Original subtitles

(upbeat music)

I'm so sorry, but could you please

stop taking selfies in here?

It's making people uncomfortable.

No, I'm not taking selfies.

I'm using my phone to spy on that guy in the corner.

Mm. That seems worse.

I'm totally taking selfies, 'cause I'm proud of my face

and I want my phone to see it.

It's a stakeout. The man's a thief.

And I have to prove it before he finishes

his pulled pork platter and leaves town forever.

Oh, okay.

Just please be subtle.

Sure, no problem. Subtle.

‐(camera clicks) ‐(shouts)

Oh. (groans)

(dramatic music)

Okay. (exhales)

‐Oh, shit. ‐What?

Guess who just walked in.

Heather Culbreth from lake patrol.

‐Oh, wow. ‐Location is clear, over.

(laughs) She says "over"

into her walkie‐talkie.

‐Can I ask you a question? ‐What? Sure.

‐It's a personal question. ‐Oh.

What is going on with you guys?

‐What? ‐You and Heather.

Nothing. Obviously nothing.

Uh, well, then why are we taking all these cases

down by the lake, huh?

The Mystery of the Capsized Canoe

and the Mystery of the Moldy Towels

and the Mystery of the so‐called

Sunken Treasure.

Yeah, uh, a city's waterfront is always a nexus of crime.

Come on, man, the last one

was you snorkeling down to get some kid's quarter

out of the mud‐‐ a quarter.

Just admit it, that you've been hoping to see her again

because you love her.

David, David, shh!

(sighs) Fine. You're right.

I have a thing for her.

So tell her, man. She's right there.

It wouldn't be appropriate.

I mean, I used to be her employer.

You were 13 years old back then, you dummy.

‐I just think ethically‐‐ ‐(groans)

Oh, my God. Hey, guys.

John, look who it is.

Look, it's Heather Culbreth in the Lunch Hut.

Yes, I can see that.

You know what, this calls for a celebration.

Oh.

Shall we feast from my horn of plenty?

‐(horn blares) ‐(yells)

‐Why do you have that? ‐Really, David?

I love to have fun and celebrate my friends.

‐Hi, Heather. ‐Hey.

So the Lunch Hut's still your spot, huh?

Uh, yeah. So what, uh, brings you here?

Advanced security for the commish.

‐(radio squawks) ‐GLEN: Culbreth.

Are we still clear? Over.

Yes, Glen, we're still clear. Over.

Does seem a little intense for the commissioner

of the Water and Sewer Authority.

Oh, you think?

(militaristic marching music)

♪♪ ♪♪

Ugh, no.

Take me to the President's Physician in New Downtown.

♪♪ ♪♪

(sighs) Welcome to my life.

‐(radio squawks) ‐GLEN: Culbreth.

We're wheels up for New Downtown. Over.

I'm gonna stay here

and do a post‐op sweep for bugs. Over.

GLEN: Copy that. Over and out.

Boom! I just bought myself two hours

of fucking‐around time.

‐Can I join you? ‐Um‐‐

‐Totally. ‐Sure.

See, look at this. Isn't this nice?

Three old friends, laughing and loving life

as only friends can.

‐Okay. ‐Sure, David.

They should make a show about friends.

Hey, Hunch, I saw you snorkeling

at the lake the other day.

You saw‐‐I‐‐ well, I didn't see you.

Well, actually, I only saw your calves

flopping above the surface.

They're unmistakable.

Well, I've gotten some compliments.

You know what, John? Here comes another compliment

because your calves are delectable,

and Heather, you are a good judge of sexy legs.

Thank you, David. That's enough.

Uh, I was on a case at the time, so yeah.

Just like we are on a case right now.

‐All right, David. ‐Wait, really?

Well, all right, let's not get into‐‐

‐It's a stakeout, Heather. ‐Ugh.

We're staking out Dr. Neckbeard McBeef Jerky Breath over there.

HEATHER: Mm. He is a jerk, and he's from South Carolina.

Well, obviously. ‐Uh, not‐viously.

What are you talking about?

HEATHER: First, he brings his own barbecue sauce

to the Lunch Hut, so he's an asshole.

Two, it's mustard‐based.

That's some South Carolina shit.

Damn, you're smart.

So what's the case?

Oh, well, my client‐‐

Our client. Let's remember.

It's our client.

The client has a collection of, um, vintage cars.

Ooh, fancy client.

‐Uh‐‐ ‐Congratulations.

Not really. The client is actually‐‐

It's confidential, David. That's‐‐

‐Oh, really? ‐Identity's confidential, yes.

Anyway, the prize of our client's collection

is a 1968 Dodge Custom Charger.

Wait, '68 Custom‐‐it better not be the General Lee.

No, no, no, no. This is a hot pink car.

Oh, that's actually quite rare.

Exactly.

The man in the corner is Ronald Pronk,

a car collector passing through town.

When he saw my client's Charger,

he noted a crack in the windshield,

and offered to restore it at his shop

in Charleston, for free.

That doesn't sound shady at all.

Yeah, well, my client is somewhat naive.

You might say he requires some schooling.

‐Okay, David. ‐You could say that.

Like additional grades of schooling‐‐

‐All right, David, enough. ‐Are required.

So Pronk took possession of the car,

and then let me guess, claimed someone stole it.

Sound familiar?

Amber Pulman's Pog collection, seventh grade.

(laughs) Oh, yeah!

I borrowed Amber's Pogs!

And then I sold them to Bucky Rindfuss.

And when Amber confronted me, I said they were stolen‐‐

‐BOTH: By a werewolf. ‐By a werewolf.

‐JOHN: Right. ‐"The perfect crime."

And it was, because it turns out

Amber was totally into werewolves,

and they turned her on.

So we went to Umstead Park on a werewolf hunt,

and we wound up making out by the light of a full moon.

‐(howls) ‐(clears throat)

But then she dumped me for Trip Kowalski

'cause he had a full beard in seventh grade,

and I was so pissed off,

I think that's why I beat both of you up

in Spanish class that one time.

(exhales) Friendship, nothing beats it.

Seventh grade was fun, right?

BOTH: No, it wasn't.

‐Yes, it was. ‐No.

‐I don't get it. ‐Yes, it was.

HEATHER: A stolen Charger isn't easy to hide.

Why is he still in town?

Pronk's arrogant.

He even offered to call the police himself,

but my client wants to keep things quiet

till I can prove that Pronk's story is bogus.

Got it. So what's his story?

JOHN: Pronk says he brought the Charger

back to his motel parking lot.

That's where he kept his own car, a Ford Focus.

Otherwise, the lot was empty.

No witnesses.

‐When was this? ‐5:20 p. m. yesterday.

Pronk was making his way to the lobby

when an unknown robber supposedly jumped out

from behind a bush.

Pronk says the guy pulled a gun,

grabbed the Charger, and took off.

DAVID: And then a giant serpent appeared.

‐JOHN: David, come on. ‐DAVID: And writhed around.

Did Pronk describe the carjacker?

Well, he...

Right. Big surprise.

What, he was wearing a little silver hat?

JOHN: Ugh. David.

Tell me about lighting conditions.

JOHN: Pronk says he couldn't see which way the robber went

because he was blinded by the evening sun

focused through the motel's glass bricks.

At 5:20 p. m.? This angle isn't right.

David, could you, uh, could you take a step back, please?

‐Ah, like this? ‐No, further, please.

‐Really? ‐Yeah. Go further away.

DAVID: All right.

JOHN: There it is, precisely.

DAVID: Um, I can't reach my disco fries now

because of this distance.

Okay, the light tracks,

but how do we know Pronk's telling the truth

about being in the lot at 5:20 p. m.?

Ah, because, according to the Richardsville

Birding Society,

that's when a large flock of starlings

was spotted flying directly over the motel.

They defecated everywhere.

Oh, shit. My phone.

And I can't reach my disco fries.

Does Pronk's car have bird crap on it?

Yes, it does. His Ford Focus is outside.

‐You can see for yourself. ‐HEATHER: Hmm.

And the splatter pattern is consistent

with an overhead bombing,

just like every space in motel parking lot.

‐I checked myself. ‐Okay, okay.

‐We'll get there. ‐DAVID: Alert!

Access to disco fries has been compromised.

Abort mission.

As you can see, he has matured a lot.

Be honest... how many times

have you stolen fries in your shorts,

or are you suddenly mad that you never thought of it?

‐Oh, zing! ‐Okay, this dynamic sucks.

Hey, David, instead of living with your parents,

why don't you just sleep in one of your shorts pockets?

(both laughing)

You know what, John?

‐You know what, buddy? ‐What?

Maybe Heather would be interested to know

some more facts about our client.

‐David, no. ‐Huh?

‐What facts? ‐You think?

David, please.

Heather, there is something I could tell you right now,

but because I have matured

and I actually am a very good friend,

I'm not going to.

(horn blares)

(customers groan)

CUSTOMER: Stop doing that!

What was that about?

Uh, who knows with that guy, right?

Oh, wait, damnit. He's my ride.

Don't worry. I have my work truck.

‐Oh. ‐Wait a sec, look.

Don't you see it?

Wait, what? See what?

The motel parking lot was empty?

Yeah, right, except for Pronk's Ford Focus.

And the starlings defecated

all over the lot in every space?

Yeah, every single space.

Looked like a bird poop Jackson Pollock.

Okay, think about the guano in the spaces

and the guano on the Focus.

Wait, the guano on the Focus.

Focus, Hunch.

There was guano on the Focus,

and in every space in the lot.

‐HEATHER: Mm‐hmm. ‐JOHN: Pronk's Ford Focus

couldn't have been there at 5:20 p. m.

HEATHER: Yeah.

JOHN: It would've acted as a guano shield.

We can't prove that birds didn't shit on Pronk's car.

But we can prove it didn't happen at 5:20

in the motel parking lot, which means...

BOTH: He's lying!

(exhales)

That was amazing.

Totally. (exhales)

Look at him gloat.

He doesn't even know we've got him.

It's good to see you at work again.

Oh, thanks, yeah.

Uh, you know, Heather,

I've spent the last, uh, few weeks‐‐

Lurking around me at the lake but avoiding all eye contact?

I hadn't noticed.

Sorry. It's just, um...

I'm‐‐I was embarrassed.

Why?

Well, you got out.

You went out into the world,

and I didn't.

Hunch...

I thought Dicktown was enough, you know?

But then I realized it's barely anything.

No, Hunch. Take it from me.

The world is just different Dicktowns

full of different dicks.

Besides, how bad can this town be?

‐I came back. ‐Yeah. No, you did.

Uh, okay, Heather, uh...

I'm sort of in love with you.

Never detected that? (laughs)

Detected that.

Target's on the move.

JOHN: What? Oh.

Should we confront him together,

like in the old days?

Um, why don't you go?

I'll sit here and back you up.

Copy that.

But wait a minute, a 1968 Dodge Charger

in hot pink?

RONALD: Hey, get away from me, brigand.

Dodge didn't make a pink Charger till 1970.

How do you steal a pink Charger

that doesn't even exist unless‐‐

(gasps)

Help! David, where are you?

(grunting)

Oh, wow, you found my car.

It's about time, you old weirdo.

Peace out. I'll cass‐ap you.

HEATHER: (exhales) 1968 hot pink Charger,

one of the rarest Hot Wheels on the market.

Yeah, it's very valuable.

That's why Pronk tried to steal it.

The point is that it's a toy, Hunch.

You're still working for children.

Well, mostly teenagers,

and they are extremely mature. I mean‐‐

How have you not been arrested yet?

(sighs) Honestly, I'm not sure.

That's what you should be embarrassed about, Hunch,

not that you haven't left home,

that you haven't grown up.

Well, now that's not true, I have business cards.

‐I have to go. ‐Wait! Heather.

Can I still get a ride?

(bittersweet music)

♪♪ ♪♪