The Public Eye Page #6

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:

EXT. EAST SIDE - NIGHT

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.

INT. BUILDING LOBBY - SAME

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:

INT. CAFE SOCIETY - NIGHT

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

of the Federal Bureau of

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 the

curb.

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:

The second and third best

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 --

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes