And medicine can help me discover that.
And then, perhaps, it can help me catch the man...
...who killed your little boy.
Dr. Clancy. Fax for you. It's marked urgent.
What is it?
Check the cerebellar lobe.
Whoa! What is this?
- Well, there's your answer. - What?
Brain tumor. Size of a pea.
Hidden in the cerebellar lobe.
- John? - What's up, Doc?
Christ!
- John? - I'm out. Finished.
The fax? What the hell did it say?
I don't know. It was urgent and confidential.
Somebody trained you too well.
John!
Goddamn it! You gotta let somebody in on this!
- We're walking right into a trap. - What? You gotta talk to me.
He's way ahead of us. And we do exactly what he wants us to do.
Don't you get it?
I'm out.
Doctor Clancy?
- Hi. - Hi.
- Do you mind? - Go ahead. You're paying for it.
So, we find a tumor...
that no one could've known about.
We've established connections
between victims that, I freely admit, I could never have seen.
And instead of stepping up and leading from the front,
you run out of an autopsy, which you asked for,
coincidentally, without any explanation,
and now you're packing your bags and you're going home.
Forgive me, Clancy,
but what the fuck?
Hmm.
"Who am I?
I will tell you in two words who I am, what I do, and how I live."
What about that riddle?
- It's not a riddle. - What is it?
"Le diro con due parole, chi son, e che faccio, come vivo."
- It's from La Bohème by Puccini. - So the killer is an opera nut.
That really helps with the profile.
- Thank you, Clancy. - No.
I'm the nut. I'm the opera nut.
I happened to be listening to those lines, the very moment I read your case files.
- I... I don't get it. - He knew I'd be listening to that music.
He knew that you would ask me to help.
He knew we would arrive at the apartment at exactly 4:16 am.
Because he knows everything.
You see... He's just like me. He sees things.
Only he's better at it.
A whole lot better. Come, read that.
Come on, read it!
"Dr. Clancy,
Check the cerebellar lobe."
Okay.
So that's why you're quitting.
You've met your match.
Oh, no.
No. This guy, he's way beyond me.
I can't stop him, which begs a more important question.
Is he really worth stopping? These victims, they were dying anyway.
He's not killing them out of compulsion, or anger, or any...
deviant psychosis or so.
No, he's the cigar, the ice cream, the cocktails, the flowers in the bathtub
and all that whacko stuff. This guy is brilliant.
And he's killing them with kindness.
Get it? It's mercy killing.
- Bullshit! - Is it?
- It's murder. - Mm-hmm.
That may spare a lot of suffering.
If this was your daughter, would you be saying the same thing, Clancy?
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to...
It's just...
I know your... I know your daughter died.
But we all die someday, don't we?
So what is it...
...that's so terrible that you can't talk about?
Okay!
Here's what I'm not telling you.
You lost your virginity to a drunk stud called Bruce
in the back of his green Ford Bronco at 17
You didn't like it very much because
he puked all over you.
5 years ago, you had a boyfriend called Kevin.
No, sorry. Gavin.
A year into that relationship you discovered
he thought you were pregnant with his baby.
Gavin didn't want it but you did, so he left you.
And 21/2 months later, the baby was born.
A little girl, Amanda.
But one day you decided to give her up for adoption.
It's breaking your heart,
tearing your guts out and that's why you pretend to be so foul-mouthed and cool.
Exactly twice a year on each of your parents' birthdays, Doreen and Frank,
On their birthdays, 11/16 and 10/23,
you call them in Cincinnati
and tell them you love them, they reply "We love you too, honey bunny."
And then you will cry your heart out on that red goose down pillow.
And you'll hate my guts for telling you all this.