- These orders are from the minister of Industry, Trade and Commerce.
- I see they're classified, Sir. - Yes. Well, no.
I have my own stamp. - Yeah.
- Canada's sweetheart needs protecting.
- They feel her life may be in danger while she's in Chicago?
- Danger! Like those pencil-necked geeks would know danger
if it jumped up and pierced their spleen with an ice pick.
I know danger.
I live danger. - Indeed you do, Sir.
- We will not be part of any... [whirring]
What is that noise?
...part of any publicity circus.
My command here in Chicago
has been characterized by one word... dignity.
- Hello, Sir... I was just freshening up the Regal suite.
- You are not a char lady, Turnbull, you are a member
[doorbell] of the Royal Canadian...
- Ooo, ooo, it's them, it's them.
[sighing]
- Good afternoon, and welcome...
- It's clear. Bring her in.
Earl Jeffers... I head up security.
- My name is Constable Benton Fraser,
Royal Canadian Mounted Police. l...
- You came looking for the guy that killed your father.
I've seen your file. - I see.
Good afternoon, and welcome to the...
- Oh, ho, it's Tracy.
...Canadian consulate,
- This was faxed to the hotel last night from somewhere in Chicago.
- "If I can't have you, no one will."
- It's a death threat? - Possibly.
- Did you check the number? - The Cyber-grind,
an Internet computer joint. - Oh, over on Madison.
- That's the one. Any creep could have sent it.
You should keep your head down.
- George, look... - Tracy, I agree with Earl.
We got some wacko out here on the loose.
- Look, I'm playing The Music Hall. End of discussion.
- You're a star.
- The problem is he won't book me in a small club.
He's always booking me in front of 50 or 60,000...
Not a paying customer
can get close enough to even see if it's me.
I just, I can't see their faces, George.
Music is about getting closer to the people.
- Well, indeed it is, but I think, in this case,
Mr. Monroe's advice is prudent.
This letter demonstrates all the characteristics
of an obsessive compulsive disorder, coupled with delusional symptoms
and an escalating pathological desire.
- Back home, we don't trust a man who talks too much.
- Where I'm from, we don't trust a man who leaves home
without a knife, compass and some beef jerky.
What time are you scheduled
to arrive at the club? - 8:30.
[clamouring]
[cheering]
- Here she comes, here she comes.
[screaming]
- Across the street!
- MacAfferty.
- Ahh...
They said the vest was just a formality, Vecchio.
- You okay?
- Ohh, my shoulder hurts like hell.
- Gun fired. Officer down, officer down!
- I can't believe this bullet was meant for me.
- Yeah, for you. - And the officer?
- They're keeping her overnight in hospital. She'll be okay.
- What's her name? I don't even know what her name is.
- MaCafferty. Officer MaCafferty.
- And this was found at the scene.
- We send those out to fans by the thousands.
- Dewey, take this stuff down to forensics.
I want a full report by 9:00. - You got it.
- I'm sorry, George. I should have listened to you.
- How is she? - Tracy?
- Yeah, we're, we're tight.
- So she's... - She's good.
- I knew it. She's a fighter.
- Tracy Jenkins, wow. - Yeah.
- Wow? What, you like her music?
- Duh... Yeah, I love her music.
- How can you like country music? - Oh...
Ms. Vecchio, the mournful longings,
the lament for a better life.
Some ethnomusicologists refer to country music
as the white man's blues.
- Blues? - Sure... Look at me.
- Country music is nothing but pick-up trucks, trains
and donkeys, okay?
- Donkeys... right, okay, why don't you name
one song with donkeys in it?
- Pff, please, there's millions.
- Oh, yeah? Name one.
[imitating buzzer]
- We'll continue on the fan stalker angle.
You have a list of the fan club, the Chicago branch,
maybe we might get lucky. - Got the data base in my laptop.
- What about fan mail? - The actual letters?
They're in Nashville at the office. - How soon can you get them here?
- Tomorrow morning. - Good.
- All right, for your own safety,
don't go back to your hotel till we get this guy off the street.
- Sir, I think Ms. Jenkins will be safe
and comfortable at the Canadian consulate.
And she's obviously very welcome.
If you'll excuse me for one minute.
- Yee-hee-hee! - What the hell was that?
- The sound of a grown man
squealing in a manner not becoming
a member of the Royal Canadian Mounted Police.
- Oh, Turnbull.
- Donkey Kong Angels.
- That's Honky Tonk Angels.
Kitty Wells... I don't think she was singing
about video games back in the '50s.
- You can't go in there. - Yeah? Just watch me.
- Look, I said, you just...
- Is there a problem? - Yes.
- Why don't you take a 20, sweetheart, all right?
I'm looking for my wife.
Baby. - That's far enough, Dwight.
- It's okay.
- I got to hear this on the radio?
You can't call me?
- There's lots of bars between here and Tennessee.
Guess I didn't know which to call.
- Oh, that's cold, baby.
Because you know if anything ever happened to you...
- Listen, get him to the hotel. Would you do that?
Then we'll deal with him later.
- What? Wait a minute. What, what? You're going to deal with me?
Who wrote the tune, huh?
- That's enough, Dwight. - Who wrote the damn tune?!
- That's enough! You're going home!
- What happened to gratitude, huh?
- Drop it, Dwight. Come on.
[doorbell ringing]
- Ah, welcome.
In honour of your stature as the queen of country music,
I have prepared the Regal suite.
And, oh, um, also, on behalf of your privacy,
I intercepted a number of messages.
A man named Sid called about,
uh, oh, I don't know... I sent him packing.
Uh, a reporter looking for an interview.
I also sent him packing.
And a very curious conversation with a man named
"The Coast"...something about a movie thingy.
- Uh, Turnbull?
Ms. Jenkins has had a very full day.
- Say no more, Sir. This calls for something calming.
Some Saskatoon berry tea.
- I'm sorry, he's, uh...
Well, shall we?
Your life sounds very busy.
- Well, George has a motto, you know.
Busy's bigger, bigger's better.
I think he's got it tattooed somewhere, actually.
I love George, but I wonder what happened to the simple things.
- I often ask myself the same question.
- Thanks for tonight. - Oh, it was nothing.
You saved my life, Fraser, thank you.
- You, uh...
...my cheek.
[barking]
Right, uh...
It's 16 stairs here to the landing.
Follow me, please.
- All right, everybody, listen up.
I have a medical update on officer MaCafferty.
She sustained some muscle damage to her right arm,
but she's going to be just fine.
- Uh, they checked out the Cyber-grind cafe and nothing.
Mind you, those space cadets couldn't ID Monica Lewinsky
if she was interning for them.
- Keep up the hard work. Let me know if Monica shows up.
- Uh, Frannie, what did you get?
- Pff, listen to this.
From Russia.
"Dear Tracy, you have been an eyesore to us
these past three months in our sensory canal.
We flatter you, O courageous queen.
I Can Love Again is for us, the gate key
to leave Siberia and become super models."
Signed Olga and Vaselina.
- Vaselina, super models,
they got a return address on there?
- Why are you cheapening this?
Listen to what they're saying. That song gave them hope.
- Yeah, like you hope there's no donkey in a country song.
- 50 bucks. - You're on.
- You know, letter writing
can sometimes be something of an art.
- Yeah, and some are just plain creepy.
- Mmm. - You know what?
You know what we should do?
- What? - We should write one.
- Write what? A letter?
- No. A country song. How hard can it be?
- Yeah... it could be fun, huh?
We could cut a CD. - Watch it go platinum.
- Or we could make some real money.
Write some jingles and have the song used in a commercial.
- I'm not going to allow my music to be prostituted like that.
I'm not going to compromise my principles.
- Please, you don't have any music,
or principles.
- Now, this group is harmless,
this group is threatening to some degree,
and... thank you, Dief...
This pile, Diefenbaker found to be particularly offensive.
- Hey, check this one out.
Guy here sends a stack of lottery tickets,
so that she can bless them.
- Why not send them to the pope? - He can't carry
a tune in a bucket... Who's the freaks?
- Well, we got a wide assortment,
but it seems the most dedicated one is a Mr. Carver Dunn.
- Oh, he's a home-town boy. - Look at this.
Over 114 letters written over
a three-month period,
all of them ending with, "Your one true love."
- Hang on a second. You got a copy of that fax?
- Mm-hmm, is there a connection?
- Uh, same lingo. Run them, Frannie.
- Lingo is, uh,
well, it's a tenuous connection, Ray.
- Tenuous? Look.
"If I can't have you, no one will."
- Yes, but Ray, these letters, I mean,
apart from being a testament to the sad and lonely absurdity
of man's cruel fate, are relatively benign;
whereas this fax is a virtual torrent of mental illness.
- Look at this... Carver Dunn, disturbing the peace,
loitering.
- Who gets busted for loitering? - Fruitcakes.
- Uh-huh.
- He's got a restraining order against him.
- Forbidding him to go within 100 yards of Linda Lawless... singer.
Well, it would appear
that perhaps I was, uh... - Wrong.
- And that maybe we should, uh...
- Pick him up. - Pick him up.
- I'm a wacko. Who'd give a wacko a permit?
- State of Florida seems to have a loose approach to gun ownership.
- You ever been to Florida? - Once, to see Mickey.
- Did he give you a gun?
- He's a mouse, Mister, I was 6. Where's my lawyer?
- How about we give him a paraffin test?
See if he fired a weapon recently. - Won't work, Ray... peroxide.
- I dyed my mother's hair. That's not a crime.
- In the state of Illinois, yes, it is, pal...
It's a crime to be your mother's hairdresser.
- I'm not a hairdresser, I'm a stylist.
- "If I can't have you, no one will." Did you write this?
- There's a fan club. You're asked to write. That's not a crime.
- A police officer was shot. Attempted murder. That is a crime.
- Vecchio! Mr. Dunn has lawyered up.
- Oh, well, very, very sorry. Terrible, terrible mistake.
Let's go. You're free to go.
Thanks a lot for coming. Bye-bye.
Your parking will be validated at the door. Thank you.
- You're letting him go?
He's written a million letters, tried to put a bullet in her,
and you're letting him go.
- I'll have two of my best men parked outside his house, but now,
we have nothing that places him at the scene of the shooting.
Unless we have some solid evidence
we can take to the state's attorney's office,
there's not much more we can do. - Until she's dead.
Is that what you're saying? [mumbling]
Cops.
- It's called I Won't Be Home For Supper
Because They're A-gonna Hang Me Tonight.
It's a story song that blends
the world of horticulture with the world of bank robbery.
- Tracy, you ready?
- Excuse me, but this is a non-smoking environment.
- This is a cigar. We got a half hour to the session.
- I can sing it in a heartbeat. - Band's set to go.
- I could do it in double time. - All right, guys.
- Tracy... - Listen, he's a songwriter.
You never know where my next hit record's going to come from.
Go on to the car, I'll be right out.
- You da boss.
- So, Constable, how many verses in this song of yours?
- Oh.
21... and a half.
She's a fallen angel
She's just flesh and bone
She's the rock of ages
She's a rolling stone
She's nobody's girl
She walks this road alone
Nobody's girl
- Just a touch flat on that, Arlene.
Let's take another run at it.
- Any sign of Carver yet?
[Huey]: No, nothing yet. - Call if he sticks his head out.
Don't call me for supper If you don't mean to feed me
Don't tell me you love me With that gun in your hand
What do you think of that?
- I don't know. What does it mean?
Is he going to shoot her or what?
- How would I know? - You wrote it.
- It's a song. It's not supposed to mean anything.
- 'course it does. It's a song. That's the point of songwriting.
It's supposed to have significance.
She's nobody's girl
She walks this road alone
Nobody's girl
- Still a little flat on that one.
- I'm sorry. I can get the note. - Question is, when?
500 an hour, I'm not sure I want to know the answer.
- George, the Mike was still on.
- How 'bout we take five, everybody?
- Five? Great.
That's another 41.66.
I know she's not great, but...
- I've heard worse.
- Worse, you've killed a pig with your bare hands?
- George, there's no call to be so mean. Do you mind, guys?
- Dief.
- I thought she was pretty good. - Good as in attractive?
- I don't care.
- Look, her name is Arlene Williams.
From the band that opened for us in Minneapolis.
Remember they had a regional hit? - Look, I hire the talent, Dwight.
Always have, always will.
- Oh, well, hey, God forbid that the great Tracy Jenkins
would need anybody else's help.
- Hey, what you doing there, son?
- Well, it just occurred to me that if the song were moved up
A minor third, it might ease the tempo and release the vocal.
- And that just occurred to you? Yes, Sir.
- Dwight, this girl may have a talent.
Since it doesn't seem to be singing,
maybe you'd tell me what her talent is.
- How cold is that heart of yours, baby?
How hard would it be
to allow me to contribute every now and then?
- Contribute? Contribute?
Your contribution turns out to be a girl
who couldn't hold a tune with handcuffs.
- Am I talking to you, huh? Do I ever talk to you?
- The issue's dead, guys. Arlene quit.
- Nice work, George.
Good management there, buddy.
Why don't you go out there and see if you can't
lose the rest of the band while you're on a roll?
Nobody's girl
She knows she's on
Her own in this world
- You sing. - Me? Sing? No.
No, no, no...
No... well, when I was a child, and we...
Church choirs... if we were within sledding distance.
- That minor third idea, that's a great idea. Get him a mike.
- Boys, we're going to try a little something here.
It's a little bit country, and it's a little bit rock and roll.
- Oh, no, no, no. I mean, I-I-I...
- Kind of a high maintenance job, huh?
Running security for...
artistes.
- Ha, yeah, well, it's better than my last job.
Worked homicide 10 years... Memphis P.D.
- Mmm. Memphis.
You ever meet Elvis?
- Yep, couple days ago.
He's a nice guy.
Bit Tubby.
- Tubby.
- Ms. Vecchio.
- Turnbull. - I got your message.
- You could have just called me back.
- Well, you said it was important, and it's only 97 blocks.
- Listen, um, you're kind of a country music expert, right?
- I am a buff, yes.
A devotee, possibly aficionado, but an expert,
Ha, ha, you flatter me. - Okay, whatever, listen,
I got 50 bucks riding on this.
Do you know of any songs about donkeys?
- I'll certainly put my mind to it.
- Great. Thanks.
- Uh, oh, if you'll do me the favour of allowing me
to convince you of the depth and resonance of country music.
- Well, I'm kind of busy right now.
- Uh, well, perhaps, um, during your lunch,
maybe we could have a beverage.
Uh, non-alcoholic, caffeine free, sugarless.
- Y-you mean, like a date?
- A date? Uh, a date. Uh, wow.
Ha, ha, a date. Um...
Possibly, perhaps.
- Um... I-I-I just can't leave the building,
and I'm kind of working through lunch.
- Say no more.
She's a fallen angel
She's just flesh and bone
She's the rock of ages
She's a rolling stone
She's nobody's girl
She walks this road alone
Nobody's girl
She calls her soul her own
Nobody's girl
She knows she's on her own In this world
She's nobody's girl
- That man has the rhythm of a stick.
Come on, Fraser.
Do something... move.
She's some kind of saint
And if her hands are dirty
- You said you couldn't leave the building,
and I have a friend who lives nearby,
so I borrowed his kitchen to whip you up...
[speaking Italian]
- So, is this like a prerequisite for being a Mountie?
You just have to be completely nutty.
I mean, I was just thinking of a hot dog from a street vendor.
- Oh, no, no, the fecal matter count is far too high,
far too high.
Do you like poetry, Ms. Vecchio?
- Poetry?
Yeah, yeah, I like poetry.
"We are the hollow men.
We are...
...the fulfilled guys.
Yeah, I love poetry. - Oh, I'm glad.
I'm so very glad,
because you see, country music is the poetry of the people.
Unaffected, heartfelt.
It has great strength and beauty.
And if you love the tender muscle of the English language,
you have to love a man for simply saying,
"You are always on my mind."
- I am always on your mind?
- I know of a mule.
- You do?
- Different from a donkey,
genetically speaking,
but metaphorically very agreeable.
Walter Brennan, That Mule Old River's In Me.
- I was always on your mind?
- Must be the uniform. - Isn't that so adorable?
- You should sign this guy up. - I just might.
- You looked good, I mean damn good.
- Thank you, Mr. Muddy. - Yeah, keep rockin'.
- Excuse me. - Forensics got a partial print,
nothing usable... You seen Earl? - No, I was...
- Moving like a block of wood. - I'm sorry.
- Singing like a bird. - Really?
- I didn't tell you what kind of bird.
- Anyone seen Tracy?
Do you mind if I talk to you
Do you mind if I speak Do you mind if I speak
I would like to be Frank Your cooking is wretched
- This coffee's rank.
- Perfect. This coffee
- No, no, this coffee is rank.
- Who cares? It rhymes. [telephone ringing]
- Yeah?
- Watch it! Do not let him move out of the house.
We may have lost her.
I say "may have lost her."
[whimpering]
- We have lost her.
[music]
[men hooting]
First you
Want it slow
Then you want it fast
You know that I give you whatever you ask
Now baby you got me
Wherever you want me...
- Did you get the underpants? - Stockings.
- You said underpants. - I said stockings.
- You wouldn't be forgetting about those
racketeering charges in Memphis now,
would you, Mister?
- I was in Yellow Springs once, Ohio,
sitting across the table from a guy kind of like you.
A little diddler.
It didn't take much.
Two hands, short move.
Both his eyeballs were hanging out of his sockets.
- What are you trying to say?
- Check the statute of limitations.
As of tomorrow, I'm off the hook.
- Oh, well, maybe your boss would like to know tonight.
- See, this is how it works.
You put your thumbs here.
Then you pop the eyes like you're opening a can of beer.
I see your eyes swinging on your cheeks.
All you see is your boots.
- Will there be anything else?
- Just the cheque, please.
[hooting]
They fit him like a perfect...
Baby are you strange...
[screaming] [glass breaking]
- Well, I was working the floor alone
on account of Doreen had some kind of foot fungus thing,
which is typical, and there was the normal bunch of creeps...
And, oh, we had a special party.
It was a stag for a guy named Smith,
and then the dead guy who ordered for one.
"Double bacon, double cheese,
double mayo." That's not healthy. - Better than a bullet.
- Does this time code here indicate
the time he paid? - No, that's the time I rang it in.
The guy died before he paid me, which is typical.
So now I'm out 8.99.
He didn't have any loose bills on him, did he?
- No, but I'd be happy to take care of that.
- Oh, is this Canadian? - Yes, it is.
- Better make it a hundred. - Ray.
- You were writing a song?
The prime suspect in the shooting of a police officer
eluded surveillance because you were writing a song?
We'll revisit this momentarily.
Do we have anything that places Carver at the scene of the crime?
Is there evidence that anybody
was at the crime scene? - There were 23 other men
at the club... Unfortunately their attention
was largely diverted by a number of women
who were performing what I'm told is a form of modern dance.
- The waitress figured that the, um,
dead guy was waiting for someone.
- That would be Carver Dunn,
who miraculously slipped through our usually
vice-like police dragnet and managed
to get to club at 3:35. - Sir, according to the reports,
everybody who knew the deceased had opportunity.
- Including Tracy Jenkins.
- Who also miraculously slipped through
our usually vice-like police dragnet. - Yes, Sir, but we had...
or rather, I had become momentarily blinded
by the bright lights of the music business.
- Is that so? - Yes, Sir.
- And you?
- You know my eyes, Sir.
But we're working on another angle.
- Good, good, good, that's encouraging.
How about you guys? You got anything?
- Actually, we're pretty close.
- Yes, Sir. "There's a house we call love
built next door to hate.
And both of them got lawns with a white picket gate.
Their taxes don't differ and their water's the same."
For one more line, we got that chorus.
- Right.
- Oh, you meant in terms of police work.
I see, ahem, okay.
- Yo, Ray, this guy, Mr. Brown Smith Jones
dropped this off for you. - Thank you kindly.
- Ha, what losers. This stag party really sucks.
- Here it is, top of the frame.
- He was expecting someone.
- Couple more seconds, we would have had it.
- We may still have it.
There's your man. - Pick him up.
- Now, sweetheart, I want you to get some sleep.
First thing in the morning,
we'll try and patch things up with Dwight.
The man loves you in his own way, and as crazy
as he makes me, he did write the tune.
He's always been part of the team.
- But, George, what about Earl? Wasn't he part of the team?
- Yes, darling, he was.
And what happened to him is a sad, sad thing.
If I sound casual about it, believe me,
I don't feel casual.
And that's why you running off like you did today
scares me half to death. - I feel I'm living in a fish bowl,
and it's driving me crazy. - I know, I know,
and that's why I'm going to look at all the bookings.
I'm going to find you some breathing room.
In the meantime, you stay here, stay safe, stay put.
Let the Mountie look after you.
I'll call you first thing in the morning.
Get some sleep.
- Hi. I hope this isn't too forward.
I was just having some trouble sleeping
and I heard your guitar. - Oh, no, no, no, please.
To be entirely truthful, I was having difficulty sleeping also.
- Entirely truthful, well, that's a concept.
Would you like a drink?
- Oh, no, thank you, I don't drink...
Unless it's the obligatory toast to the Queen's health.
- So you don't lie
and you don't drink. - No.
- You're a rare specimen,
Constable.
- I shouldn't think so. You know not all men are...
- Like my husband Dwight?
You know, underneath it all, he's a good man.
He wrote my first hit song, Scaredy Cat.
We never called it by the title, though.
We've always just called it "The Tune."
But I'm grateful for that song.
- How did you get started singing?
- 16 years old, the first time I stepped foot on stage.
Flin Flon, Manitoba.
There was about 20 people in the audience,
but I knew right then what I was going to do with my life.
It just seems so far away now.
It's gotten so complicated.
Were you at the Stratenger building today?
- I'm divorcing Dwight.
My lawyers are there. How did you know?
- Pine needle.
They have a magnificent northern pine in the lobby.
I often go there if I'm homesick.
- So do you have a home up north? - Mm-hmm.
Yeah, well, it's a cabin actually.
Well, lean-to really.
- Well, maybe I could see it sometime.
- That would be nice.
Let's see what Mr. Dunn has in his knapsack.
- Tracy Jenkins poster.
Tracy Jenkins tape.
Pair of silk stockings.
I don't even want to know.
And two unopened Tracy Jenkins CDs.
- Hmm.
Excuse me.
We got a piece of tape
that puts you in the bar.
- There were a lot of other people in that bar, Mister.
- We searched your room.
We found this in your closet. Newspaper clippings.
It seems the deceased had some trouble with the law.
You blackmailed him, which he tired of, forcing you to kill him.
- I didn't kill him.
- You didn't? - No, he didn't, Ray.
- Come on, Fraser, I'm really laying on the lumber here.
- I realize that, and I apologize, but he is telling the truth.
He's innocent.
- Yes, sometimes he'd bring me stuff.
Stockings and stuff.
And sometimes he'd get 'em.
Except some stuff he couldn't get.
Like I really, really wanted a pair of her...
- Save it, mush mouth.
- Don't tell my mom, okay, Mister?
- Outside.
- Someone ought to check that guy's freezer.
- So if our clocks tally, our little extortionist
was at the other end of the street buying
a CD when the guy was killed.
- And the clocks do tally, Sir.
And the clerk identified him from a photograph.
- Dutch, set Carver free, please.
- So if the killer's not Carver, then it's got to be somebody who knew
Carver was going to meet Earl. - Not necessarily.
I mean the killer could have just followed Earl,
and then killed him when the first opportunity to do so presented itself.
- Someone tries to kill the star. Then somebody does kill
the star's bodyguard. Come on, Fraser. No connection?
The peroxide, the letters, the silk stockings...
The guy's a pervert.
- Well, I agree he's a pervert. He's also an extortionist.
But, Ray, I do not believe that Mr. Dunn
had anything to do with either shooting.
- Maybe someone's trying to frame him...
Let's look at the husband.
There's rumours of a divorce, right? If they get a divorce,
he gets nothing... That's a motive.
- Where does that leave Earl?
- Perhaps Earl was in on the murder plan.
Or perhaps he found out about it
and was using that to blackmail the wife.
Is that what you were thinking, more or less?
- Exactly what I was thinking. - Let's run Dwight on the computer.
- I already did... There's nothing unless he's got an alias.
- Dwight Jones! Or Dwight Parsons.
Changes his name after tracking his birth parents
to a trailer park in Louisiana, 1979.
- Okay, thanks.
- Meets Tracy Jenkins, March 4th, 1981, at the 16-acre lounge,
Nashville, Tennessee... She, a cocktail waitress;
he, a disc jockey with a criminal record
for fraud and assault.
- Okay, that's good. - Tracy is nothing if not loyal.
Her current manager, George Monroe,
was the former owner of the 16-acre lounge.
Her band leader, Muddy Johnson,
was the guitarist in residence.
- You can shut up now. - From her earliest days,
Tracy displayed a determination... - Okay, enough said.
- She played until her fingers bled.
That's just the kind of person she...
- Miss Jenkins!
Uh, Miss Jenkins, it's Constable Turnbull.
Woo-woo!
Miss Jenkins, Miss Jenkins.
Uh, uh, oh, dear, Music Hall, Music Hall...
Constable Fraser, constable Fraser... Constable Fraser.
Their taxes don't differ
No, they don't.
And their water's the same
But in one you get comfort
And in the other ashamed
Yeeha! Ooh, can we cook.
- Somebody call up Wilkins and Howard
and Summerling, and sign this act up.
- Excuse me, Wilkins and Howard and Summerling,
aren't they in the Stratenger building?
- On Michigan Avenue, yup.
- I thought they were divorce lawyers.
- No, nothing that tawdry. These guys are talent managers.
High-powered, low-key. Remember the unplugged fad?
That was them, they created it.
They're taking on some of the biggest acts in the business.
- That's right. - Like Tracy Jenkins.
- Turnbull's got his pumpkin pants in a knot.
Tracy's going to make that date at The Music Hall tonight.
- Excuse me, boys.
That Old Mule River's In Me.
Walter Brennan.
50 bucks, cough it up.
[imitating buzzer]
- Excuse me, Mr. Muddy.
- Sorry, I'm late for a rehearsal.
I got to go, man.
- Check, check two, one, two.
I need a bit more monitor.
Okay, check two, two, two, one, two.
Where the hell is Muddy? - Ooh, 16 acres, boys.
Boy, I'll tell you, that was a bad dive on the bad side
of a bad street. Nobody had a dime back then.
We'd all go down to the A&P grocery store
and shoplift some baloney and crackers.
Play a couple of songs for free beer.
Life was good.
Tracy was just a kid back then, man.
We was all crazy about Tracy, man, especially old George.
- Was George involved with Tracy?
- Yeah, 'cept she didn't know it.
Tracy had a thing going on with Dwight.
Old George hung in there anyway.
And when the 16 acres burned, he took the insurance money
and produced her first album.
He'd have done anything for Tracy. - Including commit arson?
- Well, you know, that was a long time ago
and nobody's sure, but, you know, one thing is
the bar burned
and George got the cash, Tracy got an album,
and I got a real good job.
[laughing] - What did Dwight get?
- Bitter.
Gotta go, man, gotta go.
Yeah, I'm sitting in this traffic jam
And smiling anyway
Every time you come around
Funny, where I'm standing, boy, it looks like rain
But it's someone else's cloud
Excuse me if I laugh out loud
I just get this way every time
You come around
Every time you come around
Stay
No need to leave me
Won't you hang around
- Where's Tracy?
- Ohh!
- George, George.
There's nowhere to go.
The building is surrounded with police officers.
- I was going to care of her. It's all over.
I gave up everything I had for her and she was
just going to throw me away.
- I'd have taken care of you.
- Turn me into a loser like Dwight?
I don't need you to take
care of me... I had big plans for us.
- George, now you're going to kill me?
- Kill you? Tracy...
I love you.
She's a fallen angel
She's just flesh and bone
She's the rock of ages
She's a rolling stone
She's nobody's girl, she walks
This road alone
Nobody's girl
She calls her soul
Her own
Nobody's girl
She knows she's on her own In this world
She's nobody's girl
- Great, uh? - Exhilarating.
She's some kind of saint
And if her hands are dirty
Well, her spirit aches
She's nobody's girl
She walks this road alone
She calls nobody's girl
Her soul her own
She knows she's on her own in this world
She's nobody's girl
- I just can't wear hats. I don't have a hat face.
- It has to be "Huey and Dewey." - Oh, yeah? Why?
- 'cause all the great acts have two names.
- Like who? - Laurel and Hardy,
Abbott and Costello, Milt and Berle.
Knows the world don't claim you
It don't own you, too
She don't belong to me now, no
She don't belong to you
She's nobody's girl
She walks this road alone
Nobody's girl
She calls her soul her own
- I'm sorry I shot you, Mister. - You didn't shoot me.
- Oh, that's right.
She's nobody's girl
She walks this road alone
Nobody's girl
She calls her soul her own
Nobody's girl
She knows she's on her own In this world
She's nobody's girl
- I don't know. Then everything just got worse.
I mean, I lost my pick-up.
My mama died.
Had a hernia operation.
You going to drink that?
She's nobody's girl
[knocking]
- Come in.
- Hey. - Ah.
- Bus is all set to go here.
I just, uh, thought I'd come in
and say that I'm sorry you got tangled up in this.
You know, money, it's got this way
of making people see things funny, you know?
- Indeed.
You know, it's been reported that when colonel Tom Parker
heard that Elvis had died, the first words out
of his mouth were "This changes nothing; double production."
- Yeah, it can be an ugly business.
- Are you two going to be all right?
- Yeah, sure.
She needs me.
Catch you down the line, buddy.
- Well, this is it.
I came to say goodbye, to say thank you for everything.
- No, I should thank you for letting me sing.
It was very... stirring.
- Stirring? I didn't know you could be stirred.
- I can, I... I can be stirred.
- Well, then, uh, maybe I could interest you
in seeing America through the window of a tour bus.
- I'd love to, but... I'm afraid
that I have... obligations.
- Another woman. I thought so.
I'll never forget you, Fraser.
- The things I do for you.
High winds northern sky
Will carry you away
You know you have to leave here
You wish that you could stay
There's four directions on this map
But you're only going one way
Due South that's the way I'm going
Due South
Saddle up my travelling shoes I'm bound to walk away these blues
Due South
Subtitling DVD by CNST, Montreal