Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

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