In the Electric Mist Page #2

and run an investigation.

Their coroner's got them bones

now waiting on you.

Autopsy report came in

on that LeBlanc girl.

Looks like we're talking

about a psychopath,

somebody wired to the eyes

on crack or meth.

Maybe.

I think she knew him.

So you don't think

it was a John?

No, she left her purse

behind the bar

with all her condoms in it.

Cherry LeBlanc was

a working girl with ambition.

Maybe she misjudged

a business opportunity here.

Who's a girl like that

going to be in business with?

Um... Baby Feet?

Maybe Baby Feet.

What's happening, Cholo?

I thought

you was in the pen.

No, man.

Katrina,

she rinsed my hands clean.

The whole damn crlme lab

washed off

down the river.

Ain't got nothing on me

in New Orleans.

Doing fine, bro.

Besides that, they ain't

even got enough money

to lobotomize

guys like me no more.

What's going on, Dave?

I'm investigating a murder,

Julie.

No kldding.

Y'all worried about me,

Dave?

Hell yes.

How many guys

would burn down their own

father's nightclub with their

own father still in it?

You got to forgive me

if I get a little upset

by these

kinds of attitudes, Dave.

I come home

to this shithole.

I'm a prominent man

in the entertainment business.

I talk on the phone every day

to people in California

you read about

in Entertainment Weekly.

They ought to have

"Welcome Back Balboni Day."

Instead,

I get treated

like sewer gas by you.

You understand

what I'm saying, Dave.

It hurts me.

Sit down

while I take a whiz.

Cholo,

where's your hospitality?

Get the man

a soft drink.

Here, Lieutenant.

Julie was telling me

about that time

that n*gger

almost popped you with a .38

in the French Quarter.

Said he saved your life.

Weren't you and Julie baseball buddies

in high school?

Take the hint,

Cholo.

This guy's

not a conversationalist.

You working on that

Cherry LeBlanc deal?

What you know

about that?

All over

today's paper, man.

Julie and me

were just talking about it.

Sounds like you got

one sick f*** on the loose.

My meter's running,

Julie.

I want to talk about

that murdered girl

we found south of town.

Which girl is that?

Cherry LeBlanc.

I guess

I ain't heard about it.

You don't read

the newspaper?

I've been busy.

I can see that.

We used to be friends,

Dave.

I even maybe

did you a favor once.

So I'm going to line it out

for you and any locals

that want to get

the wax out their ears.

Louisiana's flat-ass broke.

New Orleans

is a mortuary.

And the bottom

of a toilet's got more appeal

than this shithole

in the bayou.

So they better

wake up to the fact

that we are dropping

close to $40 million

in Iberia Parish.

They don't like the name

Balboni around here?

We'll move the whole

f***ing movie

over to Mississippi.

See how that floats

with those coon-ass jack-offs

on the Chamber of Commerce.

You're

in the movie business now?

Yeah, I'm producing Whlte Doves

with Michael Goldman.

What you think

about that?

I'm sure everybody

wishes you success, Julie.

I'ma do

a baseball movie next.

You want a part in it?

You can go on in.

You remember me, Dave?

It's Doucet, isn't it?

Yes, sir,

Murphy Doucet.

You got a good memory.

I was with the Jefferson Parish

Sheriff's Department

when you were with NOPD.

I guess you're

in the movie business now,

along with everybody else.

Yeah, I own half

of a security service now,

and I'm still with the Teamsters

out of Lafayette.

So I'm kind of doing

double duty here.

Is there some kind of trouble?

Where can I find

Mr. Goldman?

Right on the other side

of them trees.

I'll let him know

you're coming.

It's all right.

I'll find him.

We had two divisions of soldiers

march through that?

Looks like we're shooting

a bread commercial.

Where'd we get this cannon,

Toys "R" Us?

All right, I'm going to need

floaters in there,

one face down,

two belly-up.

Use some of the fat extras.

They'll look bloated.

My dead horse?

No.

Not on the call sheet?

Terrific.

We need some blood,

blood-soaked ground,

if that's what it says

in the script.

This is not

the nightly news.

They never show the blood.

This is an allegory.

We're not shooting

the fall of Vicksburg.

This is Baghdad 2007.

Copy that.

If people don't

connect the dots, f*** 'em.

There's a Detective Robicheaux

here to see you, sir.

So you're

investigating a crime.

Seen any crime

around here?

Only crime I'm aware of is

the air conditioning in my trailer.

You could fry an egg

on the toilet seat in there.

Then I've got a lead actor

digging up skeletons

in sandbars, exactly what

I need to be thinking about

while I'm shooting a picture.

Mr. Goldman, is Mr. Julius

Balboni producing this film?

Producing?

I must've really f***ed up

in my previous incarnation.

Maybe I sunk the Tltanlc

or assassinated

Archduke Ferdinand.

I am the only producer.

So Mr. Balboni's lying.

Mr. Balboni is investing

some of his money in a motion picture.

Is that illegal?

Congratulations.

You in business with the man

that hung Fulvio Raneri's cousin

up by his colon

on a meat hook.

Do you recognize

this girl,

Cherry LeBlanc?

How you are, Hogman?

Come on up

on the porch.

Grab a chair.

You knew that LeBlanc girl,

didn't you?

I don't like to have nothing

to do with white folks' business,

but it bothers me

what somebody do to that girl.

I spoke to her about two hours

before she left the juke.

She said, "Hogman,

in the next life, me and you

going to get married."

That's what she said.

I said, "Darling, don't let the

men misuse you for no chicken."

She said, "I'm going

to have myself a town house

on Lake Pontchartrain."

Was she mixed up with somebody

from New Orleans?

Probably some white-trash pimp

told her she special,

she pretty.

Instead,

she got herself killed.

You're mixed up with

that skeleton they found

in the Atchafalaya,

ain't you?

How do you know

about that?

When somebody find

a dead black man,

black people

knows about it.

I'm listening.

A blue jay don't sit

on a mockingbird's nest.

The mockingbird will whoop

the blue jay's ass every time.

What are we talking about here,

Sam?

I'm talking

about a black man.

And he was carrying on

with a white woman

who husband

he worked for.

I think them was his bones

you dug in that sandbar.

What was his name?

Who care what's his name?

I think he got

what he asked for.

I say, "Past is past,

and don't be

messing with it."

You warning me?

What was

that white woman's name?

I got to go

start my beans now.

Alafair,

you got to keep this raccoon

out of my fried pie.

Next time he come in here,

I'm gonna swat him with my broom.

Tripod's just an animal.

Why don't you try kicking the

smell of cigars out of the yard?

Alafair, you shouldn't

talk to Batist like that.

But he threatened Tripod

with menacing violence.

Tripod's a raccoon, baby.

Apologize to Batist.

Sorry for what I said.

And I'm saying it

Rate this script:2.0 / 6 votes