The Mysteries of Laura

Damn it!

Let me guess, texting!

Urgent message from the White House?

Oh, are you kidding me, you're drunk? It is 8:00 in the morning!

Hey, rise and shine, moron!

In addition to arresting the New York connection for a major Mexican cartel,

we utilized the law of civil forfeiture to confiscate all of his assets.

Suffice it to say, Mr. Cortez will not be driving

his armor-plated Mercedes S65 any time soon.

Now, thank you all for your time,

but the 2nd Precinct has a lot more bad guys to catch.

Any further questions, please direct them to

deputy commissioner for press information, Lisa Hanlon.

My office will be issuing a statement by 11:00 A.M.

And that's all I have.

Thank you all.

Guy never met a press conference he didn't like.

The camera does love him.

Lisa?

- Laura! Hi. - Oh!

- Oh, goodness, wow. - Wow!

- Deputy commish? - Yeah.

I gotta say, when we were back in the Academy,

you were not the one I would have voted most likely to end up at 1PP.

Tragically tamed by City Hall.

How much do you miss those book club nights?

I would probably miss them more if I remembered them.

I do remember the one time, I think I was temporarily engaged to a backstreet boy?

Yes, yes, and don't forget my holding your hair

every time you prayed to the porcelain goddess.

- Oh... yes, so true. - Lightweight.

God, that was fun.

Why don't we have a book club reunion?

I'm still in touch with some of the crew. I'm sure we could rally in a heartbeat.

I would love that, but it's not like I'm rolling in free time

- with the ridiculous caseload here and the kids... - Oh, book club! Book club!

- Book club, book club, book club! - Book club, book club!

Okay, okay, I'll check my calendar.

That's what I'm talking about.

- (Chuckles) Text me. - I will.

Bye.

Book club? Somebody call the nerd police.

It wasn't really a book club. It was more like a "let's get wasted" club.

We just called it "book club" so the other cadets wouldn't wanna come.

- Um, somebody call the awesome police. - They were like my posse.

Calendar-schmalendar. You need to text your book club friend.

- Stat! - Now?

She's still in the building. That's weird.

Okay...

Book club! Book club!

- I'm doing it. - Okay, I'm sorry.

- Reynaldo! - Reynaldo: Detectives.

Your victim is Michael Moretti.

Late 20s, single gunshot to the neck, most likely with a silencer.

Judging by the point of entry, the shooter leaned in

from the passenger side window.

I found the shell casing on the seat.

Meredith: I'm amazed you found anything in here.

I thought Laura's car was bad.

Okay.

- The greatest thing . - Ha, Lady Gaga and Cher. That's a classic.

Little early to be using "Lady Gaga" and "classic" in the same sentence.

Oh, orange lipstick?

Hey, lotto ticket.

Another dude trying to get lucky.

Hmm...

Looks like he already did.

So, I hear you're getting the book club back together.

How'd you hear that?

Oh, I keep my ear to the ground.

Yeah, don't forget your uh, barf bag, Lightweight.

How did you hear that?

Ear to the ground, Diamond, ear to the ground.

- (Chuckling) - So, gunshot to the neck.

What's up with the red mark on his treasure trail?

I would say that is some sort of heat rash.

He's got Band-Aids on his ankles.

Like I get when I wear heels,

which is why I don't.

The lab found a powdery residue on the shell casing.

Calcium carbonate, usually found in...

- Makeup. - I was gonna say makeup,

which your colleagues found in the car

along with a 40 DD brassiere.

Seems as though our deceased friend recently had a successful date.

Or maybe not.

You know what else causes a heat rash right there...

- Spanx? - I was gonna say spanx.

Super-sized bra, Band-Aids on the back of the ankles,

makeup, spanx rash, I don't think that there was a date.

I bet our victim was a cross-dresser.

You know, that makes sense.

That bodega that sold him the lottery ticket found at the crime scene?

It's right across the street from Lady Mary's.

It's the hottest drag bar on the West Side.

Reynaldo, you are full of surprises.

Ear to the ground, Diamond. Ear to the ground.

- You again? - I'm a professional doorman.

What's your excuse?

We're here about Michael Moretti, he was murdered this morning.

- Oh my God, it's Cher. - Excuse me?

Not the real one. You're on the list.

He was a doll. We were partners.

Laura: Oh, I am so sorry.

Not like that! We were stage partners.

His Cher, my Gaga.

That explains the CD in the car.

What can you tell us about Mickey?

He lived by himself in Brooklyn.

Had a sister nearby somewhere.

I'll have Max track her down.

Okay, well, what about here? Did he have a beef with anybody?

Actually, I did hear that he got into it with another dragster last week.

He got too clingy, really set Mickey off.

- So, Mickey had a temper. - And it could come on fast.

Does "clingy" have a name?

Excuse me? You wanna hold it down here, honey. I'm working.

I'm working, too.

You the new singer? Let me guess,

Lucille Balls?

Ha! Best day of my life.

Sorry, I'm all woman. Careful. You're gonna miss your chorus.

Oh, really, smart ass? Well, why don't you take it?

Are you kidding me? Honey, I could slay the boy and his sister.

Okay, okay! Timeout, timeout.

Thank you, sister. Thank you.

- You know I could kill that. - I know.

- You've seen me up there. - Easy tiger. You were talking about Ms. Clingy?

Mickey never gave me a name. He didn't want me getting mixed up in it.

He was like that, protective.

Is there anything he did tell you about it?

Only that, whoever it was, was bald under her wig

and tried to cover it up wearing a seriously misguided toupee.

Where's the dressing rooms?

Laura: Real hair.

Real hair.

Hold on.

Ow! What the hell?

I'm sorry. I just... I just always have wanted little baby curls.

That's him.

That looks like real hair to me.

No, not him. Him.

Ugh. Oh!

I think I just saw that thing on Animal Planet last night.

- Billy: Time to trap the wildebeest. - Laura: Go for it.

Hey, NYPD. May I have a word with you?

Whoa, hey, hey!

Excuse me!

Hey, police! Stop!

Hey, come back here!

- Whoa, whoa, whoa! - Watch it!

Hold up!

All right, everyone. Let's give it up for Miss Cama Flage!

Yes! So... Oh!

Hey!

- Almost had him, man. - (Scoffs) Sure, you did.

- (Grunts) - That's for Mickey.

You and your rug are off the list.

Andrew Jakubowski, AKA Sleeping Booty.

Talk to me about Mickey Moretti.

Mickey was so gorgeous.

I mean, what straight guy goes to drag clubs and dresses like Cher?

Yes, we had a little tiff.

I called him a tease. He didn't like that.

- But I didn't kill him. - Then why'd you run?

I thought maybe he got a restraining order.

I mean, he went off on me, saying just because he's dressed like this

doesn't mean he's gay.

Then he throws me against a wall and says

I'm as bad as the backward dumbasses in his old neighborhood.

- You touched a nerve. - Yeah, a big one.

Look, I was at the dermatologist yesterday morning

when you said Mickey was killed.

I'm getting full-facial electrolysis.

I've got his card, here.

Okay.

Sit tight while I check your alibi.

In the meantime, with that 5:00 shadow you got,

book another appointment.

Ms. Moretti?

Drea.

I'm so sorry about your brother.

It's his St. Christopher's medallion.

I gave it to him for his first communion.

I know this is hard, but can you tell me anything, anything at all,

about your brother that might help us find his killer.

I hadn't seen him in months.

I don't even know how he supported himself.

Performing at that bar didn't pay much.

He just loved it.

He always did.

So, he'd been cross-dressing for some time?

Since he was a kid.

He always dated girls.

You know, this... this was just his thing.

It was pretty hard, how much he got teased. Thank God for Eric.

- Who's Eric? - Mickey's best friend, growing up.

He always looked out for Mickey, kept the bullies off him.

Until Mickey hit a growth spurt,