I had, briefly, considered just typing out the script word-for-word for tonight’s episode. Because tonight, Rizzles lovers, the line between subtext and maintext became so irreversibly blurred that it’s almost just a straight-up recap. Almost. Well, at least in my head. Well, always in my head. And away we go.
The Rizzoli-Isles family is all at the dinner table together, because where else would they be? It’s a farewell to Tommy and I think I can safely say from all of us gay ladies – don’t let that door that hit you in the ass on the way out, chess boy. Mama Rizzoli is all proud of her 32-year-old ex-con son for cutting up celery and broccoli. Elder siblings Frankie and Jane are somewhat less impressed, they’re apparently saving their “good job, gold star” faces for when he does something truly impressive like peel a banana or tie his shoes.
Jane wants to see his new place – always the big sister and wanting to check stuff out – but Tommy says they can’t come until he has the money to get the lights turned on. So, um, he is moving into his new apartment without electricity? I can see why your mother is so proud. Maura tells him she’d be happy to co-sign the lease and Jane and Frankie simultaneous blurt out “No!” I love how Frankie knows what’s what. He’s like, if I’m going to be an in-law to Dr. Isles, I want to be an in-law to the good sibling, not the one living alone in a dark apartment.
Later, as Maura is doing the dishes, Tommy emerges all “Hey, girl, hey. My sister’s not here anymore to kick my ass, right? Because I want to ‘talk.’” And then the moment all lesbians have been dreading is upon us. He says he’s going to miss their chess matches, gives her an expensive bottle of wine (which is apparently where his electrical bill money went) and says it’s rare like Maura. Then he leans in for a kiss.
Before we can scream, “Bad Maura! Wrong Rizzoli!” she stops him mid-pucker with a gentle yet very firm, “Whoa.” And then simply says, “I should finish these dishes.” When a lady would rather get dish-pan hands than lock lips with you, dude, that’s pretty much the definition of denied. Also that’s pretty much the definition of every gay lady I know. So, well, there’s that.
Back in crime land, a pair of bank robbers in creepy old guy masks are robbing a bank and shoot and kill the manager on their way out. Det. Rizzoli arrives on scene to find Frost outside, pacing. She asks him why he isn’t where the action is and he says the FBI has taken over. Jane is like FBI, Schmefbi – I shot a guy thought my own stomach and swaggers inside.
She asks a female agent for the person in charge and lo and behold, it’s her – Special Agent Anna Farrell (played by Veronica Mars alum Tessa Thompson). They have a chuckle at the whole “girl running the task force” automatic sexist assumption thing, but then Farrell attempts to crime-scene block Jane citing bungled police work in another department. Jane reassures her Boston homicide is the real deal, and they have what appears to be mutual admiration eye sex. I’d be a little jealous for Maura, but women with authority and guns giving each other professional respect is kinda hot.
Maura is examining the dead bank manager’s body and comments on his belly fat. That’s our Dr. Isles, always thinking of the deceased’s cholesterol levels. Frost finally comes in to deliver some news about a partial license plate for the getaway van. He gives the eye cold shoulder to Farrell, and it gets so chilly in the room everyone grabs a sweater.