Thank you.
- Thank you. - Sorry.
Oh. Captain Ross.
Hey, Tawny.
Yeah, I was just having a quick nightcap with the other girls.
They were wondering where you were.
Oh, you know. Off to get some ice.
I am just bushed.
Know how you feel.
Since we're both staying in, maybe we could stay together.
That's, um...
- a very nice offer, Tawny. - Mm.
I'm extremely flattered, but I'm also...
Oh.
You know the funny thing about these?
They come right off.
Sorry.
Mine doesn't come off.
Excuse me.
Back up!
Hope you haven't had breakfast yet.
Yeah?
Just did.
Poor guy over there, fishing with his son
when he spotted the body.
Fishing in the Hudson? You're shitting me.
Oh, my God. Jesus.
- ID? - Just this.
The Brownstone.
- It's a fruit stand over on... - Yeah, I know what it is.
Anything else? I don't see any visible wounds.
Besides the obvious one.
Neck was severed around the fourth cervical vertebra,
right through the vocal cords.
Well, at least we know what he was doing right before he died.
Yeah, Mulcahy? What was he doing?
Giving head.
The levels of multiplication
and mutation are more rapid than anything
- I've ever seen. - Mm.
And you're sure the samples were properly handled?
I went out to Fire Island
and collected and prepared them myself.
And the symptoms when they're displayed?
Seizures, skin infection,
liver failure.
You have to get out there,
talk to the mayor, chief of police.
At this level of mutation and multiplication,
we can have an epidemic on our hands in months.
What happened to it?
It has a virus, a new one.
I've been taking samples from deer carcasses
out on the island for over a year,
ever since the first buck died with similar symptoms.
We've definitely been finding more dead ones as of late.
One of my deputies found three dead together the other day.
Looked like a family.
Whatever this virus is, it's highly communicable,
and it could be mutating too quickly
for the deer's immune system to fight it.
If these deer here are isolated on an island,
then how the hell did they suddenly catch some new disease?
New diseases are born every day. That's science.
As scary as it may seem,
if we don't start mitigation efforts soon,
it's going to wipe out the entire population.
You're going to have to kill all the deer on this island.
And if we don't, they're all gonna die?
The deer are simply the first carriers of the virus.
And the way that it's mutating, it could leap to humans
if it hasn't already.
Then we're gonna have to arm up
and shoot down every deer on this island.
- What do you think? - Hard to tell.
Rats got to the head, and the body was deformed
- by the water. - Right.
Those cuts look pretty similar to me.
Could be, but I couldn't tell you if they were the same blade.
Well, come on. It's got to be.
You know, if this was the head and body of a pretty blonde
16-year-old from Riverdale, you'd have ten detectives
- down here on the case. - Hold up.
Someone stuffed it down in there pretty good.
Holy shit.
Was that the cause of death?
Or could somebody have stuffed that down there post-mortem?
Teeth are intact, which means
he probably didn't struggle when it was being put in.
Don't the homosexuals use colored handkerchiefs like this
to let others know what they're into?
Saw something about it on Donahue.
Thanks.
Where's Gino Barelli?
We want to lodge a formal complaint.
What do I look like, your hairdresser?
Ha! Your paper is here to serve the gay community,
but you're ignoring half of it.
Listen, if you want to apply for a job
or submit a freelance article
or an op-ed, please, be my guest.
Hey, lesbians have issues, too.
Why don't you ever write about women's health issues?
How the ERA is completely stalled out?
How we can't get access to health care...
Yeah. Write about that.
You know, I would really love to write about those issues,
but I'm a gay man, so I write about issues
that are important to gay men.
Oh, yeah? What are you writing about that's so important?
I'm writing about how gay men are being hunted
and killed in this town.
Wasn't us.
All right, ladies, it's time to go.
- Wait. This is a... Is this a threat? - No.
Sounds like you need something to protect yourself.
Is that you?
Something smells good.
Oh. Beef Bolognese.
How was your day?
Oh...
Really? I didn't know our mayor liked boys.
Homophobic Hall of Shame.
First annual issue.
You should thank me for not including you.
- Funny. - Seriously.
Your precinct has more complaints from the community
than any other precinct in Manhattan.
It's just a lot of old-school guys all in one place.
Keep defending them.
You should quit and do something else.
I don't know how to do anything else.
That's not exactly true.
What's the matter? You look tense.
We found another body.
By the piers. He was missing a head.
What the fuck?
Oh, Jesus, Patrick.
- That's three now. - Mm-hmm.
Is the department gonna hold a press conference?
- People need to know about this. - No.
And I am telling you this off the record.
I'm not supposed to talk about this with anyone.
I'm not "anyone".
I'm the guy you supposedly love.
I should be writing about...
Hell, the New York Times should be writing about it,
- and you should be helping. - I-I can't.
Gino, we have talked about this.
We have to keep our professional lives separate.
Oh, really? When it's life-and-death?
- Those are the rules? - Just think what you want to think.
But I am not going to jeopardize my career to be your source.
The fuck good are you?
What the fuck am I doing?
- What am I doing? - What are you talking about?
What the fuck am I doing with you?
Here in this sham of a relationship?
Hey, hey, hey, no. Don't say that.
It's not a sham, okay?
I did not go through everything
that I've gone through in my life
to go back into the closet for a guy
who does not want to be what he truly is.
Yeah, maybe, but I am very good in bed.
Gino...
I am doing the best I can.
Maybe that's just...
That's not enough.
We need you.
I need you.
Not like this.
Where are you going?
Somewhere.
- Anywhere where I'm not hiding. - Mm.
Or helping someone to hide.
Come on, Gino. Let's just...
Shit.
Mr. Ewing?
- Yeah. - Mr. Barnes made a very serious accusation.
He claims you pushed Miss Shepard off that balcony.
That man is a damn liar.
I saw him...
I was watching that.
Mm. Come on. Get yourself cleaned up.
You're coming out with me.
I don't want to go anywhere.
Fuck off, Sully.
You have been eating breakfast cereal and watching TV
for six days.
Adam, I could understand one day 'cause of his hot little accent,
but any longer is just you feeling sorry for yourself.
I was falling in love with him.
Bullshit. You were falling in love with falling in love.
Get off of me.
I really need you tonight.
I got to do some business,
and I don't want to go out there alone.
Are those drugs?
What's the hurry with selling ludes?
The price is skyrocketing, I really need the money,
and you really need some fresh air.
Fine.
Where are we going? What is this?
Only one of the best places in the world.
You're not here to sell those pills, are you?
Okay, so maybe I lied.
Had to get you off that couch, okay?
- This is dirty. - I'm doing you a favor.
It's giving me the creeps.
Well, I'm shaking, but it's not 'cause they're creeps.
Tell me you're not going anywhere with that guy.
Be cool. Groove with it.
- Hey. - Hey.
- What am I supposed to do? - Have fun.
Sully?
Come on, Sully.
Hey, man, I-I don't want any trouble.
Sully?
Adam? Sorry. That's my roommate.
- Adam? - Sully?
Adam?
Great. Just great.
Sully?
Okay, tell me again.
How was this tall individual dressed?
He was wearing a-a hood and all leather,
and, uh, he wasn't just tall.
- He was gigantic. - Okay.
Okay, but, uh, his dress...
by leather clothes, would you say he was a leather man?
Part of a gay, uh, leather subculture?
Like what you might find at places like, uh, uh,
The Backfill Club?
I don't know. I-I have... never been.
I haven't been anywhere like that.
You're gonna tell me you can't do anything, aren't you?
I knew this was a waste of time.
You don't give a shit about us.
Every day, we're getting beaten, and we are dying,
- and the police don't give a shit. - Cut the drama, okay?
If that were true, I would not have had
to chuck my shoes away because they were covered
in polluted river water.
So there was a body by the piers?
And you're looking into it.
Oh, I just bring it out to make a point, okay?
Some of us actually care.
And the reason I can't help you today is not
because your roommate's homosexual.
It's because he's only been missing 12 hours.
Plus, there is no evidence of a crime.
What about that scream in the park? That guy?
You heard a yell, and some leather guy followed you.
Go home. Wait for your roommate.
If he doesn't show up by Thursday,
you come back and see me.
I'll take a full report.
You just sent the guy away 'cause it's not
a missing persons case. What are we talking about?
Maybe we should look into it.
The body in the river, the two others last month?
I'm getting a very bad feeling in my gut.
Yeah, I get a bad feeling in my gut
every time I open the newspaper.
I'm worried we're seeing a pattern here, Chief.
Someone could be targeting the gay community.
Five people dead
is a Friday night in the Bronx, it's not a pattern.
Let me tell you something.
The people that make up that "community"?
They come to the city for a reason.
They come here to get lost, and that's exactly what they do.
Sounds like you've thought about this.
Yeah, it's 20 years' experience talking.
What?
What is it?
Yeah.
but I agree with the police.
Sully's a slut and a drug dealer.
He'll show up eventually, probably in jail.
I'm going to get a steam bath.
Find me when you're normal again.
Excuse me.
Do you know who that is in that photo?
No. I know who took it, though.
- Who? - Theo Graves.
Very talented.
Uh, does he have a studio?
Do you know where I can find it?
He's right over there.
Likes to make a splash, so to speak.
Um, can I close?
Excuse me.
Hey, I'm sorry. I'm not here looking for a...
No, no. No, no, no, no, no, no, no.
I couldn't help but, um,
overhear you talking about your friend.
You said that he disappeared into the park last night.
I'm sorry. I... I don't know you.
The police aren't going to help you.
Um, I'm Gino Barelli.
I write for The Native.
Here's where you find me.
Hi. I'm here to see Theo.
He asked me to come by.
I'm sure he did. He's just finishing up
with a session, but you can go in.
He likes an audience.
Uh, no, thanks.
Makes me shit my pants.
Right.
There you go. Beautiful.
Nice. Nice, nice.
All right.
Eyes up, eyes up.
Nice, nice. Hold it, hold it.
Beautiful. Beautiful. Excuse me, hold it, hold it, hold it.
Hold it. Nice.
All right, eyes here.
All right. You can collect your money
from Tanya on the way out.
Thanks.
Hi. I'm Adam.
I know. I saw you at the bathhouse.
I was hoping to talk to you about some of your photographs.
Ah.
My grandmother was a psychic.
You know, they called her a witch back in Haiti,
'cause she could see things no one else could see.
And she always said that I was her favorite in the family
because I'm the one she passed her powers on to.
See, um...
when I used to photograph a scrotum wrapped in chains,
other people saw something grotesque,
but I saw a bouquet, you know?
And you don't photograph that kind of thing anymore?
Oh, sometimes.
But, uh, truth is,
as soon as other people started seeing the beauty in it,
I just... wasn't as interested anymore.
Now I like photographing flowers and water drops.
Exposing the perverted
in what everyone else sees as beautiful.
Okay, go stand against this wall.
I'm not, uh...
I'm not here to be photographed.
If you want to ask me questions,
you have to let me shoot you while you do.
If not, you can get the fuck out.
Shirt off.
Nice.
Tell me something terrible.
I thought I was supposed to be asking you stuff.
We'll trade off.
My friend Sully is missing.
Missing could be terrible, but it could also be very boring.
Get on your knees.
Keep going.
I want to know about a model that you photographed.
Uh-huh.
Big guy, muscled, wearing a leather mask.
I saw him in one of the pictures you took at the bathhouse.
Hmm.
Oh.
Sounds like Big Daddy, or that's what we called him.
I don't know his real name, and I haven't seen him in years.
You can put your clothes back on.
Would you mind, uh,
calling me...
if you see this Big Daddy again
or hear anything about him?
I think he's hurting people.
Oh. I'll do my best to avoid him.
Who's that?
Did you get anything good of him?
Well, I didn't get him
squatting over a traffic cone, so...
nothing you'll think is worthwhile.
I am so sick of you acting like you're the artist,
and I'm some checkbook with a dick.
My eye for what's now and what collectors want
pays for all of this, and your little pad on Spring
and your cocaine habit.
Maybe you should date a pornographer instead, Sam.
Our clientele can't hang pornography on their walls
and invite the neighbors over to look at it,
so if they want a photo of an asshole in a public space,
they need to have paid $50,000 for it.
Don't worry, baby.
I'm still photographing boys and their toys.
Yeah, but your artist's heart isn't in it, and I see.
And I can convince the closeted stockbrokers
and the nouveau riche Hollywood executives
that the new work is as aesthetically true as the old,
but, eventually, they're gonna figure out that it isn't.
Something dark is coming.
Can't you feel it out there when you walk down the street?
You sound like your grandmother again.
Because I'm right.
Look, for now, I need to look away from it,
and use my eyes to see the obvious beauty,
or else the darkness is...
- It's gonna swallow me up. - Yeah, well,
we're not gonna let that happen, are we?
Hmm?
I've got a marvelous idea for a new series of photographs.
I'm in the process of setting it up.
You... will...
love it.
- Where are you going? - Out.
Okay, uh...
Wait.
Smoke the peace pipe?
So, uh...
So, look, I asked Marzara if I could leak a story
about this possible serial killer to a reporter,
and he told me if I did that, I'd end up in a morgue,
and he meant it.
If word got out that I did anything
to make the NYPD look bad, I'd be a dead man.
I'm not looking to break a big story, Pat.
Come on. This is about people dying.
Now, I am not gonna give you any more information
on this investigation,
but I would like
to ask you some questions.
Oh.
Okay.
What does a blue handkerchief mean?
Oh, God.
You boys who came out late are so...
charmingly naïve.
You really never heard of the handkerchief code?
Really?
Well...
we're not like the straights, where, when you go
to a pickup bar, everybody knows pretty much what you're into.
You stick it in, you move it around a little bit,
and you hope she's on the pill.
No.
Our tastes are more...
specific.
And we're not afraid to let people know
before our clothes come off, which is why
they invented the handkerchief code.
I've seen that. All those guys walking around
down on Christopher Street with the bandanas
hanging out their back pockets?
Huh.
Light blue in your right pocket
means you like to give head.
Left pocket means you like to get head.
Gray is for bondage.
Black is for S&M.
Yellow is f...
self-explanatory.
- Dark blue? - Anal.
Why?
Did one of the dead men have a blue one?
Oh, come on. Gino.
I'm asking the questions.
You ever been to The Brownstone Bar?
No, but I know where it is. Why? You want to go?
I'm not supposed to be actively investigating this case.
Right now, it's just a bunch of unrelated bodies
to the NYPD homicide unit.
But the, uh, reporter's not bound by those rules.
He can do whatever he wants.
Go to The Brownstone Bar.
Ask whatever questions you need.
Snoop.
There's hope for you yet.
Be safe.
- Hi. - Hey.
I'd give you a hug, but I have this summer cold,
and I don't know what the rules are between us.
I want to be respectful.
Well, there are no rules, Barb, we can still hug.
- We still love each other. - Okay.
I feel stupid even worrying about it,
but this is all just so weird for me.
I know. I'm sorry.
All right. Uh...
might as well get this over with.
Uh, have your lawyer mark those up
and then send it back to mine.
I, uh... I... Oh, thank you.
I, uh... I... Thanks.
I-I don't have... much, Barbara.
But you'll see when you look at those papers that I would do
my very best to make sure you're looked after.
Well, I already got a job... at Bloomingdale's.
- Ah. - Women's formal shoes, I guess.
Apparently, it's the place to be if you work on commission, so...
That's great, honey.
Honey?
Why couldn't you just have been honest with me
before we got married, Patrick?
I was a coward,
and I loved you.
I thought I could make it work.
Well, you and your secrets.
You are unknowable.
Oh. Thank you.
Huh.
Well, lucky me.
I'm looking at a time traveler.
A man from that bygone era
when courtship began innocently enough
with the purchase of a cocktail and a "hello".
Yeah, the good old days.
But, uh, I'm not here on the make.
I'm... I'm Gino Barelli.
- Oh. - I'm a reporter with The Native.
I was hoping to talk to you.
Why ask me for an interview?
Did that bartender whisper coquettishly in your ear
about my surrealism collection back at my brownstone?
My Finis are to die for,
the best in town.
No, the bartender neglected that fascinating fact.
But he did tell me that you were a, uh...
You're a regular here.
Oh.
Mm.
How can I help you, Lois Lane?
I'm working on story about a possible serial killer
trolling the bars and the piers targeting gay men.
And this story you're writing about lately...
do you think this is going to, what...
compel your readers to action?
Do you think the gay men of this city
are gonna change their ways and start protecting themselves
against the danger that you're writing about?
Well, from the sizes of the crowds
outside the bathhouses and the bars
and on the street corners,
- I would say "no". - Hmm.
I think this is a mistake.
There's a predator out there.
Well, how can there not be?
Predators thrive on decadence and excess.
You know, two doors down from this very spot,
there is a bar called "The Hole" where, 24 hours a day,
they employ, as an unpaid volunteer, a young man
for any and all to enjoy.
Now I enjoy a plump rump as well as the next man,
but how can the darkness not feel welcome
in an establishment like that?
I'm not looking for the darkness
as an idea.
I'm looking for... a man.
A man who kills.
I think he's been in this bar.
I've seen him.
Someone like him.
He usually comes in late, five minutes before closing
when all the unloved queens, too chubby or too...
sad or too messy have just about given up hope.
He rides in to bring the hope back to life.
What does he look like?
Honestly, by the time he comes in,
I'm already too deep to notice the...
specifics of a man.
Mm.
One thing I can tell you.
He seems drawn to the ones that like Mai tais.
And once he leaves with them,
I never see them again.
Can I use your name in the article?
So this killer can come after me next?
I'm in the phonebook, sweetheart.
No, thank you.
I understand.
- Thanks for your help. - Mm.
So I have to know that you're gonna do
whatever it is we ask you to do.
That you're not gonna get there and back out.
Because our time is very valuable.
How's your pain threshold?
I came to New York to be an actor.
I... I wouldn't want to do anything
that could affect my reputation, you know?
Do you know who I am?
Who Theo is?
The photos are for private sale
to high-net-worth men of immense power,
collectors of high art and beauty
and shock value.
Ruin your reputation?
Baby, I'm offering you your big break.
You okay, friend?
Thank you. I don't know what's going on with me.
Looks like maybe someone slipped something in that drink.
Something's not right.
It's okay. My car's right here.
Don't worry.
You're going to be all right.
Who are you?
All right.
I'm Freddy.
Sam told me to come?
Great. Hold that. Right there.
Nice.
And shirt off.
Phew.
Mm.
Oh.
Beautiful, Freddy. Hold that. Right there.
Nice.
Uh, no, wait. What are we... ? Are we shooting for Playgirl?
Or what, huh?
Or are we actually making something worthwhile?
Get naked, Freddy.
What, you don't want to be shot by Theo Graves?
Good boy.
I want to see the contact sheets as soon as you develop.
Some of those are going into my personal collection.
Hmm.
What? You don't approve?
Worse. I don't care.
Wait. Do you remember that really big leather guy
I photographed a few times a few years back?
Huge guy. Unforgettable.
"Big Daddy" was his name, I think?
Do you have any idea where he is, or what his real name was?
I think he's dead. That's what I heard, anyway.
I want to fuck. Do you want to fuck?
I got to fuck after that.
Go fuck yourself.
Here you go.
Look, you seem really cool,
but I'm not sure I'm...
really feeling like hooking up right now.
The Sully stuff is really freaking me out.
Right. I didn't ask you here to fuck.
I heard something about Big Daddy.
He died a couple years ago.
That's not possible. I'm sure the guy I saw was him.
He looks exactly like he did in your photograph.
Must be someone who looks like him?
I'm sorry.
Um, it's not that you're not fuckable,
because you totally are. It's just, uh,
I prefer something a little more anonymous.
I've got a boyfriend.
Hey.
You want to get a room?
Not tonight, thanks.
This isn't right.
I know for a fact you hunt, Deputy.
This isn't hunting.
No, but it's necessary.
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