The Nice Guys

How do you like my car, Big Boy?

Bart, Sarah and Jonathan

are spending their leisure day at the city pool.

Aren't they lucky?

Let's see what they have brought with them to the pool today.

Bart has a plain towel.

Sarah has a bright towel.

Jonathan has a gay towel.

There's something wrong with kids today.

They know too much.

Take this little gem.

She's 13.

Already she's got herself a winner.

Sure, he's three times her age,

but he's got money for pot and he drives a nice car.

Who's the man, baby?

Who's the man?

- You are. You're the man. - Yeah. That's right.

That's right. I'm the man.

Oh, yes. You're my foxy-fox.

I'm not saying I wasn't a little bastard.

I mean, I grew up Irish.

The Bronx. Riverdale.

I don't have a job title, I'm not in the Yellow Pages,

but if you got trouble with someone,

someone's messing around with your underage daughter,

you might ask around for me, Jackson Healy.

Are you the man?

What?

Stay away from little girls.

Love. Grand, isn't it?

I was in love once.

Marriage is buying a house for someone you hate.

Remember that.

I'm here with a representative

of the Detroit Auto Manufacturers, Mr. Bergen Paulsen.

And, Mr. Paulsen, glad to have you here.

I understand that you're in town for the big show.

Tell us a little bit about it.

Take a look at this outstanding line-up we have here for you.

These cars are so incredible, they practically drive themselves.

I do have to ask you

about the allegations about collusion

in regards to a smog control device...

the recent lawsuit against the Big Three.

I'm not gonna dignify that...

You have reached March Investigations.

This machine records messages.

Wait for the tone and speak clearly.

This is your daughter speaking.

Thursday, as you may remember, is my birthday.

Please give accordingly.

Also, I hope you didn't forget that you're supposed to be working today.

I wish I wished for things, man.

My folks, they told me to reach for the stars,

and then my pals in the force said reach for the brass ring,

and then my wife died,

and I reached for whatever came in a gallon and cost a buck fifty.

She used to say I got no follow-through.

I hit nails in halfway and stop.

She's not wrong.

Hey, there's a line, asshole!

Hey, what are you doing?

They implemented a no-fault divorce here a couple of years back

that really screwed things up.

A lot of private cops folded.

Not me. I got this guy in a local retirement park.

He kicks a few cases my way.

It's my husband.

Fred's his name.

Fred.

He's gone missing.

Missing?

I'm terribly worried.

It's just Fred's never been gone this long before.

How long has he been missing?

Since the funeral.

Well, I can start right away.

Amelia?

Mr. Healy.

Um, I think there's two of them,

but I only have the name and description for the one.

You can take care of them?

Consider it done.

Thank you.

- I feel better already. - It's my job.

They've been following me around and asking my friends where I live.

I've just been really scared, but, um, you make me feel safe.

You're short.

I'm what?

You're seven dollars short.

Right, um...

Sorry. Um...

Sometimes I feel okay about things.

Not often.

Could try for an investigator's license.

Become a P.I.

Those guys help people.

Maybe then I'd feel good in the morning.

She's got dark hair,

about yea high.

Name's Amelia.

She might be from the neighborhood.

- No, can't help you, buddy. - No?

Sorry.

I work in a cesspool. Sex. More sex.

My wife, she used to say I make a living off rumpy-pumpy.

Whatever. She was English.

I don't know what the fuck it means either.

The point is I don't care if Colonel Mustard

did it in the study with a candlestick,

I just wanna know who he did it with and get the pictures.

Yeah, I think I remember her.

Amelia, right?

Was in here three or four nights ago.

Drank bourbon martinis.

Well, that's disgusting.

Any chance she, uh, paid with a credit card?

As in, am I gonna pull the receipts for you?

Fat fucking chance.

Is that a shirt?

Yeah.

It's very pretty.

I made it myself.

Yeah?

I made this.

Look, I'm not saying it's easy.

I'm not saying you don't gotta think on your feet,

bend a few rules maybe,

but it's worth it,

as long as you get the results.

Okay, that's it.

That's a lot of blood.

That is a lot... That's a lot of blood.

We're losing him. Go! Hurry up!

Now, don't go anywhere. Don't...

Stay with me. Stay with me! Sir.

Now, tell me, are you willing to find God?

Look, I'm trying to find Amelia.

Good morning, Los Angeles.

Today, yet another stage-two smog alert.

The A.Q.M.D. has cautioned residents not to stay outside

or engage in unnecessary exercise before 6:00 p. m.

In other news, a police spokesman says he has not ruled out foul play

in the death of adult film star Misty Mountains,

whose car went off-road in the early hours of last Tuesday.

And now, back to America's favorite family, The Waltons.

"Equanimity.

"The quality of being calm and even-tempered."

He accepted her betrayal with equanimity.

Jack, I'm fucking your dad.

What?

John Boy...

Six, seven, eight...

One...

Who is it?

Messenger service.

Holland March home?

What the fuck?

Mr. March, we're gonna play a game.

I think you have the wrong house.

It's called, "Shut up unless you're me."

I love that game.

You're a private investigator?

Look, there's 20 bucks in there, all right? Just take it.

No, I'm not here for that. I told you, I'm a messenger.

You can afford to live like this as a P.I.?

What's the message?

Oh, right, right.

Stop looking for Amelia, all right?

I'm not even looking for Amelia.

She's a person of interest, man.

Fine.

I'm done. Put a fork in me.

Don't really put a fork in me.

Amelia's gonna be very happy that you got the message so quickly.

It's gonna make her smile. That's good.

Now, ahem, I got one more thing I need to ask you before we're done here.

You wanna know who hired me.

Bingo. Yeah.

Now, we can do this the easy way or we can do it the hard way.

- Glenn. - What?

Lily Glenn. Two N's.

Old lady hired me to find her niece on Tuesday.

You just gave up your client.

I made a discretionary revelation.

No. No, you just gave her up.

I asked you one simple question.

You gave me all the information.

I thought that's what you wanted.

What?

Now, I'm very sorry that you didn't get the message.

Me, too. But I get it now.

I get it. I dig it.

Shit!

What about now? You get the message now?

- Yep. - Are you sure?

Yeah, I'm cool.

- All right. Give me your left arm. - Huh?

Your left arm. Give me your left arm. This one.