I'm so glad we could finally do this.
I know. Kylie says you're always stuck at the precinct.
Yeah. Oh.
Speaking of. This is work. Sorry.
What's up, peralta?
Peralta: Captain called. He needs everybody back.
There's a lead on the nightingale strangler.
We 're looking for a white male, 5'10", medium build, brown hair.
Small scar on his right cheek.
Okay.
His mo is, he finds lonely women with no friends, poisons their food,
and then guts them in his Van.
It's pretty gnarly.
Last seen wearing a salmon shirt, gray blazer.
And witnesses have said he has trouble fitting lettuce in his mouth.
Okay. Where are you?
Apparently, he has the world's smallest penis and doesn't know how to use it.
Hi, there. I'm Jake peralta, Amy's boss.
That's not true. What are you doing here?
I am here on a date,
who is now leaving.
Worth it. Have a great night.
Oh. Your boss seems really nice.
He's not my boss. Yes, I am.
And with a record five felonies solved in one week,
peralta pulls ahead.
Did you guys hear that I solved five felonies in one week?
We heard. Really? How?
Five felonies in one week. Light them up, boyle!
That's the sweet taste of triumph.
You should shower more. Yep.
Updates on open cases?
I just got a doa on bessemer street.
You're the primary. You're in charge. Take Diaz and peralta.
Yes. My fantasy threesome.
Of cops on a case.
Detectives, our monthly crime statistics are due.
I want all paperwork on your closed cases by tomorrow.
Scully, you can just write "I didn't close any" on a piece of paper.
You got it.
I already got my paperwork in, captain.
Then, I guess this little reminder isn't for you.
Wow. Looks like he hates you even more than me.
No, he doesn't. We have a good relationship.
We're on the same page.
Something to share with the rest of us, Santiago?
No, sir. Iwasn't... peralta was the one that was talking.
God, you must have been the worst fourth grader ever.
Joke's on you. I skipped fourth grade.
Santiago. Anything else?
No?
Mmm-mmm.
Dismissed.
Hey, boyle. I know you haven't had peralta as a secondary in a while.
Be careful. It could be rough.
Hey, saboteur.
That's not true. I happen to be a very good secondary.
So, you were just borrowing those cars?
Peralta: Ask about his bank account.
Ask about his bank account!
Ask him about his bank...
Account.
You should ask him about his bank account.
Captain, Santiago broke the glass. What?
You can't give up control. You're terrible at taking your primary's orders.
You just do whatever you want.
I could go on and on and on.
Is something no lover of yours has ever said. Blammo!
Look, I can be an amazing secondary, and I'll prove it.
I know you will, Jake-in-the-box.
Okay. Don't ever call me that again. I'm driving. We should leave now.
Carry my bag.
But you should pick the music, primary.
Consider yourself part of the furniture
there isn't a lot to spare
who cares, whatever we got, we share
it's a great picture, sir.
I hate it.
Me, too.
So, I have an eyewitness in the purse-snatcher case.
Only problem is the sketch artist is out sick.
How do you want me to proceed?
Figure it out, Santiago. It's your case.
Yes. I will do that.
Thank you.
Are you bowing?
No. This is how I walk.
What do you need, quasimodo?
I got to go meet boyle and peralta.
Is there something wrong with the captain?
It seems like he's in a bad mood.
I don't know. Who can tell?
You all right, captain? Tough weekend?
I went to Barbados with my husband.
We wove hats out of palm fronds and swam with the stingrays.
I've never been happier.
Guy's impossible to read.
Don't even try.
That is, without question, the funniest story I've ever heard.
Wow. This guy must have weighed 500 pounds.
I think we have an idea what killed him.
Spoiler alert, it was not starvation.
What do we got? What do we got?
Sorry. Sorry. You're the primary. You're in charge.
Frank Patterson. 58 years old, married, no children.
Wife found him this morning and called it in.
Okay. Any signs of forced entry or a struggle?
Are you sure about that?
Looks like maybe his belt had a pretty epic struggle with his stomach.
What are you tmnkmg, bowe? For a guy...
I'm calling natural causes. We got heart medicine over here,
home defibrillator, and a frequent customer gift basket
from the cardiac wing of Brooklyn methodist.
This case is open and shut.
Just like his mouth was constantly.
That was my last fat joke. Okay?
Diaz, check and see if there's any more meds in the bathroom.
Boer, see what you can find in the bedroom. I'll take the kitchen.
Yep. That's exactly what I was going to say.
It's so weird. He's so good at knowing what I'm going to tell him to do.
He just does it. It's weird.
Hey, sergeant. You know how you're really good at, um, doodhng?
I know you think you're complimenting me,
but calling them doodles is an insult.
You a big fan of Picasso's doodles?
Sorry. Can you please draw a perp for me?
The sketch artist is out sick and the captain wants this done right away.
He's in a bad mood. Is he?
I can never read him.
You look chipper, captain. You have a fun weekend?
There was a small fire in my home.
I lost many photo albums of treasured memories.
I'm devastated.
I'm telling you. He and I have a connection,
and there is something bothering him.
Can you help me out?
Great.
Ma'am, can you please describe the perp to sergeant jeffords?
Uh, yeah. He had, um, dark, curly hair and a neck tattoo.
Wait, wait, wait. Slow down. Uh, let's start with the eyes.
Were they desperate? Lonely?
Did they betray heartache?
They were brown.
Do you even want your purse back?
So far, you've managed to tell three fatjokes and completely bulldoze Charles.
Is that your idea of being a good secondary?
First off, I've told four. And second, I'm helping.
I mean, I started cataloging the contents of the fridge,
but it turns out there's not enough paper on earth.
Five fat jokes.
Thanks, Arnie. See? Arnie thinks I'm doing great.
Arnie, shut up.
Jake, for once, just hang back and let boyle do his job.
Fine.
Unless I get a direct order from boyle,
I will stand here motionless like a wise old oak tree.
You look like an idiot.
I'm so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Patterson.
Can you talk about what happened after breakfast?
I took the dog for a walk. When I came back, he was dead.
I'm just in shock. We were going on a cruise together next week.
He had pre-purchased the unlimited soda package.
I'm sure the soft drink industry mourns his passing.
Motion reactivated.
Hey. I'm detective Jake peralta.
Dr. Rossi. I'm the new medical examiner.
Don't let me get in your way. I'm sure you have a lot to do.
Actually, I've been given a direct order to do nothing. So...
What brings you here?
Okay. I'm all right. Sorry. Sorry.
You all right? What's up?
How's the Patterson case looking?
Uh, it looks like natural causes,
but I'll know for sure once I get the autopsy results tomorrow.
Jake volunteered to follow up with the me.
My man is all over it.
I'm really glad you could sneak away from your case.
Well, it's technically not really my case.
But on the plus side, I have all the time in the world.
To you. And to the ginormous dead fat man who brought us together.
Boyle: Hey, Jake. Have you heard anything from the me?
She hasn't sent the autopsy report.
Oh, that's strange.
Maybe probably a bunch more people died and she got super busy.
That's definitely what happened.
Okay. Just let me know when she calls.
You got it.
Hey. Can I ask you guys something? Can you keep a secret?
Do you know anything about my life?
No, I do not. Good point.
Okay. So, you know the new medical examiner?
I kind of had sex with her last night.
What?
Oh. Sorry. I forgot who I was talking to.
Sex is something that two adults do with their bodies
when they're attracted to each other.
He's right, Santiago. Do you not know that?
I meant, what were you thinking?
She was supposed to be doing an autopsy for your primary, Charles.
The guy died of natural causes. What's the big deal?
Anyways, back to last night. As you would imagine,
I'm normally up for pretty much anything in the bedroom.
But I can't tell ifwhat happened was weird or sexy.
Wait. Close your eyes.
Oh, okay.
Ah!
What are you doing?
I like them cold.
Okay.
Not that weird. Cold?
Like a dead guy? You're reading into that.
You have a really nice chest.
Thank you.
I'd love to crack it open and get my hands all over your organs.
Okay. I wonder how much your appendix weighs.
Oh. It's inflamed.
All right. Wait. That's bad, right?
Oh, no. Yeah, it is.
Ew. Please tell me you ran out of there.
No. For some reason, I kind of started getting into it.
Oh. What do we have here?
A 34-year-old Caucasian male who is dead. Very dead.
Mmm. Cause of death?
Initial assessment, blunt force trauma.
But what do I find when I probe a little farther?
Bruising around the neck and ocean water in the lungs.
Ooh. How long have you been dead, body?
Four days. Gross. Bloating. Odors.
Oh. Uh, 24 hours.
Perfect.
Here we go.
Stop, stop, stop. Weird, weird, weird.
Rosa, what's your call? Weird or sexy?
Weird. I knew it!
But also kind of sexy? No. Weird.
But more importantly, that's what you were doing
while Charles was grinding through paperwork?
Told you. Worst secondary in the unit.
Oh, what do you guys want from me?
You know, I take over a crime scene, I'm a bad secondary.
I blow off work to have sex with a hot coroner, I'm a bad secondary.
I can't win. What are you guys talking about?
Um, just weird sex stuff that has nothing to do with work.
I once had sex on a futon. And it was in couch mode.
Hmm.
Sarge, all of these are fine. How much longer are you going to work on this?
It's questions like that that made Van gogh cut off his ear.
You can't put a clock on art.
Ten minutes.
Great. Let's catch this guy so we can give holt some good news.
I want to cheer him up.
Well, how do you even know he's in a bad mood?
I mean, it's impossible to read that guy.
This the most incompetent, worthless report I have ever read in my life!
Get your act together, or so help me god,
you won't live to see retirement!
It's like, "what's that guy thinking?" You know?
I can read him. And if anyone can figure out what's bothering him, it's me.
He and I are exactly the same.
Except that I'm younger, Cuban, female, single, and straight.
Captain holt's not gay.
Captain holt's gay?
Seriously, man. Just retire.
Boyle, where's my paperwork on that doa?
Still waiting on the autopsy report.
It was supposed to come in first thing this morning,
but so far, nothing.
This is unacceptable.
I'll call the me and find out what happened.
Buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, buh.
That's not necessary, sir.
For the record, I think it's natural causes, anyway.
But I'm also the secondary on this case. It's my responsibility.
So, I will head on down there and pick up the report.
Good. But don't ever "buh, buh, buh, buh" me again.
Right. I don't know what...
Buh, buh, buh, buh, buh, buh.
Just go.
Yep. I am going to regret teaching him that one.
Rosa, can I show you something?
What's up?
Patterson's wife told me that they were going on a cruise together next month,
but her credit card bill shows only one ticket booked.
Either she's lying, or she knew he was going to die.
Huh. Nice find, boyle.
This could be a murder.
Where is that autopsy? Jake went down to the me an hour and a half ago,
he still hasn't got back to me.
Jake went to get the autopsy report?
I know. Isn't he the best?
I mean, he's really coming into his own as a secondary.
I want to get him something nice.
Does he come across more as a Pinot guy, or more of a syrah?
You know what? We better go down there. See what's holding him up.
Good call.
Detectives. Hello.
Your shirt's buttoned wrong.
Ha. So it is. Well.
How can I help you?
Uh, we came by to get that autopsy report.
Hmm. Is detective peralta here?
I haven't seen him.
Thanks for coming by.
Hold on.
Found him.
Ah. Thank goodness you're here. I am so lost.
Do you know where the vending machines are?
Look, it's not what it seems like.
Yes, it is. Yes, it is.
Here's what happened. I came down here to get the autopsy report.
And in conclusion, here we are.
Now, ifyou'll excuse me.
Cut the crap, peralta.
Look, I'm sorry I slowed down the autopsy results.
But everyone knows it's natural causes.
Not anymore. We think it could be a murder.
Wait. Like, a "murder" murder?
Or, like, his mouth murdered him by making him eat so much food that his heart exploded?
"Murder" murder. We need the autopsy to be sure.
I have not gotten to that yet.
You guys have been down here for two hours.
What, did you have sex 40 times?
40 times? No. Charles. Look, I'm sorry.
We didn't know it was a homicide.
Well, it shouldn't matter. I'm your primary and I asked you to do something.
So, if it's okay, I'd like to be upset with you.
It's more than okay. It's okay times two.
Now, Dr. Rossi, will you please perform the autopsy for us right now?
Actually, with a body this size, I'd need my assistant.
And I gave him the rest of the afternoon off when Jake showed up.
Guilty.
Okay, fine. I will act as your assistant
because I am a wonderful secondary.
How gross could it be?
I'm just going to need you to hold open this chest cavity for me.
Oh. Wow. Okay. I can do that.
It's no big deal. Just like holding open some slimy elevator doors.
For a family of aliens. Oh, my god.
Yep. There are some signs of stress on the heart, but that's not surprising.
Ah, will you look at that stomach lining?
God, that is just a beaut.
Ugh.
All right. I'm going to need you to go ahead and take your hand.
Yep. Get it down there.
Get it on in. There you go.
Oh, that is so big.
Caught him? Yes, sir.
He was easy to pick up. He looked just like the sergeant's sketch.
You could be a professional artist, boss. Like on the boardwalk.
You think I should draw caricatures? That's garbage art.
I don't draw giant-head people on surfboards.
I'm saying you could. You're that good.
Captain, the credit really goes to sergeant jeffords.
Without his refined artistic skills...
Finish the paperwork by noon. I want it included in the crime stats.
I got to say, I always hate how I look in pictures.
But that is so flattering. Also, I'm innocent. You got the wrong guy.
Shut up. Sarge,
I need you to do one more drawing for me.
What?
It will cheer the captain up. He'll be over the moon.
He may even lean back in his chair a little and nod slightly.
This is a lot of pressure. If I'm going to do this, it has to be done right.
Scully. Scully: Yeah?
Get me my oils.
Paint or massage?
I'll get both.
You know, this is one of the most unhealthy people I've ever seen.
It's like cutting into a big, overstuffed ravioli.
You sure you want me to keep digging?
Unfortunately, yes. The primary on this case says it's a murder.
We have to treat it like a murder.
Okay. Here we go.
Oh. Want to see something cool?
Here it is. No.
Ah, that's what I'm talking about. Listen.
Goosh. Mmm-hmm.
You know what that was?
That was the air releasing from the large intestine.
Ah. In the biz, we call that the "death bubble."
Pretty cool. Here, you want to hold it? Nope.
Knock, knock. You can knock with your hands.
Saying it is ridiculous.
Okay. Well, I know you're having a bad day.
I think you're having a bad day.
So, to cheer you up, I had Terry do this painting
to replace the photo you hated.
I threw away the photo because I think it's ostentatious to hang pictures of yourself,
especially when you haven't earned a place on the wall.
But you would have me hang a baroque oil painting of myself,
like I'm a North Korean dictator.
What, no ornate gold frame?
Why am I not astride my noble steed, clad in armor?
We could add a horse.
You just wasted your time, Terry's time, and now my time on this,
when you should have been filing the report on the purse-snatcher.
Oh, I did. It's already in the system.
Oh. Good.
Thank you. Dismissed.
Here are the contents of his stomach.
Oh. That's where they went.
And here's the really cool part.
Get in here. Look at the scarring on this liver.
Cause of death, poison. Ingested.
Boyle was right.
All right. I'm going to go tell him.
Yeah, you could.
Or you could stay for a post-mortem.
Nope. Sorry. The spell has worn off.
No more weird dead guy sex for me ever again.
It's nothing personal. I just think sex is for the living.
Isn't that right, buddy? Oh, my god. He has no eyes.
Oh, that is terrifying.
What now, Santiago?
I figured out why you've been so tense.
You're worried about the monthly crime statistics.
That's not your concern.
I just checked the stats myself.
Our arrest numbers haven't improved since you got here.
They're exactly the same as last month.
If this is your strategy to cheer me up, it's backfiring.
Sir, I don't think you realize how good flat numbers are.
I went back 12 years.
A precinct's numbers almost always get worse under new leadership.
But ours didn't. That's a win.
It's just your first month.
Morale is much higher. People are working harder.
You're well on your way to earning a place on that wall.
Thank you, Santiago.
You know. We're birds of a feather, you and I.
I hate cliches. Cliches are the worst.
Okay.
We know you killed your husband.
That cruise you planned was for one.
Plus, the autopsy showed clear signs of poison.
And for the record, the inside of his body was very gross.
Noted. My only question is, why did you do it?
Hmm. He drove me to it. He had affair after affair.
He was a real Don Juan.
Permission to make a fatjoke? Go ahead.
Are you sure you didn't mean Don flan? Thanks.
Nice. Mrs. Patterson, you are under arrest for the murder of your husband.
Sarge, that painting is tight.
It's terrible. The brushwork is sloppy. It's poor use of negative space.
I'm a fraud. Not at all.
I'd like to take this home for my husband.
He'll be glad you made me look so happy.
I was trying to make him look serious.
I still can't read him. No one can.
I can. He likes it.
Nicejob, boyle. You nailed it.
Hear, hear. Of course he did. He's a great primary.
And I'm sorry I was such a bad number two.
I may, for the first time have been a bit of a jerk. And I'm sorry.
What a wonderful moment.
I agree. It is a wonderful moment.
What a wonderful moment. Rosa, you agree?
It's all right. It's all right.
Wonderful moment ...Ment
between two guys between two guys
Oh. The da wants to set bail for Patterson's wife.
They need me to send them all the files.
I'm the secondary. I'll go back there and do the busy work.
You guys stay here and keep celebrating.
You sure you're not just sneaking off for more weird dead guy sex?
We will never speak of that again. Never.
Okay, bye.
God. Crazy day, huh?
I hate small talk. Let's drink in silence.
Perfect.