Onto today's thick, raging slab of action from LEGS ... where today we meet private eye Carrie Love's ex-husband/ex-partner, homicide dick Bernie Keko, who's not terribly thrilled that Carrie left him ... for another woman ...
EXT. SANTA MONICA - MAIN STREET - DAY
The Porsche cruises into a cluster of municipal buildings.
The tricky thing about female ex's
is that they get just as jealous as when you were together.
What the fuck was I thinking? Felina Bella Donna.
Sounds like a fucking Stevie Nicks album.
They pull up in front of Police Headquarters.
IN THE CAR
You slept with her?
You fucking slept with her?
She could be a suspect, Carrie!
What the fuck do you care?
And besides -- I figured --
since she's a player -- she might know --
Laura's body isn't even fucking cold yet.
I thought she was the love of --
She WAS! Okay? ALRIGHT?
She WAS! OKAY?!
She loses it, breaks down, SOBBING.
Megan comforts her.
Shhhh, it's okay, it's okay, I'm sorry, baby, shhh --
Please don't hate me. I got carried away.
It was so nice not to have to face my empty bed.
Don't remind me.
INT. POLICE SQUAD ROOM - DAY
The cheap, shitty, standard-issue institutional decay.
Carrie and Megan sit across from homicide detective
BERNIE KEKO (35), a greasy Mickey Rourke type.
Bitter. Full of swagger. Venom.
And at this moment -- sizing up his ex-wife.
Still with the short skirts I see.
She uncrosses -- then recrosses her legs. Taunting.
Can't help it. It's my basic instinct.
I'm sorry, Care. I wish there was something I could --
Please don't call me Care, Bernie, that was a long time ago.
(goes in for the kill)
What the fuck was I thinking?
It's not like you ever lost someone special.
Carrie, chill out.
Carrie lights up, blows a smoke ring. It hangs in the air.
There's no smoking.
She stands. Sits on his desk. Gets in his face.
Go ahead. Cuff me.
(beat, off his silence)
You're still a fucking jellyfish, aren't you?
All of a sudden I need some air.
It’s awfully -- stuffy in here.
(goes to the door)
I'll be out in the car. You try your luck.
She splits. Silence. Keko grimaces at Megan.
I have nothing to say to you.
Listen, I know you don't like me,
and I'm not even gonna try to reason with your homophobia,
but I suggest you start getting used to seeing these baby blues.
Oh yeah? And why might that be?
You didn't hear about my transfer to homicide?
INT. CARRIE'S PORSCHE - CONTINUOUS
Carrie punches the gas, tears out of the parking lot.
He gave it to me, Carrie. They have a lead.
(pounds the wheel)
(off Megan's silence)
So? C'mon, tell me.
(pulls out piece of paper)
They found an invitation to the Fetish Ball
at the crime scene. He gave me a photocopy.
Great. That narrows it down to about five-hundred perverts.
Pretty fancy stuff, engraved.
On the back is a hand-written guest list for a wrap party.
It's only five perverts.
Now we're talking turkey.
Who's on the list? What's the movie?
Meg quickly scans the list. Gasps silently.
You're scaring me, Meg.
She reads off the paper, hands trembling.
Klaus Speer, Felina Bella Donna,
Michael Samms, Jorel Amin, and --
special surprise guest --
She SNATCHES the paper out of Megan's hands, reads it.