"THE MAN WHO WASN'T THERE"
BY
Ethan Coen & Joel Coen
Black.
ED (V.O.)
Yeah, I worked in a barbershop. But
I never considered myself a barber...
We track back from a barber's pole.
ED (V.O.)
...I stumbled into it--well, married
into it more precisely...
We track back from a shopkeeper's bell triggered by an opening
door. The pull back and tilt down show the top of the head
of a customer entering in slow motion.
ED (V.O.)
...I wasn't my establishment. Like
the fella says, I only work here...
We track along a shelf backed by a mirror and holding pomade,
aftershave, hair tonic, a whisk brush.
ED (V.O.)
...The dump was 200 feet square,
with five chairs, or stations as we
call 'em, even though there were
only two of us working...
We track in on a big man in a barber's smock scissoring across
a lock of hair that he pulls taut between two fingers of one
hand. In slow motion, he laughs and chats.
ED (V.O.)
...Frank Raffo, my brother-in-law,
was the principal barber. And man,
could he talk...
Another man in a barber's smock is running electric clippers
across a child's head. A cigarette between his lips.
ED (V.O.)
...Now maybe if you're eleven or
twelve years old, Frank's got an
interesting point of view, but
sometimes it got on my nerves. Not
that I'd complain, mind you. Like I
said, he was the principal barber.
Frank's father August--they called
him Guzzi--had worked the heads up
in Santa Rosa for thirty-five years
until his ticker stopped in the middle
of a Junior Flat Top. He left the
shop to Frankie free and clear. And
that seemed to satisfy all of Frank's
ambitions: cutting the hair and
chewing the fat. Me, I don't talk
much...
He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and taps its ash into
a tray.
ED (V.O.)
...I just cut the hair...
LATE IN THE DAY
The barbershop is empty of customers. Late sun slants in
through the front window. The two barbers--the narrator and
his brother-in-law--sit in two of the barber chairs, idly
reading magazines.
FRANK
Says here that the Russians exploded
n A-bomb and there's not a damn thing
we can do about it.
ED
Uh-huh.
FRANK
How d'ya like them apples?
Beat.
FRANK
...Ed?
ED
Huh?
FRANK
Russians exploded an A-bomb.
ED
Yeah.
FRANK
(shaking his head)
Jesus...
ED (V.O.)
Now, being a barber is a lot like
being a barman or a soda-jerk; there's
not much to it once you've learned
the basic moves. For the kids there's
the Butch, or the Heinie...
We cut to examples of the haircuts as they are ticked off:
ED (V.O.)
...the Flat Top, the Ivy, the Crew,
the Vanguard, the Junior Contour
and, occasionally, the Executive
Contour. Adults get variations on
the same, along with the Duck Butt,
the Timberline...
Ed trims the fringe around a balding head.
ED (V.O.)
...and something we call the Alpine
Rope Toss.
He snips one long lonely strand of hair and carefully drapes
it across a bald pate.
ED (V.O.)
...I lived in a little bungalow on
Napa Street. The place was OK, I
guess; it had an electric ice box,
gas hearth, and a garbage grinder
build into the sink. You might say I
had it made.
We float slowly toward a white bungalow on a quiet street as
a black coupe pulls into the driveway.
ED (V.O.)
...Oh yeah. There was one other
thing...
We track in through a bedroom door to discover a woman putting
on a girdle.
ED (V.O.)
...Doris kept the books at
Nirdlinger's, a small department
store on Main Street. Unlike me,
Doris liked the work, accounting;
she liked knowing where everything
stood. And she got a ten per cent
employee discount on whatever she
wanted--nylon stockings...
Close on her legs as she rolls up a stocking and clips it to
the garter.
ED (V.O.)
...make-up, and perfume...
Close on an atomiser misting her bosom with Jungle Gardenia
by Tuvache.
ED (V.O.)
...She wore a lot of perfume.
Doris in a flouncy dress is setting coasters on a coffee
table.
ED (V.O.)
...Doris's boss, Big Dave Brewster,
was married to Ann Nirdlinger, the
department store heiress. Tonight
they were coming over for dinner--as
Doris said, we were 'entertaining'...
Ed sits on the living-room davenport in an uncomfortable
suit, smoking.
ED (V.O.)
...Me, I don't like entertaining.
The doorbell rings.
THE DOOR
Ed opens it to reveal a large man in a suit and his demure,
bird-like wife.
DAVE
How ya doin', Ed?
ED
OK. Take your coat, Ann?
DINNER TABLE
The two couples are in the middle of the meal.
DAVE
Japs had us pinned down in Buna for
something like six weeks. Well, I
gotta tell ya, I thought *we* had it
tough, but, Jesus, we had supply.
*They* were eating grubs, nuts,
thistles. When we finally up and
bust off the beach we found Arnie
Bragg, kid missing on recon; the
Japs had *eaten* the sonofabitch, if
you'll pardon the, uh... And this
was a scrawny, pimply kid too, nothin'
to write home about. I mean, I never
would've, ya know, so what do I say,
honey? When I don't like dinner,
what do I say?
Ann smiles wanly.
DAVE
...I say, Jesus, honey, Arnie Bragg--
*again*?!
He roars with laughter.
Ed gives an acknowledging smile.
DAVE
...Arnie Bragg--*again*?!
He dries his eyes with the corner of a napkin.
DAVE
...Were you in the service, Ed?
ED
No, Dave, I wasn't.
DORIS
Ed was 4F on account of his fallen
arches.
DAVE
Mm, that's tough.
FRONT PORCH
Ed is standing alone on the porch, watching the sun go down.
Crickets chirp. From inside the house we hear laughter and
clattering dishes.
ED (V.O.)
...Yeah... I guess Doris liked all
that he-man stuff. Sometimes I had
the feeling that she and Big Dave
were a lot closer than they let on...
He turns and looks through the screen door into the house.
Across the dim living room we can see a sliver of the brightly
lit kitchen. Big Dave, wearing a frilly apron, stands at the
counter drying dishes. His broad back heaves with laughter
while Doris, just hidden by the wall, chats away, handing
dishes across.
ED (V.O.)
...The signs were all there plain
enough--not that I was gonna prance
about it, mind you. It's a free
country.
Footsteps approach the front porch.
With the squeak of the screen door, Big Dave emerges.
DAVE
Holding down the porch area?
Ed gives a half-grin of wry acknowledgement. Big Dave relaxes,
forearms against the porch railing, gazing out at the front
lawn.
DAVE
...That's quite a wife you got there.
ED
Mm.
DAVE
She's a rare one.
ED
How's business, Dave?
DAVE
Couldn't be better. These're boom
times in retailing. We're opening
another store, Big Dave's Annex,
there on Garson. This is strictly
haberdashery--casual wear, pyjamas,
ladies' foundations and undergarments.
Matter of fact, I'm thinking of making
Doris the comptroller. How're things
at the, uh, the barbershop?
ED
All right, I guess.
DAVE
...Fine. Fine. Well, you might want
to drop by the Annex when we open,
update your suit--'course, you're in
the smock all day.
He chuckles.
DAVE
...Say, where do you get those things
anyway?
ED
Specialty store down in Sacramento.
DAVE
Uh-huh.
There is a silence. At length, gazing out at the lawn, Big
Dave clears his throat.
CHURCH
ED (V.O.)
Doris and I went to church once a
week...
We are tilting down a long stained-glass window depicting
the resurrection of Christ.
ED (V.O.)
...Usually Tuesday night...
Faintly, we hear an amplified voice:
CALLER
I... seven...
Ed sits at a long table, staring at the window, a lit
cigarette in his mouth.
CALLER
...Bee... Four...
ED (V.O.)
Doris wasn't big on divine worship...
Doris is concentrating on the six cards spread in front of
her.
ED (V.O.)
...and I doubt if she believed in
life everlasting; she'd most likely
tell you that our reward is on this
earth and bingo is probably the extent
of it...
Still focused on her cards, Doris mutters to Ed:
DORIS
Watch your card, honey.
CALLER
I... sixteen...
Ed continues to gaze off at the window, smoke pluming from
his cigarette.
ED (V.O.)
I wasn't crazy about the game, but,
I don't know, it made her happy, and
I found the setting peaceful.
CALLER
Gee... nine...
Doris sucks in her breath.
DORIS
Jesus, bingo--BINGO!
BARBERSHOP
Sun slants in through the big window at the end of the day.
Ed sweeps hair trimmings, looking intently down at the floor,
a cigarette dangling from his lip. Frank sits on one of the
vinyl waiting chairs, talking at Ed's back.
FRANK
...so you tie your own flies, Ed. I
mean, if you're really serious. You
tie your own flies, you do a--I know
it's matickless, I know, people say,
hey, you can buy flies at the store--
but you can buy your fish at the
store, Ed, you see what I'm saying?
ED
Uh-huh.
FRANK
The point is there's a certain art
to the process. The point is not
merely to provide, and let me point
out, these fish are not as dumb as
you might think.
ED
Uh-huh.
FRANK
Sportsmanship! That's my point. June
fly, Ed? Mosquito? Which of these?
Well, what fish do you seek?
ED
Yeah.
FRANK
Sure, go to the store. Go there,
describe to the man where you will
be fishing, and for what, and the
weather conditions, sun, no sun,
whatnot, and so forth, and then you
might as well have the man go ahead
and sell you the goddamn FISH, Ed...
We see a black-suited figure approaching through the windows
at the far end of the shop. He is almost blown out by the
late-day sunlight hitting the window.
FRANK
...My point is, this is a man who
knows nothing no matter how much you
tell him, so sell him the goddamn
FISH, Ed.
The bell over the front door tinkles, and the swarthy middle-
aged man walks in. He is well dressed--perhaps a little too
snazzily for this small town--and has a sporty pencil
mustache.
MAN
OK, boys, which of you gets the
privilege?
FRANK
We're just closing, friend.
MAN
Oh, happy days! I wish I was doing
well enough to turn away business!
More power to ya, brother! The public
be damned!
FRANK
Hey, what's your problem, friend?
This is a business establishment
with posted hours--
Ed cuts in with a jerk of the head.
ED
I'll take care of him, go ahead,
Frank. Have a seat, mister.
Frank looks sourly at the stranger.
FRANK
...You sure, Eddie?
ED
Yeah, yeah--go home.
As Frank leaves:
FRANK
In your ear, mister.
The stranger chuckles.
STRANGER
Oh, those fiery Mediterraneans. Say!
Not so fast there, brother--
Ed has switched on the clippers, but the stranger waves him
back; he lifts off a toupee.
STRANGER
...Pretty good, huh? Fools even the
experts. 100 percent human hair,
handcrafted by Jacques of San
Francisco, and I'd hate to have to
tell you what I paid for it.
ED
Uh-huh.
STRANGER
Yes, it's a nice rug. I'm paying for
it down on the installment plan...
Ed starts to trim the stranger's fringe.
STRANGER
...A lot of folks live with the pate
exposed. They say the dames think
it's sexy. But for my money it's
just not good grooming--and grooming,
my friend, is probably the most
important thing in business--after
personality, of course...
He twists around to offer his hand.
STRANGER
...Creighton Tolliver, pleased to
know ya.
ED
Ed Crane. What brings you to Santa
Rosa?
CREIGHTON
A goose, friend. I was chasing a
wild goose. Ed, have you ever heard
of venture capital?
ED
Uh--
CREIGHTON
Well, it's the wildest goose there
is. Risk money. Very speculative.
Except, Ed, in certain situations,
it's not, see? I thought I had a
prospect here. Well, I make the haul
up and this lousy so-and-so tells me
his situation has changed--all his
capital's gonna be tied up in
expansion plans of his own. Thank
you, mother! Pop goes another bubble!
It's only the biggest business
opportunity since Henry Ford and I
can't seem to interest a soul!
ED
That right.
CREIGHTON
It's called dry cleaning. You heard
me right, brother, 'dry cleaning'--
wash without water, no suds, no
tumble, no stress on the clothes.
It's all done with chemicals, friend,
and your garments end up crisp and
fresh. And here's the capper: no
shrinkage.
ED
Huh.
CREIGHTON
That's right! Dry cleaning--remember
the name. It's going to revolutionize
the laundry industry, and those that
get in early are gonna bear the fruit
away. All I need is $10,000 to open
my first store, then I use its cash
flow to finance another, and so on--
leap frog, bootstrap myself a whole
chain. Well, me and a partner.
Cleanliness, friend. There's money
in it. There's a future. There's
room to grow... Say, that's looking
pretty good. Let's see it with the
hairpiece on...
BATHROOM DOORWAY
It is evening. Ed leans against the bathroom doorjamb
contemplatively off, hands thrust into his pockets, a
cigarette between his lips pluming smoke.
ED (V.O.)
Dry cleaning...
The reverse show Doris soaking in the tub, reading a magazine.
ED (V.O.)
...Was I crazy to be thinking about
it? Was he a huckster, or opportunity,
the real McCoy?
Ed takes the cigarette from his mouth, exhales.
ED (V.O.)
...My first instinct was, no, no,
the whole idea was nuts. But maybe
that was the instinct that kept me
locked up in the barbershop, nose
against the exit, afraid to try
turning the knob. What if I could
get the money?
DORIS
Honey?
ED
Mm.
She lifts one leg and rests the heel on the rim of the tub.
DORIS
Shave my legs, will ya?
Ed saunters over, perches on the tub and puts the cigarette
back in his mouth to free his hands. He picks up a bar of
soap and starts soaping the leg.
He sets down the soap and picks up a safety razor.
The razor takes long slow strokes along the lather, dark
bits of hair flecking the white foam.
ED (V.O.)
...It was clean. No water. Chemicals.
He shakes the razor in the tub. Shavings float away across
the soap-slicked water.
DORIS
(absently, as she
reads)
Gimme a drag.
Ed pulls the cigarette from his mouth between two fingers,
uses the two fingers to flip it over, and holds it for Doris
as she sucks.
He brings the cigarette, now marked with lipstick, back to
his own mouth. She murmurs:
DORIS
...Love ya, honey.
A DOOR
We hear a voice, muffled through the door, breaking into
laughter.
A hand enters to knock.
VOICE
Yeah, come in.
The door swings open to show Creighton in his shirtsleeves
sitting on the bed, talking on the phone. A tray of room-
service dishes sits near him.
He is bald; his hairpiece sits on the pillow next to him.
CREIGHTON
(into the phone)
OK... yeah. I'll see you tomorrow.
He hangs up, looks quizzically at Ed.
CREIGHTON
...Oh, I thought you were the
porter... Can I help you?
Ed stands awkwardly by the door.
ED
...I'm, uh, Ed.
The stranger's look does not show recognition.
ED
...Ed Crane. Remember? Today?
CREIGHTON
Sorry, friend, I, uh, you got me at
a disadvantage.
ED
I'm, uh, I'm--the barber.
CREIGHTON
Jesus! The barber! I'll be a
sonofagun. Why didn't you say so?
'Course--the barber.
Ed nods, his smile faint and forced.
CREIGHTON
...I didn't recognize you without
the smock. Did I--damn--did I leave
something at the shop?
ED
No. I might be interested in that,
uh, business proposition--
Creighton, surprised, quickly picks up his hairpiece and
arranges it on his head.
CREIGHTON
You got the dough?!
ED
I can get it, yeah.
CREIGHTON
Come in, come in, siddown over there.
Coffee?
ED
No. I--tell me--
CREIGHTON
Sure.
ED
What's involved, aside from putting
up the money? What're you looking
for the partner to do?
CREIGHTON
Do? Hell, nothing. Well, you'll want
to keep tabs on your investment, of
course, but I'm looking for a silent
partner. I've done the research,
I've contacted the vendors, the deal
is set. I'm just looking for venture
capital, friend. Disappear if you
want, check in whenever you like--I
want the dough; I don't take
attendance.
ED
And how do we share--
CREIGHTON
Fifty-fifty, straight down the line.
You and me. Finance and expertise.
So--you've got the dough then, do
ya?
ED
I'll have it in a week.
CREIGHTON
Well, I'll be damned. The barber!
And I thought this trip was a bust.
Well...
He reaches for a bottle of bonded whiskey on the night stand
and hands Ed a glass.
CREIGHTON
...it just goes to show, when one
door slams shut, another one opens.
Here's to ya, uh...
ED
Ed.
They both knock back the whiskey. Creighton leans back and
gives Ed a heavy-lidded stare, a faint smile on his lips,
his hairpiece slightly askew.
Ed stares back.
After a beat, without taking his eyes of Ed, Creighton reaches
up and loosens his tie. An almost imperceptible wink.
Ed stares.
ED
...Was that a pass?
CREIGHTON
(hoarsely)
Maybe.
ED
You're out of line, mister.
Creighton throws up his hands apologetically.
CREIGHTON
No problem!
ED
Way out of line.
CREIGHTON
Right! Strictly business.
ED
Yeah.
CLOSE ON TYPEWRITTEN NOTE
It says:
I KNOW ABOUT YOU AND DORIS CRANE. COOPERATE OR ED CRANE
WILL KNOW. YOUR WIFE WILL KNOW. EVERYONE WILL KNOW. GATHER
$10,000 AND AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS.
A hand pulls the note out of a typewriter carriage.
ED (V.O.)
I sent it to Dave the next morning.
And I waited.
BARBERSHOP
We are looking down at the top of an eight-year-old's crew
cut as clippers buzz its perimeter.
Frank reads a magazine. The youngster reads a comic as Ed
works his head.
ED
Frank.
FRANK
Huh?
ED
This hair.
FRANK
Yeah.
ED
...You ever wonder about it?
FRANK
Whuddya mean?
ED
I don't know... How it keeps on
coming. It just keeps growing.
FRANK
Yeah--lucky for us, huh, pal?
ED
No, I mean it's growing, it's part
of us. And we cut it off. And throw
it away.
FRANK
Come on, Eddie, you're gonna scare
the kid.
Ed shuts off the clippers and give the apron a flap.
ED
OK, bud, you're through.
The kid hops down, still reading his comic, and ambles out
the door. Ed gives Frank a considering stare.
ED
...I'm gonna take his hair and throw
it out in the dirt.
FRANK
What the--
ED
I'm gonna mingle it with common house
dirt.
FRANK
What the hell are you talking about?
Ed turns back to the counter to hang up his clippers.
ED
I don't know. Skip it.
EXT. ED'S HOUSE
It is twilight. Ed lifts the latch on the front gate and,
cigarette in his mouth, heads up the walk.
Music filters out from the house.
INT. ED'S HOUSE
Ed walks though the living room, hands in his pockets. The
music emanates from a radio in the bedroom.
DORIS
Ed?
A track forward reveals Doris sitting at a vanity, doing her
hair. Her dress is half zipped at the back.
DORIS
...Gimme a zip.
Ed walks over behind her.
ED
Where you going?
DORIS
Me? Us! The party at Nirdlinger's--I
told you last week, for the Christmas
Push.
ED
Yeah, right.
We are close on the zipper as Ed's hand takes the tab, pauses,
the lowers it slightly. Her back blooms through the dark
fabric of the dress.
He slides the zipper up, and Doris reaches for a perfume
atomizer.
DORIS
Come on, get ready. It's important.
ED
Nah, go ahead. I'm not big on parties.
DORIS
Oh, don't be a grump.
SALES FLOOR
It is festooned with streamers.
Ed leans against a wall, one hand dug into a pocket, the
other bringing a cigarette to his lips.
Band music plays and Nirdlinger's employees whirl on the
dance floor. Bobby-soxed teenagers Lindy-hop and pass palms
over their knees.
A thin young man in a sports coat stands next to Ed, watching,
his Adam's apple bobbing.
YOUNG MAN
Wild, man!
He goes out onto the dance floor. Ed, left by himself, gazes
across the floor.
His view, broken by dancers' crosses, shows Big Dave worriedly
talking to Doris.
Doris reacts angrily.
Big Dave morosely absorbs the angry words from Doris. He
glances up toward Ed and notices his gaze with consternation.
He gives Doris a jerk of the head, and she too looks over.
VOICE
You in ladies' wear?
The young man with the Adam's apple is back, looking out at
the floor, snapping his fingers.
ED
...Huh?
YOUNG MAN
Haven't I seen you up in ladies'
wear?
ED
I don't work here. My wife does.
YOUNG MAN
Uh-huh. Some beat, huh?
ED
Yeah.
YOUNG MAN
Check out the rack on that broad in
the angora.
ED
Uh-huh.
A hand is laid on Ed's shoulder. It is Big Dave; he leans in
to murmur:
DAVE
Ed. Can I talk to you?
BIG DAVE'S OFFICE
Music from the party drifts in only faintly. The office is
built into a corner of the sales floor. It is dominated by a
large desk. A large window on the far side affords a partial
view of the floor.
DAVE
Siddown. Siddown...
Ed sits in a leather chair in front of the desk. Dave fumbles
nervously on top of the desk for a cigar. He trims the end
of the cigar with a short double-bladed knife with a steel
grip.
DAVE
...Souveniered it off a Jap in New
Guinea.
He hands one cigar to Ed, takes one for himself, then drags
up a chair to face Ed's.
DAVE
...I guess you're wondering what
Doris was so hot about.
The office is dark, the only illumination coming from the
window onto the bright sales floor behind Big Dave. Ed leans
forward for Dave to light his cigar.
DAVE
...These're Havanas. Romeo and
Juliets. Private stock.
Dave, having lit Ed's cigar, draws nervously on his own.
DAVE
...Ed, I...
ED
What is it, Dave?
Dave breaks down, weeping. He buries his face in his hands,
the burning cigar in his right hand perilously close to his
hair.
DAVE
Ed, I've been weak...
His shoulders heave.
DAVE
...I've, uh... I've, uh... thanks.
Ed has taken Dave's cigar so that he won't burn himself.
DAVE
...I've, uh... Oh, Jesus. I've been
carrying on with a married woman.
Uh, no one you know. And now the, uh--
what is it they say?--the--the--the
chickens are coming home to roost.
Ed awkwardly holds the two burning cigars.
ED
Uh-huh.
DAVE
Hell, I, I'm not proud of it. But,
uh, that's not the worst of it. I
got a note. A blackmail note. You
know, come across or everybody knows.
ED
Uh-huh.
DAVE
Well, you know what that would do to
me.
ED
I guess it would be pretty awkward.
DAVE
Awkward?! Ann'd throw me out on my
keister! Hell, it's her family's
store--*her* store. I serve at the
indulgence of the goddamn ownership,
Ed.
ED
Uh-huh.
DAVE
I only work here! And the lady's
husband would know... Oh, Jesus.
ED
How much to they want, Dave?
DAVE
$10,000! I don't know what to do,
Ed. I don't know what I *can* do.
Even though I know who the sonofabitch
is.
ED
...You know... who *who* is?
DAVE
The sonofabitch. The blackmailer.
It's, uh, it's no one you know. It's
a businessman from Sacramento. A
goddamn pansy, Ed. He tried to rope
me into some crackpot scheme; I heard
him out and then told him to go to
hell. And the very next day, the
very next day, Ed, I get blackmailed
for the same amount.
ED
Would he... it sounds pretty obvious.
DAVE
Well, I guess he don't care that
it's obvious.
ED
Mm. How, uh... how did he know that--
DAVE
He's staying at the hotel I've gone
to with, uh, with the lady in
question. Must've seen us.
Big Dave blows his nose, reaches to take his cigar from Ed.
DAVE
...Thanks...
He exhales with a long sigh.
DAVE
...Oh, Jesus.
ED
...Why don't you just pay him, Dave?
DAVE
That's my capitalization on the Annex!
*My* operation, Ed! Christ almighty.
That's what I was just talking to
Doris about, a way of getting the
money from the store that we could
hide from Ann.
ED
Mm.
DAVE
Embezzling, Ed. From my own goddamn
wife!
He give a tearful chuckle.
DAVE
...Doris, she was pretty hot about
that. God bless her. She doesn't
know I'm telling you this--she's mad
enough already. But Jesus, Ed, you're
the only one I can talk to. I'm, I'm
sorry I... I better get back to the
party.
He rises and clears his throat as he rubs the tears from his
face.
DAVE
...I look all right?
PULLING ED
He has left the office to wander through an adjacent room
lit only by spill from the party. It is the music department;
pianos and spinets are arranged across the floor.
ED (V.O.)
In a way I felt bad for Big Dave. I
knew the ten grand was going to pinch
him where it hurt...
Ed sits on a piano stool next to a standing ashtray. He takes
out a cigarette, lights it off his cigar, stubs out the cigar.
ED (V.O.)
...But Doris was two-timing me and I
guess, somewhere, that pinched a
little too.
His attention is caught by a distant knock of wood. Someone
is raising the key-guard on a piano across the room.
The person can only be seen only obscurely, from three-
quarters behind, through the sales floor's jumble of
haphazardly arranged instruments. The person begins to play.
Ed listens. The piece is slow, sweet, almost a lullaby.
The player, unaware that there is an audience, plays on, and
Ed listens, eyes narrowed against the smoke curling past his
face.
The piece ends.
ED
That was pretty.
The player turns, surprised. It is a young woman.
ED
...Did you make that up?
YOUNG WOMAN
Oh, no. That was written by Mr Ludwig
van Beethoven.
Ed nods recognition of the name.
ED
That was quite something.
YOUNG WOMAN
He wrote some beautiful piano sonatas.
ED
That was something. I'm Ed Crane.
YOUNG WOMAN
I know who you are, Mr Crane.
His look shows surprise.
YOUNG WOMAN
...My father used to take me with
him when he got his hair cut. Walter
Abundas?
Ed's head tilts back in acknowledgment.
YOUNG WOMAN
...I'm Rachel Abundas. Everyone calls
me Birdy.
ED
Sorry, I just didn't remember.
BIRDY
Oh, that's all right. You can't be
expected to remember every skinny
girl who comes in with her dad.
Ed give a wry smile.
ED
...You don't like the music out there?
BIRDY
It's OK, I guess. No, I don't really.
I'm not big on music, ordinarily.
A woman calls sharply from offscreen:
VOICE
Ed.
He looks.
Silhouetted in the doorway to the party room is Doris, coat
over her arm, purse in hand.
ED'S CAR
Doris and Ed are driving home.
Doris draws heavily on a cigarette, looking flintily out at
the road.
DORIS
...What a knucklehead.
ED
Who?
DORIS
Dave.
ED
How's that?
DORIS
Ahh...
She waves angrily.
DORIS
...Money problems. He's thinking
about canceling the Annex.
ED
So?
DORIS
*That means I don't run Nirdlinger's!*
ED
Mm.
They ride in silence for a beat. Doris shakes her head.
DORIS
...What a knucklehead.
STREET
As the car roars past and into the distance.
ANOTHER STREET
It is day. We are looking from inside a parked car toward a
hotel entrance. Big Dave emerges from the hotel, gets into a
Packard and drives off.
ED (V.O.)
Big Dave did it, though...
Ed, sitting in his car, is watching.
ED (V.O.)
...I sent a note telling him where
to drop the money...
HOTEL HALLWAY
Ed emerges from a stairwell and goes to a standing ashtray
by the elevator.
ED (V.O.)
...and he did. He came across.
Ed reaches into the trash hole in the ashtray column and
pulls out a Nirdlinger's bag.
He goes back to the stairwell.
ANOTHER FLOOR
Ed emerges from the stairwell, goes to a door and knocks.
The door swings open.
CREIGHTON
Yeah, good, how are ya, come in...
Ed follows him into the room.
CREIGHTON
...You bring a check?
ED
Cash.
CREIGHTON
Cash?!
He gives Ed a look.
CREIGHTON
...Usually we do this kind of thing
with a bank draft. But cash--that's
fine--it's all the same in the end--
dough's dough, huh?
ED
Sure.
CREIGHTON
I got the paperwork here. Partnership
papers here, they reflect our
agreement: fifty-fifty on the net, I
supply professional services, you
supply the capital. I'll give you a
receipt on the dough there, huh?
ED
Yeah.
CREIGHTON
Pretty straightforward, but I don't
know if you wanna show this stuff to
a lawyer--
ED
It's OK.
CREIGHTON
Yeah, screw 'em, huh? Pay 'em to
tangle it up and then you pay 'em to
untangle it, what's the point?
He perspires as he counts the money.
CREIGHTON
...Just a second here, I'll give you
a receipt on the, uh... Whoa,
Nellie... Oh, by the way, we didn't
talk about this, I, uh, I think I'm
gonna call the place Tolliver's,
after me, you know, I didn't think
you were much interested in, uh--
ED
That'll be fine.
CREIGHTON
Yeah, good. Lemme just, uh...
He wipes his brow, finishes counting.
CREIGHTON
...Yeah, that's it. As per our
discussion.
ED
Uh-huh.
Creighton hands Ed an executed agreement and a receipt.
CREIGHTON
Well, there it is. Writ large in
legal escriture, next step is--
ED
Look, uh... Creighton...
He gives Creighton a level stare, smoke pluming from the
cigarette planted in his mouth.
ED
...You're not gonna screw me on this?
CREIGHTON
*Screw* you--Jesus! Take it to a
lawyer! No, I insist! This is *dry*
cleaning, this is not some fly-by-
night thing here! I must say, I've
been an entrepreneur for thirteen
years and I've never--
ED
All right.
CREIGHTON
And I've never been asked--Look, you
want the dough back? You know who I
am! You--
ED
OK.
Creighton mops his brow again.
CREIGHTON
So, uh... Tolliver's is OK then?
CAR
Ed drives with the usual cigarette in his mouth. Doris sits
next to him. Rural scenery slips by in the background.
ED (V.O.)
The next day was Saturday. We were
going to a reception for Doris' cousin
Gina, who'd just married a wop vintner
out near Modesto. Doris didn't much
feel like going, and I didn't either,
but, like she said, we had a
Commitment.
Doris gazes stonily out at the road. At length:
DORIS
...I hate wops.
Ed gives her a brief glance. Doris glares at him.
DORIS
...What's so damn strange about that?
ED
I didn't say a word.
She looks back out at the road.
DORIS
...*You* didn't have to grow up with
'em.
This brings nothing from Ed. Doris shakes her head.
DORIS
...Family. Boy.
BY A BARN
Wops in Sunday clothing greet each other around tables piled
with food.
A small child runs up to his mother, yanks on her dress and
screams:
CHILD
He's ridin' Garibaldi! Uncle Frankie's
ridin' Garibaldi!
Surrounded by cheering children, with a jug of wine slung
over his shoulder, Frank is riding an enormous pig. He slaps
at the pig's ass with a large straw hat.
ED (V.O.)
That was when she started drinking.
Doris is standing by one of the tables, drinking red wine
from a water glass. Ed stands nearby.
A large woman hugs Doris.
WOMAN
How you doin', Doris, you been OK?
DORIS
How're you, Constanza?
WOMAN
Oh, you know, I got my healt'. And
how you been, uh...
ED
Ed.
WOMAN
Ed. How's a business?
ED
OK.
WOMAN
(to Doris)
He's a barber, right? It's a good
trade. So how come you got no kids?
PICNIC TABLE
A group of kids pulls Frank, laughing, by the hand toward a
picnic table set out with pies in a row.
VOICES
Uncle Frankie's gotta join! Wait for
Frankie!
FRANK
No, come on, kids--I just ate lunch!
VOICES
No, no--Uncle Frankie's gotta join!
An old man stands by with a stopwatch.
OLD MAN
Ready...
He clicks the timer.
OLD MAN
...Go!
Frank and the line of children plunge their faces into the
line of blueberry pies.
The other picnickers cheer them on.
ELSEWHERE
Ed and Doris approach the innocent-looking young couple
accepting congratulations.
Doris, holding her empty glass, is not a happy drunk:
DORIS
'Gratulations, Gina. It's so goddamn
wonderful.
ED
Congratulations, Gina.
DORIS
Life is so goddamn wonderful, you
almost won't believe it.
ED
Honey...
DORIS
It's just a goddamn bowl of cherries,
I'm sure.
Ed tries to lead her away.
ED
Honey...
Doris calls back over her shoulder:
DORIS
Congratulations on your goddamn
cherries!
As Ed and Doris recede we hear her petulant:
DORIS
...Leggo my goddamn elbow.
ELSEWHERE
In a long shot we see Frank at the crest of a hill, staggering
slowly, painfully, toward a tree. In his right hand he
clutches a trophy.
When he reaches the tree he swings his free hand up against
it, leans forward, and vomits.
CAR
Late afternoon, driving home.
Ed drives. Doris sits in the front passenger seat, snoring
lightly. Frank sits in the back seat hugging his trophy to
his chest, eyes closed, murmuring:
FRANK
I never wanna see another blueberry
pie...
Silence.
FRANK
...I never even wanna hear those
words.
Doris moans.
More silence.
FRANK
...Don't says those words, Ed.
EXT. BUNGALOW
It is twilight. Ed's coupe is parked in the driveway. He is
just rounding the back of the car to open the passenger-side
door. He pulls Doris from the car, half asleep, half drunk.
INT. BUNGALOW
The door swings open and Ed stumbles in supporting Doris,
who has one arm draped around his neck. He helps her into
the bedroom and eases her onto the bed.
He sits on the edge of the bed and looks down at her.
Shadows from branches just outside wave across her face. She
is breathing through her open mouth; her face is moist with
perspiration.
ED (V.O.)
I'd met Doris blind on a double-date
with a loudmouthed buddy of mine who
was seeing a friend of hers from
work. We went to a movie; Doris had
a flask; we killed it. She could put
it away. At the end of the night she
said she liked it I didn't talk much.
A couple weeks later she suggested--
A harsh jangle from the telephone. Doris moans but does not
wake; Ed rises and does to the living room and picks up the
phone.
ED
Yeah.
VOICE
Ed, it's Big Dave. I gotta talk to
you.
ED
What--now?
DAVE
Please, Ed.
ED
But it's...
DAVE
Please, Ed.
Ed sighs.
ED
Your place?
DAVE
I'm at Nirdlinger's. Let yourself
in.
ED
OK.
He hangs up.
He nudges Doris.
ED
...Honey.
She murmurs.
ED
...Honey.
She rolls away and burrows into a pillow.
Ed opens her purse and pokes through it.
NIRDLINGER'S
We are looking over Ed's shoulder as he hesitantly swings
open a door.
It reveals Big Dave's office, quiet and rather dark.
A down-facing banker's lamp on the desk illuminates Big Dave's
hands on the desktop.
ED
...Dave?
DAVE
Come on in.
Ed enters, sits.
An awkward silence.
ED
...What's the problem, Big Dave?
Another silence.
DAVE
...I'm ruined.
His hands writhe on the desktop.
DAVE
...It ruined me. This money. No annex.
I'm all shot to hell.
ED
So you paid the guy?
Big Dave stares without speaking.
After a long beat:
DAVE
...What kind of man *are* you?
ED
...Huh?
DAVE
What kind of man *are* you?
ED
Big Dave--
DAVE
I'd understand if you'd walked in
here. Socked me in the nose. Whatever.
I deserved it.
ED
I, uh...
DAVE
I'm not proud of what I did. But
*you*.
No one talks.
Big Dave sighs.
DAVE
...Yeah, I paid up. As you well know.
And then I went and found the pansy.
He looks at Ed.
DAVE
...Got nothin' to say, huh? Yeah,
well, you already know the story. I
didn't, I hadda beat it out of the
pansy. *Your* money.
No response.
DAVE
...What kind of man *are* you?
Big Dave rises.
DAVE
...Well.
He crosses around the desk and adds, sadly:
DAVE
...I'm all shot to hell.
Ed starts to rise, but Big Dave is already looming over him.
Big Dave bear-hugs him and then spins him into a wall.
Ed hits the wall and bounces off, back into Big Dave. Big
Dave wallops him in the stomach. Ed doubles over.
DAVE
...What kind of man *are* you?
Big Dave hurls him against the desk, then slams his face
against the desktop. Ed's hands scrabble at the top of the
desk as Big Dave grabs him by the neck and lifts. He slams
him face-first into the window between the office and the
dark sales floor.
Ed twists around, the back of his head now pressed against
the glass. Big Dave's hands lock around his throat.
Big Dave sweats and strains.
A crack shoots up the pane of glass.
Ed's hand sweeps up and plunges something into Big Dave's
neck.
Big Dave grunts and turns away, gurgling. His hands go up to
his throat.
Ed watches. He is holding Big Dave's cigar trimmer.
Big Dave takes a couple of deliberate steps backward, his
head twisted away.
He falls back, tripped up by a chair, which spins him face-
down onto the floor.
Big Dave crawls away face-down across the floor, on his knees
but with his hands still at his throat. His face and knees
awkwardly support his weight as if he were pushing something
across the floor with his nose.
He reaches a corner but still pushes forward, wedging himself
in, legs still scraping away as if to push himself through
the wall. Blood is pooling out from under him.
Big Dave's legs are still working. His gurgling continues.
Ed watches.
Big Dave's legs start to move furiously. They convulse. His
whole body shakes as he goes into shock.
Ed watches.
Big Dave stops shaking. He remains wedged awkwardly into the
corner, face-down. He is still.
The room is very quiet.
Ed looks down at his hands.
He walks across the room, pushes the door open and walks
across the darkened sales floor.
EXT. STORE
Ed walks to his car. He does not look about, is not
particularly furtive. He gets into the car. He starts the
ignition.
EXT. HOUSE
He pulls up, sits motionless for a beat. Gradually, something
draws his attention; he cocks his head and looks up through
the windshield.
A branch creaks and sways in the breeze.
INT. HOUSE
Ed gets into bed next to Doris. He stares at the ceiling.
Wind rustles outside.
The shadow of a branch on the ceiling nods in time with the
wind.
He looks at Doris.
Her face is still lightly sheened with sweat but her mouth
is closed now, her breathing more peaceful. The leafy shadows
play over her face.
ED (V.O.)
...It was only a couple of weeks
after we met that Doris suggested
getting married. I said, Don't you
wanna get to know me more? She said,
Why, does it get better? She looked
at me like I was a dope, which I've
never really minded from her. And
she had a point, I guess. We knew
each other as well then as now...
He is gazing at her.
ED (V.O.)
...Anyway, well enough.
Sound and image face.
BARBERSHOP
The next day.
Ed cuts hair, a cigarette between his lips.
FRANK
Holy-moly, do I got a headache.
Frank is giving a haircut as well.
FRANK
...How you today, Ed?
ED
OK.
FRANK
You don't got a headache?
ED
...Nah.
FRANK
Damn, I got a headache to beat the
band.
LATER
Ed sits in his chair, hands folded in his lap, head tilted
back, eyes closed.
We hold on Ed as we hear a clipper buzzing and Frank talking
to someone in his chair.
FRANK
Ya can't pump it. Did ya pump it?
That'll just flood it.
CUSTOMER
Ya gotta pump it. Ya can't just hold
it down. *That'll* flood it.
FRANK
You crazy? You pumped it?
CUSTOMER
Well, ya can't hold it down.
There is the jingle of the door bell. Ed opens his eyes.
Two men in fedoras are entering.
Ed starts to rise.
MAN 1
Ed Crane?
ED
Right.
MAN 1
Come on outside.
ED
Sure.
OUTSIDE
The two men are staring at the sidewalk, smoking, hesitant
to speak. One of them finally comes up with an icebreaker:
MAN 2
...So you're a barber, huh?
ED
That's right.
MAN 1
I'm Officer Persky. This is Krebs.
Ed nods toward their car:
ED
...We goin'?
KREBS
Huh? No.
Beat.
PERSKY
...Cigarette?
Ed holds up one hand with its smoking cigarette.
PERSKY
Right. Uh... Pete's got some news
for you.
His partner gives Persky a dirty look.
KREBS
...Look, pal, it's a tough break,
but, uh... well damnit, your wife's
been pinched.
PERSKY
They sent us to tell ya.
ED
Huh?
KREBS
They sent us to tell ya. We pulled
the detail.
ED
My *wife*?
PERSKY
Yeah, uh, they brung her to the county
jail, uh...
KREBS
Homicide.
PERSKY
Well, embezzlement. And homicide. A
guy named David Brewster. He's, uh...
He's the decedent.
ED
I don't understand.
KREBS
He's the dead guy.
Ed stares at him.
PERSKY
...Yeah, it's a tough break.
KREBS
Visiting ends at five. Too late today.
You can see her tomorrow.
PERSKY
Sorry, pal. They sent us to tell ya.
He shakes his head.
PERSKY
...Crap detail.
RESIDENTIAL STREET
It is evening. Ed is pulling up to a house on a tree-lined
street similar to his own. He gets out of his car and goes
up the walk, and a man sitting on the porch swing holds up a
hand of greeting.
MAN
'Lo, Ed.
ED
Hello, Walter.
He steps up on the porch.
The man is holding a tumbler of whiskey and ice that clinks
as the swing moves. His skin glistens with drinker's sweat,
and he has the slightly expansive manner of someone who's
put at least a couple away.
WALTER
Have a seat.
Ed glances around but the swing is the only seat. He sits
next to Walter.
ED
Thanks. Thanks for seeing me, at
home.
WALTER
Oh, hell. Drink?
ED
No thanks.
WALTER
Sure you don't need one?
ED
I'm fine.
WALTER
OK. Boy. Jesus!
ED
Yeah. What do I, uh...
WALTER
Well, of course, I, uh, it's out of
my league, criminal stuff. I do, uh,
probate, real estate, title search,
uh... I'd be absolutely worthless,
something like this. Absolutely
worthless.
He belches.
WALTER
'Scuse me, just finished dinner. Um.
Frankly, Doris'd be better off with
the county defender.
ED
He a good man?
WALTER
Bert's OK, sure, he's a good man. I
won't kid you though, Ed, nobody
around here has any experience with
this kind of, er... And I hear they're
bringing a prosecutor up from
Sacramento. Capital offense. Taking
it seriously... Hmm...
ED
So--
WALTER
Taking it seriously.
ED
So, who should I--
The front door opens and someone speaks through the screen:
VOICE
You want any coffee, Dad?
Ed looks around at the voice.
VOICE
Oh, hello, Mr Crane.
She steps out: it is Birdy Abundas.
Ed rises, and they awkwardly shake hands.
ED
Hello, Rachel.
BIRDY
I'm so sorry... I was sorry to hear.
ED
Yeah. Thanks.
WALTER
Coffee, Ed?
ED
I'm fine. Thanks.
WALTER
No thanks, honey.
BIRDY
OK. Nice to see you, Mr Crane.
They watch her go back in.
WALTER
Damnit! She's a good kid.
Ed nods.
A beat.
ED
...So, uh, who should I--
WALTER
Well, there's Lloyd Garroway in San
Francisco. Probity--you know, no one
ever said anything iffy about Lloyd
Garroway. Conservative. Jury might
like that. Might like that here.
He takes a sip of his drink.
WALTER
...Probity.
ED
Uh-huh. Is he the best then, for,
uh...
WALTER
Well, the best, the money-is-no-object
best, for a criminal case, any lawyer
would tell you Freddy Riedenschneider.
Out of Sacramento. 'Course, I don't
know how you're fixed for money.
ED
Uh-huh. He's the, uh...
WALTER
Yeah, the best.
He sniffs.
WALTER
...Yeah, Riedenschneider. Wish I
could tell you more. Hell, I wish I
could handle it myself. But I'd be
absolutely worthless for this kind
of thing.
He takes a musing sip.
WALTER
...Criminal matter? Freddy
Riedenschneider.
He thinks.
WALTER
...No question about it.
ED AT A TABLE
It is a long table with chairs stretching down both sides,
one side for prisoners, the other for visitors. The room is
empty except for a guard and an elderly woman who sits across
from a younger woman at the far end of the table. The younger
woman, in a prison smock, is wailing. The elderly woman is
holding her hand.
Ed sits across from an empty chair, clutching a flower-printed
toiletries kit. There are echoing voices suggesting large
spaces outside the room.
He sits and waits.
Approaching footsteps.
The door opens. A large prison matron steps aside to let
Doris enter.
Doris looks lost in a prison-issue jumper that is too big
for her. Her hair is uncurled and bedraggled. Not only is
she not made-up, she has a couple of bruises and a cut on
her lip.
As Ed stands, she gives a hollow look around.
ED
Honey... I brought your make-up.
She looks at him.
DORIS
Honey.
ED
How are you?
She shrugs.
DORIS
I don't know what's going on. I--
ED
What happened to you?
She shakes her head.
DORIS
...I don't know what happened to Big
Dave. I know some of it.
Irregularities in my books, they
said. Can I explain it.
ED
You don't have to--
DORIS
I helped him cook the books, Ed. I
did do that.
ED
You don't have to tell them anything.
We're getting you a lawyer.
Doris doesn't seem to be listening. She sighs:
DORIS
I know all about that. But I don't
know how much to tell them.
ED
Don't tell 'em anything. We're getting
you Freddy Riedenschneider.
Doris finally looks at him.
DORIS
Should I... should I tell you why?
ED
You don't have to tell me anything.
Her gaze drifts away again. She notices the sobbing woman.
DORIS
Jesus Christ.
Doris looks around and laughs.
DORIS
...My books used to be perfect. Anyone
could open them up, make sense of
the whole goddamn store.
ED
Honey...
DORIS
I knew we'd pay for it.
BARBERSHOP
Ed sits in a waiting-customer chair, wearing his smock. Frank
paces in front of him. He smacks a fist into his palm.
FRANK
This is what family is for, Ed! This
is when ya come together!
ED
Yeah.
FRANK
Close ranks! Goddamnit! Those sons
of bitches!
ED
Frank, uh, you know I'll try to
contribute, but, uh--Freddy
Riedenschneider--
FRANK
I don't care what it costs! This is
when ya come together!
ED
That's very generous.
FRANK
The hell with it, Eddie!
BANK
Ed and Frank sit waiting on a bench in the high-vaulted lobby.
Frank looks uncomfortable in an ill-fitting suit. As they
wait, he looks nervously about.
In a hushed voice:
FRANK
They're just people like you and me,
Ed. Remember that.
ED
Uh-huh.
FRANK
Just people. They gotta put up the
big front so that people will trust
them with their money. This is why
the big lobby, Ed. But they put their
pants on one leg at a time. Just
like you and me.
ED
Uh-huh.
FRANK
They too use the toilet, Ed. In spite
of appearances. And their money will
be secured by the barbershop. A rock.
A *rock*, the barbershop. I mean,
how long has *this* place been here?
A door opens. A conservatively dressed man of late middle
age emerges.
MAN
Mr Raffo?
Frank hops to his feet.
FRANK
Yes, sir.
MAN
Could you come with me please?
FRANK
Sure. Can Ed come too?
The man looks dubiously at Ed.
MAN
Mr...?
ED
Crane. Ed Crane.
MAN
You also have an interest in the
securing property?
FRANK
He's a barber.
MAN
Ah.
FRANK
Second chair.
MAN
Not an owner.
FRANK
No, he's family, he's my brother-in-
law.
MAN
Ah-hah. It would be best if he waited
here.
He goes to the glass-paned doorway to his office, Frank
trailing dejectedly behind. They enter, the door closes, and
we hear their muffled voices from inside, the sense of the
words lost.
Ed sits and watches the two men perform their pantomime of
business: Frank nervously reads documents with one hand cupped
to his forehead for concentration; the banker passes
successive documents across his desk with a word of
explanation for each as Frank signs.
Ed takes out a cigarette and lights it, watching impassively.
ED (V.O.)
The barbershop. Doris and Frank's
father had worked thirty years to
own it free and clear. Now it got
signed over to the bank, and the
bank signed some money over to Frank,
and Frank signed the money over...
TRACKING POINT OF VIEW
It is midday. We are tracking along the sidewalk toward a
long cream-colored Packard parked at the curb. A couple of
kids have stopped to peer into the car's windows; the car is
no doubt the fanciest in town.
ED (V.O.)
...to Freddy Riedenschneider, who
got into town two days later...
Ed, coming up the sidewalk, looks up at the storefront: a
restaurant with a large window with a plush red drape that
obscures the interior. Gilt lettering on the window spells
out "DaVinci's".
ED (V.O.)
...and told me to meet him at
DaVinci's for lunch.
TRACKING POINT OF VIEW
Inside the restaurant. We are tracking toward a table whose
lone occupant sits with his back to us holding open a menu
as he orders from a facing waitress:
MAN
...not fried, poached. Three of 'em
for two minutes. A strip steak medium
rare, flapjacks, potatoes, tomato
juice, and plenty of hot coffee.
He flips the menu over.
MAN
...Do you have prairie oysters?
WAITRESS
No, sir.
MAN
Then bring me a fruit cocktail while
I wait.
He looks up at Ed.
MAN
...You're Ed Crane?
ED
Yeah--
MAN
Barber, right? I'm Freddy
Riedenschneider. Hungry? They tell
me the chow's OK here. I made some
inquiries.
ED
No thanks, I--
The waitress sets a fruit cocktail in front of
Riedenschneider.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
Look, I don't wanna waste your time
so I'll eat while we talk. Ya mind?
*You* don't mind. So while I'm in
town I'll be staying at the Hotel
Metropole, the Turandot Suite. Yeah,
it's goofy, the suites're named after
operas; room's OK though, I poked
around. I'm having 'em hold it for
me on account of I'll be back and
forth. In addition to my retainer,
you're paying hotel, living expenses,
secretarial, private eye if we need
to make inquiries, headshrinker should
we go that way. We'll talk about
appeals if, as and when. For right
now, has she confessed?
ED
No. Of course not. She didn't do it.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
Good! That helps. Not that she didn't
do it, that she didn't confess. Of
course, there's ways to deal with a
confession, but that's good!--one
less thing to think about. Now.
Interview. I'm seeing her tomorrow.
You should be there. Three o'clock.
One more thing: you keep your mouth
shut. I get the lay of the land, I
tell *you* what to say. No talking
out of school. What's out of school?
Everything's out of school. I do the
talking; you keep your trap shut.
I'm an attorney, you're a barber;
you don't know anything. Understood?
ED
...OK.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
Good! Any questions give me a ring--
Turandot suite; if I'm out leave a
message. You sure you don't want
anything? No?
He points a finger at Ed.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...You're OK, pal. You're OK, she's
OK. Everything's gonna be hunky-dory.
The waitress puts down a plate of steak and eggs.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...And the flapjacks, honey.
DRIVING POINT OF VIEW
We are looking at pedestrians on the sidewalk through the
windshield of a moving car.
ED (V.O.)
All going about their business. It
seemed like I knew a secret--a bigger
one even then what had really happened
to Big Dave, something none of them
knew...
On Ed, driving.
ED (V.O.)
...Like I had made it to the outside,
somehow, and they were all still
struggling, way down below.
ED IN BED
Arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
On the ceiling is the moving shadow of a tree limb.
A distant, muffled knock.
Ed turns his head.
FRONT DOOR
Ed opens it as he finishes cinching a bathrobe.
The woman waiting on the front porch is dressed in black: a
black dress and a black veiled hat that is too big for her
bird-like frame.
Wind rustles in the trees behind her.
She stares at Ed.
ED
Ann.
For the first time, we hear her speak, in a low, tremulous
voice:
ANN
Hello, Ed.
ED
Ann. Will you come in?
She shakes her head.
ANN
...No, No, it's very late.
Ed nods.
After an uncomfortable beat, through which she continues to
stare:
ED
...I'm so sorry about your loss.
ANN
Yes. Thank you.
ED
Of course, you know, Doris had nothing
to do with it. Nothing at all.
She lays a black-gloved hand on his arm.
ANN
Oh, I know. Don't worry, Ed. I came
to tell you...
ED
Yes, Ann?
ANN
And you should tell Doris...
She falls silent. The trees behind her rustle.
She gives a wary look back. Then, confidingly, to Ed:
ANN
...You know how Big Dave loved
camping. And the out-of-doors.
Ed is puzzled:
ED
Yes?
ANN
We went camping last summer. In
Eugene, Oregon. *Outside* of Eugene,
Ed.
She gives him a searching look, hoping, it seems, that he
will find this significant.
ED
...Yes?
ANN
At night, there were lights--we both
saw them. We never told anyone,
outside of our official report.
ED
Ann--
ANN
A spacecraft. I saw the creatures.
They led Big Dave onto the craft. He
never told anyone what they did,
outside of his report. Of course he
told *me*. No one else.
ED
Ann--
ANN
The government knows. I cannot repeat
it to you. But this thing goes deep,
Ed. This was not your wife. I goes
deep, and involves the government.
There is a great deal of fear. You
know how certain circles would find
it--the knowledge--a threat. They
try to limit it, and--
ED
Ann, will you come in, sit down,
maybe have a drink?
ANN
Sometimes knowledge is a curse, Ed.
After this happened, things changed.
Big Dave... he never touched me again.
Ed says nothing.
She touches his arm.
ANN
...Tell Doris not to worry. I know
it wasn't her. Perhaps this will
bring it out, finally. Perhaps now
it will all come out.
She turns and heads down the walk.
Her high-heeled footsteps echo on the walk, then the sidewalk,
then are lost in the rustle of leaves.
Ed watches her go: a small black figure, growing smaller.
PRISON MEETING ROOM
It is an unadorned room with a simple wooden table and chairs.
One high window lets in a shaft of sunlight.
Ed and Doris sit at the table; Freddy Riedenschneider stands
to one side staring up at the high window, hands dug into
his pockets.
All three are motionless for a long beat. Finally:
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...It stinks.
DORIS
But it's true.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
I don't care it's true, it's not
true; it stinks. You say he was being
blackmailed; by who? You don't know.
For having an affair; with who? You
don't know. Did anyone else know
about it? Probably not; you don't
know.
ED
I knew about it. Big Dave told me
about it, and the spot he was putting
himself in by getting the money.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
Terrific. Your husband backs you up.
That's terrific.
He starts pacing.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...You've gotta give me something to
work with. Freddy Riedenschneider is
good, but he's not a magician. He
can't just wave his little wand in
the air and make a plausible defense
materialize. Look. Look at what the
other side is gonna run at us. They
got the company books, prepared by
you--*cooked* by you--that's Motive.
They got a murder scene *you* had
access to. That's Opportunity. They
got that little trimmer thing he was
stabbed in the throat with--a *dame's*
weapon--
ED
It was Big Dave's.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
--don't interrupt me--that's Means.
They got a fine upstanding pillar of
the business community as a victim,
and then they got *you*, a disgruntled
number-juggling underling who on the
day in question was drunk as a skunk
and whose alibi for the time in
question is being passed out at home,
alone.
ED
*I* was with her.
Riedenschneider gives him a hard look.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...Like I say, it stinks.
Another long pause.
ED
...I killed him.
Riedenschneider eyes him. Wheels start turning.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
OK, we forget the blackmail. *You*
killed him. How come?
ED
He and Doris... were having an affair.
Doris eyes him. His manner does not reveal anything.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
OK, how did you know?
ED
I... just knew. A husband knows.
Riedenschneider rolls his eyes.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
Will anyone else say they knew?
ED
I don't know. I don't think so.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
How did you get into the store?
ED
I took Doris's keys.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
Will anyone say they saw you there?
On your way there? In there? On your
was back?
ED
...I don't think so.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
Will anyone corroborate and goddamn
part of your story at all?
Ed returns Riedenschneider's stare. Riedenschneider resumes
pacing.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...Come on, people. You can't help
each other like that. Let's be
realistic now. Let's look at our
options. Well, frankly, I don't *see*
any options.
A nod of the head indicates Doris:
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...I cannot present Story A.
Another nod indicates Ed:
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...I cannot present Story B. I could
plead you for a nutcase but you look
too composed. I could offer a guilty
plea and in return they don't give
you the juice, but I don't think you
want to spend the rest of your life
in Chino and I know you didn't hire
Freddy Riedenschneider to hold your
hand at a sentencing hearing. Hell,
you could've gotten Lloyd Garroway
for that. No, we're not giving up
yet; you hired Freddy Riedenschneider,
it means you're *not* throwing in
the towel. I litigate, I don't
capitulate. All right, no options,
we gotta think. All right, we go
back to the blackmail thing. It
titillates, it's open ended...
His pacing becomes more animated.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...And it makes *him* the bad guy--
ya dig around, ya never know,
something unsavory from his past, he
approaches you to help with the money,
it's too late, his past comes back
to haunt him, who's to say...
He is heading for the door.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...Yeah. OK. Forget the jealous
husband thing, that's silly; we're
going with the blackmail. I'll be in
touch.
The door slams.
HOTEL LOBBY
The camera drifts in toward the reception desk. Ed talks to
the clerk behind the desk, but the scene plays silently; we
hear only Ed's narration.
ED (V.O.)
Of course, there was *one* person
who could confirm Doris's story, or
plenty of it: the dry-cleaning
pansy...
The desk clerk is shaking his head.
ED (V.O.)
...But he'd left the hotel, skipped
out on his bill...
HALLWAY
It is a rooming-house hallway. A stern middle-aged woman is
on the hall telephone. This too plays silently under the
narration.
ED (V.O.)
He'd also disappeared from the
residence he gave me...
ED'S LIVING ROOM
We are drifting in toward Ed, who nods at the telephone and
then cradles it. He stares down at the business card he holds.
ED (V.O.)
...owing two month's rent. How could
I have been so stupid. Handing over
$10,000. For a piece of paper. And
the man gone... like a ghost...
PULLING BACK FROM ED
In a different living room. He sits on a sofa, hands clasped
behind his head, listening. For the first time, as the voice-
over continues, we hear atmosphere from the scene: piano
music.
ED (V.O.)
...disappeared into thin air,
vaporized, like the Nips at Nagasaki.
Gone now. All gone. The money gone.
Big Dave gone. Doris going. How could
I have been so stupid?
The continuing pull-back reveals Walter Abundas on a nearby
chair, also listening as Birdy plays.
Walter holds a drink in one hand; he is nodding; his eyelids
droop. As the piano piece reaches its mournful conclusion
his chin alights on his chest, his eyelids tremble closed,
and he starts lightly to snore.
BARBERSHOP
The distinctive buzz of electric hairclippers bangs in at
the cut. Ed and Frank stand behind their respective chairs,
administering haircuts.
The customer in Ed's chair is in white shirtsleeves that do
not hide rolls of fat. He has a hot towel over his face that
does not slow his speech, although it does muffle it to some
extent:
CUSTOMER
She makes this stuff, she calls it
gatto, it's got egg in there, it's
got sugar, it's got--it's cake,
basically, except she calls it gatto.
Like if you don't call it cake maybe
you won't put on any weight, like I
need to eat gatto, you know what I'm
saying? This stuff, if I've had a
square meal, I've had my steak and
potatoes, I can just have another
cup of coffee afterward, I won't ask
for the desert if it's not there...
His voice turns into a drone under the narration.
ED (V.O.)
Sooner or later everyone needs a
haircut...
CUSTOMER
Got the recipe from a magazine,
woman's magazine...
ED (V.O.)
We were working for the bank now. We
kept cutting the hair, trying to
stay afloat, make the payments, tread
water, day by day, day by day...
CRANE DOWN
Inside a courtroom we boom down toward the defendant's table,
the fat customer's drone turning into the drone of the bailiff
reading an indictment. Doris stands next to Freddy
Riedenschneider.
ED (V.O.)
Most people think someone's accused
of a crime, they haul 'em in and
bring 'em to trial, but it's not
like that, it's not that fast. The
wheels of justice turn slow...
BAILIFF
...did willfully and with malice
aforethought take the life of one
David Allen Brewster, a human being...
ED (V.O.)
They have an arraignment, and then
the indictment, and they entertain
motions to dismiss, and postpone,
and change the venue, and alter this
and that and the other. They empanel
a jury, which brings more motions,
and they set a trial date and then
change the date, and then often as
not they'll change it again.
BAILIFF
What say you to these charges?
Our boom down has ended close on Doris. We hear Freddy
Riedenschneider, off:
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
We plead not guilty, your honor.
BARBERSHOP
Booming down toward the fat man.
ED (V.O.)
And through all of it we cut the
hair.
CUSTOMER
I say, Honey, if you're gonna make a
cobbler, make a little bit of cobbler,
don't put a whole pan in front of me
and tell me it's not gonna be any
good when it's cold...
OPERA SINGERS
We are panning photographic portraits of opera singers in
character, wearing the wardrobe of different eras, armies,
dukedoms, and boudoirs, and displaying the heights and depths
of various emotions, their mouths stretched wide in song. We
pan off the pictures to discover that we are in a hotel room,
floating in toward a bed on which Freddy Riedenschneider, a
mask over his eyes, slumbers.
ED (V.O.)
...Meanwhile, Freddy Riedenschneider
slept at the Metropole...
RESTAURANT
Tracking in toward Freddy Riedenschneider, who sits twirling
spaghetti with a fork against a spoon.
ED (V.O.)
...and shoveled it in at DaVinci's.
LATERAL TRACK
From inside a car. Pedestrians bustle along a sidewalk. Among
them scurries a weedy little man who has one hand clamped to
the crown of his hat to keep it in place in a stiff wind.
ED (V.O.)
He'd brought in a private investigator
from Sacramento...
LATERAL TRACK
Moving the opposite way. A different day, but again a crowd
moves along the sidewalk, and among them the little man
scuttles in the opposite direction, hand still raised to his
hat, his forearm and the tilt of his head largely obscuring
his face.
ED (V.O.)
...to nose around into Big Dave's
past.
PUSHING IN TO ED
In the Abundas living room again, again listening to Birdy
at the piano, but now the two of them are alone.
ED (V.O.)
I found myself more and more going
over to the Abundas's. It was a
routine we fell into, most every
evening. I even went when Walter was
away on his research trips. He was a
genealogist, had traced back his
side of the family seven generations,
his late wife's, eight. It seemed
like a screwy hobby. But then maybe
all hobbies are. Maybe Walter found
something there, in the old county
courthouses, hospital file rooms,
city archives, property rolls,
registries, something maybe like
what I found listening to Birdy play.
Some kind of escape. Some kind of
peace...
The piano music ends in a sustain which begins to fade, but
then is snapped by a sharp clang.
PRISON DOOR SWINGS OPEN
We are pushing into the high-windowed prison meeting room.
None of its three occupants is moving.
The tableau consists of Doris staring down at the table; the
private investigator sitting on a straightbacked chair tipped
back against a wall, his arms folded across his chest, his
fedora pushed back on his head, a toothpick clamped between
his teeth; and Freddy Riedenschneider, standing, hands clasped
behind his back, gazing with a distant smile up into the
shaft of light that slants through the high window.
A warder shuts the door behind Ed.
Doris and the private investigator turn to note his entrance;
Riedenschneider does not.
Ed pulls out a chair across from Doris, clasps his hands on
top of hers.
ED
'Lo, honey.
She looks at his hands on top of hers.
A long beat.
Still gazing up into the shaft of light, Freddy
Riedenschneider announces:
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...They got this guy, in Germany.
Fritz something-or-other. Or is it.
Maybe it's Werner. Anyway, he's got
this theory, you wanna test something,
you know, scientifically--how the
planets go round the sun, what
sunspots are made of, why the water
comes out of the tap--well, you gotta
look at it. But sometimes, you look
at it, your looking *changes* it. Ya
can't know the reality of what
happened, or what *would've* happened
if you hadden a stuck in your goddamn
schnozz. So there *is* no 'what
happened.' Not in any sense that we
can grasp with our puny minds. Because
our minds... out minds get in the
way. Looking at something changes
it. They call it the 'Uncertainty
Principle.' Sure, it sounds screwy,
but even Einstein says the guy's on
to something.
His gaze up at the window breaks. He strolls around the room,
still smiling.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...Science. Perception. Reality.
Doubt...
He stops to examine a bur on his fingernail.
RIEDENSCHNEIDER
...Reasonable doubt. I'm sayin',
sometimes, the more you look, the
less you really know. It's a fact. A
proved fact. In a way, it's the only