Bugsy Malone by Alan Parker

Author:Alan Parker
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins Publishers

SMOLSKY AND O’DREARY burst through the double swing doors into the Hung Fu Shin Chinese laundry. The steam from the hot water troughs had subsided and there was washing strewn all over the floor. The two cops stayed long enough to take in the empty scene. The place was deserted. Smolsky deduced that wherever the Chinese laundry workers and Dandy Dan’s gang were, it wasn’t here. The two City Hall bloodhounds turned on their heels and scampered out as quickly as they had come in.

The phone rang in Dandy Dan’s living room – rather spoiling the efforts of the smartly-dressed string quartet which bravely struggled through the piece that Dan had insisted they play. In fact, to give him his due, he had been a little more general. “Play it classical, and play it loud”, had been his instructions. He really didn’t know how bad they were.

A hairdresser clipped away at Dandy Dan’s already immaculate head, and teeny slithers of hair floated down like butterfly wings on to the white cloth covering his shoulders. Louella, Dan’s blonde, polo-playing companion – as immaculate as he was – sat in a soft, pink satin dressing gown with mink cuffs. She struggled with an enormous jigsaw that she had seen someone do in a movie. She wasn’t having a great deal of success, as she had only managed to join a few pieces of sky together to form a rather ragged top line. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. She had never claimed to be a genius. When you look as beautiful as she did, nature has a way of making you dumb to redress the balance with the rest of us mortals.

Dan’s ears might not have told him that his lead violinist was off key – but they did tell him that the phone call his butler had just answered was important.

“You’re wanted on the telephone, sir,” murmured Johnson. “A Mr Fat Sam Stacetto.”

Dan got up immediately and walked over to his chromium-plated personal phone. He threw off the white barber’s cloth and revealed a snazzy, neatly-pressed, silver brocade dressing gown. He smoothed down the white silk lapels as he picked up the receiver.

“Hello. This is Dandy Dan speaking.”

In Sam’s office, the red Coca Cola sign in the street outside bled its coloured light across the wall and on to Sam’s face.

“I want to meet you, Dan, to do a little talking.”

“Where?”

“East Chester Park. Fiveways, by the crossroads at Lexburg and Denver. You hearing me?”

“Yeah, I’m hearing you, Sam. No hoods, mind.”

“No hoods. You have my word. Monday, eleven a.m.”

“Just you and a driver.”

“Agreed.”

Dan put down the chromium phone and smoothed his moustache with his forefinger.

“Got him. The knucklehead.”

Sam swivelled in his chair and his huge head blotted out the red Coke sign that breathed in and out behind him. He was pleased.

“Got him, the salami. OK, Knuckles, let’s go and enjoy the show.”

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