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TEXT, WHITE ON BLACK: BOSTON, MASSACHUETTS 1929.
FADE IN ON:
TOWERING OFFICE BLOCK
We are below a tower of concrete and glass. We are in
downtown Boston, Massachuetts. The year is 1929, a month shy
of the WALL STREET CRASH. This like the rest of the film is
shot in BLACK AND WHITE in a real authentic film noire style.
CUT TO:
INT. OFFICE BLOCK - LIFT - BOSTON, 1929 - DAY
An attractive woman in a lift with a young man and a lift
hop. She is DOLORES PRESSBURGER, twenty eight, a feisty
young thing. Immaculately dressed. The young man is EDDY
MOSSBACHER, age thirty with a pencil mustache. The lift hop
is SIDNEY WURTZ in his mid sixties with a slip of white hair.
The lift slowly moving.
We can hear 1920s STYLE JAZZ MUSIC - Duke Ellington or the
like, free wheeling jazz.
INT. THE LIFT SHAFT - DAY
We are looking down at the elevator being winched by thick
cables.
INT. LIFT - DAY
The PING of the elevator stopping.
Eddy Mossbacher waits while Wurtz struggles to open the front
cage/grille.
Wurtz finally snaps it open. Eddy lumbers out.
Wurtz attacks the grille again. He punches a button on the
console and up we go up...
...and stop at Dolores' floor
CUT TO:
INT. LONG CORRIDOR - DAY
We are moving down a long corridor. The walls are full of
theatrical and movie posters, photos of stars of 1920s Silent
Hollywood. There are a series of office doors at intervals
down the corridor. Dolores runs her hand along wall as she
walks the hallway.
We pass a door saying DELANEY & SONS, PSYCHIATRY PRACTICE and
another saying SMITH & SUGAR FOODS and finally we arrive at a
pebbled glass door.
GLASS DOOR
With the words EDDIE FALCON ASSOCIATES, INVESTIGATIONS
UNDERTAKEN etched on the glass.
Dolores raps on the pebbled glass.
VOICE (O.S.)
Yeah
CUT TO:
INT. A SPACIOUS OFFICE - DAY
The room is spartan in its décor. A man sits behind a desk
with a rusted typewriter, a spill of files and loose papers
and a box of Cuba's finest cigars. A license is framed on
the wall. The man is ELLIOTT "BUZZ" CARSON, mid thirties.
Dolores takes a chair and shucks out of her fur coat.
Elliott folds up his copy of the Boston Herald. We can see a
headline shouting "Color TV pictures in New York!"
ELLIOTT
Miss...
DOLORES
Pressburger, Dolores Pressburger.
ELLIOTT
As in, Pressburger and Howlett -
the auto factory?
DOLORES
One and the same.
ELLIOTT
Uh-huh. So what seems to be the
problem?
DOLORES
Dolores, the second part's a bit of
a mouthful.
ELLIOTT
You bet.
DOLORES
Mr. Falcon, may I call you Eddie?
ELLIOTT
You bet. Call me whatever you want.
Call me Sherm, Barry, Jack or Larry
or all I care.
(beat)
Falcon's off da premises at the
present. Working on a case,
skimming the particulars. I speak
for the big man - business partners
in this racket. Whatever you say
to Eddie has to go through me.
Elliott Carson at your service.
Please.
DOLORES
It's my husband, Victor.
Dolores plunks down a 10 x 8 photo on the desk.
THE PHOTO
Is a portrait of a bullish man in his fifties, a decent
portrait of Victor Pressburger, chairman of the automobile
organisation with a cigar clenched between his lips.
Elliott picks up the photo.
ELLIOTT
Uh-huh. I know where you can get
that framed.
DOLORES
Is that so?
ELLIOTT
Sure. Go on.
DOLORES
I want you to nail that sonofabitch
husband of mine. The schmuck's
been screwin' around...again...
Stickin' his snoz where it isn't
required...I'll pay you to find his
fat Boston ass and nail it to the
godammed wall.
ELLIOTT
Nail him?
DOLORES
Yeah. I want my Victor nipped in
the bud, merged with the infinite -
are we on the right page Mr.
Carson?
ELLIOTT
Clear as silted mud. You thought
this through. I mean it's kinda
strong what you're askin'.
DOLORES
Bet your ass I am.
ELLIOTT
Okay... I'll grease the stiff's
noodle. I'm good for it. The next
time to see this schmuck he's gonna
have a six foot advantage over you.
Let's talk shop, this kind of
operation won't be easy on the
purse strings.
DOLORES
No sweat.
ELLIOTT
This whole schmoo is for the
bread...insurance payout, right?
DOLORES
You catch the papers...the factory
is on its last legs. The stupid
sap is ruined, or will be in a
minute. His business partner did a
runner with most of the dough...to
New Mexico, hiding out in the
desert.
ELLIOTT
You've got enough to pay up?
DOLORES
I ain't insolvent. Been skimming a
little off the top...
ELLIOTT
Sweet. My fee is 100 large per -
plus expenses, hotels, meals, the
whole deal.
DOLORES
I'm good for that.
ELLIOTT
I know just the schmuck for the job
in hand, a real pro in that field.
This goon owes me certain favours -
he'll drill some holes in the right
places...
DOLORES
I like it - you don't get the dirty
laundry, you ship it to the
laundrette.
ELLIOTT
Exactly. You bring any collateral
to get the ball into swing.
DOLORES
Sure.
ELLIOTT
(handed the cash)
Just the ticket. Let's run over the
finer details.
He thumbs through the wad of bills, counting them as he
talks.
DOLORES
So long as he doesn't get up again,
I'm not picky.
ELLIOTT
Sure...any kind of message to be
relayed to the stiff?
DOLORES
Thanks for the ring.
Elliott pulls out a bottle of Bourbon.
CUT TO:
SHOT GLASSES
Sitting on the mahogany desk.
ICE CUBES
Are dropped into the glass. GLUG-GLUG as the Bourbon is
poured into both. Elliott drops an a tablet into his glass.
The FIZZ of the tablet in the Bourbon.
ELLIOTT
For my head.
DOLORES
Victor's going to want one those!
ELLIOTT AND DOLORES
We hear the CLINK of their glasses as they are raised.
ELLIOTT
To Victor.
DOLORES
Soon to ex-husband.
ELLIOTT
To your insolvent husband.
Both drain their drinks.
CUT TO:
ELLIOTT AT THE WINDOW
He is peering out of the venetian blinds, his back to
Dolores.
ELLIOTT
You read the papers, Doll? You got
a Television set? I got me one
last year, one hundred clams a pop.
Beautiful bakelite number. They are
the future.
These suckers now come in colour -
can you believe that?
(a beat)
I'm colour blind, shades of black
and white and grey for me. Say
Dolores, what's it like in colour.
I don't even know what color dress
you've got here. It looks a kinda
grey, smudge. A sharp grey smudge.
DOLORES
A detective without Technicolor.
Damn, what a kind of a racket are
you guys running?
ELLIOTT
Don't sweat it! I can see fine.
Apart from them colours. A limited
palette to work with I admit. Like
that schmuck Picasso. Sharp as a
hawk, mind ya. Nothing will get
past these peepers.
DOLORES
Why are you telling me this Mr.
Carson? Didn't catch your first
name?
ELLIOTT
I never offered it, Dolores. It's
Elliott, but my friends...and I'd
like to thing you're inside my
sphere now - call me Buzz.
DOLORES
Buzz, what's with the spiel? I
think we can dispense with the
smalltalk now.
ELLIOTT
I don't know really. You're quite a
woman. An attractive woman...
DOLORES
Lose the hustle, mister, you're
hustling the hustler...You're all
right. I never met a colour
deficient before. Just get it over
with. No complications all right.
ELLIOTT
No worries. Give me a couple of
days to rig it up.
DOLORES
Stands up and takes the fur coat from Elliott. She wriggles
into her coat.
DOLORES
I'll give you a shout in a week,
okay.
ELLIOTT
Neat.
With a flick of her fur coat she vanishes.
ELLIOTT
Is alone again with his thoughts. The poor guy is sweating
like a monkey. Elliott dabs at his forehead with measured
jabs.
Elliot loosens his neck tie, as if being choked by it. He
picks up the bottle and takes a drink straight from it.
He feels the fiery liquor burn the back of his throat.
ELLIOTT ON HIS FEET
Heads towards a framed picture. It is a grainy blow up of
the urban cityscape of the Big Apple with the Manhattan
Bridge and icy Hudson below. Elliott turns the picture out
of the way to reveal...
...a MONEY SAFE. Built into the wall. Elliott turns the
dial. It CLICKS as he punches in the numbers.
THE SAFE
Swings open to reveal a pile of papers, stacks of dollar
bills and a black PISTOL. Elliott picks up the pistol. And
grabs a packet of dollars and shoves them into his pockets.
THE DESK
Elliott picks up the photo of Victor and roughly folds it up
in half and then in half again and places in it a shirt
pocket. Elliott removes the pistol from his waist band and
places it on the desk. He picks up and then turns over a
framed photo of his wife and kid.
Elliott slowly and methodically loads the gun with bullets.
The gun is placed in the middle of the desk. Elliott spins
the gun in a circle.
We suddenly hear a KNOCKING on the door.
It is Eddy Mossbacher, the guy we met briefly in the elevator
at the start of the film.
EDDY
What the hell is this? Listen,
buddy, I don't pay you to sit on
your scrawny ass all day. Come on
a bit of hustle won't kill ya,
Buzz. You need to be a tad more
pro-active...Get out there,
knocking on doors or there's no
paycheque in it. C'mon.
Eddy sees the pistol on the desk.
EDDY
What's with the piece. I know
trade is slack, you can't go round
plugging a gun into people's heads
to make sales...Get your ass in
gear or move it out of here. How
am I going to pay the bills? I'm
caught between a rock and a hard
place and you're biting your
thumbnails down to the bone and
chewing the fat...
Eddy SLAMS the door.
A beat...and the door re-opens, Eddy still attached to it.
EDDY
I thought I told you to get this
godammed door changed, we ain't no
private dick outfit...these guys
moved out nearly a month ago. Wake
your ass up and give it once over!
Door SLAMS even louder.
Elliott is holding his head in his hands.
FADE TO BLACK:
We hear more JAZZ MUSIC filter from inside the building.
THE END
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