Se7en Page #4

MILLS:

Then, why are we wasting our time? This

guy's heart's got to be roughly the size of

a canned ham. If this isn't a coronary, I

don't know what is.

Somerset moves his flashlight beam down the obese corpse, stops

at the man's feet. Somerset kneels.

At the obese man's pants cuff, there's a tiny bit of rope

sticking out. Somerset uses a pen to lift the pants leg. Rope

is tied around the swollen, purple ankle.

MILLS:

Or not.

Somerset stands and steps back. Mills bends to take his place,

looking under the table and shining his flashlight into the

corpse's lap. The obese man's bloated hands are folded there,

bound tightly with rope.

MILLS:

Still... he could have tied himself up, to

make it look like murder. I saw a guy

once... committed suicide, but wanted to

make sure his family could collect the life

insurance, right?

Somerset does not listen. He is focused on the corpse, studies

the back of the man's head and neck. He runs his pen against the

back of the corpse's neck, combing the hair upwards.

There are small circular and semi-circular BRUISES on the back of

the obese man's head and neck, some hidden under the hair.

MILLS:

When we found him, he was lying there with

a knife in his back, so what else could it

be but homicide? Except, I finally figured

out... he held the knife behind him... put

the tip of it in his own back and got real

close to the wall... then he shoved his

body backwards...

SOMERSET:

(irritated)

Please be quiet for a while, would you?

Mills looks up at Somerset from below. Somerset remains focused

on the bruises.

MILLS:

(sarcastic)

Oh, yes, sir. Forgive me.

Mills stands and walks around to the other side of the table,

where he gets down again.

MILLS:

There's a bucket here.

SOMERSET:

What?

MILLS:

There's a bucket. Under the table.

Somerset crouches, pulls up the cheap tablecloth on his side of

the table. A METAL BUCKET sits under the table.

SOMERSET:

What is it?

Mills slides under with his flashlight, angling in the confined

space to look. He is repulsed and pulls back.

MILLS:

It's vomit.

Mills stands and backs away, near the refrigerator, not wanting

to be anywhere near that bucket.

MILLS:

It's a bucket of vomit.

SOMERSET:

Is there any blood in it?

MILLS:

I don't know. Feel free to look for

yourself, okay?

Somerset stands, stares at the obese man. He shakes his head,

perplexed. There is a KNOCK at the door. The detectives look to

see DOCTOR THOMAS O'NEILL, 52, the medical examiner, in the

doorway. O'Neill is looking at the ceiling. He flicks the lights

switch. No light, so he flicks the switch up and down.

O'NEILL

Wonderful.

O'Neill seems a bit gone. He drops his black bag onto the floor

beside the corpse. he begins to sort through the bag, surgical

tools clinking together.

Mills turns to open the refrigerator. It's nearly empty.

MILLS:

(to Somerset)

You think it was poison?

SOMERSET:

Guessing at this point is useless.

The trash can beside the refrigerator is filled to the brim with

empty food containers. Mills begins to poke around with a pen.

O'NEILL

You girls have got forensics waiting

outside. I don't know if we'll all fit

though.

MILLS:

There's room. Light's the problem.

Somerset looks at Mills, then at the space limitations.

SOMERSET:

Still... two is company here. And, three

is certainly a crowd.

(pause)

Detective Mills, go help the officers

question the neighbors.

Mills looks up, not pleased.

MILLS:

I'd rather stay on this.

Somerset is looking at the corpse.

SOMERSET:

Send one of the forensics in on your way

out.

Mills does not move. He lifts his flashlight to shine the light

on the side of Somerset's face. A moment. Somerset looks at

Mills, the light shining directly in Somerset's eyes. A longer

moment. Mills switches off the light and leaves.

O'Neill places both hands on the dead man's head and lifts the

swollen visage from the spaghetti.

O'NEILL

He is dead.

SOMERSET:

Thank you, Doctor.

INT. SOMERSET'S CAR -- DAY

Somerset drives with Mills as the passenger. Heavy city traffic.

Both stare ahead in silence. Mills is a bundle of nerves.

MILLS:

You've seen my files, right? Seen the

things I've done?

SOMERSET:

No.

MILLS:

(looking out window)

Anyway... I did my time on door-to-doors,

and walking a beat. I did all that sh*t

for a long time.

SOMERSET:

Good.

MILLS:

The badge in my pocket says "detective,"

same as yours.

SOMERSET:

I made a decision, because I have to

consider the integrity of the scene. I

can't worry whether you think you're

getting enough time on the playing field.

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