The Mysteries Of Laura (2014) s02e05 Episode Script
The Mystery of the Watery Grave
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 pull over somewhere safe? They're gonna kill me.
Please.
Ma'am? Are you there? They're gonna 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.
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 easy 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.
Yep.
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 payout 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 halfway through a six-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 exposé, 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.
First ferry at 6:00.
If you like meatballs for breakfast.
Did he take your early ferry yesterday? Nope.
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 treating 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 lounge 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'd 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'd 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 gonna 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, a 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 call, 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.
- 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 Santini.
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'll get a second chance.
But how do we prove that? I'm working on that.
Voilà .
From my stash of real-estate porn.
Casa Van Doren circa 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 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 epidemy of rogue cops.
Should they even be working together? You know, I ask 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, nada.
Well, it's not a total loss.
Reynaldo just said that they found trace 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 à 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? And he didn't keep up the tradition? I'm surprised, the Carnegies would never abandon a 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 respects? 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 the 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 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's 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'd 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 are 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.
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 pull over somewhere safe? They're gonna kill me.
Please.
Ma'am? Are you there? They're gonna 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.
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 easy 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.
Yep.
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 payout 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 halfway through a six-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 exposé, 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.
First ferry at 6:00.
If you like meatballs for breakfast.
Did he take your early ferry yesterday? Nope.
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 treating 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 lounge 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'd 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'd 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 gonna 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, a 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 call, 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.
- 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 Santini.
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'll get a second chance.
But how do we prove that? I'm working on that.
Voilà .
From my stash of real-estate porn.
Casa Van Doren circa 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 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 epidemy of rogue cops.
Should they even be working together? You know, I ask 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, nada.
Well, it's not a total loss.
Reynaldo just said that they found trace 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 à 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? And he didn't keep up the tradition? I'm surprised, the Carnegies would never abandon a 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 respects? 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 the 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 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's 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'd 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 are 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.