Psych (2006–2014): Season 2, Episode 6 - Meat Is Murder, But Murder Is Also Murder - full transcript

Moody newspaper food critic Wagner was poisoned with wild mushrooms. To impress Gus's visiting uncle Burton, Shawn allows an apparent role switch, which means he must cue his clueless partner unnoticed, but hopes to get payment in kind. Shawn soon realizes their first suspect, a disgruntled chef, must be set up by the real poison killer, who is motivated by another competition.

Are you wondering how healthy the food you are eating is? Check it -
Good morning, dad.
I made you some of your favorite banana nut muffins.
Oh yeah? 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.
♪ I know you know ♪ ♪ that I'm not telling the truth ♪
♪ I know you know ♪ ♪ they just don't have any proof ♪
♪ embrace the deception ♪
♪ learn how to bend ♪ ♪ your worst inhibitions ♪
♪ tend to psych you out in the end ♪
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.
♪ oh, spirits always willing ♪ ♪ to lend a helping hand ♪
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.
- 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.
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.
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?
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.
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?
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...
- 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.
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?
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 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.
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?
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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