Miller's Crossing

An Original Screenplay By

Joel Coen

and

Ethan Coen





1. 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
embarassed 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.

. . . 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 Bluepoiont Vance.

Caspar (cont'd)
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 backgound.

. . . 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 thir-
ties, 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 imperceptable shrug. The ice cubes in
his glass clink.

Leo turns back to Caspar, pauses.

Leo
. . . Sorry, Caspar. Bernie pays me for protec-
tion.


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 O.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 anga. 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.

. . . 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 ndck.

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 shoul-
der.

Leo and Tom stare at Caspar impasssively.

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 docr, 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 Lea from the open doorway. After a beat he
chuckles.

Caspar
Ats right, Leo, you're the big-shot around here.

He dances over at Tom again, then back to Leo:

. . . 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
Thanxs 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.

. . . 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. Thats why God invented cards.

He pauses in the doorway and turns back to Leo.

. . . 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



2. 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 dissappears.

As we fade out, we hear a distant knocking.


3. 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, revealinq that
Tom is slumped back on a tired green sofa.

A fat hand enters to shake Tom's shoulder.

Voice
Wake up, Tommy.

Without ocening 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's Voice
. . . 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.



4. CUT TO:
A HALLWAY

A loose shot looking over Tom's shoulder as he knocks on an
partment 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 clays 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:



5. 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.


6. 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.

Shiftng 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.

. . . 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.

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 embarassed.

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.

. . . 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.

. . . 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.

. . . 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.


7. 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.

. . . 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.



7. 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 smace, still
looking stunned, still quite dead.

WIDE SHOT THE ALLEY

The dead man and the little bov 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



9. 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.



10. 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.



11. 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.

. . . 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.

. . . You know where you can stick it!



12. CUT TO:
TRACKING SHOT

Pulling Tom as he walks across the gambling floor. He is
joined bv 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 Motzoh
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 sics 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!



13. 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.

. . . 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 sunnosed to stop the party.

Tom
Uh-huh. . .

Looking at Leo, he jerks his head towards the two men.

. . . 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 pooped 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 indif-
ference.

. . . Well, it's your call.

He gets to his feet and starts for the door.

. . . 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 appologetically.

Leo
Aw, c'mon Tommy. Its not like that. . .

The door clicks shut.

. . . Goddamnit. Goddamn kid is just like a
twist.



14. CUT TO:
FAT TONY

Tending the downstairs bar as Tom stalks over.

Tom
Gimme a stiff one.

Tony
No small talk, huh? They shoot vour 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.



15. 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 causes 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 arrange-
ment.

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.

. . . 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 T've raised hell you'll know it.



16. 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 insis-
tently 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. . .