At the police station, Deputy Tim tells Rudy that they picked up some clown trying to sell Dead Clown's watch at the pawn shop: it's Stud Clown, who has a rap sheet a mile long. Stud Clown claims that he found the watch on the pier. "So what now? You going to pin me for murder?" says Stud Clown. Rudy says that, given his petty theft record, Stud Clown doesn't seem like a killer. Stud Clown doesn't believe that Rudy's letting him off the hook, and gets all dramatic as he says, "Look, Sheriff, there are easier ways to steal a guy's watch besides cutting his head off." Yeah: you can spray him with a seltzer bottle. What's up with that shit, anyway?

Mike shows up at Clown Corbin's motel room for the interview; Clown Corbin clownily answers the door. He tells Mike that he's been clowning all his life, he's new to this particular troupe, and he tries to stay in makeup as much as possible. Mike asks him if he thinks anyone in the troupe is capable of cutting off someone's head. "A clown's job is to make people happy," says Clown Corbin. He blathers all sorts of clown crap to the effect that being a clown makes him forget about his problems and helps people forget about theirs and he's all happy happy jingle-jangle hippety-hop. Mike asks him if he ever feels angry. "Look, is this an interview, or are you trying to figure out if I put on a killer face and collect heads for fun?" asks Corbin. Mike asks him who the "real Jack Corbin" is. "Just a guy who wants to put on a mask and make the world a better place," says Clown Corbin. Oh, thanks a fucking lot.

Police station: Deputy Tim and Rudy; blah blah blah background checks on all the other clowns; they all have alibis, but Deputy Tim still needs to find a record for Jack Corbin. Ellie comes in. Blah blah blah forensic evidence: prints on the crime scene belonged to a cop named Hank Buford; Rudy gets Tim to look up Buford. Then Ellie says that the DNA on the chewing gum suggests that the killer, or the chewer, or whatever, was a woman. "Possibly a tourist," Ellie adds, because, apparently, tourists have different DNA than regular people.

At the Hash 'n' Whore, Clown Corbin sits at a table and yells at Sam to wait on him, because he's making the world a better place. Sam comes over and acts bitchy. "Are you still upset over the broken dishes? What do I owe you?" says Corbin. "You owe me a fourteen-carat gold heart necklace," says Sam. Sam owes me about 240 minutes of my life spent recapping her stupid dialogue. Over at the counter, Ellie is reading and drinking coffee when a clown comes up to her and asks if the seat is taken; reluctantly, she says it's not. The clown sits on her lap and honks his honky-horn and Ellie freaks out. "Back off!" she yells. "Ellie, it's me," says the clown. It's Mike. Oh, sweet Lord, it's Mike, dressed up in a big poufy Perriot suit and a curly wig. He's Jingles The Creep. Ellie recoils, "Oh...oh, God, they've gotten you, too." Mike asks her what her deal is with clowns, anyway. Ellie says that she's coulrophobic: "It's a medical term for a fear of clowns," she explains. She rattles off all sorts of facts about medieval clowns being inspired by the devil, and how they prey on small children. "It's a perverse emotional manipulation all under the guise of a happy face," says Ellie. Mike says that he's doing the clown thing to blend in so that he can write his story and maybe find the clown killer. "And to get feedback about my writing," he adds. Ellie got the perverse emotional manipulation part right. "You really want to hear this?" asks Ellie, hesitantly. Mike honks his horn enthusiastically. "Okay. You have a tendency to over-write. There -- I said it," says Ellie. Then she starts criticizing his language and his dialogue, but I think she managed to pinpoint the problem: he writes. Oh, I mean, he "over-writes." Same thing.