분야
hwp I remember you as a noisy little
fellow, son. All of a sudden, you get quiet.
Is your book of answers lost,
or are you waiting for your lawyer?
Maybe you dont think
murder looks good on you.
- Maybe I didnt do it.
- Maybe he didnt do it.
Look, Marlowe, were arraigning you.
We dont like you, but it aint personal.
We just follow a routine after a killing.
Wheres Randall?
He asked us to talk to you, if thats okay.
- Is he holding the kid?
- I wouldnt know.
- Is she all right?
- I wouldnt know that either.
- Where did you see her last?
- I forget.
- How do you feel?
- Like a duck in a shooting gallery.
- Cigarette?
- Yeah. Thanks.
Want to make a statement?
Boys tell me I did a couple of murders.
Anything in it?
You got a rope under my ears?
I think you better let me have it.
Ill have to hold it on you,
but I think you better let me have it.
Okay, Dowling. Bring in your notebook.
Were all set.
- The works?
- Yeah.
Some of it you know. If I misquote you...
Lets get it on the record,
from the beginning.
With Malloy, then.
It was about : . Anyway, it was dark.
- Why were you at the office that late?
- Im a homing pigeon.
I always come back to the stinking coop
no matter how late it is.
Id been peeking
under old Sunday sections...
for a barber named Dominic
whose wife wanted him back. I forget why.
I only took the job because my bank
account was trying to crawl under a duck.
And I never found him.
I just found out all over again
how big this city is.
My feet hurt.
And my mind
felt like a plumbers handkerchief.
The office bottle hadnt sparked me up...
so Id taken out my little black book
and decided to go grouse hunting.
Nothing like soft shoulders
to improve my morale.
The soft shoulders had a date,
but she thought she could fix that...
and was going to check right back.
Theres something about the dead silence
of an office building at night...
Not quite real.
The traffic down below was something
that didnt have anything to do with me.
I seen your name
on the blackboard downstairs.
Yeah?
I come up to see you.
Youre a private eye?
Thats right.
Id like you to look for somebody.
Im closed up, pal. Come around
tomorrow, and well talk about it.
I looked for her where she worked...
but Ive been out of touch.
Okay. Tomorrow.
Id like to show you where she worked.
Okay. You show me where she worked.
This way.
The joint looked like trouble,
but that didnt bother me.
Nothing bothered me.
The two twenties felt nice and snug
against my appendix.
I tried to picture him in love
with somebody, but it didnt work.
They changed it a lot.
There was a stage where she worked,
and some booths.
Pink flowers was in the slatwork.
She was cute as lace pants.
A redhead.
Eight years since I seen her.
Six she didnt write,
but shell have a reason.
- Whats she do, sing?
- Yeah.
Lets you and me go up
and nibble a couple.
Boss.
- Whiskey. Call yours.
- Whiskey.
You never heard of Velma?
Look, Joe, Im sorry about your girl.
And I know how you feel,
but she aint here.
No girls been here
since I owned this place.
No show. No noise.
I got a reputation for no trouble.
She used to work here.
You ask him about Velma.
Weve been over all that. Drink up, Joe.
You remember Velma?
Ill have to request
you dont bother the customers.
So far you rate me polite?
I dont bother you none.
Some guys has the wrong ideas
when to get fancy.
Whiskey.
Come on. Eight years is a lot of gin.
They dont remember Velma.
- Who asked you to stick your face in?
- You did. Remember me?
Im the guy who came in with you, chunky.
Moose. The name is Moose.
On account of Im large.
- Moose Malloy. You heard of me, maybe?
- Maybe.
They changed it a lot.
There was a stage
where she worked and some booths.
You said that.
Im beginning not to like it here.
- Maybe I told you too much.
- No.
- We was to be married.
- What happened?
Where do you figure Ive been away
those eight years?
Catching butterflies.
I put away a few grand before I went up.
- You been in the caboose ever?
- Just a couple of overnight stops.
Okay. You find Velma.
- She got a last name?
- Velma. Velma Valento.
- How will I get in touch with you?
- I get in touch with you.
I spent a buck in another bar
for some history.
Mike Florian ran the joint until .
He died in
in the middle of a glass of beer.
His wife Jessie finished it for him.
Tracing her was easy. I could do that.
A bright third grader
could have done it, but not Malloy.
He needed a private detective.
She was a charming middle-aged lady
with a face like a bucket of mud.
I gave her a drink.
She was a gal whod take a drink...
if she had to knock you down
to get the bottle.
That liquors been keeping
the right company all right.
Just hold it careful, mister.
This aint no time to drop anything.
What was it we was talking about?
The red-headed girl named Velma Valento.
Used to work in your husbands place
on Central Avenue.
Who was it you said you was, mister?
There.
A private cop.
You didnt say that, mister...
but I knew you wasnt no regular cop.
No re
