Jennifer 8 Page #34

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BERLIN looks grey as sick. Knows what's coming. And here it is.

The flashlight you saw, was his. The

"footsteps" you heard, were his. The

elevator you were chasing up and down

after was empty, and is prone to such

activity, due to an electrical fault ..

Apparently it happens frequently dur-

ing gales. The gale that was swinging

the door. That knocked you down. That

confused you so much? And here we are,

back to where I'm sitting. You wanna

tell me what really went on that night?

It seems St ANNE has effectively destroyed the "Serial Killer"

scenario. Stubs his cigarette and waits for BERLIN's response.

BERLIN:

Two people know I didn't kill

him, Mr St Anne. One's me, and

the other's the man that did.

St ANNE

What man?

St ANNE is winning. And they both know it. And he almost grins.

We just dealt with "the man?"

BERLIN:

How d'you know the Jan-

itor didn't shoot him?

If St ANNE can raise an eyebrow he does. By implication BERLIN is

ditching his "Killer." During this St ANNE rewinds his Sony.

You're telling me it's his

flashlight I saw, O.K., he

sees my flashlight? And I'm

coming up the stairs with a

Beretta in my hand. And he's

frightened. He hits the door

on me. Picks up my gun. He's

running. He runs into Ross,

and in panic, he shoots him.

The little Sony snaps to a stop and St ANNE looks at his watch.

St ANNE

Not unless he had a gun in one

hand, and a phone in the other,

he didn't. Ross was shot at ex-

actly two fifty-seven a.m. The

janitor put a call through to

the local police, at 2:57 a.m.

You obviously realize how I can

get so accurate with my timing?

St ANNE backs off and carefully replaces the Sony on the table.

Ross switched into channel 8, &

we got a recording of the whole

incident. I was gonna play it to

you, but I got a meeting, we'll

have to do it after lunch. It's

one, let's make it back by three?

137:
INT. BEDROOM. BERLIN'S HOUSE. DAY.

HELENA is curled up under blankets. Maybe day-dreaming but not

asleep. She's maybe here to keep warm as much as anything else.

Sound of a vehicle approaching and she sits to listen. The car

pulls up and its engine silences. HELENA is already out of bed.

138:
INT. LIVING ROOM/PORCH/FRONT YARD. HOUSE. DAY.

Silhouette of a figure outside the front door. Someone rattles

the handle but it's locked. And by the time HELENA reaches the

door the visitor has gone. Thinking it's Berlin she twists the

key and steps onto the porch. A stale winter fog settling down.

Hardly a sound except her own voice. "John? Is that you?" Just

the rattle of local Crows and a Bull heaving somewhere in some

distant field. "John?" She cautiously descends wood stairs and

walks two or three paces before bumping into a brown Chevrolet.

Exploration of the car establishes nil. More confused than con-

cerned she listens. Country sound and not a sound out of place

Then suddenly she is alert. Something clatters somewhere. Like

cans kicked in the garage? Was it the garage? "John, is it you?"

139:
INT. KITCHEN/LIVING ROOM/BEDROOM. HOUSE. DAY.

HELENA locks the front door. Moves into the kitchen. Locks the

back door. Glum silence in the house. Nothing but an old alarm

clock ticking. Then a sound like something moving. Like a door

creaking open? Was it in the garage? The living room? Upstairs?

She returns to the living room. Curtains drawn and almost dark.

The endless silence is interrupted by a rush of water in pipes.

If anybody's here they're upstairs? HELENA moves to the bottom

of them "John, are you up there? It's me, darling. I got a cab."

The only reply is more silence. She begins to climb the stairs.

One hand on the wall. She ascends slowly. Her helplessness giv-

ing way to suspicion with each new step. At the top she pushes

into the bedroom "John, are you here? Darling? Are you alright?"

Apparently no one is here. Certainly no one in the bed. And no

one in the bathroom. She reappears with an expression suppress-

ing anxiety. Feels her way past an antique wardrobe. Curiously

its door is open. A full length mirror inside. Shuts it as she

passes and for a split-instant the Man in the room is revealed.

Almost simultaneously fingers in black leather clasp her wrist.

HELENA in speechless with shock. Both she and the INTRUDER are

breathing hard. The only other sound is the wardrobe door whin-

ing open again under its weight. Manifests a reflection of his

back. Totally in black. Black wool hat. Leather jacket. Gloves.

INTRUDER:

Got really fucken lucky, didn't ya?

He backs her to the bed and sits her before releasing his grip.

The frame remains static and staring into the mirror and still

on the INTRUDER's back. HELENA stares unseeing at her own face.

I was getting kinda concerned about

you Jenny. Like, how blind are you?

Blind as your friend? Or less blind?

Coz she could see, you know. Had a

view outta one of em. But you don't

see nothing do you? Nothing at all?

He reaches into his jeans and produces a stainless steel knife.

Even closed this thing is 10 inches long. A leather loop attat-

ched at one and. He teases the metal in front of HELENA's eyes.

Can you see this, blind girl?

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