Dick Tracy

Gangland enforcers broke the arms of|an elderly news dealer this afternoon...

when he refused to share|his week's receipts with them.

Stacks of newspapers|were tossed in the gutter...

as the thugs wrecked the business|and made their getaway.

Lunchtime crowds were paralysed|by the suddenness of the crime.

Not a hand was raised in protest!

Organized crime is their name.

What appeared to be organized hoods|shattered the kneecaps...

of the beloved operator|of a shoeshine parlour today...

as horrified customers looked on.

The bootblack would not|give up his receipts...

and paid dearly for his failure|to surrender to gang demands.

A mother of four, unable to pay|a gambling debt, lies dead tonight.

Gangland thugs left her|to expire in a pool of blood...

as they helped themselves|to the contents of a cash register...

inside the luncheonette.

I was talkin' to them,|at the station house, you know, and|it was the darnedest thing I ever saw.

Oh, yeah? Wow.

Five, no help.|King, no help.

- Aces and eights.|- Twenty.

- Ohh.|- Okay, I'm callin'.

Deuce, still possible.|Six, no help.

Got a pair of aces,|a pair of eights.

Okay, the ace bets.

- Hey, Little Face.|- What's the trouble?

Come on, let's go.|Ace bets five.

- I call.|- Six.|- See ya.

What's that?

Cat.

Ohh. A little kitty.

Hi, little fella.

Let's go.|Ace bets five.

- I'm callin'.|- I'm in.

Six, and a possible straight.

Queen, eight,|pair of eights.

Uh, nine, no help.

- Jack, no help.|- King, no help.

Well, Little Face?

See what you can find.|I wanna leave a little message here.

Calling Dick Tracy!|Calling Dick Tracy!

- Come in, Pat. This is Tracy.|- What is that?

We got five dead men at the 7th Street|Garage, and nobody knows who they are.

You'd better get over here|right away.

I'm on my way.

I'll be back.|I wanna know how it comes out.

- Excu-- Oh, excuse me.|- Ow!|- Sorry.

- Hello, boys.|- Tracy!|- Here, Chief.

- Tracy, are we glad to see you.|- Tracy, whoever they are,|they're all dead.

Five dead men, Tracy,|and we don't even know who they are.

Whoever did it|took their identification,|but they didn't take a dime.

Big Boy Caprice.

- Everything all right, Tracy?|- Fine, fine.

Just a little trouble downtown.

Tracy, they're sayin' that|Big Boy's got the city out of control.

- Is that right?|- And what about this rumour they're|movin' you up to chief of police?

We've already got an excellent|chief of police, Bert. Why don't you|shave off that silly mustache?

- How about runnin' for mayor, Tracy?|- I'm a cop, Charlie.|I don't wanna take a demotion.

- Hey, Tracy--|- Hey, McNally,|I want a copy of that shot.

- They're sayin' Big Boy's|got the city out of control.|- Still can't get anything on him, huh?

Don't let 'em get to you, Tracy.|You'll get Big Boy.

Big Boy's on the street,|and they wanna stick me behind a desk?

They believe in you, Tracy.|They think if you're Chief of Police,|this city'll be safe.

Tess, there's about as much chance of me|gettin' behind a desk as there is of me|gettin' a new girlfriend.

Sooner or later|you're gonna decide

Sooner or later|there's nowhere to hide

Baby, it's time|So why waste it in chatter

Let's settle

The matter

Baby, you're mine on a platter

I always get my man

I'm gonna love you|like nothin' you've known

I'm gonna love you|and you all alone

Sooner is better than later

But, lover

I'll hover

I'll plan

This time|I'm not only getting

I'm holding my

Man

Bad news on the garage, Lips.

They bumped 'em all off.|Our men are getting very nervous.

- Champagne, Miss Mahoney?|- Breathless...

that was beautiful, as always.

I'm so happy you liked it.

- You mind if I leave?|- Why?

- I get sick when you eat.|- You didn't used to.

- You didn't used to be a zeppelin.|- Your devotion is touching.|- Lips!

Lips, it's a raid! It's the cops!

Lips Manlis, you're under arrest|for owning and operating|a gambling establishment.

- Yeah? Where's your warrant?|- Right here. Let's go.

- You too, Breathless.|- I wasn't gamblin', I was singin'.

- Get in the car.|- Flattop.

- These ain't cops!|- Who are they?

Hiya, Lips.|Hiya, Breathless. Let's go.

Even Chief Brandon says you'd make|a wonderful chief of police.

- It's a desk job.|- What's so bad about a desk job anyway?

You think if you sit at a desk|you're playing it safe...

but, Tracy, if you weren't out in the|street every night riskin' your neck,|you could have a wife-- I mean, a life.

Nobody's gonna put Big Boy Caprice|behind bars sittin' behind a desk.

Tracy, you said you were gonna|take a day off tomorrow.

- Huh?|- Hmm?

Come on.

- Tracy, did you say you're gonna--|- Sure, but--

- Hey, kid!|- Hey!|- Hey-- Hey!

- Where you goin'?|- Stop him!|- Take it easy.

- Hey, stop!|- Huh?|- He stole my watch!

- Hey, kid. Hey! Hey, kid!|- Stop that boy! Stop that boy!

C-- Come here.|Did you steal this man's watch?

- Hi, Tess.|- The rest of my party should be|arriving any minute.

Come on, kid.|You're makin' a mistake!

It's only a watch! You don't wanna|get yourself in this kind of trouble!

Hey! What are you tryin' to do?|You're gonna get hurt, kid!

Be careful!|You're gonna get hurt!

- What'd you get?|- Didn't save me no chicken.

Let's see the stuff.

- That's all?|- Yeah.

Hey, tough guy, you wanna try that|on somebody your own size?

Maybe we should step outside.

Okay, tough guy. Now do you want to|give the kid a piece of chicken?

We got a place for people|who beat up kids.

- This cockroach your old man?|- Go suck an egg!

Oh. Look what you did|to your pretty tuxedo.

Big Boy, ain't we pals?

No pals in this business, Lips.|You taught me that.

- Sign it.|- The deed to the Club Ritz?

That's right.|I'm goin' into show business now.

You're dirty, Lips.|You need a bath.

Not the bath. Not the bath.|Big Boy, not the bath!

- Hey. You got a name?|- Kid.

- "Kid"?|- Kid.

What's the name|your mother and father gave you?

- What mother and father?|- Who takes care of you?

Who takes care of you?

This is Moriarty. I'm at|the Southside Warehouse. Do you read me?

Repeat, Moriarty.|You're at the Southside Warehouse?

Right. I don't know who they are,|and I can't see what's goin' on inside.

The car was unmarked--

Big Boy, we're friends! Big Boy, not|the bath! Not the bath! We're friends!

- No!|- I know, and I'm gonna miss ya.

But, "all's fair in love and business."|Benjamin Franklin.

Big Boy. Big Boy, Big Boy. Think about|it, Big Boy. How could you do this?

- You.|- Me?

- How do you want it?|- Want it?

Around me, if a woman don't wear mink,|she don't wear nothin'.

Well, I look good both ways.

Mumbles! Wipe it off.

All right!|Put the word out!

Lips' territory is my territory now!

Everyone who worked for him|is workin' for me.

Everything he owned, I own!

Let's get outta here!|Cover that trapdoor!

I heard you say you love me

You are my lucky charm

With you here on my arm

Well, I gotta call the welfare society.|Hey, Mike, could I use--

- Wait. The what?|- The boys' home.

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