In another backyard, Liam scoops some water out of the pool while Deedee Pfeiffer (whom, some forum members and I agree, reminds us of a poor man's Cameron Diaz) and the guy who played Gay Matt on Melrose Place look on. Poor Doug Savant -- not only is he immediately known to an entire generation of TV-watchers as Gay Matt, but he's got this habit of getting cast in shows where he's the relatively sane one on the block. Between MP, Desperate Housewives and this, he's going to get a rep as a warning sign that you're moving into Crazy Glen Estates. ["Or about to die of an airborne virus." -- Sars] By the way, these two actors are playing the Bradys. While I've been carrying on about Doug Savant's career legacy, we've learned that the HOA bylaws prohibit using chlorine in your pools, and the pool boy's been by this morning to take care of the pool. I bet he has. Brass asks if last night's party was a special occasion, and Mrs. Brady says, "We just had the neighbors over for cocktails." And what looks to be the largest game of strip poker played in Nevada. Mr. Brady adds, "We do it once a month. We all take turns." We establish that Vanessa was wearing a LBD (Little Black Dress) and, according to Mr. Brady, there's no inter-neighbor bickering because "we are a friendly group." Gil then asks, "May we take a look inside your house?" Mrs. Brady leans back so as to take her tank top to the kind of topological extremes not even Catherine is brazen enough to attempt. "Look anywhere you want," she invites Gil. So he gives her a once-over, behind the Bug Man sunglasses. Brass smirks.
"Well, by the way you've cleaned up, Mrs. Brady, I wouldn't even know you'd had a party here," Gil comments. She probably has help. Someone named Alice, maybe? Gil asks, "What kind of party was it?" "A mixer," she responds. Liam is openly goggling, and Gil gives him a look to check the goofy, hormone-addled grin. So he contents himself with checking out the sideboard while Gil wanders into the spacious kitchen. Maybe this is what they mean by adult content -- a frank discussion on the merits of sub-zero fridges and Corian counters. Gil notices that a few shish-kabob skewers are missing from the case. He soon concludes they're probably in the dishwasher, and pops it open to discover a dish rack full of vibrators draining. Mrs. Brady looks mildly chagrined as Gil holds up what looks like an eight-inch purple dildo. He comments, "Well, cleanliness is to godliness." Liam openly guffaws.
In the B-plot, Nicky and Warrick are sitting on the curb, eating the lunches that are presumably the fruits of Marty's largesse. If Marty were paid by the word, he would be raking in the six figures he claims to make. Warrick asks Marty how many cases he works a week, and Marty shoots back, "How many cases you do a week." Warrick and Nicky do between 10-20; Marty replies that he does too. Around a mouthful of sandwich, Nicky asks, "You're trying to tell me you make between three and ten grand a week?" Why, yes. Also, just in case Warrick and Nicky are looking for a little pocket change, Marty's happy to take them on as freelancers. In fact, while some may see a rising crime rate as a problem, he sees it as a franchise market in Arizona. Before Marty can outline his plans to clean up decomposing bodies all over the entire American southwest, along comes the table-saw victim's widow, who is all torqued because the store still isn't clean yet. Marty instantly assumes a generic cracker accent and drawls, "Iht's outta mah hainds, ma'am. Tha lab boys, they hahven't released the sce-yun ye-yut." Back on the curb, Warrick and Nicky exchange looks and shake their heads ruefully. Marty continues sweet-talking the widow -- awfully nice of her to swing by and introduce herself -- and when he comes back, Warrick calls that Marty ought to be ashamed of himself. Marty begs to differ: "The bereaved often find a Southern accent very comforting." Nicky looks put out by this observation. When he turns to look at Warrick, the other man's suddenly very interested in his drink.