Jennifer 8 Page #12
- R
- Year:
- 1992
- 124 min
- 525 Views
BERLIN:
No! Get me to that garbage dump!
I'm gonna find that f***ing dog!
36:
EXT. CITY DUMP. CITY OF EUREKA. NIGHT.Gloom congeals around flashlights. A winter mist falling down.
TRIMBLE and Doberman watch as BERLIN goes at it with a shovel.
A dozen graves already dug and he's halfway into another. Des-
pite the cold he sweats in shirt sleeves. Also breathless and
rests to catch his wind. "Don't you have to go to bed?" No he
doesn't. He wants to see the victim. Digging recommences with
TRIMBLE supplying the light. BERLIN suddenly stops. "Get that
lamp down here." White lime. Black fur. They've found the Dog.
BERLIN begins an examination holding a tiny flashlight in his
teeth. Eyes excitedly back to TRIMBLE and gesturing towards a
bag. "That bag there. You find a knife and a paira long-nosed
pliers." TRIMBLE does it relishing the snap of a switch-blade.
BERLIN still busy with the light in his mouth. TRIMBLE pissed
because he can't see what's happening. BERLIN removes a crump-
led bullet from the back of the Labrador's skull. Holds it up
for scrutiny. Small calibre. Badly distorted. "Looks like a 22?"
BERLIN:
You didn't shoot him did you?
TRIMBLE:
Me .. I love dogs .. Ask him?
37:
INT. ANTI ROOM/ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. DAY.LETTERS BIG AS A HOUSE. And Loud. The printer reciprocates as
fast as its mechanics are capable. Details coming in from San
Diego. VICAP Case Number/F.B.I. Case Number/Victim Status/etc
etc. Letters smacking into paper too fast to read. But one de-
tail is repeated constantly and underlined. "Identity Unknown."
Transmission ends and BERLIN hauls at least a yard of homicide
out of the machine. Can't believe what he's looking at. "Jesus.
He hit six." Reads as he walks back into the big room and gets
interrupted by a call. "Miss Robertson. Holding." He heads for
the phone with eyes following ANN "Find Ross for me, will you?"
BERLIN (Phone)
Berlin .. yeah .. that's nice of
you, Helena, but I already found
out .. black, yes .. No, no, of
course not, good of you to call ..
You heard a what? .. A hollow car?
A hand shoves papers at the edge of his vision. TAYLOR looks a
mite cheesy. "You got a minute for this?" And BERLIN nods sure.
Yes, I'm still here .. Why didn't
you mention that? .. I see .. Al-
right, we should talk again .. No,
I'm just south of my eye-lids in
it right now .. How about Sunday?
38:
EXT. COAST ROAD. HUMBOLDT BAY. EUREKA. DAY.The first shining day of November. Sand dunes and an infinite
stretch of beach. Behind the sea-break is a lagoon and a tiny
harbor. Berlin's Mercedes descends the coast road towards it.
39:
EXT. HARBOR. HUMBOLDT BAY. EUREKA. DAY.Ross's boat is a 35 foot fisherman. Shining brass and varnish.
But like him it's getting on and often grumpy. This last qual-
ity presently evident in both. Engine roaring and ROSS is cov-
ered in oil. BERLIN has to shout above the racket to be heard.
BERLIN:
.. I put the slug in for a ballis-
tics report, the man tells me, for
get it. Soft lead, it's worthless ..
I think, f*** it. And f*** Citrine.
I call a friend of mine in Los Ang-
eles, and he runs our whole damned
show through a main-frame looking
for anything similar to our ladies
shot with a twenty-two - you don't
believe what he finds in San Diego ..
ROSS detours eyes to wave at his Son. "Watch those revs there."
Would you shut it down a min-
ute, Ross? This is important.
ROSS signals BOBBY to turn off. And the diesel splutters down.
ROSS:
Alright, let's take a walk around
the block .. I gotta buy a gasket ..
40:
EXT. QUAY/HARBOR. HUMBOLDT BAY. DAY.Seagulls and sunshine and probably Saturday because the place
is busy. ROSS walks with BERLIN up a wooden quay. Their journ-
ey will take them across a small bridge towards a Marine Shop.
BERLIN:
months, and give or take a head
or two, the M.O.'s exactly the
same. Dark hair. No hands. All
shot with a high velocity twen-
ty-two in the back of the head.
ROSS:
How come the F.B.I. don't put
anya this together? They work-
ed over "Jennifer" for months?
BERLIN:
They possibly did - but they nev-
er had a head, so they never had
a bullet - and they never got an
I.D. - not on any of em - never
bust a homicide unless you know
who your victim is - we're the
first to get a positive identity.
ROSS:
Identity of whom? You got a girl,
doesn't even have a driver's lic-
ense? .. She's untraceable, John ..
You need fifty detectives on this.
BERLIN:
That's what I'm here for. I want
you to come and see Citrine with
me? He's not gonna here it from
me but I know he'd listen to you.
ROSS:
Listen to me saying what?
BERLIN:
I wanna take that f***ing Blind In-
stitute to pieces .. Every address
book, every phone call, everyone in
and outta there in the last 5 years ..
ROSS:
For a dead dog?
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