Previously on The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair...
I'm sorry I hit you.
I didn't mean to hit you.
Please, please open up, Harry!
Oh, Reverend, I, uh, heard about Nola.
Is she all right?
You, uh, you probably heard she tried to commit suicide.
Yes, I did.
She had a headache,
and she picked up the wrong medicine.
Oh. Oh, well, that makes sense.
You're a writer.
Why don't you write the truth
about that twisted son of a bitch,
'cause he killed Nola.
And in some ways, killed my Jenny, too.
Mom, I don't think he's coming.
Of course he is.
I'm sure he just got caught up with his writing.
Quebert?
Quebert!
"Nola, my darling"?
"Were you to die, where would my love go?"
All right, listen,
we're gonna put your book out in the fall.
That means you have one and a half months
to finish it.
I'm sorry, a month and a half?
That's... that's... that's insane.
You do this for me, right,
I will rip up your old contract,
I will give you an advance of one million dollars.
To what do I owe the honor
of this unannounced visit?
I'm investigating
the death of Nola Kellergan.
Now, a witness saw her
getting into your chauffeur's car
several times the summer she disappeared.
My chauffeur, Luther Caleb,
was a brave and honest man.
You have your killer, Mr. Goldman.
Well, I'm not convinced of his guilt,
which is why I'm here.
Who the fuck is Luther Caleb?
Who else knew about Nola and Harry
besides Mrs. Quinn,
and then, why didn't Chief Pratt question Harry
after Mrs. Quinn told him
what she found?
Who's Tamara again?
Never mind, I shouldn't even be telling you
any of this.
Sweetie, who am I gonna tell?
Yeah, look, Mom, I should go, okay?
I'll talk to you later.
Hey, thanks for listening.
I told you to wait!
Wait for what, Sergeant?
Evidence to fall from the sky?
Look, all I did was pay him a visit, okay?
Look what I found in his house.
It's a nude painting.
Look closer, Sherlock.
Yeah, that's a naked painting
of Nola Kellergan
in Elijah Stern's house, okay?
Signed...
"LC."
His chauffeur, Luther Caleb.
When I brought him up, Stern went radio silent.
You searched his house without authorization.
Those photos are illegal.
Inadmissible.
No, no, no.
You can still go after him.
I mean, he doesn't know I've seen the paintings.
All right, um...
Hmm.
All right, talk to your friend, Quebert.
See what he knows about Stern
and his relationship
to the dead girl.
I'll look into the chauffeur.
Okay, you want me to ask Harry if the girl
he's been in love with for three decades
was having an affair with Elijah Stern?
That's what friends are for.
Yeah, okay.
Marissa!
Let's go with those pages!
"Dear Roy,"
it's not a trashy book
"that will exploit the scandal in order to sell copies..."
What's Goldman's excuse now?
"It's not a book I'm writing"
because you're demanding it.
"It's a book I'm writing because I have to."
"If you like what you read, call me."
If you don't, call your lawyers.
"Please give my best regards to..."
Marissa!
Hold my calls.
You get my email?
It's gold.
This draft is pure gold.
Well, it's not a draft yet, Roy.
They're just pages.
Well, these are the pages
of a bestseller right here.
Jesus.
Murder, child abuse,
her affairs with older, more powerful men.
My God.
Look...
let's just call the original contract
null and void, okay?
You can deliver me this manuscript
by the end of August...
End of August? End of August,
I will give you a $1.3 million advance.
Uh...
Whoa. That's, um...
Holy shit!
Don't make me regret it, okay?
So, does Quebert know yet?
No.
No, not yet. Soon.
Well, the sooner the better.
We wanna avoid a lawsuit
from death row.
What made you change your mind,
if you don't mind my asking?
Well, I got some threatening letters.
Someone seems pretty nervous
about what I might discover, so...
it seemed the truth
might be worth
writing a book about, you know?
Can you imagine
if somebody tried to kill you? You could add a zero
onto the sales figures.
Two, if they actually succeeded.
Okay.
Thanks, Roy.
Bye.
Bye, kid.
"The Origin of Evil"
by accused author Harry Quebert
has been removed from schools
and banned in libraries across the country.
Out of respect for the victims,
the publisher Schmid and Hanson have announced
they will not be reprinting,
and that they are pulling all copies
of the recent re-release.
It's the intelligentsia's version of the electric chair.
I'm writing again.
Fantastic.
I'm doing a book.
Yeah.
It's about you, Harry.
You and Nola.
And I'd like your blessing, if you'd be willing to give it.
Don't write it in the name of friendship.
Write it because you have to.
Okay.
Will you do me a favor?
Yeah.
You have to make sure this is in the book.
Okay.
Let me know when you're ready.
Nola loved operas.
She said the best operas, the most beautiful operas,
were tragic love stories...
I wanna leave, Harry.
Yeah.
Doctor says you have to be here
for a few more days.
No...
I wanna leave Sommerdale.
Ah.
We'll never be happy here.
You're going to the Summer Gala tonight, right?
I don't know.
I promised Maggie Pratt I would,
but I'm not in the mood now.
You have to go, Harry!
Who am I going to talk to?
It doesn't matter!
Ever since we moved here, I've dreamt of going.
My mom wouldn't let me.
You have to go,
and I'll be there with you.
Inside your head.
Oh, no.
Yeah! No.
I'll be there with you in spirit.
All right.
You have to go and tell me everything, okay?
Okay.
Every single detail.
Show some excitement!
I will.
What?
Nothing.
You sure?
Yes.
You seem a bit distant.
No, I'm right here.
Okay.
All right, you've talked me into going to the Gala.
Yes!
Yes! You're gonna love it!
So against my better judgment,
I went to the Gala.
I knew it was a mistake the moment I arrived.
I kept thinking of Nola
and what she'd done.
I felt guilty that it was my fault
that she tried to take her own life.
I couldn't look at anyone
for fear they'd see the guilt written all over my face
clear as day.
I should have stayed with her,
talked with her,
made her promise
that she would never do something like that again.
But her face,
she was so fragile, so vulnerable...
Evening.
Excuse me.
Harry!
My goodness, is everything okay?
You're sweating.
Oh, no. Yes, I'm fine.
It's just, uh... excuse me...
It's very... very warm.
Corduroy pants at a Summer Gala...
I'll have them turn up the air.
Come.
I've put you at the head table,
where everyone can see
our famous New York celebrity.
Harry Quebert,
allow me to present Elijah Stern,
who generously funds this gala.
Oh.
He also owns the house you're renting
at Goose Cove.
Now, you two get acquainted
while I find the rest of our table.
Yes, well, my landlord.
Mr. Stern. Pleasure.
Elijah, please.
It's a pleasure
to finally meet the estimable author
who has the whole town talking.
Oh, is that so?
You really do.
Thank you, well, that's...
They speak of little else.
Ah, well...
I understand you're spending your time
at Goose Cove
working on a new book.
Yes, I am.
It's a romantic novel,
a bit slow-going at the moment.
Are you in love?
Why do you ask that?
Well...
I just wondered if you had to be in love
in order to write a love story.
Hmm.
I'd wanted to be a writer myself, or...
an artist of any kind.
In school, I wrote one or two things,
and they were so lamentably bad
that I was encouraged
to try almost anything else,
and as we came from a certain amount of money,
and an established business,
I was encouraged to go into that
and not to follow my artistic spirit
any farther.
What kind of a love story is it?
It's a story of forbidden love.
It's bound to be a bestseller.
An all-expense-paid,
one-week stay for two
at the luxurious Bear Lake Lodge
in the Adirondacks.
And the winner is...
1-5-2-1.
1-5-2-1, come on.
- Harry? - Yes?
That's you. 1-5-2-1.
You've won the big prize.
1-5-2-1 right here!
And the winner is
our very own illustrious author,
Harry Quebert!
Yeah, he's won the free trip to the, uh...
the Adirondacks.
Jen, please.
Hey, who's gonna be the lucky gal, Harry?
That's for two!
Uh...
Who's the lucky girl?
All right, let's dance!
Can I drop you somewhere?
I have my car, thank you.
I'd like to introduce you to my right-hand man.
He's an exceptional gardener as well.
If you don't mind,
I'd like to send him over to Goose Cove
to take care of the rose bushes.
The last one they sent from the agency
let all my plants die.
Harry Quebert.
Good evening, Mr. Quebert.
My name is Luther Caleb.
Very nice to meet you.
Good evening.
I was still badly shaken
by those words I'd seen
scrawled across the bathroom mirror.
Someone was watching me.
Us.
I'd been feeling it for weeks now.
I thought I was just being paranoid,
but now I knew.
There was no place I could hide.
I always kept my door unlocked,
but now I felt like even my house wasn't safe.
I could feel that someone had been inside.
My papers, my desk,
I could tell someone had been there.
And that's when I realized it was missing.
The note I'd written about Nola,
about my feelings for her the day of her suicide attempt,
it was gone.
Someone had taken it.
It was Tamara Quinn.
She stole the note.
Yeah, she was angry that you didn't show up
and the garden party she threw.
She felt you had humiliated her,
and humiliated Jenny.
And she got pissed off,
went to your house,
and she claims that she found what you'd written about Nola,
and she stole it.
What?
She was gonna use it against you.
But before she could,
it disappeared.
That explains her behavior
the next day.
Hey.
So, you lucky man, you.
Who you gonna take to the Aniron...
Adirondacks?
Oh, I don't know.
I'll probably just use the time
to work on my novel.
It seems like such a... such a waste
to go to, you know, a beautiful place alone.
Yeah, well, it's nice to have the...
There are other customers, Jenny!
Excuse me.
Mm-hm.
Good morning.
I've been going over your account, Mr. Quebert.
Yes.
And I would like you to pay what you owe us
by the end of the week.
We will not be extending any more credit.
Oh, I understand, Mrs. Quinn,
and I want to apologize profusely for missing your...
I'm not interested in your excuses.
Oh, and I received your lovely,
and I hope very expensive flowers,
which went right into the garbage.
I'd been spending without keeping track,
nearly $600 on food and drink,
just so I could be near her.
Near Nola.
I was oblivious to the fact
that my savings were down to practically nothing.
And now...
an invoice from the real estate agent.
It's good, I thought,
I would have to leave now.
I had no choice.
Yes, this is Harry Quebert.
I'm renting the Goose Cove property from Mr. Stern.
No, yes, I have that.
I have that right now.
Um, unfortunately, I have business in New York,
and I will need to terminate my contract
starting August 1st.
No, it's been wonderful, thank you.
Mm-hm.
Yeah, no, I'm sorry.
Yes.
Yeah, no, I can drop the keys off
on my way out of town.
Okay.
Great, thank you.
What's going on?
Nola...
Who were you talking to?
What?
Who were you talking to?
Um...
I'm sorry, I...
I was talking to the rental agency
about this house.
I have to be honest with you.
I'm not some...
famous writer with a lot of money.
I...
I can't afford this house.
I wish I could stay.
So you're just gonna leave?
No...
No.
I have a plan.
So you're not gonna leave?
No, I am going to leave.
I...
I can't afford to stay here.
But we'll find a way.
I'm gonna go back to my job in New York
as a teacher,
and...
you can come visit me.
It's not that far.
And we can talk on the phone.
No...
And then when you're 18, you can...
you can come to New York, and...
That's three years away from now!
Go to school.
It won't be that long.
Yes, it will, it's three years!
It's not that long.
Yes, it is!
I can't stay here.
I just don't have the money.
Yes, you can.
How?
We'll find us a way. We'll find...
It doesn't matter! We'll make it work.
We always make it work!
Don't you love me?
That... that... that's not the point.
Do you love me?
Yes.
Then all this...
That's all that matters.
You can't leave me.
Taking her to the Adirondacks
was a mistake.
I should never have said yes.
She thought that by being there,
it would free us
to be something that we couldn't be,
but nothing happened between us.
I tried to get another room,
but there wasn't one available.
I slept outside on the balcony on a chair.
It was the longest night of my life.
I can't make you believe me.
I can't make anyone believe me,
but it's the truth.
You like to swim, right?
Yes.
Okay, good.
Nola?
Nola, can I come in?
Sommerdale Police.
Sommerdale Police, hello?
Harry?
Mm-hm.
Look.
What am I looking at?
Them.
No one here is looking at us.
She wanted so badly
for this to be a time she'd always remember,
to believe we could have a future together.
One, two, three...
Oh, that was a really good one...
I tried to keep up the pretense,
knowing that we would be returning to real life
soon enough.
Nola!
Tell me you'll be here tomorrow.
Nola...
You can't leave, Harry.
I'll bring you warm bread.
I'll make you fresh coffee.
I'll type up your manuscript.
I'll take care of everything, just...
just tell me you'll be here.
I'll be here.
Swear on it.
In the name of our love, swear that you'll be here.
Please.
I swear.
And so, you just... left?
What else was I gonna do?
I was just...
terrified what Nola would do
when she found out I'd gone.
But to stay and to pretend
that we could have some sort of life together...
would be worse.
She would have realized
I would have abandoned her,
and I was afraid
she would hurt herself again.
But you didn't go back to New York.
No.
No...
I was on my way to New York,
and then...
Luther literally chased me down
in his Mustang,
stopped me on the road.
It was so aggressive.
I was scared to death what was going to happen...
What are you doing?
Please...
And he calmly told me that...
Stern had been looking for me
for a few days,
and to follow him home.
Mr. Quebert.
Mr. Quebert!
Mr. Stern.
I was starting to think I'd never find you.
I've, um...
Have a seat.
Oh, thank you. I've been out of town.
What can I do for you?
I know everything.
Everything.
You thought you could just run off?
I really have no idea what you're talking about.
The house at Goose Cove, of course.
I got a call from the agency.
Why didn't you tell me
that you were going to have to leave the house?
I'm afraid I've exhausted my funds...
and, um...
I have to...
alter my plans.
Well...
there's no need to leave on that account.
I don't need the income from renting,
and I'd very much like to support
your artistic endeavor,
so why don't you stay at the house
to finish your novel?
What do you think?
I don't understand.
It's...
We don't know each other well.
Why such generosity?
The pride of contributing
to the creation of a great novel.
Every artist needs a benefactor,
and I'd like to be yours.
So the next thing that was on my mind was...
getting back to the house in time.
I was panicked that Nola would've come back,
found the door locked,
the house buttoned up,
and she would've realized that I had abandoned her.
You made it back in time?
I made it back in time.
But she must have wondered
where you got the money for the rent...
Oh, yeah, she did.
I just told her that it was... a bank loan,
made up some bullshit about that and, uh...
she believed me.
And we never discussed it again.
Hmm.
And the next month was just absolute bliss.
I'd never, ever, in my entire life
been so inspired.
It was like...
the writing just started to flow.
Your writing is beautiful.
It goes straight to your heart.
See you tomorrow, right?
Yes.
Okay?
Thank you.
She was there for me every day.
At night, she'd take the pages home,
type them up, bring them back.
She would read them.
Give me her insight.
Her thoughts.
You let her read your pages?
Always.
She was brilliant.
I could never have written it without her.
Hmm.
She was my muse.
So that's how Harry Quebert wrote his masterpiece
in a mere few weeks.
You know, when she was gone,
I could never write like that again.
Five minutes, Quebert.
Mm-hm.
And you felt safe?
No one bothered you?
No, I never felt safe.
I always felt like somebody was watching me.
Watching us.
Want me to turn it off?
This is for your ears only.
I made a horrible discovery
about Nola's mother.
A few days after the Adirondacks,
she came to my house...
I lied to you
when I told you that I told my parents
that I was staying at Nancy's house.
I didn't tell them anything.
I just ran away.
My mother told me I had to be punished.
So her mother found out about it,
and beat her with a ruler.
I could see the bruises.
That's criminal.
She also would get a bowl of water,
fill it with ice,
grab the back of her head, submerge her,
and tell her that she was gonna deliver her.
She'd deliver her?
Deliver her from evil.
Go on...
say the words.
"I...
have..."
I have...
forsaken the Lord.
I have provoked the Holy One.
"I have sinned, and I have done evil."
Are you going to be a good girl?
Yes. I promise, Mother.
If only your promises
were enough to defeat the devil.
No!
No, please!
Time's up, Quebert. Let's go.
I don't understand
why don't you want anyone to know this.
Because I learned something
way more frightening.
I made another horrible discovery about her mother.
What discovery?
I said time's up. Let's go.
I made a horrible discovery about her mother.
The thing is,
I didn't even know Nola had gone to the Adirondacks
at the time.
She never said a word about it?
Nothing.
I just showed up at her house like I always did,
so we could go to the beach together.
Mm-hm.
Nola?
Nola, are you in there?
Nola isn't feeling too well, Nancy.
But I'll be sure to tell her you dropped by.
All week, it was the same.
"Nola isn't feeling well.
I'll tell her you stopped by."
Then on that following Monday,
voilÃ,
Nola magically reappeared.
Why won't you tell me where you were?
Why all the secrecy?
You wouldn't understand.
And what's with the sweatshirt?
It's, like, 85 out.
I just felt like wearing it.
Because you can tell me.
I mean, someone's beating you again, aren't they?
Yes, for, um...
disappearing for a week.
But it was worth it.
I'd do it again in a heartbeat.
That's when she told me
about her being in love with an older man.
She didn't name names,
but I'm sure it was Stern.
Did you ever see them together?
Nola and Stern?
No. Like I told you,
he'd just send that deformed chauffeur of his.
The whole thing was so sordid...
secretive.
Nola?
Nola, you...
So you never confronted her about it?
I did... once.
I asked her why,
when she could've been with any boy she wanted,
she chose to be with some old guy.
What'd she say?
Just two words...
"For love."
After she disappeared,
I told Chief Pratt everything.
He promised he'd investigate.
Uh-huh.
Get to the bottom of it.
If I'd spoken up sooner, she'd be alive today.
Sergeant, it's me.
Wrong number.
Yeah, we need to go back
and re-interview Kellergan, Sergeant.
Oh, we do, do we?
And what makes us think it's so important
that we have to call after hours?
New evidence to confront him with, okay?
Nola's relationships, her beatings.
I'll tell you what.
You ask the minister
if his wife beat the crap out of his daughter
because she was a slut, okay?
And I'll follow my lead.
Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, what lead?
Come on, Perry, you know I'm gonna stick around
whether you include me or not.
Meet me at Clark's, tomorrow morning at 11:00.
No, why Clark's? Just tell me now.
Because I said so.
God!
Asshole.
What's up?
Water, please. Thank you.
Oh, you know what?
Clark's does have fantastic water.
No wonder you wanted to meet here.
You should, uh, you should try the ice.
Unbelievable.
In August 1975,
a complaint was filed against Luther Caleb
by Jenny Quinn,
now Jenny Dawn, for assault.
What?
Yeah. It turns out
he was already being monitored by police
for inappropriate behavior towards women
between the years of 1970 and 1975.
Holy shit.
And that's why we're meeting at Clark's.
Poor Luther.
He was sweet,
in spite of the way he looked.
I could never bring myself to charge him.
And yet, you filed a complaint
against him.
Yeah. Travis insisted.
He hung around Sommerdale a lot that summer,
and...
sometimes he acted a little aggressively towards me.
Was he violent?
No, just...
a little too insistent.
Right.
He...
he wanted me to...
This is going to sound ridiculous.
He... he wanted me to sit for him.
So he could paint me.
Don't look so shocked.
I was a goddamn prom queen.
No, yeah. Yeah?
- Yeah. - Oh.
He had trouble
taking no for an answer.
Well, what...
what, uh... what happened to him?
One day,
he just disappeared.
Apparently he was killed in a car accident or something.
They found Luther Caleb's car
at the bottom of a cliff near Bradford.
That was four weeks after Nola's disappearance.
They also found out
he attended a fine arts college
in Portland,
so it's more than likely
the initials on Nola's painting are his.
Okay, why wasn't this guy a suspect back in '75?
There was no evidence in the original case file
that pointed to him.
Okay, well, we need to go back
and talk to Stern.
And say what?
We have reason to suspect
your chauffeur was guilty of painting?
No, we need concrete evidence of foul play,
legally obtained.
And stop with all this "we" shit, man.
There's no "we."
Oh, does that mean you're not taking me
to the policemen's ball?
All right, keep your mouth shut.
I ask the questions, okay?
I'm the cop, you're the writer.
And I use that term very loosely.
Hello, Sergeant.
Sir.
You workin' with the police now?
Uh, he is not.
Furthermore, he understands
he's not allowed to speak to you directly,
and that I'll be the one asking all the questions.
Right?
- Mm-hm. - Yeah.
When will my daughter's remains
be returned to me, Sergeant?
I would like to give her a proper burial.
Uh...
Soon, sir.
I know it's difficult.
My apologies.
Mr. Kellergan,
there are a few gray areas
in our case file
that we're trying to fill in.
I was wondering
if you knew a certain Elijah Stern?
Not personally.
I met him at a few Sommerdale functions, I believe.
And his chauffeur?
Luther Caleb?
I don't recall
a Luther Caleb.
Why?
Um...
We believe Nola may have been...
linked to these two people.
Linked?
We think...
There's no, uh, way
to say this delicately, Reverend, but, um...
we have evidence that suggests
your daughter was in a relationship
with Mr. Stern.
My daughter...
was the victim...
of that bastard pedophile, Harry Quebert,
who deserves to die on death row
for what he did!
This conversation is over!
Your wife beat her,
didn't she, Reverend?
Oh, you don't know what you're talkin' about!
Well, why didn't you tell anyone
when Nola first ran away in late July?
You didn't call the police?
What, you just
you wait around for a whole week?
Because I knew she'd come back, and she did.
No, you felt guilty about the beatings
that she was getting from her mother,
the ones that you did nothing to stop,
and then she...
Go back to the hell you came from!
Reverend! Reverend!
Don't kill him, Reverend.
Let me do it.
I'm a fucking idiot for letting you tag along.
I'm just...
Shut up!
Don't say another word.
Oh, God. Forgive me.
Forgive me.