Endgame (2011): Season 1, Episode 3 - The Caffeine Hit - full transcript

(cars honking)

(soft instrumental music)

Excuse me, do you know
where the Huxley Hotel is?

Excuse me, do you know
where, do you know where...

Does anybody know where the Huxley is?

Hey Mr. Balagan, it's me, Sam Besht.

I'm on my way up.

It's not going to happen.
Could you just please

meet with this cop?
No!

He's taking over...
Mr. Balagan.

Hello Sam.



Hi, not you...

(background noise drowns out speaker)

He can help us.

The police only help
themselves and their masters...

Excuse me.

This one's different, all right?

He's young, he's eager.

He's trying to prove himself.
The worst.

So, there's no word
on my thesis proposal.

I'm kind of freaking out.

Arkady, we have to share
what we know with the cops.

Man: Listen, I have
been more than patient...

It'll jump-start their investigation...

I've been standing here for
15 minutes being patient.



Please, I had drinks at your bar.

Would you just look at it.

Sir, please, just calm down.

It's a piece of paper.

You could have picked it up anywhere.

Yeah, I'm waiting on the
dates for the archbishop.

We changed suppliers.

I smell like a dessert buffet.

Listen, does anyone care
that I can't find my wife?

Just tell me please if I was staying

here with her, that's all!

The hotel misplaced your wife?

That's no surprise.

I don't know where your wife is,

but our hotel concierge
would be more than happy

to call social services.

And nothing is stopping
you from purchasing

the products that suit your needs.

Just help me.

Help me?

Help me find my wife.

Excuse me, sir, I'm going
to have to ask you to leave.

This hotel is for paying guests only.

What makes you think he's not a guest?

Come on, he's not wearing any shoes.

So?

He has no key card.

I told you, I lost it, okay?

Along with everything else.

I have nothing!

So, look him up in your computer.

He doesn't know his name.

Nice suit.

Super 100s Merino.

"Fancy schmancy."

He stole it, obviously.

Mm-mm.

It was single-tailor bespoke.

It was made for him.

You have money, my friend.

Really?

I don't remember anything.

I bet $5,000 I can find out who you are,

and that you'll be able
to afford it once I do.

Make it 10 if you can find my wife.

What makes you so
certain you have a wife?

Because I miss her.

Because he misses her.

Come.

(upbeat music)

So, was my shoe-borrowing friend here?

Yeah, he was having drinks
at that table last night.

With?

Big eyes, long hair, pretty.

Designer labels tits to toes.

Tasteful, though.

My wife?

You were screaming at each other.

His wife.

What were we yelling about?

Well, it was nothing coherent,

but I guess you were upset enough

to smash a glass, thanks for that.

I'm sorry, I don't remember.

Well, she ran out,
and you paid the bill,

but you didn't hold back on the tip.

Can you look this up on your computer?

I need to find the name
on the credit card.

I could, but I don't need to.

You're Casey Roman, the coffee guy.

You supply great beans to hip cafes.

Surfing.

Yeah, I think that's
how you got started.

You and a surfing buddy
were bringing beans

back from South America.

Colombia?
No, Brazil.

Organic, fair trade.

It's good stuff.

The pricey stuff.

Hmm.

You've done well for yourself.

See?

I win my bet.
Yeah, part one.

Now, what about part two, my wife?

Well, first we get you
checked out with a doctor.

No, first we find my wife.

If you're looking for
your wife, start at home.

My associate, Sam, will find
your contact information.

Yeah, this is it.

So, what do you remember?

Waking up and going to the hotel.

Everything before that is fuzzy.

Childhood, surfing, feelings.

You don't remember
what your wife looks like?

No, all the faces in my head are blobs.

Names?

No.

Well, if you were mugged,
it could be brain trauma.

Well, no, there's no blood,

there's no bruising,
just a dull throbbing.

Well, still, it could be a haematoma,

or brain cancer, maybe
poison, or you're faking.

Why would I be faking this?

I don't know.

It's something Mr. Balagan would say.

So, what's the deal with
this Balagan guy anyway?

He's the world chess champion.

I mean, he was.

He's famous, and he really likes puzzles.

So, he can't leave the hotel?

Well, he doesn't.

Uh-oh.

Hello!

This police Detective,

he doesn't expect me
to come to the station?

He'll meet us here.

Whatever makes you happy.

Oh, sure.

He doesn't want me to badmouth the cops,

and what do we get out of it?

Answers to my sister's murder.

The witness who sits in front of the hotel

for 97 minutes, later dies in a fire.

The call-girl who said that

that guy was her driver, she disappears.

The police can dig in ways we can't.

We know where it all leads, Pippa...

Don't say KGB, okay?

Just just not in public.

It sounds crazy.

What's not crazy about two innocent people

being gunned down in front of a hotel?

I will meet with inspector Clouseau

if it will make you happy.

It will.

Thank you.

(phone ringing)

Sam let's see if
you've earned any games.

The wife, you found her?

Beatrice.

The mail says her name's
Beatrice Wychwood,

and no, she's not around.

But, kind of creepy, the
house was broken into.

Hmm, burglary.

Doesn't look like it.

Nothing obvious is missing.

There's even a laptop and half a bottle

of gin still sitting here.

Maybe something not obvious was taken.

What, like the cat?

Balagan: Like a Faberge
egg collection, Sam.

Yeah, they don't really
seem like egg people.

Any signs of foul play?

Her car's still out front,
there's no body, no blood.

Ah, kidnapping.

Maybe.

The cops are writing it up.

And what do the fascists make of it?

Well, Casey's wife hasn't
been gone long enough

to be considered a missing person

and the whole amnesia thing
isn't exactly helping.

What do you think's going on?

How should I know?

Get me more information, and
take him to the hospital.

I want to know if he's faking it.

I'm trying.

He's stubborn.

Casey?

Maybe next week.

Hey, Casey, dude!

I've been calling and calling.

Sorry, I lost my phone.

Are you my business partner?

Yeah.

I also lost my memory.

Well what, for serious?

Well, what did the docs say?

Next stop, hospital.

Sam Besht.

I work with the chess
master, Arkady Balagan.

We're trying to help Casey find his wife.

Karsh Vandermeer.

Wait, why are you looking for Bea?

Well, I think we
had a fight last night,

and now I can't find her.

Oh, damn.

Oh, I guess that didn't go well.

Wait, you know about last night?

Yeah, you two were going for drinks.

You know, trying to work
things out without the lawyers.

What lawyers?

You and Beatrice are in the
middle of a wicked divorce.

She threw you out, changed the locks.

You've both been totally crazy.

No, no.

No, I love her.

You used to.

What happened?

Life?

All right, you know, come on,

I'm taking you to the hospital, like, now.

We've got to figure out
what's wrong with you.

Come on.

Hey, hey, so, it was a stroke.

Ah!
A little ischaemic stroke.

They put him on dipyridamole.

And told him to come back in a week.

No obvious physical symptoms,

but the MRI shows a cortical infarct,

which may or may not be
the cause of his amnesia.

Meaning Casey may or may
not be faking his memory loss.

What would he gain
with a move like that?

I don't know what the game
is, Sam, and where's his wife?

We went to the bank.

There was no activity on the
joint account or credit card.

Same with the cell phone
plan, total silence.

But, here's the
5,000 you earned so far.

Where is he now?

I left him with his business partner.

Casey's really upset.

Or pretending to be.

You get rid of that homeless guy yet?

He's a rich coffee importer.

Yeah, and I'm the king of Sweden.

No my footnotes!

I forgot to renumber them.

That's why they're ignoring
my thesis proposal.

Sam, concentrate on the move at hand.

We're meeting with someone.

Who?

Her.

Hot.

We'll talk about your thesis later.

And you must be Anya.

So how long have I been crashing here?

A couple months.

You've slept in worse places, though.

I guess.

So, which one of these is mine?

Dude, this one.

Oh, okay.

Okay, so I'll check in on you manana.

Hey, thank you.

Yeah.

Baby.

Sweetheart.

It's you.

I've been looking for you.

And I've been waiting for you.

Charlie's back tonight.

I've only got an hour.

Who's Charlie?

My husband?

You're not Beatrice?

(groans)

That's Beatrice.

I didn't know if you
had a photograph of her.

It was taken last year
on the way to the cabin.

Yes, that's very helpful.

I don't mean to be rude, but
how exactly is a chess player

gonna find a missing woman?

What makes you think she's missing?

We were supposed to do a
spin class this afternoon.

She didn't show, didn't call.

I tried e-mailing and phoning.

Well, and then Karsh told me about Casey,

and I don't know, I got worried.

Can you find her?

Oh, you look sadder than before.

You must have Russian blood.

I just found out I'm
cheating on my wife.

This is Anya.

It's your business partner's wife.

She works part-time at the company.

I do the books for you guys.

Anya.

You and my wife are friends?

That's right.

This is Beatrice.

I remember getting married.

You were maid of honor.

Karsh was best man.

Oceanside wedding.

It's awkward being caught
in the middle of a divorce.

It sure is.

Especially when
you're sleeping with him.

What?

No.

Your body language says otherwise.

You guys have totally done it.

I'm sleeping with my
best man's wife, too?

Please, you can't tell anyone.

Karsh and Beatrice don't know.

I know you're sleeping with Anya!

I'm telling Karsh!

Oh, please, he'll never believe you.

Oh, yeah?

I have photos!

I'm gonna castrate you.

The house, the car, the businesses?

Mine.

What is it?

What's wrong?

Selfish, sex-crazed bastard.

Mom was right.

Don't marry a surfer.

(cat meowing)

Aw, sweetie he never
feeds you, does he?

(dramatic orchestral music)

Perhaps your wife is
missing because you killed her.

(background noise drowns out other sounds)

(uplifting music)

Mr. Balagan.

Sam.

All of this needs to be wiped down

and returned to storage.

If you killed your wife,
I'm going to prove it.

You do, and I'll gladly turn myself in.

And you'll still owe me $5,000.

So, let's be diligent
and retrace your steps.

I ride.

Oh, you like horses?

Well, I know a guy who's got a beauty

of an Appaloosa over in Abbotsford.

Excuse me.

How are you?

Good.

My apologies, but sexual relations

between staff and guests
are strictly prohibited.

It's not recommended either, so.

So, Mr. Doorman.

Hello.

You were on duty two nights ago, right?

Yes, sir, Mr. Balagan.

I was.

Mhm.

Do you remember this man?

The gentleman was
having words with a lady

the whole time they were
getting in their cabs.

You got two taxis for them?

And what was the lady's destination?

An address on Point Grey road.

That's our house.

So Beatrice went right home after drinks.

And did the gentleman
by any chance follow?

Definitely not, no.

So where did I go?

Success!

You pieced together your movements?

All that and a bag of coffee.

According to the
doorman, Casey took a taxi

from the hotel to the
False Creek Marina, right?

Well, when we got there,
we found someone he knows.

Hm, this is what he was up to.

Yup.

Oh, my God, if I'd known
that you'd had a stroke,

I would never have kneed you in the balls.

And did she say anything helpful?

Mhm.

So that was last night.

What about two nights ago?

Casey came by just as I was closing up,

and he was super pissed about the fight

that he'd just had with
his wife at the Hux,

needed to blow off some steam,

so we went back to the boat
and spent the rest of the night

puttin' some motion in the Pacific Ocean.

And in the morning?

Shared a taxi.

I got out at my condo in Yaletown,

and you rushed off to a
meeting at the warehouse.

So on your way to the warehouse then,

you stopped at your house for a shower

and a touch of murder.

My place isn't en route.

He's right, there was no time.

Casey was last seen by his lover at 9:45,

the meeting was scheduled for 10:00.

You were right on time, too.

Here, that's the same
number you had before.

Don't lose this one.

So, what was the meeting about?

Oh, we're in talks with Wynn's
steakhouse to supply beans.

Hey, that chain's nation-wide.

Here.

A tribute for that brilliant chess guy.

After the meeting, that's
when you killed your wife.

Nope, no dice.

I had another appointment, and
Karsh said he dropped me off

right at my lawyer's office.

And you confirmed you went inside?

Definitely.

According to my lawyer, I was all...

God damn it!

I don't care how you do it!

I want the non-disclosure on
that bitch, and I want it now!

Oh, looks like someone
is about to have a stroke.

An order of non-disclosure, why?

To keep Beatrice from
shooting her mouth off

about the business.

The divorce was total war.

So, according to the time-line, then,

you had the argument at
the hotel with your wife.

Excuse me.

You spend all night with another woman,

you attended a business
meeting in the morning,

went to your lawyer's office,
and then you had a stroke.

Yeah.

Oh, come on!

(laughing)

Those are Casey's movements,
totally accounted for.

So we know you did not
have time to kill your wife.

Thank God.

But that's all we know.

Hey, I'll take it.

Mm!

Distinguished yet complex.

It starts with apricot
and finishes with leather.

A hint of, um, gooseberries.

This is the kind of
coffee that will power me

through a PhD thesis, or would have,

if I hadn't screwed up my proposal.

Oh, it's not to the
Mayan princess's liking?

It may be a poor batch of beans.

Your palate has been ruined by years

of overpriced franchise coffee.

Never in my life.

She's right, it's crap.

Pft!

Says the man with amnesia.

No, I just know.

It's the beans.

They've got no snap, no body.

The only flavor seems to
come from over-roasting.

And yet you sell
this as premium coffee.

See the color?

They've been grown in anemic soil.

Oh, and look how mottled.

They've been dried too fast, in an oven.

My cousin is coffee farmer.

He would be ashamed to
sell beans like this.

These aren't even
Brazilian Bourbon Santos.

These were shipped from Colombia.

Colombia.

Home of the best coffee, and the worst.

Hey, back again, bud?

The doctor told you to rest up.

Hey, come here.

We say we're selling high-grade beans,

but look at this, look at this.

Industrial crap.

So, what, we're con men?

About five years ago.

We were struggling.

It was your idea.

Oh, it was my idea, huh?

You found this supplier of
dirt-cheap beans in Colombia,

totally willing to fake
the packaging for us.

You set the whole thing up
before you even pitched it to me

I just went along for the ride.

You just went along for the ride.

Hey, shh!

You said it was only until
we weathered the storm.

Yeah, but we never went back
to selling the premium beans.

The profits, dude,
you loved the profits.

Wow, I'm a dick.

Come on, it's not like
anybody's been complaining.

All people taste are the label.

So, what, we thought we could keep a fraud

like this going forever?

Yeah, you were definitely gonna try.

Yup, it's coffee fraud.

Probably Beatrice was
threatening to tell the world

unless Casey gave her what
she wanted in the divorce.

According to Karsh, yeah.

That's why Casey wanted
that non-disclosure thing.

Casey!

Man, you've gotta give
Beatrice what she wants!

No, no!

The harpy gets nothing!

I'm gonna hit her with
a non-disclosure order!

That'll shut her up.

Yeah, and if it doesn't?

Then the business is pooched, dude!

We're gonna go to jail.
No, never!

I promise!

Yeah, yeah, it's me.

So how much would it cost me

to have someone silenced permanently?

Gather all of Casey's financials,
personal and business,

and bring Karsh's lovely wife, Anya.

She's a bookkeeper.

She'll help make sense of it all.

Sam: Okay, why?

We need to look for a
large transfer of funds.

Casey did not kill his wife,

but maybe he paid
someone to do it for him.

Arkady, this is Detective Jason Evans.

My condolences.

Renata, Everett.

I didn't know you were coming.

My suggestion.

I thought everyone should hear
the new information together.

Of course.

Pippa and I have made some
troubling discoveries.

Well, maybe I could start.

As you know, I'm new to Rosemary's file.

Now, I've looked at your
daughter's case with a fresh eye.

Now, what we know Rosemary
Venturi was in Vancouver

visiting family while her fiance,

Arkady Balagan, participated
in a chess tournament.

While she was getting
into the car of a friend,

Gregory Lamont.

(suspenseful orchestral music)

The murders were a case
of mistaken identity.

Exactly.

Greg was mistaken for me.

I was the mark.

Greg and Rosemary were
wrongly targeted in a gang hit.

It was a Russian operation.

We'd like to hear the Detective finish.

I'm working with the
Federal Major Crime Task Force.

Now, the M. O. of the shootings suggests...

The man in the other car sat
there for an hour and a half.

He was the spotter for the assassin.

It's classic KGB.

KGB, of course.

This is a this is dashboard video

that was obtained from a
taxi in front of the hotel.

We're not saying that necessarily
it's Russian, we're just...

We are.

Pippa I am.

Putin was trying to stop me

from donating money to the
pro-democracy movement.

Putin?

Arkady, this is not about you.

These are professionals.

The police's investigation is

(speaking in foreign language)

They don't give a damn about Rosemary.

The police were at Rosemary's funeral.

Where were you?

Nice, mom.

Ark!

Ark, I was blind-sided the same as you.

Evans said nothing to me
about my parents coming.

You should have called up to my room.

You would have bailed!

We have to play nice with Evans.

It's him or nothing!

Samuel!

Haven't you moved yet?

F5.

Anya found something.

Why are you protecting that pawn

when I'm about to fork your king and rook?

What did Anya find?

Last month, we paid for
five shipments of beans,

but we only received four.

There's a missing shipment?

No, you only ordered
four, but you paid for five.

You overpaid by?

50,000.

Mm.

Who authorized it?

It's my code.

You overpaid the Colombians by $50,000.

There you go.

Enough to have someone murdered.

I took out a hit on my wife.

And you were claiming
it as a company expense.

I love businessmen.

What about Beatrice?

She is in danger.

We need to do something.

Shh.

Panic is the great forfeiter.

(camera clicks)

(melancholy orchestral music)

So?

Does the great Balagan have my death

weighing on his mind as well?

We don't know you're dead.

Sure I am.

After I left Casey at
the hotel, I went home.

Then the hit man broke in and killed me.

So where's your body?

Hit man got rid of it.

What for?

The job was done.

Fine, I didn't go home.

Wherever I went, that's
where I was killed.

We know the taxi took you home.

Okay, smarty pants.

I went home.

I heard someone trying
to break in, and I ran.

He caught up with me in the
woods and slit my throat.

So you were scared, but
you didn't call the police?

You didn't go to your neighbors
and pound on the door?

Oh, you're right.

I was upset.

I went home, packed a bag,

and got the hell out
of town with my lover.

You shut up.

Did you take your cat with you?

Was there a cat
what-do-you-call-it in the house?

A what?

The thing, for cats.

I don't know what you call it in English.

The Carrier?

A carrier, yes!

Was there one of those in the house?

No idea.
Why?

Your cat is annoying me.

When a piece is bothering
me, it's for a reason.

Like this pawn you're counting

on turning into a queen in the endgame.

No cat carrier upstairs.

Nothing downstairs except kitty litter.

Nothing in the backyard,
nothing in the garage.

So this tells us what?

That Beatrice went somewhere with the cat?

That someone broke into the
house and stole the cat?

It tells us Mr. Balagan
is onto something, maybe.

Great, a Colombian hit man

might be after my wife right now,

and we're hung up on a cat.
Look at this.

Santa stole the cat?

Not the photo, the flyer.

It is entirely possible this cat hotel

has information on where
your wife has gone.

(melancholy piano music)

(door clicks)

Mr. Balagan?

She's alive.

She's dead.

So, we followed up on your cat theory.

She's alive.

The cat?

No, Beatrice.

She dropped Couscous off at a cat hotel

and went to a yoga retreat.

Of course.

What else is there to
do in this town, huh?

We figure she went home
just long enough to pack,

down some gin, and grab Couscous.

The staff at the cat hotel said

she showed up in a taxi at 9:15.

She said she was going straight
from there to the retreat.

Hello, Couscous.

We must warn your wife
about the contract killer.

Do you have a number for the yoga retreat?

She's not taking any of my calls.

I've left, like, 20 messages.

Then we cannot send you.

Sam.

You'll need a woman.

If you do brain scans of the
striatum during game play,

you start to realize the
mesolimbic dopamine system

is involved with the reward metric.

Sammy, but maybe you
could simplify for me?

All right, well, current
game theory basically sucks.

Why?

Because the models assume
that we make decisions

based on rational self-interest,

but what my thesis topic
proposes is quite the contrary,

most of our decisions are irrational.

How many years of
school did it take you

to come up with that?

I told you, it's beyond simplification.

How much does Mr. Balagan pay you?

Nothing.

He plays me games.

Does he pay you?

No, but his tips are very generous.

Huh.

Left here.

Couscous?

Is she okay?

Beatrice.

(uplifting oriental music)

Beatrice!

A hit man, Casey?

Really?

A hit man?

Please, that That's the old me.

Okay?

Now, whatever I've been like

for the past few years,
you can forget about it.

I love you.

Did you even have a stroke,
or are you faking that, too?

That's what we said.

I have a doctor's report.

I'm a changed man, and I will do whatever

it takes for us to be together.

I fall for your crap every time.

The other night, Karsh said
you wanted to reconcile.

Within 30 seconds, you'd turned
it into a screaming match.

Never again.

Casey Roman, Bazza Brew Coffee,

I knew I recognized you, but, listen,

the hotel lobby may not be the best place

to pick a fight with the old
lady, you know what I mean?

Mr. Balagan is trying to
protect my wife from a hit man.

And we need your help, of course.

All right, why don't you
start from the beginning,

I'll decide what you need.

What about me?

What am I supposed to do?

It's okay.

It's okay, go to the bar.

Danni will look after
you, on my tab, all right?

We'll fix things.

It's okay.

Beatrice?

Tell me about that hit man.

It's complicated.

Perhaps even more
complicated than we think.

Why would you arrange
drinks with your wife

when you'd already planned to kill her?

Why make a scene?

Because I'm a scumbag?

Perhaps.

Hey.
Oh, hi.

So Karsh says you're
serious about reconciling.

And you believed that?

You stupid cow.

You're here because I wanted
to see the look on your face

when you heard I'm getting a gag order.

You think that'll stop me?

I've already drafted a press release

about your coffee fraud.

Bitch!

You'll never be able to send it.

The hit man was there.

You were his spotter.

Explain that to me
like I just had a stroke?

You invited your wife out for drinks

so you could point her out to the hit man.

So if this guy was there,
and he had a good look at her,

then why is Beatrice still alive?

When he went to her place that night

and tried to break in,
Beatrice had already left.

And she's been at the
yoga retreat ever since.

Hidden from view.

Which means...

Oh, hell.

Did you clowns really just flush

the target out into the open?

(uplifting music)

So, why do you think
the hit man is here now?

Simple.

If he's been watching
you, watching the house

He knows your wife is here.

Amateurs.

What?

Are you are you kidding me?

I'll be right there.

I submitted my thesis
proposal a week early!

Which means I still have time
to remember my footnotes.

What's that all about?

You texted?

Do you remember anyone drinking alone

during this smashed-glass incident?

Maybe a few.

There always are.

Do you recognize any of
them in there right now?

Maybe three?

Call the cops, arrest em all.

No, much simpler, I stroll in,

announce there's an
assassin in their midst.

The killer knows that I know,
and he will abort the mission.

Stupid idea, Mr. Balagan.

It's perfectly logical.

Too logical.

You assume the assassin will act

out of purely rational self-interest.

That is outdated mode of game theory.

Have you been studying with Sam?

Sam is a smart boy when he's
not trying to be so clever.

Well, you too, when you're
not being so arrogant.

It's not arrogant if I'm right.

Arrogance.

Professional pride.

That's what will keep the
assassin going after the target,

even if he knows it's risky.

So, what do we do?

Like I said, call the cops.

No, no, no.

The police could look
like heroes, or you can.

We need to give the assassin
a direct order to stop,

and we need whomever hired him to do it.

We need Karsh here right now.

Why Karsh?

Because Karsh could have
used the business to hire

the assassin just as easily as you could,

and for the same reason,
to keep Beatrice quiet.

If it was him, he worked hard

to make it look like I did it.

Well, maybe he found out

you were grinding his wife's beans.

Man, people suck.

Hello, sir.

(phone ringing)

Yes?

Your company
is here, Mr. Balagan.

Thank you.

Everyone!

I just heard the lost remains

of Emperor Ivan VI have been discovered!

Champagne for everyone, on me!

Ah, good timing.

The bubbly's just starting to flow.

Your friend is at the bar.

Karsh, come sit with us a minute.

Beatrice is safe?

Sweet!

So, what's up with you guys?

Well, we were just wondering,

did I set up drinks with
Beatrice, or did you?

Oh, that.

I'm no astronaut, sweetie,

but I bet we could achieve lift-off.

It's a solo mission.

Okay, here's the deal.

I told you that Beatrice
wanted to meet to reconcile,

and then I gave Beatrice
the same story about you.

Why the hell would you do that?

I figured if you and
Bea got back together,

then she'd keep quiet about the business.

Abort?

Or were you just trying
to frame me for her murder?

Dude, why would you even think that?

Because you found out

I was sleeping with your wife, Karsh.

You and Anya?

There.

She's the assassin.

Now, which of you hired her?

She's sending a message to one of you

to verify if the job is on or off.

Take out your phones.

Take out your phones.

Did Anya put you up to this?

To arrange a meeting
between Casey and Beatrice?

Well, she thought it was worth

one last try to get them together.

I thought it was a good idea.

But the hit woman looked over here.

Why is she messaging Anya?

Anya set it up, but she's
been pretending to be you.

Why?

Why?

To frame you.

Perhaps she found out

she wasn't the only woman
you were cheating with,

or maybe she was trying to protect herself

in case the hit was exposed.

What the hell?

Apologies.

"Operation still a go."

What, so?

Of course.

So, everything that you did
was to help me find Beatrice

for your hit woman and to frame Casey,

even admitting your affair with him.

You were sleeping with Casey?

This is insane.

You tried to kill me?

You guys have always been insane.

I am done.

No, we have to talk.

Madam, you'll have to come with me.

Oh!

Hey!

Stay down!

Stay down

Now, you messed with the
head of hotel security, lady.

There will be charges.

God, I'm too old for this.

(suspenseful orchestral music)

Mr. Balagan!

It's me, Sam.

Sam Besht.

I took care of my thesis, and, actually,

my advisor says that it's
one of the best proposals

that's ever come across.

Straight into offshore accounts,

so I'll send you the rest
of your fee, with a bonus.

A bonus will be a bonus.

So, what are you going to
do about those fake beans?

That will stop.

If I can patch things up with Karsh.

So Casey didn't try to kill me?

Definitely not.

Can I sleep at home?

You have amnesia.

I don't.

Guest room.

Thank you.

Thanks.

Good luck.

So, did anything happen?

Did I miss something?

No, nothing at all.

Well, you look less
angry-screamy than last time.

I've decided I will meet
again with Detective Jason Evans,

hear him out, get on his nice side.

I already had coffee with him.

It's taken care of.

Good.

Drink?

Sure.

Let me.

Thank you.

Maybe this time, they will be happy.

Hmm.

(melancholy orchestral music)

Some memories, it's good to lose.

And some memories are all we have.

(upbeat music)