Klute Page #8

BREE:

Frank -- Klute.

FRANK:

(shakes hands)

Hi. Come in.

(leads them in, indicating

table)

I was just catching up some work --

mocking up the photographs.

(to Klute)

I used to be a photographer myself

- Bree tell you? -- Before I got in

the publishing.

BREE:

Frank, he knows you're a pimp. He

knows you were my pimp.

Short silence. Then with the tact of a gentleman

dealing with rude, difficult woman --

FRANK:

Well Bree, maybe you'd rather --

He gestures gently to indicate outside. She nods

once. He escorts her in that direction, OUT the

door, closing it behind them.

INT. HALLWAY OUTSIDE LIGOURIN'S APARTMENT - DAY

He escorts her to the elevator, pushes the down

button for her. In silence so far. Then, quietly --

as one who knows the other's thoughts --

FRANK:

How's it been?

She shrugs a shoulder at him, looks away. He goes

on in the same quiet voice.

FRANK (CONT'D)

With me Bree it's eternally the

same. Toward you. I guess you know

that.

BREE:

Yeah Frank, I know that.

She yanks at the elevator doors. But the elevator's

not here yet. She turns away sharply into the door

marked "Stairway". He turns back to his apartment.

INT. LIGOURIN'S APARTMENT - DAY

Frank reenters, with the calm smile of troop

chaplain.

FRANK:

I've always respected Bree.

(then)

I'd like to make something clear.

KLUTE:

I've just got a few --

FRANK:

I'd like to make something clear. I

don't go after a girl; a girl comes

to me. Her choice. Right?

He gestures Klute to one chair, sits in another,

waits calmly, attentively.

KLUTE:

I'm looking for a man. Tom

Grunemann.

(no response, whatever)

Bree thinks he may have been the

dumper -- that call she had two

years ago. She says you sent her on

it.

FRANK:

Two years ago? Sorry.

KLUTE:

They tell me you use narcotics.

Could I bring someone around to

look at your arms?

FRANK:

Look -- dad -- I may stand better

with the cops than you.

Klute waits.

FRANK (CONT'D)

OK, a family matter. Between the

girls. I had two other cows --

(corrects himself)

-- two other girls besides Bree.

KLUTE:

She told me.

FRANK:

OK and one of them Jane McKenna --

she blows a little jealous of Bree

- you know? -- Bree comes first?

And evidently she knew the freak ---

that he was a dumper -- she conned

me into passing him to Bree, you

know, so Bree'd get hurt. I didn't

know. Till afterwards.

KLUTE:

Why didn't you tell Bree,

afterwards?

FRANK:

(a little shocked)

You don't tell them. That one of

their own in-laws laid a dumper on

them?

(shakes head)

Peace in the family.

(pause)

Beyond that, I don't know. All she

wrote.

KLUTE:

I'd like to talk with Jane McKenna.

FRANK:

(smiles)

Would I be telling you all this?

She copped out long ago. She

committed suicide Baxter.

INT. APARTMENT HOUSE LOBBY: BREE - DAY

BREE sits, looks with curiosity at housewives her

age -- bringing their children in from the park, as

if trying to imagine what their lives could be

like. KLUTE emerges from elevator.

EXT. STREET (TWO SHOT) - DAY

BREE:

Did you like my friend Frankie?

KLUTE:

No.

BREE:

Didn't he tell you what you wanted?

KLUTE:

It didn't go anywhere.

(then)

But that's not why --

BREE:

About the dumper, didn't he tell

you that?

KLUTE:

It was Jane McKenna who sent you

the dumper.

BREE:

(coldly)

Well -- she's dead.

At the corner he slows, starts unzipping his

bookcase as if indicating a change of route.

BREE (CONT'D)

I thought you were going back to

the apartment.

KLUTE:

(he shakes his head)

You said you wanted these.

He hands over the TAPE-REELS.

BREE:

Oh golly, oh just what I've always

dreamed of, dirty phone calls.

(then)

How come?

KLUTE:

You told me what you could. I guess

I'm through with your part of it.

BREE:

(grudgingly)

Is there anything more I could --

KLUTE:

I don't see anything, do you?

BREE:

What're you gonna do next?

KLUTE:

Try some other ways.

(starts off)

BREE:

What do I do meanwhile? -- wait for

that clown to fall through the

skylight on me?

KLUTE:

And I don't think that was Tom.

BREE:

You said it was!

KLUTE:

No, I said what did you think.

BREE:

Oh -- wait -- oh I get it. You said

that just to keep me scared. So I'd

tell you everything I -- oh clever;

oh you smart, tricky hick.

KLUTE:

Well --

BREE:

(harshly)

Hey, but did we get to you, Klute?

A little?

KLUTE:

Yeah, you got to me.

BREE:

-- Us city folks? The sin, the

glitter, the wickedness?

KLUTE:

Oh. No. Not that way. I'd say it

was more -- I don't know --

(hunts the word)

-- too bad? Pathetic?

BREE:

Goodbye.

She turns smartly away, deposits the tapes in

passing in a litter box, departs. Klute looks after

her for a moment, then turns on his way. Then --

EXT. POV THROUGH LITTERBOX IN FOREGROUND TO POV OF

FIGURES OF KLUTE, BREE - DAY

This shot holds both in view for a moment, until

they both disappear separately in the traffic.

CAMERA moves in slightly on litterbox as a man's

hand comes into frame and removes the tapes.

INT. KLUTE'S APARTMENT: KLUTE - NIGHT

Klute, in pajama bottoms, lies in bed. A miserably

hot humid night. KNOCK at the door. He answers.

BREE stands in the doorway in bare feet.

BREE:

What the hell do you mean,

pathetic?

She walks in past him, sits down on the edge of his

bed.

KLUTE:

It's kind of late.

BREE:

It got lonely upstairs. There's

someone on the roof.

He takes her seriously, starts to move.

BREE (CONT'D)

Oh, don't be a doo-doo.

KLUTE:

Not much point to this, is there?

BREE:

(placidly)

Ezra, I'm lots better than you're

used to. Tell me -- the other

night, watching me with Mr. Faber --

wasn't your tongue a little bit

hanging out?

KLUTE:

Mm.

BREE:

So you're not too different from

him, or the chap on the roof, or

Tommy-baby --

He starts for the bed, as if to lift her onto her

feet. She takes off her robe and swings her legs

up, and under the sheet.

BREE (CONT'D)

Look, if you don't use it somebody

else just will. And you've done

your whole bit with me, your entire

duty, and so now this is my thing.

So enjoy, Mr. Faber would say,

enjoy.

Under the sheet she unlooses her pajama bottoms,

kicks them away, starts unbuttoning the shirt.

KLUTE:

Bree -- thanks -- I don't want to.

BREE:

Oh don't be all hypocrite. Or do

you really like other kicks? Is it

more just having power over

someone? -- so you don't really

need to --

He tries to rebutton the pajama shirt. She catches

his hand, thrusts it underneath. In grief and anger

--

BREE (CONT'D)

Who the hell are you, buttoning me

up?

QUICK:

DISSOLVE --

UPSHOT, C.U.

Their bodies lock together descending toward camera

--

DISSOLVE --

DOWNSHOT, C.U. SAME ACTION

Her hands slide about his shoulders. She is

laughing softly, affectionately, mockingly --

BREE:

I knew it, I knew it, a killer.

DISSOLVE --

C.U., HER FACE

-- triumphantly, contemptuously, orgiastically --

BREE:

Oh lover -- oh you thrill me -- oh,

it's beautiful -- oh yes, yes -- oh

like that, like that, yes --

DISSOLVE --

FACES:

Klute gasps deeply -- entering orgasm. As soon as

she hears it, judges it, she drops her hands from

his shoulders, stills her own movements, lies

utterly passive, smiling calmly, letting him finish

for himself. He can't stop -- cries out -- cries

out again, burying his face against her -- is done.

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