All language subtitles for Velma.S02E02.1080p.WEB.h264-EDITH

Previously on Velma...

It's Sheriff Cogburn!

What do you mean you need
to exhume my mother's body?

Seriously? I don't
know what that means.

It means I wanna dig her up
and make sure she's truly dead.

Wait, is that my
mom's cold case file?

Why is that evidence?

And where are
Dr. Perdue's journals?

They were in the file when
I gave it back to Cogburn.

Could that
be why he was killed?

So, are we good?

Good? No, we're not good.

You killed me, Norville, and
I'll never let you forget it.

- Huh?

Hello?

Not gonna lie.
Being popular doesn't suck.

People finally laugh
at my hilarious jokes.

I get Moses privileges
during sporting events.

People
even copy my style.

But you do occasionally have to
get behind some pretty dumb shit.

- Velma!

Why did I just find a whole
stack of Creaky Friday flyers

you were supposed to
hand out, in the trash?

Yeah. I don't know. I
handed out all of mine.

Okay, look. I just think this
town has so many problems.

Homelessness, a missing
murdered sheriff,

and not one decent Thai place.

Why focus on oiling Crystal Cove's
famously spooky creaking doors?

- Well,
because it's a tradition.

And when else do popular girls get
to make losers do their bidding

in the name of charity?

This is our Christmas.

So, promise us you handed
out your other flyers.

- I promise.

- Ahh!

Hey, Daph, guess what?

After biology class,

- Mr. S is gonna tell me what he knows...
- Ugh.

About Dr. Perdue's
missing journals,

and if they're tied to
Sheriff Cogburn's murder.

Oh, cool. Maybe Cogburn and
Dr. Perdue were soul mates.

And I'm not just
saying soul mates

because you hate
the word soul mates.

Soul mates.

Uh, hey, Lola, I
was wondering if

Ahh!

You'll never escape
me, Norville. Never!

Well, that was weird.

Usually men don't
stop hitting on me

- until I bring up astrology.

Where's Mr. S?

Sure, he's handsome, but
only cool people are late.

And he has four graphic
tees about mitosis.

- He's not here yet.

And I'm sensing strong, negative
forces are at play. Or wait.

Maybe traffic.

Attention, students. I have
some sensitive information.

Mr. S is missing.

And we know he didn't quit,

because teachers really make
a meal out of it when they do.

- Oh, God!

Who will write my college
recommendation letter?

And only a week after
Cogburn was killed.

Another middle-aged white guy.

Is someone targeting
smart watch users?

Now, for those of you...

Fred!

You think Mr. S's disappearance

is connected to
Cogburn's murder, too.

Leave me alone, Velma.

What's that picture
of? Your mom?

And that's not just a
classic burn. I'm serious.

I still think she's somehow
alive and out for revenge.

Yeah, well, sorry to disappoint,
but this picture proves

my mom didn't kill Cogburn,
because she's dead.

And finally, we know
Mr. S is your teacher,

but this is official
police business.

We don't need your help.

So, if we catch any
of you investigating,

you'll be in cuffs faster than a
startup founder with a weird voice.

"But in the
end, was I kid-napped,

or adult-found?"

Wow. I am finally
hitting my stride.

Which means, I've earned a
break and can text Mr. S.

He can't even heart one text?

- Jerk!

Oh, damn it.

- Fred.

Mr. S is now missing. If
you really want me to think

your mom, Victoria, hasn't
returned to kill more people,

show me that picture.

No! The police don't
want us investigating.

And if the church has taught me
anything, it's to question nothing.

I have to see that
picture. But how?

No.

Stupid.

Useless.

Creaky
Friday. That's it.

- I need
to be partnered with Fred

for Creaky Friday tomorrow.

He has evidence, and I can
only make him show it to me

if we're stuck together all day.

Velma, I get it.
But we can't just

violate Creaky Friday's sacred
random pairing traditions.

Sacred traditions?

This is oiling hinges, not some
old legend worthy of a montage.

What are you talking
about, Velma?

- Creaky Friday began in the 1890s...

when our whole town was on edge
from breathing crystal mining dust.

Thirty-seven
people died that year.

To avoid further tragedy,

Crystal Cove's first
popular girl, Helen Creaky,

paid the schoolchildren to oil
all the door hinges in town.

And to ensure
they didn't goof off,

Helen used balls of lead
to pair them randomly.

The pairings were so awkward, the students
oiled hinges to avoid conversation.

And yes, that year,
20 people still died,

but only from lead poisoning.

And so, the sacred tradition of
populars randomly pairing students

for Creaky Friday, was born.

And we will not tempt fate
by pairing you with Fred.

Brenda merely thought about rigging Creaky
Friday so she could win it last year.

And look at her now.

- Cursed with late lunch.

Norville, why do
you keep looking at me?

You could at least help
me open my textbook.

Oh, no, I... I...
I wanted to know

if you'd wanna
hang out sometime?

I thought, maybe, I could
make your life a little easier

by building you a
transport device.

Whoa! Awesome.

We'd love a transport device.

Uh, "we"? Who is "we"?

We are, four limbs.

And you'd travel in a pack, too,

- if people kept trying to recycle you.

Hey, I'm glass,
not plastic, idiot.

Why are we breaking into
the yearbook office again?

You know I can't edit the sneeze
out of your yearbook photo.

- And it's cute.
- I know.

I'm putting metal shavings in
my and Fred's Ping-Pong balls,

so I can use a
magnet to pair us up.

You're rigging Creaky Friday?

- That is a bad idea.
- Wait.

Please tell me that in addition
to believing in soulmates,

you're not also superstitious.

It's bad enough our town just
started allowing women onto ships.

A little. But I'm upset
because if you're rigging it,

there's no way for
fate to pair us up

and prove to you that we're...

You know.

Daphne, I don't need Creaky Friday

to tell me what we
have is special.

Really?

Yes. It's a godless universe,

- so just help me cheat.

And now, the traditional picking
of the partners will begin.

The first selection will be made

by a young woman who believes in
the sanctity of Creaky Friday.

- Right?
- You know it.

Oh, wow. I picked myself and
Fred... Am I saying this right?

Jonez? Joannas?

- Oh, Fred Jones.

- What?
- Oh, come on.

I'm not ready to
be bossed around

by another short-haired,
angry woman.

Mother just died.

Velma, did you really

pick the exact person you
wanted to be paired with?

See? We told you to
trust the tradition.

- The next pair is...

Daphne and Amber!

- Wait, what?
- And so it was written.

Yeah, give me one sec.

See, I told you not to
mess with Creaky Friday.

Now I'm spending all
day with your nemesis.

Amber's not my nemesis, Daphne.

I just think occult
stuff is weird.

Your pairing is
merely a coincidence.

Because I promise you

...the universe
does not punish people

- for messing with tradition.

I know you rigged this, Velma.

If there's one thing rich
people know, it's cheating.

So what if I did?

There are more important
things than tradition.

No, there aren't.
Look at the Catholics.

We used to control the world.

But then, Martin
Luther was all, like...

"Let's
ignore traditions."

And now, we only
control Boston and the Supreme Court.

Exactly. Tradition,
religion, superstition.

When you remove the
fun hats and free wine,

- they're just about controlling people with fear.

So, you don't
believe in anything?

- I believe in proving your mom is still alive...

and looking through
people's medicine cabinets.

Which is why we're going
to ignore Daphne's moms

and break into Mr. S's apartment

- to look for clues on his disappearance.

What? Police tape? Coroners?

A detective needlessly
squatting and shaking her head?

Mr. S isn't missing.
I think he's dead!

Velma, we can't be here. We'll
be arrested for investigating.

And I'm already
gonna have trouble

explaining why I went to
prison for murder to colleges.

Well, too bad.

Because the only way I'm not telling
the cops we're investigating right now,

is if you show me that
picture in your file.

Advertisement!

Ad-ver-tisement!

- I told Velma it was dangerous to mess up the pairing ritual.

Now, it's too random
and everyone's fighting

- instead of oiling hinges.

Oh, I agree that larger
forces are at play,

- but I actually manifested us being paired together.

- Amber, please.

Superstition is one thing,

but believing in
things like manifesting

is what makes Velma
think you're weird.

Also your "I'm weird" tattoo.

I see.

Well then, you leave me no
choice but to enlighten you

- by manifesting us winning Creaky Friday.

Oh, God! I mean, that
is a really nice,

not at all totally messed
up shrine to your mom

- on a dog crate.
- Yeah, or employee crate,

depending on Mother's
mood.

Regardless, a real upside
to being Catholic now,

is knowing she's
in a better place.

- Fred!

- What are you doing?
- What? It's my hiding place.

And I don't want this picture
falling into the wrong hands.

- Here.

What? Either they stopped
cleaning the public pools again

- or that's...
- A ghost.

But the Church
thinks it's a demon,

which is why they sold me
this relic for only $10,000.

It's the toe of a saint.

This little piggy is holy!

Fred, where did you
get this picture?

The person who hired me to
solve Cogburn's death sent it.

And don't ask who hired me.

They insist on doing everything
anonymously over email.

Wait, I've
seen this ghost before!

They're okay, which
is pretty lucky

since they listed their health
care provider as the wind.

- Amber. What were you thinking?

You never throw your body at
a car worth less than $75,000!

Shh. Listen.

- The squeaking hinges.

I told you manifesting
isn't weird.

Now, let's go win this thing.

All right, here's your old
typewriter as requested,

and a bottle of idea juice from
your old stash in the toy bin.

What?
That's not mine.

I always get my
liquor inside my body.

Diya, I know you.
Laptops don't just break.

I bet your life you're self-sabotaging
again to keep from writing.

And this was the only
thing that ever helped you.

Self-sabotage? How dare you?

No. You're right.

This is what I need
to finish my book.

Okay.

So, to ensure these are
properly reading brain activity,

I need to make some
light, small talk.

Brenda, you sleep okay?
You look a little tired.

- I knew it. My lobe has crow's feet.

And Krista? I hear your
parents' marriage is in trouble?

Uh, how could
it be in trouble?

They barely talk to each other.
What are these questions?

Yeah, what's the deal?

I'm getting major "frat guys
invite us to a sex party",

"but then fill our jars
with goldfish" vibes.

What?
I'm just asking questions,

cause I'm interested
in your lives.

But are they
causing you anxiety?

See? I told you
it wasn't a ghost.

So, put your relic away
before someone develops

yet another TV show about a
believer and a smoking hot skeptic.

Are you kidding? This only
makes my faith stronger.

Real faith is knowing
something's true

even when it's verifiably false.

Excuse me?

I need to know the last person
who rented this costume.

Was their name Victoria Jones?

Oh, so sorry. Customer
lists are private.

People's role playing fantasies
are meant to be kept between them,

- and me.

Hey, hey, hey, hey! Stop
that. Halloween is coming,

and I need the place
as creaky as possible.

- Fred! The computer!

Oh, my God, that's where I
remember the costume from.

Norville?

Fred, we have to go now!

That's over 50 doors, but
it's not enough to win.

I guess I was only
powerful enough

to manifest an "I told you so."

If you really wanna win, you'll
have to help me manifest it, Daphne.

Me? Manifest? Mm, okay.

But only to win.

Not because I'm desperate
to prove to Velma

there's more to the
universe than she thinks.

- Okay, now, deep breaths.

- And...

How would you two like to
come to the basement with me?

I have some things
that need, uh,

- lubricating.

- Ugh!
- We did it!

Wait. Are we in a morgue?

- Yes.

Welcome to your
final resting place.

Eventually!
He meant to say,

"Your final resting
place, eventually."

I'm so sorry. Everything he says

is so unintentionally creepy.

- Um...

Anyway, are you here
to oil the hinges?

- It did work!

Norville, this is amazing!

We'll never question
a guy's motives again.

We know you
wore the ghost costume

on the night of Cogburn's death.

You killed him.

An innocent old man with a
whole week or two ahead of him.

What? No, I didn't!

Oh, God!

You didn't kill Cogburn.

But you did kill me.

- Ahh!

And I'll never let your
brain forget it, Norville.

- Help!

Help! I'm hallucinating!

Ahh!

I need a snack!

Are you okay?

- Yes.
- Okay. Well, in that case,

why were you at the police
station In a ghost costume?

Did you kill Cogburn?

Of course I didn't kill him.

I was just there to get
my grandmother's journals.

So, that's why her journals were
missing from my mom's cold case file.

Yes! I
used the costume

to hide my identity from
the security cameras,

and stole the journals when
Cogburn went to the bathroom.

I knew her research could help me
isolate the anxiety in my brain

and hopefully get rid of it.

But I needed to experiment
on the brains first.

What? I knew it.

Men are only nice when
they're also being creepy.

A likely story. Call
the cops, Velma.

And he'll need a lawyer.
Not your dad. A good one.

What? No. There's no
way Norville did this.

If he was gonna snap and kill
anyone, it would obviously be me.

Hm. Interesting.

Despite all the physical
evidence saying one thing,

you still believe
in something else.

So, you let Norville walk,

but I'm the fanatic
for using a saint's toe

to protect us from demons.

Fred, believing
Norville is innocent,

is not the same as
believing in ghosts

or a God that dictates who
wins our top music awards.

How? Your baseless belief
is shaping your judgment.

My belief is not baseless.
We know Norville.

Would a murderer be a
children's party clown?

Or know every sign
of the zodiac?

Or give hitchhikers rides?

Okay, not great examples.

Norville was at the scene
of Cogburn's murder.

- Fact, he lied about it.

Fact, his grandmother's
ghost possessed my mother.

- Fact.
- No, not a fact.

Your mother wasn't possessed,
Norville's innocent,

and your saint's toe is
clearly just an old caramel.

Yeah, well, I hope you didn't plan on
winning any country music awards this year

because I guarantee,
you just blew it.

Oh?

Hm.

No, no, no. Not...

Not those two. Those
two are off limits.

Promise you won't open them.

- Okay.
- We promise.

Oh, thank you. Because
Vincent and I are late

for our couples' therapy.

Yes.

Today we are going to kill

our fears of being vulnerable.

- It's Sheriff Cogburn!

- And this is Mr. S!
- What?

But how'd they die?

Velma, thank God you came.

We found Cogburn and Mr. S,

and they're not
only dead, their...

Their
dongs were removed?

This is almost as bad as girls
having their brains removed. Almost.

Ooh, whoa! Hey, whoa!

TMI! Cannot unsee that. Whoa!

Are you done masking your fear
with performative overreaction?

Yeah, yeah, wait. Whoa!
I'm good.

But who would do that?

And why would someone with a photo
of Norville in a ghost costume

hire Fred to figure it out?

Where'd you get
this? It's a still

from a police station
surveillance camera.

It is? Then we have to
go there. Come on, Daph.

And Amber, too, I guess.

Actually, Velma,

Amber and I are really close
to winning Creaky Friday.

I know you think it's dumb,
but I think you're dumb

for not believing in different
moisturizers for different body parts.

- Or soul mates.
- Oh, my God.

Do you really wanna have a deep
conversation about our feelings right now?

- Yes.
- Fine.

Punch it, Fred.

Thanks so much for
meeting with me, William.

Ah, it's nice to be
out of the house.

Even if it is, I assume, to be
shamed for something my wife did.

Wouldn't be the
first time today.

I actually have
something for you.

I assume from your clothes, breath,
and bursts of anger, you drink Scotch?

Uh, yes!

I wanna interview
you for my book.

It's a memoir about
my kidnapping.

And recipes. Going for an
early Nora Ephron vibe.

Well, then, I
accept your Scotch.

Uh, but, uh, if this
isn't adversarial,

we really should be drinking
Burgundy, don't you think?

Oh. I
don't drink anymore.

Well, what do you do for
fun, then, Diya Dinkley?

My favorite part of police
work is the crafting.

- Gonna crochet handcuffs next.

This photo was taken the
night of Cogburn's murder.

One of your officers
sent it to Fred.

Fred, a child, with the mind
and body of a younger child.

What? Where did you get that?

No one has access to
that footage except us.

And the North Korean teen who sent
me a fake link to some puppy pics.

Unless...

I'm sorry. I sent
the photo to Fred,

but only because
we have no leads

and he's a supernatural expert.

Look at his saint's toe.

No, Velma's right.
It's a caramel.

Wait.

No, that was bone.

Linda, we've got an
election coming up.

If people find out we're still
letting kids solve our cases,

we're ruined. How could you?

Oh, my God! It's because Linda's more
worried about how voters will react

if they learned that a
dong-removing serial killer

is running wild on their watch.

Yes. But wait.

How do you know about
their missing dongs?

Daphne and Amber found their
bodies, while oiling hinges.

Meaning, my decision to violate the rules
of Creaky Friday are even more validated.

- Yeah, boy.

- Two men are dead, Velma.
- Yes, of course. I'm sorry.

- Now, please, promise you'll tell no one.

Uh, busy, Dad. You and Mom
just do date night without me.

- Huh?

- Lola?

What are you doing here?

Has skateboarding caused you to
smoke and be shitty to women?

I can't reverse
that, I'm afraid.

No, I deserve an apology.

Just because you're hot doesn't
mean you can treat me like you did.

Got it?

Uh, got what? After you said you
think I'm hot everything got fuzzy.

Well, the point is,
I deserve better.

Not much better. I did
just ram some loser's shin,

- and I'm totes fine with it.
- Ow!

- But, still...
- I'm sorry.

What I did was wrong.

I'm just so desperate to
stop my hallucinations.

Okay, well, then you leave me no
choice but to help you cure them.

And you should hope I still wanna jump
your bones once you're damage free.

So, someone
is now killing men

associated with
Dr. Perdue's journals,

and removing their dongs.

Whoa! Ey! Oh!

Oh, sorry, reflex.

But I still think
Norville is the killer.

You do? But you didn't
even mention him

as a potential suspect
to Linda and Donna,

even when they gave you that
honorary sheriff sticker.

Yeah, well, what can I say?

I realized your faith in
Norville is good enough for me.

Damn it! This is why religious
people are so maddening.

You act nuts, but then do good
stuff no one else will do.

Like feed the poor and
entertain old people.

Whoa, wait. What? We do?
Well, this is not that.

Uh, look. I don't expect you to
believe my mom was possessed.

But I'll continue to
believe you about Norville,

if you at least believe
me that my mom is dead.

Fine. And I'm sorry
I mocked your religion.

If it brings you peace, to think
that bitch is in a better place,

who am I to judge?

I mean, it's no crazier than
Daphne believing in soul mates,

and I've been very
accepting of that.

- Wait.
- Thanks, Velma.

That means a lot.

As we learned in my favorite
passage from Genesis,

"There's too many men, too many
people making too many problems"

"and not much love
to go around."

Fred! Please do more research
on the Catholic Church!

Fine. This'll be good.

Oh, my God!

I have to give them
10% of my gross income?

- What a scam! I am out!

And the Creaky Friday team
who oiled the most doors today

were Daphne Blake
and this new kid

who people are still
forming an opinion about.

- Amber, it worked!
- Whoo-hoo!

- Love it!
- Thank you!

Those college admissions committee
shills are gonna eat this shit up.

And now, to the steps
of the Police Department

where Merle Cogburn is making
a special announcement.

As you know,

my beloved brother and voice
twin, Earl, passed away.

What you don't know is that the two
women hoping to replace him as sheriff,

have outsourced the investigation
of his death to kids!

Which leaves me no choice
but to enter the race myself.

- What?

Velma?

Hey, I'm sorry for being so
closed-minded about the soul mates thing.

I care for you more than anyone.

And if you wanna call that being
soul mates, I'm all for it.

Thank you. I appreciate that.

I learned a lot today, too.

Have you heard of manifesting?

It doesn't just help
beautiful women at auditions,

it could probably help
with your investigation.

Oh, yeah, maybe. Thanks.

But as tolerant as I've become,

I still find that
stuff a little silly.

I mean, I messed with Creaky
Friday's sacred tradition

and absolutely nothing
bad happened to me.

- Oh, God!

- Uh...
- Velma!

We would have covered up if we'd
heard the door, but it was just oiled!

I hate Creaky Friday!

I forgot you had a kid.

Vincent.

I saw the door was
open to the body room.

Are you using them to practice
your ballroom dancing again?

Vincent?

- Vincent?

- Ahh!