As Maddie Morgenstern engages in a conversation with Allan's father, Hal Durst, in the quaint setting of 1946, she assumes the guise of a high school newspaper reporter, penning an article on his thriving business. Yet, beneath this facade lurks a more intimate motive - a rendezvous for carnal pleasures, a familiar ritual they've indulged in countless times before, but one that may never be repeated. Hal, with the charm of a seasoned seducer, dangles the prospect of a life akin to that of a "bohemian princess," complete with a sanctuary of her own. However, when Maddie reveals her unexpected pregnancy, the idyllic dream shatters. Hal's response? A arrangement for a painful, clandestine abortion, all while counseling her to prioritize her budding career as a writer. By the conclusion of Lady In The Lake's Episode 5, the reality of his decision is made clear.
Shifting gears to 1967, Maddie's encounter with her estranged husband, Milton, is fraught with tension yet oddly civil. Milton shares a heartening revelation: their son Seth has finally confided in him, voicing his trepidation about staying at his mother's place, a neighborhood he finds unsettling. (Maddie breathes a sigh of relief, grateful Seth hasn't uncovered the truth about his paternity.) As Milton pulls out divorce papers, Maddie's instincts kick into high gear, instantly deducing that he's embarked on a new romance, one with a significantly younger woman - even younger than Officer Platt, lending her a semblance of moral high ground. Nevertheless, they strike an uneasy truce: he'll foot the legal bills for the divorce, provided she refrains from pressuring Seth to visit her. It's not an ideal arrangement, but a less tumultuous path forward.
In a search for guidance, Maddie seeks out Edna (portrayed by Lisa Hodsoll), her colleague at the Star. But instead of finding a sympathetic ear, she encounters a barrage of admonishments reminiscent of a bouncer's stern warnings on Dalton's inaugural night at the Double Deuce from Road House. Edna, a seasoned pro, lays down three unwavering principles for Maddie to navigate her professional terrain: Never seek permission, never utter an apology, and always possess a keen sense of the room's dynamics. Case in point, Edna herself seeks refuge in a bathroom stall, desperately avoiding the unwanted attentions of her obnoxious colleagues - a list that has now unfortunately expanded to include Maddie. In a hilarious turn of events, Edna slams the stall door shut, effectively shutting Maddie out in the most literal sense.
As Maddie engages in conversation with Stephan Zawadzkie, her suspicions linger thickly, casting him in the shadows of yet another heinous crime: the untimely demise of Cleo Johnson, whose body was discovered, eerily floating in the park's fountain, months after her mysterious disappearance. The chilling coincidence of Cleo's vanishing on the very night Stephan made his escape, coupled with their shared fate in the same verdant grounds, has the police eyeing him with renewed vigor for both this murder and Tessie Durst's. However, Stephan steadfastly denies any prior knowledge of Cleo, insisting that his only connection to the case is Maddie herself, echoing Hannibal Lecktor's cryptic warning from Manhunter: "If you seek the truth, Will, look within yourself."
In her quest for answers, Maddie seeks the expertise of Dr. Kornblatt, the medical examiner, but finds that the passage of time has dealt a cruel blow to their investigation. Cleo's body, having endured prolonged submersion, lies in a state of advanced decomposition, a veil of uncertainty shrouding the cause of her demise. Maddie's intuition, honed by experience, whispers that drowning in a fountain's embrace, amidst the frigid winter lake, is no mere mishap.
Turning to Patrice Murphy, a renowned journalist at the Afro-American, Maddie harbors hopes of a mutually beneficial exchange of information. Yet, the encounter lacks the warmth of collaboration, instead, Murphy's sharp words serve as a stern reminder of the boundaries between them. Nevertheless, Patrice offers a morsel of assistance: a stack of newspapers, a treasure trove of articles, urging Maddie to delve deeper, not just into the case but also into the complex fabric of the Bottom, a world Maddie now claims as her own.
The scene shifts to Slappy Johnson, a comedian whose every word vibrates with a raw mix of grief and fury. At Cleo's funeral, he unleashes a torrent of accusations, each dart aimed at those he holds responsible. His anger boils over at his in-laws' unwarranted suspicions, the cruel barrier separating him from his sons. Myrtle Summer, too, bears his wrath for denying Cleo the opportunity that might have saved her from her fate, a sacrifice made to the all-consuming demands of Shell Gordon. Shell himself, dubbed "Kingpin" by Slappy's fearless or reckless tongue, stands accused of smearing Cleo's reputation and, implicitly, her murder. Even Reggie, his every move dictated by Shell's whims, falls under Slappy's scornful gaze.
Amidst this maelstrom of emotions, Slappy's self-recrimination is palpable, unspoken yet palpable. If only his career had soared, if he had held on tighter to Cleo's heart, if that fateful night had played out differently, the outcome might have been vastly different. But the bitter truth remains: Cleo's life, now forever still, haunts every corner of his being.
As Maddie engages in conversation with Lucille, her occasional hairdresser and a figure bound by business transactions rather than camaraderie, a hidden agenda unfolds. Slappy's whispered revelation sends a chill down her spine—Lucille's sudden fortune in the numbers racket coincides with Cleo's mysterious disappearance, painting a sinister backdrop. ("Strike a number forbidden to you, and you'll find yourself face-up in a lake's embrace.") Lucille's haste in ushering her client out of her grand, recently acquired salon speaks volumes, and Maddie's intuition quickly deciphers the underlying message.
Her encounter with Bob Bauer ignites a spark of revelation, yet it also exposes his cowardice. Maddie senses that he is aware of her onto something, yet he shies away from delving into the dark corners of Baltimore's racial underbelly, dismissing her meticulously pieced-together circumstantial evidence as mere farce orchestrated by Slappy's deceitful hand. Determined, Maddie vows to forge ahead, her investigation fueled by a solitary fire.
But when Maddie sits across from Shell Gordon and Reggie Robinson, the moment is nothing short of exhilarating—it's almost as if the heavens have aligned. Here stands Natalie Portman, an Academy Award winner, face to face with Wood Harris, The Wire's iconic Avon Barksdale, each commanding the screen with a prowess that transcends mere acting. The depth of talent in that show's ensemble is truly remarkable.
Shell's every word is carefully chosen, delivered with a finesse that belies Maddie's novice status as an interviewer. As she attempts to dance around the subject of his illicit activities, he skillfully draws her into the open, forcing her to confront the racial undertones that have lingered unspoken. He pays homage to Jewish resilience, commending her people for overcoming genocide and prejudice, yet in the end, he makes it clear that to him, a Black man, she is as white as any other. It's a spectacle akin to witnessing a somber Zorro, his swift swordplay effortlessly unraveling the defenses of his opponent, or in this case, her carefully constructed facade, leaving nothing but the bare truth exposed.
Yet, Shell is not the solitary presence in this setting; Reggie looms large, his gruff, soft-spoken demeanor concealing nothing from keen observation. He casually divulges his passion for boxing, a hobby that often leaves its mark on the face, and reveals a shared hobby with Shell: collecting tropical fish—a detail that could well have been spotted by an observer in a certain store, on the day a girl vanished, as a Black man with a bruised eye made a peculiar purchase. The pièce de résistance arrives when Shell, almost playfully, exposes that Reggie and Dora Carter, Cleo's dearest friend, shared a romantic past. (Reggie's emotions are palpable even now, when it's in his best interest to keep them hidden; asked by Maddie if they were in love, he responds with a humble, almost tender, "I'd like to think so.")
Maddie's conversation with Cleo's former shift manager at Hecht's Department Store (Laureen E. Smith) stems from a sense of duty, ironically towards Shell, the man at the center of her suspicions. His assertions, though tinged with deceit—he's the one who orchestrated the murder!—are not without truth; Cleo indeed worked for a diverse array of employers, both Jewish and Black. It's a lead worth pursuing, if nothing else. But the revelation that shocks her to the core is the revelation that the yellow dress, hastily acquired during the chaos following Tessie Durst's disappearance, was sourced directly from Cleo herself.
As Maddie speaks with Ferdie, her fragile equilibrium seems to hover on the brink of shattering once more. The traumatic memories of her abortion and the gruesome image of Cleo's lifeless body consume her thoughts. She becomes fixated on the web of connections, how everything seems to intertwine: the dress from Cleo on the same day Tessie met her fate, both women ending up in the same murky waters of a park, months apart, with the second discovery coinciding with the night the prime suspect in Tessie's case fled to that park, after infiltrating Maddie's sanctuary. Ferdie's prior acquaintance with Cleo, his knowledge of her work as Miss Helpline and the phone call that inadvertently led to her discovery, add layers of intrigue that verge on the realm of a literary thriller—a fate all too fitting for the characters embroiled in this tangled narrative.
She channels her mounting anxiety into relentless accusations against Ferdie, questioning his allegiance to Shell, his motives for pursuing Maddie, and even his potential involvement in concealing his acquaintance with a Black boxer-cum-fish enthusiast with a bruised eye around the time of Tessie's tragic demise. This final accusation proves to be the tipping point for Ferdie, who sternly reminds her that lives hang in the balance, far surpassing the triviality of a homecoming dance's theme.
As Maddie engages in conversation with Mrs. Zawadzkie, a sinister turn takes place. The Polish woman, hailing from the picturesque yet ominous Treblinka, stabs Maddie viciously in the abdomen while spewing venomous anti-Semitic slurs. The attack feels like a sudden storm out of a clear sky, its origin inexplicable yet undeniably present.
The scene is fraught with unease, particularly for a Jewish woman like Maddie, stepping into the sanctuary of a devout Catholic Polish immigrant's home. The ambiance is heavy with crosses, lamb symbols, and portraits of the Pope, while Mrs. Zawadzkie paints a twisted picture of Treblinka as a picturesque locale, conveniently glossing over the atrocities committed there. She even attempts to sympathize with the locals whose reputations have been tarnished, implying they too suffered greatly at the hands of the Germans.
Shell Gordon, in comparison, may not have been as cordial as Mrs. Zawadzkie, but his presence lacked the chilling edge that threatened to consume Maddie in that fateful encounter.
