♪ Don't go ♪
You're a really good kisser.
My dad was so wrong about you.
Wait, your dad thought I'd be a bad kisser?
Marcus.
Don't Marcus me, Abigail.
Kissing's supes important to me.
I've been practicing all day on my mom's
favorite throw pillow! - What is that?
You know, the smaller pillows on a couch.
More decorative than practical.
Oh, my God, no!
Yes, and now the pillow's all wet and my mom is pissed.
Do you even like me?
- No! - I knew it.
Which is why I've also been practicing
on your best friend. Sorry, Abigail,
but I think it's time for me to move on--
Dot org.
I knew you'd regret it.
No, I was screaming because
someone just chopped your head off.
Oh, so the whole time you were warning me.
That is so us.
Kiss me.
No!
Huh? You want some more?
No, you are!
Get out of here!
If this is about the screaming, some whack job
stuck his head in my window and kept calling me a failure.
But I took care of him.
Marvin Flute.
I should've known you'd be Friday drunk on a Tuesday.
Lieutenant Kang.
You're like my college alumni donation department.
You can somehow find me anywhere.
We got a case only you can solve,
and an opening on the cornhole team
for this weekend's Cornament.
Did you forget you took my badge, Lieutenant?
Now if you'll excuse me, I got to get back to the only things
I'm good at anymore-- drinking myself to death,
and painstakingly crafting
Mid-Century modern dollhouse furniture.
Oh, little tiny chair in your little perfect world.
Oh, what I'd give to spin around on you and go whee!
But I'm too big.
I would crush you.
And that would crush me.
Well, then, I guess you don't want this back.
Badgey!
I missed ya, girl.
Have you seen Cuffy?
What about Crime Tapey?
Not until you crack this week's
bizarre, unsolvable case.
Dare I go back to Grimsburg,
the town I left behind like a perfectly-timed elevator fart?
A place permanently cursed a century ago
by a virgin sacrifice gone sideways.
A city so full of vice, they named it twice,
then realized that sounded dumb,
so they went back to just the one word.
Grim--wait, hold on.
Mm.
Wow, big bite.
Ah.
Grimsburg.
You got a cough, Petunia?
Worse, I'm alive,
and I have a single hair in the back of my throat.
It's been bugging me for like three days.
It's literally the worst.
There he is!
Excited to meet ya, partner.
I'm not partnering up with a robot.
I'm technically a cyborg.
I lost exactly 74.2% of my body
in a freak merry-go-round smash-up,
but the good folks at Grimsburg Cybernetics
rebuilt me to be faster and stronger!
What's that?
They had to move some stuff around after the accident.
If we're going to be partners,
I only got one rule-- I don't play by the rules.
Even that one.
So I play by the rules, my rules.
And I've only got one rule--
I don't play by-- by the rules.
There's just never a right time
for a double teen homicide.
Looks like the boy didn't make it, but the girl...
Oh...
I'm not sure you're supposed to be touching the evidence--
Quiet!
I'm going into my crime mind.
Crime mind.
The girl, she ran for her life.
You go on.
Just a stitch.
I'll catch up, I'll catch up.
♪ Hey, mama, will you be my lover ♪
♪ 'Cause I need you in my life ♪
Whoa!
Jumping jacks are back!
You, with the great hair, where did he take the girl?
Bro, you're barking up the wrong--
My treenis!
Thank God, the girl's still alive.
But the killer is taunting us.
And he's got absolutely gorgeous penmanship.
Look at the loops on those L's!
- Look! - Backhoe tracks.
From the Kubota L-39 diesel used
to deliver this block of ice.
- We find that Kubota-- - We find the killer.
We find the killer--
We find the girl.
We find the girl--
No, that's it.
We, that--we-- that's it.
Mind if I ask you a couple of questions for the local news?
Sorry, ma'am, but this is a crime scene.
Oh, I can see that.
It seems someone stole this man's looks.
Nice try, but the only crime here
is that belt with those boots.
And the decapitation.
Ah, I forgot what it's like watching you
tear into a carcass.
Just one of the many perks of having a wife
who was raised by bears. - Ex-wife.
And I'm more than just a woman who was raised by bears.
You're right. That was insensitive.
Um, I was raised by bears,
so I think I'm tough enough to take it.
So, anything you can tell me about the case?
It's an active investigation. You know I can't.
Just like you can't ask one question about
the son you haven't seen in years.
I'm fairly sure he's fine.
Right, pal?
Oh, I'm great, now that you called me pal.
Pal.
Hey, hey. Don't fall for it, Stan.
He's just coming back to face-fudge this family again.
I wouldn't say no to a little face-fudging.
What do you want?
This.
You and I, mixing it up,
the lightly simmering tension of will we or won't we,
and if we do, which positions.
Come on, admit it. You need me too.
Ugh, please.
I have got everything covered.
Even taught Stan how to catch.
Ugh!
With his face. Good one, baby!
See? We don't need you at all.
Well, actually, this weekend is
the annual Father-Son Dance.
And I'll just put on a mustache
and take you like I do every year, hon.
No need, because the stache is back
and ready to prove he's here to stay, probably.
Fine.
But you better not make me regret this,
even though I know you're going to make me regret this.
Let's go get you an ill-fitting suit, Stan.
Don't worry boy son, we're going to
duct tape this broken family back together
faster than you can say hereditary schizophrenia.
Which you also don't need to worry about,
unless you're still seeing your imaginary
skeleton friend.
The one who made you pull the fire alarm.
Nope. Therapy's working great.
Bye.
He bought it, Stanny!
Now all we got to do is make sure
he never talks to your therapist.
Just like us.
Mr. Flesh, now we can finally start our plan
to get my parents back together!
And it's going to work, too,
because all of my plans work, aside from the dead bird one.
Now, let's get you ready for that dance!
Are you familiar with the end of "Dirty Dancing"?
Glad you're back, Flute.
This place has been dead without you.
I'm fun.
Hey, Wynona, are you wearing a new scent?
I love it!
It's formaldehyde.
Ooh, look who it is.
The man who puts the "ten" in Lieutenant.
You ever put that ten anywhere else?
Body's still off-gassing.
That note was a perfect B-flat.
There must be something inside him.
I keep forgetting to check both sides.
Wowie.
A flute!
The killer must be trying to make contact with you.
Good thing your name's not piano.
Yeah, 'cause then he'd have a piano in his butt.
That'd be messed up.
Summers, a boy is dead.
Kang was the one who suggested
we bring you back for this case.
I said we'd be better off deputizing
an alcoholic alley cat.
I was wrong.
The mayor needs his daughter found
before the opening of the new casino!
Which he also happens to own.
Shut your spit maker, Stewart.
- Sorry, Mom. - Mom?
Hi, I'm Stewart.
I just passed the detective exam,
but apparently I'm much more valuable
taking notes as her secretary.
Never knew you had a kid, Chief.
Anything else I don't know? - Let's see.
I'm a climate change-denying Flat-Earther
whose 23andMe confirmed I'm 12% Sasquatch.
Now that we're caught up on me,
if you don't find Abigail by Friday,
I'm taking that loaner badge back
and throwing you off the edge
of this appropriately-warm frisbee we call a planet!
30 years ago at this school,
I had the most brilliant teacher of my life.
Then 10 years ago, I sent him to prison for the rest of his.
Faced with a teacher shortage, the city ordered him
to finish serving out his sentence working here,
which is how the man who was once my greatest mentor
has now become one of my biggest nemesise,
nemeses, nemesisis, nemesi.
Ugh. Just remind me to ask him.
He'll know.
Dr. Rufis Pentos.
How's the ankle bracelet?
Itchy, I hope.
Oh, Marvin, how you've changed.
What misfortune has twisted you into this pot-bellied shadow
that cowers before me now?
The unrelenting cruelty of human existence.
And a brief addiction to Roblox.
So have you returned to play our little game
of cat and lesser animal than a cat?
I'm not here to play, Pentos,
so don't try to get in my head.
I wouldn't dream of it.
Interesting jacket you're wearing.
What? What do you mean?
The cut's not flattering or the color?
Get out of my head!
But there's so much room.
Um, Dr. Pentos.
- Hi! - My wife and I--
Oh, of course, my office hours--
feel you're forcing our introverted Franny--
- OK. - To read aloud--
Perhaps we can find-- is vocal discrimination.
OK, thank you.
Now, what deliciously dark crime
do you seek help with this time?
Murder?
Kidnapping?
The missing bagels from the faculty break room?
Twasn't I.
Recognize this?
Where ever did you find her?
No, no, no, don't put that in your--oh.
Interesting.
Its keys have been altered to only play B-flat.
Some ruffians stole it from my classroom two days ago,
but I simply have no idea how he got in.
Best of luck finding poor Miss Abigail,
whose only crime was growing up in her father's shadow.
Parents truly block out the sun, don't they, Marvin?
Don't they? Don't they?
Do not they!
So sorry, what can we do to make Franny
feel less triggered, hm?
And Mayor Dilquez, how are you coping
with your daughter's disappearance?
It is still hard for me to even believe she is missing.
The opening of Grimsburg's first casino!
This town will finally be known for something
other than our unusually high number of killer clowns.
But, it is sad.
Marvy Marvs!
I need to ask you some questions.
Um, I am in the middle of an interview.
And I'm in the middle of an investigation,
which trumps your interview. - Nu-uh.
Freedom of the press. - Yuh-huh.
Obstruction of justice.
Shouldn't you be getting ready for the dance?
Shouldn't you be not asking me
if I shouldn't be doing stuff?
Heh, heh, I'm not sure what's going on here, but--
- Summers! - Back off, R2!
Do you two mind not flirt fighting in front of my wife?
This has been really tough on her.
Hon, I'm going to talk to these detectives, OK?
Well, someone here may be involved
in Abigail's disappearance.
I assure you, all my guys have been karmically vetted.
Oh, bollocks.
Kubota backhoe. He's the Ice Block Killer.
Get him! - Chase Mode activated.
If you want to run along, I'll catch up.
Still wearing that jacket? Oh.
Get out of my he--oh!
Brake Mode, Brake Mode!
We scoured the suspect's place.
Bupkis.
Kid, speaking as your mentor slash work daddy,
detectives and criminals are locked in
a long, mysterious dance.
One big, cosmic dance.
Jonathan Taylor Thomas! I got to go.
Don't be a baby, Stan.
He'll be here.
Uh, didn't we already clear the suspect's place?
The word dance reminded me of music,
and I remembered that the flute was tuned to B-flat.
The suspect is British,
and British people call apartments flats.
B-flat. Flat B.
In other words, apartment B.
He's been leading us to--
Be best friends!
Detective Jesus, take the wheel.
Ooh, I'd watch that show.
OK, it's time to slow it down,
boys and boys.
How awful.
Yeah, a terrible way to go.
No, his furniture.
Who mixes Scandinavian minimalism with shabby chic?
Ugh.
"While you were chasing this idiot around,
I was completing my brilliant crime."
Hmm.
The top of the page is missing.
Gee, sure was nice of the killer to use recycled paper.
We should all be looking out for future generations
like that.
Future generations.
My child-spawn!
Oh, my baby!
What happened, even though I know,
since I've been warning you about it the whole time.
Oh, you're frozen!
Take these to warm you up.
Where'd you go?
A lovely boy.
A shame his father's duties leave no time for love.
Parents truly block out the sun, don't they, Marvin?
Uh, you already said that earlier.
I did?
Then perhaps it's important.
Oh, I knew this would happen.
So, what's next in the Bad Dad Olympics?
It was a mistake.
Let me prove I'm not the man who checked into a motel
under your credit card for five years.
You don't need to prove that to me.
Right.
I need to prove it to myself. - No.
Prove it to Lieutenant Kang?
The Chief? My dad?
No, your dad. The town?
Seems a bit much, but I'll do whatever
it takes to get my old life back.
You can't quit, Marvin.
Our one lead has freezer burn.
My ex won't have me.
And I just found out Pete Davidson broke up with--
Name TBD. Fill in in post.
I'd do anything to be a detective,
and you're just throwing it in the trash?
At least write down your feelings
on the Chief's notepad.
Make a pros and cons list, and then decide.
Chief's notepad?
Look! The paper matches perfectly.
The Chief is the killer!
Look at me, I solved the case, Flute, I solved the case!
See, Kang, you don't need me. My family doesn't need me.
Even crime doesn't need me.
I'll be at the bar if anyone needs me,
which nobody will, as I've just clearly stated.
Parents truly block out the sun, don't they, Marvin?
What are you saying?
What does that mean?
You should know what it means.
You've been guilty of it all along.
I'm trying to be poetic here.
Don't make me spell it out.
But I don't get what this has to do with my son.
Sun, son.
Wait, it's not the Chief.
It's the Chief!
You're under arrest for the murders
of two people whose names I really should have remembered.
Why would I do this?
I have no motive.
I got your motive right here.
Case closed.
That's not what motive means.
But it-- it does the matchy thing.
Chief's innocent. The notepad isn't hers.
She doesn't believe in climate change,
therefore she'd never buy recycled.
Duh! It's a scam.
They want us to pay more for something
that's already been used?
Pff, right.
So if it's not the Chief, then who?
The poor little boy in her shadow.
You wanted to be a detective, but your mom never let you.
So you planted a flute in that poor kid's butt,
knowing I'd put the pieces together and nail the Chief.
And then, when she's no longer blocking out the sun,
then you, her son, different spelling,
get to be a detective at last.
Uh, yeah, pretty much exactly.
So where is Abigail?
Hi!
My tanks...
to Flute, for saving my daughter.
I got something that belongs to you.
Badgey!
Wait, first, there's somebody I need to see.
Harm, you were right, we can't pick up where we left off.
But maybe we can start where we are right now.
I just want to give my son everything he needs.
And I guess that includes you.
I learned a vital lesson today, child person.
The only one I need to prove I've changed to is you.
Otherwise, you'll turn into a twisted sicko like Stewart
and frame me for a murder I didn't commit.
May I?
You may.
Grimsburg, I promised myself I'd never come back,
and yet somehow, it's this place where I feel like maybe,
just maybe, I'll solve the one mystery
I've never been able to crack--myself.
Oh, and the mystery of where I put my suede desert boots.
And if there's time, maybe how to use the self-checkout lane.
I've literally never done it without the person
having to come over, and at that point,
why can't they just check me out?
Wow, this is a pretty cool shot.
It seems like they're putting some real money behind this.
That's got to be a good sign.
So your pop's moving into the basement, hmm?
Together under one roof again.
This is what we've been dreaming of!
Speak for yourself.
I've been dreaming about meeting Phoebe Bridgers.
All we need now is a little nudge
to get them all the way back together.
Easy. You flood the basement.
When your dad starts to drown,
your mom is forced to save him and they're back in love.
Or you all drown there,
and become a big happy family in heaven.
Or, I give them love letters I wrote
and say they're from the other person.
Eh, that works too.
But if you do go with that one,
you probably want to shut off the main water valve,
like right now.