Rosewood

Previously on "Rosewood"..

Your husband died, didn't he? What happened to him?

Pizza, movie, bed... that was our Sunday routine.

The next morning, he kissed me goodbye

and collapsed.

Wait, I have to tell you something.

I don't think Eddie died of natural causes.

You think I missed my own husband's murder?

Rosie, I'm sorry.

You were right about everything.

Eddie isn't who I... I thought he was.

All evidence points to him

being involved in something criminal.

Sometimes you have to ignore what the evidence says

and trust your gut.

What you and Eddie had was special.

He deserves the benefit of the doubt.

- I'm really ready to do this. - ­I'm glad to hear you say that.

I just put in a request to have Eddie's body exhumed.

Sorry. I got stuck in a little traffic.

I'll give you as much time here as you need with him.

I don't think I can do this.

I don't want to see him.

Not this way.

Wait upstairs.

I'll call you when I'm done.

8:35 a.m. October 6, 2016.

Beginning the autopsy on the exhumed body

of Edward Horatio Lunez.

Okay, so, this is one of those situations

they don't teach you about in forensics school.

We'll do the same thing we always do.

We'll give it our all.

What? Talk. Did you find something?

It's what I didn't find.

His liver... It's missing.

Question is, is it missing accidentally or on purpose?

So, what do we do?

Call New York, hammer the doc for info?

No, not an option.

He's dead.

Suspected suicide about a week ago.

Coincidence?

We need to get on a plane.

Cap, this for real, or are you yanking my chain here?

I don't yank other men's chains, Ira.

You want on a case with me or not?

I do. I'm just wondering what are we doing in a fashion mall.

Well, I got a tip about a girl

who might have some pertinent info.

But, hey, man, if this all goes well while we're here,

maybe Daddy buys you some new duds that don't shout "cop."

So let me get this straight... We're looking for a prostitute?

Not just a prostitute, Ira... A ring of prostitutes.

- A ring? - A ring.

Catering to the uber-rich in our fair city.

Since when are a couple of hookers top priority

for the new captain of the department?

Can I help you two with something?

Yes, you can.

Um, I'm looking for a scent.

- You mind taking me in? - Oh.

Tell me what you think works with my natural pheromones.

- Really? - Mmm!

I'd say something manly, woodsy...

maybe with a hint of flannel?

- Mm. Well, you are good. - Yeah.

What about my buddy here?

What do you think? Something cupcake-y?

I don't know. Give him a smell.

Look, I'm okay not being smelled.

Look, we don't have a lot of time, so I'm not interested

in the little wink-and-smile game you're playing.

A birdie told me maybe you and your friends

know of a little ­money-for-the-honey arrangement?

I-I don't know what that is.

Cash-for-flash?

You pay me, I make Johnny Businessman very happy?

Would you rather hand out flannel samples

to everybody at the booking department?

Start talking.

- Is he serious? - I believe so.

Sweetie, what do you think we do for a living? We're cops.

I'm the captain. He used to be the captain.

Yeah, that makes total sense on him.

Yeah.

But you... I thought you were a model.

Wow.

I may or may not have posed

for a department calendar in the past.

Enough.

Look, a sweet girl like you doesn't need

a sex-worker charge on her record, okay?

So you steer us in the right direction,

maybe we forget your name.

I went once with a friend,

and all I did was talk to some guys.

The Herschel Club in Brickell.

Thanks for that.

Thank you for that cologne tip.

- Do flannel. Got it. - ­Mm. Mm-hmm. Yeah.

- Anytime. - Mm-hmm.

Wow. Nice work, Ira.

I mean, your style's a little rough-and-tumble, but I like it.

- I get it done. - Yeah, you do.

Looks like you and I have a date tonight at the Herschel Club.

All due respect, I want to be polite, okay,

mind our ranks and such,

but I think you got it covered from here, right?

All due respect, you're coming.

Yeah!

Oh, man.

You're gonna look so good in a snorkel mask.

I won't be able to resist.

I told you I am not going scuba diving, okay?

I'll look at fish on my plate... Next to some mango salsa.

But I want to make it through this honeymoon alive, okay?

Okay, Lissie.

Will you at least wear the mask for me in the bedroom?

- Come on. - Are you crazy?

Ah, the new Mr. and Mrs. Lunez.

Can I get either of you something?

Um, actually, um, you wouldn't happen to have

a snorkel mask back there, would you?

You okay?

Eddie? Eddie?

Help! Help!

Somebody help! He's choking!

Help! Please!

Please! Help!

Somebody, help! He's choking!

Dear? Are you okay?

Do you get jittery while you're flying?

Um, I'm fine. I'm... I'm...

I just... I'm fine.

So, you couldn't wait up, huh?

I guess you didn't realize

that guys with multiple open-heart surgeries

can't go through the x-rays.

That TSA agent got a little handsy.

Rosie, thank you for doing this.

I know your plate is...

Empty... for you.

We got this.

Did you figure out what those pictures were from Eddie's camera?

No, but I think we're gonna find out.

Hey, you okay?

I'm cake. I'm worried about you.

- Me? - Yeah, this is my old stomping ground.

I'm not sure if you're cut out

for the mean streets of New York City.

Oh, come on. I can be plenty mean.

Is that right?

Oh, that is... right.

What are you doing?

It's my mean face.

That face says "mug me."

You don't know.

But seriously, hang on to those pocket squares.

Someone's gonna mug you.

And keep up. We walk faster here in New York.

Hey, so, do you know

this Captain Murillo we're meeting with?

He wasn't here when I was,

but I wouldn't be looking for any hugs.

Yeah, I don't just hug everybody, okay?

You should know that.

Captain Murillo.

Yeah. Okay.

- Yeah. - All right.

So, uh, how can I help you two?

I'm Dr. Beaumont Rosewood.

I'm a pathologist in Miami, and this is Detective Villa.

She actually used to work...

Yeah, in the 118. I know your name.

We're a little concerned about the timing

of the suicide of your M.E... Dr. Jamal.

Hmm.

I don't have to tell you the stress on an M.E.

in New York City.

This ain't Miami.

But we believe his death is connected

to an investigation we're working.

And what investigation is that?

My former husband... Eddie Lunez.

Have sympathy for you, detective, and for your loss,

but as far as the death of your husband,

it wasn't a murder, and it wasn't an investigation here.

Well, we believe that...

Beliefs and 7 bucks will get you

a cup of coffee in this town.

Normally, I'd have an officer escort you back to the airport,

but, uh, you're one of us.

You're blue.

So I'm gonna suggest you two get a slice,

then jump back on a plane.

So, we cabbing back to the airport?

Hell no.

That's exactly what I was hoping you were gonna say.

You know, the guy had a bad attitude and a dead M.E.