Man: Rise and shine, New Orleans. Monday morning. Where you at? Probably stuck in traffic. So be careful today, be patient, because we all know as bad as the gridlock is, some of the drivers are worse.
(tires screeching)
Someone call 911!
♪ NCIS:New Orleans 1x07 ♪
Watch Over Me
Original Air Date on November 11, 2014
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ Bang, bang, bang, bang ♪
♪ Boom, boom, boom, boom ♪
♪ How, how, how, how ♪
♪ Hey, hey ♪
♪ You gotta come on. ♪
That's a beaut.
Pride: Yes, it is.
First car I bought Linda after we got married. Been sitting in the garage. Had it towed over this morning.
What's the problem?
Well, you know, marriage. Hard enough as it is, and then... when you're not living in the house... You meant the car, didn't you? You want to know what's wrong with the car?
You know I'm always here for you, King.
Yeah.
Engine won't turn over. Promised I'd get it fixed.
Know what you're doing?
Absolutely. Try the key.
Say when.
Go.
(engine sputtering)
Hang on. All right, give it a go.
(engine sputtering)
That's enough!
You know, I got a mechanic that fixed my sister's car when no one else could. You want his number?
I got this.
Dead Navy officer in the Quarter.
Car was run off the road.
All right, let's get to it.
What's with the car?
It's Linda's.
What's the problem?
Well, you know, King's not living at home anymore.
The car, Christopher. She also means the car.
According to witnesses, we've got two cars speeding down Conti at 9:30 this morning.
Sedan traded paint with an SUV, forced it into this construction site. Victim d*ed on impact.
So, what, road rage?
Something like that.
Got plates on the sedan?
Witnesses say there weren't any.
Just tinted windows, black car, big dent in the bumper.
Morning, Loretta.
No matter how quiet and gentle the soul, you get 'em behind a wheel and suddenly they revert to the most base and primal.
I know. I've driven with you.
(chuckles) Okay. From the driver's license.
The deceased is Commander Darby Wilson.
Worked at the Office of Naval Research.
Local guy.
Born and raised in Metairie.
We could play Guess the Cause of Death, but the giant rebar sticking through our victim's chest makes the game kind of pointless.
They put out the flames fairly quickly.
Luckily, the corpse is mostly intact.
Pride: What do we got here?
Receipt says it was purchased last night.
6:12 p.m.
Lasalle: I never understood the appeal of jewelry. Expensive, easy to lose, and doesn't do anything but just sit on your body.
Says the perennial bachelor.
My mother had a locket with my father's picture from... when he was in boot camp before Vietnam.
The point of a locket isn't the jewelry itself.
It's what the giver chooses to put inside.
To be determined.
I'll put a BOLO out on that sedan.
See if any surveillance cameras get us a better look at the driver.
Something else, Dwayne.
He's got bare feet.
His shoes are nowhere in the car.
Lasalle: Who gets in a car without shoes?
Someone in a rush.
Let's assume that whatever ended here started somewhere else.
Where the hell was he coming from?
Pride: Got a GPS.
Lasalle: Which means...
...I can do my thing.
39163 Delgado Avenue.
Pride: Commander Wilson's house?
Lasalle: Matches the address on his license.
Hey, listen to this.
Wilson was 40 years old, already made commander.
Tours in Iraq, Afghanistan. Numerous commendations.
And he could be dead 'cause someone couldn't handle getting cut off in traffic.
Hey.
On my lead.
NCIS!
Clear.
Chris.
So it's not likely this has anything to do with road rage.
Nope. Something much bigger going on.
Busy morning.
You're telling me.
We got any more on our victim?
Our first victim?
Yeah.
Commander Wilson's assignment with the Office of Naval Research had him working as a technical liaison for private developers.
Special access, top secret clearance.
Take his computer. Call in...
Patton Plame.
I'll get him to run a diagnostic.
And our second victim.
She's, what, Commander Wilson's wife?
That would be a no.
This is Commander Wilson's wife.
Katherine Wilson.
The naked woman in the bathroom is Rebecca Ortega.
She's Wilson's assistant at the ONR.
Found her purse in the kitchen.
One g*nsh*t to the head, one to the neck.
Clean entry wounds. My guess-- nine-millimeter.
Time of death?
Based on rigor, 9:00, 9:15.
Less than 15 minutes before Commander Wilson dies in the crash.
Who else finds it odd that an assistant is taking a bath at her boss's house at 9:00 in the morning?
Pride: And if the commander's wife knew what was going on, wonder how she'd react.
Before I forget, it's the number to the mechanic I told you about.
No, thanks. I'm good.
I'm telling you, King, this guy can get a turtle to run.
And I'm telling you I got this, Christopher.
(sighs)
Bart Roberts. He lives next door.
Tell Agent Pride here about Commander Wilson and his wife.
Well, that was a couple that just loved to argue.
Bart says that Wilson's assistant Rebecca spent some late nights here.
They in a relationship?
Well, I can't say that for sure, but alls I will say is...
I would've tapped that. (chuckling)
I mean, God rest her soul and all that.
You have a good day now.
So, we've got a marriage on the rocks, husband seems to be having an affair.
Disgruntled wife sh**t husband's lover and then runs him off the road.
Or gets someone else to.
See this blood? It came off a shoe.
I sprayed it with BlueStar. Look at the size.
Big. Not a woman's.
It wasn't from the commander. He was barefoot.
I found some more blood spots in the hall, too.
Shoe prints match.
So, wife gets someone to do the deed.
He sh**t Rebecca in the bathroom, but the commander was able to escape, flees the house.
Bad guy follows, gets to the car, ends in a crash.
All right.
Start with the wife's personal assets.
See if she had the finances to pay someone to do this.
$20,000 withdrawn from Katherine Wilson's bank account 48 hours ago.
Enough to get you a hired g*n.
(indistinct chatter)
Hey, King, who are the uniforms?
Intelligence specialists out of Belle Chasse.
Revamp on their HQ just started.
Until it's done, I told them they could have offices in the back.
Lasalle: By the way, got a response from the Office of Naval Research.
"Given the access the commander had, we are concerned about the sensitive information that might have been taken off his home computer."
If they're concerned, I want to know who they're concerned about.
You two go to ONR.
I'll talk to the $20,000 wife.
You looked into my bank records?
We did.
Mind explaining why... you withdrew $20,000 last week?
My husband is dead, and you're questioning... my finances?
We're required to cover our bases, Mrs. Wilson.
I didn't k*ll my husband.
We were having issues, yes.
I saw him yesterday at the house to go over the terms of our divorce.
Was it contentious?
It's divorce.
And nothing more?
Meaning?
The other victim at the house, the woman who was k*lled.
Rebecca. Yes, I heard.
She was there early in the morning.
Odd time for an assistant to be with a boss.
And... there was this.
In his car.
Recognize it?
Any idea who it was for?
Not for me, it seems.
Unless you'd like to arrest me...
I think I should probably go start planning my husband's funeral.
Man: We're... in shock.
Commander Wilson and Rebecca were... amazing people.
Commander Wilson had... a bright future in the service.
What kind of sensitive Intel was the commander privy to?
Drones, m*ssile defense, all the latest technology.
Any issues there or breaches of intelligence with Commander Wilson?
Well, I'd love to talk specifics, but that information's classified.
Is there anything you could offer us?
Darby and Rebecca spent much of the past year on-site with a private defense contractor.
Uh, Axelrod Industries.
If there were issues, they'd be someone you should talk to.
One other question.
Did you get a sense that Commander Wilson and Ms. Ortega's relationship extended beyond work?
Um, excuse me. The admiral's requesting your signature.
Darby and Rebecca were close, but... given our strict disclosure policies, they'd have to come to us with a relationship.
Or keep it an office secret.
I suppose anything's possible.
Lasalle: We're going to need to bag and tag the files, the tablet, everything in the commander's office.
Excuse me.
Miss?
Special Agent Brody with NCIS.
I was wondering if there was something you might want to tell me.
I... I don't.
Just needed a signature at ?
Time-sensitive?
There was nothing going on between Darby and Rebecca.
How do you know that?
Because I'm the office secret.
You and Darby?
Me and Becca.
Darby and Becca were very close.
They worked crazy hours together.
She slept there some nights, but trust me...
...Rebecca wasn't into him.
(sobbing): I'm in so much pain.
I mean, we were in love, and now she's... she's...
...gone.
I'm so sorry for your loss.
So there was no affair?
Which doesn't mean the wife didn't think there was.
And I'd like to know more about that withdrawal.
But she didn't strike me as the kind of lady that would... bump off two people on a hunch.
Ah, speaking of hunches-- and I don't know what this means-- but I found a small patch of a sticky substance on the commander's right wrist.
Run any tests?
The old-fashioned kind: smell.
Tobacco?
Mm-hmm. In resin form.
Which is odd, because the commander has the cleanest lungs I've ever seen.
Makes you wonder: Why is it there, and where exactly did it come from?
Sebastian's running further tests that resin so we could learn more.
Nobody move.
Speaking of...
(slow, steady beeping)
Hotter.
(beeping accelerates)
Hotter.
(beeping slows)
That's colder.
What are we doing?
Trying to b*at back the prying eyes of our great overlords.
(beeping continues)
Sebastian.
Sorry. It's my anti-hacking app.
When someone tries to steal information from my phone, the app starts beeping, and it's telling me that the source of the hack is somewhere in this room.
(beeping continues)
Hotter.
(beeping accelerates)
Hotter.
(beeping accelerates)
Singeing.
Inferno.
(rapid beeping)
Um... it's saying that the source is inside the body.
In the body?
(rapid beeping)
Yeah. Uh, there.
Right... there.
I was just about to check the contents of the stomach anyway.
Oh.
Something's imbedded in the stomach lining.
Looks like a microchip.
May I see that for a second?
Sebastian: Oh, wow.
Seriously, like, wow.
I-I had heard this kind of thing was in development, but to actually see one... Wow.
See one what, Sebastian?
Uh, a biotracker.
It's a spy tool-- something that you put inside another person.
And then when that person is near an electronic signal, like a computer or a phone, the biotracker steals that signal.
Phone calls are tapped, e-mails are h*jacked.
Like swallowing a recording device?
Yeah.
So what you're saying...
Commander Wilson was being spied on?
I am saying that Commander Wilson was being spied on... from inside his own body.
Biotracker is the purest fusion of biology and electronics.
There's a whole branch of tech devoted to craziness just like this.
It's all the rage with guys like me.
Hackers like you.
Investigative computer specialists.
Too legit to quit.
Okay, MC Hammer, how do you get a biotracker into someone?
Well, as you can see, they're very tiny.
Normally, they're hidden in a pill.
Any chance he could have swallowed it himself?
Not unless he's a crazy-ass.
Those things are not tested; they're dangerous.
Commander Wilson was on cholesterol meds.
Maybe somebody slipped the biotracker into one of those?
Uh... they might have planted trackers in multiple pills.
Like anything other than... cheese, biotrackers can pass through your system within days.
So the info the biotracker steals can be transmitted somewhere-- can you track where it goes?
Nah. That's beyond even my considerable powers.
But this is not something a jealous wife would be using?
Not unless she's a wife with multimillions in research funding.
The people who work with the ONR have those resources.
And the place Wilson was assigned--
Axelrod Industries.
I'll take Axelrod.
You two figure out who, other than his wife, had access to his meds.
How you doing with Wilson's computer?
Oh, I'm into it.
I'll tell you what, this puppy is buttoned up tighter than a... very... tightly... buttoned-up puppy.
Okay, I got lost in the middle of that one.
Agent Pride.
Welcome.
Oscar Randolph, head of security.
Got to do this sweep.
My apologies.
Understood.
At this point, we're trying to learn everything we can about the work Commander Wilson was involved in.
Right. So, he was the go-between on a number of projects we were building for the Navy.
Darby was charged with helping us integrate the work into the Navy's systems.
Laser-based helicopter landing aid, hypervelocity m*ssile system...
How about biotrackers?
Not on our radar.
But they're cool.
Agent Pride, do you think they were k*lled because of Darby's work here?
We're exploring all possibilities.
You'd be right to be concerned.
My employees have had issues in the past.
Routine attempts at hacking into our system, extortion, espionage...
t*rror1st organizations?
From al-Qaeda to the Red Hacker Alliance out of Beijing.
Our employees have targets on their backs-- that's why we do everything in our power to keep them safe.
But the truth is, the technologies we develop are the cutting edge.
They're worth k*lling for-- a fact we're, admittedly, quite proud of.
Here's my problem.
It's hard to investigate what's not there anymore.
Darby's entire system was wiped remotely three hours after his death.
So all gone?
Gone, but not really gone.
See, gone is never totally gone.
I use some... complier code, maybe a packet sniffer.
If I'm lucky, I'll find a zero day exploit.
And here's where I pretend like I know what that means.
Oh, it means, I'm gonna be on it, like a woman on a bicycle, with somewhere to go.
Analogies are not your strong suit.
Lasalle: The lab wants us.
Sebastian: Afternoon, friends.
Mr. Lund.
Mr. Plame.
How's my favorite conspiracy theorist doing?
I prefer the term "creative realist."
Well, not many realists I know believe that the government is developing time travel technology in Area 51.
Yeah, not many skeptics I know have read the redacted files that I have, so...
There is a reason you called?
Yes. The substance found on Wilson's wrist was, in fact, tobacco resin.
Sebastian: I isolated the cotinine properties and found that this particular type, the Roman Shisha, is somewhat rare.
It's also only used for hookah smoking.
It's only sold in a few local spots.
And the resin can be wiped out quite easily, but it was still on Commander Wilson, which means he likely encountered it within hours of his death.
Yeah, so I grabbed the log that Lasalle downloaded from the GPS in Commander Wilson's car, and I cross-referenced it with hookah bars in the city...
And... boom-Shaka.
Boom what?
Boom-Shaka. I'm just... I'm working on catchphrases to punctuate meaningful discoveries.
And in this case, that discovery would be...?
That Commander Wilson parked his car near a place called the Sahara Room at 10:00 p.m. the night before he d*ed.
Late meeting in a hookah bar?
By a nonsmoker.
Well, it ain't time travel at Area 51, but still it's odd.
Okay, I'm telling you it's a real...
And how this is all connected with the world of biotrackers and high technology?
I don't know, but it's worth looking into. Sebastian.
Yeah?
Send me the address to that hookah bar.
I got you.
Surveillance camera footage from Sahara East.
Hostess says Commander Wilson was there meeting this guy. They were having an intense conversation. But hostess couldn't hear them, 'cause they were whispering.
He looks like a burnt marshmallow.
Camera had an inch of dust over the lens. Even Bruce is stumped.
Think Bruce could fix the car?
Only I call him Bruce.
Pride ever consider a mechanic?
I asked. He said no.
I don't get it. I've only known Pride a couple months, but it seems like if he wanted to get it fixed... He wouldn't be snapping at me for giving him the number of my mechanic.
Incoming.
Anything on the surveillance video?
Nope. No, sir. Nada.
Question: When exactly did Wilson meet our mystery man?
Time stamp says the night before the m*rder, 10:06 p.m.
Wilson's wife mentioned meeting her husband earlier that same day.
Wonder if Wilson told her anything about his other meeting.
Never hurts to ask.
♪ ♪
Christopher?
Lasalle: Hey, King, what you got?
Christopher, I got the car that chased Commander Wilson parked in front of the wife's house.
(woman screams)
Gonna need backup.
Lasalle: On our way.
NCIS.
(muffled grunting)
You okay?
Yeah.
All right, stay here.
(man panting and grunting)
(car door opens, engine starts)
(kettle whistles, stops)
You okay?
I don't get any of this.
The-the person who m*rder*d my husband is also coming after me?
At the moment, we're focused on the possibility that something about your husband's work was the reason for his death.
Is there anything he might have told you or left at your house or-or gave you to keep that could put you in danger?
No. No, he hasn't been to my house in weeks, and we don't really talk much.
Certainly not about his work.
BOLO's out based on Mrs. Wilson's description.
Got eyes on the ground and in the air.
Don't worry, ma'am, we'll find the guy.
Katherine, I need you to remember anything you can.
Uh, it just happened really fast.
I mean, I'm trying. I...
I came home, and... he was there.
He grabbed me by my hair, and he...
Sorry.
Pride: It's all right.
It's all right. You're safe now.
Just one more question.
Okay.
The last time you saw your husband, did he mention anything about meeting someone later in the day?
Shang. He's this... I...
Someone named Shang. He... said he was a colleague.
All right, all right, that's good, that's good.
Add Shang to the BOLO.
And I'll talk to ONR.
Cross-reference the name against anyone Wilson worked with.
Yeah. Two murders and an attempt on Mrs. Wilson.
I think it's time maybe we move her to the safe house till the k*ller's in custody.
I'll set it up.
Have Brody pack her a bag.
You got it, King.
You mind taking a couple steps back?
Just a precaution.
(radio static humming)
I used to have a radio like this growing up.
Turn it up real loud when my parents would argue.
Mom drank too much, Dad yelled and the music just made it easier.
(distorted speaker, music)
(static)
(high-pitched tone, distorted speaker)
♪ I know it's hard to love me ♪
There.
I love that song.
♪ But you sure enough did try... ♪
Darby didn't like music.
He was no-nonsense. Always on point.
Which, when I met him, I loved.
But time passes and the differences you fell in love with just... oh, start to be differences.
You're married.
I am.
You know what I'm talking about.
Yeah, it's tough when things get broken.
You hungry?
Yeah, I don't think I've eaten in days.
We got... peanut butter, rice, baked beans and a can of salsa.
You can make a meal out of that?
You don't know who you're talking to.
Man: Thanks, Brody.
The intelligence specialists-- they took my potato salad, didn't even ask.
Come on.
Well, you don't eat potato salad, I didn't eat it, and King ain't here.
That leaves us one option.
We got thieves in our midst.
They made coffee.
That's nice.
(computer dings)
Whatever.
Here we go.
Meet Shang Lee.
Commander Wilson's colleague.
Wilson's friend from the hookah bar.
Shang used to work at Axelrod Industries-- technology officer.
Mr. Axelrod says he fired Shang a year ago.
Accused him of trying to sell blueprints to a competitor.
Could be what the biotracker is about.
An attempt to learn what Wilson was working on at Axelrod so Shang could resell it.
Maybe Wilson finds out...
Shang has to silence him.
Where's Shang Lee now?
Looks like he's in the wind.
Well, let's find him.
And whoever stole my potato salad.
There are billions of galaxies out there.
How can you not believe in the existence of extraterrestrial life?
I mean, there are billions of opportunities for life to grow.
Billions of...
Sebastian, I invited you to help me, not to say "billions" a billion times.
We just... We can't be the only pebble in space whose inhabitants get their celestial groove on, you know?
Whose fish swim upstream.
Whose sole purpose is to procreate and continue a dysfunctional species.
Any progress with Wilson's computer?
We're getting there. Sebastian actually had a decent thought.
Potato salad.
Want some?
So, to get into encrypted Area 51 files, hackers used a neural network decryption algorithm.
Allegedly. Anyway, we applied the same algorithm to the commander's computer and...
Sebastian: Boom-a-bam-bam.
Boom-diggidy.
That's...
Boom-vroom?
Don't ever say that again.
All right.
We got Commander Wilson's download history.
His last download was 8:30, about an hour before he d*ed.
He put some files on an SD card.
What was on the files?
We don't know yet-- a lot of layers of encryption.
Looked like some classified stuff.
But we're getting into it.
(blues music playing)
Seconds?
I got to admit, the food's not terrible.
High praise. (chuckles)
What you got there?
Found it in the cabinet.
Thought this was a secure safe house.
We share it with other agencies.
Can't vouch for everyone.
Is it okay if I...
You can.
No. I'm the one with the g*n.
Got to take a pass.
Darby took a cooking class once.
He was so bad.
I mean, he really tried. It was sweet.
He wanted to learn my favorite food-- beef bourguignon-- and cook it for my birthday.
Sounds like a good guy.
He was.
I didn't want it to end.
With Darby.
The divorce was... all we could think to do.
Couple weeks ago, I tried signing up for an online dating service, but when I went to complete the profile, I... couldn't do it.
Somehow that step-- more than the divorce, even-- felt like...
A line you... just can't uncross.
You get it.
Katherine.
I... (phone beeping) I need to deal with this.
Uh, yeah, of course.
Man: One of the stable hands found him.
Was shoeing a horse, noticed this horrible smell.
Kind of like... spoiled cheese.
Use these stables much?
Not in years.
This is a great place to hide something you don't want found.
Thank you, sir.
(sighs) There's the smell.
Definitely... spoiled cheese.
Good afternoon, Loretta.
Brody, Christopher, come meet Shang Lee in the flesh.
Rotting as it is.
We found him submerged in this trough of fetid water.
Cause of death is two g*nsh*t wounds to the chest.
Caliber appears to be nine millimeter.
Same w*apon that k*lled Rebecca Ortega.
I'll have Sebastian check ballistics, but I'm guessing...
Striations match.
Time of death?
Based on decomp, bloating and lividity, I'd say Shang Lee d*ed hours before the other two victims.
Might want to call Pride.
Tell him the k*ller's still on the loose.
Yeah. Well, do that.
I take it that call doesn't mean the danger's over?
(sighs)
Not yet, no.
Get down! (groans)
(g*nf*re)
(g*nf*re continues)
(b*ll*ts ricocheting)
(g*nf*re)
(engine revving)
(g*nf*re)
Katherine: So, what happens now?
If... whoever it is... can find you out here in the middle of nowhere, it's better we bring you back to the office.
More security.
We'll keep you under 24-hour watch.
Listen, I'm... sorry about... before.
Don't give it another thought.
Can I ask you a question?
Where'd you get that bracelet?
Darby, my 30th.
Your earrings?
Yeah, Darby, also.
All silver?
It's the only kind of jewelry I can wear without breaking into hives.
That's what the locket was made of.
It clearly was not for Rebecca.
It matches everything else you wear, and...
You think he... He bought it for you.
And maybe it became the perfect hiding place for something else.
The only thing he took as he ran for his life was the necklace.
And an SD card can be very small.
(phone dialing)
Lasalle: Pride says recheck the locket.
I thought he checked it at the scene.
Nothing in here.
How big is an SD card?
Can be about the size of your thumbnail.
This thing's stuck.
May I?
Absolutely.
So, my mother was always worried about losing her locket.
This is what she would do with a faulty clasp.
Mm. Yeah.
Looks like there's something in there.
How do you like them apples?
Let me get that, kids.
Let's see what all this k*lling is about.
Okay. Here we go.
Lasalle: What the hell is this?
So, that ain't good.
Wait a minute.
There's another file on here.
It's a memo. It's unfinished.
Dated two days before Wilson's death... to the Navy.
Wilson was accidentally cc'd on an e-mail with a video of Axelrod's m*ssile system.
Lasalle: There's a defect with the targeting mechanism, but he's waiting on a second opinion before notifying his superior officer.
Shang Lee could have been that second opinion.
He knew how Axelrod worked.
They're cleaning up all their loose ends, which is probably why they went after Katherine.
She met with Wilson at his house the day before he d*ed.
Must be scared they told her something.
Yeah, but the question is: Who at Axelrod screwed up big-time, sent that e-mail, and then tried to cover their tracks?
I'm on it.
This is great. Just send me the specs.
NCIS. Don't move.
Whoa. What are you doing?
Hey.
Miss Schwartz, you need to come with us.
Wait. What? (scoffs)
Jason, I'm sure this is a terrible mistake.
This is insane. I don't know what you're thinking, but I can promise you, you have the wrong person.
Hold that thought, please.
(beep)
You recognize him?
Allow me to refresh your memory.
Oscar Randolph, head of security for your company, the man you e-mailed ten minutes after you realized Commander Wilson had accidentally received the failed m*ssile test.
Ex-paramilitary, trained k*ller, experience using nine-millimeter and sn*per weaponry.
Shoe size matches the prints we found.
And he sings like a canary.
About biotrackers in cholesterol meds kept at work, m*rder for hire, and lost million-dollar bonuses if a m*ssile deal were to go south.
(knocking)
(beeping)
Here's the deal.
You talk before Agent Pride gets in this room, and we'll tell the judge to show leniency; you stay silent...
Take your chances with the needle.
Okay, please, please, please.
You have to know, I never told him to k*ll Rebecca. She wasn't supposed to be there.
You'll tell the judge that, right?
(door opening)
(door closes)
Mr. Randolph in there-- he... he wants his lawyer.
He's not talking.
Wait. What?!
Yep. Conversation wasn't very fruitful, but it did give me time to put together my grocery list.
Need anything?
Katherine?
You can go home now.
It's over?
Nothing else to worry about.
I got to say, though, protective custody has its advantages.
Company wasn't half bad.
(chuckles)
Oh. I thought you might like to have it.
Looks nice.
Darby had good taste.
I should go.
You still at it?
Yeah. Cars can be stubborn.
That ain't the only thing. (laughs)
I've been thinking why you haven't fixed the car yet.
What'd you come up with?
Well, if the car doesn't work, Linda's gonna keep calling.
Keeps her in your life.
Once it's fixed, less reason to call.
(engine starts)
Ah. (laughs) Not going to Linda. I'm selling it.
Yeah, packed her things, closed up the house, went to her sister's. We both decided it was for the best.
So, is this permanent?
(engine revs loudly)
Don't you love the sound of that?
Go for a ride?
You gonna let me drive?
Not a chance.
(music playing over stereo)
♪ Fire on the bayou ♪
♪ Gonna do it like you wanna ♪
♪ Fire ♪
♪ Hey, now, on e bayou ♪
♪ Come on, everybody ♪
♪ Fire ♪
♪ Hey, now, on the bayou. ♪