Quincy M.E. (1976–1983): Season 7, Episode 1 - Memories of Allison - full transcript

Ugh, gross city!

Well, actually,
they're gross sections.

You see, one is a healthy liver
and the other one is a sick one.

Sick is right.

You know, Quince, maybe it wasn't
such a good idea to use these visual aids.

Don't look at me. It wasn't
my idea. It was Asten's idea.

The one day high school kids
have a chance to compare us

side by side with other careers,

we're as popular
as truant officers.

What exactly is the pathology
of that liver specimen?

Oh, uh, viral hepatitis. Why don't you
take a look through the microscope?



See, it's a slide from
the same diseased tissue.

How can you be sure
it's viral hepatitius?

It's our job to know. Take
another look. Go ahead.

See... see the red structures
near the center of the field?

- Yeah.
- Those are
shriveled up liver cells.

See the blank spaces? That's where
cells have dropped out completely.

But isn't this the identical cell
damage you'd see if someone had

a toxic reaction to
certain anesthetics?

Yeah!

Then again, there's no fatty change
on these cells to indicate a toxic origin.

Where'd you learn all that?

From reading.

I'm a... I'm kind of a
forensic medicine nut.

Oh, I've even applied for a
summer job at the coroner's office.



Terrific! What's your name?

Jerome Flasker.

How do you do?
I'm Doctor Quincy.

- Hi, there.
- This is Sam Fujiyama.

- Hi, Jerome.
- Well, we could use your help.

- Great!
- Push his application
through immediately,

- will ya?
- Right.

All right. Thanks.

I'm gonna show you the X-rays of
a two thousand-year-old mummy.

There's the brain
mass. Notice the teeth...

One good prospect worth
thousand lousy ones, huh?

Yeah. How about celebrating
with a cup of coffee?

- Black. I'd love it.
- Okay.

Why are you following me?

Why are you following
me? What do you want?

Get away, please.
Get away from me! No!

Don't touch her! I'm a doctor.

Don't move her!

Both you nurses, come down here!

- How is she?
- She's stable.

They're transporting
her to Hill Memorial.

Quincy, do you realize that if we
visited the scene of every accident

the criminals in this town
would have a field day.

Wha'd you call us for?

'Cause it was not an accident.

But everyone we've asked says
nobody was near her when she fell.

I'm tellin' you, she fell because
somebody scared the wits out of her.

- Who scared her?
- I don't know, he was hidden.

- How do you know it was a he?
- I don't, but...

But what, huh?

Hey, are we supposed
to ignore fifteen witnesses

and all the instincts we have?

Do me a favor. Just once,
give me the benefit of the doubt.

Look around, investigate,
see what you can find.

I'm goin' to the hospital,
see how the woman is.

Hi, there. How ya feelin'?

My head hurts.

You've been out
of it for a while.

Where am I?

County General Hospital.

Hospital?

I'm Doctor Gilliam.
This is Doctor Quincy.

He's the one who took care of
you till they brought you here.

How do you feel?

Like I'm balancing a
locomotive on my head.

I'm okay, I think.

Do you remember who you
were talking to when it happened?

When what happened?

Were you staying at that hotel?

Hotel? What hotel?

The Plaza, where you fell.

Fell?

What is this place?
What's happening?

We need your
name for Admissions.

What is it?

Oh, my God!

I don't know.

Nurse, get me Doctor
Langley right away.

Yes, Doctor.

I don't know... I
don't know my name.

- Don't worry...
- I can't remember it!

- Oh!
- You'll be fine...

All right, uh,
let's try this again.

My name's Doctor
Langley. What's yours?

I've told you, I don't know.

No reason to be frightened.

Can you tell me
your parents' names?

Brothers, sisters?

No, I can't.

Back when you were child,

who was your best friend?

- Maybe you had
a favorite teacher?
- No!

Can you tell me who was the
President of the United States

before Truman?

- Franklin Roosevelt.
- Good! Good!

Now, then, I'm going
to name three objects.

Can you just repeat
them back to me?

Armchair, lunchpail, mirror.

Armchair, lunchpail, mirror.

Good, good.

How about finishing
this proverb,

"A penny saved..."

"Is a penny earned."

Remember the first
time you heard it?

No.

Can you remember anything at all
about your life? About who you are?

No. No, I can't.

Those three objects
I mentioned earlier,

can you repeat them
back to me again, please?

Objects?

No, I can't.

How about my name?

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

Post-traumatic
amnesia. Definitely.

And not your
garden variety either.

- Could we get some coffee?
- Sure. Right over here.

The total blank that she's drawing is
usually associated with hysterical amnesia,

where there are
psychological factors.

An emotional
compulsion to forget.

I'm not sure I follow you, sir.

You see, with a
head trauma like this,

in addition to difficulty in
retaining new information,

you commonly get what we call

retrograde amnesia,
meaning a period of time

before the trauma
is obliterated.

How long a period?

Oh, five seconds, five minutes,

months, even years.

The lost years, do
they come back?

Oh, yes.

In the vast majority
of these cases they do.

Not all at once, of course.
But gradually the mind begins

filling in the period
of the blackout,

with the most recent
memories the last ones to return.

Now, you can think of
memories like layers of soil,

with the earliest memories,
those of chilhood, the bedrock.

You see, they're the deepest.
They're the hardest to wash away.

They're the first to come back.

Well, this woman seems to have
had her whole life washed away.

It does appear that way, Doctor.

It's rare, but
retrograde amnesia,

after a trauma like
this, can span a lifetime.

Total loss of identify?

At least for the moment, Doctor.

What's your prognosis?

Oh, that's hard to say.

It depends on much hidden
damage might have been done,

how much white matter
was actually destroyed.

The chances are total amnesia
won't last more than a day or two.

She should start to make
some progress after that.

I'll look in on her
again tomorrow.

Thank you very
much, Doctor Langley.

- Thank you, Doctor.
- Thank you, sir.

Thank you, Doctor.

And thank you, Doctor
Quincy, for your help.

Doctor Quincy... You all right?

Oh, yeah, yeah. I was
just thinking about her.

Drop it!

Drop it, dammit,
or I'll drop you!

So you couldn't get anything
out of him? Not a word?

A couple of four-letter ones.

But don't worry, that's
just the first round.

I'll hold school with him for the
next three months if I have to.

- How's the girl?
- She's still pretty shaky,

but she's glad you got him.

Well, I think we can
all rest a little easier.

I'm not so sure
about that, Lieutenant.

The F.B.I. computer just ID'd
our suspect. It's Albert Buchanan,

alias, Iceman Buchanan.

Buchanan? You gotta be kiddin'.

Why? Who's this Buchanan guy?

A very high-priced assassin
who's the tops in his field.

You oughta be glad
you put him away.

We are, Quince. But that
woman in the hospital...

She's not outta the woods yet.

Somebody hired this clown.

If that somebody wanted her dead
that bad you can bet this won't stop 'em.

And frankly, Quincy,
I don't know what will.

Flowers from a secret admirer.

Mmm!

These clothes, they're so
nice. Where did they come from?

The same. Doctor Quincy.

He got your size from the
dress that you were wearing.

He borrowed your clothes
for some tests they're running.

Trying to figure
out who you are.

Where would you like these?

Oh, I'll take them with me.

Forget-me-nots.

You know, I still don't understand
how I can carry on a conversation

and remember the
name of these flowers,

but I still don't
know my own name.

You know, I don't even know
how I'm supposed to wear my hair.

Well, Doctor Langley
says that you've lost

personal memory, but
not categorical memory.

Different part of the brain.

Now, I'm gonna go see
about getting you discharged.

Doctor Quincy left word that
he'd be picking you up about noon.

You know, when we
finally figure out who I am,

this hospital better hope I'm rich
enough to pay the bill they're padding.

Doesn't matter. It's
all been taken care of.

Doctor Quincy.

By the way,

your hair, it's almost like it was
when you were first admitted.

There's hope.

Sam, we may just have something
from that debris in her pockets

that could help to identify her.

What is it?

It's what's left of a piece of
paper I took out of her pocket.

It's obviously been
through the wash.

Uh, there is something on it.

What's it, graphite?

I think so.

But if it had something written
on it in pencil, it's long gone.

- Maybe we better
hit with infra-red.
- Okay, I'll get on it.

I'm gonna come back tonight and I'm
gonna help you test her clothing, okay?

All right.

I've gotta go. Pickin'
her up in twenty minutes.

I'm still working on the lab tests on
your clothes. I also saw your X-rays.

You apparently broke your leg
when you about twelve or thirteen.

There's evidence of
orthopedic surgery.

I feel strange. You know
more about me than I do.

Oh, by the way, I love
the way you made me look.

You'd look good in a burlap bag.

Where are we going, anyway?

Well, I have a secret spot
about thirty minutes out of town.

It's known only to me and
some very high-class squirrels.

I have no trouble
keeping secrets,

even from myself.

A lawyer friend of
mine has a cabin there.

You can stay as
long as you need to.

- Turn right, Quincy.
- What?

Turn right!

- You recognize something?
- Turn right, at the sign. Right here.

Turn left at the next
block. Don't ask me why.

Property's not for sale.

Owner doesn't
give a hoot, I guess.

You wouldn't want
this property anyway.

It's got the devil's own luck.

Because of the fire?

Now, how'd you know about that?

Only that wasn't a fire,

that was hell itself breathin'
up right through the ground.

The house... the
house that was here.

Who lived in it?

Mr. and Mrs. Sirella.
That was a long time ago.

Did they have any children?

Just the one
little girl, Allison.

She was born
right in that house.

The same year the
Second World War ended.

Poor little thing.

She jumped from a second storey
window when the flames got so close.

Broke her leg real good.

Firemen said it was
'cause the wood was so dry.

Whole darn thing just
went up like a bonfire.

No sound. Nothin'. No cracklin'.

Just the sound of the little
one cryin' on the ground, there.

The Sirellas, do you
know where they are now?

Never saw 'em again. They
didn't rebuild after the fire.

Lot's been vacant ever since.

And you... You've
lived here all this time?

Since the beginnin' of
time, as it were, lady.

Look at me, please.

Do you recognize me?

Couldn't I be that little girl?

What?

The little girl you've
just described.

Couldn't it be me?

No. Uh-uh.

It has to be me.

It has to be!

Remember, she was
twelve or thirteen at the time.

Don't matter. She
wasn't nothin' like you.

Why?

Different shaped eyes.

Hers were narrow.

And she had the funniest ears,
they stuck out like pitcher handles.

And the nose, all different.

No. She couldn't have
growed up to be you.

You can't hoodwink
me that easily. No, sir.

Been around too long for that.

You're way too pretty to be her.

That woman may not have
had much of a memory for faces,

but names and dates,
she was right on the money.

Mr. and Mrs. Sirella owned
the property from 1945 to 1961,

and then sold it to S. Levin.

I know, but that woman was
so certain I wasn't their daughter.

Maybe we should just drop it.

Come on, the way you
were drawn to that house.

And you knew about the fire, the
story about that girl with the broken leg.

I can't accept all of
that as coincidence.

I don't know what
to believe anymore.

I think you're hitting bedrock,

your earliest memories, the
way Doctor Langley described it.

The fog is beginning to
break up. It's beginning to lift.

They don't even mention
a daughter in there.

Because your parents owned
the property. It would only list them.

Maybe I'm just so
desperate to be somebody,

to have an identity that I... I
jumped at the first opportunity.

Quincy, you're trying to
force the pieces to fit...

- No... No.
- But they don't fit.

All right. You want
proof? I'll give you proof.

That woman said that Allison
Sirella was born in that house, right?

Well, your birth certificate should
document it one way or the other.

I'm sorry, but I find no
records of an Allison Sirella

born in the county in 1945.

Did you check the year
before and the year after?

I checked for five years on every side
of the date and every possible spelling.

Now, if you don't mind,
I'd like to have my lunch.

How often do you have
omissions like this in the record?

We don't. More than likely
another county has the records.

But she was born in this county!

Then we'd have the document,
wouldn't we? They don't just disappear.

Neither does a
woman's entire life.

You know, for a
person named Sirella,

you're not doing that
Italian salami any justice.

Maybe I'm not very hungry.

I think I know how
you must be feeling.

- Do you?
- Yeah.

I don't know how anybody could.

You wake up and every
face is a stranger's face.

Everything you see you're
seeing for the first time.

And yet you, you know...

You've seen it all before.

I feel like I've been swept
off the face of the earth,

like a crumb off the table.

I could handle
forgetting who I am.

I don't think I can take the
world forgetting who I am.

Oh, but that's temporary. You're
gonna get your memory back.

When?

The doctor says I
have hysterical amnesia.

That means that I could
be doing this to myself.

Now, what if I'm some... some
horrible monster of a person

I don't want to remeber?

That's not true!

You said the man who tried
to kill me was a hired killer.

Now, what kind of connections
did I have with a hired killer?

You lost your memory,
not who you really are.

You're not Doctor
Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

I know you're the same
woman you've always been.

A beautiful, sensitive,
vulnerable woman.

So please, stop it, please!

Quincy... Quincy...

What would I do if I
didn't have you to talk to?

Who would I reach out to?

How would I keep my sanity?

So that's what
memories are made of.

I hate to do this,

but I've got to get
back to the lab.

Sam is waiting for me.
We're testing your clothing.

But I'll be back
as soon as I can.

It'll be so late.

Wait until morning.
I'll be all right until then.

Maybe it'll help if I'm
alone for a little while.

- You sure you feel this way?
- I'm positive.

Okay, but you gotta promise me. The
minute I leave you will lock this door,

you won't let anybody
in no matter what.

Except you.

- Now, promise me.
- Don't worry, I'll be okay.

- Will you promise me?
- I promise.

See you in the morning.

Sloan here.

It's me, Mr. Sloan.

How is she?

Uh, that coroner guy just left.

Listen, I gotta key that'll
open the Taj Mahal.

- Should I move?
- No.

I want you to bring her
back here to the plant.

In one piece?

You've got your
instructions, Rummy.

She's mine.

I don't want any harm to
come to her till she gets here.

Yes, sir.

You know, this, maybe, is none
of my business, Sloan, but, uh,

I don't see what you
have to gain by killing her.

She's already done her damage.

The old man's
serving ten to fifteen,

and whether she's alive or dead
isn't gonna get him out any sooner.

Her testimony killed him.

She murdered him just as sure as if
she put a bullet right through his heart.

He won't last ten months
in jail, let alone ten years.

I mean, she's
gotta pay for that!

Allison?

Allison!

Allison!

Look, we got an APB
out as soon as you called.

That was four hours ago.

Quincy, all I can say
is we're goin' flat out.

Now, are you sure
you won't sit down?

I thought she'd be safe.

Oh, Quincy. Look, if a gunman
would've gotten to her in the cabin,

he would dispatched
her on the spot.

I never should've left her
alone, not for one minute.

Will you stop blaming yourself?

For all we know she
could've blanked again,

not knowin' where
she was, and panicked.

If that's true, what
chance does she have,

roaming around the streets with no
memory, a five-figure bounty on her head?

You're always bragging about what
hotshots you have in the department.

Why can't they do something?

Will you take it easy?

I said stop blaming yourself.
I didn't say start blaming us.

If only I knew who she
was. It might lead us to her.

I might even tell us
who's tryin' to kill her.

Well, unfortunately, we're no closer to her
identity than we are to her whereabouts.

Excuse me.

Homicide. Lieutenant Monahan.

Yeah, wait just a minute. Sam.

Yeah, Sam.

Quince, I think you
should get back here.

The infrared did the trick. We
can see what's on that note.

I'll be right there.
See you later.

What do you make of it, Quince?

"Suit forty-five nine three."

That's as far as I got. I thought
maybe a docket number from a trial.

Well, that's not
a plus sign, Sam.

Look, the crossed
parallel lines.

It's the number symbol.

Then the space, right after "suit".
The "e" might've been obliterated.

Suite number
four-five-nine-three?

I wonder.

How many buildings in this
area have over forty-five storeys?

Not many. A handful, I'd say.

Mostly downtown. Why?

Suite numbers commonly
start with the floor number, right?

So how many suite forty-five
ninety-three can there be?

That's Mary.

- You recognize her?
- I should. She's one of my patients.

Mary... Mary... Mary Latham.

- Are you sure?
- No question about it.

I've been seeing her
for the last six weeks.

Well, when's the
last time you saw her?

She missed her last appointment.

She never called.

I'd say about two weeks ago.

- Do you have her address?
- I'll have my
receptionist give it to you.

Is Mary all right?

Doctor, may I ask what
you were treating her for?

Well, I was just doing
some follow-up work.

There were some complications from
some surgery she had done back east.

I notice your specialty is
head and neck surgery.

Yeah, I do that now. I must say,

I'm a little disappointed that
my reputation didn't preceed me.

Some of my patients say I'm the best
cosmetic surgeon in all of Los Angeles.

Cosmetic surgery, of course.

Let tell you what
was done to her.

Her ears were anchored
back, her eyes were enlarged,

and her nose was narrowed.

How did you know that?

It's a long way from being
obvious. Mary must've told you.

Her name is not Mary.
Her name is Allison,

Allison Sirella.

Ears like pitcher handles.

Well, she didn't
find her way home.

Landlady says she hasn't
seen her for more than a week.

What've you got so far?

Nothing that points
to her whereabouts.

But give us a chance, will ya?

So far, from what I've seen, I'd
say that Mary Latham was single.

She loved horses,
sailing, archeology,

didn't like clothes.

Speaks Italian.

Anyway, you know, she's
not exactly a composite

of your typical
hired killer's target.

- You find anything?
- No.

Nothing that will connect
her with her family or friends.

No phone numbers. Nothing.

You know, I get a feeling she was a
loner long before her memory fizzled.

Did you find out
where she worked?

Well, she's been unemployed
for a couple of months.

Prior to that, she worked six
years for Cheswick Industries.

It's an aerospace
outfit out in the valley.

Six years?

Well then, there must be
somebody there who knows

Allison well enough
to help us find her.

What's this with Allison?

Her name is Mary Latham.

Now, what's the matter? Are
you afraid to make any progress?

I'll check up on Mary Latham.
How do you explain this?

Turn it over.

A.S.

But I was told that Mary Latham
worked in this department.

I never denied that she did.
I just don't remember her.

- And how long
have you been here?
- Eight years.

And for six of those
years you were in

this department while she was here,
and you don't even remember her?

There's no need to shout.

I'm sorry.

What about the others?
You promised to ask them.

I did, and no one seems to remember
much of anything about the woman.

I find that very,
very hard to swallow.

No one talked to her
in the lunch room?

No one worked alongside her and struck
up a conversation? No one remembers her?

Apparently not.

This is a rather large company.

Sometimes people do their job so
well they almost get lost in the woodwork.

We are not talking about
termites, or phantoms.

We're talking about a very
real and remarkable woman.

I can't believe that she didn't leave a
lasting impression on somebody here.

Doctor Quincy,

I've done my best to
cater to your request.

Now, I made an honest effort to
find someone who knew that girl.

I couldn't. It's
just that simple.

Danny, Kenny, have
you seen Quincy?

Yeah. Try cheerin'
him up. I couldn't.

Good evening, Quincy.

Mind if I talk to
you for a minute?

I don't feel much like talking.

Not even about Mary Latham?

Who's your friend?

Quincy, this is Hugh Beaudry,

Federal Marshal,
Justice Department.

What about Mary Latham?

I want you to stop
looking for her.

I'm not looking for Mary Latham.

I'm looking for Allison Sirella.

And since when did this
become a federal case?

It always has been.

Tell him.

There never was a Mary Latham.

I gave Allison Sirella that name when I
gave her the trappings of a new identity.

A social security card,
medical, work histories...

- Why?
- Two years ago she
was an accountant

in a grain shipping
firm in the Texas Gulf.

You could say she
was a little eager.

She came across duplicate books

and uncovered a money
laundering operation

that would've
bankrolled a moonshot.

Allison blew the whistle.

More like a foghorn.

Her testimony helped convict
a major underworld figure.

That's when she became
part of the program.

The Federal Witness
Protection Program.

Protection? You call what
you're giving her protection?

Ah, come on,
Quincy. In ten years

almost four thousand people
have been given new identities,

with only an insignificant
number being found out.

And I'm gonna see that she doesn't become
part of your insignificant percentage.

Lieutenant, now you
see, we gotta find her!

This is the first solid information
we've found out about her.

It might help her to remember.

Quincy.

I'm sorry. It's too late.

What do you mean?

Quincy, they got
to her before we did.

We found her a couple of
hours ago in Robles Canyon.

Quincy, let your search
die with her, please.

Notoriety follows
you like a spotlight.

Sooner or later you'll call the
glare of public attention to this case.

Would that he so bad?

Maybe it would flush the
killers out into the open.

How about the witnesses
who haven't even testified yet?

Those who haven't
even come forth?

What affect you think
this will have on them?

Don't you see the headlines?
Witness ferreted out by killers?

Hundreds of
cases will be gutted.

Not to mention some very
dangerous people set free.

You want me to pretend
that Allison never existed?

That her presence here on earth
was not more important than an

ant that you crush and
don't even look down at?

No! But think of the repercussions.
Let her die as Mary Latham.

No! She was Allison
Sirella, and she did exist.

She left a mark here! I
won't deny her existence.

The body of Mary
Latham, female, Caucasian,

height, one hundred and
sixty-three centimeters, weight...

Appears to be
average musculature,

and, uh... Wait a
minute. Uh-huh.

Evidence of recent
cosmetic surgery.

Numerous abrasions
around the head and torso,

indicating a possible struggle.

- Sam, help me turn
her over, will you?
- Mmm-hmm.

An L-shaped zone of
reddening at the lower back.

Appears to be a
first degree burn.

What do you suppose
could have made that?

I don't know. We'll excise the tissue
and look at it under the microscope.

What's all this brown
discoloration in her lungs?

Looks like a hemolysis.

Take a strong alkali or acid to
break the blood down like that.

Sam, do you smell that?

Yeah, ammonia. Smells uremic.

No, that ammonia smell's
too strong for uremia.

But whatever caused the smell
might've made the blood break down

and the brown staining.

We've got a large volume
of air from the embolus.

A bubble of air that'll stop a heart
faster than a sledgehammer will.

Sam, look at the heart.

The chamber where
the bubble was lodged,

the same brown
discoloration as the lungs.

You know, unless
our noses are lying,

that air should contain
traces of ammonia.

Maybe it'll tell us something about
the mode of death, where she was killed.

I'll get on the analysis.

And that burn tissue on the lower
back. You know, the reddened area.

Those cells were vacuolated. So it
wasn' t a hot burn, it was a cold burn.

That skin was frozen.

The embolism contains a very
high concentration of ammonia.

That's why she smelled uremic.

And ammonia is used as a refrigerant,
the way you find gas in freezer coils.

Follow me for a
minute. See if this tracks.

In order to take in the level of ammonia
that she was breathing when she died,

it had to be concentrated,
like... like in a walk-in freezer,

one that had exposed,
old-fashioned coils.

Yeah, but why would ammonia be
present at that level, even in a freezer?

Well, ordinarily it wouldn't, but you
guys said there was signs of a struggle.

- Right.
- Okay. Now,
suppose Allison was thrown

against these coils, where she got
the cold burn, and broke one of them.

Then the ammonia coolant
would've escaped into the air

and she would've breathed it in.

That makes perfect sense.

And how many freezers
like that are still around?

Not too many. And the bloodstains
on her clothes, one of them didn't type.

I did an Agar diffusion and it
turned out to be beef blood.

I'd say were at a meat
packing plant freezer

that had one of its coils
busted in the last thirty-six hours.

Now, you know, you have to
repair those things right away.

I'm gonna call Monahan,
tell him to start looking.

You know, this is three cops I
got calling freezer repair places?

How do you expect me
to search all these places?

Look, Quincy, just
because I'm a soft touch

doesn't mean the judge is gonna issue
warrants just for the asking, you know.

Another commercial
freezer that fits the bill.

Well, what have we got here?

Maybe you won't have such a
hard time with the judge after all.

- Why?
- Quincy, this same
packing plant's owned

by a racketeer by
the name of Sloan.

Shall we hit that first?

First and probably last. You
know who this Sloan guy is?

- No.
- He's the nephew of the man

Allison Sirella put behind bars.

Oh, what are we
waiting for? Let's go!

The coil broke day
before yesterday.

A hind quarter tore off a hook
and tore off some of the tubing.

Right here.

It never got to a full melt.

We, uh, repaired it temporarily
so the meat wouldn't spoil.

I didn't know fixin' your own
freezer was a crime, Lieutenant.

No, Mr. Sloan. But the last
time I looked, murder still is.

Well, the only thing we
slaughter around here is beef.

Maybe so.

That's why I brought
the good doctor with me.

What are you doin', Doc?

I'm looking for human blood.

Well, you see anything,
Quincy? It's cold in here.

No, all I see
here is beef blood.

Even if they cleaned
it up, the faintest

residue of human blood would
react to the antigen and turn blue.

What did I tell you, Lieutenant?

Well, unless somebody is part Eskimo, I
suggest we move someplace warmer, huh?

Quincy, are you dead sure?

Chemicals don't lie.
Allison didn't die here.

Well, I'm sorry to
have bothered you.

It's no great
trouble, Lieutenant.

I understand the pressures
that law enforcement work under.

Oh, excuse me. I left
my bag in the freezer.

The Lieutenant's
waitin' in the car for you.

Oh, would you hold this for a
minute? I got something on my shoe

and I can't get it off.

Well, if it doesn't come off, have
them shined and send us the bill.

Okay.

You'll pay, all right.

Listen hard, because I
don't have much time.

Call Eddie. Tell him to get a camera
ready for time sequence close-ups.

Okay. Well, what's goin' on? What was
all that sprayin' to look for human blood?

That was just a fake. You can't tell
human blood from beef blood with a spray.

I wanted him to
think they were clean.

But hurry up, will ya? I gotta
stop this ice from melting.

Hold it, buddy. Hold it! Whoa!

- Yeah, what?
- Hold it!

Well, I tell ya', I got Tutti-Frutti,
I got Blue Toes, I got...

I need your dry ice.

Dry ice? That's a
coincidence, I need it, too.

What do you expect my customers to
do, drink their ice cream through a straw?

- This is urgent.
- Hey!

What're you doin' back there?

How much you want to drive
me to the Coroner's Office?

- The Coroner's Office?
- Yeah.

- What'd you put in there?
- Just a piece of ice.

But if it melts a killer will get away
with murder. So what do ya say?

But this is my peak time. If I go downtown
and back it'll cost me thirty dollars.

Thirty dollars. You got it.

Yeah, but how about wear
and tear on the truck, gas, tires...

- Fifty dollars,
if you move now!
- Fifty dollars, huh?

Okay. Hold on tight,

and don't expect any sirens.

We got a clear palm print.

Take another picture.

It's incredible. It's
melting and it's working.

- What's working?
- Just take another picture.

I'd like to know what I'm
takin' pictures of, Quince.

Just keep taking pictures. Every
thirty seconds, take a picture.

Every thirty seconds.

Okay. You're the boss.

Well, I thought we
passed inspection, Doctor.

Or is this a social call?

No, it's not a social call.

Why are you here?

I have some photographs I thought
you might be interested in seeing.

Well, why don't you
think of this as a preview,

before they go on permanent
display in Superior Court.

What kind of photos?

Exhibit A. A photograph of a piece of
ice found on a copper pipe in your freezer.

Looks like a dirty blob
on a hunk of ice to me.

How about Exhibit B? The same
ice after we immersed it in cold water

a fraction above freezing,

You're seeing a palm print with
blood, beneath the surface of the ice.

That's ridiculous. How could
a palm print be inside the ice?

I'll show you.

You knocked her
down. She hit this pipe.

She broke it at this joint.
You later had it repaired.

When the ammonia coolant leaked out
it made this section of the pipe colder,

but the rest of the coils began to
defrost. They weren't getting any coolant.

After you killed her, when you
were about to move the body,

you leaned against this pipe,

and you left your palm print
and her blood frozen in the ice.

Now, when this began to melt,

the water fell on top of your
frozen print, and it froze, too.

Layer, on top of
layer on top of layer.

Now, all we had to do
was reverse the procedure.

And here's what we came up
with. Your palm print and her blood.

I don't believe this.

It's a signature written in blood,
and it's your signature, Mr. Sloan.

It matches the print you left
on the spray can I handed you.

So what if my prints are in
here? I mean, I own this place.

I certainly can come and
go in my own freezer, can't I?

And that blood, that's blood
I picked up off a side of beef.

Oh, no. That's not true.

A moment after I took the last picture
I centrifuged what was left of the ice,

including that print.

Then I took the blood
and I analyzed it.

It was human blood.
It was Allison's blood.

There was also a
fiber present in the ice.

And that fiber matched the
other ones in the coat I gave her,

the one she was wearing
when you killed her.

Look, she was nothin' but a government
stoolie. I mean, she got what she deserved.

Quincy!

Quincy, cut it out, now!

Go on home. Your job's
done. Let us do ours.

The man's crazy.

You're back again.

Yeah, I was in the neighborhood.

Whatcha got there, a picture?

Yep. You might recognize her.

She has ears like
pitcher handles.

Oh, yeah. That's
the little Sirella girl.

Allison.

But this picture can't be
the lady you was with...

At least, I don't think so.

I'm not so sure anymore.

Was that Allison Sirella?

No.

Her name was Mary Latham.