Ah, we find ourselves gazing upon the world through the warm, radiant glow of the Valencia filter, witnessing Joe's blossoming romance. Kate stands out from the crowd; she can sense, even as Joe's intense gaze locks on her and his inner monologue unfolds, that his thoughts drift elsewhere, unshared secrets lurking beneath the surface. We're meant to embrace the notion that these two souls are lost in a blissful, romantic utopia, a fleeting idyll before the harsh realities of life intervene. Yet, how can one fathom Kate, who witnessed Joe swiftly dispose of Gemma's body with chilling efficiency and is privy to his sinister past—so dire that their relationship hinges on her never inquiring about it—failing to connect the dots and flee for her life, be it from the city, country, or even the planet itself? Perhaps Kate's capacity for disbelief only stretches so far, her mind already occupied by the unforgivable figure of her father, who looms on the horizon, set to arrive in town the following day.
When Rhys issued Joe his grim command, Joe declared his resignation from the grim business of murder. Yet, Rhys wields boundless leverage, thanks to Joe's misdeeds across the pond. (How, one wonders, does Rhys possess such intimate knowledge of Joe's criminal past?) Rhys vows that this will be Joe's final homicide assignment. It seems Joe's childhood was steeped in Dickensian tales, leaving him woefully unprepared for the real-world lessons imparted by "If You Give a Mouse a Cookie." Regardless, Joe resolves to uncover what dirt Lockwood holds over Rhys. To achieve this, he must infiltrate Lockwood's circle, defying the express wishes of his newfound lover.
Joe suggests to Kate that accompanying her father to dinner would demonstrate her emotional stability, promising to be by her side throughout. Kate, without a second thought, concurs? Girl, your father is the very embodiment of evil, according to your own words! You've been estranged for years! This dinner invitation is a trap, a honeyed snare set by him! He even texted the trapper to inform him when his daughter was "done" so he could facilitate a wire transfer. Beck may have been annoying, but her dimwittedness made her questionable decisions easier to stomach. Kate, supposedly super-intelligent, displays such appalling judgment!
Meanwhile, Nadia delves into the case of the Eat-the-Rich killer, sensing something amiss with Dawn, the erotomaniac who has borne the brunt of blame for all the murders. A more plausible suspect, Nadia posits, would be an "average Joe"—ironically named, considering Joe's involvement. Edward, offering a suggestion, throws out "Professor Jonathan." Nadia perceives that Joe knows more than he lets on and ponders how to gain his confidence. Edward, quite carelessly, proposes that she "sleep with him," earning a furious reaction from Nadia. Though one must admit, it's a strategy Joe might very well employ! Furthermore, Nadia was already entangled with Malcolm… it's a gross proposition coming from her boyfriend, yet let's not pretend the thought never crossed her mind!
Joe is equally engrossed in his research endeavors, yet like Nadia, he finds himself hitting a brick wall: Lockwood has meticulously scrubbed the internet clean of any incriminating tales, leaving only glowing accounts of his philanthropic endeavors. It defies credibility, considering Lockwood's supposed global prominence and myriad alleged misdeeds, that he has escaped the exposé treatment bestowed upon figures like the Koch Brothers or the Sacklers by prestigious publications akin to The New Yorker. During an office hour visit, Nadia pretends to seek Joe's input on her novel, inquiring into Dawn's motives for murdering Malcolm. She also casually asks if he's perused the story she entrusted him with, to which his nonchalant demeanor reveals the truth. Desperate to usher her out, Joe claims her plot is overly intricate. To further cement her suspicion of his neglect, Nadia poses a question about a character named Miranda, nonexistent in her narrative.
As they head out for dinner, Kate forewarns Joe that her father is one of those charming villains who could easily win over hearts. And indeed, Tom Lockwood is impeccably portrayed by Greg Kinnear. He leans in to greet Joe, whispering intimately, "Looking forward to getting to know you, Joe." Now, that's a delightful twist indeed.
At dinner, Dad exudes charm, sharing anecdotes from Kate's childhood, whom he affectionately calls Katherine ("But Barbra Streisand turned down her puppy!"). Joe frets over how to steer the conversation towards Rhys, thinking it wouldn't hurt to ask Tom's thoughts on the mayor's race. Instead, dessert arrives, quite literally a scaled model of the Katherine Lockwood Museum that Kate stands to inherit in New York, filled with her father's extensive collection and pieces by her favored upcoming artists. Kate excuses herself to the restroom, giving her dad an opening to grill Joe on the crucial matters: "What can you tell me about Love Quinn? Did you kill her? Have you ever taken a life?" This, my dear reader, is the electric tension I've been yearning for all season! Why did we have to endure seven episodes before reaching this climactic scene?
Joe clarifies that Love took her own life, almost taking him with her, upon which Lockwood smoothly shifts gears, asking, "Are you acquainted with Rhys Montrose?" Rhys's memoir, as expected, is deemed a "work of embellishment," and Lockwood plans to publish an expose, albeit one seemingly insufficient to derail his campaign. Lockwood expresses gratitude for any dirt Joe can unearth, and Joe decides that instead of eliminating Lockwood, he'll use him to incarcerate Rhys. "The enemy of my enemy is my... frenemy," Joe muses, wondering if 'frenemy' is still a term in vogue.
That evening, Phoebe seeks refuge at Kate's place, understandably in the throes of a downward spiral. She has recently dismissed her entire staff, contemplates selling her apartment, and yearns to carve out a trade she's competent in, only to realize she possesses no marketable skills. (Her quip, "I'm just like this big, long baby," had me bursting into laughter.) Kate, ever the rational one, suggests that Phoebe consult a mental health expert and considers admitting her to a discreet facility specializing in PTSD treatment, a service she has previously arranged for her own mother, among others. Unfortunately for Phoebe, Adam—freshly homeless—also drops by Kate's. Despite Kate's explicit intention to handle the situation discreetly, she impulse-shares her plan with Adam, her best friend's unstable ex, who is equally unstable himself. Does this really paint Kate as the group's genius?
Adam pleads for the opportunity to escort Phoebe to the facility, driven by a desire to do one commendable deed. Phoebe, the ultimate judge of character, trustingly agrees. I feared the worst—a car accident, perhaps—but instead, the wreckage Adam brings is of an emotional nature: they return engaged, her ring a humble piece of twine wrapped around her finger, a symbol of their newfound indifference to material possessions in the throes of their bliss.
Meanwhile, Joe lures Rhys over under false pretenses, planting a camera and setting up a recording app on his phone, aiming to catch Rhys in a confessional moment. However, Rhys swiftly senses a trap and counters with his ace up his sleeve: Marienne's passport. Joe now has a mere 24 hours to eliminate Lockwood, or Marienne will face certain doom. Given Joe's lack of a paper trail linking him to Marienne (unlike his marriage to Love), this revelation shines like a neon sign pointing to the undeniable truth: Rhys is Joe, Joe is Rhys. Perhaps Joe swiped Marienne's passport during the locket theft, and, as per his usual modus operandi, imprisoned her in some secluded cell.
In the wee hours of the morning, Kate visits, revealing she's spent the entire night pondering her and Joe's complex relationship—great yet doomed from the start. (My thought: Are they really that great?) Kate resolves to confess her deepest, darkest secret to Joe: as a teenage prodigy, she orchestrated the construction of a pipeline that caused cancer in numerous children. "I will forever be Katherine Lockwood," she laments, amusing me because does insisting "I'm Kate now" really carry such drama when your birth name is "Katherine"? Once again, I marvel at Kate's lack of curiosity about Joe's equally troubling past—perhaps she already knows? Kate delineates her fantasy of escaping to a new city with Joe every year, a meta-joke considering Joe's nomadic lifestyle since the series' inception.
Joe encounters Lockwood in a secluded corner of the school's rare book library, an encounter that now casts a shadow of doubt over every one of Joe's unchaperoned conversations. Could Joe have conjured up this entire dialogue in his mind? Joe has meticulously prepared for a contingency by laying tarps, seemingly contemplating an easy disposal of bodies, yet he hasn't fully devised an escape plan. Before Joe can carry out his intended mission, Lockwood interjects with some revealing remarks: He believes Joe is responsible for Love's demise, which he dismisses as insignificant since she was, in his words, "a maniac." To Lockwood, Joe's supposed guilt merely confirms his status as a capable murderer, skilled enough to evade detection—much like Rhys. Instead of confronting Joe with intent to confront or expose him, Lockwood comes bearing an offer: he wants Rhys dead. The alternative, Lockwood warns, is the forfeiture of everything Joe has painstakingly constructed here, including his nascent relationship with Kate, which presumably Joe cannot fathom living without, despite his lingering affection for Marienne. As an added option, Lockwood jests, "You could just stab me." Yet, in his supposedly unbiased view, eliminating Rhys stands as the most prudent choice. With a flourish, Lockwood flips open a first-edition Winston Churchill book that Joe strategically retrieved to dazzle or divert him, and jots down Rhys's countryside address within its pages, eliciting a chuckle. He tosses the book back at Joe, uttering, "Go be your best self." Undoubtedly, this marks the most entertaining scene the series has witnessed thus far. Where has this spark been all season? Was Greg too preoccupied or costly to be featured in all ten episodes?
Breaking into Joe's office-cum-classroom, Nadia stumbles upon a hollowed-out copy of "Jekyll and Hyde" concealing a key, accompanied by a tome on torture. Yikes! The "Jekyll and Hyde" allusion aims to suggest Joe's bifurcated psyche, with half embodying a psycho killer. This notion is peculiar, considering Joe's "normal" half was already exhibiting psychopathic tendencies. Nevertheless, perhaps Rhys is indeed real, and Joe has conjured up their interactions, akin to how Dawn was convinced Phoebe communicated with her through the television. The term "erotomaniac" has been bandied about frequently enough in this series to hint at our impending trajectory.
Joe ventures to Rhys's countryside abode, arriving just as Rhys's ex, Emma, speeds away. Or could it be Rhys himself? Could Rhys possess a twin? Rhys, or whoever this is, expresses ignorance upon recognizing Joe. Joe responds rationally—or so he thinks, tying the potential Rhys to a chair in the shed with zip ties. Joe interrogates him about Marienne's whereabouts, but the potential Rhys swears ignorance. In a fit of rage, Joe takes a lethal step. Oops! Subsequently, Joe hallucinates Rhys, now resplendent in a suit, cheering, "We really do have Marienne in a cage."
As a gesture of goodwill, Edward forwards Nadia photographs that Dawn possessed, sourced through his newspaper magnate father's connections, including shots of Joe toting a takeout bag from the budget Indian eatery across from a dilapidated building. Nadia embarks on an investigation. Again, I implore at least one character in this series to exercise caution by alerting someone before venturing into such an evidently suspicious or menacing locale—dropping a pin, sharing one's location. We reside in an era of citizen-facilitated surveillance, where public spaces resemble panopticons, creepily omnipresent yet occasionally harnessable for our safety. Nadia descends creaky stairs only to encounter our acquaintance, the human aquarium, inhabited by none other than Marienne.
