Paul's not surprised to hear that everybody has motive, but it's a crinkle in the case that they all have alibis as well. The cops try to talk to Beth, and he jumps in with a very sweet speech about how she's "the one person in that whole corrupt, backstabbing street that [he] can trust," but she still shows her hand a little when they ask if she knows anything about who would do it. Since right now is hardly the time to go into how she's a double-agent who only married him as part of a wicked Felicia plan, she just kinda glitches out for a sec before telling them she doesn't know anything. This functions as a neon arrow pointing right at her head, and the cops go directly to find out more about little Mrs. Young.

Because, as noted, this is all he ever does now, Carlos thunders and bitches at Gabby after he finds some pictures of Grace in her bedroom, and then erases them off her phone, and then chains her to the bedpost so she can never make another decision in her life, and sometimes dresses her up in little outfits when he's feeling lonely.

Mike shows up at the hospital -- after a busy day of arriving in town, hitting local diners and talking to inmates -- to see how his awful wife is doing. Well Mike, she is awful. She immediately informs him dialysis is for suckers and she's way more interested in herbal therapies. After all, she is a nanny now and needs to also raise MJ, and she can't very well do that if she's in dialysis for twenty-odd hours a week. He resists, but eventually gives in to her usual agenda: In this case, her perspective on renal function as an unfair standard for her to have to meet. Susan is too special to need kidneys, Mike! Fuck dialysis, she'll get by on pluck! And if you don't support this suicidal course of action, you're a bad husband for being unsupportive!

Lynette and Renee meet with a hotelieuse about their ideas for her chain -- "Craftsman, but with Japanese accents," so I guess it's one of those hotels that also sells discount accent furniture -- and they keep finishing each other's sentences and being just so adorable that finally the lady has to comment on it. You know, how they're the best of friends and they've been together for 26 years and just started this business in an industry with which neither of them have any experience, and how they would never sleep with each other's husbands, this kind of thing. Renee starts to lose it, but goes completely over the edge when Lynette finds her a plate of oatmeal-raisin cookies, her favorite, and just like with Proust, the cookies unleash a torrent of memory and regret.