Playback Page #26

BETTY:

We wouldn't have met at all.

KILLAINE:

True. I was a bit irritable last

night. I apologize.

BETTY:

You were a galahad, compared to

some cops I've known.

KILLAINE:

(pouncing--but very

quietly)

You've had dealings with the police

before?

BETTY:

Who hasn't--one way or another?

KILLAINE:

But not in the investigation of a

major crime, I hope.

BETTY:

Is it a crime?

KILLAINE:

We're 98 per cent certain Mitchell

was murdered. There are a lot of

reasons.

(pause)

Was he very drunk when you last

saw him?

BETTY:

You were there when I last saw

him.

KILLAINE:

I'd like to believe that. It's not

too easy.

Betty says nothing. Killaine looks away again.

KILLAINE:

I've been talking to the Immigration

Inspector who passed you across

the border. He was a little

suspicious of you. Mayfield isn't

really your name, is it?

Betty looks straight ahead, doesn't answer.

KILLAINE:

I'll find out, you know. Perhaps

not today--perhaps not tomorrow.

But in the end, I'll find out.

BETTY:

The police always do, don't they?

KILLAINE:

You've has an experience that you

don't want to talk about. An unhappy

marriage, for example.

Betty turns away quickly.

KILLAINE:

I wouldn't make you talk about it.

My job is the death of Marry

Mitchell. Why can't you give me

your confidence?

BETTY:

You--or the Vancouver Police

Department?

KILLAINE:

We try to be decent.

BETTY:

You're a police officer. A very

nice one--but you have a job to

do. I'm a girl who's in a jam, and

it's your job to keep me there.

Don't go considerate on me. I might

start to bawl.

Their eyes meet in a long look.

KILLAINE:

You won't tell me who you are?

You won't even give me a chance to

help you?

BETTY:

Nobody can help me. You, least of

all.

KILLAINE:

(suddenly)

If I understand what you meant by

that.

BETTY:

You understand perfectly.

KILLAINE:

Then there isn't much I can do, is

there?

BETTY:

There isn't anything you can do.

He moves towards her, then turns abruptly and goes.

WIPE TO:

INT. CHARLIE'S PLACE -- DAY

Chairs are piled up on the tables. A MAN with a mop is

going over the floor. STEPS ARE HEARD. Goble, the private

eye comes into the SHOT slowly. His eyes are very wary. He

has a hand in his pocket.

GOBLE:

I came here to see Mr. Brandon.

MAN WITH MOP:

Who?

GOBLE:

Brandon. I was to meet him here.

MAN WITH MOP:

Okay. Ask the boss.

He jerks his thumb backwards, and Goble moves off in that

direction.

INT. CHARLIE'S PLACE - DOOR OPENING/SMALL DARK HALL -- DAY

CAMERA FOLLOWS GOBLE

Though open door. He stands a moment, looking along the

hallway, listening. There is no sound at all. He reaches a

door CAMERA PANS AROUND to show small plate on the door

with the word MANAGER. Goble listens again, takes the gun

out of his pocket, looks at it, puts it back, keeping his

hand on it, opens the door, and stars in.

INT. CHARLIE'S PLACE - MANAGER'S OFFICE -- DAY

It is what you would expect. Magruder is at a desk, doing

some bookkeeping work. He looks up indifferently as Goble

ENTERS.

GOBLE:

I'm looking for Mr. Brandon.

MAGRUDER:

The joint's not open, Mac. Who's

Brandon?

Goble comes up to the desk.

GOBLE:

I have an appointment with him,

right here, right now.

MAGRUDER:

Go live in a tent.

GOBLE:

It'll be a tough dollar when guys

like you learn the alphabet.

MAGRUDER:

(grinning)

Talk English. How do I know you're

you?

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