Someone taps away at an old-fashioned typewriter as a man with an American accent narrates. "New York. City of a million stories. Half of them are true. The other half just haven't happened yet." What is with the framing devices this season? Was there a sale at Cliché Depot? It's a woman's hands doing the typing, but a guy doing the talking. Does this guy even exist or is he merely a construct of the as-yet-unknown author so she can set up the story? The male narrator is a private investigator named Garner. He's been contacted by a Mr. Grayle regarding some statues that come to life in the dark. Garner doesn't really believe his new client, but he'll take the case for a whopping $25 a day. As if it weren't already obvious from the typewriter, we are in the Olden Days. He heads out into the rain with his riches. As he passes by a pair of statues, one of them vanishes.
Garner heads off to an apartment building where the statues supposedly live. Our lady author types and Garner narrates. "Grayle was the scariest guy I knew. If something scared him, I kinda wanted to shake its hand." I won't mention every instance of the appearance of statues in this episode, but they're everywhere. They're poised as gargoyles, perched in parks, holding up urns in fountains. The building doors open as Garner approaches. Inside, the elevator doors open as if anticipating him. He's creeped out, but gets inside. Upstairs, he comes to a door marked with his own name. When he looks around inside, he finds an ID card identical to the one in his own wallet. An old man beckons to him from his bedroom. "They're coming for you. They're going to send you back," he says. "Who's coming? Back where?" Garner asks. "Back in time," the old man says. "I'm you," he goes on. "I'm you!" With that, the old version of Garner dies.
Young Garner tries to get the hell away, but the hallway is suddenly blocked off by Weeping Angels. He tries the stairs and finds the route down blocked, as well. He makes a run for the rooftop. The earth shakes a few times. "You gotta be kidding me," Garner says, finding himself face to face with the snarling rictus of the Statue of Liberty. As per the rules previously established by this show, she somehow got from Liberty Island to Battery Park without anybody looking at (and thus immobilizing) her. The lady author types a chapter title at the top of the page: "The Dying Detective." Cue opening credits.
We return to the present day. "I'm an alien, I'm a legal alien," Sting sings. "I'm an Englishman in New York." I'm not saying it's on the nose, or anything, but it's hanging out somewhere around the nostril. Amy, Rory and the Doctor hang out in Central Park on a lovely sunny day. Amy tries to read the paper in silence, but the Doctor is annoying her by reading a pulp novel aloud: "New York growls at my window, but I was ready for it. My stocking seams were straight, my lipstick was combat ready and I was packing cleavage that could fell an ox at 20 feet." I haven't met many oxen, granted, but I feel like they probably don't care one way or the other about lady boobs. The Doctor, however, seems quite taken with this fictional private detective named Melody Malone, giving her description a "yowza!" of approval. "Only you could fancy someone in a book," Rory says. Um... what? The Doctor changes the subject by snitting about Amy's new reading glasses, which he thinks makes her eyes look wrinkly. He lifts them up to get a better look at her and realizes that, oops, it's not the glasses doing that. Also: Amy totally doesn't have wrinkles. Rory scampers away to get out of the conversation and get them all some coffee.