The Justice Dudes clamber into their oh-so-inconspicuous van and pop in the tape Yawn surrendered. It's a flute. One dude says, "That's Solti, Sultan of the Moroccan pan flute." Um, everyone knows that ZANFIR is the master of the pan flute. Who the hell is Solti, giving himself a title? What? He's made up? Fake, you say? Well, then I'll shut up. Now the Justice Dudes have to go find Yawn.

The Chocolate Love Trenchcoat Dudes walk up to a red 1970s pimpmobile parked in a suburban yard. Scotty feels around underneath the thing and finds the hidden compartment, which is holding a lighter from Slim's Steakhouse. They set off on foot, with Scotty musing that the bus stop is over there. "That transfer is good for twenty minutes, homes." Hee.

A plate of food is set in front of Yawn. He doesn't touch it. A wiseguy barks, "Wassa matta, you don't like the roasted pine nut pilaf? We'll get you some stir-fried veggies. Hey, stir-fry the kid!" Lawyer Ghost says to say he just had a Polish sausage an hour ago at Roma's. "You go to Roma's? The best. Where'd you stay in Reno?" LG says to says Harrah's. Yawn does. Really? Ricky always used to stay in the Paradise. They stare at Yawn, chewing thoughtfully. Then, "Justice Department, nobody move!" Yawn is relieved. LG says, whoo, that was close. "Told you I'd get you out of this." Then he poofs. Then Justice Dude and Wiseguy hug. "I love that bit! Let me play you this tape, our little friend from the FBI is on it." Yawn trembles, and the opera swells.

The Justice Dude takes Yawn downstairs, since the Wiseguy's doctor says he has to wait for twenty minutes after he eats to kill someone. Justice Guy says, "Relax, it'll all be over soon."

Outside the steakhouse, the Chocolate Trenchcoat Duo lingers coolly. TNT goes in to check it out.

Drain, wearing a hockey jersey, is holding a demonstration at the Parkway bar. An organ chugs along cheerfully. Did you know that right-handed and left-handed sticks curve in different directions? This fact, overlooked for so many years, is at the heart of the misunderstanding that led Dizzy Corsky to be thought a bum when he actually was a prince. Jane, with the help of Pops, re-enacts the scene of Game 6 in '68. "It's a Toronto power play!" A bastard is hammered into the board, and through broken teeth (which Drain scatters onto the "ice") and a split lip, Dizzy's stick is shattered. Pops tosses him the first one he grabs, but it's the wrong one -- his "fatal mistake." When the puck hits the stick it bounces off the curve, and goes right into the Chieftains' own net. And then, I guess, Dizzy died, and no one ever noticed this detail, and for the last 31 years, Dizzy was disgraced. Come on, hockey fans live for this shit! The crowd at the bar is awed, and humbled. They apologize to the ghost of Dizzy and ask for forgiveness. Dizzy, happy at last, poofs.