Sarah runs into Det. Douglas as he's leaving her apartment. She's wearing a heavy coat and a fuzzy scarf, but from where I sit, the temp is 90 and the heat index is 97. Try again, FOX. Either that, or cancel the show. Oops, you just did. Apparently, the autopsy showed abrasions on Mollie's finger, and shining wit that he is, he figured a ring must be involved. He asks Sarah if she could describe the ring, but it doesn't involve Sarah directly, the subject is too taxing for Sarah, and she's not helpful. Det. Douglas suggests recent photos might be helpful. Sarah remembers Mollie had a camera. As the dinner twit goes through the dearly departed's stuff, Det. Douglas surveys Sarah's apartment and opines about all the security hazards: "Those window locks on those rotted sills, they're a cinch to jimmy. You got easy access off the fire escape [would that be the fire escape from which Sarah first bounced her dinners in the premiere episode of this decaying show?]. Someone could get in here without even breaking a sweat." "Really?" is Sarah's brilliant rejoinder, as she hands Det. Douglas a roll of film and then discovers it's unused. Det. Douglas asks if they know their neighbors and Sarah answers, "Not really." Det. Douglas forcefully tells her, "You should. You should work out a system. You check up on them, they check up on you. You listen for strange thumps in the night. You watch for take-out menus being piled up under doors." In the case of the last instance, I would gather it just might possibly be too late to do anything. Sarah tells Det. Douglas that he's making her nervous. "Nervous"? I would think she'd had the poop scared out of her. If she's just "nervous," she's a Valium-influenced individual. Det. Douglas grunts in response as Sarah hands him a roll of film. Det. Douglas explains that he's "seen things" in her neighborhood, and that if she just "beefed up" her door locks and took other precautions, she would decrease her odds.
At the hospital, Platypus sits with Mollie's stricken father, as he fills out forms that ask questions like "name and address of receiving mortuary," and gets taken for a big ol' ride with Guilt. She starts babbling about how all this is her fault, that she should have looked out for Mollie more, but that she was jealous of Mollie and didn't want her to do better than she did. She starts to snot. Mr. Hatcher basically tells her to stuff it please.
Scraggle Rock, the newly-minted detective on the beat, decides to conduct his own little investigation into the murder of Mollie Hatcher. He harasses local businesses until the cops pull up and tell him to step off. He gets a bit stroppy, but they get stroppier and threaten him with the clink if he doesn't leave well enough alone. They even call him a lunatic. That makes me smile.