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The Public Eye Page #6
- R
- Year:
- 1992
- 99 min
- 473 Views
BERNZY:
They're over there, smoking.
The Hood uncovers his face. The police have worked him over.
He has a mean cut under one eye. He gives Bernzy his fiercest,
most defiant post.
Bernzy squeezes the shutter.
When the flash fires, all the other Photographers look over
quickly.
But the Hood has covered his face, again.
BERNZY:
Thanks.
HOOD:
F*** off.
CUT TO:
In his parked car, Bernzy reads Portifino's gilt business
card under the dashboard light, then looks out at Portifino's
residence:
A high-priced building with a Moderne facade and a Doorman.
Bernzy gets out, tosses his cigar away, stows his camera in
the trunk, crosses and enters.
We watch from outside the glass as Bernzy speaks to the
Doorman, bribes him, is directed to the elevator.
INT. HALLWAY - SAME
Bernzy comes off the elevator, heads down the hallway to APT
7G. The door is barely ajar; a sliver of light falls through
the crack, onto the hallway carpet.
Bernzy rings the bell. No response. He rings again. Waiting
he glances downward casually --
BERNZY:
Whoops.
A shimmering dark ribbon of blood seeps under the doorway.
Bernzy pushes the door open a few inches before it hits
something solid. He forces the door another few inches, and
pulls himself through the opening.
INT. PORTIFINO'S APT. - SAME
The luxury apartment has a few pieces of furniture and some
unopened boxes in it; Portifino has just moved in.
But it is Porfitino who lies dead by the door.
He is tangled in piano wire. The wire was rigged around the
still-living Portifino so that any movement caused it to dig
more deeply into him. He killed himself by dragging himself
to the door to seek help.
Bernzy goes to the telephone, dials a number.
VOICE (O.S.)
Precinct.
BERNZY:
Homicide, please.
beat. Then a voice:
CONKLIN (O.S.)
Homicide. Conklin.
BERNZY:
Hey, Conklin, it's Bernzy.
CONKLIN (O.S.)
What's up, Bernzy?
BERNZY:
I was paying kind of a social call
on a guy called Emilio Portifino.
There is an odd silence on Conklin's end -- and then an edge
to his voice.
CONKLIN (O.S.)
Yes?
BERNZY:
The guy's been murdered. I'm standin'
here in his apartment now.
(he glances at the
corpse)
Professional job. I never saw anything
like it.
CONKLIN (O.S.)
Alright, stay where you are.
BERNZY:
I gotta leave for a few minutes.
CONKLIN (O.S.)
What?
BERNZY:
Just downstairs, to get my camera.
(he looks at the corpse)
This is somethin' you don't see alot.
CONKLIN (O.S.)
No. Stay put! We'll be there in five
minutes.
BERNZY:
Alright. The address is one-fifteen --
But the phone clicks off. Bernzy sets down the receiver. He
looks at the corpse.
BERNZY:
He knew your address already.
He picks up the phone, dials another number.
BERNZY:
Kay Levitz, please...
PHONE VOICE (O.S.)
Who's calling?
BERNZY:
Leon Bernstein -- Bernzy.
INTERCUT TO:
A Waiter plugs in a telephone by a table where Kay chats and
laughs with some Society Types. He hands her the telephone.
INTERCUT TO:
INT. PORTIFINO'S APT.
Bernzy looks at the corpse as he speaks on the phone.
BERNZY:
You're not gonna have no more trouble
with Portifino in the good seats.
INT. CAFE SOCIETY
Kay is stunned as the other people at the table laugh gayly,
obliviously, around her.
KAY:
He's was what?... My God.
Hearing her, one of the Men at the table looks at her. She
forces a smile.
INT. PORTIFINO'S APT.
Bernzy looks at his watch.
BERNZY:
Anything you better tell me? Anything
I better know before the cops get
here?
INT. CAFE SOCIETY
At the table, the Man smiles at Kay, again. She smiles back
only fleetingly, before shifting in her seat, so she can
speak more privately into the phone.
KAY:
Bernzy, all I know about him is what
I told you. If you're asking what I
think you are --
BERNZY (O.S.)
I'm not askin' that...
INT. PORTIFINO'S APT.
BERNZY:
The Mob did this guy in, it's obvious.
INT. CAFE SOCIETY
KAY:
(weak, as if from a
blow)
The Mob.
INT. PORTIFINO'S APARTMENT
Bernzy can hear how upset she is. He wants to say something
comforting, but he wants to get his picture. He looks at
Portifino.
BERNZY:
Yeah. Alright, look, I -- I'll be in
touch. I gotta go.
CUT TO:
INT. PORTIFINO'S BLDG. - 7TH FLR HALLWAY - LATER
CONKLIN, in a suit, comes swiftly off the elevator, with two
Uniformed Cops and a Man in a gray suit and hat behind him.
INT. PORTIFINO'S APT. - SAME
Bernzy, having ignored Conklin's request, stands over the
corpse, taking a picture. He smokes a cigar.
Conklin and the others burst in. Conklin leads the man in
the suit to Bernzy as the others set to work, dusting for
finger-prints, etc.
BERNZY:
(taking another picture)
Conklin.
CONKLIN:
(to the man in the
suit)
Mr. Chadwick, this is Leon Bernstein,
commonly known as The Great Bernzini.
Bernzy, this is Inspector Chadwick
Investigation.
Surprised, Bernzy looks over from his viewfinder.
BERNZY:
Pleased to meet you.
CUT TO:
EXT. FEDERAL BLDG. (CHURCH ST.) - NIGHT
Low angle:
Tires squeal as an unmarked sedan pulls up to thecurb.
Bernzy is quickly and closely escorted from the car, up the
stairs, like a star witness or a criminal in custody. He
raises his eyebrows wryly, wonders what the hell is going
on...
CUT TO:
INT. FBI - CHADWICK'S OFFICE - LATER
Bernzy is in front of the desk in Chadwick's clean, non-
descript office. One one side of him, a Young Agent takes
notes; on the other side of him an Older Agent (gray-haired)
says nothing, merely observes.
Chadwick stands behind his desk, in front of two steel filing
cabinets. He interrogates Bernzy in the humorless G-Man style.
CHADWICK:
What was your business with Portifino?
BERNZY:
I told you. I was just calling on
him as a favor to a friend.
CHADWICK:
Right. What did you say your friend's
name was?
BERNZY:
I didn't say.
Chadwick waits a beat: Bernzy offers nothing.
BERNZY:
What're you investigating here,
anyway? I mean, what was this guy --
CHADWICK:
Did your friend have business dealings
with Portifino.
BERNZY:
No.
CHADWICK:
Detective Conklin tells us you know
many members of the mob in New York.
BERNZY:
I also know a lot of cops and wash-
room attendants. It's the only way a
photographer stays in business. I
mean a tabloid photographer, not a
Steiglitz or a Steichen.
YOUNG AGENT:
(for his notes)
Excuse me. Steigle or -- ?
BERNZY:
photographers in the country.
Nobody asks who's first.
CHADWICK:
Don't mobsters sometimes say they
won't let anybody but you take their
picture?
BERNZY:
That's right. I'm sure you get t'know
a lot of criminals in your line of
work, too.
Chadwick, impervious to humor, stares.
BERNZY:
Maybe not.
CHADWICK:
Was Portifino with the mob?
BERNZY:
I dunno... Was he?
CHADWICK:
I ask the questions here... How did
he do it? How did he come to town
and set himself up so fast?
BERNZY:
Look, you know more about this guy
than I do, that's obvious. I call
Conklin, right away you guys know
the address, now you're tellin' me
he's in business --
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"The Public Eye" Scripts.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 29 Aug. 2024. <https://www.scripts.com/script/the_public_eye_1014>.
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