Pushing Daisies - Season 02 Episode 06 "Oh Oh Oh... It's Magic!"
Subtitle (720p CTU v.1.00): A²S Team --==All-about-Subs.fr==--
At this very moment in the town of Coeur d'Coeurs,
young Ned believed in magic.
It was not the magic that sparked from his fingertip
when he touched a dead thing alive again.
That particular magic had not yet been discovered.
This was the magic of a father's love.
Young Ned would discover this magic was not magic at all.
Alakazam!
It was just a trick.
After Ned's mother died, his father performed another trick...
a cruel disappearing act.
I'll be back.
And when his father never came back,
Ned stopped believing in magic.
Young Ned discovered his father would one day perform
his sleights of hand and misdirections
for a younger, more impressionable audience,
a new family that did not include Ned,
but did include his half-brothers, Maurice and Ralston.
Maurice and Ralston loved their father and delighted in his magical tricks
and insisted on learning every one of them.
But there was one magic trick their father never taught them
and would only show them once...
a cruel disappearing act.
It's 19 years, 42 weeks,
6 days, 13 hours, and 7 minutes later.
Maurice and Ralston have become the illusionist duo "Two for the Show."
The mercurial world of magic and its associations
had another effect on half-brother Ned,
who could wake the dead...
- Magicians? - Illusionists.
At the mere mention of magic,
he experienced the sting of anxiety-induced acid reflux.
Who doesn't like magic?
I love magic...
as much as I love other forms of popular entertainment,
like boxarate tae-kill-do cage-fighting or monster trucks on ice.
To certain factions of the god-fearing public,
magic is the devil's work, you little devils.
Magically delicious little devils.
Oh, I thought you were...
magically delicious little devils.
Like a confection.
Inside one of these pies is a prize.
But which one? This pie? That pie?
Pick a pie, any pie.
That one! That one!
You just magically julienned the cherries.
But wait, there's more.
- Oh! A magic show! - Oh! A magic show!
A magic show?!
Where did I put that rat's ass I could give?
Magic ain't nothing but a voodoo grift.
Magic is as magical as you want it to be.
He magically put those tickets in that pie.
If by "magically", you mean
"made you look that way so you wouldn't see what they were doing this way",
then, yes, those tickets alakazammed their way
right underneath that delicious, flaky crust.
Or Hocus pulled the damn tickets out of his pocket
and Pocus slid them under the pie pan,
as evidenced by the cherry-rhubarb crumble on his sleeve.
We're performing after the second performance of the Great Herrmann.
He's the big, muckety-muck patriarch of the Conjurer's Castle,
and to us, too.
After dad had to leave...
- "Had to leave"? - Why else would he have left?
After dad had to leave, Herrmann was the next best thing.
Another magic dad.
We'll introduce you after the show, if you come to the show.
- Will you come , big brother? - Big half-brother,
once removed by the fact that you didn't know I existed until last week.
I'd like to RSVP in the resoundingly affirmative.
I thought you said magic was a voodoo grift.
It is a voodoo grift.
But exposing these two and their fairy-dust deceptions
will only hone my PI skills, much like a brainteaser or "Where's Waldo?".
You're not invited if you're gonna heckle.
But shazam...
I have a ticket.
I'll be there, front and center, loud and applauding,
snapping like a beatnik or praising the lord, whatever you'd like.
Loud and applauding! Loud and applauding!
And preferably amazed. What do you say, frère pie maker?
Look! There's a ticket with your name on it.
You barely said a word to them.
I barely know them. I saw them once when I was 9,
and they were just those little bastards my father was cheating on me with.
Those little bastards are now your little brothers.
You can't just flash some jazz hands and then abracadabra... brotherly love.
What he said. There should be a grace period,
then a getting-to-know-you period, then a dinner on a national holiday.
I invite them to the pie hole, and suddenly it's,
"frère pie maker, come to our show."
- It's a magic show. - What do you got against a magic show?
There's sequins and drama and the promise of bloodshed.
Next to pageants, they're my favorite thing.
- They give me acid reflux. - Oh, here.
Suck a lozenge.
A lozenge that'll make me forget they're putting on a magic show,
the kind of show my dad put on, so what they're pulling out
of their magic hats isn't a rabbit, it's my childhood trauma.
They're wearing it like a cape and taking it to the stage.
I was just about to tell y'all to shut the hell up,
and then you stopped talking so I didn't have to.
Maurice and Ralston are the family that you didn't know you had.
If I could talk to my aunt Lily as the mother I didn't know I had...
Oh, I'd have a sea of questions.
Don't you have a sea of questions?
There may be a pond.
Then dive in.
I'm not a diver, I'm a cautious swimmer.
I test the water with my big toe and then gently wade into the shallows.
While the pie maker insisted on wading into the shallows of brotherly love,
Chuck insisted on diving into the depths of a recent and strange revelation.
Her aunt Lily was, in fact, her mother Lily.
Not satisfied hearing such life-altering news secondhand,
Chuck wanted to hear the words directly from her mother's lips.
Hello?
Oh, hello, I'm from Livelong Day Life Insurance.
Now, we have an amazing mother's day offer for women who have given birth.
Now, may I ask, do you qualify for...
Our November cheese is rubbed with paprika.
It is particularly appealing to...
the woman who has had a bébé?
Have you ever had a bébé?
You've been randomly selected to receive your very own psychic reading.
Hello?
Oh, no.
Here comes another magic dad.
Is that the Great Herrmann?
Maybe he could be your magic dad, too.
Already had a magic dad. It didn't work out.
I need another lozenge.
Lozenge isn't working. Stomach acid's rising...
As well as other contents of stomach.
Are you the pie maker?
I'm a pie maker.
Hello! Excuse me, excuse me.
I feel I should hug you. Can I give you a big hug?
I'm already hugging and there's nothing you can do about it.
I want a hug!
I'm not made of hugs.
Maurice and Ralston can't stop gushing.
I'm so grateful that you came into their lives.
Perhaps you can take some heat off me. The boys are rather needy.
We'll talk about it later.
Pretty girl, pretty girl, and you...
I sense you're a great investigator of things unsolved...
named after a poet and a fish.
I sense you better give me my wallet 'fore I make my foot disappear up...
The boys tell me you're a heckler.
We don't play that way at the Conjurer's Castle,
so let's nip that in the bud, shall we?
And how do you propose nip, Herman?
It's Herrmann.
And this is how we nip.
Ever had your breath taken, Emerson Cod?
Leached from your lungs by a cement mass crushing you in a deadly embrace?
No.
In just moments, I will be contorting my shackled body into this box,
which will then be filled with quick and hard brand quick-set cement
and then welded shut.
Demented and cemented,
I give you "Cementia"!
If my shackles are secure, Mr. Cod, then kindly return to the audience.
Applause for Emerson Cod!
Now you see me...
It was no accident I chose you to volunteer.
I require your keen eye
in investigation of things in a personal matter.
Someone has been killing my assistants.
I invite you tonight to solve their murders.
I live to amaze another day!
But not another day after that.
Her name was Alice.
Tonight would've been our 200th performance together.
I found her just like this...
except over there.
You turned your assistant into a bunny?
My assistant has always been a bunny.
I just wanted to see if he knew that.
Alice was murdered like the others.
Fred and Ginger were impaled when a rigging in my coat misfired.
They would fly out of my pockets in a puff of glitter and birdseed
as I strummed a chirping slide guitar.
And Mercury, sweet Mercury.
Mercury loved performing with balloons and children.
That's when he was happiest of all.
And now he's dead,
bludgeoned by a falling sandbag.
Who would want to kill all your animals?
While we can appreciate and sympathize with your predicament, Mr Herrmann...
Please, call me Great.
No.
We're private detectives, not pet detectives.
It would sully my reputation as an expert in the field
if I were to take to investigating
missing "puddy tats" or dead "bunny wabbits".
I want to help missing puddies and dead bunnies.
I'm curious... Do pet detectives get paid more than the other kind?
Pet detectives get paid a whole lot more,
so you need to get to prestidigitating a little more green
if you want to get serious.
- Blow on my hands. - Man, give me my damn money.
Now, if you'll excuse me,
the county bridge and tunnel folk have arrived
for the 9:00.
Great?
I never got to ask...
How exactly do you know Maurice and Ralston?
I was there when their father left... Your father left.
I had real good seats to that show.
I was the dress rehearsal. The show sucked then.
What do you tell a couple of kids you've never met
that their dad, who you've never met, has just dropped 'em like they were hot?
You can't sugarcoat that turd.
No, not effectively. What did you tell them?
What they wanted to hear.
That their dad was an important man with important-man matters to attend to.
Blah, blah, blah. Please stop crying. Blah.
Did their da... my dad say anything to you?
What was he gonna say? "Hey, the boys'll be hungry in an hour"?
He was ditching the kids at a Sunday matinée, for christmas' sake.
Thanks for looking out for them.
Didn't have any other choice.
Every day after school, they'd pop by,
looking to be taught some new magic trick or play with my monkey.
Heed this warning...
Establish very clear boundaries early and often.
I guess they just needed a father.
Son...
Ever feed a stray pussycat? It was like that.
You love the pussycat, and I do love those boys,
but that plate of tasty paté with the tuna sauce was not a promise.
It was the promise of sisterly devotion that concerned Lily.
30 years, 9 months ago, Lily broke that promise
when she was impregnated by her sister Vivian's fiancé.
Lily lived in fear that one day
Vivian would discover her betrayal and settle her hash,
and today that hash-settling day has come one day closer.
Who the hell are you?
"Who the hell he was" was Dwight Dixon.
In his youth, Dwight Dixon brandished the blue beret
of the United Nations Peacekeepers.
Together with Chuck's father and the pie maker's father,
Dwight performed tasks of peace enforcement
and, in the process, learned many things about his brothers in arms...
Some things Lily would rather he not know.
Charles kept a picture of you.
You were a mermaid sitting in the cradle of a giant fishhook
with a clamshell brassiere and...
the tail of a mackerel.
I don't think we were ever mackerels.
Oh, you were always a mackerel.
Whenever I saw that picture, I'd say...
"Holy mackerel."
I heard that one coming from around the corner.
It was wearing tap shoes.
Charles never told me you were witty!
It's probably the only thing he never told me about you.
Boy, did he talk...
about you...
when he wasn't talking about this one, which was 99.9% of the time.
I'm quite the conversation piece.
When you opened that door, I got a "Rock 'em sock 'em robot"
pow to the chin.
Now I know why Charles always regretted
letting another woman come between the two of you.
He broke my heart.
Charles broke a lot of hearts, but he only got his broken once.
Knocked him for a doozy, too.
Do you have a point to this visit,
or did you just stop by for snorts and giggles?
The snorts and giggles are the raisins in my oatmeal.
No, I'm here for something... a common brass pocket watch.
It belonged to Charles, hence it had a "CC" engraved on the back.
It looked a lot like this one, which is mine, hence the "DD".
We got 'em when we were in service together.
I don't recall a watch.
- Vivian, maybe... - She doesn't recall, either.
Well,
pocket watch or no pocket watch, I think I can tell when it's time for me to go.
- I'll get your coat. - Thank you.
I'm not gonna say anything to Vivian about what you did to her.
That would be cruel.
Not as cruel as what you did, but no need to quantify your sister's pain.
Hey, don't come for me, fella. I fight dirty.
I don't want to fight.
I need to change your perception of me.
Let's sit down and tear a pheasant together... you, me, and your sister.
If I ever see you again, it won't be pheasant I'll be tearing.
Tabasco. You sure are a spicy cocktail.
While Lily was giving Dwight the stink-eye with the only eye she had,
her sister, Vivian, had set her eyes on something much sweeter,
a confection she hadn't tasted in quite some time...
A date.
As the Great Herrmann took to the stage
for his second performance of the night...
Now you see me...
A murder investigation was being performed
under the proscenium arch of his dressing room.
Poor Mercury.
- I wish you could tell who did you in. - He's a monkey.
Barring and evolutionary leaps yet unheard of, the monkey can't talk.
Well, he's also dead, which is why he really can't talk.
- That's true, too. - Alice can talk.
She's got burns on her lips and ulcers on her tongue.
She's telling us that she was poisoned.
We got a monkey flattened by a sandbag.
Means the killer knows their way around backstage.
We've got two doves impaled by bad taste and a malfunctioning coat gag.
Killer knows how the Great Herrmann's tricks work.
I think Alice ate the lettuce off the Great Herrmann's BLT.
Killer knows how to make a sandwich.
The lettuce was supposed to stay on the sandwich
and be eaten by the Great Herrmann.
The falling sandbag, the rigged jacket. Killer wasn't trying to kill animals.
Killer was trying to kill the Great Herrmann.
He didn't get out!
Isn't it funny how easy it is to remain calm when everyone else is freaking out?
Sadly, the Great Herrmann had failed to escape his great escape.
His untimely expiration was deemed by the authorities
to be accidental death due to aggravated "Cementia."
This wasn't an accident.
The Great Herrmann performed that trick a thousand times.
What did he do with all those cement blocks?
Donated them to the Papen County Marine Institute to create artificial reefs.
The Great Herrmann had a dedicated fan base of barnacles, corals, and oysters.
Well, tonight the invertebrates of the sea will mourn his loss.
Poor Herrmann.
Fred and Ginger and Alice and Mercury. I want them all avenged!
I'm sorry, but now that everyone's calmed down, I'm freaking out.
I think it's the animal cruelty.
Don't freak out.
I know a dog and a pig that haven't been impaled, poisoned, or bludgeoned
that need to be fed, loved, and walked.
Maybe I'll go do that right now.
I'm sorry about your next-best-thing magic dad.
And I'm...
I'm sorry about yours, too.
He wasn't my... He didn't...
We didn't have that kind of relationship.
Although he did put his hand on my shoulder and called me "son",
which felt like someone rubbed their feet across a shag rug,
reached into my chest and gave my heart a static-electric pop.
I always loved that static-electric pop.
It's all very confusing.
There's murdered magic dads and
the promise of tasty paté with tuna sauce.
What do you think you were saying? 'cause that ain't what came out.
What I'm saying...
I need to say to them.
I'm gonna take care of this. Herrmann will be avenged.
I don't mean vigilante justice, because what kind of example would that be?
I mean regular go-to-jail-for-your-crimes justice.
You gonna kick someone's ass, frère pie maker?
Yes.
I'm gonna kick someone's ass.
And the ass-kicking would commence with the ass that poured the cement.
I gave him plenty of time to get out.
- Why didn't he get out? - Don't know.
It's pretty cramped in there. Maybe he got a clot and passed out.
- How'd he usually get out? - He doesn't tell me that stuff.
The monkey knows more than I do.
- You mean the dead monkey? - Yes, the dead monkey.
What, are you gonna try and pin that one on me, too?
- What about Fred and Ginger? - Don't forget the rabbit.
Alice was the only one I liked.
Damn monkey was mean.
And those birds... those horrible birds.
Every time they'd fly out of his pockets, they'd attack my weave.
So when animals attack, you attack back, then kill the guy who trained them.
No, I stand there humiliated by a mean monkey
night after night for eight years.
I told myself no more than 3, but it's been 8.
I stand there, and I take it, hoping the Great Herrmann will make good
on the carrot he's been dangling and give me my own act.
Eight years of carrot-dangling while the Bobbsey Twins pass you by?
Honey, you've been spurned,
and next to the spurned lover, the spurned employee rides shotgun
on the homicide chuckwagon.
Herrmann and anyone he shared a stage with has ended up dead, except you.
Which means you're the killer...
Killer.
Or... I'm next.
Or it was an accident, and no one's next.
Also, you're wrong.
Someone else shared the stage with the Great Herrmann...
The Geek.
So, you like the comic books, and action figures?
He's the kind that bites the heads off chickens.
Oh, animal-rights groups put a stop to that kind of geek a long time ago.
Performers dressing up as savages and eating live animals.
It's tacky and a surefire way to alienate your audience.
I eat glass and nails and regurgitate fish, frogs, and mice.
I'm working my way up to a kitten.
Regurgitating a kitten? That's a unique talent.
I trained my body to do the extraordinary.
My first job was as a plant in Herrmann's audience.
That's how we met.
He'd pretend to hypnotize me, and then, under his spell,
I'd drink a bottle of beer and then eat the bottle.
We were like a father-and-son act.
What were you and your tummy doing when Herrmann was on stage getting cemented?
I was walking the crowd. I pickpocket rings, watches,
and keys and then regurgitate them later in my act.
With all that happened, I forgot to give some of them back.
Listen for yourself.
Did you swallow a magnet?
Somebody must've had one in their pocket.
That's an amazing talent, Mister Geek.
Herrmann was the only one around here who had any respect for my contribution.
Any idea why he couldn't get out of that box?
Can't say.
I bet the Great Herrmann is in there right now striking some
"Last days of Pompeii" pose that's gonna tell you everything you need to know.
While the investigators continued to ponder why the Great Herrmann
did not get out...
Olive Snook...
was about to ponder how someone else did.
We're closed.
Vivian! You're out!
I thought we'd agreed you'd call before dropping by unexpectedly,
which would have been expected had you called.
I couldn't risk sending a message and Lily intercepting it.
This has to be covert.
I'm on a date...
with a man.
Evening.
We walked out of that sandstorm with our boots, our berets,
and our pocket watches with
no pockets to put them in.
We made a spit pact, like in the boy scouts.
Last one alive and kicking takes them watches into the desert
and lets the sandstorm claim them.
That's so very romantic and poetic,
and you certainly took your time to come calling.
Charles has been dead for 20 years.
I've been in prison for 22.
- Emotional or federal? - I'm gonna say "yes" to both.
I can only say "yes" to one.
Must seem a little less romantic now.
Oh, no.
On the contrary.
I knew what kind of man Charles was,
and the way you tell it, you boys sound more like bandits
than peacekeepers.
We were a little of both.
About Charles' pocket watch...
I do recall it.
So does Lily. I don't know why she lied to you.
I think she just wanted you to leave.
If Lily wants to keep that watch, she should keep it.
She didn't keep it.
We buried it with our niece, lonely tourist Charlotte Charles.
It was her father's. We wanted her to have it.
That poor girl murdered on a Tahitian getaway. That was Charles' little girl?
Lily is sensitive when it comes to Charlotte.
Of course she is.
She lost her daughter.
- Niece! - Niece.
I know what the relationship is.
I'm just saying, I think you both lost a daughter.
You raised the girl. How could you not feel like she's your own?
I'm glad the pocket watch is with Charlotte.
Because now, he knew where to find it,
or so he thought,
just as our private investigators thought they knew
where to find the Great Herrmann.
Where's the Great Herrmann?
Give me that.
Now you see me...
"... And now you don't. Double kisses, double hugs, the Great Herrmann."
Son of a bitch.
It was a disappearing act.
Now you see him...
now you don't.
The good news is he's still alive...
- somewhere. - Why would Herrmann disappear?
He wouldn't disappeared unless he had to.
He's an important man. He probably had important-man matters to attend to.
That's what Herrmann told us when dad left.
That's why "oh". It was an attempt to corral those words back into my mouth.
What did Herrmann tell you about when dad left?
Did he say why dad had to leave?
He told me what he told you.
Did he tell you anything he didn't tell us?
There may have been select details.
The facts were these...
On a cool autumn day 9 years,
48 weeks, 26 days, and 7 hours earlier,
Maurice and Ralston's father promised them a magic show
they would never forget.
A new magician, cleverly billed as Herman Gunt's Magic Express,
called for a volunteer.
"I'll be back", dear dad said.
The fledgling magician tried to comfort the fatherless boys
with vague but important motives behind their dear dad's disappearance.
The twins' fragile hearts
gladly believed in the illusion of his words...
Until now.
He wasn't an important man.
He didn't have important-man matters to attend to.
Your dad...
our dad...
was just some guy ditching his kids at a Sunday matinée.
That's what Herrmann told me. That's what he didn't tell you.
He didn't want to hurt you anymore than you had already been hurt.
You sure didn't have a problem telling us.
Yeah!
In my defense, you badgered me a little, and considerable time has passed.
I probably sound like some horrible missionary showing up
and telling the natives they're worshipping a false god, but...
you kind of are.
He left three sons.
There really isn't a good excuse.
Did Herrmann tell you Ralston wet himself when dad disappeared?
It was years before we could perform a disappearing act without using a mop.
Why would you say that?
I get anxiety-induced acid reflux at the mere mention of magic.
Ralston, you wet yourself.
We're two grown men with dad-related body-fluid issues.
I can't suck lozenges for the rest of my life, and you can't wear adult diapers.
I learned to control my bladder years ago.
Good for you.
I know my acid reflux is just heartburn,
and your heart's burning, too.
Look at the way you're holding on to that scarf.
You're not clinging to Herrmann. You're clinging to dad.
Holding tighter isn't gonna bring him back.
It's not gonna bring either of them back.
Where's the rest of it?
Wasn't it in that block of cement with Herrmann's, now you don't note?
Yeah, it probably should've been, huh?
The great Herrmann is dead. He died from "Cementia"
on stage with the rest of this scarf around his neck.
I knew I shouldn't have came in here. I knew it.
I should have took my ass home, turned off my phone,
and got up under the covers, but no.
Someone switched the blocks.
It's classic sleight of hand.
Herrmann was that little ball under the coconut shell.
Someone shuffled the shells around, and we looked under the wrong one.
There were two performances of "Cementia", so two blocks.
Killer shuffles the blocks, hides the one with Herrmann's body in it, and
everybody thinks the great Great just disappeared into his disappearing act.
And no body, no murder.
Makes for a great urban legend, though.
How do you shuffle a 500-pound block of cement?
Forklift.
Only one block was forklifted out of the Conjurer's Castle tonight.
Which means the other one is still inside.
The switch had to happen somewhere between the stage and the loading dock
when people weren't watching the blocks too carefully.
Using metal detectors to detect the metal of the shackles
worn by the Great Herrmann while performing "Cementia"...
"Two for the show",
featuring Olive Snook, began their search at the loading dock.
Well, I always loved a good treasure hunt.
The private investigator, the pie maker and Chuck
began their search under the stage.
It might not be the cement that killed him.
We could chisel open that block and find a murder weapon, like
a Mojave rattlesnake or a hidden hypodermic needle
that the Great Herrmann unknowingly injected himself with whilst contorting.
Or we could chisel open that block and find he drowned in cement.
Well, when we do chisel it open,
it's too bad Maurice and Ralston can't talk to the Great Herrmann.
They didn't get a chance to say goodbye.
The boohoo bosom done dried up.
Well, my boohoo bosom is plumping and brimming with milk.
A small conversation can go a long way, even under the falsest of pretenses.
Have you been crank-calling Lily again?
Not recently...
Although that does depend on how you define "recently".
Woman, don't you know people have caller ID?
There's something underneath these floorboards.
I give you "Cementia".
Herrmann slid right off the stage
and dropped into this strategically jackhammered grave.
Out of all the ways to have your body stashed, this one's not so terrible.
Maybe the killer wanted the great Herrmann
to be part of the Conjurer's Castle forever.
If the killer cared that much, you'd think he'd at least break out his trowel
and make the thing look nice. Look at those edges.
He's got to fill all this in.
Lord knows there's enough cement in the house.
Did someone just turn on the cement mixer?
Maybe it's Olive and the boys.
Maybe what's Olive and the boys?
- Whoever turned on the cement mixer. - You found the Great Herrmann.
Whoever dropped this block in there
is back to make sure Herrmann is part of the Conjurer's Castle forever.
That's his killer?
No, no! Fools rush in!
We're not fools!
Over there!
They sprang like attack monkeys.
I'll take care of them. You take care of him.
Do either of you have a gun?
- No. - No.
I'm going with Emerson.
Don't be going around chasing murder suspects willy-nilly.
What you gonna do? Use your wonder-twin powers?
Wait for me!
- Emerson. - What?
In here.
Is he dead?
That's the Geek.
He eats glass and swallows small animals. What's that up his nose?
Maybe it's a small animal trying to crawl to freedom.
Oh, no, that's all the way up in there. He's dead.
Yeah, he's... he's... he's gone.
You killed Herrmann, buried him in the floor,
and then you snuck back in here so you could seal the deal
with some more of your cement handiwork.
But you got surprised by the Geek, and then you killed him, too.
Is that how you're gonna frame me
after you beat me to death with your metal detectors?
I am an unarmed woman.
Why don't you calibrate those things to find your manhood?
If you didn't kill anybody and you ain't running 'round
here burying bodies and disposing of witnesses, what you doin' here?
Packing.
The universe killed Herrmann to send me a message,
and that message is that eight years is long enough to wait for a carrot.
Yeah, well, my associates is out digging up that carrot you been trying to bury,
and we gonna see what the universe has to say about that.
As Emerson Cod chiseled away at his suspect,
the pie maker and Chuck chiseled away at the Great Herrmann.
I live to amaze another day!
No, you live to amaze another minute.
You've been crushed by "Cementia's" deadly embrace.
I was hoping that didn't happen.
How am I talking right now and not dead?
- Magic. - It's a family trait.
Must have gotten that from your father.
And that's some potent kung fu.
Herrmann, look, I know that asking a magician to reveal the secret
- behind his great escape is very rude. - Then don't do it.
Nobody likes rude.
It could help us catch your killer.
Magic man to magic man. Plug your ears.
Magic man to magic man,
the Great Herrmann detailed the facts of the escape that wasn't.
It was not magic that
got the Great Herrmann out of his box, but a series of trapdoors.
But a magnet concealed in his shoe was not underfoot.
Magnets in your shoes? That's the secret to your greatest trick?
I could've lied to you. Told you it was force fields or telekinesis.
Somebody snatched the magnets out of my shoes while I wasn't wearing them.
Do you have any last words or regrets or
something you'd maybe like to say to Maurice and Ralston?
Something I'd like them to have.
My freezer has a false bottom.
Inside, you'll find my magic book of magic tricks and illusions.
Give it to Maurice and Ralston.
- I'd like to keep it in the family. - Time for my next trick.
With a bit of showmanship, if you don't mind.
Now you see me...
There were supposed to be magnets in the Great Herrmann's shoes.
That's how he triggers the trapdoor and escapes "Cementia".
Someone stole the magnets so he couldn't escape.
After Herrmann died, there were magnets in the Geek's stomach.
- So what? - Sew buttons.
He ate the evidence. The Geek's the killer.
The Geek ain't the killer. The Geek is dead.
Black magic woman killed him.
She took that dangling carrot and jammed it in that damn fool's head.
Stop saying that. I did not.
In fact, she hadn't.
They did not just leave me with a dead body.
- Right now, I feel like I'm very calm. - You are. You are.
Thank you, and I want to stay that way, but I need you to stay calm, too.
- So what's our promise to each other? - Stay calm.
- Which means? - No screaming?
You're wonderful.
I can't wait to let you go.
Everybody can see you.
Olive, are you okay?
I'm calm?
Hey, nerd, you need to get yourself a bigger human shield or something.
You hanging out all sorts of places I could shoot.
How about you just let wee lady wee go?
Well, I have a gun, too.
I swallowed a pearl-handled pistol.
I'm cocking the trigger with my stomach muscles right now,
and when it flies out of my mouth, it's going to shoot you in the face!
I did hear a click.
Wait... It's a click-clicking.
Oh, never mind. It's a watch.
You ain't shooting nobody in their face, Tums.
You are not gonna get away with murder.
Ned, he's got a nail.
The facts were these...
The Geek, a.k.a. Gunther Pinker,
saw a father in the Great Herrmann
and a long and happy future performing together.
But Herrmann did not see a son in him...
Only a novelty act whose novelty had run out.
Herrmann had conveniently arranged his own funeral in "Cementia."
The keys to his escape were consumed.
He made the Great Herrmann vanish and replaced him with another cube.
No body, no murder.
He intended to return with his trowel
and seal the Great Herrmann's grave with the very brand of cement
that took his life.
I would have eaten anything for that man.
I loved him like a father.
He shouldn't have called your act cheap.
That first beer bottle I ate for him was a promise, a promise he broke.
He turned his back on me, abandoned me like I was... cheap.
I was abandoned by my father when I was 9. I hated him for leaving me.
I wrote letters to my future self
telling future me to never forgive my father and to always hold a grudge.
Those letters were little, angry time capsules.
But being angry didn't help.
Despite what he did to me...
I still loved him,
and...
I wanted him back.
Now!
The Geek, a.k.a. Gunther Pinker,
regurgitator of fish, frogs, mice and now kittens,
was arrested for the murder of the Great Herrmann, a.k.a. Herman Gunt.
When they were ready, twin magicians Maurice and Ralston dealt
with the loss of their magic dad,
finding his book of secrets where he had left it.
But they knew there was someone who had waited eight long years for that carrot.
We'll make you a photocopy.
And with it, Alexandria the assistant
would become the Great Alexandria,
newest headliner at the Conjurer's Castle.
As for the pie maker, he discovered a new side to magic.
Magic was not just what disappears,
but what reappears when you least expect it.
Emboldened with this new perspective and free of the sting of acid reflux,
the pie maker arranged a private magic show for the girl he loved.
Are you ready?
Well, if we're going to a magic show, I hope you've got your lozenges.
Oh, sorry.
You helped me conquer my lozenge dependency.
As terrifying as it is, magic runs in my family...
And I kind of like being frère pie maker.
It's a nice feeling to be able to talk to the family you didn't know you had.
Okay, you can look.
Yeah?
Okay.
I want you to have that same nice feeling.
Do you want to talk to your mom?
Are we gonna crank-call Lily?
- In a way. - Ding-dong-ditch?
How?
A small conversation can go a long way,
even under the falsest of pretenses.
Okay, now that Vivian has gone to bed,
have you ever role-played?
Oh, I've role-played...
but never in a context I'd be comfortable role-playing with you.
Oh, no, not... not that kind of a role-play.
More Olives... Olive.
This is a work-your-grooves-out kind of a role-play,
not get-your-groove-on.
Oh, okay.
You've told me things only me, you and that nunnery know about Charlotte.
You being her mother and
- not being her mother. - That again.
Say, when you were a jockey,
did you ride the horses or just beat them after they were dead?
I'm not talking about a dead horse. I'm talking about a dead daughter,
and that's an awful lot of weight to haul around.
You are harshing my buzz.
Oh, I don't want to harsh. I want to help.
Help me, help you carry the weight.
Oh, Lily, unburden yourself.
If Charlotte were alive right now
and you didn't have to worry about Vivian settling your hash,
what would you say to her?
Is this the role-play part where you're supposed to be Charlotte?
Yes, aunt Lily. It's Charlotte. Don't you recognize me?
You should get your eye checked.
Charlotte, there's something you should know.
I'm listening.
I'm your mother.
Presto.
Go on.
Ask your sea of questions.
She can hear me?
There's so many.
- I want to know everything. - I want to know every...
everything?
Everything.
Start at the beginning.
Tell me about the... the day I was born.
Could you tell me about the day I was born?
I was at the nunnery.
It was right in the middle of mid-middle morning prayers.
Sister Mary Mary came running with a crucifix and a bucket of holy water.
She had ideas about the kind of spawn I was carrying.
But...
after you were born...
even she could see you were an angel.
As the once-dead girl named Chuck
had her very first conversation with the mother she'd always thought dead
and felt her heart grow full...
across town,
Dwight Dixon was visiting the dead daughter of his dead friend...
and found her coffin...
empty.
Synchro: Salomon & Gaillots
Rereading: Bruno & Toupack