03x03 - Frozen Assets

[bunniefuu]

Thank you guys for helping me take my mom out for breakfast.

It's kind of weird that she can't leave rehab without the police.

Hey, if my mom drinks or uses again, do they kick her out of A.A.?

If they kicked everybody out who fell off the wagon, trust me, those meetings would get really small.

Look, kid, seeing how your mom is coming up on two months and hearing how she wants to stay in recovery, I think she said a lot of the right things.

My philosophy in life... Stay positive!

Ok, then.

Thinking positive, I-I should get a job.

How does that relate?

What does it matter?

Jobs build character.

Did I ever tell you about my first job?

Cabin boy on the Mayflower? [Scoffs]

Oh, no... Dishwasher at the Last Supper.

[Chuckles]

Laugh it up. Laugh it up.

But I grew up in the... Uh, in the '60s.

Those were the days, my friends.

[Cellphone rings]

Yeah. Provenza.

Man: Lieutenant Provenza?

Captain Baird, west L.A.

How you doing, Louie?

You sound a little down.

Well, you know, no worse than usual.

Uh, what can I do for you, Captain Baird?

Well, we may have a m*rder at 1050 South Mapleton...

Very pricy part of town.

Could you check it out for us?

1050 south Mapleton.

Yes, sir. We're on it.

Wait. So, just like that, we turn around?

Well, Captain Baird gives us orders, we follow them, even if we can't quite remember who he is at the moment.

And your first name is Louie?

Unless you outrank me or I divorced you, my first name is Lieutenant.

Take a left up here, Flynn.

I know a shortcut.

[Birds chirping]

Okay, no crime-scene tape, no patrol.

Where's the rollout?

Maybe they got frightened off by the landscaping.

[Chuckles] Look. It's trigger.

Man: Hey, guys, thanks for getting here so quickly!

Captain Baird?

That's that d*ck Tracy lunatic.

I thought he was in a mental institution.

What's going on? Who is that guy?

Some nutcase who likes to impersonate cops.

Back up, Flynn. I am not dealing with this guy again.

All right, hold on. Maybe there's trouble.

No, no, no. F-Flynn, do not roll down that window.

F-Flynn, do not lean your head out there.

Flynn, I am ordering you not to let him talk to us!

Lieutenant Provenza, you're looking well.

Damn it!

Glad I held on to your number.

Lieutenant Flynn. Good morning, young man.

Captain Baird, chief of security, Brewster Estate.

Guys, this is sad, but we got a body here... 13-year-old male.

It's one of the worst murders I've ever seen.

[Car door opens]

This had better not be another of your delusions.

No, no, no, no. Don't worry, Louie.

I-I'm not d*ck Tracy anymore.

I'm just plain, old Captain Jonathan Baird.

A very important part of my therapy has been embracing my real name.

Anyway, hop in. I'll take you to the victim.

Wait in the car.

Rusty: No problem.

I'm not gonna be a witness in another m*rder trial.

That's for sure.

[Mechanical whirring]

None of these are the real statue of "David."

But you have to admit... Good likenesses.

I put the swimsuits on the ones around the pool myself.

Normally, driving by all this art...

The sculptures, the stuffed animals, the neon...

Lifts my spirits, but not today.

Not today.

All right, gentlemen, here we are, the end of a very sad ride.

Are you telling me... that you called us out here for a dead dog?

Well, he's not just dead.

He's a m*rder victim, and it happened recently, too.

Look. He's still in rigor, okay?

And where he threw up, the vomit has not all dried away yet.

Hey, guys, guys, guys, guys, that dog... Falcon... He's in the news.

This is the $20 million doghouse.

Hold on a minute.

That's the Maltese that some crazy lady made the heir to her estate.

She had some family shipping fortune.

What's her name?

Marcella Brewster.

And I have reason to believe that Marcella and Falcon d*ed the same way.

And I can prove it.

Uh... looks like the search party's back.

One moment, guys.

It's the worst part of the job.

Oh, I'm getting a little worried, captain.

We've looked all through the neighborhood, and we can't find Falcon anywhere.

Thank you, Mr. Kleiner.

I appreciate your help and the efforts of everyone who's gathered to find our little guy and bring him safely home.

Unfortunately, it is my sad duty to inform you that, at approximately 10:15 A.M., I discovered our beloved Falcon beneath a row of succulents, dead under suspicious circumstances.

Now, I know that this was not the hoped-for outcome, but the police are here to investigate.

I thank you all for your sympathy and support, and I know you'll understand if I don't see you out.

Oh, we're... We're so sorry for your loss.

I took care of him some when Marcella used to travel, and Falcon was a... a... a... a... a...

[Stammers] ...a v... a very good dog.

He was.

Thank you for that, Mr. Kleiner.

Did this Marcella Brewster have any living relatives?

A great-niece and a great-nephew, but Falcon was her real family.

Ever since Marcella d*ed, that poor dog has had one shock after another...

Death threats online and in the mail.

And I was hired to protect him.

And I let Falcon down.

So, for me, this just got personal.

Mnh-mnh-mnh.

Okay, here's what I think happened.

Now, by the end, Marcella was so sick, she could only eat eggs and imported crab cakes, dozens of which are left over in the freezer.

Now, when we ran out of fresh venison last night, I served Falcon a thawed-out crab cake.

He ate half of it, okay?

And then he went out through this doggy door to do his business, and he never came back.

Well, w-wait a minute.

Are you suggesting that whoever k*lled this dog also m*rder*d Marcella Brewster?

No, no, no, no, no. I k*lled the dog.

Okay. That's it. Turn around.

Hands behind your back.

What? Why?

Shut up. Just...

What are you doing?!

Come on. Let's go.

I called you guys!

You wouldn't know anything about this except for me!

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait. Let me explain.

Yes, I k*lled the dog, yes, but the m*rder*r is whoever poisoned the crab cakes.

What am I under arrest for, anyway?

So far, impersonating a police officer, animal cruelty, and we haven't even spoken yet ab...

Taylor: Hold on.

Hold on a minute.

Let's all take a giant step back.

Flynn, Provenza, is it true you guys dragged this security guard off Marcella Brewster's estate and left her dead dog behind in the bushes?

Baird: Yes!

No.

We brought the little fella back with us.

In an actual doggy bag.

We also have one half-eaten crab cake, a freezer full of frozen ones, and more than a little canine vomit.

Do you realize how much Marcella Brewster left the LAPD memorial fund?

Millions... annually!

And now her attorneys are threatening to cut off those funds because you brutalized her security guard.

Uncuff him. Now!

Ha!

Sanchez: Chief, maybe something you don't know...

This security guard is d*ck Tracy.

Last time we ran into d*ck, he pretended to be a homicide detective, left the scene of a m*rder with crucial evidence, and impersonated Flynn, Provenza, and chief Pope.

Very successfully, I might add.

I've read the file on that case, and it says Mr. Baird here...

Let's use his real name.

Mr. Baird helped the LAPD solve a m*rder.

Oh, come on!

Don't tell me you believe what's in that file!

Sharon: Lieutenant Provenza, are you saying that this prior case report involving Mr. Baird was falsified?

Falsified?

It wasn't... falsified.

There's some wording issues... maybe.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

What wording issues?

I wrote every syllable of that report with a meticulous attention to detail.

You wrote the LAPD report?

Taylor: Hold on!

Instead of rehashing the past, let's thank Mr. Baird for bringing to our attention a possible m*rder, follow up on his claims, and I will officially apologize for any misunderstandings.

And I forgive you. Come on. Come on.

Yes. And I forgive you.

Hmm? Okay?

[Grunts]

And you.

Captain, get this m*rder done right because I have no intention of allowing our memorial fund to lose Brewster's millions.

Excuse me.

All right, Mr. Baird... Let's start over.

Since this is now a m*rder investigation, we hope you can give us some of the relevant details.

Of course. Ask me anything.

When did you start working for Ms. Brewster?

Uh... gosh.

See, that I can't say.

Excuse me?

Yeah, I'm forbidden from talking about my boss...

Confidentiality agreement, ironclad, sorry.

Ms. Brewster's dead, so who's your current employer?

[Sighs] Again, that's a big no-no.

You don't know who pays you for living in a mansion and not taking very good care of a dog?

Whoa. Hey, that hurts.

You know, listening to him brings back memories.

And my confidentiality agreement immediately

transferred to my new employer...

Really horrible memories.

The moment that Ms. Brewster was declared dead.

You had to talk to him.

And I can tell you everything I did for Falcon, or we can talk about my duties at the estate, like turning on the giant neon lights at night, brushing the stuffed horses...

But you can't say for whom.

That is correct.

And listen, I am every bit as irritated by this situation as you are because I possess information that could be vital to moving your investigation forward.

If only we could...

Guess the proper line of inquiry?

What is this, 20 questions?

Okay, well, what were some of your other duties around the house?

No. You're cold... Very cold.

How often did you take the dog out for a walk?

Colder. Icy, even, just... brr-rr-rr!

Okay, if this was a job, how did you get paid?

Oh!

Hot! Scorching hot!

I would even say that you are right on the money.

Okay, so, that crab cake that d*ck Tracy fed the dog, sir, was sh*t through with arsenic.

Crap. d*ck was telling the truth about Falcon.

Just hold on. Arsenic?

Well, where's the old lace?

W-who uses arsenic in this day and age?

I'll call the coroner's office, sir, get them started on exhuming Ms. Brewster's body.

Ah, I think it's too late for that.

Ms. Brewster was cremated immediately after death.

"Marcella Brewster.

You can't take it with you, so I'm coming back for it."

How are we going to prove arsenic poisoning with this?

Check my checks, crimestoppers.

The case will practically solve itself.

So, the good news is Lieutenant Flynn said it looks like my mom's gonna make it.

All right, hold on.

I also said it's a day-to-day thing.

But when she gets out of rehab and moves into a halfway house, she's going to need support, financially.

Look, I-I have to go to work sooner or later, right?

It's an incredibly generous thought.

I think Andy may have some insight here.

If your mother's gonna stay sober, she's gonna need to learn how to take responsibility for herself.

Yeah, yeah, but I want to help her take responsibility for herself.

Let's try this... download some part-time job applications, weekend work only, and let's see what you're qualified to do.

So, yes?

So, maybe.

[Telephone ringing]

Marcella Brewster, born 1924, d*ed May 11, 2014, and this is her Maltese, Falcon.

Last year, Ms. Brewster's fortune was estimated at $300 million.

Marcella's only human heirs...

Great-nephew Carter Bradford and great-niece Devin Brewster Duncan... were given $1,000 each.

Why only $1,000?

Leaving a token amount to an heir is one way to prevent a will from being challenged in court.

Unsurprisingly, Carter and Devin have lawsuits already pending, anyway.

The bulk of the estate was left to be managed by E.M. Holdings international, who have been paying Mr. Baird...

A.K.A. d*ck Tracy... For months.

So we can assume that E.M. Holdings maintains the confidentiality agreement that Mr. Baird signed.

Maybe they're incorporated abroad.

I'll run the name through interpol and see what they come up with.

Julio, what about the crab cakes?

Sanchez: Ah, specialty item, ma'am, manufactured by Prospect Bay Crabs and shipped frozen from Baltimore.

Okay, so, whoever poisoned the crab cakes had to have had access to Ms. Brewster's kitchen.

While we can't confirm Marcella was poisoned without a tissue sample, this is interesting.

Marcella's medical records show that she'd been suffering from an acute promyelocytic leukemia, a cancer of the white blood cells.

God. Can we audit this course?

One of the treatments for APL is arsenic trioxide, which she'd been taking intravenously.

Flynn: You know, if the k*ller knew that Marcella was on an arsenic-based drug, maybe he or she thought that by adding more poison to her diet, it wouldn't have showed up at the autopsy.

I've contacted Marcella's personal physician, a Dr. Enrique Cabrera.

Now, in the absence of a body, Dr. Cabrera may have a leftover blood sample proving our victim was poisoned.

Dr. Cabrera, huh?

Yeah, well, he signed the old lady's death certificate at 8:12 P.M. on May 11th, but the police didn't get there until 9:35, after the body had already been removed.

Oh, w-wait, that's not standard procedure.

The body was removed before our guys got there?

Who the hell did that?

It just says "released to funeral home," where she was conveniently incinerated.

Our personal physician has some explaining to do.

How does one e-explain death?

Usually with an autopsy, which we're unable to do in this case.

How long was Marcella under your care?

Three glorious years.

I miss her like I do my first wife.

Did you discuss Marcella's leukemia treatment with anyone?

I'm prevented from that by federal statute.

So you're the only one who knew about the compounds in her chemotherapy.

I doubt it.

Ms. Brewster liked to talk to anyone who would listen about her health...

And about her money.

How many times did I have to attest to the woman's sanity because she wanted to video a new will?

Every other day, she changed the terms, except for leaving that detestable Maltese, Falcon, her house plus $20 million.

I mean, the dog is... cute...

But still.

The doctor has no arrest record, ma'am, but he definitely knew she was ingesting arsenic.

did you take or order any blood tests?

Maybe he was named a beneficiary of one of Marcella's video wills.

Well, they should all be a matter of public record by now.

I'll go look.

I assure you Ms. Brewster d*ed of natural causes, despite the number of people who would have loved to strangle her in her sleep.

Toward the end, did you notice an abrupt decline?

Well, as declines go, death is fairly extreme.

Yes, but, sadly, during her last few days here on earth, Marcella refused my care and had her security guard, Captain Baird, escort me off the property.

Only when she was passing from this world to the next did I receive a call.

I rushed to her side, naturally, but by the time I got there, all I could do was whisper a sad...

"Adios, anciana... Adios."

Oh, and sign the death certificate.

Can you explain why you released the body for removal before the police arrived?

That was not me.

After I performed my professional duties, they immediately removed her body.

They removed the body? Who are "they"?

Well, the same people who had taken over her life and hired that loathsome Captain Baird.

They called themselves Eternal Meadows.

Eternal Meadows?

E.M.

That's the corporation she left most of her money.

Yes. They sound like a cult, don't they?

You see, I thought perhaps, as she reached the end, Marcella decided to find God before God could find her.

That is often the way.

Woman: Life in all its wonder seems full of endless possibilities.

But what if it were truly endless?

Eternal Meadows offers, through advanced cryonics, the chance of making infinite life extension a reality.

Our state-of-the-art freezing chambers are secured around the clock, assuring your enduring future.

Jonathan, can you explain why, if Marcella Brewster was cremated, she was removed from her home by a company that freezes bodies?

Eternal Meadows doesn't freeze bodies.

I don't understand.

And I have said too much already.

Uh, if I may, captain. Listen, d*ck.

In order to prove the poisoning, we have to have a tissue sample.

Yeah, and the body was cremated. I get it.

But if you people could just think it through, huh?

Hmm?

Eternal Meadows freezes people's heads?!

Oh, I don't know. Do they?

Okay. Why would she not preserve her entire self?

Because with stem-cell advances, you can have your head attached to a younger body when they thaw you out.

Provenza: Well, you can't argue with that logic.

How on earth could you work for a company like Eternal Meadows?

Well, how about, they were the only people on earth who would hire me?

Well, here's another thing I can't believe I'm saying.

But if we're gonna prove poisoning, I need to get a search warrant for Marcella Brewster's frozen head.

Yeah, well, I thought you might.

Now, I can't go with you to Eternal Meadows because then they would know who gave you the tip-off, but I have drawn a blueprint of their facilities as best I could remember.

Now, when you arrive at this door, it's labeled "hermetically sealed," and I want you to think of these five numbers.

And think of them... In this order.

Good lord.

Two grown men going to apprehend a frozen head.

Is there anything else about immortality you'd like me to explain?

[Chuckles]

Well, I get the part about where you chop off our heads and put them on ice and we live forever, but, uh, what's a perpetual trust?

Well, as I the last thing anyone would ever want is to wake up in the future with no money in the bank, so we manage your assets for you while you're resting.

For free?

[Chuckling] I wish!

Our electricity bill is through the roof.

It's really cold back there! [Laughs]

No, but we only charge your trust 5% a year, which is very close to the yield.

Hmm.

So, if one of your customers...

Say, Marcella Brewster, for example...

Gave you $300 million, Eternal Meadows would collect...

Wow... $15 million a year forever...

For keeping her dead head in a can?

We operate under strict confidentiality agreements.

I can't discuss individual clients or their finances.

Even with police?

Here's a warrant for everything that is left of Marcella Brewster.

Wait! You got the map turned upside down!

No, I don't! The freezers are down here to the left.

Please stop.

Yeah, and good luck getting our parking validated now.

You can't go back there! Oh, my God!

Stop. You can't do this.

You two are trespassing.

If you breach that door, Eternal Meadows will demand justice for the woman that you are robbing of immortality!

I think her m*rder*r had something to do with that, too.

Boy, she's not kidding. It is cold in here.

You complain about everything.

Want me to get you some mittens?

[Hair dryer whirring]

Sorry. This woman's head is like a glacier.

I have to thaw her out carefully, or I'll ruin any chance I have at a decent tissue sample.

Well, what about a hair sample?

Um, it's a wig.

She chose this?

Mm-hmm.

Oh, dear God.

Oh, I can't watch. I-I-I can't watch.

Really? Because I can't look away.

People pay to have this done to themselves.

No, they don't.

They pay to believe that they'll get another swing at the ball, another night on the town.

I-I-I don't know if she was m*rder*d, but Marcella was definitely robbed.

Oh, that's just what she paid for this wig.

Let me say right now, it's gonna take me a few days to get these arsenic levels measured properly.

Oh, my God. It's true. You did it.

Captain, lieutenants, step out... now.

[Sighs]

Why did you unplug Marcella Brewster's head?

Now we're being sued by this Eternal Meadows place.

Sharon: Marcella Brewster is legally deceased, and I have every right to examine her head.

But Eternal Meadows says now that Ms. Brewster's been thawed out, she can never be refrozen.

It's the same with chicken or fish.

You've broken her perpetual trust.

The terms of her entire will have just gone out the window, including all the money she left to the police memorial fund.

You understand what that means?

Oh, my God.

What if that was the plan all along?

You mean we were played to pull Marcella's head out of the freezer?

And destroy the terms of her will.

Tracy has been working for Marcella's relatives this whole time.

He poisoned that little dog on purpose. all right, what's the problem?

It's these job applications.

They all want someone who has a high-school diploma, which I don't get until August, or who has actual work experience.

Didn't you participate in an undercover operation involving major crimes, S.I.S., and the special operations bureau of the LAPD?

But I didn't get paid for that.

Well, it's still experience.

Look, I'll show you a version of an LAPD reference letter on official stationary.

I'll fill in some blanks, see how you like it.

Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait.

W-what... what good is experience like that?

[Scoffs] Rusty, listen to me.

Lots of stores hire quick-eyed kids like you to help catch shoplifters, huh?

That gives you a job and a skill.

I can't be a snitch for a living.

Well, of course you can.

Snitching on people is how I started my career.

And look at me now.

Carter Bradford's never thought about working a day in his life.

After losing most of his trust fund in a chain of vegan-taco restaurants, Marcella's great-nephew, Carter Bradford, spent a decade chasing the perfect wave, while his cousin, Devin, ended up in similar financial straits after buying herself out of three bad marriages.

As stated earlier, Devin and Carter are both challenging their great-aunt's will.

The last three of which are all cued up. Detective?

Yeah.

I sped them up a little.

Will one.

Hello? Is this machine on?

I, Marcella I. Brewster, being of sound mind and blah, blah, blah, leave everything not set aside for charity to my great-nephew, Carter Bradford.

He's an aimless chickenshit, but [Chuckles]

Unlike my great-niece, Devin, can manage the servants.

My house and $20 million go to the care and maintenance of my beloved Falcon.

Oh. Look at the camera.

Smile, sweetheart. [Laughs]

Turn this thing off. Turn it off!

Among the symptoms of arsenic poisoning are confused and overly aggressive behavior.

Like a small dog. Will number two.

You all know who I am, damn it.

No, I'm not saying any of that crap again.

Scroll down. Keep scrolling.

There! Hold it!

I hereby give my idiot grand-niece, Devin, everything not going to charity.

And why?

Because it turns out my great-nephew voted for a certain black president who shall remain nameless.

As always, my house and $20 million go to Falcon.

Falcon, you're rich.

And, uh, now for the last last will and testament of Marcella Brewster.

I, Marcella Brewster, put all my money not going to charity in a trust to be held by Eternal Meadows, minus $1,000 each for my heirs.

Try suing me now, you stupid, ungrateful, idiotic [Coughs] bastards.

Note the attendant from Eternal Meadows in the background.

It doesn't matter, anyway, because I am going to need every dollar I have for when I'm brought back to life.

My house and $20 million go to my Maltese [Chuckles] Falcon.

[Coughs]

Sanchez: Captain, I just went through Carter Bradford's credit-card statements, and it turns out he's a customer of Prospect Bay Crabs.

Now, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.

A-are you saying that this guy fed his great-aunt poisoned crab cakes that he had bought and paid for with his own credit card?

I'd say it's time we notify the heirs of another death in the family.

Oh, Falcon, huh? Who'd he bite now?

Actually, sir, Falcon's dead.

Poisoned with arsenic.

Whoa. Do you know who Falcon left the house to?

God, I hope he isn't the brains of the family.

[Voice breaking] That poor little dog was my last living connection to my dear great-aunt.

Whose estate you are suing.

Only 'cause I have to.

How else am I supposed to get her money?

My family sues each other all the time.

It's kind of necessary.

So, how did Falcon die, anyway?

Falcon was poisoned.

Poisoned?

[Whimpers] Oh, my God!

[Cries]

Who would do such a thing to that innocent and loving little scamp?

My cousin Devin, that's who. Ugh!

Hey, if you caught her k*lling a dog, wouldn't all my great-aunt's money come to me?

[Laughing] That would be hilarious.

I bet she's already measuring the drapes...

You know, in her head.

How can you be so sure?

Because if "Mr. cowabunga" saw an easy way to pay for his pot and his oceanside lifestyle... woof.

It'd only be fair 'cause I did tons of stuff for the old bag just because I cared.

I would have sold that house and taken care of Falcon for free.

What exactly did you do for her?

Well, firstly, I gave her a lot of, uh...

Medical brownies, you know, to boost her appetite, along with these crab cakes that came all the way from, uh [exhales sharply] someplace really far.

If Einstein here did poison Marcella with crab cakes, why would he volunteer that?

Well, it does sound too good to be true.

You delivered the crab cakes?

Yeah, for a while, but I couldn't get near the old gal once those freaks in the green outfits showed up with their security guy, Captain Crunch.

Yeah, weirdo rent-a-cop would literally turn me away and then hit on me as I left.

Ugh. [Cellphone ringing]

Oh. [Giggles]

These real-estate agents... like sharks.

At least now I know why they're calling. [Chuckles]

The $20 million doghouse can finally go on the market.

Strike anyone as odd that the only person they seem to hate more than each other is Jonathan Baird?

Seriously?! I'm the linchpin?!

That is insane!

And trust me...

I know something about insanity!

You're the common element between everyone who had an opportunity or motive for k*lling Marcella.

Sharon: You sent the doctor away, you took the crab cakes from her great-nephew, and you told her great-niece how attractive you found her.

Sanchez: Or maybe you worked for everybody.

You helped Eternal Meadows get rid of Marcella.

Then helped the old lady's relatives get rid of the dog.

Let me explain how wrong you are!

Number one... I called you, which is why we're here discussing m*rder in the first place, mi compadre.

Number two... Security codes.

Not only did I violate my confidentiality agreement, but I gave you guys the numbers protecting the most valuable frozen asset in the world!

Number three... Employment!

Dead dog, job gone, poof!

Good thing there's a million positions waiting for someone with my psychiatric record.

Oh, wait! There's not!

Number...

Four?

Yeah, number four... no pesos, my little Latino friend.

Have you established a path by which money from the Marcella Brewster estate travels into my pocket?

No.

You have not!

And fifth, and most importantly, I lost the one thing that mattered...

My best friend, Falcon...

And the great, big house in which we lived together.

So, what is my motive, you... you big meanies?

Why would I purposely k*ll Marcella and Falcon and lose my best chance at living a life in uniform?

Maybe you don't need a motive.

Maybe you're the just craziest person on the face of the earth.

[Sighs] Well, I did skip my medication today.

No. Hold on... one other thing that has never changed in all of Marcella's video wills was the house.

It was always going to her Maltese... Falcon.

Devin was getting phone calls from realtors even as we interviewed her, and Carter said that he could sell the mansion, no problem.

The Brewster home and surrounding estates have fallen 30% in value over the past five years, even though the rest of the housing market has gone back up.

Now, neighbors say it's because of the unconventional way Marcella has decorated the grounds...

Stuffed horses, statues of "David," lots and lots of neon.

Yeah, and something else these estates have in common...

[Beeping] ...Security gates.

Provenza: The neighbors met us at the front door, but the security gate closed behind us when we entered.

So, who opened it? Well, we weren't there, but we know someone who was.

No, no, no. I cannot be a witness again, guys.

But you must have seen the gate.

I saw it open and close for us, and... and then I saw the neighbors go in and out, but that is it.

Sharon: Rusty, did you see who entered the gate's security code?

No. Mnh-mnh. Sorry.

I was watching something on my phone.

Now, I have already written several sample letters of recommendation praising your powers of observation.

[Sighs]

Okay, fine.

Once the gate was open, maybe the oldest guy walked through first, but that is all I know.

Okay, that would be the neighbor, Mr. Kleiner.

I wonder if he's the one calling realtors about the Brewster home.

We still have leftover evidence, correct?

About a freezer full of crab cakes.

If only we knew someone who Kleiner would never suspect of being part of a police operation, someone who had every right to be at Ms. Brewster's house, someone who could inform Kleiner about a bargain about to drop into his lap.

It was her and the dog, right?

And then all these pictures of the house because that's where they lived, right?

The heirs would like to put the house on the market, but they'd be even more glad to avoid realtor commissions.

[Chuckling] Well, as would I.

Oh, you know what? Would you mind?

Oh, yeah, yeah.

There we go.

d*ck is actually doing an okay job.

Flynn: Now who's nuts?

Don't forget that Captain Crazypants over here worked for a firm that was peddling eternal life.

So does the Pope.

But the Catholic Church is a religion. It's not a company.

And the Pope doesn't play dress-up.

All right, well, not as a cop.

Ms. Winslow, this is Mr.

Kleiner from next door.

Mr. Kleiner. My pleasure.

Thank you for coming over.

Oh, sure, sure.

I, uh, understand that you've been contacting some realtors, saying that you'd like to buy my aunt's house from her estate.

I did.

And... and... and allow me to offer my... my condolences.

You know, in all my time visiting with Marcella, I don't recall her ever mentioning a niece named Meredith.

Oh, well, I'm sure that we must have some people in common.

Are you friends with the... newhouses?

No. No. The Du Ponts?

The windmillers?

Ah. No.

Oh, well, I've never heard of you, either, but I'm not gonna let that bother me. [Both laugh]

Thank you, Jonathan.

You're welcome.

Have a seat.

Sure.

Flynn: What the hell is he doing?

Will you get out of there, you moron?

I don't mean to keep you, Jonathan.

I'm sure that you have other duties to perform.

Eh, not so much. Everyone's dead.

Oh, oh, yeah, you know what?

I do have something very important to take care of.

So, if anyone needs me, just give me a holler, and I will be... I'll be outside and especially far from the kitchen.

And excuse me!

Listen, uh, Ms. Winslow, if you're really sure you want to sell the house...

Oh, I am.

I can't get any of the usual designers I work with to even visit this place...

The dog hair alone.

[Both laugh]

And, uh, of course, we need to to agree on a fair price.

Well, while the press reports this mansion as an enormously valuable doghouse, your aunt's eccentric sense of design has had a negative impact on value.

I'd need to do a walk-through before an offer.

[Cellphone ringing] Oh. If you'll excuse me.

One moment.

Yes?

Well, I'm not sure I'm going to be listing the house, after all.

Oh, well, could you come by after 5:00?

Oh, well, if you really feel that you must.

Um, yes.

Apparently, the LAPD is dropping by to conduct some sort of search.

God only knows why they think there might be poison on the premises.

If you don't mind, I'd like to finish the second-floor inventory before the police come by and turn this place upside down.

Feel free to walk about.

I'll find you before you leave.

Oh, well, I'll be... I appre...

I'll... I'll be very, very c...

Here we go.

[Sighs] Oh, God.

Look how desperate he is.

Flynn: What a genius.

Hey, next time, don't wait a month to collect evidence that might incriminate you.

Oh, if he had it all to do over again.

Sykes, Sanchez, prepare to apprehend the suspect as he exits the kitchen.

Holy crap! What's d*ck Tracy doing in the kitchen?

Looking for something, Mr. Kleiner?

Hold on. Hold on.

Let's see where this goes.

Ice. Just a little ice.

It's... it's... It's just so hot out there.

Ohh, see, I thought you might have been stealing all the crab cakes you filled with arsenic!

[Laughing] Wha...

Or maybe returning the venison that I suddenly ran out of so I would end up feeding Falcon your recipe for death by shellfish.

You took care of Falcon when Marcella was away.

You told me that yourself.

So you had the motive... an overly serious dislike of the decor.

You had the means... access to the security code and the crab cakes.

Would you mind emptying your bag?

Pockets, too, please.

Careful. [Inhales sharply]

I know how to use this.

Good. Then your death will be ruled self-defense.

Aah! [Grunts] Aah! Aah!

He's right behind me!

Drop your w*apon! Drop it!

No. Don't sh**t! I'm rich!

Did you guys see how I drew him outside so you could arrest him?

On your knees. Don't move.

Oh, hey, can I cuff him? I have cuffs.

If someone doesn't shut him up...

What, Mr. Moneybags?

Are you gonna take away my polo privileges, huh?

Are you gonna hide your grey poupon?

Oh, I should have poisoned you instead of Marcella.

Flynn: Buzz.

I got it. I got it.

I think we can classify that as a spontaneous utterance.

Provenza: Yes, I think we can.

Mr. Kleiner, you're under arrest for the m*rder of Marcella Brewster.

You have the right to remain silent.

Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law.

You have the right to attorney.

If you can't afford one...

Nice job, captain.

Oh. Thank you, captain.

But it took all of us.

And now we have avenged my little Maltese.

Say it.

Falcon.

Could someone please explain how a k*ller confesses to m*rder and then gets a deal for 25 years.

If we'd gone to trial, our star witness would have been you.

Juries don't like nutjobs.

Two hours ago, I felt like I was on top of the world.

Right now, I feel very underappreciated.

Underappreciated? It's a way of life for us.

What do you know? Maybe you're a real detective, after all.

Wow. I'm in the club, huh?

[Laughs] Awesome!

Taylor: Good news, everyone! Listen up!

Our attorneys have decided the cryonics company's suit has no merit.

And as far as the LAPD memorial fund is concerned, nothing changes.

Mr. Baird, on behalf of the city and the LAPD, allow me to express a gratitude that knows no bounds.

So, you're bringing me on the force full time?

Not a chance.

[Chuckles] Carry on, everyone.

Carry on.

Even when they thank you, it's thankless.

Maybe for my next time, Louie...

No, trust me, d*ck...

Despite what they're selling over at Eternal Meadows, there is no next time... Thank God...

Because as far as it goes with you and the LAPD, once is enough.

Well, I've been here twice.

My point exactly. You need to move on.

Sharon: Ah, but first, Jonathan, could I get you to finish writing your statement?

I believe you're on page 63.

Thank you, lieutenant, for this letter of recommendation.

I don't know if I even deserve all of this, uh... this praise for my work with the LAPD.

But I don't think I can handle a job in security for a big retail store.

I mean, pointing out people who get arrested on my say-so is just not for me.

W-well, Rusty... well, j... wait.

[Chuckling] Hold on. I mean, are you sure?

All I have to do is fill your name in on that letter, and you're good to go.

Or maybe you could finish your coursework and get your high-school diploma and then we can all sit down and discuss how you would go about joining the workforce.

Yeah, but that may not even be possible.

A-any job that... that pays well is really hard to find, and then everyone who is hiring is totally concentrated on training and experience.

But what about talent and energy and genuine interest in the work?

What's that worth?

Well, as it so happens, we have someone here who maybe be able to answer those questions for you.

[Telephone rings]

Where did he go?

That's funny.

His statement is signed and dated.

Did he just leave?

Son of a...

Eleanor: "And Mr. Richard Tracy worked so well with the police "that I am only sorry we cannot hire him ourselves.

Sincerely yours, Lieutenant Louie M. Provenza, LAPD."

Yeah, I should say for the record that I loved my role going undercover in the classified law-enforcement operation Lieutenant Provenza referred to there, but my true passion has always been retail security.

A passion we here at Lavoi's department store will be happy to employ.

Yes!

[Laughs] Welcome aboard, Mr. Tracy.

[Laughs] Welcome aboard.

[Both laughing]