Episode 46, originally published 10-Jun-97

Braking and Mentoring

Phyllis picks up the ringing phone in her living room. "Hello, Phyllis," says a familiar voice. "Tim!" she says, trying to fake a little cheer at hearing his voice. "I'm pleased you remember my name," he says. "I haven't heard much out of you since I loaned you that large amount of money." "$20,000," Phyllis says for the new viewers. Tim has not forgotten, "That's right. I'm under pressure to return that money from where I borrowed it, so I was wondering when I might--" "Oh, Tim, you'll get your money, don't worry about that." "That's good news, Phyllis. Shall I drop by or--" "Well, Tim, you WILL get the money--you'll get it--but not quite NOW is all. This isn't exactly a good time for me." "Well, when exactly will be a good time, Phyllis? I could just mark it down in my datebook." "Tim, I--" "Phyllis, I deal with evasive answers every hour of every working day. I know the symptoms. There isn't going to be a good time, is there Phyllis?" "Now, Tim, I--next Wednesday," she blurts out suddenly for now apparent reason. "Next Wednesday? My money will be returned next Wednesday?" "Yes. Now, see? There's nothing to worry about." Tim looks skeptically at the phone, and Phyllis knows it, but neither says anything. "Very well. I'll put you down for lunch next Wednesday, Phyllis." "I'm looking forward to it," Phyllis lies, as she hangs up.

Phyllis paces her living room. "Next Wednesday. Nothing to worry about. I can have the money by next Wednesday. It's only $20,000. ONLY? Ohhh!!!" Joanie enters and looks around. "Mrs. Romalatti, is everything ok?" "No, Joanie, everything is NOT ok," she says in an irritated tone. "Is it still that thing about Sasha? I thought you said she died." "She did, but she took $20,000 to the grave with her." "$20,000? Wow, that's a lot of money--last time I asked for a raise, you told me you didn't have--" Phyllis stops her mid-sentence with a laser-beam like glare of pure irritation emitted from her eyes. "I'm going out, Joanie," Phyllis says, rushing out the door.

Malcolm opens his door to find Phyllis, who marches straight in. "Malcolm, you have to help me!" "Help you? I thought things were finally all peachy keen with you and your rock star man." "It's not Danny, it's Sasha!" "Sasha? Phyllis, you musta inhaled more of that hotel smoke than you said you did--how can little miss Cinderella be still on your case when she's been roasted to pumpkin pie?" "I paid her the money, Malcolm--the money I asked you for--" "Phyllis, if you on the level, then unless you paid her in coins, you' out a ton o' dough 'cuz they ain't nothing but charcoal left where Sasha's bed used t' be." "No, it's not so, Malcolm--I heard Paul and Cricket tell Danny there was a metal box recovered, and it has my money in it. Sasha doesn't need that money any more, but I do... and I need help to get it back." "So you came to me." "That's right." "'Cuz I'm black and you think I can help you?" "No, because you're the only man I know who doesn't think I'm a total nut." Malcolm thinks about this for a while and says, "I'm thinkin' maybe we'd be better off with the black thing for now. Anyway, I ain't that kind o' guy--I never did no stealin' ... but, hold on--I think I got me an idea..."

Dru enters Malcolm's without knocking. "Ok, I came as fast as I could, now what's the emergency--some problem between you and my sister?" she asks Malcolm, still oblivious to the presence of Phyllis in the room. "Whoa, slow down," Malcolm says. "Dru, this is my friend Phyllis Romalatti," Malcolm says. "Danny's wife?" Dru asks. Phyllis nods. "Anyway, she has a little problem," Malcolm says. "What kind o' little problem?" Dru asks suspiciously. "The police have $20,000 that belongs to me--it was in a metal box where that motel fire was last week." "And you' worried they're going to figure out the money is yours?" Dru asks. "More like worried that they won't figure out it's mine," Phyllis says. "I'm afraid I'll never get it back." "Where is it now?" "The police lab downtown," Phyllis says. "Well, I dunno why you're comin' to me," Dru says. "Because we know you used to be the world's foremost expert on breaking 'n' takin'" Malcolm pipes up. "Malcolm, that was a long time ago. I don't do that no more," "There's really $30,000 there, but I don't know who the rest belongs to. You could keep that yourself." Dru's ears perk up at the mention of the money. She says, "You know, the more you talk about your situation, the more I'm starting to empathize very deeply with your $15,000 loss..." "$20,000," Phyllis corrects her. Dru sighs.. "Ok, whatever," Dru says, resigning herself to only a one-third slice of the pie. "The police lab? Piece o' cake--we used to be in and out of there all the time."

It's late at night when a car pulls up at the downtown police lab. Phyllis is driving. She puts the lights out and all survey the lab across the street. Each of them is wearing gloves. Dru and Malcolm are dressed all in black. Phyllis stays in the car waiting, munching on popcorn from a box as she watches. Dru first peers in various windows, and seeing no motion inside, she moves to a particular window. "The lock on this one never used to work," she whispers to Malcolm. The window slides up easily and quietly, as she climbs in. Malcolm hands her a flashlight through the window and waits outside. As Dru probes around inside, Malcolm sees a patrol car coming down the road. He says "Pssst. Dru!" but she doesn't hear him. As the car moves closer, he moves between some cars so as not to be seen. The patrol car stops and one man gets out. The patrol car moves on, and the man moves to the front door and starts in. Just as he enters, Dru pops her head out with the box. "Hey!" she calls to Malcolm. "Get back over here." Malcolm takes the box and the flashlight just as the light comes on behind Dru. Malcolm rushes to the car and gets in. In one swift motion, Phyllis drops the box of popcorn out the window and starts the car.

Having called Flo's answering machine and found that Flo is out of town for the evening and won't be back until tomorrow, Ryan has found himself going out with Trish and then bringing her back to his apartment. "Good night, Pal," he says, kissing her on the forehead as she tries to sleep in her bed. She grabs his necktie and pulls him down toward the bed. "Oh, no, McNeil," she says. "You're not getting off that easy!" He laughs and pulls back. She grabs his shirt and pulls on it, until it has ripped. He falls on her and they scuffle for a while. There is much tearing of clothing and giggling. "All right, all right," Ryan says finally. "This is a lot of fun, but I'm pretty sure it's more than what pals are supposed to do." "Oh, right. Pals. Whose stupid idea was that anyway?" Trish asks. "Your stupid idea," Ryan says. "I'd be willing to talk about modifying the terms," she says. "Another time, I might be, too. But I think we'd better keep it slow. G'nite, ok?" She pouts, but nods. "Ok," she says with some obvious sadness.

Inside, Dru whirls around to see a policeman. Her costume is non-descript. He can see little other than the fact that she is a black woman. A mask over her eyes obscures her facial features, and a hood covers her ever-varying hair. "What are you doing here?" the man asks. Dru is momentarily petrified, then remembers her ballet. She whirls into a dizzying display of leaps and spins, finally knocking out the guard, who is completely confused by the disconcerting sight of a robber doing a ballet performance, with a kick to the jaw. As soon as he falls, she runs to the front door and out into the street, where Malcolm has turned the car around and all drive off.

It's morning--the clock says 8:30am. Ryan is asleep nearly nude on the couch, his shredded outfit beside him. Trish is at the top of the stairs, head on a pillow, spying on him as he sleeps, apparently fond of his muscular physique. We have no idea how long she's been there. Suddenly, there's a noise in the door and the lock clicks open. Trish takes her pillow and hurriedly rushes back out of sight as Ryan wakes and looks over the couch to see a man dressed in black enter carrying a bag. Trish is sure this is not the normal drill, so she rushes to a phone and calls 911. Meanwhile, Ryan watches quietly as the dark figure's eyes lock on his and Ryan is motioned forward, toward the man, who is now brandishing a knife. "What are you doing here," Ryan asks. "I might ask you the same question," a whispered voice says. "You don't belong here," Ryan says. "And you--you must be Ryan," the man says. "I heard your name on the phone message when the dame mentioned the house would be empty. That was a mistake Ryan." "So, you--you're a friend of Flo's?" "Nope," says the man. "It was just a wrong number--but I figured if she was gonna be out of town, I figured why not help myself. You're a complication, of course, but I've dealt with such complications before, Ryan."

A very handsomely bearded Dr. Tim Reid is with Nina. She has just finished reviewing her life story and he says to her "I don't know why you think you need a psychologist, Nina. You've had your troubles but you sound like you have a proper perspective on things. I think what you need isn't a psychologist, but a boyfriend." "You do?" Dr. Reid nods. "That is my professional advice. If you can't get Ryan back, it's time for you to start moving on. And who knows, maybe if Ryan sees you with another man, that's what it'll take to get him to realize he has to move or he'll lose his option with you." "Well, thanks, doc! I really appreciate that," she says, as she moves for the door. "I really appreciate your time," she says. "Don't mention it, Nina. That's what I'm here for," he says.

The next morning at Dru's house, Neil's reading the newspaper. "Look at this honey--you've got competition here in town. The was a robbery last night downtown by a black ballerina." "Was there now?" Dru says, looking at the picture, worried that it's of her. Relieved to find only a picture of the mugged police officer and a vague sketch of a shadowy figure doing ballet, she nods. "A robber? What's a robber doing breaking into a police station? Seems like a sure way to get caught." "Uh, huh," Neil says. "That's what I'd have said, too, but this one got away and with $30,000!" Dru whistles. "Honey, I never knew ballet could pay so good!"

Ryan and the masked man move back and forth warily giving the cameras plenty of time for closeups of Ryan's bulging muscles. But before Ryan and the masked man can come into physical contact, the door opens and several policemen rush in. Seeing Ryan's torn shirt and a few long scratches on his arms, the policeman checks whether Ryan needs medical attention. "Oh, no--not for this," Ryan explains, turning his eyes slightly to Trish who is descending the stairs wearing a similarly torn t-shirt. The policeman almost involuntarily whistles quietly. "I see," he says. "That must be the woman that called it in." Ryan nods, "Yeah, must be." Trish is at the bottom of the stairs now. "Are you ok, pal?" she asks Ryan. "I'm fine," he says, and they hug.

And at Phyllis's, Danny is just on his way to work. He kisses little Daniel's forehead. Suddenly, there's a knock at the door and Phyllis freezes up in fear. Danny opens the door and Paul and Cricket come lumbering in waving a copy of the morning paper. "Guys, this isn't a good time," Danny says--I was just on my way out. "This will just take a moment," Cricket says. "I suppose you've read this morning's paper." Danny hasn't, so he looks to Phyllis. "You mean the story about all that money of Sasha's getting stolen? Yes, strange wasn't it. What IS the story?" "You think we should know?" Cricket asks, indignantly. "The police said a black ballerina did it," Paul says. "But we know it had to have been you, Phyllis." Phyllis looks surprised. "Me? Am I overtanning, or is it perhaps my unmistakable dancing style? She makes a few clumsy moves, making it plain she is no ballerina. "The article says they found a box of popcorn right across the street, too. I suspect it belonged to the driver of the getaway vehicle and--" There's a knock at the door. Paul, being nearest to the door, pulls it open and some police enter.

Nina arrives at Flo's to tell her about the news of her visit with Dr. Reid but is puzzled to find the police wandering about. "I'm looking for my mother, Flo Webster?" Nina inquires. "They were out of town for the day," one of the policemen tells her. "Oh, thank god!" Nina says, "What happened?" "Break-in," the man says. She sees Ryan and rushes to him. "Ryan!" He holds her. "Hey, hey, it's ok. Relax. Nothing happened," he explains. "Nothing, look at you!" "He had a knife, but fortunately he didn't use it!" "But Ryan, look at you, you're cut..." "Oh, he got those from the girl," the officer says helpfully as he examines a small notepad. "Girl?" Nina says looking involuntarily up the stairs. Trisha waves meekly. "Ryan, how could you?" Nina starts to run for the door. "Nina!" Ryan calls after her. "It's not what it looks like..." He trails off because she is gone.

"I asked that the popcorn box be run for prints," Paul finishes explaining. "I assume you have the results of the fingerprint tests?" Paul asks the police. They nod. "Christine Williams," says one of the officers. "You're under arrest for Conspiracy to Commit Grand Larceny. You have the right to an attorney--" "I AM an attorney," she says. "If I were you I'd get another, ma'am," one of the policemen says. "He's right, you know," comes a familiar voice from the hallway. She turns to stare. "A lawyer who defends herself has a fool for a client," the man says. He turns to camera and says "Michael Baldwin, defense attorney, at your service." "You framed me, Michael!" "Me? No. I was just let out of prison this morning," he says. "I have some very trustworthy folks who can swear to that. No, I just saw the paper this morning and figured you'd need my help."

Nina gets on the phone to Dr. Tim. "Listen, Doctor, I have a proposition for you." "A..." he gulps, taking her literally, "proposition?" "You said I needed a boyfriend, right?" "Right...." "Because it might help get Ryan to realize what he was losing, right?" "Right." "I want to hire you," Nina says. "Hire me? But I already have a job, and you're welcome to make an appointment any time." "No, I mean for some moonlighting... as my boyfriend." "Nina, I'm afraid I can't just ..." "$5,000" "Nina, I have a job and I don't really--" "$10,000" "Nina, I can't just--" "Look, doc, I know you have a job but surely there's something you wish you could afford but you can't. How about $20,000--I'm rich, I can afford it. And you won't have to do anything. I just want to scare my husband." Bing bing bing. Something went off in Tim's head as soon as he heard the magic number. A way to recover the money he'll never get back from Phyllis. "All right, Mrs. McNeil, I'll do it." He hangs up the phone, sweating. "I'll do it? Phyllis, you're not even here and you're still making me do things--things I'd never have imagined I could or would? What have you turned me into?"

"All right, take it to the halls, you guys. I have a child to feed," Phyllis says. "And I have to be off to work," Danny adds. They shut the others outside. Danny kisses Phyllis. "Wow. What was all that about?" he asks, as if he didn't process any of it. "I'm not sure either," Phyllis says. "Well, it was an exciting way to start the day, but I have to run." They kiss quickly. "Bye, Danny.." He exits and she picks up the phone. "Tim," she says. "It's me, Phyllis... NO, I haven't called for an extension! Really, Tim, you always think the worst of me and I just can't imagine why... I wanted to pay you EARLY if you don't mind... The morning paper? No, I haven't seen it... Really? Well, I'm on my way over to your office now--you can compare me head to toe with the description of the culprit, but I think you'll find I'm not your man..."

That's all for this episode. Hope you learned something. Don't miss Episode 47!
If you missed any older episodes, see the index.

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