07x14 - No Trout About It

[bunniefuu]

Hi. I'm Felicia.

Ah. Hi, Felicia.
I'm Henry.

Wanna run together?

Only if you can keep up.

Runners! On your marks, get set, go!

Pace yourself.
Pace yourself.

Hi. Hey.

Whoa, whoa, whoa!

Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!
Oh, gosh!

Oh!
What?

Don't hit any humans!

I got it, Shawn!
I know what to do.

Get out of my way!
I'm a psychic, damn it!

Do you do a lot
of these things?

No... Look out!

What kind of idiot drives
down a public pathway?

That's my dad!

What?
Hey, Dad!

Shawn!

We are gonna catch this son
of a bitch or die trying.

Oh!
Hee!

Heck of a way to start
a holiday weekend.

Crime fighting isn't
always tidy, Chief.

That is the bargain
the citizens make

in exchange for their protection,
and they're fine with it.

Not according
to the complaints.

They're calling for our heads.

Who is?

I'm talking to you.
Would you look... Look at me!

I will not wait
here in the lobby.

What the hell kind of a Mickey Mouse
operation are you running around here?

Karen!

So, our new mayor has put every
city agency on a hot seat.

And after today's debacle,

our butts just got a
whole lot warmer. Hmm.

So, the Mayor's decided
to send over a consultant

to hold us accountable.

You cannot be serious.

Who is this consultant?

Mr. Harris Trout.

What kind of name is that?

Look, just be warned,

this is one
manipulative S.O.B.

He's the kind that'll use
silence as a tactic.

Ah, silences
make me uncomfortable.

It's all right, Gus,
I'm sure you'll be just...

Don't do that, Shawn!

Who the hell is this Trout
to tell me how to do my job?

I'll tell you
exactly who I am!

I was a police chief in both
Baltimore and Philadelphia.

Before that, I served as an
officer in the city of Newark,

eventually rising to the rank
of executive superintendent.

I'm also a consultant on a
show called Badge and Honor.

And I won an Emmy for my episode
called "My Hymie's Homie".

Now, one of those things
is actually untrue,

but I highly doubt
you'll figure out which.

Mr. Trout, it's an honor.

Put it there.

So, is Trout
a family name, or...

Um...

I had waffles for
breakfast this morning.

Wanna hear my shoulder click?

Let's begin, ladies.
Let's begin.

Okay, here's the bad news.

- You're fired.
- What?

Here's the good news.

You have the chance now to
tell me why you shouldn't be.

I intend to save the taxpayers
millions of dollars

by trimming the workforce
into a new model

of precision and efficiency.

Why not just hire
a bunch of robots?

Trust me, I would have,

had the prototype I helped
design not malfunctioned.

The Harris-X50 strangled
one jaywalker

and now it's doing tour buses.

I don't know,
Mr. Trout.

Seems to me that the department's
in pretty good shape.

I mean, over the last
seven years we've solved

something in the
neighborhood of, what,

100 homicides.

Wow. Well, the fact that Santa
Barbara is m*rder central

suggests a major
lack of deterrent.

All right? Now we're listening.
Okay. Good.

In truth, you're
kind of a joke.

People love to laugh.

And be held down and tickled.

So you must be
the psychic detective?

Shawn Spencer,
this is my partner,

Burton Trout.
No relation.

I don't believe in psychics.

Well, I can assure
you, we're very real.

Not unlike the Yeti and
all of his play friends.

Mmm. Prove yourself to me.
Come on. Read me.

Oh, it doesn't...

It doesn't quite work like that...

Mr. Trout.

But, I guess in your case,

I can make an exception.

I am sensing that you
are approximately 41,

nay, 42 years old.

You are a germaphobe, an obsessive
hand washer and hand wrangler.

You're a big fan
of the Dyson Airblade

because of the way it makes
you feel in other places.

You hail from Buffalo,

your favorite sport
is basketball.

And you had a golden
retriever named Buddy

that was a very lonely boy's only
friend in the whole wide world.

How does that smell?
Like bacon?

You believe in psychics
now, Mr. Troutman?

No, in fact, even less than
I did two minutes ago.

Buffalo and
the hand washing thing

could have been derived
through observation.

But I got no idea where
you got the basketball

or the golden retriever thing.

He watched Air Bud last night.

Speaking of which,

the director's commentary
on that DVD is absurd.

All he keeps talking about is

"Motif this and subtext
that." And the dog?

"Woof, woof, woof-woof."

No matter what the question is.
Dude.

Okay. Walk me through
today's fiasco,

and leave nothing out.

Uh... Okay.

I guess it started off like any
other run of the mill case.

Gus and I were
in the Psych office,

reviewing old files.

I'm clearly winning.
Don't count me out!

Don't count me out!
I'm fading!

A guy walks in.

I'm fading like a flower!

Very sweaty, breathing heavy.
Quite disgusting.

I need you to help me
find a m*rder*r.

Whose m*rder*r?
Mine.

Wow.

I thought you said it was
a run of the mill case?

Welcome to Santa Barbara,
Mr. Trout.

I know, you know
That I'm not telling the truth

I know, you know
They just don't have any proof

Embrace the deception
Learn how to bend

Your worst inhibitions tend
to psych you out in the end

I know, you know

So, a disgusting, sweaty man
asks you to find his m*rder*r.

That's correct.

Oh, no. Please
continue, psychic.

Okay. Uh...

He said that his
name was Leo Quinn,

and that he had been poisoned.

My name is Leo Quinn

and I've been poisoned.

Ooh.
Poisoned?

Gus here thinks he gets
poisoned 10 times a year.

It's never once been true.
Not yet.

What are you doing?

Man, for all you know, this guy
looks like this every day.

Hey. I... I know
I'm no Adonis,

but 10 hours ago, I'm a
normal, healthy man.

Now look at me.

It's not great.

When I started to feel
sick, I went to the ER

and got a blood test.

The doctor just called.

It's poison.

The doctor said that?

Naturally, Gus and I
wanted to confirm this,

so we took him back to the ER.

He's been exposed to
sodium monofluoroacetate,

or Compound 1080.

It's a highly toxic poison used
for large-scale pest control.

You believe me now?

What did I tell you?

Doctor, I think I need
to be admitted.

He's not contagious.

Will you excuse me, please?
Look, Doc,

how do you think he got it?

Well, maybe he ingested
it or had skin contact.

But it's definitely not
something he'd be exposed to

in the normal course of things.
Ah. Ah!

Unless someone gave it
to him intentionally.

Oh, God! So, what's
the next step?

Do you guys have
the antidote here,

do I get medevaced somewhere?

What are my chances?

What are our chances, Doctor?

It's not contagious.

We'll do everything
we can to help you,

but I've never seen anyone
survive this level of toxicity.

Now, most people succumb
within 48 hours.

You're joking, right?

So, I really am a dead man?

You should do whatever you can to get
your affairs in order. I'm sorry.

Mmm. Well.
That's dramatic.

Anybody eating these donuts?

Oh, yes.
I'll have one.

- Well, I'll split one with someone, yeah.
- Okay.

Okay, next.

I guess it's fair for
me to assume that you

did not follow procedure and immediately
contact the department though, right?

That is where you would
be wrong, Mr. Trout.

The first call I made
was to the department.

Sorry, sweetie.
I have to whisper,

because I'm standing near a guy
who's gonna be dead very soon.

Okay, I will.

Smoochy, smoochy... No,
you smoochy, smoochy.

No. Smoochy to you.

No, I meant a call to
report the alleged m*rder.

Oh. No, no.
We didn't do that.

Though, in our defense,

I must say, when one is
facing their own mortality,

you do tend to want to
connect with loved ones.

Personally, I'm in between
relationships right now.

Dating can be tough. You
know, I don't wanna settle.

You know, sometimes, being
alone is a good thing.

And other times, you know,
the touch of a woman is...

Gus...

So, you two are an item?

For the record, I always
thought it was unprofessional.

Oh!
You're one to talk.

You married a felon you
helped put in jail!

She's a rehabilitated felon.

Because the system works.

Wait, could we just please
stick to the point?

At least I'm not a part
time stripper like McNab!

McNab's a stripper?

Oh, you were so hammered at the
bachelorette party, you wouldn't remember.

Okay, enough!

Um, Mr. Spencer, please.

Buh, buh, buh, buh, buh.
One sec here.

You guys are practically writing
my next episode of Badge.

Good stuff here.

Well, this is a cr*ck
unit you got here.

You must be very proud of them.
Very proud of them.

No, please continue here.
Please.

All right, well,

as you can imagine,
Leo was very upset.

I can't believe I'm dead!
There's so much I haven't done.

I was gonna learn Mandarin,

I was gonna start yoga, I
was gonna upgrade to Mac

because all of the computers in
my office are... SHAWN: Leo...

Leo, I think you're
spiraling a little bit.

Yeah, I'm entitled!

Leo, think, did anyone
have it out for you?

Want you dead?
I'm a small time lawyer.

I mostly work pro-bono.
I'm one of the good guys.

People like me.

No, this is not happening!
'Cause I'm fine.

Come.
I feel fine.

He's experiencing denial. It's
one of the five stages of grief.

Five? What, you think he
has time for all of those?

I mean, maybe he
should just pick two.

You can't choose.

Rita!

What am I gonna tell my wife?

She's on a flight from visiting
her mom in Mexico City.

I have to pick her up
at the airport.

No, no, no.
Leo.

You're in no shape for that.

Easy, easy. The hell I'm not!
I have to tell her in person!

No, Leo... Whoa...
Don't you touch me!

What's
wrong with you?

You saw him reach out.

He's poisoned, Shawn. He is not contagious!
Let's get him up.

Not contagious.
I'm not trying to die!

We told him that
we would pick up Rita.

And when we asked him what
she looked like, he said,

"You just go look
for an angel."

It's safe to say that
"angel" is a relative term.

Just look for
a female version of Leo

and we'll be in the ballpark.

Uh, Rita Quinn?

You sure? There's
no shame in it.

Rita Quinn?

Lost money on that.

Ah! Gus!
She's perfect.

Who?
Right there.

That's a dude, Shawn. Oh...

That's Dreyfuss from Jaws.

I'm Rita Quinn.
Uh...

Not the Rita Quinn
we're looking for.

We're looking for
a Leo Quinn's wife.

I'm Leo Quinn's wife.

Just a moment.
Excuse me.

No way.
Wow.

Not even on a good hair day,

and he's not sick
does Leo pull that off.

Love is blind, Shawn.
Yeah, but she isn't.

No.
No, she is not.

Why the hell are you
telling me this part?

I am simply attempting to highlight
our process for you, sir.

Rita asked us who we were

and where her husband was.

I'm Shawn Spencer.
This is my partner,

"Bad News" Marvin Barnes.

I have bad news.

Leo's been poisoned.
He's in the hospital.

He probably won't make it.

Feel free to emote now.

I'm... I'm shocked. I
don't know what to say.

Maybe you wanna go see him?
Yeah, you know?

Comfort him?
Of course!

Yes, we'll go see him.
Let's go see him.

So, we took
Rita to see Leo.

Oh...

Dude, there were
no airline tags on her bag.

Oh, God.

And, dude... Yeah. Yeah.

Obviously,

I was skeptical of the
stupidly hot Latina

married to
the Travelocity gnome.

I was also sensing papers.
Non-US issue.

Certificado del birth.
And a name.

Vasquez.

"Rita, someday, you
will go to the Americas

"and marry
a white man."

You see, Rita Vasquez... Married
Leo Quinn for citizenship

and now she was gonna off him

to upgrade the husband
position, right?

Jes!

And yes.
All right.

And I was pretty damn sure
she hadn't been to Mexico City either.

Why is that? Because my
senses never lie, Mr. Trout.

Neither do my hips.

Hello?

Hello?
Hi...

Is this the Vasquez residence?

Yes.

May I please be having
speaks with Marga-Rita?

This is her father.

Rita hasn't been here in almost two years.
Who is this?

You see, Rita was
suspect numero one.

And when we found out she'd gone
home to collect Leo's things,

we paid her a surprise visit.

After you contacted
the police, right?

Most definitely.

- You never contacted us.
- I left a message.

With who?

With Jeff...

Mormen... Son.

Officer Mormenson.

He's brand new.
You don't know him.

I never got that message. What's his name, Mormenson?
Did you get the message?

Jesus, Lassie!
You're k*lling me here, man.

Oh, that message, of course.

Rita?

Rita?

Gus?

Yeah.

Things officially
just got hairy.

Just got hairy?

Santa Barbara style.

Why? Because I don't believe you.
Because you can't be trusted.

No, no. Because you're a liar.
You're a liar.

Yeah. I should probably
start doing the talking now.

Spencer's already out on his ass and
I've still got a pension to fight for.

What about me? I have to
distance myself from this.

I'm the girlfriend.
No offense.

Hmm?
I wasn't listening.

What am I doing here?

You... No, you raised...
No, you raised your voice.

Look. No one is losing
their job over this.

His bark is much
worse than his bite.

No, no, no. No, no. You
are on your own now!

Okay? Don't ever
call me again!

Mothers! Anyway.

So where were we?

So, you find the poisoned
guy's sexy wife, sh*t dead.

And was this finally enough to
compel you to call the police?

You know, perhaps,
I should take over now

seeing how I was the
senior officer on duty.

At this juncture, the consultant
notified the police department

of a possible 187.

I checked out the scene
to examine the 419.

I procured entrance to the residence, where
I took over control of the crime scene,

from the backup,
which was already on site.

Looks like we've got
50 shades of gray

matter.

That's not even remotely
how it went down. Nope.

I am telling the story now.

All right.
Stand down, Caruso.

Keep going.

Okay, we opened
Rita's suitcase.

That is one sexy book club.

It's just books and panties.

It's a burner.

Totally untraceable.

The only people who use these
things are lowlife criminals

like drug dealers, t*rrorists
and people with subpar credit.

Let's see what sordidness
is on the voice mail.

Look what I found
in her closet.

There's more, all in the
original packaging.

And these clothes with
store tags still on them.

Rita had some sticky fingers.

And exquisite taste.

Listen to this.

Hey, babe, it's Chuck.
Missing you already.

Who's Chuck?
Not Leo.

That's who Chuck is.

Meanwhile, we had to deliver the
news of Rita's untimely death to poor Leo.

She was the most wonderful
woman on earth.

I'll be with you
soon, senorita!

Uh... Now may be a
good time to ask about payment.

You are the devil!

First of all, Shawn,
the devil is white.

Look, Leo. We spent
some time with Rita.

Okay, sure, she filled out
that dress nicely.

What? Yeah. But what aren't
you telling us, man?

Look,

Rita had her problems.

Iffy friends. Shoplifting.
But I rehabilitated her.

She loved me.

Maybe not
as much as he thought.

Why do you keep whispering?

It's very rude.
Is it?

Well, the clock
is ticking, Leo!

You want us to find your
k*ller before you die?

Then give us something, man.

Give us something we can use.

That's it.
My life is...

Was normal.

The only thing
out of the ordinary is

a couple days ago,
local police called to say

that my office had
been broken into and...

But nothing was taken.

You didn't think that was
something worth sharing?

I didn't think
it was a big deal.

Besides, they said it was
probably just some kids.

Well, guess what? We're
gonna check that out.

So give us an address.
No.

I'll take you myself.
What?

Come on, Leo, that's sloppy.
Just stay in bed.

I'm not gonna get any sicker!

Please don't make me spend my
last precious moments in an ER.

All right.

He actually had
a decent point.

So we convinced the doctor

to give him some pretty
intense pain medication.

Shame on you, man.

Shame on me?

And we all went to his office.

Hey. I got tons
of stuff here,

nobody stole anything.

I made that.

I'm a Duran-y.

Rio is my favorite song of all time.
It's pure poetry.

It's really not. Now if you had
said, uh, Hungry Like the Wolf,

View to a k*ll,

or even The Reflex, you would
have had an argument, but...

Shawn, let the man have this.
No.

No.

Whoa! I am sensing
that someone

tried to access
this filing cabinet.

Why?

It's just people's records.
There's...

What?

Talk to me, Goose.

Oh, my God.
Mrs. Lauderbach.

Mrs. Lauder... What?

My one wealthy client.

I had a duplicate of her safe
deposit key taped here. It's gone.

What's in the safety
deposit box?

Ten million in flawless,
gem quality diamonds.

So, Quinn had the power of attorney
over Lauderbach's account?

But the key was
useless on its own.

You had to get a bank
employee to use their key

in conjunction with
Lauderbach's to open the box.

Oh!

I can't even begin to
apologize, Mrs. Lauderbach.

Oh, it's not your fault.

You're a good boy, Leo.

So, what? You just let anyone
with a key waltz in here

and steal an old woman's
hard-earned diamonds?

It's impossible!

We keep a log of anyone
who accesses these boxes.

See? No one on
Mrs. Lauderbach's behalf,

or anyone associated with her estate
has come to access her box recently.

Or it would have been recorded!

You think we could get a
look at your security tapes?

Right there.
Pause.

Can you blow it up?

Who the hell is that?

Uh, I'm sensing that
it is a V. Manus.

That's right.

Victor Manus is the
owner of box number 27.

But Manus was a fraud.

A fake person. The only Victor Manus
listed in any database was dead by 1923.

Hmm.

And what did you make...
I'm sorry, hold on a second.

Damn it! I said
stop calling me!

Drive yourself, Mom!

Drive yourself! You can drive.
You have a license.

I'm work...

She hung up.

So what did you make of that?

What did
we make of it?

That someone posing as Victor Manus
acquired the safety deposit box

next to Mrs. Lauderbach's.

He signed the log, he went
into the safety deposit room.

He acted as though he was
gonna open box 27, but then,

he slipped his little,
tiny key into box 26.

But you said you needed two keys. I mean,
there must have been an accomplice here.

That's right,
Mr. Trout. And his name

was Charles Sax.

A bank employee that we learned
quit his job one day later.

Charles Sax was very likely

"Chuck," the man who left the amorous
voice-mail on Rita's machine.

So we believe that
Sax and Rita were...

Were having an affair.

So, Rita got so sick of being
stuck with poor, pathetic Leo

that she takes up with Sax and they hatch
a plot to rip off the old broad, right?

But the joke's on Rita when
Sax and Manus k*ll her

and keep the diamonds for themselves.
And just to be safe,

these two criminal
masterminds neutralize Leo,

eliminating all possible
trails to themselves.

Scumbag 101.
Class dismissed.

Pleasure to
watch you work, sir.

So, we tracked down Sax.

He was the only name we knew.

He wasn't at his residence. He
didn't work at the bank anymore.

But I had a pretty good
sense of where to find him.

So, we left Leo in Gus' car.
He needed to relax.

Let me go with you.
Uh... You stay here.

You've been brave enough
for one day, soldier.

He can't die there, Shawn.
It's a company car.

I once left a half-eaten sandwich
in there and I caught hell for it.

Don't die!
I'll try.

Hi there!
Hello.

We're looking for Sax.

Eh... Excuse me?

Do you have a Charles
Sax registered here?

Um...
No Charles Sax.

Charlie? No.
Chuck? No.

I bet you it's Chaz. Chaz Sax?

I bet you it's... No.
No Sax of any kind.

This is a monumental waste of time.
Let's go.

How about a Victor Manus?

Yes...

We do have a Victor.

He is in room 312.

I sensed that "Victor Manus"
was the g*ng's go-to alias.

I sensed the exact same thing.

That is a bald-faced lie.
You're a bald-faced lie.

Keep going.

Housekeeping.

Hello, Chuck.

Hello.

Where's Manus, if
that's his real name?

It wasn't my idea.

I'm just a guy who
works in a bank.

Bathroom's clear.

There's
nowhere to go but down.

I know where Manus is.

I'll tell you his real name.

I could have been smoking
these my whole life.

Nice.

So, keep going.

Uh, so we've got two dead bodies
and one more circling the drain.

How close are we to the part
where you guys turned a 10k

into a bad episode of CHiPs?

First of all, there are
no bad episodes of CHiPs.

What about the one where Ponch
was plagued with bad luck

after they pulled over a
van full of black cats?

That was character enrichment, Gus.
Mmm, no.

Let me speed this along. After Sax got
sh*t, we took Leo back to the hospital

because Gus was afraid his car was
going to smell like dead dude.

No, I wanted to get Leo
some more pain meds. Liar.

The poison specifically targets
the liver, which is the reason

for the yellow
eye discoloration.

Oh, man, Leo.

I need you to do two things.

See that I'm cremated. I don't
want people to see me like this.

And catch the person
that did this to me.

Hey.

You have our word.

Not contagious.

It was late. So we stopped
for a quick dinner.

Cheers.

Aw, what?

Then we went home, slept
for just a few hours,

met bright and early the next
morning for a quick breakfast.

Ah, there it is.

Nice.

Then, we started tracking
down our suspect.

Okay. The mustached
man posing as Manus,

who k*lled Rita Quinn and Charles Sax because
he didn't want to split the diamonds.

Spot on again, sir.

Look, your butt kissing is chapping my ass.
Cut it out, Detective.

Yes, sir.
Um, we believe

that if we discover Victor Manus'
true identity, then we also...

Uh, hold on a second,
cupcake. Wait a minute.

Oh, that's good.

All right, so go ahead. Um...

If we find his true identity,
then we would find the k*ller

and also the diamonds.

So Shawn and I went back to Leo
to try to find a new lead.

Leo?

But alas,
we were too late.

I'm sorry.

He just passed away.
What?

We were devastated.

Did he, by chance leave any money
or a check addressed to Psych?

For different reasons,
of course.

Do you think that's what
Jesus would ask right now?

Yes, because he needed
money for sandals. Hmm.

Uh, I don't believe so.

Man!
But look,

we'll run an autopsy just to
confirm the diagnosis, but, uh,

I have no doubts.
I'm sorry.

But the next day, we got a
call from the local mortician.

And it turns out good old Leo
left us a little something.

Here you go.

Hot out of the oven.

His ashes.

Yep, 12 ounces of disgusting,
cindered, ginger dead dude.

He asked us to sprinkle those
ashes off Stern's Wharf.

It was the only Jewish wharf
in all of Santa Barbara,

so it felt like the
very least we could do.

Okay. So, you stopped your
investigation to do this.

Of course not, that would've
been completely irresponsible.

No, we put it in the
back of my car.

We were planning
on doing it later.

That's right,
but then...

Something happened.

Don't even tell me...
No!

Oh, my...

You said it was cake mix!

No, I never said that.
Yes, you did.

You said you and Gus
were gonna go home

and you were gonna make
homemade Twinkies!

Okay. Now, you're just
making stuff up, sweetie.

You son of a bitch!

Hey!
Hey!

Oh, Carlton! Carlton, let him go!
Carlton. Just... Carlton!

Gus, get him off of me!
Carlton, stop it!

Are you crazy? He's covered
in dead dude, Shawn.

That's enough!

You guys are behaving like my
nephews, Noah, Ryder and Steven!

And I hate my nephews!

And if you met them,
you'd hate them too.

And that would make a lot more sense.
Continue.

Okay. So,

in addition to the ashes,

Leo also left us a few of
his random personal items.

And a note.

Addressed to the two of us.

It turned out to be
pretty invaluable.

Shawn and Gus, don't
see yourselves as failures

for not finding my k*ller.

The fact that I feel that way is
irrelevant, because I am dead now.

What are you...
What are you doing?

Trying to recoup some of
the money he owes us.

What, by stealing his stapler?

These things are worth two
bucks on eBay, Shawn.

It's weird and sad
that you know that.

Just know that I have total
faith that you'll catch them,

and that you'll dispose of my ashes in
the respectful manner that I requested.

An electric pencil sharpener.
Cha-ching!

I just wish I had
given you more to go on.

So, as I lay here,
writing my final words,

a name comes to mind that I
feel may be worth looking into.

It's a former client
by the name of Curtis Stanzen.

Got it.

Got it.
What's his deal?

Whoa! He has quite
the arrest record, huh?

as*ault, burglary, possession.
And, of course...

Identity fraud.

So, we grabbed
a healthy snack

and we shared our totally awesome
lead with Lassie and Jules.

This is a BS lead.

One more lick of that thing and your
tongue is going to be permanently green.

And it's 100% worth it.

If you two children are ready,
let's get this boondoggle underway.

Lassie, you know Stanzen is a
supplier of counterfeit IDs.

He could be our link
to Victor Manus.

This is no boondoggle!

What's a boondoggle?

SBPD!

Can you use it in a sentence?
Of course I can.

Is it one part baboon
and one part puggle?

Oh. What is that noise?

Oh, that is a lawn mower.

Or possibly a go cart
with a lawn mower engine.

It's a motorcycle.
It's a motorcycle!

Son of a bitch!

What are you doing?
You just...

You idiot!

Oh, gosh!

Gus, I don't think
this lid is sealed!

Oh, no!

Oh!

I know this part.
Right.

So, the cars collide,
smashy-smashy, we all get out.

You son of a...

Where did you
learn how to drive?

Sweetie!
What is this stuff?

Cake... Cake mix.

Oh.

Sweetie, I did say that.
Mmm-hmm.

You son of a bitch!

Spencer, continue
telling the story

or I'm gonna blast you like a frigging
wayward tugboat. Don't play me!

Okay, that's fair.

We were all afraid
that Stanzen had escaped.

Then we realized something.

Uh-oh!

Get up, Stanzen!

Get up!

He's dead.

Ah, crap!

Looks like
he's our Man-us.

I guess the crash k*lled him.

Whoa.

...with a little bit
of poison

called WD-40.

Compound 1080!

I've heard it both ways.
No, you haven't.

You know what's even more tired than
me saying I've heard it both ways?

Me saying no, you haven't?
That's right.

Agree to disagree.

It's a diagnosis that is confirmed
by the toxicology report.

Apparently, it is estimated that the poison
had been in his system for over 36 hours.

Hmm. So your theory that the
k*ller was a fellow heist member

no longer holds water.
Why?

'Cause they're all dead!

Well, we actually believe

that there's a fourth member
that hadn't been accounted for.

Hmm. That's fascinating.

So, who do you surmise
this person might be?

Any ideas?

I'll go around
the room. Anyone?

How about you, Magic Mike?

I actually dance by the
name Morning Wood.

Oh...
Of course you do.

Morning Wood.

Get him out of here.

Okay, look. In my
officers' defense,

it's kind of hard
to find suspects

when they've been answering
questions in a room all day.

You know what? I have to
concur with the Chief here.

While we were sitting here
giving you a play-by-play,

our k*ller could be
halfway to Tanzania.

Holy crap!

I know who the k*ller is.

So, who's the k*ller then?
The bank manager?

Mrs. Lauderbach?
The snow cone guy?

The desk clerk
at the hotel?

You guys are
forgetting someone.

Maybe it was my mom, Sherlock.
She's a squirrely little bat.

Judas Priest, man, just
tell us who it is!

He was right in front
of us the whole damn time.

Quinn?

I thought he was dead.

So did I. My senses,
however, weren't so sure.

And then the Chief put this
very close to my face.

It tells us two things.

One, Curtis Stanzen bore a striking
resemblance to Kyle Bornheimer.

Two, he showed all the telltale
symptoms of Blink 182 poisoning.

Compound 1080.

Exactly.

So, what's your point, Spencer?

The point is, Leo didn't.

Meaning he was just
pretending to be poisoned.

And why would he do that?

Because no one
looks for a dead man.

Wait, wait, wait. Could someone
just please back us up a bit?

My pleasure, Chief.

You see, Leo was stuck in a crap job with
a philandering but smoking hot wife.

So, he hatched
the following plan,

use Rita's special friend,
Charles Sax, from the bank.

Break into his office and
steal Mrs. Lauderbach's key.

Thus absolving Leo
of any future guilt.

Then he had Sax and Stanzen
steal the diamonds.

But this is Leo.
He's miserable.

His wife bangs everybody. He
wants the diamonds for himself.

He feels like he deserves them.

But if he runs off, his
partners are gonna chase him.

If he kills his partners,
the cops are gonna get him.

So with the help
of Dr. Umma...

Umma, who I'll get to
in a minute,

he made it appear as if
he had been poisoned.

Then he hires us
to further the ruse

and inform his co-conspirators
that they may be in danger too.

By k*lling Rita, he's got Sax
and Stanzen so freaked out,

each of them are trying
to k*ll the other.

Well, we know Stanzen
b*at Sax to that punch.

Now, Leo only has one more
heist member to eliminate.

- Stanzen.
- Correct.

But he got that ball
rolling 36 hours earlier,

when he slipped him
a little P90X.

Compound 1080!

I don't know why I'm having
so much trouble with that.

It's a little silly.

Anyway...

Stay in your own lane. Don't
worry about what I'm doing.

Okay. Leo's got
two things left to do.

One, stage his own death.

Two, get rid of the last guy
he owes money to,

Dr. Umma.

So he k*lled two birds.

Now that he had
double-crossed Umma,

Umma, along with everyone else,

he was free to go live anywhere
he wanted as a rich dead man.

Leaving us to look for a fourth
member that doesn't exist.

It's pretty genius
when you think about it.

But I don't think we should sit
around here thinking about it,

'cause I have a pretty
good idea where he is.

Thanks, Chief.

All right. No one
is going anywhere.

Because I'm suspending all of
you from this investigation.

What?

Okay, all right.

I get it.

Your job is to come down here, squeeze
some grapes, ruffle some feathers.

You did it. Why are you gonna suspend us?
I mean, on what grounds?

Essentially, you assisted in
the plan of a murdering thief.

Oh, come on. Even you yourself
didn't know it was Quinn.

You know why? Because my head was spinning
from the rampant disregard for procedure

and the jaw-dropping
unprofessionalism.

Examples,

inter-office dating,
desecration of human remains,

choking a fellow officer.

Man-stripping.
And man-stripping.

Gus! The silence kills me.

Ugh! So we're just
gonna let Quinn go?

No, I'm appointing officer Dobson lead
on the case effective immediately.

Dobson? He doesn't know
anything about it.

Plus, he's lazy. Oh, really?
Here's another fact.

Tonight I'm delivering a
scathing report to the Mayor

on this crap omelet you
guys call a department,

and then I'm out of this melanoma
factory first thing in the a.m. Copy?

Until then,
you're all suspended.

Chief, you can't just
let this happen.

Sorry, but my hands are tied.

So, I guess there's
nothing we can do.

Yep.

Absolutely nothing.

Dr. Richard Umma,
please come to the front desk.

Dr. Richard Umma.

Well, hello, Doctor,

you'll be pleased to know that
you've been upgraded today.

To prison. Remember Oz?
It's just like that.

Except there is no wizard.

How'd you know?

Well, for starters,
you chose a destination

straight out of
your favorite song.

Rio. Which is the name
of a girl in the song,

not the actual place.

And secondly, you forgot to remove a
teeny thing from the doctor's body

before you rolled
him into the morgue.

His hearing aid.
His hearing aid, Leo!

The jig's up, man.

I guess it is.
I guess it is.

They always run.

The jig is up, Quinn.

Stop saying that!

Oh, man. I must've smashed
into a dirty tray

back at that lounge.

I've got ketchup all over me.

We're covered in human ash!

It's not a competition, Jules.

Uh-oh.

All right, let's
take our medicine.

You just...

Stay strong, okay?
I got it, Shawn.

Back to work.

Oh, my God.

I thought for sure one
of us was getting fired.

Chief?

I got a six-month suspension.

No! It could
have been a lot worse.

That is so unfair!

We're the ones who
ignored the order.

Which is exactly what I was
hoping that you would do.

Look, I'm not going to pretend that
I run the tightest department,

and in fact
it's often a circus,

but I stand by the results.

So, when it comes to
pissing off a bureaucrat

or going out and
catching the bad guys,

I will choose the
latter every time.

So do not worry.

This is a sword
I'm happy to fall on.

I'm gonna miss you, man.

And I you...

On occasion.

Now,

if you'll excuse me,

I get to pick up my daughter from school
for the first time in six months.

Hey, Morning Fart,

I want her office cleared
out immediately, please.

And clear out your own too.

You're also fired.

But I don't have an office.

Fantastic, then grab your
bowtie and your thong

and hit the bricks.

Hey, Trout!

I wanna get something
off my chest.

That's a job for the world's
strongest waxer, isn't it?

You just suspended the greatest chief
of police in this city's history.

Which spans, what?
50 years?

Okay. Look, we know you don't
like it here, but guess what?

The feeling is mutual.

Because you waltz in here
acting like you fix problems,

when in reality, you're
the one causing them

by getting in the way of hardworking
police officers like us.

And semi-hardworking
psychics!

And their black partners.

Who also sell pharmaceuticals
on the side, Mr. Sandman.

So, why don't you just
shuffle on back to Buffalo

knowing that the only people you've
helped here are the criminals.

And if you're wondering who ate
the rest of your Balance Bar,

look no further than this.

- Because it was me.
- Suck it!

Well, that was good to know.

But I have news for all of you,

I'm staying.

And you know why?

Because you're the new
interim chief of police.

Correct.

Effective immediately.

It will be a pleasure
working with you, sir.

This doesn't make any sense.
I mean, you...

You hate it here. I do,
but I hate it everywhere.

Listen, I don't want
you guys to worry.

I'm not gonna make
any drastic changes.

Other than the fact that we'll
no longer be hiring psychics

and you're no longer
head detective.

And I'm painting these walls.

Suck it!

He sang our song.

It's on now.

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