1: INT. COMMUNITY HALL. DAY.
The Church of St. Peter Los Angeles. "WHOEVER YOU SEE HERE -
WHATEVER YOU HEAR HERE - STAYS HERE." That's a notice on a
wall. Here's another notice "NO SMOKING." Everyone is smok-
ing. This is an AA meeting. There's a lot of Faces to look
at. I don't know when we'll get to the one that's talking,
but when we do it's like this. Eyes like glue. 50 years old
with a face the color of a snuff-users hanky. He says this:
.. after my third recovery my wife made
me swear I'd never bring another bottle
into the house. And I never did. I bur-
ied it under the lawn. Cut out a turf &
stood it upright with a piece of tin-
foil instead of a cork. So here we are
out in the yard, and she's happy because
I'm getting healthy in a pair of swim-
ing shorts & no way near no booze. She
decides to prune the roses. Meanwhile,
I'm laying there with a straw stuck in-
to the fucken lawn doing a quart of red ..
Curious thing about drunks. Their disease often amuses them.
That's how crazy I was - I was sick for
half a life till I finally found my san-
ity again in these rooms. Don't take that
drink - And for the one or two new faces
I see here, I say this: just do it by the
day. You gotta do it by the day - Don't
take that drink. And keep coming to these
meetings. Because here is where it works ..
Thank you, Benny .. We have a few more
minutes .. Anyone else like to share? ..
Ash into an ashtray and now a face. He's around 40 years old.
Intense eyes & dark hair. Probably good looking when the ang-
le's right. But this is a bad angle. His name is JOHN BERLIN.
My name's John .. and I'm an alcoholic ..
I didn't intend to speak today. Matter of
fact, I wasn't gonna come to the meeting ..
But I wanna say a couple of things I hope
may be of use, particularly as Benny says,
to the new faces here. I first came into
this fellowship ten months ago. I came to
a meeting I was convinced was gonna be my
last - how could a buncha drunks help me? -
Then someone got up, I think it was Micky,
and described himself as "the shit around
which the universe revolved." I don't know
if that was original to him - it doesn't
matter, it was the first time I'd heard it,
and I still can't think of a better way to
describe how I felt - We all have our own
place in the darkness, and I was in such a
mess I could hardly fucken see - I'd lost
someone very dear to me - she hadn't died -
I had - I don't know whether she left coza
the drinking, or whether I drank coz I knew
she was gonna leave - either way, the booze
won - I replaced her with alcohol & anger -
I was angry with her, myself, everyone and
everything - Where I was I wanted to be
someplace else - any place but here - any
moment but now - But here I am, and it is
now, and there's a big change about to hap-
pen in my life - and I'm going for it coz
this time I know I'm not running away - I'm
actually two miles into a 600 mile journey,
and I feel good about myself going there -
So I stopped off to share that with you -
and to thank everyone of you, and everyone
in this fellowship for letting me walk out
of here, free ..
2: EXT. OAKLAND BRIDGE. SAN FRANCISCO BAY. DUSK.
High above the Golden Gate. Too high for specifics. But there
is something down there of interest to the Camera. Descending
with the Music it seems to isolate a particular car. Too many
and too distant to know which it is. But the Camera is follow-
ing and already a mile up the 101 Interstate travelling north.
Maybe via a dissolve. And maybe not. But red and white either
way as the headlights are coming on. The Camera is closing on
the highway. And a car has definitely been selected. There is
nothing much of interest about it. It's a blue Mercedes sedan.
Mussorgsky will choreograph the pace of these cuts. The first
puts the frame directly in front of the car. In a few moments
its brights snap up. And Titles continue in a dazzle of light.
3: INT. MERCEDES SEDAN. 101. DUSK.
Nobody in the car except BERLIN. And a lot of cigarette smoke.
Just time to wedge in a P.O.V. There's an intersection coming
up. He hits the indicators and crosses lanes winding his wind-
ow down. Takes a last hit at his cigarette and exits the butt.
4: EXT. FREEWAY INTERSECTION. DUSK.
An instant of red as the cigarette shatters up the highway. A
heavy sky of red and black cloud. The Mercedes turns off head-
ing east. This time the Camera doesn't follow. Remains static
over the intersection until the tail lights finally disappear.
5: INT. LIVING ROOM. HOUSE. DAWN.
Bare wooden boards and the sound of singing birds. This house
hasn't been lived in for years. No furniture other than a new
mattress in the middle of the floor. Still in polythene wraps.
BERLIN just about awake on top of it. Ten seconds of disorien-
tation while he puts this together. A stone fireplace. Stairs
leading to what's got to be a tiny room above. With enough ef-
fort this place could be charming. But right now it's a wreck.
6: INT. KITCHEN. HOUSE. DAWN.
This kitchen was out of date by 1963. A huge china sink and a
fat fridge. But the cooker works and a battered old kettle is
already on the gas. T-shirt and instant coffee. BERLIN checks
cupboards out. Crockery includes a cup and that'll do for now.
His lips articulate a silent expletive. The gas has just gone
out. Tries to relight it without success. On hands & knees he
explores a rubber supply pipe that snakes under the back door.
7: EXT. OPEN END GARAGE AND YARD. HOUSE. DAWN.
In the garage he finds the gas cylinder. Empty and so is the
bastard with it. He drags fingers through hair in frustration.
Looks around at the heaps of crap that need clearing out. The
view beyond he hardly cares to look at. But if he does it is
as follows. Clouds massing on the horizon. Fields getting re-
ady for rain. His nearest neighbor is around 200 yards away.
His nearest Cow about 50. This house is remote and rural look-
ing with a veranda out back. But BERLIN has no inclination for
sight-seeing. As he walks away a dreary female Voice seeps in.
8: INT. LIVING ROOM/KITCHEN. HOUSE. DAWN.
The Voice comes via a police scanner. Most of this dialogue's
bullshit. Illegally parked autos and a few drunks still about.
BERLIN sits on the mattress eating a breakfast of chewing gum
and milk. He unwraps another Juicy Fruit and regrets it. Goes
round his mouth like a shoe in a washing machine. A reluctant
decision is taken. Spits gum at the sink as he arrives in the
kitchen. Starts unloading his leather bag. A flotsam of stuff
is excavated including a 9mm Beretta and a pack of cigarettes.
He lights up and takes a cruel hit full of nicotine and guilt.
Wouldn't need a clairvoyant to realize he's trying to give up.
Something on the scanner interests him and he wanders back to
the living room. There's a call going out for "David 72 Sam 3."
David 72 acknowledges and BERLIN clearly recognizes the voice.
"We have a 927D/ Springfield Street/ City Dump." But David 72
is already hired. "I'm outside Emersons/ I wanna be the first
horrible face of her day." BERLIN exhales through a smile. The
Controller needs an E.T.A. for the 927? David 72 doesn't know.
Advises her to roll a couple of cars and "Secure the location."
9: EXT. HILLSIDE. SPRINGFIELD STREET. EUREKA. DAY.
A Chevrolet zig-zags up a shabby canyon. It's the road to the
city dump. Its final bend reveals a line of bellowing garbage
trucks. Everything is backed up. Nothing moves except the car.
The cause of the hold-up is explained at the top. A Sheriff's
car blocks the road. A Uniform moves to wave the Chevrolet in.
10: EXT. ENTRANCE/TRACK/INFILL. CITY DUMP. EUREKA. DAY.
The car parks at a weigh-house and a man in his 50's gets out.
Looks like he hasn't slept in a while. And got the mood to go
with it. Sports jacket and cowboy boots. A lot of laugh lines
around the eyes. But you wouldn't want to get arrested by him.
And especially not this morning. His name is FREDERICK T ROSS.
You can drive down there, Sir ..
I'm already walking. Where is it?
One of those walking with him is a 10-year-old Kid with a Dog.
TRAVIS looks almost too young to own his struggling moustache.
On the infill. The guy from
L.A.'s just gone down there ..
He has? .. What's he doing here?
He was waiting for you, Sir. Wait-
ed a good while. Said he'd go down
and take a look. I hope that's O.K.
The track sinks through a valley of a million discarded tires.
Damn A, it's O.K. With a bit of
luck I'm goin home. What we got?
They cut his throat ..
The information comes from freckles and a missing front tooth.
Who are you?
He wears glasses and wields a rusty .22 pump-action Remington.
Where do you fit in, Trimble?
His father's the manager, Sir.
The kid was up there shooting
vermin, and he found the body.
Get ready for it, coz I'm tell-
ing ya, you're in for a shock ..
TRIMBLE speaks with some enthusiasm. ROSS looks back with none.
They slit him from "ear to ear."
Ya want me to make a statement?
Not right now. No. Thank you.
11: EXT. WORKING FACE. INFILL. GARBAGE DUMP. DAY.
A series of terraces have been created as the canyon fills up.
Black smoke drifts from a distance at will of the wind. Gulls
and bulldozers. Plus a stinking ten foot cliff of human filth.
Several cars parked here including the blue Mercedes. Several
On Lookers behind yellow police tape. ROSS negotiates it look-
ing pissed off. Looks up and somewhere in the smoke is BERLIN.
Did you bring it with you?
I hope I'm not intruding?
Be my guest. What you got?
Old guy, offed himself with a
knife. I can't find the knife.
And the next thing ROSS is looking at is a death in the trash.
A massive dozer in the background. Everything else is garbage.
They cut his throat.
Would you get outside the tape.
And tell your dad to put that
fire out ... that ain't legal ...
Another face here is so familiar ROSS hasn't bothered to ackn-
owledge it. BLATTIS is a 32 year old local newspaper reporter.
Little is visible of the body except a blood-stained raincoat.
I wonder what would make
him do a thing like that?
Don't annoy me, Travis.
Truck horns wail in the distance. On the horizon it's thunder.
So where's the knife?
BERLIN wears surgical gloves. Removes film from a small camera.
I dunno .. Guess the dozer
musta shifted him? You need
some hands up here to look ..
You heard. Look for the knife.
Swatting smoke ROSS directs anger at a fat cop called VENABLES.
You, too .. Move that ass ..
BERLIN hands the film to ROSS as he gets into identical gloves.
You done the pockets?
No, Sir. I haven't started
till Monday. I'm a "tourist."
"Welcome to Eureka."
By now ROSS is crouched next to the Corpse examining the wound.
How long's he been feeling like this?
Week or two. Musta been on the ker-
osene. Stinks like a diesel engine.
Fucken noddle's hanging off ..
Mr Blattis, of our local news-
paper. You sure it's a suicide?
Uh huh .. He's well rehearsed ..
What does that mean, Sergeant?
Cut your own throat, you're ner-
vous about it, tend to hesitate.
He's got three trial cuts, lower
left side of the neck, before he
works up courage for the big one.
BLATTIS looks vaguely impressed. ROSS begins searching pockets.
You think Popeye would know that?
I don't think Popeye would be here.
Dead dog over here, Sir ...
Find the knife. And Venab-
les, is the coroner called?
Yes, Sir .. He's delayed ..
Alright, gentlemen, I'm gonna
leave you. I got a couple of
questions for the paper, Serg-
eant? Mind if I swing by later,
wring out a tea-bag with you?
My pleasure .. Who's Popeye?
Your predecessor. He did-
n't like to get outta bed.
Catch you later, Freddy T ..
Off he fucks under an ailing sky. BERLIN lands a friendly grin.
So what happened to the
barbecues, and fishing?
Watch my lips, coz you're not
gonna believe this - this is
a rare occurrence. We haven't
had a body in eighteen months.
He finds keys and change and a sandwich in the Wino's raincoat.
How does anyone dead
as this lose a knife?
What about that kid, Ross?
Oh, shit. Of course. The kid.
(Stands to shout)
Travis. Find that kid and get
the knife off him. He's gonna
lie to you - but he's got it -
so get it. Well, go on, get on
with it. Whatta you staring at?
TRAVIS stares up like he just stuck his dick in a light socket.
I think I found some-
thing horrible, Sir
Whatta you mean, "horrible?"
I think I've found a hand.
12: EXT. INFILL. GARBAGE DUMP. DAY.
ROSS crouches in garbage. Peers into a trash sack with assist-
ance of a flashlight. "You're right. It's a fucken hand." Pas-
ses the light to BERLIN. His turn to examine the ruptured bag.
Looks like a woman's hand?
BERLIN finally stands. Offs the flashlight. And hands it back.
What do you think?
I think you're here all day.
13: EXT. INFILL. GARBAGE DUMP. DAY.
Pissing with rain and unspeakably miserable. The 'grid-search'
is in progress and 50 square yards of the dump have been ripp-
ed to pieces. Intermittent voices from police radios. More veh-
icles down below including an ambulance with hazards revolving.
Up here half a dozen arc-lights scald off vapor. BERLIN search-
es under a busted umbrella. Looks up and runs into ROSS's eyes.
How much longer we here? We're
not gonna find nothing else .. ?
He wears a rubber cape & looks like a huge pissed-off Napoleon.
We give it one more hour. Did
the photographer do the dogs?
Two dogs. He should do the dogs.
And both turn towards a Voice shouting from deep in the gloom.
Sergeant - we got a brassiere over
here. Looks like it could be blood.
Alright, I'm coming ..
Another intrusion from the radio. TRAVIS repeats the question.
The coroner wants to know if
we can release the derelict?
Yeah, he can go ...
Think I'll lay down with him.
Only way I'll get outta here.
Did someone say something funny? Does BERLIN just about smile.
It's good to be with you, Ross.
And this is probably the only time ROSS will look happy today.
Glad you finally made it, Bro ...
14: EXT. CAR PARK. POLICE STATION. CITY OF EUREKA. DAY.
The Mercedes descends an incline and parks. Brown Chevys and
black & white patrol cars. Dismal lights and raining like it
doesn't end. BERLIN gets out and unloads the trunk (aquarium
& insulated picnic box). Slams the trunk and reveals BLATTIS.
You want some umbrella?
Proffers a big yellow one plus assistance carrying equipment.
Is this normal?
Average rainfall, 48 inches.
Pisses down, October to June.
Raining hard enough to hurt. A brisk intimacy across the lot.
Better in the summer. You
get to fucka few tourists ..
He hits a security code at the door. Obviously familiar with
the station. Dialogue continues as they step into a corridor.
15: INT. CORRIDOR/ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
Not married are you, Sergeant? [No.]
That's good, you get to fuck a few
more. So how long you known Freddy?
Freddy? Forever - he was my serg-
eant when I was a kid - don't get
to see a lot of each other - but
we been buddies two hundred years ..
Did he get you the job?
I think he would have if he could
have - been trying to get me up
here long enough - I think he may
have bribed the old guy to retire ..
Popeye wasn't old. Younger than you.
They push through doors into the biggest room in the building.
A dozen desks back to back and all the clutter and clatter of
typewriters and paperwork and Secretaries swapping the gossip.
Too many cops to describe and no time to remember them anyway.
But here's one making introductions. About 60 years old. Face
a mix of brick and fat. The Chief of Eureka Police is CITRINE.
Sergeants Serato, and Taylor.
Any handshakes and greetings that fit in around the equipment.
Mr Travis, I think you know ..
Do me a favor, Travis? Bring in
the resta the stuff from my car?
BLATTIS tosses his parasol "Don't lose it" and follows BERLIN.
Did you find the knife, Sergeant?
No .. But we have a theory ..
Kid told me he didn't take it?
Maybe he's lying to you?
By now they're in an L shaped room with wood benches and bull-
etin board all over the walls. Bullshit everywhere in packing
cases. Dusty Playboy spreads amongst other junk on the boards.
Is it true you found a hand?
And he benches the aquarium as BERLIN loses the insulated box.
Is that it?
Interview over, Blattis ...
C'mon, Chief, if it's sensitive,
tell me .. I'm not taking notes ..
Right now the box contains camera equipment which is unpacked.
.. we got a body part. We don't
know what it is - probably some
kind of hospital debris - we're
gonna try and check it out. O.K.
Now you know as much as we do ..
Grateful for your candor, Sir.
Then do me a favor, and keep
this outta the newspaper - that
dump serves a dozen different
communities, we don't even know
if it's ours? Till we do I don't
want no one worrying about ..
Wasn't frozen, was it, Sergeant?
Come on, Michael, outta here, the
guys trying to move in. I told you
what we know, something else, you-
'll be the first to hear about it ..
A Woman's face around the door. "Los Angeles for Sergeant Ber-
lin." And goodbye BLATTIS as Berlin reaches for the telephone.
Why did he ask if it was frozen?
That, I couldn't tell you .. And
don't worry about anya this crap,
by the time you're back it's gone ..
CITRINE splits as BERLIN picks up "Hey, Ronzo, good of you to
call." A long phone lead and he continues to unpack equipment.
Listen, my time isn't good - but two
things - really important - the bras-
siere I sent you? - I need to know if
those stains are human blood - and if
they are, do they match the blood in
the sample? - C'mon, gimme a break, I
don't know anyone up here, it would
take two weeks - C'mon, Ronny, I'm ask-
ing nice? I really need to know wheth-
er I'm interested in that brassiere? ..
A cut-out of Popeye The Sailor with fist round a camera on the
wall. Telephone resistance is collapsing and he breaks a smile.
You're my favourite man - raining -
I gotta go - Ronny - I gotta go - I
got a house fulla removal men and a
date at the morgue - And, Ron, Con-
gratulations - you're my first call ..
16: INT. MORGUE. COUNTY HOSPITAL. EUREKA. DAY.
ROSS has a Vic inhaler up his nostril. An inadequate defense.
A sudden stink slams into his neck muscles. Head and inhaler
travel rearward. He shifts eyes to BERLIN who scans the Bum's
autopsy reports. A PATHOLOGIST comments on his handiwork into
a microphone hanging from the ceiling. "Except as previously
noted, the liver is not remarkable." ROSS doesn't believe it.
.. if the knife hadn't killed
him, the booze would .. I nev-
er seen such a bad cirrhosis ..
You say the cut's left to right?
Isn't that unusual? He's left handed?
He picks up a nicotine-stained left hand. Simultaneously a LAB
TECHNICIAN wants BERLIN to sign in exchange for the picnic box.
I guess he was so drunk, he did-
n't know which hand he was using.
What are you gonna do with it?
Depends how healthy it is. If it's
any good, I'll try and get a print ..
He hands the clip-board back and remembers a question for ROSS.
Oh, Ross, that newspaper guy at the
station, asked me if the hand was
"frozen?" Why would he ask me that?
Frozen? .. I've no idea ..
Another fast fix on the Vic and BERLIN chews fresh gum. A need-
le on a weighing machine quivers. "The liver weighs 1420 grams."
A few beers wouldn't do
that to you, would they?
No, Freddy .. Not a few ..
17: INT. KITCHEN. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. EUREKA. DUSK.
An explosion of hugs in the kitchen. Everything happens at once.
MARGIE ROSS is slim and dark and still looking "twice as pretty."
She's got compliments for BERLIN too if they can get out of each-
other's arms "You're looking wonderful, John." But greetings are
better performed than described, so I'm leaving it to the actors.
You do a rush on three pizzas?
He emerges from the refrigerator wielding a bottle of champagne.
I'm not giving him Pizza. I
haven't seem him for a year?
I'm gonna cook him a dinner.
Dinner's another night, darlin ..
This is a drive-by. I got an hour ..
He detours via the kitchen door to shout upstairs. "Hey. Bobby.?"
Bobby's out .. What's the hurry?
Friday night at City Hall. Got a
great chance to frighten the fat.
Freddy's new obsession ..
Who is who?
A professional, whining, con-person
bitch with an ass the size of Africa ..
ROSS fights a difficult cork "You wanna get some glasses, Honey?"
She's an accounts-manager, very pal-
ly with our mayor, up to her elbows
in fraud, and I just can't prove it ..
So tonight she confesses?
Tonight I'm feeling lucky ..
The cork explodes and he goes for glasses but one isn't willing.
Not for me ..
What d'you mean, I just opened it
for you? This is French champagne.
No it isn't .. It's Californian ..
Not today .. I'm on a diet to-
day .. I'll take a diet soda ..
Since when did you drink diet soda?
Stop nagging him. If he doesn't
want it, he doesn't want it. You-
're quacking like an old duck ..
And she's already at the fridge and popping a can of diet cola.
Here you go, Honey .. You're
looking wonderful, John .. I
can't believe we got you here ..
How's the new residence?
What does that mean?
Not too good in daylight ..
C'mon, just shut your eyes until
it's painted. You're gonna love
it. This is "God's Country," John.
18: INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. DAY.
This in huge close-up. Focus hardens on a finger tip. A shock
of light. The focus adjusts and a flash bulb fires again. BER-
LIN moves away from the view-finder. Chewing gum stuck to the
side of the camera returns to his mouth. He activates an auto-
matic rewind. It fills the silence while he heads for a phone.
A lot of paraphernalia and technical type of shit. The bullet-
in board is filling up. Photographs chronicle the hours spent
on the dump. He dials with eyes on the pictures. A dozen cata-
logue discovery of the bra. "This is Mike Blattis/I can't take
your call right now/ If you have a message/You know the sound."
19: INT. DUTY ROOM/CORRIDOR/ADMIN. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.
A reel to reel tape recorder the size of a refrigerator domin-
ates the room. A black board details day/night/weekend shifts.
T.V. security monitors. A rack of night-sticks. And of course
paperwork. VENABLES crouches over a desk filling something in.
Would you drop these off for me?
Sure he will and six rolls of film are handed across. "Are you
winning, Sir?" BERLIN smiles and VENABLES follows him out into
the corridor. A couple of Coppers on their way in. One big and
morose looking called BISLEY. The other we've already met. Tay-
lor is a tall balding guy with hazy reddish hair "How you doin?"
BERLIN responds a happy "O.K." with eyes returning to VENABLES.
You know something strange about
that hand? I think it was frozen?
Yeah. What does that mean to you?
Apparently little. They arrive in the big room. It's deserted.
C'mon, Venables, you're a policeman.
And policemen always have an answer?
Well, Sir ..
Well, we had a very bad murder
here, coupla years ago. Not act-
ually in our county, but south
of here. Girl with no head, no
hands. You didn't read about it?
It was big shit. They had forty,
fifty detective working it. Nev-
er identified her. Never found
the head, never found the hands ..
A vacuum cleaner starts somewhere but BERLIN isn't hearing it.
So it could be that some crazy's
stored her hand in a freezer, and
only now decided to get rid of it?
Where do I find the file on that?
In there if we got anything? I
believe the code was "Jennifer."
BERLIN is already looking. A last question as VENABLES leaves.
Was it really frozen, Sergeant?
No. Been dead two weeks.
20: INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. DAWN.
The atrophied Hand is emersed in some kind of fluid. Index and
second fingers bound with wire just below the upper joint. BER-
LIN reaches for steel pliers. His face remains in close-up for
a nasty "snap" as he cuts a finger off. He's filling a syringe
with the same fluid when ROSS walks in. "Jesus, you still here?"
What time is it?
Seven thirty-five .. Here,
"Town Gets Top Cop." I was
gonna pin it to your wall.
A newspaper featuring a small photograph and article on Berlin.
Holding the Finger he carefully inserts a hypodermic needle un-
der the wire. Gently shoots in fluid to inflate the finger pad.
Why so coy about the word "frozen"?
Because, don't get into it ...
There's nothing in the files?
Watch my lips .. Don't get into it ..
The Finger pad is sufficiently restored to try and get a print.
It wasn't our case, wasn't our coun-
ty, and got nothing to do with that.
21: INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. DAY.
A slide projector does its stuff on a sheet of card pinned to
the door. Close-up of the Hand and off screen voice of BERLIN.
"Notice anything weird about it?" The answer from ROSS is "No."
A pen moves into frame and BERLIN points to marks on the Hand.
Look - 1 - 2 - 3/4 - 5 - 6 - 7 ..
The machine shunts up another slide. Now the back of the Hand.
I count eleven scars on this hand,
and four that might be? .. Now I
count em on my hand? Five. I'm 42
years old. This girl's about 18?
How come she's got so many scars?
He walks out of the projection beam and neon light flutters on.
So tell me about "Jennifer?"
Reaches for a pack of cigarettes and perches on a nearby stool.
You know I'm gonna find out.
BERLIN counts out cigarettes. And destroys them in an ashtray.
It's an "unsolved." They spent 500
thousand dollars & bought emselves
a dead end - You might wanna check
it with Taylor, he worked the case.
I already did. What's his problem?
ROSS reaches for the paper & thumb-tacks it to the wall "That."
He thinks you stole his promotion.
What exactly you doin there, John?
It's a method for quitting smoking.
A Zippo opens (sports L.A.P.D. insignia) and BERLIN lights up.
He takes a punishing hit and exhales a lungful across the lab.
That's an interesting method?
Must help beat the withdrawal?
Back on his feet BERLIN is about to begin more work on the Hand.
It's a technique I read about.
If you smoke 60 a day, you buy
three packs, throw one cigar-
ette away, and smoke 59. Day 2,
you throw 2 away and smoke 58 ..
Why don't you throw them
all away, and smoke none?
Because it's a ritual you gotta
go through with. I'm down to 10.
Daftest thing Ross ever heard. BERLIN is poised to make a print.
You want my advice?
Find yourself a farmer's daughter
with nice big fucking tits, and
shake that "bye-bye." Send it to
Sacramento, John .. I sniff grief ..
22: INT. STAIRS/LIVING ROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAY.
BERLIN & ROSS are opposite ends of a bed jammed on the stairs.
"Bastards. I gave em a 20 buck tip." Various navigational sug-
gestions from ROSS win them another stair. Plus advice from a
12 year old called BOBBY. "You gotta go left, Dad." ROSS knows
he's gotta go left! Both heave as MARGIE walks out the kitchen.
You're all done except the floor.
The house is a zoo of furniture. Bullshit piled up everywhere.
You're a saint, Margie, thanks ..
By now she's got the apron off and her coat on. "C'mon, Bobby."
Don't forget the wagon, Darlin?
And off they go via a slammed door as the phone starts to ring.
23: INT. BEDROOM. HOUSE. DAY.
In they stagger. The bed goes down. And BERLIN sprawls on top
of it. Devastated for oxygen. "Alright. That's it. I'm fucked."
You gotta stop smoking ..
I am stopping smoking ...
I don't mean this "system" shit
that keeps you sucking, I mean
stop .. I was exactly like you
are .. I used to wake in the
night - heart going so hard
I coulda made love with my left
tit .. If I can stop, you can ..
How'd you do it, old man?
Someone bet me a dollar ..
A dollar? .. Not worth
giving up for a dollar ..
BERLIN manages to find air to sit. Reaches for the Ansa Phone.
Alright. I'll bet you fifty?
First call comes from Delaware Roofing vis-a-vis the estimate.
Fifty dollars? You got a bet.
During these proceedings the machine has moved to another call.
[J.B./Ronzo/Got some results for
you/ First/ the blood on the bra
is human/ and it's not a popular
brand/A.B. Neg and that's a rare
one/Two/the blood on the brassie-
re is compatible with the blood
from the hand/Three/If you need
anything else the official answer
from all us Christians down here,
is fuck off/Shoot me a duck/Bye]
What are you gonna do, Soldier?
I'm gonna dig up "Jennifer."
24: INT. (TELETYPE)/ADMIN. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.
And here's part of the "exhumation." CITRINE stares at a tele-
type machine waiting for transmission on Jennifer to complete.
Approximate date of birth/Approximate date of death/ Identity
Unknown. Visible misgivings as he hauls it out and reads. One
or two chairs already on desks. ROSS still at his pawing over
documents with a detective called SERATO. Cigarette smoke and
shirt sleeves. ROSS looks up and catches CITRINE as he passes.
Chief, I gotta talk to
ya about this fat lady?
What about her?
She's making my life a
misery .. I wanna give
her a lie-detector test?
CITRINE continues up the carpet. "Alright, we'll talk about it."
25: INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.
A florescent glow from a T.V. monitor supplies the only light.
BERLIN vacillates interest between the scanner and the screen.
What is that?
Laser enhancement of the finger-
tip .. it's really bothering me ..
See these striations right here?
(Green on the screen)
It's like she's always worrying
the end of her finger? Rubbing it
with a thumb nail, or something?
But CITRINE isn't interested in finger nails. He's staring at
a polystyrene torso of a faceless girl. She wears a brassiere
stuffed with newspaper and a black wig. (Welcome Jennifer Two)
She's almost identical to Jennifer.
Slim - White - same age - bra size
is even the same. Nicely made lady.
CITRINE stares at the Dummy like he's gonna ask it a question.
How do you know her hair's black?
Hair on her hand. Plus Jen-
nifer had raven black hair.
What is all this Jennifer stuff?
He waves a handful of teletype before dumping it on a bench.
These cases aren't connected, John?
Yes, Sir, I think they maybe.
I think "Jennifer," and this
lady got hit by the same guy?
I don't see that at all ..
On the board is a super-imposed picture of a hand over a wrist.
I got four points of posit-
ive comparison on the cut ..
Yeah, that's all very inter-
esting, but where's the body?
A question he doesn't need because he hasn't an answer. CITRINE
has an eye on further photographs relevant to the Jennifer case.
I don't know nothing about this "Jenn-
ifer" girl, cept what some of the guys
told me - but principal feature of the
case was a gruesome displayal of the
body. He wanted it found. So if this is
the same guy, why's he hidden this one?
Another question he can't answer - and this time he doesn't get
a chance - BISLEY walks in with an apology for the interruption.
Got a face like Humphrey Bogart's mother fucked a different guy.
Just wondered if you had time to
get around to my pharmacy stuff?
You'll have it in the morning ..
Alright, I'll try again tomorrow.
Bisley has gone but his tension stays. BERLIN unwraps fresh gum.
Probably making him feel a bit
antsy seein it back on the wall.
He worked a lotta time on this.
I thought it was Taylor's case?
Sucked in officers from all over
the county. And it was the worst
six months this station ever had.
This is CITRINE's shop and BERLIN isn't gonna row it with him.
What do you want me to do, Chief?
I'm not telling you what to do.
What I will say, is right now,
that child's tricycle there is
more important to me than this ..
He refers to a little bicycle. Vouchered and obviously stolen.
By now CITRINE is at the hinges. A pause before he disappears.
Why don't you give it a minute, &
stop by my office. We should talk.
26: INT. MERCEDES SEDAN. CITY OF EUREKA. NIGHT.
Melted neon in the streets. A wet mid-town night. Nothing but
sound of windshield wipers and click of a Zippo lighter. ROSS
rides stoic passenger while BERLIN drives with festering eyes.
.. what does he think it is?
Everything it isn't [make a left].
He even tried a "self-inflicted."
C'mon, Ross, the bra and hand were
in different bags a 100 feet apart ..
They stop at a light and a beeper goes as warning to the blind.
What's she gonna do? Dump her bra
in one bag, her hand in the other,
and wander off whistling Hey Jude?
It's the garage on the far corner.
BERLIN is worrying at his fingertip on the wheel of the Zippo.
You can't stop it, can you?
What do you mean?
Worrying - clicking - picking - You
may as well be back in Los Angeles.
What do you mean, Ross?
The lights change and off they go and BERLIN waits for a turn.
Why don't you dump it? Mail it off.
Give the fucking F.B.I. a present?
Why don't you dump the "Fat Lady?"
Because I dislike her too much ..
O.K. and I'm not in love with this
fukker? That's how I feel about him.
No you don't. That's how you think
you feel about him. That's how you
feel about yourself. You won't give
yourself one-fucking-minute for you.
And by now they've arrived and pulled up on the garage forecourt.
It's indicative of their friendship that ROSS can talk like this.
Wait for me. It might not be ready.
He quits the car and BERLIN watches him scurry towards a service
shop. Rain beats on the roof and BERLIN looks stubbed out. A lot
of cuts coming up and here are some of them. Runs a hand through
his hair in unconscious frustration. A finger constantly bothers
the Zippo. Eyes towards ROSS who silhouettes in florescent light.
Somewhere in the background the lights change to red. Once again
the beeping sound of traffic-lights speaking to the blind. Maybe
he looks across but that doesn't matter. Something just happens
inside his head he isn't yet quite aware of. Everything in close
up. Big on the Zippo. Big on BERLIN. And he leaps out of the car.
BERLIN sprints through the weather. A station wagon is still in
the air at the end of an hydraulic jack. Surprise from ROSS and a
MECHANIC as BERLIN arrives. Fuck the fanbelt and listen to this.
I just had this insane idea - if
I'm wrong, I'll take a week off
and redecorate your entire house ..
Rain beats at the roof and the jack sinks the wagon behind them.
She's blind, Ross - that's why all
the scars - hear that traffic light?
That noise is to help blind people -
that's why the marks on her finger-
tips? - this lady reads in Braille ..
27: INT. ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
BERLIN sits at a desk at the end of the room. Nothing here but
a legal pad and a phone. The pad is covered in names & numbers.
Right now he's into a call and this is sounding promising."How
old?" And he writes 26. "How long?" About 6 weeks ago. Hope in
his eyes as he looks across to a woman called ANN. She's doing
what he's doing on a different line "Wait a minute, I specific-
ally said I was looking for a girl?" And all hope over because
Lesley is a boy. But here comes ANN & this might be something?
Shasta-Trinity Institute. Line one.
Sticks a sheet of notes on his desk and he junks the last call.
BERLIN (New call)
Hello .. Yes .. This is Sergeant
Berlin .. Yes, that's right .. I
believe my assistant explained? ..
How long ago was that? .. Uh-huh.
O.K. .. Who is who? .. Whass his
name? Goodridge? O.K. I'll hold ..
ROSS in transit grinning from ear to ear. BERLIN interested in
little but his notes and ROSS in nothing but obvious good news.
Pig Woman agreed to take a test.
I think I got something - twenty
two years old, dark hair - study-
ing mathematics - (Yes, yes, I'm
holding) - Last seen 5 weeks ago ..
28: EXT. LANDSCAPE/ROAD. TRINITY FOREST. DAY.
Mussorgsky is back on a shock cut. Big music and a shattering
landscape. Juniper woods and mountains. Sunlight on fresh fal-
len snow. Somewhere a long way off a car crawls up the valley.
Ross's car bursts into frame and as quickly the bend snatches
it away. An unexpected building in the distance. Victorian at
a glance but probably later. A clock tower and fifty lifeless
windows. The Chevy disappears towards its somber architecture.
29: EXT. THE SHASTA-TRINITY INSTITUTE. DAY.
Pine trees and slush and parked cars. The Chevrolet swings in
and parks in front of the mansion. Breath in the air and eyes
on the ugly pile as they slam doors and head for its entrance.
30: INT. ENTRANCE/RECEPTION. INSTITUTE. DAY.
BERLIN first with ROSS following. As soon as they hit the ent-
rance they trigger a recorded voice. "YOU ARE NOW AT THE MAIN
ENTRANCE. THERE ARE SIX STEPS." Midway up them with ROSS look-
ing back. "RECEPTION IS THROUGH SWING DOORS AND TO YOUR RIGHT."
31: INT. PRINCIPAL'S OFFICER. INSTITUTE. DAY.
GOODRIDGE is mid-50's with a beard like Abraham Lincoln. Sits
far side of his desk alternating eyes between ROSS and BERLIN.
The latter studies a photograph of a Girl in a file. It's pos-
sible they've found Jennifer Two? "How recent is the picture?"
As recent as we have .. What ex-
actly is your interest in Amber?
I'm afraid I can't give you an ans-
wer to that, Mr Goodridge. As I ex-
plained to your secretary, we're do-
ing a lotta looking, but we're not
even sure it's her we're lookin for ..
Then what are you hoping I'm gon-
na do? Dissuade, or persuade you?
I was hopin since we spoke that you
might have remembered something that
would give us an idea where she is?
Then you could have saved yourself
a lot of driving, Sergeant. What I
said on the phone's the same as I'm
saying now. I got no idea where Amb-
er is, or who it was took her there.
He doesn't like them but not as much as ROSS doesn't like him.
A blind girl can just walk out of
here, and you don't know who with?
You find something curious in that?
Yeah, I guess I do.
Then let me put your mind at ease ..
Firstly, Amber isn't "blind" - she
has some useful vision - and second,
this isn't a prison, it's a college
of higher education - a severe vis-
ual disability doesn't mean my stud-
ents don't value their independence
as much as anybody else - and Amber
was a very independent young woman -
She decided to leave - so she left ..
And you got no idea with who?
No, Sergeant, I got no idea with who.
And I might add, that in another six
weeks, a hundred and fifty students
will be leaving here, & driving away
for their Christmas holidays with pe-
ople whose name I-won't-know-either ..
ROSS could sock him in the crop but the phone rings and he ex-
cuses himself to answer it. Whatever he hears he isn't liking.
You have an appointment with Miss
As she's a member of my staff,
may I ask what this is about?
Well, apparently, she saw Amber the
weekend she left, & was briefly in
the room with the guy she left with.
I see .. Well, she's teaching an-
other class at four .. I'd apprec-
iate it if you don't detain her ..
32: INT. CORRIDOR. INSTITUTE. DAY.
Looking back down a deserted corridor. Someone tried to put sun-
shine on the walls with yellow paint. Somewhere a long way away
there is a sound like children singing. ROSS loathes this joint.
Loathes its silence. Eyes back to BERLIN as he rings a doorbell.
Where is everyone?
I dunno .. I guess this is
staff side of the building?
Here come footsteps and the door is opened by HELENA ROBERTSON.
Early 20's and blonde and not immediately beautiful. But delic-
ate features than need no make up and big dark eyes. They look
away for introductions as though she's shy. ROSS & BERLIN grab
glances as they follow in. Neither expected HELENA to be blind.
33: INT. APARTMENT. INSTITUTE. DAY.
Claustrophobia evaporates instantly. Great views down the val-
ley from every window. Plus a bizarre jumble of furniture and
colors. But no pictures on the walls. No friendly photographs.
Nor any lights. Although the afternoon is shutting down there
isn't a light in the room. ROSS elects to stay at the windows.
BERLIN takes an offered chair. HELENA sits nervously opposite.
What d'you wanna ask, Mr Ross?
I'm Mr Berlin. Mr Ross is right
here. And Mr Ross is maybe gonna
take a few notes, if that's O.K.?
O.K. .. I'd like you to tell me
in what ever way you want, what
you can remember about the time
you spent with Amber on the aft-
ernoon she left? Take your time,
and nothing's too trivial, O.K.
Well, I think I told you on the
phone .. I went up to her room
to say good-bye, and we just sat
on the bed and chatted a while,
while her friend was coming in
and out collecting her things ..
What kind of friend? Was he a boy
friend? An old friend? New friend?
Lots of headshake. And lots of silences. "I really don't know."
That's O.K. Can you give me any
idea what this fellow was like?
Well, d'you know how old he was?
Alright, let me put it this way?
How old d'you think I am? Twenty-
six? Thirty-nine? Or fifty-three?
Possibly the only grin ROSS is going to get out of this place.
You must have some idea about him.
When we spoke on the phone,
did you know I was blonde?
Why not? You heard my voice?
A good point. And a point taken. And BERLIN might even say so.
We don't have some kind of
sixth-sense, you know. Ex-
cept in ridiculous novels ..
Now another silence overtaken by a low whistle in another room.
He used a breath freshener ...
A sardonic headshake from ROSS. Well that solves the case then!
And I think his name was John?
John? .. You never said that
on the phone? .. What makes
you think his name was John?
I don't know. I guess she must
have called him John? I'm mak-
ing tea. Would you like some?
BERLIN would but ROSS wouldn't. She leaves and whispers begin.
This looks promising .. I
think this one could be it?
Thank Christ we got a witness.
Let me just keep going a while.
She might remember something?
What? She's blind, Bro. You
may as well ask one of these
Beethoven guys on the piano?
He thumbs a cluster of cheap busts of composers on an upright.
We're better off having another
pop at old Abe Lincoln down the-
re? Get angry with the prick. Get
some of his "useful visions" in?
Someone must have seen something?
Negative from BERLIN. Checked it out. Sunday and no one about.
This is fucken crazy. Two hours
here, two hours back, and the
only word I've written is John ..
A touch later and the sun is setting. ROSS stands at a window
to watch it go. Watches one or two cars driving away. Watches
a bird sitting outside on the fire-escape. BERLIN's voice can
just about be heard off screen "You said he spoke? Can you re-
member what he said?" ROSS saunters back into HELENA's answer.
Well, he just said, come on,
hurry up, will you, because
it's starting to snow again.
Empty teacups and empty notebook. ROSS sits opposite BERLIN.
And I remember, he was a lit-
tle breathless from carrying
the cases because the elevat-
or had gone out that weekend.
The elevator wasn't working?
No, it has a mind of its own.
A clock strikes four somewhere. And BERLIN knows he's lost it.
Can I see your hands?
He takes her hands and HELENA immediately looks uncomfortable.
He examines scars and she stares at him with her useless eyes.
I have a class. I have to go.
Is there anything else you can
tell me? Anything about him or
her? Doesn't matter how small?
No. Except he smoked. Like you.
Yes, I could smell it on his
breath, like I can on your's.
A taut instant between ROSS and BERLIN. BERLIN caught out and
he knows it. ROSS roars in silence "YOU LYING PIG" and writes
in his notebook. The angle switches to see "BERLIN IS A LIAR."
I'm late .. I really have to go ..
Everyone suddenly on their feet and HELENA gets into a jacket.
D'you have a dog? Seeing Eye Dog?
Lotta scratch-marks on your door?
Sometimes I look after friends dogs,
if they go to dances, or something?
Could I just refer you to
this memo here, Sergeant?
He tries to get his notebook under BERLIN's nose. But BERLIN
isn't looking or listening but following HELENA into her hall.
Did Amber have a dog?
What color was it?
I don't know.
She opens the door and ROSS is barely through before it slams.
34: INT. CORRIDOR. INSTITUTE. DAY.
ROSS baits BERLIN up the corridor. Ridicules in silence while
counting imaginary winnings. Watch my lips! F.I.F.T.Y. HELENA
walks innocent of the pantomime and BERLIN tries to ignore it.
.. if she writes, or calls, or any-
thing at all, you let me know, O.K.
He bells the elevator refusing to acknowledge ROSS's bullshit.
I'll leave a number with the office ..
Lips drill a whisper into his ear. "Fifty fucken dollars, O.K."
What exactly do you teach, Helena?
Music composition .. and cello ..
Fifty of em. And I want em now.
Meanwhile the elevator arrives triggering a Voice. "YOU ARE NOW
ON THE FOURTH FLOOR." Doors slide open and Christ look at this?
What kind of eye-defect needs glasses like this? Lenses like ei-
ther half of a glass ball. He's early 30's and decidedly "iffy."
Is he student/staff or what? As he exits they enter staring aft-
er him. As the doors close the MYOPIC turns to stare after them.
35: INT. CHEVROLET. TRINITY VALLEY. DUSK.
ROSS drives and BERLIN studies Amber's file. "Wanna beer?" No
answer but cans appear anyway from a pack between Ross's legs.
Had a seeing Eye Dog since she
was eighteen .. didn't I tell
you those dogs meant something ..
No, you didn't.
Alright, I didn't, but I nearly
did, and if I had I'd have been
right .. I knew there was some-
thing about that Labrador, that
dog was too good to be dead ..
We gotta get back up that dump ..
No way .. not me, Mister. I'm not
going up there again. Might find
someone's prick in a hot-dog roll.
Forget it. They got stringent hyg-
iene rules. He's long gone in lime.
ROSS pops cans and hands one over. But BERLIN doesn't want it.
Maybe not? I'm feeling lucky ..
So am I. But where's my money?
Don't start again. If you win a
bet, you can't keep winning it ..
Pay me, and I shut up.
I haven't got it.
Then give me that Zippo.
I need some security. I
don't trust you anymore.
I had one puff on a pipe.
I don't want excuses, I want that
weird-looking stuff called "cash."
Snaps fingers "Gimme the lighter." And he does to shut him up.
I'll tell you what I'm gonna do?
I'm gonna do you a big favor ..
Forget the 50 and I'll keep this.
What do you want it for?
To throw out of the window.
Does it as he says it. Bye-bye Zippo! BERLIN can't believe it.
What are you doing, Ross?
I've had that 15 years! ..
It's not your friend. It
keeps you sucking. Remem-
ber the old Bum's lungs?
I remember the old bastard's
liver! I don't believe you
did that. I had a great sent-
imental attachment to that.
You want me to stop the car?
An academic question considering the Zippo went down a ravine.
No! Get me to that garbage dump!
I'm gonna find that fucking dog!
36: EXT. CITY DUMP. CITY OF EUREKA. NIGHT.
Gloom congeals around flashlights. A winter mist falling down.
TRIMBLE and Doberman watch as BERLIN goes at it with a shovel.
A dozen graves already dug and he's halfway into another. Des-
pite the cold he sweats in shirt sleeves. Also breathless and
rests to catch his wind. "Don't you have to go to bed?" No he
doesn't. He wants to see the victim. Digging recommences with
TRIMBLE supplying the light. BERLIN suddenly stops. "Get that
lamp down here." White lime. Black fur. They've found the Dog.
BERLIN begins an examination holding a tiny flashlight in his
teeth. Eyes excitedly back to TRIMBLE and gesturing towards a
bag. "That bag there. You find a knife and a paira long-nosed
pliers." TRIMBLE does it relishing the snap of a switch-blade.
BERLIN still busy with the light in his mouth. TRIMBLE pissed
because he can't see what's happening. BERLIN removes a crump-
led bullet from the back of the Labrador's skull. Holds it up
for scrutiny. Small calibre. Badly distorted. "Looks like a 22?"
You didn't shoot him did you?
Me .. I love dogs .. Ask him?
37: INT. ANTI ROOM/ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
LETTERS BIG AS A HOUSE. And Loud. The printer reciprocates as
fast as its mechanics are capable. Details coming in from San
Diego. VICAP Case Number/F.B.I. Case Number/Victim Status/etc
etc. Letters smacking into paper too fast to read. But one de-
tail is repeated constantly and underlined. "Identity Unknown."
Transmission ends and BERLIN hauls at least a yard of homicide
out of the machine. Can't believe what he's looking at. "Jesus.
He hit six." Reads as he walks back into the big room and gets
interrupted by a call. "Miss Robertson. Holding." He heads for
the phone with eyes following ANN "Find Ross for me, will you?"
Berlin .. yeah .. that's nice of
you, Helena, but I already found
out .. black, yes .. No, no, of
course not, good of you to call ..
You heard a what? .. A hollow car?
A hand shoves papers at the edge of his vision. TAYLOR looks a
mite cheesy. "You got a minute for this?" And BERLIN nods sure.
Yes, I'm still here .. Why didn't
you mention that? .. I see .. Al-
right, we should talk again .. No,
I'm just south of my eye-lids in
it right now .. How about Sunday?
38: EXT. COAST ROAD. HUMBOLDT BAY. EUREKA. DAY.
The first shining day of November. Sand dunes and an infinite
stretch of beach. Behind the sea-break is a lagoon and a tiny
harbor. Berlin's Mercedes descends the coast road towards it.
39: EXT. HARBOR. HUMBOLDT BAY. EUREKA. DAY.
Ross's boat is a 35 foot fisherman. Shining brass and varnish.
But like him it's getting on and often grumpy. This last qual-
ity presently evident in both. Engine roaring and ROSS is cov-
ered in oil. BERLIN has to shout above the racket to be heard.
.. I put the slug in for a ballis-
tics report, the man tells me, for
get it. Soft lead, it's worthless ..
I think, fuck it. And fuck Citrine.
I call a friend of mine in Los Ang-
eles, and he runs our whole damned
show through a main-frame looking
for anything similar to our ladies
shot with a twenty-two - you don't
believe what he finds in San Diego ..
ROSS detours eyes to wave at his Son. "Watch those revs there."
Would you shut it down a min-
ute, Ross? This is important.
ROSS signals BOBBY to turn off. And the diesel splutters down.
Alright, let's take a walk around
the block .. I gotta buy a gasket ..
40: EXT. QUAY/HARBOR. HUMBOLDT BAY. DAY.
Seagulls and sunshine and probably Saturday because the place
is busy. ROSS walks with BERLIN up a wooden quay. Their journ-
ey will take them across a small bridge towards a Marine Shop.
Six girls over a period of 18
months, and give or take a head
or two, the M.O.'s exactly the
same. Dark hair. No hands. All
shot with a high velocity twen-
ty-two in the back of the head.
How come the F.B.I. don't put
anya this together? They work-
ed over "Jennifer" for months?
They possibly did - but they nev-
er had a head, so they never had
a bullet - and they never got an
I.D. - not on any of em - never
bust a homicide unless you know
who your victim is - we're the
first to get a positive identity.
Identity of whom? You got a girl,
doesn't even have a driver's lic-
ense? .. She's untraceable, John ..
You need fifty detectives on this.
That's what I'm here for. I want
you to come and see Citrine with
me? He's not gonna here it from
me but I know he'd listen to you.
Listen to me saying what?
I wanna take that fucking Blind In-
stitute to pieces .. Every address
book, every phone call, everyone in
and outta there in the last 5 years ..
For a dead dog?
We've fused into a major series,
Ross. This girl isn't the second
victim. This is "Jennifer Eight."
And this is the second time they stop and stare at each other.
That old Wino on the heap wasn't
a suicide. He stumbled into some-
thing, saw something, and whoever
took him out knew how to fake it.
That isn't what you said before.
I was wrong.
Says it with remarkable humility considering he's the "expert."
I'm going in to see Citrine this
afternoon. Will you come with me?
You're not .. He's in hospital ..
He was trying out a new pair of
skis in his hallway. The phone
rings, and he goes for it, and
falls off. He must be the only
skier in Northern California to
break a leg in his living room.
They arrive at the Chandler's with BERLIN in no mood to smile.
You believe me, don't you?
What does it matter what I bel-
ieve? .. What you gotta worry
about is what Citrine believes ..
But he doesn't really believe it. And doesn't enjoy saying no.
But I can't help you with this. We
can't go through the door with two
contentious issues, you with a mass
murderer, and me with the Mayor's
best friend. Do that, we lose both.
I'm sorry, Bro, you're on your own.
41: EXT. TRINITY VALLEY. DAY. (HELICOPTER)
The Mercedes and Music travel north. The latter made sinister
by this landscape. Forest plunging into dark ravines. The sun
colors the mountains red. But most of the valley is in shadow.
42: EXT. DRIVE/PARKING. SHASTA-TRINITY INSTITUTE. DAY.
A high wind in the chimneys. And the view is still from above.
Like someone's looking down from the top of the building. And
maybe someone is? BERLIN parks it and gets out. Stretches and
walks towards the institute. He looks very small from up here.
43: INT. GYMNASIUM. INSTITUTE. DAY.
HELENA plays Elgar in an empty gymnasium. Sunlight streams in
staining the air red. As BERLIN arrives doors on the opposite
wall flap together like somebody just hurried out. Did he see
someone? Perhaps not. The trees outside move a lot of shadows.
Music stands. Vacant chairs. BERLIN takes one to watch her re-
hearse. Realizes just how beautiful she is. And HELENA realiz-
es someone is there. Before she can ask he identifies himself.
Have you been here long?
No, just a minute or two .. I
knocked on your door - no one
home, so I followed the music ..
I'm sorry. I'll get my things.
No problem. I'm not in a hurry.
But she's already fussing about stuffing sheet music in a bag.
Matter of fact, I saw a little
restaurant place down the road.
Looked kinda pretty? I thought
maybe we could have some lunch?
No answer but the answer is no. BERLIN finds her book for her.
Alright, whatever .. Was some-
one in here with you? When I
came in the door was flapping?
I don't think so .. No one
comes here at the weekends ..
44: INT. STAIRCASE. INSTITUTE. DAY.
The gale shouts its head off. The Camera looks down from above.
Nothing to see except the stairwell and a hand on the banister.
I suppose I'm the worst
witness you've ever had?
I gotta admit, you're one of
them. Just wish I knew what
you meant by a "hollow car?"
Well, some cars sound fat and
some cars sound thin, and this
kind of car sounded "hollow" ..
Any moment now they turn a corner of the stairs into close-up.
Maybe it was a foreign car?
Our kinda cars sound "fat."
The elevator is parked on this floor with its doors half open.
Are you sure you wanna see it?
It's another three floors up?
Despite breathlessness he does. "How often does it break down?"
Oh, all the time. They keep
threatening to have it re-
placed, but they never will.
45: INT. ATTIC APARTMENT. INSTITUTE. DAY.
Gloomy windows and a wardrobe. BERLIN walks in leaving HELENA
at the door. "I sat right there, on the bed." The bed is gone
but why tell her? He checks the wardrobe. Guess what? Hangers.
If I came to the diner with
you, would you bring me back?
Of course I would ..
His smile deteriorates as he realizes she's "staring" at him.
What are you staring at, Hel-
ena? .. I mean .. I'm sorry ..
That's alright. You suddenly
reminded me of him .. He was
standing right where you are,
kind of breathless, like you.
Nothing happening except the wind. Then a smile as she leaves.
I'll get my coat, wait
for you downstairs ..
And he begins an exploration. Musty bathroom with old-fashion-
ed fixtures. A tap leaking behind shower curtains. Nothing in
the cabinet. Nothing under the sink. Six steps and he is in a
kitchen. Finally finds something worth looking for. Tears the
sack out of a vacuum cleaner. Discovers a knot of hair from a
black dog. Simultaneously the door slams. Shock powers him in-
to the sitting room in time to hear a key turning in the lock.
Hits the door and shouts. Hears footsteps moving rapidly away.
46: INT. RECEPTION. INSTITUTE. DAY.
A huge Christmas poster advertises SHASTA-TRINITY ARTS/CRAFTS.
HELENA sits in the deserted foyer reading Braille. The volume
is the size of a phone directory. BERLIN appears via the main
entrance. Windswept and wasted and surprised she's still here.
I'm sorry, someone slammed the
door on me. I couldn't get out.
It was probably the wind.
Hellava wind that turns a key! But he says nothing. Takes the
book while she gets into her coat. She's obviously made an ef-
fort. A change of clothes and her hair pinned up. But she has
got the sweater on inside out and the label is under her chin.
What are you reading?
Hamlet. Have you read it?
You should. It's wonderful.
By now they're at the doors with BERLIN escorting her through.
47: INT. RESTAURANT/DINER. TRINITY VALLEY. DAY.
Red brick walls and help yourself to salad. All but empty and
their food is yet to arrive. BERLIN is clearly having a tough
time with the conversation. Basically because there isn't any.
.. I'll tell you what, if I prom-
ise to stop being a cop, will you
promise to stop being a witness?
HELENA sits frozen like she's waiting for results of an X-ray.
I mean, we don't havta sit here
waiting for me to ask the next
question? You could ask one, too?
Are you wearing a uniform?
Well, I'm glad we got the conver-
sational side of lunch over with.
I'm sorry .. I don't like sitting
in the middle of a restaurant .. I
feel like everyone's looking at me ..
There's no one "looking at you" ..
There's hardly anyone in here. The
only person looking at you, is me.
And he likes what he's looking at. And maybe HELENA senses it.
Are you married?
Was. But I don't like to talk about it.
You just asked me to ask you questions.
I know, but you pick on the one time
in my life I like not to remember. I
was in the bad lands. Really not well.
It's something that happens to a lota
cops. We don't wanna talk about that.
"Thoughts that lie too deep for tears."
Yeah, that'll do .. Is that "Hamlet?"
No, Wordsworth .. Do you like poetry?
His attention is temporarily elsewhere. A Lunch Party just arr-
ived. It's clear GOODRIDGE is profoundly unhappy to see BERLIN.
I don't know, I haven't read much. I
don't think poetry's my kinda thing?
Do you pray?
You said, you were in the bad lands?
No, I don't pray .. Had a dream once,
about God, just around the time I was
getting well .. He was a nasty lookin
little guy, moved into the apartment
right on topa me .. I said, don't you
listen to people's prayers? He said,
prayers? Not often. They're Junk Mail.
48: INT. MERCEDES SEDAN. SHASTA-TRINITY INSTITUTE. DAY.
Big pines either side of the driveway. The Camera sits in the
back more interested in the approaching institute than BERLIN.
.. I got really sick of the street ..
so I went to school and became a
Scientific Services Officer, which
is basically a Scene of Crime Off-
icer. Then this came up, and I got
what they call a Lateral Transfer ..
Pulls into a parking spot and the next sound is the hand brake.
I couldn't take another minute of
Los Angeles .. Felt like I'd said
sorry in every street in the city ..
.. sorry your father, mother sis-
ter, whatever .. I couldn't take
another day of it .. Come on, I'm
gonna rob you of a cup of coffee ..
49: EXT/INT. FIRE ESCAPE/APARTMENT. INSTITUTE. DUSK.
BERLIN looks down from the fire escape. For the first time the
place sounds busy. Cars arriving and doors slamming. Voices of
Students coming back from the weekend. "Why were you out there?"
HELENA waits inside and didn't realize he was back in the room.
Coz I wanted to feel the snow
on my face .. I think that's
when I heard her call him John?
Time to go and both know it. Stale shadows and growing silence.
Is it snowing now?
No. Getting dark though.
And his eyes are searching her so hard she must be aware of it.
You think you'd know this man? If
he was in the room with you again?
You've already asked me that ..
The silence is almost uncomfortable. BERLIN continues to stare.
Amber's dead, isn't she?
Yes. I'm sorry.
50: EXT. SUBURBAN STREET. CITY OF EUREKA. DAY.
Pretty houses in a pretty little street. Hills in the back and
sunshine out front. BERLIN pulls up in his Mercedes and does a
bit of tie adjusting as he walks up a path and hits the chimes.
This could only be MRS CITRINE. A budget smile and he's inside.
51: INT. "STUDIO"/CONSERVATORY. HOUSE. DAY.
Dozens of repulsive paintings. A truly repulsive painting "By
Numbers" of the Mona Lisa in progress. The color codes are com-
pletely fucked up. CITRINE wears a wooly hat and hates walking
on crutches. BERLIN picked a bad day to come in here with this.
You're pushing this too hard. It's
like you want me to say stop? You
must know that's the way this is
going, John? There's other work to
do, why don't ya ease off a little?
Coz this is a major & we're closer to
this bastard than anyone's ever been.
Then where's the body? .. Where's
the body, and why's he hidden it?
He hasn't hidden it. He never made
a hit this far north before, and
he never read a weather forecast ..
She's probably fifteen feet from
the highway, three feet under snow.
Have you got a match on the bullet?
Have you got a print from the hand?
It could be anyone's hand. Illeg-
ally disposed of hospital debris ..
It's her hand. Her scars. Her dog.
Her dog's shot. And she's missing.
She's not "missing." Did she shout?
Did she scream? Did he coerce her?
No. She left of her own free will ..
And if she gets on a plane and goes
to Peru with the prick, she's still
not missing. You got no case, John.
If you're not gonna hear me, Chief ..
I have heard you. You just don't like
hearing me. You got this whole damned
thing outta proportion. I don't know
what you gotten used to in Los Angeles,
but I don't believe there's a Police
Chief, in this country, would put a
task force together for a body part ..
We have a multiple homicide, Sir ..
We have a body part in suspicious
circumstances - a tailor's dummy
wearing a brassiere - and a bill
for seventeen dollars for its wig!
52: INT. CORRIDOR/ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
BERLIN arrives at the station in the same mood he left Citrine.
Heads for his room and runs into ROSS's stare. Problems on his
plate too. He sits at his desk looking uncharacteristically an-
xious. What ever he's drinking isn't tea. He finds a bottle of
J&B in a drawer and walks toward Berlin's freshly slammed door.
52: INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. DAY.
The lab is stuffed with junk waiting his attention. (Dozens of
common things made sinister by their labels and plastic sacks).
ROSS delivers a dose of Scotch in a plastic cup. Pours himself
another. Leans on a bench and gets into the pissed-off silence.
Did he shut you down?
All but .. How you doing?
I dunno, I daren't go in there -
just about get her wired up, and
the fucking mayor walks in - mad
as hell - what are we doing fuck-
ing with his staff? We should be
out chasing major violators ..
I wish he'd tell that to Citrine.
He almost does the whiskey but reaches for chewing gum instead.
He thinks the kid shot the dog ..
He looks at ROSS like what-are-you-looking-at-me-like-that-for?
Did I say he did?
You looked like you did?
No, I think you'll find I looked like
he could have? By accident even? He's
up here spraying the scenery all day.
He didn't shoot it, Ross. And
no way by accident. There's a
flash-burn. It was point-blank.
SERATO walks in with a cigarette plugged into his ashen kisser.
Flying colors ...
Say you didn't say that, Angelo?
I said it.
Oh my God Mother's shit. Are we in it?
54: INT. ANTI ROOM/INTERROGATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
This room and the interrogation room are linked with a one-way
mirror. BERLIN looks through munching gum. EMERSON is 25 years
old and many pounds of vexed flesh. But something about her ex-
pression expects apology. SERATO paces the place chain-smoking.
ROSS listens devastated as the EXPERT explains his lousy chart.
This is the important one. She
gets a dead straight line, and
that's an exceptional reading ..
.. this is the stupidest thing
we ever done. Fucking Citrine's
gonna fire one of us for this ..
I can't believe it. I just
know she someway busted it.
This is an honest girl. She
couldn't lie if she tried ..
Is she lying, Ross?
For a moment there is an intense trust between ROSS and BERLIN.
Alright fuck it. Let's go for broke. BERLIN grabs the read out.
Fueled on residual anger he vanishes out the door. ROSS is fir-
st at the mirror to see him reappear in the interrogation room.
55: INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. POLICE STATION. DAY.
The polygraph machine looks like state of the art. A table and
two chairs. BERLIN takes one and sits opposite EMERSON. She at-
tempts a smile but he kills it with the intensity of his stare.
My name's Sergeant John Berlin.
And the time is his. He knows what he's doing. And she doesn't.
I been a policeman 17 years: 16
years 9 months of which with the
L.A.P.D. I witnessed literally
hundreds of lie-detector tests,
and I never seen one like this?
What d'ya mean, Sergeant?
Well, look at it. Look at this
line? That's the important one.
Dead straight down the page. No-
body gets a dead straight down
the page. Even our expert says
a dead straight's "exceptional."
All he's doing is telling her truth. Up to her to interpret it.
Thought you might wanna comment?
A tongue slides through the lipstick like something being born.
I wasn't actually lying, Officer.
And suddenly the only thing holding her chops up is Max Factor.
He's got her on the roll now and all it needs is one more push.
You busted the box, lady! You flunk-
ed it .. You lied about things you
didn't need to lie about .. The only
truthful statement you made's your
name .. Your name is Carol Emerson?
The quivering lip and flooding eyes amalgamate into a horrible
sort of groan. She's bellied up and anxious to spill her beans.
BERLIN better get through the door fast because he might laugh.
You tell one more lie, you're go-
ing in a cell. Sergeant Ross is
coming in to take your statement.
56: EXT. ROSS'S BOAT. HUMBOLDT BAY. EUREKA. DAY.
A wave atomizes and comes down like silver champagne. HELENA &
BERLIN hang on the prow of the boat with the ocean rushing bel-
ow. Another wave and more spray for HELENA. She turns like get-
ting sea in your face is the best invention ever. Oilskins sat-
urated and her hair streaming and she knows he's loving it too.
57: INT. WHEELHOUSE. BOAT. DAY.
Sunshine & spray on the windshield. ROSS at the wheel with MAR-
GIE next to him. Eyes on BERLIN & HELENA playing like children.
Such a shame .. She's
a really sweet kid ..
She's a doll. But I wish he
hadn't brought her out here.
Stairs descend to a cabin and ROSS interrupts himself to shout.
Bobby, what happened to that
beer? Rule one, is you don't
diddle around with a witness.
He's happy, darlin ..
I'm sure he is. But gettin in-
to the "element" is a bad idea.
BOBBY clatters up the stairs clutching a six pack of Budweiser.
Tell em I'm going up the coast
a way, get out of this weather.
BOBBY exits the wheelhouse and walks their eyes back to HELENA.
Except for the hair color,
she looks just like Suzanne?
Well, that's who she is.
Cept she can't run away.
58: EXT. FISHING DECK ABOVE WHEELHOUSE. BOAT. DAY.
Wind over and sea content and anchored about a mile from shore.
Smoke from a dying barbecue and Nat King Cole croons "Unforget-
able." ROSS sports shades and sits staring down the line. Some-
one plays lousy guitar and he shifts eyes into the well of the
boat. HELENA teaches BOBBY to play chords. Hardly worth the ef-
fort but they're enjoying it. BERLIN looks down from the oppos-
ite side of the deck. His gaze interrupted by MARGIE "You want
another Coke, honey?" Sure he does and her eyes travel to ROSS.
You want something, darling?
I wouldn't mind another B.E.E.R.
In code so BERLIN won't understand. But he and ROSS swap grins.
How much longer you on that diet?
I'm doing it by the day ...
MARGIE climbs the stairs with drinks and drinks a beer herself.
Popped cans change the subject. This seems like a question BER-
LIN doesn't really want to ask & MARGIE doesn't want to answer.
How's your little sister?
She's in Europe ..
Clearly a sensitive subject and ROSS decides the truth is best.
She married some English prick.
He's not that bad of a guy ..?
Got a handshake like a
partially excited penis.
The joke doesn't reach BERLIN. MARGIE's hand is on his shoulder.
Her loss, darlin ..
And she heads for the lower deck. A sweet smile as she descends.
Anyway, you're doing O.
K. She's a sweet heart.
And also playing the guitar "In My Life." And she does it well.
Why's she blind, Bro?
Slow banging of something swaying. And this exchange goes slow.
Whole family wiped out.
A bleeper goes on one of the lines and ROSS twists in his seat.
Strap me in. Here comes another.
And he winds in yet another three quarters of a pound Mackerel.
Worst day's fishing I ever had ..
It's been a great day.
ROSS dexterously extracts the hook with serious eyes on BERLIN.
You just go easy, Brother ...
(Looks at fish)
Alright, we're all goin home.
59: EXT. CAR PARK AT BEACH. DUSK.
Darkness in about an hour. Wide over the car park. Sand dunes
surround it. Practically deserted of cars. Headlights snap on
focusing attention on a station wagon exchange of good-byes.
I really liked Margie ..
Silhouettes with exaggerated shadows walk across the car park.
What does she do?
She runs a kind of hair dress-
ing and you know, beauty salon ..
Have you known her long?
I was married to her sister ..
The angle changes and is closer now. HELENA has taken his arm.
You don't ask what I'm like?
I know what you're like ..
How d'you know what I'm like?
Ross told me.
Really? What did he say?
He said you're quite chubby.
And you have a nervous tick.
He said that? What else did
Just your age.
Which is what?
Fifty-seven .. I don't mind ..
BERLIN is more amused than annoyed. They arrive at the car and
his suggestion is met with an appropriate response from HELENA.
You wanna drive? C'mon we're
in a car park, miles from any-
where .. There's nothing arou-
nd but nothing and sand dunes ..
"I can't drive a car." Doesn't like cars. But he's not hearing.
C'mon it'll be fun. You can
drive me around in circles ..
No lady ever had a driving lesson like this before. BERLIN all
but sits in her seat. Arm on the back of it. Hand on the wheel.
For a split second they're doing 60. Now they're doing about 4.
The Mercedes spirals in widening circles. Instructions and enc-
ouragement from BERLIN .. O.K. .. Straight now .. The Mercedes
straightens and heads through the dunes. "It's a big car park?"
We're going along a little track.
HELENA may like driving but she doesn't like the sound of that.
It's O.K. It's not a public road.
Headlights behind them approach quickly. Disappear and reappear
as they follow the geography of the dunes. BERLIN only now bec-
omes aware of them. one more dip and they slam in. Her anxiety
is misinterpreted. He takes the wheel. No problem. Let him pass.
The vehicle is right up behind them. As it overtakes HELENA is
scared. And still scared even though BERLIN has stopped the car.
It's alright, I'm sorry. It was
my fault, it wasn't a good idea.
That was the "Hollow Car," John.
Just time to see tail lights of a van disappearing in the gloom.
A Volkswagen van? Are you sure?
60: INT. LIVING ROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
Rain lashes the windows. But a lot of improvements inside. New
paint and now carpet. Not a lot of furniture but it looks nice
enough. There's even a fire in the grate. BERLIN sits at a tab-
le on the phone. The Voice he's hearing will [talk in brackets]
.. [is it a two door, slide door, a
what?] I don't know [Well, you gotta
get closer than just a V.W. van. You-
're talking maybe 10/15 thousand veh-
icles?] What happens if you just run
the name "John" against all of them?
Heads for a sofa. Paperback of "Hamlet." TV on without sound.
[Frankly, that isn't gonna do you any
good. You'll be knocking on doors all
over the state. You gotta request tho-
se "Jennifer" files - maybe something
in them, give us some kinda reference?]
Christmas ads interrupt the movie. BERLIN sighs in frustration.
Starts doodling on the paperback. Shakespeare acquires glasses.
I can't request anything right now ..
push one more inch, I lose the lot ..
[Well, listen, I'll run the Bay Area
for you. But if you want a print-out
of every John in California with a V.
W. van, that's gotta be official. I'm
sorry] .. That's O.K. Thank you, Dan ..
61: INT. CHIEF'S OFFICE. POLICE STATION. DAY.
A painting of Ronald Reagan fills the screen. So awful it's al-
most impressive. Next to it is a formal photograph of the City
Mayor (Mr Heineman) . BERLIN continues to wait with eyes switch-
ing to a picture of the Taj Mahal. "I love to paint." He turns
as CITRINE walks in. "It's not great art, but I change the col-
ors." Heads for his desk and sits dispensing with the crutches.
I'm shutting you down on
this "blind thing," John.
Is that my punishment for
embarrassing Mr Heineman?
Don't underestimate me .. the
Mayor's pissed - but that's
nothing to do with this - sit
down - How many times have you
been up at that institute?
Three or four.
I'm talking, outside the girl?
Got a letter from this Goodridge guy?
Says, you're upsetting his students?
He says, you freaked one of em out?
(Reading the letter)
"Asking a newly blind kid if he can
'see,' is both cruel, and dangerous" ..
He floats the letter across the desk and hears the explanation.
I never asked if he could "see." I
just asked one or two of the stud-
ents if they remembered anything?
And did they?
CITRINE rubs his forehead in preparation to change the subject,
I'm not a nasty man, John, I'm a nice
man .. I get a lot of Christmas cards
(a lot of cards on the wall)
.. and I'm getting a lot of complaints.
The guy you replaced was something you-
're not - a lazy sonovabitch - but the
reality is, I was getting a faster ser-
vice outta Popeye than I am outta you ..
I can't allow this to continue, John ..
If there was any argument to be had BERLIN would be arguing it.
I don't want you up at that institute
again .. and I'm flat-out about that ..
I'm sorry, I know it means something
to you - you can go tell your witness
if you feel you must - but as far as
you're concerned, the case is closed ..
62: EXT. CITY STREET. CITY OF EUREKA. NIGHT.
Colored lights strung across the street. Symptoms of Christmas
everywhere. Store windows full of trashy decorations and every-
thing soluable in mist. ROSS and BERLIN develop out of it like
Polaroids. Their destination is a dingy looking downstairs bar.
God, it pisses me off, Ross.
No God, Brother. If there was
a God, asses wouldn't be at
the perfect height for kicking.
63: INT. "ANGELA'S BAR." CITY OF EUREKA. NIGHT.
This is the local Copper's bar. It's full of cigarette smoke &
Coppers. Laughter & sugar music. "I'll Be Seeing You." "Sentim-
ental Journey." Either one of these is playing. Familiar Faces
among those drinking at the bar. The forty-two-year-old BLONDE
serving them is busy. She is in possession of very big breasts.
Can I buy you a beer, Sergeant?
Don't try and ingratiate your-
self with me, Venables. But just
this once I'll have a Heineken ..
and John here will have one, too.
ROSS pokes VENABLES a surreptitious 20 with eyes on the BLONDE.
Right now she's far end of the bar delivering a beer to BISLEY.
(Look at those Amazingly Bos-
oms) You wanna beer, King Jay?
No, I gotta go .. I'm nights ..
TAYLOR gets a last cough out of a cigarette before stubbing it.
Gimme a ride?
And he's already gathered his shit and halfway into his jacket.
How's that hand-job comin along, John?
BERLIN makes a gesture he'd have trouble understanding himself.
Hey, we're not talking "talk" tonight.
No one's gonna make that Gent. Six
months investigation, & the nearest
we got, we thought he was a sailor.
By now TAYLOR is moving through the crush of faces behind them.
Yeah, in and outta Frisco on
the big boats .. Every lead
we had went right out to sea ..
Night, night, Freddy T .. John ..
How come he's suddenly so forth-
coming? I'd like to kick him right
in the ass. If he'd discussed it
with me, I mighta gotten somewhere ..
I never knew about the sailor the-
ory, Ross. He might have that one
little thing I need in his files?
John, stop it. The case is on its ass,
you're closed. (Reaches for a menu.)
C'mon, let it go for once .. Have a
drink. C'mon, relax, drink your beer ..
And just that one moment of insanity as BERLIN downs it in one.
Alright .. Let's have some wine ..
64: INT. BOOTH. "ANGELA'S BAR." NIGHT.
A shabby booth with black and whites of the two unrecognizable
Celebrities who ate here. Hamburgers are almost over and a bot-
tle of wine almost drunk. Both look tanked and especially ROSS.
You gotta stop calling Los Angeles ..
You're dragging L.A. around with you
like an addiction. Look at the shit
you're putting yourself through? For
what? For nothing, I know it, I been
there. Remember me? Up to my asshole
in anger, living off the vitamins in
cigarettes? If there's a body under
the snow, fuck it. Let somebody else
worry about it. You gotta accept you
stopped living in that world, & try
and give yourself a break in this ..
Just makes to so God damned mad ..
You're a fucking great policeman, but
give yourself a break. You're here 5
minutes, you find yourself a fucking
homicide? .. Not many people could do
that in a place like this .. And you
gotta admit, there's a lot of shaky
areas in this case? .. I mean, stop
me if I'm going up the wrong nostril ..
Waving his empty at the bar ROSS communicates need for another.
How d'you know this girl isn't lying
to you .. Not lying as such, but mak-
ing up stuff to keep you coming back?
She wasn't lying about the van.
Alright, she wasn't lying about the
van. But it could have been any van?
Any little foreign diesel? .. She's
blind, Bro .. It's sad .. She's pro-
bably lonely, and you're a nice guy
to have around .. But you're getting
far too far into the element, Brother ..
You don't need me to tell you what hap-
pens when you get emotionally involved?
Alright, enough, Ross. You'll
bring on my "Nervous Tick" ...
65: INT. ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.
Very late and the only light comes from coloured bulbs pulsing
on a Christmas tree. Apparent BERLIN has had too much to drink.
Makes it to his desk and shuffles at the messages. One is just
about important enough to get a close-up. "TIME 18:52: SUBJECT:
A MAN CALLED DAN STANLEY TELEPHONED: SAYS THERE ARE 109 JOHNS
WITH VOLKSWAGEN VANS IN BAY AREA: WILL TELETYPE INFO THIS P.M."
66: INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.
BERLIN finishes typing something. Tears it out and seals it in
an envelope. Shirt sleeves and yawns. He slumps in the chair &
stares at "Jennifer 8." Fuck this for a Friday night. He's had
enough of it. Grabs several envelopes and turns out the lights.
67: INT. ADMIN/OFFICE. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.
BERLIN emerges from one office and heads for another. J.K. Tay-
lor on the door. Delivers the envelope and an his way out when
something detains him. Lights on the tree strobe through venit-
ian blinds. Illuminate bits and pieces of rattan. Plus a board
covered in Christmas cards and a pair of steel filing cabinets.
Maybe motivated by the booze? But a desk drawer is open almost
before he realizes it and he searches for a key. Nothing but a
bunch of business cards and family snaps. Taylor with his Moth-
er Taylor with his Sister (red hair like him) and Taylor with
his Dog. The drawer slams and one underneath opens. Same flot-
sam of personal junk. Scotch Tape and paper clips and more bus-
iness cards. A bottle of tablets and salad of loose ammo. Fuck
all else and he closes the drawer. But what's this? A cane let-
ter rack at the rear of the desk where he finds a pair of keys.
Excitement lasts as long as it takes to try them. Don't fit ei-
ther lock. Now he's staring at the shadows with nothing moving
but thoughts. A few moments more and he's heading for the door.
68: INT. OFFICE. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.
Massive close-up of the lock. A weird looking tool goes in and
another follows it. This bastard ain't easy even for an expert.
The frame widens to reveal BERLIN. He shuffles picks in a wall-
et on top of the cabinet. Was that a noise somewhere? He stops
to listen. wipes cold sweat away. Only thieves and foxes about.
A final twist and the lock delivers. Several dozen manilla col-
ored files from which to choose. A pair of folders titled Jenn-
ifer travel to the desk. The first is full of press-cuttings &
some gruesome looking snaps. Next file and this one looks more
interesting? A notebook full of random questions/answers/comm-
ents. A list of ships and sailing times. "MUST FOLLOW THIS UP"
Underlined twice. "CAN'T OVER ESTIMATE IMPORTANCE." Also under-
lined. Lists of numbers. Street numbers? Vehicle numbers? What-
ever they might be is history because the neon just flashed on.
TAYLOR stands in the doorway. The surprise is mutual. The play
one-sided. This is already TAYLOR's game. Smokes his cigarette.
BERLIN is up to elbows in the jam jar and up to him to explain.
.. feel like I'm getting close to
this guy .. and all the time, feel
like I'm sharpening a pencil with
a broken load .. I'm sorry, King J ..
What are you looking for?
He gestures to the right one. BERLIN feels about 2 inches tall.
I'm gonna get some coffee. When you
finish in here, maybe you'll let me
know? .. I got a report to type up ..
As he exits he tosses a bunch of keys. They crash uselessly on-
to the desk. BERLIN looks like he couldn't get a fuck with mud.
69: EXT. ROAD. TRINITY VALLEY. DAY.
The mood is low as it goes. And so is the angle. Ultra low beh-
ind the car. Just road and a blur of tires. The frame widens &
the Mercedes fills it. Brake lights on as it descends the hill.
70: INT. TRINITY VALLEY/ROAD. DAY.
BERLIN in big close-up. His face like the Music. Here come the
gates of the Institute. As he turns in he stamps the brakes. A
van veers past him. Nothing special about it except it's a V.W.
He watches it vanish up the hill with other things on his mind.
71: INT. CORRIDOR. INSTITUTE. DAY.
Christmas vacations and the building sounds deserted. BERLIN's
foot steps might be the only sound in the place. They stop and
a bell rings. Ho tries to assemble sox* kind of appropriate ex-
pression. But as soon as she opens the door it's obsolete. HEL-
ENA looks pretty as flowers & delighted he's here. She reaches
for his hands. And every new second makes it a tougher goodbye.
72: INT. APARTMENT. INSTITUTE. DAY.
Oh Jesus look at this. She prepared him a surprise dinner. And
she looks so happy about it. A pathetic little table with cand-
les and Forget-Me-Nots and can of Diet Coke by his plate. He's
barely through the door and goodbye is already in deep trouble.
I wanted it to be a surprise.
BERLIN's face gets ready for something he doesn't say. Why did
she have to do this? And why didn't he tell her over the phone?
73: INT. APARTMENT. INSTITUTE. DUSK.
A Schubert Sonata in the background. Candles low and the atmos-
phere junk. Evening already in the room and it feels like time
to go. But first he's gotta toll her something he doesn't want
to hear himself. "Would you like me to make some fresh coffee?"
I have to talk to you, Helena.
You know? How do you know?
Coz you hardly said a word
since you got here. But you been
thinking pretty loud ..
She stands and collects the cups and gets halfway with a smile.
I'll make some more coffee.
74: INT. KITCHEN. APARTMENT. DUSK.
A hiss of running water. Close on the kettle. Close on the tap.
She knows what he's going to say. And now she's alone her face
doesn't mask her feelings. She's missing him already. But does-
n't know why. Simply knows she doesn't want him to say goodbye.
She reaches high into a cupboard. Her shirt stretches over her
breasts. Christ this girl has a great figure. Carting hair out
of her eyes she returns to the sink. For an instant she's star-
ing out of the window and right into somebody's face. Tall and
weird looking. But just a glimpse before he moves rapidly away.
75: INT. APARTMENT. DUSK.
BERLIN has moved to the sofa. A shaft of dead sunlight crosses
the apartment. HELENA comes in making a brave face of it. Does-
n't realize he's moved. "I'm here, Helena." And she smiles and
changes direction. Puts the coffee tray on a table in front of
him. No music now and all sounds in close-up. Close on the lip
of the coffee pot as she pours. Close on the cup she gives him.
Everything close in Helena's world or her world wouldn't exist.
76: EXT. (P.O.V. FROM FIRE ESCAPE) INSTITUTE. DUSK.
Not a lot to look at but the man is looking in. From his P.O.V.
he's fortunate. HELENA sits facing him but BERLIN has his back
to the window. This sort of surveillance is always ominous and
here is no exception. BERLIN's explanation comes with occasion-
al use of hands. HELENA suddenly smiles so it can't be all bad.
They stand and BERLIN reaches for his coat. HELENA crosses the
room. Finds her Forget-Me-Nots and now they're his at the door.
As he takes them he takes her hand. Kisses her finger tips and
can't avoid embracing her. They kiss like awkward kids bumping
noses. Finally part and disappear into the dark of the hallway.
77: INT. ELEVATOR/CORRIDOR. INSTITUTE. DUSK.
BERLIN is already in the elevator. Resists doors determined to
separate them. They shunt in and out perpetually informing him
he's on the 4th floor. "I'll call, O.K." She nods and releases
his hand. He watches her walk all the way back up the corridor.
78: INT. MERCEDES SEDAN. TRINITY VALLEY. NIGHT.
Headlights follow the meandering road. Another bend and lights
in the distance. In seconds he's passing the Diner. Still open
with cars out front including the white Volkswagen that nearly
busted his fender. He's not gonna stop. Then decides to. Makes
a U and pulls in. Parks a couple of vehicles away from the van.
79: INT. KITCHEN/LIVING ROOM/BEDROOM. APARTMENT. NIGHT.
HELENA finishes the dishes. Stacks a last plate and closes the
cupboard. Heads back into the living room. Something about the
apartment doesn't sound right? She follows the noise through a
door into a bedroom. Curtains dance in the darkness and behind
them she finds a half open window. Curious because she doesn't
remember leaving it open? Secures it and silences the icy wind.
80: EXT. VOLKSWAGEN VAN/CAR PARK. DINER. NIGHT.
BERLIN checks the driver's door. Locked and he explores with a
pencil-flashlight. Moves to a slide door at the side. Simultan-
eously the door to the Diner opens releasing a quartet of midd-
le-aged Drunks. He dissolves while they bullshit around. Laugh-
ter in chill air. The Comedian of the night keeps himself amus-
ed. Jokes about getting into the wrong car with the wrong wife.
BERLIN isn't laughing "C'mon, you drunken fuck. Get outta here."
81: INT/EXT. VOLKSWAGEN VAN/CAR PARK. DINER. NIGHT.
A slide door rolls open and BERLIN peers in. Full of furniture
and cardboard crates stenciled "TRINITY INSTITUTE - CRAFT DEPT."
Worth the try but forget it. This bastard obviously has legit-
imate business at the institute. Takes a last poke around with
the light. Spots something red. A cigarette butt caked in lip-
stick. But what's this white stuff? Some kind of powder spills
from a capsule crushed in the door rails. He picks it up for a
look and gets a bad one from behind! "Whatta you doing, Mister?"
BERLIN finds himself facing an irate looking Woman in her 20's.
A lot of red hair and freckles. But definitely more frightened
than angry. His Police Department badge is an instant sedative.
Gives her some crap about thefts from vehicles round here. She
should keep her doors locked. She smiles and thought they were.
Got your driver's license?
She hands it across and he inspects it coz that's what cops do.
I noticed you coming outta the
institute. You up there a lot?
Oh, it was you that
nearly ran into me?
No, it was you that nearly ran
into me .. You up there a lot?
I guess, more than usual this
time of the year. My mother & I
run an Arts & Crafts center, we
buy a lot from the institutes ..
Where's your store, Amanda?
Hands the license back and is already heading for his Mercedes.
Next pit-stop, you make sure your
doors are locked. Merry Christmas.
82: INT. BATHROOM/LIVING ROOM. APARTMENT. NIGHT.
If there's moonlight that's the only light. Nothing to see but
a pair of large taps. Nothing to hear but a bath filling. Then
something starts bleeping. It's a liquid-level-indicator activ-
ated by rising water. A hand searches for taps. Shuts them off
and silences the indicator. The frame expands to reveal HELENA.
She moves to a hand basin. Finds a brush and fixes hair. Finds
a clip and pins it up. Close as she kicks off shoes. Pantyhose
descend on top of them. Walks into the living room unbuttoning
her shirt. Vanishes into the bedroom and the Camera waits. Ret-
urns with towels and the Camera follows back into the bathroom.
A creaking hinge as she closes the door. A dressing gown hangs
on a hook. She reaches for it and turns and virtually bumps in-
to the Sonovabitch. Dressed in black and stealthy as a cat. He
retreats a pace deeper into the darkness. Just enough light to
see he wears glasses. And just enough light to see her undress.
HELENA unzips her skirt. Slides it down her lags. Drapes it on
a chair. Removes her shirt and hangs it on the back. She wears
a white brassiere and panties. And no apologies for repetition.
This is a fantastic body. She checks water temperature. Either
too hot or too cold. Either way a tap goes on. Now she reaches
behind her back. Unclips her bra. Gets hit with dazzling light.
The Intruder is taking photographs. And if this is his turn-on
he's in paradise. She stands in front of him in total oblivion.
Her panties join clothes on the chair. Nov she's naked and now
another picture. Again the bathroom detonates with white light.
His face is concealed by the camera. But this bastard is about
to run out of luck. Moves in as she silences the tap. Suddenly
a lot of silence about. HELENA twists in panic. She just heard
something? Didn't she just hear something? Is somebody in here?
Fear kills her scream. She hits at the darkness. But he's gone.
83: INT. LIVING ROOM/KITCHEN. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAY.
Big close on telephone ringing. No one home except the machine
and Camera. The former answers on behalf of Berlin [John, it's
me .. please call me .. I left two messages at the police stat-
ion .. they said you weren't there .. please, please, call me].
The camera moves on. Breakfast remains on the table. Newspaper
still in its wraps. Out the window a bonfire rages in the yard.
84: EXT. YARD. HOUSE. DAY.
BERLIN clears rubbish from the garage. Grime and sweat and the
effort's got him breathless. Heaves another armful on the fire.
The phone starts ringing again. This time he decides to answer.
85: INT. CORRIDOR/ADMIN. POLICE STATION. DAY.
BERLIN in a hurry to get there. Footsteps tell the story. Fast
up a corridor and through a door. Faces look as he crosses the
department. SECRETARIES and BISLEY and ROSS. But only one face
of interest. TAYLOR turns halfway through lighting a cigarette.
"Are you outta your fucken mind?" TAYLOR says nothing. "If any-
thing happens to that girl, I'm gonna break your fucking back."
Just easy on the words you're
putting in my face, Sergeant ..
Whass going on here?
A question practically every expression in the place is asking.
His blind friend got "attacked."
Angelo went up there, and some-
how, it got itself in the paper.
You put it in there.
I may have said some-
thing. I don't recall.
Don't lie, Taylor. I just had
this Blattis guy on the phone
asking me for a comment - you
gave him the whole damned case!
Alright, I gave him the case? ..
So the case is closed, so what?
His indifference inflames BERLIN. Smashes the newspaper at him.
So read it! You just hung
a target around her neck!
Don't you know nothing about this
guy? He reads the newspapers. Col-
lects the cuttings. When are they
gonna find her? Now he's reading
Helena Robertson's name, phrased
like she's a fucking witness. You
couldn't have done anything more
stupid if you'd sat down & tried ..
Hey, c'mon, country boys, let's
all line up and hear the expert.
Just walk away from me, Taylor ..
Now the volume is going up. Now the whole department is silent.
You think you're the only guy
ever worked a homicide? I was
a big-city cop too. And I bust-
ed the clock on fucken Jennifer.
I know more about this man than
you'll over know - and that's
how I know it ain't him - you-
're investigating a soap-opera ..
Alright, guys. We stop this now.
He tells her, "bye-bye," and she
gets "attacked." Well, give me a
fucking break! There is no "Ser-
ial Killer." Stick her name up in
neon, there's still no Serial kil-
ler! And I ain't the only one say-
ing it. Everyone in this building
is saying it. And I mean everyone.
"Everyone" means ROSS. BERLIN looks at him. And his gaze hurts.
Shut up, King Jay ..
No, c'mon, Freddy, let's have this
out & over. You know what everyone
thinks? They think you're making a
case coz you found yourself a nice
piece of ass. And no one's blaming
you for it, I hear she's worth the
flowers. But don't come in here get-
ting holy over us. Sure I put it in
the paper. Coz I wanted to stop this
bullshit. I don't want you drunk out-
ta your head searching my office ag-
ain. it's pissing me, & everyone off.
You don't know what you done, Taylor.
If, your friend from San Diego was
up here, and thought for one out of
two fucken seconds, she was a danger
to him, he'da taken her out weeks ago ..
His cigarette is already stubbed and he's already walking away.
Why don't you get yourself a dict-
ionary? Look up the word "witness?"
I know what a "witness" is.
Well, her, it ain't. That bitch
is blind as a blonde fucken bat.
A big mistake Mister Taylor. Mister Berlin suddenly turns into
Harrison Ford. TAYLOR slams into filing cabinets right next to
the Christmas tree. Gets BERLIN's forearm under his throat and
fucking lucky not to get the knuckles in his gut. Both men are
heaving. No volume necessary in this room of paralyzed silence.
I'm gonna do something you never
did, Taylor. I'm gonna catch this
bastard. And when I do, he's gon-
na find out just how good a "wit-
ness" she is .. Meanwhile, you be
aware of me - coz I wish you ill ..
BERLIN moves away and the silence is brutal. Nothing happening
but bad vibes. ROSS and BERLIN exchange glances, And this shit
is really bad. BERLIN vanishes into his lab and the door slams.
86: INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. DAY.
BERLIN and his Dummy wearing a bra and his photographs and his
rage are all alone. And that's how they wanna be. But the door
opens and here is ROSS. Have to be a friend to survive in here.
Nothing you gotta say do I wanna hear
right now. So save yourself saying it.
I'm not in here to apologize, John.
I told you what was gonna happen &
it's happened? "Good-bye, Princess,"
& the same night she gets attacked?
That's a tough one to swallow, Bro?
I'm already familiar with Taylor's
You don't really believe this?
One hundred fucking per cent! ..
And you know why? Coz I never
told her good-bye. O.K.? Is that
good enough for the "committee?"
And as long as you like evaporates before ROSS can speak again.
Well .. I didn't know that ..
No .. You didn't know that ..
BERLIN is drinking whisky. Sticks another slug in the cup. Now
realizes whose bottle this is. Slams it somewhere on the bench.
Here. You left your booze in here.
Who d'you think it was?
Ross gets the kind of smile a smart guy wouldn't give an idiot.
You think it was him?
That's a very stupid question, Ross.
I'm asking it.
How the hell do I know who? Some
jerk-off. Some peeping-tom prick.
His hand has found the switch-blade. A nasty click as it opens.
.. but definitely not him. This
guy's in the trade. He's not gon-
na stand there looking at her ass,
if he's in the room, she's dead ..
BERLIN puts the knife in his Dummy. If she's alive. She's dead.
Ease off, John ..
I'm sick of this toy town shit.
Everything you say sounds reason-
able. But there's also a reason-
able explanation for the opposite.
Don't give me that! Not another
word! When you had the Fat Lady
in there, and I asked you if she
was lying, you looked me right
in the eyes and said yes. So as
far as I was concerned, she's ly-
ing. And if the King of fucking
England had walked in & told me
different, I wouldn't have bel-
ieved him - because you told me ..
This atmosphere would stretch any friendship to breaking point.
And now I'm telling you. I'm looking
you right in the eyes and telling ya,
there's a "bad man" out there, and I
don't know if he's in the next room,
or the next state: and I don't know
what his trigger is? But if he reads
her name in the newspaper, I believe
he'll be inclined to do something ab-
out it. I've got a bad feeling. And I
been doing this too long to be wrong.
There are tough eyes to look into. And ROSS finally looks away.
I dunno what I can do to help you?
I dunno what I'd do with your help.
I've gotta take her out of there ..
What about Citrine?
Screw Citrine. He can fire me.
87: EXT. LANDSCAPE. COUNTRY ROAD. DAY.
Wide over the countryside. The car is a long way off. A pretty
magic looking dawn. Cows on hills and mist in the hollows. The
Mercedes finally arrives. Up the track and into the (refurbish-
ed) garage. Engine off and little but a sound of singing birds.
88: INT. LIVING ROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAY.
HELENA sits on the sofa. She's a lousy liar and having a tough
time with the phone " .. my aunt called twice .. well, soon, I
hope so .. right now, I'm scared to be there .. who? .. just a
second .. O.K. .. just a second.. Goodridge wants the number?"
She seeks decision from BERLIN who doesn't want him to have it.
Mr Goodridge? .. I can't find it ..
No .. there's no one here to read
it right now .. Well, yes, I know ..
of course I will .. yes, promise ..
I'll get it and call you tomorrow ..
And that's it except for "Goodbyes." He takes the phone and re-
places it. Her expression is a toss up between guilt & anxiety.
I feel really bad about it, coz
they invited me for Christmas ..
Has he got your aunt's address?
I don't think so .. He said the
police had been calling .. want-
ed to ask me some more questions ..
(She doesn't know)
Probably Angelo .. I'll take
care of it .. Don't worry, we-
're gonna find this guy, and
everything'll be O.K. .. O.K.?
Only thing he fails to mention is which guy he's talking about.
Anyway the subject is already changed. He notices tapes in her
bag. "Would you like me to put your music on?" No, she doesn't
want music. O.K. He's gonna light the fire and make them lunch.
99: EXT. WOODSHED. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAY.
BERLIN is splitting logs and HELENA is sitting an a step "watch-
ing" him. She's looking almost happy with only worry in the way.
You're looking worried again, Helena?
No I'm not.
You're looking more worried now than
when you "decided to stop worrying"?
Alright, I'm worried about Christmas.
I wish I hadn't told him I'd be back ..
A log tangents off. BERLIN retrieves it. Tosses it in a barrow.
He'll get over it. I'll roast
us a chicken, O.K. With cand-
les around it. How about that?
A distant owl hoots. She knows he's smiling. She's smiling too.
Wouldn't it be better if I cook
it? You said, you can only boil?
90: INT. LIVING ROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
The Music is Puccini. Part one/Act two/The Humming Chorus from
Madam Butterfly. Giant close of the spinning cassette. The Cam-
era remains close as it explores the room. Candle light & fire-
light. Along a mantlepiece. Eleven thirty-five on a clock. Two
Christmas cards. Several photographs from the happy years. One
a picture of Ross & Berlin in uniform. Another features Berlin
with his arm around a beautiful young lady with long dark hair.
For a moment it could be Helena? But the Camera's already gone.
HELENA cuddles knees in the corner of a sofa. Looks considerab-
ly more relaxed. But there's a tension here and both are aware
of it. Stifled yawns. She stares at him and BERLIN stares back.
A billion people in love have been through this. It's bed-time.
[A suggestion of Berlin's bed to be is heaped in pillows/blank-
ets at the end of the couch.] "Come on, I'll take you up there."
She finds his hand and stands. The Music follows them upstairs.
91: INT. BEDROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
Moonlight through the windows. They are silhouettes. They want
to embrace but in a situation like this a bedroom is the worst
place to be. No sound except the Music. And what's anyone supp-
osed to say? This atmosphere is about kissing and nothing more.
Christ hear this Music. A sweet pulse of Puccini. Big close of
lips meeting in moonlight. Now in each other's arms. They kiss.
And then they're kissing. And nothing else is happening in the
whole fucking universe except a telephone just started to ring.
Still ringing. Still kissing. Somebody has got to give in. The
phone finally gets answered. The voice at the end isn't expect-
ed. But BERLIN sounds pleased to hear it. It seems one problem
got solved. "I gotta tell you, Margie. You are Mrs Santa Claus."
92: INT/EXT. KITCHEN/REAR ENTRANCE. ROSS'S HOUSE. DAY.
Is Ross throwing a party or opening a bar? Crates of booze and
stack upon stack of beer. A bit of "where do you want it?" act-
ing from BERLIN as he staggers in with a delivery of Bud. ROSS
makes room on a table. Rips a beer out the plastic and pops it.
Can't thank you enough, Ross ..
Don't thank me. Thank Margie.
Swallowing beer ROSS exits the back door with BERLIN following.
It's her invitation. And as
far as Citrine in concerned,
better we keep it like that.
The wagon waits outside with a few crates left to unload, BER-
LIN heads for his Mercedes with ROSS calling after him. "John.
Here." Pulls a six pack from his supplies and throws it across.
There's an old desperado in
one of the cells. Why don't
you give him this, and tell
him happy Christmas from me?
93: INT. BEDROOM. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. DAY.
The Girls prepare for festivity. They got a full length mirror.
A wardrobe of dresses. A menu of shoes, What they do with them
in this scene is their affair. Right now MARGIE's holding some
blue number in front of HELENA."It's blue silk. You like blue?"
Not "you" blue. This isn't you.
She slings the dress on the bed. It joins a pile of rehearsals.
Moves deeper into her dresses and HELENA appears in the mirror.
When did John divorce?
Two or three years ago.
What was she like?
Suzanne? Very pretty. She was a semi-
professional model. But a policeman's
wife she wasn't. So one day, she just
packed it and left. And his whole life
went straight down the nearest toilet.
What does that mean?
You know, he crashed. He just couldn't
come to terms with it .. John hates to
lose, and he hated losing her .. Every
spare minute, he's driving down to San
Diego, having a terrible time with her,
getting drunk, and driving back .. you
just don't believe the amount he drank ..
She pirouettes with black sequins. "What do you think of black?"
Evidently not much and MARGIE is getting short of alternatives.
Wait a minute, I just had
the most brilliant idea ..
You think he still loves her?
Think he still thinks about her. But
not like then. Then was an obsession.
She emerges from the wardrobe with red satin high heeled shoes.
Here .. try these .. if these
fit, we got the perfect dress ..
I haven't worn heels since I was 16.
I don't think I could walk in these?
Sure you can. Anyway, parties
are all about standing still ..
HELENA is excited to try them out. The experiment is a success.
I'll go get the dress .. It's kinda
sultry .. I only wore it once, coz
in reality, I can't get away with it ..
You think John would like it?
I think John, would love it ...
94: EXT. HOUSE. NIGHT.
The Ross residence looks like an ad for J&B. Warm yellow light
from the windows. Holly wreath on the front door. The Mercedes
pulls up and BERLIN gets out with his bag and suit on a hanger.
A hard wind around the house. He walks inside without knocking.
95: INT. DEN. HOUSE. NIGHT.
The den looks like a little museum. Walls decorated with Civil
War memorabilia. One wall occupied by a cabinet of modern guns.
ROSS looks like Roy Rogers trying to look like Fred Astaire. A
powder blue evening suit. Ho dumps ice in a barrel full of Bud-
wieser and BERLIN produces a couple of presents. "This is from
Helena. And this is from me." The first obviously a music tape.
ROSS holds it to his ear. "Sounds like Frank Sinatra?" And the
second a bottle of (Ross tears the wrappings off) Chivas Regal!
Let's do one of these right now,
then we'll hide the sonovabitch.
But he's already lost BERLIN's attention. MARGIE walks in with
HELENA. Jesus what have you done to her? Bright red lipstick &
jet black mascara and dress made of blood red sequins. Sexy it
is but her it isn't. She looks like one of those big tit dopes
from Tennessee. She also looks like 37 million dollars. Christ
that smile works with paint. An appraisal comes from ROSS "Wow."
96: INT. LIVING ROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
The whole house is going around in a haze of booze and colored
lights and laughter. Buddy Holly supplies the music "True Love
Ways" and ROSS is a victim of the nostalgia. Dances close with
MARGIE. Among the kaleidoscope of passing couples are HELENA &
BERLIN. Eyes closed and oblivious of everything but each other.
But someone is staring at them. About forty years old with big
hands. Too old for acne but the skin is bad. Got a scar on his
cheek like a ladder in a stocking. He continues to stare until
the dancers separate. Music ends and he's already in the crowd.
BERLIN arrives with a whisper for MARGIE and next thing HELENA
is on her arm heading for the stairs. Obviously a "ladies room"
run. Everly Brothers next record up and SERATO appears through
the crush. Spots ROSS who wants to know "What happened to you?"
Duty Sergeant fucked up .. can
you believe it, I'm on tonight ..
"How long have you got?" "One big drink." And they head for it.
Did you get my message?
I left a message on your machine.
It wasn't me calling. Sam around?
This last question to ROSS who delivers a typically large shot.
Yeah .. I guess she's in the kit-
chen .. We got a so-called prof-
essional cook out there having a
nervous breakdown over a turkey ..
Are you sure you didn't call?
I spoke to old whass-his-name
a couple of times. But not to
her, and I never asked for her ..
Someone's calling the institute
to talk to Helena. Says he wants
to ask her some more questions ..
Not guilty ..
And he pushes off to see his wife. BERLIN looks around worried.
You got a quiet phone somewhere?
Hey, John, don't start getting
antsy over this tonight. It may
well have been the local cops?
That's just what I wanna find out.
97: INT. BATHROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
MARGIE fixes HELENA's lips. Big on the lipstick. Another layer
of magenta is going on "Are you sure I look O.K." Her question
interrupts the Revlon "You're the prettiest girl here by about
two hundred per cent." MARGIE moves in again for the lower lip.
How you doing on those shoes?
Don't mix very well with beer.
Perhaps she is a tiny bit tipsy? MARGIE smiles and says "Press."
Girl like you should be drinking
chill white wine. Press. All done.
A knock on the door. "Come in" and BOBBY sticks his head inside.
That woman in the kitchen says
if she doesn't get help within
10 seconds, she's gonna resign.
That woman is a disaster ...
She turns to the mirror in exasperation and mends her own face.
Alright, tell her I'm coming. No,
wait a minute, honey. Take Helena
for me, and find John? And don't
let go of her hand until you do ..
INT. LIVING ROOM/DEN. HOUSE. NIGHT.
A pause in the Music amplifies conversation. Bullshit and beer
and everyone talking about nothing. BOBBY leads HELENA through
the row. Can't find Berlin and now they're in the den. The ser-
ious Guzzlers have made it base. Everyone talking and everyone
lying but no Berlin and BOBBY is about to make a major mistake.
I'll just go see if he's in the
kitchen .. you stay right here ..
Her protest is absorbed in sound. And anyway he's already gone.
At once she is vulnerable. Doesn't know if she's staring at the
back of a head or straight into someone's face. "Didn't we meet
somewhere?" The question comes from the man with the scar. He's
drunk as a dog and already got a tattooed hand around her waist.
Hey, Fat Guy! Gimme 2 minutes. I'm
about to ask this lady for a dance?
Trash aftershave and lousy breath and clearly the answer is no.
If I told you I'd driven all the way
from Oakland would you dance with me?
Willy Nelson starts to sing. And HELENA attempts to break away.
What's so special about the other guy?
You like cops, don't you .. I'm a cop ..
HELENA finds the top of a couch. Holds it like a raft of secur-
ity. But where ever she goes this frightful mouth is following.
.. let me ask you a question? How do
you know the difference between one
guy and another? .. Maybe you don't ..
Maybe you only know the "difference"
when you're dancing? (he laughs) If
you knew what I looked like, you'd
dance with me. I look like John Wayne ..
I know what you look like. Excuse me.
She navigates the back of the sofa. Collides with somebody and
apologizes. "I'm sorry. Is anyone sitting there?" Enough ambiv-
alence in the question for the guy not to know she's blind. No.
No one sitting there. Simultaneously a pair of middle-age crew
cuts occupy the sofa. A second later HELENA sits bang into one
of the laps. Spilt drinks and surprise all round. Pleasant sur-
prise for the victim. He's a lecherous looking old bastard and
Helena's dress rides up for a damned good view of the lingerie.
Happy Christmas, Max ...
I normally get socks ...
Every humiliation there is. However HELENA gets out of this is
however she achieves it. But by the time she does she's crying.
99: INT. HALLWAY/STAIRS. HOUSE. NIGHT.
A calm spot between kitchen & stairs. In the background Guests
raid the kitchen for food. BERLIN looks like he should be smok-
ing a cigarette. At last MARGIE comes downstairs with the news.
She wants to go back
to the institute ..
ROSS already arrived. BERLIN looks desolate. She can't go back.
You better go talk to her ..
ROSS watches him walk upstairs. His eyes an assessment of this
absurd relationship. "All sorts of people fall in love, Darlin."
I know .. ain't it a shame ..
100: INT. BEDROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
A wedge of light as BERLIN walks in. Then moonlight again. HEL-
ENA sits at the edge of a single bed. Hair a wreck and mascara
streaks down her face. He sits identifying himself with an emb-
race. Clears the hair from her eyes and kisses where the tears
were. "It was an accident .. everyone has accidents." Whatever
he said would be the wrong thing to say. Because he doesn't un-
derstand. And her only explanation of this misery is new tears.
I can't walk in these shoes ..
Gently he reaches down and takes off her shoos "You don't have
to dress like this for me." And suddenly the mood is different.
He is amongst her tears. Kissing her mouth. Already undressing
her. Her dress glides up. Silk stockings. He unclips them. She
feels his hands drift down her legs. Hears the zip opening her
dress. She returns his desire and helps him with her brassiere.
He kisses her breasts and by now the Camera's too close to see.
101: INT. BEDROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
HELENA asleep in BERLIN's arms. Just the worry of the wind. He
kisses her and slips out of bed and everything slams into MASS-
IVE CLOSE-UP. PLUS A MASSIVE AMPLIFICATION OF SOUND. THE SLIDE
SNAPS BACK ON A 9 MILL BERETTA. THE MAGAZINE SHUNTS OUT. SLUGS
LOADED AND MAG BACK IN. THE SLIDE TRAVELS FORWARD BIG AS A CAR.
BERLIN is fully dressed. Geared up for work. Black leather glo-
ves and black leather jacket. Shoves the Beretta into his belt.
From somewhere a very soft sound of Christmas carols drifts in.
102: INT. STAIRS/LIVING ROOM/DEN. HOUSE. NIGHT.
This is deep past midnight, The house is quiet and gone to bed.
Fallout from the party everywhere. Still that distant sound of
carols. BERLIN dumps his bag and walks into the den. Just dark-
ness and the forgotten tape machine. Flips on a lamp and tries
to open the gun cabinet. Still trying when startled by a voice.
You can't get in there ..
That's "Comanche Proof."
BERLIN swings round in surprise. ROSS is half asleep on a sofa.
Jesus. What are you doin?
I spose I'm drinking myself to
sleep. It's Helena's Christmas
songs .. they're really pretty ..
"Silent Night. Holy Night" and about two inches of Chivas left.
Have you got any Glasers?
BERLIN sticks a foot on a table. Pulls a .25 Walther automatic
from an ankle holster. Ejects the mag and clicks out the slugs.
What exactly you doing, John?
I'm going up to the institute.
This "cop" that's calling, thinks
she gonna be there over Christmas.
ROSS unlocks a cabinet and BERLIN is about to load the Glasers.
I checked with the locals and our
station, no one's called. Whoever
it is, isn't the police. I think
this bastard's getting worried ab-
out something? .. and I think the-
re's just a chance he'll turn up.
Well, let's hope he does ..
ROSS selects a 12 gauge Winchester and rams the mechanism open.
And if he does, I'm gonna
drop a bomb on the fukker.
Listen, you don't havta come?
ROSS is stuffing solid lead "car killers" into the pump action.
Watch my lips. I'm your partner.
103: EXT. SHASTA-TRINITY INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
This is probably a crane shot. A gale works up the valley. The
institute is in total darkness. Not a vehicle out front. Not a
sound except the marauding wind. Ross's Chevrolet is concealed
amongst trees. Been here long enough to allow slow flurries to
accumulate. It stares towards the building maybe 75 yards away.
104: INT. CHEVROLET SEDAN. NIGHT.
BERLIN wears a black wool hat. ROSS a big black overcoat. Both
got shit frozen out of them. A bottle available and anyone who
wants a slug better help himself. Plus sleet on the windshield
and a lot of stale time. BERLIN asks what time it is? And ROSS
takes a heave on the booze and waits for about a week to go by.
Where's your watch?
I guess by the bed.
It's twenty of three.
Yawns do a circuit. ROSS flops in his seat and the angle chang-
es. The view from the rear covers windscreen and back of heads.
A little young for you, Bro?
(Gets his eyes)
You think if she could see,
she'd be hanging around with
an old dog like you? You got
a stomach growing around to
meet itself behind your back.
Bull shit .. I'm in my prime ..
What d'you mean, "bits."
A star-light on the windshield. Distant and nobody seen it yet.
Policemen's bodies age at diff-
erent rates. Look at me. Gut in
its fifties. Balls in their six-
ties. And feet in their eighties ..
Hit those wipers, Ross.
Urgency snaps him into close-up. Big noise as wipers clear the
screen. "I thought I saw a light?" BERLIN stares at the instit-
ute through small binoculars. "There. Flashlight went right ac-
ross those windows!" Instant excitement as the adrenalin pumps
in. "Fourth floor. See it? He's fucken in there!" And suddenly
everything including super-sinister Music is happening at once.
105: EXT. CHEVROLET. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
Pines singing as the gale tears into them. Clutching his Winch-
ester ROSS opens the trunk. A dim light and a fluster of equip-
ment. BERLIN sorts out a pair of radios. Selects a channel and
ROSS whispers "What are you on?" ("local Tac.") Here come huge
12 cell flashlights and the intense whispers continue. "Local?"
What if we need a back up?
We're not here. I don't
want the desk to hear us ..
O.K. it's channel 4 and copy? And they're already on their way.
106: EXT. BACK OF BUILDING. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
The storm bullies its way around the building. Lights approach
quickly. But one of them is already fading. It belongs to ROSS.
This fucker's got about 5 minutes in it. And whatever the plan
was it just got changed. BERLIN looks around in apprehension -
going in there alone ain't no joy - his flashlight ascends the
fire escape. And there it is 2 floors up. A half opened window.
Alright. I'll start at
the top, and work down.
You ain't going in alone?
That's a liability, Ross. I
don't want you hanging on to
my shirt. Anyone but me comes
down these stairs, take em out
but try and keep him alive. I
want this bastard living ..
Takes off up the stairs. ROSS watches him vanish. (Waiting out
here ain't so tasty either.) The wind rages in nearby trees. A
door slams repeatedly somewhere a long way away. [Ross?] "10/2"
[I'm going in.] Big on ROSS and the radio. "You take care, Bro."
107: INT. REAR STAIRWELL. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
BERLIN climbs through the window. Drops down and waits to orien-
tate himself. He's on a small landing midway between flights of
stairs. Different kinds of noises in here. One hundred per cent
more sinister. "Ross. Ross? You hearing me?" [10/2]. "I'm going
upstairs." Snaps the safety-catch on his Beretta. And it sounds
ominous. Every shadow in this place is animated with foreboding.
108: INT. STAIRWELL/CORRIDOR. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
Looking down the stairwell. The light comes up. BERLIN arrives
on another floor. Hard to sweat in here but he's doing it. His
progress is distinctly cautious. A harsh wind rockets down the
stairs flapping a pair of owing doors. BERLIN eases through in-
to the corridor. At its far end is the elevator. He travels to-
wards it in an eerie piston of light. [John? What's happening?]
109: EXT. REAR OF INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
ROSS has moved into the shelter of a wall. Sleet passes almost
horizontally. His flashlight is over. The color of a tangerine.
[I'm on Helena's floor .. I'm
just gonna take a look at her
apartment .. You O.K.] Fucken
flashlight's kaput .. [Door's
locked .. shit] What's happen-
ing, Brother? [I can hear some-
thing? .. Something upstairs?]
110: INT. CORRIDOR. INSTITUTE. NlGHT.
BERLIN stares up at the coiling "I can hear footsteps .. right
up above?" They disappear into the gale. Doors beat at the end
of the corridor. He moves towards them and pushes out onto the
stairway. Nothing but the wind. He's about to climb when an al-
arming voice shocks him rigid. "YOU ARE NOW ON THE THIRD FLOOR."
BERLIN is already running. Light swinging wildly as he sprints
back up the corridor. Fifteen yards to elevator/stairs. Breath-
less as hell he hits the radio. "Fucker's in the elevator." Al-
most jumps stairs in haste. Bursts out onto the 3rd floor. Ham-
mer back on the Beretta. Just in time to see the doors closing.
"Get ready, Ross. He maybe coming down." But he isn't. He's go-
ing up. By the time he's recovered breath the Voice is back in
business. Whoever rides the elevator is now on the fifth floor.
111: INT. STAIRWELL. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
Totally breathless now. Eyes ascend faster than feet. Whine of
a swinging door. BERLIN rounds the stairwell. The door's still
busy. Top of the building here and the ceilings are closing in.
BERLIN'S P.O.V. as he heads for that door. Closer. Three steps
to go. Closer. Two steps more. One step. Reaches for it. Whamm!
The door smashes into him like it hates him. So fast it hardly
happened. He staggers back. His flashlight clatters downstairs.
Banisters capsize as the light passes. Every shadow goes crazy.
The flashlight arrives at a lower level. Rolls away and stops.
Wastes power into a corner. Can't see Berlin and can't see his
radio. But Ross cuts into the silence with increasing disquiet.
[John? John? Are you al-
right? .. Come in, John?]
112: EXT. REAR OF INSTITUTE/FIRE ESCAPE. NIGHT.
ROSS savaged by the gale. In considerable anxiety. Less than a
volt in his batteries. His failure to contact Berlin accelerat-
es his concern by the moment. Calls repeatedly "You hearing me?"
Big close on the radio. Fingers switch channels. Tries calling
on five/six. Still nothing and goes to channel eight. "Come in,
John?" Alright fuck it. Light or no light. He's going up there.
Still calling he barges at the wind making for the fire escape.
[You hear me? Just be care-
ful now, coz I'm coming up]
Stares up into the gloom of the iron stairs. Hardly got a foot
on the first before a Figure rushes down. Dressed in black and
very breathless. A powerful flashlight floods on dazzling ROSS.
Is that you, John? .. Ans-
wer. NOW .. Or I blow this
fucken staircase to pieces.
Thank Jesus the anxiety's over. The 12 gauge drops to his side.
What the hell's going on up there,
Brother? I been calling 10 minutes.
The light remains steady and blinding and straight in his face.
Hey, c'mon, John .. Talk to me ...
Just the sound of breathlessness. Plus a .25 Walther automatic.
Jesus Christ .. What are you doing?
It glints at the peripheries of his vision and ROSS is alarmed.
What the fuck are you doing? - It's
me - Holy shit! - John - John - Not
you - Don't shoot you crazy bastard!
Two deathly flashes in quick succession. The first practically
taken Ross's hand off. The second slams into his guts and he's
down. The Glaser is unequalled in ferocity by any other bullet.
113: EXT. FIRE ESCAPE (ATTIC LEVEL). INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
The MYOPIC JANITOR looks down. Five floors below a man lays on
his back. His shotgun discharges uselessly into trees. Another
man leans over him. Illuminates his agonized face with a flash-
light. Shoots him again point-blank in the upper body. The MYO-
PIC isn't staying for more. Hurries back along the fire escape.
114: INT. ATTIC APARTMENT. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
Wind breaks on the roof like waves. An utterly dismal room lit
by a starving light bulb. The MYOPIC arrives from the fire esc-
ape. Huge eyes behind those orb-like glasses. Picks up a phone
and dials. Piles and piles of old newspapers. Hundreds of fuck
magazines. In the kitchen section a mass of photographic equip-
ment includes an enlarger on the table a flash camera. On the
wall behind him a collage of snaps of half dressed girls. Plus
a special enlargement of Helena standing naked in her bathroom.
Gimme the police. Quickly.
115: EXT. REAR OF INSTITUTE. FIRE ESCAPE. NIGHT.
Close on a bulb in a flashlight. The merest glimmer of energy.
Barely the light to see the blood. It seeps into a long-frozen
footprint in the ice. Fills it fast and expands over the sides.
Somebody say this can't be happening? BERLIN crumples to knees
in the snow. Dumps his light gasping for breath. Oblique light
creating desperate silhouettes. BERLIN howls like a dog. Howls
into his radio. "Nine - Nine - Nine." Blood all over his hands.
"This is a Nine - Nine - Nine - officer down." ROSS is heaving
like an old bull elephant. On the verge of unconsciousness. He
tries to speak. Got hit in the throat. BERLIN fights off tears.
"Don't talk old man." Repeats the emergency code but this time
he can't be heard. Almost imperceptibly a Carol filters in (In
The Bleak Mid Winter) and the Camera moves slowly away. BERLIN
cradles ROSS's tragic head and the song drowns the raging wind.
This beautiful Christmas carol will articulate rhythm of these
cuts. And there will be no other sound until the sequence ends.
116: EXT. CITY STREET. CITY HOSPITAL. NIGHT.
A blue emergency light. Revolving in slow motion. Like a dream.
The city streets are a blur. The light accelerates into sudden
reality. Ambulance plus police convoy speed to a city hospital.
117: INT. EMERGENCY ROOM. HOSPITAL. NIGHT.
Close-up of MARGIE kissing her husband's lips for the last time.
Tears spill down his cheeks from her eyes. FREDDY ROSS is dead.
118: INT. WAITING AREA. HOSPITAL. NIGHT.
Outside in the corridor. Looking in at BERLIN. He sits head in
hands on a bench. This is somebody's point of view. The camera
travels up the windows. Waits at a distance as CITRINE arrives.
Pajamas under his clothes. He walks with assistance of a stick.
Neither say anything because both know what this is about. BER-
LIN stands and hands over his badge. Exits the mag and now his
Beretta. A brief word from CITRINE and he turns and walks away.
119: EXT. LANDSCAPE. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAWN.
A little house in winter meadows. Kind of pretty now it's pain-
ted. Just the first tint of pink on its roof. The Carol dissol-
ves into birdsong. Here comes the sun for a fine Christmas day.
120: EXT. VERANDA. HOUSE. DAWN.
All new paint and all new things in expectation of happy times.
A barbecue still in polythene wraps. Price tag and unconnected
gas pipe shift gently in the breeze. A brand now swinging seat.
BERLIN sits in it with shock wearing on. Expressionless of sor-
row. Though he suffers every sorrow and guilt and regret there
is. Sunlight reaches the veranda and colors the end of it red.
silent and motionless he watches the lousiest dawn of his life.
121: EXT/INT. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. LIVING ROOM. DAY.
Lights glow on the Christmas tree. Unopened presents still und-
erneath. SERATO sits smoking in silence. Listens to a sound of
plates getting stacked in another room. He looks up but not in
surprise. He just wasn't aware BERLIN had arrived in the house.
Stunned and stubbled and full of grief. And that's just SERATO.
Taken Bobby to her sister's ..
This atmosphere is unbearable and even these whispers seem laud.
They were going there anyway.
Does he know?
SERATO shakes his head. Loses his cigarette. And SAMMY appears.
Thinks his dad's in hospital.
SAMMY SERATO is 30 and pretty. She continues collecting plates.
Why'd you go up there, John?
Knows he's not going to get a reply and doesn't bother to wait
for it. HELENA materializes from the den like a shadow. Sallow
for want of sleep and glad to have BERLIN's hand to hang on to.
I want you to go to your Aunt's.
A suggestion that surprises HELENA. And clearly doesn't appeal.
Why can't I stay with you?
It's not possible right now.
Please don't ask no quest-
ions now .. Not right now ..
If silence can intensify it's now. Sound of the front door and
then footsteps. BERLIN freezes as MARGIE appears. Wracked with
grief. Dead sickness of tears. Like she cried bones out of her
face. But no weeping now. Maybe shock. Maybe brave. Maybe both.
Is that Margie?
I'm here, honey. I'm right here.
The strongest face in the house. And now HELENA is in her arms.
Don't cry darlin .. he was a big
old cop and he didn't like tears ..
Dead echos of plates in the kitchen. And song of birds outside.
Feels like every second in my life,
was just the moment leading to this.
Raises her hand to silence him and this is silence Margie owns.
Christ this is just awful. HELENA crying and BERLIN on the way.
What's gonna happen now, John?
She has an aunt, in Vermont.
I'll take her there tonight.
I'm going back to the institute.
No .. not now ..
Helena can stay here if she'd like
to .. I'd like her to .. I'll look
after her .. and she can look after
me .. I'm tired now .. I must sleep ..
Footsteps again as she walks out and silence again like before.
122: INT. BEDROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
The Camera will slowly crane down on BERLIN. Fully dressed but
wiped out he lays an the bad. Last thing he needs is booze. He
is clearly full of it. Drifting in and out of consciousness. A
nightmare either side of the line. He relives that night again.
And Ross is alive again as guilt and regret demand to be heard.
You want me to make a predict-
ion? This guy ain't turning up.
Maybe not .. What time is it?
Twenty-six minutes past two ..
You shouldn't have come, Ross.
Don't worry .. You take your
time .. I just wanna be back
in time for Bobby's presents ..
A memory that is too terrible to bear. BERLIN gets up and sits
at the edge of the bad. Head in hands. Wants the pain to go aw-
ay. But anguish is stronger than alcohol. Hears noises outside
and makes it to a window. Tears curtains back revealing lights.
His Mercedes hangs in space as though staring into the bedroom.
123: EXT. FRONT YARD. HOUSE. NIGHT.
The Mercedes descends onto a low-loader courtesy of a car lift-
ing truck. BERLIN out of his door. Almost too ruined to apprec-
iate what's happening. Crane lights and flashlights and chains
getting tightened. Couple of Strangers and a Kid he recognizes.
What are you doing, Travis?
I been told to take your car in, Sir.
I dunno, Sir. Brought you up a Chevy.
Flashes his light at a standard issue (brown) police Chevrolet.
I'm sorry, Sergeant. I did knock a
couple times. Didn't get any reply.
You got a warrant for this?
Who sought the warrant?
The man from the F.B.I.
124: INT. CHIEF'S OFFICE. POLICE STATION. DAY.
The man from the F.B.I. is 50. Black suit and wing tips. All F.
B.I. Investigators are either lawyers or accountants. And this
fellow looks like both. When he smiles it's a decaffeinated ex-
ercise. Bothers nothing but lips. This smile's always the same.
I want a 24 hour protection
of Margie's house. Otherwise
I'm not saying nothing. You
give me that, or read me my
rights, and talk to a lawyer.
BERLIN looks awful. Showered and shaved but just fucking awful.
CITRINE slips focus to the man. And St ANNE imperceptibly nods.
Alright, you got it. And I'll be
putting an Observer in with you.
I want Serato ..
Why can't I have Serato?
Coz I'm short of men & Ang-
elo won't do it .. Who ever
I got free first - you get ..
125: INT. ANTI ROOM/INTERROGATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
Close on a pair of dancing needles. They react to voice-levels
on a twin spool tape recorder. But no sound of yakking in here.
St Anne's ASSISTANT sucks a pencil. Busy with a cross-word puz-
zle. Fills in a word but the Camera isn't interested. It moves
away to discover head phones. And moves closer to hear St ANNE.
[Always figured I'd like to retire
to a little town like this - maybe
buy a boat even, do some fishing?]
126: INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. POLICE STATION. DAY.
A change of chairs. A wood chair for the subject. Mobile chair
for the man. Castors give him considerable freedom. Enable him
to back off or move in with the intimacy of an ophthalmologist.
You fish, John?
I have done ..
A side table features several pin sharp pencils. A Sony pocket
recorder. Two packets of Pall Mall reds. Two yellow legal pads.
The chair moves into reverse and he breaks a puke colored file.
Alright, let's not beat about the
bush, what ever that may mean, and
get down on it. You were specific-
ally instructed by your chief, not
to go anywhere near the blind inst-
itute? So why did you go up there?
Because of a feeling. I had a bad
feeling this man was gonna turn up.
Which man is that?
The man I detail in my report, Sir.
The report that's in his hands. (St Anne knows well which man.)
Is this an interview, or an
It's an enquiry ...
I'm not prepared to be interrog-
ated. I'll be interviewed as an
officer, who may be expected to
cooperate with the investigator.
Well, that's fine by me, John. And
I'm sure that's fine by your Chief.
He smiles the non-smile. Tosses his pencil down. And sits back.
So you thought your man might show?
Bit of a long-shot, wasn't it?
It was the only shot I had ..
So the one night you decide to
go up there, he goes up there?
That's right. Except I'd decid-
ed to go up there every night ..
Despite the wishes of your Chief?
You were prepared to fal-
sify your reports to him?
I had very good reasons for do....
Just a second, John. I knew
there was something missing.
St ANNE cuts him off to pick up the phone. Obviously something
vital is needed. "Could you bring an an ashtray in here? Got a
coupla guys who smoke in here." And attention back to the file.
You don't mind if I jump around a
little this morning, do you? Just
while I'm easing my way into this?
You're asking the questions, Sir ..
You had an argument with Ross? Ass-
aulted one of the officers, right?
I wouldn't use the word "assault."
You got a "racy temper," Sergeant?
Just something they did, on this
occasion, made you lose your rag?
Not they. He. Taylor put a piece
in the newspaper, which in my op-
inion put my witness in jeopardy.
From the man I detail in my rep-
ort. A crazy man, who to my cert-
ain knowledge has killed at least
eight girls. Six in San Diego, one
someplace else, and one up here ..
Not a lotta support for that
"scenario" though, is there?
Not a lot.
Not even from Ross?
Is that why you lost your temper with
him? Frustration? No one believing you?
His ASSISTANT brings the ashtray. And St ANNE smiles gratitude.
So what can you tell me about you man?
What do you mean, Sir?
I mean, who is he?
I don't know who he is. Who's
"Jack The Ripper?" He's Jack
The Ripper with an automobile.
You didn't run a profile?
No, Sir .. I didn't have the res-
ources, and it isn't my expertise.
This crazy man? What makes you think
he wants to eliminate Miss Robertson?
You read my report, Sir.
I'm asking a question ..
Because he reads I'm investigating
the disappearance of her friend, &
Miss Robertson becomes the focus of
his anxiety. How good of a "witness"
is she? He's crazy, but not stupid,
he's intelligent. Got a flexible M.
O., and he doesn't wanna get caught.
Just like "Jack The Ripper?"
This is meant to humiliate and meant to annoy and it does both.
Alright, we'll have plenty of time
to discuss your "Mystery Man," and
his "flexibility" later, Right now,
I'd like to talk about the "event."
127: INT. ANTI ROOM/INTERROGATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
CITRINE rests on his cane staring through the one-way glass. A
menu of anxieties. But perhaps sadness is his principal expres-
sion. His eyes slide to the ASSISTANT "Can you turn that thing
on?" Glad to oblige and Voices cut in. This is CITRINE'S P.O.V.
St ANNE [BERLIN]
Alright, the door comes back and
hits you? Knocks you down? Knocks
you out? For how long? [I don't
know] Approximately, you figure?
A minute? [O.K.] O.K. then what
happened? Immediately you get up?
128: INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. POLICE STATION. DAY.
I realized the flashlight was
at the bottom of the stairs
Did you check your weapon?
Maybe. It would have been
instinctive. All I know was
I was in possession of it ..
You didn't check it?
Not that I specifically remember.
I don't know. I wasn't think-
ing about it .. I was dazed ..
You were woozy? Confused?
I was unconscious 10 seconds ago.
I understand. Then?
Then I picked up the flashlight,
tried to get Ross on the radio ..
Nothing. Static. I got blood on
my hand, realized my eye was cut.
Could you see out of it?
Yeah, I could see. Then I ran.
Climbed out of the window, ran
down the fire escape, and right
at the bottom, I found Ross ..
Were you breathless?
Sure I was breathless ...
When did you realize you were no
longer in possession of the .25?
Not until I was in the hospital.
You figure you lost it in the
hospital? Or on the way there?
No, I thought it must have
fallen down the stairwell.
St ANNE [BERLIN]
Like the flashlight? [Yeah] Had
you been drinking that night?
It was Christmas Eve.
That wasn't my question?
St ANNE [BERLIN]
How about Ross? [Sure] Were
you drinking in the car? [?]
There was a bottle in the car?
I think Ross had a mouthful?
But not you?
I may have had a nip?
To keep out the cold? .. Very cold
that night, very windy, wasn't it?
St ANNE motors off & refers to notes without looking at BERLIN.
Which hand was the flashlight in?
My left hand.
And the Walther was in your right?
The Beretta was in my right hand ..
You said you didn't check it? So how
d'you know which gun you're holding?
The chair moves back in and its pilot has an icicle up his ass.
You said you figured it had fallen
down the stairs with the flashlight?
You said you were confused? You pick
up the flashlight in confusion, how
d'you know you didn't pick up the 25?
Let's not start playing games, Mr St Anne.
I told you, I'd lost the Walther ..
You told me you didn't know you'd
lost it until you were in the hos-
pital? So, if you didn't know till
then, it coulda been either weapon?
The gun in my hand was a Beretta.
And for the record, I want that
note corrected. Now, please, Sir.
The dead smile and rubber in action. St ANNE changes his notes.
O.K. I'm corrected. I'm
sorry, I made a mistake.
With respect, Sir, you didn't make
a mistake. I know who you are, and
you're far too experienced for mis-
takes. Now if you have doubts over
the content, or veracity of my rep-
ort, I wanna be made aware of them?
I wanna be made aware of them now.
Do you want a lawyer, Sergeant?
There you go again? "Do I want
a lawyer, Sergeant?" It's a game
question. What do I want a law-
yer for? I got nothing to hide ..
You know I don't. So let's quit
the bullshit and get down to it.
What's your "angle," Mr St Anne?
For the first time St ANNE moves his chair into BERLIN's space.
Where's the little gun, Sergeant?
I've no idea.
If it isn't in the institute,
the man who shot Ross took it.
The man who shot Ross, used it ..
Implications are ganging up quicker than BERLIN can focus them.
And you don't know where that little
twenty-five calibre Walther's gone?
BERLIN confirms it. Looking very concerned. The wheels retreat.
St ANNE shakes out a cigarette and takes his time with matches.
O.K. Sergeant, here it is. I intend to
produce evidence, that will prove you
shot Frederick Ross with malice afore-
thought. My angle therefore, is to pre-
pare a case on behalf of your Chief, to
prosecute you for first degree murder.
129: INT. ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
The lights on the Christmas tree are off. That just about sums
it up. The word's out and it talks in barren silence as BERLIN
appears. TAYLOR and SERATO in conference at a desk. The former
looks. The latter turns away. BERLIN walks the room into close-
up. "Like some coffee, John?" Seems like ANN is the only benev-
olent face around. She gets a lost smile & bewildered shake of
his head. Disappears into his room And quietly closes the door.
130: INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. DAY.
A picture of Ross fills the frame. Snapped the day they search-
ed the dump. Blasted with rain. A waterproof cape and a finger
raised in defiance. BERLIN shifts eyes from the bulletin board.
Pours a last inch of whisky and drinks. Eyes back to the board
for a last photographic/panoramic record of his time in Eureka.
The photo of Ross again before his eyes sweep quickly on. Pict-
ure of Amber Stone. Thumb tacks and maps and tape. Information
relating to specific areas in San Diego. Carlsbad/Ocean Beach/
Point Loma. "Jennifer Seven" "Jennifer Eight." But who gives a
fuck anymore? Two dead dogs on a refuse dump. And now the dead
face of a Dummy. BERLIN stares till someone knocks on the door.
St ANNE comes in smoking a cigarette and eating a ham sandwich.
You go home, John, get some sleep.
I don't wanna talk any more today.
Aren't you gonna arrest me?
You know better than that ...
He will exit when he stops speaking. Before he does he wanders
the lab showing particular interest in the Dummy of Jennifer 8.
I arrest you, you'll get bail, and
be walking outta here anyway - and
I'll have no one to talk to - Your
Chief said he'd make you available
to me. If you go to the store, call
in, and let your duty officer know.
131: INT. BOBBY'S BEDROOM. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. NIGHT.
BOBBY is in hysterics. A gale of tears. Fits his words between
them. His Mom does her best to cope with his grief and her own.
Your Daddy would have wanted
you to be strong .. We gotta
be strong for Daddy, darling ..
I don't want her in this house ..
I want my Dad. Why did she have
to come here .. I want my Daddy ..
132: INT. KITCHEN. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. DAY.
Fingers search out and identify phone numbers. Dial for inform-
ation and HELENA whispers "I need the number for a cab, please."
133: INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. POLICE STATION. DAY.
The Camera's getting closer and so is St ANNE. And today there
is a definite change of mood. Still very measured. Still a pro-
fessional demeanor. But a bad sense of shit about to come down.
.. there was a gale that night .. all
the doors are swinging .. so this door
swings back and clips you .. and down
you go .. within 35 seconds of uncon-
sciousness, you're back on the fire es-
cape, and you're confused, really con-
fused .. you don't know if Tuesdays
come in two's or happen once a week ..
Bit of a cold coming on and near enough for BERLIN to catch it.
You see a figure coming up the stairs.
Ross ain't meant to be on the stairs?
He challenges you .. and this ain't a
piece of wood with a nail through it ..
this guy's got a 12 gauge Winchester
up your nose .. and he's drunk .. and
you're dizzy .. and your eye's fulla
blood .. you ain't thinking good, and
you're seeing worse .. Wow! .. it just
went off! .. You just put him down? ..
and you get hit by a Glaser, you stay
down .. But he ain't dead .. Now, you
realize you shot your partner .. "Oh,
Suzanna, how do I get outta this?" I
know .. The "Serial Killer" shot him ..
And here comes the malice, John .. 17
seconds later, you put another one in
his throat .. Isn't that what happened?
Tell us what happened, then?
I already told you what happened ..
You're looking for an inconsisten-
cy, and you're not gonna find one,
because I'm telling you the truth.
Tell me the truth again.
134: EXT. TRACK/FRONT YARD. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAY.
A yellow cab splashes through puddles and pulls up in front of
the house. HELENA gets out and pays. No she doesn't need assis-
tance. Picks up her suitcase and the cab vanishes into drizzle.
135: INT. KITCHEN/LIVING ROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAY.
Back door opens and HELENA walks in. First thing she senses is
cold. This place smells like it hasn't been lived in since she
was last here. And last time she was here she was happy. Dumps
her case and heads for the living room. Can't see it but feels
the overwhelming gloom. Finds a couch and now she sits to wait.
The silence is almost total. But something disturbs it. HELENA
looks around. Back on her feet she tries to discover source of
the sound. Finally arrives at a table lamp. She feels the bulb
and it's hot. A large moth beats itself crazy inside the shade.
Reaches in and turns it off & the house is in virtual darkness.
136: INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. POLICE STATION. DAY.
St ANNE lights a cigarette. Attention with his notes. Sniffing
a fair bit. He's acquired a toilet roll to deal with it. Occas-
ionally will tear a sheet or two off to blow his nose. Glances
at BERLIN "You want a cigarette?" No he doesn't "I've given up."
You have? .. How about the booze? ..
How does St ANNE know? Perhaps he doesn't? Sounds like he does.
Too much booze can be very dangerous ..
memory black outs .. stuff like that ..
His attention still with notes like a quack about to prescribe.
"The Man Takes a Drink, Then the Drink
Takes a Drink, Then the Drink Takes
the Man?" .. Something like that, isn't
it? .. Anyway .. why did you give up?
I guess I was drinking too much.
I was talking about "cigarettes?"
(Score: 10 outta 10)
Find yourself getting breathless?
Specially if you're running? Which
floor did the elevator run up to?
You ran up to the fifth? You must
have been real breathless by then?
BERLIN doesn't know where this is going but he doesn't like it.
Eyes to BERLIN now and his smile looks real for the first time.
We're gonna get our "observer" in
here this afternoon. Keep an eye
on us? (He smiles) Notorious for
withholding information, the F.B.I.
St ANNE makes a note. Junks the pencil. Sits back in his chair.
Were you aware there was a janit-
or in the institute that night?
You didn't check?
There wasn't time ...
That wasn't my question?
No, Sir, I didn't check.
St ANNE breaks off to blow his nose. BERLIN looks very worried.
I'm really catching cold up
here? Must be all this fog?
What's the relevance of the janitor?
The janitor? Let me just ask you
a question - before I forget - do
you take any medication for that?
Alright, let me answer your question?
"What's the relevance of the janitor?"
Hits the cigarette like this is the one that caused the cancer.
Why don't I take you through it, from
where I'm sitting .. At some time bet-
ween 2 & 2:30 a.m. the janitor thought
he heard a vehicle approaching through
the woods. He looks out, and sees noth-
ing, no lights, nothing. Figures it must
be hunters. Some time later, he thought
he heard something else, like a door, or
a window slam? He gets up, and between
half past two and a quarter of three, he
makes a search - with a flashlight - of
the top 3 floors. Finds nothing untoward,
& goes back to his apartment in the roof.
BERLIN looks grey as sick. Knows what's coming. And here it is.
The flashlight you saw, was his. The
"footsteps" you heard, were his. The
elevator you were chasing up and down
after was empty, and is prone to such
activity, due to an electrical fault ..
Apparently it happens frequently dur-
ing gales. The gale that was swinging
the door. That knocked you down. That
confused you so much? And here we are,
back to where I'm sitting. You wanna
tell me what really went on that night?
It seems St ANNE has effectively destroyed the "Serial Killer"
scenario. Stubs his cigarette and waits for BERLIN's response.
Two people know I didn't kill
him, Mr St Anne. One's me, and
the other's the man that did.
St ANNE is winning. And they both know it. And he almost grins.
We just dealt with "the man?"
How d'you know the Jan-
itor didn't shoot him?
If St ANNE can raise an eyebrow he does. By implication BERLIN is
ditching his "Killer." During this St ANNE rewinds his Sony.
You're telling me it's his
flashlight I saw, O.K., he
sees my flashlight? And I'm
coming up the stairs with a
Beretta in my hand. And he's
frightened. He hits the door
on me. Picks up my gun. He's
running. He runs into Ross,
and in panic, he shoots him.
The little Sony snaps to a stop and St ANNE looks at his watch.
Not unless he had a gun in one
hand, and a phone in the other,
he didn't. Ross was shot at ex-
actly two fifty-seven a.m. The
janitor put a call through to
the local police, at 2:57 a.m.
You obviously realize how I can
get so accurate with my timing?
St ANNE backs off and carefully replaces the Sony on the table.
Ross switched into channel 8, &
we got a recording of the whole
incident. I was gonna play it to
you, but I got a meeting, we'll
have to do it after lunch. It's
one, let's make it back by three?
137: INT. BEDROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAY.
HELENA is curled up under blankets. Maybe day-dreaming but not
asleep. She's maybe here to keep warm as much as anything else.
Sound of a vehicle approaching and she sits to listen. The car
pulls up and its engine silences. HELENA is already out of bed.
138: INT. LIVING ROOM/PORCH/FRONT YARD. HOUSE. DAY.
Silhouette of a figure outside the front door. Someone rattles
the handle but it's locked. And by the time HELENA reaches the
door the visitor has gone. Thinking it's Berlin she twists the
key and steps onto the porch. A stale winter fog settling down.
Hardly a sound except her own voice. "John? Is that you?" Just
the rattle of local Crows and a Bull heaving somewhere in some
distant field. "John?" She cautiously descends wood stairs and
walks two or three paces before bumping into a brown Chevrolet.
Exploration of the car establishes nil. More confused than con-
cerned she listens. Country sound and not a sound out of place
Then suddenly she is alert. Something clatters somewhere. Like
cans kicked in the garage? Was it the garage? "John, is it you?"
139: INT. KITCHEN/LIVING ROOM/BEDROOM. HOUSE. DAY.
HELENA locks the front door. Moves into the kitchen. Locks the
back door. Glum silence in the house. Nothing but an old alarm
clock ticking. Then a sound like something moving. Like a door
creaking open? Was it in the garage? The living room? Upstairs?
She returns to the living room. Curtains drawn and almost dark.
The endless silence is interrupted by a rush of water in pipes.
If anybody's here they're upstairs? HELENA moves to the bottom
of them "John, are you up there? It's me, darling. I got a cab."
The only reply is more silence. She begins to climb the stairs.
One hand on the wall. She ascends slowly. Her helplessness giv-
ing way to suspicion with each new step. At the top she pushes
into the bedroom "John, are you here? Darling? Are you alright?"
Apparently no one is here. Certainly no one in the bed. And no
one in the bathroom. She reappears with an expression suppress-
ing anxiety. Feels her way past an antique wardrobe. Curiously
its door is open. A full length mirror inside. Shuts it as she
passes and for a split-instant the Man in the room is revealed.
Almost simultaneously fingers in black leather clasp her wrist.
HELENA in speechless with shock. Both she and the INTRUDER are
breathing hard. The only other sound is the wardrobe door whin-
ing open again under its weight. Manifests a reflection of his
back. Totally in black. Black wool hat. Leather jacket. Gloves.
Got really fucken lucky, didn't ya?
He backs her to the bed and sits her before releasing his grip.
The frame remains static and staring into the mirror and still
on the INTRUDER's back. HELENA stares unseeing at her own face.
I was getting kinda concerned about
you Jenny. Like, how blind are you?
Blind as your friend? Or less blind?
Coz she could see, you know. Had a
view outta one of em. But you don't
see nothing do you? Nothing at all?
He reaches into his jeans and produces a stainless steel knife.
Even closed this thing is 10 inches long. A leather loop attat-
ched at one and. He teases the metal in front of HELENA's eyes.
Can you see this, blind girl?
Not a switch-blade but by snapping it like a whip it locks out.
Gimme your hand.
Too terrified to obey and her inability momentarily angers him.
Gimme your fucken hand.
HELENA lifts her hand and he takes it. He runs the edge of the
blade over her palm. Then closes her fingers around the handle.
You like it?
She is paralyzed except for the tears spilling down her cheeks.
I cut your friend's
head off with that ..
Words come out she can barely hear herself. "You are a coward."
You say something, Jenny?
In this terrible silence she hears a double hiss of an aerosol.
I'd like to cut you. I'd like to
cut you so bad .. But ain't life
strange? You're my little buddy
now .. I guess we all got lucky?
140: EXT. CAR PARK. POLICE STATION. CITY OF EUREKA. DAY.
Fog and dusk in that order. Headlights descend the slope. Park
and CITRINE plus cane get out. As he crosses the lot a Uniform
fires up a Harley. Next face is SERATO heading for his car. He
accosts the Chief with a piece of paper. It is read with escal-
ating incredulity. This would be comic if it wasn't so serious.
She's in love with him,
Chief, and try anything?
Are you going up there?
No, I just sent Travis.
I've got a call to make.
What about the man? .. Has he
seen this? .. [No he hasn't] ..
Alright, make your call, and
get up there ... Bullshit or
not, I wanna proper statement ..
141: INT. ANTI ROOM/INTERROGATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
CITRINE walks in in his overcoat. BISLEY looks across from the
window. And the ASSISTANT up from a crossword. "Are they busy?"
No, Sir, they just got back.
Would you ask Mr St Anne
to come in here a moment?
The ASSISTANT does it via phone. And BISLEY looks over unhappy.
I hear I've been nominated
as an official "observer?"
It's either you, or Taylor?
He don't wanna do it either.
I'll toss a coin for you. But
one of you is going in today ..
St ANNE comes in blowing his nose. CITRINE shoves him the mess~
age. He reads it with similar incredulity (but perhaps a touch
more amusement than Citrine) "What d'you wanna do with it, Sir?"
What do you wanna do with it?
Let him have it .. I don't
mind putting a little salt
at the edge of his plate ..
142: EXT. FRONT YARD. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DUSK.
A single light in a downstairs room. The house is stifled with
fog. A brown police Chevy parked out front. Here comes another
to join it. As BERLIN gets out SERATO appears on the porch. He
descends stairs with the impartial expression of a working cop.
I need a friend, Angelo.
SERATO keeps it dispassionate. Ignores BERLIN's desperate eyes.
You got one.
Puts a thumb towards the house and already heading for his oar.
She's a bad witness, John.
But a fucking lousy alibi.
143: INT. LIVING ROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
This isn't a good place to be. A dismal lamp supplies light. A
close-up Of HELENA on the sofa. Hears a sound of booze getting
poured. But nothing else in the house except for a harsh voice.
.. I know why you did it darlin,
but you're not helping me. Every-
thing they're hearing they think
is a lie. Now here comes the man
I'm desperate to prove exists, &
whadda-ya-know, he turns up at my
house, and has a "chat" with you?
By now BERLIN and his glass of anaesthetic are well into frame.
No one in the State of California
is gonna believe that. They got the
man in there - an A/1 F.B.I. inter-
rogator, and he's taking me to pie-
ces - doesn't believe a word comes
outta my head - not a word - no one
believes me - I don't believe me ..
Don't say that. Don't you dare
say that .. I believe you ..
I know you're trying to help
me, but you don't understand.
Then explain it to me. I got
enough darkness, don't I?
He doesn't want to. But now he's got to. And so here it comes.
The man who killed Amber is a
psychopath. He was up at the in-
stitute to kill you - he don't
wanna kill Rose - he was there
to kill you - that's the truth -
and I didn't wanna tell it to
you - but that's the reason I
want you to stay at Margie's -
coz I can't protect you here ..
Why does he want to kill me?
Coz he thinks you're a witness.
I can't identify him ..
He don't know that. I didn't.
Then why didn't he kill me?
Back at the booze and he's almost inaudible "Stop it, will you?"
Why didn't he kill me, John?
Something snaps in BERLIN and he throws his glass at the grate.
Will you fucken stop it. I'm not
Serato .. He didn't kill you coz
he wasn't here .. he isn't in the
room with you, and lets you live ..
And just as suddenly he's full of remorse. Takes HELENA in his
arms with a lot of sorrys. But she isn't interested in apology.
There's a passion in her face. And fire even in her blind eyes.
Kiss me, John .. Kiss me [he does]
I love you, kiss me again [he does]
I love you .. Are my lips lying to
you? Kiss my mouth [he does] Is my
mouth lying to you? He. Was. Here.
144: INT. GARAGE. HOUSE. NIGHT.
Music slams in on the cut. Berlin is about to take this garage
to pieces. He searches cans and boxes and stacked timber. What
ever it is his eyes are looking. The Camera looks down from ab-
ove. Bits & pieces all over the floor but he discovers nothing.
145: INT. BATHROOM/BEDROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
Close on a hand searching underside of the bath. Pipes and cob-
webs. He reaches toward the taps. His hand is literally inches
from the Walther (taped to the end of the tub). Fingers almost
touch it. Just a fingernail away when HELENA interrupts "John?"
I just remembered something ..
And BERLIN rolls out and stares up like a mechanic under a car.
He used a breath freshener.
A "breath freshener?"
HELENA stands in the doorway and BERLIN is already on his feet.
I heard it hiss, twice.
BERLIN wipes a thought through his hair with fingers. "I don't
know what that means." Walks past into the bedroom. Everything
taken apart. Every drawer open and the bed heaped with clothes.
... he's either here to take
something .. or leave some-
thing .. I don't find nothing ..
146: INT. LIVING ROOM. HOUSE. NIGHT.
BERLIN pours last of the whisky. Looks totally snuffed out. He
and HELENA sit on the same sofa but the atmosphere puts them a
mile apart. A yellow pad on the table covered in notes. BERLIN
swallows scotch and reads to himself "I guess we all got lucky?"
You gotta stop drinking, darling.
Another mouthful of scotch & she hears the glass hit the table.
He's glad you're drinking. Every
drink you take you're helping him.
He doesn't need my help.
I know about alcohol, John.
I'm blind because my father drank.
That's what she knows about alcohol and he'd prefer to be dead.
I lost everyone I ever loved .. I
lost my hopes .. my future .. I'm
in love with you, John .. I don't
want them to take you away from me ..
147: INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. POLICE STATION. DAY.
St ANNE is close enough to kiss BERLIN. Right into his space &
talking right into his face. And today he's not in a good mood.
He humiliated you. In front of every
one .. In front of a bunch of secret-
aries? .. Well, that would piss any-
one off? ... That would piss me off ..
I'd be real mad if a guy did that to
me, & called himself a friend .. Coz
that ain't a friendly thing to do? ..
You side with "friends" .. You don't
go bitchin on them behind their back?
And he suddenly switches gear. And whispers like it's a secret.
He wasn't much of a "friend" at all?
Ross was my best friend.
Did you shoot your "best friend?"
The next time I ask you that quest-
ion, you're gonna tell me the truth.
St ANNE shunts back in his chair. Expands the frame as he goes.
Sergeant TAYLOR sits on a chair with his back to the wall. Cig-
arettes and ashtray on the table next to his. St ANNE lights a
Pall Mall and as if it's an after-thought he snaps the Sony on.
.. "Just be careful now, coz I'm coming
up." .. [Footsteps on cast iron stairs]
"Is that you, John? .. Answer .. Now ..
or I blow this fucken staircase to pie-
ces." [Sound of someone breathing hard]
BERLIN already looks devastated. He's about to got annihilated.
"Me, Freddy." .. [Just the gale] "What
the hell's going on up there, Brother?
I been calling ton minutes." .. [Lungs
heave for air) "Hey, c'mon, John, talk
to me?" [Just the sound of breathless-
ness] "Jesus Christ .. What are you do-
ing? What the fuck are you doing? It's
me - Holy shit - John - John - Not you -
Don't shoot you crazy bastard! [2 shots]
St ANNE clicks the Sony off & BERLIN is too stunned to breathe.
That's second degree - you wanna stop
at that? Will you give me that, John?
BERLIN gives him nothing but silence. A knock on the door "Come
in." And the ASSISTANT hands St ANNE a note. Reads it and excus-
es himself. Leaves the silence for BERLIN. But TAYLOR breaks it.
He's offerin you a deal?
Why don't you take it ..
He ain't offerin me shit.
TAYLOR lights a cigarette and exhales. Something of a real red-
headed fuck about him. And BERLIN would like to break his neck.
You're letting it show, King Jay.
I don't like you. But don't kid
yourself .. I don't take no ple-
asure sitting in on another cop ..
He rolls ash off his cigarette and pushes it round the ashtray.
Your an alcoholic, aren't you?
It's written in your file ..
The phone rings and TAYLOR answers. Puts his red eyes at BERLIN.
They want you to look in the mirror.
BERLIN has to find every strength for this one. Humiliation com-
pounds. Gets up and stares at his own haunted face in the glass.
148: INT. ANTI ROOM/INTERROGATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.
The MYOPIC peers into BERLIN's face. St ANNE stands close with
his toilet roll. Light refracts in the MYOPIC's lenses "I seen
him up there quite a lot." St ANNE blows his nose "Is that the
man you saw that night?" He stares again at the tormented face.
Well .. I dunno .. it could be?
Alright, thank you, Mr Dawson ..
He's escorted to the door and his space is occupied by CITRINE.
What's all this "deal" business?
St ANNE on his way to the door now. He pauses for the question.
I can have him out of here on a sec-
ond degree this afternoon. I own him,
and he knows it. And, Chief, I'm still
waiting for that warrant on his house?
149: INT. WAITING AREA. POLICE STATION. DAY.
HELENA waits on a bench in the empty room. Maybe a few scruffy
magazines? But nothing of use to her in here except she's near
Berlin. He arrives like every hope got abandoned and sits next
to her. They clasp one another's hands before she embraces him.
You don't wanna sit here
any more, sweetheart ..
I wanna be near you ...
Something difficult to tell her and doesn't know how to say it.
I think they're gonna arrest me.
I don't want them to arrest you.
It's not as bad as it sounds ..
They can't refuse me bail. Raise
bail of my own cognizance & find
the best damned lawyer there is ..
Her tears are close to his face. No one but him could hear her.
Oh, John, I'd do anything,
anything, to get you free.
150: INT. INTERROGATION ROOM. POLICE STATION. DAY.
If the waiting room felt bad try sitting in here. Both St ANNE
and TAYLOR are smoking and the Sony playing again. This is the
final part of the tape. No speech but a lot of labored breath-
ing. Ross groaning and now the sound of his shotgun. More desp-
erate inhalations and now sound of the last shot into his neck.
.. and that one's with malice ..
that one's first degree .. why
don't you stop lying to me?
(Clicks Sony off)
C'mon, John, I can help you? Why
don't you tell me the truth?
I've told you the truth. It
isn't me .. I've never call-
ed Ross "Freddy" in my life ..
I've heard you call him Freddy.
You haven't. And you got no voice
in here, Taylor, so keep it shut.
Tell a lotta lies, don't you? Some-
thing that comes naturally to you?
I don't lie.
Prepared to lie to your Chief?
Under exceptional circumstances.
What were the circumstances that
caused you to lie to Freddy Ross?
I never lied to Ross ..
Shakes his head in confirmation. And St ANNE finds a notebook.
Well, he thought you did? .. Wrote
it down in his book? "John Berlin
is a liar." Right here, underlined.
BERLIN stares at the book & can barely credit what he's seeing.
Dated the day you got your first
"break" with your "Mystery Man?"
You don't know why he wrote that?
Maybe he thought there was no "Myst-
ery Man?" That the investigation was
bullshit? That you were making it up?
And during the next attack St ANNE will work himself into rage.
Coz you wanted to be "Top Cop?" Isn't
that why you went running up that gar-
bage dump, so everyone could stand in
awe of the "Top Cop?" Isn't that why
you came up here? Coz you couldn't make
it in L.A.? Get yourself a pissy lit-
tle degree, come up here, and be "Top
Guy?" But Ross was "Top Guy", wasn't he?
Always would be Top Guy? And you know
what? He did it without even trying ..
Everybody loved him. He had everything
you wanted, didn't he? - Great woman -
Great kid? - Everything you couldn't
have? - And you wanted it to go away?
Coz your life was lousy, wasn't it? -
A lousy life, with a lousy wife, who
was fucking everyone, wasn't she? Is
that why you pick on a little Blind
Girl? - coz you can control her? - Is
that it? - Control who she's fucking?
Tears of grief and tears of rage. BERLIN can't restrain either.
You wanna lose your temper with me?
C'mon, John, lose your fucken temper?
You're good at losing your temper?..
No way, Mr St Anne.
Lost your temper with Ross, didn't
you? C'mon, tell me the truth. Is
that what happened? You had an arg-
ument in the car? Lost your temper
with him? Stood over him, blew his
fucking larynx out with a Glaser? -
Where were you aiming, John? Going
for his face? Blow his fucking face
away, because you hated him so much.
BERLIN is a wreck of despair. But somehow he keeps his dignity.
I loved that guy .. & the hard-
est thing to take in here .. is
knowing he thought I killed him ..
Well, that he did .. And
that do I, Sergeant Berlin ..
And at last he looks pleased. Because he's got this man busted.
What do you take for that
Can't take anymore questions. Answers with a shake of his head.
How about Aminophylline?
I don't know what that is.
You don't? It's ant anti-asthma medic-
ation, prescribed for breathlessness?
Produces a capsule in a plastic bag and throws it on the table.
Came out of the ashtray of your car?
Every cell in BERLIN's body freezes. Misinterpreted by St ANNE.
But you "don't know" what it is?
But he does know what it is. The pill he found in the V.W. van.
You don't know how it got there?
TAYLOR stares a rock drill and St ANNE stares something similar.
You don't use it for breathlessness?
BERLIN focuses a fragment of hope. But no sign of hope in here.
I'm running outta questions, John, and
you're running out of lies? I'm offer-
ing you one last chance, and you better
take it, or the U.S. Attorney is gonna
put you in the God-damned gas chamber ..
I need .. some time .. to think Sir ..
Alright. Think about it. But don't
you make a fool of me. You come in
here with one more lie, and I bull-
shit you not, I'm gonna press for
the maximum penalty there is. And
that's the death penalty, Sergeant.
151: INT. WAITING AREA. POLICE STATION. DAY.
BERLIN hurries in and grabs HELENA's hand. Instantly transmits
the adrenalin. They head for the door with him whispering hard.
We got a break - isn't much, but it's
a break .. the man that murdered Ross
gets asthma - it's not a breath fresh-
ner, darling - it's an asthma inhaler ..
152: INT. KITCHEN. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. DAY.
BERLIN/HELENA couldn't have been in the house longer than it's
taken to call Los Angeles. MARGIE infected with the excitement
although as yet she hardly knows what's going on. BERLIN paces
the tiles on a long phone lead. Eyes to MARGIE while they wait.
This capsule came out of a V.W. van -
I didn't even think about it - stuck
it in the ashtray - if I'd been smok-
ing, ita been thrown away weeks ago ..
No, Amanda - it's definitely Amanda ..
Another excruciating wait plus further explanations for MARGIE.
I had the van - this guy drove that
van takes his medication and loses
one .. (Phone) - Dan - Hearing - Are
you sure? - Would you try Frisco for
me? - I'll try and get a second name ..
Dumps the phone and stokes anxiety in HELENA and MARGIE's eyes.
No Amanda with a white Volkswagen ..
You don't have a Yellow Pages for
Oakland, do you? (She don't) I got-
ta get down there, find that store ..
Everything happens in a hurry. He embraces HELENA. She'll pray
for him. Already out the back door with MARGIE in tow. A black
& white parked in the drive with VENABLES stuffed inside. Plus
a grim wind tearing trees. BERLIN pauses as he reaches his car.
You be careful .. This man's close ..
Catches her eyes. Can barely look at them. They're full of hate.
If you find him, John. I want you
to call me. I wanna know his name.
153: EXT. HILLSIDE. OAKLAND. DAY.
Wide over the bay area. Wind swept and rain swept. City lights
beginning to come on. In the distance the docks and far beyond
the ocean. Somewhere here is a solitary phone booth. "I'm look-
ing for a special type of rattan .. friend of mine recommended
you, said I should ask for someone called Amanda .. You don't?
O.K. .. Thank you." Followed by sound of a phone slamming down.
154: INT. PHONE BOOTH. HILLSIDE STREET. DAY.
A stack of coins and a pair of ripped out Yellow Pages. BERLIN
crosses off another number. Running out of craft shops and run-
ning out of quarters. A new number hears the same old bullshit.
But this one is answering good! Fights to keep his voice light.
She's not there? - Let me just make
sure I got the right Amanda - lotta
freckles, right? .. Right .. That's
right, that's her .. Well, eh, what
time d'you expect her? .. O.K. I'll
eh, try and pop over this afternoon.
And he comes out of there running. The Chevy roars up the hill.
155: INT. ANTIQUE MARKET. CRAFT EMPORIUM. DUSK.
The kind of store heads open in abandoned warehouses. A jungle
of jewelry and cane furniture and ethnic junk. Many chairs of
the ilk Berlin saw in the Volkswagen van. And now he's staring
at its driver. His P.O.V. through windows. He watches as a red
headed Girl clears the till in preparation to close up. within
moments the lights are dead and AMANDA is heading for her door.
156: EXT. MARKET/WAREHOUSE. CAR PARK. DUSK.
Plenty of rain to hurry in. AMANDA. drives a red Datsun. She ex-
its the car park with a man in a brown Chevrolet following her.
157: EXT/INT. CAR/STREETS. SUBURBS. OAKLAND. NIGHT.
The Chevy tails the Datsun through city streets. A lot of rush
hour traffic. Music to go with it and it's probably Mussorgsky.
A final cut and headlights are navigating the hills. Disappear
and reappear as they ascend. Steep inclines and the houses are
middle class. Too dark to see much now but lamp posts and rain.
Still climbing the Datsun takes a side street. BERLIN keeps 50
yards behind. She turns off and parks in a sloping driveway. A
white Volkswagen van at the top of it. BERLIN has already pull-
ed over. Kills his lights and watches her hurry into the house.
158: EXT. STEEP STAIRS. PORCH. HOUSE. NIGHT.
BERLIN just rang the doorbell. Imposes an impartial expression.
But this is his last chance and he knows it. The front door is
opened & secured on a safety-chain. AMANDA carries a white Cat.
I'm sorry to trouble you, but eh ..
Wait a minute, don't I know you?
And she stares like he does not. Before she stares like he does.
You're Amanda? Remember, you near-
ly ran into me? Way up in Trinity?
His smile disarms the securities. And she opens the front door.
As I said, Sergeant, you nearly
ran into me? What's the problem?
I'm afraid it's the "van" again.
Is it your vehicle?
No, my mother's .. You better stop
in .. I'm just here to feed the cat.
159: INT. HALLWAY. HOUSE. NIGHT.
So far so good. Inside without showing an I.D. he doesn't have.
This is a gloomy place. She shuts the door. Shuts out the gale.
I'm sorry to worry you with this, but
we had a real serious robbery, and we-
're chasing a white V.W. van? You guy
came up an the computer, so as a matt-
er of routine we have to check. Could
you tell me who's driven it recently?
Only me and Mom ..
How about any guys on your staff?
We only got one .. He doesn't drive.
Would he have lent it to anyone? [No]
How bout your Dad? Husband? Boyfriend?
He is my boyfriend. My fath-
er's dead, and I'm divorced.
I see ...
His hopes are collapsing by the moment and nothing else is left.
Would you mind if I took a look at it?
I thought this was "routine?"
The Cat cries for its food and AMANDA begins to look suspicious.
The only man that has driven it in
the last 6 months is my uncle. And
no way is he involved in a robbery.
Could I have his name? Just so
I can officially eliminate him?
Maybe too much charge in his head and she doesn't like the vibe?
Could I see your badge again?
Sure she can and he searches for it. "Must have left it at home?"
Then you better go and get it. I
feel uncomfortable without an I.D.
AMANDA opens the front door just long enough for BERLIN to leave.
160: INT. LIVING ROOM/KITCHEN. HOUSE. NIGHT.
The emerging Music is full of threat. Like it's part of the dark-
ness. Too dark to see much of anything here. A sound of somebody
hammering at a door. A light outside and the Camera moves closer.
Creeps towards the door as though it's going to answer. Suddenly
glass shatters. The door flies open. Flashlights and Men rush in.
161. INT. CHEVROLET SEDAN. STREET. NIGHT.
BERLIN stares towards the house. Music and rain and a downstairs
light just wont out. Headlights go on and the Datsun drives away.
162: INT. CHIMNEY FLUE/BEDROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
A flashlight searches cobwebs and soot. Descends the chimney and
TAYLOR emerges from a long-sealed-off fireplace. Blinks dirt out
of his eyes and moves back into the bedroom. Upended bed against
the wall and everything upsidedown. The search looks like it has
been thorough. St ANNE appears at the door and TAYLOR looks over.
We're not gonna find nothin here.
163: INT. MASTER BEDROOM. (AMANDA'S) HOUSE. NIGHT.
BERLIN searches the bedroom. Anxiety and antiques. Does a vanity
and now a wardrobe. Nothing much in either. But finds a shoe box
full of letters in the latter. Postcards/birthday cards etcetera.
164: INT. BATHROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
Half the floorboards already up. VENABLES levers at another. The
music is nervous and louder. Next floorboard is next to the bath.
165: INT. BEDROOM/WARDROBE. (AMANDA'S) HOUSE. NIGHT.
Big close on a postcard (a fantasy yacht on a blue sea). The cap-
tion reads "JUST ANOTHER DAY IN SAN DIEGO." Close enough to read
the message ".. too hot .. asthma not too good .. as soon as I'm
settled I'll write .. love John .." Next letter out is also post-
marked San Diego. Inside is a happy snap of Sergeant John Taylor.
166: INT. BATHROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. NIGHT.
Almost too close to see what's happening. But a gloved hand just
found a pistol under the bath. Out it comes with BISLEY shouting.
And St ANNE and TAYLOR arrive. "Got a little Walther. It's a 25."
167: INT. LIVING ROOM. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. DAY.
HELENA looks at the floor and listens. MARGIE looks at the T.V.
and listens. Big close on the screen. This scene will intercut
between the television and those in front of it as appropriate.
 An exterior shot of Berlin's house. Sheriff's cars parked
out front. Various people come and go. One of them is Sergeant
Taylor. Perpetual wind on the sound track interrupted by a V.O.
Detectives spent several hours this
morning at Sergeant Berlin's home ..
various property was removed for ex-
amination. Later in the morning, May-
or Heineman arrived for a meeting with
police officers from Shasta Valley ..
 Heineman's B.M.W. pulls up outside the police station and
this is conducted on the move. A Reporter asks "What's the nat-
ure of this meeting, Sir?" HEINEMAN is sorry but can't comment.
He pauses briefly an the steps with the wind savaging his hair.
Jim unable to say anything right now,
except, this is a very sad and tragic
day. John Berlin lied to us all. Lied
to me, and much worse, lied to every
man, woman, & child in this community ..
WOMAN REPORTER (T.V.)
Where was Mr Berlin arrested, Sir?
Near the Ross residence .. six a.m. ..
MALE REPORTER (T.V.)
Who made the arrest?
Sergeant John Taylor. Assist-
ed by Sergeant Angelo Serato ..
HELENA looks in utmost despair. "Is it true he resisted arrest?"
You'll have to put that question
to the Chief. I've nothing to add.
BOBBY appears somewhere behind the Ladies. T.V. commentary con-
tinues. "Meanwhile, Sergeant Berlin remains in a cell at police
headquarters arraigned on what is believed to be a $500,000.00
bail. As Mayor Heineman said, this, is a 'sad day' for Eureka."
Except for the one face that isn't sad and it belongs to BOBBY.
168: INT. CORRIDOR/CELLS. POLICE STATION. DAY.
The cell window is reinforced glass. BERLIN smashes on it like
an insane man. TRAVIS (apparently on cell duty) has never seen
nothing like this before. CITRINE doesn't want to see any more.
I'll sign anything you want. Please.
Bring here her .. I want Helena here ..
You ain't talking to no
one, till you calm down.
I am calm .. I am calm ..
But he isn't and CITRINE moves off. BERLIN cracks blood out of
knuckles on the glass. Hollers up the corridor after the Chief.
Get St Anne .. I want St Anne ..
169: EXT. DRIVE. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. DAY.
Gale still making a mass of the trees. A police Chevy pulls up
and TAYLOR gets out. Puts a knuckle on the window of a black &
white. A Uniform wakes and TAYLOR interrupts his apologies "Go."
And the young Cop does the drive as TAYLOR heads for the house.
170: INT. STAIRS/LIVING ROOM. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. DAY.
HELENA descends the stairs with her luggage. She's towards the
bottom when TAYLOR appears via the kitchen. Lights momentarily
stall as the gale sucks their electricity. Ignorant of his pre-
sence she loses her bags and disappears into the den. He moves
after her and startles the shit out of MARGIE as she comes out.
Jesus. What are you doing here?
Been trying to call, your line's
down .. I just wanna let you know
we're taking the guard off today.
MARGIE heads for a table and unloads a strong-box of documents.
Is she going somewhere?
I'm taking her back to the Instit-
ute. Her new term starts tomorrow.
He watches her select various papers aware of what she's about.
Not gonna try and bail him are you?
I really wouldn't bother, Margie ..
HELENA reappears wearing a coat and TAYLOR is in generous mood.
You want me to drive her? ..
I'm through with my shift ..
No .. I'll drive her ..
171: INT. CELL. POLICE STATION. DAY.
Here's a classic twenty-two. BERLIN is consumed with anxiety &
rage. But get mad in here and get nothing. No shoe strings and
no wrist watch. But a wrist-band like something medical summar-
izing his charge. St ANNE sits impassive as BERLIN walks floor.
I'll sign anything you like - you
write it, I'll sign it. But I want
her and Margie here. I want an opp-
ortunity to talk to them - that's
all I'm asking? - That's my deal? ..
O.K. I'll put it to your Chief?
Well, you'd better put it to him
pretty dammed quick, Mr St Anne,
because if you don't, she's dead.
Didn't push her down stairs on
their previous meeting, did he?
He was up there to plant the gun.
Did Taylor plant this, too?
Produces a Zippo in a plastic sack and BERLIN's senses capsize.
Is it yours?
A question for which St ANNE expects no answer and he is right.
We found "Jennifer Eight." At least,
we've found a headless and handless
girl. A couple of hunters found her.
Maybe BERLIN asks him "Where" or maybe his expression's enough?
About 4 miles south of the institute,
less than 50 feet from the road. This
was less than 100 feet from the body.
BERLIN can't believe it and knows St ANNE wouldn't believe him.
Is it yours? - (no answer) - I know
it's yours? - You know it's yours?
The only prints on it are Freddy's?
You wanna tell me how it got there?
BERLIN wouldn't believe it either. Door open and TRAVIS enters.
Margie Ross put up your bond, Sir.
St ANNE and BERLIN look surprised. And BERLIN looks at St ANNE.
Are you getting in the way of it?
St ANNE examines the bail/bond paper and raises eyes to BERLIN.
I don't make the law.
172: EXT. THE ROSS RESIDENCE. DUSK.
Music on the cut and this is a crane shot high above the house.
A car tears up the drive with the Camera descending to meet it.
BERLIN out and into the house. And still the gale howls around.
173: INT. DOWNSTAIRS ROOMS. HOUSE. DUSK.
Darkness and silence. Where the hell is everyone? He quicks it
to the den, Cartoons on T.V. but no one watching. With escalat-
ing concern he hits the kitchen and now he's shouting upstairs.
"Margie. Margie." About to climb when BOBBY appears at the top.
There's no one here.
Where are they?
Mom took her back to the institute.
BERLIN freezes. He maybe says "What?" He definitely says "When?"
I dunno. How come they let you out?
Is Margie with her? Is she with her?
No, she came back and went out ag-
ain .. gone to see Auntie Charles ..
BERLIN has already grabbed a telephone. Aware it's dead before
BOBBY tells him "They're all out around here." He wanders down-
stairs in apparent oblivion to BERLIN's distress. BERLIN races
back to the den and new problems. Desperate to get at the guns
but all cabinets locked "Where's the keys, Bobby? I need a gun."
They're my Dad's guns.
Come on, Bobby, for God's sake. I
wanna get the man that killed him.
BOBBY stares at BERLIN as though he's staring at that very man.
I hate you .. I really hate you ..
He turns away into the darkness. BERLIN looks frantic and with-
out options. Smashes the cabinets with a chair. Grabs a 44 rev-
olver plus a 12 gauge Remington and the slugs that go with it.
174: EXT. FREEWAY INTERSECTION. NIGHT.
Wide over an intersection. Berlin's Chevy crosses a bridge and
descends into lights. Music travels with him but the Camera re-
mains static. Watches tail lights dissolve into a river of red.
175: EXT. FREEWAY. NIGHT.
Tracking back with the car. As yet 100 yards away. Moving fast
and getting closer. As it approaches a remote sound of a phone
drifts in. And headlights so near now they wipe out everything.
176: INT. CHEVY SEDAN. FREEWAY. NIGHT.
Starting to sleet and windshield wipers on. The phone is still
ringing like it's at the end of Berlin's brain. Like it's part
of his thoughts mixed up with the nightmare he's hearing again.
Go take a look in his office. It's
fulla rattan - that's the connect-
ion, that's the "link" - that's why
they never got an I.D. - He kills
blind girls - put their picture in
the newspaper, and 99 percent of
the people who know them are blind ..
Intercutting BERLIN's fearful eyes with his P.O.V. of the road.
St ANNE (V.O.)
Havta be a real dope to kill her
now, wouldn't he? I mean, we're
talking real, full-blown, insane?
He is insane. His fucken brain's
upside down. But he's also very
cunning. He's not going after her
with a "Pearl Handled Colt," he-
'll just push her down the stairs ..
Just the sound of tho phone and the road dissolving into black.
177: INT. CORRIDOR. SHASTA-TRINITY INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
A miserable corridor with the merest of lights. A phone rings
somewhere at its end. HELENA is on her way up the corridor and
the ringing is louder. Finds keys and walks into her apartment.
178: INT. APARTMENT. SHASTA-TRINITY INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
Phone in close-up and the frame widens as HELENA heads towards
it. Reaches out and is maybe a second away before it rings off.
179: INT/EXT. PHONE BOOTH. GAS STATION. NIGHT.
This is a little country stop some place an the peripheries of
the snow-line. BERLIN slams the phone down and runs to his car.
Screeches out onto the highway and the Camera begins to ascend.
The Camera climbs higher revealing somber mountains. Plus mile
upon mile of road he has yet to travel. Still it ascends until
the Chevrolet is reduced to an insignificance by the landscape.
180: EXT. SHASTA-TRINITY INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
A panoramic over the institute wide enough to include surround-
ing forest. Headlights approach down a wooded track and go out.
Just possible to see a tiny Figure moving towards the building.
181: EXT. FIRE ESCAPE. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
High on the fire escape looking down. A flashlight arrives bel-
ow. Eerie fragmentation of light as the Figure begins to climb.
182: EXT. CHEVY SEDAN/ROAD. SHASTA VALLEY. NIGHT.
The highway is winding and narrowed with snow. Couldn't find a
lousier road on which to overtake. BERLIN is right up behind a
forty ton truck and he's trying to overtake. Hits the horn and
tries again. Halfway past the trailer when a bend suddenly rel-
eases headlights. An angry claxon and he's forced to pull back.
183: INT. BEDROOM. APARTMENT. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
Although curtains are open the room is in darkness. Someone on
the fire escape looking in. A flashlight snaps on and a circle
of light explores the room. Creeps across the floor and pauses
at the bed. Climbs slowly to illuminate HELENA's sleeping face.
144: EXT. FIRE ESCAPE. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
Close-up sound and close-up picture. A glass-cutter scores the
window. A nasty noise but you'd have to be wide awake and list-
ening to hear it. A gloved fist punches the section out. Falls
to the floor and shatters. And a hand reaches in for the catch.
145: INT. BEDROOM/LIVING ROOM. APARTMENT. NIGHT.
HELENA is wide awake and listening. Hurrying into her dressing
gown with a similar urgency to get out. She arrives in the liv-
ing room as the FIGURE is clambering through the window. Panic
as she blunders for the front door. Tears it open and vanishes
into the corridor. He crosses the room and follows her outside.
186: INT. CORRIDOR/STAIRS. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
HELENA knows the building and moves faster than he may have ex-
pected. Green dressing gown and bare feet. White nightgown and
blonde hair. The man in black hurries after her. She's already
at the swing doors and he's virtually running to stay with her.
She bursts through the doors and rushes downstairs. He follows
only seconds behind. The wind groans down as they descend. HEL-
ENA turns a corner of the stairwell and momentarily disappears.
For a moment he loses her! Which way did she go? Downstairs or
along the corridor? His anxiety is immediately assuaged. Spots
what already looks like a ghost fleeing into shadows. He takes
off along the corridor. Getting breathless. But getting closer.
Near enough now to sense her fear. Near enough now to grab her.
Say night, night, dead girl.
As he reaches for her she turns. MARGIE wears a green dressing
gown and a blonde wig and has a very big fucking pistol in her
hand. TAYLOR can't believe what he's looking at. And for an in-
stant neither does MARGIE. Their surprise is mutually stunning.
How can it be him? How can it be her? TAYLOR's still trying to
work out how they made the switch when the first bullet smacks
into his chest. Gets another as he goes down. He crumples in a
deadly heap and revenge is completed with two more in the back.
187: INT. LANDING/STAIRS. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
MARGIE barges through the doors. The MYOPIC Janitor is halfway
up adjacent stairs peering down. No time for introductions and
no time for explanations. "Call the Police. Do it. Now." Shout-
ing up at him she's already descending. "Tell em the gymnasium."
188: INT. GYMNASIUM. INSTITUTE. NIGHT.
MARGIE patrols plate glass windows. Where are the fucking cops?
She's shocked and looks strange indeed. Wig off but hair grips
all over her head. An overcoat and shoes but still wearing the
nightgown underneath. A couple of dreary lights in the ceiling.
HELENA sits numb under one of them all but hidden in a blanket.
MARGIE can't stand waiting any longer. "I'm gonna call them my-
self." HELENA nods and sure she's O.K. to stay here. The doors
settle and she is alone. Headlights cross the windows shifting
the shadows of everything. Swooping the walls they move attent-
ion back to the door. TAYLOR stares in and then pushes through.
Worse for wear but very much alive. Discarded his leather jack-
et revealing the bullet proof vest. Blood all over his T-shirt.
Looks like he caught one in the shoulder. A bad burn and blood
runs from his left hand. In his right hand he clasps the knife.
He cracks it open like a whip. HELENA hears it and stands. Ter-
ror as the footsteps approach. "Margie. Margie." But Margie is-
n't around. He's less than 30 feet away. She tries to back off
but is hindered by the blanket. Tries to scream but is stifled
with fear. Maybe six seconds to live but this refers to Taylor.
"Taylor" He swings around but this time he doesn't get time to
look surprised. BERLIN blows the fucker across the room. Solid
load slugs weighing an ounce each crash into him. BERLIN keeps
pumping the Remington and doesn't stop firing until the magaz-
ine is over. No conjecture now. This bastard is very much dead.
BERLIN throws the 12 gauge aside. And maybe it means something.
Maybe at last he accepts he's stopped living in that world and
ready to give himself a chance in this. HELENA in his arms and
this is his new world. Flashing lights and headlights flood in-
to the darkness. Their embrace goes on. And this story is told.