Veronica Mars

Previously on Veronica Mars...

What are you doing here?

My husband didn't kill himself.

What makes you think that?

Because I know my husband.

Why bother with something not good...

just because it's something?

Especially when you know the difference,

which not many people do?

I mean, do you?

I think I do.

Are you gonna eat that?

This?

Yeah, that fry in particular.

That was the plan.

I'm just saying, if you weren't,

or if you were just gonna consume it out of obligation...

or to meet someone else's expectations,

I know someone who might be willing to take it off your hands.

Maybe add a little ketchup,

make it worth a girl's while.

You're welcome.

Well, I'm off to astronomy.

- Did you see the Lampoon yet? - Unh-unh.

Enjoy.

"Multiple eggings beat fear into Lampoon editors"

Don't tell me they actually wrote something funny in there.

Better.

The Hearst Lampoon offices got egged...

the night after Dean O'Dell reinstated the Greeks.

See,

that's where the egg was launched at the Pi Sig party by unknown persons.

Read the Lilith House girls.

I can't believe how dumb these people are, you know?

They're mad at the dean, so they egg his window,

like he's the one who has to clean it up.

The dean's window?

It doesn't mention the dean's window.

That night, they egged the dean's office, too.

I don't know why they didn't put that in there.

Maybe they couldn't find a way to make it funny.

He was a good guy, the dean, you know.

It's a damn shame.

I filled out the request form a week ago.

Ah, got it. Somebody filed it under D.

Mr. Mars requested the report on Cyrus O'Dell's suicide.

You know you're not sheriff anymore, right?

Just an interested citizen.

It's a public record, Sheriff. He filled out the form.

Always looking for a crime where there isn't one.

I think you need a new hobby, Keith.

Oh, I don't know. I find solving an investigation very relaxing.

You should give it a try sometime.

- Yeah, yeah. I'll get right on that. - Hmm.

Veronica, hey.

Sir Cheats-a-Lot. How's business?

Booming.

It's like no one here wants to do his own work.

I've actually brought in employees.

Question. Does your team provide study guides for ethics exams?

Every day.

Yeah, the irony has kind of faded over time.

So, my own question.

Is it true you're, like, a junior private investigator?

Because if it's true, that's really cool,

and B: I-I've got a case for you.

You're just like the rest of them, aren't you?

You just want to use me for my skills...

and pay me for my time and effort.

Do I have an option of using you for your skills and not paying?

The friends-and-family plan... unfortunately, you're neither.

Then I guess I'll pay.

Here's the deal.

The woman I love is getting married next week.

I have no idea where or to who.

I don't know her address, her phone number.

I don't even know her last name.

If you don't find her,

I'm taking a bath with my blow-dryer.

Veronica Mars

3X11 "Poughkeepsie, Tramps and Thieves"

Transcript: Inigo Synchro: Camilla

Vieni a trovarci!

So we're straight,

this girl you love:

you don't know where she lives,

who she's marrying, or,

if I understand correctly, her name.

- I know her first name. - A triumph.

And she's from Poughkeepsie. She mentioned that.

How do I put this delicately? Does she know who you are?

Yes.

We met at this convention thing.

We got to talking. We hit it off.

We ended up staying up all night in my hotel room talking about,

you know, life, the big picture.

We connected on some higher plane.

Last names, at that point, seemed trivial.

Uh-huh, so, what was the convention?

Is there actually a fake-term-paper and stolen-test-provider union?

It was ComicCon.

You didn't get all sweaty in your Wookiee suit, did you?

Yuk it up.

You know, it's not all Trekkies and Star Wars nerds.

I was there because Dave Gibbons has a new graphic novel

that he scripted as well as drew.

Sounds cooler now.

So, about the one that got away,

she was dressed as a Cylon, and you only knew her as Six, right?

Her name is Chelsea,

and she was in regular clothes.

And, yeah, after the Dave Gibbons thing,

I may have drifted into the Battlestar Galactica session.

And, yeah, that's where we met.

And, okay, we started out talking about how...

the Cylon raiders on BSG look like Batman's car when it turns into a plane.

But then...

then we started talking about...

our crappy relationships with our parents and...

and Chuck Klosterman and moral grayness.

And how when you see a plastic bag flying around,

you think there's so much beauty in the world you can't take it?

You get the picture.

I do.

Connection, higher plane.

Then you frakked.

No.

No, but sex was hardly the point. What we had was better.

I took her to the airport in the morning. We were running late.

She said she left me a note by my bed,

with all her information on it.

By the time I got back to the room,

housekeeping had been there, and the note was gone.

Are you sure she actually left it?

Positive.

So, how do you know she's-

A few days ago, she sent me a text message.

It said that she was giving up waiting for me to call,

that her and her ex were getting back together

and they're getting married.

So, why am I here?

Because I've got to stop her.

She's only marrying him because I didn't call her back.

Well, if she sent you a text, then you've got her number.

Call her and explain it all.

I've called a bunch of times.

Some guy answers, says he's never heard of Chelsea.

Can I see the text?

I showed it to my roommate, and he accidentally erased it.

I have the number the text came from, though.

Where?

Have a seat.

No, thanks. It's easier to be nosy if I can mill about.

You know Mac and Parker?

This is their room.

- Who? - This photo.

No, that was from the around-the-world party.

That's my roommate, Brian, and my friend, Fred.

I think that room was supposed to be Canada,

but it was kind of lame.

Here's the number.

Let's give it a shot.

Yeah?

Hi, I'm sorry to bug you again,

but my friend is trying to track down...

someone who sent him a text message from this phone.

I told him, I don't know a Chelsea.

Yeah, but 845, can you tell me where that area code is from?

- Goshen, New York. - Is that near Poughkeepsie?

About forty-three miles.

Is that where you are now?

Maybe someone borrowed your cell phone.

I didn't lend anyone my phone, and I'm not in Goshen.

I go to college out in California.

Really? Where?

It's this tiny west coast liberal arts college...

no one's ever heard of: Hearst.

Actually, I've heard of it.

Could you check your phone,

see if the text message is still in your outbox?

I just got it last month. I haven't quite learned all the features yet.

Mind if I come check for myself?

How are you gonna do that?

Just tell me where you are.

I'll handle the travel arrangements.

It's right here, under "messages."

Just scroll down to "sent,"

and bingo. Here it is.

"Max, I don't know why I haven't heard from you.

I guess I was wrong about our night together."

I didn't send that.

When was the last time you were back east?

Christmas.

Maybe you were out on the town,

a couple eggnogs to the wind,

some sweet, young thing asks to borrow your-

Hot stuff, coming through.

And he's carrying a tray of muffins.

I know you.

- Uh... - You're Max's roommate, aren't you?