Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

That's not how I conduct business. You will have to ask a friend.

Is that my dad?

Well, people believe some pretty strange things these days.

Clients hire me to find dirt.

Only wish I could have been there.

I want to meet Madeleine Albright.

It's for a case.

I'm a private investigator.

Lot of booze for such a small woman.

I put it through payroll. It takes a few days. You know that.

But I lost my mind or something. I told them to leave.

[indistinct conversations]

- Be good, Roy. - Why start now, huh?

[charger clatters]

I don't know, a lunch, a dinner? I can't read his handwriting.

Thank you so much, I'll call you back.

- I stole it. - I figured.

and have kept your methods confidential.

The poor, brain-damaged dancer. And?

- Took her? - He... escaped.

And now one month from the day he took Hope,

Alias Investigations.

- Thanks, Zack. - Yeah. Nice.

- I don't want to hurt you. - I can't leave.

[woman] Uh-huh.

you put all my laundry...

and I don't know where or when.

Oh. Excuse me, you wouldn't be Jessica Jones?

[chuckles softly]

It's okay. It's okay, I won't break.

Well, there's a box of her leftover junk in my closet.

[man] That bitch! She's sleeping with my brother?