L.A. Confidential Page #10

INT. HOLLYWOOD STATION - NARCO PEN - DAY

Jack Vincennes is at his desk. Holding the Fleur-de-Lis

card, magazines spread before him, Jack dials the number.

INT. HUSH-HUSH MAGAZINE OFFICE - DAY

Sid Hudgeons sits behind his desk, answers the phone.

HUDGEONS:

Hush-Hush. Off the record and on

the Q.T.

JACK (V.O.)

Sid, it's Vincennes.

HUDGEONS:

Jackie, are you back on Narco? I

need copy.

INTERCUT WITH Jack at his desk:

JACK:

No. But I've got something going

with Ad Vice.

HUDGEONS:

Something good?

JACK:

Don't know. I'm chasing picture

books. F*** shots, but the posers

don't look like junkies. It's

well done stuff. I thought you

might have heard something.

Hudgeons reaches into a stack of papers, pulls out a

magazine like the one Jack has.

HUDGEONS:

Not a word.

JACK:

What about Fleur-de-Lis? Their

slogan's 'Whatever you desire.'

HUDGEONS:

No. No, I've heard bupkis. Jack,

I'll talk to you later. Call me

when you get something I can use.

Smut's from hunger. For sad sacks

who can't get their ashes hauled

The LINE CLICKS off. Jack hesitates a moment before

cradling the receiver. Something's not right here.

EXT. HOLYWOOD STATION - PARKING LOT - TWILIGHT

As Exley pulls in, his two-way drones:

DISPATCHER (V.O.)

Park Rangers report three Negro

youths discharging shotguns into

the air in Griffith Park.

Suspects are driving a late model

purple Mercury Coupe.

As the report ends, Exley switches off the two-way and

gets out of his car.

INT. HOLLYWOOD STATION - SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT

Accompanied by Bud, Dick Stensland crams the contents of

his desk into a box. Well-wishing cops pat him on the

back, offer words of encouragement, but Stensland looks

like he's going to cry.

It's very bad timing as Exley enters, comes face-to-face

with them. This is hatred.

Acting on impulse, Bud goes after Exley. It's a mauling.

Four vicious body shots. A potentially lethal head shot

sails wide as Exley falls to the ground.

As four men move to hold Bud back, Exley looks up at him.

EXLEY:

(gasping)

You're just a thug, White. That's

all you'll ever be.

Dudley steps into the fray. He helps Exley to his feet.

DUDLEY:

You should stay away from a man

when his blood is up.

EXLEY:

His blood's always up.

Four cops are genuinely having trouble holding Bud back.

Dudley watches with something bordering on admiration.

DUDLEY:

Then maybe you should stay away

from him all the time.

EXT. HOLLYWOOD STATION - PARKING LOT - NIGHT

Accompanied by Bud, Stensland reaches his car, loads his

box of stuff into the trunk. Bud is moody, pensive.

STENSLAND:

Don't look so down in the mouth,

Bud. You nailed him good.

BUD:

Yeah, sure... I got a couple of

hours before I have to be at the

Victory. Want to grab a beer?

STENSLAND:

Rain check me, partner. I got

something big going on tonight.

BUD:

What? That new mystery girl

you've been seeing?

STENSLAND:

No. I'll tell you sometime. Not

now. Don't want to jinx it. But

it could take the edge off that

jail time I got coming.

BUD:

What are you talking about?

STENSLAND:

It's confidential, Bud. Like that

magazines Vincennes scams for.

Hush-Hush.

(smiles)

I'll see you tomorrow. And hey,

if it works out, you'll get a

piece of it.

Stensland gets in the car, drives off. Bud is left

alone.

INT. HOLLYWOOD STATION - SQUAD ROOM - NIGHT

Exley sits alone in a sea of desks. The SQUAWK BOX

DRONES. Exley squints at the clock on the wall, can't

make it out. He takes his glasses from the inside of his

jacket. 2:
00 A.M. Finally, something to do. He walks

to the wall calendar, tears off Feb. 28 to reveal Mar. 1.

As Exley sits, the call SQUAWK BOX booms to life.

VOICE:

Squad call! Nite Owl Coffee Shop

One-eight-one-two-four Cherokee!

Multiple homicides! Multiple

homicides! Code three!

EXT. HOLLYWOOD AND CHEROKEE - NIGHT

Patrol cars. Blues setting up a crime scene blockade.

Exley pulls up, DOUSES his SIREN. PATROLMAN #1 runs

over.

PATROLMAN #1

Loads of people down. Men.

Women. I stopped for coffee --

Exley pushes him aside, heads for the door. It's wide

open.

INT. NITE OWL - NIGHT

Exley takes mental snapshots. Ten stools front a

counter. The side wall mural-papered: winking owls

perched on street signs. On the right a string of

tables. Three in disarray. Food spilled, dishes broken.

A high-heel pump by an upended chair.

Heel drag marks across the linoleum floor heading back

toward the kitchen. Exley follows. Past an open, empty

cash register. Outside -- SIRENS.

SERVICE RUNWAY:

Crisscrossed drag marks connect, lead to a walk-in...

FOOD LOCKER:

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