Adam=teal
Angell=pink
Danny= red
Flack=blue
Hawkes=violet
Lindsay=indigo
Mac=dark red
Reed= light brown
Sid= green
Stella=olive green


401, “Can You Hear Me Now?”

Airline Employee [regarding lipstick on Mac’s cheek]: Looks like someone’s going to miss you.

Flack [to Mac]: Welcome back to the land of the free and the home of the depraved. You didn’t actually think we’d let ya get settled, did ya?

Flack: Lady Liberty isn’t our only victim.

[Mac joins Stella on the balcony surrounding the Statue of Liberty’s Torch]
Mac: So what’re we lookin’ at, Detective?
Stella: Evidence of sexual activity.
Mac: Nothing’s sacred anymore.

[Mac pops his head over the edge of Lady Liberty to find Danny in a harness, processing]
Mac: What’s the verdict?
Danny: Ho! Welcome to the party, Mac!

Adam [waking up and groggily answering phone]: Adam Ross.
Lindsay: Hi, I’m calling from the office of unemployment.
Adam: Oh! Lindsay, hey.
Lindsay: Word is that Denny’s is looking to hire some socially awkward scientists.

Lindsay: Get your little ass to work!
[Lindsay hangs up the phone]
Adam: Kendall! Uh, wake up, we’re late for work!
Kendall: We didn’t—
Adam: Oh, uh, no. No, no. I mean, I wish it was yes, yes, yes, but sadly, no.
Kendall: Okay. Ten more minutes.
Adam: No, no, no, no more minutes. [Lifts Kendall off couch] Come on, get up, get up, let’s go! Must—fight—crime!

Stella: There’s blood on the coin slot.
Flack: Yeah, I always like to do a little sightseeing after I commit murder.

Flack [regarding victim]: Am I crazy, or is he orange?

Adam [inspecting piece of metal]: Do I get a hint? Play 20 Questions?
Stella: It’s neither animal nor vegetable.

Adam: Richtendorf. She gets a piano wire, I get a bronze metal thing with bumps on it. Great. [Mimicking Kendall] ‘Oh, good, Stella—I have some information on the wire.’

Hawkes: What about the trace I collected from her arm?
Lindsay: Latex. More specifically, condom spray.
Danny: ‘Scuse me, what? I—uh, didn’t catch that.
Lindsay: Liquid rubber. German engineering at its finest.
Hawkes: I’m not sure I understand.
Lindsay: Well, allow me to demonstrate. Contrary to what you may have heard, science definitely does matter.
[Lindsay grabs a test tube and starts spraying]
Simply apply like so, allow a few moments for maximum drying time, and boom! Instant condom.
Hawkes: Are you serious? Spray-on condom.
Danny: Where does it—uh—how—never mind.

Adam: Oh good, Stella! I got some information from the metal plate Sid recovered.

Stella: You got a name! That’s huge. Adam, really good work!
Adam: That’s how I roll. [Turns to Kendall] What up?!

Nova Kent: I lost that music box about a year ago.
Danny: Are you kidding me? You can’t come up with a better lie than that?

Nova: Yeah, well, I cried for three days when I realized it was gone.
Danny: You’re killin’ me right now.

Sid [regarding severed arm found in the water]: Two kids fishing off Battery Park got a little turf with their surf.

Stella: That smell like ammonia?
Flack: And death. Somethin’ definitely happened in this apartment.

Flack: He knows where we are!
Stella: It’s time to find out where he is.

Stella [walking into Mac’s office with an evidence box]: Mac, I told you to go home and get some rest. You would say—
Mac: What’s in the box?
Stella: Of course you would.

Nova: I traded silence for my life.

Flack [to suspect]: I’m gonna go out on a limb here and say the jury’s probably not gonna buy the ‘twin tulip van’ defense.

Morton: Can you hear me now?
[Stella shoots him in the upper thigh]
Stella: Loud and clear, Morton.

Mac: For some the greatest sin is to turn away and do nothing.

402, “The Deep”

Flack: Our vic’s this way. Floater. Popped up in the middle of a sailboat race between New York and New Jersey.
Danny: I read about that. Re-enactment of a race that happened back in the 1600’s?
Mac: Legend has it the winner got possession of Staten Island.
Flack: Too late to give it back?
Danny: Yeah, very funny, Flack.

Danny: You gotta be nuts to dive in the East River.

Sid: Few people realize that starfish are carnivorous. First they attacked any tissue that wasn’t covered by the wetsuit, and then they traveled down the esophagus and started feasting on internal organs.
Stella: Hm. An all-you-can-eat buffet.

Stella: Sid, is that an ear?
Sid: Apparently, our starfish found silicone to be unappetizing.

Lindsay: Did you know they [starfish] have two stomachs?
Stella: Don’t imagine you autopsy too many starfish in Montana.
Lindsay: These will be my first.

[Flack looks at photo of dive instructors and bikini-clad women]
Flack: I think we should split the list.
Stella: Lemme guess. You get all the single women?

Lindsay: In the 1960’s, the New York subway contained asbestos insulation.
Mac: In the walls and floor tiles. You givin’ us a history lesson?
Stella: Be patient, Mac—it’s always worth it.

Danny: Graveyard for subways? What happened, they run out of landfills, or what?
Mac: Cheaper to sink ‘em than scrap ‘em.
Hawkes: The subway reefs provide a marine life sanctuary.
Danny: Yeah, well, screw da fish. They’ve provided us with a crime scene.

Hawkes: Which still doesn’t tell us what they were doin’ down there in the first place.
Sid: Beats me. I don’t even swim.

Flack: What happened? You find your beautiful young wife engaged in a little between-the-sheets exploration with her dive instructor? St. Kitt’s. Romantic. Must’ve been tough to be the third wheel.
Suspect: Eh, it wasn’t so bad. At least I had the fish to keep me company.
Flack: And that knot on your head? Did ya get that from one of your finned companions?

Danny: Me and my brother, we used to take my grandfather’s old rowboat out into the harbor—dive for bottles.
Hawkes: Sounds like big fun.
Danny: Yeah, yeah, yeah, except this one time, we drifted out into the shipping lane—Coast Guard had to come scoop us up. My mother was so pissed off she didn’t talk to me for a week. It was kind of a peaceful week.

Danny: So, is it true what they say?
Hawkes: What’s that?
Danny: That your life passes right before your eyes?
Hawkes: I could only think of one thing the whole time I was down there.
Danny: What? Was it your first kiss?
Hawkes [grunting in pain and holding his ribs]: Don’t make me laugh.
Danny: What?
Hawkes: Sid Hammerback. I was in his lab on the autopsy table, Sid was standin’ over me firin’ up the bone spreader.
Danny: That’s morbid.

Flack: What happened down there? I got a call from dispatch about some kinda problem. I got here as soon as I could.
Danny: Methane gas bubble caused an explosion. Hawkes got trapped underneath the ship’s mast.
Flack: Wow. Some guys’ll do anything for an early pension!

Lindsay: The worst part was sitting there watching not being able to do anything.
Danny: Wasn’t much better bein’ there in person, trust me.

Lindsay: You know, he’s lucky he had you down there with him, Danny.
Danny: Stop goofin’ off. We got work to do.

[Stella begins to walk away from drink cart]
Drew: You don’t take risks, do you? You’re practical! Rational, probably an only child. You had a lot of responsibility as a kid.
[Stella turns around and walks back to get in Drew's face]
Stella: You’re the youngest in a family of girls. They pampered you, praised you—I bet they hung on your every word.
Drew: Guilty.
Stella: I gotta go.

Stella: All right, Balkan countries for $5,000. Greece, Bulgaria.
Mac: Turkey, Serbia. . . .

Mac: All the evidence we needed was in that one syringe.
Danny: Boom.

Stella [to perp]: Hold it! Where’s the target? Where’s the damn target?!

Danny: Where’s the bomb?
[Mac comes in and slams perp up against the wall]
Danny: Mac! Easy!
Mac: You feel that? That’s my arm closin’ off your trachea. You got one minute to tell me where you planted that bomb.

Danny: You should be home in bed by the looks of it.
Hawkes: I just wanted to—uh—you know—
Danny: Hey, hey. Forget about it, all right? It’s all in a day’s work, right? You’d do the same for me, no?
Hawkes: Well. . . .
[Danny and Hawkes laugh]

403, “You Only Die Once”

Flack: NYPD! Don’t move!
[Perp jumps out Devon’s window]
Flack: You gotta be kiddin’ me!

Flack: I need to borrow your car! C’mon! Out, out, out! Let’s go!
Cabbie [turning on meter]: You pay for that!

Flack: What the hell kind of car are you?!

[Devon is excitedly talking on the phone, telling a friend about the robbery]
Flack: Is that shock, or just weird?
Stella: She’s a lucky girl. Just got robbed by a secret agent! She’s gonna get all kinds of invitations for the “in” parties. Did you get a description of the car?
Flack: Yep, it was your average super-stealth spy car—whatever model comes with the blue fire getaway package.
Stella: Okay.
Devon [coming up and putting her arm around Flack]: So, we are invited to a very exclusive fundraiser on Wednesday night.

Stella: What kind of thief sneaks into an apartment in the middle of the night and turns on the lights?

[DB’s jacket is opened to reveal a tuxedo underneath]
Flack: At least he dressed for the occasion.

Hawkes: They hit Sinclair’s house, then they hit you—maybe they’re targeting cops.
Flack: Only problem with that is it was my girlfriend’s place.
Hawkes: Girlfriend? How long has that been goin’ on?
Flack: Couple weeks.
[Hawkes nods knowingly; Flack raises his eyebrows in that little gesture we all LOVE! :) ]

Flack: That means someone in this town has a license to kill.

Sid: Except for the facial contusions, there are no other external injuries. Still, as Mrs. Barry (my third-grade counselor) told my mother, “It’s what’s on the inside that counts.”
Mac: Mrs. Barry have a COD?

Rodriguez: Maude, where are you?!
Flack: She’s over there.
[Rodriguez turns; Flack rips off his Bluetooth]
Flack: I got your attention now?

Flack: Seems Mr. Rodri-guez has short-term memory issues.

Danny: What’s in the bag?
Lindsay: The future, Mr. Messer.

Danny: Whoa, Mac! Back in black! That a new shirt? That’s nice.

Lindsay: Maybe whoever the vic was robbing pepper-sprayed him.
Stella: That’s kind of a big leap from pepper spray to crushing someone, scalping them and then dumping their body.

Mac: We need to figure out why our gang accelerated from robbery to murder.

Flack: So somewhere in this town we’ve got a glowing thief who may be our killer.
Stella: Exactly.

Danny: Ho! How’s that new girlfriend?
Flack: Keep walkin’, Messer.
Danny: No seriously, where’d you meet her?
Flack: Met her at a charity event. Police-Fire hockey game.
Danny: So she’s got teeth, or—
Flack: Move.

Mac: Someone’s playing a very real game. And I’m the target.

Danny: Speed Racer’s Mach 5 does not compare to the Batmobile. End of story.
Lindsay: Are you kidding me? The Mach 5 had submersible capabilities and a robotic homing pigeon.
Danny: Yeah, and so did the Batmobile. Along with rocket boosters, armor plating. . . .
Lindsay: Mach 5—rotary saw.
Danny: All right, Montana—did Speed Racer’s Mach 5 have a field forensics kit?
Lindsay: The Batmobile did not have a field forensics kit.
Danny: In the Batmobile’s trunk it did!
Lindsay: That explains so much.

Car Dealership Salesman: Car retails for three hundred and fifty, but for a 50 thou annual membership, you can rent it whenever you want.
Flack [flashing his badge]: Got an hourly membership?

Salesman: I told you the car was stolen.
Flack: Yeah, we heard you.

Lindsay: Well, it seems the gang’s preferred drink wasn’t a martini.

Mac: Flack saw blue flames. The color pigment isn’t flammable—it had to be mixed with something else.
Lindsay: But if the GCMS isn’t giving me a reading, how do I identify it?
Mac: Trial and error.
Lindsay: Ah, we’re goin’ old school!

Lindsay [to substance, pleading]: Let it be blue!

Sinclair: Mac, do you have any idea what an accusation like this could do to my career?
Mac: Well, if you’re asking me if I know what it’s like to have my reputation called into question. . .I think you know the answer.

Lindsay [regarding discovery of correct accelerate]: Yes! I did it! I rock!

Stella: Okay, Mr. Rodriguez, tell us—who is your favorite Bond villain? Dr. No, Goldfinger, Blowfeld?
Rodriguez: I don’t go to the movies. I prefer live theater.
Flack: That makes sense. With the act you been doin’ around town—stealin’ peoples’ jewelry, personal information, not to mention you and your partner interrupted a very important third date.

Stella: Now when we first interviewed Rodriguez at the conservatory, he said he was planning the Mayor’s benefit. That’s tonight.
Flack: Stanton’s partner will probably be there.
Stella: You got a tux?

Flack [to bouncer]: Flack. Don Flack.

Devon: I heard that when cops work too hard they talk to themselves.
Flack [shocked]: Devon!
Devon: Thought you were working tonight. What is this, some sort of an undercover thing?
Stella [over the earpiece]: Tell her you’ll make it up to her.
Flack: I’ll make this up to you.
Devon: Yes you will. [Whispering in his ear] I think spies are sexy.
[Devon walks away; Double-O-Flack grins devilishly]

Stella: Maude! Nice jacket. Is it hotwired?

Flack [diving out of the way of the car]: Are you kidding me?

Stella: You’d never make it as a Bond girl drivin’ like that.

Danny: Ho, Montana! Hold up.
Lindsay: What’s up?
Danny: Overtime—uh, evidence is comin’ in on the James Stanton murder and we have a date with it.
Lindsay: We got the car?
Danny: You make the coffee, I’ll go get the Batmobile.

Stella: So if she didn’t do it, who did?
Mac: A Q wanna-be. Always behind the scenes, never got to use his own inventions.

404, “Time’s Up”

[Flack yanks shower curtain open to find suspected victim very much alive and showering]
Flack: Whoa!
Kevin Murray: Whoa!
[Flack turns his back]
Flack: You Kevin Murray!?
Kevin: Yeah. What. . .what do you want?
Flack: I want you to put this towel on and get dressed!

Flack: What’s your major, Kevin?
Kevin: Physics! I studied physics, I told you that already!
Flack: How ‘bout extracurricular activities? You sign up to play nutball with our friend in the helmet?

Mac: Unless you have some information to share about our victim, I don’t see what else we can do for you.
Kevin: How about guaranteeing me I’m still alive in 24 hours?
Mac: Ah. Nobody knows what the future holds. [Escorts Kevin out of Interrogation] Come on, bye-bye. Thank you.

[Danny inspects remains of pickle in front of victim with orgasmic look frozen on her face]
Danny: Must’ve been a helluva pickle.
Stella: City’s best.

Female café employee [to Angell, regarding victim's orgasmic noises]: Personally, I’ve given much better performances. She was clearly fakin’ it.

Male café patron [to Angell]: Take it from a man who knows, sweetheart—that show was all real.

Male café employee: In here for a cup of coffee, then some guy joins her—I bring back the pickles, then next thing ya know—
Angell: Tell me more about the guy.
Employee: Some jock. Probably about her age. Wearin’ a Chelsea shirt, had a t-rex tattoo on his arm. Can I get your phone number?
Angell: Why, you in trouble?
Employee: No. But I’d like to be.

Stella: Anything else about the guy?
Angell: Who ever he was, he didn’t stick around to cuddle.
Stella: Maybe this time Harry killed Sally.

[Stella opens package containing parachute from Drew]
Mac: There are safer ways to beat the traffic.
Stella: Oh, traffic I can handle! Men are another story.

Stella: Mac, my last boyfriend tried to kill me. And I shot him.

Mac: Forget about all the risks of romance and enjoy the rewards.
[Mac walks away]
Stella: Uh-uh.

Hawkes: Mac, is this what I think it is?
Mac: It’s a very elaborate attempt at time travel.
Flack: You guys talkin’ time machine? Whoa. Paging Dr. Who!
Hawkes: You mean Dr. Browning. Mac, this is our John Doe!
Flack: Got any pictures of him in a straitjacket?

Mac: Looks like this is where his time finally ran out.

Flack: This thing looks like an electric chair with mood lighting. I mean, we all agree here, right? Time travel only happens in movies? Or under the influence of certain controlled substances?

Mac: There’s a fine line between genius and insanity.

Flack: I’m thinking Kevin Murray’s the one who put a permanent end to his future. Kid’s got a shaky alibi at best. So if you guys can place him here, I’d be more than happy to place him in lockup.

Flack: I don’t know. If I could go anywhere back in time? Probably go back to my folks’ place in Queens for one of my mom’s corned beef Wednesdays. Yeah. I would endure every one of my brother’s insults at the table for one taste of that paradise.

Hawkes: In theory, if you built a machine that could travel the speed of light away from here, then slowed down, turned around and flew home just as fast, when you got back a trip that might have lasted seconds for you could’ve been weeks for everybody else.
Flack: Kinda like your explanation.

Stella: Well, there’s no way she could’ve done all this to herself.
Sid: Not unless she was capable of drawing on her own buttocks.
Danny: I knew a kid back in da Bronx who could blow out a candle with—
Stella: What about stomach contents?
Sid: Black coffee and pickles. Part of your nutritious breakfast.
Danny: So far we’re not hearin’ COD.
Sid: I see you’re not much for foreplay.

Stella: Death by orgasm?!

Stella: How in the world did this poor girl get her hands on a drug that turns pleasure into pain?

Danny: No. But I never heard of an elephant eating kosher dills either.

Stella: So I contacted the manufacturer—turns out it’s an experimental sexual enhancement drug only available in clinical trials.
Danny: Don’t look at me! I don’t need it.
Stella: You’re too old anyway. It’s currently being tested on students at the Chelsea University Health Center.
Danny: Wow. That’s like throwin’ gas on a raging hormonal fire.
Stella: Well, Detective Angell just got me a court order to pull all the patient files and talk to the students directly. I’m hoping that this will give us an ID on the perp.
Danny: That’s fan-tastic. We got horny college kids and horny mammals. You wanna trade?

Danny [to suspect cleaning dirt off mastodon remains]: Like to play dirty, huh kid?

Danny [to suspect]: They didn’t teach ya not to run in a museum?
Angell: The only person in the city currently working on mastadons.
Danny: Yeah, well that’s when he’s not, you know, leavin’ girls for dead in a deli.
Suspect: Look, I’m sorry. If I tell you the truth I’m gonna be screwed out of a scholarship!
Angell: Screw you out of a lot worse than that on a cell block. You better tell us everything you know about that girl.

Danny [to suspect]: Y’know, for a smart kid you’re a real bonehead. Let’s go.

Female study participant [to Jess and Stella]: They paid me a hundred and fifty bucks—and I spent a week straight in bed with my boyfriend. Then when he couldn’t take it anymore, got myself a new boyfriend.

Lindsay: Did you know that I was the third grade hopscotch champion of Hawthorne Elementary?
Mac: I don’t remember seeing that on your resume, no.
Lindsay: Well, trust me. I played and won ‘em all.

Mac: I think it’s high time we separate the science from the science fiction.

Danny: Yeah, and that’s when she lost control of herself in front of God and everybody.

Danny [to sorority girl perp]: So now we’re gonna perform a little ritual we like to call ‘arresting you for manslaughter.’

405, “Down The Rabbit Hole”

Hawkes: When I first arrived, I thought someone had dressed up one of the stiffs.
Mac: Yeah, except for this one has a very real bullet hole in her head.

Hawkes: Then brought her to a place where he’d have his own private audience.
Stella: Except these witnesses [mannequins] aren’t saying anything.

Sid: . . .and a contoured thread lift. Also known as a ‘facelift in a needle.’ It’s an outpatient process; very popular right now!
[Stella gives Sid a look]
Cosmo. My dentist subscribes.

Danny: Adam saw me runnin’ the vic’s photo through Missin’ Persons, said he recognized her from a video game he plays.
Adam: It’s not a game.
Danny: How does this cartoon connect to our Jane Doe?
Adam: She’s not a cartoon, all right? She’s an avatar, and her name is Venus.

Danny: Why?
Adam: It’s. . .fun.

Stella: Hey. I could use some good news.
Lindsay: Only 61 days until Christmas!

Lindsay: Sounds like Mr. Adventure wants to get physical.

Stella: Look for sources. Let’s hope this puts us on the trail of our killer—and then Christmas’ll come early for all of us.

Adam [regarding Mac's choice of Second Life character]: Male or female?
[Mac gives him a look]
What?! This is fantasy. Be all you can be! I. . .just wanted to let you know all your options.

Adam: Boss, if you go in-world looking like Joe Boring you’re gonna get flagged as a newbie.

White Rabbit: Hey, I’m flyin’ here!

[Mac’s avatar makes the switch from male to scantily-clad female]
Stella: Wow. Who’s the tacky dresser?
Mac: That’s me.

Mac [talking as female avatar to Don Juan 2-3]: Hi. I like your name. I love waterfalls, don’t you?
Stella: Oh, my god. You have no game whatsoever.
Mac: Hey, I don’t need a backseat avatar.
Stella: All right, then move over. Come on. Before your suspect bails.

Danny [seeing suspect start to flee]: He’s runnin!

Johnny: We’re in love.
Danny: ‘Scuse me, what? Love?!
Johnny: That’s right.
Stella: In Second Life.
Danny: You understand that she’s not real, Venus. Yeah?

Flack: When was the last time you slept?
Mac [scoffing]: I’ll be all right. Peyton decided to stay in London. Day after I got her letter I bought a ticket, figured I’d fly there, try and change her mind. But I couldn’t get on the plane.
Flack: What happened?
Mac: I realized what she said in her letter was right—it couldn’t work. New York was never her home, London is.

[Lineup of warriors confronts Mac’s avatar]
Mac: Oh, come on.
Adam: Dude, I mean. . .uh, sorry, boss—uh, with all due respect, you don’t stand a chance.
Mac: And you do?
Adam: I got skills!
[Mac gives him a look]
I think so.
Mac: All right, Adam. You lose, you lose the only solid lead we have.
Adam: I can do it.

Adam [while fighting in Second Life]: You want some of this? Say my name! Who’s your daddy?

406, “Boo”

Flack: Happy Hallo-weird, Mac!
Mac: Looks like quite a massacre.
Flack: Zombie flash mob? Yeah. I don’t get it either.

Flack: Maybe your guy decided to stop stalking you.
Mac: Maybe he’s getting’ ready to take it to the next level.

Mac: Blood trail?
Stella: I dunno. We’ve tested 30 stains so far. . .all fake.
Mac: So we don’t know if we’re lookin’ at a primary or secondary crime scene.
Stella: All we have is our vic and 300 zombies crammed into Midtown. Vandalizing stores, stalling traffic and scaring tourists.
Flack: All for a laugh.
Mac: Someone didn’t get the joke.

Sheriff: I got my men doin’ a canvass of the neighborhood, grid search of the yard, but so far no evidence of an elderly female intruder.
Lindsay: Do you not believe me?
Sheriff: All I’m sayin’ is, people come to town and get caught in the folklore.
Lindsay: Do we look like we’re here buying postcards?!

[Mac and Stella walk into morgue to find candles and other Halloween trappings]
Stella: Quite the ambiance, Sid!
Sid: Well, Halloween is the one day of the year where we’re allowed—encouraged!—to celebrate the dead. For without death, one cannot appreciate life.

Stella: That means he died twice! That’s not possible.
Sid: Well, I didn’t find any bite marks on him or human brains in his stomach, but he was dead before he was killed! Which, medically, makes him a zombie.
[Mac and Stella look incredulously at the body]
Happy Halloween.

Lindsay: Which means our killer left this footprint.
Danny: Boom!

Adam [regarding vic’s diaper]: Could’ve been his costume. Or, he could’ve been drinking and just knew how hard it is to find a bathroom in midtown Manhattan on any day, let alone Halloween.

Adam: He’s not sayin’ what I think he is, is he?
Stella [whispering dramatically]: We may have discovered where our vic first rose from the dead.

Mac: I hate zombies.
Stella: I know. They spoil all the fun, don’t they?

Mac: So whoever made this doll may have used Dexter Nevins as the ultimate sacrifice.

Blind Tarot Card Reader [to Mac]: Be careful!

Josephine De La Croix: Some people believe 333 to be a proverb. ‘The curse of the Lord is in the house of the wicked, but He blesses the habitation of the just.’
Stella: And what do you believe it to mean?
Josephine: 333 is the son of the devil, 666. The one who collects souls for the sins of our youth.

Danny: Maybe his truck has one of those anti-theft tracking—
Hawkes: No, no, no—come on. I already asked.

Danny: You can’t Lo-Jack a dog. . .wait, can you?

Flack [to Mac and Stella]: Hey, guys! I’m lovin’ your insurance scam theory.

Danny: No. It was you, Henry, who killed that family. It was not the devil.
Henry: You’re wrong. The devil did kill that family that night. He came to me the night my sister died in that house. I just didn’t know enough not to let him in.

Stella: So you think they’ll survive?
Mac: Depending on what the dosage was. For now, though, they’re caught between the living and the dead.

407, “Commuted Sentences” (My favorite episode of all time! :) )

[Flack comes up behind naked suspect in the bathroom]
Flack: Somebody get her some clothes. [to suspect] You’re under arrest.

Flack: We got a name! Your vic is Mitchell Bentley the Third, son of everybody’s favorite billionaire Mitchell Bentley, Jr. They shoulda stopped at two.

Flack: Looks like a good, clean case of revenge.

Lindsay: Vic’s name is Joanna Morgan. [reading business card] ‘Formidable Advertising Corp.’
Danny: Looks like somebody wasn’t buyin’ what she was advertisin’, huh?

Danny: I heard of ‘leave the gun, take the cannolis,’ but I never heard of ‘leave the gun, take the bullets’.

Flack [to suspect]: A coincidence?! Bumping into a dead body outside your apartment, who, it turns out, happens to be the same man recently acquitted of raping you?

Flack [to suspect]: ‘Must have. ‘Maybe.’ ‘I don’t know.’ Prosecutor’s gonna eat you alive.

Flack: She certainly has all the answers.
Mac: When you’ve taken the time to plan a murder it’s very possible you’ve considered all the questions.

Stella: Now, I did find traces of amino-methyl-propinol-methacrylate on the handles of these two knives.
Mac: You can just say hairspray.
Stella: Aw, I can’t help it. Chemical compounds just sort of roll off my tongue.

Sid: Oh, uh, Sheldon, hold on. Parting gift—barely digested stomach contents.

Danny: Maybe Sid’s theory is wrong. Stranger things have happened.

[Mac comes into breakroom to find Adam with a bottle of something yellow]
Mac: Specimen?
Kendall: He’s on a cayenne pepper and lemon juice diet. Twenty pounds in twenty days! Some girl at a bar told him his baby fat was cute. Bambi.
Adam: Thank you, Kendall.

Mac [to Adam, tossing muffin in his direction]: Eat something.

Larry: She made the reservation under Florence Nightingale. I’m thinkin’ fake name.
Flack: Real sharp, Larry.

Stella: Hard to tell what it [substance found on chair] is.
Flack: I will leave that up to you scientists.

Lindsay: Definitely could have gone right through the love handles.
[Lindsay pokes Danny in the stomach]
Danny: That’s too low, wiseass, ok? Trajectory angle was upward, front to back and probably—will ya stop fighting me already?—over the shoulder if it missed completely.

Danny: Boom!

Danny: Think Mr. Boy Scout over here’ll let me pop off a couple rounds?

Lindsay [about slingshot]: It’s not a true Mark Double-0 Eight, but it’ll do.
Danny: I can’t believe you’re not gonna let me shoot it.
Lindsay: We’d be here all day.
Danny: What, you shoot pebbles at squirrels back in Montana?
Lindsay: No, I used to shoot boys. Stand back and try to keep up.

Danny: Boom.

Danny: Quite impressive. I can’t believe that contraption [slingshot] actually worked!
Lindsay: And that all three of my shots were perfect?

Danny [to Lindsay]: Hey, yo! Dennis the Menace! Wait up!

Lindsay: So it’s a through-and-through and a through-and-through.

Mac: You have a habit of having dinner with sexual predators.
Suspect: Only when there’s money to be made.

Mac [to suspect]: I’d keep an eye on this story. I think there’s a few more chapters to be written. And we’ll keep an eye on you.

Flack: Four older brothers and a Detective Sergeant for a father?! Your old man dust you for prints when you got home from a date?
Angell: If it was up to them I wouldn’t have known boys existed until I was 21.
Flack: I’m sure the boys knew you existed.
Angell: Was that a line, Flack? Did you just bust out your game on me? It was, wasn’t it? Look at you! You’re blushing!
Flack: My game. Game, I have no game! If I did, that’s prob’ly as good as it gets.
Angell: I think it’s pretty good!

Flack: That woman pisses me off.
[Flack gets in the back seat of car and starts looking around]
Angell: What’re ya lookin’ for?
Flack: Somethin’ to help me put her in handcuffs the next time I see her.
[Flack holds up one of Amber Stanton’s hairs]
Angell: Not bad for a guy on a city salary.
Flack: Thank you.

Mac: Dig into those case folders, see if you can find anything we missed. I want answers.

Danny: This is quite the closet. It’s bigger than most living rooms in the Bronx.

Suspect: Detective Taylor better have crossed his ts and dotted his is before applying for this search warrant. My lawyer is going to have a field day.
Lindsay: Not before we do.

Angell: We need your signature, Mr. Kaplan.
Suspect: So you’re the one who pulled me outta bed to make me come down here? Not bad.

Angell [pulls back suspect’s shirt to reveal bandage on shoulder]: What do we have here? [sticks her finger in the wound] Oh, I’m sorry, did I hurt you?

Danny: Pay attention here, Lover Boy, all right?

Suspect: Well, well, well—you guys do your job, and if my lawyer’s on the ball, you’ll be testifyin’ in my defense.
Danny: I gotta tell ya, I really hope your lawyer does drop the ball. [to uni] Hey, do me a favor—get this moron outta my face?

Suspect: If I’m being charged with taking the railroad, I confess.

Fern: Mitchell Bentley stole a piece of my soul when he attacked me. Cutting through the park was my way of telling him he wasn’t going to steal anything else.

Mac: When did the two of you decide to become judge, jury and executioner?

Mac: Killing out of vengeance is not justice, Ms. Stanton. Justice is conscience. You lose that, you have nothing.

408, “Buzzkill”

Flack: Anna Donovan. 21 years old—dead in a Mirado martini.
Stella: Live wire electrocution?
Flack: From the looks of it, I’d say someone ordered death, straight up.

Angell: Club Prowl has a strictly cash-only policy. NYPD brass threw a fit last year when it opened.

Security Guard: How many more floors do you wanna check?
Flack: Relax. Your GQ’ll still be waitin’ for you when we get done.

Flack [to security guard, indicating locked door]: Hey champ, wanna do the honors?

Suspect: I wasn’t trying to hurt anybody.
Flack: Then why’d you shoot tennis balls at the billboard, Nick?
Suspect: I tried to ignore it. But it just kept doggin’ me. Night after night, on and off, on and off, on—
Flack: You know somethin’, Nick? You’re startin’ to piss me off. So why don’t you do me a favor—take a nice big gulp of that coffee, gather your thoughts and start from the beginning.

Flack: Nick! I’ve had guys in here blame their criminal behavior on wives, bosses—even the devil. But I gotta tell ya, this is a new one. You’re tellin’ me you were driven to this by a shiny red light?!

Flack [to suspect]: Well, mission accomplished. Now you can dry up in Sing Sing.

Hawkes: I love this job. So many surprises.
Mac: Yeah, well, don’t keep it to yourself, Hawkes. Whaddya got?

Sid: Pulmonary edema causes acute pain. Most people would’ve jumped into an ambulance, not an oversized martini glass.

Lindsay: Yeah. Along with fat-burning capsules, appetite suppressants, water pills—a typical meal plan for anyone about to wear next to nothing in the middle of Times Square.

Danny: We got one dead guy and a woman clinging to life—all for 35 Gs. Pathetic, isn’t it?

Mac [looking at generic sketch of suspect]: So we just need to find everybody with two eyes, a nose and a mouth.

Mac: We already have the edge. Let’s use it.

[Suspect’s cat jumps up on the store counter, knocking over container containing heroin lollipops]
Flack: I’d get rid of that cat if I were you.

Flack: Listen to me. I already got you on possession of heroin—just a hop, skip and a jump to murder if I work this right. And for your information, I’m very good.

Suspect: What does that mean? What’s gonna happen to me?
Flack: Ask your lawyer.

Sid: Our vic’s body couldn’t help but remind me of my great-uncle Andy.
Stella: Ugh, that’s enough to make any model break into tears.
Sid: Oh! No, there’s no physical resemblance—although he was in freakishly superior shape for an octogenarian. But no, what I mean is Uncle Andy would never finish telling a story. Every time you thought he was done, he’d find something more to say.

Mac: How’d the finger of a bat wind up in our killer’s ski mask?

Angell: Paul? NYPD! Come out with your hands up!

Danny: All right, we need to find out where they went and who’s sharin’ this dump with Paul.

[Hawkes pulls a bill out of his wallet as Danny closely inspects piece of paper]
Danny: Tippin’ me for my zoomin’ skills?

Angell: If you can raise the ink from the pouch, maybe we can get an address.
Danny: Whoa, whoa, what? You doin’ science now?

Danny: Boom.

Stella: I found our murder weapon.
Lindsay: Under a microscope?!

Danny: Big. . .fat. . .dead end!

[Danny has a flash of recognition cross his face and runs out of the room]
Danny: Thanks for the help, Doc!
Hawkes: I’m not even gonna ask.

Danny: Mac! I bet when you hired me you didn’t know about my baking skills.
Mac [gesturing to piece of paper in Danny’s hand]: Doesn’t look too appetizing.

Danny: Boom!

Danny [busting into suspect’s apartment with gun drawn]: Special delivery!

409, “One Wedding And A Funeral”

Flack: So the Hatfields and the McCoys couldn’t keep it together long enough to merge the family fortunes.

Flack: From what she [bride] said between the hysterics, I don’t think she knows anything. I’m gonna try to talk to her again though. The eight tranquilizers mommy gave her shoulda kicked in by now.

Flack [looking at dead groom]: Gives new meaning to cold feet.

Mac: So how’d the only guy not throwing punches end up dead?

Sid [holding up cell phone he extracted from vic’s stomach]: My very first dead ringer.
[Danny laughs, Hawkes gives Sid a look]

Danny: Wait, so he was stuffed and then wrapped like a gift?

Stella: What the hell were you thinking, Drew?! I mean, this was not cute, or funny, or the least bit charming!

Stella: You really didn’t send this [puzzle] to me.
Drew: No, but I do like a good challenge. You wanna put it together?

Flack: So the neighbors were very helpful: they saw nothing, heard nothing and know nothing. Welcome to my life.

Flack [to Hawkes]: I saw a garbage truck a couple blocks away. You better get to that dumpster before they do.

Lindsay: So I don’t get it. What does petrified wood have to do with a bloody puzzle?
Stella: And why were either of those things left for me?

Adam: I hate puzzles.

Mac: Keep me in the loop.
Stella: Always.

Flack: You wear orthotics, Tim?
Suspect: What are you, the foot police?

Flack: You ever see him before?
Bar worker: No. He’s hot. Who is he?
Flack: Let’s just say he left his bride at the altar in Central Park and he’s never comin’ back.

Lindsay [to Stella]: John Andrews, day manager. Apparently he moonlights as a p*dophile.

Lindsay [looking at construction site]: I hate to state the obvious, but there’s no building.

Flack: George, George, George. You played the grieving friend so well.
Suspect: What’re you talkin’ about?
Flack: We’re givin’ you a chance to come clean. Consider it a gift.

Suspect: I had like 15 shots of tequila last night.
Mac: Unfortunately, inebriation isn’t a justifiable defense for murder.

Flack: Uh, you’re gonna have to help us out here, pal—why did you have to get Brett to the park?
Suspect: It was a bet. He was engaged twice before and couldn’t go through with it. I bet our buddy Troy that he would definitely show up this time. There was no way I was gonna lose!
Mac: Whoa, whoa, whoa—you stuffed, dressed and moved your dead friend for a bet?!
Suspect: It was a hundred grand, man. I didn’t have it. And if I didn’t pay up Toby would’ve gone to my dad.
Flack [incredulously]: It never occurred to you, what with your friend being dead and all, that just maybe the bet was off?!
Suspect: I told you.
Flack: Yeah, ‘fifteen shots of tequila’! I heard you.

Flack: That is seriously the stupidest guy I’ve ever met.

Danny: Boom!
Adam: What’re you so happy about?
Danny: I figured out who killed my groom.
Adam: Was it the mother-in-law?

Adam [examining box of kitchen tools]: Schectel and Sage—they sell such amazing stuff! Whew!
[Danny looks at Adam funny]
I’m a. . .a gift-giver.

Adam: Since you’re havin’ all the luck today, maybe you can help me put together a puzzle or, at least, tell me what the green goo is that Doc pulled off your groom’s pants. I opened up my big mouth and said I could figure it out and now I’m stuck.
Danny: All right, well, what’s it worth to you?
Adam: Twenty-five bucks?
Danny: Twenty-five?
Adam: Yeah.
Danny: All right.

Danny: I wouldn’t take that kind of crap from a friend.
Suspect: When he offered me the chance to cater his wedding—
Danny: Right, right. You became his punk—just like you were back in college.

Perp: I sold my soul to the devil! I missed my kid’s birthday—for nothing! If you’d seen the look in my kid’s eyes when I had to leave his birthday party—
Danny: What do you think his eyes are gonna look like when he finds out Daddy is goin’ away for twenty-five to life?!

Mac: This puzzle is about my life.

410, “The Thing About Heroes”

Danny: Could be a woman.
Lindsay: Danny, no woman wakes up at 3:33 to make an anonymous phone call.
Danny: Sure about that?

[Subway train begins to move unexpectedly]
Flack: If this is a joke, so help me God. . . .
Lindsay [panicked]: I have a feeling we’re going for a ride!

[Mac stands looking at strung-up skeleton and bloody game of “Hangman” on the wall]
Detective Brennan, Chicago PD: You wanna tell me what this is all about?
Mac: Just give me some time. . .I’ll fill in the blanks.

Danny: He attached an mp3 player to the control panel, the sick bastard.
Stella: Yeah, well, that sick bastard is Mac’s stalker.

Brennan: Maybe you’ve forgotten that your badge doesn’t work in this city, Detective Taylor.

Flack: If all this connects to the same guy, he’s usin’ up his frequent flyer miles.

Flack [seeing Chief Sinclair walk out of the elevator]: This can’t be good.

Adam: This is amazing! I mean, this little mp3 gadget. . .it’s amazing!
Danny: Yeah. You realize there was a crime committed here, though, right?

[Adam pulls up “gateway” florist website]
Danny: He got his help from a flower delivery company?
Adam: You are so impatient.

Adam: Nirvana for the everyday hacker.
Danny: That’s for real.
Adam: Uh-huh.
Danny: A website that tells you how to hijack a subway train?!

Adam: You pay a small fee, you’re changin’ traffic lights on 5th Ave from your brownstone in Brooklyn.
[AFIS finishes a scan]
Danny: Fan-tastic. No match to the print I pulled off the mp3 player.

[Mac attempts to use his cell phone in the morgue and is unsuccessful]
Brennan: Bad reception down here.
Mac [giving her a look]: There’s bad reception everywhere.
Brennan: Okay, I deserved that.

Jimmy [to Mac]: What’s the statute of limitations on us sneakin’ into Wrigley?

Mac: I don’t regret the choice I made that day.
Jimmy: I don’t imagine that you do. Because you didn’t lose a brother. Your family didn’t fall apart. You didn’t watch your father cry for the first time in his life. Watch him crumble to his knees. You didn’t spend ten years tryin’ to make it up to your mother, lyin’ to little Andy about how Will died.

Jimmy [to Mac]: You—you stay away from me, you hear me? You don’t know a damned thing.

Flack: Little out of your jurisdiction, aren’t ya?
Mac: When you called me, I thought you were in New York.
Flack: Sneaky like that.

Mac: Wanna take a ride?
Flack: As long as it’s not on the subway.

Brennan [to Flack]: I see you found him.
Flack [smiling flirtatiously]: Yep. Took a little detective work.

Stella: Oh, my God—I was part of his plan!

[Sinclair approaches the team]
Flack: Mac, you want me to. . . .
Mac: Don’t worry about it, Don. I got this one.

Mac [to Sinclair]: This isn’t about my badge. It’s about me! I have to finish what he started!

Stella: If he’s expecting us, you can bet your ass he’s set traps.

Stella: It’s an underground tunnel.
Danny: Let’s move!

Drew: Mac Taylor. The Mac Taylor. Phew. You know, it’s funny—you don’t look like a hero.

Danny: Hard part is gonna be negotiating with this friggin’ guy. [. . .] I don’t know anyone who’s gonna be able to talk some sense into this nutjob.
Jimmy [appearing in the doorway]: I can.

Mac [to Drew]: I didn’t ask to be anything other than who I am.

Drew [to Mac]: 333. Numbers engraved in my head forever.

Drew [on the phone to whom he thinks is Stella]: Hey, baby. If you’re callin’ for another date, I gotta take a rain check. I’m busy.

Flack [to Drew]: Don’t move! Don’t you move!

Flack: You shot him [Drew] in the forearm. In a situation like that, we’re trained to shoot to kill.
Mac: Not this time. They’ve already lost enough—too much.

411, “Child’s Play”

[Stella and Flack are bending over victim with a gaping hole in his face where his mouth used to be]
Stella: Who’re we lookin’ at, Flack?
Flack: Essex Palmer—or what’s left of him.

Flack: According to witnesses, one minute he lit up, next minute he blew up.

Flack: Talk about goin’ out with a bang.

Flack: Everybody reports the same loud explosion, and then it was panic at the disco.

Ruben [to Danny]: Grab a shirt. We’re leaving.

Danny: Go straight home, Ruben!

Sid [realizing he’s come into contact with Itching Powder]: Aw, no! No, no!

Sid: Well, why aren’t you, uh [scratches himself furiously]—
Stella: The long-sleeved lab coat. Both stylish and functional.

Danny: This osteo-uh-thing? Can we track it?

Lindsay: I’m not very good at this kind of thing. What should I say to him [Danny]?
Mac: Just tell him you’re not very good at this kind of thing.

Mac [to Adam]: I want answers, not guesses.

Flack: Laughin’ Larry? You gotta be kiddin’ me. You have any idea how much of my childhood was cruelly destroyed by this moron?
Lindsay: Trust me, I feel your pain.
Stella: You two wanna enlighten me here?
Flack: I was into comic books as a kid, right?
Lindsay: Yep.
Flack: And this guy had a full-page ad in the back of each and every one of ‘em. Sellin’ things like Dribble Glasses, Onion Gum, Hypno Coins, Whoopee Cushions. . . .
Lindsay: Plastic vomit, rubber dog doo.
Stella: Hm. Sounds great.
Flack: Oh yeah, and it all looked great! And I’d do whatever it took. I would scrimp, I would save, I would mow every last lawn in the neighborhood to get my hands on Sneezing Salts or a hundred-piece battle fleet. And then, I go to the mailbox. And right there, before my innocent young eyes, would be disappointment in a cardboard box.
Lindsay: I once spent my entire summer allowance on this hovercraft Laughing Larry said would ‘take me and my friends riding on a carpet of thin air’! Hovercrap!
Flack: How ‘bout the X-ray specs I bought in middle school to see through girls’ clothes? Yeah. The only thing I ever saw through those was a nun comin’ at me with a yardstick.
Lindsay: Unbelievable!
Flack: Right?!
Stella: I bought sea monkeys!
Lindsay [sympathetically]: Oh.
Stella: But that was then and this is now, so c’mon—let’s go see a man about a cigar.

Flack: Laugh it up, Lar! You pull another stunt like that and I’ll add assaulting an officer to your murder charge.

Larry: Me? I don’t know the Internet from intercourse.

Larry: It was all in a handshake.
Stella: Yeah? Did he get the joybuzzer too?

Larry: People give me cigars all the time! Eh? It’s part of my shtick! What?
Flack: Well, how about I shtick you in lockup?

Larry [to Flack]: He was medium build, light hair, about your age—only a lot better-looking.

Lindsay: Aren’t fireworks illegal in the state of New York?
Flack: Yep. And so is murder.

Flack: Hold it right there! Hold it right there!
Suspect [dropping lit firework] I’d rather let it go.

[Flack jumps on suspect, knocking him down]
Flack: Stop, drop and roll, you son of a b*tch!

Suspect: He thinks he’s funny. But I know where to find him.
Flack: Good. You can send him a postcard from Shanghai.

Adam: Hey, Sid.
Sid: Mr. Ross! What brings you down here?
Adam: One question. Uh. . .how often are you wrong?

Sid: I hope you haven’t come down here to question my many years of a pathologist without some evidentiary ammunition.
Adam: The perp’s blue eyes. . .I, uh. . .kind of have a theory of my own.
Sid: Bring it!

Sid [to Adam]: I see, so you really came down here to run your theory by me so you could report to Mac and say I have your back.

Hawkes [to Adam, after hearing about eyeball tattooing]: What?
Mac: Somewhere in this conversation you’re gonna have to start making sense.

Adam [to Mac and Hawkes]: Veterinarians send the pets to tattoo artists, places that you and I go—uh, I mean, where I would go—um, anyway. . . .

Ollie Barnes [to Mac]: You got a lot to figure out, ‘cause I never fired my gun.

Mac: I thought I told you to take some time off.
Danny: You did. I just don’t wanna go home. It’s just when I walk down that hallway, I’m not gonna hear the kid laughin’ on the other side of the walls, y’know? Cryin’ when he doesn’t wanna go to bed. I’m afraid I’m gonna miss him.

Lindsay: The trouble is that the video is really grainy and I’ve just about tweaked it into oblivion. I was thinking it’s time for Plan B.
Stella: Biometrics?
Lindsay: Bingo.

412, “Happily Never After”

Stella: Who found her?
Flack: Couple over there was doin’ the mistletoe dance; said the platform just gave way.

Stella [regarding victim]: The Wicked Witch of the Upper East Side. Her reputation precedes her.

[Hawkes turns around from the DB to the sound of a gathered crowd bursting into applause]
Hawkes: They applauding? They’re applauding!
Flack: I guess the question isn’t, ‘who would wanna kill Fiona Chisholm,’ but ‘who wouldn’t?’
Danny [looking at vic with “Wendy” painted on her chest]: Last name woulda been nice.

Angell: Danny, I—I heard about the Sandoval shooting. Kid lived in your building?
Danny: His name was Ruben. Kid was only ten years old.
Angell: I’m sorry.

Sid: She was dead before the house—uh, castle—fell on her.

Sid: Fiona Chisholm died from a frozen heart.

Lindsay [glancing around victim’s swank apartment]: Wicked.

[Sid is perched by one of the autopsy tables, reading Peter Pan]
Mac: Not keepin’ you busy enough, Sid?

Mac [looking at impression on vic’s back]: What’s that?
Sid [playfully]: A fairy.

Sid: Which brings me to my research. A fairy, Wendy in a nightgown, killed by a sharp curved instrument—makes one wonder if you shouldn’t be looking for Captain Hook!

Danny: So our primary crime scene would be a building that’s thirty-five feet or higher. . .leaves about every structure in Manhattan.

Danny: Toy stores and schools are the last places I wanna be lookin’ for a killer right now.

Danny: Who breaks into a kindergarten classroom?!

[Mac begins examining planetary mobile]
Angell: Mac?
Danny [whispering loudly]: He’s been doin’ that a lot lately.
Mac: I didn’t know Mars had sunspots. If I remember correctly, sunspots don’t have directionality.

Danny: Does this make sense to anybody?
Angell: The way I remember it, Peter Pan was about a fantasy—not about a murder.

Lindsay: Hey Stell!
Stella: Yeah?
Lindsay: What do Pakistan, Nigeria and Afghanistan have in common?
Stella: Ooh. Do I really wanna know?

Suspect: I had a meeting with Fiona, but I didn’t attack her. We were friends. Good friends.
Flack: My friends don’t play broomball with my face.
Stella [to suspect]: Do you always resort to physical altercations when soliciting donations?

Hawkes: Snow machines. LN 2, pressurized air and water—instant winter fun!

Hawkes: So the killer got Fiona.
Lindsay: And her little dog too.

[Adam is rockin’ out to music in his headphones and turns to find Mac standing there]
Adam: Oh, hey.
Mac: That was a nice move. What is this, Dancing With The Scientists?
Adam: Uh, no—it’s more like a Wu-Tang with a little heel-toe action—uh. . .oh, yeah. Moving right along.

Adam: [Foxy] Makes ecstasy look like aspirin. And users report it induces a ‘child-like wonder.’
Mac: LSD with a twist.
Adam: And, the tox results confirm that the vic had Foxy in her system. So your Wendy was flying high at TOD.
Mac: Question is, who was her co-pilot?

Mad Hatter party host: This party is invitation-only.
Danny [holding up his badge]: Left mine at home.

Danny [to Mad Hatter]: Apparently the party’s goin’ on 24-7 in your head.

Suspect: And Foxy? Makes the game real. Turns Manhattan into Neverland.
Danny: Except nobody dies in Neverland.

Suspect: I don’t know what happened to the hook after I dropped it.
Danny: Somebody stuck it into Leslie Wright’s stomach a couple times!
Suspect: It wasn’t me.
Danny: Lemme explain this to you in a way you might understand. Forget Neverland! You gotta grow up. And that’s gonna be behind bars servin’ a life sentence for murder.

Hawkes: For the past 24 hours, this pampered pooch has been slummin’ it.

[Flack and Stella walk into vendors’ warehouse]
Flack: This is just wrong. Seriously, no New Yorker should ever see this. Ever.
Stella: You can always put in for psych leave.

Flack: Looks like you been roastin’ more than chestnuts in this thing, Felix.

Flack [while dusting himself off after rolling on vendor warehouse floor]: Arrrgh!

Stella: You okay?
Flack: No I’m not. I don’t think I’m ever gonna be the same.

Flack [to perp]: She pushed ya too far. You decided to. . .push back.

Stella [to perp]: Teaching someone a lesson only works if they’re still alive to learn it.

Mac: You tested positive.
Perp: For what?!
Mac: Murder.

Perp: The bottom line is, she didn’t say now. Call it whatever you want.
Mac: We call it rape.

413, “All In The Family”

[Mac and Hawkes are standing over victim]
Mac: Emily Miller. [Opens victim’s wallet] Last year of college. Organ donor.
Hawkes: Not much left in that department.

[Mac is examining broken-off piece of gargoyle]
Hawkes: Got a location?
Mac: I think we’re lookin’ at a stone-cold killer.

Hawkes: Killer coulda tried to toss the gun off this roof into the garbage bins below.
Mac: But hit the gargoyle instead.
Flack: Guy’d be the last pick on my team. Bin’s a straight shot down!

Angell: How’d you get here so fast? Call just went out.
Flack: Busy neighborhood.

Stella: Victim’s a family court judge.
Hawkes: Now we just have to find his jury.
Stella: And his executioner.

Sid [regarding shotgun]: And discharged itself into this poor woman, who was probably just trying to brighten up her dinner table with a tasteful floral arrangement.

Stella: Why beat someone to death with a shotgun when you could just shoot them?

Flack [to Lindsay]: I just wrapped up the paperwork on Emily Miller—talk about bein’ in the wrong place at the wrong time.

Stella: The weave of the fabric’s obscuring it [print].
Hawkes: Which means it’s still obscuring our killer.

Flack: All right, open it up?
Building Super: Don’t I need a warrant or somethin’?
Flack: Yeah, but you also need a fire extinguisher on every floor.
[Flack flashes his badge]
Super: Now that you put it that way. . . .

Flack: Look, Lindsay, I dunno—I don’t know what to think. But let’s not get ahead of ourselves. Gimme an hour—I’ll find him.

Angell: All these birds are legal imports, of course.
Suspect [unconvincingly]: Yeah, of course.

Angell [to suspect]: Well, as much as we trust you, we’re still gonna need your prints.

Stella: Why don’t you have a seat?
Drunk Suspect: You askin’ or tellin’? ‘Cause I don’t like to be told what to do right now. ‘Specially by some woman.
Angell: She said sit down.

Stella: Your divorce was finalized a week ago—judge who presided over it was just found dead. What would you call that?
Suspect: A happy coincidence.
Angell: Is that s’posed to be funny?
Suspect: Depends—you got a sense of humor?
Angell: Depends—you funny?

Angell: And she [suspect’s ex-wife]’ll verify that?
Suspect: Prob’ly not. But the cops she called on me sure as hell will!

[Danny comes out of bail bonds office]
Flack: Nice place to play hooky. Personally, I woulda gone with the batting cages.
Danny: S’closed for maintenance.
Flack: Ollie Barnes is not worth screwin’ up your career, Danny.
Danny: I don’t give a crap about that cockroach.
Flack: Oh yeah? Then why am I here?!

Flack: You gotta report it, Danny! She stole your gun!
Danny: I can’t do that! Her son is dead.
Flack: So what, you feel guilty?! You owe her somethin’?! Think about it. It’s your gun. What if she uses it?
Danny: Flack, I know! I know, Flack. But would you just think about what she’s goin’ through?

Flack: We split the list. Four hours. We come up empty after—
Danny: Then we’ll call it in. Absolutely.

Hawkes: I’ll give her this. She [suspect]’s smart.
Lindsay: Bludgeoning your own father to death? That’s smart?
Hawkes: Smart in a cold-blooded kinda way. . .she washed away all the evidence.

Flack [leaving a message on Danny’s voicemail]: Danny, where the hell are you?

Lindsay: You think they snuck out, killed Riverton, then snuck back in?
Mac: Movie and a murder. Hell of a double feature.

Danny: Rikki, listen to me. Sweetheart, you don’t wanna do this.

Danny: That’s all I had to do—was stay with him. So if you wanna shoot someone. . . .
[Danny steps between Rikki and Ollie]
Rikki [lowering gun and bursting into tears]: I want him back!

Flack [to Ollie]: Get outta here. Get the hell outta here!

Flack: Danny? Are you takin’ her [Rikki] in or am I?
Danny: She’s not goin’ in!
Flack: You know this has got to be put on paper!
Danny: I’m gonna take her home.
Flack: I’ll be at my desk—give you one hour. After that, I’ll do what I gotta do!

Mac [to perp]: It’s always that one little mistake.

Mac [to perps]: One crime, five victims. Emily Miller and Judge Riverton lost their lives, Madison lost a father, and you two lost your future.

Angell: Thought you were off today.
Flack: Yeah, something came up with Danny. It—
[Flack looks around to see if anyone is listening]
It’s a long story. How ‘bout I tell ya later over an Irish coffee?
Angell: I think I know just the place.

Flack: Messer, hang on a sec.
Danny: What, Don? Whaddya want me to say?
Flack: I called ahead to Arraignment. She’ll be walked through the system, released on her own recognizance—she won’t spend a night in jail!
Danny: You shoulda minded your own business.
Flack: You’re my friend, Danny. Makes it my business. You gotta stop blamin’ yourself for Ruben’s death.
Danny: How? How can I do that?


414, “Playing With Matches”

[Mac, Jess and Danny are standing over burnt victim in a space suit]
Angell: Fire Department was en route to a structure fire on 49th when this thing—
Danny: Thing?
Angell: That’s what they called it! –came flying at them like some kind of flaming meteorite.

Danny: Fire came to the firemen. S’gotta be a first.

Danny: Flimsy ride for a guy who came from another galaxy.

Danny [looking at victim whose only unburnt body part is his face]: To think I ever opposed the helmet law.
Sid: Not so fast—that skullbucket also contributed to what killed him.
Danny: You mean it wasn’t the fact that he was on fire? Or the high-speed impact with a fire truck?

Danny: What? Whoa. Meat thermometer? Who stabs somebody with a meat thermometer?
Sid: Cannibal?

Sid: Now keep in mind I’m simply a pathologist, but the injuries to this victim? Well, frankly, they appear consistent with him re-entering the Earth’s atmosphere. Now, until you come up with some evidence that says otherwise, that’s my story and I’m stickin’ with it.

Flack: Drownin' in a public toilet. Gotta say, that’s pretty low on my list.

Flack: Put it this way: if a dishwasher and a Port-A-Potty were to ever mix it up, this thing would be their offspring.

Sid: First victim I haven’t had to wash in quite some time. Clean as they come!
Stella: Not so clean that you can’t tell me anything?
Sid: Worry not.

Kendall: I think I have something that eclipses your spaceman theory.

Kendall: Sounds like he had quite the identity crisis. Usually, you either run with the knuckle-draggers—makeshift board, skull cap, denim pants—
Lindsay: Steel balls.

Lindsay: You seem pretty into this [street luge].
Kendall: No. Well, I used to be, sort of, but—I bore easily.

Stella: I’m sorry, Mac. I’m not trying to question your results.
Mac: I know. You’re just trying to answer the impossible: how do you kill a woman from a prison cell?

Danny: Boom!

Kendall: We used to call that stretch The Graveyard.
Danny: The hills have names?
Kendall: Like ski slopes. Graveyard is definitely Double Black Diamond.

Danny [to Lindsay]: See anything that would turn a human into a fireball?

Danny [talking on cell]: Messer. Yeah. Aight, I’m listenin’.

Danny: You ever hear of a guy named Mercury?
Female Racer: Yeah, I think that’s him right over there.
Danny: Boom.

[Suspect starts running away from Danny]
Danny: Angell!
[Angell kicks trash can in front of perp, sending him sprawling]
Angell: You luge, you lose.

Suspect: Only one to ever trip the pistol.
Angell: Don’t make me ask!
Suspect: Trip the pistol, you know—the radar gun?

Danny: Why’d you run when I badged you?
Suspect: Street racing is illegal.
[Danny laughs]
Angell: Thanks for the tip. Turn around.
[Angell slaps cuffs on Mercury]

Danny: Either way, this cowgirl might be into smokin’ her competition.
Lindsay: Literally.

Stella: You could, in theory, come across two people with matching DNA.
Mac: Then it’s time to go talk to one of them.

Mac [reading letter in prisoner’s cell]: ‘I like tuna fish.’ I wonder what this is.
Stella: A lot of words with nothin’ to say.

Suspect: She cost me my job.
Flack: Oh, ‘cause she asked you to steal a bottle of port for her, right?

Lindsay [to suspect]: We found accelerant all over it [wheel].
Danny: S’ the same juice that sent Demon to Hell.

Suspect: This sport is my life! The last thing I’m gonna do is screw it up by taking someone else’s.

Flack: There really is a FelonyDate.com?
Mac: It’s an online dating service for felons.
Flack: Is there no justice for law-abiding single men?

Mac [pulling up profile]: Here we go. Vinnie Palgrave, 27, 6 foot 1.
Flack [scoffing]: 6’1’’. The guy’s barely 5’10’’. He’s a crook and a liar.

Stella: Huh. Ketchup went dark. It’s absorbing UV.
Flack: I take it ketchup’s not supposed to do that.

Danny: Because he was out of control and on an unfamiliar course, there was only one thing he could do.
Lindsay: Stop.
Danny: Boom!
[Danny walks out of the room]
Lindsay: Danny?

Perp: You really think I’m gonna kill someone over a city contract?
Flack: Worth close to 5 million dollars? Yeah, I do.

Perp: Is that fair?
Mac: A woman lost her life inside that bathroom because of your reckless abandon and greed. You wanna talk about fair? Go talk to her family.

Flack: No one’s gonna believe the paperwork on this one. ‘Woman dies tryin’ to spring one dirtbag from prison’—
Mac: ‘Instead, puts another one in.’

Mac: He [prisoner] doesn’t have to say anything. I’ll do all the talking.

415, “DOA For A Day”

Mac [to fellow officers]: During our last pursuit, I saw her [Suspect X] cut down an unarmed civilian in the blink of an eye—so she will not think twice about putting a bullet in you.

Flack [looking at “Suspect X” with a knife in the back of her head]: Man, that’s brutal.

Mac [to Adam]: Maybe whatever was on these laptops was somethin’ to die for.

Stella: You okay? What’re you thinkin’?
Mac: This woman was a skilled and trained assassin. Whoever did this. . .had to be better.
Stella: Who kills a professional killer?

Mac: This is a Navy SEAL combat knife.
Sid: Now if only there was a game show that called for that kind of knowledge, you’d be able to retire early.
Mac: I’d miss your wit.

Mac: Aged, linear bruising—looks like she was bound for an extended period of time.
Sid: I was getting’ to that, Mac—you’re stealin’ my thunder.

Mac: How are you at reverse engineering?
Sid: I don’t like the sound of this.

Danny: Hey, Linds.
[Danny hands samples to Lindsay]
Lindsay: Oh, Danny! They’re beautiful! Nothing says ‘you’re special’ like centrifuge tubes filled with DNA samples.
Danny: I’m not gonna live this down, am I?
Lindsay: Forgetting my birthday? Probably not.

Danny: Lindsay. C’mon! Guys, we’re not wired for rememberin’ dates, okay? We remember sports stats and then steak sides—that’s our thing, all right?
Lindsay: Steak sides? You are so busted.

Danny: Boom.

Danny [to Lindsay]: All right, while you do that, I will run the blood from the knife and see if Bambi is infected with Lyme Disease.

Mac: And an answer to the question: who is capable of killing a professional killer?
Stella: A Navy SEAL with a killer motive.

Suspect: That’s the last time I saw it [knife].
Flack: Well, it just turned up. Stuck in the back of a dead woman’s skull.

Suspect: You’re disappointed, Detective. I can see it in your eyes. You expected a big, strong killing machine—what you get is half a soldier.
Mac: What I see is motive.

Suspect: Don’t you date pity me.
Flack: It ain’t pity, Russ. I’m just tryin’ to figure out if you coulda done it.
Suspect: What? Because of these? [Indicates his replacement legs] Twenty different ways, Detective. Trust me.

Danny: She dies, her homicide cases die too. Suddenly she’s free.
Mac: Free to kill again.

Flack: You two know each other?
Mac: We met last year. Charity event at Gracie Mansion.
Flack: Gracie Mansion, huh?
Mac: Couple months after we met, her estranged husband began stalking her, she put in a special request to the Chief.
Flack: And you took care of it.
Mac: Yeah.
Flack: You know I’ve never had an old lady ask me to help her across the street?

Jordan: Crime lab back in one piece?
Mac: I don’t know what strings you pulled, but it seemed to happen overnight.
Jordan: Well, I figured I owed you one. The Mayor, however—he didn’t see it the same way. He said the next time you wanna blow up your crime lab it’s gonna come out of your paycheck.

[Danny and Flack make their way through the throngs at Club Random]
Flack: What does this place remind you of?
Danny: I have no idea.
Flack: Star Wars cantina.
Danny: Right, right—the bar Luke went to on Mos Eisley. Ab-solutely.

Bartender: How can I help you, officers?
Flack: How d’you know this isn’t a costume?
Bartender: Gimme a break, man.

Flack: Danny! She’s watchin’ us.

[Flack admires Angell as she prepares for a raid]
Angell: What?
Flack: You look good in a vest.

Flack: Bring anything else?
Lindsay [holding up warrant]: All-access pass.

[Cat walks by Danny and Lindsay as they move on plastic surgeon’s suspected hangout]
Lindsay: So much for sterile conditions.

Lindsay: Danny, she’s watching us.
Danny [disconnecting camera sticking out of vic’s eye]: Not anymore.

Adam: Mac!
Mac: Don’t tell me, Adam—you broke the case.
Adam: All I can say is, remember today when I put in for a raise.

Adam [regarding Suspect X’s method of finding clients]: It’s brilliant!
[Mac gives Adam a look]
And it’s evil. Really evil.

Mac: Tell me you got something.
Adam: Big time! I did what you said and opened up a bunch of untraceable email accounts in various profiles—in one of them, I am this smokin’ hot 22 year old who’s having a little flingy-thing with this middle-aged married guy, and basically I want the wife out—
Mac: Adam.
Adam: Yeah? Right, oh.

Mac [over intercom]: Uni? Who the hell is that? Where’d he come from?

Mac: Who are you?
Suspect X: Anyone you want me to be, Detective. Lover, friend, fantasy, nightmare. Take your pick.
Mac: Based on the amount of blood leaving your body from that hole I put in your chest, I’ll go with dead.
Suspect X: That’s not on the list.

416, “Right Next Door”

Mac: Stella, that’s three nights in a row you’ve worked overtime. You’re runnin’ on fumes! Go home.
Stella: I’m fine, Mac.
Mac: Clearly, this is an accident—there’s no reason for both of us to be here.
Flack: Which means I’m gonna wind up doin’ all the work anyway. Twenty minutes from now he’s gonna be on the train home as well.
Mac [to Stella]: Get outta here.

Mac: So, I got an extra room.
Stella: Thank you, Mac. I think I’m better off staying in a hotel. I snore.

Flack [to Mac]: I see doubt.

Danny [answering phone]: Messer.
Lindsay: Hey, it’s me.
Danny: How’s Stella doin’? She okay?
Lindsay: She’ll be all right.
Danny: Yeah, well, you tell her if she needs anything—I mean anything—I’m there.
Lindsay: I’ll tell her. So listen, I was thinking before your shift maybe we could have lunch? My turn to buy?
Danny Actually, I gotta run to the bank, I gotta run to the dry cleaners, bring my bike to the shop—I’m gonna get it fixed.
Lindsay: Is everything okay? What’s wrong?
Danny: Whaddya talkin’ about, ‘what’s wrong’? Nothin’s wrong. I just got some stuff to do, and I’ll see you at work, all right? Bye.

Rikki: Maybe I should take a rain check on Messer’s famous omelet. Sounds like you have a busy day.
Danny: No, no, no—this is somethin’ you don’t wanna pass up. This omelet is a masterpiece. I’m makin’ one for myself, makin’ two is like nothin’.
Rikki: Danny—
Danny: It’s just a breakfast. It’s just breakfast, Rikki.
Rikki: And last night was just sex. Before my son died, you were just a guy I smiled at in the hallway. And joked with at the mailboxes. What are we doing?
Danny: Makin’ each other feel better. Because Ruben’s gone. There’s nothin’ wrong with that.
[Danny kisses Rikki]
Rikki: Danny. One day you’re gonna wake up and realize that Ruben’s death wasn’t your fault. Yes, he was with you when he was shot. But it was an accident. And me? Can’t you see I’m just taking advantage of the guilt you feel so I don’t have to be alone?
Danny: I don’t care. I don’t care, ‘cause I just want this hurt to go away. Don’t you?
[Rikki and Danny kiss again]
Rikki: I really should go.
Danny: Okay, okay. But this is my shirt. I’m gonna need my shirt back. Okay? Before you go.
[Danny starts to unbutton Rikki’s shirt; the two begin kissing]

Hawkes: Then who is she? And more importantly, where is he?

Mac: Lindsay, catch Danny up. Priority is the identity of our female victim. I want to know who she is and what’s her connection to our arsonist Sean Nolan. May help us find him. The fire may have been a cover-up for murder.
Lindsay: Why don’t you catch up by reading this?
[Lindsay shoves tablet into Danny’s hands, storms off in a huff]

Adam: Maybe it’s from a friend?
Stella: Oh, and this friend wrote me a note that says ‘Help me’?
Adam: Maybe you’re a bad cook. [Laughs.] I’m just sayin’.
Stella: Um, since I shot my boyfriend two years ago I don’t exactly have people over.

Adam: Oh, and Stella? Um—I’m glad you’re okay.
Stella: Thanks, Adam.
[Stella walks out of the room; Adam raises his eyebrows]

[Hawkes brings goldfish bowl into room]
Hawkes: What do you see?
Danny: Goldfish?

Hawkes [to Danny]: It’s murder. It doesn’t have to make sense.

Hawkes: That was Flack. He’s got our arsonist Sean Nolan in custody.
Danny: Boom!

Flack: A woman burned to death in your apartment.
Suspect: Her name is Marla Bronson. She was taking care of my fish.
Flack: And killing her is your way of saying thanks?
Suspect: I’ll say it again. I have been in Boston for the past week attending an insurance convention!
Flack: Takes a second to strike a match. And less than an hour to get back to Boston by plane. Is that the story? Did I figure it out? Ya look a little nervous.

Flack: Your neighbors don’t have anywhere to live, Sean! Some of ‘em lost everything they own. Did you watch from across the street? Did the fire excite you? Maybe you were down the block in a high-rise watching the plumes of black smoke.

Flack: One of your neighbors? Someone I care a lot about. She no longer has a place to live. And she risked her life pulling a boy out of that building. And when I prove you did this, you will answer to me.

Hawkes: But Sid, nobody dies from broken thumbs.

Mac: So, if the fire didn’t start in Sean Nolan’s apartment, where did it start?
Lindsay: I don’t know.
Mac: Well, let’s find out.

Stella: She was within my reach, Mac! Right there!

Mac: Bonnie ever talk about her family?
Stella: She never mentioned a sister until last night, and clearly that was a lie. To tell you the truth, I don’t even know if Bonnie Dillard’s her real name.

Danny: I’m gonna get some coffee. You want some coffee?
Lindsay: No. Thanks.
Danny: How long you gonna stay mad at me, Linds?
Lindsay: Oh, is that what this is? Me mad at you?
Danny: Is this still about missin’ your birthday? Look, I didn’t wanna go to lunch yesterday. Why do you gotta make such a big deal out of it?
Lindsay: Do me a favor, Danny. Don’t reduce me to some shallow, clingy girlfriend who’s gonna suffocate you, okay? That’s not what this is about. Ever since Ruben Sandoval died, you’ve—I feel like I’ve lost my best friend. And don’t mistake this for jealousy, okay? I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. To see them one day and then not see them the next and to know you’re never gonna see them again? I would never expect you not to grieve. But clearly, you’ve just decided to do it all on your own.
[Danny remains silent]
Okay. I get it. My mistake for thinking you might need somebody to lean on. And you know, for the record, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. Because I’ve fallen in love with you and I have to figure out how to let that go.

Stella: What?
Mac: For the last two days I’ve been tryin’ to figure out how to gingerly tell you to sit this one out—go deal with the loss of your home, take care of yourself. I realize now what a total waste of my breath that would’ve been.

Mac: Or maybe, with a little encouragement from us, they [insurance company] can do it sooner.
Hawkes: Ooh, my man’s gettin’ sneaky.

Mac: It’s always the greed that gets ‘em.

Danny: Bonnie? Hey, how ya doin’?
Bonnie: Do I know you?
Danny: Uh, no! Not yet.
[Danny flashes his badge, Bonnie runs]

Bonnie: I believe I have the right to remain silent.

Flack: She’s not your niece, Bonnie! You took this little girl from her family and they want her back!

Flack: Bonnie. Don’t take this little girl from her family.

Mac: Stella? Is Bonnie Dillard capable of murder?
Stella: If you’d asked me a week ago if I thought she could abduct a child, I would’ve said no.
Mac: And now?
Stella: I think she’s capable of anything.

Danny: Lindsay. I’m sorry. We should talk.
Lindsay [responding to computer hit]: We got a rooftop location!

Stella [stepping into elevator]: Can I catch up with you later?
Adam [grabs elevator doors]: No! You need to know this, all right? I’m not playin’ around!
Stella: All right, you got 15 seconds.

Stella: What’d your first mom call you?
"Jason": Austin Tanner.
Stella: I like that name.
Austin: Me too.

417, “Like Water For Murder”

Hawkes: Who found her?
Flack [gesturing to witnesses]: The Abercrombie twins over there.

Flack: What kinda shark strangles his meal before he takes a bite?

Mac: What’re you doin’ here, Quinn? Jersey crime lab too boring for you?

Quinn: Don’t worry, Mac. I’ll stay out of the way and quietly observe.
Mac: Hah!
Quinn: What’s so funny?
Mac: I’ve never known you to do anything quietly—and stayin’ out of the way? It’s not your style.

Sid: And then there’s the poor shark. Well, if you see it from his point of view, he’s noshing on the finest prime rib he’s had in months and dies of food poisoning?! I mean, there’s a chance she killed him!

[Stella notices Quinn looking over her shoulder as she peers into the microscope]
Stella: Wanna take a look at the vic’s stomach contents?
Quinn: Most people don’t usually invite me to participate in the process.
Stella: Most people are intimidated by your job.
Quinn: Mac tell you to do this? Just like him to throw a curveball.
Stella: No, he didn’t. I just thought you might wanna see what I was looking at.

Quinn: The crystals look like cocoa butter seeds caused by when chocolate is agitated. Helps to refine high-end chocolate.
Stella: I didn’t realize you could major in chocolate forensics.
Quinn: Hm! Wouldn’t that be great?

Quinn: Any psychoactive properties?
Stella: Let’s see. Damiana can be smoked, producing effects similar to cannabis sativa, it’s used in herbal tea to promote lucid dreaming and it’s. . .added to tequila to enhance lovemaking!
Quinn: I am all for a good margarita—
Stella: I’m with you on that!
Quinn: --however, this sounds more like a drug.

Danny: Sharks’ll eat anything, huh?
Lindsay: Yes, they will. [Switches to gravelly voice] ‘A shark’ll swallow ya whole.’
Danny: Not too good on the accent. ‘Ten thousand dollars’ll get ya me by myself, for that you get the—
Lindsay and Danny together: ‘Head. Tail. Ya get the whole damn thing.’
Lindsay: That’s such a good movie.
Danny: Yeah. We should rent it.
Lindsay: This is hard.
[Lindsay leaves the room]

Mac: So, she was wrapped in the tarp, shark ate it, ingested the toxin and died.
Hawkes: Okay, so that’s what killed Jaws, but that’s not a poison that makes the blood turn bright red.

Flack: Two bodies within twenty-four hours doesn’t play like a coincidence.
Mac: No, it doesn’t.

Mac: Don’t you wanna get your facts straight before you sensationalize a story?
Reed: I thought that’s what I was doing.

Mac: Reed. You gotta understand something. This is psychological. You yell ‘murder’ in this city and people don’t even blink. A serial killer? We got a panic on our hands.
Reed: I get it, I do. I’m sorry.
Mac: You remind me of your mother. When Claire wanted something she went after it, wouldn’t let go until she got it. But if you want the facts, you’re gonna have to wait for the science like the rest of us. I have somethin’ solid, you’ll be my first call.
Reed: I have your word?
Mac: Yeah.
Reed: Okay.

Quinn: They [lacerations] were inflicted post-mortem.
Sid: It’s often said that we don’t get enough guests down here in Autopsy. Although, there’s been quite a few people by to see the shark. I’ve still got it on ice if you--
Mac: Sid, Dr. Shelby is here to document the chain of evidence.
Quinn: Thanks Doctor, maybe later.
Sid: All right, then let me try to impress you in some other fashion.

Quinn: I’d say you’ve got a tough job ahead of you, Mac. You’re hunting a landshark.
Sid: She’s good.

Mac: There must be a hundred buildings in the city being fumigated right now.
Danny: Two hundred and thirty-five, to be exact.

Flack: It’s freezing in here!
Stella: Chocolate melts at blood temperature. The cold keeps their [models] clothes on.
Flack: Very good to know.

Flack: He [Mac] doesn’t mind her [Quinn] lookin’ over his shoulder?
Stella: Actually, it’s weird. He seems to be fine with it.
Flack: She pretty? This inspector?
[Stella gives Flack a look]
Just sayin’.

Flack [to model]: Hey, Project Runway! Who did your dress?

Charles [offering a chocolate]: Do you care to blow your mind?
Stella [holding up photos of vics]: Care to blow yours?

Charles: You sure you don’t want a sample?
Stella: Hmph. I was taught never to take candy from strangers.

Stella [to Flack, about chocolate]: Does it blow your mind?

Quinn: You’ve got a great team, Mac.
Mac: But? Nothing’s ever perfect with you, Quinn.
Quinn: Well, Detectives Messer and Monroe. They’re obviously a little more than just co-workers.
Mac: I don’t get involved in my team’s personal lives.
Quinn: Mac, I’m just giving you a heads-up. As a result of what was obviously a personal exchange between Monroe and Messer, Monroe got distracted and left her evidence out. Unattended. We can all try and compartmentalize, but nobody can help the fact that sometimes life gets in the way—and when things get messy, mistakes are made. And I believe I’m quoting you on that one.
Mac: Point taken.

Lindsay: Pop quiz: What do carbon monoxide and phosphorescents have in common?
Mac: I suspect you’re gonna tell me.
Lindsay: I’m gonna do you one better. I’ll show you.
[Lindsay climbs into car trunk]
Shut it.
[Mac gives Lindsay a weird look]
It’s okay!

Lindsay: Good thing she [victim] held onto the evidence.
Mac: Which I hear you may have left unattended.
Lindsay: What?
Mac: You were in the lab with Danny. Inspector Shelby.
Lindsay: Oh, but Danny was right there. I mean, I’m sure that he put it away.
[Mac gives Lindsay a stern look]
Oh, that’s a bad excuse, Mac. I’m sorry, I know it’s my responsibility. I know we’re talking about evidence that could convict somebody of murder—
Mac: Lindsay. To tell you the truth, I’m more concerned about you.
Lindsay: I’m okay, Mac.
Mac: You put up a good front, but whatever is or is not going on between you and Danny, you cannot let it affect your job.
Lindsay: I should never have gotten involved with somebody I work with. It was stupid. Really stupid.

Hawkes: This paper that Sid recovered from the vic’s nails has letters on it. And I think this one says ‘Rights’ or ‘Writs’ maybe.
Danny: Maybe’s no good. You gotta be exact, ok? ‘Cause we’re under observation.
[Quinn walks by]
Hawkes: Come on, man. She’s cool.
Danny: I know, I know. I just feel like I’m in detention or somethin’, y’know? I think this one might say ‘obey.’
Hawkes: I was never good at ‘Wheel of Fortune.’
Danny: It’s really easy, Doc. You just gotta keep buyin’ vowels.

Mac: Look, you shouldn’t have promised something you couldn’t deliver.
Reed: This is my career we’re talkin’ about!
Mac: Reed. Your expectations of our relationship do not and will never dictate when or with whom I reveal evidence in a murder case. Is that clear?!
Reed: Yes.

Mac: I wanna know what the killer’s tryin’ to say.

[Suspect escapes Flack’s grasp, but Stella kicks him in the stomach and knocks him into a bin of cocoa powder]
Stella: How’s that for a sample, huh?
Flack: Let’s go.

Suspect: I looked an apartment, eh? So what?
Flack: Ya lied to us! That’s what!

Suspect: She was sending me mixed signals, is what she was doing.
Stella [sarcastically]: Yeah, I bet.

Mac: Is that it, you’re done? Don’t these things usually take at least a week?
Quinn: Is that an invitation for me to stay?
Mac: You were always good at that.
Quinn: What?
Mac: Flirting.
Quinn: I can’t help it. I still have a thing for you. Why didn’t you ever call me?
Mac: Quinn. I was married.
Quinn: It was just a kiss, Mac. I know. A moment of weakness.
Mac: It was a mistake. I loved my wife.
Quinn: Don’t I know it. Everyday I worked alongside you you never let me forget that.
Mac: It wasn’t my intention to make things difficult.
Quinn: You know, I have thought about this moment so many times—about what I would say to you when I finally got the chance. And here I am, and all I keep thinking is, ‘does he ever wonder—what if?’

Mac: Quinn, no matter how good they are, some memories need to be forgotten.
Quinn: I get it.

Hawkes: How could someone kill three people and not leave a piece of themselves behind?

Hawkes: None of this makes sense.
Mac: We’re dealing with a psychopath. A predator who takes what he wants and doesn’t need a reason for doing it. We may never know why. Our job is to find out the who.
Stella: So we go back to the evidence.

Mac: I want every cab checked. Background checks on the drivers and I want their trip logs.
Flack: Mac, there are eleven thousand cabs in this city.
Mac: The killer’s a cab driver. Any New Yorker could be his next victim.

418, “Admissions”

Mac and Stella, in unison: Who discovered the body?
Flack: You two been workin’ together way too long.
[Stella scoffs]
A student came in lookin’ for her keys, and boom.
Mac: Boom? You and Danny have been workin’ together way too long.

Mac [looking at gym full of high school kids]: Behold, the future.
Stella: Yeah. Future suspects, Mac.

Hawkes: Phosphoric acid, sulfuric acid, hydrochloric acid—he couldn’t have kept the keys in the English room?

Danny: Why would you keep somethin’ that dangerous in a high school lab?
Hawkes: To demonstrate its ability to dissolve glass. It’s commonly used in glass etching.
[Hawkes walks to white board]
Silicon dioxide plus four molecules of hydrofluoric acid? Produces—
Danny: Ooh, me, me, me! Pick me!
[Hawkes hands Danny the pen, Danny scribbles something]
Hawkes: That’s cold, man.
[Danny steps back from the board to reveal that he’s written N(e)R(d)! as the answer to the equation]

Stella: Mind if I borrow that [phone?]
Rich female kid: Sure. I have another one at home.
Stella: Of course you do.

Rich male kid: Mr. Greggs was an inspiring mentor—the kind of man I’d like to be in twenty years. Only making fifty times more money. It’s sad when such a young life is taken—
Flack: Stop. Just stop.

Stella: If the students didn’t see anything, maybe their cell phones did.

Mac [on the phone]: No, everyone else’s priorities need to be checked—not mine! Yeah, yeah, I get it.

Flack: Hey, uh, what about the tarps he wraps the vics in? Any leads on that yet?
Mac: You’re gonna start ridin’ my ass now too?
[Flack grins and walks away]

Sid: Do you have any idea how often I’ve wondered what would happen if you swallowed this stuff? There it is sittin’ on the shelf, perhaps the most corrosive acid known to man, you just get that urge to take a swig, you know what I’m talkin’ about?
Mac: Absolutely. It’s like whenever I pick up a scalpel I wonder if I could perform a live autopsy on myself.
Sid: You do that too? ‘Cause I thought I was—don’t play with me like that.

Sid: As you can see, your victim ingested more than the recommended dose of zero cc’s of hydrofluoric acid.

Sid: Now, the periodic table got the best of him, but your vic also took a pretty severe beating.

Adam [looking at robbery footage]: Unh! I want some Skittles, gimme a pack of menthols, and, uh. . .them Ho-Hos over there! Ooh, I love me some Ho-Hos! And I want all your money!—
Stella: Adam?
Adam: Oh, yes, uh, hi! Stell—uh, yeah.
Stella: You familiar with PhotoSynth?
Adam: PhotoSynth. Yeah. It’s taking a large collection of photos, analyzing the similarities and displaying them in a reconstructed three-dimensional space.
Stella: Exactly. [Hands box to Adam] Build me a high school gym.
Adam: Okay. [Opens box to find cell phones] What up?!

Hawkes: Are you serious? This is peyote.
Danny: Marijuana seeds, shrooms—
Hawkes: Looks like someone was growin’ their own magic garden.
Danny: Right under the faculty’s nose, man.
Hawkes: Sometimes too much education can be a dangerous thing.

Female suspect [regarding male suspect]: What a jackass.

Mac: Seems our guidance counselor was a bit misguided.

Flack [regarding Laundromat]: What the hell are we doin’ here? Vic made extra cash fluffing and folding?

Mac [looking at busy hidden casino]: We’re gonna need some backup.

Suspect [to Mac]: Hundred bucks says you’re the good cop, he [Flack]’s the bad cop.
Mac: Where’d you get the watch?
Suspect: It was a gift. Whadda you care?
Mac: It belongs to a dead man.
Suspect: You got that right.
Flack: Some DAs might consider that a confession.

Flack: So 18 [grand] in the hole gets ya a face full of acid, huh?

Mac [to suspect]: Now I’m gonna talk to all these people over here. If they don’t confirm that you were here last night—all night—the only dice you’re gonna roll is with a jury, ya hear me?

Mac: Who do they [keys] belong to?
Hawkes: You’re not gonna like the answer to that.

Gerrard: Whaddya mean, don’t get worked up?! My daughter’s in the box! You’re tellin’ me you have evidence that links her to a murder! I think I gotta right to be worked up!

Gerrard: I wanna be in there.
Mac: I don’t think that’s a good idea.
Gerrard: I don’t give a damn what you think!
Mac: Calm down for a second!

Gerrard: Don’t say another word, Natalie. This interview is over.

Suspect: How do you know that’s me?
Flack: It’s Microsoft’s world, kid. I’m just livin’ in it.

Adam [looking at robbery footage]: I will get you! Yes! You will be mine!
Mac [hitting Adam with case file]: Adam.

Adam: What’re we lookin’ for?
Mac: Not what. Who.
Adam: Okay. Who’re we lookin’ for?
Mac: Someone who might not be there.
Adam: Is this some sort of Abbott and Costello routine? ‘Cause if it is, I got dibs on Costello.

Natalie: I never should have said anything.
Lindsay: Yes, Natalie—you should have.

Lindsay: I think I’m gonna be sick.

Flack: Put your hands behind your back! Now!

Stella: There’s a special place in Hell for guys like you, Frank.
Perp: I’ve always wanted to travel someplace warm.

Perp: Hell, if I’d given a crap when I was actually in high school, I coulda gone on to be the successful lawyer type.
Lindsay: Well, instead you went on to become the successful scumbag/rapist type.
Perp: To-may-to, to-mah-to.

Mac: You can exercise all the rights you want, but you’re never gonna see the light of day again.

Flack: I been on the job a long time, and I never seen anything like this.

Mac: I’ll tell ya, his lack of remorse is chilling. He doesn’t even seem remotely sorry.
Flack: Yeah, your brain’s gotta be all kinds of screwed up to concoct somethin’ like that.