All language subtitles for Forever.S01E10.720p.x265-ZMNT.en1

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♪ So long, you did me wrong ♪

♪ So long, you did me wrong ♪

- Hi.
- ♪ any way you slice it, whoop ♪

♪ You're doin' me wrong ♪

[British accent] Darling, this isn't

the intimate engagement
party your father described.

Dad doesn't do intimate, Colin.

He already agreed to
no wedding announcement

in "The Times." Let him have this.

But he's spending so much money.

[Chuckles] It's unnecessary.

Ostentation is not something
that I'm accustomed to.

Look, I'm beginning to
think the Devonshire Castle

is a bad idea.

You are a British Lord.

You have to get married
in your family's castle.

I'm not a Lord. I'm a Viscount.

And no law says we can't elope.

Colin, I love you.

[Smooches]

And I've waited my whole life

to meet my Prince Viscount.

- Norman: Emily!
- Daddy!

- That's my girl.
- Sir.

Thank you again for hosting.

It's going to be a charming affair.

Aw, it's nothing compared to the wedding.

Oh, we were just discussing that.

We're not sure who's more excited
about the castle, you or me.

Yeah, well, my princess...

her fairy tale, it ends in a castle.

You got that?

Absolutely, Sir.

[Camera shutter clicking]

[Siren wailing]

Hanson: Now, this is one well-dressed victim.

Looks like something Henry might wear.

- You gonna call him?
- Nah, it's his day off.

Whoa! Victim's a Brit.

Colin Cavendish, age 28, out of London.

Says he's a "vis-count"?

It's a title, like Royalty.

Oh. Well, we got a dead
royal in Central Park.

You got to call him.

Henry. Breakfast is getting cold.

I'm gonna microwave it.

Absolutely not.

You know how I feel.

The microwave is to food

what the cellphone is to conversation...

it destroys the very
thing it wishes to help!

Oh, calm down. We don't
even own a microwave.

Let's just sit and have breakfast

like two civilized people, please.

Ah, okay.

Now, where are my obituaries?

What Sunday morning would be complete

without you scavenging
the deceased for antiques?

Scavenge? This is market research.

Okay, what do we have
here? What do we have?

[Sighs]

"Dead travel agent.
Laine Romero from Queens."

Must've picked up some nice
tchotchkes on her travels.

I'm gonna circle that one till later.

Okay, who else?

Oh.

No.

What is it?

Lyle Ames died.

[Sighs]

The name sounds familiar, but I'm...

He was a friend of mine from '57.

Oh, wow.

What a long time ago, huh?

I taught him my best curse words,

and he showed me my first nudie book.

Hmm.

I'm sorry.

I haven't thought about
him in almost 60 years.

He used to live down the block

when we had that apartment on 69th and 2nd.

Remember that place?

[Chuckling] Yes.

Those were good times with you and mom.

Mm.

They were indeed.

[Telephone ringing]

Who's that?

[Sighs]

It's 9:00.

Now, the average murder victims

are discovered between 8:00 and 8:30.

Jo and Hanson most likely
just arrived at the scene.

- Hello, Detective.
- Jo: Hey, Henry.

I'm in Central Park.
We've found one of yours.

Mine?

An aristocrat.

It's a courtesy call,

but, well, we could always use your help.

Abe, do you mind...?

Go, catch a bad guy.

I'm on my way.

Passport I.D.'s him as
Viscount Colin Cavendish.

He's royalty.

Uh, the title of viscount
is that of a noble,

not a royal. There is a difference.

Not in New York.

Hanson: 20 minutes I'm
on hold with this Embassy.

Doc, doesn't your country care

when one of your royals gets got?

Nobles. He's a... does no one understand

the difference between
Nobility and Royalty?

Man: What? What'd he say?

[Sighs] Never mind.

Henry: Hematoma to the back of the head.

Multiple lacerations on the face

indicates a possible
struggle prior to death.

C.O.D. incised wound to the carotid artery.

But this wasn't done by a knife.

It's too irregular. Do
we have a murder weapon?

No. And something is off here.

An English Noble takes a
stroll through Central Park

in the middle of the night.

Somebody stabs him to death,

but doesn't take his wallet?

The story doesn't make sense.

Well, neither does the history.

[Inhales sharply]

In 1869, Queen Victoria

revoked Lord Marcel Cavendish's nobility

when he stabbed a man to
death in a house of ill repute.

Six months later, the former
Lord was killed in a duel.

In fact, the entire Cavendish
family died out by 1881.

Mm, I thought you'd like this case.

This man is neither a
viscount nor a Cavendish.

He's an impostor.

Jo, get this...

British Embassy's got no record of nobility

for anyone named Colin Cavendish.

The guy is a complete imp...

Henry already figured this out, didn't he?

We have two mysteries here, Detectives.

Who is Colin Cavendish,
and who wanted him dead?

- Synced and corrected by martythecrazy -
- www.MY-SUBS.com -

Henry: What we try to hide
about ourselves in life

is revealed in death...
our fears, our insecurities,

but most of all, our secrets.

What's that?

He dyed his hair.

Note the cuticle and cortex... blond.

I know plenty of girls out there

who would kill to be natural blondes.

For our victim, it's more likely he did it

because he was hiding.

[Slow rock music plays]

I'm impressed, Henry.

This older look suits you quite nicely.

But let's not go overboard.

There's a fine line between
precaution and paranoia.

I know what it looks
like, but at some point,

someone's gonna start wondering about me

and why I don't age like everyone else.

All your lady admirers?

Look, we've been here for seven years.

It's either this, or we move on again.

Henry, we don't have to move.

A few grays make you look like Clark Gable.

And in case you haven't
noticed, I like older men.

Henry: Does our victim have a name?

Not yet.

Vic's prints didn't turn up anything.

Whoever he is, he's not in our system.

Other than the fake passport,

there's no paper trail to
follow on Colin Cavendish.

What did you get off the body?

We found small flakes of
gold in the neck wound.

We've sent them for a metallurgy test.

And down here, you'll
notice some deep scarring

on the inside of the ankles

and some gravel that's
healed into the wound.

Guy looks more "Blue
Collar" than "Blue Blood".

And he's an American.

How can you tell that?

Oh, this part's really cool.

The soft palate is the
road map to how we sound.

Americans tend to push sounds together

in the back of the mouth.

That's why American English
is said to sound harder

and more aesthetically displeasing.

Easy, Doc.

Based on the curvature of the palate,

Colin was most assuredly an American.

So we got a lot of details,
but no real name yet.

Hell, we don't even know
anything about his fake name.

Well, we do have this.

At the time of his death,

the impostor was wearing
a London travel suit

from Paul Stuart's fall collection...

not only an excellent English suit,

but the perfect look for
a young man of nobility.

It projects stature, sophistication, and...

And deep pockets.

So he knew what he was doing.

But look at this... the
left-handed under roll,

an almost extinct alteration stitch.

There is only one master tailor

remaining in New York who uses it.

Mine.

Can I ask you a personal question?

Yeah.

How can an M.E. afford to shop here?

I've saved a bit over the years.

[Italian accent] Finished... two weeks.

[Chuckling] Oh, Dr. Morgan.

So good to see you! [Chuckles]

No appointment today?

Actually, Arturo, I'd like to introduce you

to my partner. This is...

Dr. Morgan, please, you know
I don't work with the women...

Even if they wear the pantsuit.

Uh, Detective Jo Martinez, NYPD.

Do you recognize this man?

Well, of course. Mr. Cavendish.

Something's wrong?

Arturo, I'm afraid to say
that Mr. Cavendish is dead...

Also not a Cavendish.

Well, I don't understand.

He's not who he claimed to be.

We're trying to find his real identity,

so anything you have...

credit-card receipts, delivery address...

that would help us identify him?

No, he paid in cash,

uh, always picked up his suits in person.

Well, except for the last one.

- What is it?
- A tuxedo.

A tuxedo for what?

Oh, Mr. Cavendish was getting married.

The wedding registry...
it's on the second floor.

Patricia: I can't believe he's dead.

Jo: Were you close with the deceased?

I wouldn't say close,

uh, but we worked closely on the registry.

You can get very friendly with the couples.

Can you tell us about his fiancée?

Of course. Emily Sontag.

Her father owns garment
factories in New Jersey.

- That's it.
- They supply most of our high-end designers.

You have her contact info?

Yes.

I must have it somewhere.

- Hey.
- Hello.

You got a problem?

I wondered if I could have
a closer look at your legs.

Dude, even for New York, you're a weirdo.

Step back.

Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hey, hey, hey.

- NYPD.
- What the hell is this?

Look at his calf.

It has the same distinct scarring

as the inside of Colin's ankle.

It's called a chain scar.

You ride in the city all
day, every day, you get it.

I believe Colin was a bike messenger.

You recognize this guy?

He would've had blond
hair when you knew him.

Wow. That's Dwight.

Dwight?

Dwight Dziak.

We used to ride together.

Haven't seen him in like a year,

but if you find him,
tell him he owes me money.

[Inhales deeply]

I believe we've found our noble.

Dwight Dziak.

Sir Dwight Dziak.

Touché.

Ahh! Your Bernard Weatherill.

It looks splendid on you.

You think? Hmm.

It doesn't make me look
like a bit of a dandy?

You use that word like it's a bad thing.

When you wear a savile row suit,

you must exude confidence.

Here.

Ah!

What's the big occasion?

- I'm going to a funeral.
- Oh.

No, it's a good one as far as they go.

Oh, Lyle Ames from the obituaries.

But there are gonna be
a lot of people there

that I haven't seen in a very long time.

- Really?
- Yeah.

And by "people," you mean a woman.

What's her name?

[Chuckles] Fawn.

When did you see her last?

The Eisenhower administration.

She went to PS 6 with me and Lyle.

She was, um... well, special.

First love?

Ah! How sweet.

And uncharacteristically innocent.

You know, funerals, they're
the best places to meet ladies

of a certain age and,
uh, romantic temperament.

That's the Abe I know.

Bingo. Oh, could you come with me?

I mean to the funeral. I-I need a wingman.

No, no, no, sh-sh-she's, uh, I-important.

I mean, uh, it's hard for
me to explain, but she is.

And, uh, it's been 60 years,
and I'm just a little nervous,

so I-I just want to make
a good impression, so...

[Clears throat] Staid and dependable?

Or, uh, wild and spontaneous?

Why don't you just try being yourself, hmm?

It's always worked out best.

Okay, great.

And who is that?

Reece: So, who is Dwight Dziak?

He's 27 years old, born in Oklahoma,

and his juvenile search
record turned up a few hits.

Case file reads like a Dickens' novel.

Guy bounced around from
various foster homes

before striking out to the Big
Apple to become a bike messenger.

Only 14 months later, he quits,

drops off the grid completely.

What about the fiancée? What's her story?

Emily Sontag should be here any minute,

coming in from Westchester.

Her father owns a textile factory.

The point is, Emily comes from a family

that a bike messenger
doesn't marry into easily.

So maybe Emily helps Dziak
come up with his BS bio

to pull the wool over daddy's eyes?

Yeah, we'll let you know
what we get out of her.

[Sighs] This isn't real.

[Sniffles] Um...

I'm sorry.

How does this happen?

Who would want to murder Colin?

Hoping you could help us with that.

When did you last see Colin?

Before I went to sleep.

When I woke up, he was gone.

You never left your apartment?

You have somebody who can back that up?

The doorman to our building.

You know, we're having
a little bit of trouble

locating your fiancé's next of kin.

Colin was English.

He doesn't have any family in the States.

Um... [sniffles]

Maybe you could try the British Embassy?

Did you ever hear the name Dwight Dziak?

Why? [Sniffles]

Is that... is he a suspect?

Is that who you think killed Colin?

Um... Emily, this is gonna be hard,

especially on top

of all that you're going through right now.

We have to tell you
something about your fiancé.

Colin wasn't who he said he was.

What are you talking about?

Emily, meet your fiancé, Dwight Dziak.

Lucas: Hey, Doc.

I was gonna put him on ice
if that was okay with you?

Yes, I believe we've learned all we can

from his body for the moment.

It's a funny thing, huh,

just pretending to be someone you're not?

I was in the ninth grade,
and I had to switch schools.

For a whole year, I made my
classmates call me Fernando.

Uh, well, what happened?

Well, eventually I got tired of worrying

that my old life would
catch up with the new.

And I didn't speak Spanish.

Yeah, can't imagine what it was like

for this guy always
checking over his shoulder.

Crazy.

[Breathes deeply]

Never could tire of this.

What's that?

Seasons changing, nature's cycle of life.

Mm, all of us one year older...

even you, darling.

Your gray hair is flaking on your shoulder.

[Both chuckle]

I have to start wearing a hat.

Oh, don't worry. No one saw a thing.

I need to pick up Abe from school.

- See you at home.
- Bye.

Dr. Henry Morgan.

I thought it was you.

I saw you hit by an artillery shell

on the beach at Normandy.

What, don't you recognize me?

PFC Hemecker.

I know time hasn't been as kind to me

as it's been to you, Doctor.

I got a piece of that same
shell in this old leg of mine.

[American accent] Uh,
you got the wrong guy.

Now, excuse me. I have to get back to work.

I got to say, I have
seen my share of ghosts,

but none as real as you!

Lucas: Henry?

Henry.

Or Dr. Morgan,

unless we're finally on a first-name basis?

Didn't think so.

What is it, Lucas?

Ah, well, when I was
gonna go pack up his stuff,

I felt something crinkly
inside his coat pocket.

And turned out it was paper,
but just a bunch of pieces,

so I put what I could back together.

Look at that.

- A check!
- Oh, yeah.

It's a lot of zeroes.

Yeah, a cool million, payable to the D.O.A.

From whose account?

One Norman Sontag.

Colin's would-be father-in-law.

Jo: Ms. Sontag, did
you know about the check

your father wrote Colin
the night he was murdered?

It was for our wedding...

Colin's family's castle in Devonshire...

[Chuckles ruefully]

Which was obviously made up, too.

You must think I'm an idiot.

I think that you just
fell for the wrong man.

Of everything you've told me,

the fact our love wasn't real
is the hardest to believe.

Hanson: You buying this story?

I'll subpoena her
building's security footage

and talk to her doorman,

but I don't make her for a killer.

Now, her old man, on the other hand...

Forget about the money.

Daddies don't like to see their
little girl's hearts broken.

And you think Norman Sontag

found out his daughter was being duped?

Talk to him.

Wow. Nice digs.

Looks like it belongs on
the other side of the pond.

Remind you of home?

What? You think all Englishmen

grew up reciting poetry
and hunting pheasants?

[Chuckles] Well, it's just

you never talk about where you grew up.

Then Colin Cavendish and I
have something in common...

the need to reinvent ourselves.

Well, there's no better
place than here in America.

We've got no shortage of suckers.

You think that's what was
motivating our victim...

a confidence game driven by greed?

The guy had a million bucks in his pocket.

That he'd torn up.

What if he was just a man
trying to escape his past?

Dwight lied about who he was.

Because he aspired to be someone better,

then fell in love with someone better.

Haven't you ever wanted to be someone else?

Nope. For better or worse, I know who I am.

My daughter's happiness is
all that ever mattered to me.

Then some sociopath comes into her life,

preying on an innocent girl.

When's the last time you
saw your daughter's fiancé?

Was the, uh, night of
the engagement party...

uh, when it ended, at about 10:00.

Is your back all right?

The way you're walking... slight limp.

Heat pad over there.

I threw it out playing golf.

Ice...

Much better than heat for a muscle strain.

Did you notice anything
odd about Colin's behavior

the night you saw him?

Seemed happy as a clam to me.

'Course he had a check in his
pocket for a million bucks.

[Sniffs deeply]

Dwight, or Colin... whichever you prefer...

came back here after the party, didn't he?

I'm curious what the two of you discussed.

I already told you the engagement party

was the last time I saw that
lying Okie son of a bitch.

We never told you

where the viscount
Cavendish really came from.

Emily told me...

On the phone when she called
to say that he was dead.

We never told Emily.

Dwight Dziak returned here after the party,

and you two had some sort of altercation.

That's why his jacket was torn.

I'd have to take it back to my lab,

but I'd wager that these
exquisite wool fibers

match Dwight's suit.

You shoved him up against
the wall, I assume.

But he was strong, a bike messenger,

so he shoved you back.

You fell onto the desk,
injuring your lower back.

Marks on the carpet
where it moved slightly.

You were no match for him physically,

but you couldn't let him
leave, so what was handy?

Judging by the angle of
the injury on Dwight's head,

I'd say you used a 7-iron, or perhaps a 6.

But you didn't catch him
clean... a bit of a slice.

You need more shoulder rotation.

H-Henry, your gloves.

Doesn't matter.

It's already been wiped
clean of any evidence.

Some sort of astringent cleaning fluid.

Next time use salt water...

just as effective at
removing blood and no odor.

You followed Dwight to the city,

and you stabbed him in
the neck at the fountain.

Is that true?

I am going to need to talk to my lawyer.

Well, that's the first truthful statement

you've made, Mr. Sontag.

I'm Peter Guzik, Mr. Sontag's counsel.

This is my client's statement

regarding the night in question.

Hanson: Try seeing this
from our perspective.

Mr. Sontag admitted that
he attacked Dwight Dziak

with a golf club, but denies killing him?

Yeah, that's a tough needle to thread.

[Chuckles]

Good luck doing it with a jury.

What kind of a lawyer are you, anyway?

A corporate attorney for Mr.
Sontag's textile business.

It says here your client called you

after he assaulted Dwight at his house.

Now, I don't speak legalese,

but it sounds to me like you
told him to cover his tracks.

Is that true?

In general, innocent people
don't cover their tracks.

What is it you want to know? Mr. Sontag.

Peter. You've helped enough.

You just tell us exactly
what happened that night

after the party.

Colin... [Sighs]

Dwight, or whatever the hell his name is,

he came to the house, said
that he wanted to talk.

Told me that everything about him was BS,

dropped the stupid British accent.

Told me that it was all some
kind of con to steal my money,

except he had fallen in love with Emily

and now all he wanted was her.

So you assaulted him?

He told me that he was
going to tell her the truth

and that, if she forgave him,
that he would run away with her.

Mr. Sontag did

what any loving and
protective father would do.

But we're talking about
assault, not murder.

It's the God's honest truth.

When he left my house, he was alive.

So, then what?

In accordance with the
advice of my counsel,

I did what I do every
morning... I went into work.

Someone that could put you
there at 5:00 in the morning?

About a hundred employees.

And there's security footage.

I'm sure my attorney would be happy

to get that for you if you want.

The injury from Norman
Sontag's 7-iron was inflicted

hours before Dwight was killed,

judging by the inflammatory response...

Which also hid this.

Gauze fiber...

Hidden in the wound, blended into his hair.

[Sighs]

It appears that Dwight's
injury was cared for.

So maybe Dwight stopped by a pharmacy

after Norman hit him,
but before he was killed?

Well, given the location
of Dwight's injury,

it would've been difficult for him

to accomplish that by himself.

Hmm, someone could've helped him, then.

Perhaps.

Or just maybe he had help all along.

How does a bike messenger
from Shawnee, Oklahoma,

learn a lifetime of culture and refinement

in a matter of months?

The Internet?

Well, not likely.

I mean, he knew how to speak, how to act,

and his sartorial acumen...

And cue the "aha" moment.

Like he stepped out of
a Paul Stuart catalog.

Excuse me a moment.

Henry: Of course. Colin's
clothes, his watch...

everything on his body was
purchased at Paul Stuart.

It's all here in the winter catalog.

His pants. His shoes.

How could he not only know what to buy,

but have the money to afford it?

Because he had a Henry Higgins.

I played Eliza Doolittle

in my grade-school
production of "My Fair Lady."

You must've been charming.

[Sighs]

We can cross-check the
items that he had on

with the ones sold at Paul Stuart.

Maybe we can find out who bought them.

Look at the pen on this page.

Remember the gold shards that
I dug out of Colin's neck?

I believe we've found our murder weapon.

Hanson: Turns out everything
that Colin Cavendish purchased

was bought with an employee discount.

Here's whose discount he was using.

Jo: Patricia Abbott.

She's the wedding registrar
we met at Paul Stuart.

Her manager confirmed
she called in sick today.

- Do you got a home address?
- You bet.

[Police radio chatter]

Clear!

Man: Clear!

Man 2: All clear!

This... is where Dwight's nursemaid

preformed the triage.

But then I think Dwight betrayed her.

You see, they were partners, con artists,

but Dwight developed a conscience.

A piece of Norman Sontag's check.

So Patricia killed him

because he wouldn't make
off with their money.

No, that's not what their
fight was really about.

From your musical-theater days,

you mentioned "My Fair Lady"?

It's based on the myth of Pygmalion,

the story of an artist

who sculpted a statue so beautiful,

so perfect that he fell in love with it.

Dwight was her creation.

She gave him a crash course in nobility.

He was her statue, her masterwork.

Until he tried to leave
her for another woman.

Patricia: [British accent]
Pleased to meet you, Mr. Sontag.

My name's Colin Cavendish.

[British accent] Pleased
to meet you, Mr. Sontag.

My name is Colin Cavendish. Better.

But your vowels are still a bit iffy.

[Normal voice] My vowels
are a little bit iffy.

I'm rolling my r's. Enough.

Lord Cavendish is wiped
out from all this work.

Perhaps he's earned himself
a little study break.

Dwight!

In a minute.

Where is this woman?

We have a BOLO out on Patricia Abbott.

Her face is up on screens
all over the city right now.

The feds are also looped in,
along with FAA and transit.

If this woman is still
here, we'll find her.

He was there.

Blood on the gauze is
a DNA match for Colin.

Confirms he was indeed there
at Patricia's house that night.

Okay, so Patricia
transforms Dwight into Colin

so that he can get engaged
to Emily and steal her money.

Right. Only thing is, Colin
falls in love with Emily,

blows the con,

and when he tries to
break it off with Patricia,

she kills him.

And this is what she leaves behind?

Yeah, but she's been working on
this con for over a year, boss.

She'd have been ready to run.

She's probably [Whistles]
halfway around the world by now.

She's not running.

How do you know that?

The pictures.

Patricia lived alone, worked long hours.

Her whole life was Colin and this plan.

If she was running, she
would take what was essential

and what was irreplaceable.

Running or hiding, she's gonna turn up.

Can't get far in today's world.

[Winded] Have you finished yet?

Photos and the photo album
and then we finished.

But Abigail.

Henry, they can't be
replaced. They're coming.

[Sighs] Of course.

Have you told Abe we're leaving?

[Sighs] Not yet. He has a friend over.

[Sighs]

Abe: Today was the best day of my life.

Lyle: Well, how was it, Abe?

Amazing.

I can't wait for my first kiss.

It'll happen soon, Lyle.

Fawn Mahoney.

What a tomato.

Yeah, but she's mine.

I'm gonna marry her someday.

[Keys jingle]

Abraham.

Hey! I was just heading out.

Is, uh... should I change,

or is this appropriate
attire for a funeral wingman?

What made you change your mind?

Well, a first kiss is hard to forget,

and it was my fault we had to move.

Oh. [Chuckling] Okay.

Your digs are fine.

But dial back the immortal charm, you know?

This is my funeral.

- What?
- Um, speaking figuratively.

You see her?

[Bell tolling]

No, not yet.

At least you can pay your
respects to your friend.

To who?

- Lyle.
- Meh.

Wait! There she is!

Ah. Fawn Mahoney.

Ooh! What a tomato.

Abraham... she's the widow.

Did I not tell you that? Oh.

She's beautiful.

I'll just wait till after the service

- before I make my, uh...
- Abraham!

You are not doing this.

I forbid you to flirt with
a widow, your friend's wife!

What?

Someone you know?

Emily Sontag.

That must've been Dwight Dziak's funeral.

Who's the girl?

- The impostor's fiancée.
- Oh.

Well, she looks like
she's already moved on.

Kind of cozy with the guy she's with, huh?

That's Peter Guzik, her father's lawyer.

Not everyone comes to a
funeral to hit on a widow.

I'm simply offering my condolences.

If a spark should re-ignite,
who am I to blow out the flame.

Abraham, you're breaking
an unwritten law so old,

they didn't have to write it down!

Wait.

It's her.

Who?

The killer, Patricia.

She's here!

We have to go follow her.

Come on! Are you kidding?

This is my one chance with Fawn.

Fine. Give me the keys.

You haven't driven for 37 years.

Abe, please. She killed a man.

I need your help.

All right, just a minute, just a minute.

Hey, kid! Come here.

Uh, is that your grandma Fawn? Yeah?

Uh, just give her this card.

Uh, tell her hi from an old friend

a-and that she aged well.

Hmm?

Yeah. All right.

[Telephone rings]

Detective Martinez.

Henry: Patricia Abbott is getting away!

Getting away?

Henry, what are you talking about?

I'm at the cemetery.

She showed up at Dwight's funeral.

Okay, whoa. Slow down.

Abe! Hurry! Hurry up! We're losing her!

Look, we'll follow her, and
you send up backup units.

No! No, no, no!

Do not approach her, do you hear me?

Uh, H-Hanson. Hanson.

Get state police on the phone.

Henry's got a beat on Patricia Abbott.

She's in some sort of
Sedan... a Datsun perhaps!

They don't make those
anymore. It's a Civic.

Abe, quickly.

Do I have police permission
to violate all speeding laws?

- Yes.
- N-no! Absolutely not.

Listen, maintain a safe distance

and get the license-plate number.

We're on it. [Engine turns over]

[Tires squeal]

Thank you. [Clears throat]

Sometimes our patrolmen
can get a little overzealous

when they think a murder
suspect is trying to flee town.

I wasn't going anywhere.

That was nice work, Henry.

As a matter of curiosity, though,

what were you doing in that cemetery?

My roommate was paying his
respects to an old girlfriend,

the widow of the deceased.

I was his wingman.

I've got to learn to
stop asking you questions.

I didn't kill Dwight.

Ms. Abbott, we know everything...

how you made Dwight into Colin,

how the two of you
planned to con the Sontags.

You know, we also know that
Dwight wanted to call it off.

And we know you were in love with him.

I was.

And he loved me, too, for a time.

Ms. Abbott, this would
be a whole lot easier

if you could just come clean.

Just tell us exactly
what happened that night

after the party.

He came back, told me it was over...

the con, our relationship.

- I can't do it, Patricia.
- Look...

I don't love you anymore.

I saw them every day at the store,

the happy couples planning
their lives, their dreams.

I knew exactly what Emily Sontag wanted.

What about Dwight Dziak?

All he wanted was a better life.

Which I helped give him.

Look where it got him...

dead, stabbed in the neck in Central Park.

Where in the park?

Bethesda Fountain.

That's where he proposed to Emily.

My idea.

Where was he headed that night

after he left your apartment?

I imagine to her to confess the ruse,

beg her forgiveness.

Henry: We are back where we started from.

I'd assumed, based upon
the chafe on his pants,

that he fell to his knees
because he was struck,

but what if he was on
his knees apologizing?

Lucas.

Yeah, I was wondering if I
could play the killer this time.

Kind of feel like I always play the victim.

It's much easier for
me to get into character

murdering you.

Understood. [Clears throat]

So, he apologizes.

But how could she forgive him?

This man has betrayed her,
made her fall in love with him.

But now he's tearing that away.

She's not marrying a prince,
she's marrying a charlatan.

Exactly.

So she tries to leave, but he prevents her.

Maybe it's her pen...
falls out of her purse.

Excellent.

Rage bottled up in her, overwhelmed her.

She sees the pen on the ground, grabs it.

As he reaches for her again
based on the entry wound...

she thrusts the pen swiftly
and with tremendous force.

Oh, easy, Doctor! This is just a rehearsal.

She would've had to gather enough inertia

to puncture his carotid artery
and chip his mandible foramen.

A wisp over a hundred pounds,

Emily Sontag would never
have had the strength.

- [Winded]
- Guys! Jo!

Subpoena came through
on the security footage

from Emily Sontag's apartment building.

Hallway camera confirmed
her alibi... wasn't her.

Henry already figured this out, didn't he?

So now we're back to square one.

Who followed him here?

Someone who wanted to get to Dwight

before he reached Emily.

Because if he reached
Emily, she'd be gone forever.

Henry, what are you saying?

We need to arrest Emily Sontag.

Emily Sontag.

Need you to come with us, please.

Is this about Colin's killer?

Uh, we can tell you
more back at the station.

Detectives! What's going on?

We found the murder weapon.

What? A goldtipped lanier pen.

There's a print on it.

We need to match it to your client's.

You can meet her back
at holding, counselor.

[Dog barking in distance]

[Gun cocks]

Jo: NYPD!

Put your hands in the air.

Put your hands in the air now.

Do not move.

Hey, stop. Don't...

[both grunting]

Peter Guzik, you're under arrest

for the murder of Dwight Dziak.

Henry: Your father called Peter

after he struck your fiancé with a golf club.

Peter was in love with you...

I imagine he had been for a long time...

and, in an act of misbegotten chivalry,

confronted Dwight.

They had a fight, and Peter killed him.

I knew Peter had feelings for me,

and... There was a time when
I thought there was something.

And then you met Dwight... Colin.

And it was magic.

Like a storybook.

Guess that's what Colin was... a fantasy.

You know, he was going
to see you that night.

He'd tore up the million-dollar check.

He didn't want the money or the name.

He wanted to tell you the truth

and see if there was a chance
you might still love him.

Wasn't a fantasy.

His love was real.

Henry: The best impostors have many gifts.

They can change their voice,
their look, their manner.

But there's a rule every impostor learns.

The one truth we cannot hide is love.

[Bell dings]

Sorry, we're closed.

Hello? Abraham?

Fawn Mahoney.

Uh, well, it's been Fawn Ames

for the better part of 50 years.

Yeah, but I didn't... I didn't
expect that you'd be here.

Really?

You gave my grandson your card,

and let's just say you
made quite an impression.

Right.

I was just paying my respects to Lyle.

But it's, um... I'm...
I'm glad you're here.

I-I just live in Union Aquare,
so I thought I'd stop by.

Wow.

Only 20 blocks away this whole time?

Big city.

Uh, big world.

I-I...

I am surprised that you remember me.

Well, how could I forget?

You're the only man I ever
kissed besides my husband.

Huh.

Wow.

Ain't that a thing.

[Chuckles]

W-would you maybe,

um, let me, um, buy you a cup of coffee?

Abraham, I just buried
my husband two days ago.

No, no, I just meant, um, a coffee.

Uh, that's it.

The last time it was a milkshake,

and we both know what happened next.

Yes.

Well, 20 blocks isn't so far.

Probably, it won't be long

before I'm back in the neighborhood again.

Mm.

Bye.

[Bell dings]

Where's the bike?

Abe started to insist
that I take a cab home.

He hates it when I'm late for dinner.

He threatens to microwave it.

You want me to give you a lift?

No, I'm okay, thank you.

You know, Henry, I thought

that I was a tough nut to crack,

and I mean this with true affection...

you are one perplexing man.

How so?

You're intensely private,
borderline medical savant,

and you dress pretty well for city work.

I suppose it's time I came clean.

[American accent] I'm
really Hank Morgan from Ohio.

[Laughs] No, no.

Your brand of eccentricity
would take years to perfect.

[Normal voice] How about centuries?

[Sighs]

Someday, you'll let me
in when you're ready.

Have a good night.

Good night, Detective.

Lower East Side, Stanton and Suffolk.

Adam: Hello, Henry.

Adam: We're the same, you and I.

We share the same pain, same curse.

When you suffer from our
condition, you realize...

murder, it's just a part of life.

It's like breathing.

Buckle up, Henry.

I wouldn't want you to get hurt.

[Locks engage]

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