Righteous Kill Page #3

at any moment.

Think of me

as the release valve.

One flick of the trigger

and the pressure goes down.

You know why

you join the force?

To get respect.

Most people respect the badge.

Everybody respects the gun.

Hey, Riley, l was talking to JD--

you guys caught a stiff named

Phillip Trager, a gun-runner?

Oh, yeah, a real piece of sh*t.

- How did that go down?

- l don't know.

Somebody gave him a taste

of his own medicine, l guess,

walked right into his apartment,

killed him with one of his own guns.

Did the shooter leave a note

or anything?

Yeah, actually,

the shooter left a poem.

He did?

No sh*t.

Yeah. Hey, Simon,

you remember that poem

from the Trager case?

What are you doing, man?

Turk's asking about it.

What the hell are you doing?

Que mierda 'tas haciendo ahi, papa?

No le digas mierda a eso loco.

Calmate. He wants to hear

about the poem.

''Merchant of thieving class,

l slit his throat

and capped his ass.

l took his gun, l took his--

l took his life, l took his gun,

But too bad he's not the only one.''

That's how it goes,

something like that.

lt's not iambic pentameter,

but it rhymes.

- Rooster.

- Yo.

We're looking for the same guy.

He knocked off a pimp named Rambo

a few weeks ago. When was yours?

Last week. We're running ours with the ATF

because of the guns.

We're back in business on the Rambo case.

Looks like the same guy knocked off

- a gun dealer on the three-three last week.

- No sh*t.

- What do you mean? That's our case.

- That's our case. You're taking our case.

Seniority, guys.

Tag along, you'll learn something.

Oh, tell me the guy's name

is Greg Brady.

Please. lt is, isn't it?

Oh, somebody's knocking off

the Brady Bunch.

Gotta be the Partridge Family.

Trager,

a gun-runner bites the dust--

number 11.

The bullet matched the .45

in Trager's apartment.

That was no surprise.

So l ran it through ATF.

lt's one of a batch of six

that was stolen from a gun shop

- in Virginia last month.

- Yeah, probably by Trager.

That's what they think.

He matches the description they have.

lt still doesn't help us find the guy.

lt just helps us tie him to the victims,

which he's already doing

with his little f***ing poems.

Excuse me. Hello.

Hey, Turk, don't forget

we got a court date later.

So...

l heard he kicked the sh*t

out of that dealer you guys took down.

Spider.

So?

Did he?

Yeah, he got him

down on the ground.

The guy was handcuffed.

And he just started

kicking him in the gut.

And then

he gets down on the guy's chest

and he really starts smacking him

hard in the face over and over

and screaming at the top

of his lungs,

''l'm gonna break

your f***ing face,

you little b*tch!''

Then his eyes really started

to fill up.

l mean, they get dark--

you know how he gets

the sort of rage in him.

l thought he was gonna

kill this guy.

Really?

You're a bad little girl.

Hmm?

- l got work to do.

- You bet.

Counselor,

my hands are tied here.

Without a secure

chain of custody,

any evidence obtained

after the initial search

- must be excluded.

- You gotta be f***ing kidding me.

Therefore l am forced

to grant defense

motion to dismiss

all charges

of rape and assault

against Mr. Van Luytens.

- Your Honor.

- You think l want this guy

going anywhere

near my daughter,

or anyone's daughter

for that matter?

You messed up.

l am unleashing your client

unto the world.

l'm sure we'll all be

back here again very soon.

Look at him.

Look at this motherf***er.

Hey, it's gonna come back to you, mutt.

You're gonna get it.

- When you walk outside watch your back.

- Easy, Turk.

Order in my court.

- Okay, mutt? You f***ing mutt.

- Not here, not now.

Not here, not now.

Will you get him out of here

before somebody passes a sentence

on him you can't appeal?

Order!

- You know what l mean? Go go.

- Order, Detective.

Dr. Prosky suggested

that l free-associate.

So here l go.

You know what l think about

when l pull a trigger?

l think about the lnfield Fly Rule.

l love that f***ing rule.

lt assumes the worst in everybody.

lt says, ''Sorry, batter, you're a schmuck

for popping up with runners on.

And you, stupid-ass infielder,

you don't get to cheat

and drop the ball just because

you caught a break.''

My favorite part--

the batter's out

but the runners advance

at their own risk.

Well, isn't this

a pleasant surprise?

That's the way

life should be.

You can be a motherf***er

at your own risk.

Or not.

Van Luytens-- one less rapist.

Who's gonna miss him?

Nobody.

Number 1 2 and counting.

Whoa whoa, hot coffee.

- Good morning, Detective Riley.

- Hey, good morning.

- Door on your left.

- Any signs of forced entry?

Doesn't look like it.

Detective Perez is in there.

He's in there already?

All right.

- Hey, how about those Mets last night?

- Yeah, how about 'em?

Hey, Teddy, Teddy, come here,

check this out.

Wow.

F***.

- Oh my God.

- That's big.

And powerful.

- What, a plasma screen?

- LCD.

- That's plasma.

- No, it's got to be LCD.

- lt wouldn't be that big.

- Hey, guys, guys.

He was shot at close range,

dropped right here.

The p*ssy doesn't look like he put up

much of a fight, does he, Karen?

Nothing to indicate that

in terms of struggle.

No forced entry, cuts, bruises.

Hey, nobody wants to hear

about your private life, Officer Corelli.

That's detective to you,

Officer Needledick.

- Ooh.

- Ouch.

- Looks like it's our guy again.

- Who did you get this time?

This is Jonathan Van Luytens.

He owns a couple

of car dealerships.

- Oh, sh*t.

- He was up on rape charges,

but they got tossed out

last week.

Look at this.

''A man devoid of all respect,

Of beauty, charm or intellect,

He took what women

would not give.

He didn't have

the right to live.''

That's our boy all right.

Looks like he had a beef

with our old pal Jonny.

You know him?

Yeah.

He's one slippery

son of a b*tch, let me tell you.

Yeah.

You guys know how much

fun it is to not catch a serial killer?

You got a point here, Lieutenant?

The point is

you'd better both

think seriously

about whether or not

you want the lead on this case.

You don't think

we're up to this?

Come on, you got what,

about 110 years on the job

between the two of you?

l'm telling you, you screw it up

badly enough,

they may try to f*** you

out of your pension.

You want to risk that?

- Yeah.

- F***, yeah.

Okay, 406--

what does that mean?

Ted Williams.

Ted Williams, the last day of the season,

is batting 400.

Sox manager wants to bench him,

protect his average, right?

Williams plays

both games anyway,

goes six for eight,

ends up at 406--

the last guy that ever hit

over 400.

Okay, fine. lt's all yours.

Just don't go moaning to me

when some traffic cop

pulls your serial killer over

for speeding

and he grabs your

the a**hole could have been

standing right there in front of you

and it would have taken you

Not for nothing, Lieutenant,

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