All language subtitles for Pushing.Daisies.S02E06.720p.HDTV.x264-CTU-eng

Pushing Daisies - Season 02 Episode 06
"Oh Oh Oh... It's Magic!"

Subtitle (720p CTU v.1.00): A�S Team
--==All-about-Subs.fr==--

At this very moment
in the town of Coeur d'Coeurs,

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 died,
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, 13 hours,
and 7 minutes later.

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 forms
of popular entertainment,

like boxarate tae-kill-do cage-fighting
or monster trucks on ice.

To certain factions
of the god-fearing public,

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

Magically delicious little devils.

Oh, I thought you were...

magically delicious little devils.

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 just magically
julienned the cherries.

But wait, there's more.

- Oh! A magic show!
- Oh! 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 to be.

He magically put
those tickets in that pie.

If by "magically", you mean

"made you look that way so you wouldn't
see what they were doing this way",

then, yes, those tickets
alakazammed their way

right underneath
that delicious, flaky crust.

Or Hocus pulled the damn tickets
out of his pocket

and Pocus slid them
under the pie pan,

as evidenced by the cherry-rhubarb
crumble on his sleeve.

We're performing after the second
performance of the Great Herrmann.

He's the big, muckety-muck 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.

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 that you
didn't know I existed until last week.

I'd like to RSVP
in the resoundingly affirmative.

I thought you said
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're gonna heckle.

But shazam...

I have a ticket.

I'll be there, front and center,
loud and applauding,

snapping like a beatnik or praising
the lord, whatever you'd like.

Loud and applauding!
Loud and applauding!

And preferably amazed.
What do you say, fr�re pie maker?

Look! There's a ticket
with your name on it.

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You barely said a word to them.

I barely know them.
I saw them once when I was 9,

and they were just those little bastards
my father was cheating on me with.

Those little bastards
are now your little brothers.

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

What he said.
There should be a grace period,

then a getting-to-know-you period,
then a dinner on a national holiday.

I invite them to the pie hole,
and suddenly it's,

"fr�re pie maker, come to our show."

- It's a magic show.
- What do you got against a magic show?

There's sequins and drama
and the promise of bloodshed.

Next to pageants,
they're my favorite thing.

- They give me acid reflux.
- Oh, here.

Suck a lozenge.

A lozenge that'll make me forget
they're putting on a magic show,

the kind of show my dad put on,
so what they're pulling out

of their magic hats isn't a rabbit,
it's my childhood trauma.

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

I was just about to tell y'all
to shut the hell up,

and then you stopped talking
so I didn't have to.

Maurice and Ralston are the family
that you didn't know you had.

If I could talk to my aunt Lily
as the mother I didn't know I had...

Oh, 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 b�b�?

Have you ever had a b�b�?

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 acid's 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 big hug?

I'm already 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
that you came into their lives.

Perhaps you can take some heat off me.
The boys are rather needy.

We'll talk about it later.

Pretty girl, pretty girl, and you...

I sense you're a great investigator
of things unsolved...

named after a poet and a fish.

I sense you better give me my wallet
'fore 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?

And how do you propose 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 mass
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 then welded shut.

Demented and cemented,

I give you "Cementia"!

If my shackles are secure, Mr. Cod,
then kindly return to the audience.

Applause for Emerson Cod!

Now you see me...

It was no accident
I chose you to volunteer.

I require your keen eye

in investigation of things
in a personal matter.

Someone has been killing
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 murdered 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 kill
all your animals?

While we can appreciate and sympathize
with your predicament, Mr Herrmann...

Please, call me Great.

No.

We're private detectives,
not pet detectives.

It would sully my reputation
as an expert in the field

if I were to take to investigating

missing "puddy tats"
or dead "bunny wabbits".

I want to help missing
puddies and dead 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 want to 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.

I had real good seats to that show.

I was the dress rehearsal.
The show sucked then.

What do you tell
a couple of kids you've never met

that their dad, who you've never met,
has just dropped 'em like they were hot?

You can't sugarcoat that turd.

No, not effectively.
What did you tell them?

What they wanted to hear.

That their dad was an important man
with important-man matters to attend to.

Blah, blah, blah.
Please stop crying. Blah.

Did their da...
my dad say anything to you?

What was he gonna say?
"Hey, the boys'll be hungry in an hour"?

He was ditching the kids at
a Sunday matin�e, 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 do love those boys,

but that plate of tasty pat�
with the tuna sauce was not a promise.

It was the promise of sisterly devotion
that concerned Lily.

30 years, 9 months ago,
Lily broke that promise

when she was impregnated
by her sister Vivian's fianc�.

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.

Oh, 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!

It's 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% 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 snorts and giggles
are the raisins in my oatmeal.

No, I'm here for something...
a common brass pocket watch.

It belonged to Charles, hence it had
a "CC" engraved on the back.

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

We got 'em when we were
in service together.

I don't recall a 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 to her.

That would be cruel.

Not as cruel as what you did, but
no need to quantify your sister's pain.

Hey, don't come for me, fella.
I fight dirty.

I don't want to fight.

I need to change
your perception of me.

Let's sit down and tear a pheasant
together... you, me, and your sister.

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

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 the Great Herrmann
took to the stage

for his second performance
of the night...

Now you see me...

A murder investigation
was being performed

under the proscenium arch
of his dressing room.

Poor Mercury.

- I wish you could tell who did you in.
- He's a monkey.

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

Well, 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 that
she was poisoned.

We got a monkey
flattened by a sandbag.

Means the killer knows
their way around backstage.

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

Killer knows
how the Great Herrmann's tricks work.

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

Killer knows how to make a sandwich.

The lettuce was supposed to stay
on the sandwich

and be eaten by the Great Herrmann.

The falling sandbag, the rigged jacket.
Killer wasn't trying to kill animals.

Killer was trying to kill
the Great Herrmann.

He didn't get out!

He didn't get out!

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.

The Great Herrmann performed
that trick a thousand times.

What did he do
with all those cement blocks?

Donated them to the Papen County Marine
Institute to create artificial reefs.

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

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

Poor Herrmann.

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 a pig that haven't been
impaled, poisoned, or bludgeoned

that 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.

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 called me "son",

which felt like someone
rubbed their feet across a shag rug,

reached into my chest
and gave my heart a static-electric pop.

I always loved
that static-electric pop.

It's all very confusing.

There's murdered magic dads and

the promise of tasty pat�
with tuna sauce.

What do you think you were saying?
'cause that ain't what came out.

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 justice, because
what kind of example would that be?

I mean regular
go-to-jail-for-your-crimes justice.

You gonna kick someone's ass,
fr�re 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 him
plenty of time to get out.

- Why didn't he get out?
- Don't know.

It's pretty cramped in there.
Maybe he got a clot and passed out.

- How'd he usually get out?
- He doesn't tell me that stuff.

The monkey knows more than I do.

- You mean the dead monkey?
- Yes, the dead monkey.

What, are you gonna try
and pin that one on me, too?

- What about Fred and Ginger?
- Don't forget the rabbit.

Alice was the only one I liked.

Damn monkey was mean.

And those birds...
those horrible birds.

Every time they'd fly out
of his pockets, they'd attack my weave.

So when animals attack, you attack back,
then kill the guy who trained them.

No, I stand there
humiliated by a mean monkey

night after night for eight years.

I told myself no more than 3,
but it's been 8.

I stand there, and I 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 carrot-dangling
while the Bobbsey Twins pass you by?

Honey, you've been spurned,

and next to the spurned lover,
the spurned employee rides shotgun

on the homicide chuckwagon.

Herrmann and anyone he shared a stage
with has ended up dead, except you.

Which means you're the killer...

Killer.

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's the kind that bites
the 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 surefire 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 on stage 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.

Did you swallow a magnet?

Somebody must've had one
in their pocket.

That's an amazing talent,
Mister Geek.

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

Any idea why he couldn't get out
of that box?

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'd agreed you'd call
before dropping by unexpectedly,

which would have been
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.

Evening.

Evening.

We walked out of that sandstorm
with our boots, our 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 and kicking 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 just wanted you to leave.

If Lily wants to keep that watch,
she should keep it.

She didn't keep it.

We buried it with our niece,
lonely tourist Charlotte Charles.

It was her father's.
We wanted her to have it.

That poor girl murdered 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!
- 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?

He wouldn't disappeared
unless he had to.

He's an important man. He probably
had important-man matters to attend to.

That's what Herrmann told us
when dad left.

That's why "oh". It was an attempt to
corral those words back into my mouth.

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,

48 weeks, 26 days,
and 7 hours earlier,

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 an important man.

He didn't have important-man matters
to attend to.

Your dad...

our dad...

was just some guy ditching
his kids at a Sunday matin�e.

That's what Herrmann told me.
That's what he didn't tell you.

He didn't want to hurt you anymore
than you had already been hurt.

You sure didn't have
a problem telling us.

Yeah!

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

I probably sound like some
horrible missionary showing up

and telling the natives
they're worshipping 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 using a mop.

Why would you say that?

I get anxiety-induced acid reflux
at the mere 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 years ago.

Good for you.

I know my acid reflux
is just heartburn,

and your heart's burning, too.

Look at the way you're holding on
to 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, now you don't note?

Yeah,
it probably should've been, huh?

The great Herrmann is dead.
He died 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.

I should have took my ass home,
turned off my phone,

and got up 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.

Killer shuffles the blocks, hides
the one with Herrmann's body in it, and

everybody thinks the great Great just
disappeared into his disappearing act.

And no body, no murder.

Makes for a great urban legend,
though.

How do you shuffle
a 500-pound block of cement?

Forklift.

Only one block was forklifted out
of the Conjurer's Castle tonight.

Which means the other one
is still inside.

The switch had to happen somewhere
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.

Well, I always loved
a good treasure hunt.

The private investigator,
the pie maker and Chuck

began their search under the stage.

It might not be
the cement that killed him.

We could chisel open that block
and find a murder weapon, like

a Mojave rattlesnake
or a hidden hypodermic needle

that the Great Herrmann unknowingly
injected himself with whilst contorting.

Or we could 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 boohoo bosom done dried up.

Well, my boohoo bosom
is plumping and brimming with milk.

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?

There's something underneath
these floorboards.

I give you "Cementia".

Herrmann slid right off the stage

and dropped into
this strategically jackhammered grave.

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

Maybe the killer wanted
the great Herrmann

to be part of
the Conjurer's Castle forever.

If the killer cared that much, you'd
think he'd at least break out his trowel

and make the thing look nice.
Look at those edges.

He's got to fill all 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 the Great Herrmann.

Whoever dropped this block in there

is back to make sure Herrmann is
part of the Conjurer's Castle forever.

That's his killer?

No, no! Fools rush in!

We're not fools!

Over there!

They sprang like attack monkeys.

I'll take care of them.
You take care of him.

Do either of you have a gun?

- No.
- No.

I'm going with Emerson.

Don't be going around chasing
murder suspects willy-nilly.

What you gonna do?
Use your wonder-twin powers?

Wait for me!

- Emerson.
- What?

In here.

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... he's...
he's gone.

You killed 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 killed him, too.

Is that how you're gonna frame me

after you beat me to death with
your metal detectors?

I am an unarmed woman.

Why don't you calibrate
those things to find your manhood?

If you didn't kill anybody
and you ain't running 'round

here burying bodies and disposing
of witnesses, what you doin' here?

Packing.

The universe killed Herrmann
to send me a message,

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

Yeah, well, my associates is out digging
up that carrot you been trying to bury,

and 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's" deadly embrace.

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 that
from your father.

And that's some potent kung fu.

Herrmann, look, I know that asking
a magician to reveal the secret

- behind his great escape is very rude.
- Then don't do it.

Nobody likes rude.

It could help us catch your killer.

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 trapdoors.

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 the Great Herrmann's shoes.

That's how he triggers
the trapdoor and escapes "Cementia".

Someone stole the magnets
so he couldn't escape.

After Herrmann died, there were
magnets in the Geek's stomach.

- So what?
- Sew buttons.

He ate the evidence.
The Geek's the killer.

The Geek ain't the killer.
The Geek is dead.

Black magic woman killed 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.
- You are. You are.

Thank you, and I want to 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 to get yourself
a bigger human shield or something.

You hanging out all sorts
of places I could shoot.

How about you just let
wee lady wee go?

Well, I have a gun, too.

I swallowed a pearl-handled pistol.

I'm cocking the trigger
with my stomach muscles right now,

and when it flies out of my mouth,
it's going to shoot 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 shooting
nobody in their face, Tums.

You are not gonna get away
with murder.

Ned, 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 murder.

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 have eaten
anything for that man.

I loved him like a father.

He shouldn't have called
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 future 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!

The Geek, a.k.a. Gunther Pinker,

regurgitator of fish, frogs,
mice and now kittens,

was arrested for the murder 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 had
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 fr�re 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.

I want you to have
that same nice feeling.

Do you want to 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...
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.

Say, when you were a jockey,

did you ride the horses or just
beat them after they were dead?

I'm not talking about a dead horse.
I'm talking about a dead daughter,

and that's an awful lot of weight
to haul around.

You are harshing my buzz.

Oh, I don't want to harsh.
I want to help.

Help me, help you carry the weight.

Oh, Lily, unburden yourself.

If Charlotte were alive right now

and you didn't have to worry
about Vivian settling your hash,

what would you say to her?

Is this the role-play part
where 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?

There's so many.

- I want to know everything.
- I want to know every...

everything?

Everything.

Start at the beginning.

Tell me about the...
the day I was born.

Could you tell me
about the day I was born?

I was at the nunnery.

It was 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.

Synchro:
Salomon & Gaillots

Rereading:
Bruno & Toupack

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