Abattoir

Home.

They say once gone,

you can never return.

But what about those like me?

Born in the dust,

whose home was the road?

No family with whom to share.

Like my family,

taken from me

by those whom I'd deceived.

Tent and totem, I sold them a promise,

and in return they sold me themselves.

You see, orphans without a god

will open their doors

to whomever might knock.

Hammer and nail,

we build our heaven.

Room by room... our hell.

And so now we build.

What a magnificent structure

it will be.

- Look, if this is about my copy...

- It's terrific. You're the best I got.

You write like they wrote

back in the day.

Cigarettes, little brown hats. Things

that say:
"Scoop." No, I love your copy.

- So what's this about?

- Your copy.

Jesus, Chester!

I put you on a story about

rising mortgage rates.

You are a real estate writer, talben,

not woodward at the goddamn post.

What I need from you are numbers.

Re-fis, jumbos, rates.

What I don't need is color.

Black's a color. White's a color.

It's all there in black and white.

I'm just trying to make it interesting

for our three readers.

This thing reads

like a murder investigation.

- Then put me on crime.

- Doug's on crime. He's got scars.

You got ambition and perfect skin.

Still no pulitzer?

They don't give pulitzers for commercial

occupancy rate reports, detective.

You don't write, you don't call.

I'd be writing now if I didn't have

a talkative cop giving me grief.

Ok.

The least I can do,

after you ate all my breakfast cereal.

That was another lifetime.

- I seem to remember us both there.

- What are you doing here?

Eyewitness sketch for Doug. We're using

the press to flush out a suspect.

How's Charlie doing? Any improvement?

Working on it.

We should catch up.

Coffee? Bourbon?

Raincheck me.

I have dinner at Amanda's house tonight.

The sister who overcooks the vegetables.

Tsk.

See you later.

- There he is.

- Oh, you're home!

Oh, no place I'd rather be.

- Hey-

- hey-

dinner's almost ready.

Wanna go wash his hands?

- Sure. Come on, soldier.

- Yes, sir.

- Any response on the story yet?

- Nothing fit to print.

I might have a lead. I got a call from

this adoption agency in the northeast.

The administrator read Charlie's story.

Any luck on the donor list?

Mom's our only hope.

Who abandons their children?

We're gonna find her.

Even if she doesn't wanna be found.

Charlie will be ok.

I promise.

Ok. Close your eyes.

Hands out.

- Are you peeking?

- No, I'm not.

Ok. Here.

- But mom and dad won't let me.

- That's why it's gotta be our secret.

Hey, look at me.

I'm not gonna let anything

happen to you.

I promise. Ok?

Lipstick on the collar is one thing.

But the ink on your fingertips

wasn't all that different.

The paper doesn't let its reporters

get engaged to cops,

especially with a history

as complicated as ours.

It's a f***-all conflict of interest.

I have a husband and a six-year-old.

They conflict

with every interest I have.

- Are you two gossiping?

- She's brooding.

- L'm sulking. It's a whole new thing.

- About what?

I'm ankle deep, and I'm going nowhere.

- Doug has crime. I've got nothing.

- That's not true.

You have us. Your family.

Ambition. Your tenacity.

You got your hopes and dreams.

Hell, I'd kill to have

my hope and dream back.

Go start the laundry.

I swear I feel like

i have two children sometimes.

That's why I'm not married.

Are you following me, detective?

Stakeout.

Following a person of interest.

Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know.

I shouldn't be here, but...

...l didn't care.

- You're right. You shouldn't be here.

- And I don't care.

Old habits die hard.

I need time, and you need to heal.

You need to stop blaming yourself.

You know, what happened...

It can't...

Couldn't have been prevented.

I sped it along.

Julia, her and I were through

before there ever was a you and me.

Aargh!

- Charlie?

- Help me! Get off me!

Charlie?

No! No!

There's a call for you. Line two.

The guy says it's urgent.

Ok. Kyle, I'm gonna have

to call you back in five.

- This is Julia.

- Miss talben?

Who is this?

I'm afraid

I've have done something terrible.

- I'm sorry?

- So am I.

Gravely.

To whom am I speaking?

I'm the man

who just killed your sister.

Amanda! She's not answering.

Amanda!

Jules, wait.

Amanda?

- Charlie?!

- Jules, do not go up those stairs.

Sh*t. What the f*** did you do?

Only what I had to.

Oh, no.

Amanda? Amanda?

Charlie?!

No...

- Get down! Get down! Don't you move!

- No...

You f***! Do not move!

- Jules?!

- ' No!

Moving up!

They were a beautiful family.

You're all that I have left.

You know the same is true for me, right?

Come on. I'm driving.

You should eat something.

Why don't we stop at castles?

Get some of that pecan pie you like.

- I wanna go to Renshaw's.

- Whoa, whoa, absolutely not.

The last thing I wanna do

is bring more crazy into your life.

Ok.

I put my sister and her kid

in the ground today.

I need the why.

Renshaw is bat sh*t.

Guys like that don't give exposition.

No prize, no motive, no connection.

- The bank sold the house?

- You said they were drowning in debt.

I didn't say "drowning."

I said they had bills.

Charlie's treatment is expensive.

Was expensive.

- They didn't own the house.

- The house owned them.

It's been less than a week.

You can't get through escrow that fast.

Not to mention appraisal,

inspection, title, hud-1 form.

It's just not possible.

Right. A real estate journalist.

Something doesn't feel right.

Huh?

Ls somebody in the house?

It sounds like

it's coming from Charlie's room.

Grady?

Oh, you've gotta be kidding me.

Goddammit.

Ok, ok. I know I owe you a call.

Who the f*** buys a house, and cuts

the entire crime scene out of it?

How is that legal?

How do you close escrow in five days?

Give me the buyer.

Give me the information, Kyle.

Or I will have consumer affairs

so far up your ass,

they'll be brushing your teeth.

A po box in town?

You need to start talking.

Charlie's room is ripped

out of the goddamn house.

You coming in here

talking about rooms being taken,

that's like saying MacBeth

to a Broadway actor.

You're gonna tell me a fairytale?

"Once upon a time"?

Realtors are glengarry guys.

You don't have myths.

Right when I started,

i caught this lead.

Some high rise downtown.

Only hitch was

that it was slightly infamous.

Seems some husband went sideways

on his wife with a kitchen implement.

Ohh!

It was a crime scene?

Oh, he made it one,

that's for damn sure.

Unsellable, right?

Two days later I'm closing escrow

with a guy old enough

to be my great-great-grandfather.

Less than a week later,

the old guy, he flips for a loss.

- One renovation.

- The kill room is ripped out.

Whole f***ing room, gone.

Now, you tell this tale,

you hear two more just like it.

And the end of this fairytale

is always the same.

Never heard from the buyer again.

I'd like to keep it that way.

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