Forever

What is your problem?

I-if you don't stop calling me...

I got to go.

I'm so sorry.

Ah, homicide.

What morning's complete

without a 100-yard hike through garbage to a dead body?

You picked up.

When I pick up,

the crime scene is a fountain or a museum, someplace nice.

You pick up, it's a crack den or a tunnel.

What? I got bad crimescene karma?

I'm just saying.

No purse, no I.D.

Someone liked to take pictures, though.

What do you think? She a pro?

Well, it wouldn't be the first prostitute to end up here.

H-hey, possible murder weapon.

What is that thing?

Fondue skewer.

What the hell?

Her hair, her dress...

It's like she's ready for a '70s costume party.

Could be an extra in a movie.

Maybe they're finally remaking "Saturday Night Fever."

Did I ever tell you that was my first R-rated movie?

It's come up. I'm gonna need Henry on this one.

They used to say my hair and Travolta's was identical...

Thick, jet-black, the perfect sheen.

Tell you about this, too?

It has come up.

Sorry.

Oh, goodness gracious, Abraham, what's that?

That, sir, is the aroma of, uh, wet cardboard and mold.

It was so cold last night, one of the pipes burst in the attic.

Fortunately, this is the only box that got soaked.

Not your baseball cards, I hope.

No, those I have in a safety-deposit box.

This is just some old junk.

Baby Abraham's bronzed booties.

Yeah. Stopped fitting a long time ago.

It's just sentimental garbage, you know,

without any real value.

Well, it's part of your past.

Yeah, well, what I want to keep, I keep up here.

If not, I just forget it, make room for the new.

The other stuff belongs in a landfill.

Oh, uh...

Mom's cookbook.

I, uh, didn't see that.

Um... I'm sorry.

That was not junk.

Perhaps you're right, Abraham.

It's a new day.

There are new memories to be made.

I'm off.

We are told that those who ignore the past

are doomed to repeat it,

while those who dwell in the past

would love nothing more than to repeat it

over and over again.

But memories, like photographs, have a way of fading with time.

Well, based on the amount of blood,

we figure she bled out from her neck wound, made by this.

Oh, I love fondue!

You can go, like, savory with cheese

or sweet with chocolate,

but the best part... It's social.

And, therefore, a Petri dish for communicable diseases.

- I'll get this tested. - Yum.

So, doc, bruises on her wrists

suggest she might have been held down.

That's amazing.

What's amazing?

Her hair.

It smells of...

Garbage?

Chlorofluorocarbons,

used in aerosol products like hair spray in the '70s,

before it was banned.

I wonder...

Yeah, we were thinking the vintage outfit she's wearing

might point to an actor in costume.

Well, no costume is this exact, no.

Our victim's nail polish contains phthalate ester,

a plasticizer,

discontinued due to its carcinogenic properties.

The anachronisms don't stop there.

This wrap is a Von Furstenberg original.

Every item is vintage.

What are we talking about here, doc... a time traveler?

Or a victim who was obsessed with the past,

and speaking of obsessions,

due to the voyeuristic nature of these photographs,

I'd wager that our victim was the object of someone's fantasy.

Which turned into a nightmare.

The victim bled out when her carotid was cut.

And the fondue skewer we recovered matches the wound.

Just when you think you've heard it all.

Have we run her past vice?

Yeah, but we're not sure she's a prostitute.

Based on her wardrobe,

Henry thinks she was part of some weird '70s fantasy.

Well, who knew we had Anna Wintour downstairs

doing our autopsies?

Missing Persons came back with reports

matching our Jane Doe's description.

We got a match... Sarah Clancy,

junior at N.Y.U., reported missing by her roommate.

It's hard to believe it's the same girl.

Jo, talk to the roommate.

Hanson, go back to the landfill.

See if you can trace back from the dump site

to find out where our victim was murdered.

See what happens when you pick up the phone?

We met our first day.

We were both from small towns,

in the city for the first time.

The fact that we ended up as roommates, it was perfect...

Like Sarah and I had been friends our whole lives.

Had Sarah been dealing with any personal issues?

New boyfriend, bad breakup maybe?

I don't know.

I thought you were best friends.

We were v-very close, and then we weren't.

Sarah may have arrived in New York a small-town girl,

but she was changing, wasn't she?

Rather a sophisticated wardrobe.

Not exactly contemporary couture, is it?

Jennifer, you can talk to us.

We just want to find the person who did this.

She had changed.

And not just the way that she looked.

Do you have any idea who or what

would be responsible for this transformation?

She had become so secretive.

Dropped all of her classes, except for one.

It was like she was obsessed with it.

Which class?

What urge creates these fantasies?

Is it control,

power, transformation?

If our fantasies are fed by our deepest desires...

Is it just me, or has college changed?

Then understanding them can teach us who we truly are...

Since Freud, psychology has become obsessed with sexuality.

I've always found it rather...

stimulating.

We all have someone or something we fantasize about.

The question is, what could we learn about ourselves

if we gave in to that desire?

That's all I have for today. Thank you.

Iona.

Oh, that's Professor Dawes in the classroom.

You can call me Molly.

Well, it's a pleasure to see you again, Molly.

You may call me Henry.

You are full of surprises.

Therapist, dominatrix,

professor?

Well, I do have a PhD in psychology from Yale,

so the head of the department calls me in

any time there's subject matter

her staff isn't as well-versed in.

Such as sexual fantasy.

Which is exactly what we've come here to discuss.

Professionally, of course.

I can't believe she's dead.

Did you know Sarah well?

We had a lot in common.

She and I both had very sheltered childhoods.

She was different from the rest of my students.

She was very mature.

Did she talk a lot about her personal life?

We're trying to find out...

Who took these.

She did come to office hours a few weeks ago...

Not about class.

She told me

that she was involved in a role-playing relationship

and she knew it wasn't normal, per se.

Did she know about your...

secondary occupation?

That I'm a domination therapist?

That's why I felt obliged

to ask her if she enjoyed it and if she felt safe,

and she said yes.

But...

If she was wrong and then I didn't...

It's not your fault.

Perhaps there's a way I can help.

I mean, if there's anything that you can tell me about the crime scene, then...

Thank you, professor,

but we have New York City's finest on it.

Thank you.

You sure they only gave us one Hazmat suit?

What? Oh, uh, cutbacks, I guess.

Wow, great article on Jimmy Caan's walk-in humidor.

I think I found something...

A possible location for the crime scene.