Shift

Houston edged the Cubbies, 5-4, last night --

Chicago!

It is August 15, 1998, 10:30 p.m.,

and we're coolin' off into the 60s after a hot --

Hey there, Pinkertons.

How are you tonight?

I know it's been a sultry August, in part thanks to me,

but I'm hoping to cool you off for a while.

Kick your feet up, grab a cold drink,

and settle in with me, because before you know it,

the night will heat up

and all you'll be able to do is hold on tight.

Loose those lips, Pinkertons, and share a secret with me.

I promise not to tell.

Ah. This is Grace Kelly.

She's been with the company longer than I have.

She's always on time, never clocks out,

and, best of all, works for free.

Try to be like Grace.

She's a squeaker.

Lever's broken.

No benefits, you know? Wah-wah.

Best to stay out of everyone's way.

If anything happens, call the cops.

This job's not worth getting hurt over,

and I don't want to do the insurance paperwork if you do.

-Got it? -I don't have insurance.

Good. It's a scam.

Oh! I hate when people move out.

You'd be surprised

how many forget they own a storage unit after a while.

Automatic payments deduct nonetheless.

Uh, change the tapes at the end of your shift.

Mark them with the date. Put them on my desk. Okay?

- And if anything does happen... - Oh, shit.

...mark that down too.

- Okay. - Are -- Are you okay?

Yeah. I'll be fine. Let's go.

Like so.

Ah, but hardly anything ever does.

Grace can attest to that.

Bring something to stay busy.

You got something for tonight, right?

-Uh... -Oh, geez.

Hold on.

Okay. Here. Here.

Listen to this.

Feel free to bring whatever tomorrow.

Uh, those are the Joneses.

They come in a couple of times a week.

Mr. Jones is an entrepreneur -- uh, whatever that means.

Mrs. Jones comes in a little bit more often.

She shouldn't be too much trouble, though.

Damn camera slips from time to time.

I'll get around to it.

You a writer or something?

Lots of folks who take this job consider themselves a King type.

Don't drink in here.

-Just want to clear my head. -Mm.

Good luck with that. Come on.

I want to show you the storage room.

Okay. Right here.

All kinds of crap.

Okay. Come on. Come on.

Haul that bucket over here.

Mop up everything, wall to wall.

- Every hallway. - Okay.

Door to door, all the way down.

Okay.

See you tomorrow, Tom.

Bye.

Looks like it's just you and me, Grace.

Excited to have company?

Me too.

Mm.

Hm.

Uh, no.

How about Chinese, Grace?

- Hey. Tom. - Hey, boss.

When you leave for the night, throw away your trash.

We don't need renters complaining about rats

in their lockers because the security guy is a slob.

-Got it? -Yeah. Sorry about that.

Just don't do it again.

Here. You need to finish this.

You need an emergency contact.

-Oh, I don't really have one. -I need it for insurance.

Okay.

Great. Thanks.

I'm headed out. Any questions?

No. I'm good. It was...quiet.

Always is.

Don't forget to change the tapes.

Who's still in today?

Yikes.

What do you think, Grace?

I agree.

What do you think she's doing in there, Grace?

...will happen again.

Not today.

I can't remember when... Wait. What -- What the fuck?

You know, going to bed at 9 never made more sense.

The scent of alcohol...

Let's settle in, Miss Kelly.

Hey there, Pinkertons.

Welcome to Chicago's Mystery Hour on WPIK.

I'm your host, Iris Keen.

And tonight I want to talk to those provocateurs

hustling and grifting their way...to the top.

So go on. Give me a call.

I love to hear what

or who you've stumbled into lately.

Talk to me, Scottie.

Hi. Iris?

I think my wife is cheating on me.

Oh, pray tell, baby.

She's spending time

over at her boss's house after work.

- She says they're busy, but -- - Busy?

I'm just not sure what to do.

How do you know she's there?

Did you ask her?

No. I...I...

Oh, Scottie.

Have you been following your lovely little wife?

- Um... - It's okay, baby.

We're all curious.

Yeah, I did -- just a couple of times.

Is that okay?

Of course.

Don't make it a habit. And don't get caught.

But you have to confront her eventually.

I know. But what if she isn't?

What if I'm crazy?

Therapy, baby. Therapy works for crazy.

Kimberly, you're on with Iris.

Fine, fine.

Tell me about the laundry you --

Oh, my God. Oh, my God.

Shit.

Looks like we know what she's doing in there now, huh, Grace?

I know. Scandalous.

What? Nobody's watching.

Except us.

There she is.

Where's the lover boy?

Did you see him leave, Grace?

- W-What are you doing? - Nothing.

What are you doing right now?

I'm at the desk. I'm looking at the cameras.

Stop snooping on the customers.

I'm not snooping. I'm just working.

She's having an affair, okay?

She's an adult.

I don't care that she's having an affair.

I mean, I guess I kind of do.

Stop. Please stop.

Look. You're up late. You're bored. You're alone.

- That's not what this is. - I get it. I get it.

No harm, no foul. I've been there.

I'm a warm-blooded man.

I've noticed Mrs. Jones' friends,

even wondered what it's like to be one of them.

I'm not envious, Hal.

We don't need renters pulling out

because the security guy's a perv, got it?

Got it.

- Talk to you later. - Yeah.

Good evening, Pinkertons.

It's that time of night where I'd like to hear from you

for a while.

Summer might be winding down,

but we have at least one hot night ahead.

So pick up that phone and call me.

Please don't be shy.

- Name? - Uh, yeah.

-Uh...Gumshoe. -Okay.

Looks like we have our first caller,

who goes by the name of Gumshoe.

I like that.

What do you have for us, Gumshoe?

I love a strong, silent type,

but wordplay gets me in the mood.

Yeah. Uh, hi, Mrs. Keen.

Ms., baby. What strings are you pulling on tonight?

There's a woman I know who's having an affair.

-How do you know her? -Well, I don't know know her.

I-I watch her.

-Oh, Gumshoe. -Oh, not like a stalker.

Does she know you're watching?

Uh, well, not exactly.

I hate to use the S word, baby,

especially when PIs are listening.

-I-I'm a security guard. -Ah.

-Where do you work? Hotel? -Storage facility.

A strange place to keep a bed, Gumshoe.

-I agree. -Go on, baby.

Well, it's not the affair I'm, uh...investigating.

No? Then what are you investigating?

Right. So, the other night, a woman brings back a man.