1
She came along the alley and up
the back stairs the way she always used to.
Doc hadn't seen her in over a year.
Nobody had.
Back then it was always sandals...
...bottom half of a flower-print bikini...
...and a faded
Country Joe and the Fish T-shirt.
Tonight, she was all in flatland gear...
...hair a lot shorter than he remembered...
...looking just like she swore
she would never look.
Psst.
That you, Shasta?
Thinks he's hallucinating.
No, just a new package, I guess.
I need your help, Doc.
You know I have an office now?
It's like a day job and everything.
I looked in the phone book
and almost went over there.
Then I thought better for everyone
if this looks like a secret rendezvous.
Is somebody keeping a close eye?
Just spent an hour on surface streets
trying to make it look good.
Uh...
You want a beer?
How about a beer? You want a beer?
Yeah.
Uh...
There's this guy.
Gentleman of the straight-world persuasion?
Okay, Doc.
He's married.
Some, uh, money situation?
And the wife, uh, she knows about you?
She's seeing somebody too.
But it's not just the usual.
I think they're working
on some creepy, little scheme.
To make off with the hubby's fortune?
Yeah, I think I've heard
of that happening once or twice.
And you want me to do, uh, what exactly?
Is they want me in on it.
They think I'm the one who can reach him
when he's vulnerable.
Or as much as he ever gets.
Bare-ass and asleep.
I knew you'd understand.
Are you still trying to figure out
if it's right or wrong?
Worse than that.
How much loyalty I owe him.
Groovy.
All right...
...emotions aside,
let's look at the rent.
How much of, uh, your rent's
he been picking up?
- All of it.
- Pretty, uh, hefty?
For Hancock Park?
You're giving him IOUs
for everything, of course.
You fucker. If I had known you
were still this bitter...
Me? I'm trying to be professional, is all.
All right.
How much have the, uh, wifey
and boyfriend offered to cut you in for?
It isn't what you're thinking.
Don't worry. Thinking comes later.
What else?
I'm not sure.
It sounds like they wanna commit him
to a loony bin.
Back when they were together...
...she could go weeks without anything
more complicated than a pout.
Now she was laying some heavy combination
of face ingredients...
...on Doc that he couldn't read at all.
Argh. Fuck.
SORTILEGE". Come to think of it, there'd
never been this much sorrow in her voice.
Heard you're seeing someone downtown?
Penny?
Some kind of junior DA?
Yeah, you think, uh, somebody down there
could stop this before it happens?
Not too many places
I could go with this, Doc.
I'll talk to Penny.
See what we can see.
Your happy couple, they have names?
It's Mickey Wolfmann.
Who's always in the paper?
The real-estate big shot?
Yeah.
Can't tell anyone about this, Doc.
Oh.
Huh.
Deaf and dumb, part of my job.
How do I reach you?
You don't.
I moved out of my old place.
Staying where I can anymore.
Don't ask.
There's room here.
Walk me down to my car?
Someone might be watching.
- You never did let me down, Doc.
- Don't worry. I'll...
No, I mean, really. Ever.
Sure I did.
No. You were always true.
You know, you don't have to go.
Watch your toes.
Vroom.
Doc ran through ail the things
he hadn't asked Shasta.
Like how much she'd come to depend on...
Wolfmann's guaranteed level
of ease and power.
And least askable of all:
How passionately did she really feel
about old Mickey?
- Hey, what's up, Doc?
- Hey, Denis.
What's up, man?
What's going on? Doing all right?
Doc knew the likely reply:
"I love him. What else?"
With the unspoken footnote...
...that the word these days
was being way too overused.
What you looking at?
You hungry?
Like Godzilla says to Mothra, man:
"Let's go eat someplace."
So when Doc and Denis came in that night...
...it wasn't just the
usual hungry doper thing.
It was something else.
And with Neptune moving
at last out of the Scorpio death-trip...
...and rising into the Sagittarian light
of the higher mind...
...it was bound to be
something love-related.
And I thought I knew what it was.
80...?
She stuck her head in for a minute.
You feeling broken up?
Kind of weird seeing her again, you know?
Yeah, I figured next time I saw her,
it'd be on the tube.
Not in person.
- Well, you'd better do something about this.
- Heh.
Yeah, again?
Can't tell you enough:
Change your hair, change your life.
Mm.
Mm. Well, what do you recommend?
It's up to you.
Follow your intuition.
Hello?
Hey, Aunt Reel'?
- Hello?
- Yes, honey. Make it quick.
I got a live one tonight,
and I totally fucked up my face.
Aw. Oh, okay. Mickey Wolfmann,
what can you tell me?
Powerhouse in L.A. real estate.
From the desert to the sea.
Technically Jewish, but wants to be a Nazi.
What's he to you?
Possible case.
Let's say I wanted to hang out
and rap with this Wolfmann.
Say it's a really bad idea.
He goes around with a dozen bikers,
mostly Aryan Brotherhood alumni.
Whoa, whoa, whoa. Wait.
I flunked Social Studies...
...but, uh, Jews and Aryan Brotherhood...
...isn't there something about hatred?
No. Mickey's eccentric.
More and more lately.
I'd say, stoned out of his fucking mind
since he discovered drugs.
No offense to you, Doc.
So where would I, uh, find him?
Like accidentally?
Try the Channel View Estates,
his latest insult to the environment.
The one that Bigfoot Bjornsen
does the commercials for?
- That's the one.
- Uh-huh.
Maybe your old cop buddy's the one
who should be taking care of your case.
Yeah, well, I did think
about going to Bigfoot with this...
...but just as I reached for the phone,
history and all, I thought:
Mmm...
Well, maybe you're better off
with the Nazis. DOC: Heh.
All right, all right.
I got major liquid-liner issues-
I gotta get off now, Larry.
All right.
Morning, Sam.
Hey, man.
I don't want you paying rent.
Rent's a hassle.
I wanna see you in your own pad...
Howdy, Bigfoot.
MAN 2".
...at Channel View Estates...
...Artesia's newest and grooviest
residential housing development.
No buzzkill credit checks.
No rip-off minimum down payments.
That's not your bag.
But check this out:
Fully-equipped kitchen with automatic
self-cleaning oven and breakfast nook.
Out of sight.
Attached one-car
and available two-car garage.
And best of ail...
...a view of the Dominguez
Flood Control Channel...
...that can only be described in two words:
Right on.
So, what's all this now?
What's up, Doc?
What...?
"Michael Wolfmann, one of Los Angeles's
most prominent real estate developers...
...announced at a press conference...
...he's proceeding with construction
of several housing developments...
...the most immediate
to be Channel View Estates.
- Hey, Doc.
- Howdy.
Cop came around last night
looking for you again.
- Bigfoot?
- Yeah. That's the one.
Huh.
I wonder why he didn't kick in my door
like usual.
He might've been thinking about it, but said
something like, "Tomorrow's another day."
Which would be today, right?
Not if I can help it.
All right, "Wolfmann,
known for his outlandish advertising...
...and aggressive style, has been...
...involved in the Southern
California real estate market..."
...for the past 23 fucking years, you know.
- Morning, Doc.
- Hey. Morning, Petunia.
- I love your Afro. Uh-huh.
- Oh, yeah? Thank you.
Oh, Doc. You have someone
waiting in your office.
- Doctor.
- Doctor.
Hey, man. Sorry to, uh, keep you waiting.
- Dr. Sportello?
- That's right. What it is, my brother.
Peace. I'm Tariq Khalil.
Cool.
Sit down.
What's up, man? How can I help you today?
There's this white boy I was in the
joint with. Aryan Brotherhood.
We did some business, and, uh,
now we're both out and he still owes me.
I can't tell you the details,
but it's a whole lot of money.
Mm. How about his name?
Glen Charlock.
Mm-hm.
And, urn, you know where he's staying now?
I know where he works.
He's a bodyguard
for this builder named Wolfmann.
If you don't mind my asking, Mr. Khalil,
how'd you hear about me?
Sledge. Sledge Poteet.
Wow.
Blast from the past. Far out.
Yeah.
He said you helped him out
of a situation back in '67.
First time I got shot at.
If you don't mind an obvious question...
...you, uh, know where
this Glen Charlock works.
Why not, uh, just go over there
and look him up directly?
Well, because Wolfmann likes to surround
himself with the Aryan Brotherhood.
Day and night.
And, see, outside of Glen,
I ain't never liked the company of Nazis.
Mm-hm. So, uh, send some white guy
to get his head hammered?
- More or less.
- Mm.
Now when you were inside,
were you in a gang?
The Black Guerrilla Family.
And you say you did business with who now?
The Aryan Brotherhood?
Listen...
...we found we share some of the similar
opinions about the U.S. government.
That's all.
I can dig.
There's something else?
Matter of fact, there is.
My old street gang. The Artesia Crips.
See, when I came home from Chino...
...I looked for them
and found it ain't just them gone...
...but the whole damn turf itself.
What do you mean "gone"?
Man, I'm talking not there.
Ground up into little pieces.
Seagulls picking all over it.
Man, I thought I was tripping.
Got in my car, I drove around,
came back, still gone.
Nothing. Nobody. Just a ghost town.
With a big sign that said,
Corning to this site soon.
- With a big-ass ugly picture of some houses.
- Mm-hm.
- And guess who the builder is?
- Let me guess...
Wolfmann again.
Okay. Can you show me
up here on the map?
Long, sad history of L.A. land use.
Mexican families bounced out
of Chavez Ravine...
...to build Dodger Stadium.
American Indians swept out
of Bunker Hill for the Music Center.
And now Tariq's neighborhood...
...bulldozed aside for
Channel View Estates.
Hello?
Hi. I'm Jade.
Welcome to Chick Planet Massage.
Take note of today's Pussy Eater's Special,
which is good all day till closing time.
- How much is it?
- Fourteen ninety-five.
Well, not that 14.95 ain't
a totally groovy price...
...but I'm trying to locate this guy
who works for Mr. Wolfmann.
Oh, does he eat pussy?
Fella named Glen Charlock?
Oh, sure, Glen. He comes in here.
He eats pussy.
Well, Glen and I were in Chino around
the same time. You seen him today?
Are you a cop?
Nope.
The reason I ask is if you were a cop...
...you'd be entitled to a free preview
of our special.
Well, how about a licensed Pl?
Hey, Bambi!
Oh, my...
Oh, do...? Um...
Where do we, um...?
Not you, Bong Brain.
See, I thought here, where it says
Pussy Eater's Special...
...is what that means is...
That's groovy.
Congratulations, hippie scum.
And welcome to a world of inconvenience.
Well, morning, Sam.
Like a bad luck planet
in today's horoscope...
where's the old hippie-hating
mad dog himself in the flesh:
Lieutenant Detective
Christian F. Bigfoot Bjornsen.
SAG member, John Wayne walk,
flattop of Flintstone proportions...
...and that little evil-shit twinkle in his
eye that says "civil rights violations."
What's up, Doc?
How about your ex-girlfriend?
Shasta...
F8Y... '
...Hepworth.
Shasta Fay Hepworth.
She is a known intimate
of Glen's employer, Mickey Wolfmann.
But do you think
that Glen and Shasta were...
...F-U-C-K-I-N-G-ing?
Fucking-ing?
Is that why you killed him?
- Bigfoot...
- How does it make you feel?
Here you are still carrying the torch...
...and there she is in the company
of all those Nazi lowlifes?
Keep doing that, Bigfoot.
You're giving me a hard-on.
Tough little wop monkey,
as my friend Fatso Judson always says.
So while suspect, that's you...
...is having alleged midday nap
so necessary to the hippie lifestyle...
...some sort of incident occurs
in the vicinity of Channel View Estates.
Firearms are discharged. When the dust
settles, we find one Glen Charlock deceased.
But more compellingly for L.A.P.D. is the
man Charlock was supposed to be guarding.
Michael Z. Wolfmann has vanished...
...giving local law enforcement
less than 24 hours...
...before the Feds call it a kidnapping
and come in to fuck everything up.
So perhaps, Sportello,
you can help forestall this...
...by providing the names
of the other members of your cult.
Cult?
No one would be stupid enough
to attempt this alone...
...which suggests some kind
of Mansonoid conspiracy. Agree?
No.
Look, I've been referred to...
...m0re than one time by the L.A. Times...
...as a Renaissance detective. Okay?
Which means I am many things.
One thing I am not is stupid...
...so purely out of noblesse oblige, I
extend this assumption to cover you as well.
What the fuck?
Hey, Saunch.
What's up, Doc?
You know you have no case here.
So if you're gonna charge him, you better.
Otherwise, you have to let him go.
Remember who this is you're talking to.
That's Bigfoot Bjornsen. Renaissance cop.
I know who he is.
So, what's the beef here, exactly?
t doesn't have much to do with your
specialty, which I understand is marine law?
We got plenty of crime on the high seas.
Okay, well, so far, we have murder.
And kidnapping.
We can work in pirates
if it would make you more comfortable.
Either way, it's high-profile.
Yeah, but, um...
...given your history of harassment with
my client, this'll never make it to trial.
No, I think we could take this to trial...
...but with our luck, you know,
the jury pool will be 99 percent...
...hippie.
Unless you change the venue
to, like, Orange County.
Not as many hippies there, you know?
Saunch, who you working for?
Clients pay me for work, Doc.
Clients pay me for work, Doc.
So?
I've decided I'm gonna kick Mr. Sportello.
You're gonna kick him?
Well, that's assault.
I think it's police slang, Saunch.
It means out me loose."
I'll release the suspect
at the impound garage.
Promise?
I promise.
Apparently, a party of
civilians on some training exercise...
...in anti-guerrilla warfare.
They assumed that this construction site...
...not yet open for occupancy...
...was deserted enough
to provide a realistic setting...
...for what we must assume
was only a harmless patriotic scenario.
Tragically, however, live ammunition somehow
found its way into these war games...
...and tonight, one ex-prison inmate lies
slain while prominent construction mogul...
...Michael Wolfmann has vanished.
- Hello?
- Hey, it's me.
Hey.
Listen, we, uh...
We sent a police academy hotshot
over to the last known address...
...of Shasta Fay Hepworth.
Oh, fuck. No, not this.
Yeah, they got there, and it was, uh...
- They looked in the window and...
- What?
What?
They tried to open the door,
and she's just, uh...
They went in and, you know.
Phew.
You know, she's gone.
Sportello, she's gone.
She's out there, man.
- Out there?
- Yeah.
What does that mean?
She's disappeared, just like Mickey.
Maybe you'd think there was a connection.
- She's disappeared?
- Yeah, she's gone, man. Baby.
She's gone. She disappeared. What...?
She went all groovy on us.
You know, Bigfoot, man.
Can we just try to be fucking professional?
I mean, just pretend to be professional.
Shasta Fay Hepworth. She's gone.
Fuck you.
Doc could never figure out
what Shasta might've seen in him...
...besides being just about the only doper
she knew who didn't use heroin...
...freeing up a lot of
time for both of them.
And it wasn't any clearer
about what had driven them apart either.
They each gradually located
a different karmic thermal...
...watching the other glide away
into different fates.
Does it ever end?
Of course it does.
It did.
Hello?
Hello?
- Mr. Sportello?
- Mm-hm.
I got your number from the head shop.
Down in Gordita Beach.
Pm calling about my husband.
He was a...
...close friend of a friend of yours.
Shasta Fay Hep worth.
Uh-huh. And, um, your name is...?
- Hope Harlingen.
- Mm-hm.
And your husband is...?
Dead.
I'm sorry to hear that.
- Do you want a cookie?
- I'm all right.
So you never heard of him or his music?
Mmm...
Inside the surf-sax category
he was this towering figure...
...because he improvised once in a while.
Instead of repeating the second
and third chorus note for note.
Mm-hm. Mm-hm.
Coy and I should've met cute,
but we actually met squalid.
Down at Oscar's in San Ysidro.
Oh, boy.
I had just run into this bathroom stall
without checking first...
...and I already had my finger
down my throat to vomit up...
...this big balloon of dope
I had just scored...
...and there Coy sat, gringo digestion,
about to take this giant shit.
And we both let go at the same time...
...and there's just vomit
and shit all over the place...
...and with my head in his lap.
And to complicate things,
he had this hard-on.
Sure.
One thing leads to another and...
We pretty much started shooting up
together on a regular basis.
Then along comes little Amethyst.
I don't know
if you have the stomach for it, but...
This is...
...what we had her looking like.
Everybody helpfully pointed out how...
...the heroin was actually coming
through my breast milk...
Mm-hm.
...but who could afford formula, you know?
It's a long way from where we are now.
Yeah, no, seems like
you're doing real good.
I'm a drug counselor.
- Sorry?
- A drug counselor.
Uh-huh.
Trying to talk kids into sensible drug use.
- What do you think of my chompers?
- Hmm.
You like them?
No... I... Yes. Yeah. No, I hadn't noticed.
Heroin sucks the calcium out
of your body like a vampire.
If you use it for any length of time,
your teeth just go all to hell.
And that's the good part.
So listen, this thing that happened
to your husband, how can I help you?
Mr. Sportello,
I don't think Coy is really dead.
Well, did you ID his body?
No.
Whoever it was that called...
...just said that one
of his band members did that.
What do you mean "whoever called"?
The police?
I mean, it's, uh, supposed
to be next of kin.
And then this deposit shows up.
Close to his disappearance.
Interesting sum.
Why would this big deposit
just suddenly appear in my account?
I went to the bank.
I talked to the bank manager.
He kept saying:
You just lost your deposit slip."
You just lost your deposit slip."
And I don't lose deposit slips this big.
Do you have a picture of Coy
I could borrow?
That, I do have.
These were perilous times,
astrologically speaking, for dopers...
...especially those of high school age.
Who'd been born, most of them,
under a 90-degree aspect...
...the unluckiest angle possible...
...between Neptune, the doper's planet...
...and Uranus,
the planet of rude surprises.
Doc had known it to happen...
...that those left behind would refuse
to believe that people they loved...
...or even took the same classes with,
were really dead.
They came up with all kinds of alternate
stories so it wouldn't have to be true.
- Yeah.
- How did Coy and Shasta know each other?
She picked us up hitchhiking once.
I think Coy and her stayed in touch
somehow. I don't really know for sure.
All right, well, uh, I'll call you
when I know something.
Thank you.
See you.
Shasta had mentioned
a possible laughing academy angle...
...to Mickey Wolfmann's matrimonial drama.
And Doc thought
it might be interesting to see...
...how society-page superstar
Mrs. Sloane Wolfmann would react...
...when somebody brought up the topic.
If Mickey was currently being held against
his will in some private nuthouse...
...then Doc's immediate chore would
be to try and find out which one.
Do you like the lighting?
Uh-huh.
Jimmy Wong Howe did it for us.
Years ago.
Luz!
The midday refrescos now,
if you wouldn't mind.
Shall we sit?
Now, your husband was planning
to endow a new wing for our facility.
He actually tendered us a sum in advance.
Somehow, it didn't seem right
to keep the money...
...while little was known
of his whereabouts.
So we'd like to refund you the sum.
And if, and as we all pray...
...when Mr. Wolfmann is heard from again,
why then, perhaps...
...the process can resume again.
We did recently endow another facility.
In Ojai.
- In Ojai?
- The Chryskylodon Institute.
Kriskleddone?
It's an ancient Indian word
that means "serenity."
Ah, of course.
Are you somehow a subsidiary?
Perhaps one of our Sister Sanatoria?
Mr. Riggs Warbling.
My spiritual coach.
- How do you do?
- Pleasurable.
If you tell us where to send the
refund and what form you'd like it in...
Small bills!
With nonconsecutive serial numbers.
Riggs! Enough.
He's always making these terrible jokes.
I'm so sorry.
Perhaps if a company officer...
...simply endorsed Michael's check
back to one of his accounts.
Of course. Let us know the account number
and it's as good as in the mail.
- Let me find you a deposit form.
- Wonderful.
So this is Riggs.
The spiritual adviser.
And there's Sloane.
Maybe not so much English rose
as English daffodil.
And this is L.A.P.D., busy as ever.
Protecting and sewing.
Getting in some last-minute free catering
before the Feds show up.
And there's Luz,
the sexy Chicane housekeeper.
Or pretending to be?
Some kidnapping.
Doc would bet an ounce of seedless Hawaiian
and throw in a pack of Zig-Zags...
...that Sloane and old Riggs here
were fucking regularly.
And that this was
the BF Shasta had mentioned.
Did Shasta have a room of her own here?
Or did they all just cozy up together?
Holy shit!
I'm ticklish, babe.
Oh, I like that.
Keep looking. I'm in there somewhere.
- Oh, yeah?
- Yeah.
On, Vicky.
Oh, Roxy.
Carol, Sloane...
Cute, huh?
My tits aren't really that big,
but it's the thought that counts.
Now, did, uh, all of you ladies
pose for these?
A guy over in North Hollywood
does custom work.
And what about that, uh,
girl that's gone missing?
Shasta?
- Yeah, she's in there someplace.
- Yeah?
You know Mickey used to take me
in the shower to fuck?
Oh, yeah?
Uh-huh. And I never got to do anything
on that groovy bed in there.
Luz!
- Ah. Another time, perhaps?
- Mm-hm.
Ooh. Black girl.
Bigfoot.
SORTILEGE". Something had been
puzzling Doc now for a while.
Namely, what, exactly, the fuck,
was with Bigfoot here?
As much as he'd like to stay and chat...
...he had a lunch date to keep
with part-time squeeze...
...Deputy DA Penny Kimball.
It was only because someone else had
canceled that she was able to pencil him in.
And Doc didn't wanna fuck up her act,
considering they were meeting in public.
Hi.
This Wolfmann-Charlock case...
Apparently, one of your girlfriends
is a principal.
I just heard that she skipped.
Let me put it to you like this:
How close were you
with Shasta Fay Hepworth?
I've been asking myself that very question.
It was all over years ago.
- Months? I don't know.
- Years?
If you hadn't come along,
who knows how bad it might've got?
- True. You were a mess when I met you.
- And how about now?
Old times aside, have you had any contact
with her in the last, say, week or so?
Well, funny you should ask.
She called me up a couple days ago
before Mickey Wolfmann disappeared.
Told me how his wife and her boyfriend...
...were plotting to hustle Mickey
and grab all his money.
So I sure hope that you guys or the cops
or whoever are looking into that.
With your years of experience as a Pl,
would you call that a reliable lead?
I've known worse.
Oh, I can dig.
You're just gonna ignore that?
Some hippie chick with boyfriend trouble,
brains mushed up with dope and sex?
I've never seen you so emotional.
The lights are out.
Never seen you during the day.
You didn't tell Bjornsen any of this
when he pulled you in at the crime scene.
That's because I promised Shasta
I'd come talk to you first, right?
See if anybody at the DA could help out
with this. I tried to call you.
- Day and night. No reply.
- You tried to call me. Really?
Yeah. Look, I forgot. I don't know.
Look, all know is the next thing...
...Shasta's missing, Wolfmann's gone
and, uh, Glen Charlock's dead.
Bjornsen seems to think
you're as good a suspect as any.
"Seems to"? Wait a minute.
You been talking to Bigfoot about me?
Doc, please.
Besides, maybe you did it.
Has that crossed your mind?
- Maybe you just forgot?
- What? Did do what?
Killed Glen Charlock.
- Kill him?
- Yeah.
What?
How would I forget something like that?
- Grass, and who knows what else.
- I'm only a light smoker.
- How many joints have you had today?
- Check the logbook.
Can't remember?
I don't see how my smoking has any link
to the Wolfmann-Charlock-Shasta case.
No?
Then how come Miss Hepworth
dismantled your relationship?
She had other fish to fry.
- Would you say you're still in love with her?
- Mm.
No.
Take off your glasses.
No.
I'm not... Wait. What is this?
Hectic week ahead for me, so unless things
heat up dramatically, I hope you understand.
Walk me back to work?
I'm Agent Flatweed.
This is Agent Borderline. FBI.
- I'm with...
- I have to use the bathroom.
It's been brought to our attention...
...you had a visit from a black prison
militant calling himself Tariq Khalil.
We naturally became curious.
Let's talk upstairs, Larry.
Did I miss an episode?
I love you guys every Sunday night, 8 p.m.
We like investigating and spending energy
on Black Nationalist Hate Groups.
It's the chronology, really.
Khalil visits your place of business.
The next day, a known prison acquaintance
of his, Glen Charlock, is slain...
...Michael Wolfmann disappears
and you get arrested on suspicion...
...and, somewhat
mysteriously, let go again.
Yeah. Well, have you talked
to Bigfoot Bjornsen about this?
He's real intelligent
about this kind of shit.
Mr. Bjornsen's antipathy
at the federal level is well known.
Heh. Ah, some guys are like that.
- Mm.
- So, what is it you want with me?
Ordinarily, we're the ones
asking the questions here.
Sure thing, fellas.
But aren't we all in the same business?
There's no need to be insulting.
Why don't you just tell us
what Mr. Khalil had to say...
...when he visited you the other day.
Because he's privileged
and I'm a client is why.
If it has a bearing on the Wolfmann
case, then we may have to disagree.
Look, I really wish
I could help you guys out, but...
...if you're so focused
on the Black Panthers...
...then what's with your interest
in Mickey Wolfmann?
Is somebody playing Monopoly, uh,
with federal housing money?
Are you figuring Mickey's kidnapping
is a Black Panther operation?
They put the snatch on Mickey,
trying to prove a political point...
...or maybe a nice shot
at some ransom money?
Maybe you've thought of putting that forward
as a cover story for whatever did happen.
Do you realize how thoroughly
we can fuck your life up?
Huh. Uh-huh.
Right.
Can I be frank a minute?
- Why stop now?
- Please.
All right. You be Dino.
You be the other guy.
And tell Penny Davis, Jr.
What a lovely day we had. Thank you.
As a COINTELPRO informant, you could
be making up to $300 a month, Larry.
Just consider that.
U.S. dollars?
And we'll throw in a Book of Mormon.
Free.
Doc, a mysterious,
young oriental cutie...
...just dropped off a package for you
at the front desk.
Well...
...it's dark and lonely work,
but somebody's gotta do it, right?
Heard they cut you loose.
Need to see you about something.
I'm working weeknights
at Club Asiatique in San Pedro.
Love and peace, Jade.
P.S. Beware the Golden Fang!
I can't stay out here long.
This is Golden Fang territory.
A girl don't necessarily wanna get
into difficulties with those folks.
What is it? A band?
You wish.
I just wanted to say how sorry I was.
I felt shitty about what I did.
- Which was what again?
- I'm not a snitch.
The cops said they'd drop charges
if we put you in the scene...
...which they already knew you were.
- I'm, like, so sorry, Larry.
- Call me Doc. It's cool, Jade.
- That copper?
- Mm, Bigfoot?
He's a warped sheet of plastic.
Mm. So was it Bigfoot who put me
on the Buenos Noches Express...
...or did he subcontract it?
I missed all that, man. Last thing
I remember was eating Bambi's pussy...
...and Puck Beaverton's tattoo,
like, it was pulsating.
Puck...? What's a Puck Beaverton?
He's a baldheaded asshole with a
swastika tattoo you don't wanna meet.
We were so freaked with the BadAss Brigade
stomping in there, we didn't stick around.
There's somebody who wants to talk to you.
He thinks you can help each other out.
He's a new face. I'm not sure of his name,
but I know he's in some trouble.
I would've come by your office, man...
...but I thought
there might be unfriendly eyeballs.
Hi.
Well, is this safe enough for you out here?
Let's light this
and pretend we came out to smoke.
- All right.
- I'm supposed to be dead.
There's also a rumor that you're not.
That don't come as such great news.
Being dead is part of my job image.
Like what I do.
You working for these people at the club?
I don't know. Maybe.
It's where I pick up my paycheck.
Where are you staying?
House in Topanga Canyon.
Band I used to play for, The Boards.
But none of them know it's me.
How can they not know it's you?
Even when I was alive,
they didn't know it was me.
- The sax player. The session guy.
- Mm.
Plus, over the years,
there's been a big turnover in personnel.
Like, The Boards I played with...
...most of them have gone off
and formed other bands.
Only one or two of the old crew left...
...and, luckily, they're suffering
from heavy Doper's Memory.
Mm.
Story is you came to grief
behind some bad smack.
You still into that?
No.
No.
I'm clean these days.
I spent my time rehabilitating up in...
- You know, I...
- t's okay.
How can I talk about what I don't hear?
Yeah.
The thing I wanted to see you about...
...I was wondering
if you could check on people.
A lady and a little girl.
See if they're okay,
without bringing me into it.
It's down in Torrance.
Just see if they're still living there.
See what's in the driveway.
Law enforcement in the picture,
any details you find interesting.
All right, I'm on it.
I can't pay you right now.
When you can.
Unless you believe information is money...
...in which case,
I could ask you something.
Bearing in mind that either I don't know...
...or it's my ass if I tell you...
...what is it?
Ever heard of the Golden Fang?
Sure. It's a boat.
- A boat?
- A big schooner, somebody said.
Brings stuff in and out of the country,
but no one wants to talk about it.
Because?
That was it.
How do you know?
Saw it sail in when I got here tonight.
I don't know what I just saw.
Me neither.
Fact, I don't even wanna know.
- Okay.
- Coy.
Doc figured it might
have been easier to let Coy know...
...that Hope and little Amethyst
were doing just fine.
But he had a rule against getting involved
in matrimonials...
"which had just gone up in smoke...
"like the Asian indica in the joint
they'd been smoking...
...creating an extra layer of fog on top of
the one Doc was already standing inside of.
Meet the schooner Golden Fang,
out of Charlotte Amalie.
- Where is that?
- U.S. Virgin Islands.
- Bermuda Triangle?
- Close enough.
Sizable vessel.
She has a tendency to show up here
in the middle of the night...
...no running lights...
...no radio traffic.
See, the problem with this vessel
is trying to find out anything.
People back off, change the subject
and get real creepy.
The owners are listed
as a consortium in the Bahamas.
Her real name isn't really the Golden Fang.
She was originally a fishing boat
named Preserved.
Then after World War ll,
she was bought by Burke Stodger.
Burke Stodger. Burke Stodger the actor?
.45-Caliber Kissoff Burke Stodger?
The movie star.
What?
He gets blacklisted because of his politics
and branded a communist.
So he takes the boat, splits the country...
...which is where
your Bermuda Triangle comes in.
Hi. I'm Chlorinda. How can I help you?
Uh, well, I'm gonna have
the house anchovy loaf to start...
...and, um, the devil ray filet.
Can I get that deep-fried in beer batter?
It's your stomach.
What can I get for you, little buddy?
Mm, I'll take the jellyfish teriyaki
croquettes and the eel Trovatore, please.
Okay. And to drink, gentlemen?
You'll wanna get fucked
up before this meal.
That's for sure.
I have some recommendations.
Maybe the, uh, Tequila Zombie.
- Make it two.
- All right.
Thank you.
So Burke's blacklisted, takes the boat,
splits the country.
Somewhere between San Pedro and Papeete,
the boat disappears...
...till one day a couple years later...
...the boat and the owner
suddenly reappear.
- You dig?
- Mm-hm.
The Preserved is in the opposite ocean,
off of Cuba...
...and Burke Stodger on the front page
of the Daily Variety...
...in an article reporting
his return to pictures...
...in a major motion picture
called Commie Confidential.
Whoa. So Burke's working again.
And his politics have miraculously changed.
And the ship?
Man, they removed any traces of soul
that she once had.
It's a horror story.
Are you emotionally involved?
With the boat?
She's not just a boat, Doc.
She's much more than that.
All right.
Well, I know why I'm so interested.
But why are you?
A story I heard the other night,
something about a smuggling angle.
And the story you heard...
...did it happen to include
Mickey Wolfmann?
Not so far. Why?
According to scuttlebutt,
shortly before he disappeared...
...Mickey Wolfmann was seen taking
the Golden Fang out for a three-hour tour.
Or should I say:
A three-hour tour
And, uh, was he accompanied
by his lovely companion?
Okay.
- My fucking ex, old Shasta Fay?
- I know.
I know who she is. But, Doc, I thought
you were done with all that sad bullshit.
Listen, did everybody make it back okay?
Nobody was pushed overboard,
nothing like that?
Actually, the word I'm hearing is that Mickey
Wolfmann might not be as missing as we think.
Like gone but not gone?
Man, you're gonna love this.
The rumor is that the Department
of Justice is trying to broker...
- Uh-uh-uh.
- Here you go.
Thank you.
I'm hearing that the
Department of Justice...
...is trying to broker
a Vegas deal for him.
Doesn't compute. Say again.
Vegas. Wolfmann.
FBI stuff.
They need somebody else on the Strip
who's not Italian.
You dig?
Like Howard Hughes
when he bought the Desert Inn.
Howard Hughes was Italian?
No. They want white people.
They want white, Anglo owners on the Strip.
Who better than Mickey Wolfmann?
Hello?
Hello?
All right, Doc.
So she just departed San Pedro
on board the Golden Fang.
- Who?
- Your ex, Shasta Fay.
Shasta's on the Golden Fang?
My friend in the DOJ just called me, yeah.
- All right, where's it going?
- Out at sea some place.
- Huh?
- Out at sea some place and...
Yeah, where?
Not known. Not known.
Hang tight. I'm gonna get back to you.
All right, cool. Call me...
Penny Kimball, Deputy DA.
Hey.
Who is this?
It's me.
Where did you get this number?
It's Doc.
Oh.
I thought you'd never want
to speak to me again.
Mm. Didn't, uh...
I didn't mind talking to the FBI.
PENNY".
Am I in trouble?
I don't know. Are you?
It's an awful nice night
out here at the beach.
Hmm.
But you're a dirty, filthy hippie.
What would a nice clean girl
like me do with you?
Well, you could, uh...
...bring your soap and clean my feet.
No, thank you.
But then again, I could bring you a pizza.
can hear your pants growing.
80...?
I'll be there in an hour.
And wash your feet first.
Problems for which government has...
Freedom.
Heavy on the "dumb."
The moral and spiritual crisis in
the universities would still exist.
The destructive activists
of our universities...
That's the best thing I've heard all day.
You want one?
Nixon downplayed the antiwar message...
inherent in the New
Year's bombers' attack.
When he called on the vigilant California
to take back cities and universities...
...he was interrupted by a heckler.
Hey! Tricky Dick! Fuck you!
You listen to me when I say that to you!
Fuck you! Fuck everybody in the family!
Now, what the fuck?
He's identified as
unemployed UCLA student Rick Doppel.
- Who?
- Oh, Doppler? That's no hippie.
That's Chucky.
Yeah? Is it a friend of yours?
MAN 2". Secret Service took
the man for questioning...
Everybody knows Chucky.
If he's not at the Hall of Justice,
he's down at the Glass House.
A snitch?
An informant, please.
And he only works with the Red Squad.
Whoa. So, what's he...? Why is he screaming
and yelling like that at Nixon again?
Now that he's been on TV,
he has instant and wide credibility.
Police can infiltrate him
into any group they want to.
Bastards.
- Do you love me?
- Any group.
SORTILEGE Hmm...
A snitch. A spy. A weasel.
And dang...
...if it ain't a resurrected tenor
sax player, working undercover.
But for who?
These patriotic pals of President Nixon
called Vigilant California?
Some other unseen hand?
Now, who am I again?
You're the photographer.
- And the name of the magazine is...?
- Stone Turntable.
Mm-hm.
Coy's band, The Boards, were currently
renting a place in Topanga Canyon...
...from a bass player turned
record company executive...
...which trend watchers took as further
evidence of the end of Hollywood...
...if not the world, as they had known it.
Doc and Denis hadn't dropped acid
for years in this town...
...without picking up
some kind of extrasensory chops.
And truth was, since crossing
the doorsill of this place...
...they couldn't help noticing
what you would call an atmosphere.
Thank you.
Ooh.
What are you doing here?
I drove up with Bambi.
She heard Spotted Dick were here...
...so I had to come along
and keep her out of trouble.
She's possessed. She's got Spotted
Dick posters on the walls...
...sheets and pillow cases,
T-shirts, souvenir roach clips.
All right, she's keen on the Dick.
It's 24 hours a day.
She's got Spotted Dick albums on stereo.
Okay, yeah, now listen.
I'm looking for that guy that I met
at Club Asiatique the other night.
- He's here.
- Yeah? Where?
- He's in the kitchen.
- The kitchen?
Hey, before you leave.
Can I get a ride with you?
- This place is freaking me out.
- Mm...
Okay.
Good evening, Larry Sportello,
Stone Turntable magazine.
- Smedley, Spotted Dick, keyboards.
- Mm-hm.
Was it possible that at every gathering...
Concert, peace rally,
love-in, be-in and freak-in...
...here, up North, back East, wherever.
Some dark crews had been busy all along...
...reclaiming the music,
the resistance to power...
...the sexual desire
from epic to everyday...
...all they could sweep up,
for the ancient forces of greed and fear.
"Gee," he thought, "I don't know."
Hey.
Hi.
Hi there. Remember me, Larry Sportello?
Stone Turntable magazine?
You, um, asked me
to, uh, look into that, um...
...vehicle.
- What?
- The vehicle?
Yeah, what was the make and model
that you looked at again?
You were asking about that older type VW...
...with the hearts and blue birds and...
Any replacement parts?
None I could see.
What about street legal?
Was it any hassles with registration?
Didn't seem to be any...
- You saw Hope?
- Yeah, for a minute.
She's okay.
Looks like she's been staying clean too.
How'd she do it?
I don't know.
She's, uh, back teaching is all she said.
You know, public health,
drug awareness, something like that.
- Where?
- Where? I don't know.
She didn't say.
It doesn't matter.
No way I could ever go back to them.
All right, man.
Look, you can't go back to them?
Who? Because what? Why?
Because it would be my ass
and my family's too.
It's like a gang. It's like once
you're in, you're in for life.
Did you know that
when you signed up?
All I knew was we couldn't do each other
any good staying together.
The baby looked like shit,
getting worse every day.
We were just getting fucked up
and sitting there and saying:
"Well, we gotta do something.
You're dragging us down, and..."
Listen, I'm not asking you
to give away any secrets here.
But I think I saw you on the tube
at a rally for Nixon.
And your question is,
Which side am I on?
Yes.
Well, you know,
these people here have money.
It's not like those Bible freaks that go up
and down the beach, like, screaming at you.
They really wanna help.
I thought it was something good to do
for my country.
Stupid as that sounds.
But what I really found out was...
...they just wanna, like, use us
and keep the membership in line.
"My country, right or wrong"
with Vietnam going on...
...it's just fucking crazy.
Suppose your mom was on smack.
My mom?
Yeah, what would you do?
- You know, wouldn't you try to help her?
- Yeah. I think...
Are you saying that the U.S.
is somebody's mom?
And she's, um, strung out?
- I'm trying to...
- On what?
On sending people off to die
in jungles for no reason.
Something wrong and suicidal about that
that she can't stop.
Mmm...
And Vigilant California, or whoever it is
you're working for, wouldn't buy that?
I don't belong here, man.
I do get the feeling
you'd rather be someplace else.
Yeah. Back where I was would be nice.
See, if I did just run a fast check...
...and happened to find some angle
that you haven't thought of...
Listen, nothing personal, but there's
too much you haven't thought of.
Man, I can dig.
You're trying to chase me off of this.
Whatever it is that you're caught inside,
I'm out here on the outside of it.
And I can, you know, move in ways
that you may not be able to.
Shh. How'd the baby look? Amethyst.
Oh, man. A sweetie pie.
- She looked good?
- Yeah.
- No sign of them little kid blues?
- Little kid blues"?
No, that happens. They get that.
Yeah. No, none I could see...
You saw it a little bit.
I blew this solo, man.
Listen, who set you up with these people?
Where did it come from?
I mean, come on. Gimme a glimpse here, man.
Who set you up with these people?
When I first started snitching...
...I realized how often people asked
questions they already know the answers to.
They just wanna hear it from another voice.
Like one outside their head.
You better find Shasta Fay.
Shasta Fay.
Thanks for the lift, boys.
See you around. Jade. Jade.
You said in your note,
Beware of the Golden Fang."
Why am I supposed to beware of a boat?
They're an Indochinese heroin cartel.
A vertical package.
They grow it, bring it in, step on it, run
stateside networks of local street dealers...
...and take a separate percentage
off of each operation.
So you're dealing smack?
No, but they use Chick Planet
as a front to launder money.
See you around.
Reluctant, maybe even a little desperate...
...Doc figured
he had to go visit Bigfoot now.
On principle, he tried to spend as tittie
time around the Glass House as possible.
All this strange alternate cop history
and cop politics...
Cop dynasties, cop heroes and evildoers...
...saintly cops and psycho cops...
...cops too stupid to live
and cops too smart for their own good.
Insulated by secret loyalties
and codes of silence...
...from the world
they'd all been given to control.
Bigfoot's native element.
The air he breathed.
The big time he'd been so crazy to get away
from the beach and be promoted into.
Then why so grumpy, Bigfoot?
Doc remembered dimly
a story from tong past.
A rumor about a partner of Bigfoot's...
...who'd been shot and killed
a while back in the line of duty.
And ever since then,
the story went...
...Bigfoot had worked alone.
I hope this won't be another one of those
unabridged paranoid hippie monologues...
...I seem obliged to sit through.
So, what if someone dies,
but is resurrected?
Not, at first glance, a
matter for Homicide.
So who around here handles resurrections?
Bunco Squad, usually.
Does that mean the L.A.P.D. believes every,
uh, return from the dead is some kind of con?
You're dead, you're dead.
Are we talking philosophy?
That there is Coy Harlingen,
the stiff in question.
That was taken last night.
Remind me why I give a shit again?
He worked for the department
as a snitch...
...not to mention some patriotic badasses
known as Vigilant California.
They may have been in on the raid
at Channel View Estates.
Remember that place, Bigfoot?
All right.
All right, I'll look into it personally.
Sometimes,
it's just about doing the right thing.
Who are you?
Clancy Charlock.
Glen Charlock's sister, mother, sis...
Sister.
Saster." Ha, ha.
I'm so sorry about your, um, brother.
Glen was a shit.
Bound to have his series
canceled sometime.
That don't keep me from wanting
to know who his killer is.
Goodness. Did you talk to the police?
They talked to me.
Some smart-ass named Bigfoot.
He seemed less concerned with Glen's murder
than Mickey Wolfmann's disappearance.
But he's a fan of yours all right.
Said you might be able to help.
Did he now?
Did you hear the Wolfmann's working
on a way to give away all his money?
Why would he wanna do that?
He was on a guilt trip, man.
Doing tons of acid and peyote and...
Just got to a point. He felt bad...
...about making people pay
for cheap houses.
Are you gonna keep holding on
to that tank or you gonna marry it?
He wanted to build this place
in the desert...
...where people could come and live
for free, called the Arrepentimiento.
Uh-huh. Arrepentimiento.
And now, what's that mean again?
Spanish for "sorry about that."
Uh-huh.
Um...
Do you think that, um...
...you know, maybe your brother
was just, um...
...you know, doing his job
to try to prevent, um...
...whoever it was
from putting the snatch on Mickey?
That's way too fucking sentimental.
Sounds like somebody objected
to Mickey's big giveaway.
Mm.
The, uh, wife?
Business partners? Um...
Puck Beaverton.
He had the duty that day to guard Mickey.
But changed shifts with Glen
at the last minute.
Puck Beaverton.
Interesting fellow, I hear.
He's a major-league asshole.
Mm. Sounds like you dated.
Him and his roommate.
Two at a time?
That's my preference.
Well, you know where I might be able
to find this, uh, Puck fella?
Dropped out of sight after Glen's murder.
Set sail.
Heh. "Set sail"? Like on a boat?
- I don't know. Maybe.
- Mm-hm.
If you find him, you'll let me know?
Well, um, perhaps we should continue
this conversacion someplace else.
I've got a date.
Thank you.
Oh, and Miss Charlock.
I just need your contact information
from you.
- Sure.
- Okay. Here's a pen.
Hey, (lance...
...did Glen ever mention
one of Mickey's ladies...
...who goes by the name of Shasta?
The girl who's gone missing?
- That's her.
- Yeah.
She was in love with him. Deeply in love.
Oh, Shasta and Doc lived together
for a short while.
Oh.
Bummer.
Well, as someone who's been down
this particular exit ramp:
You can only cruise
the boulevards of regret so far.
Then you gotta get back up
onto the freeway again.
Yeah.
Good luck.
- See you.
- Bye now.
SHASTA".
I wish you could see these waves.
It's one more of these places a voice from
somewhere else tells you you have to be.
Remember that day with the Ouija board?
I miss those days...
...and I miss you.
Nothing was supposed
to happen this way, Doc.
Fm so sorry.
You don't remember
the Ouija board, do you, Doc?
It had been one
of those prolonged times of no dope.
You think it knows where we can score?
Ask.
Just do it by yourself like that.
Nobody had any. Everybody was
desperate and suffering lapses of judgment.
Eight-4-2-9-3.
- It's a phone number!
- One-2-5-0-1.
It's ringing.
Howdy, dopers. We've got whatever you need.
And remember: The sooner you get over here,
the more there 'll be left for you.
So come on down to 4723 Sunset Boulevard.
You better hurry.
Okay, I'm sorry, who
is it that I'm talking to?
- She hung up.
- Let's go!
She's screaming at you:
Stay away! I'm a police trap!"
Aw, there's a problem with Ouija boards.
Shasta!
That board sure did its work.
They didn't score any dope that day,
but somehow, suddenly, it didn't matter.
It was weird that in the limited space
of a postcard...
...Shasta should have chosen
to remember that one day in the rain.
It had stuck with Doc too...
...even though it was late
in their time together...
...when she was already
halfway out the door.
Hey, Denis?
Denis, I'm-a go look around.
Wanna wait in the car
or come cover my back?
I was gonna try to go find a pizza.
Is that okay?
Now you recall this is stick shift,
not automatic and so forth?
It's easy as pie, Doc.
Mm.
Good afternoon. Mm...
This is the address they gave me
at Club Asiatique in San Pedro.
Just here to pick up a package
for the management.
Hello, this is Xandra from front desk.
We have a pickup for management.
Follow me.
Dr. Blatnoyd will see you in a moment.
So you have some ID, I imagine?
Mm-hm.
I don't know what this is. What is it?
It's oriental or something. Is it Chinese?
Well, I figured, uh, you being Chinese...
What? What are you talking about?
The Golden Fang?
It's a syndicate.
Most of us happen to be dentists.
A syndicate of dentists
set up long ago for tax purposes.
All legit.
Where did you tell Xandra
you were from again?
Uh...
Ohm...
Why, you're another one
of those hippie dope fiends, aren't you?
My goodness. My goodness me.
Here for a little perking up, are we?
Dig it.
It's from Darmstadt.
Lab quality.
I try not to do any dope
I can't pay for, is what it is.
No, no, on the house! In fact, maybe I'm
gonna even join you for one little moment.
Well, just to be sociable.
There you go.
Doctor, I think there's a problem
with the couch in your office.
And bring that bottle.
What do you think of my chompers?
Heroin sucks the calcium
out of your body like a vampire.
If you use it for any length of time,
your teeth go all to hell.
And that's just the good part.
Doc!
Doc?
Dr. Rudy, I'm back.
You're not Dr. Rudy.
You're not Dr. Rudy.
That's at Japonica, ain't it?
Japonica Fenway?
Imagine meeting you here.
Doc rooted through the city dump
that was his memory...
recalling that Japonica here had been a
pretty open-and-shut runaway daughter case.
Hardly worth daily scale...
...let alone the extravagant bonus
her father, Crocker Fenway...
...had insisted on paying when Doc
finally brought Japonica back home.
So, what have you been up to?
Escaping, mostly.
And I escape real good.
Escaping what?
Chryskylodon. This, like, booby hatch
my parents keep sending me to.
"Booby hatch"?
- Up in Ojai?
- You know it?
Shakes a tambourine.
- Ooh.
- Aah!
Dr. Rudy!
Okay. All right.
Japonica, you promised me.
Did you not promise me?
- What are you doing here?
- I escaped again for you.
00f'. Woo-hoe'.!
Look at the greedy little hippie.
Snorting away, are you?
- Your parents know you're here?
- No.
The Fenways?
They were heavy-duty South Bay money...
...and led lives of unusually high density
and often incoherence.
Her father, Crocker, also known
as the Dark Prince of Palos Verdes...
...was a lead lawyer at the office
of Voorhees-Krueger...
...who had given Doc
his first paying gig as a PI.
Man, like, I'm sorry.
Denis, what is it this time?
That's my steering wheel?
- I don't know how to drive.
- Aw, man, I thought you said you...
Hey.
Smile Maintenance Chick.
How lovely.
Miss Fenway may appear
a little psychotic today.
Groovy.
- What?
- It's groovy being insane, man.
Where you at?
It's not groovy to be insane.
Japonica here
has been institutionalized for it.
Okay, come on now, Denis. We've gotta
figure out a way back to the beach.
If you need a ride,
I'm heading that way.
Huh? Uh...
Cop friendly, everything
cool with your ride?
Brake lights, license plate, so forth?
A-okay.
Mind if I tag along with you guys?
Contingencies of the road and so forth?
That's a good idea. Maybe we should
do more of that, tsk, tsk, for the road?
Yes. Yeah. You want some?
Excuse me.
Come on.
What's in that bag
you're stuffing under Doc's seat?
Pay no attention to that bag.
It'll only make everybody paranoid.
Though he may have rescued Japonica...
...from a life of dark
and unspecified hippie horror...
...apparently restoration
to the bosom of her family...
...had been enough
to really drive her around the bend.
Oh, fuck!
- Fucking assholes!
- Easy, easy.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! I can't...
- Okay, we are so fucked! I got...
- Nice and easy.
Christ, Christ. Some...
Are you the Great Beast?
No, no, that's a policeman.
You were driving without your headlights.
But I can see in the dark.
Perhaps you shouldn't be driving, then.
- I'm gonna need to see all your IDs.
- What is this all about, sir?
Any gathering of three or more civilians
is considered a possible cult.
What? It's Charlie Manson again?
Criteria includes reference
to the Book of Revelation...
...males with shoulder-length hair...
...and endangerment
through inattentive driving...
...all of which has been exhibited.
- Oh, I don't think so.
- Man, listen.
This is a Mercedes.
It's only painted one color.
- Y'all hang tight.
- That should count for something.
- Good point.
- Okay. All right.
Okay, okay. Oh, God, I'm actually
gonna have a heart attack.
Actually my heart is
racing like a little...
- What?
- Yes, sir?
I'm gonna hand these in...
...and as long as there aren't
any wants or warrants...
- ...you won't hear any more about this.
- Thank you, officer.
- Thank you, sir.
- Drive safely.
- Here you go, Blat. Dr. Rudy.
- No, that's yours.
- And Japonica here.
- That's beautiful.
Denis, take this.
This one is Denis's.
Idiots Unlimited.
Oh, yeah, I'm in an evil
mood myself tonight.
What can 1 do?
Dr. Rudy Blatnoyd, DDS...
...has perpetrated his last root canal,
I'm afraid.
Hablo ingls, man.
What's that...? He's dead?
They found him
next to a trampoline in Bel Air...
...with a fatal neck injury.
So far no witnesses, no motives,
no suspects...
...apart from you.
Mm, not me. Why me?
You were observed in Blatnoyd's company.
Both of you riding in a vehicle
full of drug-crazed hippies.
Yeah, well, you know...
...the owner of that vehicle...
...is a very well-respected, um, you know,
lawyer down in Palos Verdes.
And his daughter was driving.
She offered me a ride.
And cops didn't even give her a ticket.
You know, Blatnoyd
was her friend, not mine.
Go to bed.
I'm working. Why am I gonna go to bed?
I think it's time we had one of our chats.
Uh...
All right. Yup.
So with this Coy Harlingen matter...
...on the face of it...
...it's one more OD,
one less junkie, case cleared.
And on the not face of it?
Why, what do we have here?
Why don't you pick a card?
Any card.
These are field interrogation reports.
See if you find anything
that looks familiar.
Card tricks.
No.
Mm.
Puck Beaverton.
Excellent choice.
One of Mickey Wolfmann's bodyguards.
Interesting fellow, I hear.
Sheriff's people ran into him
at the Venice home...
...of the dealer that sold Harlingen
the smack that killed him.
Or didn't kill him.
Wait, so, what was Puck doing
at Coy's dealer's place?
The interesting thing
about this overdose...
...is that Leonard James Loosemeat
a.k.a. El Drano...
...was known for this 3 percent product...
...yet the report says what killed him
was pure China White Number Four.
Like, from the whole-seller?
Whoever's bringing it in?
I seem to recall that some years ago,
just before he went into Folsom...
...Beaverton used to work
for this loan shark...
...Adrian Prussia.
Fucking zoinks! I know Adrian Prussia.
I know him from my skip-tracing days.
He's a bad man. Used a baseball bat.
You know, he's sick.
And Coy's dealer, El Drano...
...also happened
to be Prussia's steady customer.
So maybe Puck was there on Adrian's behalf.
What do you think?
I think you and Adrian have a history
you're not sharing with me.
Got it, lieutenant!
You got it, lieutenant.
Pancakes aren't quite as good as my mother's,
but what I really go for here is the respect.
Respect.
You didn't get enough of that
from your mom.
You probably imagine that I have a lot
of status up in Robbery-Homicide.
I mean, who could blame you
for thinking that.
The reality, however...
...no Cielo Drive for Bigfoot.
No TV movie rights
or book deals for Bigfoot.
I mean, even the extra work is drying up.
God help us all.
Dentists on trampolines.
You know, Dr. Blatnoyd
had puncture wounds on his throat...
...consistent with bites
from canines of a midsize wild animal.
That's what the coroner told me!
Swallow that!
Listen, that's mighty weird, Bigfoot.
Okay? Because Blatnoyd
was a partner in a tax dodge...
...that calls itself
The Golden Fang Enterprises.
You didn't happen to get the, uh, SID to test
those neck punctures for gold or nothing?
I shouldn't think there'd be much trace.
Gold is all but chemically inactive, as you
might have learned in chemistry class...
...if you hadn't been ditching all the time
to score dope, Sportello.
Every contact leaves traces.
It would sure be ironic,
is all I'm saying...
...if Blatnoyd was bit to death
by a golden fang...
...or, like, even better,
like, two golden fangs?
I don't see why any of this
would be material.
Because it's the Golden Fang.
- t's the decedent's tax shelter. So, what?
- No, man, it's not a tax shelter.
It's something,
Bigfoot, man, much more, more vast.
This wouldn't be just more
of your paranoid hippie bullshit, would it?
Look, have the lab check
for traces of copper.
Not the kind that goes stumbling all over
the crime scene contaminating evidence.
More like copper the metal.
You see, gold teeth are never made
with pure gold.
Dentists like to alloy it with copper.
If you hadn't ditched forensics class to go steal
hubcaps to plant on some innocent hippie...
...you might have known that.
Oh, you feel like a cop almost, don't you?
Good day.
Okay, it's coming!
So where to?
A place up in Ojai called Chryskylodon.
Chryskylodon?
"Animal tooth."
Ancient Indian word, Sortilege?
It means "serenity."
I minored in the Classics.
It's not Indian, it's Ancient Greek.
t means "animal tooth made out of gold."
You're doing good, Doc.
- Thanks, Lge.
- Okay.
Owing to Governor Reagan's shutdown
of most of the state mental facilities...
...the private sector had been given
cane blanche to pick up the stack.
Soon, in fact, becoming a standard
California child-rearing resource...
...for kids like that old Japonica Fenway.
- Mr. Sportello.
- Mm.
- Dr. Aubrey Threeply.
- Oh, how do you do?
- So good to see you.
- Nice to see you.
- Welcome. Welcome.
- Thank you.
Would you...? Sorry.
Would you like to use the facilities?
You already used the bathroom?
Before we take a tour of the facility?
This is my colleague Dr. Lily Hammer.
- Mr. Sportello.
- How do you do?
Thank you.
Please join us.
This is our administrative lounge.
Our Chenin blanc comes
from the institute's own vineyard.
Hands steady as a rock today I see,
Kimberly.
So happy you noticed, Dr. Threeply.
- More soup?
- Yes, if you know what's good for you.
Have you been with us before, Mr.
Sportello? I know I've seen your face.
Mm. First time I've been down here. Normally,
I don't get much south of South City.
And abnormally?
What?
Well, I only meant that with any number
of qualified facilities in the Bay Area...
...why even bother coming
all the way down here to us'?
Mmm...
My clients believe
that Ojai is a planetary chakra.
Chryskylodon's motion picture palace.
Now showing the Burke Stodger marathon.
All Burke, all day, 24 hours of Stodger.
...people's museum.
And I warn you once more...
This place is a lie.
This is particularly
popular with the patients.
These marvels?
This! This was not invented by a Russian.
The man's name was Bell!
Alexander Graham Bell!
And he was an American!
Get that, comrade.
Everything on this table is as phony
as the town.
! communism.
It was occurring to Doc now...
...something Jade said once
about vertical integration...
...that if the Golden Fang
can get its customers strung out...
...why not turn around
and sell them a program to help kick?
Get them coming and going.
Twice as much revenue.
As long as American life
was something to be escaped from...
...the cartel could always be sure
of a bottomless pool of new customers.
Any questions?
Is that a swastika on that man's face?
Um, no, it isn't.
That's an ancient Hindu symbol
meaning "All is well."
- It brings good fortune, luck and well-being.
- Oh.
What do you mean?
Only that it looked like a swastika to me.
Well, he isn't a regular employee
of the Institute.
Perhaps you should pay no attention
to that man.
What the fuck?
...encapsulated in the charming phrase:
Which means, of course,
"You must be very tired."
Which brings us to the institute's
own Zen garden imported from Kyoto.
But each textured pebble,
each grain of white sand...
...was transported and reassembled here
exactly in place...
...by a team of some
of our more obsessive patients.
Mickey.
Mickey.
Mickey.
Hello, little hippie.
How are you?
Uh...
What are you doing here?
They're helping me.
They're helping me wake up
from my bad hippie dream.
Well, what'd you dream about?
I dreamed I gave away all my money.
Yeah.
Who brought you here?
My friends.
Who are your friends? The FBI?
I spent my whole life...
I spent my whole life
making people pay for shelter.
And all along, I didn't realize...
I didn't realize
it was supposed to be for free.
For free.
Where's Shasta?
What? Tell me, did she come with you?
Is she here?
Mickey, where the fuck is Shasta?
Go away, little hippie.
Go away.
"A new casino, a hotel,
25,000 square feet...
...nine dining places,
race and sport booking...
...shopping, a spa, local swimming pools...
...and a wedding chapel.
Wolfmann hopes to attract
many Hollywood celebrities."
1-Adam-12, handle code 3.
We don't have much to go on.
Just the broadcast Barrett put out.
He was ambushed by two male Negroes,
possibly on foot.
He thinks he wounded both of them,
but we can't be sure.
Far as I know, we have two units, code 100.
Aw, Bigfoot, you're adorable.
Fm sure I got them. Both of them.
The rest of
us can shake the area on foot.
Johnson, you and your partner stay here and
preserve the scene for the investigators.
Let's go.
Hi, Shasta.
Hi, Doc.
Well, either I'm on the time machine...
...or you're back.
I've been away.
- Where you been?
- Up north.
Family stuff.
Anything been happening down here?
Your friend in the, uh,
construction business?
Oh, that's all over.
He's back with Sloane and the kids.
And so what?
Mm-hm.
You know you got a load of people
out looking for you, Shasta.
Well, here I am.
(Test la vie.
"C'est la vie."
Que se fucking sera sera.
Something like that.
Well, I like your necklace.
Can't be good.
Mm-hm.
Yeah, word is your girl's back in town.
Oh, yeah? Well, that's news to me.
Where you been?
No place I'd recommend.
Any developments
on the Coy Harlingen matter?
Like you give a shit?
Any of them include Prussia or Beaverton
or any of the fuckers that I've given you?
All right, forget that. Listen, listen.
Any results on those fang marks?
Coroner's people got very upset with me
for suggesting more lab work.
Well, I just thought it'd be a helpful tip
to a fellow professional.
- You know?
- Oh, really? How's that, Sportello?
Yeah, when your own, um,
hearing comes up.
What are you suggesting?
One county supervisor with a bug up his ass
is all it takes to bring you down, Bigfoot.
This is Mrs. Chastity Bjornsen...
...and if that is one more sociopathic
"special employee" of my husband...
...I will thank you
to stop harassing him on his day off.
It's Sportello.
Oh, Sportello.
Doc Sportello? The Doc Sportello?
So we meet at last.
Mr. Moral Fucking Turpitude himself!
Have you any idea
of the therapist bills around here...
...for which you are directly responsible?
- The department picks up a little.
- Oh, the department?
Yeah, after a deductible
that would choke a fucking horse.
All right, you know, he called me.
I fail to understand your spineless response
to that dirty, hippie piece of shit.
Would you get the fuck up?
Get the fuck up, Christian.
Christian, get the fuck up!
- Now, Christian, please!
- Okay.
And would you stop acting like a beaten
dog. I ask you for one fucking day a week.
No...
What kind of girl do you need, Doc?
Maybe a thing for one
of those Manson chicks?
Well, thing is that...
...depends on what...
Are you sure you wanna be doing that?
Submissive, brainwashed, horny, little
teeners who do exactly what you want...
...before you even know what that is.
You don't have to say a word out loud.
They get it all by ESP.
Your kind of chick, Doc?
You the one that's been stealing
my magazines?
What would Charlie do?
Well, probably not this.
Listen, I'm sorry about Mickey.
Mickey.
Mickey could have taught all you
swinging beach bums a thing or two.
He was just so powerful.
Sometimes he could almost
make you feel invisible.
Fast
Brutal.
Not what you'd call a considerate lover.
But we adored it about him.
Me...
...and Sloane and Luz.
It's so nice to be made to feel invisible
that way sometimes.
Mm.
And guys just love to hear shit like this.
He'd bring me to lunch in Beverly Hills.
One big hand wrapped
around my bare arm...
...steering me blind
down those bright streets...
...into some space
where it was dark and cool.
You couldn't smell any food, only alcohol.
He had tables full of them.
They'd all be drinking...
...in a room that could have been any size.
And they all knew Mickey.
They wanted, some of them...
...t0 be Mickey.
He might as well have been
bringing me in on a leash.
He kept me in those micro-minidresses...
...never allowing me
to wear anything underneath.
Just offering me up
to whoever wanted...
"10 stare...
...or grab.
Sometimes, he'd fix me up
with some of his friends...
...and I'd have to do whatever they wanted.
Why are you telling me this?
I'm sorry, Doc.
Do you want me to stop?
If my girlfriend had run off
to be the bought-and-sold whore...
...of some scumbag developer...
I'd just be so angry,
I don't know what I'd do.
No.
I'm even lying about that.
I know what I'd do.
If I had the faithless little bitch
over my lap like this...
This doesn't mean we're back together.
Mm.
Of course not.
You didn't get this necklace up North, hmm?
I went on a boat ride.
Like a three-hour tour?
They told me...
...I was precious cargo that couldn't
be insured because of inherent vice.
What's that?
I don't know.
- Hmm?
- Kiss me.
"inherent vice,"
in a marine insurance policy...
...is anything that you can't avoid.
Eggs break...
...chocolate melts...
...glass shatters...
...and Doc wondered what that meant
when it applied to ex-old ladies.
What's on your mind, Doc?
Besides the usual?
I don't know.
I'm like, you know...
...working myself
into a brain freeze here, Lege.
Well, put it another way:
What's gonna nag at you
in the middle of the night?
What's gonna nag at me
in the middle of the night?
Little kid blues?
Saxophone players?
You know, whatever...
...he meant to do...
Coy, you know, mistakes aside, and...
Nobody deserves to go through life
without seeing their daughter.
That don't sit well with me.
Then go get them.
- Put it on your desk.
- Thank you.
- Whoa. What are you doing here? Yeah.
- Whoa"?
Wanted to see if you were free for dinner.
I didn't mean to freak you out.
Are you all right?
"Am I?
'AFB you?
Should I call security?
- No, Rhus.
- I don't think we need...
This is the one I was telling you about.
Yeah?
You know your pals
have Mickey Wolfmann?
What? The FBI? I mean, we suspected,
but we couldn't prove it.
Well, I saw him in their custody.
- You saw him?
- Yeah.
Would you be willing
to let me depone you?
- Sure would.
- You would?
What is it?
You, me, a tape machine,
maybe another DDA to witness it.
- All right, I need something from you though.
- What?
I need to look up somebody's jacket.
That's it? That's no big deal.
We do that all the time.
What, you break into officially
sealed records all the time?
Grow up. What's the name on the file?
Adrian Prussia.
SORTILEGE". As if looking for something
he didn't want to find...
...it became clear as vodka
you keep in the icebox...
...that, whatever the connection
between the L.A.P.D. and Adrian Prussia...
...he might as well have been working
for them as a contract killer...
...doing deeds for them
they couldn't do for themselves.
Time after time, he was pulled in,
questioned, arraigned, indicted, no matter.
Somehow the cases
never quite got to trial...
...each being bargained down
in the interest of justice...
...not to mention Adrian,
who invariably walked.
And one of those deeds
appeared to be labeled...
"the justifiable homicide"
of one of the L.A.P.D.'s very own:
Vincent Indelicato.
Otherwise known as...
...Bigfoot's partner.
Bigfoot.
Bigfoot's partner?
Fucking Bigfoot's partner?
Oh, fuck.
Bigfoot's air of possessed
melancholy now began to make sense.
This was mourning, all right.
And it was deep.
This your new partner, Bigfoot?
Want a banana, Adrian?
Bend over and I'll stick it in for you.
Fuck you and fuck your banana.
Oh, man, oh, man.
Never be surprised at the levels
of disrespect within the L.A.P.D.
But this was downright nasty,
not to mention unprofessional.
This bond between partners was nearly
the only thing Doc had ever found...
...to admire about the L.A.P.D.
You know, there's places
you don't wanna go, Doc.
Go back to the beach.
You smell like a patchouli fart.
So here's Doc.
Midnight, pitch-dark...
...can't remember whether
they drained the pool or not...
...but, hey, what the fuck's it matter?
He bounced once, twice...
...and then off the end of the board
in a blind cannonball...
...down into old karma
with Adrian Prussia...
...who had not only shot at him once...
...but threatened him with a Carl
Yastrzemski Special baseball bat.
All this leaving Doc to wonder:
"Where's the partner to watch my back?"
Far out, man.
Right.
Psychedelic.
Done.
So you're here about...?
Good question.
Uh...
Wait a minute. This is bullshit.
I remember you.
You're that kid from Fritz's shop
out in Santa Monica, right?
Yeah.
So, what you up to these days?
Skip tracing?
Or did you go into the priesthood?
PI.
Heh. They gave you a license?
So who sent you here?
- Mm. Uh...
- Who are you working for today?
All on spec. All on my own time.
Wrong answer.
How much of your own time
do you think you got left, kid?
I was just about to ask.
Howdy, Puck.
Do I know you?
I don't think I do.
I don't know, you must remind me
of someone I ran into someplace.
My mistake.
I have a busy day ahead...
...and I know nothing...
...of any of this.
What are you doing here?
I was just, uh, talking to Adrian.
Mm.
It's these, uh...
...various cases I'm working on.
And, uh...
...mm, Glen Charlock...
...and, uh, Vincent Indelicato...
...and, uh...
...where'd...
...you...
get that-J?
That necklace...
...it looks funny on you.
Big man, small necklace.
Acid invites you through a door.
PCP opens that door...
"shoves you through 'w...
...slams the door behind you...
...and locks it.
Special treat for you today, doper.
Just got it in a shipment...
...of pure Number 4.
Ain't a white guy's finger laid on it...
...between the Golden Triangle...
...and your own throbbing vein.
Just let me step out here...
...and I'll go get you some.
Don't go away now.
Puck!
Pucky!
Did I rm you?
Bigfoot?
What the fuck?
Did you take care of them okay, Doc?
You fucking lunatic! What is this?
I'm in enough shit personally
with the captain...
...and I've seen you on the range.
Nice work.
What are you...?
And that there,
is that what I think it is? Huh?
There's one of or two of them.
There's more. Enough left for evidence.
Man, Bigfoot, I saw the movie.
As I recall, that character
comes to a bad end.
Put the gun away, Doc.
- What?
- The gun. Put it away.
This is the Golden Fang
you're about to rip off, man.
The fully fucking weird outfit
that kills people.
That's according to your own
delusional system. Get in the car.
Get in the car!
Where are we going?
We had to impound your car again.
It was parked illegally...
...in front of Adrian's.
Psst.
Doper's ESP, Doc.
Doper's ESP.
Oh, no.
Bigfoot, you motherfucker.
Okay, Doc, you have what looks to be
a 20-kilo inconvenience in your trunk.
And Bigfoot, no doubt,
putting out word to that effect.
And once again, you're the bait.
Hello?
It's sure been a long time.
And your name was?
FENWAY".
This is Crocker Fenway.
Japonica's dad?
Ohm...
What happened this time?
You have something that belongs to some
people I represent, and they'd like it back.
Oh. So you're a principal in all this?
FENWAY". it's only because of me
and our small transaction over Japonica...
...that you're still alive.
Ever so grateful, sir.
So, what do we do?
I suppose someone wants their, uh...
...back?
Why don't we meet this evening at 6:00
at my club, The Porto/a, in Elysian Park.
Mm-hm. ls there a dress code?
A jacket and tie, if possible.
I'll see you then.
Mr. Sportello.
Mr. Fenway.
To a peaceful...
...resolution.
How's the family?
Japonica's...
...doing fine, if that's what you mean.
You know...
...I think I saw old Japonica
the other day at my doctor's office.
You ever run across a dentist
named Rudy Blatnoyd?
The son of a bitch who until recently
was corrupting my daughter?
Yes, I do seem to recall the name.
He perished in a trampoline accident,
didn't he?
L.A.P.D. aren't so sure it was an accident.
And you'd like to know if I did it?
What possible motive would I have?
Just because the man preyed on...
...an emotionally vulnerable child?
Forced her to engage
in sexual practices...
...that might appall
even a sophisticate like yourself?
Does that mean I'd have any reason
to see his miserable...
...pedophile career come to an end?
What a vindictive person
you must imagine me.
Mmm...
Mm, I did suspect he was fucking
his receptionist, but what dentist doesn't?
It's some oath they all
take in dentist school.
Anyhow, it's a long way
from strange and weird sex, isn't it?
What about when he forced
my girl to listen...
...to original cast albums of Broadway
musicals while he had his way with her?
Or the tastelessness of the decor...
...of resort hotel rooms he took her to...
...during endodontist conventions.
The wallpaper.
The lamps.
Japonica's of legal age now, isn't she?
In a father's eye, they're
always too young.
To the matter at hand.
Those I represent are prepared to offer you
a generous compensation package...
...for the safe return of their property.
Suppose it didn't have to be
in the form of money.
Well, money would be a lot easier.
There's a saxophone player
named Coy Harlingen.
He's been working undercover for different
anti-subversive outfits, including the L.A.P.D.
And he's come to feel lately
that he made the wrong career choice.
t lost him his family, his freedom.
And like you, he only has one daughter.
Please.
Okay. Well, he wants out.
And I think I can square it with the heat.
But there's this other bunch,
Vigilant California.
And, well, whoever's running them,
of course...
My guess is they'd prefer he not disclose
any confidential information.
Last thing he'd ever do.
Your personal guarantee?
I'll go after him myself
if he tries anything.
Then we have a deal.
That's all you wanted?
No money now? Are you sure?
Well, now, how much money would I have to take
from you so I wouldn't lose your respect?
It's a bit late for that, Mr. Sportello.
People like you lose all claim to respect
the first time they pay anybody rent.
Well, I may not be as well-connected...
...and for sure, not as much
into revenge as you folks are...
...but if you're jiving with me, my man...
...I say to you:
Hmm?
So where we gonna do this handoff?
Don't know much about history
Don't know much biology
Don't know much about science books
Golden Fang operatives, 12 o'clock.
Fast approaching.
Look sharp.
And I know that if you love me too
What a wonderful world it would be
Don't know much about geography
Don't know much trigonometry
All right, you got the keys in here?
Don't know what a slide rule is for
But I do know, one and one is two
And if this world could be with you
What a wonderful world this would be
Now, what's all this?
It's a credit card. Don't
hippies have them?
Yeah, I must've meant that why is
your mother handing me this?
- t's not for you.
- Ah. Uh...
You're supposed to tell him: "Well done.
Welcome back to the main herd.
Safe journeys."
That's journeys, plural.
"Well done. Welcome back to the herd.
Safe journeys."
Okay, I guess I can remember that.
- What are you looking at?
- Huh?
What?
So you guys been working
for the Golden Fang long?
Okay.
Sassy, little girl. Nasty. Mean.
There's nothing? All right.
Everything's cool.
I'm officially off everybody's payroll.
Burke Stodger just called me.
You're a dangerous hombre.
Drive.
You all right?
I'm nervous.
Yeah.
You know what the Indians say.
- You saved my life...
- Ugh...
...now you're responsible for it-.
No, man. No, that's not true.
Some hippie made that up, man.
You saved your own life, man.
Now you get to live it.
Baby!
Yet there is no avoiding time.
The sea of time.
The sea of memory and forgetfulness.
The years of promise gone
and unrecoverable.
Of the land almost allowed
to claim its better destiny...
...only to have that claim jumped
by evildoers known all too well...
...and taken instead...
...and held hostage to the future
we must live in now, forever.
So who got her?
Department of Justice.
So, like, uh, justice was served?
That's exactly right, Doc.
That's exactly right.
May we trust this blessed ship
is bound for some better shore.
Risen and redeemed.
Where the American fate
mercifully fatted to transpire.
Don't get up.
Bigfoot. Man...
You smashed down my door?
Come on.
After a long and busy day
of civil rights violations...
...I found myself in the neighborhood
and compelled to drop in.
Just to check and see the current state
of affairs of my old stomping grounds.
Seeing as your effort to keep lines
of communication had been...
...limited.
To say the least.
Well, I've been busy.
Trying to figure out which side
of the Zig-Zag paper's the sticky side?
Give it to me.
Listen.
- I'm sorry about last night.
- I'm sorry about last night
I123';?
Why should you be sorry?
Weird.
Uh...
Are you okay, brother?
I'm not your brother.
No, but you could use a keeper.
Remember that day?
The Ouija board set us off
into that big storm?
This feels the same way tonight.
Just us.
Together.
Almost like being underwater.
The world...
...everything...
...gone someplace else-.
Just figured it was
Sortilge setting us up.
No.
Her Ouija board and...
- She knows things, Doc.
- Mm.
Maybe about us that we don't know.
This don't mean we're back together.
Of course not.