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.. Scénář - 47. epizoda - Jízdní polda a a duše (Mountie And Soul) ..

[A neighborhood gym is set up for a boxing match. Most spectators wear either purple or yellow articles of clothing. Some sit in stands, some stand on overhead catwalks. Fraser and Ray walk toward the ring.]

Ray: No, no, no, Fraser, trust me. You don't know this world. It's got its own code, it's own rules, its own lingo -

Fraser: You may be surprised, Ray. I am not unaccustomed to programs designed to help disadvantaged youths. As a matter of fact -

Ray: These youths aren't disadvantaged. They're gang members, okay? This gets them off the streets, gives them something positive to do, blows off a little steam.

Fraser: Well I fail to see the difference between that and the wildfowl rescue program that I helped organize in -

Ray: You want to know the difference? In this program, you try to separate your opponent from his head.

Fraser: Ah. Pugilism.

Ray: Not pugilism, Fraser. It's boxing. And remember about the lingo. [a young man approaches] Uh, Levon, this is my friend Fraser.

Levon: Hey Fraser, what's up?

Fraser: Well, the Chicago Mercantile Exchange is up, uh, Ray's hair is up.

Ray: He's Canadian.

Levon: Oh man, shout out.

Ray: Shout out. Funny.

Fraser: Ah.

Francesca: Hi, Fraser.

Fraser: Ah. Francesca.

[Ray and Levon move off toward the ring. Dief whines.]

Francesca: What's with him?

Fraser: Oh, he won't speak to me.

Francesca: How come?

Fraser: Well, the alarm clock went off at five and he refused to budge so I reprimanded him for being slothful.

Francesca: Five? Isn't that, like, dark?

Fraser: Yes.

Levon: Yeah, look at it. I'll be up there. I'll be dancin', messin' my man's face all up.

Ray: That's- that's a- that's a good attitude. Now, boom-boom, dance yourself back to the locker and don't get too cocky.

Levon: I'm not cock-

Ray: Don't get too cocky.

Levon: I'm not cocky. I'm the best.

[Levon passes Fraser on his way to the locker room.]

Fraser: Good luck, son.

Levon: Yeah.

[Francesca and Fraser join Ray ringside.]

Francesca: The guy wins a couple of little league fights, thinks he's Muhammad Ali.

Ray: Look, you wanted to come, Francesca, I said you could come but I did not say you could criticize.

Francesca: It's just a little comment, bro.

Ray: And it wasn't little league, it was, uh, Community League, and it wasn't a couple of fights, it was all of 'em.

Francesca: Whatever.

Ray: He's the best fighter I ever trained.

Francesca: Isn't he the only fighter you ever trained?

Ray: Yeah, and tonight he fights against a pro and if he wins he could be goin' all the way.

Fraser: All the way to where?

Ray [climbs into the ring, tripping over the ropes, then shadow boxes]: Up the, uh, up the ranks, uh, to the top. What do you think? Ooh-ooh-ooh.

Boom-boom-boom-boom. Boom-boom. Ummm.

Voices from spectators: Look at the Great White Hope. . .What's he doing? What's he doing with that?

Ray: I still got all the moves. I coulda been- I coulda been- I coulda been -

Francesca: A contender?

Ray: Yeah. How'd you know?

Francesca: Lucky guess.

Fraser: I wasn't aware that you'd had a boxing career, Ray.

Ray: Ah, it wasn't exactly a career. It was more of a -

Francesca: A disaster?

Fraser: A hobby?

Francesca: A meltdown?

Fraser: Pastime?

Francesca: Nightmare?

Ray: Look, you're both very very funny. But, uh, I had to quit when I, uh, got married to Stella cuz she didn't think it was, uh, what's the, uh-?

Francesca: Civilized?

Ray: That's it.

Francesca: Yeah.

Man: Yo, Ray!

[A group of young men wearing yellow approach.]

Ray: Hey.

Man: Yeah, man, we're gonna show 'em tonight?

Ray: You know it, Holmes.

Man: Yeah.

[The group moves on.]

Francesca: And those would be?

Ray: Uh, fans.

Fraser: Fans?

Ray: Cabrini Gangsters. Levon's gang.

[Taunts echo back and forth among the spectators.]

Fraser: And I would imagine those would also be fans?

Ray: The Rollin' 22's. The other guy's, uh, gang.

Fraser: I see. So. . . so each fighter then comes equipped with his own gang?

[Ray and Fraser walk with the opposing trainer and his assistant back toward the lockers.]

Devlin: Vicchio, are you sure you want to do this? My boy's pretty good.

Ray: It's Vecchio. So's mine.

Devlin: Well, you know I've trained a few, but Deron could be the best ever.

Ray: Oh yeah? Better than Sugarman?

Devlin: Bigger and faster. I wouldn't want your boy to get hurt.

Fraser: Ray, could you tell me please, this Sugarman - is that a first name or a last name?

[Devlin and his assistant look at Fraser.]

Devon: Where you from?

Ray: This is Constable Benton Fraser. He-first-came-to-Chicago-on-the-killers-of-his-father-he's-Canadian-you-don't-want-to-know. Bare knuckle fighter.

Fraser: Well, no, Ray, I only wrestle bears.

Devlin: Okay. Good luck.

[Devlin and his assistant leave; Ray and Fraser continue on.]

Ray: He's trying to psych me. Franco Devlin is trying to psych me.

Fraser: That's a good thing, I take it?

Ray: Umm, it's fantastic! He's a legend. He's one of the great trainers. And he's trying to psych me? That means his guy's in trouble. If his guy's in trouble, that means we got a shot.

Fraser: Who is the Sugarman?

Ray: He was going to be the next heavyweight champion of the earth. Devlin trained him 'til he got big, then Sugarman dumped him.

Fraser: Why?

Ray: He got a guy with more juice from ICF. Devlin's great at developing a fighter but he's not that good at building a career.

Fraser: You seem to know a lot about this.

Ray: Uh, sure, I read Ring World every week.

Fraser: Now let me see if I've got this straight, Ray. When he said his fighter was bigger and -

[Ray puts his index finger to his lips.]

Fraser [softly]: Bigger and stronger than the Sugarman, was he lying?

Ray: Uh, if he wasn't we're sunk, cuz nobody's bigger and faster than the Sugarman.

Fraser: Ahh.

[The fighters are in the ring for introductions. The other fighter says something to Levon. Ray and Fraser watch from ringside near Levon's corner.]

Fraser: He's very big.

Ray: Yeah, well, it's not about size, Fraser. It's, uh, you know, it's, uh, speed, uh, what's in the brain plate. It's psychology, you know?

Fraser: Ah.

[Levon returns to his corner.]

Ray: What'd he- what'd he say to you?

Levon: He said he loved me.

Ray: Look at him, look at him. He's a freak. He does not love you. He wants to kill you.

Levon: Umm-hmm.

Ray: Okay, so, you stick and move, stick and move.

Announcer: Round One.

[Bell rings for round 1.]

Ray: Let's go, let's go, let's go. . . on your toes, on your toes, on your toes. . . Levon, let's go, let's go. . . come on. . . keep your eye. . . [to Fraser] He's really fast.

Fraser: He's really big.

Ray: He's really big and really fast. [to Levon] Up, up, up, up. . .shake it off, shake it off, come on, shake it off.

[In the stands, Welsh sits with Francesca.]

Welsh: Get the hot dog guy?

Francesca: You can eat? They're bleeding up there.

Welsh: Blood never spatters this far.

[Bell ends round 1.]

Ray [pulls out stool for Levon]: Let's go, let's go, let's go.

Levon: He's killin' me.

Ray: Nah, you're doin' great.

Levon [to Fraser, who is liberally sponging water over his head]: He's killin' me, right?

Fraser: Yes, it would appear so.

Ray: You know, you just keep runnin' around, runnin' around, tire him out. Fraser, don't drown my fighter.

Fraser: Oh, right you are, Ray.

Levon: The ring is only built so big.

Ray: Yeah, but every step he takes is killin' him. So you just keep him movin'. You just keep him movin', okay?

[Bell sounds for round 2.]

Welsh [in stands]: Yo, hot dog here!

[Levon goes down]

Ray: Come on, up, up, up, up, up. Let's go, let's go, shake it off, shake it off. . . Levon, shake it off, let's go.

Francesca [in stands]: Come on, hit him!

Ray: Let's go. . . wow. . . move out of the corner, move-move-move-move, run away, run away from -

[Bell ends round 2.]

Ray: Let's go, let's go, let's go. That's great, Levon. You're wearin' him down. You just stay outta the corner. You go to him. Remember, you keep movin', keep movin', weave, weave. . .

[Bell sounds for round 3.]

Ray [to Fraser]: Fraser, he would have hated himself if I didn't send him back in there, okay?

Fraser: I see.

Ray: Okay, he takes one good punch, we throw in the towel.

Fraser: Do you have a towel?

[The other fighter is suddenly unsteady; Levon takes advantage.]

Ray: Yeah, yeah, yeah!

Francesca [in stands]: Come on! Hit him again!

Ray: Move on, move on. . .

Welsh: Yeah!

Ray: Kill 'im, kill 'im, kill 'im.

[Bell ends round 3.]

Ray: Yeah!

Welsh [in stands]: Yeah, yeah!

[The other fighter kneels, supported by the ropes, unmoving; everyone becomes aware something is wrong.]

Levon [to doctor working on Deron]: He'll be okay, right?

Doctor: Don't know yet.

Jamal: Keep away from him!

Levon: What?

Devlin [to Jamal]: You want to do some good, you stick with your brother.

Jamal: Step off, old man.

Devlin's assistant: Don't touch Franco.

Devlin [softly to Ray]: This is not a good place for your guy to be.

Welsh [pushes way into crowded ring]: There's no more to see! Clear it out! Get your butts out of here! Come on!

[Levon, Ray, Fraser, and Devlin are in the locker room.]

Levon: He was killin' me! He was! I- I couldn't even hit him. Then he just kinda got shaky and I started to get some shots in. I shoulda known he was sick. I shoulda quit.

Ray: Look, it wasn't your fault.

Levon: Wasn't nobody else in there hit him.

Devlin: You were both there to fight. You both knew there were risks.

Levon: I could have eased up on that last punch, you know. But I was thinkin', if- if- if I could shake him up a little, if I just hit him in the head a couple times, if I. . .

Devlin: Son, son, son. I've seen a lot of fights and a lot of vicious fighters. You're not one of them. Now what happened out there was an accident, plain and simple. You don't want to be beatin' yourself up over that. [turns to Ray] I better get to the hospital. You take care of your fighter.

Ray: Yes, sir.

Devlin: Levon, it was a fair fight. You remember that.

[Devlin leaves.]

Levon: I gotta see him.

Ray: Levon, I'm not sure that's such a good idea.

Levon: I gotta know how he is.

Fraser: Perhaps it would be a better idea to wait until tempers have cooled down a little.

Levon: Look, you don't know my hood, man. Things don't get cool there.

Ray: Well that's another good reason not to go to the hospital.

Levon: I gotta know.

Ray: All right, I'll go with you. Okay?

Levon: All right.

Ray: Okay?

Levon: Okay.

[Outside the building several gang members are still standing around.]

Ray: Jamal, how's your brother doin'?

Jamal: Don't be steppin' to me like you care.

Levon: I care.

Jamal: You won. That's what it's about, right?

Fraser: Surely it's about more than that. It should be about competition and fair play.

Jamal: It's about winnin'. Everybody knows that. You win, you move up. You lose, you go down.

Levon: How's he doin'? How's Deron doin'?

Jamal: Well, he's got some kinda coma thing. They don't even know if he'll make it or not. Which makes him a loser. Big time.

Levon: Hey, look, I know you're not gonna believe this, but I'm really sorry.

Jamal: You don't know what sorry is yet, chump. What you gonna? [Levon turns to leave.] Don't you do that.

[fight ensues but ends when Ray pulls out badge and gun and shoots a few rounds into the air]

Ray: Chicago PD! Hit the dirt! Hit the dirt! [looks around] Where's Levon?

Fraser: Where's Jamal?

Ray [to men on ground]: Stay!

[At the station, they place two handcuffed gang members in front of the desk sergeant.]

Fraser: All I'm saying, Ray, is that Jamal had a point.

Ray: On the top of his head.

Fraser: No, the emphasis on winning over everything else tends to exacerbate the dangers of boxing.

Ray: What is that supposed to mean? Is that because I said 'kill him'? This is lingo, this is what I'm talking about. When I said 'kill him,' I, you know, meant 'hit him.' 'Win.' Not 'kill him.'

Desk Sergeant: Detective Vecchio?

Fraser: I know that and I'm certainly not trying to suggest that you were encouraging a homicide -

Desk Sergeant: Guys?

Ray: Levon is a good kid. I mean, he wasn't tryin' to kill anybody. I mean, you box, you get hurt. That is just par for the course.

Fraser: Well if that's the case, then perhaps protective helmets would be a good idea.

Desk Sergeant: Are you booking these buys or are they just part of some colorful parade?

Ray: Yeah, yeah, we're bookin' 'em. [turns back to Fraser] Helmets?

[Ray and Fraser are walking through the station corridors.]

Ray [laughing]: Come on, Fraser, you're not serious about this helmet thing.

Fraser: Well, why not?

Ray: Because it's the sweet science. Boom-boom-boom. It's an art. You'd put a helmet on an artist? I think not.

Fraser: Well, no, but artists don't tend to get hit in the head on a regular basis, although you know, it is widely rumored that Hieronymus Bosch used to repeatedly bang his skull into his easel to stimulate his vision.

Ray: I love that but think about auto racing. I mean, they make it safe, what's the point?

Fraser: What are you saying? That the point is the danger?

Ray: No, boxing is the point. Danger is just a part of it.

Fraser: Well you know, if they wore protective helmets it would minimize the danger.

Ray: You're so-so-so - umm! - Canadian.

Fraser: It's just logic, Ray.

Ray: Logic, exactly. Boxing has nothing to do with logic. It is sport taken down to its purest nut. It's muscles, sweat, guts, torque, load. I mean, you ever meet a logical person who would bite off another man's ear?

Fraser: That's just another argument for protective helmets - with ear flaps.

Ray: You admit that I'm right or I'll pop you in the head.

Fraser: We're not dealing with logic now, are we?

Ray: Logic, smogic. Admit I'm right or I'll pop you.

Fraser: Oh, well, gee, in that case, Ray, I guess you're right.

Ray: Thank you very much. [turns to go] Levon's got a buddy up on, uh, Vacuum Street.

Fraser: You mean Hoover?

Ray: Hoover Street. . . It's going to be a long night.

[A rooster crows as they re-enter station along the same corridor they left.]

Francesca: Hey, you guys have a long night?

Ray: Ummmm.

Fraser: Good morning, Francesca.

Francesca: Hi, Fraser. Can I get you a coffee? Tea? Foot massage?

Ray: No thanks, Francesca. Look, can you call the hospital, see if Deron is doin' okay?

Francesca: I called ten minutes ago. There's no change. [to Fraser as Ray goes to his desk] Neck rub?

Fraser: Well, no, thank you kindly. Maybe, uh, maybe next week. [follows Ray]

Ray: Come on! Where the hell is he?

Fraser: Well, we know that he didn't go home.

Ray: Okay -

Welsh: Vecchio!

Ray: Yeah?

Welsh: I want you to pick up Levon Jefferson.

Ray: Yeah, we been trying to do that all night, sir.

Welsh: Why is that?

Ray: Jamal Martin and a bunch of his pals jumped us and he split.

Fraser: We think Martin may still be after him.

Welsh: Well that's unlikely. A patrol car just found Martin dead in an alley. Just pick up Jefferson. Suspicion of homicide.

[In the morgue, Mort is singing Italian opera as he pulls the sheet down, exposing Jamal's upper body]

Ray: Aww. Ugly.

Welsh: Yeah, he got a pretty good working over.

Mort: At least this one is nice and fresh. You should see them after three, four days in here.

Ray: Mort, come on.

Mort: Squeamish?

Ray: Human. You wouldn't know anything about that.

Mort: It's the live ones that make me squeamish.

Ray: Look, can you give an estimated time of departure?

Mort: Give me a moment. [sings a little more] I'd say between 9 p.m. last night and 4 a.m. this morning.

Ray: Well that's really accurate, Mort, cuz we saw him around 10.

Mort: Why, that narrows it down a bit, doesn't it?

Ray: Look, Levon didn't do this.

Welsh: What makes you say that?

Ray: Cuz I know the kid.

Welsh: Yeah. Maybe I should put Jack and Dewey on this case -

Ray: No, no, no, no you don't. I'll bring him in.

Welsh: His knuckles there - he looks like he's been punchin' a concrete wall.

Mort: Oh, yes. He fought hard.

Welsh: And his face. You think the average guy on the street could do that kind of damage?

Mort: No. No, it needs a lot of skill and strength.

Welsh: Right. A boxer.

Ray: I didn't say he wasn't able to do it. I said he wouldn't do it.

Welsh: Look, I'd like to take your word for it, Detective, but the prosecuting attorney's office is going to want a little more than that.

Ray: Fraser, I said no tasting stuff in the morgue. [Fraser tastes the sole of Jamal's shoe.] Ach, that's sick. You get that? I don't get that. That's--

Mort: Is that a new method? Did you find something?

Fraser: Bok choy.

Welsh: Yeah. We found him behind a Chinese restaurant. There was garbage all over the place.

Ray: You see? You see? You don't have to go tasting a dead guy's stuff to be a cop. We knew that already.

Fraser [picks up a plastic bag containing a small pill bottle]: Furosemide?

Mort: Diuretic.

Fraser: Was he taking it?

Mort: Maybe.

Ray: Can you test for it?

Mort: I could. Well, I have to go in. Why would I do it?

Ray: Because, uh. . . uh, Fraser, why?

Fraser: There's no compelling reason. Oh, never mind. We don't really need to know.

Ray: Fraser? A word with you for a second?

[They step out into the hallway, then make their way to the bullpen.]

Ray: Look, Fraser, don't hang me out to dry like that.

Fraser: Like what, Ray?

Ray: Don't ask if the guy was taking diur-s-whatever and when I ask him about doing some tests go, oh never mind, nobody needs to know anyway.

Fraser: I'm sorry.

Ray: Well sorry doesn't cut it, Fraser. I'm a detective and a detective's gotta have credibility with guys like Mort. You pull a little stunt like that and I lose face.

Fraser: Well I think you have a surfeit of face, Ray.

Ray: Francesca, can you get Tony Miller in here, please?

Fraser [catches Dief begging goodies from Frannie]: Dief.

Francesca: You got a number?

Ray: Uh, he's in the phone book under Cabrini Gangsters.

Fraser: Gangsters are in the phone book?

Ray: If they got a phone, they're in the book. [turns to Huey's desk] Huey, can you make this call for me? It's Winona Jefferson. That's Levon's aunt.

He lives there. See if he came home.

Huey: Ray-Ray-Ray-Ray.

Ray: What?

Huey: I need your advice on something. Let's say you knew someone. Maybe even a friend.

Ray: Right.

Huey: Hypothetically speaking, let's say this friend had an odor.

Ray: What kind of odor?

Huey: Bacon bits and fish.

Ray: Are you talking about your stinky partner?

Huey: You noticed him, huh?

Ray: Yeah. What's the question?

Huey: Well, am I obligated to tell him?

Ray: No. You're obligated to hose him down. Fraser, come on, let's go.

Fraser: We're off to look for Levon? [holds door open for Ray and waits for Dief to follow]

Ray: No, the people who are looking for him.

Fraser: Ah. Dief? [Dief's attention is still on Frannie] Dief-Dief-Dief. Would you mind?

[Ray parks outside a nondescript brick warehouse-type building; several young men stand watch outside the door.]

Ray: Okay, we gotta be kinda polite here.

Fraser: That's right up my alley, Ray. Dief? [lets Dief out of the back seat]

Ray: No. This is, uh, a special kind of polite. It's like, uh, a lingo thing.

Fraser: Ahh. I understand. [observes the others] They're wearing headsets,

Ray. It seems kind of organized for a street gang, isn't it?

Ray: Well, this is the USA. This is, you know, they got equal opportunity. They got upward mobility now.

Fraser: Good day, gentlemen.

Man #1: That's a bad ass outfit.

Fraser [turns his back to the man and whispers to Ray]: They insulted the uniform.

Ray: Uh, he meant good. Bad means good. He digs the uniform.

Fraser: Oh. You mean, it's the lingo thing. Sort of flip flop?

Ray: Yeah.

Fraser: Understood. [turns back to the man] Yes, sir, it is bad. It is red serge and it represents the queen.

Man #1: Oh, the queen.

Fraser: Umm-hmm.

Man #1: That's cool.

Fraser: Thank you kindly.

Ray: We're here to see Duval Edwards.

Man #2: Yeah, yeah. You are?

[Ray reaches inside his jacket and immediately they all reach for their weapons. When Ray merely pulls back his jacket so they can see his badge pinned to his shoulder holster, they relax again.]

Man #2: Aww, you got one of those. You got one in a cereal box. I'm thinkin' we're gonna squeeze Mr. Heat in a few hours so we don't suck.

Fraser: Sir, we understand we don't have an appointment, but we were hoping that you would be able to accommodate us.

Man #2: 'Commodate you?

Fraser: Hopefully, yes.

[general laughter]

Ray: Holmes, can I have a word with you?

Man #2: Aright. Aright.

[They step off a few steps as Fraser speaks with the others]

Ray: Hey, boom, this is straight up. I mean, I'm Starsky, he's Hutch. . .

Fraser: This is known as the Sam Browne. In particular, this is the lanyard.

Ray: Now, I showed you our colors, flashed our badges, you know. We're not going to be any trouble. We just want to talk to him for ten minutes.

Man #2: Yeah, so what's it worth?

[Ray pulls out some bills. Man #2 pockets the money and speaks softly into his headset]

Fraser: Let's say you're pursuing a criminal on horseback. Should you lose control of your weapon, you don't have to dismount. You see, you simply scoop it up and there, presto, you have it in your hand again. It's something you gentlemen might want to consider.

Man #1: Yeah. [opens the door and Ray, Fraser and Dief enter]

Fraser [to Ray]: Nice lads.

Man #1 [closes the door behind them]: He's crazy, man.

[Ray and Fraser take a warehouse elevator to descend several floors to the basement]

Ray: This dire-thingy. What is that?

Fraser: It's a drug that increases the rate of urine formation in the kidneys.

Ray: Is that good?

Fraser: For some medical conditions, yes.

Ray: So you think he was sick and that was what killed him?

Fraser: No, no. No, I'm quite certain he was beaten to death.

Ray: Then why'd you ask for a. . .? Forget it.

Fraser: Ray, maybe you can help me with this lingo thing. Is there by any chance a reference book for it?

Ray: No reference book. It's street. Like that stuff at the door. Certain words are flip, like bad means good.

Fraser: What if something's bad?

Ray: That's just bad.

Fraser: Isn't that confusing?

Ray: To a Mountie, yeah.

Fraser: Ahh.

Ray: See, 'fly' is good. 'That's the bomb' is great.

Fraser: Oh, I see. So I could say, for instance, Ray, my very good friend, you're a flying bomb.

Ray: Nah, that doesn't work. Uh, example: Holmes better keep it real, cuz we're just up for the 411. We don't want him to go the whole nine yards and pull his gat and bang-bang put a cap in us, you know, cuz we'd be down on a 187.

Fraser: I see. And a 187 is?

Ray: Dead.

Fraser: Dead. Ahh.

[They step off the elevator and into a club complete with music, tables, waitresses, a few patrons, and game tables. Dief jumps up on a pool table; a man notices him, then moves over to Ray and Fraser.]

Edwards: We don't allow dogs.

Fraser: Well, actually he's half wolf.

Edwards: That's better?

Ray: The wolf's cool. A couple of your guys tried to take our heads off last night.

Edwards: Our guys?

Ray: Well, they were wearing Rollin' 22 colors.

Edwards: You know, all the wrong people seem to be getting those jackets.

Ray: Jamal was hangin' with them.

Edwards: Oh, so this is where Jamal gets killed.

Ray: No, this is about Levon Jefferson not getting killed.

Edwards: You gotta understand, the guys take things like this kinda hard. Jamal had a lot of friends in the 22s. I mean, he was heading up our youth program.

Fraser: Youth program. That's commendable.

Edwards: Well, you know, we try to give a little something back to the community.

Ray: Right, in return for all the drug money you take out of it. The thing is, Levon did not kill Jamal.

Edwards: Sure, and he had nothing to do with Deron going to the hospital.

Ray: What, all we want you to do is talk to your guys and get 'em to chill.

Edwards: You gotta understand. We got 28,000 members. I mean, some days I don't even get to talk to all of 'em.

Fraser: 28,000? That's the population of Moosejaw.

Edwards: Canadian.

Fraser: Yes. How did you know?

Edwards: Lucky guess.

Fraser: Ahh.

[He begins to slowly walk them through the club.]

Edwards: We're thinking of branching out up there.

Fraser: Really? You know, I'm not sure my government would look too favorably upon that.

Edwards: See now? That's the problem with you Canadians and this stink called free trade. I mean, you guys want access to our markets and still try to protect your own.

Fraser: You know, I'm not so sure it's really a question of trade as much as it is a moral issue. I mean, the fact that you are involved in criminal activity - selling drugs, for instance - oddly, that's something we frown upon north of the 49th parallel.

Edwards: Oh, there's always some excuse.

Ray: Did you see Jamal last night?

Edwards: And what if I did?

Ray: When?

Edwards: Around 10:30, maybe a little after.

Fraser: After we encountered him. Hmm. This could be helpful. How much time did you spend with him?

Edwards: Not long. I mean, we had some business to go through.

Ray: Did he happen to say where he was going after?

Edwards: To the gym. To get some stuff out of his brother's locker.

[He opens a door, ushers them out, closes the door behind them. A moment later, it opens again and Dief comes out.]

[At Devlin's gym a man is sparring with Devlin's assistant. Devlin is watching and Ray and Fraser join him.]

Ray: One of yours?

Devlin: Yep.

Ray: He's good.

Devlin: Are you pounding sand or are you just dumb? The boy stinks.

Fraser: Well, he looks strong.

Devlin: Strong don't mean nothin'. Look around. They're all strong. You gotta have the head for it or you'll never be a fighter. Look at him. He's showing everything. He's openin' up after every shot. Hell, I could beat him. [calls to men in ring] Mason, step it up! Aw, cover up, cover up! He's hittin' you with everything he's got! [the men stop when it's obvious the other is beaten] Go work the heavy bag. That can't hit you back.

[Mason, Devlin's assistant, joins them ringside.]

Fraser: That's quite a nasty cut you have there.

Mason: It ain't nothin'.

Fraser [reaches into his belt pouch]: Well, still, maybe a little antibiotic ointment will do the trick here.

Mason: I said it ain't nothin'. [He stalks off.]

Ray: Where'd you get that, Fraser?

Fraser: Oh, it's not important.

Devlin: He's just embarrassed 'cause that kid cut him.

Fraser: I understand. Although, you know, judging from the granulation at the edge of the wound, it would appear to be an old injury.

Ray: Did you see Jamal Martin last night?

Devlin: Not after the fight.

Ray: Somebody whacked him.

Devlin: Jamal? Why?

Fraser: That's what we're trying to determine, sir. We think he may have come back here to collect his brother's things.

Devlin: That's easy enough to find out.

[They go to the locker room. Devlin opens one.]

Devlin: That's Deron's locker.

Ray: Looks like Jamal never got here.

Fraser: Looks that way, doesn't it? [pulls out a jacket and looks at it] Hmm. What do you think, Diefenbaker? [holds it down for Dief to sniff; Dief whines] My thought exactly. [puts the jacket to his mouth]

Devlin: What are you doing?

Ray: Don't ask.

Fraser: Hmm.

Ray: Is that like a good hmm or a bad hmm?

Fraser: Like a soy sauce hmm.

[Ray and Fraser walk through the corridors at the station.]

Ray: So Deron was in the alley. . . No, Deron was in the hospital. Jamal picked up Deron's clothes and took them to the alley. Somebody killed him, then stole the clothes, and put them back in the locker? That's D-U-M dumb.

Fraser: Well, there is another possibility.

[Ray's cell phone rings]

Ray: What's that?

Fraser: Deron liked Chinese food.

Ray: Yeah, I like Chinese food. Let's go for some. [puts phone to ear] Yeah, Vecchio.

Levon: They're after me!

Ray: Stay put. We'll be right there.

[Four gang members chase Levon into a field near some rundown buildings. They catch him just as Ray and Fraser arrive. Ray pulls his gun and fires several times into the air, frightening off the attackers. Ray and Fraser run to where Levon is picking himself up.]

Levon: Oh, man! Am I glad to see you! You really saved my butt.

Ray: Fraser, I can't.

Fraser: You have no choice, Ray.

Ray: You are under arrest for the murder of Jamal Martin.

Levon: Say what?

Fraser: You are under arrest for the murder of Jamal Martin.

Ray: You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say may be held against you in a court of law. If you cannot afford a lawyer, one will be appointed to you.

[Huey and Dewey interrogate Levon as Ray, Welsh, Francesca and Fraser look on through the observation window.]

Dewey: Where were you between 10 and 4 last night?

Levon: I already told you. I was on the street movin'.

Huey: You were hiding from the 22s, weren't you?

Levon: Yeah. Hidin'.

Dewey: But only they found you, didn't they? Jamal Martin found you. . .

Ray [softly]: Come on, ease up on him. He's just a kid.

Dewey: I'm talking to you, kid.

Levon: I didn't see nobody. . .

Francesca: Wow, they're really broiling him.

Ray: Grilling, Francesca. It's grilling.

Francesca: Grilling, broiling, pan frying. I think you know what I mean, Mr. Vocabulary. [she turns to leave, but pauses by Fraser on her way out] Hi, Fraser.

Fraser: Francesca.

Huey: How can we help you if you're lying too?

Levon: I'm not lying. I didn't do anything.

Dewey: No, you just beat a guy to death. . .

Ray: Come on, they can't do that. [moves toward the door]

Welsh: Where're you going?

Ray: In there.

Welsh: No, you're not. You're far too personally involved.

Ray: Personally involved cuz I don't want them to torture a kid?

Welsh: They're not doing anything you wouldn't do.

Dewey: You put one guy in the hospital, didn't you? You did that . . .

Ray: Right. . . Good one. [he leaves]

Huey: We know he took it bad. He went after you. . .

Fraser: I'm sure he didn't mean that, sir.

Welsh: I'm sure he didn't.

Levon: I didn't do anything. I already told you. I was on the street movin'.

[Fraser leaves]

[in bullpen]

Francesca: Hi, Fraser.

Fraser: Ah, Francesca. Have you, uh, have you seen Ray?

Francesca: Yeah. He said he was going some place to think, whatever mythical place that might be.

Fraser: Ah.

Francesca: Ahh, is that all?

Fraser: Yes. Thank you. Kindly.

Francesca: Bye, Fraser.

Fraser: Dief?

[At Devlin's gym, Ray is working out on a punching bag.]

Fraser: I thought I'd find you here.

Ray: He's a good kid, Fraser. A great kid.

Fraser: Nevertheless, Ray, it was your duty to arrest him.

Ray: It was my fault. I got him all hyped for the fight. I trained him.

Fraser: Yes. But Ray, you couldn't possibly have foreseen what was going to happen inside that ring.

Ray: I should have left him alone. I should have told him to stop.

Fraser: I wish there was something I could do to make you feel better.

Ray: You want to make me feel better?

[Both Ray and Fraser are in the ring, fully equipped; Devlin and Mason watch. Dief watches atop a stool pulled up beside the ring.]

Ray: Come on, Fraser, let's get ready to rumble.

Fraser: Right you are.

[Ray skips around Fraser several times, throwing jabs that Fraser always dodges. Fraser pivots in place, arms set in classic boxing pose.]

Ray: What are you doin', Fraser?

Fraser: I'm sparring.

Ray: No you're not. I'm sparring. You're standing there like a. . . Mountie.

Fraser: Well, I am a Mountie.

Ray: I know that, Fraser, but you got to try to hit me.

Fraser: Well, I'd really rather not.

Ray: You'd rather not. I don't care what you'd rather not do. Just do it.

Fraser: Why would I want to hit a friend, Ray?

Ray: It's traditional in this sport. Come on, just try to hit me. Come on.

Fraser: No thank you.

Ray: Hit me.

Fraser: No.

Ray: Hit me.

Fraser: No.

Ray: Hit me.

Fraser: No.

Ray: Hit me.

Fraser: No.

Ray: Hit me.

[Fraser relents and connects with Ray's face. Ray staggers back and Fraser rushes to him.]

Fraser: I'm sorry. Are you all right?

Ray: I wasn't ready.

Fraser: You see, you'd probably really benefit more by doing this with a professional. I mean, there are certain drawbacks to being Canadian.

Devlin: You might make a pretty fair fighter. You got the head for it.

Ray: Thank you very much.

Devlin: Not you. The Mountie.

Fraser: You know, it might cheer you up a whole lot more, Ray, if you sparred with Mr. Dixon.

Ray: I'm game for it if he is.

Mason [to Devlin]: Okay?

[Devlin and Fraser stand at ringside. Fraser bends close to Dief, who still sits on the stool.]

Fraser: You know, there really was no cause for worry. But I must say I do appreciate your concern. It's been very rare these days.

Devlin: Don't worry. Mason won't hurt him. Much.

Ray: Owch.

Fraser: Has there been any change in Deron's condition?

Devlin: Nothing. I wudn't tryin' to psych out your friend, you know. Deron might be the best I ever trained. He could have gone all the way.

Fraser: You don't think perhaps he was a little heavy?

Devlin: What are you talking about? He was a heavyweight.

Fraser: So he wasn't concerned then with keeping down his weight.

Devlin: The opposite. The kid worked so hard it was tough to keep the weight on him. He's a good loyal kid, too. He would have stuck with me. Not like the others.

[In the locker room, Ray is sitting on a bench trying to put on his t-shirt. Dief is sitting by his knees; Fraser stands a few feet away.]

Fraser: So. Now you've sparred.

Ray: Yes, Fraser, I have sparred.

Fraser: And you feel better?

Ray: Yeah, I feel better.

Fraser: Mentally and spiritually, I presume, because your physical condition is truly appalling.

Ray: I'm good.

Fraser: Ah. You don't want to talk about it. It's perfectly understandable. I mean, after all, the core of pugilism is really a mental and spiritual quest, isn't it, sort of like mountaineering or marathon dancing or the Iditarod or -

Ray: Shut up?

Fraser: As you wish. [watches as Ray attempts to slip on his holster] Do you need some help?

Ray: No.

[Ray tries again, then slumps on the bench in defeat, chin on chest.]

[They make their way back through the gym.]

Fraser: I think it may be possible to clear Levon of Jamal's murder.

Ray: How?

Fraser: Well, to a certain extent, it will depend on whether or not Jamal was actually taking the Furosemide that we found in his effects.

Ray: That's the diur-whatsisit that you didn't get Mort to test for.

Fraser: Exactly. So we should go to the lab now and pick up the results.

Ray: Yeah, but you didn't get him to test for it.

Fraser: Well, nevertheless I think we said enough to stimulate his curiosity.

Ray: Yeah but those stiffs in the morgue got more curiosity than Mort.

Fraser: Well, we'll soon find out.

Ray: Ten bucks.

Fraser: No, I never wager.

Ray: Oh, you don't bet, you don't fight, what do Canadians do at night, play charades?

Fraser: At night? We sleep.

[Mort is lying on his worktable, engrossed in singing German opera, as they enter.]

Fraser: Mort. . .Mort. . .Mort, Mort, Mort, Mort.

Mort: Oh. I've been expecting you. He wasn't taking Furosemide. What significance it has, I don't know. However, I also discovered there was no medical condition that would require diuretics.

Fraser: Thank you kindly.

[Mort goes back to singing]

[Fraser and Ray walk through the corridors.]

Fraser: The Furosemide belonged to his brother.

Ray: Who? To Deron?

Fraser: Yes. We have reason to believe that Jamal emptied Deron's locker and had his things with him when he was killed.

Ray: The soy sauce.

Fraser: And the bok choy.

Ray: Why would Deron want the diuretics?

Fraser: Well, I had thought to lose weight. Apparently, he had the opposite problem. He couldn't keep weight on.

Ray: Steroids?

Fraser: I think so. Fighters are tested for steroids, so he took the diuretic to flush his system, which would make the urine test unreliable.

Ray: Deron was taking steroids.

Fraser: Which can cause disorientation and even coma under certain circumstances.

Ray: So Jamal went to get his stuff, found the steroids. He was going to turn in the guy who gave them to Deron, so the guy whacked 'im, took the steroids, put the clothes back in the locker. So all we got to do is find the guy who gave Deron the steroids.

Fraser: I think that's substantially it.

Ray: No. It can't be Devlin. He's what fighting's all about. He's the best. I mean, he. . .

Fraser: He's a trainer who badly needed a champion, Ray.

[Ray and Fraser walk with Welsh to his office.]

Welsh: It sounds very interesting, Detective, with one missing detail, and that is some proof.

Ray: Yeah, but if Deron was taking steroids -

Welsh: Yeah 'if', that's a big word.

Fraser: Well, Francesca is checking with the hospital now.

Welsh: Isn't it a little late to be tested?

Fraser: Well undoubtedly they drew some blood when he was admitted. It may be possible to test that.

Welsh: You know, there's a lot of people who think Franco Devlin's one heck of a guy, and I just might be one of them.

Ray: Yeah, me too, but -

Welsh: That's all right. If he's dirty, you take him down. You just make sure you're right.

Francesca: I just called the hospital.

Ray: Can they do the tests?

Francesca: No, but there's another way to find out. Ask Deron. He just woke up.

[in Deron's hospital room]

Deron: I don't know who would kill Jamal, but it wasn't Franco Devlin.

Ray: You were taking steroids.

Fraser: Would you want an innocent man to be convicted of your brother's murder?

Deron: Listen, guys do that all the time.

Ray: Look, you're ten times the fighter that Levon Jefferson is or could be.

Deron: I must have had a bad night.

Ray: You don't care who killed your brother?

Deron: Don't care? He was my brother. He was my broth. . .

Ray: I know. Okay. And- and- and it couldn't have been Franco Devlin, could it? I mean, 'cuz that guy was like a lucky rabbit's foot to you.

Deron: He believed in me. Believed that I could be the best.

Ray: But you had to put the weight on and so he gave you the 'roids and it almost killed you.

Deron: He believed I could be a champion.

Ray: And now you've got to cover for him.

Deron: It wasn't Franco. Franco wouldn't kill anybody.

Fraser: Did he give you the steroids?

Deron: Just for some bulk. Not enough to hurt me. I was going to quit in a couple of weeks.

[at Devlin's gym]

Ray: Devlin, got some good news. Deron's awake.

Devlin: Yeah, I heard. I'm going over to see him just as soon as I'm finished here.

Ray: You think he's going to want to keep on fighting?

Devlin: Well, I've seen guys come back from worse.

Ray: Even after you been pumping them full of steroids?

Devlin: Nice job. Leanin' on a kid when he's in the hospital.

Fraser: Actually, he talked with us quite willingly.

Ray: Yeah, seeing that you put him there.

Devlin: Your guy got in a lucky punch.

Ray: Man, I thought you were the best.

Devlin: I am the best!

Ray: Why'd you do it?

Devlin: What did I do, huh? Give that kid a chance to win? You think that half the guys out here aren't on that stuff or whatever else they can get their hands on?

Fraser: A corrupt system is no justification for personal corruption, Mr. Devlin.

Devlin: We're talkin' about winnin' here.

Fraser: I thought that fighting was about more than just winning.

Devlin: Not when you make your livin' at it.

Ray: Come on, we can talk downtown.

Devlin: I got nothin' more to say.

Ray: Don't worry, I got a lot of questions -

[Mason jumps in and pushes Devlin out of the gym, telling the other fighters that Ray and Fraser are after Franco. They surround them, preventing them from following.]

Fraser: Ah, gentlemen.

Ray: These aren't gentlemen, Fraser.

Fraser: A quick word, Ray. [leans close to Ray's ear] It may be perhaps that they are not aware that we are police officers. I mean, they're probably not familiar with my uniform and you haven't identified yourself -

Ray: Right. [pulls out gun and shows badge on shoulder holster] Chicago PD!

Man: You guys are cops, man?

Fraser: That's correct. My name is Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police -

Ray: Look, Fraser -

Fraser: Some other time maybe.

[They rush after Mason and Devlin.]

Devlin: Let me go, Mason. I know you're only tryin' to help but it's the wrong way.

Ray: Devlin, you're under arrest! You too!

Devlin: I'm sorry. He was just tryin' to defend me.

Ray: Yeah? Well we like to call that resisting arrest. [cuffs Devlin, throws another pair of cuffs to Fraser] Fraser, throw these on punchy.

Fraser: Certainly.

Mason [to Devlin]: Let me take him.

Devlin: It's all right, Mason. We'll get a lawyer and we'll be out in an hour.

Ray: On homicide? I don't think so.

Devlin: Homicide?

Mason: Let me take him.

Devlin: Hey, look, I gave a kid something to help him bulk up. That's it. I didn't kill anybody.

Ray: You forget about Jamal?

Devlin: Levon killed Jamal.

Ray: You did it because he found out about the steroids.

Devlin: He did?

Mason: He didn't kill nobody.

Fraser: Yes, he did, Mason, and he's going to jail for it.

Mason: No, he wouldn't do that.

Fraser: Oh, no? Not even to protect himself?

Mason: No.

Fraser: No. But you might, mightn't you? You might kill someone in order to protect him.

Devlin: Mason?

Fraser: You reopened that cut over your eye yesterday. You didn't have that cut the night before the fight.

Ray: He didn't?

Fraser: No, he didn't, Ray. It was opened up some time after the fight.

Ray: Fighting Jamal.

Fraser: I think that's correct. I'm sure you didn't intend to kill him.

Mason: He found out about the steroids. He was going to tell.

Fraser: It's all over Mason.

Mason: No!

[Mason attempts to escape by climbing to the roof. Ray and Fraser follow. All three end up falling through a skylight into the boxing ring below. Ray pushes Fraser aside as Mason gets to his feet. Fraser withdraws behind the ropes leaving Ray alone in the ring with Mason. Mason lands 4 punches and Ray stumbles to the corner near Fraser.]

Ray: Ahh, a little help here, Fraser?

Fraser: Are you sure you want that? I mean, this is after all an intensely personal individual quest.

Ray: Yeah. Help.

Fraser: Okay, think Zaire 1974.

[Ray stumbles forward right into a punch to the stomach.]

Fraser: Ooh. New Orleans '78.

[Ray lands one.]

Fraser: That's it.

[Mason lands four.]

Fraser: Think Chicago.

[Ray responds with a head butt, and Mason goes down.]

Fraser: Perfect.

[Ray and Fraser wait as Devlin and Mason are taken into custody by uniformed police. Ray is explaining what happened to one uniformed officer.]

Ray: I was stickin', I was movin', I was bobbin', I was weavin'. Boom-boom-boom. He comes on strong. Think Ali 1974. Rope-a-dope. Into the ropes. Ump, ump, ump, ump, ump, bam. I win.

[The policeman walks away totally unimpressed.]

Fraser: You know, Ray, he probably just doesn't appreciate the finer points of head butting. Boxing.

Ray: Devlin was a hell of a trainer.

Fraser: Well, maybe he can continue to be. You know, one mistake doesn't necessarily mean the end of a career. Think about Richard Nixon. . . that's probably not a good example.

Ray: Speaking about mistakes, Fraser. . . Uh, well, we're friends, right?

Fraser: Sure.

Ray: Partners?

Fraser: Absolutely.

Ray: So, you look in the ring and you see this large goon trying to beat your partner and your friend to death with his bare hands, so what do you generally do?

Fraser: Well, you help.

Ray: Right.

Fraser: Oh. Oh, I see where you're headed with this. No, in this particular case, Ray, I knew this was just a continuation of your earlier match and that you had to go this alone as part of a mental and spiritual quest.

Ray: Next time?

Fraser: Yes?

Ray: Help.

Fraser: Understood.

[They walk outside. A few men are still hanging around the entrance. Fraser puts on his Stetson, straightens his coat, and pauses in the doorway.]

Fraser: Well, Ray the bomb, let's keep it real. 411 and sook.

Ray: Fraser, what are you doing?

Fraser: I'm just getting down with my bad self. [He nods to the others as he begins to walk off.] Houseboys.

Man: Oh, man. . .

Ray: Homeboys, it's homeboys.

Fraser: Homeboys. Homeboys.

Ray: He's Canadian. He's a little funny.



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