Helen Of Tel Aviv

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In Chapter 18 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love and production assistant Jenny Lane drive to The Hotel California to question TV movie producer Roland Yavo about the death of his partner Harvey Flender. Meanwhile, homicide detective Bernie Keko meets his new partner Aya Meir, a ball-busting Israeli of amazonian proportions.


EXT. CARRIE’S CAR - MOVING - NIGHT
Carrie drives with the top down.

She’s cleaned up, wears
Landon’s biker chick threads.

Looks haunted.
Beaten. Drained.

She take a swig
from a pint bottle of brown.
Eyes burning.

Jenny sits on the passenger side.
Watching Carrie intently.

JENNY
I’ll keep an eye out for cops.

CARRIE
Good idea -- driving
on a suspended license --

JENNY
Really?
Maybe I should --
(beat)
Have a hit of that.

Carrie passes the bottle to her.
Smiles grimly.

Jenny takes a long pull.
Hands it back.

CARRIE
(takes a sip)
So where does Yavo
shack up when he’s in town?

JENNY
You want to see him now?
It's kinda late.

CARRIE
(hands her the bottle)
I want to ask him
a few questions.
Alone.

JENNY
(takes it, sips)
He’s at the Hotel California,
on the beach.
It’s nice. Quaint.
I stayed there once.
(hands the bottle back)
You know -- it’s right
near Chez Ray.
Across the street,
down about a block.

Carrie HITS the brakes.
The tires SCREECH.

She TURNS THE WHEEL.
The whale ROCKS, SKIDS --
And FISHTAILS into a U-turn.

JENNY
Wow.

CARRIE
Learned that move from Mannix.

JENNY
So where are we going?

CARRIE
The Hotel California.
To drill Yavo.

JENNY
And I’m -- coming along?

PUSH IN ON Carrie.
Drains the bottle.
Tosses it --

CARRIE
I don’t feel
like being alone.

INT. SANTA MONICA POLICE STATION - CAPTAIN’S OFFICE - NIGHT
A small, cramped, stuffy office.
Plaques, citations, photos
of cops line the walls.

A small fan pushes
around the stale air.

A tiny transistor radio
plays Coltrane.

Captain LARRY LIPSHITZ (50’s)
sits behind his desk,
unlit cigar in his mouth.

A bit flabby,
but still solid.

Right now his
eyes are burning.

He POUNDS the desk
with a fist. Spits --

LIPSHITZ
You went on a FUCKING CALL
with no BACK-UP.
I should fucking
SUSPEND you.

Bernie Keko sits across from
Lipshitz in a ratty chair.

BERNIE
Look, Elroy disappeared.
That’s not my fault.
He went off on another bender --

LIPSHITZ
Then you CALL
for fucking BACK-UP.
What THE FUCK
were you thinking?

BERNIE
The address was --
next door to Carrie’s place.

LIPSHITZ
What, you still
carrying a torch
for that nutty broad?

BERNIE
No, I was -- alright,
I panicked, okay?
When I heard the address,
I took the call.
I was right nearby.

Lipshitz stares at Bernie.
Scowls.

LIPSHITZ
If you weren’t the best
homicide detective we have --
(flicks on the intercom)
Send her in, McBain.
(to Bernie)
Gotta little surprise for you.

In walks AYA MEIR (30),
Israeli plainclothes detective
deluxe in sharkskin.

Six-feet of gleaming,
curvy muscle.

Long, thick black hair.
Dark eyes glint
like cold steel.

Helen of Tel Aviv.

LIPSHITZ
Bernie, I’d like you to meet
your new partner, Aya Meir.

BERNIE
(chuckles)
Any relation to Golda?

AYA
(curt)
My grandmother.
Pleased to meet you,
detective Keko.

She puts out a hand
to shake.

Bernie refuses.
Folds his arms.

BERNIE
(to Lipshitz)
I’m not working
with another broad.

LIPSHITZ
Yes, you are.
And that’s an ORDER.

Bernie gives Aya
the once-over.

BERNIE
Alright.
(beat)
Godammit.

PUSH IN ON Aya’s face.
Slightest flicker of a smile.

AYA
Gee.
Thanks for making a gal
feel welcome.