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#411 : Meurtre à la morgue


 Titre original : "Murder in the Rue Morgue

Claudia Simpson, employée d'une morgue de la ville, demande à ses collègues de venir l'aider à identifier le corps qui repose sur sa table d'autopsie. Soudain, un homme armé fait irruption, ouvrant le feu sur toutes les personnes présentes à la morgue. Claudia Simpson est tuée, tout comme ses collègues. Garret et Jordan sont envoyés sur place, pour procéder aux examens d'usage. Garret demande à connaître le nombre et l'identité des défunts admis à la morgue au cours des dernières 24 heures. Il cherche en fait à identifier le cadavre qui intriguait tant Claudia Simpson, certain, s'il le retrouve, de tenir un premier élément de réponse à la fusillade...


5 - 1 vote


Jordan & Woody

Jordan & Woody


Plus de détails

***ME's Office***

(Woody is entering the elevator)

Jordan: Hey, hold the elevator! Whoa!

Woody: Oh, no, no, no.

Jordan: Good morning to you, too, Woody.

Woody: I'll take the next car.

Jordan: Oh, don't be ridiculous!

Woody: I refuse to be an accessory, Jordan.

Jordan: Look, I won't do it, okay?

Woody: You do it every time we ride in an elevator together.

Jordan: Not every time. But, you know, a nice, warm, caffeinated beverage might actually talk me out of it.

Woody: It's a double caramel latte with extra caramel.

(Woody hands over the coffee to Jordan and a man enters the elevator)

Jordan: Blood was coming from everywhere, man. I swear, it was spurting out of this guy. Out of his ears, his mouth, his eyes! Clothes were drenched too. The floor, I swear, it was like the red sea. You're not gonna believe this. Excuse me, sir. Hi, this is your floor.

Man: Oh, yes, so it seems.

Jordan: So what actually happened was he cut on-- whew!

Woody: I gave you my coffee, Jordan.

Jordan: I told you it might talk me out of it.  I'm telling you, that never gets old.

Woody: Speak for yourself.

Jordan: Hey, Lily, what's up? You get demoted, hang up your grief counselor's stripes?

Lily: Emmy's out sick. So Garret asked me to come in.

Jordan: Well, you're bigger person than I, giving up a day off.

Lily: Which means I have no life. Something came in for you. Hold on.

Claudia: Excuse me... Hi, I'm Claudia Simpson. I was asked to come down and identify a body.

Jordan: Oh, she can actually help you.

Lily: Hi. I'm Lily. What was the name of the decedent?

Claudia: Uh, honestly, I don't know.

Lily: Okay, uh, why don't you fill this out?

Man: Claudia.

Claudia: Yes?

Man: I knew you'd come!

(The man pulls out a gun and shoots Claudia with at least four shots before the security guards grabs at his arm. Jordan and Lily both have blood splatter on them. They duck for cover behind the reception desk just as the shooter flees through a fire alarm door.)

Jordan: Are you all right? Lily! Lily! Are you all right?

Woody: Jordan, what the--

Jordan: He went out the emergency exit!

Woody: Are you--

Jordan: Yes, yes, go!

(Lily appears as if she is in shock. Jordan heads over to Claudia and slaps her face and checks her pulse but there is no response.)

Lily: Oh, my god. Oh, my god! Oh, my god! Oh, my god. Oh, my god.

{Crossing Jordan Intro}

Garret: Yes, Mr. Mayor, at this point, it seems to be an isolated incident.

Woody: I lost him in the garage. If he parked there, maybe we can get a hit on his car.

Nigel: I've already got security pulling the surveillance videos.

Woody: Jordan, did you get a good look at him?

Jordan: Yeah, he was about eight inches long and made of steel.

Woody: How about you, Lily? Lily? (Lily is staring at Claudia's body) Lily.

Lily: Uh, no he was behind me.

Woody: Well, according to her card, Claudia Simpson was a travel agent. Did she say who she was here to see?

Jordan: It was weird. She didn't really seem to know.

Bug: I, uh, dug this out of the wall. It's a nine-millimeter lead alloy.

Jordan: It looked like a Beretta, but, you know, it happened so fast.

Bug: Oh, I'll need to open this, if that's okay.

Jordan: Yeah, sure, it's just a birthday gift from my dad.

Lily: Oh, my god. I was holding that.

Bug: You're a lucky lady.

Garret: All transports are being rerouted to the nearest hospital until we have this under control.

Woody: I'll go find out what I can about this Claudia Simpson.

Garret: Nigel, Bug, let's pull the intake files for the last 24 hours. If we can figure out who our victim was here to see, it may tell us why she was killed.

Nigel: Okay.

Garret: Jordan, maybe you should—

Jordan: Yeah. Come on, Lily. Let's go get some scrubs, huh?

Lily: Jordan?

Jordan: Yeah?

Lily: Did you think we were gonna die?

Jordan: Not a chance.

Lily: I kept thinking that if I had been a few inches to my left or if his aim was off—

Jordan: Lily... look, you're fine. We both are.

Jordan: Hey, Nige, where we at?

Nigel: 35 corpses have come in within the last 24 hours. None with the last name of Simpson. All but 13 have been identified by family members and friends. Give us a hand with this, will you? So we're going over each, one by one, just to see if there's anything that connects back to our victim.

Jordan: Like finding a needle in a haystack.

Nigel: Got a better idea?

Jordan: Hey, there a method to this madness?

Garret: Think of it as triage. We prioritize the bodies starting with the most suspicious deaths.

Bug: And this girl is next. Anonymous 911 caller saw her body dumped near the Lowell Street on ramp.

Jordan: Could be Claudia Simpson is her mother. Hey, Garret, what do you got?

Garret: 30-something John Doe found in an alley. Two gunshot wounds to the chest. Wallet missing. Probable robbery.

Jordan: Okay, rigor hasn't set in. She's only been dead a few hours.

Bug: Petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes.

Jordan: Ah, there's bruising around the mouth. Looks like asphyxiation. Bug, do you smell that?

Bug: Hmm. Like strawberries.

Jordan: Maybe lip gloss?

(Garret pulls a bullet from the John Doe)

Garret: Nigel, run this through ballistics database, will you?

Bug: Oh, I, uh, put that gift for your dad back in your office. I'm afraid the sweater didn't survive the shooting.

Jordan: It doesn't matter. I don't know where to send it, anyway.

Nigel: If you want to find Max, I know an ace PI.

Jordan: You know what? He wants his space. Who am I to force the issue? Wow, whatever this stuff is, it sure leaves a good print.

Nigel: Whoa, Nelly!

Garret: What is it?

Nigel: The bullet that killed John Doe came from the same gun that killed Claudia Simpson.

Jordan: Looks like we found our needle.

Bug: So you think this is the guy that Claudia Simpson came to ID?

Garret: Let's ID him and find out.

***Simpson Travel Agency***

Woody: Has anyone died recently? Any friends, any relatives?

Mr. Simpson: No. 

Woody: Tell me, do you recognize this guy? (Woody shows the man a surveillance picture of the shooter.)

Mr. Simpson: Who is he?

Woody: We're still working on that one. Did you sister have any enemies to speak of? Any business dealings that went sour?

Mr. Simpson: Not that I can think of.

Woody: Now... I'm about to show you a picture. Does he look familiar? (Woody shows the man a picture of the John Doe.)

Mr. Simpson: No. Who's he?

Woody: We're still working on that one too. He was shot and killed by the same gun that killed your sister.

Mr. Simpson: The only thing I can think of... is maybe she got involved with the wrong guy. I mean, I love Claudia, but she had terrible judgment when it came to men.

Woody: Was she seeing someone new?

Mr. Simpson: We didn't, uh, talk about her love life because she knew I didn't approve.

Woody: Thank you very much, Mr. Simpson. I'm so sorry for your loss.

***ME's Office***

Lily: (Gasps) Detective.

Seely: Somebody's a little jumpy.

Lily: Yeah, well, it's been a rough day.

Seely: So I heard. You okay?

Lily: If I don't find some aspirin soon, my head is gonna explode. Oh!

Seely: Ah, we wouldn't want that.

Lily: What are you--

Seely: Acupressure. It works like a charm. Close your eyes. 

Lily: (Sighs) Are you here about the shooting?

Seely: High-profile homicide right under my nose, and they got me transferring evidence from some lame arson case. How's that feel?

Lily: You've got a nice touch.

Seely: Well, if you're free later tonight, I can promise more where this came from.

Lily: You know, Detective, every time I think there's something going on under that jerky veneer of yours, you go and do something totally insensitive.

Seely: That was insensitive?

Bug: Dr. Macy. I've got good news, bad news. And really bad news.

Garret: Okay, hit me with the good.

Bug: Well, we ID’d our John Doe. His name is David Royter. Age 35, lived in Malden.

Garret: What's the bad news?

Bug: He was a registered sex offender.

Garret: What was he convicted of?

Bug: Assaulting a 10-year-old girl. Which leads me to the really bad news. When I took Royter's prints, I found a greasy substance on his hands. Had a fruity smell.

Garret: Like strawberries.

Jordan: This girl wasn't just suffocated, she was raped.

Garret: Think our John Doe here was the culprit. She wasn't his first victim, either.

Jordan: Bastard's lucky he's already dead.

Garret: Okay, let's try to make sense of this. David Royter here rapes and kills this little girl. Our mystery shooter kills Royter, then comes to the morgue and kills Claudia Simpson--why?

Jordan: Maybe he knew what Royter had done to the girl. Maybe that's why he killed him.

Garret: Okay, but where does Claudia Simpson fit in?

Jordan: I don't know. Woody said the she had bad taste in men. Maybe Royter and she were a couple?

Garret: So our shooter thought she was involved in the girl's death?

Jordan: Maybe... Look, think about it, Garret. What kind of person becomes so enraged by a child's murder that they become the murderer themselves?

Garret: I don't know. Someone close to the child. A family member.

Jordan: Father? We figure out who you are... bet we find our shooter.

Woody: (on cell phone) She is approximately 12 years old, four-foot-six, 70 pounds.

Garret: (on cell phone) Blond hair, green eyes.

Jordan: (on cell phone) No, thanks. I appreciate it. (Hangs up) Struck out in Essex.

Bug: And it's not the girl from Cape Cod.

Jordan: Why the hell isn't there one unified missing children's database?

Nigel: You're preaching to the choir, love. It's like living in the Stone Age.

Lily: The bigger question is why are there so many missing kids?

Garret: Okay, thanks. (Hangs up) We may have to broaden our search outside the state.

Woody: If you could e-mail it to me. Thank you. (Hangs up) Bug, Quincy PD is gonna be sending you a photo. Girl disappeared 18 months ago. Dad supposedly is a real hot head. Went ballistic when his daughter disappeared.

Bug: Bingo. Sally Yates. Lived at 452 Morningview Terrace. Parents are Carl and Debby.

Jordan: Can you pull up the dad's photo on the RMV database?

Woody: Try Boston PD.

Bug: No, nothing.

Woody: I can't sit on this. Keep looking. I'm gonna go see what Carl Yates has to say for himself.

Garret: Woody, wait--if we're wrong and he's not the shooter, his daughter's still been murdered. I should go with you and make the notification.

Jordan: You know what, Garret? Let me. If he is the shooter, I wanna give him my regards.

***Yates House***

(Woody enters the backyard with his gun up and backup with him.)

Woody: (Wood chopping) Boston PD! Put down the axe! Put down the axe now! Carl Yates?

Carl: Yeah!

Woody: Get on your knees! Hands behind your head! Now turn around oh so slowly.

Jordan: Woody... it's not him. 

Carl: A gun to my head in my own backyard? Like we haven't been through enough?

Woody: Yes, Mr. Yates. We're very sorry about that. But the man we're looking for is armed and dangerous. And we could not take any chances. 

Debby: And the monster who did this to Sally, you say he's dead?

Woody: Yes.

Debby: Well, that's something.

Carl: Where'd you find her?

Woody: Near an on-ramp off the highway, just outside of downtown.

Carl: She was buried?

Woody: No, sir. She had been dumped there.

Carl: You kidding me? Our little girl was lying there for 18 months, and nobody noticed?

Jordan: Mr. Yates, Mrs. Yates... from what I could tell, your daughter died yesterday.

Debby: Yesterday? No. No, that's not possible. Carl...

Carl: Our Sally's been dead for a year-and-a-half. Since, um, a month after she was abducted.

Woody: What made you think that your daughter was dead?

Carl: About a month after she was, uh, missing... we got this in the mail. (It is a picture of their daughter with blood all over and around her.) We gave it to the police. They couldn't trace where it came from. It said, uh, there was nothing more we could do.

Jordan: Look, I examined your daughter's body. There were no gunshot wounds, no scars.

Woody: I'm so sorry to tell you folks this, but we believe this photo was staged.

Carl: I... don't understand.

Jordan: It looks like... someone wanted you to believe that your daughter was dead, so you'd stop looking for her.

Debby: Our Sally's been alive all this time? (Crying)

***ME's Office***

Jordan: Jesus, what is this?

Nigel: It's the number of that PI I mentioned. If you're nice, I might be able to score you a discount. Nice to me, not him.

Jordan: Max'll come home when he's good and ready.

Nigel: And what if you're ready for him to come home?

Jordan: I guess that's my problem.

Nigel: You know, Jordan, I spent most of my life hating my father, but now that we're on speaking terms again, I would give anything to get those last years back. So look... in case you change your mind. Besides, Sherlock could really use the work.

Jordan: Sherlock?

Garret:  Jordan, any surprises with the Sally Yates autopsy?

Jordan: Well, confirmed cause of death was suffocation. Happened in the last 24 hours.

Garret:  Hmm. Well, here's a surprise. Sally's rape kit results. There's physical evidence of at least five sexual partners.

Jordan: Oh, my god.

Garret:  Yeah, I know. Look, Jordan, we need to focus here. The morgue shooter could be one of these pedophiles.

Jordan: And I was giving him points just for taking out one of the bad guys.

Garret:  He's a murderer, so no matter what, that makes him a bad guy too.

Lily: Have these been cleared? (Lily is having flashbacks of the shooting as she walks through the morgue)

Mr. Simpson: Uh, excuse me.

Lily: Uh, I'm sorry, the morgue is closed to the public today.

Mr. Simpson: Well, my sister is Claudia Simpson. She's the one who--

Lily: Oh, my god. I'm Lily Lebowski. I--cannot tell you how very, very sorry I am. I was actually the last person to speak to your sister before she--

Mr. Simpson: I'm here to pick up her personal effects.

Lily: Of course. I'm-- oh, I'm sorry. The police need to keep her things while they do their investigation.

Mr. Simpson: I understand. It's just, I, uh, I can't find my keys to Claudia's house. And I just wanted to... (Sighs) uh, to go get her things in order.

Lily: Let me see what I can do.

Seely: How can this be evidence? I can't even tell what it is. What are you doing?

Lily: The brother of the woman who was shot, he needs her keys.

Seely: Lily... that's an open murder investigation. Anything found on the victim is evidence.

Lily: Well, can't you authorize it?

Seely: Sorry. Ain't gonna happen. And it's not because I'm insensitive. It's because it's against regulations. I just got the spotlight off my ass.

Lily: Well, last time I checked, Detective, the world didn't revolve around your ass.

Nigel: So, remember how you asked me to look at the surveillance footage, see if I could identify the shooter's car?

Woody: I'm years ahead of you. Security already showed me the video. I ran the plates. They're stolen.

Nigel: Yeah, well, I'm light years ahead of you. See, I happened to notice the shooter made a left turn at the garage at 7:12 AM. Then again at 7:13 at the corner of Southampton and Massachusetts. And then at 7:17. 7:21. 7:22. And, finally, 7:24. He parks outside of the... Bayside motel. (Nigel pulls up surveillance photos of the car as he reads the times.)

***Bayside Motel***

Clerk: What'd he do?

Woody: So far, he's murdered two people.

Clerk: (Laughs) Cool.

Woody: No, not cool. Do you recognize him or not?

Clerk: That's Frank D.

Nigel: What, Dee, like Sandra?

Clerk: "D," like the letter. You know, "D," period?

Nigel: Oh, what, like Kenny G.?

Woody: What room is he in?

Clerk: He was in 207. But he checked out this morning.

Woody: Damn it. He pay with a credit card?

Clerk: Who said we take credit cards?

Nigel: Well, has the maid cleaned the room yet?

Clerk: Who said we have maids?

Woody: All right, we're gonna need to see that room, now. (Cell phone rings) Excuse me. This is Hoyt. Yeah. Yeah, I got it. There's been another shooting at the Viceroy Hotel. Guy fleeing the scene fits the description of our shooter.

Nigel: All right, I'm gonna stay here, check out the room to see if he's left behind anything incriminating, okay?

***Viceroy Hotel***

Woody: Jordan. Our intended victim, Samuel Page, vice president of Taft Federal.

Jordan: If he's not a victim, what am I doing here?

Woody: For the innocent bystander. At least five people saw our shooter in the lobby, Jordan. It's our guy.

Jordan: Wonder what she did to deserve this.

Woody: It's called wrong place, wrong time. Seems that Page was having a little afternoon delight when the shooter made his way in.

Jordan: Coitus interruptus. Wonder where his partner is.

Woody: Well, she either fled or was already gone by the time the shooter arrived.

Jordan: Woody...

Woody: Not without her clothes.

Jordan: You can come out now. It's safe.

Woody: I'm Detective Woody Hoyt, Boston PD. Hey. There's nothing to be afraid of. I just wanna help.

Jordan: Woody. Let me.

Woody: She's just a kid.

Jordan: Hi. My name is Jordan. What's yours? Look, I really am here to help.

Flora: (Spanish accent) Flora.

Jordan: Flora? Que nombre bonito. Tell me, Flora, are you hurt?

Woody: I'll be, uh...

Jordan: uh, look, I just want to make sure that the man with the gun didn't hurt you, okay?

Flora: He wasn't like the others?

Jordan: The others?

Flora: The men they made me have sex with?

Jordan: Who makes you?

Flora: I can't tell.

Jordan: Why not?

Flora: They'll kill me.

Jordan: Flora, that guy waiting outside, he's a police officer. He'll protect you.

Flora: No, the policia, they're just like the others.

Jordan: No, not this guy. I promise you. Please, Flora. You gotta tell me. It's the only way I can help you.

Flora: I don't know her name. We call her Mother.

Jordan: We? Are there other girls?

Flora: There's nine of us. Mother keeps us locked in the basement till it's time to go to work. Did you mean it? Will you help me?

Jordan: Yes, Flora. You can count on it.

Woody: Child prostitutes?

Jordan: No, sex slaves, Woody. Held against their will, forced to do God knows what.

Woody: These are the days I hate my job. Does she know where this basement is?

Jordan: No clue. There's no windows. And when they go out, "Mother" makes them ride in the back of a cargo van.

Woody: We will find this basement, Jordan, we will. But first, I've got to talk to Flora about the shooting.

Jordan: No, Woody, she's been through enough already. And, remember, she's the victim here.

Woody: We still have a shooter out there, remember? Probably scoping out his next victim as we speak.

Jordan: As far as I'm concerned, he's doing the world a favor. Let him take out as many perverts as he can.

Medic: We didn't find any injuries, but she should get a full checkup as soon as possible. Rape kit, testing for HIV, STD’s.

Jordan: Okay, thanks. Hey. How you feeling?

Woody: Flora... can you do something for me?

Flora: Do I have to take my clothes off?

Jordan: No, uh... Flora, Woody's not like those other men. I swear to you, he doesn't want to hurt you. He just wants to find that man with the gun. Now, if there's anything you can remember about what he said or did.

Flora: I heard him say, "This is for my daughter... Leann."

***ME's Office***

Woody: Leann Dawber, Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. 16 years old, went missing two months ago. Flora confirmed she is one of the girls being held captive.

Garret:  What about her father?

Woody: Frank Dawber, age 46, divorced. He's a welder at a railroad car factory. Guy is squeaky clean. Belongs to the royal order of moose. Goes to church every Sunday. That's why he didn't pop up in our system.

Garret:  Jordan ID’d him?

Woody: Yeah, it's our guy. I had Pittsburgh PD pay him a visit, and no one's seen him for three days.

Garret:  If you think your daughter's alive, you don't kill the people who could tell you where she is.

Woody: But if someone sends you a grisly photo showing that she's dead--

Garret:  Then you turn into a vigilante father looking for blood. I can't say I wouldn't do the same thing.

Woody: Well, our lucky-to-be-alive hotel victim should be getting out of surgery soon. If he can tell us how Frank Dawber found him, maybe we can find Frank Dawber.

Jordan: Hey.

Lily: Flora and I both have flowery names. That's cool, huh?

Jordan: Very cool. I guess I'm the odd girl out. Look, I need to take a couple samples from you. Uh, a hair strand and a mouth swab. Is that okay with you, Flora?

Flora: Okay.

Jordan: This will not hurt a bit. Okay, just open your mouth. Have you been sick recently?

Flora: My food don't always stay down.

Jordan: Um... cutaneous ulcers in the mouth. Have Bug run that for parasites.

Flora: Daisy.

Jordan: What's that?

Flora: That could be your flower name.

Jordan: Daisy. Daisy Cavanaugh. Well, I like it. Thank you. (Jordan pulls a pine needle from Flora's shoe.) Hey, Flora, uh, do you know what pine needles smell like with Christmas trees? (She nods.) Okay, do you ever smell that from the basement? Oh, boy, you have such beautiful hair. Do you ever braid it?

Flora: The other girls sometimes do it for me, like my mama used to.

Lily: Flora... I'm still trying to find your family in Mexico. I checked with the authorities in Juarez. They think your parents went to South Fork?

Flora: They don't want me anymore.

Lily: I'm sure that's not true.

Flora: They sold me for $500.

Jordan: Lily, why don't you take Flora to the break room, get her something to eat before the sketch artist comes.

Flora: Are you mad at me?

Jordan: No. No, Flora. Look, I could never be mad at you. Okay? You have done nothing wrong. Do you hear me? I'm just, uh... very mad at the people who hurt you. And I want to keep them from hurting anybody else.

Flora: Me, too.

Jordan: Okay.

Nigel: The ulcers in Flora's mouth are caused by cryptosporidiosis. It's like gastrointestinal disease, more commonly known as crypto.

Garret:  Transmitted by microscopic parasites found in water. Yeah, I actually went to medical school.

Bug: About a year ago, the DWP discovered crypto in parts of the city sewage system. These are the 18 areas that still need to get their pipes cleaned.

Garret:  18? Might as well be 1,800.

Nigel: But wait-- there's more, uh... Nigel's tree-huggers guide to New England. Made from recycled paper, naturally. The pine needle that was found on Flora's shoe was-- was a Pinus banksiana. Jack pine.

Bug: It's not indigenous to Boston, but it is heavily planted for community planning, beautification--

Nigel: And as you can see from my lovely Venn diagrams, that actually brings us down to seven neighborhoods. 

Garret:  Still not good enough, guys. Chances are those girls are being raped again as we speak. I want that number down to one.


Woody: Ah ha! Seems they put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Samuel Page, 45, bank vp making seven figures a year. (Whistles) Wife, two girls, 19 and 22. What happened, your daughters get too old for you? Excuse me. (Woody plops himself down on the side of the hospital bed.) Now, is this the man who shot you? (Woody shows the surveillance picture from the morgue shooting.)

Samuel: Yeah, you catch him?

Woody: Not just yet. He's out there somewhere, reloading. Now, what about this guy--you know him? (Woody holds up a picture of Royter.)

Samuel: No.

Woody: Really? He's a fellow pervert. I would have thought you guys ran in the same circles. Last photo, Claudia Simpson. Do you know her?

Samuel: No.

Woody: Little fast, goat brain.

Samuel: Why are you showing me these?

Woody: The man who shot you shot and killed these people as well. Now, last chance. Claudia Simpson.

(Samuel groans)

Woody: What's the matter? What's the matter? Oh, I'm sorry. Is that your abdomen wound I'm leaning on? I thought it was a pillow. My bad. Claudia Simpson.

Samuel: Nurse. Nurse!

Woody: She's a nurse? I don't think so. This has gotta be hurting. This has gotta be hurting real bad. What's the problem-- you're a sadist, but not a masochist? Last chance, pervert.

Samuel: She's who you call. She delivers the prostitutes... to...

Woody: So she's Mother. What about her brother, Paul Simpson. You know him?

Samuel: No.

Woody: You swear?

Samuel: I swear.

Woody: Swear!

Samuel: I swear it!

Woody: Newsflash, pervert. Forcing an underage girl to have sex does not make her a prostitute. It makes her a rape victim. Which makes you a rapist. Pervert. You're a pervert rapist. Now, since our shooter's still at large, I'm gonna leave a cop by the door. Not that I really care if you die or not. I don't. I just want you to be around for the perp walk. It is oh so humiliating for a pillar of the community such as yourself. Feel better.

***ME's Office***

(Flora is sleeping on the couch of the break room)

Lily: Jordan. The sketch artist drew up Flora's description of Mother. (Lily holds up the sketch.)

Jordan: Claudia Simpson.

Lily: Makes me sick to my stomach all over again.

Jordan: Yeah but for different reasons.

Seely: Hey, excuse me, ladies. I understand someone's been looking for the Martinez parents.

Lily: Yeah, I have.

Seely: Well, look no further. They're down in Monterey. Turns out they've been looking for Flora for months. That's a description of their search, the missing persons report. They even put up a small reward. Whatever they could afford.

Lily: So they didn't sell her?

Seely: Nope. Big, fat lie.

Jordan: Yeah, I wonder who told it.

Lily: Oh, what a relief.

Jordan: Lily, get her parents on the next plane out. Tickets are on me.

Seely: Oh, you know what, I got it.

Jordan: What is with the Mr. Do-gooder routine?

Lily: Uhh...


Jordan: Flora... Flora, what's wrong?

Flora: I had a dream. These kids were teasing me. They said I was dirty.

Jordan: What kids?

Flora: The ones we hear outside.

Jordan: You hear them from the basement? (She nods.) A lot of them? (She nods again.) Okay, Does it sound like, uh, school or a park?

Flora: A school. (Lily is listening and leaves the room) They said I was dirty.

Jordan: No. Oh, sweetheart. No, you're not. No, you are not.

Nigel: Okay, we overlap the DWP map and jack pine foliage with all outdoor school playgrounds. Then, taking into account the auditory range of kids at play, we can eliminate most houses outside of, let's say a... quarter mile radius.

Lily: Which leaves two neighborhoods. Still a 50/50 split.

Bug: I think I might have the tiebreaker. Flora's hair shows high traces of lead tin oxide.

Lily: Isn't that the lead in old paint?

Bug: Specifically, paint made before 1955. So that narrows the search down to houses built at or before that time period.

Nigel: Okay, I'm gonna access the county assessor's office.

Bug: You can do that?


Lily: Southeast corner of Somerville. I'll tell Jordan. You guys rock.

Bug: Yeah.

***Simpson Travel Agency***

Woody: (Knock on door) Mr. Simpson? Mr. Simpson?

Dawber: (Gun cocks to the back of Woody's head.) Get out of here. I got no beef with you.

Woody: I got a beef with you, Mr. Dawber. All right? I'm Detective Woody Hoyt, Boston Police Department.

Dawber: I don't care who you are! That son of a bitch Simpson's gonna pay!

Woody: Okay... but there's a right way to go about this. And a wrong way. (Mr. Simpson enters the room.)

Dawber: You killed my daughter! You see that?

(A gunshot goes off into the air as Woody wrestles for the gun. As soon as Simpson sees what's going on he turns and flees.)

Woody: Drop the gun! Drop the gun!

Dawber: He's getting away!

Woody: Shut up! (Woody has gained control of Dawber and handcuffs him to a file cabinet.)

Dawber: He's getting away!

Woody: Lie still and shut up!

Dawber: He's getting away!

Woody: Stay!

Dawber: Get him! Uhh! Get him!

Woody: (to Simpson as they're running down an alley.) You better freeze! You better freeze! Police! Stop, Simpson! You're only making things worse!

(A large van is heading straight for Woody. Woody fires one shot at it before jumping out of the way. The van speeds off.)

(Woody is leading Dawber, handcuffed, to the police car outside the travel agency.)

Dawber: Leann called me ten days ago. Hysterical. She said she and these other girls were being forced to have sex. Then the line went dead. Imagine hearing your only child, your sweet little girl telling you such a thing.

Woody: You trace the call back to Boston?

Dawber: To some crummy Southside Motel. Someone had to pay. So I pretended to be a John... with a thing for little girls. That's how I met that sicko Royter.

Woody: You took justice into your own hands.

Dawber: He got what he deserved. So did Page. I wasn't gonna let those sick bastards hurt anyone else?

Woody: What about Claudia Simpson?

Dawber: I knew she was the madam. But I couldn't get to her. Then I found her number in Royter's wallet. Made a bogus call to get her down to the morgue. Then I heard her last name. Dug deeper. Found out that her brother's the real mastermind.

Woody: Mr. Dawber...

Dawber: (Cries) He did that to my girl! (He holds up a photo of his daughter lying in a pool of blood.)

Woody: Mr. Dawber, when you take a photo of a dead person, they can't get red-eyed. It has something to do with the corneas clouding over. Your daughter has red-eye in this photo. She was alive when it was taken. I spoke to a girl who said, as of yesterday, your daughter is alive.

Dawber: What?

Woody: Your daughter is alive.

Dawber: She's alive? Oh, god. (Sobbing)

***Southeast Corner of Somerville***

(Nigel and Jordan are walking around trying to find the house where the girls are being held.)

Nigel: Okay, so the elementary school is a half a block that way.

Jordan: Flags waving, white picket fences. But you never know what's going on behind the curtains.

Nigel: Hmm. Didn't Flora say something about a cargo van? (There's one in a driveway)

Jordan: Yeah. (She starts running to the house.)

Nigel: Wait, Jordan. Shouldn't we-- (Jordan knocks on door) Call for backup? What are those?

Jordan: Claudia Simpson's keys. Or should I say, uh, Mother's? (Jordan gets the door open.) Ah. Sometimes god is on our side.

Nigel: Oh, bloody hell. (The house is completely empty of any furniture.)

Jordan: (Cell phone ringing) Hey, Woody, we found the house.

Woody: You did? Where?!

Jordan: It's in Somerville. Uh, 1453 Griffith Drive.

Woody: All right, Jordan. I'm calling for backup. Do not, I repeat, do not go inside.

Jordan: I wouldn't dream of it.

Woody: Damn it, Jordan!

Jordan: Uh, we'll see you when you get here.

Woody: (to Dawber) We found the house.

Nigel: Now we wait for backup.

Jordan: We're looking for a basement door. (She passes by a rack of girls clothes hanging up. She finds the basement door.) Hello? Anybody here? Look, it's okay. I'm here to help.

Girl: Are you our new mother?

Jordan: No. No, I'm getting you out of here-- (Nigel comes falling down the basement stairs) Nigel! Nigel!

Nigel: Yeah, that hurt. (Mr. Simpson comes appears at the top of the stairs.)

Mr. Simpson: You're gonna pay for that. (He holds up a gun.)

Jordan: The cops are right behind us, so if I were you--

Mr. Simpson: You're not me! (Descending stairs) How about... when they get here, they find your body first. (referring to Jordan. A girl comes up behind Simpson and stabs him in the back with a jackknife.) Aah! Aah!

Jordan: (She was able to get the gun away and is now aiming it at Simpson) Nigel, get the girls upstairs.

Nigel: Come on. Everybody up.

Mr. Simpson: (Grunting and sreaming) Look, you bitch—

Jordan: No, you look! No witnesses. I pull this trigger, and I will get off in self-defense, while you, you low-life piece of garbage, will take your reserve seat in hell.

Mr. Simpson: I wouldn't do that if I were you.

Jordan: Oh, yeah? Well, you're not me.

(Gun cocks)

Woody: Where's Jordan?

Nigel: She's downstairs. (Gun shot) Hey, guys, come on.

Woody: Jordan.

Jordan: I thought I saw a rat.

Woody: Come here. Come here, dirt bag. (Woody cuffs Simpson and as he's being led away, Jordan pulls the knife out from his back.)

Mr. Simpson: Agh!

Jordan: My knife.

Woody: (to a cop as he puts Simpson in the squad car.) Booking, pronto.

Dawber: (still in cuffs in a squad car) Leann! Leann!

Leann: Daddy!

Dawber: Leann!

Leann: Daddy! Daddy!

Dawber: Leann!

Leann: Daddy! Daddy! (Woody unlocks the car and Dawber gets out)

Dawber: Leann!

Leann: Daddy!

Dawber: Leann. Leann! (Both sobbing)

Jordan: Uncuff him, Woody.

Woody: Jordan.

Jordan: Come on, look around. There's at least a dozen cops here. He's not going anywhere.

Dawber: Baby, it's okay. It's okay. Oh, it's okay. Daddy's here. (Both sobbing) You're okay. It's okay now.

***ME's Office***

Jordan: Paul Simpson and his sister used a travel agency as a front to kidnap and transport girls. He had stash houses in New York, Baltimore, Atlanta-- Garret: Unfortunately, it's about supply and demand. If there weren't so many sick bastards out there in the market for this sort of thing.

Jordan: Well, the good news is Woody found Simpson's little black book. It's a regular who's who of vice. It should help keep him in prison for a very long time.

Garret: What about the girls?

Jordan: They're being checked out right now. Family's contacted.

Garret: It's gonna be a long road for most of them.

Jordan: Yeah, that's an understatement. Oh, hey! Where's Flora?

Lily: In the locker-room. I bought her some new clothes. Her parents are due in a half an hour. I should really go.

Jordan: Well, I'll get her.

Lily: Ohh.

Seely: Hey. So do I get two points for finding the girl's parents?

Lily: Yes, two points for you, Detective.

Seely: How about another two for not giving you those personal effects?

Lily: How about another two if you drive Flora and me to the airport?

Seely: Wow. Six points? Does that earn me a date?

Lily: After the last 24 hours, I could use a cup of coffee. Maybe someone to talk to.

Seely: Mmm... I'll buy you the cup of coffee.

Lily: Oh, my god.

Jordan: Boy, you look beautiful.

Flora: Blue is my mama's favorite color.

Jordan: You ready to go?

Flora: What do I tell them?

Jordan: Just tell them that you love them. That's all that really matters, really. (Flora gives Jordan a hug.)

Flora: Bye.

Jordan: Bye.


Jordan: (on the phone) Hello. Hi, my name is Jordan Cavanaugh. I'm hoping that maybe you can help me find my father.


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