Wanderlust
Updated 1999-10-17 17:00:00
Fade up on a police sedan pulling up beside a block of brownstones. The siren beeps to move people out of the way, and a graphic at the bottom of my TV screen tells me that next week we get an all-new episode. Is that really central to our plot development here? I think not. Anyway, my boyfriend Detective Elliot Stabler gets out of the sedan, ducks under the yellow police tape, and flashes his badge. A female uniform cop tells him that this week's special victim is Richard F. Schiller, forty-two, and leads my man inside. Cut to the crime scene. A dead blond guy is laying on a black leather and chrome reclining chair, with a blanket covering his crotchal area and a strip of black electrical tape over his mouth. Two CSU guys are working on him. As the female uniform cop leads Stabler into the room, she looks at the body and then quickly away, like she might be sick. "First time?" Stabler asks. She nods. Don't worry, honey; he'll be gentle. "Who the hell is that?" calls a slurred, raspy voice. Stabler turns to see Benson talking to the former Mrs. Jill Taylor of Home Improvement. Luckily for us, no insufferable grunting husband or sons are with her. Benson addresses her as "Mrs. Hayes" and introduces her to Stabler. Mrs. Hayes welcomes him to her house as she stands up, quite unsteadily. Benson asks her if she's okay, and explains that Mrs. Hayes found the body. She's the landlady, see, who lives here with her daughter and rented the room to Mr. Schiller. Stabler asks where the daughter is. Mrs. Hayes, who by now has stumbled up behind Benson, replies, "She's out!" Then she looks at her dead tenant and starts crying as she waxes nostalgic: "He was the best tenant: clean, quiet, always paid on time. Early, even!" Stabler asks the female uniform to take Mrs. Hayes downstairs. Mrs. Hayes doesn't like that one bit. "I am right here! Don't talk to me like I'm not here! This is MY HOUSE. I'm not going anywhere." I'd like to point out that Mrs. Hayes should be requesting that people not talk about her like she's not there, but really, do any of us think it's a good idea to get into an argument about preposition use with a drunk lady? I think not. Moving right along, Benson says she could use a cup of coffee, and she and Mrs. Hayes exit stage right. Stabler gloves up and asks the CSU guys if they know what Schiller's story is. He and the female uniform lean in to peel off the electrical tape, and she tells Stabler that the dead guy was a writer. Stabler bags the tape as the female uniform elaborates that, according to the landlady, Schiller was a travel writer. Stabler pulls a pair of red lace panties (and the dying breath) from the victim's mouth, looks amazed, and puns, "Looks like he choked on his own words."