Original subtitles

The homeowner, Dr. Alvin Taylor,

said he became alarmed when he heard a prowler in here.

He got his .38 caliber revolver from the glove compartment

of his car, which was parked out in the street.

- Mm-hmm. - He then entered the garage...

And gunfire, as they say, ensued.

Mm-hmm.

Dr. Taylor was hit in the hip.

- Where'd they take him? - Mercy.

Does this look like a burglar to you?

Cat burglar, maybe.

I dig the Gucci pumps.

Was there any ID on the deceased?

No, I did a preliminary pat-down.

There was nothing in her pockets,

no wallet, no purse.

He's famous, you know.

Who, Taylor? I never heard of him.

Local hero, sports medicine.

His wife's a famous doctor, too.

Famous dermatologist? I doubt it.

How did you know she was a dermatologist?

Vanity plates.

C-M-P-L-X-N-M-D?

- Yeah, complexion doc. - Ah!

You know... ..."If you can read this you can get a good job"

Well, let's go talk to her.

Maybe she can recommend a good wrinkle cream.

Apparently, your husband shot and killed

the woman who wounded him.

Apparently? Isn't it obvious?

We don't like to jump to conclusions

till we have all the facts.

Is he in trouble?

Not if it was in self-defense.

Uh, so, what happened here tonight?

Alvin went out to the garage to get something from the freezer.

I heard gunshots.

When he came back in, he was bleeding.

He'd been shot.

Said he thought he wounded a prowler, a woman.

He wasn't sure.

It was dark.

He was confused and frightened.

We don't know if she was a prowler.

Not yet.

All right. Do you recognize her?

Why would I?

Uh, maybe she's a neighbor.

Uh, you might have seen her around.

Take a look. It's not graphic.

Oh no.

- Oh. - Do you know her?

Mary.

My sister. My baby sister.

Homicide.

You know, they shell out big bucks for a new conf room.

You'd think they'd spend one nickel on a better-branded Joe.

Same old strange brew.

It's been a month and I still can't wrap my mind around the new layout.

I keep thinking I walked into the wrong squad room.

It's like this dream I had when I was a kid.

First day of school,

wandering around the halls looking for the right classroom.

People are staring at me.

This girl I had a crush on, Helen Rosenthal,

she's laughing and pointing at me.

I realize I didn't get dressed. I'm buck naked.

All I have on is my shoes and socks.

- Black socks? - Argyle.

- I had that dream. - Everybody has that dream.

It's the human condition in a nutshell.

Did you hear from the bank?

They were supposed to call this morning.

They better. Waterfront's falling apart.

The freezer's down. The pump is shot.

It takes longer to draw a pint of lager

than it does to brew one.

Relax, Munchkin. It's a lock.

It's five K. Lunch money.

They'll be honored to loan it to us.

- I hope so. - You floating alone?

- Yeah, capital improvements. - Emergency repairs.

- It ain't that bad. - You going to the kitchen?

The kitchen is immaculate.

You can eat off the floor.

Right.

Payday. Read them and weep.

So, uh, what happened when I, uh...

when I left you and Rene at the Waterfront last night?

Nothing.

She made it right home, didn't she?

- Didn't she? - Hold on a minute.

Let me just explain something.

Me and her had a talk. Two mature adults sat down.

We had a little chat. All right?

- Mm-hmm. - Both agreed.

No hanky-panky, no hoochie-coochie.

No dipping the pen in the company ink.

Well, we're strictly professionals, okay?

Hmm. Yeah.

- Am I right, Rene? - What?

- Partners, huh? Me and you. - You betcha.

- Buddies. - You got it.

- You got my back, I got yours. - Yeah.

You know, all this male plumage on display

is for your benefit.

I see anything I like? I'll send up a flare.

All right.

Hey, Ballard, M-Gee.

Front page of The Sun. Way to go.

Alvin Taylor is one hotshot sports MD.

Doctor to the stars.

We know.

Oh, yeah? What did you know?

He was Sugar Ray's cut man.

- Sugar Ray Leonard? - Sugar Ray Falsone.

Get outta here.

That's my Golden Gloves moniker.

- And Taylor was good, huh? - The best.

You were kind of a bleeder, huh, Paul?

I took a couple stitches. So where's Gharty?

How come he's not working this week?

He's taking some personal time.

He and Flora split up, you know.

Do I ever. My heart goes out.

Ballard! Giardello! In my office.

Giardello?

Whenever my dad called me by my last name,

I knew I was about to be grounded.

You haven't experienced the Giardello summons yet?

The full-force laser beam G-Ray

strips varnish off furniture, enamel off teeth?

- Not yet. - You're in for a treat, Rene.

No, man, that's it. I'm leaving this country.

- What, bad news? - Yeah, I've been levied by the beloved IRS.

I'm moving to Bolivia.

Go on.

The long and short of it is, Suzanne Taylor has no idea

what her sister was doing in the garage with a gun

or why she might have shot her brother-in-law.

Have we talked to Alvin Taylor yet?

Came out of surgery last night,

off the critical list this morning.

We're going out to the hospital now to have a chat with him.

What about the dead woman, the wife's sister?

Mary Coleman, nothing so far.

I hate nothing. Gharty's not back till Tuesday.

Go ahead and work this case.

I already am. That was the primary.

I understand that.

Despite her fresh-faced, useful appearance,

she's a savvy homicide detective.

Pay attention, you might learn something.

I'm sure I will.

Uh, Lieu, Mike caught the call, so--

I don't care.

He's here to lend a hand and act

as a liaison with the FBI.

He's not a Baltimore detective.

He cannot be the primary.

- Got it. - Michael?

I heard you twice the first time.

- You didn't pay your taxes. - I paid my taxes.

My accountant just failed to file them.

See, that's the problem.

You have your cousin as your accountant.

He's also the bar's accountant.

And that's what worries me.

I mean, what were you thinking about, man?

Did you forget? "What is it, April 15th?"

April 15th. I got to do something today."

You know, I don't care if you go to jail.

I just hope that he's been paying the bar's taxes.

Ruin our credit rating.

Hey, don't worry. I'll sort this out.

- We'll get the damn loan. - Yeah, well, we better, Munch,

because if we don't, we're going to be

out of business before the end of the year.

Yeah.

Bayliss, don't give me any zen song and dance

about how money's an illusion.

Taxes are an illusion. The IRS is an illusion.

On the contrary, John.

Money is Mara, the destroyer.

The evil one.

This is where they brought me when I ate a blue crab

and developed a sudden,

adult-onset allergy to shellfish.

You had to go to the hospital for an allergic reaction?

I went into anaphylactic shock and stopped breathing, huh?

This is one tough town, man, I'm telling you.

I've only been here one year and already I have almost died

from eating a local delicacy,

I got shot in the ankle at my own desk,

and that's not even to mention my blind dates.

Nurse Tindeco.

Hey, detective, how are you?

I read about the shootout at police headquarters last May.

Oh, I'm fine, full recovery.

That's terrific. Staying away from crustaceans?

Uh, at least the ones that can't buy me a drink.

How's your partner? Is he back on the job yet?

Yeah, he's just taking a personal break.

We're here to see Alvin Taylor.

Room eight, straight down the corridor.

Tell him to call me.

We were watching a video.

Dark Victory, with Bette Davis.

Suzanne asked me to get her some ice cream from the freezer.

So I went out.

I heard the neighbor's dog barking.

The door to the garage was ajar.

I got my gun out the glove compartment

of my car and eased inside.

Somebody was hiding behind Suzanne's car.

Whoever it was, stood up and aimed at me.

We both fired.

And you didn't recognize her?

It happened so fast.

Then she disappeared behind the car.

I didn't know if I'd hit her or not.

So I dragged myself in the house.

Suzanne called the police.

Do you have any idea why your sister-in-law

would be lurking in the garage in the dark

with a nine millimeter in her hand?

None. I-- I'm completely mystified.

You got along with your sister-in-law?

Sure, fine. You know, in-laws.

Not quite kith, not quite kin.

So, you and your sister-in-law, no animosities?

- Absolutely not. - No recent arguments?

- None whatsoever. - No long-standing grudges?

No suppressed resentments?

I believe I answered your question,

Agent Giardello.

- How's your marriage? - My marriage?

My marriage is superb.

I love my wife. We're devoted to one another.

The weapon that you fired, a .38 caliber Colt?

Bought it last April.

There'd been some break-ins in the neighborhood.

I am so angry with him for buying that gun.

I told him and told him,

this is what happens when you keep firearms around,

this sort of tragic,

senseless, stupid accident.

If he thought there was a prowler in the garage,

why didn't he just come in the house and wait for the police?

Well, your sister had a weapon too.

You're assuming it was hers?

A nine millimeter semi-automatic Glock

was found lying on the floor next to her body.

I thought you didn't like to jump to conclusions.

We're testing for fingerprints and tracing the registration.

- Fingerprints can be forged. - Forged?

Transferred from one object to another.

That would take some expertise,

and why would anyone go through the trouble?

To frame someone? Of course.

If we find your sister's fingerprints

on that nine millimeter, it's a frame-up?

That would be my assumption.

Are you saying she didn't shoot your husband?

If it wasn't her gun, she couldn't have shot him, could she?

If she didn't shoot your husband, who did?

I don't have an explanation for what happened last night.

Perhaps you ought to speak to my husband again.

"Prominent physician convalescing.

Sister-in-law shooting death under investigation."

Oh, this guy's got friends in high places.

He's massaged the mayor's hamstrings,

sewn up the governor's torn Achilles.

We've got to put this case down fast,

or we're going to end up on the Pawn Shop Squad.

Do you really think Taylor thought Mary Coleman was a burglar?

I mean, what if he knew it was her in the garage?

- Gave him an excuse to shoot her. - Why?

He said they got along.

Maybe they were having an affair.

Maybe he even lured her there.

Used trespassing as a pretext to pop her.

What about her gun, the Glock?

I don't know. Maybe she was suspicious of him.

Besides, who says that it was her gun?

You FBI guys never heard of a throw-down case?

Well, his wound was fairly minor.

The only minor gunshot wounds

are those that happen to other people.

No, what I meant is that

it could have been self-inflicted.

Seems to be where the wife was going.

Oh, what a piece of work.

Forged fingerprints, frame-up.

What's that about?

She's distraught about her sister's death.

Can't believe her baby sib would ever be involved in anything shady.

Oh, still, her husband's in the hospital

recovering from a gunshot wound,

and she's busy casting blame in his direction.

Sound like a superb marriage to you?

Sounds about average to me.

Yeah, well, I wouldn't know.

- I've never been married. - Yeah, neither have I.

I have. Three times. What can I say?

I'm just a conk-eyed optimist at heart.

How's Gharty doing?

Oh, well, he says he's fine, which worries me.

Can't believe that divorce would ever be that easy,

especially after 20 or so years.

It ain't. Believe me.

Even if a couple can't wait to split the sheets,

it tears you up.

Poor Gharty. You know, the Irish have a tendency

to internalize their emotions,

unlike us Mediterranean types.

Repression.

You know, it makes them prone to nervous breakdowns,

alcoholism, ulcers.

I'd keep an eye on him if I were you.

Father's Day, birthday, Christmas every freaking year.

Father's Day, birthday,

Christmas, anniversary.

You ever entertain the matrimonial fantasy?

- Well, I've been asked. - And what'd you say?

I said yes, but then I got cold feet.

Didn't feel right.

Was Stivers married? Sheppard?

Nope, both single.

Actually...

...the entire unit is pretty much a bunch of love disasters.

Falsone's divorced, Gharty and Lewis are getting there,

Bayliss is single, Munch has been married three times.

And my father's a widower, lives alone.

Not a solid marriage in the bunch.

Not even a serious relationship.

Yeah, well, cops are a skewed sample.

What about your folks? They, uh, have a good marriage?

Define good.

My mother was devoted to my father.

Weighed on him hand and foot.

She was all about him.

He was all about the job.

She totally supported that.

Though I guess, from his point of view,

it was a great marriage.

Yeah, well, what about from hers?

If he was happy, she was happy.

My, how old-fashioned.

The Zapruder film is out on VHS and DVD,

as if there's a choice.

DVD, definitely.

Gotta have that freeze-frame

stop-action enhancement capability.

And one night after work,

we should open a bottle of Zinfandel

and watch the Zapruder film frame by frame

and see which ones are missing.

26 seconds of the most compelling footage ever filmed.

The woman of my dreams.

Munch.

- Can't wait. - Neither can I.

John.

Hey, Lee, what's the matter?

You're schvitzing. You got a guilty conscience?

Humidity.

Could I have a diet root beer, please?

So, how much do I owe?

30 grand, give or take.

30 grand?

Plus penalties and interest.

How is that possible?

Remember when you renovated your bathroom?

Yeah, it took three times longer than they said it would

and it cost me three times as much.

Well, that overage was money that should have gone

to pay your taxes instead of your contractor.

That was four years ago.

Yeah, once you fall behind,

it's basically hamster on a treadmill time.

You never catch up.

I thought the new IRS

was supposed to be warm and cuddly.

Talk about spin.

I begged Lon Whitecastle not to levy your paycheck.

Told him it was your only way to pay off this debt.

But these IRS guys, they don't listen to logic.

Once they get it in for you...

Wait a minute.

The Internal Revenue Service has it in for me?

The year of speech. Don't be paranoid.

Oh, you don't think paranoia is appropriate at this juncture?

I'd save it for after the audit.

Could I get a turkey club on toast?

He was never really around much anyway.

But after that, he really disappeared.

- What do you mean? - Vanished.

He loved us, of course. Me and my sisters.

But the real, true,

deep, unbreakable connection was between the two of them.

I envy them.

To have that kind of love...

I don't know. I don't know.

Maybe it's not possible in this day and age.

Well, I heard that

you were living with somebody in Arizona.

I was. Jodelle, architect.

We sort of split up six months ago.

Sort of?

Well, I moved out, but we were still sleeping together.

Oh, sex with your ex. It's tricky.

Yeah, tricky, but intense.

- Addictive. - So, where you at now?

I don't know. She's there, I'm here.

I haven't talked to her since I got to Baltimore.

You haven't?

Don't know what to say.

No one's home. Maybe we should come back later.

Well, if she lives alone,

there's not ever going to be anybody home.

You know, we have a warrant, we could kick the door down.

Yeah. But on the other hand, why use force

when guile will do.

Huh!

You can tell people not to use their birthday for a pin number

or to hide the house key in the obvious places.

- But do they listen? - Mmm.

Excuse me.

Can I help you?

Uh, we're investigating the death of Mary Coleman.

- Who are you? - I'm her daughter, Carrie.

Oh, uh, we'd just like to take a little look around?

- Don't let me stop you. - Thank you.

I just came by to get some things for the funeral.

You know, some clothes for her to wear.

How grotesque is that?

She was supposed to go on vacation next week.

- Vegas? - Yeah, she loved to gamble.

It was her passion, her pastime, one true love.

Slots?

Slots, horses, blackjack, poker.

- You name it. - She any good at it?

She put herself through college playing five-card stud.

No kidding.

Yeah, Mama was a card shark.

Mm-hmm.

- She liked the ponies, too. - Pimlico every chance she got.

She wasn't quite as good with ponies

as she was with poker.

Do you have any idea what happened last night?

Not yet. You?

No, I wish I did.

Some kind of weird, terrible accident.

I don't-- I don't know what else it could have been.

Who's Roger? I got post-it slips with Roger's number on it to call.

"Roger called." Phone numbers, faxes, page numbers.

Was-- was Roger her-- her shrink?

Roger was Mama's bookie.

Uh, Is there any bad blood

between your uncle and your mother?

No. No, she was very close to both of them.

My Uncle Alvin bought her this house so she'd be nearby.

He bought the house for her?

How else could she afford to live in this neighborhood?

Why? What did she do for a living?

I told you. She was a gambler.

She was good. But not this good.

Laptop with your latte?

I guess the days of the pool hall bookie are gone.

Modern odds makers got to be online.

You must be Michael.

Hi. You must be Roger.

- This is Laura. - Please, sit.

- Mary Coleman was your customer? - Client.

We hear she liked the ponies. Ponies, pro football.

How much did she owe you?

Close to 100 grand, all told.

That's a lot of money.

Yes and no.

No if she pays it back in a timely fashion.

- Yes, if she don't. - She'd fallen behind?

Further and further.

Far enough behind that somebody would want to

make an example of her?

What do you mean? Whack her?

What? Break her legs? What good would that do?

- Serve as a deterrent to others? - Please.

Since when does someone else's misfortunes deter anyone?

Why was she so in the red?

Just an ordinary streak of bad luck.

You know, she'd had them before.

It's just this time,

she wasn't coming up with a gout to pay her obligations.

In the past, where'd she get the money to cover her losses?

She told me her brother-in-law.

- Alvin Taylor? - Makes sense.

Well-to-do doctor.

Although rumor has it the doctor isn't doing so well these days.

You placed casino bets for Mary Coleman over the internet?

Then you must have used her social security number

as a passkey to access her accounts.

- What do you need? - Credit check.

Hm, so much for the constitutional right of privacy.

You believe in the Easter Bunny too?

Mary Coleman was maxed out on her cards

at the time of her death.

- Look at those cash advances. - Covering her markers.

Not the ones she had with me.

- Mary used other bookies? - She was very promiscuous.

Defaulted on a $50,000 bank loan

against the equity of her house.

Taylor buys her a house, she hocks it to pay off her gambling habit,

and now the bank's gonna take it back?

Couldn't have made him happy.

Nope. Especially since he co-signed the loan.

What are you doing?

Oh, I'm just seeing if I can eat anything

that's not gonna give me, you know,

kidney failure from high sodium intake.

You're into health, aren't you?

Yeah, I was. Just went off the wagon.

I had a nice time talking to you last night at the bar.

Oh, me too.

So, uh, Rene.

So, uh, Tim.

Yeah. Forget it.

What?

Uh, well, you know, it wouldn't really...

Forget it. I don't know.

You know, if...

Wanna go out sometime?

Um, yeah, yeah.

Sure.

But I thought you were gay.

You thought that I was gay.

That's what I heard.

That is just... You know what?

It's just-- it's unbelievable.

I mean, you sleep with a guy, you have sex with him a couple of times,

- and, you know, rumors-- - You're not gay.

I like women.

You like men, too?

Men. Um...

You know, men. Yeah, I like men.

Well, how would you describe yourself?

Sexually.

Um...

Interested in the...

beauty and wonder of the universe.

Uh, open to all of the various

complexities and possibilities of existence.

Bicurious.

I can relate to that.

- You can? - Mm-hmm.

I've gone out with bi guys.

You have? Really?

I'm kind of bicurious myself.

Most women are.

Yeah.

Yeah.

Hey, Ballard, Michael G. What's up?

Hey, Falsone. Just the man we're looking for.

Tell us about Alvin Taylor.

Well, read the papers.

Yeah, well, we want some inside dope.

You know, stuff that might not be public knowledge.

Max Silva. Baltimore Boxing Club.

Grizzle guru of the sweet science.

Lucky for you, me and Max go way back.

- Come on. - Hmm.

Taylor. Best cut man in the business.

You know that, Paul.

Alvin could close a cut and keep it closed.

This was in his prime, mind you.

What, Dr. Taylor's past his prime?

Aren't we all?

Maybe not you, sweetheart, but the rest of us.

Especially this one. Put on some pounds.

What are you now, a cruiserweight?

Get out of here, cruiserweight.

Give me some gloves.

Come on, you got anybody worth sparring with?

Falsone.

Luis, get this guy some gloves

and take him to the woodshed, will you?

Cocky little S.O.B.

Oh, you are not serious.

Oh, yes, I am.

I'll tell you something, I might suck at hoops,

but in here, watch my footwork.

I'll knock this pachuco on his culo.

I hope you break your nose.

So, Taylor wasn't working so much?

Big purse is pretty much dried up for him a few years ago.

Word was, he lost his touch.

Did Taylor make a lot of money working at Bites?

Cab fare.

He made his bread and butter

peddling steroids to fighters.

I found out, I tossed his butt in the street.

Barred him from the gym.

Come on, Pablito, show me what you got.

Watch this.

Attaboy, Luis!

Show that flat-footed, lard-ass, eyetie police how it's done.

I wish someone would look at me that way.

Huh? [scoffs] Come on.

Girl, that expression on your face

is illegal in some states.

Come on, Luis! Take him down!

I think Paul could use some of Dr. Taylor's cut magic

right about now.

Luis, that's nothing. That's just a scratch.

Come on, Falsone, punch him!

Or jab him, or something!

Oh, my God!

Oh, yeah!

This has got to be one of the deepest,

darkest circles of Dante's Inferno.

Just relax.

Look at you. You relax.

You're about to have a cerebral incident.

I'm not nervous.

What do you bet this guy is like?

A flaming pipsqueak.

Five-foot-two, 30 pounds, overweight, bad hair,

plugged, dandruff, end-stage halitosis.

I wouldn't underestimate him, John.

Mr. Munch, won't you come in?

What's happened with the Taylor-Coleman case?

- Any progress? - Well, I'm checking phone records.

Stivers is following up leads on local street-level arms dealers.

Ballard is tracing Mary Coleman's Glock.

Look, I didn't ask for a blow-by-blow account

of how you're spending your time.

You may have had to turn that with the Bureau,

but you don't have to cover your ass with me.

All I want to know is if you found anything.

Well, Lieu, it's my case.

Why don't I fill you in?

Phone call from Taylor's to Coleman's number

15 minutes before the incident.

Well, who's been calling Coleman, the husband or the wife?

We don't know. Neither of them mentioned speaking to her that evening.

Well, then you haven't found anything yet.

All right, now fill me in.

Mary Coleman's Glock is hot.

It was stolen in a home burglary out in the county last year.

- And sold again on the street. - Exactly.

Print of prints?

- The lab's still working on them. - All right.

Look, find out who the dealer was

who sold the Glock, find out who he sold it to,

and keep me in the loop.

Don't make me have to look for you

to get an update on your investigation.

Is he always this harassing?

Pretty much.

Hey, I just heard from a guy I know.

He saw the pictures in the paper.

Has information in a cell about someone looking to buy a handgun.

Great. We'll go talk to him.

The thing is, he's got something going on the side.

You've got to promise to look the other way, especially you.

His sideline's a federal offense?

Could be. He brokers the occasional handgun.

I'm not interested in middlemen.

- Okay. - Let's boogie.

Yeah.

Hey, hey, Sugar Ray.

Good looks for you, Falsone.

Yeah, well, you should see the other guy.

I did. Not a mark on him.

What are you talking about?

You see me dump that chump on his boot up?

Rave on there, champ.

I give that two-bit beluga a little stars and tweety birds.

He's still hearing bells and whistles.

I think he likes you.

Oh, God, I don't even register on his radar.

Ha!

Do you think?

Hey, we're friends of Terri Stivers'.

She said you had something for us?

You got something for me?

About a month ago, a lady came in here looking for a piece.

Said it was for protection.

So I told her where she can find something to suit her needs.

Yeah, that's her.

Mary Coleman. Where'd you send her?

Lemonhead Boggs.

Services the neighborhood.

Man, no supermarket, no bank.

But, hey, you can always buy a gun.

Where can we find this Lemonhead?

Try around the corner. Armando's Nouvelle Coffee House.

Anybody here seen Lemonhead?

I gotta tell you, I loved saying that.

You don't get colorful street names at the Bureau?

Nothing like Lemonhead.

Let me say it again. Lemonhead!

- What? - Know her?

Funny, her picture's been all over the news the past couple days.

Don't care for the news. It's too depressing.

Well, take another look.

She bought a gun from you about a month and a half ago.

Nine millimeter Glock.

Don't know where you get your information from

because I don't sell guns.

We don't care about that. We're working a murder.

We're not looking to hurt you.

Look, I'm getting my dome done here.

Do you mind?

I got another idea. Come on.

So, Mary Coleman, who hates guns by all accounts,

takes target practice

three days before she shoots her brother-in-law.

Why would she want to kill him? There's got to be a reason.

Homicide in a family almost always one of two things.

- Money or love. - Oh, money, I understand.

Why, you wouldn't kill for love?

Would you?

Oh, you're scaring me now.

We have evidence that Mary Coleman bought a gun

and was learning how to use it just before the incident.

I can't think of any reason why she would do that.

Or why she would want to harm me.

Your sister-in-law racked up

some pretty big gambling debts recently.

I'm not going to discuss Mary's private life with you.

You didn't cover her losses over the years?

That's family business, not yours.

Do you have a life insurance policy, doctor?

- Of course. - Your wife being the beneficiary?

- Naturally. - Not your sister-in-law?

Wait a minute. What are you getting at here?

- Some sort of motive? - Is it a sizable policy?

Again, my finances are none of your concern.

We can subpoena your records.

What about the loan she defaulted on?

- What loan? - The one you co-signed for her.

I didn't co-sign any loan.

Against the house you bought her?

No, absolutely not.

Detectives.

Dr. Taylor.

Suzanne, honey.

Do you know anything about some equity loan

that Mary took out against her house?

No. First I've heard of it.

How are you feeling? Ready to go home?

- Champing at the bit, baby. - Hmm.

How do you throw your back out meditating?

Uh, you know, you sit zazen

for hour and a half straight in the Zendo,

and, you know,

I tried to leap up too quickly

off my zafu cushion,

and zing went the strings on my sciatica, huh?

Okay?

So how's it going with Sheppard?

It's a total meltdown. She handed me my lunch.

When you asked around? On the basketball court.

Cleaned my clock. It wasn't even close.

So that's it.

A woman beats you in a game, and you lose all interest.

Hell, yes.

After what she did to me,

I'd be a little worried that I couldn't,

you know, dunk it, jam it,

take it to the hole when the game was on the line.

I am so glad I'm not a man.

Yeah, well, I'm glad you're not a man, too.

I'd miss all those unique insights

you give me into the female psyche.

- Crude. - Who?

- Falsone? - No.

Taylor's signature on this life insurance loan application.

Obviously forged. Ballistics?

Well, bullet from Taylor's hip

matches the Glock and Taylor's .38 shot Coleman.

Oh, she fired, he fired. I hate these kind of cases.

Taylor has a sizable life insurance policy.

Beneficiary is his wife. And then his sister-in-law.

Pass Go, collect dough, pay off your bookie.

Hmm.

Hey, Lusko.

What you got on the Taylor-Coleman shootings?

We lifted some partials off the nine millimeter

that definitely match the dead woman.

And Trace Analysis called.

Found powder residue on the right hand.

So, Coleman fired the Glock.

No questions. Shot Alvin Taylor.

There's another set of prints on the barrel and the grip.

- Whoa, whose? - Don't know.

I eliminated Alvin Taylor.

No match in the database.

Okay, thank you.

Yeah, what you say we take another run at finding

the schmo who sold Coleman the hot Glock?

Well, let's squeeze Lemonhead, maybe we can refresh his memory.

It's $300.

What you got? Let me see what you got.

Come on, man. I ain't got all day

My man, Lemonhead. The good humor man.

- How's business? - What's this?

You're rolling stock?

Now, I told you all I sold that lady no handgun.

Not that I sell handguns.

Federal agent.

I can have an ATF posse down here in ten minutes.

You know about taking a Federal fall.

Mandatory sentences, no real possibility of parole,

no night light in your cell.

All right, all right. What?

You sell this woman a handgun?

I could tell you yes.

But I'd be lying just to save my ass.

Besides, why she gotta buy a gun off the corner?

Suburban type woman like her can get one legal.

You sure you never ever get anybody down here

like that looking for something without a warranty?

Yeah, about a month ago I had a lady down here.

I told her she might get her car jacked.

Before I could finish ringing up the sale,

She said, "Don't worry, who'd be dumb enough

to jack a car with vanity plates?"

I said, "A lot of crack heads can't read."

Wait. Hey, oh, vanity plates?

Yeah, some kind of doctor or something.

Yeah, that could be her.

Maybe.

On the bounce, baby.

Yeah, on the bounce.

Suzanne Taylor.

Now, what would a dermatologist

be wanting with a handgun?

Well, like you said...

it's a tough town.

We can get a court order for fingerprints

from Suzanne Taylor.

We think that they will match the second set of prints

from Coleman's Glock,

which she used to shoot her brother-in-law.

Will this Lemonhead Boggs character testify that

he sold that particular weapon to Suzanne Taylor?

If we jam him on another charge and then offer him a deal.

He's no choir boy. He's definitely dealing handguns.

If both women handled the weapon that Boggs sold

to Suzanne Taylor, and Boggs testifies,

maybe we have a conspiracy.

Hmm. They thought they were being so clever.

Mary made the inquiries while Suzanne made the actual purchase.

Suzanne calls her sister,

tells Mary to hide in the garage and ambush Alvin.

15 minutes later, she asks Alvin

to go to the garage and get her some ice cream.

He goes outside, he hears the neighbor's dog barking,

becomes suspicious, grabs his .38.

Which the wife didn't know he had.

He enters the garage,

confronts who he thinks would be an intruder,

shots are fired, he's wounded, his sister-in-law is dead.

I'll get your court order for Suzanne Taylor's prints

as a material witness.

If they match, we'll arrest her.

Conspiracy to commit murder.

Mmm. Let's print the bitch. All right.

- Good work. - Thanks.

This ink has got to be terrible for your skin.

Toxic. Carcinogenic, probably.

It washes off with soap and water.

Whose bright idea was this, I wonder?

You know you can't question me until the lawyer arrives.

I bet Mary thought of it first.

You know, forge your husband's signature,

get the loan, then kill him for the life insurance.

Yeah, must have been her idea.

She was the one that needed the money.

Please, detective, don't try to beguile me.

I'm immune to your charms.

See, what I don't understand

is how did she get you to go along with it?

You know, your husband said that you had a superb marriage

and that you were devoted to one another,

so I don't understand how she talked you into it.

He said what?

Yeah, those were his words, weren't they?

"Superb. Devoted."

Alvin.

How was the audit?

Well, they didn't ask for my firstborn.

Ouch. How bad was it?

They want $1,000 a month for three years.

You'll have to get a second job.

- I have a second job. - A second second job.

Hey, Mike, you know anybody in the IRS?

- IRS? - Hey, don't go there.

I'm looking for information on an IRS agent.

Address, phone number, marital status.

But you want me to dig up some dirt on an IRS agent?

Isn't there some super-secret federal database

that you could access?

What are you, nuts? You don't mess with the IRS.

But you're FBI. You could stand toe-to-toe with these guys.

I could. The question is, why would I?

Leave it alone, Munchkin.

It's not like I'm gonna stalk the guy, Mike.

I just need an edge.

How's your time off?

Spent it over at the house, packing my things.

Oh, Stuart.

How many years in that crummy little box?

18, 19? A lot of stuff.

I'm so glad to be out of there.

Place was like a pressure cooker, you know?

The old-fashioned kind

that blew the beans all over the ceiling

when you took the top off.

Flora around?

No, she cleared out. Went to the mall.

- Shopping therapy. - Yeah, on my card.

Ask you a question?

You dating, uh, Munch?

- Mm-hmm. - Exclusively?

- We're not married. - Neither am I.

Uh, almost.

Call me when you're all the way there.

Okay.

So this is the waterfront, huh?

Yep. Just stay away from any sticky surfaces.

You'll be okay.

Hey, Billie Lou, have you met Mike Giardello?

- Pleased to meet you. - And you.

What are y'all having? Bourbon with a beer back?

Uh, no, I wish. I'm still on the clock.

How about a ginger ale?

Bitters and soda, please.

So, Stu, Gina Tindeco says to say hello.

And that you should call her.

- Gina the nurse? - Uh-huh.

I have such a crush on her.

I thought you had your sights set on Billie Lou.

- Oh, I do. - Slut.

I'm a born-again romantic.

I'm free to flirt, free to fall in love.

Yeah, let me tell you something, Stu.

A middle-aged man hitting on a young woman

is not one of nature's prettier pictures.

Oh, yeah?

Cheers.

Will you guys close the Coleman case?

Getting there.

Uh, wife's prints were on the sister's gun.

We have a bail hearing in half an hour.

Huh. Congratulations.

Don't get too cozy.

I'll be back at my desk tomorrow.

Don't worry, I'm not poaching your partner.

Well, as long as it's understood.

- Hey, guys. - Hey, Rene.

Stu.

I suppose you have a mad crush on her, too,

just like everybody else?

Sheppard? Uh-uh.

- Please, she's gorgeous. - She's not my type.

She's too skinny, too much hair.

- Let's go to court. - Mm-hmm.

Now you, on the other hand.

Ready for another?

Can I buy you one?

Absolutely.

All right.

Can you believe that?

Woman tries to kill him and he posts her bond?

Half a million bucks. He put their house up.

I'd want a man to do that for me.

If you tried to kill a man,

would you want him to bail you out?

No, not just any man.

My lover, my husband.

Sorry, I think it's romantic.

I think it's perverse.

True love, huh?

The happy couple.

Doesn't look too grateful to him for bailing her out.

Yeah, well, she's still steamed

he bought the gun and ruined her scheme.

We know what her defense is going to be.

She already tried it on us.

Put the blame on him, create a reasonable doubt.

That's a good strategy.

It might work. Who knows?

You women must believe we're all such saps.

Oh, I guess we are at that.

It's not your fault. It's the hard-wiring.

Yeah, that's some consolation.

You should call Jodelle. Let her know how you're feeling.

If I knew, I would.

Well, so what? You talk it through.

I guess.

You should tell Falsone next time you see him.

I thought men didn't like that.

A beautiful woman tells you that she has the hots for you?

What's not to like?

I wouldn't quite put it that way.

Say any less and you won't get his attention.

Well, maybe I will. It's worth a shot.

Sure. What do you got to lose?

My self-respect, my dignity.

Oh, what does self-respect and dignity

- have to do with love? - Right.