A Hell Of A Woman

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In Chapter 30 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, homicide dicks Bernie Keko and Aya Meir search the Venice beach hotels, looking for private eye Carrie Love, now wanted for murder. Meanwhile, Carrie gets lost in her favorite dive bar on the boardwalk ...


INT./EXT. UNMARKED CAR - MOVING - DAY
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.

BERNIE
-- 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.

BERNIE
C’mon, that’s funny.

AYA
You fucking sneak.
I was driving.

BERNIE
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.

BERNIE
Keko here --
(beat)
Holy shit.

AYA
What?

BERNIE
(to Aya)
Martune’s dead --
(listens)
We’ll be right there, chief --
(hangs up, to Aya)
Step on it, baby.
We’ve got another body.

AYA
(does a ‘take’)
You called me -- baby.

PUSH IN ON Bernie’s face.
In pain. Confused.

BERNIE
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 --

BERNIE (O.C.)
-- homicide detective Keko,
and this is detective Meir.
We’d like to see the register.

Carrie freezes in her tracks --

CARRIE
Shit.

Turns, and walks
toward the garage exit.
Goes through a door.

AT THE FRONT DESK
Bernie and Aya
look through the book.

BERNIE
Than Dong Ng,
Werner and Hilda Schmidt,
Lucia Greco --
fucking United Nations.

The officious PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK (22)
nods stiffly.

PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK
Well, Venice Beach IS
a major vacation destination.

AYA
Do you have a photocopier?

PIMPLY YOUNG CLERK
Sorry.
There’s a Kinko’s
about a mile away, on Lincoln.

BERNIE
Fuck that --
(to Aya)
You stay here, write down
all the names going back
the last twenty-four hours.
I’m gonna go scope out
the parking garage.

AYA
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.

BERNIE
That’s -- a good idea.
(to the clerk)
What the fuck
are you looking at?

EXT. 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.
Weaves slightly.

Carrie walks toward the bar.
Stops. Peers inside.

CARRIE (V.O.)
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 --
(beat)
Go to happy hour.