Jess?
Jess! Is she here?
- No. You haven't found her? - I searched the park.
All of Ainsley's favorite spots.
- Oh, my God. - Okay, okay. It's gonna be fine.
It's not gonna be fine.
It was just a game. They were just playing.
It's midnight.
That chime. It's off.
Ainsley?
Oh!
Ainsley.
My love!
Why?
Malcolm couldn't find me, so I win.
We get it. You love this.
Solving murders on a beautiful New York day.
- What's not to love? - I'd love eight hours sleep.
Eh, sleep's overrated.
So says absolutely no one.
Two bodies in 24 hours, neither of us
will be getting any sleep for the foreseeable future.
You don't have to sound so giddy about it.
Excuse me, Lieutenant.
Does the NYPD have any leads on The Bridal Butcher's identity?
I can confirm that we have no comment at this time.
Can Major Crimes confirm
that this is the Butcher's second victim?
- Wrong side of the tape, Ains. - Oh, so we're playing that game?
All right, let's cut.
No comment.
Except it's not a game.
Oh, lighten up.
I saw your grin when you rolled up.
I got to go.
Hmm?
Where is everyone?
You know I like to share these things with my friends.
JT's meeting with his union rep
and we lost Dani to vice.
It's just me and you, kid.
And Edrisa. What do we have?
Oh, it's, uh, my own creation.
It's a macchiato and a nonalcoholic Four Loko.
It will mess you up,
but in a good way.
You mean the body, don't you?
Yeah.
Young woman, early 20s.
- Any sexual trauma? - No. No marks of any kind.
Even the small birthmark at her neck
was, uh, covered with makeup.
Same as the last victim.
Our killer has a thing for perfection.
We ran down the dress from the first body,
no bridal shop recognized it.
Must be custom. I'll bet this is the same.
And an access road nearby.
Killer didn't have to drag the body far. Same as last time.
They took their time.
Posed to perfection.
This was curated.
No, designed.
So who are we looking for?
Most likely a man.
30s, maybe 40s,
with some serious psychosexual issues.
The victims were dressed as brides for a reason.
Maybe to appear virginal.
- Unspoiled. - Unobtainable.
Yes. Rejection is a powerful motivator.
So our killer won't take no for an answer?
Gil...
we have a serial killer on our hands.
Synced & corrected by -robtor- www.addic7ed.com
Hey.
What was that back there? You're stonewalling me.
- I'm doing my job. - Okay, you're avoiding us,
And don't say it's because you're chasing a new serial killer.
What did Mom do this time?
It was Ainsley.
Nothing.
Come on. Give me something.
You can avoid me all you want,
but not before you give me a lead.
The dresses. Do you know where they're from?
We don't.
Only that the dresses and the gloves are custom.
Gloves? Were they elbow-length?
Yeah. Why?
Those aren't brides.
Those are debutantes.
I got to go. Love you.
Ah, here she comes,
my beautiful bride.
Mr. David,
may we have the room?
Oh, please. I promise, no stabbys.
You knew
this whole time, didn't you?
I'm sorry, you'll have to be a little more specific.
I know a lot of things.
About Ainsley...
killing Endicott.
Malcolm told you?
What can I say? I mean, he might have mentioned it.
Oh. Oh, you didn't know that.
Ooh!
Malcolm's gonna be in the doghouse for a while.
- No, you created this mess. - No, actually, I cleaned it up.
Endicott was handled.
Until you lured him back into our lives.
Ainsley did the only thing she could.
Frankly, you should be more supportive.
Of murder?
Of survival.
No one should have to survive like this,
especially not her.
Who knows what she's capable of?
Mm.
You are a cancer, Martin.
And the closer they get to you,
the more they become you.
You know that's not how cancer works, right?
I'm taking her away.
Sweetheart, murder isn't some... coke habit
that you can fix with a handful of crystals
and a trip to Esalen.
There's no rehab for this.
Of course there is.
She's going cold turkey.
That's what I came to tell you.
You will never see your daughter again.
Edrisa, have any updates for us?
Sorry.
Coffee stopped working an hour ago.
Now I'm drinking this stuff straight.
Both vics had the date rape drug Rohypnol in their systems?
But that's not what killed them.
Correct.
Uh, both women died of asphyxiation.
My hunch is that the killer used a debreather.
Debreather?
Yeah, they're normally used in assisted suicide.
Form follows function.
Rohypnol to incapacitate them,
the debreather to kill them.
All so they wouldn't leave a mark.
Um, are we sure this ID is correct?
Well, the family identified her a half hour ago. Wh-Why?
Look at her eyes.
Oh, wow!
Heterochromia iridum.
In English?
Uh, her eyes are different colors.
Yeah, one is blue and the...
other one is brown.
Like Max Scherzer.
The, uh... the Nationals pitcher.
Three-time Cy Young winner.
2019 World Series champion!
Where's JT?
Right.
Um, but in your report, you said that she had...
Two blue eyes.
Yeah, two blue eyes.
He replaced the brown one.
This isn't about rejection for our killer.
It's about idealization.
They had to make Allison perfect.
And suddenly I'm wide-awake.
Licorice?
No. No lollipops, no licorice.
What is it with you and candy anyway?
Processed sugar creates a strong dopamine response in the brain,
essential for both those in pursuit of deranged murderers
and insomniacs.
Um, how was your meeting with the union?
Great. If I make my complaint
against O'Malley official,
we both get suspended for 20 days.
Hands up! You heard him! Hands up!
Don't move. Don't move.
But you didn't do anything wrong.
Yeah. And the the force is always gonna protect itself.
Let's work.
The glass eye in the victim... It's not medical.
They aren't meant for humans.
They're doll eyes.
Like toy dolls?
Yeah, I thought that'd grab your attention.
I'm chasing down local doll makers.
Hmm.
These killings are about the illusion of perfection,
but it's childlike, juvenile.
We're looking for someone with an arrested development
and probably deep childhood trauma.
Turns out Allison Vinhouse and Trina Chandler
both participated in debutante balls in high school.
And they also both went here,
the Windsor School of Etiquette.
Windsor.
My sister went there, too.
Then you take the school.
JT and I will take a run at the doll maker.
Dr. Whitly.
Malcolm, it's Dad!
Where you been, bud?
Thought we had a good thing going here, you know?
Solving crimes, cracking jokes.
We were partners, just like, uh, the old...
Starky and...
uh, Tubbs!
You're mixing your buddy cops.
Well, you know me... I always root for the bad guy.
Now, speaking of scary people, you really should have told me
that your mother had found out about the...
Ainsley thing.
- What happened? - Uh, well,
I'd rather not get into it over the phone, but, uh...
she's got this fakakta plan to hide Ainsley
in some posh European resort, away from us.
But I can promise you
Ainsley's not going anywhere
when there's a serial killer dropping bodies.
It's too good of a story.
Indeed. Uh, speaking of The Bridal Butcher,
- I have thoughts. - They're not brides.
His victims were debutantes.
Debutantes?
Ooh. Now I have more thoughts.
You know, when I worked the ER,
debutante season was awash with overdoses,
uh, attempted suicides.
The pressure those girls are put under...
Oh, it's criminal.
Don't remind me.
It was brutal for Ains.
Bullied and shunned for your crimes.
- Maybe that's... - What, debutante school changed her?
All that teasing made her capable of...
stuff?
I don't know.
No, no, no, no, my boy.
It wasn't my arrest.
No, your sister's been like this
ever since she was a little girl.
You know, the drive.
Those instincts.
Yeah, she's made of tougher stuff.
Because she's your daughter?
No.
Because she's her mother's.
Friggin' creepy.
Next time I'm taking the etiquette school.
Mr. Falvey?
Yes.
And... who might you be?
NYPD.
We found a body in the park earlier.
This glass eye was found on the victim.
You recognize it?
No. I'm sorry, I don't.
What do you think, JT?
He's lying.
You're proud of your work, Mr. Falvey.
Admit it. It's your eye.
One of my creations
wouldn't be found on a body.
Try in a body.
Tell us about your arrest for indecent exposure.
That was ages ago.
I was confused,
struggling with my faith.
The Bible does say "Adam and his wife
"were both naked,
and they felt no shame."
Yeah, but Adam wasn't letting it all hang out in a garden
next to a Mommy and Me class.
I'm also seeing about two dozen code violations.
One phone call and this place'll be shut down.
Please.
My business is all I have.
Who'd you make the eye for?
I'll, uh, have to check my paperwork.
Good idea.
Hello?
What did they even teach you here, anyway?
Proper posture.
Table manners.
How to demonstrate respect towards others.
Hmm. Two out of three's not bad.
You're just peeved I beat you here.
I'm annoyed because you're treating solving a murder
like it's a competitive sport.
We're brother and sister.
Everything is a competitive sport.
There are two dead women, Ainsley.
How does that make you feel?
It... It's terrible. Why...
why would you even ask me that?
I'm sorry. Uh, places like this
just remind me of the people who cut us off after Dad's arrest.
Etiquette doesn't mean anything, Ains.
All it does is cover up the truth.
I beg to differ.
Good manners hold society together.
Cultivation of civility
allowed European cultures
to flourish.
Well, that and a healthy dose of colonialism.
Miss Windsor, so lovely to see you again.
You as well, Miss Whitly.
Please allow me to introduce
- my brother, Malcolm. - Bright.
Malcolm Bright.
I'm with the NYPD.
I'm here about the murders of Allison Vinhouse and Trina Chandler.
I was devastated to learn what happened.
Since I've never had children of my own,
I think of my students...
as family.
'Course.
Can you think of any reason why someone would have killed them?
One should never speak ill of the dead, but...
I did hear whispers about parties, drugs,
ill behavior.
Can I see your class lists, contact numbers?
The parents who entrust their daughters with us
expect discretion, Mr. Whitly.
Bright. Just Bright.
You're absolutely correct.
He does need to go get a warrant,
but I'm sure you wouldn't object to
walking an old pupil down memory lane?
- Oh... - Uh, Miss Windsor,
excuse my forwardness,
but I'm offering you discretion.
The NYPD won't give you that courtesy.
They will open every door here
and read every file you have.
But if you help me now,
I can make sure that doesn't happen.
Mr. Bright, do follow me.
Of course.
Could you wait here?
Guests are not allowed beyond this point.
Sorry.
I must have left her there.
I'm Rachel, Miss Windsor's assistant.
I have the admission rolls for you.
Aren't you a little old for dolls?
Oh, all of the students get one.
Um, Miss Windsor believes they help model behavior.
The dolls are silent and perfect.
As they should be.
Do you know who makes them?
Uh, Mr. Falvey. He's wonderful.
- Go. - Gil,
Trevor Falvey made custom dolls for the etiquette school.
He's our link.
Copy that. I'll call you back.
Mr. Falvey, can we see your files on the Windsor School?
He's running.
Falvey, stop!
Oh!
It's not what you think.
Is she alive?
No. She is not.
Thank you, Sophia. Yes, thanks.
All right. Okay, you, too.
Okay, buh-bye.
Sophia Parker remains insufferable.
Catching up with old friends?
Looking for leads from my old etiquette class.
Why can't anyone in this family run away from killers?
- Myself included. - Mom, I'm just doing my job.
Well, I don't like it.
Seeing you sitting down here,
throwing yourself into a case like your brother would.
Maybe...
we should take a break.
Run off to one of Grandma Milton's far-flung estates.
Like a vacation? I can't, not now.
I finally have another big story.
One I have a connection to.
I...
Oh, um, this is, uh,
another girl from my deb class.
She-she wants to meet.
I-I got to see this through. I'm sorry.
That's what I'm worried about.
We searched your shop, Trevor.
We found more human-size eyeballs.
And these. Pictures of Miss Windsor's students.
Lots...
of pictures.
She sent them to me.
She wanted the dolls to look like her students.
I'm not some sicko. I'm a doll maker.
What about the sex dolls?
I make those, too.
Some guy in Osaka wants the perfect woman,
I can make her.
That doesn't make me a creep
or a killer.
Oh...
- Bright, we're in the middle of... - Oh, good. You're still here.
I got to hand it to you, Trevor, she is a work of art.
- Pygmalion worthy. - What are you doing?
Is this the one you tried to steal?
I wasn't trying to steal her.
"Her."
Oh, gosh, I'm sorry.
Who do I have the pleasure of holding here?
Dolores.
Her name is Dolores.
She was my first.
Oh. Well, you never forget your first.
Bright.
Can I talk to you for a second?
Sure. I'll just, uh...
Let's let him sit for a few. See how he handles the stress.
You were watching the interrogation, what do you think?
He has objectophilia.
Or, more specifically, agalmatophilia.
They got a word for everything.
Agalmatophiles form romantic attachments
to inanimate human forms...
Sculptures, dolls.
He has a psychosexual patholog,
but the doll is his outlet.
His release.
Makes him a bad suspect.
He's not our guy, is he?
I'll go give him his head back.
You like the doll maker?
Oh! Love the doll maker.
An exhibitionist objectophile?
Freud would be in heaven. But he's not a killer.
What about the eyes?
Don't get lost in the eyes.
Your doll maker's a romantic.
They don't have the commitment for serial work.
But you knew that.
You're here for Ainsley, aren't you?
She's treating this case like it's some sort of game.
A race to find the killer.
Violet?
Worried she's gonna
put the clues together and figure it all out before you?
Violet.
What do you want me to do?
Should I chloroform her? Is that it?
No, of course not.
Ugh! I was wrong
to do that to you.
And if I haven't apologized enough, I'm sorry.
I could have handled that whole mess...
a lot better.
You think?
My boy, you've won.
You're getting away with it.
This is the fun part.
It doesn't feel fun.
Well, I wonder
how it would feel for her.
If my little girl knew.
Well, there's a chance
she'd be proud of herself.
Just like I'm proud of you.
- _ - I'm Ainsley Whitly,
and I've just found the third victim
of New York City's newest serial killer,
The Debutante Slayer.
I've called the police
and obscured the face of the victim.
But please stay tuned
for more exclusive details from the scene.
What in the hell were you doing?
And if you say "my job," I'm gonna arrest you
for obstructing a murder investigation.
The lawyers at ADN.
They're looking forward to your call.
And my brother can put you in contact
with our family attorney.
Try psychiatrist.
You find a body and you shoot, what, a promo?
What if the killer was still there?
Well, then the video would be much more exciting.
How did you know Violet?
A few classes in college.
But we met at Miss Windsor's school.
I got in contact With every debutante I knew,
especially those with drug problems,
and left her a message yesterday, Thinking it'd go nowhere.
Then she called.
What did she tell you?
Uh, that she was scared.
That's it.
She wanted to talk in person.
- Who is that? - I'm working.
My producers want updates.
My agents want to...
Use this as leverage to up my deal with the network.
And the next ten texts are from Mom.
- Can I go now? - I want the video from that phone
and a list of the girls that you called, or that phone is mine.
Now you have the video and screenshots of all of my texts.
Now, will you please stop being sore losers
and let me go back to work?
Ainsley, you're being reckless.
Oh, my God!
Are we not gonna talk about the crazy hypocrisy
of you lecturing me about being reckless?
Someone needs to catch this killer.
It might as well be me.
Is Ainsley okay? I saw the news.
She's fine.
Is she involved?
Involved?
How?
Um, I don't know.
Uh, in no way. I'm just...
I'm...
I'm losing my mind, worrying.
Jessica, what's going on?
Both you and Malcolm are at 11, and I've never seen Ainsley like that.
I know. She's so damn willful. Her father thinks it's...
Her father?
Jessica, you went to him?
It was stupid.
Damn right it was.
Look,
you don't need to talk to Martin.
I'm here.
Whatever you need, I'm here.
Boss, we got to go.
Got it.
Where is Ainsley?
Network sent a car for her.
I'm too late.
I don't know.
You were right on time for me.
- _ - I'm Ainsley Whitly,
- and I've just found the third victim - _
of New York City's newest serial killer,
- The Debutante Slayer. - Hiya!
- I've called the police... - What are you...
Oh.
You know that thing where you go on a two-day caffeine bender
just to plow through a massive amount of corpses
and, at the end of it all, you can no longer feel your gums?
Maybe you should call it a day.
Uh, no can dee-do.
No, not until my pulse...
drops below 100.
Put me in, coach!
Use my tachycardia to your advantage.
Let's sniff out a perp.
Okay.
I've hit a wall.
Three victims, no leads.
Did you check, uh, number three's phone?
Because, um, your sister sure did.
Oh, my God.
The phone.
She unlocked it. But so did we.
Ainsley rushed out of here in a hurry.
She must have found something.
Wait.
It's a 736 number.
Those are old. Like, from the '30s.
Uh, nobody picked up when we checked it.
How do you know it's old?
Oh. "7-3" used to be, uh, "P-E."
It stood for "Pennsylvania Exchange"
back when they used alphanumerics.
Hmm. Yeah.
I'm good at this.
Well, the only places with numbers that old
are libraries, hotels...
etiquette schools.
It's only one digit off the Windsor School main line.
It must be her private number.
Ainsley went to the Windsor School.
Oh, wow. Like, he sets 'em up and I just knock 'em down.
Miss Windsor fits the profile.
Her drive to perfect young women was rejected by modern society.
Violet, Trina, Allison...
Her faux daughters...
They all rejected her perfection.
She was making them perfect again.
Ainsley rejected it, too.
Your sister?
Who knows what Miss Windsor will do to her. I have to stop her.
Can I come?
Absolutely not.
Thank you so much for agreeing to meet with me again, Miss Windsor.
Please. Sit down.
Tell me,
one sugar or two?
Mm.
How long has it been since you had a proper tea service?
Oh, ages ago.
I'm more into juice cleanses these days than tea.
But this looks delish.
ous.
This looks delicious. Thank you.
Miss Windsor, can I ask you a question?
- _ - You may ask me anything.
But, first, try the tea.
Oh...
It's lovely.
Miss Windsor,
the latest victim of The Debutante Slayer
received a phone call from your school
just before she died.
Why did you call her?
Recently, we've had...
some financial difficulties,
which has meant...
calls... to graduates.
Fundraising.
- You're out of money? - Out of time.
People don't care about manners anymore.
It's a shame.
We used to value so much more.
I thought I told you to go home.
It appears the police have returned.
Unannounced.
That's my brother.
Please don't tell him I'm here. He wouldn't approve.
Of course.
Ladies must stick together.
Mm.
She's like that all the time, isn't she?
- Yes. Very. - Mm.
Listen, no one wants this getting political or...
God forbid... In the papers.
So if we can get our stories straight,
I think everyone'll be happy.
You want my guy to lie.
I'm no racist.
Detective Tarmel was running into an active crime scene.
It was dark.
Could have been anyone.
- Hands up! - Yo, I got my badge!
Any boy?
Nobody heard that.
I'm not going down for this.
Guys, I am just trying to mediate this.
Tarmel,
if you feel the need to bring an official complaint...
Which is your right...
We can do that.
But these things can get messy.
I don't see how it ends well for either of you.
Bright's going to the school.
He's gonna need backup.
We're done here.
We are not done here. I need an answer.
Are you filing?
No.
You're scared.
That's why you're such a miserable cop.
'Cause that hatred you feel...
It's poison.
But I'm not gonna let it poison my life, too.
And now we're done.
To what do I owe the pleasure?
Miss Windsor, is my sister here?
You should have called first.
Miss Whitly is not here. Good night.
You're lying!
- What gives you the right to... - Etiquette.
You turned your back on me, a guest.
Manners dictate a proper exit.
You can show me the door firmly, not dismissively.
You'd only risk incivility
to hide another break in decorum.
Lying.
I'm not lying!
A raised voice.
And you used a contraction, which is shocking given,
you know, you.
I bet you have some stories.
Come on.
You've got the tea, I've got the time.
Why don't you tell me a few?
I'd rather show you.
Who are you to judge me?
I am perfectly within my right to do whatever...
The last victim received a call from your private line.
I never use that number.
- What is it? - Oh...
Who are we looking for, Miss Windsor?
Sarah, is the killer here?
Your sister's up in the tea room. Go.
Ainsley?!
Ainsley!
I'm so excited to show you this.
I'm saving the school.
Calling alumni, asking for donations.
Only the finest people.
Ainsley?
Oh.
Ainsley.
You look tired.
What did you put in my tea?
Oh, just something to help you sleep.
I won't let the banks close the school.
Take all of this from Miss Windsor.
From us.
Don't worry.
You won't feel a thing.
You should know...
I have a gun!
Good evening, ladies.
One's deportment tells us everything
we need to know about a woman.
Her family.
Her intelligence.
Her morals.
Are they...
a good person?
One mistake...
can destroy everything.
But everybody makes mistakes.
Not you.
You have to be perfect.
You're not supposed to be in here.
No man has ever been in here.
I apologize.
I'm here for Ainsley.
Get-get out!
The victim's names.
You crossed them out.
They betrayed everything that this school stood for.
Whose room is this, Rachel?
The bed, the dolls.
Who lives here?
But no one would take her.
What was I supposed to do?
Please.
Help me.
Hide her.
Keep her secret.
No one can know the truth.
You wicked, wicked girl!
Miss Windsor's your mother.
There are s... some things
that people do not need to know.
I'm not sure I agree.
What if hiding the truth
hurts people?
Turns a person into something they are not?
Oh, Sarah...
how could you?
The wrong sort of man,
letting him do that to you.
No, she gave me a home.
She loved me.
But never like the other girls.
So you directed your rage towards Violet,
Trina, Allison.
These women that rejected the love
that you craved so much.
And Ainsley.
She was going to expose the truth.
My mother called me her secret angel.
No one can ever know the truth.
Rachel,
the gun is not like the debreather.
It's brutal, violent.
D-Don't worry. I'm gonna make your sister beautiful.
Wait.
Don't do this.
There has to be another way.
Ainsley!
- Are you okay? - Yeah.
I'm sorry, Rachel, but they can never know.
- I smell gas. - What?
We need to get out of here. Now!
Come on. Come on!
What is she doing?
Nothing good.
That was crazy.
And that's coming from someone
who knows a little something about crazy.
- This city never fails to surprise me. - Yeah.
And neither do you.
Tell me, how were you not drugged?
Ah. New nail polish.
It changes color when your drink's been roofied.
I figured Rachel would get a little suspicious
if I didn't at least act a little drowsy, so...
I guess this means I kind of won, huh?
Like, I solved the case first?
What? Why are you looking at me
like I'm The Debutante Slayer?
- It's not that. - Exactly.
I'm the kick-ass reporter who stopped the killer.
With your help, of course.
You put yourself in danger.
But I had to figure it out.
Not who did it, but...
Why she did it.
Yeah. I get that.
My father was a serial killer also, Malcolm.
I was young, but
I have a right to be messed up, too.
The Debutante Slayer nabbed.
Bravo, Malcolm!
And Ainsley has an exclusive.
I'm not ashamed to admit it: I'm a proud papa.
This is a disaster.
Oh. Enjoy the win, Jess.
You got to learn how
to suck the marrow out of life.
Mm. You were right.
I can't take her away. She's too unstable.
Maybe even more so than Malcolm, if that's possible.
- Oh, it's entirely... - Don't say another word.
Just for a second, be the man that I married
all those years ago, not this monster.
Just for a second, be him.
We're going to lose them, Martin.
They'll be arrested, devoured by the media,
imprisoned, or worse.
What do you need from me?
A partner.
Help me save them.
Of course.
And we will.
Even these chains can't stop me.
Nope.
There's nothing I won't do
to save my family.
*CREDITS*