Miller's Crossing Page #26

Tom

Yeah. Okay. . . Tell him no hard feelings.

First Man

Christ, Tom, he knows that.

With a jerk of the head the first man signals the other two

and the trio turns to leave.

First Man

. . . Take care now.

70. CUT TO:

DOORWAY:
NIGHT

We are looking over Tom's shoulder as he waits in the rain

in front of a large oak doorway with wrought-iron fretwork.

At the cut we hear chimes dying, and the door swings open.

There is a grand foyer with a parquet floor, unsittable

furniture and a large chandelier. A liveried butler looks

inquiringly out at Tom.

Tom

Tom Duchaisne.

Butler

Yes sir . . .

He steps back.

. . . Mr. Caspar is in the great room.

Tom is handing the butler his hat.

Tom

Swell. Can you take this?

INT FOYER:

As Tom starts to shrug out of his coat, Caspar is crossing

towards him.

Caspar

Kid, what's the rumpus?

Caspar seems as unhappy as last time we saw him.

Tom

I got news.

Caspar

Yeah, news at this end too. My stomach's been

seazin' up on me.

Tom

Mink just told me that he--

This has woken Caspar up:

Caspar

You talked to Mink?!

Tom

Yeah, on the phone. Bluepoint wants you to think

he's dissappeared, so you can't talk to him, but

he's been right here in town.

Caspar

You're sure it was Mink?

Tom shrugs.

Tom

See for yourself; he's coming to my place, four

o'clock this morning.

Having handed the butler his coat and hat, Tom lets Caspar

lead him towards a pair of double doors.

. . . He's afraid of a cross from Bluepoint. He

told me about the fix. Says he'll sing for a

couple grand skip money, tell us everyone

involved. . .

71. Caspar opens one of the double doors, and we continue

tracking behind the two men as they enter the trophy room.

The room has the low warm light of a men's club. Outside

the dark windows the rain sheets down.

Caspar sits in behind his desk and swivels away to poke

morosely with a fire shovel at the blaze in the fireplace.

In the foreground, back to us, Tom rests his knuckles an

the desk to lean towards Caspar.

. . . But you better take care of Bluepoint right

away. Mink says if he comes after us its going

to be tonight.

As he looks into the fire:

Caspar

Leo's holed up at Whiskey Nick's dump.

Tom is momentarily taken aback.

Tom

. . . How d'you know?

A chuckle comes from behind

REVERSE:

On Tom. In the background, Bluepoint is walking over to

the door to the room to close it.

Bluepoint

That ain't all we know, smart guy.

He points with a nod towards the couch.

. . . Recognize your playmate?

On the couch sits Drop Johnson. Drop's face looks worked

on, and is beaded over with sweat.

Having shut the door, Bluepoint is sauntering over to Tom.

. . . Yeah. You thought I'd quit.

He shakes his head.

Huh-uh. I followed you this afternoon. And I

wondered why Einstein would want to talk to a

gorilla. . .

He is nose to nose with Tom, smiling at him.

. . . So I grabbed the gorilla. . . And I beat it

out of him.

He shrugs.

. . . Give me a big guy, every time. They crack

easy. Not like you.

Tom holds Bluepoint's look.

Tom

Is there a point? Or are you just brushing up on

your small talk?

Bluepoint

I like that. Cool under fire. I'm impressed.

Very quickly he delivers two slaps--forehand and backhand.

Tom's head rocks but he recovers to stare back at Blue-

point.

. . . The gorilla didn't know whose stiff we

found, but I can fill that in. You killed Mink,

you sonofabitch.

He grabs Tom by the lapels, swings him away from the desk,

and lands a punch on his chin.

Tom stumbles backs.

Caspar has turned from the fireplace, watching the doings

across the room.

Bluepoint moves towards Tom, breathing hard with antici-

pated pleasure.

. . . Come here, bum. I'm gonna send you to a

deep dark place. And I'm gonna have fun doing

it.

Bluepoint's hand snakes out and grabs Tom by the front of

the coat, hauling him close. He slaps him savagely.

. . . It was Mink, and by God I'll hear you say

it!

Tom

Is this how you taught Drop his story?

In one motion Bluepoint's hands wrap around Tom's throat

choking him off. As the pressure increases, Tom, purpling,

sinks to his knees.

Bluepoint

I like the way you think. Maybe when you're dead

I'll cut your head off, put it on my mantle--

WHANG--a shovel blade swings into frame to smash Bluepoint

in the face.

He drops.

From somewhere in the room, a scream.

Bluepoint is on his hands and knees, one hand pressed over

his ruined face, blood pouring from between the fingers.

Caspar

Sonafabitch. . .

He stands over Bluepoint with the fireplace shovel.

. . . If there's one thing I can't stand, it's a

double-cross artist. I had a feeling 'bout this

sonofabitch--

He swings the shovel back and delivers an overhand blow to

the top of Bluepoint's head.

Bluepoint drops to the floor, instantly motionless.

The scream, however, continues.

Drop Johnson, on the couch, his eyes wide, his hands

spastically squeezing his knees, is looking down at

Bluepoint. Drop's mouth is stretched wide. He is scream-

ing.

Tom gets slowly to his feet.

Cascar looks at Drop.

. . . Shut it, you sonofabitch!

He is striding over to him with the shovel.

. . . I'll give you something to holler about!

Tom intercepts him.

Tom

Johnny. It's okay. Bluepoint made him. It's

okay. It's not important.

Caspar is panting.

Caspar

Then have him shut it!

Drop does.

Rate this script:5.0 / 2 votes