Bert    Supposed to mean? It ain’t ‘supposed’ to mean anything. It means I got your card marked, OK, Ray?

Raymond pauses, turns and looks over at Bert.

Raymond    . . . I never . . . suicide . . . there was just no need for it.

Bert    They’ll investigate.

Raymond    They don’t investigate suicide.

Bert    Not what it was, Ray, the cause of it. They’ll investigate the cause, Ray.

Raymond    I should think –

Bert    You know what they’re calling this place, Ray? Uh, Ray, uh? . . . Philomena? I’ll tell you anyway: Babylon Heights. They’re calling this place Babylon Heights, Ray. Police gonna come here and . . . not hard to imagine, right? They see a bunch o’ little freaks and they put two and two together. Charlie . . . that’s what I’m thinking. They won’t just wanna know the how, Ray. They’ll wanna know the why.

Raymond    Oh dear.

Bert    Yeah, exactly: oh fucken dear.

Bert goes to his bag and pulls out his pipe.

Raymond    Jesus Christ, Kowalski! How can you even think about smoking that stuff at a time like this?

Bert stuffs the paraphernalia in his pillowcase.

Philomena    Why did he go and do that? He was a good boy, even though he wasn’t really like a boy. He was so gentle.

Raymond    Look, let’s try to be rational. The deal here is –

Bert    Deal? You don’t know how to deal. I know blind pissants deal better than you, Ray. Deal? You ain’t no fucken gambler, Ray. You’re a fucken calculator. Face it.

Raymond     Calculator?

Bert    That’s right: you calculate.

Raymond    Whatever, whatever arrangement we –

Bert    Deals, arrangements, fucken treaties n’ pacts, gimme a blind pissant sonofabitch New Jersey landlord over your calculating shit any day.

Raymond    Look –

Bert    Look? No: you look, you look, Raymond. I can handle a fucken snoopy Keystone grilling me over my medicine but what you caused here ain’t no fucken joke, you hear me?

Raymond    I didn’t – I’m not saying it is, Bert.

Bert    You shouldn’t.

Raymond    I’m not. Look –

Bert    This ass aint for sale.

Raymond    I know, I –

Bert    You ain’t gonna stick some fucken flag in my ass n’ claim it . . .

Raymond    I can produce some cash.

Philomena is now interested.

Bert    You’re Mr Mervyn LeRoy now, you fucken – I can produce my ass you can produce.

Raymond    If you’d just –

Bert    You don’t produce shit, Ray . . . Ray?

Raymond    . . . What?

Bert    You don’t produce shit, Ray, what you produce, Ray, is raggedy assholes and fucked-up insides with that big fucken dick o’ yours.

Raymond    Please, please will you . . . look, Bert . . .

Bert    I seen dead panhandlers produce more n’ you, you lying fairy ass cocksucker.

Raymond    This is going nowhere.