Original subtitles

I was the young man A bachelor I was all alone I

worked at the wheel

victim with Sandy's own gun?

Well, yeah.

Hey, Lieutenant, these guys did a cha -cha on Sandy's head. Why don't you wait

until he's finished before you take his statement? Well, better still, would you

two like to ghostwrite it for him?

Just as I thought, just smell like a distillery.

Exactly.

Tommy Fallon's dead.

He's the best buddy a guy ever had.

Went six rounds with Willie Pepp in the old gardens, you know that? When he was

young, he had the fastest hands in Brownsville.

Okay, we hoisted a few. I was off duty, wasn't I? What the hell kind of an

answer is that? On duty, off duty?

You're fired!

The civilians have been blown away, the Hondos are off and running, and you lost

your hardware.

I lost more than that, Theo.

Hey, Lieutenant, go easy on him, huh?

Easy!

before you Boy Scouts protect him all these years, he wouldn't be in a jackpot

he's in now.

Flopped. 18 years on a force, and those straight arrows stuff him right back in

a bag.

What'd you expect?

Do you really think your testimony would turn the trick with what the shoe flies

dug up? You're lucky you weren't named a co -defendant. Now, Theo, I am not

judging, but the man is an alcoholic.

He was so juiced last Tuesday night, he couldn't even provide a working

description of the guys that whacked his pal.

Frank, he was off duty.

Do you know how many citizens' complaints we've had against Sandy

excessive zeal? How many disciplinary hearings he's finessed?

Shouldn't the plus factor of a man's career be weighed against the evidence?

Why don't you check his arrest record? There aren't ten men in Manhattan who

could top it.

Okay, maybe he's had more than his share of beefs, but nobody's ever accused him

of skimming so much as an egg cream, Frank.

Which is why they didn't just hand him a tin cup and kick him loose.

Ripped out of a uniform, that's a slap on the wrist, I suppose.

No, but at least he didn't lose his pension, Theo.

Look, if he keeps his nose clean in two years, he can pack it in.

I was in Captain Brennan's office up at the old 2 -9 the night he pinned the

gold on Sandy.

The grin on that man's face, you could have lit up Shea Stadium with it.

You know, to take away his patsy and swap it for a patrolman's baton.

You know something, Frank?

It would have been kinder to shoot him on the spot.

Don't take it so hard, Skipper.

It had to happen sooner or later. We both knew that.

Sure we did.

We kid ourselves.

When Lucille died, I climbed into a bottle. I've been receiving my mail

ever since.

Back to rattling door knobs. Ain't that something? Checking the glass just like

some fuzzy -cheeked rookie fresh out of the academy.

Not that I intend to be in harness long enough to lose a crease in my blues.

Maybe I have to have a building fall on me to get the message.

But I got it. I'm off the sauce. I haven't touched a drop of anything

than Tiger's milk since the shooting.

Not to myself, to the force.

I owe this much to that little fella Tommy Fallon.

It was my piece that cut him down, and it's out there somewhere in the city at

this very minute.

Tell him not to retire my gold shield yet.

I'm coming back to pick it up.

Sandy, don't be a chump. That's a sucker's game.

And you're too old to tilt at windmills. You take my advice.

Ghost. Two years. You could phone it in.

I can't do that, Theo. I'm not built that way. I know the odds. But other

have earned a second chance. I still get my smarts, my street contacts, my

stools. A uniform and a foot post doesn't put me in Siberia.

One for the grandstands, that's all I need.

And a PC will have to reinstate me.

See ya.

All right, Sergeant Hearn. Move him out.

Gentlemen, take your posts.

Not you, Officer Beach.

You come along with me.

I know the way, Captain. I ought to.

I've been covering that territory for the last six years.

No doubt.

Nevertheless, we'll do it my way if it's all the same with you.

I believe in speaking my mind, Beach.

Saves time and avoids a lot of future misunderstanding.

I don't like detectives. Never have.

It's the boys in blue who do the scut work while you high kickers hog the

limelight. Puts a big lump in my breakfast oatmeal.

But I'll tell you, hot dog.

One thing in the world I got less use for than a detective, it's an ex

-detective. You receiving me? Loud and clear.

That's good.

Because I wouldn't want to have to taxi to work every morning just to make sure

I get my message across.

You get the notion that thanks to your hooks upstairs you're in on a path and

you can just coop your way to retirement? Forget it. No dogging it in

precinct, mister.

And no showboating either.

and if your years of experience wasn't assigned to an RMP.

You're the CO.

You're a lush.

What do you mean?

Put you in a blue and white with another officer, next thing I know I'm buying

part interest in a funeral wreath. It's your funeral wreath I don't care. It's

your partner's, that's gonna smut.

Now with a foot post, you're on your own.

This beach got the highest crime rate in the precinct.

Turn up bombed, and they'll eat you alive.

Malloy!

This is your relief, Officer Beach.

Get in. I'll haul you to the house.

Hey, Captain, I appreciate our little talk, but don't sweat it on my account.

As a shavetail rookie, I raised my first set of bunions on this mate.

It didn't bury me then, and it's not going to whip me now.

What they got and what they get are two different things.

That's where you come in, old buddy. You're going to fly me off this block.

Me? I'm going to do that in the West, turkey, like me.

Don't jerk my chain, Ozzie.

If I had a nickel for every time you played lookout for some wildcat safe or

knockover, I'd be soaking up the sun in Miami.

I could have reeled you in years ago, but I was trolling for bigger fish.

That don't mean I won't roll over on you now.

I'm so hungry, I'd throw the net over Father Malachy's bingo game.

Hey, baby, I ain't said no dinner.

What do you know about three warehouse boosters?

They were wearing ski masks.

That ring any chimes?

Nut and jingle. But I got a whole lot of no.

Use it.

Five more bills if it comes up cherries.

We've already wasted two men. Yeah, why press our luck? Yeah, right.

Come on, come on.

Hey, Beach.

You okay, Beach? If it's more than you can handle, we can always call out the

tactical squad.

I can manage it fine, Captain. Glad to hear it. It's the commissioner's wedding

anniversary. I'd hate to spoil his day. Take off.

Now listen, you two. We're going to settle this thing once and for all.

You're going to move this around a corner.

Don't tell me be quiet. What do you mean, don't tell me be quiet?

One slug right in the old A .R. The ballistics is doing a trace.

Jack Baker.

A familiar face, tall and sundry.

But how come he's a rigor mortis, Crocker?

A deuce at Greenhaven on a felonious assault.

Back among his peer group less than a month, and here he lies.

Dumped in the wilds of Central Park.

Gives one pause.

It do?

Paperwork, Junior.

A lot of bureaucratic nitpickers are going to be asking why.

Got the answer?

Light on.

He said he'd flip my gifted if I didn't come across.

Listen, you take off, cockroach. If I ever catch your butt on my beat again,

you'll wish your brother were an only child.

Beat it.

Aren't you even going to book him?

If I do that, I have to make out an arrest report.

You got papers for that .38, Mr. Preskey?

Well, that's my point.

Suppose that was figured in the commission of a felony.

Suppose they killed somebody.

Such a bargain. How could I say no?

A gallon of muscatel is all it cost me.

Three times I was held up last year. And you want to protect yourself. I

understand that. Even if I do say so myself.

The next time you get a permit, okay?

And you purchase a handgun through authorized channels.

You better give me that.

Under the circumstances, huh? We'll just say it never happened. Thank you,

officer. Thank you. Now look, this is why now. Are we talking about Bunker

Yacht? Yeah.

In the past, Baker found employment from time to time as an enforcer for these

various loan sharks.

But apparently without ever forming any lasting family ties.

Which means there's a better than even chance he's drifted back into that line

of endeavor following his release from Greenhaven. Yeah, but in a city full of

Shylocks. Where do we begin, Frank, will you tell me? Where do we begin?

Hey, Lieutenant.

What do you want?

Ballistics report on the slug they dug out of Jack Baker. It was fired from

Sandy Beach's 38th.

So they come barreling out that side door there.

And they head on down the alley, and they stop just long enough to get rid of

their masks and such.

And then they all pile into a cab.

And away they went.

And that's all you saw, Bucky, huh? That's all you can remember?

Unless you'd like a license number.

Huh?

Surprise you, huh?

You figured an old monkey's brain's got to be so fickle by now to be doing well

if he put two words together without taking a nap in between, huh?

Well, that's all you know.

Used to be an accountant, Sonny.

Couldn't tell you what day it is, maybe, but I never forget nothing that's got

to do with numbers.

3420TI.

Yeah, that's it.

3420TI. A felony's been committed.

Obviously a holdup, and it's not reported to the police.

Why?

Had to be something pretty heavy, Sonny.

It don't take three hoods to knock over a dentist and an answering service.

Yeah.

You wait for me at Delaney's bar, right?

Yes, sir.

Yeah, do anything for you? Yeah, I'm checking on a report of a disturbance in

one of the offices here. You wouldn't know anything about it, would you, sir?

News to me. Yeah?

Well, thanks anyway.

There's probably some patient screaming bloody murder when the doctor's shutting

the bell.

Buy you a drink, Officer Beach?

Well, I got it. I'm the last of the big -time spenders.

I want you to think, Bucky. Think really hard.

Three of them. You describe them to me.

Were they tall, short, fat, slim, young, old, what?

Young? Yeah.

Yeah, young.

Medium -sized?

Ordinary? I don't know.

So much is going on. Everything is happening so fast.

Would you recognize them again if you saw them?

The one I might.

What? The one I might.

He had a big scar on his hand.

Yeah, this is patrolman Lyle Beach.

D -section, Manhattan South Division.

I need the registered owner of a New York City hack, license number 3420 -EI.

What's that for?

Silence.

What we talked about here never goes no further, you understand?

Now, if word comes back to me that you've been running off with the mouth,

you're going to see a side of my disposition that's not very nice.

Beach!

I just stepped inside for a personal, Captain.

Now, maybe you could cast iron kidneys, but I don't. And if you doubt my word,

whistle up the relief, and I'll trot over to Bellevue for a blood test.

Sure. If I caught you with your hand in the poor box, you'd swear up and down it

was done with mirrors.

I got your number, mister.

One week.

That's all I give you.

Would you mind if I preempt five minutes of that week, Captain?

I want to ask Patrolman Beach a few questions in relation to a homicide

investigation. Far be it from me to impede the wheels of justice,

Go ahead. Take off.

Could have been worse. You could have been married into his family. You know,

every time I turn around, he's taking another look. Theo, I've got hookers on

beat that don't cruise this turf as much as he does.

Homicide, you said?

Tommy Fallon?

Could be related.

Here, Jack Baker.

Any chance that this heist artist might be the guy who blew away your buddy? I

don't honestly know. Why?

He got took off yesterday sometime with your gun.

Baker, huh?

What's his M .O.? The usual goon artist for hire.

But according to his yellow sheet, you know, warehouse heists are not his cup

tea. But in today's depressed labor market, who can tell?

Two stiffs, courtesy of my 38.

Boy, that doesn't butter my chances for reinstatement, does it?

Sorry, Sandy.

But look, if anything breaks, I'll keep you posted, okay?

See ya.

Hey, Ozzie.

What can you tell me about Rogoff?

Rogas?

Superfly Loan Shop.

Dude's got himself a walk -in. Somewhere's on the block.

Deals in lots of trade.

Lower Manhattan Savings and Loan have been there.

You already know? Then what you ask me for?

Because of what I don't know.

Is Jack Baker on Rogas' payroll?

Three kamikazes knocked over your place yesterday morning. They creamed Jack

Baker and swung with a bundle. You move your fanny, you'll find one of them

noshing at the select deli. It's a cab parked outside.

License number 3420TI.

That's your boy.

Forget the ballgame.

You got work to do.

Let's just go somewhere nice and quiet and have ourselves a little chat.

Now!

Who are you?

What do you want?

You make rogues!

This is 7 -2 -3.

10 -4.

Can you talk?

What happened?

Skipper, I wish I knew.

Damn well makes two of us.

Help me.

Mm -hmm.

Now I'm going to have to change the dressing.

Knock it off, will you? Go give somebody a sponge bath or something. I've got

some personal business.

But your shoulder... My shoulder can wait. This won't.

Go on now. Take a stroll.

Take a stroll.

Beat it.

Yeah, it was just a passenger, man.

Cab stops at a red light. This dude jumps in waving a cannon and orders a

to take him uptown. That's all I remember.

Oh.

Well, if that's so, how come this .45 cannon turns up at a backseat with your

prints all over it? And how come, Corky, if you were just a paying passenger,

the meter flag was up instead of down?

What do I know?

You're leaning on a man with a head injury.

Ain't you never heard of amnesia?

I also heard a post -nasal drip. You got that, too?

Maybe I can unscramble your memory.

Corky Cummings, 17 priors, four convictions, widely rumored to be a

button man, a nurse while in force.

Fascinating. Ain't it?

Eh.

But you know what's even more fascinating, Corky? On two previous

were collared in the company of one Jackie Baker, now deceased.

Now, would you care to comment on that, dearly beloved Corky?

On your gravestone. That's where you find my comments, cop.

Naughty boy.

An officer phoned earlier.

Said it was just an unfortunate accident. Such a nice tenant for Mr.

You'd never know from his manners he drove a cab.

Such a terrible thing. I mean, for what possible reason? I don't understand.

Roger Patton lived here for six months, Miss Wessel.

Surely you must know something about his personal life.

Tell you the truth, I don't pay that much attention to my tenants, officer. I

just take a phone call for them now and again. I took one for him last night,

after dinner it was.

Last night from home?

He didn't leave a number. He said Mr. Patton would know where to reach him. It

was Shoe something.

Shulman, Shulberg.

Shuster. That was it.

Shuster.

His clothes are gone, too. I just don't understand it, Lieutenant.

Whatever could have possessed him? A man in his condition... Hey, nothing to

become unglued about. I got bored. I snuck down the rec hall, play a little

pool.

I tell you to toss Patton's pad and what do you come up with?

An address book.

I send you to the fish market, you bring me back a leg of lamb.

I want my money.

I want to see them gunners laid out with pennies on their eyes.

Lots of your dress book.

Not a name in it. You couldn't run for councilman.

Except that one, maybe.

Initials L .S.

Phone listed to a Park Avenue shrink.

Paul Unger.

What's that mean?

What's the connection?

I don't know.

Don't tell me you don't know. Find out.

Patton's dead.

Cop's been burned.

Corky's in the hospital under police guard, and I'm out 100 Gs.

Oh, I want it back.

You hear?

Nobody's gonna hear a bank of mine and live to pile up interest.

Well, I hope you're satisfied.

The wound is bleeding again.

Open.

That's nice.

They should have sent it to Knucklehead.

What happened to your brains?

That slug had been a couple inches to the right. You know they'd be measuring

you for a halo.

Take it easy.

Your little off -duty vaudeville tour is going to win you a commendation.

I can think of more fun -filled ways to earn one.

What's happening on the baker icing?

Making any headway?

Good question.

We've added a fresh wrinkle.

But what it signifies, I'm not sure.

Turns out that goofball we pried out of that cab was the kissing cousin of

Baker's. Oh, that's heavy.

If that's so, the most mind -bending coincidence is my showing up at the

accident. I thought about that. I thought about it a lot.

You know, you and me, we clocked a lot of time between us, right?

And if you had something going, I figured you'd clue me in.

Huh? Something going? Come on, Theo.

I've been beaten, demoted, chewed out, and shot.

I couldn't get something going if you handed me 15 acres of the Las Vegas

There's an incoming call for you, Lieutenant.

I told the switchboard to transfer it to this room.

Go, Jack.

What is it, Fatso?

When was this?

What was that address again?

Any idea on the victim?

Leroy Schuster. I got it. I'm on my way.

Okay. Just caught another homicide. At least we're moving up in class.

This one's on Park Avenue.

This

is

Officer Lyle Beach.

I want to place a call to Sergeant Harry Doyle, Bureau of Criminal

Identification, New York City Police Department. Yeah.

Sandy, I got it.

Schusterly Roy, male Caucasian, 26 years of age, 5 '9 1⁄2", 160 pounds, black

hair, brown eyes, complexion, sallow.

Two GLAs suspended.

He did six months of a one -to -five for armed robbery. Drew dismissed for lack

of evidence last summer in a suspected warehouse heist. Does that do anything

for you?

Yeah, is there anything there about an injured hand?

Nope. Harry, I'll tell you what else you can do for me.

Check on Schuster's all -known associates.

Hang on.

Nathan Markowitz, known associate of Schuster. He sustained an injury to a

in an accident in the machine shop while serving time at Dannemora. He's

currently out on parole.

You got an address on Markowitz?

Sure.

The body was discovered by Dr. Paul Unger. That's him over there, the

dude with the boss necktie. The victim?

Leroy Schuster. Worked for him as a live -in house boy.

Now, according to the doc, nothing seems to be missing. So what the perpetrator

was looking for is wide open to creative speculation.

Now, the doc can't tell us nothing about Schuster because the boy's only working

for him about a week.

Lieutenant, after I tossed the subject's room, look what I found.

Complete set of professional burglar tools. There's 15 -shot 9mm.

Kind of makes you wonder what this guy did on his days off, doesn't it?

That's him.

Get on the horn. I want you to run Schuster's name past BCI and see if they

a flag on it. Yes, sir.

Excuse me. Captain.

I figured you'd rather hear it from me first. Hear what?

It's about Sandy, Theo.

Internal Affairs received a complaint against him alleging police brutality

the mother of some kid he took down with his nightstick. Their investigation has

uncovered a nest of snakes.

And I'm not talking about suspension, Theo. We're talking about the likelihood

of criminal prosecution.

Against Sandy?

For what?

Something to do with failing to report the confiscation of a handgun,

suppression of evidence relating to an armed robbery, bribing a material

to buy his silence.

This is crepe -hanging time, Theo, and the D .A. has his hook in it.

Where are you going?

Now, where the hell do you think I'm going, Frank? Stay away from him, Theo.

He's out of our hands.

It's not your responsibility anymore.

The hell he's not.

package I left with you a couple of days ago.

I'm here to get it. You okay, Sandy?

You look like something's been chewed up and spit out again.

Oh, well, a little bug juice will knock the edge off that.

Oh, no, I don't want anything. Oh, come on now.

Take it. The Mick's buying.

Well, knucklehead.

I need your help.

Hey, man. Are you sick or something?

You don't look too good to me.

The first thing you do is you call the lower Manhattan bank.

You talk to Rogas.

You tell him if he moves his keister.

He can nail the last surviving member of that knockout team by visiting Nate

Markowitz here at the apartment.

You got it? Got it.

You place yourself strategically in a lookout post and fire up that banjo.

Keep on plunking it till Rogar shows.

When the music stops, I'll know he's arrived.

Suppose I can't reach Rogar. When you come back to the apartment, we'll go to

plan B.

He won't come alone, you know.

Yeah, I know that.

Go on.

Lieutenant. Later, Crocker.

Any word on Sandy yet? Well, IAD's ordered a pickup. So far, no sign of

Fool. One for the grandstands, he said.

You're not going to give a year's pay to know what the hell he's up to?

Here's the yellow sheet on Leroy Schuster that you wanted. The BCI just

over. It's crazy.

Sandy Beach called him a little while ago for the same information.

He did what?

Schuster. Sandy wanted to know.

Give me BCI.

The cop and his gat and the leader of the gang that pulled the heist on you.

They're waiting for you. You can get them if you move fast. They're waiting

you now.

All right, troops.

Saddle up.

We just got lucky.

take on Bingo Rogaz, the shape you're in?

He'll make creplock out of you.

Listen, Heath.

Use your head.

I'm sitting on 100K.

You let me walk out of here, I cut you in for half.

If I was on a money trip, I'd have been on the pad 18 years ago.

I want the patsy back, Turkey, and you're gonna pay the freight charges.

Yeah, Lieutenant.

Markowitz.

526 East 81st Street, Department 2C.

Yeah.

Count up two more volunteers, won't you?

It's showtime.

Saberstein! Stop rope!

You recognize it?

The order. It's the piece you lifted off me on the loading dock that night. The

piece that took little Tommy Fallon out of the picture and blew away a punk

named Jack Baker.

Nobody knows you dumped it in the alley.

As far as the rest of the world is concerned, you're still packing it.

So you found your cannon.

So? So this cannon is going to notch another piece.

Another stiff, maybe more.

Rogas, or whoever he dispatches to make a hit on you.

And an off -duty patrolman, Sandy Beach, just happens upon the scene and is

forced to gun down the trigger -happy Nate Markowitz.

Hey, you're crazy.

You know that?

You're out of your loving tree.

Yeah.

I can see how it might look that way from where you sit.

Perfect sense to me, though.

What could be more perfect than the man who was most responsible for me losing

my shield?

She'd help me to regain it.

You, Patton, Leroy Schuster.

Three little nebbishes reaching for the big time.

There ain't one of you could carry Rogar's spit.

Apartment 2C, Markowitz.

Officer Beach is armed and waiting.

Of course, if you were to use the fire escape...

Mercy, mercy, mercy.

You heard the mayor.

Junior, Saperstein?

Get up.

Get up!

Looks like he simply bled to death.

I was there, eh?

Rigsby thinks he has the unknown all sewn up until things go bump in the

Rising damp is at 11 .50. Then Gary's fake ID finally catches up with him in

Goodnight Sweetheart at 12 .25.

That's after Stan and Arthur find solace in DIY.

On the Buses is next.