Previously on The Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair...
Oh, wow, what is this?
It's for putting dry bread in,
so you can feed the seagulls.
Tell me I'm your...
your darling Nola.
You're my darling Nola.
Crime scene photos.
What is on the first page of this goddamn manuscript?
This is not my writing.
If you didn't write this,
who the fuck did?
I can't stay here.
I can't afford this house.
We'll find us a way.
We'll find it.
It doesn't matter, we'll make it work.
We always make it work.
Don't you love me?
Yes.
That's all that matters.
Harry didn't kill that girl, I know it.
: Because he's your friend?
: Because there's someone out there
who doesn't want me to figure out who did.
: Harry was waiting for her
at the By The Sea Motel in Room 8, okay?
He said Nola had sent him a letter
saying that she'd meet him there,
but she never showed up.
The path through the forest goes to the beach.
Someone's beating you again, aren't they?
Yes, for disappearing for a week.
That's when she told me
about her being in love with an older man.
Didn't name names,
but I was sure it was Stern.
My former chauffeur, Luther Caleb, painted it.
I have witnesses who will testify
that you two
were actually in a relationship.
The results are in, Goldman...
The handwriting isn't Harry's.
He didn't write the note on that goddamn manuscript.
I mean, that was their main piece of evidence.
Why didn't you carry out the investigation
like you should have?
That girl knew exactly what she was doing.
Nola...
Now you're a criminal.
: It's the first 50 pages.
You know, it's rough, you know, it's just notes, really.
Go ahead, give us all those sordid, juicy details
about how she went down on him,
and then he forced her to go down on him again.
Where are you taking me?
: Detective, wh
Where are they taking my husband?
What did you do? Tell me!
I have some devastating news.
I've been hacked.
Those 50 pages of notes you e-mailed me,
leaked to every major news outlet
all over the country.
Wait, wait, wait, wait.
Roy? You have to stop them, okay?
It's too late. By tomorrow,
this will be all anybody's talking about.
: They make it sound
like Nola was sleeping with the whole town!
: If it barks, it's probably a dog, okay?
Facts are just facts.
Yeah, not when they're taken out of context.
They printed my notes, Doug.
Okay, I was writing something,
something human, and... and personal,
and they made it sound--
Better?
No, I'm-- No, I'm serious, man, okay?
You're my agent.
We need to do something to restore my credibility here.
Morning.
"Jenny Dawn, formerly Jenny Quinn...
Shit.
...the current owner of Clark's Diner,
still carries a torch for Quebert...
Yeah.
an intense infatuation that's lasted 33 years
despite his total lack of interest."
Yes. These were notes, Jenny,
and they were not meant for publication.
It's in every goddamn newspaper in the country!
I have a husband, Marcus,
family, friends.
Did you ever think of that?
I'm-- Jenny, I'm very sorry, okay?
Sorry excuse for a friend,
I can tell you that much.
I didn't spend hours
giving you information about Sommerdale
so you could turn it into Freaktown, USA!
Ernie, Ernie, my notes...
my notes were leaked, okay?
I swear to God, none of this...
none of this was ever supposed to end up in print!
Listen, if there's anything I can do
to make it up to you--
There is, actually.
You can find somewhere else to eat.
Hey, you got my message?
: Libel schmibel,
you're gonna give yourself an ulcer, Goldman.
You should be happy.
Your dirty book's the reason
that Harry is getting released on bail.
Aren't you giving me a little too much credit?
The handwriting analysis alone would have gotten him off.
Oh, no, no, no.
That was the sundae, this is the cherry on top.
I mean, turning Nola into a gold-digging hooker,
that's genius.
Hey, hey, hey, hey, I never said that.
Was Nola Kellergan really
Excuse me, just a minute.
Excuse me, Mr. Roth.
Look, look, look, just stay tuned--
Was Nola Kellergan really seeing
Excuse me, just a minute. Just stay tuned to CNN--
Mr. Roth!
Would you wait a minute, please?
Can you wait?
I'm on the phone! Do you notice?
Right, sir. Right you are.
So within the hour, the DA is gonna come out,
and he's gonna take a huge dump in front of the public.
You don't want to miss it.
All right, now please, go ahead.
Was Nola Kellergan really seeing multiple men?
Of course she was. Yes.
Is the murder investigation
back to square one?
-Of course it is.
It is! It is...
-Mr. Roth! Mr. Roth! -Yes, ma'am.
Do you know who the killer is?
I know who the killer isn't.
Hi there.
Have a seat.
Hi.
Uh, just the scrambled eggs,
and a side of hash browns, please.
-Right away. -And some coffee.
Of course. Thank you.
Hey!
The coffee's better at Clark's,
don't you think?
Uh...
But sleaze peddlers and pedophiles' wives
can't be too choosy, can we?
Mrs. Pratt.
Maggie. Please.
Yeah.
So, they throw you out of Clark's?
What, me? No. No.
Well...
kind of.
How are you, uh, how are you holding up?
Gareth is staying at the Montburry Motel
since his release.
They informed everyone in town
there's a registered sex offender
in their midst.
Of course, by now the chief's old news.
Your tawdry exposé this morning
was just a little post-it to remind them.
Those pages were stolen, okay?
Good.
People should know what happened,
what Gareth did.
Look, you know,
maybe you shouldn't be alone right now.
Are you...
Are there friends you can turn to for support, or...?
You know what my support system is saying?
That Gareth did what he did because I couldn't satisfy him.
Hey, nobody blames you.
Of course they do.
It's always the wife's fault.
I spent 40 years of my life
with a man who lied to me for 33 of them.
So why do I still set a place for him
every night?
: The big news
out of the State courthouse this morning
is that Harry Quebert,
arrested for the 1975 double murder
of Nola Kellergan and Deborah Cooper
in Sommerdale,
has been released on bail due to lack of evidence.
I'm standing on the courthouse steps
with Quebert's lawyer, Benjamin Roth.
: You mind holding this? Thank you.
Look, as I've said
from the very beginning of this ordeal...
my client is an innocent man,
and we have every faith
that Judge Havenhurst will drop the charges
in light of these new findings.
Mr. Roth! Mr. Roth!
I'm sorry, but I don't have time
for more questions.
: The biggest danger
is losing control of your own book.
It quickly goes from this private creative experience
to a public one.
And then it's not yours anymore.
You know, it's...
it's owned by everybody,
and that's... that's where you're screwed.
Let's go. Come on.
It's, uh...
not exactly the "welcome home" I was going for.
Is your car working?
Yeah.
Yeah, it's just--
Good. Climb in it.
And get the hell off my property.
Harry, you need to listen to me, okay?
Why?
Why... would you let Barnaski send those lies
about Nola to the press?
They were hacked.
Are you really that naive, Marcus?
For God's sake, Marcus, grow up.
You are not welcome here anymore.
Yes.
Take me to By The Sea Motel.
Okay. Okay. All right.
I don't want to speak to you, Roy.
I just saw the news. Are you hurt?
I'm fine.
I hope you didn't lose any valuables in the fire...
without backing them up first.
Yeah, I'm not finishing the book.
Don't be a drama queen.
Put your big-boy pants on.
Do you really think I'm that naive, Roy?
You got hacked?
No. No, no, no,
you leaked those pages for publicity, and now...
Look, people's lives are involved here, man.
I sell books, Marcus.
That's my job.
Why don't you concentrate on doing your job?
Excuse me, you can't make me.
Oh, really?
Well, I think I can.
This is America!
I own you, just like my shareholders own me.
Unless you want to return the advance
and face a breach-of-contract lawsuit.
-Come on.
You gotta be kidding me.
...just getting pulled over. Okay, great, all right.
You going somewhere, writer?
How did you find me?
There's only one Range Rover in town
with your name written in red letters
on its hood.
Ah, well, I've collected enough enemies here,
so it's time for me to leave.
Oh, you mean "quit"?
Come on, man, I thought you were a fighter.
Or do you only shadow box?
They pillaged my book.
You haven't even written it yet, all right?
You have no idea how it ends.
Relax, man.
This one could actually turn out to be, uh...
readable.
Uh-huh. You know, Sergeant,
if they ever kick you off the force,
I think you've got a real future
in motivational speaking, okay?
Excuse me.
Look, man.
The DA's blaming me
for arresting Harry too quickly.
I'm up to my neck in shit,
so I need you to grab a shovel,
help dig me out.
I want you to stay
and help me finish the investigation.
What, because I'm invaluable?
No, because you're white.
Up here in Maine, not everybody loves it
when a black guy comes knocking on their door.
Badge or no badge.
No.
No, Harry's house is in ashes, man.
Where would I sleep?
I...
Uh, with that million-dollar advance
I just read about in the paper,
I'm pretty sure you'll be able to find a roof
big enough to put over that swollen head of yours.
And cover my lunches.
I'll buy you a couple of new ties, too.
I have a gun,
you know that, right?
Asshole.
: I had six weeks to turn things around
and write a book I could be proud of.
We started the whole investigation over again...
: Why was Stern paying her to pose?
I also own a portrait of John Lennon.
Am I a suspect in his murder too?
: Rereading every police report,
witness interview, forensic analysis...
And then Pratt.
Hi, Nola!
Need a lift?
Did she threaten to talk?
Tamara Quinn had evidence.
"Nola, my darling."
I kept it in the safe at Clark's.
Who stole it?
Parents beat her... Why?
Go back to the hell you came from!
They found fingerprints on the gas cap, but no match.
Which means it was someone with no police record.
No record?
: So many divergent clues,
questions unanswered...
We still have the manuscript with the note.
Whoever wrote "Darling Nola" was no stranger.
He clearly knew the roads, the forest,
and that Harry was gone.
-Uh-huh. -Which makes him a local.
A local who drove a black Monte Carlo.
Mm-hm.
What about Caleb?
: Yeah, a Blue Mustang, not a black Monte Carlo.
Yeah, in the dark, though, you know...
Doubtful.
Luther does have a sister
who lives down in Massachusetts.
Might be worth paying her a little visit.
-Yeah.
I gotta do something first.
: It was Roth who told me
that Harry was staying in Room 8
at the By The Sea Motel.
I knew he didn't want to see me again
after what I wrote about Nola,
but I had to make things right between us...
or at least try.
I'm sorry, Harry.
About everything.
Why did you write those horrible things
about Nola?
Hmm.
This is about your legacy.
Okay, "The Origin of Evil"
is one of the most important novels--
Please, for God's sake, just shut up!
You don't understand, do you?
Understand? No, I...
Hmm.
Understand what?
Do you remember what I told you
when you were my student?
The advice I gave you?
About you never start a book
unless you know how it's going to end.
What's the ending of your book like?
I think it's a beautiful ending.
She dies at the end.
It doesn't end with her death.
Okay, there's good things can happen afterwards.
Like what?
Like the man who spent 30 years waiting for her
begins to live again.
: "To want and not to have.
To wait when there is no hope.
It's not life, but longing..."
"Great love crowns
and crucifies,
but remains eternal."
You're right,
he's a better writer than you.
Yeah.
: We found a portrait of Nola Kellergan
at Elijah Stern's house.
We know that your brother Luther painted it.
So you...
think he killed her?
He's on our list of suspects.
I've been expecting this visit for years.
And why didn't you call the police?
It's complicated.
Everything about Luther was complicated.
Growing up, he showed such promise.
Everyone said he had a gift.
This is Luther.
Or at least it was
before his life was destroyed.
This is Eleanore.
She was his high-school sweetheart.
They were gonna get married after he got out of the army.
He was walking home one night
after dropping her at her house...
Check him out!
Yes! Get him!
Come on!
Fucking redneck!
Hey, redneck!
Yeah!
Hey!
Where you going?
And he is down on the 20-yard line!
Oh!
Get him! Get him! Oh!
You're up! Show us what you got! Let's go!
You fucking redneck!
-Oh!
All right, he had enough.
Come on, let's go.
: No one ever found the boys
that did that to him.
After six months in a coma,
Eleanore left him.
He fell into a deep depression.
And he was that way for a long time.
: I'm sorry to disturb you,
but I seem to have a flat tire.
If you hadn't answered that door,
I don't know what I'd have done.
Are you a mechanic?
No.
The nail was the problem.
Ah, I see.
May I ask...
what happened to your face?
I had an accident.
I'm so sorry.
I happen to run a transport company,
and have a fair number of cars.
You wouldn't by any chance be interested in a job?
It's yours if you want it.
: That visitor was Elijah Stern.
And thanks to him, Luther became someone again.
Having a job
put meaning back into Luther's life.
: I kept all his belongings down here,
if you'd like to see them.
: These were all his paintings?
Yeah, that's what he loved to do.
That's Eleanore.
: Oh, God, she looks like Nola.
Yeah.
Your brother, he, uh...
he had a thing for blondes?
Yeah, because of Eleanore.
A way to hold on to what he'd lost.
After his accident,
Luther became a little strange with women.
They didn't always know he was drawing them.
My father was certain
that something must have happened
between him and that girl, Nola.
Luther had mentioned her name to him,
and that...
he was in love with her.
These, uh...
Is this Luther's handwriting?
His instructions for pruning roses.
You can keep it if it'll help you.
That's it.
: So in your mind,
this Nola was a manipulative seductress,
and that would make Harry Quebert...?
The real victim. Yes.
But that's ridiculous.
She was only 15.
You make it sound like
she seduced half the men in Sommerdale.
That's only because I'm not sure about the other half.
Roth. Go.
Hey!
Yeah, uh, were you watching?
I crushed it, right?
You're disgusting, Roth.
You drag everyone's name through the mud like that.
Look, I'm just doing my job, Goldman.
I mean, the only way I can clear Harry's name
is by making everybody else seem more repulsive than he is.
Let us not forget
your book is doing a bang-up job of that as well.
-Asshole.
I'm not blaming you, Marcus,
and I already knew about Jenny's crush on Quebert.
Okay.
Now, you said there was something you needed to discuss?
Yeah, um,
we got some new information about Luther Caleb.
Okay.
: We found a portrait of Nola
that he painted at Elijah Stern's house.
Um, apparently, she was a frequent guest there.
Yeah, I read about that.
I understand, um, he had a harassment complaint
filed against him.
He was a weird guy.
I don't know how dangerous he was,
but one time he got aggressive with Jenny.
Grabbed her hard, bruised her.
And why wasn't he investigated as a serious suspect?
Well, he didn't drive a black Monte Carlo,
for one thing.
And there was no obvious connection
between him and Nola at the time...
Mm-hmm.
Plus, he, uh...
he left town before she even disappeared.
Are you sure?
Yeah, I'm sure.
I, uh...
I saw him a couple days before Nola disappeared,
and he...
he knew he wasn't supposed to hang around Sommerdale,
so when I saw him driving on Shore Road, I, uh...
I pulled him over.
Look, uh...
I'm not proud of this, but I just, uh...
I lost it.
Please...
If I ever see you
prowling around Sommerdale again,
I don't care why,
your dick is gonna wish it looked like your face.
Clear?
You think he listened to you?
I never heard from him again.
Till about a month later
when I got the report
that he'd died in an auto accident.
Somewhere in Maine, I think.
Uh-huh, well, still,
it's possible that he could have hid out
without you knowing, right?
I mean, he knew the area.
If he didn't want to be seen, he could've--
I doubt it.
People were flooding into town to help search,
you know, strangers canvassing, teams of dogs,
and no one ever reported seeing Luther,
and I'd have heard about it, believe me.
Those were pretty dark times, I'm telling you.
How's the search going, Travis?
Um, haven't found anything yet, Mrs. Quinn.
It's pretty depressing.
What about Harry Quebert?
Is he a suspect?
'Cause he should be.
That's a serious accusation, Mrs. Quinn.
Unless you have some hard evidence.
Evidence, right.
The truth can go to hell without hard evidence.
What a world.
Have you eaten yet, Travis?
Um, actually...
I'll just go see if Jenny's back.
Thank you.
Jenny?
She's upstairs.
Oh, okay.
Sweetie pie?
: Hi.
Travis Dawn is downstairs.
He's such a nice boy.
He's not bad looking in the right light.
You know, I was thinking, like,
why don't you invite him to lunch with us on Sunday?
Mom...
he's not my type.
I know what your type is,
and Harry Quebert is not a nice man.
There's no future between the two of you,
believe me.
Now, we're having lunch with Travis on Sunday,
and you're gonna love it.
Now, go downstairs and thank him for the flowers,
and try not to mention they're dead.
It's the thought that counts.
Oh, great.
Come on, break time's over.
Ernie?
Hey.
Uh...
What are you doing here?
I shouldn't have said those things to you.
I had no idea you were receiving threats.
Yeah.
And-and that you didn't leave.
You're an exceptional person, Marcus.
People are gonna remember you.
Thank you, Ernie.
Thanks, man. You... you too.
No. Ha ha!
Nobody's gonna remember Ernie Pinkas.
I had my chance, though.
Yup...
When Harry was writing his book,
he promised to put me in the acknowledgements.
Oh, is that right?
Yeah.
"First name on the list," he said.
Promises are a cheap thing to some people.
You know?
Well, take care, Marcus.
Again, sorry for what I said.
How's your investigation coming along?
I found this at Goose Cove.
And these.
In case you felt like clobbering something
besides your shadow.
I love you like a son, and I always will,
but our relationship is over.
I don't understand.
I know you don't.
But when you do, it's all gonna be different.
What?
Would you stop talking in goddamn riddles?
What is...? What are you hiding?
Shit!
Let me see.
I've given you everything.
The truth is in your hands.
What the fuck is that supposed to mean?
This is "The Origin Of Evil,"
a moment I've been dreading for 33 years.
Hey, Mom, can I call you later?
Sweetie, there's a headline in the Times
that says someone wants you dead.
Should we be worried?
No, no, no.
That's just my publisher
trying to drum up publicity, okay?
Listen...
your father and I think you should get a gun.
They are very easy to get in Maine,
from what I understand.
Everyone has one.
Mom, I'm not gonna get a gun, okay?
Got you a coffee.
Who's that?
It's no one, Ma.
Hi, Mrs. Goldman.
Hello.
Look, sweetie,
I'm not gonna pry,
your love life is your own.
I just hope he's big and can protect you.
I'm real big, Mrs. Goldman.
Mom, let me just call you later, okay?
I love you.
Could you not with my mother on the phone?
I already like her better than my real mother-in-law.
Guess who I went to see last night.
Last night? Um...
Elijah Stern without me?
You're getting better at this.
Hey.
Hey, um...
I'm looking for...
Elijah?
Yes.
I'll get him.
Eli!
You got a visitor.
I guess I'll take a shower.
Good evening, Sergeant.
Come in.
Oh, my God, Stern's gay.
Mm-hm.
Said they've been together 28 years.
Then what the hell was going on between him and Nola?
Aw, gee, man, good question.
Should have asked that.
As I told you,
it was purely a business arrangement.
Meaning?
One evening that summer, it must have been July,
she rang my doorbell.
He's writing a wonderful book, a masterpiece,
but if he has to move out now, he'll never finish it,
and that would be such a waste.
You can't control who you love, Mr. Stern.
And what do you want from me,
Miss Kellergan?
I want you to hire me.
Let me work for you for as long as it takes,
so Harry can stay in Goose Cove.
Confidentially, of course.
I already have enough employees.
I'll do anything.
Would you excuse me for a moment?
Eli, please?
Could I, please--
Luther, no. Not again--
Please, please, please!
She looks like Eleanore.
Eleanore?
Yes. Please.
I am prepared to hire you, Miss Kellergan,
and to let Harry Quebert stay at Goose Cove
for as long as he wishes.
Really? Thank you--
You haven't heard what you'll be doing yet.
Anything you want, sir.
I would like to hire you as a model.
My chauffeur happens to be a very fine painter.
If you agree to pose nude for him,
Mr. Quebert can stay in the house.
I knew it was wrong,
but I established strict rules
for her protection.
I set them up in a small room right next to my office,
and I remained nearby
to make sure that he didn't try anything.
I even put an intercom in there,
so that I could make sure--
Eli...
I don't know what to say.
He never touched her.
I would never have allowed it.
: So Stern wasn't the generous benefactor
Harry thought he was.
But why would Stern let Luther do something like that?
I mean, unless...
Was there something going on between the two of them?
I mean, he assured me
that he just felt sorry for the guy.
Uh-huh.
I hired him out of pity,
and had grown fond of him.
I had hoped
that Nola would be the last,
that he would paint her,
and get whatever it was out of his system, but...
that's not what happened.
He would just... sit there,
staring at the poor girl.
Miss Kellergan, are you all right?
: One night as she left,
I took her hand, and it was cold as ice...
[Nola's footsteps retreat, door opens]
...and I just couldn't do it anymore.
But ending it wasn't that simple.
She had... awakened something in Luther,
and he'd fallen in love with his model.
He'd become consumed by jealousy...
...obsessed by Quebert,
whom he considered a competitor...
I'll be right back.
Okay.
He started spying on him at every possible moment.
One day, I followed him to Goose Cove
and saw him there, hiding.
I wanted to scare him off,
make him think he just dodged a bullet,
so I acted as if I'd just popped in to see Quebert...
You're working too hard, Quebert!
: Elijah Stern!
What a surprise to see you here!
Come on up on the deck.
: I told Luther it was done...
that the painting sessions were over,
and I forbade him to go to Sommerdale ever again.
And how did he take it?
Not well.
He continued to go, despite my warnings.
A few weeks later, we had a terrible argument.
He swore at me
before storming off and slamming the door.
That was Friday, August 29th.
When he didn't show up the next day,
I went into Sommerdale,
only to find police cars everywhere.
Nola had disappeared.
So you think it was Luther who killed Nola?
I've thought so for the last 33 years.
Right.
And you never saw Luther again?
No.
The next day, his father called,
said he'd been searching for him.
I couldn't bring myself
to tell him what had happened.
I said he was on vacation.
A month later, the police called
telling me that he'd missed a turn,
driven off a cliff.
What is this?
That is Luther Caleb's accident report.
Had an intern dig it up for me.
Yeah.
The make and model of the vehicle was left blank.
-Good job.
: Wanslow.
He was a police officer in Sagamore,
the one called to the scene when they found Luther's car.
Hey.
Officer Wanslow?
Yes, sir. How's it going?
Good, man.
Thanks for agreeing to see us, Officer.
I know it's going back a few years.
: This is one of the things
you don't forget, trust me.
I've been telling them for years
they should put a guard rail up here.
Must have been cruising pretty good
to blast through the pullout.
Ah, Jesus...
Ooh!
: We found papers on him
and determined that he was Luther Caleb.
I ran his name.
There was a harassment complaint up in Sommerdale,
and we'd all heard about the Kellergan girl,
so I called their chief of police.
He comes up right away.
We traced the license plate.
Belongs to an Augusta firm,
Stern Continental Transport.
Thank you for doing such a thorough job, Officer.
Yeah, no problem.
Yeah, I know that firm well.
Belongs to the richest man in Maine, Elijah Stern.
Unfortunately,
this isn't the vehicle I saw
during the pursuit.
What? But...
it's a black Monte Carlo just like--
I know, I know, just...
It wasn't this one.
I don't know.
I-I-I'm not really, really sure now
if it was a Monte Carlo.
Maybe it was a Nova.
Nova?
Okay...
You know, just file this as a... a standard accident,
maybe leave off the make and model.
Don't want to get everyone all excited for no reason.
We all want to find that poor girl.
Good work, Officer.
Sure. Uh, my pleasure.
So Pratt found the black Monte Carlo,
then he dismissed it?
I hear his wife kicked him out.
I'll call the station and find out where he is.
No, actually, I already know.
I think that's his truck.
Pratt?
The light's on.
There's the lady.
Excuse me.
Can you open this for us?
I can't.
Yes, you can.
No, I mean, I tried earlier.
It's bolted from the inside.
Pratt, open up!