(male announcer) In New York City's war on crime,
the worst criminal offenders are pursued
by the detectives of the Major Case Squad.
These are their stories.
[gasps] Hi!
Hi, Zoe!
Hi, honey.
Oh, come on in.
Mommy has a play date tonight.
[both chuckling]
Bye, sweetie.
I love you.
[smooch]
Aw.
Bye. Bye-bye.
You can borrow these.
[cell phone rings]
Hi, there.
Sorry to interrupt, but...
I don't know how
it turned up behind some mats.
You're very kind.
Well...
good night.
Good night.
And thank you.
You hungry?
Isabel!
Zoe wants to see her mommy.
Isabel?
[gasps]
Oh, my God!
(Detective Farley) We haven't ID'd the male yet.
This was her place.
Isabel Harrington. 25, single.
Freelance magazine writer.
In a loft like this?
Not unless she's related to the Park Avenue Harringtons.
She is.
Lady Virginia's only granddaughter.
Isabel had a little girl?
Zoe, 18 months.
Downstairs neighbor was babysitting.
So mommy could have a romantic evening?
They never even made it to dessert.
Flowers are fresh.
No store name. No card.
Early morning delivery gone bad?
Mm.
Laptop stand but no laptop.
Gone, along with her iPod and the contents of her bag.
But, uh, the rest of the loft looks untouched.
Because he was... interrupted?
Blood drops from there
to here.
Then Isabel's date
came out of the bedroom
and surprised the killer?
A florist knife.
Probably used on both the victims.
Any ID?
No wallet, just a card in his shirt pocket out here
from SoHo Yoga.
He was fit.
Maybe an instructor?
I never heard her mention any yoga guy.
(Eames) She seems to have wanted last night to be special.
Would she have done that for a first date?
She didn't usually bring men home, you know,
because of Zoe.
You mean, instead, she went to their place.
(Eames) Regan, we're not passing judgment on Isabel.
We just need to know if she had a man in her life.
A man, no.
Men...yes.
She had this romantic notion
that some prince would sweep her off her feet
and be a dad for Zoe.
Other than Zoe's biological father.
He wasn't in their life.
I mean, she never even told me a name.
(Eames) An unwed mother.
Unusual in her family's world.
That's why she moved downtown.
She wanted to get away from the pressure
of being a Harrington.
Said she couldn't breathe on Park Avenue.
Isabel's father and stepmother are coming to pick up Zoe.
(Goren) You mentioned that Isabel was searching for a prince.
Did any of them bring her flowers?
(Kyle) Not ours. This is SoHo.
We use square vases.
Uh-huh.
But you have sent arrangements to Isabel Harrington.
Yeah, all the time.
Um...
Last one...
was a week and a half ago.
Paperwhites.
SoHo Yoga ID'd Willem Vanderhoeven
as one of their instructors.
He's been in the country for five weeks
on a work visa from Holland.
Who did he know in Manhattan?
Just his fellow yogis.
He lived at the ashram. His family's in Amsterdam.
He went to Isabel's last night
to return a shoe she'd lost after her yoga class.
So the wine and the candles-- she was expecting someone else.
Mm--Vanderhoeven died
because he was in the wrong place at the wrong time.
"Isabel was my beloved niece.
"And the Harrington family mourns her tragic death.
"On behalf of Lady Harrington,
"we also extend our deepest sympathies
"to the Vanderhoeven family in Amsterdam.
Finally, we would--"
(man) Ernest, excuse me, if I may.
My name is Grant Harrington.
I'm Isabel's father.
Today we are establishing a $100,000 reward
for any and all information
leading to the arrest of her killer.
[overlapping questions]
Mr. Harrington.
[questions continue]
(Eames) $100,000 for a black sheep daughter.
They're making all the right gestures.
Black sheep?
She was a freelance writer living in a 5,000-square-foot
SoHo loft.
Mustn't be too estranged from the family.
Nice to have you back on the job, Detective.
Good to be back. Thanks.
Everything, uh-- Everything's good.
We were talking about Isabel's finances.
We'll be looking into her family trust and Zoe's.
Zoe. That's the little girl.
Bet she has an inheritance now too.
Who's her father?
Her birth certificate says unknown,
and nobody's stepped forward.
Dinner at home. Could be an old flame.
When you're done with the florist list,
take another look at her phone records.
[papers rustling]
Isabel and I haven't been romantic since Bastille Day.
Now there's a holiday that's tough on relationships.
You keep a diary of all your relationships.
I'm a writer. I keep notes.
You're recording us.
You'd better start explaining this,
or you'll be working for the Rikers Daily News.
[laughs]
Okay, uh...
I'm speccing a piece on her murder.
Your girlfriend is killed,
and you're looking to cash in--sweet.
Ex.
And she cashed in on me all the time.
Every piece she wrote, I placed it for her,
all except the last one.
And what was that about?
[sighs]
All right, look--
Wait, wait, wait.
Playground adultery.
That might be it.
She mentioned the stay-at-home dads
making the moves on her in the sandbox.
(Katharine) Isabel brought Zoe here every day.
She was obsessed with motherhood--
music lessons, French lessons, but now--
(Eames) Ah, we're still in shock.
(Amy) You were close?
We worked together at Vogue.
We kept in touch.
Isabel always said that SoHo was a nice place to raise kids.
Max! Max, play nice.
We're thinking of moving down here.
Yeah, Isabel said she heard about
a great sublet from someone on the playground.
Um...I think she said he was a stay-at-home dad,
married, I think.
She was actually friendly with someone in this park?
Friendly? Right.
Jeez, poor Isabel, she kept trying,
even when he lost interest.
Oh. Who?
Dylan, the sandbox Romeo. He's right over there.
By the sandbox.
Ladies, could you watch our kid for us for a second?
(Eames) Uh, Dylan? Yeah?
Those ladies said you know Isabel Harrington?
(Eames) We have some questions for you. I have nothing to say.
Dylan, NYPD.
Dylan, stop!
Dyl--
Excuse us.
(Goren) Excuse us.
Dylan!
Sorry, excuse us. (Eames) Sorry.
Excuse us.
(Eames) Dylan.
Don't make us arrest you in front of your son.
(Eames) Most people keep diapers and baby wipes
in their diaper bag.
I don't know how that got there.
Right. So why'd you run?
My lawyer's on her way. Maybe I should wait for her.
That's okay-- so while we're waiting,
why don't you tell us what you and Isabel talked about
the night before she was murdered
on this phone here?
Oh, that.
She wanted me to come over. I couldn't.
So you stood her up.
I had to babysit my kids.
Oh, I love when men say they have to babysit.
If they're your kids, it's not babysitting.
It's called being a dad.
(Goren) How many do you have?
Two.
Three, though, right?
Counting Zoe, that's three?
You have the same ears. Got the same brow.
Look, we can do a blood test.
Look, no one knows.
Not even my wife.
Okay, Detectives, cease and desist.
What'd you do, Dylan?
Oh, oh. This is your lawyer?
And wife.
Leslie Mercer.
Leslie.
(Eames) Well, your husband's charged
with possession of marijuana.
A little weed. Personal use.
(Eames) And resisting arrest.
Mistaken identity, babe.
And he's a suspect
in a murder investigation.
Isabel Harrington.
[laughing] My husband is a saxophone player.
He doesn't hobnob with the Harringtons.
[exhales]
You gonna tell her, or--
Oh, man, that's not cool.
(Eames) Your husband is the father
of Isabel's 18-month-old child.
What?
I was gonna tell you.
(Eames) Isabel was murdered Saturday morning.
Your husband claims he has an alibi.
Now that I think about it,
you went out early.
8:00 am.
He didn't come back until 10:00.
I was moving the cars.
Oh, for two hours.
Where'd you park, Jersey?
I'm going to go pick up our son from Social Services.
And get yourself a new attorney.
Two--criminal and divorce.
Babe-- [Goren snaps fingers]
Pot-smoking sax player to double murderer.
I don't see it.
He has motive-- custody of Zoe.
There's a lotta money at stake.
Saw him with his wife. He was passive.
He's also a liar.
That car story--I'd like to find out what he's hiding.
Detective, you've outed him to his wife.
He's not going to tell you.
(Dylan) I was making a pot drop.
Uptown.
145 West End, apartment 4D.
Tough getting a buyer to verify that.
The building has a doorman
and security cameras in the lobby.
Well, your client could have just
hired someone to kill Isabel.
Oh, come on.
(Goren) With Isabel gone,
you'd get custody of Zoe and her trust fund.
Isabel wanted me named legal guardian.
But her family--
When that kid was in utero,
Isabel's people had me sign papers
giving up parental rights.
Which you went along with.
Well, like I had a choice.
She's a Harrington. And I play alto.
I was the Harrington family attorney for 25 years.
I can't violate the attorney/client--
We don't have time for a lecture
on privilege, Mr. Winthrop.
One of your clients was murdered.
With a billhook just like this one.
Only it was older.
You can't seriously think that I--
The murderer left flowers, Mr. Winthrop.
We could call CSU, have them come in here,
bag all of your flowers, see if there's a match.
I've known Isabel her whole life--I adored her.
Then help us, Mr. Winthrop.
Isa.
She was such a free spirit.
So you protected her when she wanted
to name Dylan Mercer Zoe's guardian.
I told Mr. Mercer we'd have to advise his wife
of Isa's request.
He went away,
on cue.
To the relief of the Harringtons?
Her father and stepmother gladly accepted their role
as legal guardians.
Why wasn't that Isabel's choice to begin with?
Were they estranged?
Isa's mother died when she was seven.
Her father Grant became a born-again bachelor
until Cheryl.
Lady Harrington raised Isa.
And loved her.
You call her Isa. You were close?
She kept in touch with me.
We'd go for lunch.
When did you see Isabel last?
July.
She was upset about the family finances.
But we're back to privilege. I'm sorry.
(Goren) You implied that you're no longer the family retainer.
You mind me asking when you retired?
In August. And I didn't retire.
(Eames) You were let go by Lady Harrington?
Lady Harrington is as loyal as she is generous.
I'm sure this was not her doing.
(Goren) Did she tell you that?
Because of her health,
I was never able to speak with Lady Harrington.
Ernest took me to lunch.
And he was quite apologetic. [cell phone rings]
Excuse me. I have to take this.
So Isabel came to see Winthrop in July.
He was let go in August.
We've been worried Isabel fell prey to an outsider.
Maybe the world she ran away from was the real threat.
(Ernest) I've known Terrence Winthrop since I was nine.
Spent more time with him than I did with my own father.
(Eames) So why'd you fire him, Ernest?
He was the victim of regime change.
Regime change.
Your stepbrother's marriage to Cheryl.
Grant is my half brother, not step.
Lady Harrington was mother of us both.
Yeah, but he's a Harrington. You're a Foley.
I was raised a Harrington.
Brava! Brava!
That was terrific.
That was wonderful, girls, wonderful.
They all wanted to cancel in memory of Isabel.
But she would have wanted us to press on.
You're a big patron of the arts, hmm?
We saw the plans for your new space on our way in.
Well...
those who can't do write checks.
With Foley money or Harrington?
We've heard Isabel was concerned
about the Harrington trust.
I can't imagine why.
Mother-- Lady Harrington--
always made sure that Isabel--
well, made sure all of us were secure,
in the hopes that we might help others.
Lady Harrington used to be a fixture
on the charity circuit,
but no one's seen much of her lately.
Is her health okay?
My mother's led a full and generous life.
Now it's our turn to help her.
Just sign right here at the bottom.
Right there.
Very good, Mother.
Helena, you sign underneath.
Should I read it?
No, no. That won't be necessary.
Just sign underneath my mother's signature
where it says witness.
[whimpering]
Last thing I expected at my age
was a toddler running around the house,
but Zoe's my granddaughter.
And we assume she stands to inherit a sizeable fortune.
That depends on your context, Detective.
I've managed the family's assets for 15 years.
Zoe's trust is one of a hundred blips on a computer screen.
(Eames) And you'll be administering that blip.
Just what are you implying?
(Goren) Well, we know that you weren't
Isabel's first choice for a legal guardian.
Isabel's first choices were seldom thought out.
(Goren) Well, you're fortunate
that Mr. Winthrop was able to protect Zoe.
He's a good man.
Then why'd you fire him?
My mother's old. She has her whims.
She can be mercurial. She wanted to make a change.
(Goren) Your mother made the decision.
That's correct.
Well, then I guess it wouldn't be a problem
for us to discuss the matter with Lady Harrington.
I'm afraid her doctors won't allow that.
She's not always lucid.
She has her good days, bad days,
but my wife is at her side constantly.
Oh, it sounds like your wife is who we need to speak to, then.
You don't have a problem with that, do you?
Moving?
Organizing.
(Goren) It looks like you're packing up.
Lady Harrington requested some of her things
be brought down to the city.
You're leaving that, yes? Absolutely not.
Virginia adores it.
She doesn't weekend here anymore?
She hasn't been here in a year.
She rarely leaves the New York apartment.
Because of her health?
It was worse when she was aware of her deterioration.
I'm almost glad she's at the point
where we needn't tell her about Isabel.
And how long has she been less aware?
She broke her hip a year ago.
Since then she's been-- the doctor calls it dwindling.
Huh. That's funny.
Your husband told us that she was the one
who made the decision to let go of the family lawyer,
Mr. Winthrop.
Oh, she was.
She felt he was dwindling.
If she was unaware of her surroundings,
then why was she allowed to make a decision
that was so important?
Lady Harrington is still this family's matriarch.
Her son does what she asks.
Janis, can we talk about the vanity upstairs?
Would you excuse us?
You get the feeling the new daughter-in-law
is giving Lady Harrington a run for her money?
Or taking every last penny.
(Simmons) Isabel got a monthly stipend
from this sweep account that her father managed.
Basically, he sweeps in 50K, she sweeps it out.
But I can't trace where that money's drawn from.
That's the problem with these family-managed trusts.
Or maybe that's the advantage for Grant Harrington.
Touché, Detective.
He could be committing the cardinal sin
of dipping into capital.
But as long as Isabel and Ernest
keep getting their monthly checks,
they'd have no way of knowing that.
There must be some public trail.
Yeah, right on.
So I conducted a search of all real estate sales,
all corporation taxes, anything that goes through the state.
That's when things got interesting.
Right. So in the last four months,
Lady Harrington has sold two houses in the Hamptons,
and there's a title search on that Westport house you visited.
There've been paintings sold at public auction,
jewelry-- How much?
20 million.
Lady Harrington is having a fire sale.
(Ross) The Harringtons stand to inherit the whole pie.
Why the rush-- tax advantage?
Most likely, Grant is bailing himself out
of some sort of sinkhole.
And he has power of attorney for his mother.
No. She signs every sale.
Then there must be a witness.
Right!
Same witness every time.
A Miss Helena Arcenas.
Occupation-- Home Care Assistant.
I know she's supposed to be in fragile health,
but pay a call on Lady Harrington.
Find out if she's really signing these papers
or if they're robbing her grave before she's even in it.
The police came to me. Asking about our finances.
Ernest, stop worrying.
Just cash your monthly check. It's what you do best.
Maybe I should take a look at things,
because I may need a lump sum soon
for a new dance space.
The money--it's all there, isn't it?
I--I think I should become more involved.
Fine, Ernest.
Involve yourself.
What would you like to see?
The stochastics?
S and P deviations? The puts to calls?
You tell me.
Exactly.
Go play with your dancers, Ernest.
[typing]
[stops typing]
When I was a little girl,
I used to dream of living this way.
(Goren) It's musty in here, though.
You can see the dead flies in the lamp.
Fake flowers.
I hope you got over that.
Mr. Grant will be right with you.
Actually, we were hoping to speak with Lady Harrington.
He said he'll be right with you.
Are you, uh, Helena Arcenas?
Can we talk to you a minute
about those papers you signed for Lady Harrington?
We won't tell Mrs. Cheryl.
They just told me to sign.
Do you know what you signed?
(Arcenas) The woman before me,
she asked questions-- she was fired.
Do you know her name?
Birdie. Like--
Thank you, Helena.
Detectives, I'm sorry you've wasted your time.
My mother can't be seen.
Well, if she's indisposed, she's indisposed.
She's old, she's frail. But she still has her pride.
But she would never want strangers to see her this way.
Detective, what are you doing?
Eames, remember when we were talking about
terra-cotta tile? Yes!
Italian marble inlay.
He's a tile buff.
Oh, that's-- that's nice, but--
No, no, Detective, I have to ask you not--
Grant was just a little too concerned
with shutting the door.
(Cheryl) You can't come in here.
You know, actually,
this home reeks of everything but concern.
What do you think you're doing?
No, no! You can't touch her-- Stop it!
She is clearly dehydrated.
(Grant) I didn't realize you were a doctor, Detective.
This is how you treat your mother?
She's flushed. Her skin is dry.
Eames, we're gonna need an ambulance.
You have no right to barge in here
and start demanding ambulance-- (Goren) Shut up.
I'd shut up if I were you.
Detectives, get out of my home.
I said to shut up.
So sit down and shut up!
This is Detective Eames, Major Case.
We need an ambulance at the Harrington home,
Park Avenue.
(Bridie) No, Bridie, not Birdie.
Yes, I was Mrs. Harrington's personal assistant
for many years-- how is she?
I read in the paper that when you found her
the poor woman was near death.
Her potassium levels were in the twos.
She's on diuretics.
They must not have given her the potassium supplements.
She okay now?
She's made a remarkable comeback.
She always was a fighter.
Were they trying to hasten her death?
Grant and Cheryl fired the home care worker.
They blame it all on her.
Well, of course they do.
Do you mind me asking why they let you go?
I overstepped my bounds.
Mr. and Mrs. Harrington wanted me to witness a deal
transferring Lady Virginia's Westport estate.
But you knew that she loved her home,
and you refused to sign.
Right. So they fired me.
I stirred that pot good.
That whole family-- [spits]
Except for poor Isabel.
(Goren) You know, Bridie,
you don't seem shy.
When you knew that she was being mistreated,
why didn't you tell someone?
I did--I told Isabel three months ago.
(Eames) And what did she do?
She told me she was gonna go public with an article.
An exposé of the Harrington family.
The Harringtons can't have been too happy about that.
I promised her I'd keep it a secret.
Thank you. Mm-hmm.
The desk in her loft was ransacked.
Whoever killed her didn't want
the family's dirty laundry aired.
Her laptop may be gone,
but if she did any research online,
we may be able to find it through her server.
Any luck?
Everything Isabel Googled in the last six months.
I thought she was doing an exposé on her family.
How much research did she need to do?
Well, these searches--
some were about Lady Harrington's medications.
But she was also looking into
the death of her mother, Lissie Harrington,
18 years ago.
Her mother. How did she die?
According to her obituary, a heart arrhythmia.
She was 28.
That seems awfully young.
Isabel's search engine also showed inquiries
about the medications mellaril and hismanal.
Mellaril was used in the '80s. It's an antipsychotic.
So, researching old drugs and her mother's death.
Have Rodgers take a look at her mother's autopsy report.
(Rodgers) There was no autopsy.
Lissie Harrington died in the emergency room.
Her EKG showed an arrhythmia.
A week later,
a tox report was filed in her medical records.
No one ever looked at it
until Isabel requested them about three months ago.
Let me guess--
Lissie had mellaril and hismanal in her system.
Mm-hmm.
Antipsychotic with that antihistamine?
That's a lethal combination.
Would that have been common knowledge at the time?
Oh, definitely.
No doctor would have prescribed them together.
And no doctor should have attributed her death
to natural causes.
(Johnson) Detectives, we're grateful to you
for saving Lady Harrington, but these questions,
they border on harassment.
You don't know what's going on here, do you?
I mean, between your first wife's overdose,
your mother's neglect, your daughter's murder,
you are, at best, looking like the angel of death.
[clears throat] Okay.
When Isabel was born,
Lissie became...depressed,
weepy, angry.
(Eames) Postpartum?
Isabel was seven when Lissie died.
That's correct. It was seven years of hell.
Hell for you or hell for her?
I mean, how 'bout your wife?
Did you get her help?
I did everything I could--
doctors, therapy.
And medicated her with mellaril.
That's an antipsychotic.
It was the only thing that worked.
She had become delusional and paranoid.
Delusional and paranoid. Paranoid--that's, uh,
your diagnosis,
the doctor's, whose?
Maybe he gave her something to be paranoid about--cheating?
She was paranoid about the money.
Lissie grew up worse than hand-to-mouth,
and she was afraid the money wouldn't last.
Or was she suspicious of you managing the family finances?
Not of me, Detective, but Ernest and my mother.
She wanted me to cut them off.
Their charitable contributions.
Experimental theater for Ernest,
and for mother, museums, parks,
and historic preservation.
(Goren) So Lissie was depressed
for seven years, and then one night,
she takes an overdose of her meds.
Hmm?
W-where were you?
On a boat in the Galapagos.
Nice.
(Eames) Oh, that's convenient.
Yet you know it was a suicide.
(Grant) It was the holidays.
She had been drinking.
Her maid came home, found her passed out,
called my mother.
They took her to the ER and, unfortunately,
it was too late.
Your wife on any other medications
other than the mellaril?
She have allergies? No.
What about you, Grant? You allergic to anything?
No, Detective, I have no allergies.
I'm sorry to inform you that this was a suicide.
(Virginia) My son Grant tells me
that I'm in your debt.
Apparently, there was a mistake with my medication,
and only you noticed.
It's a terrible shock to gain my health,
only to find out that my granddaughter was murdered.
She was my joy.
We're very sorry for your loss.
And I gather that you think that my daughter-in-law
was murdered as well?
Grant told you that?
No, Detectives.
I deduced it.
Why else would you be talking to my son
about an 18-year-old suicide?
Yeah, we wouldn't.
But Grant believes that Lissie killed herself.
And you don't?
If she were going to take her own life,
she would never have done it
with Isabel in the apartment.
If you don't believe that she committed suicide,
why didn't you ask for an autopsy?
Please sit.
It's your name, isn't it?
The Harrington name--
you didn't want it splashed on the front page.
(Eames) Or maybe you had some idea
of who may have wanted Lissie dead.
I knew a great deal about my daughter-in-law's past.
And I accepted that we were better off not knowing.
You never suspected your son?
Of course not.
Grant was far away
the night that Lissie died.
And he is a Harrington.
With what all that entails.
These Harrington traits--
did anyone have allergies?
No.
Oh. [laughs]
That would be my first husband.
And your first hus--
that would be Ernest's father.
Did Ernest have allergies?
I'm not sure.
[laughs] Ernest had nannies.
Lady Virginia, your car is here.
(Virginia) Oh, thank you, Bridie.
We have reopened Westport.
And Grant and Cheryl
are giving me a small party tonight
to welcome me home.
It's just a terrible tragedy that Isabel won't be there.
The tragedy is
if you had said something 18 years ago,
Isabel might still be alive.
His father had allergies,
so you think Ernest Foley may be good
for a double family murder 18 years apart.
Yeah, that's one-- one theory.
Has anybody ever told you you're reductive?
My ex-wife.
Eames, walk me through this.
Slowly.
Grant told us Lissie wanted to cut off
Ernest's charitable contributions.
Okay.
Ernest's identity is tied to his philanthropy,
but his money was tied to Grant.
He would have felt threatened by Lissie.
So he faked her suicide,
and Lady Harrington covered even that up
as an arrhythmia.
Ernest got away with murder for two decades.
Until Isabel began digging.
And the other working theory?
Grant--he plundered the family trust.
Then he and Cheryl overmedicated Lady Harrington
so she would sign away most of her real estate
to cover their debt.
I don't suppose either of them will come in.
Well, maybe we can wrangle a last-minute invitation
to Lady Harrington's party tonight.
[background chatter]
(Grant) Uh, trying to open up the-- No, thank you.
uh, open up the...
Excuse me.
Uh, no. No, no, excuse me.
Uh, no.
Detective, you're not allowed in here.
Detectives, I'm sorry you came all the way.
Please take some coffee in the kitchen before you leave.
(Cheryl) It's really a private affair.
Oh, we know. Lady Harrington invited us.
(Virginia) Oh, Detectives, there you are.
Oh, I'm so glad you're here. Come with me.
Everyone! Ah, everyone!
I want you to meet these two terrific detectives
who--who saved my life.
[guests chuckle]
Bravo, bravo!
We're very grateful to both of you.
Well, actually, we were just about to tell your sons
we may have had a break in the case.
You know, uh, Lady Harrington
doesn't have to worry about that--
not tonight.
Ernest, please.
I think about Isabel night and day.
What--what have you learned?
Your granddaughter was working on an investigative piece.
We thought that her murderer had taken all of her notes
and her drafts.
But it turns out she mailed a copy to herself.
It's a poor man's copyright.
We got it this morning.
Oh!
And so you think that-- that this article
had something to do with her murder?
Isabel wrote about yoga wear and ankle boots.
She'd hardly get killed over that.
Cheryl, don't push it.
What was she writing about?
She was writing about the Harringtons.
Oh, poor Isabel.
A memoir, huh?
She must have thought
that the only way to make it as writer
was to betray the Harrington name.
(Goren) A little less of a memoir
than it was a mystery.
I mean, Isabel was convinced that her mother's death
wasn't an accident.
Her mother? Well, no, no, no.
It wasn't an accident. No, she had a heart attack.
(Grant) Ernest, stop.
Let it go.
They know about Lissie's depression.
Mother, I apologize.
I thought it best to be forthright.
(Virginia) Grant, you don't have to apologize.
The truth is, if I hadn't worried so much about our name
when Lissie died,
if I hadn't swept everything under the carpet,
Isabel might be alive now.
(Grant) Mother, Lissie's suicide
had nothing to do with Isabel's death.
No, no, she had a heart arrhythmia.
(Goren) Caused by an interaction of antipsychotics
and antihistamines.
(Eames) Which raises a red flag right there
since Lissie wasn't allergic to anything--
not cat hair, not dogs, not flowers.
We're trying to figure out how she could have
had access to hismanal.
(Goren) We asked your mother
if anyone in the family had allergies.
Grant doesn't.
Well, that's what Lady Harrington said.
Harringtons don't.
But she doesn't recall your childhood.
I'm sorry, Ernest.
(Eames) Well, but that's not her fault.
Mr. Harrington didn't want you around.
In our world, it's about quality time.
My nanny was there to draw my bath,
to wipe my nose.
[scoffs] Your nose.
I remember it dripping.
I mean, at weddings
and during the summer up at Westport.
So you-- you do have allergies.
Fine. I have allergies.
I'm on medications. What meds are you on, Detective?
(Eames) Your allergies--
any specifics?
Goldenrod, roses.
Name the bloom, and I sneeze.
Just to make it through this damn party,
I had to double up on my Claritin.
Which means, Detectives,
that if I had gone to Isabel to confront her about her lies,
I never would have brought her a bouquet of flowers.
How'd you know about the flowers, Ernest?
I don't--I don't know. I read about them.
We never released that detail to the press.
A-all right. I--I don't know.
I heard it from Isabel's neighbors.
Mother, please, the guests.
Would you tell these detectives to leave?
No, no, I want them all to know!
Don't leave, anyone! All of you, stay.
(Grant) Mother--mother, please--
I'll talk to you later, Grant. Ernest!
Mother, it's not what you think.
That's right, Ernest.
Tell her that you were trying to save yourself.
Just like Lissie, Isabel would ruin everything.
All your life as a benefactor,
a fixture on the charity circuit--
all that would be over.
What have you done?
I--I tried to protect the Harrington name.
Ernest, you don't have what it takes
to be a Harrington.
What, and Grant does?
Marrying this piece of white trash?
Wiping the family fortune clean?
Keeping her doped up until you could pick her carcass clean?
Damn you, you killed my daughter!
You killed my daughter!
(Virginia) What have you done?
What have you done to my granddaughter?
Isabel was gonna write about all of it,
the busted trusts, Grant's whores,
you lying there in those urine-stained sheets.
Mother, is this how
you want the Harringtons to be remembered?
Oh, she was trying to save my life.
She cared about me.
She cared about Zoe.
What have you done?
Mother--
No, you monster.
[sobbing] You monster.
[sobbing]
Please-- Hey.
Hands behind your back.
Can we do this outside? No, we cannot. We'll do it right here.
Ernest Foley, you're under arrest
for the murder of Willem Vanderhoeven
and Lissie and Isabel Harrington.
All right.
Mother.
My life...
[sobbing]
What happened to-- to my life?