Why Women Kill

Previously on Why Women Kill...

She deserved a beautiful death.

You put her to sleep?

Like she was a dog?

She was on the verge of so much suffering.

They all were. - They allwere?

The Elysian Park Garden Club can't be associated

with a public scandal.

That would be awkward.

Go ahead.

You don't want to keep your rich girlfriend waiting.

Scooter, I've been thinking.

How'd you like to come live with me?

Well, what about Carlo?

The doctors say it's like

he's trapped in his own body.

Catherine.

I brought you a present.

Your husband. Come on, Papa.

Home sweet home.

Did Scooter's rich lady friend hire you? - Yeah.

I thought you were going to turn me into the police.

You have murdered dozens of people.

There will be no more death!

There's going to be so many questions.

Good morning, Mrs. Yost.

Mrs. Carol Yost had lived next door

to Alma Fillcot for 20 years.

And Alma had done everything she could

to befriend her neighbor.

She had invited Mrs. Yost to birthday parties,

to backyard barbecues

and to Christmas sing-a-longs.

But Mrs. Yost always declined

to attend any of Alma's gatherings.

Until the night the Fillcots threw a funeral.

Mrs. Yost was forced to attend this time, because, well...

...she was the guest of honor.

Shouldn't the hole be deeper?

I can't go any deeper.

There are pipes everywhere.

I... I don't...

Hey, grab her arms.

I'll get her legs.

Ready? - Yes. Oh.

Oh. Oh.

Okay. Should we say a few words first?

No.

What if one of our neighbors decides

to take a midnight stroll?

Can we at least bury her with some flowers?

Oh, of course. Yes, that would be lovely.

Yes. Okay.

Yes. Flowers...

No, no, no. - Mm?

Not daisies. Mrs. Yost hated those.

How do you know that?

Oh. We talked once, over the fence.

About daisies? - Well...

flowers in general.

She used to grow orchids with her husband.

I didn't know that. - Yes.

She was full of all sorts of fascinating botanical opinions.

Oh. Did she ever say anything about my garden?

Hmm?

All these years,

I've always wondered what Mrs. Yost thought of it.

I think I can see someone coming in the distance.

Let's discuss this later.

Bertram.

What did she say?

Mrs. Yost thought your garden was common.

Common?

She felt that poppies and daisies were...

unambitious flowers.

Designed for gardeners with a more...

pedestrian taste.

She really said that?

Yes. I'm so sorry.

No. It's good.

It's good that I finally know.

I am now prepared to bury Mrs. Yost.

Okay.

As she watched Mrs. Yost's burial,

Alma's hurt feelings were soothed

by the most ironic of thoughts.

The woman who'd spent 20 years

looking down on her flowers...

would now spend eternity

looking up at them.

The next morning, Alma Fillcot awoke with a horrible thought.

She was now a woman with a secret.

This idea was so disturbing,

she failed to notice the colors of her world had changed

ever so slightly.

And everything was more vibrant than before.

Ah. Morning, my darling.

I'm cooking bacon and eggs.

You hungry?

Not terribly.

Perhaps you'd prefer, a-a muffin?

You've got corn or blueberry.

Do you really think that this is a day for muffins?

I'm pretending nothing happened.

That's what you wanted, right?

For us to go about how we were.

Don't touch me! - Ah.

Don't think that just because I helped you bury a body

I've forgotten the dozens of people that you have killed.

To forget something like that, I...

It might take a while.

Most certainly.

But in the meantime, we need to come up with a plan.

For what? - Well...

Mrs. Yost's friends will soon notice she's missing.

They'll ask questions,

and we need to have some answers.

I've been thinking about that.

I'm not so sure she had any friends.

I work out in my garden for several hours, every day.

I saw her go out. I saw her come home.

What I never saw was someone stopping by for a visit.

Hmm. Perhaps that's why she was always in a bad mood.

She was just lonely. - Not too lonely.

You know, in 20 years,

she never once asked me over for coffee?

Hmm.

Hello? - Ooh.

Am I interrupting?

Not at all. - No. No.

How are you two doing?

Oh, we're fine. - Yes.

Everything's fine...

Yes, your mother and I reconciled last night.

Quite beautifully. - Hmm.

Ah!

Just like that?

Given what Daddy did?

Deirdra, you know...

this is our marriage,

and we'll see to our problems as we see fit.

We don't owe anyone an explanation.

Not even our beloved daughter.

Okay.

I'm going to take a quick shower and then go to work.

All right. Ah. Mm.

Did something happen to Mrs. Yost?

Hmm?

Why do you ask?

I just passed by her house

and Rocco's in there barking like crazy.

The dog.

So, on to today's main business.

We have an opening for a new member.

Any suggestions? - Oh...

I nominate Alma Fillcot.

Yes, I know. She's just a veterinarian's wife.

But she is very, very nice.

Fine. Alma Fillcot.

Who else?

I nominate Ada Coy.

I'm dying to see the inside of her house.

We don't want Ada.

I heard she's having the tackiest affair. - With who?

She's sleeping with her dermatologist.

Well, I guess that's one way to cure an itch.

Rita...

One quick question.

Oh, ladies, this is Carlo's daughter, Catherine.

She's helping me look after him.

Uh, we were just wrapping up here,

so if you can wait till we're done...

Actually, this is a question for your club.

You see, I was doing my Papa's taxes,

trying to figure out what's deductible,

and I found this file marked

"Garden Club Expenses." Hmm.

Rita, for the past eight months

you've written checks to the East LA Realty Group.

They say they manage several apartment buildings

in Chinatown.

Does your club have offices

in a Chinatown apartment?

Not that we're aware of.

I have no idea where those checks came from.

But, surely, you must know who lives in the apartment

you're renting.

Her dermatologist, perhaps?

Rita, if you'd like us to leave...

No, stay.

Yes, I've been renting that apartment.

In secret, because...

Carlo drinks. - What?

I needed a place to go where I'd be safe from his violent rages.

Are you saying he strikes you?

How dare you? My father would never hit anyone.

Oh, poor Catherine. I should have told you years ago,

but I was trying to protect you.

Oh, she's lying.

You're lying. - You poor thing.