Who are the real-world Illuminati ? Find out @ saveanilluminati.com
Hi. I'm Felicia.
Oh. Hi, Felicia. I'm Henry.
Wanna run together?
Only if you can keep up.
Runners, on your marks,
get set,
go!
What?
Hi. Hey!
What the--
Aah!
No, no, no, no, no!
- Oh! - Gosh!
- Aah! - What?
- Don't hit any humans! - I got it, Shawn.
I know what to do.
Get out of my way!
I'm a psychic, damn it!
You do a lot of these things?
- Behind you! - Oh, no. Look out!
What kind of idiot drives down a public pathway?
- Oh, that's my dad. - What?
Hey, dad!
Shawn!
We are gonna catch this son of a bitch or die trying.
Oh! Jeez!
Oh, crap!
Heck of a way to start a holiday weekend.
Crime fighting isn't always tidy, chief.
That is the bargain the citizens make
in exchange for their protection,
and they're fine with it.
Well, not according to the complaints.
They're calling for our heads.
- Who is? - But I'm talking to you.
Will you look-- Look at me!
No, I will not wait here in the lobby.
What the hell kind of Mickey Mouse operation
are you running around here? Karen!
Oh, it's--
So our new mayor has put every city agency on a hot seat.
And after today's debacle,
our butts just got a whole lot warmer.
Hm.
So the mayor's decided to send over
a consultant to hold us accountable.
You cannot be serious.
Who is this consultant?
Mr. Harris Trout.
What kind of name is that?
Look, just be warned.
This is one manipulative S.O.B.
He's the kind that'll use silence as a tactic.
Ugh. Silences make me uncomfortable.
It's all right, Gus.
I'm sure you'll be just--
Don't do that, Shawn.
Who the hell is this Trout to tell me how to do my job?
I'll tell you exactly who I am.
I was a police chief in both Baltimore and Philadelphia.
Before that, I served as an officer
in the city of Newark, eventually rising
to the rank of executive superintendent.
I'm also a consultant on a show called "Badge and Honor."
And I won an Emmy for my episode
called "My Hymie's Homie."
Now one of those things is actually untrue,
but I highly doubt you'll figure out which.
Mr. Trout, it's an honor.
Put it there.
So is Trout a family name or--
Um, I had waffles for breakfast this morning.
Wanna hear my shoulder click?
Let's begin, ladies. Let's begin.
Mm.
Okay. Here's the bad news.
You're fired.
What?
Here's the good news.
You have the chance now to tell me
why you shouldn't be.
I intend to save the taxpayers
millions of dollars by trimming the workforce
into a new model of precision and efficiency.
Why don't you just hire a bunch of robots?
Trust me, I would've,
had the prototype I helped design not malfunctioned.
The Harris-X50 strangled one jaywalker,
and now it's doing tour busses.
I don't know, Mr. Trout. Seems to me
that the department's in pretty good shape.
I mean, over the last seven years we've solved
something in the neighborhood of what,
a hundred homicides?
Wow.
Well, the fact that Santa Barbara is murder central
suggests a major lack of deterrent.
All right? Now we're listening.
Okay, good. In truth, you're kind of a joke.
People love to laugh and be held down and tickled.
So you must be the psychic detective.
Shawn Spencer.
This is my partner Burton Trout.
No relation.
I don't believe in psychics.
Well, I can assure you we're very real,
not unlike the yeti and all of his plaY friends.
Mm, prove yourself to me.
Come on, read me.
Oh, it doesn't--
It doesn't quite work like that, Mr. Trout.
But I guess in your case I can make an exception.
I am sensing that you are approximately 41--
nay, 42 years old.
You are a germaphobe, an obsessive hand washer
and hand wrangler.
You're a big fan of the Dyson Airblade
because of the way it makes you feel in other places.
You hail from Buffalo.
Your favorite sport is basketball.
And you had a golden retriever named Buddy,
that was a very lonely boy's
only friend in the whole wide world.
How does that smell? Like bacon?
Do you believe in psychics now, Mr. Troutman?
No. In fact, even less than I did two minutes ago.
Buffalo and the hand washing thing
could have been derived through observation.
But I got no idea where you got the basketball
or the golden retriever thing.
He watched Air Bud last night.
Speaking of which, director's commentary
on that DVD is absurd.
All he keeps talking about is motif this and subtext that.
And the dog is...
no matter what the question is.
- Dude. - Okay.
Walk me through today's fiasco
and leave nothing out.
Okay.
Guess it started off like any other
run-of-the-mill case.
Gus and I were in the Psych office
reviewing old files.
- I'm clearly winning. - Don't count me out.
- I'm fading.
Guy walks in--
I'm fading like a flower.
Very sweaty, breathing heavy,
quite disgusting.
I need you to help me find a murderer.
Whose murderer?
Mine.
Wow.
I thought you said it was a run-of-the-mill case.
Welcome to Santa Barbara, Mr. Trout.
♪ I know you know that I'm not telling the truth ♪
♪ I know you know they just don't have any proof ♪
♪ embrace the deception ♪
♪ learn how to bend ♪
♪ your worst inhibitions tend to psych you out in the end ♪
7x14 No Trout About It
Sync & corrections by honeybunny Resync for WEB-DL by lost0ne www.addic7ed.com
So a disgusting sweaty man asks you
to find his murderer?
That's correct.
Oh, no, please continue, psychic.
Okay, uh, he said that his name was Leo Quinn
and that he had been poisoned.
My name is Leo Quinn
and I've been poisoned.
- Ooh. - Poisoned?
Gus here thinks he gets poisoned ten times a year.
It's never once been true.
Not yet.
What are you doing?
Man, for all you know, this guy
looks like this every day.
Hey, I-I know I'm no Adonis,
but ten hours ago, I'm a normal, healthy man.
Now look at me.
It's not great.
When I started to feel sick,
I went to the E.R. and got a blood test.
The doctor just called. It's poison.
Mmm.
The doctor said that?
Naturally, Gus and I wanted to confirm this,
so we took him back to the E.R.
He's been exposed to sodium monofloroacetate,
or compound 1080.
It's a highly toxic poison
used for large scale pest control.
Do you believe me now?
What did I tell you?
Doctor, I think I need to be admitted.
It's not contagious.
Will you excuse me, please?
Look, doc, how do you think he got it?
Well, maybe he ingested it or had skin contact.
But it's definitely not something he'd be exposed to
in the normal course of things.
- Ah. - Ah.
Unless someone gave it to him intentionally.
- Oh, God. - So what's the next step?
Do you guys have the antidote here?
Do I get medevac somewhere?
What--what are my chances?
What are our chances, doctor?
It's not contagious.
We'll do everything we can to help you,
but I've never seen anyone survive
this level of toxicity.
And most people succumb within 48 hours.
You're joking, right?
So I really am a dead man?
You should do whatever you can
to get your affairs in order.
I'm sorry.
Mm. Well, that's dramatic.
Anybody eating these donuts?
- Oh, yes. - I'll split one with someone.
- Every last one. - Okay.
Okay, next.
I guess it's fair for me to assume
that you did not follow procedure
and immediately contact the department though, right?
That is where you would be wrong, Mr. Trout.
The first call I made was to the department.
Sorry, sweetie, I have to whisper because
I'm standing near a guy who's gonna be dead very soon.
O-okay, I will.
Smoochy, smooch--
No, you smoochy, smoochy.
No, smoochy to you.
No, I meant a call to report the alleged murder.
Oh. No. No, we didn't do that.
Though in our defense, I must say
when one is facing their own mortality,
you do tend to want to connect with loved ones.
Personally, I'm in between relationships right now.
Dating can be tough. You know, I don't wanna settle.
You know, sometimes being alone is a good thing.
And other times, y-you know, the touch of a woman is--
Gus.
So you two are an item?
For the record, I always thought it was unprofessional.
Oh, you're one to talk.
You married a felon
you helped put in jail.
She's a rehabilitated felon!
Because the system works.
Wait, could we just please stick to the point?
At least I'm not a part-time stripper like McNab.
- McNab's a stripper? - Oh, you were so hammered
at the bachelorette party, you wouldn't remember.
Okay, enough.
Uh, Mr. Spencer, please.
Buh-buh-buh-buh, one sec here.
You guys are practically
writing my next episode of "Badge."
Good stuff here.
Well, this is a crack unit you got here.
You must be very proud of them,
very proud of them.
No, please continue here, please.
All right. Well, as you can imagine,
Leo was very upset.
I can't believe I'm dead.
There's so much I haven't done.
I was gonna learn Mandarin.
I was gonna start yoga.
I was gonna upgrade to Mac,
because all the computers in my office--
Leo, I think you're spiraling a little bit.
- Yeah, I'm entitled. - Leo, think.
Did anyone have it out for you, want you dead?
I'm a small-time lawyer.
I mostly work pro bono.
I'm one of the good guys.
People like me.
No, this is not happening.
- 'Cause I'm fine. - Come.
I feel fine.
He's experiencing denial.
It's one of the five stages of grief.
Five? Wow, you think he has time for all those?
I mean, maybe he should just pick two.
- You can't choose. - Rita!
What am I gonna tell my wife?
She's on a flight
from visiting her mom in Mexico City.
I have to pick her up at the airport.
- Oh, no, no, no. - Leo, come on.
- You're in no shape for that. - The hell I'm not!
I have to tell her in person.
What are you doing? Don't touch me!
What's wrong with you?
- You saw him reach out. - He's poisoned, Shawn.
He is not contagious!
Let's get him up.
He's not contagious.
I'm not trying to die.
We told him that we would pick up Rita.
And when we asked him what she looked like,
he said, "You just go look for an angel."
Safe to say that angel is a relative term.
Just look for a female version of Leo
and we'll be in the ballpark.
Uh, Rita Quinn?
You sure?
There's no shame in it.
Rita Quinn?
I woulda lost money on that.
- Ah, Gus, she's perfect. - Who?
Right there.
- That's a dude, Shawn. - No.
That's Dreyfuss from Jaws.
I'm Rita Quinn.
Uh, not the Rita Quinn we're looking for.
We're looking for a Leo Quinn's wife.
I'm Leo Quinn's wife.
- Excuse me. - Just a moment.
No way, not even on a good hair day
and he's not sick, does Leo pull that.
Love is blind, Shawn.
But she isn't.
No, she's not.
Why the hell are you telling me this part?
I am simply attempting to highlight
our process for you, sir.
Rita asked us who we were and where her husband was.
I'm Shawn Spencer.
This is my partner "Bad News" Marvin Barnes.
I have bad news.
Leo's been poisoned.
He's in the hospital.
He probably won't make it.
Feel free to emote now.
I'm--I'm shocked.
I don't know what to say.
Maybe you wanna go see him?
Yeah, you know, comfort him.
Of course. Yes, we'll go see him.
Let's go see him.
So we took Rita to see Leo.
Oh.
Dude, there were no airline tags on her bag.
Oh, God.
- And, dude-- - Yeah.
Yeah.
Obviously I was skeptical
of the stupidly hot latina
married to the travelocity gnome.
I was also sensing papers, non-U.S. issue.
Certificado del birth.
And a name, Vasquez.
Rita, someday you will
go to the Americas and marry a white man.
See, Rita Vasquez--
Married Leo Quinn for citizenship,
and now she was gonna off him
to upgrade at the husband position, right?
- "Jes" and "jes". - All right.
And I was pretty damn sure she hadn't been
- to Mexico City either. - Why's that?
Because my senses never lie, Mr. Trout,
and neither do my hips.
Hello.
- Hello? - Hi.
Is this the Vasquez residence?
Yes.
May I please be having speaks
with Marga-Rita?
This is her father.
Rita hasn't been here in almost two years.
Who is this?
You see, Rita was suspect numero one.
And when we found out she had gone home
to collect Leo's things, we paid her a surprise visit.
After you contacted the police, right?
- Most definitely. - You never contacted us.
- I left a message. - With who?
With Jeff Mormen... son
Officer Mormenson.
He's brand-new, you don't know him.
I never got that message. What's his name?
Mormenson? Did you get the message?
Jesus, Lassiter, you're killing me here, man.
Oh, that message, of course.
Rita?
- Gus? - Yeah?
Things officially just got hairy.
- Just got hairy? - Santa Barbara style.
Why? Because I don't believe you.
Because you can't be trusted.
No, because you're a liar.
You're a liar.
Okay. I should probably
start doing the talking now.
Spencer's already out on his ass,
and I still got a pension to fight for.
What about me? I have to distance myself from this.
I'm the girlfriend. No offense.
Hm? I wasn't listening.
What am I doing here?
No you-- no, you raised your voice.
Look, no one is losing their job over this.
His bark is much worse than his bite.
No. No, no, no.
You are on your own now, okay?
Don't ever call me again.
Mothers.
Anyway. So where were we?
So you find the poison guy's sexy wife shot dead.
Now was this finally enough to compel you
to call the police?
You know, perhaps I should take over now,
seeing how I was the senior officer on duty.
At this juncture, the consultant
notified the police department of a possible 187.
I traveled to the scene to examine the 419.
I procured entrance to the residence
where I took over control of the crime scene
from the backup, which was already on site.
Looks like we've got
50 shades of grey... matter.
That's not even remotely how it went down.
Nope.
I am telling the story now.
All right. Stand down, Caruso.
- Keep going. - Okay.
We opened Rita's suitcase.
That is one sexy book club.
It's just books and panties.
It's a burner, totally untraceable.
The only people who use these things
are low-life criminals like drug dealers,
terrorists, and people with subpar credit.
Let me see what sordidness is on the voice mail.
Look what I found in her closet.
There's more, all in the original packaging,
and these clothes with store tags still on them.
Rita had some sticky fingers.
And exquisite taste.
Listen to this.
Hey, babe. It's Chuck.
Missing you already.
- Who's Chuck? - Not Leo--
that's who Chuck is.
Meanwhile, we had to deliver the news
of Rita's untimely death to poor Leo.
She was the most wonderful woman on earth.
I'll be with you soon, senorita.
Uh, now may be a good time to ask about payment.
- You are the devil. - First of all, Shawn,
the devil is white.
Look, Leo, we spent some time with Rita, okay?
Sure, she filled out that dress nicely.
What?
But what aren't you telling us, man?
Look, Rita had her problems--
iffy friends, shoplifting--
but I rehabilitated her.
She loved me.
Mm.
Maybe not as much as he thought.
Why do you keep whispering?
- It's very rude. - Is it?
Well, the clock is ticking, Leo.
You want us to find your killer before you die?
Then give us something, man.
Give us something we can use.
That's it. My life is-- was normal.
The only thing out of the ordinary
is a couple days ago local police called
to say that my office had been broken into,
but nothing was taken.
You didn't think that was something worth sharing?
I didn't think it was a big deal.
Besides, they said it was probably just some kids.
Well, guess what.
We're gonna check that out.
So give us an address.
No, no, I'll-- I'll take you myself.
- What? - Come on, Leo. That's sloppy.
Just stay in bed.
I'm not gonna get any sicker!
Please don't make me spend my last
precious moments in an E.R.
All right.
He actually had a decent point,
so we convinced the doctor to give him
some pretty intense pain medication.
Shame on you, man.
Shame on me?
And we all went to his office.
Hey, I got tons of stuff here.
Nobody stole anything.
I made that. I'm a "Duran-y."
Rio is my favorite song of all time.
- It's pure poetry. - It's really not.
Now if had said, uh, Hungry Like the Wolf,
View To A Kill, well, even The Reflex,
you would have had an argument, but--
- Shawn, let the man have this. - No.
No.
Whoa, I am sensing that someone
tried to access this filing cabinet.
Why? It's just people's records.
There's n--
What?
Talk to me, Goose.
Oh, my God. Mrs. Lauderbach.
Mrs. Lauder--what?
My one wealthy client,
I had a duplicate of her safe deposit key taped here.
It's gone.
What's in the safety deposit box?
10 million in flawless, gem quality diamonds.
So Quinn had the power of attorney
over Lauderbach's account?
But the key was useless on its own.
You had to get a bank employee to use their key
in conjunction with Lauderbach's to open the box.
Oh.
I can't even begin to apologize, Mrs. Lauderbach.
Oh, it's not your fault.
You're a good boy, Leo.
So what, you just let anyone with a key
waltz in here and steal an old woman's
hard earned diamonds?
That's impossible.
We keep a log of anyone who accesses these boxes.
See? No one on Mrs. Lauderbach's behalf
or anyone associated with her estate
has come to access her box recently,
or it would've been recorded.
Do you think we could get a look
at your security tapes?
Right there, pause.
Can you blow it up?
Who the hell's that?
I'm sensing that it is a V. Manus.
That's right.
Victor Manus is the owner of box number 27.
But Manus was a fraud-- a fake person.
The only Victor Manus listed in any database
- was dead by 1923. - Hm.
And what did you make--
I'm sorry. Hold on a second.
Damn it. I said stop calling me!
Drive yourself, ma. Drive yourself.
You have a license! I'm wor--
She hung up.
So what did you make of that?
What did we make of it?
That someone posing as Victor Manus
acquired the safety deposit box
next to Mrs. Lauderbach's.
He signed the log.
He went into the safety deposit room.
He acted as though he was gonna open box 27,
but then he slipped his little tiny key into box 26.
But you said you needed two keys.
I mean, there must've been an accomplice here.
That's right, Mr. Trout.
And his name was Charles Sax--
bank employee that we learned
quit his job one day later.
Charles Sax was very likely "Chuck,"
the man who left the amorous voice mail
on Rita's machine.
So we believe that Sax and Rita were--
Were having an affair.
So Rita got so sick of being stuck
with poor, pathetic Leo that she takes up with Sax
and they hatch a plot to rip off the old broad, right?
But the joke's on Rita when Sax and Manus
kill her and keep the diamonds for themselves.
And just to be safe, these two criminal masterminds
neutralized Leo, eliminating
all possible trails to themselves.
Scumbag 101. Class dismissed.
Pleasure to watch you work, sir.
So we tracked down Sax.
He was the only name we knew.
He wasn't at his residence.
He didn't work at the bank anymore.
But I had a pretty good sense of where to find him.
So, we left Leo in Gus's car.
He needed to relax.
Let me go with you.
Uh, you stay here.
You've been brave enough for one day, soldier.
He can't die there, Shawn.
It's a company car.
I once left a half-eaten sandwich in there
and I caught hell for it.
Don't die.
I'll try.
- Hi, there. - Hello.
We're looking for Sax.
Excuse me?
Do you have a Charles Sax registered here?
Um, no Charles Sax.
Charlie. No, Chuck.
No. I bet you it's Chaz. Chaz Sax.
No. No Sax of any kind.
This is a monumental waste of time.
Let's go.
How about a Victor Manus?
Yes, we do have a Victor.
He is in room 312.
I sensed that Victor Manus
was the gang's go-to alias.
I sensed the exact same thing.
That is a bald-faced lie.
You're a bald-faced lie.
Keep going.
Housekeeping.
Hello, Chuck.
Um, hello.
Where's Manus?
If that's his real name.
It wasn't my idea.
I'm just a guy who works at a bank.
Bathroom's clear.
There's nowhere to go but down.
I-I know where Manus is.
I'll tell you his real name.
I could have been smoking these my whole life.
Nice.
So keep goin'.
Uh, so we've got two dead bodies
and one more circling the drain.
How close are we to the part
where you guys turn 10K into a bad episode of Chips?
First of all, there are no bad episodes of Chips.
What about the one where Ponch was plagued with bad luck
after they pulled over a van full of black cats?
That was character enrichment, Gus.
- Mm, no. - Let me speed this along.
After Sax got shot, we took Leo
back to the hospital because Gus was afraid
his car was going to smell like dead dude.
No, I wanted to get Leo some more pain meds.
Liar.
The poison specifically targets the liver,
which is the reason for the yellow eye discoloration.
Oh, man, Leo.
I need you to do two things.
See that I'm cremated.
I don't want people to see me like this.
And catch the person that did this to me.
Hey.
You have our word.
Not contagious.
It was late,
so we stopped for a quick dinner.
- Thank you very much. - Cheers.
Oh, what?
Then we went home, slept for just a few hours,
met bright and early the next morning
for a quick breakfast.
- Just come here. - There it is.
All right. We'll see ya.
Then we started tracking down our suspect.
Okay, the moustache man posing as Manus
who killed Rita Quinn and Charles Sax
because he didn't wanna split the diamonds.
Spot on again, sir.
Look, your butt-kissing is chapping my ass.
- Cut it out, detective. - Yes, sir.
Um, we believed that if we discovered
Victor Manus's true identity, then we also--
Uh. Hold on a second, cupcake.
Wait a minute.
Oh, that's good.
All right, so go ahead.
Um, if--if we find his true identity,
then we would find the killer
and also the diamonds.
So Shawn and I went back to Leo
to try to find a new lead.
Leo?
But alas, we were too late.
I'm sorry.
He just passed away.
- What? - We were devastated...
Did he, by chance, leave any money
or a check addressed to psych?
For different reasons of course.
Do you think that's what Jesus would ask right now?
Yes, because he needed money for sandals.
- Uh, I don't believe so. - Man.
But look, we'll run an autopsy
just to confirm the diagnosis.
But, uh, I have no doubts.
I'm sorry.
But the next day we got a call
from the local mortician, and it turns out
good ol' Leo left us a little something.
Here you go.
Hot out of the oven.
- Hm. His ashes? - Yup.
12 ounces of disgusting cindered ginger dead dude.
He asked us to sprinkle
those ashes off Stearns Wharf.
It's the only Jewish wharf in all of Santa Barbara,
so it felt like the very least we could do.
Okay, so you stopped your investigation to do this?
Of course not. That would have been completely irresponsible.
No, we put it in the back of my car.
We were planning on doing it later.
That's right. But then...
something happened.
- Don't even tell me. - No.
Oh, crap!
No!
Oh, my--
you said it was cake mix!
- No, I never said-- - Yes, you did!
You said you and Gus were gonna go home
and you were gonna make homemade Twinkies!
Okay, now you're just making stuff up, sweetie.
- Rubbish. - Son of a bitch!
Hey.
Oh, Carlton!
Carlton, let him go! Carlton!
- Gus, get him off of me! - Are you crazy?
He's covered in dead dude, Shawn.
That's enough!
You guys are behaving like my nephews
Noah, Ryder, and Stephan.
And I hate my nephews!
And if you met them, you'd hate them to!
And that would make a lot more sense.
- Continue. - Okay.
So, in addition to the ashes,
Leo also left us a few of his random personal items
and a note addressed to the two of us.
It turned out to be pretty invaluable.
Shawn and Gus, don't see yourselves
as failures for not finding my killer.
The fact that I feel that way is irrelevant
because I am dead now.
What are you-- what are you doing?
Trying to recoup some of the money he owes us.
What, by stealing his stapler?
These things are worth 2 bucks on eBay, Shawn.
It's weird and sad that you know that.
Just know that I have total faith
that you'll catch them and you'll dispose of my ashes
in the respectful manner that I requested.
Electric pencil sharpener. Cha-ching.
I just wish I'd given you more to go on.
So as I lay here writing my final words,
a name comes to mind that I feel
may be worth looking into.
It's a former client
by the name of Curtis Stanzen.
Got it. Got it.
What's his deal?
Whoa. He has quite the arrest record, huh?
Assault, burglary, possession,
and of course--
Identity fraud.
So we grabbed a healthy snack,
and we shared our totally awesome lead
with Lassie and Jules.
This is a B.S. lead.
One more lick at that thing and your tongue
is going to be permanently green.
And it's 100% worth it.
If you two children are ready,
let's get this boondoggle under way.
Lassie, you know Stanzen
is a supplier of counterfeit I.D.s.
He could be our link to Victor Manus.
This is no boondoggle.
What's a boondoggle?
S.B.P.D.!
- Can you use it in a sentence? - Of course I can.
Is it one part baboon and one part puggle?
Oh, what is that noise?
Oh, that is a lawn mower,
or possibly a go-kart with a lawn mower engine.
It's a motorcycle!
- It's a motorcycle. - Son of a bitch!
What are you doing?
You just--
you idiot!
- Oh! - Gosh!
Gus, I don't think this lid is sealed.
Look out!
- Aah! - Oh, crap!
- I know this part. - Right.
So the cars collide, smashy, smashy.
We all get out.
You son of a--
Where'd you learn how to drive?
- Sweetie! - What is this stuff?
It's cake--cake mix.
Oh.
- Sweetie, I did say that. - Mm-hmm.
You son of a bitch.
Spencer, continue telling the story or I'm gonna
blast you like a friggin' wayward tugboat.
- Don't play me. - Okay. That's fair.
We were all afraid that Stanzen had escaped,
but then we realized something.
Uh-oh.
Get up, Stanzen!
Get up!
He's dead.
Oh, crap.
Looks like he's our Man... us.
I guess the crash killed him.
Whoa.
With a little bit poison called WD40.
- Compound 1080. - I've heard it both ways.
- No, you haven't. - You know what's
even more tired than me saying "I've heard it both ways"?
- Me saying "No, you haven't"? - That's right.
Agree to disagree.
It's a diagnosis that is confirmed
by the toxicology report.
Apparently it is estimated that the poison
had been in his system for over 36 hours.
Hm. So your theory that the killer
was a fellow heist member no longer holds water.
Why? 'Cause they're all dead.
Well, we actually believe that there's
a fourth member that hadn't been accounted for.
Hm. That's fascinating.
So who do you surmise this person might be?
Any ideas?
I'll go around the room. Anyone?
How about you, Magic Mike?
I actually dance by the name "Morningwood."
Of course you do.
Morningwood.
- Get him out of here. - Okay, look.
In my officers' defense, it's kinda hard
to find suspects when they've been
answering questions in a room all day.
You know what? I have to concur with the chief here.
While we are sitting here giving you a play-by-play,
the killer could be halfway to Tanzania.
Holy crap!
I know who the killer is.
So who's the killer then?
The bank manager? Mrs. Lauderbach?
- The snow cone guy? - Desk clerk at the hotel?
You guys are forgetting someone.
Maybe it was my mom, Sherlock.
She's a squirrelly little bat.
Judas Priest, man.
Just tell us who it is.
He was right in front of us the whole damn time.
Quinn? I thought he was dead.
So did I. My senses, however, weren't so sure.
And then, the chief put this very close to my face.
It tells us two things.
One, Curtis Stanzen bore a striking resemblance
to Kyle Bornheimer.
Two, he showed all the telltale symptoms
of Blink 182 poisoning.
- Compound 1080. - Exactly.
So what's your point, Spencer?
The point is, Leo didn't,
meaning he was just pretending to be poisoned.
And why would he do that?
Because no one looks for a dead man.
Wait, wait, wait.
Could someone just please back us up a bit?
My pleasure, chief.
You see, Leo was stuck in a crap job
with a philandering, but smoking hot wife.
So he hatched the following plan.
Use Rita's special friend,
Charles Sax from the bank,
to break into his office and steal Mrs. Lauderbach's key,
thus absolving Leo of any future guilt.
Then he had Sax and Stanzen steal the diamonds.
But this is Leo, he's miserable.
His wife bangs everybody.
He wants the diamonds for himself.
He feels like he deserves them,
but if he runs off, his partners are gonna chase him.
If he kills his partners, the cops are gonna get him.
So with the help of Dr. Umma--
Umma, who I will get to in a minute--
he made it appear as if he had been poisoned.
Then he hires us to further the ruse
and inform his coconspirators that they may be in danger too.
By killing Rita, he's got Sax and Stanzen
so freaked out that each of 'em are trying to kill the other.
Well, we know Stanzen beat Sax to that punch.
Now Leo only has one more heist member to eliminate.
- Stanzen? - Correct.
But he got that ball rolling 36 hours earlier
when he slipped him a little P90X.
Compound 1080.
I don't know why I'm having so much trouble with that.
It's a little silly.
Anyway--
Stay in your own lane.
Don't worry about what I'm doing.
Okay. Leo's got two things left to do.
One, stage his own death.
Two, get rid of the last guy he owes money to--
Dr. Umma.
So he killed two birds.
Now that he had double-crossed Umma--Umma--
along with everyone else,
he was free to go live anywhere he wanted
as a rich dead man.
Leaving us to look for a fourth member
that doesn't exist.
It's pretty genius when you think about it.
But I don't think we should sit around here
thinking about it, 'cause I have
a pretty good idea where he is.
Thanks, chief.
All right, no one is going anywhere,
because I'm suspending all of you
from this investigation.
What? - Okay, all right.
I get it.
Your job is to come down here, squeeze some grapes,
ruffle some feathers. You did it.
Why are you gonna suspend us?
I mean, on what grounds?
Essentially, you assisted
in the plan of a murdering thief.
Oh, come on. Even you yourself didn't know it was Quinn.
You know why? Because my head was spinning
from the rampant disregard for procedure
and the jaw-dropping unprofessionalism.
Examples: Interoffice dating,
desecration of human remains,
choking a fellow officer.
- Man-stripping. - And man-stripping.
- Gus! - The silence kills me.
Ugh. So we're just gonna let Quinn go?
No, I'm appointing Officer Dobson lead on the case,
- effective immediately. - Dobson?
He doesn't know anything about it.
- Plus, he's lazy. - Oh, really?
Here's another fact.
Tonight, I'm delivering a scathing report
to the mayor on this crap omelet
you guys call a department, and then
I'm out of this melanoma factory first thing in the A.M.
Copy?
Till then, you're all suspended.
Chief, you can't just let this happen.
I'm sorry, but my hands are tied.
So I guess there's nothing we can do.
Yep, absolutely nothing.
Dr. Richard Umma, please come to the front desk.
Dr. Richard Umma.
Well, hello, doctor.
You'll be pleased to know
that you've been upgraded today.
- To prison. - Remember Oz?
It's just like that.
Except there is no wizard.
How'd you know?
Well, for starters, you chose
a destination straight out of your favorite song.
Rio, which is the name of a girl in the song,
not the actual place.
And secondly, you forgot to remove
a teeny thing from the doctor's body
before you rolled him into the morgue.
His hearing aid.
His hearing aid, Leo!
Jig's up, man.
- Guess it is. - Guess it is.
Oh!
They always run.
- Jig is up, Quinn. - Stop saying that.
Oh, man, I must've smashed into a dirty tray
back at that lounge.
I got ketchup all over me.
We're covered in human ash.
It's not a competition, Jules.
Uh-oh.
All right. Let's take our medicine.
You just stay strong, okay?
I got it, Shawn.
Back to work.
Oh, my God.
I thought for sure one of us was getting fired.
Chief?
- I got a six-month suspension. - No!
Could've been a lot worse.
That is so unfair.
We're the ones who ignored the order.
Which is exactly what I was hoping
that you would do.
Look, I'm not going to pretend
that I run the tightest department.
In fact, it's often a circus,
but I stand by the results.
So when it comes to pissing off a bureaucrat
or going out and catching the bad guys,
I will choose the latter every time,
so do not worry.
This is a sword I'm happy to fall on.
I'm gonna miss you, man.
And I, you... on occasion.
No, just--
Now, if you'll excuse me,
I get to pick up my daughter from school
for the first time in six months.
Hey, Morningfart.
I want her office cleared out immediately please,
and clear out your own too.
You're also fired.
But I don't have an office.
Fantastic.
Then grab your bow tie and your thong
and hit the bricks.
Hey, Trout, I wanna get something off my chest.
That's a job for the world's strongest waxer, isn't it?
You just suspended the greatest chief of police
in this city's history.
Which spans what, 50 years?
Okay, look, we know you don't like it here.
But guess what. The feeling is mutual.
'Cause you waltz in here acting like
you fix problems, when in reality
you're the one causing them by getting in the way
of hardworking police officers like us.
And semi-hardworking psychics
and their black partners.
Who also sell pharmaceuticals on the side,
Mr. Sandman.
So why don't you just shuffle on back to Buffalo
knowing that the only people you've helped here
are the criminals.
And, if you're wondering who ate
the rest of your balance bar,
look no further than this...
because it was me.
♪ Suck it ♪
Well, that was good to know.
But I have news for all of you. I'm staying.
And you know why?
Because you're the new interim chief of police.
Correct, effective immediately.
It'll be a pleasure working with you, sir.
This doesn't make any sense.
I mean, you-- you hate it here.
I do, but I hate it everywhere.
Listen, I don't want you guys to worry.
I'm not gonna make any drastic changes...
other than the fact that we'll no longer
be hiring psychics
and you're no longer head detective.
And I'm painting these walls.
♪ Suck it ♪
He sang our song.
It's on now.
Sync & corrections by honeybunny Resync for WEB-DL by lost0ne www.addic7ed.com
Who are the real-world Illuminati ? Find out @ saveanilluminati.com