I told you already, I took the Hyzaar.
I take it again, I'm gonna have to go.
I'm always going.
Okay, Mr. Wanamaker says he already
took his meds for the day.
What do you think, Carrie?
Well, Mr. Wanamaker, you took your Ependramine--
two pills, ten milligrams-- at 8:48
and three Prevacid 20's at 1:17,
which would make you due for your Hyzaar right about now.
March 27, 1998.
Oh... Come on, Carrie.
Do your thing.
I swear, I'll take all my pills.
All right.
All right, all right, all right.
March 27, 1998 was
a Friday.
Sunrise was at 5:45...
5:46 a.m.
The Knicks beat the Grizzlies
97-89 for their 40th win,
and most important of all around here,
the FDA approved... Viagra.
(both laugh)
Fantastic.
I'll take my pills.
All right.
Hey, hey, hey.
Hey, I got it. Here.
(turns up volume)
Thank you, Miss.
Are you new here?
No, you and me go way back.
Oh, this is a good one.
This is where Ray has to go on a cruise with Marie.
(chuckles)
You know, you're good at this.
If you ever want an actual job.
I have a job.
In fact, tonight I think I'm gonna ask for a little raise.
(laughs): Okay, good luck.
Luck?
Who said anything about luck?
*
21. Winner.
Yeah.
(laughs)
Yeah.
Whew.
Norman would like to talk to you.
Could Norman wait for a minute?
'Cause I'm doing really great here.
Sit down.
There's lowlifes and lower lifes,
then there's card counters.
You're famous, lady.
Last month, you were thrown out of the Bel Air,
the Mexicana and the Atlantic Aladdin.
I don't really recall.
Give me my money back.
Give it back now, and we're done.
Or better, we should add some interest.
I know what interests me.
Okay, all right, I was at the Aladdin a couple weeks ago.
You should know, you were there.
Yeah, you were palling around with that big bald guy,
scar on his left cheek, no pinky?
Milosz? What the hell you doing with Milosz, Isaac?
She's lying. It wasn't me.
Sure it was.
You were wearing a leather jacket-- epaulets, brown,
three buttons. The Varvatos?
I gave you that jacket.
Norm, think about it-- why would I be with Milosz?
Maybe I can help you out with that.
You were talking about Bayonne.
Something to do with container tracks.
Trucks. Container trucks.
You told that schmuck about Bayonne?
Yeah, he did.
You shut up!
I never talked to the guy, I swear!
Yeah, well, we'll see.
Go!
Oh, come on, sweetheart.
Put the big gun down.
You don't know how to use it.
Sit down.
* Hey, hey, hey
* I love my life, I love this record and *
* Mi amore vole fe yah *
Taxi!
* 'Cause God makes no mistakes
* I'm on the right track...
(music fades)
(man and woman laughing)
(seagulls squawking faintly)
(ocean waves sloshing)
(clattering in distance)
(gasps softly)
(man and woman shouting in distance)
(crash, woman screams)
(footsteps running downstairs)
Carrie?
(gasps)
Call 911.
Okay.
What do we got?
Name is Catherine Grant,
early 30's, looks to be a stabbing.
According to the building manager,
she's been a tenant three months,
paid her rent pretty regular.
Just a "nice, quiet girl." His words.
Mr. Lin on the third floor-- he's the one
who called you guys.
And this was at what time?
Uh, 3:15, I think...
Any witnesses?
Nada. Uh...
Didn't really look at
the clock until, uh, sometime after 3:30.
Roe is finishing up with her now.
A lot of help. Great.
Okay, thanks.
Okay, uh, front doors at each entryway are locked,
but someone could've buzzed in a stranger.
Might not be a stranger.
Let's run all the tenants.
Is that yesterday's suit?
So, I had a date.
It was going well.
Body's out back.
(camera clicks in distance)
Weapon?
Uniforms doing an area.
Nothing so far.
No forced entry.
Handbag and wallet were still up on the shelf.
About 80 bucks.
If he was after something,
wasn't money.
Here, show you something.
Catherine Grant on the lease, right?
And the supermarket card says Catherine Isaacs.
Married name.
Yeah, what I thought, except
expired driver's license: Gail Isaacs.
They lifted a few prints,
mostly partials.
But better still, got a cell phone.
Maybe find some friends or family.
Friends and family usually
end up on the fridge-- nothing there.
No knickknacks,
snapshots from the past, phone numbers.
And her books are all romance novels.
This was a lonely woman.
I got nothing on my fridge.
My point. You should get out more.
Oh, come on.
He's gonna put his weapon back?
It's what's not here.
Most popular knife there is,
chef's knife.
A weapon of convenience.
Could mean he didn't
come to kill her.
Consistent with what I got.
Lady found the body says it started as a fight,
he got her once upstairs, she takes off,
he follows, finishes her outside.
Gotta love CSI.
Everybody's an expert now.
She say how she came up
with this scenario?
You can ask her yourself.
C. Wells, 216.
What's her name?
Carrie Wells.
What'd she look like?
Mid-30's, red hair, pretty.
That's all?
She looked like a witness, Al.
I think I'll go talk to her.
All right.
I'm with you, boss. I'm okay.
Oh, I, uh, thought
'cause I did the initial...
I'm okay.
(knocking)
You don't have to break it down.
I heard you.
Nice to see you, too.
May I enter?
Well, that depends.
You have probable cause?
What the hell are you doing here?
Uh, I live here.
What are you doing here?
Investigating a murder.
We look around, ask questions, you remember how that works.
I mean, what are you doing in New York?
Trying to move up in the world.
You always were driven, Al.
Look who's talking.
Oh, no, I gave all that up.
Yeah, I can tell.
So, married?
Children?
Girlfriend. Oh.
Not Linda Perini.
Who's Linda Perini?
EMT, five-six, annoying lisp,
that girl you always said you were gonna leave me for.
You left me, by the way, and that wasn't the reason.
That's right, it's because I'm an obsessive cataloguer
of people's faults who stores slights and injuries
like some kind of freak bulldog
who will never let go unless you forcibly break her grip.
Don't look at me like that.
You said it.
I never said that.
August 14, 2002, 2:36 a.m.,
hot night, no rain, there were crickets.
Okay, all right, I was angry, I was frustrated, I was...
Insensitive.
And I'm too sensitive.
* Ta-da!
The investigation was over, Carrie.
It was over. There were no leads,
no hope, and it was destroying you.
You gave up.
I did what I thought was right for us.
Well, we all know how that turned out.
For us.
Great.
Now that we got that out of the way... Yep.
Can you help me here?
Catherine Grant, 316.
I was sleeping, I heard a fight.
He must've chased her down the stairs.
I went outside, checked her vitals,
made sure someone called it in. That's all I got.
You heard the fight?
Yeah.
But I just heard stuff being knocked around.
Nothing specific.
I'm sorry, wish I had more.
Okay.
Well, thanks for your help.
Call if you think of anything.
Well, why else would I call?
Like I said, nice to see you.
Hey, Al.
I, um...
I hope you get your guy.
She had lots of pay stubs from, uh, temp agencies--
mostly secretarial stuff.
Queens, the Bronx, some in the city.
You get the last place she worked?
Not yet.
The coroner confirms
multiple stab wounds to the chest and abdomen,
consistent with-- thank you, Al--
a six- to eight-inch chef's knife,
unfortunately, still missing.
But the good news is
we got some hair from under her fingernails.
Examiner's doing a DNA workup.
Anything from her phone?
Dumped the cell, just waiting for the records.
Here's what's bugging me.
Catherine Grant, Catherine Isaacs,
whatever her name is-- it's like she's got no past.
Can't find an old address. No journals,
no letters, no photos.
Not even a postcard from some stupid vacation somewhere.
We got a hit from Catherine's prints.
This time as Jennifer Goodwin.
Busted for prostitution
in 1995.
'95?
Wow, she must have been a kid.
Just get me the last place she temped.
I want to find someone who knows this woman.
Maybe we already have.
Those unidentified latents we found in her apartment--
one of the prints belongs to the neighbor.
C. Wells, 216.
Mid-30s, red hair, pretty.
She says she barely knew the vic, right?
What's she even doing in the system?
Interesting question.
As it turns out, Carrie Wells' prints track back
to a NYSID number from the Syracuse PD,
1997 to 2002.
She was a cop.
Syracuse PD.
That's your old haunt, Al, isn't it?
How'd it go last night?
Your luck?
Oh, yeah. It kind of ran out.
(chuckles)
(echoing): Rachel!
You okay, Carrie?
Yeah. Fine.
Speaking of fine.
The plan was I call you, remember?
Yeah, well, I also remember you don't call.
Why didn't you say you knew Catherine Grant?
I didn't know her. We were neighbors.
I saw her around, I said hi.
How come your prints were in her apartment?
I don't know.
I helped her carry in some groceries a few weeks ago.
And you didn't mention this because...?
Because A: it wasn't relevant, and B: your kid never asked me.
That's sloppy, Detective.
You can't stop being a cop.
Oh, I can, and I did.
So you're a nurse now?
No. I volunteer. It's nice.
My friends at Midvale aren't exactly hung up on the past,
unlike me.
It's why you were a good detective.
Nothing got by you.
Yeah, like the look of that kid
who blew his own head off with a 12-gauge
'cause his crackhead dad forgot to lock it up.
Some things you want to forget.
After nine years off the force, I almost can.
And Rachel?
The idea that I could maybe solve her murder
is how I survived the kids and the shotguns.
And when you shut that investigation down,
I couldn't do it anymore.
I just-- I couldn't do it anymore.
That's why I left Syracuse.
That's why I can't help you now.
Did I say anything about helping?
You're gonna.
What, you read minds now?
Oh, I can read yours.
All right, look, we got nothing on this one.
No motive, no weapon, no friends or family.
Not even sure we got a name.
I'm not asking you to help as a cop,
I'm asking you to help as a witness.
I didn't see anything, Al. I didn't see anything.
You don't know what you saw.
You know what I mean.
Aren't we supposed to hold hands or something?
If there's chanting, I am so out.
*
(door opening)
There's a shadow.
I didn't notice it before.
Where?
Someone was here.
He was hiding here.
Why didn't you run?
If it's a Derek Jeter rookie card, it's mine.
She's got a great memory, that's all.
So does my Aunt Jacquie. She remembers every birthday.
But Aunt Jacquie wasn't the youngest detective
in the history of the Syracuse police department.
She worked homicide for you?
Highest clearance rate in the department.
And so she remembers what, like, facts and stuff?
Fact patterns, crime scenes, witness testimony.
Once she's got 'em, she's got 'em.
And she doesn't forget anything?
She can't forget anything.
It's a medical thing.
Hyperthymesia. Only five or six people
in the whole country have it.
Did you check upstairs? How're you gonna bring her on?
I'll run her as a consultant, just this one time.
All right, you want the good news or the bad news? Surprise me.
The bad news-- no prints on the knife.
Good news-- pay stubs came through.
We found her last place of work.
MIKE: Early 30's. Would have called herself Catherine Grant.
Yeah, I remember this one. She temped here
for a while when Lourdes left to take care of her mother.
And when was this?
I don't know, a few months ago.
My girl can give you the dates.
Do you remember, did she have any problems
with any of the other employees?
Not that I know of.
The only reason I remember her at all,
is she rented a van from us for a couple days.
Did she say why she wanted a van?
Yeah, actually, something about moving out on a boyfriend.
She seemed in a hurry.
You got a sec? Sure.
Okay, I've been looking at the crime scene photos
from Catherine's apartment.
Look at this.
The spacing is weird.
Frame, frame, nothing.
That's an empty hanging hook.
Something was there. Something worth taking down.
You were in her apartment.
Be nice to know what it was.
You can put it there.
CARRIE: Nice flowers.
I love flowers.
CATHERINE: You live downstairs, right?
Yeah. Uh-huh. CATHERINE: If I make too much noise,
just bang on the ceiling. CARRIE: That's okay.
CATHERINE: No, do it.
Carrie, what's going on? Can you see the wall?
I'm Catherine, by the way.
Carrie.
You're right. There's a photo.
Catherine and another woman. It's not recent.
What's the woman look like?
Dark hair.
About the same age. They could almost be sisters.
They look happy.
Here.
Oh. Thanks.
(clearing throat)
So I guess the question is who is our mystery woman?
You okay?
Nice job.
No go on Catherine's old boyfriend.
He was at his sister-in-law's in Mamaroneck
night of the murder.
Says the sister-in-law.
Says his Easy Pass.
He took the Triborough to the Bruckner, and up 95.
Back the next morning.
Wow. Guess you really can take the boy out of Syracuse.
You know the only thing I miss?
Those Maui burgers at Eddie Coyne's.
Right? (laughing): Yes.
Otherwise, wasn't the same without you.
I had a friend in Queens North.
It's different down here.
I like the vibe.
What about you? Why New York?
Why Queens?
Can still get a one-bedroom for under $1,200.
(chuckles)
I don't know, I just...
Something about the energy of this city.
It's good for me.
All the faces, all the lives--
even I can't track them.
You look good, Carrie.
You want something?
They got pecan pie.
No, I'm off sugar.
If I get some, If you get some,
you'll have a bite? I'll have a bite. Yeah.
AL: You have a nice neck.
So I've been told.
Mm.
AL: Did you know there's a nerve
right under the levator scapulae
that leads all the way down to the pelvic floor?
You know, given the circumstances,
that might be the dirtiest thing I've ever heard.
You okay?
Yeah.
I got it with French vanilla.
So shoot me.
It's a huge piece of pie.
(phone ringing) Mm-hmm.
(laughs)
Yeah, Mike, where are you?
So, according to Catherine Grant's phone records,
she made a lot of calls to a disposable cell phone
over the past three months.
Now, these end abruptly, two and a half weeks ago.
Then we have a bunch of one-minute calls
to a Steven Latman, a successful lawyer,
who, it so happens, is about to get married.
They were having an affair.
That's what I'm thinking.
Disposable phone, very discreet.
Latman decides to call it quits,
our girl goes ballistic,
calls him repeatedly at his home, and he ignores her.
Okay, but it's a little light, no?
Does this add some weight?
One of the places Catherine temped last year
was at City Sports Club,
where a Mr. Steven Latman
is a member in good standing.
I appreciate you people are just doing your job,
and I've always had the deepest respect
for the Department, in and out of court.
Queens Police, great police, but...
this is about a phone call?
16 calls, actually.
All within a 48-hour period.
All under a minute, all from
a very dead woman named Catherine Grant.
Look around, guys. I'm getting married.
I've got people coming in and out of here all day long.
You think I can keep track of who uses the phone?
I've got a wedding planner,
decorator, her crew
and a caterer who practically lives here
and, right now, requires my attention.
Yes, sir. Wendy.
Are you a member of the City Sports Club?
Yes, for many years.
MIKE: Were you aware that Catherine Grant
was an employee there?
No. Look, I'm really sorry about this woman...
So you never met her?
Well, I may have met her.
I may have smiled at her.
Maybe she even got me a towel.
WOMAN: Steve?
Now, if you'll forgive me...
I'd like to get him a towel.
The woman in the photo--
it's her.
(no audio)
No. Sorry.
So, to be clear, you don't know her
as Catherine Grant or Catherine Isaacs
or Jennifer Goodwin.
Ms. Wilson already told you
she has no knowledge of this person.
So there'd be no reason for her to call your home,
which she did nearly two dozen times.
None that I can think of.
Maybe to call your fiancé?
Steve says he doesn't know her.
I trust him absolutely.
So there's your answer.
NINA: Ms. Wilson,
you took your high school equivalency exam
on June 7, 1993, at Mid-Manhattan
Adult Learning Center-- is that right?
Yes, but I don't understand what that has to do with anything.
NINA: That... that's funny,
because what I don't understand is why
before June 7, 1993, you don't seem to exist.
No school records, residences, driver's license...
STURGIS: I think we're almost done here.
These calls to and from a disposable cell phone
from a Rite-Aid two blocks from your office...
STURGIS: Midtown Manhattan, work population two million.
Nice try.
You say you don't know Catherine Grant--
you never heard of Catherine Grant--
so what are you doing in a photo with her?
What photo?
We have a photograph of your client with the deceased.
Well, would you care to produce this photo?
Of course.
You saw her, right? She's the one?
Yep.
I really don't like being lied to, to my face.
I want to know where she was,
who she was before Park Avenue,
and why her relationship with Catherine
should be such a damn secret.
I'll sweat her all day if I have to.
With what? With her nonexistent past, for one thing.
Yeah, well, good luck with that, 'cause in case you
hadn't noticed, he's about a second away
from shutting it down in there.
I'm sorry if you don't approve of my tactics.
What tactics? Bringing up evidence you don't have?
She's sitting in there lying to us.
If I have a shot at her, I'm going to take it.
She's not lying to mess with your investigation.
Her whole life is a lie.
Well, I'm sorry if there's some
deep, dark trauma in her past
that she, and apparently you, are afraid of disturbing.
Okay... all I'm trying to do, if you would listen,
is tell you what will and what will not work
in a murder investigation. That's it.
No, what you're doing is you're bringing
your past, your pain to the table,
and if you remember, that's exactly what messes you up.
Go to hell.
(grunts)
That's all for now.
Thank you for coming in.
Aah!
Damn it.
(gasps)
(indistinct chatter)
Henry, right?
You ever find Wendy Wilson in the system?
No luck. We don't have her prints.
We do now.
Ms. Wilson... Carrie Wells.
You, uh... have you got a minute?
My lawyer advised me not to speak with the police.
I already told you, I didn't know that woman.
I'm not the police,
and I'm not here to talk about Catherine.
Actually...
actually, I'd like to talk about Mallory Evans.
I have nothing to say about Mallory Evans.
Well, that surprises me.
It does, because I... I think she is a very...
impressive woman.
Born in Ohio.
Alcoholic mom.
Abused by her stepfather.
Ran away to New York as a teenager.
Fell in with some bad people.
Did some bad things.
Even got herself a police record.
Prostitution.
But she pulled herself out of it.
Changed her name.
Got an education.
A career.
And now...
she is about to marry a very successful lawyer,
who, I have to say, looks really hot in Prada.
Sounds like quite a life.
It's a rare person who can do what she did.
What you did.
Whatever.
Your friend Catherine,
she had a hard life, too, didn't she?
My life was hard.
(voice breaking): Hers was a disaster.
Her real name was Olya.
From Minsk.
(chuckles)
Thought it was a joke the first time I heard it.
She came here when she was 15.
Some Russian guys promised her a job.
They sold her to this family out on the island.
She was a maid for this guy and his wife.
Wife used to beat her up when she dropped a dish.
And the guy...
well, the scumbag did what scumbags do
to 15-year-old girls who don't have anyone to protect them.
She got out eventually.
We were both working out of this club in Woodmere.
They busted the whole place, put us in a group together--
12-step thing.
I tried to help her, you know,
get a job, get a place, a decent man.
It worked out... for a while.
It's okay.
And then?
She called me, all excited.
Said she'd run into the guy. What guy?
The old guy from Long Island.
She was going to blackmail him.
She's asking this guy for more and more money.
And then she called me at Steve's, and that was it.
I told her she was on her own.
We said we'd always be there for each other.
I just couldn't.
Wendy, what was the name of the guy,
the one she was blackmailing?
She wouldn't say his name.
All I know is she ran into him at work.
When was this?
About three or four months ago.
I don't know the name of the place.
Oh, that's okay.
I do.
Just want to ask you a few more questions.
No, I'm happy to help in any way I can.
AL: We need to talk to your older employees--
anyone over 50 or so.
That's the easiest one I had all day.
Hey, Tony.
You got a sec?
TONY: Something the matter?
So, no one else in their 50s, 60s?
That sucks, huh?
Thought we had it.
Excuse me. It's Jill, right?
Yeah.
Whose office is this?
This is Ken's dad's.
He only comes in on Wednesdays and Fridays.
Well, today is Friday. Yeah, I know.
He called in yesterday, said he was sick.
Really.
So you were giving her money.
She figured she earned it.
Suppose she did.
But I had to leave something for my family.
Got it. Old man's DNA matches the hair
under Catherine's fingernails-- four regions.
Yeah, I don't think we need it.
Guy went down when he heard
we had his fingerprints in her apartment.
(over speaker): I went over there to tell her, you know,
no more.
And then what happened?
(sighs)
She went crazy, said she was gonna call the cops.
So I tried to calm her down, you know, to hold her.
I still had affection for her.
All of a sudden, she goes for the phone,
and I-I grabbed the knife.
I guess I went a little crazy, too.
(crying softly)
Taking off?
Yep.
So, you were right...
about Wendy.
Admit it, you're good at this.
You should come back.
No, I'm done.
Look, I didn't tell you this before...
but ever since I found Catherine lying there,
I've, uh...
been getting lost again.
The woods?
Yeah.
Only this time...
I'm seeing Rachel...
her body in the water.
I've been in those woods a thousand times before
and I've never seen that.
I can't do this.
I've worked really hard
to get to a good place in my life,
and I can't come back to this if it means giving up
everything I've worked for.
When I met you, everything was about Rachel.
But the one day that really matters,
that might have the answer, you could never remember.
And now you're starting to.
Don't you see?
You weren't ready for it then, now you are.
And if there's more to discover,
I can help.
If there's more to discover, I'll handle it.
What, alone?
Sure, it's worked for me before.
Bedpans and blackjack?
Trust me, that's not "working."
Trust you?
Yeah.
You know...
I trusted you before,
and, um, you gave up.
I gotta go.
This way, Mr. Harbert.
(shoe sliding across floor)
(woman screams, thudding)
(couple laughing)
(laughter echoing)
*
(laughter echoing)
(paper tears)
(no voice)
(phone rings) Hey, it's Henry.
It's Carrie Wells. What kind of DNA test
did the examiner run on Frank Harbert?
Uh, you wanted it yesterday,
so they just did a quickie-- a Y chrome.
Okay, can you run a full STR, PCR,
whatever they got? Yeah, sure.
(phone buzzes)
(recorded): Hey, it's Al. Leave a message.
(voicemail beeps)
Mr. Harbert?
(clattering)
What're you doing here?
Where is everybody?
Most of my employees were pretty upset.
I gave 'em the night off.
Right.
It's a bunch of crap, you know.
I grew up in that house.
Had a lot of nannies,
babysitters, when I was young.
That woman wasn't one of 'em!
Some nutjob trying to make a buck.
Yeah, no, I-I think you're right; I do.
It doesn't any make any sense that your father confessed.
I don't understand.
Well, we did a pretty basic DNA test.
Only problem is close relatives,
then tend to match out the same, you know?
Where were you that night, Ken?
I was at home, asleep.
You sure weren't at Bella's Pizzeria on 35th Street,
off of 31st Avenue, having a cup of coffee?
I want a lawyer.
Or you could take a DNA test.
I'm not taking any test.
What'd you want me to do?
She had him by the short hairs.
He's a sweet guy, he's not gonna stand up for himself.
I told him to tell her, "No more."
I knew he couldn't do it.
So you followed him.
I wanted to make sure.
I was gonna go in with him, but I didn't want him to see me.
So you waited in the pizza place till he was gone,
and then you... murdered Catherine Grant.
Stop calling her Catherine Grant!
She was some Russian whore that we took in,
and this is how she repays us?
I don't care what he did!
She should've shut up and gone away!
Why didn't she shut up and go away?!
(Ken groans)
(Ken grunting)
(both grunting)
(Carrie grunts)
You shouldn't have come alone.
(Carrie gasps)
She didn't.
(grunts)
Why the hell didn't you wait for me?
Why the hell didn't you answer your phone?
Had it on vibrate.
You know, given the circumstances,
that might be the dirt...
...dirtiest thing you ever heard?
(panting)
Raymond'll be home in a minute.
He's gonna be so mad.
Nurse, do you know if my daughter's coming today?
She said she was.
Well, she said she couldn't make it today, Alice,
but she will be here tomorrow for sure.
She's a good girl, my Rachel.
She never forgets me.
There you go.
Thank you, Miss.
What did you say your name was?
Carrie.
You know, my younger daughter's name is Carrie.
She's a police officer.
I know.
GINA: Carrie...
your cute detective left this with Janine.
Thank you.
*
Rachel!
You okay?
Yeah.
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