Faulk ‘N Schette: Buddy Cops – Episode 117
They’re cops. They’re buddies. They’re buddy cops. This is their story.
Episode 117 – No Place Like Home
Bernadette: This is nice.
(Det. Ricky Faulk and his girlfriend Bernadette are enjoying a morning picnic in Central Park, as joggers pass by and a gaggle of hipsters nearby play Frolf…)
Bernadette: Maybe this whole suspension thing was a blessing in disguise. It’s given us a lot more time to spend together.
Faulk: I gotta go.
Bernadette: You know, you’re not the best listener.
Faulk: I’ve gotta get to the precinct. Internal Affairs is questioning Harry and I today.
Bernadette: Can it wait a bit?
Faulk: I’ve really gotta get over there. We’re already in the Chief’s doghouse as it is.
Bernadette: It’s just that I brought you out here this morning for a reason. I kinda have some big news.
Faulk: (starts picking up picnic items) Tell me while we walk. I’ll get the blanket.
Bernadette: Ricky, I’m pregnant.
Faulk: (hit in the head by a frisbee)
Hipster Frolfer: Frore, bro!
(Harry and Ricky are preparing for the interrogation out in front of the 47th…)
Schette: Alright, now as long as we’ve got our stories straight we should have no trouble. There were no survivors or witnesses, so really all that they might have against us is forensic evidence.
Faulk: Nothing to worry about there.
Schette: Right. So all we’ve gotta do is stay confident and stick to the script. No emotions, no nerves, nothing that will make the investigators curious. We’ve just gotta wipe our minds clean.
Faulk: Bernadette’s pregnant.
Schette: I just forgot everything before that sentence.
(In Interrogation Room A, Det. Harry Schette is being questioned by an Internal Affairs investigator…)
Investigator: What do you recall from the day in question?
Schette: My partner’s girlfriend is having a baby.
Investigator: That’s wonderful news; but it doesn’t really apply in this matter.
Schette: They’re not even married!
Investigator: If we can just get back to the case at hand.
Schette: Isn’t that a sin?
Investigator: That’s really more of a question of religion.
Schette: I don’t even know if Ricky goes to church.
Investigator: We’re getting a little off-topic here.
Schette: Three years with the guy, you think I’d know if he goes to church.
Investigator: I’m just going to go ahead and stop the tape.
Schette: He’s black. So probably Muslim or Baptist, right?
Investigator: Det. Schette!
(In Interrogation Room B, Det. Faulk is being questioned by another IA investigator…)
Faulk: We’re not even married!
Investigator: I just need you to run through the exact details of that day.
Faulk: I don’t even know if I wanna get married. I mean, the rest of my life with just one woman?
Investigator: And a baby.
Faulk: And a baby! A little tiny me running around.
Investigator: I understand it’s a difficult time for you, Detective. But we really need to focus.
Faulk: I don’t know if I’m ready to be a father.
Investigator: The day of the Afghani drug warehouse explosion?
Faulk: Having to change a diaper. All that poop and pee all over the place? I dunno.
Investigator: You’re an NYPD police detective. You see horrible grisly crimes everyday.
Faulk: Yeah, but…(leans in)…poop?
(Back in Interrogation Room A…)
Schette: Actually, I do remember him saying something about Presbyterians.
Investigator: (head in his hands) The Afghanis, Detective.
Schette: Although it might have been about how he hates Presbyterians. I wasn’t really listening.
Investigator: That seems to be a thing with you.
Schette: Hm? What’s that?
Investigator: If we can just get back to the matter at hand.
Schette: The matter at hand is that my partner is about to begin a family and I don’t know if he’s ready yet.
Investigator: No, Det. Schette. The matter at hand is that a five-story warehouse covering two city blocks and housing fourteen metric tons of black tar Afghani heroin went up in smoke and you and your partner were on the scene. What happened that day?
Schette: I dunno. Maybe somebody microwaved a potato.
Investigator: Why don’t we break for lunch.
(In Interrogation Room B…)
Faulk: And college! Do you know how much college is gonna cost eighteen years from now?
Investigator: Probably a lot. If we can just get back to the drug warehouse.
Faulk: Clothes, toys, bigger house, bigger car. This is starting to add up.
Investigator: I’m not gonna be getting anything useful out of you today, am I?
Faulk: Oh my God. We have to feed it, too!
(In the food court of the Haysbert Mall a block from the precinct, Harry and Ricky are discussing their interrogations…)
Schette: My guy’s a bit of a douche. Keeps wanting to talk about this Afghanistan thing. What’s your guy like?
Faulk: He’s alright. I don’t know. I couldn’t pay attention. All I could think about was that baby in Bernadette’s belly.
Schette: Yeah, you’re fucked.
(Ricky’s phone rings and Harry picks it up and glances at the screen…)
Schette: You know a Mr. Iceman?
Faulk: (grabs the phone) That’s The Iceman. The assassin?
Schette: (blank stare)
Faulk: You convinced him to shoot the Chief last week?
Schette: Oh, that The Iceman.
Faulk: How many The Icemen do you know?
Schette: Better answer it.
Faulk: Hey, Iceman.
Iceman: It’s The Iceman. I’m in Long Island. I’m about to take the shot.
Faulk: Oh, shit. I totally forgot about that.
Schette: Forgot about what?
Faulk: (hand over receiver) I sent The Iceman to kill Mr. Butler. Sort of a two birds with one stone type thing.
Schette: Nice thinkin’, Ricky!
Faulk: (to The Iceman) Wait, are you on the phone with me while you’re attempting to assassinate Butler?
Iceman: Yup. Here he is. I’m takin’ the shot.
Faulk: Why don’t you hang up the phone and focus?
Iceman: Ooh, I missed.
Faulk: You what?!
Schette: He what what? He what what!
Faulk: (hand over receiver) He missed!
Schette: Oh c’mon, The Iceman!
Iceman: Hoo boy, he looks pissed.
Faulk: I would imagine. Take another shot!
Iceman: No can do. Yuri’s comin’. Look, I’m gonna be honest with ya Faulk. I’m probably gonna give you guys up. I tend to buckle pretty hard under pressure.
Schette: What what?
Faulk: (hand over receiver) He’s gonna give us up to Butler.
Schette: Oh c’mon, The Iceman!
Iceman: Oop. Here’s Yuri.
Brgochev: Who this is?
Faulk: (hangs up)
Schette: Well, we’re screwed.
Faulk: Butler knows we sent an assassin for him.
Schette: Technically, you sent an assassin for him. I wasn’t consulted.
Faulk: He’s gonna come at us with everything he’s got.
Schette: Well, I s’pose we only have one choice.
Faulk: Stand and fight?
Schette: Nope. We gotta get the fuck outta New York.
(That evening, in Chief Red Tree’s office…)
Chief: Faulk and Schette, IA found nothing to incriminate you in the Afghani heroin drug smuggling warehouse case. You’re cleared.
Chief: But that’s all for naught. I just got the call from Commissioner Browski a moment ago. The 47th’s being shut down. We’ve become a financial liability.
Schette: What are we gonna do, Chief?
Chief: Oh, I’ll be fine. Probably just go back home to the reservation and sell dream catchers.
Schette: Such a cliche.
Faulk: What about us, Chief? I got a kid on the way!
Chief: I know. I read the IA transcripts. Congratulations, Ricky. I put in transfer papers; but nobody in the NYPD wants to take you on, given your history. But I did get a call from someone out of state.
Schette: Oh, God. Not Jersey.
Chief: Nope. A little further.
(A week later, the Schettes and the Faulks are greeted at the arrivals terminal by an LAPD officer…)
Officer: Welcome to California, Detectives.
Schette: Cool, thanks. Hey, where do we get our medical marijuana cards?