Law & Order: Special Victims Unit (1999–…): Season 4, Episode 4 - Lust - full transcript

In the criminal
justice system,

sexually based offenses are
considered especially heinous.

In New York City,

the dedicated detectives who
investigate these vicious felonies

are members of an elite squad
known as the Special Victims Unit.

These are their stories.

I told you that dog trainer
was a waste of money.

You gotta give her
the special whistle.

Radio! See?
She listens to me. Radio!

Radio, come!

Instead of obedience school, I
could've bought a flat-screen TV.



Oh, my God.
What is it?

Doug!

Oh, God. Oh, no.

Call 911.
Oh, God.

Radio.

We walk Radio here
every morning.

So you might know
if she's a regular?

No. Her face
was such a mess,

you couldn't even tell
what she looked like.

Sorry, Detective. I wish
we could be more helpful.

If anything
comes to mind.

Ray.
Yeah?

Walk these two
out for me, will you?

Sure thing, Munch.
Thanks.



All right.
Come on, let's go.

Over by the benches.
Keep moving.

Looks like she's
in her 50s or 60s.

The only ID
is a key on a string.

Any luck?
The guys saw nothing.

What about her?

Beaten, stabbed,
the whole nine.

Body's still warm.

What he did to her face he
repeated down below. Check this out.

It's a dog's paw print.

Too small to be
that retriever's.

Yeah, well,
she carries dog treats.

Maybe the print
belonged to her own pooch.

Detectives,
check this out.

Bloody knife
wrapped in plastic.

We're not gonna be able to
get any prints off that bag.

What's that?
What?

Disposable rain poncho.

He used it to protect
himself from the spatter.

Bright, sunny day,
nobody notices the guy.

Just another freak
in the big city.

So where's this pup while
its master's getting mauled?

Tied to this tree.

No tags.
Dog wiggles free.

Runs to her
and leaves the paw print.

And doesn't stay.

Maybe Lassie
went to get help.

Thirty-seven
deep puncture wounds

to the chest,
mostly on the breasts.

Angry son of a bitch.

Acute pneumothorax.

She drowned
in her own blood.

Did the perp leave
his calling card?

No fluids.

But the vaginal wounds
had wooden splinters.

Matches the bark
from this branch

we found at the scene.

Blood belongs to the victim.

Any luck with the prints?

Nothing yet.

We'll need to do
a facial reconstruction.

He smashed her nose,
cheekbones, jaw.

One eye was
completely destroyed.

She was also wearing this.

Wow. That's some ring.

Whoever married her
has some bucks.

Well, I hope
he misses her soon.

We'll check
the diamond district,

see if anyone recognizes
the craftsmanship.

This might speed things up.

Look for a missing woman
in her 60s with a limp.

How'd you get that?

Her right leg is one inch
shorter than the left,

probably from
childhood polio.

Vaccine didn't
come out till 1954.

So, we're talking
classic overkill.

M.E. Says that any one of the
puncture wounds would've done the job.

Perp wanted her to suffer
and got off on it.

Glad you could join us.

Sorry, parent-teacher
conference ran late.

Read it and weep.

Guy could be
some psycho

high after a night
of fun and games.

Or a deluded park dweller
who forgot to take his meds.

Or it's personal.

Poncho,
that feels premeditated.

What do we know about her?

She's a Jane Doe
in the park.

Which is why I don't have time for theories.

The media is already
breathing down my neck.

You gotta give me
something solid.

There's nothing to tell.

Central Park precinct

said that there's no assault
that matches the MO.

There's no open rapes.

Animal control is reaching
out to vets and shelters.

Pretty brazen
for broad daylight.

I mean,
with this much rage,

maybe the perp
did it before.

We should check MOs
on assaults on older women.

I'll get a citywide run.

You two,
go back to the park,

take as much help
as you need.

Joggers have routines.
Maybe somebody knew her.

That was the pet police.

Pooch was brought to a vet
with bloody paws.

Joggers found him
in the park, all bloody.

Thought he was hurt,
brought him here.

And you washed the blood off?

Only way to see
if he was injured.

Any ID?

Nothing.

No tattoo, no microchip.
Microchip?

Implanted subcutaneously,

programmed with the owner's
name and phone number.

Stray comes in,
we scan for them first thing.

Blood's gone,
so is our evidence.

Sorry,

but I kept this.

Had it in his mouth
when he came in.

Dogs love shoes.

It's 'cause it's got
your mommy's scent on it, huh?

It's the right sneaker
from her shorter leg.

That's why she needed this.

Orthodic insert,
kept everything evened out.

Manufactured by Ortho-Walk.

We're gonna take the shoe
and the dog. Thanks.

It's our work, all right.
Where did you get it?

Off the foot of an
unidentified murder victim.

Do you know
who you made it for?

It's easy to find out.

Each one has a serial number.
Let's see, number AV-0419.

I told you, you should've left
that mutt in the car.

Do you know how many dogs
die in locked cars every year?

You know how many cops shoot their
partner and get off on a justifiable?

Oh, dear,
it belongs to Dr. Esterman.

Doctor? Works for the Department of Health.

This our witness?

First time
I ever printed a dog.

Paw print is a match to the
one on the victim's body.

What's with the swab?

Dog broke loose, maybe chased
the perp and got a piece of him.

I'll run everything
through Serology,

check for human DNA,

but it looks like Fido there
got a good bath.

Victim's Greta Esterman,
a public health doctor.

She lives at
3 West 89th Street.

Got a next of kin?

Husband's name is Arthur,
some kind of society lawyer.

Okay, we'll
make notification.

Elliot, aren't you
forgetting someone?

I never should've let
Greta go out alone.

Mr. Esterman,
we have to ask you this.

Where were you
this morning?

I didn't leave the house
until 9:00 to play tennis.

Weren't you worried when
your wife didn't come home

from the park?

Since I retired
from my law firm,

I've found a new vice,
sleeping late.

Greta always dresses
in the other room,

so she doesn't wake me.

And the dog?

She often takes
Buddy to work.

It's 10:00 right now.

You weren't worried
what might've happened to her?

Greta's been
working late recently.

I didn't think
anything about it.

What kind of work did she do?

She treated people
with HIV.

Greta traced the source
of exposure patterns.

Some people thought her work
violated their privacy.

Probably made some enemies.

The nature
of the attack suggests

the killer may
have known your wife.

Anyone have
a vendetta against her,

or make any threats?

Occasionally, over the years.

But last month, she got
a threatening phone call.

I heard the man's voice.

He called on your home phone?

No. No, Greta's office.

I was waiting to take her
to lunch when the phone rang.

I thought it might be Greta,
so I answered.

The guy was a lunatic,

said she'd ruined his life,
so he was going to ruin hers.

She got a lot of nasty calls. Hate mail, too.

Contact tracers are about
as popular as repo men.

When you inform people
they've been exposed to HIV,

they want to know by whom.

We can't tell them, so
things can get pretty heated.

Anyone ever go beyond threats? Get physical?

Nasty incident last year.

Guy set his pit bull
on one of our tracers.

Didn't stop Greta.
She was dedicated.

She just gave her staff
pepper spray.

Here's her office.

Commissioner, we're gonna
need a list of the cases

where there were any
threats of violence.

I wanna help,

but the names of AIDS
patients are confidential.

So, how about the hate mail?

That's not private,
it's evidence.

I've got all her personal papers right here.

I'll also give you
her phone log.

Greta installed
caller ID last year,

noted everything.

Ever have these threats
checked out?

I wanted to,
but Greta talked me out of it.

She said
anger's a normal response,

they'd move on to acceptance.

Estermans were quite
the social couple.

Fire and Ice Ball
for breast cancer,

black-tie fundraiser
for the city blood bank.

They donated 20 grand,

they each gave a pint of blood
to kick off the drive.

Last month, the AIDS activists threw pig's
blood on her, protesting her policies.

How about this? "Snoopy
bitch doctor, you die. "

Hey, Esterman's story
check out?

Neighbor saw him leave
just after 9:00,

and he showed up
to his tennis game on time.

Find anything?

Yeah, lots of angry people.

She's trying to save lives,
and they hate her for it.

There's a fine line between the
right to privacy and prevention.

People have a right to know
if they've been exposed to HIV.

I just get
a little nervous

when the government
starts drawing up lists.

Please don't
get him started.

He goes off
on black helicopters,

and we'll be here all night.

This might be something.

A phone log,
three weeks ago,

"Anonymous male states

"that he will
copulate me to death. "

That's pretty much
what happened.

You got a caller ID?

Yeah, I do.
Roger Pomerantz.

So, she knew who called,
why didn't she turn him in?

You remember Greta's boss
said she was a true believer.

Maybe she saw this guy
as a patient, not a problem.

Maybe she wound up dead,
thinking like that.

We've got a winner. Roger
Pomerantz, former guest of the state.

Six years at Greenhaven
for sodomy one.

Released two months ago,

hasn't been checking in
with parole.

Guy makes threatening calls from
his home phone. What an idiot.

They didn't hire him
for his brains.

There he is.

Roger Pomerantz.

Hands where we can
see them. Now!

Coming your way!

Incoming.

Resisting's a parole
violation, Roger.

Bite me! We're gonna do a lot worse.

That's quite
a résumé you have.

Menacing, gun charges,
assault one...

Knifepoint stranger rape.

She was a hooker
who got pissed off

because I wouldn't pay her
for a lousy lay.

How's your
sex life, Rog?

Still have
to force women?

I just got married.
I get all I want.

She could use a good...

What?
I could use a good what?

She's a piece of work, huh?

You don't like women
with authority, do you?

No, I don't.

Like Greta Esterman?

That bitch got in my business.

Said she's gonna call my wife

and tell her
that I have gonorrhea.

So, you're stupid enough
to get the clap?

The law says that Dr. Esterman
had to tell her.

So you called up the doc to let her
know exactly how you felt, right?

I was just exercising my right for
freedom of speech. Is that a crime?

No, it isn't, but murder is.

Murder?

I didn't murder anyone!
You crazy!

Sit down! Where are you going with my table?

Sit down.

Dr. Esterman wound up dead,
just like you said she would.

I don't know jack
about that.

Relax. Relax. Relax now.

Come on. Let's just talk here, all right?

Where were you yesterday
morning around 7:00 a. M?

7:00 a. M?
Yeah. Relax.

It's my lucky day.

I was at the diner, eating
breakfast with the guys,

and then we all drove
to work together.

Pomerantz's alibi
checked out.

Verified how?

Waitress at the greasy spoon
he eats at every morning.

Usual breakfast,
usual lousy tip.

He left for Queens at 7:00.

Pomerantz and his two boys
clocked in at 8:00.

No time for a detour.

Captain Cragen?
Yes. Yes.

I'm Arthur Esterman.
My wife is Greta.

Yes. Yes. Of course.

What can we
do for you?

I told you
I never touched that old lady.

I should sue both of you
for false arrest.

Sweetheart, you were
never under arrest.

So let me go.

Murderer!

You forgot to call
your parole officer,

and he really
wants to see you.

Get that guy!

Come on, break them up!
I'll kill you!

I wanna press charges.

I wanna press charges.

Get in there.
Get in there!

Please, we're doing everything
we can, Mr. Esterman.

I want you to go home
and let us do our job.

I found something
that could help.

Take Mr. Esterman
to the lounge.

Forty years of marriage, I
don't know how to sleep alone.

I was just wandering
around the apartment.

I found my way
into Greta's study,

to be closer to her,
and then I remembered.

Greta brought work home
last week.

She was worried
about this case.

Any idea
what this means?

Greta said it had to do with a
terrible situation she had to stop.

She didn't tell you
what it was about?

Greta didn't talk much
about her work.

I guess this
won't do any good

if nobody can translate it.

We have someone who might
be able to help us out.

Took me most of the night,

but I figured out what Dr.
Esterman was working on.

Looks like a bunch
of circles and arrows.

Tell me about it. I've been seeing
circles and arrows all night.

What it is,
is a contact trace.

Each circle represents
a person with HIV,

connected to the partner
that gave it to them.

Greta was trying to identify

the common source
of infection.

So, you're saying that
all these cases are connected?

Greta thought so.

These people
all live in Little Italy,

but most of them
don't know each other.

You think she was looking
for an HIV positive guy

who had sex
with lots of partners.

And they, in turn,
had sex with other people,

and pretty soon, you got
dozens infected with HIV

all because of
that first guy.

We call him the nexus.

He's the center
of this mini-epidemic.

Sounds to me like a sociopath

who's not concerned with
how many people he infects.

Guys in St. Louis
and Jamestown

were prosecuted for that.

Right. They knew
they were infected with HIV,

but still had unprotected sex

without warning
their partners.

Well, if this nexus thought
Greta was close to IDing him,

that'd be a good motive
for murder.

Well, a couple
of Greta's death threats

came from pay phones
in Little Italy.

Let's pick up the
investigation where she left off

and maybe we'll get lucky.

Greta had a couple people
left to interview.

Here's the list.

Starts with a college student, Mike Andretti.

Mike, why didn't you wear
a condom? I'm Catholic.

My mom catches me with one, I'm dead.

Now I'm dead anyway.

That's not true.

There are new drugs,
people lead full lives.

I'm talking about if my mom ever finds out.

Who'd you sleep with?

This totally hot woman
from my friend's building.

She was all over me,

said her husband didn't know
what he was missing.

Is she the first sexual partner you ever had?

Yeah.

I swear.

We're gonna need her name.

You talk to her, the whole
neighborhood's gonna find out.

She might not
even know she's sick.

She looked fine.

Her name's Vincenza Agosto.

It's all that bastard
Joey's fault.

Who's Joey?

He'll be my dead husband
if I ever get my hands on him.

Where's Joey now?

With that stripper
he's been banging.

Does he know
you have HIV?

Lucky son of a bitch
didn't get it.

Man upstairs
has a sick sense of humor.

Who infected you?

Month before the wedding,
I cut Joey off.

You know,
wait till we're married,

save some energy
for the honeymoon.

Joey's, like,
"Sure, no problem. "

Yeah, it's 'cause
he had that slut on the side.

How'd you find out?

We get back
from Niagara Falls,

he's given me chlamydia.

I confront Joey about it,
he admits it.

I'm so pissed,
I figure I'll show him.

How many guys
did you sleep with?

Just that college kid, Mike.

He swears he got it
from you.

Who else?

This guy, Mario.
Bartender at a club.

No Mario ever worked here.

Mario tell you
to say that?

Hey, man, it's like
I told everybody else.

Who else
did you tell?

Nobody.

Did you tell her?

Oh, right, the doctor. She
wouldn't say what it was about.

I just figured it was some
kind of paternity thing.

Wrong.
Well, what's it about, then?

Health Department.

Looking for people
who spread HIV.

You mean AIDS?

You're pretty shook up for somebody
that doesn't know any Mario.

He quit working here
a couple weeks ago

after the doctor came around.

You and him share girls?

No, Mario, he's too far
out there for me, man.

This guy's into orgies,
threesomes, you know,

another girl, another guy,
anything to get off.

Then why you look
so spooked?

You and him shared needles.

Yeah, but not dope.
Image enhancers.

You mean steroids?
Yeah.

Now I'm gonna
have to get tested, right?

I'm really screwed
here, guys.

So is everybody
you ever slept with.

We're gonna
need a list.

Dr. Esterman
identified 47 cases

within five distinct clusters
before she was killed.

Find anything else?

We continued her trace and
we picked up 32 more cases.

The nexus
appears to be one man.

Enter Mario Molinari.

Twelve women, two men
connect directly to him.

The rest are sexual partners
of his sexual partners.

Promiscuous, sexually
indiscriminate and infected.

This one-man epidemic
have any priors?

Assault, rob one,
weapons possession,

and it was a knife.

Guy's from the neighborhood.

He has an apartment
on Hester Street.

Well, let's go find
Typhoid Mario.

Sure I know Mario,
who doesn't?

Popular guy, lot of girls
come looking for him.

You're not the first.

She one of them?

No. No, young girls, pretty.

Madonna, che bellissima.

Any idea
where Don Juan is now?

Sure, he's up
at St. Catherine's.

Let me guess,
he's an altar boy, too.

No, not the church,
the hospital.

Ambulance came for him.

Hey, he probably
wore himself out

with all that bada bing, huh?

We hear you're quite popular with the ladies.

Yeah, can I help it
if I'm a chick magnet?

Popular with
the fellows, too.

Now, who I sleep with
is none of your business.

Is that what
you told Dr. Esterman?

Nosy bitch.

Why does she care who I bang?

Maybe she's jealous,
she wants a piece of me, too.

All the ladies do.

I don't think they would
if they knew you had AIDS.

Dr. Esterman knew, right?

Is that why you killed her?

Doc got capped.

Hmm.

I'm crushed. Wish I'd seen it.

Did you?

Not from this bed.

That's private. Hey.

I can see why. In for
treatment of pneumocystis,

AIDS-related pneumonia.

Been in for six days. Not him.

You've been sick a long time,
haven't you, Casanova?

Some slut gave me the virus,
didn't give a damn.

Well, I don't give
a damn either.

And the law says
you can't tell anyone.

Don't have to.

You can't do that!

Wrong, you knew you had AIDS,
you had unprotected sex,

and you didn't warn
your partners.

That's a crime.

I'll charge Mario
with attempted murder,

reckless endangerment,

add statutory rape
for the underage girls.

And the victims
we didn't find?

Who warns them that
they've been exposed to HIV?

Same thing
happened upstate.

Health department went public,
posted flyers,

people came in
and got tested.

What's up?

Another body in the park.

Has the Central Park Stalker struck again?

We haven't established
a forensic connection

between the murders as of yet.

So you're ruling out
a serial killer?

Well, we're not
ruling anything out

until we finish gathering
all our evidence.

All right, there'll be
another briefing later.

Thank you very much.

I don't know
if she was raped,

but I think it was close
enough to your Jane Doe.

Who found her?
Mountie.

Shook him up
pretty bad.

Stabler and Benson,
Special Victims.

They got some
questions for you.

I've seen DOAs before,
but nothing like this.

You see anybody around?

No, this part of the park
doesn't get much traffic,

too wooded for the joggers
and dog walkers.

I just saw Mona
laying there.

You know the victim?

Mona Sidley. Recognized
her by her binoculars.

Not by her face?

She doesn't
have one anymore.

Blood's all Mona's, no fluids.

Found one foreign hair,
we'll test for DNA.

But outdoors, could be
random contamination.

Got any good news?

Similar knife,
based on the injury depth

and serration pattern.

Two bodies, three days.
He's on a rapid cycle.

May not be the same guy.

Same location,
victimology matches,

bodies stabbed and mutilated
in the same way.

Greta Esterman
was stabbed 37 times.

Mona Sidley, only six.

And Mona's facial injuries
aren't nearly as extensive.

He use
a tree branch again?

Vaginal wounds
had slivers of glass.

He probably used
a broken bottle.

Which he could've
found in the park,

like the tree branch
he used on Greta.

Seems like too many
similarities for a copycat.

Could've gotten the details
from the newspapers.

You held back
the tree branch,

this time
he didn't use one.

I'm just not sure
it's the same guy.

Same guy,
no doubt about it.

Walk us through it.

Right off the bat,
another yellow poncho.

New knife, with the same
plastic-bag trick

around the handles.

Tell us something
we don't know.

Same distinctive waffle tread at both scenes.

Matched it to a standard
hiking boot, size 10.

Follow the shoe again.

This case is a foot fetishist's wet dream.

See, a heavy log sole

not only makes impressions,
it traps dirt.

So what? You walk anywhere in the park,

your shoes are gonna
get mucked up.

Look, soil from the area
where Greta jogged.

High mica and schist contents,

normal for Central Park,
rare anywhere else.

A sample from where
Greta's body was dumped.

Heavy amount of pollen spores.

And this, this is soil
from the Sidley scene.

A special mix
of organic rich peat

only the
Parks Department uses.

We catch the guy,
we snag his shoes.

A match to all three samples
will be conclusive.

I can testify to that.

Same perp. End of story.

Okay, then explain
why our guy is losing passion

when brutality usually
escalates with serial killers.

Maybe he got interrupted.

Or he's gaining more
self-control with experience.

Practice makes perfect.

But the post-offense
behavior changed, too.

He drags Greta
into the bushes,

takes the time
to cover her up with leaves.

As angry as he was,
that could show compassion.

But he left Mona exposed.

That's crap.
He was hiding the body.

Okay, why didn't he
hide Mona?

Maybe he likes
the attention,

wants to be
on the front page again.

Same guy. Picks off defenseless, older women

that are usually alone.

Or there's a connection
between the two victims.

Both regulars in the park
every morning.

Both older women.

I don't know,
maybe they knew each other.

Mona lived alone,
she was never married.

Retired bookkeeper.

Haven't located any
of her friends yet.

We gotta talk
to Greta's friends.

That appointment book
in her office,

she had a standing lunch date
with a Bonnie Vernon.

Greta never mentioned
any friends

who were bird-watchers.

She ever say anything
about being followed?

No, and it's definitely
something she would've told me.

How long
had you known her?

Greta and I
were roommates at Radcliffe.

She met Arthur at Harvard.

They eloped
after graduation in '61.

They eloped, huh?
Why did they elope?

Her family
were against the marriage.

Greta came from old money.

They didn't think Arthur
could support her properly.

Well, it looks like
Arthur proved them wrong.

They seem to live pretty well.

On Greta's inheritance.

Arthur practiced
his tennis swing

more than he practiced law.

Happy marriage?
Perfect couple.

Affairs?
Oh, never.

Arthur's so old-fashioned, I
don't think his eyes even wander.

How about Greta?

A few months ago, she asked me
to run a credit report on a man.

Greta didn't say why,
but I did wonder.

You thought
Greta had a lover?

It had to be personal.

Greta had city investigators at
her disposal for her AIDS cases.

Do you remember a name?

Who could forget it?
Vartan Dadian.

I remember thinking
Greta had an Armenian admirer.

Are you implying
my wife was having an affair?

We're not jumping
to any conclusions.

I can't believe it.

Did anything seem different
about Greta recently?

The last few months,
she wasn't quite herself.

She seemed preoccupied,
but she said it was from work.

You said
she often worked late.

Any change in her routines?

Sometimes she worked
all night,

didn't come home.

Greta said bars and clubs
were a good place

to trace contacts.

Mr. Esterman, does the name
Vartan Dadian mean anything to you?

No, but if she had a boyfriend,
I doubt I'd know his name.

I thought we had
a perfect marriage.

I subpoenaed
Vartan Dadian's financials.

Upper East Side address,
banks at Hudson Trust.

Routine transactions,
pension checks go in,

rent and small
expenses go out.

There's not much
ready cash.

Right. But there's plenty
at another account

at West Side Bank.

Opened it up last year,

statements go to
a P. O. Box.

Those are some
big deposits,

looks like close to
20 grand a month

for the past year.

All wire transfers.

All from Greta Esterman's
personal account.

Well, she's supporting a man
with very expensive tastes.

Look at all these
debit card transactions.

Four star hotels,
top restaurants.

Greta's boy toy had himself
a good time on her money.

And she's not
his only girlfriend.

Mr. Dadian has a fondness
for expensive escorts.

Spent a small fortune
at Gold Coast Models.

We don't take walk-ins.

You need a referral
from a client.

We got a special pass.

Welcome to Gold Coast Models,
Angel speaking. Please hold.

Hey, stop! You can't go
in there. Sure, we can.

Darla, I got two cops
on their way in.

Come in, officers.

I have nothing to hide.
It's a legitimate business.

We provide social escorts
for executives.

Save the rap for vice.

We just want some information.

I wish all men
were so easy to satisfy.

Who's satisfying
Vartan Dadian?

Miss Kitty, on a daily basis.

Quite a collection
of ladies.

Which one of these lovelies
is Miss Kitty?

She's not up there.

Kitty retired last month.

Said Dadian
was gonna buy her a condo

and set her up
like a queen.

Where's Kitty living
the life of luxury?

Still waiting for payday.

I hear she's working the bar
at the Broadway Terrace Hotel.

What, is something wrong
with Vartan?

That's what
we'd like to know.

When's the last time
you saw him?

I'm not sure.

You better remember quick,

before we haul your sweet ass
down to the precinct.

You want to cuff me?
Drop the act.

Answer the question, when was
the last time you saw Vartan?

Two nights ago,
he took me to dinner.

Where'd you have dessert?

Upstairs in a hotel suite.

Spend the night?

No, that costs extra,
and he was a little short.

I went home,
he stayed and slept.

The poor man,
he was all worn out.

Yeah, I'm sure
he had nothing left to give.

Well, usually
he's like the Energizer Bunny,

just keeps going
and going and...

We get the picture.

Are we done?
I'm expecting someone.

Well, cancel it
'cause you're coming with us.

Am I under arrest?

Keep touching me,
you will be.

Sex crimes?

What on Earth
brings you to me?

Your name came up
in an investigation.

We're interested in some
dates you had recently.

I'm flattered.

Most people think
there's no sex after 60,

but I'm not seeing
anyone right now.

How could you
forget Kitty?

Now, I know
you've got the wrong guy.

I'm really not interested
in pussy cats.

An escort service,
Gold Coast Models?

They claim
you're a major client.

I've never heard
of them.

Your bank has.

My account's
not at West Side.

Have you had any problems

with credit card fraud
or identity theft?

No, but I will call my bank
in the morning.

Does the name Greta Esterman
mean anything to you?

That poor woman
in the park?

I read about her
in the papers.

How did my name come up?

There seems to have been
a grave misunderstanding.

Thank you.

Did you go to Harvard?

Yes, I got my acting start
at the Hasty Pudding.

What year did you graduate?

1961.

Hmm.

Is that a problem?

No.

We always meet
at four-star restaurants.

Vartan has very good taste.

Never would've guessed.
Where'd you go two nights ago?

Chez Marco.
I met him there at 9:00.

Do you want to know
what I ate?

I'm not touching that one.

What kind of mood
was Vartan in?

His usual charming self.

He's everything
a girl could want.

If the price is right.

Where did you go
after dinner?

Like I told you before,
back to the hotel.

If there's nothing else,
I'll be going now.

Stay awhile.

John.

A few too many guys in
this game went to Harvard.

Why don't you show her this and
ask her to pick out her playmate?

Great.
Thought you'd like it.

Before your
next appointment,

can you tell me if you
recognize any of these men?

Well, sure, that's my Vartan.

The night of his wife's death,

the grief-stricken husband
has a date with a prostitute?

No wonder he wasn't worried
about her coming home late.

He booked another one for
right after her funeral.

This Esterman is a class act.

So, either he killed her

because she found out
about the money,

or so he could live happily
ever after with Miss Kitty.

It's both. Those wire
transfers to Vartan Dadian?

Greta was in the bank
last week,

asking questions about them.

The money's
from Greta's account,

but every transaction
is authorized by Esterman.

Hard to believe
an AIDS doctor

would tolerate
his indiscretions,

much less pay
for his hookers.

Esterman didn't give her
much time to throw him out.

Greta went
to the bank on Friday,

and Monday morning,
we found her body.

Greta divorces Arthur,
he's broke.

She winds up dead.
He inherits everything.

It's still all circumstantial.

Arthur's gonna keep up
this poor, old widower routine

until we find
some hard evidence.

His hooker ID'd him,

that should be enough
for a search warrant.

Arthur's been making
some big transfers

into the bogus Dadian account
at West Side Bank.

That kind of cash would
get him quite a few dates

with Miss Kitty.

This guy had it all
planned out.

He gives us his wife's
phone threats.

He knew we'd go for it.

And then he murders
Mona Sidley

to make it look like a
serial killer did them both.

That is cold.

What the hell
is going on here?

Counselor.

Search warrant.

You think I killed Greta?
That's ridiculous.

Size 10.
And very dirty.

You should really take better
care of your stuff, Artie.

This is preposterous.

I loved my wife.

More than you love Miss Kitty?

Who?
"Who?"

Now, come on,
your little plaything.

Broadway terrace,
candles, champagne.

I don't know
what you're talking about.

Save it, Vartan.

Or is that just the name
that you use for the hookers?

The rock fragments
embedded in the soles,

electron microscope confirms
it's Central Park schist.

So he takes walks
in the park.

We need
more than that.

Ran the second sample
by a forensic palynologist.

Excuse me?

Pollen specialist.
So good with spores,

they can tell you which
side of the street to walk on

during allergy season.

Second sample
was loaded with pollen.

See, my buddy
extracted the signature,

typed the dominant
and secondary strains,

and several hundred
trace species were found...

Skip the science test.
Did it match?

Perfectly.

Boots were within a few yards
of the body and recently,

since pollen signatures change
with the growing cycle.

And what about
the last sample

from the
Sidley homicide?

Look for yourself.

Homicide scene on the left,
Esterman boots on the right.

I'm no scientist,
but they look the same.

Exactly.

Your footprints
match the boots.

Mine? Please, Detective.
They're a popular style.

It's obviously a coincidence.

"Coincidence. "

Well, then it must
also be a coincidence

that the dirt on your boots
matches both murder scenes.

Not at all.

I went there yesterday to lay
flowers, say a prayer for my wife

and for poor Miss Sidley.

Not to manufacture a
forensics alibi, of course.

You're wasting time
accusing me.

I loved my wife.

Well, you've got a pretty
sick way of showing it.

Fake names, secret accounts, call girls.

Once again,
you misjudge me, Detective.

I did those things
out of respect for Greta.

Respect? Come on.

After menopause, Greta lost
interest in sex. I didn't.

She only asked
that I be discreet,

hence the pseudonym.

So you expect us to believe

that Greta
didn't have a problem

with your high-risk
sexual activity?

We were married
over 40 years, Detective.

Other kinds of fidelity
matter far more.

Well, you know, if everything
that you're saying is true,

why don't you just give us
a DNA sample?

My DNA on my own wife's body means nothing.

I'd expect to see it there.

But not on Mona Sidley.

Found a hair.

We can get a court order.

You have nothing connecting
me to Mona Sidley.

You killed Mona Sidley
to distract us.

You're bootstrapping.

It's clear the same man
killed both women.

Your DNA on Sidley's body,
that'll prove it.

JFK and Martin Luther King
were both assassinated

by a lone gunman
with a long-range rifle.

Follow your line of reasoning,

and Lee Harvey Oswald
killed them both.

No judge will sign
a blood order.

He's defending
himself well.

We don't have enough to
force a sample from Esterman.

We need probable cause on Sidley
alone, it can't be cumulative.

Well, how about
the phony name?

Even if I was just charging
on his wife's death,

a judge would preclude
that as unduly prejudicial.

Then we arrest him
for identity theft.

Can't.

Esterman paid the bills,

so there was no intent
to defraud.

I'll be lucky if the judge
lets me use it as an alias.

Well, no blood sample,
no case.

Maybe Esterman already gave.

Fundraiser for the city
blood bank.

Your Honor,
if you allow this,

anyone who gives blood

could have their
rights trampled on.

The blood was obtained from its
lawful owner, the blood bank,

which chose not
to contest our subpoena.

Mr. Esterman
has no standing here.

What about my fundamental
right to privacy?

That expectation expired
when you donated the blood,

knowing full well
it would be tested.

For diseases, not DNA.

I respect your right
to privacy is paramount,

but your own actions
do diminish that argument.

She's using my
philanthropic activities

to justify an end-run
around the judicial system.

She knew full well

she didn't have grounds
for a blood order.

I couldn't compel a sample
from Mr. Esterman,

but there is no legal basis
to bar us from testing

what he gave away freely.

Agreed.
But I'm limiting the scope.

Your Honor,
the sample in question...

I'm sorry, Miss Cabot,

but I'm only
allowing you to test

for the same battery
of drugs and diseases

that the blood bank would.
No DNA.

Esterman's blood type's AB,
and he's free of any diseases.

So we're screwed.

You're not,
but your suspect is,

I'd say on a regular basis.

You know this
from the blood?

Tox screen
came back positive

for high levels
of Viagra and ecstasy.

Viagra, I understand
but ecstasy?

What's a guy Esterman's age
doing using a club drug?

To enhance
his sexual encounters.

Viagra gives you potency.

Ecstasy heightens sensation
and lowers inhibitions.

And in the quantity
he took them,

your guy would've had
a two-week hard-on.

He was in his own
private rave.

The ecstasy
is all we got.

Anything short
of a smoking gun,

Esterman walks
on both homicides.

So what? We collar him
'cause he likes to party.

Well, it's amazing
what drug dealers

know about their clients.

A guy using
this much ecstasy

gotta have
a steady supplier.

So we dump his phones.

Fin can reach out
to narcotics,

see if any
of the numbers ring a bell.

You Fin?

You the man
with the vitamin E?

For the right price.
Yeah.

It's all there.

All right, listen,
trail-mix all at once,

you're gonna need two women.

That's what my man
Vartan told me.

Hey, man, no names.

I gotta jet.
Stick around.

Now, you tell us
about Vartan,

we're gonna let
this one slide.

Or we can take you with us,
dealer's choice.

He's a steady customer.

How's he know you?

Dropped some off
for this chick, Kitty.

Vartan was partying with her,

liked to ride the E-train,
so we set up his own account.

Where?

He's got a love shack on 92nd Street.

Just dropped some off
a few hours ago.

You have no right!

Search warrant!

Which you violated when you
burst in without knocking.

Exigent circumstances.
We heard a woman moaning.

Are you all right?

I was until you
interrupted me.

You get dressed.
You, too, Counselor.

Your next date's
with a judge.

He didn't do anything.

You get hazardous duty pay
for sleeping with a killer?

What are you
talking about?

Don't say
another word, darling.

Didn't Arthur tell you he murdered
his wife and another woman?

Don't listen to them.

He would never kill anyone.

He taking you to Brazil?
Brazil?

Airline ticket,
one way, first class.

I don't see one
in here for you, Kitty.

Yours hasn't come yet.

It better come quick since
the ticket's for tomorrow.

I had to.
They were harassing me.

You know I love you.

You were going by yourself.

Kitty, did you use
a condom tonight?

No, I trusted the bastard.

You have no right to hold me
when I'm not under arrest.

Kitty gave us the DNA sample
you deposited.

You'll find it's a match
to the DNA

I left on poor Mona Sidley.

So, now you feel
sorry for her.

I'm sorry she had to die.

Is that a confession?

Do you know what it's like
to grow old, Detective?

Greta and I were married
for 40 years

when she
lost interest in sex.

So you turned to prostitutes.

That's how
I found Kitty.

When I couldn't
keep up with her,

she gave me Viagra
and ecstasy.

Made me feel
like I was 18 again.

I was hooked.

How did Greta find out?

From the bank.
She confronted me.

I told her everything.

Begged her to try the ecstasy,
rekindle our passion.

She looked at me like I was

an animal.

You had high-risk sex,

just like the people
that she had to trace.

I'm not like them.
I'm not infected.

She wanted to divorce you,
take away her money.

That's why you killed her.

A beautiful woman
like you

wouldn't give me a second
look if I wasn't rich.

What are you gonna do when
your wife turns you away?

You'd do exactly what I did.

You murdered
a complete stranger.

You mutilated your wife.
Nothing justifies that.

I was alive again
for the first time in years.

Greta tried to take it away.

I had to stop her.