Lost Souls Page #4

SALLY:

Are you saying he's legally sane?

PETER:

Well, George Viznick is in the grayest

of gray areas in the sanity spectrum.

Viznick is not psychotic.

He's simply unable to submit to any

higher authority.

SALLY:

Meaning, Viznick's a man who answers to

no one. Not even God.

PETER:

(steps ahead of her)

Right. If you believe in God. As a

narcissist, Viznick couldn't blame

himself for the alleged murders. He

created the voices after the fact. In

order to avoid the simple truth that

there is no outside force that guides

George Viznick and that George Viznick

needs to pay.

SALLY:

(personally interested)

And what about you? What about Peter

Kelson? Where is your moral compass?

Peter is momentarily serious, interior, then the brief slight

smile.

PETER:

Well, lucky for me, I'm not on trial,

Sally. However, I like to think I'm the

actual needle on the compass. Morality

is which way you're facing. The needle

always points north.

Sally smiles, a sucker for that sort of crap.

INT. CONTROL BOOTH - CONTINUOUS

The TECHNICAL DIRECTOR leans over to a CAMERAMAN.

TECH DIRECTOR:

Sally's hot for this guy.

A tall attractive female P.A. overhears.

P.A.

He's cute.

INT. TELEVISION STUDIO

SALLY:

(more taken with him than she

thought)

Peter...Kelson, ah, thank you for

joining us.

PETER:

A pleasure, Sally.

TECH DIRECTOR (O.S.)

And that's a cut.

Sally leans forward to Peter and proffers a copy of his book.

SALLY:

Would you sign it for me?

PETER:

(flashes a killer smile)

Of course.

EXT. SAINT BENEDICTUS/MANHATTAN - AFTERNOON

A Range Rover double parks in front of an immense Catholic

Church. Peter gets out.

Across the street, a group of Orthodox Jews walk by. On the

steps of the church is an exotic woman, stylish in a yellow

Prada dress with a matching yellow nylon zip jacket. CLAIRE

VAN OWEN hugs the collar to her neck against a sudden winter

guest. She's a magazine stylist and Peter's girlfriend. As

Peter meets Claire on the street, he grabs hold of her,

relaxed. He kisses her deeply. Claire still reacts, though

it's been a year.

CLAIRE:

(obviously in love)

I missed you.

PETER:

(seeing it)

Do you think they have a room here?

She smiles at the possibility.

CLAIRE:

How'd your interview go? I'm sure you

charmed the hell out of Sally.

PETER:

She's a talk show host. They can't be

charmed. By definition.

Claire slides an arm through Peter's. Then, she reaches up,

suddenly kissing him hard on the mouth.

INT. SAINT BENEDICTUS - AFTERNOON

Peter and Claire walk down the center aisle, dwarfed by the

vast vaulted ceiling and rosette stations of the cross. At

the Travertine and Terrazzo altar, there's a solemn

atmosphere. Choir practice is just about to end and the

SINGERS are CHANTING A-CAPELLA in Latin.

Standing before them, keeping time and tone, is FATHER JAMES

MCKENZIE, a good-natured priest in his late fifties. He sees

Peter and Claire and lets the choir practice wind down.

Singers begin to collect their music as Father James moves

toward his visitors, happy to see them, as always. He gives

Peter a strong hug.

FATHER JAMES:

How're you doing?

(to Claire)

Looking lovely as always.

PETER:

You ready?

James turns to the choir.

FATHER JAMES:

Alright, you shrieking harpies, enough

of that racket. Be off with you.

The choir makes their way out in several directions, shaking

their heads at Father James' corny humor.

FATHER JAMES (CONT'D)

And if you have to sin tonight, try to

make it something original.

A GROAN from the group at the bad pun. Claire and Peter

smile.

CUT TO:

INT. VESTRY/SAINT BENEDICTUS - AFTERNOON

Father James carefully and ritualistically removes his

vestments.

INT. RANGE ROVER - AFTERNOON

Peter is driving up the West Side Highway, relaxed, an arm

out the window. Claire is beside him.

James sits in the back, peaceful, meditative, as the trees

lining the road move by in a sort of blurred landscape.

FATHER JAMES:

Between your book sales and this TV

thing, there's going to be no living

with you. And let me guess, you boiled

God down to a conceit.

PETER:

You know how I feel. The world is

random. The only certainty I believe in

is death.

FATHER JAMES:

Given all that's happened, I understand.

The world is random, but then there's

faith. Where are you in death without

it?

EXT. STREET - CONTINUOUS

Suddenly a car cuts Peter off. Peter slams on his breaks.

Close call. Claire's purse falls off her lap. Lipstick

spills out. She steadies herself against the dash with a

hand. James is pressed forward into his seat belt.

FATHER JAMES:

What a...jerk!

CLAIRE:

Peter, are you okay?

PETER:

Fine.

Peter resumes driving, mildly irritated.

CLAIRE:

(getting back to the

conversation)

It's great of you to let William and

Susan stay at the house until he gets on

his feet.

PETER:

(cutting across the

earnestness)

It's Susan's cooking, Claire. That's

why Uncle James lets them stay.

FATHER JAMES:

Nonsense, it's all of our home.

(to Claire)

So how's work treating you?

CLAIRE:

Frustrating. Form over content.

Everything's so retro.

FATHER JAMES:

Well, if Peter here would hop off his

laurels long enough to marry you...

At the wheel, Peter gazes straight out at the road. No

expression. But he cringes inwardly.

CLAIRE:

(interrupting for Peter's sake)

...you wearing a watch, Father?

FATHER JAMES:

Yes. It's exactly...

he slides back his sleeve as Clair looks at her watch.

CLAIRE:

Can you check the century hand for me?

Mine seems to be ahead.

James LAUGHS. Peter shakes his head. The notion of

commitment more private to him that to his more expansive

uncle. Claire inadvertently glances at Peter, then she looks

out her window, an awkward, inward moment.

INT. MAYA'S ROOM - SEMINARY - AFTERNOON

Maya's TV is on, as usual. She SNAPS open a bag of edamame

soy nuts, popping them into her mouth, while a lit cigarette

sits in the glass ashtray next to her. She eats and smokes

alternately. Feet up, socks on. Maya's flipping through the

Manhattan white pages, looking for the last time, Kelson.

INT. TELEVISION SCREEN - AFTERNOON

Caption has been flashed onscreen:

PETER KELSON, AUTHOR OF VICIOUS INTENT.

Sally Price is interviewing Peter Kelson.

INT. MAYA'S ROOM - CONTINUOUS

Maya glances up and she can't believe what she reads. Takes

her a moment to pull it all in:

MAYA:

Oh my God!

INTERCUT WITH TV SCREEN AS NECESSARY.

PETER:

...as a narcissist, he couldn't blame

himself. He created the voices after

the fact.

Maya shoves a pen between her teeth, while she tears off a

sheet of paper. She immediately scribbles the name of the

book on the torn piece of paper.

As Maya looks back up at the TV, a dart of interest.

INT. BOOKSTORE - AFTERNOON

A table showcasing the current best-sellers prominently

features Peter's book, VICIOUS INTENT.

Maya reaches in and picks up a copy. Immediately flips to

the jacket flyleaf at the back. Reads a moment and as she

dos we see the bio: "born in Bedford, NY, a crime writer

whose own parents were murdered..."

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