Basic Instinct Page #3

Could someone give me a ride home?

Sure.

Thank you.

Want to get a drink?

- Rough day?|- Not really.

Beating that machine can't be easy.

If I was guilty and wanted to beat|that machine, it wouldn't be hard.

It wouldn't be hard at all.

You took a lie detector test after|you shot those two people, didn't you?

I passed.

You see?|We're both innocent, Nick.

You seem to know|an awful lot about me.

You know an awful lot about me.

I don't know anything|that's not police business.

You know I don't wear|any underwear. Don't you, Nick?

Thanks for the ride.

Would you like|another glass of wine?

- Hi, Nick.|- Evening.

What's all this "Nick" stuff?

"Nick, do you want a cigarette?|Nick, can I have a ride?"

She didn't ask me to give her a ride.|She asked anybody.

- And you volunteered.|- Hey, Nick. Evian?

No, Chuckie. Get me a double blackjack|on the rocks, please.

What you doing, Hoss?

I haven't had a drink|in three months.

All right with you, cowboy?

- She doesn't know me, okay?|- Here you go.

I never seen her before|Gus and I talked with her.

- Thanks, Chuck.|- You're sure?

Yes, I'm sure.

Cheers.

Now what?

What "now what"?|Now nothing.

She passed the polygraph.|That's it.

She knew how to beat it,|that's why she took it.

How in the f*** do you know?|What is it with you and this broad?

Come on, Phil.|Don't let this one slide.

What about her parents?|What about what else she published?

Maybe all her books come true.

Her parents died in an accident.|I don't care what else she published.

What are you, a book critic?

How'd they die?|Was there an investigation?

You're saying she killed her parents?|Did she kill Manny Vasquez too?

Not unless she climbed into the ring|and turned into one mean son of a b*tch.

Maybe she did.|Maybe she grew herself an afro...

developed a hell of a left hook|and put shoe polish all over her face.

- Let's polygraph her again.|- F*** you.

F*** you too.

Don't worry, Phil.|Nick'll f*** himself.

You guys are very funny.|Hey, Chuckie, get me another double.

Hey, shooter!

Are you back|on the blackjack, shooter?

- We're discussing a case here.|- I know that. I have no doubts.

Here you go, Nick.

A double, huh, shooter?

I'm off duty, Nilsen.

You hear me?|I'm off duty discussing a case.

Now, I.A. Shouldn't|have a problem with that.

Maybe I should put in|for some overtime?

Don't work too hard, shooter.|It might drive you to drink.

Stop riding me, man!|I'll kick your f***ing teeth in!

- What's the problem?|- No problem, Doctor.

Here comes the shrink, just in time|to save her favorite patient.

Just f*** off, Marty!

You kids have a good time tonight, huh?

- He's asking for it.|- That's right, so don't take the bait.

Do you want to go?

- Yes.|- Let's go.

Sometimes I think he started banging her|just to get Internal Affairs off him.

He ain't that way.|He's got a heart.

Damn!

What was she like?

- Who?|- Catherine Tramell.

You had her pegged.|She used her book as an alibi.

I met her at Berkeley.

We were in some of the same classes.

Why didn't you tell me?

I'm telling you.

You've never been|like that before. Why?

You tell me.|You're the shrink.

- You weren't making love to me.|- Who was I making love to?

You weren't making love.

I need a cigarette.

I thought you said you quit.

It's the top drawer in the foyer.

Get it on your way out!

- Have you started?|- Waitin' on you.

- You look like dog sh*t.|- No, he looks a little shrunk is all.

And not just in the head.

All right, I made a couple|of calls to Berkeley.

There was a murder in '80.|A professor.

In his bed, multiple stab wounds,|with an ice pick.

Tramell was there then,|wasn't she?

University records say she was.

Okay, let's move on this.|Gus, get out to Berkeley.

Harrigan, find out|what else she's published.

Andrews, get me that file|on the parents' accident.

Copy Beth on everything.|I want psychological input.

- What about me?|- You're already getting input.

You go soak your head|in a tub of ice water.

You see where she leads.

You have a good weekend.

You too.

Drive carefully.

- I will.|- Bye-bye.

I'll call you.

Ain't you got nothing better to do|than to jack off the damn machine?

What are you doing here, cowboy?

I came in here to jack off|the damn machine.

One dead psychology professor.

Dr. Noah Goldstein.|And guess what?

He was her counselor.

Was she a suspect?

No, sir. They never|even got a statement from her.

Hazel Dobkins?

Do you know her?

Couldn't get it|out of my head for years.

Nice little housewife.|Three little kids.

Nice husband wasn't porking around.|No financial problems.

One day, out of the clear blue sky,|she does them, all of them.

Used a knife she got|for a wedding present.

Didn't even deny it.|Sweet as honey.

Said she didn't know|why she'd done it.

- Hi.|- Am I disturbing you?

No, come on in.

Let's go upstairs.

I'm using you|for my detective in my book.

You don't mind, do you?

I was just gonna|make myself a drink.

- Do you want one?|- No, thanks.

Oh, right. You're off|the Jack Daniels too, aren't you?

I've got a few more questions|to ask you.

I have some for you too.|For my book.

Do you have something|against ice cubes?

I like rough edges.

So, what did you want to ask me?

How does it feel to kill someone?

You tell me.

I don't know,|but you do.

It was an accident.

They got in the line of fire.

Four shootings in five years,|all accidents?

They were drug buys.|I was working undercover.

You want to tell me|about Professor Goldstein?

Well, there's a name|from the past.

You want a name from the present?|What about Hazel Dobkins?

Noah Goldstein was my counselor|my freshman year.

That's probably where I got the idea|for the ice pick for my book.

Funny how the subconscious works.

Hilarious.

- Hazel's my friend.|- Your friend took out her whole family.

Yes, she helped me understand|homicidal impulse.

I thought you would have|learned that at school.

Only in theory.

But you know all about|homicidal impulse, don't you, shooter?

Not in theory, in practice.

What happened?|Did you get sucked into it?

Did you like it too much?

I don't know|what you're talking about.

Tell me about the coke, Nick.

The day you shot those two tourists...

how much coke did you do?

Come on, you can tell me.

- I didn't.|- Yes, you did.

They never tested you, did they?

Internal Affairs knew.

Your wife knew too, didn't she?

She knew what was going on.

I think you got too close|to the flame.

I think you liked it.

That's why she killed herself.

Hi, hon.

You two have met, haven't you?

You're gonna make|a terrific character, Nick.

She's on the phone.|She'll be right with you.

- I'm gonna have to call you back.|- Detective, you can't go in...

- Who's got access to my file?|- What are you talking about?

Who has access to my goddamn file?

Nobody. It's a confidential|psychiatric record. It would be illegal.

Don't you f***ing lie to me!

It was Internal Affairs, wasn't it?

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