Sam Spade - The Honest Thief Caper - Rehearsal

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Don't say did I say vacancy? Me. Sam, it's you. I'm the folder and in the flesh, honey.

Messages, phone calls, letters, telegrams. Just the usual. I built the landlord and I noticed

from the telephone company. Well, the phones are from the usual. You're not awfully

chipper. Have you been on a case, Tom? Did you make some money? Yes, I've been on a case. No,

I did not make any money. Oh, your client got murdered before he could tell you.

Wrong again. My client was a woman. She did not get murdered and she could pay me.

Huh? And she did. Did she just say she didn't?

Two heavy troll things and I would be seeing. I don't confuse. You just said it.

And I meant a very word of it. Stop registering bewilderment. All. All is paradise.

So, uh, shop in your pencils, straight in your seams, get out your notebook and

prepare to be confounded by the contradictions I shall contradict to you during my report on

the honest feet chaper. I'm not looking over for these things.

Let your load go with many things to do. Uh, yes. You say the strangest things on the phone.

I believe I'd call you Mr, but it was all about an actual misunderstanding. I didn't understand it

myself, but uh, date, uh, uh, uh, Sergeant Frank Nielges, uh, robbery, details,

emphasis, go, police, uh, you're fast today, subject, uh, Ben Kamisky.

Ben Kamisky, C-O-M-I-S-K-I.

I went to Albert High School with a boy named Ben Kamisky.

Did the same one?

Very likely.

Oh, Sam, Sam, did he turn out bad?

Is he good?

Did he get mad?

Down, F-E.

Sam, I need to say I want to know.

This is one mystery you're not going to solve by reading the last chapter first.

Dear Frank, it was one of those days the sky was black and it looked like rain,

but when I put on my trench coat, the sun came out.

At breakfast, it looked like I'd ordered fried eggs and I wound up with pancakes.

Also, I discovered I was wearing one blue sock and one black one.

After that, I gave a cab driver a five instead of a one and letting

ride off of the change and there was one other thing.

Sam, thanks. You're over drawn.

Well, not, sir, if I made a deposit two days ago.

I checked, Sam.

It didn't.

You and that's two.

I made out to slip myself, but oh, give me Sam.

I'll take it right down.

Yeah, better do that, Angel.

Yeah, it shows me.

Oh, oh, can I help you, Miss?

This is Mr. Spade.

Uh, come right in, Miss.

Sit down, uh, uh, Miss Praying, you may go and, uh, do that,

uh, instruct them that if such a mistake occurs again,

I shall take my account elsewhere.

Yes.

I'll, uh, uh, please sit down, Miss, uh...

My name's Louise Norge, Mr. Spade.

I want to hire you.

How much will it cost?

Well, now, Miss Miller, let's, uh, let's talk about it.

I have much time at the state.

I have to be at the office and I have an hour and I have to cost town.

You see, uh, well, Mama thinks I should forget all about him, but I can't.

And I, well, here I've, I've got ninety-five dollars.

Will you play or do something?

Just something?

Come on, now, come on.

I'm sorry.

It's all I know, uh, Goesie.

Let's see, Don, and why does Mama want you to forget him?

Then, then, Komisky.

My, we were going to be married pretty soon.

We even picked out a furniture.

I'm out now.

So, all right, now, come on.

What's he done?

Let me say you held up a store two nights ago that the picnic on the street today is in jail.

Well, if he doesn't, I'm sure I'll find out, huh?

He, he won't even see me, Mrs. Spade.

He, where he won't see anyone.

Then, he's good and kind and sweet, and I love him, and I want to marry him.

I want you to find out why, who, what it's all about.

Luck, Mrs. Miller, I, I think he should be in the office in a good lawyer.

I'm sure.

Every one of you here, he won't even see the public defender.

He doesn't want anything.

Oh, please, please, Mrs. Spade, I just want to die, you've been what's the prisoner.

I just want to die.

I'm, uh, no sentimentalist, but faith is the thing we're a little short on these days,

so we came to terms. It was a great she could pay me after the job was done,

if there was any job to do.

She left for work, and I phoned you with Sergeant Milgis, and found out Ben

Komisky had already been away, and was being held in a city jail.

All right, dropped in 20 minutes later, you walked me back to herself.

What's it all about, Sam?

I don't know, I was just looking into it.

Hey, he won't tell you anything.

Captain's trap shut all the time he's been here, as far as we've been able to find out,

no previous record, no background.

Well, maybe it isn't so bad for him at that, huh?

First degrees, then.

The Kosovo proprietum and named Potter over on Army Street,

identified him in the morning lineup.

Just like that, picking out of the dozen guys we hauled in.

Then what?

He always sent a couple of the boys out to Komisky's room,

and find all the dough and the dresser drawer, 920.

Now what?

If I get easy, Komisky, this is Sam Spade.

He wants to talk to you.

Ben Komisky was tall, dark complexion, about 29 or 30 years old.

His hair was black, straight, and closely cropped.

His features were regular, not good, not bad.

I've seen plenty of hold-up men and gun tutors in my day,

and he wouldn't have been cast in the fight in my movie.

I didn't know what I expected to say to him,

or what I expected him to say to me,

but I didn't expect what I got.

What are you trying to do?

Get out of here.

I mean, just got here, man.

Well, you can just leave.

Hasn't the citizen gotten any rights, even in jail?

Well, they start to lose them, and they use a gun to make a living.

I don't want any lectures.

I haven't got any to hand out.

I'm a private detective, a friend of yours hired me.

She thinks you're a pretty nice guy.

Louis, sir.

Why won't you say it?

She's nuts that you ought to have a head felt.

What's she worrying about, anyway?

I'd say she was worrying mostly about you,

and I'd say it's the sick kind of worry that gets into a girl

when she loves somebody.

She shouldn't.

She's nuts.

You said that, and you robbed that store?

The guy who runs it says I did.

I suppose I did.

Why?

For laughs.

The complaint says you make 65 bucks a week,

and an architect saw this.

You can eat on that.

Look, Speed, go back and tell her this.

I didn't want furniture.

It's $10 a month for the next 80 months.

I didn't want a car the same way.

I didn't want her working in me working

and getting nothing but wrinkles.

Tell her I got caught and to go and find a guy

who can pay the way.

Was that all?

That's enough.

Your child's with arms, robbery, in the first degree.

That means not less than five years.

If I know, it's shut up about it.

Why'd you turn them away?

Hadn't your head spayed?

They're holding up my indictment.

I'm a prized pigeon.

They think maybe I knocked over 10 or 12 other places in town.

There's your shore.

Sure, but don't worry about me.

And tell her we's not to worry about me.

I got a million bucks sold in a way,

and I'm going to buy my way out through the DA's office.

OK.

Have a short way, Ben.

But an hour later, I found myself

strolling on Ben Kamisky's old neighborhood.

A man named Gabreeni, who owned a grocery store,

remembered him and liked him.

A woman in a bakery shop told me how he'd gone into the army

as a private and been discharged the first lieutenant.

A phone call to a Mr. Henderson, a light

architect, revealed that Ben Kamisky was in line

for a raise and promotion.

All in all, I was getting a composite picture

that didn't look quite right.

I decided to try his mother's place.

It was on Lambert Avenue, a street

that starts in the waterfront.

According to the pencil note, above the doorbell,

it is out of order.

The slot on the mailbox read, Mrs. Anastasia Kamisky.

Yes.

What is it, please?

Hey, you're Mrs. Kamisky?

I'm busy now.

I've picked lunch for my son.

He come back from Cincinnati.

Please.

Oh, well, Mrs. Kamisky.

I'm here to talk to you about Ben.

He's your son, too, isn't he?

Yes.

Ben is my son.

Well, I'm trying to help him, Mrs. Kamisky.

Why?

He has no money.

I have no money.

A fine of his.

The way his mother hired me.

Oh, no, she's a foolish girl.

Very foolish.

Her heart should not be with Ben.

I think he's a very lucky man to be loved by somebody like that.

If not for her, Ben would not be in jail in trouble.

Or you don't want to help my son.

She don't want to help him.

She'll leave him alone if she wants to help.

Ben is bad.

Not good like my son, James.

James is always good.

Time's his way.

He sends me money.

When I hear Ben's always been pretty good, too.

Always one good son, one bad son.

What's going on, ma?

Oh, who's this?

Can you come to ask questions about Ben?

Huh?

I'm Jim Kamisky, Ben's brother.

Oh, my.

You're going on in, ma'am.

It's OK.

I'll talk to this gentleman.

All right.

Get out of here.

Look, I'm just trying.

You've got any questions to ask about Ben.

Go to the police.

They can give you all the answers.

And stop bothering my mother.

She's been full enough in the last two days.

If I catch you around her again, I'll break you in half.

The man who slammed the door in my face

I have the same angry look and the same angry glare

of Ben Kamisky.

The angry Kamisky brothers definitely

wanted nothing that looked remotely like hell

that seemed to this casual observer.

I went back in my office to wait the six o'clock.

That's when I intended to call my client,

report my attendants and drop the case.

But it's five thirty, she called me.

Mr. State?

Yeah.

This is Louise Miller.

Oh, yes.

I was just going to call you.

I'm afraid I haven't been able to do much.

It looks like that.

I know, Mr. State.

I just tell a phone downtown.

Ben's seated.

Ben's seated, Jill, if the indictment is asked to know him.

He's going to be sentenced tomorrow.

And that, to all appearances, Sergeant Nilges, was the crop.

But two hours later, and for the second time in one day,

I found myself doing what I didn't think I'd be doing.

Walking around a dull, gray, two-story apartment house

on Adam's place.

My ex-class address, to be exact,

I was wondering what a longly distraught girl would be

thinking the night before a boyfriend

would ship the way to prison.

I found out.

I got a whiff of it as I walked down the hall.

It was coming out from under her door.

I had to use my shoulder.

The room was accurate and stinging with gas fuels.

And Louise Miller was stretched out on a floor

in a six-foot kitchen.

And I picked her up and carried her out.

I wasn't sure whether she was dead or not.

10 seconds after I'd found Louise Miller, I'd called a police

ambulance, and in a matter of minutes, an intern

was working over with a pull motor.

Her breathing became regular, and her pulse picked up,

but she was still unconscious.

Lieutenant Kelsey of homicide showed up

and said it was obviously a suicide attempt,

which is as kind of ingenious thinking I thought not.

If you were going to commit suicide,

you wouldn't have called first to pull me off the cable.

She'd have let an insignificant detail like that

take care of itself.

Now, she was too strong to pity herself,

and too sure of what her intuition told her

to believe even Ben Kamisky's confession.

Well, that kind of faith I owed it to her

to poke around the ashes while they were still hot.

I did, and turned up a live cold in a faded blue shirt

and wrinkled brown pants.

Gert singled me by name, and by vocation,

manager of the Greystone Arms Apartments.

What kind of a girl was she?

Oh, nice, clean, sincere.

The kind mother's always want their sons to marry.

Boy, I wish I'd listen to mine.

Yeah, as you were a boyfriend, Ben Kamisky.

Oh, solved our dirt.

Well, I can't understand him pulling a hold up like that,

but then, you know, the war did strange things to me.

I guess it's been.

Well, I almost stayed in Europe and married myself

up to a French doll myself.

Yeah, but, uh, but Sandra, that's my wife,

you know, hunted me down into bed.

It was easy to come home facing music.

Yeah, well, about Louise, uh,

you know any reason why she might commit suicide?

Thankfully, no.

I met her in a hallway tonight, and she said, Mr. Singled me.

She said, Ben didn't do that hold up,

because I'm pretty sure I know who did.

Well, I think if she'd just keep it up a front,

but if she did really know that Ben didn't do it,

she wouldn't have turned on the gas now, would she?

No, she wouldn't.

Did she tell you who she thought did it?

No, that's all she said.

Quiet, girl.

Not like my wife.

Now, Sam.

Yeah, did you see her here?

Anything that might have been suspicious

around you as well, around her apartment tonight?

Now, look, I don't want to go around

if they can have any home just spread in dirty gossip around.

Well, I said, in ball standards.

Well, it is.

Mr. Singled me, I promise you, sir,

that I'll treat any information you give me

confidentially as long as I can.

All right, I'll listen.

Sam, you're told me not to say anything because it's,

you know, it's a lot easier to rent a suicide apartment

than a murder apartment, you know that?

Of course, I'm a humanitarian.

But if you tell me, but I said this,

I'll, well, I'll just lie about that.

I'll never tell a soul.

Well, we were out of butter, see?

So I had to run down to the store.

Well, when I passed the mailboxes outside,

the guy is standing there.

He asked me, would you pardon?

Oh, he's Miller within, and I said 12V.

Well, he looked like.

Oh, we're seeing our 510 medium bill,

Pam suit, dark shirt, sort of a white brim hat, kind of flashy.

What three or four big rings diamonds they look like?

Three or four big diamond rings on each hand.

It's nice, man.

Why don't you tell our list of the police?

Berk, Berk, who are you talking to?

Don't you dare say a word about that for, girl.

That's why.

That is why.

Send always says, keep your mouth shut and you keep out of trouble.

But me, I don't know, I just love her.

Stop talking to my uncle, don't know.

Yes, Sandra, dear.

I'm closing it.

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The ice man, I've heard about him for years,

a Chicago import, but I'd never bumped into him before.

He'd been headquartering at the Red Spot Cafe,

the kind of a place that Skid Row,

why does it when they want to slump.

It was dark inside, but I strode manfully to the bar.

Yeah, something.

The ice man here?

What do you want him for, huh?

He's a friend of mine.

You're a friend of host.

What are you giving me?

You got bull-written all over you

from the top of your stupid head to the bottom of your flat feet.

He had the tan suit, the flashy rings,

the dark shed and the wide brimmed hat.

He stared at me with eyes that were icy and insulin.

He rubbed the knuckles of one hand

with the palm of the others

if he just ached for a chance to bruise them,

which I was sure he did.

Four guys sonnet over the lead on the piano,

and as ugly as they were,

I knew there wasn't a barbershop for a tet.

Two more left the barns stood behind him

and a few others got up from nearby tables and joined the group.

I should have brought my team, but I hadn't.

You're a friend of mine, huh?

Well, it isn't Claude bettering me,

juvenile delinquent of 1940.

Is that so?

You're a real brain.

Who are you, brainy?

Sam Spade.

Oh, no, I like that a pretty name.

You got some on your mind?

I just wanted to talk with you

about what you did to a girl named Louise Miller tonight.

Never heard of it.

Sounds cute though.

Girls are a lot easier to push around, aren't they, Claude?

Call me ice.

Claude?

Some guys are just as easy as some dames.

What have I been all night tonight, fellas?

Yeah, right.

You heard that Spade I've been here all night.

Any of you guys ever hear of a Louise Miller?

Oh, no.

Sorry, nobody ever heard of this thing.

Well, she has a lot of friends who have the police,

the people none of messy hospital, and me.

And none of us are going to forget it.

Or what happened to her?

And who did it?

Got something you'd like to do right now, maybe?

Yeah.

But I'll pick my time.

All right.

Never this cheap chatter.

I don't want to be seen talking with you too long.

I got my reputation to think about.

Now, blow before I take one hand out of my pocket

and push us, thinking face back through that door.

You'll need both hands, Samson.

Go on yet, quick.

Fellas.

All right.

As I went rapidly through the door, Claude Bettering

was standing, oily, smile, and all,

polishing a couple of his oversized rings on his lapel.

It was a picture I said I wouldn't forget, and I didn't.

I went and rented myself a car,

parked it down the block from the Red Spot Cafe,

and waited almost all night.

I knew that Louise Miller was not the kind of a girl

who would have anything to do with a guy like Bettering.

And if he came to her apartment,

this must have been for some unloving purpose.

Probably to keep her from telling who actually did

the hold-up Den Komisky at Confesto,

if she found out the truth.

Finally, a bunch of pollucas came out,

Bettering included, climbed into a car,

and drove off me after them.

One by one, Bettering dropped his men off at their hotels

and apartments until he was finally alone.

He, uh, started a brownstone on Hobart and I caught him,

just as he opened the door of his apartment.

Well, the top guy.

You're going to find out.

Don't think I'm easy.

And he wasn't easy.

He was three inches shorter and 25 pounds lighter,

and wherever he had picked up his reputation,

but toughness he earned it.

But I never enjoyed a fight in my life,

any more than that one.

I bowed him through his knees and out of a floor,

and he still wouldn't give up.

You thinkin' creep?

How did you pick up Louise Miller?

I didn't.

Why?

I didn't.

Why?

I didn't.

Why?

Your pop-in-house manager identified you.

He's a liar.

Who did you sew with, poor?

Nobody.

Who?

Nobody.

Who?

You thinkin' creep?

I'll place you face it.

Who?

Who?

A push.

Face it.

He went out.

Quite a guy of the ice, man.

I used his phone to call the police

and call him to pick him up for a tenth of murder.

Then with Dawn coming up in my energy going down,

I went back to the city jail, got a pass,

and woke up Ben Komisky.

Why'd I just stop messing around in my business, Spade?

Did you ever really love that girl of yours?

Get out, you sadistic jerk.

Well, she's in a messy hospital now.

You can send a card.

Write something nasty on it.

So long.

Spade.

Yeah?

What?

What's she in a hospital about?

What do you care?

Tell me, please.

Somebody turned on the gas and her a pop-in

and tried to kill her.

It's nothing, really.

Louise.

Who did it?

Who did it, Steve?

I mean, it was a guy named Claude Veterin.

They call him a ice man in certain circles.

But why?

That's what I'd like to know.

Who's Veterin?

I don't know.

Your girl believed your innocent Komisky,

but you said you weren't.

My guess is that somebody figured she knew something

and tried to shut her up.

I think Veterin was hired by somebody.

Spade.

Look, I don't have any dose, see.

But I want to get out of here for one day.

You don't need anybody to raise the bill.

I won't skip, and I'll pay back anything you want.

Why?

I got to see somebody.

I don't think I can.

Who do you want to see?

My lousy, dirty load down no good brother.

He had Veterin?

Who else?

He did everything.

He's always done everything wrong.

He held up that liquor store, but he's unparalleled.

A two-time felony offender.

One more happening.

He'd go up for 20 years.

I did this for him.

Yeah, look at me.

I did it for him, but he tries to kill my girl.

Your mother said he was a good boy.

Hardworking.

Live in Cincinnati.

Me again.

I told her all that.

She believed it.

I started a whole stupid lie and had to go through with it.

I could explain two years, three years to her, but not 20.

You promised he'd go straight.

He promised.

I even set a money I earned and set it was from him.

Oh, you never saw anybody like me before, did you?

No, I haven't.

Get me out.

Get me out, Sam, and I'll drag him in by his back teeth.

I wish anyway, but I'll do it myself.

Stay.

Let me tell it.

Let me do it, please.

I drove over to Mrs. Kamysky's house and knocked on her door.

She came out in a housecoat.

Hair must and sleep still in her eyes.

Yeah.

I'm, uh, side of Bobby at this hour, Mrs. Kamysky,

but is your son home, Jimmy?

Jim, no, he went out last night.

He didn't come back yet.

I see.

Uh, when do you expect him?

Well, he didn't see.

He didn't have to, because I saw a closet door move,

and I was in and across the room.

Just a second.

I pulled the door back, and Jim Kamysky came out, gone and all.

Oh, Jim.

Jim, don't.

Jim, I'm crazy.

She hurried across the room, threw us out between Jimmy and me,

and man started wrestling the gun away from him.

You put one hand flat on her face, and knocked her halfway across the room.

I went at him.

He shot, but it went into the ceiling.

I didn't give him a chance to do it again.

Dog, you held up a liquor store, didn't you?

Yeah.

And hired bettering to kill Louise Miller?

Yeah.

And you're going to take your own rap from now on.

Yeah.

Yeah.

I will.

And he did.

Brilliant.

And the report.

Oh, Sam.

The poor lady.

Yeah.

Yeah, she lived in a dream world,

built by a son who had too much heart, and not enough common sense.

But Sam, that man in the liquor store identified Ben as a whole company.

I only saw the both brothers together.

He realized he'd made a mistake.

At night, with a hat pulled down, and a collar up,

anybody could have confused the Kamysky brothers.

Ben.

Why is the world so cruel?

Because people live, aren't?

Now go on and type it.

Uh, huh?

Right here, I just had.

And if you don't mind my saying, so it's a lesson to everybody.

If you say so, Evan.

On Sam, I'm just insinuating.

Oh, now don't go too far.

It's fine.

This place loves the ocean. Just different ways.

Hand me the glass.

This kind of thing could be going out all over the world.

It's a glass.

It's a different word for people like you.

Step in and take things in hand.

Thank you.

Oh, thank you.

Show you what I say.

Thank you, Miss Brain.

Honestly, Sam, look.

Just honestly, let's go.

Are you finished?

I have some sociological feelings, too.

I'm just not on a matter.

Step Italian, you turn on and off.

Come here.

What are you doing, Chase?

I have feelings.

Effie, I just kissed you.

I know what...

I just kissed you.

Oh, Sam.

Delayed reaction.

Must be the hate.

Good night, Sam.

Good night, sweetheart.

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Agile, tough and relentless with available features like crawl control,

portable JBL speaker, a power lift gate,

so gear goes in fast and the adventure keeps moving.

The Tacoma and Tundra are engineered to endure season after season,

mile after mile.

So drive one home today, visit toyota.com or stop by your local Toyota dealer

to find out more Toyota.

Let's go places.