Fallen Page #4

You still there? Hello?

Check and see if there's a G. Milano,

a Gretta Milano. Can you do that for me?

-Hold, please.

-Thanks.

Syringe had the same prints.

-So now what? Video time?

-Yeah.

You know, I was thinking....

Don't hurt yourself.

Eat me.

Hold for the number.

Whoever did Muskavich,

knew the poison that Reese used.

He quotes Reese. He could be a cop.

He could be, huh?

Lou, could be a cop, huh?

Please leave a message. Thank you.

Make sure Hobbes gets a copy of this.

Are you watching, Johnny-boy?

I hope you're paying close attention.

Every gesture!

Every word!

Wait a second.

What?

Check something out.

That...

...language he was speaking...

...later.

That's Dutch?

That's what he said.

What's he speaking now? Is that Dutch?

This now?

This is mumbo-jumbo, gibberish.

You sure on that?

Who is it?

It's Detective John Hobbes.

I'm looking for Miss Gretta Milano.

-Oh, yes. You left a message.

-Yes.

I wanted to talk to you about your father.

How're you doing?

May I come in?

Sure.

You're surrounded by angels.

I teach theology at the university.

I see. Very beautiful.

Thank you.

Why do you want to know

about my father?

It's 30 years later and the files are sealed...

...and my boss was told to let it alone, so...

...here I am.

I can tell you what my mother told me

before she died.

Why do you want to know?

Just curious, or...?

No, ma'am.

See, I'm the detective

who caught Edgar Reese.

I'm not sure if you're familiar with him.

He was just executed.

-Yeah, I read about him.

-Right.

And this Reese fella, he...

...in a roundabout way,

gave me your father's name.

Did Reese like to sing?

Yeah, he did, actually.

And at the execution,

did he try and touch you or grab you?

Yeah, he did. He shook my hand.

Do you want some coffee?

Sure.

One condition:

You and I never spoke.

You say nothing to your boss or partner.

Nothing goes in the files.

My name and everything I say

is just between us. Agreed?

Will I get a cup of coffee if I say yes?

Detective, my dad was a good cop.

"Pride of the force" and all that.

And then he shot himself.

A reporter found out

my father had been under investigation.

He'd caught a killer,

but copycat crimes started.

Evidence mounted up against him:

fingerprints, witnesses.

The press never got real proof,

but my father's medal was rescinded.

I see.

So you're saying that when he died

someone made this evidence go away?

The mayor, the governor and

the chief of police, they all needed a hero.

Some of these people are

still important today.

-I see.

-No. Not yet, you don't.

My father saw the evidence against him,

told my mother he couldn't beat it.

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