Where the Sidewalk Ends

'13th Precinct. Address, 238 Third Avenue.

'Cars 1235, 1236 and 78.

'Signal, 30. Authority, CB. Time, 9.03pm.

'Dispatcher number 79. Car 905, call the dispatcher.

'88, 394. Dispatcher 88.

'73rd Precinct. Address, 171 Herzl Street.

'Cars 1634, 1635 and 89.

'Signal, 32. Auto, out-of-town license plates.

'Operator entered basement of that address.

'Authority, CB. Time, 9.05pm.

'Stations 88, 394. Dispatcher number 79.'

- Hello, Murphy. - You're late for the ceremony.

- Still up in the squad room? - Yeah.

Lieutenant Thomas will be in charge of this precinct...

and no-one else.

So far as you are concerned, he has no superiors.

You'll give him your co-operation...

and your obedience,

and I expect this precinct

to maintain its high record with the department under your new lieutenant.

Do you wish to make any remarks, Lieutenant?

I'll talk to the men individually.

Good idea.

Dixon, I want to talk to you.

- I'll use your office, Thomas. - Yes, sir.

- That's all, boys. - Congratulations.

Good luck, Lieutenant.

Sit down, Dixon.

We've had 12 more legitimate citizen complaints against you this month

for assault and battery.

From who? Hoods, dusters, mugs. Lot of nickel rats.

You're a big disappointment to me, Dixon.

You've just seen a man who started out at the same time you did

take a big step up in the department,

which you'll never do unless you get hold of yourself.

I know what to get hold of, sir: A little more pull.

Sit still!

You've got to learn what's expected of a police officer and what isn't.

Yes, sir. I'll try to learn not to hate hoods so much.

You don't hate hoodlums, you like to beat them up. You get fun out of it.

You like to read about yourself in the newspapers

as the tough cop who isn't afraid to wade in anywhere.

Your job is to detect criminals, not to punish them.

Is that all, sir?

I'm reducing your rank, Dixon. You're going back to second grade.

Any more complaints against you for cruelty or roughhouse

and you'll be back in uniform pounding a beat.

It's no fun telling you this.

You're a good man with a good brain,

but you're no good to the department unless you learn to control yourself.

All right, you can go now.

Thank you, sir, for the advice.

Hey, Willie. Willie!

How you feeling, Willie?

Feeling fine, thanks.

Don't you think you'd better be in bed, Willie?

Parole rules allow me to 12 o'clock. I got 20 minutes yet.

How's Mr Scalise, Willie?

What you tryin' to do, trap me?

I ain't consortin' with questionable characters and nobody can prove I am.

That's a nice boy. You better get to bed, it's good for you.

Sure.

- Who is it? - Willie.

My point. Come on, eight the hard way, two fours.

- Seven the loser. - You're lucky tonight, Mr Morrison.

The little lady brought me luck.

- Your dice, Mr Paine. - Pass.

- Your dice, Mr Morrison. - OK, I'll shoot 3,000.

- I'll take one. - I'll take 500 of it.

I'll take the rest. You're covered.

- Hello. - Care to join our game, Mr Bender?

- Sure, sure. - How are things?

Oh, fine.

Bumped into a couple of old friends of ours, Dixon and Klein.

They asked about you, but I think they're too busy to drop in.

Too bad.

All right, come on, dice! Give it to me, a six. Right back.

Here we go, six!

- Ten. - Ten.

Mr Morrison is from Texas, and very rich.

Here, you breathe on 'em.

Now you got Lady Luck ridin' with you, dice. This is it, a six!

Give it to me!

There it is, a six!

- And getting richer. - Six is my lucky number.

I'll shoot the whole 6,000.

- Are you taking any, gentlemen? - A grand.

Same here.

Four open.

You're covered, Mr Morrison.

I like your friends, Mr Paine. Can't get better action in Amarillo.

All right, dice, now we're going for the big money.

Come on!

What do you know? A seven!

If you don't mind, I'd like to go home, Mr Morrison.

- Morgan. - Ken, I have to be at work at 8.30.

That's right, you can't keep a working girl up all hours.

- Then I'll take you home, Morgan. - We'll all go. I'll get your things.

There y'are.

- Mr Morrison. - Yes, sir?

You're 19 grand into it.

Oh, well, that's all right, you'll get it back some other night.

I ain't Ieavin' town for a week.

Tell him you changed your mind, you wanna stay.

No, Ken, I told you I could only stay until midnight.

- You can't do this to me! - I'm not doing anything to you.

I brought him here.

Oh...

- So that's it. - Yes, that's it!

And you're foulin' me up again. That's all you ever do!

You're telling him to stay.

- No, I'm not. - Why, you...

Morgan!

You heel!

'16th Precinct. Address, 43rd Street Hotel, 372c West 43rd Street.

'Cars 618, 619 and 12, proceed immediately.'

That's us.

- Hello, Sergeant. - Hiya.

- Foley. - Hi, Sarge.

- Dice joint, huh? - Yeah. A floater.

- Get his name? - Morrison. Big barracuda.

He was DOA. Knife cut his heart in half.

Nobody did it, nobody saw it.

There's a cut on his hand.

He hit somebody hard. Who runs this parlour?

Tommy Scalise. He's in there.

So dream boy finally stepped into something, huh?

I've been waiting quite a while.

You should've gone home to bed, Willie, like you were told.

You'd be asleep now, with no parole troubles.

I live in this hotel. I just dropped in for a cigarette.

How do you do, Mr Scalise?

Where did you hide the knife, dream boy?

Go easy, Dixon. Keep your hands off me.

- Talk. - Wise up, Mr Dixon.

You made a monkey of yourself before, trying to hang something on me.

Who killed him, you or one of your playmates?

You find a corpse and right away I'm a killer.

You've been a killer for a long time.

Have I? As I remember it, the jury found me innocent,

and they weren't out more than 15 minutes.

You're still a killer.

Why do you always try to push me in the gutter, Dixon?

I got as much right on the sidewalk as you.

Don't talk to me about rights. You're a hood and a murderer.

You're a pretty smart rat, Scalise, but this is your off night.

Why are you always jumpin' after me?

Four years, jumpin' after me like I was somebody special. Why?

That's right, getting you is a special job of mine.

I can't figure you out. Your father liked me...

Shut up!

- Hello, Lieutenant. - Got anything, Dixon?

I've been waiting to tell you what happened, Lieutenant.

Take them outside. We'll question them later.

Congratulations on your promotion, Lieutenant.

OK, OK. Let's have it.

Mr Morrison was brought here by a fellow named Ken Paine,

sort of an acquaintance of mine.

There was a girl with him, I, uh, didn't quite get her name.

A Morgan something.

Mr Morrison wanted a little friendly play.

- How much did he win? - He didn't win. He lost.

- You're lying, Scalise. - Let's hear his story first, Dixon.

He lost a grand or so, but he didn't care.

He was makin' a play for this girl, showin' his stuff. Paine was jealous.

He hit the girl first, smacked her hard on the face, and she ran out.

Then Morrison tackled Paine.

Morrison pulled a gun, but Paine had him so he couldn't shoot,

and they wrestled into the bedroom.

Before I could call the cops, Paine came out.

He didn't say anything, just left.

Then Morrison came out and fell on the floor.

- He was dead when I got to him. - What did you do with the knife?

There wasn't any weapon.

- Paine must have taken it along. - You're lying, Scalise.

- Let me handle him, Lieutenant. - What is Paine's address?

I don't know.

"K Paine, 58 Pike Street, Chelsea 32099."

Another telephone number: Murray Hill 59970. What's that?

A pool room on Third Avenue.

You won't have any trouble picking him up. He was blind.

All neat and ready with the fall guy, huh? Let me handle him...

Go after Paine, Dixon.

Come on, Paul.

Keep the change.

I-S-O-N. Yeah, Ted Morrison.

Kenneth Paine calling.

Don't answer? Maybe he's in the bar. Have him paged.

But I gotta talk to him, it's important.

Trying to get Ted Morrison on the phone, huh?

Who are you?

Detective Dixon, 16th Squad.

Get out.

Maybe he's trying to win his money back.

Don't give me that. He was cleanin' up.

How much?

And he's gotta cut me in.

After what you did to him?

He started it!

All among friends.