All language subtitles for Psych s08e06 1967 A Psych Odyssey.eng

Do we know what this is about?

No clue. Got the same memo you did.

Hey, did you guys get the memo?

We got the memo.

- We had to share a memo.
- Who sent the memo?

Let's just hope it's not from Trout.

God...

Please let it not be Trout.

Amen.

Subtitles downloaded from www.OpenSubtitles.org

Well, hello, team.

- Karen!
- You came back.

Chief, you have no idea
what we've been through.

He was awful. Trout was hell.

Mostly for Lassie. But this feels rich.

I mean, this feels like home again.

It does, doesn't it?

So that's why it's gonna be even harder

for me to say what I'm about to say now.

You're having another baby?

What? No.

I came back to say good-bye.

I've accepted a position
up north. Bay area.

Effective immediately.

Chief, you can't leave.

You're not even back yet.

Guys, this is the hardest
professional decision

that I've ever had to make,

and that's all because of you guys.

God, we've been through a lot together.

And I am damn proud of
the work that we've done.

I've had some time to
give it a lot of thought...

so excuse me, who's the new chief?

That's still undetermined, Carlton.

Okay.

This new job is an opportunity for me

to build a brand-new
station from the ground up,

keys to the castle...

So is there a short list?

And if so, am I on it?

What is the overall list situation?

I put in a call, Carlton.
You'll get an interview.

Get in here.

- I think we're done here.
- Yup. Yeah.

It's been a privilege, Karen.

Thank you.

We are gonna miss
the heck out of you, Chief.

But this isn't good-bye,

'cause there's no such thing as good-bye.

Good-bye, Chief.

Catch you on the flip side.

Shawn.

- Yeah.
- Leave the fish.

Yup, this does not belong to me.

I don't want you to go.

Juliet, take a seat.

All right, Carlton.

You are the man who will be chief.

It's just a formality.

You're at the top of the list,

so act like it.

Oh, no, no, there was no list.

I'd narrowed it down to a few candidates,

and you weren't one of them,
but then Karen Vick called

and practically begged me to consider you.

Hiring this great city's
new chief of police is...

well, it's a big moment for me.

That water is not for the interviewees.

Have you ever heard of
Archie Baxter, Detective?

- Excuse me.
- He was my Uncle.

He was the only father I ever knew.

He brought me out here in the back
of a station wagon in the '60s.

Decent man.

Salt of the earth.

Teetotaler.

He was married to his work.

He made his living as a crime reporter.

Back then, this town was owned by the mob,

including the police.

But he dug a little too
deep and got murdered for it.

That was in 1967 during the
tenure of Chief Olson Watt.

Watt was a very fine man, sir.

Olson Watt was a duplicitous bald bastard

who stonewalled anyone who
tried to find out the truth.

And that is the kind of thing

that won't happen on my watch.

I will fight for those who...

I'm just gonna leave now, sir.

Oh, God.

People, we have a case,

one which will have no
small impact on my future

as chief of the Santa
Barbara police department.

This file is my ticket to immortality.

Strode, read the autopsy
report and keep it clean.

Ah, former SBPD coroner
slippery Dick Miller.

Boy, there is a blast from the past.

- Carry on, Strode.
- Okay, we are...

we are looking at one Archie Baxter.

Looks to be about 6'2".

Woody, there's no body.

Oh, is that a relief. I thought maybe I was

the only one that couldn't see it.

What the hell am I doing here?

Archie Baxter was killed in 1967,

and the SBPD swept his case under the rug.

So? I wasn't on the force in '67.

Wait, how old do you all think I am?

What does a cold case have

to do with you being Chief, Carlton?

Because Archie Baxter was just like me.

I know how he thinks.

He was a hound for justice,

and it got him killed.

Plus, he was the Mayor's Uncle.

Keep reading, Strode.

Cause of death, blunt
force trauma to the chest.

Internal bleeding from impact.

Fatal sternal fracture. Eight broken ribs.

Guy's heart's gotta look
like a whoopee cushion.

This dude really axed into the fat shack.

Dusted.

Fubar. Wipeout.

Blood alcohol levels suggest
that he was moderately

to severely kootered, man. Fiction.

Archie Baxter was a teetotaler,
and the police report

indicates that a sky blue Cadillac Eldorado

was seen driving away from the crash site.

Don't you get it?

Someone wanted his death

to look like an accident.

And we're gonna find that someone,

and the mayor's gonna make me chief,

and it's gonna be glorious.

Now saddle up, and let's ride.

Lassie needs us.

It's time to throw on our love beads,

grow out our treasure trails,

go beyond the valley of the dolls.

Now who wants to light my fire?

I do. I do.

- synced and corrected by chamallow -
- www.addic7ed.com -

Ah, The Mirror,

Santa Barbara's political
and cultural heartbeat.

Her pages are interwoven into the fabric

of our local community, Shawn.

Yep, I'm pretty sure
there's an app for that now.

- Yeah.
- Found it.

It's not much to go on,
but it's all we've got.

What the hell?

Come on, man, you know that
moment needed something.

Crime reporter.

A man dedicates his life
to the pursuit of the truth,

and all he has to show for it
is a cardboard box full of crap.

- _
- Hello.

What's this?

That is the Limelighter
Lounge, owned back in the day

by Rodney Caruso.

Rodney Caruso, the infamous mobster?

Is there any other kind?

I don't know. Ask Richard Grieco.

Dude, how dope would
it be to be in the mob?

Or even married to the mob?

Just look at that and tell
me what pops out at you.

Oh, looks like the cleaners is open.

- That's cool.
- I see a little kid

who should probably be in school.

Couple drunk cops.

Ooh, that's a good-looking bulldog.

Drunk cops...

Middle of the day patronizing a mob joint?

That must have been what Archie was after.

Hey, Watt.

You care to explain this?

That's a good-looking bulldog.

Cut the crap. I'm clocking two of your guys

walking out of Rodney Caruso's joint

- drunk in the middle of the day.
- Maybe they were thirsty.

Well, they were thirsty the day before that

and the day before that.

What are you driving at, Baxter?

How many of your guys
are in Caruso's pocket?

I have neither the time nor the patience

to explain myself to a two-bit reporter.

You barge in here like this again,

I'll have your job.

Now get the hell out of my office.

I'm sure somewhere there's
a cat stuck in a tree.

Go write an expose about that.

I'll be back.

Next stop, Limelighter Lounge.

Come on, guys.

You gonna steal a dead
man's desk thermometer?

Fine.

All right, sock it to me,
partner. What'd you find?

Well, I searched the records room.

Watt never launched an investigation

into Caruso in his entire tenure as chief.

Not one inquiry.

Well, isn't that interesting as hell?

Man, it's gonna be all musty in here.

- You're musty.
- Your mama's musty.

I think we should all split up,

cover way more ground that way.

I'll go with Jules, and this whole thing

will become an investi-date.

See what I did there, you guys?

Grow up.

So why are you so on fire to help Lassiter

with this case?

It's not just Lassie, Jules.

It's Rufus Sewell.

It's Sophie B. Hawkins.

I mean, they were all born in '67.

Ah, I love me some Sophie B.

Damn, I wish I was your lover.

You are.

Well, then I guess I
must be doing this for us,

because you'll be bumped
up to head detective

when Lassie gets promoted to Chief.

Naturally, I'll get a title bump as well.

Something like "first
lover in the nighttime."

Hmm? Maybe a little bit of bacon?

You don't know this for sure.

Okay, I suppose I don't.

We'll workshop the title.

But it's moot, because you are gonna be in.

And we're gonna get a hot tub.

And I'm gonna buy you a dolphin.

And you can name her Cher,
who was also born in '67.

That doesn't sound right to me, Shawn.

There's nothing in there.

- Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
- What?

- What is that?
- What does it look like?

You gonna steal that?

It's a victimless crime, Shawn.

You realize that's not the whole fryer?

It's just the basket.

Man, you don't know.

O'Hara, come look at this.

I will be damned if that
isn't Chief Olson Watt

living it up at the Limelighter.

Whoa, whoa, Lassie, just
forget about Watt for a second

because that is my guy

Rodney Caruso

and his smoking hot girlfriend

Scarlett Jones.

Come on, I can say that about
women from other centuries.

Rodney Caruso was a
cold-blooded killer, Shawn.

I bet I would have made one hell of a capo

- at La Cosa Nostril.
- Nostra.

Oh, I don't know. I mean, I have

a wandering spirit,

and I'm not great with a blade.

- I'm good.
- What?

Myles Velour, Jr. and the Velour-ettes.

He was as cool as the
other side of the pillow.

My old man listened

to all those records when I was little.

And I said, "oh, I got one bullet left."

Well, well, well.

Chief Watt.

It is so good to see you loosening your tie

a little bit here.

After all, mi casa es su casa, mi amigo.

Forgive this interruption.

The next round is on me.

Oh! I like that.

- Thank you.
-
Something I said

The Mayor was right about Watt.

First Henry gets popped by
a dirty cop, and now this.

There are more stains
on Santa Barbara's carpet

than I care to steam.

Carlton, we're gonna need more

than old photos and police records

that don't exist.

Watt is dead, Caruso is dead,

even Myles Velour cashed in his chips,

so unless there is someone
alive we can actually talk to...

Melba Birdsong.

Gus, we can't just make up a fun name.

We need an actual human person
we can put the screws to.

Melba Birdsong was one of
the Velour-ettes, Shawn.

And I know she's still
alive because she's appearing

The musical.

It's playing at the old Cosmopolitan.

My dad and I have tickets.

And, yes, I found the other
piece to the fryer, so...

Myles.

He was smooth as the lord makes 'em.

Ooh, and I knew it.

And the lord makes 'em smooth.

Yeah.

Ms. Birdsong, you were about to tell us

what you remember about Olson Watt.

Well, there ain't much to tell.

Back in the day, I made it my business

to stay away from the police.

You never spoke to him?

Not me.

I heard Myles talk to him a time or two.

Watt wasn't playing games.

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

I know Caruso's a rat. I'm
gonna clean up this sewer.

You know where the drop is going down.

Now give it up... hey,
I'll smack it out of you.

Listen, man, easy, easy.

His business is his business.

When you have a cat
like Caruso as your boss,

you just keep your nose clean, you dig?

- I'm just a ham-and-eggs man.
- What?

The boss man doesn't even dig me, you dig?

I only got this gig because
his chick is a fan of the funk.

Scarlett Jones.

She's a twist, baby.

Every now and then, I'll
do a private clambake

for him and Scarlett.

And you don't want to know

no more than that, Chief.

So Watt wasn't dirty after all.

Well, it was a long time ago,

but from what I can remember,

the chief was one of the good guys.

Melba, why are you so nervous?

I am not nervous.

It's okay. Caruso can't hurt you now.

Yeah, you don't need to be keeping secrets

for dead white gangsters, sister.

Let that bird fly.

Myles was like a brother to me.

He wasn't being straight

with the chief because
he had his own problems.

What kind of problems?

Myles used to handle Caruso's money

for him from time to time.

Problem was Myles loved to gamble.

First you steal from me,

and then you lie to me.

I cannot wait to see what you
do for an encore, my friend.

You must think I am a damn fool.

- Ah, no.
- A clown who rides the bull...

- No.
- At the rodeo.

No, boss.

Perhaps one of those tall, skinny people

with the curly hair who
pretend to be stuck in a box

or walking against the wind.

That's a street mime.

Give me one good reason

why I shouldn't put a bullet
in your head right now.

I'm just a
ham-and-eggs man.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry, boss.

It's the chips. They keep calling me.

You are lucky, my friend.

Lucky that my woman loves the way

that you bring in the noise,

the way that you bring in the funk.

You're going to repay your
debt to me and then some.

You're going to do
everything I tell you to do

exactly when I tell you to do it.

Sounds like it was gonna take

more than a couple of
private shows to work off

Velour's debt to Caruso.

What's that picture?

Me, Myles, and Paella Powell.

I slapped the hell out of that bitch once.

It's also the same type of car

that was seen at the crime scene,

a sky blue Cadillac Eldorado.

Oh, yes, that car was Myles' baby.

So Myles Velour killed Archie Baxter.

Caruso made him his hatchet man.

He did it to save his own skin.

Oh, that's impossible. He was...

I solved the case! I'm
gonna be Chief of police.

Hey. No, you can't just go in...

Terribly sorry to interrupt, sir,

but I think you are gonna want to see this.

Seriously?

John Lavin's a candidate?

He's been collecting
disability for over a decade,

and he doesn't even walk funny.

I was shot in the chest.

You wrote a screenplay last year.

So?

What the hell is your problem, Lassiter?

You have some nerve
barging in on me like this.

I know who killed your Uncle, sir.

Are you freaking kidding me?

You think I don't know about Myles Velour?

Didn't I tell you that I've been obsessed

with my Uncle's case since I was a boy?

That I have all his
possessions at my house?

Well, then, sir, you know that Velour was

a spineless yes man with
a gambling addiction.

What I do know is that he was arrested

for starting a bar fight

after a show in Kansas City

on the very night that Archie was killed.

That is a matter of
public record, Detective.

So if that's all you've got,
I suggest that you apologize

to me, to John, and to Agnes on the way out

because you'll be leaving now.

I am ridiculously sorry, sir.

John.

You sold a script last year, man.

What are you even doing here?

Oh, no, it was that bad.

He's been inconsolable since we got back.

Serves him right. Dude
was all over the brother

just 'cause he had a
bouffant and a blue caddy.

Gus, that's not true.

Oh, I honestly haven't
been paying attention.

Here's a question.

- Is Scarlett Jones still alive?
- Beats me.

Easy enough to check, though. Why?

Because all we know for sure

is that Archie Baxter was after someone

or something in this picture.

And that is Scarlett Jones.

Carlton, splash some water on your face.

We got a new lead.

Yep, that's the one.

You sure? 'Cause it's been over 40 years.

Of course I'm sure.

I may have the bod for sin,

but I have the memory of an adult elephant.

He was obsessed with this picture.

Did she just say she had a bod for sin?

- Yes.
- She needs Jesus.

Can I smoke?

What do you think?

I think you want me the same way

a land turtle wants crab apples.

Just answer the questions, please.

Well, what's in it for me?

Baxter was asking you

about your boyfriend Rodney, wasn't he?

The fact that half the police force

was already on the payroll, right?

Huh? Ring any belly-bells?

Oh, sugar,

is that the dragon you're chasing?

Well, I hate to burst

your yummy little bubble,

but Archie Baxter was a deadbeat drunk,

and there was only one thing in that photo

that he was after.

Hey, Jonesy.

You again?

It's okay.

Hey, Jonesy.

So did you talk to her yet?

Did you talk to her?

Oh, down, boy. Your lipstick's showing.

You said you were gonna talk to her for me.

You said you were gonna put in a good word.

You're just yanking my chain.

Not for all the tea in China.

Oh, just look at her.

Look, can't you see right there?

So beautiful.

She just looks right through me.

I don't know why you carry

that stupid photo around
when you can look...

No, Jones, don't point.

She's gonna think I'm staring
at her like some desperate kook.

It's never gonna happen for you, Archie.

Let's just say melba
prefers a softer touch.

Stop torturing yourself.
Let me call you a cab.

I don't need a cab.

God!

Get off. I'm fine.

- Now can I smoke?
- No.

Do you mean to tell me
this whole murder charade

is just about some crush
that didn't pan out?

Murder? Archie Baxter wasn't murdered.

He stumbled out of there and
drove himself off a cliff.

Everyone knows that.

Now is there anything else?

Or shall we just skip to dessert?

No. No. No. Um...

Thank you. You're free to go.

Just a monumental waste of time.

That's why Myles didn't get up on that.

Melba has a thing for the ladies.

I have a whole new respect for melba toast.

Come on, you guys, it
takes a lot of courage

and resolve to live your
life as an old, black lesbian.

- You know, that's right.
- You bet your ass it does.

You know what I mean?

What the hell am I doing?

There was no case here. There never was.

I will just have

to rely on the strength of my interview

with the Mayor and my people skills.

I am so screwed.

- That's not optimal.
- It's not... it's not great.

You wake up. I need to ask you something.

Yes. Yes, we have tickets to Howard Jones

at the Santa Barbara Bowl.

Guess who's opening.
I'm giving you one hint.

Chief Vick asked me to
be her head detective.

Homicide, obviously.

Wow.

But, you know, if Carlton's promoted,

I'm looking at the same opportunity here.

You were right.

You know, he told me as much already.

See?

Plus I'm here.

Oh, right.

Plus you're here. Of course.

And, you know, the pay
will be so much better here

because of time served.

I mean, it's really a
no-brainer, which is why,

as flattering as it is, I'm...
I'm not really considering it.

Plus, you know, San Francisco...

I mean, it's littered with
shallow, entitled 49er fans.

- Ugly-on-the-inside-type people.
- Right.

- Right?
- Right.

- You don't need that, you know.
- Right.

Sir, you can't park your car there.

Carlton.

Carl...

Carlton, come on, man. Wake up.

Huh?

Don't be dumb.

You're dreaming. I'm a ghost.

We haven't got much time.

Sorry.

Avenge me.

I was murdered.

You drove yourself off a cliff,

you drunk, degenerate lunger.

I never had a drink in my life.

My nephew told you that.

Except for that night in
Korea when Stalin died.

Stinkin' red.

Now you listen to me,

Scarlett Jones had
plenty of reasons to lie.

Come on. Think about it.

You're better than this.

You stay the course.

You're all I have.

Adieu. Adieu.

Remember me.

What are you looking at?

You still see me?

Oh, there I go.

Shake a leg, Strode.

She was lying, Strode. Scarlett Jones

must have been covering
for boyfriend Rodney Caruso

because he left her everything,
and any case brought against him

would have affected her directly.

So who killed Archie Baxter?

If I knew that, do you
think I'd be standing here

with you at 3:00 A.M.?

No. I'm wondering something.

You're wondering if a woman in a camisole

was wearing this bear's head

mere seconds before your arrival?

No. I'm wondering, is there anything else

that could have accounted for
Baxter's level of intoxication?

I asked myself the very same question.

So I checked levels of
gamma-glutamyl transpeptidase

in the blood, which, as you know,

is usually very high in people who drink.

Not the case with Mr. Baxter.

That man's liver was dead sexy,
and I'm not even a liver man.

I mean, I'm not not a liver man.

- So Baxter wasn't drunk.
- Probably not.

But the level of quinalbarbitone
in his blood suggests

the presence of barbiturates.

Barbiturates.

How the hell did slippery
Dick Miller miss that?

We pathologists have come a long way

since the age of aquarius.

This confirms it, Strode.

Scarlett Jones is a liar,

and Baxter was after Caruso.

I am so close, I can taste it.

- Oh, me too.
- I'm gonna bounce.

Thanks, Strode.

Oh, and, Lassie, if you happen

to run into half a bear in the alley,

don't shoot it.

You got it, buddy.

It's 6:00 in the morning, Lassie.

- We're missing something.
- It's called sleep.

This place is as close as we're gonna get

to solving Baxter's murder.

- We gotta keep looking.
- Where?

It's a victimless crime, Shawn.

Follow me.

Gus!

Everybody in.

Everybody out.

Bingo.

Caruso's calls were being tapped.

That's a thing, right? "Tapped"?

If Caruso's calls were being monitored,

there are bound to be
tapes around here somewhere.

This could be the break that we need.

If Archie's behind this,

I know exactly where to find them.

Come on, gang.

That is on track.

Mr. Mayor, I am so terribly
sorry to interrupt...

he gets a home interview?

And you're serving lemonade.

I'd offer you a glass,

but you're not really
great with liquid, are you?

Shut up, Cancelosi.

All right, Mr. Mayor,

I'm on the receiving end
of some very serious vibes

about your Uncle Archie Baxter,

and we just need to take a look

at some of his personal belongings.

Do you now?

I seem to recall you having

some very serious vibes about me.

Which happened

to be dead wrong and
almost cost me my candidacy.

Good point, Mr. Mayor,
but I made Shawn promise

never to mix politics and
the supernatural ever again.

Yeah, maybe we can put
our differences aside now

for a common goal.

- Yeah.
- Which is what?

Bringing justice to the
memory of Archibald Baxter.

Please, Mr. Mayor.
Indulge us just this once.

We need to see some of
your Uncle's belongings.

You've been awfully quiet
this morning, sweetheart.

Like a silent ninja, which makes me think

you're either planning to
assassinate a Japanese warlord,

or you're giving some
real serious consideration

to taking that job.

Nope.

I've made up my mind.

So you better help solve this
case if you want a hot tub.

Are you sure?

Swagerty might be right.
There's nothing in here.

Myles Velour, Velour de Luxe Volume 1?

What?

Huh.

Why are there two of those?

Because someone recorded over this one.

What the hell is puce? Can't
we just paint it purple?

- Puce is purple, sir.
- Oh, that's fine.

Then paint the office puce.

I like puce very much.

Caruso liked puce.

Let's see what else we got.

Baxter came around again.

That's Scarlett Jones.

He's asking even more questions.

Baby, baby, you worry too much, girl.

He asking about Rodney, right?

Yeah. So far.

That's 'cause he ain't onto us, sugar.

And he ain't never gonna be.

What the hell were we thinking

being out so close to that club?

Now he's got that photograph.

He's probably already made copies.

- Oh, baby, baby.
- Myles, Myles,

are you listening to me?

Holy cow.

The mobster's moll was having an affair

with the cocoa crooner.

This problem of ours isn't
gonna go away on its own, sugar.

I smell what you're cooking now, jellybean,

but I can't get caught
with my cat in the cradle.

Just slip me your keys at the club tonight.

I'll take care of it like I take care

of everything else around here.

I can't believe it.

While trying to uncover corruption

within the SBPD, Archie stumbled

upon a secret that even
he wasn't prepared for.

Caruso's lady was making nighttime noises

with the cocoa crooner.

Since when does he say cocoa?

If Caruso got wind of the
affair, he'd kill them both.

And Scarlett knew that Archie had a picture

proving that their hands were
both up in the cookie jar.

He's in some kind of zone.

Scarlett Jones drugged Archie.

She tailed him out of the Limelighter,

knowing that his faculties
were significantly compromised.

And then like a lady blonde she-viper,

she struck when he was
at his most vulnerable.

Into a watery grave he went.

Watery grave's a nice flourish.

Mm, it's decent at best.

Sure, maybe Archie Baxter
ended up being partially eaten

by freshwater eels, but
it wasn't two weeks later

that Chief Olson Watt
used your Uncle's findings

as the basis to call in the Feds
who then swept organized crime

out of our beloved Santa Barbara for good.

Why didn't Watt tell anyone the truth?

Well, when the Feds took
over the investigation,

they put a gag order on Watt.

He gave his testimony in court,
but that was all he could do.

I'm sure it was very difficult for him.

He died not long after the court case.

Yeah.

I'm sure it haunts him in his grave.

I think we're digressing here.

- What's happening right now?
- Watt's emotions?

No one cares.

As I was saying, Tom,

I'm a scratch golfer, and you're welcome

to take the Tesla for a spin anytime.

Save it, Jim. We're finished here, okay?

Crap.

Lassiter,

I want to see you in my office
first thing in the morning.

We have much to discuss.

I won't mince words, Detective.

I didn't think you had the stones.

Sure, you have an admirable record,

and you've been here forever and a day,

but I was looking for
that certain "it" factor,

which you simply haven't exuded.

Ever. Until yesterday.

Sure, you were pulling most of your leads

straight out of your rumpus,

but once the smoke cleared, you brought me

and what's left of my crappy family

some much needed and serious closure.

For that, I'm...

well, just color me grateful.

Please, Detective Lassiter,

have some lemon water.

Thank you, sir. I was just doing my job.

And you'll be happy to know
that that scaly temptress

Scarlett Jones will be prosecuted

to the fullest extent of the law.

Great.

So let's get on with it.

You're my new chief. Congrats.

And don't get cocky on me.

Thank you, sir.

You have no idea how much this means to me.

- Oh, I think I do.
- And I can assure you,

with the team I've
already assembled on paper,

- the future of this city...
- Easy there, tiger.

I haven't finished laying the land.

Have a seat.

There are conditions.

And believe you me, these
conditions are in place

for your own damn good.

Afternoon, O'Hara.

Good afternoon, Chief.

That was quite an entrance.

That was unexpected, but not unappreciated.

You have long since earned
their respect and admiration,

just in case you were wondering.

- Thanks.
- So how does it feel?

And why aren't you at your desk?

In your chair?

Come on, let's do this.

All right, all right, all right.

All right.

Lassiter.

Chief Lassiter.

All right, all right.

I admit it feels pretty good.

Oh, pretty good? Well, try again.

Feels like a damn bureaucratic screw job,

is what it feels like.

Dedicate your entire life

to one thing that really matters.

Then they tell you you've got to...

Carlton, you want to tell
me what's going on here?

'Cause you're kind of
freaking me out a little.

It's no good, O'Hara.

I can't sit behind that desk
and pretend that I don't want

to be out there with you

watching each other's backs

and raiding some psychopath's den of death.

- Carlton!
- I said it's no good.

It's your lifelong dream.

You read your mother her Miranda rights

at seven years old for
parking in a loading zone.

Do you remember telling me that?

Now you can't tell me that you're actually

getting cold feet about
accepting your birthright.

Swagerty won't let me keep you.

I see.

Self-righteous son of
a bitch is flanking me

with all his own people.

Like I need propping up.
Says it's for my own good,

that I lack experience
in an executive capacity.

He told me to take it or leave it.

You're gonna be transferred.

There's nothing I can do about it.

You're still the chief of police.

What's it worth? You've
never left me out there,

not for one day.

You know you have to do this.

No, I don't. You're still my subordinate,

so you listen to me.

We have spent eight long years

putting our lives in each other's hands.

I have watched you fight. I
have watched you almost die.

But you didn't let me.

That's a two-way street.

I never would have gotten here without you.

You've been so much more than a partner.

You're my confidante.

You've showed me immeasurable patience

and loyalty.

You are very important to me,

Juliet, and I don't always

do a really great job
of letting you know that.

So I'm telling you now.

And you deserve to be this
department's head detective

just as much as I deserve to be its chief.

And I'm not going to do that without you.

So I've made my decision.

Me too.

You inspire me, partner. Always have.

You have believed in me since day one.

You have given me courage and strength

and taught me accountability

and how to ration my ammo in
the event of a nuclear holocaust.

You're welcome for that.

You have a family to think about now.

It's time to turn the page, Carlton.

And you know what, just
knowing you would make

that sacrifice for me gives me...

All the clarity I need.

What the hell are you talking about?

Everything happens for a reason.

I'm going with Karen.

And you are gonna be chief.

And it is all gonna be okay.

Obviously you have to
go, and I understand that.

You have to go, so,
you know, we're gonna do

- whatever it takes.
- Will we?

Maybe you don't come to
San Francisco right away.

You know, maybe you stay here and...

and sort out stuff.

You know, I'll need to get settled anyway,

and it's just five hours
up the interstate, so...

You can say that again.

It barely qualifies as long-distance.

I mean, let's be real.

I could run to you in, like, half a day.

Well, I mean, maybe if you were a train.

Well, you should never
underestimate my caboose.

You know what?

Why don't you stay here tomorrow?

- What?
- I'll drive myself.

- Oh, come on. No way.
- You sleep in. Yes way.

Shawn, I just thrust this on you

without even considering your situation.

I mean, we haven't even
talked about your dad.

But he'll be fine. He has a TV.

I want you to come to San Francisco, I do.

When you're ready. Okay?

Come when you're ready.
That is fair, right?

And reasonable? That's reasonable?

Can you feel me being reasonable?

Because I am kind of
freaking out right now.

Hey. Hey, hey, hey. Come over here.

Come lay next to my body right here.

Put the rest of your
gray pantsuits in the bag,

and then come lay down.

They're not all gray.

They are mostly gray,

and they're money, and I love them.

And I always have. And I love you.

Oh, the alarm is gonna go off so early.

There's 0% chance that I'm gonna hear that,

so you have to shake me hard, you know.

- Okay.
- And I'll help you carry

- your stuff down.
- Okay.

That bag in the corner
is, like, 700 pounds.

It's gonna be 4:30, Shawn.

Gonna have to play that by ear.

We're gonna do whatever it takes.

Okay.

Whatever it takes.

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