Playback Page #34

He moves the mirror back until his face is seen in it.

There is a bitter smile on his mouth.

KILLAINE:

Kid Galahad. The Knight of the

White Plume. Jess Holmes, the

fool killer. Boy, you look

wonderful in a tank--with the turret

closed.

During the speech, a door is OPENED off. Killaine looks

up. Driscoll is standing inside the room.

We are now

PULLED BACK INTO A WIDER SHOT

DRISCOLL:

Got a moment, Inspector?

KILLAINE:

I've got a year. Or a second.

I'm not sure which.

DRISCOLL:

You told me when we'd identified

this fellow--

Killaine nods.

DRISCOLL:

We've done that. He's a San

Francisco private eye. Name Martin

J. Goble, G-O-B-L-E. Had initials

in his hat and for once he lived

where he bought it. Goble and

Greer is the firm name.

KILLAINE:

(still a bit nasty)

Swimming with his hat on? That's

original.

DRISCOLL:

If you'd seen the blood on his

head--and some body had to carry

him out to sea--

KILLAINE:

I understand. Pity to mess up a

nice clean boat.

DRISCOLL:

(registering

controlled anger

at Killaine's manner)

I got through to Greer, his partner

in the detective business. Greer

won't give out.

KILLAINE:

(leaning back in

his chair, half-

closing his eyes)

I'd suggest a telegram. Something

like this:
Chief of Police, San

Francisco. A licensed private

detective named named Martin J.

Goble, address so-and-so, has been

found murdered within our

jurisdiction. His partner, name

something-something Greer, refuses

to give us any information.

Correction. Refuses information

necessary to our investigation.

Can you assist? Signed Detective

Sergeant Driscoll, Vancouver,

British Columbia, Police.

(Killaine opens his

eyes, looks at

Driscoll)

DRISCOLL:

Send that?

KILLAINE:

(indifferently)

Would you?

DRISCOLL:

(after a pause)

If you're asking my opinion, no.

I'd read it to Greer over the phone.

Ask him if he had any objections.

Killaine stands up, glances at his wristwatch.

KILLAINE:

Catch me at the Vancouver Royal if

it's important.

DRISCOLL:

How important would it have to be?

It's only murder, Inspector.

Killaine goes close to him, suddenly smiles.

KILLAINE:

The Super's just given me the

sweetest dressing down I've ever

had. I'm still reeling from it.

And believe me, I had it coming.

I apologize. What you think is

important--I think is important.

DRISCOLL:

(answering his smile)

Thanks, Inspector. What are your

orders about this wire to San

Francisco?

KILLAINE:

Men like you don't need orders.

He turns, exits scene. Driscoll is now smiling broadly.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. ROYAL HOTEL - BRANDON'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY

The door opens, Brandon comes in, crosses in the direction

of the bedroom.

INT. ROYAL HOTEL - BRANDON'S BEDROOM -- DAY

Brandon comes in from the living room, crosses to wall

safe. His expression is tight, business-like, his movements

quick, as if he had a lot to do and didn't intend to waste

any time. Opens wall safe, takes a wad of currency from

it, stuffs currency into breast pocket, re-locks safe. A

door buzzer SOUNDS to the door of his apartment. Brandon

reacts, starts to exit.

INT. ROYAL HOTEL - BRANDON'S LIVING ROOM -- DAY

Brandon enters from bedroom. Door buzzer SOUNDS again.

He picks up his hat and coat, goes to door, opens it.

Killaine come past Brandon into room, closing the door.

KILLAINE:

Time for a little chat?

BRANDON:

If it doesn't take too long. Drink?

KILLAINE:

Thanks. I don't mind.

Brandon throws hat and coat on couch, crosses to liquor

cabinet, begins to mix a couple of drinks; his back is now

turned to Killaine, who saunters across room to French

doors, exits terrace. Brandon turns with the glasses in

his hands, then starts after Killaine.

EXT. ROYAL HOTEL - PENTHOUSE TERRACE -- DAY

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