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.. Scénář - 60. epizoda - Fraser zpívá blues (Mountie Sings The Blues) ..

[Inspector Thatcher's Office]

Thatcher: These orders are straight from the Minister of Industry, Trade and Commerce.

Fraser: I see they're classified, Sir.

Thatcher (licking envelopes): Yes...well, no. I have my own stamp.

Fraser: Ah.

Thatcher: Canada's Sweetheart needs protecting.

Fraser: They feel her life may be in danger while she's here in Chicago?

Thatcher: Danger! As if those pencil-neck geeks in Industry, Trade and Commerce would know danger if it jumped up and pierced their spleen with an ice pick. I know danger. I live (lick) danger.

Fraser: Indeed you do, Sir.

Thatcher: We will not be part of any (stands up and walks across room)...what is that noise...publicity circus. My command here in Chicago has been characterized by one word, dignity.

(Opens door, finds Turnbull in apron, rubber gloves and mask vacuuming the entry hall)

Turnbull: Hello, Sir. I was just freshening up the Regal Suite.

Thatcher: You are not a char lady, Turnbull. You are a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted (doorbell rings)

Turnbull: Oh! It's them! It's them! It's them!

(Turnbull stumbles over vacuum cleaner in his excitement. Thatcher bangs her forehead on the wall and groans. Fraser opens consulate door.)

Fraser: Good afternoon and welcome. (Earl Jeffers barges in, checks the entry hall and speaks into walkie talkie.)

Earl: It's clear. Bring her in. (To Fraser) Earl Jeffers. I head up security.

Fraser. Ah. My name is Constable Benton Fraser, Royal Canadian Mounted Police. I...

Earl: You came looking for the guy who killed your father.

Fraser: Yes.

Earl: I've seen your file.

Fraser: I see.

(Tracy Jenkins and her manager, George Monroe, enter the consulate.)

Fraser: Good afternoon, and welcome to the...

Turnbull: Oh! Oh! It's Tracy! (Turnbull faints)

Thatcher: Canadian Consulate.

[Inspector Thatcher's Office]

George: This was faxed to the hotel last night (hands Thatcher a fax) from somewhere in Chicago.

Thatcher: "If I can't have you, no one will."

Fraser: It's a death threat?

Thatcher: Possibly.

Fraser: Did you check the number?

Earl: It's a cyber grind...internet computer joint.

Turnbull: Oh, over on Madison.

Earl: Yeah. That's the one. Any creep could have sent it. (To Tracy) You gotta keep your head down.

Tracy: George, look, I...I...

George: Trace, I agree with Earl. We got some kind of wacko out here on the loose.

Tracy: Look. I'm playing the Music Hall. End of discussion.

George: You're a star!

Tracy (to Fraser and Thatcher): You know, you see the problem here is that he won't book me in a club that sits two hundred people. He's always booking me in front of fifty or sixty thousand...and not a paying customer can get close enough to even see if it's me. I just...I can't see their faces, George. You know with the music, it's about getting closer to the people, okay?

Fraser: Well indeed it is, but I think in this case Mr. Monroe's advice is prudent. This letter demonstrates all the characteristics of an obsessive-compulsive disorder coupled with delusional symptoms and an escalating pathological desire.

Earl: Back home we don't trust a man who talks too much.

Fraser: Ah. Where I come from, we don't trust a man who leaves the house without a knife, a compass and some beef jerky. (To Tracy) What time are you scheduled to arrive at the club?

Tracy: 8:30.

[Front entrance of the Music Hall]

(It's crowded with fans. Woman masquerading as Tracy Jenkins and a Mountie (Turnbull) exit limousine and walk toward entrance. Sniper from opposite rooftop shoots the woman.)

Ray (as he bolts from the crowd): Across the street! (reaches the undercover policewoman who has fallen to the ground) MacAfferty?!

MacAfferty: They said the vest was just a formality, Vecchio.

Ray: You okay?

MacAfferty: As far as I can tell. Oh, no! My shoulder!

Ray: (into walkie-talkie) Shots fired! Officer down! Officer down!

(Fraser reaches roof of building on the opposite side of the street and finds a picture of Tracy Jenkins. Gazes across the street at the crowd and police in front of the Music Hall.)

[LT Welsh's Office]

Tracy: I can't believe this bullet was meant for me.

Ray: Yeah, for you.

Tracy: And the officer?

Welsh: They're keeping her overnight in the hospital; but she'll be all right.

Tracy: What's her name? I...I don't even know what her name is.

Welsh: MacAfferty.

Tracy: MacAfferty.

Welsh: Officer MacAfferty.

Tracy: Oh.

Fraser: And this was found at the scene. (Holds up a publicity photo of Tracy Jenkins.)

George: We send those out to fans by the thousands.

Welsh: Dewey, take this stuff down to Forensics. I want a full report on my desk by nine.

Dewey: You got it.

Tracy: I'm sorry, George. I should have listened to you.

[Squad Room]

Turnbull: How is she?

Dewey: Trace?

Turnbull: Trace?

Dewey: Yeah, we're...we're tight.

Turnbull: So she's....

Dewey: She's good.

Turnbull: Oh, I knew it! She's a fighter!

Huey: Tracy Jenkins. Wow.

Turnbull: Yeah.

Francesca: How can you like country music?

Turnbull: Ohhhh, Miss Vecchio. The mournful longings...the lament for a better life. Some ethnomusicologists refer to country music as the white man's blues.

Francesca: Blues.

Turnbull: Sure. Look at me.

Francesca: Country music is nothing but pick up trucks, trains, and donkeys, okay?!

Dewey: Donkeys, right, okay. Why don't you name one song with donkeys in it?

Francesca: Puhleeze. There's millions!

Huey: Oh yeah? Name one. (pauses for answer.) Annhh!!!

[LT Welsh's Office]

Welsh: We'll continue on the fan stalker angle. You have a list of the fan club? The Chicago Branch? Maybe we...we might get lucky.

George: Got the data base in my laptop.

Ray: What about fan mail?

Earl: The actual letters?

Ray: Yeah.

Earl: They're back in Nashville at the office.

Welsh: How soon can you get them here?

Earl: Tomorrow morning.

Ray: Good.

Welsh: All right. For your own safety, don't go back to your hotel 'til we get this guy off the street.

Tracy: Okay.

Fraser: Uh, Sir. I think Miss Jenkins will be safe and uh...quite comfortable at the Canadian Consulate. (Dief's licking Tracy's face.) And she's obviously very welcome. If you'll excuse me for a minute. (Fraser walks over, opens the office door, and speaks into Turnbull's ear.)

Turnbull: Yee hee hee HEE! (Fraser closes the door.)

Welsh: What the hell was that?!

Fraser: The sound of a grown man squealing in a manner not becoming to a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.

Welsh: Oh, Turnbull.

Fraser: Hmmm.

[Squad Room]

Francesca: Donkey Kong Angels.

Dewey: That's Honky Tonk Angels, Kitty Wells. I don't think she was singing about video games back in the fifties.

(A belligerent man enters the squad room, followed by a female officer. It's Dwight, Tracy's estranged husband.)

Officer: You can't go in there!

Dwight: Yeah? Just watch me.

Officer: Look, I said...you just...

Huey: Problem?

Officer: Yes.

Dwight: Why don't you just take twenty, Sweetheart, all right? I'm looking for my wife. I wanta see....

Huey: Wife?

(Tracy, Earl, George, Welsh, Ray and Fraser enter the squad room from Welsh's office)

Dwight: Baby.

Earl: That far enough, Dwight.

Tracy: It's okay, Earl.

Dwight: What! I gotta hear this on the radio? You can't call me?

Tracy: Well. There's a lot of bars between here and Tennessee, Dwight. Guess I just didn't know which one to call.

Dwight: Aww, that's cold, Baby. Because you know if anything ever happened to you...

Tracy (to Earl): Listen, we need to get him...

Dwight: You know that....

Tracy: To a motel....

Dwight: I couldn't...

Tracy: And we'll deal with him later.

Dwight: What? Wha...wha...what?! You're gonna deal with me?! Deal with me?!

Earl: That's enough, Dwight.

Dwight: Who wrote the damn tune!

Earl: That's enough! You're going home!

Dwight: And I regret it too!

Earl: Drop it Dwight! Come on!

[Consulate entry hall]

(Doorbell rings; Turnbull opens the door to Tracy and Fraser.)

Turnbull: Ahh, welcome. In honor of your stature as the Queen of Country Music, I have prepared the Regal Suite and oh...uh..uh...also..uh...on behalf of your privacy, I intercepted a number of messages. A man named Sid called about uh...I don't know. I sent them packing. Uh...a reporter looking for an interview. I also sent him packing. And a very curious conversation with a man named 'The Coast"; something about a movie thingie.

Fraser: Turnbull. Miss Jenkins has had a very full day...

Turnbull: Say no more, Sir. This calls for something calming, some Saskatoon Berry Tea. (Turnbull leaves to get tea.)

Fraser: I'm sorry. He's uh...well, shall we? (They start toward the stairs.) Your life sounds very busy.

Tracy: Well, George has a motto you know. Busy is bigger, bigger's better I think he's got it tatooed somewhere actually. Uh...I love George but uh...I wonder what happened to the simple things.

Fraser: Well, I often ask myself the very same question.

Tracy: Thanks for tonight.

Fraser: Oh, it was nothing.

Tracy: You saved my life Fraser. Thank you. (She kisses him lightly on the cheek.)

Fraser: You uh...my cheek. (Dief barks.) Right uh...that's uh...sixteen stairs. Here's the landing. Follow me please.

[Squad Room next morning]

Welsh: All right everybody, listen up. I have a medical update on Officer MacAfferty. She sustained some muscle damage to her right arm, but she's gonna be just fine.

Ray: Uh...they checked out the Cyber Grind Café and nothing. Mind you those space cadets couldn't ID Monica Lewinsky if she was interning for 'em.

Welsh: All right. Give it the hard work. Let me know if Monica shows up.

Ray: Uh, Frannie. What did you get?

Francesca: Listen to this - Russia. "Dear Tracy. You have been an eyesore to us these past three months in our sensory canal. We flatter you, Oh Courageous Queen. 'I Can't Love Again' is for us the gate key to leave Siberia and become super models". Signed Olga and Vaselina.

Ray: Vaselina - super models. They got a return address on that?

Dewey: Why are you cheapening this? I mean listen to what they're saying. That song gave them hope.

Francesca: Yeah. Just like you hope there's no donkey in a country song.

Huey: Fifty bucks.

Francesca: You're on.

Huey; You got it.

Fraser: You know, letter writing can sometimes be something of an art.

Francesca: Yeah. Some are just plain creepy.

Fraser: Hmm.

(Huey and Dewey's desks)

Dewey: You know what? You know what we should do?

Huey: What?

Dewey: We should write one.

Huey: Write what? A letter?

Dewey: No, a country song. I mean, how hard can it be?

Huey: Yeah. Could be fun, huh. We could cut a CD.

Dewey: Watch it go platinum.

Huey: Or we could make some real money. Write some jingles and have the song used in a commercial.

Dewey: No, no, I'm not going to allow my music to be prostituted like that, okay? I'm not going to compromise my principles.

Huey: Oh please. You don't have any music, or principles.

(Francesca's desk)

Fraser: Now this group is harmless; this group is threatening to some degree; and, thank you, Dief; this pile Diefenbaker found to be particularly offensive.

Dewey: Hey. (yells to group at Francesca's desk) Check this one out. Got a guy here; he sends in a stack of lottery tickets so that she can bless them.

Francesca: So why didn't he just send them to the Pope?

Ray: Cause the Pope can't carry a tune in a bucket, okay? Who's the biggest freak show?

Francesca: Well, we've got a wide assortment, but it seems the most dedicated one is a Mr. Carver Dunn.

Ray: Oooh, a hometown boy.

Francesca: Look at this. There were 114 letters written over a three-month period, all of them ending with "Your One True Love".

Ray: Hold on a second. You got a copy of that fax?

Fraser: Uh huh, any connection?

Ray: Uh, same lingo. Uh, run him Frannie.

Fraser: Lingo is a...well it's a tenuous connection.

Ray: Tenuous?

Fraser: Ummm.

Ray: Look. "If I can't have you, no one will." "If I can't have you, no one will".

Fraser: Yes, but Ray, these letters...I mean apart from being...uh...uh...a testament to the sad and lonely absurdity of man's cruel fate, are relatively benign; whereas this fax is a virtual torrent of mental illness.

Francesca: Ooh! Ooh! Look at this. Carver Dunn; disturbing the peace, loitering...

Ray: Who gets busted for loitering?

Francesca: Fruitcakes.

Ray: Uh huh.

Francesca: He's got a restraining order against him.

Fraser (reading over Frannie's shoulder): Forbidding him to go within a hundred yards of Linda Lawless, singer. Well, it would appear that perhaps I was..uh...

Ray: Wrong.

Fraser: Wrong, and that...maybe we should uh...

Ray: Pick him up.

Fraser: Pick him up.

[Squad Room - after Ray and Fraser have brought in Carver Dunn]

Dunn: I'm a wacko! Who'd give a wacko a permit?!

Fraser: The state of Florida seems to have a loose approach to gun ownership.

Ray: You ever been to Florida?

Dunn: Once, to see Mickey.

Ray: Did he give you a gun?

Dunn: He's a mouse, Mister! I was six! Where's my lawyer?

Ray: How 'bout we give him a paraffin test. See if he fired a weapon recently.

Fraser (sniffs Dunn's fingers): Won't work, Ray. Peroxide.

Dunn: I dyed my mother's hair this morning. That's not a crime.

Ray: In the state of Illinois, yes it is, Pal. It is a crime to be your mother's hairdresser.

Dunn: I'm not a hairdresser, Mister! I'm a stylist.

Fraser: "If I can't have you, no one will". Did you write these words?

Dunn: There's a fan club. They ask you to write in. That's not a crime.

Ray: A police officer was shot. That's attempted murder. That is a crime

Welsh: Vecchio! Mr. Dunn is lawyered up.

Ray: Oh well - very, very sorry - terrible, terrible mistake (pulls Dunn up from chair) -let's go (drags him toward door) - you're free to go - thanks a lot for coming - bye bye - your parking will be validated at the door (shoves him out the door) - thank you.

[Welsh's Office]

George: You're letting him go? He's written a million letters, tried to put a bullet in her, and you're letting him go?!

Welsh: I'll have two of my best men parked outside his house. But right now we have nothing that places him at the scene of the shooting. Unless we have some solid evidence we can take to the State's Attorney's Office, there's...there's really not much more we can do.

George: Until she's dead; is that what you're saying? (Fraser, Ray and Welsh all mumble negatives) Cops!

[Consulate Entry Hall]

Turnbull: It's called 'I Won't Be Home for Supper Because They are Gonna Hang Me Tonight'. It's a story song that blends the world of horticulture with the world of bank robbery. (Earl enters consulate smoking a cigar.)

Earl: Trace, you ready?

Turnbull: Excuse me, but this is a non-smoking environment.

Earl: This is a cigar. (To Tracy) We got about a half hour 'til the session.

Turnbull: I could sing it in a heartbeat.

Earl: I am set to go.

Turnbull: I could do it in double time.

Trace: All right, Constable.

Earl: Tracy...

Tracy: Listen, he...he's a songwriter. You never know where my next hit record's gonna come from. So uh...go on to the car, okay Earl? I'll be right out, all right?

Earl: Okay; you're the boss.

Tracy: So Constable, how many verses in this song of yours?

Turnbull: Oh! (grabs chair) Twenty-one and a half.

(Earl waiting in limo finds a stir stick in the car seat with Cyber Café on it)

[Recording Studio]

(Tracy is on stage singing 'Nobody's Girl' with a female back-up singer who's singing off key. Ray and Fraser are in the sound room with George, Dwight and the sound man (wearing headphones) viewing the rehearsal through the window.)

Sound Man: Just a touch flat on that, Arlene. Let's take another run at it.

Ray (on cell phone): Any sign of Carver yet?

Huey (on stakeout with Dewey at Carver's place): No, nothing yet.

Ray: Right. Well let me know if he sticks his head out.

[Stake Out]

Dewey (singing): 'Don't call me for supper if you don't mean to feed me; don't tell me you love me with that gun in your hand.' What d'ya think of that?

Huey: Uh...I dunno. What's it mean though?

Dewey: What's what mean?

Huey: Like...is he going to shoot her or what?

Dewey: Uh...how would I know?

Huey: You wrote it.

Dewey: Well, I know I wrote it. It's a song! It's not suppose to mean anything.

Huey: Of course it does. It's a song. That's the whole point of song writing. It's suppose to have significance.

[Recording Studio]

Sound Man: Still a little flat on that one.

Arlene: I'm sorry. I can get the note.

George: Question is when. (mike is on and Arlene overhears him) Five hundred an hour, I'm not sure I wanna know the answer. (Arlene yanks off her headset and walks off stage)

Tracy: George, the mike was still on.

Sound Man: How 'bout we take five everybody.

George: (To sound man as Tracy's coming to the sound room): You killed a pig with your bare hands?

Tracy: George, there's no call to be so mean. (To Ray and Fraser) Do you mind guys?

Ray (to Fraser as they leave): I thought she was pretty good.

Fraser: Good as in attractive?

Ray: I don't care.

Dwight: Look, her name is Arlene Williams. She was in the band that opened for us in Minneapolis. Remember the one with the regional hit?

Tracy: Look, I hire the talent, Dwight; always have, always will.

Dwight: Oh well, hey, God forbid that the great Tracy Jenkins would need anybody else's help.


(Fraser's picking out the tune 'Nobody's Girl' on the piano.)

Muddy: Hey...what are ya doin' there, Son?

Fraser: Well, it just occurred to me that if the song were moved up a minor third it might ease the tempo and release the vocal.

Muddy: Now that just occurred to ya?

Fraser: Yes, Sir.

[Sound Room]

Tracy: Dwight, this girl may have a talent but since it doesn't appear to be singing, maybe you can tell me what her talent is, huh?

Dwight: Ohhh, how cold is that heart of yours, Baby, huh? And how hard would it be to allow me to contribute every now and then, huh?

George: Contribute! Contribute! Your contribution turns out to be a girl who couldn't hold a tune with handcuffs!

Dwight: Am I talking to you, huh? Do I ever talk to you?

Sound Man (returning to the sound room): Issue's dead guys. Arlene just quit.

Dwight: Nice work, George. Good management there, Buddy. Why don't you go on out there and see if you can't lose the rest of the band while you're on a roll.


(Tracy walks up singing 'Nobody's Girl' as Fraser plays the tune on the piano)

Tracy: You sing?

Fraser: Me, sing? No, no, no, no...well, when I was a child - church choirs. Well, if we were within sledding distance.

Tracy: Oh. That minor third idea, that - that is a great idea. (To Muddy) Let's get him a mike.

Muddy: Boys, we're gonna try a little somethin' here. It's a little bit country, and it's a little bit rock and roll.

Fraser: Well, no, no, no...I'm, I'm, I uh...I mean I, I...


(Ray and Earl are sitting together. Earl is sipping alcohol from a small container)

Ray: Kind of a...high maintenance job, huh? Running security for artistes?

Earl: Hah, yeah. Well, it's better than my last job. Worked homicide for two years, Memphis PD.

Ray: Hmm, Memphis. (accepts the alcohol from Earl) You ever meet Elvis?

Earl: Yep. Coupla days ago. Nice guy. Bit tubby.

Ray: Tubby.

[Squad Room at the Precinct]

Turnbull: Miss Vecchio.

Francesca: Well, Turnbull?

Turnbull: I got your message.

Francesca: You coulda just called me back.

Turnbull: Well, you said it was important, and it's only 97 blocks.

Francesca: Listen, um, you're kind of a country music expert, right?

Turnbull: Well, I am a buff, yes; a devotee, possibly an aficionado, but an expert, heh, you flatter me.

Francesca: Okay, whatever, listen. I got fifty bucks riding on this. Do you know of any songs about donkeys?

Turnbull: I'll certainly put my mind to it.

Francesca: Great. Thanks.

Turnbull: Oh, uh, uh...if you'll do me the favor of allowing me to convince you of the depth and resonance of country music.

Francesca: Yeah, well, I'm kinda busy right now.

Turnbull: Uh..oh..perhaps..um..during your lunch we could have a beverage, non-alcoholic, caffeine-free, sugarless....

Francesca: You mean like a date?

Turnbull: A - a - a date, a date, wow - a date. Um - possibly - perhaps - yes.

Francesca: Um, I just, I just, I can't leave the building, and I'm kinda - I'm kinda working through lunch.

Turnbull: Say no more.

[Recording Studio]

(Tracy is singing 'Nobody's Girl' with Fraser as back up. Ray is in the sound room)

Ray: That man has the rhythm of a stick. Come on, Fraser. Do something. Move.

[Hallway at Recording Studio]

(Earl enters Tracy's dressing room surreptitiously.)

[Squad Room at the Precinct]

(Turnbull has arranged a candle-lit lunch for two)

Turnbull: You said you couldn't leave the building, and I have a friend who lives nearby so I borrowed his kitchen to whip you up alliatelli acatuchio companudorie evisilico dafiena mosca.

Francesca: So, is this like a prerequisite for being a Mountie? You just have to be completely nutty? I mean I was just thinking of a hot dog from a street vendor.

Turnbull: Oh, no, no, the fecal matter count is far too high, far too high Do you like poetry, Miss Vecchio? (Willie Nelson song 'You Were Always on My Mind' is playing in the background)

Francesca: Poetry? Yeah, yeah, I like poetry. "We are the hollow man. We are...the fulfilled guys." Yeah, I love poetry.

Turnbull: Oh, I'm glad. I'm so very glad. Because you see country music is the poetry of the people - unaffected - heartfelt. It has great strength and - and beauty. And if you love the tender muscle of the English language, you have to love a man for simply saying (in unison with Willie Nelson) - you are always on my mind.

Francesca: I'm always on your mind?

Turnbull: I know of a mule.

Francesca: You do?

Turnbull Different from a donkey, genetically speaking; but metaphorically, very agreeable. Walter Brennan, 'That Mule, Old Rivers, and Me'.

Francesca: I was always on your mind? (Turnbull grins sheepishly)

(Female police officers observing the two)

Officer 1: Must be the uniform.

Officer 2: Isn't that sweet.

[Recording Studio]

Sound Man: You should sign this guy up.

George: I just might.

Muddy: That was damn good, I mean damn good!

Fraser: Well, thank you, Mr. Muddy.

Muddy: Keep rockin'.

Fraser: Excuse me (joins Ray).

Ray: Forensics got a partial print off the postcard but nothing they can use. You seen Earl?

Fraser: No, I was uh...

Ray: Moving like a block of wood.

Fraser: I'm sorry.

Ray: Singing like a bird.

Fraser: Really?

Ray: I didn't tell you what kind of bird.

Fraser: Oh.

George: Anyone seen Tracy?

[Stake Out]

(Carver Dunn leaves his house while Huey and Dewey are working on their song)

Dewey (singing): Do you mind if I talk, do you mind if I speak.

Huey: Yeah!

Dewey: Do you mind if I speak, do you mind if I speak, I would like to be frank; your cooking is wretched and....

Huey: This coffee's rank.

Dewey: Perfect.

Huey: No, no, no. This coffee (holds up his cup) is rank.

Dewey: Who cares? It rhymes.

Huey (answering cell phone): Yeah.

[Recording Studio]

Ray (into cell phone): Watch him! Do not let him move out of the house. We may have lost her. I - I said may have lost her.

(Fraser finds Dief locked in Tracy's dressing room and returns to the studio)

Fraser: We have lost her.


(Dunn and Earl are at a table together)

Dunn: Did you get the underpants?

Earl: Stockings.

Dunn: You said underpants.

Earl: I said stockings.

Dunn: Jeez! You wouldn't be forgetting about those racketeering charges in Memphis now would you?

Earl: You know, I was in Yellow Springs once - Ohio.

Dunn: Oh?

Earl: Sitting across the table from a guy kind of like you - a little diddler. And it didn't take much - two hands, short move. Both his eyeballs were hanging out of his sockets.

Dunn: Wha-what are you trying to say?

Earl: Check the statute of limitations. As of tomorrow I'm off the hook.

Dunn: Well, maybe your boss would like to know tonight.

Earl: You see this is how it works grabs Dunn's face between his hands) You put your thumbs here, then you pop the eyes like you're opening a can of beer. I see your eyes swinging on your cheeks. All you see is your boots. (slams Dunn back into his chair - Dunn runs off - waitress walks up)

Waitress: Will there be anything else?

Earl: Just the check please.

(Unknown assailant comes up behind Earl and shoots him in the neck with a gun that has a silencer. He takes the stir stick from Earl's shirt pocket and leaves. Earl slowly falls forward. Another patron screams.)

[Club - after police arrive]

Waitress: Well, I was working the floor on account of Doreen had some kind of foot fungus thing which is typical; and there's the normal bunch of creeps and we had a special party, a stag for a guy named Smith, and then the dead guy who ordered for one. (hands Fraser Earl's ticket)

Fraser: Double bacon, double cheese, double mayo. It's not very healthy.

Ray: Better than a bullet.

Fraser: Does this time code here indicate the time he paid?

Waitress: No, no, no. That's the time I rang it in. The guy died before he paid me; which is typical. Now I'm out $8.99. He didn't have any loose bills on him did he?

Fraser: Emm, no. (pulls money from his stetson) But I'd be happy to take care of that.

Waitress: Oh, is this Canadian?

Fraser: Yes, it is.

Waitress: Better make it a hundred.

Fraser: Ray?

[Welsh's Office]

(Ray, Fraser, Huey and Dewey are lined up in front of LT Welsh's desk)

LT Welsh (to Huey and Dewey): You were writing a song? The prime suspect in the shooting of a police officer eluded surveillance because you were writing a song?! We'll revisit this momentarily. (To Ray and Fraser) Do we have anything that places Carver at the scene of the crime? (no response) Is there any evidence that anybody was at the scene of the crime?!

Fraser: There were twenty-three other men at the club, Sir. Unfortunately their attention was largely diverted by a number of women who were performing what I'm told is a form of modern dance.

Ray: Uh, the waitress figured that the um - dead guy was waiting for someone.

LT Welsh: Hmph. That would be Carver Dunn - who miraculously slipped through our usually vice-like police dragnet, and managed to get to the club at 3:35.

Dewey: Sir, according to the reports, everybody who knew the deceased had opportunity.

Ray: Including Tracy Jenkins.

LT Welsh: Who also miraculously slipped through our usually vice-like police dragnet!

Fraser: Yes, Sir. We had, or rather I had, become momentarily blinded by the bright lights of the music business.

LT Welsh: Is that so?

Fraser: Yes, Sir.

LT Welsh: And you?

Ray: You know my eyes, Sir; but uh - we're working on another angle.

LT Welsh: Oh good, good, good, good. That's encouraging. And how about you guys; you got anything?

Dewey: Actually uh - we're pretty close.

Huey: Yes, Sir. 'There's a house we call love, built next door to hate, and both them got lawns with a white picket gate. Their taxes don't differ and their water's the same.'

Dewey: One more line? We got that chorus, Sir. (LT Welsh rubs his hands down his face) Oh, you meant in terms of police work. I see. Okay. (Dewey and Huey hastily depart as messenger enters the office)

Messenger: Yo, Ray. This guy, Mr. Brown-Smith-Jones dropped this off for you. (hands Ray a video)

Fraser: Thank you kindly.

(Ray, Fraser and LT Welsh view the tape - it's from a security camera at the club)

Ray: What losers. This stag party really sucks.

LT Welsh: Here it is - top of the frame. (video shows Earl seated at a table in the club)

Fraser: He was expecting someone (tape reaches the end)

Ray: Couple of more seconds and we would have had it.

Fraser: We may still have it. (rewinds tape to a frame that shows Carver Dunn in the background) There's your man.

LT Welsh: Pick him up.


George: Now Sweetheart, I want you to get some sleep. First thing in the morning we'll try and patch things up with Dwight. The man loves you in his own way and as crazy as he makes me, he did write The Tune. He's always been part of the team.

Tracy: Well, George...

George: What?

Tracy: What about Earl? Wasn't he part of the team?

George: Yes, Darlin', he was. And what happened to him is a sad, sad thing. And if I sound casual about it, believe me I don't feel casual. And that's why you running off like you did today scares me half to death.

Tracy: I just feel like I'm living in a fishbowl and it's driving me crazy

George: I know, I know, I know...and that's why I am gonna look at all the bookings. I'm gonna find you some breathing room. In the meantime, you stay here. Stay safe. Stay put. Let the Mountie look after you. I'll call you first thing in the morning. (kisses her on the forehead) Get some sleep.

Tracy: Okay.

[Fraser's room]

(Fraser's strumming on the guitar when Tracy enters the room with a bottle of wine and two glasses)

Tracy: Hi. I hope this isn't too forward. I was just having some trouble sleeping and I heard your guitar. Thought I'd...

Fraser: Oh, no, no, no. Please.

Tracy: Sit?

Fraser: Please. To be entirely truthful, I was having difficulty sleeping also.

Tracy: Entirely truthful - well, that's a concept. Would you like a drink?

Fraser: Oh no. Thank you. I don't drink. Well, unless it's the obligatory toast to the Queen's health.

Tracy: So you don't lie and you don't drink.

Fraser: No.

Tracy: You're a rare specimen Constable.

Fraser: Oh, I shouldn't think so. You know not all men are like...

Tracy: Awww...like my husband Dwight? You know underneath it all, he's a good man. He wrote my first hit song 'Scaredy Cat'. We never call it by the title though. We've always just called it The Tune. I'm - I'm grateful for that song.

Fraser: How did you get started singing?

Tracy: Sixteen years old first time I stepped foot on stage. Fwinfwon (sp?) Manitoba. There was about 20 people in the audience, but uh - I knew right then what I was going to do with my life. Just seems so far away now. It's gotten so complicated.

(Fraser removes a pine needle from her hair)

Fraser: Were you at the Strattonger Building today?

Tracy: I'm divorcing Dwight. My lawyers are there. How'd you know?

Fraser: Pine needle. They have a magnificent northern pine in the lobby. I often go there if I'm...homesick.

Tracy: So, do you have a home up north?

Fraser: Um hm, yeah. Well - it's a cabin actually. Well - lean-to really

Tracy: Well maybe I can see it sometime.

Fraser: That would be nice.

[Downtown - patrolman spots Dwight and goes after him]

[Squad Room - Francesca's Desk]

Fraser: Let's see what Mr. Dunn has in his knapsack.

Francesca: Tracy Jenkins poster, Tracy Jenkins tape, pair of silk stockings -I don't even want to know - two unopened Tracy Jenkins CD's.

Fraser: (looks at CD receipt) Hmm, excuse me.

[Interrogation Room]

Ray: We got a piece of tape that puts you in the bar.

Dunn: There were a lot of other people in that bar, Mister.

Ray: We searched your room. We found this in your closet, newspaper clippings. It seems the deceased had some trouble with the law, which you used to blackmail him, which he got sick of, which forced you to kill him.

Dunn: I didn't kill him!

Ray: You didn't?!

Dunn: No!

Fraser (as he enters room): No he didn't, Ray.

Ray: (aside to Fraser) Come on Fraser; I'm really laying on the lumber here.

Fraser: I realize that and I apologize; but he is telling the truth. He's innocent.

[Interrogation Room after LT Welsh arrives]

Dunn: Yeah, sometimes he'd bring me stuff - stockings and stuff. And sometimes he'd get 'em. Except some stuff he couldn't get, like I really, really wanted a pair of her...

LT Welsh: Save it, Mush Mouth.

Dunn: Don't tell my mom, okay Mister?

LT Welsh (to Ray and Fraser): Outside.

Ray (as he walks out): Someone oughta check that guy's freezer.

[Hallway outside Interrogation Room]

LT Welsh: So if our clocks tally, our little extortionist was at the other end of the street playing a CD when the guy was killed.

Fraser: And the clocks do tally, Sir; and the clerk identified him from a photograph.

LT Welsh: Dutch! Set Carver free please.

Ray (to Fraser): Coffee? (Ray and Fraser continue walking to the break room) So if the killer's not Carver, it's got to be somebody who knew Carver was gonna meet Earl.

Fraser: Well, not necessarily. I mean the killer could have just followed Earl and then killed him when the first opportunity to do so presented itself.

Ray: Okay, someone tries to kill the star. Then somebody does kill the star's bodyguard. Come on, no connection? The peroxide, the letters, the silk stockings? The guy's a pervert.

Fraser: Well, I agree he's a pervert. He's also an extortionist. Ray, I do not believe Mr. Dunn had anything to do with either shooting. (Francesca joins them)

Francesca: Maybe someone's trying to frame him. Like, let's look at the husband. There's rumors of a divorce, right? If they get a divorce, he gets nothing. That's a motive.

Ray: Okay, where's that leave Earl? (They continue walking to the squad room)

Fraser: Well, perhaps Earl was in on the plan to murder her, or perhaps he found out about it. He was using that to blackmail Dwight. Is that what you were thinking more or less?

Francesca: Exactly what I was thinking.

Ray: Okay, let's run uh - Dwight on the computer.

Francesca: I already did. There's nothing. I' mean unless he's got an alias. (Carver overhears her as he enters the squad room)

Dunn: Dwight Jones, born Dwight Parsons. Changes his name after tracking his birth parents to a trailer park in Hueyiana in 1979...

Ray: Okay, thanks.

Dunn: Meets Tracy Jenkins, March 4th 1981, at the Sixteen Acre Lounge, Nashville, Tennessee. She, a cocktail waitress; he, a disc jockey with a criminal record for fraud and assault...

Ray: Okay, that's good.

Dunn: Tracy is nothing if not loyal. Her current manager, George Monroe, was the former owner of the Sixteen Acre Lounge. And her band leader, Muddy Johnson, was the guitarist-in-residence....

Ray: You can shut up now.

Dunn: From her earliest days, Tracy displayed a determination to conquer singing...(Ray grabs him)

Ray: Okay, that's it! Enough said! (pushes him through the doors and into elevator)

Dunn (raising his voice): She played until her fingers bled. (elevator doors are closing) That's just the kind of person she...


Turnbull: Miss Jenkins? (looks in rooms) Uh -Miss Jenkins? It's Constable Turnbull. Woo hoo, Miss Jenkins? Miss Jenkins? Uh - uh -oh -uh - oh dear, Music Hall. She said she was going to Music Hall. Constable Fraser - Constable Fraser (starts dialing phone) Constable Fraser.


(Huey and Dewey singing in unison as they come down stairs)

Huey/Dewey: Their taxes don't differ...

Huey: No they don't!

Huey/Dewey: And their water's the same. But in one you get comfort, and in the other house shame.

Huey: Yee haw! Nashville, here we come!

Dewey: Somebody call up Wilkinson, Howard and Summerling and sign this act up!

Fraser: Excuse me. Wilkinson, Howard and Summerling - aren't they in the Strattonger Building?

Dewey: Yeah, on Michigan Avenue, yep.

Fraser: I thought they were divorce lawyers.

Dewey: No, not divorce lawyers, nothing as tawdry as that. These guys are talent managers - high-powered, low key. Remember the Unplugged Fed?

Fraser: No.

Dewey: That was them. They created it. They're taking on some of the biggest acts in the business.

Huey: That's right.

Fraser: Like Tracy Jenkins.

Ray: Fraser, come on. Turnbull's got his pumpkin pants in a knot. Thinks Tracy's gonna make that date at the Music Hall tonight.

Francesca (to Huey and Dewey): Anh Anh Anh - excuse me boys. 'That Old Mule, Rivers and Me', Walter Brennan. Fifty bucks! Cough it up! Anhhh!

[Outside Music Hall]

Fraser: Excuse me, Mr. Muddy.

Muddy: Sorry, I'm late for rehearsal. Gotta go, Man.

[Inside Music Hall]

Tracy: Check, check, two, one, two (checking mike). I need a bit more monitor there. Check, check, two, two, two, one two. Where the hell is Muddy?

[Outside Music Hall]

Muddy: Whew - Sixteen Acres, boys. Boy I'll tell you...that was a bad dive on the bad side of bad street. Nobody had a dime back then. We'd all go down to the A and P Grocery Store and shoplift some bologna and crackers - play a couple of songs for free beer. Life was good - ha ha ha. Tracy was just a kid back then. We was all crazy about Tracy, man - especially old George.

Fraser: Was George involved with Tracy?

Muddy: Yeahhh - 'cept she didn't know it - ha ha ha ha. Tracy had a thing going on with Dwight. Old George hung in there any way. And when the Sixteen Acres burned, he took the insurance money and produced her first album He'd a done anything for Tracy.

Fraser: Including commit arson?

Muddy: Well, you know - that was a long time ago and you know - nobody's sure. But uh - you know - one thing is - the bar burned, George got the cash, Tracy got an album, and I got a real good job - ha ha ha.

Ray: What'd Dwight get?

Muddy: Bitter - hee hee hee. Gotta go, man. Gotta go.

[Inside Music Hall]

(Tracy's singing on stage. Ray and Fraser position themselves behind the curtains. A gunman on the scaffold fires at Tracy. Fraser swings by a rope and knocks him to the stage. It's George, her manager. He grabs Tracy from behind and holds the gun to her neck while Ray and Fraser make their way to the stage.)

Fraser: George, you've nowhere to go. The building is surrounded with police officers.

Ray: It's all over.

George: I was gonna take care of her! I gave up everything I had for her and she was just gonna throw me away!

Tracy: George, I wasn't! I was always going to take care of you.

George: What?! Turn me into a loser like Dwight?! I don't need you to take care of me! I had big plans for us.

Tracy: George, now you're going to kill me?!

George: Kill you?! Tracy, I love you!

(Ray grabs him from behind and disarms him.)


Tracy is singing on stage. She motions for Fraser to join her as back up for 'Nobody's Girl'. Dewey, Huey, LT Welch, Inspector Thatcher, Turnbull (in cowboy hat), Francesca, Carver Dunn, Officer MacAfferty, Dwight and Dief are in the audience.)

LT Welsh to Insp Thatcher: Great huh? (Thatcher rouses up from dozing)

Insp Thatcher: Exhilarating.

Francesca to Turnbull: You know, I just can't wear hats. I don't, I don't have a hat face.

Dewey to Huey: It has to be Huey and Dewey.

Huey: Oh yeah? Why?

Dewey: Because all the great acts have two names.

Huey: Like who?

Dewey: Laurel and Hardy, Abbott and Costello, Milt and Berle.

Dunn to MacAfferty: I'm sorry I shot you, Mister.

MacAfferty: You didn't shoot me.

Dunn: Oh, that's right.

Dwight to Dief: I don't know - then everything just got worse. I lost my pick up, my momma died, had a hernia operation. (Dief growls) You gonna drink that? (Dief whimpers)

(Song ends - they take their bows)

[Fraser's room at the Consulate]

(Fraser's ironing his stetson when a knock is heard at the door)

Fraser: Come in.

Dwight: Hey.

Fraser: Hi.

Dwight: The bus is all set to go. I just thought uh - thought I'd come in and say that I'm sorry you got tangled up in this. You know money, it's got this way of making people see things funny, you know?

Fraser: Indeed. You know it's been reported that when Colonel Tom Parker heard Elvis had died, the first words out of his mouth were "This changes nothing. Double Production."

Dwight: Yeah, it can be an ugly business.

Fraser: You two going to be all right?

Dwight: Yeah sure. She needs me. Catch you down the line, Buddy.

(Tracy enters as Dwight leaves)

Tracy: Well, this is it. I came to say goodbye and to say thank you for everything.

Fraser: Oh no, I should thank you for letting me sing. It was very stirring.

Tracy: Stirring. I didn't know you could be stirred.

Fraser: I can, I - I can be stirred.

Tracy: Well, then, maybe I could interest you in seeing America through the window of a tour bus.

Fraser: I'd love to but I'm afraid that I have (looks toward picture of the Queen) obligations.

Tracy: Another woman.

Fraser: Umm.

Tracy: I thought so. I'll never forget you, Fraser. (kisses him on the cheek and leaves. Fraser looks at the Queen's picture).

Fraser: The things I do for you.



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