Episode transcript - “IN pursuit of truth & justice”

[SFX: Olivia and Susan walk through the rubble of the A of A.]

OLIVIA: You’re positive that it’s okay we’re here, right?

SUSAN: Of course it is! Roger and Brett hired us to be, didn’t they?

OLIVIA: (annoyed) Obviously they did, Susan. I mean whether or not it’s alright with the authorities.

SUSAN: I know that. But it’s not an active crime scene anymore. You saw the reports—the fire marshall is citing a genuine Act of God in this instance. Still no sign of arson at the moment, intentional or otherwise.

OLIVIA: Then it’s likely just a simple case of negligence?

SUSAN: That’s correct.

[SFX: Olivia sighs as they cross further into the burnt wreckage.]

OLIVIA: I mean, look at this place. Am I seriously seeing the remnants of velvet curtains directly next to the fryer?

SUSAN: It would appear so, yes.

OLIVIA: It doesn’t take an idiot to realize how dangerous that’d be.

SUSAN: Maybe, but the A of A was a traditional kind of place. A real men’s club. This room was the only place where women were even allowed before the accident. It seems our seamen preferred to keep themselves entirely separate from their wives. Even when they were cooking finger foods for their endless bowling tournaments.

OLIVIA: (scoffs) And their argument against a standard swinging door would be…

SUSAN: Please! That wouldn’t behoove such titans of class and industry as Roger and his lackeys.

[SFX: Olivia and Susan both let out an earnest laugh at that.]

OLIVIA: So, the folks running the donut train were pushing their fryers to the limit, trying to meet the needs of St. Pat’s extravagant festival, and the ensuing sparks caught the curtains, allowing the rest of the place to go up like a tinderbox?

SUSAN: That’s the current working theory. They sure were a fan of their historical tchotchkes, so there were plenty of places for it to spread.

OLIVIA: Why didn’t anybody catch it while it was happening?

SUSAN: Ah, Lexi! That new Mrs. Walters, swore she only left the building unattended for a moment, while she delivered a fresh batch of bear claws in preparation for Klem’s eating contest.

OLIVIA: Yeah, I saw that statement. But, I mean, c’mon. Do we really buy that? Would she really be manning the entire enterprise by herself? Are we supposed to believe that there was no one else working in the A of A with her that day who could’ve helped contain the blaze?

SUSAN: Be careful, Liv. It almost sounds to me like you might be taking this job seriously.

OLIVIA: (deep sigh) I mean, we’re here, aren’t we? Might as well give it the old college try.

SUSAN: (chuckling) That’s the spirit! So, what else seems fishy to you?

OLIVIA: Aren’t I supposed to be your assistant? Not the other way around.

SUSAN: (amused) Oh, maybe so, my little baby Watson. But if you’ve got a hunch, I’d like you to follow it toward its natural conclusion.

OLIVIA: It’s just… 

[SFX: Olivia sifts through the wreckage, picking up burnt pieces of equipment before casting it aside again.]

OLIVIA: Lexi owns a working bakery with industrial kitchen equipment. Why not use that facility, rather than a place like this?

SUSAN: Hah, I appreciate your admiration for the small business owner, but I’ve seen both kitchens: I’d have made the same decision if I were her. Something about the A of A’s budget screams extravagance, if you know what I mean?

OLIVIA: I guess… even still. Seems a bit silly to lug all of your ingredients halfway across town just to work in a bigger, shinier space.

SUSAN: I’d bet ol’ Joe had something to do with that. He’s always looking for a reason to parade that new starter wife of his in front of the whole church.

[SFX: Olivia fidgets with the knobs on the oven, opens and closes a heavy metal drawer, and makes a bit more of a ruckus.]

OLIVIA: Did the marshall say whether or not the sprinklers kicked on before or after the fire spread?

SUSAN: No, he didn’t. But I’m assuming after, wouldn’t you think?

OLIVIA: Not necessarily… you see, it’s all about the oil here, right? So, if we’re to believe the Marshall, Lexi left the A of A for what, two minutes? And suddenly, the whole place is ablaze?

SUSAN: That’s what we’ve been told, yes.

OLIVIA: The thing about cooking oil, in whatever form it takes—vegetable, canola, peanut, shortening—is that even when it’s technically burning, it’s going to smoke before it catches on fire. So I’m not quite sure I buy the working theory. Because if you take a look at these burn marks here, here, and here…

[SFX: Olivia taps part of the metal stove in the wreckage.]

OLIVIA: You’ll see oil splatters all over the other burners on this stovetop. 

SUSAN: Fire typically spreads once it catches, dear. I’m still not entirely following you.

OLIVIA: When spraying water hits cooking oil, burning or not, it splatters. So, looking at these burn marks proves my thought: those sprinklers went off before it started.

SUSAN: And that means?

OLIVIA: Not only would the oil Lexi felt perfectly confident leaving alone for mere moments have had to get hot enough to kick up smoke, but it’d also have to splash onto other open flames in order to cause any real damage that quickly. And when I say hot, I mean hellfire. Like, easily a hundred degrees hotter than she’d use to comfortably bathe a bear claw without expecting it to come out a charred mess. And look, I’m not going to pretend I’m a donut baking connoisseur, but even if she was trying to cut corners to meet the festival’s demands, I highly doubt a trained professional would make such a rookie mistake so as to crank up all four burners, even the three she wasn’t using, right before stepping out.

SUSAN: Huh. You sure know a whole lot about cooking oil…

OLIVIA: I worked at an O’Donald’s when I was a kid and graduated to the slightly nicer Six Gals Burgers & Pals when I went off to college. Spent a lot of time watching training videos on how not to burn a place down. And, subsequently, doing a bunch of dumb shit with my coworkers to try and push our fryers to the absolute limit in the interim.

SUSAN: So you’re thinking this may be arson, yet?

OLIVIA: I don’t wanna give Roger more credit than he’s due, but I will say this: I’m a lot more inclined to speak to the people of this town now than I was an hour ago. Should we head to the pancake breakfast

SUSAN: (proud of her) We should indeed.

[MUSIC: An alternate version of the opening theme that takes on a Law & Order-esque vibe.]

ADAM: Forgive Me! Season three episode four: In Persuit of Truth and Justice

[SFX: There is light chatter and the sound of bacon sizzling as they walk into the room.]

OLIVIA: (quiet, as they enter) So how do you wanna do this? Split the room?

SUSAN: Well, I actually volunteered you for coffee service. The perfect cover to case as much of the place as possible.

OLIVIA: Oh you did, did you? And what’re you signed up for while I spend the entire morning on my feet?

SUSAN: Nothing! I told those boys I’d be expensing a breakfast, and I intend to do it.

OLIVIA: You can’t be serious.

SUSAN: Dead serious, dear. Now shush up. That cute priest is making a beeline for us.

[SFX: Father Ben approaches from the other side of the room.]

FR. BEN: Olivia! I was certainly… surprised to see your name on the list of volunteers for this morning’s breakfast.

OLIVIA: (cold) ! I was too if you’d believe it.

SUSAN: Ah, don’t mind this one, Father! She’s not quite herself before she’s had her morning cup of joe. Speaking of which, can you show her where she’ll be set up—

FR. BEN: Yes! Of course, this way Ol—I mean, Ms. Inwood.

OLIVIA: I can see it from here. Your services, while appreciated, are entirely unnecessary.

FR. BEN: Don’t hesitate to reach out if you…

[SFX: Olivia walks away, abruptly and without a word, in the middle of Ben’s sentence.]

FR. BEN: … and she’s gone.

SUSAN: (suspicious) If I was a betting woman, I’d say there was a lot about that interaction that went above my head.

FR. BEN: I have no idea what you mean…

SUSAN: Sure you don’t, pal. Sure you don’t. Now, if you don't mind me, I’ve got a half stack of blueberry and a quarter pound of bacon burning a hole in my nostrils!

[SFX: There are two large drum hits as the perspective shifts to Olivia, who is pouring a cup of coffee.]

OLIVIA: (clearing her throat) ‘Scuse me, anybody else in the mood for a top off?

LISA: Oh, no, honey. We’re fine, thanks.

MITCHELL: Speak for yourself, mom! I’d love some, thank you.

LISA: I think you’ve had enough coffee this morning, honey.

MITCHELL: You say that every day.

LISA: (resigned) I know I do. Now if you’d only listen…

OLIVIA: So am I—

LISA: Yes, of course. Go ahead. He’s gonna track you down whether I want him to or not.

[SFX: There’s the sound of another paper cup being filled.]

MITCHELL: Have you got any sugar on you?

OLIVIA: Just a minute…

[SFX: She rustles through her pockets, and hands some over.]

OLIVIA: Do I know you from somewhere?

MITCHELL: (putting on his customer service voice) Welcome to Burger Bros, home of the Bro Burger, can I take your order?

OLIVIA: That’s it! I knew I recognized you.

MITCHELL: I try not to bug customers in the wild, but I clocked you right away. Large strawberry milkshake, a seven-piece chicken guy, and a medium onion ring, every Thursday night.

OLIVIA: (embarrassed) Very good memory.

LISA: If only he remembered what he learned in school half as well as your order. I’m sure he’d be bringing home a lot more passing grades on his report card…

MITCHELL: Mom!

OLIVIA: (chuckling) Don’t sweat it, kid. I had crappy grades when I was your age too.

LISA: And what is it that you do now? 

OLIVIA: I’m a private investigator.

LISA: See, Mitchell? Her grades weren’t good enough to go to college and become a real detective—

OLIVIA: That isn’t what I… you know what? Nevermind that. I actually did have a couple of questions for you, Mitchell…

MITCHELL: (confused) Yeah, sure. I don’t know what you’d have to ask me, but shoot. 

OLIVIA: Well, as you’re aware, the Armada of Amerigo building burned down last week—

LISA: I heard that was an electrical fire?

OLIVIA: No, as of now, the authorities are calling it an Act of God, but the Supreme Admiral hired my boss and me because he has reasons to believe that the assessment may not be 100% accurate.

MITCHELL: Juicy! What has that got to do with me?

OLIVIA: I’ve heard from a few folks around town that you were the one who found the fire. And that before it started, they hadn’t seen you in quite a while, even though you were supposed to be volunteering at the dunking booth…

LISA: (concerned) What on earth have you done now?

MITCHELL: Nothing, mom! I swear!

OLIVIA: Look, I’m not here to accuse anybody of anything. I’d just love to hear a bit more about what you were doing before you realized the A of A was in flames?

MITCHELL: (awkward) Well, see, that… that’s the thing…

LISA: (scary mom voice) Mitchell Duncan Clark.

MITCHELL: I wasn’t doing anything illegal! Not even blazing, mom. I swear.

LISA: So why won’t you tell the nice lady what you were doing?

RAVEN: (clearing her throat) He was with me! 

LISA: Is that—it couldn’t be? Little Raven Macintosh! I haven’t seen you since you were still splitting magician duties with Mitch.

RAVEN: Hi Mrs. Clark.

LISA: Now why in the world wouldn’t you want to tell me that you were hanging out with your friend, honey?

RAVEN: (clears her throat) His girlfriend.

LISA: Your what?!

MITCHELL: (breathing in through clenched teeth) My girlfriend, mom. 

LISA: And how long has this been happening—

OLIVIA: (trying to cut the tension) I’m sorry, bud, I didn’t mean to blow up your spot.

MITCHELL: Naw, it’s okay… I’ve been meaning to tell her anyway.

LISA: When did I tell you it was alright for you to start dating?

MITCHELL: You, you didn’t, mom. Um…

RAVEN: Mrs. Clark, please don’t be mad at him. He was just helping me study for chem at first and—

LISA: (sigh) Ended up having a bit of chemistry of your own, now, did you?

RAVEN: (chuckling) Yeah, you could say that.

MITCHELL: (mortified) Ew, mom!

OLIVIA: There is one more question I have for you, though.

MITCHELL: Shoot.

OLIVIA: Did either of you happen to see anything suspicious around the A of A before you saw it go up in flames?

MITCHELL: (confused) Now that you say it, this weirdo from my class, Andrew, ran past me a few minutes before we realized what was going on. Honestly? If you’re looking for somebody who’d start a fire, that’s the first place I’d start!

RAVEN: Yeah, that kid’s a total pyro.

LISA: Andrew Servidone? Why would you say that?! He’s a good boy from a good family!

RAVEN: (laughing) Tell that to Mr. Lombardo…

OLIVIA: Is Andrew here today?

MITCHELL: (looking around the room for a second) Uh… I don’t see him.

RAVEN: Me either.

OLIVIA: If he turns up, you think you could give me the signal on the down-low?

MITCHELL: You’ve got it, Ms. Onion Rings.

[SFX: Olivia laughs. The two percussive drum hits plays again as we instead hear the sound of another cup of coffee being poured.]

BILL: Bah, bah, bah! That’s enough. The old ticker can’t handle more than two or three cups anymore these days.

OLIVIA: You take any cream or sugar? I think I’ve still got some in my jacket…

BILL: I’m golden, darlin’.

OLIVIA: Hey… you wouldn’t remember me, but you’re Shannon Thompson’s dad, right?

BILL: That I am! Did you two graduate together?

OLIVIA: (flattered) No, I’m a few years older than her, but that’s very kind of you to say.

BILL: Were you on the field hockey team? She was on varsity for so long that I have a hard time keeping track of all her old teammates, you know.

OLIVIA: That’s not it either. I’m just a friend. How’s she doing these days?

BILL: Pretty great. Her career’s really taking off, and she and her partner bought their first condo together last month. Oh I’m… I’m proud of her.

OLIVIA: Does she come home much? I’d love to get coffee with her, to catch up on old times.

BILL: Sheesh, I can’t even remember the last time she’s been back. 

OLIVIA: (sad) Aw, that’s too bad.

BILL: Aw, that’s okay! She’s a busy kid. I’m just happy she’s happy. Plus, she drags me out to the city to see them often enough and, well yeah... I’m a bit of a sucker for Broadway, but don’t tell anybody around here about that. I’d never hear the end of it.

OLIVIA: That sounds so nice. Don’t worry, Mr. Thompson, your secret is safe with me.

BILL: I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name…

OLIVIA: No, you didn’t. Uh…

[SFX: There’s a beat of awkward silence with busy crowd sounds for a moment.]

OLIVIA: I’m afraid I’ve been lying to you.

BILL: Oh?

OLIVIA: I don’t know your daughter. I only moved here a few years ago.

BILL: (on edge) That’s a little strange to hear, I won’t lie. But I know people around here talk… is there something I can do to help you? Something that you’d like to know about my daughter in particular? Because—Ben told me I wouldn’t have to put up with this *whispers* shit anymore if I came back around for parish events again.

OLIVIA: No, no, no! An… inelegant conversation starter on my part. You see, I work with Susan Tubbles and we were recently hired by—

BILL: Say no more. I know who sent you. You tell that *whispers again* asshole Roger that I’ve got nothing to do with whatever harebrained conspiracy theory he’s cooked up about what happened to the A of A building.

OLIVIA: I take it you and the Supreme Admiral don’t think very highly of one another.

BILL: That’s putting it mildly, to say the least.

OLIVIA: You see how your answer puts me in a bit of an awkward place, though, Mr. Thompson? I’ll be honest, your name was one I was looking mighty forward to crossing off this list but hearing the way you speak about him does admittedly give me a bit of pause.

BILL: I appreciate your candor, Ms…?

OLIVIA: Inwood. Olivia Inwood.

BILL: I appreciate your candor, Ms. Inwood, but my feelings about that Supreme Asshole far outdate whatever misfortune befell his little boys’ club over there. No, Roger and I may have two very different definitions of what it means to be the man of the house. Of how to parent and support a child, especially a grown adult child who is free to love whoever the hell she wants. But what motivation does that give me to set his little kingdom on fire? It’s been years since he and that shitty little daughter of his relentlessly bullied my kid, and I’ve been nothing but a gentleman ever since. If you’re really taking this line of inquiry where I think you are, how would you explain my sudden change of heart?

OLIVIA: (stumbling) I wouldn’t, Mr. Thompson. Like I said before, there was no part of me that had any interest in doing anything other than crossing your name off Roger’s list. But, could you humor me and tell me where you were the morning of the Donut Festival?

BILL: Same place I am every weekend, these days. Out at my lake house in the Adirondacks, fishing with my brother. 

OLIVIA: Would you mind giving me his number so I can confirm that?

BILL: I would.

OLIVIA: (awkward) Understood.

BILL: Ms. Inwood, I don’t mean to be disrespectful here. I appreciate the fact that you’re just doing your job—but if I were you, I’d spend some real time considering who’s cutting your paychecks. Some people just aren’t worth getting into bed with, even if the coffers seem like they’ll never run dry.

OLIVIA: Care to elaborate on that?

BILL: I do not. Do you have any other questions for me at this time?

OLIVIA: That’ll be all for now.

BILL: Good, my pancakes are getting a bit cold.

OLIVIA: You have a good day, Mr. Thompson.

BILL: You too, dear. You too.

[SFX: The two percussive hits again as another cup of coffee is being poured.]

CLARA: Don’t be stingy with that pour there! I need my fuel today.

OLIVIA: (amused) I hear you loud and clear, ma’am. What’ve you got on the docket, if you don’t mind me asking?

CLARA: Gus, my beloved Irish Wolfhound, has a big show coming up this weekend and we’ll be training all morning!

OLIVIA: That’s incredibly exciting! What sort of competing does Gus do?

CLARA: You’re… you’re actually interested?

OLIVIA: Yes! Why wouldn’t I be? All dogs are good dogs.

CLARA: Hmmm, yes, maybe. I suppose you could say that. But some dogs are better than others, and that’s Gus, so yeah, thank you…

OLIVIA: (playful) I don’t know, my Percy may be able to give him a run for his money…

CLARA: Has Percy ever been in the Eastminster Dog Show? 

OLIVIA: He has not.

CLARA: Well… neither has Gus. But he’s gotten close! And if I have anything to say about it, this will be his year!

OLIVIA: Fascinating stuff. Ms. Martin, do you mind if I ask you a few more questions that aren’t Gus-related?

CLARA: Well that depends… What kind of questions? 

OLIVIA: Just about your feelings on the fire over at the A of A?

CLARA: Hah! Those grouchy louses got what they deserve if you ask me.

OLIVIA: Oh? Why do you say that?

CLARA: They all take themselves so dreadfully serious, don’t you think? The Armada of Amerigo? Even their name is pompous! They act like they’re these beacons of respectability among us common folk, but I have it on good authority that all they did in that place was drink cheap beer and fart on thirty-year-old couch cushions.

OLIVIA: So what were you doing at the time of the fire?

CLARA: Well, I was in the middle of trouncing our delicious specimen of a priest and that blowhard, Justice Walters, in a donut-eating competition before the hysteria over a little fire brought the whole thing to a screeching halt.

OLIVIA: I take it that won’t be terribly hard to verify.

CLARA: I was knuckle deep in jelly doughnuts in front of half the festival attendees, dear. Speaking of—why are you sniffing around about this anyway? From what I heard, this case was open and shut.

OLIVIA: (deep sigh) That’s what I keep hearing, but if the client says it doesn’t check out then I’ve at least got to entertain the idea that it could’ve been caused by arson.

CLARA: Ooo, arson? Have you spoken to little Andrew Servidone? He’s in St. Patrick’s Youth Group, and the little boy has become quite the firebug this year. Thirteen detentions this year alone for dropping cherry bombs in the boy’s locker room toilets.

OLIVIA: You’re not the first person to bring him up today…

CLARA: I wouldn’t imagine that I would be. Honestly, seems like the obvious culprit to me, but the boy’s mom is the town’s fire marshall’s cousin, so there’s a bit of… let’s say, a vested interest in protecting him.

OLIVIA: Noted. 

[SFX: The sound of footsteps approaching.]

MITCHELL: Hey, Ms. Onion Rings! Andy just got here.

OLIVIA: Did he now?

CLARA: That he did.

[SFX: A quick double percussive cut as we hear the sound of coffee pouring one more time.]

ANDREW: Uh, thank you kindly, miss. But I’m more of a River Fog, Soco Smash kinda guy. 

OLIVIA: Come again?

ANDREW: You know, that soda you can only get at Enchilada Gong?

OLIVIA: I’m familiar, yes. You’re Andrew Servidone, right?

ANDREW: Yeah, who’s asking, toots?

OLIVIA: My name is Olivia Inwood. You’ve probably never heard of me, but I’m Susan Tubbles’ assistant.

ANDREW: Susan who-now?

OLIVIA: Tubbles. She’s the local P.I. I’ve heard some rumblings around town that you might know a little bit about what happened over at the A of A last week?

ANDREW: Hoof. Honestly? I wish. That was beautiful work, but a bit more extravagant than I’m known for.

OLIVIA: But you do admit to having a bit of a predilection towards lighting fires, no? 

ANDREW: I’ve been known to light off a bottle rocket or two in my time, yes. But I don’t see why that’d make you suspect me of something so… impressive.

OLIVIA: Just doing my due diligence, bud.

ANDREW: I respect that, ma’am. *sarcastic* You are doing the town a vital public service by looking into this matter. But I assure you, I am innocent of the crime.

OLIVIA: Mind telling me where you were when it got started then?

ANDREW: I wouldn’t mind at all! I was supposed to be helping Lexi run donuts for the Festival, but I got a text from my girlfriend, Tanna, that she had the house to herself and I booked it over there.

OLIVIA: (a little put off by his forthrightness but also suspicious) That seems like an awfully convenient alibi for someone with a reputation like yours.

ANDREW: Maybe so, but I’ve got the receipts to prove it if you need them. Besides, you’ve gotta remember how rare of an opportunity that was for us, two teens finding some alone time in the privacy of our own home. You aren’t that old.

OLIVIA: (begrudgingly) No, I’m not. 

[SFX: There’s a set of approaching footsteps.]

BRETT: Ms. Inwood. How nice of you to stop by to help volunteer at our humble fundraiser this morning.

OLIVIA: Admiral, I wondered if I’d see you here today.

BRETT: Of course, you would! This little shindig is benefitting the reconstruction of the A of A Lounge *chokes up* and bowling alley, isn’t it?

OLIVIA: That it is.

BRETT: I saw you chatting with my mischievous boy, Andrew, here and figured I’d come say hi. He’s behaving himself, I hope?

ANDREW: (suddenly an angel) Don’t I always?

BRETT: (laughing) I wouldn’t go that far!

OLIVIA: (forced) He is, he is… but I did happen to hear a little rumor that he’s got a bit of a pension for setting things on fire. So I figured I’d cover all my bases for you and Roger, Mr. Servidone.

BRETT: (chuckling) Why, of course, he does! Who do you think raised him? He’s a bit of a firebug like his father before him, but I think cherry bombs are a far cry away from arson, don’t you? 

OLIVIA: (forced cheer) They certainly are.

BRETT: In my humble opinion, a little scientific curiosity does a boy good. Isn’t that right, son?

ANDREW: (cheery) That’s what you always say, Dad!

BRETT: But please, don’t hold back on my account! His mother and I pride ourselves on raising a respectful young man who’s always happy to cooperate with the authorities. He’s already been interviewed extensively by the police, but I’m sure he wouldn’t mind speaking with you too.

ANDREW: Not at all!

OLIVIA: That’s it for now, Mr. Servidone. But Andrew?

ANDREW: Yes?

OLIVIA: I’d be careful about how you’re describing what happened to the A of A. Especially if your father’s in earshot. That was an important building to him and the other members of the club. It’d be an awful shame for him to know how impressive its destruction was to you.

BRETT: Andrew! This is nothing to be joking about. Lord knows how much this tragedy has affected our family…

ANDREW: (nervous) I was only kidding, Dad.

BRETT: (to Olivia, still cheery) Don’t worry, Ms. Inwood. You won’t hear any more sass out of my little comedian here. I’ll make sure of that.

OLIVIA: (sarcastic) Glad to hear you’re on top of it!

[SFX: Two more percussive drum hits play as we hear coffee pouring one final time.]

MARGARET: That’s enough, dear.

SUSAN: Mm, mm, mm Margaret. Say what you will about Father Ben, but the boy makes a mean flapjack.

MARGARET: (chuckling) If you say so, Tubbles. I thought they were a little dry.

SUSAN: Syrup usually helps with that! (beat) Olivia, dear! How’s coffee duty been treating you?

OLIVIA: (through gritted teeth) Educational. Though I might’ve been able to learn a whole lot more if you’d helped.

MARGARET: Jeez! There sure must be a whole lotta scoops for that fancy website of yours in this town…

SUSAN: Oh, Margie, I didn’t know you’d met my new assistant!

OLIVIA: We’ve crossed paths once or twice.

MARGARET: Neither did I! As far as I was told, she was interviewing our intrepid young Father Ben for CatholicNews.com…

SUSAN: Hmm. I’ll have to get my hands on a copy of that article. Must be something juicy in it.

MARGARET: Don’t bother, I already tried, came up empty-handed.

OLIVIA: (awkwardly) Yeah… uh, my editor passed on that one. Too similar to a story another writer had already pitched.

SUSAN: Are you ready to head back to the office, dear?

OLIVIA: (too eagerly) Yes. 

[SFX; Susan and Margaret chuckle at her discomfort.]

MARGARET: Aw, off so soon? I thought we’d have another round!

SUSAN: You know this town, Margie! When duty calls, I answer!

[SFX: Another two drum beats as Susan and Olivia leave the church basement and come out into the open air of the morning.]

SUSAN: So, Ol, what’d you learn?

OLIVIA: Well, Mitchell, Bill, and Clara were all nonstarters. But the Vice Admiral’s got a kid with a bit of a pension for firecrackers, so that might be something. Brett came by and shut down that conversation before I could get too deep in it though.

SUSAN: See! You can get a lot out of the people of this town if you endear yourself to them first.

OLIVIA: I know I can, but what about you? Did you really need to spend an entire hour talking to that old bat?

SUSAN: Hey! Margie’s a close personal friend, thank you very much.

OLIVIA: Oh good, so I was the only one working this morning.

SUSAN: I didn’t say that, did I?

OLIVIA: No, I guess you didn’t…

SUSAN: The morning of the Donut Festival, Margaret was minding her own business when she saw Joe Walters get up in Roger’s face right in front of the A of A…

[SFX: We shift back to the gentle sounds of the morning during the season premiere.]

JOE: (heated) Listen, Roger, I know you and I have never quite seen eye to eye with each other, but I trust my wife is in good hands with your facilities today? 

ROGER: Don’t worry, Your Honor. I’ll make sure the homewrecker is taken care of.

JOE: What did you just say to me?!

ROGER: First your daughter and now your second wife? I’m shocked you even bother showing your face around here anymore, with all the shame your family’s brought on this town.

JOE: (seething, raising his voice) You keep their names out of your mouth, jackass. I’m not afraid of you or your little gaggle of wannabe sailors, and I’d be more than happy to use my influence to dismantle your precious club, brick by brick.

[SFX: Before we can hear Roger’s response, Susan returns.]

SUSAN: That’s all she caught before Father Klem pulled her off on some errand, but it makes you think. 

OLIVIA: Hnh. That is interesting, isn’t it?

SUSAN: Let that be a lesson to you. You can pound the pavement, all you want, but unless you develop a real rapport with the community you’re serving? Don’t expect to find any easy answers, anywhere.

OLIVIA: I’ll keep that in mind.

SUSAN: Good. See that you do. Because this case isn’t closed yet.

[MUSIC: Law & Order style version of the theme plays again over the credits.]

ADAM RAYMONDA: Forgive Me! is a Rogue Dialogue production. This episode was written and directed by Jack Marone and Bob Raymonda.

Here’s our cast in order of appearance: 
Emily Elizabeth Oliva
Mama Bang Bang Susan Tubbles
Casey Callaghan Father Ben
Danyelle Ellett Lisa
Sawyer Green Mitchell
Jordan Cobb Raven
David S Dear Natasia
Krystal Osborn Clara
Dallas Hawthorn Andrew
Michael Antico Brett
Ann Sweet Margaret
Michael Larkin Joe Walters
Bob Frame Roger

Script editing by Jordan Stillman.

Dialogue Editing by Bob Raymonda.

Sound design, score, and mixing by Adam Raymonda.

All of the graphic design comes from Sam Twardy.

Season three of Forgive Me! Would not be the same without our Executive Producer Curtis Dibrell Jr.

Find out about what we’re up to by following @forgivemeshow on Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter.

This season we’ve got a 13-episode Patreon-exclusive series called Confessions with Klem! Our Patrons will glance into the secrets of the St. Patrick’s community with everyone’s favorite witty nihilistic Priest.

Next week, patrons will hear a parishioner named Al come in to talk to Klem about a deep family secret, but only after Klem razzes Al a bit:

FR. KLEM: Well it’s not like you were of any use.

AL: Hey, I never said I was good for anything but eye-candy.

FR. KLEM: With your ugly mug?!? 

AL: I also never said I had good eyesight. 

FR. KLEM: Alright, alright.

To get access to this Patreon-exclusive series as well as an ad-free version of our feed, become a supporting parishioner over at patreon.com/roguedialogue. That’s patreon.com/roguedialogue.

Are you enjoying the show? If you did - follow it on your favorite podcast player. If you REALLY enjoyed it rate and review it on Podchaser or Apple Podcasts. 

That’s it for now! We’ll see you back here in two weeks for episode five.