Love in the Afternoon Page #8

paid in dollars.

Dollars, traveler's checks, I don't

care. Get me the lowdown on her.

Leave it to me.

Tell me everything you know about her.

I know nothing,

except that her name isn't Adolph.

Not Adolph. Well, that narrows

it down considerably.

Where did you meet her?

In my suite at the Ritz.

- You invited her?

- No.

You mean she just walked

through the door?

No, through the balcony.

Isn't that rather peculiar?

Not for her.

She's a very peculiar girl.

- What does she look like?

- Well, she's sort of...

Say no more, Monsieur.

I know your type.

Very voluptuous,

always 3 or 4 pounds overweight.

No, not this one. She's on the

lean side, a mere wisp of a girl.

- Not my type at all.

- She must have something.

Definitely. She's got an uncanny

talent for getting under my skin.

I don't know where she comes from,

or where she goes.

- I suspect, but I'm not sure.

- You suspect what?

It seems there are other men,

quite a few of them.

As a matter of fact,

quite a lot of them.

Then again, she may be pulling

my leg, then again, she may not.

- How about that aspirin?

- Of course. There's no extra charge.

- Headache, Papa?

- No, I feel fine. It's the client.

Hit- and- run lover.

Got run over himself!

To look at her

you'd think she was a student.

- How many?

- Nineteen.

Nineteen aspirins?

Two aspirins. Nineteen men!

- Cut it out. I've heard enough

of that! - I'm sorry.

From a redheaded algebra teacher

to a Dutch alcoholic.

And in between, there was a riding

instructor and an Alpine guide.

Alpine guide? Just a minute.

I had a case like this.

She met him on the Matterhorn.

Dimples behind his ears

and Edelweiss on his knees.

Or the other way around.

Alpine guide, here we are.

She's an English duchess, age 45.

No! She's no 45.

She's no duchess,

but she was mixed up with a duke.

After that there was

an export-import guy.

Export- import? Wait, wait.

That sounds familiar.

Exports perfume and imports bananas.

Wrong. This one deals

in mustard exclusively.

There was a Canadian ice-hockey

player and a banker from Brussels.

Brussels? Banker?

You know, I have a feeling

I've run across this girl before.

I wouldn't be surprised.

Then there was a bullfighter.

Bullfighter?

He got gored.

You know, this is maddening.

I couldn't get to

first base with her.

It's like a hurricane swept through

my papers and jumbled everything up!

Like somebody broke into my files.

She's coming to see me this afternoon.

She'll leave around 6:00.

Suppose you follow her. So long.

Tell me, Mr. Flannagan,

when you said her name isn't Adolph...

All I know, is it begins with an "A."

"A"?

It's not Anna, or Agnes,

or Agatha...

That tune...

It's not from an opera, is it?

It's an old Viennese schmaltz

called Fascination.

- My gypsies play it all the time.

- Of course.

The name starts with an "A"?

It must be an odd name.

Everything about her is odd.

One day she wore one of those

things around her leg.

- An anklet?

- That's right.

Another time, in a fur coat,

in the middle of summer.

Ermine?

How did you guess it?

Some guy gave it to her, but she'd

never take anything from me.

- Nothing?

- Nothing at all.

Not even a flower?

Yeah, I did give her a flower once.

A white carnation.

Say, you are good.

Not really, Monsieur. Sometimes,

in my profession, you get lucky.

- Goodbye, Monsieur.

- Goodbye, Mr. Chavasse.

One more question, Monsieur.

Are you interested

in this young lady?

Sure I'm interested.

Why do you think I came up here?

What I meant was,

are you in love with her?

Love? I said I was interested.

I have many interests.

Sorry, Monsieur. Just asking.

Okay, don't forget, 6:00.

I may have the solution much earlier.

- Client with the headache gone?

- The client is gone, but not the headache.

Looks like somebody's been carrying

on with half the alphabet.

Sometimes I think I made

a mistake letting you grow up...

...in these surroundings.

I should have sent you away to

boarding school after your mama died.

What's the matter?

Just because I wash my hair so often?

I had no right to expose you to all

this dirt I bring into the house.

Fly-by-night affairs and counterfeit

love and disillusionment and heartbreak.

I would have been heartbroken

if you had sent me away.

I guess I've been a very poor father.

That's a very poor guess.

You've been a wonderful father.

Well, I'll try to do better

from now on.

I love you very much, Papa.

And I love you more.

Now you go to your room.

I want to wind up this case.

Come in.

Good afternoon, Mr. Flannagan.

Good afternoon. Any news?

How are we doing?

We're doing fine, Monsieur.

I have the complete report.

You do? Well, let's have it.

- Is that her file?

- No, that's yours.

- This is hers. - Just one

page, you call that complete?

It's right up to the minute,

Monsieur. Completely complete.

- Her name is Ariane.

- Ariane?

I'd have never guessed that

in a million years.

She's a student at the

music conservatory.

Student?

Plays the cello.

The cello? I knew a dame

that played the sax ophone.

Yes, you did. Atlantic City, 1947.

But to get back to this case,

the young lady lives on the Left Bank.

- Alone?

- No, Monsieur.

- With a man?

- Yes, Monsieur.

Her father.

Her father? Are you sure?

- Positive. As for the other men

in her life... - How many?

Just one, Monsieur...

...you.

Me?

That's right. I know everything about

her from the day she was born.

She's never even been in love before.

Oh, come now.

You see, Monsieur, she's not

what you'd call a "dame."

Why, the little liar,

playing games with me.

Made me so mad I was almost ready

to pack up and leave Paris.

Maybe that would have been

a good idea, Monsieur.

Canadian ice- hockey player...

...AIpine guide, dimples.

What an imagination.

Yes, she is very imaginative,

Monsieur.

- Why do you suppose she did it?

- Why?

I suppose she was trying to put

herself in the same class with you...

...but that, of course,

is impossible.

I think I'll skip the Riviera this summer

and stick around here a little longer.

She's too much fun.

You've had your fun, Monsieur.

You'd better leave before it's too late.

Too late for what?

Your record shows that whenever

a girl gets serious, you run.

Well, she's very serious,

so you'd better start running.

It's a little different this time.

How little? Instead of the usual

two weeks, it will last four weeks...

- ...or six weeks? - I don't see

that it's any of your business.

Come in!

She will be here pretty soon,

Monsieur. You have to decide.

I hired you to give me information,

not advice!

How much do I owe you?

Will $100 do it?

- How about $200?

- There will be no charge.

- Why not?

- Because she's my daughter.

Give her a chance, Monsieur.

She's so helpless.

Such a little fish.

Throw her back in the water.

Mr. Flannagan?

Hello there.

You'd think I would've learned how to

pack by now, with all the traveling I do.

Rate this script:5.0 / 1 vote