All language subtitles for Elementary - 06x04 - Our Time Is Up.DIMENSION.English.C.edit.Addic7ed.com

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.

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.

...lock!

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?

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 tank

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
efforts will bear more fruit.

Actually, you're wanted
on another case.

We both are.

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 stab wounds' worth,

based on a preliminary count.

- I don't see a knife.
- Hasn't turned up yet.

We think the killer took it
with him when he left.

Any sign of a break-in?

No. To get
into the building,

you got to punch in a code.

The killer 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 killer
brought the knife, right?

I mean,
could be premeditated,

but the murder 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 violence.

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

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man

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.

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.

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.

I'd like a
little more time

examining the scene.

Let me know
if you learn anything.

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?

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...

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...

I, uh...

I got home about an hour ago.

I can show you the train ticket
if you want.

Maybe before we leave.

I knew your wife.

I was one of her patients,
five years ago.

She was very helpful.

That sounds like her.

You were saying
you can't think

of anyone who would've
wanted to hurt her.

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.

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 sex 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 tank.
- 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 sex
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 murder.

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 stab-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.

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
murdered last night.

What?

We're consultants
with the NYPD.

The medical examiner
thinks that she was killed

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...

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 violence 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.

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

You surprised
me yesterday.

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

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.

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.

You... you believe me now?

That I didn't... kill 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 suicide
yesterday,

and your boss
is bringing you work?

Mr. Place, I'm
Sherlock Holmes.

I work with
the police.

You might be aware

I questioned your employee,
Mr. Kapoor, yesterday

regarding the murder
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.

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?

Yep.

Who was she?

My therapist.

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.

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 killer or something?

She thought I would have been
a good mother.

So, your therapist,
who you haven't seen in years,

was killed, 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.

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.

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.

Oh, it's Sherlock.

He wants me to meet him.

“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.

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.

I can provide
you with several recipes

for removing blood.

Sadly, none of them can
remove the stain

of a murder from one's soul.

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 killed 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 killed.

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.

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.

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 killed.

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.

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 killing 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.

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 murder.

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.

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 murder.

And yet no such recording

has found its way
to the police.

You think that's because
whoever planted the bug

killed 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 murder
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
killed 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 murder.

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 kill Dr. Reed?

Wasn't Alfonse the real problem?

That depends on the perspective
of the killer.

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 murder 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?
- 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 murdered 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 murder.

You didn't kill 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
murder, 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.

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.

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.

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

Ugh.

Do you have one for me, too?

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 murder?

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 killed.

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 murder.

I can't. I destroyed
it days ago.

You destroyed evidence
of a murder.

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 killer.

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 killed 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 murder.

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?

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 killer.

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 murder.

He didn't want to reveal himself
to the police, unfortunately,

but he did tell me that he
heard the killer say something.

“Aionia I mnimi.”

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.

If everything
that you're saying is true,

then why are we even doing this?
Why don't you just arrest him?

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 murder.

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 murder weapon, for example.

What do-what do you mean?
Why would he do that?

Because.

You go down
for Dr. Reed's murder,

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
killed 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.

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 murder weapon.

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 tank,

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.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==
@elder_man