Nancy Drew

Thanks for having coffee with me, Ms. Samuels.

So, do you have the headline for the society profile yet?

I was thinking "Ryan It on for Size."

"The Prodigal Hudson Returns."

Or "The Hudson Also Rises."

I think that Ms. Samuels has got it covered.

Just... "Ryan" to help.

You're good.

We're big fans.

Especially of your... of your early investigative work.

Before I sold out

and started profiling the rich and famous?

I just put my foot in my mouth.

Nah. I'm shameless.

Your investigative work is pretty impressive, too.

Impressive enough to score an alumni interview

with the Columbia School of Journalism?

Hmm.

I may or may not have an application in.

Any advice is welcome.

Looking forward to life beyond the Bay,

huh? Big fish,

small fish shack. Is that your deal?

No. I wouldn't say that.

This town made me.

I solved my first mystery

at the warehouse down the street.

I taught myself how to read lips

at the ice cream shop.

"Pistachio with sprinkles" was a tough one.

That's all good stuff. The interviewers will love that.

And I like how clean your social media is.

No bikini pics.

Nothing overtly sexual.

You come across as someone who's wholesome.

You're the kind of girl people can take seriously.

I have been known to wear a bikini sometimes.

I-I don't think that

that changes my accomplishments

or my intelligence. Well,

you wanted my advice?

Don't give them any reason to judge you.

Well...

Hi, Lily. How are you?

Excuse me. Thanks for your advice.

Hey, Lily. I saw that one of the windows

at your shop was boarded up.

Yeah, someone smashed it last night.

All they took was one bouquet of flowers.

Like, who steals flowers?

That's weird. Did you call the police?

Yeah. I got Detective Tamura.

You know, the one with the bedside manner of a plumber.

Said about two words

and hung up. If you want,

I can look into it for you. Sure.

If it runs me less than another window,

I'd be willing to pay you to find who did it.

Oh, well, I would be willing to let you.

Okay.

Hey.

You wrapped that up pretty quickly.

Yeah. Yeah, it took an unexpected detour.

Apparently, in order to succeed in life,

I need to don a nun's habit and stay chaste.

Well, that's good, right?

'Cause someone's always chasing you?

That's great. Good.

Well done.

Odette better leave this body as she found it.

Are you taking pictures of yourself like a rental car?

Yes.

Hey. Hey. I guarantee

you return with the same number of tattoos and piercings.

Okay. Well, it's still a good plan.

Okay.

: Boys, you are staring.

Odette.

Uh...

I'm gonna stay here

the whole time you're in control. Mm.

Ca va. You stay here.

I'm going out. Uh, no.

I'm keeping an eye on you.

That's George's body. George's rules.

You're not going anywhere without a chaperone. Yeah.

How do you intend to stop me?

Hi. Um, Nancy wanted me to tell you that...

You are not George.

I'll take the girl.

Pardon? Bess,

ma petite chou, would you squire me

around town this evening?

Uh, can I squire you?

Um...

Yes. Yeah, sure.

Formidable.

Uh, wh... "Dabla" for me, too, I guess.

"Petite chou." Hey, did you just call me a cabbage?

Hey, would you-would you chaperone the chaperone,

just in case something goes wrong?

Yeah. Yeah, I can watch their date.

It's not a date.

No, of course not.

Nancy Drew.

To what do I owe the nuisance? Detective Tamura.

I hear you're making some new friends.

Lily the florist came to see me. Ah.

The great bouquet heist. Crime of the century.

Already on it.

Care to share any details?

Why would I do that? Because

I've got something.

And I thought

maybe if you show me what you've got,

I could show you what I've got.

The floral case...

may be part of something bigger.

The third odd break-in this week.

Home goods store. Monday.

Same M.O.-- smash-and-grab.

Nothing missing from the till. Just a set of candles.

Next up...

The jewelry store. Tuesday.

Seems like a bigger deal.

Except they only took two simple gold rings,

left everything else.

Store cams had no angle.

Your turn.

There was a dumpster-related dispute

two years ago which led to the baker

and the butcher spying on each other,

so they put cameras all over the place.

So I asked them for the footage from last night.

Benefits of being a local.

Who's that?

I think if you're gonna work this beat,

you might want to learn to ask

"What is that?" instead of "who."

What about that who?

The suspicious parked car with the male driver?

That is a who I know.

Hi.

Okay.

I, uh,

I thought I smelled bacon.

I keep kosher.

What were you doing parked on Main at 2:30 a.m.?

I went for a drive. Find someone else to harass.

Hey.

How are you? After, you know, everything with your mom.

Yeah. I'm-I'm fine.

Okay.

You had to have seen who smashed up the florist's. I had never

seen her before. Okay.

Oh, looks like we got a new ghost in town.

You know, normal burglars don't go walking around

in vintage, brocaded wedding gowns, Detective.

A wedding gown?

How do you know what brocade is? I have an eye.

Here.

Look.

Like I said: ghost burglar.

Welcome to Horseshoe Bay.

I raided my local source for records

of supernatural phenomena.

Typical waitress occurrence.

There was one account in particular

that stood out to me

under "bride, comma, ghost."

There you go.

Brocade bodice.

How does every man suddenly know what that is?

So, what's your theory?

This bride is back from the dead and window-shopping?

That's a... Now who's back from the dead?

The cop's son subscribes to ghost theory, too?

Or are you running another scam on me?

Whatever do you mean, "another"?

According to the old keepers' research,

the dress itself has supernatural abilities.

The Bridal Gown of Boothbay

tames the wildest of women

by suppressing their carnal desires.

Who would want that?

It was all the rage back in the day.

It's why they invented graham crackers.

Graham was a preacher

who believed that unbleached flour

kept you from... touching.

Guess that being bound in whalebone corsets

just wasn't enough.

Well, supposedly, the dress

converted women into chaste, submissive brides

just in time for them to make it to the altar. So, where

does the lust go?

Into the dress?

Like... like butterflies in a net?

Apparently, it worked.

Until 1919,