Miami Blues Page #4

I think you better | cough up...

some "do-re-mi" right now.

500 bucks. Let's have it.

What 500 bucks?

What are you | talking about?

-F*** off! | -F*** off?!

You go to Pablo...

you cut yourself in | on my action.

You don't think | I'm coming after you?

Jesus Christ! | You got a lot of balls!

And Pablo wants the hooker | back on the job...

tomorrow at 10:
00, | and all is forgiven, Gums.

What hooker?

10:
00.

He got your gun | and your badge...

and your teeth.

You are a disgrace | to the police force.

F***in' | Junior "Bullshit" Gotlieb.

Hey, you got | a piece, Eddie?

Teeth?

No. A gun. I need it.

Hold on.

Hair trigger.

Hollow points.

Thanks, Eddie.

Right in here.

Where's Antonio?

On your feet, pal.

Turn around.

Move it.

Police raid! | Everybody freeze!

Run for it!

Yo! Hey, guys!

Come on back. | Where are you goin'?

Come on. | I got this covered!

At ease, officer.

I think you'd better | check with your superiors.

Remain silent.

Hey, I pay good money | to the right people, huh?

Were you out | at the airport today?

Was I out | at the airport today?

What, are you crazy?

You ever stood | in a line-up before?

Oh, yeah. I stood in | a line-up before.

OK. I want you to | line up there!

Hey, what the hell's | going on here?

Shut up!

You own a suede | sports coat?

Courtesy van?

You ain't no cop.

Oh, I'm a cop.

Prove it, slick. | You're not walking...

You crazy son of a b*tch!

I'll kick the living sh*t...

Take it easy, Scanlan.

Hey.

Hey, Smiley. | How are you?

Ellita Sanchez?

Hoke Moseley.

I've been calling you.

Don't they have someone | at that desk to answer?

Yeah...but he's deaf. | Got something?

Prints I.D. | on those beer bottles.

That's the son of a b*tch!

"Frederick J. Frenger, | Junior."

Junior Gotlieb. | I knew that was bullshit.

I got something | on the real Gotlieb.

Mugged. D.O.A...

at the San Francisco | Airport Hospital.

That sound | like Junior's M.O.?

Murder one.

We can nail him as the | Krishna finger killer, I bet.

He's grown up behind bars.

And look at this.

Someone charged | a suede sport coat...

on the real Gotlieb's | credit card...

after he was dead.

We got the motherf***er!

Thanks.

I'm sorry. Habit.

I ran his real name | by the utilities...

but I turned up nothing.

He wouldn't use | his real name.

Well, if he did...

we'd be knocking | on his door right now.

What about Waggoner?

I called every utility | in Dade.

Even bottled water.

I'm sitting here | having my lunch...

waiting for | a call back, OK?

Sitting on your lunch?

Try Broward.

Look, I know you think | I'm a weak suck...

but I don't care.

The guy who did this | to me...this Frenger...

Junior...he's got | my old badge, Sanchez.

He's running around | playing cop...

assaulting | and beating people.

I'm doing everything | I can to help.

Call me if you | hear anything.

Put the funny book down!

Give me the f***in' cash...

or I'll blow | your f***in' head off!

No, don't count it, | Goddamn it!

Police!

Drop the gun, son.

I know what it's like...

to be on the other end | of that gun.

You're making | a big mistake.

I tell you what...

you put down the gun, | give back the money...

and I'll let you | walk on out of here.

You walk out that door...

your life is | gonna change forever.

Hold your fire, | you a**hole!

What the f***?!

Hey.

Hey, you OK?

Hey, mister.

Get this thing off me. | I'm a cop.

I think I hit him.

You didn't hit sh*t.

Where is | the whipping cream?

We're out.

Oh, my God.

OK, I want you to do | something for me.

Go get me some | cotton balls...aah!

Some peroxide...

some bandages...

and bring me | a small mirror.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

Oh, f*** me.

I want you to go | and get me...

your smallest needle... | a small needle...

and thread it | with black thread, OK?

Here. I got it.

Oh, f***. Oh, God.

OK. Now... | I tell you what.

I want you to sew | my eyebrow back on.

Hey, hey! | Now, come on, come on.

Come on. | You're gonna be OK.

I got it.

I'm sorry. | I'm no good at this.

I got it.

What? OK.

I got you.

I'm going to | get you a doctor.

Oh, no. No doctors.

I want you to get me | a bottle of gin.

I nursed my husband for | 3 years before he died...

but you're not | going to die.

Here.

It's gin, Junior.

Drink it.

We're going to need this.

This is going to hurt.

You move, and you're | a blind man. Scissors.

Hold it. Hold it.

You're doing real good, | Junior.

I'm just gonna | move down a bit.

Now we just have one more.

Just hold on.

That'll hold you.

Your husband must have | been glad to die.

Thank you.

Yeah, thanks.

You got a real nice | touch there, lady.

So...are you going to | tell me about it?

Yeah, I'll tell you | about it.

This straight life | that we've been living...

has been giving me this | misplaced sense of security!

I thought for | one minute there...

I was some kind of f***in' | solid citizen or something.

All I want to know | is what happened to you.

Some guy in a blue | Toyota pickup ran me over.

I thought it must have been | something like that.

An anonymous, apparently | off-duty, police officer...

interrupted | a robbery tonight...

at a Coral Gables | convenience store...

heroically confronting | an armed robber...

with only bottles | of spaghetti sauce.

Yeah?

Ellita Sanchez.

Come in.

What's this?

Susan Waggoner. | Telephone order.

There's an address | in the Gables.

The Gables.

What time is it?

It's 1:
00. I was | going out on a date.

I've got a relative | with Southern Bell...

or we wouldn't have gotten | the number for days.

That's great. Thanks.

What are you | going to do?

I'm going to | check it out.

Sanchez...

thanks.

You feeling better?

What would you like | for breakfast?

You're not hungry?

Well, I'm just | gonna run some errands...

and then I'll be back.

I love you.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Hey. Susan, uh... | Waggoner, right?

Remember me?

No, sir.

Hoke "Pork Chops" Moseley.

God, what | happened to you?

Ah, some psycho | jumped me...

almost broke my neck...

stole my gun, my badge, | and my teeth.

Teeth?

Yeah. These are temps.

Hey, I got | something for you.

Do you do your | marketing here?

Excuse me, would you | like to try some sausage?

No, thank you.

Are you sure? | It's really good.

Remember that...

pork chop recipe | I promised you...

with the chestnut batter?

Glad I ran into you.

Oh, this is great.

I can't believe | you remembered.

That is so nice of you.

I'm gonna | put it on my list...

and I'm gonna | make it tonight.

Hey, is that | an invitation?

I'll be there.

Oh.

I got class tonight. | I'm sorry.

You're still | with that guy, huh?

No. Umm... | I kicked him out.

Well, good for you.

You know | who he really is?

He's a murderer.

Herman Gotlieb | isn't even his real name.

He spent his life in prison.

Frederick J. Frenger, | Junior.

Junior.

Hate to run into Senior.

Oh...

hey, you ever made | vinegar pie?

Vinegar pie? | My mother used to make it.

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