All language subtitles for The Mysteries of Laura s02e07 The Mystery of the Maternal Instinct.eng

(SIRENS WAILING)

(ROCK MUSIC PLAYING)

- You! Get off of my street!
- Out of the way, you moron!

Oh, come on, seriously?

This is 20 AB, 19-10, requesting a tow at...

WOMAN: Call 911!

What the...

What's with the hair?

Got into a fight with my hairdryer.

Uh-huh. Tony date night?

That too.

Something the matter with your neck?

Would you stop examining me already?

I just slept funny or something.

JAKE: Yeah, time for me to break
out my famous massage hands.

Oh, your famous massage hands
that landed you in divorce court?

You don't ever forget anything, do you?

Oh! Oh, that reminds me.
I got you a present.

Thanks.

I read online that if you write
things down, you remember them better.

Well, I remember you hawking me
without having to write it down.

What do we got, Reynaldo?

Just laying eyes on her, give me 30 seconds.

You might wanna talk to your witness.

You can't take my car!
I had the guy call 911!

- Hey buddy, time out.
- Are you our witness?

Yes, yes. I'm trying to explain that to him.

Unhook the car, she's with us.

Once it's hooked up, can't unhook it.

Is that the same rule as once a
stubborn ass, always a stubborn ass?

Thank you, I need my car for my work

and I have to be mobile. And so I really...

Just take a breath, tell us what you saw.

All right. I turned down the street
and I saw a man running into his car.

White, dressed regular,
he's about your height.

- What kind of car?
- White van.

- A minivan?
- No, no, van, van.

Like the vans you see at the airport.

And then he sped out and I look

and I see this woman
lying there on the curb.

So I pulled over, you know, and
thank god the street sweeper came.

(GRUNTS)

- Strained muscle?
- Yeah, I must have done something.

Here, I do massage.

Oh, no that's okay, that's okay. Oh, wow!

Oh, my God! Wow, that's really good! What...

You know, tell you what.
Just give me your card.

And we'll continue this
when I'm not working a case.

Hold on, I have it in my car.

I've got the information and the
perfect place to write it down.

You should call me. I can give you
50% off for getting my car down.

Deal. And for a hot stone, I can
also make parking tickets go away.

Not really.

(MOUTHS)

I need EMT's now! Now! As in, just now!

What's up, Reynaldo?
I heard this was a homicide.

Yeah, it is for the mother.
This baby is still alive.

Quickly, guys, we got a
live one counting on us.

- You, radio the hospital. Infant in distress, in route.
- Yes, sir!

All right, we need to start compressing.
We can get fluids to this baby stat.

MAN: Look, man, I've never done this.

REYNALDO: I have. Just listen to what I say.

Do what I tell you, you'll be fine.

Obviously the baby is a priority,

but we need to maintain evidence
from the mother. DNA, fingerprints.

You know I'll do what I can. But
you said it, the baby is a priority.

Fast as you can, guys. We need to hurry.

(SIRENS WAILING)

Laura's sticking with Reynaldo and the
victim to maintain chain of custody,

with whatever physical
evidence they find on the body.

Smart. This one's a first for me.

It must have been quite the
commotion out there this morning.

Yeah, it's a understatement of the week.

And we have no idea who this woman is?

Techs confirmed that her
prints are not in the system.

We're waiting on the DNA,

and patrols checking the
gutters in the area for her bag,

in case it dropped out of the van.

Well, let's hope so.

It'd certainly be nice to know who she is.

I have an idea what she is.

The area where your vic was dumped in
is effectually known as "Hooker's Row".

Well, that's interesting. Let's
go with that for a moment.

So, our victim is a hooker, she gets
pregnant, tries to hide it from her pimp.

Exactly, it happens all the time.

Pimp finds out, smacks her
around for not being careful.

- Working girl can't earn while pregnant.
- No, she can't.

So what I think happened is,

he tries to teach one of his girls a
lesson and then it gets out of hand.

- Way out of hand.
- Now that's the understatement of the week.

- Let me go over and see what's up.
- Do it. Jake, go with him.

All due respect, Cap, you too, Jake,

but I think my partner is a little
better equipped for this one.

I'm good with that, just go.

Good news, the baby made it. A boy.

Well, hopefully Laura can get
a real lead out of Reynaldo.

The baby in the NICU?

Yeah, it's got a bit of a fight
ahead of him, but he's in good hands.

- What about mom here?
- COD is head trauma.

Asphalt residue indicates she
likely hit her head on the pavement.

Possibly when she was dragged
or pushed out of the van.

And we know TOD is within half
an hour of my reaching the body.

Oh, of course. The baby couldn't stay
alive if it was longer than that.

Yeah, and he is very
lucky he made it at all.

- Why is that?
- The victim and the baby had incompatible RH factors.

On top of which, the mother
had a severe placental tear.

Once the blood types mixed,
it was only a matter of time.

When I was pregnant, that was
like the first test I took.

If they don't match, you get that shot.

Rhogam. Apparently, our victim
never received that injection

or perhaps, was never even tested.

What's all that?

Oh, this is my initial examination.

Reveals this placental tear
happened in two stages.

Minor at first, then subsequent trauma
caused it to become much larger.

Okay, so she fought her killer, lost.

Hit her head on the pavement.

Witness showed up and the killer rabbited.

It's plausible, found
touch DNA on the clothes.

We are running them
through codices right now.

What's with the tattoo?

Well, it's freshly inked.
Not more than a few weeks.

Could be some sort of gang affiliation,
I'll run it through division.

I don't know what's worse.
A gang hit on a pregnant woman

or a dead prostitute that
no one is looking for.

Uh-uh! No way! We know who you are.

- It's okay, I just need to...
- I don't care what you need.

You high-end whores come on hard times.

You end up right back down
here, working the corner.

Take your little ass right
back up to 5th Avenue.

(EXCLAIMS) I...

Thank you, I think. Actually,
I'm not here for work.

I'm here for information about my friend.

They found her on this block.

Murdered.

I think it happened this
morning, she was pregnant.

- Baby made it, she didn't.
- Don't know her.

But if you're saying someone tried
to beat the baby out of a whore,

wouldn't be the first
time I hear about that.

We're just trying to get her baby back to
its family. If there's anything you know.

I don't know her.

How about you guys, have you seen this girl?

- Anything?
- Uh-uh.

Nothing?

Hey, hey, hey, hey, you
got a question, you ask me.

- And you are?
- Vlady.

Damn, you're fine, girl. How
about you come work for me?

Really? You too? (CHUCKLES)

Pass. (CHUCKLES)

You know, you strike me as the kind
of guy who likes to beat his women.

- Maybe you beat this one.
- Get that out of my face.

(GROANS)

Don't even think about it, stupid! NYPD.

The big ones are always so slow.

Consider yourself lucky
my partner broke this up.

I would not have been so gentle.

(THEME SONG PLAYING)

Synced by emmasan
www.addic7ed.com

Man, I've been here for hours. Ever hear
of 6th amendment? Speedy trial, all that?

Wow, you're a real Renaissance, man.

A pimp, a murderer and a lawyer.

I told you, I do not know her. How am
I going to kill a person I do not know?

You didn't even look.

Oh, hell no.

I don't mess with her
kind, especially her kind.

Her kind? That better mean pregnant.

When I say her kind, I do not mean
pregnant. I mean Benin City product.

- Benin City?
- Yes, that Benin City mark. She Nigerian import.

I tried to turn one out a while back.

But big ass dudes with
bigger ass guns show up.

- They took her back.
- Okay, I need names.

I don't know. When big dudes
come at me with big guns,

they do not stop to introduce
themselves and I do not ask.

- All right, so these big ass pimps...
- Ah, no, no, not pimps.

No one try importing a
working girl like this.

Huh?

Too difficult to get into the country.

So, these scary Nigerian
guys, what do they do?

Smuggle. You need it, they
bring it. You pay, you have it.

Hey, that's my Christmas list, but
feel free to just write all over it.

Call customs, tell them to check
pregnant women from Benin City, Nigeria,

arriving in the last week, make it two.

How many of those can there be?

Exactly. I'm swinging it by records.

Text me the registered addresses
off of the landing cards.

And then tell Jake to meet me at the car.

Okay, so we're just not
saying please anymore?

So, the victim wasn't a hooker.

Our boy Vlady ID'd the
tattoo on her neck as a mark

for some sort of Nigerian syndicate.

It doesn't mean she wasn't prostituted.

No, but it makes it more unlikely.

Nigerian syndicate is no joke.

It's far easier for them to
smuggle goods than girls.

I'm going to call my
contacts at organized crime

and see what they have
coming out of Nigeria.

On the scumbag spectrum, these
scumbags are my least favorite.

They recruit the poorest
and most desperate women

and get them to do things that they
themselves don't have the guts to do.

This tracks a woman forced
into a life of servitude

wouldn't have access to a doctor,

let alone, have a Rhogam shot,
which per Reynaldo, she didn't.

Speaking of didn't, DNA didn't come up with
a familiar match for the mother or the baby.

(SIGHS)

Until we ID the victim, then we're
just running around in circles.

Circle no more. According to customs,
there were only five recent arrivals

from Benin city, Nigeria.

Three men, two women, one of whom was 65.

So I'm guessing she's not with child.

I see, so all semblance of etiquette
is just going to be ignored today.

Okay, Janabe DJ Kano came in last week

and filed for a legal tourist visa.

So, DJ jumps through all
of immigration's hoops

to enter the country legally, only to end
up dead on Hooker's Row a week later?

That doesn't track.

She lists the Merit
Suites Hotel in Chinatown

as her destination on her
tourist entrance form.

Laura and Jake are halfway to
JFK, we need to redirect them.

Done and done. They're on
their way to the hotel.

How efficient am I?

- Good job, Max.
- Thank you. How hard was that?

Meredith, call the Nigerian embassy
and see if they have anything.

I'll lead with the baby boy.
Maybe we'll get lucky

and someone in Benin City has
reported the mother missing.

Check with your CI's and see what the
word on the street is with these guys.

Oh, and Max, great work in
cracking the case wide open.

Oh, no problem. Just doing
what I do. So, no big deal.

- All right, you're all set.
- Thanks.

Good afternoon. How long
will you be staying with us?

I don't know. How long?

Don't make it weird.

You had a guest here a few
days ago. Do you recognize her?

Yeah, it was only a matter of time before
someone came asking about that one.

- Why is that?
- She comes in every few months.

I've seen her maybe five times myself.

And she stood out to you why?

Well, she checks in, pays for one
night but never goes to the room.

She just sits in the lobby. After a while,
a white van comes and picks her up.

Ever heard of, "See
something, say something?"

You know how many people check
in and never spend the night?

- A real layover hotel?
- Now that's what I'm saying.

So a van picked her up, always
the same one, same color?

Yeah, I think so, they look the
same to me. White is white, right?

- Where are you going?
- I'm taking a call.

So, I said there's no way I'm
spending $10 on asparagus water.

I'm just going to eat some
asparagus and make my own.

What the hell, lady?

Cops asking questions at
the pick-up, should I bail?

- Bail's not an option.
- Who's Carlo?

One little felony bust from impeding an
investigation and guess who ends up in Rikers.

Okay, okay. Every week or so

I pick up girls at the airport
for Carlo and I bring them here.

We hear they don't stay here
though. What's with that?

Answer the detective or we're
calling our van to pick you up.

Come on, man, I'm just a driver.

Well, news flash, driver,
you're recent pick up is dead.

Look, all I do is I drop
the girl off at the lobby,

and then I follow up when I
swing by again between runs.

No cops and the girl's
still here, I text Carlo.

Then a white van comes, pays
me five bills and picks her up.

Which brings us back to, "Who's Carlo?"

It's just Carlo, that's how he wants
it. Seriously, that's all I know.

No, it's not. You know his number.

Time to call in the dynamic duo.

Oh, the other dynamic duo.

The map says we're within
1,000 feet of the phone.

This is the third time that
thing has said we're right by it.

And I still don't see a white van.

You're sure you're holding it right?

Look, I know you're Miss Techno Gal and all,

but I can follow a red dot moving on a map.

I'm not so sure.

Great.

What?

- We're starting to sound like an old married couple.
- Do not even say that.

Look, right there. Don't let him see you.

Really? You're saying
that to me? Of all people.

Will you just follow the van?

You sound like a married couple.

MERIDITH: What's the app say?

BILLY: Phone's on the move again.

That's got to be Carlo.

Maybe he's just on his way home?

MEREDITH: If you can afford
two doormen that size,

you don't live in this neighborhood.

True.

Whatever our pregnant
victim was in New York for,

I bet you this is where it went down.

Yeah, my money's on you.

How do you feel if I call in
back-up before we go in?

I'd say you were a beat behind me, as usual.

(CHUCKLES)

Police! Freeze! Hands in
the air. Get on the ground.

Police! Get down. Face on the floor.

- Don't move!
- Get down right now.

- Behind the door.
- A little help.

OFFICER 1: Drop your weapons.

Hands where I can see them!

Come on.

- Clear.
- Got you covered.

(SCREAMS)

(SOBBING)

What the hell are we into here?

Just sit down. Relax.

Hi.

I'm Detective Diamond.

Laura.

Kimmy.

There's some food on the way.

Do you know this woman, Kimmy?

This mark, she is like me.

From the same place. Doing what I am doing.

- What are you doing?
- Gems.

Diamonds, sapphires.
Whatever they give us, we bring.

I don't know the other woman.

One goes, another comes back.

Unless they are found out.

Then what happens?

I do not know.

I do not want to think of it.

I hope they are here.

Even in jail.

It will be a better life than
the one we left behind.

How does it all work exactly?

I am provided the tickets to fly here.

I am given a small package.

A balloon.

It has uncut stones in it.

Uncut meaning untraceable.

So if you're caught, you
take the whole rap yourself.

Yes.

I swallow the balloon.

I fly with luggage as if I am a tourist.

Go to a hotel, then they take me here,

and wait for the balloon to pass through me.

But locking me in this room...

This has never happened before.

Not in all the times I do this.

I don't know why.

I think I do.

MALE OFFICER: Take a seat
and keep your mouth shut.

Okay, Carlo, now that I've
advised you of your rights,

I advise you to tell me
what happened to DJ Kano?

I don't know who that is.

I already got you on a dozen charges
before we even get to murder.

I suggest you start knowing.

To escape, DJ squeezed herself through
a small boarded-up window. Right?

That's got to be what started the
placenta rupture Reynaldo told us about.

Makes sense. It also makes sense
that you, or one of your scumbags,

caught up to DJ, tossed her out
of the van and left her for dead.

She stole one of the stones.

And she was my responsibility.

I'm going to have to cover that loss.

I looked everywhere.

I couldn't find her. I
swear on my mother's life.

Not knowing your mother, we're going to
need something a little bit more tangible.

(SCOFFS)

The women arrived with
luggage posing as tourist.

There's no way that DJ's
suitcase fit through that window.

Where is it?

Inside.

Come on, DJ, one little clue.

Gift for the baby.

Oh, I'm putting this aside.

- For what?
- Boy needs something from his mother.

Nice.

Pregnancy books. This is not the
bag of a professional smuggler.

There are page tabs in all of
these. Highlighted sections.

DJ was excited to be a mom.

She was smuggling for her baby.

For a chance at a better life.

Oh, this might help. Look.

She was, unlike some people,

writing things down to remember them.

L and R. Left, right.

- Could be a combination.
- 116 Malcolm.

I got it.

She was supposed to meet someone
named Malcolm at 1:16 p.m.,

where they'd open a locker
using the combination

to stow five stones by January 10th.

Case solved. Kaboom!

K-nope. It's not.

A, where's the meeting? B, who
sets a meeting for 1:16 p.m.?

Maybe our victim is a very precise person.

No? Oh.

Well, you're the detectives. You tell me.

Hold on. Come look at this.

It's directions.

And her own shorthand. 1.16 Malcolm is

the subway station at 116th
Street, Malcolm X Boulevard.

What about the numbers and the letters?

Bang a left and go four blocks,

but the L is after the four.

Oh, yeah, yeah. Like,
how in other countries,

they switch the month and the day.

(SPEAKS SPANISH)

So, four blocks left,

two blocks right brings us to...

110th Street.

And the five is,

well, it's right off of Fifth Avenue,
so it's a street address.

I bet that's where DJ sold the stones.

Five on 10th.

Max, you may now kaboom.

Kaboom.

(COUGHS)

If you folks are looking to buy,

I think we're sold out.

Harlem's the new Tribeca.

But you never know, there
could be one or two left.

This is the guy to call.

Thanks, but we're not in the market.

We're investigating a murder.

We think the victim might have
been here within the last week.

Murder? Holy moly!

Have you seen this woman?

Hey look, all I do is sign for
packages and open the door,

and I don't even do that very often.

Where do I sign up?

Looks like you got the place well covered.

We'll need to see the security
footage of the last 48 hours.

These are all real time. Nothing's recorded.

Sorry, I couldn't be more help.

You couldn't be a less help if you tried.

Maybe this guy's our guy.

JAKE: Makes sense.

Someone walks by, hands him a package.

- Passes off the cash.
- Whoa, whoa, whoa! I didn't do a thing.

Then stop giving us the runaround.

I assume your eyes are open when you're
sitting on your butt all day doing nothing.

Hey, look, it's quiet here.

Most of these units are owned
by foreigners with big wallets

looking to invest in Manhattan real estate.

Hardly anyone even lives here.

And her?

Yeah, I sort of remember
her going up one time

but I never saw her come out.

Maybe the night guy did.

- Where'd she go?
- Penthouse.

I called them, said they had a visitor
and they told me to send her up.

- That's all I know.
- Why don't you let us up?

Of course. Elevator's that way.

Helpful. How about that?

(ELEVATOR BELL DINGS)

(MECHANICAL WHIRIING)

I hear something mechanical.

Polishing the stones?

NYPD.

Noise complaint.

(MACHINE BEEPING)

I did not see this coming.

All right. I want you to
confiscate all phones.

I don't want any calls, text or
e-mails tipping off the suspect.

Already done.

And I put some monies down with the
doorman. He's been co-operative.

- Co-operative how?
- He gave me a place to put my gum.

He also confirmed that DJ was in this
apartment the night she was murdered.

Hmm, I'm guessing this is why?

- Who are these women?
- Maternity tourists.

Expectant moms from foreign countries

who want to give birth to American citizens.

Not sure the term's in favor,
but "Anchor babies."

I think the proper term is dual citizens.

Right, well, whatever people are calling
it these days, it is shady as hell.

- It's not illegal.
- (SIGHS)

ICE verify that they all arrived
with the proper tourist visas?

That's the tourism part of
maternity tourism that's legit.

Well, the front may be legit.

But running an unlicensed
hospital ward is definitely illegal.

Now, someone was keeping
all of this a secret.

So the question is who?

Billy and I will divide
and conquer the moms.

Jake is working on the nurse.

Maybe someone can give our "who" a name.

I wasn't on shift.
I just work here part-time.

- I swear I don't know anything.
- Let's go back.

- Who do you work for?
- Ambaby, but the bosses never show their faces here.

- We've never even met.
- Come on, I'm being nice.

Do you really want me to take you
downtown and book you for murder,

and let you and your lawyer figure
out what it is that you know?

Look, I applied on the website.
I'm a nursing student.

I saw a posting on the jobs board
at school. $200 per 10-hour shift.

Flexible schedules. So, yeah, I signed up,

but I swear I've never
once met anyone in charge.

Who tells you when to be at
work? What days to be here?

We get an e-mail from a
general Ambaby mailbox.

Like, shift opens Saturday,
8:00 a.m. to 6 p.m.

I reply yes or no.

There's an envelope with cash
waiting for me when I get here.

An envelope? From whom?

I have no idea.

A woman was murdered. You get that, right?

Either somebody tells me
what happened to DJ Kano,

or all of you are going down.

The nurses rotate constantly.

The only ones here
consistently are the clients.

That poor girl.

We all have our own rooms,
and I went to bed early.

But there was some kind of commotion.

I assumed it was a difficult labor.

When I woke up and didn't see DJ,

I assumed she was at the
hospital with her new baby.

That's a lot of assuming.
How'd you find this place?

Online.

Application. Payment. Everything.

The only people I've seen
are the medical staff.

Pretty costly operation.

- Where'd you find the money?
- My husband is very wealthy.

Paying for this was not a problem.

And it is worth much more.

For my child to go to school here
someday. To have a safe place to live.

And to bring you here
during your golden years?

There are worse place s to grow old.

Can you tell me who was working at
the nurse's desk two nights ago?

I was just in my room. I'm sorry.

Thank you.

- Cap.
- Hey.

You know, I thought maybe these women
were involved in the smuggling operation,

but according to financials Max pulled,

these women come from money and a lot of it.

That lines up.

Ms. Universe back there has got some serious
bank from her baby daddy back at home.

Plus, she doesn't give
me the smuggler's vibe.

Neither does her Chanel pocketbook.

A pocketbook? What are you? 100?

And these freaking ghost apartments,
they're screwing up the city.

Ghost apartments?

Yeah, they're glorified tax
shelters for super rich foreigners,

which results in high-end
apartment buildings

that are mostly dark at night
because no one lives there.

If you're doing things you
don't want anyone to see,

- darkness certainly makes it easier.
- Yeah.

Well, someone had to be responsible
for these women on a day-to-day basis.

So who is it?

I don't know how else to say it.
I wasn't working that night.

My friends could confirm it.

I need names and numbers.

Hey. Anything?

Well, so far, Ambaby sells these
moms luxury birthing services

and then hires underqualified
personnel to cut overhead.

All right. Double dipping.
Taken to the extreme.

Hey, when I was pregnant,

I drove my OBGYN nuts with phone calls.

So what happens when someone needs a doctor?

We text Dr. Nick. He's the
concierge physician here.

We need the contact for
the esteemed Dr. Nick.

The check-in desk. Call
sheet. Top left drawer.

What I don't get is how
does this impoverished woman

end up at a high-end maternity ward?

DJ made a plan. Run away
from Carlo. Steal a stone.

Yeah, that tracks.

She was working for smugglers back home.

No real hope for a better life.
And she got pregnant.

We both know kids change everything.

She just needs a place to hide
and Ambaby's all over the internet

trying to drum up business.

DJ hears about it in Nigeria,

saves the contact envelope
for her next trip to the U.S.

So DJ runs,

and checks in to a high-rise maternity ward,

but then she gets sick with RH toxicity.

Everything goes to hell.

Well, if this where her
concierge doctor works,

I'm starting to see why.

(MAN GROANING)

You do not want to make
that mistake, my friend.

Put the guns on the table. Now.

Impressive arsenal.

We don't know who you are and we don't care.

I'm looking for Dr. Nick.

And we're just supposed to
take your word for that?

- Do I look like a liar to you?
- You're a cop, ain't you?

We have bigger fish to fry
than two career criminals

who don't want a hospital ER

reporting their gunshot wounds.

(SPEAKING MANDARIN)

The lady said she just
wants to see Dr. Nick.

There's a reasonable man.

Point me in the right direction.

You're just going to let us go?

You can walk right out the front door.

(CONVERSING IN MANDARIN)

Is he here?

Down the hall, two doors to the left.

See? Wasn't that complicated.

Gentlemen, have a nice day.

(SPEAKS FOREIGN LANGUAGE) __

We're just letting them go?

- Two come now.
- MALE OFFICER: Freeze!

I told them they can
walk out the front door.

I didn't say there wouldn't be cops waiting.

(GROANING)

Stay still. Stay still. Stay still.

Don't move!

Bullet wound.

No. I didn't do anything.

We'll deal with you in a second.

I'm just treating a patient.

I have no involvement in whatever is done.

We're not here for him. We're here for you.

I don't even deliver the babies. I just...

Word gets out we busted
the criminals in your clinic,

I'd expect a drop-off and customers,

if you don't go to prison.

I lost my medical license.
I needed the money.

- Drugs?
- No. Poker.

I lose a lot, but I can't stop.

I got fired from the clinic I helped
found over gambling debts.

So, someone offers you easy money

to take care of those pregnant women,

and you take it despite
the dangers it poses.

I met the guy at a game.
I was losing. He was up.

He saw how desperate I was.

I told him I wasn't a
doctor anymore, but he said,

"Babies are babies. They
practically deliver themselves."

That's not what happened with DJ, was it?

You got in over your head. You panicked.

I wasn't even there that night.

Can you prove that?

Yeah. I was up at the tables.

The Mohegan Sun in Connecticut.

The dealer, he'll remember.
In fact, I got a text to come in.

But, like I said, I was up.

I had to ride out the street.

Which you rode all the way to zero.

- Did you answer that text?
- No, no.

I figured they had another
doctor they could call in.

Who the hell are "they?"

The only way for us to get to
the truth is to find your boss.

Now what can you tell me about him?

I don't ask a lot of questions.

I get a text. I show up. I get paid.

You are the only person we know
who has met this guy face to face.

Now, give me a description.

White guy, good looking, light hair, 30s.

If you don't give me
something useful, we're done.

And you're taking the hit.

I'm telling you what I know.

There's never any issues. It's always just

"Push, push, baby." That's it.
That's all that ever happens.

The only complication I have to deal with is

showing up at the right address.

The operation changes locations?

Yeah, every so often,

and I get a text with the
address when that happens.

Write down the number of that text.

Write.

Your boss, he owns the buildings?

You're asking me things I don't know.

It's always the same setup, like, at 510th.

A pricy... One of those high rises.

One time we had to move out
in a 24-hour turnaround,

because the apartment we were in, sold.

This can't be that impossible,

to track down who owns the place.

I'm telling you, I've tried all my tricks

and zip, nada, nothing.

God owns this penthouse.

God doesn't need to hide
assets to avoid taxes.

Some regular old person owns this.

Oh, one thing I do have. Downstate Equity,

the corporation that
held the original title,

hasn't gotten around to transferring it

to whoever does own it.

Lazy. Now you show me yours.

Pfft, nothing to show.

I mean, maybe your God theory isn't so off.

Ambaby's bills, records, registrations,

all lead to an untraceable owner.

Got an alibi which will probably hold up,

and a vague, no-name
description of our mastermind.

Oh, description's more than we had.

Dr. Nick remembers the time

when they moved the
maternity ward on the fly,

from one luxury apartment to the other,

while the one that they were in was sold.

That's why you couldn't
find a title transfer, Max.

Blank. Fill in, please.

The title was never transferred because

the apartment was never sold.

He's been using apartments
that aren't on the open market.

Genius.

Well, if that's the case, then who
would have access to the apartments.

Oh, oh.

Oops. Sorry.

The realtor showing the property.

- Scott Clark.
- Mmm-hmm.

Thankfully, my bag doubles as a trash can.

White, 30s, light hair,

just like the doctor described.

I'll show him the photo
and see if I can get an ID.

And we'll figure out how to make contact.

Hello. You guys have his number.

You can call or text him
from Mr. Doctor's phone.

This guy is careful.

If he suddenly gets a
call from his employee,

he might run for the hills.

I can think of a better way to
get the realtor's attention.

10,000 square feet, nice high ceilings,

got an unbeatable view.

How soon are you looking to buy?

Soon. It's an impressive apartment.

Yeah, there's an enormous
walk-in closet in the master.

You can move in as soon
as the end of the month.

Do you have anything higher up?

With an even more impressive view?

- Not at the moment.
- (SIGHS)

If you did, we could guarantee you a sale.

Did I mention we're paying all cash?

There's the penthouse.

How soon can we get in and see it?

My wife is anxious to buy.

Let me check.

(CELL PHONE RINGING)

Uh, my other phone.

Don't worry.

That's only me.

Is this some kind of scam?

How about some kind of arrest?

The burner phone I took from you

is connected to an illegal
maternity tourism ward

run out of an apartment on 110th Street.

I don't know anything about it.

Yeah, Dr. Nick gave you up,

along with the number that
you used to contact him,

from the phone in your pocket

that rang right in front of me.

You are the boss of Ambaby.

Which makes you one hell of a good candidate

for the murder of DJ Kano.

I didn't kill anybody.

If anything, I was this woman's hero.

She was a mess. She was this ragged T-shirt.

Dollar flip flops, I was
about to turn her away.

Until she offered you an uncut sapphire.

Dollar signs got the better of you.

It was a win-win.

And not a crime.

Or maybe DJ figured out
that the doctors and nurses

you were using were as fake as they come.

You killed her to shut her up.

I did no such thing.

The last time I saw DJ, I cleaned her up.

I sent her to the apartment.

I sent a text to the nurse on duty

to alert them that she was coming.

You gotta need to tell me all
the people there that night.

I don't really know any of them.

They're just numbered email
contacts in my burner phone.

I am still not hearing a name.

Either you tell me one or
you're going down for murder.

The murder of a pregnant woman.

Good luck with the jury with that.

Just hang on.

I don't know her name. I really don't.

She's some kind of messenger, I think.

What makes you think that?

Her email address, it's a...

It's CALL4MSG.com.

Why do I know that address?

Write it down and you'll remember.

Diamond was right again.

We are so grateful that
you were able to come down.

You were such a huge
help at the crime scene.

Oh, of course, yeah.

On the phone you said you arrested someone.

Yeah, I know that you didn't
get a good look at the suspect,

but we're holding a line-up,

and so if you could just take a look.

I only saw him running away.

Still, take a look. Might jog your memory.

- Okay. I'll give it a try.
- That would be great.

So where's the line-up?

Oh, it's here.

It's her. There in the reflection.

She's our killer.

What are you talking about?

You called me down here
to help. I'm the witness.

You didn't see a body being dumped.

You dumped a body.

Smart play, though.

Turning witness when you saw
the street sweeper coming.

No, that didn't... That didn't...

Medical examiner found
DNA on the victim's body.

We ran it through the
system. Nothing came up.

That's because you weren't in the system.

You'd never been arrested before.

Before today.

So, we ran it against a sample of your DNA

from the sweater you left at the scene

and guess whose DNA was
wrapped around DJ's ankle.

You dragged her by her feet.

That's how her head was cracked open.

You couldn't lift her.

No, that's not right. No, you see,

I only touched her to save her.

I'm the one that stopped to help.

- Oh, see? Mmm! No. Wrong again.
- I...

Uh-uh. We have confirmation that
you were on duty that night.

Oh, and CALL4MSG, your domain name.

There was no guy. There was no van.

There was just you.

I texted Dr. Nick.

That was what I was supposed to do.

And it was not my fault
that he didn't answer.

So instead, you drive her
to a crappy neighborhood

- and ditch her in a gutter?
- No.

I was gonna call 911. I just...

Her head hit the curb.

I mean, that was just...
That was an accident.

I didn't... The street
sweeper guy, he saw me there.

- I didn't mean to do this.
- "I didn't mean."

"I didn't mean."

You left DJ for dead.

Around here, that's called homicide.

Get her out of my face.

BOY: I don't think it's a bad word.

End of discussion.

Daddy says it when we watch hockey.

Well, I... Grown men are allowed to say it

when they watch sports.

But you're still boys,

and Mommy is totally right on this one.

- Most ones, usually.
- Thank you.

Okay.

Plates in the sink.

If you want comic book time, go.

I got yours.

And for the record,

I only use that word
when the Islanders cheat.

You mean when the Rangers cheat.

Okay.

Thanks for letting me stay for dinner.

I needed a little family time after today.

No worries. I did too.

(CELL PHONE CHIMES)

Family services found
some of DJ's relatives.

A retired couple down in Baltimore.

- Oh, they're going to take the baby.
- Oh!

Great news. Great news.

Oh, wait. I forgot.
I have something for you.

Ah. Should have written it down.

- Ha, ha, ha.
- (GIGGLES)

Consider your terms met.

"Jake Broderick came to see
me and allowed me to perform

"an in-depth battery of tests.

"I concur with his current
physician's treatment plan."

You wanted proof?

I saw Leo's doctor. Here it
is, on official letterhead.

So, how's next Saturday night?

- Jake.
- A deal's a deal.

I see a doctor, you out on a date.

What, are you welching?

You've become a welcher?

(SCOFFS)

All right.

- Saturday.
- Night.

Night.

To keep track of the important things.

(SIGHS)

It's a date.

It's a date.

All right, who wants to read to Daddy?

- Me, me, me, me.
- No, me. Me.

- Me.
- Me.

- JAKE: What do we got?
- (SIGHS)

(SONG PLAYING)

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