Only Murders in the Building

- Something happened today. -

Oh, my God, they've been shot!

It's Glen, he's still alive!

-Zach! -They got me in my fat!

All of you may have heard about our little "firearms moment" at the photo shoot,

-but the show must go on! -Woo!

Got me thinking.

I was gonna propose, and I choked.

-Ronnie's bonded with Loretta. -Who's Ronnie?

-She's my Finsta. -Oh, no!

I wanna spend whatever time I have left with you.

Ugh...

Dudenoff? Not in Portugal. Nope.

He's been cashing social security checks at a bodega on 125th Street.

-This is Sazz Pataki's remains. -

Gravey, that's my friend!

Here's her left shoulder.

- No, it's not. -Yeah. See? It says "left".

No. This one says "left". In Bulgarian.

There's two left shoulders?

They just identified the other left shoulder!

It belongs to Dudenoff. Dudenoff was murdered.

We put hidden cameras in our production office and in your apartments.

-Whose camera is this? -

"I'm watching you."

We're not safe in this building!

- -It sucks.

It's a crime-ridden hellhole .

And don't hit me with that, "The numbers don't bear that out," shit.

You ever get mugged by a number?

-Go, go, go! -Where are we going?!

Out of the city! The killer was in our apartments,

and filming us, which makes him a perv, too.

Alright, alright. Putnam, get in the zone. Gotta craft the perfect...

poetic breakup text. So far, I have, "It's over,"

exclamation point, exclamation point,

followed by 10 more exclamation points.

You're breaking up with Loretta?

I've never seen someone worse at being in a happy relationship.

Mabel, I showed her my soul, and she said, "Ugh."

So I'm ripping off the Band-Aid and taking my heart with it.

N-Now, drive faster.

Oh well, we don't even know where we're going!

We gotta find a safe house, and it can't be a hotel

because credit cards can be tracked.

Well, what about your sister on Long Island?

-The one whose daughters all have D names? -

I can't lead a killer to my kid sister's house!

I thought her husband was a cop.

- Hello. -Howard? Hey, listen to me.

Um, don't tell anyone,

-but in case we, like, disappear... - Uh-huh.

...we went to Charles' sister's in Patchogue.

Also, I need you to go to that bodega

and figure out who's been cashing Dudenoff's checks.

- Okay... -Also, this tech-savvy psycho

could be tracking our movements! Turn off your phone!

Oh, you're right. Bye, Howard. Oliver, turn it off.

-Okay. Fine. Devastating text, sent. -

Okay, Doreen. Here we come.

Now, you want peace? Safety?

A good night's sleep because you know your female loved ones

ain't gonna get punched in the face at Gristedes?

Well, my friend, there's only one county

on God's green earth for you.

The county of Suffolk.

Strong Island, baby!

Of course, uh, no place is perfect.

I should give you a little, uh, heads up about my sister.

Uh, and I don't like saying this about my own flesh and blood,

but she can be, uh, very...

uh, spontaneous?

-Ooh, sick burn. -

- -

Ah!

Well, look who finally decided to show up for Thanksgiving.

Too bad it's April.

Come on.

- -

I like your dolls.

Oh, thank you. You know,

the big ones are very hard to come by now.

Something about the supply chain, but...

Yeah, I started collecting after, uh, Dawn's wedding.

And then, when Dina and Danielle went to DeVry,

and then Dagmar, which is my youngest, still a baby,

she really just left to wound me.

So, I guess you replaced your children with dolls, huh?

Wow.

I have never made that connection.

You are intuitive.

That is much more important in a man than height.

-Thank you. -Mm.

I always wondered what you look like.

You know, I know your voice from the podcast,

but sometimes, I would, uh, slow it down.

I'd deepen your register.

Then, I speed it back up, and you sound like a little frisky chicken.

Ah...

Then slow it down again. And then speed it up.

Then, slow it down.

And then, I speed it back up.

Where's Big Mike? We could use a cop around here.

Well, I kicked him out again.

He's livin' on the boat in the driveway.

One too many nights at Can-Cans.

- - Uh,

I feel like I'm gonna regret asking this, but what is Can-Cans?

It's Hooters for butts.

I was right.

This is what I married. He's a pig.

Just hoggin' down mozzarelly sticks, surrounded by

random women's mud flaps.

Oh, anyway, more room for you.

And no murderer is ever gonna check here

'cause they know you're not gonna come visit your sister!

Hey.

Oh, what are you gonna do? Inflict another permanent injury on me?

- Doreen, please. - Oh, my God, he's so sensitive.

Pardon me, I'm gonna get you some fresh towels.

If you're gonna stay over, you need towels!

-What are you, one or two? -One.

I thought so.

You're a two-towel guy. I can tell that. You're gonna need it.

I want you dry.

I'm scared.

Alright, Charles, can you catch us up on the plot of...

"August: Suffolk County"?

It's probably what you would've guessed.

When Doreen was 3, I was pushing her on a swing,

and I pushed her too hard, and she flew off,

and ended up losing her spleen.

I wouldn't say that was exactly what I would've guessed.

-No. -She knows I feel terrible about it,

and she loves spleen-shaming me.

-Maybe this was a mistake. -No, no, no, no, it's quiet here,

so we can work on the case and hopefully not die.

Does this gorgeous doll remind you of anyone?

Braids, porcelain skin,

perky little set of...

Oliver! The case!

You know what? You handle it.

'Cause I'm exhausted

and freshly heartbroken.

Charles?

Mabel, I have to come up with a security plan!

-I need to make this place murder-proof... -

...and then give law enforcement a, uh,

tactical appraisal of the situation.

You mean talk to the butt-lover in the driveway boat?

Yes.

Meanwhile,

towels. You wanted two. There you go.

One towel.

"Can-Cans Wet Bench Night."

Oh, Long Island, you're so... you.

Big Mike?

It's Charles!

- -I'm borrowing your toolbox.

I found you! Finally!

-I have left you so many messages! -Bev?

It's a good thing Howard knew where you were. So listen,

this is serious. The studio is asking if the Brothers Sisters are the killers.

If they are the killers, I have to fire them.

If they might be, but we can't prove it,

that is a gray area that I can sell. So, what is it? Tell me.

It's definitely not them... I think.

Okay, he says they're not the killers. He's right here.

He seems, like, 60% sure.

That sounds low?

Well, 50% of one margarita was enough

for you to flash your boobs at the Fabelmans premiere.

Bev, this is an emergency safe house situation, so I need your phone.

He did see them, Monica!

He saw 100% of both of them!

What? Oh, my God!

Oliver, what are you doing?

Mabel, not now!

I'm busy with an urgent new mystery.

The whereabouts of Johnnie Walker.

Well, I'm just trying to find a place to work

that isn't filled with dolls.

- Oh, my God. -I mean, it's so creep...

With that little baby voice...

Is that Bev Melon?

Howard, come on!

Okay. Hey, am I to believe people suffer a life in Patchogue sober?

Ah, of course not. Bar she blows.

-Hey. Okay, I'll call you back, bye. -Bev, what are you doing here?

- -We're dead. We're all fucking dead,

that's what I'm doing here. I don't fucking know.

Wh-What do you mean? What happened? Is there someone out there?

No. I wish it was so simple, Mabel.