Happy Friday, crime slicksters. Welcome back, my friends, to the hardboiled pulp that never ends. Get your asses in gear for the thrill ride of your life ... at That Killing Feeling.
Onto today's joint from BLOOD GETS IN YOUR EYES, where we kick up the intrigue a notch ...
First up, the night clerk at Alona's sleazy motel recognizes prep school teacher/wife-killer Gill Sherry on the news, and calls the cops ...
Meanwhile, homicide detective Bernie Keko and patrolwoman Danette Day decide to get involved in a little 'private investigation' of their own ...
INT. THE STARLIGHT HOTEL - FRONT DESK - NIGHT
The Grateful Dead wheezes its gnarled tales
of drugged-out hippie glory on a shitty boombox.
A tiny, shitty black and white TV
is on the counter with the sound turned down.
Bunky sits behind the counter
reading one of those free weekly rags.
Slowly mouthing the words.
Fucking Republican asshole shit-for-brains --
Something on the screen catches his eye.
Hey, that guy checked in tonight.
He reaches over, turns up the volume.
ON THE SCREEN
We see a still of GILL.
Some ‘official school photo.’
He looks happy, relaxed.
Glazed smile oozing preppy charm.
-- wanted for questioning in connection
with the shooting death of his wife.
If you see this man, contact your local precinct immediately.
He turns the sound back down. Scratches his chin.
Picks up the phone. Dials a number.
Hello? This is Bunky Mertz over at the Starlight Hotel?
That guy you’re looking for that killed his wife?
He’s staying here.
INT. VENICE BEACH POLICE SUBSTATION - AT THAT MOMENT
Danette and Bernie sit at a table near the coffee maker.
Sipping java from styrofoam cups.
Kenny sits across the room,
talking on the phone excitedly.
This is really good coffee. Did you --
I’m still not fucking you, Bernie.
Guys, that was the night manager of the Hotel Starlight.
The guy who shot his wife checked in a little while ago.
You mean Gill Sherry?
Yeah, guy said he saw his picture on the news.
Allegedly killed his wife.
In this country, a suspect is innocent until proven guilty.
Yeah, right -- so why the fuck did he check into a fleabag hotel?
Danette stares at him. Simmering. He glares at her.
Uh, guys -- don’t you think we should go over there?
You go on ahead, question the night manager.
We’ll be right there.
He salutes, and DASHES out the door.
Danette sips her coffee.
Gives Bernie the fish-eye.
After my shift, we’ll go back to my place.
Holy shit. Really?
C’mon, let’s go.
Before I change my mind.
They get up.
Start for the door.
Admit it, the chemistry is still there.
(stops, looks at him)
Calm down, Casanova.
I haven’t gotten laid in three months.
So what am I, a ‘friend with benefits?’
More like, ‘cop with nightstick.’
So -- you’re just gonna use me.
That’s about the size of it.
Works for me.