Original subtitles

Oh, man. God!

You really caught me flush with that mic stand, Billy.

Oh, it's a flesh wound, mate.

Here, let me get a good look at it.

Is it terrible?

Uh, no, you can barely see it.

It's borderline nonexistent. All right.

It feels like the blood is streaming

out of the back of my head, Billy.

No, it'll heal.

Billy Lipps!

That show was the rockin' nuts!

Especially when you sang Rockin' Nuts as an encore.

Yeah! Who are you two?

Who are we? You don't remember?

Billy, it's me, Shawn Spencer, man.

This is my partner, Domo Arigato... Ah.

Mr. Roboto.

Oh, yeah, I sort of remember the black kid.

Billy! Billy! Billy Lipps!

Oh, man!

I've been a fan of yours since the Dapshats.

All right. Brewski.

Cheers. Wait a minute. Dad?

Shawn? Gus? What are you doing here?

What are you doing here?

I was never here. Oh wait.

Are you guys real or are you hallucinations?

No, no, no. Billy, Billy.

Shawn Spencer.

The psychic detective.

I'm working with the SBPD

on this little cold-case investigation of Melinda Lane.

You know, that groupie that mysteriously died at your mansion.

Shh, shh. No...

Wait a minute. You're here on a case?

Yes, as a matter of fact, we are.

It's, like, our third one. Boom.

We're trying to impress Chief Dick.

Chief Vick.

Vick? Yes.

Yeah, uh, look, why are you bringing up

this whole Melinda Lane business?

Because, Lipps...

There are some very interesting tidbits

in your recently released biography

that shed some damning new light

on the Melinda Lane murder investigation.

Huh, that's my book.

You remember Melinda, don't you, Billy?

Sorry, Billy. I'm the one that tipped them off.

But don't worry, I told them that you could explain away

any tidbits they may have.

Ha. For example, and I quote,

"I woke up in my bed that fateful night

"and couldn't help but smell Melinda's perfume

"that she always wore all over me."

Don't ever do that again. Sorry.

Now, Billy, in our previous interviews,

you stated that you and Melinda didn't speak the night she was murdered

because of a falling out.

Now, if that were the case,

why was her scent all over your clothes?

Don't answer that yet.

Chapter four,

"I had scratches on my chest,

"but the dense, meerkat-like fur that covers my torso

"made them invisible to the naked eye."

Who gave you those scratches, Billy?

Was it Melinda Lane, as you smothered her face

with a pillow and murdered her?

Go ahead, Billy.

Read him the riot act, man. Tell him how wrong he is.

Rockin' nuts

What do you say we continue this little chat

down at the station, huh?

W-W-Whoa, whoa. Just wait one second,

okay, Detective Lassiter?

Gus. Yeah.

Oh, yeah. What?

Rockin' nuts

I'm just not sure I follow you, Jules.

Shawn, we've eaten at Thank The Lard

three times this week.

Plus, it's Saturday night.

You know what? You're right.

I'm taking you to Fuddruckers.

You're invited, lucky you

To a party, whoop-de-do

There'll be wine and cocktails too

Who's your host? I wish I knew

You're invited

Don't be a D-bag and be late

You have a plus-one

"Bella Rosa Mansion.

"Tonight. 7:00 p.m.

"RSVP now. No cameras."

Shawn, I have wanted to go to the Bella Rosa Mansion

since I moved to Santa Barbara.

It's a stunning landmark.

I bet they have those things in the bathroom

that hose off your bum.

Shawn Spencer and Juliet O'Hara are in.

Wait, is it weird that we don't know

who invited us or why we were invited?

Jules, I think it's mysterious by design.

It may be one of those Eyes Wide Shut shindigs with the masks

or a Boogie Nights shindig with lots of cocaine.

Either way, I am talking about exposed boobies.

You know what? I don't care.

I'm gonna wear my one-of-a-kind vintage Oscar de la Renta dress!

Wait a minute.

That guy boxes and designs dresses?

That's just plain impressive.

Hey, Carlton. Really?

What? And you're sure that you need me?

No, you don't. Okay.

We got some news on a missing-persons case.

It doesn't look like I'm gonna make it.

That sucks. But don't invite anybody else.

Okay? There's still an outside chance I might make it later.

Are you kidding? I wouldn't dream of it.

Okay.

Careful out there.

Hi, Gus. Hey, Jules.

Dude, I have an extra ticket to a mysterious party

at a sweet mansion tonight, you're my first choice.

What? I am so in.

It's a secret party

It's a secret party

Private party It's a secret party

Let's go see some boobs

Are you kidding me?

What is your major malfunction?

I stepped in scat, man!

Scatman Crothers? No, Panther scat.

Gus, don't be the second time ever I saw your face.

I know my scat, Shawn.

What's up? Well, good evening, kind sir.

You're a half hour early.

We got stuck in traffic.

I'm Shawn Spencer, and this is my plus-one.

Juliet O'Hara?

You invited Juliet before me?

It's true. I invited her first.

But I brought you. You know what I'm saying?

Not really. Let's party.

Enter, gentlemen.

Licorice pastels, 12:00. That's amazing.

Give me your phones.

What? Why do you need our phones?

Because your host doesn't need you shooting photos of him

and putting them on the inter web.

I'll buy that.

I got it. I got it. Here you go.

So, uh, sir, we still haven't gotten your name.

Clizby.

Clizby?

With a "Th" sound?

Clizby.

Okay.

So, uh, Clizby.

Who might our host be?

I'll tell you what, Clizby,

I've got an Abe Lincoln with your name on it

if you give us a tour of this joint, you feel me?

That means you get to keep the $5.

I was hoping to get two back, actually.

So, Clizby...

How long have you worked for Denzel Washington?

Uh, what he meant to say was,

how long have you worked for Wendy's founder Dave Thomas?

He's dead, Shawn.

Is he really? Yes.

I'm so sorry for your loss, sir.

I've been working for my boss for 25 years.

Wow. Muhammad Ali must really value you as an employee.

So, Clizby,

is there an itinerary for the evening?

There will be a six-course meal,

followed by live entertainment.

I see.

Cliz, who is this guy?

It's all right, buddy.

It's, it's okay.

I'm sorry, my partner has an intense fear of toupees,

tied to his grandfather.

He used to whup me. For his fear of toupees.

It was a vicious cycle.

This is the original owner of the house,

Bucky Sharavino.

He was a chocolatier.

My boss rented this mansion from Bucky's estate.

Legend has it that Bucky built his own secret chocolate room.

Does legend say where this room is exactly?

Rumor has it it's somewhere near the living room.

Excuse me. Of course.

Let's all do the chocolate dance

Chocolate dance

Let's all do the chocolate dance

It's an entire...

Let's all do the chocolate dance

Chocolate dance, chocolate dance, yeah!

Let's all do the chocolate dance

Chocolate! It's an entire room

And please leave a message.

Hey, Shawn, it's me.

Look, we found that missing person's vehicle

and we're processing it for evidence,

but I am still hoping that I can make it to the party.

Just makes me so sad to think of you there all by yourself.

They found blood in the car.

You're not making it to that party.

Oh, good evening. Oh, hello.

I'm Leslie.

I'm Gus. This is Shawn.

I was wondering, perhaps, do you two know

who's ho-ho-ho-hos...

Hosting?

We thought you might know.

No, but I hope to get to stick around long enough to find out.

Another party to attend?

Ha, I wish.

Excuse me.

I have to get home to my son, Germaine.

I'm sure his father can watch him

while you enjoy a night out.

What father?

He's never met his father!

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm a single mom,

and this is a s-s-s,

it's a s-s-sensitive subject.

Oh. Sure, I can imagine, yeah.

Harry's here.

Uh, don't get up.

You!

You were our bumber-one Snoopy back in the gay.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Spencer. Guster.

Do you have any idea who's hosting this thing?

I'm Magellan, I'm Magellan.

He's Magellan. Your mama's Magellan.

Shawn? What?

Good evening. I'm Martin Kahn,

Harvard, class of '86.

1986? Burton Guster.

Pomona College, class of '98.

"Pomona College."

Shawn Spencer. School of street smarts and winged serpentry.

So, Martin, do you know who's hosting this evening?

Of course, but I'm not one to ruin a surprise, now, am I?

How should we know? We've only just met.

My bad.

Some very interesting tidbits

in your recently released biography.

Got it.

You are Martin Kahn,

the biographer who wrote Rock Bottom,

which makes you Highway Harry,

longtime manager of Billy Lipps

and the guys behind me,

which also means that he didn't call you a "Gay Snoopy."

He was saying you were their number-one groupie back in the day.

Great for that.

Which means our host can only be,

Hello, everybody.

Billy Lipps.

Good to see you. Thanks for coming.

As you all know,

I've been in prison for the last five years,

serving my sentence for the manslaughter

of Melinda Lane.

Uh, Shawn, this is awkward.

Learned a lot of lessons in the clink,

like perseverance, redemption,

and when your androgynous bunk mate "Appetite"

says he's gonna shiv you for not sharing your cherry jubilee,

it's not an idle threat.

That spindly mongrel pierced by bloody liver while singing Sarah Mclachlan.

His pitch was all over the place.

But that's not important.

Might I inquire who the empty seat is for?

My guess is Rip, but he'll never show.

He hates Highway Harry with a passion

because he shafted him on song royalties.

No.

I'm in Mensa.

But what is important is that I discovered

the power of faith.

I found God.

Jesus.

And I asked them to strike down Appetite

with a holy vengeance!

But they didn't, so now I'm Jewish.

Full on. Wear the hat and everything.

Pure rubbish. Legit.

Seriously, Harry. I'm Jewish.

You can't tell those jokes anymore.

Barbra Streisand. No, I'm serious.

Steven Spielberg. Stop it.

Benihana. Stop!

Bojangles! Stop it.

Ricardo Montalban.

Anyway, the reason that I brought you all here tonight

is to tell you that prison

was the best thing that ever happened to me.

I mean, sure, my gorgeous angel of a wife

fell in love with Derek Hough,

the blond bastard-face from Dancing with the Stars.

But it's all right. It's okay.

I'm clean now. I'm sober.

I'm writing songs again. I'm circumcised.

Doing pilates. Don't!

I just want to say thank you.

This is a celebration is what it is!

It's a celebration of new beginnings...

- And of life! - L'Chaim!

Harry?

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

Excuse me. I'm a registered nurse.

Sorry. I was a registered nurse.

I was ter-ter...

T-ter-ter... T-ter-ter...

Spit it out, woman.

Terminated.

I was fired.

Let go.

This man is dead.

I, for one, am not surprised.

I mean, the man had one functioning valve in his heart.

Martin's right.

I mean, Highway has flat-lined and died

at least 10 times before.

We literally had a funeral for him once and he sat up in the coffin.

He scared the piss out of me.

No really, I soiled me spandex.

This cat wore spandex to a funeral man.

I, too, am saddened by the passing of Highway Harry.

So, in his honor, I would like to volunteer to eat his meal.

We're splitting that food down the middle.

Too late, Shawn. I called it.

We split the food of the dead 50/50.

Man! That's always been the deal.

- Fine! - Listen up.

Tonight's mitzvah will now be in Highway's honor.

And a proper kevurah,

that means funeral,

will take place mañana once we perform the taharah.

Did he just do a mash-up of Yiddish and Spanish?

He sure did. It's like a matzo-dilla.

That sounds delicious.

Excuse me, Billy, but you're the one who's Jewish.

Yeah, that's right, mate. So why does Highway Harry

get a Jewish funeral?

Because I'm Jewish. But he's... not Jewish.

Wait a minute. You're here on a case?

It's, like, our third one. We're trying to impress Chief Dick.

Martin, are you questioning my faith?

Hava nagila!

Hava! I'm having a vision.

What the heck are you doing?

You better run, Rip!

I'm gonna shiv you just like that

androgynous boy shivved me!

Mick had Keith.

Axl had Slash.

Morrissey had Johnny.

And Billy has Rip.

Stop. Stop. Stop!

Martin, of course, was correct.

That empty seat was meant for Billy's loyal guitarist,

but here's the twist.

He's been here all night long, Lionel Richie style,

lurking, waiting for the opportunity

to get back at Highway Harry

for cheating him out of song royalties.

This man did not die of natural causes.

Say what?

He was hit in the back of the head during the blackout.

Oh, I... I see a contu...

A contu... A c-c-c-contu...

- Contusion. - Oh, yes.

Contusion.

Uh, Shawn, we need to call Lassie and Jules immediately.

Yes, that's a good idea.

The line is dead.

Probably the storm.

I experienced a similar one years ago,

when I was at Harvard.

Ooh! Ooh! These pork-belly bites of Clizby's

are like divine nuggets of God's heroin meat.

I asked him once to liquefy 'em

and load it into a syringe so I could mainline it.

I declined. BILLY: Yeah, he said no way.

He said you can't put pork into your veins like that.

Clizby!

We are going to need to access our cell phones

so that we can call the police.

They're gone.

Uh, Clizby, I'll take my main course

and my half of Highway Harry's meal to go.

Gus, where are you going?

Home to my girl and another man's child.

You can't do that, there's a Roland Emmerich

style storm raging out there!

I don't care! I'll take my chances.

Gus.

Aah! Shawn!

I told you there was a panther out there.

Panther, are you serious?

Billy, you really have a pet panther?

Yeah, I do, Emma.

Oh, she's a peach,

when she's resting or, like,

when she's not broken free of her chains.

But if she's out and about, she'll take your face off.

He's kidding. No, literally.

She took a friend of mine's face right off.

But we're not friends anymore. He's still upset about the whole thing.

I don't think he's actually upset with me.

I think he's upset with the doctors

for doing such a poor job of putting his face back on.

He's got one ear that's like...

Three degrees lower than the other.

He's not kidding. Told you.

Hell of a flautist, though. Had real balls, yeah.

Well, not anymore, I mean, his grill's barely functional.

Can't even whistle.

But he gives it a go, yeah, and people clap.

But it's just to be nice,

empty applause, really.

I'm, I'm having,

po-p-p-po, m-m-menopausal flashes.

Flames smoldering in and around my bosom.

I cannot stay. I must leave.

Wait! Leslie, cool your bosom.

We can't go out there. He's right.

Martin's right. There is a storm raging, Leslie,

and there is a hungry panther.

And your bosom is full, and there are six of us,

and there's only one Rip.

Shawn, are you saying what I think you're saying?

Absolutely.

Right.

What... No, no, Billy, Billy, Billy.

I'm saying we should all split up into pairs

and search the house for Rip.

Right.

Right.

Right?

This must be Clizby's room.

Tell you what.

When we find Rip, I'm gonna bite him back

for having bitten me with his little sewer-rat teeth.

Rip bit you?

Oh, that is so cool.

I mean, granted, I have no memory of this, right?

But apparently Rip and I got into this huge brawl

years ago over Melinda Lane.

He felt that she was toxic to the band

'cause she loved me but also fancied Harry.

Picked me, of course.

Been there.

Yeah, Gus once bit me for stealing his honey.

Ah, women.

Yeah, could barely blame him, though.

He had just gotten some graham crackers

and had nothing to dip them in.

I've been with my boss for 25 years.

Boring! Clear!

Copy.

Man, I knew they were going to stick

the two black dudes together.

This either ends with us dead or in jail.

Man, why do you have to buy

into all those black stereotypes?

Says the black butler.

Touché, my brother.

Uh, Clizby...

Were Billy and Martin working on another book?

More like fighting about another book.

In here all hours of the night,

yelling, throwing stuff.

I use it to caramelize.

I hear that.

Leslie...

I've been letting this Shawn Spencer run the show,

but are we to just assume he isn't the killer.

Yes.

So you think he's the killer.

No.

So you don't believe he's the killer.

I-I meant yes when I said no.

Give me a straight answer.

Do you believe Shawn is the killer or not? Yes or no?

Yes. Yes, you believe it's him?

Or yes, you don't believe it's him?

Great Scott!

Hey, Rip!

Come out, come out, wherever you are.

Do the right thing, mate. Own up to it.

Go to prison like I did. It's not as bad as you think.

That's a lie. It's where souls go to die. Really.

So this is where all the magic happens, huh?

Oh, yeah, yeah. This spot right here,

this is the reason why I rented this mansion,

It's perfect-ect-ect...

Acoustics-ics-ics...

Listen.

Higher.

Higher!

You're right. That sounds absolutely amazing.

I know, right?

This is some bulls...

Clizby, do the honors, will you?

Come on.

SBPD. Extinguish that torch.

Gus?

Shawn, you said you wouldn't bring anyone else.

No, sweetheart, I invited you first.

And then I brought Gus. You follow?

No. You will.

So what? You come to arrest me again, have you?

First off, you might want

to lower that paint gun, Alice Cooper.

Secondly, does the name Albert Semento

ring any bells in your dead head?

Uh, no.

Well, he's been missing for a few days,

and we just located his car not that far from here.

Spattered with blood.

And guess what address was on his GPS?

Do we all get one guess?

Or can... It's obvious...

It was this house.

Hi. Martin Kahn, Harvard.

Carlton Lassiter, shut up.

Well, I don't know any Albert Semento,

and there's no one here by that name, all right?

But there is someone here named Highway Harry, and he is dead.

Are you telling me there's a dead person in this house?

He was murdered by Rip, and, yes,

we already called dibs on his meal.

And where's Rip?

He is somewhere in this house,

kicking ass in a classic game of hide-and-seek.

Show us the body.

All right.

Harry's gone.

Great Scott! That's impossible.

No, it isn't.

Rip moved the body to get rid of any evidence.

What is that smell?

Oh. Gus stepped in some...

It's burning London broil. Excuse me.

All right, everybody. Listen up.

As of 2100 hours, we are officially

on a phase four lockdown.

Phase four?

What happened to the other three phases,

you cheap ba...

Oh, my God.

Rip.

Also known by his birth name, Albert Semento.

Do you mean to tell me

that none of you knew Rip's real name?

Well I mean I asked him a couple of times what his real name was

and both times he said "Rip

"Englandfarts." And I thought,

"Okay, you know, my mate's playing a joke on me,"

'cause when you say the whole name, right, it's basically...

Yeah, I got what it is. Okay.

Okay, we've got two stab wounds.

Looks to me like an ice pick.

And it's impossible to tell how long he's been dead.

Could be two days. Could be two hours.

All right, people, listen up.

This is officially a crime scene,

and I am now calling the shots.

And my finely honed investigative skills

are telling me that someone in this room

is responsible for the murders

of Al Semento and Highway Harry.

Now, I'm not sure if you're familiar

with the 1984 Chuck Norris classic, Missing in Action,

but my partner and I are about to grill

each and every one of you

like Colonel Braddock did the Vietcong.

- Yeah, I'm not doing that. - Fine.

But if anyone's going to be bound and denied oxygen,

might I suggest we establish some clear safe words?

Move it out, freak show.

No, that's too many words.

I was thinking more along the lines of "stop."

I'll be in the den.

That's not my job, man.

I need to know everything you did

from the time you arrived here tonight.

And if the girl who sold you that dress told you it was the only one.

Dammit!

Harvard. Well, Marty...

Let me tell you what happens

when you cry "Harvard" in prison.

A bunch of inmates go to the prison library

and check out a bunch of books

that you've probably read cover to cover,

and then they take turns beating you with them

until you forget you ever went to...

Care to guess?

Harvard.

You really are smart.

Just answer the question, Billy.

All right, but first, I have a question for you.

No, no, it's legit this query.

Would you ever consider quitting police work

and going on tour and sleeping with me

and my band and my crew?

Professionally.

All I know is I've got a frozen body M&M?

And your alibi doesn't hold water.

Now start talking.

This is a joke, right, Lassie?

Come on, man, you know I didn't kill those dudes.

Hold on. Why are you emphasizing the word "I"?

I don't know. Maybe because you disappeared for 10 minutes

after Clizby gave us a tour of the house.

Man, you know I doubled back around

to that bowl of licorice pastels.

And when I returned, guess who was suspiciously gone.

Man, you know, I, too, crave those licorice pastels.

And I doubled back after you doubled back.

Liar. I ate them all, sucker.

Liar! You ate all of them but the black ones.

I don't eat my own, Shawn.

You suck it. You suck it.

Suck it!

All right, what did you learn from Clizby?

It's Clizby.

Stop it! Clifby?

Clizby.

Hey! Not you, Guster.

So what have we gleaned from the grillings?

That any one of these guests could have committed the murders

and that they're all pointing fingers at each other.

Like this. Uncle!

And they all claim that a vast amount

of dirty laundry was aired during Billy Lipps' trial.

Apparently, they all had some pretty damning things to say about him.

Wait a minute. Everyone invited tonight

testified at Billy's trial.

That means we all played a role in sending Billy off to prison,

an experience he claims was a blessing,

but I believe deep down he's resentful and bitter

that his wife was stolen from him

by that beautiful bastard-face dancer Derek Hough, his words.

Though I, too, would have chosen the word "Derek."

Plus he was shivved by an androgynous desert thief.

Oh, my God.

Billy Lipps didn't invite us here tonight to celebrate.

He invited us here to exact revenge.

Highway Harry and Rip were his first victims.

But he is planning on taking us out one by one

by one by one by one by one by one.

So he's going to kill four more people?

No. He's going to kill five more people.

Two plus one plus one plus one plus one plus one is seven.

Let's talk to Lipps. Yeah.

Lipps split.

The other guests are in grave danger.

Everybody, listen up!

When I call your names, you answer.

Martin! MARTIN: Detective, I have rights!

Leslie! LESLIE: I'm fl, fl, flab...

Flabbergasted? Clizby?

Man, you know I'm in here. Guster.

Guster? Gus?

Gus?

Gus?

Oh, no. Billy must have taken him.

How in the hell did Lipps get out of the den,

into the living room, and abduct Gus without anyone seeing him?

This is all my fault. I left him.

And I brought him as my plus-one.

This should have been you, Jules.

Shawn.

Rumor has it that the secret chocolate room

is somewhere off the living room.

Gus?

All I know is I've got a frozen body

and your alibi doesn't hold water.

Now start talking!

Did you go looking for the chocolate room?

You deserved better, my magnificent friend.

Toupees.

Oh, no. Gus.

I... I... I thought,

I thought it was the chocolate room.

I know you did, buddy. Come on, let's,

let's get out of you here.

No, no. Come on.

You can do it.

I found Gus. He's all right.

He doesn't look all right.

I thought it was chocolate. I know.

I've written a new song!

How the hell did you all get out of your rooms?

I've written a song!

Yow, yeah!

'Cause I'm a genius in me own genes.

Gather round. Come on, people.

Oh, after-party will be in my pants.

It's a hit song that I have penned...

In memory of my mates,

Rip and Highway Harry.

Or they were murdered

and I don't believe that the soul rests

when it's struck down like that.

Pretty sure

it just floats around in the ether

and haunts people like...

Beetlejuice.

All right, enough of this nonsense.

You're under arrest, Lipps.

I was speaking English, right?

It's a long road, my brothers

And we travel it alone

Together we ride forever

Forever, to the other side

It's a long road

Wait a minute, so he's riding solo

to the other side or...

I think he starts off alone,

and then he joins his friends. I think.

They're waiting for him? I don't know.

It's unclear who he's with.

Together, alone, alone

Alone, alone, alone

Alone, alone, together

And together, alone, alone

Alone, alone, alone, alone

Billy, move! Don't move, Billy.

Together alone

That is quite a mess.

Yeah...

Sucks to be Clizby.

Oh, man.

I don't know what the hell's going on around here, Lipps,

but don't go thinking you're in the clear.

You've got a lot of explaining to do.

Oh c'mon, Lassie!

Someone just tried to squash him with this

majestic and mysterious...

What is this thing?

It's a chandelier, Shawn.

Um, can I make a phone call?

Phone call? To who?

I have to talk to my shrink.

It was Rip who actually turned me on to her.

She's been working miracles for us.

Helping us to get back all the years that we lost to drugs

and um...

Late night games of "Clock Me Noggin."

That's a white man's game.

It's true. Pull yourself together, man.

You can call your quack right after I figure out

which one of these three's the killer.

O'Hara, cover me.

Curt Smith! What?

This is awesome. What are you doing here?

Billy invited me.

I'm producing his new album,

Curt Smith, Duets with Curt Smith.

How are you, mate?

Well, Billy, I've been shot in the diaphragm...

And I'm fairly certain I was also attacked by

an adult panther?

Emma, sure. Did you say "shot"?

That would explain the shot we heard.

Oh my God, this man is very weak.

He's lost a lot of blood. We need to.

Ele-Ele...

Elevate!

His feet. Yes, please.

One, two, three!

Bend his feet.

Elevate his legs!

He is deceptively heavy!

Let me through. Let me through.

Oh. It's okay, Curt. It's really just a flesh wound.

Don't think about it, okay? Don't think about it.

Why don't, why don't you sing us a song

from your new Duets album?

All right.

The first one is a special version of Billy Boy.

- Oh, Billy Boy. - So I start...

Where have you gone, Billy boy, Billy boy?

And then I come in.

Where have you gone

Charming Billy?

Is your name Curt Smith?

No, it's not.

This is really serious.

It's so serious. It's very, very serious.

- I have to get... - Go!

Okay, yes, I will.

O'Hara,

get on the phone and call the paramedics.

Hopefully the storm won't slow them down

and cost this man his life.

Although odds are it does.

I don't suppose you saw who shot you?

I did, yes. They were gripping an ice pick.

And I saw the face clear as day.

It was...

No!

No!

The legend that is Curt Smith is dead.

Your hand is on the gentleman's head.

He's still alive. Oh, thank God!

All right.

One of you is the killer.

Now fess up.

What father? He's never met his father.

You were our bumber-one Snoopy back in the gay.

The killer is not in this room.

Really?

I'm sorry.

The killer is in this room.

Is the killer in this room or not, yes or no?

Yes. Yes, the killer is in this room,

or, yes, the killer is not in this room?

The killer is Leslie, the groupie.

That's right.

You hop-scotched from bed to bed

with rich rock stars back in the day,

and it led to a pea in your pod.

The question is, who is the daddy?

Wasn't so easy to force a paternity test back then.

So you were left to raise your child all by yourself.

Years of bitterness fueled a vengeful fire

made from flames,

and you came back here tonight

to off all the potential daddies,

one by one by one by one by one.

I'm also sensing that you lifted a few items

with DNA on them this evening.

What a brilliant yet murderous plan.

Come back here, take out all the potential daddies,

use DNA to figure out who the real one was,

and then collect money from their estate

to better support your child. Ah.

Okay! I took all the items.

But it was only because I needed some extra cash.

I was going to put them on eBay.

I was hit hard by the rece,

rece-re-re...

Recession!

Yes.

But I never, never hurt anyone.

And I know who Germaine's father

really is.

Gus, you have another kid. Shawn!

From our one night of passion.

I remember it so clearly.

You were a vision in your birthday suit.

And on that same night,

Melinda Lane was found dead in the guest room.

We were sleeping when I heard Billy screaming for help.

I rushed to the room with Martin,

and you stayed behind... Yes.

In a deep sleep from all of the alcohol,

Quaaludes, and Clizby.

Oh, I obsessed over

whether to tell you about Germaine,

but the combination of you having four other children with

four other groupies...

Clizby is the Shawn Kemp of butlers.

You know that's right.

And the risk of the other band members being jealous

because I was only sleeping with the butler.

I was worried they would fire you, Clizby.

Well, Spencer, your whole Leslie theory

doesn't seem to be holding water, now, does it?

Just, you know, for the record,

I'm pretty sure that Leslie and I had sex.

I didn't sleep with you, Billy.

And I didn't sleep with Rip.

And I certainly didn't sleep with Highway Harry.

She's right. We never did it.

It was, it was like shooting pool with a rope.

Freeze!

You put that gun on the floor and kick it over.

Harry, mate! We thought you were dead.

Where have you been?

I backed oot,

I yoke up, every blonde was blonde.

Yeah? Pound of buns in the yard.

Hovered the rocket boom. Zit.

He blacked out, woke up,

everyone was gone, found a gun in the yard,

and then discovered the chocolate room,

and that was it.

You tell me where that chocolate room is right now,

or I will kill you myself.

I don't stone bender.

What? He doesn't remember.

You sumbitch.

But then who hit Harry on the back of the head?

Oh, be Bob.

Bit me with a bot and baldy to groove out of her blazemint.

His mum hit him on the back of the head with a pot

and told him to move out of her basement. Yeah.

You live in your mother's basement?

Don't judge me.

Don't judge me!

Okay, so someone in this room killed Rip,

dragged him to the freezer,

dumped the murder weapon in the front yard,

shot Curt Smith,

and orchestrated

the colossal-chandelier trap?

She's summarizing, the female detective.

She's giving us a summary of the night's events.

My point is that perhaps it wasn't

one person who committed the crimes.

One person didn't commit all these crimes.

It had to be more than one person.

Yeah, I'm pretty sure I just said that.

I mean, think about it.

How could one person have pulled all this off

- without an accomplice? - Very interesting.

Well, Lassie, what do you say we put Juliet's theory

to the test? Thank you, Shawn.

Whoop!

Perhaps it was Rip

who killed Melinda all those years ago.

Apparently Rip and I got into a huge brawl

years ago over Melinda Lane.

He thought she was toxic to the band.

After all, she was toying

with both Billy's heart and Harry's heart.

She was a cancer to the band.

Rip wouldn't allow it, so he killed her.

You son of a bitch!

And Rip's mind was such mush,

he probably didn't even remember committing the murders.

But then, he started seeing a shrink,

and all the lost memories came back,

including the murder of Melinda Lane.

Riddled with guilt,

he confessed to Billy what he'd done.

And after five years in prison for a murder

you didn't commit, you snapped.

And you picked up an ice pick,

and you chased him throughout the house!

And you caught him, and you plunged the ice pick

into his back, killing him.

And then you almost threw up,

but you didn't.

And you bent down and you grabbed his warm,

thick, heavily tattooed arms

and began dragging his lifeless corpse.

You dragged Rip's body through the kitchen

and hid him in the freezer.

And went on with your evening.

But then I came strutting through the door,

and you were stricken with panic,

you had to get rid of the murder weapon.

Indeed! To the porte-cochère.

And so you snuck into the yard to dispose of the ice pick.

Where you saw Curt Smith.

What are you...

And you shot the legendary rock icon dead.

He's not dead!

You son of a bitch!

Boom.

But then who tried to kill Billy

with that big, monstrous chandelier?

Chocolate dance, chocolate dance

Chocolate dance

It's an entire room

You know, it's funny,

I don't have any real clarity on that one, Burton.

Oh, never mind.

Yeah, just file that one under accident.

That's a lot of nonsense.

Rip didn't kill nobody.

He was in the room next to me all night

snoring his ass off.

Which means I didn't kill Rip because he didn't kill Melinda,

which means I was never in the yard

dumping any murder weapon

because I didn't murder anyone!

Except for Melinda Lane.

I guess I still murdered her.

I'm sorry, sweetie.

It looks like this multiple-killer theory

isn't holding much water at the moment.

And you're right, Billy.

So everyone get comfy,

'cause I'm gonna tell you

how the real killer pulled this off.

Melinda Lane wasn't the real muse

behind the band back in the day.

The real muse

was the first card-carrying member

of the Wilt Chamberlain club,

makes the tastiest snacks this side of the Pecos

and also has a gift for whistling

undeniably catchy melodies.

Isn't that right, Clizby?

You see, Billy Lipps and the guys behind him

had been stealing your tunes and cash for years... Shh.

And all you have to show for it is a $25 watch?

That Swatch was $50.

Melinda. Plus tax.

Melinda. And five dollars for the engraving.

Billy! These wrap-ups are based on rhythm. I'm done.

Melinda kept taking all the credit

with the press for being the inspiration

behind all the band's hit songs,

and one day, you looked in the mirror and said,

"Man, I'm done with these Dapshats."

And after you did the special whoopee dance with Leslie.

Reloaded and ran it back.

You snuck into the room Melinda was sleeping in, and you smothered her good.

- That's crazy, man. - Is it?

Years later, Rip, after intensive psychotherapy,

started filling in the blanks.

He realized it was you who killed Melinda.

Came here to confront you.

You ice-picked him.

And were looking for a better hiding place for your murder weapon

when Curt Smith, legend that he is,

found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

May he rest in peace.

He's not dead.

Of course it was you, Clizby,

who loosened the screws on the ginormous chandelier,

knowing full well that it was Billy's magic spot,

and it was only a matter of time

before it fell and crushed that pasty, thieving ass.

Clizby! Say it isn't so.

I only have one black friend. It's you.

And I just don't have the time

or resources to find a replacement.

Hello. Who are you?

Fine.

It was me.

Those cats have been stealing from me for years.

I whistled the melodies of their two biggest hits.

Randy, Party of One and Sloppy Thirds.

And Curt. He stole from me too.

I got no credit for Sowing the Seeds of Love.

That's a hurtful lie Clizby.

Hands behind your back.

Time to go to jail...

Clizby.

Stupid name.

Don't worry, Curt.

We're going to be with you the whole way, mate.

Oh, where have you gone Billy boy, Billy boy?

Oh where have you gone Charming Billy? Charming Billy!

You're gonna be fine, Curt.

Just a flesh wound, baby.

Be good as new in no time. You're a trooper.

Curt Smith sings with Curt Smith.

Oh, God, no!

Somebody should probably call animal control, right?

Yes!

Great.

Now...

Gus and I are going to go home

and make love to our wives.

We're not married, Shawn.

Billy Lips didn't kill Melinda Lane all those years ago.

It was the band's manager,

Highway Harry.

Isn't that right? You were in love with her.

But she chose Billy over you

in this rock and roll triangle.

Years later, Rip, after intensive psychotherapy,

started to fill in the blanks.

He realized it was you who killed Melinda.

You were here crashing at the mansion.

He came to confront you.

You snapped. Ice-picked him.

Dropped his car on the side of the road.

Shoved his body in the freezer, after all,

who better to pin a murder on than the man who just got released from prison

for murder.

Oh, are you talking about me?

I sure am Billy.

Attempting to find a better hiding place for your bloody icepick,

Curt Smith, legend that he is,

found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

What are you...

Oh, where have you gone...

Shawn!

Billy boy, Billy boy.

He's in a better place now.

He's not dead.

Of course it was you Harry, who loosened the screws

on the ginormous chandelier

knowing full well it was Billy's magic spot.

And it was only a matter of time before it fell and squashed him dead.

Highway!

Say it isn't true mate. We're the best of friends.

We're good friends, we're decent fr... Okay,

we don't like each other at all,

but still it hurts, this betrayal.

Mopay!

I dig it! He said, "Okay, I did it."

Hands behind your back, mush brain.

Barbara Wallers, Bergdorf Goodman...

Stop it! Big kits!

You can make those jokes anymore.

Don't start that again.

Don't worry, Curt.

We're going to be with you the whole way, mate.

Oh, where have you gone Billy boy, Billy boy?

Oh where have you gone Charming Billy? Charming Billy!

You're gonna be fine, Curt.

Just a flesh wound, baby.

Be good as new in no time. Curt Smith sings with Curt Smith!

Oh, God, no!

Somebody should probably call animal control, right?

Yes!

Great.

Now...

Gus and I are going to go home

and make love to our wives.

We're not married, Shawn.

Rock Bottom is quite a read.

But how could Billy remember details about the night Melinda was killed,

when there is an entire decade that he can't remember.

Martin Kahn.

Rip and I's shrink was helping us to remember

all the years we lost to drugs.

He said you weren't present the night Melinda was killed.

But that's true, is it?

I rushed to the room with Martin.

No. Billy didn't kill Melinda.

You did.

You were in love with her.

But she only had eyes for the band.

But you weren't about to lose a girl to these deadheads.

I mean after all, you went to Harvard, am I right?

Class of '86.

1986?

Man that's a lot of bull...

You were this close to getting away with it,

but then they reopened the cold case for Melinda Lane.

Luckily you were in the midst of writing Rock Bottom

and had a rocker who couldn't remember years of his life.

So you started planting information in the biography

that pointed to Billy as the killer.

It worked like a charm.

You were to prison and got shanked by an androgynous man-boy

with a massive sweet tooth. Appetite, sure.

Rip found a shrink who helped him fill in the blanks.

He realized it was you who killed Melinda.

And he came here to confront you,

you were hanging out, working on a sequel to Rock Bottom.

You ice-picked him.

And were looking for a better hiding place for your murder weapon.

Curt Smith, legend that he is,

found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time.

May he rest in peace.

He's not dead.

Of course it was you, Martin, who loosened the screws on

the ginormous chandelier, knowing full well it was Billy's magic spot.

And it was only a matter of time.

Everyone got what they had coming.

I'm the smartest guy in the room.

I should always win, always.

Hands behind your back, professor.

There we go.

Don't worry, Curt.

We're going to be with you the whole way, mate.

Oh, where have you gone Billy boy, Billy boy?

Oh where have you gone Charming Billy? Charming Billy!

You're gonna be fine, Curt.

Just a flesh wound, baby.

Be good as new in no time. You're a trooper.

Curt Smith sings with Curt woo!

Oh, God, no!

Somebody should probably call animal control, right?

Yes!

Great.

Now...

Gus and I are going to go home

and make love to our wives.

We're not married, Shawn.

You're invited lucky you

To a party, whoop-de-do

There'll be wine and cocktails too

Who's your host? I wish I knew

You're invited

Don't be a D-bag and be late

You have a plus one