Hey, that's not meant for you!
That's my salty nipple!
Suspect number one, Mrs. Twatt.
Pumpkin shooter.
Precisely. What do we know about her,
besides the fact that she's balls deep in menopause?
She's not psyched that you helped put her son in prison.
Correct. And when she flipped a flamingo on me,
I noticed she was wearing the same orange nail color that was on those books.
-Dink Choadler. -Seemed so nice.
There are some nice murderers.
But he said he owned all my books.
-Like the books found in the trunk. -Exactly.
He also yelled out, "That wasn't meant for you,"
when Dink saw the drunk drink my drink.
Say that five fimes tast.
Doggamnit!
I mean, gab blam it!
Also, it's like he meant for only you to drink it.
Plus, he made the drink.
Thank you, Gilbert.
Thank you, Jesus, for fun and friends.
And last but least, this dick, Paige Wellingtont.
She was sneezing like crazy,
which would explain why there were so many tissues in the front seat of that car.
Look at this mess.
A steaming hot pile of crow shit all over my suspect board here.
It's a mess. Ironically, I have my own same three suspects.
Really?
That's a grocery list.
"Two dozen eggs."
That's for Dink there,
because he makes me the rocky smoothie every morning with the two egg yolks.
Who's "Two big grapefruits"?
That would be Mrs. Twatt there because you have two big grapefruits on her chest.
And my nickname for Mrs. Wellingtont is Hemorrhoids.
She's a pain in my ass!
Should I bring all three of them in for questioning, sir?
Let me get my balls together first, Gilbert.
I was gonna say that, but you're talking over me in front of people.
I wish I could make a time machine and go back five seconds
so I can say what I was gonna say the first time.
It's funny that you're always about to tell someone to do something
after they've already said they're going to do it.
Honestly, I wasn't listening to you at all, but I do sense a tone in the room.
Well, I think that my aunt's probably just a bit on edge
after almost being killed twice.
Yeah. Why don't you go home and relax?
Fine, but just tell me what those three say when you interview them.
Wait a minute now. No one's privy to that except Gilbert and myself.
This is an ongoing investigation.
So stay out of it, Mapleworth.
Why would I try to poison Abigail?
We're friends.
Everything you ever written about her says different.
"Shitty writer solves murder." "Abigail Windbag writes a dumb novella."
"Mystery solved. Mrs. Mapleworth was the farter."
One more question.
Why are you such a boring waste of space?
And also, she's a piece of shit.
Woman!
Okay. Our job is to talk to the suspect till the suspect fucks up.
So here's the question.
When you made Mrs. Mapleworth's drink, did you add poison?
-Yes. -See?
-Wait. Did you say vermouth? -No. I said poison.
Oops. Then no.
I call all booze poison,
so when someone sits down, I can say, "Name your poison."
Because it sounds nifty.
Okay, we got a few questions for you, Mrs. Twatt.
That's no longer my name, thank God.
I remarried. Please call me Mrs. Minge.
Mrs. Virginia Twatt-Minge.
See, me and Gilbert here, we're the police.
You better be careful how you answer this.
Did you put poison in Mrs. Mapleworth's drink?
Answer the doggang question...
Answer the gall dang question...
Not today, Pilts, not today.
What the hell?
Get the fuck out of here!
Did you try to run over Mrs. Mapleworth with your car?
How could I? I was reviewing the Pitch 22 concert.
I sat right next to Mrs. Mapleworth's niece and her two weird friends.
It wasn't me. I was at my whiskey club,
where we drink whiskey and hit things with clubs.
How can I possibly have tried to run Mrs. Mapleworth over
if I don't know how to drive a ding-dang car?
Prove it!
They're all innocent!
Gilbert! You gotta give me a heads-up if it's gonna be a shit-in-the-pants day.
It has been a stressful day, Aunt Abigail.
We really need to regroup.
Can I just, like, help you?
You don't need to coddle me, Heidi.
I'm not a little baby kitten looking for her mama's teat.
Although I love those videos with...
Oh, I love it.
Well, it's time someone looked after you for a change.
So you relax.
Let's put on one of your house dresses.
Aunt Abigail?
Why do you have so many of these?
What, my neck massagers?
Don't tell me you don't get a stiff neck sometimes.
All modern women do.
That's my favorite. That's the purple princess.
It has 40 settings.
This one's pretty cool.
Like steam punk. You junk.
I've never seen that before in my life.
That could've killed both of us.
Looks like the dynamite set off my neck massagers.
The giant one is probably leading the pack.
Well, on the bright side,
there's gonna be a happy pussy tonight in this house.
I'm sorry?
Buttercrunch, I found your sparkle balls.
So how many neck massagers were in the dresser?
Don't worry about it, Gilbert. To the board.
Or...
What if there's more than one murderer?
-You know, I've been thinking... -Can it, Gilbert.
You're just coming up with theories to come up with theories.
I'm sorry, Gilbert.
I'm so discombobulated.
I'm very relaxed around murder, but this one is different.
With all these close calls, I've realized...
that I could lose my wonderful life,
with my wonderful friends and family, at any time.
I was gonna give you this gift card to the spa for Sweetest Day, but...
I think you could use it now.
You know, Aunt Abigail, maybe some relaxation can really help.
Maybe a little cucumber water
and a long overdue bikini wax will clear my head
and help me solve this stumper.
Thank you, Gilbert.
It's warm.
It's very warm.
Help!