All language subtitles for Only.Murders.in.the.Building.S02E09.WEBRip.x264-ION10-English

You're listening to
All is Not OK in Oklahoma

from Cinda Canning.

I wasn't expecting
to find anything related

to the disappearance of Becky.

- What the fuck is in Bo's mouth?

Becky's panties!

- I'm Leonora Folger, the mother of Bunny.

Where the fuck is my painting?

- You bought the painting
from the artist, Rose Cooper?

She went missing.

- Dad? Dad!
- It's okay, buddy!

- I was having an affair
with your father for years.

- I thought Rose Cooper was.

- She was, too.

- We're texting with the killer!

- We tell him we'll put
the matchbook in a trashcan

outside Morningside Park, and then...

twist!
Glitter.

- There goes our best chance
at clearing our names.

Who is Glitter Guy?

Damn it! He has the matchbook!

- What's stopping me from
locking you up today, huh?

- I'm sorry. I'm sorry.

Last year, the NYPD had a budget

of $5.5 billion.

That's a billion with a "B."

My salary was 85,819 before taxes,

alimony, and the mortgage on this
fuckin' dump where I also live.

If you divide 85,819 by 5.5 billion,
you get...

I have no fuckin' idea,
but it's a drop in the bucket.

Try living on that in New York City.
It's impossible.

So you take other jobs.

You work security at Coney Island,

or you help out departments in small towns

that might not be equipped
to handle things

like multiple homicides
or missing persons,

shit like that.

You get in,
you get out, you get paid.

You go through the motions.

But every once in a while,
you meet someone

and everything changes.

You see a gal in a bar,

or a guy, if that's your thing,

and you toss out some Cary Grant BS like,

"What brings someone like you
to a joint like this?"

And she, or he, if that's your thing,

they smile at you,

and your whole goddamn universe
turns upside down.

And that's when shit gets really crazy.

- Kreps is Glitter Guy.

Oh. It's ASL for "glitter."
Oh.

That's kind of fun.

- I know.
- But why would Kreps kill Bunny?

I mean, did he want her painting?

- I don't know. He doesn't seem
like the kind of guy

who would kill for a piece of art.

- Money is a very strong motive.

- True, if he even got the painting,

but why would he frame us?

- And this is the brilliant mind behind
the whole set-up? I don't think so.

- Yeah, something is not right.

But, if so,
someone's puppet-mastering a cop?

I mean, how?

- I think I know who did this.

That is a great name for a TV show.

Remind me that "Criminal Mastermind"
is a great name for a TV show.

- What about Kreps' backpack?

And what is this logo?

I feel like I've seen it somewhere.
Chickens are so weird-looking.

- I know. I mean, who was the first person
who looked at a chicken and said,

"Yum! I'll bet that's delicious."

- After everything that's happened,
I don't know if I have what it takes

to go up against a cop.

- I know what you're thinking. "Have we
reached that point in our friendship

when we can just show up at each other's
apartments in our nightclothes?"

- No, we haven't.
- "Nightclothes"?

- But I just had to tell you
both the good news.

According to the DNA results,

I am, in fact, Will's biological father.

- Hey! Congratulations!
- Oh, that's great!

- Thank you.
Well, no big surprise.

I mean, a blind man
could see we're related.

- So does that mean you're Greek?

- Greek-ish.

- What's Greek-ish?

- Well, you know how
I thought I was Ir-ish?

Greek-ish.

There's no real difference.
All the European countries

are essentially the same.

But now, to celebrate...

You brought Mrs. Gambolini?

- Well, this delightful creature
kept me up all night

telling me to go fuck myself,

which is why I look like
Nick Nolte after Mardi Gras.

So, I am gifting her to you.

- No, no, no! Bunny gave her to you!

You keep it.
- Charles, if you do not take this bird,

it will literally be tomorrow's paté.

- Oliver, I do not have
anything in the apartment

that goes to the bathroom out in the open!

It's a rule I have!

- This is humiliating.

- What is this?

- No fucking way.

- That's the original.

- Are you sure?
- I'm pretty sure.

- And the woman in the painting
is the artist Rose Cooper?

- That's right.

- But why would Bunny make a fake?

- So she could hang
the inexpensive fake painting...

- Oh, and hide the real one under her--

I know who did it...

Shut up!

- What are you doing here?

- Hi. Um, I come bearing gifts.

Well, a gift.

Also, I really need to have a wee.

- Thanks.

What do you want, Alice?

To take more of my story?

To make my trauma
into more of your shitty art?

- Ouch.

I deserve that. I don't want anything.
I just wanted to give you that.

- A puzzle?

- It's a peace offering.

I know how much you like puzzles,
so I made one for you.

I made it with an X-Acto knife,
um, in the middle of a blackout,

which may have been a mistake.

I'm not trying to look for sympathy.
I just...

wanted to give you context
for any imperfections

or bloodstains you might find.

But, if you do wanna be
sympathetic towards me--

- You know, I...

I should thank you.

- For what?
- For making me realize

that I don't want my life
to be all about the worst parts of it.

I have more to offer than that.

I thought you'd be cross forever.

Does that mean...

- No.

I like you, Alice.

But I don't trust you.

And I can't be
with someone I don't trust.

- I understand.

Well, if you ever need something...

anything, please.

You have my number. Goodbye, Mabel.

Yes, Leonora Folger.
I know she lives there.

What do you mean she's "not verbal"?

She was highly verbal
and a little bit mean, actually,

when she showed up
at my building a few weeks ago.

She hasn't left there in how long?

Okay. Got it.

Under...

"Celebrations"?

Ah...

Thank you. Sorry to bother.

Oh, Charles, you've been had.

- Just take my suggestion,
add even more padding to the lion's hips.

Other than that, this looks great.
W-what is your problem?

- We open in three days,
and it's back to being a shit show.

The Munchkins all forgot
your choreography.

Dorothy threatened to walk
because she says

the Scarecrow shouldn't
be played by neurotypical actor.

- Oh wow.
- And then the blackout hit

when we were in rehearsals,

and I had five screaming, crying
flying monkeys hanging from the ceiling.

It's gonna be a disaster,
and it's all my fault.

- Willie. Willie. You can do this.

You know why?
Because the theater is in your blood.

You're a Putnam.

For real.

- What, you got the DNA results?

- I am so Greek, I could be
Jennifer Aniston's stand-in.

I'm so Greek, I could go bankrupt,
and no one in the world would help me.

- Wow, that's...

- What?

- I don't know. I just...

I didn't realize how much was weighing
on me until this moment.

- Well, I want you to stop worrying.

Please? Just...

Come here. Come here.

I love you, baby.

- I love you, too.

Thanks, Dad.

- We're good. It's fine.
- You know what?

I feel like I can do this now.

- You're a Putnam.

Hello?

Hello?

- Looks like we're in for a fight.

Oh.

Looks like we're in for a fight.

Jesus, I need a life.

- Well, if it isn't Bloody Mabel.

Where's the, uh, dusty grandpappies?

- And who are you supposed to be?

Rocky Zero? Great White Dope?

Raging Bullshitter?

I can keep going.

I love boxing movies. And puns.

- Why the fuck are you here?

- Just wanted to ask some questions.

- Well, that ain't how this works,
see, 'cause I, uh...

I'm the cop.

- How's your arm?

The one I stabbed after you attacked me.

- Alright, Mabel.

What kind of a stupid
fucking name is Mabel?

Dumbass name.

You want to ask me questions?

You can ask questions.

Throw these on.

Yeah.

- You found it.
- I found you.

Rose Cooper.

- Oh.
Well, tell me something I don't know.

- You ever box?

- I take a cardio boxing class
every Tuesday and Thursday.

- You're adorable.

Hold the bag.

Eh? I know, right?

- Sorry. I was daydreaming.

Have you thrown a punch yet?
I just felt a slight breeze.

- You know what?
- Saw glitter on your neck.

- I don't know what you're talking about.

- How'd you know about the evidence
drop-off at Morningside Park?

- I still don't know
what you're talking about.

- A matchbook with your fingerprint on it.

- Oh, that's gone.

And it wasn't my fingerprint.

- Alright. In the ring. Let's go.

- Let's go.

- I am not saying
it's entirely your fault.

I shouldn't have left it on the bed,
but it was cashmere.

We don't pee on things
just because they're soft.

Oh, hello, Teddy.

- Oliver.

- I'll kill you!
- Ah!

- Arm's still sore, I see.

Why'd you kill Bunny Folger?
- I didn't it.

- You stabbed her with a knife
and tried to frame me.

- Okay, that's enough.

Alright? Enough.

- See, what I can't
figure out, though,

is how you were able to pull off
such an intricate plan.

I mean, framing innocent people,
secret passageways.

I mean, I was a bad student,
but you're just...

a stupid man.

There's no way that you could pull off
a murder this sophisticated.

- I said that's enough!

And what do you think's
gonna happen here, Mabel?

You think I'm gonna show you something
I don't wanna show you?

You think I'm gonna say something
I don't wanna say?

'Cause that's not how this works,

no matter how many stupid shit-headed
insults you throw at me.

'Cause I'm a fuck of
a lot smarter than that.

Put 'em up.
- Alright, mitts up.

- Mitts up.

- You son of a bitch!
- What the fuck?!

You can't win this, Teddy!

- Oh, th-this doesn't look good.
Uh, should I just wait for the next one?

- No, no, no, no! No, no.
C-come in. It's all good.

You son of a bitch!

- Oh god! Oh! Okay! Okay, okay, guys!

Alright, you guys have fun. Be safe, okay?

- Oh, my bone! Ouch!

Jesus Christ.

What the hell is wrong with you?

Why are you doing this?!

- Oh, don't act like you...

You don't know, do you?

You're my son's father!

You piece of shit!

- What?

- So, the Cocotinis are yours,
not Leonora Folger's.

- I knew enough about her to pull off

a little day trip into the city.

But, I think I'm slipping now.

I don't know how you actors do it,

pretending to be somebody else
all the time. It's exhausting.

- You pulled it off
like the master you are.

- It's exciting for you, isn't it?

Figuring out little mysteries.

- Not so little.

The world has been wondering
about you for years.

- The world, please.

A pocket of the art world

who wanted nothing to do with me

before I went missing.

- Did you go into hiding
because my father was threatening you?

I don't know a lot about my father,

but I don't think he was a good man.

And it has haunted me my whole life.

And then...

you came along.

- I hope that you charge rent

to the people inside your head.

You'd make a fortune.

Do you have the painting, please?

- I do.

- You're a crooked fuckin' cop, Kreps.

A crooked cop who stabbed
a defenseless old woman,

and you're trying to pin it on me,
and I'm gonna nail you for it!

- Ah!

You know what your problem is?

You know what your entire fuckin'
generation's problem is, Mora?

- I don't know. Boy bands?
- Nah.

Your parents told you
you could be anything you want,

and your stupid teachers
reinforced that bullshit,

so you come out with your little TikToks

and your fuckin' podcasts like everybody
wants to hear what you have to say.

Nobody gives a fuck
about what you have to say.

I'm stupid?

You don't know anything about me.

If I'm so stupid,
how come I was able to land

the smartest woman on the planet?

Huh? If I'm so stupid,

how come I'm able to do a better podcast
than you idiots in two seconds flat?

- Thought you hated podcasts.
- Yeah,

I hate stupid amateur bullshit
podcasts like yours.

Your podcast sucks.

The OG ones?
All is Not OK?

That takes some talent.

That takes some intelligence.

Trust me.

I should know.

- I'm not scared of you.

- Yeah, well, you should be, you fuck.
Okay?

Because I'm the lead detective
on a murder case where somebody

keeps making you the lead suspect.

That's fuckin' scary.

Or maybe you're too stupid to realize
what the fuck is going on here, huh?

You know, people go away for things they
didn't do all the time. Remember that.

Tough guy.

Now, take that
shit-eating grin off your face,

and get the fuck out of my gym.

Oh...

Oh, give it. Give it, give it.

Mm...
Look.

See, there's the tear in the canvas.
- Yes.

Yes...

- So, it is the original.
- Well,

only one way to know for certain.

Wait, let me try.

No, you do it.

Mm.
- Pull out the nails?

- Just pull out the nail.

There's something I need you to see.

If I'm so stupid,
how come I was able to land

the smartest woman on the planet?

The OG ones?

All is Not OK?

That takes some talent.

That takes some intelligence.

Trust me. I should know.

You're listening to
All is Not OK in Oklahoma.

- Ow!
- Can I get you something?!

Coffee? Water?

A swift kick in the dick?

- Look, Oliver, let me explain--

Oh no, no, no.
You don't have to.

I was up all night talking to Roberta.
She told me what happened.

- Did she tell you it only happened once?

- She said twice.

- One night, two times.

- Well, now you're just bragging.

Tell me, Teddy, how many
other women in the building

did you impregnate
with your oily Grecian sperm?

D-d-do you sell it by
the quart like your hummus?

- You're insane. I'm leaving.

- He's all I've got, Teddy.

If I lose my son, I've g...

I've got nothing.

I feel like the worst father in the world.

- Are you kidding?

On your worst day,
you didn't drag your son

into a criminal enterprise
or cover up his involvement

in someone's death.

- True.

But I did recently encourage him

to get involved in the theater, so...

- Well, that's bad.
- Yeah.

Becky Butler's
disappearance in Chickasha, Oklahoma,

in 2015 sent shockwaves through town.

She'd evaporated just
like the man-made lake

at the abandoned
Chickasha putt-putt course.

With no body, and no clues,

freelance police officers

from bigger cities descended upon the town

to help find Becky or her killer.

Also arriving was one intrepid podcaster

who never had a good hair day
south of the Mason-Dixon.

Yours truly.

Every night, I'd go to the local
bar and grill, The Chicken Chug,

whose orange and green chicken logo

seemed to be everywhere in town.

There, I'd mingle with tipsy townsfolk
and homesick cops,

working them for clues and gossip.

It's amazing the allies you can make

over a Chicken Chug wings tub.

- I didn't see it.

I heard it.

- Yeah, this painting on top,

oh, that was for me.

And the one underneath...

this was for him.

The man he most wanted to be.

A father to his boy.

He was my love.

He tried to keep me safe...

from a rage-filled husband.

I had to leave. To keep us both safe,

I had to disappear myself.

We never saw each other again.

- He died heartbroken.

- What is the thing
about fathers and sons?

Why is that relationship so hard?

- Oh. I don't know.

Biology. Hubris.

Good old-fashioned stupidity.

Were you close to your father?

- Well, I-I tried to be.

He was a door-to-door salesman.

A real-life Willy Loman.

So, he was gone a lot.

But when he was home,

I would do whatever I could
to get his attention.

Hence my...

what some would describe
as "extra" persona.

How about you?

- Fuck no. I hated him.

He was killed in the back room
of a Chinese restaurant

by a Korean bookie.

Took two to the chest.

- Okay, this isn't a competition.

- I'm just saying...

because of that...

all I ever wanted was to have
a good relationship with Theo.

Like the one you have with Will.

And I fucked it up.

- Will you do me a favor?

- Aren't we square at this point?

You send me to jail, I fuck your wife?

- Just...

promise me...

that you'll never tell Will.

I told Roberta this, too.

I mean, if you two managed to keep

the mere possibility of this
a secret all these years,

can't we just keep on keeping on
for the sake of Will?

- I'll do whatever you want me to do.

- Thank you.

Twice?

- I was younger.

- Hey.

- You shouldn't be here.
Cinda could be back any minute.

- Well, where is she?

- Uh, vocal massage.

She pays a Thai guy to rub her throat.
What do you want me to tell you?

- Well, this will be quick. I--
- The other day

when I said that I could help you,
that was a mistake.

I can't do anything else for you.

Please just... leave me in peace.

- Bunny Folger's murder?

That cop Kreps?

This all has something to do with
All is Not OK in Oklahoma.

I just can't figure out how.

It's like I'm missing
a puzzle piece somewhere.

- You should let this go.

You should go, and you should let this go.
- Poppy--

- Mabel! Please go.

- You deserve to have this, Charles.

- Thank you.

- Better you than that woman that came
sniffing around a few months ago.

- What woman?

- Poppy, what do you know?
What are you so scared of?

- You don't know what she's capable of.

You don't know what she'd do
to get what she wants.

- She had brown hair and... glasses.

- Cinda Canning?

- I don't know her name,
but she was so pushy.

- Cinda Canning?

Seriously? You're that terrified

of a Peabody Award-winning podcaster

who solved the disappearance
and murder of Becky Butler?

- Yes.

Everyone has secrets.

Things we've done
that we don't talk about.

Things we can't explain.

Like when you go to help out
on a case in Bumblefuck USA

just to make a little extra coin.

You plan to get in,
you plan to get out, get paid.

Go through the motions.

Lemme get a beer.

- Why?

- Because I'm Becky Butler.

But every once in a while,
you meet someone...

and everything changes.

And your whole goddamn universe
turns upside down.

And that's when shit gets really crazy.

- Well, shit.