Homicide: Life on the Street (1993–1999): Season 4, Episode 7 - Heartbeat - full transcript

Where's the body?

- What have we got?
- Cindy Fuller, 20-years-old, strangled.

Fresh needle marks on her left arm.
Traces of semen where you'd expect.

Pretty posh for a shootin'
gallery. Does the girl live here?

Er... Apparently not. That's
her friend, Alexandra DeMoss.

So, what happened?

- I don't know anything about it.
- Cindy's your friend, right?

She freaked. She
shouldn't have freaked.

Oh, for crying out...

Are we gettin' a name
on a lease here, fellas?

- Er... Boomer Mason.
- Did Boomer kill Cindy?



- I told her, "Count to ten and it's over."
- He raped her?

She freaked. It
was her first time.

She didn't think it
would be a big deal.

She sold her booty for heroin?

So, what's the hype going for? 40
bucks? Forty bucks for a spike, right?

- I wish.
- You can't afford the stuff?

- We're students.
- Students?

All right, so where did
Boomer... Mason go to?

Straight to hell, I hope.

I was at the dentist. I don't
know anything about a girl.

So, how does Cindy wind
up dead in your apartment?

- Must've been a mistake.
- A mistake?

So, she thought, "Oh, I think
I'm gonna get myself strangled"?

But she winds up in the wrong
apartment, your apartment, to do it?



Yeah, like that.

Look, your place is a drugstore, OK?
High class junkies come in there to cop,

rent space to shoot
up, buy fresh needles.

- Wrong Boomer Mason.
- We got a witness.

They see Alexandra DeMoss

and Cindy Fuller come to
your apartment at 6:30 last night.

You come out 20 minutes
later looking scared.

- Alexandra and Cindy never come out.
- No way! No shape or form.

OK, all right. I'll tell you what,
let's have a chat with your dentist.

What's his phone number?

What's his name? Huh?

My, oh, my. It looks like we've
cracked this case, Detective Mikey.

Here's the autopsy report
on Ali Ben Mohammad.

- Hey, Alyssa.
- Hi.

- You didn't have to bring that here.
- I needed the exercise.

What are you talkin'
about? You're in great shape.

Well, not really. But... thanks.

Well... I'd better
get back. Er... Bye.

Later.

♪ You're the top,
you're the Colosseum

♪ You're the top, you're
the Louvre Museum ♪

♪ You're the melody
from a symphony by Strauss

♪ You're the top,
you're Mickey Mouse ♪

Don't tell me you're
watching soap operas again?

That's what we have instead
of a sex life. Leave us alone.

What about you? How come
you're so musical this morning?

I'm still the same miserable me.

- You were singing.
- Was I?

- Mm-hm.
- I didn't realise.

Don't touch it, Munch!

You should take it home,
Kay. It's probably a stray.

Pets make a better antidote to
loneliness than daytime drama.

Judy found the
thing under Gee's car.

Black cat walks in front in front of
you, you act like nothin' happened?

What do you suggest?
Tie garlic around its throat?

Nah. Stand up, close your eyes
and you turn around nine times.

You see it as some kind of sign,

some feline embodiment
of ill fortune and despair,

and only through doing your little
dance, spinning blindly in circles,

can it help to fend off impending
doom? Is that what you believe, Kay?

Don't say you weren't warned.

Munch, Howard, I want to see
you both in my office, ASAP.

What'd I tell you,
huh? Get rid of it.

- Are you feelin' better?
- About what?

- About Mary being pregnant.
- You haven't told anyone, have you?

- No.
- Good.

- So, are you feeling better.
- Let's drop it, OK?

OK.

I just can't help feeling that you're
torturing yourself for no good reason.

Keeping it secret won't make
the world a better place to live.

All it's gonna do is... It's going to
keep you from celebrating, Frank.

Lewis and Kellerman, in the
course of a sterling interrogation,

have unearthed an
old crime. Maybe.

Munch, you handle it,
Howard, you supervise.

- How old is this crime?
- Ten years.

The victim's a John Doe.
There's no known suspect.

And there's no known date of
commission for the crime. I mean...

According to the source, there's a
body buried at 67 Caroline Street.

In the basement.
An abandoned house.

Look, I've got uniforms over
there now digging up the place.

- Why can't they do it?
- We'd like to help you out, Kay.

We've got to take care of the paperwork
on the original case, talk to the Attorney.

We don't have time at this moment to
be trackin' ghosts that maybe don't exist.

Screw you, Meldrick.
Who is the informant?

A Mr Boomer Mason. He
sells dope out of his apartment.

He killed a girl, gave us
the tip, thinking we'd trade.

Some guy tells some dope-dealing
stranger where he buried a body?

The exact location, the
address, the basement?

- It's a miracle.
- Gee, this is a waste of time.

No such thing. Every
moment in life is precious.

Er... Oh, boy!

Why the long face, Tim?

You ever have a friend who is really
deeply troubled about something,

and you wanted to say the right thing,
the thing that would make him cheer up,

cos he had every reason to cheer up?
For God sake, the guy's havin' a baby.

- Who's havin' a baby?
- I can't tell you. That's what's twisted.

The guy's havin' a baby, and he won't
share the news with his colleagues.

So, Mary's pregnant?

What? Oh, no, no, no!
I didn't say that. Uh-uh.

Frank's your partner, and I'm a
detective, and you're a bad liar.

I gave him my word I
wouldn't tell anyone.

- I won't tell a soul.
- OK.

If it's bad luck when a black cat
walks in front of you, why take chances?

Kay, our lives aren't
ruled by omens.

Why wear your yellow
socks to that exam?

I like yellow. It doesn't
make me superstitious.

You wore them cos you were afraid
if you didn't, you'd flunk. Admit it.

I don't dwell in make-believe.

- Sergeant.
- Sergeant.

- You find anything?
- Candy wrappers, coke bottles, cans.

- No sign of a buried body.
- We're on a snipe hunt.

- Have you checked the walls?
- Walls?

Yeah, the walls. Ask yourself,

if you were gonna bury a
guy, where would you do it?

- In a cemetery.
- I'd avoid the ground.

Look for somethin' a
little sneakier, more subtle.

- There.
- What?

- See the mortar's a different grade?
- Yeah.

Sound hollow to you?
Sounds hollow to me.

Open it up.

Superstition is everything we
spent centuries trying to escape -

the insane, the illogical, the dark
and spooky corners of our souls.

We're not livin' in the Dark Ages.
We are well into the "Fluorescent Era".

Take a gander, Sergeant.

Look at this, there's
scratches on this thing.

- He was tryin' to claw his way out.
- He was buried alive.

Any sign of trauma?

No skeletal damage.
The cranium's intact.

Scheiner confirms the
date of death. Ten years ago.

- How can he tell?
- Skeletised remains.

Humidity speeds up decomposition,
not to mention the worms.

Any idea who he was?

According to his engraved
Timex, his name was Eugene Elwin.

We ran a check. Eugene Elwin
went missing ten years ago.

We checked records. Showed a
broken leg that matched. It's the same guy.

Eugene had a record. Arrested for
possession of a controlled substance.

According to Missing Persons,
he vanished on June 26th 1985,

as reported by his
girlfriend, Sharon Guinness.

That's him before Jenny Craig.

- This case'll go up in blue.
- Ten years, it should go up in rust.

- Hey. Find the girlfriend, talk to her.
- OK, Gee.

- Hey, Frank.
- Hi, Captain.

- Don't worry.
- Don't worry about what?

Well, the things that often frighten us
are the things that we want the most.

You know, in... my experience.

- Captain, are you OK?
- Your secret's safe with me, Frank.

How long could you survive
being buried in a wall like that?

I dunno. No food, no
water. Maybe a week.

Stuffed in there like human
insulation, There's nothing worse.

There's drowning, water
rushing into your lungs.

Once the moment
comes, it's over quickly.

Being buried alive is agonising.

The walls close in. You
can't move or breathe.

You only listen to your
heartbeat. Imagine that.

Hey, John.

- Sharon Guinness?
- Over there. Station Four.

- Sharon?
- That's me.

We're detectives from
the City Homicide Unit.

- Homicide?
- You recognise this?

It's Eugene's.
Where'd you find it?

Eugene is dead. He was murdered.

- Oh, my God!
- Sorry, Mrs Shiffman.

I reported him missing ten
years ago. You just found him?

- It's not a perfect world.
- Any ideas what happened?

We were supposed to have dinner
together that night. He never showed.

I thought that he just stood me up. Men
are like that. Commitment terrifies them.

They are pigs, all of them.

Whoa, whoa! Not necessarily.
Not each and every man.

Some of us have
some occasional virtues.

Eugene had trouble with drugs.

Maybe drugs had something
to do with his death?

No, he was clean
by then. No drugs.

Any idea who would
want to kill him?

No. Eugene was a sweet
man. Weak, but sweet.

Where were you
when he disappeared?

- I told you... Waiting for him.
- No, before that.

It was my day off. I
was living with my sister.

Thank you very much.

- You think Sharon killed Elwin?
- No.

- Why not?
- She's too pretty.

You gotta be kiddin'?

Pretty girls don't have to
kill. They get what they want.

Listen, drop me off
at my place, will you?

We gotta go check
Sharon's alibi.

It's important,
Kay. I've got a date.

Again?

I wasn't going to tell you before
on account of the amatory desert

that you presently
inhabit, but... I'm in love.

- You, in love?
- Yes.

- Does this poor girl have a name?
- Never mind.

- Oh, come on.
- Alyssa Dyer.

Dyer? The ME?

How did you ask her out? She's
cuttin' open some poor stiff's spleen

and you say, "How
about some Chinese?"

Knock it off.

Alyssa is my Beatrice, my
Penelope, my Josephine.

I mean it. I'm serious.

I've seen the wreckage
of your love life.

Wife Number one, Gwen,
wife Number Two, Maria,

not to mention the various and
sundry girlfriends - Felicia, Brigitta...

This time's gonna be different.
I'm gonna change my ways.

What are you tellin' me here?

I will never look at
another woman again.

Hi.

You mind tellin' me what's goin'
on here, Officer? Is Alyssa OK?

She called from
work, had to stay late.

She'll be back by
about nine. Nice zinnias.

- And you are?
- Serena Boch. Her new roommate.

Roommate? Since when?

Since about eight this morning. Would
you mind helping me with this mattress?

Sure...

- Oh!
- Oh! Sorry.

That's OK. My fault. You got a
lot of money in this thing, or what?

Hey, Sarge, capture
any bad guys today?

I talked to Sharon Guinness' sister.
She said Sharon was with her all night.

He scores!

What about Boomer Mason,
you put down for killin' the girl?

- He knows more?
- Nah, he was trying to save his ass.

- I doubt he held anything back.
- Pay him a visit to City Jail.

While you're there, do your civic
duty and shoot the son of a bitch.

- Oh, Frank?
- Mmm?

I know I'm not supposed to
say anything, but I think it's great.

You and Mary, really terrific.

What have I done? I've ruined
everything, that's what I've done.

In the same brief moment
that you initiate your new abode,

I annihilate my relationship. Just
like that, boom! Hiroshima, mon amour.

Let's not forget who
unhooked who's holster.

Shouldn't you be putting
some clothes on? Oh, God!

This is a nightmare.
Oh, I'm a weak man.

I thought I had changed,
found true love, a pious future.

But then, you opened the
door in that damned uniform.

I was doomed. I was doomed,
like an addict in Amsterdam.

- I was like retriever in heat.
- You're overreacting.

I love Alyssa, she's my angel
in a white lab coat. And you...

- I'm what?
- You're a cop.

- I hear keys.
- Oh, God!

- Sorry I'm late. Been here long?
- Not at all, mere seconds.

I was just in there helping Serena
unpack. She's taking a shower.

She was hot... from
all the unpacking. Here.

- You OK?
- Fine. Let's go.

I gotta change.

- You look great.
- But, no... But, why?

- You found the body?
- We found the body.

That means you're gonna
deal, get me out of here?

- You didn't put that body there?
- Would I tell you where to find him?

Maybe to get your
sorry ass outta here.

Tell us about this guy
that confessed to you.

I brought dope from him
once, maybe five years ago.

- Where?
- By that church on Fayette and Green.

We were sitting on a bench, doin'
a rock, and... he just started talking.

- I don't suppose he told you his name?
- Not likely.

- Why did he spill his guts to you?
- I was there.

- I think he felt guilty.
- Guilty?

Yeah, he... had guilty eyes.

Yeah, what did he look like?
Er... White guy, 53 maybe.

Five foot eight, five
foot nine, red hair.

- What colour were his guilty eyes?
- Blue, I think.

Anything else? Marks? Scars?

He just looked guilty.
What can I tell you?

"Guilty" is not a description
we can put on a bulletin.

We were gettin' high. That's all I
remember. What about my deal?

- Listen, moron...
- There's no deal.

Never was a deal,
never will be a deal.

What? Wait a second!
Well, what is this?

There's a deal.
"There'll be no deal."

Where are the guys that made the deal?
I wanted two guys, not a guy and girl!

I did my part!

- What's the matter?
- Now, get them back! It's a deal!

- Nothing's the matter.
- Oh, something's the matter.

Step back in, hotshot.
You'll get a deal!

- I had sex.
- Well, congratulations.

Not with Alyssa,
with her roommate.

You slept with her roommate?
You slept with her roommate!

- Yes, I did. Now, shoot me.
- I listen to you sing, and leave early.

The next thing I know, you've
got the roommate in bed.

It's no wonder that
two wives left you.

- I couldn't help it.
- You couldn't help it?

No, you chose not to help it.

Kay, I'm a man. Men
do these kind of things.

None of us could help it.
We're prisoners of our libido,

locked within lustful bodies,
unable to control our actions.

- Do you think Alyssa knows?
- I don't want anything to do with it.

You don't think Serena told her, do
you? That would be cruel, wouldn't it?

A man might tell
another man, even brag,

but a woman would be more
sensitive, more discreet, more intelligent.

- She wouldn't tell her, would she?
- I would.

- John!
- Hey, Alyssa.

- You burnt yourself?
- I'll just need a skin graft.

- Where you been?
- Work, home, doing the daily grind.

- They named this place after me.
- I called your apartment, office, the bar.

- You disappeared.
- It's this case, ten years of mildew.

I got worried you were
avoiding me. You wanna talk?

No. I mean, I do, but I can't. Kay's
waitin' for me upstairs, across the street.

- You come here a lot?
- No, first time.

- Have a latte. I'll call later.
- You said that last night.

No, I will. I promise
I won't forget.

Let's make a date for tonight.
Dinner at Webber's at 8:00?

- Sounds great.
- See you there.

- Lotta drug dealers in Baltimore.
- A lot of addicts.

Yeah. Fayette street
has more than it's share.

Douglas Colton, two previous
counts of manslaughter.

- Eyes.
- Er... Hazel.

Blue eye's, Kay.
Guilty blue eyes.

- She's haunting me.
- Who?

Alyssa. Just now at the Daily Grind.
She bumps into me, on purpose.

- It's a public place.
- My public place.

She knows. I don't
know how she knows.

Either Serena told her, or she figured
it out, or she had a telepathic message,

or some divine
inspiration from God.

She found out, and now she's trailing
me around Baltimore like a ghost.

Maybe she actually likes you.

Listen to this, Joseph Cardero,
five foot nine, 160 pounds,

arrested four times
for selling dope.

All four busts same
block on Fayette Street.

The first, ten years ago,
the last, three months ago.

- All roads lead to Fayette street.
- Mm-hm.

- You guys seen Bayliss?
- No.

If you see him, tell
him I'm looking for him.

Frisky Frank! 'Bout time
you popped one in the oven.

How long you and Mary been
together? Eight long, barren years?

You'll make an impressive
father. Frightening, but impressive.

- You seen Bayliss?
- He's in therapy.

Yeah, physical
therapy for his back.

He's gonna need more than
therapy when I get through with him.

- What'd you say his name was?
- Joe Cardero.

Just focus on the picture, OK?

Yeah, I know him.
Hangs over by the church.

You know Joseph
Cardero? Cardero? Sure.

Have you ever seen this guy with
Cardero? It'll be over ten years ago.

Can't say. A lot of people come
shoppin' around Fayette Street.

We're as popular as a
mall. Try the Mermaid Cafe.

Cardero writes about
the darker side of life.

- He writes?
- Well, everyone's a writer.

Cardero comes in here
sometimes and reads.

He'll probably be here tonight.
Do you want to read his poems?

Sure.

"And when asked, the dog,
disparate and void of entity, barked,

'lt was dark, it was dark."'

"Barked, 'lt was dark" '? What's
the difference between that bark

and the bark saying "I'm hungry"? The
bark saying, "Look at that bitch there"?

- It's just a poem, Kay.
- It doesn't make sense. It's stupid.

What are you getting
so upset about?

I just want somethin' in this
case to make sense, huh?

We're investigating a ten-year-old
homicide, a man murdered

with techniques popular
in the tenth Century.

Our suspect, the bard of
Fayette Street, is a babbling idiot.

That doesn't leave a lot of room for
sense. What should I do about Alyssa?

The guilt is eating me up.

You know, Munch, if you
respect her, you'll tell her the truth.

- Confess?
- Yeah.

I can't do that, I
don't want to hurt her.

Why is it you men,
you do somethin' wrong,

and then say the truth is
gonna hurt the woman?

You're just protecting yourself. She
would rather know the truth, believe me.

Whatever else, she'll
appreciate knowin' the truth.

Give her an opportunity
to forgive you.

- Is that Cardero?
- That's him.

Joseph Cardero? We're with
the Baltimore City Homicide.

You remember this guy?

"My friends forsake
me like a memory lost.

"I am the self-consumer
of my woes."

Can you account for your
whereabouts on June 26th, 1985?

Hey, Leon!

Where was I on June 26th, 1985?

You was hangin' with me, Joe. Over
by the doughnut shop on Franklin Street.

Then we took a long
walk, remember?

Got blisters, we walked so far. Up
Charles, down to the Inner Harbor,

back to Fells Point.

Get it straight. I'm a poet. That's
all I know and all I need to know.

Oh...

She's not the literary type. Sadly, I
am. So, let me give you a little quote.

"He who lies to Munch gets his
sorry ass kicke'th." Bill Shakespeare.

- Poe.
- Poe?

As in Edgar Allan Poe, a
onetime resident of this fair city.

Yeah, what about him?

I read Cardero's poems
last night. Most are lousy,

but there was one that was
brilliant. But Cardero didn't write it.

Edgar Allan Poe did. Then I went
back and looked through more poems,

and I found whole
stanza's lifted from Poe.

So, the guy likes Poe?

That church on Fayette Street
where Cardero sells drugs,

guess who's buried there? Poe.

Look, if Joseph Cardero
killed Eugene Elwin,

we still don't have a case, unless
we find someone who puts Cardero

at the crime scene, or
someone who can at least put

Elwin and Cardero together
at some point. Mmm?

- Poe was afraid of women.
- Most men are.

"Pit And The Pendulum",
"Descent Into The Maelstrom",

tales about the
fear of a vagina.

Oh, is there a point to this?

Poe wrote a story about a
man buried inside a cellar wall.

Gee... I want to put
Cardero in The Box. He'll talk.

He's a lunatic poet. He's
got diarrhoea of the mouth.

- I can break him.
- He's a dealer?

- Yeah.
- Get the boys in Narcotics to bust him.

He'll be out on the
street again in a blink.

I can't remember the last time I saw
such zeal in your pursuit of justice,

not in months, years.

Unfortunately, you've
not got enough evidence.

In fact, you haven't
got any evidence.

What's wrong with takin' a shot?

You can question him with nothing
to go on, and maybe lose him.

Or you can wait to find something
to question him, and maybe bust him.

Frank?

You're a man who
worries about everything.

It's your nature, you
can't help yourself.

That's the reason why
you're a good detective.

It may be even the reason
why you're a great detective.

It's also the reason why
you're a screwed-up individual.

Let this thing go, Frank.

I mean...

having kids could be the best
thing that ever happened to you.

Take it from me, when I
think about my children...

Gee, Gee... where's Bayliss?

I haven't got a clue.

- Morning, Officer.
- Detective.

A man of the law, that's what counts.
Keeping our streets safe. I love it.

- I bet you do. How's business?
- Well, what can I say? Poetry sells.

- Who's buried back there, Cardero?
- Er... Dead people.

- How about a dead poet?
- Poets never die.

Are you a poet?

God made the sun hot, God made
these streets mean, God made me a poet.

Ergo, poets die.

Do you ever think what
it's like to be buried alive?

Closed up in a tiny little box,
walls closing in, screaming for air.

Complete darkness. Nothing to
listen to, except your own heartbeat.

Just your heart beating faster
and faster, louder and louder.

- 'Hey, it's Alyssa.'
- Oh, no!

'Thanks for the latte earlier. All
that caffeine, I'm still feeling wired.

'I'll see you tonight.'

'Hi, it's me again. I'm a
Webber's. You said 8:00, right?

'Er... I'll try the office.'

'Hi, I'm home. Call me.'

'Hi, it's Alyssa again... '

'Hi.'

- Ten years ago...
- I was young.

- You sold dope on Fayette Street.
- I was stupid.

- Now you're a model citizen.
- Exemplary.

Ten years ago you sold
dope to Eugene Elwin.

The names blur. Ten
years ago he disappears.

I've got nothing on that.

Ten years ago someone
kills Elwin by burying him alive

in a basement
on Caroline Street.

I've got nothing
on that, either.

How come it's your name Elwin
scratched on the wall before he died?

Eugene Elwin's last words,
the last thing on his mind, you.

That's not my name.
It's missing an "O".

Don't get picky. He
was weak, he was dying.

There must be a lot of
Cardero's in Baltimore.

No, there's not too
many. We checked it out.

None with a connection
to the deceased,

or a criminal
record, except you.

- I'm not guilty.
- Are you superstitious, Cardero?

No.

Pray continue, Sergeant
Howard. I'll be right back.

- He's weird.
- He's all right.

- Could I get something to drink?
- We're out. Machine's busted.

- I'm thirsty.
- I'm sorry.

- Get that thing away from me!
- It's just a cat, Cardero.

Say, "hi". What's the
matter, don't you like cats?

Ah! I thought you said
you weren't superstitious.

"It will be remembered that
black cats are all of them witches."

OK, come on. Sit
down, it's all right.

Er... I'm... I'm telling
you, he's weird.

- He's...
- Maybe you're right.

He's...

- What did Elwin do to piss you off?
- Huh? Er... Nothing.

Nothing? He must
have done something.

You don't kill
somebody over nothing.

Unless it was an accident,
huh? Was it an accident?

- No.
- Did you kill him on purpose?

- No.
- Was it on purpose, or an accident?

Er... Neither.

I'm not following you. How
else do you kill someone?

I didn't kill him.

Nah, you just bricked
him up into a wall, right?

Ever read "The Telltale Heart"?

No... yes.

- Well, which is it?
- Yes.

Oh... Our hero kills a man,
buries him under the floor.

The cops come.

All our hero can hear is
the thump-thump-thump

of a beating heart
beneath the floorboards.

Hmm. Poe had a
fertile imagination.

- You admire him?
- Poe was a visionary.

Poe, being a fellow poet
and drug addict, and all.

He died in the gutter,
didn't he? Here in Baltimore.

That's why you work the same
corner, in front of his grave?

Yes.

That spot on Fayette Street,
that's your good luck spot?

Right.

What you're tellin' us
is you are superstitious?

- OK, OK. I'm superstitious.
- Mm-hm.

So what?

Have we established what it
was that Elwin did to piss you off?

- He stole my book.
- What book?

"The Selected Poetry
And Prose Of Poe".

It had my name in it,
"Ex-libris, Joseph Cardero."

Your lucky book? Your muse? I'll bet
that really screwed up your inspiration

when you didn't get
it back, being a poet.

Hello, Joe! Are
you still with us?

- That book was mine.
- Absolutely.

He wouldn't give it
back. So, you killed him.

I didn't... I didn't do it. I'm a
poet. Poet's don't kill people.

You ever hear of poetic
justice? Here's poetic justice.

You killed him, but
you can't escape him.

Everyday, every night, you
hear the beating of his heart.

His heart won't die. It just keeps
on beating and beating and beating.

I didn't do it, and no sorry ass tape
recording's gonna make me say I did.

I know the truth, and the
truth... is gonna set me free.

Turn it off, Judy.

- He's guilty.
- He's free.

- Sometimes I hate my job.
- It'll pass. We'll all get over it.

We'll forget about
Cardero, Eugene Elwin,

and his lovely girlfriend, Sharon.
Time heals all wounds, right?

Not quite. As per your advice,
I'm gonna tell Alyssa the truth.

I can't live like this anymore.

- You told Russert.
- Excuse me?

About the baby.

- Oh, she says that I told her?
- No, but I can tell she knows.

The only way she knows is if you
tell her, which means you betrayed me.

- You betrayed a confidence.
- Frank, listen, I...

Frank... I am your partner.
You get that? Your partner.

How can you say or think
these things about me?

Shame on you. Do you think that I
would betray you? I would never betray you.

You not only told Russert, you told
Howard, Giardello, Lewis and Kellerman.

I did not.

Then Russert did, which
still makes you guilty.

I hope you and
your back rot in hell.

Stop it!

- Beer, Frank?
- Huh?

It's free. You
know, on the house.

You know, listen, Frank.
Let's suppose that, you know,

just for a second that
I did tell... You know,

I let slip to Russert
that... Mary was pregnant,

and that she told everyone else
because she can't keep her big mouth shut.

I didn't, of course, but suppose that I
did. I'm curious, what's the big deal?

I don't have many friends, Tim,
not many people I could trust with a...

a secret. Mary and, er,
you. That's... That's about it.

Why are you bein' so uptight about this?
I don't understand. You should be happy.

Look, I made a mistake,
which is my fault. I trusted you.

But we learn from our
mistakes, so it'll be a long time

before I trust you again...

Go on back to the bar and finish
your beer. I'll see you tomorrow, OK?

- Hey, Frank! Look...
- Go on back to the bar, man. Go.

♪ ... You're the top,
you're the Louvre museum

♪ You're the top,
you're the top... ♪

- What happened?
- Wounded in a duel.

- A duel?
- I told Alyssa.

- She hit you?
- With a roundhouse.

Boy, that woman is
strong. I love her even more.

You should have seen her eyes,
all glowing with rage. It was wild.

Yeah, but John, it was
my idea. I feel terrible.

I don't, I feel great. No more
guilt. Now I can start over.

Now I can try to
win her back again.

Nothing bestirs a man like
a grand and noble quest.

- Goodnight.
- Goodnight, Kay.

♪ You're the top. You're
the Colosseum... ♪

"By a route obscure and lonely

"Haunted by ill angels only...

"By a spot most unholy

"In a... nook most melancholy

"There the traveller
meets aghast

"Sheeted memories of the past

"Shrouded forms
that start and sigh

"As they pass the wanderer by

"White-robed forms of friends

"Long given... in agony,

"To the Earth... and Heaven"