The Mentalist Season 3 Episode 10

Lisbon: LaRoche is looking for you.
Jane: Well, tell him I wish him luck.

LaRoche: You read the evidence report.
Jane: Oh, more like skimmed it. You know those things are not exactly summer reading, but I get paid to consult, so skim I do.

Lisbon: I'm sorry. Is there a problem?

LaRoche: Yes. Jane is the lead suspect in my investigation and I can't find him.

Lisbon: Jane's your lead suspect.

LaRoche: You smile. You think he's not capable of murder?

Lisbon: He's capable. I'm smiling because it's an absurd idea, Jane killing Johnson. He caught him. He put him in that cell.

LaRoche: He was the last person to see him alive in that cell.

Lisbon: And I was next to last.

LaRoche: So you're working undercover?

Jane: Which you just blew for me. Thank you very much.

LaRoche: Well, I doubt that. Up to the moment you left, you had them transfixed. What's that like... such power over people?

Jane: You tell me. I expect this Robocop routine of yours normally works quite effectively?

LaRoche: Normally. But you seem immune, so I may have to step up my efforts.

LaRoche: Agent Lisbon states that before Todd Johnson was set on fire, he indicated that he had a secret he wanted to tell you, and you alone.

Jane: We all have secrets. Most of them are quite unremarkable once revealed. What's your secret, Mr. Laroosh?

LaRoche: LaRoche.

Jane: Pardon me.

LaRoche: I have no secrets.

Jane: The good doctor here thinks you're an angel.

Lailah: I am an angel.

Jane: Yeah. An angel of death. You know, I had a hunch soon as I found out about your pants. (Lailah stares) Pardon me. Your parents.

Jane: Chance has thrust our way a very sordid and vexing problem. But have no fear.

Van Pelt: We don't.

Lisbon: I do. What's your plan?

Lisbon: Are you all right?

Jane: (drunk) Oh, yeah. I'm fine. I'm still home. Would you take me drunk?

Jane: I sense a Christmas speech coming on.

Lisbon: No. I just think people can celebrate a holy day without lying to children about a magical fat guy with a sack full of toys.

Jane: So you took the whole Santa revelation badly, huh?

Lisbon: Crushed my heart like a cigarette.

Jane: Explains why you're still looking for magic in your life.

Lisbon: (reading from a Christmas card that was found on the victim.) "My life is a lie, forgive me".

Jane: Well, it's not a traditional Christmas greeting, but it has punch and concision. Very, uh, thoughtful of him to put it in a plastic baggie for us.

Lisbon: Lets us out. It's a straight-up suicide.

Jane: Possibly.

Lisbon: Hey, Jane? Could I trouble you for a professional opinion?

Jane: (sniffing the body of the victim.) No.

Lisbon: No what?

Jane: This isn't the actual Santa Claus.

Lisbon: Oh, really?

Jane: Some say he doesn't exist, period. That he's a 19th century marketing gimmick. I venture no opinion on that, but this definitely isn't him. This is an impostor.

Lisbon: And how can you tell?

Jane: Santa would smell like reindeer and chimneys. This man smells like cheap whiskey.