Dead Like Me

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 12 of FRANKENSTEIN IN LOVE, the media interviews students at Shayla's high school about her sudden disappearance. Meanwhile, the cops find the location where she was killed in a hit-and-run accident ... and then dragged to another vehicle and hauled away ...


EXT. SUBURBAN HIGH SCHOOL - FRONT LAWN - DAY
A horde of NEWS VANS are parked outside.
A few REPORTERS with CAMERA CREWS
are interviewing students.

A FAKE-SAD SHELLACKED HOTTIE REPORTER
thrusts a microphone into a fat girl’s
tear-streaked face.

FAKE-SAD SHELLACKED HOTTIE REPORTER
Did you know Shayla well?

FAT GIRL
No. But we all looked up to her.
She was so -- perfect.

FAKE-SAD SHELLACKED HOTTIE REPORTER
(nods, looks into the camera)
We still don’t know what happened
to little Shayla Petrie.
Perhaps it was an unhealthy
desire for perfection
that drew her to the dark side --

FRANKIE AND JOSH
Watch the hubbub from the front steps.

JOSH
Geez. They’re like vultures circling a fresh kill.

FRANKIE
That may be. But I’VE got the body, not them.

JOSH
The body? Don’t say that. It sounds -- creepy.

FRANKIE
Don’t be ridiculous. Shayla’s gotta great body.
(beat)
And I can’t wait to sample the merchandise.

JOSH
You mean you’re gonna --

PUSH IN ON Frankie’s face.
Libido racing with teenage hormones.

FRANKIE
Hey. There’s a first time for everything.

EXT. OLD COUNTRY ROAD - DAY
We recognize the spot where
Willis kicked Shayla out of the car.

And the curve in the road where she
was plowed over by the hit and run driver.

But instead of being isolated,
it’s now a CRIME SCENE.

A gaggle of CRIME TECHS
search the area for clues.

In the background is the same media circus,
now behind barricades,
kept back by a handful of
UNIFORMED OFFICERS.

Chet talks to the CHIEF OF POLICE,
a pasty-fasted big fella squeezed
like a sausage into a cheap suit.

Meet CAPPY WIND (50’s), Venison’s
low-rent version of the high command.

CHET
He’s kind of a fuck-up, chief.
But I don’t think he had anything
to do with her disappearance.
He was genuinely surprised
to find out she didn’t come home.

CHIEF WIND
But you said he acted kinda guilty.

CHET
Yeah, but not because of any foul play.
He wouldn’t admit that they’d been drinking,
but he told me she threw up
all over the inside of his vehicle.
(beat)
You know teenagers.

CHIEF WIND
Too well. But we got an anonymous tip
from someone who said he liked to hit her.
As of now, he’s our chief suspect.

An INTENSE-LOOKING TECH
looks up from his work

INTENSE-LOOKING TECH
We got bits of skull and brains here, chief.

CHIEF WIND
So she was definitely killed.

He nods.
Points at a spot on the side of the road.

INTENSE-LOOKING TECH
And we’ve got tire tracks
that show a vehicle
screeched to a stop here --
(points)
And there’s traces of blood here --
(points)
And these marks suggest that
a large object was dragged --
(points)
Over here.
And see here where they stopped?
The body was moved.

CHET
What do you think happened?

INTENSE-LOOKING TECH
If you ask me, she was hit by a car,
then dragged off into
another car and taken away.

CHET
Jesus CHRIST. Who the hell would do THAT?

CHIEF WIND
That’s what we’re gonna find out, son.
NOBODY steals the dead body
the head cheerleader in MY TOWN.
(mutters to himself)
That nubile, young flesh --

CHET
Of course not, sir.
(thinks)
Actually, uh -- I think they did. Sir.

CHIEF WIND
Shut up, Beverage. You know what I meant.
We’re gonna find the culprit, GOT IT?

CHET
Got it. Sir.

CHIEF WIND
And I’m putting YOU in charge of the case.

CHET
ME? Sir -- ?

CHIEF WIND
I want you to comb EVERY INCH
of this bucolic,
lower-middle-class paradise
and FIND this monster.

CHET
Yes, SIR.

CHIEF WIND
I want Mr. and Mrs. Venison to know
that we will HUNT DOWN
and BRING TO JUSTICE
anyone who DARES to kill and
abduct OUR objects of desire --