Dinner to Die For

Brent, hi.

Hannah.

How are things? - Good, good.

I'm just about to pull a loaf out the oven.

Sounds delicious.

Hopefully.

Look, I just wanted to say

how much client loved your latest photographs

for the website.

I mean, it's not easy making processed cheese

look, you know, that good.

But I would love to see what you can do with a shredded variety.

Sure.

Thanks. - You have a gift.

- And so, while I'm still happy to take stills,

I've just been wondering maybe my talents are better used--

Your cookbook proposal, yeah.

Hannah...

we had a look.

But, well, it's just we feel it's missing that thing.

That certain je ne sais quoi.

OK.

- You know, that-- that crowning piece

that takes something from good

to fan-fucking-tastic!

Yeah?

Brent, I've worked--

I've obsessed about this for years.

Hannah, it is a no for now.

But don't lose heart.

Our winter deadline's coming up.

Could you get us the next draft within the week?

- Brent, that's really short notice.

Maybe I could--

- I've gotta--I gotta-- I--I--I got a call.

Hello. Brent.

Brent.

- Thanks, mate. We'll work this out.

Go. It's Brent.

Evan.

Hannah.

Doomed love.

A relationship strangled.

Was this a horrific accident

or carefully planned crime of retaliation?

Mr. Cunningham alerted authorities about the stabbing

of his wife and friends.

However, traces of poison

have been found on the victim's food.

Perhaps Cunningham has always been rotten to the core.

I am Bongani Skosana, and you're following the story

of the Rat Scratch Killer.

Only on "Murderer's Catch."

- Oof. Well, that was underwhelming.

- You're underwhelming. - Ooh.

Gotta admit though, it's not exactly original.

Sure.

The execution is a bit sloppy.

But then it's not about originality, is it?

It's about intention.

I'd say she had it coming.

- Isn't it, like, anti-feminist to be against the victim?

Whatever.

- What, you don't think women can be dicks, too?

- Oh, no. They can definitely be dicks.

I have firsthand experience with that.

Yeah.

- Oh, don't worry about that. I'll put it in the dishwasher.

- If only Cunningham had a dishwasher.

I also got to give the dude credit.

I mean, he did invite his lifelong friends over

for a dinner and then poisoned them all right there.

Something clever about that.

Mm-hmm.

What's wrong?

I'm just struggling a bit.

Work stuff.

- Your photo gig. How's that going?

- Evan, it's not a gig. I actually work there.

Cool.

- Anyway, I've been sending them

some ideas for my cookbook, and they say that they like it,

but they think that it's not good enough.

- Mm, I wouldn't worry too much about that, Han.

There's lots of stuff out there you can still try.

What I mean is, like,

do you remember when you tried to take portraits for a living?

That didn't work out.

But you didn't throw away your camera.

Instead, you found you were just better at food

than you were with people.

And now look at you.

It's like what you were saying about Cunningham.

It's about the intention, not the execution.

Look, all I'm saying

is that your heart's in the right place, OK?

Can't that be enough?

Forget it.

It's getting late.

You're a good friend, Evan.

Till next time?

I'll text you.

Mm-hmm.

Jeez, I'm coming.

Please open.

I'm gonna pee.

Finally. - Oh.

- You wouldn't believe what kind of morning I just had.

I come to my new place, there's no water,

my spare key broke inside the lock,

and I swear something died in my front door

because the smell is just, ugh, gross.

This is the third door I've tried.

I really can't take it anymore. I'm about to explode.

Oh, my God. You're gorgeous, aren't you?

- Oh. Um, listen--

Hold that thought.

Can I please come inside and use your restroom?

- Um-- I don't know.

I'm--I'm kind of busy right now. - Really?

Girl, we're neighbors.

I'm literally around the corner on the right.

60.

I'm in need, girl.

In need.

Oh, OK, come inside.

Thank you.

- Oh, no, downstairs. Downstairs!

Oh, oh.

Ooh, nice place.

- Um, it's to the left over there.

- Oh. - Over there.

Got it. Thanks!

Oh, so much better.

Hi, I'm Blaire.

OK.

Right. I'm Hannah.

- Hannah. That's a beautiful name.

- Is there anything else you need?

I took one of these.

Sorry.

It's one more thing that got lost in the move.

Sure.

Oh, OK.

- So those three trucks yesterday, that was you?

Seems a lot for one person.

- Guilty. I'm a fashion designer.

I can see that.

Yep.

Lots of clothes.

- Right. Um, anything else?

- Actually, I see you have a studio there.

You should take pictures of my designs sometime.

- Oh-- - I'll pay you, of course.

- I take pictures of food mostly.

Oh, OK.

You know what?

That sounds like fun. Let's do that sometime.

OK, cool.

Um, do you need my info, handles?

- I think I know where to find you.

Apartment 60.

60 indeed.

OK, cool. - OK.

- Chapter 4, my encounter with the hunter.

I know the hunter has found me,

my mysterious pursuer,

and still, something was eerily familiar.

Underneath that mask, our eyes driven with passion.

Was it lust?

Was it rage?

I barely had time to ponder the answer before I felt--

Hello?

It was June 17th, 1982.

Hannah May was in her apartment all alone.

It's open.

You're late. - Or so she thought.

Little did she know there was a man inside her apartment

with ill intent.

Oh, really?

- He carried with him the weight of a day stressful

and a case of red rum, red rum, red rum.

Well, it's more like fermented grapes.

OK.

You'd make a lousy killer,

but at least you have good taste.

It's still hard to talk about,

seeing photos of the victims.

- Hey, phones off during family time.

- Sorry, I'm just looking for someone online.

Someone?

Yeah.

I was determined to find him.

This cycle must come to an end.

The next stop took me back to the village.

Is there more wine left?

Mm, should be.

- But I knew that there were details.

- Please. You're such a good host.

Fine.