a rebellious streak!), his ex-wife, Peggy (who has a penchant for accessories), and Peggy’s old college roommate…Jessica Fletcher!

Later that night, Buster knows something is amiss when he goes to give Johnny a nightcap and Johnny won’t open the door.

Johnny’s bodyguard is finally able to force his way in, and boy is there a sight to behold.

BUT WHO WOULD WANT TO KILL JOHNNY?!

Thank goodness Jessica is in town. She accompanies Peggy to Johnny’s house the day following the murder. Both Mickey and Terry live with dear old dad, so they had a front row seat to tragedy.

Uh, what was that Mickey?

Just glance into her eyes and you know Jessica means business.

Let’s not try to seem too over-eager or anything, though.

It seems her reputation has preceded her, however, and Mickey encourages her to help solve the crime.

Peggy, what do you think?

Oh, right. ACTUAL law enforcement. They should probably have a say in all this. Well, Det. Sgt. Barnes, what do you think?

I don’t know, I could think of some reasons you might have.

Oh no, you’re right. That’s really solid logic.

Oh, now them’s fighting words! He actually dares to suggest that Jessica is shaky on police procedure, so she has no choice but to join in his reindeer games.

After surveying the scene of the crime and the state of the art security system, Jessica and the Serge come to the same conclusion.

Wait, do you mean…

Deep, Mick. Real deep. And, apparently true.

Now let the list of dead-end suspects begin! First up: the Mick man himself. That hulking bodyguard of Johnny’s thinks Mickey must be guilty.

Fortunately, Buster comes to the rescue.

A character witness if ever I saw one.

Then Terry admits that she had a man in her room. A man with a hot temper whom her father was none too fond of. She turned the security system off to let him in and out. She also gave him money to leave town since he might be a suspect.

Peggy’s reaction to this development really expresses the desperation everyone is feeling.

And now, ladies and gentlemen, you’ve experienced the somewhat-hyped audio clip. After I heard Peggy’s line I made my husband take 20-30 minutes out of his day in order to find a way to capture the sound in a way I could put on Tumblr. It has since replaced Will Ferrell doing Harry Caray as my favorite celebrity impression to do. And that one was in place for over a decade. They sound a bit similar, which is probably why I was so drawn to it in the first place. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

So, this Terry/tennis player route ends up being another dud. Who else is left? The ex?

It turns out, Peggy was also in the house that night. She went to talk to Johnny about Terry.

Ga-ross, Peg. Keep that kind of talk to yourself next time!

Finally, a real motive begins to take shape. Johnny was blackmailing a guy named Milo Valentine.

You got it, Jess! Now we’re cooking with gas! So who’s on Valentine’s payroll?

Jessica thinks she’s got it figured out, so she asks Sergeant Barnes to join her at the Shannon abode. A classic Jessica Fletcher invitation.

Let’s get on with it, Jessica. Who did it?

Now, since I’ve seen this episode a few times and because the writing in it is particularly lazy (see: Buster Bailey naming), I was able to remember what happened and took screen captures of the truth unfolding, way back when Jessica and Barnes first looked at the room in which Johnny was killed.

Won’t you join me…back in time?

So Barnes and Jessica agree, they’ve never been in that room.

How about some clues? Jessica zeroes in on a missing picture.

Nah, Barnes knows it couldn’t be related.

Later, Terry says she took that picture out of the room before the police ever arrived!

The law ENFORCEMENT is actually the law BREAKER! He’s connected to the mob and got into the house when dumb Terry was sneaking around her tennis hottie.

Since Jessica loves a solo reveal, Barnes still thinks he’s got a chance.

Oh, you’re good Barnes. But not good enough to realize Jessica came with backup. Ultimately, he surrenders his gun.

Goddamnit, Jessica. Now you’ve gone and put your fingerprints all over the murder weapon. I don’t want to say you bungled the whole thing, but this is totally a Tupper move, not a Fletcher one. Looks like you could use some work on police procedure after all.*

*The funny thing is, she actually uses this as a moment to show Barnes that she knows all about police procedure. Maybe not funny-ha-ha, but I got a little kick out of it.

It’s another sad day for Murder, She Wrote. Let us please have a moment of silence for “Armed Response.” It, too, is missing from Netflix. We’re going to get a search party together and do our best to make sure “Armed Response” makes it back to it’s home here on MSWSW. In the meantime, we’ll keep a light on in the window…a short blog post as a placeholder…

Setting: Cabot Cove, a bus driving through Maine
Family Members: None

Finally, Amos Tupper is back in our lives! I don’t know about you, but I happen to think he’s adorable. Wonky accent and poor detective skills aside, he kind of looks like a koala bear. Just me?

Anyway, the Maine Sheriff’s Association is having a convention in Portland and Jessica is the speaker. So, they’re taking this show on the road! Even more exciting…

Unfortunately, there’s an issue with Amos’s car.

Looks like they’ve gotta take the bus. Fortunately, this being Maine and all, the bus is full of a friendly, eclectic group of people. Like this old man, who has such a positive outlook on life.

One of my favorite* Golden Girls, Rue McClanahan, is on the bus too! Her memoir is life changing.

* Full disclosure: they’re all my favorite.

Rue plays Miriam Radford, a librarian who fan-girls Jessica immediately.

Things are bound to get more interesting when the bus has a pick-up at a prison.

Just their luck, a pretty serious thunderstorm rolls in and the bus breaks down. They’re forced to seek refuge at Kozy Korner Kitchen, where shark may or may not be on the menu.

When Jessica realizes they’re going to be stuck for awhile, she goes back on the bus to retrieve a book, only to find…

Stuck in the neck with a screwdriver? Dang!

Though he has no jurisdiction at Kozy Korner, Amos (read: Jessica) steps up and begins investigating what might have happened on the bus. First step: pull the murder weapon out of your pocket.

Really excellent place to store that, Amos. Glad you bothered with the handkerchief. We wouldn’t want to contaminate anything.

They discover the dead man’s name was Gilbert Stoner (A+). He was their prison pick-up—just released.

Of course you did.

Gilbert robbed a bank with two other dudes—one died, one got away. A teenager was also killed in the crossfire. Now which one of these bus passengers had the motive to take out such a swell guy?

Maybe Linda Blair, of The Exorcist fame, has an idea?

She’s pregnant, traveling with her husband.

In between feeding her pickle/mayo cravings and being told by Miriam that kids are super expensive, she confesses that her husband is the son of the bank robber who died. He’s no killer though.

What about Miriam and her husband Kent?

A math man who loves video games? Hubba hubba!

It is finally discovered that the teenager who died had the last name Gibbons. That’s the same last name as the bus driver!!!

Now we’re getting somewhere! Wait, what’s that, Jess?

Since the screwdriver didn’t have much blood on it, she concludes that Gilbert Stoner was already dead when Gibbons stabbed him.

Hey, dude. I know we just said that’s probably not the murder weapon, but still maybe don’t put your mitts all over it. Plus, gross.

Next up, the lights go out! Someone is shot!

The guy on the ground was hired by the robbed bank to follow Stoner and find out where he hid all that loot.

They get the lights back on and now discover that a book belonging to Stoner is missing. What kind of crazies are there on this bus?!

Jessica knows just where that book is.

In Miriam’s knitting bag!

Why’d you do it, Miriam?

Oh yeah, how much is it worth?

Da-da-damn! That’s a lotta dough!

Now back to who shot that other guy. It must have been the dude who manhandled the screwdriver! He’s pretending to be a ship captain, but really he’s the third robber.

Pretty solid motive, I’d say…

Ah yes, the Smashing Pumpkins defense. Once the police investigated, he’d be the first person fingered with the crime. Therefore, it’s proven that he was just out to find where Stoner put the stolen money—he didn’t kill him.

Which brings us back to…

Gibbons! He strangled Stoner, and then stabbed him. If he confessed to the second crime, who would think he did the first one? Impressive logic.

Now that we’re all done with this murder business, let’s get back to more important things…like television sets.

Another opportunity missed!

Setting: New York City
Family Members: None

As you might have gathered from the episode’s title, this is a very bookish episode of Murder, She Wrote! Jessica is attending a conference/awards ceremony of some sort in New York City so we get a glimpse at the literary elite in her world.

First off, there’s her close friend Horace Lynchfield.

He’s a full-time poet, part-time heartbreaker.

You can do better than that, Horace.

Dirty.

That woman he’s talking to is Lucinda Lark. She writes borderline erotica with a possibly feminist edge. Very niche.

We also have Robert Reed (aka Mike Brady) gust starring as Adrian Winslow!

Yes, he’s a serious and stuffy novelist. It’s also implied in a not so subtle, very clichéd way that he’s closeted.

For instance, his latest…

…is summed up as a book about

He’s always on the defensive.

Considering Reed’s own life struggles, watching his scenes is somewhat uncomfortable and sad. Weird choice MSW writers/casting/etc. Weird choice.

On a lighter* note, the rack behind him at his book signing implies a naughty sponsor.

*or perhaps more layered and complicated

Lastly, we have the washed-up novelist, Hemsley Post. He does things like pronounce “Kenya” as “Keen-ya.”

Oh, and he’s super humble.

Things might be turning around for old Hems, though. He tells some hot young thing working the conference that he’s got a new book coming out.

Me too, babe. Me too.

But what’s this?!?! Is it possible that Hemsley stole the book manuscript from some scruffy war vet living in Brooklyn? A public restroom confrontation points to yes.

That man is Frank Lapinski. Frank Lapinski drinks milk straight from the carton and I can’t tell you how much I regret not getting a screen shot of that, but there’s only so much living in the past we can do when we’re dealing with a show from 1985.

Surprise, surprise, Hemsley ends up dead.

He was stabbed with a sword that was concealed in an umbrella shaft.

Ever the one with impeccable timing, Jessica arrives at his hotel room just as the police and District Attorney are gathering evidence. She joins in and now everyone is just walking around like there isn’t a dead body on the floor.

The DA is a bit of a fame whore, definitely in need of some sensitivity training.

On the upside, one of the police officers, Lt. Meyer, is played by Ron Masak who will later join the cast as Sheriff Mort Metzger when *spoiler alert* Amos Tupper skips town.

It turns out the “pig sticker” belongs to Horace!

His alibi is a little tough to pin down. Like all great poets, he’s got a bit of a drinking problem.

Jessica looks like she’s about to slap Horace upside the head, but she manages a couple deep breaths. She knows he couldn’t have done it so she makes it her job to figure out who did, doi.

First stop is Hemsley’s estranged wife. She’s a fashion designer.

These writers really know how to create the whole world of the show, am I right?

Mrs. Post isn’t particularly helpful, but what she lacks in solid leads she makes up for in deep thoughts.

Next, Jessica goes to visit Frank Lapinski all the way out in Brooklyn.

Frank’s no murderer. He’s also not impressed with Jessica and her silly genre fiction.

You have no excuses to make, Jess. He’s just a hater.

In a strange twist, it turns out that Frank’s sister, also an aspiring writer, killed Hemsley. Jessica uses some very large eyeglasses and a short story critique to confront Debbie over lunch.

That’s a young Talia Balsam! One-time wife of George Clooney, current wife of everyone’s favorite whitehead, John Slattery—and of course an actress and human being in her own right.

Wait, what do you call it when someone has white hair?

…

Debbie admits the murder, but

Hemsley was trying to force himself on her and she was just defending herself.

Good enough for Jessica!

Some final parting words for all you writers out there.

Thanks, bitch.