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It's eight months after last season ended, and Nucky doing his best to stay out of the spotlight, by working out of Chalky White's new club (Babbette's renovated into The Onyx Club) and living in a hotel far from the boardwalk (far from everything, in fact). He brokers peace with Arnold Rothstein and Joe Masseria (Meyer Lansky and Lucky Luciano are splits now — acrimoniously — but working for the big guys, respectively). Nucky assures the other gangsters that all he wants is peace, sealing it with a handbag full of cash, although Rothstein in particular seems skeptical, and contemplated the possibility that Nucky planned to kill him. Nucky's commitment to laying low is strong enough that when he learns a new bed partner secretly sought him out in the hopes that he can do for her career what he did for Billie's, he gives her the heave-ho (through Eddie, who has recovered). He even seems to be contemplating retirement.
But that doesn't mean trouble's not going to find him (and thank god, really, because I'm not sure if a dozen episodes could be sustained by Nucky Hangs Out At The Onyx All Day). It's not Nucky's fault, though; a booking agent's wife comes on to Dunn Purnsley, using the old-fashioned slip-a-pornographic-doodle-into-a-man's-pocket routine. Dunn's happy to oblige, not so excited when her husband shows up in the room while he's mid-coitus. And he's even less happy when it turns out to be orchestrated by both of them, because they each get turned out by her having boisterous sex with black men. Dunn takes exception in the form of viciously stabbing the booking agent to death —which really complicates things for Chalky and Nucky — but the wife makes herself scarce and still hasn't turned up by the end of the episode, despite efforts to find her.
Other troubles that will surely find their way to Nucky's doorstep: Gillian is addicted to drugs and prostituting herself, using the potential sale of her house as a cover, and suing to get her grandson back from the Sagorskys. She perks up when Ron Livingston shows up as a potential buyer but likely renter, while he works to help expand the Piggly-Wiggly chain.
Al Capone, now with two brothers busting his balls, is chafing under Johnny Torrio, and annoyed when a young newspaper writer spells his name wrong. Agent Sawicki has a new partner, one who presents himself as a nervous greenhorn but who intentionally lets Stan get killed by a bootlegger's booby trap (and then takes the bootlegger out himself). Eli's son Willie isn't happy at college and wants in on his father's business. Nucky urges Willie to be patient, since he's got plans for the accounting education his nephew is getting.
Oh, and Richard Harrow is murdering his way across the country to get back home to his sister Emma, who appears happy to see him. But that might as well be its own show right now.
Nowhere to be found, yet — Margaret and Van Alden. And with Jeffrey Wright featuring so prominently in teasers, I was surprised when he hadn't turned up by the end of the episode.
Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. He's up all night to get Nucky. Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at danieljdaniel@gmail.com.
Want more? The full recap starts right below!There's some new names in the opening credits, some of which I knew were going to be there (Jeffrey Wright) and others I didn’t (Ron Livingston). As I get older, I start to understand why old people have a hard time remembering the names of actors. It’s not just difficulty adding new names every year to your internal IMDb, but keeping track of the ones that are in there and maybe falling into disuse. Because I saw "Ron Livingston" and, I swear to God, thought of Ron Perlman. And then I thought of Ron Eldard, for crying out loud. And it took me a few minutes to remember just who Ron Livingston is.
The Season 4 premiere episode begins with a fade up on a dilapidated gas station/diner in the middle of the night. The only two customers at the counter needing to rouse the sleepy ol’ bartender who want him to change the radio station channel to something that’s playing a little more of the hip new sounds of whatever was hip and new in 1924. But that’s the only station they get here in what turns out to be — after a drawn-out, drawling conversation — Warsaw, Indiana. It apparently has the second-longest contiguous brick wall in the world, and don’t think the local chamber of commerce wasn’t flooded with calls Monday morning to find out if that were still true or if it ever was.
The old bartender doesn’t seem to get that one of the two men — who are traveling together — is only pretending to be interested (the other guy can’t even be bothered), but he can’t help but notice the gun he’s got under his coat as he reaches for his wallet to pay the check.
Outside in the swirling snow, his buddy upbraids him for putting down a “sawbuck” on a two-dollar tab, but the first guy crows about the easy money they’ve made. “I thought we were laying low,” says Cheap Tip. The car won’t start, and Cheap Tip — apparently the junior in the partnership — gets out to look under the hood. Sawbuck waits in the car and yells for him to “jiggle the plugs or something,” but when there’s no response to his suggestion within like, five seconds, he gets out of the car and finds his partner lying awkwardly on the wheel well, with his throat slashed.
He’s even more surprised to find himself staring down the barrel of Richard Harrow’s gun, but it’s not an emotion that he’s going to have to feel for very long before departing this world via bullet to the head. Harrows pats down Sawbuck’s jacket and pulls out an envelope with an Old Mission Title Insurance stamp in the return address corner, and melts away into the night. Richard Harrow: 1920s Ninja!
The clickety-clack of tap dancing takes us from the opening scene to the : a pair of dancing men on the day-lit stage of an empty club. In front of Chalky White is Dunn Purnsley, a bored looking woman smoking and the talent agent currently bragging about discovering the two dancers in a juke joint in Louisville and bringing them along. Chalky calls them "rough" but the booking agent says a year from now you won’t be able to get a seat to see them. "He’s selling us hard, huh?" Chalky says to Dunn, while the woman scribbles away at something, and Dunn good-naturedly suggests checking the mule’s teeth. The woman’s indifferent agreement to her husband’s assertion that he doesn’t have to sell anything because he represents the best speaks volumes, and she gets much more interested in waggling her drink at Dunn and asking him to freshen up her New York Sour. "Mix you up the Jersey version," says Dunn.
He leaves, and the booking agent clears his throat and checks his watch. It does not go unnoticed — it was not supposed to go unnoticed — by Chalky, who wonders if the booking agent is carpet bagging him with his offer of a grand apiece for two weeks, "and we’ll see what happens after."
Chalky says he wants Fletcher Henderson up there. "Who doesn’t? But Smack’s in New York!”"is the response, because we can’t get through a scene without being sent to Google to learn about some period detail and some real person.
Chalky considers the offer and then calls out to the two dancers to see if they’ve broken a sweat yet. They haven’t. "Elton, shake your lazy rump!" says one, which is-- I believe -- a reference to the Beastie Boys, a New York trio of the day. The dancers quicken their pace and swing their arms. So Chalky and the agent are enthralled as Dunn heads back with the refreshed drink, but the woman catches his eye long before he gets to the table and motions for him to check his jacket pocket. He finds a cocktail napkin with a doodle showing a happy naked woman and a man with a boner. There is also a question mark above it. Wow, Draw Something was pretty racy in the 1920s! He looks up, while she gauges his reaction. "Apparently intrigued" about covers it. It’s certainly not "unreceptive."
Upstairs now, where Nucky is in a darkened room, is able to look down at the club below. Eddie comes hobbling in with a cane. He survived, apparently, but not without lasting effects. "All have arrived," he tells Nucky, bringing him his jacket. Nucky tries to put it on himself, but Eddie won’t hear of it. "It’s easy enough to do," protests Nucky, but that just leaves an opening for Eddie to say, "Then I vill do it." If Nucky was really concerned about overworking poor Eddie, he could probably just let the poor bastard retire.
"Where’s he sitting"” Nucky asks, while Eddie de-lints him. "Vere you vanted him," says Eddie, who then opens the door for Nucky into a sitting room where Eli brings him a drink. Sitting around the room are Joe Masseria, Lucky Luciano, Meyer Lansky, and Tonino Sandrelli. Standing behind Lansky is Arnold Rothstein. Nucky crosses the room to shake Masseria’s hand, since they’ve never actually met. Masseria looks like Nucky just took a dump on the carpet, and Luciano says, in Italian, "You should shake it." Masseria does not, and Nucky wants to know if Masseria speaks English. "He’s not in the mood," says Luciano. So this is off to a good start. Moving on, then!
Nucky turns to Eli, who says, "We want to settle things." I think you do, too. Nucky just wants peace. He’s got his territory — south to Cape May, north to Asbury Park, west to Trenton — and the casino, the numbers, and the wire. And that’s all he wants.
The other gangsters have a little to say about what the war cost them — Rothstein almost in federal court, Masseria’s men gunned down — but Nucky insists that he only returned trouble that was brought to his doorstep, just like he’d expect any of them to do. Masseria’s the one who suggests that more than words are needed here, so in comes the handbag of money. The other gangsters have a little difficulty accepting Nucky’s entreaties that he just wants peace: to see a Broadway show, go shopping or out for dinner without having to look over his shoulder. And maybe they in turn enjoy the beach here? "Not especially," says Rothstein, looking ready to explode. Yeah, Nucky, that’s not a fair trade. Nucky repeats that he just wants peace, and Rothstein stiffly says where Nucky eats or shops is of no concern of him. "This ends that," agrees Masseria, pointing to the money. So that’s out of the way. Time for some catching up!
Masseria and Rothstein play Who Got the Better Up And Comer, with Rothstein asking Luciano how’s he doing — doing well, thanks for "axing" — and patting Lansky’s shoulder. Lucky and Meyer don’t appear to be on speaking terms. Everyone but Rothstein leaves: "All of man’s troubles come from his inability to sit quietly in a room by himself," he says, quoting Pascal. He’s still a little skeptical that that’s what Nucky’s doing now, or able to do Nucky sips his whisky and says Rothstein’s expected at the table — no limit. That’s probably the best way to make A.R. happy, and as he practically skips merrily out of the room, he says he ran the odds of Nucky trying to kill him here, coming up with 14-1 against. I guess he couldn’t set the odds too much higher, or that’d be an incentive to off him. Although I guess in that case he wouldn’t have to pay up. He smiles, Nucky nods, A.R. leaves. Nucky crosses the floor to the window to watch the rehearsing dancing girls below, standing quietly in a room by himself.
In a courtroom, Gillian Dharmody quietly lays out the case for why she should have Tommy back. Her case doesn’t really consist of much more than, "I’m his grandmother." The Sagorskys sit on the other side of the courtroom, of course, as Gillian — represented by good ol’ Leander Cephas Whitlock, in all his muttonchopped glory — explains she’s selling her home to take up in a more modest place so she can bring Tommy up in the safety and comfort he deserves. Just to be safe she might tell the judge that her new residence won’t be a whorehouse where his life was threatened before a man with half a face laid waste to a dozen-odd men. But I’m not a lawyer.
She does thank the Sagorskys for looking after him for the past eight months, though, so that’s nice. Julia seethes and glares. "My grandson belongs with me. It’s time he came home," says Gillian. Julia, in a tone of voice best described as "Are you fucking kidding me?" says that Tommy was being raised in a "cathouse" which almost makes it sound kind of fun. Sadly, her dad and her lawyer both want her to shut up about that. God forbid they win the case. The judge would like to talk about what went down eight months ago. He doesn’t appear to know exactly what happened, and under what circumstances brought Tommy to the Sagorsky house. Gillian sure as hell isn’t going to say, and Julia doesn’t seem comfortable explaining it either.
Eli’s barreling along in a car driven by his son Willie, who I guess has been recast this season, but honestly if no one had told me I wouldn’t have noticed. They manage to arrive alive — despite Willie’s less than elegant wheelwork — at the distillery, Mickey Doyle’s outside, and Willie’s all, "Who’s that?" and gets a vague, "Someone who works for us," in return. I mean, it’s not like there’s any love lost between the two of them. If that means Doyle is too busy scowling at Eli to unleash one of his spine-compacting giggles, that’s fine by me.
Willie asks a few more questions about the running of the distillery, but Eli, looking at his son, wants to talk about something else. "I smell smoke," he says. Willie unwisely tries the "he who smelt it dealt it" routine, and that doesn’t work, and then blatantly makes up a story about his friend who smokes and borrowed Willie’s coat. "He borrows coats? What is he, an orphan?" says Eli, not fooled. Then he makes his son button up his coat, because taking him to his uncle’s illegal bootlegging operation is one thing, but bringing him home with the sniffles is quite another. You can’t blame Willie for feeling a little resentful that his dad treats him like a kid.
Mickey and Eli head into the distillery office, where Agent Sawicki is waiting with rookie Agent Warren Knox. Eli’s feeling a little agitated that he needs to be there at all — not to mention that there’s too many people around for his liking, especially when an angry bootlegger pokes his head in, anxious to settle up with Doyle. "I’m involved in this now, Elmer!" squeaks Doyle. Oh, yeah, there’s that voice. Knox leaves to get acquainted with Elmer Borst the Angry Bootlegger. "Guess my time’s not worth anything!" he grumbles.
Once it’s just Stan, Mickey and Eli, it turns out Stan’s shaking Eli down for a little more money for taking care of problems above and beyond. Eli grumbles, but pays up.
Meanwhile, Knox and Elmer are becoming fast friends. Elmer wouldn’t mind a little more law-enforcement help, because "piney bastards keep robbing my garage." Knox says they don’t really do auto theft. Elmer asks, "Don’t you catch bootleggers?" "Not for other bootleggers," says Knox earnestly, and amusingly.
At any rate, Borst is already taking matters into his own hands, and brags about the surprise he’s got rigged up — involving a pulley and a shotgun — at the back door for the time someone tries to rip him off. Knox, who gets a glimpse of Sawicki’s payoff, seems about to explain how ill-advised it is to: a) do that, and probably b) tell a federal agent about it. But Sawicki calls him back to the office and announces that their inspection is completed.
The old-timey music kicks in as we go over to Cicero, Illinois, where Al Capone greets a truckload of women to the "Cicero Quilting Society." He’s genial for all of about five seconds before screaming at them to "Hoof it!" and all I can imagine is that Cicero apparently takes its quilting pretty fucking seriously. Capone’s brother — we haven’t seen him yet, I don’t believe — gets to play a little good cop to his brother’s bad gangster, assuring the women that their makeup and handbags that got left behind will be sent for. The women are hustled into the nearby hotel, up the stairs into a room with fat old white guys in fezzes. (Shriners, or Elks, or Water Buffalo, or whatever). There are already a couple of women there in various states of undress. "Same ol’ boobs and boozehounds," says one of the newcomers. Did you know Boobs ‘N Boozehounds was originally supposed to be the name of the series?
"We got shipped over from The Deuces for this?" complains one, and Al, ever the gentleman, points out that the ceiling’s the same, which is all they’re going to be looking at. Got that, ladies? This is a missionary-position-only place!
A pissed-off Johnny Torrio pokes his head out from an adjacent room and calls Al over. Al jokingly tells his other new sidekick, Ralphie, that whatever it is, they’ll blame it on him. In the office, Torrio’s pissed about something in the paper -- not about Woodrow Wilson’s death, Al suggests, tone-deaf to his boss’s demeanor -- but about being mentioned in the local paper. "The idea was we don’t have these problems," says Torrio, but Capone dismisses the reporter as one of those "Bolshie" types, and no one cares what they think. Torrio’s all, "I might!" One of Capone’s brothers, Ralphie -- played by Domenick Lombardozzi, "Herc" from The Wire -- pretends he can read so we can see the headline: "Democrats To Run Reform Ticket - Proclaim Criminal Element Shall Not Prevail." I can see why they’re worried… no politician has ever pledged to get tough on crime.
Besides, the other guy in the room is "Jumpin" Joe Klenah, who I take it is their candidate, all sewn up. And we learn that some of the needlework was done by throwing Klenah down the stairs, which he — pretending to be jovial but clearly scared out of his mind — chalks up to high spirits, prompting a hug from Al Capone, which would make me tense too.
Ralphie reads aloud about Torrio extending his fingers into gambling, prostitution and bootlegging with "the cheerful assistance of our Cicero boosters." That would be Klenah, here. But there’s more! He exerts control at the Hawthorne Inn with the rough justice of his factotum Alphonse "Capone." (Not that any character Lombardozzi will ever play will be able to read a word like "factotum" without help.) Ralphie and Frankie find the misspelling much more amusing than Al, who hits the roof.
Back at the Onyx Club, a stone-faced Nucky listens to Eddie Cantor describe his newest act, songs and jokes… except it’s in movie form. Well, a talkie, anyway. Nucky’s completely baffled by the concept, but not so much that he’s not intrigued, especially when explained by Cantor’s new partner, a woman who jokes that her gynecologist’s motto is "Be Prepared," taking the softball setup of Cantor referring to the Scouts. Cantor wants to split for a rehearsal, but Nucky assures him he’ll get her to the church on time. He’s not ready to leave the company of the dame who casually tosses out jokes to her overworked lady parts, that’s for sure.
Eddie leaves, and the woman gazes around the club, impressed that Nucky owns it. Nucky tells her Chalky White owns it, and says, "I just like the atmosphere." She asks if he knows Owney Madden, who owns the Cotton Club, and Nucky’s surprised to hear that she goes to Harlem. "Only when someone takes me," she purrs. Nucky says he expects that happens a lot. She confesses Eddie didn’t want her to meet Nucky, since he’s apparently dangerous, and she flicks her eyebrows at him, wondering if something bad will happen to her if she stays. Well, I guess it depends on what side of the ledger you place "having sex with Nucky Thompson."
Oh, the Artemis Club. What have they done with you? Oh, right. Gillian’s showing a man around the empty place, touting its features, such as the twelve bathrooms. "Lot of upkeep," says the man, noncommittally. Gillian says it was built during the Great Age, and is waiting for the right man to bring it back to life. You don’t need to be a genius to get the "Are you still talking about the house?" vibe here. Gillian sighs, and gazes at the window, describing the potential for the place, clearly sad about what she never had here: "Cotillions with full orchestras. Ermine muffs on winter nights." Well, that last one, in a manner of speaking… The potential buyer tells her she’s "quite the scene-painter," and she says she’s just describing the possibilities.
Leaving the man to think about it for a moment, Gillian goes into another room with minimal furnishings — and prepares a syringe of heroin, for an arm that clearly hasn’t been a stranger to it since Gyp Rosetti shot her up. It’s a noticeably mellower Gillian who returns to the room where the prospective buyer is looking out the window, and asks him what the verdict is. He figures he has to ask how much. "It’s not really the amount, is it? It’s what you get for it," she says. It’s still a number, he tells her, and the conversation is taking a decidedly ominous tone. He turns to face her. "Thirty," she says. And in case you’re thinking, "Yeah, thirty thousand is probably about right in old-timey money," he looks her up and down and nods, and she adds, "If you want me to put it in my mouth, it’s another ten." Not that I’m comparison shopping, but that sounds like an awful lot for a hummer. But I guess you pay for what you get, right?
Elsewhere, an assistant named Florence knocks the door of the darkened Old Mission Title and Insurance office of a Mr. Warner to ask if he needs anything else. We don’t see Mr. Warner, but we can hear the agitation in his voice as he tells her to have a good evening. She reminds him that she put the present on his desk, and all he has to do is sign the card. She says goodnight, and leaves, not getting a response.
Over at Warner’s desk, which is lit by a single desk lamp. He nervously pats the box and says he’s pretty sure they’re roller skates. No response from whoever it is he’s talking to, like we don’t know. "You have children?" asks Warner, still to no response. LOOK WE KNOW IT’S RICHARD HARROW. Warner then starts explaining he’s just a middleman who takes orders from Milwaukee and doesn’t ask questions. "I call a number, they do the rest. If someone gets hurt, that’s not my…"
He trails off, starting to cry. He offers up the $5,000 in the office safe for WHOEVER THIS IS to just walk away, assuming WHOEVER THIS IS doing it for money. Still no response, and Warner starts to get up when we see Harrow sitting in front of Warner’s desk, raising his gun. Warner really starts to sob. "You don’t know me! You don’t know anything about me!" he blubbers. Not in a talk-show you’re-not-the-boss-of-me way. "I know you’re gonna die," croaks Harrow. Warner gets permission to at least sign the card, and then as Harrow gets up and approaches the desk, Warner offers him what he’s written: the address of the guy who runs things. Harrow shoots Warner in the cheek, good Christ. Warner manages to croak out a fishy-mouthed "why," and Harrow shoots him in the head, and picks up the card.
Hey, family dinner at Eli’s! Nucky’s there, watching as a standing, embarrassed Willie sings the Temple University fight song, much to the amusement of his siblings and the beaming pride of his parents. He finishes, everyone applauds, and one of the little brothers, impressed, says, "Then you go beat people up?" Heh. Nucky explains that they sing it at football games.
Eli wants to know how often Willie goes to those. Willie mutters that it’s once in a while, "with the fellas," hoping to head off his dad, who is one of those "you study every waking moment"-type of fathers. Nucky points out Willie got an A in accounting, and Willie has to admit it was in "geography of commerce." June tries to lighten things up by asking who the “fellas” are, and Willie rattles off a list of hilarious ‘20s-style nicknames. Why, there’s Flitch! And Dobby! And Tip! And Henry, you know, the Smoking Jacket-Borrowing Orphan, but everybody just calls him "Bucket"! "These are boys, or ponies?" asks Eli, to snickers. But June wants to know if they’re “smokers” and Willie first says he doesn’t know, then says they’re not, and then points out his own dad is like a chimney. Willie really needs to step up his game when it comes to lying to his parents. Eli’s pissed that Willie seems to have forgotten — now that he’s "so popular" — that that’s his mother he’s talking to. Willie gets up and walks over to his mother to say he loves her and to give her a kiss.
It's a good time for Nucky to take his leave, before the petty family squabblings get more uncomfortable. Eli says he’ll call Nucky later. Willie, though, follows his uncle outside. Nucky tells him to put a coat on, and I have to say the Thompson brothers are rather big on season-appropriate outerwear. Willie says his mother’s checking it for tobacco stains. It’s entirely possible he’s not kidding.
Willie gripes about how he should have stayed in Philadelphia for the break, because all his dad does is tell him what not to do. Nucky’s like, "Yeah, that’s what fathers are supposed to do", but Willie would rather Eli tell him about the business. "Which business is that?" asks Nucky carefully, and Willie’s all, "ours."
Nucky cocks his head and explains to him that there’s what he does, what Willie’s father helps him with, and it’s not anything for Willie to worry about. Not unless Nucky’s on the run from people trying to kill him, I guess? Nucky says he hasn’t forgotten Willie’s help, but what he needs to do now is get the degree. "We’re all counting on it," Nucky says. Pretty reasonable to assume Nucky’s not talking in a general "it would be good for your family" kind of way, either. Nucky tells his nephew to keep getting A’s, and he can always talk to Nucky if he wants to get something off his chest.
He turns to go, and Willie’s all, "I do smoke." Nucky knows, adding, "I went to college for a year. It’s where I picked up all my bad habits." Well, me too, but I managed not to turn public urination into a career.
Capone’s at home, still stewing about the misspelling of his name, as he and his brothers retire to the living room for some post-dinner drinks. Ralphie tries to tell his brother that it was probably just an honest mistake, that the "pilgrim" reporter probably doesn’t have any idea how to spell foreign names. It’s not like Al thinks the kid did it on purpose, but he got Torrio’s name right, and Ralphie says people know Johnny Torrio. And that’s Al’s point. Frank tries to reason with Al by pointing out that if people know Torrio, then Torrio will get the heat, but Al’s bristling because he was there first, and brought his brothers out, because that’s what a brother does. "I bought this house that we’re living in, and I run the Inn, and the Ship, and that’s not nothing. I’m not nothing. I’m nobody’s fatotus." Frank and Ralph can’t help smirking at Al’s mispronunciation.
And then Frank winds his brother up by calling him "Snorky," which apparently was a real nickname used by Al Capone’s closest friends, and tells him he’s a "very special boy." Then the brothers are wrestling on the ground, much to the dismay of the womenfolk, who start scurrying around and speaking agitated Italian.
Here’s Dunn Pursely, pouring a couple of drinks in a hotel room, with the booking agent’s wife, Alma Pastor, on the bed, saying she doesn’t have time for that, because she has to be back in forty minutes. "I couldn’t have been clearer," she says. Dunn wordlessly hands her the drink anyway, and she downs it all in one shot.
She’s not so pressed for time that she can’t snidely ask if this is supposed to be considered a nice hotel in this part of town. "It’s disgusting," she says, then asks for another drink. Dunn gets it, while Alma says Dunn’s boss should be careful, because her husband steals from the acts and from the owners. "He’s a nasty little thief," she says. "He’s your husband," points out Dunn, who really might not want, right now, to express disapproval with the way this particular woman chooses to treat her wedding vows. She says she likes to say bad things about him, going for a "Ain’t I bad girl who needs to be disciplined?"- kinda thing. Dunn’s not that interested in that, and wants to get straight to business. "For someone in a hurry, you talk a lot," he says. Agreed! He unbuckles his pants, she pulls off her dress, and he gets to work, hoisting up her legs and climbing onto the bed. She warns him not to touch her hair.
There is much grunting and moaning. Dunn grabs the headboard and really plows the appreciative Alma, who has a mouth a porn star could take lessons from. She orders him to "swirl that cock," and Dunn obliges. The headboard bangs hard for a few moments, until an agreeable "Hi!" from the corner has Dunn pulling back (and out) and yelling, "Motherfucker!" in surprise. The husband’s in the corner, sitting down, expressing a theatrical shock that suggests he’s not, in fact, all that surprised. He wants to know what’s going on here. Apart from the cock-swirling, you mean? Alma immediately goes for the "he threatened me" defense, and Dunn urgently insists that she’s lying, but he’s silenced by Dickie waving a gun around. Dickie tells him to sit down, and doesn’t even let Dunn pull his pants up first. Dunn sits, and Dickie asks what happened.
Alma says she got in Dunn’s car while Dickie was going over the contracts, and Dunn threatened her with a straight razor and drove her "to the Negro part of town," as Dickie puts it.
Dickie doesn’t much like Dunn interrupting to try to tell his side of the story, or his calling him Dickie. "We’re not on a first-name basis. We’re not friends. You’re fucking my wife." Dickie then goes on at length about what a friend he is to the black man. You know, "you people." He puts money in their pockets and eats their food and he loves the music, and all that. "But in the end, you know what always happens? You act like the fucking niggers that you are."
"Isn’t that right?" he asks. You can see some of the fear in Dunn’s face passing into confusion and hardening into anger. Dickie walks closer and lifts the gun to Dunn’s forehead. “Isn’t it?" Dunn growls a yes. "Yes, what?" asks Dickie. "Yes, boss," says Dunn, not taking his eyes off Dickie. At this point, we know one of these two men will be dead soon. Hell, we know which one, too.
Then Dickie steps back, and jerks his head towards his wife. "Go on. Act like a nigger. She’s waiting." Dunn looks at Alma, who, tellingly, is not in the least surprised, and she smiles at him, dropping the sheets she’d used to cover herself up. Dunn, disgusted, looks back at Dickie, who promises to put his brains on the wall otherwise.
Dunn stands up, pulls his pants back down (at Dickie’s behest). "It’s all just some fun," Alma tells him. Dunn grabs her legs and yanks her towards him, and gets back on the bed. Jesus, Dickie’s already got his hand down his own pants. "There’s no changing you people," he says, equal parts disgusted and horny, and Dunn doesn’t take very long before he’s up, smashing the liquor bottle across Dickie’s head and then stabbing him viciously with the broken neck, Alma screaming. I lost count at fifty stabs. I’m exaggerating, but not by much. He stabs Dickie so much that by the time he turns back to the bed, Alma’s gone, the curtains blowing in the wind of the open window. Dunn’s face is a mask of fury and shame, suggesting that Alma saved her own life — at least temporarily — by getting the hell out of there.
Meanwhile, agents Sawicki and Knox are staking out an expected drop-off that’s twenty minutes late, according to a growingly frustrated Stan. Knox says maybe it’s because criminals aren’t very punctual that they’re not "productive members of society," but Stan thinks maybe Knox’s informant was just lying to him. "He gave a strong impression of sincerity," says Knox, while not disagreeing. Knox says he wants to get an arrest or two under his belt, sounding like he’s feeling Sawicki out a bit as he suggests that that would be a good way to ensure "Supervisor Elliot" stays off their case.
Sawicki doesn’t take that bait, but is instead disgusted to discover that the drink he just sipped from is tea; he got Knox’s order by mistake. Speaking as someone who drinks tea, I take grave exception to the implication that this marks Knox out as a weirdo! They switch drinks — Knox promising he hasn’t touched what was supposed to be Sawicki’s — and sip. Not in silence, because Knox won’t shut up. He starts talking about that farmer Elmer at the distillery. "Roly-poly Otis," Sawicki calls him, because "they’re all Otis to me." Anyway, Knox explains that "Otis" has all kinds of liquor in his garage, and wanted them to keep tabs on it.
Now Sawicki is intrigued, both because Borst was talking to Knox, and by the apparently huge bankroll he had. According to Knox, who clearly has a little more guile than he appears, is golly-goshing the idea that Borst asked a couple of Treasury agents to guard his stash. Think about that, huh? says Knox. Sawicki already is.
Back over at the hotel, Chalky is mildly chewing out Dunn, Dickie’s slumped corpse covered in a blood-soaked sheet. "I signed contracts with that man. He connected in New York," points out Chalky, who planned to work those connections to make them himself. And now Dunn has to go and crap all over it for "fifteen minutes of jelly." It would probably only make Chalky angrier if Dunn pointed out that it wasn’t even near fifteen minutes’ worth, so Dunn stays silent. Chalky asks what Dunn’s got to say for himself. “She the devil, that’s all,” mutters Dunn, and Chalky angrily reminds him that it wasn’t the devil-woman who carved up Dickie’s neck.
There’s a knock at the door. Chalky shoots one last glare at Dunn, and then goes to let in Eli and Nucky. Eli crouches by the corpse and pulls the sheet off. Nucky recoils, "Jesus. His head’s practically off." Dunn assures them he earned it. Nucky lets Dunn know he’s not at all interested in his side of it just yet. Chalky tells Nucky it was Dickie Pastor, a booking agent who worked for Owney Madden. Nucky must be sick of hearing about this Owney Madden! As for the girl, she climbed out the window, Dunn says. "I guess you were too busy," says Nucky. Nice to see his sarcasm isn’t lying low.
Eli, still the lawman, wants to know who saw them come in. The nightman did, says Chalky, but he couldn’t say who else. Nucky tells Eli to slip him out the back way. "I have a place," Eli quietly assures him. Yes, I suppose you do, Eli. They gotta find the girl too, Chalky reminds them. Can’t be too far: "No coat, no shoes, no money." And then, Nucky asks? "Take care of it," says Chalky. Nucky tells him to make sure people around here stay quiet, and leaves, Eli staying behind. "That on you," Chalky says to Dunn.
Dawn’s just about ready to break, with Dunn hauling Dickie’s body over some scrub land, Chalky and Eli stone-cold chillin’ in the car and having fun at Dunn’s expense. They make him come back to close the door. "Don’t slam it!" Eli tells him. "There’s a shoe right there!" Chalky calls after him, adding for him not to just chuck it away. Dunn hauls the body in to the hole that I presume he had to dig.
Oh, good! Looks like Gillian’s on snort-able drugs too! She wipes her nose clean, looking at her reflection in the mirror. (As little as possible, is my guess, but I might be reading too much into it). Then she goes back into the bedroom, and asks another gentleman caller, just as she did the last one, "What’s the verdict?"
This is Ron Livingston, and he tells her she’s asking a lot. She promises it’s worth it, though, and he doesn’t doubt it. It would appear that this time they are talking just about the house, although it threatens to go a different way when Gillian asks if there’s anything she can do to persuade him. Livingstone says it’s more than her really needs, and — not that it’s any of his business or anything — but she doesn’t appear to actually want to sell. She says she does, and he tells her he knows what it’s like to find the courage to leave something that’s a part of you.
Anyway, he only needs something for a few months. We learn his name is Roy Philips, and Gillian asks what brings him to town. Turns out he works for the Piggly Wiggly supermarket chain, which is expanding out this way, and he’s here to set it up. You know, I’d really like to have been a fly on the wall when the founders of that store chose the name.
Gillian, fishing around, notes it must be hard on his wife, and Philips is all, "Remember when I talked about leaving things behind earlier? That’s what I meant," and then he references the cotillions and ermine muffs, so I guess Gillian’s got her spiel down pat. Probably helps to have it memorized if you’re going to be high all the time. He tells her they would suit him well. That gets through Gillian’s coke haze, and she asks if he really thinks so. He does, but he’s a dreamer, you see. At some point during this scene, I hope my eyes will stop rolling.
Anyway, he’s got an appointment to see another place in Bungalow Park. "You don’t want to live there," she says, and he groans. "Can’t trust a realtor," he says. He turns to go, and turns back, admits to being a bit "at sea." He could use a "knowledgeable companion", to which a delighted Gillian says, "I’m certainly that." Rent is thirty dollars a month, Philips. Forty if you want her to put it in her mouth.
Over to the offices of the Cicero Daily Tribune now, where get a classic close-up of a page being typed. Something to do with working girls! And "working girls" is in quotes! Hold the front page, sweetheart, he’s cooking up a corker here! Capones Al and Frank stroll in. Al’s not in a big rush. "Factotum," he says to the wary reporter. Al looked it up: it’s a servant, someone who does whatever you tell him to do.
Al asks the bespectacled reporter how old he is — he’s twenty-two. "Making a name for yourself, huh?" Gotta hand it to the young idiot, who bravely (stupidly? ) says he’s just telling the truth. Capone’s all, "Oh, the truth, huh?" and he grabs the paper and writes on it, then hands it to the young Bolshie and tells him to read it, one letter at a time. It is, of course, the correct spelling of Capone. "Now you know," says Al, who then gives the kid a couple swats on the back of the head, and he and Frank leave.
Over at The Onyx, a packed house -- I don’t need to tell you the audience is all white -- listens to the announcer intone about how "it’s the darkest gems that shine most bright." The curtains pull back and the Onyx girls step out, wearing robes, marching slowly down the steps to slow jazz.
The tempo picks up, the robes are doffed, and the girls start shaking their tails in sequined gold fringe. Nucky’s date -- the one with the weary gynecologist -- watches through the dancing as Nucky confers with Dunn and Chalky. Nucky’s chagrined that Dunn somehow hasn’t been able to find a half-naked white girl in the black part of town. "Maybe she froze in a doorway somewhere, or took off to New York," says Dunn, not int the mood. Nucky, just as unimpressed, says Dunn missed his calling as a detective, and Chalky has to break it up. He tells Dunn to go check the bar, and after Dunn leaves, he reminds Nucky that Dunn stood up for him when it counted, and if there’s any riding to be done, Chalky will be the one to do it. Nucky says he doesn’t want anyone else’s grief, and Chalky says he won’t get it.
Nucky heads back to his table, where his date fake-pouts that she thought he’d abandoned her. He asks what she thinks of the show. "Deliciously primitive," she says, so I guess that means it’s OK for us all to go ahead and hate her. Nucky asks if it brings out the beast in her, and instead of vomiting all over the table at Nucky’s creepy flirting, she leans in and whispers that he’ll just have to wait and see.
Sawicki and Knox are now outside Borst’s place, discussing the plan. Knox figures they knock on the door and simply ask for the bribe, essentially, while the veteran Sawicki says they’re just going "to blow this hillbilly over." He gets out of the car, and a nervous Knox follows suit. Sawicki tells him it’s a fifty-fifty split. "Is that standard?" asks Knox. Sawicki tells him to draw his weapon, but Knox is frozen. "I just don’t see well in the dark," he says. Sawicki wants to know how he made the Bureau, then, and Sawicki confesses his father was in the same Elks lodge as their congressman. It doesn’t take twenty-twenty vision to figure out where this is headed. Sawicki tells Knox to stay there and watch the front while he goes around back, and he’ll signal for him. Knox is all, "Great, and don’t worry, because there’s totally not a shotgun booby trap back there!"
Sawicki heads around back, jimmies the lock, and is blown backwards, by the impressively effective boobytrap. Inside, Borst scrambles to his feet with another shotgun and stupidly rushes right outside to stand there looking at the body. He turns when we hear Knox call his name, and then he gets a bullet through the head. He’s dead as well. Knox strolls into the garage, helps himself to a fresh glass of whatever Borst was drinking.
He calmly walks back out, and tells the dying Sawicki that he’ll call it in as soon as he gets a grip on himself. "I don’t mind saying this has all got me pretty rattled."
Elsewhere, Nucky gets dressed, having just finished banging whatever her name is. She wants to make a deal: She won’t tell Cantor if he doesn’t. I think that pretty much goes without saying. "He’s a doll, though. Learn something new every day," she says, before wondering if he really lives there. He says it suits his needs, but that’s how it is with a bachelor. That’s the only hint towards Margaret we’re going to get this episode. She asks if he’s lonely, and he admits he is now and then.
So she sits and confesses that she’s wanted to meet him for a long time: Frowning, Nucky asks why. “Everyone talked about you and Billie,” she says. Nucky asks what they said. “Well, how else could she star on Broadway?” She gets up, still naked, and kisses Nucky, seemingly under the impression that it’s going to turn him on to hear that she’s only there so he can make her a star too. He asks her to give him a minute, and he walks out.
A moment later, in comes Eddie to clean things up. "Mr. Thompson has asked me to say he has been called avay," he says. She’s confused, because Nucky said he’d be right back. "But he is not," says Eddie firmly. Goddamn I’m glad Eddie didn’t die. Anyway, she gets the picture. "Son of a goddamn bitch," she mutters. Eddie’s all, excuse me? "What am I supposed to do?" she asks. "You are supposed to leave," says Eddie. God, I love him. He brings her her clothes and throws them on the bed. And in case she plans on taking her time, a couple of Nucky’s men step into frame to hurry her up, although chivalry dictates they all turn their heads while she gets dressed.
Nucky has disappeared to the balcony of the -- oh, come on -- Albatross Hotel, where he looks at a fishing picture and a note from Captain McCoy. In the picture, McCoy’s to a marlin or a tuna or something, I don’t know, and on the back he’s written, "Nuck — Big haul down here. Come and see. Your pal, McCoy." He’s also looking at some Florida land titles. Eddie brings out some coffee, and Nucky says he didn’t have to get up. So I guess this isn’t immediately after giving the starlet the heave-ho. Eddie sniffs that he was not yet asleep, and Nucky goes back to looking at property. Thinking of retiring?
The camera pulls back and we see that the boardwalk is miles away, lighting up the horizon.
We close with Richard Harrow slowly walking up to a snow covered farmhouse, a light on inside. He looks in the window but doesn’t see anyone. He takes a gun out, but then stashes it in a woodpile on the front porch. He goes to the front door, appears to steel himself, and knocks.
Only there’s a shotgun pointed at his back now, and when he turns around, the woman holding it lowers it. "Emma. I’ve come home," he says, and she starts to smile. As much as Richard probably deserves a happy ending, I have to admit I’m enjoying the high body count he’s been racking up the last couple of episodes.
Daniel is a writer in Newfoundland with a wife and a daughter. Honestly, he’s okay if Van Alden never comes back. Follow him on Twitter (@DanMacEachern) or email him at danieljdaniel@gmail.com.