Playback Page #27

Goble reaches a hand into his pocket, throws a card on the

desk. Magruder picks it up, reads it.

MAGRUDER:

Mr. Brandon couldn't be here. He

might have left something for you.

What would it look like?

GOBLE:

One of those nice long manila

envelopes--sealed. Not too fat-

not too thin.

MAGRUDER:

What do I get for it?

GOBLE:

You get it's brother.

MAGRUDER:

Sounds like a fair swap. Let's

take a look.

He jerks open the drawer of his desk. Gobble stiffens,

his hand on the gun. Magruder takes out a long sealed

envelope, throws it on the desk.

MAGRUDER:

I need a receipt. Sign your name

across the flap.

GOBLE:

Open it and count it.

MAGRUDER:

When you sign for it, you count

it. It's your dough.

He picks up a desk pen, holds it out. Goble hesitates,

then takes his right hand holding the gun out of his pocket,

lays the gun down on the desk beside the envelope. He

takes the pen, leans down to write. At that instant,

Magruder lunges up swiftly, grabs Goble's right wrist with

his left hand and jerks him forward hard. Goble tries to

reach the gun with his left hand. Magruder grabs an old-

fashioned round ebony ruler up off the desk and smacks

Goble's hard on the head with it twice. Goble sprawls

across the desk, limp. Magruder takes the gun, puts it in

his pocket, picks up the envelope, tears it open, and shakes

out the money, counts it.

MAGRUDER:

Eight hundred bucks. Ice cream

for dinner.

Magruder picks the gun up, balances it on his hand.

MOVE IN ON THE GUN

It is a .32 caliber revolver, with part of the barrel sawed

off to make it a belly gun. It has no front sight.

Magruder stares down at it. PULL AWAY as he turns, pulls

open desk drawer, puts gun in it, shuts drawer. He rounds

the desk, reaches inside Goble's pocket, pulls out a thick

manila envelope, stands looking down at it, speculating,

tries the flap to see if it will come loose.

MOVE IN TO SHOW THERE IS NO WRITING ON THE ENVELOPE

He picks up the envelope which contained money. It is

also manila and about the same size. With a quick decision,

Magruder tears open GOBLE'S ENVELOPE, draws out a sheaf of

blank paper. Magruder whistles lightly between his teeth,

turns his head to state at Goble who is still limp, sprawled

across the desk.

MAGRUDER:

(softly)

You had it coming, didn't you,

baby?

(reaches across,

shakes Goble's

shoulders)

Come on. You're not that sick.

Goble does not respond. Magruder pulls his head and

shoulder up on the desk. The head sags to one side.

Magruder presses a thumb against one of Goble's eyeballs.

No reaction. Magruder bends close, stares, and is suddenly

stiff with fear.

MAGRUDER:

(hoarsely)

Don't tell me you had a glass head,

baby. Oh no--not in your business.

How could you live so long?

He lets go of Goble who sways sideways in the chair, his

head hanging like that of a broken doll. As Magruder stares

down at him, with very much the sort of frozen horror as

we saw on Betty's face when she found Mitchell's body on

the balcony.

WIPE TO:

INT. VANCOUVER POLICE HEADQUARTERS - KILLAINE'S OFFICE --

DAY:

Small bare room, empty. Door opens. Sergeant Gore users

Margo in through a side door.

GORE:

Sit down, Mrs. West. Inspector

Killaine will be along in a minute.

MARGO:

Thank you.

Gore sits down in a hard wooden chair by Killaine's desk.

She is nervous, lights a cigarette, looks at her watch,

gets up suddenly as if to leave before Killaine gets back,

then shrugs and sits down again, Door opens and Killaine

enters, glances at Margo, goes behind his desk, sits down

with his hat on, presses dictagraph key.

KILLAINE:

(into dictagraph)

Killaine here. I want a radio

contact to work with Handley. A

motorcycle officer will do.

VOICE FROM DICTAGRAPH

Right away, Inspector.

Killaine disconnects, turns to face Margo, removing his

hat.

KILLAINE:

Remember that time, didn't I?

Good morning Mrs. West. Does your

visit here mean you've changed

your mind?

MARGO:

(startled)

How did you know?

(Killaine smiles

slightly, doesn't

answer)

Clarendon.

(Killaine still

doesn't answer)

You cops never tell anybody

anything, do you.

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