[ Seagulls squawk ]
Art Basel, my ass.
All these rich, annoying douche bags
flying in from all over the place, taking over Miami.
Traffic already blows.
Yeah, tell me about it.
Took me two hours just to get home last night.
[ Scoffs ]
Well, as long as some euro-trash bankers
can get their over-priced crap... [ laughs ]
Excuse me... art delivered safe and sound.
All right. Come on.
[ Motor whirring ] Whoa! Whoa! Whoa!
- Hold up, Manny! Hold it! - Why? What is it?
The crate's not sealed. It's about to bust open.
Last thing I need is some bazillion-dollar sculpture
falling out and smashing to pieces all over my dock.
Bring it back down now... easy.
Whoa!
Damn.
Manus: I have no idea what to make of this.
Half of Ray's agreement with the U.S. Marshals office
is redacted.
The rest is, you know, standard language.
As long as Jeff is a minor,
he can have contact with his father under supervised visits,
which means the minute he turns 18...
He can't see his dad again unless he enters the program
with Ray, which means no contact with us.
Or Ray could opt out of the program,
and then no one's protected.
What does Jeff's marshal think's going on?
Tony thinks Ray's hit a wall, might be trying to walk.
Thinks he and Jeff are in contact,
trying to work out what that means for them.
Well, one thing it definitely means is
if Jeff is in touch with his dad
outside the protection of WITSEC,
he's putting both his dad and his mom at risk.
Yeah, I know.
Look... I could reach out,
get a copy of Jeff's cellphone records.
Not exactly the way
you want to start your relationship with your stepson?
- Not exactly. - Right.
So, I won't.
You didn't ask. I didn't offer.
This conversation never happened.
You've got enough on your plate.
Sorry, but it looks like
we have a dead body at the Port of Miami.
Carlos: Rigor has started to reverse.
Taking into account the heat inside the crate,
I'd say our victim's been dead for more than two days.
Puncture wound in the chest indicates cause of death.
I'll need to take him to the shop to confirm and identify a murder weapon.
- Wrists and ankles are restrained. - Yeah, some kind of steel wire.
So, someone restrained this guy, killed him, wrapped him in plastic,
and then was about to ship him overseas.
Turns out he was dying to travel.
Oh, come on. That was a good one.
Do we know where the crate was shipped from?
Still tracking down the bill of lading.
And I spoke to the first officers on the scene.
They didn't find any cellphone or I.D. on the victim.
Carlos, show me what's under that sleeve?
"R.H.C."
You thinking maybe...
The initials of a very rich man.
Richard Harris Crawford.
I just read a piece about Crawford
in Ocean Drive magazine.
Yep. That's him, all right.
In the mid-'90s, he completely reinvented himself.
Went from Texas oilman and venture capitalist
to South Beach patron of the arts.
Miami in the '90s... Now, that was a scene.
South Beach went from coked-out hookers and heroin junkies
to Madonna and Versace.
I'm sorry. Did you say "went from"?
Yeah.
In less than three years, Richard Crawford
built the downtown art scene up from nothing,
literally put Miami on the world-art-scene map.
He became the largest art buyer in Florida
with a private collection worth a half-a-billion dollars.
So, we're thinking his murder and the start of Art Basel
is not a coincidence.
Okay, I'm thinking that his murder and the start of Art Basel
- is not a coincidence. - Probably not.
Art Basel is more than just a week-long gathering
for the rich and beautiful to party and ogle
over the world's most sought-after art.
There's serious money at stake.
Last year, the festival generated over
$800 million in art sales in just five days.
Wow. That's 150 bad investments an hour.
You'd be surprised... half the pieces that sold last year
have more than tripled in value.
What?! That's crazy.
No crazier than whoever killed our patron Saint of Art Basel.
Which unfortunately means
that whoever said art was dead wasn't kidding.
The Glades 04x10 Gallerinas Original Air Date August 5, 2013
==sync, correction by dcdah== for www.addic7ed.com
[ Sighs ]
[ Horn honks ]
[ Siren wails in distance ]
Mmm.
I know I'm getting old, but, um, remind me.
Before I left for my conference in Madrid,
did I ask you to treat any of my patients?
From the look on your face, I'd say that's a "no."
Darius Locke was in a tremendous amount of pain.
His team physician gave him
a cortisone injection four months ago.
Treatments should be administered
in no more than 18-month intervals.
Yes, I'm aware.
Are you also aware that you need to have
a patient's entire medical history
before providing any medical care?
I didn't have access to his team doctor's files
until after I gave him the cortisone injection.
I-I made a mistake.
Well, he contracted a joint infection.
Which could have happened at anytime during his treatment,
and... that is just an excuse, I know.
Your field is emergency medicine.
You can't spot a dope addict
when he comes sniffing around looking for a fix?
I understand, Dr. Hardy.
And it won't happen again.
Oh, you're damn right it won't.
Now, I got rounds.
[ Whistles ] [ Chuckles ]
Houses like this make me nervous.
Look at this. This couch alone?
Probably cost more than my car.
The couch, Carlos? Try the pillows.
This place is like walking into a museum.
Crawford definitely had a preference to what he collected.
Modern. Contemporary.
Nothing before the art nouveau movement.
[ Chuckles ] How the hell do you know that?
Chicago has some of the best museums in the country.
Uh, walking past them doesn't count.
Three months of subfreezing winters, Carlos.
There's only so many movies you can see, right?
You find anything in here?
- Daniel? - Hmm?
Oh, no. Nothing on her... In here.
Sorry. I-I've never been in a place this nice before.
Everywhere I look is something I'm afraid to touch.
Well, you don't need to be looking or touching that.
I've seen these nudes all over the house.
Looks like the same woman, same style.
- Probably the same artist. - Alexander Barnes.
All the nudes were painted during his "Rose" period.
His website links to his representation,
- the Koski Gallery. - I know that gallery.
- Walking past it doesn't count. - Uh, this time it does.
Marisol makes me go to these art walks
every, uh, couple of months... Says it keeps us cultured.
Does it? No, but there's free food and drink,
- which makes me happy. - Huh.
Alexander Barnes is showing at the Koski Gallery during Art Basel.
I just received an e-mail with the bill of lading
- from the shipping company. - Oh, let me guess...
Richard Crawford's body was shipped from the Koski Gallery?
Well, I hope they insured for loss or damage
or, you know, murder.
[ Indistinct conversations ]
Brilliant, isn't it?
Uh, yeah... brilliant.
Yeah, that's the word I was looking for.
[ Sighs ] You could pour yourself into it for hours
and never see the same thing twice.
Actually, what I was looking for was the price tag.
Which, I know, if you have to ask, you can't afford, right? [ Chuckles ]
Uh, but if you're Hanna Koski,
then I think I found what I'm looking for.
Oh, this is about Richard, isn't it?
I'm still in shock. I just saw him a few days ago.
- Oh, that is awful. - I know.
No, I mean the look on your face,
which I'm assuming is for my benefit?
Meaning what, that I had something to do the murder?
That's ridiculous.
Well, the body was shipped from this gallery.
We've shipped dozens of pieces over the last week.
Do you have any idea how crazy it gets around here during Art Basel?
I know how crazy people get when there's $800 million at stake.
[ Chuckling ] Money really isn't an issue for me, detective.
- My family has plenty of it. - Huh.
Richard was an old family friend.
I've known him since I was a little girl, and I loved him.
Oh, you, uh... loved him?
What? No, not like that. That's, like, disgusting.
- He was like a father to me. - Okay.
So, like, uh, last time you and Daddy Richard were together,
uh, what did you guys, like, talk about?
What is...?
I was Richard's exclusive art buyer.
We were discussing which pieces he was gonna purchase
from Alexander Barnes' new works.
The same Alexander Barnes
who did all those romantic, rosy nudes, but now does this?
Okay, this... is genius.
His dalliance with emptiness
expressed in sallow, anguished tones,
void of lesser meaning.
Dalliance, emptiness, yeah, lesser meaning.
What's behind here?
That's where we crate and ship our purchases.
Oh, where my victim was shipped?
I'm sorry, detective,
but we have millions of dollars worth of art back there.
For insurance purposes,
I can't allow you access without a warrant.
Okay, for someone with boatloads of family money,
you sure seem stressed-out.
I am stressed because it is Art Basel
and your investigation is scaring away my customers.
No, I'm pretty sure that's Alex's
dalliance with emptiness.
So, I mean, why... why the creative makeover?
[ Scoffs ] He's Alexander Barnes.
He doesn't need a reason.
He paints what he paints, and what he paints is brilliant.
You can't put genius in a box.
Well, someone put my victim in one.
So, maybe you want to tell me
who was responsible for the shipping?
Sasha Graham, but my father fired her three days ago.
Oh, yeah. Actually, I need to talk to your father.
Well, he's at our London gallery 6 months out of the year.
I run this gallery when he's abroad.
Oh, so, he didn't fire Sasha. You did.
[ Gasps ]
Just... yes! Okay, fine!
I fired her.
Okay, busiest week of the year,
and you fired the person responsible for shipping?
That doesn't make sense,
unless, of course, you're trying to hide a murder.
I did not kill Richard, detective.
And I fired Sasha because she's a total interloper
with, like, zero breeding and no self-control.
No self-control?
Sasha had this way-over-the-top argument with Richard
at our Art Basel preview
right before all my biggest clients.
It was totally unprofessional.
And what was this over-the-top argument about?
Honestly, I have no idea.
Now, if you'll excuse me, I have buyers to attend to.
Oh, no. Attend away.
Just don't go skipping off into the renaissance period.
[ Beeping ]
Colleen?
Yeah, I need you to look into a warrant.
Richard Crawford died of a fully penetrated wound to the heart.
So, we're looking for a knife?
It's not consistent with an incised wound from a knife.
Uh, murder weapon is most likely a hard-metal object
with an abraded edge,
approximately 1.6 inches in diameter.
Kind of sounds like those tools that I'm guessing
they keep in the back room of the Koski Gallery
for all the packaging and framing.
I've got to tell you.
A man Crawford's size wouldn't just sit there
while you pound a stake of some kind into his chest.
Which means he had to be drugged or subdued somehow?
There's no indication of any blow to the head.
I'm still waiting on the tox report
but according to his medical record, he wasn't on any medications.
Detective, I have checked, and Hanna's father has been
in London for the past three months.
I also looked into Hanna's cellphone records.
Nothing unusual, except for the last month.
Hanna got daily automated calls
from a local pharmacy that "her order was ready."
They've really wanted her to pick this up.
Okay, look into that. Anything on Sasha Graham?
I found her mentioned a few times in some online art sites.
The majority of gallery employees
are women in their early 20s.
They're kind of their own subculture.
They even have a nickname... Gallerinas.
Gallerinas? Is that a real job?
Basically over-glorified assistants minus the glory.
Sounds familiar.
They make minimum wage, have prestigious art-history degrees
from top-notch universities, and spend most of their time
partying with the rich and famous.
In the hopes that one day, they'll own their own gallery
and be just as fabulous in real life
as they are in their own minds.
These women sound like my worst nightmare.
Oh, trust me. Having just met a Gallerina,
- I can confirm that. - Hmm.
And they also love a healthy dose
of backstabbing and smack talk.
I just can't wait to hear what Sasha has to say about Hanna.
Sasha tweeted that she's at an art event
promoting her pop-up show tomorrow night in South Beach.
Pop-up? Last-minute art event, usually at a bar, café, or restaurant.
That sounds pretty low-rent.
Sasha couldn't have been happy with getting fired.
Maybe she blames Richard for making her a Ghetto Gallerina.
[ Dance music plays ]
[ Indistinct conversations ]
- Sasha Graham? - Yes?
Haven't I seen you somewhere before?
That is so hilariously not original...
It's original. Hi.
Oh-kay.
I am sorry. I am terrible with names.
Who do you represent again?
Uh, taxpayers, mostly. FDLE?
The police.
Sorry. I thought you were someone I should talk to.
Oh, trust me.
As the naked woman who's hanging all over the walls of my murder victim's house,
I'm definitely someone you need to talk to.
I already see when you finally put your clothes on,
that you like the expensive kind.
How do you pay for those pricy threads? Credit-card debt?
Uh, rich parents?
Mmm, yeah. No, that's not me.
When I decide I want something, I figure out how to get it.
I'm not some aimless d-bag or a spoiled trustafarian like Hanna.
No, but you were spoiled by Richard Crawford.
As in his recent credit-card charges
from Valentino, Chloé... oh, all women's stores.
Oh, maybe he was a cross-dresser on the D.L.
[ Chuckles ] Good one.
Or he was your sugar daddy and had had his fill of you
and moved on to his next Gallerina.
Is that what your over-the-top argument
was about at the gallery?
- He dumped you? - Mm.
Okay, first of all, Gallerina? Totally sexist.
And, yeah, okay.
I was sleeping with him, and he bought me stuff,
only because I'm an awesome, loving human being.
Listen, Art Basel is all about how you look, okay?
And I already did the whole ironic $10 target dress
and payless shoes last year, so, yeah, no, I'm good with myself.
Good enough to kill Richard and pack him in a crate for cutting you off?
I mean, that is your job, isn't it?
Or was, until boss and Head Gallerina Hanna Koski
fired you for being lame.
[ Scoffs ] That's ridic.
And despite what skank-ass Hanna thought of me,
I would have continued seeing Richard if he wasn't so needy.
You broke up with a billionaire? Yeah, that's ridic.
Richard just wanted me as arm candy,
and that's not what I'm about.
My career is everything to me,
and I've never compromised who I am to be with a man.
Not even for Alexander Barnes, who you quite publicly
compromised yourself on a regular basis.
[ Scoffs ] I posed nude for Alex because he's a genius.
And when a genius asks you to expose yourself,
you expose everything.
You should try being that vulnerable, detective.
It's a total mind flip.
Mm, yeah. I'll get back to you on that. [ Cellphone rings ]
In the meantime, uh, don't go posing for any passport photos
or leave the country without checking with me first. [ Beep ]
- Hmm. - Colleen?
Richard Crawford gave Hanna Koski
access to a bank account.
It was designated solely for art purchases.
Two weeks ago, he cut her off and froze the account.
Surrogate daddy cut off stressed-out Hanna's allowance?
That had to piss her off.
Oh, it did. Check your text messages.
Daniel sent you a vine of Hanna
he found on a bunch of art blogs.
Apparently that drink in the face is all
anyone at Art Basel's
been texting, tweeting, and blogging about.
That's not how you treat a pseudo-family friend.
And it looks like Hanna was ready
to paint the town blood red.
It was a disagreement, detective.
It was nothing to kill over.
Even after he froze your access to his personal art accounts?
Embarrassing you in front of
everyone who's anyone in the process?
Okay, fine.
He got a little angry over our commissions,
but galleries inflate prices for their artists all the time.
It's so that they eventually sell better at auction.
- It builds the gallery's prestige. - Okay.
Just because everyone's doing it doesn't mean that Crawford
was happy that you were lying to him and taking his money.
Are you kidding? Richard was a bazillionaire.
He never blinked at prices.
Money was his way of controlling people.
He froze that account to punish me.
So, you punished him with that, I'm guessing?
1.6 inches.
And what is that? Do you smell chlorine?
Uh, it's bleach.
Looks like this entire section of wall has also been cleaned.
Which means we just found the crime scene.
And this... Looks like blood.
On very familiar-looking wire.
Oh, did I tell you Crawford had his wrists were tied?
As in a man his size would have to be subdued in order
to allow a woman your size to pound a chisel into his chest?
Look... Richard embarrassed me in front of
some very prominent New York City curators,
and I threw a drink in his face.
I bruised his ego, and he cut off the account.
- That's all it was. - Embarrassed you about what?
What it was always about with Richard.
He considered himself a taste maker
and didn't like it when you questioned his taste.
As in Alexander Barnes' new artistic direction?
[ Sighs ] I loved it. He despised it.
He called it the three d's...
Dark, depressing, and derivative,
nothing like his previous work.
The rosy nudes of Crawford's former lame lover?
Said he wouldn't perpetuate the myth
that Alex was some kind of genius,
called his new works rubbish,
and refused to buy a single piece from his collection.
Insulting two birds with one stone.
Well, I wonder what dark, depressing, and derivative
Alexander Barnes thought about that assessment.
You're wrong, detective.
I would never kill Richard Crawford
because he wasn't a fan of my new work.
Hey, babe. Chin up, and out a little?
Yeah. Okay.
See, he was the single largest collector of my work.
Why would I kill him?
Because as the largest collector,
he could make or break you, and he chose to break you,
dismissing your new work as rubbish
and refusing to buy a single piece. [ Scoffs ]
You obviously have no idea how the world of art works.
Mm, maybe not.
But I do know how jealousy and murder work.
And your new work has all the signs
of a man in a not-so-cheery place.
But, hey, if my lover and muse
left me for an older, richer man,
I probably would slip into a depression, too,
or jealous rage.
I was neither jealous nor depressed.
But you couldn't handle losing Sasha to Richard.
So, you knocked him off
in the most dramatic way you knew how.
And by shipping him out as a piece of art,
you were making a statement.
[ Chuckles ]
That would be ironic. It's also wrong.
I slept with Sasha a few times. Why not?
She's... gorgeous. She was game.
My single human emotion towards her was lust.
Richard was not a rival.
He bought my art. He helped launch my career.
Yeah, just not this Art Basel.
This one, Richard gave a... A billionaire's thumbs down.
Yeah, which is Richard's loss,
and it helps to have more than one collector, okay?
And I will sell everything by the end of Art Basel. You'll see.
I'll see you on death row if it turns out
you've let your artistic, raging ego get in the way.
Wow. I don't get it.
Blood from that spindle of wire doesn't match the victim's.
Well, maybe the killer missed a spot on his cleaning spree.
Hope so, because it's definitely
the same wire they used to tie him...
Same gauge and type of steel.
I've asked Manus for a warrant request...
A warrant request for Hanna Koski and Sasha Graham's DNA.
- Yeah, yeah. I'm already on it. - Then my work here is done.
And you can add Alexander Barnes to that warrant list, as well.
And where are we on Crawford's financials?
Ahh, my first billionaire.
Turns out his financial history
is as long and complicated as the U.S. tax code.
Hmm.
I've got three forensics accountants
sifting through all of it.
What about his will?
I'm still trying to track down the executor
to get a copy of it.
I was able to get one piece of information, though.
Richard had a little slush fund.
How little? $5 million.
His walking-around money was the GDP of a small African nation?
And this one-man nation cut a $400,000 check to Sasha Graham
and then immediately stopped payment.
I wonder what she did to deserve that.
Or more like what did she stop doing?
Oh, and, um...
That thing we're not talking about?
You know, the Jeff thing?
Tacoma, Washington?
Called three times, same time each day.
Could be family.
Or maybe a friend of Jeff's you don't know about.
Jim...
think carefully about what you want to do.
Thank you.
[ Indistinct conversations ]
Seriously?
Seriously.
You can't seriously still think
that I had anything to do with Richard's murder.
I know, right? It does defy logic.
But then I found this...
Richard's canceled check to you for, ooh, $400,000.
Wow. What happened?
He, uh, cut you off when you cut him off in the bedroom?
I'm sorry. I thought we cleared up the whole whore thing already.
And, yet, evidence keeps piling up to the contrary.
That check was for an art deal.
I discovered this new, amazing street artist in Spain,
convinced Richard he was the new Banksy.
The money was for three of his pieces. Or three of yours.
I mean, come on.
You wanted to be Crawford's exclusive art buyer,
a move that would launch your career.
So, you thought to yourself,
"Hey. What's a few rolls in the hay? I can live with that, huh?"
Until you realized that he had no intention of seeing you
seriously as an art buyer or even as a girlfriend.
Okay, yeah, whatever. I was upset. Richard didn't see my potential.
To him, I was just another Gallerina with a nice ass.
But I didn't kill him, detective. I swear I didn't.
Alexander: [ Voice breaking ] Get out of my way! [ Woman gasps ]
These are not for sale! These are private sketches!
Oh, my God! I'm being gutted!
Okay, Alex. I think you've had a little too much to drink, yeah?
How could you do this to me? How can you sell my sketches?!
They're not your sketches! You gave them to me! They're mine!
Not to sell in some bar, you whore!
Whoa, whoa! Hey, hey! Hey, hey, hey! Okay! Okay!
Let's settle down, huh?
I love you, Sasha. I love you.
Oh, my God. You are so pathetic.
- Oh, really? - You whore!
I gave you everything.
I gave you my heart and my soul, and this is how you treat me?
I love you so much, I hate you!
Yeah, there is that fine line between love and hate.
Seriously.
Come on. Walk it off.
So, for someone whose only human emotion for Sasha
was nothing more than lust,
you sure went to jealousy and rage real fast.
I spent a year of my life... painting Sasha...
Making love to her, adoring her.
How could she just sell my sketches like that, huh?
How can someone so beautiful be so heartless and so cruel?
Oh, you'd be surprised how often those two go hand-in-hand.
- I loved her, detective. - But she didn't love you.
All she cared about was being immortalized in your paintings.
To her, you were just a meal ticket...
oh, well, one of them, anyway.
It goes with the territory.
I'm surrounded by parasitic phonies and hypocrites.
Like Richard Crawford, who was a friend to your face,
banging your muse behind your back.
- That had to hurt. - I don't blame Richard.
I certainly didn't kill him.
But you needed Sasha
to keep your creative juices flowing, yeah?
To keep your gloom at bay.
Pain and suffering
are the currency of any great artist, detective.
Oh, no. I've seen your suffering, Picasso,
and trust me, it's painful.
And without Sasha, your genius wasn't selling.
And, hey. Muses don't grow on trees.
I would have found someone else
and I would never resort to murder.
Really? Because according to Richard's security company,
you'd just recently made it
to the top of their "Do not admit" list... [ Inhales deeply ]
Which means I'm thinking you went around to his house
and did more than just tear art off his walls.
Okay, fine! I'll admit it!
When I first heard about the affair...
I was angry, and I went to talk to Richard.
I behaved like an animal. I'm not proud of it.
But I certainly wouldn't kill him.
See, my life's purpose is to create.
It's to build something from nothing.
Not destroy it.
[ Clears throat ]
You can cut Pablo loose.
I have a match on the blood from the frame-hanging wire.
It's Sasha Graham.
[ Scoffs ] Of course it is.
Okay, so a little of my blood was found in the back room.
That's really not surprising since I did
all the gallery hangings and most of the framing.
Oh, my God. I love Art Basel.
There is, like, 10 things tonight.
Things?
- Parties? - Ahh.
Which, actually, I really need to get ready for.
And, seriously, the whole blood thing is so not a big deal.
Okay, you're not understanding
how being dumped by my murder victim,
who was keeping you in all these designer... things,
is a big enough deal to make you a prime suspect.
[ Whistles ]
Fine, whatever.
Listen. I liked Richard, but I didn't like like him.
I feel bad that he's dead,
but I don't know what you want me to do, like, open a wrist?
Wow! That is cruel and heartless, just like Alex said.
Oh, please. Alex is so dramatic.
You saw how he flipped out at my thing.
If by that you mean popping up at your pop-up show
where you were selling his sketches...
Gifts from the heart that you saw as just cold, hard cash.
Yeah, kind of shows me how cruel and heartless you can be.
Richard was Hanna's client, and it was her gallery.
She's the one with daddy issues and bat-shit crazy eyes.
Okay, you're sleeping with a guy who's old enough to be your dad,
and she's the one with daddy issues?
Speaking of.
Yeah, that's me and my dad at his office.
Wow, you look almost not completely self-consumed here.
But then again, you were, what, 3, 4, right?
4, and, uh, if you're not planing on arresting me,
there's a thing at Cameo,
and I only have like three hours to get ready.
Three hours?
The horror.
Sasha: You can show yourself out. [ Chuckles ]
[ Beep ]
[ Camera shutter clicks ] Boop.
[ Cellphone rings ] Carlos?
My tox report came back.
Richard was dosed with a very large amount of Diazepam.
It's an antianxiety medication.
Which I assume made him very sleepy.
Oh, no, he was down for the count, all right.
And, uh, there's no record of our victim ever having
a prescription for anything stronger than Viagra.
Well, Daniel said Hanna got a daily call from a pharmacy
about a prescription.
I mean, considering her bundle of nerves,
I'm assuming it wasn't for an antibiotic.
You want me to have Daniel get a warrant in the works to find out?
Well, what's the point of having a Danielrina
if you can't put him to work?
[ Chuckles ] You got it.
[ Beeping ]
Hey, look at you,
helping your mom with the groceries.
Have you seen my phone?
I knew it was too good to be true.
You lost your phone again?
I didn't lose it. I misplaced it.
I'm not buying you another one, Jeff.
Mom, it's not lost. I just... can't find it.
Well, when was the last time you saw it?
If I knew that, it wouldn't be lost.
I'm sorry.
Yeah.
What time is it?
- Why? Are you expecting a call? - No.
Not that I know of.
Want some help?
That would be nice.
Did you hear the news about Darius Locke?
- He's out. - Out?
Yeah, he's benched for the rest of the season.
Why? What happened?
He collapsed during a lay-up after practice.
Yeah, all the sports blogs are talking about
how his career is probably over.
Sucks, right?
Yeah.
Daniel, I sent you a photo
I took from Sasha's apartment/walk-in closet.
Yeah, I just got it.
That's it, yeah. Enlarge it and send it back to me?
It's the only thing I could find that was personal in her apartment,
and the only thing she didn't buy
at, like, Bergdorf Goodman.
There must be a reason why. You got it.
Oh, and the warrant came through for Hanna's pharmacy records.
Good.
She was on a cocktail of lithium and... Diazepam.
But the pharmacist
was specifically calling about her lithium prescription.
Lithium. That's for depression, right?
It's actually prescribed more
for the treatment of mania and bipolar disorder.
And if someone with bipolar goes off their lithium?
That someone can experience a manic episode.
Which can turn violent.
Either swing of that pendulum isn't pretty,
but violence is not uncommon.
The pharmacist said Hanna finally picked up
her medication a few days ago.
It may have been too little, too late.
I've confirmed that the chisel from the gallery matches
the diameter from the victim's puncture wound.
Any usable prints? It was wiped clean with bleach like the rest of
the packing and shipping area in Hanna's gallery.
But we definitely have the murder weapon.
Hanna: Thank you all for coming today.
I think this is such a fitting place to say goodbye
to our beloved benefactor and patron of the arts,
Richard Crawford,
surrounded by what he loved the most, art,
and by the people who loved him the most, his art family.
Jim: Wow.
Even a funeral is a performance for you people.
Huh. I feel totally underdressed.
I am sorry, detective,
but is this really the best time for this?
Well, I could wait for you outside,
where you'd probably see me and run.
Or I could wait for your meds wear off,
and I can watch you go berserk on all these nice people.
So, um... yeah.
Yeah. Now is probably the best time.
Hands, please. Thank you.
[ Indistinct whispering ] I know. It's very sad.
Uh, sir. Your mascara is running. Just so you know.
Thank you. Excuse us.
Excuse me, Dr. Hardy? Do you have a minute?
I just want you to know that
I've been thinking a lot about our last conversation,
and I understand why you're mad at me.
I'm not mad at you.
Disappointed, then. I messed up with Darius.
I should have known that he was fishing for drugs.
And now he's hurt, and he might not ever play again.
Darius Locke is an idiot.
He was an idiot long before you gave him that shot.
There's no shot for stupid, so stop beating yourself up.
Anything else?
- No. That's it. - Mm.
Oh, yeah. Yeah. Um, I'll need your keys.
- My keys? - To the office.
I don't understand.
The keys to my office. What's not to understand?
You're firing me?
I'm not firing you. You're done.
Done?
This was a six-week fellowship.
Okay, I guess I just thought
that maybe there was some flexibility there.
Do I look flexible to you?
Callie, we're in different fields of medicine.
There's nothing more I can teach you.
But there's still plenty for you to learn, so go learn it.
So, your father says hi.
My father? You called my father?
He also says to tell you that he loves you and supports you. [ Sighs ]
Well, assuming that you didn't kill his best friend
and biggest client, that is.
And he thought that some years later, this might come back.
That was three years ago.
Mnh.
In between your junior and senior year at Columbia,
You spent six months in a psychiatric hospital.
I had a hard time adjusting, okay?
It was a really hard school,
and I was in a very demanding program.
Oh, no, yeah, those strolls through the Louvre
can really send someone over the edge.
I was stressed. I needed a break from things.
Stressed? [ Scoffs ]
You attacked a curator with a nail file
when he caught you dry-humping a Rodin.
Dr. Lewis said I did that, but I don't remember.
Now that I believe. People that have manic
episodes often don't remember what they did.
I don't see what my medical history has anything to do with this!
It really is nobody's business!
But Richard Crawford made it his business.
You know, as a family friend,
he knew something was up with you.
So he contacted a facility in California,
asked about getting you a private room.
He thought that you were losing control.
He was trying to help.
And you reacted by proving his point...
By throwing a drink in his face
and stabbing him in the chest three days later.
He only picked the worst possible time to out me...
The week before Art Basel!
[ Sighs ] I'm not feeling very well.
Can I just please get to my purse?
My... my medication is in there. The Diazepam?
The same antianxiety medication
we found in Richard's blood system.
Look... I know people think I'm losing it.
But I swear I have everything under control.
And I know this might sound crazy, but I only
got off my meds because they make me gain weight,
and I just wanted to look good for Art Basel.
Yep. That does sound crazy, all right.
And when Richard confronted me, yes, I got mad.
But I was also scared, and the idea of going back
to a hospital terrified the hell out of me,
so I started taking my pills again.
[ Sighs ] I swear, detective.
I did not kill Richard Crawford.
[ Sighs ]
Jim: Really? Dr. Hardy fired you again?
That's like, three... No, four...
No three times you've been fired already.
I guess technically he didn't fire me.
Well, then what did he technically do?
Well, he said that he hired me for a six-week fellowship,
and the six weeks were up, I was done.
Okay. So, then, he didn't really fire you.
Well, it sure feels like I've been fired.
I know the Darius thing was a disaster,
but I did some good work for him.
And this is the thanks I get?
"Give me your keys, your six weeks are over.
You're done."
Oh, I meant to ask you. Have you seen Jeff's phone?
- Uh, Jeff's cellphone? - Yeah, he lost it.
He's been looking all over the house for it,
and, uh, he thinks maybe he left it at your house.
Uh, my place? Um, oh, maybe.
I'll look for it and get back to you.
Uh, I really have to go.
- Okay. I love you. Bye. - Love you. Bye.
- Not even going to ask. - Good. What do you got?
Finally got a copy of Crawford's will.
He was a longtime bachelor with no living heirs.
I picked him for the kind of guy
that would have three ex-trophy-wives.
Well, he's leaving his estate to three charities...
Doctors Without Borders,
International Child Art Foundation,
and the Sierra Club.
Sierra Club?
That's and interesting choice for an oilman.
Even more interesting?
His entire art collection is heading to
the Museum of Modern Art in New York City.
He'll basically have his own wing.
Wait, that collection includes
most of Alexander Barnes' work over the past five years.
Exactly... So I looked into
how much Barnes' paintings are currently worth.
The average price at auction
happens to be on a very steep decline.
But if gets them into a museum like MOMA,
the prices go up, up, up.
And he'll be filthy rich and famous.
Bet he wasn't counting on being infamous instead.
No model today?
I'm busy! Get out!
Okay, but you're coming with me.
I'm not going anywhere. I'm not done.
How can you tell? I'm in the middle of this.
You have to leave. I'm not leaving without you.
And I'm not leaving till I'm done!
Okay.
Oh, God! God! Now you're done!
No! Oh, my... oh, God.
Oh, my God. It's done.
You're welcome.
Richard's entire art collection
was gifted to the museum of modern art.
Which means no matter
what gloomy piece of rubbish you'd crank out...
[ Laughs ] your fame and fortune were about to skyrocket.
Except that Richard never told me
where his art was going after he died.
It's kind of a morbid conversation, don't you think?
What I think is that you were determined to be
one of those rare artists
that enjoyed their wealth and fame while still alive.
But in order for that to happen, Richard had to be dead.
What... you think I'd kill Richard
just to get into the Museum of Modern Art?
Mm-hmm.
[ Laughs ] I'm young, detective.
I'm at the beginning of my career.
I would have eventually made it into MOMA.
[ Laughs ] No, good luck with that.
Your current show is bombing.
You had a falling-out with your biggest patron,
who, by the way, was sleeping with your muse,
and I've seen the way you handle rejection,
and it ain't pretty.
[ Laughs ] Okay.
My relationship with Richard was volatile.
I'll admit it.
But... the truth is, I'd be nothing without him.
Richard Crawford was like a father to me.
When he started collecting me,
it made me feel like something I never felt before,
like who I was and what I did... just mattered.
All I ever wanted from Richard was his approval.
His approval?
It's not exactly angst-ridden.
But even Monet, who hated waterscapes,
painted water lilies to win his father's approval,
and his father had been dead half a century.
Huh.
[ Police radio chatter ]
[ Sighs ]
You were right, detective.
I enlarged that photo from Sasha's apartment
and was able to positively identify it
as a company once owned by Sasha's father.
I also looked up the artist
who did the painting hanging in our victim's bedroom.
It's by an artist from Mexico
who was popular in the early '90s with first-time collectors.
So not worth much today? Not even as much as it was worth 20 years ago.
Also, a copy of the minutes from her father's final board meeting
and his last tax filings, where I also came across this.
Ohh.
Thank you, Daniel.
Seriously? Me again?
What am I supposed to do with this?
Compare it to this,
as in I knew I'd seen that painting somewhere before.
And not just across from Richard Crawford's bed,
where I'm guessing you spent
many a blissful afternoon living the good life...
or should I say Richard's good life...
staring at that painting
and just wondering where you'd seen it before.
I don't know what you're talking about.
And then, just like me, it hit you.
That's the same painting that was in
your father's commercial real-estate office. There, see?
It's right behind your father's desk.
When I saw it in Richard's house,
it just didn't make sense as part of his collection
until I saw the family photo.
Okay, so, it's a cheap reproduction.
There's probably hundreds of them made.
No, actually. We checked.
No, it's an original by an artist named Crisoforo,
who for a minute and a half 20 years ago
was prized by first-time collectors.
That's how you got interested in art.
Your father was a collector... Or would have been
if Richard Crawford hadn't snatched away
his lucrative real-estate business in a hostile takeover.
'Cause Richard wasn't just an oilman, was he?
He was a corporate raider,
and your father was just another business that he raided,
spoils of war that included this painting.
Okay, give me... - But the painting and your father's
business weren't the only things that he took from your family, was it?
Your father never recovered.
He slipped into a depression and drank himself to death.
Okay, give me the painting. That was my dad's favorite. He loved that thing!
And you loved your father...
love that led to your love of art and a career
that you'd hoped would actually bring you closer to him.
And Richard, you remembered,
was a friend of your dad's back in the day,
but you were spared the ugly details because you were too young.
All you knew about Richard was that he was
a taste maker in the world of art, and you wanted in.
And he let you in... right in through the front door and into his bedroom.
Because apparently there was one more thing of your father's
he wanted to complete his collection.
That sick son of a bitch.
He knew what he did to my dad, and he never said a word.
It wasn't enough for him to rip my dad's heart out.
He had to rip mine out, too! Now give me the painting!
Sorry, Sasha. It's evidence now.
Give me the painting, or I'll kill you, too!
Sasha, you really don't want to do this.
You are a son of a bi...
Oh! Aah!
All right. Let me go!
Now who's got the bat-shit crazy eyes?
[ Siren wailing ]
Huh. Talk about Greek tragedy.
I mean, here she tries to win her father's love posthumously
by following his love of art
and ends up in the arms of the man responsible for his death.
And then gave him a piece of her mind, so to speak.
Slipped him some of Hanna's Diazepam,
tied him up, waited for him to wake up,
so she could tell him exactly why she was killing him.
Then drove a stake right through his heart, like he did hers.
Mnh, mnh, mnh.
That is some hard-core daddy issues at work there.
Uh-huh.
Speaking of daddy issues... Any updates on Jeff?
What am I supposed to do, Colleen?
- Wait for something bad to happen? - Jim.
Callie's worked so hard to move them forward from the mistakes of Ray's past.
I mean, yes, even if I am crossing the line,
how do I do nothing when there's something I can do
to help them from getting hurt?
[ Police radio chatter ]
I know we're in different fields, but I still felt like
there was a lot I could have learned from Dr. Hardy.
You mean how not to behave around the people you work with?
He had his good side, too, not that I ever saw it much.
I thought he liked me.
No, I'm sure he did.
And more importantly, he respected you...
and obviously wants to see
you go back to school and become a doctor.
Yeah, maybe you're right.
Oh, hey. I'm cooking dinner.
Is there any way that you could swing by your house
and see about Jeff's phone?
Uh, yeah.
No, I can do that.
He's like an addict going through withdrawals.
I can imagine. [ Chuckles ] All right. I'll see you soon.
Yeah.
[ Beep ]
[ Cellphone ringing ]
[ Beep ]
Ray?
[ Click ]
==sync, correction by dcdah== for www.addic7ed.com
[ Beep ]