All language subtitles for Psych s02e06 Meat Is Murder, But Murder Is Also Murder.eng

Good morning, dad.

I made you some of your favorite
bana nut muffins.

I had trying to get un-grounded before
robocop comes out on friday?

Did I mention I made them
all by myself?

Mm, not bad.

- What recipe did you use?
- My recipe?

Uh, I can't tell you that.
Um, it's a secret.

Well, let me see if I can guess

some of the ingredients
that you put in here.

Is that a hint of cinnamon
that I'm tasting?

Oh, yeah, just a little.

And I'm detecting just a touch of
cilantro... and thyme. Am I right?

- Whoa, dad, you're really sharp.
- Yeah, I am.

Gus, you want to come out
of the pantry?

Shawn, what have I told you
1,000 times before?

Don't hide Gus in the pantry?

No! A lie always leads to more lies.

Instead of lying to me
about baking these yourself,

and then lying to me
about your secret ingredients

that you put in, you should
have just said that Gus

baked these muffins, and I might
have let you off the hook.

- Who said Gus made them?
- Go to your room.

- I don't know where that is.
- Shawn...

Who's Shawn?

Public parking, huh?

Nice to know that
my first visit to Santa Barbara

isn't a good enough reason
for you to pop for a couple

of extra bucks for the valet.

The restaurant doesn't have
valet parking, uncle Burton.

Am I gonna need tokens
to use the bathroom?

It's been well reviewed...
It got four spoons.

Crack spoons,
from the sound of it.

- Gus, wait up.
- Shawn?

Finally. You know, I went
to two comic book stores

and three women's volleyball games looking
for you. Luckily your phone has gps.

- You tracked me?
- Yes, I did.

With a little help from my friends
at your wireless service provider.

By the way, they might be calling.

They think you're a fugitive
from justice.

Run with it.

- Who is this, Burton?
- Shawn Spencer.

He knows who you are,
he knows what you do.

Don't speak. We're going to dinner.
You're not invited.

- Let's roll, uncle Burton.
- Uh, Jules just called...

We've got a case. We should go.

You know, Shawn, maybe you should
handle this one yourself.

There's a first time
for everything.

First time for...
What are you talking about?

Sorry, Shawn, I can't make it.

For crying out loud, Burton,
the cops are handing you a case.

You've gotta take it. You're the only
psychic detective they've got.

- That's very funny.
- Don't speak.

- Just one minute.
- Yeah.

I know what you're thinking.

Of course you do,
you're a psychic detective.

A few months ago I was on the phone

with my great aunt, who's hard of hearing,
and pretty much out of it in general.

I told her I was working part-time
at a psychic detective agency.

She must've misunderstood
because now everybody

on my mom's side of the family thinks
that I'm a psychic detective...

And... you're gay.

- No.
- German?

- No.
- Invisible.

My assistant, Shawn.

- Gus, this is, uh...
- Wow! I know. It's a mess.

Why don't you just tell him it
was a simple misunderstanding?

It's too late.

I can't come clean now
without everyone thinking

that I lied to them
in the first place.

Plus, uncle Burton has had it out for me
ever since he started going by "Gus,"

even though I'm names after him.

If he figures out that I'm not psychic,
he's gonna make it his mission

- to destroy me in front of everybody.
- All right, say no more.

- You're not getting destroyed by that man.
- I'm getting hungry over here.

- Don't worry, I have a plan.
- You do.

Uncle Burton.

How would you like to come with us,
and watch your nephew in action?

Tag along with you guys
on a real detective case? Yeah.

Hey, maybe this won't be
the most boring vacation

in the world after all. Maybe.

I can't wait to watch you work
your psychic magic.

Psych 206 :
"Meat Is Murder, But Murder Is Also Murder"

o/~ I know you know o/~
o/~ that I'm not telling the truth o/~

o/~ I know you know o/~
o/~ they just don't have any proof o/~

o/~ embrace the deception o/~

o/~ learn how to bend o/~
o/~ your worst inhibitions o/~

o/~ tend to psych you out in the end o/~

Synchro: Flolo, Arbu
www.SeriesSub.com

So, how you feeling, buddy?
A little nervous?

Feel something happening in the belly?

Maybe you should do
some of your lamaze breathing.

No, you know why, Shawn?

Because your little plan to
embarrass me isn't gonna work.

As soon as the cops see
uncle Burton hanging around,

they're gonna kick him right out.
Nice try, Shawny boy.

- Hey, guys.
- Ah, Buzz.

You know, I'm not sure they're gonna
want you having any guests in here.

I mean, since it's
a crime scene and all.

- No, it's not.
- It's not?

No. There's no crime-scene
tape at the door,

the forensic guys are not
collecting any evidence,

and it seems as though you guys
don't suspect foul play,

so I've got as much right
to be here as you do.

And don't give me any of that
fancy police talk, please.

I've seen enough hill street blues
to know what's what.

I gotta go.

Hey, thanks for coming so quick.
Who's this?

This is my uncle Burton,
from New Jersey.

Shawn invited him.

Very nice to meet you,
uncle... Burton?

His mother named him after me.

It's not a very common name, but
some of us still use it proudly.

Jules, what's the skinny?
What do you got?

Vince Wagner,
longtime restaurant critic

at the Santa Barbara mirror,
died suddenly after eating

his wife's chicken soup.
All signs point to natural causes,

but the wife's acting
a little suspicious.

I want to make sure
I didn't miss anything,

so I'd like for you
to get a reading on her.

- Then that's what we will do.
- She's in the den.

Finally a chance to see
Gus' psychic powers at work.

Shawn, can I speak to you
for a second?

- What is the problem here?
- Stop playing, Shawn...

You know I can't do this!

- Yes, you can.
- No, I can't.

You make some observations,
you form a conclusion,

and you reveal it to everybody
in a ridiculous and/or roundabout way.

- What are you talking about?
- I'll show you.

Raw chicken next to vegetables,
charred pots, and a refrigerator

full of take-out containers.

What does that tell you
about the wife?

I don't know. She sucks at cooking.

- Oh, you're on fire.
- What?

Uncle Burton, come quick...
It's happening!

Shawn, stop it. Stop playing!

Put your hand to your head.
It really helps sell the thing.

I'm not doing it, Shawn.

This better be worth
skipping dinner for.

He's a psychic wildebeest.

I'm... I'm seeing something.

I'm sensing something.

I'm tasting something.

It tastes bad.

- She's a bad cook!
- You sound just like my husband.

Mrs. Wagner?
Oh, please, excuse my partner.

His psychic visions are often
terribly impolite.

No need to apologize.

I really am a terrible cook.

I'm very sorry for your loss.

I'm sensing that you're at peace
with your husband's passing.

Well, not exactly at peace.

But it wasn't easy being married
to a food critic.

He graded everything I did.

Surely he couldn't have
graded everything.

I never broke two stars.

Well, that's...

- Awfully harsh.
- So why did you keep on cooking for him?

Health reasons.
He had gotten a worrisome checkup

from his doctor recently,
he ate out every day

for his job, and always brought
the leftovers home, so

I started making him healthy,
home-cooked meals just once a week.

That's what dinner was tonight.

Thank you for your time, Mrs. Wagner.
You have our condolences.

She didn't kill him.

If she wanted him dead,
she wouldn't have cooked him

- healthy meals once a week.
- Great, let's just tell the police,

and get uncle Burton out of here
before they ask us anything else.

Check it out.

I went to candy emporium,
this time for research.

There are over 100 flavors
of lollipop on the market,

not one of which
turns your tongue black.

- Can you believe that?
- What are you talking about?

Right before we left, I caught a quick
glimpse of the critic's mouth.

His tongue was coated black.

Now, what else could possibly
cause something like that?

Bismuth subsalicylate.

That dude that used to play
for the mavericks?

No, Shawn, it's the active ingredient
in those pink stomach medications.

He must've had some. Look, let's talk
about this later. My uncle is...

Gus. The critic was murdered.

I thought you said
the wife didn't kill him.

She didn't. He was complaining of
an upset stomach before dinner.

He asked for chicken soup.

That's the ultimate
"I'm feeling sick" meal.

Except, of course, for a tub of
bacon grease and hotdog water.

- But usually...
- Shawn, this place is a sty.

Maybe you ought to tidy up
once in a while, huh?

Or did you forget
that you're the assistant?

You are absolutely right, sir.

The person who's not the psychic
detective should be in charge

all the cleaning. It just makes sense.

Meanwhile, Gus here has new psychic
knowledge about yesterday's case.

- Yeah?
- No, I don't, Shawn.

I mean, I shouldn't spent
so much time working

- when I've got family in town.
- Oh, don't be ridiculous, Burton.

You think diagnosis murder ever let
family get in the way of his work?

Another excellent point.
I bet diagnosis murder never did that.

Go ahead, Gus, call up on the spirits.

Ask them what happened
to the dead critic.

Fine.

o/~ oh, spirits always willing o/~
o/~ to lend a helping hand o/~

This psychic stuff can get
a little wimpy, huh?

At least he's not doing it
in the tutu and capezios.

I asked you to help me solve
the murder of Vince Wagner.

Show me what transpired.

I'm seeing something.

I'm seeing...

I'm seeing...

I don't know what I'm seeing.

Wait, wait.

It's coming clearer now.

Somebody put something in his food...

At a restaurant.

And that is what made him sick.

Sick to the point of having a seizure.

No, no, no.

That's what killed...
That's what killed his nose.

What?

- That's what killed him.
- Whoo, Gus!

You are so amazing with that stuff.

If it wasn't for his psychic talents,
I'd have to get some lame job

at a pharmaceutical company
or something.

That happens to be a very
exciting industry, Shawn.

Now let's go and tell the police
our new revelation.

Uncle Burton, wait here.

No way. If I wanted to sit alone in a dirty
room, I'd have stayed at home with my wife.

I'm going with you guys.

Killed his nose?!
You went like this.

How do you kill a nose?!

Shawn, that visitor's badge is
not gonna hold him up for long.

I can't be psychic
in front of the cops.

Don't worry, I have a plan.

I'm gonna go in Vick's office,
you wait here.

- For what?
- My signal.

The stuff you did in the office,
genius, all of it.

But I wanted you to say
"poison," Gus. Poison.

- Get it right this time.
- This time?

Shawn, what are you about to...
There's no time to explain!

Ham pencils!

Sheila e. Tomato bark!
Velvety shark toast...

Shark toast!

Is there something wrong
with you, Mr. Spencer?

You picked today
to ask him that question?

Dude, Lassie,
what happened to your arm?

- I don't want to talk about it.
- He won't tell us either.

And what were you saying
when you came in?

- I couldn't understand any of it.
- Oh, Jules, it's this case.

These visions I'm having,
they're so intense,

I can't even describe them.

Every time I open my mouth,
the wrong fishes come out!

- You mean "words"?
- Isn't that what I said? Oh, no.

If only there were someone here
that could translate.

You know, someone who's known me so
long they understand everything I say.

Someone just slightly
less handsome than I am.

Gus! Perfect... This is perfect.

- Gus, Gus, get in here.
- What?

Oh, mambo beef puddles!
Swirly-whirly jungle pants!

Quick, translate that
into normal words for us.

Man, they made me fill this thing out
for six pages of paper work,

and they didn't put
my picture on it.

- Sorry, who are you?
- Don't ask anymore questions.

No one. Concentrate, Gus.
Tell us that all this means.

Swirly-whirly jungle pants.

It means the critic ate something
he wasn't supposed to.

- Two bones and a skull.
- Two bones and a sku... poison.

Yes, the critic was poisoned.

Man, this is better
than "Ghost Whisperers".

Guys, we checked the wife's soup.
It's clean.

And am I now supposed
to believe that Guster here...

- Carnival stud muffin... Huh?
- What?

It wasn't the wife. The critic
was poisoned at a restaurant.

Now, that makes sense.

Wagner was pretty harsh
on his own wife's cooking.

He was probably even harder
on the restaurants he reviewed.

He could have easily been poisoned by
a chef who got a bad review.

- Do you think so?
- Yes. Yes. Yes.

Okay...

Call the lab.
I want a tox report on my desk asap.

You're actually listening to this?

Well, we've gotten information
in stranger ways before.

Never hurts to check it out.

Burton, that was fantastic.
How do you do that stuff?

He can't talk tight now,
uncle Burton.

Psychic episodes like that
leave him very, very parched.

No, no, no, let me
get you some water.

Down those stairs,
around the corner.

Thank you.
What do we do now?

We've gotta figure out
what that critic ate.

If he was poisoned by a chef,
it had to have been something

he consumed in the 24 hours
leading up to his death.

- How do we do that?
- Well, Wagner's wife said,

he brought all of his
left overs home, right?

The refrigerator was packed
with take-out containers.

The one on top was probably
the most recent.

The restaurant it came from was...

- The curvy a.
- "The curvy a"?

That doesn't sound like
a place that serves food, Shawn.

It's not the name, it's
the symbol on top of the box.

Come on, man, you eat out
all the time.

What place has a big,
swoopy, curving a?

I don't know.
What does it look like?

- Antonio's.
- Sweet!

- Why did you write on my hand?!
- Why would I write on my own hand?

- This thing is totally permanent.
- Wha... Shawn!

Let's make this quick before
uncle Burton starts thinking

of sticking 'em with the check.

Fire up the entrees
for the eight-top.

Mario, where are my starters?
Hurry up!

Hey, chef Antonio.

We'd like to ask you
a couple questions.

Sorry, guys, no customers
allowed in the kitchen, okay?

No, we're not customers.

We're from the health department,
here for a surprise inspection.

Again? We just had the surprise
inspection a few days ago.

- Why, is there a problem?
- Yes.

- You weren't surprised enough.
- Let's make this quick.

Walls and the floor are clean.
Drainage is clear.

Hand washing station is stocked
with soap and clean towels.

Dry food storage over there,
walk-in freezer over here.

Looks good.

Aren't you supposed to check
the temperature?

Of course. Gus, go ahead,
check the temperature.

- Me? Why do I have to do it?
- Dude, I'm wearing short sleeves.

So did you hear what happened to
the food critic down at the mirror?

- That's some nasty business, huh?
- Sure, I heard about Wagner.

I don't say I'm sad.

Ten years I've been working in this
town, that man never gave my food

a good review.

Sounds like you're not
very fond of the guy.

Vince Wagner made my life miserable
with his asinine reviews.

Honestly, I am glad that
that bastard is dead!

Chef Antonio!

You're under arrest
for the murder of Vince Wagner.

- Take him.
- Murder?

Is this a joke? I...

- Who put you up to this?
- Jules, what's going on here?

Tox screen came back positive.

Apparently Wagner ate a poisonous
mushroom called the "death cap."

What are you saying?

There were death caps
in the mushroom risotto

Wagner ate here
the day before he died.

We found the leftovers
in his fridge.

Looks like
you were right, Shawn... Or Gus.

Or... Whoever.

What a relief. We caught the guy,
we solved the case,

and best of all, I don't have
to be psychic anymore.

What?

We got the wrong guy.

Guys, it's not
that complicated.

Whenever a critic eats
at his restaurant,

- Antonio prepares the meal himself.
- Not this time.

The mushrooms in the take-out container
we cut into cubes.

Antonio cuts his mushrooms
into strips.

Lassie, I have a really
strong vibe he didn't do this.

Look, we know Antonio
hated Wagner.

Wagner died from eating his risotto.
We have the risotto.

We even have Wagner's notes
proving he ate the risotto.

It's a slam dunk.

That's Wagner's notebook.
It says the risotto was cold.

- So?
- So...

Whoa... The sandpaper
with the bana patch!

I think he means
the risotto was cold.

- Thank you, Gus.
- You're welcome.

Why would food be served cold at a
five-star restaurant, unless...

Unless the poisoned food was
cooked somewhere else?

You know what I think?

Case is closed.

Hey, guys. I want to thank you for
an incredible day, Burton.

You're a regular rockford files.

Did my uncle just thank me
for an incredible day?

A more important question,
how much tv does he watch?

I'm serious, Shawn.

My cousin took him to the super
bowl on a helicopter,

and he never even
thanked him for that.

I'm serious too. He's like this crazy,
tank-shaped encyclopedia of detective shows.

I be he even saw manimal.

- You're right.
- About manimal?

Shawn, we have to solve this
case before he leaves.

- Why?
- Because, I think I've finally

figured out how to get back
on his good side.

I've been seeking uncle Burton's
approval all my life.

He's mean to everybody.

But ever since he started
tagging along on this case,

he's been kind of nice to me.
You know why?

You don't have the braids anymore.

He likes detective shows
if I could solve this case

before he leaves, he may finally get over
the whole "Gus Burton" thing.

- But I'm gonna need your help.
- All right, fine, Mr. Psychic detective.

Tell me, since Antonio clearly
didn't kill the critic, who did?

I don't know.

Maybe we should find out
if anyone else hated him.

- See who else may have had a motive.
- What?

You're gonna start a crime-fighting
revolution with talk like that.

Shawn, you say stuff like that
all the time!

Phil Pritikin,
Mr. Editor-in-chief.

Shawn Spencer...

Long-time reader,
first-time caller...

What's going on with
the sunday spread?

Layout's waiting for your
approval on the mock-up.

"Mock-up," funny word.
Like I was saying...

- Where' Salazar's Alderman story?
- She's typing it up.

- Do you want copy to read it first?
- No, just send it straight here.

Anything else?

You know, Phil, now that you mention it,
I would very much like...

- Does he work here?
- I don't believe so, sir.

Son, I'm a busy man.

If you don't work for me,
I don't have the time.

I just have a question
about Vince Wagner.

Cooper, these guys got questions.

Oh, I also have an idea
for a crossover strip,

where Dilbert finally
meets marmaduke.

Did you guys need something?

Hi, I'm Burton Guster,
with the sbpd.

We're investigating
the murder of Vince Wagner.

I'm Cooper. I was
Mr. Wagner's assistant.

Great. Maybe you could help us out.

Do you know of anyone who may have
had a grudge against your boss?

Are you serious?

We call them the angry chef letters.
Every chef who ever got a bad review

would write a nasty letter
to Mr. Wagner about it.

So you're saying
this is all hate mail?

I don't know
if I'd call it all hate mail.

It ranges from
"mild dislike" mail

- to "extreme abhorrence" mail.
- How about "I wish you were dead" mail?

Oh, we have those too. Back here.

Any one of these chefs could
have cooked the poison risotto

and snuck it into
Antonio's restaurant.

You're right. We should talk to all these
chefs before they open for business.

Call the restaurants
and make a reservation.

- For justice.
- Is justice the time

- or the number of people in our party?
- Just call 'em.

And make it for three.
Uncle Burton's coming.

All right.

So what did you think of Vince Wagner?

Looky here, he was a jackass.

You know what he called
my award-winning jambalaya?

"Jumba-lousy!"

Now tell me if this ain't the best damn
jambalaya you've never had in your life.

You know what he wrote in his review
of my famous miso yellow tail roll?

"Miso disappointed."

Don't laugh.
It's not funny.

No, it's not.

Let's put it this way.

He once referred to
my white chocolate tiramisu

- as "ass cake".
- Oh, now that just seems mean.

I didn't kill him.
I was here that night cookin'.

Had a bunch of big groups.
Never even left the kitchen.

I was either in the kitchen or
out here talking to customers.

I own this place.
I have to watch over everything.

Every bowl, every noodle,
every chopstick...

I didn't kill him. I definitely
thought about it a couple of times.

I could never figure out
why that guy was so angry.

He ate out at fancy restaurants
all the time for free,

and still, all he did was complain.

Ask her some more questions.
Maybe she'll give us some cookies.

I'm confused...
Why are you here?

Wagner never even
reviewed my restaurant.

Oh, make it right.
There it is.

That was, without question, the tastiest
dead-end we have ever gone down.

Well, at least it wasn't
a complete waste of our time.

It seems to me like any of these chefs
were way to busy to murder the critic.

Matlock never ate this good.

I'm going back to the car
an unbutton my pants.

You know... I've been thinking about
what that dessert chef said.

Wagner got to eat out at
fancy restaurants

every day on the newspaper's dime.
If I was him, I'd be happy.

I mean, who wouldn't want
to have that job?

That's a good point.

That's a really good point, Gus.

I think you're right...
We were wrong about the chefs.

Maybe this wasn't about revenge at all.
Maybe this was about...

Somebody wanting
the restaurant critic's job.

- Someone who works at the newspaper.
- Exactly.

We need to get down there
and talk to the editor.

Wait, wait, Shawn,
he's not gonna talk to us.

He doesn't talk to anybody
who doesn't work for him.

I don't think that will
be a problem.

Okay, I think
I have something here.

You, sir, are left-handed.

You have a new baby at home,

you just covered a story
somewhere in the midwest,

and you... You just really,
really need to pee.

Just go.

All right, you convinced me.

Congratulations, you're our
new astrological forecaster.

Now get out of here, you've got a job
to do, you've got a deadline to meet.

- Hey, dude. Did you read my horoscopes?
- Yes. They're terrible.

Horoscopes are supposed to be vague,

so that people can interpret them
to mean whatever they want.

Yours are all way too specific.

I wrote them with
specific people in mind.

"Aries: calcium is especially
important to you right now,

Mr. Salt & Pepper hair
with a maroon car."

"There may also be a promotion
in your future."

"Try walking backwards
through doorways for good luck."

- Carlton, are you expecting a promotion?
- No.

Come on, O'hara, don't be so naive.
It's a horoscope...

- It's nonsense.
- Detective Lassiter, may I have a word?

Of course.

Let's see, what's mine?

Libra: Your one true love
will be wearing sneakers

and an apple jacks tee shirt.

That's kind of a weird detail.

Phil! Hiya...

Wondering if I could ask you
a couple questions about this

restaurant critic job.

- Great, you too.
- I'm sorry?

Everybody, from the ombudsman
to the delivery boy

wants to be the new restaurant critic.

I know it's the cushiest gig
in all of journalism,

but I hired you to write horoscopes,
and that's what I expect you to do.

Whoa, Phil, I think
you're getting the wrong idea.

I just could sense
that you're totally swamped.

I figured I'd come on in,
offer up my sooth sayer services...

Sayer services?

- Sooth services.
- Sooth services...

To help you pick
the best candidate for the job.

I guess you are pretty sharp.

Applications are over there.
Keep it quiet though.

Every single person who works here

is playing some sort of angle.
To get the restaurant critic job.

Sir, meeting in five.

You know, these cheetos are
so crispy, yet airy.

And its subtle flavor is such a

wonderful contrast to
its eye-catching color.

I get it!

Every day with the cheetos.

Shawn...

There is 100 applications in here.

That's 100 suspects.
My uncle's flight leaves today.

We don't have time to talk
to 100 people, Shawn.

We don't need to.
We just need to talk to the one guy

that can link one of those people
to the murder weapon.

And who's that?

Delicious.

Are you sure about this guy?

He's the only mushroom farmer
in the tri-county area.

If anyone can help us, he can.

Mr. Mooney, thanks again for
taking the time to speak with us.

So, how many types of mushrooms
do you grow here?

A couple of hundred,
depending on the season.

Does that include a mushroom
called the "death cap"?

The death cap? Heck no, man,
those things are poisonous.

Besides, they only grow in the wild.

Well, let's say we were looking
for the death cap around here.

- Where would we find it?
- Well, I know a few places in the hills.

Why do you ask?

Why do you ask
why do I ask?

Why do you ask why do I ask
why do you ask?

Why do you ask why do I ask

- why do you ask why do...
- Shawn!

I'm... I'm just curious.

Yeah, well, a guy came in here
a couple of weeks ago,

and he had
the exact same question.

Do you remember this person's name?

Can't say that I do, but I remember
exactly what he looked like.

- Can you give us a description?
- Yeah, okay, man.

The guy was about
nine-feet tall, right.

He had sunshine coming out of his mouth,
and he had a hippotamus for a hand.

- I don't think I have any more questions.
- Yep, that'll do it.

Okay, uncle Burton, just let me know
when you're all packed up,

and I'll pick you up and take you
to the airport. All right.

We spent two hours riding up
to that mushroom farm,

and we're right back
to when we started.

Don't be such a gloomy you, Gus.
Look at the bright side.

- Now we know the killer is a he.
- And that he has a hippopotamus for a hand?

That helps us out a lot.

- Dad, what are you doing here?
- "Sagittarius :

Please return the bb gun you confiscated
from your son in the second grade."

P.S., you are a cranky-pants."

That's an amazing coincidence.

Didn't you confiscate a bb gun
from me in the second grade?

Look, Shawn, here's your stuff.

Next time you want something from me,
be an adult and ask for it.

Passing yourself off as a psychic,
that's bad enough.

But horoscopes...
Shawn, Shawn!

What if some idiot out there
reads this crap

- and decides to take it seriously?
- Dad,

it clearly states that
astrological forecasts

are for entertainment
purposes only.

Besides, I only took the job for a case.

We're investigating
the restaurant critic murder.

The cops already have a suspect,
but we're pretty sure that chef Antonio

- was framed.
- Then I assume you know all about the

veggie burger incident.

Of course we know about
the veggie burger incident, dad.

We're professional detectives.

- Gus...
- Googling it.

Shawn, you know, maybe
instead of wasting your time

writing this garbage for the newspaper,
you might try reading it once in a while.

A couple of months ago, vegetarian
customers at Antonio's restaurant

started complaing about how bland
the vegetarian burgers were.

In my personal opinion, you eat
a burger without beef in it,

you've lost the right
to complain about flavor.

I've heard that speech before. Just call
someone a hippie and get to the point.

The point is Antonio decided
to make the burgers tastier

by adding beef broth to the recipe.

Oh, great, all the complaints stopped,
till some crazed vegan lady...

- By the name of "dwyer."
- ... Found out about it,

and started organizing boycotts
against Antonio's restaurant.

They've been feuding ever since.

This guy secretly fed beef
to vegetarians?

Why are we trying
to get him out of jail?

Because he didn't kill the critic.
Take a look at this article, Shawn.

She advocates any action to put
chef Antonio out of business

for the veggie burger incident.

She calls herself the "vegan vigilante".

How very villainous of her.

You think she could've framed Antonio
for Wagner's death or what?

Only one way to find out.

Do you know where
this dwyer lady might be?

Sure, I saw her at the drive-thru
a couple of days ago.

That's very helpful, dad.

What makes you think
she'll be there today?

Meat is murder!

Stop eating your fellow creatures!

All animals have got
the right to live!

Meat is murder!

I hate it when my dad's right.

Stop eating your fellow creatures!

All animals have got the right to live.

Yo, vegan vigilante lady.

- How long have you been out here?
- Three days.

We heard that you had
a grudge with chef Antonio.

- Were you near his restaurant recently?
- Yeah,

I led a protest outside of
his place on Tuesday night.

Tuesday night?

Excuse us.

That was the same night
the critic was poisoned.

Dude, I think we just found our killer.

Detective Lassiter, SBPD!

- Who's in charge of this freak fest?
- Guys, we got your message.

Will you please tell us
what this has to do with the...

Case?

- Nice shirt.
- Thanks.

Did you buy that today
by any chance?

This old rag?
Nah.

I've had this thing
for just about forever.

Remember when I sent off
those cereal box tops to get this thing?

You didn't do that.

- Sure I did.
- No, you didn't.

It was the same year you got
your first cabbage patch...

Shut up.

- I remember.
- Why do you ask, Jules?

All right, this wack job is in violation
of at least six different

municipal codes, and
she smells like curly fries.

I say we cut her loose, take her down.
Where's the restaurant manager?

He's probably inside
managing the restaurant.

Copy that.

Wait for it.
Wait for it...

- Is there a problem?
- No, no, I'm just...

Making sure I'm not being followed.

Good cop... Always aware
of his surroundings.

I better go help him.

Uncle Burton.

Burton, I got here
as soon as I could.

Who are all these strange people?

It's all a part of our investigation.
We had to come check out a lead.

- Thanks for meeting me down here.
- Oh, no problem.

That ride in the cab gave me
a chance to fill out this postcard

letting everybody in the family know
about our psychic detective.

Well, I hope you saved
some room on there...

- 'Cause I just solved the case.
- Yeah?

A few months ago, chef Antonio
put beef broth in his veggie burgers

at his restaurant, infuriating
vegetarians all over Santa Barbara.

That woman tried to
put the chef out of business.

But it didn't work.

So instead, she poisoned the critic,
and framed chef Antonio for it.

What are you talking about?
I never poisoned anybody.

You guys are nuts.

Hey, watch the way you talk to my nephew,
'cause he can see right into your soul.

You were there
on the night it happened,

and I'm sure that seeing the chef behind
bars must make you pretty happy.

Well, of course
it makes me happy.

He didn't have respect
for the rights of animals.

- Meat is murder.
- But murder is also murder, Miss Dwyer!

We'll be right there.

Guys, there's been
a development in your case.

Someone died from eating death caps,
that were discarded downtown yesterday.

- Yesterday?
- Yesterday?

Dude, it couldn't be her. She's been
chained to a pole for three days.

Plus, we're now here near downtown.

She still could've done it.

She could have easily
have slipped out of here

- and done it when no one was around.
- Actually, she couldn't have.

We have a rough description of the
suspect that threw the mushrooms away.

It was a six-foot tall man.

Psychic... Bogus.

Our second victim was a homeless man.

Ate a bag of death caps he saw
being tossed in a dumpster yesterday,

then went to the health clinic today
after complaing of abdominal pains.

He died a few hours ago.

What else do we know about the
person who discarded them?

Not much. The victim died before he was
able to give us an accurate description.

And chef Antonio was in custody,
so it looks like he's innocent.

Not if he had an accomplice.
Now that we've got the chef,

his partner's out there
trying to dispose of evidence.

Let's go down to lockup,
talk to that chef.

Thanks.

See you later.

- Where was the dumpster located?
- At the corner of Laguna and Vista.

Shawn, we were on
the right track.

Laguna and Vista is across
the street from the newspaper.

Whoever threw out those mushrooms
works at the paper.

We have to go back
over there.

- Uncle Burton's flight leaves in an hour.
- I don't care.

Do you know what's at stake here, Shawn?
My entire future with my family.

Yeah, that, two unsolved murders,
and an innocent man who's still in jail.

But your family too.

Dude, we still have no idea
who the killer is.

And it's gonna take longer
than an hour to figure that out.

Fine, let's go
to the stupid airport.

Listen, Burton,

maybe you're not all to blame
for fouling up this case.

I mean... I can't help but think that
you'd do better at this detective business

if you didn't have Shawn
weighing you down.

I mean, I don't see what
he's bringing to the operation.

You're psychic, he's not.

- What do you need him around for?
- You know,

Gus, your uncle has a point.

What I'm trying to say is it was murder,
she wrote, not murder, they wrote.

- That's true.
- Oh, this is great.

I left some of my clothes at the hotel.

Maybe if somebody hadn't
rushed me down to the burger stand,

I wouldn't have forgotten to pack
my new yellow hippo shirt.

- You mean your hip shirts?
- No, I mean my hippo shirt.

I bought a couple of 'em
down on state street.

You know, normally I don't go for
modern fashion, but these hippo shirts,

they make my arms look so huge.

They've got a nice little hippo logo
right on the sleeve... See?

Nice.

He had sunshine
coming out of his mouth.

He had a hippotamus
for a hand.

Gus, I just figured it out.

Who had the best access to the person
picking the next restaurant critic?

Think about it.

Uncle Burton, you might be
a little late for your flight.

So I'm proud to announce that our
new restaurant critic will be...

My hard-working assistant Nick.

Thank you so much, sir.

I am so surprised. I honestly
didn't expect to get this job at all.

That's not exactly true, is it?!

- Whoa, Gus...
- Don't worry, I got it.

You knew that Phil Pritikin
would give you this job.

That's why you murdered Vince Wagner.

- Wait...
- I said I got it.

Hang on, hang on.

- You're saying he's the killer?
- Yes.

And I'm going to tell you
exactly how he did it...

In just a second.

You never told me
how he did it.

- Why do you think I'm trying to stop you?
- What are we gonna do?

My uncle thinks I'm the psychic,
the newspaper thinks you're a psychic,

and the cops think I'm just
translating your visions.

- Give me a second to think.
- Hurry up.

Okay, I have a plan.

Blurt out something
nonsensical... Do it now.

Keylaces, shoeboards, pineapples!

Oh, no. The visions have become
too complex for one person to decipher.

- Gus, might I offer my help?
- Yes, Shawn, you...

Magic head.

Two heads working together as one.

You!

You wanted the most coveted job
the paper had to offer,

and you were in the good graces of
the one guy that could give it to you,

but there was a problem.
Now...

What was that problem?

The problem was Wagner
was never going to retire.

So what did you do?

You hatched a plan
to force Wagner off the job.

The first thing you need was a fall guy.

Unfortunately, Lee Majors
wasn't available.

Apparently, he was available.
He lives here in town.

But he was a little
out of your price range,

so you flipped through Wagner's hate
mail, and you discovered that

chef Antonio was the perfect candidate.

You knew Antonio's signature dish
was his wild mushroom risotto,

so what did you do?

You tracked down
some death cap mushrooms,

and baked 'em into a risotto
that resembled Antonio's.

But you made two mistakes.
First...

You sliced your mushrooms into
cubes instead of strips, and second...

Wagner noticed that
his risotto was cold.

Why would risotto be served cold
in a five-star restaurant?

Because... Antonio didn't cook it.
You snuck it in.

We just had a surprise
inspection a few days ago.

A simple call to the county
will confirm that there were no real

health inspectors at
antonio's restaurant that night.

You posed as one.

And that gave you the cover you need
to switch out the risotto

with your poisoned batch.

Stop!

Wagner died, Antonio was arrested,

and no one suspected
you were the real killer.

This... This is preposterous!

You can't just walk in here and
accuse someone of being a murderer!

Well, actually we can.

Damn right we can.

They guy you went to about the mushrooms
remembers exactly what you look like.

After he toned down
the drug-induced exaggerations.

Tall guy...

Orange cheese powder
around the mouth...

And a hippo logo on his sleeve.

Al Mooney is insane!

- Nobody will believe what he says.
- Hang on a minute.

I don't believe anyone said
the witness' name.

You're under arrest.

- Cuff him, guys.
- Busted.

I want to talk to a lawyer.

Looks like you're finally able
to communicate your visions again.

It feels good
to be back, Jules.

Matter of fact, I'm having
another vision right now.

You and me celebrating
over dinner, drinks.

Hmm, sounds like
you're still a little off.

- Whew, another case solved.
- Yeah.

Now, let just get your to the airport.

For what... My flight left
five minutes ago.

Are you mad?

No...

Why would I be mad
at you, Gus, huh?

Guys, there's been
a bank Robbery downtown.

Chief Vick's asking for you.

A bank Robbery.
Man, that sounds exciting.

You guys don't mind
if I tag along, do you?

- Well...
- Of course not.

Wait for me.

Don't worry, I have a plan.

Gus, take it easy.

And, Shawn, don't forget
to vacuum the office every night.

I'm all over it, uncle Burton.

Matter of fact,

you might just want to check out
this little ditty before you go.

What's that?

Well, Gus, I learned from your uncle
that I need to be a better assistant.

So I have taken the liberty to draw up
a new employment contract

that spells out the duties of the
psychic detective's non-psychic associate.

- Assistant.
- Assistant.

Things like cleaning,
emptying the trash,

- doing the dishes...
- Thank you, Shawn.

- I'll sign it later.
- Nah,

sign it now before
he changes his mind.

- Yeah, Gus, before I change my mind.
- I'm not signing that, Shawn.

- And why the hell not?
- Because...

Look, uncle Burton,

I gotta tell you something, and
I know you're gonna be disappointed.

I know, I know.
You're confused because I'm here.

You don't know whether
to sign it "Burton" or "Gus".

Let me tell you, son.

Your psychic abilities help solve crimes,
it makes the world a better place.

Thanks to you, the Burton legacy
will live on.

So sign that thing any way you want to.
You've got my blessing.

Is that what you were
going to tell me?

- Pretty much.
- Yeah. Yeah. Okay.

Take it easy, fellas.

We'll see ya.

Well, there you have it.
You can sign it any way you want.

I'm not signing that, Shawn.

Dude, you can sign
anything you want.

He said.

You could sign it
"Don Cheadle."

I'm not signing.

D'brickashaw Fillington.

Delroy Lindo!

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