L.A. Noire Walkthrough:

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Richard: Not another step. I have got a Buick Century sedan that would be absolutely perfect for you.

Cole: Detective Phelps, LAPD. Are you the owner?

Richard: That's right, Richard Coombs, at your service. You looking to trade in a black and white, boys?

Cole: Mr. Coombs, we're investigating an auto theft. A man by the name of Cliff Harrison claims he bought the car here.

Richard: Well, some people would say that my cars are a steal. That's a joke, son.

Cole: Very amusing, Mr. Coombs.

Richard: I remember Harrison. It was a green, two-tone Kaiser-Frazer, if I remember rightly.

Cole: Do you have the bill of sale?

Richard: It's in my office. Walk this way. That's a joke too, son.

Stefan: Phelps, do you mind if I shoot this guy? He's getting on my nerves.

Richard: Here it is. Got the original pink slip there, too.

Cole: Jean Archer, 146 North Fremont Avenue. Harrison's purchase receipt was legit, at least. We have a couple of questions.

Richard: All right, fellas, shoot.

Cole: Can you tell us how you came to buy the car?

Richard: Girl just wandered in right off the street.

Cole: Nothing unusual about the car?

Richard: Not really my usual type of vehicle. The price was certainly right, though. Nice girl, but about as sharp as a bag of wet mice.

Cole: Did you pay with check or cash?

Richard: A check. She wanted it made out to cash, but I insisted. A man has to watch his cash flow.

Cole: What name?

Richard: I made it out to Jean Archer on the Bank of Arcadia.

Cole: Can you describe this Jean Archer?

Richard: Brunette, maybe 25, 26. A little on the plump side, but not bone ugly.

Cole: What was your impression of her?

Richard: Kind of harried and harassed. In a hurry to go somewhere, but no place to go. You get to know the type.

Cole: Do you know anything about the company that prints these pink slips?

Richard: Nope, should I? It isn't exactly my business.

Cole: It says Marquee Printing. You've never heard of them?

Richard: Marquee? Sure, they do all the government red tape. You'll find the place down on Aliso Street, near San Pedro.

Cole: When exactly did you hand over the check, Mr. Coombs?

Richard: Close of play on Friday.

Cole: Why didn't you pay her cash? You knew the car was dirty.

Richard: I had an inkling. When people are in a hurry for money, always pay by check, son. Gives you a couple of days to back out.

Cole: This was all above board?

Richard: Yes, of course it was.

Cole: Did this look legitimate to you, Coombs?

Richard: I'm in used cars, son, not bearer bonds. In my business, you don't look a gift horse in the mouth. Now don't come on all high and mighty with me if you want my help.

Cole: Thanks for your help, Mr. Coombs. We need to continue the investigation.

Richard: Hope you sort out your problem with Mr. Harrison. Go easy on him, son, boy's about as sharp as a bowling ball. He's built too low, the fast balls fly over his head.

Stefan: Let me shoot this guy. Please?

Cole: You have a pleasant day, Mr. Coombs.

Stefan: Well, Harrison might be off the hook, but we could still run an APB on Jean Archer. Get on the horn and call it in.

Cole: Cole Phelps, badge 1247.

Dispatcher: How can I help, detective?

Pedestrian: I think his name is Phelps, I read about him in the paper.

Cole: Requesting an APB on Jean Archer, age approximately 25, on suspicion of grand theft auto.

Dispatcher: I'll relay the information.

Cole: Any messages?

Dispatcher: A James Belasco is being held at Central Station on suspicion of GTA. Possible link to the Harrison case. They're waiting on you to conduct the interview.

Cole: Thank you. You can drive.

Stefan: Where are we going? Here's a chicken and egg question for you. Do you think you have to be an asshole to sell cars, or that selling cars turns you into an asshole?

Cole: You've got it in for everyone today, haven't you?

Stefan: I've always got it in for car salesmen, doesn't matter what day it is. And why do they always think they're comedians when they're about as funny as a heart attack?

Cole: Maybe the more annoying they are, the quicker you sign on the dotted line just to get the hell out of there.