Frasier: You know, Niles, we could open it up to the general public.
Niles: That's not a bad idea. A warm bed.
Frasier: A freshly-baked scone.
Niles: For a moderate fee...
Frasier: It could pay for itself.
Niles: As a B & B!
Daphne: If you two break into song, I'm leaving.

Daphne: I used to have the same problem when I was raising show rats.
Niles: You don't mean the nasty, plague-propagating vermin, do you?
Daphne: No. I mean purebred rats. As in Siamese or Himalayan or Husky. My most prized one was an Andalusian Blue named Lady Prissy and she wasn't sick a day in her life. So don't go blaming all rats because of a few bad apples.
Frasier: A few bad apples? Daphne, they spread a disease that nearly wiped out half the population of Europe.
Daphne: Shows what you know. Those were common European brown rats.
Frasier: Yes, but the point is-
Daphne: Oh, no, no, no. I'll sit here and listen to you prattle on about wine and opera. But when it comes to rats, you're in my house.

Martin: Oh boy, this brings back memories.
Frasier: Oh Niles, do you remember doing our homework up here at the dining room table?
Niles: Oh yes, and afternoon piano lessons.
Martin: Getting haircuts from your mother.
Frasier: And Mom's roll-top desk on this wall over here.
Niles: Where we wrote all the "Crane Boys Mysteries." I can still see you pacing in your writer's tweeds and half-glasses, dictating.
Frasier: And you in your shawl-collar sweater, hammering away at the keys of that old Royal typewriter.
Niles: Gosh, when did those two crazy kids become such a pair of old fuddy-duddies?

Frasier: Oh Roz, listen to this!
Roz: [yawning] I'm so sorry.
Frasier: That's all right. Here, have a seat.
Roz: I just bought Alice a new hamster, and it's kept me up all night just running around that squeaky damn wheel.
Frasier: Oh...
Daphne: Why don't you get it a quieter wheel?
Niles: Or oil the squeak.
Frasier: Or take the wheel out at night.
James: Or put the cage in another room?
Roz: Thank you. Where were you all at 3:00 this morning, when I was trying to shove a Sominex into a carrot?

Frasier: Oh. Oh, we almost forgot our memory box. You know, we never even looked inside.
Frasier: Oh Niles, look.
Niles: Oh. This is the program for our backyard production of "Hamlet".
Frasier: I'd totally forgotten about that.
Niles: So had I!
[Niles opens the program. He and Frasier take a brief glimpse, before Niles slams it shut.]
Frasier: You know, Niles, we may owe Mr. Lasskopf an apology.

Niles: I don't know, Frasier, that's pretty out there. Although, it would explain why Lasskopf didn't want us poking around under the floor. Frasier, we have a victim and a suspect.
Frasier: All right, not so fast, Niles. Are you forgetting item one from "Top Truths for Teen Sleuths: A Crane Boys' Mysteries Workbook"?
Niles: "A case is rarely elementary, but-"
Both: "Always evidentiary!"

Frasier: Oh, Mr. Lasskopf. So good to see you again. It's been a long time.
Mr. Lasskopf: What has?
Niles: We used to rent this house from you.
Frasier: Yes.
Niles: Uh, I'm Niles Crane, this is my brother, Frasier, and our dad. Do you remember?
Mr. Lasskopf: [looking at Frasier] Nope. [at Niles] Nope. [at Martin] You sort of look familiar.
Martin: Yeah, I should. I paid you rent for ten years, left the place in perfect condition, and you never gave me back my security deposit.
Mr. Lasskopf: Nope. Don't remember you either.

Martin: So, what made you finally decide to sell?
Mr. Lasskopf: Moving to the Cayman Islands.
Martin: Whoa, that'll be a change from Seattle.
Mr. Lasskopf: Gee, you think?
Martin: I hear they have great scuba diving down there. You scuba?
Mr. Lasskopf: Do I look like I scuba? I'm lucky I don't need a tank to breathe on land.
Martin: Just looking for a change of scenery, huh?
Mr. Lasskopf: Looking to be left alone. I'm not what you call a real social type.
Martin: You sure made friends with my security deposit.

Frasier: Oh my God, Niles! Look...
Niles: Don't give it to me. Is that real?
Frasier: It certainly feels real.
Niles: Well, what's it doing under the floor?
Frasier: How the hell should I know? I wonder who it could be?
Niles: Well, perhaps it's a builder who got trapped during construction, or a, an exterminator who was overcome with fumes.
Frasier: Excellent hypotheses, Niles. But unfortunately, neither is plausible.
Niles: Why not?
Frasier: Because, Niles, when you die, your head doesn't pop off like a champagne cork. It remains attached to the spine.

Niles: I found our memory box, and I think... this rock could be the murder weapon.
Frasier: Why that rock instead of all the other rocks down there?
Niles: It's pointier.