All language subtitles for Due South s04e07 Mountie Sings The Blues.eng

- These orders are from the minister
of Industry, Trade and Commerce.

- I see they're classified, Sir.
- Yes. Well, no.

I have my own stamp.
- Yeah.

- Canada's sweetheart
needs protecting.

- They feel her life may be in danger
while she's in Chicago?

- Danger! Like those pencil-necked
geeks would know danger

if it jumped up and pierced
their spleen with an ice pick.

I know danger.

I live danger.
- Indeed you do, Sir.

We will not be part of any...

What is that noise?

...part of any publicity circus.

My command here in Chicago

has been characterized
by one word... dignity.

- Hello, Sir... I was just
freshening up the Regal suite.

- You are not a char lady, Turnbull,
you are a member

of the Royal Canadian...

Ooo, ooo, it's them, it's them.

Good afternoon, and welcome...

It's clear. Bring her in.

Earl Jeffers... I head up security.

- My name is Constable
Benton Fraser,

Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
I...

- You came looking for the guy
that killed your father.

I've seen your file.
- I see.

Good afternoon,
and welcome to the...

Oh, ho, it's Tracy.

...Canadian consulate,

- This was faxed to the hotel last
night from somewhere in Chicago.

- "If I can't have you,
no one will. "

- It's a death threat?
- Possibly.

- Did you check the number?
- The Cyber-grind,

an Internet computer joint.
- Oh, over on Madison.

- That's the one.
Any creep could have sent it.

You should keep your head down.

- George, look...
- Tracy, I agree with Earl.

We got some wacko
out here on the loose.

- Look, I'm playing The Music Hall.
End of discussion.

You're a star.

- The problem is he won't
book me in a small club.

He's always booking me
in front of 50 or 60,000...

Not a paying customer

can get close enough
to even see if it's me.

I just, I can't see
their faces, George.

Music is about getting
closer to the people.

- Well, indeed it is,
but I think, in this case,

Mr. Monroe's advice is prudent.

This letter demonstrates
all the characteristics

of an obsessive compulsive disorder,
coupled with delusional symptoms

and an escalating
pathological desire.

- Back home, we don't trust
a man who talks too much.

- Where I'm from, we don't
trust a man who leaves home

without a knife, compass
and some beef jerky.

What time are you scheduled

to arrive at the club?
- 8:30.

Here she comes, here she comes.

Across the street!

MacAfferty.

Ahh...

They said the vest was
just a formality, Vecchio.

You okay?

- Ohh, my shoulder hurts
like hell.

- Gun fired.
Officer down, officer down!

- I can't believe this bullet
was meant for me.

- Yeah, for you.
- And the officer?

- They're keeping her overnight
in hospital. She'll be okay.

- What's her name? I don't
even know what her name is.

MaCafferty. Officer MaCafferty.

And this was found at the scene.

- We send those out to fans
by the thousands.

- Dewey, take this stuff
down to forensics.

I want a full report by 9:00.
- You got it.

- I'm sorry, George.
I should have listened to you.

- How is she?
- Tracy?

- Tracy?
- Yeah, we're, we're tight.

- So she's...
- She's good.

I knew it. She's a fighter.

- Tracy Jenkins, wow.
- Yeah.

Wow? What, you like her music?

Duh... Yeah, I love her music.

- How can you like country music?
- Oh...

Ms. Vecchio,
the mournful longings,

the lament for a better life.

Some ethnomusicologists
refer to country music

as the white man's blues.

- Blues?
- Sure... Look at me.

- Country music is nothing
but pick-up trucks, trains

and donkeys, okay?

- Donkeys... right, okay,
why don't you name

one song with donkeys in it?

Pff, please, there's millions.

Oh, yeah? Name one.

- We'll continue
on the fan stalker angle.

You have a list of the fan club,
the Chicago branch,

maybe we might get lucky.
- Got the data base in my laptop.

- What about fan mail?
- The actual letters?

They're in Nashville at the office.
- How soon can you get them here?

- Tomorrow morning.
- Good.

All right, for your own safety,

don't go back to your hotel
till we get this guy off the street.

- Sir, I think Ms. Jenkins
will be safe

and comfortable
at the Canadian consulate.

And she's obviously very welcome.

If you'll excuse me for one minute.

- Yee-hee-hee!
- What the hell was that?

The sound of a grown man

squealing in a manner
not becoming

a member of the Royal
Canadian Mounted Police.

Oh, Turnbull.

Donkey Kong Angels.

That's Honky Tonk Angels.

Kitty Wells... I don't think
she was singing

about video games
back in the '50s.

- You can't go in there.
- Yeah? Just watch me.

Look, I said, you just...

- Is there a problem?
- Yes.

- Why don't you take a 20,
sweetheart, all right?

I'm looking for my wife.

Baby.
- That's far enough, Dwight.

It's okay.

I got to hear this on the radio?

You can't call me?

- There's lots of bars between
here and Tennessee.

Guess I didn't know
which to call.

Oh, that's cold, baby.

Because you know if anything
ever happened to you...

- Listen, get him to the hotel.
Would you do that?

Then we'll deal with him later.

- What? Wait a minute. What, what?
You're going to deal with me?

You're going to deal with me?
Who wrote the tune, huh?

- That's enough, Dwight.
- Who wrote the damn tune?!

- That's enough!
You're going home!

What happened to gratitude, huh?

Drop it, Dwight. Come on.

Ah, welcome.

In honour of your stature
as the queen of country music,

I have prepared the Regal suite.

And, oh, um, also,
on behalf of your privacy,

I intercepted a number
of messages.

A man named Sid called about,

uh, oh, I don't know...
I sent him packing.

Uh, a reporter
looking for an interview.

I also sent him packing.

And a very curious conversation
with a man named

"The Coast"... something
about a movie thingy.

Uh, Turnbull?

Ms. Jenkins has had
a very full day.

- Say no more, Sir. This calls
for something calming.

Some Saskatoon berry tea.

I'm sorry, he's, uh...

Well, shall we?

Your life sounds very busy.

- Well, George has a motto,
you know.

Busy's bigger, bigger's better.

I think he's got it tattooed
somewhere, actually.

I love George, but I wonder what
happened to the simple things.

- I often ask myself
the same question.

- Thanks for tonight.
- Oh, it was nothing.

You saved my life, Fraser,
thank you.

You, uh...

...my cheek.

Right, uh...

It's 16 stairs here
to the landing.

Follow me, please.

All right, everybody, listen up.

I have a medical update
on officer MaCafferty.

She sustained some muscle
damage to her right arm,

but she's going to be just fine.

- Uh, they checked out
the Cyber-grind cafe and nothing.

Mind you, those space cadets
couldn't ID Monica Lewinsky

if she was interning for them.

- Keep up the hard work.
Let me know if Monica shows up.

Uh, Frannie, what did you get?

Pff, listen to this.

From Russia.

"Dear Tracy, you have been
an eyesore to us

these past three months
in our sensory canal.

We flatter you,
O courageous queen.

I Can Love Again is for us,
the gate key

to leave Siberia
and become super models. "

Signed Olga and Vaselina.

Vaselina, super models,

they got a return address
on there?

Why are you cheapening this?

Listen to what they're saying.
That song gave them hope.

- Yeah, like you hope there's
no donkey in a country song.

- 50 bucks.
- You're on.

You know, letter writing

can sometimes be
something of an art.

- Yeah, and some
are just plain creepy.

- Mmm.
- You know what?

You know what we should do?

- What?
- We should write one.

Write what? A letter?

- No. A country song.
How hard can it be?

Yeah... it could be fun, huh?

We could cut a CD.
- Watch it go platinum.

- Or we could make
some real money.

Write some jingles and have
the song used in a commercial.

- I'm not going to allow my music
to be prostituted like that.

I'm not going to compromise
my principles.

- Please,
you don't have any music,

or principles.

Now, this group is harmless,

this group is threatening
to some degree,

and... thank you, Dief...

This pile, Diefenbaker found
to be particularly offensive.

Hey, check this one out.

Guy here sends a stack
of lottery tickets,

so that she can bless them.

- Why not send them to the pope?
- He can't carry

a tune in a bucket...
Who's the freaks?

Well, we got a wide assortment,

but it seems the most dedicated
one is a Mr. Carver Dunn.

- Oh, he's a home-town boy.
- Look at this.

Over 114 letters written over

a three-month period,

all of them ending with,
"Your one true love. "

- Hang on a second.
You got a copy of that fax?

Mm-hmm, is there a connection?

- Uh, same lingo.
Run them, Frannie.

Lingo is, uh,

well, it's a tenuous connection,
Ray.

Tenuous? Look.

"If I can't have you,
no one will. "

"If I can't have you,
no one will. "

- Yes, but Ray, these letters,
I mean,

apart from being a testament
to the sad and lonely absurdity

of man's cruel fate,
are relatively benign;

whereas this fax is a virtual
torrent of mental illness.

- Look at this... Carver Dunn,
disturbing the peace,

loitering.

- Who gets busted for loitering?
- Fruitcakes.

Uh-huh.

- He's got a restraining order
against him.

- Forbidding him to go within 100
yards of Linda Lawless... singer.

Well, it would appear

that perhaps I was, uh...
- Wrong.

And that maybe we should, uh...

- Pick him up.
- Pick him up.

- I'm a wacko.
Who'd give a wacko a permit?

- State of Florida seems to have
a loose approach to gun ownership.

- You ever been to Florida?
- Once, to see Mickey.

Did he give you a gun?

- He's a mouse, Mister, I was 6.
Where's my lawyer?

- How about we give him
a paraffin test?

See if he fired a weapon recently.
- Won't work, Ray... peroxide.

- I dyed my mother's hair.
That's not a crime.

- In the state of Illinois, yes,
it is, pal...

It's a crime to be
your mother's hairdresser.

- I'm not a hairdresser,
I'm a stylist.

- "If I can't have you, no one will. "
Did you write this?

- There's a fan club. You're asked
to write. That's not a crime.

- A police officer was shot.
Attempted murder. That is a crime.

- Vecchio!
Mr. Dunn has lawyered up.

- Oh, well, very, very sorry.
Terrible, terrible mistake.

Let's go. You're free to go.

Thanks a lot for coming.
Bye-bye.

Your parking will be validated
at the door. Thank you.

You're letting him go?

He's written a million letters,
tried to put a bullet in her,

and you're letting him go.

- I'll have two of my best men
parked outside his house, but now,

we have nothing that places him
at the scene of the shooting.

Unless we have some solid
evidence

we can take to the state's
attorney's office,

there's not much more we can do.
- Until she's dead.

Is that what you're saying?

Cops.

- It's called
I Won't Be Home For Supper

Because They're A-gonna
Hang Me Tonight.

It's a story song that blends

the world of horticulture
with the world of bank robbery.

Tracy, you ready?

- Excuse me, but this is
a non-smoking environment.

- This is a cigar. We got
a half hour to the session.

- I can sing it in a heartbeat.
- Band's set to go.

- I could do it in double time.
- All right, guys.

- Tracy...
- Listen, he's a songwriter.

You never know where my next
hit record's going to come from.

Go on to the car,
I'll be right out.

You da boss.

- So, Constable, how many verses
in this song of yours?

Oh.

21... and a half.

She's a fallen angel

She's just flesh and bone

She's the rock of ages

She's a rolling stone

She's nobody's girl

She walks this road alone

Nobody's girl

- Just a touch flat on that,
Arlene.

Let's take another run at it.

Any sign of Carver yet?

No, nothing yet.
- Call if he sticks his head out.

Don't call me for supper
If you don't mean to feed me

Don't tell me you love me
With that gun in your hand

What do you think of that?

- I don't know.
What does it mean?

Is he going to shoot her or what?

- How would I know?
- You wrote it.

- It's a song. It's not supposed
to mean anything.

- 'course it does. It's a song.
That's the point of songwriting.

It's supposed to have
significance.

She's nobody's girl

She walks this road alone

Nobody's girl

Still a little flat on that one.

- I'm sorry. I can get the note.
- Question is, when?

500 an hour, I'm not sure
I want to know the answer.

George, the Mike was still on.

- How 'bout we take five,
everybody?

Five? Great.

That's another 41.66.

I know she's not great, but...

I've heard worse.

- Worse, you've killed a pig
with your bare hands?

- George, there's no call to be
so mean. Do you mind, guys?

Dief.

- I thought she was pretty good.
- Good as in attractive?

I don't care.

- Look, her name
is Arlene Williams.

From the band that opened
for us in Minneapolis.

Remember they had a regional hit?
- Look, I hire the talent, Dwight.

Always have, always will.

- Oh, well, hey, God forbid
that the great Tracy Jenkins

would need anybody else's help.

Hey, what you doing there, son?

- Well, it just occurred to me
that if the song were moved up

A minor third, it might ease
the tempo and release the vocal.

- And that just occurred to you?
Yes, Sir.

- Dwight, this girl
may have a talent.

Since it doesn't seem
to be singing,

maybe you'd tell me
what her talent is.

- How cold is that
heart of yours, baby?

How hard would it be

to allow me to contribute
every now and then?

Contribute? Contribute?

Your contribution
turns out to be a girl

who couldn't hold a tune
with handcuffs.

- Am I talking to you, huh?
Do I ever talk to you?

- The issue's dead, guys.
Arlene quit.

Nice work, George.

Good management there, buddy.

Why don't you go out there
and see if you can't

lose the rest of the band
while you're on a roll?

Nobody's girl

She knows she's on

Her own in this world

- You sing.
- Me? Sing? No.

No, no, no...

No... well, when
I was a child, and we...

Church choirs... if we were
within sledding distance.

- That minor third idea, that's
a great idea. Get him a mike.

- Boys, we're going to try
a little something here.

It's a little bit country,
and it's a little bit rock and roll.

Oh, no, no, no. I mean, I-I-I...

- Kind of a high maintenance job,
huh?

Running security for...

artistes.

- Ha, yeah, well, it's better
than my last job.

Worked homicide 10 years...
Memphis P.D.

Mmm. Memphis.

You ever meet Elvis?

Yep, couple days ago.

He's a nice guy.

Bit Tubby.

Tubby.

Ms. Vecchio.

- Turnbull.
- I got your message.

- You could have just
called me back.

- Well, you said it was important,
and it's only 97 blocks.

- Listen, um, you're kind of
a country music expert, right?

I am a buff, yes.

A devotee, possibly
aficionado, but an expert,

Ha, ha, you flatter me.
- Okay, whatever, listen,

I got 50 bucks riding on this.

Do you know of any songs
about donkeys?

- I'll certainly put
my mind to it.

Great. Thanks.

- Uh, oh, if you'll do me
the favour of allowing me

to convince you of the depth
and resonance of country music.

- Well, I'm kind of busy
right now.

- Uh, well, perhaps, um,
during your lunch,

maybe we could
have a beverage.

Uh, non-alcoholic,
caffeine free, sugarless.

Y- you mean, like a date?

A date? Uh, a date. Uh, wow.

Ha, ha, a date. Um...

Possibly, perhaps.

- Um... I-I-I just can't
leave the building,

and I'm kind of working
through lunch.

Say no more.

She's a fallen angel

She's just flesh and bone

She's the rock of ages

She's a rolling stone

She's nobody's girl

She walks this road alone

Nobody's girl

She calls her soul her own

Nobody's girl

She knows she's on her own
In this world

She's nobody's girl

- That man has the rhythm
of a stick.

Come on, Fraser.

Do something... move.

She's some kind of saint

And if her hands are dirty

- You said you couldn't
leave the building,

and I have a friend who lives
nearby,

so I borrowed his kitchen
to whip you up...

- So, is this like a prerequisite
for being a Mountie?

You just have to be
completely nutty.

I mean, I was just thinking
of a hot dog from a street vendor.

- Oh, no, no, the fecal matter
count is far too high,

far too high.

Do you like poetry, Ms. Vecchio?

Poetry?

Yeah, yeah, I like poetry.

"We are the hollow men.

We are...

...the fulfilled guys.

Yeah, I love poetry.
- Oh, I'm glad.

I'm so very glad,

because you see, country music
is the poetry of the people.

Unaffected, heartfelt.

It has great strength
and beauty.

And if you love the tender muscle
of the English language,

you have to love a man
for simply saying,

"You are always on my mind. "

I am always on your mind?

I know of a mule.

You do?

Different from a donkey,

genetically speaking,

but metaphorically
very agreeable.

Walter Brennan,
That Mule Old River's In Me.

I was always on your mind?

- Must be the uniform.
- Isn't that so adorable?

- You should sign this guy up.
- I just might.

- You looked good,
I mean damn good.

- Thank you, Mr. Muddy.
- Yeah, keep rockin'.

- Excuse me.
- Forensics got a partial print,

nothing usable... You seen Earl?
- No, I was...

- Moving like a block of wood.
- I'm sorry.

- Singing like a bird.
- Really?

- I didn't tell you
what kind of bird.

Anyone seen Tracy?

Do you mind if I talk to you

Do you mind if I speak
Do you mind if I speak

Do you mind if I speak

I would like to be Frank
Your cooking is wretched

This coffee's rank.

Perfect. This coffee

No, no, this coffee is rank.

Who cares? It rhymes.

Yeah?

- Watch it! Do not let him
move out of the house.

We may have lost her.

I say "may have lost her. "

We have lost her.

First you

Want it slow

Then you want it fast

You know that I give you
whatever you ask

Now baby you got me

Wherever you want me...

- Did you get the underpants?
- Stockings.

- You said underpants.
- I said stockings.

- You wouldn't be forgetting
about those

racketeering charges in Memphis
now,

would you, Mister?

- I was in Yellow Springs once,
Ohio,

sitting across the table
from a guy kind of like you.

A little diddler.

It didn't take much.

Two hands, short move.

Both his eyeballs were
hanging out of his sockets.

What are you trying to say?

- Check the statute
of limitations.

As of tomorrow,
I'm off the hook.

- Oh, well, maybe your boss
would like to know tonight.

See, this is how it works.

You put your thumbs here.

Then you pop the eyes like
you're opening a can of beer.

I see your eyes swinging
on your cheeks.

All you see is your boots.

Will there be anything else?

Just the cheque, please.

They fit him like a perfect...

Baby are you strange...

- Well, I was working the floor
alone

on account of Doreen had
some kind of foot fungus thing,

which is typical, and there was
the normal bunch of creeps...

And, oh, we had a special party.

It was a stag for a guy named
Smith,

and then the dead guy
who ordered for one.

"Double bacon, double cheese,

double mayo. " That's not healthy.
- Better than a bullet.

- Does this time code here
indicate

the time he paid?
- No, that's the time I rang it in.

The guy died before he paid me,
which is typical.

So now I'm out 8.99.

He didn't have any loose bills
on him, did he?

- No, but I'd be happy
to take care of that.

- Oh, is this Canadian?
- Yes, it is.

- Better make it a hundred.
- Ray.

You were writing a song?

The prime suspect in the
shooting of a police officer

eluded surveillance because
you were writing a song?

We'll revisit this momentarily.

Do we have anything that places
Carver at the scene of the crime?

Is there evidence that anybody

was at the crime scene?
- There were 23 other men

at the club...
Unfortunately their attention

was largely diverted
by a number of women

who were performing what I'm told
is a form of modern dance.

- The waitress figured that the,
um,

dead guy was waiting
for someone.

That would be Carver Dunn,

who miraculously slipped
through our usually

vice-like police dragnet
and managed

to get to club at 3:35.
- Sir, according to the reports,

everybody who knew the deceased
had opportunity.

Including Tracy Jenkins.

- Who also miraculously
slipped through

our usually vice-like police dragnet.
- Yes, Sir, but we had...

or rather, I had become
momentarily blinded

by the bright lights
of the music business.

- Is that so?
- Yes, Sir.

And you?

You know my eyes, Sir.

But we're working
on another angle.

- Good, good, good,
that's encouraging.

How about you guys?
You got anything?

Actually, we're pretty close.

- Yes, Sir.
"There's a house we call love

built next door to hate.

And both of them got lawns
with a white picket gate.

Their taxes don't differ
and their water's the same. "

For one more line,
we got that chorus.

Right.

- Oh, you meant in terms
of police work.

I see, ahem, okay.

- Yo, Ray, this guy,
Mr. Brown Smith Jones

dropped this off for you.
- Thank you kindly.

- Ha, what losers.
This stag party really sucks.

Here it is, top of the frame.

He was expecting someone.

- Couple more seconds,
we would have had it.

We may still have it.

There's your man.
- Pick him up.

- Now, sweetheart, I want you
to get some sleep.

First thing in the morning,

we'll try and patch things up
with Dwight.

The man loves you in his own way,
and as crazy

as he makes me,
he did write the tune.

He's always been
part of the team.

- But, George, what about Earl?
Wasn't he part of the team?

Yes, darling, he was.

And what happened to him
is a sad, sad thing.

If I sound casual about it,
believe me,

I don't feel casual.

And that's why you running off
like you did today

scares me half to death.
- I feel I'm living in a fish bowl,

and it's driving me crazy.
- I know, I know,

and that's why I'm going
to look at all the bookings.

I'm going to find you
some breathing room.

In the meantime, you stay here,
stay safe, stay put.

Let the Mountie look after you.

I'll call you first thing
in the morning.

Get some sleep.

Hi. I hope this isn't too forward.

I was just having some trouble
sleeping

and I heard your guitar.
- Oh, no, no, no, please.

To be entirely truthful, I was
having difficulty sleeping also.

- Entirely truthful, well,
that's a concept.

Would you like a drink?

- Oh, no, thank you,
I don't drink...

Unless it's the obligatory toast
to the Queen's health.

So you don't lie

and you don't drink.
- No.

You're a rare specimen,

Constable.

- I shouldn't think so.
You know not all men are...

Like my husband Dwight?

You know, underneath it all,
he's a good man.

He wrote my first hit song,
Scaredy Cat.

We never called it
by the title, though.

We've always just called it
"The Tune. "

But I'm grateful for that song.

How did you get started singing?

- 16 years old, the first time
I stepped foot on stage.

Flin Flon, Manitoba.

There was about 20 people
in the audience,

but I knew right then what
I was going to do with my life.

It just seems so far away now.

It's gotten so complicated.

Were you at the Stratenger
building today?

I'm divorcing Dwight.

My lawyers are there.
How did you know?

Pine needle.

They have a magnificent
northern pine in the lobby.

I often go there
if I'm homesick.

- So do you have a home up north?
- Mm-hmm.

Yeah, well,
it's a cabin actually.

Well, lean-to really.

- Well, maybe I could see it
sometime.

That would be nice.

Let's see what Mr. Dunn
has in his knapsack.

Tracy Jenkins poster.

Tracy Jenkins tape.

Pair of silk stockings.

I don't even want to know.

And two unopened Tracy Jenkins
CDs.

Hmm.

Excuse me.

We got a piece of tape

that puts you in the bar.

- There were a lot of other
people in that bar, Mister.

We searched your room.

We found this in your closet.
Newspaper clippings.

It seems the deceased
had some trouble with the law.

You blackmailed him, which he tired of,
forcing you to kill him.

I didn't kill him.

- You didn't?
- No, he didn't, Ray.

- Come on, Fraser, I'm really
laying on the lumber here.

- I realize that, and I apologize,
but he is telling the truth.

He's innocent.

- Yes, sometimes
he'd bring me stuff.

Stockings and stuff.

And sometimes he'd get 'em.

Except some stuff
he couldn't get.

Like I really, really wanted
a pair of her...

Save it, mush mouth.

Don't tell my mom, okay, Mister?

Outside.

- Someone ought to check
that guy's freezer.

- So if our clocks tally,
our little extortionist

was at the other end
of the street buying

a CD when the guy was killed.

And the clocks do tally, Sir.

And the clerk identified him
from a photograph.

Dutch, set Carver free, please.

- So if the killer's not Carver, then
it's got to be somebody who knew

Carver was going to meet Earl.
- Not necessarily.

I mean the killer could have
just followed Earl,

and then killed him when the first
opportunity to do so presented itself.

- Someone tries to kill the star.
Then somebody does kill

the star's bodyguard.
Come on, Fraser. No connection?

The peroxide, the letters,
the silk stockings...

The guy's a pervert.

- Well, I agree he's a pervert.
He's also an extortionist.

But, Ray, I do not believe
that Mr. Dunn

had anything to do
with either shooting.

- Maybe someone's trying
to frame him...

Let's look at the husband.

There's rumours of a divorce, right?
If they get a divorce,

he gets nothing... That's a motive.

Where does that leave Earl?

- Perhaps Earl was in
on the murder plan.

Or perhaps he found out about it

and was using that
to blackmail the wife.

Is that what you were thinking,
more or less?

- Exactly what I was thinking.
- Let's run Dwight on the computer.

- I already did... There's nothing
unless he's got an alias.

- Dwight Jones!
Or Dwight Parsons.

Changes his name after tracking
his birth parents

to a trailer park in Louisiana,
1979.

Okay, thanks.

- Meets Tracy Jenkins, March 4th,
1981, at the 16-acre lounge,

Nashville, Tennessee...
She, a cocktail waitress;

he, a disc jockey
with a criminal record

for fraud and assault.

- Okay, that's good.
- Tracy is nothing if not loyal.

Her current manager,
George Monroe,

was the former owner
of the 16-acre lounge.

Her band leader, Muddy Johnson,

was the guitarist in residence.

- You can shut up now.
- From her earliest days,

Tracy displayed a determination...
- Okay, enough said.

- She played
until her fingers bled.

That's just the kind of person
she...

Miss Jenkins!

Uh, Miss Jenkins,
it's Constable Turnbull.

Woo-woo!

Miss Jenkins, Miss Jenkins.

Uh, uh, oh, dear,
Music Hall, Music Hall...

Constable Fraser, constable
Fraser... Constable Fraser.

Their taxes don't differ

No, they don't.

And their water's the same

But in one you get comfort

And in the other ashamed

Yeeha! Ooh, can we cook.

- Somebody call up
Wilkins and Howard

and Summerling,
and sign this act up.

- Excuse me, Wilkins
and Howard and Summerling,

aren't they in the Stratenger
building?

On Michigan Avenue, yup.

- I thought they were
divorce lawyers.

- No, nothing that tawdry.
These guys are talent managers.

High-powered, low-key.
Remember the unplugged fad?

That was them, they created it.

They're taking on some of the
biggest acts in the business.

- That's right.
- Like Tracy Jenkins.

- Turnbull's got his
pumpkin pants in a knot.

Tracy's going to make that date
at The Music Hall tonight.

Excuse me, boys.

That Old Mule River's In Me.

Walter Brennan.

50 bucks, cough it up.

Excuse me, Mr. Muddy.

- Sorry, I'm late
for a rehearsal.

I got to go, man.

Check, check two, one, two.

I need a bit more monitor.

Okay, check two,
two, two, one, two.

Where the hell is Muddy?
- Ooh, 16 acres, boys.

Boy, I'll tell you, that was
a bad dive on the bad side

of a bad street.
Nobody had a dime back then.

We'd all go down
to the A&P grocery store

and shoplift some baloney
and crackers.

Play a couple of songs
for free beer.

Life was good.

Tracy was just
a kid back then, man.

We was all crazy about Tracy,
man, especially old George.

Was George involved with Tracy?

Yeah, 'cept she didn't know it.

Tracy had a thing going on
with Dwight.

Old George hung in there anyway.

And when the 16 acres burned,
he took the insurance money

and produced her first album.

He'd have done anything for Tracy.
- Including commit arson?

- Well, you know,
that was a long time ago

and nobody's sure, but,
you know, one thing is

the bar burned

and George got the cash,
Tracy got an album,

and I got a real good job.

What did Dwight get?

Bitter.

Gotta go, man, gotta go.

Yeah, I'm sitting
in this traffic jam

And smiling anyway

Every time you come around

Funny, where I'm standing,
boy, it looks like rain

But it's someone else's cloud

Excuse me if I laugh out loud

I just get this way every time

You come around

Every time you come around

Stay

No need to leave me

Won't you hang around

Where's Tracy?

Ohh!

George, George.

There's nowhere to go.

The building is surrounded
with police officers.

- I was going to care of her.
It's all over.

I gave up everything I had
for her and she was

just going to throw me away.

I'd have taken care of you.

- Turn me into a loser
like Dwight?

I don't need you to take

care of me...
I had big plans for us.

- George, now you're
going to kill me?

Kill you? Tracy...

I love you.

She's a fallen angel

She's just flesh and bone

She's the rock of ages

She's a rolling stone

She's nobody's girl, she walks

This road alone

Nobody's girl

She calls her soul

Her own

Nobody's girl

She knows she's on her own
In this world

She's nobody's girl

- Great, uh?
- Exhilarating.

She's some kind of saint

And if her hands are dirty

Well, her spirit aches

She's nobody's girl

She walks this road alone

She calls nobody's girl

Her soul her own

She knows she's
on her own in this world

She's nobody's girl

- I just can't wear hats.
I don't have a hat face.

- It has to be "Huey and Dewey. "
- Oh, yeah? Why?

- 'cause all the great acts
have two names.

- Like who?
- Laurel and Hardy,

Abbott and Costello,
Milt and Berle.

Knows the world don't claim you

It don't own you, too

She don't belong to me now, no

She don't belong to you

She's nobody's girl

She walks this road alone

Nobody's girl

She calls her soul her own

- I'm sorry I shot you, Mister.
- You didn't shoot me.

Oh, that's right.

She's nobody's girl

She walks this road alone

Nobody's girl

She calls her soul her own

Nobody's girl

She knows she's on her own
In this world

She's nobody's girl

- I don't know.
Then everything just got worse.

I mean, I lost my pick-up.

My mama died.

Had a hernia operation.

You going to drink that?

She's nobody's girl

Come in.

- Hey.
- Ah.

Bus is all set to go here.

I just, uh, thought I'd come in

and say that I'm sorry
you got tangled up in this.

You know, money,
it's got this way

of making people
see things funny, you know?

Indeed.

You know, it's been reported
that when colonel Tom Parker

heard that Elvis had died,
the first words out

of his mouth were "This changes
nothing; double production. "

- Yeah, it can be an ugly
business.

- Are you two
going to be all right?

Yeah, sure.

She needs me.

Catch you down the line, buddy.

Well, this is it.

I came to say goodbye,
to say thank you for everything.

- No, I should thank you for
letting me sing.

It was very... stirring.

- Stirring? I didn't know
you could be stirred.

- I can, I...
I can be stirred.

- Well, then, uh, maybe
I could interest you

in seeing America through
the window of a tour bus.

I'd love to, but... I'm afraid

that I have... obligations.

- Another woman.
I thought so.

I'll never forget you, Fraser.

The things I do for you.

High winds northern sky

Will carry you away

You know you have to leave here

You wish that you could stay

There's four directions on this map

But you're only going one way

Due South that's the way I'm going

Due South

Saddle up my travelling shoes
I'm bound to walk away these blues

Due South

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