Dad, I'm not feeling well.
Come here. Let me take a look.
Wow, 150-degree temperature.
I'm probably too sick to go to Jimmy Peoples' house.
You better call and cancel.
Yeah, right after that, I'll call the coroner.
150-degree temperature, you're a dead man walking.
I am?
Yeah. I give you five, 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?
Well, Shawn, 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's 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.
Thank you, gentlemen, for helping out.
Don't mention it, Chief, 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 ten 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, uh, 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, Gus, we have a secret weapon.
A larger bear-eating bear?
Boom!
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.
Sweet.
Whoa, that sounded big.
That's a bear. Let's get out of here.
Ow! What the...
Ow! I'm not going to be the one that gets eaten.
Me either!
Did that sound like metal to you?
It did.
It's him. Dude.
Dude, we're heroes.
Hey, don't worry, Mr. Clayton, help is on the way!
No signal!
All right, sir, it's going to be okay. Just try to hold still.
Needed to make amends.
A good father. You understand?
Uh, you know, good father's kind of a tricky subject for me.
Uh, try to conserve your energy, Mr. Clayton.
Waterloo.
He's an Abba fan.
Find out who killed me.
No, no, no, no, Mr. Clayton! Open your eyes! Stay with us here!
Watch out, Shawn, 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, Shawn!
Well, it didn't work.
He's dead.
Well, that's a lose-lose.
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
Lower that 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
and 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 dude?
Man, we got to 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...
It wasn't a bear.
I wasn't going to say that, Shawn.
What were you going to say?
Mrs. Clayton, we know you want answers,
but you got to understand, these things do take time.
Please. 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 Santa Barbara Police Department
is putting all available resources on this.
Almost all of its resources. Hello.
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 voicemail, if I'm being honest,
a status update. Perhaps a Twitter.
I believe it's called a tweet.
There's 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 wearing.
I knew what cologne he was wearing.
Uh... I mean he did.
Well, let's hear this supposed message from my husband.
It's a little cloudy, uh...
Warren is very upset. He's saying, "Murder!"
He's saying, "Murder." Shawn.
Does the word "Waterloo" mean anything to you, Mrs. Clayton?
All right, Spencer, 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.
Technically, Mr. Spencer's not been hired...
This no longer concerns the police
as I will be financing Mr. Spencer's operations.
I'm sure the taxpayers' money is better spent on some
social program or a tree.
What resources will you be needing?
We... Uh, okay... One, case of Red Vines, individually wrapped.
Two, mini fridge filled with Cactus Cooler, need a ShamWow.
A new laptop. Tell her we need a new laptop.
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. Nice.
The door. The door.
Big door.
The door!
Oh, yes, 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.
I guess you had to be there. I was there.
It's okay, Gus. 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, uh, is complicated,
As I believe I've mentioned.
And I know you, you'll want to 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. Sorry.
Okay. 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.
Thank you.
Note to self. Be rich one day.
This is what real class looks like, Shawn.
Yeah. 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, uh, let's not be blinded by the bling, Gus.
Remember, we're here to fulfill Mr. Clayton's dying wish
and 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'm certain he knew exactly what he was saying.
I was there, Shawn. You didn't cradle anything.
Oh, 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 racquet?
This is my birthday present from him last year.
He even signed me up for tennis lessons with MaliVai.
MaliVai Washington? The one-time Wimbledon finalist?
No.
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?
No.
Garvin.
That's unusual. It's very Heathers. No?
What do they call you, Garv? Gar? 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 is made out of marshmallow.
Mrs. Clayton, if you don't mind my asking,
who is the girl in the family photos?
Oh, that's my daughter Nyna.
She's no longer with us.
Oh. I'm so sorry to hear that.
Quiet, everyone.
Mr. Spencer will now have a revelation regarding the cause of Warren's crash.
Oh, a revelation? Hmm. I'm going to...
No, no, 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.
Poser.
Asthma.
He's allergic to rich white people.
Yes.
As I was saying, I pay for results, Mr. Spencer.
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?
Oh, 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.
Unfortunately, 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 last year,
but you haven't been playing tennis.
But you have been playing with balls.
I see a very compromising image.
I don't know what you mean.
Ew!
Is that why you practice at night?
This isn't supposed to be about me.
No wonder you have so many sexy tennis outfits.
Okay, wait, I'm not going to sit here and be judged.
And even if I were having an affair,
it would be because Warren and I had a loveless marriage,
and not through any fault of my own.
Where I come from, we 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.
Rosa.
Funny you should chime in.
You know the Claytons' philandering ways better than anyone,
seeing as how you were in fact Seņor Clayton's mistress.
What? Oh, yes.
That's why you pray to Saint 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.
Oh, please. And I hated you both.
You blame everybody for your pathetic little life.
This family is crazy as hell.
Now we see why Warren Clayton 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.
I'm afraid 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.
Chief, and you know what, 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 fringe benefits than what we could give you.
Yes, well, 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.
Though it is 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 unfortunate accident due to pilot error.
Oh, the black box shows that he was coming into Santa Barbara
and descended too rapidly.
Trust requires evidence, Mr. Spencer.
I'm getting distinct visions of family secrets,
a large skeleton in a closet.
Warren Clayton was trying to make amends, Chief.
But he was being met with infidelities and backbiting.
Front biting. And jealousies.
Okay. 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.
Yes, ma'am.
And you better come up with something soon, Mr. Spencer,
or this will be the second time
that you're fired from the same case.
I hear you loud and clear. 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?
No. Okay.
This is how I should be living by now, Shawn.
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 right there beside him, like a true friend.
Stop it.
I see the two of you don't give up easily.
Mrs. Clayton,
you should know that this is now an official police investigation.
We've been granted full access,
and if your family's hiding anything else,
we will find it.
We don't hide anything except large amounts of money,
illegitimate children and, uh,
the fact that we're Jewish.
We may have a lot of secrets,
but killing Clay isn't one of them.
The door.
Oh, right, yes, the door. I forgot. That's a thing with you.
Good luck getting anyone here to talk to you.
She's right, Shawn.
How are we going to get people to talk to us?
Let me guess, you've got a loosely formed idea
that shouldn't work on paper,
but ultimately proves to be reasonably successful?
So, how long have the two of you been members?
This here is just a trial membership.
We only belong to the most exclusive clubs.
Well, 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 Warren Clayton.
Yeah. Yeah, it's heartbreaking.
Plain and simple.
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?
Wow. You guys bet like this often?
No, no, no, no, no. Sometimes we actually play for high stakes.
I'm actually getting a reading on both of you gentlemen right now.
Sorry, kid, 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.
Sure. 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.
Even got a private hangar down at the airport for them to use.
That means everyone in his family had access to that plane.
Mmm-hmm.
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, wait.
Don't you think you should check in with Abigail first?
Why would I check in? I'm not on parole.
You told her you'd call.
Look, you can't be your usual 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.
Okay, 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 just with her this morning,
what am I supposed to check in about?
That doesn't make any sense.
I'm not talking about what makes sense.
I'm talking about relationships.
How do you know about any of this stuff?
A player always knows, Shawn.
Please.
Man, hold on.
Fine.
Shawn.
Hey, Abs.
This is a surprise. What's the matter?
No. Nothing's wrong. I'm just calling to check in.
Coffee's ready.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hold on.
Was that... Was that my dad's voice?
I'm at your dad's.
I thought we agreed no pressure.
Well, 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.
Hey, Abigail, you want to see how far I can spit?
All right, that's it. I'm coming over.
I'm coming over there right now.
No, no, no, no. No need. We're just wrapping up.
But we're making plans for the three of us to have dinner sometime soon.
Great. That's...
That's great. I can't... I can't wait.
I got to go. Bye.
Man, why didn't you tell me to check in sooner?
Please, Shawn.
If someone asks us what we're doing here, what are we going to say?
This is an airport, Shawn.
We can't sneak around the way we usually do.
I don't want to end up in Guantanamo.
Gus, don't be a principal and interest.
I already have a brilliant cover 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.
Just go with it. Distract him while I take a sniff around.
Who made the rule that I always have to be the distraction?
Do you even know what you're looking for?
I'll know it when I see it. Ooh.
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 going to be fine.
Okay, I need you to sign this waiver here, here, here.
Here, here, here, here and here.
Shawn.
Also a copy of your driver's license, your 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, pal. 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?
Twenty minutes, half hour.
Thanks.
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 single car service in Bakersfield...
Two. ...I found the one that took Warren Clayton to the airport.
So your hunch was right,
he went someplace else while he was there.
Yeah. 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.
Wow, that's karma for you.
You guys believe in karma, don't you?
Yes, we do. But only because we're karma chameleons.
We come and go.
My psychic sensors led me here.
And I am getting traces of Warren's meta essence.
Here. There.
And somewhat shockingly, right there.
That's uncanny. If only you were as attuned to environmental issues.
Oh, sorry.
I always forget which one is mine, so I just open a new one.
Plus, I like the little clicky-clack sound it makes when you...
Oh, that one didn't do it. Hold on.
Yes. Warren did come visit me.
We talked business for a few hours and then he left.
Later, I saw on the news 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.
Whoa. He must be seven feet tall.
That's a Masai tribesman.
Charles is standing right next to him.
Shawn, you're wasting paper.
Shh. 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,
well, let's just say I didn't approve of.
When I refused things got pretty heated, but I'm used to Clay's temper.
So many memories of Clay.
That's what I called him.
I'm sorry to interrupt. I'm Charles.
And I'm Shawn Spencer and this is...
Charles, don't forget to schedule that lunch with Councilman Prather.
Sure thing.
Nice to meet you guys. Same here.
I think you should have stuck with the Masai guy. Shawn.
What? They would have had sweet caramel babies with 30-inch verticals.
I'm sorry. We have to go. Thank you for your time.
Whoa, whoa.
Happy? You can't recycle food, Shawn.
How many rules are there?
Pretty much just that one.
Hmm. Now I kind of want to eat it.
Let's go.
Dude, there's definitely something she's not telling us.
Did you see how quickly she changed the subject when her husband came around?
Yeah. Plus she slipped and 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 and Order sort of way.
Like Milena Govich?
Yeah, 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?
Dude.
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 got to 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?
Uh, 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 partricide? Killing a partridge.
It's a victimless crime. No, it's not, Shawn.
Who's the victim? The partridge.
Here's what's important, Mrs. Clayton.
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 made changes to his will.
What?
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.
Oh, thank God.
Very impressive.
I'm glad my initial instinct about you was correct, Mr. Spencer.
There's our suspect. Let's go, O'Hara.
Stop right there.
Hands behind your back. What the hell's going on?
I can't believe she actually 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.
Nyna?
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. And 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 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 had 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, returns, capital gains?
That's a thing, right? Yes.
Wow. No flies on you.
I'm afraid that's only the tip of the iceberg.
You see, I'm also seeing...
No, no. 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 a second, if that were the case and the SEC 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.
Ah. 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
and I could sell it for five million or so.
The bastard wouldn't even agree to that,
not even when I threatened to make an anonymous tip to the SEC.
Who else knows about this alleged Fonzie scheme?
No one that I know of.
I kept all the falsified documents, boxes full.
Just in case I needed proof.
I'm sensing you won't have to hold on to them for much longer.
Hi.
Hey, 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.
Yeah, 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 he'd 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.
You know, Shawn, I think you and your father would communicate better if you...
"Trap caught prawns." Sounds sad.
Right, no fixing.
No, no, no. I'd really love to hear
Abby's perspective on all this.
Okay.
Sweetheart.
Okay, Shawn, 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.
Hmm. Yeah, well, he's not really the sharing type.
It's worth a shot.
Really? You're going to pretend like you've had an emotion
since Walker Texas Ranger got canceled?
Shawn, 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
Pancaked.
You have 15 seconds to live.
What message do you want to get to me,
your only son, before you die?
Shawn, I'm not going to... Go.
I'm not going to answer that. See what I mean?
Well, it's a little harsh to talk about him being in a horrible crash.
You see? What did I tell you?
Excuse me.
Oh, perfect timing.
Text from Gus. Major break in our case.
I have to go.
Dear Abby, Dr. Phil, enjoy.
Dr. Phil is bald.
It doesn't even fit.
You're not bald, you're just taller than your hair.
Guster, you'd better not be wasting our time.
Yeah, the case against Nyna is really strong.
Lassiter, Juliet, prepare yourselves.
I'm about to bust open a brand-new angle on this case.
Including brand-new motifs. Motives.
Like fraud, embezzlingment, 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 have 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? What do you think you're...
Warren Clayton is communicating with me...
Take your hands off of my husband!
...from in here.
"Dust in the wind...
"All we are is dust in..."
Shawn, what are you doing?
You killed Warren Clayton.
That's crazy. Is it?
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 can do so much with that money.
Warren refused to reconsider.
He was going to 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 aircraftery.
I can see the altimeter in the wreckage of Warren's plane.
Altimeter? 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.
Until...
Garvin?
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?
Sweetie, you deserve the money.
We deserved it.
We could have done so much...
Officer, hold this man until detectives Lassiter and O'Hara arrive on the scene.
Here, take this. My work is done.
Please.
No, no, no, no, 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, throws to first.
Oh, hey, Shawn, come on in. Have a seat.
Just watching the game.
Yeah. 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.
Yeah? Yeah.
And, you know, you asked me that question at dinner the other night,
the one about if I only had 15 seconds left to live.
Well, I've got an answer for you.
I'd want to tell you that, uh...
Well, I'd do my best to express...
Look, what I want you to know...
That's it, Pop, you're dead.
I'm closing your eyelids and taking off your watch
and putting that thing on Craigslist.
Just wanted to say I love you.
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
I know, you know