Cop Page #4

What you do mean by "chronological

consistencies and other factors"?

There are four dates of death

on the exact same day.

June 10th, two in the early '70s

and two in late '70s.

And of these,

two were listed as gunshot suicides.

Now, any cop with half a brain

should have known...

that women

almost never kill themselves with guns.

Is that it?

The last two murders

have been particularly brutal...

which makes me believe

he's close to exploding.

That means we've got to

start pushing him, sir.

And I can do that with a

dozen experienced homicide d*cks, full-time.

I want liaisons set up

with every other department in the country.

I need permission

to recruit uniformed officers...

for the sh*t work and authority to grant...

unlimited overtime,

and most important, sir...

we need a full-scale media blitz...

I haven't heard any hard, physical evidence.

You got any witnesses? Any notations

from detectives within our department...

or any department that lend credence

to your mass-murder theory?

No one's bothered to go over the files...

How many of these 16 investigations

are still open?

None. But that's the point.

Are there any other officers

within our department...

- who corroborate your hypothesis?

- No.

Other departments?

No.

Hopkins, I'm not gonna trust you on this.

Even though I must admit you're

a good detective with a good arrest record.

- Then what's the problem, sir?

- You know damn well what the problem is.

It's too old, too vague, too costly, and too

potentially embarrassing to the department.

- That's bullshit!

- Don't talk to me about bullshit, Hopkins.

Everyone knows you have a wild hair up

your ass about murdered women.

And if you really cared about God...

you'd first ask him to help you

with your personal life.

Hopkins, forget this thing.

Spend some time with your family.

I'm sure they'd appreciate it.

- Thank you for the advice, Captain.

- Hopkins.

If you go to the media, I'll crucify you.

I'll have you back in uniform, rousting

piss bums on Skid Row.

Two days. That's what you've got

to give me the help I need.

After that, you can get your f***ing

field reports on the 6:00 news, sir.

Sergeant?

What can I do for you, sir?

How long you been

with the Sheriff's department, Haines?

Nine years.

- How long at the West Hollywood station?

- Eight.

Still live on Larrabee?

That's right.

I'm surprised.

West Hollywood is a f*ggot sewer, isn't it?

I think a good cop should live on his beat.

So do I. What do your friends

call you? Delbert, Del?

Whitey. So, what is it?

What am I here for?

- Does your beat include Westbourne Drive?

- Yes, sir.

You've worked the same car plan

your whole time at the station?

Yeah, except for a loan-out to Vice.

- You ever work Narco?

- No.

No.

Coffee.

Just checking.

Basically, I'm here to check on some

homicides that took place a few years back.

You know, looking over the files,

I noticed you came across...

a stiff back in '78.

Wrist-slash job.

A woman on Westbourne.

Does that ring a bell?

Yeah, my partner and I got an unknown

trouble squawk from the desk.

Some old bag was complaining

about this stiff's radio blasting. So...

You found another suicide

in your own building the very next year.

That's right, isn't it, Whitey?

I sure did.

Matter of fact, I got messed up by the gas.

They had to detox me at the hospital.

But they gave me a commendation.

"Deputy of the Month. "

And they put my picture up in...

Both these women killed

themselves on June 10.

Doesn't that strike you

as a strange coincidence?

Maybe. Sh*t, I don't know.

Neither do I.

That's all, Haines.

You can go.

Whitey, you said

you wouldn't raise my nut, man.

Giving you six bills a month,

plus half the dope action...

plus kickbacks

from half the punks on the street. You said...

Don't tell me what the f*** I said.

...that's what I said. That takes money.

There's a transfer-happy new day watch...

Dutch, could you check with Internal Affairs

and see if...

Delbert W. Haines, badge 408, is under

investigation? He's a deputy sheriff.

Haines. Yeah, I'll hold.

Dave, can you get me a printout on all

monikers with Bird...

Birdie, Birdman, anything like that,

bring it to me right away? Thank you.

Dutch? Yeah, hi.

No investigation?

No surveillance?

Nothing on Haines? Okay, thanks.

I'll be there.

I just gotta go home and change...

I have to go

to a couple of feminist bookstores.

Don't ask. No, I'll be there.

Okay, Dutch, thanks a lot. Bye.

Don't you ever talk to me like a c*nt.

Would you open the door, please?

I'm Detective Sergeant Lloyd Hopkins

with the police department.

You with the Intelligence division?

No. Why?

The police has a long history of trying

to infiltrate causes they deem subversive.

My poetry has been published

in feminist periodicals...

that are highly critical of your department.

Also this...

You can breathe easy. I'm gonna

leave that to Intelligence, all right?

I'm here on a completely different matter.

May I come in please, Miss...

My name is Kathleen McCan'thy,

and I prefer Ms.

Ms. Okay. As long as you

promise not to call me a police person.

- Come in.

- Thank you.

I am here to investigate a murder

of a woman named Julia Lynn Niemeyer.

You wouldn't know her, would you?

No.

I have reason to believe

the killer is interested in poetry.

Possibly in this feminist poetry in particular.

What led me to this is, I found

a bloodstained book at the crime scene.

Rage in the Womb. Do you know the book?

Of course.

I'm sure it was her book.

She had this little feminist poetry section...

on her desk, and there was a space

where the book was missing. I'm sure he...

the killer, went through it.

And that makes you think

he's interested in feminist poetry?

That, and the fact that...

he sent a poem to her post office box

a few days after he killed her.

It was an original poem, and there was

a line in it that convinced me...

that he's killed before and will,

no doubt, kill again.

Look, Miss... Ms. McCan'thy...

I don't want to tell you the condition in

which I found the Niemeyer woman.

But I will tell you the poem

was written in human blood.

God.

His own, probably,

which gives you some idea...

of the kind of psychopath

we're dealing with.

What is it you want from me?

I need...

I need feedback on this Rage in the Womb.

What is it about? What kind of book is it?

I need to know if you've had

strange men in your store...

specifically men in their 30s...

buying feminist literature, acting angry,

or furtive, or in any way out of the ordinary.

Rage in the Womb is an angry book.

It's a polemic...

a broadside against many things,

violence perpetuated on women in specific.

I think I sold my last copy a month ago.

To a man or a woman?

I don't think I've ever sold a copy to a man.

Actually...

I don't think...

I've had a single man in his 30s in here.

Never.

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