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?
Big Dick: "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 -