The Public Eye Page #15

KAY:

Is it gonna be so much worse than

what I've seen in here?

(She's still holding

his book.)

BERNZY:

Yeah. Yeah it's worse.

(a beat)

Spoleto's wiping out Farinelli's

whole gang. A massacre.

He watches her, watches keenly for her reaction. But it's

hard to read:
she seems stunned, but keeps it to herself.

KAY:

What happens if they see you?

BERNZY:

I know what I'm doing.

KAY:

Then why're you giving me the book?

BERNZY:

They ain't gonna see me.

KAY:

Bernzy -- why're you doing this?

BERNZY:

Why?

She looks at him, and he looks at her. Perhaps he doesn't

know the answer.

BERNZY:

It -- it's what I do, that's all.

She looks at him.

KAY:

That's all?

He nods.

Is she disappointed -- or relieved.

KAY:

When.

BERNZY:

Don't ask me that.

KAY:

Bernzy, please --

BERNZY:

No!

A beat.

KAY:

Do you wanna make love to me, Bernzy?

BERNZY:

Why're you asking? 'Cause you think

I'm gonna die?

She starts to leave; he grabs her hand.

BERNZY:

I didn't mean that.

He brings her face to his almost urgently and kisses her on

the mouth.

KAY:

Wait -- please --

She walks to the police radio, still crackling, and switches

it off. We hold on the radio as she steps out of frame.

KAY:

Okay, Bernzy. Now.

Still holding on the radio, we begin a

SHORT FADE:

FADE IN:

INT. BERNZY'S APT. - DAY

OPEN ON the day-date calendar on Bernzy's desk. It's torn to

FRIDAY. Panning, we find Bernzy's hands, rummaging on the

desk for something.

Amid two or three open boxes of INFRA-RED film, and two roll-

loading cameras, Bernzy finds a ball of string. He is holding

a doorstop (a graded piece of wood).

With the string, he deftly ties the camera piggyback to the

doorstop, sets the timer, puts the camera on the floor. The

lens is angled up toward body level.

The shutter kicks down toward zero, making a distinct sound,

ki-ki-ki-ki-ki. But it stuck around five seconds.

BERNZY:

Dammit.

He picks it up, finds an oil can, puts a drop of oil on the

timer, sets it again. Ki-ki-ki, etc. This time it ticks down

to zero, and the shutter clicks.

CUT TO:

INT. BERNZY'S APT - LATER

Bernzy, pacing, consults his watch. It's almost 6:30.

CUT TO:

INT. SPOLETO'S OFFICE - SAME

Spoleto paces behind his desk, consults his watch. His office

is more richly furnished than Farinelli's.

CUT TO:

INT. SAL'S APARTMENT - EVENING

Sal paces the hallway of his apartment, consults his watch.

Spoleto's LIEUTENANT watches him. The phone, sitting on a

high table in the hallway, rings. Sal seizes it.

SAL:

(into the phone;

cheerfully)

Hello? Hi, Mr. Farinelli. d'Angelo's

Cafe. Sure, I know it. See y'later.

He hangs up the phone, his artificial cheeriness gone.

SAL:

d'Angelo's -- I guess you heard.

LIEUTENANT:

d'Angelo's.

(sympathetically)

You're feelin' kinda rotten, huh?

SAL:

You know it.

LIEUTENANT:

(putting on his hat)

You'll get over it.

The Lieutenant pulls a gun, wrapped in a rag, from his coat.

We hold on Sal's uncomprehending eyes as the gun fires twice.

Sal falls to the floor as the Lieutenant flees.

Sal's wife comes into the hallway, begins shrieking.

CUT TO:

INT. BERNZY'S APARTMENT - EVENING

Bernzy, muttering nervously, occupies himself by gathering

up the photos he spilled onto the desk, collecting them back

into their cigar box files...

BERNZY:

C'mon, Sal, come on...

He consults his watch. 7:08.

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. BERNZY'S APARTMENT - LATER

The alarm clock says 7:20.

Bernzy paces. The files have been completely restored and

sit neatly on the desk.

Bernzy moves briskly to a chair with a pair of trousers draped

over its back. He goes through the pockets, unfolding scraps

of paper and old flashbulbs, till he finds what he wants:

the page of the phone book with Sal's name, address and phone

number.

He goes to the phone, dials.

BERNZY:

(into phone)

Lemme speak to Sal, please.

(listening)

Oh. God. I'm sorry.

Bernzy hangs up the phone. He sinks into his chair, stunned

and defeated. He knocks the newly re-filed boxes of pictures

off the desk; they go scattering in every direction.

CUT TO:

EXT. BERNZY'S APARTMENT - NIGHT

The Lieutenant of Spoleto who killed Sal pulls up across

from Bernzy's apartment. He kills the engine, sets the

handbrake.

INT. BERNZY'S APARTMENT - SAME

Bernzy, still sunk into his seat, suddenly comes up, infused

with new vigor.

He rummages through a disorganized bookshself, seized by

some sort of inspiration, mumbling to himself.

BERNZY:

...'he takes the place over'...

'always takes the place over'...

He finds a book, plonks it onto the desk, takes a seat.

ON the PHONE BOOK: he pages through quickly till he finds a

page headed RESTAURANTS. The numbers are listed

geographically, i.e., EAST SIDE, WEST SIDE, CHINATOWN.

Bernzy's finger finds the column titled LITTLE ITALY. He

starts from the top, dials a number. As it rings, he consults

his watch. Twenty of eight.

PHONE VOICE (V.O.)

Bonotelli's.

BERNZY:

I need a reservation f'r tonight.

PHONE VOICE (V.O.)

Of course, for what time?

Bernzy hangs up. His finger moves to the next number. He

consults his Timex, again.

INT. /EXT. LIEUTENANT'S CAR/STREET - SAME

Spoleto's lieutenant is wrapping his gun in a fresh rag.

INT. BERNZY'S APARTMENT - SAME

Bernzy holds the phone.

ITALIAN VOICE (V.O.)

Clam House.

BERNZY:

I need a reservation for tonight.

ITALIAN VOICE (V.O.)

Yes, and what's the name, please?

Bernzy hangs up the phone, again.

EXT. BERNZY'S APARTMENT - SAME

Spoleto's Lieutenant holds the door for an Old Woman leaving

Bernzy's apartment. He tips his hat, and enters.

INT. BERNZY'S APARTMENT - SAME

Bernzy is on the phone, checking his watch, as the phone

rings.

We see the page of the phone book: seven restaurants have

been crossed off.

BERNZY:

I need a reservation for tonight.

WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.)

(Italian accent)

We all booked tonight.

BERNZY:

Already?

WOMAN'S VOICE (V.O.)

Private party tonight.

BERNZY:

(sitting up keenly)

Oh yeah, sorry to hear that. Maybe

tomorrow... You still at the same

address?

INT. HALLWAY - SAME

The Lieutenant approaches Bernzy's door quietly.

INT. BERNZY'S APARTMENT - SAME

Bernzy tears the page from the phone book, grabs his hat,

his camera, the camera affixed to the piece of wood...

Someone knocks on the door.

He looks up.

INT. HALLWAY - SAME

The Lieutenant waits. He knocks again.

INT. BERNZY'S APT - SAME

Bernzy is frozen, as he sees the doorknob rotate, one way,

then the other.

INT. HALLWAY - SAME

The Lieutenant picks the cheap lock almost effortlessly.

INT. APARTMENT

He takes his gun out as he enters the darkened apartment. He

swings around when he hears a Voice.

It's the police radio.

He moves stealthfully past the darkroom -- sees the photos

hanging on the line...

Then into the bathroom. Now he sees Bernzy's silhouette,

behind the shower curtain, cowering in the stall. He aims

his gun at it, then swiftly draws back the curtain.

It isn't Bernzy:
it's an old fashioned portrait camera, with

a hood, on a tripod.

MAIN ROOM:

The Lieutenant returns, switches on the light. He sees the

curtain swaying in the breeze. He crosses to the window,

parts the curtains. HIS POV:

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