Fatal Instinct Page #5

LOLA:

(offering)

Cigarette?

NED:

No... thanks. They're bad for ya.

He goes to the water cooler. She lights up, exhaling a soft

cloud of smoke through a sleepy smile, her voice purring.

LOLA:

Yes, I know. I like things that are

bad for me.

(touching lawbooks)

So... I hear you go both ways.

Ned hesitates... about to drink from the paper cup.

NED:

Only once. It was a fraternity prank.

I never saw him again.

He gulps the water down, crumbles the cup in his hand.

LOLA:

No, I mean... you're a cop and a

lawyer.

NED:

Oh. Yeah. Well, there's a lot of

scum out there on the streets... but

they all deserve a fair and costly

trial.

Ned turns, tries to casually "dunk" the crumpled cup in the

waste basket. He misses.

Laura enters with a huge pile of lawbooks in her arms. She

sees Ned miss the basket and darts over as he bends down to

pick it up.

LAURA:

I'll get that.

She picks it up and tosses it into the waste basket.

NED:

Oh... Laura... this is, uh...

LOLA:

Lola Cain.

Laura sets the heavy load of books on the desk and steps

toward Lola, extending her hand. Lola takes her time removing

the long white glove... finally reaching out and shaking

Laura's hand with a condescending air.

LOLA:

(sarcastic)

So lovely to meet you, Laura.

Ned grabs the books and turns to the bookshelf, replacing

each lawbook in its proper slot.

The "handshake" between Lola and Laura turns tense, then

aggressive, eventually becoming a "standing Indian wrestle"

as they try to force each other off balance with sheer force.

Ned is oblivious to the battle behind him, chattering away.

NED:

Gotta keep these darn books in their

right place or we'll never find the

ones we need. Let's see, Q thru M...

R thru B... W thru F...

Laura suddenly whirls Lola around, putting her in an arm

lock. But Lola elbows Laura in the stomach! Laura doubles

over. Lola feigns sympathy, taking her hand... then spins,

twisting Laura's arm, flipping her head over heels!

Laura lands on the couch... upside down... gasping. Lola

strikes a haughty pose, still holding her lit cigarette. She

takes a drag. Laura checks her watch, then tumbles off the

couch, landing on her feet. She straightens her skirt.

LAURA:

It's getting late. I'll give you a

ride home, Ned.

Finished with the books, Ned turns... smiles.

NED:

I have my car.

LAURA:

I'll tow you.

NED:

Not today. You don't need to wait.

I'll see you tomorrow.

Lola looks at Laura... icy, haughty, triumphant. Laura moves

reluctantly toward the door, sees the lock and door frame

chewed to pieces... whirls around, heads back toward Ned.

LAURA:

I should call someone to fix this...

NED:

Tomorrow...

She instantly spins around, heads back toward the door...

LAURA:

I'll call from home.

...and exits. Ned sits down on the corner of the desk. Lola

sits in the chair across from him.

LOLA:

I think I should warn you, Mr.

Ravine... I'm not wearing any

underwear.

She crosses her legs suggestively... then slowly, enticingly,

re-crosses them in the other direction.

Unimpressed, Ned opens Laura's desk drawer... pulls a pair

of sexy lace panties from a Kleenex-style dispenser box

labeled "PANDORA'S POP-UP PANTIES"... which pulls another

pair up into position. He tosses the panties to Lola.

NED:

Try these on.

She does... very, very slowly and seductively... as they

talk.

NED:

So... what can I do for you?

LOLA:

I've run across some... papers...

and I thought you might be able to

tell me what they are. You see, I'm

not very experienced when it comes

to... papers.

NED:

I'll help you Miss Cain, if I'm able.

Do you have the... papers... here?

LOLA:

No... they're at home. I thought you

might stop by...

NED:

I'm on duty tonight.

LOLA:

Don't they ever give you a night

off?

NED:

Yeah. Tomorrow.

LOLA:

(picks up cigarette)

Why don't we meet tomorrow evening

then?

She finishes pulling the panties on with a sultry smile...

"snapping" the elastic waistband. She goes to the door,

pauses... turns to him.

LOLA:

I'll let you know where.

NED:

(steps over to her)

What's wrong with my office?

She looks around, exhaling another cloud of smoke.

LOLA:

Nothing a good interior decorator

couldn't fix.

She opens the door. Behind her, in the hall, we see Dizzy,

the saxophone player, wailing away on "Lola's Theme."

CLOSE ON LOLA:

She takes a final, long drag on her cigarette, then reaches

O.S. with it... toward Ned.

LOLA:

Take care of this for me, will ya?

With a sultry smile, she turns and leaves, closing the door.

ANGLE ON NED:

The cigarette is stuck in his nose.

INT. NED'S HOUSE - NIGHT

The front door swings open. Frank is standing there, dressed

in a cheap, loose-fitting suit and a T-shirt.

FRANK:

I came back for my shower cap.

Lana, now wearing the diaphanous gown, pulls him inside. She

kisses him hungrily, slipping a frilly plastic shower cap

with a gaudy floral design on his head.

LANA:

Yeah, well you came to the right

place.

She walks to the living room. Frank follows, still wearing

the shower cap. Lana snaps her fingers.

LANA:

Sit down.

He sits in a chair, looking around.

FRANK:

Where is he?

LANA:

On duty all night. By the time he

wraps up his reports, it'll be close

to noon tomorrow.

She sits on the couch, picks up a stack of papers.

LANA:

I was just reading over...

She looks up at Frank. Sees the shower cap.

LANA:

Take off the hat, Frank.

He slips the shower cap off as Lana continues.

LANA:

I was just reading over my husband's

insurance policies. You wouldn't

know anything about insurance, would

you, Frankie?

FRANK:

Yeah, matter of fact, I sell policies

part-time. I got half a brain... or

didn't you notice?

LANA:

I musta had my eye on something else.

(hands him papers)

How about a translation.

He flips through, scanning the pages, shrugging.

FRANK:

Standard accident policy... all the

usual stuff... blah, blah, blah. The

face value is... Wow. Not bad. Three

million bucks!

(flips page)

And there's a triple indemnity rider.

LANA:

Meaning?

FRANK:

Aw, it's just something agents throw

in so we can boost the premium. If

the policy holder dies under very

specific conditions, it pays off

three times the face value of the

policy.

LANA:

Nine million dollars...?

FRANK:

Yeah... but it's a sure bet for the

company. Nobody ever collects.

LANA:

Why not?

FRANK:

Well, like here... it only pays off

if he's shot with a pistol, falls

from a moving northbound train and

drowns in a fresh water stream.

LANA:

All three?

FRANK:

See what I mean, sweetheart? What

are the odds of that?

LANA:

It could happen.

(dramatic beat)

Suppose it did happen?

FRANK:

Then you'd be rich.

LANA:

Then we'd be rich.

FRANK:

What're you sayin'...?

She drops to her knees in front of him, her face close to

his, speaking with a persuasive urgency.

LANA:

We're gonna kill the son-of-a-b*tch!

And I know exactly how! He has a

legal symposium in Santa Barbara

this weekend... All we have to do is

get him to take the train up instead

of driving.

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