Jennifer 8 Page #19

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BERLIN:

How come he's suddenly so forth-

coming? I'd like to kick him right

in the ass. If he'd discussed it

with me, I mighta gotten somewhere ..

ROSS:

Stop it.

BERLIN:

I never knew about the sailor the-

ory, Ross. He might have that one

little thing I need in his files?

ROSS:

John, stop it. The case is on its ass,

you're closed. (Reaches for a menu.)

C'mon, let it go for once .. Have a

drink. C'mon, relax, drink your beer ..

And just that one moment of insanity as BERLIN downs it in one.

Alright .. Let's have some wine ..

64:
INT. BOOTH. "ANGELA'S BAR." NIGHT.

A shabby booth with black and whites of the two unrecognizable

Celebrities who ate here. Hamburgers are almost over and a bot-

tle of wine almost drunk. Both look tanked and especially ROSS.

ROSS:

You gotta stop calling Los Angeles ..

You're dragging L.A. around with you

like an addiction. Look at the sh*t

you're putting yourself through? For

what? For nothing, I know it, I been

there. Remember me? Up to my a**hole

in anger, living off the vitamins in

cigarettes? If there's a body under

the snow, f*** it. Let somebody else

worry about it. You gotta accept you

stopped living in that world, & try

and give yourself a break in this ..

BERLIN:

Just makes to so God damned mad ..

ROSS:

You're a f***ing great policeman, but

give yourself a break. You're here 5

minutes, you find yourself a f***ing

homicide? .. Not many people could do

that in a place like this .. And you

gotta admit, there's a lot of shaky

areas in this case? .. I mean, stop

me if I'm going up the wrong nostril ..

Waving his empty at the bar ROSS communicates need for another.

How d'you know this girl isn't lying

to you .. Not lying as such, but mak-

ing up stuff to keep you coming back?

BERLIN:

She wasn't lying about the van.

ROSS:

Alright, she wasn't lying about the

van. But it could have been any van?

Any little foreign diesel? .. She's

blind, Bro .. It's sad .. She's pro-

bably lonely, and you're a nice guy

to have around .. But you're getting

far too far into the element, Brother ..

BERLIN:

Sure.

ROSS:

You don't need me to tell you what hap-

pens when you get emotionally involved?

BERLIN:

Alright, enough, Ross. You'll

bring on my "Nervous Tick" ...

65:
INT. ADMINISTRATION. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

Very late and the only light comes from coloured bulbs pulsing

on a Christmas tree. Apparent BERLIN has had too much to drink.

Makes it to his desk and shuffles at the messages. One is just

about important enough to get a close-up. "TIME 18:52: SUBJECT:

A MAN CALLED DAN STANLEY TELEPHONED: SAYS THERE ARE 109 JOHNS

WITH VOLKSWAGEN VANS IN BAY AREA: WILL TELETYPE INFO THIS P.M."

66:
INT. CRIME LAB. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

BERLIN finishes typing something. Tears it out and seals it in

an envelope. Shirt sleeves and yawns. He slumps in the chair &

stares at "Jennifer 8." F*** this for a Friday night. He's had

enough of it. Grabs several envelopes and turns out the lights.

67:
INT. ADMIN/OFFICE. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

BERLIN emerges from one office and heads for another. J.K. Tay-

lor on the door. Delivers the envelope and an his way out when

something detains him. Lights on the tree strobe through venit-

ian blinds. Illuminate bits and pieces of rattan. Plus a board

covered in Christmas cards and a pair of steel filing cabinets.

Maybe motivated by the booze? But a desk drawer is open almost

before he realizes it and he searches for a key. Nothing but a

bunch of business cards and family snaps. Taylor with his Moth-

er Taylor with his Sister (red hair like him) and Taylor with

his Dog. The drawer slams and one underneath opens. Same flot-

sam of personal junk. Scotch Tape and paper clips and more bus-

iness cards. A bottle of tablets and salad of loose ammo. F***

all else and he closes the drawer. But what's this? A cane let-

ter rack at the rear of the desk where he finds a pair of keys.

Excitement lasts as long as it takes to try them. Don't fit ei-

ther lock. Now he's staring at the shadows with nothing moving

but thoughts. A few moments more and he's heading for the door.

68:
INT. OFFICE. POLICE STATION. NIGHT.

Massive close-up of the lock. A weird looking tool goes in and

another follows it. This bastard ain't easy even for an expert.

The frame widens to reveal BERLIN. He shuffles picks in a wall-

et on top of the cabinet. Was that a noise somewhere? He stops

to listen. wipes cold sweat away. Only thieves and foxes about.

A final twist and the lock delivers. Several dozen manilla col-

ored files from which to choose. A pair of folders titled Jenn-

ifer travel to the desk. The first is full of press-cuttings &

some gruesome looking snaps. Next file and this one looks more

interesting? A notebook full of random questions/answers/comm-

ents. A list of ships and sailing times. "MUST FOLLOW THIS UP"

Underlined twice. "CAN'T OVER ESTIMATE IMPORTANCE." Also under-

lined. Lists of numbers. Street numbers? Vehicle numbers? What-

ever they might be is history because the neon just flashed on.

TAYLOR stands in the doorway. The surprise is mutual. The play

one-sided. This is already TAYLOR's game. Smokes his cigarette.

BERLIN is up to elbows in the jam jar and up to him to explain.

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