"NO!" Chuck says, back at the Pie Hole with the downtrodden Emerson who has obvs spilled the beans on Olive's new life. "Olive's a Norwegian!" Ned says. Chuck, in the best line of the night: "Maybe it's Stockholm Syndrome!" Emerson: "Chitty-chatty Boo-hoo knew exactly was she was doing. She was sufficiently lubed and ready to spit tacks." Individually, they each start blaming themselves: Chuck thinks it's her fault for pushing Olive away and pushing her to talk to Vivian. "You're not that pushy, and you're not to blame," Ned says. He goes on that Olive betrayed them because they couldn't let her in on the whole story, and they couldn't do that because of his magic finger. "It always comes back," he says, "to my magic finger." That may well be, Emerson gripes, but in about five minutes it's not going to matter because the graves will be dug up. "They gonna find [Chuck's] empty, and D-wight's dead ass in the other one," he says. "And enough forensic evidence to lead them right back here to us." Stunned, Chuck and Ned prepare for the worst. Meanwhile, at the graveyard, the Norwegians do their thing. They, however, weren't prepared for what they found. Yes, Emerson's prediction was only half right: both coffins are empty. DANG!
Now our intrepid Pie Holers are really flipping. Emerson made friendly with the groundskeeper, by way of a few Benjamins, and it's true, both coffins are empty. "But how can my dad's coffin be empty when it's supposed to be full of Dwight Dixon?" Chuck asks desperately. "Oh, God, we buried him alive!" Ned, in a panic, wonders if he should feel worse about burying Dwight alive "or him! getting! out!" In frustration, Emerson assures them that Dwight was dead as a doornail when they threw him in the grave. Chuck, for her part, is convinced Dwight's removal was at the hands of Dead Dad. "Button Button, don't you see?" she says. "He moved the body to protect us." And though her hair is beautiful, I must admit this is gibberish. "What a good dad," Emerson snarks. "You don't suppose he wiped down both the caskets with industrial bleach, do you? Because that's the only way there isn't gonna be some trace of some forensic tiddlybit that's gonna lead everybody back to every somebody at this table!" Ned freaks: "They've got my DNA! I should've worn a hairnet!" Hee! Chuck points out the extreme longshot of Ned being able to pass off that his DNA got around the gravesite at Chuck's dad's funeral. Twenty-five years ago, or something? Okay. Do these people not watch CSI? The real problem, though, is that Emerson doesn't even have a longshot, and really it's his DNA that's going to be all over the grave. "With no real reason to be there," Ned says, sadly, "you're gonna look guilty." Emerson: "I am guilty." He says it wasn't his hand that touched Charles Charles and put Dwight Dixon in the grave (well, technically it was on that one, right?), but that if it wasn't for him, Ned would just be a piemaker with weird powers, and Chuck would be grass fertilizer. Harsh, but okay. He says he brought them into the PI life, and it was his job to keep them in line, and he didn't. "So, if anybody deserves to face the Norwegian firing squad," he concludes, "it's me." Man, Emerson, in Norway, they don't bother with guns! No. That is for those wussy Danes! Instead, they put you in a room and make you referee arguments about who is more evil, Hellhammer or Darkthrone, and please do not think I am joking about these band names, because to make a joke about DoomDevil would be a joke at my own peril. All right, I made the last one up. Anyway, as Emerson mopes about this inevitable date with fate, Ned suddenly has a brainwave. "Don't put on a blindfold or smoke your last stogie, yet, because I got a plan," he says, energized. "You're gonna tell the Norwegians everything you know."