Maranello - the F1 soap opera
Episode Ten
or
What They Did On Their Holidays...
Scene 1 - A bar in Chicago.
Screen caption: 'Two Weeks After the Nurburgring' comes up. A TV in the corner is
screening the action from Wrigley Field as MIKA and DAVID lean on the bar.
MIKA: |
Mineral water. This time. |
DC: |
Ferchrissake, Mika, there's weeks to go yet. A couple of beers won't
do you any harm. |
DC: |
But you've already drunk pints of Evian on the flight. No wonder
neither of those stewardesses wanted to meet you later. |
MIKA: |
Flying causes dehydration. |
DC: |
You should just pop a few Valium and smoke a spliff in the
first-class toilet, like I do. |
BARTENDER: |
You wanna drink or what, man? |
DC: |
Another triple for me and a water for him. |
BARTENDER: |
Comin' right up. |
DC: |
Sorry about my friend. He's Finnish. |
BARTENDER: |
Hey, ain't nuthin' to me, man. |
DC: |
We decided to come over here for a holiday. |
MIKA: |
Monaco is dull. Too hot. |
DC: |
Just turned up at the airport and picked the next flight out. |
BARTENDER: |
Sure, whatever. |
DC: |
(conspiratorially) So, like, where do we go to meet some women in
this town? |
BARTENDER: |
Lotta broads hang out down by the Loop. Good-lookin' kinda broads,
not hos. |
BARTENDER: |
Lotsa tony kinda bars down there. |
(Suddenly, Mika slumps to the floor and lies there, motionless).
BARTENDER: |
Hey, man, what's your friend puttin' in his water? |
DC: |
Hey, Mika! (He prods him.) Stop pissing around. We've got to go and
meet those stewardesses in a minute... Mika! Come on! This isn't funny! |
BARTENDER: |
Hey, man, you better get out of here. I don't want no trouble if
he's on drugs, man... |
BARTENDER: |
You gotta call the paramedics, man! He ain't lookin' too good! |
DC: |
(flashing a twenty) Can you take care of that for me? |
(The BARTENDER makes a call and a few minutes later an Med-Alert rig pulls up to
the bar. DC watches anxiously as the paramedics examine MIKA before loading him up on a
stretcher and carrying him into the ambulance.)
PARAMEDIC: |
How old is he? |
PARAMEDIC: |
Is he on any medication? |
DC: |
I don't think so. Maybe some amino acid complex to help him train,
but nothing prescription. |
PARAMEDIC: |
OK, we have to take him down to the ER. |
DC: |
Is he going to be OK? He's got a big weekend coming up... (he tails
off sadly). |
(A short drive later, the unconscious MIKA is unloaded from the ambulance and DC
also gets out to be confronted by a tall, balding, bespectacled man in green scrubs and a
brunette nurse in pink overalls. The two take charge of the trolley and rush it into the
E.R., with the paramedics and DC trailing behind.)
DR GREENE: |
What have we got? |
PARAMEDIC: |
This is Mika, 28 years old, previously in good health, not on any
medication. Collapsed in a bar downtown for no apparent reason. Pulse 90, bp 90/24, no
respiratory arrest. |
DR GREENE: |
OK, I got it. All ready? 1-2-3... |
(Dr GREENE and a few nurses lift MIKA on to the resus table.)
DR GREENE: |
OK, get me a CBC, chem 7, blood gas, and let's have a look at
this... |
(In the background, DAVID is looking anxious. Suddenly, a stocky figure with
attractively greying hair and a lab coat on shoulders past him.)
DR ROSS: |
What have we got? |
HATHAWAY: |
This is Mika. He collapsed in a bar downtown. No history, slightly
elevated pulse, no obvious signs of trauma. |
DR GREENE: |
It's OK Doug, I can handle this. |
DR ROSS: |
(ignoring him) OK, distension of the upper left quadrant, some
respiratory retardation... |
DR GREENE: |
(looking up from MIKA's prone form) What happened to your gunshot
wound? |
DR ROSS: |
Oh, he didn't make it. |
DR GREENE: |
That's too bad, Doug. How long you been on for now? |
DR ROSS: |
Oh, a couple of days, give or take an hour. You know. |
(Suddenly MIKA begins to groan and twitch.)
DR GREENE: |
(bending down to MIKA's head) Hey, Mika! I'm Dr Greene. You're in
the hospital. You're gonna be OK, we're gonna take care of you. |
MIKA: |
Nnnuuuurrrrrghghghgllll! |
DR ROSS: |
Still some tenderness there, some oedema of the lymphatic tissues -
he's got pneumothorax! |
DR GREENE: |
I don't think so, Doug. |
DR ROSS: |
Gimme a No 15 tube and a long needle! |
HATHAWAY: |
Dr Greene... (She looks questioningly.) |
DR GREENE: |
Doug, I said I can handle this. |
(Suddenly there is a commotion in the hallway. NURSE HATHAWAY rushes over to the
incoming casualty.)
HATHAWAY: |
We need you over here, Doug! |
DR ROSS: |
I got it. (he moves over to the other casualty.) |
DR GREENE: |
(suddenly having an idea) Can somebody get me another bp reading? |
NURSE: |
It's 100/25, Dr Greene. |
DR GREENE: |
Is there anyone come in with him? |
NURSE: |
That guy over there. |
(She motions to the corridor, where DC is chatting up a petite Hispanic nurse.)
DR GREENE: |
I wanna talk to him a minute. (He walks out of the trauma room.)
Excuse me? |
DC: |
Is he going to be all right, Doctor? |
DR GREENE: |
Sure. Has he eaten or drunk anything out of the ordinary in the past
24 hours? |
DC: |
Um - not really. Not unless you count mineral water. He kept
drinking it all the way over here in the plane. |
DR GREENE: |
Your friend is suffering from hyperhydration. He's collapsed because
he's drunk too much water and it's disturbed the fluid balance of his body. |
DC: |
But you can treat that, can't you? |
DR GREENE: |
Sure. We'll give him some diuretics and keep him in for observation.
He should be OK tomorrow but we do need to treat him in the hospital. |
DC: |
Alcohol is a diuretic, isn't it? |
MIKA: |
Hhhhuuurrnnghghghrrru! |
DR ROSS: |
(on his way out of the room) Sure is, man! (winking) |
DC: |
So if we give him enough alcohol, that would have the same effect,
right? |
DR GREENE: |
No, I really don't recommend that you - |
(DC pushes past him and hoists MIKA over one well-developed shoulder.)
DC: |
Come on, mate, if we hurry we won't even be late for meeting those
stewardesses! |
HATHAWAY: |
This really isn't a good idea. Your friend needs to stay in the
hospital so we can treat him. |
DC: |
Don't worry. I'll look after him. |
(He rushes out into the snowy Chicago streets, MIKA over one shoulder.)
Scene 2 - A dingy looking bar in Baltimore.
In the foreground, JACQUES is sitting at the bar nursing a can of Colt .45 and
looking moody. Beside him, MIKA SALO is knocking back shots of Jim Beam whilst CRAIG
fastidiously sips at a mineral water.
CRAIG: |
Are you sure this is the best place for seafood in Baltimore? |
JACQUES: |
That's what I heard. |
MIKA SALO: |
Kind of a rough area, isn't it? |
JACQUES: |
What, are you scared? |
CRAIG: |
I was crazy to listen to you two. 'New York's too busy', you said,
'Los Angeles is too far away', you said. 'Nobody cares about Formula 1 in Baltimore', you
said... |
JACQUES: |
Craig, relax. We'll have some crab cakes, stroll out by the
waterfront... then tomorrow we can go and see the Orioles play. |
CRAIG: |
If I take out my mobile phone, do you think I'll get beaten up? |
MIKA SALO: |
Everyone'll just think you're a drug dealer. |
Suddenly, a hush falls over the bar as the door opens and two men in suits and
trenchcoats come in. One is African-American, the other a lanky white man. Several patrons
begin to sidle discreetly out of the side and back entrances, but the pair make unerringly
for JACQUES and his companions. As one of them removes his hat, we see his head is
completely bald. CRAIG chokes on his Evian.
CRAIG: |
Uh... can we help you? |
PEMBLETON: |
Certainly, sir. I'm Detective Pembleton and this is Detective
Bayliss of Baltimore City Police. We're investigating a suspicious death that occurred in
the early hours of this morning. In a rental car registered to a Mr C Pollock. |
CRAIG: |
That's me! In my...what? I....Who is it? What happened? |
PEMBLETON: |
I think we should discuss this down at the police department. Would
you mind coming downtown with us now, sir? |
CRAIG: |
Yes! I mean no! Aren't you supposed to read me my rights? I want a
lawyer! |
PEMBLETON: |
You are not under arrest, Mr Pollock. You do not need a lawyer. |
CRAIG: |
I'm a British citizen! I want to see my ambassador! |
PEMBLETON: |
I'm afraid you can't. He got shot two weeks ago. Now are you going
to come along, or do I have to handcuff you? |
(Meanwhile, JACQUES and the tall, lanky detective are exchanging meaningful
glances.)
BAYLISS: |
Frank, perhaps we should take Mr Pollock's companions down with us? |
PEMBLETON: |
Come on, Tim. We don't need to talk to them. |
BAYLISS: |
No you come on, Frank. I think we should talk to them. |
PEMBLETON: |
You want to call for a squad car? You want to turn this whole thing
into a major incident with five patrol cars and handcuffs and snipers on the building
opposite, instead of a simple, civilised conversation between intelligent men, in the
tasteful and convenient environment of a city homicide office? Will that remind you of
being in the QRT? Fine. Be my guest. *I* am leaving. |
(He turns round abruptly and escorts CRAIG out of the bar).
BAYLISS: |
Frank... (He turns to the other two) Come on. |
MIKA: |
He says you don't need to talk to us. |
BAYLISS: |
And I say we do. Come on. |
JACQUES: |
Don't you want to handcuff me? |
BAYLISS: |
You're not a suspect, Mr Villeneuve. |
(The three men walk out onto the street, where a battered white Cavalier is
parked at the kerb.)
PEMBLETON: |
That's just great, De-tec-tive Bayliss. What do you suggest we do?
Put one of them in the boot of the car? |
BAYLISS: |
I'll call for backup. |
(Before he can find a pay phone, however, another white Cavalier comes roaring up
to the bar and two men spill out. One is an African-American with a goatee beard and the
car's driver is a stocky strawberry blond in a dark shirt and leather jacket.)
PEMBLETON: |
What the hell are you doing, Lewis? Kellerman? |
(He receives no reply as the two detectives charge into the bar. PEMBLETON turns
to BAYLISS.)
PEMBLETON: |
Is there some kind of a convention for homicide suspects going on in
there or something? |
(The two detectives come rushing out of the bar again and come up to the group,
out of breath.)
LEWIS: |
Hey, sorry 'bout that. |
KELLERMAN: |
We were just (puff) chasing a suspect. |
PEMBLETON: |
And I take it he is not, in fact, in the bar? |
LEWIS: |
No way. Musta headed out long before we got here. |
KELLERMAN: |
Who is this guy, anyway? Some smokehound who never got above two
miles an hour in twenty years of going down to the corner to get his heroin, and suddenly
when we want to talk to him he turns into Flo-Jo? |
LEWIS: |
Well, he did in-tro-duce a city employee's head into a cement mixer
'cause he was pissed that the city was renovatin' his block, man. I don' guess he wants to
see *us* comin' up to him. |
KELLERMAN: |
Are they still gonna use that cement now it's a little bit pink? |
LEWIS: |
Don' know, man. Got to keep costs down, nowadays. The people don'
wanna pay no more taxes, y'know? |
KELLERMAN: |
We better get back to the office. |
PEMBLETON: |
Good. Then perhaps you could take these gentlemen who De-tec-tive
Bayliss wants to talk to, down to the police department? |
LEWIS: |
Sure. But I'm drivin'. |
(MIKA SALO gets into the second Cavalier, while CRAIG and JACQUES get in the back
of PEMBLETON and BAYLISS' vehicle. Just as they are about to pull away from the kerb,
BAYLISS jumps out and runs back to the second car.
BAYLISS: |
You guys will be sure and not stop for coffee or dinner on the way,
now, huh? We don't want to lose anyone. |
(KELLERMAN growls through the window at him and LEWIS floors the gas pedal. The
first Cavalier drives off and is soon lost in the traffic, but LEWIS' vehicle has a slower
start. We follow the vehicles and 100 yards down the road from the police department, as
the first vehicle parks, LEWIS loses control and hits a fire hydrant.)
KELLERMAN: |
I don't believe this. Not again. |
SALO: |
Who are you guys anyway? |
LEWIS: |
Shut up man, I'm tryin' to think. |
KELLERMAN: |
We're definitely going to end up back in uniform now. In a radio
car, in the Central district, jackin' up every passing citizen with no probable cause. |
LEWIS: |
Hey, I got a buddy owns a body shop over in the Western. We can get
over there and still drop this guy off down at the department. |
KELLERMAN: |
I definitely should never have let you drive. |
SALO: |
Are we going anywhere or what? |
LEWIS: |
Sure we are. It'll jus' take a little longer, 's all. |
(SALO, tiring of this banter, exits the Cavalier and delivers a hefty kick to the
rear right-hand door.)
SALO: |
Try explaining that to your boss, you f**king pair of morons! (He
sprints off down the road.) |
LEWIS: |
Heyyy, wait a minute! |
(He and KELLERMAN launch themselves in pursuit and chase SALO into the police
department building.)
Scene 3 - the Baltimore PD Homicide Department.
We're in the Box. POLLOCK is cowering at the table as PEMBLETON stares into his face.
POLLOCK: |
Am I under arrest? |
PEMBLETON: |
Do you want to be? |
(POLLOCK cowers beneath PEMBLETON'S glare.)
PEMBLETON: |
Let me make sure I have everything straight now, Mr Pollock. You say
you are a professional Formula One team owner, is that right? |
POLLOCK: |
Not exactly. I mean yes, but it's part of a consortium deal with
British American Tobacco. I'm part-owner and I manage the team. |
(PEMBLETON lights a cigarette.)
PEMBLETON: |
You must have quite a good lifestyle then? |
POLLOCK: |
Um, well - I mean, yes. |
PEMBLETON: |
A man of the world such as yourself, you must understand my
position. A dead woman turns up in a car, registered in your name, and the last person to
see her alive gives us a description of a man very like yourself escorting her out of a
bar on Pennsylvania Avenue. |
POLLOCK: |
That isn't - that can't possibly- |
PEMBLETON: |
BE QUIET! I HAVE NOT FINISHED! |
(POLLOCK subsides.)
PEMBLETON: |
It turns out that when we talk to the friends and relatives of the
deceased, we discover that she earned her living and paid her taxes by selling her most
obvious assets. Assets you, as a man of the world, are obviously not immune to. |
POLLOCK: |
She was a prostitute? |
PEMBLETON: |
Does that make her death any less important? |
POLLOCK: |
I never go to prostitutes. I'm a happily married man! |
(PEMBLETON seems to soften at the mention of marriage and sits down opposite
CRAIG, offering him a cigarette.)
PEMBLETON: |
Uh-huh. Come on, Mr Pollock. I'm married too, and you know what?
Sometimes, on a warm summer's evening, I'm cruising in my car back to my home after a hard
week downtown, and I see some of these young girls in their short skirts, tiny tops,
probably no panties, and I think - what if I drove up to the kerb, just this once? Who's
gonna know I got some twenty dollar satisfaction on my way home to my wife? I'm a man, Mr
Pollock - you're a man. You're in another country, on business, nobody knows who you are -
who's gonna give you a hard time for seeking out a little bit of company? |
PEMBLETON: |
I know you never meant to kill her. Maybe she got fresh with you,
tried some kind of stunt, pulled your wallet? A little bit of blackmail, maybe she had a
pimp with her who pulled a gun on you and you panicked? |
POLLOCK: |
No! No! I didn't kill anyone! |
(Meanwhile, in a smaller room, BAYLISS is idly chatting to JACQUES.)
BAYLISS: |
So, you and Mr Pollock, are you close friends? |
JACQUES: |
(blushing furiously) Umm...er, yes. I suppose he's my best friend. |
BAYLISS: |
Frank's my best friend. |
JACQUES: |
I'm sure Craig hasn't done anything wrong. |
BAYLISS: |
Well, we'll just question him to make sure. Are you in town long? |
JACQUES: |
A few days - just for a bit of a vacation. (pause) Your, um, partner
looks a bit confrontational. |
BAYLISS: |
That's just Frank's normal demeanour. |
BAYLISS: |
Were you with him when he rented the car? |
JACQUES: |
Yes - his private jet had a mechanical failure, so we all flew
commercial. |
BAYLISS: |
(suddenly alert) So the three of you were together all the time? |
JACQUES: |
Yes, sure we were. Is it important? |
(BAYLISS slips out of the fishbowl and gets PEMBLETON out of the Box, where he
has reduced Craig to tears.)
BAYLISS: |
This guy - has he said anything about an alibi yet? |
PEMBLETON: |
He doesn't have a brain, why should he have an alibi? |
BAYLISS: |
Thing is, Frank, he was with these other guys all the time. I think
we should get these other guys in the box, have a go at them. |
PEMBLETON: |
I need to talk to the ME first. |
(Conveniently, the MEDICAL EXAMINER comes into the room.)
ME COX: |
That case you just caught? The prostitute down on Pennsylvania
Avenue? I can't rule that as a homicide, guys. |
BAYLISS: |
So what is it then? |
PEMBLETON: |
This guy just confessed to killing her.
|
ME COX: |
Well, he maybe killed some other prostitute down
there, but not
this one. Your one died of an overdose. |
BAYLISS: |
He confessed, Frank? |
PEMBLETON: |
Yeah, Tim, he confessed. |
BAYLISS: |
Can't we rule it a murder anyway? We could do with some more black
on the board. |
PEMBLETON: |
Let's just talk to these other guys and then we can let them all go
home to Fantasyland. Maybe we can start working murders again. |
(But just as PEMBLETON escorts the trembling POLLOCK from the Box and waits for
BAYLISS to take JACQUES into the Box, there is a sudden commotion as SALO, hotly pursued
by LEWIS and KELLERMAN, rushes into the room.)
KELLERMAN: |
Get back here! |
PEMBLETON: |
What the hell is going on here? |
LEWIS: |
Your idiot witness, don't realise he's rushed straight into the
Poh-lice department. |
SALO: |
You'll never take me alive! |
(KELLERMAN draws his weapon and points it at SALO.)
KELLERMAN: |
Come on. Just give it up and we can get all this sorted out. |
(Suddenly, SALO produces a Glock pistol from underneath his leather jacket and
points it at LEWIS. In the ensuing standoff, KELLERMAN's weapon is discharged and POLLOCK
falls to the ground, wounded in the upper right chest.)
JACQUES: |
Oh my God! They killed Craig! |
(There is a terrible silence.)
GIARDELLO: |
Gentlemen, just let's get this sorted out before Captain Gaffney
gets back. |
Scene 4 - A bar in Chicago.
DC: |
Sho, after that, I shaid to him, 'You really shouldn't have (hic)
driven sho fasht in all that rain!' hahahahahahah! |
BLONDE 1: |
Ooh! Hahahahahahah! |
DC: |
Letsh all have another likkle drinkie for the road, then? |
BLONDE 2: |
I really should be getting home. My sitter charges extra after 3am. |
DC: |
Jusht another drink, then we can all go home together - hahahahahaha
|
BLONDE 1: |
My apartment is just around the corner from here. |
BLONDE 2: |
Shall I take him to the restroom again? |
DC: |
If you would be sho kind, I thank you. |
BLONDE 1: |
So, do you come to Chicago often? |
Scene 5 - A bar in New York City.
(Soft piano music ripples through the exquisitely-dressed crowd as waiters scurry
back and forth with bottles of champagne. MICHAEL sits at a prominent table, pug dog at
his feet, and his wife - silk-clad and festooned with diamonds - sits opposite.)
MICHAEL: |
Is it chilled enough for you, my darling? |
MICHAEL: |
I'm so glad you saw sense over that small matter with Heinz-Harald. |
CORINNA: |
I'm so sorry, my love. I was just over-tired. |
MICHAEL: |
I understand. And just to prove it, here is a token of my love. |
(Just as he produces a small black velvet box from his inside coat pocket,
however, the bar is thrown into disarray as fifteen New York uniformed cops come charging
in.)
COP 1: |
NYPD! Everybody get down! Put your hands where we can see them!
Everybody down! |
(The women screaming, the men protesting, everyone complies. A short, fat
detective in a dirty trenchcoat and a tall, urbane Hispanic man in a well-cut suit come in
once the shouting has subsided.)
SIMONE: |
That's the guy, right? |
SIPOWICZ: |
Yeah, that's our scumbag, right enough. |
(The ill-matched pair come up to where MICHAEL is sitting, motionless, the only
man in the room not to have dived to the floor.)
SIPOWICZ: |
What's the matter with you, huh? You ain't such a cool guy after
all, with your fancy suits and your dia-monds? |
SIMONE: |
Mr Michael Schumacher? |
SIMONE: |
I'm placing you under arrest on suspicion of grand larceny,
extortion and attempting to bribe a public official. You do not have to say anything.... |
(As he completes the Miranda warning, MICHAEL shakes his head and CORINNA
faints.)
SIMONE: |
You're coming with us, sir. |
(He handcuffs MICHAEL).
MICHAEL: |
You're making a big mistake here. |
SIPOWICZ: |
You hear that, Bobby? You ever arrest a skel who didn't think we got
the wrong guy? |
SIMONE: |
Just come downtown with us, Mr Schumacher. |
Scene 6 - The coffee room of the 15th Squad Detective unit.
SIMONE: |
Can I offer you coffee? |
MICHAEL: |
No, thank you. I'd like to be able to help you gentlemen to resolve
this matter, but I think I'd like to see my lawyer before this goes any further. |
SIPOWICZ: |
You real sure you want a lawyer? |
MICHAEL: |
Quite sure, thank you. |
SIPOWICZ: |
You real sure you want a lawyer? Cos you know, after we call some
hot-shot lawyer, he gonna get down here and we, we gotta protect ourselves too, so we're
gonna get the DA in here. And before you know it, these legal eagles are arguing amongst
themselves, makin' a simple matter complicated, and you ain't got no chance to tell your
story like it really happened. |
SIMONE: |
This is the only chance you got to talk to us without all that
gettin' in the way of the truth. See, we're reasonable guys, maybe we can cut you a break.
|
MICHAEL: |
I'm sure that is true for most of the people you get in here, but I
would prefer to contact my lawyer, as I'm sure you realise. I don't want to impede your
investigation, but I do have the right to see my lawyer. |
SIPOWICZ: |
Yeah, and I got the *right* to stomp your lyin' ass if your hot-shot
lawyers come down here and it turns out you ain't tellin' us nothing cos you, see, you be
guilty as hell! |
MICHAEL: |
Are you threatening me? |
SIPOWICZ: |
Damn right I'm threatening you! See, some of the lowlife skels we
get in here, killin' their wives, abusin' their kids, stealin' for their dope, they ain't
got nuthin' on the crimes you done. |
MICHAEL: |
(still urbane) I haven't done anything. |
SIMONE: |
Right. So if you haven't done anything, you don't got anything to
fear by bein' straight with us, huh? |
MICHAEL: |
I would like to contact my lawyer. |
SIPOWICZ: |
You're not from the United States, are you? |
SIPOWICZ: |
So you not comin' from the United States an' all, maybe you ain't
aware of the penalty for international money-laundering and extortion over here? |
MICHAEL: |
I'm not concerned, since I haven't committed any such offence. |
SIPOWICZ: |
That's not what our witnesses say. We got witnesses from within your
organisation that can prove you been takin' used Goodyear tyres off low-rent, half-assed
teams lower down the scale and passin' them off as genuine Bridgestones? |
MICHAEL: |
(losing his cool for the first time) Who have you been talking to? |
SIMONE: |
Obviously we cannot reveal that sort of information, Mr Schumacher. |
SIPOWICZ: |
Well, you ain't revealin' anything to us, so why should we return
that compliment, huh? |
SIMONE: |
These are very serious charges, Mr Schumacher. If you really have
been running an international corrupt theft and racketeering organisation, like I said,
you gotta let us cut you some slack with the FBI. |
SIPOWICZ: |
Oh, yeah, that's the other thing. Tellin' you, you'd rather be
talkin' to us than to those guys. |
MICHAEL: |
(losing it) For God's sakes! Are you two idiots as incapable of
listening to the English language as you are of speaking it? I want a lawyer, I demand a
lawyer, and I will not speak to you or the FBI until I have talked to my lawyer! And when
I have talked to my lawyer, I am going to ensure that you two idiots never work again! |
SIMONE: |
Well, it's your decision, sir. |
SIPOWICZ: |
Hey, I'm gettin' out of here before I hang one of them two-bit tyres
round his damn neck and set fire to it. |
SIMONE: |
I'll arrange to have your legal representatives contacted. |
MICHAEL: |
Here's the card. |
(SIMONE and SIPOWICZ leave the coffee room.)
SIMONE: |
I gotta call a lawyer for this guy. |
SIPOWICZ: |
You reckon that broad in the fur coat who gave us this information
is on the level? |
SIPOWICZ: |
I dunno, I gotta bad feeling about this one. |
SIMONE: |
Ain't she married to that big-shot guy in the media? What would she
be hanging about our precinct for, causing trouble, if she wasn't on the level? |
SIPOWICZ: |
Beats the hell out of me. |
(They walk towards LIEUTENANT FANCY'S office.)
So will MICHAEL be charged in time to leave for Suzuka and compete? Who is his
mystery accuser (as if we didn't know). And what will be the outcome of the latest
police-involved shooting on Homicide? Hiccuping gently (like Mika and David) we leave you
to ponder their fate...
Normal (ie not ripped off from the entirety of American television) service will
be resumed after Suzuka.
If you enjoyed Maranello, you might be interested in checking out some books about the
various TV shows mercilessly abused and tortured in the production of this episode...
There are other, related books in the amazon.com database: why not search for them
direct from here?