THE OTHER WRITER OF CABOT COVE

by

gm

Epilog for two stories on Murder She Wrote

With the characters of Drew Garrison (played by David McCallum ) in the episode "Deadly Misunderstanding” and Charles Winthrop (Robert Vaughn) from the episode "The Witch's Curse"

Pulling his convertible MG up to the park, Drew Garrison slowly got out and walked to a nearby bench. Spring in Cabot Cove was nearly ended. The warm afternoon sun felt good after the chilling winter. With a sigh he sat, watching the boats in the harbor, allowing his mind to drift away to pleasant thoughts of the future. Much better than the alarming and disturbing memories of the past.

A man, walking with the aid of a cane, shuffled by. Drew recognized him as one of the prominent and wealthy citizens of the small Maine hamlet. Wheeling up behind the older man came an even more famous and prominent resident of the quiet New England village.

"Hello, Drew! Morning, Charles." Jessica Fletcher smiled and waved at the men as she sailed by on her bicycle. "Lovely day, isn't it?"

"Great," Garrison sighed sarcastically.

The older man, with distinguished bearing, gave a wry nod. "Obviously you know Mrs. Fletcher."

"Doesn't everybody?"

"Yes. Unfortunately, sometimes.”

"You're Winthrop."

"Yes. And you're the writing teacher."

"Drew Garrison." He gestured at the bench. Please, have a seat.”

They shook hands. Morbidly curious and eager to satisfy his own irritation at being wedged into the exact, uncomfortable situation as Winthrop, the professor studied the dignified gentleman who was slightly older and taller than he was. Greying along the hairline lent a classical look to what could be termed an aloof demeanor. The deportment could almost be mistake for snobbish or condescending, but Garrison was a shrew and trained observer of human nature. His practiced writer's eye spotted something wounded and defensive in this kindred spirit and his compassion flowed out into unpolished bluntness.

"Awkward seeing her, isn't it?"

"Quite." Winthrop's brown eyes assessed him with a subtle cageyness. "Yes, she knows all our dirty little secrets, doesn't she?" He toyed with the cane, stabbing at the dirt. "All the unfaithful and murderous wives."

"Quite."

Cabot Cove seemed to have more of its fair share of murder and mayhem. Most of those nasty incidents being uncovered by Mrs. Fletcher. Both Winthrop and Garrison had been left on the long list of residual victims. Their wives were murders; Mrs. Garrison because she was having an affair, and Mrs. Winthrop because she was afraid her husband would have an affair.

"So what is to become of us?” Winthrop sighed philosophically. “I wish Mrs. Fletcher had covered that in her solution of the case. After being blissfully ignorant, it's quite a shock to discover your wife is a jealous murderer."

"And that she thinks you are an insipid failure," Drew chimed in fervently.

Charles winced. "Harsh."

"Indeed." He sighed and waved it away with a cavalier gesture. "But time heals all wounds as the poet said. What will you do now?"

"I don't know. You?"

With a crafty smile, Drew edged closer. Conspiratorially he leaned over and quietly admitted, "I have written a book about the -- uh -- misadventure. Stealing a bit of Jessica Fletcher's thunder!" he sniggered. "At the end of the semester I am meeting with some people in Hollywood. They are talking about a television series."

Winthrop was both amused and impressed. "How fortunate."

"Not only has this been a cathartic experience, it is going to prove extremely profitable."

"I envy you." He sighed again and gazed out at the harbor, his expression distant. “You’ll be escaping.”

"Best of all, I am taking a page, almost literally, from Jessica!" he warmed with growing excitement. He had been unable to tell anyone of this secret life he had started. Who was there to confide in? Rita was in prison. No one else would understand, certainly not his unimaginative students. "Can you believe that people are actually anxious to hear of our tawdry little crimes and passions here in Cabot Cove?"

"Hmph. They should try living here."

"Here, here." Winthrop seemed more relaxed, the demeanor less tense, the face more calm. It practically seemed as if they were old friends, sitting on this park bench discussing the ills of the world. Well, at least of this tiny corner of Maine. He dared an impudent inquiry. "What are you doing now after -- after your wife?"

"Shuffling around the house bouncing off the walls." With a depreciating grin, he raised his eyebrows. "I have often thought of writing down my -- uh -- misadventures. I don't know that I have any real skill for it."

"Why don't you give it a try," Drew encouraged, excited that they were on familiar turf.

"I don't know much about television. I like old movies, though."

"I could help you. That's what I do, you know. Teach writing. You should try it."

Charles seemed a bit embarrassed. "At my age? Well, I wouldn't know what to do with it."

"Aside from an excellent catharsis," Garrison smiled with relish, "it is proving to be very bankable. The world seems to love a good murder mystery." The comments coaxed a slight grin from the older man and Drew continued. "Why, you could write it into a story for my television show. The one that I might be creating."

This produced an outright laugh from Charles, but it soon faded into a speculative grin. "Really? Of course, I would need training. Or, you could just write it yourself, you know, you're the expert."

"With your collaboration," Garrison generously countered. "It is YOUR story. And you need to get it out of your system. Besides, you of all people deserve to benefit from this nasty business that you’ve -- we’ve -- lived through. Jessica can’t be the only one getting rich and famous off of misfortune.”

There was a gleam in the brown eyes that seemed to sweep away the cobwebs of unhappiness shrouded in the. "My friend, I think this could be the beginning of a beautiful relationship."

THE END

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