Bridget and Malcolm congratulate each other on having escaped the clutches of evil!Charlie, and Malcolm says he’s going to charge the cell phone he found while breaking into Charlie’s secret apartment. The cell phone is obviously Gemma’s and not Charlie’s, except for how it is obviously not Gemma’s (come on, she’s sassy and brassy and fun! Just look how funky she looks, even all kidnapped up! Would she really have a plain black phone case?).
When Bridget returns to her fabulous Manhattan apartment, she finds the place an absolute wreck, covered with stinky rose petals and fire-hazard gobs of lit candles. Where is that maid? No, wait, it’s actually love that’s in the air, not only the overpowering scent from so many Pottery Barn three-wick candles! Andrew is waiting to tell Bridget it’s an early present for their anniversary tomorrow. Andrew, you missed the part of this sexy scenario where you’re supposed to be naked on satin sheets. Ahem.
Andrew says Bridget will get her real present tomorrow when they have a fancy schmancy dinner, even though Bridget says she didn’t get him jack. “I have everything I need,” Andrew says feelingly, and Bridget throws double-identity cover-up caution to the wind and says, “I love you,” and they proceed to have soft-focused sexy sex sex! Oh, the irony of the close-up on Andrew’s wedding ring.
Next morning, Bridget wears a really unattractive electric-blue-lapelled jacket and stares meaningfully at the photograph of Siobhan that still dominates the entryway. “Your sister is watching you,” Juliet says, making her start, and then says, “It was a joke, like big brother.” They’re doing all the classics at that public high school, aren’t they? Malcolm’s got the phone charged, and of course the wallpaper photo on it is Gemma and her twins, oh my god, break my heart why don’t you, Ringer? Also, note I’ve only seen the twins once, and I am already smitten with them. /predictable
Now we’re in Paris, France! I am saying that in my fake southern accent, by the way, and let me tell you, it is terrible. Siobhan stalks Tyler at the bar, telling him “Andrew found out I was in Paris,” and I love her huge sunglasses, but that immense chunky necklace overwhelms SMG’s wee neck. But she and Andrew didn’t work things out, she claims, and pulls off those big sunglasses to show a hell of a shiner as proof. We get an AWESOMELY CRAZY shot of Siobhan coldly watching herself in the mirror of a medicine cabinet and then BAM! smacking her face with the door of the cabinet to get that black eye. I just love Siobhan more every week. But Tyler’s not especially moved by that nasty bruise, nor by her claim to have developed feeeeeelings for him.
Malcolm’s convinced Charlie’s hiding something, because of that padlocked door to the basement. “I don’t know; a lot of people lock their basements,” Bridget says distractedly, and I can tell you who locks their basements on this show: Reservation Crime Bosses and Kidnappers For Hire. “What’s the reasoning behind taking Gemma?” Bridget wonders, and I honestly have NO IDEA why that happened in the first place, so I shall also look befuddled about that (but without SMG’s cute little face scrunch).
Malcolm gets the swell idea to go to the police, which, honestly, no one in this show goes WILLINGLY to the police, silly Malcolm! Andrew surprises them on the balcony, and boy, is he strutting around like a guy who got some last night or what? He kisses Bridget goodbye while she makes with the bedroom eyes, and Malcolm picks up on Andrew’s mention of their anniversary. “Six years already, can you believe it?” Bridget says awkwardly, and Malcolm gives her the best, “Oh girl, please,” expression.
The cops show up at Charlie’s shell apartment with some hard questions but prepared to take his glib answers at face value, just like every member of New York’s finest would. Charlie disputes Malcolm’s claims that he’s got an assumed name and a fake apartment, because he used a false name at NA to cover his real name (John DeLario), and the apartment belonged to his recently dead mother. They’ve got Gemma’s cell, but before the detectives can do any substantial questioning, he mentions that he’s retired from NYPD, so how about some of that there preferential treatment about which he’s heard tell? Oh, and Malcolm’s a dirty, dirty addict (you just said you met him at NA, Charlie-John-Jerkface) and so can’t be trusted.
The detectives back-track to Siobhan’s so they can bring Malcolm down to the station, because, oh great, thanks to Charlie’s lies he’s now a suspect again. Plus Charlie’s next-door-neighbor spotted Malcolm breaking into the apartment, so they’ve got that. Malcolm pulls Bridget aside to say Charlie must have moved Gemma before the cops got there, and how the police are going to believe an ex-cop over an ex-junkie. Bridget wavers over letting him go to the station without her, though she stands firm and proud in those impossibly high spiky platforms, aww yeah.
Charlie/John/Jerkface calls Siobhan in hysterics, freaked out because Bridget knows his real name, where he lives, and now her dick friend stole the friggin cell phone. He did indeed move Gemma as Malcolm guessed, and snarls, “Gemma knows too much; it’s time we got rid of her.” Because the best way to throw the cops off your trail and avoid future trouble with the law is to gun down your kidnapping victim, yes. Siobhan says no way is he allowed to hurt Gemma, asking what he wants to leave her alone. He wants money, Siobhan tells him to hang on while she gets it, and he snaps, “Well, if I’m going to do this pro bono, we’re going to do this my way,” which obviously involves a mess o’ killin’.
Interior, a cheap apartment. On the floor, a dead floozy. Welcome back to Wyoming! Jimmy is upset that Victor Machado never told him about this now-dead informant, Mary Curtis, and we’re all upset that Amber Benson is showing up on Ringer as a dead stripper with only a handful of lines in flashbacks. Before she died, she told Machado about an inside man from the force Bodaway had on his payroll, “The Matador.” Jimmy says he has no idea who that could be, probably because it is him.
“If you find Bridget, tell her I miss her,” Mary Curtis says in her last line in the flashback, and Machado wonders if he should feel bad that the original stripper Bodaway killed was one of his informants, and Mary Curtis, who has now been killed, was also one of his informants. Gee, do we think Bridget was smart for thinking he might not be able to keep her safe?
What on EARTH has Henry done to his hair? Is this the signal that he’s distraught over Gemma’s appearance and has no time for combs and product? Or just the writers not letting him get a hair cut because they think it makes him look dreamy? Protip: get a haircut, Henry! Bridget comes over with more scheming plans to find Gemma, and he yells, “Every time you get involved it just makes matters worse. You are not a cop. So stay out of it, Siobhan, and let the police do their job.” Who thinks Bridget’s going to follow that advice? *stares in vain for a show of hands*
Back at PS Whatever, where the Young Samaritans’s Club are separating trash from recycling, and Juliet tells her new BFF Andrea that, “Mr. C. is so hot.” “Ew, he wears ties, and he’s like a thousand,” Andrea replies, which makes her my new favorite sassy female character who I hope won’t get shived or shot or sunken anytime soon. Nah, he’s only 30, Juliet says, and “Besides, Bella married Edward when she was a teenager, and he was like 400!” But Mr. C. does not sparkle, Juliet. Therein lies the error in your logic. “He like, hates you,” Andrea observes after Mr. C. is super cold to Juliet, but Juliet thinks they totally have a connection. S-M-R-T.
It’s just awkward for everyone when you get home to find your sister’s husband you’ve recently bedded under false pretenses chatting away to your fake!NA sponsor/kidnapper/possible killer/jerkface ex-cop, you know? Andrew leaves to run fancy schmancy anniversary-related errands, and Charlie tells Bridget not to worry because, “I’m not going to keep you here that long.” Awwww, snap! “Sit your ass down,” Charlie says when Andrew’s gone, and bites out, “Whatever it is you think you know, you don’t.” Well, Bridget knows he took Gemma. Oh. That part’s right, huh, Charlie? He wants cash from her to stop him from killing Gemma, even though Bridget knows this can’t be only about money.
As Charlie leaves the lobby, Henry skulks in with his douche jacket and fugly mop of hair to ask the doorman, “Did Charlie Young visit the Martins?” As soon as he hears Charlie just left, Henry books it out to the sidewalk, where he looks around frantically, because of course he has no idea what Charlie looks like. This seems less than effective, Henry.
Machado gets a call from Jimmy who, guess what, knows who the Matador is!
Bridget counts out cash for Charlie’s ransom, which Andrew at first assumes is a thoughtful anniversary gift for him. But when she breaks down in sobs and covers her face with her hands (and an awesome brass cocktail ring that I must must have!), she tells him, “I know where Gemma is.”
Andrew insists on accompanying Bridget to Penn Station for the cash hand-off, since a psychopath is blackmailing her and all. And to make up for the fact that Bridget has only $40,000 of the $250,000 Charlie demanded, Andrew tells her to hand over the “real gift” for her anniversary, an immense diamond costing over two hundred thousand, and DAMN, that must have been some super hot sexy sex sex if this is the payoff! “I was going to propose again; I know it’s silly.” “It’s not silly,” Bridget says, because how badly does she want a proposal from Andrew, even if it is not really for her? I sure hope they bring an appraiser along as well, because I’m thinkin’ Charlie might not take random rings as ransom, FYI!
Various kids leave Mr. C.’s post-recycling pizza party, and Juliet not at all subtly asks him what he’s doing, tries to touch his hand, and twirls her hair like she’s twelve. Her new BFF watches the awkwardness when Mr. C. says, “This kind of behavior is unacceptable, and it won’t be tolerated.” “If you think I’m flirting with you, stop trying to flatter yourself,” Juliet bitches. “I’m just trying to be nice!” But when she goes to leave in a huff with Andrea, Mr. C. tells Andrea to wait outside.
Zoom in on Jimmy waiting in some crappy undercover car in the back alley of a warehouse. Machado hears Jimmy’s lame theory that some cop with a new speedboat must be on the take for Bodaway, they take out their guns, and Machado fails to notice Jimmy’s gun is kinda trained on him.
Back at the hand-off spot, Bridget and Andrew wait half an hour past the arranged pick-up time, when Charlie finally calls to bark at her that he told her to come alone. Someone’s called the cops, because the detectives are parked outside (where, conveniently and inconceivably, they got a spot on the appropriate side of the building, riiiiiggghhht in Bridget’s sight-line). But Bridget didn’t tell them, “Charlie, I’m begging you.” “Sorry, Siobhan; my goodwill is all maxed out,” he says before hanging up. “I didn’t want to do this,” he tells Gemma-in-the-car-trunk, “But your bitch friend screwed up.” And he SHOOTS her, WHAT THE HELL??? They seriously revealed Gemma alive last week after all this time only to kill her in the very next episode? *kicks things*
Turns out Henry is the one who tipped off the cops, and they’ve been following Bridget all day. Good going, Henry. We can’t have one single blackmailing ransom hand-off without you ruining it, huh? Oh, and DeLario’s prints were all over Gemma’s cell phone, so great work trusting Charlie/John/Jerkface, detectives. No one has an idea where to go next until Bridget!Siobhan hands over some bill that Malcolm stole for a storage facility rented by Charlie: “Maybe this is where he has Gemma.”
Jimmy and Machado reminisce about all the good times these past two years they’ve been hunting down Bodaway. And hey, didn’t Jimmy kill some huge crime guy nicknamed “Bull” with a single shot in some earlier case of his, Machado asks. Because you know what they call guys who kill bulls, and we all groan, “MATADORS” because it would be like Machado to think out loud and solve the mystery of the inside man when he’s got a gun pointed at him and they’re miles and miles away from where anyone can hear him!
Oh, but Machado had people following him (just to prove that sometimes having people following you doesn’t result in automatic death for the kidnapped person you’re trying to save) and Machado says to Jimmy, “You’ve got a lot of questions to answer, starting with what really happened the night that Bridget Kelly ran.”
Juliet sprawls on her bed all forlorn and crying, only to immediately be Skyped by Andrea with her awesome eyeshadow, calling to make sure she’s okay. Wait, didn’t Andrea wait outside that classroom? But no, because sobbing Juliet tells her that after Andrea left, Mr. C. forced her to have sex, WHHAAATT?? Well, Mr. C. has been acting like a creeper, first overly friendly, and then completely cold, so maybe?
But I have a terrible feeling about this, so listen. Listen. If this tale is a manipulation by Juliet, if she’s lying about Mr. C. to get back at him for not wanting her, I am going to have a HUGE bone to pick with you, Ringer. We do not need another “hey, a tricksy female student claiming sexual assault is just victimizing the poor teacher!” kind of plot line, now or ever. Are we clear? *gives you the slanty-eyed stare*
Charlie shows up at his storage unit to dump the body, tra la, tra lay, but when he opens the trunk of his car, Gemma isn’t there. She steps out and hits him with something, scolding, “That’s what you get for trying to kill me,” getting title and the best moment of the episode! So Gemma’s alive???? YAY!
“How are you even alive?” Charlie chokes out. “You’ve got bad aim,” Gemma retorts, and I am cheering half-heartedly, because I love Gemma returning, but we can’t go on together, with Suspicious Minds, Ringer— I’m still worried the show is going to off her, because it’s seemed like that’s happened several times already now!
Gemma nearly makes it to the keys still in the SUV, but Charlie gets his gun aimed her way again. “Why are you doing this to me?” Gemma wails, and Charlie says, “Don’t blame me, blame Siobhan.” “You mean Bridget,” Gemma corrects even as her life hangs in the balance and Charlie follows with, “No, I mean Siobhan. That bitch is still alive.” And with that HE SHOOTS HER AGAIN, and I am so, so angry right now that we got Gemma back only to get her re-killed and I DON’T EVEN KNOW why you want to play me this way, Ringer! DDDDDD:
As Charlie drags the finally for-real dead Gemma into the storage unit, it’s Siobhan’s turn to aim a gun at someone. “Give me your weapon,” she demands, and she must have just flown in all the way from Paris, France! When he hands over his gun, he tells her she’s not a killer and won’t shoot him, even if he did rebel against her order not to kill Gemma. “Otherwise you would have put a bullet right in Bridget’s head, which by the way would have been a lot easier than getting her to take the fall for you.” BLINK BLINK BLINK. Wait. I am. So. Confused.
But there’s no time for which fall/which plot/which glorious machination of Siobhan’s we’re touching on, because while Charlie’s saying Siobhan needs him, she says, “You’re a glorified babysitter who got way too expensive.” He tries to grab the gun, she shooooooots hiiiimmm dead. This might be the first person on Ringer that I actually hoped would die, so. *hands* Siobhan looks sadly down at Gemma. And puts the gun she just used in Charlie’s hand.
Malcolm’s back to spend the night at the Martin pad, while Siobhan looks miserable on the balcony and Andrew tells her “None of this is your fault.” I am…actually not certain whose fault it is at this stage. Mostly Charlie’s, I guess, for deciding to kill her and pulling the trigger? Siobhan’s for ordering the kidnapping and not doing enough to protect Gemma? Henry for bringing along the cops and being a useless puffy mop of hair?
The cops call Andrew to say they found Charlie’s body. “They think he killed himself,” he reports, because obviously they’re not going to bother checking the angle of the exit wound and determining there’s probably no way he could have shot himself at that precise degree, right? “Gemma?” Bridget asks in a little girl voice, and Andrew tells her gently, “I’m so sorry, Siobhan.”
It’s morning, but not in Paris, France! No, Siobhan is in NYC, there to stay for a while. When Tyler calls to tell her he picked up the things she left at her hotel room, we see a shot of various items including the positive pregnancy test. “Siobhan, are you pregnant?” he asks. “Yes.” “Is it mine?” “Yes,” she answers flatly, and ahahahahaha, Tyler is the chump of all chumps if he really thinks she’s having his baby! I’m past the point of assuming Siobhan will tell the truth about anything, and just admiring her gall. It’s really kind of awesome.
Bridget sits in a kitchen that is way too lacking in KitchenAid appliances and Viking Ranges to be at the NYC apartment — oh, it’s Charlie’s ex-kitchen, which explains everything. Malcolm is picking up the rest of his stuff from that apartment, because apparently there’s no sort of police searched planned of what must be a motherlode of evidence of Siobhan’s schemes and Charlie’s jerkfacery.
Bridget finds a little scrap of paper with “Siobhan Pivoine 419” scrawled on it — Siobhan’s hotel room in Paris (Paris what? PARIS, FRANCE!). Bridget finds it not at all suspicious that Charlie has her sister’s name written somewhere, and doesn’t seem to take the bait when Malcolm’s like, “Pivoine, WONDER WHAT THAT MEANS, not like we could just GOOGLE IT or something!”
“This can’t be just about money,” Bridget says, going over the questions that still lurk in this case. Shift to a terrific split-screen, Bridget at the apartment looking worried, Siobhan in the back of the cab looking fabulous and determined. Wonder what will happen when, in a city of six million strangers, you run into your twin sister? Wackiness will ensue! But not until next year, actually, because the show is on hiatus until January, poo.