i walk out of the gym. walk to my car. i'm unlocking it and i hear a scuffle, a fight. over by this car i see this guy getting choked from behind and i shouted.
'stop.' i ran towards them. then the person doing the choking lets go and pointed a gun at me and ran. i'm so stupid. i could of been shot. i called the police gave him cpr until the paramedics came.
of course. i was giving him cpr.
the thing around his neck? yes. i took it off, it was choking him.
away from me.
the kind that puts really big holes in people.
black.
listen to me. i can draw a picture of his face. i saw him.
a sketch. i can sketch him. i'm very good.
i did not do this. i saw two guys fighting and should of ran the other way but i didn't. you need to find the person who killed this man. you need to find the guy who did this.
i hope you guys are playing bad cop smart cop.
thank you. he had these real intense eyes.
are you kidding me? lady, i saw someone get killed tonight and you're asking me about grade school?
i don't remember any of that.
i attended two. holy trinity and mother of good counsel. i remember sister bernard. and. i don't know, father jeffrey. mr. johansen. oh, and mrs. sebastien, she had a glass eye.
omigod. that's it, isn't it?
the thing around his neck. costa looking at grace, realizes it's a mind game.
i told the other guy, i'll tell you. i did not do this. grace. i saw who did this and i can show you what he looks like and you can go catch him. costa is unambiguously sincere. grace's attitude softens a bit. she tucks the garrote back in her bag.
i can draw him, thank you. grace crosses to the door. costa begins drawing in earnest.
you caught me.
toussant jean bernard. i met him in haiti last year. very troubled life. outlived all his children. and he had ten. he lost his wife to cancer and went blind. passed away last year.
ouch. and i was going to send you two and charge them to your amex.
what about daddy's amex? i've sold quite a bit of art to poor little rich girls like you.
try the wine.
why, thank you. agent vanderholt. i'm having a show friday. you should come by and meet some good people.
medical school. before i dropped out. i had a moment of clarity: in anatomy class i realized i'd rather draw bodies than cut them up. and when i realized i couldn't make art, i decided to sell it.
it's taken me all over the world.
at first i thought i was interrupting something, you know?
i thought they were hugging. then the gun came out when he saw me.
okay. think about friday. please, grace? grace will; she exits.
grace. someone broke into my office. minutes ago.
yes. my office here.
no.
you told me to call you if anything happened.
i do all my calls to europe and shipping stuff at night. my address book was on the screen when i went out for coffee. i came back and this was on the screen.
ten minutes. maybe. when i returned, that was on the screen.
is this about the strangling? is that guy after me?
no. everything's here. shit. he took my organizer and my business checkbook. grace nods for laval to step outside with her.
don't take the computer. that's my brain. costa turns to grace.
i'm not making this up. believe me. grace shrugs, sees an atm facing the alley.
believe what you want. he's cocky, grace likes that.
i must of walked right past him.
yes. that's him. that is the man i saw murder todd ford in the parking lot outside my gym. no doubt. now will you go catch him, please?
who is this guy? he's like a ninja. sneaking into my office. how dangerous is he? does he want to kill me?
how many people have you killed?
no. i'm not meeting him. absolutely not. you ever go fishing? the bait always dies.
grace, no.
what if he shoots me in the head?
you're good. you could move a lot of art if you wanted to. their eyes meet for a beat.
and inspire some too, i'm sure. right then something very rare happens; grace blushes.
could you look any more like a cop?
could i have some water? i'm cooking in this thing. costa scratches around the neck of the hot body armor. the bartender gives him a dasani. various angles: a half-dozen undercovers are mixed in with the clubgoers. camera finds reynaud sitting at the bar near costa, gives costa a reassuring nod through the crowd.
what?
i have a life. i can't play superhero for you. i don't handle stress very well. i have an art show to open tomorrow and i don't know what i'm putting on the walls yet.
grace, i've been cooperating. i even drew you a picture. you can't put your responsibility on me. you have a badge, not me.
i want to help you guys but i don't have time to hang out and listen to bad techno.
scared? i'm off-the-charts terrified. there's a pissed-off serial killer after me. i mean, what did i do to him?
until he's caught?
i have a lot of work to do.
they're protecting the art. go ahead and hang those. be very careful.
is he going to show up tonight? what do i do, offer him a drink?
a perimeter, excellent.
mingling? i don't need four bruisers crashing through my clientele.
with my thing. will you be mingling?
much safer.
you look a little anxious.
it's all you. grace gives costa a look. she sips her drink, nods at the painting.
mangos. ripe mangos hanging on a branch. now she sees it.
most people don't notice. this is from his prison series. he could see a mango grove through his cell window. he made some of the pigments himself. from flowers. from his own blood.
he attacked his neighbor with a machete. there was a woman involved.
dozens. he was a consumer of life's pleasures.
his children formed a corporation, i take ten percent. i'm not a buccaneer, grace. grace looks at costa and smiles.
what?
you're very sensitive for.
what are you doing?
dick, they're yours. the older man smiles, shakes costa's hand. the elegant woman looking at grace, arms crossed, enjoys her victory. grace plays along, stalks off, hiding a grin.
you helped me close the biggest sale of the night.
what do you want? grace smiles coyly.
let me know when you do. excuse me. costa walks away. grace reacts; she didn't want that.
please be cool with that. i don't wanna get hurt.
yessir. i apologize for everything you think i may have done.
stop it!
i'm okay. from reynaud's radio:
the night started out great. everything gelled. everyone was happy. you helped land a big fish and the feeding frenzy started. six figure pieces were flying off the wall. he said he was going to blow out my spine. i was thinking surgery. six months in bed. exercise pools. never walking again. grace looks at him. costa is worried.
he was in my bathroom and none of you could stop him. i need to leave town.
i would appreciate that very much. can i profile you? i read your book.
thirty-something, single white female. best schools best grades. discovers adrenaline policing the inner city.
okay. are you going to my funeral when martin asher cuts my throat? they both know she's been lowballing the threat. we can tell grace is truly concerned for costa's welfare.
you let him get away. grace takes that hard.
i meant you in the general sense. can you catch him?
sooner, please.
careful. costa scoots aside a pile of clothing. the newspapers. cool art, sketches, images all over the walls. reminiscent of grace's hotel room. and a very cool view of downtown. grace taking everything in. art books, sketch pads. piled high on the desk. she looks at the ceiling. sees notes and sketches taped up. grace laughs to herself.
i'm sorry. it's a sty. must be a profiling mother lode.
a failed healer, a failed artist. grace looking at a drawing on the wall. costa winces, he didn't want her to notice it.
no. that's you. i did it last night.
no. it's how i think you see yourself.
that would be out of bounds. grace looking at him. costa looking at her. a staring match. costa and grace try not to laugh. they end up giggling.
what was that?
then keep your head out of it. a beat. grace shrugs, back to business.
i don't know what your deal is. one second you're so there, then all i get is the badge.
yeah. relocate where?
this monster comes into my life and i have to leave? a uniform sergeant enters.
this is surreal. what do i pack?
i need tomorrow morning to finish up my business here.
i thought you were going to check under my bed. grace smiles, plays along, crosses, looks under the bed, stretching for costa. driving him nuts.
thank you. grace holds out her hand. they shake.
goodbye, then. costa leans across her, braces himself against the wall. a bold move. now they are eye to eye. grace kisses costa for a long beat. grace breaks the kiss. holds a finger to her lips; shhh. she turns and exits. the door shuts behind her. costa is going to miss grace.
you just shot a cop.
which way? left, right?
i'm flooring it.
are you going to kill me?
god help me. costa swings out to pass the truck.
okay. sorry. sorry. you don't want to do this.
please be cool. c'mon, we don't even know each other.
don't, man. i got money. you want money, i'll give you money. i got paintings. what do you want? talk to me, martin.
of course. no martin. what do you want? what's my life worth to you?
okay, please, martin. martin. be cool. asher aims his pistol at costa's head.
rot in hell, martin asher.
i think my hand is broken.
god yes. stop that.
is he dead?
hey. ouch, doc. that's not rawhide.
i'm okay. thank you for rescuing me.
to my grave. he was going to kill me.
what's fun for you? you want to go to the shooting range or the morgue? grace is hurt by that.
i'm sorry.
i know a place. you drive.
i'm happy to be alive but it's like this door has been opened. i don't think i was naive. but everything is different now.
how do you deal with it? all the misery and pain and violence.
so is it a calling or a curse?
when i was in med school i saw a guy on a harley get t-boned by a daihatsu. he was screaming in pain and needed help and i knew what to do, i had all my certs, but i saw all this blood and froze. i failed the big test. bye-bye, med school. hello, graphic design.
the man on the harley. costa reacts. sighs.
so you knew about that. no wonder you knew what to say to keep me cooperating.
you threw me in a tiger cage like a piece of meat.
i don't trust anyone who's too organized. grace puts some music on the clock radio.
please. she grabs a couple cold ones from the mini-fridge.
which is it, are you a runner or chaser?
people like you --
yeah, people like you. hardcore. gung-ho people like you. and you know what i mean. people like you are either runners or chasers. grace looks at costa.
i'm sorry. i didn't know.
how'd you get your voice back?
you are very intense, you know that?
why did your uncle do it?
that's a hell of a lot of responsibility for you to put on the shoulders of an eight-year-old girl. grace blinks, looks at costa. that's exactly what she needed to hear.
can we please forget about him?
we haven't done anything. that's about to change. grace stands, pulls him off the couch. begins undressing him. she finds horrible dog-bite scars.
in college we tried to make my friend's german shepherd take a bong hit.
let them watch. grace looking deep into costa's eyes. nods her head. costa flips her onto her stomach.
mmmmm. morning. he sees the blood. doesn't really react.
my stitches must have ripped. grace hands him a towel. presses it against his shoulder.
you better take a shower.
is that going to hold? i'm not coming back. grace enters, in a serious mood.
what's wrong?
washington, dc has some of the best art in the world. georgetown would be a great place to open a gallery. grace realizes what he's saying. smiles.
grace, i'm john. okay? i'm john. costa hoping against hope everything is okay. but it's not okay. grace has a calamitous expression.
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