Sea of Love Page #2

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- Forest Hills?

I heard you caught a good one.

Face-down taxpayer,

back of the head in his own bed?

Me, too, on Yellowstone Blvd.

- No sh*t?

- The bullet, we can't do nothing with it.

It got pancaked on the bed frame.

We got cigarette butts

with lipstick on them.

- We didn't get any butts.

- Get any prints?

Yeah, nothing showed up

on the files, though.

Let's compare tomorrow.

Dewars, double Dewars on the rocks.

Budweiser.

You know something?

You talk lipstick.

I think my guy got done by a broad.

How's that?

We're talking

a four-star ladies' man here, okay?

You play, you pay. Am I right?

My wedding night, I wake up...

my wife's got the tattoo needle,

the eyeshades.

I look down,

I've got "property of" on my balls.

I'm only kidding,

but catch my drift?

This guy, I found 30 letters...

from the singles magazine

he placed an ad in.

He didn't even get around

to opening them.

You find any records there?

What do you mean, like files?

Records, like old records, 45s.

One was playing on the turntable

when they found him: Sea of Love.

Remember that one?

Sea of Love? Jesus.

Come with me, my love

to the sea

the sea of love

I want to tell you

how much I love you

Do you remember

when we met?

That's the day

I knew you were my pet

I wanna tell you

how much I love you

Something's got to come off.

That's it?

No, you gotta take something off.

Come on, take it off!

I just met this guy.

Actually, I admire this woman...

whoever she is, for her directness.

I mean,

the guy fucks around on her...

falls asleep, whatever.

Bingo!

Pop him in the head, it's over.

Other women, like my ex-wife Denise,

for example...

you step out of line a little,

she'd like to stick it here...

stick it there,

let you walk around bleeding.

This one, bingo! No muss, no fuss.

Evelyn Woods School

of Speed Revenge.

No walking wounded.

F***in' women!

Hey, Grube,

let me ask you something.

Your wife, does she

ever like to stick it to you?

What are you trying to say?

You're a happily married man.

Maybe Gruber's too busy

sticking it into her...

to notice when

she's sticking it into him.

Break it up!

Guys, come on, break it up!

Are you okay?

Come on. He's crazy. Let's go.

F*** it.

"Silver balloons

"A lifetime of Junes

"Old rock tunes"

Who the hell are you?

Wait a minute.

What's my name?

This isn't funny.

I said, what's my name?

Jim Mackey.

So you answered his ad

in the New York Weekly?

I don't know why I'm crying.

I never even got to meet him.

It's just so sad, somebody dying.

So you wrote him, or you called him?

I wrote him...

and then he called me.

Fate sucks, I swear.

Gina...

maybe you'd feel better...

if you took those balloons off.

They're the only things

keeping me up.

Frank.

The lieutenant said I could

go through the jacket on your case.

Guess what? The prints match.

The same doer. Ain't that grand?

Well, I got one for you, my man.

Your guy put an ad

in a singles magazine, right?

New York Weekly.

Bingo to that.

My guy's in there, too.

"Silver balloons, endless Junes,

Old rock tunes

"Let me put it in your moon"

Wire Paladin. Something like that.

You want to hear my guy?

"City streets beneath my feet

"4:
00 a.m., the longest hour

"The hunt goes on

till the break of dawn

"for love, the rarest flower"

This lady, she's in the crosshairs.

Poetry lover.

More like she hates it,

you know what I mean?

Listen,

I had my lieu talk to your lieu...

and me and you,

a two-man task force on this.

What do you think?

- Queens or here?

- Are you f***ing kidding me?

I'd kill to work in Manhattan.

You want to work in Queens?

Let me introduce you.

Let me catch them tomorrow.

I gotta split.

I got a tuxedo fitting in an hour.

Tuxedo? You got a lounge act?

My daughter's getting married Sunday

out on the Island.

You like weddings?

Get out of here!

Want to dance

with a couple of bridesmaids?

Want to know how we catch her?

We put in our own ad.

Say what?

New York Weekly magazine.

We put our own ad in.

A hundred guys

place ads in there a month.

They get 30 to 50 responses each.

That's 4,000 or 5,000 women.

What are we gonna do?

Go out with 5,000 women? Hell, no.

We know the broad

is into rhyming ads, right?

So we put in a rhyming ad.

"Moon, June, spoon, sand dune."

We set up dates with 30, 40, 50

of the ladies who answer.

We take them out,

some restaurant, some bar...

get their prints on a wineglass.

Bingo! She's dropped.

I love it.

That's horseshit, but I love it.

Do you know how many guys

placed ads last month that rhymed?

Three.

She went out with two of them.

Sh*t!

I can't believe we haven't

chased down that third guy.

Raymond Brown,

I tracked him through his post-box.

- What are you, a f***ing cop?

- Sometimes.

Gruber.

I'll catch up with you.

How you doing?

This 20-year thing,

it's kicking my ass.

I'm sorry.

"Raymond Brown,

Downtown Brown."

Here we go.

"Loneliness and silence

"Envelop a heart

that pounds like thunder

"All the love I have inside

"Is ripping me asunder

"The city is a jungle of pain

"But my love is from the soul"

"So be so kind

as to answer this ad

"And you can ride on my pole"

Give the guy a break.

This is a major lonely heart.

Major?

Good afternoon,

I'm Detective Frank Keller.

This is Detective Sherman Touhey.

Does a Raymond Brown live here?

Daddy!

What's the matter?

They're cops.

What's up, fellas?

What's wrong?

Relax.

Are you all right?

I want to tell you something.

I love my family.

Raymond, no kidding.

We don't give a sh*t.

All we need are the names of those

you went out with and their letters.

I don't have letters.

Raymond, there's some

psycho woman out there killing guys.

I swear,

I didn't go out with any of them.

I threw them away.

I didn't have the heart to do it.

Raymond, you take the time...

to make up this beautiful poem...

about loneliness and silence.

You spring $300

to put the ad in the magazine.

You spring another $500 a month

for some love nest in the Village...

$50 for the post office box...

and you're trying to tell us

you never went out with any of them?

Raymond, please.

You know what the worst part

of being a cop is?

Eight hours a day,

all you hear from people are lies.

"I didn't do it. I wasn't there.

It was somebody else.

"Blah this. Blah that."

I swear on the eyes of my children.

Miss Wrong, we got her.

Upstairs gives us $300

to put the ad in the magazine...

we spring for a few vinos,

a chef's salad or two...

bag the wine glasses, it's all over.

What? Come on.

"What? Come on?"

Suppose I pull out $300 of my own

money, buy the ad myself...

we drop her, you pay me back

like a personal bet?

This thing's gonna work.

If you want me to, I'll set you up

with my sister-in-law.

She's got great tits,

divorced, no kids, no cats.

Lieu's sister-in-law sounds great.

"I swear

on the eyes of my children."

We should've tailed him.

We f***ed up.

He f***ed up.

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