How are you?
Hello!
Yes, this is Harold Angel.
Yes, initial R, like in the phone book.
Excuse me?
Winesap.
Herman Winesap,
Winesap & Mackintosh?
Hold on a second!
Winesap from Winesap & . . .
Mackintosh. I've got it!
Of course I know what an attorney is.
It's like a lawyer,
only the bills are bigger.
Sure, I'll hold.
Asshole!
Hello, Mr. Winesap? Harold Angel.
Yeah, I could be free.
Would this be with your firm?
Gimme that again.
Louis . . . how do you spell that?
Cyphre . . . okay.
What is it . . . foreign?
Is your client a foreigner?
Mr. Winesap, could you
give me a few more details?
Okay, I know the place.
It's a long way up, but I can be there.
Hallelujah!
Show right now how much you love God!
I want you to show! It's your time!
Open up your hearts
and open up your wallets!
Open your purses!
Open your pockets!
And give it up! Praise the Lord!
Somebody has been talking about me
riding around in a Cadillac.
If you love me and want to give to me,
then I should be in a Rolls-Royce!
Would you come with me, please?
An unfortunate husband
of one of Pastor John's flock
took a gun to his head. Most unpleasant.
Mr. Angel? Please?
Allow me to introduce my client,
Monsieur Louis Cyphre.
Hi, Harry Angel.
- Pleased to meet you, Mr. Angel.
I don't want to appear impolite,
but do you have any l. D.?
- Sure! Here . . .
How's that?
GU N PERM IT
Nothing personal.
I'm a little over-cautious.
You know how these things are.
- I know. So . . .
How did you hear about me?
I guess
you guys just looked in the phone book.
Usually that's what happens. Because
my name is "Angel", it's under "A" . . .
People are lazy.
They see the first name
and . . .
- Johnny Favorite.
Excuse me?
Do you by chance remember
the name Johnny Favorite?
Johnny . . .
No, I don't think so.
You never knew him?
- Am I supposed to?
He was a crooner before the war,
quite famous in his way.
Well, I tell you, Mr. Cyphre . . .
I'm sorry!
I usually don't get involved
in anything very heavy. I usually
handle insurance jobs, divorces,
things of that nature.
If I'm lucky sometimes
I handle people. But I don't know
no crooners
or anybody famous.
- His real name was Liebling.
I don't know any Liebling, either.
What do you want from me?
Does this man owe you money?
- Not quite.
I helped Johnny
at the beginning of his career.
You were like . . . his agent?
No!
Nothing so . . .
Monsieur Cyphre has a contract.
Certain collateral was to be forfeited
in the event of his death.
You're talking about a guy that's dead?
- He was drafted in '43,
North Africa.
"Special Entertainment Services".
There was an attack,
and his head and face was badly injured.
He had . . .
- Amnesia. I think you call it . . .
Shell shock.
- Exactly! - I know how that feels.
Why? Were you in the services?
- I was in for a short time.
But I got a little fucked up.
Excuse me! They shipped me home,
and I missed the whole shebang:
the war, the medals, everything.
I guess you could say I was lucky.
Johnny wasn't so lucky.
He returned home a zombie.
His friends had him transferred
to a private hospital upstate.
There was some sort of
radical psychiatric treatment involved.
His lawyers had
the power of attorney
to pay the bills, things like that.
But you know how it is.
He remained a vegetable, and my
contract was never honored. - I see.
I don't want to sound mercenary.
My only interest in Johnny
is in finding out if he's alive or dead.
Each year my office receives a
signed affidavit confirming
that Johnny Liebling
is indeed among the living.
But last weekend
Monsieur Cyphre and l, just by chance,
were near the clinic in Poughkeepsie.
We decided to check for ourselves,
but we got misleading information.
The run-around!
I didn't want to cause a scene,
I hate any sort of fuss.
I thought, perhaps you could
subtly and in a quiet manner . . .
You want me to check it out.
- Check it out!
I have