Original subtitles

I just talked to Harry.

He's going to be out sick for a few more days.

Well, obviously he didn't try the chicken soup I dropped off. His flu

would be gone by now.

Oh, no, his flu is gone.

Now he's got food poisoning.

A glorious Monday to you all.

Another wild weekend with Mother Teresa.

That is Mary Teresa Mack.

And this.

is all that's left of our in-room jacuzzi at Barney's Bed and Bubble.

You know, you've been seeing this girl for a few weeks now.

This is the longest one-night stand you've ever had.

Back on crack.

Mary Teresa is a sweet, kind-hearted soul who takes pleasure in my interests

and pleasure in my company.

Barring. Besides, she carries an air mattress in her purse.

Hi, girls.

Been out shopping? Nope.

Mosaic class.

Well, Ross, that sounds like something you'd never do in a million years.

Ross and I are swapping hobbies so we can become more fully realized human

beings.

Tomorrow I'm introducing her to an art form that expands the mind and drenches

the soul in spiritual ecstasy.

Ah, crossbow class.

Bullseye.

Come on, Rog. Let's see your mosaic.

Yeah, let's see it, Rog. Come on.

Hey, you asked for it.

Wow. What a beautiful seascape.

The waves lapping against the shore.

Tiny sea otters at play as the sun sets on the lone lighthouse.

How peaceful.

You hold it upside down.

It's a six-car pileup on the Long Island Expressway.

Six-inch stilettos.

Ah, Mary Teresa.

So that's Mary Teresa.

Wow, what a knockout.

So, you work in the stinking dumps?

Yes, and what a little charmer.

You left this in my car.

I figured you'd want to...

Recharge it for our date tomorrow.

Well, sure, I wouldn't want to run out of juice in the middle of dusting.

Ciao, baby.

Wow.

Nice girl.

Dan, Dan, do you know her last name?

No. But I know she likes to sit in butter.

Well, if you'd been keeping up with the news, you'd know who she is. That's

Loverboy's daughter.

What Loverboy? I mean, the only Loverboy I know is the mob boss, Joey Loverboy

Schiavelli. Exactly.

Wait a minute. That couldn't be.

That would mean I have been taking incredibly foul liberties with the

daughter of the second biggest crime lord in the city.

Dan, a word to the wise. I'd break it off if I were you.

Good idea.

I'll break it off before he breaks it off.

Well, if it isn't our little hobby swapper back from the crossbow range.

How'd it go?

Oh, not well.

Oh, what happened?

Well, Ross kind of stepped down range to fix the target, and I kind of was

holding the crossbow.

to get hurt?

Kinda. The arrow got Rod in the derriere.

You shot her in the hat?

I wish.

Me too.

Then maybe I'd be able to sit down without swallowing my teeth.

You're not bad.

Accidents happen.

Who knows? Maybe tomorrow at the range it could be Lisette.

I think you misunderstood her.

Maybe so, but just in case, I'm going to go buy some arrow-proof panties.

Oh, hey, Matt. Yeah? Good news. I'm 86th Mary Teresa. Yeah? Well, if anybody can

dump a woman like a bag of trash, it's Dan Fielding.

Thank you, friend.

Boy, I shudder to think how close I came to getting mixed up with that gang of

leg-breaking thugs, you know?

Daniel Fielding.

Yeah, who wants to know?

Joseph Schiavelli.

And you are?

Out of here. Bye.

Where's Mr.

Schiavelli? I, uh, I, I, I, I... Fielding, I do not wish to waste your

time, so I'll get right to the point.

I understand you've been seeing my daughter.

Oh.

I don't know if I'd say seen.

Why, more like, you know, calling around. Hey, like buddies.

Ah, but she tells me that you wish to be buddies no longer.

She did.

Silly goose.

Can't you tell when I'm kidding?

You see, I've been through this with Mary Teresa's other suitors.

For some reason, they all seem to disappear.

Imagine that.

Now, finally, she meets a fine, upstanding man, a district attorney, no

less, and he, too, exits her life.

Can you imagine the guilt I am feeling?

Oh, your pain is my pain, sir.

Then help me get over this ache in my heart.

Come to dinner at my home Friday.

Make my little flower happy, huh?

Dinner!

I'd love to, but my sister's in town. I promised I'd have dinner with her. Look,

here she is now.

Mr. Schiavelli, meet my sister, Cookie.

Cookie?

Cookie?

Hey, what a coincidence.

That was the name of my dear late wife.

May she rest in peace.

Cookie? I was just telling Mr. Schiavelli about our plans Friday night,

how I couldn't possibly desert you on your very last night in town, even

though it would be peachy to have dinner at his house, right?

Cookie.

Say no more.

If anyone understands the importance of family, it is I.

You must both come.

Huh? No, please, I insist.

Baldo will contact you Friday.

Friday.

And Cookie.

I've spent far too many nights alone.

How could you do this to me? He's the number two crime boss in this city.

Yes, again, now he's number one with a bullet.

Well, I gotta do something.

Maybe we should call the FBI. They could help us. Oh, yeah, right after that, we

can call the morgue, ask them to reserve us a slab.

You did the right thing in contacting the Bureau.

I think we can help.

So then you've handled this kind of thing before?

Well, actually, um... Uh, no.

This is my first gig. I, uh, just graduated from the academy.

Agent DiLorenzo, do we really have to go to this dinner?

You? No. You? Yes.

You're on special assignment for the DA's office.

And I might add, your superiors were most anxious to see you go.

Giro's been trying to pin something on Schiavelli for a long time. You could be

the break we've been waiting for. Oh, come on. What break? He's just trying to

marry off his daughter and give himself a little cheap sex on the side.

Dad!

All right, all right. A lot of cheap sex.

That's not the way we see it.

You see, last month, Schiavelli lost his consigliere to a bathtub accident.

Ew. Did someone electrocute him?

No, he slipped on a bar of soap.

It happens.

We figure that Schiavelli is out to replace him, Counselor.

What? Me?

Why not? You're a seasoned attorney with a solid track record and a long history

of moral depravity.

Not to mention a complete lack of ethics.

Hey, you're funny.

Schiavelli likes that in his mistresses.

Mistresses? Okay, that's it. I am not going.

Relax. You won't be in any danger. You're not the one who has to wear the

wire.

Go wire.

Yeah. So we can listen in?

You know, evidence?

What, you think we were just going to ask for an essay on how I spent my mob

dinner?

Christine.

Okay, Dan.

Whatever happens, I'll be there with you.

And then I'm going to kill you.

Take a number, cookie.

Lizette, why didn't you show up at the range today?

Well, you know what they say, an eye for an eye, a cheek for a cheek.

Lizette, I told you I forgave you.

Besides, you shouldn't give up so easily. The best thing to do in these

cases is to get right back up on the horse.

It is?

Yes. See you at the range tomorrow morning.

Okay, Mr. Fielding, you're wired for sound.

Wow, you are a brave man, Dan.

I just read about a guy who was rubbed out by the mob after his wire started

smoking. Oh.

The Ludlow case. What a mess. What do you mean, mess?

What do you mean, yuck?

Relax, Mr. Fielding. The late Mr. Ludlow's wire did malfunction, but only

because he was a sweater.

Come to think of it, he was also a bleeder.

So are you saying if I sweat, I die?

Just try to stay calm. And if you do feel a trickle, think cool thoughts like

Iceland or ice cream.

Or ice pick.

Thank you for your kind thoughts, Mac. You're so helpful.

You're welcome.

Okay, Mr. Fielding, a few last-minute tips.

Avoid all physical contact so nobody will feel the wire. No, don't bend over.

That could jostle the microphone.

Sit close to Schiavelli to make sure that the mic picks up his voice. And

whatever you do, don't mention Brooklyn.

Brooklyn? Why not?

Trust me, you don't want to know.

Um, uh, what about me?

Your hair looks nice.

No, I mean, is there anything I should keep in mind?

You? Just go and have a good time.

Sweat all you want.

Ice capades.

Ice pack.

I certainly hope I'm alive tomorrow.

You have a lovely home, Mr. Schiavelli.

Please, Joseph.

Joseph.

I was just wondering why a man would have so many TVs and stereos.

I mean, you must have had at least 40 piled up in this spare bedroom alone.

Christine.

Christine? It was Cookie's nickname when we were kids.

Oh.

What are you doing? I want to help you get him on tape. Don't help.

So, what do you think of my home, counselor?

I told you to use cloth napkins.

Paper's fine for these people.

This is my soon-to-be-sainted mother, Angela Schiavelli.

Mama, this is Daniel Fielding, Mr. District Attorney.

And this here is his sister, Cookie.

Another cookie, huh? And this one's a showgirl, too.

Showgirl? What makes you think I'm a showgirl?

Two guesses.

Does somebody in this room owe me an apology?

Can you ever forgive me my delicate little snowflake? Oh, Danny boy,

come here and give me a hug.

Oh, you're shy in front of my daddy.

Oh, that is so cute.

Who are you?

Oh, Mary Teresa, please say hi to my sister, Cookie.

Oh, your sister, huh?

Oh, gosh, she's cute, Danny.

When's she leaving town?

Not too soon, I hope.

Let's eat.

Come, Cookie, you sit next to me, huh?

Oh, no, you know, I better sit next to you. She is such a messy eater.

I am not.

Just call me Little Miss Pigpen.

Isn't Baldo going to sit down?

Baldo never sits.

Never.

Baldo stands.

Stands.

So, Mr. Chiavelli, I'm really looking forward to a night's home-cooked meal.

Then you better go home. We're having Chinese.

Except for me.

I'm on a diet, doctor's orders.

I've even taken up the life cycle.

It increases my stamina.

That's nice.

Oh, yeah, right, the life cycle.

He had Baldo ride it for him.

That's right. Hey, Baldo, how many miles I do today?

Only tree, boss.

How come?

I pulled my calf muscle.

He has

scoliolytis.

What is that?

That's when two scolios get kind of... I'll get it.

You know, Mr. Schiavelli, I must say that you and my sister make a lovely

couple.

Oh,

there's blood on that fork.

That washes right off.

Trust me.

That was delicious.

Sure beats the hell out of those midnight buffets in Atlantic City.

Eh, Cookie?

Cookie Valley, I think you have the wrong idea. I'm not a showgirl.

So then, Cookie, what is it that you do?

Well, actually, I'm a... Lingerie model.

Marry this one, Sonny.

She's a career girl.

We could make it a double ceremony.

Well, maybe so, but a couple.

Now, if you'll excuse us, we have some man talk to do.

We do?

In that case, Cookie, come on. Let's go make some girl talk.

You know the little twerp down at the beauty parlor who I'd like to bust his

stinking face?

Mr. Schiavelli, please, let me first say that it's been a pleasure. How much?

How much what?

How much money do you want?

I don't know.

Fifty?

Fifty dollars would be nice.

Shoot.

I meant fifty thousand.

Fifty thousand would be better.

What are we talking about?

We are talking about how much it will take to keep you away from my daughter.

Huh?

We've done some checking up on you. To put it mildly, you have the morals of a

rutting pig.

Pig.

Hold a second. I don't have to sit here and be insulted. 75,000. Maybe I can say

this for an espresso.

$75,000 just to stay away from your daughter?

So, what you're saying is strictly personal, just between you and me and

nobody else, and is completely legal.

Why are you talking to your tie?

Hey, boss, I smell smoke, but your cigar ain't lit.

It actually smells more like burning flesh.

And no one knows burning flesh like you, boss.

Kidney stones.

Where were we? $100,000?

If that's your price.

$100,000?

I don't know.

She's become real special to me.

Hop.

All right, 150.

50, 100.

Wire! Wire? What wire? Wire? What wire? My kidney's bothering me.

$200,000?

And not a penny more.

Stop! Before you do anything to Dan, I have to tell you something.

He's gay.

What?

I'm sorry, Dan. I just thought I should know the truth.

Oh, Danny!

Come here, buddy.

What are you doing here? I heard screaming. I thought they were trying to

pressure you into marrying her.

I'm not gay.

Yes, you are.

That explains why sex with you was so...

You had sex with my daughter?

No! No!

And it was not hollow.

And all this time, he was pretending I was a man.

So, Mr.

Hotshot, the year you try to shake down the boss for 200 grand, huh?

200 grand?

That's all I've done to you?

You have dishonored my daughter and my family.

God forbid Mama heard this over the dishwasher.

Couldn't we discuss this rationally? I can't be rational with a man like this.

Couldn't you just let him go, lover boy?

Do it for me, for your little cookie.

She speaks, and I am putty.

Mr. Scavelli, please, sir, I am sorry. Listen, I don't want your money, and I

don't want your daughter.

Because of Cookie's graciousness, I accept your apology.

Allow me to pay for your jacket.

No, no, that's fine. I'll just take it to my tailor, Tony.

Tony from Queens?

No, Tony from Brooklyn.

Brooklyn? Uh-oh.

Pal, you just said the secret word.

Why, you slimy little toad. You know what happened to me in Brooklyn?

Something unpleasant. My own brother put a hit on me in my favorite restaurant,

but I got him back. Him and them other traitors. You know what I did?

I put 30 bullets into Joe's scuff marks.

He won't be shining them shoes no more. I dropped any of the hook from his own

bell tower. Then I rang the stinking bell to tell the devil he was coming.

You know, they did the funky whistle on me.

I took a pair of garden shears to you. Oh, it fits!

There goes my ride.

Cookie.

Oh, Chloe, you want to see a show, maybe?

Maybe.

Well, you seem to be in one piece.

I guess Roz didn't buzz out you're behind after all.

She never got the chance.

You act like you shot her again.

Oh.

You didn't.

I did.

Same place?

No. Other side.

Uh-oh.

Anybody says a word and they're dead meat.