Ringer, S1 Ep3 — If You Ever Want A French Lesson…

This episode is where it all gets exciting: assassins! Disposable phones! Dark alleys! Dalliances! Drug lords! Other things that start with “D”!

To start us off, Bridget is in her robe, staring at the cell phone that she took off the assassin — you remember, the phone that rang from inside the trunk that she unwisely stuffed the dead guy in last week? Andrew is surprised to see her up that early, but assumes it must be morning sickness. I am reminded once again that I really want this fake pregnancy thing resolved before it gets ridiculous.

The two discuss the wisdom of having sent Juliet to her mom (whose name is Catherine) in Miami, but Bridget maintains that a girl just needs her mom sometimes. Before Andrew leaves for work, he tells Bridget to go to an address he’ll leave for her at eleven, for a surprise. Aww.

As soon as he’s gone, Bridget calls Malcolm again. When she tells him that she thinks the assassin was a gun for hire, he wants to know what she’s doing to figure out who’s after her sister. He’s walking around in a parking garage again, by the way. Not a good idea, Malcolm! Malcolm suggests she pry off the back of the phone to look for a serial number. Buffy could totally do that, no sweat, although I guess she might break it in the process. Bridget, though, has to go find a screwdriver in Andrew’s desk. In the proc

ess of trying to open the phone, she sees a framed photo of the Martins (by the Seine River in Paris, it looks like) — and the image of Siobhan in the photo is the same one the hit man had in his pocket. Dun dun DUN!

Bridget immediately jumps to the conclusion that Andrew must have put the hit out on his wife — to get her out of the picture, so to speak! Ha, aren’t I clever? But seriously, at this point, I was really hoping she was wrong, even as I was glad she didn’t just ignore that connection.

The Martins

One of these things is just like the other!

When Bridget passes along her theory to Malcolm, he points out wisely that the picture doesn’t prove anything. She knows it’s a stretch, but she points out in turn that Siobhan had to have killed herself for a reason. It does seem more reasonable of a theory if, like Bridget, you don’t know Siobhan is still alive. But Malcolm tells her to find proof of a connection between the phone and Andrew, and then tells her to stay safe. Right after he hangs up, Malcolm is felled by a blow from a thug. Aaaand we all called it. Poor Malcolm.

When we next see Malcolm, his pretty face is all bloody, and he’s surrounded by Macawi’s thugs. Macawi himself holds up Malcolm’s phone, and the poor guy says he really hasn’t spoken to Bridget Kelly in a while. I don’t think Macawi believes him.

And speaking of people who are suspicious of other people, we cut to Agent Machado at the FBI office. He’s not at all happy to hear from his friend (from last week) that the judge wouldn’t grant a warrant for Siobhan’s phone records. Machado wants to keep going until they find a judge who’ll agree to the warrant, but his friend doesn’t think that’s going to happen. His friend thinks Machado should go back to Wyoming and find another way to get to Macawi.

Machado gets all serious. “We’ve been after Macawi for ten years,” he says, and reminds the other guy of all the bad things Macawi has been into: armed robbery, trafficking, prostitution, and at least nine murders. But Bridget was their only real witness who could get any of the charges to stick. Machado reiterates that Siobhan is harboring Bridget, and he’s going to find her, and he’s going to get to Macawi. I wonder if maybe the other FBI guy is on Macawi’s take, but maybe he’s not interesting enough to have that many layers.

Bridget is asking some young guy in a low-end electronics store to tell her if the disposable phone might have called this number — showing him Andrew’s on her phone. The guy looks unsure. She quickly improvises that she thinks her husband is cheating on her.

The young guy looks astonished, like he can’t believe anyone would cheat on anyone as hot as SMG. Hee. But then he says there is a SIM-card-like thing in the disposable phone, but only cops, FBI, and high-level drug dealers have the capability to unlock it. I wonder what personal experience he might have with that last class of people.

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