Scandal Sheet Page #5

- when you come back to work for me?

- You're afraid I'll get drunk and tip the story.

- I'm tapering off, Mark.

- That's fine, Charlie. I'll call you.

Let me work this with you, Mark. I know

this whole district from gutter to rum-heads.

Pete in the pawnshop's

an honored friend of mine.

- Yeah.

- I can get him to work with me and...

- Hello, Charlie!

- Go away.

- Here, Charlie, here's something to count.

- I don't want a handout, Mark.

- I want to work.

- You can pay me later. I'll call you, Charlie.

Mark, let me help...

Hang onto them, Pete.

We'll drop back payday

and look them over again.

Them guys should wear glasses.

They do so much looking,

but never no buying.

Get this for me, Pete.

Taking something out for a change

instead of putting it in, Charlie?

I admit to the novelty of the occasion, Peter.

- Hey, you didn't hock this with me.

- Doing a favor for a friend.

Them cops. You know, if someday

they should buy something from me, I'd...

No, that'd be bad. I'd drop dead.

You know, Charlie, I ought to be

in some other kind of business.

You really meet a very poor class of people

in this business.

Not meaning anything personal,

you understand.

But I'm always dealing with people

who are in trouble,

people who gotta hock something.

People who gotta buy something cheap.

I don't like cheap things.

I never did and I never will.

I should have been big fur man, maybe,

or big jewelry man.

Then I could deal with rich people.

That's the kind of people

I really prefer to deal with.

- Hey! How much is on this ticket?

- Two bucks.

Here, sign here.

You know, sometimes they say

even the rich people aren't happy.

But how that could be, I don't know.

Thank you, Peter.

Thank you for being in business!

Thank you very much.

A shot, Heeney.

You look like your blood pressure's boiling,

Charlie. What's the matter?

The classic irony of the age, Heeney.

Charlie Barnes, a stewbum,

rocking the newspaper world

like he never did in all his sober days.

- Composing.

- Yes, sir.

Yes. Yes, madam,

I have two answers for you.

First, you shouldn't talk

to strange men in bars.

Second, because he asked you to marry him

then hit you with a pretzel dish

when you refused

isn't conclusive proof

he's our Lonely Heart Killer,

but thanks for calling, lady. Bye.

Phony or not,

those tips belong to the police.

When are you going to get rid of the idea

you're wearing an invisible badge?

Julie Allison. Hello, Charlie. How are you?

The Lonely Heart murder?

And you've got to meet me right away.

We have to figure out how to handle this.

I know the killer, and it's dynamite.

Well, Charlie,

that story is really Steve McCleary's.

- I think you'd better talk to...

- No, no, Julie, I want you to have this.

Now I can repay you, Julie child,

for everything.

Julie, this is so... It's so tremendous,

it'll put both of us on top.

What? What, Julie?

Okay, okay, both of you meet me.

Maybe we will need

somebody like McCleary.

Steve, Charlie says

he has information on the murder.

- He's awfully excited about something.

- About two quarts full, probably.

Yeah, Charlie, what's up?

I wanted Julie to have this,

but she insists you be on in it.

I mean you be in on it.

- What's the matter, Charlie?

- No.

- What? You're not sore, are you?

- No, go away!

What? What have I got?

I've got the Lonely Heart Killer for you,

that's what!

Gee, Charlie, that's great.

You getting him crocked so he'll confess?

I haven't got him. I know who he is.

What?

Yes, I'm in a saloon.

I'm in Heeney's. But I'm not drunk.

I've just taken the hottest story

of the century out of hock, and I'm gonna...

He's really flying tonight.

See what your 10 bucks did?

Stop treating him like some

weak-minded child. Listen to what he's got.

- He's not this excited for nothing.

- You know what he's got? The DTs.

Charlie Barnes, tanked to the eyeballs,

says he just took the Lonely Heart

murder solution out of hock.

Hello, Charlie?

Still there? Let's start all over again.

Listen, you mental midget. The only reason

I'm calling the Express is Julie Allison.

Before I'd give this story

to an insolent young pup like you,

I'd take it to the Daily Leader!

Charlie's mad now.

Gonna sell it to the Leader.

- Hang up on the drunken slob.

- Julie? She just left.

I guess we'll just have to read your story

in the Leader tomorrow.

- So long, pal.

- Give me that.

- Hello? Hello?

- Don't be silly, Julie.

He'll just keep you up all night

listening to his fairytales.

- Where was he calling from?

- Bellevue psycho ward, I think he said.

Your 10 bucks.

- Keep this for me, Heeney.

- Why, sure, Charlie.

A couple hours.

One more, Heeney. One for the road.

Hello, Charlie.

Mark. I thought you were still down

at the Bowery.

I hear you got a story, Charlie.

Where'd you hear that?

- Isn't that what you told McCleary?

- Why, I was just schmoozing him, I...

Lining him up for a little touch.

I gave you some money.

What did you do with it?

You didn't, by any chance,

find a pawn ticket

- mixed in with the money, did you, Charlie?

- Pawn ticket? Why, I...

Did you use the money

to get the story out of hock, Charlie?

You've got something that belongs to me.

Where is it?

You were on the way to the Leader

with some evidence.

Where is it, Charlie? Where is it?

It's a wonderful story, isn't it, Charlie?

You wanted to be a big man, Mark.

This will make you famous

beyond your most ambitious dreams.

Great story?

I've waited all my life for a story like this.

Well, you've got it, Charlie.

But you're not going to write it.

You're crazy, Mark.

Twenty years you've covered the news.

Seen the bright boys try this. It never works.

We just heard about Charlie Barnes.

Rotten deal.

It's hard when it's someone like Charlie

you've known for 22 years.

I knew him 25 years.

I never expected to see him

laying on a slab in this place.

Is that right, Doc? Was he found

in an alleyway across from the Daily Leader?

- Steve...

- Yes, that's right.

The Daily Leader. He had a story!

But he was taking your clever,

insolent, fresh-guy advice

- and giving it to the Leader!

- He was drunk, Julie. How could I know...

Charlie Barnes never got so drunk

he didn't know a story!

Or that he'd try to peddle

a phony tip to a newspaper! But you...

You couldn't bother listening to him!

You and that newsprint hero of yours,

Mark Chapman.

You couldn't expect us to believe

that Charlie Barnes

had any real information

on the murder, Julie.

We still don't know that he did.

If you and that stone-hearted, glory seeking,

"I am the great Mark Chapman"

had thrown Charlie

the miserable crumb of respect

of just listening to him, he'd be alive today!

Julie, maybe you're right.

Maybe it is partly my fault Charlie's dead.

I'm sorry. Really sorry. But what can I do?

Don't go soft! Show Chapman

you're a chip off the old block.

Have him give Charlie a fancy funeral.

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