Original subtitles

Previously on Blue Bloods...

Philip Sanfino, that's your guy.

Lieutenant, so we're clear, um,

I'm not committing to a career undercover.

You're giving off some sort of cop scent.

What the hell is that supposed to me?

Well, my uncle Phil wants to talk

to you himself, and you're coming in.

Phil, let's just talk to him inside, okay?

If I want your opinion, I'll ask you for it.

Now get inside and wait.

Get him out of the car. All right, all right,

I got some things to say, but...

James Riordan, you're wanted for questioning in the murder

of one Johnny Tesla.

You want to come with us.

You have the right to remain silent.

If you refuse to answer questions....

Oh, come on, let's go.

You're seeing a doctor.

End of story.

(groans)

I just need a roll of Tums.

Listen, that's the third time

you've had the stomachache this week, okay?

And don't say it was something you ate,

'cause I know what you ate; you had ginger ale

and pretzels for dinner.

What, are you a doctor now?

No, I'm not a doctor,

but you have a high-stress job,

you live alone, you have no family that you see regularly,

no pets, no sports, no hobbies.

I think you're a cover girl for Ulcers Illustrated.

That's lovely, thank you.

The swimsuit issue is what I meant. Oh, right.

Definitely the swimsuit issue.

I'll get you some help.

You ought to see if there's a suicide counselor there

while we're waiting, too.

Miss,

we've been a couple hours here; is there anything you can do

to try to,

you know, push things along?

Thank you.

Ramirez? Lydia Ramirez?

How's it going, sport?

Uh, it's just, uh... (clears throat)

settled a friendly bet the hard way.

Mm-hmm.

I'm a detective; anything I can help you with?

Oh, no harm, no foul. Mm-hmm.

I'd sure like to see the other guy.

Well, he looks better than me.

What's your name?

Uh, Phil Gibson. Uh, bloody hand.

Well, despite what the sign says out front,

if you came here 'cause of an emergency,

you're in the wrong place.

Uh, no biggie; I just want to get my nose looked at.

Well, good luck with that.

We'll just be sitting

right over here, okay?

Thank you. My partner takes two sweeteners.

You got? Sure.

How much do I owe you?

Oh, no, on me, please.

No, no, no, I can't do that.

I'm new on this block.

Better you tell your fellow officers

that this is the best coffee in town, yes?

If it is, I will, but I'm still paying for it.

This is for you.

Whoa. (chuckles)

Thank you, Officer.

Officer Reagan?

Detective Jones.

Please follow us back to your command.

Why? What's this all about?

We have orders to pull you in forthwith.

How come they didn't just 10-2 me then?

Because clearly, they didn't want the order going out over the radio.

Right now please.

Curatola, Jacqueline.

All right, here we go.

You'll feel better in a few minutes.

Right. They're just gonna give me Tums.

You want I should come hold your hand?

You should.

(muttering) Hey!

WOMAN: Help! Help!

Help!

Hey, you all right, man? (choking)

Hey, we need a doctor!

Get back.

Are you with him? No, no.

Did he tell you anything?

He said something about having a fight, but he was fine.

Sir, can you hear me?

Thank you, Detective.

This can't be good.

O.C.C.B. is picking up chatter that Philip Sanfino's crew

has orders to put a hit on you.

Me or Jimmy Riordan?

Jimmy Riordan.

Apparently, after we staged your arrest,

they sent a lawyer down.

And there was no client for them to represent.

No, we just missed it.

We just never anticipated they'd send someone to represent you.

Do they know I'm a cop?

We don't think so.

But it's probably worse if it's someone cooperating with a cop.

So, what do we do?

You sit this one out until we're certain

there's no longer a price on your head.

♪ Blue Bloods 2x21 ♪ Collateral Damage Original Air Date on May 4, 2012

== sync, corrected by elderman ==

♪ ♪

CRAIG: He died from unrelieved swelling

of the brain caused by a severe concussion

and the resulting frontal lobe hematoma.

Right, when I spoke to him right before he died,

he gave me the impression he was in some kind of fight.

The abrasions and contusions would point to that,

except for one thing.

The hands. Exactly.

Looks more like he got a manicure

than had a beef.

So, what is this, I'm grounded? We got everybody

up on the O.C. wires trying to find out more details,

but for right now, yes, you are confined to this house.

For how long?

As long as it takes.

Do I have a curfew?

Can I stay up and watch Jon Stewart?

You think this is funny?

No, I think it's ridiculous; you wouldn't do this

to any other cop caught in the same situation.

I damn sure would.

I just wouldn't have them move in with me.

There's got to be something I can do besides just sit here.

Well, my dining room chair's a little wobbly.

I have some Gorilla Glue in the garage.

I'll see you tonight.

You'd think it was him they put a hit out on.

Take your worst fear,

multiply it by 100,

you're not even in the ballpark.

You're not even in the parking lot next to the ballpark.

Thanks. Big help.

Look, you have to understand the way your father thinks.

He's got such a deep sense of responsibility

that when something goes wrong, he takes it personally.

And his job is to put 30-odd thousand people

in harm's way every day.

Try juggling that.

Okay, well, sometimes around here,

it's like Danny's made of armor, and I'm made of toothpicks.

Come on,

he's an equal opportunity worrywart.

How am I supposed to walk around with that on my shoulders?

That's for you to figure out.

He's not gonna change.

You clear, I'll clean.

MAN: He was our colleague,

he was our friend, but most of all,

he was our brother in arms,

and, um,

suddenly he's gone.

And, uh,

it sucks.

But the way to get through this is to honor Phil

in all we do,

in all we achieve.

In the memory of one of our own who is now behind the sun.

Come on, let's hear it for Phil

Excuse me, you ladies did tell them

that I was a detective with the NYPD, right?

They're almost finished.

Okay.

You know Phil?

Yes, of course.

Did you know if anyone had a beef with him?

A beef?

Like some street-y thing?

Like a problem?

Can't think of anyone who'd want to hurt him.

Mm-hmm. You?

Not here anyway.

Hi, Detective, I'm sorry to keep you waiting.

I'm Josh Thorp; this is Terry Longacre.

Um, should we take it to our office?

Sure.

No calls.

He ever show up to work like that before?

All beat up?

Only from a hangover.

Wait, wait, wait, what was his line again?

Oh, uh, "I don't call it a hangover anymore.

It's just the morning."

So, he had a drinking problem?

Not that ever got in the way of his productivity.

I don't know what you mean by that.

Look, Detective,

if you took all the functioning alcoholics

out of the financial industry,

you'd be left with, like, two bond analysts and a ATM.

So, sure he drank.

How about gambling? Any gambling problems?

We're all gamblers.

I mean, serious gambling problems,

like he was into his bookie?

I mean, there is a version of this story

where he caught a real beat down.

Not that I ever heard of.

I mean, Philip played division three hockey and lacrosse.

I mean, he knew his way around a fight.

He have friends in the company?

People he hung out with after work?

Uh, Larry, Brad, Jason.

Kenny, Rand.

I mean, guys he went to school with.

I'll have Sara give you their contacts on your way out.

Great.

Just out of curiosity,

what do you think happened to him?

Well, same as you do, Detective,

uh, he got into some sort of fight

and, uh, suffered an injury the proved to be fatal.

I mean, it's a real tragedy

for all of us.

Mm-hmm. And you?

Yeah, ditto.

And we're gonna do everything we can

to get to the bottom of it as well.

What does that mean?

It means that we're gonna have

our security team look into it.

Your security team?

Yeah. Oh.

With all due respect,

I'm not gonna trust my financial assets

to the New York City Comptroller.

I'm not gonna trust a human asset to city services, either.

I'm not city services.

I'm a first grade detective

with the New York City Police Department.

And I will not hesitate for one second to lock up

anybody who interferes with my investigation.

You understand?

Forgive my partner, Detective.

Um, just in shock around here this morning.

Very well.

They'll give me that list?

Yeah.

I can, uh, give them all a heads up, if you like?

No, I wouldn't want you to spoil the element of surprise.

They are his friends.

Yeah, well, you know,

even friends have stuff to hide sometimes.

Um, did any of these guys not show up for work today?

Simple question.

Rand Hilbert.

(elevator dings) But he was scheduled to fly for a meeting in Boston

on the first shuttle.

Okay, good to know.

Thanks for your help.

All right, thanks.

What do you got? Rand Hilbert was booked

on a 6:00 a.m. shuttle to Boston

but was refused boarding because of his quote,

"inebriated and agitated state."

Then he's home? No.

The night doorman says he got in a town car

at 4:30 to the airport; the day doorman says

he never returned home.

And the doormen have your number?

Yeah, and they get 50 bucks to use it.

Show these guys a 20, they look at it like it's a nickel.

Right, now even the doormen are players.

All right, then what the hell is this?

What?

I got an e-mail

from Philip.Gibson @CortlandtStreetCapital.com.

A dead guy sent you an e-mail?

Apparently, he did.

596 West 2-8, 9:00 p.m.

Bring a $100 bill with the word "damaged"

written on it-- that's your ticket.

Got a couple $100 bills on you?

Uh, no, but there's a bank

across the street that's open till 5:00.

Great.

Let's make a withdrawal.

Thanks.

ARBOGAST: I can't say as this

is good news or bad,

but we picked up further intel on the hit.

It's now hits-- plural.

Phil Sanfino got orders to take out his nephew, Noble.

What for?

What for? For bringing you in,

or rather, bringing Jimmy Riordan in.

Have they carried it out?

Not that we know of.

So we can still reach out to him, right?

To who?

Noble.

That's a pretty fragile ecosystem.

Uh, you know, we got a lot at stake.

We can't compromise the whole operation

for one wiseguy.

So, what... what, Noble's just roadkill in this?

Jamie, we're not talking about innocent bystanders here.

We're talking about the NYPD handing down a death penalty.

Collateral damage.

On the side of the patrol car

that I drive,

it says "courtesy, professionalism and respect,"

not "judge, jury and executioner."

That's out of line.

We cannot risk

letting Noble Sanfino know.

We're 36 hours out from taking down the case.

I can't see how tipping any of them

that we've got eyes and ears isn't asking for trouble.

Unless you want to order it.

I won't do that.

And why can't we move it up to tomorrow?

What are we waiting for, Vic?

Cavazzere's grandkid's christening.

We're expecting a few of them to come out of hiding to attend.

Let's just agree this isn't everyone's finest hour.

(low chatter)

Girl, look, I got one, too.

See? He's already seen my I.D.

Reagan.

Danny Reagan. Gary Heller.

Looking good. Stepping out?

Actually, I'm on the job.

Do you mind?

This is my partner, Detective Curatola.

Oh... New York's finest.

Would you knock it off?

What are you doing here anyway?

Working the, uh, roofie concession here?

You know, Heller worked, uh,

narcotics in the 2-1 for years.

Mmm. Jamaicans were running

millions of dollars through the streets.

But they never lost an ounce on your watch, did they, Gary?

That's right. Yeah.

See you around, Regan.

Yeah, not if I see you first.

Flopped cop?

He flipped on some Jamaicans in exchange for immunity.

Guy never met an angle he didn't like.

(sighs) You know what?

I'm seeing a lot of these bracelets.

I'm not seeing any bills.

You think we got duped?

I don't know.

Yes?

Not sure how this works.

Damaged?

All right.

Go ahead.

Thank you.

Excuse us.

Thank you.

(hard rock music blaring)

(cheering)

Boxing gloves.

That explains the clean hands he had.

It's like cockfighting for rich guys.

I'm going to go look around.

I'll be back.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

There it is, man. Get in there.

Watch the left!

Who do you got?

Nexmont. You?

Nexmont.

How big?

Oh, big.

How about you?

50K big.

Hit him!

(cheering and applause)

You guys here last night?

Yeah. You?

Did you see the fight with the Cortlandt Street guy?

Yeah. He ended up in the hospital.

Not surprised. He was getting really clocked out there.

Uh-huh.

Who was the guy he fought?

It was another Cortlandt Street guy.

They're the only firm that will pit

two of their own against each other.

Guy gave up like 20 pounds and six inches of reach,

but it was like he had a hammer.

Yeah, what was his name, that guy?

Cortlandt Street, they're all Ivy guys.

I don't know anybody down there.

Ooh.

They got no bell here?

Bells are for cats.

Is this your first time?

(cell phone ringing)

Yeah, just checking it out.

Where you work?

One second.

Reagan.

You did?

Yeah, okay.

I'm on my way.

Um, I work here,

with the NYPD.

Your cards?

Good luck.

Excuse me.

Rand Hilbert came back home, Jack.

We should head over.

Yeah.

It's time for his post-fight interview.

Wow. Cortlandt Street company cars.

Looks like they started the party without us.

Yeah.

Hey. When did he get back?

Minute before I called you.

Yeah? And how about his visitors?

Uh, ten minutes after that.

Apartment?

11-B.

We go up unannounced.

You got it?

(men's voices in distance)

You hear that? Mm-hmm.

(man yelling)

(knocking)

Police. Open up.

Let's go.

Coming in!

Mr. Hilbert?

That's my father's name.

Would you put the bottle down, please, sir?

I said put the bottle down now.

Cutting myself off. Hey, easy, easy.

Sit down and don't move.

My partner and I just come from Damaged.

Who wants to go first?

Okay, then.

The first rule of fight club is:

you will talk about fight club now.

Detective, I'm Jack Quayle. I know who you are.

Who's lawyered up?

I'm on retainer with the firm.

Oh, lucky for them.

Were you at the fight last night?

(laughs) Of course not.

Then get at the back of the line.

None of us were there. Rand was there.

Weren't you, Rand?

You don't have to answer that.

You really want to waste my time

making me go round up witnesses, huh?

Go ahead. Go ahead.

Were you there or not, Rand?

Yeah. Yep.

And you were in the ring with Mr. Gibson, weren't you?

Yeah.

Yeah, and you hit Mr. Gibson, who later died.

Is that not true? QUAYLE: Detective, you talked

to Mr. Gibson before he passed away.

And you know that how?

LONGACRE: As I told you,

we're trying to get to the bottom of this ourselves.

The point is, did he say anything to you

about being forced into the ring?

The point is, we're asking the questions.

Whatever you say.

I had words with him.

Wasn't an interview.

But you identified yourself as NYPD,

so, surely, if there was some foul play,

he would have said something.

Not necessarily.

Is there a bathroom here I can use?

Yeah, right through there.

Were you close, you and Phil?

(sighs)

We were brothers, man.

They went to prep school and college together.

They were best friends.

And as you can see, Rand here is crushed.

No, as I can see, Rand here is a train wreck,

and you guys are all up here

trying to get your stories straight.

(stifled retching)

Whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa, no.

That's the ladies' room right now.

Use the sink.

Counselor, I need to interview him as soon as possible,

so why don't you get him straightened out, all right?

I will have Mr. Hilbert ready at 8:00 a.m.

for an interview with you and the ADA of your choice.

Oh, you'll do that? Mm-hmm.

And you two,

you knew about this when we met this morning,

and instead, you choose to yank my chain instead?

That's not true.

We're piecing this together just as you are.

We apologize if you got the wrong impression, Detective.

Your money doesn't make me stupid, all right?

And Mr. Quayle doesn't make me shrink, either.

Yeah, and that fact, if it is one,

doesn't make you right. Shut up, Terry.

Take it easy.

Let's go, partner.

We'll see you bright and early, Mr. Hilbert.

Try some tomato juice.

You find anything in the bathroom?

Yeah, there were meds for him

like a Marine coming back from a third tour.

It's a bottle of alprazolam prescribed to a girl.

Recent prescription.

Okay, what's alprazolam?

It's a generic for Zanny.

All right, and the girl-- what's her name?

Sara Allen, Chelsea address.

Sara Allen is the name

of one of the assistants at Cortlandt Street Capital.

That bottle full when you cracked it?

Sir, yes, sir.

Stop at the halfway mark.

Wasn't doing a damn thing anyway.

(sighs)

It isn't missionary work we do.

Yep.

You want me to go? Just say so.

What would you do in my shoes?

Drink the neck and shoulders off a bottle for starters.

Then?

You can't just go out and find him.

His family has a hit out on a guy who looks just like you,

and they're not gonna stop and ask for I.D.

I know that.

And you can't tell him you're a cop.

That would scratch a pending bust

that's taken up thousands of man hours

and should and must go down.

So what do I do?

I don't want to screw this up,

but I can't just stand by knowing what I know.

Neither would you.

Don't tell the Commissioner I said this...

that you want to make a move,

you keep those boundaries in sight at all times.

Not a lot of room there.

A smart cop can find room between a rock and a hard place.

Good night, son.

Good night.

Noble. You know what to do.

It's Jimmy. You need to call me

as soon as you get this.

Sara the receptionist.

Did you give Rand Hilbert your Zannies

or did you just leave 'em at his apartment?

Neither.

Really? You know, I could screw your weekend up

pretty easy if I wanted to, Sara.

I dated Philip a little.

And Rand must have lifted 'em.

Those two practically lived at each other's apartments.

You and Philip Gibson, you were close?

Not very.

You can't be, with a guy like that.

Why not?

They're little boys. Oh.

They're a lot of fun, but you can't trust them

with anything breakable.

But I, uh, I cared about him.

You did care about him.

Is that why you sent me the e-mail?

I, I don't know what you're talking about.

Sure, you do. You wanted to clear up how he was killed

so he could rest in peace.

Or so maybe you could have a little peace, hmm?

Were Rand and Philip forced to fight?

You mean, like, with a gun to their heads?

No. It's a lot more subtle than that.

What do you mean?

It's like at college when they were pledging fraternities.

They didn't have to endure all that humiliation,

but they weren't getting in the frat if they didn't.

But no, no one was forced.

What about Longacre and Thorp?

They bet on the fight?

I can't say for sure,

but Longacre and Thorp will literally bet six figures on

which bird flies off the wire next.

Work with me here, Sara.

Look, I get paid 50 K for my skills and another 50

to look good and keep my mouth shut.

I've already said too much.

It was an accident,

tragic and sad, but an accident.

And I have a wake to go to.

All right, go on.

I do hear you, Detective, but right now all I'm hearing is

that Mr. Hilbert and Mr. Gibson stepped

into that ring voluntarily

to more or less audition for the next Jackass movie.

It was stupid and tragic,

but there is no evidence that Mr. Hilbert committed a crime.

Right.

What? So I'm free? Is that...?

My office is not charging you with anything at this moment.

Thank you, Ms. Reagan.

No need for gratitude, Mr. Quayle,

but I would appreciate it if your client was available

to the detectives should they need any further assistance

with the investigation.

I'll be at home.

I won't move unless you ask me to.

Your friend

Gibby...

you know, he had a reach advantage

and about a good 20 pounds on you.

I sure would love to see the gloves you had on.

They're in my gym bag in the closet by the door.

Oh. So you're giving me permission

to send my partner to retrieve it?

No, wait, wait... Absolutely.

Absolutely!

Do whatever you want with them.

I got nothing to hide.

Great.

Sound like consent to me.

SANFINO: Leave a message after the beep.

Yeah, Jimmy, it's Noble.

I'm sorry I'm late. I'm almost there, all right?

(phone buzzing)

Yeah, man, where is this diner?

I'm at the corner of...

JAMIE: What are you talking about?

You left me a message to meet you at the diner.

No, no, no, no, no, no.

Turn around and get back in your car, Noble.

Get out of there! What, What's going on!?

I left you a message to call me, that's all.

I don't get it.

To tell you that there's a hit out on you, too!

(tires squeal)

Noble?

(gasps)

(tires squeal)

Noble? Noble?

Noble? Noble?!

ERIN: Enterprise Corruption,

it's under the Organized Crime Control Act. Yeah.

If you can find hard evidence

that the partners had money on the fight and hid it, (phone rings)

or a paper trail that they organized the event...

Yeah, Jack?

Yeah, I got the gloves.

They're right where he said they'd be.

And?

And then nothing.

I'll get them right to the lab. They're just regular

12-ounce standard gloves.

All right, look, hand-deliver those gloves

to the lab regardless, all right? Yeah.

And what would you have done?

What, What would I have done?

I would have stayed the...

I would have stayed out of it...

the same way you should have.

Like it or not, gangster justice is very efficient.

It saves taxpayer dollars.

Seriously? This guy guy gets assassinated,

and that's all you've got?

He got what he deserved.

Where'd we adopt him from, anyway?

Let's keep it civil.

This is civil.

Boys, help me clear?

But I'm not finished.

She means we're excused. Oh.

Thank you, Nicky.

Jamie, Danny's not saying that gangster justice is right.

If one person's a write-off, then everybody is.

Your heart's bleeding

all over my good tablecloth.

Thanks.

Well, you're absolutely right. The day we sit at this table

and make a pecking order

over who's expendable and who's not is

the day we lost our way.

Yeah, but Danny's does have a good point.

Well, that never happens.

(chuckles, phone rings)

Jamie, it's not as if Sanfino was

an honor student that got hit by a stray bullet.

Excuse me.

I mean, some things are just proscribed.

What do you owe Danny for? Yeah, Jack?

What are you talking about?

Danny has his own personal scale of justice.

He has every right to choose

who or what he's gonna lose sleep over at night.

I'm on my way.

What's up?

Rand Hilbert's in the hospital.

For what?

Apparently, he inhaled his medicine cabinet.

You know that "enterprise corruption" you told me about?

Yeah. Well, if that's all I can bring,

can you at least see how much damage I could do with it?

Yep. I got to go. Excuse me.

I'll talk to you later. Gramps, Dad.

Excuse me, too.

A hundred years ago at this family's Sunday dinner,

at least one brother or uncle at the table

would have been a priest.

(chuckles)

You're talking about Jamie.

Is he still alive?

He took a bullet and survived.

Will he meet you?

It's not possible under the circumstances.

You want to give him a chance to save himself?

Everybody deserves that.

Call him and tell him to meet you.

Where?

I can think of one safe place.

DANNY: What is it, Mr. Hilbert? What happened?

I... (sighs)

I went down and asked to see the gloves,

and they showed 'em to me.

The boxing gloves?

Yeah.

I started to think...

it seemed like every punch I landed had more on it

than it felt like.

Gibby was, like,

rocked a few minutes into it.

And I'm-I'm no great boxer.

The gloves we tested,

the ones my partner took from your apartment,

were they yours?

No.

No, they were, they were the same,

but they were different.

Well, what does that mean?

Mine, I-I I lifted from my school's athletic department,

and they had a little "property of" tag

on the inside if the cuff.

But not the one you guys had.

Are you sure about this?

Yeah.

Listen, listen, do you have any idea

who would want to switch the gloves?

It's all right. Take, take it easy.

Take it easy, all right? Just...

All right.

(panting, groaning)

Just tell me what the hell is going on.

DANNY: Listen, it's all right.

Nurse.

Well, who besides building staff

would have access to Mr. Hilbert's apartment?

To Mr. Hilbert's?

No telling.

What do you mean?

Mr. Gibson, Mr. Hilbert--

their apartments are owned by the company they work for.

Uh, Cortlandt something.

Cortlandt Street Capital.

Yeah. Uh-huh.

The whole "B" line, from floors eight to 12, they own.

They put the new hires there, six months free rent.

We don't know who else has keys.

Your security cameras,

they record to a hard drive over here or something?

State of the art.

We're going to need a copy of that.

♪ ♪

I'm a police officer with the NYPD.

What's your name?

Just call me Jimmy.

Officer Jimmy.

About a half an hour ago,

John Cavazzere was placed under arrest,

along with four of his lieutenants

and 13 other known associates.

This concerns me how?

Your uncle, Philip Sanfino,

was also placed under arrest, along with Escalade Bobby

and six other of his associates.

Among the charges against him

is conspiracy to commit murder-- of you.

Well, it never happened, so...

(sniffs)

It's all on the wire.

Made you a mix tape.

Funny guy.

If you agree to testify and cooperate,

you'll be put back in contact with your sister,

who's already agreed

and been relocated with a new identity.

She never would.

She already has.

FRANK: He never would have lasted as a priest.

Why do you say that?

He's got the conscience, but not the humility.

Or you can walk away right now

and spend the rest of your life

looking over your shoulder.

You know they'll find you.

What's it going to be?

DANNY (sighs): Seriously, how much

more of this do we got to plow through?

13 hours. Oh.

13 hours.

(sighs)

Ooh, zoom in on that guy.

It's Gary Heller.

JACKIE: Looks like he's looking

right at you.

Yeah, you know, Longacre and Thorp said they had

their own security investigating this thing.

Dollars to donuts Gary Heller's

got a private investigator's license.

Come on.

♪ I'm-a need to see ♪

♪ The whole crowd yellin' ♪ ♪ Hey ♪

♪ I'm-a need to see the whole crowd yellin' ♪

♪ Hey ♪ ♪ And if you're feelin' it ♪

♪ Feelin' it, put your hands up ♪

♪ If you're feelin' it, feelin' it ♪

♪ Put your hands up... ♪ Excuse me, miss.

Would you, uh, give Mr. Heller and I a moment, please?

Grab a booth, honey.

Order a couple of the osso buco.

I wish it were anyone but you, Reagan.

Yeah, well...

I think you have something I need.

Figured I might.

Hence making sure I got my picture taken.

Right.

Where are the gloves?

My office, two blocks away.

You check them out?

Nope. Bagged them in plastic

just as I found them, made the switch.

No questions asked?

Only from myself to myself.

And what did yourself think?

Someone had heavy money on that fight,

wanted some insurance.

Oh, so you suspected something.

Then why not just bring the gloves in?

Because I'm a private eye now.

My loyalties are to my clients, not the NYPD.

Oh, right.

But you did say that you made sure

to get your picture taken

just in case we wanted to look into something.

I never said that.

It'd be bad for business.

Right.

Dundee.

Two more Cutty and water for the booth with the lady.

Those two are on me.

Hey.

I'll get the gloves, be back in five.

You know, there's...

there's one thing that I don't get.

What's that?

What is in this for you?

I get to sleep at night.

Oh.

And that's all, huh?

JAMIE: It's a lot,

your conscience means anything to you.

(laughs) There's an assistant United States attorney

ready to talk to you.

All I get's an assistant, huh?

Right.

Oh, okay, so this conscience of yours,

it-it lets you...

gain people's trust-- perfect strangers--

and then you screw them over?

That's not what went down here.

No?

No, you're not perfect strangers.

You're criminals, and I'm a cop.

Okay, let's go.

You're a weasel with a badge. Now, Sanfino.

You're alive because of me.

And you're welcome.

DANNY: Hey.

JACKIE: Hey.

What did the lab say? Well, apparently,

some kind of saltwater solution was injected into the gloves.

Made the padding hard and made the leather like sandpaper.

For what? I have no idea.

Maybe so this guy could get an edge on his bet on the fight.

I don't know. How much can one guy eat?

I mean, what's he going to win in the bet

that he can't already afford to buy?

I don't know.

The whole thing makes me sick, seriously.

Let's go arrest this mutt. Maybe you'll feel better.

Wonderful.

Hello, ladies.

Excuse us.

(laughter)

Hey, gentlemen.

Good afternoon.

Calling you back.

You've got no right to just barge

in here like this. Actually, we do.

Josh Thorp, you're under arrest

for murder in the second degree. Get up.

Get up!

Come on. Hands behind your back.

Josh, what's going on?

Well, Josh doctored Hilbert's gloves. Yeah.

Oh, and then he sent a private investigator

over to Hilbert's apartment

to switch out the gloves the day after Gibson died.

What?

Yeah, and now Gibson's dead

just so Thorp could win a bet with you.

Josh?

You have the right to remain silent,

although it seems like you got that memo.

You know, for two smart guys, you really are stupid.

I mean, you know the price of everything,

but you know the value of nothing.

Get him out of here.

Come on.

I don't have anything on you yet,

but you are my new favorite hobby.

See you around.

Dad.

Oh. I'm off.

Well, it was good to have you here,

even under the circumstances.

Good to be here.

Thanks for having my back.

Any time and every time.

Seems that I see the best in people

even when nobody else can.

Just the way I'm built.

That's got to be an asset in some line of work,

but I think it may be a handicap... for a cop.

Just something to think about.

Good night, Dad.

Night.

== sync, corrected by elderman ==