Doctor Strode, does the name Bob White
mean anything to you?
Is he a children's clown? No.
Adults only clown?
No. He's not a clown of any sort.
You performed an autopsy on him two nights ago.
He was hit by a bus.
Oh! Of course. I'm sorry.
Yeah, I often confuse clowns and bus victims.
Yeah, yeah, that was a... That was a tragic accident.
Or was it?
It is very possible that it was not
and that you made a mistake.
Ah, no. No, Chief, I don't make mistakes.
Says the guy who left his keys
in an old lady's spleen last month.
Oh, please, Detective, like you've never
lost your keys.
Do you remember a missing ear lobe?
Well, this woman does.
She is the mortician who was in the process
of embalming Mr. White
when she discovered the inconsistency.
Hello, Woodrow.
Hello, Grace.
You two know each other?
Oh, Doctor Strode and I were in forensic school together.
We were also briefly lovers.
Ew.
The ear lobe was sliced prior to quietus
and certainly not by a tire.
The incision was clean, precise
as though made by a box cutter or something.
This was no accident.
The Woody I know would
never have missed something like this.
Ah, no, the blood alcohol was 0.31.
He passes out, falls.
I mean, Chief, look, I may have missed this detail
but I still don't know that this was a murder.
I mean, clowns fall.
I got to tell you, Woody, I'm getting a little fed up with this sloppy work.
Okay, if the Wood man says it's an accident, then so do we.
I'm going to need a little bit more than that.
All right, fine, Gus and I will hit the scene.
And don't worry. It's going to be pro bono.
We're going to go all Haley Joel Osment on this, pay it forward.
Why can't we go all Haley Joel Osment
and get paid, like he did with Country Bears?
H.J.O. Was in Country Bears?
He played a bear named Beary Barrington.
My God. Is there anything this kid can't do?
Well, he's not really a kid anymore. He's in his twenties.
Technically, he's a young man, 23 or something.
So this is the address on the report.
Where do you want to start? You want to walk the scene?
Well, you are standing right where the bus ran over
Bob White's body. Why don't you just lay down?
I will not. Gus, you're the victim.
Why do I have to be the victim?
Because to cast you as the killer
wouldn't be very P.C.
Since when are you P.C., Shawn?
What, do you want to be out here all night
or do you want to go get some food?
Fine.
This says the street lamp
directly over the bus stop was out.
Gus, you still there?
You see my face on this asphalt, Shawn.
Hurry up. That's interesting.
So the lamp was vandalized. Probably teenagers.
Still says accident.
I don't know. They decided to bust one lamp and it just
happens to be the street lamp that prevents the bus driver
from seeing the drunkest guy in the world
laying in the street?
Gentlemen.
Might I ask why this man in straight cut denim
is lying in the street,
while you are making bus sounds in the moonlight?
If you must know we are
pantomime artists from New Guinea
developing a new routine.
Look, I'm trapped in this box on casters.
Luckily, this box also has an elevator.
Goodbye.
No. We are detectives.
And we're investigating a possible murder
that happened here two nights ago at 1:00 a.m.
Really? Right here on the street.
Unbelievable. I mean the one night that there's a murder
and I was sleeping.
I never sleep. Damn you, circadian rhythms.
You couldn't just go with the pantomime thing?
Gentlemen, my name is Whip Chatterly.
And I can tell you anything and everything
you need to know.
Well, with all due respect, Whip...
Cream, was it?
I happen to be the head psychic detective
for the SBDP and my partner here is black
so I believe our bases are covered.
What does that have to do with anything?
Oh, my. Oh, you're Shawn Spencer.
Oh, oh.
Hi. Oh!
You guys are like celebrities to me.
That's very flattering.
Actually we don't have any headshots on us right now,
but, uh... Ah, to heck with it.
Why don't you give Gus a big hug?
I would love to. How about you don't?
All right. Listen,
I would like to offer you up my prowess.
You see, I am a bit of a murder expert.
What?
Did you kill someone?
No.
But the next best thing.
This is my establishment.
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, we have a drunken man run over by a large vehicle
after he was already murdered.
This reminds me of a case from 1983 that I read about.
Wow. That sounds cool.
Dude, we already hung out
with enough crazy white people this year.
In this case, an Illinois farmer
had seemingly been run over by his own tractor,
but it was later discovered that the gear pedals
had been adjusted for a tiny person.
Turns out he was killed with cyanide by a dwarf
before he ever even got on that tractor.
They never caught that little fellow.
You saying the dwarf is still at large?
What I'm saying is that murder is always a macabre business
but one made to look like an accident, well,
that takes skill, knowledge, the most intricate planning.
Please turn around.
What? Rumps facing me.
Let me see your rumps.
What's that for?
I just got it, the at large joke. Hilarious.
Come, come.
Ooh, nice. You have surveillance cameras.
Yes, we have three inside, and here's the outside camera.
Wow, if someone decided to commit a murder
inside of that 3-foot radius, we are covered.
Okay, confession.
I just wanted to get you guys in here.
Why? To kill us?
Look, Whip, you're rambunctious and odd
and turtle-necky. We always do enjoy meeting a true fan
but it's time for Gus and I to run off into the night now.
Good night.
No. No, no. Wait. Wait, wait, wait, wait.
Would you at least bestow upon me
the honor of signing my Yang book.
Ah!
Am I the only one who thought that Mary Lightly was the killer?
Wow. You really read this closely.
Oh, I've read it 100 times. In fact, I have read
every book published on murder since 1850 to be precise.
Why are you so fascinated with murder?
I don't know. With one terrible act,
someone can become immortalized forever.
I just find it fascinating. Now, precedent tells us that
the victim's innards will tell the story of his death.
Its contents are like a clock.
Work backwards from the time of death, but you must hurry.
We know the drill, Whip, uh, we've seen The First 48.
And so have I. Every episode.
Okay, well watching it on TV and even, even reading
about it in books is a little different than...
- Two different things. - The real thing.
Gentlemen, allow me to be your secret weapon.
What have you got to lose? Huh?
I will also cover the cost of all snacks.
What kind of snacks? Keeping in mind that fruit
and dried fruit are not snacks.
Food for thought. Let's bring it in.
No?
Mr. Spencer has concluded as well that
Bob White may have been murdered.
I'm sorry, Woody.
This miscue has cost us the 40 hours of lead time
in solving this case.
I am willing to do whatever it takes to solve this.
I will stay here until 6:15 p.m. If need be.
Now if you'll excuse me, I will recheck for signs
of head trauma.
Ah, since time is of the essence, wouldn't it be wise
to start with the stomach? It would give us an indication of
where the victim has eaten in the last 18 hours.
By the way I am sensing that, uh,
the stomach is probably the right place to start.
All right, look, Chief, I admit I am thrown
by the idea that my mistake may have set us behind
the eight ball here, but if there is a murder to be solved
no one is better than me. No one!
Well, maybe Gary Sinise.
- Maybe Sinise. - Ms. Larson,
are you a licensed examiner in this state?
Well, I keep my credentials up, but...
I am exercising my discretion in the county to hire
you on to consult on this case.
Well, that is just insanely ridiculous. Rim shot?
Okay, look, Dr. Strode is right. I didn't know
it was his case when I called in. I don't want
to step on anyone's toes here.
I mean, obviously the case is sensitive.
Well, she hasn't even practiced since she left school.
I mean let's face it, a mortician's nothing more
than a glorified makeup artist.
Well, a makeup artist who knew to start
with the abdominal cavity.
You looked better with long hair.
You look like a great big Gerber baby.
You move your lips when you read.
Is that a bald cap on your head?
Because you know what, it reminds me of one that I saw
in a really bad high school production of The King and I
which I've never forgotten.
By the way, I lied. My father was never king of Sweden.
Ha! Ha! Ha!
Oh, oh, okay. Oh, oh...
Pathologist fight! Go, go, go!
Enough! Woody, I'm trying to help you here.
Because if this case turns into an unsolved murder,
and it's looking more likely by the minute that it will be,
you may be out of a job.
Thank you.
Okay, Woody, let's be mature about this.
Let's not rehash old times and play power games.
Let's slice open this man's stomach
and solve a murder.
What are these? Waffle chunks?
Seriously, do we really have to be here for this?
There is lemongrass and bean paste
but I also see greens.
Collard maybe?
And what appears to be potato
and sugar content.
Sweet potato pie?
Where would someone have gone to have eaten both soul food
and Thai?
Afro-Thai.
Phat Thai Jones.
I can't believe you called Whip.
Well, believe it, Gus, because here he is.
His vast knowledge of murder and true crime may just come in handy.
Until he kills us.
This is invigorating.
I feel tingly. I mean, it might just be my shampoo, you know.
It's got tea tree oil in it.
Now, how do these psychic inquisitions work?
Will we be touching our subjects?
May I help you? Yes.
Did you see this man here two nights ago?
- Hey, Singh! - Come on.
This guy might be more helpful.
I understand you have picture?
Whoa, whoa!
Keep it down, man.
Think that accent's a little offensive?
My accent? Offensive? Yes.
Your accent offensive. This is how I talk.
I'm his son.
Oh.
You're, uh...
Adopted, yes, okay, Bud from Cosby?
I grew up in Bangkok. We came here three years ago.
Still have a little bit of a twang.
Yes, yes, Bob White. Yes, of course I know him.
He's a regular. He was here two nights ago.
He sit right over there.
Do you know what time he was here?
6:00.
Gentlemen, we are standing in the presence of where
Bob White was approximately seven hours before his death.
Was he here with someone?
Table for one. He lonely. He have no honey.
Was he drinking a lot?
Drinking? No. No. He allergic to alcohol.
Allergic? Are you sure about that, Singh?
Autopsy report said his blood alcohol level was 0.31.
No, I offer him plum wine but he say, "no."
I give him plum cake instead.
Plum cake is made with alcohol. Teeny bit, yes, you know.
But he insists, you know, because our plum cake,
it tastes like you have picked a plum straight from a tree
and you stick it in a cake.
Holy... Really?
You thinking what I'm thinking?
You want plum cake? You know that's right.
Could you make that happen?
Can we have two pieces of plum cake please? Three.
He was allergic to alcohol. Wow, I didn't realize plum cake
had that much alcohol in it. Well that explains the dilation
of the blood vessels.
Well, either way, you don't get 0.31 saturation
from plum cake.
Someone with such an allergy would never be able to ingest
that amount of alcohol.
Is it at all possible the alcohol could have been
inserted into the bloodstream somehow?
Two things.
That is the sexiest thing I have ever heard in this office
and it is possible with a syringe.
We should start scanning the body for injection marks
and it could take a while.
No, he's pretty much the same old Bob White, you know.
He left half a warm Coke, oh, and also these.
But I keep for myself. Carnival tickets?
The site of grisly murders. Carn-Evil by Stewart Robson,
Middleton Press, 1971.
Gentlemen, these are not carnival tickets,
but it is going to be a hell of a ride.
That's weird. All right, got it. That was Woody.
Grace found an injection site in Bob's left foot,
so apparently the alcohol was pumped directly
into his bloodstream.
Ooh! Was the injection site between the second and third toe?
Yeah, it was. How did you know that?
Oh! Straight out of Lost In The Parade.
Tyne Hannerman, Soji Press, 1931.
The point is, somebody handpicked this guy.
It was controlled, calculated, cold-blooded.
We've arrived at Bob's next destination.
Hi, hi.
Where the hell are we?
When the hell are we?
Gentlemen, we are standing in a retro dime-a-dance hall.
One of the last of its kind. Here, regular fellows
can dress up like servicemen on leave from the 1930s,
and offer up a coupon to trip the light fantastic with
one of these alluring and voluptuous women.
And how do you know about this place?
Because I am a lonely individual.
And so was Bob White.
Now, look at this. Any one of these
creatures could have authored his demise.
We're going to need reinforcements.
Who? Who are you thinking of going with?
You said you had a priority one case
that involved my skills.
Yes, your dancing skills.
Who are you? I'm Whip Chatterly.
Look, Dad, we only have a couple of hours to question
all these voluptuous women. We need your help.
Woody's about to get fired.
I don't know, Shawn.
Count me in.
Does the name Bob White mean anything to you?
Can't say that it does. Can I call you Captain Magic?
Yeah.
Does this man's image incite anything in you?
I'm sorry, honey. I don't do three-ways.
I was wondering...
Shh!
Don't waste your breath, brown sugar.
You just let Sandy hold you tight
and all the pain will melt away like butter.
Actually, I'm doing great.
But my friend Bob White,
so sad.
Did you know him?
What?
Oh, I'm the A-hole?
Shawn! Shawn!
I just can't believe anybody
would want to kill that poor little man.
Really? Why is that so hard to believe?
Because Bobby wouldn't hurt a fly.
He used to come in here and dance with me for hours
because he just lost his mama.
He'd lay his head right here.
And I'd just let him fall asleep.
That sounds real nice.
Um. Shawn? Hang in there, buddy.
Sandy, did Bob come here to dance and nap on your bosom
two nights ago?
He did. It was the worst I've ever seen him.
He seemed paranoid and he kept going on and on
about somebody following him.
Being followed. Oh! This reminds me of a case that occurred
in Salt Lake City in 1992. Oh, it was a stormy winter...
Spit it out, Whip. I think Gus is losing consciousness.
I'm seeing double. I think our killer
was scouting Bob. I mean he was a lonely guy,
you know, kept a regular routine. Who would miss him?
Sandy, where would Bob go when he was finished
with the pleasure of your company?
The other night, he seemed so down.
So I sent him to a friend of mine.
I asked her for a special favor.
You sent him to a brothel?
What? No! My girl operates on a more spiritual level.
Gentlemen, we stand four hours from Bob White's last breath.
Huh. This is all you, Shawny boy.
You suck it, Gus.
We'll see. We'll see.
Miss Ivana, our friend Shawn here is a psychic, too.
Maybe you want to test him out
before you answer our questions.
- Dude, what are you doing? - Shh! No talk.
You! Look at my brain.
I'd rather not. Do it.
Okay. What do you see?
Um.
Ooh. You are putting up a wall.
You don't want me to see your naked, innermost thoughts.
True. I have trust issues. My therapist tells me this.
Your turn.
Have at it. I'm an open book.
You were thinking whether Ted Knight and Jim J. Bullock
had anything to talk about
on the set of
Too Close For Comfort.
Holy crap, she's the real deal.
Wow. Your turn again, Shawn.
This time try to let your guard down.
Gus, we are here to investigate.
I believe you know this man.
Golly. How many potted plants does it take to spell loser?
If it turns out this was a suicide, I can't say I blame the guy.
Ugh. Don't be ugly, Carlton.
What?
All right, what do you want to check?
The empty answering machine
or the letters addressed to resident?
Yes, he came to see me the other night.
He was very sad.
He tells me he's in love with beautiful woman.
Really? What's her name?
Penny. He said she is so beautiful
he can watch her all day long
pouring the tea or reading the paper.
Even the way she folding the laundry
is a thing of beauty.
So I tell him she cares for him.
Oh! What do you know? She was into old Bob, huh?
No.
I only told him this because big Sandy asked me to.
I owe her a favor for introducing me
to Chad Lowe at pajama party at the Playboy mansion.
You lied to him? I had to.
Chad wasn't going to get with a fortune teller.
I'm not talking about Chad, I am talking about Bob.
Yes. Him too.
Aw!
But he was so happy.
He rush out of here to go and see her.
This is an outrage!
Shame your face! Poor Bob!
Who is now very, very sad. You want to know why?
Mostly because he's dead!
Say what? Murder!
Nuh-uh! I hope you're satisfied.
Oh, my God, you guys, seriously?
This is all my fault.
I'm going to go to hell in a handbasket.
Uh. What happened to your accent?
People are more comfortable when I use it.
No. No. No. No, no, no, no. We are leaving.
To find a girl named Penny.
Damn, girl, what's wrong with you?
I see death in you.
Me? No.
The reaper is coming to collect your soul.
No, no, wrong again. Um, oh,
see, yes, I get this all the time.
You know, actually it's because
death is my business.
Isuse Boze.
Don't.
Ah. Ooh.
I know what it is, uh, I've got a dead tooth
and a toenail that's gone completely black.
Leave, now! All of you get out! Shoo!
Okay. Shoo!
Don't got to tell me twice.
Bad juju! Bad juju! Bad juju!
Well, that was unsavory.
Don't sweat it, Whip, okay? She was a freak. Trust me.
Full of bologna.
Yeah, that shorty was whack.
Gentlemen, I appreciate you both working overtime
to put me at ease, but I think maybe it's time
I leave the residue of this deadly cryptogram
to those far more equipped to decode it than I.
What I'm trying to say is that I'm freaked out.
I guess that the least we can do is, uh,
we'll give you a ride home. Ah! What?
Much appreciated. Um...
Would it be out of line to make a quick stop
at Arby's on the way home?
No, it would not. That's happening for sure. Okay.
I'll be damned.
Hey, hey, I got something!
Penny? Yeah.
Looks like Mr. Lonely wasn't so lonely after all.
Let's pay her a visit and make this little piggy squeal.
Or we could just ask her some questions.
We could, but it's never as much fun.
Hey, Shawn.
Jules, I'm having a very strong feeling about our guy Bob and the name Penny.
Does that mean anything to you?
Yeah, it does.
I got to tell you, Lassie,
investigating this neighborhood has been pretty bizarre.
Underbelly.
Kind of like After Hours.
Without the comforting presence of Griffin Dunne.
Please, Spencer, if anyone knows the underbelly of Santa Barbara, it's me.
So I'll do the talking, all right? I know these people.
And I'm a highly trained communicator, able to adapt into any situation.
I'm a master chameleon.
You're not a master chameleon.
Watch this.
It's open!
Hey, Chalmers?
Of course. Who else would I be, silly?
I am not silly. In fact, I'm quite the opposite.
Head Detective Carlton Lassiter, of the SBPD
I'm here to talk to you about Bob White.
Oh, yeah.
Well, come on in. I'm just about to make some tea.
Oh, yeah, this girl's got underbelly written all over her.
Detectives, please, have a seat. Make yourselves at home.
Wake up, Sebastian. This could get interesting.
Break a leg, Master C.
What the hell is going on?
He said she's so beautiful that he can watch her all day.
The way she pours the tea or reads the paper.
Oh! She's a performance artist.
Guys like Bob White pay money to watch her live her everyday life.
You serious?
All right, beatniks, show's over. Hit the road.
Are you people dense?
This is official police business. Get out of here!
Whoo-hoo!
Spencer, you going to help me out here?
Yes, we are.
The female cop's got a presence
but, uh, Detective Gangly is a bit stiff, don't you think?
Hey, Officer, no need to be nervous.
It's going to be okay. This is just life imitating art.
Now, no lines, just life. So go ahead, ask me anything you want.
Uh, look!
Miss, I, um...
We can't hear you!
Uh...
Do you know Bob White?
Yeah, why? We know him.
Well, I don't really know if you want an audience for this, but
Bob is dead.
My sweet Bobby is dead?
We believe he was murdered.
Oh, Bobby! No!
Kind of cliché.
Well, someone may have been stalking him for a while, if that helps.
Oh, yeah, that does.
Oh, Bobby, no...
All right, that is it!
You either get these people out of here, or I'm going to haul you downtown.
We're going to set up all the chairs in the holding cell.
How's that for honesty and truth?
Does that cost extra?
Get them out of here.
Let's go! Come on!
Bye. Thanks, thanks for coming.
Did you complete the residue test on those fingernails like a good boy?
I did. I found a mixture of pigment fillers in the nail beds.
Is there anything hotter than a man scaling another man's dead cuticles?
Nope.
And by the way,
I realize I'm actually acutely turned on by taking orders from a woman.
If this continues, I might have to change my Facebook relationship status
to "it's complicated."
Are you trying to seduce me?
Maybe.
Is it working? It's not not working.
How's Elaine?
We're separated.
She cheated on me 12 times with 10 men.
Not a very smart woman.
That's why I married her.
You know, I do not appreciate being made a part of your little dog and pony show.
Oh, I don't work with animals.
You think I'm kidding around?
I could take you downtown for obstruction of justice.
Easy, okay? I'm a performance artist.
I just thought I'd take the opportunity to milk the drama
when a bunch of detectives showed up.
That is an odd way to make a living.
It's way less creepy than doing web cam feeds.
And it sure beats the hell out of my last gig.
Doing spots for Howza Meats.
Wait a second.
You're the bologna girl?
I knew I recognized you. I just couldn't remember where.
Howza, Howza, Howza meats
You tell me Bah, bah, bah, bologna!
Are you quite done, Guster?
Bah, bah, bah, bologna!
She does it twice.
In the commercial.
I do it twice.
I'm done.
What can you tell us about Bob White?
He would come to the show almost every day but we never spoke.
Two nights ago, he came in, it was really late.
I told him the show was over for the night.
And he insisted on coming in.
And then he professed his love for me.
He said that a fortune teller told him I loved him too.
He had no honey.
That is not offensive. That is exactly how the white waiter sounded. Gus was there.
Please tell me you let him down easy. I'm sensing he was very vulnerable.
No, I threatened to call the cops.
But you're the bologna girl.
Yeah, but I'm also a single girl in the city.
Who invites an entire audience of strangers into her apartment.
Any idea where he went after you ripped his heart out and stepped on it?
I watched him from the window. He walked down the street.
And then this black Impala pulled up.
And then he was talking to the driver and then he got in.
Great. It's only the most popular car in America.
What time did all of this go down?
Midnight.
Well, he died around 1:00.
Which means whoever picked him up in that car is probably the last person who saw him alive.
Mostly likely because they're also
the person who killed him.
Bah, bah, bah, bah, bologna!
Hello, boys.
Ah!
I had to go to three stores to find crème fraîche for our strawberries.
Well, I think we squeezed all we can out of these intestines.
Mmm!
Worth the wait. That is fresh fraîche.
We are quite the team, Grace and I.
As it turns out, we also still enjoy
both Jerry Garcia and Cherry Garcia.
Guys, uh, here's what we know.
Someone drove him away in what may have been an Impala?
Impala. Okay. And that's where the trail runs cold.
What you're doing is positively disgusting.
Why are you still messing with that?
Because it feels amazing.
Oh, uh.
I don't know what this will mean to you but I found a mixture
of calcium carbonate, titanium oxide and pigment fillers in the nail beds.
Hmm. Those are the common elements of acrylic stains.
Paint?
I was just about to say that. No, you weren't.
Right, Guster. In addition, there was a string of muriatic acid.
That's a preserving agent. We're probably talking about an outdoor location.
You thinking what I'm thinking?
You want more plum cake? I do, but no.
You preserve a mural.
I watched him from the window. He was walking down the street.
And then this black Impala pulls up.
And he's talking to the driver and then he got in.
Okey doke.
The killer drove Bob to this alley from Penny's, made him get out,
turns him around, boom, bludgeons him over the head. So, do it. Bludgeon me.
What? Bludgeon me.
Why me, Shawn?
All you do is complain about being the victim.
Now I'm offering you the role of the killer,
just like Blair Underwood in Just Cause, and you're gonna pass?
I don't want to bludgeon you. Just do it.
I don't want to bludgeon you. Bludgeon me! Bludgeon me! Bludgeon me!
Fine.
Holy crap!
Whip's our killer. What?
Look! He absolutely needed us to solve this murder.
He wanted to get caught.
With one terrible act, someone can be immortalized forever.
I think it's fascinating.
Exactly. He wants to go down in history just like all the killers that he studies.
And if this goes unsolved, then no one is going to write about it. Oh!
I bet he severed the earlobe just to launch the investigation.
That's why he wanted to tag along, to make sure we figured out all the clues.
Of course. This thing is so twisted, it could only come from a book.
I'm calling Lassie. I'll have him meet us at Whip's.
The black Impala. Chatterly, get out of the car!
We've got a body.
We got something else too.
"Thank you, Shawn and Gus, for being the sleuths I always knew you were.
"And for helping me find my rightful place in the annals of murder history.
"File this under 'C' for Chatterly."
Geez, Whip.
I knew it.
You did not.
I kinda did.
Damn you, Whip Chatterly!
You ensnared us in a web of turtleneck lies.
And now because of you, we don't have any snacks.
You just can't tell what a person is capable of until you've seen them naked.
Hmm.
I'm almost positive that's how the saying goes.
Mmm... Cakesters?
You betcha. Ooh.
Yep, I have learned my lesson.
If it wasn't for you guys, I'd be out of a job.
Well. From now on,
I'm not half-assing any autopsies.
Unless the corpse has half an ass.
You got to keep it light, guys. Sure do.
I think we're going to roll, Woodster.
I've got back to back episodes of Hot in Cleveland on TiVo and we're pretty spent.
Yeah.
Whoa, Gus.
I have a missed call from Whip. What?
Yeah, like an hour before we found his body. He left a message.
Creepiest butt dial ever.
Wait a minute, I gotta hear that again.
What is wrong with you, Shawn? The man is committing sui...
Shh! Listen.
All right, what does that sound like to you? I don't know.
Yes, you do. That is a car door slamming after the gunshot.
We got to get back to Whip's bookstore.
What are we doing here, Shawn?
Looking for signs of a struggle.
Oh, my gosh.
I don't want to be here for one more second than we have to be.
This doesn't add up, Gus, and you know it.
We're going to figure out why.
What? Come on, son!
You going to drink a dead man's Yoo-Hoo?
You had to put that image in my head, didn't you?
The man may be dead but that Yoo-Hoo is very much alive, Shawn.
I'm going inside. Suck it. Suck that.
Gus, you're not going to die for letting a Yoo-Hoo go to waste.
Whip did. This investigation is not over and you know it.
Shawn, I don't want to be here.
I feel like I'm in one of those movies where a little Japanese kid in death makeup
is going to be up on the ceiling like a frog if I look up.
So, don't look up.
Besides, why would you possibly feel that way? I don't know.
And what are you doing up there? You're closer to the ceiling?
I don't know, Shawn. Maybe because I'm starving to death.
I gave you my Cakester!
That was almost half an hour ago.
Come on, son.
Wait for it.
Dude.
What do we have here?
Why is Whip watching old surveillance footage?
So, we have five tapes.
And on each one of them, the same weirdo's reading one of these five books.
In this case, an Illinois farmer had seemingly been run over by his own tractor.
But later, it was discovered he was killed with cyanide by a dwarf
before he ever even got on that tractor. They never caught that little fellow.
Dude, what are you doing?
Oh!
You scared me.
Are those homemade biscotti? Is there any other kind?
You look happy.
Well, I guess I am.
Do you still take sugar with your joe?
Mmm.
Hey, what is all that? You don't want to know.
Let's pretend we're doing an episode of Red Shoe Diaries.
Well, not if there's work to be done.
Fine. The contents of Whip Chatterly's esophagus.
Well, I thought the case was closed.
It is.
It was. Or that's what I thought.
But now I'm not so sure.
These were folded up into tiny bits and put inside this metal capsule.
This is new evidence and it could be a game changer.
I think we may have to pull another all-nighter.
God, I love this job.
You know, I do too.
Okay, clearly there's a reason why these pages are torn.
Dude, I think Whip was framed. Why?
Because he was the perfect mark.
A weirdo obsessed with death and strange murders throughout history.
I mean, we didn't question it for a second when we heard his suicide confession.
Think about it. So, it was creepy Sherlock.
Well, this makes sense.
I mean, he obviously did all of his research right here, in Whip's store.
Probably even had a conversation with him.
That's sick.
The one night that there's a murder and I was sleeping. Unbelievable. I never sleep.
Ah!
He must have drugged Whip's coffee.
That's why he fell asleep the night Bob White was murdered.
He took Whip's car, he took Whip's stamp.
And he put it all back before he ever knew what hit him.
Oh man, now I feel bad. Poor Whip.
You know, he was a funny guy.
And I've thought about rocking the turtleneck.
But then I think about what you would say and then, what people at work would say.
Whip never worried about stuff like that. He was fearless.
Gus. What?
This is really, really not good.
Well, we can send these to the lab in the morning, I'll dust them for prints.
Oh! That's odd.
I thought they were going home to watch Hot in Cleveland.
He must have come up with something, as well. I should fill him in.
Um.
I'm afraid that's not going to be possible.
Well, it's such an easy task, even I can't screw it up. Have some faith, banana.
Grace, what are you doing?
That's evidence.
You just had to go and ruin everything, didn't you, Woody?
I mean, the case was closed.
All the evidence pointed to this dummy doing it. I mean, he even confessed.
All you had to do was cover him up, eat some cookies and then take me to bed.
We can still go two for three.
Let's go.
Grace, it's Woody.
Don't you owe me an explanation?
You want an explanation? Yes.
Okay.
Whip Chatterly set me up by swallowing that little capsule.
He was smarter than I gave him credit for.
Crafty, like a little fox.
I mean, whose fingerprints do you think the lab is going to find
on those stupid little pieces of paper? Huh?
For 25 years, I had been putting makeup on corpses,
dreaming of the day that I would get the call
when somebody would tell me that I was as good
as Woody Strode.
Teacher's pet, brilliant, but misunderstood.
A dream worth killing for? Come on.
I have applied for every opening
in crime pathology this side of the Gulf of Mexico,
with no success.
And then, I met Bob White.
And I realized that he was the perfect mark.
I mean, you know, it was really kind of a mercy killing.
But when I got the idea of pinning the murder on Whip Chatterly,
it was epic.
I broke open the case, and then I solved it.
I beat you, Woody.
I owned you.
You sliced the earlobe after my autopsy, didn't you?
Yes, muttonhead, I did.
And you know what?
You and the police had ruled it an accident.
But I needed it to be an investigation.
You know, you may not realize this, Grace, but you're insane.
Well, I'm a woman,
and I can mask it. Let's go.
You are totally going to pull this off, aren't you?
No, I'm not ready to die.
I still haven't seen Gloria Estefan in concert yet.
Please! Please, Grace. I will get down on my knees.
And I will beg like a Saint Bernard!
No!
That won't be necessary.
Put it down, Grace.
Oh, thank God!
Well, that was quite the all-nighter, Woodrow.
You're very lucky that O'Hara was still here doing paperwork when Shawn called.
Chief, uh, I just want you to know that, uh...
Hey, I only cried because I was tired.
That's reassuring.
Your status as chief coroner has been fully restored.
Yes!
That said, I expect your work to be nothing short of exemplary, moving forward.
Is that clear?
It is. And I cannot thank you enough for believing in me.
I didn't.
I believed in your colleague who turned out to be a homicidal maniac.
None of us is perfect, Chief.
Thanks for looking out for me.
I love you guys. I mean that.
You know, it's just as easy for me to love a man as it is a woman.
We're all just meltable flesh and breakable bones.
Wow, this feels good!
Chief, are you currently seeing anyone? Excuse me?
Woody! Don't be coy with me.
I don't need to play first fiddle in this bluegrass band.
Teach me the notes.
I am married with a child and this is wildly inappropriate.
Stop it. Of course.
I apologize.
I am just so overjoyed at getting my mojo back.
I guess it'll just be in my dreams that you are the chief of doing me.
What? Good job, Chief!
Oh, is that...
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