Paradise City

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 29 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love confronts her client Gay Flender about framing her for her husband's murder ... then goes to the hospital to interrogate the asshole who burned her house down ...


EXT. VENICE BEACH SHORELINE - AFTERNOON
Carrie sits on the rocks watching the waves.
The surfers doing their thing.

She drinks from a new bottle. Winces.
Pulls out her cell phone. Dials. Listens --

CARRIE
Gay?
(listens)
Yeah, it’s me.
Your pigeon. Your frame.
Tell me why you did it.
I want some answers, NOW.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - OFFICE - CONTINUOUS
Gay paces the floor.
Smoking a cigarette.
A Cheshire cat.

GAY
Answers? To what?
I hired YOU to get ME some answers --

CARRIE
Don’t play dumb with me,
you vacant, airbrushed strumpet.
I’ve been framed for your husband’s murder,
and I’ve got a funny feeling
you had something to do with it.

The door opens.
Modi slides in.
Sees Gay’s on the phone.

Gay raises a finger, ‘shushes’ him.
Presses ‘speakerphone.’
Softly places the receiver in its cradle.

GAY
You mean to tell me you think
I hired you to find my husband’s killer,
and then I FRAMED you?
That doesn’t make sense.

CARRIE
Yeah. Kinda like one of your late husband’s
fucking piece-of-shit movies.
A bad rip-off of THE POSTMAN ALWAYS RINGS TWICE.
Oh, wait -- that’s quality source material.
This reeks of Jackie Collins.
Maybe Danielle Steele.

A loud BURP.
Modi shoots Gay a look.
Gay shakes her head.

GAY
Kinda early in the morning
for cocktails, detective.
And I don’t like your attitude.
Consider yourself fired.
Go find yourself a
gutter to roll around in.

CARRIE
Not so fast, bitch.
We’re going to ‘take a meeting.’

GAY
I’m sorry, but my schedule’s pretty full.
Booked solid the rest of the month.

CARRIE
Not at your office, dummy.
You think I’m gonna
walk into a trap?
Somewhere neutral.
I’ll let you know where.
And when. And watch your back.
One way or another,
I’m gonna getcha-getcha-getcha.

She hangs up. CLICK.
Drains the bottle.
Wipes her mouth.

FLINGS it into the sea.
Slowly, carefully stands up.

CARRIE (V.O.)
But first, let’s pay a
little visit to the hospital.
Visiting hours are almost over,
and I need to go pay my disrespects.

INT. SANTA MONICA HOSPITAL - CORRIDOR - AT THAT MOMENT
A bustling hallway right out of ER.
DOCTORS, NURSES, TECHS weave in and out
like ants marching up the hill.

A DOOR opens to a room marked NURSE’S LOUNGE.
A tall, thin NURSE strides
briskly into the throng.

Starched white hat atop chunky blonde locks.
She stops. Turns. Looks.

It’s CARRIE.
Looks at the door numbers.
Searching. Aha.

A DOOR
reads ‘134.’

A female hand pushes it open,
and we go into --

INT. HOSPITAL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
Dark with the lights out.
Drapes pulled.

Quiet, except for the machines chirping.
Lights blinking.

A hulking FIGURE lies on the bed.
Tubes and wires inserted.

Large wooden FRAME is affixed to its head
with a series of bolts, like scaffolding.
Like it’s under construction.

It’s MARTUNE.
Being rebuilt.
Like beachfront property.

Carrie tip-toes up to the bed.
Turns on the light.

Martune doesn’t react.
Sleeping the dreams of morphine bliss.

CARRIE
Wakey, wakey, RISE AND SHINE.
It’s time for your SPONGE BATH.

Martune’s eyelids flicker.

CARRIE
And then maybe take a little BLOOD.

His eyes slowly open.
Try to focus.

CARRIE
Take your RECTAL TEMPERATURE.
With a FUCKING KNIFE.

Martune tries to speak,
but he’s drugged to the gills.

His voice comes out sideways,
like a ventriloquist.

MARTUNE
Cahrrie -- Lohv --

CARRIE
That’s right, buster -- it’s me.
Here to wake you from the dead.
Cause we’re gonna have a little party.
Play ourselves a little game --
‘confession junction.’

She pulls a small dictating recorder
from her pocket.

CARRIE
(into it)
Testing, testing -- one, two, three.
Is this thing on?
Golly gee, officer,
I was only going ninety.

Carrie pulls out her GLOCK.
Aims it Martune’s head.

CARRIE
Don’t worry.
This is just for insurance.
I’d rather just turn off your life support.
More dramatic. And less messy.

MARTUNE
Yoo -- funkin’ -- bih.

She places the dictaphone
on the pillow beside his head.

CARRIE
All I want is your confession,
and then I’ll leave you alone.
(beat)
Maybe.

With great effort, gaining strength,
Martune grimaces.

MARTUNE
You stole -- ma girfren.’

CARRIE
Well, that’s the problem
with a menage et trois, big guy.
It’s rarely an even three-way.
Two of them really get into each other,
and leave out the third.
Nine out of ten times,
it’s the two women, leaving Mr.
‘I Just Wanna Watch’ out in the cold.
And in your case, poor little baby
was sick of your smug shit
and jumped on the first life preserver
she could find.
(beat)
Me.

Carrie pulls out his IV tube.
Martune winces in pain.

Reaches for the call box
on the bedside table.

MARTUNE
I’m gonna -- call -- security.

Carrie GRABS the box.
Places it out of his reach.

CARRIE
Enough. Pipe down. Sit still.

She raises the gun.
Places it against Martune’s temple.

CARRIE
You’re gonna spill it. NOW.
(CLICKS on the recorder)
Talk to me, Jesus.
Tell me about the fire.

MARTUNE
Shit, no -- don’t shoot, don’t shoot.

CARRIE
All of a sudden you can talk?

MARTUNE
(looks at the missing IV tube)
Morphine -- I need -- morphine.

CARRIE
Give me your statement. NOW.
Then you can take a trip to paradise city.
Where the grass is green
and the girls are pretty.

Carrie CLICKS the hammer.

MARTUNE
Okay, okay. DON’T SHOOT.
(exhales)
I started it, okay?
I burned down your house
because you stole my girlfriend.
I LOVED that girl, and you --
took her AWAY from me.

CARRIE
Aw, isn’t that touching.

She PISTOL-WHIPS him, CRACK.

CARRIE
So you torch my DREAM HOME.
(seething)
Last question, asshole.
You killed Slobotnik, didn’t you?

Martune blink-blinks. Frightened.

CARRIE (CONT'D)
(raises the gun)
You want more of this? ANSWER ME.

MARTUNE
Okay, alright. I shot -- Kip.

CARRIE
Why?

MARTUNE
He -- made a pass at me.
Said he was -- in love with me.
I -- snapped.

Carrie smiles.
SNAPS off the recorder. Stands.

CARRIE
Well, I guess that wraps it up.

MARTUNE
Please, morphine -- I’m in pain.

Carrie looks around.
Sees a small washcloth on the bed post.

She balls it up.
SHOVES it in his mouth.

Leans over.
Re-inserts the IV tube into Martune’s arm.

His eyes cry out with immediate relief.

CARRIE
See? I’m not a totally bad person.
(beat)
I may not be a health care professional,
but I play one on TV.

One of the monitors starts BEEP-BEEP-BEEPING.
Oscilloscope patterns dance madly on the screen.

CARRIE
Shit.

She presses the call button.
Then hurries out of the room.

IN THE CORRIDOR
Carrie looks at her clipboard.
Starts moving.

Blends into the crowd.
A MALE VOICE rises above the din on the PA.

URGENT MALE VOICE (O.C.)
CODE BLUE, CODE BLUE, room 134,
cardiac arrest!
Move it, move it, STAT.

PUSH IN ON a VIDEO CAMERA on the wall.
Red light BLINKING.