06x04 - Our Time Is Up

[bunniefuu]

Holmes: Previously on Elementary...

I'm your therapist, Joan.

My confidentiality protects your confidentiality.

I have something called post-concussion syndrome.

The doctor is loathe to make any promises.

Things could get worse before they get better.

Hey, uh, my name's Michael.

Holmes: A man approached me at a meeting yesterday.

Apparently, I-I helped him once when I described how integral my work was to maintaining my sobriety.

There's this girl I know from the program.

Last Tuesday, she didn't show up to the 7:00 p.m.

at St.

Olaf's.

I reach out to her sponsor, and it turns out she hadn't even shown up to work.

I don't know.

I'm just worried about her.

♪ ♪ [speaking inaudibly]

[whirring]

...lock!

[hissing]

[grunts]

Is it 8:00 already?

Actually, it's 8:30.

You looked so peaceful in there, I thought I'd give you another 30 minutes.

So, what's the verdict?

[panting]

Did it help?

I feel refreshed, reinvigorated.

And I'm a little bit pruney.

But the headache I felt coming on has evaporated.

Oh.

Well, imagine how you would feel if you bought a sensory deprivation t*nk made in this century.

The Victorians knew their spas, Watson.

Yeah, well, they also paid money to watch men box kangaroos.

What's your point?

Is that the girl that Michael asked you to look for?

Yeah.

Polly Kenner.

Dropped off the map several weeks ago.

But according to her family, she's quite prone to disappearing.

Heroin addict.

Chronic relapses since she started the program.

In the past, when she's fallen off the wagon, she's felt ashamed.

And then when she's felt ashamed...

She's run away.

Speaking of Michael, when are you going to introduce me to him?

You're asking as if he and I were a couple.

We're fellows in a recovery program.

Well, it would be nice to put a face to the name.

He's out of town on business at the moment.

If you like, you can join me when I deliver a progress report when he gets back.

Hopefully today's investigative [phone chimes]

efforts will bear more fruit.

Actually, you're wanted on another case.

We both are.

Gregson: Victim's a therapist.

Cleaning lady found the body a few hours ago.

Assuming she's finally stopped screaming, she's at the precinct giving a statement right now.

So what's 91% of 4.7 liters?

Is it 4.1 or 4.3?

I'm just trying to estimate how much of the victim's total blood volume is on display.

Over 50 s*ab wounds' worth, based on a preliminary count.

I don't see a Kn*fe.

Bell: Hasn't turned up yet.

We think the k*ller took it with him when he left.

Any sign of a break-in?

Bell: No.

To get into the building, you got to punch in a code.

The k*ller either knew it or slipped in with someone who did.

Before you ask about security cameras, this place doesn't have any.

The doctors here need to protect patient confidentiality.

We got to figure the k*ller brought the Kn*fe, right?

I mean, could be premeditated, but the m*rder itself seems frenzied, like whoever did it was in a rage.

So we could be looking for an unstable, violent individual who was fixated on the victim, a psychiatrist.

I would remind everyone that the majority of mentally ill people have no history of or propensity for v*olence.

But in this case...

Successful shrink in Manhattan-- probably sees dozens of patients.

Makes for a big suspect pool.

I can narrow it down by one.

Me.

This is Dr.

Candace Reed.

She used to be my therapist.

♪ Elementary 6x04 ♪ Our Time Is Up Original Air Date on May 21, 2018 [indistinct radio chatter]

You're certain you're okay?

Uh, yeah.

I'm okay.

I mean, she was in a different office when I was seeing her, but that was five years ago.

Given your personal connection to the victim, no one will fault you for stepping away.

My PCS doesn't seem to be troubling me.

I can work here without you.

Honestly, I didn't really know her that well.

I mean, our relationship was designed to be one-sided.

She helped me figure out a bunch of things, and I'm grateful.

But I'm up for this.

[siren whooping]

Sherlock Holmes, Joan Watson, this is Dr.

Leo Demopoulos.

He's Dr.

Reed's partner in the practice.

Sorry for your loss.

I just can't believe it.

I offered to walk Candace out last night, but she was catching up on billing.

Uh, what time was this?

Was a little after 7:00.

I had an 8:00 appointment at my home office in New Rochelle.

When I left, everything was fine.

So do you know if she was expecting anyone last night?

Not that she mentioned.

Watson: Did you see anyone suspicious when you were leaving?

No.

I took the elevator down with Len Martinez, chiropractor who works on the fourth floor.

The building's usually pretty empty at that hour.

Oh, God.

What?

If Candace had patients this morning, they're going to start showing up.

If you'll excuse me, I need to make some calls, let them know what happened.

We can help you contact her patients.

Why would you want to...

Wait, do you think one of them did this?

Someone she was treating?

Well, the more we find out about the relationships in her life, personal or professional, the better.

I'm sorry.

I have access to her patients' names and numbers because I'm her partner, but HIPAA privacy laws prevent me from sharing any of that information.

If you give me your card, I'll let each one of them know that you'd like to speak with them.

Appreciate it.

Thank you.

I'll contact the D.A.'s office about getting a court order.

Meantime, we could try building our own patient list.

Work backwards off Dr.

Reed's phone records and bank deposits, see who was calling her and who was sending her checks.

I know she had a husband.

Has anyone spoken to him yet?

I was just on my way to see him now, if you want to join.

Holmes: I'd like a little more time examining the scene.

Let me know if you learn anything.

Man: None of this makes any sense.

Candace didn't have an enemy in the world.

Who would want to...

Is that why you're here?

'Cause I'm the husband?

Bell: Right now, we're just here to notify you about your wife's death.

And to tell you how sorry we are.

But if you want to tell us where you were last night...

[sighs]

My sister's house.

She lives in Stamford.

Her husband passed away last year.

Candace and I have been trying to be more present for her.

Loss of a spouse, y-you see, is-is just...

[crying]

I, uh...

I got home about an hour ago.

I can show you the train ticket if you want.

Maybe before we leave.

[sighs]

I knew your wife.

I was one of her patients, five years ago.

She was very helpful.

That sounds like her.

Bell: You were saying you can't think of anyone who would've wanted to hurt her.

[sighs]

No.

No one.

What about her patients?

Did she have problems with any of them?

No.

Not-not that she mentioned to me.

I mean, even-even if she had, I couldn't tell you much else.

Now, is that because of confidentiality issues or did you two just not discuss her work?

No, no.

We talked about it quite a lot, actually.

[sighs]

Well, psychiatrists are just like anyone else.

I mean, they have to talk about their work.

They just can't name names.

She would vent about affairs, divorces, the occasional fetish.

One of her patient's preferred s*x object was a shoe.

It wasn't me.

Names aside, did anyone ever make your wife uncomfortable?

There was this one guy.

I mean, h-he made me uncomfortable.

He kept bringing her gifts.

What kind of gifts?

Nothing romantic.

Just...

knickknacks.

A book that he'd read that he thought she might like.

The occasional coffee.

Candace said he had trust issues and that a strong transference was a sign of progress.

She never told me his name, but I know he had a regular appointment.

5:00 every Tuesday.

Yesterday was Monday.

I know.

But this guy, um, he also had a bad habit of showing up without an appointment.

What if that's what happened yesterday?

Candace asked him to leave and he wouldn't take no for an answer.

I got your paper.

Oh, excellent.

So, what do we think of the husband?

Is he a grief-stricken widower or likely suspect?

The former.

He has an alibi.

That's a pity.

I was looking forward to another go in my t*nk.

He told us that one of Dr.

Reed's patients seemed to have an unhealthy attachment to her.

So Marcus and I thought he would be worth talking to.

Unfortunately, Dr.

Reed never mentioned the guy by name, just that she saw him every Tuesday.

Do you know what time?

5:00.

Why?

What is all this?

It's the reason I needed more paper.

Is the man in question a current or former patient?

Current.

Are these Dr.

Reed's patient files?

They are.

Oh.

So I guess her partner changed his mind about sharing information.

He did not.

Well, there's no way the police could've gotten a court order this quickly.

Where did these come from?

That backup hard drive.

I stole it from Dr.

Reed's office.

I know.

It's almost one tree's worth of paper.

But I worried that reading it on a computer might trigger another headache.

Do you know how illegal it is for us to have this stuff?

Less illegal than stabbing a woman to death.

The primary reason that psychiatric records are kept confidential is that many self-described sane people are judgmental idiots.

I myself am not.

For example, I fully support this man's quest to have s*x with as many shoes as possible.

Tuesdays at 5:00 is downstairs.

Does that hard drive contain all of Dr.

Reed's patient files?

Like, everyone she's ever seen?

You're wondering if it also contains your files.

It does.

But out of respect for your privacy, I neither opened nor printed them.

Oh.

So, my privacy you respect?

Unlike Dr.

Reed's other patients, I know where you were at the time of the m*rder.

Alfonse Kapoor, on the other hand...

Is that Mr.

Tuesdays at 5:00 p.m.?

What does it say?

Are you certain you wish to know?

I mean, you've given me a great deal to think about.

Doctor-patient confidentiality exists for a reason.

It could be that even a s*ab-happy psychopath deserves some sort of...

So, according to this, he's a partner at an accounting firm called Foster & Place.

He was required to see Dr.

Reed after he bit a colleague who argued with him.

The doctor thought he had rage issues.

[tapping at door]

Holmes: Mr.

Kapoor?

Hello.

I'm Sherlock Holmes.

This is Joan Watson.

We were hoping that you might have a word with us.

About?

About Dr.

Candace Reed.

I-I...

Do you want to close that?

Seeing a psychiatrist is a sign of weakness around here.

If these guys smell blood, they pounce.

I hear some of them even bite.

Did Sydney send you?

Sydney?

My boss.

He's the only one who knows I'm in therapy.

Is there some problem?

Dr.

Reed was m*rder*d last night.

What?

We're consultants with the NYPD.

The medical examiner thinks that she was k*lled between the hours of 8:00 and 10:00 p.m.

Can you account for your whereabouts during that time?

Uh...

Candace...

is dead?

Most of her patients referred to her as "Dr.

Reed".

But, I mean, we understand you feel that you had a special relationship?

Mr.

Kapoor?

Could-could you tell us where you were last night?

No.

Uh, I mean...

I mean, I was someplace.

I just...

[crying]

Is...

is she real-really dead?

I'm sorry.

I'm just...

I'm...

Um, I'm having a little trouble breathing.

I'm just...

I'm just gonna get some air.

If it's an act, it's one of the best I've seen.

He bit someone because they argued with him.

He's obviously capable of v*olence when he's angry.

Sometimes people prone to rage-- they just black out.

You know, it's understandable.

You want to take a look at your file.

What?

The one that contains Dr.

Reed's notes on your sessions together.

You've been thinking about it.

I can tell.

Yeah.

You respected her a great deal.

She's gone, but her assessment of you remains, so, it's natural that you want to take a peek.

I do not want to look at my own file.

I won't bring it up again, but I'd be remiss if I didn't remind you that denial can be a funny thing, you know?

One never can tell what it'll make one do.

Mr.

Kapoor, you awake?

They told me you spent the night here.

Hmm?

Guess we never did finish our talk.

[chuckles]

No, I just wanted to make sure you were okay.

You surprised me yesterday.

If I'd have known you were gonna do that...

[groans softly]

Candace...

Dr.

Reed helped me so much.

I couldn't imagine going on without her.

Well, one more floor up, and you wouldn't be.

The second I jumped, I realized that she had prepared me for every problem I have in my life.

Except falling three stories.

Yeah.

[chuckles]

Well, you're gonna have a few more days to firm up that perspective, because, your doctors are placing you on a danger-to-self hold.

[sighs]

You...

you believe me now?

That I didn't...

k*ll her?

I believed you before you jumped.

Look...

what I did...

People might think it was because I really did hurt Dr.

Reed.

I don't want that.

All I can tell you about that night is...

that I was at a meeting that is covered by a non-disclosure agreement.

And I know how that must sound, but...

if the details get out, a billion-dollar company's stock goes in the toilet.

I could get sued.

My boss, Mr.

Place, is supposed to be coming here at 9:00 with some documents that he wants me to look over.

Talk to him.

He'll tell you I'm telling the truth.

So you attempted su1c1de yesterday, and your boss is bringing you work?

[elevator bell dings]

Mr.

Place, I'm Sherlock Holmes.

I work with the police.

You might be aware I questioned your employee, Mr.

Kapoor, yesterday regarding the m*rder of his therapist.

Today, he told me I should talk to you about where he was two nights ago.

You might not care that he tried to take his own life yesterday, but I do, so would you do us both the great favor of confirming that he has an alibi?

He was with me.

Where?

A meeting.

We brokered a sit-down between the CEO of a prominent company and a...

and a certain Antiguan bank.

Antigua.

Lovely.

Known for its barely-legal tax shelters.

I won't be naming the CEO or the bank, but I can arrange for the police to see security video of Alfonse coming and going.

Well, that would do the trick.

I do care about him, you know.

Alfonse.

He's special.

Goes through a tax code like a fishmonger through a carp.

I cared about Candace, too.

You knew her?

I'm the one who referred Alfonse.

So she was your doctor, as well?

No, no, no, no.

She was, uh, my tenant.

I own the building her offices are in.

When she applied for a lease, I found out she had a great reputation and a long waiting list.

So in exchange for seeing Alfonse, I, uh, knocked a few months off her rent.

Very economical of you.

Are you talking to her partner?

Dr.

Demopoulos?

Perhaps.

Why?

Candace had to cover his rent a few times last year, and other tenants complained that they could hear them arguing sometimes, and...

I don't know.

Alfonse isn't your guy.

Maybe Dr.

Demopoulos is.

[doorbell rings]

Lin.

You said to come by today, remember?

The check for Dad's services.

Oh, my God.

Right, right.

Come in.

Sherlock home?

Uh, just me.

New case?

Watson: Yep.

Who was she?

Watson: My therapist.

[laughs]

Right.

You're kidding, right?

I wish I was.

Are you okay?

I think I left my checkbook in the kitchen...

Joan.

You just told me this woman was your therapist.

Are you okay?

Uh, yeah.

I'm sorry, I-- you know I hadn't seen her in a long ti-- I'm fine.

You don't look fine.

[sighs]

I think I made a mistake this morning.

I looked at something I shouldn't have.

Was it these pictures?

I got access to her file on me, and...

I read something that I wasn't expecting.

What, did she think you were a serial k*ller or something?

She thought I would have been a good mother.

Lin: So, your therapist, who you haven't seen in years, was k*lled, possibly by one of her patients.

And Sherlock thought the quickest way to test that theory was to steal a few thousand pages of extremely private medical information.

He did not steal the pages, he stole her backup hard drive.

But yeah.

This morning, you decided to look at the notes she kept on you.

[sighs]

Listen, I know that I shouldn't have done it.

I just was curious, and I-- Joanie, sweetie, if they were notes on me, I would've read them at the crime scene.

I just think it's unfair.

I mean, she wrote those notes for herself, not for me.

No.

What do you mean, "no"?

I mean you're not upset because you violated some sacred trust between you and your psychiatrist.

You're upset because someone you liked and respected and admired-- someone whose job it was to help people figure out their lives-- thought you should be a mommy.

Okay?

What are you, my therapist now?

Yes.

For the duration of this visit, I am your therapist.

Would you like to lie down?

"Patient has strong maternal urges, "which she channels into her job rather than facing her fears of actually becoming a mother".

You were a sober companion back then, right?

You were helping addicts in recovery.

But this woman never told you she thought you were channeling urges?

Therapists don't just come out and tell you what they think.

They want to help you figure it out for yourself.

It's more impactful that way.

She never asked you whether you wanted kids?

She did, but that was in our getting-to-know-you phase.

I mean, it's not the reason I started seeing her.

Well, what did you tell her?

I told her I hadn't thought about it much.

Was that because of Dad?

What do you mean?

Was Dad one of the reasons why you didn't think about it much?

You knew there was a chance you could have a kid with schizophrenia.

[sighs]

You are my therapist today.

I worry about it whenever I think about kids.

How could we not?

I mean, that was part of it, yeah.

But, also, I wasn't seeing anyone back then.

I mean, kids weren't really on the horizon.

I mean, that was five years ago.

I mean, I don't know.

I guess just reading all that stuff made me think that I missed out on something.

[sighs]

[phone chimes]

Oh, it's Sherlock.

He wants me to meet him.

[phone chimes]

"Please bring a change of clothes...

and a light snack." Too bad Dr.

Reed isn't here.

She could see you already have a kid.

Too soon.

Yeah, too soon.

[indistinct police radio chatter]

Holmes: Dr.

Demopoulos.

Thank you for meeting with us.

Of course.

I was glad to hear from you, actually.

I had some questions about how to proceed once the police release this place as a crime scene.

How to proceed?

With the, uh...

cleaning.

I assume there are services for this sort of situation but I don't know how to go about finding one.

Holmes: I can provide you with several recipes for removing blood.

Sadly, none of them can remove the stain of a m*rder from one's soul.

Watson: Would you say you and Dr.

Reed had a good relationship?

We were partners in a business.

We had our ups and downs.

Why?

It's our understanding you were prone to loud arguments.

"Prone"?

It means "in the habit of".

I know what it means.

Are you here because you think I k*lled Candace?

We know that she had to cover your rent on multiple occasions.

I was having cash flow problems.

She carried me for a few months.

Did it cause resentment?

Yes.

How could it not?

You told us that you left here at 7:00 the night she was k*lled.

You had an appointment in New Rochelle.

Can you tell us who you were meeting?

Surely, you have access to her bank records.

You'll see that I paid her everything I owed her, plus interest.

You're evading, Doctor.

Who was your appointment with two nights ago?

A patient.

Watson: Let me guess.

This is where you tell us that HIPAA privacy rules "strictly forbid you" from giving us that person's name.

You know what?

I don't have time for this.

I have to see a patient at Stuyvesant Memorial.

Holmes: That's interesting, I just came from there.

Are you meeting with Alfonse Kapoor, formerly treated by Dr.

Reed?

I will talk to the patient I saw the night Candace was k*lled.

If he chooses to speak with you, he'll be in touch.

In the meantime, I'll thank you to stay away from me and my practice.

Like you said, this is an active crime scene.

We'll thank you to leave.

[indistinct police radio chatter]

Something in here you wanted to look at?

Something I wanted to return, actually.

You got what you wanted from it.

Now no one will ever know we had it.

It was plugged in under the desk.

What did you think of Demopoulos?

I think he was afraid.

But I would be, too, if someone just accused me of k*lling my business partner.

Let's just see if we hear from this patient that he said he was meeting with.

Fluorescent lights gave me a terrible headache yesterday.

I'd like to avoid having another one.

Hmm.

What?

Well, you said you wanted to put that back so that no one ever knew we took it.

But someone might already know.

I think that that is a listening device.

If it's still transmitting, and if someone's listening, they will have heard every word we said.

Watson: Got it.

I appreciate you taking the time.

Yes, and good luck with the fish.

Okay, so that was Isaac Marlowe.

The patient that Dr.

Demopoulos said he was with on Monday night.

Got fish problems, has he?

Among many, many others.

But he backed the doctor's story.

He was with him in New Rochelle at the time of the m*rder.

So Demopoulos is not our guy.

Then we are truly nowhere.

What about that?

Not much of a lead, I'm afraid.

It's just a Mic with a transmitter.

It's a common brand, it's off the rack.

And no fingerprints, nor any other way to tell who planted it in Dr.

Reed's office.

[sighs]

In that case, I wish we'd never found it.

I'm gonna lose sleep knowing that someone might have a recording of us talking about stealing all this stuff.

Well, I think you can rest easy.

We turned it off hours ago, and whoever planted it was no longer listening or has a very good reason for keeping mum.

What makes you think so?

Their deafening silence.

The dust we found on and around this device suggest it was in that light fixture for months.

That would mean that whoever put it there...

Probably has a recording of Dr.

Reed's m*rder.

And yet no such recording has found its way to the police.

You think that's because whoever planted the bug k*lled Dr.

Reed?

That's possible.

Another reason is that it was put there in the service of another crime against Dr.

Reed.

And the perpetrator cannot share their recording of her m*rder without exposing themselves.

Let's think practically.

Why would somebody bug a shrink's office?

Either to eavesdrop on her...

Or one of her patients.

Yesterday, Dr.

Reed's husband said that some of her patients were going through divorces.

Maybe one of them had a spouse who wanted to listen for secrets about an affair, or a hidden bank account.

You're looking for these.

I had the same thought earlier, but both divorce proceedings were over months ago.

So whatever Dr.

Reed knew about them, seems unlikely she'd be k*lled over them now.

Okay, um...

what about our jumper?

Alfonse's alibi checked out.

I'm not accusing him, I'm accusing the people he works for.

They could be behind the bug and the m*rder.

I mean...

Remember, we talked about these yesterday?

There was stuff about his "continuing efforts to win her over-- his obsessive detailing of work minutiae".

What if the minutiae was sensitive financial information?

Maybe he was trying to win her over by sharing it.

That could be dangerous.

Foster & Place's clients include some of the darkest stars of the corporate universe.

The thing is, if they were worried about him, why k*ll Dr.

Reed?

Wasn't Alfonse the real problem?

That depends on the perspective of the k*ller.

Mr.

Place.

Thank you for seeing us on such short notice.

Oh, don't thank me.

I would have asked you to make an appointment.

Evidently my, uh, guard dog has a soft spot for...

What was it, the...

the British accent?

Well, probably, but don't be too hard on Gina.

We told her we'd come to level a m*rder accusation at you.

I think she found that a little unsettling.

Do you care to back up and explain yourself?

No.

Not particularly.

I think you've heard quite enough from us, recently.

We'd like to hear what you have to say for a change.

What is that?

Watson: That's a listening device we found in Dr.

Reed's office.

You own the building.

It would have been easy for you to plant a bug like that.

Why would I bug Candace's office?

Perhaps you were worried about what Alfonse was telling her during those sessions.

You didn't want her to act on any of the intelligence that he was sharing with her.

I mean, firms like this, they can be touchy about that.

Based on everything I've heard, a crazy person m*rder*d Candace.

I mean, she was...

She was butchered.

Things like that are tragically easy to fake.

All one needs to mimic the actions of a violent psychopath is a willing sociopath.

And there must be plenty of those here.

We know that you were with Alfonse at the time of the m*rder.

You didn't k*ll Dr.

Reed, but maybe that's because you hired someone else to do it for you.

Or maybe, just maybe, you're not behind Dr.

Reed's violent m*rder, you just...

you just have a recording of it.

If that's the case, then you can see how it would be in your best interest to share it with us.

I've never seen that before.

No one here put it in Candace's office.

But...

just for a second, let's...

let's say they did.

It would have picked up all kinds of conversations, right?

Maybe even a couple of detectives talking about how they stole evidence from the scene of a crime.

I'm just speculating, but, um...

we might have arrived at an impasse.

Beyond this, it's possible there is only mutually assured destruction.

Well, you're a partner in a multi-billion-dollar firm.

You're answerable to the board, shareholders.

We're just a couple of police consultants that color outside the lines.

So while our, uh, destruction might be mutual, it will by no means be equal.

Come on.

Looks like we have a confession to make to our captain.

If-if I can produce a tape, you have to keep the firm out of it.

Can you agree to that?

We'll do what we can.

Give me until tomorrow morning.

Watson: Lin?

Out here.

So, what do you think, hmm?

I think that if you did not get multiple bids on this place today, then...

it's gotta be haunted.

[laughs]

It's not haunted, just massively overpriced.

Today was open house number 16.

Truth is, I'm sort of getting used to not selling it.

Means I get to enjoy the view that much longer.

It's gorgeous.

So what's up?

You know all that stuff you read yesterday, the stuff your therapist wrote about you?

It really hurt you, didn't it?

Oh, I don't know if "hurt" is the right word.

But it surprised me.

I shouldn't have joked about it.

Here's the thing: your dead therapist was a quack.

I am so, so sorry for what happened to her, but she obviously didn't get you.

Lin, you read the same notes that I did.

She totally got me.

She saw what everyone sees when they look at you.

You're smart, strong, funny, driven, compassionate.

She added all that up, and, somehow, she came up with the one thing you're not, a mom.

I'm sorry, but I think that stinks.

Everything she saw in you that matters, all your best qualities, they're not the things that would make you a great mother-- they're the things that do make you a great detective.

A great friend.

A great sister.

I don't care what you saw in that file.

If it made you unhappy or feel incomplete somehow, you're crazy.

You are the most complete person I've ever met.

[chuckles]

I-I may have had a glass of wine before you got here.

[chuckles]

Ugh.

Do you have one for me, too?

[chuckles]

[chuckles]

[whirring]

[hissing]

[grunts]

[grunts]

[grunts]

[exhales]

Looking for this?

Mr.

Clay.

You know who I am.

I put a great deal of pressure on the managing partner of a very powerful accounting firm today.

You think I would've done so without identifying the firm's fixer beforehand?

So did Sydney Place send you with a recording of Candace Reed's m*rder?

Or...

did you come to fix me?

Well, I don't have a recording for you.

I do have...

these.

"Jane Austen On Ice".

It's even worse than it sounds.

But my baby girl loves to skate.

Now you know where I was when Dr.

Reed was k*lled.

So you've broken into my home to confess that you're a good father.

Hmm.

Is that supposed to prove that your boss wasn't involved?

'Cause, in my experience, a man like Sydney Place knows more than one goon.

If Sydney was involved, I would know it.

Believe that.

Alfonse Kapoor was sharing corporate secrets with his therapist.

If word got out that Foster & Place had a leak...

We'd be screwed.

Obviously.

That's why we bugged her office.

But that's all we did.

Dr.

Reed wasn't acting on the tips Alfonse gave her, and she didn't pass them on to her friends.

There was no leak.

She took his secrets to her grave.

Well, prove it.

Provide me with an audio recording of her m*rder.

I can't.

I destroyed it days ago.

You destroyed evidence of a m*rder.

I destroyed evidence of my crime, bugging her office.

That's the other reason I came here.

To tell you there was nothing on the tape that would help you identify the k*ller.

So you listened to it?

And what did you hear?

I just told you-- nothing that's gonna help...

I'll be the judge of that.

30 minutes after her last patient left.

I think she was getting ready to go.

I heard a door open, and he was just on her.

She couldn't even scream.

She went fast, but...

he just kept stabbing and stabbing.

Never said anything?

Oh, he did.

At the end, after he was done.

But it was just gibberish.

Sounded like...

"ay-oh-nee-uh-in-imi." Say that again.

"Ay-oh-nee-uh-in-imi." You're sure that's what he said?

I probably listened to it a hundred times.

That mean something to you?

It means three things, actually.

One, you're an imbecile, 'cause there was something important on that tape.

Two, I think I know who k*lled Dr.

Reed.

And what's the third thing?

I can show you this now.

I've been making a recording of our conversation.

Now, if you don't leave my home, it, too, will end in a m*rder.

Just not mine.

Sorry, Alfonse, we're gonna have to cut this session short.

We got much to talk about.

What is this?

What's going on?

Bell: This is what we call questioning a suspect in a homicide.

If you'll excuse us?

Oh, you might want to stay close.

This man's about to need a lot more therapy.

I-I don't understand.

Sydney told me that he spoke with you.

He told you where I was the other night.

Is he watching?

Oh, yeah.

He's very curious.

What?

Apologies, Alfonse.

You're not a suspect.

Dr.

Demopoulos is.

This is not an interrogation, It's a piece of theatre.

We want him to think that we think that you're the k*ller.

Why?

I will explain, I just need you to look afraid, like I'm accusing you of something.

Last night, I was approached by an earwitness to the m*rder.

He didn't want to reveal himself to the police, unfortunately, but he did tell me that he heard the k*ller say something.

"Aionia I mnimi." Bell: It's Greek.

It means "memory eternal".

It's a phrase you might be familiar with if you grew up going to Greek Orthodox funerals.

As Dr.

Demopoulos, being of Greek immigrant parents, often did.

S-So?

That doesn't prove anything.

I said the same thing.

But then, Mr.

Holmes told me you have a bad habit of sharing insider information with your therapists.

Something to do with "transference" or something?

How-how could you know about that?

Suffice it to say, if I were you, I would stop going to see therapists who are in buildings owned by Sydney Place.

Anyway, the important thing is, Demopoulos came to see you the other day.

I assume that was not your first session with him?

Uh, no.

Uh, he and Dr.

Reed used to cover each other's patients.

I saw him a couple of times last year when she was out of town.

And you did what you always do, right?

Talked about your job, shared information that could be used to profit on the stock market?

See, he realized you were a golden goose.

And he wanted you all to himself.

No eye contact with the audience, please.

Ruins the illusion.

Alfonse: If everything that you're saying is true, then why are we even doing this?

Why don't you just arrest him?

Bell: Because.

A couple nights ago, a man named Isaac Marlowe called Mr.

Holmes and his partner to say he was with Dr.

Demopoulos in New Rochelle at the time of the m*rder.

Holmes: Mr.

Marlowe, as it turns out, is an investment banker.

We think he's partners with the doctor.

but we can't prove it, so we're hoping that this little performance will encourage the doctor to dig up evidence that we can use.

The m*rder w*apon, for example.

What do-what do you mean?

Why would he do that?

Because.

You go down for Dr.

Reed's m*rder, you can't be his meal ticket anymore.

You'd lose your job, go to prison.

If he plants evidence on someone else, on the other hand, makes it look like that person k*lled her, you're home free.

Dr.

Demopoulos is smart.

You really think he's gonna fall for this?

Mm.

Why don't you go and tell him this is gonna take a little longer and he should go on his way?

I'm not a psychiatrist, Alfonse, but I do know the criminal mind.

We'll give him an hour before he entraps himself.

Two, at the most.

♪ All I ever wanted...

♪ Yeah, Wednesday or Thursday.

Either of those days should work for me.

[doorbell rings]

Um, can I put you on hold?

Okay, thanks.

♪ Something wrong...

♪ Hey, come on in.

Hey.

Your partner home?

Yes and no.

He's here, but he is floating in a metal box filled with saltwater.

Want me to get him for you?

No, I just thought you'd both want to know it's done.

Dr.

Demopoulos was arrested a little while ago.

So he went for the m*rder w*apon.

Straight from the hospital.

Two plainclothes officers followed him to a dumpster a couple miles from his office building.

Caught him red-handed.

That's fantastic.

I was headed to the precinct, if you want to join for the interrogation.

Do you need me?

I just have, like, an hour before I have to pull him out of the t*nk, and I just thought I'd take advantage of the time to get some of my own work done.

Trust me, I get it.

I wish I could put him in a box sometimes.

I'll see you later.

Okay.

Thanks.

♪ Ooh, ooh...

♪ Hi.

All right, thanks for holding.

Oh, we were talking about Wednesday or Thursday.

Uh, no, Tuesday won't work.

I have an appointment with another attorney.

Yes, I'm sure that Mr.

Picard is the best, but I want to do my due diligence.

If I decide to do this, I want to make sure I do it right.