Machetes! Voodoo! Angela Lansbury!
Today we’re recapping an episode of Murder, She Wrote that takes place in New Orleans. It’s the
kick-off to the Mardi Gras Week mini-event, as well as an excuse to watch one
of the greatest mystery shows of all time. Not that you need an excuse. And
also not that this is one of the best episodes, in fact there’s a good chance
that this is the worst episode…
I’m really not sure how a modern person can get through life
without a cursory knowledge of Murder,
She Wrote, but in case you have, I’ll help you out:
Jessica Fletcher, played by aspirational figure Angela
Lansbury, was a high school English teacher for many years, until her husband
Frank passed away and she retired. Between widowhood and her abundant spare
time, she decided she needed a distraction, so she wrote a novel called “The
Corpse Danced at Midnight.” Her idiot
nephew Grady sent it to a publisher without asking her permission, and it sold,
and was published, and kept selling, and now Jessica – or J.B. Fletcher – is an
international literary sensation. Agatha Christie 2.0.
In between writing books and tending her little garden in
Cabot Cove, Jessica solves 263 murders (actual statistic). Murder surrounds her,
for some reason. It was as if when she wrote that first book, she awoke the
slumbering Phonoi, Greek spirits of violent death, and drew their wrathful gaze
upon people she met at book signings.
This time around, things are going to get slightly more violent than they normally
do. We’re in the show’s final season, in all its mid-90’s glory, and that’s the
time when writers and directors get a little crazy and do some weird stuff
because they’re not coming back next year.
Ready? Let’s get started!
We open on a man in glasses running through what I would
describe as more of a jungle than a bayou setting. He’s being pursued by forces
unseen, and sweating profusely. But there is no hope for this man who looks
vaguely like Bill Pullman in The Serpent
and the Rainbow, because he comes upon a medium sized tree with a
non-venomous snake in it. There’s no physical way to go around those, so he
turns to his attacker and accepts his fate.
Death by gleaming machete.
Drums beat in the background. Voodoo-y drums.
Thirty seconds in, and we’re already doing a time skip? Something
tells me this is going to be a cluttered recap…
Lt. Tibideaux, played by the amiably gruff G.W. Bailey, is
investigating the crime scene. The body is so fresh, it’s bleeding through the
coroner’s sheet. He picks up the victim’s glasses and takes a look at them,
just in case people at home were uncertain if this was supposed to be the same
body from five seconds ago.
Soon enough, Tibideaux is joined by investigative
journalists, redhead Cynthia Broussard and Tom McCray, the reporter that
doesn’t know the meaning of “compromising the investigation”. Tom and Cynthia were
friends with the victim – Jim Nash, an intern at their newspaper – and they
also helpfully inform us that this was the fourth machete murder in the last
three months. That means that MSW New Orleans has been averaging 1.33 machete
related deaths per month over one summer, which is kind of badass.
Each murder has had the same calling card left at the scene:
a rooster foot talisman.
Of course, none of these three really believe in voodoo, but
it’s hard to deny that somebody clearly tried to chop this guy’s head off and left a rooster foot by his body, so
not believing in it isn’t going to
make a hell of a lot of difference when you’re investigating it as a motive,
but hey. It’s important to these characters that we know they’re not voodoo
people. And neither was Victim Jim; he was convinced that the voodoo aspects of
the machete crimes were being used to disguise the fact that they were about
turf wars between supper clubs.
Tom insists that it’s worth looking into, and that he’s not
going to rest until he’s uncovered all of the corruption in New Orleans (pfft,
good luck). Lt. Tibideaux tells him if he keeps talking like that, machete
victim number five isn’t going to be much of a surprise.
The next day, at the Broussard mansion in the heart of New
Orleans, Jessica Fletcher has ensconced herself in one of the best libraries of
local history in the city. Jessica isn’t like Perry Mason or Columbo, she
doesn’t take her sweet time getting involved in the action. The show knows what
the audience is there for, and it ain’t compelling side characters. Five
minutes in, if there’s no Lansbury, it’s channel changing time.
Pacing around the towers of books is Lt. Tibideaux, who’s
come to ask Jessica about Victim Jim. Apparently, the last note in Victim Jim’s
social diary was to pick up J.B. Fletcher for dinner. This was because Jessica
had gotten Victim Jim’s name from the AP in New York, and was asking him about
voodoo crimes for her next novel. Why we establish all of this instead of
saying that Journalist Cynthia (Jessica is staying with the Brossard family
after all) introduced her family friend to a colleague with the necessary
expertise is kind of baffling. Streamlining is not this episode’s strong point.
There’s nothing for Tibideaux to concern himself with,
though he does warn Jessica that “the most interesting thing about contemporary
New Orleans is that it has the highest murder rate in the country.”
Notably, between 1993 and 1995, New Orleans really was the murder capital of the United
States, with 85.8 murders per 100,000 residents. The current murder capital is St.
Louis, with about 49.9 murders per 100,000 residents. The highest murder rate
of all time belonged to New Orleans between 2007 and 2009, spiking at 94.7.
Anyway, Tibideaux is taking his leave when he crosses paths
with the lady of the house, Emily Broussard-Renwyck, played by Elizabeth
Ashley. They chat about background information for a little while, emphasizing
that Emily’s family is well-respected, and that she recently married former
senator Brent Renwyck.
Tibideaux exits, and Senator Brent enters, noting that it
“looks like Hurricane Andrew” went through the library. That’s not funny, Senator
Brent. People died.
He reaches into the drawer, grabs the book, and winds up
with a nasty splinter.
“I guess those old-time carpenters get more reputation than
they deserve!” He jokes.
As someone who restores antiques for a living, I have
decided to let this whole thing go. Nobody wants to read an essay on drawer
maintenance right now, and Senator Brent needs that splinter for plot-related
purposes.
Just… letting it go…
That chest of drawers is not a real antique, by the way.
Time to introduce another new character! This time, it’s
housekeeper Yvette, who has been with the Broussards for a very long time, and
is played by MSW regular Olivia Cole. Every time Jessica found her way to New
Orleans, she ran into a different character played by Cole. Anyway, turns out
everyone’s excited because Yvette’s daughter Priscilla will be singing at the
opening of Senator Brent’s new nightclub.
Speaking of the nightclub, Senator Brent has to go check on
things, so he’s going to exit the scene now. Emily follows him to the door for
a quick private word while Jessica and Yvette chat in the library. I tell you,
this house’s foyer is like a traffic jam of side characters and exposition. And
we are in no way done meeting all of the many confusing characters.
Okay, so the day before, Emily had tried to withdraw some
money from one of her and Senator Brent’s joint accounts, but the bank said
there wasn’t any money to be withdrawn. And that, as every woman who did not
grow up wealthy knows, means your man spent all your money and it’s gone
forever. But Emily is less cynical about these things, and chooses to believe Senator
Brent’s explanation that the last week’s unexpected rain did water damage to
the club and there were a ton of repairs and he forgot to mention it, and all
the other accounts still have money in them.
Feel free to raise one eyebrow and go: “Mmm-hmm.”
Emily says that all she wants is for him to be frank about
what’s happening with their money and not shield her from the realities of the
club’s costs. (Senator Brent has somehow spent literally all of your money,
Emily. Every penny in the proud Broussard legacy is gone.)
Naturally, Senator Brent just tells his wife to trust him,
and she says of course she will, and they kiss.
Meanwhile, we head across town to a small voodoo-themed
curio shop. It’s here we catch our first glimpses of a key villain, and one of
the more helpful side characters. Ralph Danton and Vera Wells. They’re a very
different kind of couple than the one we last saw, because we’re introduced to
them while Ralph is beating up Vera for talking to Victim Jim before he died.
According to Vera, she and Victim Jim were just friends, but Ralph thinks that
investigative reporters do not make friends with the girlfriends of known
underworld enforcers for no reason. And while he may have a point, he’s still
the worst person ever.
Vera insists that even if that was the case, she never told
Victim Jim anything that could hurt Ralph.
Ralph starts going through her bag, because he’s just a
swell guy, and says that “Roussel” isn’t going to buy her story, which means
that Ralph can’t buy her story.
“What kind of questions did he ask you?” Ralph repeats
menacingly.
“No questions,” Vera says, “no answers. I swear.”
Ralph finds a plane ticket to Los Angeles in Vera’s bag.
People don’t skip town if they’re not in trouble, Ralph suggests. (Maybe an
abusive boyfriend with underworld connections is threatening her life?)
Vera explains that she’s enrolled in a nursing program, and
– shockingly – Ralph does not believe
her.
He grabs her by the hair and goes to slap her when the bell
at the shop door rings, because Jessica has happened onto the scene. Ralph
relaxes and pretends to be all sweetness as he leans toward Vera and whispers
that if she wants to live, she’d better not leave town. He smiles unctuously at
Jessica as he slips past her and out the door.
She looks concerned.
Vera asks if she can help her, and Jess says she’s not sure
which one of them needs help, but the reason she’s here is she’s looking for
someone named Callie. Unfortunately, Vera tells us, Callie died a few months
ago.
Darn. Apart from being very friendly, Callie had helped
Jessica on a book before, and she was hoping to get some more info from her
about a deadly herb called Anacycla Lupus. It’s totally made up, by the way, so
don’t go rushing out to buy any for your next murder spree. Anyway, Jessica
first heard about it when she was in Jamaica, and it’s totally illegal to sell
in the United States, but she had some questions about it for her new book.
Vera says that there are a couple of places you can find it.
Jessica is a super meticulous researcher by this point in
the series for some reason. She never just makes stuff up, she always has to
triple check that it’s possible in real life and do things like buy the illegal
poison her killer is going to buy, even though she has a perfectly good
imagination. Something that cannot always be said for the writers of Murder, She Wrote.
Apparently, Callie had also promised to take Jessica to the
Goula Ruins for St. John’s Eve, the major event in the voodoo calendar. (The
St. John’s Eve sequence, and voodoo itself, plays a very minor role in this
episode. It’s also more like 70’s horror movie voodoo than anything remotely
realistic, so heads up before we get to the secret midnight ritual.)
Vera is another character who doesn’t believe in voodoo, but
she tells Jessica to come back at sundown, and she’ll try to arrange something.
We’ve gotten quite a few side characters to keep track of so
far, haven’t we? Lt. Tibideaux, Journalist Cynthia, Annoying Tom, Emily,
Yvette, Senator Brent, Ralph, Vera – let’s go get at least four more!
Starting with Priscilla, Yvette’s daughter who’s been living
in New York.
Priscilla is being played by Anne-Marie Johnson, an actress
my generation knows best as Donna Cabonna from That’s So Raven. She’s rehearsing at Brent’s new nightclub, with a
band that includes pianist Charlie. Charlie is important, so don’t forget him.
Senator Brent comes by to see how everybody’s doing
rehearsing songs, sweeping floors, and washing glasses. His style of management
and ownership is to come in, smile and wave, and leave. There is no way such a
hands-off approach will backfire on him, I’m sure. He nods along cheerfully as
he watches Priscilla perform, despite the fact that she’s not at her best
because she’s distracted by emotional baggage.
In fact, she asks Charlie if everyone can take five while
she makes a phone call.
Senator Brent stops her for a second to say how happy Emily
and Yvette are that Priscilla is going to be singing at the opening. He’s
polite enough about it, it’s not weird or anything, but Priscilla is simmering
with disdain and pushes past him to make her call. Considering this is the
first time they’ve met, she seems to have awfully strong feelings about the
bland, money-burning Senator Brent.
Turns out, Priscilla’s urgent phone call is to Emily Broussard.
(Funny, she didn’t mention that to Emily’s husband two seconds ago…) She says
she has to see her as soon as possible. Emily suggests they get together for
lunch after the opening, since there’s so much going on, but Priscilla insists
it has to be today. Emily agrees because she’s very fond of Priscilla; Priscilla’s
mother having worked for the Broussards for several decades.
After Priscilla ends the call, Emily turns to Yvette and says
that stuff is probably going on.
Yvette looks apprehensive and secretive.
Meanwhile, back at the club, Priscilla is on the verge of
tears as she holds the receiver for the kind of emotional support only an
inactive phone can give. Charlie comes over to check on her, and we’re treated
to this chestnut:
“Oh, Charlie. I think I’m going to do something I hope I
don’t regret.”
At least you aren’t definitely committed to doing something
you know you can’t take back.
Charlie, old family friend that he is, assures her that her
instincts are always flawless and that she should follow her heart. Priscilla
says it’s just what she needed to hear.
Over in the backroom office – which is ridiculously nice for
a nightclub – Senator Brent is having a meeting with the shadowy Roussel,
creepy crony Mal Carter, and Ralph Danton of the-guy-who-hit-Vera notoriety.
Ralph is watching out the window, while Mal stands around all creepily, and
Roussel and Senator Brent talk business.
This is not a group you want to find out your fiscally
irresponsible husband is hanging around with. Emily is in for some tough news.
Today, Senator Brent is supposed to sign a contract that
says if he dies, the club will go to Creepy Mal. All of the legal documents are
using Creepy Mal as a strawman, since Roussel is… a controversial figure. I’m
putting this gently because I like Roussel for no real reason, except that he
has an old-fashioned face and a way about him that reminds me of the gentleman
gangsters from the 1940’s.
Unsurprisingly, Senator Brent is reluctant to sign a
document that basically amounts to “Permission to Murder Brent Should He
Displease You.” He says it’s because there’s no protection for Emily, obviously
thinking that nobody would ever actually murder him in the murder capital of the United States. Didn’t Senator Brent used
to be in politics? Shouldn’t he have thought of all of this?
Roussel helps the conversation out.
Apparently, while Senator Brent was in office, he was known
as “Honest Brent of Louisiana” which is a godawful nickname, I mean, really.
(They should have named him Gabriel Renwyck, it sounds substantially more New
Orleans-y, and can be shortened to “Honest Gabe.”) Also, all of that money
that’s supposed to be in Emily’s bank accounts? It’s not tied up in the club,
or being spent on rain repairs. It’s just gone forever, because Honest Brent
decided he was smarter than the stock market. Roussel – who owns several clubs
around the city – found out about this and suggested that Senator Brent sink
the remaining portion of Emily’s fortune into his newest nightclub venture,
earn back what was missing, and call it a day.
Senator Brent fell for this, because he’s an idiot.
As for the contract, Senator Brent argues that he won’t sign
it, and there’s nothing Roussel can do about it, because if the city finds out
that Creepy Mal’s participation is fraudulent, Roussel will lose all of his
money. Roussel counters that the press will also out all of Senator Brent’s
financial disasters, discover that his business application was essentially
perjured, shame his wife publicly, and reveal the horrible truth to Emily. And
all of that would be before Roussel
took the losses out of Emily’s family antiques.
Roussel is willing to gamble the money. Is Brent willing to
gamble his reputation?
Senator Brent signs the documents.
While that’s being taken care of, Ralph asks his boss to
come over to the window so that he can show him investigative reporter Tom
McCray hanging around on the other side of the street. Tom was good buddies
with Victim Jim, the gangsters all recall. Roussel tells Ralph to follow Tom.
“Wait, though,” you ask, “Isn’t Tom just following Roussel?
Why would Ralph need to follow him?”
To ensure that if Tom follows Roussel anywhere
incriminating, Ralph can kill him right away. It’s like Tom is now the ham in a
sandwich of danger. Also, Ralph will follow Tom to see what else he’s up to,
and who else he might be meeting with. It gives them a better scope of who has
eyes on their shady voodoo murders.
Speaking of shady voodoo murders, Jessica is hard at work on
her novel about them back at the Broussard mansion. She’s continuing her
research into Marie Laveau by reading the book Senator Brent shoved in that
drawer. Behind her, Yvette is making an effort to try and keep the library as
orderly as possible, despite Jess’s constant rummaging.
In the center of the book, Jessica finds an old photo of
when Emily was a little girl. The family chauffeur is holding the car door open
for little Emily, her father, and a young Yvette. Yvette seems strangely
put-off by the image, but says that it was taken when she first started working
for the Broussards as Emily’s governess. Jessica calls it a lucky find.
“What’s lucky is you being here, Mrs. Fletcher,” Yvette
says, not understanding that Jessica ups the likelihood of a violent death by a
considerable amount. “Miss Emily is going to need a friend.”
Huh. Ominous.
Emily herself shows up just in time to gush over the old
photo, noting that her dad looked super dandified on picnic days. She says
Senator Brent’s kind of the same, and laughs about men and fashion as she tucks
the photo back in the splinter drawer.
In the background, Yvette quietly leaves the room so that
Cynthia can enter and change the subject. There’s a lot of character tag team
moments because there are so many people involved in this story. Too many
people, honestly.
Take Emily’s daughter Cynthia, whose nose for news, curly
red hair, and expressive face give her an undeniably likeable quality.
Unfortunately, she’s totally pointless.
Currently, she’s making a delivery on behalf of Victim Jim’s
estate, sort of. She and Tom were packing up their dead colleague’s desk when
they came across a packet of newspaper clippings addressed to Jessica. So
Cynthia brought them to the house for her.
Jessica, in slightly poor taste given that Victim Jim died
like two days ago, says that getting the clippings is going to save her life.
Tragic that cutting them out couldn’t have saved Jim’s.
Cynthia also asks Jessica to meet Tom at the Café Du Monde
at 3:00 so that he can “fill in some of the blanks” for her. Then Cynthia leaves,
because her character exists for brief transitional actions. It’s kind of a
bummer, because she’s got a really dynamic face.
After she’s gone, Emily lets us in on some of the
awkwardness floating around. Turns out Cynthia is madly in love with Tom, but
while Senator Brent was in office, Tom used to shred him to pieces in the
paper. Because nothing keeps an honest man honest like unrelenting pressure
from the media to fulfil campaign promises at lightning speed. Good job, Tom!
New Orleans needs more men like you!
Jessica tells Emily that Tom only did all of that stuff
because he respects Senator Brent, and that Emily is sensitive because she
doesn’t want to see her man get hurt.
Emily should murder Senator Brent. That would be funny.
3:00 immediately rolls around, because we’re packing a lot
of activity into one day for no reason. Jessica goes to meet Tom, and the café
around them is full of souvenirs and tacky t-shirts. Just the kind of place
locals like to eat. (Okay, in fairness, despite how touristy it is, some locals
do like to eat at the real Café Du
Monde because there’s a fifty percent chance of it being beignet heaven.
There’s also a fifty percent chance of you getting a squishy rectangle of
semi-raw dough, especially if you go during peak hours, when you’ll be waiting
forty minutes to get a seat, surrounded by a bunch of people who can’t say
“café au lait” and send one of their friends to find a bank machine because
they didn’t realize it was cash only, despite all of the prominently displayed
signs that read “Cash Only.”) Sitting just behind them, during a really bad job
of keeping a low-profile, is Ralph Danton. He’s wearing a bright red shirt.
It turns out, that envelope of clippings there was one with
an appointment scribble on it: Goula Ruins, 7pm.
Jessica takes this to mean that Victim Jim was meeting
someone at the Goula Ruins at 7:00 on the night of his murder. That’s… helpful,
Jessica. Thank you.
She also notes that he was supposed to pick her up at 8:00,
and called to confirm at 6:00, saying he would be coming straight from the
newspaper. So whoever lured Victim Jim to the ruins must’ve made the phone call
after 6:00! Quick, go tell Lt.
Tibideaux so he can subpoena the newspaper’s phone records and try to narrow
down where the call came from!
Tom adds that Victim Jim called him at 6:30, all hyped up.
That narrows it down even more! This is great!
“Tom, if you can figure out who made that call…” Jessica
says.
“Then maybe we can figure out who suckered him to the
ruins!”
…wait. No. GO GET THE POLICE, YOU GUYS. There is no reason
not to give them this information, and it’s the kind of lead that they’re much
better equipped to track down. Why entrust this to some wavy haired reporter
with a slimy fake drawl? Tibideaux seemed pretty on the ball to me.
Jessica finally notices Ralph, recognizing him from that
morning at the curio shop. She describes him to Tom, who asks if he’s wearing a
heavy medallion. Jessica nods.
“That’s Ralph Danton, Frank Roussel’s hired muscle. I wish
to heck I could get rid of him, I’ve got a meeting with Brent Renwyck this
afternoon.”
Suckered? Heck? Are you a hardboiled investigative
reporter shining a searing light on corruption, or are you Archie Andrews? You
cannot be both.
Jessica offers to distract Ralph for Tom, and Tom agrees. Tom agrees to let a retired
English teacher handle a known murderer on his behalf. Now, I’m not saying
Jessica can’t handle herself, but I do object to the principle of letting her
handle this. Ralph Danton cuts
people’s heads off with a machete, or so all the evidence would indicate. He
beats up his girlfriend. He’s not going to react well to this.
Cowardly Tom, as he will henceforth be known, throws a
twenty on the table (how many beignets did they eat?!) and ducks out of the
restaurant. Jessica, meanwhile, positions herself directly between Tom and
Ralph, forcing Ralph to jostle her if he wants to pass by. When Ralph tries to
move around her, she starts shouting at him in a thick Southern accent,
because, um, New Orleans?
She concocts this crazy accusation of Ralph following her
all around town, and she demands to know why. Like, she makes up places she’s
been and claims he was there, and draws a whole lot of attention, and pretty
soon the waiter is there asking if he needs to call the police, and Ralph
slithers away.
Jessica thanks the waiter with her normal accent, and the
waiter is like: “Huh?”
I find it to be a very odd distraction, to be honest. The
fake accent, the style of accusation, it’s unnecessarily complicated. And I
watch Mission: Impossible. My
tolerance for needless complications is pretty high.
Hey, while we’re on the subject of needless complications,
do you remember how upset Priscilla was when she phoned Emily a few scenes ago?
Well, now we get to find out why!
Priscilla is at the Broussard mansion, reading out an
anonymous letter she recently received alleging that Arthur Broussard – Emily’s
father – had been having a decades-long affair with Yvette, and was Priscilla’s
biological father. If Priscilla needed proof, she should look into who paid her
tuition at Julliard, and she would find that it was none other than Arthur
Broussard. Priscilla pronounces it “Bruh-zard” for some reason.
Emily is, understandably, blindsided by this. She points out
that it’s an anonymous letter, and as much as she loves Priscilla, she thinks
that it’s a cruel joke or a scheme of some kind. Priscilla venomously spits
that what Emily can’t believe is that her father was so arrogant he slept with
the housekeeper and then, after she got pregnant, kept her on as a housekeeper.
Julliard called to confirm the records that morning. Arthur
Broussard did pay Priscilla’s
tuition.
Scandalous!
Priscilla demands half of Arthur’s estate – which is half of
zero, thanks to Honest Senator Brent. Emily says that she’s more than happy to
give Priscilla what she’s entitled to, but she has to at least confirm this
claim with Yvette.
Conveniently, Yvette pops out of the shadows and says that
everything in the letter is 100% accurate. After Emily’s mother died, Arthur
was lonely. He was the only man Yvette ever loved.
Seems legit.
Time for some more oddly structured dialogue from Priscilla:
“Emily, I know it’s in your nature to cooperate. But if you
don’t? I guess I’ll have to sue you. And I don’t have to tell you what that
could do to your family name.”
Dear whoever wrote Priscilla’s dialogue, perhaps you should
have listened to how humans make sentences? It might have helped.
Actually, a quick hop over to IMDB tells me that this
tangled web of tiny scenes between extraneous characters was penned by Cynthia
Demming and William J. Royce, a duo who worked together often on In The Heat of the Night and later on Diagnosis Murder. (Oh my god, I forgot
about that show, we’re totally watching Diagnosis
Murder sometime! I don’t care if you don’t want to!) The In the Heat of the Night connection
explains why things are going wrong here in the style that they are. That show
was an ensemble.
Also interesting to note, Ann-Marie Johnson (Priscilla) was
Althea Tibbs over on In the Heat of the
Night. Should’ve maybe mentioned that before That’s So Raven.
Up next: Ultraviolet Voodoo Party!
Thanks to Batman Forever, ultraviolet lights were all the
rage in 1995 filmmaking. It was a fad that quickly died down, because it didn’t
actually look cool. In this scene, the white costumes of voodoo revellers at
the Goula Ruins are glowing slightly as the ultraviolet light mingles
ineffectively with the torchlight.
Jessica and Vera are watching from some bushes while Jessica
takes notes. It’s not totally clear if they’re allowed to be there or not, but
they probably have permission and were told to keep at a safe observational
distance. Vera notes that voodoo makes her uncomfortable.
So is everyone clear that the majority of characters don’t
like voodoo? For some reason, it’s important to make it obvious that this is
more of a crazy superstition than an actual religion. Keeping things super
respectful and doing our homework over on Murder,
She Wrote.
You know which character does
believe in voodoo? Ralph Danton. He’s lit like Dracula, with a beam of light
across his eyes and the rest of his face in shadow, as he winds through the
ceremony. Jessica notices him at once and asks Vera what he might be doing
there.
“That’s a dangerous question,” Vera replies.
“Mr. Danton seems like a dangerous man,” Jessica nods.
She wants to know what’s been going on between Ralph and
Vera, and Vera says (somewhat evasively) that she got too close to one of the
voodoo murders Victim Jim was writing about. So close, she wanted to run away.
But Danton won’t let her go. That crazy medallion he wears? That’s not disco
jewellery. It’s pure silver and there’s a machete stamped on to it. The machete
warns you to stay silent.
Wait.
Wait.
Wait.
There is a man who has been closely linked to the machete
murders for a number of extremely valid reason wandering around with a picture of a machete on him?! Arrest
him! Bring him in for questioning! Search his addresses and storage lockers for
machetes and test the machetes for human blood! What is everyone doing, eating
beignets and making inappropriate hurricane jokes?! Catch this killer!
Ralph gets dangerously close to seeing the two observers,
and Vera declares:
“Oh Lord, Jessica, I need to get the heck out of here.”
Ugh. It’s like “Donnie and Marie and the Curse of the Voodoo
Ruins.”
Jessica and Vera leave, and in the middle of the voodoo
dance, Ralph does his best Voodoo Laugh but falls woefully short of the
legendary Geoffrey Holder, originator and master of the technique.
So, back when Cowardly Tom said he had a meeting with Brent
Renwyck this afternoon, what he meant to say was: “I’m going to go ambush my
girlfriend’s stepfather at ten o’clock at night.”
Senator Brent’s pretty cool about it, and says that it’s
largely because of Cynthia he’s being so nice to Tom. Since leaving the senate,
he hasn’t done any interviews, and he wasn’t particularly fond of doing them
when he was in office. But he gives Tom a giant snifter of brandy and says
he’ll answer some questions.
“Jim Nash is dead,” Senator Brent reminds everyone.
“You’re looking at his ghost, Mr. Renwyck,” Tom replies.
Creepy Mal Carter, meanwhile, has chosen this exact moment
to hang around Brent’s door and eavesdrop. While he wears sunglasses inside and
a bright red carnation pinned to a baggy cream blazer with something that looks
like a pearl-head eyedropper. The 90’s; what a time to be alive!
Not knowing that one of Roussel’s top goons is listening in,
Tom boasts that he has all of Victim Jim’s tapes and papers, and he’s on the
cusp of discovering what led him into the Bayou. Tom apparently doesn’t realize
that these things are like recipes – follow the same steps as the last guy, and
you’ll get the same result.
By the way, Senator Brent’s office has a giant bottle of absinthe in it. In case
we weren’t sure if we were in New Orleans.
Tom tells Senator Brent, and Mal (unintentionally), that
Victim Jim had transcripts from “a computer hacker friend of his” of Emily’s
accounts – hang on. Tom, who is dating Cynthia, knows that all of Emily’s money
is gone, and instead of gently warning his girlfriend and her mother, he’s
confronting Senator Brent? Tom can go to heck.
The two of them then go over a lot of stuff we’ve already
covered. The end result is Senator Brent doesn’t tell Tom anything he doesn’t
already know, and he doesn’t confirm any of Tom’s theories. Despite this, Creepy
Mal is not pleased at the outcome of this conversation. And Tom is pretty on
the money about The Brent Situation, except for little details like the
contract and whether or not Senator Brent is aware that Roussel is behind the
machete murders by way of Ralph Danton.
After the conversation is over, Cowardly Tom leaves the
club.
And Creepy Mal calls Roussel to tell him there’s trouble.
The next day, Jessica and Emily are having a nice brunch and
discussing The Priscilla Claim. Jessica called a good friend of hers at
Julliard, maybe that Russian ballerina she helped defect a few seasons ago, and
got the scoop on Priscilla’s tuition. It was paid by Arthur Broussard. But,
Jessica points out, that’s not at all conclusive, and just to protect everyone,
Priscilla should have a DNA test. Emily, not knowing how DNA works, says that
it would be impossible because Arthur was cremated.
(Psst, Emily, you have some of Arthur Brussard’s DNA. They
could check Priscilla against you.)
Emily excuses her clouded thinking, saying she just doesn’t
know which way is up since Priscilla showed her that letter.
That letter. Jessica doesn’t like it. Why is it anonymous?
Who wrote it, and with what motive? Other than Yvette, who could have known
such a thing, and why come forward without coming forward at all?
“Your father liked the word ‘Bamboozled’, remember?” Jessica
smiles warmly, and Emily laughs. “Don’t be bamboozled. Look to yourself, not to
Brent or anybody, and take charge of your own life.”
That reminds Emily, she still hasn’t told Senator Brent
about all of this, and she is not looking forward to that conversation.
I am, though! Let’s watch!
Senator Brent starts off the proceedings by freaking out and
being classist. Housekeepers and their daughters are not trustworthy sources of
information, Emily! Maids steal! Only the middle class and up can afford to
have ethics, everyone else is just scrambling for the fastest ways to trick you
out of your inheritance! Not like Honest Senator Brent, who would never dream of taking your money…
Emily trusts Yvette, though. Yvette has been like family.
And if Priscilla does have a case, she and her mother are entitled to
compensation.
“From what money?!” Senator Brent shouts, before catching
himself. “Everything’s tied up in the club!”
“Not everything,” Emily replies, “Unless there’s something
you haven’t told me?”
Senator Brent looks shiftier than the bottom row of a
keyboard, but he shakes his head. Emily then announces that she’s arranged for
an audit of personal and business assets.
Ha ha, awesome. Good luck, Brent!
He flips out and accuses Emily of not trusting him, which is
a pretty big red flag. Emily doesn’t notice, because…?
“You’ve spent your life getting things done for other
people. Now you are finally doing
something for yourself and for us. Tonight’s your opening night. Let’s not
spoil it.”
Poor Emily.
Speaking of opening night, Charlie is serenely warming up at
the piano out front, and we’re treated to a nice shot of his awesome horseshoe
ring made of diamonds. Man, jazz musicians have the best accessories.
Priscilla is nursing a drink at the bar, which shouldn’t be selling anybody alcohol because they’ll need it to make sure they don’t run out on opening night, but whatever. Senator Brent hired a terrible bar manager. Big shock.
Priscilla is nursing a drink at the bar, which shouldn’t be selling anybody alcohol because they’ll need it to make sure they don’t run out on opening night, but whatever. Senator Brent hired a terrible bar manager. Big shock.
Senator Brent himself storms out of his office, where he was
just having that super private conversation with his wife, even though the
office has like zero privacy as we learned from Creepy Mal’s eavesdropping
antics. He heads straight for Priscilla and warns her that what she and Yvette
are trying to do is a crime called Conspiracy to Defraud. That’s pretty rich, Senator.
Do you want everyone to start having conversations about fraud? Because that’s
a thing that can happen.
Priscilla flinches as he shouts at her, and gets a
sympathetic look from old Charlie.
That night, the band is playing very weakly and Priscilla’s
mic is way too loud and she doesn’t sound very good. She’s wearing a really
unflattering white silk dress and a crown of glitter-covered gardenias.
Actually, not so different from what recent Julliard grads wear today. I guess
glittery flower crowns are an ever-present bane of mankind.
Creepy Mal is drinking a giant glass of red wine over at the
bar, and toasts Senator Brent menacingly as Brent passes by on the way to his
office.
While he does that, Cynthia joins Jessica and Emily at their
opening night table. She awesomely asserts that she thinks the whole paternity
claim thing going on is ridiculous, then refers to Priscilla as “Aunt
Priscilla” and makes an amazing mean girl face at the band.
Voodoo time!
For a very brief sequence, we get to watch Yvette work a
ritual on a doll that looks like it’s either supposed to be Brent, or Mr. Bill
from Saturday Night Live.
You know who I thought was interesting? Roussel. It’s high
time we caught up with him.
He’s speeding down the streets of Los Angeles New
Orleans in the back of his limousine, chatting with Ralph, who tells him that
Vera brought a friend of Victim Jim’s to the Goula Ruins. Roussel says that
Ralph has managed to turn a little problem into a big problem. The impressive
high tech car phone rings.
Roussel answers. It’s Senator Brent. Poor, foolish Senator Brent.
Senator Brent who is about to tell Roussel about the audit.
He also asks for a quick infusion of cash, to throw everybody off
the trail until the club starts making money.
“The bank’s closed, Senator.”
Senator Brent gets angry and says if the audit goes through
and Emily’s lawyers find the money missing, there will be no way to prevent the
reality of the arrangement with Roussel from reaching the District Attorney’s
office. He hangs up the phone angrily.
Unsurprisingly, Roussel follows this conversation up by
calmly placing a phone call to Creepy Mal Carter.
Back at the club, Senator Brent strolls out of his office
all smiles to check on Emily, Jessica and Cynthia. He pulls Emily aside to tell
her that they need to go home right now. How would you like a new life in
Mexico, baby? You’re always saying you could eat carnitas every day, here’s
your chance!
Emily is confused as her husband desperately whisks her away
from his highly anticipated club opening. Sure, not every character should be
as good at deduction as Jessica, but they should still be capable of guessing
obvious things. There’s a balance to this stuff.
At the same time the Renwycks are hurrying home, Charlie
announces that the band is going to take a break. Priscilla tells him that
she’s going to get some air.
The action moves to the Broussard mansion, where the wall
clock ticks loudly. Its pendulum counting down some unknown fate with every
golden swing. Brent Renwyck stands alone in the study, pouring himself a drink
from an endless array of crystal decanters.
Outside, a gloved hand reaches for the handle of the French
doors.
Senator Brent turns and looks at the intruder with surprise.
“What are you doing?” He asks, more puzzled than frightened.
The killer unzips their jacket and pulls out a long needle,
moving ever closer to their victim.
A cry of agony.
The brandy glass falls from his hand and crashes on the
floor, ruining a perfectly good rug.
Later that evening, Jessica and Cynthia are rolling in after
a night of gossip and subpar jazz. They hear Emily shriek, and rush to the
study, where they find her sobbing over Senator Brent’s body. (I know it’s hard
now, Emily, but you’ll feel less badly about his being dead when you talk to
the bank.)
Cynthia rushes to her stepfather’s side to take his pulse
and confirm he’s dead. Emily is also taking his pulse. They’re both checking
all of his veins and nothing is pumping. Brent Renwyck is completely dead.
Beside his head lies a voodoo doll that looks a lot like
him.
Jessica puts on her murder-solving expression.
So! We are over
halfway through this episode before we get to the murder, which is not cool. I
mean, yes, Victim Jim bites it in the first five minutes, but I didn’t notice
anybody working too hard to solve that. Murder,
She Wrote is a mystery series, not a crime series, and I have literally no
questions about what’s going on. Nothing feels mysterious here.
Anyway, Remember Lt. Tibideaux? The only person in this
episode who can legally do something to interfere with criminals and punish
murderers? He’s back to take statements and investigate the death.
Turns out Emily couldn’t handle hearing about their
impending financial problems, so she went upstairs to take a bath. When she
came back down, she found the body.
Tibideaux says that Senator Brent died of a massive heart attack,
and there were no marks on the body except a puncture wound on his left hand.
The splinter from the drawer, Emily suggests.
Cynthia briefly reappears to say that Yvette isn’t anywhere
in the house and there’s no sign of where she might have gone. She then decides
it’s time for Emily to lie down and escorts her mother upstairs.
Now alone with Tibideaux, Jessica lets her claws out a
little bit, and asks if the coroner’s first diagnosis was a heart attack, why
was homicide wasting time with prints and pictures? Was it because of the
voodoo doll?
“You’re real tight with Tom McCray, Mrs. Fletcher,” (in New
Orleans, one beignet date to talk about newspaper clippings and machetes means
you’re engaged) “So you know this wouldn’t be the first time voodoo has taken
the rap for the bad boys.”
Jessica guesses that the cops are probably testing the
brandy snifter for toxic substances, and Tibideaux is all: “Yup! Stop
interfering now, thanks!”
But Jessica is physically unable to stop interfering. As
soon as Tibideaux leaves, she spots something on the carpet. A white flower
petal covered in silver glitter. She should probably take that straight to the
homicide investigators twenty feet away from – oh, she’s putting it in her
pocket.
That is against the law, Jessica.
Behind her, not that we really care, Tom is comforting
Cynthia with kisses. Tom is garbage, Cynthia, all the men this episode are
garbage. Did you know he knew your stepfather had secretly spent all your
mother’s money and he wasn’t going to tell you because he wanted to print the
story first? Garbage.
Jessica makes up a story about leaving her handbag at the
club, and heads back over there to try and get some answers. But… do we really
care who killed Senator Brent? I mean, it was Senator Brent, you know? Who’s
going to miss him in the long run?
Charlie is relaxing with a beer when Jessica arrives. He
already knows about Senator Brent.
“Yvette called,” he says, “hell of an opening night.”
I think you mean “heck of an opening night”, Charlie. And
also, Yvette hasn’t been at the house all night. Cynthia was looking everywhere
for her and the police wanted to speak with her, so how could she have called
to tell you Senator Brent was dead?
Is Charlie hiding something, or is Yvette? And does it
matter?
Not according to Jessica, who blows all of this off and asks
where Priscilla is. Charlie motions to a table in the corner, where Priscilla
is wearing one of those weird sparkly Star
Trek: The Next Generation swathes of fabric. It’s wrapped around her like a
rescue blanket.
Before she can get to the table, Jessica bumps into Creepy Mal
Carter, because getting from any one place to another in this episode is like
doing the American Gladiators course, but instead of giant foam obstacles, you
have to talk to an endless parade of side characters who give you tiny pieces
of string that come from a giant ball of loose ends. Kind of like an RPG.
Creepy Mal is toned down this evening. He’s still wearing
the baggy cream blazer, but he’s lost the Joe Cool sunglasses and the bright
red carnation. This is Mal off the clock. Still creepy, though.
“Poor Emily. She must be broken up.” Creepy Mal mumbles with
all the emotion of an android who just got a Botox treatment.
Jessica is just like: “Do I know you?”
Creepy Mal nods to himself, pulls his sunglasses out of his
pocket – it is 2:00 in the morning, Mal, you look like an idiot – and heads
into the night.
Finally, we’ve made it to Priscilla! Level One: Nightclub is
complete, would you like to continue to Level Two? Jessica selects yes, and
sits down across from Priscilla. The flower crown sits on the table between
them. The petal from the crime scene matches perfectly when Jessica places is
it among the gardenias.
Priscilla’s story is that she followed Emily and Senator Brent
while she was on her break. (The Broussard mansion is within walking distance
of the club, somebody mentioned that in passing earlier.) She wanted to talk to
them about taking half of their money, but when she got to the house, Senator Brent
was already dead.
So much of this doesn’t make sense, but I’m going to jump
ahead with a mini-spoiler and reveal that Priscilla is actually telling the
truth. Despite the fact that Senator Brent had to tell Emily about their money
problem, fight with Emily about their money problem, unwind in the study with a
brandy and get murdered before Priscilla got there, and despite the fact that
Priscilla left less than a minute after the Renwycks (let’s say a five minute
drive and a fifteen minute walk, because the band was on a break and she had to
get back in time to sing), and despite the fact that the killer had to get away
without a trace before Priscilla got there, yes Senator Brent was already dead
when she arrived.
“Which door did you use?” Jessica asks.
Seriously?! That’s what’s bothering you about this?!
The French doors, Priscilla answers. The front door was
locked.
Jessica mentions the voodoo doll, and it turns out it wasn’t
there when Priscilla saw Senator Brent’s body. Which means that somebody was
there between the time Priscilla came upon the victim, and the time Emily found
him and the police were called.
Is the Broussard mansion like a time anomaly where minutes
are hours and hours are minutes?
Anyway, it’s looking like Yvette was there after Priscilla,
meaning that though she left the doll, she didn’t kill Senator Brent. What?!
But all of us were so sure it had nothing to do with all of that foreshadowing
of Senator Brent’s death in the scenes with Roussel!
The best thing to do here, according to Jessica, is for
Priscilla to turn herself in and explain her story.
As for Yvette, Jessica has
an idea of where she might find her:
At the Goula Ruins, doing more voodoo.
This time she’s working a spell on a doll that looks like
Priscilla, with a little flower crown and everything. Jessica comes up behind
her with a lit flashlight, and it’s time for more dialogue that people would
never say.
“The goddess of the wind will tell you Priscilla has gone to
the police,” Jessica says somberly.
“Oya knows Priscilla has done nothing wrong. The goddess
will protect her.”
Just quickly, Oya isn’t a goddess, she’s an orisha.
Jessica brings up the voodoo doll found by Senator Brent’s
body, and it’s time to get some serious déjà vu. Yvette explains that she saw
Priscilla following Senator Brent and Emily, so she followed her. (Wait, there’s
more.) By the time she got to the house, she saw Priscilla running away and an
already-dead Senator Brent on the study floor. Yvette left the doll, not
knowing how Senator Brent had died, so that Priscilla wouldn’t be accused of
anything.
So everybody keeps finding Senator Brent already dead in the
study, but somebody had to have killed him. Who could it be?
Never mind all that,
because it’s time for another scene with Ralph and Vera.
As Vera’s closing up… wait, what is the timeline here? What
kind of curio shop closes after a
nightclub does?
I give up.
Okay, Ralph comes into the shop and tries to kill Vera for
being a liability. Vera clocks him with a wooden idol and makes her escape. It
tries to be atmospheric and tense, but meh.
The next morning, Tibideaux comes to arrest Yvette despite
having no evidence against her, except a creepy doll she owned being in the
house she lives in, and a statement from Priscilla about the pending lawsuit
against Emily because of the paternity thing.
Priscilla is devastated as the police take her mother away,
shouting after them that she only mentioned that stuff in the interest of
cooperating with law enforcement.
Yvette looks stoic and resigned.
A lot of stuff is about to get crammed into not a lot of
time to finish off this episode, so get ready.
First, Vera heads home with a bag of groceries to find Ralph
lurking around her apartment.
Thankfully he doesn’t see her, but it scares her
enough for her to call Jessica.
Jessica meets her at the Café Du Monde, so I guess she
wanted to roll the dice on some more soggy beignets. Vera reveals that Roussel
has someone in the police department, and that would have been useful
information at the beginning of the episode to help the audience understand why
none of these characters were going to the police.
Tom arrives, as Jessica has decided he’s the perfect person
to air all of Roussel’s dirty laundry. He’ll probably be killed, but nobody
likes Tom except Cynthia.
There’s some new information about tracking down the last
person to call Victim Jim (are we seriously trying to get justice for Victim
Jim? He was killed by the mob. There’s not going to be justice there). Turns
out it was what Tom calls a “lady dentist”, meaning a dentist who only treats
women, one could suppose. Other anomalous outgoing calls from that number were
made to Frank Roussel’s limousine. Jessica and Vera quickly deduce that the
dentist’s number was cloned onto Ralph’s cell phone.
Ralph killed Victim Jim! What a twist!
In other news, the autopsy on Senator Brent revealed no
toxic substances, so it’s back to being a heart attack, and they’ve released
Yvette.
Why did they even take Yvette in? We’re cramming so much
into this ending, it would’ve been nice to have some breathing room.
Time for a “That’s it!” clue.
Jessica notes that Senator Brent borrowed money from Roussel
and Emily and couldn’t pay either of them back.
“Sounds to me like Mr. Renwyck’s right hand didn’t know what
his left hand was doing.” Vera says.
Right hand, left hand! Vera, that’s it!
But before we can go deal with that, there’s a quick phone
call conversation with Tibideaux where he insists that the case is closed, and
also informs us that the body was not screened for Anacycla Lupus, and there
was a splinter in one hand but also the weird puncture mark on the other. Two separate
punctures. But the case is definitely closed, because natural heart attacks
can’t lower your conviction rate or raise your crime rate, so let it go, Jess.
Be cool.
A quick stopover at the Broussard mansion, where Jessica
finds a souvenir menu from the club opening, with a drawing of a pimped out
horseshoe in the middle. She compares it to a detail in the old picnic photo,
and it seems to satisfy a hunch of hers.
She tells Emily that she’s going to go see a man about a
horseshoe ring, and an oddly shaped pin, and she really hopes it doesn’t turn
out it’s the same man.
Emily just wanders off with her glass of bourbon. Go on,
Emily. Take your time.
Yvette watches Jessica leave the house. She seems
apprehensive. She’s seemed apprehensive for like 90% of this episode though, so
after a certain point you kind of have to stop taking note of it.
To the club!
Let’s deal with the first, most important mystery that
everybody is dying to know the answer to: Is Priscilla Arthur Broussard’s
daughter?
She is not.
Turns out the family chauffeur in that old photo of the
Sunday picnic? That was Charlie. Wearing his horseshoe ring, just as he wears
it now. He wrote the anonymous letter, and he convinced Yvette to lie about an
affair with Arthur Broussard.
Arthur paid for Julliard because he believed in Priscilla’s
talent. (Just go with it.)
Yvette shows up to confirm all of this, and to express her
deep regret at participating in the scheme. She wanted Priscilla to have
everything, and she didn’t realize how much pain it would all cause.
Neither Yvette nor Charlie killed Senator Brent.
So who did?
The man strolling out of the back room with Roussel. Creepy Mal
Carter.
None of us guessed that!
See, on the night of the murder, Creepy Mal didn’t take his
carnation off to look more casual. He took it off so he could kill Brent with
his crazy eyedropper pin, because it’s always full of Anacycla Lupus. Funnily
enough, it’s full of Anacycla Lupus right now, and in a mad frenzy at being
caught, Mal lunges forward to stab Jessica, but is stopped just in time by the
New Orleans Police Department. Turns out, Ralph Danton turned snitch and told
the cops all about who orchestrated the machete murders. He also confessed to
being Creepy Mal’s Anacycla Lupus connection. Creepy Mal and Roussel are under
arrest for a number of things, not least among them the attempted murder of
J.B. Fletcher.
Almost done!
With everyone at the Broussard house gathered around to say
goodbye to Jessica, Emily gets a phone call from her lawyer. He tells her that
the contract Senator Brent signed with Creepy Mal is null and void because
Emily was legally joint owner of the club, and she never gave Brent her power
of attorney.
The nightclub is hers and everything is back to normal!
And that’s that!
Phew! Next time we watch a Murder, She Wrote, remind me to pick one of the good ones!
No comments:
Post a Comment