All language subtitles for CSI.Crime.Scene.Investigation.S11E11.Man.Up.720p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.H.264-NTb

Strangled.

Left outside the Dumpster.

That's a new one.

Maybe the killer
wanted her to be found.

Wait-- you actually
think this is real?

Look at her coloring.

She is not dead.

With all due respect, Mandy,
you're a fingerprint expert,

and this is kind of
out of your league.

And I quote,
"She is not only merely dead,

she is most sincerely dead."

I beg to differ, Dorothy.

If you knew your
Wizard of Oz,you'd know

that it was the Munchkin coroner
that pronounced her dead,

not the girl
with the dog.

Slow night in here, kids?

You do know that everything

posted on this
Web site's fake,

don't you?
I mean, come on.

You guys are supposed
to be professionals.

Exactly what I've been
trying to tell them.

So, you made up
your mind already?

You haven't
thoroughly examined

the photo.

That's not very professional.

All right, zoom in on the hand.

Look there, by her knuckle.

Blood vessels are distended;

that means
she has blood pressure.

Arms flexed,
muscles are contracted.

She's alive.

It's a fake. Case closed.

Hand is below
the level of her heart.

Blood's pooled in her extremity,
distending the vessels.

It could be lividity,
not blood pressure.

But how do you explain
that flexed arm?

Body position puts
pressure on the tendons,

pulling her arm
into a slight flex.

I say she's dead.

Hard to tell
without a body.

You're right.

And if this is real,
then we have a DB off the strip.

Looks like it's, uh,
west of the Tropicana.

We should go check it out.

I'm telling you,
it's a waste of time.

Hundred bucks says I'm right.

I don't even think
you have $100.

But let's go; I'll drive.

LVPD-- make a
hole, people.

Oh, man,
this just keeps getting better.

"She is most sincerely dead."

I suppose it would be tasteless

for me to mention
the 100 bucks you owe me.

Extremely.

Any of you curious kittens
think to call 911?

Huh?

Dispatch, Charlie

0-5 Stokes.
I got a 419.

I need two backup units
to my location.

Hey, man! Hey, hey!

Hey. Hey!

Hey, that's my camera.WOMAN: Come on, dude.

Yeah, well,
now it's our evidence.

And this is our crime scene.

And you're a suspect.
I want to see some I.D.

And that goes for
the rest of you!

Nobody's leaving now!

You're all suspects!

I want to see some I.D.!

Come on, now.

Where you going, bud?

Show's just
getting started.

Captioning sponsored by
CBS, C.S.I. PRODUCTIONS

and TOYOTA.

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪

♪ I really wanna know ♪

♪ Who... are you? ♪

♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪♪ Who... ♪

♪ Come on, tell me who are you,
you, you ♪

♪ Are you! ♪

Look, Officer,

I just got off work
at the diner.

You can call my boss.

He'll tell you
I was there all night.

I came by 'cause I saw
the picture on the Web site.

Nice little crime scene
you got here.

So you called in

your own 419
off a Web posting?

I mean, I heard
of firemen

setting fires
to get overtime.

Don't tell me you're dropping
bodies for extra cash.

Well, he does need 100 bucks.

T.O.D. was
four to six hours ago.

Petechial hemorrhaging,

consistent with strangulation.

Yeah, the orange cord
around her neck

was my first clue.

Yeah.
Looks like a lanyard.

Something was
attached to it--

an I.D. badge
or... security pass.

Could be a robbery.

Little black dress,
stilettos--

she could be a tourist.

Or working girl.

Either way, she should have
stuck to the Strip.

I mean, you know, out here--
isolated lot, at night--

this place is bad news.

Victim is Amber Rowe.

Priors for solicitation
and possession.

Well, C.O.D.'s asphyxiation
due to strangulation.

I did a wet mount.

She had intercourse
shortly before death.

Lots of swimmers.

And I thought hookers
enforced the raincoat rule.

Anyway, she died
around 1:00 a.m.

Most hookers
hit the streets

between 11:00
and midnight.

Maybe those swimmers were from

her first and last
trick of the night.

Well, I sent
the rape kit to DNA.

You mind if I use
your laptop for a second?

Open a new window.

I'm in the middle
of an auction--

Robert Johnson 78s.

What's up, Nicky?

This is a photo
from the Web site.

Take a look at the position

of the lanyard.

It's tight around the bottom
of her neck-- here.

But the ligature mark
on the body's different.

It's higher, at an angle.

This is not a match.

The killer
dumped the body, Nick.

The lanyard could've
changed position.

Could be any number
of explanations.

I don't know.

The dress in the photo
looks different, too.

Excuse me?

They're not the same.

There's sequins along
the neckline of the dress.

Take a look at the
dress she was found in.

Yeah, right here.

No sequins.

Same location...

and I know this is
the same girl.

The photo shows a different
dress, different ligature.

Well, how's that happen?

So I contacted the Web hosts

from VictimsOfVegas.com.

They sent over the metadata
for the uploaded photo.

According to the data,
the picture of your dead hooker

was taken at 12:23 a.m.

two nights ago.

But she died around
1:00 a.m.-- this morning.

So the photo was taken

at least 24 hours
before she died.

Your metadata must be wrong.

No, no, I don't think so.

You really can't stand
to lose a bet, can you?

Are you in on this?

Wait. Don't look at me.

Data's data.

Zoom in on that
hubcap, Archie.

Fireworks?!

Yep. Over the Tangiers.

Every Wednesday night
from midnight to 12:30.

This photo was taken

two nights ago, Greg,
and she was alive.

I think you owe
the man 100 bucks.

So what are
we saying?

A killer
fakes a photo

of a dead hooker
in a Dumpster

24 hours before he
kills her for real?

That's insane.

No.

No, you know
what's really insane?

Betting against me.

Let's go, baby.

Thanks a lot, Archie.

Didn't hear
you ride up.

Thought you said it
was just running rough.

Yeah, it was until
about a half mile ago

when it died in front
of a high school...

full of youngsters
who need to be taught

that this is
proper motorcycle attire

and not fodder
for ridicule.

I thought you said
this bike was all original.

That's what the guy
at the swap meet told me.

You bought a vintage bike
at a swap meet?

Is that bad?

Tell me you got
the name and number of the guy

that sold this bike to you.

Well, he-he had honest eyes
and a firm handshake.

Your headlight,
your tank-- that's real.

Your taillight's retro,

your seat's retro...

You got some...

sloppy welding here
at the exhaust.

This, uh, rearview mirror
is certainly not original.

So I got suckered.

Yes, you did.

My bike's
a Frankenstein monster.

Yes, Igor.

But listen...

maybe we can get it
running again for you.

You been working
on the bike, David?

No. Why?

Well...

...there's blood
on your air filter.

Oh!

Think I may have
found your problem.

Ooh!

What is that?
That is tissue.

See the ridge detail?Yeah.

And the partial nail?
Judging from the width,

I'd say this was the tip
of someone's thumb.

All I wanted to buy
was a sweet ride.

Well, it looks like you
bought yourself a crime scene.

Yeah, you're right.

You know, I've been
defrauded.
And "bethumbed."

Yeah, I'm going to get
to the bottom of this!

You wanted to be
in the field more.

Follow the evidence.

I talked to
this vice cop I know.

He said that Amber
Rowe was a regular,

but that she
cleaned her act up.

She got out of the business
about six months ago.

Guess not.

LVPD!

Open up!

Can I help you?

Yeah, we're looking for

Amber Rowe's apartment.
Who are you?

I'm her boyfriend.

She, uh...

promised me she wasn't
going to do it anymore.

Do you know if she had a pimp?

Obviously she was...

pretty good at hiding
that stuff from me.

So, she must have been

getting calls
from dates,

all hours of the
day and night.

How'd she hide that?

She told me that
she was modeling, you know?

That things were going
really well for her.

So let me
get this straight.

Your model girlfriend
doesn't come home last night,

and you don't start to think
there might be something wrong?

She called me
last night, all right?--

just after midnight--

and told me that she was out
with some of her friends.

She'd see me in the morning.

It's Vegas.

And what's your
first name again?

Craig.

Craig.

And, uh...

what is it that you do
for a living, Craig?

I do a little consulting.

In your pajamas?

In the middle of the day?

Hey, you know, I, uh...

don't see much, uh,
consulting going on.

Hey, I don't let
my girlfriend support me,

if that's what you think.

All right, look.

I mean, I think, deep down...

I knew.

You know?
But I couldn't stop her.

For Amber,
hooking was...

was like a drug, you know?

Nah, I just, uh, I don't know.

I don't know, I guess
she stayed with me 'cause...

I made her feel safe.

Tell you what, why don't you
put on some clothes

and have a cup of coffee
with the officer outside

while we take a look around here
for a little bit?

I mean, you don't mind, do you?

You got nothing
to hide.

No.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

I examined

that little black dress
that Nick and I found

in Amber Rowe's
apartment.

Oh, the one she was wearing
when she wasn't dead?

Yeah, found hairs--

Equus burchelli,
otherwise known as zebra--

confined to the butt area
of the dress.

So, what, she was sitting
on a zebra?

More likely zebra-skin seats.

I thought

zebra seats went out with disco.

Well, actually,
they're making a comeback,

starting about
three hours ago.

Now, a buddy in Patrol
sent this to me.

It's not
an official police photo,

but it's been making the rounds.

That's Carrot Top.

He went missing the other night.

Kidnapped for a few hours.

Looks like he was found.

Zoom in on
his wrists.

That's the same type of lanyard
used to strangle Amber Rowe.

Sure is.

Carrot Top and a dead hooker.

Why am I not laughing?

So what's the deal,
Captain?

The sheriff told my manager
everything was cool.

I said I wouldn't
press any charges.

Well, now we know why.

The other night got
a little wilder than your story

about how some crazed fans
kidnapped you, got you drunk,

and hog-tied you
in the back of a limo.

Well, when you're
a celebrity--

icon, you know--
things are a little nutty.

Sometimes you're
a target, you know?

There's a lot
of crazy people out here.

Icon.
My face
is on a room key.

Dude, I kill in Vegas--
look at that.

That's what we want
to talk to you about.

You seen her before?

Looks like you knew her.

I did know her.

She was alive when
I knew her-- she was hot.

When I say that, I mean,
like, in a live way.

She was, she was definitely
alive when I saw her last.

And how did you
two get together?

I had a show
the other night

and, uh, I wanted
to blow off a little steam,

so I got a limo,
just in case

things turned out better
than they normally do.

"Carrot Top's Wild Ride."

How'd it start?

It started at a,
uh, strip club.

I know,
shocker, right?

It's called Crazy Ponies.

It was great 'cause some
of my fans were there,

and so, that's good,
'cause they buy you drinks

and everything else, so...

And this girl--

was, was she
the "everything else"?

She was
the "everything else," yeah.

I remember her high-beams.

Very attractive.

Oh, man! Couple guys there, too.

I don't remember them as well.

After that, it was lights out.

Next thing I know, I see a
bunch of cops laughing at me,

and I wasn't telling any jokes,

so we kind of wanted to keep it
on the lowdown, you know,

'cause I have
a reputation.

You probably
know that, though.

Hog-tied...
Yep.

in your boxer shorts,
passed out on zebra skin.

That's kind of an image you
can't get out of your head.

It's an image we'd all like
to get out of our heads.

Thanks for bringing it up.

So these guys
that were in the limo--

can you describe
them for me?

Uh, my eyes were more
on the girl.

Uh, they were two

preppy guys, and they asked
for, for passes,

and they were nice,
so I gave 'em

a couple backstage passes,
and they used them

to, uh, tie me up.

Well, you're lucky you
didn't end up like Amber.

To think the Topper
was in danger.
Yeah.

It's a shame only the good
die young, isn't it?

I get, like,
one phone call, don't I?

You don't need
a lawyer, Topper.

I know, I need my publicist.

♪ ♪

What do you think--
cheap jewelry?

Well, looks like it's
from some sort of costume.

Could be from
a previous rental.

So do you think you have
to request zebra-skin seats,

or did Carrot Top
just get lucky?

Ran DNA on the
thumb and blood

we found on my
motorcycle air filter.

The blood and the thumb
were from two different
contributors?

Mm-hmm. Ran both
through CODIS,

ran the thumb
through AFIS.

There were no hits on the thumb,
but the blood came back

to an unidentified male
victim in a bus accident.

A month ago, Highway 19,

head-on collision
between two buses.

Both drivers were killed.

Now, the blood wasn't a match to
either one of the drivers,

but the unknown
male was thought

to be a passenger
on one of the buses.

I don't think so.

You're thinking the unknown
male wasn't on the bus.

He was on your bike?

I think the body
was vaporized.

It's possible, isn't it?Well, there's

no mention of a motorcycle
in this accident report.

Nor in any of
the news reports,

but that doesn't mean
my bike wasn't there.

Doesn't it?

Oh, come on, surely
you've heard this story.

It's been around
for decades.

No.

Family in a VW Beetle are
crushed between two semis.

Nobody realizes this until
they pry the semis apart

and there's the VW,
accordioned,

with the family
entombed inside it.

That sounds like
an urban myth to me.

Yeah, more like
a fairy tale

compared to what must have
happened that dark night

on that lonely stretch
of two-lane terror.

It says here it happened
during the day.

Oh.
Also says...

the wreckage was hauled away
by Mars Brothers Salvage.

You might want
to check that out.

If you're looking
for tickets for a show,

I could call in a favor, but...SANDERS:
Thanks.

Actually,
I'm looking for these.

Found them
in the limo.

Trace says the chain is
silicon-bronze plated

and the emerald
is tourmaline.

It's costume jewelry.

Emphasis being on costume.

Bring up
the Mediterranean.

I already checked.

The showroom's dark.

No, not the showroom,
the casino.

And click on the
photo gallery.

Okay, now pull up

that photo of the Spartan
in the Agora.

The what?
The mall.

I helped Sam pick out
those costumes

when I was a little girl.

I loved Kirk Douglas
in Spartacus.

I loved his skirt, his himation.

I take it that's Greek?

It's the cloak.

That and the skirt were my idea.

All I'm saying is
that your trace

is from a Greek.

Spartacus was in that limo.

Two nights ago,
I was on a bathroom break.

Can't be easy
in that getup.

Well, it's not
so much the skirt

as it is the armor
and weaponry.

Right up here.

Scene of the crime.

I go to the gym, work out.

Like to think
I can handle myself,

but these guys caught me
at a strategic disadvantage.

"Guys"-- so there
was more than one?

Well, it would
take at least two.

I mean, I didn't
actually see 'em.

Here we are.

All right, well, tell
me what happened.

Sat my gear down on the floor
like I always do, took a seat.

I grabbed onto the door,
but they hit me with it.

Bastard took my sword,
cloak, shield and helmet.

I mean, took me half
a week's pay to replace them.

Why would anyone
want that stuff?

I mean, what guy's gonna dress

like a Spartan
if he doesn't have to?

Well, I can think of about 300.

Excuse me.

I think I found your barbarians.

I don't know what
to tell you, boys.

We just haul
the wrecks away

and sell off any good
parts we can salvage.

Do you recall a head-on
collision between two buses

on Highway 19 last month?

Oh, yeah.

Hell of a mess.
Whew!

Pretty nasty
cleanup, too.

Well, do you still
have the buses here?

Oh, boy.

You know, my brother Denny's
in charge of inventory.

Denny!

What?

Hey, where are them two buses
from that demo derby on 19?

They're over in row nine.

Man, he's good.

He's got one of them
photogenic memories.

Clearly.

Mind if I
take a look?

No-- anything
for the police.

Hey, just remember me
next time I get a ticket.

Huh?
Will do. Yeah.

Yeah, I, too, am blessed
with a photogenic memory.

You're good here.

I'm gonna get to work.

All right.
Right down that way.

This row right here.

Just holler if
you need a hand, partner.

♪ ♪

Oh, no.
How embarrassing!

You are so busted!

Cyber-schmooze on
your own time there, Arch.

Yeah, we're in the middle
of a case here.

So am I.

In fact, when you were

on your bathroom break
with the Spartan,

I traced the photo
of the living hooker

back to
a social networking site.

Oh, yeah?
Did you get us a name?No.

But I got three
prepaid cell phone users

all sharing photos
on the site, anonymously.

See, there's Carrot Top...STOKES: And Amber.

Number three:
"Kidnap a celebrity"?

Check out number two.

"Steal from a casino."

And number one?

"Grand theft auto."

I mean, all these
photos were posted

on the same night--

the night before your hooker
was actually murdered.

Including this photo,
that ended up on VictimsOfVegas.

Number four: "Kill a hooker."

Okay, three cell phones,
three suspects--

this is like some kind
of twisted bucket list.

The night starts with stealing
a car, ends in murder.

Except it didn't--
they only went through with

the first three things
on the list.

And they didn't kill the hooker.

At least not until
the following night.

All right, so,
maybe on the first night,

the creeps got cold feet.

And then, the next night,

they decided to complete their
list before heading home.

Let's just hope
the list ends here.

The part I pulled from
the bus at the junkyard

was definitely from
a Triumph motorcycle.Sounds like you found out

where the parts for your
Frankenstein bike came from.Mm-hmm.

Serial number traced
back to a bike owned
by a Peter Farmer.

Last known address:
214 Harlan Way.

Yeah, it's an apartment.
I talked to the landlord.

Farmer's ex-girlfriend
still lives there.You bringing her in?

She's on her
way to PD.
Great.

Care to join me?Why not?

I can't believe it.

Are you sure,
smashed between two busses?

We're sorry for your loss.

Uh, when was the last time
you... saw Peter?

The day he left.

I felt bad;
I-I made him lunch.

Curry egg salad.

I love that.

On toast points.

I remember his last words.

"We'll always have Comic Con."

You were very close.

I loved him.

But... he couldn't commit.

He never loved me
the way he loved his mother.

That's why I ended it.

It's my fault.

I'm the reason
he was on that motorcycle.

Why do you say that?

After I broke up with Peter,
he was... lost,

adrift, searching.

Uh-huh.

He bought the bike.

Bought a whole outfit.

He looked just like
Marlon Brando in The Wild One.

Except thinner.

He wanted to...

hit the open road

and... find himself.

I know.

May I ask you something?

Okay.

Was there... anything
he could have said,

was there... something
he could have done

that would have convinced you
to give him one more chance?

Um...

I've asked myself that
same question over and over.

And?

There is one thing.

What?
Oh.

It's my boyfriend.

Uh, he's got a big
race today-- triathlete.

I, uh, I gotta go.

Thank you for...

for telling me about Peter.

You remind me so much of him.

Thank you.

Mm.

Uh, can I ask
you something?

Yes. What is it?

How far did he get?

The Grand Canyon?
Glacier Park? Nova Scotia?

Highway 19, near
the 12 junction.

A quarter mile.

Huh.

Archie got the numbers
from the prepaid cells

that shared
the bucket list photos

on the social
networking site.

Mm-hmm.Area codes are all 312.

Chicago.

Oh. Even a life of
rooting for the Cubs

is no excuse
for this behavior.

So we know where
the guys are from,

we just don't know
who they are.

I might be able
to help with that.

The prints
on the men's door

that clocked that Spartan
came back to a Scott Horan.

Arrested ten
years ago for trespassing.

He tried to mount
Caesar's chariot

and race it down the Strip.

What?!

I love this town.

Looks like our
chariot-jacker's from Chicago.

Let's see what
he's doing now.

Scott Horan--
still living in the Windy City.

32 years old.

Guy's got
a Maybach anda Bentley

registered to him.

Boy's got dough.

You know how boys

tire of their toys.

But if he
considers this playtime,

we need to end it.

I'll have Brass trap
Horan's credit cards.

So, hotel security
spotted Scott Horan

in a long checkout line.

We pulled his
credit cards receipts.

We found out that
he bought three plane tickets

and three rooms.

The other names are
Hunter Ahern and Jeff Blakely.

That must be our
other two suspects. Exactamente.

Larry, Curly and Moe.

Las Vegas Police.
You're under arrest.

We-We didn't
do anything. Ow.

What the hell'd you do, Scott?Dude, you dime us out?

No, hey, look... hey,
this isn't what you think.

Big misunderstanding. Huge!

Seriously, I can explain!

Look, we didn't
do anything.

Really, Hunter?

Who's lying, you
or the pictures?

We were just playing a game.

Felony murder's not a game.

Golf is a game.

We came to Vegas to celebrate

our ten-year college reunion.STOKES:
Oh, yeah?

Is killing a hooker
how you celebrate?

Uh, these pictures are fake.

My buddies, Jeff and Hunter,
they were messing with me,

and I fell for it--
at least at first--

but, uh, no,
these are a joke at my expense.

A joke?

That young lady's dead.
This ain't no joke.

I'm, uh, I'm telling you that
these are not real pictures.

She's not dead.

You can ask her.
She'll tell you.

Well, she already told me
from the autopsy table.

She's really dead?

As dead as it gets.

That's why you're
here, Scott.

If Jeff and Hunter killed her

and you know
something,

well, you better talk to me
or you're going down with them.

Look, it was my idea
to come to Vegas.

The last time
we were here,

we did all these things
on a dare.

Yeah, yeah, like, uh,
steal Caesar's chariot

and ride down
the Strip.

I was a kid.
It was a dumb thing to do.

I got busted.

And I still had the dare list
from ten years ago.

And I thought it would be fun
to do it again.

This is so lame, dude.

I can't believe
we did this.

Nah, it just needs
a little work.

Hunter's a magazine editor.

It's his job to edit
and spice things up.

That's what he did.

A game?!

Grand theft auto?

Stealing from a casino?

Kidnapping? Murder?

What do you get
when you win this game?

Nothing.

Well, I mean, everything.

A free weekend in Vegas--
loser pays.

In this case, Scott.

He picked up the tab
for all of you.

As smart as Scott is,

it never ceases to amaze me
how easy it is to mess with him.

I mean, the guy's a loser.

He's always been a loser.

But he's our loser.

Even when we were kids.

Back then,
his dad was loaded.

Then Scott struck it rich

a couple years ago
with this software app.

So what are you saying-- this
whole thing was just a setup

for your loser pal
to pay for your weekend?

And have a little fun
at his expense.

It was going great

until we had a little
rules dispute.

Scott was pissed.

Said we cheated
because we teamed up,

instead of playing on our own.

You rolled a greeter in
a men's room, and you call this

stealing from a casino?
I'm sorry.

You're an embarrassment.

It's just sad.

I was following the rules.

Yeah, and before
that, you tipped a valet

so you could drive some jerk's
Ferrari around the block.

We frickin' kidnapped
Carrot Top!

Give it up, Poindexter.

Your friends won.

Scott said he
was through with the game,

but we told him there was
one more dare left on the list.

"Kill a hooker."

No. We just made it look
like we did.

Ready? Okay.

Really. Get down.

Put your arm right over--
aw, that's perfect.

Okay.

We paid Amber
to lure Carrot Top,

so we figured, for a few
bucks more, she'd play dead.

I mean, hell,
she even thought it was funny.

And then you sent the photo
to your buddy Scott.

Bet he freaked out.

Understatement.

Here's what I don't understand.

Why'd you go back
the next night and kill Amber?

You already won.

We didn't kill her.

Well, at least... well, at
least, I didn't kill her.

Well, somebody did.

And then they posted
your fake photo on some Web site

for psychologically disturbed
individuals.

I swear I don't know
anything about that.

The only thing we did with that
photo was e-mail it to Scott.

Are you sure
about that?

Because you and your buddies
were the only ones

who had the photo.

Oh, no.

Amber.

Amber?!

She wanted a copy.

I e-mailed the photo to her.

I told Hunter
not to give it to her.

Chick said she wanted
to show her boyfriend.

Said it was the easiest
two grand she ever made.

Her boyfriend?

Does he have a name?

I think it was... Greg or Craig.

Something like that.

Where did you drop Amber off?

Where we met her.

At the hotel bar.

Yeah, I know this guy.
He's at the tables

every single night.

You know what he is?
He's a cheap bastard.

Win or lose,
the guy never tips.

Seen him lately?Yeah, that's his usual table.

Let's go. You've been killing me
all night, Ty. Let's go!

Good luck.
Yeah-- 18.
I'll take it.

Is this how you mourn
the loss of your girlfriend?

Not now.
All right, guys? I'm working.

No, you're all done.

You're all done, Cool Hand.

You're coming with me.
Let's go downtown.

Downtown?
Yeah.

I don't think so, okay?

I'm doubling down here.
It's a big hand.

You're doubling down?

Color him out.

My chips!

I got this.
Don't worry about it.

This is from Amber.

Take it all.

Hey, Denny.

Is your brother around?

Hey, Doyle!

Your buddy's back.

Hey, Crime Lab Man!

Nice bike.

Oh, you think so?

Want to ask you about a refund.

Refund?

I didn't sell it to you.

No, but you sold the parts

to the guy
who made this Frankenstein.

Which means that you knew
that this motorcycle

and its dead rider were
involved in that bus wreck,

and you didn't
report it.

That's evidence tampering.

Come on now, hoss.

I'm just trying
to make a living here, man.

If I sell a few extra parts
on the side, what's the harm?

The man's already dead.

Well, thanks to you,
nobody knew that.

Well...

I'm sure we can
work something out.

What kind of refund would
make you look the other way?

It's not going
to cost you any money.

No, but it'll cost you
six months in County.

You're both under arrest

for obstruction
of justice.

I got to know.

How'd you figure it out?

I followed the evidence.

Where you saw some scrap
and some quick cash, I saw a man

who needed
to be spoken for.

Your brother's the one
who gave me the tip.

You got this.

What about your bike?

Oh, keep it.

It's evidence.

I'm done with the open road.

You got nothing.

These are Amber's
bank records.

You cleaned her out
after she died.
Yeah.

Well, what's hers is mine, okay?

That's love, buddy.

No, sir. This here is motive.

Now, the staff
at the Luxor tells me

that you drop a couple of g's
there every other day.

Is that why you forced
your girlfriend

to start hooking again?

Hey, I did not
force her, okay?

She did it on her own.

She wanted to
do it, you know?

Hey, what do they say--

"once a whore,
always a whore."

Wow.

Wow, you know,
you're a real gentleman.

Thank you.

I think she wanted to leave you,
but you wouldn't let her.

She showed you that phony photo
of her own death.

You just took it as an
opportunity to really kill her.

You could just pin it on one
of those Chi Town flunkies.

Am I right?

No. No.

Listen to me.
Amber-- she loved me, okay?

Everything she did,
she did it for me.

You know, on the night she
died, she called me, okay?

Earlier in the night.
She said

she came into some green,
some cash-- five grand and...

I had kind of a rough night
at the tables that night, so...

What was I gonna do?

She said she'd put it
in my account.

Hey, call the Luxor, okay?

I was there,
all night long-- losing.

Five grand, huh?

How many tricks
did she have to turn

to make that kind of money?

One.

Guy's little head was doing
all the thinking for him.

You know, he even told her

he would give her
another five g's

after he was done.

Idiot.

And who was this guy?

He's one of those guys--
Chi Town flunkies.

Hey...

how did she get you
that much cash

in the middle of the night?

You ever hear of an ATM?

They scan cash now.

Bank traced Amber's $5,000

deposit to this ATM.

And if one of our Chicago boys
gave her the money,

his prints may still be on it.

The last cash deposit
was for $1,200.

$1,200.

Cash deposit for $1,500.

Another cash deposit for $280.

That's $5,000.

♪ ♪

♪ ♪

We found your prints

on the cash
you gave Amber Rowe.

Right before
you killed her.

What happened?

Tired of being the loser?

Tired of being the brunt
of your friends' jokes?

Check your e-mail.

Told you, bro.

Game's over when
we say it's over.

You lose. Again.

You... You killed
the girl for a bet?

Man up.

You got bills to pay.

By the way,
we drained the minibar.

I thought they really did it.

I wanted to call the cops a
hundred times, but I was scared.

The minute I make
that call, my life

is over.

Whether I killed her or not,
I'm a part of it.

Tried to drink it all away.

Or maybe tried
to get up the courage

to do the right thing.

And then she walked in.

You're friends with the guys.

Yup. Uh, you know, I, uh...

I fell for it.

Come on,
you can't be that stupid.

She told me she was in on the whole thing.

When I told her
that I really thought

she was dead...

she just started laughing.

She said she couldn't believe
that I was so stupid.

I could take that from the guys,
but not from some whore.

That's when I
figured it out.

A way to wipe the smiles off
all their faces.

I offered her ten grand
for another photo shoot.

In all those years...

I know it's sick, but...
it felt so good...

...to one-up them.

After I killed
Amber, I uploaded

the staged photo-- their photo--
to that Vegas Web site,

and I killed theirhooker.

On the plane home,
I was going to tell them

that I did it, but they were
on the hook for it.

I won.

I was finally the one
calling the shots.

I was The Man.

And-And what's that like,
being The Man?

So your friends
are gonna go to jail
for misdemeanor.

You're going
to go to prison for murder one.

I guess that's a win.

Mm.

There you go.

What are you doing?

You won the bet.

No.

No, all bets are off.

Nobody wins here.

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