Bullock has opened the hardware store in Sol's absence. (Someone make a note that Bullock needs a haircut. His 'do is requiring too much dippity these days.) Sol comes in and tells Bullock where he's been: with Mrs. G, talking about the bank. It goes over about as well as you'd expect it to go when you tell your hypersensitive friend you've been hanging out with his ex, talking about ways steal his ideas. Bullock nearly grinds his teeth down to nubs. He doesn't "give a fuck" that Sol's trip to see Mrs. Garret was at her invitation, so much so that when a customer walks in mid-clench, he yells at the guy to get out. Bullock is especially mad that this is the first he's hearing of this invitation from Mrs. Garret. Sol tries to explain, but Bullock gets crazy-eyed on him. "You told ME none of it," he clenches. "Suspecting maybe you mightn't act rational," Sol explains. Bullock clenches a smug smile: "I bet you told the whore." Wwrrrrrrrrkkk, the needle comes off the record. Sol doesn't dignify that with a response, and tries to walk away, saying they're done talking about this subject for now. Bullock doesn't like that. "If you keep it up," Sol tells him, "we're going to fight, and you'll have to work by yourself while I convalesce." Aw, Sol. You could take him. I'm sure Bullock could be distracted in a fight if you, like, held up a mirror or something. He'd at least have to take a break to hero-worship himself. Bullock can't deal with this whole drama, so he bails, slamming his hat down on his held-high head.
It's the Miss Iz/Adams hour over in Al's office. I think my girl's about to sign her death warrant, people. She tells Al all sorts of lies: that Mrs. G used laudanum in front of her, that she admitted that she killed Brom, that she claimed Al to have been the instrument in the killing. Al seems to be believing this malarkey, but I don't know. Miss Iz clearly thinks she's pulling the thing off, in any case, and goes on. She allows Al to walk through what he assumes to be her plan: that he admit to the killing, confess to having been hired by Mrs. G, and then subsequently escape, "leaving the widow lonely at the bar of justice." Miss Iz is all smiles. That's exactly how she sees it going down. Adams, by the way, is watching this whole thing like a tennis match. Al finally squints warily at the cool Miss Iz, asking who she works for. "People of means," she answers. "The people you work for were hired by people of means," he snaps back, "don't get cagey, Miss Isringhausen."