01x04 - The Art of m*rder

[bunniefuu]

Henry: My name is Henry Morgan. My story is a long one. Something happened nearly two centuries ago. And I was transformed. My life is just like yours... Except for one small difference... [Gasps] It never ends.

Over the years, you could say I've become a student of death. You see, I need to find a key to unlock my curse. So I currently work for the New York City medical examiner's office. It holds the largest collection of slightly chilled corpses in the world. If your game is death, you go where the action is.

[Indistinct conversations]

[Tapping]

Conrad: The Carlyle Endowment is committed to supporting institutions that share our core values.

Wouldn't you agree, mother?

With you, Conrad? I don't think it's possible.

[Sighs] Of course.

Will anyone be spared your ire tonight?

Your father.

Lucky for him, he's dead.

Mr. Mayor, I was under the impression you Communists didn't care for such opulence.

Your reviews are pedantic, unoriginal, lacking insider clarity.

Fortunately, you're a critic and completely unimportant.

If only it was her funeral.

[Indistinct conversations]

Lance!

I told you to wait.

Mrs. Carlyle, I hope you're well.

I'm 91 years old. I'm never well.

I'd say you look 91 years young.

Explain to me again, director chambers, why you haven't finished the renovation of my gallery.

The gallery is my top priority.

Disappoint me again and you'll be curating finger-painting exhibitions for preschoolers.

[Applause in distance]

Gloria Carlyle was always there to sustain the museum with her generosity.

Her vision for this institution has seen us through many dark hours.

Gloria has two great passions... her family and her art.

It's a great honor to have them both here with us.

Tonight, on the 60th anniversary of her endowment, we celebrate a woman who's touched so many with her kindness.

To Gloria.

[Camera shutter clicking]

[Police radio chatter]

Man: Detective, mayor wants to know when we are releasing the guests.

The mayor's office called?

No. The mayor is here.

Okay. Check the names against the guest list, then get them out of here.

Got it.

Guess blue bloods bleed like the rest of us.

[Sighs] Ready for a high profile case?

Jo: Give me the good news first.

[Chuckling] I'm fresh out.

This part of the museum's under construction, so video surveillance was down.

Guards were stationed at the exits, didn't tell us much.

And a whole bunch of muckety-mucks came running in her after they found her.

CSI says they trampled the whole scene.

So, what's the bad news?

Oh.

Your M.E. didn't show.

Where's Henry?

He, um... Couldn't make it.

Does he understand how important this is?

This is Gloria Carlyle.

There are buildings, parks, a bridge all named after her.

The mayor is here.

He's expecting our best people on this.

Seemed like something personal.

Although, you can never tell with him.

But I'm really excited to be your on-site lead for this.

[Clears throat]

Would you... would you like to hear my initial report?

Yeah. Okay. Let's have it.

Well, to begin with...

She's dead.

When Gloria Carlyle d*ed, 91 years worth of memories disappeared in an instant.

People, places, loved ones and enemies alike, all gone, lost forever.

Even one distant memory of me.

We can only imagine what her final thoughts were.

Fear, anger... We'll never know.

Everything is forgotten in death.

I, of course, can never forget, especially Gloria and the debt I owe her.



Lucas: Broken pelvis, cracked femur...

Compound fracture there.

The damage to her vertebrae is extensive.

20 to 30 contusions on all sides, including defensive wounds on the hands and the forearms.

And that's just my initial report.

What do you think?

Hello, detective.

I'll let the adults talk.

Why weren't you there?

I never go to that museum.

Henry, what are you talking about?

Do you have any idea who she was?

Gloria Carlyle, the last living heir to John Arthur Carlyle, who founded New York Steel in 1901.

The family's fortune and power were legendary.

Many claim to have built New York City.

The Carlyle family did the job.

It's Gloria. Gloria Carlyle.

Did you know her?

No.

But I'll find out what happened.

I'm starting my autopsy now.

One thing's for certain...

This wasn't a natural death.

Hi.

Oh!

Hey. Hi.

Hi back at you.

It's crazy all the reporters out there, huh?

Yeah.

They're probably just, uh, here for the Carlyle case.

I was... I was the lead M.E. at the crime scene there.

Wow.

So, do you think it was m*rder?

Well, we just completed the initial autopsy, and that was rough.

Still waiting for the tox report to come back, but, uh, looks like it. [Chuckles]

So, uh, so what do you... oh.

[Cellphone vibrating]

Hey, d-do you want something? A soda?

My treat.

Oh, no thanks.

Ah, got to take it.

Yeah. Go... go take it.

I got the M.E. on the record.

He says it's m*rder.

[Bell dings]

Morning.

You look terrible.

Well, thank you.

Even an immortal needs a solid six hours.

Well, today might not be much better.

A Lieutenant Reece called.

Wondered if you'd seen this.

What do you need?

Coffee.

Lots of coffee.

Mm.

They say this Gloria Carlyle was a real witch.

The most hated blue blood in the city.

[Indistinct conversations]

She wasn't always.

You want to talk about it?

Ah, a Louis XIV desk right out in the open.

Grandfather must have bought it.

Could you imagine an estate like this coming on the market all at once?

I bet you those Berkowitz brothers will try to get there first, huh?

Ray and Arty Berkowitz, your nemesis?

Yeah, sure.

They got this Tony Upper East Side store, but they'd walk right over a body for a choice antique.

Mm, well, I'm sure you can handle them.

I should get to the station.

Oh, listen.

Um, if at work, you hear about the Carlyle estate sale, could you let me know?

Put me on the list?

Abraham, I'm a medical examiner, an officer of the city.

Don't worry. I've got other sources.

Conrad: My family has been part of the heart blood of this city for over 150 years.

And this is the first time that anything like this has ever happened.

Very sorry.

Sorry is not good enough.

I was told this autopsy would be held confidentially.

So, I take it you were not the one who talked to the press.

What happened?

I'm not sure yet.

What can we do about it?

There's nothing to be done about it now.

This is on page six!

Whoa.

Hey, uh...

I need to talk to you.

You were the source for the story.

Okay. So, uh... [Stammers]

Was she pretty?

Very.

I feel awful, okay?

I-I'm gonna go talk to the lieutenant.

I've written up my resignation.

Go back to the lab. Say nothing.

I was the source for the story. Do you understand?

Okay. Thank you.

I-I just... you know, I'd been up all night.

And she just appeared.

Stop.

Yeah?

Leave. Try not to make any more headlines today.

Copy.

What are you gonna do about it?

Henry, Jo, have a seat, please.

Lieutenant, I'm afraid an apology must be made standing.

Mr. Carlyle, on behalf of the city of New York and the office of the chief medical examiner, accept this apology and the knowledge this will never happen again.

I still want him taken off the case.

But I've apologized.

I've extended my hand as a gentleman.

My mother deserves the best, and you have been found lacking.

Mr. Carlyle, no one understands better the specifics of this case or the importance of the Carlyle name.

All due respect, sir, he is the best.

Shall my lawyers contact the mayor again, twice in one day?

Lieutenant, if I may...

Henry, I'm sorry, but I'm pulling you from the case.

Dr. Vaughn will take over from here.

Hey, Hanson.

Yo.

Check the security tapes the museum just sent over.

The, uh, speeches from the gala should be on it.

Want butter on your popcorn?

That's your choice. I'm going to the crime scene.

Henry, you okay?

I've never been removed from a case before.

Well, happens to the best of us.

You know, just because you don't have a body doesn't mean you can't investigate with me.

Great. I'll come with you.

There's just one problem.

We're going to the museum.

Wow, you really do have an issue with this.

So, I guess the only question is, how badly do you want to solve this m*rder?

Let me grab my scarf.

[Siren wailing]

Okay. What is it? Spill it.

You were acting stranger than normal.

It's nothing.

Come on, Henry.

What is your issue with this museum?

Why don't you come here?

Old memories.

Okay. Can I say one thing?

A cop usually knows what's going on with their partner.

We should talk.

I'm an M.E., Jo.

I'm not sure I'm officially your partner.

I was not making any official kind of point.

[Thunder rumbles]

[Woman laughing]

This way!

Over here!

Quickly.

[Panting]

We're closed.

I beg your pardon.

It's a private party.

But we're the Vermeers.

This is Dr. Henry Vermeer and I'm his wife.

We've just arrived from London for his great-grandfather's exhibit.

You're not here, lady.

We've traveled 3,500 miles.

Calm down. I...

Um...

Look, could you please hurry?

I was the one that forgot the umbrella and Mrs. Vermeer hates getting wet.

Fine.

Fine.

[Slow-tempo jazz music plays]

Abigail, we're not supposed to be here.

I'm also quite certain Vermeer was Dutch.

[Indistinct conversations]

This is very rash.

You can't plan for everything, Henry.

Sometimes it's good to be rash.

It's fun.

Jo: Henry?

You okay?

So, the victim was struck several times with an unidentified object.

There were no weapons found.

Blood splatter was irregular with traces all over the floor.

Hmm. What do you think?

What I've discovered is that the scene of any crime is much larger than this space.

To truly understand this m*rder, we must go back seconds, minutes, hours, even.

Henry.

I've been doing this for 10 years.

Let's go easy on the lecture.

You asked me what I thought.

[Sighs] My mistake.

Please.

I think we should go back, walk in Gloria's shoes...

Her Yves Saint Laurent pumps, to be exact.

They look like fall of '61.

Are you serious?

I know a bit about women's shoes.

What is that?

It's an original FBI fingerprinting kit.

Well, the room has already been dusted, Henry, with actual modern equipment.

I'm not looking for prints. I'm after rubber.

The soles of Gloria's shoes were made of natural soft rubber harvested from the Amazonian sharinga trees.

They leave a subtle mark unlike the synthetic rubber used in shoes after '73.

Fascinating.

She crawled here.

She crawled?

Yes.

And the marks lead all the way to...

I know what k*lled her.

The w*apon?

It wasn't a w*apon.

It was this marble staircase.

So, she fell. It was an accident.

She was pushed.

How do you know she was pushed?

The crawl.

The damage to her body was crippling.

Broken pelvis, countless fractures.

She shouldn't have been able to move.

But someone made her.

Gloria tried to get away the only way she could, by crawling.

She crawled 30 meters into the gallery, in agony, in pain.

Why?

There was someone else.

The guard said Gloria was alone.

He was wrong.

I'm not sold.

Very well. I'll explain it again.

No. Listen.

There's no way of knowing that there was someone else.

[Cellphone ringing]

Yep?

Hanson: There was someone else.

What?

Video surveillance from the party shows a guy heading toward the east gallery just after Gloria wandered off.

He... he slipped past the guards.

Okay. Do we have an I.D.?

Yeah. One Lance Sharp.

I.D.'d him from his photo in the newspaper.

Okay. Let's bring him in.

Do not gloat, Henry.

Lance, fella, you did pretty well for yourself.

Guy from Queens landing himself an Upper East Side princess.

What do you think, Jo?

You know, part of me thinks, "attaboy, Lance."

The other part of me wants to stomp your face in.

Before we get to that, why'd you k*ll Gloria Carlyle?

I've told you. I didn't.

I couldn't.

It's on video.

You followed Gloria out of the party.

And when you came back, you looked shaken, which makes sense because you just k*lled a 90-year-old woman.

What are you doing here?

Assisting with the case, offering a meta-analysis.

I can help, lieutenant.

So Jo keeps telling me.

May I stay?

How can I tell you to stay? You're not even here.

I'm sorry.

Are you asking me to leave or...

Oh, for God sake, Henry. Just watch.

Why would I k*ll her?

I'm in love with her granddaughter.

I'm gonna marry Sofia.

We have you following the victim to the scene of the crime.

Conrad wouldn't give me his blessing.

So I decided to ask Gloria.

All night, I'm getting up the courage to do it.

When she left the party, I saw my chance.

Oh, let me guess what happened next, Lance.

She said no, you pushed her down the steps, and then you stole this.

A 6-carat blue diamond worth $3 million.

Found it at your loft.

Gloria gave that to me for the engagement.

Oh, she gave you a $3 million ring?

I know. It sounds crazy.

She gave me the ring and then she mumbled something about following your heart.

She'd never said anything like that to me before.

May I borrow your phone?

That's the last I saw of her, I swear.

This is the biggest fairy tale I've ever heard.

[Cellphone ringing]

Lieutenant?

Henry, what are you doing?

No.

No, actually, this is not better than just barging in.

Hold on.

Why was Gloria mumbling?

I don't know.

She was acting strange, slurring her words.

What did her skin feel like?

Cold.

Was she, uh... Was she sweating?

Did she lean on her cane?

Yeah.

Are you done?

Great.

Goodbye.

She also said something about a burning smell like... toast.

[Banging on glass]

What is it?

She may not have been pushed.

Wait, what are you saying? You were wrong?

No. We need to go back further.

Okay, I don't want a lecture here, but what does that mean?

The burning smell was phantosmia.

It's a symptom of a stroke in the temporal lobe.

It's very rare and usually caused by medication, something for a neurological condition... epilepsy, Parkinson's.

But I found no sign of either in my autopsy.

Her brain was normal.

What do you want to do?

I need a biopsy of Gloria's liver.

Then we can tell exactly what poisoned her.

It's not your body, Henry.

Only the acting M.E. can do that.

I know someone who can do it for me.

Henry, I-I-I'm so sorry I got you kicked off the case.

I need a liver biopsy for Gloria Carlyle.

She's not here. The... the body's gone.

Dr. Vaughn released her to the mortuary.

What?

Wait. What's going on?

An innocent man is about to be arrested for m*rder.

I-I'll do anything to fix this.

Just tell me.

There's nothing you can do.

Sofia: I can't help you, Detective Martinez.

Lance didn't k*ll my grandmother.

Sofia, the best way to help Lance is by talking to me.

What do you want to know?

Your grandmother's medication.

If we knew what she was taking, we may be able to figure out what k*lled her.

I don't know anything about that.

Your father might.

Do you think he would help us?

No.

Not if Lance could benefit.

I-I don't get it.

Somebody m*rder*d your grandmother.

Don't you want to find out who really k*lled her?

He doesn't care. He didn't love her.

You don't understand my family.

We're not like normal people.

Instead of having lives of our own, we learned how to hurt each other for sport.

My grandmother was a heartless woman, at least as long as I knew her.

This is amazing.

To be alone with them.

Like an artist.

Woman: She's very beautiful.

Yes.

Yes, she is.

I saw you arrive.

It's good to see people in love.

And yet I'm confused.

You don't have a ring on your finger.

Neither does she.

Why haven't you asked her to marry you?

Excuse me. Who are you?

My question first.

Uh, champagne?

Never drink and you never lose your head.

Now, why?

I don't think I'm the right man for her.

Nothing in life is certain, especially this.

It's a long story.

When you're in love, you feel like you have all the time in the world.

But trust me, you don't.

If you have a chance at love, Mr. Vermeer, take it.

It's Gloria. Gloria Carlyle.

You're crashing my party.

Jo: Guess what I learned about Gloria.

Gloria threatened to kick Conrad out of the will.

That's motive.

Yeah. There's more.

His lawyers went after the probate judge.

They managed to wrest control of everything in the townhouse.

He's having an estate sale right now.

Now? We should go.

I-it's invite only.

[Sighs] Can I borrow your phone?

[Dialing]

[Ringing]

Abe. It's me.

The Carlyle estate sale is today.

Think you can make it?

I'm already there.

You're there?

In the flesh. Told you I have my sources.

Excellent.

Now, I need you to do me a favor.

Can you get to Gloria Carlyle's bathroom?

Oh, Henry, what are we talking about here?

I built a very respectable reputation over the years, unlike those Berkowitzes.

We heard that.

Yeah, good.

Abe, you're all I've got here.

All right. All right.

Henry, what is it you need?

I need you to take a picture of all the medications in Gloria's medicine cabinet.

Now, bear with me, this is technical.

I need you to take a jpg on your smartphone and then mail that to Jo's computer.

Henry, I'm on it.

[Door opens, closes]

[Door opens, closes]

Ooh, that's nice.

Unh-unh. Bathroom.

Bingo.

You know I figured it out, right?

I know your secret, Henry.

Your whole issue with the museum.

You're a modern-art guy.

Trust me, I'm a classicist.

All right. Now I'm really confused.

You gonna keep me guessing?

It reminds me of someone.

Who?

Come on, Henry. I'm an NYPD detective.

I'm gonna get a name out of you.

Trust me, time is on my side.

You'll find with me, Jo, that's not usually the case.

[Computer chimes]

Hey, we got Abe's pictures.

[Keys clacking]

No.

No.

For the heart. For the lungs.

Blood pressure.

It's not here.

What's not here?

The toxin.

None of these medications would have caused a stroke in the temporal lobe.

[Sighs]

What do we do now?

Well, we have no suspect, no poison.

We're nowhere, Henry.

The lawyers are gonna take over.

First, the medical examiner blabs to the press.

Now you're dragging your heels.

You have your suspect.

Indict him.

My family has endured enough.

He has epilepsy.

What?

H-Henry, wait, wait.

Mr. Carlyle.

What is he doing here?

I thought he was removed from the case.

What do you take for your epilepsy?

What?

The medication. Is it phenytoin?

Or some other anticonvulsant?

I don't have to answer that.

What is this?

Dr. Morgan, this is not the time.

Okay, H-Henry, let's go.

This is important. The case depends on it.

Do you take phenytoin?

Yes, millions of people do. Why are you asking me this?

Because it's the drug that k*lled your mother.

Are we really doing this? Questioning Conrad Carlyle?

He's one of the most powerful people in the whole city.

Yeah, it's risky, but the will gives him motive.

The prescription, the means. We have to talk to him.

What do you want to do, boss?

Bring him in.

Jo: Mr. Carlyle, how would you characterize your relationship with your mother?

Conflicted.

I'm not here.

No, you are not.

Jo: Did your mother thr*aten to take you out of the will?

Often.

But I always managed to get myself written back in.

Not this time.

You were not in the will?

I know my mother, detective.

When she threatened to write me out, it meant that she'd already done it.

Of all the people who wanted her to live, I had the most to gain.

There goes his motive.

I hated my mother.

But I did not k*ll her.

She was a miserable old woman.

Most of New York hated her.

Who knows how she got that way?

Henry: What is it?

This room is filled with Degas, Monet, all masterpieces.

And one painting by an unknown Argentinean.

Ah, the Vermeers.

Abigail, this is Gloria.

It's her party.

I think you have someone special here, Abigail.

I think you're right.

[Sighs]

Do you have someone special?

Yes. Yes, I do.

Unfortunately, he couldn't be here tonight.

Conrad: Mother.

Mother!

Daddy says it's time to go. We have to go, now.

Well, good night.

They tell me it stopped raining.

Should be a beautiful evening.

Let's go, Conrad.

Man: Unless you have anything of substance here, this conversation is over.

[Elevator bell dings]

It's not all bad.

We know the type of drug that poisoned Gloria.

That's something.

And Conrad's argument's hardly an alibi.

Henry, we have your guess. That's it.

There's no tox report.

We still need proof the drug was in her system, what it was, and when she was poisoned.

And we don't have her body.

Lucas.

Yes?

Hey! Hi.

What did you do?

Okay.

Before I tell you, I'd really prefer you don't get mad.

What's happening?

Lucas took a long lunch.

Lucas never takes a lunch longer than half an hour, enough time to enjoy exactly one comic book.

It's a graphic novel.

He's also wearing his metrocard lanyard, which he usually hangs on the light behind his work station until he leaves at 8:00.

Where did you go, Lucas?

[Chuckles]

I went to the funeral home and did a biopsy on Gloria Carlyle's liver.

Wait, what?!

How?

I told them Dr. Vaughn left his wedding ring inside the body and I had to... retrieve it.

Okay, h-h-hold on.

You went to a funeral home... Hey!

Yeah.

Did an unauthorized exam on a person about to be buried on your lunch break?

This was all my fault, all right?

I'm trying to fix this.

Wow, you are pretty when you're mad.

Henry: Lucas?

Yes?

It's the best thing you've ever done.

Oh. That's probably the first real compliment you've ever given...

Not now. We've got work to do.

Yeah, okay. Mm-hmm.

Okay. For the record, I did not hear any of this.

Got it.

I was right.

It was phenytoin... Three times the usual dose.

But she wasn't poisoned at the party.

Based on the damage to her liver, it was taken three hours earlier.

Who was with Gloria before she left?

That's the k*ller.

Conrad wasn't there. Neither was Lance or Sofia.

Just the nurse, Marta.

Jo, they read the will.

The nurse got everything.

[Door opens]

Marta, I'm Detective Hanson.

You know why you're here?

This is about the money.

Know what happens if she's charged with m*rder?

The family lawyers contest the will and the money goes back to them.

Marta, Gloria Carlyle was poisoned with phenytoin.

You were in charge of her medications, weren't you?

Yes. But I would never hurt her.

I was her nurse for 20 years.

How'd she treat you?

Poorly at first.

She was old, angry, but someone had to take care of her.

No one else would.

Marta, take me through the night Gloria d*ed, step by step.

It was like any other. Dinner was served at 5:00.

I helped dress her for the party at half past.

She was cold, so I made her a fire.

A fire?

While she was dressing...

The sun was still out.

It was warm, mid-80s.

A fire would have been unbearable.

Something doesn't fit. We have to go there.

Conrad's not gonna let us in.

It's not his anymore.

Ray: Be careful with those boxes.

Man: You got it, Mr. Berkowitz.

Excuse me. Who are you?

Um, Detective Martinez, NYPD.

Where's Gloria Carlyle's bedroom?

Upstairs. Master suite.

Great.

Touch nothing!

Marta said Gloria was cold.

She wanted a fire.

Older people get cold, Henry.

I think there was another reason.

People do that? They burn letters?

I've only seen that in old movies.

Those movies weren't old to Gloria.

This room is filled with Degas, Monet, all masterpieces.

And one painting by an unknown Argentinean.

Arty!

Damn it! This isn't a complete set.

There's only 23 champagne glasses.

We're missing one.

The list was checked only a week ago.

Look. "Complete set."

Never drink and you never lose your head.

She never drank.

These are vintage coupe glasses, her personal set.

Were they stored here?

Yeah.

You know your glassware.

If you ever have a, uh, case with interesting antiques, call me.

We're not afraid of dead bodies.

We'll step right over them.

What are you thinking?

She never drank, yet there's one glass missing.

Marta's story doesn't make sense.

Okay, Ray. I'll check the dinner plates.

Dinner.

Jo, I know this is annoying, but can I please borrow your phone?

Marta, I don't care where you're from, what kind of troubles you had back in the home country.

My questions are only gonna get tougher here.

[Cellphone ringing]

What is it?

Oh, no. I'm not...

H-Henry, I'm...

What did Gloria have for dinner?

Duck confit.

Duck confit.

[Sighs]

A traditional Gascony confit?

Yes.

Yeah, traditional.

Don't call me again, Henry.

It didn't happen here. She was given the drug later.

What about the liver sample?

Duck confit's incredibly salty.

The sodium in her system would have accelerated the drug's effect.

The time of poisoning was wrong by 30 minutes, maybe an hour.

So, she was k*lled before the gala.

Let's check the car.

Let's go.

Excuse me.

What are you doing here?

Our job, sir. Asking questions.

This home belongs to the Carlyle Endowment.

I want you both out.

Why?

Why do you not want us to find your mother's k*ller?

You have Marta. Indict her.

By the time I'm done, you'll be solving crimes in the Port Authority bus station.

Sir, I suggest you file a formal complaint with my lieutenant.

Consider it done.

Lieutenant Reece, this is Conrad Carlyle.

I'm calling about two of your people.

[Sighs] 1965 Rolls-Royce Phantom V.

Everyone should have one of these.

Scottish leather. Maple inlays.

Discreet bar.

m*rder w*apon included.

This is where it happened.

Who was in this limo with Gloria?

Conrad, Sofia, Marta... one of them k*lled her.

Jo, you don't have to call anyone.

I know who did it.

Lieutenant Reece, I want an explanation for this.

That's why we're here.

Who k*lled my mother?

Henry: Gloria did.

It was su1c1de?

My autopsy revealed a woman with months to live.

Gloria knew this, so she planned her own death, down to the last detail...

When she would take the drug that would k*ll her, how much time she would have after that.

She chose the night of the gala because it was a celebration of her favorite place and her one chance to tell everyone exactly what she thought of them.

The party was her su1c1de note.

She left the gala knowing she only had a few moments to live.

But she was held up by Lance.

The drug was acting too fast now.

When she came to the stairs, she fell.

And here was my mistake.

I couldn't imagine her dragging herself across the floor, 30 meters, in pain few could imagine.

I thought only fear could drive someone to do that.

Henry, you're lecturing.

Why did she do it?

Because there was another reason.

There was a letter in Gloria's fireplace, b*rned the night she d*ed.

It was signed F.C.

This room is filled with Degas, Monet, all masterpieces.

What doesn't belong here?

This.

A painting by an unknown artist.

In the 1950s, Fernando Costa was a young painter on the rise...

Promising, but hardly worthy of this museum.

Only one person could make this happen.

Gloria Carlyle.

And she was in love with him.

Do you have someone special?

Yes, I do.

Unfortunately, he couldn't be here tonight.

This theory is based on... love.

We do have proof, correct?

[Sighs] Mr. Carlyle?

My father told me once how she'd fallen in love with an artist.

He told me how he'd found out and threatened to ruin this young painter.

And mother relented and stayed.

Father took pride in having won her back.

He said it was just a dalliance that she'd forgotten.

But he was wrong.

She never forgave him.

And I never forgave her.

She donated millions of dollars to secretly keep this painting on display...

And one day die in front of it.

I hope she saw it.

Good work back there.

Thank you.

You know, I know it's hard to go someplace with old memories.

You do?

Yeah.

Yeah, my husband and I, we used to have this spot in Chinatown.

Best dim sum in the city.

After he d*ed, I went back exactly one time.

The good memories, those are the ones that hurt the most.

[Sighs]

Her name was Abigail.

And there you go.

We're talking, getting to know each other.

Good.

Now I have a serious question.

Yankees or Mets?

More of a cricket man.

Let's go, partner.

[Chuckles]

Abe: So, the nurse got everything, huh?

Amazing.

Well, not exactly.

Most of the money went to the museum and a handful of charities.

Marta was left with a paltry $22 million.

Chump change.

And the family?

Well, none will starve.

The furniture and the ring will keep them wealthy for years to come.

I think Gloria saw her fortune as a curse of sorts, the thing that kept her from love.

♪ The rich man like all ♪

Hmm.

Ruined her life.

Sad story, indeed.

♪ Oh, lord ♪
♪ Will be judged at that time ♪

I don't know.

In her last moments, she was with the man she loved.

Mm.

It's a sad story with a happy ending.

I guess I'll understand that when I'm older.

♪ It won't save ♪

Think I'll go for a stroll.

♪ Oh, won't save ♪
♪ Your poor wicked soul ♪

Checkmate, by the way.

Well done... sir.

♪ Oh, no, it won't save ♪

Oh, yeah. Take your coat.

I don't want to see you, uh, catch your death.

Eh, eh, eh, eh. Wait a minute.

♪ Your poor wicked soul ♪

Where did you get this??

Tell me the truth. Are you in communication with one or more of the Berkowitz brothers?

Because I forbid that.

Ah.

Better.

[Bell dings]

Henry: For the dead, all is forgotten.

But all is not lost because they're remembered by us.

Some we think of fondly, others less so.

A few are remembered by many, and some by only a few.

♪ The very thought of you ♪
♪ Makes my heart sing ♪
♪ Like an April breeze ♪
♪ I give myself in sweet surrender ♪

Promise me we will never be like Gloria and her husband, that we'll always love each other.

Oh, never like them. Of course.

♪ My one and only love ♪

[Chuckles] My Henry.

Someday I'll be gone and you'll still be here.

Abigail...

This may be rash...

I don't know what the future holds.

But as long as I'm alive...

♪ I give myself in sweet surrender ♪

I will always love you.

Forever.

Will you marry me?

♪ My one and only ♪
♪ Love ♪