Tasty Mystery Baskets of Clips

Oh, Mr. Henderson, there's a message for you here somewhere. Oh, here it is.

But not so outrageous that I couldn't pay it...

Now, you all know me and Hutch. That's Hutch over there with Fat Rolly.

- What happened to the car? - Hey, Frankie, don't criticize.

- Got to dial 8 for an outside line. - Thank you.

...their names, are they Zane and Cannell?

Somebody's birthday?

Oh, here we are.

You think he's got the stuff up there?

Someone who envies me is attempting to frame me with your murder.

You shouldn't drink that crap. It rots your guts away.

Would either of you like anything to drink?

Thank you. Fine.

Trust me. I'll follow you.

And you all know we're cops. And we know you know.

Charges were dropped by guess who?

- Zebra Three, come in. - What do they want?

Come on, fellas, let me go, huh?

- You wouldn't...? - No, I'll follow you, Starsk.

It's Voltaire, 1744.

But you know damn well that if we testify against you in court tomorrow...

He didn't dial for an outside line.

I'll take the back.

The kid who stole the Torino. What about him?

That's what Fat Rolly didn't do.

By any actuarial projections, I won't make it to 65.

Not that she was a big book drudge, though...

Not nice, Joseph.

- Who is it? - Henderson. Let me in.

That blood's liable to throw that chemical balance off something fierce.

If he does, we can't prove it or get cause to get a warrant.

You promised you'd never work in our district while we were here.

Dispatch, you'd better say that again. Our radio's been acting up.