Trouble Is My Business

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 17 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love and wannabe screenwriter Jenny Lane walk toward Carrie's house after dinner and drinks to continue the party ... only to walk right into a clusterfuck of epic proportions ...


EXT. VENICE BEACH - OZONE AVENUE - NIGHT
Carrie and Jenny walk down the leafy avenue.
Foliage glowing from a dim street lamp.
Weaving a little from cocktail time.

CARRIE
So why do you work there?

JENNY
I’m a writer.
It gives me access to producers.
Agents. You know --

CARRIE
So you write TV movies?

JENNY
God, no.
I write really dark crime thrillers.
With a lot of blood.

CARRIE
Hey. My kind of girl.

Jenny blushes. Turns away.

CARRIE
Maybe you can tell me.
When I saw Yavo at The Office,
he was with this really
creepy-looking skinny guy.
Cajun, I think.

JENNY
That’s Hub Flower.
He owns the biggest production company
in New Orleans. We’ve made a few movies with him.
(wicked grin)
And now the FBI is investigating him --

CARRIE
That must have been
what they were arguing about --

A SIREN SCREAMS into the night.
Jenny JUMPS.

CARRIE
(looks)
That’s coming from right down the street.

They walk toward the noise.
See clouds of BLACK SMOKE.
People start SHOUTING.

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Carrie, FIRE! Get out, GET OUT!

CARRIE
What? I’m right --
(realizes)
My HOUSE!

She starts TEARING down the street.
Jenny follows.

EXT. CARRIE’S JOINT - FRONT PATIO - MOMENTS LATER
The house is ENGULFED IN FLAMES.
A crowd of NEIGHBORS stands nearby.
Watching. A LITTLE GIRL starts crying.

CARRIE
Oh my FUCKING GOD!
Somebody DO SOMETHING!
Where is the fucking FIRE DEPARTMENT?

Another SIREN WAILS a few doors down.
ONK-HONKS. SHOUTING.

Oh, shit. The walkway street.
The fire truck is too big.

Carrie sees the truck.
Starts YELLING.

CARRIE
Come on, over here!
Hurry UP, GODDAMN IT!
It’s MY HOUSE, MY HOUSE, MY HOUSE!

A pair of FIREFIGHTERS
race toward her with a long hose.

TALL FIREFIGHTER
Everybody out of the way! Stand back!

BLACK FIREFIGHTER
Move it people, make room!

But the house is a goner.
Rich, red FLAMES engulf the roof, the walls.
Searing, shimmering waves of heat.

Carrie GRABS Jenny.
Almost collapses.
Crying, SHRIEKING.

CARRIE
NOOOOOOOOOOOOO -- !

JENNY
(grabs her back)
It’s okay, it’s okay, it’s gonna be okay.

A MALE VOICE behind them snickers.

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
Anybody got any marshmallows?

Carrie WHIPS her head around. Sees --

PAUL MARTUNE
(28) natty in Billabong.
Not. A bit flabby.

Cruel goatee wrapped around a stogie.
Grey eyes crinkle.

MARTUNE
Hey, Carrie.
Guess you got to hell a little early, huh?

CARRIE
You fucking ASSHOLE.

She GRABS Martune.
THROWS him to the ground.
PUNCHING, KICKING, SPITTING.

He tries to fight back,
but years of flabby TV-watching
on the couch do him in.

BLACK FIREFIGHTER
Stop it, you’re going to KILL HIM.

CARRIE
That’s the fucking IDEA!

PUSH IN ON Carrie.
As she beats his face to a pulp.

INT. MUNICIPAL BUILDING - CELL BLOCK - NIGHT
A row of cells. Lit by diffused light.
The standard institutional decay.

Angry voices. Mad voices.
Drunk voices echo hollowly
against the brick and linoleum.

INT. JAIL CELL - CONTINUOUS
Carrie sits on the lower bed.
Filthy, torn clothes.

Blood on her hands.
Head between her knees.
Beyond in shock.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I was spinning out of control.
The raging fire burned in my eyes,
over and over.
Closing them only made it worse.
I saw Martune’s ugly face.
Taunting me. Then I saw red, and --
(beat)
Here I am.

She slowly, in agony, gets up.
Goes to the sink.

Turns on the faucet.
SPLASHES cold water in her face.
Looks in the mirror.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Been awhile since I was
booked and fingerprinted.
Nothing like a full body cavity search
to brighten your day.
(beat)
I hope I didn’t kill him.
That’s the last thing I need.
I still owe my lawyer five K f
or the last DUI he fixed --

MALE VOICE (O.C.)
How you doin’?

BERNIE
stands at the bars. Spooked.

CARRIE
Look who the cat --
(starts to lose it)
Bernie, I, I -- blacked out --

BERNIE
(quiet)
I’m sorry you lost your house, Carrie.

CARRIE
Martune, is he --

BERNIE
He’s alive, yes.
He’s at UCLA Medical Center.
Ran a check on him.
Turns out he has a couple of priors.
Mail fraud. Embezzlement.
Got off each time.
His father is some big-shot
attorney downtown.

CARRIE
No -- arson?

BERNIE
You don’t think he’d be
stupid enough to -

CARRIE
I don’t know what to think anymore.

BERNIE
(over his shoulder)
GUARD.

CARRIE
You’re -- letting me go?

An angry-looking BLACK GUARD
comes to the cell door.

Sticks his key in.
Unlocks it with a CLANG. Opens it.

BERNIE
Your friends posted bail.
Don’t get me wrong,
I’d love to keep you in here.
Keep you outta trouble.

Carrie shuffles out.
Stops. Weak grin.

CARRIE
Hey. Trouble is my business --