So explain to me again what we're doing here
as opposed to doing anything else in the world.
We're paying respects to a man
who dedicated his life to working with the police department, Shawn.
Oh, please. You don't know Jim.
- Hey guys. When's the pinata coming out? - Hey.
I don't think there is one.
- A pinata... - Oh.
Well, I was told this was a party.
Okay, as fun as this is, I think I'm gonna skip.
No, you're leaving?
- What about Jim? - I don't even know Jim.
Plus, I have to work on the D.A.'s case.
Lassiter and I have to testify in court tomorrow.
- Lassiter's still here. - Lassiter is sleeping.
You want me to come with you? Please say yes.
Uh, hold up there.
Looks like I might be needing a wingman.
Oh, my God.
You don't care about Jim Dubois.
You disgust me. You make me sick to my face.
I have a girlfriend. She's standing right here.
- It's true. I am. - Oh, they're both for me.
You don't have enough game for half of one of those women.
Please. I got game.
- Have fun. - Yeah.
All right, that's it.
- What are you doing? - Getting this party started.
Excuse me, ladies and gentlemen!
Can I have your attention for a moment, please?
Damn it, Jim.
You had a long career, my man,
perhaps the longest of all time.
You touched us all right here,
a little bit up here...
Just a teeny-weeny bit—
Shawn.
And you put away a bunch of bad guys at the same time...
He worked a desk job. He never fired his weapon.
With your bare hands in your off hours.
And now, Jim, you can ride off into the sunset,
spend some quality time with your mom here.
That is his wife.
To Jim! Damn it.
To Jim.
Hey, bartender, how about a round of shots...
On the department?
Gus?
Gus!
What? What?
I'm ready. Let's go. What?
What?
Man, I think we slept here.
What happened last night?
Strangely, I have no idea.
Wait.
Nothing— weird, disjointed.
My finger-to-eyebrow device is broken.
That's never happened to me before.
- My memory is completely blank. - Shawn...
Why is there a shower cap on your head?
I'm sure there's a very easy explanation for this.
Is there an easy explanation
as to why you're sandals that aren't yours?
Where are my Nikes?
And why are you wearing a gold chain, Shawn?
Huh.
Oh, dear lord, please tell me this is a dream.
Calm down, peaches.
Come back to bed.
Whatever you think happened last night didn't happen,
because nothing happened. You got it?
That's nice, Lassie. Way to belittle the man.
Yeah, detective, I-I do have feelings.
What is all over your face?
Eh, I can't be sure.
Oh, God.
Y-y-you didn't see a small Colombian
with a hook for an arm, did you?
- No. - No?
Why do you have a black eye?
Okay, there's nothing to freak out about.
Everybody relax.
It's not a big deal. It's just a small shiner.
Lassie's absolutely right.
His lovers' spat with Woody is really none of our business.
- I should call my wife. - No.
- Oh, we don't keep secrets. - Nobody's calling anybody!
Uh-oh.
My baby!
Son—
it's missing three bullets.
I can tell by the weight. It's three light.
It's been fired.
Uh, shouldn't someone start freaking out right now?
Wait a minute. What's this?
Looks like I made some sort of video last night.
You know who this guy is right here?
- You know who he is. - This guy right here.
I have no idea. Shawn?
I told you, I'm broken.
I got nothing. Stugots.
How is it all of us cannot remember a single thing
from last night?
Strobe. Right.
Just got told to come back to the office.
It's urgent.
I just got the same call.
Where's my keys?
I don't see my car out there.
My Ford Fusion is missing.
Now can we all start freaking out?
- Aah! - Everyone relax!
We'll take the Blueberry.
And we will ride calmly, eloquently,
and professionally, like gentlemen.
Hmm.
Nice parking job, Guster.
How do you even know he was driving?
Okay, if no one else is gonna freak out,
then I will.
Oh, my gosh!
Do you see my car?
My car!
It's just a minor ding, buddy.
You can only see it
because the sun's hitting it at that angle.
Isn't that right, Woody?
I don't feel right inside.
Oh, my gosh! Oh, God!
I can't believe this! Oh, my gosh! Oh, my gosh!
Do you see my car? Do you see my car?
Okay, we have a male John Doe, Caucasian,
40s—
Detective Lassiter, why are you wearing sunglasses
at an autopsy?
- I, um... - Chief, if I may...
Lassie spoke to us all about a week ago
about wearing sunglasses to all autopsies
moving forward to show respect for the dead.
I simply forgot, and Gus refused,
because he has no value for human life.
Body was dredged
from the water near Arroyo Beach late this morning—
shot three times.
It's missing three bullets. I can tell by the weight.
Uh, how many times?
Three. Why?
Hmm.
Sync & corrected by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com
So, anytime a John Doe rolls in,
it becomes a top priority.
Someone out there murdered this person,
and without an identity,
we have no clues to go on.
But it's our responsibility to get to the bottom of this
and bring the perp in and bring them to justice.
Now, I want to start with any open missing-persons cases
that the vic's identity might match.
Now, on site,
floating near the vicinity of the body,
C.S.I. was able to pull out only these few items.
We have a watch, an empty wallet,
and a pair of shoes,
which are not even the victim's correct size.
Now, I'd like all hands on deck for this,
but because you and O'Hara are due to testify
in court in four hours—
Oh, you know, that's okay, chief.
O'Hara can go. I don't need to be there.
She was actually the one who was going to testify.
I was just going to lend my presence for the jury.
- Seriously? - Dead serious.
Yes. No.
I mean, yes, there is a dead man here,
and it is tragic, awful, but I can handle it.
Plus, I've got Shawn and Gus to help.
I'm sorry. You're requesting to work with Shawn and Gus?
What is going on? And please take those sunglasses off.
You put some sunglasses on!
Why would I put sunglasses on?
Okay, look, um, he's actually right, O'Hara.
Let's let these guys run with this,
and then you can just join up after you testify.
Uh, Woody? Let's get to work.
- Shawn? - Hmm?
A word.
What the hell was going on in there?
I was about to ask you the same thing—you seem grumps.
- I'm not grumps. - Who's grumps?
Shawn, I didn't get any sleep last night.
Aren't you gonna say anything
about the phone call you made to me?
- It's—it's kind of a huge deal. - Phone call?
Yes, of course, obviously, it is huge, isn't it?
Does Gus know about this?
Why—why wouldn't he?
Something of this magnitude— it's huge.
And we need to talk about it,
but wouldn't you agree I should get back in there right now?
Okay. All right, yes. Yes, but, Shawn...
- Let's talk. - Yes, let's, and soon.
This is big. This is a game changer for everyone.
Game changer.
Talk soon.
What the hell happened last night?
- Are those doors shut? - Yeah.
Okay...
I think I'm gonna turn myself in.
What, for spooning with Woody?
We did nothing wrong.
Look, guys, we have some
of the finest crime-solving minds in the world
right here in this room.
And I think you bought us a few hours
to figure out what happened here
before we go sounding off any alarms.
Lassie, I need you to look inwards.
Take a swim in lake you.
See what you see. We can do this.
Spencer, I can't survive without the facts.
Don't know what happened last night.
I never lost control of my faculties in my life.
Me neither.
Unless I'm being tickled— then all bets are off.
What about me, fellas?
I'm not having any psychic visions,
flashbacks, or re-creation flashbacks,
or re-creation flashbacks with new psychic visions.
I mean, imagine you weren't just
a bland, gangly, average human, huh?
That you could wink at someone and—and light up their world,
that you could make a child think
that you have given them an ice cream cone
without giving them the cone
and then watch them skip off into a beautiful meadow,
licking nothing but air!
Imagine that!
Imagine that you have a special gift,
a sixth sense, and then someone or something comes along
and rips it away from you!
Imagine that, Jack!
Do you see me giving up?
Okay, Shawn.
Okay.
Damn it, I cannot believe I am saying this,
but, men, we are in this together.
- Obviously we knew the victim. - Well, we all knew the victim,
but you are the one who shot him.
You had the dead guy's phone.
Shawn was wearing the man's sandals.
Huh. I was hoping you guys didn't notice that.
Look, I don't care if we did kill this guy.
I'm just happy to be a part of it.
Do not touch me again. Guster, give me your phone.
- It's evidence. - I need my phone.
I'm the only one here with a day job.
I need it for work.
I am in charge and calling the shots.
It is evidence. Put it in.
Fine.
All right, fine. You can hang on to the phone.
But it never comes out of the bag—do you understand?
Got it.
There's only one thing we should do at this point.
We all have to pee into a cup.
Amen.
That is an excellent idea. I couldn't agree more.
There's obviously only one reason
that none of us remember what happened last night.
- We were drugged. - That is also a possibility.
Hey, I'll run some tests, see what turns up.
Yes, I will hold. Just tell him to hurry up.
Do you remember me calling Jules last night?
- You called Juliet last night? - Apparently.
You don't think I told her about Lassie shooting his gun, do you?
I certainly hope not.
- Well, take a look at it. - I need you to get down there
and pretend like you're tying your shoe.
I'm not doing that. You do it.
- I don't have any laces. - So?
So what am supposed to tie—your face?
Fine.
McNab, finally. Put your listening ears on.
I need you to put out an official A.P.B.
on a black Ford Fusion.
Yes, I'm aware that I drive a black Ford Fusion.
McNab, would you just do what I ask you, please?
No, I am not.
I-I don't remember the license plate off the top of my head.
Thank you.
Why is it always so difficult with you?
No.
I don't really want to go to lunch today.
Rain check.
I'm sensing that our victim was some kind of stalker.
- Stalker? - Yeah, I get a vision, uh...
Of a blond woman—attractive in a soccer mom sort of way,
kind of Teri Garr-esque.
Okay...
First off, I didn't realize
peyote stayed in your system that many years.
I have only myself
and my then-girlfriend, lollipop, to blame.
Secondly, Guster, your cholesterol is really high.
Man, I told you eating something called
"stick o' butter in a bun" was a bad idea.
I can't help it, Shawn. My body craves buttery goodness.
- You are buttery. - You know that's right.
Act natural.
All right, now, here's the skinny.
We all had copious amounts
of salvia divinorum in our system.
That's a psychoactive herb
that can cause hallucinations and "disassociative" effects.
We were all drugged at that bar.
- I knew it. - However...
our victim had no trace of the drug at all—he was clean.
Why would someone spike our drink but not his?
Well, clearly someone
was trying to take advantage of us sexually,
or at least me.
Not last night, Lassie.
Or in this last decade.
I am sensing that we were the recipients of drugs
that were intended for a pair of women.
All right, let's hit that bar.
Yeah, let's shake them down.
What? No shakedown?
Carlton Lassiter, S.B.P.D.
I got some hard questions. I need some straight answers.
Has anyone turned in some Ford Fusion keys
or actually the Ford Fusion itself?
- No. - Damn it.
Hey, man, you recognize that guy?
Uh, yeah. Yeah, he was here last night.
Um, but why are you guys asking me?
I mean, you were best friends with the dude—
buying him drinks all night.
Uh, I wasn't buying
some sandal-wearing white guy a bunch of drinks, okay?
That's not me.
This guy was sucking back soda water and limes.
Aha. That's why he didn't have drugs in his system.
You know, I'm really starting to like this cop stuff.
When are we gonna plant some evidence on this guy?
- Stop breathing on my neck. - That's just how I breathe.
Would you—would you give me some personal space?
I will give you whatever you need.
I'm getting something. I'm seeing a guy—
like, a—he's like a Swedish version of Jon Cryer—
long blond hair,
earring, completely different bone structure, though,
and very short—small man.
Yeah, I know who that is.
- You do? - Yeah, he does.
Yeah, that's Mikey. He's my partner.
- Mikey! - Mikey?
Yeah. You, baby Thor.
It was you. You were the one
that was trying to pick up on those girls last night.
You tried to spike their drinks,
and you accidentally drugged ours.
Yeah, I don't— I don't think, uh, Mikey here
was trolling for women.
Oh.
Hmm. Yeah. So much for that vision.
It's all right, Spencer. I got this.
- No, Lassie— - Would you let me do my job?
So, partners, huh?
You guys own this place together?
Um, no.
- No, Lassie— - Shh!
What, you got a little side business going, huh?
- Lassie— - What? What?
They're a couple, man. They're together.
He's not our suspect, because they're lovers in the nighttime.
He can't quit him.
Oh. Oh.
Just so you know, me and this guy—
- We spooned last night. - Okay.
Yeah.
I'm gonna look for my keys.
- I'll help. - Oh, good lord.
Excuse me.
I think I left my credit card here last night.
- Oh, my God. - Oh, my gosh.
Mm.
I told you you wouldn't stay away from me.
- You and I? - Yeah, but then you took off.
Don't do that again.
Now, what are you doing for the rest of the day?
Give me one second.
- Two baby ones maybe. - Okay.
- Hurry back. - I will.
"Last night Gus" had some serious game.
I'll be damned. I think I owe you an apology.
I'm gonna bounce, Shawn.
I'm gonna bounce, bounce, bounce...
Bounce, bounce, bounce, bounce.
No! No, we're in the middle of an investigation.
I don't care. I don't care. I don't care.
- Come on, bounce, bounce, bounce. - A man died!
Fine.
I really, really, really want to take off right now,
but my friends and I are in an investigation of sorts.
An investigation? Hmm.
- Sounds sexy. - It is.
Well, why don't you give me your phone?
- And I'll put my digits in it. - All seven of them?
Guster, what did I say?
Oh.
I'm sorry. I can't let anyone touch this right now.
It's evidence in our case. It's kind of a big deal—
- You know, sexy. - Uh-huh.
Let me put it in.
Through the plastic?
Sure. Yeah.
All right. It's 805...
I got it! Everybody, I got it.
It's—it's good. This is—
- What are you doing? - Looking for my keys.
Those things are expensive to replace.
Double good news—
I know where we went when we left the bar last night.
And, uh, Woody, you don't have a cocaine problem.
Shawn, right now I'm missing an opportunity
to capitalize on "last night Gus'" game,
which I told you I had.
Well, "today Gus" is a whiny baby.
We're here for a case,
and it's not solving the mystery of your darkened loins.
This is it—
- A freakin' doughnut shop? - Stay with me, Lassie.
These doughnuts have something to do with our case,
I promise you that.
- Ow! - Move.
Jesus.
Oh, I'm sensing this guy's
gonna help us fill in some blanks.
Oh, no, no, no, no, not you guys again.
- Uh-uh, no way. - Told you.
Look, I already told you, made it perfectly clear,
I don't know that woman.
Well, I'm sensing that you do know that woman,
that she was here.
You two were face-to-face.
What, are you psychic?
- Yes, he is. - No, he's not.
Okay, fine. She was here, like, two days ago,
but she just bought some bear claws.
I didn't sleep with her.
We asked you if you slept with her?
Come on, look at me.
Does it look like I'm going around
trying to bed a bunch of blond desperate-housewife types?
Like that's my thing, 'cause they can't get enough of this?
I'm drawn to you in a weird sort of way.
Maybe they recognize you from Children of the Corn.
Maybe they know you from The Cosby Show, Bud.
- I'm not Bud. - Did we ask you anything else?
Uh, no, you were too busy
trying on everybody else's shoes.
And then the angry one stole my doughnut hat.
Why's he looking at me? I'm not the angry guy.
You are pretty angry.
Our victim wasn't a stalker.
He wasn't following the woman because he was into her.
He was on a case. He was hired to do so.
- He was on the job? - He was a private investigator.
That's probably why we befriended him.
We were helping him.
I'm pretty sure I was hooking up at the time—what?
No, that makes total sense.
It's a simple snap-and-shoot adultery case.
I can solve that in my sleep.
Yeah, we were helping him look for the woman.
- We were feeling generous. - That's what it was.
I had the munchies. I should poop.
Are we allowed to take a bathroom break?
I should've gone at the bar.
You owe me $31, 'cause you licked the sugar
off all the powdered doughnuts like a weird sicko.
Oh.
Oh, this is good. This feels good.
This is gre—
We finally have a handle on what happened last night.
Hey! You killed Bobo!
Or there could still be
a few details floating around out there.
Okay, just take it easy. Nobody killed anybody.
Actually, Lassie, you— you might have killed someone.
- Shh! - Bobo's dead.
- Shh. - And you're gonna pay.
Who the hell is Bobo?
Oh, come on.
I'm head detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department.
You better have some very serious evidence
if you're gonna accuse me of vandalism like that.
Come on, Lassie! Come on! Oh!
- You're idiots. - It's almost cool.
There, see? I didn't kill anybody.
- You son of a bitch! - Back up.
That jerk took us out!
Uh, uh, not so fast.
Son of a bitch.
So that's how Lassie got the black eye.
Bobo.
I am sorry for your loss.
- Hello? - Guten Tag.
There's been another body.
I just got verified on Twitter.
- Oh, that's nice, man. - Yeah. Thanks.
Okay, here we are again.
This is Scott Williams, age 44,
Caucasian, found dead in his car off of Santa Viego Drive.
That's right down the block from Bobo's Donuts.
What bearing does that have, Mr. Guster?
Fun fact.
Gus is making a book of them.
Is that the same guy that punched Lassie?
Yes, it is.
Lacerations on the victim's knuckles
indicate he may have been involved
in a physical altercation prior to his death.
I can do a skin test.
Now, if those knuckles made contact with someone's face,
we will find DNA in the cuts.
- Woody! - Or not.
Or not. DNA is, uh...
Hardly conclusive...
Really sketchy at best.
Woody, what can you tell us?
Based on skin color and blood coagulation,
I'd say this guy's been dead for no more than nine hours.
I'd put his T.O.D. somewhere between 1:45 and 2:30.
Throw out another fun fact.
Why would I do that?
- Just do it. - Fine.
- Chief Vick... - Mm-hmm.
Did you know that more people are killed by donkeys annually
than die in air crashes?
I am sensing that our John Doe from this morning
and Mr. Williams here are connected.
I think they knew each other.
Okay. Well, that is at least a lead.
Uh, detective Lassiter, O'Hara is back on the case.
- You two should— - Terrific.
You two should follow Mr. Spencer's scent
over to Mr. Williams' residence, okay?
All right, let's do it.
- Not you, Shawn. - Okay.
Don't we have to talk about last night?
Yes.
I mean, you—you drop this huge, shocking information
over the phone,
and then you just expect me to keep it a secret?
I'm sorry. I don't—I did—I just—
I don't want you to worry about it, you know?
I'm trying to take care of this thing myself.
Well, it's not just about you, Shawn.
It's about us.
I mean, we're in this together, and we have to trust each other.
Okay, great. You're so right.
I just—we've been dancing around this thing all day.
No one will just, you know, come out with it.
I think we should lay it all on the line,
let the cards fall where they may,
even if it destroys lives in the process.
You asked me to move in with you.
Lassie killed Williams.
Lassiter killed Williams?
Move in?
We—we've only been together for, like, four months.
Again, Lassiter killed this man?
I don't think he did, not anymore.
I'll explain on the way. We have to get to his house.
Wait. So all of that happened last night?
How could you keep that from me?
Which one of these houses is Teri Hatcher's?
I'm not keeping stuff from you.
I just don't remember what happened.
I expect someone to come around every corner,
saying, "not you again."
Don't do it, ma'am. Please don't.
So, if you technically don't remember asking me,
do you still want to move in?
What, are you kidding me? Of course I do.
Of course. Why else would I be shrink-wrapping
all my old sweaters to make room in the closet for yours?
I just think you like to shrink-wrap things.
That's true. It's fun to watch things shrink.
She just texted me again.
She can't get enough of me.
I just want to know what line "last night Gus" laid on her.
I need "last night" Gus, Shawn.
Man, I've got my own problems.
"Last night Shawn" was all evolved and mature
and not a commitment-phobe.
"Today Shawn" is very much a commitment-phobe.
All right, we're dealing with a single guy, possibly a loner.
Dobson, you start shaking down all his coworkers.
I want this place dusted and processed in the next hour.
Let's go!
All right, there is no way a straight, single guy
picked out those drapes.
I like those drapes, Shawn. They're stately.
Okay, how many guys you know that pee sitting down?
I pee sitting down, Shawn.
All the men's health journals
say it's better for your circulation.
Remember when we talked about inside voice?
I'm using my inside voice.
Okay, now it's time to learn about no voice.
All right...
You cannot possibly tell me that you keep potpourri
in your underwear drawer.
There was a woman here.
Williams does not live alone.
Look what I found in the trash.
Somebody put their fist through this picture.
I'll be damned.
That blond is the woman in the photos on the phone.
She's Williams' wife.
He hired the P.I. to find evidence of her cheating.
She found out he was doing this...
And she killed them both.
If this is true, then we are dealing
with one cold-blooded killer.
We better find her before more bodies start piling up.
This was way easier when we thought Lassie was the murderer.
I'm just saying.
Tom Wopat's office.
Dad, just calm down.
Shawn, I don't know why I'm here, but I woke up
in some strange motel room...
T-that I apparently trashed.
Oh, man, I screwed up really bad.
Is it the Suncrest Motel?
Yes. Yes, it is.
How'd you know that?
And then the angry guy stole my doughnut hat.
Oh, man, I-I know— I know what happened.
You were with us last night. Tell me, do you, uh—
do you see a doughnut hat laying around anywhere there?
Wha—
- Yes, I do. - Oh, my God.
Dad, you're the angry one.
"Blond, 5'7", 125 pounds."
Shawn, oh, I think I ordered up a lady of the night.
Dad, that's the woman the private eye was tailing.
We must've landed there because we thought she was showing up.
What—what— what private eye?
I'll explain when I get there.
Shawn...
I'm not wearing any pants.
Dad, sit tight.
Shawn, come alone.
I have a very strong vision
about another place we may have been last night!
This one does not involve food,
so please bring snacks if you are peckish.
I just want to get home
and forget this whole thing ever happened.
Yeah, after we go to the front desk and pay for that towel.
I'm not gonna be an accomplice to your petty theft.
- I— - Hey. Whoa, hey.
I told you to come alone.
Look, dad, we're very close to solving this thing, okay?
We need them.
Carlton, Gus, Juliet.
What the hell happened to you?
Huh? Oh, oh, uh, Shawn called me up
and told me you guys were working on a case,
tying up some loose ends, so I, uh—
I decided to rush down here.
Oh, hell with it. Screw it.
I guess I slept here last night.
Wait a minute. You were here, too?
Wait. You weren't in Gus' car with us.
- Who drove you here? - I know who.
Shawn, are you getting a vision?
It's not exactly a vision.
Uh...
I don't want to be here anymore.
I guess I was in no condition to drive.
- Do you even know Jim? - Jim who?
You guys again.
Oh, Christ.
- Whoa. - You owe me 480 bucks.
- What? - That—
that is not a flotation device.
All right, you know what? This is getting ridiculous.
I am head detective of the Santa Barbara Police Department.
We were here last night
on an official police investigation,
and I hardly think we were pulling juvenile stunts.
I have security video,
if you'd like to watch it for yourself.
- You said 480, right? - Yeah.
That broad you were waiting for last night—
She finally showed up this morning.
In fact, she might still be here.
- She never checked out. - Can you lead us to her room?
Can you give me the check?
- What is this? - Shawn.
Sorry.
Whoever she was having the affair with
was here with her.
Oh, my God.
Everybody get out of here!
Take cover!
Aah!
Does someone want to explain to me
what the hell happened last night?
Okay, I just want to go on record
and say that I was on that couch first.
I don't even know what that's supposed to mean.
Whoa. E-excuse me. May I help you?
My beef ain't with you, lady.
I need to talk to these two cats right here.
- Mother of God. - It's Ed Lover.
Mr. Spencer, what is Ed Lover doing in my office?
I guess your mother never taught you
about taking another grown-ass man's bling.
- Wait. That's your bling? - This is my brand, player.
Dude, you took Ed Lover's bling?
I don't remember doing it. I swear.
Come on, son, you know damn well you swiped my ultra brite
while I was on the dance floor getting my freak on.
Who the hell is Ed Lover?
- Come on, son. - Come on, son.
I apologize for my dad's life.
Shawn and I are huge fans, Mr. Ed Lover,
in case we didn't mention it last night.
Huh? I should whip both of your narrow asses.
Wasted half of my day tracking you down.
Come on, son!
Get the "f" out of here with that bull.
Did that—was he—
What a night.
What a night!
Okay, please tell me
that that is gonna be the last interruption.
Now, people—
What's up, baby?
Listen, Mr. Guster, we're all happy that you can manage
to captivate the honeys or whatever it is,
but right now you are on my time.
Can you hold on one sec?
Actually, chief, I'm on my time.
I almost lost my life an hour ago,
and I'm sick of it.
"Last night Gus" had it right.
And I don't want to sit here wasting another moment
when I could be living the life I was meant to live—
ballin' and shot-callin'.
So, if you don't mind, I'm gonna keep it one hundy
and take this call.
- Buddy— - Sorry, Shawn.
It's hard out there for a pimp.
It's true, chief. He's got to make money for the rent.
I am not even gonna bring up
the destruction of Bobo the doughnut man.
Uh, chief, if I may...
In lieu of flowers,
donations can be made to glazedforlife.com.
- Ow! Ooh! - I'll get you.
- Stop it! - I will destroy you.
This is not a joke...
Mr. Spencer!
That explosion was meant to kill,
and the killer is still out there.
And, Henry Spencer, where are your pants?
I'm not entirely sure, Karen.
Her name is Gloria Williams, chief,
and she couldn't have gotten far.
We have contacted every transportation agency
in an effort to slow her down.
And what are we doing still sitting here?
And then it hit me—
the calculated way in which these murders were committed,
the fire-bomb ambush at the motel,
the fact that Gloria Williams has managed to disappear
without a trace.
This does not fit the profile
of your typical suburban housewife.
I am so bored.
Now, we've been concentrating on her.
But I don't think she's capable of this.
We should be focusing on the men
that she was in the photographs with.
One of them could be our killer.
We can eliminate the doughnut guy.
- He sold her some doughnuts. - That's the hotel manager.
So we know he was photographed when she was checking in.
Valet, grocery bagger,
hair stylist...
- Who's that guy? - Whoa. Hold up.
I can't help it, Shawn. My body craves buttery goodness.
- We need to see Dwayne. - Who's Dwayne?
Dwayne, my man, we just don't see enough of you.
That's because nobody ever utilizes my skill set.
They forget about me... Literally.
They locked me in here over the holiday weekend.
I survived on the moisture of my desk cactus
- and girl scout cookies. - My God, that's horrible.
- I know. - Spencer...
- Why are we here? - Oh, right.
Okay, here we go.
We're gonna lose the cleft chin on the guy in the cafe.
Thank you, sir.
Uh, now let's get rid of his wrinkles
on the face and the neck there.
Perfect.
Now we want to take the long hair
and the beard and mustache off the mug shot.
Ladies and gentlemen and Dwayne,
I give you Mr. Leroy Jenkins!
Holy crap.
This guy's responsible
for over 37 armed robberies throughout the southwest.
He killed several security guards.
Nobody's gotten a picture of this guy in the last 25 years.
He's remained absolutely invisible.
Jenkins wasn't worried about the repercussions
of sleeping with a married woman,
but some low-grade private eye
that might have pictures of him on his phone—
Now, that could expose his whereabouts.
Wait a minute. Everyone just wait a minute.
You're telling me that one of the most wanted guys
in the state is gonna walk right into a bar full of cops
and try to get a cell phone.
I'm sensing he had a partner.
Pull up his "Most Wanted" page.
All right, stats, aliases— nothing.
Wait. Next of kin—
Blow that up.
His only known relative—
an adopted daughter, Lilly Jenkins.
That's the girl.
That's the girl from the bar last night
that Gus supposedly hooked up with,
only younger and cuter and less murderer-y.
Oh, man, that means "last night Gus"
did not have the game he thought he did.
Where's Guster now?
Well...
Here's the crib.
Nothing too fancy, you know, just the basics—
couch, brand-new 46-inch plasma,
me.
So he sent his daughter into the bar
to get the phone and the pictures from the private eye.
She wasn't planning on befriending a bunch of cops,
so she drugged us to get to the P.I. alone.
Got him alone. He had Gus' phone.
And then she thought that Gus had the private eye's phone
that had all the pictures on it.
That's why she's been trying to hook up with him all day.
Wait a minute. Who's car are we taking?
Hmm.
- Mm. - Mm.
Mm.
Mm, mm, mm.
Mm-hmm-hmm.
To the beginning of something...
we should've done last night.
- There it is. - Hmm.
I can't believe Gus
was so careless to fall for some girl's hustle.
Look, Jules, I don't think anyone
should be held accountable for anything they said last night,
whether it was murdering people or just speaking out of turn.
So you're telling me you're convinced
that the daughter killed these two men?
No, I can see the confrontation with the P.I.
it didn't go well.
Lilly had to call in her father to do her dirty work.
The husband, Scott Williams, he knew about the photos,
so he had to go, too.
You—
you know what I like about you?
- Hmm? - You have eyes.
Yes, I do.
- Two of them. - Two of them, yes.
Mm.
Will you excuse me to freshen up?
Sure.
Hmm.
Mm.
Hello, friend.
Hello.
You're a tough little fella to track down.
Wiping.
- Wiping. - Without your friends,
I don't think you're gonna be giving me any trouble now,
are you?
I have just one question for you.
- What's that? - Where's the phone?
- Where is the phone?
- Where's the phone?
Whoa, whoa, whoa! Do you not see the lights?
Hey, boss, isn't that your Ford Fusion?
You're the bartender. You son of a bitch.
McNab, go, go, go.
- Carlton! - I will kill you!
I know your face!
Stop repeating everything I'm saying.
You're not getting it, are you?
I have a gun pointed at your head,
and I will shoot you unless you give me that phone.
Can I squish your face?
- He will shoot you. - He's gonna shoot you?
No, you.
Wow. You were in the bathroom for a really long time.
Drop the gun, Jenkins!
Easy.
- Don't shoot Gus! - Then tell him to take cover!
Gus, take cover, buddy!
Oh, my God.
Somebody shot that guy's TV.
That's your TV!
What? This dude has Taffy!
I love Taffy!
Gus, this guy is trying to kill us.
He is bad!
We are good!
Good job, buddy.
Uh... This dude has a gun.
Yes, he does—a big one.
Look, don't drown them. Just powder them, okay?
- Good. - Donald...
Do you like to samba?
What the hell's wrong with this guy?
Don't even think about licking that.
It's not really gender-specific, is it?
No.
You know...
As much as this pains me deeply to say...
- Thank you. - For what?
Well, for helping us get through this whole ordeal
and also for believing that I didn't kill someone.
Gus was pretty sure you did kill someone.
I still am.
Don't worry, Lassie.
You'll kill someone someday.
Now, come on, let's spoon it out.
Come on, we'll make it right, half moon style.
Oh, this is not gonna be easy with Jules.
Any chance you can, uh, channel "last night Gus,"
- tell me how to handle this? - Please.
It turns out "last night Gus" is very similar to "today Gus."
- I'm not ready. - I understand.
You just have to be man enough
to tell her you want to live alone.
It's that simple.
- You're right. - I know.
- You tell her. - Come on, son.
- Get out of here with that bull. - All right.
All right.
- 100 bucks. - Shawn.
Right.
Hey.
Hi.
Okay, so, listen, I-I've been doing a lot of thinking
- about our conversation. - Me too.
- You have? - Of course.
Look, I don't want the future us
to be dictated by something that "last night Shawn" said.
So, if you can look me in the eye
and tell me that "today Shawn" definitely wants to move in...
- That's what I thought. - No, no, no.
- I was—I was about to say yes. - No, you weren't.
I was. I was just— I was gonna use an accent,
and I was waffling between...
Scottish...
And Gaelic.
And the differences are very subtle.
It's fine.
The fact that any version of Shawn wanted to move in is...
Minty?
I was gonna say "romantic."
Really?
So you're not terribly disappointed in me.
Look, I'm just saying that it doesn't have to happen
right now, today.
Does that make sense?
- I understand. - Okay.
- You're an incredible slob. - Oh.
A hoarder, right?
I bet you—that you just live
amidst stacks and stacks of periodicals
and—and taxidermy.
Is that what you're trying to tell me?
You were ready to move in with me.
Oh, I don't know about that.
Maybe "last night Shawn" has more in common
with "today Shawn" than "today Shawn" thinks.
- What? - Don't—don't judge me.
I'm not judging.
You have a stuffed meerkat in your home.
What?
And you don't use toilet paper.
Oh, okay, well, you can give me some of yours.
That's all you have.
Sync & corrected by honeybunny www.addic7ed.com