Hello, Mr. Gator.
You're gonna make an awful nice pair of boots.
Good morning, Detective.
Oh, my God, Geils.
Check this out!
"A rich, white man disappeared
from a swamp near New Orleans."
I guess New Orleans' string of good luck
has finally come to an end.
And he was a trophy hunter.
This could be our serial killer!
You mean, your serial killer.
You're the one with the obsession.
I'm not obsessed.
I just think he's amazing and brilliant,
and I think about him all the time.
Besides, you're the one who said we should share our interests.
I spent 11 hours at the adult Lego convention.
The least you could do is show a little bit of interest
in this murder.
First of all, not murder... disappearance,
and people go missing all the time.
Usually, it's something benign, like they have a second family
or they ran off to join a jam band.
What about the trophy hunting?
We're calling alligators trophies now?
I mean, it's cool that they breathe fire,
but otherwise, they're just big lizards that teleport.
I'm gonna look into this whether you're interested or not.
I'll go to the Lieutenant if I have to.
Yeah, good luck with that. Can you toss me my clothes?
Let's go.
No, no, no, no, no, no!
If I knew this was the dating pool,
I would've been a better husband.
He struck again.
You're kidding.
Who cooked salmon in the microwave at 10:00 in the morning?!
The hunter.
The hunter? Who's the hunter?
That's the nickname Tribeca's given
the serial killer who's been murdering rich white guys
and stealing their clothes to make outfits for animals.
The hunter?
That's pretty bad-ass.
What do we know?
Charles Ravenel disappeared from a bayou
outside of New Orleans three days ago.
Everything about this fits the profile of the Hunter.
New Orleans?
We don't investigate some murders inside our jurisdiction
'cause they're too far.
This is N.O.P.D.!
The murders started in L.A.
Did we officially call dibs?
No, sir.
Then I don't have a leg to stand on!
Geils, you want to weigh in here?
I don't know, Lieutenant.
It's a real stretch,
but I'm the one that has to sleep next to her,
so I stand by my partner.
Bring me back some maple syrup.
You got it.
And this is your lucky day
because the captain of the N.O.P.D.
just happens to be a relative of mine,
so... pack your bags.
You're headed to the Big Easy.
Synced and corrected by hawken45 for www.addic7ed.com
You forget about the humidity.
No doubt.
I don't mind it.
Where's Hoffman?
He doesn't like to fly, so he took a train.
Tanner, why don't you go find somewhere to set up?
Geils and I will check in with the captain.
Geils, Tribeca!
Get the hell in here!
Well, don't just stand there,
gawkin' like a couple of corn husks.
Come on in!
Captain Beau Atkins at your service.
My cousin Pritikin was courteous enough
to call and alert me to your arrival.
Pleasure to meet you, Captain.
Thank you so much for having us at your precinct.
It's much appreciated.
Well, they told me you was the difficult one,
and, boy, do you not disappoint.
Rest assured,
all our resources will be at your disposal.
Gumbo?
Eh, if it's all the same to you, Captain,
we would like to stow our things
and head down to the crime scene at sunrise.
"Sunrise."
Boy, oh, boy, it's gonna be a week.
We call that "dawn" down here.
I think you're gonna find a lot of things different
from what you're used to.
Copy that, Captain. Now, if someone could just
point me in the direction of the bathroom.
The bathroom?
Hey, Kyle!
You want to show Detective Geils where the "bathroom" is?
Sir?
I think down here, they call it the "restroom."
Oh, sorry... Restroom.
Oh, of course. Right this way.
And by the way... we pronounce it "restroom."
Good morning!
You must be our guests from L.A.
Detective Zachary Fontaine.
Tribeca, Geils, Tanner.
Well, welcome to New Orleans.
I understand you're taking quite an interest
in the disappearance of Mr. Ravenel.
It's just, there are two cases in L.A.
over the past couple of months that were very similar.
We think it might be the pattern of a single individual.
Wouldn't an individual always be single?
Ow! Shit!
Oh, look there! That's a Louisiana Biter Snake.
They do love to bite.
Can you tell us anything about the victim,
like who kidnapped him and where he is now?
Charles Ravenel...
real estate developer, 59-years-old,
never been married,
made his money by buying affordable housing,
and then he'd raise the rents to drive the tenants out.
Then he'd burn the buildings to the ground
and collect the insurance money.
He's what we call "a genius."
So, some people wouldn't even mind
if something bad happened to him, huh?
Well, we have a saying down here...
"Don't share your sayings with outsiders."
If you wouldn't mind me asking,
did you find anything in his boat?
Whoa-hoa!
There's that attitude I've been hearing so much about.
I'll try to take that with a grain of salt.
Yes, we found a satchel.
It had his wallet, assorted personal items in it,
a few chips from a local riverboat casino.
And this.
Chicken bones? Is that a voodoo necklace?
Affirmative.
They still believe in witchcraft down here.
I'll have you know that New Orleans is
the new epicenter of the tech industry.
You ever heard of instacom. Blam? 'Cause you will.
Yeah, you got yourself a real silicon swamp down here.
All right, guys, enough.
This isn't a competition... although we will win.
Any occurrence of the occult in any of your previous cases?
No. No, there weren't.
Tanner, you should probably get that looked at.
Yeah.
Weird thing is, it bit my other hand.
Hey, Hoffman. How was the train?
Could you fax this back to Scholls
and see if she can pull any prints or DNA?
I'm gonna go see if I can pop this.
Should we sit here?
I don't know, Tribeca... voodoo?
What are we getting mixed up in here?
You don't really believe in that stuff, Geils, right?
Of course not... Ow!
How long have those been in there?
I know it's the Hunter.
I don't know how I know, but I know.
He wanted me to come here.
So now your serial killer's a voodoo sorcerer?
The pieces aren't adding up... Aaah!
Aaaaaah! Foot cramp!
Yes, I'm getting it now.
Thanks, Hoffman.
Well, I'm terribly sorry that your case didn't get
tied up in a pretty little bow like y'all wanted.
But at least I saved you the trouble
of having to change your airline tickets,
so you can get outta here ahead of schedule.
I hope you're comfortable with the added responsibility
of sitting in an exit row.
We're not going anywhere, Fontaine.
This is our guy.
We've put all the pieces together, and they fit perfectly.
You think I'm gonna give this guy the satisfaction?
No way.
I'll stubbornly cling to your idiotic theory,
thank you very much.
Now, what ridiculous hunch of yours do we follow next?
Casino chips...
Did Ravenel have any gambling debts?
Maybe the casino sent some goons to collect?
I suppose it's possible.
The chips in his bag did come from the Rusty Trombone Riverboat Casino...
a nefarious operation at best.
Hey, Tanner.
Can you and Hoffman go down to the Rusty Trombone
and see if Ravenel was a regular there?
On it.
And what about this guy that called in the missing person?
Mr. Swampy Latrine... has anybody talked to him?
Swampy's played sax for 50 years down at the Blue Mongoose,
a club owned by Ravenel.
And yes, I did talk to him.
We may talk a little funny, Detective, but I assure you,
we know which end of the alligator you want to stick your hand in.
And which end would that be?
Why don't you come down to an alligator farm, and I'll show you.
You pay for the Uber, and I'll be there.
Detectives!
We are all on the same side...
except for you two.
Geils, we can't leave New Orleans
without hearing some jazz, so we might as well
go down there and hear what Mr. Latrine has to say.
Well, I've always heard jazz was stupid.
Maybe I'll give it a listen and make up my own mind.
Go for it, don't let me stop you from enjoying
the sights and sounds of our lovely city.
Show me your boobs!
Boy, it's dark in here.
This music is great.
It's rambling and directionless, but I'm also bored.
Y'all want a table?
We'll sit at the bar.
Can you let Swampy Latrine know
there's some detectives here to talk to him?
Can I see your badge?
All right, have a seat. I'll let him know.
What are you having?
Gosh, it all looks so good. I'll have a mint julep.
Whiskey.
Thank you! We're gonna take a little break.
Somebody looking for Swampy?
Yes, Detective Angie Tribeca, L.A.P.D.
This is Detective Geils.
Would you mind taking off your sunglasses, sir?
Y'all a long way from home, detectives.
What can I do you for?
I know the local police have already talked to you
about the disappearance of Charles Ravenel.
No, ma'am, they ain't.
You haven't been questioned by detectives
about Ravenel's disappearance?
No, and I called them a bunch of times.
You got any idea where he is?
Not yet, we were hoping you would
shed light on the situation.
I'm as much in the dark as you, but he owes me money.
Better not have skipped town,
or we really gonna be playing the blues around here.
Let's go. Swampy, you're back up.
One-Eyed Willie say it's time to go,
it's time to go.
Thank you, Mr. Latrine, we'll let you know
if we track down your employer.
Swampy doesn't know anything. He just wants to get paid.
I agree.
What about a disgruntled tenant from one of his buildings?
Mm, doubt it. Nobody called in a ransom.
Why kidnap someone if you're not gonna make money for it?
I just... keep going back to the Hunter.
I know. I saw you doodling.
Without leads or witnesses,
it's the only explanation we've got.
Unless he really was killed in some voodoo ritual.
Voodoo isn't real, Geils.
There's no such thing as a bad lead, Tribeca.
Let's at least what the N.O.P.D. voodoo expert has to say.
Fine.
Hey!
Come in.
I'm Detective...
Tribeca. This is Geils.
We're investigating
the disappearance of Charles Ravenel.
Hey, come on in, guys.
I'm Eric. Take a seat.
This voodoo department is way better than ours.
Actually, I'm a mentalist.
Miss Lillian, our voodoo expert, is out sick today.
Sorry to interrupt.
Oh, not a problem.
I'm just doing tomorrow's crossword.
Now, is there something about a necklace?
How did he know... I can read your thoughts.
No, but that time I just saw that she was holding a necklace.
This necklace was found in Charles Ravenel's backpack.
Hey, don't worry about it. It's just a spill.
You know, I'm sensing that this necklace is a fake
and can be found in any New Orleans gift shop.
It's fake?
Why would Ravenel have a fake voodoo necklace?
The real question is,
why would Ravenel have a fake voodoo necklace.
You two are trying to make your relationship work.
The sex is good.
Wow!
Yeah, it's really good.
But Geils wants things
that Tribeca's just not ready to give.
- That's not true. - That's amazing.
I hope that I was helpful.
Yes, thank you so much.
Whoa! What the hell?!
I was just trying to shake your hand.
Oh, okay.
Well, how about a little bit of a head's up next time, huh?
Thank you.
You look that way, I'm gonna check this way.
Thank you.
Welcome, sir. Where you from?
We'll get into that.
Do you know if Charles Ravenel ever came through here?
Charles Ravenel never set foot in this casino.
Scholls, what are you doing here?
I found some pretty interesting
forensic evidence on that bag you sent me,
so I decided I should fly in and deliver it right away.
No, I mean, what are you doing here?
I thought you was trying to beat
this whole gambling thing, girl!
Get off my back!
This is my last time, I swear.
How do you know Ravenel never came through here?
Ravenel's prints were on his wallet and his personal items,
but none on the casino chips.
21.
Sorry, ma'am, too many.
So the chips were clean?
Chips weren't clean. There were fingerprints on them.
Just not Ravenel's.
Blackjack.
Better luck next time.
Any idea who?
The prints match those of a small-time crook named Calvin Sniglet.
Blackjack.
Ooh, 22, so close.
So he had run-ins with the N.O.P.D.
Actually, all of his run-ins were with the L.A.P.D.
What? See, now I'm confused.
Sir, you're gonna want to split those.
Split away, bro.
Blackjack.
- 35. - Ugh.
Tonight's just not your night.
Well, let me get on out of here and go tell Tribeca everything
I found out about Sniglet, all right?
Whoo!
Yes.
Uh, are you coming?
In a minute.
The craps table looks like it's really heating up.
Calvin Sniglet... breaking and entering,
trespassing, assault... all in L.A.
Well, why is he here? What connects him to Ravenel?
And why are his prints on the chip in Ravenel's bag?
And which Wi-Fi network are y'all using?
All I know is, we got to crack this
'cause I can't stand one more minute
of looking at Fontaine's smug mug.
Have you noticed that every lead Detective Fontaine has given us
has been a wild-goose chase?
The chip, the voodoo necklace.
Plus, Swampy Latrine said he never even met Fontaine.
And that jambalaya place he recommended
gave me the worst diarrhea I've had in nine years.
Excuse me, Captain. Sorry to bother you.
That's all right, Tribeca. I'm starting to like the sass.
Do you know if Detective Fontaine is in today?
I'm sorry, who that now?
Detective Zachary Fontaine.
We met him at the scene of the crime.
Whoa, whoa, whoa.
It's not N.O.P.D. policy to go to the scene of the crime.
I don't know who it is you thought you saw there,
but if it was one of my detectives,
I'd have his badge.
Are you saying that there's no Detective Fontaine
that works in this precinct?
That is what I'm telling you.
What if Fontaine is actually Calvin Sniglet?
What if Sniglet... is the Hunter?
Wait, wait, wait, I thought the Hunter's name
was Robin Dorsay.
Watch this.
Calvin Sniglet.
And look at his record... all animal-rights stuff.
Breaking and entering into a trophy hunting guide business,
trespassing on a big-game reserve,
stuffing bunnies down his pants at a pet store.
And look at their photos side by side.
See the similarities?
Fontaine, A.K.A. Dorsay, A.K.A. Sniglet,
has been playing us this whole time.
He's like 20 steps ahead of us.
God, he's so smart.
He really cares about the world.
He's probably a great conversationalist.
He's a serial killer and a total douche bag,
and not that I'm keeping score,
but I have seven, and he has five.
Look, he just swiped his credit card at a motel outside of town.
That's where he's holding Ravenel.
I'd bet my doomed relationship on it.
What did she say?
Thank you.
Freeze! Hold it right there.
It's Ravenel. We're too late.
There's a note taped to his chest.
"Better luck next time."
And then, there's just letters.
"C.U. next Tuesday."
He's gonna strike again.
Good evening, Detective.
Oh, Geils.
You don't have to wait on me hand and foot.
I like doing it.
I mean, when you meet the person you're gonna be with
for the rest of your life and in heaven,
you don't mind doing things for them.
Thanks.
Oh. Aah.
Hey, I don't mean to be a bug,
but if you want to get a cabin for Halley's Comet,
they're going pretty fast. When is that again?
July 2061.
I'm gonna brush my teeth.