Psych s07e13 Episode Script

It's very common to spot a dark-eyed junco.
But let's keep our eyes peeled for a ruddy turnstone or maybe a wandering tattler.
A wandering what? There's a lovely mature hooded oriole in the far tree.
If we're quiet, we may be treated to its song.
I'm Mr.
Booty Man I'm Mr.
Booty Man I'm sorry.
Sorry.
Damn it, Shawn.
My son just bought me this new phone.
I'm not sure how to turn it off.
H-- he must have hung up.
I'm telling you, I saw that bracelet just sitting there, and I knew-- oh, I knew something was up.
The hairs on the back of my neck--they stood right up.
Hey, Bobby, look who's back.
Who's working the evidence cage? Is Lou in there? Lou's-- no, he died, right? Not a lot of hair left to join in that celebration.
Your Dad does realize that he's retired, right? Yeah, but he had a tough year.
I mean, come on.
He got shot and-- that's really it, I guess.
If he wants to relive the old days when he was a starter in this league, - I say we indulge him.
- Now listen.
This was not a woman who just wandered into the woods and died.
Oh, no, no, no, no.
This was a deliberate and heinous act of malice.
What we must ascertain are the who, what, where, and Shawn? - Why.
- Pronto.
That's right.
Guster, no half-assing here.
Now listen, I've got a really good theory as to who's involved.
- Good game, pop.
- I think-- Good game.
We indulged him enough.
All right.
All right.
You realize your Dad worked here up to last year.
He did? What we have here is a woman.
I am guessing by this wound that she died of blunt force trauma to the back of the head.
I would place her at about I'm gonna say more like 47, Woody.
Trust me, Shawn.
I know what a 69-year-old woman looks like in her birthday suit, and this ain't it.
I said 47.
She's actually 48 years old.
Oh! See? So we were both wrong.
Shelley Aaronson, widowed, wealthy, lived on her own.
Here's the toxicology report.
This looks nothing like her.
Well, the records match her fingerprint.
How is it the same person? The same way Bruce Jenner transformed himself into Fire Marshal Bill: Cosmetic surgery.
Yep, you are right.
There are tiny surgical scars on her scalp.
Yeah, this is well done.
Clean lines, nice smooth finish.
This is Dr.
Joan Diamond's work.
I'd know it anywhere.
I saw her speaking at a symposium of forensic artists.
She also appeared on The Love Boat back when she was a Dallas Cowboys cheerleader.
Okay, so we've got a rich woman with a bunch of plastic surgery who got brained in the park.
But that is not necessarily what killed her.
There was enough botulism toxin in here to de-wrinkle all the shar peis in China.
Oh, just kidding.
Slow day.
It's some kind of cosmetic injectible called Nutox.
Quite a bit of it.
Now why is it in her blood? That's a hell of a question, Woody.
Maybe we should ask Dr.
Joan Diamond.
The doctor is ready to see you.
Oh, good.
Perhaps she can make me look both youthful and astonished.
Or Asian.
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 Just one moment while I log into the system.
Mr.
Spencer, you've listed your emergency contact as Val Kilmer.
Well, what can I say? We come strong or we don't come at all.
Perhaps you noticed my Aston Martin parked out front.
That's Dr.
Joan's Aston Martin.
But you can tell Val I'll be his Huckleberry forever.
Dude.
Look at how they do this.
Julia Roberts's mouth, Cameron Diaz's eyes, - Patricia Heaton's widow's peak.
- Wow.
Shelley "weird-scienced" herself a new face.
Jules, get ready for this.
Shelley Aaronson is not a widow.
She's married to some dude named Brad Turner.
Really? Well, that must be a recent development, because--get this-- Shelley filed a lawsuit against Dr.
Diamond before she died.
Really? And get this: We just met a woman who still has the hots for Val Kilmer.
Really? Having fun, boys? I'm sorry about all this.
I'm trying to track a shipment of beanie babies that I sent.
But in order to get the express shipping, I had to package them with three pints of human blood.
I'm Dr.
Joan Diamond.
How can I improve you today? Well, as luck would have it, I'm actually here to improve you by offering up these features as a template for new patients.
Don't need to be paid.
I'm doing it for the future of mankind.
Wow, that's quite an offer.
I'll need at least two more seconds to process it.
Hmm.
Pass.
Seriously, I take it you're here to address your lobe issues.
- My what-- - Your earlobes.
There's a slight bulbousness.
I offer an outpatient procedure that will change your life.
Just look at Denzel.
His lobes are incomparable.
Exactly.
Here's a pamphlet.
So that's how it works, huh, Dr.
Diamond? You just make people feel self-conscious and then slice 'em up? I don't make people do anything.
Oh, wait.
That's not true.
I'm about to make you disappear.
Okay, jig's up.
I'm Psychic Detective Shawn Spencer, and I am sensing that Shelley Aaronson was suing the hell out of you.
Now she's dead.
Care to comment? This is neither the time nor the place, Mr.
Spencer.
Okay.
How about here andnow? Dr.
Diamond, this guy says he needs to ask you a few questions.
Dad.
- Henry.
- "Henry"? That's my name.
Hello, Joan.
Hello, Joan.
How do you too know each other? Clearly, you haven't had any work done.
Otherwise, you wouldn't have the timber and socks and the whole pebble beach thing you got going on downstairs.
I don't even want to know what you think that means.
Your father and I have met before.
Where, the Witness Protection program? What--what's with all the mystery here? - Henry, you still look great.
- Don't--don't lie to him.
Dad, what are you doing here? I wasn't sure if you caught the plastic surgery angle.
I wanted to gather some information for you.
We're, like, seven laps ahead of you.
Henry, I don't understand.
Am I being accused of something? No.
No, of course not.
Au contraire.
You see, Dr.
Death, Shelley was suing you.
And rather than take a hit to your sparkling reputation, you whacked her with an industrial dose of face freezer.
So, end of Shelley, end of story.
How's that for an accusation? You must have been adopted.
Sure, in my dreams.
Absolutely.
What does that have to do with anything? Come on, kid, you gotta admit, that's a pretty lame movie of the week you're writing.
Sorry, pop.
Just like Boneless: The Carla Newman Story, - this movie writes itself.
- I'm sorry.
I really don't have time for this.
Henry, it was lovely to see you again.
- You too.
- Don't go far.
All right, what the hell are you doing here? Come on, Shawn, that theory of yours - is a little half-baked.
- Of course it is.
Most of my theories are.
Some of them aren't even baked at all.
Some of them are just dough.
Some of them aren't even dough.
They're just eggs and flour.
Maybe a little bit of bacon.
Bottom line-- I always catch the bad guy.
And guess what, I don't need your help doing it anymore.
Oh, so you know everything now, do you? No, just everything that you know and then some.
- Plus three.
- Okay.
Well, then good luck to you.
Dude.
I Googled dead Shelley's husband, Brad Turner.
I think I know where to find him.
You are on fire.
You are on fire right now.
Mr.
and Mr.
Nussbaum, it's time to start your couples massage.
I'm gonna kill you, Shawn.
What are you gonna kill me for? This is your lead.
Just relax.
Go with it.
My name's Brad.
This is Tricia.
Just relax, and we'll be right with you.
Hmm.
He's, like, half Shelley's age.
I better get the girl! Wow, are you tense.
Oh, yeah.
Oh, my gosh.
Tricia, Tricia, Tricia.
Your fingers are like magical baby wieners.
Sir, would you like to remove some of your clothing? Absolutely not.
Maybe just your sweater? Negatory.
Move on.
- Okay.
- Uh, Brad.
We'd like to offer our condolences for Shelley.
Hell, it's just so awful.
- Did you know Shelley? - Yes.
Yes, we met at Dr.
Joan Diamond's office.
Can I ask how long were you two married? Two weeks.
Two weeks? That's it? The only two weeks of my life that ever mattered.
Tricia, could you please get me a glass of water? Thanks.
Tricia, where are you going with those sweet sausages? So what are you guys, cops? - Ow! - No.
Not cops.
Not cops at all.
Oh, fine.
I'm Psychic Detective Shawn Spencer.
This is my brother Darryl, and my other brother Darryl.
Why don't you tell us why Shelley was suing Dr.
Diamond? I don't know.
My wife was so insecure.
I kept telling her her beauty came from within.
From within her bank account? - Ow.
- What are you saying? That I was taking advantage of a rich widow? Ow.
I think it's a little odd that you're working the day after she was killed.
- Ow.
- Look, man.
I'm just trying to cope, okay? I'm in pain here.
- Ow, ow.
- Shh.
We signed a prenup, okay? One that I asked for.
You can call her lawyer.
Ow! Ugh! Ah! What do you think? Do you think he's telling the truth? I don't know.
My back feels better though.
Weird.
- What you're doing is weird.
- Hmm.
Brad, I'm sorry.
I'm sorry about all that, man.
Look, we're actually here to help.
So if you could remember anything strange or unusual about the day that Shelley died, that could be the difference in finding her killer.
Uh, the day she passed she met someone for coffee at Truffles Cafe.
Are you fiddling with your earlobes? - What? Nah.
- Come on, son.
We both know what this is about.
When's the last time you spoke with Rachael? - 16 days.
- Oh, my gosh.
Your earlobes are fine, okay? It's your relationship that needs a lift.
I'm on tilt, Shawn.
I'm tilting.
What's up, Dogstar? This woman come in here recently? She may have been upset, maybe in an argument.
Yeah.
She was with someone who looked just like her.
Twin sister or cyborg made in her image.
- Both are possible.
- Sure.
Do you know what they were arguing about? Yeah.
One called the other one a thief.
You think we can take a look at your security tapes? We've got security tapes? - That is definitely Shelley.
- Wow, they do look alike.
That is one hot robot.
She does look familiar.
Wait a minute.
The nose of Brianna Hicks.
Let's get out of here.
Shelley's a thief, Gus-- a nose thief.
She stole the schnoz of Brianna Hicks and Brianna Hicks killed her for it.
Did you swipe the hat from Dogstar? Nah, I wear this hat all the time.
Oh, my gosh.
I can't believe you let Dr.
Joan get in your head like this.
Leave me alone, Shawn.
I'm a man apart.
My whole world is turned upside down like a snow glob.
Lassie.
Brianna? What are you doing here? And how are you one step ahead of us? Well, let's see.
Maybe because the private Detective on the case was two steps ahead of you.
What private detective? The one that Dr.
Diamond hired.
What took you so long, sonny boy? Am I upset? I've spent hundreds of thousands of dollars cultivating this look.
And Shelley was matching everything I did.
And then she copied my nose.
Seriously.
That's where I draw the line.
Huh.
I guess that's where she draws the line.
- I can dig it.
- Let me get this straight.
Joan actually hired you.
Yeah.
What, you think that's crazy? No, not if her goal was to make a crazy decision.
Tell us exactly where you were last Tuesday when Shelley was killed.
I was getting liposuction.
Okay.
Can you prove it? Sure.
- Whoa! - Oh! There's no way that she dragged Shelley's body into the woods.
Agreed.
You were wrong, pop.
- We were both wrong.
- You were wrong first.
Look, I know what's going on here.
Oh, yeah? What's that? You're upset with me because I said I don't need your advice anymore.
And you still have a thing for Joan, who I admit, still keeps it tight and nice.
Shawn, this has nothing to do with you.
It has nothing to do with her.
I was hired to do a job.
That's what I'm doing.
Strictly business.
In that case, I just don't want you to embarrass yourself.
What, embarrass myself? Kid, I was doing this while you were still pointing at the potty saying, "Ooh, look at what a big boy I am.
" - He still does that.
- That's just for me now.
Look, don't forget, pop, you're not 30 anymore.
Okay, in fact, you're not even 55.
- Actually, I am 55.
- No kidding? Well, then this is a sweet victory for you, man.
Why don't you quit while you're still ahead? Because I'm gonna solve this case.
How are you going to do that when you have a prostate the size of a pumpkin? - I'm Mr.
Booty Man - Yeah, blah, blah, blah.
I'm Mr.
Booty Man Shawn, you gotta change this ringer.
Hey.
Hi, Joan.
Yeah, I don't want to do this on the phone.
I'll be right over there.
Murder? Someone's trying to ruin me, Henry.
Joan, we are gonna figure this thing out.
I'm on the case now, but you're gonna have to focus, all right? Do you have any enemies or anybody who might be jealous of your success? We're gonna have to start a list.
Can I ask you a question? What happened that night? It was a pretty decent date, Henry.
I really thought there'd be a second one.
I scared you away, didn't I? No, I was coming out of a divorce, and I think focusing on being a better dad to my son - was all I had room for.
- Wow.
They don't make men like you anymore.
I'm still going to need this list.
There is one guy who's always had it out for me.
Here's his address.
If you want to check him out.
Doctor's handwriting.
Damn it.
All right, I'll take a look into it.
I'll call you with any updates.
I'll wait for you.
This is kind of sad for us, no? We have no leads of our own.
Who needs leads when we have my father's leads? Ooh.
He's turning into that lot.
Let's see what the old fart has up his sleeve.
Great.
We just tailed your dad to his afternoon nap.
That's kind of depressing, huh? For us or for him? Both, I guess.
- Relish? - Mustard.
Sweet, sweet meaty goodness.
Food truck.
- Mmm, mmm.
- Mmm.
Well played, pop.
I think the "Suck it" was meant for you.
No, it wasn't, Shawn.
We just got dusted by your Dad.
Now what do we have besides four jumbo kurobuta pork dogs? Yeah, hi, Joan.
Dude, I think I got us covered.
Gus, we can still have it all.
What? Excuse me.
Hi, Joan.
It's Henry.
You think you could give me that address again? Got it.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I have to keep my voice down.
I'm in an adult book store.
- Get off the phone.
- I got it.
- Get off the phone.
- It's not what you think.
- Come on, let's go.
- I mean it is what you think.
I haven't had the touch of a woman since the first Maroon 5 album came out.
What took you so long, daddy boy? Please, you don't even know why you're here.
I know that Shelley may have been seeing another plastic surgeon, a Dr.
Ted Lomax.
I know that this is one of his Nutox parties.
I know that Dr.
Joan thinks he might be a suspect, but you're right.
Other than that, I'm completely in the dark.
Well, how did you figure that out? I have my ways, kid.
By the way, between you and me, Joan may be under the impression that you're hard of hearing.
Wow.
Look at all these sad, insecure people.
Totally.
All right.
Just relax.
This isn't gonna hurt a bit.
It's just a little prick.
That's what they all say, Doctor.
Shh.
There you go.
- That wasn't so bad, was it? - I've had better.
Well, I'll try harder next time.
I would venture to guess that that gentleman is our Dr.
Ted Lomax.
- Dr.
Lomax.
- Lomax, Ted, doctor.
Welcome.
Always nice to see new faces.
My name is Henry Spencer.
By chance, did you ever treat a patient named Shelley Aaronson? Before you answer that question, answer this one.
Was Shelley Aaronson ever a patient of yours? And since we're on the subject, do my earlobes seem abnormal to you? No, but you should do something about that large forehead crease.
Crease? What crease? My black is cracking, Shawn? In answer to your first question, yes, I used to treat Shelley.
Her murder was a terrible tragedy.
You don't seem too busted up about it.
More like pleasantly amused.
Like everyone else around here.
Well, it's what we're going for, isn't it? Care to join in? I'm running a two-for-one special.
- Pass.
- Passa-dena.
- Lomax is our man.
- Really? Don't you think that's a little bit obvious? I mean, you gave me crap for pointing a finger at Dr.
Joan.
What are you basing this on? Instinct and a feeling right here.
You sure that isn't acid reflux? A good cop always relies on instinct, Shawn.
It comes from 30 years of detective work.
Yeah, well, real fake psychics rely on stuff that's a little more substantial, like whims and wiffle swings.
And it's precisely what I'm gonna use to prove you wrong.
Good luck with that.
Hello.
You work for Dr.
Lomax, yes? I'm Leecy, his esthetician.
Shawn Spencer, psychic.
I'm sensing that you're about to leave this job, go work for someone named Joan.
Wow.
That's amazing.
I start there tomorrow.
Congratulations.
How does Dr.
Ted feel about that? Or is it hard to tell on account of his perfectly sculpted flan face? He's not happy about it.
Hey, do you know other stuff, like, am I gonna meet someone? Please tell me he's 5'10" or above.
You will, but he's 5'6" and gay and married.
- 5'6"? - Yeah.
Hey, I'm also sensing that, uh, you used to treat a patient named Shelley? It's so sad what happened to her.
She was one of our best customers.
I see.
So you knew her well.
Of course.
I was over there bringing beauty products two days ago.
The day that she died.
Oh, my God.
You don't think that I had any-- Look, I would never want to hurt someone.
I'm just a nice farm girl from Bismarck.
In Slovenia.
No.
Bismarck, North Dakota.
My point is this.
Do you remember anything unusual about Shelley the day she died? She seemed happy.
She just got her hair done.
And she did have a new red sports car in the driveway, one that she bought for herself.
Any chance that was an Aston Martin? - Uh-- - Leecy.
You've been more help than you could possible know.
Dad, I got bad news.
Actually, it's good news for me.
Just spoke with a witness who saw a red Aston Martin in Shelley's driveway on the day she was killed.
Looks like you'll be making conjugal visits to Dr.
Joan at Lompoc.
Hearsay.
Lomax definitely killed her.
Although I'm gonna presume that he didn't mean to.
He's a hack.
He accidentally shot the stuff into Shelley's bloodstream, and then tried to cover it up by making it look like she was attacked while jogging.
Take a look at these two diplomas here, Shawn.
Tell me if you see something similar between the two of them.
Okay.
Oh, crap.
Same watermark.
So they're fakes.
Sorry, kid.
Those are the facts.
Hey, nice catch on those fake diplomas, Henry.
They're photocopies.
- This guy's not a real doctor.
- Photocopied what? Although he is an authorized dishwasher salesman.
Wait, he's not licensed to give botulism injections? Uh, what happens if someone was feeling vulnerable and-- Oh, no, Gus.
Tell me you didn't.
I just let an appliance salesman inject my face, Shawn.
All right, Waxworks, party's over.
Hit the road.
Somebody feed my cats.
They're locked in the back bathroom.
Marco Polo and Buttons.
- Buttons is allergic to wheat.
- You'll get him next time.
Don't look so worried.
I'm worried about those poor cats.
Dude, why? You look like Grace Jones in Boomerang.
Joan? What are you doing here? Aren't you gonna invite me in? Yeah, sure.
Come in.
- I came by to thank you! - Why are you shouting? Oh, you said on the phone you were hard of hearing.
On the phone? Wha-- No, I'm not hard of-- I'm--I'm okay.
Just a bad phone connection and my idiot son.
Shall we? Look, Joan, this is very sweet, but you don't have to thank me.
You hired me to do a job.
I did it.
Plain and simple.
Okay.
I guess this isn't purely a business thank you.
It isn't? So here's my offer.
You want a shot at that second date? Your time is now.
I like the way you talk.
We can take this as slow as you want.
- Oh, I'm sorry.
Are you okay? - With what? Well, you told me on the phone you hadn't been touched by a woman in five years.
Oh, please.
I'm-- I'm all about touching.
Respectfully.
May I use your powder room? Yeah, sure.
It's just up the stairs.
To the right, first door on the left.
Okay.
- Hold my place.
- Yeah.
Damn it.
"Nutox.
" What? Damn it.
That's me.
Man, I'm bald.
Perfect.
- What's that? - Why don't you tell me? That's not mine.
I found it in your purse, Joan.
You went through my bag? I--someone must have planted it.
I'm gonna have to report this.
That's the same stuff that killed Shelley Aaronson.
I can't just ignore it.
I-I thought you were on my side.
I'm on the side of the law, Joan.
They won't believe me.
Henry, stop.
Yeah, hi.
This is Henry Spencer.
Could you put me through to Detective Lassiter? Yeah, I'll hold.
Oh! Well, the bad news is because Dr.
Diamond took your phone, we don't have your picture of the vial of the stuff that's making Guster look like Little Wayne Newton.
But the good news is we do have the syringe, which she obviously didn't know was in your pocket.
Traces of the victim's blood in the needle, and we pulled one of Diamond's prints off the plunger.
Sorry, Henry.
It looks like she's our killer.
Come on, pop.
Don't be so hard on yourself.
So you took a good bass-whooping.
You got your hali-butt kicked.
But you found the murder weapon.
I mean, come on.
That's something.
No, Shawn.
It's the opposite of something.
I'm done.
You're right.
- About Dr.
Joan.
- About me.
You win, kid.
Hmm.
That wasn't nearly as fun as I thought it would be.
He was beer-battered.
The bit's over, Gus.
Wait.
He was s'mackereled.
Now it's over.
Dude, this print from Dr.
Joan is an index finger.
Shouldn't it be a thumb print? Totally.
What kind of doctor presses the plunger of a syringe with their index finger? Do you think someone lifted Joan's index fingerprint and planted it on the syringe? Maybe.
Maybe someone like a fake doctor who wouldn't know any better.
I bet my dad was right about Dr.
Ted all along.
Here's a question: Ted Lomax is still a suspect in the murder investigation.
What's he doing out of jail? Huh, Doc? I'm out on bail.
You're already free and my face still looks like this.
It'll return to normal in a few days.
Really? Wait, how do you know? Intuition and People magazine.
Besides, I barely put anything in you.
You sure this isn't psychosomatic? I've seen that response in many of my patients.
I'm sensing that you planted that syringe in Joan's purse.
I did no such thing.
- Said the professional liar.
- Huh.
- Why would Joan be calling you? - Don't know.
Answer it.
Put it on speaker and act natural.
Don't let her know that we're here.
That's too much pressure.
It didn't bother you when you were injecting my dome with poison.
Right.
I can do this.
I'm Ted Mtusak.
I mean, Lomax.
- Hello, Joan.
- Ted, listen.
I don't have much time.
You were treating Shelley after she sued me.
Do you have any idea of who would want to kill her? - You? - Damn it, you're no help.
There.
You're all class, Mtusak.
If Joan killed Shelley, why is she calling around, trying to figure out who killed Shelley? Between that and the weird fingerprint, it sounds like Joan got framed.
But if she didn't kill her, then why did she hit your dad? She must have panicked, I guess.
I mean, she had the murder weapon on her for some reason.
- We gotta find this woman.
- Wait.
Didn't you set up your dad's phone? If she has it, we can track it.
Dad! Go ahead.
Gloat.
Actually, shockingly, that's not why we're here.
We think Joan is innocent.
She whacked me with a fish.
Destroyed a beautifully mounted northern pike.
She's guilty.
All right, first of all, pop, you gotta treat that thing like your baby maker.
Huh? Be the ball.
Secondly, only one of Joan's fingerprints turned up on that syringe.
Get this: It was the index finger.
You saying it was planted? Hell, yeah, I think it was planted.
And she just called Dr.
Ted to ask him if he knew of anyone with motive to kill Shelley.
Good, good.
Just stay the course.
You don't need an old man to slow you down.
There's more.
Your phone, an old 8x10 glossy, and a note from Dr.
Joan to you left in your mailbox.
- Let me see it.
- Let me read it to you.
- It'll be more dramatic.
- No, no, no, give it to me! It was meant for me.
"Henry, believe me when I tell you I'm innocent.
"Hopefully, I'll be able to prove it to you soon.
"If I did any damage to your head with that fish, just know that I can fix it.
" Check the pic.
- It's nice, right? - Ooh.
I knew it.
I knew it.
I never should have doubted my gut.
That's it.
Let's go, boys.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
Your pants are rolled up.
You knew damn well we were gonna come here and give you the rah-rah speech, didn't you? I had a strong sense of it.
You see, I still had this seed of doubt.
I just couldn't crack the case.
But I knew that if you two put your heads together, you'd come up with something and you did.
Thank you very much.
You came up with a new piece of evidence.
You found my cell phone.
Am I really that predictable? All right.
We need a new suspect.
Back when I was on the force, we used to say you're never out of suspects.
Sometimes you just had to go back to square one.
Who was the first person that you looked into? Joan was our first suspect.
But then we looked into Shelley's husband, Brad.
But we moved off of him because he didn't have any motive.
He voluntarily signed a prenup before they got married.
Which means he wouldn't get any money from a divorce hearing.
But if somebody killed her - Life insurance.
- Uh-huh.
Someone with her stack would have to have a big policy.
And now that she's dead, - all that money goes to Brad.
- Ah.
This is good.
Brad Turner, SBPD.
You're gonna need to come with us.
Let's get those hands where we can see 'em.
Mr.
Turner? Uh-oh.
That is one unhappy ending.
Did you sleep here last night? No, actually, I crash here all the time.
Something about the smell of formaldehyde just lulls me to sleep.
I think it's the scent.
Looks like we have another overdose from injected botulism.
So you think we're looking for the same killer? Well, it makes sense.
And Joan killed Shelley because she's suing her.
Then the husband figures it out, he confronts her, she kills him too.
She's guilty as Mrs.
O'Leary's cow it's just a matter of time till we find her.
O'Hara.
Yeah, I think Joan is innocent.
So do I.
Well, she must have fish-slapped you harder than I thought.
What are you basing this on? - The spirits.
- My gut.
Great.
So I got ghosts and cellulite.
I don't even need an arrest warrant.
Got it, thanks.
They just spotted Joan's Aston Martin heading toward Diamond Surgical.
And we will be waiting for her.
- So will I.
- No, you won't.
Come on, O'Hara.
Thank you.
I'm just a nice farm girl from Bismarck.
Brad and Leecy were both from Bismarck, North Dakota.
SBPD, get your hands in the air.
- Did you hear me? - Yes, but I can't lift my arms - until my implants heal.
- You're not joking, are you? Everyone put your hands down.
Where's Dr.
Diamond? I'm not sure.
It's my first day.
She was just seen entering the building.
Do not lie to us.
Where is Dr.
Diamond? I'm right here.
You're under arrest for the murder of Shelley Aaronson and Brad Turner.
- Put your hands behind your back.
- Uh, Lassie? I'm not so bullish on your bull's-eye.
You need to uncross your crosshairs.
- Land the plane, Spencer.
- Shawn's right, Carlton.
Leecy here is our murderer.
- What? - Gus, show 'em.
Leecy's arrest record from Bismarck.
We ran it after Shawn had a vision.
Couple of fraud charges and an arrest for theft.
This doesn't mean she's a murderer.
She and Brad were high school sweethearts back in Bismarck where they made a habit of scamming rich people.
Two years later, they come to Santa Barbara and target one of the richest gals in town, Shelley Aaronson.
The plan was simple.
He would seduce her, tie the knot, and then he'd take Shelley for every dime she has in the divorce.
Then Brad and Leecy skip out of town with all the dough, but there was a wrinkle.
Brad fell in love with Shelley fell in love with Brad.
- Shelly.
- What? - I was gonna take that part.
- But you got the wrinkle part.
What's fun about saying, "But there was a wrinkle"? It's the turn.
Would you two just get on with it? Excuse me, Lassie.
You try doing a breakdown with your father.
Brad fell for Shelley and agreed to sign a prenup, thus destroying Leecy's changes of ever getting her money.
Plus, she lost her man in the process.
Exact-amundo.
So in a jealous rage she killed Shelley.
And pins it on poor Dr.
Joan to whom I owe a Texas-sized apology.
I was Leecy who planted the vials in Dr.
Joan's bag while she was up here filling out paperwork.
Final twist? Brad got suspicious.
So she kills him too.
Things got out of control.
- I loved Brad.
- Yeah.
- To death.
- Snap! Pop, that is some quality old-school smack talk.
Put your hands behind your back.
Excuse me, did you get your work done here? No.
That was cold-blooded.
Dude, I've got huge news.
Jules and I are back together again.
- Ooh.
- Officially.
She made me work for it, but I came all the way back.
She couldn't resist this forever.
I hear that.
I got good news too.
I think I got my face back.
Check it out.
What am I looking at? I'm seeing whimsical with a touch of constipation.
What? You know that's right.
- Come on, son.
- Come on, son.
You know, Shawn, even though I can't express it, I learned my lesson.
Cannot explain color to a blind man.
I am beautiful, Shawn.
I am a beautiful man, and I'm going to stick with what God gave me.
I lost track of that because I was freaking out over this whole situation with Rachael.
And yes, she's in London.
And yes, her ex-husband is there.
But you know what I realized? No matter how it all plays out, Burton Guster is gonna be just fine.
You know what? I'm proud of you.
Thank you.
Hey.
What are you guys doing here? What? I can't pop in on my two favorite delinquents? Your father is finally taking me on our second date.
- And somebody owes me a fish.
- Mm.
And this time no concussion.
What a crazy-ass week, huh? Two of us solve a murder together.
Gus does the African-American version of Face Off with himself.
What is this place, about 20x25? What's happening right now? What are you doing? I'm just mulling things over.
What are utilities here? Oh, my gosh.
You're thinking about coming out of retirement again, aren't you? I'm thinking about hanging a shingle of my own.
Yeah.
I think you're talking about getting shingles.
Contracting them.
Funny.
Look, what's the matter with me taking a case here or there? He's very good, you know.
Unless of course, you're afraid of the competition.
Are you hearing this? Thank you very much.
These must be from my publisher.
You don't have a publisher.
You sent pages to a printer, and it wasn't even a real printer.
It was Dr.
Ted.
Got to admit, his copy work was spot-on.
- Top flight.
- He wrote a book? - We wrote a book.
- Define "wrote.
" Psych's Guide To Crime Fighting For the Totally Unqualified.
I'm reading excerpts at Barnes & Noble next week.
It's not official.
I'm just gonna start reading in the middle of the store and hopefully draw a crowd.
Thank you.
Well real sweetheart, huh? Wow.
Somehow these are for you.
Let's see, let's see, let's see.
Who wrote me? Eh? Eh? - Shawn? - Yeah? - Rachael wants to talk.
- Okay.
This is it.
The breakup has begun.
Let him cry.
We'll go.
Shawn! Psst! Fishing.
These are delicious beacons of heartbreak, Shawn.
They're breakup cookies.
You just gave that beautiful speech about how you were gonna be okay no matter what.
Come on, you're beautiful, remember? You're beautiful and black.
Come on.
- Ow! Ow! - Don't even think about it.
Oh, gosh.
It's just--why? Oh, my gosh.
Mmm.
Mmm.