Hart to Hart: Old Friends Never Die Page #5

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That doesn't make any sense.

Facts always make sense,

Mrs. Hart.

One has to know how to put

them in the proper order.

Are you absolutely sure of that?

Whoo knows.

Whew...

...'s on first.

- What?

- Second base.

Oh, Jonathan.

Do you get the feeling someone

is trying to play games with us?

I do.

But why?

Whoo knows? Whoo.

Well, I don't believe

any of this.

If that man committed suicide,

I'm the real Oliver Hardy.

I think it's time we packed up

and got out of this place.

Maybe we can catch a ride back

to Honolulu with Detective Whoo.

Good idea.

Jonathan.

I was hoping to catch up

to the two of you.

Can you spare me

a couple of minutes?

Just the two of us, I'm sorry.

For old time's sake?

I'll go pack.

Thanks, Jennifer. Bye.

I won't keep him long,

I promise.

Well, this has not exactly

been a class reunion.

No pun intended.

It's been interesting.

Just like old times,

I step knee-deep into it

and you're trying to pull me

out by the ears.

Let me own this one, Jonathan.

I played the patsy for someone who

was clearly trying to set you up,

- and I'm sorry.

- Oh, you don't have to apologize.

You had no idea

you were being used.

Well, I want to apologize.

I'm hoping that...

After all this blows over,

under different circumstances,

maybe we could...

Ah, I'd look forward to it.

In the meantime, you might actually

write that great American novel

you always dreamed about.

I stopped dreaming

a long time ago.

- It's been finished for quite a while.

- Really?

Just haven't had the guts

to show it to anyone.

Afraid it might not be everything

I planned for it to be.

And yet I can't face the idea of being

Stacey Rodgers for the rest of my life.

If you don't take the risks...

I know. I know.

Nothing ventured...

Well...

Can't leave it in my closet forever,

even the moths are getting bored.

Well, if you ever want someone

to look at it,

let me know.

You'll be the first.

I mean that.

You've been a good friend,

Jonathan.

Take care of yourself.

It's been good to see you.

I know he apologized profusely.

But I still don't trust

dear old Frank.

It all started with him.

Maybe he's telling the truth.

He could be a patsy

for someone else.

Hello?

Oh, no. What, packing already?

No, the guests are supposed to

leave tomorrow morning at 11:00.

- Al...

- I know.

Poor Harold Simpson's suicide

has sort of put a damper

on the party atmosphere,

hasn't it?

Death tends to do that.

We hate to spoil your weekend,

but, uh...

After all that's happened, I think

it's time that we say our goodbyes.

This party for me

has been a disaster.

I'm mortified. I'm sorry.

Now let me check with the police

about taking you back, huh?

Al.

How well did

you know Harold Simpson?

Hardly at all, really.

I invited him because he wrote one

foreign piece that I published.

He was trying to

get into mysteries.

You know,

he was a big fan of Frank's.

Followed all his work. He used

to write to Frank all the time.

You mean they knew each other?

I don't know if they

actually knew each other,

I think it was

mostly through the mail.

But Simpson told me that he used to

write Frank fan letters all the time.

Curiouser and curiouser.

Do you think

he committed suicide?

You don't?

I keep asking myself

this one question.

If he shot himself,

then who pushed the button in

the elevator to send him up?

Jonathan, you should have been

a mystery writer yourself.

Now, would you please

tell that to Detective Whoo.

Maybe he can do

a little more digging here.

Meanwhile, I'll send

someone up for your bags.

Oh, and Jennifer,

please do not forget my offer.

I still intend to make you

part of my team.

Hmm.

Mr. and Mrs. Hart,

wait please.

I was asked to give

you this note before you left.

Thank you.

Who's that from?

Frank.

Jon, I think I figured

this whole thing out.

Meet me at the old shack

as soon as you can.

It's important.

- I'm gonna check this out.

- Oh, I don't trust that.

Ten minutes, tops.

I'll be fine.

Frank!

Hey, Frank!

Frank?

I'm sorry, Mrs. Hart, but we have

a very strict schedule to keep.

Oh, but Detective I'm sure he'll

be here in just a minute.

The fact is, Mrs. Hart, we're

only 30 minutes away by air

and if you need us,

just call us.

And ask for Whoo?

Absolutely.

Oh, no, no, no.

No, take it...

I'm sorry, you'll have to take

those bags back.

Oh, would you take this

with you up to the room?

- Yes, ma'am.

- Sorry.

Hello?

Jonathan?

Help! Help!

Somebody help! Help!

Help!

Help!

Hart! What's going on?

What the hell happened here?

I wish I knew.

Let's get out of here.

- Come on.

- I gotta get out.

Jonathan!

Jonathan, I've been

looking all over for you.

Oh, my God!

What happened?

Well, it seems that

someone wanted me

to take an unscheduled swim.

If it hadn't been for Eric here,

I'd have been in real trouble.

No problem, Jonathan.

Looks like the two of you

could use a hot bath.

Would help get some of the

sand out of my teeth.

Do you mind, if we just sit

here and relax a while?

Till I figure out

what's going on.

Hello?

Jon?

Jennifer?

- Does it hurt?

- Huh.

It'd feel a lot better

if I knew who hit me.

I think we should

call Detective Whoo.

He said he could be

here in half an hour.

What do you think?

Who?

Darling, why don't we

just call the police?

- I'll give you two good reasons.

- All right.

One is, if we leave now

we'll never find out who's

at the bottom of this.

And two?

And two is...

Darling, I don't actually think

that my life is in danger.

Oh, Jonathan.

You can't be serious.

What would have happened

if I didn't know

about the fire on the boat?

And what would have

happened if Eric

hadn't just come

along at that moment.

But that's just the point.

You see, you did know about

the fire on the boat.

And Eric did come along

just at the right time.

No, no. I think we

were just very lucky.

Sit down.

I found this

in the shack, looking for Frank.

It was hanging from its neck.

You think someone's trying

to tell me something?

Great.

Why don't we go home and

they can fax it to you?

What makes you think that all

this would stop if we went home?

What are you saying?

If I'm right

and this is all somehow connected

to the stock purchases,

then what's going on here

is going on at home.

And it all started

before we got here.

Damn it!

- What?

- Oh...

I keep thinking about

the suicide note.

I keep reaching back

trying to grab it.

Because there was

something in that phrase

about all the men

being "on the board."

It's all a game.

Don't you see, darling?

You overhearing Frank,

Simpson being in my costume,

Eric being on the beach

at just the right time.

Simpson didn't commit suicide.

He was murdered.

By someone who wanted to prove a point.

That I'm a target.

An easy target. Huh?

He was a sacrifice for the game.

A pawn?

Yeah.

In an elaborate game of chess.

And it all keeps

coming back to Frank.

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