05x11 - Days of Wine & Roses

[bunniefuu]

Previously on "The Mentalist"...

Agent Lisbon, Tommy Volker.

I've got somebody here who says Cassie Flood was m*rder*d by Tommy Volker.

Show Volker this sketch and watch his face.

Do you recognize this man?

Agent, I know you're under a lot of pressure right now.

So I don't want you to worry that you've offended me in any way.

You don't know what he's like.

Amanda, I promise nothing is gonna happen to you as long as you do the right thing.

(Gasping)

She left a su1c1de note, you know... laying blame at your feet.

You will not get away with this.

I promise.

What did you want to see me about?

A warrant for Thomas Volker's personal and business records.

I've already ruled on that.

But we've got fresh evidence.

We believe that Thomas Volker was involved in k*lling this reporter, Cassie Flood.

She was investigating Volker Industries' involvement in the m*ssacre of a South American village.

Right. I remember.

I convinced his assistant, Amanda Shaw, to testify against him, and he k*lled her for it.

Made it look like a su1c1de.

Okay, saying it does not make it so.

Yes, but I ordered a second autopsy, by a forensic pathologist who specializes in su1c1de.

The ligature marks on Amanda's neck are not consistent with su1c1de by hanging.

She was m*rder*d.

You know, I'm surprised that you got Gail Bertram to cough up for a second opinion on a closed case.

He didn't. I paid for it myself.

Agent Lisbon, why are you doing this?

He's a m*rder*r. If we follow the money, we'll find who he paid to k*ll these women.

Mnh. Why are you doing this?

I looked Amanda Shaw in the eye and I promised I'd protect her.

I failed.

I know that you've heard this before, but you are not responsible for her death.

I respectfully disagree.

I need to make this right.

This report gives us plenty for a warrant.

(Exhales) All right.

You do realize that Volker Industries is one of the biggest employers in the state, and that Tommy Volker is a huge supporter of the governor?

Yes, and that they're also good friends.

That's why I came to you, because I know that you won't be threatened by a man's status or connections.

Well, this... report does change things.

I'm inclined to open up the door a cr*ck, but just a cr*ck.

Don't make me regret it, Agent Lisbon.

Lisbon, you're distracted and you have an eager gleam in your eye.

Either you have a breakthrough in the Volker case, or you're in love. Which is it?

I got Judge Davis to sign the warrant, and Van Pelt should be getting Volker's records momentarily.

I was hoping it was love.

You deserve happiness, but I'm glad for you anyway.

(Police radio chatter)

Jane Doe. No wallet, phone, or ID.

Sanitation workers found the body around 6:00 a.m.

Designer clothes. Sample size.

She's as tall as a giraffe.

A model. Looks like a mugging gone wrong.

M.E. says blunt force trauma to the head.

Puts time of death around midnight, give or take a few hours.

Mm. She's wearing a very sensual perfume.

Expensive, with a top note of jasmine.

Oh... and she's just shaved her legs.

I think she was going to meet a lover.

Rigsby, you're on trash duty.

Whoever stole the wallet may have taken the money out and dumped it.

See if you can find an ID.

Copy that.

Jane, let's talk to the first responders.

Oh, as fun as that might sound, I think I'd rather play some chess.

No offense.

Lisbon: Gentlemen.

(Birds chirping)

Single-malt whiskey.

You have very good taste, uh...

Walter.

Walter. Don't mind me.

(Clicks)

Uh, no disrespect, but your Grunfeld defense is no match for Walter's classic Spanish game.

(Lowered voice) If you let me play for you, I might win your money back.

Thanks, man.

(Normal voice) Pleasure.

Good luck with that.

Uh...

(Inhales sharply)

Mate in seven.

(Laughs)

A sucker born every minute.

What'd you do with the wallet?

What wallet?

(Clicks)

The one you took from the dead girl. (Clicks)

(Scoffs) What makes you think that?

Because you're not nearly a good enough chess player to win enough money to buy nice scotch like that. (Clicks)

Oh, no?

(Clicks)

No.

(Clicks)

Checkmate. In seven.

You can tell us about the wallet now, or we can find the wallet with your prints on it and bring you down to the CBI. It's your choice.

Mm-hmm.

Aw, yeah.

(Claps) Who's got next?

♪ The Mentalist 5x11 ♪
Days of Wine and Roses
Original Air Date on January 6, 2013

Victim's name was Charlotte Coates.

21, goes by Charlie.

Daughter of Congressman Coates from the 54th district.

And Jane was right. She was an up-and-coming model.

What else do we know?

About a month ago, she was pulled over.

Cop found an 8-ball of cocaine on her.

She was arrested for possession.

Was she charged?

She pled guilty, agreed to go to rehab.

She was on day 26 of a 30-day program.

Place called, uh, Oasis Ranch.

Inpatient. So she checked out of rehab the night of her death?

Snuck out.

Park's a drug zone. Probably went there to score.

What about the wallet guy?

No, he was at a homeless shelter from 7:00 p.m. to 6:00 a.m. Couldn't have done it.

SFPD's canvassing the area for witnesses.

Anything else?

She didn't have a phone, because the rehab confiscated it, so now we don't know if she called anyone before sneaking out.

Before rehab, she sent a bunch of angry texts to one number.

"Screw you for betraying me. You are a bastard."

Like that. And did you trace the number?

Yeah. Belongs to a photographer called Mo Kaan.

All right. Look into him.

Jane and I are gonna go talk to the parents.

All right.

(File thuds)

I want you to understand— she was a good girl.

The dr*gs were just a phase.

When did she start using?

Um, a few years ago when she started modeling.

As a child, she was always so shy and sensitive, like the volume was turned up too high in her head.

I knew modeling was a tough business, and lots of rejection.

(Sniffles)

I never should have let her do it.

But you did let her do it, and—and the role of bad cop fell to you.

You could say that.

She put us through a lot.

You—you were about to mention something else.

What was it?

Well, I guess there's no reason we can't say it now.

A month ago, she stole a necklace from her mother.

A very expensive ruby necklace.

Don't say that, Jeffrey.

I told you, Charlie couldn't have done it.

Maria was the only person who knew where I had that necklace hidden.

Maria?

She was our maid. But we had to let her go.

Our daughter loved Maria.

She would never have let me fire her for something she didn't do.

Uh, can you think of anyone who may have wanted to hurt your daughter?

Who knows, with the people that she was hanging out with.

(Crying)

If you think of anything, give us a call.

(Fan whirring)

Stella, sweetheart...

You look like an angry stick insect.

Relax. Think of Brazil... or wherever it is you're from.

Uruguay. Uruguay! Fabulous!

Work it! Work it!

Yeah, that's right. That's right. (Shutter clicking)

You're a dirty little Cossack.

Yes, that perestroika!

That's it.

Mo Kaan. I'm Agent Cho.

This is Agent Rigsby, CBI.

(Fan clicks off)

We are in the middle of something here.

Can I help you?

Yeah. Charlie Coates was m*rder*d last night.

My God.

Everyone take five!

(Crew murmuring)

Uh, Charlie, uh, Charlie was one of the good ones.

Smart kid.

Where were you last night?

I was at dinner with a client.

And then after that, I was sh**t' Estella at some dirty little hotel in the tenderloin— the Seventh Veil.

At the corner of Geary and Hyde?

Yeah.

Charlie was k*lled two blocks from there.

Can anyone confirm your whereabouts?

Sure. Everybody here.

What were those angry texts about?

What angry texts?

The ones we found on Charlie's phone accusing you of betrayal.

Oh. Those.

Nothing, really.

A few weeks ago, Charlie's agent fired her, and she blamed me. She thought I told him she was a no-show after partying all night. (Sniffs)

And did you tell him?

Please.

If I got every crazy, coked-up model fired, I'd have no one to take pictures of.

Mm.

Speaking of coke, empty your pockets.

What?

Empty your pockets.

Why?

This isn't Russia. You need a reason.

You're acting high, you're sniffing compulsively, and you're wearing a coke spoon.

It's hers.

Slow down, hoss. We haven't found anything yet.

Mm.

Honestly, I was just holding it for her.

You're under arrest.

(Handcuffs rattle)

(Door opens)

Hello.

I'm Dr. Rubin, executive director.

Hi.

I'm so glad you're here. We are all in shock.

So you—you're a psychiatrist?

Yes. Stanford Medical School.

Excellent. That should make things easier.

It's nearly always the psychiatrist that did it.

Had a bad experience with therapy, huh?

Were you treating Charlie personally?

No, and I have weekly sessions with all the inpatients.

I met with Charlie yesterday.

But Joanna Lyle was her primary therapist.

Saw her every day.

You can find her in the clinical building.

How did Charlie manage to sneak out and get to the city unnoticed?

Did she have a car?

Uh, no. Patients aren't allowed cars.

It's too much of a temptation.

Uh, however, this isn't a prison.

We don't have security cameras or electric fences.

In fact, we have so many high-profile patients, we're far more worried about keeping paparazzi and reporters out.

And how was Charlie's treatment going?

Frankly, uh, her spirit was willing but she didn't want to do the work.

"The work." Who could blame her?

Where were you last night?

I was... here. Working on my book.

Hmm.

I'm just trying to figure out who Charlie was sleeping with.

Was it you?

Absolutely not.

What makes you think she was sleeping with anybody?

Because this place is like a summer camp for drug addicts.

It fairly reeks of sex.

Hmm. Well, we liken early sobriety to a whack-a-mole game.

You push down one addiction, and another one pops up.

And even though we have a strict policy about it, newly sober people tend to act out sexually.

But I can't tell you who Charlie was sleeping with.

Why not?

A little thing called doctor-patient privilege.

Charlie's dead.

You're allowed to share that information with us.

And I'm allowed to protect privilege.

I see.

You're not protecting Charlie.

You're protecting someone else.

Charlie did indeed have a lover here.

They were a patient of yours.

No need to give me a name.

I can figure it out for myself.

Thank you. You've been very helpful.

We need to talk to this therapist, this Lyle woman.

I'm gonna head back to the office.

I'll have Cho come and meet you here.

Oh, I'm fine. (Cell phone rings)

No need for a chaperone.

Ugh.

(Beeps)

Hey, Van Pelt.

Could you hang on a sec?

Jane?

(Sighs) What's up?

I think I found something big.

Irregular payments from Volker Industries to a shell corporation.

Listed as consultant fees. $25,000 each.

Nice work. Who's cashing the checks?

A guy named Charles Milk.

He's clean as a whistle, but his name came up in a 2007 case, just as a witness.

One of his neighbors committed su1c1de. A woman.

Let me guess—hung herself like Amanda Shaw?

Exactly.

And I got a picture of him.

Matches the sketch of the driver we were looking for in the Cassie Flood case.

Great work. I'm headed back to the office now.

Start writing the warrant for the Milk residence.

I want to catch him by surprise.

You got it, boss.

And tell Cho to get over here.

Dr. Lyle?

Yes.

Patrick Jane.

With the CBI.

Uh, please, call me Joanna.

And I'm not actually a doctor.

But you were Charlie's drug counselor, yes?

Yes. Poor girl.

Have a seat.

Thank you.

Yes, it seems that she, uh... she broke out to buy some coke.

Is that a... is that a black mark against you?

As a therapist, I'd like to think that I can help my patients get sober.

But as a recovering alcoholic, I know I can't make someone stop before they're ready.

There but for the Grace of God.

Mm. Well, let's leave God out of it, shall we?

Uh, Charlie wasn't exactly a model patient, was she?

She had a good heart.

She just made it very clear that she didn't want to be here.

She wouldn't open up to me.

She, uh, she wouldn't participate in group...

Excuse me... (Yawns)

Rough night?

I've been, uh...

I've been on call this week working overnights, and we discovered that Charlie was missing from her room at about 2:00 a.m.

And I've been up ever since.

Running on coffee and cigarettes, huh?

Oh, coffee, yes, but I haven't smoked in years.

Oh. Well, excuse me.

Could you show me Charlie's room?

Yes, of course. Thank you.

(Bell dings)

What's up?

Did you fill out the application for the Milk warrant?

I submitted it to Judge Davis, but...

What?

It's Volker. He's here.

Agent Lisbon.

(Door closes) What do you want, Mr. Volker?

Brass tacks.

I like that.

As I'm sure you're aware, I run a very successful business worth billions of dollars.

You wanna know my secret?

Transparency.

Honesty.

Open lines of communication.

It's the way I do business.

What's your point?

If you wanted my financial records, all you had to do was ask for them.

I got nothing to hide.

You found nothing, right?

Why? Is there something you're worried about?

Next time...

Just ask.

You look good.

You've been working out.

Get out of my office.

Have a lovely day, Agent Lisbon.

(Door closes)

(Indistinct conversations)

(Speaking indistinctly)

Hey, Cho. You're freaking out the guests.

(Whispers) Just relax with the copness.

I'm relaxed.

Here we are.

(Knocks)

Susie?

Hey. How you holding up?

Okay, I guess.

Shouldn't you be in group?

You should go.

Talk about what happened with Charlie, your feelings.

Hi. You were her roommate?

Yeah. Who are you?

Uh, Susie, these guys are here with the CBI to investigate what happened with Charlie.

That's Patrick Jane. I'm Agent Cho.

Jane as in Austen or Mansfield?

(Laughs)

Austen.

What are you here for?

Coke. Speed. Some pills. Mm-hmm.

Mm. Ambitious.

So Charlie was a tea drinker?

No. Those are mine.

Did you see Charlie sneaking out last night?

Yes. I didn't think anything of it.

She sneaks out all the time.

Joanna: Susie, you should have reported it.

It's a major breach of the honor system.

I know, I know.

I'm gonna have to tell Dr. Rubin about it.

Come on. Are you serious?

Cho: What time did she sneak out?

I don't know. Around 10:00, I guess.

You know where she was going?

I have no idea. We weren't that close.

Mmm. Jasmine.

Uh, Dr. Lyle, where is that group therapy session going down?

Uh, just down the hall.

Thank you. Thanks.

My name is Armando and I'm an addict.

(Patients) Hi, Armando.

But I mean, not like you guys. No offense.

My life's a party.

Champagne. Fine women.

Translation—light beer and cheap hookers.

Hey, now.

Yo. Why the hostility, man?

I'm only being honest here, right?

See this watch? Girls gave this stuff to me.

And that's my problem.

I'm addicted to women.

Excuse me. Uh, sorry to interrupt just when it was getting good.

Uh, my name is Patrick Jane.

I'm a consultant with the CBI.

We're investigating the m*rder of Charlie Coates.

Uh, and, uh, I need your help.

Okay.

You may not think...

You know anything of interest, but the subconscious mind knows a lot more.

That's why I'm gonna ask you all, as a group, to close your eyes and picture Charlie.

Uh, I want you to think about the last time you saw Charlie.

Every detail counts.

Her laugh. The color of her eyes.

Her perfume.

(Inhales)

Every little detail.

Okay. Thank you.

Now if you'll open your eyes.

(Snaps fingers)

(Inhales sharply)

It appears you two are intimately familiar with her scent. But Charlie doesn't strike me as a two-timer. So one of you was the boyfriend, and the other one, well, he was hoping. Let me see. You seem to have a way with women. I would guess that Charlie may have been drawn to your machismo. She found you irresistible.

Maybe. But you know.

Hmm. You were sleeping together?

No.

Uh, you—you're lying. You were sleeping together. I can tell.

No. No. Yes.

I mean, I tried, of course, but...

You bastard!

And here comes the real boyfriend.

Aah!

(Thud)

Woman: Aah!

(Glass shatters)

Uh... uh... Uh, just back away there. I-I was just kidding. (Punches landing)

He wasn't actually sleeping with her. Just...

Cho! Cho!

Armando: I didn't even touch her! Get off me! Get off me, man!

Whew!

Phoenix Bell.

Your father's Anton Bell. Starred in those action movies back in the '80s, right?

And who's your father? Is he relevant also?

Point taken. Tell me about you and Charlie.

She was funny and strong and... real.

But fragile, too.

Not like these girls I meet in L.A.

I know the doctors say she didn't want to get better, but she did.

She made me want to get better, too.

We talked to your roommate, Phoenix.

He says you snuck out of your room at 11:00 on the night Charlie d*ed and didn't come home until 1:00 in the morning.

Where were you?

We had this spot where we'd meet out in the desert.

That night we were supposed to hook up at 11:00, but Charlie didn't show.

What'd you do?

I freaked out.

I thought that she was over me, or she had relapsed or something.

So I took a drive.

You have a car?

My dad pulled a few strings, got me some extra privileges. Whatever.

Where'd you go?

Just around.

Then I went to a liquor store.

You get loaded?

No.

I wanted to.

Anyone see you there?

No.

But you have to believe me.

All the bad things I've done in my life, I would never hurt Charlie.

Right. Can you think of anyone who would?

I don't know.

A few nights ago, we were in our spot, and we saw somebody spying on us from far away.

You went after them?

Yeah, but I didn't even get close.

If she would have just come that night, maybe I could have helped her.

Phoenix had access to a car.

He has no alibi for the time of death.

And his story about someone spying on them is sketchy.

You think he made it up?

No, someone was watching Phoenix and Charlie.

The question is who?

Son of a movie star, daughter of a politician.

Could have been the paparazzi.

What about Armando?

No, he had an alibi for the night of the m*rder.

His roommate was up all night listening to him snore.

Rigs, where are we at with the photographer?

He's been in holding overnight.

Good, go talk to him.

Find out where Phoenix was between 11:00 and 1:00.

We'll hold on to him for as long as we can.

I have an idea. I'm gonna go back to rehab.

You wanna come with?

I've got a hit on Volker.

I think I found his enforcer.

He's a guy named Charles Milk.

I'm waiting to get a warrant on his residence.

Bravo.

There's no way this guy is as smart or as careful as Volker. I can turn him.

Excellent police work, Lisbon.

I admire your pluck.

I hear a "but, "

No "but." I'm just a little worried that he's inside your head. And believe me, that's not a good road to go down. Bad neighborhood.

I think you can understand, I don't really have a choice.

Well, yeah, I can certainly understand that.

I just... I-I want you to be careful.

He may be powerful, but he is not invincible.

And he's not in my head.

I hope not.

If you need my help, let me know.

No, thanks. This one's mine.

Yeah, you got this.

Hey, boss, I just got a call.

The judge denied the search warrant for Milk.

Judge Davis, I just need a minute.

I'm late for an appointment.

I need you to reconsider signing the Charles Milk warrant, please.

It's not going to happen.

Why not?

We have clear evidence of payment for the commission of m*rder.

(Scoffs)

Spare me the hyperbole.

You have murky evidence of payments for consulting.

Frankly, we had less before you signed the last warrant.

What happened between then and now?

(Zips)

Did he get to you?

I'm gonna pretend I didn't just hear that.

He did, didn't he?

That's why he came to see me, to show he wasn't scared.

You know what?

I'm not gonna sit here and listen to your accusations, nor am I gonna get dragged any further into your personal vendetta.

Now...

If you will excuse me.

I bet you loved to watch Charlie beg.

I don't know what you're getting at.

Well, you can't seem to stay out of trouble.

Underage girls, dr*gs.

It's not... my fault.

You know what I think?

I think Charlie was gonna meet you the night she snuck out of rehab.

She wanted dr*gs, you wanted sex, things got a little weird.

You didn't mean to hurt her, but you did.

So you took her body to the park, made it look like a random drug deal.

No— Just another model with a coke habit.

No. None of none of that happened.

No. That's not true, okay?

I don't...

I don't wanna be here anymore now.

I wanna go home now, please.

(Cell phone rings)

(Beeps)

Hello, Grace. Do you have anything?

I set an alert for the name Phoenix Bell, and I'm checking all social media and gossip sites.

Nothing so far.

But I've learned a lot about Lindsay Lohan.

Mm. Can you try again, please?

Sure. Give me a minute.

(Exhales)

Refill, please, Luis?

Another rough one?

Oh, these overnights will be the death of me.

Mm. But I shouldn't complain.

I live halfway to Reno.

So at least it's a break from the commute, right?

Mm.

Mm. Well, cheers. Cheers.

Are you there, Jane?

I found something.

Excuse me. Mm-hmm.

Uh, yes, Grace. Sorry. Go on.

The gossip site Rumorhound just re-tweeted this—

"Phoenix Bell, son of movie star Anton Bell, "suspect in m*rder of his girlfriend.

The two met at infamous rehab Oasis Ranch."

Who was the, uh, tweeterer... er?

Someone named Margaret Hammersby.

She's a journalist.

Excellent.

Hi, Susie.

Could I bother you for a cup of tea?

Sure. Come on in.

Thank you.

(Door closes)

Would you like chamomile or mint?

Chamomile, please.

(Burbles)

Water's hot.

There you go.

That's very kind.

Thanks, Margaret.

You're welcome.

Oh, fudge.

(Birds chirping)

Your real name is Margaret Hammersby.

You're a journalist.

How did you find out?

Well, only a journalist would ask the correct spelling of my name.

"Mansfield." Please.

And what self-respecting speed freak drinks herbal tea?

I have to be undercover in order to get this story.

Mm. Woodward and Bernstein you are not, my dear.

You're tweeting trivia about celebrities— sons of celebrities— like Phoenix Bell.

That's a big scoop. I had to tweet it.

That was you spying on them the other night.

I only followed them out that one time.

I swear, I have no idea where she was going the night she d*ed.

She didn't really open up to me. Not really.

She got emotional when she got this card from her parents.

Oh. This card?

Yeah. She cried like a baby.

"We're so proud of you."

When did she get this?

Three days ago. The day before she d*ed.

After she got the card, she started writing this letter in Spanish, but then she got frustrated and ripped it up.

And then you promptly dug it out of the trash, didn't you?

Yes, I did.

But I don't speak Spanish.

The only thing I can remember is "lo siento."

That means "I'm sorry."

Excellent. You've been very helpful.

You're not gonna blow my cover, are you?

Well, that's for me to know and for you to find out.

You know, you don't have to stick around.

I can meet you back at CBI.

I'm supposed to stay with you.

(Dialing) What kind of trouble am I gonna get in at rehab?

(Beeps)

(Lock clicks)

(Door closes)

The photographer asked for a lawyer.

I think he might be good for this.

He's more than just ironically pervy.

Agreed.

And the sexual motive is always a good one.

But, uh, you can let him go. Phoenix, too.

(Pours)

You have better motive?

Uh, yeah.

An extremely valuable ruby necklace is a pretty good one.

But we don't have any evidence that Charlie actually stole the necklace from her mother.

She was broke. Of course she stole it.

Then she got that card from her parents and she started to feel bad about it.

Where are you getting all this?

The undercover journalist told me that Charlie started writing a letter in Spanish to say "lo siento"

Which means "I'm sorry"?

Yes. She was trying to make amends with Maria, the maid that was fired for stealing the necklace.

But we never found the necklace in Charlie's apartment or her room at the Oasis Ranch.

Because the k*ller stole it from her.

Okay, wait. If Charlie did steal the necklace and felt guilty about it, don't you think she would have confided in someone?

(Cell phone rings) Yes, that's exactly what I think.

(Beeps)

Hello?

Dr. Rubin.

What's that?

Uh, well, thank you for letting us know.

We'll be there shortly.

(Beeps)

Apparently there was a rash of robberies earlier today.

A lot of the patients got their valuables stolen.

(Gasps) Imagine that.

They're gonna search the rooms to find the thief.

Oh, my. We should head out there, Lisbon.

I'm sorry. I can't. I-I'll meet you there later.

So mysterious.

Let me see— Thursday night.

Ah. You're going to play poker.

Get one of those muckety-mucks to sign off on your warrant.

It's worth a sh*t.

If this doesn't work, I don't know what I'm gonna do.

Eh, we'll think of something. Good luck.

Let's see what you got, Senator.

Full house.

Mm.

You've bled me dry.

(Chips clink)

I need a drink.

(Indistinct conversations)

Excuse me, sir.

I need to discuss something with you.

I'm in no mood, Agent Lisbon.

I don't want to bother you, I hate to, but this is important.

Let me guess—

Tommy Volker and the Charles Milk warrant.

You heard.

Judge Davis mentioned something about your little visit.

She said you had some nerve.

I was upset. I spoke in haste.

No need to apologize to me.

Oh, I don't want to apologize. Davis was wrong.

(Chuckles)

I mean, Volker is a sociopath, and he needs to be taken down.

If not by me, then by somebody else.

Sometimes you are childishly naive, Teresa.

That might be so, but which side would you rather be on?

Childish naivete, or defeated cynicism?

Ouch.

Please, sign the Milk warrant, Judge.

It's legit.

The only reason not to is fear.

Doctor.

We're here to help you search.

Do you think the robberies could have something to do with this case?

Maybe. We won't know until we search the room first.

Well, this isn't the first time we've had things stolen.

It's quite common, in fact.

It's another way for addicts to act out in early sobriety.

You and your fancy diagnoses.

When people want stuff, they take it.

It's as simple as that.

Now let's get to searching, shall we?

This place isn't gonna search itself.

Mm.

(Joanna speaking indistinctly)

What are you doing?

What?

Put it back.

Shh.

Put it back.

What are you talking about?

I'm trying to search here.

Could you just be a little quiet?

Excuse me. Excuse me.

What's going on?

I'm sorry, Doctor.

Jane's had some problems, uh... taking stuff.

Oh. Well, that's the first I've ever heard of that.

Well, in that case, let's empty your pocket.

No, I will not.

Don't make this any worse than it is.

Empty your pockets right now.

Wow. That's...

Can't believe I couldn't feel that in there.

That's not mine. I didn't— that's—that's not my wallet.

I think we should reconvene in my office for a little chat. Keith, Marvin, would you escort Mr. Jane to the office?

Watch the suit.

I got here as soon as I could.

Kleptomania is a disease, and you need help.

Oh, please.

I've told him that, but he won't listen.

It's not your fault. There is nothing to be ashamed of.

Yeah, see, the last thing I need is some new age nonsense rattling around inside my head.

Jane, I don't think you understand how much trouble you're in.

They could press charges. No, hang on.

We're not there yet. We're not there yet.

I wanna hear from Mr. Jane.

You're not even a real doctor.

I don't have to talk to you.

Jane...

It couldn't hurt.

Please?

Okay.

I like to take stuff, and I'm good at it.

I don't see what the big deal is.

Well, this behavior doesn't come from nowhere.

No. You're right.

When I was 10, my father taught me to pick pockets, and we, uh, knocked off a few houses.

And, uh, and then we... moved on to a couple of banks.

But I didn't—the banks was not my cup of tea.

I don't like the banks 'cause of the anxiety and the screaming and all the hysteria.

It doesn't sit well with me. Hmm.

So subconsciously, you're still trying to please your father, hmm?

Yeah.

(Voice breaking) Yeah. That's, uh...

How do you do that?

That is uncanny.

Jane...

(Cell phone rings)

Hmm.

(Cell phone beeps)

Hello, Cho?

(Sighs) Whoa.

A ruby necklace?

Really? Thanks.

(Cell phone beeps)

They just found an expensive ruby necklace in your car.

You wanna explain how it got there?

Not really.

Thank you. But this is a police matter now.

If you two wouldn't mind giving me a moment alone with Jane.

Yes, of course. We'll leave you alone.

You definitely should continue therapy.

Mm. I-I can make a referral.

Thanks, Doc.

I mean, I-I... I feel better already.

Thank you.

(fire crackling)

(Switch clicks)

(Gasps)

Busted.

(Exhales)

You're in massive debt.

Cash advances, credit cards, home equity loans.

What is it?

Craps? Roulette?

Those are for suckers.

I have skill.

Ah. BlackJack then.

How did you know?

Well, you told Jane you didn't smoke, and yet the inside of your office smelled like a casino ashtray.

And you referred to home as being "halfway to Reno."

It started... years ago, after I stopped drinking.

Good, clean fun, right?

But it got out of control.

I lost my house, b*rned through my kid's college fund, and I still couldn't stop.

How did you pay for it?

I started borrowing money from people.

Bad people.

They were going to hurt me.

So you heard about the necklace and you saw a way out.

Charlie had this— this... moment of clarity after she got that stupid card.

She, uh... came into therapy, told me she had stolen the necklace.

She had tried to sell it, but she didn't have the right connections.

And then she wanted to give it back to her parents. (Sniffles)

And you were the only person she told.

She said she wanted to make amends, but come on.

It was a quarter of a million dollars.

I needed it.

I convinced her to sneak out, go back to her place to get the jewels.

(Crying)

(Door closes)

I said that she should give them back to her parents at her 30-day chip ceremony, that I was... proud of her.

I pulled over, told her I thought I had a flat.

I'd heard about that park from some of my other patients, that it was a place to score.

(Door closes)

(Both grunt)

(Blows landing)

I knew how it would look.

So you k*lled her and you took the necklace back to Oasis Ranch, and you let her parents believe that she d*ed buying dr*gs.

I'm powerless.

It's a disease.

(Exhales)

(Exhales)

Checkmate.

I got Manchester to sign the warrant.

I'm going to meet Van Pelt.

Huh. Excellent police work prevails yet again.

Grieving parents at 12:00.

Mr. Jane, thank you.

Thank you, sir.

Oh. Much appreciated. It's my pleas—

Um, alth I'll leave you to it.

I have something for you.

Your necklace.

Charlie was trying to get it back for you.

Thank you.

I want you to know that your daughter changed.

She knew that she hurt you both, and she wanted to make it right.

She loved you.

(Exhales)

Our baby.

Our poor baby.

(Clicks tongue)

(Cell phone rings and beeps)

Lisbon.

Hello, Teresa. How are you today?

Fantastic, actually.

Oh, I can imagine.

The thrill of the chase and all that.

I'm not sure I know what you're referring to, Mr. Volker.

Oh, don't be modest.

I'm calling to congratulate you.

The warrant for Charles Milk.

How did you know about that?

Oh, I have my ways.

At any rate, you won't find what you're looking for.

Charles Milk did a few personal security jobs for me, nothing more.

But, hey, he's a great guy.

I'm sure you'll enjoy him.

If that's it, I've got another call.

By all means, you should take that.

(Beeps)

Van Pelt, I'm on my way.

We're too late.

(Exhales)

(Train horn blowing)

(Railroad crossing dinging)

Officer: We've just ID'd them all.

(Police radio chatter)

We've got a married couple, Bob and Sylvia Miller, and this gentleman is Charles Milk.

What happened here?

Drive-by sh**ting. Some g*ng b.s. These three were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Uh, Lisbon?

Jane... I need your help.

Mm.

(Railroad crossing dinging, train horn blowing)

(Police radio chatter)

Stay tuned for scenes from our next episode.