Original subtitles

I really am a brilliant detective, aren't I?

One of the greatest.

Miss Marple,

Jessica Fletcher...

and Selena St. Cloud...

Why are you here, Selena?

Because I want to know...

why you are ruining me, you commercial hack.

Here we go.

And now I have a s/igekick

who thinks she's smarter than I am?

She's not "smarter" than you.

I don't need a partner, Allison.

Unless...

...iIt's a different kind of partner.

Jack?

Allison.

Why are you here?

I'm here

because I have wanted you since the day I met you,

and I think...

...you've wanted the exact same thing.

I have no idea what you're talking about.

So, then...

tell me to go.

I think you should go.

Oh, you're up early.

- I've been up all night. - I hope it wasn't

because you were sex-texting

someone I know or gave birth to.

The word is "sexting,"

and, actually, I was doing research for our outline,

which we only have four days left to write,

since you've completely blown off the first three.

I haven't blow them off.

I needed to buy a new car since my old one blew up--

... which you may remember

happened after the murder at my house...

which, you might recall,

was after Nash Gilbert was pushed off a balcony.

The point is, none of that has anything to do

with finding a murder for Selena and Raven Stone.

"Raven Stone"?

Selena's new assistant--

the one who keeps her boss grounded in forensic reality.

I don't remember naming her Raven Stone.

Which is exactly why

you and I are getting out of here

for the next four days,

because if we stay,

you're gonna end up

taking up, like, Mandarin or something--

...and wait until the last second

to spit something out.

That's how I do it.

Now we have to figure out

how we're going to do things together.

I'v e m ad e h ot el re S e rv at To n S

You've got ten minutes to pack.

I'm guessing Paris?

Nothing gets my mind working

like a trip through the Musee d'Orsay.

As much as I'd love

to use my French passport,

I've booked something

a little more...

local.

You have a French passport?

Nine minutes to pack!

No, no, no, no, no.

Uh-uh!

In summer camp...

I had a terrible experience with a sack of spider eggs.

I'm gonna give you my credit card,

and you're gonna find a place with more stars.

Oh, I already used your credit card.

Look at this place. It's-- it's perfect!

There's nothing to do, but write.

Hello, ladies.

Welcome to Granite Creek Chalets.

You've scored our two best cabins.

The ones with running water and electricity?

Ah, you even got your own In-room crapper.

Just be sure to yank the chain hard.

Oh, but not too hard.

Ahh.

If I had a dime for every time a guy said that to me...

The keys are under the mat.

Okay.

Here you go--

I told you it was perfect!

How much lawn does that man have?

Please focus.

I can see Ladybell Landing!

8) -

Oh, they've got patio dining...

and a pool!

Oh!

Write first, spa later-- that was our deal.

Come on!

I've shown you, like, over a dozen homicides

for inspiration,

and none of them have wowed you.

Because we need a crime

that builds the relationship between Selena and Rhonda.

- "Raven." - That's what I said.

We need to find something

that showcases the-- the push and pull between them,

a... a crime

where they don't see eye-to-eye.

We don't see eye-to-eye, so that shouldn't be a problem.

Okay.

The problem is...

we don't really know who Raven is yet.

Okay.

Raven Is smart...

she's tough...

And she's been through a lot, hasn't she?

Look, I'm not getting into the stuff about my mom,

if that's where you think this is going.

It's compelling, Andi--

having a mother...

who not only disappears,

but then erases all trace of her past?

W-What do you mean by, "erases all trace of her past"?

Um... nothing.

I was just, you know, building character.

Like, riffing. [t's what fiction writers do.

We don't have to use any of it.

Let's just get back to the murder. So--

No. No, no, no, no, no.

If you know something about my mom,

I want you to spit it out.

Fine.

I asked Jack to do a little digging.

You did what?

Not only is there no record of Renée Walker

since she disappeared...

there's no record at all--

no birth certificate, no nothing.

It's like she never existed.

I can't believe you'd intrude on my privacy like this.

What privacy?

You post Instagram photos of everything you eat.

You tweeted about your U.T.I.

while you were giving a urine sample!

Your entire life is on social media.

Not this part of my life.

I was just trying to help, Andi.

You weren't getting anywhere by yourself,

and it has to be on your mind.

It has to be,

because you bring that blanket that she made

everywhere you go.

How do you know my mom made that?

First, it's obviously handmade,

because the stitches are not even,

and it has a custom tag in the corner.

And second, it's old,

because the yarn is starting to fuzz,

and third,

you just admitted it.

I never asked you for your help.

But you want to know what happened to her, don't you?

Of course I do!

Then what is the problem?

You're the problem!

Why am I the problem?

Because you don't see me

digging around in your private life like this!

Because my private life isn't private,

thanks to the Internet.

You don't hear me whining about it!

W-- oh, my God! You don't get it, do you?

This is my cabin.

You go!

I am not going anywhere, and you are not either.

I need some privacy! I mean It.

Okay, fine, have it your way,

but we still need a murder,

and-and it just needs to service--

...Character and relationship, yeah, I know--

...See ya.

Jack?

That's right.

You're staying here until you can find a place.

Exactly.

And you're here because--?

It's a long story.

Well...

...1 got time.

- Whatever. - All right.

- Thank you. - That's mine.

Thank you.

You're welcome.

Ahem. So, my publisher wants a new Selena St. Cloud novel--

NO More true crime--

so we had to chuck everything and start over.

- Oh! - And Andi thinks

that I will concentrate better

away from the distractions of my home.

Good plan.

I don't know about that.

Oh, I do. Your life is so filled with distractions,

honestly, I have no idea how you get anything done.

Sometimes, I think it's a part of my process.

I mean, not thinking about something

IS the best way to think about it.

The more I try to not think about something...

...the more I do.

Something... like what?

You and Andi getting work done?

NO.

Um...

I told her about what you found out about her mother,

and now she's mad at me

because I didn't respect her privacy.

- Oh. - But she said

she had a French passport,

so I thought maybe the mom was born in France.

I'm guessing you didn't check the international database?

- I did not. - But you could.

Mm-hmm.

But, see, I'm no psychologist--

Oh? ...but it occurs to me,

that if Andi wants you to stay out of this...

I'm already on her shit-list.

- Oh! - I got nothing to lose.

She really wants to know what happened to her mom.

And so do you, for some reason.

The question is, why?

I like a good mystery.

- That's not why. - Okay, fine.

A shrink would say she's the daughter I never had,

or my mom never helped me.

I don't know. Could be either.

Or both.

Hey, Dave!

You just doing your final walk-through?

Ah. With you here, I don't know why I bother.

It's like having free armed security.

See ya.

A pool...

pool.

A pool.

Oh.

You didn't answer my question.

Must've missed it.

Mm, you don't miss anything.

That's the exact opposite of what you say to me

every time you stumble into one of my crime scenes.

So are you gonna tell me

the thing that you can't stop thinking about?

Ohh...

Oh... Oh, my God!

8) -

Shit!

Shit, shit, shit! Shit, shit, shit!

Oh, oh! Hey!

- Oh! - Oh!

I saw a murder!

Oh, God!

What the hell IS wrong with you?

I didn't see the killer--

I just saw the necktie going around the victim's neck

as he was strangled to death!

I hope I'm not being too forward--

- Where? - On your thigh.

What? No! Where-- Where did you see a murder?

Ladybell Landing! Third floor.

Uh, maybe second or third window over.

Also, Jack, what are you doing here?

I know. I ask myself the same question.

Wait, how can you see a murder at Ladybell Landing from here?

I have binoculars.

You were peeping into people's windows?

The point is, there's a guy dead,

so we should probably hurry.

Are you sure you didn't just nod off

while you were typing?

I wasn't dreaming!

I-I saw a dark-blue bedspread and two hideous lamps,

and a-a phallic painting of a lighthouse,

but most importantly,

I saw a guy getting strangled to death

with a striped tie!

Okay, okay, we'll check it out,

but let me handle it.

Okay.

Easy, Nancy Drew.

Oh!

Oh, morning. Yes. What time is it?

I'll have breakfast in a few moments, with scones.

No, no, it's not yet morning.

Listen, I'm sorry to disturb you.

I'm Detective Jack Kerrigan.

Oh, dear. Is there something wrong?

Well, we have a report of a violent incident

in one of the upstairs rooms.

Not another raccoon in the laundry chute?

More like a homicide.

Oh! Thank goodness.

Those raccoons are impossible to get rid of.

All right, well, we need to check it out. Is that okay?

Oh, certainly, but you should know--

this is a more of a... a weekend getaway spot.

We don't do homicides here.

There's always a first time!

Okay, this has gotta be the one.

The second window over.

Oh, it's, uh, registered to, uh...

Kim Morrison.

All right.

Ms. Morrison?

Oh! Uh... oh, wow.

Is this because I didn't pay for the minibar snacks?

What? No. It's--

No, it's because of the corpse in your room!

Did she say "corpse"?

Oh, uh, forgive my friend. She's prone to night terrors.

Uh...

This is-- this is the wrong room.

It's gotta be the next one over.

Uh, did you happen to hear or see

anything disturbing this evening?

No. Did something happen?

It's gotta be this one.

Is it safe to stay here?

Look, we don't foresee

any cause for concern at this point.

Sorry for disturbing you, Ms. Morrison. Hey!

[t's this one. I was off by one window.

You can't just go barging

Into people's rooms uninvited ike that.

You can't, but I can.

Room 309? It's empty.

They've not checked in yet.

Great!

This is the room!

Okay? He was standing right there.

Where's the body?

It's gotta be here somewhere.

No sign of a struggle.

- Nothing in the bathroom? - No.

Okay, okay. The body's gone.

But I know what I saw!

Check for DNA. You've gotta find something.

Okay, let's, uh, let's just be logical about this.

The last thing I told you was to come up with a murder,

so you fell asleep, and you dreamt one up.

I'm telling you...

I saw a murder.

Okay, so you're telling me we have a no-body homicide.

It anything happened in this room,

they'll find it.

Did you find anything?

Nothing.

You didn't find anything?

NO evidence that a murder occurred in that room

or that that room was recently scrubbed-- nothing.

So you both think I'm crazy?

NO.

- I mean, no. - Of course not.

Look, it was late at night.

Could this be exhaustion?

No! It wasn't. I was awake!

I saw him die.

You think I'm making this up, don't you?

No. No, I-I believe that you believe it, but...

Are you taking...

the Polly?

You know, like in the glerb-- wikka-wikka-wikka-week!

It's Molly!

And no! I'm not!

[t's not a bad idea

if Selena and her assistant are at odds

Over d Case where there's no body.

But there was a body. That's the whole point!

Exactly! That's exactly what Raven can say to Selena.

Raven has a /ot she could say to Selena.

Come on!

We're not getting anything done,

and we've been at it all morning.

We need to do something different.

I'm not learning Mandarin.

We're going clamming!

What?

We are going clamming! Ah-ha-ha!

What? Ew, no!

Yes, yes, yes! Please. Trust me.

I used to do it as a kid!

And when we get back,

I'll fix us a vongole to die for.

Nobody's gonna die. - You're not gonna

shut up about this until I agree to go, are you?

NO.

I got everything you need! Huh?

Waders...

buckets!

I even got a laminated tide chart.

Clammin's the reason I bought this place!

Oh! Well, it brings back memories for mel!

My grandpa used to eat the clams right out of the shell.

Ahh. That's the part I'm gonna miss the most.

So... what?

Moving to Florida?

Oh, it's time!

[-I sold out to a-a hotel chain.

I'm looking forward to year-round sun,

shuffleboard--

and no more septic issues.

Have fun, huh?

- We will! - All right.

And then the water comes and...

Oh, dig in there!

Ah! Ahh...

Look at that baby! Huh? Hmm?

You've got to admit that this is a lot better

than arguing in a--

Oh, I'm so sorry. I lost my balance.

No. No worries. I'm a little unsteady on my feet, too.

[t's the tide. - Yeah.

Hey, aren't you

Allison Chandler,

the author of the Selena St. Cloud novels?

Not lately.

Yes! I am.

We're here on a writer's retreat.

We're trying to get an outline done--

as you can probably tell.

I love Selena!

So keep up the great work.

Thank you. Bye!

You should follow her advice.

And you should give this a try!

That's not gonna happen.

I'm gonna try right over here.

Whoa! Oh!

- Ah! - Oh!

That's him!

That's the guy I saw strangled!

Oh! Oh...

Oh, this is so going in the book!

The deceased is George Slate.

The truck and trailer are registered to him.

Found his boat washed up about a mile north,

and two suitcases in the truck with, uh,

clothes and toiletries.

And this... was in his pocket.

Ladybell Landing. Room 309.

Oh, my God, he was there. Just like I said.

Well, how did he end up sleeping with the clams?

- We don't know. - Still working on that.

Hey.

How tall was Slate?

Six feet.

Okay, then he didn't drive this car here.

Whoever did was five-five, tops.

And you know that because...?

Well, look. The seat's pushed all the way forward,

the wheel's tilted down.

It's all wrong for someone six-foot.

Okay, so who drove him here, and from where?

I don't know who, but had to be from the hotel.

It's just awful!

I mean,

Mr. Slate came here every year.

He loved fishing.

I'm not at all surprised that he stopped on his way.

But you're sure that he never checked in?

Yes.

How did he end up with a key to room 309 in his pocket?

Well, he owns the place.

He has the keys to all the rooms,

but that room was his particular favorite.

Uh, you never mentioned that before.

Well, you didn't ask, did you, dear?

Does anyone else have keys to the rooms?

Only Mr. Slate.

And myself, of course.

What will happen, now that he's gone?

Do you think I'll still have my job?

I really don't know, ma'am.

Would you put in a good word for me?

With who?

Mr. Slate.

He's... dead, ma'am.

That's right.

So sad!

Excuse me. Hello!

Maybe George Slate actually was here last night.

Not maybe. He was. I saw him.

Hey...

I don't mean to be a busybody,

but did you find the thing you were looking for?

The corpse

washed up at the clamming beach this morning.

Oh, no.

Are they gonna cancel the Flea Fest?

The what?

Uh, "Founder's Flea Festival."

It's an antiquing thing that happens every year.

I never miss It.

I'm sorry. I couldn't help overhearing--

- And you are--? - Seth Atkins.

I'm here for the Festival, too.

Please tell me that it's not

being canceled? - No worries. It's still on.

So you two are antique-hunters, huh?

It's my passion.

For me, it's, uh... more like an addiction.

I bet you two are looking

for one of those 1939 Founder's Cove roll-top desks?

They're really hard to find.

- Guilty as charged. - The holy grail.

I'm sorry, did you say that someone

drowned at the beach today?

No one drowned. They were murdered.

8) -

Okay, hear me out--

Kim is the right size to have driven George's truck.

She's on the short side for strangling a man from behind,

and carrying a body.

Well, Seth could've strangled him,

and then helped her move the body.

They would've had to pass Wilma,

but she's got the keys to everything.

You know, she may be sharper than she lets on.

Who's Seth?

Seth Atkins, the guy who overheard us

talking to Kim at the hotel.

Sorry, do you think

that Kim and Seth are in on this together?

Oh, they're together. They are so together!

- How do you know that? - Body language.

Kim and Seth were standing fewer than three feet apart,

which is unusual for people who don't know each other,

and they subconsciously mirrored each others gestures,

which is a dead giveaway.

Not only that--

they're lying about why they're here.

There is no such thing

as a Founder's Cove roll-top desk,

so the real question is--

what's really going on,

and why are they

trying so hard to pretend they're not together?

Even if all of that is true, it does not make them Killers.

All T know is that they are hiding something.

Maybe if you do a little digging...?

Aren't you guys supposed to be working?

Work.

Raven sees the murder in chapter five.

No. No, no, no, no.

I said we don't hold back.

Uh, let's drop the body in chapter one.

You hook an audience that way.

Gotta love fiction.

Okay, the problem is,

Selena doesn't know Raven all that well.

How does she know she can trust her?

How does Raven know she can trust Selena?

Selena has more experience.

Raven has new ideas.

Not all of them good ideas.

Selena can't always be the smartest person in the room.

Oh, but she can... ahem.

Her name is on the cover.

Oh, why aren't we getting anything done?

I've just typed three pages in the last five minutes.

That's because you've been holding down the space bar.

Hey, Dave!

8) -

iS he ever gonna stop mowing?

It's the only thing keeping me awake right now.

Something's gotta be wrong.

What if we just have a quick little nap?

Why are we both so tired?

Mm. It's like we've been drugged.

All T ate was that candy bar.

I mean, Is it something in the air?

We'd smell gas, if the stove was on.

Oh! Oh, my God.

Andi! - Mm?

The mower.

Oh, the exhaust from the mower.

It's carbon monoxide.

[t's odorless.

Oh, my God.

Open that door!

Wah! Oh! Oh...

- What's wrong? - It's stuck!

What? Oh... shit.

No! Oh, my God. Allie!

The window's nailed shut!

Ohh...

I'm so sorry for what happened yesterday.

I really didn't mean to make you upset about your mother.

Wait, wait. Are you-- Are you apologizing to me

right now because you think we're gonna die?

I was just covering my ass, In case.

I'm sorry too. I got really mad at you.

Allie?

Allie!

Sorry.

You were falling asleep.

Ahh!

Ohh!

- You were falling asleep. - Okay.

I had a sex dream about Jack.

I wasn't falling asleep!

Sorry. Why are you telling me that?

I just want someone to know, in case this is it.

Mm-mm!

Not today!

What was that?

I don't know!

Is e-everything okay in there?

Someone jammed the latch!

Oh!

Andi!

Andi!

- Thanks, man. - Yeah.

You took a big risk, going back in there.

I'm proud of you.

So what happened?

Someone just tried to get rid of the only evidence

that Slate was killed at... the hotel.

The eyewitness.

So it looks like someone ran a hose

from the tailpipe of the mower to the vent under the cabin.

Any prints?

We'll dust the mower, and let you know.

Good.

This is my fault.

I-1 keep that lawnmower outside.

[-I should've locked it in the shed.

Well, no one's ever tried to steal it before!

No one's blaming you, Dave.

Ahh.

So, what did the M.E. say about Slate?

What?

What did the Medical Examiner say about Slate?

She confirmed he was strangled,

and he had severe cervical vertebrae decay.

At the bottom of his suitcase...

...we found this.

That's the necktie. That's the murder weapon.

That's what I thought.

Did you find anything out about Wilma?

Wilma's husband died a few years ago...

...from carbon monoxide poisoning.

- That's a coincidence. - Right?

One more wrinkle.

Slate was not the sole owner of Ladybell Landing.

There were two other investors.

So...

how's the antiquing going?

Kim found a Wallace Nutting hand-colored photograph today.

Not a Nutting!

I am undone.

Wish I could be more excited, but...

I can't help thinking about what happened on the beach.

Any news, Detective?

We identified the victim-- George Slate.

Who?

Don't pretend that you don't know George Slate.

He owned the hotel and you two were his partners.

Silent partners.

Silent partners who Jed about tracking down

a roll-top desk that...

doesn't actually exist.

So, what's going on?

It's...

complicated.

We're both married.

Mm!

Just not to each other?

This is our annual escape.

This is where we first met, and why we keep coming back.

We bought a stake in the place,

SO we'd have an excuse every year

to come and check on our investment.

Mostly, we did it

so we'd always have the same room,

same time,

no questions asked.

We're romantics at heart.

Look, I'm not proud of what we're doing...

but adultery isn't illegal.

NO.

But murder sure is,

and divorce costs a lot of dough.

So if George threatened to reveal

your dirty little secret--

We didn't murder anyone!

I feel terrible about George.

He was the sweetest man!

So you don't know anyone that would want to kill him?

God, no.

This may sound crazy, but have you talked to Wilma?

George said he was gonna

leave her 25% of the place when he died.

Maybe she got tired of waiting.

Wilma?

Mm?

I hear congratulations are in order.

On what?

Thanks to George Slate,

you now own 25% of this inn.

I guess you don't have to worry about your future anymore.

Well, at my age, dear,

that really is all one worries about.

You can certainly understand that, dear.

Oh, I-I would, actually,

because I was nearly Killed by carbon monoxide poisoning--

it's the same way your husband died!

And, coincidentally, Slate was killed at this hotel,

and his body was somehow moved,

and then, somehow, his room was cleaned within ten minutes,

so, whoever did it must have had a key to both rooms.

Scone?

They're eggrolls.

I'll pass.

Actually, I'll have...

Come on.

They did it.

Kim and Seth-- they killed George Slate.

Yeah, with some help from Wilma.

Okay, but until I can prove how they killed George Slate,

I can't do anything about it, so, look,

I think you two should head back to town.

- No. - No, no, no.

- We're not going anywhere. - Absolutely not.

I knew you would say no to that.

I'v e 7 r ra Nn dg e df 0 r S e C u ri Ity

Great.

See ya!

- I'll walk you down. - Thanks.

Or, actually...

you know,

we could meet back at my place, have a glass of wine?

Oh.

Uh...

Just wine.

Yeah. Okay. Uh, y-- Yes.

- Okay. - But I need an hour.

Just to...

write some...

notes on the carbon monoxide thing.

You know, for the... the...

novel, and for the deadline.

Okay. Take your time.

- Okay. - Okay.

Where are you going?

Getting some air.

Not alone, you're not!

Get any work done?

Ah, some.

Uh-huh.

But I'll probably rewrite it all tomorrow morning.

Right.

There you go.

- Thank you. - You're welcome.

Okay, we're looking for...

...a loose floorboard,

a secret compartment, maybe a hidden room--

anywhere Mr. and Mrs. Death could've hidden a body.

Let's do this right.

Not used to a man bringing protection.

You look very nice tonight.

Aw, thank you.

I mean, I just...

you know, threw it on.

Yeah?

Yep.

Now what are you looking for?

I'm just checking to see if maybe the ceiling

is a little bit hollow,

so they could just...

hide a body up here or som--

Be careful!

- Oh... - Be careful.

So, uh...

should we talk about the case?

Oh, I'd rather think about it without talking about it.

Mm.

Look at that!

What am I looking at?

Wait, walt.

Look...

there's a patch under this painting

that's a different color than the rest of the wall.

That's because the painting protected it

from being bleached by the sun.

Okay, sure, but this patch-- this is smaller

than the actual painting hanging here.

Look at this nightstand.

It was also bleached by the sun,

but the base of this lamp IS square, not round.

Okay, so there was another lamp there.

I know how they did it.

Look, a-about what happened the first time--

What... What happened "the first time"?

Well, I mean, it didn't happen,

but it could've happened--

but then you spilled a drink-- I mean, maybe I spilled it--

You spilled it.

And I tried cleaning it off of you and--

trying to help you, and wipe it off your pants,

and that must've made you feel really uncomfortable--

and I'm just...

Look.

You know what I think?

I know how they did it!

Oh! Incoming!

Again?

Well, I'm officially out of pants.

They didn't move the body!

What are you talking about?

They switched the room.

The reason there was no evidence of the murder

in room 309 is because it didn't happen there.

Slate was strangled

In room 308, just like Andi said he was--

- Thank you. - ...Kim's room.

The room we saw first?

What fooled me was that none of the furnishings matched.

Wait. You're saying they...

swapped everything?

The-The phallic painting,

and the lamps and the bedspread,

with stuff from room 3097?

Slate's body was probably still in Kim's room

when C.S.U. was going through room 309.

Exactly!

So, after we all left,

Kim and Seth moved George's body--

probably in a laundry cart-- down to George's truck,

which Kim drove to the boat launch,

and then they dumped his body in the water.

When they came back to Kim's room,

they scrubbed the place clean, to get rid of the evidence,

and Wilma probably helped them!

Yep! Exactly.

Case closed.

Go make the arrest.

I can't make the arrest with that,

not in these pants.

- Why not? - They're all wet!

No. The arrest!

There's no physical evidence.

Have you not been listening to anything?

We've got more than enough evidence!

Maybe in one of your books. Not in real life.

We don't even have enough for a search warrant.

So what happens now, then?

Now I'll try

to prove they're guilty in some other way,

but it's not gonna happen overnight.

Or ever. Right?

Even though you have actual eyewitness.

We need physical evidence,

and I need...

to change these pants.

Ahem.

Back to my post.

Mm-hmm.

‘Night.

So...

Ahem.

You gonna tell me what happened with Jack?

Nothing's happened with Jack.

Okay! All right.

Are you kidding me? You had a sex dream about him.

Now you're having drinks together?

I think that you should go for it.

Okay, it was a glass of wine, and you're crazy.

Selena St. Cloud would go for it.

Selena is a character in a book.

Wait. Wait-wait-wait-walit.

Jack said that Slate had a problem with his neck,

even before he got strangled.

One of my ex-husbands had the same thing--

um, "cervical vertebrae decay".

Okay.

He used to have to travel with some special pillow,

but Jack said

that there was luggage with just clothing.

So you think that George left

his special pillow in the hotel room?

Yeah, and maybe this sounds crazy,

and I know it's the whole life-imitating-art thing,

but I wrote something for Selena

that I think that we could use

to trap those two adulterous antiquers.

Great. I'm in.

You-- You don't wanna hear it?

So you can criticize it?

No. It's time to go rogue, baby.

Okay.

Wilma.

Oh. Um...

can we talk to you In private?

Well, certainly.

Okay. Um...

What kind of pillows do you use in your hotel?

Down, of course!

No secret there.

650 fill, not a feather less.

You know, my mother used to make us

down pillows...

uh, from the ducks we et.

Oh.

I've never slept on something that I've... "et".

Oh?

The thing is, Wilma, we think that two of your guests

murdered George Slate,

but they made a grave error

that's gonna put them away for good.

Oh! What sort of error?

When they were clearing George's room of his things,

they forgot that he has

a very special neck pillow that he travels with.

And it was in a pillowcase,

so they probably didn't even know it was there.

If you can find it,

it's the proof the police need to put them away.

- Oh! - Oh, but be careful,

and call Jack Kerrigan

at the Sheriff's office right away.

- It's Jack, yes, the Sheriff? - Yes.

- Pillow! - Yes!

- Thank you. - Thank you.

Yes! Sheriff! Jack.

Pillow.

All of this...

just to get out of a bad marriage?

Frankly, I don't understand why people even get married anymore.

Oh, I don't know!

Love, companionship...

security.

Yeah, you can get all of that

without entering into a culturally-imposed monogamy

that is so inherently suffocating

that people resort to murder to break the shackles.

I call bullshit.

They just can't keep their zippers zipped.

- I gotta pee. - Would you come back here?

I'll just be a minute.

What are you gonna use to wipe?

You don't wanna know.

You're supposed to pee before a stakeout!

Oh, for God's sake!

Here they come.

It worked!

The pillow must be in the suitcase!

And they're gonna ditch It in the woods!

Would you hurry up?

I'm coming!

Geez!

Was Wilma with them?

Wilma wasn't in on it.

Lady, this is no time for an aneurysm.

I figured it out when I saw Kim and Seth,

when I yelled at you to hurry.

Not following.

I warned you that something was happening,

the same way that somebody saw you with the binoculars

and then warned Kim and Seth--

that's why they switched the rooms.

Okay, but who would've seen me?

Well, it would have to be Dave.

Uh, he was doing his security rounds,

and ne was on his way to your cabin.

He had to have called them.

So the whole carbon monoxiae thing--

that was him, too. - Yes.

Well, why aid he try to save us?

Because of Jack--

he wanted to make sure he was ruled out as a suspect.

Okay, but that doesn't explain

why he'd want to kill George Slate.

Dave was selling Granite Creek, remember--

to some big hotel chain.

My guess Is that the same developer

needs both properties--

the Ladybell Landing

and the Granite Creek Cabins,

to build one big resort, or the deal’s off.

And Slate wouldn't sell, so, it ruined the deal for everyone.

Exactly.

Ahh! Aren't you a couple of smart cookies?

Maybe a little too smart.

Take it easy, okay?

Oh, honey...

I don't think you're in any position

to be calling the shots right now.

Freeze!

Hey! Is everybody all right?

Yeah. Whew.

You just saved our lives.

Just a quiet trip to get some writing done...

Life's all about the detours.

You were right--

pillow was in the suitcase.

Yeah.

Hey. Just seeing how you two are doing.

Oh, we're still breathing, thanks to you.

This is Melissa Grant. Melissa's a Park Ranger.

Yeah.

Wait. We met, clamming.

Right! Yeah.

I was heading into town

after putting some tracking collars

on some mountain lion cubs,

but when I saw that dude pointing a gun at you,

I just hit the gas without even thinking.

I'm glad you did!

Yeah.

You might see you around.

I'm gonna be staying in the Cove till T finish with my project,

so, take care. Bye.

- See ya. - Thanks, Melissa!

Speaking of projects,

I have a little more information about your mother,

and I completely understand

if you think it's none of my business.

I live in Founder's Cove,

so my life IS everyone's business.

Okay. When I was

working on trying to find your mother, last week,

I was not researching international databases.

Allie has the hunch that maybe your mother was French--

you have a French passport.

That's a good guess. My mom was born in Orsay.

There you go.

Well, and, uh, French citizens

are fingerprinted when they're kids,

for their national identity card.

But your mother had not been wiped from that system,

so I ran them through A.F.I.S.

I got a hit.

Is she still alive?

As of three years ago, yes.

"Renee Chantal Walker"

was in a Montpelier, Vermont donut shop

that June.

Do you know that for sure?

Actually, yes.

The C.S.U. had dusted that shop

for prints after an armed robbery.

Your mother was not there at the time,

but her prints were on the front counter.

The lack of degradation indicates that it was recent.

That's Derek's Donuts. It's...

right across from Tressider College...

where I went to school.

Three years ago, I graduated...

In June.

My mom was there.