Double Indemnity Page #2

and drips. He breathes heavily, with closed eyes. He fingers

a pack of cigarettes in his shirt pocket, pulls it out, looks

at it. There is blood on it. He wheels himself back to the

desk and dumps the loose cigarettes out of the packet. Some

are blood-stained, a few are clean. He takes one, puts it

between his lips, gropes around for a match, lights cigarette.

He takes a deep drag and lets smoke out through his nose.

He pulls himself toward dictaphone again, still in the swivel

chair, reaches it, lifts the horn off the bracket and the

dictaphone makes a low buzzing sound. He presses the button

switch on the horn. The sound stops, the record revolves on

the cylinder. He begins to speak:

NEFF:

Office memorandum, Walter Neff to

Barton Keyes, Claims Manager. Los

Angeles, July 16th, 1938. Dear Keyes:

I suppose you'll call this a

confession when you hear it. I don't

like the word confession. I just

want to set you right about one thing

you couldn't see, because it was

smack up against your nose. You think

you're such a hot potato as a claims

manager, such a wolf on a phoney

claim. Well, maybe you are, Keyes,

but let's take a look at this

Dietrichson claim, Accident and Double

Indemnity. You were pretty good in

there for a while, all right. You

said it wasn't an accident. Check.

You said it wasn't suicide. Check.

You said it was murder. Check and

double check. You thought you had it

cold, all wrapped up in tissue paper,

with pink ribbons around it. It was

perfect, except that it wasn't,

because you made a mistake, just one

tiny little mistake. When it came to

picking the killer, you picked the

wrong guy, if you know what I mean.

Want to know who killed Dietrichson?

Hold tight to that cheap cigar of

yours, Keyes. I killed Dietrichson.

Me, Walter Neff, insurance agent, 35

years old, unmarried, no visible

scars --

(He glances down at

his wounded shoulder)

Until a little while ago, that is.

Yes, I killed him. I killed him for

money -- and a woman -- and I didn't

get the money and I didn't get the

woman. Pretty, isn't it?

He interrupts the dictation, lays down the horn on the desk.

He takes his lighted cigarette from the ash tray, puffs it

two or three times, and kills it. He picks up the horn again.

NEFF:

(His voice is now

quiet and contained)

It began last May. About the end of

May, it was. I had to run out to

Glendale to deliver a policy on some

dairy trucks. On the way back I

remembered this auto renewal on Los

Feliz. So I decided to run over there.

It was one of those Calif. Spanish

houses everyone was nuts about 10 or

15 years ago. This one must have

cost somebody about 30,000 bucks --

that is, if he ever finished paying

for it.

As he goes on speaking, SLOW DISSOLVE TO:

A-12 DIETRICHSON HOME - LOS FELIZ DISTRICT

Palm trees line the street, middle-class houses, mostly in

Spanish style. Some kids throwing a baseball back and forth

across a couple of front lawns. An ice cream wagon dawdles

along the block. Neff's coupe meets and passes the ice cream

wagon and stops before one of the Spanish houses. Neff gets

out. He carries a briefcase, his hat is a little on the back

of his head. His movements are easy and full of ginger. He

inspects the house, checks the number, goes up on the front

porch and rings the bell.

NEFF'S VOICE

It was mid-afternoon, and it's funny,

I can still remember the smell of

honeysuckle all along that block. I

felt like a million. There was no

way in all this world I could have

known that murder sometimes can smell

like honeysuckle...

A-13 EXT. DIETRICHSON HOME - ENTRANCE DOOR

Neff rings the bell again and waits. The door opens. A maid,

about forty-five, rather slatternly, opens the door.

NEFF:

Mr. Dietrichson in?

MAID:

Who wants to see him?

NEFF:

The name is Neff. Walter Neff.

MAID:

If you're selling something --

NEFF:

Look, it's Mr. Dietrichson I'd like

to talk to, and it's not magazine

subscriptions.

He pushes past her into the house.

A-14 HALLWAY - DIETRICHSON HOME

Spanish craperoo in style, as is the house throughout. A

wrought-iron staircase curves down from the second floor. A

fringed Mexican shawl hangs down over the landing. A large

tapestry hangs on the wall. Downstairs, the dining room to

one side, living room on the other side visible through a

wide archway. All of this, architecture, furniture,

decorations, etc., is genuine early Leo Carrillo period.

Neff has edged his way in past maid who still holds the door

open.

MAID:

Listen, Mr. Dietrichson's not in.

NEFF:

How soon do you expect him?

MAID:

He'll be home when he gets here, if

that's any help to you.

At this point a voice comes from the top of the stairs.

VOICE:

What is it, Nettie? Who is it?

Neff looks up.

A-15 UPPER LANDING OF STAIRCASE - (FROM BELOW)

Phyllis Dietrichson stands looking down. She is in her early

thirties. She holds a large bath-towel around her very

appetizing torso, down to about two inches above her knees.

She wears no stockings, no nothing. On her feet a pair of

high-heeled bedroom slippers with pom-poms. On her left ankle

a gold anklet.

MAID'S VOICE

It's for Mr. Dietrichson.

PHYLLIS:

(Looking down at Neff)

I'm Mrs. Dietrichson. What is it?

A-16 SHOOTING DOWN FROM UPPER LANDING

Neff looks up, takes his hat off.

NEFF:

How do you do, Mrs. Dietrichson. I'm

Walter Neff, Pacific All-Risk.

A-17 PHYLLIS

PHYLLIS:

Pacific all-what?

A-18 NEFF

NEFF:

Pacific All-Risk Insurance Company.

It's about some renewals on the

automobiles, Mrs. Dietrichson. I've

been trying to contact your husband

for the past two weeks. He's never

at his office.

A-19 PHYLLIS

PHYLLIS:

Is there anything I can do?

A-20 NEFF

NEFF:

The insurance ran out on the

fifteenth. I'd hate to think of your

getting a smashed fender or something

while you're not fully covered.

A-21 PHYLLIS

She glances over her towel costume.

PHYLLIS:

(With a little smile)

Perhaps I know what you mean, Mr.

Neff. I've just been taking a sun

bath.

A-22 NEFF

NEFF:

No pigeons around, I hope... About

those policies, Mrs. Dietrichson --

I hate to take up your time --

A-23 PHYLLIS

PHYLLIS:

That's all right. If you can wait

till I put something on, I'll be

right down. Nettie, show Mr. Neff

into the living room.

She turns away as gracefully as one can with a towel for a

wrapper.]

A-24 ENTRANCE HALL

Neff watches Phyllis out of sight. He speaks to the maid

while still looking up.

NEFF:

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