01x18 - Scheherazade

[bunniefuu]

My father had a method.

Even when he disposed of his victims, he-he never destroyed his work.

His ego wouldn't let him.

He never tried to dissolve or burn the bodies.

Whatever he did to you, he would have preserved it.

He liked knowing you were out there.

How many times have we been over this?

Find me.

I know, I know.

Your location has to be somewhere here, but I-I...

I'm missing it.

We've checked the cabin, the woods, his disposal sites, the tunnels underneath the town house.

Find me.

I'm dead, Malcolm.

My sister over there?

She doesn't know where I am.

Neither do you.

Only one man does.

Stop running from him.

You know what you have to do.

What? What is it?

You found something?

No.

But I know what we have to do.

How would you like to meet my father?

Malcolm, my dearest plus-one, this is your mother.

I was just calling to let you know that since I am here alone, I will be donating all of your inheritance to the Nicholas Endicott Endowment for the Arts, because I know how much you love ballet.

Jessica Whitly?

I can't believe you're here.

You're so brave.

I love it.

Thank you, Cricket.

I was so sorry to hear about Connor and that admissions scandal.

All that for Tufts. Oh!

Oh, yes, well, at least nobody d*ed.

Jessica, there you are. Oh.

Uh, Cricket, will you give us a minute?

We're in the middle of something.

Oh, you don't have to save little old me.

Especially in the midst of your hosting duties.

You are hardly a damsel in distress.

Never have been.

Thank you, Nicholas.

When everyone else left me out in the cold, you always opened your door to me.

Well, I don't believe in guilt by association.

So, it's been too long.

Oh, let's not do the math on that.

No, I mean we should catch up.

Really talk. Lunch?

That would be lovely.

They're ready for you. Thank you. My apologies.

No one told me there'd be public speaking, and now I can't get out of it.

Mr. Endicott, a picture? Oh!

Come find me later. Mmm.

Good evening.

Thank you all for coming.

Now, I know you didn't come here just for the canapés.

You came to find out where your money's going.

So it is my honor to introduce Manhattan City Ballet Company's prima, Fiona Vara, and our newest star, Javier Suarez, making his American debut.

They'll be dancing a pas de deux from their upcoming production of Scheherazade.

You know your mom called this in, right?

Hmm, you think she's hanging out with the wrong crowd?

If you need to go find her... No.

I was supposed to be her plus-one.

If she sees me here, I could be the next victim.

Hey. You can't touch the stage.

There's a body on it.

Floor's property of the theater.

And now it's evidence.

Come on. You heard her.

Edrisa. Have we learned anything?

Uh, facial discoloration, pupil dilation and heavy blood viscosity are all classic traits of a death by poisoning.

Ah. We have any idea how it got into his system? Not yet. But based on the severity of his reaction, he should've felt the effects before he took the stage.

But witnesses said that he danced up until his very last breath.

Well, elite dancers master cognitive methods to tolerate discomfort.

Even acute pain.

Well, no one else is sick, so it's not the shrimp cocktail.

It's a targeted k*lling.

And a high-profile one, too.

This guy defected from Cuba eight weeks ago.

It could've been a hit job.

Assassination by poison?

That sounds like a spy novel.

Welcome to 2020.

Can't rule anything out.

I'm so sorry you had to see that.

It was terrible.

Sorry to interrupt.

Oh, Gil, you're here.

I didn't know who else to call.

Have you met Nicholas Endicott?

Not yet.

Lieutenant Gil Arroyo.

I have a few questions for you, if you don't mind.

Whatever you need.

I was just trying to raise some money for the arts, and then... this.

It's-it's devastating. Oh.

Did you know Javier?

I guess I could be considered one of his patrons.

I helped him settle here.

So, as his patron, it wasn't just professional?

You had a personal connection with him?

I had a personal connection with just about everyone here tonight.

What are you getting at? Nothing.

He's just doing his job. Hmm.

Isn't that right, Gil?

Yep.

Just doing my job.

Where is Malcolm Bright?

Oh, my gosh, Bright. It's your mom!

Ah, Mrs. Whitly.

It's such a... Okay. Malcolm.

I should've known it would take a m*rder for you to show up for your mother.

Uh, excuse us, please, Edrisa.

Sure. No, yeah. We can all hang later.

Mother, I'm sorry I couldn't make it here for this.

Wait, are you apologizing for standing me up or because you missed your chance to witness a m*rder?

Oh, forget it.

I'm guessing you were with her?

Eve?

Yes. I'm trying to help her.

It's the least our family can do.

I know.

I just...

I don't want you to do anything too extreme.

What would you consider extreme?

Okay, fine.

Just tell me that whatever you're planning, it doesn't involve your father.

Can you do that?

No, I can't.

You've signed a hold harmless agreement, which indemnifies Claremont from any physical harm and/or mental distress.

I need your confirmation that you are not in the possession of any cell phones, recording devices or weapons.

Y-Yes. Nothing like that.

Dr. Whitly will be in his restraints, but he is considered to be aggressive, unpredictable and highly dangerous. You understand?

You're gonna be fine.

But just remember, whatever you do, do not step across the red line.

Dr. Whitly.

I'd like you to meet someone.

Eve Blanchard.

My boy.

Finally, I get to meet the special lady in your life.

You're prettier than I imagined.

To what do I owe the pleasure?

Well, don't be shy.

I know meeting the parents can be a bit intimidating, but trust me, I'm a p*ssy cat compared to his mother.

Eve?

Well, that's one way to make a first impression.

She seems great.

The girl in the box that Malcolm found.

Her name was Sophie Sanders.

Huh? How do you know that?

She was my sister.

Where is she?

I'm afr...

I'm afraid I don't know.

You were wrong. This was a waste of time.

Your son thought that you would tell me the truth.

But I knew better.

You're not some self-styled genius.

It's all fake. Pretend.

You're not a surgeon.

You're not a father.

You're not even a man. Eve.

You are a void.

A hole that consumes anyone unfortunate enough to meet you.

Like your son. Like my sister.

I've told you all I can.

Malcolm, wait.

You don't understand.

You need to leave this alone.

I'm done.

When you're ready to tell the truth, I'll be back.

No, you're not listening to me. Malcolm!

How'd I do?

You were... brilliant.

For the first time in a long time, he looked... rattled.

That's a good thing, right?

Malignant narcissists like my father thrive on supply.

Supply? They need to feel relevant, needed, hated, loved, it doesn't matter.

They need to be... fed.

We just cut him off.

When he gets desperate enough, he'll give us what we want.

I hope you're right.

I don't know if I can do that again.

Did you know that when he arrived in the city, The New York Times called Javier Suarez "The Most Beautiful Man in New York"?

I disagreed.

What's this? Did someone punch him?

Possibly, but dancers do sustain a lot of unusual injuries.

I once autopsied an exotic dancer who caught a stiletto in her neck, and it crushed her trachea.

Tell me about these injection marks.

Ah. Good eye.

So, Javier suffered from tendinopathy, also known as "jumper's knee."

The tox screen showed cortisone in his system, as well as our cause of death: oleandrin.

Oleander flower.

One of the most accessible homicidal poisons in the world.

Which means it'll be untraceable.

If someone had access to Javier's cortisone, they could've laced his sh*t.

Poisoners are a particular type of k*ller.

They don't derive any pleasure from their murders.

They don't need to feel the blood on their hands or watch the victim's life drain from their eyes.

They keep their distance and k*ll for utility.

Like an assassination.

If it was the Cubans, they'd probably use a far more efficient poison.

I know I would.

Okay. Then who are we looking for?

We're likely looking for someone who k*lled for financial reward, or to maintain a comfortable lifestyle.

A classic comfort-gain k*ller.

The k*ller will have a history of theft, larceny or fraud.

They can also wait years before k*lling again.

We have to find them before the trail goes cold.

Who stood to gain from Javier's death?

I looked into the dance company.

Javier replaced Joseph Krieg, who was something called a "danseur noble."

Noble. That's the lead male dancer.

My mother took me to the ballet a lot as a kid.

So, Joseph Krieg loses his spot to Javier, then poisons him to get back on stage.

I assume there aren't a whole bunch of danseur noble running around.

All right.

Let's go get some culture.

Okay, everybody, back to one.

Bright, you and Powell, go find Mr. Krieg.

JT and I will talk to the company, see if anyone else wanted Javier out.

This is Bright. Leave a message.

Son, it's... Dad.

Hey, look, I know our last visit, uh... could have gone better, but, um, please call.

I read about the m*rder of that ballet dancer.

Love to share some theories with you.

Please.

It's important.

Joseph Krieg?

We just have a few questions.

What was it?

Rotator cuff or labrum?

What it is, is the final "screw you" from my former partner.

Fiona Vara?

Lost her balance during a lift, wrapped her leg around my arm, and pop.

Next thing I know, some fresh-off-the-boat commie has my job.

You get those bruises from hitting Javier?

We heard you two had words.

We might have gotten into it.

Doesn't make me a k*ller.

Doesn't make you innocent, either.

Everyone loved Javier... maybe a little too much.

You two were romantically involved?

Romantically?

There's nothing romantic about it.

Dancers live by a code.

Pirouettes, cigarettes, easy sex.

No regrets.

I guess that's why you're not mourning his death.

If I wanted to k*ll the guy, I'd wait till my two months of rehab was up.

If you find whoever k*lled him, tell them their timing sucks.

But if you want suspects, Javier slept with half the women in this company.

And believe me, those divas are unstable.

Uh... code aside, you both need to account for your whereabouts on the day Javier was k*lled.

Or you could just look at my Insta.

Oh, my God. Oh, my God!

Oh, my God! Hey.

Oh, my God! Oh, my God! Hey, hey, hey. Hey, whoa.

What's wrong? What's wrong? My eyes!

What's going on? Hey, hey. They're on fire!

No! Oh, my God! No! Stay here.

What happened?

It's her eyes.

Capsaicin.

As in pepper spray? Yeah.

Uh, Dani, get some milk.

JT, see if you can find some dish soap.

Shh. Suzie, listen.

I need to get your contacts out now.

If I don't, you may lose your sight forever.

Do you have an airbrush? Yes.

Uh, Gil, hold her eyes open.

I'm right here. I'm right here.

Okay. One, two, three.

Okay.

Okay, here.

Put this on your eyes.

First poisoning, now blinding.

What is happening?

We're locking this theater down.

With any luck, the k*ller's here.

Tights lined with straight pins.

Toe shoes stuffed with shards of glass.

Laxative-spiked oat milk.

I've raided drug dealers' houses and turned up less incriminating evidence!

Does anyone have anything to say?

They're all yours.

Everyone!

Your attention.

My name is Malcolm Bright.

I'm a profiler.

I spend all of my time studying K*llers.

Now, most K*llers can't hide who they are.

If I push the right button...

I can tell.

But not you.

You're all trained to hide your pain, your fear, everything.

Lucky for me, one of you recently handled concentrated capsaicin, a highly toxic substance that contaminates anyone who touches it.

And the pain... should be kicking in about now.

At first, it's just a tingling sensation.

Then it turns to a burn.

And soon, your entire body feels like it's crawling with fire ants, and it just gets worse from there.

Gina?

It wasn't my idea.

k*lling Javier?

No, not Javier. I meant what happened to Suzie.

I didn't mean to. I-I meant to just...

You did this for someone else.

Who?

Did they ask you to hurt Javier? No.

I never would have done that. But you know who could?

Same person that asked you to do this.

Where are they?

- Who are they? She won't tell you.

She can't.

Her career will be over.

Well, who has that power?

The director?

Someone on the board?

That's who you think has power?

Of course. The prima.

Fiona.

Madam, I'm sorry to interrupt.

It's him... again.

He's left multiple messages, and I don't...

Fine.

I should have expected this.

Oh, Mr. David, I do hope it was quick.

A stroke maybe?

Or a heart att*ck wouldn't be the worst thing, either.

Sorry to disappoint, my dear, but I'm still quite alive.

Oh. Pity.

Well, I'm hanging up.

Wait! Listen to me. You must... listen to me.

This is about our son.

Martin, stop being a helicopter parent.

He can solve his murders on his own.

No, this is about that girlfriend of his.

She's a bad influence.

She struck me, Jessica.

She struck... me!

Did she?

Oh.

I like her even better now.

Are you... are you even paying attention to me?

Truth be told, I am distracted by my photo on "Page Six." Oh.

I really thought those earrings were too much, but they just set that dress off perfectly.

"Page Six"? What are you talking about?

Well, I'll be hanging up now, but please do tell Mr. David that I do not wish to be contacted again until it is time to pick up your remains.

Ta-ta!

Fiona.

A word?

Suzie's lucky.

Doctors say she'll make a full recovery.

That is good news.

Suzie has quite a future at the company.

Then why did you have Gina try to blind her?

Gina's an idiot.

I wanted Suzie to stop sleeping around with the new boys.

Gina was supposed to scare her, not blind her.

So you admit it.

Perhaps we should do this with your lawyer present.

Is... Suzie going to press charges?

Thought so.

Rules of the jungle, right?

No one steps to the lioness.

And nothing happens at the company without my knowledge.

Like k*lling Javier?

I would never hurt Javier.

After years of being manhandled by Joseph, I finally had a world-class partner.

And I would have done anything to keep him.

Keep him?

He just got here.

Javier wanted out of his contract.

He upset some very powerful people.

They made his escape from Cuba possible.

Any idea who arranged all that?

His name is all over this building.

Nicholas Endicott.

Jessica's friend?

The one and only.

If you could please wait here for Mr. Endicott.

Take away the aspirated blood and the body bag, and this place is really something.

Too much house for me.

It's like, "We get it."

Detective Arroyo.

You should have called first.

Uh, Malcolm Bright, consultant.

We're here with some additional questions about Javier Suarez.

I'm not sure there's anything more to say.

You could have mentioned that you arranged and bankrolled his defection.

I told you I was his patron.

Don't start being modest now.

You helped him escape.

Look, I'm happy to make a statement at a more convenient time and with my lawyer present.

But right now, I've got company.

So if you don't mind, I'd like... Cole!

Did you say that you wanted that martini dry or dirty?

Malcolm.

Mother.

Oh, I see.

M-Malcolm, your son who works with the police.

Yes. Um, didn't I tell you that he was working on this case?

No.

Jess, what are you doing here?

Jess and I had lunch.

Which... went late.

Um, so... who d*ed this time? Well, apparently, I'm a suspect because I helped Javier escape Cuba.

And you went to all that trouble just to k*ll him?

Apparently.

That's not what we're saying.

Javier was a world-class dancer.

He was trapped in an authoritarian regime.

After he'd been through so much trauma, all he wanted was freedom.

What was Javier's trauma?

Javier was recruited when he was nine by Ballet Cultural de Cuba.

That's young.

Then, around '09, their artistic director, Ívan Castillo, was accused of embezzling funds by his own dancers.

Before he was arrested, he'd m*rder*d six of them.

The Ballet was ruined, and Javier's promising career was over before it began.

Until you helped him escape.

I don't believe our pasts should define us.

Do you know how the six dancers were k*lled?

Poison. That's how Castillo k*lled his dancers back in Cuba.

Via my contacts in Hudson County, aka Havana on the Hudson.

Wait.

JT.

Juan Tarmel.

No, but thanks for playing.

A few local journalists filled us in on what happened at the Ballet Cultural.

It was a big deal at the time.

What's on your mind, boss?

Poison.

So, we think Castillo's our guy?

Yeah, but the Cuban Dirección de Inteligencia said he d*ed trying to escape the country.

What happened to Javier afterward?

After those six dancers d*ed, he became the principal overnight.

Other ballet companies were suspicious.

Maybe Javier's death was revenge for what happened back in Cuba.

Javier wanted out of New York. Something spooked him.

Or someone.

Good thing we know who to ask.

Nothing happens without her knowing.

The lioness.

Well, this hasn't gone how I planned it.

Not your fault.

It's mine.

You-you wouldn't believe me if I told you.

Kids.

Oh, I have to apologize for not showing you the care you deserve.

Now...

Any last words?

Quickly, please.

Perhaps a new approach is in order.

See?

You don't step to the lioness.

Okay, let's take a break.

Back in ten.

How's the new danseur noble?

Amateur hour.

Javier would be horrified.

We heard about what happened at his company in Cuba.

Seems he had a checkered past of sorts.

Rumors.

They can hurt a dancer more than a broken bone.

And yet you were willing to take a chance on Javier when nobody else would.

People think being in charge is some sort of prize.

A gift. It's a burden.

For years, Javier worked himself to the bone and made that company his burden.

That's not something a backstabbing k*ller would do.

He had too much heart.

You had feelings for him?

I did.

So when he said he was leaving...

It was a surprise.

He was always so focused on the future before.

"Before."

So there was a change.

Yeah.

His, uh, performance was off.

But I thought... Not his technique.

He was freaking transcendent.

I mean his... performance.

He couldn't get on pointe, if you get my meaning.

When exactly did things start to change between you two, sexually speaking?

About two weeks ago.

When we moved to the theater to start tech.

I thought it was stage fright.

So if I've shared enough embarrassing details about my sex life, can I go?

Hey, Fiona.

Be good.

It's hard to be good when you're so much better than everyone else.

Javier was the highest profile defector since Rudolf Nureyev.

How do you know so much about ballet?

He was the toast of New York.

Then something scared him enough that he wanted to leave the city.

Maybe he was homesick.

Sounds like he made the company back in Cuba his whole life.

You're right.

Javier did have family, the Ballet Cultural.

He grew up there.

Then this horrific thing happens.

Castillo poisoned six of his own.

Imagine being a kid and having someone you knew and respected m*rder people you cared about.

That kind of trauma stays with you.

What if that trauma was triggered by someone in New York?

Who?

Ívan Castillo?

The Cuban government said...

As little as possible.

You think Castillo is alive? What if he is?

And he runs into Javier Suarez, all grown up.

And now Castillo has to face his worst fear, discovery.

That's a hell of a motive for a comfort k*ller.

But if Castillo is alive and here in New York, Javier could've seen him anywhere.

Only Javier spent every waking moment making this company his new home.

It's what he did his whole life.

Same with Ívan Castillo.

If he fled, he would want to be close to his passion, the stage.

Fiona said Javier changed when they moved to the theater.

Because Castillo is here.

Dani?

Yeah, boss. What's up?

We think Castillo is here.

As in here, here?

Yes.

Castillo, the dead guy from Cuba.

- Maybe not so dead. Makes sense.

Why would the Cuban D.I. want to admit he's alive?

It means he escaped justice.

We need to get everybody out who's not a Cuban male over 50 and do it without causing a scene.

You first. Let's go.

Yo. Let's go. You, too.

We're moving people out.

Bright? Gil, are those floor mics on?

Let's go, go, go. Move.

Orderly fashion, please. Come on, everybody.

Move, move, move. Let's go. Yep. Right through here.

It's an emergency. Let's go.

Let's go.

Hey. Hey!

Gotcha.

Not Ívan. Keep it moving.

Ívan Castillo, NYPD! You're under arrest!

Stop! Police!

Gina. Where's the prima?

I don't know. I think she left?

Where did she go?

Stay back!

I will k*ll her like Javier.

You've already proven what you'll do.

But it's over.

If you run, it won't just be the NYPD chasing you.

We spoke to Cuban D.I. this morning.

What do you think they'll do with you?

They're not exactly big on fair trials.

If you walk outside, you're all theirs.

You're lying.

Look into the street.

You're gonna see a delivery truck blocking traffic.

That's them.

Is there really a delivery truck out there?

It's New York.

There's always a delivery truck.

Détourné!

Clear.

It's fine.

He's down. You good?

The bus is on its way.

Traffic was blocked by a delivery truck.

See?

Am I imagining things, or did you just speak... ballet?

If you must know, my mother made me take ballet class.

For five years.

I showed great promise.

Well, bravo.

You were right. Cut off his supply...

He'll tell us what we want to know.

You okay?

I know. I know.

I won't go over the red line.

Oh, thank God you're here.

Are you ready to tell us the truth?

Yes. Yes, I've...

I've been trying to, um, order my thoughts, memories so it makes sense.

You've had long enough.

Say what you're gonna say about Sophie.

I doubt you can do any more damage than you've already done.

Oh, I have to warn you, Eve.

I can always do more damage.

Stop.

You can't hurt me.

What happened to Sophie?

All right. He's told you about our, uh, boys' weekend away.

I-I'd hoped for some bonding time, but...

Did you bring Sophie to the cabin?

Yes.

But, as you know, the weekend hadn't gone as planned.

Uh, Watkins att*cked me, Malcolm... stabbed him, and I still had Sophie to take care of.

You mean m*rder. I mean I had my hands full.

Eventually... Malcolm fell asleep.

And... I managed to carve out some time for the two of us.

Keep going.

She was in the cellar, tied up.

Still, you know, I enjoy a little chitchat.

Now, any last words?

Tell him he's not going to get away with this.

I've heard a lot of last words.

Uh, people beg for their lives, tell me about their families, uh, confess their sins.

One even actually asked me to take care of a Siamese cat.

But, uh, this is new.

Really? You think I don't know who sent you?

I know why I'm here.

I don't think you do.

You were hired to k*ll me.

Mm-mm.

Then who the hell are you?

I'm...

Well, I'm... The Surgeon.

The serial k*ller? I didn't come up with the name.

It's actually kind of embarrassing.

I mean, it's not the worst moniker.

If you're The Surgeon, that means you're smart.

I could be of value to you... alive.

Well, of course alive.

Now, back to the business at hand.

Let me tell you a story about money, influence, power.

That sound interesting to you?

Give me one hour. That's it.

So, let me see.

Uh... to save your life, you're gonna cut a deal with me, a serial k*ller?

I'm not exactly a good man.

You don't get it.

I know worse.

Okay.

One hour.

Tell me everything.

It was quite a story.

A story? What does that even mean?

I just want to find her body.

Tell us what you did with Sophie.

Oh. I thought it was obvious.

She... she convinced me to let her go.

Oh, your sister was very persuasive.

What are you going to do?

I'm saving your life.

You're lying.

If Sophie was alive, I would know.

She's my sister.

She would've found me, and...

Well, I... I gave you plenty of warning.

It's not my fault she never reached out to you, that you've been chasing someone who doesn't want to be found.

It's cruel. I know.

But then, the truth often is.

Look, I just really hope that this hasn't put a damper on things between you two.

I know meeting the parents is always complicated, and trust me, I'm the nice one.

I can't. I just can't.

Why?

If that's the truth, why deny Sophie's existence?

Why the gaslighting, the chloroform?

Trust me, Malcolm, I'm being a good father here.

I'm protecting you by stopping you.

Now, you go and do the same thing for Eve.

If you love her, stop her.

Please, I have resources. I can help.

I have resources, too. I need to do this alone.

We can find her together. You need my help.

I was so naive.

I actually thought The Surgeon couldn't hurt me.

This is what he does. He drives a wedge...

Is that what you really think?

Or do you believe him?

Is my sister still alive?

You've been studying him your whole life.

You know when he's telling the truth, don't you?

Was that the truth?

Yeah, I-I think so.

That's why I have to go.

This isn't your search anymore.

It's mine.

I'm sorry.

Goodbye.

That is a fascinating story, Sophie.

Oh, you are in quite a bit of trouble, aren't you?

I have proof of everything.

Documents, files.

You know, your lifestyle comes with certain risks.

Information like this might come in handy one day.

My son's up.

I can't let him see you like this.

Imagine what damage that might do to a young child's psyche.

No, no, no. You have to believe me.

Nicholas Endicott is a monster.

Jessica.

Shall we?