Small Apartments Page #4

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Where did he go?

Just around the neighborhood,

I would suppose.

Many of our residents like to

go to the movies or the

library or the bowling alley.

Bowling alley?

Yes, we have a very nice one

just around the corner.

Franklin, I have some

paperwork that I need

you to sign,

if you don't mind.

This one right

here and this one.

And also, Bernard wanted me to

make sure that I gave you this.

I want to see Bernard.

I want to see my brother.

Absolutely.

A brain tumor.

Just like Mom.

"Cancer of the noggin,"

she called it.

Remember?

You kept some secrets,

Bernard.

Well, guess what?

You're not

the only one with secrets.

I killed my landlord.

I killed my landlord.

He wanted the rent.

It was overdue,

like it always is, and,

I didn't have it.

Open up.

Oh, my!

We need to talk.

Mr. Olivetti,

I wasn't expecting you today.

Open up the door.

What the hell is going on?

You like this? Huh?

This? You like this picture?

Yes, very much, actually.

How much you like it?

I like it a whole lot.

In fact, that was given to

me by my brother, Bernard.

Did he, now?

Yeah, I don't care.

Mr. Allspice has

been complaining again.

He says you've been blowing

this thing all hours.

Not all hours. I blow it at 7:00

a. m. You know what he wants to do?

He wants to shove this

horn right up your ass.

Should I tell him you

might like it or what?

F***.

You wanna play a game? Huh?

I'm not in the mood

of a playing a game.

And you are two months

behind with your rent.

Do you have the money?

I never have it.

Okay,

then you know the routine.

Put some mustard on it.

Pretend it's a pickle.

There you have it.

What's the hold up, cupcake?

Ah.

Do you know what I think about

when I'm doing that, Bernard?

I think about Switzerland.

I imagine

I'm really blowing

my mighty alphorn.

We need to talk.

Not with your mouth full.

Come on.

I said,

we need to talk.

Whoa!

Mr. Olivetti?

Are you all right?

I cannot move my arms,

my legs.

You are so f***ed.

It was an accident.

You're going to jail for this.

I'll make sure of it.

I was gonna

smash his face in!

He just stopped breathing.

I would've killed him, though.

I was willing.

And that's what

matters, right?

What have you left

me this time, brother?

Another mystery?

Excuse me.

Excuse me.

Hey...

F***!

Hey. Easy, easy, easy.

What the f***, dude?

You live here?

I ain't done nothing.

I didn't say that you did.

What's your name?

Tommy.

What are you, a cop?

No, no. I'm a fire

investigator, so you can relax.

I just want to ask you

a few questions about

your landlord,

Albert Olivetti.

He's supposed to

come by and fix my sink.

I haven't seen him.

Well, I would hire

a plumber if I were you

because he died in

a fire last night.

Is he okay?

No, he's dead.

Dude.

That's f***ed up.

Who are your neighbors

in this building?

There's an old bellicose fart

up in 244 named Mr. Allspice.

The guy next door to me, in 240, what

can I say? He's a f***ing whack job.

Really? How so?

Well, he's always blowing on

this humongous horn.

You know the ones from

the cough drop commercials?

He's always parading around

in his tighty-whiteys.

Him and the landlord, man...

I don't know.

You don't know what?

Ever since he moved in,

he's had something

weird going on

with the landlord.

You know, come rent time, his

apartment's always Olivetti's first stop,

if you know what I mean.

No, I don't know what you mean.

So why don't you enlighten me?

Forget it.

I don't know nothing.

And I haven't seen nothing.

Nothing at all?

I know one thing.

What's that?

Olivetti was an a**hole and the

world's a better place without him.

Look, I gotta go to work.

Are we good?

Mmm-hmm.

So what's gonna happen with this

building now that Olivetti's dead?

This shithole?

The city will blow it up.

Standard procedure.

All right.

Everybody's

a f***ing comedian.

Motherf***er.

Hey.

Hey, how you doing?

Smoke and turpentine?

Is that what you smell?

Ooh.

That's pickle juice.

F*** you.

Merkins.

Hey, Burt,

what do you got?

Hey.

Anything on the autopsy yet?

Not yet.

Ford truck?

No. Nothing yet.

All right, listen,

I need a search warrant

at the Marlton property.

Apartment 240.

The tenant is

a Franklin Franklin.

Say that again, Burt.

I got Franklin twice.

Yeah, that's his name.

Franklin Franklin.

I'm reading it

right off his mail.

What do you got

going over there, Burt?

I'll call you

later with the details.

I gotta get

the hell outta here.

Yeah? Where are you?

In the apartment.

Jesus Christ.

Good job, Franklin.

You solved my little riddle.

I'm very proud of you.

Unfortunately,

I'm also very dead.

Which is good

news and bad news.

On the downside, you are now

alone in the world.

I know it's probably felt

like that for a while, but,

now it's official.

On the bright side,

now that I'm dead, I can

finally tell you the truth.

You remember,

years ago when I did that

audit for the distillery

down in Kentucky?

They say when bourbon ages, about two

percent of it evaporates each year.

They call it

"the angel's share. "

And since Weiner and Fish always

overbill our clients anyway,

I figured I could

skim the excess

and call it "the

Bernard share. "

Not a lot, but not a little.

And it added up fast.

To the tune of over 800 grand.

Look.

I would've told you about it,

but then came the headaches,

and the mood swings.

I had no control over

what I might do or say.

Where is it?

Dr. Mennox!

Where is it?

Where is it? Huh?

Where is it?

You said the answer

was in your books.

I read your books,

I read every one of them.

I didn't find anything. There's

nothing there. Tell me where it is.

The answer to what?

You know what

I'm talking about!

You know what answer I'm talking

about! Just tell me where it is.

I'm looking for the answer.

You said it was in there!

This man is clearly insane!

Come on.

Sh*t! F***!

So I checked myself

into the psych center.

Open the envelope.

There's 10,000 bucks in there.

And there's plenty more

where that came from.

There's also a passport

with a picture.

Happy birthday,

Mario Cardone

of Philadelphia, PA.

Oh, and whatever you do, don't

lose that little slip of paper.

That's the password sequence

to your new Swiss bank account.

I stole the money

from Weiner and Fish

because they

didn't deserve it.

But Franklin, I wasn't

destined to enjoy it, either.

You know

how Moses was

good enough to lead

the Israelites out

of the wilderness,

but he wasn't fit to

enter the promised land?

Well, you're like the ancient

Hebrews, Franklin,

and now I have led you out of

the bondage that is L.A.

Listen, Frank. I mean...

Mr. Mario Cardone

of Philadelphia, PA,

this money, this opportunity,

this is my

parting gift to you.

I'm fulfilling

my promise to Mom

and closing all accounts.

Make a fresh start,

little brother.

I'm not holding

you back anymore.

Go find your happiness.

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