Show: Pushing Daisies - 2x11
Pushing Daisies - Season 02 Episode 11 "Window Dressed to Kill" Subtitles (BIA v.1.00): A�S Team --==All-about-Subs.fr==-- At this very moment, young Olive Snook was 9 years, 39 weeks, 19 hours, 59 minutes old and dressed to the nines.
Though she looked the picture of perfection, young Olive felt the very picture of neglection.
The party, in full swing, was the cause of her parents' current distraction.
But young Olive learned a lesson long ago.
She learned her mother and father did not need a diversion to be distracted from their daughter.
Young Olive dreamed of a life where she was actively loved and only occasionally ignored.
As happens often with Olive Snook, her dreams came true.
Just not quite how she intended.
According to her parents' testimony, young Olive Snook had been stolen away in a stolen vehicle by dangerous car thieves and kidnappers Jerry Holmes and Roy "Buster" Bustamante.
Their daughter was held for one day, one hour and 11 minutes before Jerry and Buster made their first ransom call.
Distraught and heartbroken, Olive's parents agreed to pay the undisclosed sum and contacted the police.
The police then...
set a trap.
The little girl / future jockey / pie-waitress-to-be watched as her abductors walked into the trap.
Jerry Holmes and Buster Bustamante were sentenced to 25 years to life.
8,264 hash marks on a wall later...
Jerry Holmes and Buster Bustamante busted out of the big house with only one person on their mind.
Olive Snook.
Who was, at this very moment, hanging from the pie maker she loved, who could never love her, or so she thought.
I'm sorry you never looked at me the same way you look at Chuck.
I wouldn't say never.
Confused, not by the particulars but by this particular usage, Olive read about sentence structure and the use of the double negative.
And with passive-aggressive panache, broached the subject with the pie maker.
Try this one again.
I definitely don't hate it.
What does that mean?
Just what I said.
You like it?
You tell me.
It wasn't less tasty than the "kick in the kumquat" but more unfulfilling than the "rock me amade quince".
I don't like giving funny names to the pies.
Does it not seem disrespectful?
There you go.
You did it again.
What did I do again?
Are you okay?
You've been acting a little unusual all day.
I think I've got post-traumatic stress from the cliff dive that almost turned us in handy baggies.
We're safe now, Olive.
I know but the whole thing keeps repeating on me, over and over, like a broken record or Mexican food.
You know, they say the more you face the trauma, the less power it has over you.
Okay, so there we were, about to die...
Get down, Olive.
You're gonna hurt yourself.
That's right, Ned.
Oh, no, I'm slipping.
I can't hold on much longer.
If you'd like to say anything, now would be the time, and if you could speak in the declarative only using affirmative or comparative modifiers...
People are eating pie.
Ding-dong, daddy.
Ding-dong!
That is heaven.
Pearway to heaven.
It's new.
You know, now that I'm out of debt, we can get back to just pie-baking and no longer touching dead fruit, I can eat my own pie.
I'm gonna get fat, aren't I?
While you're busy getting fat, there's a dead lady getting fished out in the Papen County fountain.
And I got a good feeling about it.
Ambulance sirens blaring and I've got my chasing shoes on.
Are you sure you don't want to untie those apron strings and lace up those chasin' laces?
My apron is staying on with its strings securely tied in a double figure-eight follow through knot.
I, for one, and you should be for two, am very supportive of your decision.
Because that's what friends do.
They support each other.
Lookee here.
Yes, the zapety-zap nearly turned everything to crapety-crap on account of dead girl and her digging-up-dead-daddy ways.
I apologized for that.
I wanna lead a normal life of a guy who just makes pies.
Who wants to be Superman?
Not me.
I say no to "Super" and yes to "Man".
I'm Clark Kent.
Well, that's just downright craptastic, Clark.
I now have an abnormally large amount of work to do on account of no-one here wants to touch a dead lady so I can ask who killed her.
Emerson!
Emerson!
What about me?
No conversation I ever want to have begins with those three words.
I got work to do.
Work that you don't have to do alone.
I mean, I may not be Superman but I'm smart and I'm helpful.
I mean...
Maybe I could be your sidekick.
I'd be the alive-again avenger who came back from the dead to solve her own murder and stayed back from the dead to bring justice to murder victims, with the help of a crusty unflappable streetwise gumshoe.
That'd make me the sidekick.
I'm good either way.
All right, then, sidekick avenger, since we no longer have Superman and his super finger, let me let you know this is an entirely different ballgame.
This game is all about the hustle.
I love the hustle.
Body's been identified off an employee ID from Dicker's Department Store as Erin Embry.
What is that smell?
It smells like Aunt Lily on a Sunday.
I mean, my mom, on a Sunday.
Single malt scotch.
Something I could use a shot of right now.
Cops think this was an accident.
A woman still in the holiday spirit, guzzles too many spirits, does a Gene Kelly round the rosy, slips, bonks her noggin, ends up in the fountain.
Which froze when the temperatures dipped overnight.
This is just a great big waste of my time.
There ain't no case here.
I'm not done with the hustle.
Well, you're gonna be dancing by yourself.
But instead of dancing by herself, Chuck found another partner to hold her hand in the only way he could.
Winter is my new best friend.
We should move to the South Pole.
Although I don't know if they have a need for pie in the South Pole, which puts a wrinkle in my freshly-starched...
life as a normal guy who makes pies, but I'd give it up if I could hold your hand every day.
The pie or the normal?
Either.
But I'd prefer to have my pie and be normal too.
Where are we going?
Dicker's Department Store.
That poor girl Erin Embry was murdered and she used to work in Dicker's.
Murdered?
I thought it was an accident.
No, they dismissed it as an accident but they do that every day.
They could have dismissed my murder.
They could have said that I slipped and fell overboard as opposed to what really happened.
I was strangled and thrown overboard.
Is this Dicker's Department Store?
That is just like the fountain where Erin died.
That cocktail-swilling mannequin is wearing the exact same dress Erin was wearing, and the same shoes!
This is the scene of the crime.
Yeah!
The alive-again avenger!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Let's go find Emerson and tell him that Erin Embry's murder is displayed in Dicker's Department Store.
I'm not an avenger.
I'm a pie maker.
I'm not gonna pretend to be something I'm not.
It's stressful.
So I'm gonna go to the Pie Hole and make my moniker proud.
Well, I'm gonna go and avenge and make my moniker proud.
Who needs a Superman?
You're my hero.
While the pie maker lingered on his alive-again avenger, Randy Mann, a taxidermist who once paid for friends, came to the Pie Hole, bearing a gift.
But said gift wasn't the first priority of his visit.
Hi-ho, pie bro!
Who are you calling "ho"?
Randy Mann.
Miss Olive, I meant no offense by that "ho".
The intent was to be jolly, not derogatory.
Is the pie maker present?
No?
I'll wait.
Can I get you a slice of pie?
One slice of everything, please.
Starting with your favourite of the day.
I don't think eating that much fruit is wise.
Are those the birds Ned had you stuff?
Yeah.
A birthday present for his magician brothers.
Wow's good, right?
Wow means you like it.
Yeah.
You sure do turn those birds around fast.
When starting a new business venture, it's important not to keep the customer waiting.
More important to Randy Mann was keeping himself from waiting to see Olive Snook.
And he wasn't the only person who couldn't wait to see Olive Snook.
Jiminy Kornflakes!
Those are the guys that kidnapped me when I was little!
Snook.
Olive Snook had closed early.
But not due to a lackadaisical work ethic or lack of patrons.
Oh, my God!
Randy!
Olive, did you hit him?
Did she hit you?
No.
He hit me.
I got a low platelet count and zero percent body fat.
That's a 1-2 punch for bruising.
That'd be funny if I hadn't been the one who got punched.
I told you not to do it.
I told him not to do it.
Sucker punch.
You're a sucker punch.
Take it easy, tough guy.
Could have been a whole lot worse.
Olive, who are these guys?
Who are any of us, really?
They're her childhood kidnappers.
They weren't exactly kidnappers.
What they were, exactly, was this.
Jerry and Buster were petty thieves but they were not kidnappers.
They were in the wrong car at the wrong time and were not alone.
Young Olive Snook had stowed away in their recently stolen car, hoping the old adage, "absence makes the heart grow fonder" would teach her neglectful parents a lesson.
Jerry and Buster wanted to return the little girl to her parents right away.
What's your name, Pickle?
But despite their attempts, she refused to tell them her name.
Their argument was hushed, so young Olive would not hear that repeated calls to her parents had gone unanswered and so as not to disturb Olive's love of cartoons.
The 2 days, 12 hours and 19 minutes young Olive Snook spent with Jerry Holmes and Buster Bustamante were the best 2 days, 12 hours and 19 minutes of her young life.
It was also the best of theirs.
After explaining the situation, the 2 men realized young Olive's parents hadn't even known she was gone.
They confronted the Snooks on their derelict parenting skills.
Mum and Dad Snook took umbrage and called the authorities.
As it was their word against the word of two petty thieves, the now accused kidnappers were sent away for the maximum the law would allow.
Knowing what she'd lost the minute they were gone, young Olive vowed to keep in touch.
She wrote them every week and never forgot.
And they, in turn, never forgot her.
Did you guys just get out?
Just.
Escaped.
The word that's supposed to follow that "just" is "escaped".
Hey, it's only a grudge over the shiner.
A grudge-holder, huh?
It's so wonderful that you came to see me.
It won't be wonderful when the police show up looking for ex-cons, and find some other ex-people we'd rather they didn't happen upon.
Which is why we need our Snook here to help get us across the border.
It's the least I can do.
You never should've gone to jail but no one believed that I ran away.
What do we always say about the past?
It makes an ass out of you and me.
Can we go back to "escaped" or am I the only one who finds that troubling?
Who's the worrywart?
That's Ned.
He owns the place.
The pie maker?
Boys...
Budge off that stool, cranky-pants, so I get a good look at the baker man who's gonna marry our little girl.
I thought you were...
Actually...
Me and Olive...
The pie maker considered how the truth would humiliate Olive and devastate the two sweet men whose only happiness came from knowing the little girl they loved most was loved most by the pie maker.
So he said: Me and Olive...
love each other very much.
And once again, Olive's dream came true.
Just, not quite how she intended.
Olive told me all about Jerry and Buster during one of her late-night girl talks.
We usually talk about Olive because I'm an all-or-nothing kind of girl and seeing as I can't tell her the truth...
Little peewee bothered to mention that she told poppa No.1 and poppa No.2 that your man ain't your man.
He's hers.
No, she didn't.
Loaning pie boyfriend to your bestie who's in love with him in order to pull the wool over fake poppa's peepers is the kind of idea that gives a bad idea the will to live.
That's why I'm peeved.
I can't avenge when I'm peeved.
You are no good to me focusing on your lady peeves.
You need to focus...
Now Ned and Olive are on a romantic run to the border.
Actually, I don't know why I'm upset.
It's just for one day.
I'm being ridiculous.
A lot can happen in a day.
So, is this the final repose of Erin?
That's my theory.
Nice hustle, sidekick avenger.
Seems to me, Erin Embry she was more than just a spritzer girl annoying folks with her perfume.
Erin wasn't annoying people.
She was dazzling them with fantastic worlds created within the facility of the Dicker's window frame.
Erin Embry dressed this window?
Along with her partner, Coco Juniper, although it was common knowledge that Erin was the one with the true talent.
Erin could do things with a mannequin Coco could never do.
Who in hell are you people?
We're devotees.
Fans of Erin and, to a lesser extent, Coco's.
But we prefer the term "devotees".
Any of these "devotees" seem a little overly devoted?
Appropriately devoted but overly devastated by Erin's death which is soon to be avenged.
Now, if the alive-again avenger hustles this case to fruition, am I still the sidekick?
Yes.
And if the alive-again avenger really wanted to hustle, she'd get me paid.
Is it true?
Erin was murdered?
Murdered?
That's what he said.
Isn't that private investigator Emerson Cod?
Why would he be here if there was no foul play?
Why would he be here if there was no foul play?
I'd give my last nickel to that man to find out what really happened to Erin and bring the killer to justice.
So would I!
Me too!
Me too!
We all would!
Welcome to Dicker's.
I'm Dick Dicker, owner and proprietor.
What can I help you fine folks find today?
A new fairy frock for the Mrs.?
A bespoke pinstripe from the B&T section for you, sir?
Pocket square, mayhaps?
My name's Emerson Cod.
I'm a private investigator.
My associate and I were hired to look into Erin Embry's death.
I'm confused.
Why would you be hired to look into something that the police already decided was an accident?
A tragic one, at that.
That still very well may be, Mr Dicker, but that's what we intend to find out.
Was Erin doing well here at Dicker's?
Erin was doing very well here at Dicker's and Dicker's was doing very well because of Erin.
And, to a lesser extent, Coco.
Coco Juniper?
Yes.
Erin and Coco's perfectly dressed windows created congestion in pedestrian traffic, which created a looky-loo gridlock zone at our front door, which created an overflow of potential purchasers funneling through that door, which created retail sales.
Their work here meant everything to Dicker's.
Any idea if that collaboration was copacetic?
Dicker's is a family store.
Erin was a part of that family.
This store, its employees and those people outside are in mourning.
No one more so...
than Coco Juniper.
Well, it's so...
so...
wrong.
No, wrong would be relative, as if you had, in some way, got within the realm of what would be considered right.
Are you wincing?
No.
Coco, about Erin?
Erin Embry was my partner.
I didn't know until she was gone that she was my inspiration, my light.
Because without Erin Embry, I'm left with...
And yourself.
So what if Erin could do things with a mannequin you could never do?
Who said Erin could do things with a mannequin that I could never do?
I've never said that.
Ever.
Well, despite what you may have heard, I carried Erin.
I was just being gracious before.
You are aware that Erin died in a scenario exactly like the one depicted in your window?
The Papen fountain.
You realize that makes you a suspect?
Yes, along with everybody else in this room.
Denny, did you kill Erin?
No, Coco.
Neither did I.
What's this?
It's for the memorial window.
I think it's chic as hell.
Or it's going to be.
Denny, if this is what you think is chic as hell, then go back to pairing bobby-socks and training bras in the junior's department?
We are unveiling the Erin Embry memorial window tonight.
It's my unveiling too.
Everyone will see once and for all who can do what.
Excuse us.
Maybe Coco's gone loco and killed Erin so she could have her first solo window.
We need to be at that unveiling tonight just in case Coco did go loco for show...
co.
What Emerson and Chuck did not know was as they took a long, hard look at the main suspect they had, the killer was taking a long, hard look at them.
At this very moment, Randy Mann was confused.
I'm confused.
I thought you and Chuck...
Not a good time.
Sorry about the cramped quarters.
I just got a new account at the zoo.
There is a very lucrative after-market for exotic animals.
Aloyisius back there is going to a major retail outlet to promote big savings.
Hop up on your guy's lap there, okay?
My jingle's gotta have some room to jangle.
I...
I...
Oh...
come on.
Say, grudgy, were you around to taxidermy any of those fish swimming in the Pie Hole when the river backed up?
You told them about that too?
Fish are the only animals I won't work on.
When fish die, they lose all the color in their skin and an animal's color is like their personality.
That's sweet.
What else did you tell them about that?
She told us when the water started rushing in you got to grabbing pies like you birthed them.
I think you grabbed something else too.
They say in a time of crisis, you grab the thing most important to you.
That's what I grabbed.
Road trip interruptus.
What do we do now?
We haven't had this many visitors since the most recent home invasion.
We could really use your help.
And your taxidermy kit.
I had to take mine out of the van to make room for the passengers.
Who's dead?
Nobody's dead.
What a silly thing to suggest.
We were thinking more along the lines of disguise so we could get past the road blocks.
I'm gonna fashion these all-purpose pelts into muttonchops and such.
And they could really use a change of wardrobe.
There's a trunk full of Charles Charles's old clothes upstairs in the cheese room.
The only thing that smokes in this house is the Gouda.
You want a cancer stick, you stick it outside on the porch.
This ain't quite the engagement party we had in mind for them.
Engagement?
Ned?
And Olive?
What the hell do you mean, engaged?
Since when?
Since...
we love each other so much.
Yeah.
What he said.
You know just what you're doing?
Not really.
I asked myself, what would Olive want me to do?
And this seemed like the answer.
You did exactly what I would want you to do.
Only I'd also want you to mean it when you say you love me.
Not that I'm ungrateful.
I do mean it.
In a friend way.
And I'm kinda having fun.
I get to help you in a way that doesn't require being super, it just requires being normal and a little dishonest.
And I know you have your reasons for writing what you wrote in those letters to Buster and Jerry...
and I support them because I support you.
That's what friends do.
The private investigator and the alive-again avenger returned to Dicker's Department Store for the unveiling of the Erin Embry memorial window in hopes her killer would soon be unveiled as well.
The craft and beauty of Dicker's signature window displays have long been attributed to two women, one of whom, due to a tragic accident, is no longer with us.
But both we celebrate tonight as we unveil the Erin Embry memorial window, designed by her long-time dressing companion, Coco Juniper.
Coco!
Coco?
Coco wants to greet her guests and admirers at the cocktail memorial after the unveiling.
Well, then, without further ado...
It's an essay on the afterlife.
Erin Embry's endless ascent into a spiritual maze!
Look at it!
It's...
a bath.
It's just a warm bath.
Oh, my God!
It's Coco!
Well, say goodbye to suspect numero uno.
And hello victim numero dos.
How long you think she's been dead?
I'd say about 50 dollars.
She's cold but she ain't stiff.
No more than 30 minutes.
The exact time will take me a little conducting.
And another $20.
30 minutes will do.
Thank you.
That's how it is.
Well, then, I'll make a...
mental note on that.
Don't be making no mental notes on me.
At a crime scene, I make mental notes of whatever I feel needs note-making.
Mentally.
It was my dream to work with Erin and to a lesser extent, Coco.
Now they're both gone.
And my dream to mine the creative minds that fed my creative soul will forever remain a fantasy.
The windows fed your creative soul?
I am so sorry, Denny.
I mean, first Erin and now Coco.
I can't imagine how you must feel.
Like a weight has been lifted.
His honesty tilts toward "I don't care that they died" territory.
Tilts?
His honesty falls right into the "I killed both of them" side of things.
The store was closed while Coco finished dressing that window which means she was dead before the public saw it.
Not before Denny saw it.
He knew that Coco was gonna be inside, waiting to be greeted at the memorial.
Because inside is where he killed her.
Time to take another visit to Erin and Coco's workspace.
See what old Denny's been up to.
You?
Yeah.
I can't believe you saved all of Charles Charles's old clothes.
I was gonna use the fabric to make a quilt for Charlotte but Lily said that was morbid.
I couldn't bring myself to throw them away.
I'm a pack-rat of sorts myself.
Of emotions, not so much with actual things.
Is that why you previously denied your relationship with Ned?
About that.
I should pro...
It's the veil I was to wear when Charles and I got married, the son of a bitch.
Holy matrimony.
I had hoped Charlotte might wear it some day.
The news of your engagement has restored in me a faith that true love exists for people who deserve it.
That's so depressing.
You've given me something to believe in.
Like the likeness of the Virgin Mary found ingrained in the center of a potato or tortilla.
Right now, you and Ned are my tortilla.
Olive couldn't bring herself to disavow Vivienne's restored belief in vows so, instead, she simply said: Thanks.
Look at that.
Not a pen, not a paperclip, not a no thing.
These people didn't do a damn thing for themselves.
They didn't have to when they had someone doing everything for them.
I wonder what Olive's doing with Ned right now.
Think you can pour a saucer of milk and see if kitty will splash?
This ain't my milk and I ain't dipping my paw in it.
I'm not being catty, I'm being concerned.
You said a lot can happen in one day.
You know what you're doing when you said that.
Yeah, I know.
Dipping my paw.
I mean, what if Olive holds his hand without gloves or...
kisses him without using plastic food wrap?
He'll know what he was missing with me.
The only thing pie man is gonna be missing is you.
He's always fretting that you're gonna get up and go and you're worried that he got up and went.
I'm telling you, ain't nobody going nowhere.
Bouya!
Denny's book!
And all the artistic renderings of Coco and Erin's windows here at Dicker's.
Hang on.
Coco and Erin didn't design any of these windows.
Chic-as-hell Denny did.
People who need people to do every damn thing for 'em aren't always the luckiest people in the world.
Sometimes those peeps get pissed off and start resenting their lazy-ass bosses.
Erin and Coco's peep done gone and killed both of 'em.
Peep this, playa.
Don't do that.
Sorry.
That looks an awful lot like Dick Dicker.
We'd better find Dick before this pissed-off peep pops him next.
Come on.
I never thought I'd say this...
but we need to back off on the PDA cause Vivienne's Ps and Qs have gone AWOL and I can't take much more of what I just took before I'm DOA.
Use your words.
Or your veil.
Use your veil.
Your...
wedding veil.
You've a wedding veil, why do you have a veil?
We're still just playing, right?
Vivienne's jumped the bridal shark and unless you're actually planning on saying "I do" at some point, we're gonna have enough explaining to do before we call it off.
I really appreciate you going along with all of this.
You don't have to thank me.
I've been curious about having a normal relationship.
This one's been really interesting to try on.
Try on?
You try on a sweater at the mall.
You try on your best friend's bra and you smile on the inside 'cause yours are bigger and better.
You don't "try on" a person.
Clearly not the right choice of words.
Is that what... "
Well I wouldn't say never" was all about?
Were you trying me on in your head?
I don't know what words to choose now.
I do!
Listen up!
'Cause I'm only gonna say this once.
First and foremost, I'm sorry, both for what I'm about to tell you and the hysteria with which I'm about to tell it which is no way directed at any of you, nor is related to a female issue of any kind.
Ned is not my fianc�.
He does not love me.
We are not a couple, never have been.
I love him but...
he never had feelings for me.
Well, I wouldn't say never.
I'm so sorry.
I ain't mad at you.
Take mad and multiply that by a power of pissed.
Don't be mad.
And certainly not to a power of that degree.
I love Olive, as a friend.
I think you probably should just go.
I didn't mean...
Olive, I just wanted to help.
I know but I don't want that kind of help.
Try-on time's over, Ned.
I'm sorry.
I can't go.
Jerry Holmes and Buster Bustamante, we have you surrounded.
Surrender and come out with your hands up.
Release the hostages and surrender now.
The news man on the radio lauded the concerned neighbour who reported the 2 gentlemen who matched the description of the recently escape prisoners after seeing...
them on a porch smoking cigarettes.
Well, it's a filthy habit.
We can't go back, Snook.
You're not going back.
I promise.
Fine mess we've gotten into, huh?
I do my fair share of making messes too.
You're the same nine-year-old little girl who climbed into the back seat of our getaway car doing ass-over-tea-kettle crazy things just to get people to pay attention to you.
While Olive pondered how everything had gone so wrong, the pie maker tried to figure out how he could make it right.
I only did what I thought she'd want me to do.
I thought I'd be helpful by pretending to be normal and not super.
Clark Kent never had this much trouble with relationships.
That's because he didn't have any.
Sure he did.
No, he didn't.
I mean, Superman did.
Nobody gave a crap about Clark Kent.
He could disappear off the face of the Daily Planet and nobody would even notice.
But I bet he'd spit spandex to find someone special enough who cared about the man and not the cape.
The pie maker looked at Olive, the person who cared for the man and knew nothing of the cape.
And silently wished for spandex saliva.
But if Lois or Mr White or Jimmy Olsen found out that Clark and Superman were one and the same, then Clark would be more studly and cool but on his own, he's just a super-tall clumsy guy cramming himself into a phone booth.
If you were Clark Kent, what would you do right now?
I would rip off my shirt and become Superman.
I mean, come on.
People that have superpowers don't not want to use them.
Where are you going?
To put on my cape.
Emerson Cod and his sidekick, Chuck, found Dick Dicker to forewarn him Denny Downs had gone demented.
We believe Denny Downs has gone demented.
Denny designed the windows?
What were Erin and Coco doing?
Taking the credit.
He got fed up of doing all of the work and getting none of the glory.
You're another boss he blames.
Looks like you're meant to be his window-whacking finale.
Denny's been part of the Dicker's family for years.
I can't believe what you're telling me.
I need a drink.
Would you like a drink?
Well, I wouldn't say no to a snort.
A scotch, please.
I'm out of scotch but I make the most divine pomegranatini that'll ever passed your lips.
Now, we've notified the authorities but they still can't locate Denny.
He's on the loose?
I'll need a proper bodyguard.
Samson, my driver, would use me as a human shield in a heartbeat if there was even the vaguest notion of threat.
What do I do?
Get thee to a police station.
We'll get we to the morgue to get the coroner's report and see if the science of the dead matches the theory in my head.
While the private investigator and avenger advised Dick Dicker to seek the police, the pie maker was trying to avoid them.
Rhino!
Hey, Rhino!
I thought he was dead.
Faster than a speeding bullet.
I'm going to bed.
The pie maker helped his friends in need, not by pretending he was something he was not, but by embracing the very thing he always was.
It gave him a feeling of joy he would later liken to...
leaping tall buildings in a single bound.
The indentation of the dent in Erin's dome looks a hell of a lot like the crystallic decanters in Dick's limo.
Do you think that Denny was trying to frame Dick Dicker?
Denny ain't the killer.
I'm Superman.
I've got a finger faster than a speeding bullet.
Come on, who can I touch?
Ned, you're touching dead things again?
No more pretending to be normal.
The best way I can help anyone is by being a pie-making dead-waker.
Pretending to be something I'm not is a recipe for disaster.
So, I say yes to "super" and no to "normal".
If Caped Crusader really is back in the super saddle, touch these Dicker dames and prove me right.
Hello.
Hello.
Very happy to tell you that me being a dead-waker gives you exactly one minute to help you help us by confirming my partner's theory.
Did Dicker do you in when he brained you with the crystal stopper of his decanter?
Yes!
He poured me a scotch, said my work was an inspiration and started beating me to death.
He said that the store going under was the only way to get out of the family business and still stay in the family.
Being the true talent behind the windows, he said I had to die because I brought in all the customers.
You?
If I had legs, I would kick your ass.
Where are your legs?
Dick fed me to the escalator, after ranting like a size 10 at a sample sale.
He said he was wrong about you and it was my work that brought in the customers.
Without both of your windows bringing business in, Dicker's would have hit the skids.
Time's up.
No, I...
If he was willing to kill his designers to make sure the store would go down, and now he knows that Denny is the real designer...
Denny's about to be damned with praise.
The facts were these.
Dick Dicker had a desperate desire to be rid of the family that owned the family store.
But he did not want to be disowned.
The fantastical windows created by Erin Embry and Coco Juniper brought customers in, so Dick decided to eliminate who he believed to be the talented member of the team.
Only to discover, once the deed was done, that Erin wasn't the one with talent.
Dick penned a suicide note, claiming credit for the murders of Erin Embry and Coco Juniper, signed it Denny Downs and prepared to strike.
Debbie Dicker became the proprietress of Dicker's Department Store.
She promoted Denny Downs to head window designer who, in turn, appointed Wendell Featherstone as his new apprentice.
Ned doesn't love me.
He's with someone else he loves very much.
Hear me, and hear me good, little girl.
The guy who loves you really loves you.
You will never have to wonder how he feels about you.
You will feel it with every inch of the 59 you've got.
The grouch up there has been stuck in our sorry situation without a peep of what-for or how-come, and he ain't doing it for his health.
Hiya.
I'm really sorry about your rhinoceros.
Can't go crying over a spilt rhinoceros...
es.
Although I am mortified that Aloyisius was still alive.
That is not the kind of thing a taxidermist...
should ever overlook.
I've been doing some overlooking myself.
I wanted to thank you, Randy Mann.
Don't mention it, Miss Olive.
I'd aid and abet you any time.
But just so I don't get confused again, you and the pie bro are or are not engaged?
The only thing we were engaged in was shenanigans.
Shenanigans that could put Buster and Jerry back in the big house unless we get them across the border.
But I don't know how.
I am not above prayer.
When I was in the nunnery, Mother Superior said prayer was just...
reaching out your hands, knowing the Good Lord was...
reaching back.
Who would Mother Superior tell you to reach out to now?
I'm reaching out to you.
Buster and Jerry served their time, well, most of it, anyway.
But they should have served none of this since they were wrongfully accused.
The wrongfully accused are not guilty in the eyes of the Lord.
Praise be.
Good morning, sisters.
What may I serve thee while you serve the on high?
We're not here for earthly delights.
The sisters are here for salvation from their burdened bladders.
I'd hoped they might use your rest room in this, their time of need.
I love the god-loving but our rest rooms are for our customers only.
Go on, girls.
The sisters of the Divine Magnatum and I are spreading the good word in the community.
I pray the good word gets spread to the very edges of our country and spills over into countries that may not be looking for the good word.
Or recognize it when they see it.
Or hear it.
Or hear it, indeed.
You inspire me, big momma.
The pie and the pee-break's on me.
In the name of charity, of course.
Peace be with you.
And also with you, my child.
With the aid of Mother Superior, who'd become a superior mother figure, Olive Snook had arranged for her father figures to cross the border after all.
While the pie maker and the girl named Chuck rearranged the storage room to accommodate the ingredients a super pie maker needs.
You'd think that stocking dead fruit for baking while we waited for fresh fruit to rot would be depressing but I find it sort of cathartic.
There is a satisfaction in putting things back where they belong.
And return to normal.
At least, normal for us.
Though she looked the picture of perfection, young Olive felt the very picture of neglection.
The party, in full swing, was the cause of her parents' current distraction.
But young Olive learned a lesson long ago.
She learned her mother and father did not need a diversion to be distracted from their daughter.
Young Olive dreamed of a life where she was actively loved and only occasionally ignored.
As happens often with Olive Snook, her dreams came true.
Just not quite how she intended.
According to her parents' testimony, young Olive Snook had been stolen away in a stolen vehicle by dangerous car thieves and kidnappers Jerry Holmes and Roy "Buster" Bustamante.
Their daughter was held for one day, one hour and 11 minutes before Jerry and Buster made their first ransom call.
Distraught and heartbroken, Olive's parents agreed to pay the undisclosed sum and contacted the police.
The police then...
set a trap.
The little girl / future jockey / pie-waitress-to-be watched as her abductors walked into the trap.
Jerry Holmes and Buster Bustamante were sentenced to 25 years to life.
8,264 hash marks on a wall later...
Jerry Holmes and Buster Bustamante busted out of the big house with only one person on their mind.
Olive Snook.
Who was, at this very moment, hanging from the pie maker she loved, who could never love her, or so she thought.
I'm sorry you never looked at me the same way you look at Chuck.
I wouldn't say never.
Confused, not by the particulars but by this particular usage, Olive read about sentence structure and the use of the double negative.
And with passive-aggressive panache, broached the subject with the pie maker.
Try this one again.
I definitely don't hate it.
What does that mean?
Just what I said.
You like it?
You tell me.
It wasn't less tasty than the "kick in the kumquat" but more unfulfilling than the "rock me amade quince".
I don't like giving funny names to the pies.
Does it not seem disrespectful?
There you go.
You did it again.
What did I do again?
Are you okay?
You've been acting a little unusual all day.
I think I've got post-traumatic stress from the cliff dive that almost turned us in handy baggies.
We're safe now, Olive.
I know but the whole thing keeps repeating on me, over and over, like a broken record or Mexican food.
You know, they say the more you face the trauma, the less power it has over you.
Okay, so there we were, about to die...
Get down, Olive.
You're gonna hurt yourself.
That's right, Ned.
Oh, no, I'm slipping.
I can't hold on much longer.
If you'd like to say anything, now would be the time, and if you could speak in the declarative only using affirmative or comparative modifiers...
People are eating pie.
Ding-dong, daddy.
Ding-dong!
That is heaven.
Pearway to heaven.
It's new.
You know, now that I'm out of debt, we can get back to just pie-baking and no longer touching dead fruit, I can eat my own pie.
I'm gonna get fat, aren't I?
While you're busy getting fat, there's a dead lady getting fished out in the Papen County fountain.
And I got a good feeling about it.
Ambulance sirens blaring and I've got my chasing shoes on.
Are you sure you don't want to untie those apron strings and lace up those chasin' laces?
My apron is staying on with its strings securely tied in a double figure-eight follow through knot.
I, for one, and you should be for two, am very supportive of your decision.
Because that's what friends do.
They support each other.
Lookee here.
Yes, the zapety-zap nearly turned everything to crapety-crap on account of dead girl and her digging-up-dead-daddy ways.
I apologized for that.
I wanna lead a normal life of a guy who just makes pies.
Who wants to be Superman?
Not me.
I say no to "Super" and yes to "Man".
I'm Clark Kent.
Well, that's just downright craptastic, Clark.
I now have an abnormally large amount of work to do on account of no-one here wants to touch a dead lady so I can ask who killed her.
Emerson!
Emerson!
What about me?
No conversation I ever want to have begins with those three words.
I got work to do.
Work that you don't have to do alone.
I mean, I may not be Superman but I'm smart and I'm helpful.
I mean...
Maybe I could be your sidekick.
I'd be the alive-again avenger who came back from the dead to solve her own murder and stayed back from the dead to bring justice to murder victims, with the help of a crusty unflappable streetwise gumshoe.
That'd make me the sidekick.
I'm good either way.
All right, then, sidekick avenger, since we no longer have Superman and his super finger, let me let you know this is an entirely different ballgame.
This game is all about the hustle.
I love the hustle.
Body's been identified off an employee ID from Dicker's Department Store as Erin Embry.
What is that smell?
It smells like Aunt Lily on a Sunday.
I mean, my mom, on a Sunday.
Single malt scotch.
Something I could use a shot of right now.
Cops think this was an accident.
A woman still in the holiday spirit, guzzles too many spirits, does a Gene Kelly round the rosy, slips, bonks her noggin, ends up in the fountain.
Which froze when the temperatures dipped overnight.
This is just a great big waste of my time.
There ain't no case here.
I'm not done with the hustle.
Well, you're gonna be dancing by yourself.
But instead of dancing by herself, Chuck found another partner to hold her hand in the only way he could.
Winter is my new best friend.
We should move to the South Pole.
Although I don't know if they have a need for pie in the South Pole, which puts a wrinkle in my freshly-starched...
life as a normal guy who makes pies, but I'd give it up if I could hold your hand every day.
The pie or the normal?
Either.
But I'd prefer to have my pie and be normal too.
Where are we going?
Dicker's Department Store.
That poor girl Erin Embry was murdered and she used to work in Dicker's.
Murdered?
I thought it was an accident.
No, they dismissed it as an accident but they do that every day.
They could have dismissed my murder.
They could have said that I slipped and fell overboard as opposed to what really happened.
I was strangled and thrown overboard.
Is this Dicker's Department Store?
That is just like the fountain where Erin died.
That cocktail-swilling mannequin is wearing the exact same dress Erin was wearing, and the same shoes!
This is the scene of the crime.
Yeah!
The alive-again avenger!
Yeah!
Yeah!
Let's go find Emerson and tell him that Erin Embry's murder is displayed in Dicker's Department Store.
I'm not an avenger.
I'm a pie maker.
I'm not gonna pretend to be something I'm not.
It's stressful.
So I'm gonna go to the Pie Hole and make my moniker proud.
Well, I'm gonna go and avenge and make my moniker proud.
Who needs a Superman?
You're my hero.
While the pie maker lingered on his alive-again avenger, Randy Mann, a taxidermist who once paid for friends, came to the Pie Hole, bearing a gift.
But said gift wasn't the first priority of his visit.
Hi-ho, pie bro!
Who are you calling "ho"?
Randy Mann.
Miss Olive, I meant no offense by that "ho".
The intent was to be jolly, not derogatory.
Is the pie maker present?
No?
I'll wait.
Can I get you a slice of pie?
One slice of everything, please.
Starting with your favourite of the day.
I don't think eating that much fruit is wise.
Are those the birds Ned had you stuff?
Yeah.
A birthday present for his magician brothers.
Wow's good, right?
Wow means you like it.
Yeah.
You sure do turn those birds around fast.
When starting a new business venture, it's important not to keep the customer waiting.
More important to Randy Mann was keeping himself from waiting to see Olive Snook.
And he wasn't the only person who couldn't wait to see Olive Snook.
Jiminy Kornflakes!
Those are the guys that kidnapped me when I was little!
Snook.
Olive Snook had closed early.
But not due to a lackadaisical work ethic or lack of patrons.
Oh, my God!
Randy!
Olive, did you hit him?
Did she hit you?
No.
He hit me.
I got a low platelet count and zero percent body fat.
That's a 1-2 punch for bruising.
That'd be funny if I hadn't been the one who got punched.
I told you not to do it.
I told him not to do it.
Sucker punch.
You're a sucker punch.
Take it easy, tough guy.
Could have been a whole lot worse.
Olive, who are these guys?
Who are any of us, really?
They're her childhood kidnappers.
They weren't exactly kidnappers.
What they were, exactly, was this.
Jerry and Buster were petty thieves but they were not kidnappers.
They were in the wrong car at the wrong time and were not alone.
Young Olive Snook had stowed away in their recently stolen car, hoping the old adage, "absence makes the heart grow fonder" would teach her neglectful parents a lesson.
Jerry and Buster wanted to return the little girl to her parents right away.
What's your name, Pickle?
But despite their attempts, she refused to tell them her name.
Their argument was hushed, so young Olive would not hear that repeated calls to her parents had gone unanswered and so as not to disturb Olive's love of cartoons.
The 2 days, 12 hours and 19 minutes young Olive Snook spent with Jerry Holmes and Buster Bustamante were the best 2 days, 12 hours and 19 minutes of her young life.
It was also the best of theirs.
After explaining the situation, the 2 men realized young Olive's parents hadn't even known she was gone.
They confronted the Snooks on their derelict parenting skills.
Mum and Dad Snook took umbrage and called the authorities.
As it was their word against the word of two petty thieves, the now accused kidnappers were sent away for the maximum the law would allow.
Knowing what she'd lost the minute they were gone, young Olive vowed to keep in touch.
She wrote them every week and never forgot.
And they, in turn, never forgot her.
Did you guys just get out?
Just.
Escaped.
The word that's supposed to follow that "just" is "escaped".
Hey, it's only a grudge over the shiner.
A grudge-holder, huh?
It's so wonderful that you came to see me.
It won't be wonderful when the police show up looking for ex-cons, and find some other ex-people we'd rather they didn't happen upon.
Which is why we need our Snook here to help get us across the border.
It's the least I can do.
You never should've gone to jail but no one believed that I ran away.
What do we always say about the past?
It makes an ass out of you and me.
Can we go back to "escaped" or am I the only one who finds that troubling?
Who's the worrywart?
That's Ned.
He owns the place.
The pie maker?
Boys...
Budge off that stool, cranky-pants, so I get a good look at the baker man who's gonna marry our little girl.
I thought you were...
Actually...
Me and Olive...
The pie maker considered how the truth would humiliate Olive and devastate the two sweet men whose only happiness came from knowing the little girl they loved most was loved most by the pie maker.
So he said: Me and Olive...
love each other very much.
And once again, Olive's dream came true.
Just, not quite how she intended.
Olive told me all about Jerry and Buster during one of her late-night girl talks.
We usually talk about Olive because I'm an all-or-nothing kind of girl and seeing as I can't tell her the truth...
Little peewee bothered to mention that she told poppa No.1 and poppa No.2 that your man ain't your man.
He's hers.
No, she didn't.
Loaning pie boyfriend to your bestie who's in love with him in order to pull the wool over fake poppa's peepers is the kind of idea that gives a bad idea the will to live.
That's why I'm peeved.
I can't avenge when I'm peeved.
You are no good to me focusing on your lady peeves.
You need to focus...
Now Ned and Olive are on a romantic run to the border.
Actually, I don't know why I'm upset.
It's just for one day.
I'm being ridiculous.
A lot can happen in a day.
So, is this the final repose of Erin?
That's my theory.
Nice hustle, sidekick avenger.
Seems to me, Erin Embry she was more than just a spritzer girl annoying folks with her perfume.
Erin wasn't annoying people.
She was dazzling them with fantastic worlds created within the facility of the Dicker's window frame.
Erin Embry dressed this window?
Along with her partner, Coco Juniper, although it was common knowledge that Erin was the one with the true talent.
Erin could do things with a mannequin Coco could never do.
Who in hell are you people?
We're devotees.
Fans of Erin and, to a lesser extent, Coco's.
But we prefer the term "devotees".
Any of these "devotees" seem a little overly devoted?
Appropriately devoted but overly devastated by Erin's death which is soon to be avenged.
Now, if the alive-again avenger hustles this case to fruition, am I still the sidekick?
Yes.
And if the alive-again avenger really wanted to hustle, she'd get me paid.
Is it true?
Erin was murdered?
Murdered?
That's what he said.
Isn't that private investigator Emerson Cod?
Why would he be here if there was no foul play?
Why would he be here if there was no foul play?
I'd give my last nickel to that man to find out what really happened to Erin and bring the killer to justice.
So would I!
Me too!
Me too!
We all would!
Welcome to Dicker's.
I'm Dick Dicker, owner and proprietor.
What can I help you fine folks find today?
A new fairy frock for the Mrs.?
A bespoke pinstripe from the B&T section for you, sir?
Pocket square, mayhaps?
My name's Emerson Cod.
I'm a private investigator.
My associate and I were hired to look into Erin Embry's death.
I'm confused.
Why would you be hired to look into something that the police already decided was an accident?
A tragic one, at that.
That still very well may be, Mr Dicker, but that's what we intend to find out.
Was Erin doing well here at Dicker's?
Erin was doing very well here at Dicker's and Dicker's was doing very well because of Erin.
And, to a lesser extent, Coco.
Coco Juniper?
Yes.
Erin and Coco's perfectly dressed windows created congestion in pedestrian traffic, which created a looky-loo gridlock zone at our front door, which created an overflow of potential purchasers funneling through that door, which created retail sales.
Their work here meant everything to Dicker's.
Any idea if that collaboration was copacetic?
Dicker's is a family store.
Erin was a part of that family.
This store, its employees and those people outside are in mourning.
No one more so...
than Coco Juniper.
Well, it's so...
so...
wrong.
No, wrong would be relative, as if you had, in some way, got within the realm of what would be considered right.
Are you wincing?
No.
Coco, about Erin?
Erin Embry was my partner.
I didn't know until she was gone that she was my inspiration, my light.
Because without Erin Embry, I'm left with...
And yourself.
So what if Erin could do things with a mannequin you could never do?
Who said Erin could do things with a mannequin that I could never do?
I've never said that.
Ever.
Well, despite what you may have heard, I carried Erin.
I was just being gracious before.
You are aware that Erin died in a scenario exactly like the one depicted in your window?
The Papen fountain.
You realize that makes you a suspect?
Yes, along with everybody else in this room.
Denny, did you kill Erin?
No, Coco.
Neither did I.
What's this?
It's for the memorial window.
I think it's chic as hell.
Or it's going to be.
Denny, if this is what you think is chic as hell, then go back to pairing bobby-socks and training bras in the junior's department?
We are unveiling the Erin Embry memorial window tonight.
It's my unveiling too.
Everyone will see once and for all who can do what.
Excuse us.
Maybe Coco's gone loco and killed Erin so she could have her first solo window.
We need to be at that unveiling tonight just in case Coco did go loco for show...
co.
What Emerson and Chuck did not know was as they took a long, hard look at the main suspect they had, the killer was taking a long, hard look at them.
At this very moment, Randy Mann was confused.
I'm confused.
I thought you and Chuck...
Not a good time.
Sorry about the cramped quarters.
I just got a new account at the zoo.
There is a very lucrative after-market for exotic animals.
Aloyisius back there is going to a major retail outlet to promote big savings.
Hop up on your guy's lap there, okay?
My jingle's gotta have some room to jangle.
I...
I...
Oh...
come on.
Say, grudgy, were you around to taxidermy any of those fish swimming in the Pie Hole when the river backed up?
You told them about that too?
Fish are the only animals I won't work on.
When fish die, they lose all the color in their skin and an animal's color is like their personality.
That's sweet.
What else did you tell them about that?
She told us when the water started rushing in you got to grabbing pies like you birthed them.
I think you grabbed something else too.
They say in a time of crisis, you grab the thing most important to you.
That's what I grabbed.
Road trip interruptus.
What do we do now?
We haven't had this many visitors since the most recent home invasion.
We could really use your help.
And your taxidermy kit.
I had to take mine out of the van to make room for the passengers.
Who's dead?
Nobody's dead.
What a silly thing to suggest.
We were thinking more along the lines of disguise so we could get past the road blocks.
I'm gonna fashion these all-purpose pelts into muttonchops and such.
And they could really use a change of wardrobe.
There's a trunk full of Charles Charles's old clothes upstairs in the cheese room.
The only thing that smokes in this house is the Gouda.
You want a cancer stick, you stick it outside on the porch.
This ain't quite the engagement party we had in mind for them.
Engagement?
Ned?
And Olive?
What the hell do you mean, engaged?
Since when?
Since...
we love each other so much.
Yeah.
What he said.
You know just what you're doing?
Not really.
I asked myself, what would Olive want me to do?
And this seemed like the answer.
You did exactly what I would want you to do.
Only I'd also want you to mean it when you say you love me.
Not that I'm ungrateful.
I do mean it.
In a friend way.
And I'm kinda having fun.
I get to help you in a way that doesn't require being super, it just requires being normal and a little dishonest.
And I know you have your reasons for writing what you wrote in those letters to Buster and Jerry...
and I support them because I support you.
That's what friends do.
The private investigator and the alive-again avenger returned to Dicker's Department Store for the unveiling of the Erin Embry memorial window in hopes her killer would soon be unveiled as well.
The craft and beauty of Dicker's signature window displays have long been attributed to two women, one of whom, due to a tragic accident, is no longer with us.
But both we celebrate tonight as we unveil the Erin Embry memorial window, designed by her long-time dressing companion, Coco Juniper.
Coco!
Coco?
Coco wants to greet her guests and admirers at the cocktail memorial after the unveiling.
Well, then, without further ado...
It's an essay on the afterlife.
Erin Embry's endless ascent into a spiritual maze!
Look at it!
It's...
a bath.
It's just a warm bath.
Oh, my God!
It's Coco!
Well, say goodbye to suspect numero uno.
And hello victim numero dos.
How long you think she's been dead?
I'd say about 50 dollars.
She's cold but she ain't stiff.
No more than 30 minutes.
The exact time will take me a little conducting.
And another $20.
30 minutes will do.
Thank you.
That's how it is.
Well, then, I'll make a...
mental note on that.
Don't be making no mental notes on me.
At a crime scene, I make mental notes of whatever I feel needs note-making.
Mentally.
It was my dream to work with Erin and to a lesser extent, Coco.
Now they're both gone.
And my dream to mine the creative minds that fed my creative soul will forever remain a fantasy.
The windows fed your creative soul?
I am so sorry, Denny.
I mean, first Erin and now Coco.
I can't imagine how you must feel.
Like a weight has been lifted.
His honesty tilts toward "I don't care that they died" territory.
Tilts?
His honesty falls right into the "I killed both of them" side of things.
The store was closed while Coco finished dressing that window which means she was dead before the public saw it.
Not before Denny saw it.
He knew that Coco was gonna be inside, waiting to be greeted at the memorial.
Because inside is where he killed her.
Time to take another visit to Erin and Coco's workspace.
See what old Denny's been up to.
You?
Yeah.
I can't believe you saved all of Charles Charles's old clothes.
I was gonna use the fabric to make a quilt for Charlotte but Lily said that was morbid.
I couldn't bring myself to throw them away.
I'm a pack-rat of sorts myself.
Of emotions, not so much with actual things.
Is that why you previously denied your relationship with Ned?
About that.
I should pro...
It's the veil I was to wear when Charles and I got married, the son of a bitch.
Holy matrimony.
I had hoped Charlotte might wear it some day.
The news of your engagement has restored in me a faith that true love exists for people who deserve it.
That's so depressing.
You've given me something to believe in.
Like the likeness of the Virgin Mary found ingrained in the center of a potato or tortilla.
Right now, you and Ned are my tortilla.
Olive couldn't bring herself to disavow Vivienne's restored belief in vows so, instead, she simply said: Thanks.
Look at that.
Not a pen, not a paperclip, not a no thing.
These people didn't do a damn thing for themselves.
They didn't have to when they had someone doing everything for them.
I wonder what Olive's doing with Ned right now.
Think you can pour a saucer of milk and see if kitty will splash?
This ain't my milk and I ain't dipping my paw in it.
I'm not being catty, I'm being concerned.
You said a lot can happen in one day.
You know what you're doing when you said that.
Yeah, I know.
Dipping my paw.
I mean, what if Olive holds his hand without gloves or...
kisses him without using plastic food wrap?
He'll know what he was missing with me.
The only thing pie man is gonna be missing is you.
He's always fretting that you're gonna get up and go and you're worried that he got up and went.
I'm telling you, ain't nobody going nowhere.
Bouya!
Denny's book!
And all the artistic renderings of Coco and Erin's windows here at Dicker's.
Hang on.
Coco and Erin didn't design any of these windows.
Chic-as-hell Denny did.
People who need people to do every damn thing for 'em aren't always the luckiest people in the world.
Sometimes those peeps get pissed off and start resenting their lazy-ass bosses.
Erin and Coco's peep done gone and killed both of 'em.
Peep this, playa.
Don't do that.
Sorry.
That looks an awful lot like Dick Dicker.
We'd better find Dick before this pissed-off peep pops him next.
Come on.
I never thought I'd say this...
but we need to back off on the PDA cause Vivienne's Ps and Qs have gone AWOL and I can't take much more of what I just took before I'm DOA.
Use your words.
Or your veil.
Use your veil.
Your...
wedding veil.
You've a wedding veil, why do you have a veil?
We're still just playing, right?
Vivienne's jumped the bridal shark and unless you're actually planning on saying "I do" at some point, we're gonna have enough explaining to do before we call it off.
I really appreciate you going along with all of this.
You don't have to thank me.
I've been curious about having a normal relationship.
This one's been really interesting to try on.
Try on?
You try on a sweater at the mall.
You try on your best friend's bra and you smile on the inside 'cause yours are bigger and better.
You don't "try on" a person.
Clearly not the right choice of words.
Is that what... "
Well I wouldn't say never" was all about?
Were you trying me on in your head?
I don't know what words to choose now.
I do!
Listen up!
'Cause I'm only gonna say this once.
First and foremost, I'm sorry, both for what I'm about to tell you and the hysteria with which I'm about to tell it which is no way directed at any of you, nor is related to a female issue of any kind.
Ned is not my fianc�.
He does not love me.
We are not a couple, never have been.
I love him but...
he never had feelings for me.
Well, I wouldn't say never.
I'm so sorry.
I ain't mad at you.
Take mad and multiply that by a power of pissed.
Don't be mad.
And certainly not to a power of that degree.
I love Olive, as a friend.
I think you probably should just go.
I didn't mean...
Olive, I just wanted to help.
I know but I don't want that kind of help.
Try-on time's over, Ned.
I'm sorry.
I can't go.
Jerry Holmes and Buster Bustamante, we have you surrounded.
Surrender and come out with your hands up.
Release the hostages and surrender now.
The news man on the radio lauded the concerned neighbour who reported the 2 gentlemen who matched the description of the recently escape prisoners after seeing...
them on a porch smoking cigarettes.
Well, it's a filthy habit.
We can't go back, Snook.
You're not going back.
I promise.
Fine mess we've gotten into, huh?
I do my fair share of making messes too.
You're the same nine-year-old little girl who climbed into the back seat of our getaway car doing ass-over-tea-kettle crazy things just to get people to pay attention to you.
While Olive pondered how everything had gone so wrong, the pie maker tried to figure out how he could make it right.
I only did what I thought she'd want me to do.
I thought I'd be helpful by pretending to be normal and not super.
Clark Kent never had this much trouble with relationships.
That's because he didn't have any.
Sure he did.
No, he didn't.
I mean, Superman did.
Nobody gave a crap about Clark Kent.
He could disappear off the face of the Daily Planet and nobody would even notice.
But I bet he'd spit spandex to find someone special enough who cared about the man and not the cape.
The pie maker looked at Olive, the person who cared for the man and knew nothing of the cape.
And silently wished for spandex saliva.
But if Lois or Mr White or Jimmy Olsen found out that Clark and Superman were one and the same, then Clark would be more studly and cool but on his own, he's just a super-tall clumsy guy cramming himself into a phone booth.
If you were Clark Kent, what would you do right now?
I would rip off my shirt and become Superman.
I mean, come on.
People that have superpowers don't not want to use them.
Where are you going?
To put on my cape.
Emerson Cod and his sidekick, Chuck, found Dick Dicker to forewarn him Denny Downs had gone demented.
We believe Denny Downs has gone demented.
Denny designed the windows?
What were Erin and Coco doing?
Taking the credit.
He got fed up of doing all of the work and getting none of the glory.
You're another boss he blames.
Looks like you're meant to be his window-whacking finale.
Denny's been part of the Dicker's family for years.
I can't believe what you're telling me.
I need a drink.
Would you like a drink?
Well, I wouldn't say no to a snort.
A scotch, please.
I'm out of scotch but I make the most divine pomegranatini that'll ever passed your lips.
Now, we've notified the authorities but they still can't locate Denny.
He's on the loose?
I'll need a proper bodyguard.
Samson, my driver, would use me as a human shield in a heartbeat if there was even the vaguest notion of threat.
What do I do?
Get thee to a police station.
We'll get we to the morgue to get the coroner's report and see if the science of the dead matches the theory in my head.
While the private investigator and avenger advised Dick Dicker to seek the police, the pie maker was trying to avoid them.
Rhino!
Hey, Rhino!
I thought he was dead.
Faster than a speeding bullet.
I'm going to bed.
The pie maker helped his friends in need, not by pretending he was something he was not, but by embracing the very thing he always was.
It gave him a feeling of joy he would later liken to...
leaping tall buildings in a single bound.
The indentation of the dent in Erin's dome looks a hell of a lot like the crystallic decanters in Dick's limo.
Do you think that Denny was trying to frame Dick Dicker?
Denny ain't the killer.
I'm Superman.
I've got a finger faster than a speeding bullet.
Come on, who can I touch?
Ned, you're touching dead things again?
No more pretending to be normal.
The best way I can help anyone is by being a pie-making dead-waker.
Pretending to be something I'm not is a recipe for disaster.
So, I say yes to "super" and no to "normal".
If Caped Crusader really is back in the super saddle, touch these Dicker dames and prove me right.
Hello.
Hello.
Very happy to tell you that me being a dead-waker gives you exactly one minute to help you help us by confirming my partner's theory.
Did Dicker do you in when he brained you with the crystal stopper of his decanter?
Yes!
He poured me a scotch, said my work was an inspiration and started beating me to death.
He said that the store going under was the only way to get out of the family business and still stay in the family.
Being the true talent behind the windows, he said I had to die because I brought in all the customers.
You?
If I had legs, I would kick your ass.
Where are your legs?
Dick fed me to the escalator, after ranting like a size 10 at a sample sale.
He said he was wrong about you and it was my work that brought in the customers.
Without both of your windows bringing business in, Dicker's would have hit the skids.
Time's up.
No, I...
If he was willing to kill his designers to make sure the store would go down, and now he knows that Denny is the real designer...
Denny's about to be damned with praise.
The facts were these.
Dick Dicker had a desperate desire to be rid of the family that owned the family store.
But he did not want to be disowned.
The fantastical windows created by Erin Embry and Coco Juniper brought customers in, so Dick decided to eliminate who he believed to be the talented member of the team.
Only to discover, once the deed was done, that Erin wasn't the one with talent.
Dick penned a suicide note, claiming credit for the murders of Erin Embry and Coco Juniper, signed it Denny Downs and prepared to strike.
Debbie Dicker became the proprietress of Dicker's Department Store.
She promoted Denny Downs to head window designer who, in turn, appointed Wendell Featherstone as his new apprentice.
Ned doesn't love me.
He's with someone else he loves very much.
Hear me, and hear me good, little girl.
The guy who loves you really loves you.
You will never have to wonder how he feels about you.
You will feel it with every inch of the 59 you've got.
The grouch up there has been stuck in our sorry situation without a peep of what-for or how-come, and he ain't doing it for his health.
Hiya.
I'm really sorry about your rhinoceros.
Can't go crying over a spilt rhinoceros...
es.
Although I am mortified that Aloyisius was still alive.
That is not the kind of thing a taxidermist...
should ever overlook.
I've been doing some overlooking myself.
I wanted to thank you, Randy Mann.
Don't mention it, Miss Olive.
I'd aid and abet you any time.
But just so I don't get confused again, you and the pie bro are or are not engaged?
The only thing we were engaged in was shenanigans.
Shenanigans that could put Buster and Jerry back in the big house unless we get them across the border.
But I don't know how.
I am not above prayer.
When I was in the nunnery, Mother Superior said prayer was just...
reaching out your hands, knowing the Good Lord was...
reaching back.
Who would Mother Superior tell you to reach out to now?
I'm reaching out to you.
Buster and Jerry served their time, well, most of it, anyway.
But they should have served none of this since they were wrongfully accused.
The wrongfully accused are not guilty in the eyes of the Lord.
Praise be.
Good morning, sisters.
What may I serve thee while you serve the on high?
We're not here for earthly delights.
The sisters are here for salvation from their burdened bladders.
I'd hoped they might use your rest room in this, their time of need.
I love the god-loving but our rest rooms are for our customers only.
Go on, girls.
The sisters of the Divine Magnatum and I are spreading the good word in the community.
I pray the good word gets spread to the very edges of our country and spills over into countries that may not be looking for the good word.
Or recognize it when they see it.
Or hear it.
Or hear it, indeed.
You inspire me, big momma.
The pie and the pee-break's on me.
In the name of charity, of course.
Peace be with you.
And also with you, my child.
With the aid of Mother Superior, who'd become a superior mother figure, Olive Snook had arranged for her father figures to cross the border after all.
While the pie maker and the girl named Chuck rearranged the storage room to accommodate the ingredients a super pie maker needs.
You'd think that stocking dead fruit for baking while we waited for fresh fruit to rot would be depressing but I find it sort of cathartic.
There is a satisfaction in putting things back where they belong.
And return to normal.
At least, normal for us.