iZombie (2015–…): Season 2, Episode 1 - Grumpy Old Liv - full transcript

LIV: Previously on iZombie...

I want my life back, Ravi.
I eat brains.

This is all we have. One dose of the cure.
Two perhaps.

MAJOR: Zombies are real, Liv.

I'm gonna kill 'em all.

I feed Seattle's zombies.

Kill my crew, I'll make more.

(GROANS)

Make more now, bitch.

MAJOR: You turned me
into a zombie.

If it's what you
thought I wanted,



then you don't know me
as well as you think you do.

Whatever happens now,
I hope you can forgive me.

POLICE OFFICER: It looks like
Suzuki must've gone down swinging.

I need you to bring in
Major Lilywhite.

Oh, my...

SURGEON: Your brother
has lost a lot of blood,

and he's gonna need
more in order to survive.

- Liv is O-negative.
- Can you come with me, Miss Moore?

No.

Time heals all wounds.

Time heals all wounds.

-(HEART MONITOR BEEPING)
-(WOMAN CHATTERING ON PA)

Hey, buddy.

LIV: Another surgery
to remove shrapnel.



Three months, three surgeries.

You need to leave.

Right now.

Please, Mom. Let me be here
when Evan wakes up.

It kills me
that he thinks I...

You were gonna let him die?

If Dr. Long hadn't been
on duty...

If he hadn't shared
your blood type...

Your brother has gotten your texts,
your emails, your voicemails.

If he wanted to see you,
you would know.

It's drugs, isn't it?

No. I'm not on drugs.

What, then?

If I told you,
you wouldn't believe me.

You'd try to
have me committed,

or you'd try to fix things in ways
that would only make it all worse.

You'd put us all in danger.

EVAN: Liv.

[inaudible]

Hey.

I'm here.

Go away.

Don't come back.

LIV: I couldn't have
given Evan my blood

even if I had been willing
to turn him into a zombie.

The second some nurse took my
pulse, took my temperature,

they would've quarantined me.

Maybe it's better I'm radioactive,
that I repel the people I love.

Keeps things simple.

Harden yourself, Liv.
You're a monster.

Act like one.

(ROCK MUSIC PLAYING
ON HEADPHONES)

(MAN SCREAMING)

If I'd said, "Yeah, Mom, heroin.
You're right.

“I'm riding the white horse,
chasing the dragon,“

she'd have put me through
hell, but she'd forgive me.

You can't give up
on your family, Liv.

- Or Peyton.
- And Major?

- Thought so.
- Or Major.

He just...

He hasn't been himself. Helton Shelter
won't give him a good reference.

He can't find a job that
gives his life any meaning.

Well, he forgave you.

That's just a simple case
of bros before... Ex-fiances.

But it would be wrong to say
I'm completely forgiven.

Things are still...

Watch out for the blood.

This is why I pay someone
to fix my car.

(THEME MUSIC PLAYING)

CLIVE: Victim was
Wendell Gordon Gale, 77.

He died at 10:32 p.m. Several
people heard the victim scream.

And we're sure it's a murder?

Well, CSI guy says the jack is
fully functional. It didn't fail.

Someone had to
kick the release.

Check out this print.
Wafflestomper.

The killer stood there
watching long enough

for the blood
to reach his feet.

He must've enjoyed
watching him die.

Or he was in shock.

Well, either way, he made his
way over to the basement.

Did you see that?

The killer might've been
on a bike.

Or a medical scooter.

Are you the detective
in charge?

Yes, ma'am.

One of the officers said
you wanted to talk to me.

I discovered the body.

Wendell was my brother-in-law,

my late husband's
older brother.

Do you know anyone who
might've wanted to kill him?

Honestly, Detective.
I'd be hard-pressed

to think of anyone
in a three-mile radius

whose day isn't brightened
by the news that he's gone.

Not particularly
well-liked, huh?

Well...

Once upon a time,
Wendell was a decent fellow.

But he's been a cantankerous
son of a bitch

for the past 30 years,
give or take.

You name it, he hates it.

The laughter of children,
puppies,

other races, his own race,

trick-or-treaters,
Christmas carolers.

What happened 30 years ago?

Well, that's when
the fibromyalgia set in.

He went on disability,
became embittered.

His wife left him,
took the two kids with her.

What was your relationship
like with your brother-in-law?

I took pity on him.

Have you noticed that
Final Hope hates me?

Her name is New Hope,
not Final Hope.

You know this.

If I wanted to give her
a depressing name,

I would've gone
with Phantom Menace.

And she doesn't hate you.
She just feels like

you don't put enough
energy into the relationship.

And she is not gonna
let herself be a bit player

in your grand drama.

At least that's what
she insinuated to me.

Sorry, New Hope. I can't
be trusted with secrets.

lam serious about this.

(RAVI SIGHING)

I think someone's
feeling sorry for herself.

- Who, me? Or...
- Oh, you.

Well, I do feel
sorry for myself.

But that doesn't mean that
I'm wrong about Final Hope.

She looks traumatized every
time I get close to her cage.

Well, maybe it's
the cannibalism.

- She is squeamish.
- Great.

I'm grossing out a rat.

That's it.

I am throwing in the towel.
I am done.

Until I'm human again, no more
interpersonal relationships.

lam all business.

I'm one of the
Riders of the Apocalypse,

leaving pestilence and
misery in my wake.

I take it drinks with the
new roommate didn't go well.

It was fine.

She's fine.

It's not like I'm gonna find
another Peyton on Craigslist.

I mean, the girl works for
the IRS, for crying out loud.

(SIGHS) Well, if you're going to be
pathetic until you're human again,

I suppose we should try
to make that happen.

Now, let me see...

What do I need to
replicate the cure?

Hmm... Ah, yes.

Utopium from the night
of the boat massacre.

The tainted stuff.

I remember having
a limited supply...

I remember asking you
not to use up the last bit...

Whatever happened to that?

Passive aggressive
is not a good look on you.

Three months of trying to recreate
it has gotten me nowhere.

I mean, the cure wasn't even
properly tested.

What if it wears off?
What if Major grows horns?

How many times
can I say "I'm sorry"?

- Well, one more would be good.
- I'm sorry.

All right, then.

But would we prefer that Blaine was
out there making more zombies?

That's why I gave him the cure, to
make sure that, that couldn't happen.

Plus, I got the distinct impression that
Major would've put a shotgun in his mouth

before he'd eat brains.

-(SIGHING) - Okay, so,
in the grand scheme,

maybe it was
a little short-sighted.

Let's find that Utopium.

Where do we start?

- Blaine.
- Of course.

All roads lead to
your new mortal enemy.

And where might he be?

Who the hell knows?

Death.

I can't sugarcoat it.
This won't be easy.

But I'm here to make the process...
What's the word?

Palatable.

It's what I do.

You'd be hard-pressed to find
anyone with more experience.

I'll bet ever since
you got the news,

you've been walking around
like a zombie, am I right?

Yeah. I thought so.

Just know this.

My number-one priority
is your peace of mind.

I never stop
thinking about it.

So,

let's take this
journey together.

What do you say? Hmm?

- Lieutenant Suzuki died a hero.
-(CAMERAS CLICKING)

In recognition of his heroism,

he has been awarded the Seattle
Police Department Medal of Honor.

(CROWD APPLAUDING)

How many more people might have died had
your husband not waded into a firefight

and dispatched members of a drug
ring responsible for so many deaths?

(CROWD APPLAUDING)

(WHISPERING)

MALE NARRATOR ON TV: With the
German Army focused on Patton

the main force bided its time

waiting for better weather.

(BAND PLAYING ON TV)

Liv.

(SNORING)

-Liv!
-(GASPS)

What, already?

Late night?

Suddenly you're Matlock?

Neighbor of the deceased called the tip
line, left an unintelligible message.

I was gonna run it down.

Any visions yet?

Yeah. I got a vision of you leaving rne the
hell alone, so I can catch some shut-eye.

Fine. I'll handle this solo.

You take care
of that hangover.

Oh, brush the sand
out of your crack and relax.

I'm just busting
your chops, flatfoot.

Turn your hat around, punk.
Show some respect!

What?

Is he crouching behind home
plate at Yankee Stadium?

Captain came down
to Homicide today,

presented Suzuki's widow
with the Medal of Honor.

- He deserved it.
- Did he?

So you and Major are
back together, huh?

- How's that going?
- What? No. We're not together.

We're the opposite of together.
What makes you say that?

Well, you're his alibi
for the Meat Cute murders.

He spent the night
at my place.

Must be how I got the impression
you were back together.

We talked about this.
He was on the couch.

He just had a few sleepless nights after
he got out of the mental hospital.

- He didn't like being alone.
- So at the time of the shooting,

you were in your room,
he was on the couch.

- You're sure he couldn't have snuck out?
-l'm sure.

We talked most of the night, and
he passed the gun residue test.

No one could find him
for 24 hours.

He could've scrubbed his clothes clean.
It just doesn't add up, Liv.

The wound in Suzuki's thigh
looked self-inflicted.

Julien, the guy Major claimed
was murdering his kids,

the one Major said
he shot three times?

Was one of the victims.

The teenager found in the deep
freeze was a Helton Shelter kid.

It's a closed case, isn't it?

Someone was satisfied
with the investigation.

We do love making
one of our own a hero.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

Hello?

Byron Thistlewaite?

Yeah.

I'm Detective Clive Babineaux, and
this is medical examiner Olivia Moore.

You left a message on
the SPD tipster hotline.

Yeah, isn't that hotline
for anonymous tips?

We don't claim it's anonymous.

The implication, though. I
didn't leave my name or number.

- How'd you even find me?
- We sprung for caller ID.

Thought it might come in handy
for solving murders and whatnot.

“T-shirts are passe"?

I don't get it.
You're wearing a T-shirt.

It's meant to be ironic.

It's a joke.

- Good one.
-(LAUGHS)

Your T-shirt's stupid.

That's meant to be literal.

BYRON: (ON RECORDING) Hi, I'm
willing to report an accident.

(STATIC) These punks have been hitting
my neighbor's house with eggs.

And, um...
Yeah, I'm pretty sure...

Something about eggs and
somebody threatening somebody?

Listen, I wanted to do my civic duty,
but I don't wanna get involved.

- Why?
-(TOY SQUEAKING)

This... This kid,

he's, like, the terror
of the neighborhood.

What kid?

Rodney Ricks.

Okay, he's from a couple blocks over.
He's a real thug.

He's a teenager. Not a bear.

Pretend you got a pair
and speak up, son.

The other night, I hear some commotion,
and I look out across the street,

and Rodney and a few of his homies
are egging Wendell's house.

And Wendell comes
charging out and he tases him.

Rodney drops like a rock, and Wendell
just starts kicking the hell out of him.

And finally, when Rodney
gets up, he's shouting,

“I'm gonna bleep you up,
old man."

Where were you standing
when you heard all this?

You could make out what they were
saying all the way from here?

All the shouted bits, yeah.
I had the window open.

You do all these paint by numbers, or
you have a slow nephew or something?

No, I found them at a gallery.

Were they in the garbage?

(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

Sorry. (EXHALES)

I would've been back sooner, but we
got stuck behind an Asian driver.

Hey, Archie Bunker,

-I'm of Asian descent.
- Great.

Explain to your people
how turn signals work.

Mind prepping drawer six
for transfer?

“Body going to Shady Plots.“
New funeral home?

Uh, change of ownership.

Says here the new owner is John Deaux.
That's D-E-A-U-X.

It's a known alias for my least
favorite of our cured zombies.

(HEART BEATING)

Oh, the humanity.

(CHUCKLING)

You see anything you like?

It's so rare the dead
get to choose.

I got one with a breakaway lid

that's a real time-saver for
today's zombie looking to make

that classic hand-shooting-up-
through-the-dirt big entrance.

I don't mind admitting you were an
inspiration behind this venture.

Letting the brains
come to you.

Fortunately my previous enterprise
provided rne enough startup capital

I needed to diversify.

And Seattle's zombie
population feeds off

already-deceased people,
as God intended.

How low must the bar be for me to be
able to say, with some sincerity,

that I am proud of you?

(CHUCKLING)

- Chocolate?
- Rain check.

Oh, forgot.

Taste buds as kaputski
as the rest of you.

Ah... Mmm.

-(MOANING) - Are you eating
that or impregnating it?

I'm curious.

Why?

Why are you still suiting
up for Team Z?

The uniform sucks.

Morale is, let's be honest,
consistently low.

Don't tell me you've actually
developed a taste for brains.

(BLAINE GASPING)

Hold the phone! You dig it.

You get off on being the hero,
don't you?

(IMITATES JIMMY STEWART) Oh, would you...
Would you look at that.

That's a... That's a
crime-solving zombie.

Roger, get in here! She's a...
She's a credit to her species.

Why can't they all
be like her? (LAUGHS)

This isn't by choice.

(IN NORMAL VOICE) So you
gave all the cure to me,

and you can't make more?

(GASPS) That must
stick in your craw.

Did you get a look
at the place?

Did you?

Come on.

Check it out.

Viewing and services
in the chapel there,

refreshments served here.

Embalming and brain-harvesting
in the basement.

It's got great flow,
don't you think?

I've been meaning to ask you.

After our last encounter,

you might recall it as
the night you shot me,

I was watching the coverage of the
gunfight at the Meat Cute corral,

and guess what I didn't see?

Your boyfriend's name
among the deceased.

Now, I'm no medical examiner,
but when I left,

I would've have put dollars to donuts
that Dudley Do-Right was a goner.

Which could only mean
one thing.

Somewhere out there,

Major Lilywhite, the most presciently
named zombie of all time,

-roams the Earth.
- Whitey Shamblemoore begs to differ.

(CHUCKLES) Well, next time
you see your beau,

remind him he owes me
a million dollars

and a whale deli's worth of
imported meat-slicing appliances.

The night of the boat party,
you were selling Utopium.

But it wasn't pure.
It was cut with something.

We need more of it if we're
gonna make more of the cure.

Mmm-hmm.

And why would I want to help?

I'm human.
I've got a thriving business.

I just learned I've been
pre-approved for a Best Buy card.

I've gone legit.

Put my criminal ways
behind me.

We're not sure
your cure is permanent.

(CLEARING THROAT)

The first batch killed the
test rat inside of two days.

And which batch
did you shoot me up with?

The second.

So let me appeal
to your self-interest.

You're likely on borrowed time, and
if we don't get that tainted Utopium,

you may wake up finding yourself with a
hankering for some of the pink stuff.

(CLEARS THROAT)
Shipment just arrived.

Mmm-hmm.

Tell you what, Liv Moore,

I'll make some inquiries about
that special boat-night Utopium.

Inquire like your life
depends on it.

Oh, and you can save your respectable
businessman jiggery-pokery

for someone who might buy it.

Hand to God. Your boyfriend
scared me straight.

I'm a changed man.

You'll see.
I'll earn your trust.

We should go out some night,
bust some criminals' skulls.

-(LAUGHS)
-(DOOR CLOSING)

Gentlemen.

Let's take a look
at this bad boy.

Who's gonna rule Seattle?

We are.

One hundred percent
pure and uncut.

(LAUGHING)

-(CELL PHONE VIBRATING)
-(EXHALE$)

(EXHALING)

I'm gonna come clean
with you, Major.

I'm an emotional eater,
and last night,

I was feeling all
stuffed-crust pepperoni.

I'm your trainer, Bill,
not your priest.

Ready to work?

(BREATHING HEAVILY)

Two, three, four,

-five, six, seven...
-(BILL GRUNTING)

(CELL PHONE VIBRATING)

You're determined.
I'll give you that.

I get it.
You're not talking to me.

Look, I told you.
I just need some time.

This isn't a social call.

And it's not a message you'd
want recorded for posterity.

- Yeah?
- It's Clive.

He's grilling me about
your Meat Cute alibi.

He's like a dog with a bone.
Those five dead henchmen?

He suspects you killed them.

Where've you been?

They brought in that Rodney
Ricks kid who killed Wendell.

He did it?

- You had a vision?
- No!

Good God, Lemon, patience!

That kid screams guilty.
He's wearing makeup,

and his pants are hanging so low,
they look like a bra for his ass.

(SIGHING) Obama.

So, I went to see
your brother this morning.

You did? Why?

I took your favorite police
sketch artist, Jimmy, to see him.

Had Evan describe the man
who hired him at Meat Cute.

This is what
Jimmy came up with.

New I worked with the sketch artist
at the 48th Precinct last month,

described the man I met at Meat
Cute on that decapitation case.

Here's my sketch.

There was a name written in
Suzuki's own blood at Meat Cute.

Blaine.

I think this is our Blaine.

You ever see him?

Maybe with Major?

Nope.

(SLURPING AND BURPING)

I'm warning you, son.

A bunch of good men didn't
die face-down in the muck

so you could paint your face
like a $2 whore.

I think what
she means to say is,

did you or did you not
threaten Mr. Gale?

(SCOFFS) That douche from across the
street went running to the cops, huh?

He tell you the old son
of a bitch tased me?

So, you have motive
and no alibi.

You know who you
should be going after?

- Who?
- Squirrels.

Talk about motive. He hates 'em for
getting into his bird feeders.

We thought it'd be hilarious to toss
bags of sunflower seeds into his yard

every time we went by.

After a while, his place was
just overrun with squirrels.

Then, one day, poof!

They're all dead.
Like, a hundred of them.

He poisoned 'em, stacked 'em up
like firewood, and burned 'em.

Who does that?

Would you mind putting your
foot up on the table'?

You know,
if we were in Baghdad,

this would be like me
flipping you off.

Should I put the other one
up here, too?

Does this look like
your gynecologist's office?

Haven't you heard?
That stuff'll rot your brain.

I think we're too late.

RODNEY: Ah.

BOARD MEMBER ON SPEAKER:
"Max Rager, Minimum Return."

That was the headline
in the Journal yesterday.

I'm sure you saw it.

Yesterday?

Yesterday

I biked up Buck Mountain, sailed
back down in a hang glider.

I had my breakfast,

made love to my companion,

sent her on her way.

Then I took my Asian investors
ballooning in wine country,

I secured a deal which
opened up Vietnam and Laos,

then l jetted back home
where I accepted...

(VIDEO GAME CROWD CHEERING)

...a Chamber of Commerce
innovator award.

Gee, I guess I must've
missed the Journal headline.

Why don't you email it to me?

BOARD MEMBER: No one on the
board doubts your commitment to

being the face of the company.

WOMAN: Since the article detailing how
Max Rager consumers have experienced

manic, violent episodes,

sales have dropped 30%.

And, of course,
there are the lawsuits.

Last year, we did sales of...

Seven point eight.

Eight b-b-billion dollars.

I'm more than the face, and I hope
you and the board don't forget that.

And when Super Max
hits the market, well...

WOMAN: You've been promising us
Super Max for a year, Vaughn.

And can you guarantee Super Max
won't have the same side effects

that plagued Max Rager?

Well, I can guarantee that we will
all be so wealthy, we won't care.

Lighten up, people.
Lighten up.

I am
Mr. Social Responsibility.

Our best and brightest
are on it.

And as always,

your encouragement and advice
are valued and taken to heart.

So, one love,

sayonara,

-hasta pronto.
{HANGS UH

Remind me again why we can't put
all of them into the company plane

and fly it right into
a volcano?

We need their money.

Once Super Max hits shelves,
you'll be untouchable.

Assuming we're not
mid-zombie apocalypse.

That's not gonna happen.

- Oh?
- Our surveillance has paid off.

- We've solved the zombie problem.
- And how's that?

We've located the instrument
of their destruction.

Is that my cue to start
cackling maniacally,

or shall I wait for you
provide the details?

Hi. I'm here for Mr. Addis.

The new trainer.
Yeah, come in.

You know, my dad's not fat,
but his job is killing him.

High stress, and he refuses to
get his blood pressure checked.

I mean, I keep bugging him
to start working out,

but he's a heart attack
waiting to happen.

That's Kyle.

- He won’t notice you unless you're a
zombie he can kill. -(VIRTUAL GUNFIRE)

Hey, Dad! Your trainer's here.

No pressure, but we're counting
on you to save his life.

No pressure.

Hey there.

Is it too soon to start
begging for mercy?

(GRUNTING)

That, uh, chin-up contest
you talked about?

Yeah, it's on. Right now.

You go first.

So, listen, uh...

Look, I know you've not been in
a great head space these days,

but I wanted to talk to you
about the house, generally.

The kitchen, specifically.

The goop in the sink? It's developed
consciousness and opposable thumbs.

So I showed up to train
a new client today,

and he was a zombie.

What, like,
blonde hair, pale skin?

No.

- He was normal-looking.
- So how did you know?

I... Look, I can't explain it,
all right,

but I knew.

My hair stood on end,
my pulse was racing.

Like a wild animal's fear
instinct telling you to run.

Look, I've experienced it
once before.

With Liv.

No, I was in a crowd.

Liv, uh, doesn't seem
to set it off.

Huh...

Because she domesticated you.

Like a lap dog or a pigeon that
would eat crumbs out of your hand.

Why don't I take care
of them dishes?

Hey, what's up, pale beauty?

Dream on, Tupac. Pfft.

Oh, it's like that?

You rang?

So, three days before
Wendell Gale was killed,

he filed an insurance claim.

Someone apparently keyed his car
to the tune of $1,300 in damages.

Rodney Ricks?
Sounds like something

-that kid would do. - I know you
feelin' me, girl, stop playin'.

Yeah, my thoughts, too.

None of Rodney's shoes matched our wafflestomper
print, but he could've ditched 'em.

- You wanna go pay him a visit?
- Hey, snowflake.

You look like you could use a little
color in you, you know what I'm saying?

-(EXHALES)
- Sir.

Unless you wanna
spend the night in a cell

with the Aryan Knights
of the New Confederacy,

you're gonna need to zip it.

Thanks, Clive.
You're one of the good ones.

I'm gonna go get myself a coffee and
try very hard to forget you said that.

What?

Oh, it was a compliment.

(CELL PHONE VIBRATING)

Enjoying your day off?

I think we've discovered
a new side effect of the cure.

- Yeah?
- Well, more than once now,

Major's run into people and he's just
utterly convinced they're zombies.

His heart starts racing,
his hair stands on end.

He's a human zombie detector.

So New Hope has had the cure.
That's why she runs away from me.

My thoughts exactly.

Then that stands to reason that
all of the patients who...

Oh, for God's sake.

Now, you listen here,
young lady.

I have had it
with your shenanigans.

You stubborn,
mean-spirited bastard.

Think I can sell my place, when I'm
living next to this hell hole?

You sleep with one eye open,
Wendell.

-(METAL SCRAPING)
- WENDELL: No, no!

No, not my car!
Get back here, you old hag!

...your sense of entitlement,
your complete lack of manners...

Did they find the guy who did that to
your hair, or is he still at large?

CLIVE: Jimmy. Jimmy.

Hey, never mind her.

There are some bear claws in the
break room. Why don't you take mine?

I'm taking hers, too.

- Oh, you'll lose a hand.
-l'm not scared of you!

What's your deal?

Do you need some aspirin?

Like, some lady aspirin?

- Whoa!
-l'm sorry, it's just...

I had a vision.

It wasn't Rodney
who keyed Wendell's car.

It was Wendell's
sister-in-law, Clara.

She can't sell her house because
Wendell's place is like Little Calcutta.

She told him to
“sleep with one eye open.“

She's in one of those
wheelchair things.

How's she gonna kick
out the jack?

In my vision, she was jogging.

Open up.

I'm here on business. I can hear
you moving around in there.

I was sorry to hear
about your brother.

I wanted to be at the funeral,
but, you know. Things came up.

Look, I need to talk to you about
the night of the boat party.

Someone cut the
Utopium that night.

It was you, right?
You and your twin?

There's a payday. A big one.

For whoever can show me
how it was done.

Don't make me
huff and puff, man.

Don E.

Long time, brother.

I didn't cut it.

But I know who did.

So is there
some kind of finder's fee?

(CHUCKLING)

(ROMANTIC MUSIC PLAYING)

CLARA: Come in!

Oh, watch it, ladies,
it's the po-po.

And what can I do
for you, Officers?

We have reason to believe you
vandalized your brother-in-law's car

a couple of weeks ago,
and then threatened him.

Am I a suspect now?

Ladies, they think I might've
killed Wendell.

But you were with us.

Damn right, I was.

We all heard the scream. We
couldn't figure out what it was.

- You all can vouch that Clara
was with you? - She was.

Sitting right there.

You poor, dear thing.

You're white as a ghost.
And so skinny.

You need to eat something.

- Oh, that's okay.
- Oh, no, go on. Have a bite.

Be a good girl.

WENDELL: That's it.
Be a good girl.

Eat up, you ugly bitch.

Think you can crap
in my yard, do you?

Hello? Anybody home?

Wendell was offering a dog
a rolled-up piece of bologna.

He wanted to punish it
for pooping in his yard.

You think he was
poisoning the dog?

Well, that's what it
looked like.

It was a spaniel.

Like our reluctant
tipster Byron's.

I don't remember a dog.

Precisely.

He had dog toys and all those paintings
of spaniels, but no actual spaniel.

What if Wendell poisoned Byron's
dog, and Byron found out?

Byron crushes Wendell,

then calls in an anonymous tip fingering
the local juvenile delinquent.

Let's pay the man a visit.

(DOORBELL RINGING)

(SIGHING)

- Officers?
- Evening, Mr. Thistlewaite.

- We had a few more...
- Where's your dog, Byron?

Uh...

"Uh. Uh. Uh."

It's a simple question.

Don't stall for time. Don't invent a story.
Produce the dog.

Lana!

Come here, girl.
(CLICKING TONGUE)

Hmm.

(EXHALES)

As we suspected...

You have a dog.

That's just a little game
we play called,

"Does the person
we're questioning have a dog?“

- So why'd you... - Mr. Thistlewaite,
we were just doubling back,

asking a few more questions.

Can you tell us where you were
between the hours of 10:00 and 11:00

on the night
Wendell was killed?

At the Foggy Duck. It's a pub
a couple blocks over.

- There was a football game.
- Do you remember who was playing?

- Arsenal-Chelsea.
- Soccer.

(IMITATES GUNSHOT)

CLIVE: Recognize him?

LIV: ls that Byron?

Heading into the Foggy Duck
an hour before the murder.

He gets in his car and leaves
an hour after the murder.

I looked into it, there was an
Arsenal-Chelsea rebroadcast that night.

So his alibi checks out.
He was busy hating America.

Why does it look like
you swallowed a canary?

Because when I went
to the pub,

I saw that there was
a second exit around the side,

one that can't be seen by
the surveillance camera.

But most importantly,

look what I found
tacked up at the pub.

Judging by the flyers underneath this
one and the ones partially covering it,

I'd guess it's been
up there for about a week.

But we know the dog is alive,
so what does...

What if on the night
of the murder,

Byron sat in this pub
downing pints.

His dog was missing, and he was
sure Wendell was responsible.

He gets enough
liquid courage in him

that he decides to go
have a chat with Wendell.

He finds the old man underneath his
car, loses it, kicks out the jack.

Then, a day or two later,
Lana comes wandering back.

- Well, good luck to us proving it.
- There's the bonus.

Take another look
at the screen, there.

What do you see?

(MOUSE CLICKING)

His shoes. Wafflestompers.

Let's hope they're a match.

I'm gonna need you to step outside
while the officers conduct the search.

Watts, master closet first.

You failed to mention you
misplaced your dog last week.

Was that even relevant?

Well, once we asked
about your dog? Yeah.

I went back and checked out
that Arsenal-Chelsea match.

Right about the time Mr. Gale was murdered,
an Arsenal player headed in a goal.

Which one was he? Which guy?

This what you were
looking for, Detective?

Thanks, Eric. It is, indeed.

Right here, we have a boot
print left in Wendell's blood.

What do you know?
It's a match.

(INHALES DEEPLY)

(SNIFFLES)
I thought he killed her.

He threatened to.
Multiple times.

He said if he caught her in
his yard one more time...

Lana had been missing
a few days,

and I'd searched
the neighborhood.

But in my heart, I knew what
had happened to her.

I had more than a few beers
in me that night.

I know it was you.

(TOOLS RATTLING)

What did you do to my dog?

That's one dog that won't be crapping
in anyone else's yard. (LAUGHS)

He pretty much admitted
to it, to killing her.

-(GRUNTING)
-(MUFFLED SCREAMING)

It was one second.

It was one second of my life
that I can't take back.

(LANA BARKING)

And that's when I heard it.

(sesame)

(LANA WHINING)

I'm so sorry.
I'm gonna have to leave you.

Yes, I am.

A momentary lapse in reason,
and now

Byron will likely spend
his next 20 years in prison.

Well, you did your job. People don't
get to kill each other willy-nilly.

We're cremating Wendell?

We couldn't find
any next of kin?

We found them. They just weren't
interested in claiming his body.

LIV: What do you have to say
for yourself, Wendell?

Life dealt you a lousy hand,
so you just folded tent,

decided it was easier to be
a rotten bastard.

That's not gonna be me.

I'm going down swinging.

Zombies don't
deserve our mercy, so just

put that thought
out of your head.

(EXHALES) HOW to explain?

I love submarine movies.

Big fan.

And there's always
this moment...

It's the moment where
the sub is torpedoed,

and the compartment
is flooding,

and the captain's gotta give
the order to "seal it up,"

even though he knows that there
are men still alive in there.

Cut to the sailor
who receives that order,

tears in his eyes,

closing that hatch
on his comrades.

The man that closes that
hatch is a hero, isn't he?

But we are both doing
what needs to be done.

We are saving lives.

- There are zombies living among us.
-(CLATTERING)

And they are feasting
on human brains.

Where do they get
these brains? Who knows?

Ahhh!

But don't you think it's a
good idea to put an end to it?

Sure, they look like us,
they sound like us,

but if you think of them as

brain-eating atomic bombs,
you'll sleep like a baby.

You've got the wrong
man for the job.

Oh, I have the only man
for the job.

RAVI ON RECORDING: More than once
now, Major's run into people

and he's just utterly
convinced they're zombies.

His heart starts racing,
his hair stands on end.

He's a human zombie detector.

See?

You're singularly qualified.

Now, we've learned a few
things about zombies.

Weird as it sounds, they (LAUGHS)
can't get enough of spicy food.

And in order to blend in, they require
pretty regular tanning and hair dyeing.

Our tech boys have
developed an algorithm

which scans credit card statements for
charges which fit this zombie profile.

Those 322 people are
suspected zombies.

Your mission, determine which
ones are the real deal

(WHISPERING)
and close that hatch on them.

Kill them?

Yes.

After all...

Aren't you the greatest
zombie killer alive?

You forgot your list.

-I'm not doing this.
-(BEEPS)

LIV ON RECORDING: It's Clive. He's
grilling me about your Meat Cute alibi.

He's like a dog with a bone.
Those five dead henchmen?

He suspects you killed them.

I've got you over a barrel,
big guy.

Five murders, that's a lot
of years in the pokey.

Do what you gotta do.

Major, we are doing
our civic duty here.

We played a big part in
creating this problem.

And we are gonna be very
aggressive in cleaning it up.

We do know of one zombie,

Liv Moore.

We don't have
to start with her,

but we've gotta
start somewhere.

(GRUNTING)

(PANTING)

-(MUSIC PLAYING ON HEADPHONES) - LIV:
When I was 21, it was a very good year.

27? Less great.

Best friend gone.
Love of my life avoiding me.

And my brother and mom still
unwilling to hear me out.

Tomorrow I'll eat a new brain,
get Wendell out of my system.

Maybe someday
I'll be forgiven.

With any luck, someone with
a winning personality

is out there getting
murdered right now.

Whoa. Uncool, Liv.

Get out of my head, Wendell.

-(KNOCKING ON DOOR)
-(TURNS OFF MUSIC)

- Yeah?
- GILDA: Hey, roomie.

Wanna watch the season
premiere of Zombie High?

Not really.

I want to stay in here
feeling sorry for myself,

not listen to IRS
break room gossip.

Sounds great.
I'll be right there.

(SIGHS)

Hmm.

What are those pesky zombies
up to this week?

Death and mayhem.

The ush. (CHUCKLES)

Hey, uh, how was work?

On, my God. (LAUGHS)

You would not believe
the guy we hired.

Super freaking hot.
Like, stupid hot.

Magic Mike hot.

Right on. Are you gonna work
your Gilda magic on him'?

(SIGHS) It's under
serious consideration.

Maybe I'll just toy
with him for a while.

Oh, he doesn't stand a chance.

(GILDA LAUGHS)

No, zombie!

Dumb, dumb zombie.