All language subtitles for Elsbeth.S03E05.1080p.WEB.h264-ETHEL

The arts are under attack,

and we need your support now
more than ever.

It's not lost on me

how lucky we are.

I mean, the fact that
you left The Pidgeon Print

such a generous bequest
in your will,

it just...

It's a constant reminder
that the work I do matters.

That poetry is...

is life itself.

But I'm asking you today
to consider

making an additional donation.

I don't know, Gary.

It's kind of like

how you don't know

if you can publish my epic poem.

With annotations.

Well, well, your-your epic poem

is extremely... epic.

And I just don't know

-if we have the room.
-Then make room!

"Quest for Eternal Spring
or the Blood Circus,"

it's my Odyssey.

I am going to get it published

if it is the last thing I do.

I'm not getting any younger.

Oh, Delores, don't say that.

Okay.

What if I come over tomorrow?

And if you're willing
to make a few judicious cuts,

it could be perfect
for our fall issue.

-Here you are, ma'am.
-Oh, thank you.

That's so generous of you.

No, you're paying.

I want another glass of Chablis.

Don't be an imbecile and
forget the ice cubes this time.

My paycheck bounced.

-Again. I can't work for free.
-Can't?

Let's choose our words wisely.

How much did that outfit cost?

You are not allowed
to ask me that.

-I'm telling HR.
-I am HR. And if it helps,

I'm not taking a salary
right now either.

The arts are under attack.

That doesn't mean
you can take advantage of me.

No, no, I would never do that.

Not only are you
the best associate

an arts administrator
could ever ask for,

you're an integral culture maker
for the next generation.

-I am?
-Yes.

But jobs like yours
don't exist anymore

if we don't raise the money.

Hey. Maybe you could
ask your parents

to make a donation?

I already told you, I will never
ask my parents for money.

You have an entire
dental floss empire.

It is my parents' empire,
not mine.

And if you don't pay me soon,
I'm leaving.

Okay, okay, look, um...
I think things

might get better around here.

Delores was coughing up
a lung yesterday,

and she still has
that oxygen tank.

Between us, I don't think
she'll last much longer,

especially with the way
she smokes.

Why did you cut this?

Because you have
multiple other sections

about your mother's womb.

This sequence
needs a hysterectomy.

Womb X is essential
to the womb cycle.

It's where I felt

the constraints
of the gestational sac.

You really remember that?

It's a metaphor.

I'm putting it back.

A muse

only comes to me
with cigarette in hand.

Just like literary treasure
Elizabeth Bishop.

Shh.

I'm trying to work.

Hey, I've got to go
to a meeting. Um...

Have you thought any more
about our conversation?

-About the additional support?
-No.

But I did have
one other thought.

Will you take the trash
when you leave?

Fred? What are you doing here?

Oh, um, Delores Feinn

wrote this wonderfully muscular,
epic poem

that we're publishing
in Tumbleweed's fall issue.

You made fun of me
for publishing Delores

in Pidgeon Print.

Yes, it got back to me.
No, I'm not over it.

I apologize for that, but now,

I see hers is a singular voice.

Oh, cut the crap.
You're trying to poach her.

She came to me.

You were dragging your feet,
so I jumped in.

If you want to talk more,
come to our benefit on Friday.

Tumbleweed can afford
to comp you in.

What does that mean?

What have you done, Fred?

Fred.

So you're looking
for an accountant?

Well, I asked Delores to put us
in touch for a different reason.

But I understand, um,

other organizations
are asking my generous friend

for support.

I'm afraid they don't have
the best of intentions.

Gary, I can't say if my client

is planning on changing her will
when I see her next week,

but knowing what I know,

if I were you,

I'd look for alternative sources
of funding.

I haven't been able to stop
thinking about the womb cycle.

I was wrong to suggest any cuts.

-Yeah, I told you.
-I think

you should make the
gestational sac section longer.

Can you pull it up?

Oh, shoot.

I'm supposed to be
at a benefit right now.

But you should
keep writing, Delores.

Let the fires of inspiration
consume you.

Wait, wait, wait, wait.

Why are you actually here?

Oh, just because
we both run literary journals

doesn't mean that
we have to be enemies.

Now, where is that
silent auction table?

What do you want, Gary?

I was sleeping.

It's literally 6:00 p.m.

I am literally 95. I get tired.

Oh, I thought you were a
real poet like Elizabeth Bishop.

I am!

Oh, then why are you giving up?

You said yourself that
you're not getting any younger.

Don't you want to foster that
genius as you live and breathe?

Fine. Let me get to my computer
and light a cig.

911, what
is the exact address of your emergency?

Yes. I was just on the phone

with my beloved friend
Delores Feinn,

and the line suddenly went dead.

I tried calling her back,
but she's not picking up.

Can you do
a welfare check, please?

Oh.

Too late again.

Marissa. Oh, my God.

Wow. It's been years.

I know. Crazy.

I knew you were in New York,
but I have to know everything,

except where to get
a miniature hot dog in time.

Oh, here, take it.

Oh, no. You.

I've eaten way too many of these
this benefit season.

Yeah, I hear every
season is benefit season now,

considering all the cuts
in funding to everything.

That's why you should vote
for my guy, Alec Bloom.

He wants to make the city
affordable for everyone,

including nonprofit workers.

Are you talking about me?

Of course I'm talking about you.
It's all I do.

-Oh.
-Straighten your tie.

So, you're Marissa's guy.
How cute.

Oh, no, not like that.
I'm Alec's campaign manager.

I am perpetually single,
much to Marissa's dismay.

We need the female vote,

and the women of New York

tend to mistrust attractive men
who aren't partnered up.

They've caused too much damage.

Wait, I thought
you were a lawyer now.

Yeah, that was when
the law still existed.

Now, I'm following in
my father's conniving footsteps.

-Ooh.
-How do you two know each other?

Oh, uh, Chicago.

We had some good years
together. Okay.

Let's go through your speech.
I've made some edits.

-But I'm so hungry.
-Oh, take this.

-But that's yours.
-No, no, no. I insist.

I love a good New York dog,

but I still miss the ones
in Chicago.

I recognize a true connoisseur.

I tell you what,
split this one with me,

and then tell me
you still miss Chicago.

Okay.

Okay.

I don't miss Chicago.

Am I crazy?
Or am I sensing a vibe here?

What? No.

Uh-huh.

-Okay, we got to go.
-Mm-hmm.

So nice to see you, Elsbeth.

I hope you enjoyed meeting
the future mayor of New York.

Oh. Bye.

That Alec Bloom
is quite charming, isn't he?

He's something, all right.

And here I was thinking
you were my date.

-Platonically, of course.
-Yes.

-Well, that's how I feel about him, too.
-Mm.

I-I just met the man.

I don't even know
if I want to be his friend.

Elsbeth Tascioni,
are you blushing?

-No! Stop.
-Huh?

I'm just excited because
I ran into a friend

-from the good old days.
-Oh.

-Enjoy.
-Ah. Here we go.

Another benefit,

another droopy salad
followed by unseasoned chicken.

Mm.

If you're sitting in this room,

you don't need me
to tell you how important

the Coalition
for Unhoused Children is.

You already know.

You may have read
that I was unhoused, too,

when I was a kid.

I don't want
to dwell on it because

my parents did their best.

I just want you to know
how much I actually mean it

when I say we must

make this city affordable again
for everyone.

Enjoying your unseasoned
chicken, Dr. Yablonsky?

It might be fish,
but who could tell?

It's so nice running into you.

I have to come to these things
all the time for work,

but your generosity
is inspiring.

Oh, and I've been meaning
to send you my condolences.

You were so good
to Delores Feinn.

-An oxygen tank explosion.
-Oh.

-What a way to go.
-I was on the phone

with her when it happened.

I heard her light a cigarette,

and then this
loud, terrible boom.

The police must've
talked to you for hours.

N-No, no, not really.
They knew it was an accident.

Who knew it was an accident?

-Some cop?
-Oh, pardon me.

I'm being rude. This is
my friend Elsbeth Tascioni.

She works on a consent decree
with the NYPD,

which may explain her curiosity.

Gary is director
of The Pidgeon Print.

His journal maintains
impeccably high standards,

which is why I sit on the board.

Did this Delores Feinn
sit on the board, too?

No, but she was a big supporter.

She was a chronic smoker,

despite having an oxygen tank
with her at all times.

She must've forgotten
to close the valve.

I always thought that
I would lose her to cigarettes,

but not like this.

Now, if you'll excuse me,
I should make the rounds.

Go, go, go.

I feel awful. I always suspected

that Delores never actually used
her oxygen tank.

What do you mean?

Well, the regulator gauge
was always full.

I told so many people
she only used it

to get corner tables
in restaurants.

-But you're a doctor.
-Mm.

You know oxygen tanks.

What if you weren't wrong?

Captain.

This is the coverage
on Delores Feinn from last week.

I think they ruled this
an accident way too fast.

-Uh-huh.
-According to the article,

Delores's net worth
was rumored to be upwards

of $200 million.

And she had no children
or heirs.

Uh-huh.

So, a lot of people
must've wanted

to get their hands on her money.

Yeah, sure.

If Dr. Yablonsky was right,

and Delores didn't even use
her oxygen tank,

then I think
it's highly unlikely

that she... whoops...
accidentally removed the valve.

Hmm...

Captain!

I'd like to look into this
further, but I need a detective.

Rivers, get over here.

Uh... Yes, sir.

You're going on this case
with Elsbeth.

But, Daddy, we were
about to go to lunch.

Eat a sandwich in the car.

Uh, yes, sir.
Uh, what-what is the case?

How often do you think
oxygen tanks

just blow up by themselves?
Not very often, right?

Uh, literally all the time.

Yeah. Uh,

but I-I-I respect your opinion,

you know, not only as a woman
in the workplace,

but as mandated
by the consent decree.

Okay. Uh, can you dig
into the accident report?

I'm gonna go pay a visit
to someone.

-Elsbeth.
-Marissa.

-I'd love to run an idea by you.
-I love ideas.

I think Alec might have a woman
problem, electorally speaking.

You mentioned that, but what
does that have to do with me?

I think you two
should have dinner.

I can get you into Via Carota,
corner table,

followed by orchestra seats
to Oh, Mary!

Oh, boy. Um, look, that, uh,

that does sound like
a lot of fun, but

I'm just not really looking
to get into a relationship.

Is this even coming from Alec?

I'm in the driver's seat when
it comes to Alec's meetings,

policy moves, and overall image.

-Isn't that everything?
-You two seemed to hit it off.

And he's pretty charming, right?

Did you know
he's a former fire marshal?

-Oh, Lord.
-It's more than that.

Your consent decree
is kind of a "magic bullet"

to position him well
on policing for the electorate.

He wants to see how the system
can be changed from within.

-What do you say?
-Um...

I am in my
"say yes to new friends" era.

-Perfect. I'll set a date.
-Okay.

Read your texts promptly.
Thank you.

Oh. Uh... Can I,
uh, help you with that?

-Oh, no. You're fine.
-Oh.

Just rethinking
the feng shui in here.

-Oh.
-Excuse me. And you are?

Uh, Elsbeth Tascioni.
I'm here to see Gary.

I'll show you in. I'm Hannah
Lee, the associate director.

Do associate directors
of prestigious literary journals

always move around
heavy furniture by themselves?

The arts are under attack,
and I am happy to help.

Especially because
I just got a raise.

Wow. It is so impressive
that you have the resources

to redecorate and give raises,

especially
in this current landscape.

The arts are under attack.

So I heard.

But we're lucky to have
generous and loyal donors.

Like Delores Feinn?

Elsbeth, right?
You work with the NYPD?

It's my job to make sure that
the police do their job,

and I just want to confirm
they did their due diligence

with your friend.

Um...

Do you remember
what you two were talking about

on the phone the night she died?

Poetry.

Delores was a poet herself.

That's why she was so invested

in our press.

We lost a great talent.

Oh, did she always write in
this cute little nook?

She liked to sit
in the same spot,

there with her cigarette,
like Elizabeth Bishop,

an important poet,
and Pulitzer winner.

Delores seemed so impressive.

Uh, well, except
for the smoking part.

Cigarettes were an unfortunate
part of her writing process.

You seem to know
a lot about that.

I was her editor.

Oh... Did you edit
in this little nook?

Always. It's what she wanted.

Not everyone is so generous
with their time for the elderly.

I bet you were the only
other person who spent time

in that apartment.

No. Actually, uh,

Delores had visitors
all the time.

I ran into Fred Harrison
there recently.

Fred runs a struggling

literary journal, Tumbleweed.

I was at his benefit
the night of the accident.

That's kind of you, too,

especially since you and Fred
must compete

for the same donors.

Oh, well, we have to
stick together.

There's so few of us left

who really appreciate
the art of poetry.

Yeah. I'm not well-versed
in it.

No pun intended.

Um, but someone once read Keats

out loud to me, and...

it made me cry.

-Keats can do that.
-Delores, too, I bet.

You devoted
all these pages to her.

She must've been
a literary genius.

Hey, can you read
some of her work

out loud to me?

Oh, uh, poetry
lives on the page.

But I love to hear
the music of the words.

And since you love her
so much, I'm sure you'll

do her justice.

Um, how about the one called
"Nipples of the Sea."

"The cerulean

"azure waves

"Crash into the creamy

"solar plexus of my eyes

"That are also a

"Screaming mirror

"shattered.

"A pussy willow bleeds
on the moon."

"Or is it a wolf?"

"Both things can be true."

Okay.

But don't cerulean and azure

both mean blue?

And why is the
pussy willow wolf bleeding

on the moon?

Is she hurt?

Why is it even called
"Nipples of the Sea"?

It's a metaphor.

Are you sure?

I studied with Jorie Graham

at Harvard.
Do you know who that is?

Uh, respectfully, I don't.

I'm sorry, but if

you can't feel
the visceral catharsis

of Delores's art, that's on you.

Wow.

Guess you're right.
Uh, can I take this with me?

I feel like I need to read
more of her work

and educate myself.

There's hope for you yet.

Great.

Thanks.

"A pussy willow
bleeds on the moon

"Or is it a wolf?

Both things can be true."

Oh, yeah, this is terrible.

-I knew it.
-Yeah.

Uh, cerulean and azure
both mean blue.

-Yeah.
-And why is

"both things can be true"
in all caps?

And why is it even called
"Nipples of the Sea"?

Nobody knows.

I knew Delores's poetry was bad.

Gary made me feel
so stupid about it.

Yeah, well, clearly,

money was the only reason
he published her.

And maybe
the reason he killed her.

Well, as you said, a lot of
people were after her estate.

Are there no other suspects?

Well, Gary did conveniently
mention someone named Fred

who came to the apartment.

Sir, I spoke to the maître d'
at Satina.

Ooh, that's the restaurant
Delores went to a lot.

Yeah, I was getting to that.

But I value
your perspective, Elsbeth,

because I believe all women.

Has HR not updated
their training since 2017?

-I like it.
-Okay, uh, so, anyways,

he confirmed that Delores

always got the best table
when she would come in

because her oxygen tank
was so big.

Yeah, it was the only table
that could accommodate it.

-Did he ever see her use it?
-No.

I also checked
with the pharmacy.

Even though she was prescribed
oxygen in 2022,

there is no record of her
ever refilling it.

So, Dr. Yablonsky was right.

She only used
the oxygen tank for show.

And I spoke with
the fire marshal...

He sends his best
to you, Elsbeth.

He said it takes

several hours for oxygen
to saturate the air,

even in an enclosed space
with no ventilation.

Like Delores's writing nook.

Which means Gary Pidgeon
could've loosened that valve

hours before Delores
sparked an explosion,

knocking down his alibi.

Not so fast.

All the information is good,

but it doesn't lead to murder
if you can't prove

that the oxygen tank
was tampered with.

And Delores Feinn
was a very elderly woman.

Why hasten her death?

The arts are under attack.

An oxygen tank explosion?

These cases sound dangerous.

Is it hard
for your loved ones to deal?

My son Teddy is
the strongest person I know.

-And your husband?
-Oh, they're so divorced.

Long before I started
this work.

-Boyfriend?
-He, um...

he had a hard time.

I mean, not about this.

It was a long-distance thing.

Hey.

You're that guy
running for mayor.

I'm not voting for you,

but is there any way
I can get a selfie?

I'll take the photo
if you tell us

why you aren't voting for Alec.

Well, I work for the MTA.

How is he gonna run that
with no experience?

I hear that.

And if I knew me
as little as you knew me,

I'd probably vote
for the other guy, too.

Hell, knowing me as well
as I do, I might still vote

for the other guy. But...

Here's the thing.

I do have experience.

I slept on the F Train
on cold winter nights

when I was a kid,
when I didn't have a home.

There was
this conductor named Pete.

-Would always buy me a sandwich.
-Wait a minute.

Pete?

I think I know him.

Hey. That's...

We got to toast to Pete then.

This is on Alec.
But it's not a bribe,

just to be clear.

-To Pete.
-To Pete.

So can we count on your vote?

Yeah. We might be screwed
either way,

but you're the better choice.

Psychologically.

We'll take it.

-You are so good at this.
-Aw.

-Both of you.
-I just keep

telling him to be authentic.

And I authentically love talking
to New Yorkers.

Me, too.

I love this city.

The people. The subway.

Central Park. Times Square.

Ew.

Hey. Times Square rules.

That's where The Lion King is.

I love The Lion King.

I've seen The Lion King
four times.

Me, too.

I'm empowering a philistine.

Wait, have you been
on the hip-hop bus tour?

Love it! Have you been

to the restaurant where
the-the waiters

-croon musical numbers?
-Yes!

Do you know Cooper? He came
to my housewarming party.

I love Cooper
the singing waiter.

♪ I'll take Manhattan ♪

♪ The Bronx
and Staten Island, too! ♪

Do you really like all
these things as much as I do?

How do I know
you're not being...

Clintonian?

Alec is the real deal.

I wouldn't be here if he wasn't.

And I can prove it.

Here's Alec in front
of the Lion King marquee

in four different outfits.

Here's him
on the hip-hop tour bus.

And here he is getting serenaded
by Cooper at brunch last month.

Gosh, I wish it was always this
easy to prove things.

You want some free advice?
Always keep a record.

Delores Feinn
was wined and dined

by every nonprofit organization
in New York.

Though I always wondered if
the juice was worth the squeeze.

Meaning what?

She never gave any money?

-No. Not once.
-Not even

-to Gary?
-I doubt it.

But it was widely known
she planned to leave Pidgeon

a large sum in her will.

That's why I was so surprised
to see Gary at my benefit.

We had a
little fight a few days before,

where he accused me
of trying to poach her.

Well, were you trying
to poach her?

I wasn't trying. I did.

I made an offer to publish
her epic poem with annotations,

and, in exchange,
she offered to change her will.

Sadly, she passed a week
before going to her accountant

to seal the deal.

So why would you kill Delores

when you needed her
to stay alive a week longer?

-Exactly.
-Did Gary

-know about this?
-Discretion

is important in our business.

But, yeah,
I'm sure he did the math.

-That must've made him mad.
-Oh, honey,

we're all mad.

The arts are under attack.

Nobody buys books anymore.

Ooh, it all feels hopeless.

But Gary didn't seem hopeless.

Last time I saw him,
he was redecorating his office.

You know, you're right.

He was in such a great mood
the night of my benefit.

He even bid $12K on a trip
to the Left Bank in Paris.

-And he won.
-How did he afford that?

He must have been expecting
some money to come in.

Hey.

I went to a benefit, too,

and the silent auction
was all done digitally

on people's phones.

Do you have time stamps for
when all the bids were placed?

Why, hello!

Heard you were going on a trip.

But how

are you buying
such expensive luggage

when the arts are under attack?

Are you following me?

Hannah told me
where you'd be shopping.

Oh, how thoughtful of her.
But, no, I'm not shopping.

I'm just browsing
to clear my head

in between applying for grants.

-How can I help you, Elsbeth?
-Oh.

I was wondering
if I could see your phone.

You told the police
that you called Delores back

after the line went dead.

And if that's the case,
then that would be

-on your call log, right?
-Uh, well,

I guess you'll just have
to take my word for it.

Unless you have a warrant?

See, um...

thought you'd say that.

Which is why I got
Delores's phone records.

And I won't take your word
for it

because
you didn't call her back.

And I think that's because
you knew she was dead.

I didn't call her back

because I was waiting
for her to call me back.

And when she didn't,
I knew that something was wrong

and I thought
a little poetic license

would get the cops' attention
a little faster.

Mm.

That's very considerate of you.

But Fred said that you bid on
a luxurious Left Bank vacation

at his silent auction.

-You talked to Fred?
-And according to

the bidding time stamps,
you did that minutes after

Delores's time of death.

Everyone knew she was leaving
you something big in her will.

And it seemed like you were sure
that payday was coming

when you offered up that...

$12K?

This is so vulgar.

I loved Delores
for her artistic spirit.

I wasn't thinking
about her money that night,

just her well-being.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I have to get back to work.

And...

talking about this accident

is really upsetting.

I am not so sure
it was an accident.

Delores didn't use
her oxygen tank

except to get the best tables
at nice restaurants.

Are you sure?

She never refilled
the prescription.

We have to find out
who did this.

Even though proving someone
tampered with an oxygen tank

when Delores died
tragically alone

sounds... incredibly difficult.

Difficult but not impossible.

Well, best of luck, Elsbeth.

What a tragedy.

I'm just so thankful
that I can lean on my community

in times like this.

Oh, yes.

You all seem so...

supportive of each other

and not cutthroat
or competitive at all.

Oh, hey,

maybe I'll see you at
the reading of Delores's will.

They're always public.

Mm.

Up to this moment,
I've been the only person

who's had access to all
of Delores's financial records.

This won't... take long.

"I, Delores Drusilla Feinn,

"being of sound mind,

"do bequeath something to help
The Pidgeon Print survive

for generations to come."

"My unpublished poetry."

But that's not all.

Oh. Oh. Oh.

"I also leave the amount of

"$413.17,

less accounting fees."

The...

gift of her words is...

so much more
than I could have ever imagined.

What about the rest

of her estate?

I'm sorry.

That's it.

There's nothing else.

That's all she had.

And her apartment?

It was rent-controlled.

She paid $250 a month.

And she could only afford it

because she had all of you
paying for her meals.

Well,

Gary didn't get any money, so...

there goes your motive.

But he thought he would.

Yeah, well, try proving that.

Captain.

What is this?

I dug up some photos
of oxygen tank explosions.

Notice how some of the victims
have discoloration

-on the fabric of their sleeves.
-Mm.

Why would that be?

No, I mean what is this?

"Mysterious redhead."

Isn't that...

you?

-You and Alec Bloom?
-We met.

What?

We talked. Uh, that's all.

We had a nice time
at the-the... thing.

Can we focus on Gary
and not Alec, please?

Are you saying this
because you're deflecting

or because you're that sure
he did it?

Both things can be true.

Why did you

fire Hannah?

I saw her leaving
with a box of her things.

I had to let go of Hannah

because of
unexpected budget cuts.

As in you expected to get money
in Delores's will

and you didn't?

Actually, I've been diving
into the unpublished works

of Delores.

It's been the only thing

inspiring me in these...

hectic and dark times.

I know what you mean.

I read this cover to cover,
and, um,

I was so moved that...

...I wrote
some poetry of my own.

Do you think that you could, um,

give me some feedback?

I would love
to be published by you.

And, um, you must be looking
for new donors.

Sure...

Elsbeth.

Read it to me.

Really?

Wow. Um...

This is called
"Emotional W."

And that is with a "W."

Mm.

"Father.

"Father. Father.

"Father?

"Father.

"Father. Father.

"Father. Father.

"Shoe rack.

"Mouse.

Saddam Hussein."

That was terrible.

Don't sugarcoat it.

I want to learn.

It gestures to Sylvia Plath

in a way that makes me want
to put my head in an oven.

It lacks any technique
or structure

or emotional resonance.

And, frankly, your voice is
the word salad of a toddler.

So you hate it?

So much.

And how dare you

dangle your support as a way
to get yourself published

by my press.

I have standards.

Do better.

That's very interesting,
because...

I actually didn't...

write that poem.

Delores did.

She submitted it

to Fred at Tumbleweed.

You lied?

Just used
a little poetic license.

You were expecting something
in that will, Gary.

That is the only reason
you would publish

a voice that you hated so much.

Well, who cares if I hated it?!

The entire point of my job
as the director of a nonprofit

is to keep it alive!

So you lied?

I was cultivating.

I was trying
to encourage Delores

to donate to a worthy cause.

But that doesn't mean
that I killed her.

It means that I debased myself
in service to that goal!

Why? Because this world doesn't
care about the finer things.

Because this world
doesn't understand nonprofit.

Because profit is the only thing
this world cares about!

Gary, what's happening
in your field is awful.

It really is.

But I know that somebody

tampered with that oxygen tank,

and there must be

some way to prove it.

I'm sorry about the
misunderstanding in the paper,

but that's the press.

Yeah. But maybe when you
get a chance,

you can clarify to the press
that we're not an item?

Um, I'm afraid that's a no.

New York View
hasn't endorsed us,

but they love gossip.

"Mysterious redhead" is
a good story for our campaign.

But I don't want to be
the mysterious redhead.

I have important work to do.

Marissa, we've known
each other a long time.

I...

I thought I was your friend.

I-I don't want
to be a story or...

a pawn.

I'm sorry. You're right.

I don't want to be that person.

Don't worry.
We'll take care of it.

Phew.

Glad we got that out of the way.

Now we can relax. Oh.

-Want to see if Cooper's singing tonight?
-That sounds like fun,

but there's something else
I wanted to talk to you about.

As a candidate?

As a former fire marshal.

Hey, Steve.

I'm here to pick up
a box Delores left for me.

Oh. Yeah.

You know, I read some of it.

There's a lot going on there.

Sure is.

Beautiful.

-Thanks.
-So, I guess

they're investigating this
as a homicide now.

What?

-How do you know?
-Redheaded woman

who works with the NYPD

came by the other day
to look through these.

Said that she was getting
a warrant to check the clothes

of anybody who went
into Delores's apartment

the day of the explosion.

Something about how oxygen
discolors fabric.

I got to go.

I need my tweed jacket.

Ticket, please.

My assistant has it,
but I had to fire her.

So she's not speaking to me.

Not my problem.

I need you to find it. Now.

I...

This is what it looks like.

Please! I'm begging you.

I don't see it.

Listen to me.

My life

depends on me
finding that jacket.

Do you understand?

If the wrong people
get their hands on it,

my life, my-my press, is over.

Your jacket isn't here, Gary.

Hannah gave us the ticket
so we could send it to the lab

-for testing.
-What lab?

Why does my jacket need testing?

Because you murdered
Delores Feinn

after you found out you were
losing her to Tumbleweed.

That's not true.

Delores was important to me.

Only because you thought
you were in her will.

And you killed her
before she could change it.

You still think I tampered
with Delores's oxygen tank?

I was at Fred's benefit
the night she died.

Remember?

I couldn't have killed her

and have been on the phone
with her.

That just means
that you left before she...

lit a cigarette.

Oxygen can take hours

to saturate the air.

When you called her back
later that night though,

she picked up, alive.

And that's when you coaxed her
into her writing nook.

This is preposterous.

As her editor, you knew

if you could just get Delores
to write,

she would make her way

to that same spot,

light up...

And boom.

But if it weren't for

a certain former fire marshal
telling me

how oxygen discolors
the fibers on fabric,

I never would have thought
to check the sleeves

of your tweed jacket.

Oh, uh, by the way,

I'm the one
who told Steve the doorman

to tell you about the warrant.

Because I really needed
to get you here...

...so that I could read you
this little poem

that I actually wrote.

Okay.

"The sleeves of your jacket
are faded,

"but they are supposed to be...

"plaided.

"Just admit it, pal,

"you opened the valve

"and Delores fell
for the trap you...

baited."

Just because it sort of rhymes

doesn't mean it's poetry.

And your meter is a mess.

Oh, yeah. That may be true.

But, Gary, the discoloration
on your sleeves proves

that your jacket
was exposed to oxygen

when you...

Tampered with the tank.

Oh, Delores
was torturing me for years.

And she didn't even have
any money.

I'm glad I killed her.

Ah.

May, can we please have
Gary's jacket now?

W-Wait, what's going on here?

I thought you said
my jacket was at the lab.

Oh. Sorry.

That was poetic license.

As was the warrant.

Pure oxygen can discolor fabric

when it's exposed
to cleaning supplies.

But Delores never cleaned
her oxygen tank

because she never used it.

So, as you can see...

...your jacket's fine.

-Too bad you already confessed though.
-Mm.

Gary Pidgeon,

you are under arrest

for the murder of Delores Feinn.

You know, maybe you would've

realized that I was bluffing

if you knew more
about chemistry.

But science

is under attack!

What's gonna happen
to The Pidgeon Print?

I mean, Gary
may have been a murderer,

but the press was
a literary treasure.

Oh, it lives on.

Their Instagram announced

that Hannah Lee
is taking over as director,

thanks to a special endowment
from Lee Dental Floss.

Mm.

Hey, you.

Ready for lunch?

You know, Captain,

Detective Rivers
really listened to me,

and he backed me up this time.

That's my man.

Sounds like the results
of mandatory HR training to me.

Hi!

Hey. I wanted
to run something by you.

Oh. Yeah, I wanted
to run something by you, too.

Why hasn't Alec
made a statement saying

that he and the mysterious
redhead are just friends?

Because I won't let him.

Don't tell Alec,

but I'm the one who leaked
the photos in the first place.

You?

I said I didn't want
to be that person.

Turns out, I am that person.

I need you
to listen to me carefully.

It's super important
that you don't make any moves

or talk to anyone about this
unless I tell you to.

Elsbeth Tascioni,

the future of New York
is in your hands.

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