Kiss of Death

Christmas Eve in New York.

A happy time for some people. The lucky ones.

Last-minute shopping, presents for the kids.

Hurry home to light the tree and fill the stockings.

For the lucky ones.

Others aren't so lucky.

Nick Bianco hadn't worked for a year.

He had a record. A prison record.

They say it shouldn't count against you.

But when Nick tried to get a job

the same thing always happened.

"Very sorry."

No prejudice, of course.

But no job either.

So this is how Nick went Christmas shopping for his kids.

Good afternoon.

Don't move. Put your hands behind you.

- Come on. - Well, what about the safe?

We've got enough. Come on.

- Didn't you ring? - Take it easy. I rang.

Anybody out at four? Yeah.

This isn't the lobby, mister.

All right, now, stand back. Stand back.

Everybody stand back. - (CROWD MURMURING)

Everybody stand back.

- (POLICE WHISTLE BLOWS) - (TYRES SCREECH)

The same thing happened twenty years ago to Nick's father.

He died with the policeman's bullet in him.

Nick saw it.

It was one of his earliest memories.

Yeah?

Shelby's here with Nick Bianco. - Okay. Send 'em in. Both of 'em.

Hello, Bianco. How's the leg? All better, huh?

- Yeah. - Sit here.

You know who I am?

- What difference does it make? - Never mind getting fresh, Bianco.

You're the DA.

Assistant. My name is Louis D'Angelo.

Now, let's see what we got here.

''Bianco, Nick. Aged twenty-nine.

"At the age of seventeen, burglary in the first. Plea, guilty.

"Sixty days in the city reformatory.

"Four years later, grand larceny in the first, charged.

"Convicted of grand in the second at the trial.

"Two-and-one-half to five years in Sing Sing.

"Third charge, robbery in the first while armed.

"Witness failed to appear.

"Case dropped."

By the way, how much do witnesses cost on the open market now?

- How should I know? - Do you know why you're here?

I'm supposed to squeal.

I want the names of those three men that were with you on that job.

You know what you're gonna get on this rap? Fifteen years. Maybe twenty.

- Maybe I can help you. - Look, you're wasting your time.

Those records you got there ain't complete.

It should say I was offered a deal by another Assistant DA if I squealed.

I took the full four years.

I'm the same guy now I was then.

Nothing has changed. Nothing.

I wouldn't say that, Nick. Something has changed since then.

Seems to me I saw where the parole officer reported here that

you have two kids.

Two little girls.

That ought to change things a little.

You know, sometimes I think the doctors are right, and that all crooks are crazy.

- Imagine a guy with two little girls... - Shut up!

He don't like that.

How old are they?

You know, I'm always interested in kids.

I...

I have four of my own.

Here.

- Can I take a look at your pictures? - What pictures?

Pictures you got in your inside coat pocket.

- Beautiful kids, Nick. - Yeah, they're cute.

You know, a man's lucky to have kids.

But having a father like you I wouldn't say is very lucky for them.

No, Nick, your kids haven't had much luck.

I'll take care of my family.

My way.

You mean by keeping your mouth shut and going to jail?

You know why you're doing it?

Because you've got that good old hoodlum complex.

No squealing.

Desert your kids. Let 'em starve.

Let your home go to pot.

But don't squeal on some no-good hoodlums who wouldn't turn a finger for you.

- I hate crooks. - Then why are you wasting your time on me?

Because any guy that could have two kids like that isn't a crook.

Crooked, yes. Stupid, yes. On the wrong foot, yes.

But he isn't one of those mugs that don't belong to human society.

Those are two normal, decent little human beings.

- Gimme that! - And no crook could make 'em that sweet.

- No play ball, eh? - No!

You're coming up before Judge Halstead. Do you know him?

Yes.

He'll throw the book at you if you don't cooperate.

No deal.

See you in court, Bianco.

- Attorney for Nick Bianco? - Yep.

This way, please.

- How are you, Nick? - How do you do, Mr Howser?

I'm fine, son. Sit down, sir, sit down.

Well, we meet again, Nick.

Fortunes of war, eh?

I, er... I hear you had a long talk with Mr D'Angelo.

- You don't have to worry. - Good. Good. Your word's all I need.

- Did the boys pay you? - Everything's been taken care of.

Now, er...

I don't want you to expect very much in court.

- We've got no defense at all. - So what do I do?

Nothing. Trust me.

Even when Halstead hits you with the book, stand pat, rely on me.

I begin to work then.

- On the parole? - Yes.

It may take a while, but I'll have you out in no time.

- Did you see the missus? - I talked to her on the phone.

- She'll be in court. - Thanks.

Are the kids all right, do you happen to know?

- They're fine. - Good.

You can rely on me, Nick.

Same goes for me, Mr Howser. Thanks for everything.

Goodbye.

Look at that cheap squirt passing up and down.

What for?

Do they have to keep passing up and down here all the time?

For a nickel, I'd grab him,

stick both thumbs right in his eyes,

hang on till he drops dead.

- You're Nick Bianco, ain't you? - Yeah.

Howser was telling me. You're a big man.

I'm Tommy Udo.

- I've heard of you. - You did, huh? Huh.

Imagine me in on this cheap rap, big man like me.

Picked up just for shoving a guy's ears off his head.

- Traffic ticket stuff. - (KEYS CLANKING)

Hello, Bianco. You got a minute?

I wouldn't give you the skin off a grape.

Gonna be a stiff sentence, Nick.

- You better be set. - I'm set.

You know, I wasn't fooling when I talked with you.

- I liked those pictures you showed me. - Thanks.

I talked with the judge. He'll play ball.

- Well? - No deal.

Okay.

If you should change your mind later on though, let me hear.

Remember my name and get in touch with me.

You know, I'm your insurance policy.

You don't give up, do you?

I usually do.

But I tried a little extra hard this time.

What do you know? I just remembered something.

It's my birthday. Yeah, today.

- Congratulations. - No kidding.

I'll tell you something, big man.

I never spent a birthday with a better guy.

When I heard that you spit in that judge's face

I says to myself, "a buddy", "a stand-up guy".

- You talk too much. - In front of these squirts?

Go on, a couple of dopey cops.

I don't even know they're sitting there.

Come on. Cheer up, big man. It's my birthday party.

We get a free feed tonight.

Ossining. Next stop is Ossining.

Yes. Next stop, Ossining.

Plenty of jobs here.

Even for the unlucky ones.

And no prejudice.

359. 358.

354.

- From the old lady, Nick? - No. I got my own back again.

- That's the second one, ain't it? - Yeah.

She hasn't written for three months.

It says, "Party no longer at this address."

It just doesn't make sense.

Now, take it easy, Nick. Quit stewing.

Everything was all right three months ago.

She wrote and said everything was all right.

Then, all of a sudden...

I've got to find out about it.

You can find out. Ask Chips Cooney. You know him, don't you?

Used to, but how am I gonna ask him?

Well, he's coming up here on a new rap.

The kids.

She knows how I worry about 'em.

She oughta write.

Hey, Nick.

Chips Cooney.

Harry. Get to Chips Cooney.

See if he knows what's happened to my missus.

- She's dead. - Dead? What happened?

I don't know.

There are some things you just don't want to talk about.

I kept away as long as I could.

And then, finally, one Sunday afternoon,

I got the courage and went up to see him.

Take a seat, please, miss.

Send in A-106180.

Check.

Hello, Nick.