Post by TVFan on Jun 22, 2008 15:21:25 GMT -5
Recap Provided by Cellogal
October 5, 1973.
Tennis court, where “I Am Woman” by Helen Reddy plays. A crowd of spectators cheers, and then we see that the score is 5-4, with each person having won one set. Or something. It’s tennis, and I cannot for the life of me understand tennis scoring. People have tried countless times to explain it to me, and my eyes always glaze over within seconds. Anyway, the match is between a guy and a girl, and they hit the ball back and forth a few times, and finally the guy smacks one into the net. Apparently, this means he’s lost the point, because everyone starts cheering. Well, all the girls do, anyway. The guys look seriously bummed. A silver-haired man from the crowd, apparently the female player’s dad, congratulates her, saying “That’s it, Andi, that’s a winner!” and then we flash back to Andi in the stands looking down on the court as her dad looks up at her, notebook in hand. Back in the current flashback, Andi announces that it’s “match point,” which is apparently important, because her opponent tells the official that he needs a sec. Andi seems unfazed by his attempt at distraction, and as he goes over to the bench, she looks up at a bespectacled little girl in the stands and winks at her, then prepares to serve. “That’s my sister,” the girl announces triumphantly to the young man sitting next to her, and he knows. “Everyone knows,” he says, as he jots something down in his own notebook.
Back on the court, a well-dressed woman who I would assume is the coach encourages Andi to close it out, saying then she’ll be on the map with Billie Jean. The guy is apparently done with whatever he needed to do, because he gets up and heads back to the court, and Andi serves. There’s some dramatic slow-mo camera work to add more drama to what is essentially a ball flying through the air. Andi’s dad shouts some sort of tennis pointer, and she apparently hears him, because we see another flashback from our flashback wherein Andi’s dad is explaining something to her, and then back in the current flashback, she changes the grip on her racket, and as her coach yells at her to put it away, Andi hits the ball perfectly, and her opponent has no chance to hit it. She’s won, and everyone jumps up and cheers again. She’s thrilled, the guy is less so, and the guy in the tall chair that seems to be in charge of these things flips the score to read Andi Simmons 6, Fritz Adams 4. Andi and Fritz meet at the net and shake hands. She congratulates him on a nice match, and his reply is, “You’ve come a long way, baby.” She laughs, then heads off to join her teammates, and Fritz has a parting shot for her. “Enjoy your moment, Superstar.” She beams at him, and he heads off, dejected, while she’s mobbed by her teammates and coach.
Dorm room. Andi’s lifeless body lies on the floor on top of a newspaper as her phone rings, unanswered. A detective in the evidence room slides her box down the conveyor belt.
Present Day
Squad Room. A red-haired woman sits explaining to Kat and Lilly that her sister was a great tennis player, born with a racket, as they say. Sure enough, this is the little girl with glasses from the flashback. Lilly asks if Andi played for Penn U., and the woman says proudly that she was number one varsity her first year. “Sounds like a star,” Kat comments, and the woman concurs, saying her dad said that, given another year or two, Andi would have gone to Wimbledon. “But then she was murdered,” Lilly says, and the redhead asks if they remember Billie Jean King and and Bobby Riggs. Lilly smiles fondly. “Battle of the Sexes,” she says. “We won.” This from a woman who thought the Sixers played hockey five episodes ago. She’s come a long way, baby. Andi’s sister explains that, a few weeks later, Penn had it’s own version of that match for a fund-raiser. Kat surmises that Andi played for the ladies, and Andi’s sister says Andi won, and the next day, she was found dead, strangled in her room. Lilly asks if the cops looked at the guy Andi beat, and the sister says they looked for quite a while, and Kat asks if nothing stuck. Andi ‘s sister shakes her head and explains that then the case just stalled, and it’s been a dark cloud hanging over them for 33 years, and Lilly nods sympathetically. Kat asks the sister, whose name, we finally learn, is Emily, what brings her in now, and Emily explains that her dad’s moving to Florida and, in cleaning out his house, she found a bunch of Andi’s old tennis stuff, “including this,” she says, handing them something that looks like a towel wrapped in a plastic bag. Kat asks if that’s a towel, and Emily says it was the one Andi used the night of the match; it was still in her bag, and Emily got sick after she handled it. Well, I’d think 33-year-old sweat on a towel would do that to most people, but Lilly adds that Poison Control found traces of sodium nitrate, which is lethal in high doses. Miller concludes that someone really wanted to hurt Andi, and Emily says politely that she doesn’t want to be a bother, but she thought maybe it was related to Andi’s murder. Lilly thinks perhaps the poisoned towel was the doer’s first attempt, and suggests that if they find the person who dosed the towel, maybe they find the person who brought down a rising star.
Credits.
Street in front of Penn’s View Inn, where Vera heads out of the inn and down the sidewalk. Jeffries, in front of the car, asks Vera what he did this time. “Nothin’!” Vera exclaims. “I missed dinner. Big deal, right?” Oh, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that it is, if Vera’s sleeping in a hotel. Jeffries asks if it was because of work, or because Vera was at the bar. Vera says he ran into a guy he knew, they take turns buying each other drinks, and the next thing he knows, it’s 2:30. Oh, yeah. This is a big deal. Jeffries’ awesome facial expression says as much. Jeffries asks if Julie waited up, and Vera says she did, in that creaky rocking chair he hates. Jeffries tells Vera sternly that he’s gotta do something about this, and Vera proclaims it a circle game and says it’ll work out, then asks where they’re going. “Victim’s family,” Jeffries says, explaining that a co-ed was strangled after a Battle of the Sexes tennis match. Vera scoffs slightly, then announces that he needs an egg sandwich for this one. Hee.
Evidence Warehouse. Lil recaps what we already know: Andi Simmons, 18, found strangled in her dorm room the day after her big win. Scotty says there was no sign of forced entry, leading Stillman to conclude that she knew her attacker, then asks Lilly if there were any leads. She mentions Fritz Adams, the guy she beat, who was the men’s #1 player and the cops’ #1 suspect. Wow, ol’ Fritz is just #1 all the way around! Scotty points out that a senior guy losing to a freshman girl would be hard to live down. “Especially when it’s splashed all over the front page,” Stillman remarks, as he looks at a Xerox of the day’s newspaper. Lilly explains that Fritz didn’t have an alibi, but they couldn’t build a case against him, the family lawyered up, and the job fizzled. Scotty adds that the other lead was some hang-up phone calls Andi had been getting, someone calling and whispering, “Superstar.” Stillman asks if this could have been Fritz, but Lil says he never copped to it. Stillman asks if there’s any chance the poisoned towel was a prank, and Lilly says the dose was practically lethal. Scotty wonders aloud where someone might get this sodium nitrate, and Stillman says the chemistry building at Penn U. is right next to the tennis courts. My, how convenient! Lil concludes that the towel narrows it down to someone close to Andi, who had access to her gear the night of the match, and Scotty says this thins out the suspect pool. Stillman tells them that Vera and Jeffries are with the family getting names. Lilly says they already know one: Fritz, and as she leaves, Stillman comments that they might as well start with the top guy.
Simmons home, where Emily and her dad are packing up. Jeffries observes that Dad is pulling up stakes, and Dad agrees. Emily remarks that he’s had enough Philly winters, and Dad explains that he has a sister in Palm Beach, and it’ll be nice to live near family. Um, what is Emily, exactly, chopped liver? The look on Em’s face suggests that this isn’t the first time she’s endured her father’s Sherman Tank style of diplomacy. Vera says that the towel gives them new direction on Andi’s murder, and Dad snarks that if the towel was poisoned, he doesn’t see how they missed it. Well, maybe because Nick Vera was probably, what, like, seven years old back then? Jeffries points out, a bit peevishly, that the cause of death was strangulation, and a standard autopsy doesn’t test for poison. Emily says that the point is, someone had it out for Andi, and Vera asks her if she has any ideas why. “Envy,” Dad answers quickly. Vera asks if it was because of her talent, and Dad says that what Andi had was rare, and she was no dime-a-dozen kid. My hackles are instantly up. No parent should ever think of their kid as a dime-a-dozen kid, even if they don’t have any spectacular talents. Okay, okay, I’m off my soapbox now. Jeffries politely waits for me to finish my rant, then asks if Dad knows who might have tampered with Andi’s gear that night. Of course Dad does: the guy they’ve been looking at for 33 years. “Fritz Adams,” Vera concludes, and Dad says that maybe this towel will finally nail the bastard, then says he knows for a fact that Fritz loaned Andi another one. Jeffries asks when that was, and Dad says it was the week before the big match; he saw it with his own eyes.
Penn U. Tennis courts. Dad sits there with his notebook watching Andi and Fritz practice. Dad yells at Andi to “run around it,” and she changes her grip, then whiffs through the ball. She explains, somewhat apologetically, that she would have had it, but she broke a string. She jogs over to her gear, and Fritz follows, slapping a towel on her shoulder and observing that she sweats a lot for a girl. “Borg sweats a lot,” Andi retorts, and Fritz asks her if that’s what the headband’s about. No, she’s just trying to look like LeBron James. Wait. Sorry. Wrong sport. And wrong decade. Dad tells Andi to get back out there, and Fritz snarkily observes that most people, when they go away to college, bring their stereo, not their dad. “Your serve,” Andi snaps, as she heads back out onto the court. Fritz follows, he serves, they play for a while, and Andi wins the point. Fritz erupts, throwing his racket a la John McEnroe, then says to screw this match. Andi tells him to calm down, but he doesn’t, saying it’s lose-lose. Andi asks what his problem is, and Fritz explains that he’s screwed, that’s his problem, and he never should have agreed to this thing. He says that winning doesn’t help him, since he’s supposed to win because Andi’s a girl. “Thanks a lot,” she says sarcastically. He continues, saying that if he loses, he’s over, and Andi shrugs. “So, win,” she instructs simply, getting her a smile from Dear Old Dad.
Dad says that Fritz made a big show of laughing it off when Andi won the match, but he’d seen Fritz’s true colors. Vera asks if Fritz’s fears came true, and Dad says he tanked the season and never even tried the pros. Jeffries asks Dad if he saw Fritz with Andi after the match, and Dad says the last time they saw her was out on Court 1 after her win, surrounded by people toasting her. “Right, Em?” he asks, and Emily says it’s how she always remembers Andi. Dad says that nothing’s been right since, and he lost the brightest light in his life. Emily blinks as she absorbs this latest verbal slap, and Jeffries looks on in disbelief.
Tennis club. Kat and Lilly approach Fritz, who grins flirtatiously at them and asks if they’re here for the ladies’ clinic. “Do we look like we’re here for the ladies’ clinic?” Kat snarks at him. Hee. “What, then?” he asks. Lil flashes her badge and says it’s about Andi Simmons. Fritz motions them to a more private part of the club, and says he’s been down this road way too many times. Lilly tells him that the towel turned up, and he asks if that’s supposed to mean something to him. “You tell us,” Lilly retorts. Fritz gives up, and Kat informs him that he towel Andi used at the match was laced with sodium nitrate. “Sodium what?” Fritz asks, then reminds them that he’s a jock; he doesn’t know chemicals. Lil fires back that maybe the thought of getting whipped by a girl made him crack a book. Fritz says he lost a match, but that’s no reason to kill someone. “Unless your temper got the best of you,” Miller points out. Lilly tells Fritz that they heard he had a real meltdown with Andi at a practice match, and Fritz rolls his eyes and asks if she’s ever seen John McEnroe chuck a racket, then says that’s tennis. Lilly continues, saying that after Andi beat Fritz, he lost any chance of going pro. Fritz is incredulous, saying he had a one-time problem with Andi, which was nothing compared to the girls she was with day-to-day. “Her teammates?” Kat asks, and Fritz nods. “Talk about a buncha hens with ruffled feathers,” he says. Miller asks who was the most ruffled, and Fritz says it was Grace Anderson: the team captain, and Fritz’s girlfriend at the time.
Tennis courts. Fritz and Grace peruse the latest newspaper article about Andi. Fritz asks if Andi’s got something against wearing skirts, and Grace comments that she’s more Billie Jean than Chrissy. Fritz, in exasperation, says that Andi’s been in the paper, like, three times this week. “Four,” Grace corrects, as Andi runs up. Grace sarcastically thanks Andi for joining them, and she asks if she’s late, then apologizes. Grace reminds Andi that they have a challenge match, and Andi knows. Grace says it was supposed to start ten minutes ago, and Andi says she was doing an interview. Grace and Fritz exchange a Look, and then Grace says that they all know Andi’s a big superstar, but tennis should come first. Andi says Grace is right, but this guy just kept talking. Grace snaps at her to tell him that she has practice, and being late is frowned upon. Andi promises she will, then suggests that Grace take a game for every minute Andi was late. “Oh, right,” Grace giggles, but Andi insists, saying she deserves it. “It’s 6-0, 4-0, yours, two games away from winning,” she says, then adds that Grace can serve. Grace can’t resist this, and takes the ball from Fritz’s hand as she heads out onto the court.
“Andi still won?” Lilly asks, and Fritz gives the final score: 0-6, 6-4, 6-0. “Grace didn’t take a game?” Kat asks incredulously. Fritz says Grace was a good captain and didn’t vent in public, but behind closed doors, Grace had a lot of bad nights: Andi was making her crazy. Miller asks Fritz if he thinks Grace could have poisoned the towel, and Fritz says Grace was a grind, on the court and off. Lil points out that this doesn’t sound like an answer to her, and Fritz finally gives them something that does: Grace was a chem major: she spent half her time in the lab, and the other half on the court. The detectives conclude that this gives Grace means, motive, and opportunity. Ooh, I think Fritz just lost his #1 ranking.
Kitchen. Stillman pours a cup of coffee as he concludes that Andi was a phenom, and Grace was a grinder. “And they hated each other,” Jeffries finishes. “Like Mozart…” Scotty adds, “…and that other guy.” I have to squee for just a minute, because the fact that Scotty knows who Mozart is warms my heart a little. Anyway, Jeffries says he saw this sort of thing when he played college ball, and no one hates God-given talent like a second-stringer. They’re interrupted by the entrance of a soft-spoken blonde. “You’re Will, right?” she asks Jeffries. “Yes,” he replies, looking at her blankly, and she reminds him that she’s Julie, Nick Vera’s wife. Scotty sits up and takes notice at this, and Jeffries smiles sort of sheepishly, stands up, and introduces Julie to Stillman and Scotty. She smiles at them and tells them that Nicky says nice things. Jeffries tells Julie that Vera’s out on the street, and invites her to sit down while he calls Vera, and Scotty offers her a cup of “god-awful coffee.” Julie refuses politely, then hands Stillman a suitcase and asks him to give it to Vera. Oh, snap. Stillman agrees, and Jeffries and Scotty exchange an Alarmed Glance as Julie thanks Stillman. She then tells Jeffries it was nice seeing him again, then says goodbye and departs. “Way to go,” Scotty congratulates Jeffries sarcastically. “Crap,” Jeffries responds, saying that she met her once, four years ago, and Scotty continues with the sarcasm, saying that’ll help Vera’s cause and get him out of the woodshed. Stillman comments that he didn’t know things were so bad, and Jeffries says Vera didn’t seem worried yesterday… “but this ain’t a good sign.” No, I’d say not.
Penn U. Medical Center. Lilly informs Grace, who’s now a doctor, that they met her old boyfriend, Fritz Adams. Grace asks if Fritz is bald and fat, and Vera surmises that they’re not in touch. Grace says things didn’t end well with them. Lil tells Grace that Fritz says she had a little problem with Andi Simmons, and Grace wouldn’t call it little. Vera asks if there was a lot of fur flying between the two of them, and Grace replies that she was #1 for three years until Andi came in and took it away, and for a high-strung, type-A bulimic like Grace, that was a big problem. Vera asks if she worked all that out, and she says she did, then thanks him with a smile. Lilly asks Grace who she was rooting for in the Battle of the Sexes, and Grace says she was Switzerland Neutral. Somehow I find that hard to believe. Lilly does, too, saying that if she’s choosing between her boyfriend and the girl she despises, she’s going with the guy. “Maybe that’s where the towel comes in,” Vera pipes up. Lilly explains that Andi’s towel was laced with sodium nitrate. “And I’m Marie Curie,” Grace replies. Lilly admits that it crossed their minds. Grace says she had a lot of things to work through back then, referring to her aforementioned emotional issues, but says she was in a study group with three other people the night Andi was killed. Lilly says they’ll need those names. Grace adds that more importantly, Andi’s win actually meant something to her, what with women’s lib and all. “Oh, boy,” Vera gripes, and Lilly asks if Andi was a big activist. Grace says she wasn’t, and that was a problem.
Women’s restroom. Accompanied by Carole King’s “Believe In Humanity,” Grace finishes gagging into the toilet, then flushes and comes out to the sinks, where Andi tells Grace she looks great, and she doesn’t need to do that. Grace takes a sip of water and orders her to “MYOB.” In a lovely little moment that points out the contrast between the two women, Andi puts on her headband as Grace touches up her lipstick, and then the coach walks in, carrying a newspaper and b*tchily reading a quote from Andi, saying that she doesn’t really have an opinion about Title IX, she just wants to play tennis, then orders Andi to tell her she was misquoted. “No,” Andi says cheerfully. Grace explains that Title IX protects women athletes, and Andi shrugs and says she just thinks of herself as an athlete. The coach tells Andi to leave her little backyard, there’s a revolution going on. Andi glances blankly from Grace to the coach, and Grace asks Andi if she ever wonders why they have to use the chem building bathroom to change for practice. Andi shrugs and says she never thought about it. Grace says that the guys have a locker room, and according to Fritz, it’s beautiful. We flash to Fritz heading into the aforementioned beautiful locker room, as the coach explains that Title IX gets them a locker room, a van, and a decent budget, same as the guys. Andi asserts that she cares about tennis, not politics. The coach yells at Andi, calling her Bambi and telling her to wake up, that she’s their golden girl, and says she’s not going to let her blow it.
Vera remarks that it sounds like the coach was a dragon lady, and Grace agrees, saying she was breathing fire all over Andi. Lilly asks if there were any other sore points between them, and Grace answers that the biggest one was that Andi’s dad wanted the coach, Susan, fired, not that it happened. “Because Andi died first,” Lilly concludes, and Grace guesses that’s true. Lil studies Grace for a moment, and Vera asks if she thinks Susan could have harmed Andi. Grace says Susan was radical, and believed in making change by any means necessary. Vera glances warily at Lilly. “I ain’t doin’ that interview,” he declares, and Lilly smiles.
Penn U. Kat asks Susan if she remembers the Battle of the Sexes match in ’73, and Susan does, proudly declaring that Andi Simmons brought Fritz Adams to his knees, and remarks that it was a great day and she enjoyed it. “Good for the cause,” Miller remarks, and Susan agrees, saying it knocked the bastards down a peg. Kat asks if it’d be fair to say that she takes a pretty extreme view on politics, and Susan says she has to: no one gives you an inch without it. “And now you’ve climbed all the way up to Athletic Director,” Miller observes. Susan stops and tells Miller to say what she means, so she does, beginning with a theory that Andi was getting in the way of Susan’s agenda. Susan argues that Andi was good for her agenda, she just needed enlightenment. Miller adds that they also heard that Andi’s dad wanted Susan fired. Susan says this was because he didn’t want to stop coaching her, but Kat argues that after Andi died, Susan kept her job. “I hear you,” she comments. “So?” Kat retorts. Susan says that Bill was a tennis dad, an overreaching pain in the ass, and they tussled over Andi. Miller concludes that they both wanted a piece of her, and Susan agrees, saying it was because Andi was so special, but says they came together when they ran into a real enemy.
Tennis courts. Bill tosses balls to Andi, instructing her to run around, and praising her when she does. He then tosses her one more and tells her to put it away, which she does, then heads off the court for some water. Susan points out that Andi just had a three-hour practice, and he orders her not to start. Susan argues that Andi’s her player, and Bill asks who put a racket in Andi’s hand when she was four years old: Susan, or him? She’s saved from having to answer by the arrival of a sleazy-looking guy in a suit, who comments that this must be the superstar everyone’s talking about, then introduces himself to Bill as Arnold Brown, Athletic Director. They shake hands, and Bill introduces himself and Andi. Turning to Andi, Arnold says he’s heard she’s the next Billie Jean King, and Andi smiles modestly and says she’d like to be. Arnold continues, asking about the Battle of the Sexes match, and Andi explains that she and Fritz Adams are playing: #1 against #1. Arnold tells Susan it sounds like something she dreamed up, and Susan says she’s just trying to raise money, since they’ve got such a crap budget. Arnold laughs and guesses that the “trolls” at the women’s center put Andi up to this, but she disagrees, saying she wants to play and win. Bill smiles proudly as Arnold says it certainly would be interesting, but problematic, too. Andi asks why, and Arnold explains that these are complicated times, with a lot of demands being made, but Andi argues that she’s just going out there to play, and it’s not complicated for her. Arnold says that this Title IX business is a slippery slope: they don’t want to embarrass the University, and they have an obligation to men’s athletics. Bill takes issue at the “embarrassment” part of Arnold’s argument, saying that Andi’s dynamite and she’ll make him proud. Arnold says that it’s harmless enough to have an exhibition game, but an upset could stir the pot and be bad for everyone. Susan looks exasperated as Andi concludes that Arnold wants her to throw the match. He claps Andi on the shoulder and says, with due respect, that he doubts Fritz will need the help. Susan takes issue with this, saying he hasn’t seen what this girl can do, but Arnold starts to walk away. Andi calls after him that she always plays to win, and Arnold stops and says that maybe he wasn’t clear: an upset is not a possibility. He then says he’ll be watching and waves cheerfully at them as he departs.
Susan says that, to Arnold, that was the last word, and he was so sure Andi would just obey him. “And lose on purpose,” Miller concludes. Susan says that, in his mind, that’s what they’d agreed to. “But then Andi won,” Kat realizes, and Susan finishes her thought. “And was dead the next day.”
October 5, 1973.
Tennis court, where “I Am Woman” by Helen Reddy plays. A crowd of spectators cheers, and then we see that the score is 5-4, with each person having won one set. Or something. It’s tennis, and I cannot for the life of me understand tennis scoring. People have tried countless times to explain it to me, and my eyes always glaze over within seconds. Anyway, the match is between a guy and a girl, and they hit the ball back and forth a few times, and finally the guy smacks one into the net. Apparently, this means he’s lost the point, because everyone starts cheering. Well, all the girls do, anyway. The guys look seriously bummed. A silver-haired man from the crowd, apparently the female player’s dad, congratulates her, saying “That’s it, Andi, that’s a winner!” and then we flash back to Andi in the stands looking down on the court as her dad looks up at her, notebook in hand. Back in the current flashback, Andi announces that it’s “match point,” which is apparently important, because her opponent tells the official that he needs a sec. Andi seems unfazed by his attempt at distraction, and as he goes over to the bench, she looks up at a bespectacled little girl in the stands and winks at her, then prepares to serve. “That’s my sister,” the girl announces triumphantly to the young man sitting next to her, and he knows. “Everyone knows,” he says, as he jots something down in his own notebook.
Back on the court, a well-dressed woman who I would assume is the coach encourages Andi to close it out, saying then she’ll be on the map with Billie Jean. The guy is apparently done with whatever he needed to do, because he gets up and heads back to the court, and Andi serves. There’s some dramatic slow-mo camera work to add more drama to what is essentially a ball flying through the air. Andi’s dad shouts some sort of tennis pointer, and she apparently hears him, because we see another flashback from our flashback wherein Andi’s dad is explaining something to her, and then back in the current flashback, she changes the grip on her racket, and as her coach yells at her to put it away, Andi hits the ball perfectly, and her opponent has no chance to hit it. She’s won, and everyone jumps up and cheers again. She’s thrilled, the guy is less so, and the guy in the tall chair that seems to be in charge of these things flips the score to read Andi Simmons 6, Fritz Adams 4. Andi and Fritz meet at the net and shake hands. She congratulates him on a nice match, and his reply is, “You’ve come a long way, baby.” She laughs, then heads off to join her teammates, and Fritz has a parting shot for her. “Enjoy your moment, Superstar.” She beams at him, and he heads off, dejected, while she’s mobbed by her teammates and coach.
Dorm room. Andi’s lifeless body lies on the floor on top of a newspaper as her phone rings, unanswered. A detective in the evidence room slides her box down the conveyor belt.
Present Day
Squad Room. A red-haired woman sits explaining to Kat and Lilly that her sister was a great tennis player, born with a racket, as they say. Sure enough, this is the little girl with glasses from the flashback. Lilly asks if Andi played for Penn U., and the woman says proudly that she was number one varsity her first year. “Sounds like a star,” Kat comments, and the woman concurs, saying her dad said that, given another year or two, Andi would have gone to Wimbledon. “But then she was murdered,” Lilly says, and the redhead asks if they remember Billie Jean King and and Bobby Riggs. Lilly smiles fondly. “Battle of the Sexes,” she says. “We won.” This from a woman who thought the Sixers played hockey five episodes ago. She’s come a long way, baby. Andi’s sister explains that, a few weeks later, Penn had it’s own version of that match for a fund-raiser. Kat surmises that Andi played for the ladies, and Andi’s sister says Andi won, and the next day, she was found dead, strangled in her room. Lilly asks if the cops looked at the guy Andi beat, and the sister says they looked for quite a while, and Kat asks if nothing stuck. Andi ‘s sister shakes her head and explains that then the case just stalled, and it’s been a dark cloud hanging over them for 33 years, and Lilly nods sympathetically. Kat asks the sister, whose name, we finally learn, is Emily, what brings her in now, and Emily explains that her dad’s moving to Florida and, in cleaning out his house, she found a bunch of Andi’s old tennis stuff, “including this,” she says, handing them something that looks like a towel wrapped in a plastic bag. Kat asks if that’s a towel, and Emily says it was the one Andi used the night of the match; it was still in her bag, and Emily got sick after she handled it. Well, I’d think 33-year-old sweat on a towel would do that to most people, but Lilly adds that Poison Control found traces of sodium nitrate, which is lethal in high doses. Miller concludes that someone really wanted to hurt Andi, and Emily says politely that she doesn’t want to be a bother, but she thought maybe it was related to Andi’s murder. Lilly thinks perhaps the poisoned towel was the doer’s first attempt, and suggests that if they find the person who dosed the towel, maybe they find the person who brought down a rising star.
Credits.
Street in front of Penn’s View Inn, where Vera heads out of the inn and down the sidewalk. Jeffries, in front of the car, asks Vera what he did this time. “Nothin’!” Vera exclaims. “I missed dinner. Big deal, right?” Oh, I’m gonna go ahead and guess that it is, if Vera’s sleeping in a hotel. Jeffries asks if it was because of work, or because Vera was at the bar. Vera says he ran into a guy he knew, they take turns buying each other drinks, and the next thing he knows, it’s 2:30. Oh, yeah. This is a big deal. Jeffries’ awesome facial expression says as much. Jeffries asks if Julie waited up, and Vera says she did, in that creaky rocking chair he hates. Jeffries tells Vera sternly that he’s gotta do something about this, and Vera proclaims it a circle game and says it’ll work out, then asks where they’re going. “Victim’s family,” Jeffries says, explaining that a co-ed was strangled after a Battle of the Sexes tennis match. Vera scoffs slightly, then announces that he needs an egg sandwich for this one. Hee.
Evidence Warehouse. Lil recaps what we already know: Andi Simmons, 18, found strangled in her dorm room the day after her big win. Scotty says there was no sign of forced entry, leading Stillman to conclude that she knew her attacker, then asks Lilly if there were any leads. She mentions Fritz Adams, the guy she beat, who was the men’s #1 player and the cops’ #1 suspect. Wow, ol’ Fritz is just #1 all the way around! Scotty points out that a senior guy losing to a freshman girl would be hard to live down. “Especially when it’s splashed all over the front page,” Stillman remarks, as he looks at a Xerox of the day’s newspaper. Lilly explains that Fritz didn’t have an alibi, but they couldn’t build a case against him, the family lawyered up, and the job fizzled. Scotty adds that the other lead was some hang-up phone calls Andi had been getting, someone calling and whispering, “Superstar.” Stillman asks if this could have been Fritz, but Lil says he never copped to it. Stillman asks if there’s any chance the poisoned towel was a prank, and Lilly says the dose was practically lethal. Scotty wonders aloud where someone might get this sodium nitrate, and Stillman says the chemistry building at Penn U. is right next to the tennis courts. My, how convenient! Lil concludes that the towel narrows it down to someone close to Andi, who had access to her gear the night of the match, and Scotty says this thins out the suspect pool. Stillman tells them that Vera and Jeffries are with the family getting names. Lilly says they already know one: Fritz, and as she leaves, Stillman comments that they might as well start with the top guy.
Simmons home, where Emily and her dad are packing up. Jeffries observes that Dad is pulling up stakes, and Dad agrees. Emily remarks that he’s had enough Philly winters, and Dad explains that he has a sister in Palm Beach, and it’ll be nice to live near family. Um, what is Emily, exactly, chopped liver? The look on Em’s face suggests that this isn’t the first time she’s endured her father’s Sherman Tank style of diplomacy. Vera says that the towel gives them new direction on Andi’s murder, and Dad snarks that if the towel was poisoned, he doesn’t see how they missed it. Well, maybe because Nick Vera was probably, what, like, seven years old back then? Jeffries points out, a bit peevishly, that the cause of death was strangulation, and a standard autopsy doesn’t test for poison. Emily says that the point is, someone had it out for Andi, and Vera asks her if she has any ideas why. “Envy,” Dad answers quickly. Vera asks if it was because of her talent, and Dad says that what Andi had was rare, and she was no dime-a-dozen kid. My hackles are instantly up. No parent should ever think of their kid as a dime-a-dozen kid, even if they don’t have any spectacular talents. Okay, okay, I’m off my soapbox now. Jeffries politely waits for me to finish my rant, then asks if Dad knows who might have tampered with Andi’s gear that night. Of course Dad does: the guy they’ve been looking at for 33 years. “Fritz Adams,” Vera concludes, and Dad says that maybe this towel will finally nail the bastard, then says he knows for a fact that Fritz loaned Andi another one. Jeffries asks when that was, and Dad says it was the week before the big match; he saw it with his own eyes.
Penn U. Tennis courts. Dad sits there with his notebook watching Andi and Fritz practice. Dad yells at Andi to “run around it,” and she changes her grip, then whiffs through the ball. She explains, somewhat apologetically, that she would have had it, but she broke a string. She jogs over to her gear, and Fritz follows, slapping a towel on her shoulder and observing that she sweats a lot for a girl. “Borg sweats a lot,” Andi retorts, and Fritz asks her if that’s what the headband’s about. No, she’s just trying to look like LeBron James. Wait. Sorry. Wrong sport. And wrong decade. Dad tells Andi to get back out there, and Fritz snarkily observes that most people, when they go away to college, bring their stereo, not their dad. “Your serve,” Andi snaps, as she heads back out onto the court. Fritz follows, he serves, they play for a while, and Andi wins the point. Fritz erupts, throwing his racket a la John McEnroe, then says to screw this match. Andi tells him to calm down, but he doesn’t, saying it’s lose-lose. Andi asks what his problem is, and Fritz explains that he’s screwed, that’s his problem, and he never should have agreed to this thing. He says that winning doesn’t help him, since he’s supposed to win because Andi’s a girl. “Thanks a lot,” she says sarcastically. He continues, saying that if he loses, he’s over, and Andi shrugs. “So, win,” she instructs simply, getting her a smile from Dear Old Dad.
Dad says that Fritz made a big show of laughing it off when Andi won the match, but he’d seen Fritz’s true colors. Vera asks if Fritz’s fears came true, and Dad says he tanked the season and never even tried the pros. Jeffries asks Dad if he saw Fritz with Andi after the match, and Dad says the last time they saw her was out on Court 1 after her win, surrounded by people toasting her. “Right, Em?” he asks, and Emily says it’s how she always remembers Andi. Dad says that nothing’s been right since, and he lost the brightest light in his life. Emily blinks as she absorbs this latest verbal slap, and Jeffries looks on in disbelief.
Tennis club. Kat and Lilly approach Fritz, who grins flirtatiously at them and asks if they’re here for the ladies’ clinic. “Do we look like we’re here for the ladies’ clinic?” Kat snarks at him. Hee. “What, then?” he asks. Lil flashes her badge and says it’s about Andi Simmons. Fritz motions them to a more private part of the club, and says he’s been down this road way too many times. Lilly tells him that the towel turned up, and he asks if that’s supposed to mean something to him. “You tell us,” Lilly retorts. Fritz gives up, and Kat informs him that he towel Andi used at the match was laced with sodium nitrate. “Sodium what?” Fritz asks, then reminds them that he’s a jock; he doesn’t know chemicals. Lil fires back that maybe the thought of getting whipped by a girl made him crack a book. Fritz says he lost a match, but that’s no reason to kill someone. “Unless your temper got the best of you,” Miller points out. Lilly tells Fritz that they heard he had a real meltdown with Andi at a practice match, and Fritz rolls his eyes and asks if she’s ever seen John McEnroe chuck a racket, then says that’s tennis. Lilly continues, saying that after Andi beat Fritz, he lost any chance of going pro. Fritz is incredulous, saying he had a one-time problem with Andi, which was nothing compared to the girls she was with day-to-day. “Her teammates?” Kat asks, and Fritz nods. “Talk about a buncha hens with ruffled feathers,” he says. Miller asks who was the most ruffled, and Fritz says it was Grace Anderson: the team captain, and Fritz’s girlfriend at the time.
Tennis courts. Fritz and Grace peruse the latest newspaper article about Andi. Fritz asks if Andi’s got something against wearing skirts, and Grace comments that she’s more Billie Jean than Chrissy. Fritz, in exasperation, says that Andi’s been in the paper, like, three times this week. “Four,” Grace corrects, as Andi runs up. Grace sarcastically thanks Andi for joining them, and she asks if she’s late, then apologizes. Grace reminds Andi that they have a challenge match, and Andi knows. Grace says it was supposed to start ten minutes ago, and Andi says she was doing an interview. Grace and Fritz exchange a Look, and then Grace says that they all know Andi’s a big superstar, but tennis should come first. Andi says Grace is right, but this guy just kept talking. Grace snaps at her to tell him that she has practice, and being late is frowned upon. Andi promises she will, then suggests that Grace take a game for every minute Andi was late. “Oh, right,” Grace giggles, but Andi insists, saying she deserves it. “It’s 6-0, 4-0, yours, two games away from winning,” she says, then adds that Grace can serve. Grace can’t resist this, and takes the ball from Fritz’s hand as she heads out onto the court.
“Andi still won?” Lilly asks, and Fritz gives the final score: 0-6, 6-4, 6-0. “Grace didn’t take a game?” Kat asks incredulously. Fritz says Grace was a good captain and didn’t vent in public, but behind closed doors, Grace had a lot of bad nights: Andi was making her crazy. Miller asks Fritz if he thinks Grace could have poisoned the towel, and Fritz says Grace was a grind, on the court and off. Lil points out that this doesn’t sound like an answer to her, and Fritz finally gives them something that does: Grace was a chem major: she spent half her time in the lab, and the other half on the court. The detectives conclude that this gives Grace means, motive, and opportunity. Ooh, I think Fritz just lost his #1 ranking.
Kitchen. Stillman pours a cup of coffee as he concludes that Andi was a phenom, and Grace was a grinder. “And they hated each other,” Jeffries finishes. “Like Mozart…” Scotty adds, “…and that other guy.” I have to squee for just a minute, because the fact that Scotty knows who Mozart is warms my heart a little. Anyway, Jeffries says he saw this sort of thing when he played college ball, and no one hates God-given talent like a second-stringer. They’re interrupted by the entrance of a soft-spoken blonde. “You’re Will, right?” she asks Jeffries. “Yes,” he replies, looking at her blankly, and she reminds him that she’s Julie, Nick Vera’s wife. Scotty sits up and takes notice at this, and Jeffries smiles sort of sheepishly, stands up, and introduces Julie to Stillman and Scotty. She smiles at them and tells them that Nicky says nice things. Jeffries tells Julie that Vera’s out on the street, and invites her to sit down while he calls Vera, and Scotty offers her a cup of “god-awful coffee.” Julie refuses politely, then hands Stillman a suitcase and asks him to give it to Vera. Oh, snap. Stillman agrees, and Jeffries and Scotty exchange an Alarmed Glance as Julie thanks Stillman. She then tells Jeffries it was nice seeing him again, then says goodbye and departs. “Way to go,” Scotty congratulates Jeffries sarcastically. “Crap,” Jeffries responds, saying that she met her once, four years ago, and Scotty continues with the sarcasm, saying that’ll help Vera’s cause and get him out of the woodshed. Stillman comments that he didn’t know things were so bad, and Jeffries says Vera didn’t seem worried yesterday… “but this ain’t a good sign.” No, I’d say not.
Penn U. Medical Center. Lilly informs Grace, who’s now a doctor, that they met her old boyfriend, Fritz Adams. Grace asks if Fritz is bald and fat, and Vera surmises that they’re not in touch. Grace says things didn’t end well with them. Lil tells Grace that Fritz says she had a little problem with Andi Simmons, and Grace wouldn’t call it little. Vera asks if there was a lot of fur flying between the two of them, and Grace replies that she was #1 for three years until Andi came in and took it away, and for a high-strung, type-A bulimic like Grace, that was a big problem. Vera asks if she worked all that out, and she says she did, then thanks him with a smile. Lilly asks Grace who she was rooting for in the Battle of the Sexes, and Grace says she was Switzerland Neutral. Somehow I find that hard to believe. Lilly does, too, saying that if she’s choosing between her boyfriend and the girl she despises, she’s going with the guy. “Maybe that’s where the towel comes in,” Vera pipes up. Lilly explains that Andi’s towel was laced with sodium nitrate. “And I’m Marie Curie,” Grace replies. Lilly admits that it crossed their minds. Grace says she had a lot of things to work through back then, referring to her aforementioned emotional issues, but says she was in a study group with three other people the night Andi was killed. Lilly says they’ll need those names. Grace adds that more importantly, Andi’s win actually meant something to her, what with women’s lib and all. “Oh, boy,” Vera gripes, and Lilly asks if Andi was a big activist. Grace says she wasn’t, and that was a problem.
Women’s restroom. Accompanied by Carole King’s “Believe In Humanity,” Grace finishes gagging into the toilet, then flushes and comes out to the sinks, where Andi tells Grace she looks great, and she doesn’t need to do that. Grace takes a sip of water and orders her to “MYOB.” In a lovely little moment that points out the contrast between the two women, Andi puts on her headband as Grace touches up her lipstick, and then the coach walks in, carrying a newspaper and b*tchily reading a quote from Andi, saying that she doesn’t really have an opinion about Title IX, she just wants to play tennis, then orders Andi to tell her she was misquoted. “No,” Andi says cheerfully. Grace explains that Title IX protects women athletes, and Andi shrugs and says she just thinks of herself as an athlete. The coach tells Andi to leave her little backyard, there’s a revolution going on. Andi glances blankly from Grace to the coach, and Grace asks Andi if she ever wonders why they have to use the chem building bathroom to change for practice. Andi shrugs and says she never thought about it. Grace says that the guys have a locker room, and according to Fritz, it’s beautiful. We flash to Fritz heading into the aforementioned beautiful locker room, as the coach explains that Title IX gets them a locker room, a van, and a decent budget, same as the guys. Andi asserts that she cares about tennis, not politics. The coach yells at Andi, calling her Bambi and telling her to wake up, that she’s their golden girl, and says she’s not going to let her blow it.
Vera remarks that it sounds like the coach was a dragon lady, and Grace agrees, saying she was breathing fire all over Andi. Lilly asks if there were any other sore points between them, and Grace answers that the biggest one was that Andi’s dad wanted the coach, Susan, fired, not that it happened. “Because Andi died first,” Lilly concludes, and Grace guesses that’s true. Lil studies Grace for a moment, and Vera asks if she thinks Susan could have harmed Andi. Grace says Susan was radical, and believed in making change by any means necessary. Vera glances warily at Lilly. “I ain’t doin’ that interview,” he declares, and Lilly smiles.
Penn U. Kat asks Susan if she remembers the Battle of the Sexes match in ’73, and Susan does, proudly declaring that Andi Simmons brought Fritz Adams to his knees, and remarks that it was a great day and she enjoyed it. “Good for the cause,” Miller remarks, and Susan agrees, saying it knocked the bastards down a peg. Kat asks if it’d be fair to say that she takes a pretty extreme view on politics, and Susan says she has to: no one gives you an inch without it. “And now you’ve climbed all the way up to Athletic Director,” Miller observes. Susan stops and tells Miller to say what she means, so she does, beginning with a theory that Andi was getting in the way of Susan’s agenda. Susan argues that Andi was good for her agenda, she just needed enlightenment. Miller adds that they also heard that Andi’s dad wanted Susan fired. Susan says this was because he didn’t want to stop coaching her, but Kat argues that after Andi died, Susan kept her job. “I hear you,” she comments. “So?” Kat retorts. Susan says that Bill was a tennis dad, an overreaching pain in the ass, and they tussled over Andi. Miller concludes that they both wanted a piece of her, and Susan agrees, saying it was because Andi was so special, but says they came together when they ran into a real enemy.
Tennis courts. Bill tosses balls to Andi, instructing her to run around, and praising her when she does. He then tosses her one more and tells her to put it away, which she does, then heads off the court for some water. Susan points out that Andi just had a three-hour practice, and he orders her not to start. Susan argues that Andi’s her player, and Bill asks who put a racket in Andi’s hand when she was four years old: Susan, or him? She’s saved from having to answer by the arrival of a sleazy-looking guy in a suit, who comments that this must be the superstar everyone’s talking about, then introduces himself to Bill as Arnold Brown, Athletic Director. They shake hands, and Bill introduces himself and Andi. Turning to Andi, Arnold says he’s heard she’s the next Billie Jean King, and Andi smiles modestly and says she’d like to be. Arnold continues, asking about the Battle of the Sexes match, and Andi explains that she and Fritz Adams are playing: #1 against #1. Arnold tells Susan it sounds like something she dreamed up, and Susan says she’s just trying to raise money, since they’ve got such a crap budget. Arnold laughs and guesses that the “trolls” at the women’s center put Andi up to this, but she disagrees, saying she wants to play and win. Bill smiles proudly as Arnold says it certainly would be interesting, but problematic, too. Andi asks why, and Arnold explains that these are complicated times, with a lot of demands being made, but Andi argues that she’s just going out there to play, and it’s not complicated for her. Arnold says that this Title IX business is a slippery slope: they don’t want to embarrass the University, and they have an obligation to men’s athletics. Bill takes issue at the “embarrassment” part of Arnold’s argument, saying that Andi’s dynamite and she’ll make him proud. Arnold says that it’s harmless enough to have an exhibition game, but an upset could stir the pot and be bad for everyone. Susan looks exasperated as Andi concludes that Arnold wants her to throw the match. He claps Andi on the shoulder and says, with due respect, that he doubts Fritz will need the help. Susan takes issue with this, saying he hasn’t seen what this girl can do, but Arnold starts to walk away. Andi calls after him that she always plays to win, and Arnold stops and says that maybe he wasn’t clear: an upset is not a possibility. He then says he’ll be watching and waves cheerfully at them as he departs.
Susan says that, to Arnold, that was the last word, and he was so sure Andi would just obey him. “And lose on purpose,” Miller concludes. Susan says that, in his mind, that’s what they’d agreed to. “But then Andi won,” Kat realizes, and Susan finishes her thought. “And was dead the next day.”
