Cop shop. McNulty has apparently just finished recapping the case for Bunk; no one's flipped: "That part of town, Barksdale carries more weight than we do. Just like all these fucking homicides -- witnesses lying, witnesses paid off, witnesses backing up on their story." "Can you blame them?" murmurs Bunk. "Not really," McNulty admits. "Every now and then, we visit the Projects. They live there." Right on cue, Jay rolls up, glowing with excitement, and asks McNulty, "Your man's Dee, right?" "D'Angelo, yeah," says McNulty. Jay has a file that indicates a "Dee" as a possible shooter: "This one connects." As McNulty looks at the autopsy photos, Jay says that the victim is "Diedre Kresson, one of Keeley's cases." And as we see, Diedre now has a gigantic bullet wound in her left kidney. McNulty doesn't buy that D'Angelo could be involved: "Come on, Jay, this is a college girl, blown up in the kitchen of an apartment up in Northeast." Bunk asks Jay how this outlier of a murder could be connected to Barksdale, or to any of the Barksdalies. "They...don't have cars?" asks Jay. McNulty's not buying it. Jay says that a witness puts Diedre with a "Dee" the night before her death. McNulty wants to know how many "Dee"s there are in the system. Jay goes on a long bitch about how the rest of the homicide squad is suffering from being down a man while McNulty has a "big adventure" solving everyone else's cases, and now McNulty's shitting on this possible addition to the pile: "Where's the love, McNulty? Show me some fucking love." McNulty relents, and Jay cheers, "Attaboy. He's my son!" Snick. He takes off, and Bunk asks why McNulty doesn't just dump the case on Santangelo. McNulty says he would if he could find him: "Must have another job, he's gone so much." Bunk asks what Daniels says about that. McNulty says that he covers for Santangelo. Bunk, flipping through the file, says that Keeley "really dogged" the Kresson case: "Ain't nothing in here but a 24 and some crime scene photos, and this." Indicating a pink message slip, he reads, "Tywanda called. N.F.D., no last name, no address. Claims your victim killed after being visited by a suspect named Dee." There's no further description for this "Dee," but there is a callback number. "So call," grits McNulty. Bunk, apparently unable to think of a reason not to, does. But the number's been disconnected. After some fond bitching of the sort you see in all old married couples, Bunk says he's going to call Verizon and see if there's a fresh listing: "You happy now, bitch?" Oh, McNulty's never happy.