the buttons
off your blouse one by one,
then run my tongue down your neck
to your bare, gleaming breasts.
And then slowly... slowly pull
your jeans off inch by inch.
Ginger, it's Matt.
And lick your belly in circles
further and further down,
and then pull your panties off
with my teeth.
Who is this?
God. Sarah?
Jesus. I'm sorry.
I thought you were...
Can I talk to Ginger?
Sure.
It's the creep.
Hello?
First I'll rip the buttons off
your blouse one by one...
You fucking pigs. Wait till I get
my hands on you. Get off me.
Ed.
- What have you got?
- Dead girl.
- I can see that.
- Sarah Ann Connor, secretary, 35.
Shot six times at less than 10 feet.
Large caliber weapon.
You know, these work.
- What's this?
- Dead girl two.
Sent over from the Valley division
this afternoon.
Are you sure there's a point to all of this?
Look at the name, Ed.
Sarah Louise Connor. Is this right?
You're kidding.
The press is gonna be short-stroking it.
- A one-day pattern killer.
- I hate the weird ones.
So...
Better than mortal man deserves.
- Ginger, have you seen Pugsley?
- Not lately. Did you check messages?
I thought you did.
- Hi, Sarah, this is your mom...
- There you are, young man.
You mind your mother.
Hi, Sarah. Stan Morsky.
Something's come up.
Looks like I won't be able to make it
tonight. Just can't get out of it.
I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you.
Call you in a day or so. Bye.
That bum. So what if he has a Porsche?
He can't treat you like this.
It's Friday night, for Christ's sake.
I'll live.
I'll break his kneecaps.
Well, Pugsley still loves me.
Don't you, baby?
God. It's disgusting.
I'm gonna go to a movie, kiddo.
Have a good time.
- We will. You, too.
- OK.
Damn it, Matt.
Shit.
These killings occurred in the order
of their listings in the phone book.
- What can I tell you? No comment.
- But, Lieutenant...
That coffee's two hours cold.
I put a cigarette out in it.
- Did you reach the next girl yet?
- No. I got her answering machine.
- Send a unit.
- I sent a unit. There's no answer.
- The apartment manager's not in.
- Call her.
- I just called her.
- Call her again.
Give me a cigarette.
Hi, there. Fooled you.
You're talking to a machine.
But don't be shy. It's OK.
Machines need love, too, so talk to it...
Same shit.
I can hear it now. He's gonna be
called the goddamn Phone Book Killer.
I hate these press cases.
Especially the weird press cases.
- Where are you going?
- To make a statement.
Maybe make these jackals work for us.
If I can get on the tube by eleven o'clock,
maybe she'll call us.
Well, how do I look?
- Like shit, boss.
- Your mama.
This just in. Police have announced
the name of the victim
in the second of two murders
which took place today.
Incredibly, the names of the
two victims are virtually identical.
Two hours ago, 35-year-old Sarah Ann
Connor was pronounced dead...
- Can we change this?
- Sarah Louise...
Don't touch it.
Police are refusing to speculate on the
similarity between the shooting deaths
and no other connection between
the two victims has been established yet.
We'll have more on this
late-breaking story as it comes in.
- Hey, you got a phone?
- It's in the back.
Hey. Four-fifty.
You have reached the Los Angeles
Police emergency number.
All lines are busy. If you need a police car
sent out to you, stay on the line.
Go on. I'm gonna make a belt out of you.
Don't make me bust you up, man.
Hi, there. Fooled you.
You're talking to a machine.
But don't be shy. It's OK.
Machines need love, too.
So talk to it and Ginger, that's me,
or Sarah will get back to you.
Wait for the beep.
This is Sarah. Pick up if you're there.
I'm at this place on Pico Boulevard
called Tech Noir. I'm really scared.
I think