Mercy (2000) Movie Script

This just came in from Ops.
Somehow Cushing and Leeland were on it,
and they've requested our presence.
Leeland and fucking Cushing?
- I guess they were first up.
- That call should have come to us.
Whoever took it I guess didn't think
it sounded like a match.
Hi, Wendell.
- Cold enough for you?
- Yeah. I'm feeling it.
They're through there.
Hold that for me, will you?
Hey, Catherine, John.
Want to take a look?
What do we got?
Dorothy Anne Samenov,
an executive at Transitel.
It's a computer software firm.
Thirty-eight years old,
according to her driver's license.
- She live alone?
- Yeah.
- Who found her?
- A patrolman found her. VanMeter.
Came here with a friend
of the victim's.
Vickie Kittrie.
Last Friday Samenov and Kittrie
went for a drink after work.
Dorothy here left the bar
at about 6:30 p.m.
That was the last time
anyone saw her.
She didn't show up for work
or anywhere else. Kittrie got worried.
So what do you think?
It's the same boy?
What's been touched here?
Just the carpet under our shoes,
and not very damn much of that.
So, what do you think, John?
I think she's going to her grave
wide awake.
Is this the same as the Maywood Hotel,
or what?
Yeah, but she's been knocked around
a little more.
With the eyes open like this?
The other tied down?
Same marks, ankles and wrists.
No evidence of a struggle.
Maybe she was into it.
Not this much.
Her eyes aren't open.
- Oh, shit.
- What?
Her eyelids have been cut off.
We'll take it from here.
- No way.
- We caught the first vic.
Yeah, and this is our catch.
I want to know,
what's in it for you, Cush?
What's that supposed to mean?
We don't really
want the media in on this...
so I don't understand
why you're interested.
Oh, really? You're the one who wants
to be in People magazine, Catherine.
"Twenty-Five Most Intriguing People. "
Don and me, we just caught the call.
Thanks, Chief.
Miss Kittrie, how do you do?
My name is Detective Palmer.
I'll be investigating the case.
Do you mind if I ask you
a few questions?
I'm gonna put this on.
Is that okay with you?
Friday night you met for drinks?
At Seniorelli's.
Just you and Dorothy?
Some of the other girls
from work.
You meet there often?
Two or three times a week.
It's on the way home.
You meet men there?
Not really.
Well, you do or you don't.
We'd just go there
to unwind after work.
You found Dorothy?
- Yes.
- You saw what she looks like?
Vickie, is there anything you can tell
us about Dorothy's private life...
that might make any sense
out of what you saw?
Does that look like it makes
any sense?
On Thursday, October 11...
Sandra Moser kisses her husband
and two sons good night.
She tells the maid she'll be back
in a couple of hours...
because Thursday night
is her yoga night.
She was found murdered at
the Maywood Hotel the next morning...
in a suite she rented
with some fake I.D.
On Friday, October 24...
Dorothy Ann Samenov meets
a few friends for drinks...
at a place called Seniorelli's.
She leaves at 6:30
saying she's tired.
She was murdered in her house
later that night.
You've got a rich housewife
and a high-powered company executive.
Different lifestyles,
different friends.
- We got nothing that connects them yet.
- Nothing matches?
We got geography.
They lived about a mile apart.
Same social background.
This is all low-risk stuff.
We got any trace evidence?
The bodies were washed.
No semen, no saliva, no prints.
- You checked, did you?
- All right.
The four of you are a task force now.
Get busy on this.
Free association time.
One time when I was a child...
I was...
staying at my aunt and uncle's house
for the summer.
It was in the middle
of the afternoon and...
I went into my Aunt Ceile's room...
to get a sewing basket.
I thought there was no one there.
And when I walked in...
there was a man standing there.
And, I mean, I didn't know
who it was...
and my Aunt Ceile was lying naked
on the bed.
She didn't see me,
and then, very slowly...
he raised his fingers
to his lips...
telling me to be quiet,
and I...
I backed out of the room
and left.
My husband is fucking a woman
who has practically no breasts at all.
I've hired an investigator.
He's taking pictures.
And why did you do that?
I'm keeping a file.
Or rather, my lawyer is.
Why didn't you offer me a drink?
Because I really didn't think
you should have one.
what if I stopped seeing you?
Would you miss me?
Yes, of course I'd miss you.
You're the only person
I can relax with in this way.
You're not fucking
any of your other patients?
- So you're a cop?
- Yeah.
You like that?
What do you work? Vice?
That's a little weird, isn't it?
I mean, you being a woman and all?
- What do you do?
- Mechanic.
I fix things.
Say you got an old lady...
and she comes into the shop,
and she's driving...
a '72 Chevy.
She's hearing
a little ticking noise.
Turns out she's got
a busted transmission.
Gonna cost her 2,000 bucks.
Only thing is...
she didn't have any money.
What are you gonna do?
I'd say, "I don't fucking care. "
You're looking
at someone's mother, pal...
and all you see is an old lady...
with a busted-up car
and not enough cash.
All I ever see...
people's dead mothers.
Just a name on a file.
Guy in a Dumpster.
Girl in a landfill.
Little dead boy in a park.
Can you fix that?
I had a dream last night.
You've had this dream before?
Please tell me about it.
I'm lying in bed at night and...
this thought comes into my head...
that my insides
are slowly detaching themselves...
from one another.
Little gummy strings of me
getting thinner and thinner...
about to snap.
My mother
is a very beautiful woman.
Even now.
She discovered all the wealth
of the Borgias...
in one
prematurely balding executive...
and she was not about
to let it slip away.
Even after they got married
she told me I had to thank him...
any time he did anything for us,
or she'd punish me.
So I did.
Whether it was for a gift
he bought me...
or a glass of milk he poured,
or when he put gas in the car...
I thanked him.
One day he picked me up
from school.
He told me...
there was no need for me
to be constantly grateful.
My stepfather talked to me
as though I were a whole person.
He won me over.
I grew to love him.
Eventually the memory
of my real father faded away...
and those...
dreams I used to have ended.
- You've heard a lot of stories here.
- Yes.
Do you like hearing them?
It's not a matter
of liking, Mary.
I use them to help people.
And where did you say
you and Dorothy met?
- In Austin.
- Is that where you're from?
You said that Dorothy got you your job.
Yes. After we met, she invited me
to come here.
- And you moved in together?
- For a while.
So in the time that you were
living together...
you don't remember
a single relationship...
that she might have had
of any significance?
Come on, Vickie. There must have been
someone in her life.
- There was one guy she was seeing.
- There we go.
He was married,
so it was discreet.
And his name?
Gil Reynolds.
He's a senior executive at Westgate.
The relationship lasted
the better part of a year.
We had no contact after it ended,
and that was six months ago.
Relationship was
during your marriage?
It ruined my marriage.
Rather, I ruined it.
I noticed you still wear
your wedding ring.
- Yes, I do.
- Do you live alone, Mr. Reynolds?
Yes, I do.
Can you tell me where you were
last Friday evening?
Sure. I already checked
my calendar.
I was here in the office
until 7:00...
then I went to Chase's
and had dinner alone...
which I prefer
to eating alone at home.
They'll have a record
at the restaurant.
Then I went to a movie and...
I'm afraid I only have myself
as an alibi.
Was S and M between you and Dorothy
routine, or just an occasional thing?
Now, that's to the point.
Actually, it was neither.
You knew about her preference
for it?
- Only at the end.
- How'd you find out?
- She told me.
- What did she say?
Well, not that much.
I mean, I didn't really want to know.
We found these in her apartment.
You wouldn't happen to be the man
in the leather mask, would you?
God, no.
Do you have any idea
who might be?
I'm sorry. I can't help you.
Poor Dorothy.
She really was a lost soul,
wasn't she?
This is Palmer.
Hey, Carmen,
thanks for calling back.
Listen, I was wondering if you knew
of any places...
that were operating in town
at the moment?
You think you could set me up
with a dom for a talk tonight?
Just off the record.
Most people
that come in here...
are into the BD
and the fetish side.
A lot fewer
are into the role playing...
although that's what really
releases the endorphins.
Gets you high.
I call this the "unthreatening" room.
There's another one,
the "heavy" room...
which is a little bit more menacing.
And what's your area
of expertise, Terry?
Japanese silk ropes and the finer...
psychological aspects of
the relationship between the players.
I can tie you up
so you can't twitch your ass cheeks.
Of course it's time consuming.
It'll cost you a couple of grand.
Mostly the businessmen like that.
That's her husband.
He brought a friend.
It's all pretty harmless.
And as you know, there's no sexual
intercourse allowed on the premises.
The alternate safe sex.
I'd like you to have
a look at these.
Yeah. She came here once.
What about the man?
Do you remember him?
No, because she didn't come with a man.
She came with her girlfriend.
Dorothy brought a woman here?
I have a security camera
over the front door.
It takes a still every time
the doorbell rings and loads it...
onto my computer.
There we go.
Can you give me a printout?
- Hello?
- It's Detective Palmer.
I wonder if I could come in
and talk to you for a moment.
Sure. Come on in.
What is it?
It's the view from Terry Ross's
front door.
It means that I know you and Dorothy
were lovers...
and partial to a little rough sex.
A small oversight you made
during our last conversation.
Who and how I fuck
are my business.
No, it isn't.
Not when they end up dead, Vickie.
Dorothy wasn't the first one.
I know.
Sandra was.
You knew Sandra Moser?
- Yes.
- Did Dorothy know Sandra Moser?
And you would like me to believe
that this is some big coincidence?
The three of you
knew each other...
and you're the only one
that's left alive?
It's not just me.
What does that mean?
Who else?
There's a group of women...
who like to get together
without men.
And Dorothy and Sandra
were part of this group?
Yes. Yes.
Did Dorothy and Sandra Moser have
a relationship, Vickie?
Yes. They had a thing together
back in the past.
Okay, how many women
are we talking about here?
Some of these women
are prominent.
Or their husbands are.
I don't care.
So what?
So we don't use our real names
with each other.
Doesn't this scare you?
I mean, doesn't this scare you
just a little bit?
I make a lot of money
every year.
This is my home.
It used to be a shitty little hole
in the ground, and I know...
I'm not going back there
because of who I like to sleep with.
That scares me.
Come on. Let's go.
Who were the men involved
with Dorothy in this kind of sex?
I don't know.
It was something she asked me to do.
Look at the fucking pictures.
I'm telling you,
there weren't any men.
Then who the fuck is that?
When we did it...
it was just the two of us.
Is that it?
We found some unidentified hairs
on Dorothy's bed...
and since you and Dorothy
were lovers, we need...
to take a sample to find out
which of them are yours.
What do you want me to do?
I need a sample from your head
and from your pubic area.
Come on.
You can go into the bathroom
and do that.
I don't care.
Let's just do it here.
Do you have this
in a size six?
That's a beautiful necklace.
- Oh. Thank you.
- A present?
- Excuse me?
- The necklace. Was it a present?
But not the coat.
You bought that yourself.
- Right.
- From Carmen DuPratt's on Swift Street.
I'm a clothes junkie.
Hi. Marishka.
- Bernadine.
- Hi.
- Hi.
- Here you go.
- Great. Thank you very much.
- You're welcome.
If my stepfather had asked me
to drink poison, I would have done it.
He meant that much to me.
He became my best friend.
We swam together in our pool,
played games.
He loved me.
He told me so.
At the same time, my mother
seemed to relinquish any...
attachment to me.
My relationship with my stepfather
seemed to free her...
to simply pay attention
to herself.
I wanted to tell my stepfather
that I loved him too.
I didn't want him to drift away...
from me...
like my mother...
One afternoon I went shopping.
I bought my first
two-piece swimsuit.
It was aquamarine.
In the summer
we would swim at night.
I liked that because...
the light under the water
seemed very exotic.
And then suddenly he shivered...
and held me tighter.
I thought I tried to get away.
But he just laughed and shoved me,
pretending to be playing again.
I swam towards the side of the pool.
I looked at my mother.
She hadn't seen anything.
Call on 511.
This is Palmer.
I feel bad about today.
- Who is this?
- It's Vickie Kittrie.
What do you feel bad about, Vickie?
About lying.
I know it was wrong.
I just...
The truth isn't gonna bring
Dorothy back...
is it?
No, it isn't.
There's gonna be a party tonight.
Some of those women you were
asking about are gonna be there.
I could take you, if you want.
As your date?
Why don't you give me the address.
I'll meet you there.
- You look great.
- Thanks.
I'm glad you made it.
- Want something to drink?
- Sure. That'd be nice.
A den of iniquity.
So some of these women
have stopped by...
after an evening out
with their husbands or families.
Others have just come
for a night out.
I get the ones with the husbands,
but you and Dorothy, I don't know.
Why all the secrecy there?
Dorothy thought
it would hurt her career.
Or at least,
put the brakes on it.
She was probably right.
How many detectives are there
where you work?
How many women?
So, what do you do
when you call it a night?
What, do you go to a bar
with all the guys?
Listen to all that testosterone?
I like testosterone.
Gets things done.
And I don't have to lie
about where I am at night.
So your husband doesn't mind?
I'm not married.
I thought all cops
were married or divorced.
That what you thought?
Who's that woman over there?
Helena, our hostess.
She keeps looking over here.
She's just jealous.
Come on.
Hey. How are you?
Good to see you.
- I've got to go.
- Really?
Yeah. Thanks for a lovely evening.
It was very enlightening.
No, stay. Stay.
Leeland spent the day
over at Terry Ross's...
going through every still
in her computer...
of whoever went through
her front door.
Guess who was a regular.
She's been in between the sheets
with both vics.
And she lied about it.
I say we pull her in
right now.
- Can't do that.
- Why not?
Because I've just come
from spending the evening...
with Vickie
and about 35 other women...
some of whom might be married
to our bosses.
What, is this some kind of
sisterhood thing here?
"Yes, damn it, there are thousands
of us in every neighborhood. "
I don't know, Cushing.
Why do you ask?
I've just never heard of something
like this group before.
Oh, like you'd be
the first to know?
This whole thing's
a surprise to you, isn't it?
I don't think it's the key.
So what is?
Pain, and people who
don't like their sex without it.
I think that's the door
that lets men into this group.
I say we tail Vickie.
See where it leads us.
- It's me.
- What do you want?
Filmore Hotel.
Fuck you.
You owe me, Vickie.
- For what?
- The secrets of your sad life.
- They found out anyway.
- Not through me.
- Yes?
- What are they looking for?
A man in a leather mask.
Room 325.
Stuff's there.
She's in 325, alone.
What about 23, 27?
I'm going to go set up an eye.
- You okay?
- Yeah, I'm all right.
Go see if Reynolds
is around the back.
Gil Reynolds was a marine sniper
in Vietnam.
February 1969 to July 1971.
He did three tours.
He requested a fourth,
but they turned him down.
A fucking sniper.
How eerie is that shit?
He was discharged September '71
with 91 confirmed kills.
We got any psychological analysis
in his medical records?
No. The Corps protects its own.
What else we got?
His ex-wife Denise.
She left him after she found out
he was having an affair...
with Dorothy Samenov.
Two months before she left him,
she was admitted...
to the emergency room
at Baylor Medical Center.
Severely battered.
Claimed she was mugged.
Now she's missing.
And we can't find her?
Missing Persons
checked her apartment.
Suitcase gone,
a lot of clothes too...
along with the car.
Is this business or pleasure?
What makes you think
it would be pleasure?
You said you wanted to meet
for a drink.
No. I said I wanted to talk.
I could have called you
down to the station house...
but we don't have a DJ.
Tom Collins, please.
I saw you with Gil Reynolds.
I followed you
to the Filmore Hotel.
I watched you do your
little dance of death for him.
Gil does miss his old army days.
You gotta stop lying to me, Vickie.
It's not healthy.
Come on. Please.
Gil told me a story
about when he was in the army.
He wasn't very popular
with the other guys...
and one night they tied him
to a chair...
and Gil got a boner.
That's how he discovered
he had a little thing...
for bondage.
He's pathetic.
Let me ask you a question,
Why does a beautiful girl
like you...
need to make believe
that a creep like Gil Reynolds...
puts a bullet between her eyes?
It's his sick game.
- You're playing it with him.
- Not mine.
You're playing it
with him.
What is it?
There's a worm inside me.
Men tend to bring it out.
But not women.
Some matches, please.
Let's go somewhere else.
It's Friday night.
Everywhere's gonna be packed.
Why don't we just
go to your place?
We'll be screaming
at each other all night.
Let's pretend I've come here
for psychotherapy.
All right.
You know that story I told you?
- About my aunt?
- Yes.
it wasn't quite true,
what I said.
The truth is...
when I walked
into my aunt's bedroom...
I didn't find her
with a strange man.
I found her with a woman.
Why do you think
you told me it was a man?
at the last minute, I...
I couldn't go through with it.
With what?
Well, it was part of a plan...
and the story
was an introduction.
An introduction to what?
To my story.
She's younger than I am.
I had no idea...
what I was getting into.
What I was missing.
I had no idea...
that I could feel such things.
I mean...
things I've never felt
with a man.
You've been coming here
for five years.
Why have you
never mentioned this before?
I've come here within an hour
of having been with her.
I've had you both
within an hour.
And you know...
I've never understood...
what it was
that men wanted from sex.
Because it was never
what I wanted.
I've always been left
with the feeling of...
"Oh, well.
Not quite this time. "
- Who was the woman at the bar tonight?
- Why?
The way you looked at her,
she could have been an old flame.
She was. My husband's.
I thought you said
you weren't married.
I'm not. He's dead.
You didn't have anything to do
with that, did you?
A drunk in a Buick beat me to it.
Did you cheat on your husband?
- How come?
- 'Cause those are the rules.
He did.
Well, they're my rules.
- Why'd you get married?
- I don't know.
Why does anybody do anything?
Why did you choose Dorothy?
Because I needed love,
not fucking.
I thought she knew the difference.
How'd you get swept
off your feet?
I got fucked
right from the beginning.
- How did that happen?
- It happened in court.
He was a defense attorney...
very good one.
By the time the case was over,
he'd convinced me...
that the defendant was innocent.
And I collared the asshole.
Asshole got off.
I got nailed.
Well, I wasn't exactly faithful
to Dorothy.
That's about the one thing we have
found out in this investigation.
Do you know
what I think sex is?
A thrill.
It's like putting your head
in the mouth...
of the only lion in the cage
totally unpredictable.
Aren't you just
a little bit curious?
What do you want to do?
Take me to one of your dungeons?
You'd be amazed at the use we can get
out of simple kitchen utensils.
What's your fantasy?
Do you want a guy?
A threesome
to ease you into it?
- I want the bad guy.
- You want a name?
I'll whisper it to you.
I like you.
Is that it?
Is that all it takes?
I picked up a woman once because she
was wearing a beautiful necklace...
with gold serpents
and green stones.
- This can't happen.
- Why'd you ask me here?
To talk.
About what? What?
- What is it you want to talk about?
- I already told you.
You want to know who I think
killed Dorothy and Sandra?
Or you want to know what
it was like to fuck them?
I want to know what you're hiding.
I come from a home environment where
"family love" meant something different.
I left my little sister
behind to take my place.
Can you picture that?
Can you?
We know who the killer is.
This is Palmer.
Okay, yeah. I'll meet you
at the off-ramp on Clarke.
Hey, John,
what happened with Reynolds?
Palmer and Birley?
- What do you got?
- Follow me.
That's the husband. He's talking
to the Rockwater police chief.
- They got here first?
- It's their case unless you say "snap. "
Snap. What happened?
Husband came home from a trip,
San Francisco.
Got here a little after 3:00.
Said they sleep in separate bedrooms.
Said they've always done that
since they've been married...
which is only a couple of years.
Bedrooms are located on
the opposite ends of this hallway.
His. Hers.
Said he always checks on her
no matter how late it is...
when he comes in from
an out-of-town trip.
It's like it's the same woman
over and over again.
I'll tell you something.
I've never seen anything like this.
- Who is she?
- Bernadine Mello.
Doesn't anybody still get off on
just good old normal sex anymore?
Missionary position,
then you watch TV afterward?
I picked up a woman once because she
was wearing a beautiful necklace...
with gold serpents
and green stones.
John, when did they call
time of death?
Between midnight and 2:30 a.m.
Why were you hiding this
under your bed?
It was just under the bed.
There's a difference.
We saw your little dance of death
routine with Vickie Kittrie.
Is that why I'm here?
You wanna maybe run it by us,
this dance thing?
Well, my side of the story's
fairly obvious, don't you think?
Well, Vickie was apparently...
the family mattress for
her father, her brother...
various uncles and cousins.
I mean, that's what Dorothy said.
- Here's that address.
- Believers in psychobabble...
would have a field day with that,
I'm sure.
Whoa, boy.
Down, boy. Down.
Down. Down.
I'm a police officer.
Your door was unlocked.
- I came by to speak to you.
- Don't you believe in calling first?
- Sorry. Are you with a patient now?
- Yes. What do you want to talk about?
A patient of yours has been murdered,
Bernadine Mello.
Give me a few minutes.
Wait here.
Her husband said she'd been seeing you
throughout their marriage.
- Yes.
- How long was she a patient of yours?
A little over five years.
What brought her to you initially?
Chronic depression.
The abuse of alcohol.
She wasn't one of my
more successful patients.
Was she bisexual, Doctor?
Yes, although I only
found this out recently.
It was latent,
then she met a woman...
and then she was having an affair.
Did she say who she was?
No, only that she was younger.
Did she mention
a Vickie Kittrie to you?
Let me ask you, Doctor.
In a case such as this...
where the victims have been
so badly brutalized...
it's quite possible that the killer was
a victim of child abuse, isn't it?
I'd say it was highly probable.
And that this would be some
delayed form of revenge, right?
Yes, quite possibly.
- Then why are the victims women?
- The majority of child abuses...
aren't necessarily men.
Society has a contradictory reaction
to the victims of child abuse.
If a 14-year-old girl is seduced by
an older man, it's a horror story.
If a 14-year-old boy
is seduced by an older woman...
it's a coming-of-age comedy.
Frankly, it's a fantasy to think men and
women as so different in such things.
Deep down we're very much alike...
for better, for worse.
I'd like to put something
on the table.
We've been looking at this group
of women as the victim pool.
What if one of them's the killer?
She'd have access
to the other women...
they'd be willing to meet her...
and they'd trust her.
You're saying we're
looking for a woman?
Catherine, look.
No matter what one thinks
of the FBI profiles...
not one of the personalities
they sketched out...
as a serial killer
was a female.
Yeah, I know.
Profiles prepared by...
male FBI analysts
of male sexual killers.
- I read them all.
- So have I.
The FBI profile shows
a killer who hunts his prey...
kills at random in varying environments
and they're all male.
Historically, female serial killers
kill either at home or in one location.
- That's not what we got here.
- We have three different locations.
I know how many different
locations we have.
Look, you're saying that
the killer has to be a man.
Why? Because the FBI says
it can't be a woman?
- I'm just saying "Why not?"
- I'm sorry. Did I miss something here?
- I thought we had a suspect.
- Who? Gil Reynolds?
Gil Reynolds is a sick little fuck,
okay? That's it.
Somehow I don't picture him the type
to wash his victims...
comb their fucking hair
and put makeup on their faces!
Dominick, it's Mary.
I need to see you.
Can I come up?
I'm coming up.
I don't care
that you're dressed up.
I have to talk to you.
This morning I wasn't through.
We had to stop.
I had to tell you more
about the little girl...
you know... me.
I lied...
or rather, it was like a lie
because it never came out.
You know, really came out.
How long do you think I should have
let him come to my bed at night?
All through my 12th year?
Until I was 13? 14?
16? 17?
But there was one more surprise.
There came the time
of the worst part.
The worst part of all.
The worst part of it was...
The worst part of all...
was the night my daddy
came to me in my bed...
and I enjoyed it.
See you tonight, Nance.
Oh, fuck!
Detective, have you got an I.D. yet?
It's probably in
her bag beside you.
Her driver's license
is probably in her bag.
Her name's Vickie Kittrie.
She lived at 2201 South Almar.
Well, that's that. Reynolds' lawyer will
have him out in 30 fucking seconds.
Maybe Catherine's still right.
The dyke did herself outta guilt.
- Are you fucking crazy?
- Fuck you, you fucking dyke!
Okay. I'm fine. I'm fine.
Get the fuck off me.
What are you doing?
Excuse me.
Are you Miss Hardeman?
- Yeah.
- You know who that is inside your house?
I've already said I have no idea.
Her name was Vickie Kittrie.
You know her now?
If you've been reading the papers,
you know what this is all about.
Yeah, yeah, I know Vickie.
But you didn't know she was coming
to your house last night.
No. I haven't seen her
in maybe two months.
- What's she doing in your house, Jane?
- I don't know.
You want to start by telling us
how the fuck she got in?
She knew I kept a spare in the mailbox.
Fucking stupid.
You have any idea
who she might've met here?
Look, I didn't know her that long,
all right?
We were four or five months
till I found out about her...
her tastes.
And what were they?
As a surprise,
she called it a dungeon.
She wanted me to
do things with her.
I see enough pain in my work.
I don't need it in my sex life.
Where'd she take you?
- Where was it?
- Somewhere in Montrose.
There was a woman there. Her name
was Miriel Farr. It was her place.
- You Miss Farr?
- Yeah?
I'm Detective Palmer.
I'd like to talk to you for a minute.
- What about?
- You wanna let me in?
- You got a warrant?
- No. I could get one.
Take a little longer and it'd
probably just piss me the fuck off...
so why don't you just let me in?
- You alone here, Miriel?
- Yeah.
- Where's your back door?
- Out the kitchen here.
Hi, hon.
You got any cookies?
Shit. Is this a bust?
Not if you don't want it to be.
We just want to talk to you.
You mind if I finish packing
while we do this?
Not at all.
- Where you going, Miriel?
- New Orleans.
- Better customers?
- Better crawfish.
Okay, this is what we know.
Vickie Kittrie used to come here,
work out in this little gym of yours.
- Sometimes she'd bring some friends.
- Did she bring a Gil Reynolds here?
Hey, I'm talking to you.
He's a regular, right?
Yeah, Gil came by now and again.
Who else did Vickie
and Reynolds bring?
Sometimes Vickie went out slumming.
She'd cruise the dens,
pick up girls, bring them back here.
Play whatever game she was into.
Sometimes she'd ask me
to keep an eye on them.
You know what they say...
lesbians do it harder.
Hey, you, baldie.
Where are you going?
- Come here, you fucking cop!
- Get the fuck off me!
- John, you okay?
- I'm okay. Go on, go on.
Stop, motherfucker, stop!
Hey, you!
Get down, you fucking shitbag!
- How you doing, John?
- Son of a bitch.
I go out on my retirement
a fucking cripple.
Okay, stop whining.
It's just right through the thigh.
You're gonna be okay.
- How's he doing?
- He's a little ornery.
Nothing permanent. Sally Anrs
with him now. Who's our shooter?
A real piece of shit named
Clyde Barbish. Miriel's boyfriend.
I'd introduce you, but I don't
want to break his train of thought.
- This skell just broke our case for us.
- How?
It seems that Gil Reynolds' wife Denise
did not leave town on her own accord.
As part of the divorce settlement,
she was gonna expose Reynolds...
for the perverted shit that he is.
- Gil pays Clyde to put a bullet in her.
- With a Colt. 45.
Mm-hmm. It seems these
thickheaded cowboys...
they love their guns so much
they can't part with them.
Now he wants to make a deal, and he
says he's got the whole thing on tape.
How's that?
The deal with Reynolds
went down at Miriel's.
She had a habit of videotaping
everything from a peephole.
Reynolds is gonna need a real good
lawyer to escape the needle on this.
Why don't you go get the tapes?
We'll ruin his day.
Isn't your husband just the least bit
curious about where you are?
He's out of town.
He took the boys to my mother's house
in the country for the weekend.
- He does that a lot.
- And you didn't want to go?
Every child's initial erotic
attachment is to its mother.
This means for a girl...
she's first attracted
to a person of the same sex.
The primary tragedy
of father-daughter incest...
is the damage done to
this mother-daughter bond.
It leaves the daughter with an intense
longing for a nurturing relationship...
with another woman.
The little girl incest victim
is torn too early from her mother...
and she is doomed to revisit
through memories her father...
her betrayer,
her abuser, her lover.
I'm going to paint our faces.
My angel.
I'll take care of you.
You know I'm gonna
take care of you, right?
Look at yourself.
Look in the mirror.
Look how beautiful you are.
Look how beautiful I made you.
You were so pathetic
when I met you.
Come on, baby.
Show us your tits.
- Oh, yeah?
- Come on. Show us your tits.
- Why don't you show me yours?
- You wanna see my tits?
Yeah, I wanna see your tits.
Take her. She's yours.
Pathetic bitch.
Would you like me to tie you up?
I've never done it before.
We can take turns.
I'm gonna sue the fucking
police department out their ass.
All I said was,
"Clyde, is that you?"
And this fucking bitch here,
she broke my fucking jaw!
You're gonna be charged with
capital murder, Miriel. Four counts.
- What?
- Sandra Moser, Bernadine Mello...
- Dorothy Samenov and Vickie Kittrie.
- What the fuck are you talking about?
You and Dr. Dominick Broussard.
Tall cross-dresser,
blond wig, black dress.
You let him use your peep.
Maggie. Margaret Boll.
Whatever that nut did,
I had nothing to do with it.
- He just paid me to let him watch.
- Who? Watch who?
Dorothy at first.
Then if he saw her with another woman
that he liked, he'd add her to the list.
Yeah, and none of them
fucking knew, right?
Come on. Listen,
I worked LA and San Francisco.
- These women were a bunch of nuts.
- Yeah, and now they're all dead.
I have a story to tell you.
If you don't hear it,
you won't understand.
You must have known it
from the beginning.
The night in the pool. She sat there,
her legs in the water, seeing nothing.
I must've known it.
She was there watching...
when he did that to me.
I wanted to see
if she was seeing, but...
I was too afraid.
She didn't come and kiss me
good night that night.
I noticed that because
she never did it again.
I became invisible to her.
It was then that I finally
admitted to myself...
that I hated her.
And I wanted her to know...
that I hated her.
One night we were watching TV,
she decided to take a bath...
and come back in half an hour
for some show she wanted to watch.
As soon as she left,
he started pawing me.
I decided this was
the time to do it.
So I let him start undressing me.
For the first time,
I let him take everything off.
I heard her footsteps as she
came back through the kitchen...
and then they stopped.
I wanted to see her expression, but
then I would've seen him on top of me.
So I didn't look.
I just imagined her standing there...
until she left.
Then I just lay there
until he finished.
He was pathetic.
I went to the bathroom...
and I washed myself off and I forced
myself to go back to the family room.
She was already sitting
in her chair watching TV...
eating ice cream.
That's when I realized
I'd been bargained off.
There never was going
to be an end to it.
I let him have what he wanted. We didn't
have to go back to our old life again...
and you knew.
You abandoned me.
Even in the womb, you abandoned me.
I'm sorry.
Mr. Kittrie? I'm Detective Palmer.
May we come in?
- What's this about?
- May we come in, please?
Guess so.
Do you have a daughter
named Vickie?
- Do you?
- I haven't heard from her in years.
- She took off.
- I have some bad news. Vickie's dead.
She's been murdered.
The girl never kept in touch.
Before she died, she was able
to tell me some things about you...
and about her brother.
Is that your other daughter?
This is Miss Dawes.
Miss Dawes is a social worker.
She's giving you
a court judgment...
that's allowing us
to take your daughter with us.
Miss Dawes is going to ask her
some questions and then examine her.
If we find any improprieties
or any instances of abuse...
- you'll lose your daughter permanently.
- You can't do that.
Oh, yes, I can.