All language subtitles for Blue Bloods S02E21 Collateral Damage.DVD.NonHI.en.CBS

Previously on Blue Bloods:

Philip Sanfino, that's your guy.

Lieutenant, so we're clear, I'm not

committing to a career undercover.

You're giving off some

sort of a cop scent.

What the hell is that

supposed to mean?

My uncle Phil wants to talk to you.

You're coming in.

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

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

Now get inside and wait.

- Get him out of the car.

- Let's go.

All right. I got some things

to say, but not like this.

James Riordan,

you're wanted for questioning

in the murder of Johnny Tesla.

You wanna come with us.

You have the right to remain silent.

If you refuse to answer questions...

Ugh. Come on. Let's go.

You're seeing the doctor.

End of story.

I just need a roll of Tums.

Listen, that's the third time you've had

a stomachache this week.

Don't say it was something you ate.

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.

Like you're a cover girl

for Ulcers Illustrated.

That's lovely. Thank you.

- The swimsuit issue, I meant.

Oh, right.

Definitely the swimsuit issue.

I'll get you some help.

Why don't you see if there's a suicide

counselor there while we're waiting?

Miss, we've been

a couple hours here.

Is there anything you can do to try

to push things along? Thank you.

Ramirez. Lydia Ramirez.

How's it going, sport?

I just, uh, ahem,

settled a friendly bet the hard way.

Mm-hm. I'm a detective.

Anything I can help you with?

- Oh, no harm, no foul.

Uh-huh.

Sure like to see the other guy.

Well, he looks better than me.

What's your name?

Phil Gibson.

- It's bloody there.

Well, despite what the sign

says out front,

if you came here because of an

emergency, you're in the wrong place.

No biggie.

I just wanna get my nose looked at.

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 I owe you?

No, no, no. On me, please.

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

I'm new on this block.

Better you tell your fellow officers

this is the best coffee in town.

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

This is for you.

Whoa.

- Ha, ha.

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.

- Was that hard?

Hey! Oh, my gosh, help!

Help! Help!

Hey. You all right, buddy?

Whoa. Hey! We need a doctor.

Please, back.

- Are you with him?

- No.

He tell you anything?

He said something about

having a fight, but he was fine.

Sir, can you hear me?

No chest rise.

Is anybody in here with him?

Thank you, detective.

This can't be good.

OCCB is picking up chatter

that Philip Sanfino's crew

has orders to put a hit on you.

On 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.

He died from unrelieved

swelling of the brain

caused by a severe concussion and

the resulting frontal-lobe hematoma.

Right. And I spoke to him

right before he died,

and 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 OC 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

in the same situation.

I damn sure would.

I just wouldn't have him

move in with me.

There's gotta be something I could do

besides just sit here.

Well, my dining room chair's

a little wobbly.

There's 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 a hundred.

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.

- So 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.

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 N.Y.P.D., right?

- They're almost finished.

- Okay.

You knew Phil?

Yes, of course.

Do you know if anyone

had a beef with him?

A beef? Like some streety thing?

Like a problem.

Can't think of anyone

who'd wanna hurt him.

- Mm-hm. You?

- Not here, anyway.

Detective, sorry to keep you waiting.

I'm Josh Thorp.

This is Terry Longacre.

- 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.

Uh, what was his line again?

Oh. "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 the functioning

alcoholics out

of the financial industry, you'd be left

with two bond analysts and an 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 the story

where he caught a real beat-down.

Well, not that I ever heard of.

I mean, Phil played Division Ill hockey

and lacrosse.

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.

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.

He got into some sort of fight

and suffered an injury

that proved to be fatal.

Uh... It's a real tragedy, for all of us.

- Mm-hm. 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?

Uh, forgive my partner, detective.

We're just in shock

around here this morning.

Fair enough.

- You'll get me that list.

Yeah.

I can 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.

Did any of these guys

not show up for work today?

Simple question.

Rand Hilbert.

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 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. They have 50 bucks to use it.

I show these guys a 20,

- they look at it like it's a nickel.

- All right.

Now even the doormen are players.

- All right, now what the hell is this?

- What?

I got an e-mail from Philip.Gibson

@CortlandtStreetCapital.com.

- The dead guy sent you an e-mail?

- Apparently, he did.

"596 West 28.

9 p.m. Bring a hundred-dollar bill

with the word 'damaged'

written on it. That's your ticket."

Got a couple

hundred-dollar bills on you?

No, but there's a bank

across the street. It's open until 5.

Great. Let's make a withdrawal.

Thanks.

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.

You know, we got a lot at stake.

We can't compromise

the whole operation for one wise guy.

So, what?

What, Noble is just roadkill in this?

Jamie, we're not talking

about innocent bystanders here.

We're talking about the N.Y.P.D.

handing out 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 wanna 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.

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 roofie concession here?

- Ha, ha.

You know, Heller worked Narcotics

in the 21 for years.

Hmm.

Jamaicans were running millions

of dollars through the streets,

but they never lost an ounce

on your watch.

That's right.

- Well, see you around, Reagan.

Yeah, not if I see you first.

Flopped cop?

Flipped on some Jamaicans

in exchange for immunity.

The guy never met an angle

he didn't like.

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.

Boxing gloves.

That explains the clean hands he had.

It's like cockfighting for rich guys.

I'm gonna go look around.

I'll be back.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

Excuse me.

- Excuse me.

- Come on.

- There it is, man.

- There you go, big boy.

- Watch the left!

- Who do you got?

Nexmont. You?

- Nexmont.

- How big?

Oh, big.

How about you?

Fifty-K big.

Hit him!

- You guys here last night?

- Yeah. You?

You see the fight

with the Cortlandt Street guy?

Yeah, he ended up in the hospital.

Not surprised.

He was getting clocked out there.

Uh-huh.

- Who was the guy he fought?

- It was another Cortlandt Street guy.

They're the only firm that'll pit

two of their own against each other.

The guy gave up like 20 pounds

and six inches of reach,

but it was like he had a hammer.

What was his name, that guy?

Cortlandt Street, they're all Ivy guys.

I don't know anybody down there.

Yeah!

Yeah!

Ooh.

- They have no bell here?

- Bells are for cats.

Is this your first time?

Yeah, just checking it out.

- Where do you work?

- One second.

Reagan.

He did.

Yeah. Okay.

I'm on my way.

Uh, I work here, for the N.Y.P.D.

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 car.

Looks like

they started the party without us.

Yeah.

Hey, when did he get back?

- Minute before I called you.

- How about his visitors?

Ten minutes after that.

- Apartment?

- Eleven-B.

We go up unannounced.

You got it?

Calm down.

You hear that?

- Mm-hm.

Police, open up!

I knew that. I'm fine.

You don't have to worry about me.

Let's go. Coming in!

--situation right now.

Mr. Hilbert.

- That's my father's name.

Why don't you put

the bottle down, please, sir?

I said put the bottle down now.

- Hey.

- Cut myself off.

Sit down and don't move.

My partner and I just came

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.

- Lucky for them.

- Were you at the fight last night?

- Heh. 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 wanna waste my time,

making me go round up witnesses?

Huh?

Go ahead. Go ahead.

Were you there or not, Rand?

Yeah. Yup.

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?

Detective, you talked to Mr. Gibson

before he passed away.

And you know that how?

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.

It wasn't an interview.

But you identified yourself

as N.Y.P.D.

So surely if there was

some foul play,

- he would've said something.

- Not necessarily.

- Is there a bathroom here I can use?

- Yeah. Right through there.

Were you close, you and Phil?

We were brothers, man.

They went to prep school

and college together.

They were best friends.

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 story straight.

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?

I'll have Mr. Hilbert ready at 8 a.m.

for an interview with you

and the ADA of your choice.

- You do that.

- Mm-hm.

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.

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.

- 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 Xani.

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.

It wasn't doing a damn thing anyway.

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 ID.

I know that.

And you can't tell them 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 wanna 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.

But you wanna make a move,

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.

It's 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 Xanis,

or did you just leave them

at his apartment?

- Neither.

Really?

I could screw your weekend up

pretty easy if I wanted to, Sara.

I dated Philip a little.

Okay? Rand must've lifted them.

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.

They're a lot of fun,

but you can't trust them

with anything breakable.

- But I, uh, cared about him.

- You did care about him.

Is that why you sent me the e-mail?

- 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 50K 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 if your client

was available to detectives

should they need further assistance

- with the investigation.

I'll be at home.

I won't move unless you ask me to.

Your friend, uh, Gibby, you know,

he had a reach advantage

and about a good 20 pounds on you.

Sure would love to see

the gloves you had on.

They're in my gym bag

in the closet by the door.

Oh. So are you giving me permission

to send my partner to retrieve it?

- No, wait, wait, wait.

- Absolutely. Absolutely.

Do whatever you want with them.

- I got nothing to hide.

- Great.

Sounds like consent to me.

Leave a message after the beep.

Yeah, Jimmy.

It's Noble. I'm sorry I'm late.

I'm almost there, all right?

Yeah, man, where is this diner?

I'm at the corner.

What are you talking about?

You left me a message

to meet you at the diner.

No, no, no. Turn around

and get back in your car, Noble.

- Get out of there.

- Okay, 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.

Noble?

Noble?

Noble?

Noble?

Noble!

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,

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? And 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.

- Then what would you have done?

- What? What would I have done?

I would've stayed the--

I would've stayed out of it,

the same way you should've.

Like it or not,

gangster justice is very efficient.

It saves tax-payer dollars.

Seriously? This guy gets assassinated,

that's all you've got?

- He got what he deserved.

- Where did we adopt him from?

- 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 is 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 does

have a good point.

- Well, that never happens.

- Ha, ha.

Jamie, it's not as if Sanfino

was an honor student

that got hit by a stray bullet.

- Excuse me.

- Some fates are just prescribed.

- What do you owe Danny for?

- 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 is in the hospital.

- For what?

- Apparently he inhaled

his medicine cabinet.

You know that enterprise corruption

you told me about?

Yeah.

If that's all I can bring,

can you see how much damage

I can do with it?

- Yep.

I gotta go. Excuse me.

I'll talk to you later, honey.

Gramps, Dad.

Excuse me too.

A hundred years ago

at this family Sunday dinner,

at least one brother or uncle

at the table would've been a priest.

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 wanna 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.

What is it, Mr. Hilbert?

What happened?

I...

I went down and asked

to see the gloves.

- And they showed them to me.

- 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.

I...

The gloves we tested, the ones

my partner took from your apartment,

are 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 of the cuff.

But the-- 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 it easy.

Take it easy, all right? Just...

All right.

Just tell me what the hell's going on.

Listen, it's all right.

Nurse.

Who besides building staff

would have access

to Mr. Hilbert's apartment?

To Mr. Hilbert?

- 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 8 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 record to

a hard drive over here or something?

State-of-the-art.

- We're gonna need a copy of that.

I'm a police officer with the N.Y.P.D.

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 them is

conspiracy to commit murder, of you.

Well, it never happened, so...

It's all on the wire.

I 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.

He never would've 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 gonna be?

Seriously, how much more of this

do we gotta plow through?

- Thirteen hours?

- Oh.

Thirteen hours.

Oh. Zoom in on that guy.

It's Gary Heller.

Looks like he's looking right at you.

You know, Longacre and Thorp

said they had their own security

investigating this thing.

Dollars to doughnuts,

Gary Heller's got a private

investigator's license. Come on.

Mm.

Excuse me, miss.

Would you 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?

- No. 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 N.Y.P.D.

Ah, 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 would be bad for business.

Dundee, two more Cutty and water

- for the booth with the lady.

- Those two 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?

It's a lot if your conscience

means anything to you.

There's an assistant United States

attorney ready to talk to you.

All I get is an assistant, huh? Right.

Oh, okay,

so this conscience of yours,

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.

You're alive because of me.

And you're welcome.

Hey.

What did the lab say?

Apparently, some kind of salt-water

solution was injected into the gloves,

made the padding harder,

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?

What's he gonna 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 arrest this mutt.

You'll feel better.

Wonderful.

Hello, ladies. Excuse us.

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. Then he sent the private

investigator to Hilbert's apartment

to switch out the gloves

the day after Gibson died.

- What?

Yeah.

And now Gibson is dead just so Thorp

could win a bet with you. Hmm.

- 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.

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.

Anytime and every time.

Seems that I see the best in people,

even when nobody else can.

- It's just the way I'm built.

- Hmm.

It's gotta be an asset

in some line of work.

But I think it may be a handicap

for a cop.

Something to think about.

Good night, Dad.

Good night.