All language subtitles for Hill.Street.Blues.S02E10.The.Spy.Who.Came.in.From.Delgado.720p.WEB-DL.AAC2.0.H.264-squalor_prob3_track3_[und]

NARRATOR: In the last episode
of Hill Street Blues...

-(tires squealing)
-(screams)

I want this golf ball booked, locked up
or I quit.

You got to put yourself back in reality.

My goal is to have a sandwich
named after me.

I hope you had that checked
like I told you.

Black mole cancer, Ray.

I mean, it can just get you like that.
You'll be dead within four weeks.

I lost my gun, my departmental piece.

-(chuckles)
-Yeah, little did someone stole it.

You know it just seems
like everywhere you look it's just...

death, death, death.

(men laughing)

Excuse me, Captain, this is for you.

It's a subpoena.

Are you implying I'm guilty of a crime,
Mr. Peck?

I'm implying that you may have
perjured yourself today.

Now, who knows what skeletons
a Caribbean past can hold?

Ray, you weren't involved in that
Bay of Pigs fiasco, by any chance?

Will you visit me in prison?

(chuckles) Every Sunday.

ESTERHAUS: Item 11, Operation Fido.

(all barking)

Very funny. Very funny.

But Operation Fido is no laughing matter.

Early this morning, a wino was found
chewed to death in an alleyway.

In recent weeks, our wild dog population
has been responsible for dozens

of house pets murdered
and one confirmed child death.

As many as 40 of these
highly territorial animals

may be found holed up
in the abandoned tenements

at the south end of Jefferson.

The S.P.C.A. has urgently requested
our assistance.

Therefore, check the duty board.

Lieutenant Hunter
will be conducting a briefing...

-Gimme some of that? Yeah?
-...in Roll Call at 8:30 a.m.

Bates, Coffey, Ballantine, Webster,
Gornick, Selwyn, Washington, LaRue.

-What?
-Hey, LaRue, I always knew you dated dogs.

Yeah? Your sister back in town?

Item 12. We'll have two new clerical
personnel on line today

a Ms. Emily Williams
and Mr. Regis Pastorini.

Let's give these new civilian transfers
every opportunity

to begin their work experience on the Hill

productively and happily, shall we?

-(all chattering, laughing)
-I.E., to the ad hoc welcoming committee,

let's try and control ourselves
with regard to...

whoopee cushions, buzzers, rubber pencils,

squirting boutonnieres, exploding cigars,

et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Last item,

once again I am obligated to express
concern vis-à-vis

a certain flair for practical joking
endemic to this department.

To the anonymous wit who placed
the following classified ads

in the personal section
of this week's Adult Free Press,

Uh, "Please spank me,
I love to be spanked. Shari."

(all laughing, hooting)

ESTERHAUS: 555-8161.

And, "Mature dominant lady,

attractive blond in black negligee,
garter belt, hose and heels.

Call Mistress Lucy."

-(all laughing, hooting)
-555-8161.

-Guys, let me remind you,
-I didn't know that.

our phones are busy enough
trying to handle

our fellow citizens' complaints of crime.

Really, their sexual problems
should be directed elsewhere.

Ladies, nos excuses sinceres.
All right, let's roll.

-(chattering)
-And, hey! Hey!

Let's be careful out there.

Oh, Mistress Lucy,
your whip is so stingy and cruel,

but how can I live without it?

She hit me, man.
No, man, she really hit me.

Oh, come on, man.
We gotta hustle us up on some--

WOMAN (on radio):
Dispatch. We have a 9-11.

Armed robbery in progress.

See Surplus Store,
corner People's Drive and 124th Street.

(sirens wailing)

(theme song playing)

Some day. First they put me
on the poo-poo squad.

Now it turns out
I'm your basic submissive type.

Uh, what the hell are you guys doing?

-We got an undercover assignment, J.D.
-You?

You think I ought to hide my piece
in my boots, J.D.?

Watch where you're stepping today there,
old boy.

Captain, I was coming to see you.

I mean, what is it,
am I being punished or something?

I mean you've got these juveniles,
these infants, out there in plain clothes

and you got me and Neal
on the hydrant-sniffing tour.

First of all, J.D., I don't have
to justify your assignment to you,

so you can just keep your tongue
in your face.

But the reason is, we're operating
a scam saloon down in South Ferry

with some of Jerry Fuchs's people.

You and Neal have already
worked South Ferry.

They know you there,
so you can't do it, okay?

Yes, sir.

Say, J.D., if Frank Serpico calls, tell
him I'm under for a couple of days, huh?

See ya, J.D.!

I was in that Sullivan Commission
grand jury room less than five minutes

when Donald Peck went for my jugular.

Yeah, we all read the papers, Frank.

Do we have everything covered?

Chits for expenses,
units for personal use?

-We're as clean as a whistle, Frank.
-Henry?

-I think we're fine, Frank.
-Okay, good. Thank you.

-Yes, Phil?
-Well, there is the matter of Art Delgado.

Oh, my God, Delgado.
Get him up here as fast as you can.

-I'll get right on it.
-In uniform.

Right.

Thank you.

Delgado left to go fishing at Taft Lake.

Ave Maria.

I'm gonna get some coffee.

Oh, is this coffee for uniforms only

or are civilian employees
like myself allowed?

-This Coffey's for uniforms and civilians.
-That's cute.

HUNTER: All right, there's just one more
item I'd like to cover here, gentlemen.

We faced one formidable obstacle
in that most search dogs,

including all of the Division's,

are trained for no
more than one specific task.

Hence, no trainer in the area
would lend us his dogs

for our somewhat unique purpose.

I know a guy who has a Mexican hairless
we can get.

-(laughing)
-We're talking dogs, Joe, not women.

-(hooting)
-Funny, J.D., very funny.

Fortunately, I overcame the dilemma

through the aid of an old hunting
chum of mine.

It appears that basset hounds,

besides being among
our foremost canine olfactors,

are extremely underrated as hunting dogs.

Now, a brace of these outstanding animals

are going to be joining us
at the staging area.

-Any questions?
-Yeah.

Uh, we get a dry cleaning allowance
on this one?

(laughter)

WOMAN: Excuse me, Sergeant.

Are the first three digits on the time
card Precinct or Divisional?

It's Divisional, Precinct and Department.

My goodness,
that's an alluring cologne you're wearing.

I'm not wearing any cologne.

Miss Williams, forgive me
if I'm misreading the situation,

but this being your first day of work,

I feel it would only be fair of me
to warn you.

Warn me? What about?

Well-- (chuckles)

I don't know what it is,
my wisdom, perhaps,

my elder statesman ways,
my worldly experience,

savoir faire, joie de vivre--

Who knows? The fact is,

with all due modesty,
women have a tendency to become...

somewhat precipitously enamored of me.

It's a paternal something I exude.

And I just don't want you being hurt.

Believe me, the troubles,
the aches of every description.

I say this not simply
out of moral obligation, Miss Williams.

It's for the protection of both of us.

-(laughs)
-What-- Is anything wrong?

My contact lens is off my eye.

Oh, no. I think it fell under the desk.

It has a little tint of blue in it.

ESTERHAUS: Is it hard or soft?

Hard. Definitely.

Wired and ready, Lieutenant.

You just flick the little switch
under here

and your warning signal's
gonna start to flash.

Uh, Belker, old sport,
you forgot to shave this morning.

No, I didn't.
I never shave in the morning.

Sometimes I'll shave at night.

But, Belker,
you're supposed to look like a bartender,

and unlike detectives on the Hill,
bartenders shave before they go to work.

I'll take care of the customers,
you take care of the video.

Okay, dog breath?

Yeah. Sure.

Sure, Belker.

Now, what does he know about shaving?

All he did is go to school for 20 years,

look at his French teacher's anatomy,
and now he's a lieutenant.

Just my luck. I finally get a chance
to get a little ahead in the ball game,

and my gun gets robbed.

It could set me back, Bobby,
if somebody, like,

assassinated the mayor with it
or something.

You should've reported it
in the first place.

Don't give me that "in the first place."

If you hadn't all of a sudden decided
to get domestic with that Denise,

we could've snuck off with the
Malanchuk sisters after the wedding,

I wouldn't have had to go
to that poker game

and none of this would've happened
in the first place.

You do have a way of looking at things,
don't ya, son?

(knocking)

Customer.

We're not open yet!

Name's Gerson

from the Department of Buildings.
Electrical.

-Are you in charge?
-Yup.

Oh, boy,
you really got some problems here.

For openers, those junction boxes
in the ceiling have all gotta have covers.

And you're way overloaded
on that 15 amp circuit over there.

And look at that fan.

Now you ought to know you can't have wires
exposed like that.

-It needs armored cable.
-Would you like to have a seat?

Yeah, I figure you're looking
at about $3,000-worth of repairs,

bring it up to code,
so I could let you open the front doors.

Of course, I know a guy who can fix it
for you for a hundred bucks.

-You do? Who's that?
-Me.

Wait a minute,
for a hundred bucks you could do that?

What exactly are you telling me?

I could pass the inspection
if I give you a hundred dollars, right?

What's the matter, buddy,
you got a hearing problem?

It's a hundred bucks this month.
Fifty the next.

I only paid 35 up in the Heights.

Inflation hits us all.

No, no, that ain't inflation.
That's robbery.

You don't like it?

All right. All right.

There's your hundred bucks.

Next month put it in an envelope.

Ah, look at this place.

This place is gonna clear, easy,
10 grand a week.

And you begrudge me a lousy hundred.

BELKER: Bingo.

-Did you get that, hairball?
-Ready when you are, guys.

Taft Lake?

-What the hell's Delgado doing up there?
-He's fishing, Francis.

We've sent Willis and Peterson up
in a unit to track him down.

Well, as soon as they do, I want him
in uniform and out in that squad room.

-Mm-hm.
-But what if we cannot find him?

-Don't say "cannot," Ray. Find him.
-All right.

What's the worst case contingency, Henry?

My brother-in-law just got laid off.
We can put him in Delgado's uniform.

We screen all sadists out
at the academy level.

Courtesy of the Reinhold Hunt Club,
gentlemen,

I give you Max and Tyrone.

Purebred registrants of A.K.C.
and the Field Dog Stud Book,

and recipients each, I might add,
of the Schiller Basset Club's

"Golden Mallard" award
for tracking and show.

And while you're doing the door-to-door,

me and the guys here will be closing in
from the perimeter.

You mean you're gonna send
a pair of pedigreed lapdogs

against a pack of wino-eating junkyard
mutts?

Lapdogs? Judas Priest, man!

These animals have been bred for armed
conflict for near eight centuries now.

Look at these teeth!

(growls)

They are virtual fighting machines,

not to mention
their obvious tracking ability.

Okay, people, remember this,

that pack of dogs out there
has tasted human blood.

So let's use our hollow points first
and ask questions later.

Man, I've been kicked in the groin,
beat up, shot and left for dead,

acquired a social disability
directly traceable

to the ongoing pressures of police work.

Where do I find myself
at the ripe old age of 34?

Am I in an upwardly mobile environment?

Am I looking toward
a productive middle age?

Damn, I knew I should've wore gloves.

Come on, Joe,
I know a hickey when I see one.

Who'd you go out with? Vampira?

All right. All right,
so I had a busy dance card this week.

-Are we jealous?
-Me? Jealous?

Look, Joe, I don't care

if you wanna act like a Mediterranean
lounge lizard on your off hours.

I mean, that doesn't mean anything to me,
but I just think

that you ought to be aware of some
of the terrible social diseases

that go along with that sort
of casual activity.

Believe me, Luce,
there was nothing casual about it.

You know, they found some
new Southeast Asian viruses

they haven't even named yet.

Then I tell ya what I'm gonna do,
sweetheart.

If I catch one of these strange viruses,
I'm gonna name it after you.

Take your time, now, guys.
Just breathe it in, Max.

That's it. That's it.
Nose it up there, Ty.

Did you know
that a Basset's olfactory capability

is nearly 200 times that of man's?

(sniffs deeply) Whiff it up there, boys.

Let's find those four-legged killers.

-Lieutenant.
-Ballantine. Shh.

Can't you see these guys
are testing the waters?

(sniffs)

Webster, please,
you're gonna throw them off the scent.

It wasn't me, sir.

I found some dog-pack droppings
in an alley off Ashland.

Good enterprise, Ballantine.

Nothing like a bag of jakes for a hound
to get a mental picture of its prey.

I tell you,
one whiff of that and they'll zero in

on those canine half-breeds
like a couple of heat-seeking missiles.

-Come on, boys.
-(whimpering)

Hey! Who told you to do that?

Watch it, will ya?
Nobody told me to do it. They're dirty.

I want you in the bar like you were told.

And when it's time to play Mr. Fix-it,
I'll let you know.

(growls)

(laughing)

-What do you want?
-Nothing. I come in to see the show.

We don't have no show here.

Oh? Well, how come there's a guy in a cape
and red tights outside

ready to jump through your window?

(laughing)

Hey! Hey! Hey!

-Mick, are you okay?
-What are you doing?

I'm coming to the rescue.
I spotted the signal.

Danger, Mick's in trouble.

(laughing)

-Where are the bad guys?
-They're in your head, playing canasta.

You know, Mick, if that danger signal
was meant as a prank,

I'm not laughing, that is irresponsible.

You're following me, aren't you?

You have been marked
by the Queen of Venus.

She has her "mutoids" looking for you
everywhere.

This has gotta stop,
do you understand that?

I don't wanna see you anymore.
I don't wanna know you. You're a beanbag.

Look at you. You're a banana pie.
Get out of this place.

I want you out of my life.
I want you off this planet.

I want you to picture something, Mick.

A little boy alone in his room,
no friends, no pets,

his only plaything,
a toy truck without any wheels

that he picked out of the trash.

The kids outside ridiculed him
because he was born

with one leg shorter than the other.

His father drinks and beats him,
his mother walks the room at night

screaming that she never wanted him.

There is a tiny,
dark space behind the bureau

that he crawls into.

A hiding place from the endless ache
of his life.

While he's there,

he spends the hours pretending
that a beautiful woman

in a white gown holds him in her arms

and tells him that she loves him.

That's the only way he can survive, Mick.

Escape... to make-believe.

A kitchen table becomes a castle,
a broken chair a rocket to the moon.

Is it right to take that away from him?

Is it right to cancel out
the last sanctuary

that human suffering can run to?

Captain, I'm sorry.

Oh, no need, Mick.

The boy grew up, bought into computers,
and now he owns half of Davenport, Iowa.

I read it in Reader's Digest.

(groans)

You will never believe
what I saw just ten minutes ago.

A five-car pile-up on the Niagara Street
off-ramp.

There were stretchers all over the place.

-Uh, gee. I gotta go.
-Me too.

-Nice to see you, Fay.
-Hi, Henry.

-Excuse me, Fay.
-Phil.

Adios, Fay.

-How are you, Fay?
-Pretty good, Frank.

-You are?
-I really am.

I think I'm finally over the hump.

Figuratively speaking, of course.
(chuckles)

It's good to see you smile again.

I suppose you have plans
for lunch later on?

Well, I figured as much,
so I picked up a sandwich on my way over.

-You don't mind?
-Mind what?

Do you realize that aside from Frank Jr.
on the weekends,

I haven't had lunch with a fellow human
since Hal passed away?

You know, with all the noise
and activity here, Frank,

it's just a much more cheery place
to have lunch, don't you think?

Frank, I'm sure you have a ton of work
to take care of,

so why don't you just, you know,
pick up where you left off.

Stop treating me like a guest.

-You don't want to talk?
-I brought a book.

WOMAN: I can file those papers now.
Thank you.

Go back to work, Frank. Really, I'm fine.

Just pretend I'm part of the furnishings.

Unless you'd rather be buried
with Ms. Davenport.

Don't you think it's about time
we considered cemetery plots, Frank?

-ESTERHAUS: No! No!
-Phil.

Can you tell me what a "984-Z" is?

It's a personnel transfer
and relocation form, Ray.

Everybody knows that.

Miss Emily Williams doesn't.

I asked her to process a couple,

and she thought I was talking
about a sports car.

-So?
-So, don't you find that ironic?

Ironic? No, Ray, I don't.

A new employee alleging nearly eight years
of police clerical work

has never even heard of a 984-Z,
and you don't find that ironic?

Well, I find it somewhat surprising.
Unorthodox, perhaps.

But, certainly not ironic.

Ironic by me includes "surprising"
and "unorthodox."

Ballantine,

there's no "X" on that door down there.

Ballantine!

(sighs) For crying out loud.

-I'll deal with you two later.
-(both whimper)

The Golden Mallard Award.

(inhales, sighs)

(dog growling)

Canines.

-(clattering)
-(dogs barking)

(growls, whimpers)

(screams)

Thank you.

DAVENPORT: What's the bad news?

-The bad news is you're pitching tomorrow.
-(laughing)

-Frank, this is Douglas Comstock.
-How are you?

So, you're in hot water
with "Tail Gunner" Peck?

The guy holds up his socks with garters.
Can you believe it?

Doug represents three police officers

who've been subpoenaed at one time
or another by the Commission.

-No conflict of interest, I trust?
-No, no. No worry.

Frank, I'll tell you straight off
what I tell all my clients, I won't pry.

You tell me only as much as you feel
comfortable telling me.

Of course, the more you reveal,
the more I can do.

Do I sense an implication that you feel
I must have done something?

That's precisely
what I'd rather not get into, Frank.

What's your retainer, Mr. Comstock?

"Doug," please.

Um, that's something
we don't need to get into.

We'd better.
I'm not into Savile Row suits.

Good thing. They look lousy in court.

Especially on precinct captains.

My fee is 7,500 in advance
against 250 an hour.

I've talked this over with Joyce,
in this case,

I am prepared to halve the advance.

I can pay my way.

-Thank you. A club soda, please.
-Vermouth on the rocks, please.

Now, what we have to do
is give you some lines to say,

ready answers with lots of polish,
no brass.

No pressure, Frank.
Do you want to talk about South Ferry?

-What have you told him about South Ferry?
-We're trying to help you, Frank.

It would also be helpful if I
knew the game plan Daniels has fed you

against Sullivan.

Mr. Comstock, I have an obligation to keep
police business police business.

Get your head up, Captain.

Daniels is landing little guerrilla armies
all over town.

The police department isn't being helped
any by this investigation,

and he's determined to come out
of this like a rose.

Now your problem is,
you're so stuck with being a team player

you don't know what's happening.

If he shucks you, you've got to shuck him.

Do you think I'm guilty of something?

That's none of my business.

Do you think I'm part of what
the Sullivan Commission is all about?

That I'm using you to help get me out
from under something?

Frank.

-Cops watch after each other,
don't they, Frank?

So you want to put a new coat of paint
on the outhouse.

No, thanks, Counselor. Take a walk.

(sighs)

Joyce, let me go sit in the bar
for the moment.

You discuss it with Frank,
and if he wants my services...

What are you trying to prove?

I just don't think it's in my interest

to hire an attorney who believes
I'm guilty by the color of my eyes.

Would you please listen to yourself?

You walked into that grand jury

thinking your natural innocence
would shine like a light.

How naive.

If Doug thinks all police officers
are on the take,

then he's just parroting the attitude
of the community,

the people in that grand jury room.

So let's forget about looking innocent
and get to work on proving it.

I'm going to tell Doug
you want to retain him.

Hey, speak up a little, would you,
Ballantine? I can hardly hear you.

We're at Avenue D and Jefferson, LaRue.
We haven't seen any sign of him yet.

We'll keep up the door-to-door down
Jefferson to Avenue C.

You check out every one of those dumps
that hasn't been "X'd" yet.

BALLANTINE: You got it. Over and out.

Coffey, Bates, this is Washington.
What's happening out there?

COFFEY: Yeah, Neal, we just finished up
the north end of Avenue B

between Jefferson and Utica,
but no Hunter.

COFFEY:
Maybe he went to lunch or something.

Sure, Joe. Sure. The neighborhood's just
loaded with five-star joints.

-Hey, keep looking, huh, Joe?
-COFFEY: Right.

Hey, how about taking a unit
'round the back of these projects

-and see what you turn up, okay?
-Right.

-(sighs)
-Great operation, Neal.

Wind chill factor's down
to a good minus 80,

the canine corps
won't get out of the damn car

and the ramrod of the whole gig
got himself lost

for the rest of the afternoon.

I'm telling you, man,
we're wasting away here by the second.

Yeah, I know, babe. Hawaii.

(speaking French)

-Hiya, Phil.
-Well, hello, Art.

Good to see you, you old reprobate.

You're looking swell.

The place is the same.

-It sure is. It sure is.
-So? Here I be.

I want you to know that I'm ready
for whatever it is you need me for.

Something big going down?

Well, you know, Art, we always need
a sharp pair of eyes here at the fort.

Phil, I'm gonna need my pistol back.

Oh, sure. Plenty of time for that.

The important thing is for you
to re-acclimate yourself

around the clubhouse.

Wow!

(exhales, coughs)

BATES (on radio): Joe, did you look
in the lot behind the wall?

COFFEY: Twice. Look, I'll check it again
and work back toward you.

Coffey! Bates!

Problem situation upstairs!

Get up here on the double!

Move it!

Officer needs assistance! Code 211!

Hey, guys, I'm up here!

Help! Help!

So what if she's been poking
around a little?

It's the natural exploratory instinct.
A way of settling in to a new environment.

What about this?

There was a computer in Washington
that lost Idaho.

I don't buy it. That's why I'm calling
a friend of mine in Personnel.

Ray, you're just naturally suspicious
of gorgeous women.

-It's a... It's a Mediterranean mind-set.
-Yes, yes, yes. I'm here.

What? Are you sure?

Are you positively sure?

Thanks, Jimmy. I owe you on this one.

-So?
-We got trouble, Henry.

(sighs) Chances of survival are optimum.

The trick is to maintain a clear faculty.

-(dog growling)
-Things have been much worse.

-(breathing heavily)
-(growling, barking)

(barking, snarling)

-(grunts)
-(barking)

(growling)

(barking)

-(snarling, barking)
-(grunting)

-(whimpers)
-(barking)

(barking, snarling stops)

(sighs)

-Come in.
-You wanted me, Captain?

Who sent you here, Ms. Williams?

I was assigned out of the Division pool.

Why? Is there anything wrong with my work?

Please, drop the act, Detective.
We know who you are.

If you don't mind my asking,
how did you find out?

Let's just say we have a keen instinct
for deception up here on the Hill.

-It would seem so.
-What does that mean?

It's hard to know just how far
out of policy you are, Captain.

But aside from the usual stuff,

officers signing each other out early,

use of the postage meter
for personal mail,

money appropriated from petty cash
and never reimbursed.

There's the matter
of a certain Officer Delgado

who has the strangest schedule
I've ever seen.

According to records, he's worked
multiple shifts in the same day,

he's made simultaneous arrests
miles apart.

It's none of my business, Captain,

but I met your Officer Delgado
a little while ago,

and, quite honestly, one gets the feeling

he ought to be doodling
in his coloring book.

Get out of here.

I'd always heard good things
about you, Captain.

I hope they're true.

"Believe me, Frank, I need your help.
Square business, Frank.

You're one of only four men
in the entire department I can trust."

Believe me, Frank,
it was for your own benefit.

You plant a department spy in my squad
room and you call that a benefit?

What did you expect me to do,
take out an ad in the Police Gazette?

It's a jungle out there, Frank.

And who'd you rather have digging
through your garbage,

me or that little hatchet man Sullivan?

Right now I'm hard-pressed
to see the difference.

You're taking a very parochial view
of all this, Frank.

At least if any wrongdoing
is exposed in my investigation,

we can handle it internally...

so to speak!

And if you don't mind my saying so,

I think it's in damn poor taste
to come down and lay this on me

not two hours after losing
half my rectal history

to those snip-happy plumbers downstairs.

As for your backside, Chief,

I'd say you've done a pretty fair job
of covering it.

A good trick to know,
now that it's every man for himself.

Let's don't get reckless, Frank.

You've been like a kid brother to me.
I'd like to keep it that way.

Time to change your dressing, Chief.

-Who are these women?
-Student nurses.

Don't be embarrassed, Chief.
To us you're just another patient.

(paper rustling)

-How's everything, Howard?
-Oh, just dandy, Frank.

They're keeping me overnight
for observation.

Yeah, I just got a couple of minor
scratches, that's all.

Sounds as if you
had a frightening experience.

Well, tell the truth, Frank,
I have never really known fear.

My mind was working
like a computer out there.

Sifting options,
making split-second decisions.

Howard,

I'm putting you in
for an "A" and "B" Citation,

and for a Medal of Valor.

Well, I can't tell you how much
that means to me, old sport.

It's a dirty and dangerous job that we do,

but that sort of peer group recognition...

(sobs) ...makes it all worthwhile.

-I'm sorry.
-(knocking)

Uh, excuse me,
you got a Howard Hunter in here?

(sighs) I'm Lieutenant Hunter.

Sweet Madonna.

(stutters) Are these for me?

Yeah. And the card comes with them.

"I sometimes think that never blows
so red the rose

as where some buried Caesar bled."

(laughs)

No one has ever sent flowers to me before.

-Who's it from?
-The Sullivan Commission.

You've been subpoenaed to reappear.

Judas H. Priest!

I have worn the brown helmet in my day,
but this is inexcusable.

How could any right-thinking man
pull this kind of despicable,

gutter-snipe maneuver?

-Get out of here, you unprincipled mange!
-Hey!

Wait a second here.
And I'm a human being too, you know?

Think people care about my feelings?
No way. People treat me like dirt.

Folks even set their dogs on me.

-Don't talk to me about dogs, sir!
-Easy, Howard. Take it easy.

You know, nobody appreciates the artistry
involved, the expense.

I got overhead.

You think these outfits just come my way?
And what about the flowers?

I had a kid in the hospital for tonsils
last month. Set me back over a grand.

Who do you think pays for all that?

Sure, it's a rotten job.

I'd rather be Bunky Hunt,
but someone's gotta do it.

Captain Furillo?
Phone call out at the desk.

Oh, thank you. Howard.

Frank Furillo? This one's for you.

Have a nice day.

Out.

Hey, is it asking too much of you
not to spill beer on my date?

-Excuse me.
-Well, wipe it up.

You wipe it up, barfbag.

Andale, Garçon. Couple of young tunas down
there just dying for a quaff

of that Sauvignon Blanc.

WOMAN: Excuse me, bartender. Over here.

-There's more people in here than--
-MAN: Bartender!

-You got a hearing problem?
-Hold your water, spitoon-face.

-I'll be there in a minute.
-You tell 'em, Cary Grant.

-Can I help you, my man?
-Where's the owner?

(laughs) You're looking at him.
At least, one of them.

My partner's not here right now.

-What can I do for you?
-Sit down.

Yeah, sure.

-What'll you have?
-Whiskey, straight up.

Jackson! Whiskey straight up.

-Business is looking good.
-We got a great location.

-You also have a serious parking problem.
-What do you mean?

You got a red zone out front.
No place to park.

Well, you know,
we're banking on a lot of foot traffic.

You're not hearing me, boy.

You got a student population here.

Now how many of 'em do you think

are holding a couple of joints right now,
maybe a little blow?

Hmm?

What are you saying exactly?

I'm saying a hundred bucks a week'll make
your parking problem go away.

What you're saying is that
for a hundred bucks a week,

my customers won't be harassed?

Hm.

Consider it a promotional expense.

-Hmm?
-Yeah.

Don't take it so hard, boy.
You got a gold mine here,

if you don't screw it up.

You know what I'm saying?

-Hmm?
-Yeah.

Okay.

Be a good boy.

I don't want Douglas Comstock
for my attorney.

-If it's the money--
-It's not.

Your decision, Frank.

What would you say if I told you
that Michael Sullivan,

Fletcher Daniels, Donald Peck,

a fiendish Mata Hari named Emily Williams

and Art Delgado

are all up to their wishbones
in an insanely clever plot

to sully the shining reputation
of an Italian precinct captain?

Who's Art Delgado?

Burn-out case.

Cop who lost it six months
before his twenty-year pension.

We've been keeping him on the roster
as a paper soldier.

You know, signing him in and out
so he can retire with enough to live on.

-Sullivan know about him?
-He will.

Sounds like a violation.

It is a violation.

-Anything I can do, Frank?
-Mm-hmm.

(laughs)

Don't leave town for the next eight hours.
Okay?

(closing theme playing)