Angel Heart Page #5

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So the gods got you pregnant?

I understand now. I'm sorry.

I'm not.

It was the best f*** I ever had.

Want to dance?

Here?

Yes, here.

I got bit by a dog this morning,

I can't move around.

You won't feel a thing.

Alright, I'll dance with you.

But you've got to promise.

- What's that? - No chickens!

Alright, I'm coming!

I should've recognised the knock.

At least you got a reason

for sleeping late.

Down here we don't mess with jigaboos.

The colored folks keep to themselves.

I'm not from down here.

- You cut yourself?

Dog bit me.

Somebody called Margaret Krusemark

figure in your missing persons case?

No, why? - She's dead.

That n*gger guitar player of yours,

he didn't matter a sh*t. He was into

voodoo, they 86 each other every week.

But this Krusemark dame, she comes

from a Louisiana money family.

Two people bumped off in a week,

what's the connection?

Similar circumstances!

Did she have her dick cut off too?

- No!

Some f***er cut her heart out,

neat as a butcher.

Look, mine's

a missing persons, it's not a murder.

I want the name of the party you're

looking for. - Talk to the lawyer.

I did. A fancy mouthpiece, gave me the

same big city sh*t as you.

What should I say? Why don't you and

Effie Klinker just f*** off

and leave me alone?

- You ass-wipe!

You play jump rope with Louisiana law

and I'm going to stick

your big city smarts

right up your New York ass.

This Krusemark was into black magic

and all that sh*t.

Nothing is worse for a cop than people

who get killed for nutso reasons.

Sorry about the mess.

Maybe your n*gger can clean it up.

What are you singing?

It's by Johnny Favorite.

My mother used to sing it all the time.

You okay?

Sh*t!

What do you want, Mr. Angel?

I thought you knew.

- Why should I?

Two of your morons with a matching

poodle have been chasing me for days.

I'm looking for Johnny Favorite.

As far as I know,

that dance band scumbag is dead.

That dance band scumbag

probably killed your daughter.

Who is employing you?

- I can't say.

I'll pay.

- So do they.

snatched Favorite from the nut hatch.

You gave a junkie doctor 25 grand to

pretend Johnny was still there.

You did a good job until a week ago.

You used the name Edward Kelley.

Let's go over here. It's a little

private and you can sample our Gumbo.

I've got an acid stomach.

Cajun cooking kills me.

Pity about your stomach!

You'd have enjoyed our Gumbo.

I was Edward Kelley.

It was me who paid Fowler the 25 grand.

Did Favorite know you?

- No.

He acted like a sleep walker. He looked

out of the window at the lights.

Where were you taking him?

- Times Square. New Years Eve, '43.

We dropped him off in the crowd,

and he disappeared forever.

Or so we thought.

You're telling me you paid 25 grand

for a guy and lost him in a crowd?

I did it for my daughter.

Some sort of hocus-pocus she and Johnny

were fooling with. She was obsessed.

I know,

I found a mummified hand in her room.

The hand of glory.

It's supposed to open any lock.

It was the right hand of a murderer, cut

off while his neck was in the noose.

That's what Margaret believed.

Black magic! - Black, white, what's the

difference? Margaret was always...

Evil.

- Evil as a dunghill.

Everyone speaks about someone else.

Margaret wasn't evil.

She was a strange kid! She was into

Tarot cards before she could read.

Who got her started?

- Some maid, or governess, who knows.

Everything you tell me

is a crock of sh*t!

You got her started!

You're a devil worshipper! - The Prince

of Darkness protects the powerful.

Sh*t!

- I can't help if you don't believe it.

Come straight with me, you slime-bag,

or I'll save the state an execution!

I introduced

Johnny Favorite to my daughter.

I watched him conjure up Lucifer in my

home. He was deeper in it than me.

He made a pact with Satan.

He sold his soul.

You expect me to swallow that?

- I don't give a damn!

That's a crock of sh*t,

you lying toad!

He sold his soul for stardom.

- For stardom?

Satan rose from the depths.

But he tried to outwit

the Prince of Darkness.

When he made it big,

he tried to duck out of it.

That's a crock of sh*t!

Johnny found an obscure rite in an

ancient manuscript. He needed a victim.

Someone his own age. - Why?

- To steal their soul.

Toots and Johnny

picked up a young soldier.

Who?

- Just a soldier

celebrating New Year's Eve in New York.

They took him back to Johnny's hotel,

where they had the ceremony.

What ceremony?

The boy was bound naked on a rubber mat,

there were complicated incantations.

A pentacle was branded on his chest.

Margaret gave Johnny a virgin dagger.

He sliced the boy clean open

and ate his heart.

It was still beating

when he wolfed it down.

Johnny wanted to become that soldier.

Before he had worked it out,

he was drafted,

injured and sent home

without even knowing who he was.

Who was the boy?

Only Johnny knew. He put the dog tags

in a vase and gave it to Margaret.

It was Margaret's plan

to drop him off in Times Square.

The last place he remembered

before it happened.

He needed a victim.

Someone his own age.

To steal their soul.

He sliced the boy clean open

and he ate his heart.

Who was the boy?

Johnny wanted to be the soldier.

Maybe he gained the guy's soul,

but he still looked like Johnny to me.

I know who I am!

Alas...

How terrible is wisdom if it brings

no profit to the wise, Johnny.

Louis Cyphre...

"Lucifer!"

Even your name is a dime store joke.

"Mephistopheles" is

such a mouthful in Manhattan, Johnny.

Do you think posing as the devil,

just because it scared

a superstitious old guitar player,

and that witch,

and that nutty old man,

do you think it's going to scare me?

It ain't, because I know who I am.

You killed them,

and you're trying to pin it on me.

I know who I am.

If I had cloven hooves and a tail,

would you be more convinced?

You're crazy.

I know who I am.

You're trying to frame me.

You're trying to frame me.

I know who I am. You murdered them

people! I never killed nobody!

I didn't kill Fowler,

I didn't kill Toots,

and I didn't kill Margaret or Krusemark.

I killed no one.

I'm afraid you did, Johnny.

- My name's not Johnny!

All killed by your own hand.

Guided by me, naturally.

You were doomed from the moment

you slit that young boy in half.

You've been living on borrowed time and

another man's memories for 12 years.

I want to tell Winesap, he knows!

- He's dead.

Nasty accident!

Don't worry, no one will mourn one less

lawyer. Death's everywhere these days.

But what gives

human life its worth, anyway?

Because someone loves it, hates it.

The flesh is weak.

Only the soul is immortal.

And yours belongs to me!

I know who I am.

That's it Johnny, take a good look!

However cleverly you

sneak up on the mirror, your reflection

always looks you straight in the eye.

- I know who I am.

I know who I am!

Why did you come back?

I live here.

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