Detective Story Page #10

You're everything you always said

you hated in your own father.

I'm not going to listen anymore.

I'm taking you home now.

What for? So you can drive me

to a lunatic asylum?

Where are you going?

Goodbye, Jim.

- When will I see you?

- Never.

There's nothing doing here.

I'll go down to night court

and see if I can pick up anything there.

- How'd you make out?

- Fine.

- I mean Mary.

- Fine. Dandy.

All right, young lady,

your two minutes are up.

- What's the matter with you?

- Nothing.

- Don't you feel well?

- Yes, sir. I feel all right.

- You better go home.

- I've got a squeal to finish off.

- Brody, finish it off.

- I'd rather do it myself.

You go home. That's an order.

What happened, Jim? What's wrong?

Mary left me.

She'll come back.

No. We're finished.

You drove her away, didn't you? Why?

I tried to warn you, you fool. Why?

I don't know. Why do we do

these things, Joe? Who knows?

I built my whole life

on hating my father...

and all the time he was inside of me,

laughing.

Maybe he was crying.

Poor devil,

maybe he couldn't help himself, either.

Officer, somebody just stole my purse.

- Did you see who did it?

- No, I was walking down the street...

and someone grabbed it

right out of my hand.

It was so crowded I couldn't see him.

- Did you have much money in it?

- About $10.

Let's have a description.

Well, it was about so...

Drop that club. Drop it!

Drop it, Barnes. He's a four-time loser.

He'll kill you.

Rot in jail the rest of my life, I take five

or six of you coppers with me first.

Take it easy.

He can't get by the downstairs desk.

Shut up!

One word, one move, anybody.

I was wondering when

you'd get around to it, Charley.

None of your guff.

Give me that gun.

In the gut you'll get it.

One step, I'm warning you. One!

Easy, Jim. He can't get by the desk.

Jim, don't be a fool.

You dirty, sneaking, evil...

- Come on, baby, I'll get you to bed.

- No, wait a minute.

- Now, Jim.

- Don't pull at me, I...

You got to lie down, Jim.

No. Once I lie down, I'm not getting up.

Get an ambulance, quick.

Never mind a doctor.

Get a priest.

You feel that bad, Jim?

St. Vincent's Rectory.

Get me a drink.

- With a belly wound?

- What difference does it make?

Let him have it.

Don't whisper, Lou. I can hear you.

Sure you can, Jim.

You're gonna be okay,

they can't hurt you.

Give me your hand. Squeeze.

Send a priest over to the 21st.

Harder.

To administer the last rites.

Give me buster's prints.

I don't know, maybe you're right, Lou.

I don't know anymore.

Get me his prints.

Here, Jim.

Joe...

find her.

Ask her to forgive me. And help her.

She needs help.

Sure. Now, take it easy.

Here you are, Jim.

Tear them up, Lou.

Unchain him.

The keys are in my pocket.

There's no case here, Lieutenant.

The complainant withdrew...

Oh, Mary. Mary.

"In the name of the Father and

of the Son and of the Holy Ghost.

"Oh, my God, I am heartily sorry

for having offended Thee...

"and I detest all my sins

because I dread the loss of Heaven...

"and the pains of Hell."

"But most all, for having offended Thee,

my Lord...

"who art all good and

deserving of all my love.

"But I firmly resolve with the help of

Thy Grace, to confess my sins...

"to do penance and to amend my life.

"Amen."

All right, son, go on home.

Don't make a monkey out of me.

If I see you up here again,

I'll kick the guts out of you.

Don't make a monkey out of me.

Don't worry, I won't.

He won't.

All right, go on, get out of here.

Get me the Telegraph Bureau.

- Get this, Harv.

- Notify the Commissioner.

"Detective First Grade, James McLeod,

21st Squad."

District Attorney...

"Shot and killed in the line of duty..."

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