03x07 - Off the Record

[bunniefuu]

Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr.

Getty.

What...?

What happened?

Just a little brush with death.

You had us worried there for a while.

Oh.

Is my wife here?

No.

I'm sorry, you haven't had any visitors.

Well...

we have been having some trouble lately.

But you know what?

Second chance on life.

Maybe it's not too late to turn things around.

No, you wouldn't.

No.

So, sorry to shag and run, darling, but, uh, I'll see you next time.

All right.

Ah.

Lovely.

Who the hell does he think he is?

Lucifer Morningstar.

You're serious?

That's his name?

What kind of idiot calls himself that?

The kind who owns this place.

Don't think I haven't noticed you watching me.

I know what this is about.

You do?

Yes, and the answer is no.

I will not sleep with you.

Excuse me?

It's not because you're a man.

It's just because...

Well, I don't find you attractive.

But maybe I could introduce you to someone more, you know, your league?

There's a chubby fellow over there.

I'm sure he wouldn't mind giving you a reach-around or something.

I'm married...

to a woman, thank you very much.

Oh.

Does she know you're gay?

My wife, who's the smartest and funniest person I ever met, and the only woman that I've ever loved, is sleeping with another man.

A sleazy, arrogant, womanizing piece of garbage.

Well, then, why are you wasting time trying to pick me up?

You should be punishing him.

Oh, don't worry.

I'm going to.

Oh, are you?

Great.

What are you gonna do, spoons to the eyes?

Ants inside his urethra?

A Urethra Franklin, as I like to call it.

I think I'm just gonna punch him in the face.

Well, that's not enough for someone who stole your wife.

- You're right.

- Yeah.

You should destroy him.

Tear his very life apart piece by piece.

And normally, I'd help you do that, but I've picked up a new hobby recently.

Detective!

Detective?

Yes.

LAPD, and I'm a consultant.

You?

You work with the police?

Started a couple of weeks ago.

It's quite fun, actually.

Hey, you know, I've been trying to reach you.

Detective, meet my new friend.

Uh...

- Uh, Reese.

- Hi.

Ah.

Owner of the pieces.

Good to meet you.

Uh, sorry to interrupt, but I need my consultant to sober up and join me at a crime scene.

Oh, sounds lovely.

All right.

Nice meeting you.

Yes.

Oh.

Good luck with the punishing.

Hey, boss, I got something.

Sleeping in your office again?

No, I'm working on my new story.

It's about a shady nightclub owner.

My top investigative reporter wants me to approve a piece about overpriced booze and go-go dancers?

No, no, it's a con man.

On paper, didn't even exist five years ago.

Tells everyone he's the Devil.

So he's a weirdo.

I don't see a story.

He's consulting for the LAPD.

I've got a bad feeling this guy's up to no good.

Remember the last time I had a bad feeling?

How can I forget your Pulitzer when you won't stop reminding me?

This son of a bitch is hiding something.

Who he is, how he's exploiting the police.

Whatever it is, the people deserve to know the truth.

Bringing this guy down, there wouldn't be a personal reason behind it, would there?

No.

Of course not.

Lucifer!

Reese.

Excuse me.

What are you doing here?

Have you come to tell me about the punishment you delivered?

Probably not best to go into detail in a police station.

No.

After we met last night, I realized how...

fascinating you are.

Oh, well, I can't argue with that.

I'm a journalist for the LA Telegraph.

So I pitched my editor, and she said I could do a piece on you.

No.

What, an entire article dedicated to me?

Right.

Well, let's start with a talk.

Gosh, this'll be fun.

Can you tell me about this guy, Lucifer?

Yeah, he calls himself "the Devil." He helped me out with some gambling debts.

Saved my life.

Five years ago?

I heard he was somewhere terrible down south.

He introduced me to my husband.

And my horse.

Maybe Florida?

It's weird, but this is L.A.

I don't know what to tell you.

I love the guy.

Just love that guy.

Everyone here just loves Lucifer.

I don't like Lucifer.

Really?

For starters, someone's been stealing my pudding.

And I don't think it's a coincidence that it all started when he showed up.

No.

And I'm not exactly in love with the idea of my wife putting herself in danger just so some club owner can have fun playing cop.

You and Detective Decker are married?

We're separated.

Oh, but still, that's got to be hard watching them frolic around in front of you.

I wouldn't say "frolic." Happy to keep this off the record.

Separated is not divorced.

There's still time.

Excuse me.

Hi.

Uh, I know you.

Aren't you the guy from Lux?

Reese Getty, LA Telegraph.

I'm here to write a story about you and Lucifer.

Oh, right.

"Former B-movie Actress Turned Detective Works With a Whack-Job Consultant." Sounds about right.

Yeah.

No thanks.

Detective Chloe Decker.

I did my research.

Hot Tub High School, your dad, I get it.

You don't like the press.

I don't have time for this.

I have work to do that actually contributes to society.

I hate to be the one to break it to you, but your lieutenant and my editor are like this.

I've been assigned to ride along with you, Detective.

So we can either make this a pleasant experience, or we can do it the hard way.

I'll pick the hard way.

So, you just started showing up at crime scenes, and eventually, she let you work with her?

Uh, more or less.

Yeah.

Um, excuse us.

No, no, no, just...

I'll stay out of your way.

Just pretend I'm not here.

Here you go.

What am I supposed to do with these?

Wear them...

like you always do.

- Oh, right, yeah.

- Mm-hmm.

- I don't.

- Hi.

Our victim's name is Poppy Parker.

She owns an organic cosmetics line.

Sort of a local celebrity for all-natural skin care.

And, uh, what are all these?

These are boobs.

Yes, I'd know them anywhere.

C-cups to be precise.

Oh, look at these.

Please don't...

juggle the evidence, Lucifer.

But it's fine if he does, 'cause, you know, they've already been processed.

They're called "fun bags" for a reason.

Actually, this one is a calf implant, so you should have that, Detective Douche.

Looks like you've been skipping leg day.

Yeah, they're very, um, low quality, actually.

More outdated than Dan's flip phone.

Don't think any surgeon in L.A.

would use these.

Hmm.

Okay.

We'll look into it.

Lucifer, he does this.

He notices things that normal people are too...

normal to notice, but it, uh, has a tendency of paying off.

It does.

Why would he do this to someone who values natural beauty?

To punish her?

Well, that is a very good question, Daniel, but as an expert in punishment, because I'm the Devil...

- Hmm.

- This isn't punishment.

This looks like someone making a statement.

Well, maybe you're right.

Needle mark on the lip, bruising around the injection.

This wasn't postmortem.

Poppy wasn't as all-natural as she wanted everyone to believe.

She's a fraud.

Someone wanted to reveal that the people around her can't trust her.

Ah.

If that's the case, I've seen this before.

Oh, very good.

Go, Reese Lightning.

So, Daniel Moore, vegan chef.

Curiously found with raw meat in his mouth.

Ah.

So vegans can't enjoy a healthy sex life?

Tough crowd.

Turns out, he owns a cattle ranch in Montana, and the environmentalist who was found drowned in jet fuel, he actually owned a private plane.

So, someone's k*lling charlatans.

Ah.

The worst kind of scum.

Next to boy bands.

All three victims had trace amounts of the exact same poison in their system.

Same profile, same M.O.

This is a serial k*ller.

Yes.

The Completely Justified k*ller of Phonies.

If that's what you name him, I want credit.

The first scene was found over a month ago.

The environmentalist, a week ago.

And Poppy here was found just a few days later.

I think the k*ller is becoming more obsessed.

He's accelerating his timeline.

We have to catch this guy before anyone else dies.

Why does Lucifer work with you?

I told you, it's an...

unconventional partnership, and it just...

That's not it.

What's he get out of it?

You'll have to ask him.

Hi, hon.

I know you've been avoiding me.

I mean, things have been...

off lately.

But I want to try and turn things around.

Can we talk?

I miss you.

Leave Lucifer Morningstar alone.

Or you'll be too dead to regret it.

I'm onto something, aren't I?

You can't scare me off.

I've been threatened by worse than you.

I guarantee you haven't.

Oh, Mr.

Getty.

I need you to look up this address.

Something shady - going on here.

- O-Okay, but there's, uh...

Got to be a drug den, human trafficking...

Mr.

Getty, your wife's in your office.

Really?

My wife?

How do I look?

Uh...

Reese.

We need to talk.

Linda.

You look...

wow.

We should go to dinner.

Our favorite Italian place is still open.

I'll make reservations.

Reese, why are people in your office calling me your wife?

Because you are my wife.

No.

We're separated.

It's been two years.

That's actually why I'm here.

I have been more than patient, but it's time.

Sign the divorce papers, please.

Is this because you're seeing someone else?

No.

No, this isn't because I'm seeing someone, Reese.

You can't keep leaving me voicemails like that.

Things are not "off lately," things are over.

You need to move on.

I can't move on.

Don't you know how much I love you?

You never give up.

It's one of the reasons I fell in love with you.

But that was a long time ago.

Not that long ago.

This is classic denial.

It's a self-defense mechanism that you...

Don't analyze me, Linda.

Sorry.

We're over.

Sign them.

I'm working on something, and I need a little more time.

Why?

Nothing you're working on is gonna change anything.

24 hours, that's all I'm asking for.

Okay, if I do...

you'll finally sign the papers?

I promise.

Hey.

Did you find anything about that address yet?

It's a known hot spot for trading stolen goods.

I knew he was up to something.

Fencing?

Smuggling?

Or worse?

Well, I can do some research on the building.

No, I need proof right now.

Lucifer's duffel bag.

I need to get it.

Another piano?

What the...?

Uh, uh, don't worry.

I'm gonna get you out of here.

Well, hello.

What the hell are you doing here?

Well, it appears I've caught you sneaking into my penthouse.

So perhaps you should answer that question.

What story are you really looking for, reporter?

I'm gonna expose you for the fraud you are.

And save this woman.

Don't you try and stop me.

I won't.

She might, though.

Who is this guy, Lucifer?

He doesn't seem very fun.

You're not tied up against your will?

Um, no.

I'm pretty into this.

At least I was until you got here.

All right, that doesn't matter.

I know I'm onto something.

Otherwise, why would you send that crazy ninja woman after me?

Crazy ninja wom...

oh, Maze?

No, I didn't send her.

She's just a tad overprotective, that's all.

Demon bartenders, you know how they can be.

What about that pile of cash I saw you give that cop?

Yes, to buy his duffel bag.

Hard to find quality leather with such tensile strength.

The bag.

That's right.

This will prove everything.

What is this?

Are these sex toys?

Edible sex toys, to be precise.

Not exactly FDA approved, so I had to sneak the delicious things through customs.

How could I be so wrong?

About so many things?

Look, I know why you're upset.

You thought you had a nice, juicy scoop for your paper.

And I don't blame you.

You're just doing your job.

Unfortunately for you, the only juicy thing here is the, uh...

Watermelon Willies.

They're pretty good.

You should try one.

- Mm.

- I'm allergic to watermelon.

Oh.

Look, why don't you come with me?

The detective just called with some sort of lead.

I always find catching a k*ller cheers me up.

I mean, I was gonna do Veronica first, but...

you don't mind waiting, do you, darling?

- Not at all.

- Good.

Come on.

Excuse me.

Do you mind?

Thank you.

You were right about the implants.

They were pulled from the market years ago due to rupturing.

Oh, a moment of silence for all those poor, mishandled breasts.

They're illegal to sell anywhere, but we pulled a partial serial number that pointed to a plastic surgeon's office in Beverly Hills.

Wait, you, Scarface?

You resent your clients, don't you?

- I don't...

- You want them to suffer.

I do.

I want all of them to suffer.

Good work on the case.

Realizing that his scar made him resent other people around him...

that was good.

Good detective work.

Reese, you okay?

Reese.

You were right.

About?

I wanted to write a piece that showed that your partnership was a dangerous joke.

That Lucifer was a fraud.

But the truth is he's just frustratingly, annoyingly...

a charming guy.

And you and him...

you two work well together.

There's no story here.

I'm just gonna drop it.

Is this some weird journalist tactic to get me to lower my guard?

I wish.

No, this is just me getting out of the way, so you can do your job.

Catch more K*llers.

Unfortunately, Barry's not our k*ller.

He sold expired medical goods from the office, including some tainted Botox that poisoned a few people.

And although he'll spend a very long time in jail, he's not our guy.

But if he sold supplies to the k*ller, he should know something.

Well, he wouldn't give us any information on the buyer.

Probably scared, but we'll get it out of him.

Detective, the lieutenant's asking for you.

Okay.

Uh, excuse me.

Be right back.

Thank you.

Right.

Now the detective's gone, let's have a chat.

Just the two of us, shall we?

Look, I don't know anything, okay?

Yes, yes, you plead ignorance, and then we sweat you until you finally give us a name.

I'm sorry, I don't have time for that.

I've got a lovely lady tied up back at my place.

So I'd like to speed things up.

Listen, listen, man, I...

wait...

Please stop!

I'm sorry!

I'm sorry!

I don't know his name!

I only know his, his username, okay?!

"TruthDog21"!

Please!

Stop!

Oh, oh!

Oh.

Oh...

You have to stop seeing Lucifer Morningstar.

How did you get that name?

- Uh...

- Okay, invading my privacy is one thing, but if you're stalking my clients...

I'm not stalking him.

I was working on a story with him.

Oh, okay, so you just happened to be working on a story with Lucifer.

Okay, I know this sounds crazy, it...

He's the Devil.

And I-I don't mean in-in a, in a douchebag, club-owning kind of way.

I mean...

he's the actual Devil.

Yes, Lucifer is insistent on this Devil persona.

No, he isn't some patient.

That's just a ploy that he used to seduce you.

Okay, so that's what this is about.

It is none of your business who I sleep with.

It is if it's Satan himself.

I don't think you've understood exactly what it is you're doing.

Oh, I know exactly what I'm doing.

I'm enjoying myself with someone who doesn't make me feel trapped.

Lucifer is someone who is completely present in the moment.

Who gives me 100% of his attention.

And doesn't demand anything from me.

I guess if you want to vilify him and call him the Devil...

No, he is the Devil.

But being with him is the most liberating experience of my life.

I see, he's-he's got you under some sort of spell.

You know, I've been incredibly patient with you, because I still care about you, still worry about you.

But I just can't take it anymore.

Okay, if I can come up with proof that he is the Devil...

Sign the papers!

You've got a lot you need to figure out, Reese.

You're right.

I do.

Reese?

It's Detective Decker.

We could really use your help.

How can I help you, Detective?

Shower and a shave, maybe.

We're here about the serial k*ller case from last year.

I thought the k*ller went dormant.

He has, but we're still investigating the case, and we've had a break.

All the victims were local celebrities who were featured in the Telegraph's style section.

You think he read the article?

And we hope he commented on them.

We have a handle we think he used, TruthDog21.

Well, the comments are public.

- You can search them.

- We have.

We didn't find anything, but we want...

But I was complaining to the detective about some posts of mine that have been removed from a web site for roosters of award-winning size.

You see, I was posting pictures of my...

Okay.

Okay.

Does your paper archive redacted comments?

Uh, anything that's threatening or violent.

Or of award-winning size.

Uh, yeah, sure.

Just give the information to my assistant.

He'll gather the info.

It might take a day or two.

- Thank you.

- Mm-hmm.

You still haven't destroyed him, have you?

Excuse me?

That sleazy piece of garbage who was sleeping with your wife.

No.

I'm starting to think that he might be undestroyable.

Well, perhaps you're not thinking outside the box enough, Reesey.

Don't be afraid to take a big swing.

It can be therapeutic.

Oh, speaking of...

I'm late for my own therapy.

Again.

She's gonna k*ll me.

She said that was a ridiculous idea...

- Linda.

- Reese.

What, you know him as well?

- My ex-husband, Reese...

- Linda.

- Stay back.

- Your ex-husband?

So we're tunnel buddies.

Hey.

You realize what you just did?

You just ruined a perfectly good Burberry.

- What kind of monster are you?

- See?

- He's the Devil!

I told you.

- Y-You tried to k*ll him.

Yeah, but I didn't.

He's invincible because he's the Devil.

- See?

There's your proof.

- Reese...

You're lucky the detective isn't here.

You'd be cleaning my blood out of the couch.

Put the g*n down, Reese.

Right, I don't need it anymore.

Look, I...



I know it's a lot to process, but you've got to believe me.

Reese, I know he's the Devil.

What?

You...

you...

you do?

Is this what you were trying to tell me all those months ago?

I saw his real face.

If you see it, then you'll know.

I have seen it.

And I know.

I know - how unsettling it can be.

- Yes.

And if you're this unsettled by me, I'd hate to see what you're gonna do to the scoundrel who's been sleeping with your wife.

I'm so sorry.

I didn't realize what you were going through.

I didn't know the truth, and I didn't think you did either.

But you know now.

And you're still seeing him?

Only professionally, Reese, much to my disappointment.

When I first learned who he really was, it...

it-it turned my world upside down.

But he's not what you think.

He's the Devil!

Oh, it's not like I've hidden that fact.

- He's evil incarnate!

- No.

No, he's a good man.

He's my friend.

All this time I've been...

trying to prove to you who he really is.

And not only did you already know...

you didn't care.

Sit down, Reese, let's talk this through.

- No, no.

- Please, Reese.

Your assistant left your redacted comments research on my desk.

Are you still working on this nightclub owner thing?

He's not just a nightclub owner.

So do you have a story for me, something I can actually print, or just arts and crafts?

This has to stop.

- Now.

- I can't.

I can't let this guy win.

You have filed, barely, a dozen other stories this year.

And you have nothing to show for all this work.

Reese!

This guy has won.

I'm telling you this as your friend.

If you don't let this go, it's going to be the end of your career.

You're lucky the detective isn't here.

You'd be cleaning my blood out of the couch.

- Alvin Kapitski?

- Yeah.

Registered on the LA Telegraph web site as "TruthDog21"?

I wanted to ask you a few questions about some comments that you posted on some stories we ran about Poppy Parker and Daniel Moore.

Okay.

Okay.

I knew this day would come.

I'll surrender quietly.

Oh, no.

I'm not a cop.

I'm a reporter.

I just want to talk to you.

You're here to do a story on me?

Well, my job is to dig up the truth.

Expose people for who they really are.

And once I saw your work, I-I realized that - you were just doing the same thing.

- Yeah.

Yeah, I was.

I'm back on my meds now.

I'm trying to be good.

It's hard, but I'm trying.

- I'm trying, I'm trying.

- I get it.

It's just, I met this guy recently.

Biggest fraud I'd ever encountered.

Yeah?

I tried to expose him, show everybody the liar that he really is.

What happened?

He won.

They always do, don't they?

Unless someone does something.

What's his name?

Hi.

- Thanks for coming.

- Hey, you're helping me, so thanks.

Although I have no idea why we had to meet here.

Those them?

Yeah, uh, all the redacted comments.

Uh, but first, I never did get to interview you.

You know, you really had me fooled.

Thought you were different.

Fine, ask away.

What do you think Lucifer gets out of this partnership?

You already asked me that.

Uh, but you never answered.

Um...

I think, a long time ago, somebody wronged Lucifer.

I think he avoided dealing with it, and he hides behind the partying and the women and the drinking, and who knows what else.

And with the LAPD, working on each case, it gives him an opportunity to right those wrongs, to fight back.

Oh.

You think that's funny?

Uh, no, no.

I'm sorry.

I just think, uh, you give him more credit than he deserves.

Well, I don't think you give him enough.

You may be right.

Thanks, Detective.

Um...

these, uh...

these look incomplete.

Help!

Help, help!

- Help!

Help!

- Help!

Help!

She's dead.

What happened?

Yeah, you were right.

Looks like the same poison that was used by that serial k*ller you guys were after.

They did this under my own roof.

My home.

How-how could the k*ller be here the exact same time we were?

Must be something, must...

It must be you.

What?

What do you mean?

He was here for you.

He must have figured out that you were gonna pass over information about him.

I'm so sorry.

This is...

this is all my fault.

I'm to blame.

I put you in danger.

No, no, no, this is not your fault.

There's only one person who's to blame for this.

Yeah.

I'm in no mood for whatever it is.

You.

This is all your fault.

You ruined my life.

You drove me to do things I never would've done.

And now...

there's a dead girl down there because of you.

What is it with you humans?

Huh?

Always blaming me.

I never make any of you do anything.

That's not true.

You trick us into sin, damnation.

I have a story for you, reporter.

One I've never told a human soul before.

I take no part in who goes to Hell.

Then who does?

You humans.

You send yourselves.

Driven down by your own guilt.

Forcing yourselves to relive your sins over and over.

And the best part...

the doors aren't locked.

You could leave anytime.

It says something that no one ever does, doesn't it?

No.

You're to blame.

I am responsible for a lot of things, Reese, but not your soul, not your actions, and not whoever k*lled that poor girl downstairs.

Eh, you...

you have to be.

Otherwise...

Hurting me is not what you really want to do, is it?

What are you doing to me?

Oh, you're a complicated one, aren't you, Reese?

Strong.

Tell me...

what do you truly desire?

I...

I just want Linda to love me.

You're still in love with your ex?

What about your wife?

She is my wife.

She'll always be my wife.

So...

hold on, that-that sleazy, piece of garbage, that...

that was me?

It was me.

The way she looks at you.

Ah...

She cares for you.

How'd you do that?

How did you convince her that the Devil, of all people...

was good?

I don't know.

I just...

showed her my true self.

But how could she accept you after that?

Well, maybe she did...

because of that.

Hmm.

Before you say anything, hear me out.

There's nothing you can say.

I was a bad husband.

Put my work above everything, above us.

Our marriage failing was all my fault.

And I'm sorry.

You deserved better.

Well, if we're...

if we're being honest...

it wasn't all your fault.

I wasn't perfect either.

Truth is...

neither one of us could be what the other one needed.

That's why it's good that we're going our separate ways.

But, Linda, no, no, I...

I thought me opening up would bring us closer.

Like it did with you and Lucifer.

Reese, that's not how this works.

You forgave the Devil.

Why can't you forgive me?

You know, for a second, I thought that you were honestly taking responsibility.

But it's always the same with you, over and over.

So determined, you never listen, never learn.

Do you know how much I love you?

The things that I've done for you.

I went up against the Devil.

I risked everything getting involved with a serial k*ller.

A poor girl got k*lled!

Wait, what?

I-I can explain...

Reese, what have you done?

No, it-it wasn't my fault.

- I'm calling the police.

- No.

It was an accident.

I-I didn't mean for any of this to happen.

- Reese.

- Stop.

- Let me explain.

- Reese, let go of me.

- Reese.

- No, no!

- No!

- Reese, no!

Oh, God.

I'm sorry.

You're right.

Call Detective Decker.

Tell them they can find me at my office.

I'll give them everything that I have on Kapitski.

And I'll turn myself in.

I'm sorry.

You were right.

Let me make this right.

Good-bye, Reese.

You sent me to k*ll the wrong man.

Lucifer wasn't a fraud.

He's an honest man.

As honest as they come.

No, no, the fraud is you!

Reporter lying to people.

A coward trying to get another man to do his dirty work.

You're the one who deserves to go next.

And now you will.

What are you laughing about?

I caught you.

Crap!

Let go!

No!

Stay down.

Oh, Reesey.

You laying down on the job?

Don't tell me, asthma.

That...

or the poison I drank.

Well...

you didn't drink all of it.

I set things right.

Maybe this will turn things around...

with Linda.

Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr.

Getty.

What...

what happened?

Just a little brush with death.

You had us worried there for a while.

Is my wife here?

No.

I'm sorry, you haven't had any visitors.

Well...

we have been having some trouble lately.

But you know what?

Second chance on life.

Maybe it's not too late to turn things around.