Keith barrels into Fuckface's office with a tape of H!ITW!'s that has one of the victims on it. Fuckface mildly tells him he's a day late and a dollar short, since Fuckface found one of the other victims on another tape, and H!ITW! is already in interrogation. Keith makes a good-natured "Oh, poo" face. He asks how Fuckface wants to proceed, and Fuckface says they should play to their strengths. Keith: "So I'm good cop?" Fuckface smirks in acknowledgment. Hee. I hope he doesn't keep being even mildly likable, because I hate coming up with new nicknames.
Aaaand we're interrogating. Fuckface and a bright light are in H!ITW!'s face. I'm sure H!ITW! is glad thatat least that one of those bulbs is dim. Keith and Fuckface are both hamming up their roles rather amusingly as H!ITW! sweats harder than a virgin at a prison rodeo. Or "Tobias Beecher," if you prefer. H!ITW! seems like he's breaking, so Fuckface gives him a pad to write down a confession. Keith asks to speak with Fuckface privately.
Outside, Keith tells Fuckface that their evidence is circumstantial, H!ITW! has mental issues, and frankly, Keith's not sure the guy is the killer. Fuckface: "What's the problem? Too easy for you?" No, he likes it easy. Just ask Paula Marshall. Keith points out that H!ITW! couldn't have held the girls in his apartment, since the walls are too thin. Uh, "apartment"? That thing was way too small to be called an apartment, and I should know, having lived in New York City for almost my entire life. Which now spans thirty-five years. Sigh. Keith suggests it might have been someone else. Fuckface: "Like who? Jake Kane?" Ah, there's the Fuckface we all know and hate with the white-hot intensity of a thousand suns. Fuckface notes that H!ITW! is writing, and says he can handle it from there: "We'll send you a check." Fuckface, don't write checks your self-important, odious ass can't cash. Fuckface goes in to discover that H!ITW! has written "I WANT A LAWYER." Oh, Fuckface. You might want to add a zero to the amount on that check. You can take it from your one-to-ten likeability rating.
Veronica calls Mac and asks if Mac can work on the sound file for her. Veronica then tells Mac that her dad blew all the money on a business gone bad. Yikes. I mean, putting some money in trust or in a college fund for Mac would have been a no-brainer from a tax point of view alone. Nice work, NASCAR dad. Mac says she's not going to do anything dumb, which, according to the laws of TV, means that she must be parked right at her biological parents' house. Rob Thomas wasn't sure that's where he wanted to go with this, but certain dictates are immutable. Mac goes to the door and rings the bell. The BRUNETTE! mother answers, and it's pretty clear that she knows who Mac is, despite her valiant attempts to cover. Mac tells Mommie BRUNETTE that she thinks she left her purse in the library when she was there for the party. The mother stammers, "You...were..." Man, this brings "worlds colliding" to a whole new level. An awkward level. Mommie BRUNETTE shows Mac into a den, where Mini-Mac is reading. She cheerfully greets Mac by name, and then runs off to look for Mac's purse. Mommie BRUNETTE starts to make small talk with Mac, but is interrupted by the appearance of her BLONDE-headed bitchchild. M, M, M! bitches and then leaves as Mini-Mac returns with Mac's purse. Mac seems to think better of the whole mess and leaves in a hurry, to Mommie BRUNETTE's consternation. Well, you may have been stuck with the bitch, Mommie BRUNETTE, but at least your tofu bills are under control.