முதல் 200 வரிகள்.
Previously on "Angie Tribeca"...
Mayhem Global? What do we know about them?
They got their hands in a little bit of everything...
construction, import/export, fracking, real estate,
party supplies, T-shirts,
culturally-insensitive Halloween costumes,
and all the healthcare in Louisiana.
So, Mayhem Global hires Duran to hack Meet'N'Cheat.
She draws us in.
Then she hacks us from the inside. But why?
As soon as we get Mayor Perry out of there
and elect Dick Dreyfuss,
we can start to make real change.
Who the hell are these people?
Mayhem Global. Mayhem Global.
Mayhem Global. Mayhem Global.
- Mayhem Global. - Mayhem Global.
I am Mayhem Global.
Geils! Tribeca! Get in here!
Where's Tribeca? She's late again.
That's three tardies this week.
One more, and she can't go to the aquarium.
I just don't know what's up with her.
We find 50 kilos of cocaine at this drug dealer's house.
Yeah.
And I say, "That's a lot of snow for Los Angeles."
- Nice. - Killer line.
I nailed the timing and everything.
She gives me nothing.
Geils, let me explain something to you.
In every cop's life, they go through a phase
where they feel like the system doesn't work.
The bad guys get away,
and it feels like there's nothing the police can do about it.
I think I saw a documentary about this on PDTV.
Alan Thicke narrated it.
She's got things going on in her body right now
that even she doesn't understand.
Here.
"The Changing Badge." Thanks, Lieutenant.
Sorry I'm late.
The, uh, thing wasn't working.
Anyway, a graphic designer's been murdered.
- So? Good riddance. - No, no.
We still have to investigate it,
no matter how personally despicable we find them.
So, let me guess... We go through the motions
of capturing the killer,
and once we have him, we let him off on a technicality?
"Even though you know your partner's changing,
she might not know she's changing."
Get down to the graphic designer's loft,
figure out who killed him.
Also, find out what the parking's like down there
and what they're gonna list it for.
So, I was thinking maybe after the crime,
we could get a drink together.
Oh, yeah, I have a lot of stuff going on right now,
so maybe some other crime?
What are we looking at, Scholls?
Victim's name is Sebastian Elsworth.
Graphic designer.
Worked mainly in the advertising space...
posters, labels, coupons...
though he won't need to back up his work anymore
because he just got sent to the cloud.
Upstairs neighbor's a trombone player.
- Blunt-force trauma to the head? - Yes.
We haven't been able to recover the murder weapon,
but I'll never stop loving you.
Checked his computer. Upstanding guy.
Doesn't share his Netflix password, pays for his porn,
has a good relationship with most of his clients,
including the Mayor Perry campaign.
Don't tell me this has to do with Mayhem Global and the election.
I have no idea.
You said he had a good relationship with most of his clients.
That means the majority.
There was a long, angry back-and-forth
between Elsworth and an Alistair Cook
who owns a local microbrewery.
"Dr. McBadbones Old Fashioned Crazy Style Triple Brewed Lager."
Seems Cook wasn't too happy with Elsworth's design,
so refused to pay him.
E-mails got pretty heated.
In one, he called him a "ducking armhole,"
which I'm quite sure was autocorrected
for something else.
Let's have forensics search the area for the murder weapon,
and I'll go talk to Alistair Cook...
I guess.
What's up with her?
Oh.
Hoffman went through that whole thing.
Do the worksheets in the back.
They really help.
Thanks.
Want to go interview this microbrewery guy?
I got a thing I got to do, but can you cover me?
Of course. No problem.
Oh, it looks like a beautiful sunset.
I see a sickly orphan sleeping next to a dead cow.
All right. See you around.
I hired the guy to make labels for my beer.
They were six weeks late, and they were terrible,
so, yeah, I was a little aggravated.
A little aggravated?
The title of your e-mail said, "I'm very aggravated."
Okay, very aggravated, but I'm a small business owner.
I can't afford setbacks like that.
I've spent 18 years of my life perfecting
Dr. McBadbones Old Fashioned Crazy Style Triple Brewed Lager,
and this guy sends me a label that looks like this.
The skeleton's drinking beer,
and it's all leaking out his ribcage
'cause he's got no organs.
Huh. That's awesome.
Oh.
Oh!
That's pretty amazing.
I guess I was pretty out of line
when I called him a "ducking armhole."
Mr. Cook, where were you last night?
- I was in "Oklahoma!" - Which part?
Understudy for Curly McLain, but I like to be there.
- I'm gonna need to see a playbill. - Oh, sure.
Let me just drop everything and go find it.
Oh, wait.
I don't have time for that
'cause I got to be here and do everything myself.
You know 9 out of 10 small businesses
fail in their first 100 years?
I'll get you your playbill, Detective.
You want to give me a hand with this?
Yeah, sure.
Thanks.
Seems like the beer guy's story checked out.
Cool.
I'm thinking of bringing in the neighbor this afternoon...
- the trombone player? - Yeah, it makes sense.
You all right?
Mm-hmm.
You sure you don't want to tell me anything?
Nope. Feeling great.
Got a great job that actually makes a difference in the world.
It's really clear who the good guys are and the bad guys are.
I'm the luckiest girl in the world.
Hey, thanks for doing this, man.
I know it's short notice, but Tribeca took off early.
No problem, bro.
Thanksgiving's not a big deal in my family, anyway.
All right, Sousa.
Where were you on the night that happened last night?
I was home.
- Alone? - Alone?
Uh, sorry.
- Alone? - Alone?
You... You go.
Alone?
No. I was with my trombone, Todd.
And what is your relationship with Sebastian Elsworth?
- Honestly? - If that's how you want to play it.
He drove me insane...
graphic designing all day, all night.
Click, click, click. Mouse, mouse, mouse.
Prrrrr-int! Prrrrr-int!
I could barely hear myself practice my trombone.
- So he made you pretty angry. - He sure did.
Angry enough to go downstairs and hit him
in the head with your blunt instrument?
Definitely that angry. See, this guy gets it.
Oh. Wait. You think I killed Elsworth with my trombone?
You guys have any idea how much a Nobbingsly trombone costs?
- Yeah. - Yeah.
How much?
Well, it would depend on what year the Toppings...
Nobbingsly... Trombone was made.
It was a 1961 plated-brass Nobbingsly Futura 605.
$53,684.45.
All right, so you know your Nobbingsly.
So you also know that it would be ridiculous for me
to risk damaging it by hitting Elsworth in the head,
even though that graphic designer deserved it.
Are we done here?
I have a huge performance tomorrow
where a man's joke is gonna fall flat.
I don't think the neighbor had anything to do with it.
And the beer guy's story checks out.
So we've got a murder without a murderer.
Well, no one can say we didn't try.
See you Monday.
Looks like Scholls has a rifle.
Hail Mary, full of grace. The Lord is with thee...
One of my techs found this in the Dumpster
next to Elsworth's apartment.
There's traces of blood and hair that match the victim.
But here's the interesting part.
I went to check it into evidence,
was told someone checked it out of evidence yesterday.
Who checked it out?
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