Why Women Kill

Previously on Why Women Kill...

Oh!

We tell the neighbors that Mrs. Yost went away.

Or better still, we could arrange

for some of them to see her leave.

They'll start to look for her,

miles and miles away from our front yard.

He put a codicil in his will

saying that if I would embarrass him

with any men he didn't approve of,

he would disinherit me.

She'd be disinherited if she was caught in a compromising

-position. -You're asking me to screw her?

-So, that's her? -Well, you got your answer.

-Now, let's go. -Wait.

God, I am so stupid.

Hey. Hey!

I'm his lover.

You cheated on me with that?

You deserve each other.

It's over.

We have an opening for a new member.

I nominate Alma Fillcot.

She is very, very nice.

From the moment the phone rang,

Alma Fillcot knew she was in trouble.

As every housewife knows,

good news...

never calls before 9:00.

-Hello? Thank God you're home.

It's Grace. I...

I called you ten times yesterday.

I was out of town.

What's wrong?

Oh, nothing much.

Except you're about to be ambushed.

Ambushed?

As you know, I have been campaigning for you

to get the open spot in the Garden Club.

But...

well, Rita Castillo is not convinced

that you'll be a, um...

a good fit.

Oh, she... she's not?

I begged her to give you a chance.

So, she's decided to drop by your home

for a surprise inspection.

Rita is coming to my home?

With the entire nominating committee.

Today at 3:00.

My house is a mess.

Well, then don't spend another second talking to me.

Grace, you-you are, you are a true pal.

Happy to help.

But if you tell Rita I warned you,

I will denounce you as a liar.

Oh, I understand completely.

I'm so glad.

Well, good luck.

Alma raced into her living room,

determined to clean like she'd never cleaned before.

But as she looked around at the worn sofa

and chipped knickknacks that filled her modest home,

Alma realized hasty housework

wouldn't be enough to impress the chic ladies

of the Garden Club.

What she really needed was to fill her home

with lovely things.

And with no time to go shopping,

Alma did the next best thing.

She went to a dead woman's home,

and began borrowing.

While Alma was busy committing theft in Los Angeles,

her previous crime was being discovered

hundreds of miles away.

Who found it?

Well, some kid went fishing this morning hoping to catch a trout.

Hooked a Dodge instead.

So, what do we think happened here?

Car's registered to a Carol Yost in L.A.

My guess?

She was on a road trip, fell asleep at the wheel,

then drove into the lake.

Any sign of a body?

Not yet.

Guys.

Come here.

Look at this.

Looks like she had company.

Rocco, come Hey!

Rocco.

Hey.

God. Not in Alma's flowers.

She'll lose her mind.

Alma?

Rocco, come on.

Alma.

Lord. You scared me.

-Is that Mrs. Yost's lamp? -Yes.

But I don't have time to explain.

We're under attack!

What? By who?

Alma.

Stop.

Hey.

I insist you tell me what's going on.

If you must know,

the ladies from the Garden Club are coming over today.

To judge us.

Alma...

What does that got to do with Mrs. Yost's things?

Our house is drab.

It's filled to the rafters with shoddy bric-a-brac.

But Mrs. Yost, on the other hand,

she had lovely things.

She possessed the kind of taste

that the Garden Club ladies will respect.

That's your excuse to steal?

To impress a bunch of snobs?

Bertram.

If you will help me through this very trying day,

I promise...

I will stop complaining about all those people you've killed.

Think about it.

From this moment on,

we'll be even.

What a lovely vase.

Okay.

Hey. What's going on?

N-No, stop. You can't take my sofa.

It's not your sofa.

It's mine, remember?

I paid for everything in this apartment,

which you are leaving. Today.

Oh, you're still mad, huh?

Just a skosh.

Take these bottles to the truck.

And, you, take the suits.

You're taking my suits?

Oh, come on, Rita. Have a heart.

I do have a heart.

It's a shame you had to find out by breaking it.

Oh, wait, wait, wait. Now, I...

I know I messed up,

but if you get rid of these guys,

then I'll make it up to you.

You want to screw your way out of this jam? Fine.

But I'm not the one you need to seduce.

You're still trying to get me in bed with Carlo's daughter?

If you can pretend to be interested in a fat girl,

you can fake a bit of passion for a middle-aged woman.

I never faked it with you, baby.

Ah!

Oh, you meant Catherine.

Leave nothing!

No, wait.

Rita, please.

Don't do this.

Catherine is out to destroy me.

And she'll succeed, unless I get some leverage.

And you are the only one who can help me do that.

But do I have to sleep with her?

A photo of Catherine in bed with a young buck

would disinherit her.

That's how I'll blackmail her out of my life.

And you can have your suits back.

What could be simpler?

But I'm an actor, not a whore.

Scooter, I've seen your acting.

I wouldn't be so quick to rule out a more viable career.

Go to hell.

I don't need you.

We'll see about that.

Oh.

And I paid for this, too.

Hey!

Hey, Mrs. Ayashi.

Hello.

Is this Vern Loomis?

Sure. Who's this?

The guy whose life you ruined.

You'll have to be more specific.

You think this is funny?

Sophie's going to divorce me.

Ah...

This must be Mr. Hemple.

And she told my boss.

Then he fired me because of you.

No, Sid.

He fired you because you were knocking boots

with his secretary.

You're going to pay for what you did to me, Loomis.

Oh, so dearly.

"Oh, so dearly"?

Who taught you how to make death threats?

Noël Coward?

Hello?

Sid?

Scooter.

What's with the getup?