Phelps: For the record, Mr. Taraldsen, what is your wife's name?
Phelps: Do you have any idea why anyone would want to hurt your wife?
Taraldsen: No. Everyone loved Theresa. She was so full of life. It can't be anyone who knew her.
Phelps: I think you're lying, Lars. I think you were made at your wife for embarrassing you in front of your friends. I think you came back here and strangled her, and then dumped her body on the hill.
Taraldsen: You think I strangled my wife? How do you expect to prove that?
Phelps: Your wife was strangled with a triple braid rope. The bowline from your boat is a perfect match.
Taraldsen: Look, I know this looks bad. I'm going to have to come to terms with the fact that I let her go.
Phelps: You said you went to a party at Bobby Ross' place?
Taraldsen: That's right, Bobby had a bunch of people over. We were having a good time. She said she was bored and decided to leave.
Phelps: You let your drunk wife leave the party and go off on her own?
Taraldsen: Look, I was angry, I was having a good time. She has to go and ruin it. We always have to do what she wants to do. Last night she wanted to go dancing.
Phelps: Any idea where?
Taraldsen: Where she always goes. A bar down on North Beaudry Avenue, Baron's Bar. She goes there, drinks too much, gets maudlin, and calls me. I go and bring her home.
Phelps: Mr. Taraldsen, was Theresa happy at home?
Taraldsen: Yeah, I think she was.
Phelps: Spill it, Taraldsen. We like the look of you for this, so you had better give us something.
Taraldsen: We're at the party, she has a few and says she wants to go out dancing. We only have the sitter until nine. I get mad. I tell her to go ahead but I'm staying. She storms out. Look, I'm doing well at cards. I hardly ever do well. I married her because she was so much fun but now she drives me fucking crazy.
Phelps: What time did she leave the party?
Taraldsen: About 8:30, maybe a little earlier.
Phelps: When was the last time you saw your wife?
Taraldsen: Around 8:30. The card game at Bobby's was wrapping up. I played out my hand and drove home here, paid the sitter, and went to bed.
Phelps: You're lying, Lars. You didn't come straight home, did you?
Taraldsen: And how do you figure that?
Phelps: You were out in the rain. You got soaked, Lars. We found your wet weather gear.
Taraldsen: Okay, I stayed a little later than I said. This cute little brunette was hitting on me. Theresa noticed. I was half cut. I walked her home from Bobby's, but nothing happened. I walked back and got the car this morning.
Phelps: Thanks for answering our questions, Mr. Taraldsen. You'll need to go Downtown to identify your wife's body.
Taraldsen: I should've taken her dancing.
Galloway: In my experience, mac, if you give in to broads, you'll be giving in to them your entire life. Sounds like the Taraldsen broad had her last drink at Baron's Bar. We should check the place out.
Phelps: Appreciate your time, sir.
Galloway: You believe this guys story?
Phelps: Kind of rings true.
Phelps: You're behind the wheel.
Galloway: Fine. Where are we headed?