Tuesday, September 27, 2011
A Hell Of A Woman
Happy Tuesday, crime slicksters. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where the girls are hot, the drinks are cold, and the hardboiled-pulp-noir action is non-stop, right here, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 32 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, homicide detectives Bernie Keko and Aya Meir search for private eye Carrie Love, now a murder suspect, in Venice Beach. Meanwhile, Carrie slips into her favorite dive bar to hide ...
INT./EXT. UNMARKED CAR - MOVING
The car cruises Speedway.
A narrow street just behind the Venice Boardwalk.
It passes BUMS, young HIPSTERS. SURFERS.
Bernie’s behind the wheel.
Aya sips a designer coffee.
-- and the bartender
looks at the guy and says,
‘Hey. I was talking to the duck.’
Bernie ROARS with laughter.
Aya does a slow burn.
C’mon, that’s funny.
You fucking sneak.
I was driving.
Payback for stopping at Star-FUCKS.
How can you drink that shit?
It looks like a milk shake, not a COFFEE.
Bernie’s cell phone RINGS.
He pulls it out. Listens.
Keko here --
Martune’s dead --
We’ll be right there, chief --
(hangs up, to Aya)
Step on it, baby.
We’ve got another body.
(does a ‘take’)
You called me -- baby.
PUSH IN ON Bernie’s face.
In pain. Confused.
Don’t get used to it.
INT. VENICE MOTOR COURT HOTEL - ELEVATOR - AT THAT MOMENT
Carrie rides down.
Pulls out her Glock.
Checks the chamber.
EXT. VENICE MOTOR COURT HOTEL - AT THAT MOMENT
Bernie and Aya’s car pulls into
the front entrance. Parks.
IN THE LOBBY
the elevator doors open.
Carrie walks out. Then hears --
-- homicide detective Keko,
and this is detective Meir.
We’d like to see the register.
Carrie freezes in her tracks --
Turns, and walks toward the garage exit.
Goes through a door.
AT THE FRONT DESK
Bernie and Aya look through the book.
Than Dong Ng, Werner and Hilda Schmidt,
Lucia Greco -- fucking United Nations.
The officious PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK (22)
PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK
Well, Venice Beach IS
a major vacation destination.
Do you have a photocopier?
PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK
Sorry. There’s a Kinko’s
about a mile away, on Lincoln.
Fuck that --
You stay here, write down all the names
going back the last twenty-four hours.
I’m gonna go scope out the parking garage.
Gee, thanks, officer.
You go prowl why I stay here
and do the secretarial work?
I think NOT.
(shoves the book at him)
YOU write down the names
while I go check out the garage --
(off his stare)
If she happens to be down there,
she WON’T recognize ME, GET it?
The clerk watches. Amused.
That’s -- a good idea.
(to the clerk)
What the fuck are you looking at?
EXT. VENICE BOARDWALK - THE HORSE HEAD - AT THAT MOMENT
Classic dive bar. A couple of OLD DRUNKS smoke butts in front.
Shivering in the brisk air of the beach at dusk.
An OLD HOMELESS HIPPIE (60)
in a top hat shuffles by.
Holding up his pants at the crotch.
Carrie walks toward the bar.
Stops. Peers inside.
Some shamus I turned out to be.
On the lam, holed up like grifter
out of a Jim Thompson fever dream.
'A Hell of a Woman,' my ass.
I wasn’t on the case,
the case was on me.
I wasn’t following leads,
they were following me.
Suspects? I was the fucking suspect.
And now I was on a tear, a bender,
a non-stop trip to hell.
Cause when the going gets tough, the tough --
Go to happy hour.