What Lies Beneath Page #10

JODY:

What?

CLAIRE:

In the window. Norman's at work.

JODY:

I don't...

Claire looks over at Jody.

CLAIRE:

(pointing)

There. In the study. Don't you see --

She looks again -- nothing.

CLAIRE:

Wow. I'm losing it.

JODY:

No, you're not.

(beat)

But a presence in your house is not

something to be taken lightly.

Claire stares back at the house.

INT. KITCHEN - NIGHT

Claire walks in and sets down some packages. She opens one

and pulls out new toothpaste and... AN ENVELOPE -- the kind

your pictures come back in. She absently leafs through them,

then freezes. She gapes at one of the shots.

CLAIRE:

Oh boy...

INT. UPSTAIRS - NIGHT

Claire turns off the lights and crouches down. She raises a

pair of BINOCULARS.

POV - BINOCULARS

Claire rakes the binoculars across the Feur's house... past

their car parked in front until she finds A LIGHT ON

DOWNSTAIRS.

The tall, powerfully built Mr. Feur walks into the room and

sits by himself at the dining room table, which is set for

one. He eats a TV dinner, slowly chewing and staring straight

ahead. He sips from a can of beer.

Just then... A HAND GRABS CLAIRE'S ARM. She lets out a screech

and turns to see Norman standing beside her.

NORMAN:

What are you doing?

She glances back out the window and sees Mr. Feur standing

at the window, paging the curtain. She squats down, pulling

Norman with her.

CLAIRE:

(shrill whisper)

Get down! He'll see.

NORMAN:

(also whispers)

What's going on, Claire?

CLAIRE:

Shhhh.

She peers over the sill in time to see Mr. Feur turning away

from the window. She takes Norman by the hand and leads him

downstairs.

INT. CLAIRE'S KITCHEN - NIGHT

She leads Norman in.

NORMAN:

(still whispering)

Why am I...

(full voice)

Why am I whispering in my own house?

Claire turns.

CLAIRE:

He killed her.

NORMAN:

What?

CLAIRE:

He did. She's in the picture. I went

over to look and she's gone. The

table was set for one.

NORMAN:

And that means he murdered his wife?

This is getting ridic --

CLAIRE:

No, no, no, no. The soil on the

shovel, his shovel... that's clay.

It's not from here, believe me, I...

(frustrated, she grabs

the photos)

All right, look at this.

She triumphantly thrusts one before him. Norman looks at it.

NORMAN:

Our house.

CLAIRE:

No. Look! In the window.

The ROSES. She points out a HAZY FIGURE in the TURRETED WINDOW

of the study. Norman takes it over to the light.

NORMAN:

It's a flare.

CLAIRE:

A flare?

NORMAN:

From the sun. It's a reflection on

the glass.

CLAIRE:

It's her! I'm telling you. She

whispered and turned on the music.

She's trying to contact me!

NORMAN:

(making sure he's got

it)

It's a ghost.

Norman shakes his head. He looks again at the picture, does

a quick calculation.

NORMAN:

You took this in the morning, didn't

you?

She nods slightly.

NORMAN:

When the sun would be exactly right.

She's got him.

CLAIRE:

Then why isn't it in any of the other

pictures?

She thrusts the batch at him. He peruses the other few shots

of the garden.

NORMAN:

A cloud passed. Or it's a bounce off

the lake. See?

She looks. He might not be wrong.

CLAIRE:

Where is she then?

NORMAN:

She could be out. She could be sick

in bed for all we know.

CLAIRE:

Okay. Okay. I'll bet there's... Look

at this.

She leads him out of the room.

INT. WORK ROOM - NIGHT

Claire stares at the computer screen triumphantly.

CLAIRE:

See?

NORMAN:

What am I looking at?

CLAIRE:

(indicating completed

solitaire game)

I didn't do that.

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