02x06 - Oh Oh Oh... It's Magic

[bunniefuu]

Previously on Pushing Daisies: Charlotte's father, my lover, was Vivian's fiancé.

Vivian can never know.

Dwight Dixon.

I was a friend of your father's 25 years ago.

- I'm trying to find him.

- I'm afraid we lost touch.

I'm Ralston, this is Maurice.

They have your eyebrows and they do parlor magic.

Loosen up, drop that baggage, live a little.

Hi, I'm Ned.

I thought I'd stop by because basically we have the same dad.

At this very moment in the town of Couer d'Couers young Ned believed in magic.

It was not the magic that sparked from his fingertip when he touched a dead thing alive again.

That particular magic had not yet been discovered.

This was the magic of a father's love.

Young Ned would discover this magic was not magic at all.

Alakazam.

It was just a trick.

After Ned's mother d*ed, his father performed another trick.



- A cruel disappearing act.



- I'll be back.

And when his father never came back, Ned stopped believing in magic.

Young Ned discovered his father would one day perform his sleights of hand and misdirections for a younger more impressionable audience: A new family that did not include Ned but did include his half brothers, Maurice and Ralston.

Maurice and Ralston loved their father and delighted in his magical tricks and insisted on learning every one of them.

But there was one magic trick their father never taught them and would only show them once: A cruel disappearing act.

It's 19 years, 42 weeks, 6 days, Maurice and Ralston have become the illusionist duo "Two for the Show.

" The mercurial world of magic and its associations had another effect on half brother Ned, who could wake the dead.



- Magicians? Illusionists.

At the mere mention of magic he experienced the sting of anxiety

-induced acid reflux.



- Who doesn't like magic?

- I love magic.

As much as I love other popular entertainment like Boxarate Tae

-k*ll

-Do cage

-fighting or monster trucks on ice.

To factions of the God

-fearing public, magic is the devil's work you little devils.

Magically delicious little devils.



- Mm

-mm.



- Oh, I thought you were

- Magically delicious little devils.



- Mm

-hm.

Like a confection.

Inside one of these pies is a prize.

But which one? This pie? That pie?

- Pick a pie, any pie.



- That one.

That one.

You magically julienned the cherries.

But wait, there's more.



- Oh, a magic show.



- A magic show.

A magic show? Where did I put that rat's ass I could give? Magic ain't nothing but a voodoo grift.



- Magic is as magical as you want it.



- He magically put tickets in that pie.

If you mean made you look that way so you wouldn't see what they're doing then, yes, those tickets alakazamed their way underneath that delicious, flaky crust.

Or Hocus pulled the damn tickets out of his pocket and Pocus slid them in the pie pan as evidenced by the cherry

-rhubarb crumble on his sleeve.

We perform after the performance of the Great Herrmann.

He's the big patriarch of the Conjurer's Castle.



- And to us too.



- After Dad had to leave

- Had to leave?

- Why else would he have left? After Dad had to leave, Herrmann was the next best thing.

Yay.

Another magic dad.

We'll introduce you after the show, if you come to the show.



- Will you come, big brother?

- Big half brother.

Once removed by the fact you didn't know I existed until last week.

I'd like to R.

S.

V.

P.

In the resoundingly affirmative.



- I thought magic was a voodoo grift.



- It is a voodoo grift.

But exposing these two and their fairy

-dust deceptions will only hone my PI skills, much like a brainteaser or Where's Waldo?

- You're not invited if you heckle.



- But, shazam, I have a ticket.

I'll be there, front and center Ioud and applauding, or praising the Lord.

Whatever you'd like.

Applauding.

Loud and applauding.

And preferably amazed.

What do you say, Frère Pie

-Maker? Look, there's a ticket with your name on it.

Ohh.



- You barely said a word to them.



- I barely know them.

I saw them once, I was 9.

They were just bastards my father was cheating with.



- Those bastards are your little brothers.

You can't just flash some jazz hands and then abracadabra, brotherly love.

There should be a grace period, a getting

-to

-know

-you period then dinner on a holiday.

I invite them to the Pie Hole.

And suddenly it's, "Frère Pie

-Maker, come to our show.

" It's a magic show.

What do you got against a magic show? Sequins, drama the promise of bloodshed.



- Next to pageants, they're my favorite.



- They give me acid reflux.



- Oh, here.

Suck a lozenge.

A magic lozenge, make me forget they put on a magic show.

The same kind my dad put on.

What they pull out of their hats isn't a rabbit, it's childhood trauma.

They're wearing it like a cape and taking to the stage.

Oh, no.

Oh, no.

I was just about to tell you to shut up.

Then you stopped I didn't have to.



- Maurice, Ralston are family you didn't know.

I'd talk to Lily as the mother I didn't know I had, I'd have a sea of questions.



- Don't you have a sea of questions?

- There may be a pond.



- Then dive in.



- I'm not a diver, I'm a cautious swimmer.

I test the water with my big toe and then gently wade into the shallows.

While the Pie

-Maker insisted on wading into the shallows of brotherly love Chuck insisted on diving into the depths of a recent and strange revelation.

Her Aunt Lily was in fact her Mother Lily.

Not satisfied hearing such life

-altering news secondhand Chuck wanted to hear the words directly from her mother's lips.



- Hello? Oh, hello.

I'm from Livelong Day Life Insurance.

Now, we have an amazing Mother's Day offer for women who have given birth.

Now, may I ask, do you qualify for Our November cheese is rubbed with paprika.

It is particularly appealing to the woman who has had a baby.

Have you ever had a baby? You've been randomly selected to receive your very own psychic reading Hello? Oh, no.

Here comes another magic dad.

Is that the Great Herrmann?

- Maybe he could be your magic dad too.

Already had a magic dad.

It didn't work out.

I need another lozenge.

Lozenge isn't working.

Stomach acids rising.

As well as other contents of stomach.



- Are you the Pie

-Maker?

- I'm a pie

-maker.

Hello.

Excuse me, excuse me.

I feel I should hug you.

Can I give you a hug? I'm hugging and there's nothing you can do about it.



- I want a hug.



- I'm not made of hugs.

Maurice and Ralston can't stop gushing.

I'm so grateful you came into their lives.

You can take heat off me.

The boys are rather needy.

We'll talk about it later.

Pretty girl.

Pretty girl.

And you, I sense you are a great investigator of things unsolved named after a poet and a fish.

Mm

-hm.

I sense you better give me my wallet before I make my foot disappear up The boys tell me you're a heckler.

We don't play that way at the Conjurer's Castle, so let's nip that in the bud, shall we? Yeah? And how do you propose we nip, Herman? It's Herrmann.

And this is how we nip.

Ever had your breath taken, Emerson Cod? Leached from your lungs by a cement mess crushing you in a deadly embrace?

- No.

In just moments, I will be contorting my shackled body into this box which will then be filled with Quick and Hard brand quick

-set cement and welded shut.

Demented and cemented, I give you "Cementia.

" If my shackles are secure, Mr.

Cod, then kindly return to the audience.

Ah.

Applause for Emerson Cod.

Now you see me Emerson Cod.

It was no accident I chose you to volunteer.

I require your keen eye and investigation of things in a personal matter.

Someone has been k*lling my assistants.

I invite you tonight to solve their murders.

I live to amaze another day.

But not another day after that.

Her name was Alice.

Tonight would've been our 200th performance together.

I found her just like this.

Except over there.



- You turned your assistant into a bunny?

- My assistant has always been a bunny.



- I just wanted to see if he knew that.



- Alice was m*rder*d.

Like the others.

Fred and Ginger were impaled when a rigging in my coat misfired.

They would fly out of my pockets in a puff of glitter and birdseed as I strummed a chirping slide guitar.

And Mercury, sweet Mercury.

Mercury loved performing with balloons and children.

That's when he was happiest of all.

And now he's dead.

Bludgeoned by a falling sandbag.

Who would want to k*ll all your animals? We can appreciate and sympathize with your predicament, Mister Herrmann

- Please, call me Great.



- No.

We're private detectives not pet detectives.

It'd sully my reputation as an expert in the field if I were investigating missing pussycats or dead bunny rabbits.

I wanna help missing pussies and bunnies.

I'm curious.

Do pet detectives get paid more than the other kind? Pet detectives get paid a whole lot more.

So you need to get to prestidigitating a little more green if you wanna get serious.

Blow on my hands.



- Man, give me my damn money.

Now, if you'll excuse me the county bridge

-and

-tunnel folk have arrived for the 9:00.

Great? I never got to ask.

How exactly do you know Maurice and Ralston? I was there when their father left.

Your father left.

Had good seats to that show.

I was the dress rehearsal.

The show sucked then.

What do you tell kids you've never met that their dad just dropped them like they were hot?

- You can't sugarcoat that turd.



- No.

Not effectively.



- What did you tell them?

- What they wanted to hear.

Dad was an important man with important

-man matters to attend to.

Blah, blah, blah, please stop crying.

Did their My dad, say anything to you? What's he gonna say? "The boys'll be hungry in an hour"? He was ditching the kids at a Sunday matinee, for Christmas sake.



- Thanks for looking out for them.



- Didn't have any other choice.

Every day after school they'd pop by looking to be taught some new magic trick or play with my monkey.

Heed this warning.

Establish very clear boundaries early and often.

I guess they just needed a father.

Son, ever feed a stray pussycat? It was like that.

You love the pussycat, and I love those boys.

But that plate of tasty pâté with a tuna sauce was not a promise.

It was the promise of sisterly devotion that concerned Lily.

Thirty years, nine months ago, Lily broke that promise when she was impregnated by her sister Vivian 's fiancé.

Lily lived in fear that one day Vivian would discover her betrayal and settle her hash.

And today that hash

-settling day has come one day closer.



- Who the hell are you?

- Who the hell he was, was Dwight Dixon.

In his youth, Dwight Dixon brandished the blue beret of the United Nations Peacekeepers.

Together with Chuck's father and the Pie

-Maker's father Dwight performed tasks of peace enforcement and, in the process, learned many things about his brothers in arms.

Some things Lily would rather he not know.

Charles kept a picture of you.

You were a mermaid sitting in the cradle of a giant fishhook with a clamshell brassiere and the tail of a mackerel.



- I don't think we were ever mackerels.



- You were always a mackerel.



- Whenever I saw that picture, I'd say

- "Holy mackerel.

" I heard that one coming from around the corner.



- It was wearing tap shoes.



- Charles never told me you were witty.

Probably the only thing he never told me about you.

Boy, did he talk about you.

When he wasn't talking about this one which was 99.

9 percent of the time.

I'm quite the conversation piece.

When you opened that door I got a Rock'em Sock'em Robot "pow" to the chin.

Now I know why Charles always regretted letting another woman come between the two of you.

He broke my heart.



- Charles broke a lot of hearts.

But he only got his broken once.

Knocked him for a doozy too.

Do you have a point to this visit? Or did you just stop by for snorts and giggles? The giggles are raisins in my oatmeal.

I'm here for something.

A common brass pocket watch.

It belonged to Charles hence it had a C.

C.

Engraved on the back.

It looked a lot like this one, which is mine, hence the D.

D.

We all got them in the service.



- I don't recall a pocket watch.



- Vivian, maybe?

- She doesn't recall either.

Well, pocket watch or no pocket watch I think I can tell when it's time for me to go.



- I'll get your coat.



- Thank you.

I'm not gonna say anything to Vivian about what you did.

That'd be cruel.

Not as cruel as what you did, but no need to quantify pain.

Don't come for me, fella, I fight dirty.

Oh, I don't wanna fight.

I need to change your perception of me.

Let's sit down and tear a pheasant together.

You, me, your sister.

If I see you again, it won't be pheasant I'll be tearing.

Oh, Tabasco.

You sure are a spicy cocktail.

While Lily was giving Dwight the stink eye with the only eye she had her sister, Vivian, had set her eyes on something much sweeter.

A confection she hadn 't tasted in quite some time.

A date.

As Herrmann took to the stage for his second performance

- of the night

- Now you see me a m*rder investigation was being performed under the proscenium arch of his dressing room.

Poor Mercury.



- I wish you could tell us who did you in.

He's a monkey.

Barring evolutionary leaps unheard of, the monkey can't talk.

He's also dead, which is why he really can't talk.



- That's true too.

Alice can talk.

She's got burns on her lips and ulcers on her tongue.

She's telling us she was poisoned.

We got a monkey flattened by a sandbag.

Means the k*ller knows their way around backstage.

We've got two doves, impaled by bad taste and a malfunctioning coat gag.

k*ller knows how the Great Herrmann's tricks work.

Alice ate the lettuce off the Great Herrmann's BLT.



- k*ller knows how to make a sandwich.



- Lettuce was to stay on the sandwich and be eaten by the Great Herrmann.

The falling sandbag, rigged jacket.

k*ller wasn't trying to k*ll animals.

k*ller was trying to k*ll the Great Herrmann.

He didn't get out.

He didn't get out.

Pull.

It's still kind of wet.

Isn't it funny how easy it is to remain calm when everyone else is freaking out? Sadly, the Great Herrmann had failed to escape his great escape.

His untimely expiration was deemed by the authorities to be accidental death due to aggravated "Cementia.

" This wasn't an accident.

Herrmann performed that trick a thousand times.

What'd he do with all the cement blocks? Donated them to Papen County Marine Institute to create artificial reefs.

The Great Herrmann had a fan base of barnacles, corals and oysters.

Well, tonight, the invertebrates of the sea will mourn his loss.

Poor Herrmann.

And Fred and Ginger and Alice and Mercury.

I want them all avenged.

I'm sorry but now that everyone's calmed down, I'm freaking out.



- I think it's the animal cruelty.

Don't freak out.

I know a dog and pig that haven't been impaled or poisoned.



- They need to be fed, loved and walked.



- Maybe I'll go do that right now.

I'm sorry about your next

-best

-thing magic dad.

And I'm

- I'm sorry about yours too.



- Um He wasn't my He didn't We didn't have that kind of relationship.

Although he did put his hand on my shoulder and call me "son" which felt like someone rubbed feet on a rug reached into my chest and gave my heart a pop.



- I always love that static

-electric pop.



- It's all very confusing.

There's m*rder*d magic dads and promise of tasty pâté with tuna sauce.

What do you think you were saying? Ain't what came out your mouth.

What I'm saying, I need to say to them.

I'm gonna take care of this.

Herrmann will be avenged.

I don't mean vigilante.

What example would that be? I mean regular go

-to

-jail

-for

-your

-crimes justice.

You gonna kick someone's ass, Frère Pie

-Maker? Yes.

I'm gonna kick someone's ass.

And the ass

-kicking would commence with the ass that poured the cement.

I gave Herrmann plenty of time to get out.



- Why didn't he? I don't know.

It's cramped.

Maybe he got a blood clot and passed out.



- How'd he usually get out?

- He doesn't tell me.

The monkey knows more about his tricks.



- The dead monkey?

- The dead monkey.

You gonna try and pin that on me too?

- What about Fred and Ginger?

- The rabbit.

Alice was the only one I liked.

Damn monkey was mean.

And those birds, those horrible birds.

Every time they fly out his pockets they att*ck my weave.

Animals att*ck, you att*ck.

Then k*ll the guy who trained them to att*ck.



- No.

I stand there humiliated by a mean monkey night after night for eight years.

I told myself three, but it's been eight.

I stand and take it, hoping the Great Herrmann will make good on the carrot he's been dangling and give me my own act.

Eight years of dangling while the twins pass you by? You been spurned.

And next to the spurned lover the spurned employee rides shotgun on the homicide chuck wagon.

Herrmann and anyone he shared a stage with ended up dead.



- Except you.



- Which means you're the k*ller, k*ller.

Or I'm next.

Or it was an accident and no one's next.

Also, you're wrong.

Someone else shared the stage with the Great Herrmann.

The Geek.

So you like the comic books and action figures? He bites heads off chickens.

Oh, animal rights groups put a stop to that kind of geek a long time ago.

Performers dressing up as savages and eating live animals.

It's tacky and a sure

-fire way to alienate your audience.

I eat glass and nails and regurgitate fish, frogs and mice.

I'm working my way up to a kitten.

Regurgitating a kitten? That's a unique talent.

I trained my body to do the extraordinary.

My first job was as a plant in Herrmann's audience.

That's how we met.

He'd pretend to hypnotize me and then under his spell I'd drink a bottle of beer and then eat the bottle.

We were like a father

-and

-son act.

What were you and your tummy doing when Herrmann was getting cemented? I was walking the crowd.

I pickpocket rings, watches and keys and then regurgitate them later in my act.

With all that happened, I forgot to give some of them back.

Listen for yourself.

Oh.

Did you swallow a magnet? Somebody must've had one in their pocket.

That's an amazing talent, Mr.

Geek.

Herrmann was the only one who had respect for my contribution.

Any idea why he couldn't get out? Can't say.

I bet the Great Herrmann is in there right now striking some Last Days of Pompeii pose that's gonna tell you everything you need to know.

While the investigators continued to ponder why the Great Herrmann did not get out Olive Snook was about to ponder how someone else did.

We're closed.

Vivian.

You're out.

I thought we had agreed you'd call before dropping by, which would be expected had you called.

I couldn't risk sending a message and Lily intercepting it.

This has to be covert.

I'm on a date with a man.

Oh, evening.

Evening.

We walked out of that sandstorm with our boots, berets and our pocket watches, with no pockets to put them in.

We made a spit pact like in the Boy Scouts.

Last one alive takes them watches into the desert and lets the sandstorm claim them.



- That's so very romantic.

And poetic.

And you certainly took your time to come calling.

Charles has been dead for 20 years.

I've been in prison for 22.



- Emotional or federal?

- I'm gonna say yes to both.

I can only say yes to one.



- Must seem a little less romantic now.



- Oh, no.

On the contrary.

I knew what kind of man Charles was, and the way you tell it you boys sound more like bandits than peacekeepers.

We were a little of both.

About Charles' pocket watch I do recall it.

So does Lily.

I don't know why she lied to you.



- I think she wanted you to leave.



- Lf Lily wants to keep that watch she should.



- She didn't.

We buried it with our niece, "Lonely Tourist" Charlotte Charles.

It was her father's.

We wanted her to have it.

That poor girl m*rder*d on a Tahitian getaway.

That was Charles' little girl? Lily is sensitive when it comes to Charlotte.

Of course she is.

She lost her daughter.



- Niece.



- I know what the relationship is.

I'm just saying, I think you both lost a daughter.

You raised the girl.

How could you not feel like she's your own? I'm glad the pocket watch is with Charlotte.

Because now he knew where to find it, or so he thought.

Just as our private investigators thought they knew where to find the Great Herrmann.

Where's the Great Herrmann? Give me that.

Now you see me "And now you don't.

Double kisses, double hugs, the Great Herrmann.

" Son of a bitch.

It was a disappearing act.

Now you see him now you don't.

The good news is, he's still alive.

Somewhere.



- Why would Herrmann disappear?

- I'm sure he wouldn't unless he had to.

He's important.

He probably had important

-man matters to attend to.



- Oh.



- That's what Herrmann told us.

That's why I said, "Oh.

" It was an attempt to corral those words back.

What did Herrmann tell you? About when Dad left? Did he say why Dad had to leave? He told me what he told you.

Did he tell you anything he didn't tell us? There may have been select details.

The facts were these: On a cool autumn day, 9 years, Maurice and Ralston 's father promised them a magic show they would never forget.

A new magician, cleverly billed as Herman Gunt's Magic Express called for a volunteer.

"I'll be back," dear Dad said.

The fledgling magician tried to comfort the fatherless boys with vague but important motives behind their dear dad's disappearance.

The twins ' fragile hearts gladly believed in the illusion of his words.

Until now.

He wasn't important.

He didn't have important

-man matters to attend to.

Your dad Our dad was just some guy ditching his kids at a Sunday matinee.

That's what Herrmann told me.

That's what he didn't tell you.

He didn't wanna hurt you any more than you had already been hurt.



- You didn't have a problem telling us.



- Yeah.

In my defense, you badgered me and considerable time has passed.

Probably sound like some missionary showing up telling the natives they're worshiping a false god, but you kind of are.

He left three sons.

There really isn't a good excuse.

Did Herrmann tell you Ralston wet himself when Dad disappeared? It was years before we could perform a disappearing act without a mop.

Why would you say that? I get anxiety

-induced acid reflux at the mention of magic.

Ralston, you wet yourself.

We're two grown men with dad

-related body

-fluid issues.

I can't suck lozenges for the rest of my life and you can't wear adult diapers.



- I learned to control my bladder.



- Oh.

Good for you.

I know my acid reflux is just heartburn.

And your heart's burning too.

Look at the way you're holding that scarf.

You're not clinging to Herrmann, you're clinging to Dad.

Holding tighter isn't gonna bring him back.

It's not gonna bring either of them back.

Where's the rest of it? Wasn't it in that block of cement with Herrmann's note? Yeah, it probably should've been, huh? The Great Herrmann is dead.

He d*ed from "Cementia" on

-stage, with the rest of this scarf around his neck.

I knew I shouldn't have came in here.

I knew it.

Should have took my ass home, turned off my phone and got under the covers.

But, no.

Someone switched the blocks.

It's classic sleight of hand.

Herrmann was that little ball under the coconut shell.

Someone shuffled the shells around and we looked under the wrong one.

There were two performances of "Cementia.

" So two blocks.

k*ller shuffles the blocks, hides the one with Herrmann in it and everybody thinks the great Great disappeared into his act.

And no body, no m*rder.

Makes for a great urban legend, though.

How do you shuffle a 500

-pound block of cement? Forklift.

Only one block of cement was forklifted out tonight.

Which means the other one is inside.

The switch had to happen between the stage and the loading dock when people weren't watching the blocks too carefully.

Using metal detectors to detect the metal of the shackles worn by the Great Herrmann while performing "Cementia" "Two for the Show" featuring Olive Snook began their search at the loading dock.

I always loved a good treasure hunt.

The private investigator, the Pie

-Maker and Chuck began their search under the stage.

Might not be the cement.

We could chisel open that block and find a m*rder w*apon.

Like a Mojave rattlesnake or a needle Herrmann unknowingly injected himself with whilst contorting.

Or we chisel open that block and find he drowned in cement.

Well, when we do chisel it open it's too bad Maurice and Ralston can't talk to the Great Herrmann.

They didn't get a chance to say goodbye.

The boo

-hoo bosom done dried up.

Well, my boo

-hoo bosom is plump and brimming with milk.

Yuck.

A small conversation can go a long way even under the falsest of pretenses.

Have you been crank calling Lily again? Not recently.

Although that does depend on how you define "recently.

" Woman, don't you know people have caller ID? Oh, there's something underneath these floorboards.

I give you "Cementia.

" Herrmann slid right off the stage and dropped into this strategically jackhammered grave.

Of all the ways to have your body stashed, this one's not so terrible.

Maybe the k*ller wanted Herrmann to be part of the Conjurer's Castle forever.

If the k*ller cared, you'd think he'd break out his trowel make the thing look nice.

Look at those edges.

He gotta fill this in.

Lord knows there's enough cement in the house.

Did someone just turn on the cement mixer? Maybe it's Olive and the boys.

Maybe what's Olive and the boys?

- Whoever turned on the cement mixer.



- You found Herrmann.

Whoever dropped his block in there is back to make sure Herrmann is part of the castle forever.



- That's his k*ller?

- That's his k*ller? No, no.

Fools rush in.

We're not fools.

Over there.



- They sprang like att*ck monkeys.



- I'll take care of them.

You take care of him.

Do either of you have a g*n?

- No.



- No.

I'm going with Emerson.

Hey.

Don't be going around chasing m*rder suspects willy

-nilly.

What you gonna do? Use your Wonder Twin powers? Wait for me.

Oh!

- Emerson.

In here.

What? Oh, is he dead? That's the Geek.

He eats glass and swallows small animals.

What's that up his nose? Maybe it's a small animal trying to crawl to freedom.

Oh, no, that's all the way up in there.

He's dead.

Yeah.

He's gone.

You k*lled Herrmann, buried him in the floor and then you snuck back in here so you could seal the deal with some more of your cement handiwork.

But you got surprised by the Geek and then you k*lled him too.

Is that how you're gonna frame me after you b*at me with metal detectors? I am an unarmed woman.

Calibrate those things to find your manhood.

If you didn't k*ll anybody and you ain't running around here burying bodies what you doing here?

- Packing.

The universe k*lled Herrmann to send me a message.

And that message is eight years is long enough to wait for a carrot.

My associates is out digging up that carrot you been trying to bury.

We gonna see what the universe has to say about that.

As Emerson Cod chiseled away at his suspect the Pie

-Maker and Chuck chiseled away at the Great Herrmann.

I live to amaze another day.

No, you live to amaze another minute.

You've been crushed by "Cementia.

" I was hoping that didn't happen.

How am I talking right now and not dead?

- Magic.



- It's a family trait.

Must have gotten it from your father.

And that's some potent kung fu.

I know that asking a magician to reveal the secret behind his escape is rude Then don't do it.

Nobody likes rude.



- It could help us catch your k*ller.



- Ah.

Magic man to magic man.

Plug your ears.

Magic man to magic man, the Great Herrmann detailed the facts of the escape that wasn 't.

It was not magic that got the Great Herrmann out of his box but a series of trap doors.

But a magnet concealed in his shoe was not underfoot.

Magnets in your shoes? That's the secret to your greatest trick? I could've lied to you.

Told you it was force fields or telekinesis.

Somebody snatched the magnets out of my shoes while I wasn't wearing them.

Do you have any last words, or regrets or something you'd maybe like to say to Maurice and Ralston? Something I'd like them to have.

My freezer has a false bottom.

Inside, you'll find my magic book of magic tricks and illusions.

Give it to Maurice and Ralston.

I'd like to keep it in the family.

Time for my next trick.

With a bit of showmanship, if you don't mind.

Now you see me There were supposed to be magnets in Herrmann's shoes.

That's how he triggers a trap door and escapes.

Someone stole the magnets so he couldn't escape.

There were magnets in the Geek's stomach.



- So what?

- Sew buttons.

He ate evidence.

The Geek's the k*ller.

The Geek ain't the k*ller.

The Geek is dead.

Black

-magic woman k*lled him.

She took that dangling carrot and jammed it in that damn fool's head.

Stop saying that.

I did not.

In fact, she hadn 't.

They did not just leave me with a dead body.



- Right now, I feel like I'm very calm.



- Oh, you are.

Thank you.

And I wanna stay that way.

But I need you to stay calm too.



- So, what's our promise to each other?

- Stay calm.



- Which means?

- No screaming? You're wonderful.

I can't wait to let you go.

Everybody can see you.

Olive, are you okay?

- I'm calm? Hey, nerd.

You need a bigger human shield or something.

You hanging out all sorts of places I could sh**t.

How about you just let wee lady wee go? Well, I have a g*n too.

I swallowed a pearl

-handled p*stol.

I'm cocking the trigger with my stomach muscles right now and when it fires, it's going to sh**t you in the face.

I did hear a click.

Wait.

It's a click

-clicking.

Oh, never mind, it's a watch.

You ain't sh**ting nobody in their face, TUMS.

You are not gonna get away with m*rder.



- He's got a nail.

The facts were these: The Geek, a.

k.

a.

Gunther Pinker, saw a father in the Great Herrmann and a long and happy future performing together.

But Herrmann did not see a son in him only a novelty act whose novelty had run out.

Herrmann had conveniently arranged his own funeral in "Cementia.

" The keys to his escape were consumed.

He made the Great Herrmann vanish and replaced him with another cube.

No body, no m*rder.

He intended to return with his trowel and seal the Great Herrmann 's grave with the very brand of cement that took his life.

I would've eaten anything for that man.



- I loved him like a father.



- Guess he shouldn't call your act cheap.

That first beer bottle I ate for him was a promise.

A promise he broke.

He turned his back on me.

Abandoned me like I was cheap.

I was abandoned by my father when I was 9.

I hated him for leaving me.

I wrote letters to my future self telling me to never forgive my father and to always hold a grudge.

Those letters were little angry time capsules.

But being angry didn't help.

Despite what he did to me I still loved him and I wanted him back.

Now.

Ta

-da! The Geek, a.

k.

a.

Gunther Pinker regurgitator of fish, frogs, mice and now kittens was arrested for the m*rder of the Great Herrmann, a.

k.

a.

Herman Gunt.

When they were ready, twin magicians Maurice and Ralston dealt with the loss of their magic dad finding his book of secrets where he had left it.

But they knew there was someone who 'd waited eight long years for that carrot.

We'll make you a photocopy.

And with it, Alexandria the assistant would become the Great Alexandria newest headliner at the Conjurer's Castle.

As for the Pie

-Maker, he discovered a new side to magic.

Magic was not just what disappears, but what reappears when you least expect it.

Emboldened with this new perspective and free of the sting of acid reflux the Pie

-Maker arranged a private magic show for the girl he loved.

Are you ready? Well, if we're going to a magic show, I hope you've got your lozenges.

Oh, sorry.

You helped me conquer my lozenge dependency.

As terrifying as it is, magic runs in my family.

And I kind of like being Frère Pie

-Maker.

It's a nice feeling to be able to talk to the family you didn't know you had.

Okay, you can look.

Yeah? Okay.

Aw.

I want you to have that same nice feeling.

Do you wanna talk to your mom? Are we gonna crank call Lily?

- In a way.



- Ding dong ditch? How? A small conversation can go a long way, even under the falsest of pretenses.

Okay, now that Vivian has gone to bed have you ever role

-played? Oh, I've role

-played.

But never in a context I'd be comfortable role

-playing with you.

Oh, no.

Not that kind of a role

-play.

More olives, Olive.

This is a work

-your

-grooves

-out kind of a role

-play, not get

-your

-groove

-on.

Oh, okay.

You've told me things only me, you and that nunnery know.

About Charlotte, you being her mother and not being her mother.

That again.

When you were a jockey, did you ride horses or b*at them after they were dead? I'm talking about a dead daughter.

That's a lot of weight to haul around.



- You are harshing my buzz.



- I don't wanna harsh, I wanna help.

Help me help you carry the weight.

Oh, Lily, unburden yourself.

If Charlotte were alive now and you didn't have to worry about Vivian settling your hash, what would you say to her? You're supposed to be Charlotte? Yes, Aunt Lily.

It's Charlotte.

Don't you recognize me? You should get your eye checked.

Charlotte, there's something you should know.

I'm listening.

I'm your mother.



- Presto.

Go on.

Ask your sea of questions.

She can hear me? Um There's so many.

L I wanna know everything.

I wanna know every Everything? Everything.

Start at the beginning.

Tell me about the day I was born.

Can you tell me about the day I was born? I was at the nunnery, right in the middle of mid

-middle morning prayers.

Sister Mary Mary came running with a crucifix and a bucket of holy water.

She had ideas about the kind of spawn I was carrying.

But after you were born even she could see you were an angel.

As the once

-dead girl named Chuck had her very first conversation with the mother she'd always thought dead and felt her heart grow full across town, Dwight Dixon was visiting the dead daughter of his dead friend and found her coffin empty.