02x11 - Fifty Shades of Grey Matter

Previously on iZombie...

Peyton: I need everything you can tell me about Mr. Boss' crime organization.

Man: The media's calling you the Chaos Killer.

The vic who went missing in Seward Park... we just learned that his pooch had one of those GPS tracking devices.

This man is dying, and your first thought is to bring him here?

He's the only person who knows where to find tainted Utopium.

I can't make the cure without more tainted Utopium.

I guess I should thank you for saving my life.

We have two bodies packed full of tainted Utopium buried in a shallow grave.

Ravi: We can narrow the location to a single 100 acre field.

John Deaux? I'm agent Dale Bozzio.

Who's this?

Suspect in the Meat Cute Massacre.

I just met him. This is our guy!


Can I help you?

I'm just using the computers.

Do you need the Wi-Fi password?

What have I told you? Out.

For real? Come on...

Do I need to call security?




Snuff films.


You're not leaving all that shelving for me to do again, are you?

I'm so sorry, I'm just not feeling too great.

Would it be awful if I left early?


Thank you.


Hey! Stop that!

Get down from there!

I'm calling the police!

That kid was trying to tip the shelves on to you, I think.

He what?


Uh... Please cover your mouth!

Oh, my!




Meet Grace LeGare.

Victim of hemlock poisoning.

She was a librarian, collapsed at work three days ago.

She's been in hospital since. Died, obviously.

Liv: But doctors couldn't figure out the underlying cause.

She's 30 and otherwise healthy. Makes no sense.

So they send her to us.

And she might've been categorized a "respiratory failure" due to "unknown."

But... But Ravi figured it out and he's super desperate for an attaboy.


All I'm saying is, a lesser pathologist might have missed trace amounts of stool in her intestines, which contained trace amounts of water hemlock.

What do we know about hemlock?

Well, I believe it was Socrates who said of hemlock, "I drank what?"

Claudius kills Hamlet Senior with a drop of hemlock in his ear.

Will one of you give me a hand signal or something when you're about to say something useful?

Hemlock is a leafy plant. Highly lethal.

It can be slipped into a salad, a tea, a green smoothie...

In the morning I'll drop in on the husband, Andy LeGare.

You free?

To see the poor man hear that his wife didn't just die, she was murdered?

Seeing his first reaction to the news will tell us a lot about him.

Like if he's surprised we figured it out.


Whoa! Sorry, boys, no visitors tonight.

Boss' orders.

He's expecting me.

That might be true, but we got conflicting stories here.

Because just 10 minutes ago, he told me not to let anyone in.

Now, I'd say that request is, uh, pretty fresh.

Straight out of the oven, piping hot.


Thoughts? Feelings?

I feel like you're a punk-ass and you better watch yourself.

You know, I'm working on that.

My ex says I put a wall up in my interpersonal relationships...

Yo, Mouth, our stash house got raided tonight again.

Unless Boss is down with donating 100 G's worth of product to the cops on the reg, he's gonna wanna know there's a leak in his crew. Move!

I'd be happy to pass the message along to our man, but any other options don't end pretty. Sorry.

Do you know who I am?

A big Danny Trejo fan?

Better do your math, son.

There's three of us and there's one of you.

You're right. You're right, man. I'm sorry.

I really should've...




Bad day at school, kiddo?

Yeah, I nearly just got my ass handed to me.

Boss' guys figured out there's a rat.

And there's only so much time before they know it's me.

You keep feeding so much to the DA, you're gonna get me killed.

I hear you, man, I know you're in a tough spot.

But this is us striking while the iron is hot.

Boss is on the ropes, can't let up now.

Soon all that was his will be, um, well, mine.


Liv: Would you look at that. No garden full of wife poison.

There's always the backyard.

Besides, if the hubby wanted to be smart about it, he'd grow his hemlock off the premises.

I've got a good feeling about this husband.

This news is going to destroy him.


Mr. LeGare, I'm Detective Clive Babineaux, Seattle PD.

Oh, I'm not... I'm Todd.

Andy's home health aide.

Come on in.

Andy, you have visitors.

Hey, uh...

They're from the police department.

Hi. What's going on?

Mr. LeGare, I have some bad news.

Someone poisoned your wife.

What are you saying? Grace was murdered?

Yes, sir. I'm sorry.

Oh, God.


You're saying somebody deliberately poisoned Grace?

With water hemlock. It's a leafy green plant, it can easily be snuck into food.

Are you growing anything like that, sir?


No, my gardening days are behind me.

Todd does everything except wipe my nose.

That's a great photo.


I'm sorry, can I ask how...

Sure. I was a firefighter.

Five years ago, I was out on a call, a support beam collapsed, flattened me.

Causedus burst fracture in my L1.

I'm sorry.


Clive: Mr. LeGare, is it possible your wife had enemies?

Enemies? No.

There was a woman at work...

Uh, Muriel.

The librarian Grace worked with?

Yeah. She was no picnic.

Grace used to complain about her all the time.

Clive: Did she get specific?

Andy: She'd look over her shoulder when she was using the computers, you know?

Grace used to say the...



Oh, Grace couldn't wait to get away from Muriel.

As soon that advance money came in, she was gonna quit.

I'm sorry... advance money?

Grace just sold a novel.


She had a dream and she made it happen.

Major publisher. Book tour. The whole deal.

Book comes out in a couple weeks.

Out of curiosity, what kind of book did Grace write?


Clive: About this Muriel...


Clive: I'm afraid so.

And according to Grace's husband, you're the only enemy she had.

Me? He thinks I killed Grace?

(SCOFFS) I always tried to be friendly with Andy.

But not Grace.

Grace used work time inappropriately and when I caught her, I'd reprimand her.

Inappropriately how?

She'd work on her book.

And that's frowned on?

I'm a writer too, and I would never expect taxpayers to fund my private activities.

Grace was getting a big advance for her book.

Did that cause friction?

You're asking me if I was jealous?


You must not know what kind of book Grace was writing.

A romance novel.

That's one way to describe it.

Ah. This is Grace's pre-release copy of her audiobook.

Have a listen.

Liv: "The Upright Position, as read by Kristen Bell."

I've always felt a kind of connection to her.


Kristen Bell: (on headphones) He tore off my scarf, a savage beast in heat. "You've been a bad little bitch, haven't you?" My breasts heaved against the cool, molded plastic of the airplane's instruments. He pressed his maleness against me. "Sonja," he growled, husky with passion. "I'm gonna show you why they call it a cockpit."

Honey, I'm home.

Oh, good.

Tell me librarian brain has filled you with an urge to create order out of chaos.

Our medical files are a mess.

I've been a bad morgue attendant.

I'll understand if there are punitive measures.

Liv, did you eat a librarian from a porno?

I am so sorry.

She wrote erotica and I can barely keep it in my pants.

Then you think about something sacred, like your mum.

Or something gross, like Margaret Thatcher.

What do American boys think about?

Baseball, I guess?

Then think about baseball.

Go forth, direct your lust elsewhere.


Drake: Liv.

God help me.

I'm glad you're here.

I would've called but I don't have your number.



You okay?

Sorry, Drake. It's the brains.

You got some time for a little zombie-to-zombie advice?

Happy to help. What's up?

You know I'm a bouncer, right?

Yeah, well, uh...

This thing happened last night.

There was a fight.

I lost control and I pretty much threw a rowdy customer across the parking lot.

What's that about?

Ravi: Drake!

Got time to leave some blood samples today?

Yeah, sure.

Great, let me...

I'll do it.

Oh, it's no problem.

(FORCEFULLY) I'll do it.

So, losing control, throwing a guy across a parking lot, it sounds like full-on zombie mode.

Eyes go red. Adrenaline pumping.

You'll only go full-on zombie mode when there's a perceived threat to survival.

An acute stress...

An acute stress?

It's a zombie thing.

It's impossible to control.

Okay, uh, well, let me ask you a survival-related question.

Our buddy Blaine...

Not my buddy.

Or mine. But he's got me over a barrel, brain-wise.

He's got me doing odd jobs for him.

Morgue stuff, mainly.

Body pickups, whatever.

That doesn't sound like fun.

No, it's not.

So, here's the thing... if I can't deal with Blaine anymore, you think I could, um... get brains from you?

From here?

I don't really know you.

Oh. No, I totally get it.

I'll make the Blaine situation work.

But I'd like to know you.


Just say when.

I hate tea. Burnt water with plants in it.

Some dick took the last K-cup.


I'd throw this on your lap if I wasn't going to use it later.


What do we got?

This is the guy you spoke with at the funeral home, right?

John Deaux?

Dale: Definitely.

He's the guy I met at Meat Cute.

But Suzuki didn't write "John Deaux" on the walls of Meat Cute in his own blood.

He wrote "Blaine."

I'm gonna go out on a limb and say John Deaux is an alias.

What did the records say?

Last year, Deaux applied for a business license.

Before that, the man didn't exist.

What about school records, Social, DMV fingerprinting?

All mysteriously unavailable.

Someone's protecting him here in Seattle.

So we use FBI resources.

Get the mother of all databases on it.

And then we bust this S.O.B.

And then victory s*x. High five!

Good news on the Chaos Killer case.

The kidnapped tech guy whose dog has a GPS tracker?

I got through the red tape, we're turning the tracker on tonight.

Oh, let me know when, I'll ride along.

It's a long shot, but who knows?

Maybe the dog will lead us right to the Chaos Killer.

Major Lilywhite.

Who's a pretty boy?

Minor should be ready by 7:00.

You're still at the same address and phone number?

Yep. You know where to find me.


Come on, let's go.

Come! Good boy!


Okay. Mmm. Date on Thursday. Tell me about this guy.

He's got these thick biceps that stretch the cottony limits of his T-shirt.


He's got a scar on his face that speaks of sin.

This is a man who knows when to take a woman by the back of her neck and...


Sorry. I'm on horny-librarian-slash-erotica-novelist brain.

Is your erotica novelist any good?

I'll read you some.

It's about this porny flight attendant who's down for anything.

Grace LeGare... "Your search did not match any products?"

Upright Position.

Bingo! Written by Emmanuelle LeFevre?

Pen name, I guess.

Okay. "'Turn around and face me,' he orders."


"I do what I'm told. I know I'm in trouble. It frightens me, and thrills me. Johnny leers at the cotton dress clinging to my hips and breasts. He demands... "

You are not going out dressed like that.

You're gonna put something on that's not gonna make all my friends want to nail you.

Oh. Welcome back.

Okay. I'm pre-ordering this book.

You're not the only one in a dry spell.

Liv: Still not hopping on your always-the-spouse-bandwagon, but Grace's husband, Andy?

Clive: Yeah...

Super possessive.

I had a vision of him laying into her for wearing a fairly standard summer dress.

What are you considering fairly standard these days?

A good man admires his wife's beauty, he doesn't slut shame her.

Speaking of "good men," I did a background on him.

You know how he ended up in that wheelchair?

Oh, he said a beam fell on him.

After he ran back into a burning building to save a six-year-old.

Well, he was still the jealous type.

And I saw online that somewhere between receiving the audio book approval copy and when she was murdered, Grace replaced her name on the book with a pen name.

Maybe her husband wasn't as cool with Grace's book as he's letting on.

Let's go pay him a visit.

She took her name off the book?

Grace never mentioned it?

I mean, we talked about it.

Grace was worried about the book being under her name if we had kids one day.

I mean, it's kind of dirty.

Do you think your wife might have been writing about her own sexual fantasies, using a sexy stewardess as her proxy?

I don't know.

(CLEARS THROAT) Maybe? I mean, it can't have been easy being married to...

Mr. LeGare, do you mind if we take a look at your backyard?

Stone patio in the back, grass in the front. Nowhere to grow hemlock.

Maybe he bought it.

I've scoured the darkest parts of the Internet.

All I could find were some seeds on a witchcraft website.


But you still gotta grow 'em.

Sexy flight attendant.

Excuse me, ma'am?

Clive Babineaux, Seattle PD, this is Liv Moore with the Medical Examiner's Office.

Alyssa Tramell.

We're looking into the murder of Grace LeGare.

Did you know she'd written a book that she was getting published?

Of course. She was thrilled about it.

Did you know it was about the erotic adventures of a sexy flight attendant?

Hey, baby...


Oh, they're from the police. They're looking into Grace's murder.

Oh. It's awful, isn't it?

This is my husband.

Did you need anything else?

Here's my card.

If you think of anything, don't hesitate to call.

Or if we don't hear from you, maybe we'll drop back by.

Thank you, Detectives.

Why do people bury license plates?

Do they think cars are going to grow out of the ground?

All this digging in a field, and still no tainted Utopium, but I have license plates from 30 states.

I'm booked tomorrow, but I can do the day after.

Have you guys ever wrestled?

Stripped down, oiled up, seen who winds up on top?

Have we?

Strangely enough, no.

Night's young.

Sorry. Porny librarian sneaking through.

It's just you two...

Oh. Oopsie.

Liv. Our flight attendant neighbor just reached out.

You available if she comes in now?



If you do wrestle, film it.

A change of plans. That was Bozzio.

Your lover?

FBI Agent Bozzio.

We'll bring the flight attendant tomorrow.

I've gotta follow up on this GPS thing, they finally turned it on.

Good luck.

He really fills out those fitted shirts, huh?



What's the GPS thing?

One of the missing rich guys had a dog.

And the dog has a GPS tracker and they turned it on.

They're hoping it leads them to the Chaos Killer.

(EXHALES) Well...

Gotta run, kids. Duty calls.

Why leave now? It's rush hour.

All the more reason.

Ugh. Why is the little dot not coming up?

Clive: You gotta tap reload to make it...

Dale: Did you hear that?


It sounded like a man who's never used this app in his life trying to mansplain.

You asked me.



We got it.

Signal's locked. Looks like it's holding still.

Good. Traffic's bad, it's gonna take 10 minutes.

Hello? Hello?


Are you all right?

Hey, I'm fine, I just need my dog.

Oh, he's not quite ready yet.

(SHOUTING) Just give me my dog!

(STAMMERING) Hey, hold on! I'm sorry.

I don't mean to yell. It's just, uh...

Minor is stolen.

I stole him.


I'm a personal trainer. Okay?

Minor belonged to a guy I was training. A cop.

But the cop abused him, beat him.

Oh, my God.

I know it's scary, but I need you to cover for me.

Please, just give me Minor, and when the cops show up, I was never here.

The police?

You want me to lie...


Please. This guy is a monster.

We close?

We're right on top of it.

(PANTING) Okay. Here we go.

Here we go. Here's daddy.

Come on, sweetheart. There you go.

Thank you.

Oh, come on, man, you're telling me the rich tech guru didn't spring for the microchip implant?

The tracker's not in the dog?

You're holding it.

It's in the dongle.

We're not far from the park where our missing tech guru was abducted.

The kidnapper probably tossed it.

You're going to be famous, buddy. Yeah! You know that?


Everyone's looking for you.

Yeah, I know.

This time tomorrow, you'll have a great home, maybe a couple of kids.

I'm sorry, buddy.

I'm gonna miss you.

Ms. Tramell. Thanks for coming in.

Alyssa, please.

And thank you for letting me do this here.

It seemed like you didn't want to answer our questions in front of your husband.

Can you blame me? Grace's book is about me.

I told her about my flings because I felt bad for her.

They were the only s*x life she had.

Only? You mean Andy couldn't?

Worse. Wouldn't.

She's gone without for five years, since his accident.

Five years!

Were you worried people would read her book and figure out it was you?

I knew they would.

A Latina flight attendant named Ally?

How did you get to see the manuscript?

Grace showed me. She wanted me to sign a release, but I wouldn't do it.

A week later, I get a call from her editor, lady's name was Lerna Stern, saying they'd changed the character's name and hair color, and they felt confident enough to go ahead and publish without my release.

Did Grace offer to use a pen name? Help disguise you that way?

A pen name? Are you kidding?

Getting that book published was her dream.

Do you have the number for Grace's editor saved on your phone?

Ladies room?

Through those doors. To the right.


Men are always so phallocentric, Clive. Why is that?

Just are.

Ms. Stern. This is Clive Babineaux, Seattle PD.

I'm investigating the murder of Grace LeGare.

I thought it was an accident.

I'm afraid she was murdered. Hemlock poisoning.

Was hemlock sprinkled in her salad?

Ma'am, would you, uh... Could you repeat that?

I asked if the hemlock was sprinkled in her salad.

Why do you ask?

A few weeks back, Grace sent me a manuscript by a friend of hers.

A murder mystery.

The death was hemlock poisoning.

Was the author Muriel Fletcher?

Wow. Yeah. That's right.

I think we can get a search warrant for Muriel's off this.

Calderon's getting Utopium, plus the oxy he was handling already.

And he'll be taking deliveries from the Blue Cobras.

That is the primo Utopium supply point in all of our fair city.


This is gold you're giving me, Deaux.

Nah. Just the humble wit and wisdom of a reformed U slinger.

The mayor wouldn't be sending free booze if your info was humble.

That's from the mayor?


"Keep up the good work. You're a credit to your gender."

Well, looks like she means it. This is quality stuff.

I couldn't have done this without you.

You want in?


You did not do time in a Colombian prison.

All right. We're cutting you off.


Costa Rica. And it was more of a drunk tank than a prison.

Still, it sounds made up.

Oh, it's all true.

My cousin Timmy and I flew down to Tamarindo after graduation.

One night, Tim and I are getting yacked up on kamikazes at this bar.

We're running up a tab.

And at some point, one of us reaches for our wallet, it's gone.

We'd both been pickpocketed.

So you got busted trying to walk a check?

That's not really badass.

Patience. All right? Now, the pedicab driver that delivered us to this dive is getting more blitzed at the bar than us.

So I walk outside, I steal the pedicab, I drive American tourists around for three hours, I make 80 bucks, and I walk back in the bar.

Grand theft bicycle.

That would have been way cooler, but no.

The cop arrested me for operating a cab without a license.


You expected a "no" when you asked me if I've ever been arrested, didn't you?

I didn't ask if you'd been arrested.

I asked if you'd ever been handcuffed.

No! Wait!

(GASPS) I'm taking advantage of you.

I don't think that's true.

Wait. I roofied you with horny librarian brain.

That's a first.


Oh, she hadn't gotten laid in years.

This really isn't me.

This isn't, uh, far from me.

Really, I would've been willing pre-brain. Pre-zombie.

Pretty much any time after my 12th birthday.


Here's the plan.

If we're still interested when this brain wears off a bit, we can pick up where we left off.

But right now, we can't do this.

(CLEARS THROAT) Story of my life.

Zombie date sends me away until horny brain wears off.




I don't know why I do it, but it started in college.

I'm not hearing it.



Hmm. It's just whiskey.

And I don't...

I don't know what it is, (IN A SOUTHERN ACCENT) but it makes me drunk southern.



(IN A SOUTHERN ACCENT) What about champagne?

(IN A FRENCH ACCENT) Do you go French?

Ooh! What about tequila?

Oh, God, no. You do not want to know what happens to me when I drink tequila.

I'm pretty sure I do.

No. No.


As for me...

(IN A COCKNEY ACCENT) I go drunk Cockney, I do.


A cuppa mudder's ruin, luv, an it's all "Varder those bonnie lallies."

Etcetera, etcetera.


So, this hair...



How much product do you got working in here?

It's just a dollop of pomade and I'm out the door.



I think you put some serious time into this look.

Well, we can't all look like we were created in a lab by 14-year-old boys, can we?



Oh, God.


Little white flowers in an umbrella pattern. Use gloves.

Muriel Fletcher. This is a warrant to search your property.

(STAMMERING) On what grounds?

You failed to mention that a character in your novel eats a hemlock salad.

You had access to Grace's lunch.

You were jealous.

Grace wrote pornography.

If that's success, I want no part of it.

Is that why you asked Grace to give your manuscript to her publishers?

Sir. You've gotta see this.

Yes. Yes, I garden. But I don't grow hemlock.

And my book is nothing like Grace's murder!

The publisher sent the PDF.

"The little fool had no idea I put hemlock in her salad.

"There she sat, her molars mashing the leaves into the shape of her destiny."

Grace: "The shape of her destiny"?

She wants me to send it to my editor, but I can't do that to Lerna.

Here, let me see that.

Sir, this was in the fireplace.

First thing we saw.

Bound galleys for Grace's book.

I'm guessing you tried to destroy it when you heard we had figured out Grace had to have been poisoned.

All these nasty comments you wrote in the margins speak to motive.

Should've stoked your fire better.

Liv: Clive, look.

In this version, Grace used her real name. And a photograph.

It's not very anonymous...

Is that what I think it is?

Water hemlock.

In the window box of Grace and Andy's house.

I'll be inside, itemizing a bill for the damages to my garden.

In my vision, I saw Grace reading Muriel's book to Andy.

But she wasn't giving it to her editor.

What if Andy sent the book, posing as Grace?

Then uses the book as a blueprint to kill his wife.

Your wife's publisher provided us the email where Grace requested a pen name.

Funny thing, it was from a new account.

One set up from your home while Grace was at work.

You sent that email.

Your nurse Todd confirmed you had a window box planter.

The week before Grace's death, you ordered him to take it down, trash it.

He didn't. He gave it to another one of his patients.

Now we have it.

What do you think the soil analysis is gonna show us?

Water hemlock.

I'm going to be in this chair for the rest of my life.

You know what gets me through my days?

Knowing that people look at me and they see a hero.

You know what I was going to be once that book came out?

The guy who couldn't give it to his wife, so she fantasizes about doing it with everybody else.

Threesomes. French guys.


She didn't cheat on you.

They weren't her stories.

No one's gonna believe that.

I begged her not to publish.

She didn't care.

My wife didn't care.


If this is about your missing tech millionaire's basset hound, I heard someone found him on a bus.

It's not about that dog.

It's about this one.

Deaux's got a record?

And a different name.

DeBeers, comma, Blaine.


We found him.

Gets crazier.

DeBeers is an alias too.

It's a moniker he picked up from some high schoolers he sold beer and pot to with a real winner, Julien DeWeed.

As in "Blaine's got da beers, Julien's got da weed."

That's Julien DeWeed?

AKA Julien Dupont.

You know him?

He was one of the corpses at Meat Cute.

This is the guy Major Lilywhite claimed attacked him.

And that is a completely crazy revelation, but here's the coolest part.

How can what I just said not be the coolest part?


Blaine's real last name is McDonough.

He is the son of Angus McDonough.

Blaine's father is one of the Chaos Killer's victims.

To go with the two other victims, whose phones contained Blaine's number.

Okay. We gotta go slow. It's all circumstantial.

Or we go arrest him right now.

Never mind we don't have any physical evidence connecting him to the crimes.

How much would you like me if I told you Blaine DeBeers has an outstanding warrant for possession with intent to sell?

I'd like you a lot.

Let's put him in jail for a few years. Figure out the rest later.

I'm chafing a little here.

I suppose it's too much to ask for the fuzzy ones?

Clive: You've been read your rights. You've had your phone call.

We spoke a few days ago about your number turning up in the phones of two kidnapping victims.

A couple rando, would-be customers.

I told you, it's a coincidence.

Seems pretty unlikely.

Yeah. That's what "coincidence" means.

So two would-be customers abducted by the Chaos Killer is a coincidence.

What's it called when we add your dad to the list?

A miracle?

Why didn't you mention your father was one of the Chaos Killer's victims, Mr. McDonough?

I didn't know.

We don't talk a whole lot.

It's on the front page.

When did you find out?

Right now. I'm distraught.

I won't rest until the scoundrel is behind bars.

This sketch was based on a description provided by someone you hired at the Meat Cute charcuterie.

Were you there the night of the massacre?

No. I was a part-timer.

But the detective who was killed that night didn't scrawl the names of other part-timers on the wall in blood.

Just yours.

You want to tell me what coincidence means again?


We've met, haven't we?

We have. After that delivery kid went missing, you swung by Meat Cute.

You ever find out what happened to that guy?

Let's focus on you.

But your lovely friend will feel left out.

Which neighborhood are you living in, DB?

So tricky finding the right place to live when you're new in town.

What makes you think I'm new?

I assumed.

You said you were with the FBI, so...

Which neighborhood?

♪ Which neighborhood? ♪

I want to say Ballard.

I knew it. It's a gift.

Watch yourself.

I'm sorry.

I didn't mean to upset your girl.

Not to say that I know she's your girl.

I'm just assuming from the chemistry which is en fuego.

That drug charge of yours has a 10-year max sentence.

And once we let a judge know everything you've been up to... you can mail us some of these threats from prison.

This interview is over. I need you to cut him loose.

Ms. Charles?

Who the hell is this?

Assistant District Attorney Peyton Charles.

The warrant is void. He has immunity in exchange for his cooperation in a case.

(EXHALES) We need to talk.

(SOFTLY) Okay.

Hang tight.

You look good on a white horse.

What the hell is happening here, Peyton?

Why are you protecting this creep?

Look, the four-year-old drug charges?

I mean, they're meaningless compared to the information he's giving us.

Look, I promise, he is more valuable to me than he is you.

Besides, he's reformed. He's a business owner.

He's the Chaos Killer.

What do you have?

His number, stored in the phones of two of our victims.

It's thin.

Plus, one of the victims was his dad.

He mention anything about his dad going missing while you were deposing him?

We also like him for the Meat Cute Massacre.

That case was solved.

Yeah, officially, maybe.

But this is a police sketch done from Liv's little brother's description of the man who hired him.

The detective killed that night at Meat Cute?

He wrote that man's name in blood on the walls.

That guy in there, that guy you granted immunity to, has murdered a dozen people.

Unless you have enough to book him for either of these crimes, I need you to turn him loose.


What happens next is on you.



Peyton? What's wrong?

Do you know who this is?

Come inside.

Why are you showing me a photo of Blaine?

He's dangerous. Stay away from him.

That's not an option.

He's my star witness against Mr. Boss.

He's pretty much the whole case.

Peyton, he killed Lowell.

He tried to kill Major. He got Evan blown up.

He turned me into a zombie.

He murdered God knows how many homeless teenagers and sold their brains to zombies as food.

What's going on?

I slept with him.

I didn't know who he was.

I had no idea. I'm sorry.

It's okay.


It's okay.


Minor, guess who found some bones!


Good night of making rich white people less fat?

(CHUCKLES) Yeah, it's God's work, what I do.

Where's Minor?

Gone, I'm afraid.

Gone? Gone where?

I saw a missing dog flyer on a telephone pole with a photo of Minor.

So I called the number, the owners swung by and picked him up.


They must've been thrilled.

Yeah. Happy ending.

Bummer for us, though.

Yeah, I do wish I could've said goodbye.

Oh, I'm sorry. I just...

You know, they got here so fast.

I should, uh, head home and take a Silkwood shower.

Are you sure you're okay?




You know, you sleep with someone, you think you know them.

But they could be anybody.

Good night.


Everything okay?