Original subtitles

She moved in about five years ago, and she's never been out of her apartment.

Never? It's not at all what it appears to be. There is not enough malpractice

insurance in the world to cover what you've been doing to her.

Dr. Holden, do I have to go to sleep? There you go. You're gonna feel much

better in the morning. You'll be around, Mr. Phelps, won't you? I have to keep an

eye on Alice, don't I? Hello, Alice.

Go away!

Alice may have seen something that incriminates someone else.

Aren't you pleased to see me when you're expecting someone else?

Shut up, I'm not a fool! Not like you've never acknowledged me!

Good morning, Mrs. Fletcher, Express Pam. Thank you, Richie.

Yes, the galleys have just arrived. I promise, I'll get to them over the

weekend. All right, goodbye, Arthur.

Was there something else, Richie?

Well, it's really not your problem, ma'am, but there's this tenant, number

one of the singles on the 10th floor, Alice, Miss Morgan, I mean.

She moved in about five years ago, and she's never been out of her apartment.

Never?

Not once.

Come in, Richie.

Thank you, Ben.

She's afraid, Mrs. Fletcher.

There's some sort of name for what she's got.

Uh-huh, yeah, I think you mean agoraphobia.

There you go.

Well, anyway, I sort of keep an eye on her. You know, I deliver her groceries

in the paper and take away her trash.

She doesn't trust strangers.

Well, all of a sudden, this last couple of days, she's refused to open the door

to take the stuff.

She tells me to just leave it.

She hasn't even hauled it inside.

She just yells that I should go away.

Oh. Does she have any relatives?

A brother. And there's a Dr. Holden who comes to visit her.

I've called them both and left messages on their machines, but nobody's shown

up. I tell you what.

Why don't the two of us just run up there for a minute, and maybe between

the two of us, we can find out whether or not she needs help.

I'm here with Mrs. Fletcher from 4B. She's worried about you.

I'm fine.

Go away.

Alice, I thought maybe we could talk for a moment.

Otherwise, we're going to have to call for some help.

Sit down.

Thank you.

Would you, um, like some tea?

Oh, no, thank you.

Miss Morgan, Alice, I don't want to pry, but Richie was very

concerned about you.

When I look through here, I can see the brownstone, the house I lived in with my

family.

Oh, that's lovely.

Do you ever have a dream where, when you wake up, you're not certain if it was a

dream or if it was real?

Yes, I have.

I usually fall asleep before this show is over, so I tape it, just to be sure.

Five years ago, I saw a man... I mean, I saw him in a dream.

But maybe... He is back with a vengeance.

He is a leading contender in the much-talked-about design project, the

Lower Soho Museum of Arts.

Jordan Barnett, welcome back to the Big Apple.

Thanks, Jim.

It's nice to be back.

That's the man from my dream.

From five years back? Yes.

No.

A week ago, and every night since, I see the body of my mother lying there.

And when I go to touch it, this huge, vicious bird comes right at me.

Her body?

But your mother is... For God's sake, don't you understand?

She's dead.

She was murdered.

Who are you?

And what are you doing here?

I'm sure that you and the doorman have the best of intentions, but Miss Morgan

is my patient, and as you can see, her condition is very precarious, so you're

going to have to leave, I'm afraid, right now. Of course. Excuse me, are you

the Dr. Holden that Richie was trying to reach? Yes, I am, and Alice needs me

right now, so thank you very much.

Alice? Here, let's turn this off.

Come on, you can do it. Calm down.

Slowly.

Slowly. That's it, girl.

Slowly.

Barnett Design Studios, Laura Martin speaking.

I'm afraid he's in a meeting just now, Mr. Ferris.

All right.

We report back to the rest of the committee tomorrow, and, well,

personally, I think it's safe to say you'll be our choice.

Thank you, Mrs. Eddington. I'd be less than honest if I didn't tell you how

much I appreciate your personal involvement.

Thanks so much for coming by.

What's your reading? Is the museum commission a go?

Well, Laura, let me put it this way.

I hope I'm going to be counting heavily on you in the next few months.

Got a few phone calls, and we're out of here. Dinner.

Oh, the TV station faxed in some inquiries that came in after the show

the other night.

Well, should I send the usual bio and credits?

Jordan, is something wrong?

Of course not.

What about dinner?

I'm late.

Jim, you want to bring it around?

Right away, Mr. Barnett.

Barnett.

Van.

Van Gottler. How long has it been? Forget the charm, will you? You know how

long it's been.

You got about 30 seconds.

Maybe you ought to get to it.

Yeah, but what did it seem?

I've seen your specs and renderings for the museum project.

And?

You're incredible.

You know that?

When you can put two sentences together, call me.

Thanks.

I'll give you a couple right now.

Except for a few details you added. That entire package is my old university

library project.

Ben, get a life.

And stay the hell out of mine, all right?

Look, Geordie, I don't want to make trouble.

I just want what's mine.

Time's up, Jennifer.

Oh, thank you, Doctor.

See you on Tuesday.

Doctor, I need... Tuesday, Jennifer.

What?

Ellen, we've got to talk.

Not now, Peter.

Now, let me through. No, damn it. I'm sick and tired of you draining my

sister's bank account and not making her any better and turning her against me in

the bargain.

And I'm also a little... Peter, you are being tedious.

The only interest I have in you and your financial problems is how they affect

Alice and her mental health.

Now, get out.

You'd better start listening to me, Doctor.

Because you know and I know there is not enough malpractice insurance in the

world to cover what you've been doing to her.

You want her permission to sell the brownstone?

I'm not going to take anything away from her, Ellen.

She'll get her half, every penny of it.

I'll see what I can do. Okay, but fast.

I would have retired six months ago, but my wife said, how can you be a good

grandpa if you can't afford all of this stuff?

I know.

When is it due?

Yesterday.

Kid's probably going to be a soccer star.

My daughter, Estelle, says he's been trying to kick his way out of there for

months. Did you find anything?

Well, yes, but I'm not sure I know what it means.

Lillian Morgan, age 47, murdered in her own brownstone on West 61st Street five

years ago last month.

There's a statement in there from her daughter, Alice, and also her son,

Peter.

Carving knife from the kitchen.

Possible robbery.

So the case is still open. No suspect.

How old would Alice have been at that time?

18 years old. And her brother was away at school.

Yeah, it's kind of coming back to me. The victim had a husband who walked out

on her about three months before she was hoods. That was Wallace Morgan.

Mm-hmm.

Yeah, we tried tracing him. Vanished into thin air. Yeah.

Missing persons.

Figured he died or left the country.

So anyway, the daughter, this neighbor of yours, she goes a little wingy, holds

up in her apartment for five years.

suffers recurring nightmares of a mother's murder, then sees this

architect.

Jordan Barnett.

Right. On the TV.

And her shrink tells you to butt out.

Come on, Jessica.

There's nothing here.

They said this was going to be more complicated than driving a patrol car,

but I had no idea.

Miss Fletcher. Detective Grady.

Here's what I tracked down, Lieutenant.

Phone company records show this guy, Barnett, closing his account five years

ago last month.

And there's no record of him in New York since.

Hello, Alice.

Hello, desk.

I'll be right there.

Come on. Move it.

This is Fletcher.

It's Alice. Somebody's trying to bust into our apartment.

Alice, let me in.

Go away.

Please. Leave me alone.

Come on, Alice.

Open up.

Alice, Alice, I'm not here to hurt you.

Alice! Damn it, open it up!

Alice! Go away!

Hey!

Alice, this is Jessica Fletcher.

He's gone now.

Would you please open the door?

Mrs. Fletcher, it isn't just a dream.

That was Jordan Barnett, the man who killed my mother.

Alice?

Don't leave me alone, please. Alice, you're a big girl now, okay?

I, uh... I'll stay with you.

No, you won't, Mr. Phelps. Alice needs her rest.

I'm going to have to ask you to leave.

Both of you.

It's okay.

It's okay. Put your head down.

There you go.

My bad.

That's it, girl. I'll see you tomorrow.

Look, I can understand your concern, Doctor, but... I don't think you do.

That young woman is simply not strong enough to withstand a barrage of people

and questions that could send her right over the edge.

Dr. Holden, doesn't it alarm you that the man that she believes murdered her

mother is now trying to get into her apartment to possibly harm her?

Given your profession, Mrs. Fletcher, I'm not surprised that, like Alice, you

have a difficult time discerning that...

Fine line between fantasy and reality.

Jordan Barnett is not a fantasy, nor is the fact that he happened to have left

Manhattan within hours of Lillian Morgan's murder.

Life is full of coincidences.

Perhaps.

But as I believe, Dr. Freud suggested, very few accidents.

Touché.

Pardon me, what did you say your name was?

I'm sorry, Dr. Holden, but he's with a client just now. Would you care to leave

a message?

Oh, well, may I tell him what this is regarding?

I'll give him the message, Doctor, but I happen to know that he's busy tonight.

You're welcome.

I cannot account for the fantasies of a young woman who's clearly deranged.

Following my recent television appearance, the station sent us a list

of inquiries, and I, uh... Yeah, about that.

I wasn't aware that architects were making house calls to prospective

clients. If you'd permit me to finish, I was about to say that I thought she

might be the same Alice Morgan that I dated many years ago and subsequently

lost track of.

So instead of phoning her, you simply showed up at the door?

I wanted to surprise her.

Well, you certainly seem to have succeeded.

Look, this whole thing is a total misunderstanding. It's not at all what

it appears to be.

I was coming to that.

So why did you run?

Let me answer that with a question for both of you.

Now, suppose you're a prominent architect for whom there's an important

high-profile commission hanging in a precarious balance.

The Lower Soho Museum?

Precisely. And you make the mistake of knocking on the door of a young woman,

unaware that she happens to be severely emotionally disturbed, and who turns

your innocent visit into a public scene, a scene which neither you nor your

career can afford.

Now, my question is this. What would you have done if an overprotective doorman

and several irate neighbors converged upon you making the same assumptions

that brought the two of you to this office?

He's got a point, Mrs. Fletcher.

I make no claim that I made the wisest decision by leaving when I did.

But now, if you'll excuse me, I'm already late for an important meeting.

Thank you for your time, Mr. Barnett.

I can't believe you're pulling this on me again.

This is business, Laura. You're right. Yours isn't as Dr.

Holden's. I got that part, Jordan. What I want to know is, should I pack my bags

and head back to California?

Laura, Laura.

I promise I'll explain everything to you.

If I can get away early enough, we'll grab some dinner, huh?

I'm actually her stepbrother.

Alice's father died when she was young, as did my mother.

My dad married Lillian Morgan when I was about three.

And your father, Wallace Morgan, you never heard from him after he vanished?

No.

Peter, do you have any inkling of why he suddenly left Alice and your stepmother,

what was it, three months before she was murdered?

Wait. Is this why you asked me over here, to get something on my father, to

try and... No, not at all, Peter. No, believe me, I didn't mean to pry.

I suppose, knowing Alice, I was just naturally curious about her background.

Actually, what I am trying to determine is whether a Mr.

Jordan Barnett was involved with you or your family at the time that Lillian

Morgan was murdered.

Barnett? Yes, he's an architect.

He disappeared... Five years ago, just around the time of the murder.

Jordan Barnett.

I recognize him.

This is a two-way street, Mrs. Fletcher. I want quid pro quo.

Oh, well, I'm not sure I understand.

I mean, what do I have that you want?

Well, at the moment, access to my stepsister.

I understand you and she have gotten kind of tight in the past couple of

days. Much to the annoyance of that quack who's been treating her.

Look, Alice and I inherited a couple of individual trusts which keep us alive

and well, and one old brownstone period.

The one in which Lillian Morgan was murdered?

Uh-huh. I have a chance to sell it for more than that old dump's worth, but I

can't do it unilaterally. I need Alice's consent.

And you want me to intercede?

For whatever reason, Dr.

Holdens turned her against me.

I mean, Alice won't even take any of my phone calls.

And quite frankly, I need the cash.

Look, Peter, I'll tell her all that you've told me.

And I won't advise her one way or the other.

Hey, I can live with that.

I can't be in a worse place than I am now, which is nowhere.

So, what can I tell you about Jordan Barnett?

The truth, Peter.

Did you or your family know him?

I think my dad was considering hiring him to remodel the brownstone.

You know that little witch who's working for you? She goes.

Oh, Ellen.

Be reasonable.

She spent almost all the time with me when I was out in the West Coast. I

don't care, Jordan.

That's how long I went without you.

No, Ellen.

Come on.

Uh-uh. She's history.

As of tomorrow.

Oh, come on. As of tomorrow. Or would you rather that I had Alice start to

believe all of that stuff her subconscious is just trying so hard to

tell her, huh?

Hey, taxi!

New York.

There's a cab when you need one.

The decedent was a white male, approximately 45.

All of his jewelry and wallet were taken, suggesting a robbery motive.

I personally knew him as a Jordan Barnett, an architect.

Freddy, a minute. You got anything?

Nothing that you couldn't find for yourself. Cause of death, a single knife

wound inflicted by a broad-bladed instrument of some kind. The wound

aperture shows bruising, suggesting...

Very powerful thrust.

You going anywhere for breakfast, Artie?

Thanks anyway, Freddy.

Freddy!

What is this?

Pick it up. My back.

Beg it. Have forensics chase down any prints.

Right, Lieutenant.

Listen, should I take this? Freddy, just do it, all right?

Look, I may have lost the stub, but I was there.

I can describe the movie. It was a revival of Casablanca.

Casablanca? Who can't describe Casablanca? I don't even like it, and I

know it by heart.

It's the best I can do.

Yeah, well, there is a lady in a parking valet who will testify to an incident

outside of Barnett's office last Thursday at 5 p.m.

All right, look, uh... Look, five years ago, we were partners. Uh, we had a

worthwhile thing going, you know?

Uh...

He had a five-story for the city, a couple of big commissions pending.

Then he, uh, walked out.

Yeah, just like that.

Just like that.

And your career?

I had a little regrouping to do was all, but I didn't kill him, Lieutenant.

I had no reason to.

That is what I heard, Mr. Gottler. According to our information, your

career went in the dump of the day Jordan Barnett left town.

Okay, we know Barnett snuck into your building to find out what Alice

remembered about when he killed her mother.

Now, if she'd only give us a statement that corresponds with what she told you.

You mean about her dream of seeing Jordan Barnett standing over her

mother's body?

Yeah. Then I figure we can close a file on the Lillian Morgan homicide.

And it takes your friend Alice out of danger.

Perhaps.

What perhaps, Jessica?

Well, several things.

First, you said you didn't know what Jordan Barnett was doing over on East

67th Street.

Well, it happens that the spot where you found his body is just around the corner

from the office of Alice's psychiatrist, Dr.

Ellen Holden. That's good.

Next. Well, the similarity between the way in which both Mrs. Morgan and Mr.

Barnett were killed. I mean, you indicated that it could have been done

by the same person.

Yeah, yeah.

Not necessarily so.

Right over here, Jessica.

Thanks.

Marty, suppose Jordan Barnett didn't kill Lillian Morgan, but was the one who

found her body. Now, it's conceivable that he was killed because he was

getting too close to the truth.

Okay, that tracks.

Sort of.

What are you saying?

Well, what I'm suggesting is that Alice may have seen something that

incriminates someone else.

And if the killer realizes it... Alice.

I don't want to talk to you right now.

Damn it, Alice. Open the door.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher told me what you want, and I can't.

Not just yet.

Oh, for God's sake, give me a break.

You're never gonna set foot in that old rat trap again.

Arnette's gone, Alice.

There's nothing to be frightened of anymore.

Alice, it's time you and I went back to the way we were.

Brother and sister.

We were never anything like that, Peter.

You know we weren't.

Please, leave me alone!

Alice? It's Henry.

Peter's gone.

You okay?

I know what the problem is, Alice. Richie told me all about it.

Very protectively.

I mean, Richie would throw himself in front of a truck for you.

Did you ever get a chance to listen to the record I found for you? The Chopin?

No.

Maybe you'd like to listen to it with me?

I don't know if you realize, but I've been your neighbor for as long as you've

lived here.

No.

I didn't know that.

And I saw the same TV show you saw.

The one Barnett was on?

I recognized him when he tried to break into your apartment.

I'm almost glad he's dead.

Not that anyone should rejoice in somebody else's misfortune, but with

only the thickness of a wall between us, well, it's almost

like we're family, and I watch out for you.

That's a very nice way to put it, Henry.

Actually, I'm kind of glad we're not related.

I mean, I'd like to be your friend.

I think you already are.

Well, can't keep the boss waiting for too long.

Thank you for coming by.

You never have to be alone Alice.

You know that, don't you?

Holy McGully, when?

Grady!

What is it, Lieutenant?

That was my son-in-law.

Estelle and my wife left for the hospital 15 minutes ago. They think it's

time. Well, listen, I was gonna ask... Case is yours, Grady. Don't screw it up.

My father, Mrs. Fletcher.

Peter.

Doesn't do him justice, really.

May I ask what you're doing here?

Well, I was curious to see the place that had given Alice so many sad

memories. She let me have the key.

Why did you cover it?

I loved him too much to be reminded of him the whole time.

He was kind of a hero to me.

Do you know where your father is now, Peter?

Or why he left several months before Lillian was murdered?

No to both questions. He simply ran away from it all.

From Lillian and her money.

From me.

Alice told me that you were away at school when your stepmother was

murdered. Right.

Slogging away at those winter finals.

Well, thank you for sharing this with me, Peter.

Hey.

Listen, I appreciate you going to bat for me with Alice.

I'm sorry it wasn't more effective.

You held up your end of the bargain.

Richie, what's all the commotion about? Looks like half the police department is

parked outside.

I couldn't stop them, Mrs. Fletcher.

I phoned Dr. Holden because I didn't know what to do. What are you talking

about? The police have come for Alice.

Oh, good heavens.

The condition is agoraphobia, Grady.

Remember it the next time you try strong-arming some young lady who's

suffering, obviously, from a severe emotional trauma. Hey, what did I know,

Lieutenant? By the time I got her to open the door, she was, like, hysterical

and started hitting me. And then this guy.

There seems to have been a very unfortunate breakdown in communications,

Lieutenant. Yeah, guilty as charged. I haven't exactly been on my game.

Anyway, I gave that piece of jewelry to forensics like he told me to, and they

came back with a match on Miss Morgan's prints from her school I.D. card from

six years ago.

Has she got any idea how her locket ended up at the murder site?

Who got a chance to ask?

Listen, I'm really sorry, Lieutenant.

It's all right, Grady.

Go down to the station, make out the report, and release Mr. Phelps.

I have to tell you, Jessica, psychosis or no psychosis, I'm still not convinced

that Alice Morgan didn't kill Barnett. Well, at this point, I've got nothing

more than my instinct to go on, but, Artie, it seems just as plausible to me

that somebody else planted that locket.

Yeah, someone close to her, someone who had access to her apartment or to her.

Let's see. We've got the doorman, her stepbrother, Dr.

Holden.

I think maybe I'd better get back to my apartment. I've got some work to do

before I turn in.

We'll be around, won't you, Mr. Phelps?

Of course, Lieutenant.

I have to keep an eye on Alice, don't I?

She's calm now, Lieutenant.

No thanks to your Neanderthal associates.

If you must talk to her, and I urge you to keep it to a minimum, you're going to

have to do so in the morning.

Dr. Holden, I'd like to ask you a question.

Did Jordan Barnett visit your office last night? Why would he?

I've never met the man.

Excuse me. Really?

Well, Mr. Barnett's phone records indicate a call from your number around

three hours before he was killed.

Well, I tried to talk to him, Lieutenant, because he had frightened my

patient and because he'd been playing such a large part in her nightmares and

I wanted to find out whether there was any truth to her dreams.

Unfortunately, the young woman who answered the phone wouldn't put him on

the line.

Now, I suggest we give Alice some much-needed peace and quiet.

Who is it?

It's me, Mrs. Fletcher. Alice Morgan.

Alice?

I'm sorry to bother you so late. May I come in? Of course, of course.

Alice, you're looking so much better.

I'm so sorry about what happened.

Detective Grady had just had no idea.

Sit down.

It was okay.

No, I take it back. It was horrible.

But do you know, I actually found out something about myself.

That what you feared had very little basis in reality.

Something like that.

I started thinking about what actually did happen.

And I remember I was out of the apartment and in the elevator with those

police all the way to the ground floor.

The door opened and there was the lobby and Richie at his desk.

It had been so long I'd forgotten what it looked like.

I was terrified, all right, but nothing happened.

I mean, I was alive and in one piece and whatever I thought would happen was all

in my head.

Not nearly as bad as what Dr. Holden had led you to believe.

That's right.

Mrs. Fletcher, if I could do that again with nobody forcing me...

Only this time, try to go to the brownstone.

To separate the nightmare from the reality.

Yes.

Would you help me?

Alice, I'd be proud to.

Hello, Richie.

Alice.

Hi.

You need any help, Mrs. Fletcher?

Thanks, but I think not, Richie.

Don't you worry about us.

We're taking it one step at a time.

Alright.

Makes you feel pretty good, huh, Mr. Phelps?

Okay so far? Yes.

Thanks.

I never thought I'd ever be back inside this whole thing.

It used to seem warmer.

Friendlier.

It began up there.

In my bedroom.

I'd come home from school that night.

I was tired.

I went right to bed.

About two in the morning, voices downstairs woke me.

Angry voices.

An argument of some kind. My mother's... But I couldn't recognize the other.

A man and a woman were fighting.

Terribly.

Then there was a scream.

I went downstairs.

There was my mother's body lying there.

A hunting knife next to it.

And... And there was that man, Barnett, standing over

her.

He looked up and he saw me.

He turned and he ran.

What about the hawk?

The front door.

As he runs out...

It attacks me.

Alice, listen to me. Listen to me. Despite what you think you heard, I

don't believe that Jordan Barnett murdered your mother.

And who did?

I think... I'll talk it over later.

Right now, it's time to leave.

And the quicker, the better.

Where'd you say it would be? That was on 34th and between 5th and 6th. You got

enough time to get there?

Mrs. Fletcher?

Hello, Alex.

Peter.

I know.

I know.

It seems odd inviting myself in like this.

I borrowed the key from Dr. Holden.

You've been here.

Of course.

Once I heard that Jordan Barnett was in town, I had to lift that locket of

yours. To blame me for Jordan Barnett's murder.

Why not?

You haven't got a clue, do you?

Five years ago, what was really going on?

My father loved your mother very much.

God only knows why.

Because all it took was that simpering, phony Barnett to take her from him.

Do you have any idea what that did to my dad?

Suddenly, everything was lost for him.

His self-respect.

Everything.

He had to bail out.

Run away.

Do you blame him?

was I lost the only person that I ever really wanted to be with.

The only person I ever loved.

You and Mrs. Fletcher left the brownstone in a hurry.

It would have been a lot easier to finish our business there.

Did she fill in all the gaps for you?

Not quite all, Peter.

No move, Morgan.

Drop it.

You okay, Alice?

She's fine, Detective Grady.

Alice's memory of the murder was more accurate than she gave herself credit

for. She thought it was a nightmare.

But you must have been watching as Jordan Barnett came in that night and

found Lillian on the floor just after you'd murdered her.

The police report indicated... that the weapon was a carving knife.

But what Alice remembers seeing was a hunting knife. It was your father's

Bowie knife, the knife that was your symbol of retribution in two murders,

the one that you were holding just now.

This is your fantasy, Mrs. Fletcher.

It was a kitchen knife that killed my stepmother.

I don't think so, Peter. You hid and waited.

It was certainly a curious twist of fate that brought Jordan Barnett to the

brownstone that night. The very night you chose to kill your stepmother.

You saw Barnett come in to find his lover dead on the floor. You saw Alice

become hysterical.

Then when it was safe, you substituted that Bowie knife with a knife from the

kitchen, which became the weapon of record.

This is all totally ridiculous.

When Alice's mother was killed, I was miles away at school.

Wellington College, wasn't it?

I noticed the jacket that you were wearing in the photograph of you and

your father.

I called the school tonight.

Peter, your finals that year ended the day before Lillian was killed.

I always dream of an attacking hawk.

Mrs. Fletcher showed me how I had it mixed up with the emblem on your helmet.

The one you left on the hall table.

I never saw you in the brownstone that night.

Only your helmet.

But subconsciously, I must have known that you were there.

That you killed my mother.

But I could never let myself believe it.

When I heard Barnett was back in New York, I was afraid he might talk to you

and you'd remember.

Alice, when my dad and your mom got together, married.

Alice, I've always wanted a sister.

I wanted a brother too, Peter.

I think I finally got the mobile working, but at 11 pounds, 4 ounces, he

may be too mature for it. I mean, you should see him, Mrs. Fletcher. He's

practically ready to walk and talk.

Oh, Artie, he's beautiful.

Oh, I didn't tell you. Dr.

Holden's license has been pulled, and all of a sudden, other clients of hers

are coming out of the woodwork to file formal complaints.

Oh, thank heavens. So it's a fair guess that she won't be manipulating other

patients the way she did Alice.

Ready, Mrs. Fletcher? Mm-hmm.

Oh, hi, Lieutenant.

Ready. Ready for what?

Alice and Henry are taking me to the Philharmonic.

To... Wait a minute.

What about all those people?

What do you think, Henry?

Will Mrs. Fletcher be able to stand it?