All language subtitles for 11-The.Mysteries.of.Laura.S01E11.HDTV.x264-LOL-eng

You think you can do it again?

Oh, I can hit that
all night long, baby.

I don't know.

You usually have a hard
time finding the bull's-eye.

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- Oh!
- That's what I'm talking about!

Oh, no.

Boom! Turn down for what?

Oh, lucky!

Luck? There's no luck in darts.

Drink up, losers!

I love team bonding night!

Are y'all ready to call it a night, or what?

I am not letting Jake walk out
here with that smirk on his face.

How about we raise the stakes?

Fine. In addition to shots,

the winners own the other team.

Bitch for a day? I like it!

For a day? Nah.

- For a week.
- Oh, I love it!

Words you soon shall be eating.

- Oh!
Diamond.

This is a terrible idea.

Shh. Relax.

Max has been watering
down our drinks all night.

Sorry. "I've been" what?

Please tell me that I haven't actually

downed eight shots of tequila.

Why do you think I've been
winking at you all night?

I thought it was 'cause you like me.

Synced by emmasan
www.addic7ed.com

Hey, I'm telling ya, I've
been here since 2:00 A.M.

I don't have no idea why your sister thinks

I was in great neck having
Asian with Decavellichi.

'Cause she's out of her
mind like the rest of you.

Wh... what could I tell you?

I gotta call you back.

Mike, cut it, cut it. Mike, cut it!

Holy crap.

He's frozen.

Trash.

Why did it have to be trash?

Diamond, you know, you're looking
about as rough as our guy here.

- Karma.
- Can't believe you won that bet.

No amount of alcohol was gonna stop me

from making Jake my errand boy.

You go, girl.

Yeah. It's gonna be a glorious month.

"Week." We weren't that drunk.

Just checking.

Hey, you think we can squeeze
in a smidge of police work?

Male, mid-30s.

No prints in the system.

No wallet, no ID.

All he had on him was this snazzy lighter.

Hmm.

He die of exposure?

It was freezing last night,

and all he had on was a T-shirt.

No, no. This one was frozen after he died.

Cause of death was carbon dioxide poisoning.

Pink skin, it's a telltale sign.

Usually occurs in areas

of low oxygen levels, mine shaft,

top of Mount Everest.

Unless that garbage truck started in Nepal,

I'm guessing there's another reason

why vanilla ice ended up
in a New York City dump.

- Tough loss, cap.
- Tell me about it.

Laura called, said she's in
the mood for a bagel, toasted,

scooped out, light on the poppy seeds.

Who sells bagels with "light poppy seeds"?

No one, Soto.

No one.

Less giggling, more filing.

God, I love team bonding night.

- William.
- Hey.

Anybody claim frosty the dead man?

No, but we got a hit off a
thumbprint on his lighter.

Selena Barnes.

Are we loving the hair, or what?

She's a ba... ba... bad girl!

Half a dozen arrests for petty
theft and residential burglary.

According to her parole officer,
she should be there now.

I love 12-Steppers.

They're always so ready to tell all.

Used to be five, six times a day.

What's your guess? Drugs? Booze?

I've gone almost a week without
pleasuring myself at work.

None of the above.

Guess my friend's got a little freaky side.

No. She's not here.

Maybe they know something.

Beat this. Everything's gonna be okay.

Hi, I'm Detective Laura Dia...

- Hi, Laura.
- Oh.

Oh, no. I'm not here for myself.

Seriously. I haven't had sex in over a year.

Oh, my God.

That's so kind of you.

No, I'm, uh, investigating a murder,

and just have a few questions
for you fine people.

I hope it isn't someone we know.

Selena Barnes?

You got a minute?

You're almost hot enough
for me to turn in my chip.

But I'm trying to avoid
guys like you these days.

What about guys like him?

His name's Peter Hill.

He was a regular here at
Sexoholics Anonymous.

How'd your prints wind up on his lighter?

I bummed a smoke off him last week.

I'm trying to quit that, too, but...

Body wants what it wants. Right, detective?

Right now, this body only wants an alibi.

I was upstate visiting my
sister until this morning.

- You can check with her.
- We will.

Anything else you can tell me about Peter?

He was a chef. Good one.

Always used to bring in the food he made.

Blue cheese puffs, some salmon croquettes.

You always knew it'd be a good
meeting if Peter was here.

You know what restaurant
Chef Peter worked at?

Allimond in meatpacking.

J.T. Thompson's place.

I'll let you know if we need more info.

Don't you at least wanna frisk me?

Thank you for your time.
I've been enlightened

in more ways than you can describe.

And please don't describe anymore.

No, no. No, no, no!

You're doing that wrong.
You stand over here.

This has gotta be exactly like that, okay?

- All of them.
- J.T. Thompson.

We're here to speak to you.

Can this wait? We open in 20 minutes.

Actually, it can't.

Fine. This way.

Julia. H. Child.

This is not a brunoise.

Start over.

You're coming at a really bad time, okay?

I'm trying to introduce my winter menu,

my freezer broke last night

and my sous-chef, Peter, is MIA.

Well, that's what we're here...

Oh, why so sad, babe? It's perfect.

Uh, Carmen's my wife.

It's, it's fine, you know?

Not like a hostile work
environment. You were saying?

Peter's not coming in to work.

His body was discovered by
sanitation workers this morning.

The trucks that they found him in

pick up the trash right out
front of your restaurant.

- Oh, my God. That's horrible.
- What happened?

That's what we're trying to find out...

Oh, finally.

We called you hours ago!

You know, I've got thousands
of dollars worth of inventory

rotting in that freezer. Over there!

How have you kept your food
cold with a broken freezer?

We brought in 200 pounds
of dry ice last night.

Peter died of carbon dioxide poisoning.

Dry ice is frozen carbon dioxide.

Oh, look who paid attention in chemistry.

Oh, serious crush on my teacher, Mr. Brewer.

That man knew his way around a Bunsen
burner, if you know what I mean.

No, I don't.

Look at this.

Peter fought like hell to get out.

And...

If someone locked this from the
outside in a space that small,

- they would have died within minutes.
- Okay.

Attention, everyone!

Knives down!

We need you out of the kitchen.

What? No.

- You can't do this.
- Yes, we can.

This restaurant is closed until
Crime Scene has a chance

to process this area for evidence.

Cooperate and we'll be out
of here in a few hours.

Get in our way, and everyone
from Anthony Bourdain to Zagat

will know what happened in your kitchen.

Fine.

Tell us about last night.

We closed as soon
the freezer went down.

I couldn't have people opening
and closing the door all night.

Where was Peter?

He stayed to supervise the dry
ice delivery and then lock up.

What about you?

Uh, well, J.T. and I drove home together,

we relieved the nanny, we tucked
the kids in and we went to bed.

Peter didn't clock out.

Neither did Tony Abbott. Who's that?

One of my line cooks.

Get him back down here.

Tony didn't come in to work today,

and he's not answering his phone.

So, Meredith is on her way to the restaurant

to interview the rest of the staff.

And Max was able to triangulate

Tony's exact position using
GSM cell localization.

For those of us who don't
speak techno babble?

He's over there.

Just park behind him.

Uh, where's he going?

How the hell did he make us?

Doesn't this thing go any faster?

Volvos were built for safety.
They got five star rating.

All right, all right, this
ain't a test drive, just go!

- Stop sign.
- No, no, no, no, no!

Don't stop. Go, go, go!

I do not like running stop signs.

Laura, our suspect's
getting away in a damn food truck.

Fair enough. Hold on!

That's Swedish engineering for you.

Are you nuts?

Lady, look at what you did to my truck!

- Give me your license and registration.
- Excuse me?

Why do I need to show that to you?

Because, let's see... You hit me!

Now give me your information
before I call the damn cops.

I am the "damn cops."

Oh, right. In a crappy old Volvo?

It got a five star rating!

Afternoon, officers.

- Detectives.
- Oh, detectives?

Why'd you run me off the road, detectives?

Why'd you run from us?

I didn't. I was late for
my other job at Allimond

and later now, thanks to the both of you.

How could you not hear the sirens?

Because I had my tunes on.

"Blitzkrieg Bop"?

The Ramones are the only decent
thing ever to come out of Forest Hills.

Now, if this is about my permit...

This is about Peter Hill.

He was murdered last night.

Wait. What? That's horrible.

I just saw him at work.

Then you were the last
person to see him alive.

Did you two get into some kind of fight?

No, no. Peter was my boy.

I, I didn't even stay till the
end of my shift last night.

You didn't clock out.

Listen, Peter said he'd do it for me.

Let me go early so I can
make a little extra money

bringing my truck to the Hunting Party.

- Dance club in Brooklyn.
- Nothing like hungry club kids

full of booze and disposable income,

you know what I mean?

I've got my receipts if
you guys wanna see 'em.

Are we good here? 'Cause I need
to make it to the restaurant

before J.T. cans my ass.

Go.

The next time I catch you
driving with your tunes in...

You'll do what? Smash
the inside of my vehicle?

If you think of anything
else, give me a call.

Sure thing, detective.

- What?
- Nothin'.

Yeah, that's right. "Nothin'."

Mr. Food Truck didn't do it.

And no one at Sexoholics Anonymous
had anything useful to add,

other than one gentleman sharing
that orgasm is a state of mind.

I respectfully disagree.

Yes, well, we know that
you have a Ph.D. in orgasm.

Oh, I have a little something for you.

Oh?

My cable company overcharged me again,

someone needs to get on the
phone with customer service.

Loser!

Please tell me that you have
something from the restaurant staff.

General consensus is that
Peter was well-liked and talented.

He helped people find jobs, get green cards.

- A real do-gooder.
- Okay, well, there had to be someone

at the restaurant who
didn't get along with him.

That would be J.T. thompson.

They had a big dust up when Peter tried
to change a dish on the new menu.

- And then recently...
- Hey, Laura?

- Yeah?
- You have a package with a nice package.

Oh, hey!

Mr. Food Truck.

Hey, it's Danica Patrick.

I hope I'm not interrupting anything.

- You are.
- Not at all.

Uh...

Uh, what brings you down here, Mr. Abbott?

Tony. I wanted to apologize.

After you banged into my truck...

I might have got a little, you know...

- Loud, pushy, rude?
- Yeah.

But I, you know, I wanted to assure you

that I've got a lot of
respect for the police.

My Uncle was a cop back in the day.

I...

What's that?

I just made you a little something.

It's a willamette raspberry tart

with lemon verbena custard

and a brown butter molasses crust.

Wow.

Apology accepted.

Can we get back to work now?

Yeah, sure. I'll get out of your way.

Hey, um, if I could ask,
before you leave,

how you get your crust to brown so evenly?

I'm gonna bake for my
twister night at my co-op.

So, one of the waiters said

J.T. was arguing with Peter

about the tablecloths J.T. wanted to use.

The white ones they were putting out today?

No. Said they were red.

Well, we found red fibers
all over Peter's clothes.

And when I was leaving, J.T. was
readying a bag to take to their laundry.

Well, that seems way below his pay grade.

Excuse me, dessert genius.

Did J.T. usually handle laundry?

No. That's way below his pay grade.

That's what I just said.

- Nice.
- We gotta find that bag.

So, where's the bag that was
dropped off from the Allimond?

- On its way to the boiler room.
- Where's that?

Oh, man, bag's on the move.

Excuse me, excuse me.

Come on, man.

Look out! Move, move, move!

One of your new tablecloths
was covered in Peter's DNA.

DNA you tried to hide by
taking it to the cleaners.

I don't know what you're talking about.

We have witnesses that can
place you at the laundromat.

And we know that you were
always fighting with Peter.

What happened? Too many
cooks in the kitchen?

Disagreements between a chef
and his sous are not uncommon.

I think something went down
between the two of you.

You got mad and you killed him and
then you threw his body in the trash.

Jury hears that theory

along with your suspicious trip
to the laundry, sees the DNA...

Game over.

Fine. I put Peter in the trash,

but he was dead when I found him.

If I had a nickel for every
time I heard that one.

It's the truth.

I went in to open up the restaurant.

I found him in the freezer,
stiff as a board,

I figured he locked himself
in there by accident.

And why didn't you call 911?

Well, there wasn't a hell of a lot

that anyone could've done
for him at that point.

You know, it is tough
enough owning a restaurant.

What do you think would happen if someone
found out that somebody died in there?

I could lose everything that
Carmen and I built up together.

He busted his ass for you,

what, 80, 90 hours a week in the kitchen?

You find him like that and you
just throw him in the trash?

What's wrong with you?

You're right.

He did deserve better than that.

He was talented, passionate.

He used to talk about opening
his own restaurant all the time.

Did Peter's passions get him in trouble

with anybody else besides you?

We know that he was getting
help for his sex addiction.

You know, a girlfriend of his
came into the kitchen once

screaming and yelling about how she
wanted him to give her her own space.

Do you remember her name?

No, but I can picture her.

She had bright, blue hair.

- We need to find Selena Barnes.
- On it.

- Nice boots.
- Right?

I sent Billy to the Bloomingdale
shoe sale for me.

God, I love this bet.

Hey, Carmen. Go Yanks.

It's gonna be hard to replace Jeter.

Oh.

No, I don't follow baseball.

I just haven't had my roots done,

and I was feeling self-conscious.

Ever since I had my twins I've
had to embrace my inner skunk.

Well, if you think the hair is tough,

try keeping your nails nice
between pastry and play-doh.

Try not chipping a nail while
shooting a glock at the gun range.

Your husband insists he's innocent.

Because he is.

How can you be so sure?

A woman knows her man.
J.T. would never kill anyone.

And anyway, he couldn't have.

He was home, asleep with me when Peter died.

- We can go now.
- Stay close.

If the D.A.'s office thinks
you're not cooperating,

they're gonna charge you with
felony concealment of a death.

- Got the work address.
- Okay.

Go have a talk with our
blue-haired sex addict.

"How about a follow-up chat over dinner?"

"I'm cooking. Tony."

- Two words. Oh, my God. Cute.
- It's nothing.

He's a chef. He likes to cook.

I like to eat.

- I'm... in.
- Prolific.

My place, tonight.

Your place. That is a really bold move.

Hoochie mama.

The boys are gonna be at my dad's.

I've got the house to myself.

If Tony wants a date, he can come to me.

- Oh, my God. I have a date.
- Yes!

You have a date, and it is about time, okay?

You are single, he's interested.

It is time for you to carpe the diem.

You're right. I have a date!

You have a date!

Selena?

Couldn't stop thinking about me?

We have more questions for you.

I already told you. I was with
my sister when Peter died.

Yeah, but you didn't tell
us you were dating him.

I was ashamed.

Our relationship violated
about half of the 12 Steps.

Shh.

When we first met, Peter
was sweet and attentive

and the things he could do with...

All right, all right, we get it.

Shh.

After a while
he began to get clingy.

I shouldn't have been surprised.

God knows I heard about his
issues during our S.A. meetings.

There was the girlfriend who he moved
cross-country for after two weeks.

And then the girlfriend who filed
a restraining order against him.

How about with you?

Peter started calling me
sometimes 10, 20 times a day.

I finally had to tell him we
had to stop seeing each other.

- How'd he take it?
- Hard, at first,

but eventually, he got over it.

- I really have to go.
- All right.

You know what?

Maybe Peter did, in fact, get over Selena.

Maybe he found someone else to obsess over.

Someone less understanding.

- Shh.
- All right, all right. That's it.

Do you have supersonic hearing?

You're not even reading!

Our victim had an infatuation
problem with his sexoholic ex.

I bet that happens all the time.

What the hell?

I have been standing all day.
My dogs are killing me.

And as winner of the bet,
your desk is my desk.

Well, as winner of the bet

how about a little foot massage?

Wow. Even a sore winner
like me wouldn't ask for that.

Why not? I'm supposed to
cater to your every need.

You're right!

Have at it, maestro.

Oh!

Oh!

Gosh. You were always really good at this.

I think I did this every day
that you were pregnant.

In other words, every
day I was lugging around

two bowling ball-sized
fetuses you planted in me.

Over to the left, to the left.

Oh, oh. Yeah, that's the stuff.

I see you filed a subpoena
to get Peter's phone records.

We're looking for any
other women in his life.

Maybe one of them was willing to go to more
extreme measures to break up with him?

Oh!

I think I'm gonna call it a day.

Oh, what's the rush?

Isn't tonight the big sleepover

with the twins and Grandpa Leo?

'Tis.

So you're off duty all night.

Actually, I have plans.

I promised my DVR that there would
be some serious binge-watching.

I don't want to let it down. Nice
work! Same time tomorrow?

Anytime.

This week, of course.

I wouldn't shake hands
with him unless he Purells.

Were you just giving Laura a foot massage?

That information does not leave this room.

This whole bet thing has gone way too far.

We're gonna put an end to this, right?

- Wrong.
- Wrong?

- Wrong.
- Wrong?

Soto, we are men of our word.

You like this.

Let's just say, a week of
taking care of Laura...

isn't that bad.

So do you meet all your dates on high
speed chases through Greenwich Village?

Every one.

There was this one time that I hit it
off with this really cute bank robber,

in a hostage standoff, but,

I had to shoot him so it didn't go anywhere.

- My mother warned me about girls like you.
- Oh, yeah?

- People that shoot people are not nice people.

Mmm.

Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.

Try this.

Wow!

- Wow.
- Right.

Yes.

- Mmm.
- Now, can you pass me that bottle?

What is that?

It's a puree of aphrodisiac.

Ghost pepper extract.

Well, don't be shy with that stuff.

I like it hot.

A few drops is all you need, unless you want
to spend the night in the emergency room.

- Oh, this meal was good it should be illegal.
- Mmm.

Bring on the handcuffs.

Baker, chef.

What don't you do?

Not much.

I mean, I'll do pretty
much anything you wanna do.

Well, I think you have a
future in this food thing.

Mmm? Is that right?

A few more years in J.T.'s kitchen

and I bet you're gonna be calling the shots.

Not interested.

You know, I'm actually only part time
at the restaurant. In my heart...

I'm just a guy with a food truck.

You're pretty good at this too.

Hey, you're not so bad yourself.

Laura?

This is not happening.

Jake...

Tony.

What were you thinking?

Not that you'd be attached to
some guy's face when I walked in.

I am in the middle of my
first date since our divorce,

and you happened to waltz in?

Unannounced!

- You're supposed to be binging.
- I was binging!

I had an amazing time.

And I can't wait to see you again.

But you two obviously have
something you need to work out...

No! We have absolutely nothing to work out.

Goodnight, Laura.

I didn't know you had plans. How could I?

Oh! So you figured you would
just let yourself into my house?

I let myself in all the time!
I have a spare key.

The spare key is for child
care and emergencies.

Come to take the kids to school, approved.

Come with pizza and beer at 10:00
at night when you think I'm alone?

Not approved!

We caught a break in the case,
I thought you'd want to see it.

I know how you binge,

two episodes in and you're
jonesing for carbs, so...

I went and I got your favorite
pie at Louie and Ernie's.

You drove all the way to the Bronx?

I thought it could be like old times.

Old times are old.

You told me the kids were away for
the night, you let me rub your feet.

For a guy, that's like
giving him a green light.

Oh, so now, this is my fault?

I made a big mistake.

What's in the file?

It's Peter's phone records.

No calls to a new girlfriend
but lots to a Trent Hawthorne,

he's a major pot grower on Long Island.

For a while, he supplied half of
Manhattan with high grade kush.

J.T. said that Peter was always talking
about opening his own restaurant.

Maybe he found a way to finance
his dream by dealing drugs.

And in the process,
pissed off the wrong guy.

Billy and Meredith are coordinating a raid

tomorrow morning on
Hawthorne's property to find out.

I should leave.

Someone's pulling up.

What have we got?

Hawthorne. Looks as mean as his rep.

And he's got muscle with him.

Yeah, so do we. Move in.

Ten-four.

- Police, don't move!
- Hands where we can see 'em!

All right, hands up!

Where are the drugs?

Guys, you've got it all wrong.

You should be tasting almond, cocoa
and just a hint of sandalwood.

- This is excellent.
- Thanks.

We roast the beans here ourselves.

What happened to the marijuana?

A year ago, I had a realization.

The illegal pot business is
simply not sustainable.

The future is organic.

Hop shoots.

Hipsters pay 600 bucks
a pound for this stuff.

- Now that's criminal.
- That's Brooklyn.

All right. Where were you three nights ago?

- Here with Millie.
- Okay, we're gonna need a last name.

Millie's the sow you met.

Poor thing broke through
the gate, needed stitches.

Our vet, Dr. Ritchie, can verify everything.

From drug kingpin to pig nurse.

Can't wait for you to hand in this report.

How can I help you?

Besides sending you back to town
with some fantastic lollipop kale.

Why were you on the phone for
so many hours with Peter Hill?

Peter and I were going
into business together.

- The food business.
- Mmm.

We met at the Union Square Green Market.

He bought some 'shrooms from me.

Chanterelles.

Returned the next week with
some ravioli he made with them

the guy had some serious skills.

So he asked you to go in
with him on a restaurant?

A whole farm and a table thing.
He had it all planned out.

Where'd you get the money from?

Peter had a bunch of cash saved up,

but needed someone to get
him the rest of the way.

So you are his partner?

Until a couple weeks ago.

Peter suddenly pulled out.

Gave me back every cent of my investment.

Peter sharing the money, how
much are we talking about?

100 grand.

That makes no sense.

We checked Peter's bank records.

He never had more than $3000 in his account.

You always did put too much in.

No, I put just the right amount.

Did you have something to add?

I should have called first last night.

And I should have been more upfront

about my plans even though
it's none of your business.

I will take a little credit for

trying to do something
to heal our relationship.

Jake, you can't fix what's broken
in our relationship with a pizza.

Look, if you really want to
make it better between us,

stop thinking about how
to make yourself look good

and start thinking about
why I was so unhappy

that I chose to become a single mother.

Roger that.

What do you got?

Well, I know that beige is not
my color, totally washes me out.

- About the case.
- Only that Peter Hill was a busy little banker.

Kept a second account under a business
name, recently withdrew $100,000 from it.

Exactly the amount he was
going to invest in the restaurant.

Totes. And look here,

- I found an odd little pattern.
- Go on.

Every week, Peter would pay for dinner
at a local restaurant with his debit card

and the next day that amount plus
$500 would be credited to his account.

So $117 debit, $617 credit.

$238 debit, $738 credit.

Okay stop, I don't do math.

Always an extra $500 and always
from the same PayPal account.

So J.T. was paying Peter
to spy on the competition?

No, the money came from...

Wait for it...

Judith Hansen.

Who's that?

Award-winning restaurant critic and the
most trusted voice in American gastronomy

- I'm really upset you don't know that.
- Sorry.

So, did you cross reference
Peter's account against

the restaurants that
Judith was going to review?

Yup. Perfect matcheroo.

So, Judith was paying Peter to eat at the
restaurants she was about to review.

Foodie scandal of the year. Mario
Batali would bust his clogs over this.

There are only two plausible explanations,

Peter was her writer...

Or her taster.

And you don't hire a
chef to do your writing.

Why would the most famous food critic
in New York need a ghost taster?

Maybe she lost her sense of taste.

It happened to my cousin Bruce. Everything
he eats tastes like Elmer's glue.

Oh, that was like me in third
grade. Only that was Elmer's glue.

Uh-huh.

Someone in Judith's
position might do anything

to keep a secret like that from getting out.

Perhaps even kill the man who knew.

Foodie fetish...

Just spotted Judith Hansen

walking into Rocco
Dispirito's new restaurant,

- which I hear is amazeballs.
- Go.

See if you can catch Judith in the act.

Moi, really? Avec vous?

Oh! Non, non.

I've go to re-open the Mac and
Cheese Cafe for the two regulars.

- Take Meredith.
- Meredith doesn't do foodie.

You're foodie enough for the both of you.

That's true. But how are we going
to know if the critic can taste?

I've got just the thing.

So hard to get a table around here,

you're okay with going sharesies, right?

Undercover matter.

- I'd actually prefer it if...
- Thank you.

You are such a doll.

So, what's good here?

You can find out when you read my review.

And here we go. Your next course.

What do we have here, Rocco?

Wild Dakota squab, sauce aux poivres,

mama's potatoes with Rosemary.
And, uh, anything for your guests?

- No, they're just leaving.
- Okay...

I'll have a trout, I'll have a penne and
I'll have an artichoke for the table,

and I wouldn't turn down a bellini.

I bet you wouldn't. Excuse me.

You are not gonna eat all of
this on your own, are you?

Wow, this place is such a scene. Hey!

- Isn't that Padma Lakshmi?
- Where?

She's about yea-high. She's right there.

Yeah, wait, isn't that her?

- With the dark hair?
- Oh, my bad.

- Just a woman.
- Mmm...

Here, you have to try this. So good.

You're right.

They are nice.

There's something so
aromatic, so pungent in there,

I can't put my finger on it.

Do you know what it is I'm tasting?

- No.
- Really?

- Really.
- Really?

- Wait, that can't be.
- Wait, don't!

Mmm!

Oh, my God. Oh, my God. Oh, my God!

Problem with your taste buds, Judy?

What is this about?

That's ghost pepper extract.

Peter knew you couldn't taste

and was extorting you because of it.

Sounds like a motive for murder to me.

You're coming with us.

Water, can I please have some water?

Ugh.

Stand, please.

Ooh.

Peter's financial records. Look
at all of that money coming in

- from you.
- So?

Peter must have known your secret.

Were you sick of paying his extortion money?

Or did you kill him for spilling the beans?

It's true.

I have lost my ability to taste.

It's a side effect of the medication I'm on.

How did Peter find out?

When I went to review A La
Monde, I ordered the branzino.

As I took my first bite, Peter ran out of
the kitchen and tried to take it back.

Why would he do that?

He realized that one of his line cooks had
accidentally seasoned the fish with sugar,

instead of salt.

I told him the fish was perfect.

And he figured out you
couldn't tell the difference.

Peter came to my office the next day,

threatened to go public if I
didn't resign from the paper.

- So he was blackmailing you?
- No.

Peter was a purist.

He believed in the integrity of food.

I suggested a plan that
would be mutually beneficial.

Hired him as my personal taster.

He'd make extra money to
put towards his restaurant,

and the reviews you wrote would be
based on real experience with the food.

He saved my career,

helped me make my deadline every
week. Why would I kill him?

Please, you...

You can't tell anyone about this.

I'm Judith Hansen.

Do you know what Peter did
with the money you gave him?

It's not on his accounts.

I assume he used it to buy his restaurant.

He told me he found the perfect spot at
the corner of Houston and Macdougal.

He backed out of his deal
with Trent Hawthornee.

He must've found a new partner.

Sorry to hear about Peter.

He was a nice guy. Closed
escrow just last week.

We are going to need to see in this place.

Wait a minute. Did you just say
Peter bought this restaurant?

No, Peter was planning on buying this space,

but he changed his mind
about a different unit instead.

An apartment?

Peter started moving things in the
second the papers were signed.

Why is there a crib?

Peter said he and his girlfriend
were expecting their first baby.

He was beyond excited.

Looks like Peter exchanged a
business partner for a life partner.

Maybe food truck Tony knows.

We asked him about Peter's enemies,
but not about Peter's friends.

Nah, Peter never mentioned
anything about a girlfriend,

let alone a baby.

Well, you worked side by side. Do you
remember him saying anything about

any women? Former fiance, casual fling...

Mmm. We talked about a lot
of things in the kitchen.

It was mostly about J.T. being a raging
egomaniac, but this I can't help you.

It's worth a shot.

Hey, the trip's not a total loss.

At least, I got to see you again.

Your ex doesn't know you're here, does he?

- Sorry again about that.
- Hmm.

- He won't be a problem, promise.
- Hmm.

- Never been in one of these before.
- Is that right?

Well, let me give you the tour.

Oven, stove, fridge.

Hey, where are my manners, are you hungry?

If you're cooking, definitely.

Oh, I...

- I thought that you were going to feed me.
- Oh, I am.

Specialty of the house.

Molten chocolate cake,

with vanilla bourbon creme anglaise.

Freshly made, of course.

It's getting...

It's getting hot in here.

- Mmm.
- The oven must be on.

Oven isn't on.

Fine, it's on.

I just wanted to take the credit.

You got something on your lip.

- Where?
- Here, let me get it.

That's the best dessert I have
ever had in my entire life.

Mmm, well the secret is farm fresh eggs.

Even I knew that and I make
pancakes out of a can.

That's terrible.

I took a case of these amazing
heirloom eggs from the restaurant

when Carmen switched to pasteurized eggs.

Her loss, our gain, right?

Do I have anything else on my lip?

- Mmm, no.
- No?

Mmm-mmm.

- How about now?
- Mmm-hmm.

- Ow, that is hot!
- Oh, sorry.

Wait, uh, wait a minute.

You said,

- Carmen switched to pasteurized eggs?
- Yeah.

Yeah, no idea what that was all about.

I think I do.

And I think I need to go.

- No. No. No...
- Oh, yeah.

Stay.

I wish. I wish I could.

But I've got a killer I've got to arrest.

Table three is still waiting.
Who's got table three?

What are you doing with that
veal? What are you doing?

Heads up. One minute for the hazelnut.

Excuse me, we are right in the middle
of service, you cannot be back here.

Oh, don't worry, I'm just
getting something to go.

Your new menu seems to be a hit.

- Congratulations.
- None for me, thank you.

My bad.

'Course you're not drinking
'cause of the baby.

Which also explains the brand new kicks.

Extra wide to help with the
swollen feet and ankles.

Stopped dying your hair.

I have nothing to say to you, please leave.

You're eight, nine weeks pregnant at most,

and I'm guessing

the father is not in this room.

And the DNA test will prove that.

You switched to pasteurized eggs

to avoid the risk of salmonella.

Even showing classic signs of food aversion.

When I was preggers it was peanut butter.

Gagged every time I got near the stuff.

I'm sorry.

Look, I was lonely.

J.T.'s first love is this restaurant.
What was I supposed to do?

And Peter was more than happy
to shower me with attention.

It was addictive.

Until he became addicted to you.

You told him that you were
pregnant with his baby.

Figuring it would scare him away and you
could just let J.T. think that the child was his.

Instead, Peter bought a crib,

a changing table.

He was planning for your future.

Peter assumed that I would
just walk away from J.T.

and everything that we
built together, a family,

a business, a life.

Pastry and play-doh.

He wouldn't listen to reason.

He was threatening to tell J.T. everything.

When the freezer broke and
J.T. ordered the dry ice,

you saw your chance to solve your problem.

Snuck out of your house
after J.T. went to sleep,

and met Peter at the restaurant.

But instead of hooking up as usual

you locked him in the freezer

and watched him suffocate to death.

That's just cold.

Hey, hey!

What the hell is going on back here!

Not a good time to be holding this.

Carmen will explain it all to you later.

No more reservation for
tonight. Kitchen's closed.

I know someone who could cover.

Miss Black Jacket gets
the prawns, there you are.

Here you go. The best paella
you'll ever have in your life.

What will it be, darling?

Coming through.

NYPD coming through.

NYPD.

Ho-ho.

What will it be, detective?

How about another helping
of what I had before?

Oh.

I wish...

But thanks to you, I think
I'm going to be here a while.

Can I rain-check?

Deal.

I have a little something that will
tide you over in the meantime.

On the house.

Ah!

Yummy.

- Are you done here?
- Yup.

Carmen's on the way to the precinct.

Good. Because you

are coming to my place.

Really?

And why would I be doing that?

We are going to paint my kitchen and
watch season four of Downton Abbey.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no...

See, Laura told me

she called off the bet.

Not for you she didn't.

Oh, Meredith, come on,
let's be reasonable here.

Let's go. Lady Mary awaits.

Okay, anything but that.

Come on...

Congrats on closing the case.

Thanks.

Hey, I've been thinking about what you said.

And you're right.

There are no quick fixes, no magic pizzas,

to solve our problems.

I need to work on myself, before I can even

consider asking you to
give me a second chance.

Until then...

You deserve a little privacy.

Your spare key.

Really? I mean, what if
there's an emergency?

We're cops.

We'll figure it out.

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