INT. NEW YORK DETECTIVES OFFICE –
EVENING
[DANNY
ROSENSTINE a New York private detective, is sitting at his desk reading a New
York Times. The camera pans around the room and eventually zoom’s in on DANNY
when the following voice over stops.]
DANNY:
(v.o.)
Most of the time, I wouldn’t have been in the office in August. I’d have tried
to get out of the heat of the city for a month. But the ponies hadn’t been kind
to me and right then I was broke. Most of the time I don't have a losing streak
as long as your arm, but the early summer of ’48 was my worst losing streak in
ten years. Work wise I’d had a couple of small jobs, a dame playing away from
home and a missing string of pearls. Both were solved in a couple of days, but
at $20 a day plus expenses, I managed to avoid tying up all the loose ends for
a few days longer. My losing streak wasn’t getting any better. But it was about
to get a lot worse……..
(Knock on door)
(Enter
MARION DAVENPORT, a tall, elegant brunet. She is dressed expensively, wearing a
hat shading half her face and holding a small, elegant handbag. She looks like
old money and has the voice to match. She looks behind her as she comes in the
door.)
MARION:
Mr. Rosenstein?
DANNY:
In person.
MARION:
My name is Marion Davenport.
DANNY:
My mom calls me Daniel,
But
everyone else calls me Danny.
MARION:
Let’s keep it formal shall we,
Mr. Rosenstein?
(She pulls out a powder compact
and checks her face and applies a quick pat of powder.)
DANNY:
Of course, Miss, or is it Mrs Davenport?
MARION:
It’s Mrs.
DANNY:
I’d guess from the way you came
in here that you don’t want Mr. Davenport to know you’re here.
MARION:
Mr. Davenport is dead, Mr.
Rosenstein. He has been for two years.
DANNY:
I’m sorry.
MARION:
Don’t be. He drank like a fish
and was a terrible gambler.
DANNY:
I like him already.
MARION:
Please don’t make light if this,
Mr. Rosenstein. He had one virtue to balance his two vices. He was very well
insured.
DANNY:
That must have been some comfort
to you.
MARION:
It would have been. But
technicalities with the insurance mean that I am now living with Mother and
Father again.
DANNY:
What technicalities?
MARION:
The main one being that there was
no body. He chose to go swimming off our beach at midnight leaving a pile of
clothes and an empty bottle of scotch, and was never seen again. After a year
he was declared dead “in absentia”. So Mr. Davenport is now legally dead in New
York State,
DANNY:
So what’s the problem?
MARION:
The policy is held in Massachusetts,
and the company won’t recognize the death certificate under those circumstances
until he has been missing for five years. They do things slower in
Massachusetts.
DANNY:
Now look, Mrs. Davenport. I really
don't think I can help you. It’s a lawyer you need, not a private detective. I
need the work, but it’s just not my line.
MARION:
Well, the problem is Mr.
Rosenstein, it’s happened again.
DANNY: What has?
MARION:
I am engaged to be married, Mr.
Rosenstein. Or perhaps I was engaged.
DANNY:
Was?
MARION:
My fiancé, Bradley Hopgood,
disappeared two weeks ago.
DANNY:
Was that in the papers?
MARION:
Father kept it quiet, Mr.
Rosenstein. Mainly what he kept quiet was that Bradley’s clothes and an empty
bottle of gin were found on the same spot on the same beach.
DANNY:
Do you mean, same thing,
different liquor.
MARION:
Same thing, different liquor.
DANNY:
So why aren’t the police
involved?, You’d be my number one suspect, Mrs Davenport, so I’m sure even the
cops would think the same.
MARION:
Of course, Mr. Rosenstein. If I
didn’t know better, I’d suspect myself. But I have the advantage of knowing I
didn’t do it.
DANNY:
But of course, you would say
that.
MARION:
Yes, I would. For your
information, the police have questioned me….twice now, but apart from advising
me not to leave the State of New York, I’m free to come and go. There is no
body, no weapon, no suicide note, and no reason whatsoever why I should wish to
kill him.
DANNY:
Considering all of this, you
don’t seem very upset.
MARION:
Well, what would that achieve,
Mr. Rosenstein? Mother and Father always taught me to just get and deal with a
problem. So to get to business, what do you charge?
DANNY:
Twenty a day plus expenses. You’d
get an itemized bill for those, of course.
MARION:
Of course. My father will be
happy to pay.
DANNY:
Of course. Look, you're his
daughter and all, but why is he stumping up for this – not that it’s any of my
business?
MARION:
You’re right, it isn’t. But Daddy
values reputation above gold, and right now I’m suspected by everyone we know
of being a two-time murderer, so that means he has to do something about it.
So, because of your reputation, I came to you.
DANNY:
I wasn’t aware that I had a
reputation on Long Island, well not outside Brooklyn.
MARION:
You don’t. That makes you
perfect. No-one will know you, and there will be no link to us.
DANNY:
So what is it you want me to do?
MARION:
Well, Mr. Rosenstein, I want you
to find out how it was that my husband to be killed himself, or maybe was
disposed of by someone else in exactly the same location and manner as my late
husband committed suicide. If you can do
that, Daddy will be very grateful.
DANNY:
Just Daddy?
MARION:
Well, me too, I guess.
[At this point the façade begins
to crumble: her face creases up and she begins to cry. D.R. moves around the
desk and offers a handkerchief. He doesn’t know what to do, until he realises
that he can offer a drink. He opens the bottom drawer of his desk and pulls out
a bottle of whisky and two grubby glasses. He pours a large one for her, and a
small one, but then looks at her, shakes his head, and adds even more to his
own glass. With no further dialogue, Marion takes a long pull on the whisky,
still sobbing. Danny sips his more slowly, looking at her. Picture fades out.
Scene ends.]
Comments
Post a Comment