Lisa heads over to Poor Dead Fed Bert's house, where Estelle, Dead Fed's widow, is loading up a moving van. They exchange pleasantries, but Lisa tells her -- fairly nicely -- that it's not a social visit. She needs to look through all their things and search the house. And she can't tell her why. She's actually really pretty nice about it, although matter-of-fact, but Estelle looks pissed and also chubby in the shirt they've put her in.
The Diner. Leon. Roy. "I didn't do nothing, man," Leon says by way of greeting. He does have his elusive tenth finger sewed back on, it appears. Thank God. Now I can sleep. Roy announces that he's just there for some pie. He's not there to cut off any more appendages. "I hear you're taking over Charlie's book," he drawls, and congratulates Leon on the promotion. Roy then admits that he himself isn't very good at numbers: "I just haven't got your know-how, you know." Leon -- good-natured, stupid Leon -- offers to teach him to the ropes "in about an hour." Roy hides a smile.
Meanwhile, the Feds swarm an alley, where they've found Vera's car. The driver's seat is covered in amniotic fluid. "Her water broke," Paige clarifies needlessly. "Yep," Jennifer sighs.
After the ads, Jennifer and Paige talk outside a convenience store, where Vera bought soda, chips, and extra-absorbent sanitary napkins. My favorite lunch! Jennifer tells Paige that they need to call the hospitals, buses, and cab companies. I must admit that, while I like Jennifer, this plot isn't very compelling. I don't care about the well-being of the perp, because she's never done anything very sympathetic other than getting herself knocked up, and I certainly don't care if Paige manages to fix her fuck-up or not. Which means I spend all these scenes examining my manicure and succeeding in not changing the channel only because I am contractually obligated not to do so.
Malloy's Party House. Leon and Jesse The Baseball Player shoot the shit. Enter Malloy, who gives Jesse a hard time about drinking beer. "That's that with that! You're in training!" he scolds, taking away the bottle. Okay. I sort of laughed at that one. I am not, by any means, a "that's that with that" fan, but I enjoy it much more when it's a throwaway line, rather than a ponderous statement designed to strike fear into my heart. "I got a try-out?" Jesse asks. "Let me worry about that," Malloy says, before taking Jesse out back, where he's set up a batting cage because he has no sense of how weird this little obsession of his is.