Original subtitles

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.

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.

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.

Sync and correction by solfieri www.addic7ed.com.

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. 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 com media 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.