Malloy, one other thing.
It's been bothering me a little bit.

I don't wanna spit
in the face of modern science...

and I don't wanna challenge
your authority or experience...

but I think it's time we take after this guy.
I knew this couldn't last. Jesus Christ.
What do we know about him?
He's good at breaking in and killing.

Why don't we get a couple
poor schlubs, like in the old days...

sit down at a file cabinet...
start pulling jackets on murders, assaults,
burglaries, prowlers, escaped lunatics?

How about escaped lunatics
with parking tickets?

My wife is going to be very upset
if this reasonable crap doesn't work.

- Your wife is going to be upset?
- Yes. Come on, give me a break.

All right, kiddo.
I'll call Capt. Blakely.
He'll recruit us some slubs.

- Not slubs. Schlubs!
- Whatever.

- Arthur Taylor?
- Yeah.

We'd like to ask you a few questions.
Do you mind if we come in?

- Do I have any what?
- Any enemies, Mr. Taylor.

- Do you have any enemies?
- Hell, yes, I got enemies.

I got hundreds of them,
probably even thousands.

I wouldn't even know where to begin.
- You want some prunes?
- No, thanks. Never touch them.

For a man your age,
they're very good for you.

Mr. Taylor, we don't wanna upset you...
but maybe there's somebody
you could stay with for a while.

- Are there people you could stay with?
- You mean broads?

How about family?
I'll bet they'd love to have you.

You know something? You're an asshole.
And you're full of shit.
And you're a bastard.
What the hell?
Now that we know each other,
I may as well throw up my hands.