All language subtitles for Last.Looks.2021.1080p.AMZN.WEBRip.DDP5.1.x264-TEPES-English.ke

What's missing
from this picture?

We'll start with extraction,

which is a fancy word
for trashing the planet.

But this looks like
is we chop down the trees,

we blow up the mountains
to get the metals inside

and use up all the water,

and we wipe out the animals.

We are running out
of resources.

Now, I know this can be hard
to hear, but it's the truth.

So we've got to deal with it.

In the past
three decades alone,

one-third of the planet's
natural resource space

has been consumed.

Gone.

We are cutting and mining
and hauling

and trashing the place so fast
that we're undermining

the planet's very ability
for people to live here.

We have 5%
of the world's population,

but we're using 30%
of the world's resources.

If everybody consumed
at U.S. rates,

we would need
three to five planets.

And you know what?

We've only got one.

Oh, my God.

You live in that?

Seriously?

Does your chicken have a name?

Chicken.

Chicken?

Chicken.

Where's all your stuff?

I divested.

Cut myself down
to a hundred things.

What do you mean,
a hundred things?

Shirt's one thing,
bowl's one thing,

fork, sleeping bag, chicken.

And you kept that hat?

Tell me you at least have a gun.

Jesus, Waldo.

When's the last time
you had anybody up here?

Three years.

You got any friends?

Chicken.

Wow.

What the fuck is that?

I bought the land
from a sculptor.

Sure, because this spoke to you,
right?

Remember that time
we were supposedly "broken up"?

I ran into you outside
the art museum on Wilshire.

I was on a date.

I ditched the guy.

We went straight to your truck
in the parking structure.

It was right next to
the La Brea Tar Pits.

By the mammoths.

Okay.

First of all,
this isn't a mammoth.

It's an elephant.

Second of all, you're saying
I bought this property

because I had a subconscious
sexual memory

prompted by this sculpture.

Which you brought me straight to
the minute I came to visit you.

Uninvited.

Look, I'm here on business.

- Alastair Pinch, the actor...
- Killed his wife.

Look, maybe he killed her,
maybe he didn't.

I don't think he even knows.
The guy's a blackout drunk.

The network's got a lot riding
on him,

so they're paying
for his lawyer.

So he did kill her.

It means the money's serious.

They're looking to hire a P.I.

This gig could jump me
to the majors.

If I could deliver the famous
Charlie Waldo

to work it with me...

Come on.

You know these Hollywood types.

They always want to put
a big name in it.

I'm retired.

I see that.

From the force.

I'd be willing to go 80/20,
yours.

What would I even do
with the money?

Buy a nicer hundred things.

'Cause then my life
would be complete?

Exactly.

Pass.

Lydell was a long time ago.

Lorena.

You don't have to
keep punishing yourself.

You don't have to
live like this.

You don't have to
live like that.

Fuck, you expect me
to apologize?

Hey, I grew up poor.

For-real poor,
not with solar panels.

Bye.

Come on, let me bring you back
into the real world.

Just for a few weeks.
We'll have some laughs.

I can't.

All right.
It was worth a shot.

Can I have a hug at least?

You ghosted me, Waldo.

I ghosted everybody.

I know.

You smell better than you look.

You can't stay up here forever.

No? Why not?

Same reason you and I
kept hooking back up.

Unfinished business is a bitch.

Things are not looking good

for celebrated actor
Alastair Pinch.

He's under renewed scrutiny
by the LAPD

regarding the murder
of his wife,

Monica Pinch, two weeks ago.

Investigators say they are
focusing their inquiries

on the actor himself
as the prime suspect.

Jesus, Waldo.

You know, you shouldn't do that.

Call a cop.

Lorena Nascimento was out here
a couple days ago, huh?

Oh, yeah? I'd have to check
my visitor's log.

Don't jerk me.

She's been scoping you
for the Pinch murder.

That dumb bastard's
the least of her worries.

She say anything about Don Q?

Is he a game show host?

Captain of industry.

A recreational pharmaceutical
industry.

Your girl's on his payroll.

That sounds like bullshit.

Oh, that's not bullshit.

You check out her ride?

Where do you think she gets
that kind of cheese?

Where does a cop with four kids
get the cheese for a 'Vette?

- Ha-ha-ha.
- You dropped this.

Fucking dick.

Anyway, she took something
that belonged to Don Q.

Not exactly
the healthiest lifestyle choice.

And what I think is she came up
here to leave it with you.

Leave what?

And if you're smart,
you will give it to me.

I don't know what it is.
I haven't seen her.

Stop wasting my time, man.

The last thing she did
on a computer

was Google Map this ass pile.

The last call on her cell
was from Idyllwild.

What do you mean last call?

There a missing-persons open?

Hell no.

That would require
somebody gave a shit.

What?

Oh, Jesus.

This is Lorena.

You can leave a message,

but if you want me
to call you back,

you better make it interesting.

Fuck you, Lorena.

Damn!

Yo, hit him again.

Come on.
Hit him again.

- Hit him.
- Ooh!

Oh, he gonna
fuck your white ass up.

Hit him again.
Hit him again.

Wait, wait, wait!

Here we go.
Hit him again.

Whatever the problem is here,

let's see if we can...
communicate.

Is that a purse?

It's a Bottega, motherfucker.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit. What the fuck
did you hit him with?

Yeah. Yeah.

Yo, come on, big man.

Bam, then that's it.

That's the one.

Come on, big fella.

- Oh, that's it. That's it.
- What do you morons want?

Hey, hold on, hold on, hold on.

Relax, big man.

We want you to stay your ass up
on this motherfucking mountain.

And stay away from
Alastair Pinch.

Yeah. That's right.
And if you don't,

you gonna get more visits from

the Palisade Posse,
motherfucker.

The fuck is wrong with him?

Help me up.

Come on.

Yo, what are you doing?

He's asking for help.

What the fuck are you doing?

I hate to break it
to you, boys...

I've got nothing to do
with Alastair Pinch.

Bullshit.

You work for the network.
It's in the trades.

Let me see.

Boom.

It's upside-down, moron.

Yeah, that's right.

What the fuck?

Knock him out, dawg.
Come on.

Just stay your hillbilly ass
out of L.A., bitch.

This is Lorena.
You can leave a message,

but if you want me
to call you back,

you better make it interesting.

The mailbox is full

and cannot accept new messages
at this time.

Mr. Waldo.

Wilson Sikorsky,
head of the network.

Hop in. You know Fontella Davis,
Alastair Pinch's attorney?

Never had the pleasure.

Hold on. Hang on.
Hang on.

No.
No, I'm not paying him $40,000.

I'll pay him $25,000.
He should be kissing my balls.

What was the last series he had?

Two years, he'll be playing
Sasquatch

on the Discovery Channel.

Hey, why would you
put in the trades

that I was working
for your network?

Mr. Waldo, when you land a star,

you don't hide him
under your ass.

You tell the whole
fucking world.

You were the youngest ever
captain of the LAPD.

Did we get that right?

Youngest Detective III.

Yeah, close enough.
We want you to start right away

even though Lorena Nascimento
seems unavailable.

She's missing. When's the last
time you talked to her?

No. No.
Fuck no.

That I can work with.
Then you do your homework.

She's gonna be
exactly like a mother.

- You have kids, Mr. Waldo?
- No.

I'm gonna give you my cellphone.

Don't call the office.
My new assistant's a fuckwit.

But call me day or night,
though.

I got to get this tied up.

You may or may not be aware
I'm facing a takeover.

And I won't you on NCN
with me tonight.

I assume you know
how to find a barbershop.

Hey, guys.

Thing is, I never told Lorena
I'd do this.

Sorry.

So I tell you
my nuts are in a vise,

you give them an extra turn?

You want more money,
just have your reps call me.

The show's worth twice now
what it used to be.

This murder thing has done
wonders for the ratings.

I could probably get
$6 mill an ep,

but, you know,
I got to have 100 episodes,

and I only got 57.

So I need two more years
of... watch the cable...

Alastair Pinch healthy,
happy, and off of death row.

I can't take this.

I only own 100 things.

If I take that,
it's gonna be 101, you know?

Not really.

Well, it's complicated.

Let's go with
one of the other P.I.s.

I know we said we needed
to create distraction.

But this?
Come on.

Big fan of your work too.

A real P.I., one that knows
how to do the job,

- not just some has-been.
- All right. Look.

Hey, hey, hey. Shh.

I'm only here to tell you
to put out a press release

that says I'm not involved,
all right?

That I turned it down.
Can you do that?

This is the hottest gig in town.

Everybody's chasing it.

Here's what I'll do.
I'll introduce you to Alastair.

I'll pay you for the day whether
you take the case or not.

Excuse me.
Hey. Yeah. No. I'm on...

What was Lorena gonna charge?

- $1,000 a day plus expenses.
- $2,000, and not to me.

A donation to the Sierra Club
in memory of Lydell Lipps.

Deal. It's a shame
the kids are gonna miss this.

You're about to meet
a motherfucking legend.

So,
Stevie and I were at my estate.

I was drinking absinthe,

and several snifters in,

I decided that this would be
the perfect night

to teach Stevie Wonder
how to drive.

And that it might be
most entertaining

to let him motor about the lawn
with me outside the car,

- trying to dodge it.
- Excuse me.

I need a shoot, Mr. Pinch.

Oh, thank you, cherub.

Anyway, I thought I'd give
Stevie a sporting chance.

So there I was,
trousers around my ankles,

Stevie gave it some stick,
and I spent the next fortnight

pissing claret in Ward C.

Where's my mustache fluffer?

Last looks.

Let me know when we're set.

Grazie, babies.

Sustained.

"Sustrained."

So stained.

Is he shit-faced?

Come on.

It is such a privilege
to get to watch this man work.

He's got a shitload
of Shakespeare Awards

under his bed.

Greatest fucking actor
since Brando.

I get him Wednesday nights
after Jessica Biel.

Love this job.

Background.

And... action!

Let me tell you a story

from when I was just a tyke
in Tuscaloosa.

My granddaddy,
Raymond Forbishaw,

he was a jurist himself.

Family court.

He used to set me on his knee
and say,

"Johnnie, for 99 days,
the judge's job

is merely to be that blindfold
on the statue of Lady Justice.

For 99 days, you do that,
and justice,

in its natural wisdom,
will find its own way.

But, Johnnie," he'd say...

"...on the 100th day,

a great judge knows
that he needs to be justice."

Now, I wouldn't be so bold as to
call myself a great judge,

but I do know
that as I sit here today,

I'm thinking about
my granddaddy.

And that's why
I'm gonna direct this verdict

and find this here defendant...
guilty.

Cut!

Alastair, that was terrific.

Terrific?
It was bloody genius.

You're not going
to top that one.

I'll see you all tomorrow then.

Did you hear what I just said?

He's supposed to say
"not guilty."

- He said guilty.
- Fuck.

Could have just told me
I had ass cancer.

Sorry.

- Alastair.
- Yes?

Oh, God,
I hate to do this to you,

but we're gonna have
to do one more.

- The last line is "not guilty."
- "Not guilty."

- What did I say?
- Guilty.

- The fuck I did.
- Yeah, he didn't say that.

Did... I mean,
but really, just please?

No.
I know what I said, love.

So let's just look
at the playback.

He wouldn't have said that.

Can we just see
the playback, please?

You... What are you smirking at?

What? I didn't say anything.

Do you think it's easy
to carry this piece of shit

on my shoulders week after week?

You think I need a twat like you

standing there
hoping I'll cock it up?

How long have you worked
on the show?

It's my first week.

Your first week.
It's his first week, everyone.

God!

And that's why I'm gonna

direct this verdict...

Let that be a lesson to you.

- You good?
- I'm fine.

...guilty.

Let's do this.
Come on.

Let's do it. Let's roll.

Rolling!

Does that happen often?

Sometimes after lunch.

We always put a stunt guy
right there, pay him extra.

Don't tell Alastair.

Ready?

Action.

"...and find
this here defendant

not guilty."

Cut!

Wouldn't be the first time
I've had the clap.

Entrez.

"Not guilty."

Ah, lord of the manor, down to
slum a bit with the vassals.

To what do we owe the honor?

I wanted to introduce you
to Charlie Waldo,

the detective we told you about.

He used to be king shit
at the LAPD.

Ah, the fallen angel.
You've landed him.

Didn't I promise you I would?

I'd give you the shirt
off my back. You know that.

I'd prefer the watch
off your wrist.

Have you seen
what this man wears?

Costs more than the house
I grew up in.

Kudoke Skeleton.
They only make 35 a year.

Maybe I'll make you
a wrap gift of one. How's that?

Can we have that
signed in blood?

"Signed in blood,"
he says.

I'm done for the day, Detective.
Do you have plans?

- Where do you live?
- Idyllwild.

- I'm only here for today.
- Details we're sorting out.

I haven't agreed
to take this case.

I'll find a hotel for tonight.

Nonsense.
You'll stay at my house.

Great idea.

Right to the scene of the crime.

You don't mind sleeping

surrounded by yellow tape,
do you?

This fucking guy.

Come on, Waldo.
What do you say?

What's the worst
that can happen?

Lorena turns up in a day or two,

you can go back
to wherever you came from.

Hell, maybe even get
your reputation back.

Just kidding.

Interest you
in a wee snifter, Detective?

No, thank you.

I deplore drinking alone,

so I'll have a double.

She was so proud of this room.

Chin-chin.

It was in Town and Wanker
magazine, you know.

Why don't you walk me
through that morning?

All right.

One more time.

It was a Saturday.

I woke up... or came to...
in my study,

about a half a mile
down that way.

I realized I had no recollection
of the previous night.

I came in here.
Found my sweet Monica.

I ran back to the kitchen,
dialed 911.

There was a shattered vase.

Anyhow,
when the ambulance arrived,

they told me
she was already gone

and had been
for quite some time.

Does anyone else have keys?

Only Rosario. That's our nanny.

And she was in Venezuela
visiting her family.

Nanny?

You have kids in the house?

Yes.
We have one child, Gaby.

She likely wasn't
the killer either,

but she'll be home
from kindergarten soon enough

if you think it's worth
trying to wrest a confession.

Pretty glib, considering.

Forgive me.

Dear Gaby doesn't even know,
of course, but...

...the world is certain
I murdered my wife, Mr. Waldo,

and I can't even tell you
the world is wrong.

If you know a man who's handled
a similar predicament

with more élan, point me to him,

and I shall gladly emulate.

You ever thought about trying
to stop drinking?

All the time.

But this doesn't seem the week
for that, now, does it?

Daddy!

Princess Ozma,
where did you come from?

Want to hear the song Little Dog
taught us at school today?

A little dog?
Why, yes, of course.

♪ Brush every morning,
brush every night ♪

♪ I brush and I brush
so my teeth will be white ♪

♪ Teeth can be shiny,
teeth can be gold ♪

♪ I hope I still have some
when I'm very old ♪

- You know it.
- I do know it, Gaby.

I'd like to meet my new friend,
Mr. Waldo.

He looks scary. Like a lion.

Yeah, but he's a friendly lion.

Gaby and I are going to spend
some daddy time before bed,

you snuggly baby.

Oh, you haven't decided
to take the case yet, have you?

What say you, Detective?

Will you return to your mountain
and leave me to the fates?

Or will you stick around
the shitty of the angels

long enough to see the police
maybe get it right this time?

Whatever right may look like.

Daddy, can Mr. Lion drive
to school with us tomorrow?

Can he please?

Please?

Yay!

Will this be all right?

It's perfect.

Fucking Lorena.

Guilty.

...and turn down the volume
on the media circus.

Oh, come on, Fontella.

You live for the media circus.

Now I'm hearing there could be
an indictment

as early as tomorrow.

We've not been told that.

And now the L.A. Times
is reporting

that sources on the LAPD say

there are no
unidentified fingerprints

anywhere in that room.

What does that suggest to you?

It suggests that
the real killer

knew what he was doing.

You promised us
Charlie Waldo

from the Lydell Lipps case.

What does it say
that he's not here with you?

Charlie Waldo
is busy uncovering...

Welcome to kindergartens
of the rich and famous.

Gaby, Mr. Lion needs to
talk to your teacher.

But first, he's going to
park this beast.

Now get out, little blighter.

Baby back ribs in there.

Alas, poor Yorick!

I knew him, my sweet Gaby,

a fellow of infinite jest,
of most excellent fancy.

He hath borne me on his back
a thousand times,

and now, how abhorred
in my imagination it is!

My gorge rises at it.

Yes, you're a shadow
of your former self.

It's that keto diet I'm on.

I'm starving. I think I may have
taken it a bit too far.

You got anything in your lunch?

Like a pork chop?
Ham sandwich? No?

I'm afraid it
wouldn't do you any good,

dear boy.
I think you're dead.

Dead? That's tragic.

Yes, indeed, it's tragic.

Where be your gibes now?

Your gambols? Your songs?

Your flashes of merriment

that were won't to set the table
on a roar?

I think
I've soiled my britches.

Should I change my nappy?
Oh, it's all squishy.

Bravo!

Oh, yes, thank you, thank you.

That was funny, Daddy.

Yes. That speech
always slays them.

Come. Let's play on the swings.

I believe Mr. Lion
wants to ask Miss White

whether Daddy plays nicely with
the other children.

Off we go.
Let's get to the swings.

- It'll be a swinging time.
- Swing, swing, swing!

My name's Waldo.

I'm a detective
working for Alastair.

Jayne.
My heart breaks for Gaby.

Mr. Pinch is doing a lot
to keep her spirits up.

And Mrs. Pinch...
What was she like as a parent?

Mrs. Pinch?

We have the children memorize
these poems.

I like to ask the kids whose mom
and dad can recite them too.

Half the time
these parents can't,

but the nanny can
in two languages.

What about the Pinches?

Mrs. Pinch never knew them.

Mr. Pinch, always.

That's unusual.

The death must have shocked
the hell out of this place, huh?

Not me.

Good morning, kids.

Okay, everyone find their place.
Get your bunnies.

We're gonna start by writing
your names on the back of them,

so have a marker.

Miss White, I'm gonna need
to talk to you again.

Sure.

Does everyone have their bunny
from yesterday?

Come meet me tonight.
We can talk then.

All right.
Have you got names set?

Yes, Miss White.

Do you put your boots
on your chairs at home?

I live in a trailer
with a chicken.

What happened to this "vayse"?

"Vahse."

Ah, yes. Well...

That's the one
she was killed with.

What was that, ceramic?

Earthenware.
Nice vase. I rather miss it.

What about that table?

It's different.

Monica was a tinkerer.

No room was ever finished
to her satisfaction.

Mm. And that sculpture.

The Bard?

The sculpture.

This.

Ah, dear boy.

That's a Regis Award
for my Richard III.

Did you move it?

I've never been much
for acting trophies.

Monica had that one on display
for sentimental reasons.

That was the production
on which we met.

Really?

Perhaps it's wherever Monica
put my other Regises

or my... People's Choice Award.

Good night, sweet prince.

Flights of angels
sing thee to thy rest.

♪ In the old rugged cross ♪

♪ Stained with blood so divine ♪

♪ A wondrous beauty I see ♪

♪ For 'twas on that old cross ♪

♪ Jesus suffered and died ♪

♪ To pardon and sanctify me ♪

There goes the good girl
kindergarten teacher.

Just wait till I have
a few Maker's in me.

So why weren't you shocked
that Monica Pinch was killed?

Okay, Mr. Waldo.

I have a confession.

Okay.

I've been watching
all this TV coverage

since the murder.

I knew exactly who you were

the minute you walked into
my classroom.

That figures.

Who was Lydell Lipps?

Everyone keeps talking
about Lydell Lipps.

I can usually tell when
someone's messing with me.

You're jamming up my radar.

Maybe your radar's just rusty.

Yeah, maybe.

Here you go.

Thanks.

To whiskey and good hair.

It's been a while.

Okay. If you want to know,
I'll tell you.

11 years ago,
there was a robbery at 7-11.

The girl behind the counter
and two customers

got shot dead.

I turned up a kid
named Donny Lipps.

Leaned on him pretty hard.

It paid off.

He said he was waiting
in the car outside.

And in return for a deal,

he would give me the shooter.

Turns out that was Lydell,
his brother.

Signed, sealed.

My career's off to the races,
right,

and I am on fire with ambition.

Everything's going great.

Cut to years later.

Lydell comes up for parole,

and the prosecutors ask me to
help them prep for the hearing.

So I go see the brother again,

who's in prison himself
at this point.

Three strikes, unrelated.

Only now he tells me that
the original story was bullshit.

He made it up
to get me off his back.

So at that point,

Lydell had been in jail for...

7 years, 3 months, and 16 days.

Well, next thing I learn,

it is a lot harder to get
an innocent man out of jail

than to put a guilty man in.

System isn't designed
to deal with mistakes.

And some individuals aren't,
either.

But I keep pushing.

And I keep pushing

and I keep pushing,

and I'm doing everything I can.

And this goes on for a year.

And then Lydell got stabbed

in a yard fight
and he bled to death.

After spending every day
of his adult life

locked up for something
that he didn't fucking do.

And that I

built a career on.

And when I run out of people
that would listen,

which took about six months...

Um...

I quit.

And I started talking
to anyone with a microphone.

I guess that would have
burned a lot of bridges.

Oh, I burned the fucking river.

You still haven't told me.

What?

Why weren't you shocked
about Monica Pinch?

Oh, of course I was shocked.

I mean, how could I
not be shocked?

I don't follow.

Waldo,

can't you tell when a girl just
wants to have a drink with you?

I said a drink.

Three years in the woods.

You haven't been
with anybody all that time?

No.

That's kind of hot, Waldo.

Alastair.

They're gonna arrest you.

Those are news helicopters.

LAPD's putting on a show.

- Go put some clothes on.
- Don't be silly, love.

The network will adore me
in this wardrobe.

Anyway, if it's good enough
for Wacko Jacko,

it's good enough for me.

Beautiful.

Tits and teeth.

Fuck.

- Hold your fire.
- Morning.

Alastair Pinch,
you're under arrest

for the murder of Monica Pinch.

Come on, Pete.
Do we have to do it like this?

Let him come in
and surrender himself.

- Hands behind your back.
- Really? You're gonna cuff him?

You can't do me a solid
for old times?

Fuck you, old times.

You made 10,000 good cops
look like the fucking Klan.

Say goodbye to
your pretty house, huh, Olivier?

Last time you're gonna see it.

Daddy?

Daddy's just going for
a sleepover.

Be a good girl.
See you tomorrow.

Come on. Let's go.

Hey!

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Did he get bail?

$20 million.

Don't be silly.
We're paying the bail.

It's only $20 million.
I'm insured for it.

- I got to talk to you.
- Hold on.

- I g...
- And that's the end of it.

- So yeah.
- I spoke to my guy at LAPD.

He's why they turned it
into a festival.

You have to get rid of him.

Look, I'm happy to quit.

I don't want to make
this worse for anybody.

Worse? You're making it better.

Listen, does one of you guys
have the time?

Apparently I have Charlie Sheen
in my office.

How is he making it better?

The bigger assholes
the cops are,

the more sympathy
for our protagonist.

Cheer up, Waldo.
You can't win them all.

Yeah. Yeah. Be right there.

Asshole.

Jesus, Waldo.

Oh, boy.

You don't know me anymore,
you understand?

- You're poison.
- Good to see you too, Freddie.

You been to division yet?

Unh-unh. Probably 20 guys
in that building

like to knock my teeth out.

Twenty?
A hundred!

Twenty would like to
shoot them out with a bullet.

I want the autopsy protocol
on Monica Pinch.

All the slides, all the photos.

Yeah, good luck with that.

They indict, defense has
the right to everything.

So you can deal with me

or you can deal with
Fontella Davis,

who's every bit the delight
she seems on TV

and who, by the way,
never got you Laker tickets

or lied to your wife
to cover for you.

Charlie fucking Waldo.

Jesus.

Straight up, Freddy...
how'd you make this?

Cerebral hemorrhage.
Severe blow in the right temple,

second contusion
back of the head,

probably from where she fell.

Victim was found locked
in a house with a drunk

with two assault convictions
in England.

So I'm guessing suicide.

And the alarm,
you know about that, right?

Turns out the alarm company
has it being on

since the previous night.

Before or after time of death?

Too close to call.

Guy clobbered his wife
to death with a vase.

That simple.

Hello?

I know who killed
Monica Pinch.

Who is this?

Meet me at that rock pile
you live at, Waldo.

I'm not there. I'm in L.A.

Your piece-of-shit trailer. Now.

Nini, is that a croissant?
Give me one of those.

Nini, check underneath there.

Nothing? Anything?

Open this shit up.

This a Kindle?

How you like it so far?

I'm trying to decide
between this and the Nook.

Nook's a little cheaper.

I like the Kindle
for content.

Content. Right.
How's their tech support?

Keep looking.

Pretty good.

Out of 10,
what would you give it?

- 8.
- 8. Fucking...

I'm Don Q.

You heard of me?

This man is Nini.

Do not fuck with this man.

He was number-one ranked
Inuit light heavyweight.

Nini, squeeze me.

- Inuit?
- Yeah.

Is that like Eskimo?

No. No, see,

Nini, here,
he's from Canada.

You can say Eskimo in Alaska,

but in Canada,
they prefer to be called Inuit.

To them, Eskimo is
considered pejorative.

You need to be careful
with chicken.

- There he goes.
- Oh, wow.

That was fucking good.

Yeah, of course.

That ain't the reason
for our visit.

Where is it?

Where is what?

The mem that Lorena
left with you.

Where is it, Waldo? Huh?

I'm starting to think
you're not here

to tell me who killed
Monica Pinch.

So you are a detective.

Where are all your possessions?

I'm a minimalist.

What's that,
like the... the artists

with the white on white
and shit?

It's more like a lifestyle.

I only have 100 things.

100 things.

Well, 99 now.

That's fucked up, bro, though.

Especially if one of them
is mine.

You got 24 hours,
and then I want my mem.

What's a mem?

Call my boy here
when you got it in hand.

818-OH-NANOOK.

The alternative...

Maybe you end up like Lorena.

Where is she?

Nini, let's go.

Hey, fuckface!

I don't think
I look like a fuckface.

If anything,
he looks like a fuckface.

I mean, what does
a fuckface look like?

I don't know.

This doesn't make sense.

Back to 100.

Yeah. That's right.

Charlie Waldo.
This is what I want.

One, everyone who was on
crime scene security.

Two, all transport, medical,
and emergency personnel

who had contact
with the victim and the suspect.

Don't talk to him.
Nobody gives him anything.

He's a rat.
Nothing to see here.

Show's over.
Let's go back to work.

All right.
How about first to respond?

I'll start there.

Don't talk to him.

Nobody talks to him.
He's not here, all right?

You ignored him, understand?
Understood?

You do what I say, not him.

You.

Officer...

Anus?

Annis.

High school must have sucked.

Do not speak to him, Annis.

You were at the Pinch house?
You the first ones,

- you and your partner?
- Annis...

Do you know who
Fontella Davis is?

- Ignore him.
- Do you want her

on TV every night
making this case about you?

- Show's over.
- When you arrived

at the house,
was the door dead-bolted?

You sure? It's frosted glass.

You couldn't see him unlock it.
You heard it that clearly?

The alarm was on.
We saw him disarm it.

- What did I say?
- Yes, Anus,

but the real killer could have
set the alarm on the way out

- if the door wasn't dead-bolted.
- He's just talking in circles.

What about
the murder weapon?

It's all bullshit.

The earthenware vase.

It wasn't you that gathered up
all the pieces, was it?

Do not fucking answer him,
all right?

Yes, Waldo, he got all
the pieces of the murder weapon.

- I supervised it myself.
- The earthenware vase.

The earthenware vase.

Only the earthenware vase
isn't the murder weapon.

Not if Alastair Pinch
killed her.

That thing's got to weigh
28 pounds.

It came down
over the victim's right eye.

You'd have to be pretty strong a
lefty to make a shot like that,

not a drunken righty.

Almost convincing.

Pinch is a righty.
I've watched him pour.

Officer Annis,
could I have a moment?

You see that statue?

That's a Regis Award
for acting in England.

You ever seen it before?

That's 'cause it's missing.
That's the murder weapon.

- Oh, please. Time to go home.
- Three and a half pounds.

The earthenware vase, the victim
hit that on the way down.

- Annis.
- Hey, don't look at him.

The department's gonna
let you get fucked on this.

- Believe me, I know.
- That's it, Waldo.

I'm gonna give you 10 seconds,
how about that?

- 10 seconds?
- Yeah.

- Perfect. That's all I need.
- 9.

Annis, you don't want
to be the guy

who puts away an innocent man,
believe me.

- Let's... Come on.
- You may as well

pull down your pants,
'cause you're gonna get fucked.

- Come on.
- You're gonna get fucked, Annis.

It sounded like he fumbled
with the dead-bolt...

- What did I tell you?!
- He was still drunk.

We couldn't tell for sure.

Shut the fuck up, Anus.

Nobody talks to this scum sack.

This man is not a cop.
He is not one of us.

He's a fucking rat.

He's a person of interest
in a homicide investigation.

For those of you
that don't know,

the body of one adult female

ID'd as Lorena Nascimento.

Yeah, she borrowed
her husband's Porsche.

She didn't tell you about him,
did she?

We found it on fire
off the freeway,

up by Magic Mountain.

Fully engulfed, body inside.

That item she gave you,

that could put Don Q away
for so long

you'll both die
of natural causes.

Why don't you just
give it to me?

I tried to warn you.

What the fuck?

Fuck you!

Fuck you!

Fuck you!

Killed her!

They fucking killed her!

I, uh...

I had my bike on this rack.

I think I left my lock.

Following me all day.

Who the fuck are you?

An attorney. I'm an attorney
specializing in personal injury.

And if you do not unhand me,

I will sue damages.

Please?

That's fine.

That's fine.

You're a private eye?

Yeah. I'm a private eye.

Who the fuck are you?

You, sir,
just committed a felony,

presenting yourself as a PI
in the state of California

when you are, in fact,
unlicensed.

Now, I will level with you.

I have a client
who cannot understand

why you would associate yourself
with a murderer

like Alastair Pinch.

Beautiful watch.

Who's the client?

Listen.

Asshole.

I'm not gonna let you
wrestle me off this case.

- No, no, Mr. Waldo.
- Let's just communicate.

There has been no threat
from me, nor do I intend one.

- I apologize.
- I am going to fucking kill you.

No, sir, listen.
It is my hope and my client's

that this pleasant, okay,
happenstantial meeting

between the last two of us

is the last time you and I
see each other.

So with that in mind, excuse me.

Sir, please.

I'll take my things.

You know, actually,
on second thought,

neither one of these
are my bike.

Good day.

Yeah, thanks for the phone,
you fucking ambulance chaser.

Warren Gomes, Esquire.

Warren Gomes.

The last call was to...

Darius Jamshidi.

Darius Jamshidi.

Darius Jamshidi.

Where do we live,
Darius Jamshidi?

Jamshidi.

You're not gonna wrestle me
off this case.

Asshole.

Fuck this.

You ghosted me, Waldo.

I'm looking for Darius Jamshidi!

Come on. Who's gonna help me?

You gonna help me?

I spy with my little eye

Darius Jamshidi.

No?

You look like a Darius.

All right.
That's enough.

- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.

Oh, yeah? Really?

Hey, hey, hey. Don't look at me.

He attacked me.

- I'm just...
- That's enough, friend.

Okay, fellas,
it's two against one.

Come on. Where's your sense
of sportsmanship?

Stop!

Be cool.

He needs to take those handcuffs
off his belt

and handcuff one of his wrists,
okay?

- Tell him.
- Do it.

Knee.

Okay. Hey, hey, hey. Steady.

Now, I have an idea, and I don't
want you to panic, okay?

Just go with me.

Okay.

All right.

Now...

...we're gonna take
a little walk.

And you're gonna introduce me
to Mr. Jamshidi.

All right. Let's go.
We're walking.

How about him?

Okay, him?

Okay.

How about him, huh?

I'm Darius Jamshidi.

The real police will be here
in a few minutes,

but I'd be happy to
speak with you until then.

I see you're trying to
buy a television network, huh?

This ends with you walking out
that door in a few minutes.

You sic Warren Gomes on me?

I assume you sent those kids,
too.

The Palisades Posse.

Question is,

why do you want me to stay away
from the Pinch case?

- I don't know who you are.
- Have you met my wife?

But you just ruined my benefit.

And no doubt cost a very,
very important charity

tens of thousands of dollars.

Now, I want you to go release
those two men,

and I want you to unlock
that one man's ear

from the other man's backside.

I'll do that.

My husband will show you
to the tennis courts.

You'll find those men there
and your chain.

- Thank you.
- Asshole.

She seems very nice.

This has been delightful.

The wall past the next house
backs out onto Mulholland.

If you'd be so kind

as to not cause any more drama
in the party.

Tell me who Warren Gomes is.

Gomes is dead.

What are you talking about?

I just spoke with the police.

Someone shot him
just before you arrived.

It wasn't you, per chance,
was it?

Why don't you tell me
what he was doing for you?

Warren Gomes has... had
a talent for special research,

which allows my company
to make what it makes.

Which is?

Money.

So Gomes was digging up dirt
to help you buy the network.

Why do you want me to stay away
from Pinch?

I believe that's for you.

Waldo.

Waldo.

Alastair?

Rosario?

Alastair?

Where's Alastair?

Line.

"I'll recuse myself
if I have to."

- Shit.
- And cut.

Excuse me.

I must have been distracted
by your perfume.

Things are getting
fucking strange,

and I need your help.

Darius Jamshidi.

That name mean
anything to you?

No, but Robert Blake
called last night

and asked if I want
to play pinochle on Thursdays.

You do realize that everyone
is sure you did this.

The only thing giving me doubts

it's that someone's
busting my horns.

And me figuring out why

is the only thing
standing between you

and a life sentence.

When I ask for help,
I don't know,

maybe you should fucking help.

Simmer down.
How could I be of service?

Is there anything
you're not telling me?

Like what?

Like did you invite someone over
to your house that night?

- No.
- You sure?

- Absolutely.
- Could you invite someone

over to the house
and not remember the next day?

I've gotten married,
fathered children,

and taken out mortgages
and not remembered the next day.

When did you move
the furniture around?

I told you, Monica was
a constant tinkerer.

She was never finished...

The night table
in my room doesn't fit.

I'm thinking someone moved it
from your room

and the one in your room
from the living room,

probably on the night
of the murder

unless you moved it since.

I have not moved them since.
Piss off.

What shall you do, Detective,

if find that I did,
in fact, murder my wife?

Will you stand for your client

or... or for truth and justice,

like the incorruptible
Charlie Waldo of yore?

You stick with truth
and justice, Waldo.

If I've killed
my little girl's mother,

I'll take what's coming to me
and call it even.

Daddy!

Ah! There's my darling.

I know all of my lines
for the play.

I can't wait to see
your Rumpelstiltskin.

Come, now.

Today I brew, tomorrow I bake.

And then the prince child
I'll take!

You sound like a maniac.

Hey, you sober enough to drive?

I suppose so. Why?

I'll meet you at your house.

- What's wrong?
- Nothing.

Just lock the door
and don't answer it.

Hey! Fuckhead!

Tell me about Lorena.

Fuck you.

How about you tell me
about my mem?

I don't even know
what a fucking mem is!

Tell me about my mem.

Who are you people?!

Cool your jets now.

I think you're prevaricating,
Waldo.

She says she gave it to you.

Last words the bitch ever said,
so I'm inclined to believe her.

You know she was still alive

when I poured the gasoline
on her?

Fucking kill you!

Fuck!

You dirty motherfucker.

Waldo.

Lorena.

Waldo, you've just had
a concussion.

Okay, can you focus?

Yeah.

The school nurse went home.

I said I'd take care of you.

Fuck, is it...

No, I'm sorry.
I shouldn't confuse you.

It's 4:30 in the afternoon.

You've just had a concussion,
and...

Okay, just go really slowly.

I'll drop you off at Alastair's.

Lot of traffic.

Thanks for taking me home.

I might have a better idea.

Do you trust me?

Why should I trust you?

Because you'll like it.

All right.
Well, this is me.

Have a nice day.

You too.

Doing whatever it is
that you do.

I'm late.

I'm gonna call you.

I know you will.

Mr. Lion, did you find
my invitation?

What are you gonna do?

About what?

Your mane is gone.

Can I tell you a secret?

Yes.

It was stolen by a princess.

I will get back for you, okay?

- Will you?
- Mm-hmm.

Thank you.

You have a good day.

I will.

Yes!

Fuckin' yes!

Fuckin' yes!
Yes!

Yes!

Mem.
Memory stick.

Nini.
It's your old friend Waldo.

What, cat got your tongue?

Tell your boss
he can have his mem.

Meet me tomorrow...
Wilshire and Catalina, 2:00.

Young man, could I ask you
to use your earphones, please?

I mean, those are the rules.

Excuse me.
Who's that you're listening to?

Swag Doggg.

Swag Doggg?

Yeah.

All right.
Thank you.

We got to talk about it.
It's all over social media.

But you're the first
hip-hop artist we've seen

spell his name D-O-G-G-G.

What's that about?

Well, you know that third G
is for the big homie... God.

Oh God, baby.

Immaculate conception.
You feel me?

Immaculate concept
that pink purse

- from around your neck.
- It's a Bottega.

That is a purse.

- I brush every...
- Morning!

- I brush every...
- Night!

I brush and I brush
till my teeth, they're...

White!

Lil Doggg.

Hey, buddy.

Earphones.
It's rules.

Sorry.

Hello?

Waldo?

Nice of you to call.

Where the hell are you?

I can't say.
Listen.

There's a guy who's gonna
reach out to you hasn't already.

Oh, he has.

He's for real.
Don't mess around.

I know.
Everyone thinks he killed you.

He can't if he can't find me.

Hi.

I'm writing a piece for Esquire
on the new face of hip-hop.

Hey.
Hey, hey, hey.

Sir, are you okay?

- It's okay.
- It's all right.

Could I have that, please?

Back up, Nini.
It's all right. I got this.

It's pretty fucking bold of you

to be disrespecting me
like that,

especially in light
of Lorena's final hours.

You should've seen her fuckin'
eyes when I lit that match, bro.

She was crying,
snot coming down her nose...

I just talked to her.

Now.

So why don't we cut the bullshit
and you tell me

why Lorena was messing with you
in the first place.

Hey, if you don't want
that flash drive,

I could always give it
to the police.

Go get yourself
an ice cream cone.

Get yourself
an ice cream cone.

Strawberry.
Like your shirt.

Come on. Relax.
Relax.

You're so tense.

Everything all right?
No problems at home?

I just want you to know
you can talk to me, all right?

About anything.

Lorena was working for me,
all right?

Not what you think.

Marital surveillance
on behalf of my sister,

watching my lazy-ass
brother-in-law.

Lorena comes to see me at this
chop shop I use as an office.

She sees my mem sitting there.
The bitch palms it.

She walks out the office
like it's nothing.

Calls me later
saying it's collateral

on what she claims
I already owe her.

All right. Look.
I think I got this.

- You open to a suggestion?
- What you got?

All right.
I give you the mem.

You let Lorena come back to L.A.

We whack up the rest
in small-claims.

- Yeah?
- Simple.

It's so simple.

I can't believe I didn't
fuckin' think of that before.

What are you, fuckin' nuts?

I got a reputation to uphold,
Waldo.

- Are you aware of that...
- Assbags against the wall.

- Motherfucker!
- Jesus Christ.

If you're looking for Jim's
flash drive, you're out of luck.

- I didn't bring it.
- What'd you just say, Waldo?

Sorry.

You got a permit for this?

- No.
- Nah.

I am arresting both of you

for the murder
of Lorena Nascimento.

You want to read your boy here
the 6:00 news or what?

Lorena's alive.
I just talked to her.

- What?
- Yeah.

- Yeah.
- Fuck!

Well, who was in her car, then?

I say you both suck
at your jobs.

Cuppy was never gonna book us
anyway.

Just another play to squeeze me.
Ain't that right, Cuppy?

You know I'm the only one
in town who doesn't grease

this motherfuckin'
cocksuckin' motherfucker?

- Little man...
- Whoa.

...you... you'd better
watch your mouth

on days that you're followed
around by that douchebag Eskimo.

What?

What the...

He's an Inuit,
you fuckin' philistine.

Let's go.

You got another 24 hours, Waldo.

Okay.

Come on.
Let's get you up, Cuppy.

Hi.

Do you have a school directory
I can look at

with the names of the students
in each class and their parents?

It's for Jayne White.

Thank you.

Swag Doggg.

Jamshidi.

Listen. I'm on to something.

What do you know about
Darius Jamshidi and Swag Doggg?

Are those animated characters?

They both wanted me to stay
the hell away from your case.

I went to the school today
and checked the directory.

They're parents...

They're parents
in your daughter's class.

Now, I'm thinking that Monica
could've been into something

with these other parents

and one or more of them
wanted her dead.

Question is, though, what the
fuck is going on in that class?

Oh, who knows?
Show-and-tell.

Finger painting. I don't know.

- Hey! Princess!
- What?

I'm trying to save your life.
You want to cut the self-pity?

- Self-pity?
- Look.

You got a terrific little girl
who already lost her mom.

Does she have to lose a dad?

Nobody talks to me that way.

- And do you know why?
- 'Cause they need the money.

No, because they know they'll
get a damn good drubbing.

Put 'em up.
Come on. Your turn, love.

You'll get a real fight.

I'm not doing this.

- Come on.
- I'm not doing this.

- Alastair, you're too drunk!
- Slippery joker.

- Alastair...
- Hold still, will you?

It's not even a fair fight!
You're twice my age!

Okay. Look. I'm a pacifist,
and I refuse to get involved.

J...

Alastair?

Well earned, sir.

Have you had enough?

I've had enough.

Let's you and I have a drink.
Help me up.

Oh, you've trimmed the hedges.
Handsome devil.

You remember
having mates, don't you, Waldo?

Not like you.

There you go.

You were right, of course.

I am shit-faced.

More than usual.

Chin-chin.

You know what you should have
done when your young man died?

You should have gone on
an epic two-week pub crawl,

gotten it all out
of your system.

To self-pity.

That was a powerful observation
coming from the master.

You and I are two sides
of the same coin, aren't we?

And now, here you are,
back among the living

in a way you weren't
just a week ago.

Oh, you see a difference?

All the difference in the world.

Dicking refuckulous the way
you confronted me out there.

You didn't have that in you when
you first shuffled onto my set

with that rat's nest of a beard
and those dead eyes.

You've been brought back
to life, mate,

like so many of us...

by singular carnal charms.

Is Jayne keeping the baby?

I think about her all the time.

But I haven't thought it right
to telephone,

given the circumstances.

And I was such a cad,
especially after she told me.

But I was married, after all,
and what was I to do?

And then after the business
with my sweet Monica...

I'm tired, Waldo.

Fearing that you may not be
as good as others believe.

It's common to all men.

But fearing that deep down
you may be a monster...

...that's a whole different
flavor of hell.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are about to begin.

Please find your seats.

Hey.

Hey.

You should have told me
about you and Alastair.

There's nothing to tell.
He's a kindergarten dad.

Don't worry. It's not Alastair.
It's me.

I found this burner
in his house.

On the night his wife died,
he texted back and forth

with someone, inviting her over.

Someone... who said
she'd be right there.

Come on.

Let's talk.

Did you have a thing
with Swag Doggg too?

Yes.

And that crazy rich guy
Jamshidi?

You know,
I've been getting beaten up

and threatened all week
because of you.

It had nothing to do
with Monica Pinch.

It was a bunch of rich guys

that didn't want their affairs
with you exposed.

What do you want, Waldo?

I'm a thrill-seeker, and I'm
teaching fucking kindergarten.

And what could be a bigger rush
than sleeping with the detective

investigating a death
you're involved in?

It wasn't just that.

I really felt something.

Start from the beginning.

And no bullshit.

I was hoping that he would leave
his wife.

But he was an asshole,
and he kept talking about

how she wanted him to move back
to England with her.

Like, he didn't give a shit
about what I was telling him.

And after that,
total radio silence.

But I kept texting him,
which was... probably stupid.

And then one night, he...
he messaged me back

saying that...
that Monica was out of the house

and I should come over
and we could talk about us.

And before I can even ring
the bell,

Monica opens the door
and tells me to come inside.

She's holding his phone.

She's the one who messaged me
to come over.

She tells me Alastair's
passed out in the study and...

she wanted to see who it was.

When she found out
it was her daughter's teacher,

she got pretty unhinged.

Kept talking about...

...how L.A. was this evil city
and...

what a mistake it was
coming to L.A.

I was scared
she was gonna get violent, so...

I just ran out of there.

I drove away.

And then...

...the next day,
I heard Monica was dead.

And I tried reaching out
to Alastair,

but... he was even more
of an asshole.

He wouldn't talk to me,

not even when he was
dropping Gaby off.

So...

Well, when the... when the chips
started falling on him...

...I just let them fall.

And you're pregnant?

Alastair's?

Jayne?
We're about to start.

Yeah.

Be right there.

Can we pick this up later?

After the play and lawyers.

There's her necklace
and her ring.

Next I'll take the child
as the king!

Today I brew.

Tomorrow I bake.

And then the prince child
I'll take!

For no one knows
my little game,

and Rumpelstiltskin is my name!

To guess my name?

She'll never guess!

Jayne?

That girl from "Louisiana Law."

What's her name? Yeah.
I need you to call her agent.

I mean, is she pregnant
or is it...

I don't know. She's unhappy?
'Cause it's weird.

I mean,
I don't know if she changed

what she's eating, but...

You tell me.

But they're feeding her
something very, very strange,

'cause I have never seen a shape
quite like that.

Waddling through the lot.

And I-I was like,

"It's not gonna work.
I don't want to look at that."

All right.
Well, you tell him.

All right. Bye.

Mr. Waldo!

Mr. Sikorsky.

Apologies for the interruption,
but I made some progress.

Oh, you did?
Fantastic.

What is that?

That, my friend, is signed

by every quarterback
who ever won two Super Bowls.

May I?

Please.
Be my guest.

May I also say it is so good
to see your baby face

peeking out
where once a dead animal lay.

And just when you thought I
couldn't get any more handsome.

I have a run-through, but, um...
fuck 'em.

I want to hear this.
Shoot.

It's good news, I guess.

I know who killed Monica Pinch.

Fantastic.

I mean...

There's a young lady
named Jayne White.

She was the Pinch girl's
kindergarten teacher.

What'd a kindergarten teacher
want to kill Monica Pinch for?

She and Alastair were having
an affair.

You don't look surprised.

They had a complicated marriage.

Well, you knew them pretty well.

Knew them well.
We did St. Bart's last year.

I'm just so fuckin' relieved
it's not Alastair, you know?

- I'm sure you are.
- I knew you were my guy.

Fontella said,
"Don't hire that bum.

He stinks in every way."

But I was like, "No.
That's my guy."

And do I know casting
or do I know casting?

Is this chick in custody?

Are we good?

- Jayne?
- Yeah.

No.

- No. She left town.
- Ah, we'll find her.

She's a fuckin' kindergarten
teacher, not Whitey Bulger.

That's a win-win for Waldo
and Sikorsky.

You get the killer.
I get to keep my syndication.

I mean, it's a tragedy, but,
you know, as tragedies go...

But thank you.

You know, great job and...

Did you know Jayne White?

I know of her.

Did you know that Alastair
had gotten her pregnant?

- Hey.
- I'm just wondering

if that was something
many people were aware of.

Many people? No.
This is inner-circle stuff.

Right, but...
you're in the inner circle.

I founded the inner circle.

You know, he knows what I'm
doing, if you know what I mean.

I know what he's doing,
if you know what I mean.

So what was Monica Pinch's
reaction

when she found out
Jayne White was pregnant?

- She was devastated.
- I bet.

I mean, she probably
pushed Alastair even harder

to quit the show
and move back to England.

I can't speak to that
'cause I don't know her

- as well as I know him.
- Right.

But you knew about the awards.

The Shakespeare Awards
you talked about?

They're called Regis,
by the way.

What did you say?

You said they were all
under the bed.

Under the bed, in the attic.
Doesn't matter.

He just didn't want them around.

Ah. Gotcha.
It's funny.

- They were under the bed.
- So?

It's just Alastair said
he wasn't sure where they were.

- It's not a big deal.
- Listen.

This is great chatting with you,
but time is not my friend.

I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I'll let you go.

Thanks.

Monica Pinch.

- Quickly.
- Monica Pinch.

Now, she didn't find out
that Jayne White was pregnant

until the night she died.

So if she talked to you
about it,

it must have been then, right?

Uh, I'm gonna have to back you
up a second there, Mr. Waldo.

You said that Jayne White
was the murderer.

Oh, no. I said I knew
who the murderer was.

Warren Gomes.

Does that name mean anything
to you?

- No.
- Well, he was this lawyer.

I had a little bit
of a weird thing with him.

He kept following me
for a couple days,

and I kind of lost my temper
and I confronted him one day.

We got into a little fight.

A couple hours later,
he got killed.

Yeah?

I'm just trying to piece
everything together.

The question is...
why bring it up...

he had the same kind of watch
as you.

Rich lawyer.

That's what I thought.
Only I researched them.

They'll all individually made,
right?

No two are identical.

Here's the thing...
The one he was wearing,

- it looked a lot like yours.
- Pure coincidence.

This one hasn't left my wrist
except when I shower and sleep.

But you asked Fontella
what time it was.

What? When?

At the courthouse
after Alastair's arraignment.

I'm afraid you must be mistaken.

But, uh...

Oh, fuck it.

Take a seat.

I want to hear everything
you're thinking,

soup to nuts, all right?

- Soup to nuts?
- Yes, please.

- Double-fuck the read-through.
- Let's do that. Let's do it.

- You sure?
- Yes, sir.

Buckle up.

Well, I'm thinking...

...that you knew what
Monica Pinch kept under her bed

'cause you were spending time
in her bedroom

while Alastair was spending time
with Jayne.

Mr. Waldo!

That is brilliant.

I'm thinking
that on the night she found out

that he'd gotten Jayne pregnant,
with Alastair passed out cold,

I'm thinking
that Monica called you

to tell you she was gonna
tell Alastair about your affair

to get him to quit the show
and move back to England,

like she'd been wanting.

But you couldn't afford
to lose Alastair,

not with the Jamshidi
takeover threat.

I'm thinking that you drove
over there.

You were gonna talk some sense
into Monica.

But she didn't want to hear it.

Next thing,
you guys are arguing.

It escalates,
and you pick up the Regis Award.

And you hit her with it.

You didn't mean to do it.
It's an act of passion.

Thing is, she's hit her head
on the way down,

and now she's not moving.

So you panic,
and you start wiping down

everything you can remember
touching.

But the Regis Award
was on a wooden table,

and that had bloodstains on it.

Now, I'm thinking...
I'm just thinking...

maybe you were worried that
some of that was your blood.

You could've got cut
in the fight.

So now what do you do?

You swap around some furniture.

You set the alarm
on the way out.

You get rid of the Regis
in some dumpster,

and you let poor old Alastair
wake up to take the rap.

How did I do?

Come on.

And the lawyer guy?
What...

He blackmailed you.

He even made you cough up
that fancy watch,

which you couldn't resist
taking back after you shot him.

That is quite brilliant.

In fact, I should give you
a pilot deal.

There is one gaping hole
in your narrative, however.

Why would I sabotage the biggest
asset on this network?

Come on.
That's the easy part.

You told me yourself

the scandal made the show
twice as valuable.

You knew Alastair would get off.

I mean, it's L.A.
The star always gets off.

And in the meantime,
the more publicity,

the bigger the windfall.

So what do you do?

You hire the lawyer
who'll make the most noise

and then the detective
who would make the most noise,

even though your lawyer
kept telling you

I'd be a shitty choice.

And let's be honest.
I am a shitty choice.

I've never been a P.I.
The LAPD fucking hates me.

I'm so rusty,
I'd probably be useless.

But I think you liked me
for those reasons.

'Cause that made me
the last detective

who'd ever figure out
that you killed Monica Pinch.

And Warren Gomes.

A lot of moving parts.

A lot of moving parts.

I do have one question.

What made you so sure

that you walk in here
and deliver that little pitch?

I'll be honest.

I only walked in 98% sure.

What was the other 2%?

I had to make sure
you were a lefty.

I did make one mistake, though.

I really should've waited
until the cops got here.

You... You told them to come?

Well, if I timed it right,
they're already downstairs.

Of course...
I don't have a watch.

After you.

Yeah. You just keep smiling.

Watch your haircut.

Come on.
Look alive, fellas.

Pete couldn't make it himself?

You know he's not gonna let you
out of this collar, right?

I'm gonna head
to North Hollywood.

Tell Pete I'll meet him there.

See you in court!

What are you doing?!

Get off my bike!

We're not cops, man.
We're... We're extras.

Shut the fuck up.

Fuck! Fuck!

Ho ho ho! Merry Christmas!

Fuck!

...Lady Justice.

Make sure that
he isn't prejudiced

or predispositioned...

Fuck!

"For 99 days, you do that,

and justice, in its natural
wisdom, will find its own way.

But, Johnnie," he'd say...

"...on the 100th day,

a great judge knows
that he needs to be justice."

- Ready for your close-up?
- Wait! Wait!

"...I do know
that as I sit here today..."

How are you gonna get away
with this?

A light fell on set.
Happens all the time.

Last looks.

...and find
this here defendant... guilty.

What the fuck?
This place is fallin' apart.

Waldo.

Hey, Q.

- Well, that's that, then.
- Yeah.

Would it be ungrateful
to ask what you're doing here?

I've been following you
since the recruiting office.

I even had to sit through
that Rumpelstiltskin bullshit.

- Really?
- Yeah.

How'd you get on the lot?

Snuck in on a studio tour.
Yeah.

They really need to check out
their security.

I could be, like, a crazy
stalker or something, you know?

I, uh, hope you don't mind.
I used your gun.

I was never here.

Yeah.
I can work with that.

Grand.

You do know why I saved
your ass, right?

Yeah, I got an idea.

Someone else kills you first,
I can't get what I want.

It'll be a mess.

Nobody will know what to do
with themselves.

You know, I got to say, Q,
it's not too clever

keeping your kind of business
records on a flash drive.

Is that what Cuppy thinks
is on there?

Business records.

The guy's an idiot.

Why?
What is on there?

Epic poem.

Long-ass motherfucker, too.

It's the only copy I got.

Epic poem that you wrote?

Yeah, that I wrote.

It's about the life of a dealer

trying to retain
his independence and integrity

in an era
of corporate-style cartels.

Why an epic poem?

See, me, I'm an autodidact.

Means I'm self-educated.
I had to enrich my own life.

But my little girl, Dulcy...

I'm gonna make sure my daughter
gets a real education.

That way, she ain't stuck
being no cop, no dealer.

I want to give the poem to her

so she can see the man
I really am.

Waldo, I need my mem.

I need Lorena to come back,
so...

I'll tell you what.

I want you to get my little girl

into that fancy-ass
private school.

Same one as that
British dude's kid.

Get him to help Dulcy
and bring me back my mem,

and Lorena can come back.

Have you got the juice for that?

You know, I just might.

Okay, Waldo.
You got another 24 hours.

By the way,
I love Johnnie's bench.

You know,

my granddaddy once said...

"...It's one thing to write
like a poet...

...and another thing altogether
to write like a historian.

A poet can rehash
or sing about things

not like they were
but like they should have been.

And the historian...

...well, he's got to write
about them

not like they
should have been..."

Fuckin' Lorena.

"...but like they were...

...without adding or subtracting
anything from the truth."

And might I remind you,
Counselor,

you're getting dangerously close
to rufflin' my feathers.

Do you understand the words
"contempt of court"?

Come in.

Aha!
The man of the hour.

Come here.
Deftly done, my old cockalorum.

No tongues.

Come in. Sit down.
Sit.

I want to lavish praise on you.

Is it too much of a cliché
to say...

I don't know how to thank you?

Is it too much of a cliché
to say I might have an idea?

- Shoot.
- I'm thinking you were right

about that epic
two-week pub crawl.

That's a brilliant idea.

Unfortunately, as of today...

...this is my liquor of choice.

- Sober as a judge.
- Yes.

Very good.

I may drop dead any second,

but at least now
I'm not inviting it.

I made a shambles of everything,
Waldo.

Monica's gone.

Jayne's run off with her son
or daughter... I may never know.

On the other hand,
I do have my sweet Gaby.

And the least I owe her

is the best I have.

That could take more courage
than drinking yourself to death.

Don't I know it.

Courage, mate.

Cheers.

- Ready for you, Mr. Pinch.
- Yes. Let's off.

And, uh, don't tell anyone
about this.

If they think I'm still a drunk,

they'll still let me paste
the occasional pretty boy.

I got your text.

Thanks for squaring things
with Q.

And yet all you talked about
was Pinch.

I wanted you to do that, too.

I hope I didn't cause you
too much trouble.

Oh, not at all.
I made some new friends.

Well, if you're up for it,

I've got something else
we could work together.

You know,
I don't think my face can take

much more of your action.

Oh, stop being such a princess.

You know you loved
every minute of it.

You look good.

Yeah.
You look pretty good yourself...

for a dead woman.

How'd you pull that off?

A coroner down in San Berdoo
owed me a favor.

They let me have a Jane Doe
they were gonna cremate.

So I burned her
in my ex-husband's car.

Ex-husband?

Almost ex.

What, you want me to tell you
if it what bothers me

that you got married?

I don't need you to tell me.

And you disappeared on me.
I don't owe you anything.

Hey, I didn't say you did.

Why don't you tell me
what happened to your beard?

Who was she?

You were dead.

Barely!
My body wasn't even cold.

I was grieving.

Oh, you know what?
Fuck it.

So that's it? You just breeze in
and breeze back out?

You ghosted me for three years.

Then I drive up your stupid
mountain, and you're Ice Man.

Then you come out here,
one week in L.A.,

and you've got some little...

You know what?
Forget it, Waldo.

I don't know
what I was thinking.

Fuckin' Lorena.

Jesus fucking Christ.

Fuck me.

Give you a ride somewhere?

In this?

What's it get,
four miles to the gallon?

It's a C 300.

I dropped 55K on it,
and I fucking love it.

So what's it gonna take
to get you to shut up about it?

Let me drive?

Jesus, Waldo.