Will, Toni, and Jerry are watching the perp explain himself to Carlyle. Really, does a guy who kills for money care? Does he give discounts if you have, like, a really good reason or something? Jerry, who I'm not loving, frankly, comments that the guy's wife was pulling his strings: "Now we are." Will: "Feeling like God, now, Jerry?" Jerry: "Nah Coppola. Not the daughter -- the big guy." Yeah, this is practically The Conversation. Jerry yammers about wanting a second camera do some arty shot here. He's basically the Arcadia PD's version of Comic Book Store Guy. Finally the perp gets around to handing over the briefcase of money while Toni begs him not to do it and Jerry yammers on about directing and scoring this video. The exchange has been made, so off they go to arrest the perp. Uxoricide thwarted.
They lead the perp out of the motel room as he claims his wife was trying to break up his family. Will: "So, you were doing it for the kids, killing their mother." The perp claims he would have taken care of his children: "I'm a good father." Will shuts the door: "Yeah, you're a real special guy."
Joan's up on the roof by herself, reading the poem. Adam arrives and says he's been looking everywhere for her. Joan: "Oh, I was I was on a search. I smell. And everyone's yelling at me " Adam takes a sniff, and even at a distance, he agrees, "You're kind of ripe." Joan: "Sorry." Adam: "So, um are you gonna tell me?" Joan: "Oh some moron accidentally threw out the poetry submissions, so I had to go dumpster diving." He's actually wondering about why she ran out yesterday. Joan: "I just got in this really stupid fight with Brian, so I, um, pulled my photographs, you know. Yeah. Yeah. He just didn't get me. You know how that is." Adam's sweet, but he's not dumb: "Yeah. You know, if something's wrong, Jane, you know, whatever it is, you know you can talk to me." She says she does. Adam: "So that's the poem?" Joan laughs softly: "Yeah with extra sauce." She adds, "I'm sort of the literary editor now." Adam's face lights up a bit: "Cool." But you can tell it's only because he's happy for her, not because it matters one way or another to him. She explains that someone submitted the poem without a name, and Brian won't print it unless she can discover the author. "It's called 'Sewer Walking.' It's a crazy title, I know, but it's just really beautiful." She starts reading it to him: "'You and me, we used to talk / Like a river underground, the sewer / where we used to walk / The hole at the end empties out to the pier / Where paper boats disappear." Second stanza: "Me, I try to send this note / Float it like a paper boat / But paper sinks and words are weak / I try, but I don't speak.'" Joan glances at Adam, whose expression looks distant, and thoughtful, and vaguely troubled. Of course, Frink and I both think Iris must have written it. Joan asks if he's okay. He finally sighs and says he knows who wrote it: "Sewer walking and paper boats. Grace. Grace wrote that." Wow. Joan smiles as that sinks in. Wouldn't she have recognized Grace's writing? She's been sitting next to Grace in AP Chem all year; they study together. Whatever. I suppose Grace really misses Adam.