All language subtitles for Pushing.Daisies.S02E04.Frescorts.720p.WEB-DL.DD5.1.H.264-KiNGS

Previously on Pushing Daisies:

You're thinking about living here,
aren't you?

I'm just moving next door.
Is Olive ever gonna come home?

She's the closest thing to a sister I have.

- What if I tell the secret to Chuck?
- What secret?

I'm Charlotte's mother.

My God, Lily is Chuck's mother.

Oh, a weight has been lifted.

- Wanna come home?
- My work here is done. Come on, Pigby.

Are you a parent or guardian,
Emerson Cod?

I used to be.

You have a daughter? Where is she?
Why-?

Stop. No.
Scratching an itch only makes it itchier.

I love you, Lil' Gum Shoe.

Emerson Cod was
5 months, 3 days and 4 hours old...

...when his mother planned his death.

It would be quick, painless...

...and the easiest way
for Private Detective Calista Cod...

...to bust a stock clerk claiming millions
in pain and suffering...

...as the result of a forklift accident.

The firm of Cod & Cod dedicated itself
to the pursuit of truth at all costs...

...a pursuit
young Emerson found "badass. "

Faced with scoundrels,
cheats and the havoc they wreaked...

...mother and son made a vow
to never let lies come between them.

It was a profitable decision.

The truth is the cornerstone
of any successful relationship.

Years later,
Private Investigator Emerson Cod...

...was less successful in another
venture: aspiring pop-up book author.

Lil' Gum Shoe was based on
the detective's childhood adventures.

More importantly,
it was a map designed to bring...

...his missing daughter back.
If he could get it published.

"Complex plot, lack of theme,
child endangerment. " Man, that's cold.

So, at this moment, Emerson Cod,
a failure at fatherhood and fiction...

...decided to quit.

Who is she?
- I don't know.

She just rolled in like a moody,
mean thundercloud.

Know what you want?

Yeah.

Nothing, with a side of buzz off.

Ma'am, sorry to bother.

Perhaps you didn't realize
this is an eating establishment.

Not a park bench, for example,
where one can loiter and smoke...

...and not consume food
to one's heart's content.

Got a problem, we can take it outside.

Oh, good. Someone with a gun.

Rhubarb.

The whole pie'll do.

And, Mama, when you gonna
treat yourself...

...and spring for a decent stogy?

The next time I trail a
white-collar money launderer to Havana.

People, I wanna introduce you to the PI
who taught me everything I know.

She's my best bud
and my mama to boot. Calista Cod.

Hi, I'm Ned. This is Chuck and Olive.

What brings you to
our neck of the woods?

Fraud case. And I've been missing
my Lil' Gum Shoe.

Can we hit a bar? I'm starving.

Isn't she comforting?
The brutal honesty, the sardonic wit...

...and the appetite for hooch.

Add an eye patch,
and Calista could be Lily.

How are you doing with that?

- What's that?
- Living with the fact that...

...the woman you've known
your whole life as a favorite aunt...

- ... is really your mother.
- Oh, that "that. "

I'm happy that I know I have a mother
who's alive.

Not so happy she can't know
I'm alive.

Oh, suddenly what was comforting
is giving way to sadness.

Then I'll be your comforter.

Consider me your king-size duvet...

...ready to wrap you
in goose-down goodness. Tonight.

I'd love to, but I've already
made plans with Olive.

You've been hanging out
every night since she got back.

Not that I'm counting.
You new best friends or something?

No. Wait. I guess we are.

A new best friend.
Isn't that superb?

The Pie-Maker did not think so.

The more time Chuck spent
with her new best friend...

...the less time she had for him.

He felt alone. But he feared the truth
would make him sound needy...

...so instead, he lied.

It sure is. Superb.

For you.

Both.

- Wanna head home, roomie?
- Mm-hm.

Charlotte Charles and Olive Snook's
decision to cohabitate was sudden...

...just like Olive's earlier decision
to join a nunnery...

...where all her earthly possessions
had been given to the poor.

It was a gesture she'd all but forgotten
until she arrived home...

...with a new pet pig by her side.

Is this my place?

I'm moving out,
after having moved in...

...which came organically
from missing you...

...and watering your plants
as you asked.

Don't worry.
All this will be gone by tomorrow.

- Everything?
- I figure you wanna start from scratch.

Truthfully, Olive Snook did not.

What she wanted
was a furnished apartment.

Scratch that. Let's be roommates.

I couldn't impose.

Truthfully, Charlotte Charles could.

Like Olive Snook,
she enjoyed her things...

...and the independence they brought.

Although if I were to impose,
I'm a morning showerer...

...a heavy sleeper and a dish drier.

And I'm a late-night bath taker,
a snorer and a dish scrubber.

Welcome home.

Anything bigger we should discuss?

Referring to the time you made me
an unwitting drug mule for your aunts?

- I wasn't.
- Good. I done roasted that old chestnut.

And I'm also okay you hid the fact that
one aunt was really my mother.

Just like I'm okay with the fact
you didn't explain to me...

...why you faked your own death.

- My, look at all those bridges.
- And all that water flowing under them.

I'm proud of us.

- We put it on the table and dealt with it.
- Just move right off of it.

Chuck and Olive had simultaneous
and sneaking suspicions...

...that they were fooling themselves.

But they read each other's anxiety
as giddy excitement...

...so Olive Snook changed
the subject.

Besides, who would've thought
they'd hit it off?

Which reminds me. Would you mind
if I had the bed by the window?

Absolutely. Not!

I knew I should've knitted it larger.

- Wool stretches.
- Well, not to China, sweetheart.

You got a girl somewhere?

Emerson Cod had lied to his
best friend and mother about two things.

One: that he did have a girl somewhere,
age 7.

Two: that he had written a book...

...designed to bring this girl
back into his life.

Somebody's been feeding you.
What's her name?

- Pie-Maker.
- Damn.

Damn sad, me not knowing more
about what's happening in your life.

I know we're both busy,
but it ain't right.

Emerson Cod agreed.

It was no longer right to be
in his mother's presence...

...without coming clean
and cleaning off their cornerstone.

His decision to share his secrets
was a noble intent.

All right, Ma. Here's the dilly.

Mr. Cod,
I'm in desperate need of assistance.

What makes you so desperate, Miss...?

Villanueva. Veronica Villanueva.

An unsolved murder.

Namely, that of my best friend, Joe.

- Office is closed. Family matters. Scram.
- Please. I'm opening my heart to you.

Just open that blouse.

You got a description of this Joe?

VERONICA: They found his body
dumped in an alleyway last night.

He had been missing for two days.

Joe. He was like a brother.

He meant everything to me.

I want justice at any price.

That's our kind of justice.

We'll be in touch.

I'll be dental damned.

- Girl like that, you certainly should.
- I'm talking about a dentist...

...by the name of Dr. Eugene Halifax.

Came to see me this morning
about the murder of his best friend, Joe.

With Miss Villanueva,
he's a cosmo-drinking shopaholic.

- Queer.
- You bet it's odd.

Dr. Eugene has Joe as some tough guy
who's tough on plaque.

Seems Joe was a different friend
to different people.

- Meaning both your clients.
- Mm-hm.

Gonna thank Mama for getting you
paid twice to solve one murder?

That's Joe, all right.

Hey, folks.

- What's going on?
- You in the morgue. Our condolences.

Know how you happened in here?

I remember I was
getting ready to play ball...

...when there was
a doozy of a pain in my back.

Stab wound.
Killer stitched it up. Poorly.

Let me see.
- Oh!

Oh!

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Is it me, or is that odor strangely
reminiscent of eighth-grade biology?

Specifically, formaldehyde.

The coroner must've started
embalming me.

Coroner don't embalm.
Just looks for cause of death.

Preserving happens after and elsewhere.

- Bless you.
- Bless Downy. She was my one and only.

I never got a chance to tell her how
much I cared. Now she'll never know.

- Any idea who'd pickle your gherkin?
None.

I wonder if this has to do
with my best friend.

Veronica, or Dr. Eugene?

You know those two? Small world.

- Keep an eye on them for me?
- We plan to.

Well, looks like we gotta get friendly
with a couple of best friends. Oh!

Under normal circumstances...

...a PI would
question separate clients separately.

However, the presence of one PI's
PI mother...

...allowed him to employ a timesaving
interrogation technique...

...known as the Kalashni-Cod.

Like the Russian machine gun
for which it was named...

...its operation was simple.

The scope was set.
The magazine loaded...

...and the trigger pulled.

Who's Joe's best friend?

I got it on good authority
Joe's BFF made him R.I.P.

Want the title now?

Where were you last Friday night?

Obsessed?
- Buy the formaldehyde?

Giving him the stab
make you feel good?

- I no suspect. I hired you.
- I think I'd like my money back.

I don't give no damn refunds
to people who waste my time.

When you retain my services, I expect
the facts. I mean all of them.

- Looking at your averted eyes-
- The lowered heads.

- and nibbled lips makes me think
you hiding something.

What is it?
- Fine. I'll tell you the truth.

The dirty, humiliating truth.

Joe was a Frescort.

It's short for "friend-escort. "

Basically, a friend for hire.
You pick from the catalog.

They become anyone
you want them to.

What's wrong with picking somebody
the old way?

Walking up and saying,
"Hi, my name is Blah-Dee-Blah.

You like bloo-dee-blooing?
Me too. Let's be friends. "

- But I'm shy.
- I get why Dr. Bashful needs a pay-a-pal.

But back when I had a rack
and a couple of sticks like yours...

...I had no trouble
making acquaintances.

This attracts all kinds.

But no one wants to know who I am.

Men only see me
as a score not yet scored.

- And the women?
- This-

- Yeah, we got it.
- It promotes instant jealousy.

I was all alone.

So I called in the professionals.

As Emerson Cod read the words...

...he was reminded of
Frescort Joe's final ones.

- That his murder may've had to do with-
"My Best Friend, Inc. "?

Everybody know their job?

Olive and I are Frescort wannabes. Our
mission: find Joe's one and only, Downy.

Meanwhile, me and the Pie-Man...

...gonna have a sit-down chat
with the CEO.

See who Joe was pretend-friending
the night he died.

Any questions?

- That was rhetorical.
- My query is not.

What happened to you and your mom
working together?

She working on her own case.
I might need a diversion.

So you with me.

This isn't a question.
More of a suggestion.

Merely a tiny change of plan
where Chuck goes undercover with...

...me, for instance.

The Pie-Maker's intention
wasn't to make waves.

He was just trying to spend time
with his beloved Chuck.

Yeah, sure. It's just that Olive and I...

...had kind of come up with
back-stories and aliases.

And a secret
incognito-partners' handshake.

Yeah, that's nice.
Plan stays as planned.

Move out.

Welcome to My Best Friend.
Where everyone's in the in-crowd.

I'm a PI. Less interested in
the in-crowd and more in the out.

- As in, murdered.
- You're here about Joe.

Such a devastating loss.

He was our top performer.

That's what you peddle
around here? Performers?

Truthfully? I'd say it's atonement.

Back in high school,
I was a colossal creep.

Math geeks, male cheerleaders,
even the pitiful team mascot...

...were just sad, pimply targets
for a varsity quarterback like myself.

Until two blitzing linebackers
destroyed my knee.

Suddenly, I was no different
from all those nerds I put through hell.

From that point on,
I swore I'd use my powers for good...

...providing people, for a nominal fee...

...with what
everyone deserves, friendship.

Judging by these digs, your nominal fees
been adding up.

No matter what the world says about
gadgetry bringing us closer together...

...it's driven us further apart.

We're isolated. All alone.

But once trained, my Frescorts function
as the best companions money can buy.

Who was Joe companioning
the night he died?

No client appointments.

- Mind if I take a gander?
- We keep all of our records confidential.

The hug machine.

Our most valuable teaching tool.

How about a demo on my associate?

- No, thank you.
- Divert.

Come on, you.

See, proper hugs are a science.

They must be platonic, but not cold.

Firm, but not painful.

The Pie-Maker didn't want
to be hugged by a machine.

He wanted to be hugged by the one
he was lonely for.

But for a fleeting moment,
the Pie-Maker's aloneness abated.

So he closed his eyes, thought of Chuck,
and hugged back.

I like that.

We'll have the models in the gift shop
for Christmas.

I'll make sure there's one
in your stocking. Come on.

Emerson Cod had uncovered
Joe's home address...

...as Chuck and Olive
addressed going undercover.

Barb? Hi, my name is Kitty Pimms.
And this is Patty Boots.

We're two motivated candidates
ready to befriend the sad and lonely.

For pay.

Kitty Pimms, Patty Boots.
What wonderfully rhythmic names.

They just scream good humor
and bonhomie. Now.

- Can you Fake It Real?
- Wha- Wha- What?

Were you making fun of my stuttering?

- No, I was just-
- I don't stutter, but if I did...

...what you did would
put me at ease by saying:

"Hey, you're okay. I'm okay.
We're okay. "

Okay? Now, back to Fake It Real.

On any given day,
clients are gonna depend on you...

...to summon up every feeling
in the book, even if you're not feeling it.

Show me happy.

Sad.

Surprise. Consternation.

Constipation.

Know what I'm showing you?

Heck, yeah, we are getting you
into training. ASAP.

Except I heard this job can be
kind of dangerous.

You're referring to Joe.
It's so horrible.

- Did you know him?
- Just by name.

Frescorts are forbidden to fraternize.

You two are friends, aren't you?
Don't answer, I can tell.

Thing is, you're awesome,
and I only want to bring...

...the best people into this organization,
so we'll just keep things on the q. t. Shh.

We won't even carpool.

At that moment,
another carpool had landed...

...at the apartment of a murder victim.

Frescorts ain't nothing
but a bunch of cons...

...hiding behind good intentions.

My experience?
People don't appreciate being conned...

...even when they're pathetic losers
who signed up for it in the first place.

Gonna go in Joe's place
and find that list.

See which one of his clients
did him in.

Why are they pathetic losers?
Because they're alone?

They're paying for something
that's free.

There's nothing wrong with
needing a little extra help.

A person with a wobbly backhand
hires a tennis coach.

You have no clue how to bake
a rhubarb-custard pie.

Do I call you pathetic for
paying me to?

You've had a best friend since birth.
Not all of us are that lucky.

Yeah, well.

Don't be too jealous of my luck. Ain't but
one sorry leaf hanging off that clover.

Mama and me ain't
supposed to have no lies between us.

Well, technically, I never lied.
But I never told her I have a daughter.

Mothers consider that splitting hairs.

She spent her whole life teaching me
how to collar cons.

I guess I'm just embarrassed to have her
know that my ex conned me.

But you know what?

I'm chucking my chagrin overboard.

I'm letting loose the truth. Yep.

I'm gonna sit Mama down...

...take a deep breath
and look her straight in the-

What's the matter? Cat got your eye?

Sorry. It's just glass.

Yeah, it's for a sculpture
I'm working on.

We're private investigators,
looking into a murder.

- Joe was my roommate.
- Mm-hm.

What's your name, roommate?

Randy Mann.

I got some knee-slappers about that.
You wanna hear?

In the face of tragedy,
I try to keep it light.

It's just weird,
not having him around anymore.

Joe had such a big personality.

It's tough. Share your life with someone.

Suddenly, there's an abyss
where a person was.

- You lost a roommate?
- And girlfriend. Same person.

Your roommate-slash-girlfriend died?

Yeah.

I mean, no. She moved out. Sorry.

Doesn't compare. Not even remotely.

You're not completely alone, though.

Golden retriever, right?

Yeah. Digby.

Who would be a comfort if he
didn't prefer living with my girlfriend...

...her new bestie and their pig.

You aware that Joe worked
as a friend for hire, Mann?

I thought he was a tutor to special folks
or something like that.

- Know who he was with, night he died?
- Sure don't, pal.

Wait. Where do you think you're going?

Bedrooms are back here?
Wanna see Joe's.

Wish you could, but you can't.
See, I'm late for something.

But seriously, come back anytime.

CALISTA:
Randy's a nut job's name.

Randy's a fun guy's name.
You grab a beer with Randy.

Grill a brat with Randy.
Pick up chicks with Randy.

Help stuff them in Randy's freezer
with Randy.

Be a little nice. His roommate died.

See how crazy-behind-the-eyes he got
when I tried to get in that back room?

People are private.
I've never seen your back room.

- Or your front room.
- Never seen your front door.

- Where do you live?
- Your son's secretive.

- He didn't get it from me.
- My hizzy ain't none of y'all's bizzy.

Mann is shady.
Gonna get back into his house...

...as soon as I get him to take
that bait.

- What've you got?
- Still no news on Downy.

And since company policy dictates
Frescorts can't date...

- ... then it may even be a dead end.
- Hi, Ned.

Hey, bait.

I found your cooking-class coupon,
so I brought a lot of offal.

- "Awful"?
- "Offal. " O-F-F-A-L.

Animal organs and innards.
For meat pies.

So "awful," like this idea.

I'm not leaving Ned alone
with Backroom Randy.

This place is full of freezers,
perfect for body-stuffing.

It's also full of customers.
Come on in, Randy.

All right, girls number one and two,
get to Frescorting.

- All right, Ma, let's go.
- Damn it. My target's on the move.

Well, can't it wait?

I thought we gonna catch up and talk...

...while we were tossing
that apartment.

Darling, you know what it is
to be married to the job.

We'll have time for talking tomorrow.

The weight of the untruths
about his missing daughter grew heavier.

So heavy that he felt
he'd soon be crushed beneath them.

And so he entered the apartment
of a suspected killer...

...with a different death on his mind:
that of his and his mother's friendship.

Tutor of some sort, my glue stick.

Freeze.

Holy Noah's nutty-as-a-fruitcake ark.

But the menagerie of taxidermied
animals would not be the nuttiest thing...

...Emerson Cod would find.

- Aren't you gonna chow down?
- I'm a vegetarian.

This stuff will make you strong.
"Gobbling gizzards makes muscles. "

Least that's what my ma used to say.

- Um.... Why?
- I had loose ligaments as a kid.

Always falling, bruising my tailbone,
bumping my head.

A total disaster. Especially at sports.

All the kids at school made fun
but I didn't care.

I just played with my pets.

Because pets are cool with you,
no matter what.

Like your dog. Digby, right?

He digs you just the way you are.
Forever will too.

I gotta stop going on
about stuff like this.

Makes me seem like a weirdo.

However,
the Pie-Maker did not see a weirdo.

I didn't have friends
at school either.

Talk about a disaster. They
wouldn't even give me gym clothes.

- I'd sneak off and bake pies.
- That's how I got started...

...in my hobby too. I don't usually
share it, but the minute we met...

...I knew you'd be okay.

So I brought it along
and hid it out back. Wanna see?

Sure.

Digby.

Listen.

- He's singing "American Pie. "
- You killed my dog?

No. That's Butterscotch, my dog.
You said your golden retriever was...

...with someone else.
I thought I'd lend you mine.

- He's been my best friend since I was 5.
- This is how you repay him?

If you had the chance to hold on to
someone you loved, wouldn't you?

In fact, the Pie-Maker had. Twice.

But instead, he said-

Please leave.

I thought we had
something in common.

You a sick man, Randy Mann.

Stuffing all them critters
and then posing them in twisted ways.

Well, that's why I don't
ever tell people about it.

They don't understand.
You don't think it's twisted, do you?

He does. He was baby-sitting while
I gathered evidence against your ass.

- Liar. Liar.
- Your pants on fire.

You wasn't Joe's roommate.
You were his client.

Why would I tell? It's embarrassing,
having to pay someone to hang out.

Even more humiliating to have your
Frescort repo'd. That must have been...

- ... the final straw before you offed Joe.
- I offered him a deal.

To be my roommate, rent free.
He agreed.

- Said it'd be like a real friendship.
- Is that why you kept a piece of him?

Joe's appendix floating
in formaldehyde.

- Oh, God.
- Except you found out quick...

...preserving a human is tougher.
You had to dump the body.

That appendix is mine, formerly Joe's.
He gave it to me as a joke.

And to thank me for taking him to
the hospital when it burst.

Check his medical records.
Or ask his girlfriend.

- He must've told her.
- What's her name?

I don't know, but it was someone at
work. Must have been serious, though.

Joe was even gonna quit
so they could be together.

So Ned just paged me
at the welcome desk.

He says there's no doubt there's
a Downy among us.

Okay. I'll nose through my "How to
Flatter the Profoundly Ugly" symposium.

I've got a "CD Mixes
That Matter" lab.

- Maybe someone there will know.
"Kinship. "

Anyone know another word for it?
I'm afraid there's a "Q" involved.

- Propinquity.
- Nice.

- Okay. Give me another.
- Oh, four across is gelding.

Thanks, but I don't do the acrosses.

- I only do the-
- Downs.

Barb, you're Downy.

- No.
- You sure aren't faking anything...

...to the contrary.

Okay.

It's okay. We're just trying to help.
Is Downy a nickname that Joe gave you?

Tissue.
What?

Tissue.
- Tissue.

I can't reach that. I just-

Ha!
OLIVE: Ahh!

- Barb, no.
- Fake that, bitches.

Crap. Ah-ha!

Oh, hell, no.

- Mama?
- Yes, dear?

- I can't breathe.
- Yeah?

I gave you breath
and this is the thanks I get?

The facts were these.

Missy Scrivner, editorial assistant
at Book 'Em Books...

...oversaw all rejected
manuscript letters.

Underbite surgery had left the girl
shackled to a liquid diet...

...which found its way onto
the rejection letter of one Emerson Cod.

Unable to decipher anything
but the words "E" and "Cod"...

...Missy phoned directory assistance.

Mistaking her garbled "E" for a "C"...

...the operator gave
the address of Calista...

...who read the critiques and assumed
her son's secret book was-

A thinly disguised tell-all...

...to show the world
what kind of horrible mother I am.

- Did you even read it?
- Didn't have to.

The cover screams smear. What's
with the main character being a girl?

- You saying I turned you gay?
- I ain't gay and this ain't about you.

It's about my daughter.

- What daughter?
- She's 7.

Her mama ran off with her
when she was a baby.

Been looking for her ever since,
with no luck.

And that's why I finally wrote
Lil' Gum Shoe.

To help her have a way to find me.

Why didn't you tell me?

I didn't even tell my friends.

I'm not your friend.
I'm your mother.

- Oh, now you're my mama.
- What's that, Mumbles?

I said...

...you only say stuff like that
when you want me to feel guilty.

Since you've switched back
to Mama mode, I can roll with that.

So tell me, Mama, what kind of mother
spies on her own son?

It's not like I wanted to.

Damn. That's shrewd, woman.

You faked a fraud case.

You set off your own beeper.

You even made sure I took two clients
at once so I'd be doubly busy.

All so you could poke around
in my personal life.

Know what the sad thing is, Mama?

I was gonna tell you everything.

What kind of fool do you take me for?

You saying you don't believe me?

Well, I guess there's nothing else
for you and me to talk about, then.

Chuck and Olive
haven't checked in yet.

It's like we're trapped in a sachet
in the panty drawer of a dead shut-in...

...who was shut in her bedroom
by her cats...

...so they wouldn't have to smell
the stench of freesia.

- Can't you smell it?
- Yep.

That'd be my freesia hair de-tangler
that you said smells amazing yesterday.

OLlvE: Wish I hadn't.
- Wish I hadn't told you capris made...

- ... you look taller.
- Liar.

No, I'm a truth-ar because
I came clean unprompted.

You only admitted to lying
because you got caught.

Here comes the center of the universe,
pulling us into her...

...gravitational orbit of blame.

Oh, well, FYl, there is no
center of the universe...

...because our universe
is forever expanding.

Like your neediness.

Wah. "Respect my feelings. "

Wah. "Don't fence me in. "
Wah. "Don't treat me like I'm dead. "

Well, if you're so dead,
how can you be so needy?

Oh, right. You're selfish.

I am selfish?

I've just shared with you
every single thing that I own.

Big whoop. Secondhand stuff.

That's what you're angry about.
The one thing I won't share. Ned.

OLlvE: I can't believe you said that.
Don't shrug at me in the dark.

That was a low blow.

What do you expect me to do?
I'm in a no-win situation.

I can't talk to you about it
because that'd be insensitive.

I can't talk to Ned because
he's done nothing wrong.

I mean, if I were to have a nickel for
every time the three of us are together...

...and unexpectedly, accidentally,
I catch you looking at him-

OLIVE: Stop talking, stop talking.
Help. Help us. Anyone, help.

And you have this little sad,
pining look on your face of:

"Oh, Ned, why can't you love me?"

Then I feel like a complete jerk for
being in love with my own boyfriend.

A boyfriend you don't touch.

I told you we can't.

That doesn't make any sense.

I'm going home. To my home.

- What happened?
- Roommate squabble.

Brought on by the suspicious actions
of Barb, a. k.a. Downy...

- ... who is a person of interest.
- Got a name and address?

No, but I know where I can get one.
Buddy's office.

Oh, no, Barb.

Oh, Kitty. You got out of the locker.
Sorry. Thought you were gonna tell.

For what, killing Joe?

No, for dating him.
See, I didn't wanna get fired.

This job's the only pla-

Her lungs are crushed.
Who knows CPR?

I do.

Oh, good idea.

Okay, breathe, breathe, breathe.

The only place
my encyclopedic knowledge...

...of hair braiding meant something.
I couldn't hurt Joe.

When he was around, I could be myself.
Now I'll never know if it was...

...just our mutual passion for crosswords
or if he felt the same way.

You were his one. He was about
to leave the company for you.

He said he had something
important to tell me.

The night he died, I waited for his call,
but he never made it back...

- ... from his Frescorting gig.
- Joe didn't work that night.

He was moonlighting. Sports date.

- Who with?
- Joe never said. The guy sounded tragic.

Two years of playing ball, he was still
a spazz. Some clients lack the jock gene.

Buddy calls them bleacher leechers.

Skip to where you become
the main squeeze.

I was having a meltdown.
Came in for a hug.

Pretended those arms were Joe's.

That's when the dial got turned to 11
by the Spartan.

I tried to fight.
Got this from his helmet.

You did good, Barb.

There's no Spartan running
around killing the popular kids.

- This ain't Thermopylae High.
- Right. It's Spartanburg West.

- And Buddy's team mascot.
- Great.

- How we gonna find out who that was?
- I'm having unfortunate hunches.

Randy was an uncoordinated
bleacher leecher.

He told me the kids at school
teased him for it.

Maybe one of those kids
was varsity quarterback...

...and self-proclaimed
dork menacer Buddy Amicus.

What are you doing here?

We're closer to finding Joe's killer.

- With Kitty?
- Yeah.

- What's wrong with Barb?
She's dead.

- Thanks to your happy hug machine.
- Not Barb.

Sweet, adorable, conciliatory Barb?

Who could do something so horrible?

Does the name Randy Mann
ring a bell?

- Should it?
- We think he's your old school mascot.

The Spartan you tangled with back in
the day, he's back and pissed.

Do you happen to have
a high-school yearbook?

- Thank you.
- I have to evacuate the building.

Call the police,
tell them there's a vindictive person...

...with low self-esteem on the loose.

There's no Randy Mann listed.
Maybe he's using an alias?

- The phone's dead.
Ow! Help.

He got Buddy. Let's move.

Ugh! Watch out.

- That was close.
- Yeah.

Last thing we need
is another dead body on our hands.

Too late for that.

Well, hello. This is a surprise.
For you too, I'm sure.

We're having trouble
getting a good look.

There's a mannequin face over yours.
Maybe if you took off your helmet.

- Oh!
- Oh! Helmet on. Helmet on.

Sorry about that. We weren't expecting
such a leathery, mummy-like-

Can you speak? We would really like
to know who you are.

You the Spartanburg West
quarterback.

Can you show us?
Ares Kostopolous.

- Wow, you were a hottie.
- But Buddy was the quarterback.

Buddy-
Buddy was the Spartan mascot.

- Oh!
- Buddy killed you too.

So the Buddy Amicus legend of being
a high-school golden boy is a lie.

And a total horror show. What kind of
person holds on to a dead body?

The kind that wants
to preserve a friendship.

The facts were these.

As a teen, Buddy Amicus
was unknown and invisible.

As varsity quarterback,
Ares Kostopolous was admired by all.

In his fragile and obsessed mind...

...Buddy was best friends
with the big man on campus.

And he had to get closer,
no matter what.

Spartans!

The nameless, faceless mascot
strove to make his pigskin god proud.

But no one noticed him
until the state championships...

...when everyone did.

Spartans. Spartans.

Spartans.

The Spartan felt the agony of defeat
but there was more agony to come.

Total loser, man.
Hey.

Ow. Guys. Guys.

Buddy thought Ares, his hero,
would save him.

The realization that their friendship
was a lie was so painful...

...it drove Buddy mad...

...and murderous.

Years of dermatology,
orthodontics and steroid abuse...

...transformed Buddy Amicus
into the man he'd always wanted to be.

He founded My Best Friend, Inc...

...and found among his Frescorts...

...Joe, who triggered in him a new,
albeit familiar obsession.

This time, Buddy knew
things would be different.

Now he was the big man on campus,
able to befriend anyone he chose.

Until the day Joe brought it all
to an end.

He was quitting
to be with fellow Frescort Barb.

Which meant he was also
quitting Buddy...

...no matter how much
the delusional man...

...offered to pay him to stay.

The realization that another friendship
had been another lie...

...drove Buddy mad and murderous
yet again.

And so he convinced Joe to meet him
for one last game.

- Why'd you heave-ho the body?
- I tried to preserve him like Ares.

Sadly, the formaldehyde
triggered my asthma.

And Barb. She took Joe.
So you took her life.

Wanna know the most senseless thing?
I started this company to help people.

So the friendless
wouldn't suffer as I did.

They suffer. I've seen it.
First, the bogus friendships...

...you sell seem good, but deep down,
clients never stop feeling like weirdos.

So they keep paying. Hoping that
someday those feelings will go away.

But those feelings never go away.

I'm killing you first. Say goodbye.

Goodbye, friend.

With the Frescort killer
behind bars, the Pie-Maker was free...

...to revisit a former Frescort client.

Your meat pies.
I can't eat them, so....

This is Digby, by the way.

Digby, say hi to Randy.

Aren't you a nice boy?

- So unlike your owner.
- I deserve that.

- Like you deserve an apology.
- Apology accepted. Goodbye.

Wait.

You don't have to pay for it.
Friendship.

The truth is, there are a lot of people
like you. Us. With strange hobbies...

...or talents, or gifts
that we try to hide...

...because we're afraid it makes
us seem weird, or turns people off.

But that's a mistake.

What makes me unique has brought
every person I love into my life.

And it can be the same for you.

Well, there's nothing wrong
with being alone, you know.

Joe taught me that.
Called it the first step.

No good to somebody else unless
you're good with being with just you.

Advice an alone Pie-Maker
could use as well.

The Pie-Maker obtained
Buddy Amicus ' client list...

...and invited those listed to bring their
true selves to a low-key mixer.

And while the intention was good,
the evening was an unmitigated disaster.

Until the second hour, when everyone
started to come out of their shells.

In 10 minutes,
I was gonna pull out the tequila shots.

If that didn't work,
pull the fire alarm and call it a day.

Can you give Digby another hug?

Oh, yeah. Of course I will.

You want a hug?

Tighter. Give his belly a rub.

You know, if you want,
I can hug him all night long...

...when I sleep over
at your place. Permanently.

Did I forget to tell you
that I'm moving back in?

That squabble with you and Olive
is clearly more than a squabble.

Yeah, we let loose with everything
we were feeling...

...and flogged our friendship to death
with a truth club.

Does that mean when it comes to us,
I should keep my truths to myself?

No, of course not. Hang on. Am I
setting myself up for something here?

I was setting myself up to tell you, since
you moved, I feel like I never see you.

And please don't take that
any other way than...

...I miss you.

That's really sweet.
I miss you too.

All the more reason for me
moving back in.

Sorry. You can't.

But you promised me comforting.

You're my king-size duvet
of goose-down goodness.

I know. Selfishly, I want
to duvet you right this second.

But I've gotta work on
being okay alone.

And you've gotta work on
your friendship with Olive.

We might not like it,
but it's the truth.

Well, I'm gonna need a pie.

OLIVE:
Oh, I'm a sucker for shoofly.

What do you think?
We gonna be able to fix this?

We should assess.

I'm working on the
having-feelings-for-your-boyfriend thing.

I just wish there was a switch I could
turn to "off," but there just isn't.

I know. While you do that, I'm gonna
work on the center-of-the-universe thing.

In fact, I'm ready to ditch that role for
a new one: selflessly centered roommate.

You're staying?

Was that a good or incredulous
question mark at the end?

Very good. Besides,
the heavy lifting is behind us.

- We've laid that cornerstone of truth.
- Pounded that sucker into place.

Besides, it'd be such a waste of time
and effort if you left.

Agreed.

As Chuck and Olive
celebrated their reunion...

...Emerson Cod
had a reunion of his own.

Well, finally.

A decent stogy.

I needed some comfort tobacco.

Yeah, I was just about to ring you up,
tell you how much I regretted our words.

Was about to get on a plane. That regret
had me turn around, running back here.

You were right.
Our relationship is done.

Meaning how our relationship was.

Being best friends.

I'm your mama, Emmy,
and I gotta start acting like it.

That means I can't expect you
to be as strong as me or as grown up.

Gotta feel you can be vulnerable.
Make mistakes and still tell me about it.

- Deal?
- Yeah.

- Do I get an allowance?
- No.

But you do get notes on this from me.

The publisher's right.
The book is stupid.

Book ain't stupid. Story is.

This is about your childhood
with your crazy mother.

You tell that to a kid at bedtime,
he'll piss the box springs.

You gotta write about the grown-up
Emerson Cod.

How great he'd be as a daddy.

Do that, your little girI'll come
running back in no time.

Later, Lil' Gum Shoe.

As Emerson Cod enjoyed
a sense of familial peace...

...the Pie-Maker had
a peace of a different sort.

The quiet, solitary, bachelor kind.
Until...

Oh, no. Disaster with Olive?

It went really well.

So well, in fact, I wanted to wrap you
in goose-down goodness as a thank-you.

But you know,
my duvet was metaphorical.

Yeah? Well, so was mine.

I've really missed you.