All language subtitles for Palm Royale - S02E04 - Maxine Unwrecks a Home_Track03

Thank you, Brandoff.

It's good to have you home, ma'am.

This is where my story began...

and this is where it ends.

For the hundredth time, you have
your victim and your suspect mixed up.

I am the victim. Me. Maxine.

Norma, the suspect, hath framethed me!

Norma screamed, "Maxine, don't kill me."
Then I heard a gunshot.

And now there's no more Norma.

You also thought you saw Linda
shoot the president.

So you need to get your organs checked,
Sergeant, Detective... whatever you are.

Special Agent Trainee.

And you seem to be in the middle of
every major crime in Palm Beach.

Flattery will get you nowhere.

But I simply will not confess to a murder
of a woman who is not even dead.

Then why are they
reading Norma's will across town?

Who's the "they"
reading Norma's will across town?

To Pinky,
my Cuban brother from another mother,

and his beautiful wife, Raquel!

So, your old lady
finally knocked off the old lady, huh?

I wouldn't go that far,

but my aunt has been missing long enough
to declare her dead.

Three days.

So, as soon as we read Norma's will
leaving me everything...

Us everything.

Mi casa es su casa.

We casa.

And Pinky doesn't have to kill you.

I love that.

She meant kill
as a figure of speech, right?

- She did not.
- Douglas.

Pinky's a mobster, Mitzi.

We had a deal
to turn this house into a nightclub.

And it fell through.
I've been a marked man ever since.

Robert? What are you doing here?

Mr. Diaz is named in Norma's will,

and according to this most recent codicil,
he is the only person named.

The mansion and everything inside
is his and his alone.

What about our baby?

The generation-skipping trust?

It will remain skipped
until Mitzi gives birth.

If you'd go ahead and sign, Mr. Diaz.

Robert. Robert, how do you feel about
real estate?

Pinky can't have the house, Douglas.

But if Pinky hears that,
he's gonna kill me.

Robert, brother, please, I'm about to be
a father to a beautiful baby boy.

- Or girl.
- Hopefully a boy.

But a father, Robert. Please.

We'll name the baby Robert.

Or Roberta.

Please?

No.

Robert, look at you!

Great to see you on your feet!

What's going on?

It seems there is a misunderstanding.

Douglas couldn't promise you this house.

This house does not belong to Douglas.
This house is mine.

We just need to hunker down quickly.

- I can't hunker. It's bad for the baby.
- Come on.

I will end him.

Not here, mi amor.

- Where is he?
- I have no idea.

When I find him,

- I'm gonna fucking kill him.
- Pinky.

- Come on. Come on.
- Douglas!

Wills and declarations be damned!

You cannot just keep holding me here
without any proof that Norma is even dead!

There's no body. No body, no death,
no murder.

It's the holy trinity of the law.

Amen to that.

Excuse me, sir.

I was just in the middle
of a sound legal self-defense...

Any man who is his own lawyer
has a fool for a client.

And you are far too pretty to be a fool.

I'm also not a man.

Or a lawyer.

Dr. Dusty Magic.
Doctor of law and part-time gynecologist.

You have held this woman for three days
without any due cause or proof.

No body. No death. No murder!

That's what I just said.

I knew I heard it somewhere.
You're free to go.

You walk out that door,
you're a marked woman, Maxine.

Even if I can't prove
you had anything to do with this,

you'll be ruined in this town forever.

Au contraire, Special Agent Trainee Sanka.

I will own this town.

Let the record reflect that
I am not your client.

And even if I was,
I wouldn't be able to pay you.

Oh, please.
I've been following your story.

You're definitely
a woman who could use my help.

And all my services
are completely pro bono.

Okay. Well, I don't think anyone
does anything for free in this town,

so you can keep your bono to yourself.

Besides, I have a plan to unsully my name.

And it has nothing to do with
a lawyer-cum-gyno.

How does it feel to be a murderous whore?

When did you realize
your marriage was over?

Is that the same dress you wore
when you killed Norma?

That is one fascinating woman.

Norma's not here to protect you anymore.

But lucky for you, Sidonius, I can offer
the club a substantial infusion of funds.

More than enough
to pay off your pesky illicit mortgages.

Go on.

In exchange for lifting this albatross
off your weaselly little neck,

my partner and I want a controlling
ownership stake in the Palm Royale.

Please tell me you're not talking about
that pariah Maxine.

It's a silent partnership.
Practically mute.

Members won't take kindly to a killer
buying their club. Maxine's a liability.

What if they found out
Norma wasn't murdered?

That she escaped with the help
of a certain club ambassador.

Would that be a liability?

Screw it.

Anything to get out of this
members-only purgatory.

I always knew
you were a reasonable egg, Sidonius.

Transferring the title
will require signatures

from each of the Palm Royale's
founding families.

- You mean...
- Yes. The three D's.

The Davidsouls. The Donahues. And...

The fucking Dellacortes.

Eddie, I come bearing news and folders.

Good day, partner pal-o-mine.

Is this the only toilet in town

or are you fully committed
to finding new ways to nauseate me?

And shouldn't you be behind bars?

I sprung myself, no thanks to you.

And I had to get out of that
front page murder dress.

Thank God the porters
didn't take my luggage.

That's because they took
my bags of paper money by mistake.

I called the QE2, but the bosun said the
bags had already disembarked in Liverpool.

How can bags disembark without a...

Norma...

That's how she escaped.

She took your cash and my ticket!

Show your work.

After she shot down the chandelier,

she slid in the old bootlegging tunnels
via the hole in the floor.

Next, after she got her wits about her,

she hightailed it to the Dellacorte beach

where she dropped her belt,
thereby implicating me,

before hopping onto a waiting fan boat

to catch up to the already departed QE2.

Whereupon she checked into my cabin...

Goodbye, Palm Beach.

...and your bags of money
were delivered to her by mistake.

Bags?

I think Norma took
the whole kit and caboodle...

Everything's coming up, Agnes

...and disembarked in...

Liverpool!

The steamer trunk.

That miserable clown, Sidonius,
wasn't moving a body.

He was taking her luggage to the QE2!

We have to find her. We're gonna
get your cash and clear my name!

That all makes perfect sense

- except for one thing.
- What?

Norma refuses to stay
anywhere but the Ritz.

And every yokel knows
Liverpool is Ritz-less.

She's a murderess on the run.

I highly doubt the specificity
of a hotelier

- is gonna matter to her at this point.
- Have you never met a rich person?

Operator, get me the London Ritz, please.

London Ritz. How may I assist you?

Yes. May I have
Norma Dellacorte's room, please?

I'm sorry, ma'am. But there are
no guests here by that name.

We can't give up now.
We gotta call every Euro Ritz there is.

No, I don't have time for this.

If we're gonna secure this club,
I have some people to see, tout suite.

Speaking of which,
how dry is the ink on your divorce papers?

Dry as a Sicilian white. Why?

You're on a need-to-know basis.

Look, I don't believe you killed Norma,
but I'm a minority opinion in this town.

So unless, and until,
you're found innocent,

you are a silent partner in this deal.
Capisce? Ca-pi-che?

- Yes. Yes.
- Good girl. Now I'm off.

Good luck clearing your name.

My name.

London Ritz. How may I assist you?

Yes. Excuse me. I misspoke earlier.

I'm looking for
a Maxine Dellacorte, please.

Apologies, ma'am. You just missed her.
She checked out this morning.

Seriously?

So you want an APB all across Europe

because somebody checked into
a London Ritz under your name?

Okay. Well, what about the trophies
in the trophy room at the Dellacorte?

Ann can cross-reference the trophies
with The Shiny Sheet obituaries.

- And we--
- Start there.

And then once you have something concrete,
I'll see about that tracker.

Will you? Thank you! Thank you!

- Thank you. Thank you.
- Okay. Get off of me.

If my higher-ups saw us,

it can blow up this entire
unofficial, off-the-books investigation.

Oh, okay. If there's one thing
I'm great at, it's being subtle.

- Yeah. Okay.
- Okay, bye.

Okay, bye.

- I'll call you later about the case.
- Okay.

- Unofficially.
- Maxine!

- Off the books.
- Shut up!

I want to rip off that space suit
and blast your rockets.

How about this...

"Beam me up, Robby.

Klingon to my hips and tickle my G-Spock."

All right.

So what does it mean?

It's from a TV show.

Let me read this one. It says,

"I saw your picture in the paper
and I had to write.

You might have forgotten me,
but I'll always remember you."

Why'd you stop?

Some of these get
really personal for some reason.

- Hey, we all have a past.
- Yeah.

And as much as I would love

to keep reading your fan mail...

I have to get to work.

Come on.

Listen, I don't know
if I should come here again.

It doesn't look good.

That's not what you were saying
half an hour ago.

Your best friend

is a suspect in Norma's disappearance.

You inherited her fortune and her house.

It could look like you two are in cahoots.

Well, first of all, Norma is not dead.

She's just a very complicated woman.

And Maxine is another
very complicated woman.

And this is just another
complication between them.

Were you expecting someone?

Sounds like a bunch of Vespas.

Go away! Stop following me.

You shoo, flies. Shoo, I say!

Returning to the scene of the crime?

Hey, what happened to the dress
you killed Norma in?

You!

That, sir, is your doing!

What, are you here
to twist the knife even more?

Actually, I was taking a statement
from Mr. Diaz.

More like making a statement to Mr. Diaz!

Slandering me,
whispering poisonous innuendos in his ear.

Well, listen up 'cause I can whisper too.

You will never turn him against me.

He is my best friend.
Do you know what that means?

Best friend?

You listen to me and you listen good.

Consider your investigation compromised,
Special Agent Poopy Pants McGee.

Call me later, sweetie.

- One more kiss.
- Maxine!

Another one.

Got you.

Maxine, what are you doing?

Proving that Norma's a murderer.
So I can prove I'm not a murderer.

So I can still buy the Palm Royale
with Evelyn.

Norma is not a... Why is everybody
accusing each other of murder?

Because of Douglas's death declaration.

It has framed me
for Norma's disappearance.

I'm surprised he's letting you
stay here anyway.

Well, he doesn't have a choice,

because Norma left this house for me
in her will.

And everything else.

Wait. Well, if Norma's
leaving you everything,

that means she's leaving Douglas nothing.
And I get half of that which is...

which is nothing.

After everything I've been through,
I'm gonna be homeless by half?

No, come on.
You can stay here as long as you need.

But I think it's best if you...

if you... if you move to the pool house.

Why? There's, like, a million bedrooms.

Yeah. I know, Maxine.

But with the investigation, Tom says
it's better if we're not seen together.

- Tom? Tom Sanka?
- Yeah.

Who gives a flying fig
what Tom Sanka thinks?

I...

Tom.

He's your inamorato?

It's not what you think. It's...

I actually hope it is what I think.

'Cause if I can compromise
the investigation from the outside,

you can compromise it from the inside.

I'm not gonna compromise anything,
Maxine. I like the guy.

- I more than like.
- He's accusing me of murder, Robert.

This is my life. He can send me to jail.

Please. You know Norma better than anyone.
She's got to have a secret or ten.

Nothing I can think of.

Well, keep thinking.

Oh, gosh. I've got to get
these trophies to Ann Holiday.

I think I've found a finger bone.

Oh, thank God. It's just a pen.

Palm Beach is no longer safe, Perry.

In these unprecedented times,
we can't trust the powers that be

to protect us anymore.

We have to be the powers that be.

There is a void.

We must fill the void.

We must become the void.

You must become mayor.

I don't wanna be mayor.

Too bad.

Behind every great man
is an even greater woman.

And this greater woman is going to
be the next First Lady of Palm Beach.

Ta-da!

It's a Warhol.

Did you invite them?

No.

- Perry!
- Dougarito!

My best man, my best friend,
my best brother.

Norma gave our house to the pool boy.

So we were wondering, could we
use your place to hide out from Pinky?

As the man of the house let me say,
mi casa es tu casa.

This is your big idea, Douglas?

- For us to sleep on Perry's couch?
- Oh, no. They--

This is no way to treat the mother
of your unborn meal ticket.

Come with me, Mitzi. We have a guest room.

Please. I'll show you around.
Have you seen our pool?

Hello, Perry.

Douglas. Good, you're here too.
Two birds, one stone.

Gentlemen, a word in private.

- Help yourself, Evelyn.
- Don't worry, Dinah.

I can be alone with
other people's husbands.

No offense, Mitzi.

Everyone has their cause.

Dinah had pediatric cancer,
Mary had something about fiber.

And for me, I have decided
to devote the rest of my days,

solemnly, humbly, and with complete
selflessness to the cause of preservation.

And, gentlemen, as you know, our very
way of life is gasping on a ventilator.

Do we pull the plug?

No. We of Palm Beach hike up
our slingbacks and get to work.

Now, our beloved Palm Royale is
in desperate need of a facelift.

Could you not agree more?

Some mixed medical metaphors, but okay.

Then it's settled.
I will head up the preservation committee.

All I need

are the John Hancocks
of a Donahue and a Dellacorte.

So the Palm has financial trouble?

If so, we've got good heads
for these real estate kinda thingies.

No, this isn't a real estate thingy.
This is an Evelyn Rollins thingy.

Fine. I'll create an advisory board thingy
and put you two on it,

just as soon as you sign. Deal?

You're welcome to stay here
as long as you want.

Norma told me
you'd all start being nice to me.

You've still got that black widow stain.

And you're hoping that
by cozying up to me,

some of my new-girl shininess
will rub off on you.

True.

But what's also true, little Mitzi Mitz,

is that we women always have each other's
backs when push comes to shove.

All you seem to do is
fight like rancid coozes.

You'll see.

Do you have a plan?

There's a trust for my baby
with $82 million in it so...

That's good.

A lot can happen in five months.

Believe me, I know what it's like
to be engaged to a much older man

- who could die at any moment.
- Douglas is only 50.

Listen, little girl.

It is a dark, dangerous world out there.

Presidential assassinations.

Murderous musical hippie communes.

We are all in danger. You. Me. Your baby.

Me.

To be safe, a woman has to have power.

Stick with me.

Maybe our shine can rub off on each other.

Counter proposal.
If the club needs cash, we could invest.

For a controlling interest of course.

Of course.

I'd eat my teeth before teaming up
with you two chucklefucks.

Hey, you do not talk to
my Stag Brother like that.

This man is going to be mayor.

Yeah,

- and this man is gonna be a millionaire...
- Uh-huh.

...as soon as
his baby pops out of that lady.

Don't count your chickens.
A lot can happen in five months.

So what do you say to our terms?

One day you two will learn
that charity starts at home.

Except this ain't charity
and I'm not at home.

How's this for charity?

Go fuck yourselves.

- Fuck you!
- Okay.

Once the noise
and scandal of divorce quiets,

there's just silence and loneliness.

If a woman falls in public and no one
catches her, does anyone hear her cry?

Robert, can I sleep with you?

Sure.

I'm scared.

Me too.

Yes.

Take that, cop.

Now who's the persona non gra...

"Strumpet"?

Is Robert Diaz upset about your new lover?

Robert Diaz is not my lover!
Get out of my bush!

Are you still a murderous whore?

His investigation is compromised.
He should be the one in hot water.

But it's always easier
to blame the woman, isn't it?

It is when she's a murdering,
man-eating divorcée.

That poor slut. She keeps making
things worse for herself.

And now Dinah thinks she can run
her imbecile husband for mayor?

I don't know why you made Maxine partner.

We never discussed it.

It doesn't matter.

Until we can get Dellacorte and Donahue

to stop diddling each other's donkeys and
play ball, the whole deal's dead anyway.

Maybe not.

I haven't been down here in a while.

Excuse me, gentlemen.

Hey, Eddie!

What are those?

Dinah's love letters. To me.

- Here.
- What am I gonna do with them?

Tell her you'll give them to the press
if Perry doesn't sign.

You don't really wanna do that.

You want leverage?

Future First Lady of Palm Beach or not,

if the papers print all the smutty stuff
she wrote to me,

she'll never be able to show her face
around here again.

What kind of smutty stuff?

You don't want me to answer that.

So do yourself a favor
and don't read them.

These don't mean anything to me anymore.

They're a part of my past.

If they can help secure our future,

what would Evelyn Rollins do?

You mean Evelyn Rollins-Martinez.

I'm scared, Doug. What's our plan?

Well, Maxine was always in charge
of the planning.

Hey.

What is it?

Well,

I might have a plan.

Or not a plan per se,

but maybe more of
a crazy notion of an idea.

Yeah?

Hit me.

We're--

We're getting married!

That's typically what engaged means.

- No. Today!
- Right now.

We want our bundle of
joyful buns in the oven to be legitimate

no matter what happens.

Can we take your car
down to the courthouse?

Absolute-te-mont.

No actually, Perry. Can you drive?

If Pinky's goons see me,

then I'll be wearing a Cuban necktie
to my own wedding, right?

What a completely wonderful
and absolutely organic plan.

- You're having an affair with that jerk?
- No! It's called a long con.

You should know that.

Ann, can't you do something about that?

Sorry, I took a sabbatical
from The Shiny Sheet

to work pro bono for the FBI.

I think our best bet
at rehabbing your image

is for us to prove that Norma's alive

and for you to stop pulling
stupid stunts like this one.

Fine.

Okay. What's the update, Hardy Girls?

We connected Norma's trophies
to the Palm Beach obits.

Okay.

- We have enough overlap to be suspicious.
- Sounds official.

And making concierge calls,
we've been able to track her

from London, to Paris,
to we think Switzerland.

But her trail goes cold in the Alps.

Well, that makes sense.

It's just mountains and snow there,
I think.

Not what we meant.

Once she entered Switzerland,
we lost all sign of her.

Can't you just send an agent
over there to scour the area?

We are the only two working on
this unofficial off-the-books case.

And, technically,
Ann don't even work here.

Well, I demand justice.

Not just for me but for all
the children of the world.

There is a dangerous killer on the lam!

We don't have any actual proof of that.

All we know for sure is

someone is checking into European Ritzes
under your name.

I guess we just continue to
divide and conquer.

All right. Keep tracking.

I am going to take my case to the press.

Soldiers.

I would like to speak
with your new editor.

He's at lunch, ma'am.

Well, when he returns, will you please
tell him to focus on real journalism

instead of printing stories

about me sleeping with a cop
who got me off last night?

No, that didn't sound very good.

Don't print that. Don't write that.

There's my star.

- You?
- I knew you'd be good for business.

You've been feeding The Shiny Sheet
stories about me?

Selling.

How very double dare you.

This is just the way it works.
The law and the press, old bedfellows.

Besides, I'm working pro bono.
How else am I gonna get paid?

Here. Make sure you give these
pictures to your editor. Thank you.

If you know I'm not a murderer,

why don't you just tell them
to print the truth?

You don't want them to print the truth.

What? Of course I do.

You want them to print that
your husband left you for a younger woman

and you're shacking up in a pool house?

Nah. I don't think so.

They pity aging divorcées, but

they find accused murderesses sexy.

- Who said anything about being sexy?
- I just did.

And you can put that in the paper.

I'm a good person.

I'm not a... trolloping trollop.

You know, every good name
could use a pinch of bad. Don't you think?

Now I want you to look into your heart
and tell me that's not true.

Now, like the card says,

let's make some magic.

Maxine Horton?

I'm not in the mood to do
any autographs right now. Thank...

What the...

Do I know you?

You certainly know my husband.

Keep your hands off my man.

Mrs. Dellacorte!

- Hey!
- So fun.

- Here, honey.
- Gosh, that was fun. I mean...

I really liked that Justice of the Peace.

There's something about his hair
that's just fantastic.

I like small weddings too.
I've always liked small weddings.

- My first wedding was pretty small.
- Get in the car, babe.

It was gonna be big,
but it ended up being really small.

- That was fun, right? That was fun.
- Yes.

- It was such a hoot.
- Yeah. That was nice.

I'm really happy to be married, but
this isn't how I pictured my wedding day.

I was looking forward to all the gifts.

And cake. And the dress.

Everything that makes
a wedding feel special and...

- I don't wanna get back in the trunk.
- What?

Mitzi, that's just the deal.
So pretzel up, okay?

- Pretzel up?
- Yeah, pretzel up.

Come on, Mitz. Let's pretz.

I promise I will give you the biggest,
most special-est wedding

- that Palm Beach has ever seen.
- Oh, my God.

Just like Norma promised, okay?

I can see in your eyes you're angry,
Mitzi, but I'm still in hiding.

So that means
you're still in hiding, baby. So...

There you go.

- Doug! The baby.
- That's a good girl, Mitzi.

- Keep your eyes on the swivel.
- Yeah.

Okay?

- Thanks, man.
- Yep.

Married?

Tom?

Yes. But now his marriage is on the rocks
thanks to your kissing stunt.

Which I was forced to creatively conceive
in order to ruin his dumdum investigation.

Not so dumb.

Norma disappeared
right after you threatened her.

- You're just pulling a Douglas.
- I'm pulling a what?

A Douglas. Where you take
a morsel of malarkey, blow it up,

throw it back in my face
to take the heat off of you.

That's actually not what I was doing.

Well, Tom's wife actually slapped me.
In the face.

- I'm sorry.
- You don't look like you're sorry.

You look like you're suppressing a giggle.

You know what you are?

You're a Mitzi.

You're a tall, handsome,
marriage-ruining manicurist.

- It's different for us.
- Maybe it isn't.

Maybe you're just a person
who's hurting another person.

Not if she never finds out.

But she did find out.
She just thinks you're me.

You know what?

Tom and I had something
really good going on.

Now, because of you,
he can't even come to this house.

My dear brother, allow me to offer
my sincere apologies

that we are not at the fraternal order
of the Stag lodge

with our fellow Stag brethren
as per tradition.

But as you know, I am being
hunted by a homicidal Cuban mobster.

So we must perform this most glorious
of rutting rituals here

on this lowly ground.

We shall bless the nuptial bed
in the commensurate fashion.

What are they doing?

They're Stag brothers.

When one Stag weds,
the other Stags fight him.

He's in ritualistic rut.

That's stupid.

You're married into society now, Mitzi.

There are all kinds of inanities
you'll endure

as you stare into the middle distance.

How long will this last?

The middle distance?

Thirty or forty years.

No. The...

rutting.

They'll be out there for ages.

I have an errand to run.

- I'm stuck.
- You're stuck.

- I'm stuck.
- Yeah, I'm stuck too.

In the morning
In the evening

Whoo Ain't we got fun

We got no money

- Evelyn?
- But honey, whoo

We are fucked. Fucked.

Evelyn... Are you in the bath?

We are fucked, Maxine.

What is going on here? I thought you were
working at securing our future?

Don't read those.

I wasn't supposed to, but...

They're Dinah's love letters.
Here. Listen to this.

"Your throbbing man member is only dwarfed

by your massive man heart."

- That's...
- Sweet. I know.

They really loved each other.

Evelyn, are you laughing?

Oh, no, you're crying.

- That's so human of you.
- Don't be disgusting.

I didn't get the signatures.
Now everything's gone to shit.

I don't think there's
much of a difference anyway.

I'm still a murderess
in the eyes of that awful officer.

And my name is unclearable now that
Norma's trail has gone cold in the Alps.

- The Alps?
- Yeah.

Maxine,

Norma used to vacation in the Alps.

That trail might not be so cold after all.

Wait. What are you saying?
That there might be hope?

Yes.

Unfortunately,

only one person ever
went with Norma to the Alps.

I'm gonna need some coffee.

Your hope lies in the hands of...

Mary, is that your Arabian Night
Benefit to Save the Songbird turban?

Indeed it is.

Gorgeous.

I'm afraid you've come
at a rather wan moment.

I haven't seen the ghost of my bootlegger
in days,

and I've been trying to contact him
on my Aunt Paige's Ouija board.

That's convenient.

I've been steeping myself in the occult,
talking to ancestors.

Why, just yesterday I communed
with Marie Antoinette.

An ancestor?

No, just a close friend.

Look, I need to know where you
and Norma stayed in the Alps.

Mr. Davidsoul always made
the arrangements.

And when we returned
I would always feel blue.

So, David would give me
shock treatments to, as he put it,

clear the cobwebs from my chimney.

And you, Evelyn? What do you seek?

A signature.

We are making a play to buy
the Palm Royale

and we need the three D's to sign off,
so if you just oblige us

with your Jane Hancock.

Oh, no, it's David's name. I can't.

Well, you'll have to ask him yourself.

Sorry, isn't Mr. Davidsoul rather...

dead?

Before we begin, are either of you
on your period?

No.

Thank you, Mary.

- I don't wanna touch it.
- I'm not touching it.

No need, no need.

Which query would you like
Mr. Davidsoul to address first?

Ask him where Norma stays in the Alps.

No. Ask him if it's okay for you to sign.

- No, Evelyn. It's more impor--
- This is more importa--

Shush!

Mr. Davidsoul doesn't like it
when women argue. It crosses his haywires.

N-O...

No. No?

R-M...

- A... Norma.
- Norma.

D-I-E-D...

Died?

I-N... T-H-E...

A-L-P-S.

Norma died in the Alps?

What does that mean?

Maybe... Maybe she died in the Alps.

F-U...

Still a bitch. Even from the beyond.

Did Mr. Davidsoul come through?
What did he say?

David loves the idea.
He said you should sign immediately.

And did you get your answer?

Well, I think the "FU"
was specifically for me.

The spirits don't prevaricate.

They also said Norma died in the Alps.

If that's true, who's trying to frame me
for her murder?

Well, how should I know?
I'm not a detective.

My dearest Robert.
If all went according to plan,

you're enjoying the spoils
of the Dellacorte mansion.

God knows you've earned it.

I'm sorry I had to leave
under these circumstances.

But I promise all will be revealed
in due time.

Meanwhile, I ask two favors.

One, please continue to exaggerate
the reports of my death.

And two, send the five
Entwistle portraits of me

to the Swiss National Portrait Gallery

to hang proudly
in the Hall of Dellacortes.

I want to take my rightful place
among them, high above the Floogenurgen.

Floginorgeen? Floginorgeen. Floo...

Don't try to say it.

It's where I spent those first
lonely years.

But I want you to know
I was never lonely for one second

when I was in your splendid presence.

Hello?

- Mitzi.
- Hi.

I came to leave a note for Maxine,
but I can come back later.

I can give it to her, if you want.

- Okay.
- Yeah, sure.

- Thanks.
- Yeah.

Mitzi...

Do you ever regret what you did?

With Douglas, I mean.

I wasn't married. He was.

If you're planning on pinning
your dreams on Douglas...

please don't.

What are you doing here?

What they're saying about me,
it's not the truth.

Then what is the truth?

Your husband is...

is...

My husband is what?

Your husband is...

the best lover I have ever had in my life.

I mean, just mind-blowing.

His man member is the manliest
member I can 'member.

Wait.

I'm so sorry that I hurt you.
Please don't blame him.

I'm going through a divorce,
which I'm sure you know,

and it's caused me to act like
a home-wrecking prostitute.

I'm sure you can understand.

And I'm sure he loves you very much.

Enjoy your dinner.

I'm so sorry you won't be able
to purchase the Palm Royale.

Perry told me all about your little plan.

But if you're looking for some way
to make your life more meaningful,

we'd love to have you volunteer
for Perry's mayoral campaign.

Perry's not gonna be mayor.

So many of them.

What do you want?

A Donahue signature.

Or everyone will know the many,
many sexual positions

the would-be-mayor's wife enjoyed
with her tennis coach.

Remember how many papers Maxine sold?

Of course I'll sign.

With Norma gone, we have to look out
for each other, don't we?

It's a scary world out there.

Especially now that there's a new new girl

who may be smarter than we think.

It must have been hard for you
to read those letters.

I didn't read a word.

Thank you.

Now, all I need is a Dellacorte.

- I spy with my little eye...
- What?

...a Dellacorte.

I was wrong.

What I said earlier.
It is different for you. And for Tom.

And I'm sorry.

I thought you were worried about
your reputation.

You mean more to me than the Palm Royale.

You should know that.

You're a good friend.

I know.

Oh, my.

Mitzi came by earlier
and she left this for you.

"It's done. We're married."

Not much of a writer, is she?

Thanks.

Yellow. Dr. Dusty, what can I do you for?

It's Maxine.
I hope I'm not calling too late.

Oh, no. I'm fine.
I'm just with a patient right now.

- One minute.
- Oh, wow. You're still at work?

Oh, yeah. Good doctor's always on-call.
Like a priest and a hooker.

- Can I tell you a little secret?
- Sure.

I'm awful glad you called.

I just wanted to say thank you
for getting me off today.

Legally speaking.

Well, it's my pleasure.
Legally speaking, as well.

And I think you're right.

My story has gotten a bit rotten lately.

Maybe it is time for a... a new chapter.

Well, why don't we meet up in person?
Maybe grab a couple cocktails.

Are you asking me out on a date?

I'll call you tomorrow.

It looks like it's been through hell.

I don't care what you give me for it.
I just want that thing out of my life.

Yeah, I'm gonna have
to melt it down for parts.

Nobody wants a ring with
somebody's name engraved on it.

What?

There's no name on my ring.

Looks like it was done with a pen
or something.

Underneath the stone, around the setting.
"A-G-N-E-S."

"Anges."

Agnes.

Agnes.

'Tis time.

Time?

The rutting ceremony is complete.

So, 'tis time.

I'm addressing our wedding invitations.

For our real wedding.

I went with the ecru card stock.

They are beautiful.

Just like you.

I don't think 'tis time for that.

Well, of course. 'Tis time.

That's what that means.

I didn't even get a ring.

Well, I'll get you a ring so big
it'll make your back hurt.

Good.

Because I also want 12 bridesmaids
and two showers.

One for me, and one for the baby.

But until that happens...

I'm on the couch.

Pretzel up, Doug.

There's something different about you.

I'm Mrs. Douglas Dellacorte now.

Norma?

Is that you?

Is somebody there?

Hello?

Hey!

Well, I guess this is who we are now.

For now.

Safe and sound.

In your house.

Robert.

Yeah?

Who's Agnes?

Get comfy.

There's something else I need to tell you.