All language subtitles for Watch The Mysteries of Laura - Season 1 Episode 14 english s

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Damn it!

Let me guess, texting!

Urgent message from the White House?

Oh, are you kidding me, you're
drunk? It is 8:00 in the morning!

Hey, rise and shine, moron!

In addition to arresting the New York
connection for a major Mexican cartel,

we utilized the law of civil forfeiture
to confiscate all of his assets.

Suffice it to say, Mr.
Cortez will not be driving

his armor-plated Mercedes S65 any time soon.

Now, thank you all for your time,

but the 2nd Precinct has a
lot more bad guys to catch.

Any further questions, please direct them to

deputy commissioner for press
information, Lisa Hanlon.

My office will be issuing
a statement by 11:00 A.M.

And that's all I have.

Thank you all.

Guy never met a press
conference he didn't like.

The camera does love him.

Lisa?

- Laura! Hi.
- Oh!

- Oh, goodness, wow.
- Wow!

- Deputy commish?
- Yeah.

I gotta say, when we
were back in the Academy,

you were not the one I would have
voted most likely to end up at 1PP.

Tragically tamed by City Hall.

How much do you miss those book club nights?

I would probably miss them
more if I remembered them.

I do remember the one time, I think I was
temporarily engaged to a backstreet boy?

Yes, yes, and don't forget
my holding your hair

every time you prayed to
the porcelain goddess.

- Oh... yes, so true.
- Lightweight.

God, that was fun.

Why don't we have a book club reunion?

I'm still in touch with some of the crew.
I'm sure we could rally in a heartbeat.

I would love that, but it's not
like I'm rolling in free time

- with the ridiculous caseload here and the kids...
- Oh, book club! Book club!

- Book club, book club, book club!
- Book club, book club!

Okay, okay, I'll check my calendar.

That's what I'm talking about.

- Text me.
- I will.

Bye.

Book club? Somebody call the nerd police.

It wasn't really a book club. It was
more like a "let's get wasted" club.

We just called it "book club" so the
other cadets wouldn't wanna come.

- Um, somebody call the awesome police.
- They were like my posse.

Calendar-schmalendar. You need
to text your book club friend.

- Stat!
- Now?

She's still in the building. That's weird.

Okay...

Book club! Book club!

- I'm doing it.
- Okay, I'm sorry.

- Reynaldo!
- Detectives.

Your victim is Michael Moretti.

Late 20s, single gunshot to the
neck, most likely with a silencer.

Judging by the point of
entry, the shooter leaned in

from the passenger side window.

I found the shell casing on the seat.

I'm amazed you
found anything in here.

I thought Laura's car was bad.

Okay.

- The greatest thing.
- Ha, Lady Gaga and Cher. That's a classic.

Little early to be using "Lady Gaga"
and "classic" in the same sentence.

Oh, orange lipstick?

Hey, lotto ticket.

Another dude trying to get lucky.

Hmm...

Looks like he already did.

So, I hear you're getting
the book club back together.

How'd you hear that?

Oh, I keep my ear to the ground.

Yeah, don't forget your
uh, barf bag, Lightweight.

How did you hear that?

Ear to the ground, Diamond,
ear to the ground.

So, gunshot to the neck.

What's up with the red
mark on his treasure trail?

I would say that is some sort of heat rash.

He's got Band-Aids on his ankles.

Like I get when I wear heels,

which is why I don't.

The lab found a powdery
residue on the shell casing.

Calcium carbonate, usually found in...

- Makeup.
- I was gonna say makeup,

which your colleagues found in the car

along with a 40 DD brassiere.

Seems as though our deceased friend
recently had a successful date.

Or maybe not.

You know what else causes
a heat rash right there...

- Spanx?
- I was gonna say spanx.

Super-sized bra, Band-Aids
on the back of the ankles,

makeup, spanx rash, I don't
think that there was a date.

I bet our victim was a cross-dresser.

You know, that makes sense.

That bodega that sold him the lottery
ticket found at the crime scene?

It's right across the
street from Lady Mary's.

It's the hottest drag bar on the West Side.

Reynaldo, you are full of surprises.

Ear to the ground, Diamond.
Ear to the ground.

- You again?
- I'm a professional doorman.

What's your excuse?

We're here about Michael Moretti,
he was murdered this morning.

- Oh my God, it's Cher.
- Excuse me?

Not the real one. You're on the list.

He was a doll. We were partners.

Oh, I am so sorry.

Not like that! We were stage partners.

His Cher, my Gaga.

That explains the CD in the car.

What can you tell us about Mickey?

He lived by himself in Brooklyn.

Had a sister nearby somewhere.

I'll have Max track her down.

Okay, well, what about here?
Did he have a beef with anybody?

Actually, I did hear that he got into
it with another dragster last week.

He got too clingy, really set Mickey off.

- So, Mickey had a temper.
- And it could come on fast.

Does "clingy" have a name?

Excuse me? You wanna hold it
down here, honey. I'm working.

I'm working, too.

You the new singer? Let me guess,

Lucille Balls?

Ha! Best day of my life.

Sorry, I'm all woman. Careful.
You're gonna miss your chorus.

Oh, really, smart ass?
Well, why don't you take it?

Are you kidding me? Honey, I
could slay the boy and his sister.

Okay, okay! Timeout, timeout.

Thank you, sister. Thank you.

♪ Let's hear it for the boy ♪

- You know I could kill that.
- I know.

- You've seen me up there.
- Easy tiger. You were talking about Ms. Clingy?

Mickey never gave me a name. He
didn't want me getting mixed up in it.

He was like that, protective.

Is there anything he did tell you about it?

Only that, whoever it was,
was bald under her wig

and tried to cover it up wearing
a seriously misguided toupee.

Where's the dressing rooms?

Real hair.

Real hair.

Hold on.

Ow! What the hell?

I'm sorry. I just... I just always
have wanted little baby curls.

That's him.

That looks like real hair to me.

No, not him. Him.

Ugh. Oh!

I think I just saw that thing
on Animal Planet last night.

- Time to trap the wildebeest.
- Go for it.

Hey, NYPD. May I have a word with you?

Whoa, hey, hey!

Excuse me!

Hey, police! Stop!

Hey, come back here!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa!
- Watch it!

Hold up!

All right, everyone. Let's
give it up for Miss Cama Flage!

Yes! So... Oh!

Hey!

- Almost had him, man.
- Sure, you did.

That's for Mickey.

You and your rug are off the list.

Synced by emmasan
www.addic7ed.com

Andrew Jakubowski, AKA Sleeping Booty.

Talk to me about Mickey Moretti.

Mickey was so gorgeous.

I mean, what straight guy goes to
drag clubs and dresses like Cher?

Yes, we had a little tiff.

I called him a tease. He didn't like that.

- But I didn't kill him.
- Then why'd you run?

I thought maybe he got a restraining order.

I mean, he went off on me, saying
just because he's dressed like this

doesn't mean he's gay.

Then he throws me against a wall and says

I'm as bad as the backward
dumbasses in his old neighborhood.

- You touched a nerve.
- Yeah, a big one.

Look, I was at the
dermatologist yesterday morning

when you said Mickey was killed.

I'm getting full-facial electrolysis.

I've got his card, here.

Okay.

Sit tight while I check your alibi.

In the meantime, with
that 5:00 shadow you got,

book another appointment.

Ms. Moretti?

Drea.

I'm so sorry about your brother.

It's his St. Christopher's medallion.

I gave it to him for his first communion.

I know this is hard, but can you
tell me anything, anything at all,

about your brother that might
help us find his killer.

I hadn't seen him in months.

I don't even know how he supported himself.

Performing at that bar didn't pay much.

He just loved it.

He always did.

So, he'd been cross-dressing for some time?

Since he was a kid.

He always dated girls.

You know, this... this was just his thing.

It was pretty hard, how much he
got teased. Thank God for Eric.

- Who's Eric?
- Mickey's best friend, growing up.

He always looked out for
Mickey, kept the bullies off him.

Until Mickey hit a growth spurt,

learned how to defend himself, you know?

He clocked this one jerk
in the mouth so hard

he knocked half his teeth out.

After that, nobody messed with Mickey.

Whoever did this to him, we will find them.

Detective Soto, permission to speak freely?

Permission not really
necessary, but go ahead.

That thing you purloined from the drug bust

is a bastardization of the entire
neo-classical tradition and it's stupid.

Permission withdrawn. First of all,
I did not purloin the Heisman Cupid.

Tell me that's not what it's called.

Oh... its eyes are following me.

- They're not even open.
- It's even creepier.

Secondly, under the laws
of civil forfeiture,

any items obtained in a criminal arrest

can be utilized by the department
in any manner it sees fit,

in this case, classing up my desk.

Is it opposite day?

- Did you run that background check?
- Yeppers.

Our murder victim, Michael "Mickey"
Moretti, had a juvenile record.

He also had what I believe is known
as a "running buddy" in those days,

one Eric Lombard, who just
couldn't seem to give up the life.

Parole report has Eric working
at a pizza establishment

in il Bronxo.

What did toupee guy give you?

When he and Mickey had their run in,

Mickey said something about
guys from the old neighborhood.

I don't think they were
fans of his cross-dressing.

Maybe someone from his past
coming back to haunt him, hmm?

Max, you get the name of that pizza joint?

Si, signorina, Pizza Vongole.

Vongole means "clams" in Italian.

I'm doing Rosetta Stone!
You should hear my mandarin.

I'm still waiting on Sleeping Booty's alibi.

Why don't you go meet
Laura at the pizza joint?

- Okay.
- She never says no to a slice.

Oh, God, what's that smell?

It sure as hell isn't pizza.

Clams, it's New Haven-style pizza.

- I had it when I was at Yale.
- You went to Yale?

Visited my cousin Rohan
once, during spring break.

Oh, that must have been wild.

Don't name-drop a school you visited once.

- Officer?
- Detective Diamond.

My bad. I'm Sam Marks, I'm the owner.

Here.

On the house, secret recipe.

It's all about the quahog clams. I get
'em special from Rhode Island.

Shucked every one of these myself.

Let me tell you what goes on a pizza.

Sauce, cheese, sometimes
pepperoni, I'll allow anchovies.

You got a pizza place in New
York, make New York pizza.

I like clams and free pizza.

We're looking for Eric Lombard.

Yo, Eric.

You didn't screw up your parole, again?

- About Mickey?
- Mmm-hmm.

Yeah, I heard it from his sister.

Just can't believe it, you know?

Drea said that you were his best friend?

Yeah, from way back.

- What about yesterday morning?
- What's that supposed to mean?

Easy, Eric. The kid was right here with me.

I got his time code in the
back if you want to see it.

Please.

He came by last week, Mickey did.

- Are you his best friend, too?
- Not like Eric, they were tight.

But, uh, Mick and me, we got
pinched together a couple times.

Shoplifting, joyriding...

I'm relaying. Let me ask you something.

Oh, Vince, short for Vincent.

Thanks for clearing that up.

How did people around here feel
about Mickey's cross-dressing?

Some guys called him queer or whatever.

Me, I never had issues.

Guy wants to dress up as a chick,
makes him feel good about himself?

- God bless. You know what I'm sayin'?
- I do.

Anything out of the ordinary happen
the last time he came in here?

Well, fortunately, I
got a photogenic memory.

- Very fortunate.
- He had a couple slices,

- kept going in the back to take a whiz...
- Thanks for sharing.

Then he says he's gotta
leave. So, I offer him a lift.

At first he says no, but I
say, "bro, let me take you."

I don't take no for an answer.
It's one of my qualities.

- I'm sensing that.
- Yeah.

- Where'd you take him?
- All the way downtown,

a warehouse at 10th Avenue and 21st.

Billy, warehouse,
10th Avenue and 21st.

Sure as hell isn't a drag club.

Nope, it's a fight club.

Who's in charge here?

NYPD, you ever see this guy before?

Mickey? I see him every week.

Usually beating the crap out of someone.

- He's a fighter?
- Guy's nails.

Taps everybody out.

Tapped, past tense. Mickey
was murdered yesterday.

- Damn!
- When was the last time he was here?

- Two nights ago.
- Mickey make any enemies that night?

Some Wall Street a-hole.

They got into it pretty good in the ring.

Wall Street seemed to get him all riled up.

Then Mickey dropped him
like a sack of hammers.

After that, Wall Street was
basically spewing out death threats.

Where can we find this guy at?

Right over there.

Just took another ass-kicking.

Wake up, bud. Wake up. Come on, buddy.

Rise and shine, tough guy.

I'm all right.

You lost a fight to this guy,

then you threatened to
kill him. Now he's dead.

Whoa, that guy's dead?

As dead as your left jab.

And you're looking like the
prime suspect. You two had words?

Wait, I didn't kill anybody.

I was just trying to get under his
skin and the guy goes nuclear on me.

You...

I might have dropped an F-bomb.

- The F-bomb that means "gay."
- Yeah, I think I've seen that in the dictionary

right next to the I-bomb that means "idiot."

Where were you yesterday morning?

Where I am every morning, on
the floor at the stock exchange.

You can check with about 100
people I did trades with yesterday.

- You record all the fights?
- Okay, so, I don't "record," I film.

And cut! Let me guess, aspiring director?

I start at NYU in the fall.

Good for you, but we're
gonna need you to turn over

everything you filmed from two nights ago.

That's part of my senior thesis.

Harvey Weinstein spoke
at our school and he said,

"a true artist doesn't listen to
the voices of authority," so...

Speaking of the voices of authority,

does your mother know
you're down here, Tarantino?

'Cause I'm guessing you told her
you're at, what, the library?

- Study group.
- Hand it over.

Thumb drive okay?

Whoa!

Is that that new 4K HD TV from the bust?

Oh, yes, it is.

Hey, Laura, you need to
take a look at this picture.

Forget it, she's anti-boxing.

She never even came to one of my bouts.

Excuse me?

Don't let my rock and run fail fool you.

Back in the day, I was a golden
gloves, light middleweight champ.

I wasn't anti-boxing.

I was anti watching my boyfriend
get punched repeatedly in his face.

I don't know about "repeatedly."

Although, I didn't have fans like that.

It's like ring girls gone wild.

Wait, pause.

Check out that woman on the phone.

She looks more "bored business
woman" than girls gone wild.

Check out her lips,
recognize that lip color?

Orange is the new lipstick.

That's the color we found in Mickey's car.

You're welcome.

Run facial recognition.

Donna McKinney, illustrious manager.

Her clients engage in mixed martial
arts, which, according to my research,

is a competition of sorts to inflict
bodily harm on another human

in an enclosed cage space.

We all know what MMA is, Max.

- Of course we do.
- What do you have on Donna?

Her two ex-boyfriends, both of
whom are professional MMA fighters,

have restraining orders against her.

Lady likes to play rough.

And Mickey's phone records came back.

Guess who he texted two
hours before he was killed?

- Donna McKinney.
- You're good at this.

- And the text was?
- "Need to talk abut fix tomorrow."

Pretty sure the "abut" means "about."

So, a fixed fight is going down tonight.

Could be. There's a gimongus MMA bout in
Atlantic City that Donna has a client in.

And guess who was supposed
to be on the undercard?

- Mickey!
- Seriously, can you see through my tablet?

So, maybe Mickey found out the fix was in,

Donna decides to shut him up.

Only one way to find out.

Road trip.

There's no way you're going on a
road trip. It's Alicia's night off.

The only reason I said yes to book
club was because you're on kid duty,

which means, you're on kid duty.

Billy and Meredith can road trip.

Book club? Come on.

You haven't hit one of those since
we were back at the Academy.

Exactly, way overdue.

Which is why Lisa and I are
getting the band back together.

Tonight.

Woo-hoo.

How are we gonna get an Atlantic City
promoter to open up to a couple of cops?

The only thing that people in that
world respond to is flash and cash.

- True that.
- Which we have neither of.

No? I have two words for
you, civil forfeiture.

Flash and cash, baby.

I'll drive, baby.

Ladies...

Book club, rise again!

- You look fabulous.
- Yes!

- Oh!
- Light beer, please.

- Book club doesn't ride on light beer.
- Really?

- Okay. Wow.
- Yay!

- Cheers.
- Cheers.

Book club!

- Whew.
- Ooh.

- Wow.
- Okay, this is good.

- This is what we're doing tonight.
- I think so.

- All right.
- Whoo!

Oh, my God.

Cheers! Good to see you!

- Welcome to the Atlantic Pearl.
- My man.

And what brings you two to AC?

It's our honeymoon.

- Congratulations.
- Thanks, lucky me.

We're also here for the MMA fight.

Oh, I hope you have tickets, it is sold out.

I think I got my tickets right here.

- Hook it up.
- Thank you, sir.

- Whoa, where did that come from?
- Same place as the car.

Get receipts.

Be cool. You don't get receipts
when you're undercover.

- I am cool! It's fine...
- Would you just relax?

Relax, it's all good.

Okay.

It's our first argument.

- Your ticket, sir.
- My man.

- So, I first became a fan of fighting
- Yeah?

back when I was...

That's your, uh, parking claim ticket.

Oh, no, no, no, no. I gave you two bills.

I need tickets to the fight, VIP section,
down there next to Donna McKinney.

Not a problem, sir. That's
gonna cost you 20 bills.

- Enjoy.
- Thanks.

- You're not gonna get a receipt for that either?

Book club!

Yeah!

A bet's a bet, I finished first.

We never shook on it.

I will mess you up, Jess.

Do you remember when I
siphoned all the oil out of your car

when you flaked on beach day? Bam!

You never told me that was you.

I had to get my car towed 30 miles

to visit my mom in the hospital.

Oh, no. That's bad.

- I can't believe you.
- Oh! Oh... my bad, my bad.

- My bad, my bad.
- Oh, my God.

Double or nothing.

One round of that guy.

Oh. No.

Okay, okay, I see you still
question my that guy abilities.

Oh, well, the last time you were challenged
you ended up marrying that guy.

Well, I learned my lesson.

Okay, that guy, bring it.

Oh, okay, that guy.

Oh!

Bobby "smells like feet" Flannigan?

That's a layup.

That's a layup, come on.

Okay, all right, you're
right, you're right, okay.

Oh, my God.

That guy.

- Ooh.
- Oh, hi.

Long shot, long shot.

Remember, full-on make out.

You've got three minutes.

I'll be back in two.

Oh!

May I borrow your friend?

Fancy meeting you here.

Not really fancy, since
I told you I'd be here.

Can I buy you a flaming beverage?

No, but you can do something else for me.

Oh, my God!

- Now, remember, we're high rollers.
- Mmm-hmm.

Baby, I cannot believe
you bought me this ring.

How many karats is this?

I dunno, about 50.

Dude, the hope diamond is, like, only 45.

I don't know that stuff.

Anyway, don't ask guys girl questions.

Wait.

- Right there.
- Mmm-hmm.

Donna McKinney.

My mother told me never
to talk to strangers.

Billy Ramos, I'm from Miami.
I rep a few fighters down there.

- Is that right?
- We're on our honeymoon.

Oh, congrats. Miami, huh?

So, you must know Arturo
Serrano, the trainer?

Serrano...

Yeah, he runs a gym in Coral Gables?

There are no decent gyms in Coral Gables

and there is no trainer named Serrano.

Okay. What can I do for you?

We're interested in one of
your fighters, not to poach.

- To bet on.
- Which fighter?

Babe, you promised me no business tonight.

- I know, but...
- Come on! Let's just keep...

- Baby, baby, baby. Just... just look, look.
- What? What?

Fishy face, fishy face.

- Okay, just give me one second, all right, baby?
- Okay...

- I'll be back, okay?
- All right, well, hurry up.

- All right, I'll be back, okay? Okay.
- Okay, have fun.

He's fighting on the undercard,
Mickey the Monsoon.

I can't find anything on this guy

except the fact that he beat up
one of my friends not too long ago

- at a Manhattan club.
- And who was that?

Just this Wall Street guy, but
he said he had never been hit

as hard or as fast than he
was by your boy Mickey.

- Well, Mickey's off the undercard.
- What?

I came up all the way from Miami. Why?

He's dead.

Good enough reason?

My God, I'm sorry to hear that.
What happened?

Wouldn't know. I haven't heard
from him since that club fight.

Hmm...

If I was putting somebody in
the ring for the first time

I'd have stayed in close contact with them.

Sounds like I'm a little more
hands-off than you are, handsome.

I am not gonna be hands-off with you,

- if you keep talking to my man like that.
- Wow...

- It's okay, baby.
- We are husband and wife.

She's coming on to you
like you're not married.

Excuse me, I'll be right back.

Whoo!

- You got good at that.
- What can I say?

Oh, hello.

Oh, son of a bitch.

What's wrong?

This guy I've been seeing, you know, we
were supposed to go out on Friday night

and now he says he never got
my text and made other plans.

What a jerk.

Well, you know what, the
next time you're together,

just check his phone for received texts.

- You can do that?
- Hell, yeah! Liars, beware.

Huh!

Okay, you know what?

More drinking, less texting.
Come on, Lightweight.

Okay, just... just one minute.

I think you just helped
my murder investigation.

Oh!
Got a text from Laura.

- "Check vone"?
- She meant "phone." I speak Laura tipsy-text.

"If Donna got Mickey's text,
she's lying. That guyyyyyy."

Okay, I have no idea
what that end part means,

but Laura's right, we need
to check Donna's phone.

Roger that, be ready when
I give you the signal.

- What signal?
- You'll know.

I have to get back to my seat, but
if you want to talk about fighters,

or really anything, just give me a call.

Excuse me? Look, it is
bad enough that you bring

- your bride to this cheesy casino,
- Okay, baby, it's okay...

instead of Barbados.

And now you gotta keep
cozying up to this skank?

- Whoa, who are you calling "skank"?
- We were supposed

- to go to Barbados. You, skank.
- Baby, baby.

- What? No! Do not try with me.
- Oh! Hey, hey.

- You don't either, skank.
- Honey, trust me,

- you do not want to play with any of this.
- What do you mean...

- You have no idea what you're getting yourself...
- Oh, yes, I do...

I'm gonna keep these on, sweetheart,
'cause they gonna make an imprint.

- This is not a sandbox you wanna play in.
- Skank!

You know what? I think
it's time for you to leave.

That's exactly what I was gonna say to you.

You sure seem calm for someone
who's facing murder charges.

We know you were with him
the night before he died.

And your phone has verified that
the text you got from Mickey

was both received and read.

Mickey was my fighter.

That was his last fight club
bout before signing with me.

I was protecting my investment.

What about your lipstick in his car?

Was that part of your investment?

No, that's because we
were sleeping together.

You sleep with all your fighters?

Keeps them focused.

I thought fighters weren't supposed
to have sex before a fight.

Well, it keeps me focused.

- Ah...
- Mmm-hmm.

What about the text from Mickey?

I don't sign my fighters for
their communication skills.

If I did read it, I don't remember.

That's convenient. Let me remind you.

He said he needed to talk to
you about the fix tomorrow.

Which means today.

What, Mickey found out that you
were planning to fix the fight

and threatened to blow your plan?

So you had to shut him up?

Whoa, you guys have been
watching way too many old movies.

When he said "fix," I figured he meant
fix the situation he was dealing with.

What situation?

Oh, Mickey had some old
friend he grew up with,

said he was Mickey's manager.

He was here a couple hours
ago, desperate for money.

The lunatic actually waved a gun in my face.

- What friend?
- Guy named Eric?

- Eric Lombard?
- Um, maybe,

he really didn't make any sense.

He told me that I stole Mickey from him

and that if I didn't want
to end up like Mickey,

I better give him 30 grand.
I had my guys run him off.

- I think you just changed your mind.
- Call him.

- Set up a meeting.
- And why would I do that?

Because you may not have fixed this fight,

but you don't want us poking around

and figuring out the ones you did.

So, you guys aren't married?

Oh, no. Why?

Hmm, the way you were hanging
all over each other back there,

I bought it.

You might want to check into that.

Are you okay?

Be right out!

Oh... oh, my God, thank you.

You've held my hair back plenty of times.

- Oh, my God.
- Lightweight.

Okay, I got ya.

So, how much are you up?

A real gambler would not ask.

We're not real gamblers.

Oh! There's our boy.

Okay, I'm gonna hang back.
He'll make me from the pizza joint.

Roger that. Moving in.

Hey! What? No, come on.

Community property.

Got the money?

Relax.

Room for one more?

I mean it.

- You don't pay...
- Calm down.

Dude, time to fold.

You've already watched that.

Wow, you are obsessed
with this ridiculous TV.

I'm trying to analyze the fight.

The problem is, all these hot
women keep getting in the way.

That's a sentence I never
imagined I'd hear you utter.

What do you got on the case?

Ballistics on the gun we
got from Eric are a match.

- We think he's the murderer.
- I heard.

He wouldn't tell us what happened, but
he said he's willing to talk about a deal.

Da's on the way.

I know that look.

- What's wrong?
- Well, we assume the fix was about Atlantic City,

but maybe it was at fight club.

Here, watch this.

First thing you learn in the ring,
when you get an opponent in trouble,

you follow up.

- And he doesn't.
- And,

when Wall Street goes down,
watch Mickey's reaction.

That is not a guy happy to have won.

No.

Back it up to right before the punch.

Wall Street says something to him.

F-bomb, and not that one.
The other one, meaning...

Got it, that guy seems
like a real class act.

And then Mickey drops him.

Mickey was supposed
to throw the fight.

He got pissed and blew it.

Which means somebody bet
big against Mickey and lost.

But Eric? Guy doesn't even have
two nickels to rub together to bet.

- Lightweight.
- No, he's a middleweight.

No, no, no, my old nickname, which,
based on last night, I've outgrown.

You wanna tell me what it
is you're talking about?

Call off the DA. Tell them that
we don't know who it is yet,

but that we know that it's not Eric.

He's covering for someone.
I'm gonna find out who.

Unless I do first.

- Sorry about the sting.
- What? Now you're good cop?

More like tired cop. Went out
with some old friends last night.

Not real relevant to my situation.

I said I'm taking a deal.
What are we doing here?

I just wanted to talk
about Mickey a bit more.

You protected him, all growing up.

- That's what friends do.
- Which is why when you became the one in danger,

he tried to protect you.

Look, whatever he did, he did on his own.

You know, my friend, she used to be
able to drink me under the table.

Last night? You should have seen me.

It's tricky when old roles get reversed.

- What's your point?
- We know that Mickey

was supposed to throw the fight for you.

We need to know who he made the deal with.

Who are you so afraid of? You
know that we can protect you.

Maybe. But you can't protect
my mother, or my sister.

So, you're going to go to prison
for a crime you did not commit?

Look, Eric.

We can protect your family.
We just need your help.

I wish I could.

I dunno what to tell you. If people
wanna throw fights, that's their business.

Your business is profiting off people
beating the crap out of each other.

Well, thank you for the morality lesson.

But we both know that amateur
athletic exhibitions, like mine,

are perfectly legal in New York.

But betting on them isn't.

- Look man, I already told you that...
- I know what you told me.

And I have a tape of Mickey's last fight.

- So what?
- So, everyone's cheering, booing,

living and dying off of every punch.

Except you. In my experience,
that's the one taking the action.

The one who wins, no matter what.

- Interesting theory.
- Yeah?

It's hot in here. I bet it gets hotter
when the fights are going down.

Everyone's wearing t-shirts,
tank tops, except you.

You were wearing that exact same jacket
with all the pockets that you have on now.

- I run cold.
- The guy taking the action has gotta be

like a human filing system. Lots of
pockets to place individual betting slips.

I'm guessing that if I
searched you, I'd find a few.

- But you're not.
- Yet.

You tell me who bet against Mickey
the night before he was killed,

and I'm out of here faster
than a standing eight count.

You just solved my case.

Hey, hey, keep this between us.

Word gets out this came from me,

I'm a dead man.

- I figured out who killed Mickey.
- Wait!

I figured out who killed Mickey.

That is so you. I say "I
know who the killer is,"

- so you...
- I'll prove it. I'll say it first.

I wanna say it first.

- Same time, on three.
- Fine.

- One...
- Sam Marks, pizza guy!

- I was gonna say the pizza guy.
- Uh-huh.

I checked the gun.

It came back to an unsolved
armed robbery in, wait for it...

- You're telling me to wait for it?
- New Haven.

Right before a certain shady restaurant
owner moved from there to New York City,

bringing his disgusting
New Haven pizza with him.

And Eric was in county lockup

on a drunk and disorderly,
right here in New York City,

where God-fearing people know
better to put clams on pizza.

- Boom!
- Does "boom" mean I get to talk now?

- Yes.
- And our favorite pizza guy

bet $20,000 against Mickey that night.

- That's a lot of clams.
- And a lot of motive.

Boom, boom!

Remember me?

Yeah, cop who hates my pizza.

Turned it into a whole New York,
us-against-the-world thing.

Sorry about that. Truth be told, I have
not been able to stop thinking about it.

Don't say another word.
I got a slice coming up.

- Extra clams?
- Absolutely.

So, how's your case going?

Think we found the killer.

Your employee Eric is in custody.

Eric? Seemed like such a good kid to me.

Seemed that way to me, too.

There's just one loose end.

When we asked you before, you said that Eric

was with you the morning of the murder,
and you even showed us a time card.

Look, I didn't think Eric was involved.

He was always in trouble. So,
he came to me and asked me

if I could say I was with him all morning.

I didn't think he was involved in a murder.

- I never would...
- But you didn't think that, did you?

Come again?

We traced Eric's gun back to New Haven.

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

The way I figure it,

you gave Eric the gun and told him
to get the money back that you lost

after Mickey won the fight
that he had promised to throw.

Win-win for you, either way.

He gets your money back,
or he's killed trying.

But, bonus, the gun you
used in Mickey's murder

is tied to Eric.

Here you go. New Haven's finest.

Oh, with the secret recipe,

which means you're the only one who's
even allowed to shuck the clams.

I assume there's a point here?

When we tested the casing of
the bullet that killed Mickey,

I thought that the traces
of calcium carbonate

were from the makeup in the car.

I was wrong. Rare, but it happens.

It was from clam shells.

I bet you a real New York pizza

that when we test the casing
against your special clams,

they're gonna match.

- I'm calling my lawyer.
- You know what, you do that.

And I'm gonna make sure that
you never see the light of day.

For Mickey.

And for this abomination.

Really.

Morning, deputy commish.
What brings you back?

Please, don't shout.

Wow, must have been a crazy night.

Any good Laura stories you'd like to share?

- What happens at book club...
- Copy that.

- You looking for Laura?
- Actually, I'm here on business.

More treasure from the Cortez bust?

Not exactly. Everything has
to go back. DEA's claiming it.

We kinda dipped into some of the money.

That's fine, as long as you got receipts.

Silver lining, that goes
away forever and ever.

You know what, you can keep it.

- Thank you.
- RG3.

- Thank you so much.
- Rg3...

You're standing?

Barely.

So, when are we raging again?

My boys are on a sleepover this weekend.

- Well, I think I need a little recovery time.
- Okay, well...

- Recover fast.
- Oh, God, I mean...

Listen to you, Ms. "I'm too
busy to party with my posse."

Yes, yes, that was me.

But then last night,

when I was holding your hair to make
sure you didn't get throw up in it...

You got a C minus on that
assignment, by the way.

Sorry.

I realized that I miss being
there to hold someone's hair.

And knowing someone's there to hold mine.

- Call me next week.
- Will do.

Lightweight.

Thanks for rallying two nights in a row.

Not a problem. I have a PhD in rallying.

- Hello, doctor.
- Hello.

Wait a minute, do I seriously
have you to myself right now?

Mmm-hmm.

- There's no drunk girlfriends you gotta take care of?
- Nope.

- No murders to solve?
- Mmm-mmm.

No ex-husband who's gonna show up out of nowhere?

No to all of the above.

And I have a babysitter for another hour.

- Mmm...
- Any other questions?

Yeah, what are we waiting for? Come on.

What?

- Nothing.
- Mmm?

Come on, give it up.

It's just... I like you.

I like you too.

Well, that's a good thing, right?
Two people, liking each other.

Oh, not in my experience.

Okay, can we just dance?

Yes, yes, we can.

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