iZombie

Previously on iZombie...

night of the boat party.

Tell me what you cut the Utopium with, and I will cure you.

This is FBI Agent Dale Bozzio.

She'll be looking into a string of missing person cases.

Check a few zombie souls off your little list, like a good boy.

Major? This dude was trying to keep us off drugs!

I need help.

What are we doing?

Well, it's hard to put a label on it just yet.

But I'll get back to you in a minute.

We should stop.

We don't know enough about how zombie is transferred.

All this kissing.

I've been kissed by blonde Liv before.

Still human.

But that wasn't as prolonged and there were no tongues involved.

Do you have any open sores in your mouth?

Sexy

How hard have you been brushing your teeth?

So hard.

That's it.

Kissing moratorium until we're sure I didn't just turn you into a zombie.

So, we're going the Pretty Woman no-kissing-on-the-mouth route.

- I'm down. - Oh, my God.

Horny boys are the worst. When all your blood returns

to the normal locations in your body,

you're going to care whether that make-out session has left you living or living dead.

...on the drive.

- Left-handed lay-up! No good! -

- Hey. What you got there, mister... -

- He shoots! -

He scores!

- How are you feeling? - Great.

Who doesn't enjoy waking up to a beautiful woman cutting off his circulation?

Pulse seems normal. Pallor's okay.

BP's 116 over 77.

No alarm bells yet, but the truest test,

coffee.

Is that look of disgust because you need cream and sugar,

or because you need habanero?

It's because you're still incapable

of turning hot water and coffee grounds into a palatable beverage.

Liv, relax.

I'd know if I turned into a zombie.

- I didn't. - We got lucky.

That's not how I remember it.

I'll rephrase. We dodged a bullet.

Mmm.

You know what I keep asking myself?

Why, why didn't the Seahawks just give the ball to Marshawn?

How stupid must we be?

Unless there's a cure, we have no future as a couple.

- You're sure about that? - Well, think about it.

You've always wanted kids. That could never happen.

No sex.

Clearly you're not ready to write that off.

I seem to recall a couple items on the menu

that don't involve the exchange of fluids.

I could be holding your arm, walking down an icy sidewalk.

I slip, I reach out for you, I scratch you, instant zombie.

So far, to me, it sounds like

all of our problems could be solved with condoms and rock salt.

But you came over here because you needed help.

We were best friends.

- Let's be that again. -

It's Ravi. We've got a body. Sorry.

I'll check in with you later. Okay? Friends.

Friends.

Mike Hayden, night security guard.

Shot through the heart.

And who's to blame?

No Bon Jovi fans here.

After hours visitor log, last page torn out.

Security cameras were turned off just before the murder.

It's a password-protected system.

Only one person could've accessed it last night.

Our victim. So, what?

He turned the cameras off, so his killer couldn't be identified?

Think of how easy it would be if there was a video footage.

And the killer could've been wearing a T-shirt

that inexplicably had his name and address written across his chest.

And the address was, like, right next to the police station.

And the killer's just waiting calmly, already handcuffed,

just, sort of, reciting his Miranda rights to himself.

That would be so great! Now what're we going to do?

Guess we earn our paychecks.

My mom always wanted things just so.

The right flowers, the right stationary...

Relax.

Every single detail will be up to your mother's exacting standards.

My undertaker.

He's Finnish.

If you'll excuse me for a moment.

We have an employee's entrance.

I'll cut the Utopium for you

the same way I cut it for the boat party,

but I want the cure you said it would lead to.

God gives me strength, I won't eat brains.

Corinthians?

Never mind. Don't care. Walk this way.

Night watchman brain.

Wonder what fresh hell this is going to be.

In cricket, a night watchman is a lower-order batsman

moved up in an effort to maintain the strike

- till the end... -

Funny girl.

So, we have Unis identifying and interviewing

everyone who appeared in the security footage

before Mike turned the cameras off.

We've got three people who came in last night

who don't seem to work in the building, who no one can ID.

Thought we might get lucky with your third eye.

Sure.

Nope.

Nope.

Hmm.

Nope.

Sorry, my third eye is a little unfocused.

I skipped breakfast.

All right. Let me know if you get anything.

Will do.

Mmm.

Oh, my God.

Nothing more primal than a zombie craving brains.

It's like watching my mother try to refold a map.

The cane is right there. It's right there!

This is what I'm telling you.

This is as far as I can go with these mindless shamblers.

Now, if we're going to make any real headway with the Super Max recipe,

we need the DNA of a coherent, intelligent, functional zombie.

You live with a functional zombie.

Can you get me some of her blood?

Are you thinking she keeps a vial of it in her makeup drawer,

or are you expecting me to shiv her?

A drop will suffice. However you think best.

We've got a zombie exterminator working for us.

Why don't I just ask him to bring us some?

Whichever puts the sample in my hand first.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Suzuki. I didn't mean to imply...

Hello?

Came to take another look at those photos.

Clear eyes, full stomachs, can't lose.

I think I just did something stupid.

Yeah?

I called Suzuki's widow.

Asked if her hero husband might've been suicidal, when he shot up Meat Cute.

Whatever.

Any luck?

Still bubkis.

You're a Knicks fan?

Yes. I've had this mug as long as you've known me.

You're just now realizing I'm a fan?

I'm just impressed you broadcast it.

Nice job using your lottery pick this year on Kristaps Porzingis.

Darko Milicic.

We're really talking basketball now?

I caught you trying to put paperclips in here a couple of weeks ago.

You thought it was for knick knacks.

And Porzingis is built for the triangle.

Yeah, implementing that motion offense with Carmelo,

the biggest ball-stopper in the league on your team,

what could go wrong?

Can I help you fellas?

Are you investigating Mike Hayden's murder?

We are. What can we do for you?

He was our basketball coach.

Basketball coach. That makes sense.

We think we know who killed him.

Mr. Hayden was your coach?

Past three years. He was the best.

Who do you think killed him?

RJ's meathead dad.

- Is one of you RJ? - RJ quit a few weeks ago,

after his dad tried to choke Coach.

Who chokes someone at basketball practice?

Well, Latrell Sprewell does.

- A Knick, wasn't he? - Not at the time.

So? You guys going to arrest this dude or what?

Hey, we'll talk to RJ's dad.

Does Washington have the death penalty?

- It does. - Good.

Hi-ya!

You got to point your heel at the target.

Pivot on the ball of your foot.

- Who the hell are you? TJ Ryan?

Seattle P.D.

We're investigating the murder of Mike Hayden,

your son's former basketball coach.

RJ's off getting spoiled by his mom.

I've got him every second weekend.

We're here to talk to you, actually.

Thought maybe you could explain why you choked Mr. Hayden.

Who told you I choked him?

Was it that fairy, what's his face, from Child Protective Services?

Was it? Huh? Was it?

You got something to say about the way I raise my kid, you say it to me!

Or was it my kid?

Because that mama's boy needs a serious lesson in keeping his mouth shut.

Hey, blondie, I asked you a question.