Post by TVFan on Jul 5, 2008 17:41:56 GMT -5
Recap Provided by Cellogal
December 31, 1928
1928? Did I read that right? But the presence of flappers indicates that, yes, I did read that right. 1928. Wow. Anyway, as Paul Whiteman and his orchestra play “Charleston,” a dark-haired girl stands alone in the center of the room near the punch bowl, looking around at the goings-on, which include lots of drinking, dancing, and flirting. Suddenly, another girl comes up to the brunette, whose name we learn is Violet, and proclaims her an absolute killjoy. Violet apologizes, saying she doesn’t know anyone here. Her friend tells her that’s what parties are for: making new friends. You never know, she says, they could be Hollywood stars or bank men. Violet looks around and declares that the Bartlebys have a beautiful home. “Of course they have a beautiful home,” her friend replies, “they built the railroad from here to Timbuktu.” Really? They did? Wow. I sure wasn’t aware of any trans-oceanic rail lines, but, then again, my world history is a bit fuzzy. Violet wonders aloud if they’d feel different when they woke up in the morning if they were this rich. “Sure,” her friend says drily. “You wake up warm.” She then spies a guy over Violet’s shoulder and points him out to her as Bartleby, saying he makes Valentino look like a slob. Well, I think he looks more like Leonardo di Caprio, who I find insufferably annoying. I’ll try not to let this color my view of the character, but no guarantees. Violet bets these Bartlebys feel well-rested and clear every day, since they don’t have to dream every night. “Why would they?” her friend asks bitterly, then proclaims Violet an odd duck, but says she likes her. Violet smiles at the compliment, then swears that 1929 is going to be the best year of her life; she’s going to see the world. Her friend swears to meet a wealthy man who’s also handsome. Yeah, good luck with that. They then realize that it’s almost midnight, and count down to ring in the New Year. Toasting, cheering, and general merriment ensues.
Oops. It looks like something didn’t go according to plan. Violet lies dead in the snow. Back at PPD, a detective fills out a form on her death, listing the cause as blunt force trauma and exposure, then places it in a folder marked, “Polley, Violet: Murder.”
Present Day
Coffee shop. Lilly walks in, looking a bit reluctant, and sees a middle-aged blonde sitting alone at a table chugging a coffee. Hey, wait a minute. That’s Elyse Keaton from Family Ties! My, but she’s…not…young anymore. Come to think of it, neither am I, if I can instantly place Meredith Baxter and remember her from Family Ties. Lilly walks up to her, and they greet each other awkwardly. Meredith says she got a cup for Lilly, too. She worries that it’s too cold, but Lilly can stick her finger in and see. Wow…if I were a betting woman, I’d bet that this is Lil’s mom, the infamous Ellen Rush! Lilly sits down and says that she had coffee at home. Ellen continues, saying she’s so relieved to see Lilly, after reading about what happened to her last year with that maniac, then places her hand on top of Lilly’s and asks if she’s doing well. Lilly, years of hurt evident in her eyes and voice, says she thought maybe Ellen would call. Ellen comes up with the first excuse that pops into her head, which is that she wanted to give Lilly space. (Although, knowing Lil, that is a pretty good first response…) “But you look fine,” her mom says, to absolve herself of guilt for not calling. “So do you,” Lilly replies sadly as she withdraws her hand. Wow. Her mother says it’s because she’s happy, because she’s getting married. Lilly surmises that this is why Ellen wanted to see her, and Ellen enthuses that when you know someone’s right for you, you feel it undeniably in your bones, then asks if Lilly’s ever had that feeling. Lilly pauses awkwardly for a moment, then deflects the question, asking her mother the guy’s name. “Jackie,” her mother says giddily, then asks if Lilly will let her buy her a beautiful dress and shoes and be her maid of honor. “What about Chris?” Lilly asks, and Ellen explains that Lil’s her firstborn, and Chris will understand. Yeah, right. Lilly believes this about as much as I do. “You can’t find her, can you?” she asks her mother, and Ellen explains that Chris isn’t like Lilly and doesn’t need a home base. Lilly points out that Chris is running from the law, and her mother scolds her to watch what she says about her sister. Lil’s had enough and gets up to leave, saying she’s really busy, and Ellen says she knows Lilly’s job is important to her. Lilly claims that they’re overloaded, and Ellen says she doesn’t have to make a decision now, then tells her to have dinner with her and Jackie. “I’ll see,” Lilly says noncommittally, then smiles and heads out.
Squad room. Scotty’s at his desk talking to a pregnant woman, who’s telling him that her great-grandmother was murdered in 1929. “1929,” Scotty repeats in disbelief, then goes back to being professional and lets her continue. She knows it was a long time ago, but she felt like she had to come in there for herself. She tells Scotty she’s been preparing, doing the family history, then hands him a piece of paper and says she found it online. He opens it, and we see that it’s Violet Polley’s death certificate. She says that’s all she’s got. Scotty observes that there are no relatives listed, just the boardinghouse where Violet lived. The woman says Violet gave up her grandmother for adoption, and all they had was her name: Violet Polley. Scotty remarks that this isn’t a lot to go on, then seems relieved to see Lilly come in. He introduces her to the woman, Aimie Goodman, and fills Lilly in on the 1929 murder of Aimie’s great-grandmother. “’29, huh?” Lilly remarks. “Do you ever feel like you wanna change your life, but you can’t outrun your screwed-up family?” Aimie asks. Boy, is THAT the absolute perfect thing to say to Lil to get her to take this case! “Yeah,” Lilly says simply, and then Aimie goes on to say that the women in her family have not had the greatest lives, and she thinks it goes back to Violet, like a curse hanging over them. Scotty tells Aimie that they’re swamped right now, and not a lot of spare time. He hands the death certificate back to Aimie, but Lilly takes it from her and says they’ll make the time. Told you it was the right thing to say! Scotty gives Lil a “Gee, thanks for volunteering me for this” look, and Aimie smiles with relief as Lilly says she’ll give it every second she has.
Credits.
Squad room. Stillman reads the death certificate, noting that Violet was found dead on Christmas Day, 1929, and Lilly tells us that the cause of death was a fractured skull from a blow to the head. Miller notices from the photos that there’s not a lot of blood at the crime scene, leading Stillman to conclude that she didn’t die there; her body was dumped. Lilly surmises that Violet didn’t have a lot of family to spend the holidays with, as there’s none listed, and Stillman gives the home address as Darlington Boardinghouse in Old City. Lilly says she knows that place, and Stillman informs us that it’s on the Historical Register, and Susan B. Anthony lived there for a time. Kat comments that they made them go there in junior high, but she can’t remember a thing except the gift shop. Heh.
Scotty comes up then with a paper-wrapped packet, commenting that the guys in Evidence whined at him like a bunch of pre-teens. Hee. “Guess they hate dust,” he remarks, as he pulls back the elastic and lets it snap against the packet, releasing quite the dust cloud. He unwraps the packet and announces that these are all the belongings Violet had with her when the body was found. It’s not much: just a purse and a small metal object that looks like a miniature dumbbell. As Miller picks it up, Lilly asks what it is, and Miller shakes it and realizes it’s a rattle. “For her baby,” Scotty concludes, “Aimie’s grandmother.” Stillman asks about the baby’s father, and Lilly says no one knows who it was, and Scotty says they don’t even know for sure when the baby was born, just that she was brought up at St. Mary’s Orphanage in Germantown. Stillman instructs the detectives to start with the Darlington Boardinghouse, thinking maybe they can fill in the gaps on Violet staying there. Miller and Stillman both head off then, and Scotty looks over at Lilly and asks how it went with her mom this morning. “She’s getting married!” Lilly announces, with false enthusiasm. “Oh,” Scotty says with a grin. “For the fourth time,” Lilly finishes, and Scotty watches her as she walks off.
Darlington Boardinghouse. Scotty and Miller examine a quilt with the name “Rosie” on it as the curator explains that the quilt was made entirely by hand. “Amazing, right?” she says. “That’s a girl with time on her hands.” “Better than snackin’,” Kat remarks. Heh. The curator says that single girls lived in the boardinghouse from 1860 to 1934, and left a lot behind, quilt included, plus a small book she pulls out of a display case, which looks like a diary of some sort. Miller makes the same observation, and the curator tells them that it covers the years 1928 and 1929. Scotty asks the curator if she’s ever seen the name Violet Polley in there, and the curator says she’s one of the main characters. No. Way. She finds the page where Violet is first mentioned and hands it to Miller, who reads aloud. “Ginger Swensen made it her business to turn Violet from a rag-a-muffin to a real Sheba.” “No kiddin’,” Scotty remarks, then asks about the date. Kat tells him it’s December 31, 1928, New Year’s Eve, then continues reading. “First order of business: the hair…”
Boardinghouse, where we hear Louis Armstrong & His Hot Five play “Heebie Jeebies.” A dark-haired girl sits writing in the journal as Violet protests that she won’t even recognize herself. Her friend from the party, who I would presume is Ginger, says that’s the idea: out with the old, in with the swanky. Ginger asks Violet where she’s from, and Violet replies that she’s from Oley Valley, near Reading. Ginger offers her a swig from a flask, but Violet says she doesn’t drink: she has to keep her mind sharp, because she’s a writer. Ginger finds this funny, saying every writer she’s ever met is either “a fry through the hat” or passed out on Nick Bartleby’s couch. Ginger asks Violet if she’s got a daddy, and Violet says that he’s dead, and her mother, too. Ginger smiles kindly and explains that “daddy” means “fella,” and Violet says she did, but that’s all over. “The male persuasion are saps, all of ‘em,” Ginger comments, then starts to drape a cloth over Violet’s shoulders and says she made it to Philadelphia because that’s what the bus ticket she stole said on it, then asks about Violet. Violet heard a song about Philadelphia on the radio back home, and as Ginger begins cutting Violet’s hair, she says that it was the most on-the-level song she’d ever heard, and when it was over, she felt utterly different. Ginger asks what song, and Violet says it was “Poor Man’s Blues” by Bessie Smith, then explains that that’s why she’s here: to sell her songs to wonderful singers. “But Bessie Smith’s a Negro,” Ginger points out, and Violet says that a writer needs to see the world. Ginger points out that it ain’t the world, it’s just Philadelphia, and Violet says they’ll see it tonight at the Bartleby mansion. And Violet’s clearly touched on Ginger’s favorite subject, because Ginger grins and says that it’s gonna be “the berries.”
Scotty chuckles at the mention of the Bartleby mansion, then asks Miller if she’s seen that place. She wryly comments that she could fit 25 of her apartments in there. The curator explains that the Bartlebys were American royalty, and their parties were known all over the East coast. Kat remarks that this is a pretty good invitation for a boardinghouse girl, and the curator says that the girls who lived there were single, and on the younger side. “Ain’t a party without cute girls,” Scotty comments, earning him a chuckle from the curator, and then Miller asks if there are any Bartlebys left in Philly. The curator says Nick Bartleby died in a hunting accident, and the only one left is Muriel, who they say hasn’t left the house in years. Scotty asks her if they can borrow the journal, and the curator says it’s bad enough that she’s letting them touch it with their bare hands. Scotty merely grins at her, and she relents, but issues them strict instructions not to expose it to direct sunlight or moisture. Kat rolls her eyes slightly, and Scotty just turns his foolproof grin on her.
Library. Lilly’s sitting at a table, poring over some books. Vera comes up and says he was plotting his escape when he found something helpful, then tosses a sheaf of papers in front of Lilly. The librarian stands up and shushes him, but he flashes his badge, and she sits down forthwith. Heh. Lilly flashes him a dazzling smile, and he just gives her this fabulous disgruntled look. Lilly then looks at what he plopped in front of her: WPA transcripts of an interview on the Roaring ‘20s with one Ginger Swensen. No. Way. Vera confirms that this is, in fact, the name from the journal, and Lil remembers that she’s the one who cut Violet’s hair. Vera gives us a brief history lesson: The WPA, during the New Deal, paid people to do interviews with everyday Joes, and Ginger was one of them, talking about the roaring ‘20s. Lil begins reading: “Before the big crash, we whooped it up.” Vera says that according to the interview, the biggest whoop of all was that New Year’s Eve party, and Lilly continues reading. “Where a friend of mine, an inexperienced farm girl from Oley Valley, had a bit too much to drink…”
Bartleby mansion. Violet, with her new, improved, swanky haircut, is engaged in a tug-of-war with a little girl over a glass of champagne. The girl brats that it’s her house, but then a servant comes up, sends the girl, Muriel, off to bed, on orders from her brother, and hands the glass to Violet. Ginger comes up then, and Violet says that Ginger was right: liquor is an artist’s best friend, and she’s filled with a certain joie d’ vivre (the pronunciation of which she mangles as only a naïve small-town person can). She then says, in a tipsily conspiratorial tone, that she’d like to sing a song for everyone. Ginger proclaims this the cat’s pajamas and tells her to hit it, and she nods, smiles drunkenly, and heads off. Ginger, slightly alarmed, watches her leave. Meanwhile, Violet’s reached the piano and whispers something in the pianist’s ear. He nods, and the next thing we know, Violet has climbed up on top of the piano. Ginger looks even more alarmed, but her alarm turns to amusement as Violet slurs a cheery hello to the crowd, telling them that this is a lovely party. She then announces that this song is about poor farmers where she’s from, then tells them to enjoy. Nobody’s really paying attention to her at this point, but when she starts to sing, people stop talking and start looking in her direction. Nick Bartleby in particular is watching her with a smarmy grin. As she finishes the song, people applaud enthusiastically, and she takes a bow and lurches her way off the piano. The servant from earlier helps her down, and she thanks him, then asks his name. “I am Felix Spyczyk,” he says, and she wishes him a Happy New Year. He takes her elbow then, and she angrily asks him what he means to do here, and he smiles at her and tells her to come with him, someplace private. She asks him what kind of a girl he thinks she is, and he replies that she’s the kind of girl who drinks too much champagne, then leads her away as she orders him to get his filthy hands off her. Ginger, still looking alarmed, watches them go.
Lilly finishes reading. “We were only young girls with the most vague idea of what catching a man’s eye could really mean.” Vera concludes that Spyczyk takes advantage of the girls at his boss’s party, and Lilly theorizes that maybe what he did to Violet had consequences. “And those consequences,” Vera concludes, “wound up at St. Mary’s Orphanage without a mother.”
Stillman’s office. Stillman picks up a file on Felix Spyczyk and says he was Bartleby’s driver; at least, that’s what he told the arresting officer in 1922. Lilly explains that he was picked up for illegal possession of liquor in 1922, and Vera adds the other offenses of visiting a bawdy house in 1928 and possession of opium in 1925. Lilly concludes that this isn’t the sort of guy you’d want around young girls at your party, and says it’d be great to ask the Bartlebys about it. Vera says that Kat and Scotty went to the mansion this morning, but didn’t get an answer, and Stillman adds that the family lawyer hasn’t returned any calls. Miller comes in just then, and Stillman says he heard about the Bartleby visit. Kat says she could have sworn she saw Muriel through the curtains. Vera comments that she must leave the house sometimes and suggests lying in wait while she gets the morning paper. Hee. The idea of any of these detectives staking out an old lady is hilarious for some reason. Miller then hands Lilly a phone message and informs her that her mom called a few times, wanting to make sure she had the address for the restaurant. Lilly looks a bit horrified as she takes the message from Kat and explains, reluctantly, that Ellen wants her to be her Maid of Honor. “Buttering you up with a free meal,” Vera remarks drily, and Lil guesses that if she goes, maybe her mom will stop calling.
Office. Jeffries informs a gentleman sitting at a large wooden desk that they’re investigating the murder of a girl seen at the Bartleby New Year’s Eve party in 1928, being manhandled by Felix Spyczyk. The guy smiles ruefully and says that his grandfather did many things during that period that he wasn’t proud of. These include his criminal record and whatever young girls he was seen manhandling. “He told you about that?” Jeffries responds with surprise, and Felix’s grandson explains that it was part of Felix’s job: he was a procurer. “For Bartleby,” Scotty realizes, and Felix’s grandson says that whatever the great man wanted, that’s what Felix had to get him. “Booze and girls,” Scotty concludes with a grin. Felix’s grandson goes on to say that Felix served Nick Bartleby for seven years, and then one day, Bartleby fired him; plucking a clock off the mantle and telling him to take it and hit the road. Jeffries comments that Felix made good, and the grandson says he sold the clock for $75 and started Spyczyk Shipping. He also says it took him years, but he tracked the clock down and bought it at an auction.
Conveniently enough, the clock in question happens to be sitting on a shelf in that very office! Scotty asks if Felix told him a lot about his days with Bartleby, and the grandson explains that at the end of his life, Felix wanted to tell his stories, so the grandson listened and made tapes of them. No. Way. He then gets up and heads over to a shelf as Jeffries asks if Felix mentioned the night he procured Violet Polley the night of the New Year’s party. The grandson has retrieved a briefcase and starts to open it, telling us that Violet was the one girl who said no to Nick Bartleby. Scotty watches with the same expression I have on my face: are we to believe that this guy just happens to have his grandfather’s tapes, along with a tape player, knows the exact tape he needs, and even has it cued up and everything? My, how deliciously convenient! Let’s listen, shall we? We hear Felix’s voice saying that her name was Violet Polley, a songwriter from Oley Valley, and a boozy floozy. Scotty realizes that this is their girl, and Felix goes on to say that Mr. Bartleby had told him to get the “singing dame,” so he did.
Private room at the Bartleby mansion. Felix hauls Violet in as she demands for him to let her out. Felix exclaims something in his consonant-intensive native language, and Nick tells Felix to let her out. Felix reminds Nick of his directive to bring this one, but Nick says not if she’s violently opposed to being in the same room with him, which she is. He gets up and turns on the charm. “Unless I’m growing on you and you’d like a drink,” he offers with a flirtatious smile. “No, thank you,” Violet says. Nick instructs Felix to bar the door until the lady answers one question: what on Earth was that song? He seems genuinely interested, and Violet informs him that “One Last Dress” is an original by Violet Polley. Okay, wait…then how’d the pianist know the…? Oh, never mind. My brain will hurt if I think too hard about this episode. “Oh, I know her,” Nick comments cockily. “She’s known to get a little soused at soirees and show her knickers to strangers.” Violet protests indignantly that she does not, and Nick laughs. “Well, darn it,” he replies. Heh. Violet stares at him for a moment, then asks him if he ever misses being part of the human race with the rest of them, or if he likes life up on his mountain. Nick says he doesn’t think he’s any better than the average Joe, if that’s what she’s implying. Violet just wonders if it gets old, waking up each morning with nothing to work for. Nick tells her that if he had a talent like hers, he would work, and she smiles and thanks him. “But,” he continues, “as God made me, I can only offer you charm, which does nothing for you.” Violet agrees that this is true. He goes on to say that he and his loyal driver Spyczyk, half as handsome but twice the man Nick is, can see her safely home in his Packard. Violet doesn’t think so, informing him that she’s a songwriter, not a boozy floozy. She leaves then, and Nick watches her go. Felix shuts the door and turns around with an amused grin, which he promptly wipes off his face as he sees his boss.
Jeffries realizes that Violet’s rejection of Nick Bartleby was a bold move, and the grandson tells us the punch line: Bartleby loved it. “The one girl who says no turns his head?” Scotty asks, and the grandson says Nick sent 300 flowers to the boardinghouse the next day, instructing Felix to lay them thick as Oriental carpet. Jeffries asks him how many of those tapes he’s got, and he says he has days’ worth. “How much would you like to know about Poland?” he asks, and it’s clear from the expression on Scotty’s face that his answer, anyway, is “not much.” He tells Felix’s grandson they’ll get back to him, and the detectives shake hands with him and head out.
In the hallway, Jeffries tells Scotty that “300 Flowers” is the name of an old blues standard, and the lyrics go like an Oriental carpet: thick and sweet. Scotty remembers that Violet was a songwriter and asks Jeffries where he heard that. Jeffries casually says that a singer he knows, Lena, covers it. Scotty stops walking and grins at Jeffries. “Lena, huh?” he asks. He then examines Jeffries from head to toe, saying he needs to get a look at the threads, then proclaims them all right. Jeffries asks Scotty suspiciously what he’s doing. “Just makin’ sure you look good enough to see the woman you talk about in your sleep; we’re goin’ to see her,” Scotty remarks cheerfully. Jeffries looks incredulously at Scotty. “Not we,” he argues. Hee.
Lena’s place. Jeffries eyes the sheet music to “300 Flowers,” realizes that it’s credited to V. Polley, and seems satisfied to note that she got a song published and put a few dollars in her pocket. Lena says that it’s a pretty upbeat song, but it is about a love triangle. “A woman choosin’ between two men,” Jeffries guesses, and Lena confirms it with a line of the song. “When I gave up what was ours, I met a man so kind.” Jeffries supposes Bartleby could be the kind one, and Lena agrees that leaving a woman 300 flowers is kind. Hey, Jeffries…are you paying attention? ‘Cause she just kinda gave you a major hint there. He smiles broadly, then suggests that Lena bring the song to life. She scoots over on the piano bench and begins to play and sing, and Jeffries watches her with a proud smile.
Boardinghouse. Violet’s voice superimposes over Lena’s to sing “300 Flowers” (an original song for this episode with music by Michael Levine and lyrics by Liz W. Garcia) as we see her surrounded by some of those aforementioned flowers. That really is rather a lot. A young man walks in then and, removing his hat, tells Violet that he came to take her back, but it seems she’s plumb forgotten what they made together. He looks around at the flowers and says that he hates to think of what she’s been doing to earn them. Violet protests that she’s been working on her songs, but he orders her to get her head on straight, that she’s acting bigger than she is. Violet insists that she won’t go home with him and tend to pigs all her life. Good call on that one. Pigs stink. The charmer tells her that that’s who she is, and he doesn’t want to tell her again. Ginger bursts in then and tells Violet she has three guesses to guess which gorgeous man is downstairs asking for Violet personally. She then notices Violet’s visitor and, looking like she’s realized she just put her foot in her mouth in a serious way, apologizes. The guy goes to the window and looks outside to see Felix standing beside a blue Packard. He and Felix glare at each other for a minute, and then he goes back inside and grabs Violet, demanding to know if she’s been acting loose. “Be careful,” a smooth voice warns from the doorway, “she kicks. I’ve seen it.” Glaring at Nick, the guy tells him Violet’s spoken for, calls him a cake-eater, and tells him to scram. Nick is undeterred and quietly says that she speaks for herself. Decision made, Violet orders her pig-farmer ex to tell people back in Oley Valley that they’ll hear about her, but they’ll never see her back there again. She then heads for Nick, telling him she’ll take a ride in the fancy car. “I’d like to see the world, please,” she says as she walks past. She takes one last look at Pig Farmer before leaving with Cake Eater.
Lena surmises from the lyrics that it sounds like Violet chose Bartleby. Jeffries recalls the first line about leaving behind what was ours, and asks Lena if she thinks that could mean a baby. She says it could be, explaining that songs from this era are coded when referring to something scandalous. Jeffries’ detective wheels are turning, concluding that hometown guy thought he was going to get a second chance with the mother of his baby and got thrown over for someone new. Lena says that a lot of sad songs are written about being thrown over. “Many lives ended over it, too,” Jeffries finishes.
December 31, 1928
1928? Did I read that right? But the presence of flappers indicates that, yes, I did read that right. 1928. Wow. Anyway, as Paul Whiteman and his orchestra play “Charleston,” a dark-haired girl stands alone in the center of the room near the punch bowl, looking around at the goings-on, which include lots of drinking, dancing, and flirting. Suddenly, another girl comes up to the brunette, whose name we learn is Violet, and proclaims her an absolute killjoy. Violet apologizes, saying she doesn’t know anyone here. Her friend tells her that’s what parties are for: making new friends. You never know, she says, they could be Hollywood stars or bank men. Violet looks around and declares that the Bartlebys have a beautiful home. “Of course they have a beautiful home,” her friend replies, “they built the railroad from here to Timbuktu.” Really? They did? Wow. I sure wasn’t aware of any trans-oceanic rail lines, but, then again, my world history is a bit fuzzy. Violet wonders aloud if they’d feel different when they woke up in the morning if they were this rich. “Sure,” her friend says drily. “You wake up warm.” She then spies a guy over Violet’s shoulder and points him out to her as Bartleby, saying he makes Valentino look like a slob. Well, I think he looks more like Leonardo di Caprio, who I find insufferably annoying. I’ll try not to let this color my view of the character, but no guarantees. Violet bets these Bartlebys feel well-rested and clear every day, since they don’t have to dream every night. “Why would they?” her friend asks bitterly, then proclaims Violet an odd duck, but says she likes her. Violet smiles at the compliment, then swears that 1929 is going to be the best year of her life; she’s going to see the world. Her friend swears to meet a wealthy man who’s also handsome. Yeah, good luck with that. They then realize that it’s almost midnight, and count down to ring in the New Year. Toasting, cheering, and general merriment ensues.
Oops. It looks like something didn’t go according to plan. Violet lies dead in the snow. Back at PPD, a detective fills out a form on her death, listing the cause as blunt force trauma and exposure, then places it in a folder marked, “Polley, Violet: Murder.”
Present Day
Coffee shop. Lilly walks in, looking a bit reluctant, and sees a middle-aged blonde sitting alone at a table chugging a coffee. Hey, wait a minute. That’s Elyse Keaton from Family Ties! My, but she’s…not…young anymore. Come to think of it, neither am I, if I can instantly place Meredith Baxter and remember her from Family Ties. Lilly walks up to her, and they greet each other awkwardly. Meredith says she got a cup for Lilly, too. She worries that it’s too cold, but Lilly can stick her finger in and see. Wow…if I were a betting woman, I’d bet that this is Lil’s mom, the infamous Ellen Rush! Lilly sits down and says that she had coffee at home. Ellen continues, saying she’s so relieved to see Lilly, after reading about what happened to her last year with that maniac, then places her hand on top of Lilly’s and asks if she’s doing well. Lilly, years of hurt evident in her eyes and voice, says she thought maybe Ellen would call. Ellen comes up with the first excuse that pops into her head, which is that she wanted to give Lilly space. (Although, knowing Lil, that is a pretty good first response…) “But you look fine,” her mom says, to absolve herself of guilt for not calling. “So do you,” Lilly replies sadly as she withdraws her hand. Wow. Her mother says it’s because she’s happy, because she’s getting married. Lilly surmises that this is why Ellen wanted to see her, and Ellen enthuses that when you know someone’s right for you, you feel it undeniably in your bones, then asks if Lilly’s ever had that feeling. Lilly pauses awkwardly for a moment, then deflects the question, asking her mother the guy’s name. “Jackie,” her mother says giddily, then asks if Lilly will let her buy her a beautiful dress and shoes and be her maid of honor. “What about Chris?” Lilly asks, and Ellen explains that Lil’s her firstborn, and Chris will understand. Yeah, right. Lilly believes this about as much as I do. “You can’t find her, can you?” she asks her mother, and Ellen explains that Chris isn’t like Lilly and doesn’t need a home base. Lilly points out that Chris is running from the law, and her mother scolds her to watch what she says about her sister. Lil’s had enough and gets up to leave, saying she’s really busy, and Ellen says she knows Lilly’s job is important to her. Lilly claims that they’re overloaded, and Ellen says she doesn’t have to make a decision now, then tells her to have dinner with her and Jackie. “I’ll see,” Lilly says noncommittally, then smiles and heads out.
Squad room. Scotty’s at his desk talking to a pregnant woman, who’s telling him that her great-grandmother was murdered in 1929. “1929,” Scotty repeats in disbelief, then goes back to being professional and lets her continue. She knows it was a long time ago, but she felt like she had to come in there for herself. She tells Scotty she’s been preparing, doing the family history, then hands him a piece of paper and says she found it online. He opens it, and we see that it’s Violet Polley’s death certificate. She says that’s all she’s got. Scotty observes that there are no relatives listed, just the boardinghouse where Violet lived. The woman says Violet gave up her grandmother for adoption, and all they had was her name: Violet Polley. Scotty remarks that this isn’t a lot to go on, then seems relieved to see Lilly come in. He introduces her to the woman, Aimie Goodman, and fills Lilly in on the 1929 murder of Aimie’s great-grandmother. “’29, huh?” Lilly remarks. “Do you ever feel like you wanna change your life, but you can’t outrun your screwed-up family?” Aimie asks. Boy, is THAT the absolute perfect thing to say to Lil to get her to take this case! “Yeah,” Lilly says simply, and then Aimie goes on to say that the women in her family have not had the greatest lives, and she thinks it goes back to Violet, like a curse hanging over them. Scotty tells Aimie that they’re swamped right now, and not a lot of spare time. He hands the death certificate back to Aimie, but Lilly takes it from her and says they’ll make the time. Told you it was the right thing to say! Scotty gives Lil a “Gee, thanks for volunteering me for this” look, and Aimie smiles with relief as Lilly says she’ll give it every second she has.
Credits.
Squad room. Stillman reads the death certificate, noting that Violet was found dead on Christmas Day, 1929, and Lilly tells us that the cause of death was a fractured skull from a blow to the head. Miller notices from the photos that there’s not a lot of blood at the crime scene, leading Stillman to conclude that she didn’t die there; her body was dumped. Lilly surmises that Violet didn’t have a lot of family to spend the holidays with, as there’s none listed, and Stillman gives the home address as Darlington Boardinghouse in Old City. Lilly says she knows that place, and Stillman informs us that it’s on the Historical Register, and Susan B. Anthony lived there for a time. Kat comments that they made them go there in junior high, but she can’t remember a thing except the gift shop. Heh.
Scotty comes up then with a paper-wrapped packet, commenting that the guys in Evidence whined at him like a bunch of pre-teens. Hee. “Guess they hate dust,” he remarks, as he pulls back the elastic and lets it snap against the packet, releasing quite the dust cloud. He unwraps the packet and announces that these are all the belongings Violet had with her when the body was found. It’s not much: just a purse and a small metal object that looks like a miniature dumbbell. As Miller picks it up, Lilly asks what it is, and Miller shakes it and realizes it’s a rattle. “For her baby,” Scotty concludes, “Aimie’s grandmother.” Stillman asks about the baby’s father, and Lilly says no one knows who it was, and Scotty says they don’t even know for sure when the baby was born, just that she was brought up at St. Mary’s Orphanage in Germantown. Stillman instructs the detectives to start with the Darlington Boardinghouse, thinking maybe they can fill in the gaps on Violet staying there. Miller and Stillman both head off then, and Scotty looks over at Lilly and asks how it went with her mom this morning. “She’s getting married!” Lilly announces, with false enthusiasm. “Oh,” Scotty says with a grin. “For the fourth time,” Lilly finishes, and Scotty watches her as she walks off.
Darlington Boardinghouse. Scotty and Miller examine a quilt with the name “Rosie” on it as the curator explains that the quilt was made entirely by hand. “Amazing, right?” she says. “That’s a girl with time on her hands.” “Better than snackin’,” Kat remarks. Heh. The curator says that single girls lived in the boardinghouse from 1860 to 1934, and left a lot behind, quilt included, plus a small book she pulls out of a display case, which looks like a diary of some sort. Miller makes the same observation, and the curator tells them that it covers the years 1928 and 1929. Scotty asks the curator if she’s ever seen the name Violet Polley in there, and the curator says she’s one of the main characters. No. Way. She finds the page where Violet is first mentioned and hands it to Miller, who reads aloud. “Ginger Swensen made it her business to turn Violet from a rag-a-muffin to a real Sheba.” “No kiddin’,” Scotty remarks, then asks about the date. Kat tells him it’s December 31, 1928, New Year’s Eve, then continues reading. “First order of business: the hair…”
Boardinghouse, where we hear Louis Armstrong & His Hot Five play “Heebie Jeebies.” A dark-haired girl sits writing in the journal as Violet protests that she won’t even recognize herself. Her friend from the party, who I would presume is Ginger, says that’s the idea: out with the old, in with the swanky. Ginger asks Violet where she’s from, and Violet replies that she’s from Oley Valley, near Reading. Ginger offers her a swig from a flask, but Violet says she doesn’t drink: she has to keep her mind sharp, because she’s a writer. Ginger finds this funny, saying every writer she’s ever met is either “a fry through the hat” or passed out on Nick Bartleby’s couch. Ginger asks Violet if she’s got a daddy, and Violet says that he’s dead, and her mother, too. Ginger smiles kindly and explains that “daddy” means “fella,” and Violet says she did, but that’s all over. “The male persuasion are saps, all of ‘em,” Ginger comments, then starts to drape a cloth over Violet’s shoulders and says she made it to Philadelphia because that’s what the bus ticket she stole said on it, then asks about Violet. Violet heard a song about Philadelphia on the radio back home, and as Ginger begins cutting Violet’s hair, she says that it was the most on-the-level song she’d ever heard, and when it was over, she felt utterly different. Ginger asks what song, and Violet says it was “Poor Man’s Blues” by Bessie Smith, then explains that that’s why she’s here: to sell her songs to wonderful singers. “But Bessie Smith’s a Negro,” Ginger points out, and Violet says that a writer needs to see the world. Ginger points out that it ain’t the world, it’s just Philadelphia, and Violet says they’ll see it tonight at the Bartleby mansion. And Violet’s clearly touched on Ginger’s favorite subject, because Ginger grins and says that it’s gonna be “the berries.”
Scotty chuckles at the mention of the Bartleby mansion, then asks Miller if she’s seen that place. She wryly comments that she could fit 25 of her apartments in there. The curator explains that the Bartlebys were American royalty, and their parties were known all over the East coast. Kat remarks that this is a pretty good invitation for a boardinghouse girl, and the curator says that the girls who lived there were single, and on the younger side. “Ain’t a party without cute girls,” Scotty comments, earning him a chuckle from the curator, and then Miller asks if there are any Bartlebys left in Philly. The curator says Nick Bartleby died in a hunting accident, and the only one left is Muriel, who they say hasn’t left the house in years. Scotty asks her if they can borrow the journal, and the curator says it’s bad enough that she’s letting them touch it with their bare hands. Scotty merely grins at her, and she relents, but issues them strict instructions not to expose it to direct sunlight or moisture. Kat rolls her eyes slightly, and Scotty just turns his foolproof grin on her.
Library. Lilly’s sitting at a table, poring over some books. Vera comes up and says he was plotting his escape when he found something helpful, then tosses a sheaf of papers in front of Lilly. The librarian stands up and shushes him, but he flashes his badge, and she sits down forthwith. Heh. Lilly flashes him a dazzling smile, and he just gives her this fabulous disgruntled look. Lilly then looks at what he plopped in front of her: WPA transcripts of an interview on the Roaring ‘20s with one Ginger Swensen. No. Way. Vera confirms that this is, in fact, the name from the journal, and Lil remembers that she’s the one who cut Violet’s hair. Vera gives us a brief history lesson: The WPA, during the New Deal, paid people to do interviews with everyday Joes, and Ginger was one of them, talking about the roaring ‘20s. Lil begins reading: “Before the big crash, we whooped it up.” Vera says that according to the interview, the biggest whoop of all was that New Year’s Eve party, and Lilly continues reading. “Where a friend of mine, an inexperienced farm girl from Oley Valley, had a bit too much to drink…”
Bartleby mansion. Violet, with her new, improved, swanky haircut, is engaged in a tug-of-war with a little girl over a glass of champagne. The girl brats that it’s her house, but then a servant comes up, sends the girl, Muriel, off to bed, on orders from her brother, and hands the glass to Violet. Ginger comes up then, and Violet says that Ginger was right: liquor is an artist’s best friend, and she’s filled with a certain joie d’ vivre (the pronunciation of which she mangles as only a naïve small-town person can). She then says, in a tipsily conspiratorial tone, that she’d like to sing a song for everyone. Ginger proclaims this the cat’s pajamas and tells her to hit it, and she nods, smiles drunkenly, and heads off. Ginger, slightly alarmed, watches her leave. Meanwhile, Violet’s reached the piano and whispers something in the pianist’s ear. He nods, and the next thing we know, Violet has climbed up on top of the piano. Ginger looks even more alarmed, but her alarm turns to amusement as Violet slurs a cheery hello to the crowd, telling them that this is a lovely party. She then announces that this song is about poor farmers where she’s from, then tells them to enjoy. Nobody’s really paying attention to her at this point, but when she starts to sing, people stop talking and start looking in her direction. Nick Bartleby in particular is watching her with a smarmy grin. As she finishes the song, people applaud enthusiastically, and she takes a bow and lurches her way off the piano. The servant from earlier helps her down, and she thanks him, then asks his name. “I am Felix Spyczyk,” he says, and she wishes him a Happy New Year. He takes her elbow then, and she angrily asks him what he means to do here, and he smiles at her and tells her to come with him, someplace private. She asks him what kind of a girl he thinks she is, and he replies that she’s the kind of girl who drinks too much champagne, then leads her away as she orders him to get his filthy hands off her. Ginger, still looking alarmed, watches them go.
Lilly finishes reading. “We were only young girls with the most vague idea of what catching a man’s eye could really mean.” Vera concludes that Spyczyk takes advantage of the girls at his boss’s party, and Lilly theorizes that maybe what he did to Violet had consequences. “And those consequences,” Vera concludes, “wound up at St. Mary’s Orphanage without a mother.”
Stillman’s office. Stillman picks up a file on Felix Spyczyk and says he was Bartleby’s driver; at least, that’s what he told the arresting officer in 1922. Lilly explains that he was picked up for illegal possession of liquor in 1922, and Vera adds the other offenses of visiting a bawdy house in 1928 and possession of opium in 1925. Lilly concludes that this isn’t the sort of guy you’d want around young girls at your party, and says it’d be great to ask the Bartlebys about it. Vera says that Kat and Scotty went to the mansion this morning, but didn’t get an answer, and Stillman adds that the family lawyer hasn’t returned any calls. Miller comes in just then, and Stillman says he heard about the Bartleby visit. Kat says she could have sworn she saw Muriel through the curtains. Vera comments that she must leave the house sometimes and suggests lying in wait while she gets the morning paper. Hee. The idea of any of these detectives staking out an old lady is hilarious for some reason. Miller then hands Lilly a phone message and informs her that her mom called a few times, wanting to make sure she had the address for the restaurant. Lilly looks a bit horrified as she takes the message from Kat and explains, reluctantly, that Ellen wants her to be her Maid of Honor. “Buttering you up with a free meal,” Vera remarks drily, and Lil guesses that if she goes, maybe her mom will stop calling.
Office. Jeffries informs a gentleman sitting at a large wooden desk that they’re investigating the murder of a girl seen at the Bartleby New Year’s Eve party in 1928, being manhandled by Felix Spyczyk. The guy smiles ruefully and says that his grandfather did many things during that period that he wasn’t proud of. These include his criminal record and whatever young girls he was seen manhandling. “He told you about that?” Jeffries responds with surprise, and Felix’s grandson explains that it was part of Felix’s job: he was a procurer. “For Bartleby,” Scotty realizes, and Felix’s grandson says that whatever the great man wanted, that’s what Felix had to get him. “Booze and girls,” Scotty concludes with a grin. Felix’s grandson goes on to say that Felix served Nick Bartleby for seven years, and then one day, Bartleby fired him; plucking a clock off the mantle and telling him to take it and hit the road. Jeffries comments that Felix made good, and the grandson says he sold the clock for $75 and started Spyczyk Shipping. He also says it took him years, but he tracked the clock down and bought it at an auction.
Conveniently enough, the clock in question happens to be sitting on a shelf in that very office! Scotty asks if Felix told him a lot about his days with Bartleby, and the grandson explains that at the end of his life, Felix wanted to tell his stories, so the grandson listened and made tapes of them. No. Way. He then gets up and heads over to a shelf as Jeffries asks if Felix mentioned the night he procured Violet Polley the night of the New Year’s party. The grandson has retrieved a briefcase and starts to open it, telling us that Violet was the one girl who said no to Nick Bartleby. Scotty watches with the same expression I have on my face: are we to believe that this guy just happens to have his grandfather’s tapes, along with a tape player, knows the exact tape he needs, and even has it cued up and everything? My, how deliciously convenient! Let’s listen, shall we? We hear Felix’s voice saying that her name was Violet Polley, a songwriter from Oley Valley, and a boozy floozy. Scotty realizes that this is their girl, and Felix goes on to say that Mr. Bartleby had told him to get the “singing dame,” so he did.
Private room at the Bartleby mansion. Felix hauls Violet in as she demands for him to let her out. Felix exclaims something in his consonant-intensive native language, and Nick tells Felix to let her out. Felix reminds Nick of his directive to bring this one, but Nick says not if she’s violently opposed to being in the same room with him, which she is. He gets up and turns on the charm. “Unless I’m growing on you and you’d like a drink,” he offers with a flirtatious smile. “No, thank you,” Violet says. Nick instructs Felix to bar the door until the lady answers one question: what on Earth was that song? He seems genuinely interested, and Violet informs him that “One Last Dress” is an original by Violet Polley. Okay, wait…then how’d the pianist know the…? Oh, never mind. My brain will hurt if I think too hard about this episode. “Oh, I know her,” Nick comments cockily. “She’s known to get a little soused at soirees and show her knickers to strangers.” Violet protests indignantly that she does not, and Nick laughs. “Well, darn it,” he replies. Heh. Violet stares at him for a moment, then asks him if he ever misses being part of the human race with the rest of them, or if he likes life up on his mountain. Nick says he doesn’t think he’s any better than the average Joe, if that’s what she’s implying. Violet just wonders if it gets old, waking up each morning with nothing to work for. Nick tells her that if he had a talent like hers, he would work, and she smiles and thanks him. “But,” he continues, “as God made me, I can only offer you charm, which does nothing for you.” Violet agrees that this is true. He goes on to say that he and his loyal driver Spyczyk, half as handsome but twice the man Nick is, can see her safely home in his Packard. Violet doesn’t think so, informing him that she’s a songwriter, not a boozy floozy. She leaves then, and Nick watches her go. Felix shuts the door and turns around with an amused grin, which he promptly wipes off his face as he sees his boss.
Jeffries realizes that Violet’s rejection of Nick Bartleby was a bold move, and the grandson tells us the punch line: Bartleby loved it. “The one girl who says no turns his head?” Scotty asks, and the grandson says Nick sent 300 flowers to the boardinghouse the next day, instructing Felix to lay them thick as Oriental carpet. Jeffries asks him how many of those tapes he’s got, and he says he has days’ worth. “How much would you like to know about Poland?” he asks, and it’s clear from the expression on Scotty’s face that his answer, anyway, is “not much.” He tells Felix’s grandson they’ll get back to him, and the detectives shake hands with him and head out.
In the hallway, Jeffries tells Scotty that “300 Flowers” is the name of an old blues standard, and the lyrics go like an Oriental carpet: thick and sweet. Scotty remembers that Violet was a songwriter and asks Jeffries where he heard that. Jeffries casually says that a singer he knows, Lena, covers it. Scotty stops walking and grins at Jeffries. “Lena, huh?” he asks. He then examines Jeffries from head to toe, saying he needs to get a look at the threads, then proclaims them all right. Jeffries asks Scotty suspiciously what he’s doing. “Just makin’ sure you look good enough to see the woman you talk about in your sleep; we’re goin’ to see her,” Scotty remarks cheerfully. Jeffries looks incredulously at Scotty. “Not we,” he argues. Hee.
Lena’s place. Jeffries eyes the sheet music to “300 Flowers,” realizes that it’s credited to V. Polley, and seems satisfied to note that she got a song published and put a few dollars in her pocket. Lena says that it’s a pretty upbeat song, but it is about a love triangle. “A woman choosin’ between two men,” Jeffries guesses, and Lena confirms it with a line of the song. “When I gave up what was ours, I met a man so kind.” Jeffries supposes Bartleby could be the kind one, and Lena agrees that leaving a woman 300 flowers is kind. Hey, Jeffries…are you paying attention? ‘Cause she just kinda gave you a major hint there. He smiles broadly, then suggests that Lena bring the song to life. She scoots over on the piano bench and begins to play and sing, and Jeffries watches her with a proud smile.
Boardinghouse. Violet’s voice superimposes over Lena’s to sing “300 Flowers” (an original song for this episode with music by Michael Levine and lyrics by Liz W. Garcia) as we see her surrounded by some of those aforementioned flowers. That really is rather a lot. A young man walks in then and, removing his hat, tells Violet that he came to take her back, but it seems she’s plumb forgotten what they made together. He looks around at the flowers and says that he hates to think of what she’s been doing to earn them. Violet protests that she’s been working on her songs, but he orders her to get her head on straight, that she’s acting bigger than she is. Violet insists that she won’t go home with him and tend to pigs all her life. Good call on that one. Pigs stink. The charmer tells her that that’s who she is, and he doesn’t want to tell her again. Ginger bursts in then and tells Violet she has three guesses to guess which gorgeous man is downstairs asking for Violet personally. She then notices Violet’s visitor and, looking like she’s realized she just put her foot in her mouth in a serious way, apologizes. The guy goes to the window and looks outside to see Felix standing beside a blue Packard. He and Felix glare at each other for a minute, and then he goes back inside and grabs Violet, demanding to know if she’s been acting loose. “Be careful,” a smooth voice warns from the doorway, “she kicks. I’ve seen it.” Glaring at Nick, the guy tells him Violet’s spoken for, calls him a cake-eater, and tells him to scram. Nick is undeterred and quietly says that she speaks for herself. Decision made, Violet orders her pig-farmer ex to tell people back in Oley Valley that they’ll hear about her, but they’ll never see her back there again. She then heads for Nick, telling him she’ll take a ride in the fancy car. “I’d like to see the world, please,” she says as she walks past. She takes one last look at Pig Farmer before leaving with Cake Eater.
Lena surmises from the lyrics that it sounds like Violet chose Bartleby. Jeffries recalls the first line about leaving behind what was ours, and asks Lena if she thinks that could mean a baby. She says it could be, explaining that songs from this era are coded when referring to something scandalous. Jeffries’ detective wheels are turning, concluding that hometown guy thought he was going to get a second chance with the mother of his baby and got thrown over for someone new. Lena says that a lot of sad songs are written about being thrown over. “Many lives ended over it, too,” Jeffries finishes.
