Later, Conehead brings Martin some files, and asks if she can stay and take him "through the chain of evidence." Martin glares at her. "I think I've done this before," he snips. She tip-taps off in her Manolo Blahniks. As she leaves, Baby Eugene sweeps up, and asks Martin if he's "looking for loopholes." Martin ignores him. Baby Eugene hassles him, telling him he better pray he can find that one little technicality that can get him off the hook. "I am not looking for technicalities," Martin says solemnly. "I am looking for the truth." Baby Eugene bursts into peals of laughter. "You better stick to technicalities," he chortles. "The truth is going to keep you in here, and make you somebody's bitch! So put on that engineering cap, Casey Jones, because that's a whole lot of trains you gonna be pulling!" He cackles and choo-choos down the hallway. Because it ain't a prison drama without some good, old fashioned anal rape jokes. I could not sympathize with Megyn and Djb more than I do right now.
Martin keeps going through the files. As he looks at the crime-scene photos, he has a handy-dandy little flashback, involving -- yes -- breaking glass, blood, a knife, the beads, and, this time, a hand. With a tattoo. Of a spider web. "I know who did it," Martin whispers to himself. I'm thinking maybe Martin ought to call OJ and offer his helpful psychic wife-killer-finding abilities.
Commercials. Yay. I turn off the VCR to spell check the first half of my recap, and FX is showing the episode of 90210 where the gang goes to Vegas to stop Brenda's ill-advised marriage to Stuart Carson, and that is such a shout-out to the MBTV writing crew, yo.
Tuesday, December 5th. 8:42 AM. My friend Nancy Maxwell's birthday. I haven't talked to her in years. Hi Nancy! Martin wakes up. He's not in jail; he's been sleeping on someone's sofa. That someone has the same huge book of maps on their coffee table that my parents have. Shout-out? You know it. Martin is, naturally, perplexed and confused by the fact that he is not in jail, but he quickly figures out that this must be the day he gets arrested. He gets his passport, packs a bag, picks up his children from the nanny's house, and hops the next flight to Switzerland. The end.
Actually, he watches a news report which is conveniently about him, and which tells us all that Martin is "in seclusion at the home of a friend," and that while the police have not yet stated that he is a suspect, they are searching for the famed key card. Doggett comes inside, bearing coffee, and turns off the TV. Martin thanks him, for the coffee, and the sanctuary, and asks Doggett if it is, in fact, Tuesday, "the day after the murder." Doggett looks at him quizzically. Martin continues to breathlessly tell Doggett that he knows who killed his wife. He didn't last night. But he does now. He describes Edward James NotOlmos to Doggett, who plops down, confused, next to him on the sofa. Martin convinces Doggett to call "the Baltimore City lockup," and have them identify Edward James NotOlmos based on his description. Doggett ambles over to the phone. His apartment, by the way, is quite nice. Cozy, book-lined, sunny. Martin turns the sound on the TV back up, to see Al weeping about his daughter's demise. Al sobs that he has no comment on the rumor that Martin is the killer. Doggett ambles back into the living room and breaks the news that no prisoner fitting Edward James NotOlmos's description has been processed in the last thirty-six hours. Martin insists that he must have been...or that he will be processed later today. Doggett wonders if Martin has totally lost his mind, and asks him to "just come out with" whatever he's trying to say. Martin dismisses this, and muses that he "may already have the answer." Inside him, yes, yes, we know. Martin tells Doggett that he has to show him something back in his apartment.