Mr. Mercedes (2017–…): Season 3, Episode 9 - Crunch Time - full transcript

Previously on "Mr. Mercedes"...

Well, let's talk about
your living arrangements.

- You could live with me.
- Have you gone mad?

- I can't just abandon her.
- It's your man's girlfriends.

Alma Lane.

I found this in Rothstein's hate mail.

She's an artist.

I mean, there were versions
of me in some of his books.

- Who were you?
- I was Susan.

This book is not

on the school board's
approved reading list.



You and Jimmy Gold will get along.

I, uh, picked up the listing on
the old Bridgeton Jazz Club.

There's a bunch of shit in
there I want you to pick up.

I may have some materials.

There's somebody out there
looking for those books

who will kill to get them!

What about the manuscripts?

The kid's got 'em.

You get pickaxe.

You and me, I don't think we sustain.

If I continue to see him,
I might fall in love with him.

You can't break up with someone

'cause you're afraid
you might love them.

If you like this man, go be with him.



Our window is closing.
We need to grab the mother.

Marjorie? Oh, Jesus.

Petey, remember me?

And, of course, you
remember your mother.

Don't you fucking touch her!

We will be making a plan
for the book delivery

or it's mommy deadest.

Hi, this is Danielle.

Leave a message after the beep.

All right, look...

First, it's fucking cruel,
borderline inhumane,

not to at least let me know you're okay.

Second...

if I get wind that you're with
some other guy, you are dead.

You hear me? Him, too.

You're both dead.

And third, come on.

You can't do better than me, Danielle.

Women, you all say you want a good guy.

Somebody trustworthy and
dependable and sensitive

and all that crap, which
is total fucking bullshit.

Those are the assholes who
get cheated on or dumped.

You all want the bad
boy, and I am it, baby.

I'm good-looking, I'm unpredictable,

and I fuck good.

It's the goddamn triple crown!

You will come crawling back to me!

It's only a matter of
time, you piece of shit.

Fuck.

You see, we ought to nourish the reader,

even if it's only a little bit.

Stir his brain, move his heart.

Offer him some escape from
the oppressive monotony

of his, uh, pathetic own reality.

Give him something that he, uh,

could have only gotten from you.

Otherwise, what's the point
of being a writer at all?

A good book isn't something
to pass the time...

it should make your goddamn day.

Fuck, pick up, pick up,
pick up, pick up.

Ah.

Well...

seems we certainly got his attention.

I guess he loves you, huh?

Answer it.

Pick up, God damn it! Fuck.

No, we'll let him spend
the day worrying.

The thing about anxiety,

takes on a life of its own.

The mind begins to play tricks,

imagining all the bad
things that can happen.

Well, I don't need to tell you.

Tomorrow, he'll be desperate
to do whatever we tell him,

and he'll be sleep deprived.

What if he's called the police already

and they're tracking his phone?

You watch too much television.

We need to cut down on
his screen time, huh?

Enough, okay?

Nobody likes a whiner.
It's not attractive.

Oh, Jesus, Peter.

Peter, hey.

- He's got Mom.
- Yeah, I know, I know,

but who is he?

What is going on?

I found the Rothstein books in the car.

This guy, probably Rothstein's killer,

he knows I have the books.

He's looking to make a deal.

He'll release Mom in
exchange for the books.

Oh, fuck. Where are you?

I'm not gonna say where,
I don't want to...

Ah, Jesus, fuck, Peter! Come on, man!

Out of town, but don't ask me where.

He's probably looking at the house

hoping you'll lead him to me.

I'd give him the books,
but then he'll kill Mom.

I know, I know, they called here too.

- He did?
- Yeah, yeah.

He said if I... if I
reported her missing,

if I so much as even
talk to the police...

I'm so sorry, Dad.

I... I should have listened to you.

Look, buddy, part of me thinks

we need to call the police on this.

- No, no, no, no.
- Fuck, Pete, we need help!

This guy we're dealing
with, he killed Rothstein,

the bookstore owner.

As long as I have the books,

he'll need to keep Mom alive.

We have to come up with
some kind of a plan here,

otherwise, she is fucked.

She is gonna... they're gonna kill her.

- Somebody's here.
- What? Who?

- Stay by your phone.
- No, no, no, no!

No, don't answer the door.
It's probably him.

- Don't...
- I don't know, I don't know.

Just stay by your phone.
I'll call you back.

Boogers, get away.

Okay.

Uh, listen, I know it's early,
but something's come up.

- Can I come in for a second?
- It's, um...

it's not a good time, Bill.

It's kind of important.

Can it wait?

"Can it wait"?

Your son is missing.

Is he still missing?

Yes, he's missing.

- Are you all right?
- No, Bill, I'm not all right.

My son is missing. I'm a fucking wreck.

But whatever I might have, it can wait.

What do you have?

Okay.

This is Peter in the bookstore

where the owner was just found killed.

What are you saying?

You... you think he's a suspect in that?

I think exactly what you think:

that he went in there

to sell the stolen
Rothstein manuscripts.

Did he ever mention
Andrew Halliday to you?

No.

Can I get a cup of tea...

It's not a... not a good time, Bill.

I'm not feeling well and...

Is somebody here?

No, o-other than Marjorie, who's in bed.

She... she took a pill.

Why don't I come down
to your office, um,

later this morning, huh?

You don't seem yourself.

My son is missing, Bill.

What's going on, Tom?

It's not a good time.

Hey, Holly.

Something weird's going on
with Tom Saubers' house.

Should we call the police?

Uh, there's nothing really to report.

But you suspect something's up, right?

I know something's up.

You at the office?

Uh, no, I'm at home with Lou.

How's she doing?

Um, she's settling in.

All right, call Jerome.

Tell him get the hell into the office.

Got it.

I do not have a good feeling.

That was Bill.

Yeah? Was he talking about me?

My sphincter was itching.

We're gonna be worried
about you, Lou, you know?

I suggest you get used to it.

So I... I was thinking

that maybe I could help out
at the office a little bit.

You don't have to pay me or anything...

- Yeah.
- But I could, uh, you know...

it might help to occupy myself
while I, um, look for work.

- Totally, yeah.
- I could...

I could help with the computers,

spell Jerome some.

That'd be gre... sorry, one second.

Yeah, yeah, yeah, no. Totally, totally.

Hello?

This... this is Holly.

Holly Gibney.

Uh, excuse me?

Sorry, is this some kind of joke?

O-okay, I'll have to
call you back later.

Thank you.

Who was that? Was that Finkelstein?

No, it was not Finkelstein.

Yeah!

Morris, come on, come on! What...

- Oh, yes.
- Morris, what are you...

Ooh!

What the hell has gotten into you?

Morris!

Ow!

- The hell is that?
- You tell me!

What are you talking about?

What's wrong with you?

You were making love to her, not me.

You've been making love to
her ever since I told you.

- Told me what?
- Don't bullshit me, Morris.

You're fucking Susan.

The Susan in the book.

I'm fucking both of you.

You said she's you, so what
difference does it make?

It makes a big difference!

She was based on you!

It was your idea that
I fuck you this way

- in the first place!
- Once! Not always.

You're either all in with
me or you're not in at all.

You know what?

I can't keep track of all your insanity.

Somebody needs to invent an app.

Oh, for God's sake, did you take a pill?

- What?
- We're having a fight, for fuck's sake.

You're not even discouraged!

I did not take a pill.

Because you don't need to, do you?

No, you have her.
You have your little Susan.

Who is you!

I'm Susan to Rothstein, not to you.

Why does it make a difference?

Because it does!

Uh, the case is closed,
and according to probate,

you're the bequeathed.

- All right.
- I'm not sure I want it.

Oh, you can probably sell it on eBay

for some obscene amount of money.

Operative word being "obscene."

No, it still ranks as a collector.

You know, the low miles,
in pretty good shape.

Or we can, you know, haul it
off and have it crushed...

at your expense, of course...
but it... like I said,

it... it's worth something
to a collector.

Replace the windshield
and it's drivable.

Are you okay?

Yeah, I'm fine.

Where's Holly?

She said she had to go out.

She, uh, gave me some chores to do.

Thought I'd earn my keep a
little while I look for work.

I made you some coffee.

Thanks, good.

Hey, I've got something for you.

Gotta show you something.
It's important.

Remember him?

- Stan the man.
- Yeah.

Cops found DNA in the shop

and the getaway car

and none of it belonged to Stan.

But check this out.

ER reports from the guy who
showed up to the hospital

when the getaway car
crashed into that basin.

First and second page.

Nah, I can't read this shit.

Okay, it just says that
the guy at the ER's DNA

matches the DNA found in the shop

and the getaway car.

So...

I mean, the guy who did the
Rothstein job killed Stan.

Which we already figured.

Yes, yes, I'm not done.

The cops found DNA in the
Saubers' home last week...

I mean, saliva, prints, everything...

and it matches with the same guy.

- What?
- Yeah.

The killer was in the Saubers' house,

so, I mean, maybe Pete was involved.

Maybe they know each other.

Who is he?

Uh, I actually figured you'd ask,

so I have a theory.

Check this out.

Fans have been gathering for days

to share memories of a neighbor few met,

but somehow everyone
knew as an old friend.

All right...

Recognize him?

- He looks familiar.
- Yeah, as he should.

This is local coverage of the jobs fair.

I looked through these and found this.

_

- Carl Fenten.
- Mm-hmm.

- And this guy?
- Yep.

This is Fenton's yearbook.

Right there.

Yeah, that's him.

_

Morris Bellamy, I remember him now.

I met him in court during Lou's case.

He thanked me for my service.

Huh.

Now check out his yearbook quotes.

"Live fast, die young,
leave a pretty corpse."

Shout-outs: John, Jimmy,
PJ Tobin, and Squee.

Okay, so PJ Tobin was
a stoner friend of his,

died about six years
ago from an overdose.

Fenton's nickname was "Squee."

John and Jimmy?

Rothstein and Gold.

"Live fast, die young,
leave a pretty corpse."

- That's a Jimmy Gold line.
- Yep,

and you said it yourself:

you don't believe in coincidences.

The cops onto this?

Not that I know of. They have the DNA,

but they don't have a name

or any clues beyond that.

"Senior thanks: to "IS"
for saving my life."

What the fuck is "IS"?

Well, it could either
be a verb or initials,

and I did my research.

Guess who his lit teacher was?

No idea.

Okay, well, let's just narrow it down

in the pool of next-door neighbors

who wanted to have sex with you.

Ida Silver.

Mm-hmm.

Fuck.

I mean, how much smaller
can our world get?

Come on.

Morris Bellamy.

Do you remember him?

Uh, oh, yeah.

He... he was troubled,
he was a bit at risk.

Uh, the word was he had
been sexually abused

and then... and then later,
uh, there was rumblings

about him getting ensnared
with some local older woman...

much, much older.

This is when he's still in high school.

An older woman?

Yeah.

Wasn't you, was it?

Well...

- "IS"...
- Yeah.

- Ida Silver, right?
- I know, it was, it was.

Yeah, it was sort of...

it was sort of a nickname for me.

Um, a sign of respect, really,

which is kind of extraordinary

coming from a kid who
didn't show respect

for anyone or anything.

He didn't do any of his assignments,

he was skipping classes,

he was snotty to all the teachers,

and I... I was pretty rough on him.

I remember I... I tried to reach him.

I gave him a book that I thought he...

What?

I gave him "The Runner."

And what age was he at this time?

13, 14?

Yeah, it was... yeah,
something like that.

Of course, it, you know...

My God, it wasn't approved material,

so I... I sort of slipped
it to him on the sly,

which, I suppose, made it
even more attractive to him.

Like the forbidden fruit.

Yeah, you had a real teacher moment.

A lasting impression.

So...

am I to understand that the...

that the boy I turned on to "The Runner"

ended up murdering John Rothstein?

Could be.

Oh, my God.

God...

This older woman...

wasn't Alma Lane, was it,

by any chance?

Oh, no, I... I never...

I never heard who it was.

I wonder.

Okay.

When I take the duct tape off...

it would be a mistake for you to scream.

Do you hear me?

You see this man?

He screamed.

This is how that worked out.

Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah, I can be violent.

Mm-hmm.

I can also be sick.

This little piggy went to market,

but this little piggy stayed home.

I show you this not to gloat...

okay, maybe I do...

but rather to impress upon you,

if you hadn't already gathered:

your life is in grave danger

should your son not come through.

I'm dialing him now.

I'm gonna give you two
seconds to talk to him

and only two.

I suggest you make the most of the time.

You're on.

Peter?

Please help me. Please.

Don't you touch her.
Don't you fucking touch her.

What I hear is a punk kid.

What I want to hear

is when I get my manuscripts back.

I'll give you one page
of the manuscripts,

- but in return...
- This is not a fucking negotiation!

Actually, it is, okay?

We both have something
the other one wants,

which means it is a fucking negotiation.

It's your fucking mom, shithead.

We're gonna cut her fucking head off!

You can't!

Trust me, I can.

Okay.

Let's meet, then we can make a plan.

Any police show up...

if I so much as smell a cop car...

your mother is dead,
you fucking little shit.

Say "please," mommy.

Say it.

Please.

Please, Petey, please.

Holly.

Hello.

Hey! You want a Hot Pocket?

No, thanks.

There's a car parked out there.

There is.

Do you want to explain how it got there?

It's mine. I inherited it, so...

Could I see you in my office, please?

What's going on?

Should I not take it,

the police were going to auction it off,

which means that some awful
person was gonna buy it,

turn around, sell it on eBay

for God knows how much,

profiting off the murder
of innocent people,

which is not an acceptable result.

Well, what do you plan to do with it?

- I plan to drive it.
- You what?

Brady was the evil one, not the car.

How's Lou going to deal with that?

It was used to kill people, Holly.

- Yes, I know that, but...
- But what?

But... but it was Ollie's
most prized possession.

My Aunt Janey and my mom

both said that she got
esteem from it, even, okay?

To own a Mercedes.

Its legacy should be that
Ollie drove it, not Brady.

The legacy of that car is what it is!

It was a murder weapon

in a mass killing!

- Yes.
- You can't change that.

Add to that, Brady used the car

- to destroy Olivia in the end!
- I certainly remember that.

- He taunted her...
- I said I remember!

I know.

Ollie would have wanted me to drive it.

You know, she always used to
call it "glorious," you know?

"Let me take you for a
ride in my glorious car."

I need to restore its glory.

? Glory be to God, the Father ?

? Glory be to God, the Son ?

? Glory be to God, the Spirit ?

? Great Jehovah three in one ?

? Glory, glory ?

? Glory, glory ?

? While eternal ages run ?

? Glory be to Him who loved us ?

Okay, where are they?

? Washed us from each spot and stain ?

? Glory be to Him who bought us ?

? Made us kings with Him to reign ?

You don't get them until
you release my mother.

I will fucking kill you right
now, you little pissant.

Kill me and you don't get Rothstein.

I don't think you get the
severity of this situation.

I'm gonna rip your mother's
fucking head right off,

then I'm gonna go get your gimpy dad.

I'm gonna cut his balls off
and feed him to your...

Shut the fuck up.

I shot you once, I'll do it again.

- I swear to God...
- I said shut up.

? Glory be to Him who bought us ?

? Made us kings with Him to reign ?

You get this.

One notebook.

? Glory, glory ?

I want them all.

Not until my mother's released.

That'll show you it's Jimmy Gold.

You release my mother, you get the rest.

That wasn't our fucking deal.

I swear to God, your mother is dead.

I already snapped your picture

and sent them to a few sources.

Hurt my mother

and the cops are all over you.

You think I believe that?

I snapped a few when we were FaceTiming.

Nice close-ups, great
for facial recognition.

? Glory, glory ?

This is how desperate you are
to get those manuscripts.

You're making stupid mistakes.

I'm not in this alone,
there are other people.

This is bigger than me.
It's way bigger than you.

So you keep saying.

Read that... you'll know it's real...

then we'll make the swap.

? Power dominion ?

? Thus its praise creation brings ?

? Glory, glory ?

? Glory, glory ?

? Glory to the King of Kings ?

He just walked out?

- He's buying time.
- Why didn't you stop him?

What was I supposed to do,
kill him during choir practice?

Time is not on our side, Morris.

He wants to make a deal.

It's not like he's North Korea, okay?

But it's gotta be a
straight-up exchange,

which, if he's tipping off
the police or the FBI...

Shh!

Let's arrange the meet.

We'll put mommy dearest in the truck.

We'll wire up a vest with
a bomb or something...

at least pretend to.

Hang that over his head...

that if we don't make a clean
getaway after the exchange,

we detonate her just like that
bank robbery in Pennsylvania.

We can make this work, Morris,
but we gotta make it work fast.

I know nothing about explosives.

Doesn't have to be a real bomb,

we just need to fool her and him.

A threat that's real enough to
guarantee our safe passage.

But first thing's first.

Oh, my God.

- Oh, can I read it first?
- We'll read it together.

I'm almost afraid.

What if he killed Jimmy or made him gay

- or a fucking Democrat or...
- He wouldn't do any of that.

Honest to God, I'm suddenly terrified.

- What if it stinks?
- He's John Rothstein.

Even on his bad days,
he beats everyone else.

God, oh!

Right, your job here will be
just wait outside the building.

If anybody rolls up
that looks like him...

stick that on vibrate for me, would you?

Don't you think you need
some backup on the inside?

Nah, I'll be fine.

Or maybe we should
get the police in on it.

Yeah, maybe.

I'll know more once I take a look.

Okay.

Okay, which unit is it?

2A.

Oh, fuck me up the ass.

With a finger.

You want me to get that?

I do not. We don't answer
everyone's phone calls here.

Is it Finkelstein's call that
we're not answering now?

He could be calling for me.

I could just, like, pick it up and...

- No, it's okay. Thank you, though.
- Okay.

It would be an obstruction
of justice not to tell them.

Oh, so you quit Harvard
Law School now, as well,

did you?

Look, you'd be funny if
it wasn't dangerous, Bill.

Well, it's more dangerous

to tell the police what we know now.

The law of unintended consequences,

- you ever hear of that?
- Wait, what's going on?

We got a lead, and a good one,

on the man who killed Rothstein.

If you intend driving that car,

that's up to yourself, okay?

But I don't want it parked in my space.

It's not your parking space,
it's our parking space,

and I'm entitled to park

- there if I want.
- It's obscene, Holly.

Can you not see that?

It's got the stink of Brady all over it.

Fuck, what's wrong with you?

You know, he did give you something.

Beg your pardon?

I mean, no offense,

but you were kind of
dying in retirement.

"Becoming a fat alcoholic."

Those were your words.

No, they weren't.

I never said that to you

or to anybody.

Were they Brady's words?

I'm just saying,

he kind of brought you back to life.

Brady?

Yeah.

When he taunted you, you...
you suddenly became, like...

Don Quixote in search
of an evil windmill.

He gave you purpose.

He also might have given
you a sense of family...

In some weird sort of

law of unintended
consequences kind of way.

How so?

Never mind.

No, no, no, I want to hear this.

Okay, your relationship
with Jerome deepened,

you met Holly, even me.

All of that might have
triggered something

inside of you where you said,

"I need family to survive."

Now you're a changed man.

Brady helped affect that change.

I know that we all hate him here,

but I'm just saying, maybe we should be

a little bit mindful of what he gave us.

I don't see it that way, Lou.

Okay, your problem is that
everything has to make sense,

and it doesn't always.

You know, it probably doesn't make sense

that I want that car,
but it just feels right.

Not everything make sense.

Well, what makes the
least sense to me...

and is the most horrifying to boot...

is how she keeps channeling Brady.

You do not do his bidding in here.

You get me, Lou?

That is not what I'm doing.

Bad enough having his
fucking car in my space.

Lovely fella, really, wasn't he?

For a mass murderer.

Skinny cunt. He was a fucking butcher!

For fuck's sake!

Give me a fucking break!

"Jimmy tossed the empty
bottle into the abyss,

"then held his breath
until he heard it shatter

sharp on the sidewalk below."

"Then he scanned the dark city,

"deep in its death throes,

"and thought about Susan.

"Her smell, her sex,

"her strength.

"She was out there,
somewhere and everywhere,

"in the city's insistent need,

"in the thrum

"of its unruly heart.

"Her love more powerful
than any he had ever known,

"the thought of it making him shiver

"despite the August night's heat.

"She was the first
appreciable proof of God

"he had ever seen,

"the only real and true
beauty he had ever known,

and he hated himself for
not being worthy of it."

I knew it.

He never stopped.

What?

That's me he's talking about.

The man never stopped loving me.

I knew it.

I'm sorry.

That's okay.

Do you want to fuck or something?

"Do I want to fuck or something?"

Yeah.

Don't be reading any
more until I get back.

Marjorie, you'd better
not be eavesdropping.

- I told you to go away!
- Yeah, and I'm not going.

I either come to you or I
go straight to the police.

Fuck.

Who is that?

My associate.

You are making a bad situation worse

- by being here, Bill.
- Yeah, well, I'm not leaving

- till I get some information.
- Oh, Jesus.

Where's Marjorie?

She's out. She's getting her hair done

- or something, I don't know.
- Her hair?

What's she doing, her fucking roots?

Somebody's got her.

Tom.

I need to have

a completely confidential
conversation with you.

I'm not sure I can promise you that.

Then you need to get the fuck out.

I'm done talking, leave.

What if I don't?

What, you'll call the police, will you?

All right.

Confidential, you've got my word.

They got her.

- Who?
- I don't know.

They came in here and
they fucking grabbed her.

I got a phone call.

Fuck.

Peter does have the manuscripts.

They said they wanted
to make an exchange...

Marjorie for the books...

but I don't know where Peter is,

I don't know where the books are,

I don't know where Marjorie is.

All I know is that I believe them

when they say they
are going to kill her.

Have you talked to Peter?

Yeah, we've been in contact.

He's formulating a plan right now.

Jesus, listen,

- the FBI and the police...
- No, no.

They've got more experience
with this sort of thing...

No, no, no, absolutely
fucking not, Bill!

They were very clear about this!

We call the police, they kill her!

You need to listen to reason.

The police can't necessarily
make good on their promises.

The people who have Marjorie,

they can.

Mmm, you have not lived

until you've tasted Alma's stew.

Come on, come on, Marjorie,
you gotta eat up.

This little exchange may
include a rigorous walk.

That a girl, we need to
keep your strength up.

I don't believe you.

I think you're gonna kill me.

That isn't true, Marjorie.

I, of course, would kill you...
it's not beneath me...

but it's not my plan.

Come on...

- That a girl. Ooh.
- Mm.

Why would you let me live?

I've seen your face,

I know what you've done.

Well, once we get those books,

we plan to get long out of Dodge.

We'll be far away in a different country

with a lot of money.
Out of reach, out of touch.

I don't get this.

You struck me as a person
with a compassionate core.

Kind, even.

Look...

Life and people are kind
of like really good books.

There are chapters, you know?

I've had many wonderful chapters.

You just caught me during a bad one.

- You've got a visitor.
- Excuse me?

That private detective,
Hodges, he just showed up.

- Help! No!
- Get her in the bathroom.

Not a fucking word.

- Come on, Morris, move!
- Stand up.

Stand the fuck up.
Come on, come with me.

Okay, sit tight.

Alma.

Oh, my God, as I live and breathe.

Long time.

I've been seeing you on the news.

You're like a celebrity,
Mr. Mercedes and all.

- Testifying in that girl's trial.
- Mm-hmm.

- You look well.
- As do you.

Don't tell me...

that little offer I made 35 years ago,

you're here to take me up on it, huh?

Not quite, no.

Come in, come in.

Not exactly a social call, Alma.

You heard John Rothstein was murdered.

I don't live under a rock.

No.

Well, we've been turning
over quite a few rocks,

truth be told, since he was killed.

You remember this?

Mm, one of my favorites.

Not exactly Norman Rockwell,

but it's the thought that counts, hmm?

"Gathering nuts for the winter."

You hated him pretty good.

You have no idea.

Am I a suspect?

'Cause I've always wanted to be famous.

Come on, let me get you a beer.

It's not like I bite or anything.

I gave that up.

Come on, Bill, beer time.

Don't you make a fucking sound.

You're not really here
to talk about Rothstein

and whether I killed him, are you?

No.

I've come to talk about
somebody else, actually.

Morris Bellamy.

Who?

Mm, now, that surprises me.
Word on the street has it

that you and he had a
romantic entanglement

going right back to when
he was a teenager...

Where'd you hear that?

And that it's been going on some since.

No?

Somebody Tweet that?

I don't know, I don't read
that fucking blather.

Morris loved Rothstein from
a literary standpoint.

You loved Rothstein and Morris
from a biblical standpoint.

You know what I remember about you?

You don't believe in coincidence.

Is he here, Bellamy?

He is not.

He's been seen around here recently.

He comes and goes.

Know where I might find him now?

- I don't know.
- Alma...

Tell you what I do know, though.

He's not here now and you are.

Window of long-overdue opportunity.

- Please.
- Oh, come on, Bill.

May be 30-plus years,
but a woman remembers

a certain look she gets from a man,

and I remember that look
that you gave me that night.

I could have bartered my
way out of that arrest,

couldn't I, hmm?

How much rigor you got in you now?

I'm here on a serious
matter, Alma, okay?

This Morris character could be
involved in some serious shit.

- What, killing Rothstein?
- It's possible.

Mm, I doubt it.

Morris is a lover.

I'd say you've seen all you could see

without a warrant, Bill,

but, hell, go ahead, look around.

Everything's free here.

I don't need a warrant.
I'm not a cop anymore.

Private citizen.

So it's not like you're
on duty or anything.

Tempting though the offer
is, I've got to be going.

- Take care, Alma.
- You, too.

You get turned around there, Bill?

- What's in the shed?
- Personal papers.

Actually, a private chapel

where I pray and hold Bible classes.

It's my private space.

Sounds spiritual. Mind if I take a look?

Sure, but you gotta take
your clothes off first.

My faith requires that we
enter the holy of holies

as we entered this world.

Maybe I'll convert it into
an art studio one day.

Or a man cave.

You could be a charter
member in Alma's man cave.

But until that time, Bill,

you've gotta strip.

Please.

Rain check.

Let me know if you hear from Bellamy.

Do come back, Bill.

- Anything?
- In that fucking shed.

Yeah, I did some looking
around the yard.

I didn't find anything.

So then we give the
devil her due for now,

come back later tonight
when she's asleep.

- What did he want?
- He was asking about you.

- Excuse me?
- By name.

What? That little shit son of yours...

I don't think it's him.
It's nothing about her.

It was about Rothstein,
and you're in the crosshairs.

And if a private detective
has you pegged,

then so maybe have the police.

Though that one's smarter than the cops.

Well, how did you leave it?

I dodged and weaved,
but Bill Hodges is like a dog

with a bone, I'm telling you,

and he was looking hard at the shed.

We gotta set up that
fucking exchange ASAP,

get those books, and hit the trail.

What size suicide vest are you?
Do you know off-hand?

- Please...
- "Please"?

We don't give bonus points
around here for good manners.

In case you haven't noticed,

we have officially entered crunch time.

We are not fucking around.

Get Snow White back
into the shed, come on!

All right, come on, you know the way.

- You know the fucking way!
- Keep your fucking mouth shut.

God damn it!

- Then let me join you!
- No, it's too dangerous.

- God's sake, Pete.
- I said no!

I'm... I'm just barely
hanging on, here, Dad.

That's why I should be there with you.

I wish you could,

but it's a good thing
that we're not together.

It gives us protection, okay?
He could get us both.

Listen, that private detective,

he is on to all of this.

- What?
- He has been here twice, Peter.

Your mother wasn't here,
he was gonna go to the cops.

I... I bought us time,

but I had to come clean.

- What?
- I had to make a decision, Pete!

He's not gonna go forward

with anything that he knows, all right?

Not yet.

Pete, I think we need to bring him in

on the planning of
this whole swap thing.

No, no, no, no, it'll blow up!

Peter, we are in over our heads.

There's a desperation to this guy, Dad.

I don't like it, okay?

I don't want to be bringing in

any private detective or police.

I can work this out, Dad.

I can get her back.

She's reading the book.

That's what's taking her so long.

She's reading the rest
of the book without me.

Ugh, that cunt.

Do you want to know what happens?

I read all the manuscripts,
I know how it ends.

You're lying.

They were in Peter's closet.
I've read them all.

I looked in his closet.

They were there until you scared him,

and then he moved them someplace else.

I read them.

I can tell you how the journey ends.

It's not advertising.

But first, you have to let
me go to the bathroom.

You wanna go to the bathroom,
go. Nobody's stopping you.

Please.

Just untie me.

I'm afraid my hands

don't have any circulation in them.

I'm not fucking untying you.

I will tell you how...
how the series ends.

You'll know before Alma, okay?

She's only got a small portion.

I don't believe you.
You didn't read them.

I did!

Okay, you read the part...

What he said to Susan

about her love being more powerful

than the thrum of his unruly heart.

Any woman who read
that would remember it.

You haven't read dick.

Her smell...

Her sex...

Shivering and shit, even in August.

My fucking thrum is on
fire and it's wintertime.

Ugh.

What the fuck?

We need to talk about John Rothstein.

Oh, my fucking God.

Shut up!

I said shut up!

I had to, all right?

He was so fucking ass over tea kettle

with that little twat.

If anybody should be screaming, it's me!

I liked Morris. You
didn't even know him!

You're a wimp, Marjorie, you know that?

You need to grow a fucking pair.

Acting like you've
never seen a grown man

hit on the head before.

How...

could... you?