Psych (2006–2014): Season 4, Episode 2 - He Dead - full transcript

Shawn and Gus arrive at the scene of a plane crash in time to find that the pilot wants the duo to avenge his death - and the two proceed to investigate the man's pretentiously wealthy family.

Are you wondering how healthy the food you are eating is? Check it -

I'm not feeling well.

Come here.
Let me take a look.

150-degree temperature.

I'm probably too sick
to go to Jimmy Peoples' house.

You better call and cancel.

Right after that, I'll call the coroner.
150-degree temperature,

- you're a dead man walking.
- I am?

I give you 5,
10 minutes to live, tops.

The good news is, this happened
soon enough for your mother

and I to start over again.
Maybe this time we'll have a girl.

How'd you know I was faking?

Your first mistake was sticking
the thermometer in boiling water.

Next time,
try putting it in a hot sandwich

or behind the television.

And why don't you want to go to Jimmy's?
They were kind enough to invite us over.

They're the weirdest family
on the entire block.

Shawn, there is something weird
about every family.

- That's what makes America great.
- They eat weird food.

All food is weird until you try it.

- I mean, they don't even eat meat.
- You mean they're vegetarians.

I think they call it "vegan".

You guys ready
for some barbecue tofu?

I think I got that same thing
you got.

I'll be right back.

Thank you, gentlemen,
for helping out.

Search and rescue is my middle name.

Our missing person
is Warren Clayton.

- The billionaire investor?
- Yes, that's the one.

His hedge fund has had an average annual
return of 20% for the last 10 years.

Mr. Clayton's private plane lost contact
with the tower around 0700.

We have reason to believe that his plane
crashed somewhere in these mountains.

Now, Mr. Spencer,
time is of the essence.

I need to know of any signals that
you pick up that can lead us to him.

Okay, people, our window
of finding Clayton alive is closing.

So let's move on out.

Face it, Spencer,
you don't have a chance

of finding that downed plane
before we do.

But... have a nice walk.

Let's go.

Note to self:
get one of those for the office.

I hope you have a plan as to how
we're going to find this crashed plane.

And I hope that plan doesn't end up
with us being eaten by a bear.

- Don't worry. We have a secret weapon.
- A larger, bear-eating bear?

A map?
That's your secret weapon?

This is not a typical map,
my friend.

With large words that people
don't understand, like "latitudinal"

and "east".

This here is a map
from my father's huntsman club.

These old geezers
make their own maps with trails

and paths, landmarks,
that government maps don't even have.

We will use these shortcuts
to cover more ground than the cops can.


That sounded big.

That's a bear.
Let's get out of here.

- I'm not gonna be eaten!
- Me either!

- Did that sound like metal to you?
- It did.

That's him.

Dude, we're heroes.

Right. Don't worry, Mr. Clayton.
Help is on the way.

- No signal!
- All right, sir.

It's gonna be okay.
Just try to hold still.

Need to make amends.

Good father.

You understand?

You know, good father's kind
of a tricky subject for me.

Try to conserve your energy,
Mr. Clayton.


He's an Abba fan.

Find out

who killed me.

- Open your eyes. Stay with us here.
- Watch out.

I know what to do.
Mr. Clayton. Mr. Clayton.

What industry sectors do you see
outperforming the market this year?

Are you serious?

I'm trying to give him something
to think about.

It didn't work.

He's dead.

That's a lose-lose.

Psych 402
"He Dead"

Timing: Psych Team

Lower the basket
as soon as you're in position.

See you back at base camp.

- It's out of our hands now.
- Not so fast.

We've been given
a great responsibility.

How so?

Warren Clayton's dying wish.

Man, what if that had been your dad?
Or my dad?

Some other random black guy and white
guy found him with one breath left?

Wouldn't you want those dudes
to fulfill our dads' final wish?

- Especially if it was about us?
- You think of me as some random Black?

Man, we gotta figure out
what happened.

What did he mean?

I mean, was he poisoned
before takeoff,

or was he incapacitated,
and then somebody else parachuted out?

- Or maybe it was a...
- It wasn't a bear.

- I wasn't gonna say that, Shawn.
- What were you gonna say?

We know you want answers. But you gotta
understand, these things do take time.

It only takes money.

Have you found satellite imaging
of the plane before it crashed?

- Have you run a weather simulation?
- Rest assured

that the SBPD is putting
all available resources on this.

Almost all of its resources.

My name is Shawn Spencer.
I'm the department psychic.

Mrs. Clayton,

I'm receiving a psychic transmission
from your husband.

It's really more of a voice mail,
if I'm being honest.

A status update.

- Perhaps a twitter.
- It's called a tweet.

- No way I'm saying that.
- Is he for real?

In spite of Mr. Spencer's
first impression,

he is actually the one
who led us to your husband's plane.

He knew what clothes
your husband was wearing,

how his body was positioned,
even what cologne he was...

I knew what cologne he was wearing.
I mean, he did.

Well, let's hear this supposed message
from my husband.

It's a little cloudy,
Warren is very upset.

He's saying...

"murder". He's saying "murder".

Does the word "waterloo"
mean anything to you, Mrs. Clayton?

You've wasted enough of Mrs. Clayton's
time with your nonsense.

No, wait.

I'm really quite shocked.

You are?

Yes, it just doesn't show on my face
because of years of botox.

Waterloo is the name of the 18th hole
at our country club.

Warren mentioned just a week ago
that he wanted his ashes spread there.

- Yes, of course.
- Strange.

Not strange.

Psychic acumen.

You will solve the mystery
of why my husband's plane crashed.

Mr. Spencer's not been hired...

This no longer concerns the police,

as I will be financing
Mr. Spencer's operations.

I am sure the taxpayers' money
is better spent

on some social program, or a tree.

What resources will you be needing?


A case of red vines,
individually wrapped.

Two, mini fridge filled
with Cactus Cooler.

- Need a ShamWow.
- A new laptop. Tell her.

A new laptop,
preferably one made of red vines.

Gentlemen, you are no longer limited
by a police department budget.

Tell me what it will take
to get this done quickly.

Well, in that case,
I'll need to become Warren Clayton.

Go where he'd go, do what he'd do,
see what he'd see.

Very well. You will start your work

by being my guests at dinner tonight
at my estate.

The estate.

Say what?

- I'll send the car to pick you up.
- The car.


- The door.
- The door.

- Big door.
- The door!

Of course, the door.

Get out of here.

As I gently held his skull,

which was fractured
in several places,

I was able
to keep death's cold clutch

from enveloping Clayton
just long enough

for him to express his dying wish.

Shawn, that is revisionist history
and you know it.

- You had to be there.
- I was there.

- It's okay. When he embellishes...
- Lies.

- Clarifies.
- It lets me know that he cares.

But what I really want to know
is when can I meet your father?

My relationship with my father
is... complicated.

As I believe I've mentioned.
And I know you...

You'll wanna get in there
and fix everything.

And no amount of talking
or listening

or hugging is going to fix anything
between me and my dad.

I'm sorry.

I hear you,
and I'm going to stop pressuring you.

Thank you.

Besides, you already know everything
there is to know about me.

I'm really quite a simple man.

Mr. Spencer's private car is here
to take him to the Clayton estate.

- Thank you, my good man.
- We are ready.

Dinner will be served shortly.

Note to self:

be rich one day.

This is what real class looks like.

I feel like I'm in a museum filled
with priceless artifacts.

Only here you're not allowed to touch
or play with anything.

But let's not be blinded
by the bling.

Remember, we're here
to fulfill Mr. Clayton's dying wish.

- Find out who it was that murdered him.
- If he was even murdered.

For all we know,
he was hallucinating when he said that.

Make no mistake, Gus.
When I cradled the man's head

and he breathed his last breath,
he looked right into my eyes.

And I am certain he knew exactly
what he was saying.

I was there.
You didn't cradle anything.

There you are.

I'm sorry to keep you waiting.
I was putting things away.

So many memories of Clay.
That's what I called him.

Is that an ultra-high modulus
hyper carbon racket?

This is my birthday present
from him last year.

He even signed me up
for tennis lessons with Malavia.

Malavia Washington?
The one-time Wimbledon finalist?

But he's a marvelous teacher.
I never missed a lesson.

Thank you, Mrs. Clayton, for inviting us
here to your beautiful home.

My pleasure.

We're all very eager
to learn the circumstances

behind my husband's accident.

Our son is beside himself about it.

Garvin, remember mommy
telling you about the psychic

who saw why papa's plane crashed?

That's unusual.

It's very... heathers.

What do they call you?


- Vin?
- I get it, even though I was, like,

zero when that movie came out.

Man, stop trying to look cool.

I have peeps, Shawn.

You have two peeps. And one of them's
made out of marshmallow.

Mrs. Clayton, you don't mind my asking,
who is the girl in the family photos?

That's my daughter, Nyna.
She's no longer with us.

I'm so sorry to hear that.

Quiet, everyone.

Mr. Spencer will now
have a revelation

regarding the cause
of Warren's crash.

Have a revelation?

I'm not.

It's too early for that.
We haven't even had our foie gras yet.

Foie gras.

I have to decipher psychic signals.

It's very important that I tap
into your husband's aurora.

Tell me, Mrs. Clayton, does he have
a smoking jacket that I could wear?

Does he have down sheets, and if so,
are they hypoallergenic,

because I would hate
for my signals to get

all scrambled up while I'm sleeping
here tonight in your home.

Based on your earlier display,

- I expected immediate results.
- Bogus.



- He's allergic to rich white people.
- Sorry.

As I was saying,

I pay for results.

My new chin is proof of that.

Our family needs closure before
Warren's will is unsealed this weekend.

Since you are unable to deliver,
Rosa, would you put

Mr. Spencer's food
in some sort of a bag?

Where shall I have the car
drop you off?

Hold that thought.

As luck would have it,

exactly two of my psychic channels
are clearing up,

and I am getting something.

I thought you might.

[It has nothing to do with Mr. Clayton
and everything to do with you.

You've been seeing a tennis instructor
every week for the la year,

but you haven't been playing tennis.
Though you have been playing with balls.

I see a very...

- compromising image.
- I don't know what you mean.

Is that why you practice at night?

This isn't supposed to be about me.

No wonder you have
so many sexy tennis outfits.

I'm not gonna sit here and be judged.
If I were having an affair, it would be

because we have a loveless marriage,
and not through any fault of my own.

I don't talk ill of the dead.

I'll talk about him
any way I please.

In fact,
not that I owe you an explanation,

but before he died,
things had gotten better.

He was trying to be the man
that I once loved.

Funny you should chime in.

You know the Clayton's philandering ways
better than anyone,

seeing as how you were
in fact senor Clayton's mistress.


That's why you pray to St. Dwynwen,

the patron saint of dirty filthy lovers
in the nighttime.

Who is this man?
Make me make him leave.

You had an affair with my husband?

How dare you!

- You're no better, puta.
- You know what? This is all your fault.

You pushed him away
and he took it out on me.

Taking away my Porsche,
making me get a job,

selling my tiger.
And I hated you both.

You blame everybody
for your pathetic...

This family is crazy as hell.

Now we see why Warren Clayton
thought he was murdered.

As you can see, like most families,
we have our issues.

Now that you are privy to them, I expect
you to handle this with discretion.

We do have a public image
to protect.

That's going to be difficult.

Especially once I prove
that it was one of you three

who killed Warren Clayton.

Is that so?

And how is my favorite
police department doing today?

Lassie, looking handsome and jangly.

I don't say this nearly enough...

You have exquisite teeth.

Mr. Spencer, you know,
the last I'd heard

is that you'd taken an assignment
that provided you with

more benefits
than what we could give you.

Yes, unfortunately,

Mrs. Clayton and I
were unable to see eye to eye.

- In other words, you got fired.
- Or maybe I was getting too close.

Or maybe you were acting
like an obnoxious little twerp.

I'm sticking with getting too close.

It's nice to hear the word "twerp"

has survived the millennium.

Trust me on this one, chief.

There is more to Warren Clayton's
plane crash than meets the eye.

Funny, the NTSB's
preliminary report indicates

that it was an accident
due to pilot error.

The black box shows that he was coming
into SB and descended too rapidly.

Trust requires evidence,
Mr. Spencer.

I'm getting distinct visions.

Family secrets.

A large skeleton

in a closet.

Clayton was trying to make amends.

But he was being met
with infidelities and backbiting.

And front biting.

And jealousies.

I suppose it couldn't hurt

to check to see if there are
any signs of a cover-up,

just in case
there's anything to his premonition.

Chief, come on.

And you better come up
with something soon,

or this will be the second time
that you're fired from the same case.

I hear you.
Thank you for taking the leap.

What time should I expect the car?

You think you guys could spring
for a case of red vines?

This is
how I should be living by now.

Where did I go wrong?

I don't know about you, Gus,

but I was born
into the wrong family.

If I belonged to a club like this,
I'd have to cancel my membership

on account of them
letting in the likes of me.

And if you voted for me, well,

I'm afraid you

don't belong in my club either.

That doesn't even make sense.

Neither does "thoo,"
but it is a word.

No, it's not.

There's simply no way to be sure.
My point is this:

no matter how glamorous their lives
look from the outside, these...

- are not our kind of people.
- Will you stop it?

Take Mr. Clayton, for example.

He was the patriarch of his family,
yet where were they

when the life was draining
out of his body

and that sweet chariot had swung low
to carry him home?

Out philandering
and social climbing, I suspect.

Meanwhile, where was I?

- I was beside him. Like a true friend.
- Stop it.

I see the two of you
don't give up easily.

You should know that this is now
an official police investigation.

We've been granted full access,
and if your family's hiding anything,

we'll find it.

We don't hide anything
except large amounts of money,

illegitimate children, and...

the fact that we're jewish.

We may have a lot of secrets,
but killing Clay isn't one of them.

The door.

- The door.
- Right, yes. The door.

I forgot that's a thing with you.

Good luck getting anyone here
to talk to you.

She's right.

How are we gonna get people
to talk to us?

Let me guess. You've got a idea
that shouldn't work on paper,

but ultimately proves
to be reasonably successful?

So, how long you been members?

This is just a trial membership.

We only belong
to the most exclusive clubs.

- I had no idea psychics did so well.
- Most don't.

- Some do.
- Many try.

- Few can.
- I have.

Since we've been here,
everyone's been talking about Clayton.

- It's heartbreaking.
- Plain and simple.

Come on.

He was one of the best
hedge fund managers around.

One of the only guys showing
a positive return in this recession.

Which is why we put up with
some of his more eccentric behavior.

To a point.

Let's keep things interesting.
$1,000 a hole?

Sure, why not.

You guys bet like this often?

Sometimes we actually play
for high stakes.

I'm actually getting a reading
on both of you gentlemen right now.


I know it's your thing, but I don't go
for that psychic mumbo-jumbo.

What I'm seeing is that sometimes
you play for obscenely high stakes.

Like the private plane
that Warren Clayton crashed and died in.

All right. That's pretty good.

I lost the jet to Clayton
in a skins match a couple months ago.

Now, that must have made you
pretty mad.


But before anybody goes
and gets the wrong idea,

I was in Europe
when Warren's plane crashed.

Like I told the cops,
last time I spoke to Warren,

he was planning on using the plane
to travel more with his family.

He even got a private hangar
down at the airport for them.

That means everyone in his family
had access to that plane.

This is what I figure. I figure

someone in Warren Clayton's family
got to that plane

and sabotaged it before he took off.

Which means we have to get down
to that private hangar and look around.

- Let's go.
- Wait.

Don't you think you should check in
with Abigail first?

- Why? I'm not on parole.
- You told her you'd call.

You can't be your lackadaisical self
in this relationship.

Abigail is the kind of girl
that needs a certain amount of effort.

"Relationship Shawn"
needs to step up his game.

First of all,
there is no "Relationship Shawn"

or "Boyfriend Shawn."

There's just Regular Shawn
and Malibu Shawn. You know that.

Besides, I was with her this morning.
What am I supposed to check in about?

- That doesn't make any sense.
- I'm not talking about that.

- I'm talking about relationships.
- How do you know about this stuff?

- A player always knows, Shawn.
- Please.

- Man, hold on.
- Fine.

This is a surprise.
What's the matter?

Nothing's wrong.
I'm just calling to check in.

Coffee's ready.

Hold on.

Was that my dad's voice?

I'm at your dad's.

I thought we agreed.
No pressure.

Yes, I said I wouldn't pressure you.

So I set it up myself.

And it's been very interesting,
to say the least.

What did he do?
Did he fire a weapon?

- Tell me he didn't bait a hook.
- He's been a lot of fun.

You wanna see how far I can spit?

All right, that's it.
I'm coming over there right now.

No need.
We're just wrapping up.

But we're making plans for us
to have dinner sometime soon.

Great. That's...

That's great. I can't wait.

I gotta go. Bye.

Why didn't you tell me
to check in sooner?

Please, Shawn.

If someone asks what we're doing here,
what are we gonna say?

This is an airport, Shawn.
We can't sniff around.

- I don't want to end up in Guantanamo.
- Gus, don't be principal and interest.

I already have plan.

Hello sir.
We are here for our 2:00 appointment.

Is one of you guys Gus?

- Appointment for what?
- It's a flight lesson.

I'll be right with you.

Go with it.

Distract him
while I take a sniff around.

Who made the rule
that I've to be the distraction?

- Do you know what you're looking for?
- I'll know it when I see it.

It's not that pebble.
When you're finished, I'll need you

to teach me everything you've learned
about how a plane works.

Don't worry.

Flying is just like driving a car.

- It's not like that at all.
- You see that? You're gonna be fine.

I need you to sign this waiver.

Here, here, here.

Here, here, here, here, and here.

Also a copy of your driver's license
and insurance...

Dude, this is sweet.

I'll meet up with you
after you land.

I'm ready for my lesson now.

You already had it.
We just landed.

I'm ready for my lesson now.

Let me ask you a question.

How long does it take
to refuel a twin-engine plane?

20 minutes, half-hour.

Hey, buddy.

Nobody had access
to the new plane but Clayton.

And here's a new wrinkle
in the case:

guess which dead billionaire
took a four-hour stop

that wasn't
in the official flight log?

So why would Clayton
spend four hours in Bakersfield?

I'm ready for my lesson now.

Yeah, you are.

And what time did you pick him up?

Thank you, Wayne.
You've been very helpful.

All right. After calling
every car service in Bakersfield...

- Two.
- I found the one that took Clayton

- to the airport.
- So your hunch was right.

He went someplace else
while he was there.

Gus, note to self.

Remember 1600 Joshua Lane.

You can't give me your note to self.
It's a note to yourself.

Fair enough.

At that moment,
Shawn found himself alone,

unable to face the journey ahead.

You can't do
your own omniscient narration either.

Let's see
what's at 1313 Mockingbird Lane.

That's the Munsters' house.
It was 1600 Joshua Lane.

Thanks, note to self.

Thanks, jules.

So Juliet traced the address
to an environmental watchdog agency.

It's a nonprofit run
by a Mrs. Thomas.

How's that legislation
on the emissions credits coming along?

Why would Clayton come here?

Mrs. Thomas?

- May I help you?
- I certainly hope so.

My name is Shawn Spencer.
This is my associate, Jazz Hands.

Does the name Warren Clayton
mean anything to you?

Come with me.

We're investigating the circumstances
surrounding Mr. Clayton's death.

We believe
he may have been murdered.

That's karma for you.
You guys believe in karma, don't you?

Yes, we do. But only
because we are karma chameleons.

We come and go.

My psychic sensors led me here.

And I am

getting traces
of Warren's meta-essence.



And, somewhat shockingly,

- right there.
- Well, that's uncanny.

If only you were as attuned
to environmental issues.


I always forget which one is mine,
so I just open a new one.

I like the little clicky-clack sound
it makes when you...

- That one didn't do it.
- Yes, Warren did come visit me.

We talked business for a few hours,
and then he left.

Later I saw that he was dead.
I couldn't believe it.

You talked business? He didn't seem
like the environmental type.

He wasn't.

This company's been at odds with him
ever since my husband and I started it.

- He must be seven feet tall.
- That's a Masai tribesman.

Charles is standing
right next to him.

Shawn, you're wasting paper.

Rain dance.

Seriously, do you mind?

You know what they say about a man
with a large carbon footprint?

Please ignore him.
So why did Mr. Clayton come see you?

He wanted my endorsement
in a business move that,

let's just say I didn't approve of.

When I refused, things got heated.
But I'm used to Clay's temper.

So many memories of Clay.
That's what I called him.

Sorry to interrupt.
I'm Charles.

And I'm Shawn Spencer,
and this is...

Don't forget to schedule that lunch
with councilman Prather.

Sure thing.

- Nice to meet you.
- Same here.

I think you should've stuck
with the Masai guy.

What? They would've had
caramel babies with 30-inch verticals.

I'm sorry. We have to go.
Thank you for your time.

- Happy?
- You can't recycle food, Shawn.

- How many rules are there?
- Pretty much just that one.

Now I kind of want to eat it.

Let's go.

There's something
she's not telling us.

Did you see how she changed the subject
when her husband came around?

Plus she called Warren "Clay,"
which is what his wife called him.

Sounds like Mrs. Thomas is more
than just a business acquaintance.

Sounds like
she's another filthy mistress.

And she fits Warren's type.
She's all headstrong, hot in a...

female DA
or detective on Law & Order sort of way.

Like Milena Govich?

- Like an Angie Harmon.
- Like Mariska Hargitay?

Exactly. Which explains
why the meeting got all heated.

In fact, before he died, he tried
to be the man that I once loved.

Katie Erbe?


I think Warren was trying
to reconcile with his wife.

And I bet Ms. Green Jeans in there
wasn't too happy about it.

- Sounds like motive.
- We gotta get Lassie on this.

We need to get out of this office.

Take your time reading it, okay?

Because it's going to be...

Are the police still wasting
valuable time on your little theory

- that one of us is a murderer?
- Yes. About that.

I did get
a few of my psychic signals crossed.

But what is not important,
Mrs. Clayton,

- is who accused who of "partricide."
- You mean patricide.

- What's that?
- Killing a partridge.

- It's a victimless crime.
- No.

- Who's the victim?
- The partridge.

Here's what's important.

I have identified
the culprit responsible

for your husband's untimely death.
Your family is off the hook.

Finally. So who is it?
Who is responsible for this atrocity?

Another gold-digging,
yet far less exotic...

- mistress.
- Mr. Spencer's theory was confirmed

when we found out your husband
had recently changed his will.


Upon his death, the bulk of his estate
is now going to the great green hope.

Plus forensics confirmed that
the plane's altimeter was tampered with,

and our suspect had her pilot's license,
which means she knew enough

to sabotage the controls.
It's enough for a warrant.

Thank God.

Very impressive.

I'm glad my initial instinct
about you was correct, Mr. Spencer.

There's our suspect. Let's go.

Stop right there.

- Hands behind your back.
- What is going on?

Can't believe she showed up
at the will reading.

- Who does she think she is?
- My daughter?

My sister?

Who are we talking about?

Nyna Thomas,
you have the right to remain silent.

Let's go.

That's my daughter, Nyna.
She's no longer with us.

I can't believe you think
I would kill my own father.

In my defense, I initially thought
you were sleeping with him.

How pumped are you
that I was wrong about that?

But you called him "Clay"
instead of "dad" or "father".

I stopped calling him "dad" years ago
when I denounced our way of life.

Okay, then why were you so uncomfortable
when your husband came into the room?

Because I try to keep my past

from interfering
with my new life with Charles.

Then we can all agree
that this is completely your fault.

When Warren came to visit me,

to tell me some story
about how he'd changed

and he wanted to reconcile,
I promptly told him to kiss off

and keep his dirty money.

But now that he's dead, I can't help
but wish I'd given him a second chance.

Listen, Nyna's a saint. And that's why
she didn't mention the money at first.

What else have you failed
to mention, Nyna?

Well, I didn't think
it was important at the time,

but now I realize that it might be.

I overheard my dad arguing
with one of his golf buddies.

Something about a problem
with one of his investments.

Golf buddies?

- So, what can I do for you boys?
- Mr. Wiswall,

you told us that you hadn't spoken
to Warren Clayton for months.

Then I had a vision of an argument.

Something about investments,


gains. That's a...
That's a thing, right?

No flies on you.

I'm afraid that's only the tip
of the iceberg.

- You see, I'm also seeing...
- Wait, wait.

All right, all right.

Let me just set the record straight.

Just before Warren died,
I called him, livid,

about money missing from my account.

He then confessed to me

that his billion-dollar hedge fund
was a giant Ponzi scheme.

Stop right there.

I simply refuse to believe that Henry
Winkler had anything to do with this.

Wait. If that were the case, the S.E.C.
ever found out, that would mean

Clayton would be on the hook
for hundreds of millions of dollars.

And his investors would be left
with nothing.

- Including yourself.
- He'd already lost all my money.

I had to sell my house,
liquidate all my assets.

Christ, I'm living in a hotel.

No one knows,
because I've just been...

keeping up appearances
around the club.

- Please, continue.
- I was determined

to get my money back
one way or another, so...

I called Clayton
the night before he died.

I asked him to
at least return the plane.

Then I could sell it
for $5 million or so.

The bastard
wouldn't even agree to that.

Not even when I threatened
to make an anonymous tip to the S.E.C.

Who else knows
about this alleged Fonzie scheme?

No one that I know of.

I kept all the falsified documents.
Boxes full.

In case I needed proof.

I'm sensing you won't have
to hold onto them for much longer.

- Sorry I'm late.
- No problem.

Abby and I were just talking
about my time as a detective.

I'm actually surprised
that you never applied to the academy,

especially since you're kind
of doing the same thing.

We don't really need
to get into that, do we, dad?

I trained him
to be a real detective.

He wanted to be
a professional ass-wipe instead.

Well, dad, the wipe doesn't fall
very far from the ass.

Tree. And it used to bother me
when you say things like that.

But not anymore.
You know why?

Because I discovered that no matter who
you are or what family you come from,

fathers and their children
rarely see eye to eye.

Shawn, I think that you and your father
would communicate better if you...

Trap-caught prawns.

- Sounds sad.
- Right, no fixing.

I'd really love to hear
Abby's perspective on all this.


I think your father would be able
to better respect your decisions

if the two of you were able
to share more of your emotions.

- He's not really the sharing type.
- It's worth a shot.

Really, you're gonna pretend

like you've had an emotion
since Walker, Texas Ranger got canceled?

At least
I'm willing to give it a try.

Okay, all right.
Try this on for size.

You've been in a horrible,
fiery plane crash.

You're clinging to life.
All of your organs on the inside...


You have 15 seconds to live.

What message do you want to get to me,
your only son, before you die?

- I'm not gonna...
- Go.

- I'm not gonna answer.
- See what I mean?

It's a little harsh to talk
about him being in a horrible crash.

You see?
What'd I tell you?

Excuse me.

Perfect timing.

Text from Gus.

Major break in our case.

I have to go.

Dear Abby, Dr. Phil, enjoy.

Dr. Phil is bald.

- Doesn't even fit.
- You're not bald,

you're just taller than your hair.

You'd better not
be wasting our time.

Yeah, the case against Nyna
is really strong.

Prepare yourselves.

I'm about to bust open
a brand-new angle on this case,

including brand-new motifs.

- Motives.
- Like fraud. Embezzling-ment.

And sub-prime time toxic assets.

- That's a thing, right?
- You are a child.

Don't touch anything.

- He's dead.
- Man, why does this always happen?

We have to start checking first.

Possible homicide down
at Carlyle hotel.

What's a prospectus?

Investment records.

That must be the registration number
for Warren Clayton's hedge fund.

Whoever killed Wiswall must have taken
the evidence with them.

Good news.

I think I know
where they're going next.

They're probably only here
for the photo ops.

It's typical.

- Dearly beloved...
- I think Mr. Clayton would've wanted me

- to spread his remains.
- Okay, Shawn, that's enough.

You only spoke to him for,
like, 30 seconds.

- He didn't even know your name.
- We were beyond names.

If anyone close to Warren Clayton
would like to say a few words?

What do you think you're...

Warren Clayton
is communicating with me.

Take your hands off of my husband!

From in here.


in... the wind.

All we are is dust...


What are you doing?

You killed Warren Clayton.

- That's crazy.
- Is it?

Makes perfect sense to me.

Nyna wanted nothing to do
with her father's money. You did.

I know what Nyna said.
And I'm begging you to reconsider.

We could do so much with that money.

Warren refused to reconsider.

He was gonna change
his will back to its original form

when he returned home the next day.

That is precisely when you set
your dastardly plan into effect.

Like your wife, and apparently
everyone else in this family,

you have extensive knowledge
of aircraft-ery.

I can see the alti-meter
in the wreckage of Warren's plane.

- Alti-meter?
- Altimeter.


And the elevation
is off by 1,200 feet.

This means it was tampered with.

You caused the crash.

And so warren Clayton died,

before he could take your nonprofit
organization out of his will.

And you thought you were in the clear.


- What?
- Come on, dude.

Yeah, I get it.
It was that guy.

Until you heard about warren's argument
with his golf buddy, Chad Wiswall.

Knowing that Wiswall was going to blow
the whistle on the Ponzi scheme,

thus freezing Mr. Clayton's assets,

you went ahead and clubbed him too.

This is ridiculous.

Nyna, tell him.

Is that why you disappeared for hours
after my father left?

And why you were shredding paper
last night?


You deserved the money.
We deserved it.

We could've done so much good...

Officer, hold this man
until detectives Lassiter

and O'Hara arrive on the scene.

Here, take this.
My work is done.


- No need to thank me.
- That's not for you.

This is still a funeral, son.

Of course.

- Good job.
- Thanks.

I think I breathed in some dead guy.

Ground ball to second.

Davis has it.
Throw to first...

Come on in. Have a seat.
Just watching the game.

All right. About last night.

Let me be the first
to apologize for my behavior.

Considering the fact that
we've never tried to kill each other,

I'm willing to admit that our family is
not as messed up as I thought we were.

All right, very cool. Very cool.
Apology accepted.

And you know, you asked me
that question at dinner the other night,

he one about
if I only had 15 seconds left to live.

I've got an answer for you.

I'd want to tell you that...

Well, I'd do my best to express...

Look, what I want you to know...

- Wait, wait...
- That's it, pop. You're dead.

I'm closing your eyelids.
I'm taking off your watch,

putting that thing on craigslist.

Just wanted to say I love you.