Where the Sidewalk Ends

He lost a grand or so,
but he didn't care.

He was makin' a play for this girl,
showin' his stuff. Paine was jealous.

He hit the girl first, smacked her
hard on the face, and she ran out.

Then Morrison tackled Paine.
Morrison pulled a gun, but Paine
had him so he couldn't shoot,

and they wrestled into the bedroom.
Before I could call the cops,
Paine came out.

He didn't say anything, just left.
Then Morrison came out
and fell on the floor.

- He was dead when I got to him.
- What did you do with the knife?

There wasn't any weapon.
- Paine must have taken it along.
- You're lying, Scalise.

- Let me handle him, Lieutenant.
- What is Paine's address?

I don't know.
"K Paine, 58 Pike Street,
Chelsea 32099."

Another telephone number:
Murray Hill 59970. What's that?

A pool room on Third Avenue.
You won't have any trouble
picking him up. He was blind.

All neat and ready with the fall guy,
huh? Let me handle him...

Go after Paine, Dixon.
Come on, Paul.
Keep the change.