Briarpatch (2019–…): Season 1, Episode 1 - First Time in Saint Disgrace - full transcript

["Matchbox"
by Carl Perkins]

- Hang on.
I ain't wearing any pants!

- Harold.

- Yeah?

- You're still not
wearing any pants.

- No. I don't suppose I am.

- Hey, who the hell is it?

- It's the landlady, Cindy.

- What the hell
does she want?

- What the hell
you think she wants?

- What do you think I want,
Harold?



- Well, I could say
conversation.

Or a blessed moment
in the air con

you so generously provide.

Or a three-egg omelet.

But I suppose what you want
is the rent.

- You suppose right.

- Yeah, and I intend
to get it to you, I do.

It's just that work
is a little light just now.

Sure you don't want
that omelet?

- The rent, Harold.
I want the rent.

And I'm going to get it today,

or you're gonna find
another place

to hang your little pants.

- Hey, you know what?



I like your hair like that.

I think it looks really nice.

- Well, thank you.

Today.

- You gonna round up
the usual suspects?

- Yup.

Shit.

Jesus, get back.
The gas tank could go.

- What the hell happened?

- It appears someone
just blew up the landlady.

- Good day, sir.

- Miss Dill?

- The one and only.

- First time in Saint Disgrace?

- I grew up here.

- Really?

Well, you sure
ain't got the look.

- All right, stay back.

- What's this?

- There was a break-in
at the zoo

a week or so back.

- Break-in?

- Yes, ma'am.

Well, more like a breakout.

Somebody blew the locks
on the cages.

- Look at that thing.

- They've been making a mess
of things ever since.

- Anyway,
they've pretty much

got a handle on it now.

- Is somebody going to help it?

- Can I help you, ma'am?

- I have a reservation.
Dill. Allegra Dill.

- Certainly, ma'am.

Made this morning.

May I ask how long
you'll be staying with us?

- I'm not sure.
A week, maybe.

- That's fine.

I'll need a credit card
for incidentals.

- You're Pick Dill.

That's what they used
to call you: Pickle Dill.

- Not since high school.

- Your sister told me
all about it.

Tenth grade,
when you took down

three of the worst bullies

this state ever managed
to cough up.

- My finest hour.

- After that, they called you
Pick instead of Pickle.

And they stopped for good once
you got to Austin for college.

But your sister...

she always called you that.

Pick.

- Yes, she did.

- I'm A. D. Singe.
Like "scorch."

I'm--

Was a friend of Felicity's.

I'm also her attorney.

- I didn't know
she had an attorney.

- Yup. Me.

- Room 981.

I apologize, we don't
have anyone here

to help you
with your bag.

Cody called in sick again.
Rosa too.

- I'll manage.

- Since I provided counsel
to Felicity,

I thought the least I could do
was be here for you,

see if there's anything
that you need.

- I need a drink.

- Hey, A. D.
- Afternoon, Dusty.

- What'll it be?

- I'll have a brandy Alexander,

and whatever
the lady having.

- A gin, please. Ice.

- Fruity kind or the dry?

- The dry.

- Did you know
my sister long?

- Yeah, a few years now.

I was at the law school
when she was undergrad.

No, it wasn't like that.

I mean, I wished
that it was.

I'd be lying if I said
otherwise.

But it wasn't.

We were friends.

You know, good friends,
eventually.

First she was just
my French tutor.

I just thought
it would be useful.

- In Texas?

- Well, somewhere.

Anyway, we stayed close.

She'd quiz me
on the imparfait,

kick me some cases
after she joined the force.

You know, mostly cops
getting divorced.

And I helped her buy
the apartment complex.

And I drew up her will.

- Here we go.

Now, you let me know
if you need anything else.

- Sure thing, Dusty.

Thank you.

I'm terribly sorry
about your sister.

- Thank you.

- I know things
were complicated

between you two.

I'd toast, but today's
not a day for that.

- Actually...

today's my birthday.

Did she ever
talk about work?

- Sometimes.
- Was she working on anything

that might've caused someone
to put a bomb in her trunk?

- Not that she ever
told me about.

But there is something
that you ought to know, though.

- What?

- She worked for a man
named Strucker.

- Chief of detectives.

He called me this morning.

- Two hours after she died,
he rang me up.

He told me to meet him
at Felicity's bank.

- Safety-deposit box?

- I was there when
they opened it up.

They brought it all
out the box.

Her will, some photos
of your parents

from before the accident,

and an insurance policy.

It's the first I heard of it.

It's only three weeks old.

A term policy naming you
sole beneficiary.

I don't think you can smoke
in here anymore.

- I don't plan to.

Okay.

- Okay.

- How much?

- 1.7 million.

- 1.7 million.

- I'm Calvin Strucker,
Miss Dill,

chief of detectives
of the SBPD.

I spoke to you
on the phone.

I'd like to say again
how truly sorry I am.

This is Captain Gene Colder,
Homicide.

- Ma'am.

- Please come in.

- Go ahead, Gene.

- Investigating or mourning?

- Both, I'm afraid.

Miss Dill, when an officer
falls in the line of duty,

it's imperative to--
- Who did it?

- We don't know that yet.

- Why'd they do it?

- We don't know that either.

We're here
for two reasons.

One is to try and answer
any questions you might have,

and the other is to offer
official condolences

of the department.

- Your sister was
an exceptional person.

- How much did she make
in a year?

- Fifty-five fifty.

- And the annual premium
on a $1.7 million

life insurance policy

for a 27-year-old woman
in good health

is how much?

- You heard
about that?

- I heard about it.

- The lawyer?

- Well, if we're going
to have this conversation,

I'm going to need
a cup of coffee.

- It's not a smart
investment

for a young person
with no dependents.

There's no
surrender value.

You can't borrow
against it.

Of course, if she knew
she was going to die,

she might have wanted
to leave something to family.

Which is me.

- She said you were some kind
of investigator.

You a Fed?

- No. I work for
a Senate subcommittee.

- What does that mean?

- Whatever they
want it to.

It's not just
the life insurance.

There's also the matter
of her property.

- On 32nd.

You been there?

- Not yet.

When she told me
she was in the market,

I offered her some help
with the down payment.

She laughed.

Said she was going
to get creative.

- That's her.

- Then I found out
what that meant.

A multi-unit fixer-upper

with a price tag
just north of 400,000.

- How much did my sister have
in her checking account?

- Three hundred
and thirty-two dollars.

- So...

I mean, do you want to ask it
or should I?

When did my sister go bad?

- She didn't.
- Gene--

- She was good police.
Natural.

We jumped her to second grade

over three older detectives
straight out

of central casting.
- Gene...

- She worked leads,
she was patient.

She would have made sergeant
in two years, easy.

- You talk like you knew her.

- Better than you.

- Miss Dill,
I apologize

if tempers are running
a little hot.

Felicity was family.

We feel the same way.

And the thing about homicides,

well, most of them
are damn simple.

A guy will call you and say,
"I need you to get over here

"on account of I just
murdered my girlfriend

with a hockey stick."

And when you get there,
he's there,

sitting on the edge of the bed,
the stick still in hand,

crying tears on top of blood.

But every now and then,
you'll get one that's tricky.

Like this one right here.

- Yes.
- I told you that

we are going to bury your
sister on Saturday morning.

Before that, we're going
to find out what went wrong.

- Fine.

I want to see her place.

- Impossible.
There's procedure.

- What Gene is trying to say,
it's a matter of time.

We've got our best
forensics boys

tramping through there
right now.

- I need to see
where my sister lived.

- And I'll do my best
to make it happen.

I need your trust on this,
Miss Dill.

I'll be in touch.

- Your sister and I,

when my divorce
comes through,

we were going
to be married.

She never told you,
did she?

- No.

She never did.

- Miss Dill.

- Cyrus.

- The senator
would like to meet.

- I'm on personal leave.
Bereavement.

- The senator knows
and extends his condolences.

- If he extends them
any further,

he might strain something.

- I will be coordinating
his arrival later today.

We'll be in touch.
- He could call me.

- This isn't the sort of thing
one discusses on telephones.

It never is.

How about a hint?

- Your loss, while tragic,

presents an opportunity.

- Here it comes.

- One of the targets
of the senator's investigation,

of your investigation,
makes his home here.

While in town,
you could depose him.

You know Spivey well,
I believe.

- I do.

- It would save us
a subpoena,

and all of this
could be expensed.

- Fine.

- You'll do it?

- I'll talk to the senator
about it.

- That tamale,
was it good?

- The best.
- Where'd you get it?

- Lupe's.
- Spell it?

- L-U-P-E-S.

- Apostrophe?

- Of course.

- We'll be in touch.

- Got him?

- Yeah.
- Grab the tail.

- I got the tail.
Give me a hand.

- Come on, pull him back!
Pull him back!

- Press Club.
- Allegra Dill.

- Jesus.

- I heard about your sister.

I'm sorry.

- Thanks.

- So who did it?

- They don't know.

Who's working
the police beat

for "The Chronicle"
these days?

- Who else?

Freddie Laffter.

- No.

- Yes.

- Does he still have
dinner here every night?

- Eight o'clock on the dot.

- How about another?

- Listen, Pick,
a word of advice:

if you're going to treat
Freddie Laffter,

you're going to have
to pace yourself.

You want to talk
about your sister.

- I do.

- See this?

- I did.

A bit flowery,
don't you think?

- Lalo, God damn it,

treat us like gentlemen,
get us some cognac.

- All right, you want
the good stuff?

- Bring him the good stuff.

- Your funeral, Miss Dill.

If you need anything else,
just let me know, okay?

- How come they treat you
like a white man?

Nacho still lets me
smoke in here.

Mainly because he's hoping
I'll croak faster.

You want one?

- No, thanks.

Jesus, if there's
one thing I can't stand,

it's a controlled drinker.

Well, to our most
enduring myth:

the bibulous newspaperman.

- Tell me about
Captain Colder.

- Your almost brother-in-law?

- You knew about that, then?

- Well, they didn't exactly
try to hide it.

But she didn't tell you,
did she?

No.

Must have had her reasons.
- Such as?

- Why don't you ask
Captain Colder?

- He says he thought
she'd told me.

- Called her a liar?

That's not very nice.

But who pays for nice nowadays?

- He says she was
a pretty good cop.

- She was okay.

Moved up quick.

- Who do you think
killed her?

- Someone with money.

- What makes you say that?

- The bomb.

Done by a pro.

C4 plastic,
mercury fulminator.

Very classy.

That probably means
out-of-state talent,

and that means money.

- Okay. That's who.

What about why?

- A guess?

- Sure.

- She found out something

that could stop
whoever hired the bomber

from being rich anymore.

By the way,
you lied to me.

You do want one.

I know about
the apartment complex.

I decided not to run it.
For now.

- You think she was
on the take?

- I don't know.

Who was the richest man in town
last time you were here?

- Probably old lady Bains.

- Ha! Becky. Yeah.

You know she burned
with the sugar factory.

- I'd heard.

- An entire goddamn city block,
turned to caramel.

No, you know who
I'm talking about, right?

- I do.

- You going to see him?

- I don't suppose
I can avoid it much longer.

Is it possible to send
someone up to the ninth floor?

There's a tray of food
that's been checked in

as long as I have.

- Jeez.

I am so sorry, Miss...

- Dill.
- Doll?

- Dill.

- I do apologize.

We're just a little
short-staffed

ever since the situation.

- Situation?
- The animals.

From the zoo.

Cody was mauled by a tiger,
I'm afraid--

- A tiger?
- Yes, ma'am.

- They haven't caught
the tiger?

- No, miss.

But, you know,
fingers crossed.

- God damn it!

- Senator?

In the dark?

- Cyrus told you
I was coming.

- That's not the same thing,
and you know it.

Where does your wife
think you are tonight?

- San Antonio. Fundraiser.

- Dinner?
- Yup.

- How's the soup?

- I never eat the soup.

- You going to survive?

- It looks like it.

How are you?

Swell.

I take it Cyrus
already made the ask.

Allegra, it makes me sick
having you do this,

but you're already here.

Have you seen him?

- I've been a little busy.

- Have you had any contact
with him at all?

- Someone murdered my sister,
Senator.

Someone with money.

- And I'm terribly sorry.

Do you think
it was Spivey?

- I don't think anything.

He was my friend.

And then he wasn't.

Can I get a drink?

- We're out of soda.

- Ha. Cute.

- These for me?

You shouldn't have.

- The hearing's in a month.

If we have any chance
at nailing Brattle,

we need Spivey to flip.

- We need to catch
Brattle first.

- We're close.

When you do see Spivey,

I'm going to need you
to wear a wire.

- I won't do it.

- Will you wear anything?

- God damn it.

Open hand.
We said open hand.

- I'm going to get
the bottle now.

- Pick.

So glad you came.

Mwah.

Thank you, darling.

- Does she talk?

- Daisy?

Sure, she's a chatterbox.

All depends on the topic.

Well, go on,
sit down, will you?

You got me feeling
nervous as hell.

You know...

I didn't see Felicity
all that much.

Not the biggest fan of cops,
just as a general rule.

But...

well, she seemed like
a good one.

Say, you want something?

I got soda pop, beer,

a little coke if you like
that sort of thing.

- I'll take a beer.

- Okay.

There you go.

- You know, the first beer
I ever had

was probably about
60 feet away, over that hedge.

- You gave me that one too.

- Shit,
you remember that?

- You said you'd own
this place someday.

- Yeah, and I do.

- Hang your boots
on the porch.

And I did.

- Yeah, you said
a lot of things.

The giraffes.
From the zoo?

- No.
Those are mine.

You know how I feel
about tall ladies.

Well, God damn.

This ain't
just like you, Pick.

Mixing business with sorrow.

So, what are you
really here to do?

Put me in handcuffs?
- No.

- You still like that stuff,
though, right?

Handcuffs?

All right, what's your little
baby senator want?

A deposition?

How's it work?

- I ask you questions,

you answer truthfully
to the best of your ability.

Shit, Pick,

that's never been one
of my better abilities.

- They found
Clyde Brattle, Jake.

- Bullshit.

- Truth.

And where was he?

Old San Juan?

Or Cape Town?

One of the Tripolis?

Please.

More folks have seen
Clyde Brattle since Aleppo

than Elvis,
Tupac, and Jesus combined.

And he's deader
than all three of them.

- Mexico City.

Which means he's extraditable.

The senator only needs
one of you.

Do you mind
if I record this?

Or should we just use yours?

- My what?

- Recorder you got set up
in here.

How long's that been going?

- From the second
you walked in the room.

God damn.

Is it bad this is turning me on
a little bit?

That's truthful.

Okay, we can use my tape.

- Okay. Here we go.

This is the sworn testimony
of John Jacob Spivey,

taken on August
something-or-other

right here in his goddamn
obscene mansion.

You are John Jacob Spivey.

- Always have been.

- State your age.

- 38, same as you.

Happy birthday,
by the way.

- You are an American citizen?

- I am.

- Occupation?

- I'm retired.

- Prior to that.

- I was engaged

in the purchase and sale
of defensive weaponry.

- Before that?

- I was a contract employee
of a government agency.

- Which agency?

- One of the ones

you're not supposed
to talk about on the record.

- Where were you hired?

- Well, I guess I got
the real heavy thumb

when I was deployed.

- In Iraq.
- In and around there, sure.

- Can you disclose
the nature of your duties

while in government service?

- Ha!
Shit, no.

- Due to oaths
of service sworn to,

or fears of self-incrimination?

When did you meet
Clyde Tomerlin Brattle?

- 2006 or around there.

- What was the nature
of your relationship?

- He was my boss.

- And what was the nature
of your work together?

- You know those tall,
extra faucets

American ladies
love to have?

Well, it turns out hardly
anybody in the Middle East

has one of those suckers.

And old Clyde and I thought
that was a shame.

So we'd go around
to all the little hovels

in Mosul and Tikrit and...

you know, kind of do some
light plumbing work

in a humanitarian
sort of way.

Liquid Outreach, we called it.
- Cut the shit.

- Come on, you're the one
peddling it, girl.

You think I give a fuck
about oaths?

Look, I was 31 when I got out
and an old man.

I mean up here.

I'm 102 up here, Pick.

I've seen some shit.
I was in even more of it.

They paid me
10,000 bucks a week

to do stuff that I won't even
let myself remember.

- Poor war criminal Jake.

- Fuck you, Pick.

- Fuck you.

You think I got to be young
and carefree?

Do you remember what happened
12 years ago?

Can you testify
to how much money

Clyde Brattle had
under his control

before he went missing
in Aleppo?

- Enough to make your boss
and a couple other governments

awful mad.

- You haven't had any contact
with Clyde Brattle since?

- What's the ask, Pick?

You want names and dates
and receipts?

You offering immunity?

Well.

Put it in writing.

Well, I'd like to put
some thought into this.

You sticking around?

- Till I find out what happened
to Felicity, sure.

She's dead, Jake.

- There's always
a dead girl, Pick.

Don't you go to the movies?
Watch the news?

The trick is keeping yourself
out of the equation.

- What's that supposed to mean?
- Well, number one,

don't be the dead girl.

And second, don't be
the poor hopeless fucker

trying to find out
who killed her.

- And what about the one
who did the killing?

- In my experience...

he always gets away with it.

- I want to tell you
about your girlfriend.

- What about my girl?

- I'm strong enough.
- I might hurt your feelings.

- My feelings already hurt
about being here with you.

- Well...

- And the wind was blowing
real hard.

- Is that right?

- I'm old enough
to remember

when we used to have
seasons around here.

Now we just have
broiler settings.

You disappoint me,
Miss Dill.

If you wanted a look-see,
all you had to do was ask.

- I thought that was
against procedure.

You really have
been gone a long time.

Lock up when you're done.

Take your time.

- You know
what they call these?

This is a get fiddle.

- A what?

- It's a get fiddle.

- Why is it a get fiddle?

- You'll get it
and bring it to me

so I can fiddle with it.

- I want to play something
that you can sing.

- Okay, well, I can sing
"You Are My Sunshine."

- I thought
you'd be longer.

- Where did
my sister live?

- Excuse me?

Right upstairs.

- Wait.
That was your sister?

- Yeah, I can show you
the deed.

It's yours now anyway,
by rights.

- I'll ask again.

Where did my sister live?

Cindy, take that inside.

We're going to have
a little chat.

- Sure thing, Chief.

Sorry for your loss.

- Tarragon, God damn it.

- What now?
- Tarragon. It's an herb.

Felicity loved it.

Dumped it on just
about everything.

Chicken. Fish. White chili.

- There's not a trace of it
in that apartment,

same as there aren't any books,

which is, by the way,

what my sister
liked to read,

two at a time,

not magazines.

- Books?
- Yeah, books.

Felicity wasn't neat, Chief.

She didn't hang Impressionist
prints on her wall

like a fucking
depressed secretary.

She didn't press and fold
her underwear.

She left piles.

Nests.

- Miss Dill, you really need
to calm down.

- No one lived
in that apartment.

Certainly not my sister.

- When was the last time
you saw Felicity?

- Three years ago.

She came to D. C.
for a few days.

- The last time
you were here?

- Nine years before that.

- Doesn't sound like
you were particularly close.

I say that because police work

has a funny way
of changing people.

Makes them a lot less sloppy
in all areas of their life.

- Tell me where
my sister lived,

or so help me God, I will burn
this city to the ground.

- I believe you would, too.

Okay, Miss Dill.

Maybe your sister didn't live
at this address.

At least not full-time.

- Why?

- Perhaps it wasn't safe.

- What did she have
to be afraid of?

- Everything.

If you're smart
in this life,

you'll be afraid
of everything.

I tried to teach
Felicity that.

Whoo!

Mercy, it is hot.

- Who killed my sister?

- You're just like her,
aren't you?

Who killed--?

- Okay, Miss Dill.

I can show you something.

It ain't much,

but it's something I think
you'd like to see.

- What?

- Where your sister lived.

Where Felicity
actually lived.

You know, I had an old
desk sergeant

that used to say that
being a cop in Saint Disgrace

was kind of like being a salad
on the menu at a burger joint.

You're just there
to make people feel like

they have a choice.

- Felicity seemed to think
it was more than that.

I was a friend of your sister.

I can be your friend, too.
- Hey, there, Pick!

- Mr. Singe.

Chief!

Where you two headed
on a cool night like this?

Hey, y'all need to be
in some air conditioning

or a meat locker
if you're lucky.

You know,
I was on my way

to get a cocktail.

You know, hopefully
one of them frozen ones,

if you guys care
to join me.

- Maybe you can do catch-up
some other time.

Miss Dill and I
have some business.

- Okay, I mean,
are you sure about that?

Because, I mean, it's going
to be really refreshing.

- I think it can wait.

- I think that...

I think that...

- What?

- You feeling okay, son?

- Yeah, never been better.

Maintenant.

- Chief, it'll keep
until tomorrow.

- Suit yourself.

- I'll meet you at the station
in the morning.

- You have a fine night, Chief.

I'm parked right over here.

- Y'all be safe.

- Pick!

- My goodness!

- Pick...I got you.

- Hey, y'all all right?

- Thank you.

- Don't mention it.

Had a day?

- You could say that.

- I will try to make this
as quick as possible.

How are you
with needles?

- I'm okay.

- Not so bad, right?

All done.

You're all done.

It's okay.

Hey, I've got you.

You're okay.

You're okay.

- What?

What?

Yeah, I thought so.

["I Walked with a Zombie"
by Roky Erickson]