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-------------------------

               The following text fades in over black:

               "Why, boys, when I was seventeen I walked into the jungle,
               and when I was twenty-one I walked out. And by God I was
               rich."

                                     - Arthur Miller, Death of a Salesman

                                                       FLARE TO WHITE

                                                             FADE IN:

               We are flying over a suburban housing estate. All of the
               houses are identical. 

               Cars peel away from drives in sync and join a queue of
               commuters. The cars glide down the main street.

               A lawn with a sprinkler machine. The spraying water
               pirouettes and flicks across the plush grass.



               SUBTITLE: SUBURB OF NEW JERSEY, 1937

                                                        FADE TO BLACK

                                                             FADE IN:

               We are gliding over a main road. The painted dashes
               flashing past us.



               INT. NEW JERSEY APARTMENT - DAY

               A man wrapped in a towel is standing in his steamy
               bathroom. The mirror is all steamed up. The man is JERRY
               FRICK.

               Jerry wipes his hand across the mirror.

               His reflection is a mass of rumpled hair, bloodshot flecked
               eyes and an eleven o'clock shadow - despite the fact it is
               so early.



               INT. NEW JERSEY APARTMENT - A SHORT TIME LATER

               Jerry straightening his necktie.



               INT. NEW JERSEY APARTMENT - MOMENTS LATER

               Jerry in a $300 suit drinking the dregs of his coffee. He
               puts the cup down and picks up his briefcase and saunters
               into the hall. 



               INT. JERRY'S CAR - A SHORT TIME LATER

               Cruising down the main road.

               We are above the ground, over the same suburban estate that
               opened the film.



               I/E. JERRY'S CAR - MOMENTS LATER

               Jerry parks the car on the side of the street.



               EXT. SUBURB OF NEW JERSEY - CONTINUOUS

               Jerry walks up the drive of a house carrying his briefcase.



               EXT. SUBURB OF NEW JERSEY - CONTINUOUS

               Jerry rapping on the door...

               Jerry standing on the step...



               EXT. SUBURB OF NEW JERSEY - MOMENTS LATER

               The door opens.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         At last...you're late. 



               INT. THE HOUSE - A LARGE ROOM - DAY

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Take a seat. Over here...I'll get
                         the pictures. 

               Jerry just looks through her.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Pictures?

               She hands Jerry some photographs.

               Jerry shuffles the pictures.

               INSERT: BLACK AND WHITE PHOTOGRAPHS

               They are pictures of a man, her husband Mr. Spellman.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         So how do you want me to handle
                         this?

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Well, there's no point in...going
                         round in circles. I want my
                         husband out of the picture.
                         Nipped in the bud...

               Jerry looks shocked but composed.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Let's re-cap...this isn't like
                         buying a car.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         I'm good for it. 

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Okay.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         You do this all the time...no
                         time to be getting on your high
                         horse...how can you get moral
                         palpitations? 

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         He's dead. End of conversation...

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         ...What about money?

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Right.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Got some quotes. Estimates
                         from...other people in your
                         trade.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Can you do that? I mean they let
                         you do that?

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Sure. Showed me their
                         portfolios...took me to a
                         gig...very professional
                         people...But your work was quite
                         something.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         It's not something you
                         rush...like a divorce, can't fly
                         in. Very messy. Very
                         expensive...it's gonna cost you
                         serious bread to dig yourself out
                         ...if you make the hole too big.

               Jerry is getting very animated.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Takes time. Anticipation and
                         blueprints. Planning.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Got the full whack. $10,000. A
                         banker's draft all right?

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         I won't go in for under 12 G's.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Oh. You said $10,000 last week.
                         That's my savings. The whole lot.
                         It's okay...I'll get the rest
                         after the funeral...

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Hell...I think we can come to
                         some kind of agreement...can cut
                         my fee for a little
                         tumble...upstairs.



               INT. THE BEDROOM - A SHORT TIME LATER

               Jerry is sprawled across the bed. He is stripped to the
               waist. Kath is sitting on the edge of the bed slipping off
               her shoes. 

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         You want to think this over. 

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Let's go for it.

               Kath drops a shoe onto the carpet.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         What was that?

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         What was what?

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         That noise...something crashing
                         downstairs.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Downstairs. You sure?  

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         You want me to check?

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         My husband! Dammit...must be
                         Frank...

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         All right, take it easy.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         You got a gun?

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         A gun? For what?

               Kathy makes a gun out of fingers and a thumb and presses it
               into Jerry's forehead.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                             (almost whispering)
                         Pop...to grease Frank.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Grease. Frank. Downstairs...You
                         got one up here?

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Why would I have a gun?

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Self defence. Gotta a baseball
                         bat, towel rail...something to
                         clock the sucker. Frank a golfer?

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Golf?

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Something I can swing at the
                         guy...Put him down so he won't
                         get up in a hurry.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Just a sec.



               INT. THE BEDROOM - MOMENTS LATER

               Kathy re-emerges from the closet offering a leather golf
               bag, bulging with woods and irons spinning golf balls in
               all directions.

               Jerry snatches at the bag. He selects a nine iron.

               He makes a couple of air-swings with the club.



               INT. THE LANDING UPSTAIRS - CONTINUOUS

               Jerry creeping round the landing and hefting the golf club
               in his hands.



               INT. THE STAIRCASE - CONTINUOUS

               Jerry carefully moving down the stairs. Tense and coiled
               ready to spring into action.

                                                              CUT TO:



               INT. THE LANDING UPSTAIRS - CONTINUOUS

               Kathy hugging herself as she leans across the balustrade. 



               INT. LOOKING DOWN FROM ABOVE - CONTINUOUS

               The spiral staircase corkscrews down to the ground floor.

                                                              CUT TO:



               INT. BOTTOM OF THE STAIRS - MOMENTS LATER

               Jerry is backed up against the wall. Nervous and breathing
               heavily.

               The door to the kitchen is open a crack.

               Gingerly Jerry swings open the door with one hand.

                                                              CUT TO:



               INT. THE LANDING UPSTAIRS - CONTINUOUS

               Kathy framed by the lattice of the balustrade. She is
               tucked behind it, gripping the rungs like a prison cell
               window.

               We hear the SOUND of muffled blows and cracks from below.

                                                              CUT TO:



               INT. THE KITCHEN - CONTINUOUS

               Jerry is standing over the body of a man who has been
               savagely beaten. The rim of the iron is splattered with
               BLOOD. 

               Glass confetti and shattered china is everywhere.

               Jerry drops the golf club. It CLATTERS on the tiles.

               Kathy comes flying into the kitchen. She notes the body on
               her kitchen tiles. She stares at the body.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Fucking hell--

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         --What's the matter? You wanted
                         to go to a funeral.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Yes...but that isn't Frank.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         What! You mean...then who the
                         hell is this putz?

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         Never seen him before...no idea.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Dammit! I'm in a bind!

               The DOORBELL goes.

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Expecting company...maybe Frank?

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                         No. 



               INT. AT THE DOOR - CONTINUOUS

               A man is at the door. The man is SONNY WEISS.

                                   WEISS
                         I'm here about the
                         situation...with your husband.
                         Sonny Weiss...We spoke last week.

                                   KATHY SPELLMAN
                             (indicating Jerry)
                         But...then who is this guy?

                                   WEISS
                         Your husband?...You tell me.

                                   KATH SPELLMAN
                             (to Jerry)
                         Then who the fuck are you?

                                   JERRY FRICK
                         Jerry Frick...Field sales. You
                         interested in investing for the
                         Future?

                                                        FADE TO BLACK



               THE END.



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