All language subtitles for Rosewood.S01E01.HDTV.XviD-FUM

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Yeah, I tried to leave,

but I wasn't sure, and then I looked...

But then I looked up,

and I saw this man come crashing down.

Rosewood. What are you doing here?

And what the hell are you wearing?

- Offering my two cents for free.
- Oh.

Happened to be a few blocks away,
runnin' like rocky.

You know, that's how I start my day.

Why don't you do me a favor...
why don't you run

a few more blocks away from my crime scene,
okay?

What, are you blind?
We got the coroner here.

- Chester.
- Hey!

My man!
Hey, it's your birthday next week, right?

Ignore him.

Yeah... Tuesday.

Dinner's on me. You pick the place.

Rosie, you're encroaching

on a potential murder-scene investigation,
all right?

Now, I got a hooker over here
who likely pushed this guy

off the 15th-floor balcony.

- Buh-bye.
- No, no, Willet. Hold on, now.

It's the weekend in Miami, okay?

You're gonna have a lot
of dead bodies coming in.

The county M.E.'s overwhelmed. Am I right?

- Spot-on.
- Last time... piss off.

You know what?

We got to hang out sometime...

hit the boardwalk,
Rollerblade, double Dutch.

- What do you say?
- No.

Rosie, I'm not rollerblading with you,
all right?

One lap around the body, then I'll go.

Come on. He can use an extra set of eyes.
Am I right?

Yes.

- Please?
- All right, Chester.

One lap, Rosie. That's it.
Then you're gone.

- Chester, lids and lips.
- Copy that.

Lids and lips.

Mm. Yeah. Mm-hmm.

Yeah.

Yep, yep, yep.

This victim suffered
dehydration from vomiting.

The flop sweats prior to his death

is what's causing all the
salt lines in his shirt.

The jaundice turned his eyes
the color of the rising sun.

All caused by what?

Anybody?

No doctors in the house, huh?

Tumor blocking the bile duct...
pancreatic cancer.

Now, here's the theory.
Check it, take it to the bank.

He got diagnosed with a death sentence,
all right?

Got the "rain man" suite, top-dollar escort

for one final night of fun
before he called it a life.

You can let the lady of the night go free.
She didn't kill anybody.

- Oh, and, uh, Willet.
- What's up?

Another body drops on you and
you forget my office number,

turn your handsome head to 3:00.

I take all major credit cards.

- Tuesday.
- Tuesday.

All right.

S01E01
Pilot

sync and corrected by ninh
www.addic7ed.com

Morning, ladies.

Rosie, there you are.
We left you nine messages.

Are you okay? Are you sick?

I have a nasty cold. Did I get you sick?

Was it social? Were you with a lady?

If I know anything about my brother,

he most definitely was hookin' up.

I get it... it's comforting.
But quality over quantity.

'Cause a bachelor's life
is a fine breakfast,

a flat lunch, and a miserable dinner.

Someone famous said that.

Pippy-bear, who said that?

I have no clue, sweetie.

But I do know this, Rosie...
mom and dad are in a tizzy

because you went and skipped
yet another family dinner.

Don't go creating drama before my wedding.

- Our wedding... two people, a union.
- Union.

Will you two settle yourselves?
I was in court,

dealing with my little
traffic-citation situation.

Uh, "little"?

Try "chronic."

I'm so surprised that the judge
didn't just suspend your license.

He tried to, but, you know...

Well, he should've...

out there blowing through
reds like you own the roads.

You'd have more coins to put in the meters

if you spent a little less
on some of these lab toys.

All I'm sayin'.
I reinvest every single dime...

Dime back into the business, yeah, yeah.

Wouldn't have it any other way.

Now, as refreshing as this conversation is,

what do you say we get to work?

Talk to me. What's on the docket?

Half a dozen family consults later today...

all natural causes, nothing flashy.

And the new billboards are up.
They look great... tip-top.

But we got a permit issue
with the one in Coconut Grove.

What's the problem?

My guess... your smile's too damn big.

Really? Which one? This one?

Ugh. Yes.

Tell me you didn't just send
me straight to voice-mail

for the fourth time in the last hour.

Mom,
I was in the middle of my morning rounds.

I don't care if you're in
the middle of World War III.

Obviously,
your mother needs to speak to you.

Uh-oh. What did you do now, bro?

Don't chime in.
I left a message for you, too.

Good morning, Mrs. D.

Hello, my sweetheart.

Now, don't distract me.

What did I do?

He's the one who missed
family dinner and church...

- again.
- Thank you.

Just calm your body.

Nobody did anything.

I need your help.

I paid the transfer fees

to have a body sent over
from the county morgue.

She was an ex-student of mine...
graduated in '09.

Nora Grayson.

She died yesterday in a car crash.

Her S.U.V. went over the guardrail,
into the ocean.

I'm sorry, mom.

Yeah, are you okay?

I'm gonna be fine.

But her mother is not doing very well.

Nora had so much potential...

a voice like you wouldn't believe.

26 years I've been at Fillmore,
she was the...

she was the best soprano
I had in the choir.

Child shouldn't have even been in Miami.

Should have been on an "a"
train heading to Juilliard.

The county did their autopsy.
Why are you sending her to me?

Because something's not
sitting well with her family...

or with me.

Nora hated driving.

There's no way in hell

that she's gonna be going
90 miles an hour on 395

at midnight.

Mom, with all due respect
to you and to Nora's family,

I mean,
it sounds like a hunch at best to me.

Are you sure that you want me to...

I think she's sure.

Nora Grayson, age 23.

County path reports... fire away.

Blood-alcohol was .06,
head trauma and drowning.

From the looks of it, they didn't run
her through the full tox and labs.

May you rest.

Showtime.

Dr. Beaumont Rosewood Jr., June 26th.

Time... 11:15 a.m.

Exam on Nora Grayson is under way.

TMI, fly the fluids and toxies.

Copy that.

Swab.

TMI, shoot Chester an e-mail.

Find out if the county
tested the black residue

in Nora's nasal cavity.

Mm-hmm. On it.

Black-light my world.

Oh, wow.

Looks like we hit the jackpot.

Low platelets causing petechia.

Let's run blood splits.

Lights.

Scalpel.

Run a biopsy on that tissue.
I think the skin necrotized.

- Cellulitis?
- Gangrene?

Maybe both, so run the...

- Biopsy.
- Biopsy.

Thank you.

Fast-track everything and
call me with the results.

Where the hell are you going?

To see our friends at
the police department.

Hey. Hey, tell the missus I said hello,
all right?

The club this Saturday
night's gonna be on fire!

Detective Willet. Long time no see.

How are the wife and kids?

They hate me, and I hate you.

- Hey, you want to hear something exciting?
- No.

Nora Grayson, single car crash.
I noticed that the foot...

Not my case anymore.

Got kicked to a new transfer from NYPD...
Detective Villa.

Hmm. Newbie from New York.

I'm sure he can't wait to meet me.

Well, he's a she.

Ooh! Even better.

Detective Villa.

Got to eat fruit... lots of fruit.

It'll help kill that smoking habit
before it kills you.

Do we know each other?

Dr. Beaumont Rosewood Jr...
considered by some

to be the Beethoven of
private pathologists.

Did you really just say that out loud?

I also consult the police department.

You can call me Rosewood,

Rosie, Rosie bag o' bones.

Dr. Rosewood, can I help you with anything?

- Yeah, I'd like to welcome you to Miami.
- Mm.

If you need a gentleman's tour,
I'd like to offer my services.

I was born and raised here. But thanks.

Well, welcome back.

Can we talk Nora Grayson?

I was hired to do a second,
more thorough autopsy.

Now, the findings may surprise you.

The county's report was sufficient.

Detective, I've got arguably
the most sophisticated

pathology compound this side of the Pecos.

Or on the other side of the Pecos,
if you want to break it down like that.

Wow.

Okay.

Is there anything else I should know?

Oh, yes.

I can read the shells of
the living and the dead

the same way you might read
those mindless young-adult novels

to help conquer your crippling insomnia.

I hate young-adult novels,

and...
How would you know if I have insomnia?

Myokymia.

You have a slight spasm in your left eye.

Doctor, it's been a pleasure.

Hmm.

How was the workout? I'm exhausted.

Nora Grayson was murdered.

Based on what?

Based on my initial examination

that suggests her death was no accident.

I'm listening.

Oh. I've got your attention.

How about I tell you on the way to question

whoever it was that saw her alive last?

No, how about you tell me now
and I'll take it from here,

since I'm the cop and
you're the medical examiner?

"Private pathologist," thank you.

Purpura.

It's the tissue damage often
seen on the palms of the hands

when someone's holding on for dear life.

Nora showed no signs of that.

There are also contusions
on the back of her hand,

which suggest that her arms were limp

at the time of the accident.

You're saying she was unconscious.

Oh, you catch on fast. I like it.

I also believe that her
foot was held on that gas

by a foreign object.

Nora was driving alone
at a high rate of speed.

She lost control and crashed.

There's no evidence
that her foot was weighed down by anything.

Oh, so, you're really not getting it,

so I'll tell you what...
why don't you dig a little deeper

and then call me when
you're ready to get serious?

Professionally, of course.

And since when did the commute
from your place to my place

take over an hour?

Well, unlike Beyonce,
I don't wake up like this.

Mm.

Why are your feathers all ruffled?

Oh, I'm sorry.
I'm dealing with this new detective.

She won't reopen Nora's case

even though I hit her
with all my good stuff.

Ooh... did that include

the "Beethoven of private pathology" thing?

Yeah, I included that, yeah.

And that didn't work. Mm. Wonder why.

She was impressed by that, okay? Trust me.

Is she your type?

I am not trying to date the new detective,
okay?

Rosie,
you are trying to date the new anything.

I'm looking to connect with new people,
okay? Because that's what I do.

I like to inspire and be
inspired by everything around me,

and that includes new
employees at the Miami P.D.

Puh-lease.

You know who you sound like, right?

Oh!

Okay, well, speaking of our mother,

she's called me four times looking for you,
wanting to know

if you've gotten your sleep
and if you've taken your meds.

- Seriously?
- Yeah.

I don't know why you act all surprised.

You know she gets overprotective
in the wake of a tragedy.

Well, I'll call her later,

but right now, can we please do some work?

- Yeah.
- I'm trying to figure out

what kept Nora's foot on that gas pedal.

This X-ray is clean and useless.

I got it.

I got it.

Call TMI... tell her to hit the lab

and test that skin sample
for carbon dioxide.

Okay, but it's gonna be a while.

My baby is at the pole-dancing class,

prepping for our honeymoon.

* Ow! Ow! *

I really didn't need to know that.

* Wooka-woo, wooka... *
You shouldn't be a hater.

Pole da...
uggggh.

Take your fruit and leave.

Come on. Take the peaches.
They're in season.

Oh, and I'm definitely not leaving

until you tell me what's up with that.

Salsa competition in Brooklyn.

We won first place.

Goodbye.

Interesting.
Who's the guy in the tight pants?

My husband and... without question...

the sexiest man I've ever
shared the floor with.

Now, will you go?

Soon, soon.

Have to ask...
why does the youngest beat cop

ever promoted to detective at the NYPD

move back to Miami?

The big apple has better pay,

- it has...
- Dr. Rosewood.

It takes a rare bird to be
the best in your profession,

and you have a love affair with death.

Tell me why, and I'll explain
my reasons for coming home.

Okay.

I have this recurring dream
about a young child growing up,

getting married, and having kids.

But because I met him in my
lab after he was murdered,

he's never gonna live out
those phases of his life.

And it's those moments,

it's those amazing
moments that are stolen...

that's what drives me.

Your turn.

M-maybe some other time.

Dr. Rosewood, e...
I think you should leave.

I figured out how the killer

got Nora's S.U.V. to fly down that freeway.

See that?

It's not a bruise on
the top of Nora's foot.

It's a burn... frostbite.

Maybe her body was stored in a freezer
before being placed in the vehicle.

Negative.

You're about to throw
out some scientific term

I've never heard before, right?

Chilblains... yes.
Ulceratic blisters on the skin.

Now, if Nora's body was stored
in the freezer, we'd see...

say it with me...

- chilblains.
- Chilblains.

That's right. We do not.

Then how could she have frostbite?

The water temp when they
pulled her out was 75 degrees.

Dry ice.

The killer put a block of
dry ice on Nora's foot,

holding it to the gas pedal.

It dissolved when it went into the water.

So, do we have enough to reopen the case?

I'll file the request in the morning.

Oh, thank you.

Do we have a prime suspect?

I have a prime suspect.

We don't have anything.

Ohh. Okay. I get it, I get it.

So this is the type of thing
where I scratch your back,

but then I kind of got to do the thing

where I reach in the middle
and scratch my own back.

- Mm-hmm.
- It's like that, huh?

It's exactly like that.

Mm.

Okay.

Okay.

Really?

Carlos Gomez...

Nora's ex-boyfriend and our prime suspect.

They met at this hotspot called peel,
where Nora used to work.

It's kind of like an all-day,
all-night, outdoor club of sorts.

I'm a huge fan.

Anyway, her best friend told
me they had a nasty breakup.

You know, keep following me,

and I'm gonna drag you
back to your ridiculous car

and cuff you to the steering wheel.

Now, Villa, you need to relax, you know?

I realize we haven't been partners...

Oh, we're not partners.
Let's get that straight.

Yet... we are not partners yet,
but the future looks good.

T-there's no future with us.

Carlos! Hold it right there!

Oh!

Ohh!

Unh!

You broke my nose!

Damn right I did.

Aah! Ohh!

It's undeniable... we make a great team.

I haven't Nora seen in Weeks, okay?

I didn't kill her. I loved her.

Yeah? Then why run and take
a ladylike swing at a cop?

Because I'm on probation.

I got a dime of weed and some
"x" in my bag.

- Why is this dude staring at me?
- Rosewood, I'm not gonna ask you again.

- Go wait outside.
- I'm not a child.

And I have an ace.

Then play it and get out of here.

Okay, okay, get away from me!

Stop smelling the suspect.

You know, this is... this is really weird.

Look,
I'm not really sure that this is legal,

- so maybe we should...
- Oh, it's legal. She's the real deal.

Hablas espanol, no?

Oh! Are you speaking Spanish?

You know,
I took Spanish in the third grade...

soaked it up like a sponge.

Entiendo todo.
I understand everything you're saying.

Go ahead.

Look, I spoke to Nora's friends.

I know she was disappearing
for days at a time.

You thought she was cheating, right?

See, I think she came over here

and she looked amazing.

You know?

You push your anger aside,

and... I don't know...
you guys start kissing.

But the thought of
another man's lips on hers

is too much.

And you snapped.

You threw something at her,
and it slammed into your TV.

You got carried away and killed her,
didn't you?

Made it look like she
died in a car accident?

Yes.

I-I-I mean, no.

I threw something, but not at her. I swear.

Carlos, almond butter...
where's your almond butter?

I need you to shut up.

Uh, 'scuse me. This is my case, too, okay?

And I need you to stop showing
off with the bilingual stuff.

Last chance... when did you see Nora?

I told you... two weeks ago.

Sub-gastric enhancer.

It's a high-end pathology toy,

tells me everything a victim ingested

within a matter of hours, not days.

It's my ace in the hole.

Nora's last supper consisted of saltines,
almond butter,

and she washed it down with a whiskey sour

just hours prior to her death.

Now, is this a coincidence

that you have all this stuff stocked?

I don't think so.

So, again,

when's the last time you saw Nora?

Okay. Okay.

I saw her the night that she died.

But I'm telling you that I didn't kill her.

I was drinking, I passed out.
I don't remember anything.

Carlos, you're under arrest
for the murder of Nora Grayson.

Oh, man.

Told you she was the real deal.

Hey, babe. Are you gonna give
me the microgs per mill or what?

2.6 blood. Your tone sucks.

1.1 urine. I don't appreciate it.

Well, Rosie's been asking
for these results all day,

and don't act like you haven't been
dragging your adorable little feet.

Say "adorable" again.

Hey, Rosie.

Nora was definitely drugged.

I got it. Thank you. Love you. Bye.

Hey, Villa, hold up.

Geez. What is it now?

Hey, Carlos, you got a rash on your ass...

you know, itchy skin,
lower back, ass cheeks?

Yeah, I asked for a lawyer.

- Hey, come on. I'm trying to help you out.
- Yeah.

Lift up his shirt. Let me see his stomach.

Boom! All right, big Carlos.

Someone slipped drugs into
your drink the other night.

That's the reason why you
got a rash on your ass

and all those spots on your stomach.

It's called petechia.

It's common in leukemia patients,

but it also shows up in
people that are pill poppers.

Wow. Say that five times fast.

- I was drugged?
- Yeah, Ketamine... horse tranquilizers.

My lab just confirmed
it was in Nora's system.

It was also in yours.

I know you're telling the truth.

Yeah... thank you, man.

I'm... I'm...
I'm sorry that I yelled at you.

It's all good. It's all good.

But let's not forget Nora.
She lost her life.

Always remind yourself
that each day is a gift.

That'll help you on your path

to being a better man
and less of a jackass.

Yeah, well, I hear you, bro.

- You hear me?
- Yeah.

All right, bring it in for the real thing.

Oh, you got to be kidding me. Break it up!

Carlos,
who could've slipped you guys the drugs?

I don't know. I mean, it was just us.

- Did she bring the whiskey with her?
- Yeah.

How about the guy you suspected
she was having an affair with?

I just know that it was some older dude.

Uh, I didn't ask anything about him,

and I don't know his name.

We're back to square one.

Look, mom,
I can't just pull evidence out of thin air.

We just hit a wall right now.

Well, I guess that's it, isn't it?

'Cause I know how these things go down.

Without a lead,

and the cops move on to other cases,

and you move on to yet another body.

I'm gonna blink, and Nora's gonna be

just another file in some dusty basement.

I'm not gonna let that happen, mom.

Son...

This girl was special.

She had a gift...
a passion for life and for people.

She always saw the good before the bad.

Like someone else I know.

I get it.

You don't have to give me
the extra push on this one.

Nora meant so much to you,
so she means the world to me.

Then what are you standing here for?

Go find what you're missing.

Nora's hair got darker on the table.

Yeah, it went from real
blond to a dirty-ish blond

in the 24 hours she's been with us.

Hair and nail growth after death is normal.

Color change after death is super-weird.

Villa, check that follicle
sample under that microscope.

Look blue?

Yeah... blue. That's weird.

Why blue?

Meclizine hydrochloride.

It's found in motion-sickness meds.

My toxicology queen.

So you're saying Nora was on a...
boat or plane or what?

Meclizine saturates
anything made of keratin.

That's our hair, our nails.

A few days without oxygen,

it turns from crystal clear to Navy blue.

That's what happened to Nora's hair.

Nora was taking meds daily,

which means she was taking trips regularly.

Wait a second...
one of the items in Nora's purse

was a monthly pass to
the Golden Harbor Marina.

Which means she was visiting
someone an awful lot.

Pass means security.
Security means admission logs.

Admission logs mean the name
of the person she was visiting.

- Boom!
- Boom!

According to marina security,

Nora was visiting a boat
called the Blue Izzy.

It's registered to a 60-year-old
ex-con named Arthur Briggs.

Sounds like the guy Nora
was having an affair with.

Briggs has been out of prison
for four years with no run-ins.

Well, he's about to run into us today.

He's running into me today.

You're staying on this boat
until your talents are needed.

Talents? You think I'm talented?

I'm serious, Rosie. It's too dangerous.

Rosie!

You just called me Rosie...
Rosie and talented.

That was really nice and partner-like.

It just warms my heart.
That's all I'm saying.

It warms my heart.

Arthur Briggs! This is Detective Villa!

I need to ask you a few questions!

Arthur!

What the hell am I looking at?

Cocaine mixed with fillers...

plastic being one of them.

It reeks of PVC.

Found the same brand of
blow in Nora's nasal cavity.

Hey, Willet. Nice tie.

All right, here's how it went down.

Nora needed the money.
She saw an opportunity.

Arthur could buy her silence,

or she rats his drug
business out to the cops.

Detective, he killed her,

and then, out of guilt,
he took his own life.

It's done and done.

It doesn't hold.

The Blue Izzy hasn't moved in two years.

Nora wouldn't be taking
motion-sickness meds

if she was on a boat that never set sail.

And this black cocaine
sitting under a table

feels like a plant.
I think this was murder.

I want to expedite an autopsy.

All right,
you don't want to bill the city $6,500

for Rosewood to rush an autopsy

unless you're positive
the guy was murdered.

Actually, it's $7,500... for the rush job.

And, uh, I vote yes.

You don't get a vote.

All right, it's your call, Villa.

But I know nothing about it.

Please tell me you got something.

Looks like Arthur blew his brains out.

You find anything yet?
Because I got something.

Nope. Still looks like
Arthur blew his brains out.

Arthur had an active captain's license.

He lied on his application,

and they issued him one last year,

so he was manning a boat...
just not his boat.

And I spoke to Arthur's ex-wife.

He had a daughter around Nora's age

that passed away five
years ago from cancer.

I don't think he was being blackmailed.

I think he was helping
a young girl in trouble.

Why are you looking at me like that?

Because,
while all of this is mildly interesting,

it doesn't help me.

I need time to review my autopsy results,

because, as of right now,

it still looks like
Arthur committed suicide.

Are you asking me to leave?

No, no, of course not, but I'm sure

your husband wouldn't mind
seeing you for the first time

in... I don't know... 36 hours?

Oh, look... the door.

Wow.

Okay. Nice.

So, you want to know why I got
promoted so fast in New York?

Because I put everything second to my job.

But the burning question today is,

why are you so obsessed with your work?

It's not just about the victims.

What you do and why you do
it runs deeper than that.

It's strange to have so many pills

in a place where the people that roll in
have lost their ability to swallow.

You want to know what I think?

I'm on the edge of my seat.

I think I was right.

You are obsessed with death,

and I think that obsession
has something to do

with all these pills you're dining on.

You know what?
Call me when you're ready to get serious.

Professionally, of course.

Warfarin.

It's an anticoagulant for people
with congenital heart defects.

Was Arthur on it?

No.

I am.

I've got a pair of holes in my heart.

Santyl to prevent aneurysms in
my constantly bleeding brain,

Daylin for the calcifying of my eardrums,

which means the music dies
for me in the next decade.

Had my first stroke when I was 11,

my second when I was 21.

I have a shaky hand to prove it.

Botulinum toxin...
never leave home without it.

Helps steady... The tremble.

What happened to you?

Let's just say there's a reason

why babies hang out in
the womb for nine months.

My anxious ass rode out in six...

four months in the neonatal
intensive-care unit

and a body laced with issues.

So... Yes.

I have a unique relationship with death,

but it has never been my obsession.

My obsession is with every breath I take.

And who knows...
maybe I'll be able to diagnose myself

before the next bomb in my body goes...

boom.

- Pippy!
- Yeah?

Check for nodules.

Check for what?

Hand nodules! Check for hand nodules!

Okay, why are you yelling?

You know that makes me flustered.

Highlight the joints.

Bang.

Rheumatoid arthritis.

Those hot spots you see are nodules...

very early signs of disease.

Arthur had vulnerable blood vessels.

So, what are you saying?

I'm saying that,
had he fired a 9-millimeter weapon,

I'd see discoloration in his skin.

I do not.

I see discoloration. Check monitor 3.

I'm awesome.

Okay.

Peel beach club.

That's where Nora used to work.

A 60-year-old man rolling
to a hot spot like that...

- that's worth checking out.
- I'd say so.

And guess who happens to know
someone at that establishment

who could help us out in a big way.

- You.
- Me.

Him.

You sure about this Joo-Joo guy?

Yeah, he's connected.
He knows people's business.

If Arthur was here, he'll know why.

Coming up. You got it.

Joo-Joo, my man!

Ohhhh!

Dr. Rosie?

Hey, come on in here, man, drink it up.

What's mine is yours.

Daisy, sling a virgin-virgin for my V.I.P.

Yo, you want me to hook you
up with some swim trunks, bro?

Nah, no dip for me today, Joo-Joo.

This is Dective Villa.

We're not gonna stay long...
just strictly business.

What kind of business? Risky business?

See this girl right here? Nora Grayson.

She was murdered. Tell me about her.

Check it... I don't know that
girl in any capacity, okay?

Your heart looks like it's racing, Joo-Joo.

Are you lying to me?

Rosie, I thought we were friends.

You bringing the fuzz up in here
to ruin my day off like this?

Okay, look, forget about the girl.

How about a guy named Arthur Briggs?

He came in to see somebody on her behalf.
Now he's dead.

Who'd he come to see?

Bro, you tryin' to get me killed
asking me questions like this?

I got a wife and kids

and a chick on the side to think about.

Come on, now!

Look, Rosie,
it's my turn to play with Joo-Joo.

Your turn? He barely even got his turn.

Rosie, put a leash on this chick, man.

Oh, no, no, no, no, he's gonna hang tight

and sip on his virgin-virgin
like a gentleman.

- Isn't that right, Rosie?
- This is good.

I don't know squat about some dead girl

or some old dead dude.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa.
We never said Arthur was old.

I assumed it.

Now scatter back.
I have to get my massage on.

Stressing me out like this.

Damn.

Look, let me talk to Joo-Joo one-on-one.

No, no, no. I'll go talk to him one-on-one.

Get out of here.

Now you playing with fire.

- Stay down!
- Aah!

Bow that tiny head of yours.

Let us pray.

Pray? To who? Are you insane?

Dear God, Joo-Joo would like to ask

if your holy hands will kindly grace him,

shake the truth from his lying lips

as he kneels before us
like a scared little bitch.

You need help from a pro.

Say amen. Don't disrespect the lord.

A-amen, okay? Amen.

Now you're gonna tell
me everything you know.

Otherwise,
I'm gonna drag you back to the jacuzzi

and baptize your shifty ass

in a very unchristian sort of way.

A-aah!

Now you want to start talking?

Hey, be honest... did you kill Joo-Joo?

No,
but we bonded in a meaningful way.

I don't want to know what that means,

but I do want to know what he said.

Arthur Briggs came here to
see a guy named Prince Mendez.

Oh, yeah... Deejay Prince 305.

Prince rents a yacht called the Sunseeker.

He hosts parties on the
boat to cozumel and back.

My money says he heads
there to pick up his supply.

Arthur was the captain.

Nora was one of the hostesses on the boat.

Well, let's go talk to prince.

Oh, I'm going... tomorrow night.

He's hosting a lavender party on the boat.

Perfect opportunity to take a
look around without a warrant.

Lavender... now you're speaking my color.

And you know I've earned
an invite to the party.

And I know you're gonna show up anyway.

True. But your blessing would be nice.

9:00 p.m. sharp at the
Golden Harbor Marina.

Ooh.

Plenty of time to go shopping.

Is that my hat?

Was your hat. You left it at the office.

And it looks better on me, anyway.

You wish.

I thought you said it was a lavender party,
anyway.

No, detective Villa said
it was a lavender party.

And she also said it's
at the Golden Harbor,

which I happen to know
has noise restrictions.

She's trying to send me
on a little goose chase,

but she's gonna have to be a
hell of a lot savvier than that

to shake me.

Mm.

I told you...
you've got a thing for the new detective.

Pipp, I have a job to do, okay?

And, as we both know,
this one's very personal.

And she has a husband.

All right, listen, I'm out, bro.

But please... don't get yourself killed

while catching the bad guy tonight,
all right?

Miami, Miami, where you at?!

Hey, yo, check it... I'm Deejay Prince 305.

William H. Hazy is next,
mix-man sloppy thirds to follow.

I'll circle around for an encore,

but in the meantime...

Magic city,
let's make some very bad decisions tonight!

Prince.

What's up with that dance we talked about?

Ah, girl, you are persistent.

Can you blame me?

Come on, papi.

You're not gonna want to
take your hands off me.

Okay, I'll see what you got.

Give me one second. I'm gonna freshen up.

I'm not waiting around.

I won't be long. I promise.

Uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huh.
What are you doing?!

Surprised I figured out your little game,
huh?

You're an unarmed pathologist.

I'm trying to help you not get killed.

Excuse me... I'm the reason

why you're here in the first place, okay?

Now, how long you been here? And don't lie.

Long enough to set the table.
Now get out of here.

Oh, you want to dance? You want to dance?

I can dance. You want to dance?

You are a huge pain in my ass!
You know that?

Well, get used to the pain.

Come on. Tag me in.

Look, I went into the main
cabin to use the bathroom,

and prince has two guys guarding
the stairs to the lower deck.

He's protecting something.

I need to get down there, see what I see.

Well, how you gonna swing that?

Call in a noise complaint,

get a black-and-white out here,
distract Prince,

hopefully draw his guys
away from their post

while I take a look around.

Oh, okay, then the cops make him nervous,

he shuts the whole thing
down and sails off to Mexico.

No bueno.

Then I'll find another way down there,

but it will not involve you.

How about you find another way down there

that does involve me?

Rosie, no.

Villa, yes.

Come on. Let's do this.

Deejay Prince to the 3 to the 0 to the 5.

What's happening, man?

Hey. Uh, hey, can I help you?

Actually, you can help me, man.
I'm a big fan.

I want you to spin at my sister's wedding.

It's a $100,000 affair at the Zen House.

Now, come on. What do you say?

I'll float you a deposit
right now if you in.

No. Why don't you scram?

Come on. You don't believe in love?

No, I don't believe in dudes I
don't know coming on my boat.

Now get down there with the scrubs.

Okay, you know what?
I can respect that. I-I-I can. I can.

You know what?
Can I just hop on the mic one time?

Come on. I always wanted to do it, man.
Come on.

Hell no.

One time. Hold up.

How you doin', Miami?!

Dr. Rosie in the house!

Who's your favorite private pathologist?!

Hey, hey! Have you lost your mind?!

Have you lost...

Call an ambulance.

Yeah, yeah, g-get the boys

and get this drama off my boat.

Hey, big sexy.

I think I got to use the
bathroom like two minutes ago.

Not here... upper deck.

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa. Help me out.

Help me out here, man. I need some juice.

My glycemic index is crashing. Come on.

Come on. don't make me call 911.
Just give me some juice.

Get this dude some juice... quickly.

Good lookin' out. Good lookin' out.

Appreciate it.

Yeah.

Hey, big man. Let me return the favor.

You might want to get that
spot on your neck checked out.

Pretty soon,
it's gonna bloom into full-blown carcinoma,

and you don't want that.

What are you, a doctor?

I dabble.

So sad there's no future for you and me.

And I had high hopes.

My backup is already on the way.

I know you killed Nora.

I knew it before I saw
that burn on your hand...

from the dry ice.

She was one of your party girls, right?

You sail out to Mexico,
pick up this cocaine.

If the D.E.A. comes aboard, all they see

is a boat loaded with
records and pretty ladies.

You know,
it doesn't matter if I killed her.

By the time your help gets here,
you'll be dead, too,

and I'll be on that cigarette boat

waiting for me by the bridge.

Bitch, you better fall back
before you get this girl killed!

Okay, Prince! We're cool!

Now put the gun down and let me be gone!

Do it!

Me again!

Hey, Prince.

Botulinum toxin... BTX for short.

Injected under the epidermis,

and you're looking years younger.

Injected into your bloodstream,

and it feels like every nerve
in your body is on fire.

Now, once I inject the full dose,

it's gonna feel like your
spinal cord's spinning

like razor blades.

So release the gun
before I inject the rest.

Come on!

There you go, 305. There you go.

You got nothing on me, lady cop.

They're never gonna pin
those murders on me.

Why don't you check your pocket?

I left you a little something
during our special dance.

It's my Bluetooth.

I gave 911 dispatch a
call about 10 minutes ago.

I had them hang on the line,
record everything

just in case you said anything juicy.

Turns out you did!

Come on, now. Come on.
That was sweet, right?

You and I working together as a team.

You and I together?
I'm the Yin, you're the Yang?

You're oil, I'm water.

And we got lucky.

We got him.

Oh, son.

Thank you.

I like to have a milkshake
when I solve a big case.

You like milkshakes?

Everyone likes milkshakes.

So, what do you say? My treat.

Thanks, but I'll take a rain check.

Rain check? Now, you know that
means we have to team up again.

And...

"Ocean Point Baptist Church."

They offer a grief-recovery
group there every Friday.

I used to send families there
after they lost a loved one.

Your husband died, didn't he?

That's why you transferred back home.

What happened to him?

Nine months ago,
he ran a marathon in Central Park.

Pizza, movie, bed...
that was our Sunday routine.

He slept like a baby that night.

The next morning, he... he got up,

put on his favorite suit...

kissed me goodbye...

and collapsed.

Pulmonary embolism.

Gone before he hit the floor.

When you
lo the love of yourife,

it... it makes you love life less.

Say that five times fast.

Villa, I'm sorry.

Had I known that I would't be saying that.

No. don't worry about it.

It's okay.

Rosie, what are you really doing here?

The case is closed.

Came to offer you a groupon...

a two-for-one autopsy special at my lab.

The Beethoven of private pathologists

is offering a discount?

Yes, but only on your cases.

All those other detectives
can kiss my talented ass.

A smile.

I'm gonna leave while you're still smiling.

Oh, and, Villa...

If you ever forget what I look like,

just turn south.

I accept all major credit cards.

sync and corrected by ninh
www.addic7ed.com

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