Previously, on the Truth About the Harry Quebert Affair...
I told you, Bobbo.
Harry Quebert is taking Jenny to Augusta
to see the fireworks.
Who's Harry Quebert?
Mom, I don't think he's coming.
Who the hell is getting married?
Excuse me.
Tell us already.
What are we supposed to be celebrating?
Um...
My dear friends,
we have a new color television.
Robert has cancer.
- What? - Here's to Bobbo.
Oh, you poor thing.
Oh, my God!
Luther, you scared me! Geez!
What does he want from you?
He's a friend. Ow, you're hurting me.
Did somebody do that to you, Jenny?
You know Luther Caleb, Stern's chauffeur?
I had hoped that Nola would be the last,
that he would paint her
and get whatever it was out of his system.
So you think it was Luther who killed Nola?
I've thought so for the last 33 years.
Is this Luther's handwriting?
His instructions for pruning roses.
You can keep it if it'll help you.
Nola's home life was not a happy one.
Nola, is somebody beating you?
It's my mom.
She says I'm a wicked girl.
That's crazy.
My mother told me I had to be punished.
Take a look at that.
"Nola, my darling,
were you to die, where would my love go?"
Keep it in your safe for now.
You're gonna be a great writer,
and we're gonna get a big sun-colored dog,
a Labrador we'll name Storm.
The big news out of the State courthouse this morning
is that Harry Quebert is being released on bail
due to lack of evidence.
The handwriting isn't Harry's.
He didn't write the note on that goddamn manuscript.
Gareth is staying at the Montburry Motel
since his release.
They informed everyone in town
there's a registered sex offender in their midst.
Pratt found the black Monte Carlo,
then he dismissed it?
I'll call the station, find out where he is.
No, actually, I already know.
Pratt, open up!
Shit!
It appears there's been a development...
Chief Pratt killed himself?
You'd think so, but no.
Murdered.
What?
Yeah, a couple of good whacks
at the back of the head.
That's like Nola.
Pratt was protecting somebody
who was afraid that now he'd talk.
With everybody knowing what he did to Nola,
he knew he had nothing to lose.
Yeah, except his life.
Yeah, except that.
You have a theory?
I keep coming back to Elijah Stern.
What if Stern got home from meetings that day,
August 30th, like he said.
He finds Luther gone, and so is the Monte Carlo.
Maybe he hears on the radio that Nola is missing,
and that sends him out searching for Luther,
worried he's mixed up in it...
Evening, Officer.
- Evening. - What's going on?
Well, we got reports of a missing girl in the area,
so we're asking people to stay off the roads
until we find her.
Missing girl?
Where are you headed tonight?
Uh, I was just on my way home,
but I'm sure I can find another way.
We'd appreciate that, sir,
if you don't mind turning around.
Have a good night.
You too.
But maybe instead of going home,
Stern drove to Goose Cove.
Maybe he finds Luther there,
who confesses to killing Deborah Cooper as well...
Please help me.
Get a shovel and a pickaxe from the shed.
Luther tended the grounds at Goose Cove,
so it makes sense that they would bury Nola there.
After they dig the grave,
Luther could've secretly written
the farewell note to Nola.
After that,
Stern needs to find a way to protect Luther,
and that way is Pratt.
Pratt?
Let's say Luther saw Pratt grab Nola,
pull her into his car.
You know, Luther had been watching her like a hawk.
- Let's say he told Stern. - Mm-hmm.
Stern goes to see Pratt.
He tells him, "You let Luther get out of town clean,
and I'll let you get away with what you did to that girl."
But even if Pratt lets him get away with the murder,
maybe Luther can't live with what he did.
I'm so sorry, Eli.
He commits suicide a few days later
by driving his car off a cliff.
And the weirdest part in all this, though...
why would Stern go through all this mess,
I mean, maybe even kill someone,
to protect Luther?
Still trying to figure that part out.
They're burying her today, aren't they?
Yeah.
They're burying her, and I'm not there.
Ah, I wish I was dead.
And may she rest in eternal peace.
Hi, um....
can I just get a hot tea and a shot of brandy, please?
Be right back.
Thank you.
"Female of the species with a formidable sting."
Four letters, starts with "W."
Ha! "Wife."
I think it's "wasp."
Hey, Mr. Quinn.
Yeah.
May I?
Of course.
Thanks.
How's your book going?
Slowly.
There's a lot of gray areas to clear up, you know.
Listen, I wanted to ask you, um,
did your wife ever mention a compromising note she had
that Harry Quebert wrote?
How did you know about that?
Well, your wife told me.
She told me,
but then she said it went missing,
and I...
Look, all due respect,
it's a little hard to know what to believe
when it comes to, uh...
Believe her, Mr. Goldman.
My wife may not be the sweetest thing in the world,
but she doesn't lie.
Mr. Quinn?
Nola? Hey, sweetie.
How are you?
Um...
I have to talk to you.
What's up, kiddo?
This, um... this morning,
I went by Mrs. Quinn's office
to pick up my paycheck,
and I overheard her talking with Chief Pratt.
Take a look at that.
"Nola, my darling,
were you to die, where would my love go?
To lose you is to lose every part of me,
for I have secretly bequeathed to you
all that I am..."
See, he's a criminal
and a sexual predator.
Now, what are you gonna do about it?
Well, I can't do anything right away.
Why the hell not?
You entered his house illegally, Tamara.
You stole his property.
I could get in trouble
just for having this in my possession.
Then what do you suggest we do?
Keep it in your safe for now.
And don't worry,
you'll see how we deal with guys like that
around here.
Okay, and...?
Oh...
I need you to get that note, Mr. Quinn.
I beg you to get that note, please,
or Harry will go to jail, and...
it'll be all my fault.
I-I-I'm sorry, Nola, I don't...
He only wrote that note
because I tried to kill myself.
It's all my fault.
I'm sorry, Nola, I don't... I don't... I...
Mr. Quinn,
please, I'm begging you.
Please help me.
Please help us, do you understand?
I can't do what you're asking me to.
I can't... condone
whatever's going on between the two of you.
I-I...
For the love of God?
I don't think God would approve of it either.
We love each other like no one's ever loved.
Look at me.
Our love is pure, and it's beautiful,
and I would do anything for him.
Anything, do you understand?
If I lose him, Mr. Quinn,
it's like losing a part of myself...
the best part of myself.
I'll never find anyone like him again.
I don't know what to say, Nola.
You know what it feels like, Mr. Quinn.
Love?
When you know...
Maybe we should go in the house
and have a hot chocolate or something.
No, Mr. Quinn, we can't just go and have a hot chocolate.
Just relax.
Are you listening to me, Mr. Quinn?
I am, but, you know,
you're just going through something now.
You need to relax...
Am I going through something?
I need him to stay alive, Mr. Quinn,
so can you just please listen to me?
Are you gonna get that note for me?
I-I can't, I can't.
I...
I'm sorry, Nola.
It was incredible, her passion and intensity...
And I envied her.
What she felt for Harry
was something I had never felt for anyone myself.
And that's when I realized
I had probably never been in love.
I asked her what she intended to do about Chief Pratt,
since he knew about the note.
Right.
Hmm?
Come in?
Oh.
Well, hello, Nola.
What's going on?
She said not to worry, she'd...
think of a way to keep him from getting involved.
Holy shit.
Of course, I didn't know what that meant
until he got arrested.
Right.
And so you told her you'd help her.
Just drink it, honey bunny.
You'll sleep better.
Screw you, Tamara!
Making up some story I got cancer
'cause your party sucks!
Screw you and your gossip, and your meddling,
your, "Oh, don't touch me, I'm too tired.
Take it away."
"My Bobbo.
The sweetest, dearest man I have ever known.
If only I could tell him
that I'll love him till my dying breath."
"Nola, my darling..."
You know what it feels like, Mr. Quinn.
Love?
Three days
after Robert Quinn stole the incriminating note
from Mrs. Quinn's safe
and burned it,
Nola Kellergan disappeared,
never to be heard from again.
As time passed,
and the case of her disappearance
and Deborah Cooper's murder remained unsolved,
a permanent unease settled over the town.
Children were no longer allowed to play outside
without supervision.
Before long,
the streets would take on the disturbing hush
of a ghost town.
Harry coped with Nola's disappearance
by burying himself in his work.
He spent his days locked away in his office,
turning his pile of handwritten pages
into a meticulously revised typewritten manuscript.
As the summer turned to fall,
Harry remained sequestered in Goose Cove.
The only person who visited him was Jenny,
who showed up every day after her shift
with a box filled with provisions from Clark's.
Hello?
Got some snacks!
Harry?
Thank you, Jenny.
Thank you very much.
You'll be next.
Wait here, please.
Thank you very much.
Hey.
Hi.
Hello?
Uh, yeah, in bottles.
Good morning, listeners.
12 cases.
If you're still shopping
for Christmas presents,
"The Origin of Evil" by Harry Quebert...
Good, we'll see you then.
Is still at the top of every bestseller list
after eight weeks.
Publisher Schmid and Hanson
warns that the book is sold out in many bookshops,
but they are doing their best to assure a reprint
before the end of the year.
If you are lucky enough to get a copy,
I wish you a good read and a merry Christmas...
âª Faithful friends who are dear to us âª
âª Will be near to us once more âª
Merry Christmas, Storm.
Oh, what is it?
Yes!
Come here, you.
Come here, you...
What are you doing? What are you doing?
Yes.
Âª Hang a shining star upon the highest bough âª
âª And have yourself a merry little Christmas now âª
Five! Four!
Three! Two! One!
- - Happy New Year!
It's gonna be a good year.
Something tells me.
All right, well, I might go to bed.
Already?
Yeah, I'm feeling kind of tired.
Okay.
Night.
Night, Mom.
All right, Happy New Year, Dad.
Jenny?
Yeah?
Miss Jenny Quinn,
would you consider marrying Mr. Travis Dawn,
a Sommerdale police officer,
who is in love
with the most beautiful girl in Maine?
Yes.
Yes?
Yes!
Good night.
Aah!
You can't eat that!
Storm, that's for the birds.
What are you doing? That's for the birds.
You can't eat that.
What is that for, huh?
That's for the birds.
Come on.
I know.
How's your shoulder? I know.
How is that shoulder of yours, huh?
I know. You can't have the bread.
Let's give it to the birds. See? There they are.
Hey! Mr. Quebert!
Can I have a moment of your time?
Come on, Storm.
Let's go.
I don't know what to say.
I'll take that as a "yes," then.
I'm delighted.
All right.
Let me show you out.
Did you see that, Storm?
I'm gonna be a college professor.
What do you think of that, Storm? Hmm?
College professor...
Hey.
The results are in.
The handwriting on the manuscript
is Luther Caleb's.
Oh, shit.
Well...
We got our guy.
In light of the recent evidence,
the court finds Luther Caleb,
now deceased,
guilty of the 1975 murders
of Nola Kellergan and Deborah Cooper.
In the matter of Maine versus Harry Quebert,
bail is hereby exonerated,
and all charges against him, dismissed.
Let me just say that the system worked perfectly.
For those of you who say it took us 33 years
to solve Nola Kellergan and Deborah Cooper's murders,
I say it's better than rushing to the wrong conclusion.
The Maine State Police took the necessary time
to make sure we got it right.
Marisa!
The timing couldn't be more perfect.
Three weeks' time,
it's all gonna be about the presidential election.
Nobody's gonna give a shit
whether Harry Quebert killed the pope.
Life, it's all about priorities.
So is commerce, my friend.
Anyway, the boys in Marketing
put together some ideas for a cover.
What do you think?
Mm-hmm.
This one's nice.
I mean, I didn't realize Quasimodo was in my book.
Roy?
These are so cheesy
I can literally feel my cholesterol rising.
Okay, okay, okay...
Okay?
W-We'll dial it back, we'll dial it back.
Please.
Shouldn't you be at work?
Yeah, yeah.
Go, go, go, go...
I'm going.
Three weeks from now,
I can expect a manuscript, yeah?
Yes, that is the plan.
Not three weeks and a day, okay?
Uh-huh. Three weeks.
The Times is pushing Philip Roth
to review your book!
Three weeks.
I won't read it.
Harry, I need your approval before it gets published, okay?
This book is yours.
No.
It's your book, Marcus,
and that's the problem.
What's the problem?
It's complicated.
"It's complicated," okay.
You know what?
This is insane.
I'll call you from New York.
Probably best that you don't.
After months of digging
and piecing it together,
my exposÃ© about Nola's murder was finally published.
Um, could you...
sign your name here, please?
Uh...
Uh, both or just...
Just here.
Okay.
It was the hottest-selling
True Crime book in the country.
Thank you.
That day,
Nola decided not to walk along Shore Road,
but to take the path along the forest
that led to the beach.
Desperate not to keep her beloved waiting,
she valiantly hewed her way through the brush,
careful not to tear the red dress she'd worn
for the occasion...
her favorite.
What she didn't know
was that Luther Caleb had followed her into the woods,
determined to keep her for himself.
Another two miles to walk, and she would reach the hotel
where Harry would be waiting for her.
One more hour,
and they would be on their way to Canada
and a new life,
away from her abusive mother
who had inflicted such cruelty on Nola
all these years.
She would finally be free...
or so she thought,
because Nola's story would not have a happy ending.
And I love that the critics are claiming
that The Origin of Evil should only be read
in conjunction with our book,
because, and I quote,
"The character of Nola Kellergan
no longer represents an impossible love,
but the omnipotence of love."
Right. Whatever the hell that means.
It means a limited edition box set, baby,
containing The Origin of Evil, The Harry Quebert Affair,
and an analysis of the text
by the New York Review of Books, baby!
Hi, Sergeant.
Don't tell me.
Your wife loved it, but you loved it more, right?
Check your e-mail.
Okay.
Yeah, well, just hang on one second.
I'll just check it on my phone.
What kind of fancy-ass phone has e-mail?
Oh, it's brand new.
Yeah, the company just sent me one.
I could probably hook you up if you want.
Look, just check your e-mail, would you?
Okay.
Yeah, it's, uh...
it's a picture of, uh, like, a cemetery headstone?
Mm-hmm.
Enlarge the gravestone.
Louisa Kellergan...
1966?
What the hell is this?
Nola's mother died in 1966,
nine years before Nola disappeared.
She was beaten by a dead woman.
Where did you get this?
Photo was sent to the newspaper
by one of your female admirers in Alabama,
so the whole country is about to know
my investigation screwed up,
and that your book is a pile of crap.
Um...
Uh, let me call you back.
After we got back from the Adirondacks,
Nola came to me.
She said her mother beat her with a ruler.
I could see the bruises.
That's criminal.
But it gets worse.
I don't understand.
Why don't you want anyone to know this?
All right. Time's up, Quebert, let's go.
I made a horrible discovery about her mother.
What discovery?
I said time's up. Let's go.
I made a horrible discovery about her mother.
Please don't tell me
that you never finished that conversation.
Fuck!
Oh, hey.
Hey!
Hey. Uh, you're not Harry.
What tipped you off?
Hi, man, we're, uh...
we're looking for a guest who was stay...
Uh, we're looking for a guest who was staying in Room 8?
A Harry Quebert?
Is he still... Is he still staying here?
"Quebert" with a "Q"?
Yeah. Q-U-E...
Harry Quebert checked out a while ago.
On September 24th.
Right after he and this old guy got into an argument.
It's a good thing your friend took off, too,
'cause the old guy came back with a rifle.
I called a cop.
Hmm...
Well, at least we can find out who it was.
This is insane.
This is ab... This is insane.
Wait, wait, wait a sec!
He also said a young guy would come looking for him,
and he would say, "This is insane.
This is insane!"
You do say that a lot.
Go around!
Can I see it?
"Dear Marcus,
if you're still looking for answers,
this may interest you.
This book is the truth.
Harry."
"The Seagulls of Sommerdale" by Harry L. Quebert.
It's an unpublished book of Harry's.
I don't know, he always said Nola loved seagulls.
There must be some connection.
But what does that mean, "This book is the truth"?
Oh, man, this ending.
He and Nola,
living happily ever after?
Hmm.
I guess he made it to writer's heaven.
What's that?
It's like when you, um...
you get to see your life
the way you wish you'd lived it.
I guess you, uh...
write your way to being happy.
So what do you think he's trying to tell you now?
"This book is the truth."
I have no fucking idea.
I don't know, maybe you could try
telling us the truth this time.
I don't know what you're implying, Mr. Goldman.
You came here asking me questions,
and I answered them to the best of my ability.
You told me Nola's mother was beating her, and...
and how shocked you were when she told you...
No, what I actually said,
and you can check your notes,
is that Nola told me her mother beat her.
And yes, that was shocking, considering the fact
that her mother had been dead for nine years.
Uh...
you never said anything about her being dead.
I assumed you knew.
Everybody knew that.
How could you not know,
famous writer from New York and all?
Oh, God...
I... I honestly didn't mean to mislead you.
Okay.
Got the name of the old kook who went after Harry.
I'm sure he'll be thrilled to see you.
You're not welcome here, Mr. Goldman.
You desecrated the memory of my wife and daughter!
All right.
Just please put the gun down,
Mr. Kellergan.
Why did you threaten Harry at the By The Sea Motel?
Because he's still alive, and my daughter's dead!
All right, all right, hey!
That's enough, Reverend!
Give me the rifle!
I ought to sue you for every penny you got.
I ought to sue you
for that trash you wrote.
And why haven't you done that already?
I'll take everything that you've got!
Why haven't you done that already?
Writer!
Huh? No, no, no. No!
Why aren't we in court
right now?
Maybe it's because you're the one you beat Nola!
I never laid a hand on my daughter!
Or maybe it's just because
you don't want people finding out
what happened in Alabama.
Okay, okay.
Okay, Reverend, let's not lose our cool here.
Put down the gun.
And we are going to find out!
You are a devil.
You're a devil.
God...
Sorry about the disturbance, Chief.
We'll be on our way.
Thanks for doing this.
Really appreciate it.
Oh, happy to help.
Here.
Thought you might find this interesting.
David Kellergan married Louisa Bonneville
in 1955,
and became a pastor
in the parish of Mount Pleasant.
Five years later, Nola was born.
To everybody,
they seemed like the perfect
God-fearing Alabama family...
until the tragedy in 1966.
What tragedy?
The Reverend came home at 2:00 a.m.
after spending the evening
at a dying parishioner's bedside.
Louisa! Oh, God!
Ah!
Louisa!
Nola!
His wife was found burned to death,
but his daughter survived.
The tragedy occurred on August 30th.
Holy shit!
Nola disappeared nine years later to the day.
For a long time after, there was some talk.
I mean, the pastor just so happens
to show up in time to save his daughter,
but not his wife.
Seems fishy, but they had no evidence against him.
Pastor Lewis worked at a neighboring parish.
He was a good friend of the Kellergans.
You'll see,
he's still pretty sprightly for a 90-year-old.
I have never known...
a family...
as happy...
as that one.
David and Louisa,
they were made by the Lord
to love one another.
And Nola,
my...
She was...
an extraordinary,
beautiful little girl.
It gave you undying hope in humanity.
Until one day...
we exorcised her.
But...
it didn't go as planned.
Uh...
you exorcised who?
Nola, the little girl.
That girl had so much evil in her.
The devil's claws were stuck deep in her heart,
into the depths of her soul.
The night of the fire did not go
quite the way David Kellergan told the police.
Nola!
Louisa!
Oh, God!
Ah!
Nola...
Nola?
Nola! Nola!
Nola!
Âª Singing polly-wolly doodle all day âª
âª Fare thee well Fare thee well âª
âª Fare thee well, my fairy fey âª
âª For I'm going to Louisiana to see my Susyanna âª
âª Singing polly-wolly doodle all day âª
They stayed that night with me.
I have never seen a man so broken.
He must have thought
that little girl was in shock...
Hi, Daddy.
Hey, sweetie.
I gotta tell you something.
You remember last night?
There was a fire at our house?
Yes?
It wasn't just a bad dream.
I know.
Something very serious happened.
Something very sad.
Mommy was in our bedroom
when the fire happened, and...
she couldn't get out.
She died.
I know.
She was wicked.
She needed to be dead,
so I put the curtains on fire.
We tried to force the devil from her body...
but Satan is stubborn!
So you beat a little girl.
No.
We beat the devil.
But Satan is strong.
That little girl
started to believe
that she herself was her mother.
She was punishing herself,
whipping herself,
plunging her head into a bath of icy water.
Well...
that poor little girl,
she was in agony.
Her father couldn't take any more.
So he decided
to move them both far away.
We're here, Nola.
We're home.