Detective Frank Pembleton? Mike Logan, NYPD. This is your prisoner, R. Vincent Smith.
So, whenever you decide to show up, I'm supposed to be here?
Hey, you're on the clock same as me, what difference does it make?
Typical Big Apple attitude.
Anyway, Mr. Smith here has agreed to waive extradition on a felony warrant for second-degree murder. So they call this Charm City, huh? Sounds like something you get out of a box of Cracker Jacks. Who'd want to stay in this land of enchantment?
Plenty of New Yorkers ran down here to Baltimore. Dorothy Parker, for one.
Dorothy who?
Parker, you illiterate.
[Logan slaps the back of Smith's head]
Dorothy Parker was the wittiest woman in America. The toast of Manhattan. She dies, she's cremated. Her ashes sit in a jar in some Wall Street lawyer's office for twenty years - twenty years - while all the New York sophisticates ham and haw, 'whatsoever shall we do with poor Dorothy's ashes?' And where does she end up? Baltimore!
I got two words for you guys. Babe Ruth. The Babe. King of Swing, Sultan of Swat, born right here in Baltimore. But where does he go to get his fame and fortune? New York City.
Edgar Allen Poe. Edgar Allen Poe hated New York so much he had to come to Baltimore to die! That's what New York does to its poets.
What did he die of, the local crab cakes? Enjoy your stay, Shakespeare.
You're going to jail for this murder. But thank your lucky stars it's not gonna be in New York.
Why do you think I didn't fight extradition? I may be guilty, but I'm no fool.
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