Hey!
I need help here.
Thanks for nothing!
Hey.
Hey, buddy!
Yeah, you.
I'm a little surprised you can see me.
I got two eyes, don't I?
Y-You got a cell phone on you?
Why? 'Cause I-I think I need to, to call the cops.
The cops? What are you talking about?
My wife just tried to kill me.
Really?
I was sitting in the den, watching the end of the game.
She was in the kitchen doing dishes.
Out of nowhere, she calls out and wants to know
i-if I got my beer on a coaster.
So I says, "No.
No, I don't have my beer on a coaster."
So she yells back, "How many times, Vincent?
How many times have I told you about the coaster?"
So I says, "I don't know.
"How many times have I asked you
to stop being ugly?"
And then, I didn't hear anything,
but, like, a second later,
she comes flying out of the kitchen.
She-She's got a carving knife in her hand,
and she's got this look in her eyes.
Next thing I know, she's on top of me
and I, I got my hands around her wrist,
and her ugly face is right up against mine.
Somehow, I push her off a-and, and I start running,
out the door, down the block.
I-I-I ran all the way to the boulevard here.
I mean, this is the first I've stopped.
Look at me, look at me.
I'm shaking.
What?
I'm sorry, it's just I... I think I get it.
The reason why you can see me, the reason why you can hear me.
You're dead.
I beg your pardon?
Your wife... she got you with the knife.
I'm guessing she was on top of you?
She got you.
Th-The running,
the boulevard, that was all after.
You're nuts.
Quite possibly, but I'm, I'm right about this.
You're dead, I'm dead.
We're dead.
You're dead?
I'm dead?
Thanks, anyway.
I'll get a phone somewhere else.
I-I got mugged.
Right here in this alley.
Uh, guy was high as a kite.
He pulled a gun.
Here, come on, let me show you.
Look.
Ooh. You all right?
I just had the oddest dream.
I'm going to assume you said that with a straight face.
Where you going?
I'm going to call the authorities.
Come on.
It's Saturday night.
You already worked a pretty long and sleepless week.
Don't you think this'll keep till morning?
I'm gonna take that as a no.
Mm, beat me to the paper again,
huh, you little newshound?
It's the only day of the week
when they let the comics be in color.
You don't mind if I read the Op-Ed section before you,
do you?
Where's Mommy?
She had to go into work.
On a Sunday?
Apparently, crime does not work a five-day week.
Will she be coming back soon?
Uh, I don't know.
But she said
she was gonna help me with my diorama this afternoon.
Relax, Bridge, relax.
No diorama drama, okay?
I'm happy to fill in for Mommy.
SCANLON: There was an ATM
right around the corner.
He had a receipt in his pocket.
Apparently, he'd just withdrawn $500.
Whoever it was took the cash, his watch,
left everything else.
Driver's license says his name is Morgan Turley.
Has his family been notified?
So far, we haven't been able to locate any.
What about his friends?
Most of the numbers in his cell phone
were for take-out places.
We're still running everything down.
Apparently, he was self-employed.
We found a business card.
Worked out of his apartment.
I fear this is not someone a whole lot
of people are going to miss.
You okay?
ARIEL: That so doesn't look like George Washington.
Does, too.
Looks more like an old lady in a funny hat to me.
Tell her it's George Washington, Dad.
It is absolutely George Washington.
In fact, I will stake my reputation
as a diorama-maker on it.
However, you bring up an interesting point, Ariel,
one that many young scholars
like yourself have pointed out.
Apparently, any number of our founding fathers,
when viewed in historical paintings,
bear an uncanny resemblance to old ladies in funny hats.
Yeah, that's what men wore back then.
White wigs and weird hats.
It's not their fault
that's what grandmas dress likethesedays.
Bridge, I'm sorry,
but grandmas don't even dress likethatanymore.
I'm Morgan, by the way.
Morgan Turley.
No.
Uh-uh. Uh-uh.
This is really nuts.
No, i-it's not nuts.
It's, it's just the way that it works.
It's me.
I've just passed on, just like you have.
I-I, I know it sounds crazy, but once you accept it,
once you embrace it, it actually feels pretty good.
Come on.
Let me show you something.
I know it's hard to look at.
I know it's hard to accept,
but... you can't spend the rest of forever
running through the streets in your underwear.
Doesn't really look like a millionaire, does she?
ALLISON: Is she?
Well, she will be soon.
That's Cadence Bixby.
She's Morgan Turley's sole heir.
Washea millionaire? No,
but he had a life insurance policy worth that much,
and since she's the only beneficiary,
she wants to offer a reward for any information
leading to the capture of his killer.
Wow.
Is she family?
Actually, she barely knew him.
I don't get it.
Well, apparently, our boy Morgan
really liked cats.
Ms. Bixby
over there was just explaining in great detail
how she rescues strays in her free time.
Brings dozens of the little critters in off the streets,
cleans them up, tries to find them homes.
Long story short, Morgan adopted six of them
from her over the past two years.
Anyway, her coffee's getting cold.
Well, wait a second.
I wanted to ask you: has that second body turned up yet?
Mr. Underwear?
No, but, uh, if I hear anything,
you'll be the first to know.
FYI, uh, I've been asked by Ms. Bixby to spread the word
there's going to be a memorial service
for Mr. Turley at Our Lady of Sorrows tonight at 7:00.
I hear all the coolest cats and kittens are going to be there,
so if you're hoping to get a good seat, I'd sashay in early.
Mm...
JOE: Okay, explain it
to me one more time why you're going
to a memorial service for a man that you didn't even know.
Because he has no one.
He's leaving all his money to a perfect stranger,
for goodness' sake.
And that's your problem because...?
Well, he's not leaving the money to you, is he?
Look, I've been dreaming about this man for, what,
two days now?
Presumably, there's a reason.
Maybe it's to help figure out who did this to him.
Or maybe it's to be there when the few people
that he encountered in his life
gather together to say good-bye.
I'm not smart enough to know.
But I have been doing this long enough to know
that something about this man--
his or his death, maybe-- matters.
Yeah, it's just that yesterday you weren't home.
Tonight, you're going out.
Which reminds me.
I saw Bridgette's diorama in the kitchen.
Who's the old lady in the boat?
You don't get to do that.
What? Did I say something wrong?
If you're not here, you don't get to critique.
Har-dee-har-har.
It wasn't an old lady in the boat?
That's George Washington,
the father of our country,
and if you don't like the way he looks,
I'm sorry. then you should stay home
the next time your daughter has a project.
Okay, I'm sorry, I didn't know.
They all looked like that back then.
: Joe, I'm sorry.
NICK: I'd like to thank
Pastor Grimes again for his lovely eulogy.
And for allowing me to get up here and say a few words
about my good friend, Morgan.
Morgan was a quiet man,
a shy man.
Deep down, I guess... a lonely man.
He kept mostly to himself.
It took time to get to know Morgan.
It took effort.
We grew up together, so I had an advantage.
We knew each other's secrets.
And one of Morgan's biggest secrets
was that he was happiest by himself.
Happiest in his apartment.
Once or twice a month, I could usually drag him out
to a movie or a ball game.
But that was it for him.
Pleasure in small doses.
That was all he could handle.
I'm gonna miss him.
The talks after we would leave the theater.
Or just sitting in his apartment,
staring out the window.
His favorite way to deal with the world.
Good-bye Morgan.
You were a good man
and a great friend.
ALLISON: Mr. Turley?
I'm glad you were able to see this.
I'm glad that you were able to see
that people really do care.
You can see me?
You know that I'm here?
This is weird.
You don't look dead.
I'm not.
It's a long story.
But don't worry; I'm the only one.
Actually, I'm with the District Attorney's office.
And I want to take this opportunity
to assure you we are going to find the person
who did this to you.
We are going to punish the person who did this to you.
You know, it's okay if you don't.
Excuse me?
I got to believe you've got better things to do.
I mean, you find the person that did this to me,
it's not going to change anything.
I'm still going to be dead.
You deserve justice, Mr. Turley.
And we certainly don't want
whoever did this to you to do it again.
Oh, I wouldn't worry about that.
I don't think he would.
I got the distinct impression that this was a one-time thing.
Well, on the off-chance that you're wrong,
is there anything you can tell me
about this man?
He rebuffed you?
He rebuffed me.
I looked down for a second
to get something out of my purse,
and he was gone.
The nerve of some ghosts.
ALLISON: He looked so threatened,
like I was some kind of problem or something.
Well, who knows?
Maybe he was embarrassed.
Embarrassed by what?
Well, the guy's at his own memorial service.
He's spying on his friends,
listening to what they had to say about him.
It's a little narcissistic, it's a little embarrassing
if you get caught at it.
I just wanted him to know that I cared.
I just want him to know
that whoever did this to him
wasn't simply going to get away with it.
All right, I get that, I do,
and I'm sure that he does, too,
so just be patient.
If he really wants your help,
I'm sure he'll come asking for it.
I certainly would if I were dead.
VINCENT: She really did it.
I'm sorry.
I just thought...
you seemed like you really needed to see the truth.
It seemed like you were having a hard time accepting.
Oh.
My grandfather's watch.
Killing me wasn't enough.
She had to make me break that watch.
This watch?
This is a hundred- year-old watch.
My Grandpa DiScala, he gave it to me
on his deathbed.
Let it go, Vincent.
We don't need watches where we're going.
Why, Gladys?!
All right, I know you hated me,
but I never knew you hated me this much.
You know...
for a fellow murder victim,
you're being pretty Zen about all this.
I'm dead.
Why shouldn't I be Zen?
Aren't you ticked?
Don't you want to get the guy who killed you?
I'm beyond all that now; you should be, too.
What happened to you, anyway?
Mugging, huh?
Well... um, not exactly.
What do you mean, "not exactly"?
How'd you end up getting shot in that alley?
I... it's kind of a...
a long story actually.
Look at me, friend.
I got nothing but time, right?
You know what?
I'd rather show you than tell you.
We have to go somewhere else now?
My apartment, yeah.
Uh, seriously, Vincent...
I'm not sure that you want to see this.
Oh... all right, fine.
Your apartment, it is.
SCANLON: Vincent and Gladys DiScala.
Got it.
Anything else?
She cut him up with a saw; that's why we can't find him.
No way to get a warrant,
but once I have an address, I could certainly swing by
and ask a few questions about her husband's whereabouts.
You want to come with?
Can't.
I'm on my way to Morgan Turley's apartment.
What for?
Well, in that same dream, Morgan started to suggest
that maybe there was more to it than just a mugging.
And then he said he'd rather show Vincent
why he was killed than tell him.
He made it sound like the answer was somewhere in his apartment.
I just...
I just want to take a look.
Hey, kitty, kitty.
Oh, kitty.
Can I help you with something?
Hello again.
Hello.
Is there something I can help you with?
I was just looking at this chair.
I was wondering why it was pointing towards the window.
I like looking out the window.
I've always liked looking out the window,
ever since I was a little boy.
Anything else?
No, I...
Do you want me to call someone about your cats?
Maybe that woman you left the money to?
I'm sure you want them to find good homes.
No, don't call her.
I don't want her to see where I lived.
Somebody else, call somebody else.
What? Why are you looking at me like that?
I don't know.
I asked you if you could tell me anything about your killer
the other day, and you just disappeared.
I apologize.
I... I was confused.
You are alive but you could see me.
I didn't understand about people like you.
I'm sorry if I frightened you.
It's okay.
You look nervous.
I'm not nervous.
It's awfully dark in here.
You afraid someone's going to see you?
Hey, wait a second, isn't that her?
Isn't that the woman we were just talking about,
the one you left all that money to?
The one who said that she barely knew you?
Cadence... something?
Did you know she lives right across the way?
A truly ghoulish scene tonight as police continue to find
small pieces of Glendale resident
Vincent DiScala buried throughout the backyard
of his home.
His wife, Gladys DiScala, is being taken into custody,
but so far police refuse
to discuss the specifics of the evidence
against her at this time.
I don't quite know how I'm going to break this
to poor Bridge.
I don't think we have enough magnets
to stick this "A+" diorama
depicting the father of our country
to the refrigerator.
Hmm.
Did I mention the "A+"?
ALLISON: I just don't get it.
Why wouldn't he want to tell me who did this to him?
Give me a description?
Tell me what really happened?
Because he doesn't want you to know.
But why?
Why would a person in their right mind
not want their killer found?
Don't you find it mystifying?
Uh, no. What I find mystifying
is your insistence on helping this man,
despite the fact that he doesn't want it.
He's dead.
Let him lie in peace.
For that matter,
how about the two of us lying in peace?
That makes no sense, that's crazy.
Why protect the person who ended your life?
That's crazy?
How about leaving everything you have
to a woman that you barely knew?
A woman you say this guy peeped on every day?
Consider the source, Allison.
Yeah, well...
I love you, too.
VINCENT: What's the deal with the cats?
What do you mean "What's the deal with the cats"?
They're cats. Don't you like cats?
Not really.
But I guess you do, huh?
I'm allergic, actually.
What? Then how come you got so many?
I mean,hadso many.
You ever been in love, Vincent?
I don't know.
Given the events of the past few days,
and, uh, given the circumstances
of my present condition,
I have to say I would like
to think about that before I answer. Why?
Her?
Looks like she had a party.
She's got a lot to celebrate.
She just came into a lot of money.
Good for her. Yup.
Left her everything I had.
I don't get it.
What's not to get? Look at her.
Okay, but she's alive,
and you're kind of indisposed.
Are you trying to tell me that she may have had
something to do with your...
untimely passing?
It wasn't untimely, Vincent.
It was precisely timed. It was perfectly timed.
Wait a second.
Are you trying to tell me that she's the one who shot you?
You want to hear the whole story?
You want to hear all about it?
Okay.
Hang on a second.
I think somebody else is here.
Somebody is listening to us.
It's you, isn't it?
Nobody invited you here.
Wake up!
Did you hear me?
I said "Wake up." Wake up!
Get your head out of my... death.
You want me to give you a bad dream?
Okay. You asked for it.
: That is so not fair.
Morgan Turley was in love with the cat lady.
Cadence Bixby?
When I heard about that million dollars
he left her, I had a hunch he might have been
more hot than cold on her.
I think he overplayed his hand though.
It's kind of tough to close the deal
from where he is, don't you think?
I think she may have seduced him, talked him
into getting that ridiculous life insurance policy,
and then killed him.
Can we talk to her?
Ms. Bixby?
I'm District Attorney Devalos.
This is Allison Dubois.
Of course, you already know
Detective Scanlon. We very much
appreciate you coming down to speak with us.
Now you've gone too far.
This woman had nothing to do with anything.
Your assistant on the phone said you wanted
to talk to me about what happened to poor Mr. Turley?
Has someone come forward with new information?
Are they trying to claim the reward money that I offered?
Let's talk in the conference room please.
Do you want me to give you bad dreams
every night for the rest of your life?
And that would change my life how, exactly?
I'm begging you, put a stop to this.
No good can come of this.
Tell me what really happened in that alley.
Who shot you?
Why? Why do you care?
You ever heard of the expression
"die in peace"?
DEVALOS: Ms. Bixby, it's
my understanding that when you came to see Detective Scanlon
the other day, you told him you hardly knew Morgan Turley.
That's true. I run a small,
non-profit shelter for cats.
I take in strays, try to find them homes.
One day, Mr. Turley just walked through the door.
Said he loved cats, was wondering if he could adopt one.
Is that a crime?
DEVALOS: And that's it?
That's the extent of your relationship?
Well, it actually happened a number of times.
I believe he ultimately ended up adopting
about a half dozen strays.
Sounds like a nice man.
He seemed so.
Ms. Bixby, didn't you find it odd
that someone you barely knew
would leave you so much money?
Of course.
It's been overwhelming.
Morgan Turley has changed my life.
I can only guess that the cats
I placed with him gave him great joy,
that he was looking for a way to say thank you,
to support the work that made those adoptions possible,
But why leave that money to you, specifically?
He didn't leave it to your shelter.
He didn't leave it to any of the bigger,
better known organizations that do similar work.
MORGAN: What do you mean "why"?
Because I trust her.
Because it was my money.
I could do whatever the hell I wanted to with it.
Oh, my goodness.
You think that I might have something
to do with his murder,
don't you? SCANLON: No. No one's saying that.
We're exploring all sorts of possibilities,
but it'd be helpful if you could tell us
where you were this past Saturday night.
Is there anyone who can vouch for your whereabouts?
No.
I was home.
But I was by myself.
Am I in trouble?
Do I need a lawyer?
I'm begging you-- look at her.
Is that the face of a killer?
Is that the face of a person who could
pull the trigger on another human being?
She rescues pussycats for God's sake!
So you never had any contact
with Mr. Turley outside of the shelter?
You didn't know him in any context
except as a man who was interested in adopting cats?
When they first called to tell me he had passed away
and left me his insurance money,
I couldn't even remember who he was.
What did I tell you? Come on, Mrs. Dubois.
You can put a stop to this.
You can do it.
Did you know you were neighbors? Oh, no.
No, no, no. Don't tell her that! Really?
I believe he lived directly across the street from you.
And who knows, maybe you can see his apartment from yours?
Wouldn't that be an amazing coincidence.
And maybe he could see
your apartment from his.
Oh.
Okay. I give.
I'll tell you anything you want to know.
Just don't tell her anything else.
Don't ask her anything else.
Isn't there any way we can check on that?
Excuse yourself.
Right now. Let's go out into the hallway,
and I'll tell you everything. Perhaps.
Can you excuse me a second?
I need to step outside.
I need to check on something. I'll be right back.
I did it. You did what?
I killed myself.
You did not.
Did, too.
Cross my heart and hope to die.
Ask anybody who knows me.
I've always talked about killing myself.
That's not funny, and that's not true.
There's nothing about your injuries
that are consistent with suicide.
Besides, everyone knows,
life insurance doesn't pay off on suicides.
If you prove it was a suicide.
Which we can't because it isn't.
Well, then...
I guess we're at a standoff.
Really? I was just thinking of taking Cadence
for a little tour of your place.
Checking out the cats, showing her
your view from your living room window.
No!
Yes! Oh, no.
Don't tell me you're dragging him into this, too?
I'm sorry to bother you.
Do you work here?
Yes, I do.
I'm looking for my fiancée, Cadence?
Cadence Bixby?
Your fiancée? Your fiancée?
Do you know where she might be?
She's right in there.
Thanks.
You never told me that Cadence and Nick were...
That's it, I'm done.
The guy doesn't care about catching his killer,
why should I?
It's just so strange.
You'd think the way he always kept an eye on her,
he'd have a clue that she was involved with his best friend.
Do I feel sorry for the guy? Absolutely.
Am I gonna lose any more sleep over him? No.
Me, either.
Okay.
I'm ready.
Pull the trigger.
MAN: You sure about this?
Don't back out on me, Nick.
Please.
I'm begging you.
VINCENT: With friends
like that, huh?
I don't understand.
Morgan wanted to die?
That was before he knew his best pal
was shacking up with the girl he loved.
Now, I think he's having second thoughts.
Did you send me that dream, Mr. DiScala?
I know you've been trying to help him.
Considering the hit the poor guy took today,
I thought you ought to know the truth.
You okay?
Vincent filled me in,
showed me what really happened in that alley.
But why, Morgan?
Why would you do that?
I loved Cadence Bixby.
From the moment I laid eyes on her, through this window,
I loved Cadence Bixby.
I watched her up here for months--
getting ready for work in the morning,
coming home from work in the evening--
and I thought to myself,
"My God, if I could just get close to this woman,
if I could just matter to this woman."
And then,
I decided to follow her.
I wanted to know more than what I saw from up here--
where she worked, where she ate.
And then I discovered the shelter.
It took me weeks to get up the courage to go in.
And once I did,
once I was actually close to her,
she was even more beautiful, more special.
And I never knew what to do, and I never knew what to say.
I just kept adopting cats.
It was the one thing that worked.
Whenever I did it, she'd be mine for a half hour.
As long as it took to fill out the paperwork, she'd be mine.
But that still doesn't explain...
Doesn't it?
I showed her to him--
right here, a little more than a year ago.
I thought if he saw her, he could understand why she was
the only thing I ever talked about.
I guess he understood more than I knew.
I can't believe he kept that from you,
knowing what you were planning to do.
But it was his plan, Mrs. Dubois.
It was his idea.
The million-dollar insurance policy, the staged mugging--
it was all his idea.
He just talked me into it.
This doesn't make sense.
How can anyone possibly talk you into letting them kill you?
I'd been threatening to do it to myself for years.
Suddenly, it all made sense.
I could put myself out of the pain I was in
and give her this remarkable gift.
I would matter to her.
I would always matter to her.
And little did you know,
all that money wouldn't just be going to Cadence.
It would eventually find its way to her new husband,
your best friend, Nick.
I'm really depressed.
I haven't felt this suicidal since...
since I was alive.
Well, maybe there's something we can do about that.
Where is she?
Ms. Bixby is waiting for you in the conference room.
I believe you know the way.
Cade...
I don't know what these people
have been filling your head with,
but I'm here to tell you it's not true.
I called a lawyer; he's on his way.
But I don't understand.
Why would you do that, Nick?
If everything they told me wasn't true,
why would you even need a lawyer?
Come on.
Let's talk about this outside.
What's wrong with right here?
We don't have anything to hide.
Do we?
Cadence was just telling us how odd she found it
that it wasn't until Morgan passed away
that you even mentioned that he was your friend.
Darling...
I explained that already.
He and I weren't getting along.
We weren't speaking, that's all.
I loved him,
but he was a depressed, moody guy.
If I'd known you two had already met through the shelter,
don't you think I would've told you?
I wish you had.
Because considering the amount of money
he was planning on leaving me, it would've been nice
to get to know him a little better.
Maybe even have him over for dinner.
Now, that would have been a fascinating dinner.
You, your best friend,
and the woman you were seeing behind his back.
Might have made it more difficult
convincing him to let you shoot him, though.
Look, Morgan was killed by a stranger,
a mugger.
I know you're under a lot of pressure.
I'm sorry you're having trouble finding the person who did this.
But if you think I'm gonna stand here
and let you accuse me of...
of hurting my friend...
Funny thing about muggings, Mr. Lewin--
the money that gets stolen
often doesn't stay with the mugger very long.
It gets spent.
Which is unfortunate, because it frequently contains evidence
that connects the mugger to the crime.
SCANLON: At the very least,
you might find the perpetrator's fingerprints.
At most, if it was a violent mugging, there could be
microscopic amounts of blood spatter from the victim.
Can't get much more violent than a bullet to the brain,
can you, Mr. Lewin?
You know,
I wish you could find the money.
You know why?
Because I know if it had that evidence on it,
that blood you're talking about,
it would absolutely prove my innocence.
Unfortunately, for both of us,
you're probably right.
It probably was spent.
Which means it could be anywhere by now.
Well, maybe not anywhere.
Turns out the $500
Mr. Turley withdrew from that ATM was spent
at a pawn shop downtown the very same night he was murdered.
The owner said he only made one sale that night-- a ring.
A modest engagement ring.
That couldn't possibly be this ring, right?
You said this belonged
to your late mother.
That's right, it did.
DEVALOS: Well, that's peculiar,
because when we showed your picture to the owner,
he identified you as the only customer he had that evening.
SCANLON: He even let a few of
our lab techs take a look at the money
that was still in the cash register.
We found the evidence we were looking for
on this 20, Mr. Lewin.
Morgan's blood, your fingerprints.
SCANLON: Mr. Lewin, you're under arrest for the murder of Morgan Turley.
You have the right to remain silent.
Anything you say can and will be used
against you in a court of law.
NICK: I don't understand.
SCANLON: You have the right to counsel...
I didn't tell anyone I went to that shop.
How could you possibly...?
DEVALOS: We received a tip
late last night that pretty much gave us everything we needed.
From who?
ALLISON: From someone who knows
what it means to be a friend.
From someone who knows what it means to be loyal.
VINCENT: You did the right thing, you know.
I know.
I just...
I hate to see her so sad.
Plus, now the insurance company's
gonna make her give back the money.
I really did a horrible thing.
I don't know.
This Cadence girl-- least as far as I can tell--
she doesn't strike me as the kind
who gets too hung up on money.
I mean, I'm sure she's gonna miss it,
but I have a feeling that what she'll always remember
is that once upon a time,
there was a man who cared so deeply about her,
he was actually willing to give up everything
for her.
I think that's a pretty good thing.
It ain't a million bucks.
But I think that's a pretty good thing.
Now, come on.
I'm getting a little sick of this view.
What say we both move
onward and upward, if you know what I mean?
You know, Vincent, I'm really glad we met.
You're a true pal.
Likewise, Morgy.
Likewise.
What's going on?
You okay?
I'm better than okay.
I'm good.
I'm great.
And I'm so happy I'm not going through this alone.
I have no idea what you're talking about.
That's okay, pal.
Don't you worry about it.