Strangled!
Left outside the dumpster.
That's a new one.
Maybe the killer wanted her to be found.
Wait-- you actually think this is real?
Well look at her coloring, she is not dead.
With all due respect, Mandy, you're a fingerprint expert,
and this is kind of out of your league.
And I quote, "She is not only merely dead,
she is most sincerely dead."
I beg to differ, Dorothy.
If you knew your Wizard of Oz, you'd know
that it was the Munchkin coroner that pronounced her dead,
not the girl with the dog.
Slow night in here, kids?
You do know that everything
posted on this Web site's fake,
don't you? I mean, come on.
You guys are supposed to be professionals.
Exactly what I've been trying to tell them.
So, you made up your mind already?
You haven't thoroughly examined
the photo.
That's not very professional.
All right, zoom in on the hand.
Look there, by her knuckle.
Blood vessels are distended;
that means she has blood pressure.
Arms flexed, muscles are contracted.
She's alive.
It's a fake. Case closed.
Hand is below the level of her heart.
Blood's pooled in her extremity, distending the vessels.
It could be lividity, not blood pressure.
But how do you explain that flexed arm?
Body position puts pressure on the tendons,
pulling her arm into a slight flex.
I say she's dead.
Hard to tell without a body.
You're right.
And if this is real, then we have a DB off the strip.
Looks like it's, uh, west of the Tropicana.
We should go check it out.
I'm telling you, it's a waste of time.
Hundred bucks says I'm right.
I don't even think you have $100.
But let's go; I'll drive.
LVPD-- make a hole, people.
Oh, man, this just keeps getting better.
"She is most sincerely dead."
I suppose it would be tasteless
for me to mention the 100 bucks you owe me.
Extremely.
Any of you curious kittens think to call 911?
Huh?
Dispatch, Charlie
0-5 Stokes. I got a 419.
I need two backup units to my location.
Hey, man! Hey, hey!
Hey. Hey!
Hey, that's my camera. Come on, dude.
Yeah, well, now it's our evidence.
And this is our crime scene.
And you're a suspect. I want to see some I.D.
And that goes for the rest of you!
Nobody's leaving now!
You're all suspects!
I want to see some I.D.!
Come on, now.
Where you going, bud?
Show's just getting started.
♪ CSI 11x11 ♪ Man Up Original Air Date on January 6, 2011
== sync, corrected by elderman == == for www.addic7ed.com ==
♪ Who... are you? ♪
♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪
♪ Who... are you? ♪
♪ Who, who, who, who? ♪
♪ I really wanna know ♪
♪ Who... are you? ♪
♪ Oh-oh-oh ♪ ♪ Who... ♪
♪ Come on, tell me who are you, you, you ♪
♪ Are you! ♪
Look, Officer,
I just got off work at the diner.
You can call my boss.
He'll tell you I was there all night.
I came by 'cause I saw the picture on the Web site.
Nice little crime scene you got here.
So you called in
your own 419 off a Web posting?
I mean, I heard of firemen
setting fires to get overtime.
Don't tell me you're dropping bodies for extra cash.
Well, he does need 100 bucks.
T.O.D. was four to six hours ago.
Petechial hemorrhaging,
consistent with strangulation.
Yeah, the orange cord around her neck
was my first clue.
Yeah. Looks like a lanyard.
Something was attached to it--
an I.D. badge or... security pass.
Could be a robbery.
Little black dress, stilettos--
she could be a tourist.
Or working girl.
Either way, she should have stuck to the Strip.
I mean, you know, out here-- isolated lot, at night--
this place is bad news.
Victim is Amber Rowe.
Priors for solicitation and possession.
Well, C.O.D.'s asphyxiation due to strangulation.
I did a wet mount.
She had intercourse shortly before death.
Lots of swimmers.
And I thought hookers enforced the raincoat rule.
Anyway, she died around 1:00 a.m.
Most hookers hit the streets
between 11:00 and midnight.
Maybe those swimmers were from
her first and last trick of the night.
Well, I sent the rape kit to DNA.
You mind if I use your laptop for a second?
Open a new window.
I'm in the middle of an auction--
Robert Johnson 78s.
What's up, Nicky?
This is a photo from the Web site.
Take a look at the position
of the lanyard.
It's tight around the bottom of her neck-- here.
But the ligature mark on the body's different.
It's higher, at an angle.
This is not a match.
The killer dumped the body, Nick.
The lanyard could've changed position.
Could be any number of explanations.
I don't know.
The dress in the photo is different, too.
Excuse me?
They're not the same.
There's sequins along the neckline of the dress.
Take a look at the dress she was found in.
Yeah, right here.
No sequins.
Same location...
and I know this is the same girl.
The photo shows a different dress, different ligature.
Well, how's that happen?
So I contacted the Web hosts
from VictimsOfVegas.com.
They sent over the metadata for the uploaded photo.
According to the data, the picture of your dead hooker
was taken at 12:23 a.m.
two nights ago.
But she died around 1:00 a.m.-- this morning.
So the photo was taken
at least 24 hours before she died.
Your metadata must be wrong.
No, no, I don't think so.
You really can't stand to lose a bet, can you?
Are you in on this?
Wait. Don't look at me.
Data's data.
Zoom in on that hubcap, Archie.
Fireworks?!
Yep. Over the Tangiers.
Every Wednesday night from midnight to 12:30.
This photo was taken
two nights ago, Greg, and she was alive.
I think you owe the man 100 bucks.
So what are we saying?
A killer fakes a photo
of a dead hooker in a Dumpster
24 hours before he kills her for real?
That's insane.
No.
No, you know what's really insane?
Betting against me.
Let's go, baby.
Thanks a lot, Archie.
Didn't hear you ride up.
Thought you said it was just running rough.
Yeah, it was until about a half mile ago
when it died in front of a high school...
full of youngsters who need to be taught
that this is proper motorcycle attire
and not fodder for ridicule.
I thought you said this bike was all original.
That's what the guy at the swap meet told me.
You bought a vintage bike at a swap meet?
Is that bad?
Tell me you got the name and number of the guy
that sold this bike to you.
Well, he had honest eyes and a firm handshake.
Your headlight, your tank-- that's real.
Your taillight's retro,
your seat's retro...
You got some...
sloppy welding here at the exhaust.
This, uh, rearview mirror is certainly not original.
So I got suckered.
Yes, you did.
My bike's a Frankenstein monster.
Yes, Igor.
But listen...
maybe we can get it running again for me.
You been working on the bike, David?
No. Why?
Well...
...there's blood on your air filter.
Oh!
Think I may have found your problem.
Ooh!
- What is that? - That is tissue.
- See the ridge detail? - Yeah.
And the partial nail? Judging from the width,
I'd say this was the tip of someone's thumb.
All I wanted to buy was a sweet ride.
Well, it looks like you bought yourself a crime scene.
Yeah, you're right.
- You know, I've been defrauded. - And "bethumbed."
Yeah, I'm going to get to the bottom of this!
You wanted to be in the field more.
Follow the evidence.
I talked to this vice cop I know.
He said that Amber Rowe was a regular,
but that she cleaned her act up.
She got out of the business about six months ago.
Guess not.
LVPD!
Open up!
Can I help you?
Yeah, we're looking for
Amber Rowe's apartment. Who are you?
I'm her boyfriend.
She, uh...
promised me she wasn't going to do it anymore.
Do you know if she had a pimp?
Obviously she was...
pretty good at hiding that stuff from me.
So, she must have been
getting calls from dates,
all hours of the day and night.
How'd she hide that?
She told me that she was modeling, you know?
That things were going really well for her.
So let me get this straight.
Your model girlfriend doesn't come home last night,
and you don't start to think there might be something wrong?
She called me last night, all right?--
just after midnight--
and told me that she was out with some of her friends.
She'd see me in the morning.
It's Vegas.
And what's your first name again?
Craig.
And, uh...
what is it that you do for a living, Craig?
I do a little consulting.
In your pajamas?
In the middle of the day?
Hey, you know, I, uh...
don't see much, uh, consulting going on.
Hey, I don't let my girlfriend support me,
if that's what you think.
All right, look.
I mean, I think, deep down...
I knew.
You know? But I couldn't stop her.
For Amber, hooking was...
was like a drug, you know?
Nah, I just, uh, I don't know.
I don't know, I guess she stayed with me 'cause...
I made her feel safe.
Tell you what, why don't you put on some clothes
and have a cup of coffee with the officer outside
while we take a look around here for a little bit?
I mean, you don't mind, do you?
You got nothing to hide.
No.
♪ ♪
I examined
that little black dress that Nick and I found
in Amber Rowe's apartment.
Oh, the one she was wearing when she wasn't dead?
Yeah, found hairs--
Equus burchelli, otherwise known as zebra--
confined to the butt area of the dress.
So, what, she was sitting on a zebra?
More likely zebra-skin seats.
I thought
zebra seats went out with disco.
Well, actually, they're making a comeback,
starting about three hours ago.
Now, a buddy in Patrol sent this to me.
It's not an official police photo,
but it's been making the rounds.
That's Carrot Top.
He went missing the other night.
Kidnapped for a few hours.
Looks like he was found.
Zoom in on his wrists.
That's the same type of lanyard used to strangle Amber Rowe.
Sure is.
Carrot Top and a dead hooker.
Why am I not laughing?
So what's the deal, Captain?
The sheriff told my manager everything was cool.
I said I wouldn't press any charges.
Well, now we know why.
The other night got a little wilder than your story
about how some crazed fans kidnapped you, got you drunk,
and hog-tied you in the back of a limo.
Well, when you're a celebrity--
icon, you know-- things are a little nutty.
Sometimes you're a target, you know?
There's a lot of crazy people out here.
Icon. My face is on a room key.
Dude, I kill in Vegas-- look at that.
That's what we want to talk to you about.
You seen her before?
Looks like you knew her.
I did know her.
She was alive when I knew her-- she was hot.
When I say that, I mean, like, in a live way.
She was, she was definitely alive when I saw her last.
And how did you two get together?
I had a show the other night
and, uh, I wanted to blow off a little steam,
so I got a limo, just in case
things turned out better than they normally do.
"Carrot Top's Wild Ride."
How'd it start?
It started at a, uh, strip club.
I know, shocker, right?
It's called Crazy Ponies.
It was great 'cause some of my fans were there,
and so, that's good, 'cause they buy you drinks
and everything else, so...
And this girl--
was, was she the "everything else"?
She was the "everything else," yeah.
I remember her high-beams.
Very attractive.
Oh, man! Couple guys there, too.
I don't remember them as well.
After that, it was lights out.
Next thing I know, I see a bunch of cops laughing at me,
and I wasn't telling any jokes,
so we kind of wanted to keep it on the lowdown, you know,
'cause I have a reputation.
You probably know that, though.
Hog-tied... Yep.
in your boxer shorts, passed out on zebra skin.
That's kind of an image you can't get out of your head.
It's an image we'd all like to get out of our heads.
Thanks for bringing it up.
So these guys that were in the limo--
can you describe them for me?
Uh, my eyes were more on the girl.
Uh, they were two
preppy guys, and they asked for, for passes,
and they were nice, so I gave 'em
a couple backstage passes, and they used them
to, uh, tie me up.
Well, you're lucky you didn't end up like Amber.
- To think the Topper was in danger. - Yeah.
It's a shame only the good die young, isn't it?
I get, like, one phone call, don't I?
You don't need a lawyer, Topper.
I know, I need my publicist.
♪ ♪
What do you think-- cheap jewelry?
Well, looks like it's from some sort of costume.
Could be from a previous rental.
So do you think you have to request zebra-skin seats,
or did Carrot Top just get lucky?
Ran DNA on the thumb and blood
we found on my motorcycle air filter.
The blood and the thumb were from two different contributors?
Mm-hmm. Ran both through CODIS,
ran the thumb through AFIS.
There were no hits on the thumb, but the blood came back
to an unidentified male victim in a bus accident.
A month ago, Highway 19,
head-on collision between two buses.
Both drivers were killed.
Now, the blood wasn't a match to either one of the drivers,
but the unknown male was thought
to be a passenger on one of the buses.
I don't think so.
You're thinking the unknown male wasn't on the bus.
He was on your bike?
I think the body was vaporized.
It's possible, isn't it? Well, there's
no mention of a motorcycle in this accident report.
Nor in any of the news reports,
but that doesn't mean my bike wasn't there.
Doesn't it?
Oh, come on, surely you've heard this story.
It's been around for decades.
No.
Family in a VW Beetle are crushed between two semis.
Nobody realizes this until they pry the semis apart
and there's the VW, accordioned,
with the family entombed inside it.
That sounds like an urban myth to me.
Yeah, more like a fairy tale
compared to what must have happened that dark night
on that lonely stretch of two-lane terror.
It says here it happened during the day.
Oh. Also says...
the wreckage was hauled away by Mars Brothers Salvage.
You might want to check that out.
If you're looking for tickets for a show,
I could call in a favor, but... Thanks.
Actually, I'm looking for these.
Found them in the limo.
Trace says the chain is silicon-bronze plated
and the emerald is tourmaline.
It's costume jewelry.
Emphasis being on costume.
Bring up the Mediterranean.
I already checked.
The showroom's dark.
No, not the showroom, the casino.
And click on the photo gallery.
Okay, now pull up
that photo of the Spartan in the Agora.
The what? The mall.
I helped Sam pick out those costumes
when I was a little girl.
I loved Kirk Douglas in Spartacus.
I loved his skirt, his himation.
I take it that's Greek?
It's the cloak.
That and the skirt were my idea.
All I'm saying is that your trace
is from a Greek.
Spartacus was in that limo.
Two nights ago, I was on a bathroom break.
Can't be easy in that getup.
Well, it's not so much the skirt
as it is the armor and weaponry.
Right up here.
Scene of the crime.
I go to the gym, work out.
Like to think I can handle myself,
but these guys caught me at a strategic disadvantage.
"Guys"-- so there was more than one?
Well, it would take at least two.
I mean, I didn't actually see 'em.
Here we are.
All right, well, tell me what happened.
Sat my gear down on the floor like I always do, took a seat.
I grabbed onto the door, but they hit me with it.
Bastard took my sword, cloak, shield and helmet.
I mean, took me half a week's pay to replace them.
Why would anyone want that stuff?
I mean, what guy's gonna dress
like a Spartan if he doesn't have to?
Well, I can think of about 300.
Excuse me.
I think I found your barbarians.
I don't know what to tell you, boys.
We just haul the wrecks away
and sell off any good parts we can salvage.
Do you recall a head-on collision between two buses
on Highway 19 last month?
Oh, yeah.
Hell of a mess. Whew!
Pretty nasty cleanup, too.
Well, do you still have the buses here?
Oh, boy.
You know, my brother Denny's in charge of inventory.
Denny!
What?
Hey, where are them two buses from that demo derby on 19?
They're over in row nine.
Man, he's good.
He's got one of them photogenic memories.
Clearly.
Mind if I take a look?
No-- anything for the police.
Hey, just remember me next time I get a ticket.
Huh? Will do. Yeah.
Yeah, I, too, am blessed with a photogenic memory.
You're good here.
I'm gonna get to work.
All right. Right down that way.
This row right here.
Just holler if you need a hand, partner.
♪ ♪
Oh, no. How embarrassing!
You are so busted!
Cyber-schmooze on your own time there, Arch.
Yeah, we're in the middle of a case here.
So am I.
In fact, when you were
on your bathroom break with the Spartan,
I traced the photo of the living hooker
back to a social networking site.
Oh, yeah? Did you get us a name? No.
But I got three prepaid cell phone users
all sharing photos on the site, anonymously.
See, there's Carrot Top... And Amber.
Number three: "Kidnap a celebrity"?
Check out number two.
"Steal from a casino."
And number one?
"Grand theft auto."
And all these photos were posted
on the same night--
the night before your hooker was actually murdered.
Including this photo, that ended up on VictimsOfVegas.
Number four: "Kill a hooker."
Okay, three cell phones, so three suspects--
this is like some kind of twisted bucket list.
The night starts with stealing a car, ends in murder.
Except it didn't-- they only went through with
the first three things on the list.
And they didn't kill the hooker.
At least not until the following night.
All right, so, maybe on the first night,
the creeps got cold feet.
And then, the next night,
they decided to complete their list before heading home.
Let's just hope the list ends here.
The part I pulled from the bus at the junkyard
was definitely from a Triumph motorcycle.
- Sounds like you found out where the parts for your Frankenstein bike came from. - Mm-hmm.
Serial number traced back to a bike owned by a Peter Farmer.
Last known address: 214 Harlan Way.
Yeah, it's an apartment. I talked to the landlord.
Farmer's ex-girlfriend still lives there. You bringing her in?
She's on her way to PD. Great.
- Care to join me? - Why not?
I can't believe it.
Are you sure, he's smashed between two busses?
We're sorry for your loss.
Uh, when was the last time you... saw Peter?
The day he left.
I felt bad; I-I made him lunch.
Curry egg salad.
I love that.
On toast points.
I remember his last words.
"We'll always have Comic Con."
You were very close.
I loved him.
But... he couldn't commit.
He never loved me the way he loved his mother.
That's why I ended it.
It's my fault.
I'm the reason he was on that motorcycle.
Why do you say that?
After I broke up with Peter, he was... lost,
adrift, searching.
Uh-huh.
He bought the bike.
Bought a whole outfit.
He looked just like Marlon Brando in The Wild One.
Except thinner.
He wanted to...
hit the open road
and... find himself.
I know.
May I ask you something?
Okay.
Was there... anything he could have said,
was there... something he could have done
that would have convinced you to give him one more chance?
Um...
I've asked myself that same question over and over.
And?
There is one thing.
What? Oh.
It's my boyfriend.
Uh, he's got a big race today-- triathlete.
I, uh, I gotta go.
Thank you for...
for telling me about Peter.
You remind me so much of him.
Thank you.
Mm.
Uh, can I ask you something?
Yes. What is it?
How far did he get?
The Grand Canyon? Glacier Park? Nova Scotia?
Highway 19, near the 12 junction.
A quarter mile.
Huh.
Archie got the numbers from the prepaid cells
that shared the bucket list photos
on the social networking site.
Mm-hmm. Area codes are all 312.
Chicago.
Oh. Even a life of rooting for the Cubs
is no excuse for this behavior.
So we know where the guys are from,
we just don't know who they are.
I might be able to help with that.
The prints on the men's door
that clocked that Spartan came back to a Scott Horan.
Arrested ten years ago for trespassing.
He tried to mount Caesar's chariot
and race it down the Strip.
What?!
I love this town.
Looks like our chariot-jacker's from Chicago.
Let's see what he's doing now.
Scott Horan-- still living in the Windy City.
32 years old.
Guy's got a Maybach and a Bentley
registered to him.
Boy's got dough.
You know how boys
tire of their toys.
But if he considers this playtime,
we need to end it.
I'll have Brass trap Horan's credit cards.
So, hotel security spotted Scott Horan
in a long checkout line.
We pulled his credit cards receipts.
We found out that he bought three plane tickets
and three rooms.
The other names are Hunter Ahern and Jeff Blakely.
That must be our other two suspects. Exactamente.
Larry, Curly and Moe.
Las Vegas Police. You're under arrest.
We-We didn't do anything. Ow.
What the hell'd you do, Scott? Dude, you dime us out?
No, hey, look... hey, this isn't what you think.
Big misunderstanding. Huge!
Seriously, I can explain!
Look, we didn't do anything.
Really, Hunter?
Who's lying, you or the pictures?
We were just playing a game.
Felony murder's not a game.
Golf is a game.
We came to Vegas to celebrate
our ten-year college reunion. Oh, yeah?
Is killing a hooker how you celebrate?
Uh, these pictures are fake.
My buddies, Jeff and Hunter, they were messing with me,
and I fell for it-- at least at first--
but, uh, no, these are a joke at my expense.
A joke?
That young lady's dead. This ain't no joke.
I'm, uh, I'm telling you that these are not real pictures.
She's not dead.
You can ask her. She'll tell you.
Well, she already told me from the autopsy table.
She's really dead?
As dead as it gets.
That's why you're here, Scott.
If Jeff and Hunter killed her
and you know something,
well, you better talk to me or you're going down with them.
Look, it was my idea to come to Vegas.
The last time we were here,
we did all these things on a dare.
Yeah, yeah, like, uh, steal Caesar's chariot
and ride down the Strip.
I was a kid. It was a dumb thing to do.
I got busted.
And I still had the dare list from ten years ago.
And I thought it would be fun to do it again.
This is so lame, dude.
I can't believe we did this.
Nah, it just needs a little work.
Hunter's a magazine editor.
It's his job to edit and spice things up.
That's what he did.
A game?!
Grand theft auto?
Stealing from a casino?
Kidnapping? Murder?
What do you get when you win this game?
Nothing.
Well, I mean, everything.
A free weekend in Vegas-- loser pays.
In this case, Scott.
He picked up the tab for all of you.
As smart as Scott is,
it never ceases to amaze me how easy it is to mess with him.
I mean, the guy's a loser.
He's always been a loser.
But he's our loser.
Even when we were kids.
Back then, his dad was loaded.
Then Scott struck it rich
a couple years ago with this software app.
So what are you saying-- this whole thing was just a setup
for your loser pal to pay for your weekend?
And have a little fun at his expense.
It was going great
until we had a little rules dispute.
Scott was pissed.
Said we cheated because we teamed up,
instead of playing on our own.
You rolled a greeter in a men's room, and you call this
stealing from a casino? I'm sorry.
You're an embarrassment.
It's just sad.
I was following the rules.
Yeah, and before that, you tipped a valet
so you could drive some jerk's Ferrari around the block.
We frickin' kidnapped Carrot Top!
Give it up, Poindexter.
Your friends won.
Scott said he was through with the game,
but we told him there was one more dare left on the list.
"Kill a hooker."
No. We just made it look like we did.
Ready? Okay.
Really. Get down.
Put your arm right over-- aw, that's perfect.
Okay.
We paid Amber to lure Carrot Top,
so we figured, for a few bucks more, she'd play dead.
I mean, hell, she even thought it was funny.
And then you sent the photo to your buddy Scott.
Bet he freaked out.
Understatement.
Here's what I don't understand.
Why'd you go back the next night and kill Amber?
You already won.
We didn't kill her.
Well, at least... well, at least, I didn't kill her.
Well, somebody did.
And then they posted your fake photo on some Web site
for psychologically disturbed individuals.
I swear I don't know anything about that.
The only thing we did with that photo was e-mail it to Scott.
Are you sure about that?
Because you and your buddies were the only ones
who had the photo.
Oh, no.
Amber.
Amber?!
She wanted a copy.
I e-mailed the photo to her.
I told Hunter not to give it to her.
Chick said she wanted to show her boyfriend.
Said it was the easiest two grand she ever made.
Her boyfriend?
Does he have a name?
I think it was... Greg or Craig.
Something like that.
Where did you drop Amber off?
Where we met her.
At the hotel bar.
Yeah, I know this guy. He's at the tables
every single night.
You know what he is? He's a cheap bastard.
Win or lose, the guy never tips.
Seen him lately? Yeah, that's his usual table.
Let's go. You've been killing me all night, Ty. Let's go!
Good luck. Yeah-- 18. I'll take it.
Is this how you mourn the loss of your girlfriend?
Not now. All right, guys? I'm working.
No, you're all done.
You're all done, Cool Hand.
You're coming with me. Let's go downtown.
Downtown? Yeah.
I don't think so, okay?
I'm doubling down here. It's a big hand.
You're doubling down?
Color him out.
My chips!
I got this. Don't worry about it.
This is from Amber.
Take it all.
Hey, Denny.
Is your brother around?
Hey, Doyle!
Your buddy's back.
Hey, Crime Lab Man!
Nice bike.
Oh, you think so?
Want to ask you about a refund.
Refund?
I didn't sell it to you.
No, but you sold the parts
to the guy who made this Frankenstein.
Which means that you knew that this motorcycle
and its dead rider were involved in that bus wreck,
and you didn't report it.
That's evidence tampering.
Come on now, hoss.
I'm just trying to make a living here, man.
If I sell a few extra parts on the side, what's the harm?
The man's already dead.
Well, thanks to you, nobody knew that.
Well...
I'm sure we can work something out.
What kind of refund would make you look the other way?
It's not going to cost you any money.
No, but it'll cost you six months in County.
You're both under arrest
for obstruction of justice.
I got to know.
How'd you figure it out?
I followed the evidence.
Where you saw some scrap and some quick cash, I saw a man
who needed to be spoken for.
Your brother's the one who gave me the tip.
You got this.
What about your bike?
Oh, keep it.
It's evidence.
I'm done with the open road.
You got nothing.
These are Amber's bank records.
You cleaned her out after she died. Yeah.
Well, what's hers is mine, okay?
That's love, buddy.
No, sir. This here is motive.
Now, the staff at the Luxor tells me
that you drop a couple of g's there every other day.
Is that why you forced your girlfriend
to start hooking again?
Hey, I did not force her, okay?
She did it on her own.
She wanted to do it, you know?
Hey, what do they say--
"once a whore, always a whore."
Wow.
Wow, you know, you're a real gentleman.
Thank you.
I think she wanted to leave you, but you wouldn't let her.
She showed you that phony photo of her own death.
You just took it as an opportunity to really kill her.
You could just pin it on one of those Chi Town flunkies.
Am I right?
No. No.
Listen to me. Amber-- she loved me, okay?
Everything she did, she did it for me.
You know, on the night she died, she called me, okay?
Earlier in the night. She said
she came into some green, some cash-- five grand and...
I had kind of a rough night at the tables that night, so...
What was I gonna do?
She said she'd put it in my account.
Hey, call the Luxor, okay?
I was there, all night long-- losing.
Five grand, huh?
How many tricks did she have to turn
to make that kind of money?
One.
Guy's little head was doing all the thinking for him.
You know, he even told her
he would give her another five g's
after he was done.
Idiot.
And who was this guy?
He's one of those guys-- Chi Town flunkies.
Hey...
how did she get you that much cash
in the middle of the night?
You ever hear of an ATM?
They scan cash now.
Bank traced Amber's $5,000
deposit to this ATM.
And if one of our Chicago boys gave her the money,
his prints may still be on it.
The last cash deposit was for $1,200.
$1,200.
Cash deposit for $1,500.
Another cash deposit for $280.
That's $5,000.
♪ ♪
We found your prints
on the cash you gave Amber Rowe.
Right before you killed her.
What happened?
Tired of being the loser?
Tired of being the brunt of your friends' jokes?
Check your e-mail.
Told you, bro.
Game's over when we say it's over.
You lose. Again.
You... You killed the girl for a bet?
Man up.
You got bills to pay.
By the way, we drained the minibar.
I thought they really did it.
I wanted to call the cops a hundred times, but I was scared.
The minute I make that call, my life
is over.
Whether I killed her or not, I'm a part of it.
Tried to drink it all away.
Or maybe tried to get up the courage
to do the right thing.
And then she walked in.
You're friends with the guys.
Yup. Uh, you know, I, uh...
I fell for it.
Come on, you can't be that stupid.
She told me she was in on the whole thing.
When I told her that I really thought
she was dead...
she just started laughing.
She said she couldn't believe that I was so stupid.
I could take that from the guys, but not from some whore.
That's when I figured it out.
A way to wipe the smiles off all their faces.
I offered her ten grand for another photo shoot.
In all those years...
I know it's sick, but... it felt so good...
...to one-up them.
After I killed Amber, I uploaded
the staged photo-- their photo-- to that Vegas Web site,
and I killed their hooker.
On the plane home, I was going to tell them
that I did it, but they were on the hook for it.
I won.
I was finally the one calling the shots.
I was The Man.
And-And what's that like, being The Man?
So your friends are gonna go to jail for misdemeanor.
You're going to go to prison for murder one.
I guess that's a win.
Mm.
There you go.
What are you doing?
You won the bet.
No.
No, all bets are off.
Nobody wins here.
== sync, corrected by elderman == == for www.addic7ed.com ==