01x09 - Stocks & Bondage

Episode transcripts for the TV show "Law & Order: Special Victims Unit". Aired: September 1999 to present.*

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"Law & Order: Special Victims Unit" follows the detectives of New York City Police Department's Manhattan Special Victims Unit, based out of the 16th precinct, as they investigate s℮xually based offenses.
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01x09 - Stocks & Bondage

Post by bunniefuu »

In the criminal justice system, sexually-based offenses are considered especially heinous. In New York City, the dedicated detectives who investigate these vicious felonies are members of an elite squad known as The Special Victims Unit. These are their stories.

Sex Crimes?

Yep.

Take a look at this.

Girl hanged herself from the bed.

Name's Layla Briggs.

Neighbors said she was generally a quiet, good tenant.

Looks like she k*lled herself.

Anything she didn't pierce?

So much steel in her it must set off metal detectors.

Not to mention the burn marks.

Could be self-inflicted.

We got reasons to believe this is anything other than a su1c1de?

Yeah. The robe was tied over her folded arms.

That's not impossible. I'm no Houdini, but... how hard is that?

Wait a minute. The robe was open.

Did you open it?

I was told it was a su1c1de.

I had to examine the body.

Did any of your men disturb the body?

My first instinct was su1c1de.

The second I thought different, I called you guys.

Law & Order: SVU
1x11 Bad Blood

Original air date: 2000/01/14

I don't get S & M. I mean, "Hurt me, that turns me on"?

Come on, what's up with that?

It starts with the tattoos.

Once you get the ink, it's a matter of time before you're begging to be tied up and spanked.

Tattoos are just the gateway to the sexual dark side, my friend.

You guys have finally figured me out, huh?

Seriously, did you get off on the tiny pinpricks of pain?

No, I get that from working with you.

Please.

Hey, Benson, your prelim on the Briggs victim... you omitted a suspected cause of incident.

The first-flush COD was death by hanging, but there were so many irregularities, we wanted to wait to talk to the M.E.

So homicide or su1c1de?

We need more information.

They had a baby M.E. At the scene and he disrobed the body.

Where do they get these people?

The vic had several self-inflicted wounds... or at least "willingly endured" wounds.

Which raises the possibility this is neither su1c1de nor homicide.

Rough sex gone awry?

Come on, that's the kind of explanation you get from defense attorneys.

It happens. This girl was into some pretty serious paraphilias.

She was pierced from head to toe.

You're telling me she works on Wall Street?

Investment analyst.

Those two worlds overlap more than you might think.

What worlds?

S & M and high finance?

Yeah, the all-consuming obsession to destroy political competitors is no different than the compulsion to harm one's fellow man.

Or woman.

Why don't you guys talk to the family?

Munch, Cassidy... find out where she worked.

Home Of Anne Briggs 842 West And Avenue Monday, October 25

What does this mean, "Special Victims Unit"?

We investigate sexually-based offenses.

What happened to Layla?

We're hoping that you can help us.

I had no idea.

Mrs. Briggs... you probably knew her better than anyone.

If you can shed some light on that aspect.../ What aspect?

Piercings.

Scars on her body.

They threw up a red flag for us.

She kept me at arm's length about things like that.

Her father d*ed when she was 15.

I guess after that she and I kind of drifted apart.

When was the last time you spoke with her?

A week ago.

She was chipper and upbeat.

Any signs of depression?

No.

Certainly not suicidal. She was... happy the way her job was going.

Was there anything you noticed?

Any changes in her behavior?

I didn't talk about anything personal with her.

Maybe that was wrong.

You do what you can.

You can't stop a child from doing what she's going to do.

When she was in 10th grade, she was in the shower once, and I was bringing her fresh towels.

And I saw it.

Saw what?

Metal rings through both her nipples.

I guess that's when it began.

What did you say to her?

I thought if I pitched a fit it would only encourage her... give her something to rebel against.

Maybe make it worse.

I guess... nothing worse can happen now.

Layla was the alpha analyst for our derivative financial instruments.

Amy, let's pretend this is economics for non-majors, okay?

Insurance companies collect premiums.

Some money is used to pay claims, other money is held in a cash reserve.

Layla helped figure out how to invest the rest.

How much is that?

The cash flows she handled were in the billions.

Billions.

Did that create enemies for Layla?

No, why would it?

We're talking about the concentration of power here, Amy.

My little insurers renter's check joins another and another until the trickle of money becomes a flood.

That kind of wealth is a thr*at to the people that want you to stay in line.

That could create enemies.

First of all, that's not how it works.

And second of all, Layla was well-liked.

Amy, we're actually more interested in Layla's state of mind.

Was she depressed? Was there a crisis going on in her life?

Not that I saw.

What is it you do here, Amy?

I manage the office. My boyfriend, Mr. Martin, owns the company.

Did you and he have any day-to-day contact with Layla?

Very little.

Who did?

Our head of finance, a woman named Sho-Ling Fu worked with her, but she's not in today.

We're going to need her number.

We frown on incoming calls.

They distract from the task at hand.

In our line of work, we frown on obstruction of justice.

COD is asphyxiation from a ligature around the neck.

Just as it appeared.

It's a fairly straightforward cause of death.

Yeah, but a cause isn't always an explanation.

What's your gut on it?

Homicide, su1c1de or accident?

I'm not going to declare until I have more information from you.

Was she sexually assaulted?

as*ault is hard to determine.

She was penetrated, but we recovered no bodily fluids.

Also, the kind of scarring and sexual injury this woman endured for years would send someone to prison except for one thing...

It was self-inflicted.

Perhaps.

Maybe the terminal injury was self-inflicted.

An auto-erotic fatality?

I could see that.

But look at this.

The robe she was wearing.

Yeah.

It's perfectly clean.

No sweat, no soiling.

Someone re-dressed her?

Remorseful k*ller?

You know, sometimes family members clean up the scene.

Layla may have been experimenting sexually.

We're going to spare you the details, but if that's the case it means that it wasn't a su1c1de.

It was an accident.

Layla was a good girl.

Mrs. Briggs, this doesn't mean she wasn't a good girl.

But if you know something more, you got to help us out here.

Help us find out what really did happen to Layla in this apartment.

I was bringing her cake.

I didn't want to be nosy.

She didn't like that.

I was just going to let myself out... and then...

And then you walked into her room...?

You think it can't be true when you see it.

I felt dizzy.

I laid down on the floor.

I didn't know what to do.

I wanted to call someone.

I thought I should call my minister, but I didn't want him to see her like that...not if I wanted a service.

Then everyone would know.

You were embarrassed for her.

We understand that.

She was wearing this weird leather thing and other things...

I don't even know what they are.

I got rid of all that.

I put a robe over her shoulders and then I called the police.

Tell me, where did you put these things you found in her bedroom?

In a blue plastic bag.

I threw all that filth in the dumpster behind the building.

The best I can tell, this is the outfit she wore when she d*ed.

Bodily fluids in all the right places.

Hers and a man's.

I sent semen traces out for DNA comparison.

She had a partner during her final performance.

How's that work?

She's got a whipping boy with her for some rough sex and he gets carried away?

That's one way to look at it. Or it's a homicide meant to look like that.

So the whipper boiled over?

Except no one got whipped.

I tested this for epidermal traces... skin from users... but it came back negative.

It's in "as-new" condition and... it rattles.

That's odd.

Let's open it up, see what's making that sound.

I heard they're pinning this on auto-erotic asphyxiation.

Terminal sex.

Yeah, except auto-erotic implies one person.

And?

The victim wasn't alone.

We recovered the outfit she was wearing.

Seminal fluid was found on the outside of it.

DNA hasn't come back yet.

And we found a whip filled with half a million dollars worth of diamonds.

Half a million? You should be able to find out where they came from.

Go to the Diamond District, show her photo around.

We also have her credit card records.

She frequented a number of sex and fetish shops.

Follow up on these.

See if you can get the names of any of her sex partners.

All Due Restraint 7 East 16th Street Tuesday, October 26

I know her.

But for obvious reasons we try to protect the privacy of our customers, because the world can be so judgmental of human behavior.

Not us. We leave that to the prosecutors.

What was your sense of Layla?

My sense of her?

First-timer.

She was a little shy.

A yuppie with a wild streak.

Not much more than that. Why?

We found her dead, trussed up like a latex turkey.

My God.

We talked about "code words," safe-play techniques and so on.

I guess that lesson didn't stick so well, did it?

Did you know any of her partners?

She came in one time with her boss' girlfriend, but other than that, no.

A big redhead?

No, a brunette. Why?

I guess we met a different girlfriend.

Shaked Diamonds 22 West 47th Street Tuesday, October 26

Pretty girl, but I've never seen her.

We believe she recently purchased about a half million dollars worth of diamonds.

The only people dealing with those quantities are crooks or professional diamond dealers.

I would never sell that much to someone I didn't know personally.

Reputation is everything in this business.

Why would that hurt your reputation?

Diamonds are the travelers' checks of the underworld.

They're valuable, compact, impossible to trace.

Once you sell to one creep, all the rest come b*ating a path to your door.

You know anyone who's less scrupulous?

One man, he will sell to anyone... large, small quantities, he doesn't care.

David McKuin.

He's in this same building, suite 505.

Layla Briggs. Sure, big buyer.

Came in two weeks ago.

She's dead.

What happened?

That's what we're trying to find out.

She buy diamonds from you?

A big order.

How big?

Nine million, 416,000 and change.

She wanted 10 million worth.

I couldn't come up with it in time.

Nine and a half million dollars worth of diamonds? Wow.

Do you know what she was doing with them?

She said it was for her work... high finance.

I don't understand it.

And you don't ask questions when you can make a quick buck.

I resent that.

You'll really resent it if we file a stolen property inquiry.

I didn't steal anything.

That doesn't mean they can't turn your life upside down and scare away some of your dealers.

Think about that and tell us whether she bought any diamonds for personal use.

No, it was for her business.

She even paid with a corporate check.

Could I get a copy of that check?

Sure.

If I were ripping off my company, I'd want this jeweler as my guy.

You think that's what she was doing?

Maybe.

Someone wanted a cut of the action?

They still have to cash them out.

Um-hmm.

There.

Check's from Martin Global Fund.

Signed by her supervisor, Sho-Ling Fu.

Okay. Someone might want to try and fence these same diamonds.

If they come in wanting to move a large amount, you'll call us, won't you?

Yes, I'll call.

Thanks.

Yeah, I got it.

Okay.

Thanks.

Yeah, a redhead and a brunette.

Thanks for the description.

Munch says this Martin guy has two very stunning girlfriends.

Keeping his options open, I guess.

We have many accounts in many currencies.

It's nearly a $10 million check, and you don't remember it?

I sign a transaction that big several times a week.

What was it for?

Layla used it to purchase diamonds.

She did some commodities hedging.

Once in a while you take a delivery of actual goods.

Warren Buffet has four London vaults filled with tons of silver collecting dust.

So where are they?

How would I know?

Because you're in charge of finances?

And we're investigating a m*rder.

Mr. Martin's office is where?

Down the hall. It's marked.

Thank you.

We're looking for Frank Martin.

Who are you?

We're detectives.

Benson and Stabler.

Oh, sorry. I was just fixing one of the computers.

It crashed. But better the machine then the market, right?

Computers will always break down on you, but the most important piece of equipment is the nut behind the keyboard.

Mr. Martin?

I started this company in my garage on this very same computer.

Now it's a multi-billion dollar empire.

The U.S. Capital markets are the greatest wealth-creation engine the world has ever known.

The compounded power of the bull market is a force of nature.

I have surfed it very successfully.

I keep that old computer to remind myself of where I started.

That's sweet. How long did Layla Briggs work for you?

A couple of years. It's a terrible shame what happened to her.

How much of her personal life were you aware of?

You mean the sex stuff?

Yes, the sex stuff.

Her predilections were pretty well known around here, but she always kept it out of the office.

You ever have a problem with theft?

I've had to fight off a few teenage hacker savants.

No, I meant Layla.

She purchased thousands of dollars worth of sex gear on your corporate credit cards.

Oh... that. Well... what's the difference between paying for a membership to a golf course, and you know, paying for her habits?

Jack Nicklaus never d*ed from playing golf.

You're right. I want to do everything I can to find out what happened.

Layla purchased nearly $10 million worth of diamonds two weeks before her death.

Mm-hmm.

That was a financial move.

We were betting on diamond futures going up in anticipation of Y2K anxiety.

Was that common knowledge?

The diamond future play?

No, that she took delivery on the goods.

It's in the financial report.

Anyone who knows how to read them would know she had the jewels.

What's the distribution list on that?

Everybody here in the office and the board of directors of the charity get a weekly report.

Charity?

On Wall Street?

Yeah, we're not all vultures.

We invest a large fund for the New Vision Endowment.

They give books and eyeglasses to poor children.

New Vision Endowment 125 West 24th Street Tuesday, October 26

When was the last time you saw Layla?

Early last week.

She brought the quarterly reports in person.

Once again, they were stellar.

What did she do for you again?

She managed our endowment.

What did that entail?

Non-profit charities, such as ours, we don't actually spend all the money at once.

An endowment keeps us going from year to year.

Kind of like an investment pool?

Yes, and the better the returns, the more money we can put to work.

Layla was very skilled at making our money work very hard.

She ever mention anything to you about purchasing diamonds?

No, but she did make some exotic financial returns, but generally they paid off.

"Exotic" kind of puts your entire endowment at risk.

I didn't ever understand what Layla was doing.

Hedge funds, commodities futures... but I didn't care, as long as it brought in the funds.

You were risking the entire endowment.

I gave power of attorney to her company.

Who?

The owner, Frank Martin.

He gave me his personal guarantee that if anything went south, he would bail us out.

It was a shrewd financial move predicated on the ebb and flow of the commodities market.

Half a million dollars worth of diamonds was found with Layla's body.

Layla may have had some strange habits, but she was scrupulously honest.

She had no need to steal.

Could she have afforded that quantity of jewels on her own?

Sure, many times over.

She made millions while she worked here.

Sometimes it's not about money.

Was she angry at you?

No, we had a good working relationship.

Was it ever sexual?

No.

There's a fine line between tolerating sexual behavior and encouraging it.

Oh, the Hang Seng just opened up 49 points. Yes!

If you'll excuse me...

The Hang Seng can hang.

Who's Layla dating?

I don't know.

Oh, come on, you must have some idea.

If you raise those questions in the workplace, you set yourself up for a big lawsuit nowadays.

So, I don't ask.

Where are you on the Layla Briggs case?

It looks like a lot of high finance and low urges.

She bought the kinky stuff with corporate credit cards, and everyone she works for seems to know about it.

On the other hand, she was a financial whiz.

She managed a fund for a charity foundation.

Charity begins at home, people.

For every dollar that goes in the can, 90c ends up in somebody's pocket.

Well, that's cynical.

That's life.

The records of a non-profit are public information.

So let's find out what they were really doing.
What's that?

The financial records for your foundation.

It seems out of the $18 million you took in, less than one million went for charitable works.

No. No, you're reading it wrong.

Here. Look.

14 million for glasses.

Kelp, anyone can print up a report.

We talked to the bank.

There is no such account.

They've never even heard of you.

What are you saying?

You and Layla had a little scam going.

She embezzles the money, you sign off on the reports.

But she gets greedy.

Are you suggesting that I k*lled Layla?

That's not what happened.

I knew about the financial irregularities, but I never benefitted.

Come on, please.

It's true... at least not financially.

Layla would make certain... donations.

I would then invest the proceeds with her company.

Martin was laundering money, Layla was his bagman.

I presume.

All I had to do was look the other way.

Why did you allow her to use your charity as a front?

What was in it for you?

We shared certain compulsions.

I tried, but I was never able to entirely relieve myself of them.

Layla knew me as "The Human Ashtray."

We met on the circuit.

The non-profit world is very concerned with appearances.

And she threatened to expose you.

Unless I helped her.

When I helped her once, that was the thin edge of the wedge.

What's the "circuit"?

Various people.

The only one with a regular gig is Anna Faust.

Did she know Layla?

Oh yeah, oh yeah. She knew Layla very well.

I haven't seen Layla for four months.

But she was part of the circuit?

"The circuit"?

The underground bondage scene.

She came to my parties... until she was banished.

What did she do?

It wasn't what she did... she was a submissive... but her master violated my rules and so both were informed that they were no longer welcome.

And this "master" was...?

A Wall Street financier with a mean streak.

His name is Frank Martin.

We know him.

How'd he cross you?

He hurt one of my girls.

What's her name?

If I tell you, do you promise to give him the punishment he so richly deserves?

Sure, that's what we hope to do.

Good boy.

Are you with lmmigration?

No, no, I don't care about that.

I just want you to tell me about Frank Martin.

I met him at a party where I was a paid submissive.

He asked if I enjoyed "air games."

You mean high-risk sex?

That's what he wanted.

I told him, "No, I don't do that."

Two days later, I get a call... he says he knows I'm here illegally.

He says if I like living in New York I should "meet him for some games," and if I don't, I'll get "a free trip back to Vietnam."

Meaning, he would turn you over to lmmigration?

I said, I would do "anything, anything," if he would not send me back.

What did he do?

He wants to try choking me.

I didn't understand, at first.

I was scared.

But he promised it would be okay, so he took me... and puts a belt around my neck.

I blacked out.

When I woke up, he was gone.

I see.

Martin Global Fund, Inc.

1333 Avenue Of The Americas Wednedsday, October 27

A shredding party... a page out of the Oliver North playbook.

The feds don't give a damn about the dead girl.

It was the financial fraud that got their motor running.

The powers that be always protect themselves and the FBI is their hired g*ns.

Fronting for the Trilateral Council, the World Bank, and the Mansons.

Masons. We're still sitting on a homicide, Martin is still our top guy, so how do you propose we go about finding him?

Follow the money, what little is left of it.

Little... Nine million is little?

Nine million in diamonds... that's an albatross if you can't cash 'em out.

So canvass the diamond dealers.

Hey, I pulled some strings.

I woman whose case I worked is over at the state insurance company, and when I told her what this jerk did to the victim, she unloaded.

We're not the only ones investigating him.

The Tennessee Department of Commerce and lnsurance was all over him like a cheap suit.

Did you get a number?

Better... I got an address.

They were so skeptical about this guy Martin, they sent up an auditor four months ago.

Yeah.

Barbizon Hotel 140 East 63rd Street Thursday, October 28

Martin Global Fund had a controlling interest in the Tennessee Valley Teachers' Retirement Fund.

Their third quarter financials showed irregularities, and I was sent to perform an audit.

What'd you find?

It's what they didn't find that made them send me to New York.

There were some irregular investments in oil fields, which might or might not have been outside the charter.

Which is it?

Aggressive, but not illegal.

I checked into the assets and they were right on the line.

You see, if they default...

The State of Tennessee is on the hook.

Yes, ma'am.

Any obligation is large enough that I've been looking for some legal reason to have the State take it over.

Frank Martin is missing.

We thought you may have come across something that may help us find him.

The man's a weasel.

Look, I've been in this city five months... I know he's dirty.

I still can't find the smoking g*n.

Benson.

Any associates you might have come across in your audits who might be sheltering him?

Everything he does is just barely legitimate.

If I gave you one address, I'd have to give you 50.

I'll tell you what, why don't you give us 50?

You got it.

Look, I've been trying to nail Martin down for five months.

When you catch him... give me a few minutes with him.

Ready for this?

Go.

That was Munch.

McKuin got a call from a woman who wanted to sell a large quantity of diamonds.

If there's anything Martin has going for him, it's women that do his bidding.

Where's McKuin?

Who are you?

Sho-Ling Fu.

Now answer my question... where's McKuin?

I sent him on an errand.

McKuin runs errands?

He does what I tell him... most people in the industry do.

What industry?

You've never heard of John DeMunch?

You're John DeMunch?

Let me put it this way... I can make a call to Johannesburg and release so many diamonds onto the market that whatever it is you're carrying wouldn't be worth the price of a pack of gum.

How do I know I can trust you?

I'm a businessman.

I don't think anyone has ever trusted me.

Your move.

Hell of a job you got, Sho-Ling.

What is it exactly that you do?

I manage Martin Global.

A multi-billion dollar investment powerhouse.

And to prepare for that, you did what exactly?

None of your business.

You worked there a year, suddenly you're a wizard of Wall Street, huh?

I'm a fast study.

Yeah.

Sho-Ling, we're not the financial guys, we don't really care about your financial scams...

I can't balance my checkbook... we just want you to tell us where Frank Martin is.

I told you, I don't know where he is.

There were diamonds found with Layla's body.

This is starting to look bad.

They were a gift from a friend.

Care to mention a name?

"James Bond"... there's a name.

You're starting to tread on thin ice, Sho-Ling.

We're gonna start visiting your friends, and when we find the one that was so generous, we're gonna pass along a nice, warm thank you.

"Lunch, David."

Give that back.

"Dinner, David. David, David, David."

David Kelp... that charity, the New Vision Endowment, nominal purchasers of $9 million worth of diamonds?

He's not a good friend of yours, is he, Sho-Ling?

Last chance to talk.

Okay.

Your coffee sucks.

Bye, Sho-Ling.

Sho-Ling didn't have much to say, but her daybook did some talking for her.

David Kelp... the charity guy.

The diamond-hedge charity guy's her boyfriend.

You gonna pick him up?

You mind if I beg off? I got an appointment with my phrenologist.

Your phrenologist?

Yeah, it's like fung shui for the head... it takes seven months to get in...

I don't want to miss this.

Wouldn't want you to miss that.

Me neither.

Thanks, guys.

Martin's employees are pawns in this con, and Kelp gives the shady diamond purchase legitimacy by helping the poor and downtrodden.

Who did Layla cross?

Everybody?

New Vision Endowment 125 West 24th Street Thursday, October 28

Kelp!

Kelp, we've got some questions.

You keep me here any longer, I'll strap a lawsuit on this city that'll bring both of you down with it.

Oh, you're right, we're stalling.

We're frustrated because we wanted David Kelp to be a witness at your trial.

But the b*llet through his forehead kind of put a damper on our plans.

What?

He's dead.

He did it.

Frank Martin?

Frank Martin never followed through on one thing in his entire life until now.

You're saying Frank Martin k*lled David Kelp?

He told me if I ran or if I went to the cops, he would k*ll my boyfriend.

What else did Frank Martin tell you?

Frank came to me four hours ago carrying a bag... only this clear plastic bag was full of diamonds.

He told me to cash them out.

Martin trusts you enough to have you cash out his diamonds?

No, Frank doesn't trust anyone.

He knew David and I were close.

So he threatened David?

Yeah.

He asked for a favor.

In the same breath, he threatened someone's life.

Classic Martin.

Sounds like you know him really well.

When I first met Frank, I was dancing in a cage with fluorescent green paint all over me.

He liked me, even though my name was "Angela Torres" then.

It was his idea to change it to "Sho-Ling."

That's what he gave me... an exotic ideal.

Tell us where you were planning to meet up with Frank.

Police!

Freeze!

Tucker?

Evenin'.

Where's Frank Martin?

I don't know.

Who was sleeping in your bed?

I was.

Who was sleeping in the other bed?

I was.

What's that supposed to mean?

I always get two beds... better chance of getting a decent mattress.

Layla's death is at your feet unless we get Frank.

It's not a pretty life, Tucker.

It's dark all the time.

And the mattresses suck.

He left about an hour before you knocked.

Where'd he go?

I don't know.

What happened the night Layla d*ed?

I don't know.

You do know.

No... not specifics.

He called me after... by the time I got there, he already had her strung up.

What did Martin say when he called you?

He told me to get over to Layla's apartment.

Did he give you directions?

No.

So you'd been there before.

Layla was one of the best... that's what I was expecting.

Wait... you expected to have sex with Layla with Frank there?

Frank helped her do things... do things right.

That's how he got me the first time.

When?

The same time as the audit.

Coincidence, right?

Look, he gave me a taste of life I never had before.

What, a chance to hang out with the popular kids?

No.

It wasn't that.

It was the look on the face of the first woman he introduced me to.

She wanted me.

That's a powerful feeling.

And that was enough?

That and the money.

Look, I'm not very good around women...

I'm awkward, my pits sweat, chew my lower lip.

The women that Frank introduced me to were not beautiful, but, well, they were beautiful, but...

What about the money?

Cash, cars, free time.

I'd go back home and life was d-u-l-I.

Layla was anything but.

What happened when you entered her apartment?

When I saw she was dead, I high-tailed it out of there.

You didn't try to help Martin cover it up?

No.

Why didn't you leave town?

There was some money... hush money.

The diamonds?

Yeah.

Guess what?

We have them.

Where'd Martin go?

He didn't have a penny on him.

He hated being without money.

It reminded him of when he was growing up.

So he's broke, he's a fugitive... who would he turn to?

Someone he could trust.

Amy...

Amy what's-her-name.

He still trusted her.

Amy, the office manager?

That's she.

Apartment Of Amy Tanner 224 East 76th Street Friday, October 29

Amy, who did this to you?

Frank.

What happened?

Frank came in all sweet... asked if he could borrow money.

I said, "I don't have any, Frank... all I have are the cards you gave me."

He exploded, said I owed him.

I was terrified.

He hit me and he tore the place up.

Then he finds some old, unused airline ticket.

He got real crazy.

Crazy, how?

He holds me down, he calls the airline desk in some hotel... gets me to say I'm an invalid, I'm sending my friend to change the ticket. They said, "Okay."

When was that?

Not long ago.

Frankie went too far.

He finally went too far.

I'm still having trouble with your card, sir.

You might want to try a cheaper class.

Our Business class is very nice.

Fine, whatever... just get me on the next plane.

Need a lift?

Would you?

Sure.

What time are you supposed to be at your brother's office?

Whenever... as soon as we wrap this up.

What line of work is your brother in?

Stocks, bonds, little of this, little of that.

I'd be happy to give him a few pointers.

That's great... I tell you, it won't take long here.

We just need to verify you're authorized to use the credit cards.

Which we assume you are, since it is Martin Global, right?

Was. You know, that was just an S-corp.

But hell, the ex is still running up charges on it, and these days, you never know whose getting into your private affairs and personal finances.

You want a sparkling water, something like that?

Bubbles give me gas.

Maybe a cappuccino?

You got a cappuccino machine?

No, but we could order out, right?

We're not b*at cops here, Mr. Martin.

We're more like... what?

Investigative bean counters.

It's like that thing with what's-her-name? Layla... that's a little out of our wheelhouse.

We just came in because there was a little financial twist there.

Because of the diamonds, you know.

Which, by the way, your friend Tucker has some crazy story about you.

Me, what?

It's nothing, it's ridiculous.

Southerners though... great storytellers.

Yeah, Freddie's a born liar.

Can I make a phone call?

Sure, let me just get you an outside line.

That's okay.

Look, can I go now?

Soon... we're just waiting for the computer to pull up your platinum card.

What time did you call him?

Who?

Your friend, "Freddie the liar."

He said you called him to come to Layla's house.

When?

That night.

What night?

"Who? When? What?"

We should hire this guy.

I need to call my lawyer.

They said I wouldn't get into trouble if I told the truth.

Amy was the go-to gal when the Martin interplanetary folk were short of mad money.

I'll see to it that you're given full immunity.

I met Frank at Maxwell's one happy hour.

Businessmen hung there until their trains left, so me and my friends would go there for free drinks, try to score a job from some sloshed executive.

Was Martin sloshed?

No, he was always in control.

Little did I know.

He got off on eroto-asphyxiation.

Strangling girls for kicks.

Did he ever try that with you?

Hell, no.

See, I don't mind a little "recreational spankies," tying up... playful stuff.

So he quickly lost interest in me.

He liked the thrill of controlling women who struggled against him.

The sick bastard.

He said that he and his "homeboy," Tucker used to tie farmgirls to trees, then sit in the woods, just laughing, getting off on watching them struggle.

Martin was from Tennessee, too?

Yeah, but they never got into trouble because they were minors at the time.

Besides, as he says, "They were only colored girls."

The chivalry part comes in where they let them go rather than leave them there and let them die of exposure and humiliation.

And I know this is hard for you, but this doesn't help us with the m*rder of Layla Briggs.

This will.

No, Frank, you called Tucker.

He called me.

No, Frank, you called... 8:22.

You called him.

I told you that was about a problem with the Tennessee regulators.

As soon as I got to the office, I had my executive assistant page Mr. Tucker to set up a meeting.

Do you think we're from "Pea Patch," Frank?

'Cause this... this isn't a farm, but you are in some pretty deep horse manure.

The call that we're talking about is at 8:22 p.m., Frank, not a.m. 8:22 in the evening, New York City time.

Like I said, my assistant will verify...

Frank, stop with the CEO routine, okay. We're all plain folks here.

Hey, you don't have to get nasty.

Nasty?

Nasty is putting out your cigarette on your executive assistant's thigh.

Nasty is cheating little old ladies from Tennessee out of their life savings and choking the air out of Layla Briggs' windpipe, then leaving her corpse for her mother to find.

That's definitely nasty.

I am not going to participate any further until I speak with my lawyer.

You called him three hours ago... he hasn't returned your call.

You think he checked your credit?

Sho-Ling has turned you in.

Amy has turned you in.

Looks like the rats have jumped ship, Frank.

You choked her, didn't you?

I didn't choke her... Tucker did.

Because of the stolen diamonds?

No.

We didn't even know about that.

It was strictly for kicks.

For kicks?

Yeah.

I was doing her, and Tucker started squeezing her throat, just massaging it, really.

She liked it, but then her eyes said, "Stop."

"Stop"?

So why didn't he?

I don't know.

He'll claim it was for my benefit, right?

But the truth... the truth is, that was the biggest turn-on for him.

Not the sex part, the seeing how far you can go.

And he went all the way.

- That's not what we heard.

What did you hear?

Stuff about you tying up the ladies down home.

That was nothing.

Nothing?!

We were kids...

15, 16.

You and Frankie?

Minors.

Besides, that's just the way it was then... down there.

So it was just a slight cultural difference, torturing women?

Torturing?

Where did you get that from?

With pleasure, I mean... they must have liked being left out there in the woods... the solitude, the mosquitoes.

It broke the boredom.

The boredom of sitting on a porch, eating watermelon and having babies, you mean?

You're not a public defender.

No, I'm Detective Jeffries.

I only came in to see the redneck under the facade of the "New South."

Now I'm kind of sorry I did.

Oh... Martin rolled on him.

What'd she mean?

Sit down!

What the hell does that mean?

You have been Mirandized. If you'd like to write a statement, it might...

I emphasize, might... help in mitigating your sentence, depending on whether the District Attorney's office will even entertain the option of a plea bargain, which I doubt.

What the hell is he talking about, son?

It means you and Frank are gonna hang.
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