Monday, November 14, 2016
Hey there, crime kids. Happy Monday. It's time once again to take a trip to the dark side, where your most violent fantasies become sins of the flesh, right here, where the hardboiled action is non-stop, at the coolest crime joint in cyberspace ... at That Killing Feeling.
In Chapter 4 of THE HEISTERS,
INT. VENICE MOTOR COURT HOTEL - CORRIDOR - NIGHT
Kelsey walks up to a door.
Knocks softly three times.
Then stops. Then once again.
The door opens. She goes in.
INT. HOTEL ROOM - NIGHT
Your standard, bland touristy-tacky room
brought to you by the color beige.
Big painting of a ship at sea.
Standing in the room is RONAN KENNY (40’s),
a big, burly block of Irish Spring.
Jet-black hair frames a face
that only a boxer could love.
Crude prison tattoos
dot faded grey skin.
He CRUSHES a can of beer.
Tosses it the trash can.
Stares at her meaningfully.
I’d say it was great to see ya,
but since you’re gonna give me
bad news, I dunno.
Tell me about it.
Kelsey sees a YOUNG BLONDE CHICK (20)
sitting on the bed.
Who’s the frill?
This is Becky.
(gives a little wave)
Meet BECKY FINE, party girl deluxe.
Your standard former cheerleader now on a
one-way bender to hitting the skids.
Puffy, red-rimmed eyes belie
a soft expanse of creamy skin.
Well, aren’t you going o introduce us?
Ronan pulls out his wallet.
Goes over. Hands her some cash.
Why don’t you go to the supermarket
and get us some more beer.
And get some chips. Beef jerky.
That kinda shit.
But the supermarket’s fifteen minutes away --
He stares at her. She stares back.
Then crumples. Gets up. Grabs her bag.
Goes out the door. Slams it. BANG.
Don’t tell me.
You met her on a job.
Nah. Believe it or not,
we’ve been dating a few weeks.
Got some fucked-up daddy fixation.
(motions to the table)
Enough chit-chat. What happened?
They both sit. Kelsey pulls out her smokes.
Lights one up. Studies him carefully.
He stares at her stone-faced.
I went out for ten minutes to get supplies,
come back, boy-toy is DEAD,
and the money’s GONE.
Was it someone on the crew,
or an outside job?
Smells like a civilian.
The kid was fucking STABBED
with a samurai sword in the neck.
He was fucking HARPOONED to the bed.
Why would a burglar do that?
They just want to get in and out.
Must have been someone that knew him,
had a grudge. Like an ex-lover.
Maybe it was a crime of passion.
And then they called the cops
so I would take the fall.
So they must have been watching us --
Makes sense. But just to make sure,
we should check out the rest
of the crew, don’tcha think?
Someone could be trying to make it
LOOK like a crime of passion.
Nah. This smells like
amateur hour all the way.
If one of our crew did it,
they wouldn’t have killed the kid.
No percentage in it -- it would
have turned the heat up to ‘high.’
We need to gather everybody up
and work on this as a team.
DeLuca and Aber are shacked up together.
I’ll get them first.
You track down Garza and Jones.
They stare at each other.
Something passes between them.
Hey. I just realized.
You counted it.
How much did we get?
A little over a million.
NICE. So we each get --
Trying to do the math in his head.
About a hundred and seventy-K each.
Shit. I could sure use
a hundred and seventy-K.
You and me both, doll.
But first we have to get it back --