Thanks to his buddy Pete Strickland’s bit of B&E, Perry is on the hook for hiding the murder weapon, and agrees to a four-month prison sentence in exchange for being able to see the case to its conclusion. Both his partner, Della, and his girlfriend, Ginny Aimes, will be waiting for him when he gets out, but he’s clearly concerned his young son won’t be so understanding.
Our old pal Holcomb, the crooked cop who worked with Brooks, decides to beat a retreat from the casino-boat business, torching the ship with a Molotov cocktail using his own black tie for a wick.
The times being what they are, Ham, Della and Anita still have to live in the closet; Anita looks on smilingly as Ham and Della pose as a happy couple for the public.
But before that, Della confronts Camilla, a woman she once greatly admired, about her rampant criminality: the murder, the extortion, the smuggling, all the ugly things beneath her glittering surface of power, glamour and sophistication — the monster behind the mask. As the FBI approaches, Camilla promises Della they’ll meet again. As with Milligan, Team Perry has made a potentially formidable enemy.
And Team “Perry” has made an indisputably formidable show. It’s true that this season was less dark and psychologically rich than its predecessor, with its themes of religion and infanticide. But it’s really no less successful a work of art on its own terms. With its murderers’ row of a cast — a hugely enjoyable performance seems to have been waiting around every corner Perry Mason turned — and its sordid, surprising and frequently sexy story from the new showrunners Jack Amiel and Michael Begler, it is a period crime drama done right.
It’s a dual mystery: More than just a question of whodunit and why, “Perry Mason” entices the viewer with the riddle of the title character. How can a damage case with a melancholic temperament save himself, much less anyone else?
