Transcript

Man 1: Help you?

Kelso: How may guys you got working here, pop?

Man 1: Whose asking, son?

Kelso: It could be official or unofficial, depends on how you want to play it.

Man 1: You should get to a hospital, son. That arm of yours appears to be letting in daylight.

Kelso: Save the pity for the other guys. They're the ones who need it. I'm looking for a big cowboy who works pest control. Does he work here?

Man 1: We don't have anyone like that here.

Kelso: You sure? I'm not the type of guy you want coming back.

Man 1: Yeah, I'm sure.

Phelps: What have you got?

Patrolman: Looks like a drug overdose.

Earle: Get away from him, Phelps. This is my case.

Phelps: Shut your fucking mouth. Since when does a bag man work a case?

Earle: I knew this creep was in on the morphine heist. A victim of his own product.

Patrolman: Hey, Detective. Can we back it off a notch? This is getting out of hand.

Biggs: There's a time to talk and a time to shut up. Now is the time to be quiet, son.

Phelps: Courtney Sheldon was a corpsman, Roy. He served his country. He went out with a medical kit and an Army .45 into places that made the Valley of Death look like a picnic. He was either naive enough or dumb enough to get involved in the Suburban Redevelopment Fund along with the mayor, the DA, Monroe, and a certain crooked cop.

He was involved in the morphine heist, but he has a puncture wound in his jugular, which makes this a murder case. He was a better man than you'll ever know. You say one more word about him, and I will blow your fucking head off.

Earle: You finally lost it, partner.

Phelps: I have a pretty good idea why Sheldon is dead, and I know about Monroe. Your vast corrupt future is draining away as we speak.

Earle: I've got better things to do than argue the rub with you.

Phelps: Stay with him until the coroner gets here. Make sure Technical Services bags the evidence. If you let this creep anywhere near it, I'll come looking for you.

Patrolman: Yes, sir.

Biggs: You know, Phelps, you're not the worst asshole going around.

Phelps: Thanks, Herschel.

Man 2: Welcome to Nuclear. What can I do you for?

Kelso: I work for the DA. I need to speak with an exterminator, big guy with a cowboy accent.

Man 2: We have only three people who work here. Me and two Mexicans. They're both on the scrawny side.

Kelso: Thanks for your help.

I work for the DA. I'm looking for a big cowboy who does extermination. Anyone like that working here?

Man 3: Well, I wouldn't want to get anyone into any trouble.

Kelso: We could do this the hard way. An address?

Man 3: Yeah. He lives in a bunkhouse on the remains of the old Rancho Rincon.

Kelso: Thanks.