FADE IN:
INT. ARGYLE HOTEL LOBBY - EVENING
The Art Deco appointments seem perpetually in style,
every item carefully placed, as if for a photo shoot.
PADDY RYAN (50), broad shoulders, chiseled features,
fidgets in on a comfortable sofa, holding a single rose
and a gift box of whiskey.
He stares at the entrance, frustrated, checks his watch.
He hefts the package, as if estimating its weight, then
abruptly stands and shoves the rose into a trash bin.
The front door opens. He watches JULIA (26) under-dressed
and overly made-up, breeze in and cross to the elevator.
She presses the call button and turns to give him an icy
appraisal. He quickly looks away.
Julia boards the elevator without glancing back.
Ryan looks about furtively and retrieves the flower. He
sinks into the sofa and smooths its wrapping paper.
His CELL PHONE RINGS. He listens for a moment, then heads
for the elevator, pausing at a hallway mirror to
straighten his tie and run a comb through his hair.
GUEST SUITE
LOIS (28), raven-haired, dressed head-to-toe in a stylish
Gucci ensemble, opens the door but blocks his entrance,
addresses him in a sultry, husky voice.
LOIS
Are those for me?
Ryan shrugs diffidently.
RYAN
Unless there's another gorgeous
brunette in there with you.
LOIS
Yes ... I think perhaps you better
come inside.
Lois swiftly grabs his belt buckle and pulls him inside,
relieving him of the package as he stumbles forward.
LOIS
Single malt.
She nods approvingly at the package, tosses it to Julia,
standing at the bar, who catches it deftly.
JULIA
Do you want ice?
LOIS
Do you want me to tattoo DUMBASS
across your forehead?
Ryan looks uncertainly from Lois to Julia.
RYAN
I wasn't expecting a threesome.
LOIS
You're in for a wild ride. This
freight train is just waiting for a
locomotive.
Julia serves three whiskey with a catwalk strut.
RYAN
Are you pitching or catching?
JULIA
I'm the designated hitter. Or maybe
I'll join in as relief pitcher.
RYAN
I'm not so sure about this.
JULIA
Don't worry. I have just the thing
to help you past your shyness.
She rummages through a soft leather overnight bag and
holds out two tablets, one blue, stamped Pfizer, the
other green, stamped with an apple.
JULIA
Try a little trail mix.
Julia takes his hand and drops the pills into his palm.
Ryan contemplates the pills uncertainly.
As Julia retrieves her drink, her arm brushes the
overnight bag, causing the flap to slip open, revealing
handcuffs, duct tape and a syringe inside.
Ryan looks from the pills, to the case, to Julia's eyes.
Julia looks to the case, gasps softly.
Ryan's hand clenches into a fist around the pills. He
slugs Julia, knocking her into a sofa. Her drink smashes
against the wall. Lois cringes.
He digs a drug vial from the bag, examines the label.
RYAN
Sodium Pentothal? What the ... ?
Julia leaps onto his back, grabs for the vial. He shakes
her off. She tumbles over a chair, comes back swinging a
shoulder bag. Ryan ducks. The bag smashes a lamp.
He draws a pistol. She knocks it from his hand. BANG! A
bullet goes wild, tears into the wall next to Lois.
They square off like two mismatched wrestlers.
Lois eases toward the gun, but backs away when Ryan
snarls, shrinks into a corner.
Julia digs into her bag. Ryan rushes her. A ribbon of
flame bursts through the leather. BANG!
Ryan clutches his gut. Blood oozes between his fingers.
He slumps against the sofa, fingers fumbling for a .25
caliber automatic in an ankle holster.
BANG! Blood spurts from a second wound. The pistol slips
from his fingers.
Ryan shakes his head in contempt as he fades out.
RYAN
You always were a cunt.
Lois staggers out of her torpor.
LOIS
I wanted him alive.
JULIA
So give him C.P.R.
LOIS
There'll be the devil to pay.
JULIA
You'd better leave.
INT. SAMPSON'S OFFICE
GOU SHENG (26), an exotic Afro-Asian beauty, switches off
a blender, pours smoothies into two glasses.
She sets one on the desk before SAMPSON (52), ebony
skinned, six-foot-six, two-fifty, in a two-thousand
dollar suit that fails to mask the tattoo creeping up his
neck or the scar across his cheek. He stares out the
window, lost in thought.
SAMPSON
Thanks, baby girl.
Gou Sheng takes a seat and sips on her smoothie.
Sampson rotates his chair, takes a cigar from a humidor,
begins to unwrap it, but hesitates when he sees Gou
Sheng's disapproving frown.
He drops the cigar in the humidor and toasts her with the
smoothie.
SAMPSON
Problem is, nobody can bust a cap
in that little cocksucker 'cepting
Dominic his self.
GOU SHENG
So he gets a pass?
SAMPSON
Not for this. He gets dead, only we
have to do it by remote control.
GOU SHENG
Like a bomb?
SAMPSON
Ain't you been listening? Nobody
can touch him 'cepting Dominic.
Fool get hit by lightning, Ol' Dom
be lookin' for somebody to pay.
GOU SHENG
So what do we do?
SAMPSON
You studied chemistry. Can you tell
the difference 'tween a crystal
meth lab and a MaDMAn lab?
Gou Sheng shakes her head in innocent denial.
Sampson takes a bundle of hundreds from a drawer.
SAMPSON
Start calling candy companies. We
need a pill machine, like they use
for SweeTarts and a machine for
sugar coatings.
INT. GIDEON'S HOME - MORNING
ERIN (14), auburn hair with freckles, stirs amidst the
rumpled sheets of a king-size bed. No longer a child, not
yet a woman, she stretches languidly, turns to the open
bathroom door and smiles.
GIDEON MAGUIRE (36), roguishly handsome, sings an Irish
ballad as he shaves in the master bath.
GIDEON
(sings)
"She said, Kind sir be civil,
My company forsake,
For in my own opinion,
I fear you are a rake."
Gideon combs his hair, pushes a lock back from his
temple, turns his head to examine one side then the
other, touches his crown, scowls, reaches for the gel.
Erin takes a crucifix on a necklace from around her neck
and kisses the figure of Christ.
ERIN
Thank you, Jesus.
Gideon knots his tie and grins at Erin's reflection.
GIDEON
(sings)
"Your beauty so enticed me
I could not pass it by,
So it's with my gun I'll guard you,
All on the mountain high."
Gideon brushes Erin's tresses from her face.
GIDEON
Don't you have school today?
Erin's green eyes sparkle mischievously.
ERIN
I want to stay here with you.
Gideon lifts Erin into a hug and kisses her.
GIDEON
Who will earn a living while we sit
around doing nothing all day?
ERIN
Mom will. We'll send her to work.
Gideon tries to break away. Erin clings tenaciously. He
gently pries her arms free, guides her toward the door.
GIDEON
Go on, get ready for school. Don't
be giving your mother any trouble.
Erin affects an exaggerated sassy walk as she heads
toward the door, her fingertips fluttering good-bye.
KITTY (36), in the doorway sipping a steaming mug of
coffee, bends for a kiss as Erin passes.
KITTY
Now the two of you plot behind my
back to play hookey while I go off
to work in the mines?
Gideon pulls an unyielding Kitty into an embrace, as he
steals a quick sip of coffee.
GIDEON
Let's send Erin off to work the
mines while we play hookey ... and
do something we haven't done
properly for far too long.
Gideon pulls Kitty onto the bed, balancing the coffee in
one hand, his other arm wrapped around her waist as he
kisses her neck.
Kitty arches away from him, avoiding his kisses.
KITTY
Mind your manners, Gideon Maguire.
What will the children think?
ERIN (O.S.)
That grown-ups have all the fun.
Kitty breaks away and smooths out her dress. Trapped
between his wife's infuriating indifference and his
daughter's intrusive dependence, Gideon forces a smile.
GIDEON
Forget something, angel?
ERIN
My crucifix.
Erin jumps on the bed and tears through the sheets.
GIDEON
Your mother and I were just looking
for it.
ERIN
I could tell. You're a lousy
detective.
(displays chain)
It was right here under your nose.
GIDEON
Perhaps I should find a job better
suited to my limited talents.
Gideon cups his hand over the key pad of a wall-mounted
gun safe as he punches in the code. Erin tries to peek.
ERIN
When are you going to give me the
combination?
Gideon opens the safe to remove a nickel-plated Colt .45
with custom grips, which he holsters.
GIDEON
Young ladies have no need to be
playing with guns.
An LED inside the safe blinks.
GIDEON
Did you buy a new battery, Kitty?
KITTY
Did you get the new battery for
your father, like I asked you?
Erin holds out her arms, wrists together in surrender.
ERIN
So, arrest me, I forgot.
GIDEON
But if ye do no remember, I'll 'ave
no gun to arrest you with.
ERIN
If I get your stupid battery, will
you show me how to open the safe?
GIDEON
You've no need for guns, angel.
Erin trembles and flushes. Her eyes well with tears.
ERIN
What if I'm all alone when an
intruder breaks in?
Gideon grasps her shoulders in comfort and reassurance.
GIDEON
If you're here alone, opening the
safe will do you no good, for the
gun will be gone with me.
ERIN
What if there's an intruder?
GIDEON
Then the best thing to do is run.
Gideon playfully chases Erin around the room.
ERIN
What if he's big and ugly, like
you?
GIDEON
Then you best run fast, and hide.
Erin runs across the bed and out the door.
GIDEON
What's gotten into that child?
KITTY
Since Ryan was murdered, she
worries for you, especially when
you work late. As do I.
Gideon tries to kiss Kitty, but she turns away.
GIDEON
You shouldn't let her crawl in bed
with you every time she has a
nightmare.
KITTY
She might sleep more soundly if you
came home earlier, for once.
Kitty scowls at a hair plucked from Gideon's jacket.
GIDEON
A cup of eggnog with a shot of rum
might put her under long enough for
us to work on a baby sister.
PATRICK (O.S.)
There's no more milk!
Kitty breaks away, turns to Patrick (10), a freckled
carrot-top in the doorway.
KITTY
What would Father Miller say?
Drugging your own daughter to
further lustful desires?
GIDEON
It's not lust if it's your own
wife. It's what the church calls
divine bliss.
Kitty shoos Gideon away.
KITTY
Get on to work, Gideon Maguire.
EXT. CITY STREET - MORNING
A low-rider pulls to the curb and DELROY climbs out.
He approaches a Toyota Celica with custom rims, a Slim
Jim held at his side.
EXT. SCARPELLI ESTATE - DAY
DOMINIC SCARPELLI (70), swims laps in a pool nestled in a
garden surrounded by hedges and rose bushes.
Sampson, eating lunch at the patio, checks his watch.
SAMPSON
Two-twelve, not his best time, but
not bad for a seventy-year-old.
LUIGI SCARPELLI (28), a slender, pretty boy model-type in
designer leather jacket and shoes, shrugs.
LUIGI
He swims every day, rain or shine.
A bronzed hardbody in a skimpy bikini, helps Dominic into
a plush terrycloth robe, hands him a towel.
SAMPSON
Sure likes to show off for his
towel girl, not that I blame him.
Dominic joins Sampson and Luigi as MACCIO, a mountain of
a man in butler livery, brings a covered silver tray.
DOMINIC
What'cha doin' for me of recent?
LUIGI
I want to discuss the growth
opportunities in identity theft.
DOMINIC
You mean the plastic.
LUIGI
Credit cards, checkbooks, driver
licenses, social security cards,
magnetic key cards, passports.
DOMINIC
Plastic.
LUIGI
A high-end luxury car might fetch
ten grand from the chop shop, but
if the owner leaves a pocketbook in
the car, the credit cards alone
could be worth a hundred grand.
DOMINIC
Sampson?
Sampson shakes his head dismissively.
SAMPSON
The street teams pinch a lot of the
small stuff before we see it.
(shrugs, apologetic)
Pack of lying thieves.
LUIGI
We still get a lot of purses.
SAMPSON
We sell the plastic pretty quick.
LUIGI
For pennies on the dollar and it
wastes time, gives the owner a
chance to report them missing.
SAMPSON
Buyer don't know if the cards be
cherry or over limit and we don't
know nothing better, so we don't
know if we get two cents or fifty.
Dominic slices into his steak, chews thoughtfully.
LUIGI
But we can take a much bigger piece
of the action. We have the network
and the contacts.
SAMPSON
Not if we want to stay stone cold
sure nothing gets traced back.
Dominic jabs a steak knife in Luigi's direction.
DOMINIC
The cards are gravy. You want more
gravy, but too much gravy makes you
fat. Besides, it's a federal beef.
LUIGI
Just voicing my suggestion.
DOMINIC
My suggestion is stay focused on
what we do well. Your business is
down, way down. I'm giving you a
week to get back on track before I
send in my specialists.
INT. SPIKE'S APARTMENT - DAY
Gideon pulls on rubber gloves as UNIFORMED OFFICERS admit
him to a crime scene.
MICKEY, coroner investigator, photographs the decomposed
body of SPIKE (22), a pencil-thin black youth strapped
spread-eagle and upside-down to a shelving unit leaning
against a sofa with a rag stuffed in his mouth.
Spike's head rests in a puddle of coagulated blood from a
bullet hole in his forehead.
A half-empty bucket of water stands near the body.
MICKEY
If you ask my opinion, somebody
waterboarded this unfortunate soul.
GIDEON
Torture?
Mickey shrugs as if to say, "I don't want to go there."
MICKEY
Depends if you ask the one pouring
the water or the one gagging on it.
Done right, it leaves no scars, but
very rough on the lungs and brain.
Mickey tosses Gideon a shell casing in an evidence pouch.
MICKEY
Of course, not as rough as a twenty
five caliber bullet at close range.
GIDEON
A lady's gun.
MICKEY
Not necessarily. James Bond used a
twenty-five caliber Beretta until M
made him switch to the seven-point
six-five millimeter Walther PPK.
GIDEON
You think James Bond was involved?
MICKEY
The real question is: Who got
Bond's old Beretta?
GIDEON
Any idea as to time of death?
MICKEY
My unofficial opinion, about a
week. No more than two.
GIDEON
Why bother not to leave scars, then
leave him here with a bullet in his
head for anybody to find?
Mickey points a pencil at the wrist and ankle restraints.
MICKEY
It's for sure somebody took pains
to avoid scars. Brand new padded
bondage restraints, seventy-nine
ninety-five a pair at your local
porn shop.
GIDEON
And how would you know the price?
Mickey tosses Gideon a plastic evidence pouch containing
packaging for restraints priced at $79.95.
MICKEY
Found this in the vic's trash. A
two-dollar clothesline would have
worked, but would have left scars.
GIDEON
I'll get a doughnut with the boys
in blue while you find the killer.
Gideon flips through a stack of unopened mail.
MICKEY
Just doing my job. Know him?
Gideon opens an envelope from Classic Auto Storage, finds
a $500 invoice for monthly storage fees.
GIDEON
Street name was Spike. Couple of
priors for G.T.A. Can't imagine
what Spike could have known that
anybody would want this badly.
Gideon pockets the invoice.
MICKEY
Maybe he didn't, so she shot him.
GIDEON
What if somebody forced him to
spill his guts then somebody else
killed him for it?
Could the drowning and shooting
have occurred at different times?
MICKEY
You'd have to ask the medical
examiner. I'm just a lowly field
investigator.
EXT. JUNK YARD - DAY
Delroy drives the Celica past rusted auto frames to a
dilapidated garage.
INT. CHOP SHOP
The overhead door swings open and he pulls into a clean
service area with modern equipment. As Delroy climbs out,
MECHANICS descend upon the Celica with power hand tools.
EXT. CLASSIC AUTO STORAGE - DAY - ESTABLISHING
A modern, high-tech self-storage facility offering
climate controlled garages in townhouse-style rows.
INT. CLASSIC AUTO STORAGE - OFFICE
Gideon shows his I.D. to THEO (30s), a Pillsbury Doughboy
drooling over an article about the Lamborghini Reventón.
GIDEON
May I speak to the manager?
THEO
That's one of my many hats. It's a
small operation. A hundred units.
GIDEON
I'm afraid one of your renters has
fallen victim to foul play.
THEO
Not here?
GIDEON
No, at his home. Homicide.
THEO
That's terrible. Who was it?
GIDEON
Spike Cleveland, unit fourteen.
THEO
Lime green Saleen S-Seven. Sweet
ride. But you'll need a court order
to get inside.
GIDEON
When was the unit last accessed?
THEO
That I can tell you. Our security
system maintains a log of every
door and gate that's opened.
Theo turns to a computer screen, navigates a few menus.
THEO
A week ago Thursday. Fourteen
twelve, that's two-twelve P.M.
GIDEON
Can you show me the security videos
from that day?
THEO
Video is so seventies. Try computer
controlled high-def cameras
triggered by motion detectors and
infrared sensors.
Theo inserts a DVD into his computer, enters the unit
number into an inquiry screen. The computer displays a
screen of thumbnails.
He enlarges an image: A large man wearing a Dodgers
baseball cap and UCLA sweatshirt over jeans.
THEO
Our visitor arrives.
He zooms in on the visitor's face. His features are
distorted by a clear plastic Halloween mask.
THEO
What the devil?
GIDEON
Foiled by low-tech. Zoom out.
Gideon studies the image.
GIDEON
Can you zoom in on the shoes?
Thad zooms in on low-cut hiking shoes.
GIDEON
Timberline Titans.
THEO
Paid your way through the police
academy selling shoes?
GIDEON
Guy I knew swore by them. Can you e
mail me that shot?
Gideon hands Theo a business card.
THEO
No problem.
GIDEON
Can we see what goes on inside?
Theo scrolls through the thumbnails.
THEO
No, but he obviously removed a
suitcase.
Theo displays another image showing the visitor leaving,
carrying a leather case, zooms in on the bag.
THEO
Mulholland Brothers. Sweet.
GIDEON
You sell luggage part-time?
THEO
Custom luggage for the Saleen.
Twelve grand for five pieces.
INT. WAREHOUSE - EVENING
Luigi walks through a darkened warehouse.
SATAN, a jet black pit bull terrier, lurches from the
shadows, scrambles against his chain trying to claw a
toehold in the concrete floor.
Luigi steps away, nearly collides with FIDO, a piebald
pit bull -- white with a black patch over one eye --
standing quietly, eyes focused on the other dog.
LUIGI
Jesus H. Christ! Nice dog. Stay.
He lets Fido sniff his hand, scratches the dog's ears.
LUIGI
Hey, pal. Let me see your eyes.
He shines a small pen light on Fido's face, grins.
LUIGI
You have the eyes of a winner.
Luigi pats Fido's flank, continues into the warehouse.
He reaches a plywood arena where SPECTATORS drink beer,
lay wagers, and joke in excitement and anticipation.
Satan and Fido are shepherded to opposite corner by their
HANDLERS and sponged down.
Luigi approaches Sampson, who is smoking fat cigars with
CLETUS (28), African-American, GQ model looks.
LUIGI
Black dog yours, Sampson?
SAMPSON
That's Satan. Trained him myself.
LUIGI
Cletus's dog Fido looks ready to
kick ass.
SAMPSON
Care to put some money on that?
LUIGI
Hate to take your hard earned money
three times in a row.
SAMPSON
Now you're the big handicapper.
Shall we say a Franklin?
Luigi shakes his head, reaches into his jacket pocket.
LUIGI
Let's make it fifty.
Luigi pulls out five banded bundles of hundred-dollar
bills from various pockets.
SAMPSON
Don't fuck with me, Luigi. I'm not
insulting Dominic by taking fifty
large off his only son.
LUIGI
Better to insult me?
The REFEREE raises a bullhorn to his lips.
REFEREE
Gentlemen, face your dogs.
The HANDLERS turn the snarling dogs to face one another.
SAMPSON
I respect you Luigi, but you don't
know shit about dog fights. Take my
damn advice. Sit this one out.
LUIGI
If you respect me, book my bet.
SAMPSON
You know it's too late to lay this
off. Shit. If you so hot under the
collar, kiss your money good-bye.
Sampson pockets the money, shaking his head.
REFEREE
Let go!
Satan and Fido charge each other, colliding in a bone
crunching mid-air pas de deux. The fight is a ferocious,
pulse-pounding display of vicious, feral savagery.
Luigi cringes and looks away.
LUIGI
Ouch! That has got to hurt.
CLETUS
Dogs are trained to ignore pain.
LUIGI
Fido's got Satan by the throat.
SAMPSON
Dog fighting is about gameness, not
killing. Having the courage to
fight when all is lost and the
loyalty to die if necessary to
protect your master.
Luigi grimaces, clutches his abdomen.
LUIGI
Nasty! Pay up. Fido just ripped out
Satan's throat.
SAMPSON
Ain't what determines the winner.
Fido has the next scratch. If he
don't come out to attack Satan, he
forfeits the match.
LUIGI
Satan is fucking dead.
SAMPSON
Don't matter. Dead or alive. Loser
is the dog that fails to attack.
LUIGI
Satan is never attacking again.
SAMPSON
Ain't his turn. Wanna double down?
CLETUS
Rules of dogfights are strict. Go
back two hundred years.
Fido ferociously worries Satan's inert body.
LUIGI
It's a bet.
Sampson offers Luigi the stack of hundreds.
SAMPSON
Last chance. Don't want no
complainin' I took your money
'cause you didn't know the rules.
Fido claws at the mat to get back in the fight.
LUIGI
Double or nothing, fool.
Cletus takes a cell phone from his pocket, grins.
CLETUS
Those young things love to text.
The handler wrestles Fido into his corner.
SAMPSON
Thirty seconds to rest.
The Handler squirts water into Fido's mouth.
Luigi, Sampson and Cletus watch expectantly.
Fido settles down, sits facing the corner, panting.
Luigi frowns, shoots Sampson a nervous, concerned look.
REFEREE
Face your dog.
The handler turns Fido around. Fido sits peacefully.
Luigi frowns.
REFEREE
Let go!
The Handler unleashes Fido. Fido stares at Satan's body.
HANDLER
Attack!
Fido looks around, yawns, lies down.
Luigi flashes an angry, suspicious look at Sampson.
HANDLER
On your feet! Attack!
The Handler raises his hands in bewilderment.
SAMPSON
Fido ain't got the killer instinct.
LUIGI
Bullshit. He drugged the dog.
SAMPSON
Bullshit yourself.
Sampson SNAPS his fingers, motions to the Handler. The
Handler tosses the water bottle to Sampson, who squirts
water into his mouth, swallows.
SAMPSON
Nothing but Evian. Have a taste?
Sampson offers Luigi the bottle.
LUIGI
Fido fucking lost to a dead dog?
SAMPSON
Fido lost to his self. Dog that
walks away ain't always the winner.
LUIGI
Fuck!
SAMPSON
I tol' you not to bet. Gave you
every out out of respect for your
dad and for you. Now you need to
cough up another fifty grand.
Luigi storms off. Cletus shakes his hand, slapping his
cell phone against his palm.
SAMPSON
Not here. I'll settle up later.
INT. LOS ANGELES POLICE STATION
Gideon pulls his mail from a bank of pigeonholes, sifts
through the memoranda, bulletins and telephone messages
as he approaches his desk.
DEXTER, an officious clerk, chases after him.
DEXTER
Maguire, Chandler wants to see you
in his office, first thing.
Gideon nods, crumples a bulletin absently.
CHANDLER'S OFFICE
Scanning his mail, Gideon raises his hand to knock when
the door is swept open by DENNIS NICHOLS, a weasel in a
three-piece suit, who pulls him aside.
NICHOLS
Detective Maguire? I'm Dennis
Nichols, staff counsel for the
Protective League. I'm here to
represent you.
Gideon pushes past Nichols into Chandler's office.
MARVIN CHANDLER, pudgy and humorless, eyes Gideon coldly
from behind a tape recorder centered on his desk blotter.
MARGE, silver-haired stenographer, sits with pen poised.
SANTIAGO (40s), immaculate suit, has the confidence of
one groomed for political office. He studies a file with
the air of one who has already memorized it.
COOPER (50s), has sad eyes and an air of defeat.
PHELPS (30s), perches on Chandler's desk. Prematurely
bald, the highbrow, intellectual look of an up-and-coming
whiz kid. An outsider, possibly from the mayor's office,
he postures himself to broadcast his authority.
CHANDLER
This is a preliminary investigation
into events surrounding the death
of Detective Padraic Ryan. At this
time, you are not accused of any
misconduct. Should your status
change during the course of this
inquiry, you will be advised of
your Miranda rights; however,
silence could be considered
insubordination and subject you to
disciplinary action. Am I clear?
GIDEON
Get on with it. We've both got jobs
to do.
SANTIAGO
You are lead investigator on the
Spike Cleveland homicide?
Surprised, Gideon shrugs, almost apologetic.
GIDEON
Since Ryan is gone.
SANTIAGO
You are also acquainted with the
victim?
GIDEON
Spike? Oh, yeah. He started small,
boosting rims and stereos when he
was fourteen. Stole his first ride
before he got a driver's license.
SANTIAGO
Spike was also your snitch.
GIDEON
Not a very good one. The plan was
to work my way up the food chain.
Use Spike to build a case against
Cletus, use Cletus to nail Sampson
and eventually nail Scarpelli.
SANTIAGO
But Cletus slipped away.
GIDEON
The D.A. thought we had a strong
case. The judge disagreed.
PHELPS
Ryan and you were partners?
GIDEON
Ryan worked homicide. I covered the
waterfront. We worked the homicides
and kidnappings together.
SANTIAGO
Did Spike also snitch for Ryan?
GIDEON
I can't imagine Spike ever had any
information of interest to Ryan.
PHELPS
Did they know one another?
GIDEON
If their paths ever crossed, no one
ever mentioned it to me.
CHANDLER
Can you think of any legitimate
reason why Ryan's fingerprints
turned up in Spike's apartment?
Five pairs of hostile eyes glare at Gideon. Only Marge
shows a glimmer of kindness and concern.
GIDEON
No sir, I cannot.
Cooper hands Gideon a stack of photographs.
COOPER
Those fancy bondage straps. Bought
and paid for by your pal Ryan.
Gideon flips through surveillance images of Ryan at the
counter of an adult bookstore.
Gideon shakes his head in stunned disbelief.
SANTIAGO
Ryan carried a twenty-five caliber
backup piece in an ankle holster,
didn't he?
GIDEON
A Baby Browning. Did Ryan's gun
kill Spike?
COOPER
We don't know. It's missing.
CHANDLER
It looks like Ryan tortured and
killed Spike. A week later, Ryan
was murdered. Unless somebody has a
better theory, I must assume the
two murders are somehow related.
GIDEON
Ordinarily, I would draw the same
conclusion, but knowing Ryan, it
just isn't possible.
CHANDLER
Surely you see how such sentiments
might cloud your perception of Ryan
as a suspect and a victim.
GIDEON
Ryan was a brilliant detective. He
was also an egotistical, selfish
bastard. I can't pretend I'm sorry
he's dead, but I'm furious that he
was murdered.
CHANDLER
Was Ryan still seeing your wife?
GIDEON
That was a long time ago.
COOPER
Are you sure? Absolutely certain?
GIDEON
I don't appreciate your tone.
CHANDLER
Was Ryan inclined to any unusual
sexual preferences?
GIDEON
I'm sure he liked the ladies.
CHANDLER
Did he have a steady girlfriend?
GIDEON
I think he found himself in a rut
since his wife died.
Santiago produces a Gucci shoebox and opens it to reveal
a pair of lady's red high-heel spaghetti strap sandals.
SANTIAGO
We found these in Ryan's closet.
European size forty-four, that's a
lady's twelve and a half, or man's
ten and a half. Ryan's size.
PHELPS
Bondage paraphernalia, torture,
murder, cross-dressing in eight
hundred-dollar designer shoes, what
was Ryan into?
GIDEON
No idea, but I'm going to find out.
CHANDLER
You've been reassigned, pending the
outcome of this inquiry.
INT. CRYSTAL METH LAB - NIGHT
Sampson and Gou Sheng survey a laboratory pieced together
from garage sales, with mismatched kitchen appliances and
power tools and a few items of laboratory glassware.
A MECHANIC makes a final adjustment to a pill machine and
throws a switch. Pills cascade down a chute.
Gou Sheng scoops out a handful, offers them to Sampson.
Sampson examines a cream-colored pill stamped GUCCI.
SAMPSON
What's in it?
GOU SHENG
Sugar and citric acid.
SAMPSON
Is it safe?
GOU SHENG
As long as you brush your teeth.
Gou Sheng drops the pills into an enrobing machine, like
a miniature cement mixer, and starts it spinning.
GOU SHENG
This will add a sugar coating.
She switches it off and dumps out shiny black pills.
Sampson pops a few in his mouth and chews thoughtfully.
SAMPSON
Cherry flavored. But how will we
convince him they're real?
GOU SHENG
If he brings his own chemist, we're
cooked. But if he thinks he's a lot
smarter than he is, he'll use a
reagent that reacts with ecstasy.
Gou Sheng gathers several small bottles from a shelf and
sets them before Sampson.
GOU SHENG
Marquis, Mecke, Mandelin and Xtreme
detect the presence of ecstasy but
not the concentration.
SAMPSON
We gone make sure he knows about
all these home test kits.
GOU SHENG
But these pills won't react at all.
SAMPSON
We gone make sure they do. But
first, we need a handful of real
ones as bait.
Gou Sheng surveys the lab, shakes her head.
GOU SHENG
I couldn't cook a decent batch of
aspirin with this junk.
Sampson takes a plastic bag of green pills from his case.
SAMPSON
Then grind these and press them
into new pills.
EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING - ESTABLISHING
A modest high-rise on a row of similar buildings.
INT. APARTMENT BUILDING
Gideon enters a vacant unit, cluttered by dropcloths and
ladders, finds HORACE (50s), in dress shirt and slacks,
beneath the kitchen sink on hands and knees, struggling
to loosen a fitting with a pipe wrench.
GIDEON
I'm from Building and Safety. We've
received complaints about plumbing
work by unlicensed contractors.
Horace bangs his knuckles as his wrench slips.
HORACE
Sod off, Maguire. But first, hand
me that spanner.
Gideon fishes a wrench from a cluttered toolbox.
HORACE
Damned pity about Ryan. Good man.
Never late with his rent. Stepped
up when we needed a fifth for poker
or a fourth for bridge. They have
any idea why? Or who?
GIDEON
Lieutenant Santiago is heading the
investigation.
He's the best we have. Ten years in
homicide, three in Internal
Affairs.
HORACE
He was here earlier. Went through
Ryan's apartment with a fine-tooth
comb. Suppose that's why you're
here as well.
GIDEON
Actually, I need to check your
security tapes from a week ago
Thursday afternoon.
EXT. APARTMENT BUILDING
Gideon steps into the sunlight, holding a photograph. He
looks up at a surveillance camera, then at the picture.
The image shows Ryan, wearing a Dodger's baseball cap and
UCLA sweatshirt, carrying a Mulholland Brothers case.
Gideon shakes his head sadly. |
