In just three seconds, this woman is going to be...
Stabbed?
Who killed her?
Was it the bereaved husband?
That's a lie.
The temperamental artist?
You have sold a forgery!
The confused psychiatrist?
Unfortunately, her death terminated the treatment.
The enterprising auctioneer?
$5,000 for a Vargo is unworthy.
The kissing cousin?
He was a brute. He abused her constantly.
Or was it someone else?
Match wits with Ellery Queen
and see if you can guess who done it.
Mrs. McGraw?
Oh, Edna, you startled me.
Sorry, Ma'am. I'm home early.
Can I get you anything?
No, no, nothing, please. I don't want to be disturbed.
Certainly, Ma'am.
Oh, it's you.
Come over here. I want you to see something.
Ah!
No.
No, no.
It's supposed to be a high-powered rifle,
and I don't hear the ricochet.
The ricochet. Yes, Mr. Brimmer.
How can I hold an audience if the sound effects aren't convincing?
Give me the horses again.
It sounds like two coconut shells.
But, Mr. Brimmer, it is two coconut shells.
Complaints.
I'm getting complaints from my listeners
about the sound effects.
Mr. Brimmer, that... that letter was written by a 9-year-old girl.
I don't care how old she is. She is one of my listeners.
Now give me the gun falling.
[Loud clatter of falling equipment]
We are not doing Fibber McGee's closet.
I'm sorry, Simon. I knocked over your stand.
Ah, Queen, you received my telephone message.
Yes, Simon, you said it was important.
It is.
I'm working on the script for next week's show.
I want to consult you on a technical point,
a case you worked on.
Well, I'll be glad to help if I can.
[Phone rings]
Yes?
Yes. For you, Mr. Queen.
Excuse me.
Thank you.
Hello?
Oh, hi, Dad.
Stabbed?
Who?
Yeah.
All right, I'll be right over.
Did I hear you say "stabbed"?
Yeah, I'm sorry, Simon. I have to leave.
Just a moment, Queen... that's my script you've got there.
Lillian McGraw?
What an incredible coincidence.
I saw her just this afternoon at Prescott's.
The auction gallery? Did she buy anything?
She did, indeed.
Come along, Queen.
I'll give you a lift and fill you in on the way.
All right.
I thought at the time there was something strange
about what happened this afternoon.
Well, just what did happen?
Mr. And Mrs. McGraw and her cousin, Celeste Wakefield,
were bidding on an exquisite Vermeer.
I was seated just behind them.
$200,000.
Thank you, sir.
$220,000?
Thank you, sir. $250,000?
Thank you, Madam.
$300,000?
Do I hear $300,000?
Thank you, sir. I have $300,000.
Would someone like to make it $350,000?
$350,000?
I have $300,000.
$300,000 once, $300,000 twice.
Sold to Mr. McGraw at $300,000.
Well, we got it, honey.
A good price, too.
Congratulations. You've acquired a rare masterpiece.
- Thank you, Mister... - Brimmer, Simon Brimmer.
Now, ladies and gentlemen, item number 7 on our program...
Simon Brimmer.
"Woman in Blue" by Sergio Vargo, signed in the lower right-hand corner,
from a private collection in Florence.
Thank you, Mr. Lucheck.
Well, our broker told us to stick to the Dutch.
- Let's go, honey. - Sit down, Clint.
This is an exquisite example of Vargo's earliest work.
May I suggest that we start the bidding at...
$5,000?
Thank you, Mr. Brimmer.
Do I hear any advance on $5,000?
Do I hear $10,000? $10,000?
Really. $5,000 for a Vargo is unworthy.
Will someone not make it $10,000? Do I hear $10,000?
Thank you, Madam.
I have $10,000.
You don't want that Vargo.
That guy's still alive.
Sit down, Clint. We'll leave when I'm ready.
Do I hear $15,000?
I have $15,000. $20,000?
Thank you, sir.
$25,000?
Thank you, Madam.
$30,000?
Lillian, darling, I don't...
I have $30,000.
$35,000?
Do I hear $35,000?
$35,000?
Ah, Monsieur Vargo, this is a great honor.
We did not expect you...
Do I hear $35,000?
$32,000?
$31,000?
Thank you, sir.
Dear, we've already spent $300,000 on the Dutch.
$31,000... any advance on $31,000? I mean, don't you think that's enough?
It's too much for a Vargo.
I don't care. It's my money.
I have $31,000 once, $31,000 twice...
$50,000.
I've been offered $50,000.
Thank you, Madam.
Any advance on $50,000?
$50,000?
$50,000 once, $50,000 twice.
Sold to Mrs. McGraw at $50,000.
Isn't that an awful lot to pay for a modern painting?
More than double what it's worth.
But that's not all.
After the auction, another interesting incident occurred.
Prescott, I must have a word with you.
Monsieur Vargo, an honor.
I insist that The "Woman in Blue" be returned by that woman.
That's quite impossible.
I have her check.
Return it.
You don't seem to understand. The matter is out of my hands.
Besides, although you are the artist, you are not the seller.
You fool.
Don't you realize you have not sold a Vargo?
You have sold a forgery!
You mean Vargo himself claims the painting's a forgery?
Interesting, isn't it, Queen?
Driver, that's it on the right.
I'll take care of it, Inspector.
All right, that'll be about it.
Oh, there you are, Ellery.
Brimmer, what are you doing here?
An interested citizen coming forth with information, Inspector.
I was at the auction this afternoon.
Yeah, we know all about that.
The victim bought two expensive paintings.
It looks like she was killed when she surprised a thief.
Dad, Simon told me that Mr. McGraw paid $350,000 this afternoon
for these two paintings.
What? Unbelievable.
Exquisite.
Apparently you have no appreciation of the rich patina of age, Inspector.
Well, I don't like it. It's too dark.
Dad, take a look at this painting. You notice anything unusual?
Yeah, eyes don't match, nose is off-center.
I mean the signature.
The Vargo signature has been scraped off.
What's this under it? "Lazar."
Vargo may have been right.
Perhaps someone else painted this picture.
Inspector, may I borrow your magnifying glass?
The city stopped issuing magnifying glasses
when gas lighting went out.
Did anybody see the killer?
Not really. The maid must have scared him off.
The maid?
Like I said, my sister had the flu, so I came home early.
Is this your regular night off?
Yes, sir.
Mrs. McGraw was here in the study, sitting right over there.
And no one else was home?
No, sir.
Miss Wakefield went to a movie, and Mr. McGraw...
he went out earlier.
The McGraws are from Houston,
staying with Miss Wakefield, a cousin.
We're looking for them now. Go on, Edna.
Well, I asked Mrs. McGraw if there was anything I could get her.
"No, nothing," she said, kind of upset... I could tell.
So, I went to the closet to hang up my coat,
and that's when I heard the door slam.
You heard the door slam? Which door?
That door, sir.
I wondered what had caused it.
Did you go and see?
No, sir.
I'd finished hanging up my coat, and then I started for the kitchen.
And that's when I heard the scream.
I hurried to the door, and it was locked.
That happens when the catch is pushed in.
I called her name, and she didn't answer.
So, I unlocked the door and...
[Sobbing]
Yes, yes.
Now, when you came into the room, did you see anyone?
Excluding Mrs. McGraw, of course.
I saw the French window closing. I was too scared to go and look out.
That delay allowed the killer to go out through the French windows.
Probably panicked, left the paintings.
Was the French window locked?
Usually, only I can't say about tonight.
How about it, Velie?
No sign of forced entry. Ground-floor apartment.
Anybody could have come in that way.
What about the murder weapon?
Letter opener right through the heart. Probably on that desk over there.
No fingerprints.
Uh-huh.
Anything else?
Only this, Maestro... nail file. It was found in the victim's hand.
It was covered with some blue stuff.
Paint flakes.
You say it was found in the victim's hand?
- Right. - Yeah?
Pardon, Monsieur.
May I examine the Vargo painting?
Who are you?
Inspector Claude Gravette, Department of State Treasures,
a branch of the French S ûreté.
My credentials.
Thank you, Edna.
Yes, sir.
I'm Inspector Richard Queen, New York City Police Department.
This is my son, Ellery.
Now, what's a French detective doing on a New York murder investigation?
Ah!
Since the return of the Goering treasures after the war,
my government has become alarmed
about the number of irregularities which have come to light.
Do you mean forgeries?
Let me put it this way, gentlemen.
Paul Gauguin produced about 90 works during his lifetime.
At last count, 300 of them have been discovered in your country.
Excuse me. My name is Brimmer.
I noticed you at the Prescott Gallery this afternoon.
Apparently, you also overheard Vargo's accusation.
Precisely.
While I was on my way here to examine the painting,
I learned about the tragedy.
So, the thief came in here to steal a valuable painting,
nearly gets caught, kills Mrs. McGraw,
and the painting's really a forgery?
Maybe the killer knew the painting was a forgery.
Evidently, everyone except me has overlooked the significance
of the changed signature.
Now, what's that, Brimmer?
In her dying throes, the victim has scraped off
the signature "Vargo" to reveal the signature "Lazar."
It's obvious, Inspector...
Mrs. McGraw was trying to reveal the identity of her killer.
A dying clue, eh?
I don't think so, Dad.
Mrs. McGraw scraped the signature off before she was stabbed.
How do you figure that?
Well the paint scrapings were found on the sofa cushions,
not on the floor next to the body.
There wasn't time for her to scrape the signature off.
She was stabbed through the heart with a letter opener.
Now, careful, careful.
Wait a minute. Wait a minute.
That cost $50,000.
But another thing, Dad,
I think there's another painting underneath this Vargo.
Have a look.
You mean done by Lazar?
That's my guess.
Inspector, that guy Vargo you sent for is here.
Yeah? Well, send him in.
I must protest, Inspector.
Why am I being treated like a criminal?
Take it easy.
We're only asking some questions about this painting.
Oh, yes, yes. Magnificent, no?
The strength and force of my youth.
What a pity it has been desecrated.
You mean this is a genuine Vargo?
Of course.
Can anyone doubt it?
Such design, such power.
But didn't you claim yesterday at the Prescott Galleries
that this was a forgery?
I...
Did I?
Well, obviously I was mistaken.
I didn't get a close look at it yesterday.
It was 25 years ago that I painted this masterpiece.
Then maybe you can explain why it was painted over another painting.
Ah, it was very common in those days.
After all, a new canvas and stretcher cost so much more expensive
than some cheap old painting.
Ah. And you can't remember how you got it?
When I'm inspired, the medium is no matter.
I once did a painting on the cover of an old suitcase.
No, no, no.
One evening, I was moved, inspired,
and I created the "Woman in Blue," a masterpiece.
What I paint on is of no consequence.
And the name Lazar means nothing to you?
What?
I said the name Lazar means nothing to you?
- No. - Are you sure?
- Yes. - You're not leveling with us, Vargo.
First you say it's a forgery, and then you say it's not.
I think Mrs. McGraw knew
there was a painting underneath the "Woman in Blue."
Can you shed any light on that, Mr. Vargo?
Me? What makes you think I...?
The truth, Vargo!
Oh, very well.
If you must know, I told her.
You told her what, when, where?
Last week.
Last week at one of those terrible artistic cocktail parties.
I met her there.
I didn't even know her name, but there was something
vaguely familiar about her.
Her face...
I'd seen that face a long time ago, and then it dawned on me.
It was on that ridiculous canvas that I painted over
when I created the "Woman in Blue" -
the one done by that hopelessly realistic fellow.
What did you say his name was?
Lazar.
Yes.
She seemed upset.
She questioned me extensively about the Lazar painting.
And that's all?
That was the extent of my contact with Mrs. McGraw.
Sounds fishy to me.
We'll have those two paintings checked by an expert.
You can go, but don't leave town.
[Laughs]
I have no intention of leaving New York, Inspector.
I, too, am interested in the opinions of an expert.
What was the name of that expert, the one we used last year?
Ellery?
Huh?
Dad, something that maid said last night is bothering me.
Let's go back there and have another look.
Wait in here, please.
Thank you.
Well?
Now, it's the door slamming that bothers me.
Dad, you sit down over here.
Can't you just tell me what's on your mind?
Yeah.
You're Mrs. McGraw.
Okay, I'm Mrs. McGraw.
Now, Edna heard that door slamming when she hung up her coat.
That's when the killer came through the French windows.
Get to the point.
All right, the point is it's late and it's dark,
and you're alone in the house, except for the maid,
and suddenly I come through those French doors.
Wouldn't you be frightened? Wouldn't you scream?
She did scream.
Yeah, but how soon?
See, there was a definite gap between the slam and the scream.
She didn't scream on the slam because it was someone she knew
who came through those French doors.
Oh, she screamed,
but only after she realized that whoever came through those doors
was going to kill her.
Well, Inspector, Ellery...
Did you find out who killed Lillian yet?
These things take time, Mr. McGraw.
Mm-hmm.
Well, down where I come from, we know what to do with killers.
We find them.
We don't let them just walk around.
Well, speaking of that,
you were saying that last night you took a walk?
Yeah, that's right... Stork Club.
I went over there and had a few drinks.
Lillian had one of her headaches.
Headaches?
Did she have headaches often?
Well, the last few weeks.
She was seeing a Dr. Friedland.
Yes, her doctor in Houston recommended him,
but it didn't seem to do much good.
What time did you leave the Stork Club?
Oh, I guess about midni... Oh, no.
It was one of them cat burglars that killed Lillian.
Don't get upset, Mr. McGraw. Just trying to check all the angles.
Mm-hmm.
Mr. McGraw, I understand the money was in your wife's name?
That's right.
She make a will?
Sure, sure, she had a will.
Celeste was to get 1/3, and I was to get the rest.
Anything wrong with that?
Did you and your wife ever have any trouble?
I was very much in love with Lillian, Inspector.
I mean, we were childhood sweethearts.
Oh, she wasn't all that easy to live with.
I mean, she was a little spoiled.
You see, her folks were rich... you know, oil, cattle.
My folks were dirt poor.
They found out we were gonna be married,
and they shipped her off to one of those...
fancy finishing schools in Switzerland.
Hoping she'd forget about you, huh?
Yeah. It almost worked, too, but Celeste... God bless her soul...
she went over and straightened Lillian out.
And when they got back... we were married.
That was the summer of 1922.
Mr. McGraw, when did you start collecting paintings?
Oh, that was Lillian's idea.
I mean, you know, she liked to show off for her friends.
I figured it was, you know, a good investment.
I'm afraid your last investment is a little shaky.
What?
We'll have them checked by an expert,
but there's a question of forgery.
Forgery?
$50,000 fake?
I'm gonna tell you something...
at Prescott Gallery, they're a bunch of swindlers.
That has yet to be proved.
Oh, my investigations also cast considerable doubt
on the Prescott Gallery, Mr. Brimmer.
Professor Saltzman.
Gentlemen, I have made an exhaustive analysis
of the pigments and the brush strokes,
even the fibers in the canvas.
I'm sorry, Mr. McGraw.
You have purchased a clever forgery.
Well, Inspector, I told you there was something wrong
about that Vargo.
Idiot!
Do you mean to say that this exquisite painting
is not a genuine Vargo?
No, no, Mr. Vargo, not your painting.
It is the Vermeer that is not genuine.
Oh, the Vermeer.
That Vermeer, yeah.
What?
Then the Vargo is authentic?
Unquestionably.
Thank you, Doctor.
Gentlemen, my reputation is vindicated.
I bid you good day.
What about the Lazar signature?
As your son surmised,
there is a painting under the "Woman in Blue."
Vargo painted over the work of Lazar, an obscure French painter,
whose reputation is better known in French police circles.
What's that?
Lazar only painted a handful of pictures.
He was chiefly remembered for murdering his art dealer...
Mueller by name...
with an ax.
A sensation in the French press in 1922.
An ax murder?
Of course. I remember now.
The Mueller case.
I used that material in one of my shows...
changed it around, naturally.
In my version, the killer was apprehended...
by me, of course.
You mean they didn't catch Lazar?
No, no, Lazar escaped.
He set fired to the boat trying to cover his crime.
They were on Mueller's boat in Cherbourg harbor.
Lazar was implicated, however, by a painting he left behind
which was not completely consumed in the flames.
Apparently, they quarreled.
Mueller was known to have a violent temper.
And Lazar was never found?
No, he has remained somewhat of a mystery.
The police didn't even have a good description of him.
No photograph of him is known to exist.
Professor Saltzman, is there any way of telling
what Lazar painted under the Vargo?
Alas, the fluoroscope revealed no details.
The only way to be sure... would be to scrape the Vargo off.
No, excuse me. We know what's under that painting.
Now, if Sergio Vargo is telling the truth...
he claims it's a picture of your wife.
Lillian?
Painted by this ax killer? Not a chance.
Well, she was in Europe in 1922.
You told us that, Mr. McGraw.
And we also know that she paid a lot more money
for that painting than she should have.
And more to the point, she was murdered
in the act of scraping off the Vargo.
Wait a minute. Hold on, will you?
Now, Lillian was in Switzerland.
What would she have been doing posing for this Lazar fella?
Didn't Mueller have a mistress?
Supposedly.
She disappeared after the Mueller murder.
You're crazy, all of you!
That is not Lillian's picture. It can't be!
Are you prepared to spend $50,000 to prove that, Mr. McGraw?
What?
There's a simply solution, if you feel your wife's reputation
is worth the money.
Simply scrape off the Vargo and see.
Gentlemen, please.
You would totally destroy the Vargo.
It's my money, and it's my painting.
Unmistakable.
I can't believe it.
She looks exactly like the day we were married.
Well, Inspector, I'd say you have a brand-new case on your hands.
Wouldn't you agree, Queen?
Yeah, Simon, I'd... I'd have to agree.
Ellery, I'm confused.
We've got the murder of a wealthy woman who collects art.
No witnesses, no evidence.
It looks as if she's knifed by somebody
who wants to steal a painting she's just bought, only it's a forgery.
But it turns out it's not a forgery.
Dad, I still think the key to the puzzle
is what happened in Cherbourg 25 years ago
when Miss Wakefield went to Europe, brought Lily McGraw home.
I hope so.
Oh, Inspector, Mr. Queen, please come in.
I was going to call you.
Hello, Miss Wakefield. Feeling better by now?
Yes, I was so upset last night there was something
I forgot to tell you.
Brimmer, Brimmer, not again.
Good evening, Inspector. A social call.
Miss Wakefield and I share an interest in art.
Isn't it a comfort to have somebody of his sensibility
here at a time like this?
Please, sit down.
May I get you a drink?
No, no, thank you.
You said there was something you forgot to tell us, Miss Wakefield?
Mrs. McGraw had a caller after the auction.
Oh? Who?
No one seems to know.
If you don't mind, Brimmer,
I'd rather Miss Wakefield answer the question.
Well, I had gone to take a nap, and the maid was out marketing.
I heard voices down here in the study.
Could it have been Mr. McGraw?
Oh, no, it wasn't Clint's voice. I'm sure of that.
Did Mrs. McGraw say who it was?
Well, actually, Inspector, I dozed off,
and I didn't remember it until this morning.
What about that doctor she was seeing?
Dr. Friedland?
Yeah.
No, I'm sure he doesn't make house calls.
I see we all agree the killer was someone Mrs. McGraw knew.
Naturally.
Obviously you've checked my alibi, Inspector.
That's part of my job.
The ticket seller at Radio City remembered you.
Then why are you here?
For the same reason I am here, my dear.
I had just told Miss Wakefield that Mrs. McGraw's portrait
was under the Vargo painting.
Well, if Mrs. McGraw posed for the painting,
she must have known Lazar.
Now, you brought her back from Europe.
Can you tell us anything about what happened?
Ah, are you sure I can't fix you a drink?
Quite sure.
Well, I suppose it's going to come out sooner or later, anyway.
Poor Clint. I'd hoped he'd never have to know the truth about this.
As you know, Lillian's parents were very wealthy.
Lily and Clint were engaged... sort of a high-school romance.
You and Mrs. McGraw are... were cousins?
No, I'm... I'm Clint's cousin.
Anyway, Lillian's parents sent her off to a girls school in Geneva.
And Mr. McGraw remained in Houston?
Yes, he was trying desperately to make a success of himself.
Well, after a few months, it became apparent
that there was something wrong.
With Mrs. McGraw?
Yes, she, uh...
She stopped attending classes, and she stopped writing.
Naturally, her parents were very upset.
In the end, I used my savings to go find her.
She had left Geneva.
There was nothing but these letters
from all over France asking for money.
You see, she... she had always wanted to study art,
but she found school stifling.
Well, it wasn't easy.
In the end, I did find her in Cherbourg.
Poor Clint. He never suspected.
"Suspected"?
She'd married a drunk art dealer named Mueller.
Married?
Yes.
He was a brute. He abused her constantly.
She was in a terrible state when I found her.
The night I arrived, she had taken an overdose of sleeping pills.
I was afraid she was going to die.
Go on.
Well, they were living in this boat of Mueller's,
a filthy little barge on Cherbourg harbor.
And Lazar... did you meet him?
Yes, he was a client of Mueller's.
He arrived the night I arrived... drunk.
There was a terrible row, something about paintings,
and then there was this fight.
And Lazar killed Mueller?
Yes.
It was terrible.
He did it with an ax.
And then he set fire to the boat.
I barely got Lillian out.
You actually saw Lazar kill Mueller?
Yes, I remember it vividly.
What did he look like?
Cruel.
He had a full beard and vicious eyes.
You think you'd recognize him if you saw him again?
Oh, I don't know, Mr. Queen. It was so long ago.
Anyway, you've probably guessed the rest of it.
I finally got Lillian home to Texas,
and she and Clint were married a month later.
Ellery, are you wondering what I'm wondering?
You mean about Lazar?
Yeah... what happened to him? Is it possible...?
Good question, Dad, good question.
Something else bothers me, too.
Yeah? What?
One of those paintings is a forgery.
Prescott sold it to the McGraws.
What do you say you and I pay a visit to that gallery tomorrow morning?
Look, Prescott... you sold Mrs. McGraw a phony Vermeer.
Eight hours later, she was murdered.
Sergio Vargo accused you of selling forgeries
immediately after the auction.
But he was mistaken.
The Vargo is genuine.
But the Vermeer is a fake.
Inspector, I've always acted in good faith.
Anton.
Anton Lucheck, my resident authenticator,
assured me that the Vermeer was genuine.
I had no reason to doubt its authenticity.
Perhaps my eyes are beginning to fail me, huh?
Anton, I'm afraid there can be no excuse for such an oversight.
We have a responsibility to our clients.
I want you to check every painting in the house immediately.
Oui, Monsieur.
Other questionable paintings
have passed through your gallery, Mr. Prescott.
Gentlemen, I assure you that if any forgeries
have been sold through the Prescott Gallery,
the money will be returned immediately.
Since we opened 25 years ago,
the Prescott Gallery has enjoyed a spotless reputation.
How long has Lucheck worked for you?
Since he's been in this country. Since 1923.
Mr. Prescott, I wonder if you could tell me...
Have any other Lazar paintings turned up on the market recently?
Not in this gallery.
We deal only in major artists.
I see.
I suppose you couldn't tell me what he looked like.
Looked like?
I have no idea.
Our police don't even have a description.
No doubt, that is why he was never apprehended.
Mm. I see.
Inspector, it is possible the forger became fearful
his deceit had been discovered.
He went to Mr. McGraw's house to steal the evidence...
At this point, I'm not ruling out anything.
Incidentally, the barman at the Stork Club
says that McGraw left somewhere around 11:00, not 12:00.
What about Mrs. McGraw's mysterious visitor?
Nobody we've talked to has come up with anything.
I have been working with your bunco squad.
They have gone over the Prescott Gallery.
Find anything suspicious?
Nothing, not one painting which could be considered a forgery.
Inspector, that report from the Immigration Department
just came in.
They have no record of Anton Lucheck
clearing Immigrations.
I thought there was something suspicious about that guy.
- Keep digging, Velie. - Yes, sir.
And incidentally, those people you questioned
about the mysterious visitor to the Wakefield townhouse...
question them again.
Neighbors, delivery boys, everybody.
Right.
Well, nearly suppertime. Think I'll grab a bite to eat.
Care to join me, Monsieur Gravette?
I'd be delighted.
Ellery? I'm buying.
Huh?
Oh, no, thanks, Dad. I got an appointment.
But you call me if you get anything.
I'll leave... I'll leave a number.
How long have you had this problem, Mr. Queen?
A couple of days.
I've been trying to figure it out, but it just doesn't make any sense.
I see.
You're confused, disoriented.
The fact that she didn't scream for several seconds
tells me that she knew whoever it was that came in
through the French window... and the blue flakes.
Blue flakes?
She must have known it was her own face under there.
That's why she scraped it off.
She scraped off her face?
No, the Vargo. At least, the name.
[Sighs]
And what about Lazar?
He could have shaved off his beard.
The beard?
Where did the fake Dutch master come from?
Was it the forger who came through the window,
and why didn't she lock it?
Mr. Queen, this "she" you keep referring to...
it's your mother.
No.
Lillian McGraw.
Mrs. McGraw?
Yes, that was tragic, but when did the poor woman mention me to you?
Dr. Friedland, I don't think you understand.
I'm trying to solve a murder.
Oh, I see.
Well, I'm terribly sorry,
but I cannot violate my professional ethics.
Look, Dr. Friedland,
she was murdered under rather mysterious circumstances,
and if you can tell me what was bothering her,
it might help me figure out who killed her.
Well, I'm afraid there's very little I can tell you that will help.
Mrs. McGraw came to see me about a week ago,
referred by her doctor in Texas.
She'd developed a blinding headache at a cocktail party,
followed by dizzy spells.
Can you tell me what caused it?
A form of depression caused by the repressed memory
of something extremely unpleasant that happened long ago in her youth.
Can you tell me what that was?
- No. - Oh.
I was exploring her subconscious under hypnosis,
but unfortunately her death terminated the treatment.
[Phone rings]
Yes? Oh, yes, he's here.
It's for you, Mr. Queen.
Ah.
Thank you.
Hello?
Oh, hi, Velie.
Glad I tracked you down, Maestro.
It turns out that Lucheck did time 15 years ago
in California on a forgery rap.
We're gonna pick him up now.
Your dad thought you might like to be in on it.
What's the address?
Got it. I'll be there in 10 minutes.
Thanks.
Maestro?
Hi, Velie.
Dad here yet?
He had to pick up the warrant.
Oh, here he is.
Paperwork.
Pretty soon, you'll need a judge's permission to question a suspect.
Lucheck's up there, Inspector. I can see the lights.
All right, you take the rear entrance. We'll take the front.
Ryan, cover us.
- Ellery, you get in... - No, Dad, I'm not waiting in the car.
At least until we get him into custody.
Dad!
All right, hold it. Police.
Hold it! Police!
I got him, Inspector.
I thought you were thieves.
Really, Inspector.
Really, Mr. Prescott.
Dad, this one's still wet.
And look at this... two undiscovered Picassos,
both identical.
It looks as if we have our forgers, Inspector.
Yeah.
But do we have our killers?
They're out on bail already?
I can't place them at the scene of the murder.
No witnesses.
And they claim they were together at the time.
Let's face it, Ellery, I don't have a murder case.
Well, what have we got, Dad?
A headache, and it's driving me up the wall.
I wish I had my tummy fizz.
I hope I'm not disturbing you, Inspector.
Just what I need.
I think I can help you, Inspector.
Let me guess... you've brought me an aspirin.
No, Inspector, I've brought you the solution to your case.
My private investigation has unraveled the mystery,
and if you'll join me
at the Prescott Gallery this evening at 8:30,
I'll reveal the murderer to you then.
If Brimmer is concealing evidence, I'll have his hide this time.
- What are you doing? - Looking for my other shoe.
There it is, under the desk.
Oh.
Well, if he solved the crime, what difference does it make?
It makes a lot of difference.
If he gives this story to the press,
he'll make us look like the Keystone Cops.
I still think the solution hinges on that painting,
and I wish I could figure it out.
Well, you better hurry because Brimmer will have the killer
and my hide if we don't get moving.
What's the hurry? It's only 10 after 7:10.
What?
Let me see your watch.
Here.
Ellery, it's 6 minutes after 8:00. You've got it on backwards.
Oh. Well that's what comes from hurrying.
I'll warm up the car.
Dumb.
Well, that's it.
How could I have missed it?
Now I know who killed Lillian McGraw.
And if you've been watching closely,
you've seen the clue, and more than once.
Have you got it?
Was it Lillian's husband, cousin Celeste, Prescott?
What about Lucheck?
And how about Vargo?
And is Claude Gravette really who he says he is?
Tell you one thing... the clue is as plain as the nose on your face.
[Indistinct chatter]
Ah, you've finally arrived. Now we shall begin.
Would you mind taking a seat, Inspector, Ellery?
I've asked everyone to be present because each of you
is interested in the Lillian McGraw murder.
One of you, in particular... the one who stabbed her.
Let us consider for a moment what happened 25 years ago
in France.
Mrs. McGraw, then a strong-willed young girl,
had defied her parents and married a young Bohemian named Mueller,
who had a painter friend named Lazar.
Marri...
Married? What are you talking about, Brimmer?
Lazar painted this portrait of Mrs. McGraw, then Mrs. Mueller.
Perhaps there was even some jealousy involved.
One night, there was a quarrel.
Lazar, in a rage, took an ax and murdered Mueller.
That's a lie! I mean, that... that never happened.
No, Clint, I'm afraid it's true.
And who would know better than Miss Wakefield,
who had arrived to bring the unfortunate young woman home?
She witnessed the crime.
Lazar, who wore a full beard in those days,
set fire to the boat and ran away,
only to re-appear 25 years later here in New York.
Are you saying that Lazar killed Mrs. McGraw?
Precisely, Inspector.
More significantly, Lazar is sitting here in this room now.
The maid's statement proves
that Mrs. McGraw's killer was known to her.
A member of the household?
Or possibly someone else
whose close relationship to Mrs. McGraw is not yet apparent.
Close? What?
No, no, no, I would have known if anybody was close...
The police have known for sometime that someone visited Mrs. McGraw
just a few hours before the murder.
They had been unable to identify the caller.
As a result of my private investigation,
I now know who that visitor was.
If you're concealing evidence, Brimmer...
I'm concealing nothing, Inspector.
I've merely employed methods more effective than the police.
Would Eddie Hummel please stand up?
We questioned that kid.
What did he tell you he didn't tell us?
Hey, you didn't tell me there were gonna be cops here.
Did you question him with a $20 bill in your hand, Inspector?
If the police spent that kind of money for information,
the city would go broke.
To continue...
Eddie Hummel makes deliveries for the Periwinkle Florist Shop.
He made a delivery of flowers at 5:20 p.m.
On the afternoon of the murder, next door to the victim's residence.
Eddie, did you see anyone come out
of the residence next door to your delivery?
Yeah.
You're certain?
Why?
Well, you meet a lot of weird people in New York,
but, I mean, this guy I got to remember.
Do you see that person in this room?
Yeah, this guy with the funny hat.
What if I did visit Mrs. McGraw that afternoon?
It proves nothing!
It proves that you were acquainted with Mrs. McGraw,
which accounts for the fact that she didn't scream
when you went back later to kill her.
Why would I kill her?
Because you had to have that painting.
Because you, Sergio Vargo, are, in reality, Pierre Lazar.
That is insane.
My style is completely different.
You murdered Mueller,
possibly in a quarrel over his pretty American wife,
whose portrait you'd painted.
Absurd.
You saw her again here in New York, and you recognized her.
You had already painted the "Woman in Blue"
over the old portrait,
a different rendering of the same subject...
Nonsense...
...in the new style you were beginning to experiment with,
the new style which eventually sold and made you famous.
No, no, no, no, no! It's a lie!
Yes, of course!
That's how she knew what was under that weird face!
You painted over your own picture before you killed Mueller!
Exactly.
Lillian McGraw was the one person
who could link Vargo with that murder,
and Vargo saw her buy that painting at that auction,
which meant she remembered.
Inspector, I commend the gentleman to your custody.
That's good enough for me.
Velie, put the cuffs on.
No, no, no, no!
- Hold out your... - You're making a terrible mistake!
Just calm down, buster!
Simon... Velie, hold it, please.
Don't put the cuffs on him yet. Simon, I'm sorry, but you're wrong.
Vargo couldn't have killed Lillian McGraw.
Surely, Queen, you of all people can see how my theory fits.
That's the point, Simon... it doesn't fit.
Now, you're close to the truth,
but you're overlooking one small detail,
and that's the mole on Mrs. McGraw's cheek.
You're talking nonsense.
Am I?
Dad, have you got that picture?
Thank you.
Now, a picture shows the way a face looks in real life.
Now, Mrs. McGraw's mole was on her right cheek.
In Lazar's portrait, the mole is on the left cheek.
Now, watch what happens when I put the picture up to a mirror.
The portrait was done from a mirror image.
It's a self-portrait.
Now, the mole in the mirror is on the same side
as it is in the portrait.
Are you saying that Lillian painted her own self-portrait
under the name Laz...?
Yes, Mr. McGraw.
Now, picture, if you will, a young American girl
sent to a finishing school in Switzerland
by her wealthy parents,
but she really prefers the Bohemian life of painting.
But she didn't want her parents to know
that she's painting in France, so she invented the name Lazar,
which she used to sign her pictures.
Well, if Mrs. McGraw was Lazar,
then she must be the one who killed Mueller.
Well, my guess is that that's what she thought, too,
but I don't think she killed anybody, Simon.
That's why she was seeing a psychiatrist.
To help her try to remember.
For heaven's sakes, Ellery, then who did kill Mrs. McGraw?
The same person who killed Mueller...
Celeste Wakefield.
- Wait... - Please, Mr. McGraw.
It was something you said that tripped you up, Miss Wakefield.
You described Lazar as an uncouth man with a beard.
You also said Lillian took an overdose of sleeping pills.
She couldn't have killed anyone.
You found Lillian married to a drunk.
Well, there went your plans to marry your cousin, Clint,
into a rich family.
You did swing that ax, didn't you?
All these years,
you had Lillian believing that you were protecting her.
That's why you're in the will.
But under her doctor's care, she was starting to remember.
And when she did, you'd lose your hold on her.
She told you about her conversation with Vargo,
why she wanted that picture.
She wanted that picture to help her remember what happened.
I told her to leave it alone, but she wouldn't listen.
Why did she have to drag up the past?
You thought she was alone that night.
You left the French doors unlocked, and then you came back.
I wanted people to believe it was a burglary.
I lived all my life on that small allowance
she gave me, while she squandered her money.
And then I realized I could have my own money.
I'm sorry, Clint.
Velie.
One thing I'd like to know, Vargo,
why did you go to see her that afternoon?
From the way she behaved,
I knew she was more interested in the picture under my masterpiece.
I was afraid she would destroy my "Woman in Blue"
to get at the under painting.
I thought it was merely the vanity of a rich woman.
Sorry we had to destroy your painting.
Oh, true genius can never be defeated.
I shall create another masterpiece, another "Woman in Blue,"
this time more beautiful.
And now it will be worth a fortune.
I sold the other one years ago for a pittance.
Now I've seen it all.
Nice piece of work, Queen.
You followed my diversionary ploy perfectly.
Diversionary ploy? Oh, come on, Brimmer.
Surely, Inspector, you don't believe that I didn't realize
that Mrs. McGraw had painted that self-portrait?
I have the practiced eye of an expert.
Wasn't it I who pointed out that the Vermeer was a forgery?
Wasn't it you that pointed out
it was the Vargo that was the forgery?
Nonsense.
Dr. Saltzman and I both spotted that something was wrong
about that Vermeer.
What was it, Doctor, that tipped you off?
Actually, Mr. Brimmer, it's almost a perfect copy.
However, the forger overdid the glazing to make it look old.
It was too dark.
I told you that the first time I laid eyes on it.
Come along, Maestro.