07x13 - Nip and Suck It

[bunniefuu]

It's very common to spot
a Dark-eyed Junco,

but let's keep our eyes peeled
for a Ruddy Turnstone,

or maybe a Wandering Tattler.

A wandering what?

There's a lovely, mature
Hooded Oriole in the far tree.

If we're quiet, we may
be treated to its song.

I'm Mister
Booty Man I'm Mister Booty Man

I'm sorry. Sorry.

Damn it, Shawn!

My son just bought me this new phone.
I'm not sure how to turn it off.

Hel...

He must have hung up.

Oh...

I'm telling you, I saw that
bracelet just sitting there

and I knew, I knew
something was up.

The hairs on the back of my neck,
they stood right up. Hey, Bobby!

Hey, Henry.
Look who's back!

Who's working the evidence cage?
Is Lou in there? Lou's...

No, he d*ed, right?

Not a lot of hair left to
join in that celebration.

Your dad does realize
that he's retired, right?

Yeah, but he had a tough year. I
mean, come on, he got sh*t and...

That's really it, I guess.

But if he wants to relive the old days
when he was a starter in this league,

I say we indulge him.
Now listen,

this was not a woman who just
wandered into the woods and d*ed.

Oh, no, no, no, no. This was a
deliberate and heinous act of malice.

What we must ascertain are the
who, what, where and, Shawn?

- Why?
- Pronto.

That's right. Guster,
no half-assing here.

Now, listen I've got a really
good theory as to who's involved.

Good game, Pop.
I think it's...

Good game.

We indulged him enough.

All right, all right.

You realize your dad worked
here up till last year.

He did?

What we have here is a...

Woman.

I am guessing by this wound,

that she d*ed of blunt force
trauma to the back of the head.

I would place her at
about 27 years of age.

I'm gonna say more
like 47, Woody.

Trust me, Shawn,

I know what a 69 year-old
woman looks like

in her birthday suit
and this ain't it.

I said 47.

She's actually 48 years old.

Oh, see?
So, we were both wrong.

Shelley Aaronson. Widowed, wealthy, lived on her own.
Here's the toxicology report.

This looks
nothing like her.

Well the records match
the fingerprint.

How is it that the same person?

The same way Bruce Jenner transformed
himself into Fire Marshall Bill,

cosmetic surgery.

Yeah, you are right.

There are tiny surgical
scars on her scalp.

Yeah.
This is well done.

Clean lines.
Nice smooth finish.

This is Dr. Joan Diamond's
work. I'd know it anywhere.

I saw her speak at a symposium
of forensic artists.

She also appeared on
The Love Boat

back when she was
a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.

Okay.
So, we've got

a rich woman with a bunch of plastic
surgery who got brained in the park.

But that is not necessarily what k*lled her.
There was enough

botulism toxin here to de-wrinkle
all the Sharpeis in China.

Oh, just kidding.
Slow day.

It's some cosmetic injectable
called Nutox, quite a bit of it.

Now why is it in her blood?

That's a hell of
a question, Woody.

Maybe we should
ask Dr. Joan Diamond.

The doctor is ready to see you.

Oh, good.

Perhaps she can make me look
both youthful and astonished.

Or Asian.

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

I know, you know

I know, you know

I know, you know

Just one moment while
I log in to the system.

Mr. Spencer, you've listed your
emergency contact as Val Kilmer.

Well, what can I say, we come
strong or we don't come at all.

Perhaps you noticed my Aston
Martin parked out front.

That's Dr. Joan's
Aston Martin.

But you can tell Val I'll
be his huckleberry forever.

Dude, look how they do this,

Julia Roberts' mouth.
Cameron Diaz's eyes.

Patricia Heaton's widow's peak.

Wow, Shelley weird-scienced
herself a new face. Hmm.

Jules, get ready for this.
Shelley Aaronson is not a widow.

She's married to some
dude named Brad Turner.

Really? Well, that must be a recent development.
Because, get this,

Shelley filed a lawsuit against
Dr. Diamond before she d*ed.

Really? Well get this, we just met a woman
who still has the hots for Val Kilmer.

Really?

Having fun, boys?

I'm sorry about all this.

I was trying to track a shipment
of Beanie Babies that I sent,

but in order to get
the express shipping

I had to package them with
three pints of human blood.

I'm Dr. Joan Diamond.
How can I improve you today?

Well, as luck would have it, I'm
actually here to improve you,

by offering up these features
as a template for new patients.

Don't need to be paid. I'm doing
it for the future of mankind.

Well, that's quite an offer. I'll need
at least two more seconds to process it.

Hmm.
Pass.

Seriously, I take it you're here
to address your lobe issues.

My what?
Your ear lobes.

There's a slight bulbousness.

I offer an out-patient procedure
that will change your life.

Just look at Denzel.

His lobes are incomparable.

Exactly.

Here's a pamphlet.

So, that's how it works,
huh, Dr. Diamond?

You just make people feel
self-conscious and then slice them up?

I don't make people do anything.
Oh, wait. That's not true.

I'm about to make
you disappear.

Okay, jig's up.

I'm psychic detective Shawn Spencer and
I am sensing that Shelley Aaronson

was suing the hell out of you. Now she's dead.
Care to comment?

This is neither the time nor
the place, Mr. Spencer.

Okay.
How about here and now?

Dr. Diamond, this guy says he
needs to ask you a few questions.

Dad?
Henry?

Henry?
That's my name.

Hello, Joan.

Hello, Joan?

How do you two know each other?

Clearly you haven't
had any work done.

Otherwise you wouldn't have the
timber and socks and the whole

Pebble Beach thing you've
got going on downstairs.

I don't even wanna know
what you think that means.

Your father and I
have met before.

Where, the Witness Protection Program?
What...

What's with all
the mystery here?

Henry, you still look great.
No. Don't lie to him.

Dad, what are you doing here?

I wasn't sure if you caught
the plastic surgery angle.

I wanted to gather some
information for you.

We're like seven
laps ahead of you.

Henry, I don't understand. Am
I being accused of something?

No. No, of course not.

Au contraire.

You see, Doctor Death,
Shelley was suing you

and rather than take a hit to
your sparkling reputation,

you whacked her with an
industrial dose of face freezer.

So, end of Shelley.
End of story.

How's that for an accusation?

You must have been adopted.

Sure, in my dreams, absolutely. But what
does that have to do with anything?

Come on, kid. You gotta admit, that's a
pretty lame movie of the week you're writing.

Sorry, Pop, just like,
The Carla Newman Story,

this movie writes itself.

I'm sorry, I really
don't have time for this.

Henry, it was lovely
to see you again.

- You too.
- Don't go far.

All right. What the hell
are you doing here?

Come on, Shawn, that theory of
yours is a little half-baked.

Of course it is.
Most of my theories are.

Some of them aren't even baked at all.
Some of them are just dough.

Some of them aren't even dough.

They're just eggs and flour,
maybe a little bit of bacon.

Bottom line, I always catch
the bad guy, and guess what?

I don't need your
help doing it anymore.

Oh, so you know
everything now, do you?

No, just everything that you
know and then some. Plus three.

Okay. Well, then.
Good luck to you.

Dude, I googled dead Shelley's
husband, Brad Turner.

I think I know
where to find him.

You are on fire. You
are on fire right now!

Mr. And Mr. Nussbaum, it's time
to start your couples massage.

I'm gonna k*ll you, Shawn.

What are you gonna k*ll me for?
This is your lead. Just relax.

Go with it.

My name's Brad, this is Tricia.

Just relax and we'll
be right with you.

Mmm-mmm.

He's like half Shelley's age.

I better get the girl.

You take this one.

Wow, are you tense.

Oh, yeah. Oh, my gosh.
Tricia, Tricia, Tricia.

Your fingers are like
magical baby wieners.

Sir, would you like to remove
some of your clothing?

Absolutely not.

Maybe just your sweater?

Negatory. Move on.

Uh, Brad. We'd like to offer
our condolences for Shelley.

It was just so awful.

Did you know Shelley?

Yes.

Yes, we met at
Dr. Joan Diamond's office.

Can I ask, how long
were you two married?

Two weeks.

Two weeks?

That's it? It's the only two weeks
of my life that ever mattered.

Tricia, could you please
get me a glass of water?

Thanks.
Yeah.

Hey, Tricia, where you going
with those sweet sausages?

So, what are you guys, cops? Ow!

No! Not cops.
Not cops at all.

Ah. Oh.

I'm psychic detective
Shawn Spencer.

This is my brother, Darryl,
and my other brother Darryl.

Why don't you tell us why
Shelley was suing Dr. Diamond?

I don't know.

My wife was so insecure.

I kept telling her, her
beauty came from within.

From within her bank account?

- Ow.
- What are you saying?

That I was taking advantage
of a rich widow? Ow.

I think it's a little odd that you're here
working the day after she was k*lled.

Ah, ow.

Look, man.
I'm just trying to cope, okay?

I'm in pain here!
Ow!

Shh.
Ow!

We signed a pre-nup, okay? One that I asked for.
You can call her lawyer.

Ah, ow!

What do you think? Do you
think he's telling the truth?

I don't know. My back
feels better though.

Weird.

What you're doing is weird.
Brad.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry about all that, man.
Look, uh...

We're actually here to help.

So if you can remember
anything strange or unusual

about the day that
Shelley d*ed,

that could be the difference
in finding her k*ller.

Ah, well...

The day she passed, she met someone
for coffee at Truffles Cafe.

Are you fiddling
with your earlobes?

What? No...

Come on, son. We both
know what this is about.

When's the last time
you spoke with Rachael?

16 days.
Oh, my gosh.

Your earlobes are fine, okay? It's
your relationship that needs a lift.

I'm on tilt, Shawn.
I'm tilting.

What's up, Dogstar?

This woman come
in here recently?

She may have been upset.
Maybe in an argument?

Yeah.

She was with someone
who looked just like her.

Her twin sister or a cyborg made in her image.
Both are possible.

Sure. Do you know what
they were arguing about?

Yeah, one called the
other one a thief.

You think we can take
a look at your security tapes?

We've got security tapes?

That is definitely Shelley.

Wow.
They do look alike.

That is one hot robot.

She does looks familiar.

Wait a minute.
The nose of Brianna Hicks!

Let's get out of here.

Shelley was a thief, Gus.
A nose thief.

She stole the schnoz of Brianna Hicks
and Brianna Hicks k*lled her for it.

Did you swipe that
hat from Dogstar?

No. I wear this
hat all the time.

Oh, my gosh. I can't believe you let
Dr. Joan get in your head like this.

Leave me alone, Shawn.
I'm a man apart.

My whole world is turned
upside down like a snow globe.

Lassie? Brianna?

What are you doing here? And how
are you one step ahead of us?

Well, let's see.
Maybe because

the private detective on the
case was two steps ahead of you.

What private detective?

The one that
Dr. Diamond hired.

What took you so long,
sonny boy?

Am I upset?

I've spent hundreds of thousands
of dollars cultivating this look,

and Shelley was
matching everything I did.

And then she copied my nose. Seriously,
that's where I draw the line.

Huh.

I guess that's where she draws the line.
I can dig it.

Let me get this straight.
Joan actually hired you?

Yeah.

What, you think that's crazy?

No. Not if her goal was
to make a crazy decision.

Tell us exactly where you were last
Tuesday, when Shelley was k*lled.

I was getting liposuction.

Okay. Can you prove it?

Sure.

Whoa.
Oh.

There's no way that she dragged
Shelley's body into the woods.

Agreed.
You were wrong, Pop.

We were both wrong.

You were wrong first.

Look, I know what's going on here.
Oh, yeah? What's that?

You were upset with me because I said
I don't need your advice anymore.

And you still have a thing for Joan. Who
I admit, still keeps it tight and nice.

Shawn, this has nothing to do with you.
It has nothing to do with her.

I was hired to do a job. That's what I'm doing.
Strictly business.

Well, in that case, I just don't
want you to embarrass yourself.

What? Embarrass
myself? Kid,

I was doing this while you were
still pointing at the potty saying,

"Oh! Look at what
a big boy I am."

He still does that.
That's just for me now.

Look, don't forget, Pop,
you're not 30 anymore.

Okay? In fact,
you're not even 55.

Actually, I am 55.

No kidding?

Well, then this is a sweet
victory for you, man.

Why don't you quit while
you're still ahead?

Because I'm gonna
solve this case.

How are you going to do that,

when you have a prostate
the size of a pumpkin?

I'm Mister
Booty Man I'm Mister Booty Man

Shawn, you gotta
change this ringer.

Yeah. Hi, Joan. Yeah, I don't
wanna do this on the phone.

I'll be right over there.

m*rder?

Someone is trying
to ruin me, Henry.

Uh, Joan, we're gonna figure this thing out.
I'm on the case now.

But you're gonna
have to focus. All right?

Now, do you have any enemies? Or anybody
who might be jealous of your success?

We're gonna have
to start a list.

Can I ask you a question?
What happened that night?

It was a pretty
decent date, Henry.

I really thought there'd
be a second one.

Uh, I scared you
away, didn't I?

No, I was coming out
of a divorce and,

I think focusing on being a better dad
to my son was all I had room for.

Wow, they don't make
men like you anymore.

Yeah, I'm still
gonna need this list.

There is one guy who's
always had it out for me.

Here's his address, if
you wanna check him out.

Doctor's handwriting.
Damn it.

All right, I'll take a look into it.
And I'll call you with any updates.

I'll wait for you.

This is kind of sad for us, no?
We have no leads of our own.

Who needs leads when
we have my father's leads.

Oh.

He's turning into that lot. Let's see
what the old fart has up his sleeve.

Great. We just tailed your
dad to his afternoon nap.

Well, that's kind of
depressing, huh?

For us or for him?

Both, I guess.

Relish.
Mustard.

Sweet, sweet meaty goodness.

Food truck.

Mmm-mmm

Mmm-mmm.

Well played, Pop.

I think the "suck it"
was meant for you.

No, it wasn't, Shawn.

We just got dusted by your dad.
Now what do we have?

Besides four jumbo
Kurobuta pork dogs?

Yeah. Hi, Joan.

Dude, I think I got us covered.
Gus, we could still have it all.

What?

Excuse me, uh...
Hi, Joan. It's Henry.

Do you think you could
give me that address again?

Got it.

Oh, I'm sorry I have to
keep my voice down. Uh...

I'm in an adult bookstore.

Get off the phone.
I got it.

Get off the phone, Shawn.
It's not what you think.

Come on. Let's go.
I mean, it is what you think.

I, I haven't had the touch of a woman
since the first Maroon 5 album came out.

What took you so
long, Daddy Boy?

Please, you don't even
know why you're here.

I know that Shelley may have been seeing
another plastic surgeon, a Dr. Ted Lomax.

I know that this is one
of his Nutox parties.

I know that Dr. Joan
thinks he might be a suspect.

But you're right, other than that,
I'm completely in the dark.

How'd you
figure that out?

I have my ways, kid.

And by the way,
between you and me,

Joan may be under the impression
that you're hard of hearing.

Wow. Look at all these
sad, insecure people.

Totally.

Right, now just relax.

This isn't gonna hurt a bit,
just a little prick.

That's what they
all say, Doctor.

Shh.

There you go. That
wasn't so bad, was it?

Huh, I've had better.

Oh, well I'll try
harder next time.

I would venture to guess that that
gentleman is our Dr. Ted Lomax.

Dr. Lomax.
Lomax, Ted?

Doctor.

Welcome. Always nice
to see new faces.

Yeah. My name is
Henry Spencer.

By chance did you ever treat a
patient named Shelley Aaronson?

Before you answer that
question, answer this one.

Was Shelley Aaronson
ever a patient of yours?

And since we're on the subject, do
my earlobes seem abnormal to you?

No. But you should do something
about that large forehead crease.

Crease?
What crease?

My black is cracking, Shawn?

In answer to your first question,
yes, I used to treat Shelley.

Her m*rder was
a terrible tragedy.

You don't seem too
busted up about it.

More like...

Pleasantly amused.

Like everyone else around here.

Well, that's what we're
going for, isn't it?

Care to join in? I'm running
a two-for-one special.

Pass.

A-dena.

Lomax is our man.

Really?

Don't you think that's
a little bit obvious?

I mean, you gave me crap for
pointing the finger at Dr. Joan.

What are you basing this on?

Instinct and a
feeling right here.

Are you sure that
isn't acid reflux?

A good cop always
relies on instinct, Shawn.

It comes from 30
years of detective work.

Yeah, well,

real fake psychics rely on stuff
that's a little more substantial.

Like whims and wiffle swings.

And it's precisely what I'm
gonna use to prove you wrong.

Oh, well.
Good luck with that.

Yeah.

Hello! You work for
Dr. Lomax, yes?

I'm Leecy, his esthetician.

Shawn Spencer, psychic.

I'm sensing that, uh,

You're about
to leave this job,

go work for someone named Joan.

Wow, that's amazing.
I start there tomorrow.

Congratulations. How does
Dr. Ted feel about that?

Or is it hard to tell on account of
his perfectly sculpted flan face?

He's not happy about it.

Hey, do you know other stuff?
Like, am I gonna meet someone?

Please tell me he's
5'10" or above.

You will.

But he's 5'6"

and gay, and married.

5'6"?
Yeah.

Hey, I'm also sensing that, uh, you
used to treat a patient named Shelley.

It's so sad what happened to her.
She was one of our best customers.

I see, so you knew her well?
Of course,

I was over there bringing
beauty products two days ago.

The day that she d*ed.

Oh, my God...

You don't think
that I had any...

Look, I would never wanna hurt someone!
I'm just a nice farm girl from Bismarck.

In Slovenia.

No, Bismarck, North Dakota.

My point is this,

do you remember anything unusual
about Shelley the day she d*ed?

She seemed happy.

She had just got her hair done and she did
have a new red sports car in the driveway.

One that she bought
for herself.

Any chance that was
an Aston Martin?

Leecy.

You've been more help
than you could possibly know.

Dad, I got bad news. Actually,
it's good news for me.

I just spoke with a witness

who saw a red Aston Martin in Shelley's
driveway on the day she was k*lled.

Looks like you'll be making conjugal
visits to Dr. Joan at Lompoc.

Hearsay.

Lomax definitely k*lled her, although I'm
gonna presume that he didn't mean to.

He's a hack.

He accidentally sh*t the stuff
into Shelley's blood stream,

then tried to cover it up by making it
look like she was att*cked while jogging.

Take a look at these
two diplomas here, Shawn.

Tell me if you see something
similar between the two of them.

Okay.

Oh, crap.
Same watermark.

So, they're fakes.
Sorry, kid.

Those are the facts.

Hey, nice catch on those fake
diplomas, Henry. They're photocopies.

This guy's not a real doctor.

Photocopied what?

Although he is an authorized
dishwasher salesman.

Wait. He's not licensed to
give botulism injections?

Ah,

what happens if someone was
feeling vulnerable and...

Oh, no, Gus.
Tell me you didn't!

I just let an appliance
salesman inject my face, Shawn!

All right, wax works.
Party's over. Hit the road.

Somebody feed my cats. They're
locked in the back bathroom!

Marco Polo and Buttons.
Buttons is allergic to wheat!

You'll get them next time.
Don't look so worried.

I'm worried about
those poor cats.

Dude, why?

You look like
Grace Jones in Boomerang.

Joan, what are you doing here?

Aren't you gonna invite me in?
Yeah, sure. Come in.

I came
by to thank you!

Why are you shouting?

Oh, you said on the phone
you were hard of hearing.

On the phone? What?

No, I'm not hard of...
I'm okay.

It was a bad phone
connection and my idiot son.

Shall we?

Look, Joan, this is very sweet.
But you don't have to thank me.

You hired me to do a job. I did it.
Plain and simple.

Okay, I guess this isn't
purely a business thank you.

It isn't?
So, here's my offer,

you want a sh*t at
that second date?

Your time is now.

I like the way you talk.

We can take this
as slow as you want.

Oh, I'm sorry, are you okay?
With what?

Well, you told me on the phone you hadn't
been touched by a woman in five years.

Oh, please, I'm, I'm all about touching...
respectfully.

May I use your powder room?

Yeah, sure. It's just upstairs to
the right, first door on the left.

Okay, hold my place.

Yeah.

Damn it.

Nutox?

What?

Damn it, that's me.
Man, I'm bald.

Perfect.

What's that?
Why don't you tell me?

That's not mine. I found
it in your purse, Joan.

You went through my bag?

Uh, someone must
have planted it.

I'm gonna have to report this.

That's the same stuff that k*lled Shelley Aaronson.
I can't just ignore it.

I, I, I thought you
were on my side?

I'm on the side
of the law, Joan.

They, they won't believe me.

Henry, stop!

Yeah, hi. This is
Henry Spencer.

Could you put me through to Detective Lassiter?
Yeah, I'll hold.

Oh!

Well. The bad news is because
Dr. Diamond took your phone,

we don't have your picture
of the vial of the stuff

that's making Guster
look like Lil' Wayne Newton.

But the good news is
we do have the syringe.

She obviously didn't know
it was in your pocket.

Traces of the victim's
blood on the needle,

and we pulled one of Diamond's
prints off the plunger.

Sorry, Henry.
Looks like she's our k*ller.

Come on, Pop.
Don't be so hard on yourself.

So, you took a good
bass-whooping.

You got your
hali-butt kicked.

But you found the m*rder w*apon! I
mean, come on, that's something.

No, Shawn. It's the opposite
of something. I'm done.

You're right.
About Dr. Joan?

About me.

You win, kid.

Hmm.

That wasn't nearly as fun
as I thought it would be.

He was
beer-battered.

The bit's over, Gus. Wait, he was smackereled.
Ha! Now, it's over.

Dude, this print from
Dr. Joan is an index finger.

Shouldn't it be a thumb print?

Totally.

What kind of doctor presses the plunger
of a syringe with their index finger?

You think someone lifted Joan's index
finger print and planted it on the syringe?

Maybe. Maybe someone like a fake
doctor who wouldn't know any better.

I bet my dad was right
about Dr. Ted all along.

Here's a question. Ted Lomax is still
a suspect in a m*rder investigation.

What's he doing out of jail?
Huh, Doc?

I'm out on bail.

You're already free and my
face still looks like this!

It'll return to normal in a few days.
Really?

Wait. How do you know?
Intuition.

And People magazine.

Besides, I barely
put anything in you.

You sure this isn't
psychosomatic?

I've seen that response
in many of my patients.

I'm sensing that you planted
that syringe in Joan's purse.

I did no such thing.

Said the professional liar. Huh.

Why would Joan be calling you?

Don't know.
Answer it.

Put it on speaker
and act natural.

Don't let her know
that we're here.

It's too much pressure.

It didn't bother you when you were
injecting my dome with poison!

Right.

I can do this.
I'm Ted Matuzak.

I mean, Lomax.

Hello, Joan.

Ted, listen, I don't
have that much time.

You were treating Shelley
after she sued me.

Do you have any idea
who'd wanna k*ll her?

You?

Damn it!
You're no help.

There.

You're all class, Matuzak.

If Joan k*lled Shelley,
why is she calling around

trying to figure out
who k*lled Shelley?

Between that and the weird fingerprint,
it sounds like Joan got framed.

But if she didn't k*ll her,
then why did she hit your dad?

She must've panicked, I guess. I mean, she had
the m*rder w*apon on her for some reason.

We gotta find this woman.

Wait. Didn't you set up
your dad's phone?

If she has it, we can track it.

Dad!

Go ahead, gloat.

Actually, uh, shockingly,
that's not why we're here.

We think Joan is innocent.

She whacked me with a fish. Destroyed
a beautifully mounted Northern Pike.

She's guilty. All right,
first of all, Pop,

you gotta treat that thing like
your baby maker, huh? Be the ball.

Secondly,

only one of Joan's fingerprints
turned up on that syringe.

And get this.
It was the index finger.

You saying it was planted?

Hell, yeah,
I think it was planted!

And she just called Dr. Ted to
ask him if he knew of anyone

with motive to k*ll Shelley.

Good. Good.
Just stay the course.

You don't need an old
man to slow you down.

There's more, your phone,

an old eight by ten glossy and
a note from Dr. Joan to you.

Left in your mailbox.
Let me see it.

Let me read it to you,
it'll be more dramatic.

No, no, no. Give it to me!
It was meant for me!

Jesus, Dad!
"Henry,

"believe me when
I tell you I'm innocent.

"Hopefully, I'll be able
to prove it to you soon.

"If I did any damage to your head with
that fish, just know that I can fix it."

Check the pic.

It's nice, right?
Oh.

I knew it.
I knew it.

I never should have
doubted my gut.

That's it.
Let's go, boys.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

Your pants
are rolled up.

You knew damn well we were gonna come here
and give you the ra-ra speech, didn't you?

I had a strong sense of it.

You see, I still had
this seed of doubt.

I just couldn't cr*ck the case. But I
knew if you two put your heads together

you'd come up with something. And you did.
Thank you very much.

You came up with a new piece of evidence.
You found my cell phone.

Am I really that predictable?

All right, we need
a new suspect!

Back when I was on the force, we used
to say you're never out of suspects.

Sometimes you just had to
go back to square one.

Who's the first person
that you looked into?

Joan was our
first suspect.

But then we looked into
Shelley's husband, Brad.

But we moved off of him because
he didn't have any motive.

He voluntarily signed a pre-nup
before they got married.

Which means he wouldn't get
any money from divorcing her.

But if somebody k*lled her?

Life insurance!

Someone with her stack would
have to have a big policy.

And now that she's dead, all
that money goes to Brad.

Ahh.

This is good.

Brad Turner, SBPD. You're
gonna need to come with us.

Let's get those hands
where we can see them.

Mr. Turner?

Uh-oh.

That is one unhappy ending.

Did you sleep here last night?

No. Actually, I...

Crash here all the time.

Something about the smell of
formaldehyde just lulls me to sleep.

I think it's the scent.

Looks like we have another
overdose from injected botulism.

So you think we're
looking for the same k*ller?

Well, makes sense. I mean, Joan kills
Shelley because she's suing her.

Then the husband figures it out, he
confronts her. She kills him too.

She's as guilty as
Missus O'Leary's cow.

It's just a matter of
time until we find her.

O'Hara. Yeah, I think
Joan is innocent.

So do I.

She must have fish-slapped
you harder than I thought.

What are you basing this on?

The spirits.

My gut. Great. So I've got
ghosts and cellulite.

I don't even need
an arrest warrant.

Got it. Thanks.

They just spotted Joan's Aston Martin
heading toward Diamond Surgical.

Then we will be
waiting for her.

So will I. No, you won't.
Come on, O'Hara.

Thank you.

I'm just a nice farm
girl from Bismarck.

Brad and Leecy were both
from Bismarck, North Dakota.

SBPD, get your
hands in the air.

Did you hear me?

Yes, but I can't lift my
arms until my implants heal.

You're not joking, are you?

Everyone put your hands down.

Where's
Dr. Diamond?

Uh, I'm not sure.
It's my first day.

She was just seen
entering the building.

Do not lie to us.
Where is Dr. Diamond?

I'm right here.

You're under arrest for the m*rder
of Shelley Aaronson and Brad Turner.

Put your hands
behind your back.

Uh, Lassie, I'm not so
bullish on your bull's-eye.

You need to uncross
your crossers.

- Land the plane, Spencer.
- Shawn's right, Carlton.

Leecy here,

is our m*rder*r.

Gus, show 'em.

Leecy's arrest record
from Bismarck.

We ran it after Shawn had a...

A vision.

A couple of fraud charges
and an arrest for theft.

This doesn't mean
she's a m*rder*r.

She and Brad were high school
sweethearts back in Bismarck

where they made a habit
of scamming rich people.

Two years later they come to Santa Barbara
and target one of the richest gals in town,

Shelley Aaronson.

The plan was simple,
he would seduce her,

tie the knot, and they would take Shelley
for every dime she has in the divorce.

Then Brad and Leecy skip out
of town with all the dough.

But there was a wrinkle.

Brad fell in
love with Shelly.

What? I was gonna
take that part.

But you got the wrinkle part.

What's fun about saying,
"But there was a wrinkle?"

It's the turn.

Would you two
just get on with it?

Excuse me, Lassie. You try doing
a break-down with your father.

Brad fell for Shelley and
agreed to sign a pre-nup,

thus destroying Leecy's chances
of ever getting her money.

Plus, she lost her
man in the process.

Exactamundo.

So, in a jealous rage,
she kills Shelley.

And pins it on
poor Dr. Joan.

To whom I owe a
Texas-sized apology.

It was Leecy who planted the
vials in Dr. Joan's bag

while she was up here
filling out paperwork.

Final twist,
Brad got suspicious.

So, she kills him too.

Things got out of control.

I loved Brad...

Yeah, to death.
Snap!

Pop, that is some quality
old-school smack talk.

Put your hands
behind your back.

Excuse me. Did you get
your work done here?

No.

Phew!

That's
cold-blooded.

Dude,
I've got huge news.

Jules and I are back
together again, officially.

She made me work for it, but
I came all the way back.

She couldn't resist this forever.
I hear that.

I got good news too. I think I
got my face back. Check it out.

What am I looking at?

I'm seeing whimsical,

with a touch of constipation.

What? You know that's right.
Come on, son.

Come on, son.
You know, Shawn?

Even though I can't express
it, I learned my lesson.

You cannot explain
color to a blind man.

I am beautiful, Shawn.

I am a beautiful man and I am going
to stick with what God gave me.

I lost track of that because I was freaking
out over this whole situation with Rachael.

And yes, she's in London. And
yes, her ex-husband is there.

But you know what I realized?
No matter how it all plays out,

Burton Guster is gonna
be just fine.

You know what?
I'm proud of you.

Thank you.

Hey! What are you
guys doing here?

What? I can't pop in on
my two favorite delinquents?

Your father is finally taking
me on our second date.

And somebody owes me a fish.

Mmm. And this time
no concussion.

What a crazy ass week, huh?

The two of us solve
a m*rder together.

Gus does the African American
version of Face Off with himself.

What is this place,
about 20 by, what,

25?

What's happening
right now? What are you doing?

Huh, I'm just mulling
things over.

What are utilities here?
Oh, my gosh.

You're thinking about coming out
of retirement again, aren't you?

I'm thinking about hanging
a shingle of my own, yeah.

I think you're talking about getting shingles.
Contracting them.

Funny, ha-ha.

Look, what's the matter with me
taking a case here or there?

He's very good, you know.

Unless, of course, you're
afraid of the competition.

Are you
hearing this?

Thank you very much.

These must be
from my publisher.

You don't have a publisher.
You sent pages to a printer.

And it wasn't even a real
printer, it was Dr. Ted.

I gotta admit, his copy
work was spot on.

Top flight.
He wrote a book?

We wrote a book.

Define "wrote."

Psych's Guide to Crime Fighting
for the Totally Unqualified.

I'm reading excerpts at
Barnes & Noble next week.

It's not official. I'm just gonna start
reading in the middle of the store

and hopefully draw a crowd.

Thank you.

Huh.

Real sweetheart, huh?

No.

Somehow, these are for you.

Let's see, let's see,
let's see who wrote me.

Huh?
Huh?

Shawn?
Yeah?

Rachael wants to talk. Okay.

This is it.

The break up has begun.

Let him cry.
We'll go.

Shawn.
Fishing.

These are delicious
beacons of heartbreak, Shawn.

They're break-up
cookies.

Gus, you just gave that
beautiful speech

about how you were gonna
be okay no matter what!

Come on! You're
beautiful, remember?

You're beautiful and...
And black.

Come on.

Ow! Ow!
Don't even think about it.

Oh, gosh. Why? My gosh.

Mmm. Mmm.

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

I know, you know