know why I took this room.
I can't believe this!
It was a Bambouche. When spirits
possess you, it's called "chevalier."
I know that: Chevrolet.
Chevalier. - That's what I said:
Chevrolet. - Mounted by the gods.
So the gods got you pregnant?
I understand now. I'm sorry.
I'm not.
It was the best fuck I ever had.
Want to dance?
Here?
Yes, here.
I got bit by a dog this morning,
I can't move around.
You won't feel a thing.
Alright, I'll dance with you.
But you've got to promise.
- What's that? - No chickens!
Alright, I'm coming!
I should've recognised the knock.
At least you got a reason
for sleeping late.
Down here we don't mess with jigaboos.
The colored folks keep to themselves.
I'm not from down here.
- You cut yourself?
Dog bit me.
Somebody called Margaret Krusemark
figure in your missing persons case?
No, why? - She's dead.
That nigger guitar player of yours,
he didn't matter a shit. He was into
voodoo, they 86 each other every week.
But this Krusemark dame, she comes
from a Louisiana money family.
Two people bumped off in a week,
what's the connection?
Similar circumstances!
Did she have her dick cut off too?
- No!
Some fucker cut her heart out,
neat as a butcher.
Look, mine's
a missing persons, it's not a murder.
I want the name of the party you're
looking for. - Talk to the lawyer.
I did. A fancy mouthpiece, gave me the
same big city shit as you.
What should I say? Why don't you and
Effie Klinker just fuck off
and leave me alone?
- You ass-wipe!
You play jump rope with Louisiana law
and I'm going to stick
your big city smarts
right up your New York ass.
This Krusemark was into black magic
and all that shit.
Nothing is worse for a cop than people
who get killed for nutso reasons.
Sorry about the mess.
Maybe your nigger can clean it up.
What are you singing?
It's by Johnny Favorite.
My mother used to sing it all the time.
You okay?
Shit!
What do you want, Mr. Angel?
I thought you knew.
- Why should l?
Two of your morons with a matching
poodle have been chasing me for days.
I'm looking for Johnny Favorite.
As far as I know,
that dance band scumbag is dead.
That dance band scumbag
probably killed your daughter.
Who is employing you?
- I can't say.
I'll pay.
- So do they.
1 2 years ago, you and your daughter
snatched Favorite from the nut hatch.
You gave a junkie doctor 25 grand to
pretend Johnny was still there.
You did a good job until a week ago.
You used the name Edward Kelley.
Let's go over here. It's a little
private and you can sample our Gumbo.
I've got an acid stomach.
Cajun cooking kills me.
Pity about your stomach!
You'd have enjoyed our Gumbo.
I was Edward Kelley.
It was me who paid Fowler the 25 grand.
Did Favorite know you?
- No.
He acted like a sleep walker. He looked
out of the window at the lights.
Where were you taking him?
- Times Square. New Years Eve, '43.
We dropped him off in the crowd,
and he disappeared forever.
Or so we thought.
You're telling me you paid 25 grand
for a guy and lost him in a crowd?
I did it for my daughter.
Some sort of hocus-pocus she and Johnny
were fooling with. She was obsessed.
I know,
I found a mummified hand in her room.
The hand of glory.
It's supposed to open any lock.
It was the right hand of a murderer, cut
off while his neck was in the noose.
That's what Margaret believed.
Black magic! - Black, white, what's the
difference? Margaret was always . . .
Evil.
- Evil as a dunghill.
Everyone speaks about someone else.
Margaret wasn't evil.
She was a strange kid! She was into
Tarot cards before she could read.
Who got her started?
- Some maid, or governess, who knows.
Everything you tell me
is a crock of shit!
You got her started!
You're a devil worshipper! - The Prince
of Darkness protects the powerful.
Shit!
- I can't help if you don't believe it.
Come straight with me, you slime-bag,
or I'll save the state an execution!
I introduced
Johnny