Angel Heart

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How are you?

Hello!

Yes, this is Harold Angel.

Yes, initial R, like in the phone book.

Excuse me?

Winesap.

Herman Winesap,

Winesap & Mackintosh?

Hold on a second!

Winesap from Winesap &...

Mackintosh. I've got it!

Of course I know what an attorney is.

It's like a lawyer,

only the bills are bigger.

Sure, I'll hold.

A**hole!

Hello, Mr. Winesap? Harold Angel.

Yeah, I could be free.

Would this be with your firm?

Gimme that again.

Louis... how do you spell that?

Cyphre... okay.

What is it... foreign?

Is your client a foreigner?

Mr. Winesap, could you

give me a few more details?

Okay, I know the place.

It's a long way up, but I can be there.

Hallelujah!

Show right now how much you love God!

I want you to show! It's your time!

Open up your hearts

and open up your wallets!

Open your purses!

Open your pockets!

And give it up! Praise the Lord!

Somebody has been talking about me

riding around in a Cadillac.

If you love me and want to give to me,

then I should be in a Rolls-Royce!

Would you come with me, please?

An unfortunate husband

of one of Pastor John's flock

took a gun to his head. Most unpleasant.

Mr. Angel? Please?

Allow me to introduce my client,

Monsieur Louis Cyphre.

Hi, Harry Angel.

- Pleased to meet you, Mr. Angel.

I don't want to appear impolite,

but do you have any I. D.?

- Sure! Here...

How's that?

GU N PERM I:

Nothing personal.

I'm a little over-cautious.

You know how these things are.

- I know. So...

How did you hear about me?

I guess

you guys just looked in the phone book.

Usually that's what happens. Because

my name is "Angel", it's under "A"...

People are lazy.

They see the first name

and...

- Johnny Favorite.

Excuse me?

Do you by chance remember

the name Johnny Favorite?

Johnny...

No, I don't think so.

You never knew him?

- Am I supposed to?

He was a crooner before the war,

quite famous in his way.

Well, I tell you, Mr. Cyphre...

I'm sorry!

I usually don't get involved

in anything very heavy. I usually

handle insurance jobs, divorces,

things of that nature.

If I'm lucky sometimes

I handle people. But I don't know

no crooners

or anybody famous.

- His real name was Liebling.

I don't know any Liebling, either.

What do you want from me?

Does this man owe you money?

- Not quite.

I helped Johnny

at the beginning of his career.

You were like... his agent?

No!

Nothing so...

Monsieur Cyphre has a contract.

Certain collateral was to be forfeited

in the event of his death.

You're talking about a guy that's dead?

- He was drafted in '43,

North Africa.

"Special Entertainment Services".

There was an attack,

and his head and face was badly injured.

He had...

- Amnesia. I think you call it...

Shell shock.

- Exactly! - I know how that feels.

Why? Were you in the services?

- I was in for a short time.

But I got a little f***ed up.

Excuse me! They shipped me home,

and I missed the whole shebang:

The war, the medals, everything.

I guess you could say I was lucky.

Johnny wasn't so lucky.

He returned home a zombie.

His friends had him transferred

to a private hospital upstate.

There was some sort of

radical psychiatric treatment involved.

His lawyers had

the power of attorney

to pay the bills, things like that.

But you know how it is.

He remained a vegetable, and my

contract was never honored. - I see.

I don't want to sound mercenary.

My only interest in Johnny

is in finding out if he's alive or dead.

Each year my office receives a

signed affidavit confirming

that Johnny Liebling

is indeed among the living.

But last weekend

Monsieur Cyphre and I, just by chance,

were near the clinic in Poughkeepsie.

We decided to check for ourselves,

but we got misleading information.

The run-around!

I didn't want to cause a scene,

I hate any sort of fuss.

I thought, perhaps you could

subtly and in a quiet manner...

You want me to check it out.

- Check it out!

I have a feeling I've met you before.

I don't know, I don't think so.

Do you remember

the name Johnny Favorite?

His real name was Liebling.

My only interest in Johnny

is in finding out if he's alive or dead.

May I help you?

- My name is Harry Conroy

from the National Institute of Health.

Is there

anyone in particular you want to see?

The Institute is conducting a survey

of incurable trauma cases.

I understand you have a patient here

fitting that description?

We can't let you see anyone

without an appointment.

I appreciate that,

but maybe you could check the files

and make sure I'm on the right track.

I don't want to bother anybody

unnecessarily.

Okay? Thank you.

What's the name of the patient?

- Liebling, Jonathan Liebling.

One moment please, I'll check.

Were you working here last weekend?

No, day off.

- Did you do anything nice?

My sister's wedding.

We did have a Mr. Liebling,

but he was transferred.

You sure?

- That's what it says.

And when was that?

- Years ago, in December '43.

May I take a look at this? Thanks.

Is this recent?

It's an old file.

- It's in ballpoint!

They weren't big on ballpoint in '43.

Is that ballpoint?

Well, I'll be!

They didn't have ballpoints back then?

No.

This here

Dr. Fowler,

does he still work here?

- Just part-time, he's old.

Thank you.

Time for your evening fix?

Who are you?

How did you get in here?

Through the mailslot.

I'm a private detective.

Breaking and entering is a crime,

whoever or whatever you are.

- Hey man, call the police!

Which you won't do in case

they discover your opium den

in the icebox!

I'm a doctor. I'm perfectly entitled

to keep pharmaceuticals at home.

Tell it to somebody else!

We're not talking about a Band-Aid

or a tube of unguent. How long you

been hooked? - What do you want?

Information about Johnny Liebling.

I treated a patient

of that name many years ago.

I'm not fooling around.

Either you give me some answers

or I'll call the police myself.

I've seen the works cooking upstairs,

and it ain't Mr. Salk's vaccine.

He was an entertainer

during the war, a neuro case.

No chance of recovery, so I transferred

him to a V.A. Hospital in Albany.

I hate to shake you up,

but I checked, and he's not there.

You faked the transfer.

Because he recently had a visitor,

the first in 12 years.

Popular guy, eh?

Where is he now?

- I don't know... - Come here!

I haven't seen him

since he was a patient here.

You're in a cold sweat! Look at you!

You can't wait for me to leave

so you can raid the icebox.

The sooner you get out with it,

the sooner you can shoot up.

I'll ask you again: Where is he?

I don't know.

Some people came one night years ago.

He got in the car with them and left.

He got into a car?

I thought this guy was a vegetable.

At first he was in a coma

but he quickly recovered.

But he still suffered from amnesia.

The friends.

Who were the friends?

- His name was Kelley, Edward Kelley.

The young lady I don't know.

She stayed in the car.

Where did they take him? - Down South.

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