Affliction Page #6

JACK:

Lawyer? I don't need no lawyer, do

I?

LARIVIERE:

No, of course not. Just say it, that's

all.

Wade watches LaRiviere get into his pickup, drive off.

WADE:

Where'd Twombley get shot?

JACK:

In the chest.

WADE:

(offers cigarette)

No, I mean whereabouts.

JACK:

(points)

A half mile in, along the old lumber

road.

WADE:

You bring him up yourself? That's a

steep climb.

JACK:

The ambulance guys lugged him up.

WADE:

You stayed away?

JACK:

Yeah.

WADE:

Where'd you get the blood?

JACK:

What blood?

WADE:

On your sleeve.

JACK:

Musta... How'd I know? What're you

doing, playing cop?

WADE:

I gotta make a report to Fish and

Game. I was just wondering, that's

all. What'd he do, to shoot himself,

I mean?

JACK:

Who the f*** knows? Musta slipped or

something. I just heard the gun go

off.

WADE:

I never seen a man shot before. Not

even in the service. Must be

something.

JACK:

Well, I didn't actually see him do

it. Like I said.

WADE:

Sure you did.

JACK:

What?

WADE:

Saw him do it?

JACK:

What the f*** you telling me, Wade?

I never seen the guy get shot, I

told you that.

WADE:

You musta seen him get shot. I know

you did.

JACK:

Let's get the f*** outta here. You're

not making any sense, man.

They walk over to Jack's burgundy pickup. Wade eyes the rifles

in the gun rack.

WADE:

There's your old twenty-gauge, and

that there's the new Browning you

was showing me last night. This must

be Twombley's gun. Brand new. Very

fancy tooling. Probably fired one

time. It's a beautiful piece of work.

(touches it)

But what the hell, Jack, I guess you

deserve it. Right's right.

JACK:

(starts engine)

Yeah.

WADE:

Twombley sure as hell won't be

shooting it again.

JACK:

He sure as hell won't.

CUT TO:

INT. WADE'S TRAILER - NIGHT

Late. Wade Whitehouse, lying in bed with an icepack on his

cheek, talks on the phone:

WADE:

Rolfe.

ROLFE (O.S.)

Wade?

WADE:

Yeah, brother, look, I was calling

cause -- has there been anything on

TV in Boston about a hunting accident

with a guy named Twombley, Evan

Twombley?

ROLFE (O.S.)

There was something. It happened up

your way.

WADE:

Yeah, I know him -- the kid that was

with him. Maybe you do too. Jack

Hewitt. He works for LaRiviere with

me. He's my best friend.

ROLFE (O.S.)

Wade, it's late. I know you're

probably at Toby's, but I'm in bed

reading. We got different habits.

WADE:

No, not tonight. I'm in bed too. I'm

calling because I need you to listen.

You're supposed to be a smart guy.

You're a professor. I got this theory.

Jack says he didn't see Twombley

shot but he did.

CUT TO:

EXT. ACCIDENT SCENE - DAY

Wade's theory -- in black-and-white: Twombley's footing slips.

Jack turns to watch. Twombley's gun hits frozen rocks, fires,

blows a hole through his chest.

CUT TO:

INT. WADE'S TRAILER - NIGHT

WADE:

It'll come out Jack lied and the

kid'll get hung for it.

ROLFE (O.S.)

He was scheduled to testify for a

committee investigating organized

crime in New England and the

construction business.

WADE:

Who?

ROLFE (O.S.)

Twombley.

WADE:

No sh*t.

ROLFE (O.S.)

You think Jack shot him?

WADE:

Well, it was an accident.

ROLFE (O.S.)

They were out deer hunting, right?

Jack probably heard the gun go off,

then came back and found the body.

CUT TO:

EXT. ACCIDENT SCENE - DAY

Another theory:
Black-and-white. Jack sees a figure run from

Twombley's body.

CUT TO:

INT. WADE'S TRAILER - NIGHT

Wade shifts the phone from ear to ear:

WADE:

Lillian was here. In Lawford.

ROLFE (O.S.)

Huh?

WADE:

The night before the shooting.

ROLFE (O.S.)

How was she?

WADE:

Picked up Jill. She was supposed to

visit for the weekend for Halloween.

She wanted to go home.

ROLFE (O.S.)

Who?

WADE:

Jill. I was thinking of getting a

lawyer. Maybe you can help me.

ROLFE (O.S.)

What happened?

WADE:

A divorce lawyer. A custody lawyer.

You know, 'cause of Jill.

CUT TO:

EXT. WADE'S TRAILER - NIGHT

TIMECUT:
mobile homes.

CUT TO:

INT. WADE'S TRAILER - NIGHT

ROLFE (O.S.)

Don't think about it. You're

exhausted.

WADE:

Yeah, I guess.

ROLFE (O.S.)

Get some sleep.

WADE:

I get to feeling like a whipped dog

some days, Rolfe, and some night I'm

going to bite back. I swear it.

ROLFE (O.S.)

Haven't you already done a bit of

that?

WADE:

No, no, I haven't. Not really. I've

growled a little, but I haven't bit.

Sound of GUNSHOT.

CUT TO:

EXT. MOUNTAINS - DAY

Wade's bubble-top Fairlane drives through snow covered hills.

CUT TO:

EXT. MEL GORDON'S HOUSE - DAY

The Fairlane is parked outside a substantial summer house

with a wide porch and frozen pond. The "speeding" BMW in the

drive. Wade knocks on the front door. An 8 year-old boy

answers the door. Wade speaks; the boy goes back inside.

MRS. GORDON, 30, delicate, beautiful, wearing a dark green

robe, comes to the door. Her eyes are red-rimmed. Wade has

seen her before, but not this close. He feels awkward.

MRS. GORDON

Who are you?

WADE:

I was... I'm Wade Whitehouse. I was

wondering, is your husband here?

MRS. GORDON

He's asleep. We were up very late.

WADE:

Well, yes, I'm... I want to say that

I'm real sorry about your father,

Mrs. Twombley.

MRS. GORDON

Mrs. Gordon. Thank you.

WADE:

Well, yeah, I suppose. Sure. I just

had a little business to settle with

Mr. Gordon. I'm the local police

officer.

MRS. GORDON

Something about my father?

WADE:

Oh, no. No, it's a... it's a traffic

thing. No big deal.

MRS. GORDON

Can't it wait, then?

MEL GORDON, 40, dark-eyed, wearing a tartan robe, steps behind

his wife.

MEL GORDON:

Whitehouse. Next time, phone ahead.

WADE:

How's that?

Mel folds his arms. His wife goes inside.

MEL GORDON:

I said, 'Next time, phone ahead.'

WADE:

Jesus Christ. Mr. Gordon, when I

come all the way to serve somebody a

summons, I don't call ahead for an

appointment.

MEL GORDON:

What the hell are you talking about?

WADE:

I'm issuing you a ticket. Moving

violation.

MEL GORDON:

Moving violation! I just got out of

bed and you're telling me you're

giving me a goddamn speeding ticket?

Now? Are you nuts? Is that it,

Whitehouse? You're nuts?

WADE:

(writing)

Yesterday morning, you passed a

stopped school bus, which was flashing

its lights, then you--

MEL GORDON:

(stops Wade's arm)

Hold on!

WADE:

(wrenches hand free)

Don't ever put your hands on me, Mr.

Gordon.

MEL GORDON:

You're talking about a goddamned

ticket, from when I passed you at

the school where you were deciding

to hold up traffic while dreaming of

becoming a traffic cop or something?

WADE:

Don't give me a hard time, Mr. Gordon.

I'm just --

MEL GORDON:

Doing your f***ing job. I know. I

watch television too.

WADE:

Yes. Here's your ticket.

MEL GORDON:

(refusing ticket)

You get the hell out of my house

now, a**hole. And know this -- you

are going to be a lucky a**hole if I

haven't got you fired before the day

is out. I can do it with one phone

call, and I'm pissed enough to do it

now!

Mel Gordon moves Wade out of the door, slams it. Wade steps

away, looks back at the house. Mrs. Gordon watches him from

the window.

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