All language subtitles for Elsbeth.S02E01.480p.x264-mSD

Good evening, Jesse.

Another Thursday,

another dreary Trovatore.

Keep an open mind.

Monday night was pretty good.

They pay you to say that.

But we live in hope.

Uh, this is us. Oh.

Oh, some seats, right?

Amazing. I feel like
Cher in that movie.

Oh, I have to pee.
Should I go or wait?

I would go.

I'm sorry. I couldn't
help overhearing.

If you leave during
the performance,

the ushers won't let you
back in until intermission.

Oh.

Then I will go now.

Thank you.

Thanks.

I don't want to be nosy, but
I'm here on my subscription,

and I always sit behind
an older woman, Abigail,

who comes with her home aide.

Oh, yeah, Abby was
my grandmother.

She died last week.

Oh.

I'm terribly sorry to hear that.

She was so lovely.

And short.

Yeah, she, uh, she left
me her subscription.

I see. Are you an opera lover?

Uh, you mean fat people
screaming for three hours?

No, not a fan.

Then why are you here?

To be honest...

tell a woman you got

great seats to the
opera, boom, you're in.

You know what I mean?

You here with anyone?

No.

This seat...

used to be occupied by
my late wife, Evelyn.

I know it's an
extravagance, but, uh,

I haven't had the
heart to give it up.

I am sorry about
your grandmother.

Oh, whatever. She was old.

I guess you'd better get used
to sitting behind me now.

Welcome to the opera.

There really is
nothing like it. Enjoy.

MANDY Hey.

♪ Figaro, Figaro, Figaro ♪

♪ Figaro, Figaro,
Figaro, Figaro ♪

♪ Figaro, Figaro, Figaro ♪

Hello?

Talk louder. I'm at the opera.

How should I know? It's
in French or something.

Really?

Hey, it's my buddy Sean. He's
got a table at 10 Hemlock.

You want to go?

You get the joke, right?

Sure. We're coming.

Uh, Stoli, dirty.

Unbelievable.

Feels like just yesterday.

This is New York.

Fads come and go.

I suppose the fact that Matteo

was guilty of
murder didn't help.

Probably not.

Well, back to being unique.

Which isn't so bad.

Now, let's go find you
some detective clothes.

So, I appreciate you helping
me out, but you do know we have

slightly different
taste in clothes.

I know, but I still feel
like Detective Blanke

showing up at the crime scene
should make a statement.

This feels a little premature.

Why? Captain Wagner said

you're on the fast
track to detective.

The fast track
seems pretty slow.

But the summer was
slow in general.

Oh, I know. I feel like I had
just gotten in the groove,

and then we had this big,
long summer break. Mm-hmm.

What happened to all of
our high profile cases?

Oh. They're all in
Martha's Vineyard,

Tuscany, driving
drunk in Sag Harbor.

Oh. Right.

Well, they should be back soon.

Maybe we should wait till
things pick up a little.

Detective Fleming?

Captain Wagner said
I should find you.

Officer Blanke. I know.
I know everything.

You don't spend 36 years

on the force without
picking up a few things.

Wow, that's a long time.

I'm Elsbeth...

Tascioni. I know.

With the consent decree.

Buzz Fleming.

You'd better not
screw up my pension.

Oh. I'm sure I won't.

Not without a super good reason.

You,

you're on the detective track?

Stick with me, I'll
show you the ropes.

I appreciate that.

So, uh, the victim was
stabbed multiple times?

First lesson:

All cases are about
either sex or money.

The victim's wallet is gone,

indicating a robbery.

Wh-Why would a random thief

stab someone that many times?

That's a very good point.

Maybe the victim
put up a struggle.

Young Wall Street guy
living in a place like this

doesn't give up
his money so easy.

Found these in
his pocket. Ooh!

What are those?

Two tickets to Tosca last night.

Good seats.

So...

multiple wounds after
a night at the opera.

Sounds like a crime of passion.

I don't think so,

but we do our due diligence.

Let's find out who he went with.

His phone. No prints.
Where'd you find that?

On the floor over there.

It was smashed against
the railing near the body.

So, the killer smashed
the victim's phone

and then threw it
across the room.

That's a passionate
thing to do. Mm-hmm.

Or...

the victim smashed his own phone

after an upsetting call. Oh.

We'll check the records,
find out who called who,

but, uh, this feels
like a random robbery.

Huh. What "huh"?

Well, it's just, why
would somebody random

be so angry at a cell phone?

Ringers off.

As you know, Lieutenant
Noonan was an old friend.

That must have hurt.

The point is,

I worry that my personal history

with Dave Noonan
may have blinded me.

So you're looking
for a new lieutenant

who's not your friend?

I suppose. You...

You have a reputation

as someone who, you know...

I'm not the buddy-buddy type.

And that's okay.

I'm the numbers guy.
Stats, regulations.

Moneyball is my favorite movie.

Really? All-time?

Captain, I understand
your predicament.

You've been through a crisis.

The precinct is
still recovering.

You need someone clean as a
whistle, who's nobody's buddy.

I don't mind being that
person. I accept your offer.

I actually hadn't offered
you... On one condition.

I give everything
that goes on here...

and I mean everything...
a thorough going-over.

No more cutting corners.

Nothing just slips by.

Not anymore.

You know something?

I feel better already.

Good morning. Hey, good morning.

Oh, Elsbeth,

I want to introduce you to

our new administrative
lieutenant.

Elsbeth Tascioni, Steve Connor.

Oh, I didn't realize.

Did you think Lieutenant
Noonan wouldn't be replaced?

To be honest, I hadn't
thought about it.

Duh. (chuckles) Hi.

The Department of Justice
has agreed to fund

Ms. Tascioni's consent
decree for another year.

She's been a great help to us.

Is that for your
office? Uh, yes.

I've been, um, trying
different things to warm it up.

This was Lieutenant
Noonan's office, wasn't it?

Oh, yes, it was.

Oh, my gosh, what am I thinking?

Uh, you're the new lieutenant.

You really should
have this office.

Oh, no. That's kind of you,
but I'll be perfectly happy

on the... Fifth.

Fifth floor. And besides,

if I do my job right, you
and your consent decree

will be out of here in
a few months anyway.

Fifth floor, you said? Mm-hmm.

Well, that was terrifying.

Are you sure about that guy?

No. But I was sure
about Dave Noonan,

and look how that turned out.

I'm not sure that's
the way it works.

Captain.

How we doing on this
Wall Street murder case?

Looks like a robbery,
but as Officer Blanke

and Ms. Tascioni pointed out,
some things don't add up.

Well, let's get this
nailed down soon.

A broker murdered
in his own home

after a night at the
opera is bad for the city.

And the opera.

My gut still thinks
it's about money.

Find the victim's
missing wallet,

you'll find the killer.

Here's the autopsy.

And here are
close-up photographs

of the various wounds.

Oh, whoever did
this really wanted

Eddie Reese to die. Hmm.

Oh, this is interesting.

Oh, what is?

There was unidentified
DNA found on the body.

So many knife wounds. Yeah.

Huh. Okay, look.

This looks like a
bruise from the hilt

of the same knife, but
there's no puncture mark.

How is that possible?

Maybe the blade
finally fell off,

or maybe the killer
turned the knife around

and beat him with it.

Really? Uh, have... Wait,
have you ever seen that?

Could be a sign of overkill.

I'm switching my theory
from money to sex.

When I'm wrong, I'm
wrong. I admit it.

Remember that. Oh, I will.

This is probably the
work of a jilted lover.

Well, that won't narrow
things down too much.

What do you mean?

Oh, I went through
Eddie's selfies.

This guy had a lot of dates.

Hmm.

Well, I'd never been
taken to the opera before,

and I thought it
sounded fun, classy.

And it was... kind of.

You know where the guy sings...
♪ Figaro, figaro, figaro. ♪

That's real.

I thought it was a cartoon.

The opera lasted a lot
longer than the sex,

I can tell you that much.

I thought it was
boring. So boring.

Like Oppenheimer boring.

Does that make me a bad person?

Well, I would've stayed,

but his friend Sean
invited us to some club,

and they got in a fight,

and then Eddie left me there.

Not to speak ill of the
dead, but he was awful.

He was, like, the
worst guy in New York.

Maybe in the tristate area.

So, there are others?

Should've known.

Maybe you did know
and you got jealous

and you tracked him down

and you murdered
him in cold blood.

That's ridiculous.

"Ridiculous" is just
what a killer would say.

We call that "bad cop."

Yes, we do.

Someone found the wallet
up by the G.W. Bridge.

No cash in it.

Oh. We're back to money.

So, what led you to the job?

Was your dad on the force?

No. I watched cop
shows with my mom.

She'd get home from work,
we'd heat up dinner,

and we'd watch.

I liked how things always came
out right in the end, you know?

Bad guys get caught.

And on better days, that's how
it works in real life, too.

Mm. I could use
some better days.

Okay, so they said
they found the wallet

somewhere over here?

Let's take a look.

This might take a minute.

Okay.

Hi.

Mind if I ask you
a couple questions?

Oh, that's a pretty dress.

I wish I could wear that.

Hmm.

Who is that guy?

You don't look very happy,

do you?

Thank you so much.

Huh. Nope.

No clues.

So, while you were down there,
I talked to a guy over there

who said he noticed a man

with a mustache wearing a hat,
sunglasses and expensive shoes.

So... I'm the killer,

but I want to plant this wallet

where nobody will be able
to trace it back to me.

And I choose here, which is...

Oop.

5:00. We're done for the day.

Uh, but... You think we're getting
overtime for this? Come on.

Any big plans for tonight?

Ah, Jesse.

Another Thursday, another
mediocre Butterfly.

Here you are. These
two on the aisle.

Thank you. Thank you.

Oh, wow!

These seats! Mm.

Amazing.

Oh, this is so exciting.

Can you believe it?

This is my first time.

No kidding.

Nice hat.

Oh, God.

Oh, that was so beautiful.

I don't even know what to say.

That was only act one.

How about we stretch
out our legs? Oh, yeah.

You seem like you
come here a lot.

Was that good?

Because that seemed really good.

Ugh. The conducting
is a little sluggish,

and the soprano opted
out of the high note

in her entrance aria.

I've heard better, but I've
definitely heard worse.

Well, it seemed good to me.

May I ask what brought
you here tonight?

These seats aren't easy to get.

Uh, we're with the police.

Our boss, Captain Wagner,
he has connections.

Yeah, the person whose
seats they are was murdered.

Oh, yes. I read
something about that.

Such a tragedy.

God, this city.

Excuse me.

Is that...?

Dr. Yablonsky.

I know that chin.

Aw.

You know, I've done several

Elsbeth chins in the last month.

Really? Mm-hmm.

I'm honored.

I had no idea you
were an opera lover.

Neither did I. Oh...

No, we're actually here as
part of a murder investigation.

Don't tell me I'm
a suspect again.

Oh, no, no, no. This is
just a happy coincidence.

Although I would love to
ask you a few questions.

If you must.

So, according to Eddie Reese's
phone records, he got two calls

that night, one at 12:33 a.m...

which was probably around
the time he was killed...

and one for three minutes
at 9:47, when he was here.

It was Tosca. 8:00 curtain.

Act one ended 8:45.

Act two started roughly 9:15.

9:47 would've been right
around "Vissi d'arte."

That's an aria.

It's pretty famous.

Right. But the call
lasted three minutes.

He didn't take the call
during the opera, did he?

Oh, yes. Phillip Cross,

the aisle seat scold.

He was a successful attorney,

but his firm forced
him out for being

too argumentative.

That's funny.

How Evelyn put up with
him, I'll never know.

Who's Evelyn? His late wife.

I never met her. She died
before I joined this series.

Series?

Oh, the subscription.
11 Thursdays.

Ah.

He does seem to be

a bit of a loner.

Well, I tried.

I just got so tired of
listening to him complain.

Comparing every performance
with his first Tosca

in Philadelphia, 1968,

with Olivia Malapiero
and Gino Gozzi.

Please, I heard Gino Gozzi

when he sang Rigoletto
here in New York,

and he had no legato.

You know, I don't
understand what you're, um,

saying, but I love
the way it sounds.

It's like being an obsessive

sports fan, isn't it?

I don't know why anyone
feels it necessary

to make that comparison,
but with you, I'll allow it.

Oh, hey.

So, that first phone call?

It happened during the opera,
and Eddie left right after.

He took the call? Mm-hmm.

Ooh, I bet that made
people around him

pretty mad.

Still not a motive for murder.

No, probably not.

Oh.

I just hope I can
handle the rest of this.

I'm already a wreck.

How about we go out after?

There's a bar where
all the singers go.

That sounds fantastic.

Do a lot of the opera
fans go there, too?

Hi.

Do you mind if I join you?

For what?

I just, I wanted to apologize.

Sorry.

I just, I'm afraid that, um,

I was a bit distracting
during the opera,

weeping and-and
snorting so loud.

So sorry.

Well, it was odd behavior
for a police investigation.

No. Oh, no, it had
nothing to do with work.

I was just so moved
by Madame Butterfly.

It just tore me to pieces.

It's been a long time

since I've seen someone
gutted that way,

which is really

the only appropriate response.

I mean, there's really
nothing like it, is there?

No, there isn't.

So, uh, do you come here
after every performance?

Just about.

And, yes, I did come here

after Tosca the night
that poor man was killed,

if that's what you're asking.

I think I still
have the receipt.

In fact, uh, I'm sure I do.

Wow.

You're so organized.
I admire that.

No, I was just wondering
if you might have seen

Eddie Reese here after
the opera that night.

No. But I have seen many
interesting goings-on.

Oh. I once saw

Joan Sutherland
sneak out the back

to avoid the critic
from the Times.

Imagine a six-foot,

redheaded Australian coloratura

trying to make
herself invisible.

Huh.

So, a person could come here,

pay and make a quick exit

without being noticed,
couldn't they?

And get a receipt.

You have a devious mind.

I'm a lawyer.

That's funny. Me, too.

Well, I should probably
get back to my friends.

Um, thank you for understanding
about my blubbering.

To be honest,

and to my great surprise...

I enjoyed it.

I'm actually so jealous of you.

Of me? Yes.

You clearly know so
much about opera.

Oh, you must have
a million stories

and memories.

I wish I had someone
who could teach me.

I'm so interested, but...

I wouldn't know where to start.

I wouldn't say we were friends.

More like frenemies.

Phone records show you
called him twice that night.

I made two mill that
day on one trade.

I wanted to rub his face in
it, make him feel like a loser.

You called him at 9:47 to
invite him to meet you, right?

Yeah. I heard him tell
Alexa, the girl he was with.

So, anyone could have
heard where he was going.

You saw him at the club, so...

why'd you call again at 12:33?

Because he stuck
me with the check,

which was a classic Eddie move.

It went to voicemail,
so I got back at him

by sleeping with Alexa. Booyah.

We'd like a DNA sample,
if you don't mind.

I don't think that
second phone call

is the one we should
be focusing on.

Why is that? Sean
says that call

went to voicemail.

The first one
happened when Eddie

was sitting at the opera,

and he took the call.

That was probably
very disturbing

to the people around him.

You really think that
someone would kill a person

for not turning off
their cell phone?

I brought opera cake.

I figured it's the
least I can do,

since you're giving so
generously of your time.

Yes, it is somewhat
uncharacteristic,

but I feel

that your reaction to Puccini
makes it my cultural duty.

Look at all this amazing stuff.

Fritz, who runs the archive at
the opera house, is desperate

to get his hands on it all,

but over my dead body.

Oh.

What's that? That knife.

Oh, it's so shiny.

That was the knife Tosca
used to kill Baron Scarpia

in a production in
Philadelphia in 1968.

Huh. What made that
one so special?

Nothing.

Except it was my first time.

My parents took me.

Oh, that's...

that's sweet.

This is Leyla
Gencer, by the way.

I love how her voice is so high

but also so dark
at the same time.

Exactly.

Now, uh, where shall we
start with your education?

The history of the art form?

Story synopses from
the standard rep?

The principles of
vocal technique?

Oh, I'm interested in all of it.

And that is why you should never
mention Andrew Lloyd Webber

in that context.

I won't make that mistake again.

Any other questions?

Nope, you've been so thorough.

Ah.

Actually, um...

I do have one question.

Why are there no
pictures of Evelyn?

Who told you about Evelyn?

Oh, Dr. Yablonsky.

He has, uh, seats next
to yours on 11 Thursdays.

Yablonsky.

The plastic surgeon

who was a big fan
of Agnes Baltsa?

Must be the same one.

I'll tell you a little secret.

There was no Evelyn.
I've never been married.

No.

When I bought my very first
subscription to the opera,

I bought two seats

and asked various people to
join me... dates, friends,

family members, God help me.

And it wasn't any
fun? Let's just say

none of them reacted
the way you did.

Eventually, I
realized what I prefer

is to have nobody sitting
next to me at all.

The myth of Evelyn
made that possible.

Well, it's a good thing
you figured that out.

So, um,

you really hate it

when people don't behave
properly at the opera.

Nice try, counselor.

The truth is, people have been
behaving poorly at the opera

since the very beginning.

The whole thing started as a
place for shallow, rich people

to dress up and
look at each other,

and it still is.

But one learns to tune
out the philistines

and concentrate on the stage.

Is that what these are for?

Ah.

What these opera
glasses have seen.

Oh, they're beautiful, and
you have so many of them.

Why don't you take a pair?

Really?

I insist.

You've given me a great deal

of pleasure today, Elsbeth.

Now, one more aria
you have to hear.

Okay.

Prepare yourself.

Yup.

Lieutenant.

How's the thorough
going-over going over?

I'm afraid there's an issue.

I assume it has something
to do with Ms. Tascioni.

Actually, no.

The problem is
Officer Kaya Blanke.

I don't understand.

Apparently, when you
entered into the academy,

you did not have the
requisite college credits

for the program that
you were admitted to.

But I did.

I took two AP courses
in high school.

The recruiter told
me they would count.

Well, unfortunately, that
recruiter was a little...

overenthusiastic.

Well, Captain, I know
nothing about this.

I believe you.

Well, it was just an
honest mistake. I swear.

I didn't lie to anyone.

I know, but Lieutenant
Connor found the error,

and he's not going to
look the other way.

So, what happens now?

I can... stall things
for the time being,

but... you need to get
those credits somehow.

What about my job?

I... Yeah?

You've told her?

Officer Blanke is
aware of the situation,

and we will clear
everything up right away.

What does that mean?

It means we will clear it up

and you don't have
to worry about it.

Okay, Captain.

But obviously,

any promotion to detective

will need to be on hold for now.

Obviously.

But, uh, when you sing Scarpia,

you have to be
careful, you know,

because your Tosca
can get carried away.

I was in Philadelphia in 1968

with Olivia Malapiero...

and, uh, the retractable knife

did not retract.

Someone had set it
wrong, you know.

So she stabbed me,
and the knife...

it went through my
coat, through my shirt.

I looked down. Aah!

I was fine, you know, but...

there was so much blood.

Oh, Olivia was terrified
that she would go to prison.

But I wink at her, and
we finished the act.

And there was a little
boy in the audience.

It was his first
opera, and as a joke,

we gave him the faulty knife.

A strange souvenir for a child,

but he was a strange child.

Hi. Ooh! Hey. Look.

The retractable knife

didn't retract.

Why didn't Phillip
tell me that story?

He talked for four hours.

I asked him about
that very performance.

Why would he leave
that part out?

Who is that guy?

Um, oh, that's, uh, Gino Gozzi.

He was interviewed in
1978, ten years later.

He died in 2007.

Was he a hunchback?
Huh? Oh, no.

That's him as Rigoletto.

Ooh, that's another opera
about this court jester

who... Hey.

Oh, my gosh. Kaya,
what's wrong?

What happened?

Lab results. I'll
tell you later.

The DNA on the
body does not match

the DNA on the opera glasses

you stole from Phillip
Cross's apartment.

You did what?

He gave them to me
as a gift. I swear.

And there's no match with Sean,

the "frenemy," either,
so we got nothing.

We still have that strange
bruise on the body.

The hilt mark.

We should go over
the autopsy again.

Actually, Officer
Blanke, you will need

to step back from the case,

under the current circumstances.

What circumstances?

Yes, what circumstances?

It's complicated.

Whatever they are,

I think you're making
a mistake, Captain.

This one's got the makings
of a first-rate detective.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Hey.

She's right about
that hilt mark.

Borrow it? Yes.

Just for a day or two.

Did Fritz put you up to this?

Fritz? From the
opera house archive.

I told you he's
been trying to get

his grubby little
hands on this stuff.

It has nothing to do with Fritz.

It's actually about the
murder investigation.

What would that
have to do with me?

I know it's silly, but
there's a mark on the body

that could've come from
a retractable knife,

like this one.

That's absurd.

I know, it seems crazy.

And that's why I thought,
well, let's just ask him.

Let's just test the knife

to prove that the
victim's DNA isn't on it.

Oh, I see. Very
clever. Mm-hmm.

No. No? Why not?

It would put you in the clear.

I'm already in the clear.

I have no motive.

And how would it be
possible for anyone

to commit murder...

with a retractable knife?!

You see?

Case closed.

What does that little switch do?

I don't know how it works.

It's something I own
for sentimental value.

And not something I
intend to part with,

especially without a warrant,

which you won't be able to get,

considering I'm just someone

who happened to be
sitting behind someone

hours before they died.

I see.

Well played, counselor.

I'm sorry to have bothered you.

I'm afraid, dear Elsbeth,

you've been listening
to too much opera.

Real life is a lot less
dramatic than that.

Addio.

I still think that knife
was the murder weapon.

Why not see if Captain
Wagner can get a warrant?

Oh, it's no point.

It's shiny, which
means that he probably

put it in the dishwasher.

Eddie's blood would
be long gone by now.

If only we had found
Phillip's DNA on the body.

Even if we had, it still
wouldn't be conclusive.

Phillip was sitting right
behind Eddie at the opera,

yelling "bravo" all over him.

Oh, you're right.

You can look now.

Oh, Kaya.

I love it.

Are you sure you
don't want to keep it?

Oh, my gosh, it
looks so good on you.

Thanks, but no.

I-I love it, too, but I won't
be detective anytime soon.

College credits cost money,

and every penny counts. Oof.

Maybe I should just

leave the tags on and
wear it out just once.

Do people do that? Probably.

But with my luck,
I'd just get caught.

Once you wear something,
you're on it forever.

Maybe not forever,

but long enough.

Elsbeth, I want to play you
some Elisabeth Schwarzkopf,

a great diva with
regrettable Nazi ties.

Oh, no, thank you.

Not today.

I came to return these.

You got all the DNA you needed?

I knew what you were doing.

And I knew it was
a waste of time.

I sat behind Eddie
Reese at the opera,

so my DNA would prove nothing.

Funny, that's exactly what
Officer Blanke said you'd say.

Oh, you remember Kaya?

And this is Detective Fleming.

Oh, and you know Fritz, the
archivist from the opera house.

Oh, hello, Phillip. You
have added some things.

Hello, Fritz.

What's going on?
What is all this?

It turns out DNA did
solve the case, Phillip.

But it wasn't yours.

I don't understand.

Well, I had a hunch,
and I had to follow it.

I could tell from your face

in Eddie Reese's selfies
how much you hated him,

and I don't really blame you.

I mean, he was a
nightmare to sit behind.

And you were the person
who invented a fake wife

just so no one would
sit next to you.

But that phone
call during Tosca,

oh, it must have sent
you over the edge.

Especially when Eddie
answered the call

and had a whole conversation.

We figure that's when you
heard where he was going.

You were so upset, you
came straight home.

And that's when
you saw the knife

and you thought, "That's
what he deserves."

You went back out,

you stopped at your favorite
bar for a quick drink

and a receipt... for an alibi...

before sneaking out the back

like Joan Sutherland.

Oh, my gosh.

I've been listening to her.

She was so amazing.

Ms. Tascioni, don't
lose the thread.

Then you went to wait for
Eddie outside the club,

followed him home, slipped
in the door behind him,

and then you stabbed him

like Tosca stabbing
Baron Scarpia!

The knife retracted the first
time, leaving the hilt mark,

but you flipped the
switch fast enough

to stab Eddie for
real, over and over.

This is all very entertaining,

but I haven't heard
a thing about DNA.

There was mysterious
DNA found on the body,

but it wasn't yours
and it wasn't Sean's.

So, whose was it?

It was Gino Gozzi's.

Gino Gozzi?

The baritone?

His blood was on the knife,

from that night in
Philadelphia in 1968.

But... you can't prove that.

Gino Gozzi has been
dead for years.

You don't have a DNA sample.

I said I had a hunch,
but really Fritz did.

Dr. Yablonsky
mentioned that he saw

Gino Gozzi singing
Rigoletto in New York.

And wouldn't you know...

This is the hump that
Gino Gozzi wore in 1972.

Never been washed,

and that man sweat like a pig.

The DNA matches.

And the only way
Gino Gozzi's blood

could have gotten on
Eddie Reese's dead body

was from the prop
knife from Tosca,

which was in your possession.

That is a strange
memento to give a child.

You washed Eddie's blood off
the knife after you killed him,

but it was too late.

You had already
transferred Gino Gozzi's.

Well...

I'm impressed.

Me, too.

It wasn't about sex or money.

Take him.

Well, at least there
won't be any cell phones.

Silver lining.

I have to know,

were you really crying,

or were you just
pretending for my benefit?

Oh, no.

No, it's a beautiful art form.

There's really nothing like it.

You know, I still have nights
left on my subscription.

Would you like to take my seats?

Oh, no, thank you.

As much as I enjoyed it, um,

once or twice a year is enough.

Besides, I have to walk my dog.

Ah, well.

La commedia è finita.

Oh. The last line
from Pagliacci.

"The comedy is over."

Brava, carissima.

Hands off, Fritz.

You vulture.

So, how many
classes do you take?

Two, but there are like
a million to choose from.

I could just take a
gut like astronomy,

but I figure if I
have to do this,

I should probably
learn something

that I could use on the
job, like psychology.

Oh, that's smart. Mm-hmm.

Although, I have always wanted

to read more English literature.

Mmm.

Or...

Oh, God, how am I going
to figure this out?

And how am I going to
pay for my mortgage

and classes at the same time?

You will. In fact...

and I don't think this
breaks any rules...

I, um...

brought you a little
something to get you started.

Is this a back-to-school
tote bag? Yes.

Look, there's, um,
pens, ooh, a calculator,

lots of different colored
flash cards and sticky notes.

You know how I love flash
cards and sticky notes.

This...

Thank you, Elsbeth.

You'll get through this.

Mm.

I know it feels like

that this is some dumb mistake

that wasn't even your fault
and it's come back to bite you,

but don't worry.

You'll figure it out
and make a fresh start.

Okay.

Okay. Let's pick
out some classes.

Okay.

Get in, Ms. Tascioni.

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