Come on, can we finish this? It's getting late.
Ah. Yeah, okay.
I assure my esteemed colleague...
that since the death of our friend and coworker...
Samuel Norman, the Auto Workers Alliance...
has made a substantial recovery and will continue...
No, new sentence there.
Okay. We will continue to improve with the months ahead. Yours truly, Frank...
I know who it's from, Frank.
You hear that?
It's probably my date.
Aw, come on, Liz.
Come on.
- Don't be in such a hurry to get home. - Ah. Mm.
You can't possibly have a better suggestion.
Ho-ho, so happens I do.
Oh, Frank.
Boy, I'll tell you, these things never work.
Ugh.
Oh, what? You got something against violence?
- You dating Santa Claus? - Ha, ha.
Jesus Christ.
Jesus Christ!
Huh?
Hey, man, no, man.
It was a regular fuck-a-rama at my place last night.
Can the shit, Kornblau.
There ain't been any pussy at your pad since your mother helped you move in.
They ought to call your place "The House of Whacks."
Oh, heh, check this out.
I'm surprised he don't wear a shirt that says "I steal shit."
Mm-hm.
What's he think we're driving, an ice cream truck?
He's gotta be kidding.
Nah. This boy would have to college for four years
to reach the level of shit-for-brains.
There he goes.
Hey! You little bastard! What's wrong with you?
- Ha, ha. - We better call the meat wagon.
No, no, no, no, no.
It'd be best to let it percolate a little.
Give me your damn purse!
I'll give you my purse where it'll do you the most good!
What's your name?
Uh, Albert. Albert Smith.
Albert...
your mother and father weren't, by chance, brother and sister, were they?
- What's gonna happen to me? - Oh, nothing.
Uh, nothing much. You might have to endure a little session with "Action" Jackson.
- Who's Actson...? - Action. Action Jackson.
Some say he didn't even have a mother.
That some researchers...
at NASA created him to walk on the moon without a space suit.
Mm-hm.
Others say his mother was molested by Bigfoot.
And Jackson's their mutant offspring.
They bring in Jackson when they want to re-educate some young ne'er-do-well.
Such as yourself, Albert.
I remember one kid got re-educated so bad...
his testicles climbed back up into his belly. Wouldn't come out.
- They called it a medical miracle. - Another kid, handcuffed to a chair.
Gnawed his own hand off like a trapped skunk...
or Wolverine or something.
Jackson is so vicious, we don't even let him have a gun.
Is he here?
He gets so riled up...
you gotta use tranquilizer darts just to keep him in his chair.
Hey, how you doing man?
Hey, what's going on?
Ow! Ha, ha.
Where is he?
Keep your dick on, kid. They're probably just cleaning out his cage.
Uh-huh.
- Hi, darling. - Hmm.
How much do you charge for a hand job?
My partner has sprained his wrist.
Maybe you'd like to try a foot job instead?
- Ooh. - Ooh.
- And how much is that? - For you, it's free.
Stop that kid!
Stupid son of a bitch!
Little shit! I'm gonna break your legs!
Grab him!
- Get that little shit! - Look out!
Mellow out.
You did it again, Jackson.
Jackson, what's on the agenda today?
Trying out a new typewriter or maybe a dangerous Xerox assignment, huh?
Sorry, I meant to congratulate you on that collar you made.
Thanks a lot, I appreciate it.
It takes sharp work to track a man screaming, "I did it! I did it!"
You know, Jackson, I can't believe we stayed partners as long as we did.
- Come in! - Somebody had to carry you.
File that, will you?
So far we got zilch.
It's as if the assailant was invisible. There wasn't enough left of Stringer...
for an autopsy.
And his secretary, Miss Massetori, seems to have died before the fire started.
How was that?
No sign of smoke inhalation. Not even seared lungs.
- Interesting. - It was unusual...
for Mr. Stringer and Miss Massetori to be working so late...
but the coroner didn't think he was slipping her the old protein pickup.
Detective Kotterwell, please keep a leash on your vocabulary.
Yes, sir.
Like me to repeat anything?
"The old protein pickup."
You give this department class. I'm surprised they don't make you captain.
If Armbruster fucked up as bad as you did, they probably would.
Looks like your friend fainted again.
- Did you threaten to white him out? - No.
I just showed him a picture of your girlfriend.
Jackson, have a seat.
Sergeant, how long has it been since you lost your lieutenant's stripes?
Almost two years.
And how would you describe those two years?
Uneventful.
In my years on the force, I have never met a more dedicated policeman.
I know you're a very proud man. And you have much to be proud of.
High-school track star, Harvard law degree...
Frankly, if I had a Harvard law degree I never would've become a policeman.
I know the duties I assign you are trivial, but they're crucial...
in maintaining the public's goodwill.
- Yes, sir. - Like tonight, for example.
I need you to represent the department at the Detroit Businessman League's...
Man of the Year fundraiser. I was scheduled to attend...
but I had forgotten that this is my wife's Parcheesi night.
- That sounds pretty painless. - Won't be that painless.
Their Man of the Year is Peter Dellaplane.
Peter Dellaplane is Man of the Year, huh?
Sure. Why not make Charlie Manson a high-school counselor?
Just because the man had a few family problems...
His son's a sexual psychopath. With problems like that, I'd get neutered.
I know you take this matter very personally...
Personally? Captain, the man cost me my stripes!
You cost you your stripes, no one else!
You could've handled Sean Dellaplane more delicately.
How, huh? Send him an engraved invitation?
"Come on down here. Join us at city jail. Dress casual. RSVP."
- You nearly tore that boy's arm off! - So?
He had a spare.
Sergeant...
I'm not sure I'm getting through to you.
That case not only cost you your lieutenant's stripes...
but also your gun permit and marriage, and brought this department...
publicity we can do without.
The public doesn't appreciate charges of police brutality, substantiated or not!
I'm not asking you to go there to brownnose Peter Dellaplane.
I just need to be sure your Action Jackson days are far behind you.
Then we'll see about getting those lieutenant's stripes back.
On my television I came across a commercial...
for Dellaplane's car, the Halley.
And I was struck by just how apt that name is.
For Peter Dellaplane is himself a comet.
A man whose bright and blazing tail...
leads the way for the few with the courage to follow.
And like Halley's comet, he's the kind of man...
who comes along only once in a lifetime.
Ladies and gentlemen, our Man of the Year...
Mr. Peter Anthony Dellaplane.
Thank you.
Congratulations!
Wonderful, Peter!
Thank you. Thank you.
I hope the fire marshal isn't too alarmed by my blazing tail.
As a young boy growing up...
in my father's house, I spent a lot of time in the library.
One not that much smaller than the Library of Congress.
Pardon me.
You can't hear what he's saying back here.
Ah, I know. It's the best seat in the house.
I take it your not one of Mr. Dellaplane's friends.
Not unless they changed the definition.
I want you to meet my most lovely bride...
Patrice Dellaplane.
Patrice.
I bet I can make you change your mind.
My most precious wife.
Sweetheart, let's share this moment together.
Didn't, um, Caulfield versus North Carolina demonstrate...
that liability applies to government as individuals, not as a unit?
No, liability applies only if the individual's acting on his own accord...
not as a representative of the government.
Yes, I see that. But on the other hand...
What do you think of our Man of the Year?
I think he is a greedy...
conceited, two-faced, backstabbing asshole.
Yes, I'd say that just about sums it up.
Peter, I'd like you to meet... I'm sorry, I don't know your name.
Jackson. Jericho Jackson.
There's a nickname associated with it, isn't there?
Something like "excitement"?
Uh, "Enthusiasm"? "Esprit de corps"?
It's "Action
- Well, of course. That rhymes. - Heh.
How do you know each other?
We met through my son.
I helped him to relocate. How's he doing?
He's adjusting.
The Dellaplanes are adept at dealing with obstacles.
He was a popular boy. I'm sure he's popular in his new home.
I hear all it takes is the right opening.
The car's ready.
It's been a pleasure to see you, lieutenant.
I'm sorry.
It's sergeant now, isn't it?
Guess I wasn't able to make you change your mind after all.
What do you call a guy with no arms and legs, under a pile of leaves?
Russell.
A guy with no arms and legs, who sits on the porch?
Matt.
A guy with no arms and legs, who...
sits on the wall?
Art.
Pal, you're trying to unload a whole field of fertilizer on me here.
Stringer's death was neither tragic nor accidental.
Somebody diced the guy.
A guy with no arms and legs that floats in the water?
You two assholes if you don't shut the fuck up.
Bob.
- What's up his ass? - Unh!
I have some Tums if you need them.
What the...? Oh!
Yeah, Ray, you're talking to Mr. Security himself here.
I got the place tighter than the Pope's poop chute.
What the hell's going on?
Yeah, I know, but you're interrupting an aria.
Okay, yeah.
Good night.
Later!
You better start thinking about a new career, pal.
Oh, shit!
Hey, sarge! Good evening.
Too bad about the game, huh?
We lost. Damn.
- Put money down on it? - Clovis, I'm a cop.
How much did you lose on that game?
Okay. Ten bucks.
Ten bucks? Is that all? Do they give you enough?
You gotta play for higher stakes!
That means I'd have to tip less.
Stop the presses You did not hear it from this mouth.
Please be careful...
With the car because the parts are hard to find for a '66 Impala.
I don't sound that bad, do I?
No, not at all.
I was merely extemporizing, heh.
Extemporizing.
Oh, and please don't peel away too slowly because...
this car's my most prized possession...
and should be driven as fast as possible at all times.
This has nothing to do with plumbing.
Well, of course it doesn't. Don't be ridiculous.
The Halley, from Dellaplane.
Look for a new star in the sky tonight.
The Halley. The car of tomorrow can be yours today.
Hot.
Hotter.
Hottest.
We're miles above the rest.
The Halley, from Dellaplane.
Jericho, this is Tony. Pick up, man. You there? Pick up!
I got some news, pal. Some interesting stuff.
Call me. You know where you can reach me.
Harbor officials report that the craft belongs to Lionel Grantham.
An AWA official who's been president...
of Local 132 for the last five years.
Grantham is believed to have died in the explosion...
with crew members whose names are being held...
Come on. There's gotta be more!
The coroner's looking at what's left of Grantham.
It's like the Norman case. There wasn't enough left to put on a pizza.
- What evidence connects the deaths? - Am I hearing correctly?
Is the one-man army really asking for help?
- Jackson, call for you! - Who is it?
Do I look like your secretary?
Yeah, it must be your lipstick.
Hold on a second. Dale!
- Jackson here. - It's Tony.
Tony, I'm sorry. I...
Where have you been? Come over as soon as you can.
This is a matter of life and death.
Hey, Tony?
Tony.
Jesus, Tony. You don't look too good.
How'd you get in here?
It was open.
Hey, what happened? Who did this?
I did.
You can never be too careful.
The walls...
The walls have ears, and all of that.
- Come on, I wanna take you to a hospital. - No! No, no.
- Whoa. - Sit down.
You sit down and you're gonna listen.
All right.
Just cool it.
- Looks like you haven't slept in days. - I can't afford to sleep.
Norman dead...
Grantham dead...
Stringer dead.
And Tony alive. For now.
- Right? - Who'd wanna kill you, Tony?
I'll give you three guesses, and the first two...
you forget about. All right?
Here's a little hint:
"Hot. Hotter. Hottest."
Peter Dellaplane.
I'd like to tell you a story
About a man and the many Hearts he broke
Eye to eye you are no match
'Cause you wanna fall in love
Girls, he'll break your heart
Do you wrong, tell you lies
'Cause he's got those
Far away eyes
I'm a fool, baby
Far away eyes
Boy, you're a heartbreaker
Still, I've got to make you mine
Play on this, baby
You're the one and only
Open up my door
And love me with your
Far away eyes
How do you feel, baby
Far away eyes
Boy, you're a heartbreaker
Still, I've got to make you mine
I expected a standing ovation.
You're getting one.
- Will you be leaving now, Miss Ash? - Yes, she will, Edd.
Would you like me to accompany you?
No, thank you. This part I can do on my own.
You remember who pays your salary?
You do, Mr. Dellaplane. And most generously.
Right.
Working for Springer, my job was to keep tabs on people.
Ask questions, find out who's planning what power plays. That kind of thing.
Dellaplane, he was...
working his way through the union. Finding who's for him, who against.
Who resented his money, his power. Who was agreeing with him...
- and, uh, it was all that. - All right, look.
What does that have to do with Stringer?
Stringer didn't trust him.
He hated his guts, in fact.
That's the same for Norman and for Grantham. And because of that...
Dellaplane wanted them out of the way.
For what?
That's the rickety part, because I don't know.
It's just, heh... I can't figure that out.
Wait. Come on, think about it.
You're saying Dellaplane's killing off unfriendly AWA leaders...
and you don't know why and you don't have any evidence.
Don't tell me you're afraid of Dellaplane.
The Jackson I knew wasn't afraid of nothing.
We all thought he'd make a name for himself.
If I got the wrong Jackson, please tell me.
Come on, you got the right Jackson.
He didn't make the name for himself he thought he would.
One person you might try...
is Dellaplane's mistress. She's a singer.
Her name is Sydney Ash and she works at this club.
Joey's Club Elite. All right?
- I'm not wasting your time. - I know.
I promise you that I'm on to something.
Thanks.
Moretti?
Delivery.
Would you please sign here?
It's C.O.D.
I saw your wife in the paper last week.
Are you ever gonna tell her about me?
- Why would I do a thing like that? - Hmm.
You know I never mix business with pleasure.
Which of us is business and which is pleasure, huh?
Would you like me to spell it out for you?
- You said that you'd come see me more. - Hmm.
And you said a man from Motown was gonna come hear me sing.
Mm-hm. Mm-hm.
And you also said that I could cut a record...
and that I'd be going places. - Hmm.
Mm-hm.
Hmm.
Did I say all that?
Mm-hm.
- Really? - Mm-hm.
Give me two good reasons why I'd say all those things.
Oh, yeah. Now I remember.
Oh, baby.
You're gorgeous.
This...
is supposed to be a girl's best friend.
What would I ever do without you, huh?
Let's hope you never have to find out.
Sweet dreams, baby.
Amphetamines, malnutrition, insomnia.
If the bullet hadn't gotten him, he would've dropped dead within the week.
That's very consoling. You got a great bedside manner.
In this business, I need a bedside manner like I need another nose.
He's a friend of yours, huh?
From the same high school. We were on the track team together.
He was a high-strung kid.
I hadn't seen much of him since he started to work for the union.
Kotterwell says it's suicide.
He wouldn't know suicide if it crawled up his ass and died there.
They said Tony killed himself with a 9mm. Bullshit.
I saw him packing a .32. Somebody planted that 9mm on him.
You got any leads?
I know a woman who might help, but I gotta get her away from her husband.
- Ooh. Story of my life. - Heh.
All right. But if I see a cake with 63 candles...
I'll be out the door faster than shit through Secretariat.
This should go well with your meal.
I didn't know you listed photography among your interests.
Is that all you have to say?
The negative's quite poor, isn't it?
The quality of the print seems excellent.
It's a shame the subject wasn't more cooperative.
- Who was he? - His name was Tony Moretti.
He worked for Stringer. They knew your plans for the AWA...
and now they're both dead. Is that clear enough?
What are you planning for the AWA?
Ray, I'm sorry. My manners are...
Sweetheart.
This is Sergeant Jericho Jackson, one of Detroit's finest.
This is Raymond Foss, president of the Auto Workers Alliance.
I'm sure he would be delighted to hear what I have planned.
- Good afternoon, Mr. Foss. - Sergeant.
Too bad you couldn't find a more suitable luncheon companion.
Mrs. Dellaplane, I hope you'll forgive the intrusion.
Good day.
Is he giving you trouble?
His kind of trouble is no trouble at all.
Lesson's over.
Show him to his car.
We're having some problems with O'Rooney...
but we should have him in shape by this Sunday.
Jackson got to Moretti before we did.
It doesn't matter. What could he tell him? He had no proof.
Jackson? No need to. He doesn't know enough...
I say that sounds fine. I believe we can meet that.
Peter, I need to talk to you.
I got a meeting in 14 minutes. I'm on the phone to Italy.
It costs more than your diamond brooch.
- It's important. - This is important.
I say we can meet that. Let's go, please.
It'll just take a second, honey...
It'll be about a couple of weeks, I think.
Will you be leaving, madam? I'll be happy to drive you.
No, thank you. I can do it myself.
- Sergeant. - I was just coming to see you.
- Are you going into town? - I am. Would you like a ride?
I thought you'd never ask.
I couldn't figure out what they were talking about...
but I heard him say the name Moretti.
And he definitely said your name.
He also mentioned a man named O'Rooney.
How they were having trouble with him, but they'd have him in shape by Sunday.
That's gotta be Oliver O'Rooney.
He used to work for your husband, but now he's with the AWA.
- You familiar with the name? - No.
What do you know about Frank Stringer or Lionel Grantham?
Only what I read in the paper.
Peter never mentioned them. He doesn't bring his work home with him.
Except this weekend. He's giving a party for that man we had lunch with.
Raymond Foss? Aren't he and your husband friends?
No, not at all.
In fact, I could've sworn they hated each other.
He's gotta be used to that by now.
I know how you feel about Peter. But you don't know him the way I do.
He may seem greedy and arrogant...
but you don't make it big and remained loved by everyone.
I met him after his first wife died and his son went to prison.
I think the whole experience changed him.
He's not the man you think you know.
What do you think you know about me?
I think you're not so different from Peter.
You're both stubborn. Both intent on getting what you want.
You know, I think Peter admires you a little bit.
Not many people cause him so much trouble and get away with it.
Who says I've gotten away with anything?
Let's get out of here.
- Can you get me into the party? - Not and keep my marriage.
Heh, I cut a fine figure on the dance floor.
At least I would, if your husband didn't have my legs broken.
Why do they call you Action...?
Are you okay?
Go to the police station. I have to catch a cab.
- Hey! - Hey, what are you doing?
Hey, you! I'm talking to you!
Come on, asshole!
Now I got you!
Maybe this wasn't a good idea after all.
Shit.
Oh, shit!
Enough is enough!
You want to shoot me? I'm not packing. Don't shoot me!
Come on! Come on and get me!
Don't shoot me. That's too easy.
Be a man! Come and get me!
I know you killed Tony! Come on, chicken shit!
Come on!
Son of a bitch. Shit.
Where did he go?
I'm afraid to ask.
Uh, dry cleaning.
- Ray Foss is on the line. - I'll take it in my office.
It's the Martinizing that does it.
Did a woman come by for me? Twenty-nine, a blond?
Christ, I thought I dreamed.
What the hell happened to you? Wait.
She left a note.
"I'm gonna tell Peter everything." Jackson, how do you do it?
It's the clothes.
What?
Where the hell is Jackson?
Ladies and gentlemen...
Joey's Club Elite is proud to present...
Sydney Ash!
All my love is for your fun
If you keep me up on the one
I'm so in love with you
For love, honey, I'll undo
I just might take it off real slow
Maybe even turn the lights down low
You control my desire
Undress your love Baby, take me higher
Can you kiss me?
Baby, undress me
Can you kiss me?
Baby, undress
When I wanna rock
I just put my body on the top
You know what I wanna do
It's my game if you wanna play
There's one thing that I wanna say
I never lose
Undo me, baby, don't hold back My love is on the one
Watch me and we can have some fun
You should come and join me, baby
Unwind, darling, and drive me crazy Uh-huh
Get up off of that stump, baby
Can you kiss me?
Baby, undress me
Can you kiss me?
Baby, undress
Good evening, sir.
Here's your .357. It's cleaned and ported.
All right.
Thank you, I'll test it in the morning.
- Cartier? - Sir.
Has madam arrived yet?
No, I'm afraid not, sir.
Will you let me know?
Peter.
I was worried about you, honey.
They said you hadn't come home yet.
I came in through the back door.
Peter, something's wrong.
- What is it? Let's talk about it. - It's Cartier.
I heard him on the phone today.
He was talking about that man Moretti.
The one Sergeant Jackson showed you the picture of?
- You must be mistaken. - No, I'm sure of it.
He said Jackson had gotten to him, but he couldn't tell him anything.
Peter, what's going on?
Do you trust me?
Of course I trust you.
I just... I have to hear you say it.
For me, Peter. Please.
I swear to you, I had nothing to do with anybody's murder.
Not Frank Stringer. Not Lionel Grantham...
or any friend of Jericho Jackson's.
Thank you, Peter.
Patrice, I would never do anything to harm you, baby.
I just hope Sergeant Jackson will understand.
Wait a minute.
You didn't tell Jackson any of this, did you?
He came by right after I overheard the conversation.
But I assured him that you couldn't have been involved.
I knew that you couldn't be.
You wouldn't talk to me. I didn't know what to do.
Please don't hate me for it.
I don't hate you.
I love you.
More than life itself.
Works fine.
- Hi, ladies. - Hi.
Knock yourself out, huh?
May I help you?
I'd like to speak to Miss Ash.
I don't recommend that.
I do. Unh!
You're one big fella. How much do you weigh?
Two hundred seventy pounds.
That's pretty big.
You make a good living, don't you?
Good enough. It helps pay my way through medical school.
If I was to hit you again...
you'd probably slam my body through that wall, wouldn't you?
I was thinking about it.
But it goes against all my Muslim beliefs.
Oh. Good.
I take it you liked my act?
I'm impressed. It takes a lot to get through old Edd.
Not very much, just the end of that table.
- He'll be out for a while. - Heh, you don't know Edd.
And you don't know me.
- You through? - Heh, I'm through singing.
But it's only midnight and the night's barely started.
You wouldn't, by any chance, be a diabetic?
Heh, not the last time I checked.
Let's hasten to your chariot.
My chariot awaits.
Waiting till we're married or something?
I'd just rather a place a little more romantic.
Heh, romantic?
Honey, romance is where you find it.
And I find it wherever and whenever I can.
You must be a priest or something.
I don't even know your name. What's your name?
It's Jericho.
Jericho? Heh.
See, I knew you was a priest. Heh.
Ain't you got a nickname or something?
Some folks used to call me Action.
Action?
Heh, shit, I ain't seen none of that tonight.
Sure wasn't no woman that gave you that name.
Whoo! If that's for me, don't answer it.
This is not good.
Ooh, a parking lot. Now this is real romantic.
Maybe now you'll live up to your name, huh?
Body's been identified as Patrice Dellaplane.
Wife of Peter Dellaplane.
No sign of Jackson.
I don't dig this talk-radio crap. Ain't you got any rap channels?
Now where are we going?
Your place.
Now you're talking.
Well, where is she?
She's in the bedroom.
Where's the bedroom?
Jesus. You really think Action Jackson did it?
Look, I want to put a lid on all this. No press!
Your old partner seems to be a magnet for trouble.
I wouldn't have it any other way.
Women this beautiful don't come around too often.
I've always gotta see them like this.
Come on.
Hey, no lights.
Okay. You're the romantic here.
Hope I live to keep it that way.
Well, I've got the munchies like you wouldn't believe.
Hmm, some cherry pie, ice cream...
So, what have we got?
Hey, come on. Later, okay? Later.
What's wrong? Food not romantic enough for you?
- Do you usually get calls late at night? - I happen to be a very popular girl.
Sweetheart, I'm not kidding. - No. But this is kind of romantic now.
- Jericho, what's going on? - Unh.
That's why we don't answer the phone.
Where we gonna go now?
My car. Come on.
We gotta go back for my purse.
We're going to a hotel.
Um, but my makeup.
Uh, I look terrible.
You look beautiful.
Pardon me?
I said you look fine. We're not going back for your purse.
Jesus, man. This is getting to be real shit.
Where the hell are we now?
You sure travel in weird circles.
- I didn't know a hotel was here. - Neither does anyone else.
For the time being, you can consider the Hotel Hoover your home.
Hoover? Nice name, heh.
- Should be clean anyway. - Yeah.
There. There's the hand that feeds you.
Yabba-dabba-doo.
I dare you to bite it.
- Bite him, Dino. Bite him. Bite him! - Go on! I dare you! I dare you!
All right. That'll hold him.
- Hello! - They stole the bell.
They'd steal me if I wasn't nailed down.
- You son of a bitch. - Heh.
The force may fade...
but the reflex never dies!
If you wanna be alone, I'll wait in the car.
Sydney, I wanna introduce you to an old friend.
Paradise Valley has produced two great fighters:
Joe Louis and Kid Sable.
Pleasure to meet you, Mr. Louis.
Oh, boy.
Got a real fight fan there.
What happened to Detroit's favorite son?
We don't hear your name much anymore.
And all them highfalutin ambitions you had.
She divorced me.
A wife divorce a man at the first sign of trouble ain't much of a wife.
Seem to me, nobody asked you.
Seem to me like you're right.
Vinnie Weldon, remember him? What was it you did to him?
The Sable Surprise.
Soften him up with a right, knock him flat with a left out of nowhere.
But it's the footwork that fooled him.
I need a room on an unoccupied floor. She's got a sweet tooth.
Room 214. We call it the Presidential Suite.
Shower works sometimes. No roaches.
I'll have Einstein bring some breakfast first thing in the morning.
Wasn't the makeup you wanted, was it?
Leave me alone.
Why you doing it?
What else is there?
That's not a good answer.
Jackson, what do you want? Huh?
There's a whole lot of things I do that I don't want to think about.
A shot a day, hey.
I do all the forgetting I need.
Is that good enough for you?
One more chance. Wanna fuck?
No, thanks.
Fine. Good night.
Let me in.
Open the door, Jackson. Believe me, they all look the same.
I got your fix.
Rat poison? Yuck, yuck, yuck.
Everybody's a comedian.
Easy, kid.
You're Action Jackson.
Heh, yeah, right.
Some action.
Fine-looking woman like me, and you don't touch me?
You either gotta be queer or a cop.
I'm not queer.
Sergeant Jericho Jackson, 13th Precinct, City of Detroit.
I wanna get to Dellaplane. You can help.
What's Dellaplane got to do with me?
You kidding? He owns you.
- He rents me. - Six of one, half dozen of the other.
Either way, consider us joined at the hip till I close this case.
Oh, so you need me?
What makes you think I need a junkie like you?
If it weren't for me, you'd be splattered all over your apartment.
Now, hurry up. We got some people to see.
Is it okay if we stop for a fix. Just a little one?
Sorry, Sydney. You're just gonna have to make do.
Oh.
Sorry, Jackson. You're just gonna have to make do.
- Heh. - Son of a bitch.
What the hell have they done to my car?
Do you know how long I've had this car?
Do you know how much work I've put into it?
Do you know how much a prime-conditioned...
'66 Chevy Impala convertible is worth?
Are we gonna play "You Know How"? Because I got a good one.
You know how bad I need a fix?
Why not have your police buddies track the stolen parts?
- Be quiet! - Oh, how foolish of me, expecting...
Excuse me, man. Sorry, man, sorry.
Fuck a duck.
He was an informant named Papa Doc. He worked here.
Did you take my wallet?
Oh, you sure are some kind of a detective.
You could teach Mr. T a thing or two.
With thinking like that, you'll be in the A-Team in no time.
Let's see what Papa Doc can tell us about Dellaplane.
What can I do for you?
I'm looking for Papa Doc. Wonder if he still works here.
Wonder no more.
If you'll hold on a moment, I can lead you to him.
Hold up. Hold up.
I thought we were attached at the hip, huh?
Ah, don't worry.
They give me any smack, I'll be sure to save some for you.
Well, I'll be here if you need me.
- Where is he? - Open it up.
What is it, a secret passage?
Heh. Open it up.
Jar.
- That's Papa Doc? - Heh.
It's his balls.
Damn.
Wake up.
Damn, you a big john.
What?
You think I'm geechie or something?
Don't bogard me, lightfoot. There's nothing we'd like better...
than to take a Tom Slick like you and have a blanket party.
You know something? I don't understand what you're saying.
You're dissing me.
Don't diss me. I'm gonna break it down to you.
See, you be a Charlie Irvine...
and we gonna tap dance on your lips.
And then we gonna deprive you of your...
Your frick and frack.
I don't understand a word of it, do you?
All right, okay. Hey, you, old man.
He ain't giving up no air. I think we have to jam him up his shit.
Hello, my friend.
Hello.
What he was trying to ask you is this:
Why you looking for Papa Doc?
Where is he?
We try this one more time, very slow.
And you watch the bouncing ball.
Why you looking for Papa Doc?
Where is he?
You better answer, man.
You piece of shit.
Papa Doc was a very valuable source of information to us.
A regular Library of Congress.
Unfortunately, like so many libraries...
his books were open to the public.
You ever heard the sound a man makes...
when he gets his balls cut off?
- No. - No?
Then you're in for a big treat.
Because it's hot dog time.
You're gonna sing for us. But the question is...
will you sing as a man?
Or a woman?
Cut him.
What you doing with my brother? Playing doctor?
Get your ass out of here.
You're his sister?
Of course I'm his sister.
Wait a minute! Come here!
The boy ain't driving with a full tank.
Spent a year in Bellevue. Got this delusion he's a holy messenger.
He's more oral than Oral Roberts.
Listen to him.
Yes! Yes, I was sent!
I was sent to bring you down, brother!
I was sent to bust your asses and wipe these streets clean!
- I am the man! - Why looking for Papa Doc?
You may possess his manhood, but his soul's free and clear!
He's got a plate in his head.
Somebody give me an amen!
This motherfucker's crazy, man.
I give myself an amen. Amen! Ha, ha.
Yes, I can hear it!
I can feel it! I can feel it!
Allow me, allow me to lay my healing hand upon you! Yes!
Hey, brother.
Surely you won't leave before you give me an amen?
Amen.
Let's get out of here.
I saved your life back there.
You got it wrong. We saved each other.
Did you think they'd let us out on a song and dance?
I don't know. I'm a pretty fine singer.
Back there you seemed like a fine dancer.
If you're saying we make a team, I beg to differ.
You got something against women?
No. Just against junkies.
You got a quick mind. Ever think you're wasting it?
Gotta remind me? Ain't thought about it in 10 minutes.
- Got that taste back in my mouth. - Come on.
Go on upstairs. Gotta talk to the Kid.
You trust me to go upstairs alone?
Yeah, I guess I do.
Where have you been?
I've been looking for Papa Doc.
I could've saved you time. The man is dead.
His balls is in a jar at Snooker's Pool Hall.
I know. They almost had a little company.
You need a new source of information.
Tell you what to do. Go down to Dee Love's Barbershop...
on the corner of Custer and Saint Antoine. Ask for Dee.
Dellaplane's former partner was a multimillionaire...
and an all-around deviant named Enzo Catelli.
Catelli lived in Rome, and as a defense against kidnapping attempts...
formed an elite group of bodyguards...
which he called "The Invisible Men"...
due to their almost demonic ability...
to remain completely undetected.
- But Catelli's dead, isn't he? - Alas, he had no defense...
against his bodyguard's greed.
Dellaplane financed Catelli's demise.
And the untimely departure of the first Mrs. Dellaplane as well.
He might even have deployed them against you...
but, uh, your demotion made that unnecessary.
Were they also responsible for the AWA killings?
Mm, undeniably so.
Norman was decapitated in an auto accident.
Stringer was defenestrated.
And Grantham joined the debris in the Detroit River. Ha!
It is likely that they intended to denounce Dellaplane and defy...
his determined attempts to devise a power base in the AWA.
But alas, motives are not my department.
Just the delivery of details.
How can I talk to Oliver O'Rooney?
Oh, he can usually be found late at night at the Red Devil.
Unless I am deceived.
Dee, thanks a lot.
- As I said, I can't pay you but... - Oh, oh.
I'm always delighted to help a detective.
Especially the defiantly...
indefatigable Action Jackson.
I'm back.
Sydney?
Damn.
Where's Sydney?
She didn't go by me.
Got a pusher in the building?
I run a respectable hotel.
Calls himself Mr. Quick, room 303.
Easy on the door!
Heh, the rabbi says to the Pope...
Kornblau, please. Put a sock in it, huh?
I got roaches that tell better jokes than you...
and they don't laugh during the punch line all the time. Thank you.
Wasn't that Jackson's car back there?
- Always one when you don't need one. - She's with me, motherfucker!
Bad career move.
Watch your language in front of the lady.
Oh, you don't wanna pull that shit on Action Jackson.
This is Action Jackson?
This will be easier than I thought.
I'm gonna cut you deep, fucker.
Oh, very good. You write your own material?
Your ass is mine.
That's exactly what I was gonna say.
I'm gonna kick your heart and shove it down your throat, you cocksucking...
Fuck you.
I warned you about the language.
It's his car.
Jackson, stay right there!
- Come on. - There's no fire escape.
You gotta learn to leap before you look. One...
Would you like a double bed?
Two...
three!
Jackson!
Why are we running? You're a cop, aren't you?
Of course I am. That's why we're taking this. Get in!
Stop!
Come on!
I could recommend a good bathhouse if you like. Heh.
Stop the car!
Police...! Jackson! Stop!
- Whoa, whoa! - Police!
Police emergency! We're taking your car!
The fuck you are!
Should we run after him?
Kornblau, you ever have your head rammed up your ass?
I don't think so.
Well, mark it on your calendar. That day is coming.
Why haven't you answered my question? Why are we running from the cops?
Dellaplane shot his wife and put the body at my place.
The cops think I did it. Are you gonna help me or not?
Why should I trust you? You're a cop.
You're wanted for murder. Your name is Action?
Give me a break. I need a fix. Give me a few bucks and drop me off.
You won't live long enough to enjoy it.
Dellaplane's gonna kill you too.
- What are you doing? - You want a rush?
I'll give you a rush.
- What do you want? - Help me nail him!
- I don't have to. - Wanna let him kill you?
- Why waste time, this is quicker! - Stop, Jackson!
- You're crazy. - I need your help.
- Stop the car! - I can't do it without you.
- I'll help you! - I didn't hear!
I said all right! I'll help you! I'll do it!
- That wasn't so bad, was it? - Why do I put up with your shit?
It must be my charm and my good looks.
It sure the hell isn't your driving.
He should be in the Red Devil bar.
Get him as far away from Dellaplane as possible.
You understand what to do?
Of course I understand.
Oh. But I feel like shit.
I feel like my teeth are hollow and my gums are made of dry rubber.
And like someone's trying to start a bonfire in the back of my head.
I think I felt that way once.
Heh. They called it love.
- You were married once, weren't you? - Yeah.
- She divorced me two years ago. - Why?
She felt my career was advancing in the wrong direction.
Hey, Jackson.
It's her loss.
Excuse me.
I'm looking for a man named Oliver O'Rooney.
He's over there.
Mind if I join you?
Hmm?
What's a nice girl like you doing here?
I'm not that nice.
Even better.
Dellaplane sent me.
He says he wants to see you.
I don't believe you.
He says it's about tomorrow night.
Here you are, girls. Two beers.
Heh. I can't believe Dellaplane would be up this early.
Is he gonna be there or keep me waiting as usual?
Don't worry about it, okay? He's gonna be there.
Why the hell's he wanna meet me out here?
He probably don't want you smelling up his house.
Where the hell is he?
Come on, come on. Let's go.
How much further?
Couldn't he have met us on the first floor?
I'm sure your convenience is one of his main concerns.
He's up there.
Up here.
You're not Dellaplane.
You know who I am?
You're Jackson, the local boy who didn't make it so good after all.
That's right. Now what's happening tonight?
Party. Party for Raymond Foss.
What's happening there?
Dinner.
Heh. Dancing.
Don't screw around with me.
All right. He's gonna kill Foss.
Why?
So I can take his place.
- So I can be union president. - Who's gonna kill him?
You sure you wanna know?
Do I look like I can't make up my mind? Who?
You are.
Jackson!
I would imagine you have a thousand questions.
So please feel free to ask.
Why do you wanna kill Foss?
Controlling the union won't help your company that much.
That's true, really. If cars were all I cared about...
it wouldn't be worth the effort, would it?
But my cars are just a hobby.
See, my real interest, sergeant...
is power.
And the AWA is more than just a union. It is a power block.
And don't ever underestimate their strength.
For instance, in 1976...
they helped elect a peanut farmer to the highest office...
You're saying we have President Dellaplane to look forward to?
No, not really.
I'm a kingmaker rather than a king.
There's an old cliché that says: "True power rests behind the throne."
We have a government that's proven that cliche true, time and again.
Of course, to implement that kind of power, one must have a tool.
And murder is a tool.
You think, uh, I may like to murder just for the entertainment value.
I have to admit, it's a lot of fun once in a while.
My first wife and my partner had to die because of financial interests.
Patrice, on the other hand, was becoming a problem.
She was beginning to jeopardize my entire operation...
and I couldn't stand for that.
The thing that breaks me up...
is my son.
One day, he may have to join them.
You know...
an altercation in the old prison shower.
That sort of thing happens all the time.
So how are you gonna kill Foss and get away with it? Hmm?
Good question.
Mr. Gamble here will take care of that.
And he will be dressed exactly like you at the time.
To most of my guests...
you all look alike anyway.
They'll assume you're on a mission to kill me...
after your senseless murder of my wife.
And the interesting thing is, your getaway car will crash and burn.
Your charred body will be discovered among the ruins...
and you'll be identified from your dental records.
And the case will be neatly closed.
Immaculate.
Thank you. Thank you very much. I think so too.
That only leaves Sydney.
She will die of an overdose.
But not until I fuck her one last time.
You really shouldn't wear your heart on your sleeve.
It's very unbecoming.
What do you want from me, Dellaplane?
What do you want from me?
I want you to die.
Dellaplane.
One of these days, you're gonna really piss me off.
Thaw, get the gasoline. We're gonna have us a little barbecue.
Tell me where it hurts.
Hello, I'm Mr. Edd.
You called about a paint job?
Chill out.
Shit!
Looking for me?
Barbecue, huh?
How do you like your ribs?
Fine, thank you.
Thank you. Thank you very much.
Thanks.
Thank you, yeah.
Why did you have to bring me?
- You remind me of a friend. - Why not bring him?
He's dead.
Damn, man. Why'd you have to tell me that?
I recommend the crab cake.
Peter, I'm scandalized. There was no one to park our car.
I'm sorry. I'll see to it.
- Please. Nice to see you. - You look wonderful.
Something's wrong. I want you to check out front. Hustle.
Ladies and gentlemen, can I have your attention?
Ladies and gentlemen! Your attention, just for a moment.
I want you to meet our birthday boy...
Raymond Foss! Ray, come on up here and say a few words.
Raymond Foss.
- Run. - Run?
- Run! - Excuse me, sir.
I'm happy to see old friends here...
to celebrate my birthday with me.
When a man gets to be my age...
all that's left are old friends.
Really, this evening...
is the happiest evening of my life.
- Excuse me. Sorry, ma'am. - Ow!
Looks like someone else is having a good time out there. Ha, ha.
Someone should tell that man there's plenty of cake for everyone.
Dellaplane did it! Dellaplane did it!
He planned...
Get out of the way.
Get the chopper. I'll meet you there.
Going someplace?
Hey. You're Kid Sable, aren't you?
You better believe it, brother.
Excuse me, sir.
I hope this teaches you, crime doesn't pay.
Huh?
Jackson!
Where do you think you're going?
You gonna take me in?
Any reason why I shouldn't?
Jackson! Jackson!
- Fuck it. - Thanks.
Easy, baby.
Get out of the way!
You lose.
Hot.
Hotter.
- Hottest! - Christ!
You haven't learned your lesson?
Teach me.
Just shoot him.
Jackson, what are you doing? Just shoot the son of a bitch.
Jackson, what are you doing?
Jackson, don't do it.
Now you pissed me off.
- How did he miss? - He didn't.
Are you all right?
Hell, no. I've been shot.
Check him out.
How bad is it?
Oh. This is one dead piece-of-shit car builder. Heh.
I want the paramedics and a meat wagon down here right away.
I want a full report on my desk first thing in the morning.
- In the morning? - In the morning, lieutenant.
Lieutenant?
- Lieutenant? - Is there an echo around here?
You always said you wouldn't team up with a junkie.
How about an ex-junkie, huh?
Wait a minute. You kidding?
Cold turkey. You can have me on Thanksgiving. How's that?
Can I have you any sooner?