Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

When it didn't arrive after a few weeks, I figured it was lost. I gave it up.
-Well, I'm sorry anyway. -You want to tell me how it happened?
-We'll never make it to this funeral. -Mr. Addison isn't in yet.
An idea, an original thought. You've heard of them.
But I go on writing, and she goes on writing.
Why do you come in every day?
...you still got your apartheid, down there in South Africa.
Like he took a bath once in a while.
My will. This place is making me suicidal.
Miss DiPesto, what is it?
What's the scheme, team? Fire drill?
...just as he was on his way out the door to his wife's funeral.
I checked the coffee table, no sign of it there.
...and giggle about the damn thing all night long.
Message number one, stop writing her.
You'll buzz me when Mr. Addison arrives?
-So, what are you saying? -I'm saying maybe he didn't kill Gail...
-I don't know, how long? -How many days?
It doesn't matter what I think.
Take the majority of your murder-suicides...
So...
It could be anyone.
I stitched a K on his shirt so everybody would know he's a knucklehead.
Can you blame her? Those envelopes limit the possibilities.
-What are you doing? -Wait a second.
-No! -No, you do.
Things were getting a little dull back at the ranch.
It means, this is the '80s, Maddie...
...all the way across town to kill Gail Woodley.
...and I would never do anything to harm him. Never.
Yes? Mr. Addison? Put him on.
I called the police, the hospitals, every temp agency in town.
You frighten her.