You know what bugs me on TV cop shows – other than when two very obviously gay characters aren’t gay together? When a single woman on a TV cop show comes home alone in the dark and we know even before we know her name that she is doomed to a terrible death by someone lying in wait. It’s sort of the oldest trick in the book when it comes to crime procedurals. For extra special been there, seen that points, there’s usually a scene of the doomed woman looking at herself happily in a mirror right before the killer strikes. And, alas, Rizzoli & Isles chose to start its summer finale with exactly this tired old trope.
It’s morning and a non-single (but unwilling to admit it publicly) Jane Rizzoli barges into Maura Isles’ townhouse. Not a knock, not a slowly open to check if the coast is clear – because even though she stubbornly refuses to give up her own apartment, this is clearly Jane’s home. Though, come to think of it, how long has it been since we’ve seen Jane’s place anyway? I’m pretty sure she’s just renting it out on Airbnb at this point, like I suggested.
Jane tells Maura to hop to it because aforementioned doomed girl is indeed dead. Maura is perplexed she didn’t get to do their trademark tandem “Rizzoli” and “Isles” phone answering routine. Her cell was on silent. Then Jane notices a second coffee mug and assumes it is for her. But alas it’s for Prof. Beard, who is keeping up appearances by pretending to have lost his pants.
Oh, Jane. This is the price you pay for continuing this charade. Sometimes you have to see the beard in a kimono before your first cup of morning coffee. Jane’s face says pretty much all we need to know about her feelings on this situation. Maura scolds Jane for being “a little terse” with Prof. Beard. She replies that, “Men in kimonos make me uncomfortable.” Oh, Janie – men in general make you uncomfortable. Maura corrects her as such, but in a secret girlfriend code which sounds to the outsider like she is correcting Jane’s grammatical use of the word “kimono.”
Jane and Maura arrive at the doomed woman’s place, when Jane realizes the beard mentioned something about an “Allie.” She inquires because Maura’s business is her business, especially any business involving a dude in a kimono. Allie is Jack’s seventh-grade daughter, who is going to shadow Maura for a school project.
This worried Jane because the girl might get bored. Yes, yes – we can all read between the lines. “Bored” means “major boundary issues.” Since when are they meeting the offspring of beards? Maura says she’ll just “vamp” if things get boring/boundary crossing by talking about things that interested her at that age. You know, favorite childhood books and/or the anti-microbial properties of common foods.
Jane gives her girlfriend the, “I love you, you incredible nerd” face and hopes Maura goes the Anne of Green Gables route instead of the broccoli route. Also, all of a sudden I’m envisioning little Jane Rizzoli reading all about Anne Shirley and it is filling my heart with so much joy.
Jane surveys the victim’s apartment and knows immediately the woman is in her twenties. It was the “Starry Night” poster that tipped her off. She complains about the law that says all first apartments must be decorated with the same five posters. And then she bets Maura $20 that the accompanying poster in the bedroom will be Marilyn Monroe on the subway grate. Maura takes the bet because taste is an individual’s preference based on their specific cultural experience.
Bet made, they storm past Korsak to see who wins. Korsak is always in the middle of dead body flirting. But, unlike Senior Criminalist Susie Chang, he knows better than to interrupt.
Because the two rules of life are never start a land war in Asia and never go against a Rizzoli when $20 is at stake, Jane wins the bet. There’s Ms. Monroe in all her white dress glory. Jane demands Maura, “Pay up, baby!” But Maura replies, with a point of her gloved-finger, “Maybe after.” Flirting over dead bodies is one thing, exchanging sexual favors over them is entirely another thing.