Zodiac Page #23

File footage of TOSCHI.

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NEWSCASTER (V.O.)(CONT'D)

Toschi, who rose to public

prominence for his investigations

into both the Zodiac and the Zebra

Murders, is currently making

headlines as the next possible

Chief of Police. Along with his

partner William Armstrong, Toschi

is the only San Francisco

detective still working a case

that at one time commanded the

attention of hundreds of

policemen. Now it's down to just

two. And the killer, still at

large, who haunts them.

180A EXT. SAN FRANCISCO STREET CORNER -- NIGHT 180A

Toschi and Armstrong pull up to a curb by Armstrong's

apartment building. Done for the day.

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Armstrong begins gathering up his stuff. Preoccupied with

something. Maybe even upset. Toschi notices.

TOSCHI:

You want to keep the car tonight?

ARMSTRONG:

It's your turn.

TOSCHI:

I know, but if you drop me at my

place, you can have it.

Armstrong looks out the window - his WIFE stands in the door

to the building, waiting. Toschi sees her too. Strange.

Armstrong turns back to Toschi. Has to tell him.

ARMSTRONG:

You should keep the car.

TOSCHI:

Yeah?

ARMSTRONG:

I'm not coming in tomorrow.

TOSCHI:

What's up?

ARMSTRONG:

I'm done. I put in for a

transfer.

TOSCHI:

Where?

ARMSTRONG:

I'm looking at fraud. I can't be

on call anymore.

TOSCHI:

I understand.

ARMSTRONG:

Rather watch my kids grow up, you

know?

TOSCHI:

Yeah. Hey, good for you.

ARMSTRONG:

You'll be okay?

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TOSCHI:

I'll be fine.

Armstrong smiles. Gets out of the car. Thinks of something.

ARMSTRONG:

Hey... I'm not leaving you holding

the bag on anything, am I?

He means Zodiac. Toschi knows it.

TOSCHI:

Nope.

ARMSTRONG:

Okay.

TOSCHI:

Hey, now you got time to get that

sushi.

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Armstrong smiles. Walks to his building. Toschi sees him go

to his wife. He waves. She waves back, knowing what just

transpired. He watches the Armstrongs disappear inside.

Then drives away.

180B OMITTED 180B

181 OMITTED 181

182 INT. SAN FRANCISCO CHRONICLE THIRD FLOOR -- DAY 182

The NEWS ROOM. Different. Old faces gone. New faces there.

A YOUNG REPORTER setting up shop at what used to be Avery'sDesk. Graysmith watches. Finally walks over.

GRAYSMITH:

Hi. Robert Graysmith.

JENNINGS:

(absently)

Duffy Jennings.

Graysmith watches him get comfortable in Avery's chair.

GRAYSMITH:

The guy who used to sit there was

a great reporter.

JENNINGS:

I'm sure he was. I mean, it's an

honor to leave the Chronicle and

go work for the Sacramento Bee.

He threads a piece of paper into his typewriter.

JENNINGS (CONT'D)

Nice meeting you.

183 EXT. WASHINGTON AND CHERRY -- NIGHT 183

October 11, 1977. The eighth anniversary of Stine's death.

Toschi sits in his car like always. Except this time, the

passenger seat is empty. He's alone. Toschi sighs and puts

the car in gear. Driving away. We HOLD on the corner...

Until a YELLOW CAB pulls up to it. The Passenger gets out

and pays the driver. GRAYSMITH. Taking in the scene for the

first time.

184 INT. GRAYSMITH'S APARTMENT -- NIGHT 184

Graysmith, sitting on his couch, going through yellowed

newspaper clippings from Zodiac. Turning page after page.

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The headlines flitting past - "'I've Killed Seven' Zodiac

Claims", "Zodiac Sends New Letter Says He's Killed Ten", "New

Zodiac Letter Claims 17+", "Cops No Closer On Zodiac's

Identity"A

VOICE BY HIS EAR:

MELANIE:

"I am not Paul Avery."

Graysmith starts. Melanie laughs.

MELANIE (CONT'D)

The boys need tuck-ins and the

poop machine needs changing.

GRAYSMITH:

Flip you for it?

MELANIE:

You wish.

(looking at the book)

No one has more Zodiac crap than

you.

Graysmith blinks at this. Looking down at the album.

same name at the top of every article - By Paul Avery.

The

185 EXT. HARBOR -- SUNSET 185

Graysmith walks down the dock among houseboats. Comes to one

in particular - with SHEET METAL over the windows. He knocks

on the door. COUGHING from inside.

It cracks a little to reveal AVERY. Face gaunt. Eyesbloodshot. Looks like hell. Taking in Graysmith. Then:

AVERY:

You gotta be f***ing kidding.

186 INT. AVERY'S HOUSEBOAT -- SUNSET 186

Avery leads Graysmith inside, clearing away some of the mess.

Graysmith, a little surprised at the state of things.

GRAYSMITH:

I hope I’m not interrupting

anything...

It’s clear from his surroundings the only thing Graysmith has

interrupted is Avery playing PONG.

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AVERY:

Not at all.

(re:
Pong)

Have you seen this thing? It’s

mesmerizing...

GRAYSMITH:

Yeah. Yeah. So... how have you

been?

AVERY:

Can’t complain. Bee’s not exactly

the Chron, but f*** it, right?

Work is work. You want a drink?

He begins making a mixture of gin and ice.

GRAYSMITH:

Don't worry about it-

AVERY:

No worry at all, my friend.

Nobody comes by from the old days -

what we got ourselves here is an

occasion.

(raising the bottle)

To your health. And mine. Mostlymine.

He raises his bottle in toast. Graysmith raises his glass.

Notices it’s filthy. Avery drinks deeply. Graysmith does

not. Putting the glass down.

GRAYSMITH:

It’s good to see you, Paul.

Avery smiles at him and settles into a chair.

AVERY:

So, what’s new?

He takes a seat. Graysmith takes a deep breath.

GRAYSMITH:

I’ve been thinking.

AVERY:

Yeah?

GRAYSMITH:

Somebody should write a book.

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AVERY:

“Somebody” should write a book

about what?

GRAYSMITH:

About Zodiac.

AVERY:

That’s not new. Is that whyyou’re here?

GRAYSMITH:

(pitching him)

Nobody knows more about the case

than you. You have the files - if

you put together all the

information, it could jog

something loose-

AVERY:

Lost the files.

GRAYSMITH:

(horrified)

You lost them?

AVERY:

Lost them or tossed them, who

cares, man?

GRAYSMITH:

But you wanted to be in charge of

the investigation!

AVERY:

That was a long time ago.

(refilling his glass)

We work in the daily business as

in to-day. What did you think we

were doing back then? You didn’t

really think it was important?

(off his look;

laughing)

Oh, Jesus... We were just trying

to sell newspapers. More peopledie in three months on the East

Bay commute than that idiot

killed. He offed a few citizens,

wrote a few letters, and faded

into footnote. What, Gray, didyou think I was just sitting here

waiting for you to drop by and

reinvigorate my sense of purpose?

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