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L.A. Noire Walkthrough Part 31: "The Red Lipstick Murder" (4 of 6)

Check out part 32 of this L.A. Noire walkthrough and beat "The Red Lipstick Murder" with this online demo.

Transcript

Galloway: Okay, Phelps. We go in hard. You follow my lead. You Jacob Henry?

Jacob: Yeah. Who's asking?

Galloway: LAPD. You're under arrest for the murder of your wife, Celine Henry.

Jacob: Murder? Celine? Oh my God.

Galloway: Save the dramatics for RKO, pal. You've got bigger problems.

Jacob: What the hell are you talking about? You come in here, you tell me that Celine is...

Phelps: Take a seat, Mr. Henry.

Jacob: That she's...

Phelps: We're going to have a look around, then we'll talk.

Jacob: Jesus. I'm sorry.

Galloway: I get even the slightest hint that you're a flight risk, pal. You think the atmosphere's thick in here? Wait until you try the gas chamber.

Phelps: The oldest problem there is, what to do about the old lady.

Galloway: He'll be back in a moment. Just sit tight.

Phelps: Size elevens. So who could've killed Celine? Where did she go last night, Jacob?

Jacob: A bar, I suppose. Look, I don't know.

Phelps: You know where she went, Jacob. You're lying. Why would I help you if you keep lying to me?

Jacob: Look, I'm telling you I don't know.

Phelps: We know she went to the Bamba Club.

Jacob: The bartender there, he calls me if things are getting out of hand, and I go and I bring her home. He called me last night. I said no. Phone rang a couple more times after that, I ignored it. I'm going to have to live with that.

Phelps: When did you last see your wife, Mr. Henry?

Jacob: Last night. I went to see her, we talked. Things got a little out of hand. I left.

Phelps: You don't remember what time you last saw your wife alive?

Jacob: Look, I'm sorry. I left maybe 9:00 p.m. Might have been a little later but right around nine.

Phelps: Why did you kill her, Jacob? Things will go better if you come clean about it.

Jacob: That's a lousy thing to say. I never gave up on my wife.

Phelps: I don't believe you, Jacob. I think you didn't have the guts to do it yourself so you had someone else do it.

Jacob: You want to back that up with something, big mouth? Huh?

Phelps: The note by the phone suggests you meant her harm.

Jacob: You want the truth? Truth is I was sick to death of her. I was trying to have her committed.

Phelps: We're still going to need you to come downtown, Mr. Henry.

Galloway: We can get this all down on paper, Jacob. How you got fed up with your wife and how you figured killing her would bury all your troubles.

Jacob: Kill my own wife?

Galloway: She was a lush and a tramp and you just couldn't stand it anymore.

Jacob: Shut your goddamn mouth!

Galloway: So now you're going to tell me you loved her? The DA goes all gooey over remorse, Jacob.

Phelps: You're awful hot under the collar for an innocent man, Mr. Henry.

Galloway: Call it in and get a squad car dispatched. And check for messages. I'll keep old slugger here company.

Phelps: Operator, give me dispatch.

Operator 1: Putting you through now.

Phelps: Phelps, Badge 12-40-7.

Operator 2: How can I help, Detective?

Phelps: I need a patrol unit to transport a suspect back to Central.

Operator 2: Certainly, Detective. You have a message from the coroner. Do you wish to be put through?

Phelps: Yes, ma'am.

Carruthers: Carruthers.

Phelps: It's Phelps.

Carruthers: I've completed the autopsy. Several wounds to the head with a blunt metal instrument. Closest match would be a socket wrench handle.

Phelps: So the cause of death was the blunt?

Carruthers: No. The blows to the head, surprisingly, were not fatal. Death was from hemorrhage and shock from the fractured ribs and multiple injuries caused by the stomping.

Phelps: Anything else?

Carruthers: He's some kind of sex fiend. The tissues of the anus were bruised about one-eighth of an inch, but no trace of semen in the anus, vagina or stomach.

Phelps: Thanks, Doc. Operator, give me R&I. Any word on an owner for that vehicle? License was two-boy-eight-eight-nine-nine.

Operator 2: Yes, Detective. The plate belongs to a brown 1936 Pontiac. Registered owner is one Alonzo Mendez, of 402 South Fremont Street, apartment 16.

Phelps: Thanks. Any other messages?

Operator 2: One, Detective. From Captain Donelly. He wants any and all suspects returned to Central. Interviews to be set up immediately.

Phelps: Got it. We're coming in.

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