03x02 - m*rder Gras

[bunniefuu]

♪

[Splashing]

Hello, Mr. Gator.

You're gonna make
an awful nice pair of boots.

♪

Geils: Good morning, Detective.

Good morning, Detective.

Oh, my God, Geils.

Check this out!

"A rich, white man disappeared

from a swamp near New Orleans."

I guess New Orleans' string of good luck

has finally come to an end.

And he was a trophy hunter.

This could be our serial k*ller!

You mean, your serial k*ller.

You're the one with the obsession.

I'm not obsessed.

I just think he's amazing and brilliant,

and I think about him all the time.

Besides, you're the one who said
we should share our interests.

I spent hours at the
adult Lego convention.

The least you could do
is show a little bit of interest

in this m*rder.

First of all, not m*rder...
disappearance,

and people go missing all the time.

Usually, it's something benign,
like they have a second family

or they ran off to join a jam band.

What about the trophy hunting?

We're calling alligators trophies now?

I mean, it's cool
that they breathe fire,

but otherwise, they're just
big lizards that teleport.

I'm gonna look into this whether
you're interested or not.

I'll go to the Lieutenant if I have to.

Yeah, good luck with that.
Can you toss me my clothes?

Let's go.

♪

No, no, no, no, no, no!

If I knew this was the dating pool,

I would've been a better husband.

He struck again.

You're kidding.

Who cooked salmon in the microwave
at : in the morning?!

The hunter.

The hunter? Who's the hunter?

Geils: That's the nickname
Tribeca's given

the serial k*ller who's been
murdering rich white guys

and stealing their clothes
to make outfits for animals.

The hunter?

That's pretty bad-ass.

What do we know?

Charles Ravenel disappeared from a bayou

outside of New Orleans three days ago.

Everything about this
fits the profile of the Hunter.

New Orleans?

We don't investigate some
murders inside our jurisdiction

'cause they're too far.

This is N.O.P.D.!

The murders started in L.A.

Did we officially call dibs?

No, sir.

Then I don't have a leg to stand on!

Geils, you want to weigh in here?

[Ding]

I don't know, Lieutenant.

It's a real stretch,

but I'm the one that has
to sleep next to her,

so I stand by my partner.

Bring me back some maple syrup.

You got it.

And this is your lucky day

because the captain of the N.O.P.D.

just happens to be a relative of mine,

so... pack your bags.

You're headed to the Big Easy.

♪

You forget about the humidity.

No doubt.

I don't mind it.

Where's Hoffman?

He doesn't like to fly,
so he took a train.

[Shouting, thumping]

♪

[Whining]

Tanner, why don't you go find
somewhere to set up?

Geils and I will check in
with the captain.

Beau: Geils, Tribeca!

Get the hell in here!

♪

Well, don't just stand there,

gawkin' like a couple of corn husks.

Come on in!

Captain Beau Atkins at your service.

My cousin Pritikin was courteous enough

to call and alert me to your arrival.

Pleasure to meet you, Captain.

Thank you so much
for having us at your precinct.

It's much appreciated.

♪

Well, they told me you was
the difficult one,

and, boy, do you not disappoint.

Rest assured,

all our resources will
be at your disposal.

Gumbo?

Eh, if it's all the
same to you, Captain,

we would like to stow our things

and head down to the
crime scene at sunrise.

♪

"Sunrise."

[Chuckles]

Boy, oh, boy, it's gonna be a week.

We call that "dawn" down here.

I think you're gonna find
a lot of things different

from what you're used to.

Copy that, Captain.
Now, if someone could just

point me in the direction
of the bathroom.

♪

The bathroom?

[Chuckling]

Hey, Kyle!

You want to show Detective Geils
where the "bathroom" is?

Sir?

I think down here,
they call it the "restroom."

Oh, sorry... Restroom.

Oh, of course. Right this way.

And by the way...
we pronounce it "restroom."

♪

Good morning!

You must be our guests from L.A.

Detective Zachary Fontaine.

Tribeca, Geils, Tanner.

Well, welcome to New Orleans.

I understand you're taking
quite an interest

in the disappearance of Mr. Ravenel.

It's just, there are two cases in L.A.

over the past couple of months
that were very similar.

We think it might be the pattern
of a single individual.

Wouldn't an individual always be single?

Tanner: Ow! sh*t!

Oh, look there! That's a
Louisiana Biter Snake.

[Chuckles]

They do love to bite.

Can you tell us anything
about the victim,

like who kidnapped him
and where he is now?

Charles Ravenel...

real estate developer, -years-old,

never been married,

made his money
by buying affordable housing,

and then he'd raise the rents
to drive the tenants out.

Then he'd burn the buildings
to the ground

and collect the insurance money.

He's what we call "a genius."

So, some people wouldn't even mind

if something bad happened to him, huh?

Well, we have a saying down here...

"Don't share your sayings
with outsiders."

If you wouldn't mind me asking,

did you find anything in his boat?

Whoa-hoa!

There's that attitude
I've been hearing so much about.

I'll try to take that
with a grain of salt.

Yes, we found a satchel.

It had his wallet, assorted
personal items in it,

a few chips from a local
riverboat casino.

And this.

Chicken bones?
Is that a voodoo necklace?

Affirmative.

They still believe
in witchcraft down here.

I'll have you know that New Orleans is

the new epicenter of the tech industry.

You ever heard of instacom. Blam?
'Cause you will.

Yeah, you got yourself
a real silicon swamp down here.

Tribeca: All right, guys, enough.

This isn't a competition...
although we will win.

Any occurrence of the occult
in any of your previous cases?

No. No, there weren't.

Tanner, you should
probably get that looked at.

Yeah.

Weird thing is, it bit my other hand.

♪

Hey, Hoffman. How was the train?

[Growling]

Could you fax this back to Scholls

and see if she can pull
any prints or DNA?

I'm gonna go see if I can pop this.

Should we sit here?

I don't know, Tribeca... voodoo?

What are we getting mixed up in here?

You don't really believe
in that stuff, Geils, right?

Of course not... Ow!

How long have those been in there?

I know it's the Hunter.

I don't know how I know, but I know.

He wanted me to come here.

So now your serial k*ller's
a voodoo sorcerer?

The pieces aren't adding up... Aaah!

Aaaaaah! Foot cramp!

♪

Yes, I'm getting it now.

Thanks, Hoffman.

Well, I'm terribly sorry
that your case didn't get

tied up in a pretty little bow
like y'all wanted.

But at least I saved you the trouble

of having to change
your airline tickets,

so you can get outta here
ahead of schedule.

I hope you're comfortable
with the added responsibility

of sitting in an exit row.

We're not going anywhere, Fontaine.

This is our guy.

We've put all the pieces together,
and they fit perfectly.

You think I'm gonna
give this guy the satisfaction?

No way.

I'll stubbornly cling
to your idiotic theory,

thank you very much.

Now, what ridiculous hunch
of yours do we follow next?

Casino chips...

Did Ravenel have any gambling debts?

Maybe the casino sent
some g*ons to collect?

I suppose it's possible.

The chips in his bag did come from the
Rusty Trombone Riverboat Casino...

a nefarious operation at best.

Hey, Tanner.

Can you and Hoffman go down
to the Rusty Trombone

and see if Ravenel was a regular there?

On it.

And what about this guy that
called in the missing person?

Mr. Swampy Latrine...
has anybody talked to him?

Swampy's played sax for years
down at the Blue Mongoose,

a club owned by Ravenel.

And yes, I did talk to him.

We may talk a little funny,
Detective, but I assure you,

we know which end of the alligator
you want to stick your hand in.

And which end would that be?

Why don't you come down to an
alligator farm, and I'll show you.

You pay for the Uber, and I'll be there.

Detectives!

We are all on the same side...

except for you two.

Geils, we can't leave New Orleans

without hearing some jazz,
so we might as well

go down there and hear
what Mr. Latrine has to say.

Well, I've always heard jazz was stupid.

Maybe I'll give it a listen
and make up my own mind.

Go for it, don't let me
stop you from enjoying

the sights and sounds
of our lovely city.

[Sing-song] Show me your boobs!

[Jazz music plays]

Tribeca: Boy, it's dark in here.

Geils: This music is great.

It's rambling and directionless,
but I'm also bored.

Hostess: Y'all want a table?

We'll sit at the bar.

Can you let Swampy Latrine know

there's some detectives here
to talk to him?

Can I see your badge?

[Rustling]

All right, have a seat.
I'll let him know.

[Jazz music plays]

[Bar stool slides]

[Bar stool slides]

Bartender: What are you having?

Gosh, it all looks so good.
I'll have a mint julep.

- Whiskey.
- [Cheering]

Swampy Latrine: Thank you!
We're gonna take a little break.

[Music stops]

[Bar stool slides] Somebody
looking for Swampy?

Yes, Detective Angie Tribeca, L.A.P.D.

This is Detective Geils.

Tribeca: Would you mind
taking off your sunglasses, sir?

Y'all a long way from home, detectives.

What can I do you for?

I know the local police have
already talked to you

about the disappearance
of Charles Ravenel.

No, ma'am, they ain't.

You haven't been
questioned by detectives

about Ravenel's disappearance?

No, and I called them a bunch of times.

You got any idea where he is?

Not yet, we were hoping you would

shed light on the situation.

I'm as much in the dark as you,
but he owes me money.

Better not have skipped town,

or we really gonna be playing
the blues around here.

One-Eyed Willie: Let's go.
Swampy, you're back up.

One-Eyed Willie say it's time to go,

it's time to go.

Thank you, Mr. Latrine,
we'll let you know

if we track down your employer.

[Jazz music resumes]

Swampy doesn't know anything.
He just wants to get paid.

[Cheering]

I agree.


What about a disgruntled tenant
from one of his buildings?

Mm, doubt it. Nobody called in a ransom.

Why kidnap someone if you're not
gonna make money for it?

I just... keep going back to the Hunter.

I know. I saw you doodling.

Without leads or witnesses,

it's the only explanation we've got.

[Sighs]

Unless he really was k*lled
in some voodoo ritual.

Voodoo isn't real, Geils.

[Cheering]

[Cheering intensifies]

There's no such thing
as a bad lead, Tribeca.

Let's at least what the N.O.P.D.
voodoo expert has to say.

Fine.

Hey!

[Tires screech]

Eric: Come in.

I'm Detective...

Both: Tribeca. This is Geils.

We're investigating

the disappearance of Charles Ravenel.

Hey, come on in, guys.

I'm Eric. Take a seat.

This voodoo department is
way better than ours.

Actually, I'm a mentalist.

Miss Lillian, our voodoo expert,
is out sick today.

Sorry to interrupt.

Oh, not a problem.

I'm just doing tomorrow's crossword.

Now, is there something
about a necklace?

How did he know...
I can read your thoughts.

No, but that time I just saw
that she was holding a necklace.

Both: This necklace was found
in Charles Ravenel's backpack.

Hey, don't worry about it.
It's just a spill.

You know, I'm sensing
that this necklace is a fake

and can be found
in any New Orleans gift shop.

It's fake?

Why would Ravenel have
a fake voodoo necklace?

The real question is,

why would Ravenel have
a fake voodoo necklace.

You two are trying
to make your relationship work.

The sex is good.

[Chuckling] Wow!

Yeah, it's really good.

But Geils wants things

that Tribeca's just not ready to give.

- That's not true.
- That's amazing.

I hope that I was helpful.

Yes, thank you so much.

Whoa! What the hell?!

I was just trying to shake your hand.

Oh, okay.

Well, how about a little bit
of a head's up next time, huh?

Geils: Thank you.

♪

[Slot machines ringing]

You look that way,
I'm gonna check this way.

Thank you.

Welcome, sir. Where you from?

We'll get into that.

Do you know if Charles Ravenel
ever came through here?

Charles Ravenel never
set foot in this casino.

Scholls, what are you doing here?

I found some pretty interesting

forensic evidence
on that bag you sent me,

so I decided I should fly in
and deliver it right away.

No, I mean, what are you doing here?

I thought you was trying to b*at

this whole gambling thing, girl!

Get off my back!

This is my last time, I swear.

How do you know Ravenel never
came through here?

Ravenel's prints were on his
wallet and his personal items,

but none on the casino chips.

.

Sorry, ma'am, too many.

So the chips were clean?

Chips weren't clean.
There were fingerprints on them.

Just not Ravenel's.

Blackjack.

Better luck next time.

Any idea who?

The prints match those of a small-time
crook named Calvin Sniglet.

Blackjack.

Ooh, , so close.

So he had run-ins with the N.O.P.D.

Actually, all of his run-ins
were with the L.A.P.D.

What? See, now I'm confused.

Sir, you're gonna want to split those.

Split away, bro.

Blackjack.

Blackjack.

[Giggles]

- .
- Ugh.

Tonight's just not your night.

Well, let me get on out of here
and go tell Tribeca everything

I found out about Sniglet, all right?

Whoo!

Yes.

Uh, are you coming?

In a minute.

The craps table looks like
it's really heating up.

[Barks]

[Cheering]

♪

Calvin Sniglet... breaking and entering,

trespassing, as*ault... all in L.A.

Well, why is he here?
What connects him to Ravenel?

And why are his prints
on the chip in Ravenel's bag?

And which Wi-Fi network are y'all using?

All I know is, we got to cr*ck this

'cause I can't stand one more minute

of looking at Fontaine's smug mug.

Have you noticed that every lead
Detective Fontaine has given us

has been a wild-goose chase?

The chip, the voodoo necklace.

Plus, Swampy Latrine said
he never even met Fontaine.

And that jambalaya place he recommended

gave me the worst diarrhea
I've had in nine years.

Excuse me, Captain. Sorry to bother you.

That's all right, Tribeca.
I'm starting to like the sass.

Do you know if
Detective Fontaine is in today?

I'm sorry, who that now?

Detective Zachary Fontaine.

We met him at the scene of the crime.

Whoa, whoa, whoa.

It's not N.O.P.D. policy to go
to the scene of the crime.

I don't know who it is
you thought you saw there,

but if it was one of my detectives,

I'd have his badge.

Are you saying that there's
no Detective Fontaine

that works in this precinct?

That is what I'm telling you.

What if Fontaine is actually
Calvin Sniglet?

What if Sniglet... is the Hunter?

Wait, wait, wait,
I thought the Hunter's name

was Robin Dorsay.

Watch this.

Calvin Sniglet.

And look at his record...
all animal-rights stuff.

Breaking and entering into
a trophy hunting guide business,

trespassing on a big-game reserve,

stuffing bunnies down his
pants at a pet store.

And look at their photos side by side.

See the similarities?

Fontaine, A.K.A. Dorsay, A.K.A. Sniglet,

has been playing us this whole time.

He's like steps ahead of us.

God, he's so smart.

He really cares about the world.

He's probably a great conversationalist.

He's a serial k*ller
and a total douche bag,

and not that I'm keeping score,

but I have seven, and he has five.

Look, he just swiped his credit
card at a motel outside of town.

That's where he's holding Ravenel.

I'd bet my doomed relationship on it.

What did she say?

♪

[g*n cocks]

[Clears throat]

Thank you.

[Tires squeal]

Freeze! Hold it right there.

[Sighs] It's Ravenel. We're too late.

There's a note taped to his chest.

"Better luck next time."

And then, there's just letters.

"C.U. next Tuesday."

He's gonna strike again.

♪

Good evening, Detective.

Oh, Geils.

You don't have to wait on me
hand and foot.

I like doing it.

I mean, when you meet the person
you're gonna be with

for the rest of your life and in heaven,

you don't mind doing things for them.

Thanks.

Oh. Aah.

Hey, I don't mean to be a bug,

but if you want to get a cabin
for Halley's Comet,

they're going pretty fast.
When is that again?

July .

I'm gonna brush my teeth.

[Sighs]

[Sighs]