[Angie] How are you feeling?
[Wynter] Like I'm gonna win.
[Angie] You never win.
But I'm feeling
like I'm gonna win.
Ha! How'd you get
so bad at this?
[both laugh]
- [Angie] Ah.
- [Wynter sighs]
Practice. You won't believe
this but when I was a kid,
I had a magnetic backgammon
set I used to play in the car.
I would lose to my father
while he was driving.
[chuckles] He couldn't even see
the board and I would still lose.
I definitely believe that.
Why wouldn't I believe that?
His birthday today.
Your dad?
Yeah, just realizing that.
Well, happy birthday,
Papa Wynter.
- Run it back?
- Mm-hmm.
He'd be...
[sarcastic] Thanks.
- [chuckles] I'm just doing the math.
- Great.
How long ago did you lose him?
Ah, sh*t.
- [poignant music playing]
- I'm sorry, A.B.
How old were you?
Eleven.
He and my mom died in a
car crash when I was 11.
[Angie sighs sadly]
It wasn't the
backgammon. Don't worry.
They were good parents.
[sighs softly]
You're always giving me sh*t.
"Why don't you have a family?"
That's why.
I had
a family.
Why were you always letting me
run my mouth like that, A.B.?
- So you'd feel terrible.
- Well, I do. I do.
I should probably hold
on this one, actually.
Got to go make this night happen. Try
not to k*ll someone. Or get k*lled.
Hey.
You do have a family.
You know that, right?
All of this here.
All of this here.
[Wynter breathes deeply]
[brisk instrumental
music playing]
Mr. Wynter.
[Wynter] George. George.
George.
- No allergies?
- She said no allergies.
Excellent.
[phone ringing]
Who are you?
[Tripp] I want A.B.
Wynter up here now!
Because my f*ck'
toilet's clogged!
[robotically] You are old man robot
from Planet Usher, so... [fades]
- [TV volume increases]
- [Wynter] I'm sending up an engineer.
- To fix the toilet.
- Thank you.
And I'm gonna talk to your
brother in the morning.
[Tripp yells]
I am trying to do something great,
but you have never understood that.
And if you get in my way
again, I am going to k*ll you!
[Lilly] Helen, no,
do not f*ck with me.
I have half of f*cking
Australia coming to this party.
I need Harry Styles
here tonight.
We're screwed! Nobody wants
to play in this shitty house.
[guests chattering]
[music continues]
[phone ringing]
- Yes?
- [Haney] We have a problem on the floor.
Valentina Motta. Lorenzo,
please let me handle this.
- Just let them go.
- It is against White House protocol.
- Who f*cking cares?
- I care.
Did I just hear we don't
have a musical guest?
Please pardon my interruption.
We have a cancellation.
- Uh, yes, okay.
- I'll arrange it. The Lincoln Bedroom.
[Melody sneezes repeatedly]
- [Melody sneezes]
- [Jeffrey] Bullshit!
I follow every single protocol.
I asked you about no allergies.
Get these flowers out of here.
- Why do I have to clean up Tripp's mess?
- Would you give us a moment?
Why am I... Eddie could have... I was
pulled out of my son's birthday...
...this is what I
talk about when...
- [overlapping speech]
- ...f*cking job...
- [music continues]
- [Wynter sighs wearily]
[Lilly] Rollie, switch. Actually,
Rollie, switch these two.
Excuse me. Thank you.
A.B., there's a crash
outside the South Gate.
...right over there. We have
agents on it now checking it out.
- Sheila's sitting...
- [Rollie] What is she doing?
- You're off the floor.
- You know what? f*ck you, A.B.!
[music continues]
There's a problem
with the kangaroos.
You are not going to
take away my kangaroos!
- I haven't taken anything away from you.
- Not you.
Him!
- [knocking at door]
- [music pauses]
[Wynter yells] ...not going to talk to me
like that! No! I'm going to expose you!
- I am going to tell them everything!
- [music resumes]
Everything!
[Harry sighs]
[Wynter sighs]
Oh, the man I wanted to see. I spoke
to Marvella about the desserts...
I'm not leaving. I can't
leave the house like this.
Not after tonight.
[music continues]
Elsyie, A.B. needs you to prep the
Lincoln Bedroom for Kylie Minogue.
- Okay.
- Thank you.
Mr. Foreign Minister,
everything okay?
[phone ringing]
Hello? Give me five minutes.
I am going to be dead
by the end of the night.
You need to get
off the floor now.
Don't worry about it.
Get it later. Let's go.
[music continues]
- [phone vibrates]
- [Wynter sighs]
- Hello?
- [Wynter] Meet me in the Yellow Oval Room.
You are old man robot...
- I am going to k*ll you!
- Nobody wants to play...
- This is what I talk about...
- Not you. Him!
f*ck you, A.B.!
[Wynter sighs]
[music continues]
[Park] You think it
happened here in this room?
[Cupp] I am now convinced of it.
[music continues]
[music fades]
[Filkins] Detective
Cupp? Are you ready?
I have to catch a flight.
Yes, I understand. We're
ready if you're ready.
It's a Giant Antpitta.
What's a Giant Antpitta?
- The bird I'm going to see. My flight.
- [Filkins] Oh. Okay. Great.
{\an8}That sounds like, uh, such
a very large Antpitta.
{\an8}Huge compared to the other
tracheophone suboscine birds.
{\an8}It... it's big.
{\an8}I appreciate you appearing before
this committee today, Detective Cupp.
{\an8}As you know,
we've been looking into the death of
White House Chief Usher A.B. Wynter.
I've heard.
When we began these hearings,
the investigation was closed,
and officially,
Mr. Wynter's death
was ruled a suicide.
In fact, we learned over the course
of some difficult hearings...
Senators!
...for which I accept
full responsibility,
that the story of Mr. Wynter's
death was much more...
[Filkins inhales]
...complicated.
Unfortunately, we also learned that a
little late as you had already left.
[Cupp] To find a Giant Antpitta.
The largest of the
tracheophone suboscine birds,
as I understand it.
- Yes.
- [Filkins] But now you're back.
And you agreed to come here
today on your way to the airport,
to report that a suspect has been
detained in your investigation.
- That's correct, Senator.
- And the name of this suspect?
[Cupp inhales]
We are in a closed session
here, Detective Cupp.
Given the sensitivity
of the proceedings.
Yes. Okay.
But... don't you wanna hear
how I figured it all out?
[curious music playing]
[music intensifies]
[music fades]
[sprightly music playing]
Something's missing from
the Yellow Oval Room.
- Yes.
- A vase. One of a set.
French porcelain. From 1823.
You haven't seen it since October 11th.
The night Mr. Wynter was found dead.
That's right.
And you won't. It's
broken. I'm sorry.
Detective Cupp, that's not the
only thing missing from the room.
Oh, I know.
I'm looking for a clock.
Okay. Sure.
Hmm. Oh.
How about this one?
No. A specific clock.
Oh. Oh, I see.
Every room has as a clock on the
mantel. But not in the Yellow Oval Room.
Oh, that clock?
The Franklin clock?
- No. It's gone.
- Do you know where it is?
- No. We looked everywhere.
- Do you have a picture?
- That's a big clock.
- Yes.
- Can I take this?
- No.
- The yellow roses?
- In a large vase by the door.
Yes, I remember
those. Of course.
They were... distressed.
- I wouldn't say distressed.
- What would you say?
- I would say burned.
- Burned?
Those were beautiful
fresh flowers
and they were fully
desiccated two days later.
- Burned.
- What would do that?
Something violent.
Contact herbicide.
- Paraquat, maybe.
- Paraquat?
- That'd be my guess.
- Is that something you keep here?
Do I keep industrial weed
k*ller in my small flower shop
where I make pretty bouquets?
Is that the question?
Unfortunately, yes.
No. I do not.
But I do know where
you can find it.
Paraquat? No, not something we're
allowed to use here anymore.
Basically, any chemicals.
We were told a year ago we had to
completely detoxify all of our gardening.
- We're just "Conscious Landscaping" now.
- What does that mean?
I have no idea.
All I know is we had to get rid of
all of our pesticides like paraquat.
But now that I'm saying that,
I don't think anybody ever came
by to collect any of that stuff.
If I had any of it left,
it would be over here...
Oh, I guess it is still here.
- You know, that's really weird.
- Yes.
- [Emily] You know what I'm gonna say?
- I do.
So weird.
The night Mr. Wynter was k*lled,
when we were all out here together.
I felt like something had been moved
over in this area. You mentioned that.
And there is something off
about that shelf back there.
You don't know what it is,
but it's bothering you.
- There's something different.
- Oh, that.
Yes! [chuckles]
[Park clears throat]
[intriguing music playing]
[glass smashes]
Can you come with us?
[music continues]
[music fades]
Oh my God!
- Do you recognize this?
- Yes, it's from my desk. Why...
- It's hard to explain.
- I wondered where it went. Can I have it?
- No.
- It's mine.
- It has paraquat in it.
- Oh.
My sister made that for me.
Well, now it's kind
of a m*rder weapon.
Okay.
You can keep it.
I'm... I'm gonna leave.
Thank you, Emily.
[curious music playing]
- Where are we?
- We're in the Yellow Oval Room.
No, I mean, what are we doing?
We're looking for clues.
I guess what I mean
is, what is that?
It's a little tumbler.
- You see what I'm getting at?
- No.
- Generally?
- No.
[sighs]
Last night, you had Bruce
and Elsyie right there.
You were deciding
between Bruce and Elsyie.
Did Bruce k*ll A.B.
Wynter, or did Elsyie?
And now we have a little tumbler
and no Bruce and no Elsyie.
And I'm wondering... are
we getting any closer?
To what?
To figuring out who
k*lled A.B. Wynter.
Oh. Yes.
Yes!
Someone went out to that shed
the night of the State Dinner.
I think looking for poison. I
think they brought a real glass.
I think that glass fell or
broke... I don't know why...
and then they grabbed this.
They found the poison... the
paraquat... and poured it in here.
And then they picked up the phone
and called A.B. Wynter in his office.
And then they came here.
Well, there. And then here.
I saw two glasses that night.
One on the coffee table.
And one on that end table.
I suspect the one on the
end table had the poison
and was poured on the flowers.
Some of that Wynter
probably ingested.
Someone threw a vase.
I think it hit this wall.
That vase is now gone.
The other is right there. And
there are indentations here.
My guess is that it was
intended for Wynter,
and that's why he had
little cuts on his face.
And when that didn't work, that
person picked up something heavy.
Possibly the candlestick, but I
don't think that was heavy enough.
I think that candlestick
fell when Mr. Wynter...
[gasps] ...stumbled into this
table after drinking the poison.
I think the heavy
object was the clock.
There is no clock.
Exactly. And I
think this is why.
- You think the clock is the m*rder weapon?
- Yes.
You said the tumbler
was the m*rder weapon.
I said it was "kind
of" a m*rder weapon.
- So we need to find the clock.
- We do.
Do you think you
know where it is?
No. But I know one place
they definitely didn't look.
[Tripp] A clock?
No, I... I'd say no.
You know? I mean, not like
a traditional "clock clock."
Why are you putting that in
quotes? What is a "clock clock"?
- I don't wanna get in trouble.
- It's okay. We're the police.
All right.
Well, I... I do have
a nice piece in here.
More of a sculpture of a dude
with clock-like elements.
Uh... [groans]
Ah.
Why do you have that?
I took it from the Library,
all right, a while back.
And then I heard Mr. Wynter
was looking for it,
and he was already pretty upset
with me about a few things, and...
so when I heard he was leaving,
I thought, I'll wait until then
and then I'll, like, put it back.
And then that didn't happen.
So here we are.
I still can't tell
if it's cool or not.
You can't?
- What do you mean, he was leaving?
- What?
You said Mr. Wynter was
leaving and then he didn't.
- Leaving the house.
- Retiring?
- I guess.
- When was that?
I dunno. Sometime since I've been
here. What's that? A couple months?
- You've been here a year.
- f*ck, really?
- Where did you hear that?
- I don't know. Out on the floor?
Out on the floor? Do you have
a floor meeting or something?
I don't know, man. Maybe the old lady? Or
that as*h*le that works for my brother.
- That could be a lot of people.
- No, I'm talking about the as*h*le.
The world's biggest as*h*le.
What? I don't know what the
f*ck he's talking about.
That dude is crazy.
You know that, right?
- You never heard A.B. Wynter was leaving?
- No.
But I'm not really dialed
in to Residence staffing
because I'm trying to help President
Morgan run the f*cking country.
Are you close?
Because you asking me about
Wynter's retirement plans
doesn't feel like we're close.
Wait, hold on.
Actually, the night he
died, when she came up here,
and I asked her to shut everything
down, and she said no...
- Who are you talking about?
- Jasmine. Jasmine Haney.
She went on some rant about
working here 11 years...
And yes, I want to
be the Chief Usher,
and I thought I was going
to be the Chief Usher
but it was made very
clear to me tonight
that I am not going to be
the Chief Usher anytime soon.
Basically told me to go f*ck myself
until I showed her Wynter was dead.
I don't know if that's
related to him "leaving."
On the night Mr. Wynter died,
he dropped a b*mb on Jasmine.
Jasmine Haney was going to be the
next Chief Usher of the White House.
Everybody knew that. She knew that.
Mr. Wynter told her a year ago.
He was going to retire. She
was going to take his place.
But over the last year,
we all started to...
feel it slipping.
He never set an exact date,
but whatever it was seemed
to keep getting pushed back.
First, it was the holidays.
Then the terror attacks on March
Then Easter.
- Then the Fourth of July.
- Holidays are coming up again.
I could feel Jasmine getting
frustrated. I told her to hang on,
he just needed time to let go,
that it would happen soon enough,
and I believed that. I
think she believed that.
Until that night.
I'm not leaving.
I'm not retiring. For at
least a couple of years.
A b*mb.
And she was pissed.
[yelling]
[Sheila] I know. I know...
Years?! I have been waiting
years! I'm not waiting years.
You just need to talk to him.
I am done talking, okay?
Talking hasn't gotten me sh*t.
Walking around by his side,
yes sir, no sir, let me take
care of that for you, sir.
Cleaning up his f*cking messes.
She tried talking to him again,
but it didn't amount to anything.
It wasn't much of a talk.
Then she never got
another chance.
- Jasmine Haney?
- Yes.
Did that surprise you?
I'm not easily surprised.
But I will admit, it did make
things more... interesting.
I'd previously identified
a number of people
who I believed might have played
a role in Mr. Wynter's death.
And now I had one more.
This is it.
She is it.
She's the one with the cleanest, clearest,
most powerful motive. We just heard it.
And she had the access. And
it makes complete sense.
She's the one who told us everything.
Showed us everything. Shaped everything.
We're talking about all
these other people. But...
sometimes it's the thing
right in front of you.
It's the thing hiding
in plain sight.
The obvious thing.
The thing you're staring
at. You just didn't see it.
Yes, I agree.
But how exactly?
And when? And did she act alone?
Obviously, everything
makes much more sense
if there were other
people involved.
I know this is, uh, weird.
But. Did you see "m*rder
on the Orient Express"?
- The new one?
- Or the old one.
I haven't seen either one.
- Then why do you care which one?
- I read the book.
Well, I haven't read the
book. That's not the point.
- The point is, what hap...
- The book is good.
Okay, I'm sure it is.
Someday I'll read the book.
Right, uh, okay, that's weird.
Anyway, if you remember, it
turns out they all did it.
All the suspects.
And it makes me wonder...
Wait. You're agreeing with me?
What?
- When I said it was hiding in plain sight.
- Yes.
You've agreed with me before, but I
realized you were making fun of me.
Yes.
Yes. So you were making fun of me before,
but you're not making fun of me this time?
No.
I'm just going to go
back to where I started.
Sometimes it's the thing
right in front of you.
The thing hiding in plain sight.
The obvious thing. The thing
you've been staring at.
You just didn't see it.
Yes.
I agree.
- Is that...?
- Yes.
[Filkins] A.B. Wynter's journal?
[Cupp] Right there on the shelf,
in a room nobody else cared about.
Because where's the one
place nobody ever looks?
I use, uh, one of those cans
that looks like a Coke can,
but you can screw
off the bottom.
Anyway, that's not
what you meant.
The room with the books.
Nobody cares about the
room with the books.
I should have realized this
earlier. It was all there.
His notebooks, his journals, they
were like old-fashioned books.
He wrote everything
down in them.
[Haney] The Library.
Mr. Wynter's favorite room.
He stopped by first
thing every morning.
And it was always the last place he
went before he left for the night.
I just didn't see it, which
is precisely why he did it.
Did you read them?
I tried.
[Filkins] And?
[Cupp] And they were funny,
erudite, self-critical,
unexpectedly generous, poignant.
He was candid with some of his feelings,
many of them positive, some negative.
He had a particular disdain
for Lilly Schumacher,
which didn't surprise me at all,
but the intensity of it did.
His relationship with Mr. Gotthard had
clearly soured. He did not like Tripp.
He thought it was a really bad idea to
have Marvella around all those knives
and Sheila around
all that vodka.
He kept a curious ledger
with acronyms and numbers
that made no sense
to me at the time
but which has since
proven highly revealing.
So they were helpful?
Very. And that's even before
I got to the last page.
What was on the last page?
Nothing.
The suicide note.
Yes. But it wasn't a suicide note.
Well, except I didn't know that.
I'm sorry. It... it might've
been a suicide note?
I believed from the beginning that
Mr. Wynter did not die by suicide.
But this note.
It did read like one.
But now, in the context
of the larger page,
it clearly was not
one, not originally.
I couldn't explain it. Not yet.
- Did he rip it out himself?
- Or did someone else do it?
- Accidentally?
- Or intentionally?
Did someone know these books
were here the whole time?
- Who?
- Angie.
- Jasmine.
- Why did he have it on him though?
- How did he have it on him?
- What do you mean?
If he was k*lled in
the Yellow Oval Room,
why does he have a suicide
note on him in the Game Room?
Was it just coincidence?
And what did you decide?
I didn't decide anything,
because that's when
all hell broke loose.
[door opens]
Upstairs. Now.
[intense beat playing]
Hey, it's me. I'm
just doing my thing.
[music intensifies, then ends]
I'm not happy, Detective Cupp.
Well, that's not good.
Because you're, like, the most
important person in the world.
Why are you not happy?
What are you doing here?
Who let you back
into this house?
Do you want to take that?
[sighs] Well, okay, yes, before
everybody starts pointing fingers...
- Harry...?
- It's not like one person decided.
It was a decision among
various... parties.
- You called me.
- Harry!
Yes! Yes. Okay. I asked
Detective Cupp to come back.
Mr. President, I do think it's
important that this gets resolved.
The damage that came out
of those Senate hearings...
You didn't even tell me.
You don't live here!
It's the White House. I'm the
President. Did he tell you?
No.
He didn't tell me either.
And we have jurisdiction.
What the f*ck?
You don't have jurisdiction.
The f*cking campground
attendant is here?
The jurisdiction of the
National Park Police...
is the Grand f*cking Tetons.
It's a common misperception.
The MPD has jurisdiction.
That's why I'm here.
- Do you see the uniform?
- Yeah, we can't miss it, Chief.
Always with the f*cking uniform.
You sleep in that thing?
Okay, it gets respect,
no matter when.
[men arguing indistinctly]
[curious music playing]
[music intensifies]
[indistinct arguing]
[music continues]
This painting was in the Red
Room on the night of the m*rder.
[Park] Okay.
And the paintings that were in
here are now in the Green Room.
The painting that was in the Green Room,
where one of those paintings now is,
is now in the Red Room.
So many colors.
Is this important?
- Yes.
- Why is this important?
Because now I know precisely
how A.B. Wynter was k*lled.
- [Filkins] You had solved the case?
- [Cupp] No.
I had solved part of the
case. A very important part.
I knew how it was done, but
I didn't know who did it.
But now I knew how to
figure that part out too.
I told the President
I needed two hours.
If he gave me two hours
and could collect the people
on the list I gave him
and meet me with them in the East Room,
I would tell him who k*lled A.B. Wynter.
- And?
- [Cupp] And he agreed.
What did you need
the two hours for?
Birding mostly. And to
tie up a few loose ends.
[Dokes] Elsyie Chayle.
That's correct.
Detective Cupp wants to see
you in the Foyer, and, um,
it's probably a
shoes-on situation.
Yeah.
Excellent choice.
And I needed to secure from you immunity
for someone to appear at the White House.
In exchange for which
you agreed to come here.
That's correct, Senator.
[quiet, intriguing
music playing]
Is she here?
Where is she?
She's on-site.
[birds chirping]
Come on!
[Cupp] Whoo!
Got the Fish Crow and the Downy
Woodpecker and the Saw-whet Owl.
And I know Chief Dokes is
excited about that one.
- Always good when you get an owl.
- [Cupp laughs heartily]
Okay. Thank you all for coming.
I appreciate everyone taking time out
of their busy day to join me here.
Particular shout out to the
most powerful man in the world.
Thank you, Mr. President.
You've gotta be
f*cking kidding me.
[attempts Australian
accent] G'day, mates.
Mr. Doumbe. Appreciate you
being here. I'm Cordelia Cupp.
I'll be your host today.
A couple things
before we get started.
First, just wanna make
sure everyone's here
for the m*rder of A.B. Wynter.
If you're here for another m*rder,
that's, like, a huge problem.
So please do let me know.
Please do not touch any objects or
artwork as they might be valuable
and/or contain the fingerprints of
the m*rder*r standing next to you.
I will be taking questions.
We're gonna start up in the
Game Room on the third floor
and then work our way down.
I'll explain. So, hopefully,
everyone's wearing comfortable shoes.
Or just any foot-like covering
at all would be great.
- Okay.
- [Morgan sighs]
The last thing, and
this is important.
Lots of detectives,
even real ones,
do this kind of "summation" when
they already know who did it.
Which I've always thought
was a little weird.
But I'm here to
tell you right now,
I do not know who
k*lled A.B. Wynter.
[murmuring]
I know he was k*lled.
I know he was k*lled by
someone in this room.
I hope the President told you
this when he invited you here.
But I don't know who.
I am positive, though, that by
the time I'm done, I will know.
So. If you k*lled A.B.,
I'm sorry, you can't
leave now. I'll know.
And if you did not k*ll A.B.,
I'm sorry, you can't leave now.
Because I'll think you did, and probably
have evidence to prove it. Or something.
Because you definitely
did something awful.
So... buckle up.
No exit.
I'll see you in the Game Room.
- Is that really true?
- [Cupp] What?
- That you didn't know?
- Absolutely true.
And you thought you'd just
figure it out along the way?
I knew I would.
There's a bird...
A mockingbird...
does this thing.
It knows there's an insect nearby,
but it doesn't know exactly where.
So it suddenly flashes
its wings open.
Gets the insect to blink.
Watch for it.
[elevator bell dings]
The blink.
Let's back it up. To
the night of the party.
This case began when your mom
next door heard a thump...
- [muffled thump]
- ...came over here, found Mr. Wynter dead.
[screams]
When I arrived on the
scene 30 minutes later,
you all believed he
had k*lled himself.
Especially you.
We believe it's a suicide.
I told you almost immediately that
you were wrong and I was right,
and that has been our
relationship ever since.
[groans] This is
gonna be a long tour.
You can leave.
[curious music playing]
Soon after I arrived,
I told you all specifically
why I knew it wasn't a suicide.
There's no knife.
But it wasn't just the knife.
The blood on the shirt that
Mr. Wynter was wearing,
that was not his.
That was Australian Foreign Minister
Rylance's blood and his shirt,
which Mr. Wynter had
graciously exchanged
with Mr. Rylance in his
office an hour before.
The reason for the exchange...
- [lively music playing]
- [both moaning]
[music stops]
...while fascinating,
is irrelevant.
Can I leave?
Sure.
[curious music resumes]
Other curiosities took longer.
But the first and most relevant
business was the missing knife.
And that led me to discover that
there had, in fact, been a knife here,
a good knife,
and that it belonged
to you, Mr. Gotthard.
And that you removed the knife from this
crime scene. And tried to destroy it.
You have admitted this.
[quietly] After all this is over, I
wanna talk about getting my own office.
A single leaf from the
Cedar of Lebanon tree
and a lot of lying finally
led me to Ms. Cannon,
who was in this room around
the time Wynter was k*lled,
drinking vodka that she was supposed
to be delivering to Ms. Cox.
- [Morgan groans]
- You were bringing mother vodka?
Can I smoke in here?
Uh...
No.
Was Ms. Cannon involved
in Mr. Wynter's death?
I do not know.
Not yet. But she was here.
Mr. Gotthard and Ms. Cannon
were both in this room.
And then I learned
another important fact,
this time from one of the few people
who did not lie to me that night,
medical examiner Anne Dodge.
Ms. Dodge confirmed what
I already suspected:
Mr. Wynter likely died
of blunt force trauma
to the back of the head. And
he did, in fact, ingest poison.
And he was dead before
his wrists were slashed.
Meaning he did not
slash his own wrists.
Because he was dead.
Oh. Okay, got it.
Thanks.
He is a strange little man.
I had already come to believe that
Mr. Wynter was dragged into this room,
of course, and this report
from Anne Dodge sealed it.
Mr. Wynter did not k*ll
himself in the Game Room.
He was not k*lled
in the Game Room.
He was dragged in here.
- From where?
- From here. Room 301.
On the night of the State Dinner,
Room 301 was undergoing renovation.
A fake renovation ordered by
President Morgan and Elliott
so that Harry Hollinger's sister
couldn't stay in the White House.
My first clue that this room was
involved in the night's events
was that the door had been taped,
which struck me as unusual.
Even more unusual was that
there was a smell of paint
because, remember, this
was a fake renovation,
staged only to keep Harry's apparently
unbearable sister out of the house.
Can you stop, please?
She's really a nice person.
Beneath the paint, I
found blood. Fresh blood.
And then, another
extraordinary turn:
A precocious young detective
staying across the street
at the Hay-Adams hotel
saw a flashing red
light in this room,
soon after Mr. Wynter had died.
A light I was able to trace
to the wrist of Tripp Morgan.
This f*cking watch. I've been having
so many problems with it lately.
[Cupp] I was convinced of
Mr. Morgan's involvement
but had to wait for
him to reveal it to me,
which he has now done with
remarkable detail. So, thank you.
- Thank me for what?
- For explaining what happened.
I never told you anything.
- Did he tell you something?
- Yes.
Oh sh*t.
Detective Cupp wants to see you.
I knew Tripp was in this room because
of the precocious young detective.
But I didn't know much beyond that,
and I was sure he wouldn't talk to me
any more than he already had.
- By the piano?
- Yeah.
But he is a talker,
and sometimes you just have to put
together the right... combination.
George McCutcheon.
The George McCutcheon.
Nah, I'm just kidding. I
know there's three of you.
What up, George?
Only one Tripp. Thank
God for that, right?
[Tripp whoops, sniffs]
Yo, you seen that detective?
Looks like Indiana Jones and sh*t.
"Best Detective in the World."
I dunno. I guess I'm
supposed to meet her here.
She's been badgering me, George.
I'm telling you, I have nothing
to do with this whole thing.
With A.B. Dude. f*cking nothing.
Dude comes to my room
acting all crazy and sh*t,
but that's f*cking it.
You know what I mean?
You're looking at me funny.
Can I tell you
something, G? Okay?
That night. That night of the
dinner. I'm like f*cked up.
You used to party, right?
Yeah, yeah, yeah. You know.
So I'm having a
f*cking party, right?
'Cause my absolute shitbird brother
won't let me come to this one
with the Australians who know
how to actually f*cking party.
So I go to the room at the
end of the hall, right,
so all these assholes will leave me alone,
and, dude, I f*cking crash out, right?
f*cking crash out.
And then I wake up...
We're good, right?
McCutcheon, this is just, like, f*cking
you and me talking. Right, dude?
Okay. So, dude, I
f*cking wake up,
and A.B. Wynter is on
the ground next to me.
f*cking dead. Dead!
I'm like, "Oh f*ck!"
I lose my sh*t 'cause I'm like, I was just
fighting with this guy in my f*cking room,
and there's this fake electrician in
there who knows we've been fighting.
So I go and look down the hall, and
I see that crazy drunk butler lady.
She's f*cked up too, but
I don't think she sees me.
So I go back in, and I get A.B.
Dude. I'm not proud of
this. Right, George?
Not proud. But, like, I
just f*cking lift him up
and just start dragging the guy
all the way down the f*cking hall.
I don't even know
where I'm going.
I take him to the Game Room, and I'm like,
all right. I just leave him there, right?
And then I run back
down to the other room,
and I see this f*cking blood.
So I take some paint.
Yes, dude, seriously.
And I f*cking paint
this thing over.
Real f*cking expert, you know?
You get that adrenaline.
You can just do sh*t.
Dude, turns out I
can f*cking paint!
So I'm, like, done now,
okay? This sh*t is over.
And, dude, I look down on the ground,
and I see this f*cking set of keys,
and I'm like, what
the f*ck, man?
So I go back down the hall,
f*cking running fast, right?
But real light-footed,
like a panther
'cause I don't wanna wake
up f*cking Elliott's mommy.
I take the keys. I put
them back in A.B.'s pocket,
and I feel this piece
of paper in his jacket.
I pull it out. Dude, it's
a f*cking suicide note.
A.B. f*cking k*lled himself.
f*ck!
I'm like, well, I just
f*cked that up, right?
Had I left him there,
it would've been fine.
What am I gonna do now?
Drag him f*cking back?
What if somebody sees me?
And I'm gassed anyway.
This is where I might've
f*cked up a bit, right?
'Cause I'm f*cking going crazy. Heart
like a hamster, 500 beats a minute.
So I'm like, all right, this has
to look like a suicide right here.
So I open the door next door. I go
into the German pastry dude's office
'cause I know that creepy
f*ck keeps his knives there.
I borrow that guy's knives all the
time. I just take 'em for random sh*t.
One time, I had to trim the
belt off one of these robes.
I just grabbed his knife and
just f*cking sawing away.
So, anyway, I grabbed the
knife, I go back into the room,
and I just f*cking did
the f*cking dirty deed, G.
Cut the wrists. Dropped the knife.
Put the note back in and took off.
And that's, like, all I did.
Like I said, dude,
I have absolutely nothing
to do with any of this.
I don't think she's gonna show
up. Good talking to you, G. Late.
[quirky music playing]
[music fades]
[all talking at once]
That's bullshit!
You used my knives?
- My mommy?
- Shitbird?
- Oh, I'll show you a crazy drunk butler.
- Fake electrician?
That is seriously
f*cked up, Tripp.
Well, maybe you should have
invited me to dinner, bro.
Did Tripp do it?
Did Tripp k*ll A.B. Wynter? I will
not answer that question. Not yet.
But I will say, Mr. Wynter
was not k*lled in here.
In fact, he had been dead
for nearly 20 minutes
by the time Tripp dragged
him down the hall.
So once again, we are faced
with the same question
we entered the room with.
From where and by whom?
And this time, it is even more
incredible and unexpected.
From where?
From down there.
[all muttering]
On the night of
the State Dinner,
Kylie Minogue found blood
in the Lincoln Bedroom.
I believe Mr. Wynter was brought into the
Lincoln Bedroom, but only temporarily.
As a brief resting place
for the person who had dragged
him from the Yellow Oval Room
and who would carry him up
those stairs to Room 301.
Now, why do I say he was dragged
from the Yellow Oval Room?
Because that's what you
said you saw. Under oath.
I looked down the hallway,
and I saw him dragging a body
out of the Yellow Oval Room.
So. From there. The
Yellow Oval Room.
But by whom?
You saw that too,
didn't you, Mr. Doumbe?
[tense music playing]
On the advice of counsel, I...
You don't have to
do that, buddy.
Who did you see dragging Mr. Wynter
out of the Yellow Oval Room?
[music intensifies]
Him!
[Cupp] Aha!
Bruce Geller. The grumpy, but
apparently quite lovable, engineer.
Who had been fighting with
Mr. Wynter and Tripp that night
and who Lilly saw in the Yellow
Oval Room some 30 minutes later.
But when you saw
him, Mr. Doumbe,
he was dragging A.B.
Wynter down this hall.
Why?
Well, that's more complicated.
In Bruce's mind, because
he was covering up a crime
he believed had been committed
by the woman he loved.
Elsyie Chayle.
[Tripp] Damn.
Bruce and Elsyie had
been in a relationship.
And on the night of the State Dinner,
Bruce found Elsyie right here, distraught
because of a recent fight she'd had
with Mr. Wynter in the Yellow Oval Room.
While Mr. Wynter stayed in that
room, Bruce tried to comfort her,
but she wouldn't have it.
I am going to k*ll him.
Bruce left Elsyie right here...
walked down the hallway
to the elevator,
but then, worried about
her, he turned back around
only to see Elsyie now running
out of the Yellow Oval Room.
When he went into the room himself,
moments later, he found Mr. Wynter dead.
And so, as any good man does,
he cleaned it up,
which included moving
Mr. Wynter out of the room.
That's what Mr. Doumbe saw.
Now, it's important to say here that
Elsyie has a very different perspective.
She believes that Bruce
k*lled Mr. Wynter.
She insists that when she
came back in the room,
Mr. Wynter was already dead. And
she didn't see Bruce when she left.
Bruce had his own
issues with Mr. Wynter,
and she knew he was mad at the
way Mr. Wynter had treated her.
Either way, whether you
believe Bruce or Elsyie...
- Elsyie.
- Elsyie.
Bruce.
Either way, Bruce
moved Mr. Wynter.
Dragged him to the
Lincoln Bedroom,
left him there while he went upstairs,
and taped the door to Room 301
to make it easier to enter when
he came back carrying Mr. Wynter.
And then he carried him
up and left him there.
I know you did because you were
the one dragging him down here.
And you're probably
the only person
who could carry Mr. Wynter
up those stairs.
And those were your keys that
Tripp found in that room.
And so,
now we are here
where it all began.
Because I do believe it was in this
room that Mr. Wynter was k*lled.
Which means we're
down to one question:
Who did it?
[music intensifies]
Well, it has to be him,
right? Bruce, the engineer.
- I mean, I guess it could be her.
- It's not her.
- No, I don't think so either, Margery.
- Mm-mm.
I mean, it is one of them
though, right? Bruce or Elsyie?
You have made this
very dramatic.
Thank you. Yes,
that's what I thought.
It must be Bruce or Elsyie.
But the minute I thought that,
I allowed myself to consider the
opposite, which one should always do.
What if it's not
Bruce or Elsyie?
Is it possible that they both
could be telling the truth?
Is it possible that neither
of them k*lled Mr. Wynter?
That in that time,
Elsyie stood by that closet,
and Bruce stood by the elevator,
a third person m*rder*d Mr. Wynter
in the Yellow Oval Room.
Is that possible?
- Yes!
- No!
What do you mean
"a third person"?
- Who?
- How would they get in here?
[Sheila] Right
through that door.
- [Marvella] Could somebody do that?
- Someone did do that.
Him.
The Third Man.
He said he was in that room.
I heard him in that room.
And I saw him come out of
that room into the hallway.
I have immunity.
I knew it!
I... I knew it!
Oh, that whole, ah shucks, I'm just a
dumb sales guy who likes Australians,
and I stumbled into
the White House.
He's that guy from that movie.
Ed Norton. "Primal
Fear." So good.
It's an act. He's full of sh*t.
He's an assassin.
[suspenseful music playing]
And I work for you.
[music intensifies]
No, I'm just kidding.
[Doumbe chuckles]
That was good though.
[Doumbe laughs]
Right, everybody?
[Australian accent] Well,
he's the next Russell Crowe.
- [Doumbe chuckles]
- [angry muttering]
I have considered this scenario.
That it was Mr. Doumbe.
Mr. Doumbe has admitted
to being in that room.
He could've come in
here, k*lled Mr. Wynter,
and returned to the room
when he then called his mom.
Aunt.
This is possible, and
I don't discount it.
But let's assume that
it is not Mr. Doumbe.
Just for a moment.
Could it be anyone else?
Someone who threads
an even finer needle.
A fourth person.
Who comes into that
room before Mr. Doumbe,
slips into this room
after Elsyie leaves,
and then kills Mr. Wynter
before she returns.
Is that possible?
- Yes!
- No!
No! Impossible, right?
And yet. And yet.
Even as I recognize
the seeming impossibility of this
scenario, I cannot let it go.
Because as I spent time
in this room last night,
I discovered things.
Curious things.
A large clock missing
from the mantel.
A missing vase.
Flowers burned by poison.
Things that cannot be explained
by Bruce or Elsyie or Mr. Doumbe.
Things that suggest the
presence of another person.
But you have a
person. Right here.
Two people. Three people.
And if you really need
a fourth, throw him in.
Not cool, bro.
Why are you working so hard on
something so... incredibly unlikely?
It is an excellent
question, Mr. Hollinger.
- Really?
- Yes.
And that surprises me as
much as it surprises you.
It's the question the birder
asks about everything she sees.
Why?
Why would I even consider this?
Why would I go to the most
outrageous, the most extreme,
the most improbable of all possible
resolutions to this mystery?
And my answer to you is...
the passenger pigeon.
That's your answer?
It is not the answer I expected.
The passenger pigeon was once the
most abundant bird in the world.
In the early 19th century,
there were billions of them.
Billions. And by the late 19th
century, they were virtually extinct.
In fact, they were thought
to be. In the wild.
And then, in 1907,
a small flock was spotted
in rural Virginia.
This was the last known credible sighting
of a passenger pigeon in history.
And do you know who
saw those birds?
You.
Him.
Alexander Hamilton!
[all talk at once]
[Cupp] Teddy Roosevelt.
President Teddy Roosevelt
was the last person
to see a passenger
pigeon in the wild.
And when he did, he couldn't
believe it. It seemed impossible.
It defied logic.
The great birder, and Teddy
Roosevelt was a great birder,
looks for context, understands
relationships, history.
What you are seeing
needs to make sense.
And that flock of wild
pigeons made no sense.
They were extinct.
But. You also have
to trust yourself
because you know
what you are seeing,
even if everything else
says, no, that's not it.
You know. He knew. I know.
Know what?
Know that the m*rder*r
came through that door
with a glass of
poison. Paraquat.
That the m*rder*r tried to
get Mr. Wynter to drink it,
and that Mr. Wynter
did drink it,
just a little, and tossed it on the
flowers next to him. Burning them.
That the m*rder*r threw a
vase at Mr. Wynter but missed.
That this vase
shattered on this wall,
and that the shards of that vase
hit Mr. Wynter on the forehead.
That the m*rder*r then picked
up a large clock on the mantel,
the biggest, heaviest, most
accessible m*rder weapon in this room,
and hit Mr. Wynter over the
head with it. k*lling him.
I know that.
[music fades]
But that is impossible.
It's incredible.
It's not impossible.
It's impossible.
You're saying someone
comes in that room.
- Before Mr. Doumbe.
- Yes.
Then comes in this room
while Mr. Wynter is alone.
- After his fight with Elsyie?
- Yes.
- And then kills A.B.?
- Yes.
- Then what? Where do they go?
- Out the door.
What door? There were people on
the other side of these doors.
Mr. Doumbe was right
there. Talking to his mom.
- Not that door.
- Then what door?
- [Haney] Oh my God.
- [Harry] Oh sh*t.
That door.
[quiet, suspenseful
music playing]
Yeah, I still don't see it.
Because it's not
there, Mr. Doumbe.
Not anymore.
But on the night of the
m*rder, there was a door there.
A passageway between the Yellow
Oval Room and the Treaty Room.
I must've seen it myself, but
it made no impression on me.
Even when I spent time here earlier today
and discovered other curious things,
I missed it.
It's only when I realized
various paintings had been moved,
and this one brought in here
specifically to cover a now larger space,
I figured out what had happened.
That the door had been sealed,
hidden, replaced by this wall.
A door that makes the
impossible possible.
And makes every single
one of you a suspect.
- No!
- No!
[all talking at once]
- Absolutely not. Not me.
- That's right.
Yes. You.
All of you.
The possibility that someone could
slip in here, k*ll Mr. Wynter,
and then slip out that door means
all of you could have done this.
Even you. And you.
And you.
Because if I'm wrong about this,
then one of you definitely did it.
Nobody here has a solid alibi
for that brief window in which
we know Mr. Wynter was k*lled.
And the fact that you did other
bizarre and terrible sh*t later
does not mean you
did not do this.
In fact, it increases the
likelihood that you did.
That you did k*ll him.
You all certainly seemed
like you wanted to k*ll him.
You all fought with
him that night.
- f*ck you, A.B.!
- Feel like you have something against me.
There's broken glass!
I'm not leaving.
This is my dessert. And it
is going to be served my way!
Mr. Wynter, please,
I'm begging you.
You screamed at him.
[yelling]
You threatened him.
Keep your f*cking mouth shut.
You openly mused
about k*lling him.
He won't fire me if
he isn't here anymore.
Some of you even said you
were going to k*ll him.
I am going...
...to k*ll him.
And then one of you did.
So. Tell me:
Who sealed that door?
[tense music playing]
[music intensifies]
Jasmine Haney ordered
the door to be sealed.
[woman] What?
I saw the work being done,
and I thought it was odd,
since the President and Mr. Morgan
aren't living here anymore.
I asked and I was
told it was Jasmine.
Oh.
Were you going to
mention that, Ms. Haney?
No, I wasn't, Ms. Cupp.
Detective.
You really think I had
something to do with this?
You wanted this job more than anything.
You thought he had betrayed you.
You fought with him, so... yes.
Maybe.
Did you seal that door?
- Yes, I did.
- [others gasping]
[murmuring]
But it wasn't my idea.
- It was an order.
- Whose order?
[quietly] He called me and
told me to take care of it.
- Who?
- Him!
- What?
- [others gasping]
That's a lie.
Perry, that's a lie.
Perry?
[hesitates] Yeah. Jasmine?
Detective Cupp.
You never called?
- Called Ms. Haney to seal off a door?
- Yes.
No! What are you talking about?
You called me. I talked to you.
This is the second time now
you said you didn't make a call
someone else claimed you made.
I... I know. These things
didn't happen. She's lying.
And Agent Rausch was
lying when she said
you ordered Secret Service off the
second floor at the State Dinner?
He called at 9:22
p.m. I spoke to him.
Yes, it's insane!
Perry, please.
Yes. Yes.
I agree.
[quietly] Did you have
any issue with A.B.?
What? No! Why are
you asking me that?
I mean, not really...
[Morgan groans]
- I didn't do this, Ms. Cupp.
- Detective.
You have to believe me.
Oh, I definitely don't have to.
[tense music playing]
[music fades]
There's a bird on your
wallpaper in there.
In your bedroom.
Looks almost like a
Malaysian Rail-babbler.
I'm not sure it is, but...
that would be fitting.
The Malaysian Rail-babbler
is a wildly elusive bird,
but not in the traditional way.
It's not just hard to spot.
It's hard to identify.
Even what it is.
It's called a Rail-babbler,
but it's actually not a rail.
It's not a babbler.
It has a song that's
almost ventriloquial.
Like it's coming
from somewhere else.
Maybe
it wasn't you.
Maybe... it was an order.
Maybe someone did call.
And maybe it wasn't you.
Maybe it was only someone
pretending to be you.
Using your voice.
Disguising theirs. Hiding.
That's possible.
This...
is...
um...
tricky.
[suspenseful music playing]
[Lilly] It was me.
I did it.
I ordered the door sealed.
I faked Elliott's voice.
I'm good at it. You know that.
Elliott is indecisive.
[as Elliott] "Uh... Well, uh,
uh, that's... that's tricky."
I can do it. I did it.
- What?
- Why?
[Lilly sighs]
Mr. Wynter and I had gotten in a fight
earlier that night, about the night.
He had said some
terrible things about me,
and in the heat of it,
I grabbed his journal.
I tore a page out.
I felt bad about it.
I went looking for him later,
and that's when I heard the fight
between him and Elsyie in here.
I left, but I came back immediately
because it was so violent.
And that's when I saw him.
Right there.
Dead.
They had k*lled him.
Who?
Them.
- No!
- No!
[soft, tense music playing]
They were both here in the room.
And it was exactly like
you said, Detective Cupp.
She and Wynter were fighting.
She threw a vase at him.
It missed. It cut his face.
Bruce came in after that
and hit him with the clock.
This is what they told me.
What about the poison?
That was for her husband.
He was ruining her life.
He wanted me to lose my job,
wanted to destroy my life.
And she did plan to k*ll him.
I did want to k*ll him!
[Lilly] That's what she said.
She had gone to the shed that night
when she assumed no one would be around,
and she found the poison.
She called Mr. Wynter from the
shed because she had to tell him
she was going to be late
cleaning the Lincoln Bedroom.
And when she got up here
a few minutes later,
and Mr. Wynter confronted her,
and she realized she was going to
lose her job, she lost her sh*t.
That's when she threw the
vase. The poison came after.
Because there wasn't much blood,
they decided that they could
make it look like a suicide.
That was his idea.
They staged it. Again,
exactly like you said.
Or close.
They got a glass from next door.
Poured some poison
down his throat.
Then tossed the
rest in the flowers.
That's f*cked up.
But I saw two glasses.
The other one was
mine. I needed a drink.
Because of the note.
Because of the note.
I didn't know what to do.
I felt terrible for them.
I know this sounds
crazy, but she looked so
terrified.
She has a daughter.
He was just trying
to protect her.
The page I accidentally ripped
out of Mr. Wynter's journal?
It read like a suicide note.
I'm sure that's not what it was,
but that's what it sounded like.
And I realized what it could
do. For them. To sell the story.
[sniffles]
I gave them the note.
He... tucked it into
Mr. Wynter's suit jacket
and carried Wynter away.
He came back down. Cleaned
it all up. I helped him.
Picked up pieces of
the vase, vacuumed.
He forgot the glasses.
- [Lilly] Mistakes were made.
- And the clock?
He took it away. Said he
knew how to get rid of it.
Then they came up with their
stories. Perfectly inconsistent.
And the door?
Why did you seal the door?
Panic.
When you were on the third
floor that night, investigating,
I wasn't concerned.
I thought this
would all go away.
But when you came down here,
before you left, I got worried.
Even after you left, I was
scared you'd come back.
Or somebody would.
I just wanted the room
to look different.
To feel different. Somehow.
I was trying to protect them.
I feel terrible for Mr. Wynter.
And I honestly feel
terrible for them.
Still.
I'm sorry.
[cries softly]
- Blink.
- Yes.
Watch for it. The blink.
What?
You were so close.
So close.
I am so unexpectedly
impressed by you, Lilly.
So smart. So quick-thinking.
Such an incredible performer.
Today. On that night.
So much more diabolical
than I even imagined.
What is going on?
You could've done it. I would've
found you some way. I'm sure of it.
But you were close.
Undone by that single question
the birder asks relentlessly.
Why? Why did you seal
that passageway up, Lilly?
- Just to make it all feel better? No.
- I...
[Cupp] You needed
something better than that.
Because there was another reason.
Because you were hiding something.
Something with your
fingerprints all over it.
Something that proves
you k*lled A.B. Wynter.
[shocked gasping]
[tense music playing]
- [screaming]
- Oh!
- [gasping]
- Detective Cupp!
I'm really sorry about
this, Mr. President.
[gasping]
[music softens]
f*ck yeah!
[Tripp laughs]
[Cupp grunts]
[soft, tense music continues]
[string music playing]
[door clicks]
Oh.
I need to call my dad.
Why?
Because of the clock.
Why did you do this, Lilly?
Oh, I can take that, unless...?
Or why don't I start,
and then you can jump in?
She did it because she hates you. And
by you, I do mean you, Mr. President.
But I really mean all of you.
The house. Like,
the actual house.
Like, the physical space. Have you
seen what she's done to the Blue Room?
You don't do these things unless
you really hate this place.
But also, like, the
house as an idea.
As an institution. She hates it.
The history. The
traditions. The staff.
What it represents...
America, I guess? She hates it. And
she hated Mr. Wynter most of all.
Because he represented
what it represents,
and he was in her way, and
he had been for a long time.
He sabotaged Wellness Christmas.
She wanted to "reinvent
the White House"
and to her that meant tear
it down. Maybe literally.
And he loved the house
and cared about the house,
about the people and the plumbing
and the artwork and the budgets.
And he cared about you,
Mr. President, and you, Mr. Morgan,
and the ordinary Americans
who came from all over
the country to visit here,
and that was all just
really stupid to her.
Am I doing okay?
She k*lled Mr. Wynter
because she hated him,
but also because she feared him.
You want to know
why? This is why.
Because she found out on the
night of the State Dinner
he was going to expose her.
That was the fight that Mr. Gomez
heard in Mr. Wynter's office.
It wasn't Harry Hollinger in that
room. It was Lilly Schumacher.
And she just told you that
it was. She admitted it.
That's the crazy genius
of this wild attempt
to frame Bruce and
Elsyie just now.
So much of what
she said was true.
She and Wynter got in a fight,
he said some terrible things about her,
she ripped a page from his journal.
That all happened.
What do you mean "expose her"?
I mean, tell you and Mr. Morgan every
last selfish and absurd and a*usive thing
she had done since she got here, none
of which you probably knew about,
all of which he had meticulously
documented in his journal.
All the lies and
misrepresentations and indulgences
and general shitty
behavior was all here.
And that scared her.
Excuse me.
I'm sorry. Really?
That's it? That's all you got?
Yes, we fought.
I admit it. We did fight.
Everybody fought with A.B.
And yes, he was worked
up, and so was I.
You think I'm going to k*ll him
because he was going to
expose my "shitty behavior"?
Seriously?
What do I care if he says crazy
sh*t to Perry and Elliott?
They're never gonna believe him over
me. That's not the way the world works.
And second, I don't care.
I'm rich.
Here's a secret, everybody:
Rich people don't give a sh*t!
I'm not gonna miss my $114,000
"salary" or whatever the f*ck it is,
which I give to
charity by the way.
I'm doing this as a
public service, okay?
Okay, guys?
So fire me.
Yes, Lilly, I think
that's going to happen.
So. Thank you.
And you do make some excellent
points, you really do.
The thing is, though, it wasn't
just your shitty behavior.
Mr. Wynter was smart enough to
know he needed more than that.
And it wasn't hard to find.
There are a couple of
pages here in his journal
that I didn't know what
to make of at first.
It's a blizzard of numbers and
letters. Almost like a puzzle.
Probably deliberately so.
To kind of hide his work.
But I figured out what it was
because I'm, like,
really good at puzzles.
It was all the money
you misappropriated.
Stole.
Where's the money gonna come from?
You don't have the budget for this.
Where does the money ever come from,
A.B.? It comes from another pile of money.
That's how money works.
You're rich, but here's another
thing about the way the world works.
Rich people steal
money. All the time.
In some cases it's
even why they're rich.
My guess is your theft
had more to do with
laziness, arrogance, and contempt
for the system, but who knows?
And it wasn't just money.
These numbers?
It was all the various criminal
statutes and ethical codes
Mr. Wynter knew you had violated. In
the way you had secured contracts.
In the favors that you traded
with different vendors.
In the people you had
invited into the White House
and who advised you on moving
American government officials
around at a State Dinner.
I think Mr. Wynter told
you all this in his office.
[Wynter] I am going to
tell them everything!
And I think you really, really,
really, really, really gave a sh*t.
And I think that's why you
tried to grab his journal.
And I think that's why when you
walked out of his office that night,
and stood in the hallway,
and read that page that you
accidentally ripped out,
you decided to k*ll him.
To stage his suicide.
Would you have k*lled him if
you didn't rip that page out
and realize what you
could do with it?
Maybe. It's impossible to say.
And irrelevant.
All criminal activity is
motive plus opportunity.
And you saw an opportunity.
All of your problems would go away
'cause Mr. Wynter would go away,
and then you could
redo all the rooms
and fire all the staff,
and it would be great,
and you wouldn't have to sit in some
shitty fluorescent-lit courtroom
for the next two years
while your really good lawyer made
some of it go away a different way.
This was easier. And more fun.
And clever.
- [clicks fingers]
- And that was it. The die was cast.
Everything else we know.
You were the one
leading the non-toxic,
chemical-free, "Conscious
Landscaping" initiative,
whatever the hell that is,
so you went to the shed
with your glass that broke,
picked up Emily's sister's little tumbler,
filled it with paraquat, fine choice,
and you called Mr. Wynter and said,
let's meet in the Yellow Oval Room.
Let's see if we can talk. I
apologize. Whatever you needed to say.
- And he agreed.
- Give me five minutes.
Even though I have a strong sense
he knew something bad might happen,
just like birds have this
thing where they can sense
a change in barometric pressure
when a storm is coming.
I am going to be dead
by the end of the night.
- You called the Secret Service as Elliott.
- He called at 9:22 p.m.
- Had them clear the 2nd floor.
- We were told to stay off the floor.
Then you carried the poison
into the Family Living Room,
waited for Elsyie to leave,
and then you came in
here with your drinks.
Scotch for you.
Paraquat and scotch for A.B.
And then you gave him the
page from his journal back...
the suicide note...
and watched him put
it into his pocket.
And then you went to work.
Tried to charm him.
I doubt he was charmed.
But Mr. Wynter also
wasn't a cynical person.
I don't think he believed
someone could be so malevolent.
But he'd seen a lot. Knew a lot
of pettiness, cruelty, arrogance.
Probably more than any
of us could ever imagine.
But even after everything,
he was still willing to give
you the benefit of the doubt.
It cost him his life.
Wynter drank the poison,
realized immediately what it was,
and tossed the rest
onto the roses.
But paraquat works fast and
is devastatingly painful,
and he was rocked.
I'm sure you don't know that
much about poison, Lilly,
but you probably knew enough
to know that what he drank
wasn't going to k*ll him.
So you threw the vase...
that missed, but startled
him even further...
so you went for the
clock. And that was it.
A.B. was dead. But now
you had to move quickly.
So you grabbed the clock and
escaped into the passageway.
But this damn clock,
right? What to do?
It's huge and weird
and bloody and cracked
and you couldn't walk around
with it or put it down anywhere.
Now Elsyie and then Bruce were
in this room finding the body,
and you had no reason to believe
that they would so tragically
misinterpret the
actions of the other.
For all you knew, Secret Service was gonna
come in 30 seconds, and you'd be caught.
So you stuffed the clock
in this storage drawer
in front of you
in the passageway,
waited for them to clear
the hall, and then sped out
through the Treaty Room and
down the Grand Staircase.
And you were free.
You rejoined the party.
But that clock was
eating away at you.
What if they're up there?
What if they find it?
And then, as time went by,
and you realized nobody was
saying anything about a dead body,
and trust me, there would be a big to-do
about a dead body in the White House,
especially on the night
of a State Dinner,
you decided to go back up
and see what was going on.
Move the clock if you could.
But you get up here,
and there's nothing.
No Wynter. No broken
vase. Nothing.
Only engineer Bruce Geller,
looking for a leak from
Tripp Morgan's room.
What the hell was going on?
Was Wynter alive? What happened?
You were genuinely
confused. Worried.
And that's what everyone
saw from that point forward.
I was looking for him
everywhere, in every room.
- She seemed worried.
- Concerned.
Not panicky, just
genuinely worried.
[Cupp] What I saw.
I still haven't found A.B.
[Cupp] Yes, turns out
you are a great actress,
but that's not what it was.
You were panicked.
When I arrived, and all of the details
of what had happened to Mr. Wynter
started to come out,
that he apparently k*lled
himself in the Game Room,
yes, it was absolutely staggering to
you, mind-blowing, but it was great.
You were off the hook.
And then, when I started
to bring the investigation
down to the second floor,
well, like you said, you
started to get a little worried.
But I was gone soon enough,
and the minute I was, you took the
final step to bury the evidence.
Seal it in. Hopefully forever.
It was a brilliant plan, and
you deserve a lot of credit,
but you really only made
it as long as you did
because of the bizarre miscommunications
and regrettable behavior
from so many other
people in the house.
So... team effort here.
You really owe them a lot.
Even though you hate them.
[poignant music playing]
This is the man who died.
Right here. In this room.
I heard a lot
about him from you.
You can learn a lot about someone
from what he writes and reads.
He was a complicated person:
flawed and difficult,
fiercely loyal,
smart and thoughtful,
an enormous pain in the a*s,
and endlessly generous
in his thoughts.
He had suffered in his
life, and he had persevered,
and I am sorry I never got
the chance to meet him.
He loved this house.
I didn't know him,
but I know that.
Loved the people who work here.
Respected them. Understood them.
Appreciated them. Saw them. Saw who
they were, where they came from,
what they had given up to
be here, why they were here.
And there's that
question again. Why?
Why are they here?
Why was he here?
For you, Mr. President.
And for you, Mr. Morgan.
- [Morgan mouths silently]
- For everyone here.
For all of us.
It wasn't "us versus them" for Wynter.
It really wasn't. It was just us.
One house. One family.
One imperfect union. Trying
to make it work. Enduring.
He believed in that, in this.
And look, I'm just
the detective,
but I think this is
really worth believing in.
And she does not
believe in this,
and that is why she
really, really sucks.
Also, she's a m*rder*r.
I'm still a little unclear
on who has jurisdiction here,
so whoever it is, take her away.
- That would be me.
- Yeah. Relax, gentlemen.
- It's a Bureau thing. I got it.
- No, no.
[indistinct chattering]
Lilly Schumacher.
She wasn't even in my top three.
I had the Swiss Guy, the
Salt Guy, and the Water Guy.
And you?
Let me guess.
- Yep.
- [Bix] Ride or die.
What about Harry?
What about him?
Did he play any role in this?
No. I mean, Tripp
Morgan was right.
- He is an as*h*le.
- Okay, so.
[Cupp] He was incredibly
rude to Mr. Wynter,
he did try to kick
me off the case,
he did inappropriately
search Mr. Wynter's office.
I think that was more in the spirit
of being an anxious political animal
as much as anything.
But the conspiracy stuff, that
was all bullshit. Sorry, Senator.
Nah, don't worry. We're
in a closed session.
To his credit, he did bring
me back and let me solve this.
People are complicated.
Why did Lilly try to
frame Bruce and Elsyie?
It was a Hail Mary.
She knew I was onto her
in the end. She knew.
When did you know?
I knew when I knew. I don't
mean that as a riddle.
At some point, you go from not
knowing something to knowing it.
To seeing it.
When is that exactly?
I don't know.
I had my suspicions about Lilly
when she first told me she
saw Elsyie and Wynter fighting
in the Yellow Oval Room.
I was in the hall, and I saw him arguing
with someone in the Yellow Oval Room.
Elsyie told me they fought
behind closed doors.
He told me to close the door.
[Cupp] She had no
reason to make that up
and it was consistent with what
everyone had told me about Wynter.
That he always tried to have his
disagreements behind closed doors.
[Rollie] He definitely didn't
like to fight in public.
He'd always try to avoid that.
He'd bring you in,
close the door.
How could Lilly see them from
the hall if the door was closed?
It was suspicious.
She did see it, because she was
watching from the Family Living Room
where she was mixing her poison.
And when Jasmine said
the call to seal the door
came down from Elliott, I had a
strong sense that it was Lilly.
I had heard her impersonation.
And I never suspected Elliott.
And then she blinked.
Not because of the clock,
though that was the clincher,
but when she said she saw Bruce
put the note in Wynter's jacket.
Lilly wasn't in the Game Room when
I removed the note that night.
She couldn't have
known where it was
unless she saw Wynter
put it there himself.
Which she did.
Well, time to departure?
Wheels up in... three hours.
Reagan or Dulles?
Dulles.
Well, you better
get going, then.
Thank you, Detective Cupp. I've
been doing this a very long time.
I've never seen anyone like you.
[intriguing music playing]
I got you something.
For the trip. Do
not open in here.
I feel really bad for the person
sitting next to you on that flight.
Thank you.
For everything.
I need to make a quick stop.
You sure? Do we have time?
We have time.
Five minutes.
I solved the m*rder.
- The one next door?
- Yes.
Oh great. I thought you might
have been coming about Clive.
No.
Does that mean my son's
husband will be moving back in?
- The President of the United States?
- Yes.
He is.
Oh, it was so nice around here.
I'm sorry.
Who did it?
Wait. Don't tell me.
That snotty girl
with the attitude?
Yes.
You could've just asked me.
Detective Cupp?
I'll have them send
up vodka, Ms. Cox.
You are good.
Yes. I am.
The best.
[intriguing music playing]
[falcon squawks]
[music intensifies]
[music ends]
[solemn instrumental
music playing]
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01x08 - The Mystery of the Yellow Room
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Set in "upstairs, downstairs, and backstairs" of the White House, Cordelia Cupp, an eccentric detective, arrives on the premises in order to solve a m*rder which happened during a state dinner.
Set in "upstairs, downstairs, and backstairs" of the White House, Cordelia Cupp, an eccentric detective, arrives on the premises in order to solve a m*rder which happened during a state dinner.