Katie sits on Ellen's couch and fidgets like her life depends on it. She tells Ellen that she filed a complaint with the police department. Ellen can't believe she is so stupid as to trust the police. Katie points out that Ellen hasn't done anything to help her. Ellen pulls out a file on the guy and tells Katie what she knows. Which isn't much. Katie is unimpressed, but Ellen swears that Patty will be able to connect the guy to Frobisher. At the mention of the P word Katie gets agitated. She tells Ellen that she doesn't understand the attraction between her and Patty. But she does know that if Ellen had never met Patty, David would be alive. You would expect that comment to crush Ellen, but it appears that these two are secretly engaging in a contest to see who can use the fewest facial expressions in one scene. Loser gets wrinkles! Ellen swears she knows what she is doing with Patty, but these things are way over the troglodytic Katie's head. Strangely, Katie takes offense at that and then calls Ellen a lawyer, which is really hitting below the belt. When Ellen retorts that Katie should leave the hard stuff to people with grown up jobs, Katie tells her to go to hell and walks out. I'm not sure who won that contest, ladies, because you both suck butt at the acting.

Claire Maddox needs to invest in some regular pantyhose. Once again she is fiddling with her thigh high and reattaching her garter. She asks her guest to come zip her up. It's the waiter from the restaurant. I guess Claire owed him a tip. She pulls out a pack of cigarettes and the waiter is surprised. Claire informs him that she only smokes one, at the end of every day. Besides, she works at UNR -- you know she had some evil in her. Why not show it through smoking? The waiter offers to light it and she says no thanks, because she smokes alone. She walks out of the apartment and it is hard to tell whether they went to his place or whether she smokes outside her own apartment. Both scenarios seem unlikely because the apartment was huge and judging from the outside, it is in Soho and there is no fucking way that a waiter (a bad waiter, to boot) can afford a huge apartment in Soho. Unless he is a trustfund baby who waits tables for fun, because picking up strangers' dirty plates is a hoot! Claire sits on the stoop and blows smoke. Cut to the Cadillac, which is still parked on the rainy night in the alley-like street. Darrell Hammond gets in the car and types a number into the GPS. The coordinates are from the piece of paper that Kendrick gave him. Still no idea what the heck is going on there.