Shot With His Own Gun

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. 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 20 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love visits Roland Yavo's motel room, and discovers a horrifying surprise. Meanwhile, homicide detective Bernie Keko spars with his new partner, Aya Meir ...


EXT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - CORRIDOR - NIGHT
Carrie creeps down the outdoor walkway
that runs the length of the place.

Reaches 24. Stops.
Puts her ear to the door.

Faint TV sounds trickle out.
Some old movie soundtrack.
Carrie KNOCK-KNOCK-KNOCKS on the door.

CARRIE
Roland. Roland Yavo.
It’s Carrie Love --

She listens. Silence.

Pulls a pick from her pocket.
Works it in the lock.

A soft CLICK.
The door SWINGS OPEN.
She moves in.

INT. HOTEL ROOM - CONTINUOUS
A front room of a nice suite.
Cozy. Touristy-tacky. Nautical artwork.
A plasma-screen TV flashes over a fake fireplace.

Empty.
Carrie moves to the bathroom.
In the doorway, we see
a pair of bare feet on the floor.
In a large puddle of BLOOD.

CARRIE
(softly)
This is not good.

She goes in.
Yavo lies on the tiles.
Shot in the temple.

His Colt lies next to his right hand.

CARRIE
Clumsily staged suicide.
Amateur-hour. Strictly non-pro.

Carrie grabs a hand towel.
Wipes down the doorknob.
All the surfaces she touched.
Closes the door.

OUTSIDE IN THE CORRIDOR
she looks around. No one.
Wipes that knob, too. Hurries off.

EXT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - PARKING LOT - MOMENTS LATER
Carrie slides into the Olds. GUNS the engine. HITS the gas.

JENNY
What’s wrong? You look spooked.

CARRIE
Yavo’s dead. Single gunshot,
right in the kisser.

JENNY
What?

CARRIE
Shot with his own gun.
Old Raymond Chandler device.
Nice. When it works.
JENNY
Did you -- call the police?

CARRIE
Not yet.
I’ve finally been dealt a good hand.
And I’d like to play it out.

EXT. MUNICIPAL BUILDING - PARKING LOT - AT THAT MOMENT
Aya sits behind the wheel of a nondescript unmarked sedan.
Bernie comes up to her window.

BERNIE
Slide over. I’m driving.

AYA
No. I’m driving.

BERNIE
I ALWAYS drive.

AYA
Hurry up, get in.
We have a grieving widow to interview,
and we don’t have time for your misogyny.

Bernie does a slow burn.
Walks around the car. Gets in.
Aya puts the car in gear, and TEARS off.

INT./EXT. UNMARKED CAR - MOVING - CONTINUOUS

AYA
In Israel, everyone serves in the Army.
I’ve killed a man with my bare hands.

BERNIE
Palestinian soldier?

AYA
No, my godfather.
He tried to rape me.

BERNIE
Shit. Wow.
(beat)
I’m sorry.

AYA
Don’t be. He was a slave trafficker.
He would have kicked the can sooner or later.

BERNIE
It’s 'kicked the bucket.'
Kick the can is a kid’s game.

Bernie checks her out.
This might not be so bad after all.

BERNIE
So, I guess you -- played basketball?

AYA
No. But I bet you play
a mean game of miniature golf --

INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT BUILDING - NIGHT
Jenny and Carrie walk down a dimly lit corridor.

JENNY
I’ve been trying to get the landlord
to fix the light.

They get to her door.

CARRIE
One quick drink for the road.
I gotta find a place to crash tonight.

Jenny puts her key in,
rattles the lock. Flustered.

JENNY
The lock -- sticks.

INT. JENNY’S APARTMENT - NIGHT
Cute. Cozy.
Homey, like a senior-year dorm room.
Plants. Stuffed bookcases.
An Italian LA FEMME NIKITA poster.

CARRIE
La Femme Nikita, great flick.

JENNY
I LOVE Luc Besson.

CARRIE
Have you seen Leon?
I mean, thirteen-year old
Natalie Portman? Hello.

JENNY
You mean The Professional?

CARRIE
That’s the Hollywood title.
The original title was Leon.
And in the original script, they make love.
(meaningfully)
Raising the stakes --

Pause.

JENNY
So -- what do you want?
I’ve got beer, wine, scotch --

CARRIE
Scotch. Make it a triple.
(off Jenny’s look)
My version of one drink --

The Fly In The Ointment

Happy Thursday, 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 19 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, homicide detective Bernie Keko is assigned a new female partner, Israeli minx Aya Meir, and he's NOT happy about it. Meanwhile, private eye Carrie Love arrives at the Hotel California to grill TV-movie producer Roland Yavo ...


INT. 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.
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.

EXT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - NIGHT
The double-shot heartbreak swing
of Bryan Setzer’s
SINCE I DON’T HAVE YOU over --

The parking lot.
Splashy, flashy cars abound.

Carrie maneuvers the whale into a space.
The fly in the ointment.

INT. CARRIE’S CAR - CONTINUOUS
Carrie finishes an In-N’-Out burger.
Jenny munches on fries.

CARRIE
Just wait here.
I’ll be right back.

JENNY
Okay. Be careful --

Carrie gets out.
Leans into the window.

CARRIE
Thanks for hanging out with me.
It’s weird. It feels like
I’ve known you a long time.

JENNY
Is that -- good?

CARRIE
You tell me.

INT. HOTEL CALIFORNIA - FRONT DESK - NIGHT
Carrie stands at the counter. No one.
She sees a bronze bell.

BANG-BANG-BANGS it --
BRING, BRING, BRING.

FEMALE VOICE (O.C.)
Hold on, I’m coming, I’m coming!

A FAT, GROTESQUE WOMAN
emerges from the back room. Repulsive.
Layers of fat ooze out
from under her belly top.
Her three chins.

Greasy grey hair in bangs,
clipped up on the sides
for that ‘teenage look.’

Her stained T-shirt reads
'Livin’ La Vida Loca.'

CARRIE
(pulls out a badge)
Homicide, fourth Precinct.
I’m looking for a Roland Yavo.
He’s staying here.
Or so I’m told.

GROTESQUE CLERK
Haven’t had the law around in a while.
(eyes flickering)
What he do?

CARRIE
Nothing.
I just want to talk to him.

She pulls out a ten spot.
Slides it over.

GROTESQUE CLERK
(pockets it)
He’s in 24. Second floor --

Hotel California

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Wednesday. Or, as some people like to say, 'hump day.' But then, since I don't work a 9-to-5 day job, who gives a shit.

Enough fucking around. 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 18 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love tries to pick up the pieces after her home burned down. Meanwhile, TV-movie producer Roland Yavo, upset that his son 'Nikki' appeared in a tranny porn, officially disowns her ...


EXT. MUNICIPAL BUILDING - PARKING LOT - NIGHT
Landon and Jenny sit in Carrie’s Olds.
Landon, behind the wheel.

Jenny, in the back seat.
Shivering in short sleeves.

Japan’s brittle, decayed cover of
The Velvet Underground’s
ALL TOMORROW’S PARTIES
softly plays on the car stereo.

Carrie comes up to the passenger side.
Dazed. Lost.

CARRIE
(softly)
Landon.

LANDON
Carrie. Are you okay?

CARRIE
I’ll live.
(sees Jenny)
You came, too?

JENNY
(blushes)
I -- don’t have a ride.
(shy)
And I wanted to see if you were okay.

CARRIE
Thanks, guys --

She walks around the car.
Gets in beside Landon. Stares.

LANDON
Let’s go get you cleaned up.

CARRIE
(fighting tears)
That would be -- nice.

LANDON
(looks at her watch)
We’ve got just enough time
before I have to leave for the airport.

CARRIE
You’re -- leaving, too?

LANDON
Didn’t I tell you?
I got a part in the new Scorcese flick.
(big smile)
‘Sleazy B-movie actress No. 2.’

PUSH IN ON Carrie. Weak smile.

CARRIE
Glad to see you weren’t -- typecast.

EXT. OCEAN AVENUE - AT THAT MOMENT
The purple, swinging acid jazz of
Groove Nation’s GET THIS
percolates and bubbles over --

A riot of red, orange and yellow
smears the sky above crashing waves.
Wind WHIPS through the fifty-foot palms.

A sleek, black Lexus coupe
ROARS down the coastal boulevard.

INT. YAVO’S LEXUS - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Yavo DOWNSHIFTS at a yellow light
at the Malibu Canyon pass.

Stops at the red.
Shouts into his hands-free cell.

YAVO
I got a call from your DIRECTOR.

SPLIT SCREEN WITH:

INT./EXT. NIKKI’S JAGUAR - MOVING - CONTINUOUS
Nikki’s stuck in traffic on the 405.
Puffs fiercely on an ultra-long, thin cigarette.
Cell phone clamped to her ear.

NIKKI
My d-director?

YAVO
Yeah -- the sleazebag that shot
the tranny porno you STARRED in.

NIKKI
Listen, I can explain --
it’s a student film, it’s --

YAVO
Shut the FUCK up and LISTEN. T
he creep set up a MEETING
with me using YOU as bait,
and now he’s trying to BLACKMAIL me!

NIKKI
But, but --

YAVO
No BUTS -- except maybe YOURS.
This freakshow of yours has
crossed over into my BUSINESS.

THE LIGHT
changes to green.
Yavo STEPS ON IT.

YAVO
I’ve HAD IT with you.
You’re outta my house, outta my will,
and I’m NOT paying for college.
You’re ON YOUR OWN, Nancy-boy.

NIKKI
No, please -- let me EXPLAIN.

YAVO
I told you to SHUT THE FUCK UP.
You are DEAD to me.

He GROWLS. GRABS the cell off his ear.
FLINGS IT into the dashboard -- CRACK.

EXT. CARRIE’S CAR - MOVING - A LITTLE WHILE LATER
The ghostly blue twang of Chris Isaak’s TALK TO ME.

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 --

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 --

Sins Of The Father

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Labor Day. Family driving you crazy? Stuck in traffic? Or just need a little hardboiled-pulp-noir fix before the big barbecue ... ?

Then 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 16, born again wannabe producer Ken Rice has lunch with tiny TV-movie titan Roland Yavo at a tony oceanside joint in Santa Monica, where he pitches a 'most unusual' project involving a father and son ...


EXT. THE LOBSTER - NIGHT
An outre joint right
at the Santa Monica Pier.

Riot of color as the sun
sets over lapping waves.

Titles read
‘MEANWHILE, RIGHT DOWN THE STREET.’

INT. THE LOBSTER - CONTINUOUS
The place is packed.
Yavo and Rice sit a table for four
in front of a huge window.

The view is breathtaking.
The meeting, not.

YAVO
I only agreed to meet with you
because you said the project
involved my son.

KEN
And I thank you for seeing me
on such short notice.
I know your friend Mickey Sennet.
He said this story would be
right up your alley.

YAVO
Mickey Sennet is a used-car salesman.
He just brings us the property,
half the time he’s STOLEN it.
We never let that cocksucker
do any real ‘producing.’
(suspicious)
So why didn’t Mickey
bring it to me?

KEN
Well, right now he’s on location
in Nova Scotia.

YAVO
Working on WHAT?

KEN
A Vanna White biopic
for the Family Channel.

YAVO
Who’s playing Vanna?

KEN
That girl from American Idol.
She was first runner-up
in season eight.
(SNAPS his fingers)
What’s her name?
Great set of pipes --

YAVO
I don’t watch that shit.
(sips his cocktail)
Tell me about your project.
And how my son is involved.

Ken reaches down,
takes a envelope from his briefcase.

Pulls out a treatment.
Hands it to Yavo with a flourish.
KEN
‘Sins of the Father’
is a working title.
It’s the true story
of a teacher who has
a homosexual affair
with one of his students,
who turns out to be
his long-lost son.
It’s edgy, but touching.
A sure ratings-grabber.

YAVO
(leafing through the text)
This is one of the WORST ideas
I’ve ever been PITCHED.
(THROWS it at Ken)
GAY doesn’t play at the NETWORKS.
Not unless they DIE.

A couple at the next table look.

KEN
But --

YAVO
And INCEST?
Between a FATHER AND SON?
What, are you fucking CRAZY?

More people look.
Hushed whispers.

KEN
I’m already in talks
with Bruce Boxlietner
to play the father.

YAVO
Bruce BOXLIETNER?
That washed-up HAS-BEEN?
(over his shoulder)
CHECK, PLEASE.

Ken reaches down.
Pulls out a sheaf of
eight-by-ten glossies.
FLIPS them onto the table.

KEN
(low, urgent)
I just shot a tranny porn
with your son Nikki,
in DRAG, Roland.
So if you want me
to keep it a secret,
you agree to make
Sins of the Father.

Yavo THROWS his drink
in Ken’s face. Stands.

YAVO
You fucking BLACKMAILING
piece of SHIT.
I could GIVE a FUCK
if you release a PORNO
with my FAGGOT SON.

A SMOOTH, EURO MAITRE’ D approaches.

SMOOTH, EURO MAITRE’ D
I’m sorry, sir --
but I’m afraid I’m going to
have to ask you to leave.
You’re creating quite a scene --

YAVO
A SCENE?
You want to see a SCENE?

He GRABS the edge
of the table with his fists.

LIFTS it, and TOPPLES IT onto Rice.
China, glasses, silverware
go FLYING onto Ken,
who HITS the floor,
screaming like a girl.

YAVO
And YOU can pay the CHECK.

California Dreaming

Hey there, crime kids. Happy Friday. Here's a little something to get the holiday weak-end started -- another 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 15 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love takes film production worker bee Jenny Lane out for dinner and grills her about the freaks at her job ...


INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - CORRIDOR - DUSK
Carrie walks past a closed office door.
A hand-made sign reads LEGAL IS CLOSED.

Jenny appears. Has her coat on. Holds her bag.

JENNY
I’m sorry, but Betty left.
She gets here at 7:30.
Leaves at six sharp,
has to race home to her
unemployed, drunken husband.

CARRIE
(nods at the closed door)
What about Legal?

JENNY
That’s my boss, Modi.
He won’t talk to you.
He doesn’t talk to visitors.

CARRIE
I see. I like a challenge.
I’ll ambush him another time.

JENNY
So where do you want to go?

PUSH IN ON Carrie.
The cat about to get the canary.

CARRIE
How do you feel about shellfish?

EXT. CHEZ RAY’S - NIGHT
The crisp, surf-guitar jangle of
The Venturers’ cover of
CALIFORNIA DREAMING over --

A crusty, old dive.
Across the street from the beach.
Near the Santa Monica pier.
Small martini glass in pink neon.

INT. CHEZ RAY’S - NIGHT
Almost pitch-black, except for
the zillions of tiny Christmas lights.

And the juke box.
Movie posters signed by patrons.

The joint is packed.
Hipsters who know better.

Beaten-down regulars who don’t.
Excited voices fight the music.

And in a dark, corner booth --
Carrie and Jenny.

Each with a giant,
shell-shaped bowl of oysters.

Carrie dunks a piece of bread
in steaming hot shrimp broth.
Pops it in her mouth.

Grabs her beer.
Takes a long pull.

JENNY
I love this place.
I’ve passed it a million times
and never knew what it was.
I wasn’t even sure if it was open.

Carrie pours salt on her wrist.
Licks it.

DOWNS a shot of tequila.
Bites a lemon wedge. Smiles.

CARRIE
Chez Ray’s is Santa Monica’s
best-kept secret.
If someone in the press
writes about it
in one of trendy rags,
they’re eighty-sixed.

Just then RAY (80’s)
the owner, ambles over.

Toothpick thin.
Natty in a pink Hawaiian shirt.

Ancient skin ruined by the sun.
But bright, blue eyes still
twinkling with mischief.

RAY
(to Carrie)
Who’s the new dame, doll?
id the Brit take a powder?

CARRIE
(flushes)
Ray. This is Jenny Lane.
I’m on a job.

JENNY
Hi.

RAY
(to Jenny, winks)
Better watch out for this one.
She can reel ‘em in.
Don’t even need bait.

He shuffles away.
An awkward silence.

CARRIE
So tell me about Yavo/Flender Films.
I want all the dirt.
I don’t care how tawdry.

JENNY
Well, they’re all freaks.
We’re underpaid, understaffed,
and very successful.
Flender was a cheap,
ying bastard,
and he got what was
coming to him --
(sips her cocktail)
Yavo is nasty, crude,
and suffers from a
Napoleon complex --

CARRIE
Did Yavo and Flender get along?

JENNY
They only got along because
of how much money they made.
Yavo used to be one of the
biggest producers in town --
he’s made over a hundred TV movies --
but he made other investments over the years,
which make much more money,
so nowadays he lets -- let --
Flender call the shots.
All he has to is sit back
and watch the dough roll in.
Bastard’s only in
the office two days a week.
Rest of the time he’s at
his compound down in Laguna.
I can’t think of a motive
for Yavo doing it. No upside.
Flender was doing all the work.

CARRIE
Can you tell me about his enemies?

JENNY
That could take all night.

CARRIE
Whattaya say we kick it
back at my place?
I have a full bar.

PUSH IN ON Jenny.
Her Cheshire cat smile.

JENNY
I thought you’d never ask --

Fast, Cheap And Out Of Control

Happy Thursday, 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 14 of WILSHIRE BOULEVARD, private eye Carrie Love shows up at Yavo/Flender Films to interview the employees of dead producer Harvey Flender, and works her strange magic on receptionist Jenny Lane, who is immediately smitten ...


INT. YAVO/FLENDER FILMS - FRONT OFFICE - DUSK
The harried-looking woman we saw earlier
furiously CLACK-CLACKS on her keyboard.

Meet JENNY LANE (32),
stressed-out business affairs worker bee.
Manning the hive.

CAMERA gets closer.
We see she’s actually quite fetching.

The kind that grows on you.
Imagine if she could get some rest.


The phone RINGS. She PUNCHES a button.

JENNY
(into her headset)
Yavo/Flender Films --
(listens)
And you are -- ?
(listens)
One moment, please.

Jenny STABS another button.

CARRIE
walks into the room.
Rakish in that slightly tipsy way.

Jenny looks. Does a double-take.

JENNY
(into the phone)
Lief Weinrib on three.
(to Carrie)
Hi.

CARRIE
Carrie Love, PI.
Mrs. Flender hired me.
(beat)
Nice to see you again.

She hands Jenny her business card.

JENNY
Oh. Wow.

CARRIE
I’d like to snoop around a bit,
ask a few questions.

JENNY
(reads the card)
'Fast, cheap and out of control?'

CARRIE
Marketing gimmick.
Criminals love it.

JENNY
I’m sorry, but
Roland’s not here right now.

CARRIE
I know.
I just bumped into him
in a bar down the street
waving a gun.
Had to disarm him --

JENNY
Roland? Down the street?
With a, a g-gun?

CARRIE (V.O.)
We met once before when I
crashed their Christmas party.
We had a couple dozen shots,
hit it off, and did some
heavy petting by the copier.
The rest of the night
is kind of a blur. But nice.

Jenny worried look melts.
She smiles shyly.

CARRIE (V.O.)
I could tell she’d
never been with another woman.
And that she wanted to. C
all it a sixth sense.
Intuition. 'Gaydar,' if you will --
(beat)
She looked like she’d been
beaten down by the job. Life.
But there was still a spark.
(beat)
Flickering right at me.

Carrie leans on the desk.
Puts her hand on her hip.

Raising her jacket.
Revealing her Glock
in a shoulder holster.

JENNY
(eyes wide, sees the gun)
Who do you want to -- talk to first?

CARRIE (V.O.)
Showing the rod does it every time.

AN INSTANT MESSAGE
on her computer monitor starts FLASHING --
WHO IS THAT?!

JENNY’S
fingers FLY across the keyboard.

THE MESSAGE BOX
reads I’M ON A CONFERENCE CALL!

A nearby door SLAMS SHUT with a BANG.

JENNY
I could go first.

Carrie’s eyes work
their strange magic.
Jenny fidgets.

CARRIE
I think you and I should
go talk somewhere else.
Away from here.
I have a feeling you’re
the only one that’ll
give me the straight scoop.

JENNY
Okay --

PUSH IN ON Jenny.
Faking nonchalance. Badly.

CARRIE (V.O.)
Complete bullshit, of course.

INT. CONFERENCE ROOM - MOMENTS LATER
Odd-Looking Sad-Face sits at the
end of the conference table across from Carrie.
Gripping Variety for dear life.

Meet FLEMING BOOR (49),
Harvey Flender’s assistant.
Paunchy. Bug eyes blinking.

Sparse hair trying for a Ceasar.
Approaching the final chapter
of a life of quiet desperation.

CARRIE
Tragic death. I’m sorry.
(writes some notes)
How long did you work for him?

FLEMING
Twelve years.
We’ve made 79 movies together.
Nine minis. And two series.
(mutters, to himself)
And still no producer credit --

CARRIE
Impressive. His wife told me
that he had a lot of enemies.
Do you know anyone who might
have wanted to do him harm?

FLEMING
Look in the Hollywood Creative Directory.
Start with the letter ‘A.’

CARRIE
(smiles)
His wife told me that
Harvey was rather -- frugal.

FLEMING
You can say THAT again.

CARRIE
So you know about his --

FLEMING
Of COURSE. He was a THIEF, a CROOK.
(raises a finger)
And now I am poised to take his place.

PUSH IN ON Fleming.
Quivering with quiet rage.