Shock To The System

Don?

Don Strachey?

You must be Paul Hale.

Yeah.

Gotta tell you, Paul,

I usually meet new

clients in my office.

Sorry, I just...

I can't really be

seen going there.

Not now.

I don't know why we couldn't

have just done this

over the phone.

I like to meet

clients face-to-face,

that's how I know

they're legit.

Yeah.

Maybe you should tell me

what you're looking for?

I need help.

I need you to track

someone down for me.

Okay.

You can do that, right?

Sure.

But listen, you gotta keep

this totally secret.

Nobody can know

what you're doing.

Look, maybe you want to tell

me who you're looking for?

I need someone

I can trust.

Can I trust you?

Yeah, yeah, you can.

Look, there's a diner

around the corner,

why don't

we take a walk...

you and I

can just talk.

I can't be seen.

Here take it,

take it!

No!

No!

Stop!

Stop!

We don't have time.

I can think of a thousand

things I'd rather do

than go to this event.

We promised.

That was just

number three.

Wait 'til you see

number 6 and number 7.

We're going.

Both of us.

But I guess we could

be fashionably late.

Tell me about

number 7 again.

...and I say we take this

right to their doorsteps.

Camp out at city hall

until we get some answers.

Councilwoman Ferrani's

promised to follow

through with this.

We have to give her time.

Please, I want results,

not empty rhetoric.

Especially from someone

the gay community

helped put into office.

You agree with

me, don't you?

Do I?

No, you don't.

No, I don't,

I definitely do not.

Look at that,

evaporated.

Nice talking with you.

Likewise I'm sure.

You know darling, I love

you more than my luggage,

but sometimes I wish you

would at least pretend

to be interested in what's

going on in the world.

I am interested

in the world.

I just don't give a rat's

ass about politics.

Maybe that's because you

don't know enough about it.

Maybe it's because

it's boring?

Boring?

Honey, politics is the most

exciting cornerstone

of our civilization.

It requires a mastery

of many skills.

Psychology.

Persuasion.

Communication.

I communicate just fine.

Observe.

Barkeep, two martinis.

And just dab

the vermouth behind my ears.

Sometimes I swear

you'd be happier

spending the evenings

with a bullet-riddled corpse.

That's not true.

I also like dodging

speeding vehicles

in dark alleys

in the middle of the night.

And speaking of that,

have you heard

from your young

Mr. Hale today?

No, I called

and left a message,

but I haven't heard back-

hey! You hear that?

Every time a martini

shaker is shaken,

an angel gets his wings.

It's you, right?

You're the guy that was

in that advocate article,

the gay detective!

Sparky, right?

It's Strachey.

Donald Strachey.

And he's a private

investigator, actually.

How cool is that?

You're like the first gay

detective I've ever heard of

I mean, I know a

couple of gay firemen,

but a gay detective...

yeah, that's something.

Saved by the ring tone.

...uhm, Strachey,

yeah, okay.

You wanna tell me what

it's about, detective?

Un-huh.

Right now?

Okay, see ya,

in twenty minutes.

Let me guess.

Bullet riddled corpse?

Detective Bailey

says it's an emergency.

Sorry, honey.

Sparky the gay detective,

off to save the day.

Watch your step.

You always wear formal attire

to crime scenes, Strachey?

Trying to upgrade

my image.

Can I see him?

Paul Hale, sh*t.

You know him?

What happened?

He had a stroke.

A stroke?

He's barely

twenty years old.

He washed down a bottle

of xanax with bourbon.

Suicide?

So it appears.

I'll know for sure

after the autopsy.

You seen Bailey around?

You're the P.I.

You figure it out.

Detective, my

son was murdered.

Someone did

this to him.

Mrs. Hale,

we'll investigate--

"investigate"?

That coroner's already

made up her mind!

No, she hasn't.

Paul wouldn't kill himself

he wouldn't do that.

He did leave a note,

Mrs. Hale.

Detective Bailey.

Did you fall off a

wedding cake, Strachey?

Mrs. Hale, my name

is Donald Strachey,

I'm a private investigator.

I'm so sorry

about your son.

Thank you.

God, my baby!

Can we make

this quick.

Why did the deceased have

your card in his pocket?

That's between him

and me.

Was he a client

or boyfriend?

What does that mean?

I met him

last night.

What are you implying?

My son was not gay,

if that's what you mean.

Paul had been confused

for a while,

but he was

much better.

Dr. Cornell had

completely healed him.

Cornell?

He runs that clinic-?

Yes, the Phoenix Foundation

for a better life.

He's a brilliant man.

He turned Paul's

life around.

It appears Paul

Hale wasn't gay.

He was ex-gay.

"Gay reparative therapy".

Maybe you oughta give

it a shot, Strachey?

Awe and give up my

fantasies about you?

Never.

So what exactly

happened last night

between you and Paul Hale?

Not much.

We talked a little bit.

He hired me to

find somebody.

You gonna tell me who?

I don't know.

We didn't get that far.

Somebody tried

to run us over.

Probably just a disgruntled

ex-client of yours?

If it was an ex-client

of mine,

I'd be the dead

guy, don't you think?

Paul took off, and that's

the last I saw of him.

"I'm sorry, mom.

"It's just too

much to take.

"I love you, Paul."

Kids today, even the suicide

notes are high tech.

Come on, Bailey,

the kid hires a P.I.

And then kills himself?

Maybe you didn't

inspire much confidence.

What about his e-mails,

anything there?

No, and all the files

are wiped clean.

Evidently he didn't want

anyone going through his stuff

especially that mother

of his, is my guess.

You wiped the keyboard

for any other prints?

It's not a homicide.

Hale had a bunch of xanax

and a bunch of other pills

right next to him and he

washed it down with liquor.

It couldn't get much

clearer than that.

Let it go.

No.

Paul Hale gave me

a $5,000 retainer.

I think I'm gonna make sure

he gets his money's worth.

Don't move!

Don't shoot!

It's only me,

Kenny Kwon!

What're you doing trying

to break into my office,

break in?

Do I look like

a thief to you?

No.

You look familiar,

do I know you?

You should.

You got me fired

from my job.

At the Parmalee

Plaza Hotel?

You trashed the office

and beat up my boss.

Oh, yeah.

That was you?

You got canned for that?

Job sucked anyway.

Well, I only beat up

people that need it.

What're you doing here,

Kenny Kwon?

Resume.

I was slipping one

under your door.

I saw your ad in the paper

for a secretary

and I recognized

your name.

I figure you owe

me at least that.

I don't pay much.

My unemployment checks

run out next week.

I've had six secretaries

in three months.

They all quit

after a week.

With your sparkling

personality?

What a shocker.

And I prefer

"office manager".

Oh, my gosh.

Somebody broke in and

trashed the place!

Cute.

Strachey investigations,

Kenny Kwon, associate

investigator speaking,

how may I help you?

Hold please,

I'll see if he's in.

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