Private Eyes

Previously on Private Eyes ...

Any thought about returning to pro hockey, you killed it.

Did you ever track down that manager who cleaned you out?

- I got in! - You got in!

I'm never gonna be able to pay for all this.

I'm Angie Everett, the PI your dad hired.

- Who's your shadow? - Matt Shade.

Wow, Matt Shade,

- that's a PI name if I ever heard one. - It is, isn't it?

- So, same time tomorrow? - We're done.

Yeah, we're not done.

Seriously, what are you gonna do for a job?

"Partner"?

- Associate? - No.

- Colleague? - Definitely not.

Ten shirts, five skirts, two blazers,

some gym stuff... anything we're missing? Besides a Sherpa.

It's so stupid how they make you wear a uniform.

Hey, I wore a uniform for ten years in the League.

Uniforms are good. Means you're part of something.

C'mon, Dad, I wasn't even their first choice.

So you classed up the waiting list until they figured out how fabulous you are.

No big deal. Ellard's lucky to have you, honey.

- She's not gonna call. - Who?

The private detective woman, Angie. You need to call her.

Tell her you liked working with her and ask her for a job.

Ask her? She should ask me! I basically solved the case.

Yeah, you're basically not a PI.

Are we done here? Is there somewhere else we have to go?

There's one more place. Come on.

- It's nice. - Dad!

Over here.

See? Braille tattoos. They implant steel balls

under the skin so that they can be read by touch.

Aren't they so cool?

- So cool. - And you can get any message you want.

I want mine to say "Kick-ass Bitch".

How about "Do Not Touch"?

We can decide the message later. But what do you think?

Have you talked to your mother about this?

Yeah right. You wanna give her a nervous breakdown in the middle of her trip?

Besides, she's not in charge anymore, you are.

- Right. - Please, please, Dad.

I really want this.

- (cell phone ringing) - Let me think about it, okay?

This is Matt Shade.

Oh, hey Robyn, long time.

Whoa, whoa, slow down. What?

- Mazhari here. - Hello,

this is your wake-up call, Detective Mazhari.

- Anything to throw my way? - I've tried that before, Angie,

but you keep shooting me down.

- Slow your roll. I'm talking about cases. - Hey!

Disgruntled husband? Parolee gone rogue?

If I had something, you know I would. I'm sorry, Angie.

No problem.

- (girls laughing) - Thanks.

- Hey! - Dammit!

- Get in. - What? Why would I?

Get in! I'll explain on the way.

Slow down, Richard Gere. You can't afford me.

Angie.

Please. Get in.

- Robyn? - In here.

I need help.

Whoa, hey, what are you doing?

- I'm calling the cops. - We don't even know what the situation is.

I think I've got the headline. Dead guy. Guilt-stricken hottie.

I didn't do this. This is how I found him.

You should have no problem explaining that to the police.

You don't understand. Zack is my business partner.

I was here last night. We had a fight.

All things that don't scream "I'm innocent."

Robyn's an old friend. Just hear her out.

You've got 60 seconds to convince me not to call them.

I met Zack six months ago. He's a chef, he owns Pravda.

It's the hottest restaurant on Front Street.

He was struggling with debts,

and he needed help.

I fell in love with his brand and I decided to invest.

- His brand? - Bad boy chef.

- Total rock star. - He has a reputation...

Had... a reputation

for partying and drinking, drugs.

- He played by his own rules. - So what happened last night?

I came by to discuss our sales numbers.

We ate and had some wine,

and Zack told me that he wanted to dissolve our partnership.

I freaked out. I told him that I'd spent the last six months

and my savings working for this.

It didn't matter, he'd made up his mind.

So I left.

I came back this morning and I found him

like this.

I swear I didn't do this.

You have to believe me.

- So, what do you think? - I think that we might

get arrested because this is a murder scene.

- No, Robyn and I go way back. - That doesn't bode well for her judgment.

Come on. Isn't that why you got into this? To help people?

OK. How's this for help: She should hire a lawyer

and turn herself in.

Like the police are gonna believe a word that she says!

Her fingerprints are all over this place. I'm sure somebody heard them fighting.

Just until his lungs were punctured

- by the stabbing motion of her arm. - So where is the knife?

Why is there no blood on her? I can't explain these things. I don't care.

Fine. You don't wanna take it on, I'll get somebody else.

Excellent. See ya.

I thought you were made of stronger stuff.

- Daughter of a cop... - I see what you did there.

I'll let you get back to the really important

work of chasing down fat guys in neck braces.

OK. What's your connection to her?

Her husband Russ and I used to play hockey together back in the day.

Let me guess. He hit the big time and dumped his wife?

He died.

About a year ago.

Robyn's just getting her life back together.

Angie, if we don't help her, she's got nobody.

Get her out of here. I'll wait for the cops.

- You won't regret it. - I already do.

I'm sorry I got you into this, Shade.

Don't worry, we'll figure this out. Angie's the best.

When did you get into the PI business?

- Uh, it's still kinda new. - (siren)

- Oh, you gotta be kidding me. - Detective Nolan.

Alright, let's have it.

I was doing some work for him. I came to check in,

found him on the floor, called you guys. What kind of work?

Grab a subpoena, I'd be happy

- to tell you. - I'm serious, Ang.

See anybody leaving? Any sign of the murder weapon? Anything at all that could help us?

- I got you here, didn't I? - Hold on.

I don't know what you're up to, but if I find out you're holding out on me?

I'm not gonna be so accommodating this time around. You stay out of this.

Yeah, I'm gonna need a Forensics team out here right away.

- So how'd it go? - Just get us out of here.

Oh my god.

- I totally forgot. - What? You killed someone else?

My car!

I was drinking last night, and Zack took my keys.

Better and better.

Hey Tony, it's Shade.

No, there's nothing wrong with the Porsche.

Look, I need a favour. Fast.

Sir. We found these.

They don't match any of the victim's cars.

- (car chirping) - Hey!

Hey, wait! Stop! Stop!

Thanks, Tony. I owe you one.

No, really, the Porsche is fine.

Tow truck on speed dial, huh?

This car is a classic. Over thirty years old

and still purrs like a kitten. You oughta know something about that.

Can we go?

You'll be safe here until we figure out what's going on.

Shade, I can't do this to you. What about Jules and Don?

Don knows. And I told Jules your place is being painted.

Let's talk about Zack. What can you tell us?

- Did he have any enemies? - Where do I start?

Zack was rough on everybody.

Vendors, staff, customers.

Can we narrow that down?

One of Zack's employees shot a video last month

and posted it on the internet.

How many times do I have to say it? Sauce goes on the side!

Do you understand anything that I tell you?

OK.

- Who's that guy? - Miguel Quintana,

the sous-chef. But that's not who I'm thinking of.

Zack! You son of a bitch! Helen Jeong.

Oh, you think that's funny?

She owns Bechamel.

- What's Bechamel? - Seriously?

Do you ever go out?

It's a French bistro down the street from Zack's place.

- Best lobster bisque in the city. - I'm betting Helen

was pretty upset when Zack moved into the area

- and started stealing her customers. - Zack didn't help matters.

He dumped garbage on her patio, he smeared kitchen grease all over her doors.

That's disgusting.

Are you kidding? To a chef, that's like foreplay.

- Really? - Yeah.

I'll look into things

- and get back to you. - Wait, I thought...

What?

I thought we could work it together like we did last time.

- Together. You and me. - Yeah, why not?

- So, so many reasons, but I'll choose one: You're not a PI.

What do you know about the restaurant industry?

I know enough.

Really. What's the hierarchy of the kitchen?

Who runs front of house? What day is the fish market open?

Alright. 200 bucks.

You want me to pay you to let me tag along?