Mystic River | 2003

-What blood? -Let's start with the front seat.

What are you looking at him for?

Hey, you think I could get that Sprite, Sean?

Sure.

Oh, I get it.

You're the good cop.

How about a meatball sub while you're at it?

I ain't your bitch, Dave. Looks like you'll have to wait.

Yeah, but you're someone's bitch, aren't you, Sean?

The blood on your front seat, Dave. Answer the sergeant.

We got a chainlink fence in our back yard.

Me and my kid play Wiffle Ball every afternoon after school.

He's getting good, so most of the balls are on the other side of the fence.

So I climb it. Except I slip...

...slice myself where the links curl in, right here.

Bled like hell.

Ten minutes later, I gotta pick up Michael at school.

Probably was still bleeding when I got in the front seat.

What blood type are you?

B-negative.

Yeah? That's the match we got.

-Well, there you go. -Not quite.

Blood in the trunk of the car wasn't B-negative.

I don't know anything about any blood in the trunk.

No idea how half a pint of blood got in the trunk?

-None. -This is not the way you wanna go, Dave.

How will that look in court?

You not knowing how someone else's blood got in the trunk of your car?

Gonna look fine, I suppose. You filed the report.

What report?

The stolen-car report. The car wasn't in my possession last night.

So whatever the thieves used it for, you should find out...

...because it sounds like they were up to no good.

Things looking any better on the Sprite, Sean?

Well, you just got too fucking smart. The car is inadmissible.