All language subtitles for Grimsburg.S01E06.PROPER.1080p.WEB.h264-EDITH_eng

- How come we never
catch killers

in someplace pretty,

like a rustic apple orchard

or the butterfly exhibit
at the arboretum?

- Summers, please.

This isn't the time
for mindless chitchat.

Save it
for the office party tonight.

You are coming, right?

- I can't wait!

Some say office parties
are where

many an office romance is born.

- Could you talk
about this later?

- Wuh-uh...

Summers, do you have
a work crush?

Okay, okay, let me guess.
Uh, the chief.

The maintenance lady
who changes our water cooler.

Kang?

- That's okay, Summers.
Happens all the time.

Men, women, Siri...
- I didn't get that.

Would you mind repeating,
perhaps over dinner?

- No, I meant Wynona!

I talk about her all the time.

- I've never heard you say
one word about her to me.

- He actually mentioned her
when you guys first came in,

when you promised
to get me out of here alive.

- Okay, okay, I get it.
You like living.

You two are coming, right?

- Why?
It's always the same.

You get drunk, you try
to make out with the keg tap,

and then you AirDrop
your dude nudes

to the entire office.

Last time, you ended up
arresting yourself

for indecent exposure.

- Well, sounds like
I caught the guy

and won the party,

just like I do every year,

because that's
what the big dogs do.

We...

win.

- Win.

What's everyone wearing
tonight?

- Um, could someone
please get me out of here?

- Please tell me
she's not invited.

Oh...

- This is so awesome,
Mr. Flesh.

My dad's bringing me
to hang out

with his work friends.

- Yep, this is how it starts!

Respect, hugs with both arms,
your first beer,

then the cover
of "Good Dad-Having" magazine!

- I guess he finally doesn't
see me as a baby anymore.

- Sorry, couldn't get
a babysitter for Stan,

my baby who needs a babysitter
'cause he's a baby.

- Great.
We're all here.

Now we can get started.

- Wow, looks like Wayne Manor
threw up.

- Hello, Kang.
You look... puffy, as always.

- I've never understood
why we work

with a convicted criminal.

- Allegedly.

- Not allegedly.
You were convicted.

- So they say.

- That's the same thing
as "allegedly."

- Presumably.

Oh, scoops!

- So whose mansion is this,
anyway?

- It's mine.

And it's not
just a mansion.

It's also a train.

Welcome to...
my train-sion.

- I'm Alistair Chudwell.

You may know me
as the Sultan of Splurt,

and I--

Ah, the top of the hour.

You see, I became
chemically dependent

on my energy drinks

after giving up water
in the '90s.

My doctor says
I now need one an hour,

or I'll die.

Which is how we can legally say
Splurt is doctor-recommended.

- I can't stand that guy.

My cousin got addicted
to Splurt,

and his heart exploded,

along with the rest
of his body.

He... tried to tackle
a FedEx truck.

- I heard he has a secret tank

where he keeps his own
"Shape of Water" sexy fish-guy,

and he won't let me see it!

- Now, contrary
to what the poor

would like you to believe,
money can buy happiness.

It's allowed me the chance
to live out

all of my wildest fantasies.

Just last week,
I paid a hefty sum

to have a three-panel
"Garfield" cartoon

reenacted for me.

My scientists engineered
a talking cat,

and I was able
to get Paul Giamatti

to play Jon Arbuckle.

He was fair.

I think he may have been
doing it for the money.

You never get used to it.

But a few bumps
are a small price to pay

to drive your choo-choo house
around town.

- Alistair crafted
a murder mystery party

so challenging
that if we solve it,

he'll give the department
a million dollars,

and that's one of my favorite
numbers of dollars.

- I'm Howard...
LaHubastank.

devoted husband
to Ruth LaHubastank.

- Oh, that's me. I'm Ruth.
- Mm...

- I'm in a marriage
of practical convenience

and nothing more.

Whatever tiny spark
was once there

died many years ago.

- Well, still your husband.

- Aren't you gonna be
a character, too,

Mr. Chudwell?

- Oh, I am.
I'm Oliver Bricklet,

a poor millionaire for whom
money is still an object.

I only have a private jet

because I can't afford
to fly to space.

Can you imagine?

And you are...

- I'm the detective!

- Okay, nobody's gonna believe
you as a detective.

We should switch.
You can be Curd,

a newsie
with aggressive scoliosis.

- Ah-ah, you must play
the card you were dealt.

Fine. I sell my papes,

but I ain't gonna like it,
mister.

Ugh, you know what?

I'm not gonna physically
hunch over.

That might be in poor taste,

but I will let my weird back
inform my performance.

- Did someone say
"performance"?

That's my speciality.

I'm Gerta Gibbly,
stunning film starlet

known for her romantic talkies

and her birdlike wrists.

- I'm
Kitty von Killedherhusband.

- Tiny Timmy Oversocks.

- And I am
Baroness Anna Dijonaise,

the first opera singer and...

♪ Astronaut ♪

- Well, now that we're all--
ring, ring.

Ring, ring?
The telephone, at this hour?

I guess I'll go answer it,

in the parlor,

alone.

Ugh. Let me guess.

Lights go off, we hear a scream
from the other room,

lights back on,
there's been a murder.

- That was easy.

Oh, wait, it's a game.

- Okay, fellow party guests...

slash suspects.

I hope you each have
a good alibi

as we embark
on a long, twisty night--

- Already got it.

Couldn't be Gerta,
with her birdlike wrists,

or Kitty, who was being
hawkishly watched

by the baby detective.

Meanwhile, Ruth LaHubastank
was too concerned

with her boring love life
with Howard,

a man who we all know has
the sexual power of an ottoman,

and last I checked,
outside the empire,

ottomans can't kill.

- We're still talking
about the character, right?

- Which leaves
Tiny Timmy Oversocks,

whose little sailor fancy bow
had me wondering

how a child could be this fancy

unless he was the bastard child
of a poor millionaire

and here to take
his revenge on Daddy.

Show me Tiny Timmy Oversocks!

You are...

Incorrect.
- What?

- This is it,
Stanatha Christie.

Time to give your father
something he can brag about

other than your incredibly low
birth weight.

- Um, I might have a guess.

- Stan, please.

Now, I think it might be
a misprint and--

- I think
it's Baroness Anna Dijonaise.

Her initials are B-A-D,

so maybe she's the bad guy?

Extry, extry.

Baby detective whiffs it
big-time!

You know, I decided
to go with the hunch.

I think it's just who Curd is.

- The detective is...

Correct.

- Wait, he was right?

Okay, is this a murder mystery

or a murder prank show?
Because--

well, actually,
that's a pretty good idea.

Is it a fake detective,
or are the bodies made of cake?

- Okay, Alistair,
love the commitment,

but you can get up now
and give us our cool million.

- Huh.

- Dad, what do we do?

- I'll tell you exactly
what we're going to do.

We're gonna stop playing
fake games

and start solving real murders,

because what you did
was a fluke,

and now it's time for a Flute.

Wait, is this a prank show?

Is this a camera knife?

Nope.
That's a murder knife.

- Nice job, everybody.
He's dead.

Now we're out a million bucks

and we gotta catch the killer
for free.

- Let's split into pairs
and find who did this.

I'll go with Pentos.

- I'll go with Wynona--

because my character
is your husband,

not because I love you
in real life.

Whew, that was close.

- And I'll take Stan
to show him

how a real detective does it

and also because he's my son.

- Well, Chief, I guess
that leaves you and me

to actually find the killer.

- No, we're gonna
find something

worth the million bucks
he promised us

in this train-sion.

- Okay, but I'm not sure

I'm comfortable with stealing,

or how everyone's acting

like "train-sion" is a word
all of a sudden.

- Pentos,
you're a rotten psychopath.

Where would you be hiding?

- Are we really doing this?

Yes, I'm a criminal,

but I've helped Flute
catch other criminals,

and frankly,
after working with him,

I deserve a statue.

Flute's not
the easiest guy to work with.

- Right?
I mean, he's always asking

to borrow a pen.

It's like, here's a thought.

What if you just had a pen?

- And he's always like,

"I solved it
with my crime mind."

Oh, you mean you thought
about clues with your brain?

That's called
being a detective.

- I know!
- He's so proud of it.

Uh, we should,
uh, probably get back to it.

- Or...

- Hey, maybe
there's a secret door

behind this painting of a door.

Son, if being
a detective was that easy,

I'd be out of a jo--

- It's locked.
There's a keypad,

but we don't know the code.

- Well, what
your soft child brain

hasn't yet comprehended

is that the clock on the mantel
is set to 10:51.

That's the same year
they invented the chandelier,

and that chandelier
has nine light bulbs,

all 60-watt.

So if we do the math,

9 times 60 plus 1051--

- One, two, three.

Being a detective is so easy!

- Uh, actually, it's not easy.

Otherwise, why would they
pay me a decent salary

to do it?
Way more than you make.

Wait, you don't get paid
to go to school, right?

- All he had in there
was this vase

and a hard drive full of NFTs.

I ain't got time
for fake nerd money.

Hey, have you noticed
these rooms are getting...

very weird?

- Wait a minute.

Can it be?

- Oh, he's beautiful!

- Because of all the money

we're gonna make
when we sell him?

- Something like that.

- I cannot believe we have

the same
favorite constellation!

Zeus' inseam.

- I know, right?
Favorite type of music?

both: Progressive ska.

- Favorite character actress.

both: Dianne Wiest.

- Oh, oh,
favorite YouTube category.

both: Trucks going under
bridges that are too small.

Ah.

- You see anything?

- Nope, no killers in here.

You know, we actually make
pretty good partners.

Flute better watch out.

Whoa!

I've never noticed
your eyes before.

- Overheated.
Fan activated.

- Oh, it just does that.

You know, like on your laptop

when you run
too many apps at once

while a lifelong dream
is coming true.

- It's so nice
to just get out of that morgue.

I've been in there
so much lately,

I was ready to kill somebody.

- "Kill somebody," you say?

The idea of digging around
in dead bodies

has to get to you.

- Eh, dead bodies
don't bother me.

It's the alive people
who come in

because they just
"have to identify them."

Ugh, sometimes I wish
they were all dead.

- Now activating
pants cleanup.

- Look how proud
your pops is.

He can't take his eyes off you.

- You know who did it,
don't you?

- I mean...
- Well, you know what?

That's great.

You're my son,
so I'm not jealous.

I'm proud.
You've eclipsed me.

It happens with all
the great father-son duos.

Martin and Charlie Sheen,

Dale and Dale Jr.,

Tom and Chet Hanks.

So... so...

so, so proud.

- We didn't find anybody.

- Yeah, we didn't see
anything weird or disturbing.

At all.
- I know who the killer is.

It was actually quite simple.

You just needed to attend
to the more subtle clues.

Because I can now tell you
without a doubt

that Alistair Chudwell's
murderer is...

no, where is it?

Where's the--oh.
Come on. Come on.

- Dad? Is that my notebook?

- You stole
your son's notebook?

- Well, yes, but only
because I thought

he had the answer and I didn't.

And all I see
is random observations

and manga drawings of me.

Wow, you know,
I look pretty cool

with big eyes and cat ears.

- How could you do that, Dad?

- Well, I don't think
this train-sion

is big enough
to unpack all that,

so let's return our attention
to the murder.

If none of us
found the killer,

then that means...

- The killer is one of us!

- All right, let's--
let's back it up.

- Yeah, yeah.
- That was close, yeah.

- The big dog is upstaged
and unwanted.

What am I,
the DC Comics Universe?

- One of us is a killer,

and we can't go home
until we figure out who.

- Oh, and I'm also
a sack of crap.

A big one too: Sam's size.

I won't do Costco 'cause I've
been burned too many times,

which is probably
why they told me not

to cook my own samples.

- I find it very hard
to believe

that anyone in my department
could kill someone,

so I'd say Wynona
probably did it.

She spends all day hanging out
with dead bodies.

I once walked in on her
braiding a corpse's hair.

- That only sounds weird

when you take it
out of context.

We were having a sleepover.

Pretend husband, defend me.

- Absolutely.
Uh, I would like to, uh,

defend my pretend wife
by saying, uh,

Pentos, you served time.

- And he's a changed man
from it.

But if you wanna talk motive,

Martinez's cousin was killed
by Alistair's Splurt.

- You think I need
another cousin?

Besides, if anyone wanted
Alistair dead, it's Chief!

She probably arranged
this whole night

just to steal his fish-guy!

What the...

- Look at him.
Those beautiful abs,

supple pectorals, the fins.

Screw the money.

I finally know
what the shape of water is.

It's love!
The shape of water is love.

- Anyweird,

I still want to accuse someone!

Who hasn't been accused yet?

- I guess there's Stan.
- Yes!

Kids are capable of anything.

A student once put a sign
on my back

that said "I eat farts,"
which is impossible!

Though I suppose you could
cool one into solid form,

put it on a stick,
and create some sort

of a makeshift fart-sicle.

- Really? Accusing a kid?

You're as cruel
as Dianne's character

in "Bullets Over Broadway."

- And you are acting
like Hannah,

even though D-Dubs
was one of her sisters.

- Don't worry.
They're just arguing

using the movies
of Dianne Wiest.

It's very specific,
and there are very few people

who can follow it.

It's okay you don't get it.

This is appealing
to a different audience.

- Wynona did it!
All she talks about

is murdering this
and strangling that

and "burning a body produces

between three and nine pounds
of cremated remains."

I'm not programmed to make
that kind of small talk!

- Well,
you're certainly programmed

to stab people in the back.

- And we're back to Wynona,

so the circle is complete.

Flute, you've somehow
remained unscathed.

Who did it?
- Just say it.

- I don't know who did it,
okay?

I'm just as obsolete
as Curd's newspapers

and just as crooked
as his back.

If you want answers,
ask Detective Flute.

Detective Stan Flute.

- Dad!

- I can't believe you thought
I could kill someone.

I'll kill you!

- Dad! Dad!

- Let him go.
- I can't.

Did you see the way
he ran out of the room?

- Already working on the meme.

- No, he needs my help.

- Did you forget
what he did to you?

- No, I didn't forget,

but I don't keep grudges.

Those are for babies.

Dad, I found you!

Wait.

Why aren't you eating
the lasagna?

- Once again, Detective Stan
notices everything.

Since you beat your old man,
take this.

Here, you deserve it.

Safety's on. Or off.

I never could figure that out.

- No, Dad,
I don't want your job.

I just wanted you
to be proud of me

because you're
the greatest detective

who ever lived!

And the greatest dad.

- Huh, you really are
pretty observant.

I guess seeing how much
you've grown up

made me realize that
if you're getting older,

I must be too.

- Or maybe
we're both getting better.

- Excuse me.

- Paul Giamatti?

- Please, get me outta here.

I took this gig
'cause I thought it was Cameo.

- Jon, the only thing
I hate more than Mondays

are people who break contracts.

- The point is, you really
impressed me out there, son.

Really?

Well, I'm sorry
someone had to die,

but at least we got closer.

- Yeah, I guess
it was just a--whoa!

both: Happy accident.

- Get back here!

- Everyone,
stop the medieval melee!

I figured--
we figured it out.

You saw I made
that change, right?

I made a conscious choice
to include him.

- I noticed it.

- Stan, wanna give
your old man a hand?

We gotta "Weekend at Bernie's"
this guy.

Wow, what did they call it
before that movie?

"Carrying around a dead guy"
doesn't sound as hilarious.

- Alistair excused himself
into this room.

Then we heard
the clock chime 9:00.

That meant he had
to shotgun a Splurt

to stay alive--
doctor's orders--

so he grabbed a knife.

- Unfortunately,
at that moment,

the train-sion lurched,
and he fell,

stabbing himself in the chest

and dying in a pool
of his own Splurt,

which means
this wasn't a murder.

both: It was an accident.

- Well, this still went better
than last year's party.

- Yeah, at least Flute
didn't send out

any pics of his--

Never mind, there they are.

You're just
getting those now?

Maybe we were in a tunnel.

- So can we put him down now?

I think he's starting to leak.

- Oh, God, yeah.
Put him down. Gross.

- So I guess we both got
a little crazy before.

- Nothing crazy about that.

In fact, I've never been saner
in my life.

He's moving in with me,
and we're going to get married!

- Uh, yeah, about that.

- You speak English?

- I mean, uh...

Bye!

- Damn, I really thought
that was gonna be something.

Well, that's dating
in your 40s.

- Sorry I thought
you were a murderer.

- Thanks, fake husband.

- You're welcome, future wife.

I mean, fake wife.

Phew, that was close.

- You realize,
once we step off this train,

we'll go back to who we were.

- But we will always
have train-sion.

- ♪ We'll always have
the train-sion ♪

♪ No matter what they say

♪ The memories
and friendship ♪

- You know, I'm actually glad

I completely neglected
to call the babysitter.

Sorry. Mansitter.

- "Mansitter."

I wonder what happens
when you Google that.

- ♪ We'll always have
the train-sion ♪

- We didn't know
Alistair long--hell,

we barely knew him at all--
but he gave us something

even more valuable
than a train-sion,

and that is a bond
that will last a lifetime.

To Alistair!

all: To Alistair!

- I can do the fandango!

- Mm, delicious.

Great memorial, everyone.

Well, back to work.

- Bento.