All language subtitles for Veronica Mars - 04x05 - Losing Streak.HULU.WEB-DL-NTb.En

Previously on Veronica Mars...

There's the rest of the dream team!

I hired my own P.I. to find the ring.

From what I hear, it's an heirloom

dating all the way back to the pharaohs.

Gimme your wallet and phone, bitch.

This is you, right? You're
the Sea Sprite shitter.

Hey!

Hey, that was my phone! You bi...

Well, I saw this clown's
friend put some powdery shit

in those girls' drinks.

Maybe he'll get hit by a car.

Violence is the unintended consequence
of letting a town go to seed.

Big Dick Casablancas

and Clyde Pickett... they're responsible

for the bombings.

You little piece of shit!

Cussing mothercusser.

- He...
- Bugged our office.

I believe you're right.

It's a theory.

I wouldn't stake my reputation on it.

I might stake yours, but...

- What?
- Hello. What do we have here?

Is that a bug?

- Who do you think?
- Powell divorce, probably.

20 million changing hands.

And his people were dirty.

What about Whole
Lotta Lotta versus Ramirez?

Those lawyers who came in here?

Hmm. Could have been the pizza man.

- Who?
- Penn Epner

and his merry band of Murderheads.

Remember? He came in here
wanting to combine forces?

That guy couldn't
find his ass with both hands!

- You wanna keep this?
- No, I don't use that brand.

Well, shit.

- Synced and corrected by Firefly -
- www.addic7ed.com -

So the pizza guy bugged your office?

Mm-hm. But we took care of it.

Hey... can we talk about this?

Yeah, about how I'm saving the
planet by biking everywhere?

Yeah, you're basically the Lorax.

Um, is it possible

that we could tie your
little friend up... outside?

Anything, my love.

Wait a minute.

- Hm?
- Come here.

I just want to remember what it
looked like before it got shrunk.

You've made that joke before.

- I know. It's a solid bit.
- Hm.

So, we'll meet up at
Wallace's after work?

Ohh.

Wallace's housewarming.

You know, I love Wallace, and Shae,

but some of their friends are...

Yuppies?

Boring yuppies.

- Text from Leo.
- Oh. Okay.

"Mark those five hours
yesterday as billable.

If an FBI auditor calls,
you have my back, right?"

Then there's a... I'm not emoji savvy,

- Yep.
- but it looks like a wink.

Yes, it's a wink.

So... how many courses
was this lunch, Veronica?

- We did some casework afterwards.
- Uh-huh.

You knew we were having lunch.

Yeah. Well, at five hours, shouldn't
it be called something else?

I thought your therapist had driven

all these dark thoughts
out of your head.

Well, what do you know,
there are a few left.

You gonna talk about this with her?

I don't like to go in
with a set playlist.

I like to keep it
improvisational, like jazz.

Another ding on therapy. It's like jazz.

But yeah, your marathon
lunch will probably come up.

You guys thought you
caught this asshole,

and you quit looking.

And now one of us has a dead son.

We haven't quit looking.

That man accused at the meeting
last night, why isn't he in custody?

I'm very sorry for your loss,
Mr. Linden, but rest assured,

- we are doing everything in our power...
- Ya know, I'm...

I'm gonna stop you
right there... Marcia.

May I call you Marcia?

Sure.

Enough with the steady
stream of bullshit.

I mean, it's like a bull somehow
found its way into your mouth

- and is just lettin' it rip.
- Okay, Mr. Linden...

Now, I started an online gambling empire

on the back of a credit card
with a $500 spending limit.

And now I own my own goddamn
island, on which I am literally king.

- Mr. Linden...
- Because I'm direct.

Because I'm not afraid
to ruffle any feathers.

And because I don't sit on my
ass in the middle of a crisis.

- Mr. Linden...
- No, excuse... excuse me.

You know, years from now,

when kids are building sand
castles on Neptune's beaches,

they're gonna be finding
pieces of my boy's skull.

And meanwhile, Marcia,

- you and your Podunk police department...
- Mr. Linden, sit down.

No, I'm happy standing.

I don't give a good
goddamn how happy you are.

I said sit down.

All right.

Now...

out on Dipshit Island,

you can swing your little
dick around all you like,

but Neptune? That's my island.

I will find the responsible party,
but let me make a few things clear.

Your boy, may he rest in peace,

was an asshole.

His hobby was drugging girls

who might not otherwise
have sex with him.

And you, sir, are under investigation

for tax fraud and tax evasion

and will soon be sipping drinks
out of a coconut in federal custody.

Oh, I know exactly who
you are, Calvin Linden.

And you don't scare me.

So...

here's how this is going to go.

You are going to leave this office now

and let me do my job.

Is that understood?

Hey!

You guys want a real story?

C'mon, get your asses over here.

You lined up on me all right?

Good? Good.

My name is Calvin Linden.

King of Platform 1881

and CEO of Fan Fantasy Fantasia.

My son...

was Prince Bryce Linden.

As we speak,

I am texting my
secretary of the treasury

to prepare a check for $250,000,

payable to whoever
finds my son's killer.

I prefer that he be brought in alive,

because I'm gonna kill
that prick myself. But...

I can be flexible on
that point. Whatever.

Mr. Linden. Mr. Linden, sir.

Yeah, Stretch. What do you need?

Do you have any theories
on who might have...

No.

Thanks, babe.

Hey, look who it is,
Noah. It's Auntie Veronica.

Bearing gifts.

You guy aren't weird
about grenades, are you?

Oh, 'course not.

And just in time. He was getting tired

of the throwing stars you gave him.

And our poor dog...

You don't have a dog.

Well, not anymore.

- Thank you so much for coming.
- Thanks for having me.

Shae!

- Oh, excuse me, Veronica.
- Mm-hm.

I'm glad you made it.

I thought you would be
out chasing that reward.

Pfft. It's gonna be a nightmare.

Every idiot in town
stepping on clues? No.

Well, I was about to put Noah down.

I'm a big girl. I'll be fine.

We want to preserve the
bathroom's original integrity,

but tracking down vintage
tile that matches...

And you finally find the correct
shade, but it's not the correct size.

Ya know?

Have you tried the hummus?

A-maz-ing.

I'm not really a hummus girl.

Trust me, it'll change your life.

A P.I.

That must be fascinating.

I used to love watching Charlie
Chan movies with my grandpa.

- It's pretty different.
- Well, obviously,

but the idea's basically the same.

Eliza was 53rd on the waiting list

for three spots at this preschool.

Ooh. Not great.

So, when I got pregnant again,

I called and I asked to see if I
could get my unborn child on the list,

and they said sure. And
here is the crazy part...

How could this get any crazier?

Nicole. Hey, when did you get...

Shh. I need to hear
the end of this. Go on.

Riverwood gives preferential
treatment to siblings,

so... my fetus actually
ends up getting Eliza in.

- That's mind-boggling.
- Yeah? Wow.

Yeah. I mean, it's... it's nothing

compared to what happened
with Veronica's kids.

- My kids. Yeah.
- Yeah.

- That was insane.
- Insane.

- Well, tell her the story. Come on.
- Oh, I've told it so many times.

You have to hear it.
It's so good, though.

- Okay.
- Okay.

So I was searching for
a preschool for my twins,

uh, Hakeem and Olajuwon.

Hakeem is a dream, and Olajuwon
has the heart of a champion.

You're very sweet.

Well, the preschool that I liked
is very gung-ho about diversity.

They hear those names, they
make certain assumptions.

They assume they were black.
And African. And Muslim.

Yeah. But we're not Muslim.

And so, on the first day,
two little blond boys show up

and the school was like, "What?!"

And while I swear I had no
intention of gaming the system...

She's just a huge fan of 1990s
Houston Rockets basketball.

Mm-hm. But it's a great preschool,
so I just kept my big trap shut.

Excuse me.

Whew.

What now?

I wouldn't have thought of
you as someone who vapes.

Took you for old-school.

Well, my bong doesn't fit in my bag.

Mm.

Your bag is vibrating, Veronica.

What have you got in there?

Mr. Rabbit, is that you?

No, it's Mr. Phone.

Ohh.

Hey, Honey Bunches of Oats.

Hey, Cap'n Crunch.

Looks like I'm not
gettin' off till late.

The congressman's gettin' stir-crazy.

Coolio. It's fine. Don't worry about it.

Are you high?

Yeah. On life.

And weed.

Nicole brought it.

Fun.

- Just promise you won't drive.
- I promise.

Same goes for Nicole.

Nicole, my dad says you cannot drive.

No problem. I have a driver.

Hey, I'm sorry about this morning.

I shouldn't have perused your messages.

That one from Leo, though,

was a real page-turner.

Forgiven. But...

just so you know, if the
situation were reversed,

I would consider your privacy sacred.

You are high.

- Okay, bye!
- Okay, bye!

You have a gun.

- And a hairbrush.
- Mm.

- You have a driver?
- I do.

Can we shoot it?

It's mostly just used for brushing hair.

Oh! The gun.

Mm.

So, I know who not to
get in a gunfight with.

I'm not usually that accurate,

I just really hate bottles.

They're the worst.

But as a bar owner, I've
learned to make my peace.

Comrade Quacks.

Okay, how did a
cosmopolitan woman like you

end up owning a place like that?

A shitty meat market with a stupid name

when, on a personal
level, I'm dope as hell?

Basically.

Well, the original
owner, Ilya Varushkin,

was this crazy Russian.

I was a cocktail waitress,
and we'd get off at 4:00 a.m.

and be forced to walk the five
blocks back to where we parked,

and Ilya refused to
provide security, or lights,

despite our repeated requests.

And one night...

morning...

I was attacked and raped.

Shit.

Sorry, I didn't... I did...

No, I mean, I... I sued that
Russian prick for all he had.

Turns out all he had
was Comrade Quacks. So...

You think
construction sites have security?

My family had a construction
business. Trust me, we're fine.

- Ah.
- Mm.

What were we talking about?

Uh... Um... men suck.

Ah. Yes.

Some.

Many.

Aaron Heller, who called me the C-word

because I canceled plans
with him the day my mum died.

Sam Hicks, who said I completed him

and then completed in
my roommate's mouth.

The asshole who raped me

and every other asshole who's
put his hands and his mouth

and his dick where it didn't belong.

Your turn.

Find every last scrap of dirt
on that lying piece of shit!

Penn's a punk, no argument there.

I want to know every girl
who ever laughed in his face.

Every sweat sock he
ever tried to impregnate.

Every back zit he ever popped.

But you'll just end up making
this into a bigger thing than...

What, I'm makin' it a bigger thing?!

He stood up in front
of the City Council!

But Clyde, no one believes him!

He's the pizza boy who cried wolf!

And if I've learned anything from
hip hop, you don't punch down.

I...

- You listen to hip hop?
- No.

But Veronica dragged me to
Straight Outta Compton.

I-I feel I'm up to speed.

Come on.

You all right?

Yeah.

Sorry, this kind of shit just
really sets me off, ya know?

I mean, I've worked
very hard to get back

some semblance of respectability.

And it's not like
I don't get it. I get it.

I mean, I've done some
things I'm not proud of.

Haven't we all?

Well, we haven't
all robbed multiple banks.

- Not for lack of trying.
- Yeah.

But I do feel like shootin' something,
though. You wanna join me?

- Promise there'll be beer?
- Scout's honor.

See you at noon.

Oh, my God,

oh, my God, oh, my God.

Have you thought about
what you're gonna wear?

I'm thinking a backless top, but
with jeans, just to balance it out.

I was thinkin' trench
coat, nothing underneath.

Ooh, the old standby.

And where is your gentleman
caller taking you tomorrow, Dad?

- Duck hunting.
- Kinky.

You realize it's not gonna
be in a carnival booth?

Gives me a chance to work him.

You and our prime suspect, drunk,
in a secluded wood with guns.

- What could go wrong?
- That's the spirit.

Any luck tying him and Big
Dick to those shell companies?

You were bragging about
your mad computer skills.

No, I meant "bad" computer skills.

The list is on my computer. Have at it.

Still feel like we're
on the right track here?

I do.

Lay it out for me.

Big Dick wants to remake
the boardwalk on a budget,

so he enlists his Chino pal,
Clyde, to soften up the market.

The harassment campaign isn't driving

local business owners out fast enough,

so they commission a bunch of bombs

from their other Chino pal, Perry Walsh.

We get close to Walsh, they...

And they still have some bombs,

so they just keep going.

I can almost get there. It's just...

the collar bomb.

Maybe Big Dick and Clyde would
kill to get what they want,

but this collar bomb,

the person who does that feels like

someone just released
from Arkham Asylum.

_

_

_

_

_

So this is what it would have been like

if you had friends in high school.

_

_

What?

The former owner of Comrade Quacks
just asked Nicole for a favor.

- Why is that funny?
- She sued the guy.

Took the only thing he
owned. Comrade Quacks.

Sued him over what?

Um, not providing adequate security.

She was raped?

- I didn't say th...
- Nightclub is a sizeable settlement,

I can tell she wasn't murdered...

... and you said it was over security.

You should be a private investigator.

Why are you so fired up?

I was looking for
patterns among the victims.

Have you noticed that each of the bombs

killed someone with a sex
offense in his history?

Jimmy Hatfield, at the Sea Sprite,
kicked out of his first college

after two women accused him of
popping up in their dorm room beds

naked and uninvited.

Perry Walsh. Mailed an
ex-girlfriend a package bomb

along with a misogyny-laced
"get well soon" card.

Bryce Linden, accused earlier
of trying to roofie women,

and you told me that the
margarita slinger on the beach

said something sexual to you.

It's a pattern. But
I was missing a perp.

- And now?
- What about Nicole?

- As the perp?!
- I'm just sayin'.

We saw what she did to Jimmy Hatfield.

Not a lot of ladies slip on sap gloves

and knock men out with
practiced right hooks.

Plus we know for sure
that almost every victim

passed through Quacks.

This is a cussing joke, right?

I make fun of you for
befriending our lead suspect,

and now you pull this
theory out of your ass.

Yeah. Yeah, I'm probably
grasping at straws.

She hasn't spoken about her
expertise with explosives,

- has she?
- Oh, yeah.

She makes those perfectly round
bombs like Boris and Natasha.

And she likes to...

What?

Her family is... in
construction, which means...

Demolition. She has the know-how.

But answer this.

Nicole's business
hinges on spring break.

Why would she destroy her livelihood?

Fair enough.

Point, set, match.

My new friend is not a mass murderer.

Yours probably is.

We'll see.

Chief.

Things just got weirder.

What's that?

It's a note from someone
claiming to be the bomber.

Let me see that.

Y'know, you should probably wear gloves.

I can just read it to you.

"I am the Neptune spring break bomber.

I hope you and your
feeble-minded officers

have enjoyed my first four explosions.

But now the real fun begins,
unless you accede to my demands."

And there's... an
ultimatum for the mayor.

- Let me see that.
- And something about Neptune

prostituting itself each year.

Has anybody else seen this?

Yeah, I'm coming home now.

Do you want me to pick
something up for dinner?

Like really cooking?

Or opening cans of soup?

Maybe you should handle dinner.

Nope, a recidivist. Be back soon.

Weevil?

What's wrong with you, Veronica?

You know, there are a range of opinions.

You got a problem with me, deal with me.

What you talkin' 'bout, Weevil?

Using a 19-year-old kid as a chip.

Wow. That's some gutter shit.

Try remembering when you were cool.

Hm. Well, I mean, since
you asked so nicely.

Juan Diego's brother?

He took out two high-ranking Nuestra
Familia street commanders.

That kid shows up in
the Cali prison system,

they're gonna put him in a box.

Oh, that Juan Diego.
The ice machine shitter.

Well, maybe he should
have considered that

before he held a knife to my throat.

But you know what?

Bygones.

Now, if you'll just... fill me in

on what's causing the uptick
in petty crime by the boardwalk,

my heart will remain
three sizes too big.

No clue.

Bullshit!

You and me.

We were close once.

- If there's anything left...
- There's not.

My dad went out on a limb for you.

He and Cliff spent a year

building your case against
the Sheriff's Department,

and you settled behind their backs.

I had a wife and a
daughter to think about.

I don't live on Cherry Tree Lane, V!

I needed the money!

Does that make me a criminal?

No. Being a criminal
makes you a criminal.

Which is why Jade split town, right?

She didn't want her kid raised by a...

Stop there, Veronica!

Hector.

Yeah. Go ahead.

Are you sure?

That's great news. All right.

Yeah, bye.

Great news, huh?

Did you make the cover
of Hoodlum Weekly?

Cops can't find the guy who filed
the complaint against Juan Diego.

He must've split town.

So the charges are
dropped! How about that?

Turns out I'm not lowdown gutter trash.

Jury's out.

The primary font he used is Avenir.

Which is French for "future".

Is he maybe indicating time frame?

Avenir's also classified
as a geometric typeface.

I'll start drawing squares, triangles,
and trapezoids through the text.

Maybe there's a message.

The word "fun" is blue.

"House" is red. Red
and blue make purple.

Purple funhouse.

The funhouse version...
of purple is green.

The next bomb won't be at the
beach, it'll be somewhere green.

A-A field, a wooded
area, someone's lawn.

Yeah, well, that narrows it
down to literally everywhere.

And the funhouse version
of purple is green? What?!

What's your better idea?

Uh, you know what, it's not
better than funhouse purple.

But you've set the bar so high, Don.

You're still stuck on your
Big Dick theory, Penn?

Why?

The $250,000 reward?

I mean, I understand I'm
not independently wealthy

like the rest of you, so by all means,

keep following Don down the garden path.

Think about it, Penn.

Does this note really
sound like Big Dick?

Did it ever occur to you
that it could be fake?

Big Dick or Clyde Pickett

could have written it to
throw us off the scent!

Everyone hold on to your straws.
Someone's grasping for them.

You know what?

Are you changing my filter again?

Did he change it? What did he make me?

Look, it may sound absurd...

You're shitting me. It's bullshit.

It's some dumb kid from Hearst
College thinking he's funny.

Well, maybe.

But if there's even a five
percent chance, Mark...

No, I say that we roll the
dice. I'm not doing this.

Way to stake out the
moral high ground, Mark.

Well, eat shit, Marcia!

Theresa, will you talk
some sense into her?

Mark, I agree with Chief Langdon.

From a human standpoint,

and not to be crass, but from
a political standpoint as well,

I don't see where you have much choice.

I need to call my wife.

You'd do it if you were mayor.

You're a natural-born hero.

Debatable.

You buyin' that letter?
It reeks of knucklehead.

Agreed.

I guess we'll know if,
as the letter promises,

"the real fun is only just beginning."

Hey, you fare any better than
I did on those shell companies?

Nope.

We're gonna need someone
with serious hacking chops.

I thought you youngsters
were all computer whizzes.

What happened? Too busy taking selfies?

Hey, are you cooking something?

Nope.

You sure you're not cooking anything?

Holy shit!

Ohh.

Your breakfast burrito, I presume?

Yeah. I heated up the toaster
and I forgot to put it in.

Maybe if we just hook up jumper
cables to your brain every morning?

What is goin' on with you?

Hello?

Anybody there? It's Matty.

So I... thought I should drop by

and, um, apologize.

For?

I told Penn your theory...

about all the criminal activity
being sourced back to Chino.

- I didn't think he'd go broadcasting it...
- It's okay.

I knew a girl your age who
frequently made ill-advised decisions.

- Who?
- Hm?

I just wanna be able to help.

How are your hacking skills?

Non-existent.

Oh, cuss a duck.

I do know someone, though. He's amazing.

You guys read about how
everyone at Neptune High

got straight A's last year?

- Yeah. That was him?
- Mm-hm.

Wow. He's a friend of yours?

Um, not really.

Hm. That's too bad.

I think he likes me, though.

- Hey there.
- Hey, good morning. Thank you.

- Hey.
- Good morning. Good morning.

Hey. Matty. Have you seen Caelen?

Uh, he had to talk to Ms. Adler.
He should be here soon.

- So, you excited?
- About?

San Diego Air & Space Museum!

It's the Curtiss B-1
Robin of field trips!

Is that a plane?

Yes. That's a plane.

Listen up.

We only have a few hours at
the museum, and a lot to see.

So I need you all on best behavior.

And just a reminder, I'm still
waiting on computing programs

from our optics unit from some of you.

You hear that last part, Owen?

I know the work's below your level...

A kid in diapers could write a
scratch version of Pong, Coach Fennel.

I have a kid in diapers.
I'll test your theory.

I still need you to turn it in.

He doesn't get it.

No one at this school does.

"Get your assignments done,
move through the maze..."

It's like, who cares
that you've got this...

giant brain in there?

Hey...

weird question.

Do you know anything about real estate?

Sorry.

Ohh. That's too bad.

I have all these people coming
at me to buy my dad's motel,

and I wanna pick the right one,

but I'm having an impossible time
getting info on the companies.

I'm rambling. Sorry to bug you.

Wait, hold on.

You can hack their systems.

I'm sure these places
have insane security.

I'd have to be... a computer genius.

You wouldn't have to be.

Oh, my God, Owen.

That's so sweet.

It's a slippery slope, Owen.

While my client did have relations

with the man in question,
no money changed hands.

Really.

The john was fresh from
a tour in Afghanistan,

and Ms. Carlyle has a
"veterans fly free" policy.

My client has saluted many vets.

Men, women,

from both Iraq wars, Vietnam, Korea...

even an intrepid World War II vet.

They really are the Greatest Generation.

Now, I'm perfectly willing to
trot out every last one of them,

but wouldn't it be better to
applaud Ms. Carlyle's love of country

rather than putting us all
through a lengthy trial?

Motion for dismissal granted.

Ms. Carlyle, you're free to go.

Thank you, Your Honor.
And God bless America.

See, that's what I've been saying.
Taking a knee is patriotic.

Hello, Veronica.

Oh. What can I do for you?

Juan Diego De La Cruz. I
believe he's a client of yours?

Only for another couple hours.
Charges have been dropped.

That one's in the win column.

New charges were just filed against him.

- Well, shit.
- By me.

- If I could be so bold...
- I need leverage over Weevil.

Begging the question...

Weevil may not have anything
to do with the bombs,

but I think he has information

that could get us closer
to knowing who does.

Juan Diego is scheduled to be
re-arraigned this afternoon.

Hm. I'd planned on taking The
Missus on a hike this afternoon.

The Missus is my new puppy.

You named your dog The Missus?

Says the owner of a dog named Pony.

- Okay.
- So, Weevil...

ah, can't be happy about
any of this, I take it.

- I guarantee it.
- Well, then, The Missus will understand.

Oh, one more thing.

Middle-aged white guys share secrets

with others of their kind, don't they?

How else would we know

which no-prescription-needed
websites selling Viagra are legit?

Gross. Um, has my dad talked
to you about... memory issues?

I forget.

Cliff.

Cliff!

Have you noticed anything
unusual with my dad?

- With his memory?
- Unusual?

You cagey mothercusser.
Tell me what you know.

It is not my place to say,
Veronica. Ask your dad.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have
a new old client I need to see.

I-I don't think I can do this.

Of course you can. You
are the bravest man I know.

My dad is going to see. All
our friends. What'll they think?

They'll think what everyone
else in town is going to think:

that Mark Dobbins is a hero.

Yeah? What about your sister?

She won't think I'm a hero.

My sister's a bitch.

Come here.

I'm so proud of you.

Ahh, I shoulda worked out more.

You look great. Come on.

Oh, um...

what about your shoes?

The letter said "not a stitch".

I-I-I can't run without shoes.

I think... this
humiliation was the point.

I'm sure you're right.

Go get 'em.

Okay...

You hear Santino and
Tomas were gunned down?

What's that, nine more dead now?

Just since we've been here?

Try this.

It's got lavender? Like the flower?

Just a hint.

- That's good!
- Yeah.

That's really good!

A lavender latte?

- ¿Por favor?
- Sure.

Could you imaging having
a meal like this back home?

Without lookin' over your
shoulder every second...

afraid you'll be shot in the back?

But for fate, we coulda been born here.

This coulda been our lives.

So normal.

- To normal.
- To normal.

You know me, Veronica.
What do I always say?

"Are you gonna eat that?"

Please. I always say, "You
don't negotiate with terrorists."

I don't think I've
heard you say that once

in the 25 years I've known you.

Regardless, watching our valiant mayor

trotting down Ocean
Ave in his altogether

was pretty damn entertaining.

Here it is.

Wait, that's the
video you want to show me?

The naked mayor one?

No. That poor man.

Poor man? Oh, obviously,
you haven't seen the video.

He's a human tripod.

It's like watching The
War of the Worlds.

Oh. Here's one of The Missus
being humped by Smoky Joe,

the neighborhood Lothario.

Counselor? Your client?

Thanks, Deputy.

Who are you?

I'm your court-appointed
lawyer. Cliff McCorm...

- Whatever.
- Why is she here?

She's your accuser.

Since when? I thought I was getting out.

Since this morning. Stay strong, J.D.

Oh, lady, come on!

"Lady"? Cuss you.

"Lady".

You have no idea what you're doing here.

I'm pretty sure I do.

I'm putting you in an
impossible situation.

If you don't give me satisfactory
answers to my questions,

I have the power to put you in Chino

where people are waiting to kill you.

And if I tell you what you
wanna know, I'm just as dead.

Where'd this money come from?

My wallet. You stole 'em.

How did you get 'em?

I own a casino.

Okay. I'm done here.

Where's the D.A.'s office again?

I just wanna stop by and let 'em know

how terrified I was when your
client held a knife to my throat.

You don't care that you're going
to end up getting me killed?

You don't seem to care about

all those people
getting killed by bombs.

Bombs? I have nothing to do with bombs.

I am not so sure.

Six hundred.

I mean, it's not a fortune, but
it'll get you far away from here.

Talk to me and it's yours.

Weevil.

He gave us a yard for every
spring breaker's wallet we took.

You ever see Weevil with this guy?

Lots of folks need body work done.
I can't keep track of 'em all.

I'd prefer you don't die, but
that's all it is, a preference.

Yeah, I saw him, okay?

That's the money man. Clyde something.

He'd drop by Weevil's shop,

and when we saw him
I knew it was payday.

Weevil said that he's someone
that we don't want to mess with.

♪ On the first part of the journey... ♪

Want a beer?

- Please.
- ♪ I was lookin' at all the life ♪

♪ There were plants and
birds and rocks... ♪

That is impressive. Very impressive.

♪ The first thing I met
was a fly with a buzz ♪

Can I make a confession?

♪ ... with no clouds ♪

I've never been hunting.

Coulda fooled me.

- You've shot at people, though, right?
- I have.

Pretty much the same principle. Cheers.

♪ On a horse with no name ♪

♪ It felt good to be out of the rain ♪

♪ In the desert... ♪

Okay, first concert.

CCR. I was nine.

Ended up being their final tour.

Wow. Weren't you Joe Cool?

Ugh.

Yeah?

I don't care.

No, I promise you, I don't.

♪ After two days... ♪

Just tell that son
of a bitch he is gone.

If he's still there when I get
back, I'll tell him face-to-face,

and he will not enjoy that encounter.

♪ I was looking at a river bed ♪

No pets.

Very clear policy.

This jackass renting one of our units

has a boa constrictor
that keeps getting loose!

♪ ... the desert
on a horse with no name ♪

Could come in handy if
you have an ocelot problem.

- I gotta take a piss.
- Okay.

♪ There ain't no one
for to give you no pain ♪

♪ Da da, da, da da da da da ♪

♪ Da da da, da da ♪

♪ Da da, da, da da da da da... ♪

Goddamnit. Goddamnit.

What's the point of all this
technology if it doesn't work?

Stupid thing isn't
taking my thumb print.

Well, that could be because
that stupid thing

only takes my thumb print.

Oh, God, you see?

See? I'm losing it. I'm losing...

So, I managed to get some
alone time with Clyde's phone.

Interested in what he and Big Dick

have texted each other
about the bombings?

"There's gonna be
no Neptune left worth owning

if these bombs keep going off.

Not sure we have the right
police chief for the moment."

Clyde responds,

"At least people realize your
dead library friend isn't the guy,

not after the horse collar bomb."
And it goes along like this.

Just two guys trying to figure
out who they think is responsible.

How'd you get ahold of Clyde's phone?

Clyde took a call and then left
the duck blind to relieve himself.

I know what you're gonna say.

That he left his phone
out for you to explore?

Clyde is responsible for all
the shit going down around town.

- He's got a-a whole ex-con network...
- That's the theory.

It's not a theory anymore. It's a fact.

I know he's paying
Weevil to send out PCH-ers

to mug tourists and
vandalize businesses.

And the grocery store rats

did come courtesy of an ex-con employed

at Dobie's Sweet Release bakery.

And I think it's safe to assume

that Matty was right about
the first bomb being placed

in the vending machine from Alpha-Jolly,

courtesy of fellow
Chino inmate Perry Walsh.

I see you've been digging
through my personal files.

Your memory journal.

Were you ever gonna tell me?

I didn't want to scare you.

Well, guess what. I'm scared.

I'm not dying.

- Well, that's reassuring.
- I've seen doctors.

Yeah, like this, um, fancy
pants in Beverly Hills?

Did you take out a second mortgage?

Clyde got me in there.

And I know what you're gonna say.

I lost my perspective. And
maybe you're right. Ethically...

Do you think I give a
shit about ethics here?

If Clyde and Big Dick offer
you top-flight medical care,

you say yes. You hear me?

Screw appearances.

I know Keith Mars can't be bought.

I've been thinking a lot lately.

Obsessing, really.
Veronica, I am afraid that

I'm just gonna end up
doing something s-stupid.

- No.
- Somethin' dumb.

Forget something. Blow a case.

Or worse... get one of us hurt.

I'm starting to think that
maybe it's time to hang it up.

What?

No. You're 56.

56 is the new 19. I can
show you the article.

56 is 56, Veronica.

Once we wrap up this case...

take a vacation.

I'll hold down the fort.

Let's talk about that.

At first, I thought he was
gonna say he was retiring,

which would have been bad enough.

Instead, he tells me we
should shut down the business

and I should go chase
waterfalls or some shit.

Does he actually think
that I would leave town

after hearing news like that?

"Oh, a doctor put you on
medication for dementia?

Cool! See ya!"

Sounds like he wants you to leave.

He's being a martyr. Trying
to let me off the hook.

Because you being off the
hook will make him happy.

Please. I cannot deal with
Therapy Logan right now.

Y'know, there's this scene
in The Crucible...

Oh. Broadway Logan
might not be much better.

Salem witch trials.

This guy's dying under the weight
of these heavy stones. But...

he won't give in to his tormenters.

He just keeps saying, "More weight".

Okay, I...

That's you, Veronica.

- I'm a witch?
- You're not happy.

And you act like you don't have the
power to change your circumstances.

I love you. I do.

But if I'm not what you want, say so.

You want to stay in Neptune,
you want to leave Neptune,

it's also your call.

It's your life. You
get to do what you want.

Are you serious right now?
I do what I want.

No, you don't.

Not really.

Ooh, you are starting to piss me off.

If I wasn't around and
your father wasn't around,

what would you be doing?

I would be sticking my head in the oven,

because the two most important
people in my life would be gone.

I'm sorry.

It was the wrong time to bring this up.

Your dad's gonna be fine.

It's all gonna be okay.

Hello.

Ho ho ho ho! Look at that.

She seems nice.

This is the cheap shit
lost-and-found, isn't it?

I mean, if you did find
an Egyptian heirloom ring

that belonged to a congressman that
was worth hundreds of thousands,

you wouldn't keep it in here, would you?

That's all there is.

That's all there is. All right.

Wonderful bedside manner.

There ya are. Ha ha ha!

Help me with the wind.

Oh, yeah. Mm.

Mm.

Oh!

Nicole Malloy. Just the
lady I was lookin' for.

- Ah. Seen your face on benches.
- Thank you.

- I'm on my way out.
- Well.

Well, this'll just take a minute.

Ya know, just a minute.

So, from what I can suss out,

all the bombing victims spent
time in your club, right?

So I'm thinkin' that the killer
was pickin' his victims here.

And I'm hopin' that maybe
you can let me check out

the security footage
dating back to the first day

that the spring breakers came into town.

- Why would I do that?
- $250,000.

It's a nice chunk of change, right?

I certainly can be
persuaded to spring...

We gotta get outta here! Let's go!

So, prior to the blast, did
you notice anyone suspicious?

Yeah. The bartender had a bad attitude.

It made me uncomfortable.

So, the bomb. Men's room or ladies'?

I'll ask the questions, Mr. Van Lowe.

Call me Vinnie.

Chief...

no dead so far. Three
in critical condition.

More of these nails.

Muchas gracias.

So, where were we?

Oh. Uh, I believe you were giving me

a list of your persons of interest?

Are you all right?

- I got here as fast as I could.
- Thanks.

You: stay.

This is a crime scene. No P.I.s.

He's a P.I.

He's a witness.

Yeah, I'm a witness.

Well, Veronica's my friend...

she came to comfort me at my request.

Congrats, Veronica. You found a friend.

- Is that a woman's jacket, Vinnie?
- It was free.

I should hope so.

Ms. Mars? Please.

I'll be okay.

We still on for tomorrow night?

More than ever.

Okay.

All right, I just have
a couple more questions.

Yeah, and I have a few as well.

- Excuse me?
- I'm sorry, you go first,

and then I'll answer. I'll
follow up. I'll be the caboose.

Uh, Alexa, shuffle my
playlist After Work Tunes.

Shuffling playlist After Work Tunes.

♪ Now I, I'm cravin' your body ♪

♪ Is this real, my
temperature's risin' ♪

♪ I don't want to feel ♪

♪ I'm in the wrong place ♪

♪ To be real ♪

♪ Whoa, and I'm longing to love you... ♪

Oh. Carol.

"Prostitute yourself".

Uh, sorry?

- Uh, can I come in?
- Yeah. Yeah.

What's this about?

The bomber. In the
letter in the newspaper,

he warned about Neptune
prostituting itself.

Well, yeah, he's late.

I mean, he should've send
that letter 20 years ago.

It's a weird phrase, isn't it?

I mean, how often do you
reference prostituting yourself?

Uh, never.

Yeah! Who says that?

Well, weirdos and...
serial bombers, it seems.

Big Dick Casablancas says it routinely.

W-What? How do you know this?

His Twitter account. He posts regularly.

Want to know how many times he's tweeted

some variation of
"prostituting yourself"

since he opened his account?

Well, I mean, if it's more
than one, he's our guy.

- No!
- Yeah!

Yeah, the fire department prostituted
itself by offering paid tours,

uh, public library, same thing for
allowing the "Say Yaas" program,

where drag queens read
from their journals...

And... And... And Big Dick
is mad at the mayor, too,

for delaying the NUTT vote!

The bomber... got the mayor to streak!

You were right, Penn!

I think you were right!

I was right!

♪ I'm longing to love you ♪

♪ For one night ♪

♪ Please let me love you ♪

♪ With all of my might ♪

- I wanna take this off.
- Okay.

- It's so sexy that you were right.
- Oh.

What? Oh! Oh! Did I...
Did I do something wrong?

No, it's just there's
something digging into my back.

What?

- Oh, my God.
- Oh, Jesus Christ!

Jesus Christ!

I think it was his beak.

How did you know where I lived?

You had that "No High
Rises" button in your car,

and the only people who give a shit
about high rises are beach people.

And given your ten-year-old Hyundai,

the place had to be rent-controlled,

limiting me to a small
section of beachfront property.

And I knew you had a big dog

because of the big dog
toys in said beater car.

I saw a leash hangin' outside your door.

Anyway, my hacker
acquaintance did some digging,

and it turns out all of
those out-of-state buyers are,

in fact, shell corporations

owned by something called
Phoenix Land Trust.

Beaver.

I don't know what that
means, but Phoenix Land Trust

was owned by a Cassidy...

get this... Casablancas,

- Mm-hm.
- until his death in 2006,

at which point ownership
transferred to...

Big Dick Casablancas.

His dad. Yeah.

Phoenix Land Trust has bought a ton
of property in the last six months.

Owen made a list of those as well.

And that's how I found
out my new friend Nicole

sold Comrade Quacks
after the first bombing.

Ownership was to officially
transfer at the end of spring break.

She didn't care if lower Neptune
was buried under a pile of rubble.

She was getting the hell out of Dodge.

What?

My issue with
trust, it's not hardwiring...

- Great. Thank you. Bye.
- It's experience.

You ready?

Let's do it.

And in my experience,

the people you care
about let you down...

but only if you let them.

- Synced and corrected by Firefly -
- www.addic7ed.com -