Helen Chapel attends to a customer.
Helen: How was your meal?
Man: Uh, let’s just hope your coffee is better than your cooking. Give me a cup of decaf to go.
Helen: Only if you go with it. Ha!
Man: Hey, hey, hey! Are you sure that’s decaf?
Helen: Yes, I’m sure.
Man: You’re positive? You’re absolutely sure?
Helen: I’m—what do you want me to do take a polygraph?
Man: Well, you better be right, ‘cause I don’t wanna be up all night.
Helen: Look, pal, I wouldn’t wanna disturb your beauty sleep. You need all you can get.
Man: Hey, look, you…
Helen: Oh, look, you. Here’s my telephone number. If your eyes pop open at 3:00 A.M., you can call and wake me up.
Man: Hmm, don’t think I won’t, girlie.
The man leaves. Helen walks over to Joe who is also sitting at the counter.
Joe: Oh, man, do you believe that jerk? I’ll have a little more of that decaf.
Helen: Oh, this isn’t decaf.
Joe: But you gave that guy your number.
Helen: Oh, get real. That was Roy’s number.
The following day, Roy is at the lunch counter.
Roy: Oh, Helen, keep that coffee comin’. The stronger. The better.
Helen: Roy, you’ll float away.
Roy: Oh, I’ve gotta wake up.
Roy turns to Fay who is sitting beside him.
Roy: Some nut called me at 3:00 A.M. I couldn’t get back to sleep.
Helen: Some people can be just so darn inconsiderate.
Lowell: I was just wondering, would any of you people like to buy twelve dozen frying pans?
Helen: Uh, Lowell, why are you selling frying pans?
Lowell: Well, it’s kinda a funny story. Bunny wanted to make some extra money so she hit up on the idea of selling cookware door-to-door.
Fay: Has she sold any?
Lowell: Not a one. She had them bought and paid for, and realized she’s totally incapable of talking to strangers. It’s the darnedest thing. She walks up to the door, rings the bell and then, when the person answers, she freezes up, eyes roll back in her head, and she passes out. Any idea how I can, uh, unload these skillets?
Roy: Oh, Lowell, why don’t you take ‘em down to that swap meet? Those yo-yos will buy anything.
Lowell: Good idea, Roy! That’s where she got ‘em in the first place.
Lowell leaves in a hurry.
Lowell: He couldn’t sell sunscreen to a naked albino.
Joe calls Brian from his office. Brian is on the phone at the Sandpiper Air counter.
Joe: Hey, Brian—
Joe steps out of his office.
Brian: Jessica Han’s almost finished with her confession. Think it’s worth another two bucks to here about her first time? Nah!
Brian hangs up.
Joe: Listen, I just got off the phone with the exterminators. They’re gonna have to do a major fumigation. They recommended we move out of the house for a couple of days.
Brian: Oh, wow. I guess the roach problem is getting; a little out of hand. Last night, I found a couple of ‘em throwing gas-soaked rags into the roach motel.
Joe: I didn’t have a roach problem until you moved in.
Brian: Well, what can I tell you? Animals love me.
Joe walks over to Helen as Brian follows.
Joe: Hey, uh, Helen.
Joe: The fumigators are gonna have to zap our house after all. Can I stay with you for a couple of days?
Brian: Good, I’ll bring my stuff over later.
Joe: What are you talkin’ about?
Brian: Well, I’m gonna need a place to stay, too, right? I mean, come on, it’ll be great. We’ll have a pajama party.
Joe: No way.
Helen: No, no, no, no, no.
Brian: Yes! We’ll dress up in short nighties, we’ll spin some 45s, curl each other’s hair.
Helen: Biran, just the thought of you in a nightie is enough to curl my hair.
Brian: Is it somethin’ you do a lot? You think of me in my scanties?
Joe: Brian, you’re gonna have to make your own arrangements, pal.
Brian and Helen walk away. Lowell walks over to Brian.
Lowell: Brian, old buddy, be happy to have you stay with us on the boat.
Brian: Oh, well, thanks a lot, Lowell. Thanks.
Lowell: Except my wife hates you.
Brian: Bunny hates me?
Lowell: Well, she thinks you shot her brother in the leg.
Brian: Why would she think that?
Lowell: Well, I couldn’t very well tell her that I did it, could I?
Brian: Oh, Lowell.
Lowell: Well, it was an accident. You’d be amazed how much that man looks like an elk.
Lowell walks away. Fay calls Brian.
Fay: Uh, Brian! You could stay with me.
Brian: Oh, that’s sweet, Fay, but I—I wouldn’t want to impose.
Fay: Oh, no, I’d—I’d rather enjoy it. I mean, it’s not all that satisfying playing scrabble by myself. I mean, the words I let myself get away with…
Brian: Well, no, thanks—thanks a lot, Fay. I’ll think about it, ok?
Fay walks away.
Joe: Brian, what’s the matter? It’s a great offer.
Brian: Uh, I don’t wanna stay over at Fay’s house. It smells like dried flowers and cream of wheat. She’s got one of those furry covers for her toilet seat, keeps falling down when you least expect it. It’s like a guillotine.
Roy: Hackett, I’m gonna give you a break. For a couple of bucks, you can stay at my place.
Brian: Roy, I’m tryin’ to get out of a place that’s filled with disgusting creatures and poison gas.
Roy picks his teeth with a toothpick.
Roy: So, what’s your answer?
Brian: Oh, Fay!
Later that night, Brian is sitting at Fay’s kitchen watching television when she walks in.
Brian: I hope you don’t mind me having dessert in here, but I didn’t wanna miss my program “Fugitives from Justice”.
Fay: Oh, that’s fine, Brian.
Brian: And, Fay, by the way, this pie is incredible. You gotta get out the recipe.
Fay: Uh, do you want me to write it down for you?
Brian: No, I want you to bake another one.
Fay turns around to take the jar of flour.
Brian: Fay, Fay, I was only kidding. It can wait…
Brian: Until tomorrow.
Fay returns the flour jar.
Brian: You know, Fay, mmm, these last few days have been great. You’ve taken such good care of me.
Fay: Well I—it’s been fun for me, too. You know, it brings back a lot of fond memories. Well, before I was married, I used to take in boarders.
Fay: Oh, it was nice to have a man around the house. Someone to cook for, clean for…
Brian: And iron for.
Fay: I know, light starch in the collar and the body soft.
Brian: Ah, and you just about have it right.
Fay gets up, and makes her way out the kitchen.
Brian: Oh, oh, Fay, “Fugitives from Justice” is just about to start. Why don’tyou sit down and make yourself at home?
Fay: No, Brian, I find those shows very disturbing.
Brian: Heh, that’s why I like ‘em.
“Fugitives from Justice” begins.
Man on TV: 1958, Atlanta. Dale Hammond dies from eating peas laced with Strychnine. 2 years later in St. Louis, Frank Doucette expires and the cause of death, tainted meringue.
Brian snickers as he sips his cocoa.
Man on TV: The following year in Denver, Clark Small is found bludgeoned to death. The murder weapon, a frozen leg of lamb. What do all of these victims have in common? They were all boarders in the home of one Florence Chambers, A.K.A. the culinary killer.
Man on TV: As she moved across the country, Chambers is thought to have left the bodies of 15 young men in her wake. Hello, everyone, I’m Maury Povich, and join us for another edition of fugitives from justice.
Fay enters the kitchen.
Brian: Hey, Fay, you should sit down. This is gonna be a good one.
Fay: Oh, no thanks, Brian. I think I’m gonna strip the beds and change the linens.
Brian: Oh, that’s a hard job, Fay. Let me help you.
Fay: Oh, I don’t want you to miss your program.
Brian: Ok, thanks.
Brian resumes watching the television.
Maury: Florence Chambers was last seen in Dallas, Texas, in 1965. We took the last known picture of this fiendish food poisoner, and computer-aged it to approximate what she would look like today.
Brian sips his cocoa. “Fugitives from Justice” shows a young Florence Chamber who after aged looks a lot like Fay Cochran. Brian is in shock.
Maury: If you have any information.
Maury: As to the whereabouts of--
Brian turns off the television.
Fay peeps in the kitchen.
Fay: Uh, Brian, do you want some more cocoa?
Brian shakes his head.
Fay: Well, ok. You let me know if you do.
Brian spits out the cocoa.
The next day, Lowell enters the terminal.
Lowell: Roy, I’ve got a product that’s gonna change your life, and I’m in a wheelin’, dealin’ mood.
Roy: Lowell, I am not buying one of those damn skillets.
Lowell: Oh, I’m not sellin’ skillets, Roy. I’m sellin’ dreams. I took your advice. I went down to the swap meet, and I traded those skillets in for somethin’ even better. I am the sole East Coast Distributor of a honey of a product. It’s more than a barbecue. It’s more than a car. It’s a car-b-cue. You stick your food in the car-b-cue, put it on your car engine, close the hood, and as you drive, your car becomes the little engine that cooks.
Roy: Oh, brother.
Lowell: No, no, Roy. I’ve seen the future, and it’s well-done. It’s perfect for you, the busy executive. You work late at night. Pop a few knackwurst in the car-b-cue, and before you get into the garage, it’s “pass the grey poupon”.
Roy: I don’t believe this.
Lowell: No, it’s even great for weekend trips, Roy. Remember when running over a possum was a tragedy? Now, it’s a party.
Roy: Lowell, this is the stupidest, most ridiculous…does it do ribs?
Lowell: Like a Tennessee smokehouse. Now, how many do you want?
Roy: Uh, one for me.
Lowell: One for Chef Roy.
Roy: And my parents’ anniversary is coming up, so make it two.
Lowell: Another for Ma and Pa Biggins.
Roy and Lowell leave the terminal then Brian arrives.
Brian: Hi, everybody.
Joe: Hey, Brian.
Helen: Hi, Brian.
Brian: Hi, hi, hi.
Brian chuckles then walks away while keeping a close eye on Fay.
Joe looks at him. Brian gestures that they go to his office. Helen gestures if that’s what he meant. He signals that they go, and he runs to the Sandpiper Air office. Joe and Helen follow Brian.
Brian: Guys, guys, somethin’ happened last night and I really have to—
A guy who misread his signals follows them.
Brian: Who are you?
Guy: Carl Torley from Providence. I came here to see my brother.
Brian: Well, do you see him in here, Carl?
Carl: Well, you—you were, you know…
Carl imitates Brian’s gesturing.
Carl: I thought you meant me.
Brian: No, I didn’t. Give my best to your brother.
Brian slightly pushes Carl out the door.
Carl: You know my brother?
Brian: No, no, no, no.
Helen: Ok, come on, Brian. I gotta get back to work. What is it?
Brian: Ok, ok, all right. Now, listen. Do you know the program “Fugitives from Justice”?
Brian: Well, Fay was on it last night, and she is wanted for murder.
Joe and Helen are silent.
Helen: See you later.
Helen tries to make her way to the door.
Brian: Oh, no, no, come on, now. Now, hear me out.
Joe: You know, Brian, this is really pretty stupid, even for you.
Brian: Yes, now, look, sto—I know it sounds crazy. But last night, they were doing a story about this woman who traveled from city to city, you know, Denver, Atlanta, Dallas, St. Louis taking in boarders and killing them. And get this, just last night, Fay said to me that she used to take in boarders all the time.
Joe: Brian, that doesn’t prove anything.
Brian: W-wait, wait. I didn’t tell you the most chilling part. They showed a computer-aged photograph of what this woman would look like today, and, and…
Brian buries his face in his hands.
Brian: And without a doubt, it was Fay!
Helen: Brian, you gotta get a grip of yourself. We’re talking about Fay, our Fay.
Brian: I know, I know. It sounds crazy, but—but, just listen to me. How much do we really know about her? I mean, we know that she was married, but where are her husbands now? I’ll tell you where. Dead, buried, the harp farm.
Joe: Brian, I am sure you saw a picture that in some small way resembled Fay.
Brian shakes his head.
Joe: But I’m also sure that there is no way the woman on that program was her.
Helen: No, of course not. Fay is the sweetest, kindest woman I’ve ever met in my life.
Brian: Boy, that’s how every homicidal maniac’s neighbor describes them. “He was the sweetest, kindest, gentlest man I have ever met. Was very quiet. Always said hello. Helped me build a dog pen.” You know, just—just—just once, I would love to hear someone say, “He was a raving lunatic. I feared for my life. I was just waitin’ for the chain saw to come rippin’ through the wall!”
Joe: No more sugar for you, Mister.
Brian: Ok. Ok, ok, fine, fine. I didn’t see it. Don’t believe me. It didn’t happen anyhow. It wasn’t Fay. It was a figment of my imagination, but when the bloated corpses start piling up on Main Street like cords of wood, let it be on your heads.
Joe: I can live with that. Helen?
Helen: I rarely go into town.
At the Tom Nevers Field airport, Roy arrives at the terminal smelling food inside a zipper plastic bag.
Lowell: Roy, where have you been? I’ve been lookin’ all over for you.
Roy: I had to drive around the airport a few times. The chicken wasn’t quite done yet.
Roy looks at the cooked chicken he has inside a plastic bag. He hands a drumstick to Lowell.
Roy: Try this. It’s positively succulent.
Lowell: Mmm, Boy, that’s car-b-cued chicken if I ever tasted it.
Roy: Mmm. Lowell, thanks for turning me on to this. I think I’m gonna do a little cooking this weekend. I’m gonna drive down to Virginia, that’s about a day’s drive, and I’ve always wanted to make Peking duck.
Lowell: Bon Appetit, and drive safely, Roy.
Brian arrives at the terminal. Though terrified, he sums up the courage to sit beside Fay who is at the lunch counter.
Brian: Hey! How about a cup of coffee, Helen?
Brian: So, how’s tomorrow’s flight to New Bedford shapin’ up?
Fay: Um, I guess, we’re about half-full. Probably pick up some walk-ins in the morning.
Brian: Good, good, good. Hey, Fay, I’ve been thinking about taking a little vacation later on this year, and I was wondering if you could help me out.
Helen hands Brian a spoon.
Brian: Uh, thank you.
Brian turns to Fay.
Brian: Have you ever been to, uh, Denver, Atlanta, Dallas, and…
Brian peeks at the list he is keeping in his pocket.
Brian: St. Louis?
Fay: Uh, well, I did live in Atlanta and St. Louis.
Brian: Oh, but not Denver or Dallas?
Fay: No. Oh, although I did fly there when I was a stewardess.
Brian: Aha! I mean, uh, oh.
Brian turns to Helen and Joe.
Brian: Hey, hey, hey, hey. Who can help me settle a bar bet here? Um, how do you spell Strychnine?
Brian: Not you, you idiot.
Fay: Uh, let’s see, Strychnine.
Fay: S-T-R-Y-C-H-N-I-N-E. Stychnine. I was always a good speller in school.
Brian: Why, Fay, you’re good at a lot of things. You’re—you’re a good speller. You’re a good, uh, worker. Good wife. Boy, it’s really a shame about your husbands, them dyin’ like that. Now, how—how did they die? I forget. I…I remember he first one.
Joe buries his head in his hand.
Brian: Was hit by a truck, and the third one dropped dead in his chair which happens, but what happened to number two again?
Fay: You certainly seem to have developed a morbid curiosity all of a sudden.
Brian: Just tryin’ to have a pleasant conversation is all. That’s all.
Fay: Oh, uh, if you ask me, the trouble is you’re watching those creepy televisions shows. I mean, why—why don’t you watch something cheery, like, um, uh, Regis and Kathie Lee?
Fay: That Regis is such a rascal.
Fay leaves laughing. Brian turns to Joe and Helen.
Brian: You guys need any more proof than that, hmm?
Joe: No, not for me. I think we can call the State Mental Hospital and have you strapped down and sedated by this evening.
Brian: Okay. You guys need more proof? Fine. I made a little visit over to the home of Florence Chambers A.K.A. Fay Cochran.
Brian pulls out a bottle from his pocket.
Joe: What’s this?
Brian: Exhibit A, found in her potting shed, Strychnine.
Joe: Brian, she probably uses it to kill rats.
Brian: Yeah, I suppose to the blind and naïve, it would appear so.
Helen: Oh, come on, Brian.
Brian: Listen, listen, listen, she didn’t just poison her victims, either. She even bludgeoned one poor schlub with a frozen leg of lamb, and what do you suppose Fay has in the top shelf of her freezer?
Helen: Pudding pops?
Brian: Well, not anymore, but follow along. A leg of lamb. Brian, for Pete’s sake…
Helen: No, Joe, let’s for a second assume that Brian is right.
Brian: Thank you, Helen.
Helen: You’ve just made a fatal mistake.
Brian: W-why? What do you mean?
Helen: Oh, Brian, you’ve tipped your hand. She’s onto you. You’re over there asking her all those questions. I mean, here she is after all these years, she’s finally got her life together. Now, she knows you’re gonna rat on her.
Joe: And you know what she does for rats.
Brian: You guys are tryin’ to spook me. I won’t be spooked.
Brian is startled.
Helen: Um, since you’re moving back into your house tomorrow, why don’t I make a special farewell dinner tonight?
Fay: Well, and—and I have just the thing I’ve been saving for a special occasion like this. A nice leg of lamb.
Brian: Sounds a little dangerous.
Brian: Delicious. Sounds a little delicious.
Fay: A little delicious? It’s to die for.
Helen, and Joe accompany Brian at Fay’s house.
Fay: Uh, Helen, over here. Joe, you sit over there. And, Brian, since you’re the guest of honor, I want you to sit right here. Uh, now, if you’re all comfortable, I’ll go get the salad.
Helen: Now, Fay, I hope that Joe and I aren’t an inconvenience. I thought Brian had asked you.
Fay: Oh, no, not at all.
Brian: Well, I hope this doesn’t upset any plans you had for the evening, hmm?
Fay: Well, it did throw me for a minute, but, you know, I can be pretty resourceful when I have to be.
Fay goes to the kitchen.
Brian: Joe. Joe, change seats with me.
Joe: What for?
Brian: Because she put me here for a reason, and if she wants me here, then I’m gonna be there.
Joe and Brian exchange seats.
Joe: It’s a great plan, Brian. She’ll never find you way over there.
Brian smells the glass of water. Fay enters the dining room.
Helen: Oh, Fay, this looks great. Thank you.
Helen takes a plate of salad.
Joe: Yeah, killer salad.
Brian kicks Joe. Fay walks over to Brian bringing with her their plates of salad.
Fay: Um…uh…oh, there’s been a change. I almost gave you Brian’s salad.
Fay switches plates.
Brian: Wait, they’re, they’re not all alike?
Fay: Well, I know you like extra carrots. So, uh, go ahead and dig in. I’ll be back in a minute.
Fay goes back to the kitchen. Brian turns to Joe.
Brian: Give me that.
Brian takes Joe’s salad.
Joe: Brian, don’t do that!
Helen: Oh, you know what? If Fay’s who think she is, she knew you were gonna do that.
Brian: Oh, my God, you’re right. Here.
Brian switches the salads again.
Brian: And change seats with me.
Joe: We just…
Brian: Just—just…oh. Ok.
Joe and Brian exchange seats again.
Brian: Oh, she probably knew that, too. Oh, God, she’s good. Here, sit down. Hurry, hurry, hurry.
Brian exchange seats once again.
Helen has a huge grin in her face.
Brian: Give me your salad.
Helen hands Brian her salad.
Brian: You agreed to that awfully quickly. Why do you want me to have your salad?
Helen: ‘cause you asked me for it.
Brian: Oh, yeah? You think I’m gonna fall for that? Forget it.
Brian returns Helen’s salad. Helen tries hard not to laugh.
Joe: I—I—I lost track. Who’s got the poison?
Joe: Oh, well.
Joe turns to Brian.
Joe: See you in hell.
Joe eats his salad.
Joe: It’s delicious.
Joe’s eyes rolls back, and he begins to shake.
Brian: That’s great. Hilarious. Hilarious.
Fay returns to the dining room.
Fay: Um, I have a confession to make.
Brian: Oh, really?
Fay: Well, I—I know I promised you a leg of lamb, but there wasn’t time to thaw it out.
Brian: So, in other words it’s still loaded—I mean, frozen.
Fay: Yeah, but, thank goodness Lowell sold me one of those car-b-cues. So, I roasted a chicken on the way home.
Fay laughs and returns to the kitchen.
Brian: I’m a dead man. I’m a dead man. I’m sitting here talking to you now, but I’m a dead man.
Helen: Oh, well, in that case, would you mind settling up your lunch bill? You owe me about ninety bucks.
Brian: Have Joe take it out of my estate.
Joe: Brian, eighty Hawiian shirts and a skateboard do not constitute an estate.
Fay peeks in the dining room through the kitchen door.
Fay: Brian, could I see you in the kitchen for a moment?
Brian: And there it is, and I’m out of here.
Brian tries to leave. Joe grabs his arm to stop him.
Brian: No, look. C-come with me. Come with me.
Joe: No, Brian. Do you really think she’s gonna kill you with us sitting right out here?
Brian: She’s just crazy enough to try it.
Fay calls for Brian from the kitchen.
Brian makes his way to the kitchen.
Brian: It’s scary to think that we live in a country where anybody can just walk up to a counter and purchase meat.
Brian enters the kitchen.
Fay: Oh, uh, uh, Brian, my garbage disposal isn’t working. Could you please, uh, reach in there, and push the reset button for me?
Fay: Because it isn’t working. I—it’s hard for me to get under there.
Brian: Yeah. Where are you gonna be?
Fay: Right here.
Fay: Come on.
Fay: Go on.
Fay: Go on.
Brian kneels down.
Fay: That’s it.
Brian chuckles as he lies down under the sink.
Fay: Gee, now that I have a taste for it, I think I’ll just go ahead and defrost that leg of lamb for tomorrow.
Fay opens the freezer, takes the leg of lamb. Brian sees her holding the lamb, and imagines her to be Florence Chambers about to hit him with the frozen lamb. Brian screams. He tries to stand up, but he hits his head on the sink. Joe runs to the kitchen.
Fay: Oh, my God! Brian!
Joe sees Brian lying on the floor. He runs towards him inadvertently startling Fay. Fay sways the leg of lamb, and accidentally hits Joe in the head. Joe falls on the floor unconscious. Helen runs to the kitchen. She sees Joe on the floor. Helen gasps.
Helen: Oh, my God!
She sees Brian also lying on the floor unconscious. She turns to Fay who is holding the frozen leg of lamb, and looks like she has lost her mind. Helen screams in fear. Fay screams as well.
The following night, Fay and Brian sit together at the airport’s lunch counter watching television. Joe and Helen are also there watching “Fugitives from Justice”.
Maury: We have an update on last week’s story. Thanks to the diligent efforts of our viewers, Florence Chambers A.K.A. The Culinary Killer, has been apprehended. The F.B.I. received tips from as far as West as Reno, and as far East as Nantucket.
The three look at Brian.
Brian: It was a toll-free number.
Maury: Chambers was finally located in Chicago, Illinois, cooking in the rectory of St. Finbarr’s Parish.
The Fugitives from Justice shows a clip of the police arresting Florence Chambers.
Maury: The pastor, Father Henley, described Chambers as, “A sweet, caring woman who always had a cheery hello for everyone.”
The show focuses in Florence Chamber as she sits inside the back of the police car.
Fay: You know, I still can’t believe that you thought I could do something like that.
Brian: I said I was sorry.
Joe: You know, Fay, in Brian’s defense, that really did look a lot like you.
Fay: You know, if I was gonna kill you I would never poison you. I would just tamper with the fuel gauge on the plane, and let you sink like a stone somewhere over Nantucket Sound.
Fay: I’m only kidding, but I do know how.
Fay gives Brian a dubious stare.
This is not the actual script. This is my own transcription of the episode. The “Murder, She Roast” episode was written by Dave Hackel. Wings is owned by CBS Studios Inc., Paramount Pictures and Grub Street Productions.
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