MILLER'S CROSSING An original screenplay by Joel Coen And Ethan Coen FADE IN CLOSE SHOT - A WHISKEY TUMBLER That sits on an oak side bar under a glowing green bankers lamp, as two ice cubes are dropped in. From elsewhere in the room: MAN (off) I'm talkin' about friendship. I'm talkin' about character. I'm talkin' about--hell, Leo, I ain't embarrassed to use the word--I'm talkin' about ethics. Whiskey is poured into the tumbler, filling it almost to the rim, as the offscreen man continues. MAN ...You know I'm a sporting man. I like to make the occasional bet. But I ain't that sporting. THE SPEAKER A balding middle-aged man with a round, open face. He still wears his overcoat and sits in a leather chair in the dark room, illuminated by the offscreen glow of a desk lamp. This is Johnny Caspar. Behind him stands another man, harder looking, wearing an overcoat and hat and holding another hat--presumably Caspar's. This is Bluepoint Vance. CASPAR When I fix a fight, say--if I pay a three-to-one favorite to throw a goddamn fight--I figure I got a right to expect that fight to go off at three- to-one. But every time I lay a bet with this sonofabitch Bernie Bernheim, before I know it the odds is even up--or worse, I'm betting the short money... Behind Caspar we hear the clink of ice in the tumbler and a figure emerges from the shadows, walking away from the glowing bar in the background. CASPAR ...The sheeny knows I like sure things. He's selling the information I fixed the fight. Out-of-town money comes pourin' in. The odds go straight to hell. I don't know who he's sellin' it to, maybe the Los Angeles combine, I don't know. The point is, Bernie ain't satisfied with the honest dollar he can make off the vig. He ain't satisfied with the business I do on his book. He's sellin' tips on how I bet, and that means part of the payoff that should be ridin' on my hip is ridin' on someone else's. So back we go to these questions--friendship, character, ethics. The man with the whiskey glass has just passed the camera and we cut to the: REVERSE Another well dressed, middle aged man, behind a large polished oak desk, listening intently. This is Leo. He is short but powerfully built, with the face of a man who has seen things. The man with the whiskey enters frame and passes Leo to lean against the wall behind him, where he listens quietly. CASPAR ...So its clear what I'm sayin'? LEO Clear as mud. Caspar purses his lips but continues unfazed. CASPAR It's a wrong situation. It's gettin' so a businessman can't expect no return from a fixed fight. Now if you can't trust a fix, what can you trust? For a good return you gotta go bettin' on chance, and then you're back with anarchy. Right back inna jungle. On account of the breakdown of ethics. That's why ethics is important. It's the grease makes us get along, what separates us from the animals, beasts a burden, beasts a prey. Ethics. Whereas Bernie Bernheim is a horse of a different color ethics- wise. As in, he ain't got any. He's stealin' from me plain and simple. Leo leans back in his chair. The man behind Leo raises the whiskey glass to his lips. He is trimmer and younger than Leo, perhaps in his thirties, dark-complected, with a pencil mustache and a gaunt intensity that is not entirely healthy-looking. This is Tom. As he drinks, he studies Caspar and Bluepoint. LEO You sure it's Bernie, selling you out? For the first time the man behind Caspar speaks: BLUEPOINT It ain't elves. LEO Nobody else knows about the fix? CASPAR No one that ain't got ethics. LEO What about the fighters you pay to tank out? BLUEPOINT We only pick fighters we can put the fear of God in. LEO Any other bookies know? You play anyone else's book? CASPAR I lay an occasional bet with Mink Larouie. BLUEPOINT But it ain't Mink, I'll vouch for that. LEO How do you know? Caspar shakes his head. CASPAR It ain't Mink. Mink is Bluepoint's boy. LEO Mm. And of course, Bluepoint always knows about the fix. BLUEPOINT What the hell is that supposed to mean? LEO Let it drift. All it means is a lot of people know. CASPAR I guess you ain't been listening. Sure other people know. That's why we gotta go to this question of character, determine just who exactly is chiseling in an my fix. And that's how we know it's Bernie Bernheim. The Motzah Kid. 'Cause ethically, he's kinda shaky. LEO You know Bernie's chiseling you because he's a chiseler. And you know he's a chiseler because he's chiseling you. Airily: CASPAR Sometimes you just know. LEO ...So you wanna kill him. BLUEPOINT For starters. Leo nods, thinking. He swivels to look interrogatively at Tom. Tom gives an almost imperceptible shrug. The ice cubes in his glass clink. Leo turns back to Caspar, pauses. LEO ...Sorry, Caspar. Bernie pays me for protection. Tom, peering over his drink, does not entirely conceal his surprise. Caspar stares at Leo, his mouth open. It is not the response he expected. CASPAR ...Listen, Leo, I ain't askin, for permission. I'm tellin' you as a courtesy. I need to do this thing, so it's gonna get done. LEO Then I'm telling you as a courtesy that you'll have trouble. You came here to see if I'd kick if you killed Bernie. Well there's your answer. Caspar's voice is harder: CASPAR Listen Leo, I pay off to you every month like a greengrocer--a lot more than the Motzah--and I'm sick a gettin' the high hat-- LEO You pay off for protection, just like everyone else. Far as I know-- and what I don't know in this town ain't worth knowing--the cops haven't closed any of your dives and the D.A. hasn't touched any of your rackets. You haven't bought any license to kill bookies and today I ain't selling any. Now take your flunky and dangle. Caspar is staring at Leo. He looks at Tom, then rises slowly to his feet. Back at Leo: CASPAR Ya know I'm tryin'...I'm tryin' not to raise my voice in anger. I've always gone along to get along. But you make me lay off the Matzoh and you're givin' me the needle. I told you the sheeny was robbin' me blind, I told you I wanna put him in the ground and I'm telling you now I'm sick a the high hat. He swipes his hat from Bluepoint. CASPAR ...You think I'm some guinea fresh off the boat and you think you can kick me. But I'm too big for that now. He puts his hands on the desk and leans towards Leo. The cords stand out on his neck. CASPAR I'm sick-of takin' the strap from you, Leo. I'm sick a marchin' down to this goddamn office to kiss your Irish ass and I'M SICK A THE HIGH HAT! Caspar stops, out of breath. He is red faced and panting. Bluepoint has put a gently restraining hand an his shoulder. Leo and Tom stare at Caspar impassively. After a beat Caspar shuts his mouth. His eyes lose some of their glaze. He looks at Bluepoint's hand, turns and strides towards the door. CASPAR ...Youse fuckin' fancy-pants, all of ya. He opens the door, but Leo's voice stops him. LEO (softly) Johnny. You're exactly as big as I let you be and no bigger and don't forget it. Ever. Caspar looks at Leo from the open doorway. After a beat he chuckles. CASPAR At's right, Leo, you're the big-shot around here. He dances over at Tom again, then back to Leo: CASPAR ...And I'm just some schnook likes to get slapped around. He leaves, Bluepoint following, shutting the door. After a beat Tom crosses in front of the desk and sits down in the chair Caspar has just vacated. Leo chuckles and leans back in his chair. LEO Twist a pig's ear. Watch him squeal. Tom swallows the last of his drink and stares ruminatively down at his glass. TOM ...Bad play, Leo. Leo, unfazed, grins at Tom. LEO Got up on the wrong side, huh? TOM Same side as always. LEO That's what I mean. Still owe money to--who's your bookie? Lazarre? TOM Mm. LEO I could put it right for you. TOM Thanks Leo, I don't need it. LEO In a pig's eye. You haven't played a winner in six weeks. People'll speak ill of me if I let him break your legs. Tom grins back, for the first time. TOM People'll say I had it coming. LEO And they'll be right, but that ain't the point. Call me a big-hearted slob, but I'm gonna square it for ya. He picks up a phone on his desk and starts to dial. LEO ...Yeah, I think I'll do that, this very same night. Looking at you moping around takes away all my... What did you call it? Joy de veever. Tom stands and walks over to the desk. TOM Joi de vivre. He takes the receiver from Leo and prongs the phone. LEO Well look, if your gonna laugh at me, the hell with you. Tom walks to the door, putting an his hat. TOM And with you. I'll square myself with Lazarre if you don't mind. That's why God invented cards. He pauses in the doorway and turns back to Leo. TOM ...There is something you can do for me. LEO Name it. TOM Think about what protecting Bernie gets us. Think about what offending Caspar loses us. Leo chuckles good-naturedly. LEO Come on, Tommy, you know I don't like to think. Tom has stepped into the hallway and, just as he closes the door: TOM Yeah. Well, think about whether you should start. The door clicks shut. CUT TO BLACK FADE IN THE WOODS - CREDIT SEQUENCE Although it is day, the tree cover gives an effect of almost cathedral-like darkness. The sun filters down through the leaves in gently shifting patterns. We hear only the sound of the wind and the creaking and groaning of tree limbs in the breeze. Head titles are supered over the dissolving series of woods scenes. In the last woods scene the angle is low--almost ground- level. The sun dapples the floor of the forest, which is carpeted with pine needles. With a whoosh of rustling leaves the wind gusts a fedora into frame. For a moment it lies still in the foreground, sunlight rippling over it, making it seem almost alive. Then the wind picks up again and the hat tumbles away from us, end over end, in slow motion into the background, impossibly far away until... it disappears. As we fade out, we hear a distant knocking. FADE IN CLOSE SHOT - TOM Unshaven, eyes closed, motionless. The head credits continue over this one-shot scene. The knocking continues, faintly, offscreen. As we hear a door opening we pull back to a looser shot, revealing that Tom is slumped back on a tired green sofa. A fat hand enters to shake Tom's shoulder. VOICE Wake up, Tommy. Without opening his eyes: TOM I'm awake. VOICE You're eyes were shut. TOM Who're you gonna believe? Tom sits up, though it seems like an effort. He looks sick. From a small mirror behind the couch we see that we are in the back room of a gambling establishment. The leavings of a card game litter a table in the middle background. TOM ...How'd I do? VOICE What do you think. You're a millionaire. You gonna remember your friends? Tom reaches up to feel his head, and looks stupidly about. TOM ...Where's my hat? VOICE You bet it, ya moron. Good thing the game broke up before you bet your shorts. After a beat of staring at nothing in particular, Tom abruptly lurches to his feet and staggers out of frame. The other man sits heavily onto the couch that Tom has just vacated. He is Fat Tony, a big man wearing an apron. He watches as we hear Tom, offscreen, staggering across the room, bumping into something which scrapes and then clatters over, opening a door, staggering across tile, and then vomiting. Fat Tony watches with mild interest. Finally: TOM ...Who left with my hat? TONY Verna. Verna and Mink. TOM ...Who? Louder: TONY Mink and Verna. Offscreen we hear a tap running. TOM ...Thunderclap running tonight? TONY Yeah. TOM What's she leave at? TONY Three-to-one, more'n likely. Lay off, Tom. You shouldn't go deeper in the hole. TOM Tell Lazarre I want five hundred on the nose. Tony shrugs. TONY You would have it. TOM ...Somebody hit me? TONY Yeah. Mink hit you. TOM ...Whyzat? Tony inspects a hangnail on his thumb. TONY You asked him to. CUT TO A HALLWAY A loose shot looking over Tom's shoulder as he knocks on an apartment door. Head credits continue. The door swings open and Verna, an attractive but hard- looking woman in her late twenties or early thirties looks coldly out at Tom. TOM (still slightly woozy) Miss me? VERNA You again. What now? TOM I want my hat. VERNA ...Is that all you came for? TOM Yeah. I want my hat. VERNA I won it. It's mine. TOM What're you gonna do with it? VERNA Drop dead. She slams the door. There is a long, motionless beat. Tom raises his hand and knocks again, missing the door completely on his first try. After a knock or two the door swings open again. TOM I need a drink. VERNA Why didn't you say so. She steps away from the door and Tom enters the apartment. As the door clicks shut we cut to black, and the last of the movie's head credits. Music plays under the credits, mixed in with the woods sounds we heard earlier. As the last of the credits is fading to black we hear a distant knocking, and from black we: CUT TO: CLOSE SHOT - A FEDORA Lying on a marble bureau top in a dark room. A gently rippling cookie plays over it--light from a streetlamp thrown through a curtained window. Reflected in the bureau mirror behind the fedora we see the soft glow of a burning cigarette. REVERSE Tracking in on Tom, sitting in bed, smoking, staring at the bureau. The rippling street light plays over him from the window. We hear a distant knocking. WIDER The bedroom, as Tom swings his legs around and gets out of bed. Tom throws on a dressing gown and leaves the bedroom through its double oak pocket doors, closing the doors behind him. LIVING ROOM Also dark, lit only by streetlight filtering in. The knocking is louder here. Tom crosses the room, silhouetted against the windows, to the apartment's front door. Light fans in as he opens it. Shifting uncomfortably in the hallway is Leo, in an overcoat and fedora. LEO 'Lo, Tommy. Sorry about the hour. TOM I'll live. What's the rumpus? LEO Can I come in? Tom thinks about this for the slightest beat. TOM Sure. He lets Leo precede him into the living room. Tom turns on a lamp that sits on a rolling bar. TOM ...Drink? LEO I wouldn't mind... I tried calling earlier. TOM I got home late. As Tom sits down facing Leo with two drinks: LEO Well... Sorry about the hour. TOM Uh-huh. He waits, with no apparent impatience. The older man is uncomfortable; he is having trouble finding the words. Finally he lifts his glass and swallows it in one gulp. LEO ...Not bad... TOM Better than the paint we sell at the club. LEO That it is... That it is... TOM Thought about cutting Bernie loose? Leo is shuffling his hat nervously from hand to hand. LEO Can't do it, Tommy, can't do it... That's sort of why I'm... Tommy... I don't know where Verna is. Tom fixes him with a level stare, then takes a sip of his drink. TOM Uh-huh. LEO I know what you're thinking: What else is new? But the situation now, I'm worried... Tom blows out air. TOM Verna can take care of herself. Maybe better than you can. LEO What does that mean? Tom stands up, takes Leo's glass and walks back over to the bar. TOM Want another? LEO No. What does that mean? Tom turns to look at Leo, pauses, then decides to speak: TOM How far has she got her hooks into you? LEO That's a hell of a question. TOM It's a grift, Leo. If she didn't need you to protect her brother from Johnny Caspar, d'you think she'd still go with you on slow carriage rides through the park? That is the deal, isn't it? You keep Bernie under wraps 'till Caspar cools down? LEO Jesus but you're a prickly pear. What's wrong with her wanting her brother taken care of? TOM Not a thing. I don't blame her. She sees the angle--which is you-- and she plays it. She's a grifter, just like her brother. They probably had grifter parents and grifter grandparents and someday they'll each spawn little grifter kids-- LEO Stop it, Tommy. I don't like to hear my friends run down. Even by other friends. Tom shrugs. TOM Friendship's got nothing to do with it. LEO The hell you say. You do anything to help your friends. Just like you do anything to kick your enemies. TOM Wrong, Leo. You do things for a reason. LEO Okay, Tom, you know the angles-- Christ, better than anybody. But you're wrong about this. You don't know what's in Verna's heart... Tom stares down into his drink. There is an awkward pause. Then finally, without looking up: TOM Leo, throw her down. And her brother, too. Dump her. Leo looks like he has just been stepped on. LEO Jesus, Tom... Verna's okay... He nods to himself. LEO She's a little wild, but she's okay. I like her. Tom smiles. TOM Yeah, you like her. Like the Kaiser likes cabbage. You're dizzy for her. Leo scowls at Tom. LEO What of it? Jesus, Tom, ain't you ever been bit by that bug? TOM Leo, if she's such an angel, why are you looking for her at four in the morning? Leo digs his hands into his pockets and slouches back, profoundly embarrassed. LEO I put a tail on her this afternoon. TOM Hah! LEO Yeah, I asked Rug Daniels to follow her around--just, you know, just to keep her out of trouble. TOM And to tell you what trouble she was managing to whip up herself. LEO It wasn't to spy, Tom; I was worried. After that meeting with Caspar, well-- you can't be too careful. TOM Uh-huh. And what did Rug tell you that has you scurrying over here? LEO That's just it. Nothing. He's disappeared. Tom laughs humorlessly. TOM So you've lost your ladyfriend and the tail you put an her. LEO I guess it does sound pretty sorry at that... He looks from his empty glass up to Tom. LEO ...Help me out, Tom. I wouldn't know where to start looking. You know Rug's crowd, you know the people Verna runs with. I'm just worried now, with things the way they are between me and Caspar-- Tom gives a wave of disgust. TOM You shouldn't be confronting Johnny Caspar, it's what I've been trying to tell you. You can't trade body blows with him. He's gotten too strong. For the first time Leo displays some testiness: LEO I reckon I can still trade body blows with any man in this town... He sighs, looks back down at his drink. LEO ...Except you, Tom. TOM And Verna. Leo smiles good-naturedly. LEO Okay, give me the needle. I am a sap, I deserve it... He stands and walks to the door. Tom doesn't move. His eyes remain fixed on the chair Leo has just vacated. Leo pauses in the open doorway. LEO ...Thanks for the drink. Let me know if you hear anything... The door closes and he is gone. Tom grimaces and stands up. Sunlight is just starting to come in through the windows, defining for the first time the corners of the large semi- circular room as Tom walks across it to the bedroom. Distant early-morning traffic noise is filtering up from the street. INT. BEDROOM As Tom opens the double oak doors and enters, leaving them open. He crosses to the bed and sits an its edge, hunched forward, thinking. Behind him, a woman stirs. WOMAN (sleepily) Who was that? TOM Leo... He takes a cigarette from the nightstand and lights it. TOM ...He's looking for you. Verna stiffens. VERNA Did you tell him I was here? TOM No. Verna relaxes. VERNA Did you put in a good word for my brother? TOM No. VERNA You said you would. TOM ...I said I'd think about it. VERNA What did you tell him? Tom is lost in thought. He exhales smoke. TOM ...Did you see Rug Daniels last night? VERNA No. What did you tell Leo? Tom finally turns to face her. After looking at her for a beat: TOM ...I told him you were a tramp and he should dump you. A shoe flies past his head and hits the wall behind him. VERNA You're a son of a bitch, Tom. EXT. ALLEYWAY - EARLY MORNING We are on an extreme close shot of a small dog. Behind him, in the distance, we can see the mouth of the alley. The dog is on point, perfectly still, one front leg crooked and raised off the ground, his ears pointed straight up, his eyes in a fixed stare. A MAN is slouched, half-sitting, against the wall of the alley. He is motionless. His mouth is agape. His eyes are rolled up in a lifeless stare. He is wearing an overcoat but it is unbuttoned and reveals a blood stain in the middle of his chest. His fedora lies on the ground near one of his splayed hands. There is something subtly odd about his hair. CLOSE SHOT A LITTLE BOY Perhaps five years old. He stares down at the dead man in front of him. CLOSE SHOT THE MAN Staring vacantly. THE BOY After a moment, he reaches forward. THE MAN As the boy's hand enters frame. The boy pokes once at the man's shoulder. There is no reaction. The boy touches the top of the man's head. The man's hair slips forward a couple of inches over over his forehead. THE BOY Staring. THE MAN Also staring, his skewed hairpiece ill becoming his stunned expression. The boy reaches forward and takes the hairpiece off the man's head. Now a bald man stares off into space, still looking stunned, still quite dead. WIDE SHOT THE ALLEY The dead man and the little boy face each other in profile in the middle foreground. In the background, between them, the little boy's dog faces us, still on point, still whining. The little boy is fascinated by the hairpiece he holds. He turns it over and around, and looks from it to the dead man. Suddenly the boy turns and runs, away from us, towards the mouth of the alley, still clutching the hairpiece. As he passes the dog it turns and runs after him, wagging its tail, happy to be leaving. FADE OUT FADE IN INT. DINER - EVENING A man sits facing us at the counter in the foreground. His face is hidden by the newspaper he is reading. The page of the newspaper being presented to the camera bears a story headlined: GANGSTER SLAIN. The subhead: Politician's "Aide" Found Dead in Alley. After a beat the diner drops the paper to the counter, and we see that it is Tom, wearing overcoat and hat. He is grimacing at whatever he was reading. He stands and digs into his pocket. REVERSE Looking down at the newspaper an the counter, next to a steaming cup of coffee. Tom's hand enters to put some change on the counter, leaves, and we hear his receding footsteps. The headlined story on the page Tom was reading is: THUNDERCLAP INJURED IN RACING MISHAP. CUT TO TRACKING IN TO CLOSE SHOT PLAQUE Set into the brick of a building's exterior, it reads: SHENANDOAH CLUB. In script underneath: Members Only. INT. THE CLUB - NIGHT Tracking towards the front door as Tom enters. He puts his coat and hat on the check counter. TOM Hello, Beryl-- Her arm sweeps across frame to slap Tom hard. CHECK GIRL (off) Ain't you got a conscience? Tom stares dumbly. ON BERYL A diminutive woman in a french maid's uniform with a pill box hat. She rocks her weight on one leg with her hands proceed defiantly on her hips. BERYL ...It's a little voice inside that tells you when you been a heel! TOM Mine's been mum lately--what'd I do? BERYL Stood me up is all. Made me wait an hour and a half is all? Or maybe you don't remember sayin' you'd pick me up after work last night. I seen heels in my time, sure, plenty of 'em! But none so low as couldn't tell me to my face when they was sick of me!... She throws a check number at him. BERYL ...You know where you can stick it! CUT TO TRACKING SHOT Pulling Tom as he walks across the gambling floor. He is joined by a nervous young man in a tuxedo. MINK 'Lo Tom. What's the rumpus? TOM Mink. Mink throws a glance back in the direction of the coat check. MINK ...I see you got your hat back. TOM Yeah, what of it. MINK Not a thing, Tommy. I got not a thing to say. Listen, Bernie wants to see you. It's important. TOM Well I'm right here, and I'm not made of glass. MINK Yeah, but he's nervous walkin' around in public. He's a right guy, but he's nervous, Tommy! He's very nervous! Who wouldn't be?! Tom looks at Mink for the first time. TOM Mink-- MINK The spot he's in, who wouldn't be! He asked me to ask you to ask Leo to take care of him. You know, put in a good word with Leo. Leo listens to you. Not that Leo wouldn't help the Motzah anyway! A guy like Bernie? A square gee like the Motzah! A straight shooter like him? TOM I don't get it, Mink-- MINK What's to get?! It's as plain as the nose-- TOM I thought you were Bluepoint's sycophant. MINK Yeah Tom, that's right. But a guy can have more than one friend, can't he? Not that I'd want Bluepoint to know about it, but a square gee like the Motzah? He's a right guy, Tom! He's a straight shooter! I know he's got a mixed reputation, but for a sheeny he's got a lot a good qualities! Tom has reached the foot of a large staircase. He turns to look at Mink with mild curiosity. TOM Why should I care what happens to Bernie? MINK C'mon Tom, you like Bernie dontcha? TOM I don't like anybody, Mink, you know that. MINK Well, you like his sister. TOM What's that supposed to mean? MINK Nothing, Tom. If it ain't my business I got not a thing to say. Tom studies Mink for a beat. TOM What's going an between you and Bernie? MINK Nothin, Tom! We're just friends-- you know, amigos? He sucks on his cigarette and looks nervously around the floor, then back at Tom, who stares coolly back. TOM You're a fickle boy, Mink. If Bluepoint found out you had another "amigo"--well, I don't peg him for the understanding type. Mink is startled. In a high shrill voice, as Tom walks up the stairs, clutching his drink: MINK Find out!? How would he find out?! Damnit Tom, me and you ain't even been talking! Jesus Tom, damnit, Jesus! INT. LEO'S OFFICE Pulling Tom as he enters the office. LEO (Off) 'Lo, Tom. You know O'Gar... REVERSE Leo faces us from behind his desk. Seated in two chairs facing the desk, twisting around to greet Tom, are two men. O'Gar is a large man wearing a police uniform. Dale Levander wears a suit; a florid man with a shock of white hair, in his mid-sixties. LEO ...and the mayor. TOM I ought to. I voted for him six times last May. Levander chuckles. LEVANDER And that ain't the record, either. Tom is crossing to the bar. LEO Verna turned up. She's downstairs. Tom, his back to Leo as he pours a drink, stiffens. TOM ...She say where she'd been? LEO No, I uh... didn't want to press her. Hear about Rug? Drink in hand, Tom turns and crosses to perch an a corner of Leo's desk. TOM Yeah, R.I.P. LEO They took his hair, Tommy. Jesus that's strange. Why would they do that? TOM Maybe it was Injuns. LEO Eye-ties, more like it. Giovanni Casparro. TOM So you figure it was Caspar bumped Rug? Leo, with a puzzled smile, glances at O'Gar and the mayor, and then back at Tom. LEO ...Well it's pretty obvious ain't it? TOM Mm... So what's the plan? LEO Jump on the guinea hard. With both feet. He looks at the mayor who shifts uncomfortably in his seat. LEO ...Give him the low-down, Dale. MAYOR Yes, well... Leo here has just reminded us that Mr. Caspar operates several clubs in our city wherein the patrons imbibe of rum and play at games of chance. Morosely: O'GAR And we're supposed to stop the party. TOM Uh-huh... Looking at Leo, he jerks his head towards the two men. TOM ...They don't seem too happy about it, Leo. O'GAR Naw, it ain't that, Tom. MAYOR Jesus, Tom! We do as we're told! Tom ignores them. TOM Maybe they're right not to like it. Stirring up this hornets' nest won't be good for anyone. And it'll mean killing. LEO Well I'm not thrilled about it either, but I can't just lay down to Caspar. TOM You could do worse. You might not like it, but giving up Bernie Bernheim is a pretty small price to pay for peace. Business is business and a war's going to hurt everybody. Bernie plays with fire, he's got to deal with the consequences--even if that means he gets bumped off. LEO Sweet Jesus, Tom, that ain't even the point anymore. Caspar popped Rug. The day I back down from a fight, Caspar is welcome to the rackets, this town, and my place at the table. I didn't start this thing, but-- Tom's voice is sharp: TOM You did start it--you and Verna-- The mayor has risen to his feet. Uncomfortably: MAYOR We can dangle, Leo, if you'd prefer. LEO Siddown Dale, we're all friends here. TOM --and Caspar hasn't broken the rules, Bernie has--and you too, by helping him. And if that isn't enough, consider that if you make it a war, you have more to lose than Caspar. Leo is getting up from behind the desk and walking over to stare out the window. LEO Okay, but more to beat him with. Jesus, Tom, the two of us've faced worse odds. TOM But never without reason. It helps to have one. Leo doesn't reply. Tom is irritated, but shrugs indifference. TOM ...Well, it's your call. He gets to his feet and starts for the door. TOM ...My opinion use to count for something around here, but it's always yours to take or leave. Leo has turned from the window and is striding after Tom, gesturing apologetically. LEO Aw, c'mon Tommy. Its not like that... The door clicks shut. LEO ...Goddamnit. Goddamn kid is just like a twist. CUT TO: FAT TONY Tending the downstairs bar as Tom stalks over. TOM Gimme a stiff one. TONY No small talk, huh? They shoot your nag? Tony has finished pouring a shot of whiskey which Tom immediately knocks back. TOM If there's any justice. Verna around? TONY She stepped into the ladies, room. You got Lazarre's five hundred? TOM He'll have to carry me for a few days. Tom is pouring himself another drink. TONY He ain't gonna like that. Couldn't, you get it from Leo? Tom is irritated: TOM It's not Leo's debt. I'll pay my own way. TONY I admire a man of principle. Does this go on the tab? Drink in hand, Tom is already walking away. INT. LADIES' LOUNGE As Tom bangs through the door, still carelessly holding his tumbler of whiskey. A rogue lock of hair hangs down over his forehead. TOM Close your eyes, ladies, I'm coming through. REVERSE The hubbub of female voices evaporates as all turn to look at the male intruder. The lounge's decor is done in various shades of pink. Some of the women apply make-up facing the large bulb- encircled mirrors on overstuffed seashell shaped pink chairs. Other women sit, smoking, in the banquettes that line the other wall. All react to Tom's entrance with surprise mixed with various degrees of outrage, and they hurry to gather their things and leave. The one exception is Verna, who looks at Tom with unperturbed distaste. As he crosses to her seashell chair: TOM Who's the warpaint for? VERNA Go home and dry out. TOM You don't need it for Leo, believe me. He already thinks you're the original Miss Jesus. She glances hurriedly around the lounge, but the last of the women are already leaving. VERNA ...What the hell's the matter with you? TOM What's the matter with you? Afraid people might get the right idea? Verna studies him for a beat. VERNA Leo's got the right idea. I like him, he's honest and he's got a heart. Tom weaves a couple of steps closer to her. TOM Then its true what they say. Opposites attract. VERNA Do me a favor and mind your own business. She turns back to the mirror and starts applying her lipstick. Tom drops down to face her in the mirror. TOM This is my business. Intimidating helpless women is part of what I do. VERNA Then find one and intimidate her. Tom swallows the rest of his drink in one gulp. TOM Leo's upstairs getting ready to shoot himself in the foot on your account. VERNA I don't know what you're talking about. TOM He's gonna go to the mat for your brother. And it's gonna hurt him. VERNA I don't know Leo's business, but he's a big boy. TOM He used to be. Verna pauses with the lipstick. She looks at Tom intently but her tone softens. VERNA Look. What do you want, Tom? You want me to pretend I don't care what happens to Bernie? Well I do. He's my brother and I don't want him to get hurt. If Leo wants to help him out I'll step out with him, show him a good time in return. There's no harm in that. TOM There's a name for that kind of business arrangement. VERNA I'll do what I have to for Bernie and there's no reason for you to try and queer that. Regardless of what you think of me, Bernie's a decent guy. TOM A straight shooter, huh? A square gee? VERNA Yeah, sneer at him like everyone else. Just because he's different. People think he's a degenerate. People think he's scum. Well he's not. TOM Poor misunderstood Bernie. Verna swivels around to stare quizzically at Tom. VERNA ...What is this about? You want me to stop seeing Leo... Why don't you just say so? TOM I want you to quit spinning Leo in circles and pointing him where to go. VERNA I forgot--that's your job, isn't it? TOM I'll do what I have to to protect Leo. I'm asking you--politely, for me--to leave him alone. I don't have to ask. If I told him about our little dance last night, your pull would dry up pretty fast. Now Verna is irritated: VERNA So would yours. I don't like being threatened. TOM I don't like being played for a sucker. That game might work with Leo but it won't work with me. VERNA You think last night was just more campaigning for my brother? TOM I can see the angles... He grabs her by the arm and drags her roughly to her feet. TOM ...And I know if there was a market for little old ladies, you'd have Grandma Bernheim first on line. VERNA (struggling to get out of his grasp) You're a pathetic rumhead. TOM And I love you, Angel. Tom takes her hat off, tosses it onto the chair, and kisses her roughly on the lips. Verna breaks away and socks him on the jaw. Tom staggers back, upsetting a table of toiletries and landing against a banquette. He throws his empty whiskey glass at Verna. She ducks and it smashes into the mirror. They stand staring at each other for a beat, breathing hard. Tom has a smear of lipstick near one side of his mouth. Finally: VERNA ...I suppose you think you've raised hell. She picks up her stole and heads for the door. Tom stands staring at her back, swaying, ever so slightly. TOM Sister, when I've raised hell you'll know it. CUT TO: INT. TOM'S APARTMENT A wide shot, facing the semi-circular windows, the door of the apartment behind us. A large easy chair in the middle foreground faces away from us: a smaller chair is at the window end of the room, facing us. At the cut we hear the ringing of the telephone. Offscreen we can hear the unhurried scrape of a key in the lock, then the door opening, then the door closing. Tom's back enters frame as he strolls into the room and then disappears briefly through an open doorway to the right. We hear an icebox door opening and closing, and then Tom reenters again, still not reacting to the insistently ringing phone. He is now holding a balled-up towel. He walks over to the facing chair at the window end of the room, shrugs off his overcoat, drapes it on the chair, sits, crosses his legs, takes off his hat, tosses it onto the upraised toes of his crossed leg, tilts his head back, and presses the towel against his forehead--apparently it is an icepack. We are beginning to track slowly towards him. After a beat he takes out a cigarette, lights it, and reaches back for the phone that refuses to stop ringing. TOM Yeah... He casually looks forward, just off to one side, at a specific point in space. He does not react to whatever he is hearing. TOM ...I need a couple days... Because I don't have it now... We are almost in close shot now. His gaze is still fixed and emotionless. TOM ...Because I say so... What would be good enough?... Well, if it'll make him feel any better, tell Lazarre he can send someone by to break my legs. I won't squawk. He prongs the earpiece, still looking off. The track has stopped in close shot. He exhales a stream of smoke, then after a beat: TOM ...'Lo, Bernie. REVERSE Slouched in a chair, in the corner of the room, facing Tom, is Bernie Bernheim. He is about thirty and wears his overcoat and hat and a good-natured smile. He holds an apple in one hand and a paring knife in the other. The long peel of the apple corkscrews down off the knife. BERNIE 'Lo, Tom. What's the rumpus? TOM C'mon in, make yourself at home. BERNIE Yeah, you weren't here so I thought I'd do that. Didn't wanna answer the phone, though. Figured it wasn't for me. TOM Uh-huh. After a silent beat, Bernie chuckles. BERNIE ...I get it, get to the point, huh? Okay. The point is: I'm a good guy. TOM I've heard that from a lot of people today. Bernie slices off an apple section and holds it out to Tom, who shakes his head. BERNIE Good guy, lot of friends--that's the way it works. Maybe if you appreciated me a little more, you wouldn't be making waves with Leo. He pops the slice in his mouth. BERNIE It's a bad time to be doing that. I mean, right now we're both in a jam. I hear you're on a bad streak, short of funds, and I've got that psychotic guinea mad at me. Don't ask me why; I'm just a small-timer trying to get by, like everyone else. I need help from my friends. Like Leo. And you. TOM Leo gets your sister, what're you selling me? BERNIE C'mon Tom, its not like that at all. Wasn't my idea. She'll sleep with anyone, you know that. She's even tried to teach me a thing or two about bed artistry. Can you believe that--my own sister! Some crackpot idea about saving me from my friends... Bernie laughs pleasantly. BERNIE She's a sick twist all right. I guess some guys like that. TOM She speaks highly of you. Bernie shrugs. BERNIE Yeah, well, you stick by your family. The point is, I can help you with your debts if that would make us friends. My motto is, a guy can't have too many. Big payday Saturday, Tom. You could be in on it. For the first time, Tom is interested. TOM Another fix? Which fight? BERNIE Well that's confidential at the moment. But it doesn't have to stay that way. Tom gives Bernie a speculative eye. TOM How d'you know about it? Caspar isn't laying any more bets with you. BERNIE Mm. Tom gives a humorless smile. TOM ...You must really have Mink jumping through hoops. Bernie is getting to his feet wiping the knife blade on his coat. BERNIE Like I say, you can't have too many. He pauses at the open door, looks up and down the hall and turns to look at Tom. BERNIE ...We got a deal? TOM ...I'll think about it. On his way out: BERNIE I wouldn't want it any other way. On the click of the door latch we cut to: STREET DAY Pulling Tom along the sidewalk. TOM Cud... He is calling out to a short rail-like man lounging against a building who joins him as he walks. Cud has small sharp features except for one cheek, which is hugely distended by a wad of chewing tobacco. TOM ...My credit still good with you? Cud gives a so-so flutter of his hand. TOM ...Give me a hundred across on Tailor Maid in the third tonight. Cud shakes his head. CUD Lazarre won't like it. TOM Try fifty across. Cud shrugs. CUD I'll try. That'll make another one- fifty you owe him. TOM Only if I lose, Cud. CUD Tommy, the way you're goin'--horses got knees? TOM I dunno. Fetlocks. CUD Well the way you're goin', if I was a horse I'd be down on my fetlocks prayin' you don't bet on me. Another man, a huge man, has walked up to flank Tom's other side. This is Frankie. FRANKIE Drift, small guy. CUD Drop dead, ape. FRANKIE C'mon Tom, my boss wants to see you. He didn't have time to engrave nothin' formal. Cud starts to fade away. CUD I'll see you later, Tommy. I gotta go spit. INT. ROOM It is a large room with a couple of card tables, straight- backed chairs, a ratty sofa--a sparsely furnished card room off the main floor of a club. At the cut we are tracking behind Tom into the room as Frankie and Tic-Tac, a small ferret-faced-man, escort him in. We hear a woman's voice speaking rapid-fire Italian. Bluepoint is sitting on the couch, wearing his overcoat and his hat pushed back an his forehead. Sitting at one of the card tables is Caspar. With him is his wife, a short, very round Italian woman, and his son, Johnny Jr. Johnny Jr., about five years old, is also very round. He wears a suit with short pants that reveal dimpled knees. Bluepoint, an the couch, is watching the domestic scene without any particular warmth. CASPAR Whaddya mean he's eatin' too much? Whadduz the goddamn doctor know? He turns to the little boy. CASPAR ...What you eat for lunch? JOHNNY JR. A hot dog. CASPAR Just a hot dog? The boy shakes his head. JOHNNY JR. A hot dog and mustard. Caspar throws his head back and roars with laughter. CASPAR A hot dog with mustard! A hot dog with mustard! You hear that, Bluepoint! The kids as smart as a whip! Even Uncle Bluepoint thinks that's funny. Bluenpoint's face is a solem mask. CASPAR ...Whadduz the goddamn doctor know! Caspar wipes away tears of mirth and digs in his pocket with his left hand. Extending two closed fists towards the boy: CASPAR ...G'head, which hand is the penny in? The boy touches his right fist. CASPAR ...Choose again. The boy just looks at him. CASPAR ...Okay, here ya go. Take the penny. Shiny new penny. To his wife. CASPAR ...Take the kid. Wait in the car. Give'm a penny, boys. Tic-Tac and Frankie dig in their pockets for change as the boy and his mother cross to the door. FRANKIE I ain't got a penny, boss. Caspar has turned his attention to a check book that lies on the table in front of him. As he writes: CASPAR Ah, well, that's a penny ya owe him. 'Lo Tom, what's the rumpus? You like kids? TOM No. Absently: CASPAR Uh-huh. Have a seat. G'ahead. He tears out the check. CASPAR ...Well, you're missin' out on a complete life. I know, kids, big deal, but still, I'm tellin' ya. He blows on the check. CASPAR ...Anyway... Thanks for comin' by. I just wrote this check out to your bookmaker, Lazarre. It's for an even fifteen hundred, which is more than I hear you owe him but I figure you can always use some money on the cuff, a high roller such as yaself whaddya say? TOM ...Thanks. Caspar laughs. CASPAR Always the yapper, huh? Well, you're welcome. You wanna know why I'm putting you square with Lazarre? TOM Not particularly. CASPAR Bad feeling. It ain't a good thing. It's a poison, kid. I want everybody to be friends. I do this, you're friends with Lazarre, he's friends with you, and you're friends with me. And all you gotta do, show you're a friend, is to give me Bernie Bernheim. You know it's the right thing anyway; I can't keep any discipline if I can't punish the people I need to punish. The Motzah steals from me, I can't have Leo givin' him a shiny new penny... You find some way to make Leo understand that. TOM So the deal is, I give you the Motzah, smooth it over with Leo, and you bail me out with Lazarre. CASPAR Yeah, then we're all friends again: You, me, Leo, Bluepoint. Bluepoint sneers from the couch: BLUEPOINT We can maybe have tea sometime. CASPAR C'mon, Bluepoint. Friends is a mental state. Wuddya say, kid? TOM ...I'll think about it. CASPAR He'll think about it. Hear that, Bluepoint? That's terrific. The kid's a thinker. BLUEPOINT Does he want a pillow for his head? CASPAR Okay kid, think about it. It's a mental state. But make it quick, my family's waitin'. TOM I'll think about it and tell you later. BLUEPOINT He needs to think in the thinking room. Caspar shakes his head sadly. CASPAR Kid, if it'll help you think, you should know that if you don't do this you won't be in any shape to walk outa here. Tom considers this. TOM ...Would that be physically, or just a mental state? Caspar stares at him for a beat, then slowly starts to tear up the check. CASPAR ...That ain't friendly, kid. I make you a nice offer, I get the high hat. He gets up and walks over to the door. Tic-Tac opens it for him and precedes him out. Before following Caspar out the door, Bluepoint grins at Tom. BLUEPOINT Too bad for you, smart guy. He leaves, shutting the door. The room is quiet. Tom looks at Frankie, the large man, who looks back. Frankie stands, takes off his suit coat, and hangs it carefully on a rack by the door. He approaches Tom. TOM Hold it. Frankie complies. Tom is standing and shrugging off his coat. He folds it neatly and turns to lay it on the chair he was in. When he turns around again he is holding the chair and he smashes it into Frankie's face. Frankie staggers back but doesn't drop. He reaches up to his nose and his hand comes away bloody. FRANKIE ...Jesus, Tom. Tom still holds the chair. Frankie looks at him for a moment, then walks over to the door, opens it, and leaves, shutting it behind him. The room is very quiet. Tom stands facing the door, still holding the chair. After a beat or two, he starts to put it down. The door opens and he quickly raises the chair again. Tic-Tac, the little man with the hawk nose, is striding into the room, briskly approaching Tom. Frankie, the gorilla, follows cautiously. Tic-Tac blocks Ton's swing of the chair with his forearm, wraps both arms around it and pulls it away from Tom. As Frankie circles Tom, Tic-Tac tosses the chair across the room. Frankie, now behind Tom, wallops him in the small of the back. The blow sends him staggering towards Tic-Tac, who cracks him in the jaw. Frankie grabs Tom's hair and yanks his head back as Tic-Tac works on his midsection. Tom's hands are reaching back to grope for Frankie. Still holding his hair with one hand, Frankie cuffs Tom awkwardly on the side of the head. Tom staggers around and Tic-Atc, now behind him, also hits him on the side of the head. Tom goes down. His head hits the floor with a thunk. We are on a low angle an the floor. Behind Tom's head, in the background, we see the door to the room. The door splinters in with a loud crash. Frankie's feet are walking up alongside Tom's head, as blue uniforms stream into the room. FRANKIE Just in the nick of time, huh? He brings his foot back to deliver a walloping kick to the back of Tom's head. On the impact we cut to: BLACK Over black we hear the sound of running water. FADE IN TOM Gasping for air as his head is pulled out from under a running faucet. The uniformed policeman who was holding him there and is now pulling him back up, grins at him. COP No harm done. Unless your friend broke his foot. Tom is still woozy. TOM ...Wuzzit... How long... What day is it? COP Friday, 12th of September, 1929. Same as when you left us, about ten seconds ago... He is leading Tom by the arm out of the cramped bathroom, back into the card room where he was beat up. Another cop has Frankie cuffed in a straightbacked chair and is taking roundhouse swings at him. He pauses, breathing heavily. SECOND COP ...'Lo, Tom. Care to skin a knuckle on your playmate here? TOM No... thanks, Delahanty... As Tom and the first cop leave the card room: SECOND COP Well if you change your mind, we'll be interrogatin' for a while... Tom and his escort are emerging onto the casino floor. FIRST COP What was that party about, anyway? TOM We do this every weekend. Blue uniforms are everywhere. Some are escorting tuxedoed patrons and employees to the exit; some wield axes on the gaming equipment; others are using nightsticks to smash the bottles behind the bar. Tom winces at this and lights a cigarette. TOM Jesus... He takes a battle and glass from a table as they walk by. TOM ...What the hell is the matter with you people? FIRST COP Well, they said make it hurt... So we make it hurt. EXT. THE BUILDING We see that the building's facade claims to be SABBATINI'S ANTIQUES AND COLLECTIBLES. Tom weaves across the street with his battle and glass towards O'Gar, the police chief, leaning against a squad car, chewing a toothpick. He is watching morosely as his men load other men into paddywagons; the street is clogged with police vehicles. TOM Drink, O'Gar? O'Gar does not bother to look at Tom as they talk; he is unhappily watching the spectacle. O'GAR I'm on duty. Tom pours himself a glass. TOM To Volstead... He tosses back a shot. TOM ...Any news on Rug? O'GAR Still dead, far as I know. TOM Get a slug out of him? O'GAR Yeah, a .22. Listen, Tom, I'm just the chief around here, so don't bother telling me if you don't happen to feel like it, but what the hell is Leo doing? TOM Ours is not to reason why, friend. O'GAR Balls. Look at this mess. Make him listen to you, Tom. It ain't right, all this fuss over one sheeny. Let Caspar have Bernie--Jesus, what's one Hebrew more or less? He nods at the building. O'GAR ...We're burning our mealticket here. TOM Leo'll do what suits him, and you'll do what he tells you. Last I heard Leo's still running this town. O'GAR He won't be for long if this keeps up. It's no good for anyone--you said as much yourself. TOM First off, O'Gar, I can say what I please to Leo and about him... He taps him on the chest. TOM ...You can't. Second, once Leo decides--that's that. And if that sticks going down, there are plenty of other coppers wouldn't mind being chief, and could swallow it clean. O'Gar looks chastened. O'GAR Jesus, Tom, I was just speculatin' about a hypothesis. I know I don't know nothin'. It's just a damn mess is all-- He is interrupted by gunfire from an upper story of the facing building. O'Gar's men react, finding cover, returning the fire. O'Gar unholsters his gun as he and Tom scramble for cover. O'GAR ...a goddamn mess. HALLWAY We are shooting over Tom's shoulder as he knocks at the door to Verna's apartment. After a beat, Verna opens the door. On seeing who it is she starts to swing the door shut. Tom puts his toe in the doorway and leans into the door. As he pushes his way in: TOM Thanks, don't mind if I do. INT. APARTMENT As Verna gives up and Tom enters. Verna walks over to the phone. As she dials, Tom tosses his hat onto a chair and checks the apartment to see if they're alone. VERNA Hello, officer, I'd like to report an intruder at 346 West-- Tom grabs the phone away from her. TOM Who's this?... 'Lo, Shad, Tom Duchaisne here. We won't be needing any today... That's right, my mother. She didn't recognize me. Lemme talk to Mulvaney. He takes a flask out of his packet and looks across the room towards Verna. TOM ...Miss me? VERNA Drop dead. We hear a voice barking through the line and Tom turns back to the phone. TOM ...'Lo Sean, tell O'Gar to send a car over to Leo's tonight. If we're going to be banging away at Caspar we ought to be ready for him to bang back... Yeah. He hangs up the phone and tips the flask back, draining the last drop. VERNA What do you want? Tom is crossing to the bar. TOM I was in the neighborhood, feeling a little daffy. Thought I'd drop in for an aperitif. He pours himself a drink. TOM ...Rug Daniels is dead. VERNA Gee, that's tough. TOM Don't get hysterical. I've had enough excitement for one night without a dame going all weepy on me. VERNA I barely knew the gentleman. TOM Rug? Bit of a shakedown artist. Not above the occasional grift, but you'd understand that. All in all not a bad guy, if looks, brains and personality don't count. VERNA You better hope they don't. He gives her a sick grin. TOM ...Yeah well, we're none of us the saint I hear your brother is. VERNA Who killed him? TOM Leo thinks Caspar did. VERNA But you know better. TOM I do now. Caspar just tried to buy me into settling his tiff with Leo, which held hardly do if he was waging war. So I figure you killed him, Angel. You or Saint Bernard. VERNA Why would I--or my brother--kill Rug Daniels or anybody else? TOM Rug was following you. He knew about you and me. That wouldn't help your play with Leo, would it? He looks at her. She holds his gaze. VERNA You think I murdered someone. Come on, Tom, you know me a little. TOM Nobody knows anybody--not that well. VERNA You know or you wouldn't be here. TOM Not at all, sugar. I came to hear your side of the story--how horrible Rug was, how he goaded you into it, how he tried to shake you down-- VERNA That's not why you came either. Tom shrugs. TOM Tell me why I came. Verna looks at him. VERNA The oldest reason there is. TOM There are friendlier places to drink. VERNA Why can't you admit it? TOM Admit what? VERNA Admit you don't like me seeing Leo because you're jealous. Admit it isn't all cool calculation with you-- that you've got a heart--even if it's small and feeble and you can't remember the last time you used it. TOM If I'd known we were going to cast our feelings into words I'd have memorized the Song of Solomon. Verna smiles. VERNA ...Maybe that's why I like you, Tom. I've never met anyone made being a sonofabitch such a point of pride. She turns to walk across the room. VERNA ...Though one day you'll pay a price for it. Tom grabs her wrist. TOM Okay, Verna. But until then, let's get stinko. He draws her close. VERNA ...Let's do something else first. She reaches up, takes off his hat, and tosses it casually away. We pan with the hat to where it lands on the floor, in front of a curtained window. TOM (off) Yeah. Let's do plenty. DISSOLVE THROUGH TO ANOTHER WINDOW - NIGHT A living room window, open, its white sheers billowing lazily in the draft. Faintly, from another room in the house, we can hear a phonograph playing John McCormack singing "Danny Boy". At the cut we hear a thump, close by, and briefly the sounds of a struggle. We then hear a breathy, gurgling sound, which quickly subsides. The living room is late-night quiet. The shot is a lateral track, which brings us off the window to an end table in the foreground. On the end table is a pouch of Bull Durham, a package of rolling papers, a cup of coffee with steaming rising off of it, and a section of a newspaper. The draft gently lifts a couple rolling papers off the table. The continuing track takes us off the end table and, booming down, shows us an upset chair and the legs of the man who occupied it. We track along the man's body to discover that he is face- down on the section of newspaper he was reading, blood oozing out of his slit throat onto the newspaper. The continuing track shows that, between the fingers of one outflung hand, a cigarette burns. It is resting on the newspaper. We see the feet of another man who is turning and walking away from the man on the floor, into the background. We pan over to watch him recede, framing out all of the dying man except his outflung hand and cigarette. As the walking man recedes, more and more of his topcoated body crops in. By the time he reaches the house's front door, in the deep background, we can see him full figure. The newspaper in the foreground is crackling into flame. The rug it rests on is beginning to smoke and discolor. As the man in the background opens the front door we jump in: OVER HIS SHOULDER Waiting in the darkness just outside is another man in a topcoat and fedora. He is holding two tommy guns. The men do not exchange words. The man outside hands his partner a tommy gun and follows him as he walks back into the house. Still faint, we continue to hear "Danny Boy". We also hear the lick of flames. VICTROLA The song is louder at the cut. We are in an upstairs bedroom. LEO Stretched out an his bed, wearing a robe over his pajamas, smoking a cigar, listening--but only to the phonograph. Its sound covers any other noise in the house. STAIRWAY A close track on the two pairs of feet climbing the stairs. We see only the feet, the swaying hems of the topcoats and, occasionally dipping into frame, the muzzles of the two tommy guns. BEDROOM Leo, is motionless, looking down, a puzzled expression. HIS POV The floor. Thin smoke is beginning to sift up through the floorboards. STAIRWAY Tracking on the approaching feet. The song grows louder. BEDROOM Leo, looking, slowly taking the cigar from his mouth. BEDROOM DOOR From inside as--CRASH--it is kicked in. LEO Hitting the floor and rolling under the bed. THE TWO GUNMEN Striding into the room. LEO On his belly under the bed, facing the door, swinging a handgun in front of him. HIS POV From floor level, the bottom of the mattress above us, the floorboards stretching away. The bed crops the two gunmen mid-shin as they swing their guns up, firing. RAT-TAT-TAT-TAT--the hems of their coats sway as they fire. The floorboards in front of us are pocked by bullet hits that walk across the floor towards the bed and hit the mattress. The mattress above us dances under the gunfire as ticking sprays down at the floor. Smoke curls up through the floorboards. LEO Jaw clamped on his cigar, he starts firing. HIS POV Blood spurts as one gunman takes a hit in the ankle. He staggers and his tommy gun clatters to the floor. LEO Still firing. HIS POV The other gunman is ducking out the door. The injured gunman pitches forward, head towards us, his hat rolling off. LEO Firing. HIS POV A bullet hit in the top of the fallen man's head. LEO Rolling out from under the bed. He stoops to pick up the dead man's tommy gun. Thick smoke seeps up through the floor. The phonograph plays. Leo ducks through another door. HALLWAY Facing down the length of the dark hallway, towards the mouth of the stairs. As Leo leaps across frame in the foreground, to enter a facing room, muzzle flashes erupt at the end of the hall--where the other gunman has been waiting in the darkness. SECOND ROOM Leo throws open a window. EXT. As Leo rolls out onto the long sloping eave of a front porch. His gun skates down the eave and falls. Leo grabs the rain gutter, hangs by his hands and drops down to the front lawn. The first floor of the house is in flames. From a high angle the camera swoops down on Leo as he picks up the gun and backs away from the house, looking up at the second story. His open robe flaps in the breeze. The dead cigar is still clamped between his teeth. LEO'S POV The second floor window that he just emerged from. Staccato gunfire erupts in the dark room. The strobing gunfire makes a strobing shadow of the gunman, whose back is to us as he rakes the room with fire. LEO Firing, the gun jumping and bucking in his hands. INSIDE THE ROOM The gunman, riddled with bullets and showered with broken glass, spins around, his thompson still firing uncontrol- lably. Bullets dance across the walls and ceiling, blast out the remaining glass and sing harmlessly into the trees outside. BACK TO LEO As we hear the screech of skidding tires. A black coupe takes a curve on the street behind him, machine gun fire spitting out of the back window. Leo turns, in the glow of the fanning flames, walking calmly into the street, firing at the receding car. ON THE CAR Growing smaller, still spitting fire and lead. PULLING LEO Still walking calmly up the street, the gun still bucking in his hands. Bullets whistle by and claw up the pavement around him. BEHIND LEO His robe whips back in the breeze. He fires again and we hear the distant sound of shattering glass. The car weaves, runs up off the road, hits a tree and bursts into flame. A figure emerges from the car and staggers off into the darkness. He is on fire. CLOSE ON LEO As he stops, squinting, raising the gun. HIS POV The burning gunman zig-zagging into the darkness. BACK TO LEO A faint smile curls around the cigar. He drops the muzzle of the gun. LEO Huhh... The shell of the car explodes in a fireball as we: CUT TO UPSTAIRS HALLWAY - SHENANDOAH CLUB The explosion echoes over the cut as we track up the hallway behind Tom and a tall cadaverous man with prematurely white hair. This is Dead Terry McGill. Gunmen of every description line the hallway, lounging against the walls, barely acknowledging the two men. TOM Who's winning? TERRY We are, for the nonce. TOM What's the disposish? TERRY Last night? Four to one. Dana Cudahy went up with the house. TOM And theirs? TERRY One burned. TOM The other three? TERRY Lead. TOM Whose? TERRY Leo's. He is opening the door to admit Tom. In a low, gravelly voice: TERRY ...The old man's still an artist with a thompson. INT. LEO'S OFFICE As Tom enters. Leo is bellowing into the phone: LEO --well find him, goddamnit! Go see if he fell in the john! And get him, over here! He slams down the phone. LEO ...Sonofabitch! No chief! Who's running the goddamned store? Tom goes to the bar to pour himself a drink. TOM Can't raise O'Gar? LEO No, nor the mayor either. TOM Hmm. He takes a sip. TOM ...That's not good. They're running. LEO They wouldn't dare. TOM I don't know, Leo. I warned you not to hit Caspar's club-- LEO I'm still here, ain't I? TOM Caspar's play hurt you anyway. LEO Hah! That sorry sonofabitch just slit his own throat. He just made me decide to step on him-- TOM Listen to me Leo. Last night made you look vulnerable. You don't hold elected office in this town. You run it because people think you run it. Once they stop thinking it, you stop running it. LEO Jesus, Tom, sounds like a bad break for me I wasn't killed. TOM I mean it, Leo. Start taking Caspar seriously. LEO Don't sing me the blues again, Tommy. I need your help. He shoots, we gotta answer-- TOM That's what got you in this mess. LEO I know, I know. Retreat to win. Give up Bernie. That'll solve all our problems. TOM It won't anymore, I'll grant that. Now its either you or Caspar. But going toe-to-toe with a psychopath'll get you nowhere. It'll force everyone to choose sides just when you're looking shaky. LEO The hell I do! TOM Then where's the mayor? Why aren't there any police here? Why weren't there police at your place last night? LEO I didn't ask for any. TOM I did. Leo chuckles. LEO Mother hen, huh? What's the matter, Tommy, you think I can't take care of myself? TOM I know you can't. Here's the smart play, Leo: you lay back, give up Bernie, let Caspar think he's made his point. Wait for him to show you a weakness-- LEO Please, Tom... Tom stares at him. TOM You're sticking on Bernie. Sticking your neck out for a guy who'd chop you off at the heels if there was two bits in it. Leo leans back in his chair, puts his feet up, and gazes out the window. LEO ...Tom, it ain't all as clear-cut as you make it... Bernie's--Well hell, you know about me and Verna... Things now are--not that I haven't been a gentleman, but... I, uh... I plan to ask her to marry me, Tom. There is a long, awkward silence. Leo avoids Tom's look but finally responds to the silence: LEO ...I guess you think that's a bonehead play. TOM Do you think she wants you to? LEO How the hell do I know, Tom?... I think she does... Yeah, 'course she does. I know, I know, you think different but--well, we just differ on that. TOM Leo. Tom takes a deep breath, and exhales. TOM ...Caspar didn't kill Rug. Absently: LEO Course he did. TOM No. Think about it. Just this one time. Who was Rug following? This gets Leo's attention. He turns to look at Tom. LEO ...Huh? TOM It needn't have been that sinister. A strange man, following her down a dark alley, late at night... I've told you, Leo, she can take care of herself. Leo stares at Tom. He seems somewhat dazed. LEO ...Tom, why're you saying that? Christ, Tom. I just told you, I plan to... TOM They pulled a .22 slug out of him. A pop gun, Leo--a woman's gun. LEO ...That's a whiskey dream. Verna wouldn't panic--shoot someone--just because he was following her. He gazes off again, shaking his head. LEO ...No... It wouldn't have happened that way in the first place, and if it had she would have told me... I know you don't like her, Tom, but I trust Verna as much as I trust you. TOM On her account you'll burn the town down. LEO Don't worry, Tom. We'll still be standing when the smoke clears. Tom's tone is gentle: TOM Okay Leo. Then maybe it wasn't that innocent. Maybe Rug knew something she didn't like him knowing, and wouldn't want you to know. He was following her. He knew who she was seeing. He knew where she was sleeping, and who with... Leo has taken his feet off the sill and has turned back to face Tom. He studies him carefully. LEO Maybes don't make it so. Tom's suddenly very earnest, almost beseeching. TOM They're more than maybes. You've trusted me before, and never lost anything by it. Trust me on this. LEO This is too important. TOM I don't ask much, and I don't ask often. Trust me on this. LEO Tommy-- TOM Trust me on this or the hell with you. LEO You don't mean that. TOM ...She was at my place. The night Rug was following her; the night you dropped by. Leo is still staring impassively at Tom. Tom doesn't flinch from his gaze. After a long beat Leo gets up slowly from his chair, walks over to the window, shoves his hands in his pockets and gazes out. For a moment Tom looks at Leo's motionless back, but he has nothing left to say. He rises, plucks his hat from the desk and goes to the door. Before exiting, he looks back. Leo, in long shot, is still gazing out the window. Tom exits. HALLWAY Pulling Tom up the hall. Behind him we can see the door to Leo's office opening and Leo coming out. He strides up the hall after Tom. Tom turns as Leo reaches him. Leo, without breaking stride, seems to walk right into him, throwing a punch that catches Tom on the chin and sends him stumbling back, his hat flying off. The men lining the hall watch with casual interest. Tom staggers into one of the men who catches him. Another man has picked up Tom's hat and now hands it to him. The first man shoves Tom back into the middle of the hall just in time for the approaching Leo to land another punch against his jaw. This blow sends Tom rolling down the staircase, still clutching his hat. Leo is clomping down the stairs; his army of private retainers clomp down behind him. In his shirtsleeves and chomping an unlit cigar, Leo looks like a labor leader taking the rank and file to the barricades. Tom claws himself up the wall to his feet. Leo has reached the floor and still without breaking stride uppercuts Tom with a blow that straightens him up and sends him staggering like a drunk into gamblers in evening dresses and tuxedos. A path clears for Leo and his entourage. He has not slackened his pace, but is also not hurrying. Tom weaves, watching Leo approach, but makes no attempt to defend himself. Leo grabs his own wrist with one hand and swings his elbow up to catch Tom with a sharp blow on the side of his face. Tom spins into a screaming lady in a sequined evening dress and sinks to the floor grabbing at her bodice and skirt for support. She bats at him with her handbag as he slips down. Fat Tony emerges from the crowd and helps Tom to his feet. He raises his hand to stop Leo. TONY Okay, Leo. I'll throw him out. Leo stops, panting. He is looking at Tom, but speaking to to Tony. LEO ...Yeah. Do that... It's the kiss- off. If I never see him again it'll be soon enough. CUT TO TOM'S APARTMENT Wide shot of his living room, facing the windows. It is night. Tom sits with his back to us at the window, feet propped up on the sill. He is smoking a cigarette. A full ashtray on a table at his side indicates that he has been sitting there for some time. We are slowly tracking in. The telephone sits on the the arm of his chair. After a moment he stubs out the cigarette, picks up the phone and dials. TOM ...'Lo Frankie its Tom, how's the flunky business?... I've had worse; your ventilator healing up? Offscreen we hear a knocking at the door to the apartment. Tom ignores it. TOM ...Tell Caspar its already forgotten. I'd like to see him... The knocking continues. TOM ...All right, do what you have to do and let me know. He cradles the phone, lights another cigarette, takes a drag, blows a thoughtful cloud of smoke and turns to face the door. After a beat he rises and leaves frame. THE DOOR As Tom swings it open. Verna stands in the hallway outside. After a wordless beat she moves past him into the apartment. Tom turns and follows her. He walks over to his bar, pours two drinks, then crosses the room to Verna who has seated herself, hands her a drink and sits down in a chair facing hers. VERNA ...It worked, whatever you did; Leo told me we're quits. But you know I didn't have anything to do with Rug. TOM Maybe not... Anyway, that isn't what soured him on you. The thought is bitter but her tone isn't: VERNA Oh, you and me, huh? You always take the long way around to get what you want, don't you Tom... You could have just asked. Tom looks at her. TOM ...What did I want? Verna returns his look, then answers evenly: VERNA Me. After a beat Tom, his eyes still on Verna, brings the glass to his lips and takes a sip. The ice cubes clink. FADE OUT FADE IN THE BEDROOM Tom sits perched on the edge of the bed, smoking a ciga- rette. Verna is in bed behind him. The lamp on the nightstand is burning a faint yellow. The telephone rings. As Tom reaches for it, Verna stirs behind him. TOM Yeah? He reaches over to switch off the light; when he does the room remains illuminated by dull gray light; it is dawn. TOM ...Yeah yeah, when?... Okay. He hangs up, and continues to smoke, staring absently off. VERNA ...You're still up? Tom answers without turning to face her: TOM Yeah. VERNA ...What're you chewing over? TOM ...Remembering something... VERNA What was it? Tom turns to look at her, then turns back and looks out the window. TOM Just a dream. I was walking in the woods, don't know why... The wind came up and blew my hat off... VERNA And you chased it, right? You ran and ran and finally you caught up to it and picked