The Dark Corner

I suppose you're the blowtorch type.

I can be warm.

(loudly) Good night, Mr Galt.

(loudly) Good night, Kathleen.

See you in the morning. OK, driver.

(footsteps approaching)

Hey.

There's a pepper pot under the hat, buster.

Let's take a walk.

Face the wall.

Legs apart.

Lean against it.

All right, shell out.

(heavy thump)

(Galt) Make nice brass knuckles, don't they?

Brass knucks ain't legal.

I just carry my change the hard way.

All right. Let's play twenty questions.

You answer them correctly,

maybe I won't knock your teeth out.

We'll start easy. What's your racket?

Same as yours. Private dick.

That's the wrong answer.

We don't go on ajob without a licence.

I left it home.

OK. Let me coax you.

I can do it the hard way.

- How long you been shagging me?

- Two days. I was in your pocket all the time.

- Who buys the tickets?

- A client.

I don't know his name. He pays me by mail.

You know I can't tell you his name.

It ain't ethical.

Yeah, sure. You and me both,

we're up to our ears in ethics.

Argh!

What's his name? Who's paying ya?

(choking) Jardine.

Come again?

Anthony Jardine.

What's he look like?

Tall. Yellow hair.

Fancy dresser.

Thinks he's class on a stick.

- Where do you live?

- With my brother-in-law on 23rd Street.

What's his phone number?

(blurts out) Chelsea. 043510.

- (man) Yeah?

- Fred Foss there?

- He ain't here.

- When will he be back?

I don't know. Want me to tell him something?

No.

I catch you shagging me again,

I'll ram these right down your throat.

Here. Get the suit cleaned.

Jardine's particular about neatness.

I keep this. I got a poor memory

for names and numbers.

I may want to look you up again sometime.

Hey. This cab's taken, buddy.

Aww!

Did you lose him?

That's fine.

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