The Mysteries of Laura (2014–2016): Season 2, Episode 5 - The Mystery of the Watery Grave - full transcript
Laura and her team unravel a dark secret from a past case while investigating the death of the wife of a national media baron.
911 operator.
What's the nature of your call?
- Help! Someone's trying to run me off the road.
Ma'am, what is your location?
I'm on the West
Side highway. Please hurry!
Stay calm. We're tracking your position.
Police are en route. Can
you pullover somewhere safe?
- He's going kill me. Please.
Ma'am? Are you there?
They're going kill me!
Sounds like road rage gone extreme.
Motorcycle in the background.
Could be bikers just ran
our vic off the road.
No tire tracks? No skid marks?
Happens all the time.
Drivers panic and floor the
gas instead of the brake,
end up with this.
But, detectives, what does the name,
Terrence Van Doren mean to you?
Van Doren, publisher of The New York Ledger.
- Right?
- That's the one.
Hedge fund hero got bored making billions.
Bought a third string tabloid
on the verge of bankruptcy.
Turned it profitable.
Vehicle is registered to him.
Purse inside, not so much.
The car owner is either messier than me,
or New Yorkers are using the
river as their garbage can.
No car owner is messier than you.
Uh-huh. Thank you.
Oh, what have we got.
No phone.
Probably at the bottom of the river.
Ah.
Isabel Van Doren.
Presumably the rich guy's wife
and our 911 caller.
Now we know that the lead story
is in tomorrow's Ledger, huh?
More likely in the obituaries.
Looks like hair and scalp in the windshield.
We got divers searching,
but in these currents the body
could have easily drifted.
I am guessing DNA will
confirm Isabel as our driver.
I left for work at 4:00 a.m.
I didn't even kiss her goodbye.
Mr. Van Doren, why was
Isabel on the road so early?
I don't know, um...
Erin? This is Erin James.
Isabel's personal assistant.
Isabel had a board meeting in the city
at the family's charity foundation.
We support a lot of
programs for at-risk youth
and women's rights, the arts.
Thank you, Erin.
Uh, I'd like a moment with the detectives.
Do you have any leads on the car
that ran Isabel off the road?
Nothing solid.
Although it does appear that
a motorcycle was involved.
A motorcycle?
- This wasn't an accident.
- What makes you say that?
Two weeks ago The Ledger ran an expose
on motorcycle flash mobs.
Gangs, usually.
They run illegal high-speed
races in the city streets.
One of my reporters
embedded to get the story,
and after it ran, I got death-threats.
Why would they target Isabel?
She was driving your car.
It was dark.
They may have thought it
was you behind the wheel.
Oh!
Oh, God! Her car was in the shop,
and I told her to take my SUV.
This isn't happening.
We will need access to that reporter.
Of course, I...
I can have my staff connect you.
You just find who did this.
Please.
You went to Terrence Van
Doren's house without me?
I demand intel on this, square
footage and the decor.
- Go!
- Obsessed much?
Oh, yeah. Only since his house was
featured on Architecture and Decor.
When I was 15, the other boys
had their dirty magazines,
and I had mine.
Oh! BTWs, The Ledger reporter
sent over all of his research
on the motorcycle flash mobs.
Meredith hit on something.
Not your old-school Hell's Angels.
These guys are desk-jockeys, dentists,
techies working out their agression.
It's like cosplay for wannabe bikers.
More like Fight Club on wheels.
And just as secretive.
Meet-ups are posted to Snapchat,
messages last for 10
seconds then auto-delete.
There's a ride today in Queens.
Perfect chance for me to
blow-out the pipes on my Harley.
Hey, slow down easier rider.
You're still recovering.
You are not going anywhere near your Harley.
No, I can still ride.
We're talking crotch-rockets not fat boys.
And I can bet a pay check,
I look better in leathers.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Nice ride. What is it? 1200ccs?
More than you can handle.
Who do you ride with?
Whoever can keep up with me.
Whoo.
Trailing units, keep
yourselves under the radar.
Bose, nice and easy.
Just back-off, blend in.
Copy that, Dad.
Whoa!
What the hell, man?
Wow! Speaking of dads,
that Flanders over there, just
got himself in some hot water.
Hey, look where you're
going. Get out of my way.
Yeah. We got a situation.
Hey!
So much for blending.
It's all right.
We got you covered.
Let's calm this down.
- Or not.
- NYPD!
You're going down, idiot.
I know, I was all jacked up on adrenaline
and I lost control.
According to The Ledger, that's standard
operating procedure for you and your crew.
- That article was just mean and...
- So you sent
death-threats to Terrence Van Doren
and then ran his car into the Hudson
with Isabel Van Doren inside.
I was in bed with my wife
when that crash happened.
- You can ask her.
- We will.
Maybe one of your biker buddies
wanted some highway justice, huh?
They all did, but not with violence.
- Then how?
- Legally.
We filed a $10 million liable lawsuit
against Van Doren and his paper.
It does put motive into question.
The lawsuit is legit, too.
My buddy at Columbia Journalism
thinks that these guys
will win pay out from The Ledger.
Which means attacking Van Doren
would only ruin their case.
So who else would have a motive?
Crew of weekend bikers
can't be the only people
The Ledger's pissed off.
Van Doren's a real crusader.
He's gone after hate groups, slum-lords,
even poor, defenseless plastic bags.
Ralph Nader with his own tabloid.
Anyone of his enemies
could've run Isabel off the road,
knowing that the bikers were
low-hanging fruit as suspects.
I don't hate that theory.
I'm touched.
The bikers are facing assault charges,
so they're not going anywhere.
Meantime, find out who else
has stopped sending Van
Doren Christmas cards.
We'll hit The Ledger.
I... Ah, you will hit The Ledger solo.
Wait, wait. Hold on.
I know how to handle Van Doren.
- Kid gloves...
- Santiani speak, Diamond listen.
Your kid gloves have a
nasty habit of slipping off
and leaving fingerprints all over
messes that I have to clean up.
I want my squad on Van Doren's good side,
and off the front page.
Roger that. Right?
Of course.
Right.
Good morning.
Detective. Is there news?
Uh, I'm sorry. Nothing yet.
We just had a few follow-up questions.
I was surprised when your office
said that you were coming in today.
Well, I had to get out of the house.
I need to write Isabel's obituary.
She was an amazing woman.
She devoted her life to helping others.
And I want to give her the
tribute that she deserves.
We had heard that maybe you
weren't as well-loved as your wife.
It's true.
I run hard-hitting stories.
So death-threats have become
an occupational hazard.
You have records of all those threats?
- Beth, can you help him with this?
- Of course.
I need to get upstairs.
Thank you, Detective.
I have every piece of hate
mail digitally archived.
I can put them on a
flash-drive, message it over,
you'll have it in a hour.
You sure keep your hate
mail highly organized.
Well, we get quite a lot
I've been with Mr. Van Doren 14 years.
He's brilliant, but polarizing.
I can relate.
And I'm sure your files are impeccable,
but can you save me the reading time
and tell me who would
make the top of your list?
Probably Wilson Becker.
Mrs. Van Doren's brother.
We heard that Isabel didn't
have any living family.
Uh-uh, no. The first Mrs. Van Doren, Claire.
Her brother is a drunk.
He ties one on and sends
the nastiest emails.
What's his issue with your boss?
His sister drowned, and
he's never gotten over it.
He blames Mr. Van Doren.
Don't believe a word that bastard says.
Van Doren murdered my sister.
That accusation might
carry a tad bit more weight
if you weren't half way
through a sixth pack, Wilson.
Try getting through the day sober
after a rich bastard kills
your sister and walks.
Why don't you tell me about Claire.
She was a great kid.
Sweet, smart, beautiful.
She was only 19 when she met Van Doren.
Then he cut her off from us.
We could only visit once
a year at the holidays.
He was cruel.
Nothing she did was right or good enough.
Classic controlling behavior.
Did he ever hurt Claire?
Last time I saw her, I
dropped in, unannounced.
She had all this makeup on.
Underneath, I could see, uh, bruises and...
Black eye.
She said she fell off a horse and...
- But you didn't buy it.
- Would you?
I begged her to leave.
Then Van Doren came home, threw me out.
A week later, I got a call.
Claire went kayaking. Drowned.
Body was never found.
Sounds familiar.
Was the case investigated?
For about five minutes.
They, of course, ruled
her death an accident,
but it wasn't.
I know he killed her.
I bet he killed the new wife, too.
Don't let him get away with murder, again.
Okay, well, no alibi, but no motive.
Forget Van Doren's enemies.
What if, instead, Van Doren himself
hired a group of renegade bikers
to run Isabel into the river?
That would look like revenge
for The Ledger expose,
and Van Doren would be the
sympathetic widower again.
It's way risky.
How can Van Doren be sure that the bikers
would keep their mouth shut afterwards?
- Blackmail? Bribery?
- Or none of the above.
- Meaning?
- Meaning,
what if there were no bikers?
I've been reviewing the
audio from the 911 call,
trying to identify the makes and
models of the approaching motorcycles
based on engine-pitch and timbre.
Listen to this.
They're gonna kill me, please!
That's a distinctive...
Pitch and timbre.
As a matter of fact it is.
It's manufactured.
Which now makes me believe
everything the 911 operator
heard in this call is a sound effect.
But her fear sounds pretty real.
Audi compression, digital
distortion, auto-tune.
Okay, no real motorcycles.
No real distressed calls.
No body, but real blood.
Real scalp and hair fragments.
So what the hell happened?
- Mostly likely explanation?
- Please.
He killed her first,
and then staged the crash.
Anyone can probably figure
out how to auto-tune.
Even edit together some
sentences lifted off voicemails,
but this car went into
the water at full-speed.
So, how the hell did Van Doren manage that?
Son of a bitch.
Excuse me?
Not you. The plastic bag.
There was a zip-lock bag
down by the accelerator.
My Volvo's full of them, the kid's snack.
I assumed that it was Isabel's garbage
or the river's garbage.
What if it had been filled with ice?
The weight of which could've been used
to hold down the accelerator.
And the proof would have melted
in the water before we found it.
That's what I was going to say,
but it's fine that you said it out loud.
So, Van Doren kills Isabel,
puts her in the driver's
seat, rigs the accelerator.
Then calls 911 on her
phone, plays the fake call,
while the SUV runs right off the road
and then he just walks away.
Where does he go next?
Van Doren had to go
somewhere after the crash.
There, on the river.
You think that Van Doren swam away?
No.
But, maybe, he took a taxi.
Try a gondolier up river if you're
looking for a romantic ride.
Strictly platonic.
Tell us about your routes.
Uh, ferry service all day long.
Party-boats at night.
What about the mornings? Early?
Just to the Red Hook IKEA.
Usually starts at 8:00 a.m.
- But there's a sale this
week. -00.
If you like meatballs for breakfast.
Did he take your early ferry yesterday?
Nope. The only early birds were women.
Was she one of your early birds?
Oh, yeah, I remember her.
She looked awful sad for someone
going on a shopping spree.
The accident was staged though, right?
But not by Terrence Van Doren.
Isabel faked her own death.
Who knew so many people
hit IKEA before dawn?
It's a good crowd for Isabel to get lost in.
Why did she need to run in the first place?
Well, Van Doren abused his first
wife, odds are he beat Isabel.
Yes! There's Isabel.
Going with the classic
ball-cap and shades look.
Finds her ride...
No plates. No APB's. Clever, Isabel.
Yeah, and in such a neat little bow.
You tied it, almost afraid to pull it.
Your footage shows a woman,
but I'm sorry to say it's
not definitively Isabel.
I thought our health plan covered vision.
The strongest evidence we have is
the DNA from the car's windshield.
Which matches Isabel.
Chances are she's underwater.
What if I'm right?
It's a bad habit of mine.
Okay, let's say you're right.
Why search for a woman who took
desperate measures to disappear?
Because it's hard to disappear.
If Isabel slips up even once, Van Doren's
got all the resources to find her,
Isabel must have thought
her life was in danger.
We find her first. We keep her alive.
Yeah, but about Van Doren,
we've only got the word of
a drunk with an axe to grind
that he hit his first wife.
And no proof that he abused Isabel.
You want to take that risk?
You may not be aware that
domestic violence batterers
view their wives as property,
which is why lethality skyrockets
when women try to leave.
Heads-up.
- She's right there.
- Thank you.
You must be Captain Santiani.
I'd like a word, if I may.
I won't waste your time.
Your detectives are failing to
properly investigate my wife's death.
May I ask how you concluded that?
Sources tell me that they spoke
to my former brother-in-law.
Well, yes.
We are interviewing all the
individuals who threatened you.
Well, but instead of
threatening him, like a suspect,
they indulged his lunatic conspiracy theories
about my first wife's disappearance.
They're merely being thorough.
Wilson is in and out of rehab.
He believes in UFOs.
He's a sad, unreliable
witness with an agenda.
How's Isabel's case progressing?
We are actively pursuing leads...
I decode double-speak for a living.
You've got nothing.
I preferred if the case was reassigned.
Get some fresh eyes on the matter.
If that's a problem for you,
I am happy to call Police
Commissioner McTier.
No need. I will look into your concerns
and take immediate action if my
team has done anything improper.
Please keep me in the loop.
I'll be sure to tell McTier what
an excellent job you're doing.
Hello. Eavesdrop much?
I never thought I'd see
you kowtow to the 1%.
Save it. I just bought you time.
Well, you and Laura think
that Isabel's alive,
then find her and keep her safe.
Tell me more about Isabel.
I was hired to help her navigate
through the shark-infested waters
of the Greenwich social circle.
But to be honest, I couldn't help much.
Why not?
The ladies who lunge are super judgy.
The boss gave Isabel an
unlimited budget for clothes.
I took her to fashion week,
introduced her to designers,
but she was more into jeans and t-shirts.
- I approve.
- Mr. Van Doren didn't.
He wanted her to look
perfect and show her off.
Did his need for perfection cause
any problems in the marriage?
Yes. You talked to the
drunk ex brother-in-law?
I'm only interested in your opinion.
I was with the Van Doren's 24/7.
Take it from me, he loved his wives.
Adored his mom.
She died last year,
he still visits her grave every week.
And, like they say,
"If you want to know what
kind of husband a man makes,
"look at how he treats his mother."
So you were with Isabel every day.
She must have confided in you.
Oh, I'm staff, not her BFF.
So, if she tried to go
there, I shut it down.
- So who were her friends?
- Sad to say, but no one, really.
I mean, she had a busy social
life, but they were his friends.
- She must have been lonely.
- She was.
I suggested volunteering.
Hoped she'd make friends,
but instead of doing junior league,
she chose a storefront women's
rights place in the city.
As you can imagine, hanging
out with agro-feminist
didn't boost her popularity in Greenwich.
Well, we agro-feminists
like to stick together.
So, where did she volunteer?
The Stuyvesant Women's
Center is a one-stop shop.
Everything from counseling, job training,
domestic violence shelter,
emergency day care for working moms.
Please take my children.
I hear you.
Now, how can I help the NYPD?
Ms. Williams, you were
close with Isabel Van Doren?
Yeah, she was our biggest donor.
I was devastated when I heard the news.
And were you devastated when she
told you that her husband beat her?
I'm sorry?
She had no friends. She was lonely.
Isolated by a controlling husband.
Everyone in her life was
on Van Doren's payroll.
Except you.
I only know what you know.
Isabel Van Doren had
enough money to bankroll
any charity in the Tri-state area.
She chose this one. I think
it was a cry for help.
Okay, I'm sorry, but I can't help you.
I never betray a client's confidence.
And face an obstruction charge?
We know Isabel faked her own death.
Now, if you hold out on us,
your arrest will jeopardize your work here.
If we find Isabel, she could
help us put Van Doren away.
She won't have to hide
for the rest of her life.
Lock me up if you want,
I'm not compromising my clients.
We're the good guys.
Everybody says that.
You know what, if I were on the run,
you would be the type of
woman I would trust, too.
Samantha, can
I get a hand over here?
- Max...
- Yes, ma'am?
I want you to do a credit card
check on Samantha Williams,
director of the Stuyvesant Women's Center.
I have a feeling she rented a truck.
Copy that.
- Damn, I'm good.
- What did you find?
Isabel covered her tracks well,
but Samantha Williams
is strictly an amateur.
Direct link from her petty cash account
to a U-Haul knock-off in The Bronx.
Rented a box truck.
Just like the one Isabel got
into at the IKEA parking lot.
Yep, and the rental site has
shamefully weak security,
so I might just be able to hack their GPS.
Work fast. Mamma's holding on line two.
Laura. Freudian.
One step closer to Isabel,
and locking up Van Doren.
What a scumbag.
What is it about marriage
that makes men change
and turn into possessive, angry SOBs?
There are lots of good marriages.
We just don't get called out to those.
I've been a bridesmaid six times,
and all the marriages flamed out.
It's like men see wedding
rings as tiny handcuffs,
and they all got to be Houdini.
- Hey, it's me.
- Tell me you got something.
Like the last position of the
box truck before it was returned?
Off the Van Wyck Expressway,
close to the airport.
Isabel wouldn't risk airport security.
Are there any low-rent motels on that strip?
Yup, a couple.
Search for a female guest,
who checked-in two days ago,
traveling alone, paying cash.
Okay.
Let's get a head start out
to Queens while she traces.
I'll go.
She's a battered woman,
if we want her to open up,
I'd go alone.
Trust me. It's a woman to woman thing.
I'm here.
Unit 103 is a
woman who meets our profile.
- She gave us a name Marie Spartali.
- Sounds familiar.
According to Max, she was the greatest
female pre-Raphaelite painter.
Just the pseudonym an art
history major would choose.
Isabel?
It's detective Laura Diamond, NYPD.
Can we talk?
Come in, Detective. Now.
Don't think I don't know how to shoot this.
Hunting is one of my
husband's favorite hobbies.
I'm on your side, Isabel. I'm a cop.
My husband has a lot of people
on his payroll including cops.
Not this one.
Forgive me if I don't take your word for it.
- You don't know Terrence.
- But I know
that batterers are charming and kind.
Until the monster comes
out behind closed doors.
He must have done something brutal
to make you think that faking your own death
- was the only way out.
- He was going to kill me.
I believe you, which is why
we didn't tell him you're alive.
But if I go missing,
the entire NYPD will be looking for me.
And he will find out that you're not dead.
Put the gun down, Isabel.
You have to trust me.
I came to New York, I... After college.
My parents had just died.
I didn't know anyone.
- You must've been lonely.
- Yeah.
Well, I was lost and Terrence found me.
And swept me off my feet.
But, nothing I did was ever good enough.
He started punishing me.
- He was violent?
- Started small.
Like a pinch, a slap. The sex got rougher.
Angrier. If I even spoke to a man.
He would accuse me of cheating.
And then he started to beat me.
Never where it would show.
Did you tell anyone?
Who could I tell?
- You could have called the police.
- Uh-huh.
My husband plays golf with
the police commissioner.
And the Mayor.
I was trapped.
Until you became so desperate,
you formulated this plan.
Last month, I was in his study
I was looking for a pen on his desk.
He was so secretive about his finances
that when I saw a folder
- he'd left out.
- You snooped.
Who wouldn't? What'd you find out?
That his secretary, Beth, had a huge salary
and he bought her a condo.
So, you assumed they were having an affair.
After all the time he'd
accused me of cheating,
I told him I wanted a divorce.
And he lost it.
He kicked me till I passed out.
When I came to, he kicked me again,
for crying.
I knew he'd kill me.
Did he threaten to?
He said, Claire asked for a divorce
in the same room and look
what happened to her.
Pretty close to admitting
he had committed a murder.
That's when I knew I had to go.
But, I'd never pull off hiding from him.
So, you had to be dead.
You did a good job.
The 911 called the DNA
on the broken windshield.
Oh, yeah. I thought that would convince him.
It did.
There is a better way for you to be safe.
How?
Go back and testify.
I will put him away for
what he's done to you.
You don't know my husband.
Five minutes after you arrest him
he'll be back on the street.
He'll kill me and he'll destroy you.
- I'm not afraid of him.
- I think you should be.
So...
This is my only chance to start over.
Please don't make me go back.
Okay. I won't.
I'll find a way to take him down.
For good.
He'll be behind bars.
And you will have your life back.
I promise.
Maybe you should have brought Isabel in.
Faking her death isn't a crime
unless you try to profit from it.
Yeah. But, attempting murder
of a police officer is.
Isabel wasn't going to hurt me.
She aimed a shotgun at your chest.
Only you and I know that
and don't even think about telling Santiani.
She is a material witness.
She should be in protective custody.
She's safe for now.
But I promised her that I would
put Van Doren behind bars.
By what? Arresting him for beating her?
First time domestic violence offender
gets probation and anger management
and that's when he's not rich and powerful.
And the alternative is?
We prove Van Doren killed his first wife.
He'll get life and Isabel
will get a second chance.
But how do we prove that?
I'm working on that.
Voila.
From my stash of real-estate porn.
Casa Van Doren circuit 2003.
Wow.
Photos were taken before Claire died
the place hasn't changed a bit.
Yeah, why mess with perfection?
That chesterfield-sofa is to die for.
Oh, and Greenwich PD
finally coughed up the file
on the kayak mishap.
We do more interviews for a missing dog.
Van Doren could have killed her anywhere.
Buried the body. Then, called the police
with that phony drowning story.
Greenwich PD did one interview.
Van Doren's secretary, Beth,
who claims she saw Claire
heading out in a kayak
when she showed up to get
some documents signed.
The money Van Doren gave Beth was a payoff
for her lie about seeing Claire.
If we break Beth, we've got him.
Let me take a shot at her.
It's a man-woman thing.
Detective Broderick.
Was that information
that I gave you helpful?
Very.
I just have a few more questions.
Can I give you a lift down to the precinct?
I have to be back here at the crack of dawn.
Maybe in the morning.
You can go home if you want.
But I'll be back tomorrow.
You can't walk away from
a murder investigation.
You can't think I had something to do
with Isabel's death.
Not Isabel. Claire Van Doren.
- That was an accident.
- That was a lie.
Which, Greenwich cops bought
because you swore you saw Claire
head out in a kayak.
I, um...
Mr. Van Doren wouldn't want me
discussing his private life with you.
Yeah, because he pays you for your silence.
Six figure salary,
million dollar apartment...
- He's a generous man.
- He is a killer.
And you know it. Whose side are you on?
Your jack-hole boss or two women
whose lives he took?
He couldn't have killed Claire.
- He loved her.
- He beat her.
Just like he beat Isabel. We have proof.
Now, you're going down as
an accessory after the fact,
unless you change your story right now.
Tell me the truth.
Did you see Claire that day or not?
No.
But he swore to me...
Don't say another word.
Breach the confidentiality
agreement you signed
and you lose everything.
The detective said he
was going to arrest me.
If he had enough for an arrest
you'd be in handcuffs already.
David Ackerman,
house counsel for The Ledger.
And unless you have a
warrant, you're trespassing.
Am I, now?
I could arrest you for
obstruction this minute.
You failed to appreciate
how grave the consequences
for your actions could be.
Let me warn you one last time, Detective.
- Stand down.
- Screw you, Ackerman.
And screw Van Doren.
He is a wife beating killer
hiding behind his millions.
Thanks. You've
just given me grounds
for a defamation lawsuit.
Opening the door to a thorough investigation
of the Second Precinct.
Including your detective ex-wife.
She's a public menace.
And in this political climate
there's a low threshold
for police misconduct.
Your client can't intimidate
his way out of a murder rap,
no matter how rich he is.
Escort him out. Now!
I can find my own way.
Eat.
First thing tomorrow,
we pick up the secretary.
Van Doren has to be stopped.
The rich and powerful need to be
handled differently or they walk.
Ted Kennedy never did
time for Chappaquiddick.
OJ went to prison for burglary.
I didn't work those cases.
Did you order yourself a pizza?
No. But, this is gonna get ugly.
These guys are going to play hardball.
Let them.
Why are you harassing Terrence Van Doren?
Can you defend your uncalled for
attack on a grieving widower?
Any comments on
your track record on violence?
and the incompetence
at the Second Precinct...
It's officially ugly.
I've always had
great respect for the NYPD.
Captain...
But now, I understand the
recent anti-police backlash.
Detective Diamond and her
ex-husband, Detective Broderick,
are the epidemie of rogue cops.
Should they even be working together?
You know, I asked myself that every day.
And now, so does the police commissioner
who is on my ass, screaming
about my inability
to control my detectives.
This is a blatant attempt to intimidate us.
Which is just proof that I'm right.
That Claire Van Doren was murdered.
Are you done?
Take him down.
I'm sorry.
Did you just actually back my play?
Hell, yeah.
Wow.
I didn't expect that coming from you.
I have dealt with toads
like Van Doren before.
Now, I assume you have a plan.
Plan-ish.
If Van Doren killed Claire
in the study, as we suspect,
there might be trace evidence of
the crimes still in that room.
- It's been 10 years.
- Yes,
but according to Architecture and Decor,
the place hasn't changed a bit.
All right. Take a team, hit the house.
But, do everything by the book.
Make sure that your search
warrant is airtight.
Here's the "ish" part.
To get a warrant, I'd have
to name Isabel as my source.
And Van Doren would find
out that she's alive.
Captain, we can't let that happen.
Agreed.
So, we will forgo the warrant.
Are you suggesting an illegal search?
What? No. Never.
I am suggesting that we use Van
Doren's media blitz against him.
I'll tell the press that my detectives
just wanna take a look around the house,
ask him some questions to
free him of all the charges.
Van Doren's going to have to
consent or he'll look guilty.
- Smooth.
- I hope it's smooth enough.
By signing this you consent
to a search of the house
and the surrounding grounds.
You do not have to permit this.
I have nothing to hide.
This is just further proof of the
incompetence of your investigation.
Given that Isabel died in a car crash.
I have no idea what you could
possibly hope to find here.
We are searching for evidence related to
the murder of the first Ms. Van Doren.
Claire.
This is insane.
Claire wasn't murdered, she
died in a tragic accident.
The police investigated.
And, we are reopening that investigation.
Well, you go right ahead.
It's a waste of time.
Well, you know me,
the very picture of NYPD incompetence.
I cannot believe
how clean this house is.
- I could eat off these floors.
- That's not saying much.
You eat off your floors.
Feel free to come and mop any time you want.
Oh, I do my share of the house work.
You did your
share of a lot of things.
That doesn't sound like a compliment.
No?
How is "project forgiveness" coming along?
Well, it would be better
if you found some incriminating DNA in here.
Chances are Claire's body is
somewhere on the property.
I'm afraid, we're too late.
Sorry, my friends.
Roscoe did hit on something.
Cadaver dogs only detect
the smell of rotting flesh.
Oh, I am certain a body did decompose here.
Our K9 companion's expert
proboscis does not lie.
But, apparently...
Van Doren moved the body.
Dammit.
This guy's way ahead of us.
Roger that.
Widen the perimeter. Okay.
Absolutely nothing.
No blood, no fluids, nota.
Well, it's not a total loss.
Reynaldo just said that that they found
trace from remnants of a body
in the surrounding grounds.
- It's gone now.
- Well, of course, it is.
What do you see?
It's what I don't see.
- Oui, Madame?
- Hi.
Uh, can you check Architecture and Decor.
Were there three tapestries
hanging in Van Doren's study or two?
Don't have to check. Three.
It's always three. Two is heresy.
- Okay, just check again.
- Yuppadoddle.
"A 16th century triptych adorns the walls.
"A three-part series depicting
a lady with a unicorn."
Okay, Lady, check. Unicorn, check.
There's only two.
No collector would just sell one.
The remaining two would be worthless.
Well, not worthless-worthless. But still...
Like selling Larry but
keeping Curly and Moe.
Maybe when Van Doren killed Claire
some of her blood got on the tapestry.
In order to get rid of her DNA he tossed it.
Actually...
He didn't throw it out.
Well, then where is tapestry number three?
Thank you for squeezing us in after-hours.
Always happy to arrange a
private showing for dear friends.
After all, the Carnegies are among the
museum's most generous supporters.
Aw, shucks! I'll tell Grande Mama.
And here we are,
La Dame a la licorne.
Oh, I assure you, Detective.
It's the same piece.
Extremely rare.
And Van Doren donated only the one?
Yes.
Oh, I don't mean to sound greedy but...
The gift would be more impactful
if we have the other two.
When exactly did Van
Doren make the donation?
About 10 years ago.
Right after Claire Van Doren disappeared.
Well, that's right. It was
donated as a tribute to her.
We are going to need to have the
tapestry examined for trace evidence.
Oh, I'm sorry, but I doubt
you'll find anything.
Well, you see, each new acquisition
receives an extensive
cleaning and restoration.
Oh, excuse me, one moment.
Mr. Perfect did it again.
Ah, sorry I don't quite follow.
Van Doren couldn't destroy
the blood stained tapestry,
'cause it's too valuable.
Yeah, someone would definitely notice
if one-third of that set went missing.
But if he kept it, someone
might see the blood.
And you can't spot-clean
- a priceless antique.
- Heaven forbid.
By donating it, he ensured
that the DNA evidence
would be destroyed through
the restoration process.
Killing three birds with one
tax deduction. Impressive.
If there's nothing else,
I have a docent committee dinner.
Ah, one last thing.
Um, did Van Doren donate any other items?
Sadly not.
The museum was his mother's pet charity.
And he didn't keep-up the tradition.
I'm surprised, the Carnegies would
never abandon the philanthropic cause.
And we thank you for it.
But Van Doren despised his
mother and we paid the price.
He cut the museum off after she died.
Adored his mom, she died last year.
He still visits her grave every week.
I think Mr. Perfect just
made his first mistake.
I know I'm asking you to take
a huge risk but it's worth it.
How can you be sure?
I found the evidence we need
to put Van Doren away for life.
What evidence?
Claire's body.
I think I know where it is.
But I need you to prove it.
I only ever open this up for Mr. Van
Doren, but since you're family...
Thank you. My friends and I
just want to pay our respects.
And how often does Mr.
Van Doren pay his respect?
Like clockwork. Every week
since his mother died last year.
Brings fresh flowers every time, see?
- Ever bring anything else?
- Just his briefcase.
Busy man like that, I
never saw him without it.
David Van Doren.
- Beatrice Van Doren.
- That's his mom.
All right.
Looks like the seal has been broken, meaning
body may not be in pristine condition.
You can wait outside, if you want.
No, no. Whatever it is, I can handle it.
Okay.
Two skulls.
Gotcha, you bastard.
Yeah.
And obviously,
I'll have to complete a full
examination back at the lab.
But this one has clear signs
of head trauma, fractures.
Here.
And here.
- Poor Claire.
- Skull fractures are proof of murder.
And proof that the kayaking story was bogus.
But why here. Someone might have
found the grave in the woods.
And you did.
But a private crypt only family can
enter making it the perfect place
to hide a body.
Which is why he always had
his briefcase with him.
He brought Claire here, in pieces.
We got him.
You're free.
You can't go in there. Mr.
Van Doren the police are back.
Call security and my lawyers.
Beth Evans, you are under
arrest for conspiracy.
They're bluffing.
The rest of Claire's
skeleton is in the morgue.
The ME just ruled her death a homicide.
You really should have done a better
job of pretending to love your mother.
Maybe then, your visits to the
family crypt wouldn't have stood out
like a sore thumb or should
I say... A sore ulna.
Only you had access to the tomb,
so only you could put
Claire's remains back inside.
You're going down for murder.
You had no right to access the crypt.
Without a warrant, anything you
found is excluded from evidence.
You just ensured that I will never
see the inside of a courtroom.
Wow. You're right.
I did not have legal access to the crypt.
But I did...
- Isabel!
- Oh, did I forget to mention, she's alive?
And that she gave me
permission to search the crypt.
And that she is not afraid
to testify against you.
You interfering bitch!
That's me...
And proud of it.
Secretary cracked like an egg.
She never saw Claire that day.
So why did she lie?
She believed Van Doren's kayak story.
And she couldn't believe that her
beloved boss would lie to her.
So she agreed to back his
story to the Greenwich PD.
You know, if they had done
a proper investigation,
Van Doren would have spent
the last 10 years in prison.
- Well, he's on his way, now.
- Hmm.
Please tell me that that wasn't
really one of Claire's bones.
Build-a-body kit from the science museum.
It was a gift to the boys from Reynaldo.
Uh-huh...
Okay, you know, I got to ask.
You've been breaking my balls for months.
But this time, you backed my play. Why now?
My ex hit me.
Once.
And then I got the hell out.
I will see you in the morning, Diamond.
Can I buy the lady a drink?
I... Am too tired to lift a glass
and Alicia is just about to hit double OT.
How's Isabel doing?
She still can't believe that she's got
a second chance at living her life.
What would it take from me
to get a second chance?
You are relentless.
For the last time, I am still
working on forgiving you.
You don't have to forgive me, Laura,
I'd like it, but if you never did,
I'd understand.
So what you asking me?
You can be mad at me for the
rest of your life, if you have to,
just let me back into yours.
- Meaning?
- I want a date.
Jake, you know Tony and me.
- We are giving it a shot.
- Go for it, I'm not telling you not to.
Just...
Give me a shot.
May the best man win.
What's the nature of your call?
- Help! Someone's trying to run me off the road.
Ma'am, what is your location?
I'm on the West
Side highway. Please hurry!
Stay calm. We're tracking your position.
Police are en route. Can
you pullover somewhere safe?
- He's going kill me. Please.
Ma'am? Are you there?
They're going kill me!
Sounds like road rage gone extreme.
Motorcycle in the background.
Could be bikers just ran
our vic off the road.
No tire tracks? No skid marks?
Happens all the time.
Drivers panic and floor the
gas instead of the brake,
end up with this.
But, detectives, what does the name,
Terrence Van Doren mean to you?
Van Doren, publisher of The New York Ledger.
- Right?
- That's the one.
Hedge fund hero got bored making billions.
Bought a third string tabloid
on the verge of bankruptcy.
Turned it profitable.
Vehicle is registered to him.
Purse inside, not so much.
The car owner is either messier than me,
or New Yorkers are using the
river as their garbage can.
No car owner is messier than you.
Uh-huh. Thank you.
Oh, what have we got.
No phone.
Probably at the bottom of the river.
Ah.
Isabel Van Doren.
Presumably the rich guy's wife
and our 911 caller.
Now we know that the lead story
is in tomorrow's Ledger, huh?
More likely in the obituaries.
Looks like hair and scalp in the windshield.
We got divers searching,
but in these currents the body
could have easily drifted.
I am guessing DNA will
confirm Isabel as our driver.
I left for work at 4:00 a.m.
I didn't even kiss her goodbye.
Mr. Van Doren, why was
Isabel on the road so early?
I don't know, um...
Erin? This is Erin James.
Isabel's personal assistant.
Isabel had a board meeting in the city
at the family's charity foundation.
We support a lot of
programs for at-risk youth
and women's rights, the arts.
Thank you, Erin.
Uh, I'd like a moment with the detectives.
Do you have any leads on the car
that ran Isabel off the road?
Nothing solid.
Although it does appear that
a motorcycle was involved.
A motorcycle?
- This wasn't an accident.
- What makes you say that?
Two weeks ago The Ledger ran an expose
on motorcycle flash mobs.
Gangs, usually.
They run illegal high-speed
races in the city streets.
One of my reporters
embedded to get the story,
and after it ran, I got death-threats.
Why would they target Isabel?
She was driving your car.
It was dark.
They may have thought it
was you behind the wheel.
Oh!
Oh, God! Her car was in the shop,
and I told her to take my SUV.
This isn't happening.
We will need access to that reporter.
Of course, I...
I can have my staff connect you.
You just find who did this.
Please.
You went to Terrence Van
Doren's house without me?
I demand intel on this, square
footage and the decor.
- Go!
- Obsessed much?
Oh, yeah. Only since his house was
featured on Architecture and Decor.
When I was 15, the other boys
had their dirty magazines,
and I had mine.
Oh! BTWs, The Ledger reporter
sent over all of his research
on the motorcycle flash mobs.
Meredith hit on something.
Not your old-school Hell's Angels.
These guys are desk-jockeys, dentists,
techies working out their agression.
It's like cosplay for wannabe bikers.
More like Fight Club on wheels.
And just as secretive.
Meet-ups are posted to Snapchat,
messages last for 10
seconds then auto-delete.
There's a ride today in Queens.
Perfect chance for me to
blow-out the pipes on my Harley.
Hey, slow down easier rider.
You're still recovering.
You are not going anywhere near your Harley.
No, I can still ride.
We're talking crotch-rockets not fat boys.
And I can bet a pay check,
I look better in leathers.
Yeah.
Yeah.
Nice ride. What is it? 1200ccs?
More than you can handle.
Who do you ride with?
Whoever can keep up with me.
Whoo.
Trailing units, keep
yourselves under the radar.
Bose, nice and easy.
Just back-off, blend in.
Copy that, Dad.
Whoa!
What the hell, man?
Wow! Speaking of dads,
that Flanders over there, just
got himself in some hot water.
Hey, look where you're
going. Get out of my way.
Yeah. We got a situation.
Hey!
So much for blending.
It's all right.
We got you covered.
Let's calm this down.
- Or not.
- NYPD!
You're going down, idiot.
I know, I was all jacked up on adrenaline
and I lost control.
According to The Ledger, that's standard
operating procedure for you and your crew.
- That article was just mean and...
- So you sent
death-threats to Terrence Van Doren
and then ran his car into the Hudson
with Isabel Van Doren inside.
I was in bed with my wife
when that crash happened.
- You can ask her.
- We will.
Maybe one of your biker buddies
wanted some highway justice, huh?
They all did, but not with violence.
- Then how?
- Legally.
We filed a $10 million liable lawsuit
against Van Doren and his paper.
It does put motive into question.
The lawsuit is legit, too.
My buddy at Columbia Journalism
thinks that these guys
will win pay out from The Ledger.
Which means attacking Van Doren
would only ruin their case.
So who else would have a motive?
Crew of weekend bikers
can't be the only people
The Ledger's pissed off.
Van Doren's a real crusader.
He's gone after hate groups, slum-lords,
even poor, defenseless plastic bags.
Ralph Nader with his own tabloid.
Anyone of his enemies
could've run Isabel off the road,
knowing that the bikers were
low-hanging fruit as suspects.
I don't hate that theory.
I'm touched.
The bikers are facing assault charges,
so they're not going anywhere.
Meantime, find out who else
has stopped sending Van
Doren Christmas cards.
We'll hit The Ledger.
I... Ah, you will hit The Ledger solo.
Wait, wait. Hold on.
I know how to handle Van Doren.
- Kid gloves...
- Santiani speak, Diamond listen.
Your kid gloves have a
nasty habit of slipping off
and leaving fingerprints all over
messes that I have to clean up.
I want my squad on Van Doren's good side,
and off the front page.
Roger that. Right?
Of course.
Right.
Good morning.
Detective. Is there news?
Uh, I'm sorry. Nothing yet.
We just had a few follow-up questions.
I was surprised when your office
said that you were coming in today.
Well, I had to get out of the house.
I need to write Isabel's obituary.
She was an amazing woman.
She devoted her life to helping others.
And I want to give her the
tribute that she deserves.
We had heard that maybe you
weren't as well-loved as your wife.
It's true.
I run hard-hitting stories.
So death-threats have become
an occupational hazard.
You have records of all those threats?
- Beth, can you help him with this?
- Of course.
I need to get upstairs.
Thank you, Detective.
I have every piece of hate
mail digitally archived.
I can put them on a
flash-drive, message it over,
you'll have it in a hour.
You sure keep your hate
mail highly organized.
Well, we get quite a lot
I've been with Mr. Van Doren 14 years.
He's brilliant, but polarizing.
I can relate.
And I'm sure your files are impeccable,
but can you save me the reading time
and tell me who would
make the top of your list?
Probably Wilson Becker.
Mrs. Van Doren's brother.
We heard that Isabel didn't
have any living family.
Uh-uh, no. The first Mrs. Van Doren, Claire.
Her brother is a drunk.
He ties one on and sends
the nastiest emails.
What's his issue with your boss?
His sister drowned, and
he's never gotten over it.
He blames Mr. Van Doren.
Don't believe a word that bastard says.
Van Doren murdered my sister.
That accusation might
carry a tad bit more weight
if you weren't half way
through a sixth pack, Wilson.
Try getting through the day sober
after a rich bastard kills
your sister and walks.
Why don't you tell me about Claire.
She was a great kid.
Sweet, smart, beautiful.
She was only 19 when she met Van Doren.
Then he cut her off from us.
We could only visit once
a year at the holidays.
He was cruel.
Nothing she did was right or good enough.
Classic controlling behavior.
Did he ever hurt Claire?
Last time I saw her, I
dropped in, unannounced.
She had all this makeup on.
Underneath, I could see, uh, bruises and...
Black eye.
She said she fell off a horse and...
- But you didn't buy it.
- Would you?
I begged her to leave.
Then Van Doren came home, threw me out.
A week later, I got a call.
Claire went kayaking. Drowned.
Body was never found.
Sounds familiar.
Was the case investigated?
For about five minutes.
They, of course, ruled
her death an accident,
but it wasn't.
I know he killed her.
I bet he killed the new wife, too.
Don't let him get away with murder, again.
Okay, well, no alibi, but no motive.
Forget Van Doren's enemies.
What if, instead, Van Doren himself
hired a group of renegade bikers
to run Isabel into the river?
That would look like revenge
for The Ledger expose,
and Van Doren would be the
sympathetic widower again.
It's way risky.
How can Van Doren be sure that the bikers
would keep their mouth shut afterwards?
- Blackmail? Bribery?
- Or none of the above.
- Meaning?
- Meaning,
what if there were no bikers?
I've been reviewing the
audio from the 911 call,
trying to identify the makes and
models of the approaching motorcycles
based on engine-pitch and timbre.
Listen to this.
They're gonna kill me, please!
That's a distinctive...
Pitch and timbre.
As a matter of fact it is.
It's manufactured.
Which now makes me believe
everything the 911 operator
heard in this call is a sound effect.
But her fear sounds pretty real.
Audi compression, digital
distortion, auto-tune.
Okay, no real motorcycles.
No real distressed calls.
No body, but real blood.
Real scalp and hair fragments.
So what the hell happened?
- Mostly likely explanation?
- Please.
He killed her first,
and then staged the crash.
Anyone can probably figure
out how to auto-tune.
Even edit together some
sentences lifted off voicemails,
but this car went into
the water at full-speed.
So, how the hell did Van Doren manage that?
Son of a bitch.
Excuse me?
Not you. The plastic bag.
There was a zip-lock bag
down by the accelerator.
My Volvo's full of them, the kid's snack.
I assumed that it was Isabel's garbage
or the river's garbage.
What if it had been filled with ice?
The weight of which could've been used
to hold down the accelerator.
And the proof would have melted
in the water before we found it.
That's what I was going to say,
but it's fine that you said it out loud.
So, Van Doren kills Isabel,
puts her in the driver's
seat, rigs the accelerator.
Then calls 911 on her
phone, plays the fake call,
while the SUV runs right off the road
and then he just walks away.
Where does he go next?
Van Doren had to go
somewhere after the crash.
There, on the river.
You think that Van Doren swam away?
No.
But, maybe, he took a taxi.
Try a gondolier up river if you're
looking for a romantic ride.
Strictly platonic.
Tell us about your routes.
Uh, ferry service all day long.
Party-boats at night.
What about the mornings? Early?
Just to the Red Hook IKEA.
Usually starts at 8:00 a.m.
- But there's a sale this
week. -00.
If you like meatballs for breakfast.
Did he take your early ferry yesterday?
Nope. The only early birds were women.
Was she one of your early birds?
Oh, yeah, I remember her.
She looked awful sad for someone
going on a shopping spree.
The accident was staged though, right?
But not by Terrence Van Doren.
Isabel faked her own death.
Who knew so many people
hit IKEA before dawn?
It's a good crowd for Isabel to get lost in.
Why did she need to run in the first place?
Well, Van Doren abused his first
wife, odds are he beat Isabel.
Yes! There's Isabel.
Going with the classic
ball-cap and shades look.
Finds her ride...
No plates. No APB's. Clever, Isabel.
Yeah, and in such a neat little bow.
You tied it, almost afraid to pull it.
Your footage shows a woman,
but I'm sorry to say it's
not definitively Isabel.
I thought our health plan covered vision.
The strongest evidence we have is
the DNA from the car's windshield.
Which matches Isabel.
Chances are she's underwater.
What if I'm right?
It's a bad habit of mine.
Okay, let's say you're right.
Why search for a woman who took
desperate measures to disappear?
Because it's hard to disappear.
If Isabel slips up even once, Van Doren's
got all the resources to find her,
Isabel must have thought
her life was in danger.
We find her first. We keep her alive.
Yeah, but about Van Doren,
we've only got the word of
a drunk with an axe to grind
that he hit his first wife.
And no proof that he abused Isabel.
You want to take that risk?
You may not be aware that
domestic violence batterers
view their wives as property,
which is why lethality skyrockets
when women try to leave.
Heads-up.
- She's right there.
- Thank you.
You must be Captain Santiani.
I'd like a word, if I may.
I won't waste your time.
Your detectives are failing to
properly investigate my wife's death.
May I ask how you concluded that?
Sources tell me that they spoke
to my former brother-in-law.
Well, yes.
We are interviewing all the
individuals who threatened you.
Well, but instead of
threatening him, like a suspect,
they indulged his lunatic conspiracy theories
about my first wife's disappearance.
They're merely being thorough.
Wilson is in and out of rehab.
He believes in UFOs.
He's a sad, unreliable
witness with an agenda.
How's Isabel's case progressing?
We are actively pursuing leads...
I decode double-speak for a living.
You've got nothing.
I preferred if the case was reassigned.
Get some fresh eyes on the matter.
If that's a problem for you,
I am happy to call Police
Commissioner McTier.
No need. I will look into your concerns
and take immediate action if my
team has done anything improper.
Please keep me in the loop.
I'll be sure to tell McTier what
an excellent job you're doing.
Hello. Eavesdrop much?
I never thought I'd see
you kowtow to the 1%.
Save it. I just bought you time.
Well, you and Laura think
that Isabel's alive,
then find her and keep her safe.
Tell me more about Isabel.
I was hired to help her navigate
through the shark-infested waters
of the Greenwich social circle.
But to be honest, I couldn't help much.
Why not?
The ladies who lunge are super judgy.
The boss gave Isabel an
unlimited budget for clothes.
I took her to fashion week,
introduced her to designers,
but she was more into jeans and t-shirts.
- I approve.
- Mr. Van Doren didn't.
He wanted her to look
perfect and show her off.
Did his need for perfection cause
any problems in the marriage?
Yes. You talked to the
drunk ex brother-in-law?
I'm only interested in your opinion.
I was with the Van Doren's 24/7.
Take it from me, he loved his wives.
Adored his mom.
She died last year,
he still visits her grave every week.
And, like they say,
"If you want to know what
kind of husband a man makes,
"look at how he treats his mother."
So you were with Isabel every day.
She must have confided in you.
Oh, I'm staff, not her BFF.
So, if she tried to go
there, I shut it down.
- So who were her friends?
- Sad to say, but no one, really.
I mean, she had a busy social
life, but they were his friends.
- She must have been lonely.
- She was.
I suggested volunteering.
Hoped she'd make friends,
but instead of doing junior league,
she chose a storefront women's
rights place in the city.
As you can imagine, hanging
out with agro-feminist
didn't boost her popularity in Greenwich.
Well, we agro-feminists
like to stick together.
So, where did she volunteer?
The Stuyvesant Women's
Center is a one-stop shop.
Everything from counseling, job training,
domestic violence shelter,
emergency day care for working moms.
Please take my children.
I hear you.
Now, how can I help the NYPD?
Ms. Williams, you were
close with Isabel Van Doren?
Yeah, she was our biggest donor.
I was devastated when I heard the news.
And were you devastated when she
told you that her husband beat her?
I'm sorry?
She had no friends. She was lonely.
Isolated by a controlling husband.
Everyone in her life was
on Van Doren's payroll.
Except you.
I only know what you know.
Isabel Van Doren had
enough money to bankroll
any charity in the Tri-state area.
She chose this one. I think
it was a cry for help.
Okay, I'm sorry, but I can't help you.
I never betray a client's confidence.
And face an obstruction charge?
We know Isabel faked her own death.
Now, if you hold out on us,
your arrest will jeopardize your work here.
If we find Isabel, she could
help us put Van Doren away.
She won't have to hide
for the rest of her life.
Lock me up if you want,
I'm not compromising my clients.
We're the good guys.
Everybody says that.
You know what, if I were on the run,
you would be the type of
woman I would trust, too.
Samantha, can
I get a hand over here?
- Max...
- Yes, ma'am?
I want you to do a credit card
check on Samantha Williams,
director of the Stuyvesant Women's Center.
I have a feeling she rented a truck.
Copy that.
- Damn, I'm good.
- What did you find?
Isabel covered her tracks well,
but Samantha Williams
is strictly an amateur.
Direct link from her petty cash account
to a U-Haul knock-off in The Bronx.
Rented a box truck.
Just like the one Isabel got
into at the IKEA parking lot.
Yep, and the rental site has
shamefully weak security,
so I might just be able to hack their GPS.
Work fast. Mamma's holding on line two.
Laura. Freudian.
One step closer to Isabel,
and locking up Van Doren.
What a scumbag.
What is it about marriage
that makes men change
and turn into possessive, angry SOBs?
There are lots of good marriages.
We just don't get called out to those.
I've been a bridesmaid six times,
and all the marriages flamed out.
It's like men see wedding
rings as tiny handcuffs,
and they all got to be Houdini.
- Hey, it's me.
- Tell me you got something.
Like the last position of the
box truck before it was returned?
Off the Van Wyck Expressway,
close to the airport.
Isabel wouldn't risk airport security.
Are there any low-rent motels on that strip?
Yup, a couple.
Search for a female guest,
who checked-in two days ago,
traveling alone, paying cash.
Okay.
Let's get a head start out
to Queens while she traces.
I'll go.
She's a battered woman,
if we want her to open up,
I'd go alone.
Trust me. It's a woman to woman thing.
I'm here.
Unit 103 is a
woman who meets our profile.
- She gave us a name Marie Spartali.
- Sounds familiar.
According to Max, she was the greatest
female pre-Raphaelite painter.
Just the pseudonym an art
history major would choose.
Isabel?
It's detective Laura Diamond, NYPD.
Can we talk?
Come in, Detective. Now.
Don't think I don't know how to shoot this.
Hunting is one of my
husband's favorite hobbies.
I'm on your side, Isabel. I'm a cop.
My husband has a lot of people
on his payroll including cops.
Not this one.
Forgive me if I don't take your word for it.
- You don't know Terrence.
- But I know
that batterers are charming and kind.
Until the monster comes
out behind closed doors.
He must have done something brutal
to make you think that faking your own death
- was the only way out.
- He was going to kill me.
I believe you, which is why
we didn't tell him you're alive.
But if I go missing,
the entire NYPD will be looking for me.
And he will find out that you're not dead.
Put the gun down, Isabel.
You have to trust me.
I came to New York, I... After college.
My parents had just died.
I didn't know anyone.
- You must've been lonely.
- Yeah.
Well, I was lost and Terrence found me.
And swept me off my feet.
But, nothing I did was ever good enough.
He started punishing me.
- He was violent?
- Started small.
Like a pinch, a slap. The sex got rougher.
Angrier. If I even spoke to a man.
He would accuse me of cheating.
And then he started to beat me.
Never where it would show.
Did you tell anyone?
Who could I tell?
- You could have called the police.
- Uh-huh.
My husband plays golf with
the police commissioner.
And the Mayor.
I was trapped.
Until you became so desperate,
you formulated this plan.
Last month, I was in his study
I was looking for a pen on his desk.
He was so secretive about his finances
that when I saw a folder
- he'd left out.
- You snooped.
Who wouldn't? What'd you find out?
That his secretary, Beth, had a huge salary
and he bought her a condo.
So, you assumed they were having an affair.
After all the time he'd
accused me of cheating,
I told him I wanted a divorce.
And he lost it.
He kicked me till I passed out.
When I came to, he kicked me again,
for crying.
I knew he'd kill me.
Did he threaten to?
He said, Claire asked for a divorce
in the same room and look
what happened to her.
Pretty close to admitting
he had committed a murder.
That's when I knew I had to go.
But, I'd never pull off hiding from him.
So, you had to be dead.
You did a good job.
The 911 called the DNA
on the broken windshield.
Oh, yeah. I thought that would convince him.
It did.
There is a better way for you to be safe.
How?
Go back and testify.
I will put him away for
what he's done to you.
You don't know my husband.
Five minutes after you arrest him
he'll be back on the street.
He'll kill me and he'll destroy you.
- I'm not afraid of him.
- I think you should be.
So...
This is my only chance to start over.
Please don't make me go back.
Okay. I won't.
I'll find a way to take him down.
For good.
He'll be behind bars.
And you will have your life back.
I promise.
Maybe you should have brought Isabel in.
Faking her death isn't a crime
unless you try to profit from it.
Yeah. But, attempting murder
of a police officer is.
Isabel wasn't going to hurt me.
She aimed a shotgun at your chest.
Only you and I know that
and don't even think about telling Santiani.
She is a material witness.
She should be in protective custody.
She's safe for now.
But I promised her that I would
put Van Doren behind bars.
By what? Arresting him for beating her?
First time domestic violence offender
gets probation and anger management
and that's when he's not rich and powerful.
And the alternative is?
We prove Van Doren killed his first wife.
He'll get life and Isabel
will get a second chance.
But how do we prove that?
I'm working on that.
Voila.
From my stash of real-estate porn.
Casa Van Doren circuit 2003.
Wow.
Photos were taken before Claire died
the place hasn't changed a bit.
Yeah, why mess with perfection?
That chesterfield-sofa is to die for.
Oh, and Greenwich PD
finally coughed up the file
on the kayak mishap.
We do more interviews for a missing dog.
Van Doren could have killed her anywhere.
Buried the body. Then, called the police
with that phony drowning story.
Greenwich PD did one interview.
Van Doren's secretary, Beth,
who claims she saw Claire
heading out in a kayak
when she showed up to get
some documents signed.
The money Van Doren gave Beth was a payoff
for her lie about seeing Claire.
If we break Beth, we've got him.
Let me take a shot at her.
It's a man-woman thing.
Detective Broderick.
Was that information
that I gave you helpful?
Very.
I just have a few more questions.
Can I give you a lift down to the precinct?
I have to be back here at the crack of dawn.
Maybe in the morning.
You can go home if you want.
But I'll be back tomorrow.
You can't walk away from
a murder investigation.
You can't think I had something to do
with Isabel's death.
Not Isabel. Claire Van Doren.
- That was an accident.
- That was a lie.
Which, Greenwich cops bought
because you swore you saw Claire
head out in a kayak.
I, um...
Mr. Van Doren wouldn't want me
discussing his private life with you.
Yeah, because he pays you for your silence.
Six figure salary,
million dollar apartment...
- He's a generous man.
- He is a killer.
And you know it. Whose side are you on?
Your jack-hole boss or two women
whose lives he took?
He couldn't have killed Claire.
- He loved her.
- He beat her.
Just like he beat Isabel. We have proof.
Now, you're going down as
an accessory after the fact,
unless you change your story right now.
Tell me the truth.
Did you see Claire that day or not?
No.
But he swore to me...
Don't say another word.
Breach the confidentiality
agreement you signed
and you lose everything.
The detective said he
was going to arrest me.
If he had enough for an arrest
you'd be in handcuffs already.
David Ackerman,
house counsel for The Ledger.
And unless you have a
warrant, you're trespassing.
Am I, now?
I could arrest you for
obstruction this minute.
You failed to appreciate
how grave the consequences
for your actions could be.
Let me warn you one last time, Detective.
- Stand down.
- Screw you, Ackerman.
And screw Van Doren.
He is a wife beating killer
hiding behind his millions.
Thanks. You've
just given me grounds
for a defamation lawsuit.
Opening the door to a thorough investigation
of the Second Precinct.
Including your detective ex-wife.
She's a public menace.
And in this political climate
there's a low threshold
for police misconduct.
Your client can't intimidate
his way out of a murder rap,
no matter how rich he is.
Escort him out. Now!
I can find my own way.
Eat.
First thing tomorrow,
we pick up the secretary.
Van Doren has to be stopped.
The rich and powerful need to be
handled differently or they walk.
Ted Kennedy never did
time for Chappaquiddick.
OJ went to prison for burglary.
I didn't work those cases.
Did you order yourself a pizza?
No. But, this is gonna get ugly.
These guys are going to play hardball.
Let them.
Why are you harassing Terrence Van Doren?
Can you defend your uncalled for
attack on a grieving widower?
Any comments on
your track record on violence?
and the incompetence
at the Second Precinct...
It's officially ugly.
I've always had
great respect for the NYPD.
Captain...
But now, I understand the
recent anti-police backlash.
Detective Diamond and her
ex-husband, Detective Broderick,
are the epidemie of rogue cops.
Should they even be working together?
You know, I asked myself that every day.
And now, so does the police commissioner
who is on my ass, screaming
about my inability
to control my detectives.
This is a blatant attempt to intimidate us.
Which is just proof that I'm right.
That Claire Van Doren was murdered.
Are you done?
Take him down.
I'm sorry.
Did you just actually back my play?
Hell, yeah.
Wow.
I didn't expect that coming from you.
I have dealt with toads
like Van Doren before.
Now, I assume you have a plan.
Plan-ish.
If Van Doren killed Claire
in the study, as we suspect,
there might be trace evidence of
the crimes still in that room.
- It's been 10 years.
- Yes,
but according to Architecture and Decor,
the place hasn't changed a bit.
All right. Take a team, hit the house.
But, do everything by the book.
Make sure that your search
warrant is airtight.
Here's the "ish" part.
To get a warrant, I'd have
to name Isabel as my source.
And Van Doren would find
out that she's alive.
Captain, we can't let that happen.
Agreed.
So, we will forgo the warrant.
Are you suggesting an illegal search?
What? No. Never.
I am suggesting that we use Van
Doren's media blitz against him.
I'll tell the press that my detectives
just wanna take a look around the house,
ask him some questions to
free him of all the charges.
Van Doren's going to have to
consent or he'll look guilty.
- Smooth.
- I hope it's smooth enough.
By signing this you consent
to a search of the house
and the surrounding grounds.
You do not have to permit this.
I have nothing to hide.
This is just further proof of the
incompetence of your investigation.
Given that Isabel died in a car crash.
I have no idea what you could
possibly hope to find here.
We are searching for evidence related to
the murder of the first Ms. Van Doren.
Claire.
This is insane.
Claire wasn't murdered, she
died in a tragic accident.
The police investigated.
And, we are reopening that investigation.
Well, you go right ahead.
It's a waste of time.
Well, you know me,
the very picture of NYPD incompetence.
I cannot believe
how clean this house is.
- I could eat off these floors.
- That's not saying much.
You eat off your floors.
Feel free to come and mop any time you want.
Oh, I do my share of the house work.
You did your
share of a lot of things.
That doesn't sound like a compliment.
No?
How is "project forgiveness" coming along?
Well, it would be better
if you found some incriminating DNA in here.
Chances are Claire's body is
somewhere on the property.
I'm afraid, we're too late.
Sorry, my friends.
Roscoe did hit on something.
Cadaver dogs only detect
the smell of rotting flesh.
Oh, I am certain a body did decompose here.
Our K9 companion's expert
proboscis does not lie.
But, apparently...
Van Doren moved the body.
Dammit.
This guy's way ahead of us.
Roger that.
Widen the perimeter. Okay.
Absolutely nothing.
No blood, no fluids, nota.
Well, it's not a total loss.
Reynaldo just said that that they found
trace from remnants of a body
in the surrounding grounds.
- It's gone now.
- Well, of course, it is.
What do you see?
It's what I don't see.
- Oui, Madame?
- Hi.
Uh, can you check Architecture and Decor.
Were there three tapestries
hanging in Van Doren's study or two?
Don't have to check. Three.
It's always three. Two is heresy.
- Okay, just check again.
- Yuppadoddle.
"A 16th century triptych adorns the walls.
"A three-part series depicting
a lady with a unicorn."
Okay, Lady, check. Unicorn, check.
There's only two.
No collector would just sell one.
The remaining two would be worthless.
Well, not worthless-worthless. But still...
Like selling Larry but
keeping Curly and Moe.
Maybe when Van Doren killed Claire
some of her blood got on the tapestry.
In order to get rid of her DNA he tossed it.
Actually...
He didn't throw it out.
Well, then where is tapestry number three?
Thank you for squeezing us in after-hours.
Always happy to arrange a
private showing for dear friends.
After all, the Carnegies are among the
museum's most generous supporters.
Aw, shucks! I'll tell Grande Mama.
And here we are,
La Dame a la licorne.
Oh, I assure you, Detective.
It's the same piece.
Extremely rare.
And Van Doren donated only the one?
Yes.
Oh, I don't mean to sound greedy but...
The gift would be more impactful
if we have the other two.
When exactly did Van
Doren make the donation?
About 10 years ago.
Right after Claire Van Doren disappeared.
Well, that's right. It was
donated as a tribute to her.
We are going to need to have the
tapestry examined for trace evidence.
Oh, I'm sorry, but I doubt
you'll find anything.
Well, you see, each new acquisition
receives an extensive
cleaning and restoration.
Oh, excuse me, one moment.
Mr. Perfect did it again.
Ah, sorry I don't quite follow.
Van Doren couldn't destroy
the blood stained tapestry,
'cause it's too valuable.
Yeah, someone would definitely notice
if one-third of that set went missing.
But if he kept it, someone
might see the blood.
And you can't spot-clean
- a priceless antique.
- Heaven forbid.
By donating it, he ensured
that the DNA evidence
would be destroyed through
the restoration process.
Killing three birds with one
tax deduction. Impressive.
If there's nothing else,
I have a docent committee dinner.
Ah, one last thing.
Um, did Van Doren donate any other items?
Sadly not.
The museum was his mother's pet charity.
And he didn't keep-up the tradition.
I'm surprised, the Carnegies would
never abandon the philanthropic cause.
And we thank you for it.
But Van Doren despised his
mother and we paid the price.
He cut the museum off after she died.
Adored his mom, she died last year.
He still visits her grave every week.
I think Mr. Perfect just
made his first mistake.
I know I'm asking you to take
a huge risk but it's worth it.
How can you be sure?
I found the evidence we need
to put Van Doren away for life.
What evidence?
Claire's body.
I think I know where it is.
But I need you to prove it.
I only ever open this up for Mr. Van
Doren, but since you're family...
Thank you. My friends and I
just want to pay our respects.
And how often does Mr.
Van Doren pay his respect?
Like clockwork. Every week
since his mother died last year.
Brings fresh flowers every time, see?
- Ever bring anything else?
- Just his briefcase.
Busy man like that, I
never saw him without it.
David Van Doren.
- Beatrice Van Doren.
- That's his mom.
All right.
Looks like the seal has been broken, meaning
body may not be in pristine condition.
You can wait outside, if you want.
No, no. Whatever it is, I can handle it.
Okay.
Two skulls.
Gotcha, you bastard.
Yeah.
And obviously,
I'll have to complete a full
examination back at the lab.
But this one has clear signs
of head trauma, fractures.
Here.
And here.
- Poor Claire.
- Skull fractures are proof of murder.
And proof that the kayaking story was bogus.
But why here. Someone might have
found the grave in the woods.
And you did.
But a private crypt only family can
enter making it the perfect place
to hide a body.
Which is why he always had
his briefcase with him.
He brought Claire here, in pieces.
We got him.
You're free.
You can't go in there. Mr.
Van Doren the police are back.
Call security and my lawyers.
Beth Evans, you are under
arrest for conspiracy.
They're bluffing.
The rest of Claire's
skeleton is in the morgue.
The ME just ruled her death a homicide.
You really should have done a better
job of pretending to love your mother.
Maybe then, your visits to the
family crypt wouldn't have stood out
like a sore thumb or should
I say... A sore ulna.
Only you had access to the tomb,
so only you could put
Claire's remains back inside.
You're going down for murder.
You had no right to access the crypt.
Without a warrant, anything you
found is excluded from evidence.
You just ensured that I will never
see the inside of a courtroom.
Wow. You're right.
I did not have legal access to the crypt.
But I did...
- Isabel!
- Oh, did I forget to mention, she's alive?
And that she gave me
permission to search the crypt.
And that she is not afraid
to testify against you.
You interfering bitch!
That's me...
And proud of it.
Secretary cracked like an egg.
She never saw Claire that day.
So why did she lie?
She believed Van Doren's kayak story.
And she couldn't believe that her
beloved boss would lie to her.
So she agreed to back his
story to the Greenwich PD.
You know, if they had done
a proper investigation,
Van Doren would have spent
the last 10 years in prison.
- Well, he's on his way, now.
- Hmm.
Please tell me that that wasn't
really one of Claire's bones.
Build-a-body kit from the science museum.
It was a gift to the boys from Reynaldo.
Uh-huh...
Okay, you know, I got to ask.
You've been breaking my balls for months.
But this time, you backed my play. Why now?
My ex hit me.
Once.
And then I got the hell out.
I will see you in the morning, Diamond.
Can I buy the lady a drink?
I... Am too tired to lift a glass
and Alicia is just about to hit double OT.
How's Isabel doing?
She still can't believe that she's got
a second chance at living her life.
What would it take from me
to get a second chance?
You are relentless.
For the last time, I am still
working on forgiving you.
You don't have to forgive me, Laura,
I'd like it, but if you never did,
I'd understand.
So what you asking me?
You can be mad at me for the
rest of your life, if you have to,
just let me back into yours.
- Meaning?
- I want a date.
Jake, you know Tony and me.
- We are giving it a shot.
- Go for it, I'm not telling you not to.
Just...
Give me a shot.
May the best man win.