Every season, the Drama After Dark team gathers ‘round the (still virtual) conference room table to watch the latest and greatest in all things drama. With fall finally fast approaching, I’m excited to cover MASTERPIECE’s newest offering: Guilt. Do I know very much about the plot yet? No. But it has Mark Bonnar and his annoyingly hot face, so let’s just say I’m looking forward to it. Check in each week for a recap following the show on Sunday evenings!
I’ll be honest with you, reader: when we first started Guilt, I was half convinced it couldn’t possibly sustain four whole episodes. How, for instance, could Cheekbones and Softie possibly maintain their charade long enough? Clearly, I was mistaken, and this thing has now gotten so deliciously convoluted I’m starting to wonder how it’ll all get wrapped up in this final episode.
Episode four starts with L’Americain popping by the record shop to look for Softie, who’s pretty mysteriously (to her) not there, and Cheekbones stalking into the offices of Sleazy Loan Shark (and passing Spin Class Friend’s desk on the way in, because of COURSE he does) to find out just where the hell Softie is — from Sleazy Loan Shark, or from Mister Maytag, because obviously he’s there too.
Mister Maytag: *Something super creepy about how Softie is in a dark corner somewhere.*
Thanks, I hate it! Cheekbones, either recognizing that he’s being followed or just naturally cautious, drives to his office, only to pop out the back and hail a taxi. Destination: the bar where he normally has meetings with Remington Steele Reserve, which, incidentally, has a bonkers back room where they’re either decanting alcohol into new bottles or fully breaking bad, but regardless, doing something illegal. Passing the highlander version of Heisenberg (Heislander? Highlenberg?) Cheekbones goes into the locked billiard room where he finds an irate, but thankfully still alive Softie.
It appears that Cheekbones had a few more tricks up his sleeve than I thought: the guys who grabbed Softie at the end of the last episode were sent by Cheekbones himself, and not, as I’d assumed, Mister Maytag.
Softie: You kidnapped me!
Cheekbones: Here’s the deal: I’ve been working for Mister Maytag. And so have you.
Softie: UGH.
Cheekbones: Well, yeah. That’s why I needed you to keep doing what you’ve been doing; when you tried to leave he wanted to send you a message, so I figured it’d be better for me to sneak you off instead of letting THAT happen.
Softie: Wait, so just to clarify, you set me up to launder money for a gangster. And you didn’t even give me the chance to decline??
Cheekbones: If it helps, you’ve been making us a lot of money?
Softie: It doesn’t, thank you. Now I’d like my phone and a taxi out of here… why would that guy even be mad at me? I wasn’t involved!
Just then, Remington Steele Reserve makes his incredibly black and blue entrance, because apparently all of these men, save Softie, have a real flare for the dramatic.
Remington Steele Reserve: Listen to your brother.
Implied message? “Or you’ll end up looking like me.” Back at crime central, Spin Class Friend overhears Mister Maytag telling Sleazy Loan Shark that he thinks Cheekbones is lying (true!) and then gets direct instructions from Mister Maytag: keep Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones close… they might need her for leverage.
Cheekbones, meanwhile, plots with the guys: in his estimation, Mister Maytag is a gangster, and this money laundering thing? It’s too white collar and fancy for him, which means there’s someone else pulling Mister Maytag’s strings. If they can just get to the puppeteer, they might have a way to get Softie out of the game AND convince them to put Cheekbones in charge instead of Mister Maytag. A true win-win!
Me: Ok, Icarus! Good luck with that!
Softie: Whatever, sounds good. But if it works, you give me enough cash to start over somewhere far away from this and you.
Cheekbones, weirdly hurt: Ok. Now we just need to find out who he works for. We gotta find the weak link.
Remington Steele Reserve: Well. I can help with that.
And guess what, he sure can! It’s easy as pie for our pal to drop by Accountant/Cop’s work and pick him up for a wee chat with the brothers.
Cheekbones: So, how’d you get pulled into this?
Softie: Oh, probably same as you: greed and weakness!
Accountant/Cop: Got it in one: I’ve got a gambling problem.
Cheekbones: Well this is your chance to get out. I’m going to take over, and you can still get paid, but legally — we’ll make you a security consultant.
Accountant/Cop: Oh, so you’re unhinged.
Cheekbones: No, I’m a pro. And I have a sneaking suspicion that above Mister Maytag, there are others like me. You’re gonna help me find them.
Accountant/Cop: I don’t want to?
Softie: Too bad! You’re already in too deep.
Accountant/Cop: I haven’t done anything illegal?
Cheekbones:
Accountant/Cop: Ugh, fine. But shape up a bit, ok?
Can’t wait to see what those goobers come up with next, but we’ll have to, because first we’re over with Rear Window, who’s getting an interesting call from Walter’s solicitor. Fun fact: he’s just heard from Walter’s niece. His REAL niece.
Next, we check in with Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones, who’s blundering through a weird, stammering “I don’t want to label our relationship” talk with Spin Class Friend.
Spin Class Friend: I’m leaving. Come with me.
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: That’s kind of the opposite of what I just told you I was into?
Spin Class Friend: You deserve to be happy, and you deserve better than Cheekbones.
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: I mean, you don’t know him. You’re not wrong, but you don’t know him.
Spin Class Friend: Actually, I do. I recognized him in the pictures at your house… I don’t actually work for a bank, I just said that because I was embarrassed to tell you I work for a loan shark. Where your husband is a client.
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: Cheekbones?
Spin Class Friend: Yep. He’s in debt, and he owes some really crappy people money. If you’re ever going to leave, now is the time to do it.
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: That can’t be true.
Spin Class Friend: Ask him about Mister Maytag. You’ll have your answer.
While Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones digests that half truth (well, maybe 75% truth? But the 25% that explains why Spin Class Friend befriended her in the first place is kinda critical) Rear Window goes to Walter’s house and tells L’Americain to GTFO: the solicitor knows.
L’Americain: Yeah, ok. Sure he does. Why would I believe you? Don’t worry, I’ll be out of your hair soon.
Rear Window: Seriously, don’t take a chance on this! Oh… I see. You’re into Softie. Well, here’s something you should know about him.
WOW. Look, can’t argue with Rear Window’s logic, but also, if ever there were two characters willing to look past this kind of thing, it’d be L’Americain and Softie; it might still actually work out, bless ‘em. Speaking of Softie, he and Cheekbones are dressed to impress and waiting to meet with someone who’s got an obscenely fancy office. You guessed it, it’s Moneyed Boozehound from last episode.
Cheekbones: We work for Mister Maytag. And, by extension, for you.
Moneyed Boozehound: Ok, so where is Mister Maytag then?
Cheekbones: Look, without him, you could do it better. He doesn’t quite understand what he’s doing, so he went with the simple option: Softie. But that just holds you back. If you go through a hundred businesses, a hundred people who have no idea what’s happening, we can clean so much more money for you.
Moneyed Boozehound: He has a cop.
Me, programmed by the Marvel Cinematic Universe:
Softie, more relevantly: He actually doesn’t.
Cheekbones: How do you think we found you?
Afterwards, outside, Softie has to ask: how did it go?
Cheekbones: It went great. Obviously he can’t say “yes, take over all my money laundering business” but yeah: he’s in.
Softie: So we’re finished?
Cheekbones: Uh, I guess so. Go talk to your girl, and I’ll send you money when it’s all done.
Softie: Great. Bye.
Cheekbones: What, no thank you?
Softie: You kidnapped me. End of story.
Seems like a weird thing to focus on when he also took advantage of you for years, but whatever. Cheekbones heads into the car, meeting a chatty Remington Steele Reserve who a) requests an office, b) shares that he might have earned his wife’s respect back. Awww!
Cheekbones, ruining it: Look, let’s just keep things as they were. And maybe down the line, if you keep up this new good behavior, we can talk about other options. Ok?
Remington Steele Reserve, for some reason: Ok.
Also busy trying to charm unsuspecting people? Rear Window, who’s pretending to Walter’s solicitor that she’s very upset to have been duped by L’Americain, Walter’s fake niece.
Solicitor: Look, I get that you’re upset, but let’s just let the authorities take care of it.
Rear Window: That might not be necessary… I went over to yell at her, and she’s gone. She left the records too, so it kind of all worked out fine. Other than us being embarrassed, of course.
Solicitor: Aha. I see.
Rear Window, flirty: How are you single btw?
Solicitor: I sent everything to the cops this morning. They’ll call you.
Good! Over at Walter’s house, L’Americain and Softie are in the midst of a shouting match about the whole “Softie killed Walter” thing.
L’Americain: You killed him!
Softie: By accident!
L’Americain: I don’t care! I’m leaving. Why did you stay after the wake then, to watch me?
Softie: Cheekbones told me to, but that’s not why I’m here now.
L’Americain: Doesn’t matter. I’m going tomorrow, and you’re going now.
Ready for a marital dispute of a different color? Chez Cheekbones, Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones takes Spin Class Friend’s advice and asks if Cheekbones is in debt.
Cheekbones: No! Why do you ask, anyway?
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: Some guy called the house earlier to talk to you about money… it’s on the paper.
Cheekbones: Oh. This guy? It’s a work thing. Thanks, and sorry — he shouldn’t be calling here.
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: Why are you lying to me?
With impeccable timing, before he can reply, his phone rings, and Cheekbones answers it. Might be important, but boy howdy does that feel like a death sentence for his marriage! It’s Softie calling to ask: who could have told L’Americain the secret?
Cheekbones: Does it matter? What could she do?
Softie: Well she dumped me!
Cheekbones: I meant serious stuff!
Softie: She’s leaving tomorrow, she won’t.
Cheekbones: Great. Better than prison. Just go to bed; it’ll look better in the morning.
Fate is a cruel mistress; things absolutely do not look better in the morning, and in fact, they look a lot worse: there’s been a fire at the record store. No one was hurt, but everything inside is damaged.
Softie: They said it looks like an accident, but obviously it’s not, right?
Cheekbones: No. I’m sure Mister Maytag just wanted to make a point. But look, if this is the worst he does it’s no big deal.
Softie, furious: It’s a huge deal! This is my livelihood! I don’t have insurance, because I didn’t make the payments, which I obviously would have if I knew I was secretly working with a gangster!
Cheekbones: Ok, ok, I’m sorry. But also, you seriously don’t have insurance?
Softie: Why me? Why is he coming for me and not you?
Now that IS a good question, and Cheekbones is sensible enough to know it. So he heads to his office, where he finds just WAY too many shady characters in his waiting room, and Mister Maytag himself sitting behind Cheekbones’ desk. As usual, Cheekbones goes with the “BS my way through it” plan.
Cheekbones: Look, I get that you’re pissed. But you were out of your league! And I had to be honest: burning down the shop only proved that.
Mister Maytag: Thanks for that. So helpful.
Cheekbones: I’m taking over, and I’m going to do it right.
Mister Maytag: No you’re not. You’re the one who’s getting cut out. See, Moneyed Boozehound’s people like loyalty. And they like that a lot more than your flashy business ideas.
Cheekbones: But he agreed with me?
Mister Maytag: Well he was right to. So we’re taking over your business. Have this pocket change as payment.
Cheekbones: You can’t do it without me!
Mister Maytag: Oh, you silly. There are lots of lawyers with lots of secrets in this town. Like that one over there! So just go sign the paperwork he’s preparing, and go live your nice life.
Cheekbones: No. I won’t do that! I’m not giving up everything I’ve ever worked for.
Mister Maytag, having his goon slam Cheekbone’s face into the desk: Yeah, you will.
Cheekbones, later, probably:
Whilst Cheekbones deals with his bleeding face, ruined prospects, and probably starts plotting revenge, Softie throws himself at L’Americain’s feet. Yes, he understands that she doesn’t want to see him, but also, someone did burn down his shop.
L’Americain: WHAT? Who would do that?
Softie: Well, apparently Cheekbones is deep into money laundering, and pulled me in too… except he never told me. Look, I know we started this thing off weird, but I really do care about you, and I’m sorry about what we did to your uncle. I think about it all the time.
L’Americain, guilty: He wasn’t my uncle.
Softie: Well. Kinda feels like we’re even.
L’Americain: Guess so.
Softie: But you’re not staying.
L’Americain: No. But I want you to come with me.
Softie: Ok!
L’Americain: You don’t want to know where?
Softie: Not really — as long as I’m with you.
Awwww. But nothing is quite that simple, obviously. Just then, the doorbell rings, and who should appear but Accountant/Cop’s partner, there, of course, to check out the whole identity theft situation. Across town, Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones shows up at Spin Class Friend’s house: she’s decided (after that lackluster performance from Cheekbones) to leave him and go with Spin Class Friend.
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: But fair warning — I’ve got nothing.
Spin Class Friend: Don’t worry about that.
After what happened over at Walter’s house, I half expect Mister Maytag to appear out of nowhere and ruin the moment, but so far, so good. In the meantime, Remington Steele Reserve goes to Walter’s neighbor’s house (the one with the security camera) and tells him he wants all of the footage. All of it, ya hear!
Remington Steele Reserve: Look, I get it: you’re probably scared of Rear Window. But if you don’t get me what I need I will probably have to talk to someone about the whole malingering thing.
Neighbor: You’re damn right I’m scared of her: she’d kill me if she had to.
Remington Steele Reserve: She won’t. If she messes with you, tell her we’re friends.
Apparently, despite his still horrifyingly bruised face, that does the trick, and Neighbor heads over to his cameras. Meanwhile, at the police station, Cheekbones appears, apparently summoned by Softie to help L’Americain.
Cheekbones: I need all the details. What happened? Is she a witness, or a suspect?
Softie: I don’t know! She’s overstayed her visa, so it’s probably just that. And what happened to your face?
Cheekbones: Never you mind.
Softie: Look, when this is fixed, we’re gonna jet. So I’ll need that cash you mentioned.
Cheekbones: Fun fact: there’s no money. What happened to my face is a good barometer for how that whole thing with Mister Maytag went.
Softie: Are you kidding me? My shop got burned down because of you, and now there’s nothing?
Cheekbones: I said what I said! And anyway, you don’t have it in ya to actually get out of this town. Get over it!
Before they can really get into it, Cheekbones gets called back to meet L’Americain. Once in the room, he tells her to let him do the talking, and not say anything she doesn’t have to say, especially if it puts Cheekbones, Softie, or her in legal trouble (in that order). While they talk with the newly arrived cops, Softie, in the waiting room, gets a text from Remington Steele Reserve, showing a picture from Neighbor’s security camera. It’s a tiny image, so I sure couldn’t tell you what it shows, but whatever it is sends Softie running out of there in a hurry.
And speaking of in a hurry: Spin Class Friend has Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones drive her to an underground garage and wait while she pops inside to deal with something. It’ll just be five minutes! Seems like a classic wishful thinking scenario to me, but I guess we’ll find out. Back at the police station, L’Americain doesn’t waste any time before cheerfully ignoring Cheekbones’ advice. Is she Walter’s niece? Nope!
L’Americain: Look, some old lady paid me to say I was: no clue why. I can tell you where she is though!
Cheekbones, internally:
Cheekbones, out loud: Well, as you can see, my client is cooperating, so why don’t you release her while we sort all this out?
Partner the Cop: Ok, but don’t go far. We’ll have the exhumation done soon.
Cheekbones: The what now?
Partner the Cop: Yeah, the actual niece requested it. Why do you look worried?
L’Americain: I’m not. Never met him.
Partner the Cop: Right. Well, someone’s going to process you, and we’ll take that information about the other woman.
While that’s happening, we find out what Spin Class Friend was up to in her “quick five minute errand” and guess what, it's NOT GOOD. She’s trying to low key steal a bunch of cash from the work safe. The work safe that is owned and operated by not JUST Sleazy Loan Shark, but also Mister Maytag, the notorious gangster. Now of course, half way through her task, someone catches her. Spin Class Friend takes full responsibility, but I don’t want anything bad to happen to her either, so that doesn’t actually make this less scary!
Before we can find out the consequences of her actions, we go back to the lads’ designated meeting bar. Softie, of course, is confused about the footage: it’s supposed to be a fake camera! Who’s got that footage now?
Remington Steele Reserve: Just me. And dude, we shouldn’t let Cheekbones get away with this. It’s his car, he was driving, and you got a taxi back from the wedding: you weren’t even there.
Softie: Uh…
Remington Steele Reserve: Look, I can get you all the evidence you need. The mechanic who fixed the dent. The lab janitor who lost the paint sample. And I’ve got anything that doesn’t help that story sorted out.
Softie, clearly thinking about it: No. Because he might be an ass, but he’s my brother. I’m going to start over, and you should too.
Back at the police station, Cheekbones corners Accountant/Cop and tries to pull him in to fix the situation.
Cheekbones: I need you to get on this case and deal with the exhumation.
Accountant/Cop: Nah, I won’t be doing that. See, I was the one who told Mister Maytag you were trying to cut him out… I’m not your guy. Anyway, good luck, pal!
Across town, in the Crime Central parking garage, Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones finally gets sick of waiting in the car, and reluctantly goes into the office to look for Spin Class Friend. It is eerily quiet, and creepy as hell, and only gets scarier when she runs into Sleazy Loan Shark and Mister Maytag. They both pretend they don’t know Spin Class Friend or, when pressed, Cheekbones, and when Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones keeps asking questions, they try to invite her into first an office and then to exit via the back alley which “kids use to cut through all the time.”
Me, watching as Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones starts walking towards the “alley”:
But alas, go she does, and finds that it leads down some incredibly creepy stone steps and then, thankfully, SHOCKINGLY, outside, where she gets a text from Spin Class Friend that just says “Sorry.” If that text was actually sent by Spin Class Friend, I’ll eat my hat, but I have a sneaking suspicion we’ll never find out. Back at the police station, Softie, Cheekbones, and L’Americain leave, plotting on the way.
Cheekbones: You’re flight’s tonight, right? You guys should go straight to the airport; don’t stop at Walter’s house. And Softie, sorry I was kind of a jerk when I got here this morning. I want you to be happy, and I will get you that money; I owe you. Sorry I can’t drop you off, I gotta get home. Fly safe!
And with that, he scampers off, but not, in L’Americain’s opinion, home. She (correctly) suspects that Cheekbones is headed straight for Rear Window.
Rear Window: Well you look like sh*t.
Cheekbones: YUP. Here’s the deal. The cops are going to come talk to you, and I’m sure you’ll tell them what you told the solicitor. And that’s not going to work, because Walter is being exhumed at the request of his ACTUAL niece, which is bad for me, and, I think, bad for you.
Rear Window: Why would you think that?
Cheekbones: Well, you paid L’Americain to get involved because you wanted the house. And when we put him in there that night, I saw a letter about his cancer. Couldn’t have missed it! Now if I just found him dead in there, I’d have made the same assumption the police did: natural causes. No need for a toxicology report. And that makes me think that maybe that’s what was supposed to happen. I have to wonder what Walter was doing out there in the road in the middle of the night; did you not give him enough?
Rear Window, rattled but refusing to cave: He was in a lot of pain. Enough that he sometimes talked about ending it.
Cheekbones: Well you can try that, and you’ll need to, but that won’t be enough. Not with the bruising and internal injuries.
Rear Window: Then I’ll tell them what I saw: you hit him.
Cheekbones: Well I didn’t. I wasn’t driving. As it happens, I wasn’t there at all. I got drunk at the wedding, and Softie took my keys. Go with that story, and we’ll both get away with it.
Even Rear Window is horrified by that (same, frankly, although I also think I detect a hint of wistfulness that makes me think Cheekbones is planning to secret Softie out of the country before framing him) but perhaps not as much as Softie and L’Americain, who as it happens have listened to this whole conversation from the next room.
L’Americain: We do have more evidence than he does.
Rear Window: He’ll just lie.
Softie: That’ll be hard, he’s made mistakes and enemies this whole time.
Rear Window: Either way, we need to make a plan.
Chez Cheekbones, it’s time for a different kind of confrontation. Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones has all of her husband’s stuff packed up by the door, and informs him that he’s going to leave.
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: I’ve been here by myself for a long time, and I would like to actually enjoy the house. So you can leave and do whatever you want without having to lie about it. It’s over. Bye!
Cheekbones: I can’t lose you.
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones: Yes, you can. Get out, and don’t make this complicated. If you do, who knows what might come out.
Cheekbones: Who have you talked to?
Long-Suffering Lady Cheekbones is maybe even better at half-truths than her soon to be ex-husband: she tells him she went to Crime Central, which is enough for Cheekbones, who obviously doesn’t realize that she didn’t actually talk to anyone there. Finally convinced, Cheekbones grabs his stuff and leaves to go mope in his car. But he can’t mope for long, because he soon gets a call from Softie, who asks him to come back to Walter’s house.
Softie: We should have just called the cops. But we couldn’t, because of you.
Cheekbones: Dude, I have lost everything the last few days.
Softie: You used to look after me when we were kids. After us. I’ve been waiting this whole time for you to become that kid again.
Cheekbones: No, it wasn’t the three of us. You and mum were a team, and she never liked me. I mean it’s fine, I had to be a solo sad sack to succeed. But I still wish I hadn’t sometimes because I do miss parts of my personality. Anyway, you need to get out of here. Go away and be safe and free.
Softie: No. I can’t; I can’t have this hanging over me.
Cheekbones: Please, I’m trying to protect you.
Softie: You stopped protecting me a long time ago.
Cheekbones: I’m sorry.
And then Cheekbones, who thinks his brother is about to turn himself in, starts crying and hugs Softie. It only makes the shock and slow realization of betrayal in his face, as the police take him away, all the more gut-wrenching to watch. It turns out that if you spend a long time treating everyone like crap, they will eventually turn on you, Cheekbones! Everyone’s there to watch him get taken in: Softie, L’Americain, Rear Window, and even Remington Steele Reserve. And as they drive away, Cheekbones’ shock and confusion slowly drains away until he’s smiling. Is he proud of Softie? Relieved to finally air out all his dirty laundry? I’m not sure, but I will say that whatever is about to happen to him is pretty well deserved. And that concludes Guilt Season 1! After all that scheming, I know I’m ready for something a little simpler, and if you are too, we’re in luck: I’ll be back next month recapping Call The Midwife Season 10!
Episode 1 Recap: Your Turn To Drive
Episode 2 Recap: Cold Little Heart
Episode 3 Recap: Speak Softly, Love
