The Man Who Wasn't There Page #10

A harsh jangle from the telephone. Doris moans but does not

wake; Ed rises and does to the living room and picks up the

phone.

ED:

Yeah.

VOICE:

Ed, it's Big Dave. I gotta talk to

you.

ED:

What--now?

DAVE:

Please, Ed.

ED:

But it's...

DAVE:

Please, Ed.

Ed sighs.

ED:

Your place?

DAVE:

I'm at Nirdlinger's. Let yourself

in.

ED:

OK.

He hangs up.

He nudges Doris.

ED:

...Honey.

She murmurs.

ED:

...Honey.

She rolls away and burrows into a pillow.

Ed opens her purse and pokes through it.

NIRDLINGER'S

We are looking over Ed's shoulder as he hesitantly swings

open a door.

It reveals Big Dave's office, quiet and rather dark.

A down-facing banker's lamp on the desk illuminates Big Dave's

hands on the desktop.

ED:

...Dave?

DAVE:

Come on in.

Ed enters, sits.

An awkward silence.

ED:

...What's the problem, Big Dave?

Another silence.

DAVE:

...I'm ruined.

His hands writhe on the desktop.

DAVE:

...It ruined me. This money. No annex.

I'm all shot to hell.

ED:

So you paid the guy?

Big Dave stares without speaking.

After a long beat:

DAVE:

...What kind of man *are* you?

ED:

...Huh?

DAVE:

What kind of man *are* you?

ED:

Big Dave--

DAVE:

I'd understand if you'd walked in

here. Socked me in the nose. Whatever.

I deserved it.

ED:

I, uh...

DAVE:

I'm not proud of what I did. But

*you*.

No one talks.

Big Dave sighs.

DAVE:

...Yeah, I paid up. As you well know.

And then I went and found the pansy.

He looks at Ed.

DAVE:

...Got nothin' to say, huh? Yeah,

well, you already know the story. I

didn't, I hadda beat it out of the

pansy. *Your* money.

No response.

DAVE:

...What kind of man *are* you?

Big Dave rises.

DAVE:

...Well.

He crosses around the desk and adds, sadly:

DAVE:

...I'm all shot to hell.

Ed starts to rise, but Big Dave is already looming over him.

Big Dave bear-hugs him and then spins him into a wall.

Ed hits the wall and bounces off, back into Big Dave. Big

Dave wallops him in the stomach. Ed doubles over.

DAVE:

...What kind of man *are* you?

Big Dave hurls him against the desk, then slams his face

against the desktop. Ed's hands scrabble at the top of the

desk as Big Dave grabs him by the neck and lifts. He slams

him face-first into the window between the office and the

dark sales floor.

Ed twists around, the back of his head now pressed against

the glass. Big Dave's hands lock around his throat.

Big Dave sweats and strains.

A crack shoots up the pane of glass.

Ed's hand sweeps up and plunges something into Big Dave's

neck.

Big Dave grunts and turns away, gurgling. His hands go up to

his throat.

Ed watches. He is holding Big Dave's cigar trimmer.

Big Dave takes a couple of deliberate steps backward, his

head twisted away.

He falls back, tripped up by a chair, which spins him face-

down onto the floor.

Big Dave crawls away face-down across the floor, on his knees

but with his hands still at his throat. His face and knees

awkwardly support his weight as if he were pushing something

across the floor with his nose.

He reaches a corner but still pushes forward, wedging himself

in, legs still scraping away as if to push himself through

the wall. Blood is pooling out from under him.

Big Dave's legs are still working. His gurgling continues.

Ed watches.

Big Dave's legs start to move furiously. They convulse. His

whole body shakes as he goes into shock.

Ed watches.

Big Dave stops shaking. He remains wedged awkwardly into the

corner, face-down. He is still.

The room is very quiet.

Ed looks down at his hands.

He walks across the room, pushes the door open and walks

across the darkened sales floor.

EXT. STORE

Ed walks to his car. He does not look about, is not

particularly furtive. He gets into the car. He starts the

ignition.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes