Post by cellogal on Jul 10, 2008 13:23:53 GMT -5
May 8, 1945
Flags wave, Lee Brown And His Orchestra’s “Leap Frog“ plays, ticker tape falls, and a soldier kisses a nurse in the street. Looks like we’re celebrating V-E Day! The celebration continues as a paperboy approaches the Pick Up & Delivery station of the Philadelphia Sentinel, and as a stack of papers falls, my V-E Day theory is confirmed. Inside, the boy delivers messages and approaches the desk of a woman, who cheerfully remarks that if ol’ FDR had managed to squeeze out a couple more weeks, he’d have seen this war end. Another reporter is less enthusiastic, replying that his stint here is going to end if McDuff can’t make heads or tails out of his story. The woman, Lo, takes the story from the guy, Birdie, skims it, and gives him some advice to spruce up his story, namely, that he should use active verbs, as this is breaking news, not his grandma’s knitting circle. A man strides purposefully from his office. Presumably, he’s the famous McDuff, because Lo tells Birdie that she sees him, and she’s almost done. The editor shouts Birdie’s name, and Lo hastily gives him back his story, then announces that the boys are coming home. Birdie agrees, and McDuff tells him that Philadelphia needs to read about her war heroes. “Features,” Birdie concludes. “Fast as you can write ‘em,” McDuff replies, and Birdie announces that the first one’s on its way. He comments drily that if it’s as good as his last few, they’ll need to save room above the fold. Heh. “What about me, Mr. McDuff?” Lo asks cheerfully. McDuff thinks for a minute, then hits on the perfect solution: crumb cakes! Lo is less than thrilled, but McDuff says he wants to know what kind of “Victory Vittles” the ladies are cooking up for the soldiers’ return. A perky blonde triumphantly announces one particular victory vittle: red, white, and blue Jell-O Gelatin! As Lo looks on witheringly, the blonde proclaims it a story gals’ll go dizzy for. McDuff says he likes her spirit, then asks Lo if she thinks she can write that. Lo can, and goes on to suggest that she write about this United Nations idea, explaining excitedly that Mrs. R. thinks it might put an end to these big wars, but McDuff patronizingly calls her “Sugar” and tells her she hardly has enough time as it is; she knows the rules, then yells that it’s six o’clock: ladies out. Lo casts an exasperated glance in Birdie’s direction and prepares to leave.
At the train tracks, police officers canvas the scene. We see Lo’s dead body lying on the tracks, her face bloodied and her hand still clutching the handle of her purse, before a sheet is draped over her remains, which are then carried off to a waiting ambulance.
At PPD, Lo Kinney’s file is placed in a box on the shelf.
Present Day
PPD, lobby. Lilly approaches Stillman and asks if it’s true that Jeffries got demoted. “Disciplined,” Stillman corrects, explaining that the bosses put him on desk duty for an undetermined amount of time. Lilly concludes that this will make him nuts, and Stillman says it doesn’t help that Jeffries’ birthday is this week. Oh, man. That sucks. “Oh, right,” Lilly comments, “double whammy.” Stillman instructs her not to say a word about it, citing Jeffries’ orders for no cake and no presents, and Lilly assents. They’re approached by a guy in a suit who says he’s been looking for them, then comments on Jeffries’ right hook. Lilly argues that, off the record, the guy had it coming. She’s right, he totally did. Stillman asks the guy, Tommy, about the rumor that his paper’s going out of business, and Tommy shrugs, guessing that everybody’s getting their news online these days, then admits that he’s still terrified of e-mail. Lilly concludes that the newsroom’s clearing out, and Tommy says it’s like a tomb. He then says he was going through the archives before they trash everything, and found something that might interest our detectives. Stillman, intrigued, asks what that is, and Tommy asks if they know about the Sentinel’s ghost, Lo Kinney. Stillman says he’s heard tell. “An old time reporter that got killed, right?” Lilly asks, and Tommy nods, saying that while most lady reporters were writing about casseroles, Lo was traveling the world with Eleanor Roosevelt. Okay, Eleanor Roosevelt definitely trumps casseroles in my book. Lilly comments that Lo was a gal ahead of her time, and Tommy continues, saying that her death is on the books as a purse snatching gone bad, but lore is it was more than that. Stillman asks if anything in the archives backs that up, and Tommy says they found a note in her old files dated the day she died, saying “Lawndale Station, 10:00 PM. This will not stand.” Stillman asks if Lawndale Station is significant, and Tommy tells them that it’s where she was killed; hit by the 10:00 PM train. Well, that’s pretty significant, all right.
Credits.
Scotty greets Jeffries with a cheerful, “Hey, it’s the Birthday Boy!” “Just stepped right in it, didn’t you?” Jeffries comments grouchily. Scotty tells him that it’s a bummer about desk duty, but he’s got something to take his mind off it: he hooked him up. Hooked him up for what, exactly, is my question, and Jeffries has the same one. Scotty proudly announces that he got Jeffries tickets for Lena’s show Wednesday night. Jeffries reminds Scotty of his orders to ignore his birthday, and Scotty says he read between the lines. I’ll say.
Lilly greets them with a cheerful good morning, and Jeffries asks what they’ve got. Stillman points to a newspaper article, announcing the death of a local “agony aunt,” explaining that Lo Kinney was hit by a train at Lawndale Station in 1945. “Agony aunt,” Scotty comments, and Stillman explains that that’s what they used to call advice columnists. Lilly adds that Lo was the Dear Abby of the Sentinel. Jeffries comments that her purse strap was found with the body, but no purse. Stillman says it looked like a robbery, she resisted, and it turned violent, but Lilly points to the note, saying that it suggests Lo was meeting someone there. Jeffries reads the note aloud, and Stillman theorizes that someone was threatening her, she went to meet him. Scotty picks it up, thinking things got heated and she got pitched under a train. Jeffries concludes that it makes the author of the note the doer. Lilly says there are three more boxes of her files at the Sentinel and volunteers to start digging, and Scotty says he’ll visit the last to see: fellow reporter Davis Birdsoll. “I’ll be at my desk,” Jeffries gripes, and heads in that direction. Scotty and Stillman exchange amused glances. Heh.
Birdie’s house. He remembers Lo as a cracker jack news gal, saying she was their girl on the scene during the FDR years. Vera says he thought she was a gossip columnist. “Advice,” Scotty corrects him. Birdie says the advice column came later, then explains that Eleanor Roosevelt championed lady reporters, but when FDR died, gals got sent back to the minors. Scotty concludes that Lo was demoted to being an Agony Aunt, and Birdie agrees. “Ten cent reporter in a five cent job.” Vera tells Birdie that they’re looking back into her death, thinking it wasn’t just a purse snatching, and Scotty adds that they think she might have been meeting someone at the station that night, then asks Birdie if he has any ideas who. Birdie says ladies were kicked out of the newsroom at 6:00, and he had no idea what Lo did with her evenings. “She didn’t have a guy?” Vera asks, and Birdie explains that a firecracker like Lo wasn’t dating material in the ‘40s. Scotty asks if she had any enemies at the Sentinel, someone who hated her enough to shove her onto the tracks, and Birdie says they kinda knew it would all end in tears with Lo: it was just too dangerous to stick a wild bird like her in the hen house.
Newsroom, where we hear “Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive” by Johnny Mercer. Lo’s typing, then suddenly rips the page out of the typewriter, wads it into a ball, and tosses it into the trash can, pre-empting with a glare whatever comment Perky Blonde is about to make. Birdie comes up and asks them if there’s any breaking news in the hen house, and Lo sarcastically reads him a letter from “In A Pickle” asking her if a polka-dot frock or a floral dress will turn her jack’s head. He uncrumples the paper Lo just ripped from her typewriter, which contains her response. “Dear In A Pickle: if you want to really turn his head, say boo to the frock and show him your birthday suit.” This is a simply awesome response, and Birdie laughs, but Perky Blonde is outraged, arguing that that was a serious question. Lo disagrees, saying that what Truman’s going to do about the Japanese is serious. Perky Blonde protests that women don’t want to be bothered with war talk. “’Cause meat pies and nylons are so much more interesting,” Lo replies sarcastically. Hee. I really like her. The paperboy from earlier then approaches Perky Blonde, asking her if she’s got that newlywed survey going to a Mrs. Boddy on Spruce. Perky Blonde hands it to him, then snarks that Lo giving romantic advice is kind of a laugh. Lo, who’s been helping Birdie with another story, asks her why that is, and Perky Blonde asks what Lo would know about it, since she’s a childless old maid. Lo orders Perky Blonde, whose real name is Helen, to take a powder. Helen urgently reminds Lo that women all over the city live by the advice in Dear Lo, and Lo says that they shouldn’t, declaring the women’s page good for wrapping fish and nothing more. Helen is shocked and accuses Lo of blowing in, stealing her job, and acting like she’s got something better to do. “Your job?” Lo asks, and Helen insists that she should have gotten that job, since she knows what women care about. Lo says that as soon as McDuff gives her a real beat, the Dear Lo column is all Helen’s. They glare at each other for a minute, then Lo smiles and tells Birdie his article is all fixed up.
Birdie says that those two fought like alley cats, and Vera guesses that Helen “had some toys in the attic.” Birdie confirms this theory, saying that she had a few crack-ups over the years, and spent some time in mental hospitals. Scotty asks if Helen was loopy enough to try and hurt Lo, and Birdie points out that Helen did benefit from her dying. Vera asks how, and Birdie replies that, with Lo gone, Helen got the Dear Lo column, which she’s still writing. Hmmm indeed.
Squad room. Miller asks Helen if she took over the Dear Lo column, and Helen proudly says she changed “Dear Lo” to “Hey Helen,” and the rest is history. Hmmm. I like “Dear Lo” better. Lilly asks Helen about the few bumps she had along the way, mentioning specifically an altercation on a city bus, and Helen dismisses this as a misunderstanding. Miller brings up another “misunderstanding”: disrupting a wedding by locking the bride in the choir room and walking down aisle herself. “She wasn’t really right for him,” Helen replies. I’m really wondering if this is the sort of person that all of Philadelphia should be taking advice from, because my goodness, this is one disturbed chippie. Lilly’s expression tells me she’s thinking the same thing, and Miller is wondering if, during one of these “colorful periods,” Helen might have done something to Lo. “Like, shove her in front of a train?” Helen asks. “Like that, yeah,” Lilly replies. I’m beginning to think that shoving someone under a train is a bit too…ordinary…for someone with the…imagination…that Helen apparently has. Miller reminds Helen that they know she wanted that column pretty bad. Helen looks at the detectives and tells them that they’re lucky: they have no idea what it’s like with a ceiling above them blocking how far they can rise. Lilly surmises that there wasn’t much room for women at the paper, and Helen says there was hardly room for one, much less two. Lilly theorizes that, for Helen to succeed, Lo had to go. Helen admits to being a crazy old broad, but says that Lo was making enemies far more dangerous than Helen. “How’s that?” Kat asks, and Helen says Lo was offering some pretty progressive advice in her column. Lilly asks if that got her in trouble, and Helen confirms it, saying that the Hen House became a hornet’s nest after some of her ideas hit the street.
Newsroom. As Tommy Dorsey’s “Opus One” plays, Helen sits typing away when an irate-sounding man enters asking for Lo. “That’s me,” Lo says, and the guy demands to know where she gets off telling his wife to “beat Pete” if her dog-face came home from the war more interested in his buddies than his bride. Lo replies that she gave that advice to a girl who wrote in saying her husband stopped coming home nights, and when he did, he was stinkin’, that’s where. The guy asks Lo if a man can’t come home from the front and blow off a little steam with his buddies, and Lo says not if he’s got a family to think about. “Carousin’, blowin’ your service benefits, liquorin’ up?” she asks in disgust. She tells him that the 5220 Club is for layabouts, and it’s making his wife nutso with worry. The guy argues that Lo’s got no idea about his life and what he’s been through, and Lo retorts that she knows what his wife wrote. “And you think that’s worth throwin’ away what we got?” he demands. He then asks Lo the Million Dollar Question: Is she married? Lo says she hasn’t had time, and hasn’t missed it. The guy concludes that Lo doesn’t really know what she’s talking about, since she’s been left on the shelf past expiration herself. Helen, who’s been watching the goings-on with interest, sweetly points out that Lo is over thirty, and Lo orders Helen to shut her pie hole. Helen smiles and complies, her point clearly made. The guy continues, saying that Lo sure hasn’t been to war, and Lo tells him fiercely that wives and soldiers don’t have any lock on common sense. He glares at Lo and tells her he oughta put a crimp in her. I’m not sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good. Whatever it is, Lo tells him he’s not the first one to threaten it. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll be the last,” he says, then throws the paper on Lo’s desk and leaves. Helen smiles triumphantly.
Helen admits to enjoying it, especially that “left on the shelf” business. Lilly asks if Lo got a lot of angry visitors, and Helen says that Lo usually mouthed right back, but this one rattled her and seemed to scare her. Kat asks if there’s any chance Helen remembers his name, to save them trying to match that story to the sender. Lilly reminds Helen that Lo got a lot of letters, but Helen apologetically says that it’s the stories that stick, not the names. Uh-oh. Looks like our detectives get to spend their evening reading advice columns from the 1940s! This should be fun.
Squad room. Our detectives are doing exactly that. Miller’s reading a letter aloud. “Dear Lo: My husband says frosted foods are for single gals and stumblebums. Who’s right? Signed, A Busy Bee.” Scotty guesses that makes him a stumblebum. “Single gal,” Kat agrees, with a raise of her hand. Hee. Jeffries is reading a handful of letters, but he’s pacing as he’s doing it, and Scotty tells Jeffries he’s making him nervous, and suggests that Jeffries sits down. “’Cause my ass has been planted all day,” Jeffries retorts. “Growin’ roots in that seat.” Heh. Miller, looking exasperated, gets up to find another box, thinking that maybe Box Number 3 is the lucky one, but Jeffries thinks he’s got it. He reads a letter from June 1, 1945. “My husband’s been home for three months, but something’s wrong. He’s out ‘till all hours, always soused, and doesn’t want word one with me.” Scotty and Kat look amazed, and slightly annoyed, that Jeffries has managed to find their missing letter. Miller says it sounds right, and asks who signed it. “Should I Scram?” is the reply from Jeffries. “That ain’t helpful,” Scotty remarks. Jeffries then tells them that the return address is on the envelope: Mrs. Arthur Pool, Gildar Street. Scotty says that Gildar is in Fox Chase, and Jeffries points out that the train station out there is Lawndale. Miller suggests that maybe Arthur lured Lo out to his local train stop. “Just in time to meet the ten p.m. express,” Scotty concludes.
Pool house. A man tells Scotty and Lilly that Arthur Pool was his father, and he just passed away. The presence of guys in yarmulkes and dark suits indicate that it was, indeed, quite recent. Well, if the Dead Guy Can’t Be The Doer algorithm is still in place, they’ve hit a brick wall. Lilly says she’s sorry, and Arthur’s son says they’re sitting shiva for him. Scotty presses on, saying they’re here about a homicide, and Arthur knew the victim. The son points out that Arthur obviously can’t help them, and Scotty and Lilly exchange a glance before Lilly continues, saying that her name was Lorena Kinney and that the younger Pool’s mom wrote to her for advice. Scotty adds that this ticked Arthur off pretty good, but the son insists that his dad did not kill Lo. “So you knew her,” Lilly realizes, and the son says he met her in this house. Lilly says they heard that Lo and Arthur went toe-to-toe in the newsroom, and the son says that she came to their house the next day, and that’s when she met Noah. Scotty asks who that is, and the son says it was his uncle. Scotty asks if Noah lived with them, and the son says it was lucky for him, since Noah was his real father figure. Lilly guesses that this was because Arthur came home from the war in rough shape, and the son agrees, saying that Noah taught him how to be a kid: shooting marbles, asking out a girl, how to drive. Lilly asks what Lo’s relationship with Noah was. “Love,” the son says with a smile, “at first sight.”
Pool house. Accompanied by Peggy Lee’s “I Don’t Know Enough About You,” Lo tells Arthur she’s there to apologize, saying a good reporter’s gotta hear both sides of the story, and asking him if he wants to tell it. Arthur says he loves his wife, but the things he’s done and seen in this war have to stay out of this house. Arthur’s son comes in then, proudly announcing that he and Uncle Noah saw “Pinocchio,” and got marbles. A great day in anyone’s book. Arthur tells his son, David, that that’s nice, then scolds him not to go interrupting the grownups. Noah, who fits the definition of tall, dark, and handsome to a tee, comes around the corner then, and he and Lo give each other The Eyes. Noah, who’s got a charming accent to boot, suggests that he and David play later, then says it’ll be their secret. Arthur introduces Noah to the already-smitten Lo, telling him that she’s the advice lady he was moaning about. Lo tells Noah it’s nice to meet him (understatement of her life, judging from the look in her eyes). “Likewise,” he says smoothly, then tells her he’s a big fan of her column. Seriously? Lo proclaims it bunk, but Noah argues that it’s true, recalling that, a month ago, a woman asked what type of curtains Lo uses, and Lo told her none, so she could see the sky. Lo’s impressed, telling Noah he’s got quite a memory, especially since she was shoveling it pretty hard, quite frankly. Noah tells Lo that she strikes him as the type of woman for whom the truth is everything. Lo smiles shyly, then surmises that Noah hasn’t lived long in Philadelphia. Arthur explains that Noah’s from Holland, then tries, unsuccessfully, to pronounce the name of the town. Noah corrects him, then says that Lo doesn’t care to hear about him. Oh, she SO does. She quickly says as much, and, in response to Noah’s surprised glance, backtracks awkwardly, saying that that’s what she does: listen to people. Arthur says that it turns out that he and Noah are third cousins, and Noah made it out of Europe right when it was getting bad. Lo asks Noah how he swung that, and Noah says that, during the war, things were confusing. He escaped and made it to Switzerland, and Arthur adds that Noah got out of that camp: Auschwitz. “Is that right?” Lo asks, then tells Noah that she hears it was horrible. Noah agrees quietly, and Lo proclaims that a story people should hear. Noah smiles and suggests that he tell her other stories, and Lo suggests that he tell her all his stories. Arthur looks from one to the other, finally seeming to grasp that something is Going On, and Noah smiles and tells her smoothly that maybe he will.
Scotty concludes that Lo was Noah’s girl, and David says that “lady friend” was Noah’s term. “So much for Helen’s old maid theory,” Lilly says, with a touch of satisfaction in her voice, and Scotty asks if Noah is there now. David says he was, but this time of day, Noah’s home, painting up a storm.
Noah’s studio. Miller and Vera approach Noah, and Miller introduces them. Noah invites them in, saying he doesn’t get many visitors there, and I can’t help but notice that his accent seems to have completely disappeared. I don’t have time to ponder this, though, because Vera’s playing art critic, looking around at Noah’s paintings and proclaiming them dark stuff. Noah surmises that this is why he doesn’t get many visitors. Miller informs Noah that they’re here about Lorena Kinney, and Noah tells them that David said they were looking into her death. He asks them if they think it wasn’t an accident. “Maybe not,” Kat replies, and Noah shakes his head and says that’s awful. Vera says they heard Noah and Lo were an item. “From the moment we met,” Noah confirms with a smile, and Vera points out that there’s no mention of him in the police report from when she died. Noah says he didn’t come forward, and when Miller points out that that’s kind of strange, Noah explains that he was illegal, and wasn’t even supposed to exist. Vera surmises that he was worried that the cops would send him back, and Noah says they would have, but he had nothing left to go back to, as his family and friends were all dead. Miller tells Noah about the note they found in Lo’s file, and Vera asks Noah if he wrote it. Noah denies it, then says that Lo was his second chance after so much darkness. He came here to start over, and there she was: light. He continues, saying that when Lo died, that light went out for good. Miller asks Noah if he can think of anyone who could have written that to her, and Noah can think of one person.
Victory Park. Lo and Noah watch a couple games on the midway, and then she feeds him a bite of cotton candy. “Pretty good, isn’t it?” she asks, and Noah laughs and says it’s sweet. Lo says that the war’s almost over, and they’re starting to get sugar again. Noah looks around and says that it’s nice, seeing the sky, then explains that for a long time, he saw it only through barbed wire. Lo comments that it must have felt like the world was ending, and Noah says that it was ending. She asks him if he’ll ever go back to Holland. “Why would I?” he asks, and Lo suggests maybe his family or childhood home, but Noah says there’s nothing for him there, not even him. Lo ponders this, and Noah elaborates, saying that, whoever he thought he was, he left behind. Lo thinks she knows the feeling, and then senses Noah descending in to the dark place, because she reminds him firmly that he’s here now. Noah tells Lo about the trains to the prison camps and tells her that’s the last time he saw his mother and sisters, and he and his father got separated at the entrance to the camp; he never saw them again. Lo asks him how long he was there, and Noah says it was three years, then tells her that he lived because he could paint. The guards liked that, he says, and Lo asks him what they liked about it. Noah says he painted their portraits, then lays on the angst: for hours, he says, he’d look at the faces of the men who killed his family, painting them. Lo shakes her head sadly, and Noah repeats his original observation. “It’s nice to see the sky.” Lo smiles, then spies a photo booth and suggests that they take a picture. Noah’s a little reluctant, but Lo says it’s so they can remember today forever, then urges him to come with her. They sit in the booth, get caught off-guard by the camera three separate but equally awkward times, then look at each other shyly. Noah then tells Lo she’s hard to pin down. “What?” Lo asks, and Noah waxes poetic, telling her she’s like a wild bird, wanting to flit and fly. Lo protests that she’s just an everyday gal, but Noah disagrees and says that’s what’s good. They kiss then, and after they pull apart, Lo tells Noah that he’s good. They lean in to kiss again, but are rudely interrupted by Birdie throwing open the curtain to the booth and demands to know what’s going on. An incredulous Lo asks Birdie if he was following them, and Birdie accuses her of just throwing it all away. Lo insists that it’s not what he thinks, and Birdie angrily says, “The hell with you,” and storms off. Lo watches him leave, then apologizes and say she has to go to him. Noah starts to protest, but Lo says she has to go, then takes off.
Miller asks, in some disbelief, if Lo and Birdie had some history. Noah says that she always said they were just pals from work, and Vera says that’s what he told them, too. Miller tosses a withering glance to the world at large and says she doesn’t know any pals that act like that.
Interview room. Vera, pulling up a chair, reminds Birdie of his “a firecracker like Lo wasn’t dating material” theory, then asks what’s up with him following her to Victory Park and throwing a jealous fit when he found her with Noah. Birdie insists that it wasn’t what it seemed, and Vera says it seemed like Birdie was sick in love with her. Birdie argues that that’s not what he was after: he needed her help right then. “With?” Vera asks. Birdie hesitates for a minute, then admits that he had a story due, and Lo had been writing them for him. “Lo wrote your articles?” Vera asks, and Birdie says that she just edited him at first, but down the line, he’d go to her under pressure, since she could whip up a story in no time. Vera surmises that Birdie couldn’t, and Birdie says he was a five-cent reporter in a ten-cent job. “And Lo was covering for you,” Vera concludes. Birdie says he had a byline, but no stories, and Lo had a billion stories… “But no byline,” Vera finishes. Birdie explains that he’d promised McDuff a feature on a man who survived the worst in Europe and was rebuilding his life here. Vera realizes that this is the story on Noah, and Birdie says that the problem was that Lo was supposed to be reporting, not mooning around falling in love.
Newsroom, where “You Always Hurt The One You Love” by the Mills Brothers plays. Birdie’s working on…something…not a story, apparently, when Lo storms up and tells him he had no right acting the way he did. Birdie reminds Lo that she promised him a front page story this morning, and McDuff has been breathing down his neck all day. Lo protests that Birdie’s got a brain and ten fingers, and even if he only uses two of them to type, nothing’s stopping him from doing his own reporting. Birdie asks if she’s backing out of the story, and Lo hems and haws and finally says she needs more time. Birdie realizes that she needs more time because she’s falling for Noah, and Lo says she certainly is not. Uh-huh. Birdie doesn’t believe her, either, and tells her he hopes she knows what she’s getting herself into. Lo asks him what he means by that, and Birdie reminds her that she’s the one who says Noah’s story doesn’t add up; him escaping through Switzerland, for starters, and Lo argues that people got out however they could. Birdie reminds her that the Swiss borders were tight, especially for Jews, and also points out that Noah said all the prisoners in that camp got tattoos, and she was going to check if he had one. Lo admits that she never looked. “Why not?” Birdie asks. She doesn’t answer, and he disgustedly tells her that she’s too good a reporter for this. “Look who’s talkin’, Buster,” Lo retorts. Birdie quietly informs her that, back when she still cared about this story, she asked him to track down someone from Noah’s hometown, so he did: her name is Johanna Hoffman. McDuff comes out of his office yelling at Birdie that he wants that story on the double, and Birdie hands Lo a slip of paper with Johanna’s address, saying he wants the truth about Noah: the real truth, then tells Lo to ask Johanna. He then heads toward McDuff’s office, leaving Lo to stand there looking pensive.
Vera asks Birdie if Lo ever followed up with this woman, and Birdie tells him that she never said, but the kind of reporter she was, he can’t imagine she didn’t. “And then she was dead,” Vera concludes grimly.
Squad room. Scotty comes in, announcing that he’s tracked down their mystery woman, Johanna Hoffman. Lilly asks if Johanna’s still around, and Scotty says she lives up in New York, where she relocated in July 1945. Miller comments that this is about when Lo died, and Scotty says it’s not “about,” it’s “exactly:” Johanna closed her bank account July 17, and the paper trail in Philly goes cold after that. Jeffries surmises that Johanna disappears and Lo winds up dead the same day. Lilly says that Lo must have gone to find Johanna, and something went bad. “Looks like someone’s headin’ to New York,” Stillman concludes. Scotty says he has a big poker game at his brother’s that night, so he’s out, and Miller reminds them that it’s Wednesday: Veronica’s ballet class. “Don’t look at me, I’m planted,” Jeffries comments drily. Lilly guesses that leaves her, then says she’s on her way.
After she takes off, Stillman tells Jeffries that he’s covering those phones like a champ, but Jeffries isn’t mollified, arguing that he’s 61 years old and getting punished like a schoolboy, then says it may be time to go out. “Maybe,” Stillman agrees. Jeffries continues, saying there’s no reason to keep it up, with the crummy people who lie to you all day, and proclaims it a dog’s life. Stillman chimes in that most guys are out by 50. Jeffries says that he tried taking a vacation once; he drove ten hours to Myrtle Beach, with its beautiful golf course and shoreline, but he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he drove back. Stillman smiles in sympathy, saying that he can’t retire, or he’ll go nuts, since he doesn’t know how to not work. Jeffries says he used to think he did this job because he was good at it, but he keeps doing it. “I think it’s what we actually like doin’, Will,” Stillman says softly, “crummy people and all.” He then invites Jeffries into his office, but Jeffries says he’s gotta watch the phones. Stillman says he can hear the phones from the office, and Jeffries gets up and heads in. Stillman pulls a bottle of liquor from a desk drawer and pours a little into two coffee mugs. “Happy birthday, Will,” Stillman says, and they clink coffee cups and sip their drinks. Man, these guys need more scenes together. They’re just quietly , yet unbelievably, awesome.
Johanna’s apartment. Over tea, Lilly thanks Johanna for seeing her, and Johanna, who, I notice, still has her accent, guesses that for Lilly to come all the way from Philadelphia, it must be important. Lilly says it is: it’s about a murder in 1945. Johanna asks Lilly who was killed, and Lilly tells her it was a reporter named Lorena Kinney. “Lo Kinney was murdered?” Johanna asks in disbelief, and Lilly says Lo was pushed in front of a train the same night Johanna left Philly. Johanna says she never knew, and Lilly surmises that Johanna knew Lo. Johanna says she met Lo, once, and wishes she never had, because what Lo told her haunted her the rest of her life.
Johanna’s apartment, where she’s serving Lo tea. Lo says she’s writing a story about someone from Johanna’s hometown. Johanna asks who, and Lo tells her that it’s Noah Pool. Johanna remembers Noah, saying they lived on the same street since childhood. Lo smiles, and Johanna says that she and Noah’s sisters played every day, and Noah, too. She smiles and remembers how strong Noah was, but also gentle. Lo smiles, and agrees that he is very gentle. “Is?” Johanna asks, and Lo explains that she knows Noah, that he lives here in Philadelphia. Johanna proclaims this impossible, but Lo’s not listening, saying that Noah will be so pleased to know that someone from his hometown is here, and Johanna finally cuts through Lo’s love bubble and tells her that Noah is dead: he was killed in Auschwitz. Lo says Johanna must be mistaken, and Johanna says that Noah survived longer than the others, painting portraits, but when there were no more to paint… Lo fishes in her purse, saying she has a photo of him, then shows Johanna the pictures of her and Noah. Johanna looks traumatized, and says it’s not Noah. “Then who?” Lo asks. Johanna then drops the bombshell: it’s Anton, a guard. Oh, SNAP. Lo asks Johanna if she’s sure, and she nods. “He gave me this,” she says, then rolls up her sleeve and shows Lo her prison tattoo. Lo stares in disbelief.
Johanna shows Lilly the tattoo, then says she left Philadelphia that day, and since she knows Anton’s there, she’s never been back. Lilly concludes that Lo was in love with a Nazi. Again, oh, SNAP.
Interview room. As Lilly and Miller watch David from Observation , Scotty comes in and tells David to sit down, then informs him that they’re looking for his uncle. David says Noah must be in his studio, but no dice: Scotty says Noah cleared out. David asks where Noah would go, and Scotty says that’s what he needs to know. David’s silent, and then Scotty tells David that the man he thought was his uncle Noah was really someone else. “What do you mean?” David scoffs. Scotty explains that Noah’s real name is Anton Bikker, and he collaborated with the Germans. David angrily asks Scotty what he thinks he’s saying, and Scotty says he knows how David feels about his uncle, how “Noah” helped bring him up, but reminds him that people can lie; trick you, and be real good at it. Well, Scotty would know about that. David shakes his head, protesting that he’s known “Noah” his whole life. “He’s been lyin’ that long,” Scotty argues. “Now he’s runnin’, and we gotta find him.” David asks how this can be true, since “Noah” played with him, taught him things, took him to the movies. Scotty tells him that the real Noah died in the camp where Anton was a guard. He explains that they found a woman who knew them both. David, still grasping at straws, theorizes that, sixty years later, maybe she made a mistake, but Scotty can’t see making a mistake about that. He starts to explain that Johanna Hoffman told Lo the truth. “Johanna Hoffman?” David asks, and Scotty asks David if he knows the name. “From the last time I saw Lo,” David replies.
Newsroom. Lo’s typing away, and she’s typing so angrily that she’ll break her typewriter if she’s not careful. “Noah” and David approach, and “Noah” reminds her that she was supposed to meet them in the park. Lo plays dumb, saying she lost track of time, and hastily hides the paper she was typing. In her hurry, one piece of paper falls to the floor. David tells Lo that “Noah” said cotton candy was her favorite, and Lo, with fake brightness, says that it is. David then whips a cotton candy from behind his back and hands it to her. Awwww. She smiles and thanks him, then sets it down on her desk as David scampers down to the floor to play with marbles. “Noah” asks Lo what she’s working on that she’d forget them, and she says it was just her column. He guesses that it’s more questions about recipes, but she says not today. “Noah” finally asks Lo what’s wrong, and Lo says that this one’s hard. He asks her what it’s about, and she says that it’s about a woman who thought she was in love, but the man she fell for wasn’t who she thought he was. “Noah” replies that, if she loves him, maybe who he is is okay. Well, not when he’s a Nazi it’s not. Lo’s a bit more clever than I am, saying that this man is smart, and handsome, and kind, and for a while, she thought he hung the moon. “Did he hurt her?” “Noah” asks. “Not her,” Lo replies, and he asks what the problem is. Lo glares at him, and “Noah” insists that if there is love between two people, nothing else matters. Lo says the problem is things he’s done in the past. “How can she believe them, if, for her, he hangs the moon?” “Noah” asks. Poetic, but…he’s still scum. Lo doesn’t answer, and suddenly David finds the fallen piece of paper, which just happens to be the “This will not stand” note. The messenger boy approaches then, asking Lo if she has that letter. She says she does, then takes the paper from David’s hand and searches her desk for an envelope. “Goin’ to…Miss Johanna Hoffman, on Pine?” the messenger asks, and “Noah” realizes that the game is up. “Yes,” Lo replies, glaring at Noah. She gives the letter to the boy, and he takes off.
Lilly realizes that Lo didn’t receive that note, she wrote it to Johanna. “Sent it the day she died,” Miller adds. Lilly continues, saying Johanna had left for New York, so the letter came back. Scotty asks David if his uncle saw this letter, and David shakes his head and says no, but he told “Noah” what it said. Oh, snap. Scotty reminds David that Anton stood by while the real Noah was killed, and when Lo Kinney found out about his lies, he killed her, too. David admits that he always wondered why “Noah” stopped talking about her. Scotty asks again where Anton is, imploring David to tell them for Noah.
Airport. Anton’s getting out of a car, and Stillman jogs up, calling his name. Anton doesn’t turn around, but when Stillman repeats his full name, Anton stops. Lilly asks Anton where he’s going, and he turns around and asks them why they call him that. Stillman asks Anton where he can run now. Anton insists that his name is Noah Pool, but Lilly points out that Noah Pool is dead, but Anton tells them to talk to his nephew, David. Lilly says they did talk to David, and told him how Anton took his uncle’s name to hide what he did during the war. Anton insists that David wouldn’t believe that. “How do you think we found you?” Stillman asks. Lilly tells Anton that David was disgusted by him, just like Lo. Anton insists that Lo saw who he was, and loved him, but Lilly argues that when Lo knew the truth, she gave up on him. “She was confused,” Anton insists. “Heartbroken,” Lilly retorts, then adds that Lo was going to do the right thing. “Expose you,” Stillman continues. “This will not stand.” Anton says he is better than the worst thing he ever did, then says he has to be able to go on, to live. Um, I’d say he’s been doing that quite well for sixty years when a whole heck of a lot of people couldn’t. He starts to leave, but finds himself suddenly boxed in by cops. “That’s asking too much,” Stillman says. Anton protests that Lo knew him, that she should have been able to understand. “What you did,” Lilly replies, “no one can understand.” Anton says that if Lo would have let herself love him, it all would have been okay.
Lawndale Station. Lo’s waiting on the platform when Anton comes up behind her and asks her why she’s waiting for Johanna. Lo says she wanted to show Johanna a story she wrote. “A story…a story about what?” Anton asks. “A story about a Nazi who pretended to be a Jew,” Lo retorts bitterly. She then asks Anton if he knew that, when the camps were finally liberated, the soldiers pushed empty baby carriages out the front gate, five at a time. Anton interrupts, asking her why she’s telling him this, but Lo continues, saying that the people watching said that it took an hour for them to pass by. “And you believe this woman more than you believe me,” Anton realizes. Lo orders him to tell her his name. He tells her not to play games, but she repeats her order. He doesn’t tell her, and Lo says that Johanna saw the photo, the one they took together in the park. “How could you?” she asks tearfully. Anton insists that he’s not a monster, but Lo asks if he killed Noah Pool, or just watched him die. Anton says he watched Noah paint, hour upon hour, just the two of them. Noah would talk about his family in America, about his nephew, David, and how he wanted to meet them one day, and poetry, and music, and art, and in those hours, Anton says he saw that Noah was a man better than he. “Forgive me,” he says, but Lo argues that no one can forgive him. Anton grabs her and says that she can, because she loved him. “With you, I was free,” Anton says. As the train approaches, Lo tells him he’s wrong, but Anton reminds her of that day in the park, she understood. Lo insists she didn’t, and orders him to let her go. Anton argues that Lo knows him better than anyone. “Noah Pool is dead, and everything I know is a lie,” Lo cries, but Anton protests that how they feel about each other isn’t a lie. He says he loves her, and he knows she loves him. Lo insists that she loves Noah, they struggle, and as the train passes, Anton shoves her to the track. He’s left holding her purse.
As Jo Stafford’s “It Could Happen To You” starts up, Stillman arrests Anton, and Lilly leads them to the car. Back at PPD, a swarm of reporters awaits. Anton looks out the window of the backseat as photographers snap his picture, then Stillman helps him out of the car and escorts him through the hordes of media. Tommy, the reporter from the beginning, is in the crowd, and he and Stillman exchange a smile. Scotty and David are there, too, and Anton casts a glance in David’s direction, but David looks away. Johanna has also made the trip, and she looks on proudly as Anton walks past.
Inside, Jeffries is still planted at his desk, but he’s able to write “Closed” on Lo’s folder.
Vera and Miller have located a suitcase which, we soon see, contains Lo’s purse. They retrieve it, and pull out an article entitled “A War Criminal In Philly.”
This article is published, and Helen shows Birdie the paper. They smile at each other proudly, then Birdie picks up the paper and reads the article.
Outside PPD, Stillman and Anton have finally reached the front doors, and Lilly, walking behind them, turns around and sees Lo looking down from the balcony. Lo smiles at Lilly, then disappears, and Lilly turns and heads inside.
Flags wave, Lee Brown And His Orchestra’s “Leap Frog“ plays, ticker tape falls, and a soldier kisses a nurse in the street. Looks like we’re celebrating V-E Day! The celebration continues as a paperboy approaches the Pick Up & Delivery station of the Philadelphia Sentinel, and as a stack of papers falls, my V-E Day theory is confirmed. Inside, the boy delivers messages and approaches the desk of a woman, who cheerfully remarks that if ol’ FDR had managed to squeeze out a couple more weeks, he’d have seen this war end. Another reporter is less enthusiastic, replying that his stint here is going to end if McDuff can’t make heads or tails out of his story. The woman, Lo, takes the story from the guy, Birdie, skims it, and gives him some advice to spruce up his story, namely, that he should use active verbs, as this is breaking news, not his grandma’s knitting circle. A man strides purposefully from his office. Presumably, he’s the famous McDuff, because Lo tells Birdie that she sees him, and she’s almost done. The editor shouts Birdie’s name, and Lo hastily gives him back his story, then announces that the boys are coming home. Birdie agrees, and McDuff tells him that Philadelphia needs to read about her war heroes. “Features,” Birdie concludes. “Fast as you can write ‘em,” McDuff replies, and Birdie announces that the first one’s on its way. He comments drily that if it’s as good as his last few, they’ll need to save room above the fold. Heh. “What about me, Mr. McDuff?” Lo asks cheerfully. McDuff thinks for a minute, then hits on the perfect solution: crumb cakes! Lo is less than thrilled, but McDuff says he wants to know what kind of “Victory Vittles” the ladies are cooking up for the soldiers’ return. A perky blonde triumphantly announces one particular victory vittle: red, white, and blue Jell-O Gelatin! As Lo looks on witheringly, the blonde proclaims it a story gals’ll go dizzy for. McDuff says he likes her spirit, then asks Lo if she thinks she can write that. Lo can, and goes on to suggest that she write about this United Nations idea, explaining excitedly that Mrs. R. thinks it might put an end to these big wars, but McDuff patronizingly calls her “Sugar” and tells her she hardly has enough time as it is; she knows the rules, then yells that it’s six o’clock: ladies out. Lo casts an exasperated glance in Birdie’s direction and prepares to leave.
At the train tracks, police officers canvas the scene. We see Lo’s dead body lying on the tracks, her face bloodied and her hand still clutching the handle of her purse, before a sheet is draped over her remains, which are then carried off to a waiting ambulance.
At PPD, Lo Kinney’s file is placed in a box on the shelf.
Present Day
PPD, lobby. Lilly approaches Stillman and asks if it’s true that Jeffries got demoted. “Disciplined,” Stillman corrects, explaining that the bosses put him on desk duty for an undetermined amount of time. Lilly concludes that this will make him nuts, and Stillman says it doesn’t help that Jeffries’ birthday is this week. Oh, man. That sucks. “Oh, right,” Lilly comments, “double whammy.” Stillman instructs her not to say a word about it, citing Jeffries’ orders for no cake and no presents, and Lilly assents. They’re approached by a guy in a suit who says he’s been looking for them, then comments on Jeffries’ right hook. Lilly argues that, off the record, the guy had it coming. She’s right, he totally did. Stillman asks the guy, Tommy, about the rumor that his paper’s going out of business, and Tommy shrugs, guessing that everybody’s getting their news online these days, then admits that he’s still terrified of e-mail. Lilly concludes that the newsroom’s clearing out, and Tommy says it’s like a tomb. He then says he was going through the archives before they trash everything, and found something that might interest our detectives. Stillman, intrigued, asks what that is, and Tommy asks if they know about the Sentinel’s ghost, Lo Kinney. Stillman says he’s heard tell. “An old time reporter that got killed, right?” Lilly asks, and Tommy nods, saying that while most lady reporters were writing about casseroles, Lo was traveling the world with Eleanor Roosevelt. Okay, Eleanor Roosevelt definitely trumps casseroles in my book. Lilly comments that Lo was a gal ahead of her time, and Tommy continues, saying that her death is on the books as a purse snatching gone bad, but lore is it was more than that. Stillman asks if anything in the archives backs that up, and Tommy says they found a note in her old files dated the day she died, saying “Lawndale Station, 10:00 PM. This will not stand.” Stillman asks if Lawndale Station is significant, and Tommy tells them that it’s where she was killed; hit by the 10:00 PM train. Well, that’s pretty significant, all right.
Credits.
Scotty greets Jeffries with a cheerful, “Hey, it’s the Birthday Boy!” “Just stepped right in it, didn’t you?” Jeffries comments grouchily. Scotty tells him that it’s a bummer about desk duty, but he’s got something to take his mind off it: he hooked him up. Hooked him up for what, exactly, is my question, and Jeffries has the same one. Scotty proudly announces that he got Jeffries tickets for Lena’s show Wednesday night. Jeffries reminds Scotty of his orders to ignore his birthday, and Scotty says he read between the lines. I’ll say.
Lilly greets them with a cheerful good morning, and Jeffries asks what they’ve got. Stillman points to a newspaper article, announcing the death of a local “agony aunt,” explaining that Lo Kinney was hit by a train at Lawndale Station in 1945. “Agony aunt,” Scotty comments, and Stillman explains that that’s what they used to call advice columnists. Lilly adds that Lo was the Dear Abby of the Sentinel. Jeffries comments that her purse strap was found with the body, but no purse. Stillman says it looked like a robbery, she resisted, and it turned violent, but Lilly points to the note, saying that it suggests Lo was meeting someone there. Jeffries reads the note aloud, and Stillman theorizes that someone was threatening her, she went to meet him. Scotty picks it up, thinking things got heated and she got pitched under a train. Jeffries concludes that it makes the author of the note the doer. Lilly says there are three more boxes of her files at the Sentinel and volunteers to start digging, and Scotty says he’ll visit the last to see: fellow reporter Davis Birdsoll. “I’ll be at my desk,” Jeffries gripes, and heads in that direction. Scotty and Stillman exchange amused glances. Heh.
Birdie’s house. He remembers Lo as a cracker jack news gal, saying she was their girl on the scene during the FDR years. Vera says he thought she was a gossip columnist. “Advice,” Scotty corrects him. Birdie says the advice column came later, then explains that Eleanor Roosevelt championed lady reporters, but when FDR died, gals got sent back to the minors. Scotty concludes that Lo was demoted to being an Agony Aunt, and Birdie agrees. “Ten cent reporter in a five cent job.” Vera tells Birdie that they’re looking back into her death, thinking it wasn’t just a purse snatching, and Scotty adds that they think she might have been meeting someone at the station that night, then asks Birdie if he has any ideas who. Birdie says ladies were kicked out of the newsroom at 6:00, and he had no idea what Lo did with her evenings. “She didn’t have a guy?” Vera asks, and Birdie explains that a firecracker like Lo wasn’t dating material in the ‘40s. Scotty asks if she had any enemies at the Sentinel, someone who hated her enough to shove her onto the tracks, and Birdie says they kinda knew it would all end in tears with Lo: it was just too dangerous to stick a wild bird like her in the hen house.
Newsroom, where we hear “Ac-Cent-Tchu-Ate The Positive” by Johnny Mercer. Lo’s typing, then suddenly rips the page out of the typewriter, wads it into a ball, and tosses it into the trash can, pre-empting with a glare whatever comment Perky Blonde is about to make. Birdie comes up and asks them if there’s any breaking news in the hen house, and Lo sarcastically reads him a letter from “In A Pickle” asking her if a polka-dot frock or a floral dress will turn her jack’s head. He uncrumples the paper Lo just ripped from her typewriter, which contains her response. “Dear In A Pickle: if you want to really turn his head, say boo to the frock and show him your birthday suit.” This is a simply awesome response, and Birdie laughs, but Perky Blonde is outraged, arguing that that was a serious question. Lo disagrees, saying that what Truman’s going to do about the Japanese is serious. Perky Blonde protests that women don’t want to be bothered with war talk. “’Cause meat pies and nylons are so much more interesting,” Lo replies sarcastically. Hee. I really like her. The paperboy from earlier then approaches Perky Blonde, asking her if she’s got that newlywed survey going to a Mrs. Boddy on Spruce. Perky Blonde hands it to him, then snarks that Lo giving romantic advice is kind of a laugh. Lo, who’s been helping Birdie with another story, asks her why that is, and Perky Blonde asks what Lo would know about it, since she’s a childless old maid. Lo orders Perky Blonde, whose real name is Helen, to take a powder. Helen urgently reminds Lo that women all over the city live by the advice in Dear Lo, and Lo says that they shouldn’t, declaring the women’s page good for wrapping fish and nothing more. Helen is shocked and accuses Lo of blowing in, stealing her job, and acting like she’s got something better to do. “Your job?” Lo asks, and Helen insists that she should have gotten that job, since she knows what women care about. Lo says that as soon as McDuff gives her a real beat, the Dear Lo column is all Helen’s. They glare at each other for a minute, then Lo smiles and tells Birdie his article is all fixed up.
Birdie says that those two fought like alley cats, and Vera guesses that Helen “had some toys in the attic.” Birdie confirms this theory, saying that she had a few crack-ups over the years, and spent some time in mental hospitals. Scotty asks if Helen was loopy enough to try and hurt Lo, and Birdie points out that Helen did benefit from her dying. Vera asks how, and Birdie replies that, with Lo gone, Helen got the Dear Lo column, which she’s still writing. Hmmm indeed.
Squad room. Miller asks Helen if she took over the Dear Lo column, and Helen proudly says she changed “Dear Lo” to “Hey Helen,” and the rest is history. Hmmm. I like “Dear Lo” better. Lilly asks Helen about the few bumps she had along the way, mentioning specifically an altercation on a city bus, and Helen dismisses this as a misunderstanding. Miller brings up another “misunderstanding”: disrupting a wedding by locking the bride in the choir room and walking down aisle herself. “She wasn’t really right for him,” Helen replies. I’m really wondering if this is the sort of person that all of Philadelphia should be taking advice from, because my goodness, this is one disturbed chippie. Lilly’s expression tells me she’s thinking the same thing, and Miller is wondering if, during one of these “colorful periods,” Helen might have done something to Lo. “Like, shove her in front of a train?” Helen asks. “Like that, yeah,” Lilly replies. I’m beginning to think that shoving someone under a train is a bit too…ordinary…for someone with the…imagination…that Helen apparently has. Miller reminds Helen that they know she wanted that column pretty bad. Helen looks at the detectives and tells them that they’re lucky: they have no idea what it’s like with a ceiling above them blocking how far they can rise. Lilly surmises that there wasn’t much room for women at the paper, and Helen says there was hardly room for one, much less two. Lilly theorizes that, for Helen to succeed, Lo had to go. Helen admits to being a crazy old broad, but says that Lo was making enemies far more dangerous than Helen. “How’s that?” Kat asks, and Helen says Lo was offering some pretty progressive advice in her column. Lilly asks if that got her in trouble, and Helen confirms it, saying that the Hen House became a hornet’s nest after some of her ideas hit the street.
Newsroom. As Tommy Dorsey’s “Opus One” plays, Helen sits typing away when an irate-sounding man enters asking for Lo. “That’s me,” Lo says, and the guy demands to know where she gets off telling his wife to “beat Pete” if her dog-face came home from the war more interested in his buddies than his bride. Lo replies that she gave that advice to a girl who wrote in saying her husband stopped coming home nights, and when he did, he was stinkin’, that’s where. The guy asks Lo if a man can’t come home from the front and blow off a little steam with his buddies, and Lo says not if he’s got a family to think about. “Carousin’, blowin’ your service benefits, liquorin’ up?” she asks in disgust. She tells him that the 5220 Club is for layabouts, and it’s making his wife nutso with worry. The guy argues that Lo’s got no idea about his life and what he’s been through, and Lo retorts that she knows what his wife wrote. “And you think that’s worth throwin’ away what we got?” he demands. He then asks Lo the Million Dollar Question: Is she married? Lo says she hasn’t had time, and hasn’t missed it. The guy concludes that Lo doesn’t really know what she’s talking about, since she’s been left on the shelf past expiration herself. Helen, who’s been watching the goings-on with interest, sweetly points out that Lo is over thirty, and Lo orders Helen to shut her pie hole. Helen smiles and complies, her point clearly made. The guy continues, saying that Lo sure hasn’t been to war, and Lo tells him fiercely that wives and soldiers don’t have any lock on common sense. He glares at Lo and tells her he oughta put a crimp in her. I’m not sure what that means, but it doesn’t sound good. Whatever it is, Lo tells him he’s not the first one to threaten it. “Yeah, well, maybe I’ll be the last,” he says, then throws the paper on Lo’s desk and leaves. Helen smiles triumphantly.
Helen admits to enjoying it, especially that “left on the shelf” business. Lilly asks if Lo got a lot of angry visitors, and Helen says that Lo usually mouthed right back, but this one rattled her and seemed to scare her. Kat asks if there’s any chance Helen remembers his name, to save them trying to match that story to the sender. Lilly reminds Helen that Lo got a lot of letters, but Helen apologetically says that it’s the stories that stick, not the names. Uh-oh. Looks like our detectives get to spend their evening reading advice columns from the 1940s! This should be fun.
Squad room. Our detectives are doing exactly that. Miller’s reading a letter aloud. “Dear Lo: My husband says frosted foods are for single gals and stumblebums. Who’s right? Signed, A Busy Bee.” Scotty guesses that makes him a stumblebum. “Single gal,” Kat agrees, with a raise of her hand. Hee. Jeffries is reading a handful of letters, but he’s pacing as he’s doing it, and Scotty tells Jeffries he’s making him nervous, and suggests that Jeffries sits down. “’Cause my ass has been planted all day,” Jeffries retorts. “Growin’ roots in that seat.” Heh. Miller, looking exasperated, gets up to find another box, thinking that maybe Box Number 3 is the lucky one, but Jeffries thinks he’s got it. He reads a letter from June 1, 1945. “My husband’s been home for three months, but something’s wrong. He’s out ‘till all hours, always soused, and doesn’t want word one with me.” Scotty and Kat look amazed, and slightly annoyed, that Jeffries has managed to find their missing letter. Miller says it sounds right, and asks who signed it. “Should I Scram?” is the reply from Jeffries. “That ain’t helpful,” Scotty remarks. Jeffries then tells them that the return address is on the envelope: Mrs. Arthur Pool, Gildar Street. Scotty says that Gildar is in Fox Chase, and Jeffries points out that the train station out there is Lawndale. Miller suggests that maybe Arthur lured Lo out to his local train stop. “Just in time to meet the ten p.m. express,” Scotty concludes.
Pool house. A man tells Scotty and Lilly that Arthur Pool was his father, and he just passed away. The presence of guys in yarmulkes and dark suits indicate that it was, indeed, quite recent. Well, if the Dead Guy Can’t Be The Doer algorithm is still in place, they’ve hit a brick wall. Lilly says she’s sorry, and Arthur’s son says they’re sitting shiva for him. Scotty presses on, saying they’re here about a homicide, and Arthur knew the victim. The son points out that Arthur obviously can’t help them, and Scotty and Lilly exchange a glance before Lilly continues, saying that her name was Lorena Kinney and that the younger Pool’s mom wrote to her for advice. Scotty adds that this ticked Arthur off pretty good, but the son insists that his dad did not kill Lo. “So you knew her,” Lilly realizes, and the son says he met her in this house. Lilly says they heard that Lo and Arthur went toe-to-toe in the newsroom, and the son says that she came to their house the next day, and that’s when she met Noah. Scotty asks who that is, and the son says it was his uncle. Scotty asks if Noah lived with them, and the son says it was lucky for him, since Noah was his real father figure. Lilly guesses that this was because Arthur came home from the war in rough shape, and the son agrees, saying that Noah taught him how to be a kid: shooting marbles, asking out a girl, how to drive. Lilly asks what Lo’s relationship with Noah was. “Love,” the son says with a smile, “at first sight.”
Pool house. Accompanied by Peggy Lee’s “I Don’t Know Enough About You,” Lo tells Arthur she’s there to apologize, saying a good reporter’s gotta hear both sides of the story, and asking him if he wants to tell it. Arthur says he loves his wife, but the things he’s done and seen in this war have to stay out of this house. Arthur’s son comes in then, proudly announcing that he and Uncle Noah saw “Pinocchio,” and got marbles. A great day in anyone’s book. Arthur tells his son, David, that that’s nice, then scolds him not to go interrupting the grownups. Noah, who fits the definition of tall, dark, and handsome to a tee, comes around the corner then, and he and Lo give each other The Eyes. Noah, who’s got a charming accent to boot, suggests that he and David play later, then says it’ll be their secret. Arthur introduces Noah to the already-smitten Lo, telling him that she’s the advice lady he was moaning about. Lo tells Noah it’s nice to meet him (understatement of her life, judging from the look in her eyes). “Likewise,” he says smoothly, then tells her he’s a big fan of her column. Seriously? Lo proclaims it bunk, but Noah argues that it’s true, recalling that, a month ago, a woman asked what type of curtains Lo uses, and Lo told her none, so she could see the sky. Lo’s impressed, telling Noah he’s got quite a memory, especially since she was shoveling it pretty hard, quite frankly. Noah tells Lo that she strikes him as the type of woman for whom the truth is everything. Lo smiles shyly, then surmises that Noah hasn’t lived long in Philadelphia. Arthur explains that Noah’s from Holland, then tries, unsuccessfully, to pronounce the name of the town. Noah corrects him, then says that Lo doesn’t care to hear about him. Oh, she SO does. She quickly says as much, and, in response to Noah’s surprised glance, backtracks awkwardly, saying that that’s what she does: listen to people. Arthur says that it turns out that he and Noah are third cousins, and Noah made it out of Europe right when it was getting bad. Lo asks Noah how he swung that, and Noah says that, during the war, things were confusing. He escaped and made it to Switzerland, and Arthur adds that Noah got out of that camp: Auschwitz. “Is that right?” Lo asks, then tells Noah that she hears it was horrible. Noah agrees quietly, and Lo proclaims that a story people should hear. Noah smiles and suggests that he tell her other stories, and Lo suggests that he tell her all his stories. Arthur looks from one to the other, finally seeming to grasp that something is Going On, and Noah smiles and tells her smoothly that maybe he will.
Scotty concludes that Lo was Noah’s girl, and David says that “lady friend” was Noah’s term. “So much for Helen’s old maid theory,” Lilly says, with a touch of satisfaction in her voice, and Scotty asks if Noah is there now. David says he was, but this time of day, Noah’s home, painting up a storm.
Noah’s studio. Miller and Vera approach Noah, and Miller introduces them. Noah invites them in, saying he doesn’t get many visitors there, and I can’t help but notice that his accent seems to have completely disappeared. I don’t have time to ponder this, though, because Vera’s playing art critic, looking around at Noah’s paintings and proclaiming them dark stuff. Noah surmises that this is why he doesn’t get many visitors. Miller informs Noah that they’re here about Lorena Kinney, and Noah tells them that David said they were looking into her death. He asks them if they think it wasn’t an accident. “Maybe not,” Kat replies, and Noah shakes his head and says that’s awful. Vera says they heard Noah and Lo were an item. “From the moment we met,” Noah confirms with a smile, and Vera points out that there’s no mention of him in the police report from when she died. Noah says he didn’t come forward, and when Miller points out that that’s kind of strange, Noah explains that he was illegal, and wasn’t even supposed to exist. Vera surmises that he was worried that the cops would send him back, and Noah says they would have, but he had nothing left to go back to, as his family and friends were all dead. Miller tells Noah about the note they found in Lo’s file, and Vera asks Noah if he wrote it. Noah denies it, then says that Lo was his second chance after so much darkness. He came here to start over, and there she was: light. He continues, saying that when Lo died, that light went out for good. Miller asks Noah if he can think of anyone who could have written that to her, and Noah can think of one person.
Victory Park. Lo and Noah watch a couple games on the midway, and then she feeds him a bite of cotton candy. “Pretty good, isn’t it?” she asks, and Noah laughs and says it’s sweet. Lo says that the war’s almost over, and they’re starting to get sugar again. Noah looks around and says that it’s nice, seeing the sky, then explains that for a long time, he saw it only through barbed wire. Lo comments that it must have felt like the world was ending, and Noah says that it was ending. She asks him if he’ll ever go back to Holland. “Why would I?” he asks, and Lo suggests maybe his family or childhood home, but Noah says there’s nothing for him there, not even him. Lo ponders this, and Noah elaborates, saying that, whoever he thought he was, he left behind. Lo thinks she knows the feeling, and then senses Noah descending in to the dark place, because she reminds him firmly that he’s here now. Noah tells Lo about the trains to the prison camps and tells her that’s the last time he saw his mother and sisters, and he and his father got separated at the entrance to the camp; he never saw them again. Lo asks him how long he was there, and Noah says it was three years, then tells her that he lived because he could paint. The guards liked that, he says, and Lo asks him what they liked about it. Noah says he painted their portraits, then lays on the angst: for hours, he says, he’d look at the faces of the men who killed his family, painting them. Lo shakes her head sadly, and Noah repeats his original observation. “It’s nice to see the sky.” Lo smiles, then spies a photo booth and suggests that they take a picture. Noah’s a little reluctant, but Lo says it’s so they can remember today forever, then urges him to come with her. They sit in the booth, get caught off-guard by the camera three separate but equally awkward times, then look at each other shyly. Noah then tells Lo she’s hard to pin down. “What?” Lo asks, and Noah waxes poetic, telling her she’s like a wild bird, wanting to flit and fly. Lo protests that she’s just an everyday gal, but Noah disagrees and says that’s what’s good. They kiss then, and after they pull apart, Lo tells Noah that he’s good. They lean in to kiss again, but are rudely interrupted by Birdie throwing open the curtain to the booth and demands to know what’s going on. An incredulous Lo asks Birdie if he was following them, and Birdie accuses her of just throwing it all away. Lo insists that it’s not what he thinks, and Birdie angrily says, “The hell with you,” and storms off. Lo watches him leave, then apologizes and say she has to go to him. Noah starts to protest, but Lo says she has to go, then takes off.
Miller asks, in some disbelief, if Lo and Birdie had some history. Noah says that she always said they were just pals from work, and Vera says that’s what he told them, too. Miller tosses a withering glance to the world at large and says she doesn’t know any pals that act like that.
Interview room. Vera, pulling up a chair, reminds Birdie of his “a firecracker like Lo wasn’t dating material” theory, then asks what’s up with him following her to Victory Park and throwing a jealous fit when he found her with Noah. Birdie insists that it wasn’t what it seemed, and Vera says it seemed like Birdie was sick in love with her. Birdie argues that that’s not what he was after: he needed her help right then. “With?” Vera asks. Birdie hesitates for a minute, then admits that he had a story due, and Lo had been writing them for him. “Lo wrote your articles?” Vera asks, and Birdie says that she just edited him at first, but down the line, he’d go to her under pressure, since she could whip up a story in no time. Vera surmises that Birdie couldn’t, and Birdie says he was a five-cent reporter in a ten-cent job. “And Lo was covering for you,” Vera concludes. Birdie says he had a byline, but no stories, and Lo had a billion stories… “But no byline,” Vera finishes. Birdie explains that he’d promised McDuff a feature on a man who survived the worst in Europe and was rebuilding his life here. Vera realizes that this is the story on Noah, and Birdie says that the problem was that Lo was supposed to be reporting, not mooning around falling in love.
Newsroom, where “You Always Hurt The One You Love” by the Mills Brothers plays. Birdie’s working on…something…not a story, apparently, when Lo storms up and tells him he had no right acting the way he did. Birdie reminds Lo that she promised him a front page story this morning, and McDuff has been breathing down his neck all day. Lo protests that Birdie’s got a brain and ten fingers, and even if he only uses two of them to type, nothing’s stopping him from doing his own reporting. Birdie asks if she’s backing out of the story, and Lo hems and haws and finally says she needs more time. Birdie realizes that she needs more time because she’s falling for Noah, and Lo says she certainly is not. Uh-huh. Birdie doesn’t believe her, either, and tells her he hopes she knows what she’s getting herself into. Lo asks him what he means by that, and Birdie reminds her that she’s the one who says Noah’s story doesn’t add up; him escaping through Switzerland, for starters, and Lo argues that people got out however they could. Birdie reminds her that the Swiss borders were tight, especially for Jews, and also points out that Noah said all the prisoners in that camp got tattoos, and she was going to check if he had one. Lo admits that she never looked. “Why not?” Birdie asks. She doesn’t answer, and he disgustedly tells her that she’s too good a reporter for this. “Look who’s talkin’, Buster,” Lo retorts. Birdie quietly informs her that, back when she still cared about this story, she asked him to track down someone from Noah’s hometown, so he did: her name is Johanna Hoffman. McDuff comes out of his office yelling at Birdie that he wants that story on the double, and Birdie hands Lo a slip of paper with Johanna’s address, saying he wants the truth about Noah: the real truth, then tells Lo to ask Johanna. He then heads toward McDuff’s office, leaving Lo to stand there looking pensive.
Vera asks Birdie if Lo ever followed up with this woman, and Birdie tells him that she never said, but the kind of reporter she was, he can’t imagine she didn’t. “And then she was dead,” Vera concludes grimly.
Squad room. Scotty comes in, announcing that he’s tracked down their mystery woman, Johanna Hoffman. Lilly asks if Johanna’s still around, and Scotty says she lives up in New York, where she relocated in July 1945. Miller comments that this is about when Lo died, and Scotty says it’s not “about,” it’s “exactly:” Johanna closed her bank account July 17, and the paper trail in Philly goes cold after that. Jeffries surmises that Johanna disappears and Lo winds up dead the same day. Lilly says that Lo must have gone to find Johanna, and something went bad. “Looks like someone’s headin’ to New York,” Stillman concludes. Scotty says he has a big poker game at his brother’s that night, so he’s out, and Miller reminds them that it’s Wednesday: Veronica’s ballet class. “Don’t look at me, I’m planted,” Jeffries comments drily. Lilly guesses that leaves her, then says she’s on her way.
After she takes off, Stillman tells Jeffries that he’s covering those phones like a champ, but Jeffries isn’t mollified, arguing that he’s 61 years old and getting punished like a schoolboy, then says it may be time to go out. “Maybe,” Stillman agrees. Jeffries continues, saying there’s no reason to keep it up, with the crummy people who lie to you all day, and proclaims it a dog’s life. Stillman chimes in that most guys are out by 50. Jeffries says that he tried taking a vacation once; he drove ten hours to Myrtle Beach, with its beautiful golf course and shoreline, but he didn’t know what to do with himself, so he drove back. Stillman smiles in sympathy, saying that he can’t retire, or he’ll go nuts, since he doesn’t know how to not work. Jeffries says he used to think he did this job because he was good at it, but he keeps doing it. “I think it’s what we actually like doin’, Will,” Stillman says softly, “crummy people and all.” He then invites Jeffries into his office, but Jeffries says he’s gotta watch the phones. Stillman says he can hear the phones from the office, and Jeffries gets up and heads in. Stillman pulls a bottle of liquor from a desk drawer and pours a little into two coffee mugs. “Happy birthday, Will,” Stillman says, and they clink coffee cups and sip their drinks. Man, these guys need more scenes together. They’re just quietly , yet unbelievably, awesome.
Johanna’s apartment. Over tea, Lilly thanks Johanna for seeing her, and Johanna, who, I notice, still has her accent, guesses that for Lilly to come all the way from Philadelphia, it must be important. Lilly says it is: it’s about a murder in 1945. Johanna asks Lilly who was killed, and Lilly tells her it was a reporter named Lorena Kinney. “Lo Kinney was murdered?” Johanna asks in disbelief, and Lilly says Lo was pushed in front of a train the same night Johanna left Philly. Johanna says she never knew, and Lilly surmises that Johanna knew Lo. Johanna says she met Lo, once, and wishes she never had, because what Lo told her haunted her the rest of her life.
Johanna’s apartment, where she’s serving Lo tea. Lo says she’s writing a story about someone from Johanna’s hometown. Johanna asks who, and Lo tells her that it’s Noah Pool. Johanna remembers Noah, saying they lived on the same street since childhood. Lo smiles, and Johanna says that she and Noah’s sisters played every day, and Noah, too. She smiles and remembers how strong Noah was, but also gentle. Lo smiles, and agrees that he is very gentle. “Is?” Johanna asks, and Lo explains that she knows Noah, that he lives here in Philadelphia. Johanna proclaims this impossible, but Lo’s not listening, saying that Noah will be so pleased to know that someone from his hometown is here, and Johanna finally cuts through Lo’s love bubble and tells her that Noah is dead: he was killed in Auschwitz. Lo says Johanna must be mistaken, and Johanna says that Noah survived longer than the others, painting portraits, but when there were no more to paint… Lo fishes in her purse, saying she has a photo of him, then shows Johanna the pictures of her and Noah. Johanna looks traumatized, and says it’s not Noah. “Then who?” Lo asks. Johanna then drops the bombshell: it’s Anton, a guard. Oh, SNAP. Lo asks Johanna if she’s sure, and she nods. “He gave me this,” she says, then rolls up her sleeve and shows Lo her prison tattoo. Lo stares in disbelief.
Johanna shows Lilly the tattoo, then says she left Philadelphia that day, and since she knows Anton’s there, she’s never been back. Lilly concludes that Lo was in love with a Nazi. Again, oh, SNAP.
Interview room. As Lilly and Miller watch David from Observation , Scotty comes in and tells David to sit down, then informs him that they’re looking for his uncle. David says Noah must be in his studio, but no dice: Scotty says Noah cleared out. David asks where Noah would go, and Scotty says that’s what he needs to know. David’s silent, and then Scotty tells David that the man he thought was his uncle Noah was really someone else. “What do you mean?” David scoffs. Scotty explains that Noah’s real name is Anton Bikker, and he collaborated with the Germans. David angrily asks Scotty what he thinks he’s saying, and Scotty says he knows how David feels about his uncle, how “Noah” helped bring him up, but reminds him that people can lie; trick you, and be real good at it. Well, Scotty would know about that. David shakes his head, protesting that he’s known “Noah” his whole life. “He’s been lyin’ that long,” Scotty argues. “Now he’s runnin’, and we gotta find him.” David asks how this can be true, since “Noah” played with him, taught him things, took him to the movies. Scotty tells him that the real Noah died in the camp where Anton was a guard. He explains that they found a woman who knew them both. David, still grasping at straws, theorizes that, sixty years later, maybe she made a mistake, but Scotty can’t see making a mistake about that. He starts to explain that Johanna Hoffman told Lo the truth. “Johanna Hoffman?” David asks, and Scotty asks David if he knows the name. “From the last time I saw Lo,” David replies.
Newsroom. Lo’s typing away, and she’s typing so angrily that she’ll break her typewriter if she’s not careful. “Noah” and David approach, and “Noah” reminds her that she was supposed to meet them in the park. Lo plays dumb, saying she lost track of time, and hastily hides the paper she was typing. In her hurry, one piece of paper falls to the floor. David tells Lo that “Noah” said cotton candy was her favorite, and Lo, with fake brightness, says that it is. David then whips a cotton candy from behind his back and hands it to her. Awwww. She smiles and thanks him, then sets it down on her desk as David scampers down to the floor to play with marbles. “Noah” asks Lo what she’s working on that she’d forget them, and she says it was just her column. He guesses that it’s more questions about recipes, but she says not today. “Noah” finally asks Lo what’s wrong, and Lo says that this one’s hard. He asks her what it’s about, and she says that it’s about a woman who thought she was in love, but the man she fell for wasn’t who she thought he was. “Noah” replies that, if she loves him, maybe who he is is okay. Well, not when he’s a Nazi it’s not. Lo’s a bit more clever than I am, saying that this man is smart, and handsome, and kind, and for a while, she thought he hung the moon. “Did he hurt her?” “Noah” asks. “Not her,” Lo replies, and he asks what the problem is. Lo glares at him, and “Noah” insists that if there is love between two people, nothing else matters. Lo says the problem is things he’s done in the past. “How can she believe them, if, for her, he hangs the moon?” “Noah” asks. Poetic, but…he’s still scum. Lo doesn’t answer, and suddenly David finds the fallen piece of paper, which just happens to be the “This will not stand” note. The messenger boy approaches then, asking Lo if she has that letter. She says she does, then takes the paper from David’s hand and searches her desk for an envelope. “Goin’ to…Miss Johanna Hoffman, on Pine?” the messenger asks, and “Noah” realizes that the game is up. “Yes,” Lo replies, glaring at Noah. She gives the letter to the boy, and he takes off.
Lilly realizes that Lo didn’t receive that note, she wrote it to Johanna. “Sent it the day she died,” Miller adds. Lilly continues, saying Johanna had left for New York, so the letter came back. Scotty asks David if his uncle saw this letter, and David shakes his head and says no, but he told “Noah” what it said. Oh, snap. Scotty reminds David that Anton stood by while the real Noah was killed, and when Lo Kinney found out about his lies, he killed her, too. David admits that he always wondered why “Noah” stopped talking about her. Scotty asks again where Anton is, imploring David to tell them for Noah.
Airport. Anton’s getting out of a car, and Stillman jogs up, calling his name. Anton doesn’t turn around, but when Stillman repeats his full name, Anton stops. Lilly asks Anton where he’s going, and he turns around and asks them why they call him that. Stillman asks Anton where he can run now. Anton insists that his name is Noah Pool, but Lilly points out that Noah Pool is dead, but Anton tells them to talk to his nephew, David. Lilly says they did talk to David, and told him how Anton took his uncle’s name to hide what he did during the war. Anton insists that David wouldn’t believe that. “How do you think we found you?” Stillman asks. Lilly tells Anton that David was disgusted by him, just like Lo. Anton insists that Lo saw who he was, and loved him, but Lilly argues that when Lo knew the truth, she gave up on him. “She was confused,” Anton insists. “Heartbroken,” Lilly retorts, then adds that Lo was going to do the right thing. “Expose you,” Stillman continues. “This will not stand.” Anton says he is better than the worst thing he ever did, then says he has to be able to go on, to live. Um, I’d say he’s been doing that quite well for sixty years when a whole heck of a lot of people couldn’t. He starts to leave, but finds himself suddenly boxed in by cops. “That’s asking too much,” Stillman says. Anton protests that Lo knew him, that she should have been able to understand. “What you did,” Lilly replies, “no one can understand.” Anton says that if Lo would have let herself love him, it all would have been okay.
Lawndale Station. Lo’s waiting on the platform when Anton comes up behind her and asks her why she’s waiting for Johanna. Lo says she wanted to show Johanna a story she wrote. “A story…a story about what?” Anton asks. “A story about a Nazi who pretended to be a Jew,” Lo retorts bitterly. She then asks Anton if he knew that, when the camps were finally liberated, the soldiers pushed empty baby carriages out the front gate, five at a time. Anton interrupts, asking her why she’s telling him this, but Lo continues, saying that the people watching said that it took an hour for them to pass by. “And you believe this woman more than you believe me,” Anton realizes. Lo orders him to tell her his name. He tells her not to play games, but she repeats her order. He doesn’t tell her, and Lo says that Johanna saw the photo, the one they took together in the park. “How could you?” she asks tearfully. Anton insists that he’s not a monster, but Lo asks if he killed Noah Pool, or just watched him die. Anton says he watched Noah paint, hour upon hour, just the two of them. Noah would talk about his family in America, about his nephew, David, and how he wanted to meet them one day, and poetry, and music, and art, and in those hours, Anton says he saw that Noah was a man better than he. “Forgive me,” he says, but Lo argues that no one can forgive him. Anton grabs her and says that she can, because she loved him. “With you, I was free,” Anton says. As the train approaches, Lo tells him he’s wrong, but Anton reminds her of that day in the park, she understood. Lo insists she didn’t, and orders him to let her go. Anton argues that Lo knows him better than anyone. “Noah Pool is dead, and everything I know is a lie,” Lo cries, but Anton protests that how they feel about each other isn’t a lie. He says he loves her, and he knows she loves him. Lo insists that she loves Noah, they struggle, and as the train passes, Anton shoves her to the track. He’s left holding her purse.
As Jo Stafford’s “It Could Happen To You” starts up, Stillman arrests Anton, and Lilly leads them to the car. Back at PPD, a swarm of reporters awaits. Anton looks out the window of the backseat as photographers snap his picture, then Stillman helps him out of the car and escorts him through the hordes of media. Tommy, the reporter from the beginning, is in the crowd, and he and Stillman exchange a smile. Scotty and David are there, too, and Anton casts a glance in David’s direction, but David looks away. Johanna has also made the trip, and she looks on proudly as Anton walks past.
Inside, Jeffries is still planted at his desk, but he’s able to write “Closed” on Lo’s folder.
Vera and Miller have located a suitcase which, we soon see, contains Lo’s purse. They retrieve it, and pull out an article entitled “A War Criminal In Philly.”
This article is published, and Helen shows Birdie the paper. They smile at each other proudly, then Birdie picks up the paper and reads the article.
Outside PPD, Stillman and Anton have finally reached the front doors, and Lilly, walking behind them, turns around and sees Lo looking down from the balcony. Lo smiles at Lilly, then disappears, and Lilly turns and heads inside.
