Man Who Wasn't There, The (2001)

Black.

			ED (V.O.)
	Yeah, I worked in a barbershop. But
	I never considered myself a barber...

We track back from a barber's pole.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I stumbled into it--well, married
	into it more precisely...

We track back from a shopkeeper's bell triggered by an opening
door. The pull back and tilt down show the top of the head
of a customer entering in slow motion.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I wasn't my establishment. Like
	the fella says, I only work here...

We track along a shelf backed by a mirror and holding pomade,
aftershave, hair tonic, a whisk brush.

			ED (V.O.)
	...The dump was 200 feet square,
	with five chairs, or stations as we
	call 'em, even though there were
	only two of us working...

We track in on a big man in a barber's smock scissoring across
a lock of hair that he pulls taut between two fingers of one
hand. In slow motion, he laughs and chats.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Frank Raffo, my brother-in-law,
	was the principal barber. And man,
	could he talk...

Another man in a barber's smock is running electric clippers
across a child's head. A cigarette between his lips.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Now maybe if you're eleven or
	twelve years old, Frank's got an
	interesting point of view, but
	sometimes it got on my nerves. Not
	that I'd complain, mind you. Like I
	said, he was the principal barber.
	Frank's father August--they called
	him Guzzi--had worked the heads up
	in Santa Rosa for thirty-five years
	until his ticker stopped in the middle
	of a Junior Flat Top. He left the
	shop to Frankie free and clear. And
	that seemed to satisfy all of Frank's
	ambitions: cutting the hair and
	chewing the fat. Me, I don't talk
	much...

He plucks the cigarette from his mouth and taps its ash into
a tray.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I just cut the hair...

LATE IN THE DAY

The barbershop is empty of customers. Late sun slants in
through the front window. The two barbers--the narrator and
his brother-in-law--sit in two of the barber chairs, idly
reading magazines.

			FRANK
	Says here that the Russians exploded
	n A-bomb and there's not a damn thing
	we can do about it.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			FRANK
	How d'ya like them apples?

Beat.

			FRANK
	...Ed?

			ED
	Huh?

			FRANK
	Russians exploded an A-bomb.

			ED
	Yeah.

			FRANK
		(shaking his head)
	Jesus...

			ED (V.O.)
	Now, being a barber is a lot like
	being a barman or a soda-jerk; there's
	not much to it once you've learned
	the basic moves. For the kids there's
	the Butch, or the Heinie...

We cut to examples of the haircuts as they are ticked off:

			ED (V.O.)
	...the Flat Top, the Ivy, the Crew,
	the Vanguard, the Junior Contour
	and, occasionally, the Executive
	Contour. Adults get variations on
	the same, along with the Duck Butt,
	the Timberline...

Ed trims the fringe around a balding head.

			ED (V.O.)
	...and something we call the Alpine
	Rope Toss.

He snips one long lonely strand of hair and carefully drapes
it across a bald pate.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I lived in a little bungalow on
	Napa Street. The place was OK, I
	guess; it had an electric ice box,
	gas hearth, and a garbage grinder
	build into the sink. You might say I
	had it made.

We float slowly toward a white bungalow on a quiet street as
a black coupe pulls into the driveway.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Oh yeah. There was one other
	thing...

We track in through a bedroom door to discover a woman putting
on a girdle.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Doris kept the books at
	Nirdlinger's, a small department
	store on Main Street. Unlike me,
	Doris liked the work, accounting;
	she liked knowing where everything
	stood. And she got a ten per cent
	employee discount on whatever she
	wanted--nylon stockings...

Close on her legs as she rolls up a stocking and clips it to
the garter.

			ED (V.O.)
	...make-up, and perfume...

Close on an atomiser misting her bosom with Jungle Gardenia
by Tuvache.

			ED (V.O.)
	...She wore a lot of perfume.

Doris in a flouncy dress is setting coasters on a coffee
table.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Doris's boss, Big Dave Brewster,
	was married to Ann Nirdlinger, the
	department store heiress. Tonight
	they were coming over for dinner--as
	Doris said, we were 'entertaining'...

Ed sits on the living-room davenport in an uncomfortable
suit, smoking.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Me, I don't like entertaining.

The doorbell rings.

THE DOOR

Ed opens it to reveal a large man in a suit and his demure,
bird-like wife.

			DAVE
	How ya doin', Ed?

			ED
	OK. Take your coat, Ann?

DINNER TABLE

The two couples are in the middle of the meal.

			DAVE
	Japs had us pinned down in Buna for
	something like six weeks. Well, I
	gotta tell ya, I thought *we* had it
	tough, but, Jesus, we had supply.
	*They* were eating grubs, nuts,
	thistles. When we finally up and
	bust off the beach we found Arnie
	Bragg, kid missing on recon; the
	Japs had *eaten* the sonofabitch, if
	you'll pardon the, uh... And this
	was a scrawny, pimply kid too, nothin'
	to write home about. I mean, I never
	would've, ya know, so what do I say,
	honey? When I don't like dinner,
	what do I say?

Ann smiles wanly.

			DAVE
	...I say, Jesus, honey, Arnie Bragg--
	*again*?!

He roars with laughter.

Ed gives an acknowledging smile.

			DAVE
	...Arnie Bragg--*again*?!

He dries his eyes with the corner of a napkin.

			DAVE
	...Were you in the service, Ed?

			ED
	No, Dave, I wasn't.

			DORIS
	Ed was 4F on account of his fallen
	arches.

			DAVE
	Mm, that's tough.

FRONT PORCH

Ed is standing alone on the porch, watching the sun go down.
Crickets chirp. From inside the house we hear laughter and
clattering dishes.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Yeah... I guess Doris liked all
	that he-man stuff. Sometimes I had
	the feeling that she and Big Dave
	were a lot closer than they let on...

He turns and looks through the screen door into the house.

Across the dim living room we can see a sliver of the brightly
lit kitchen. Big Dave, wearing a frilly apron, stands at the
counter drying dishes. His broad back heaves with laughter
while Doris, just hidden by the wall, chats away, handing
dishes across.

			ED (V.O.)
	...The signs were all there plain
	enough--not that I was gonna prance
	about it, mind you. It's a free
	country.

Footsteps approach the front porch.

With the squeak of the screen door, Big Dave emerges.

			DAVE
	Holding down the porch area?

Ed gives a half-grin of wry acknowledgement. Big Dave relaxes,
forearms against the porch railing, gazing out at the front
lawn.

			DAVE
	...That's quite a wife you got there.

			ED
	Mm.

			DAVE
	She's a rare one.

			ED
	How's business, Dave?

			DAVE
	Couldn't be better. These're boom
	times in retailing. We're opening
	another store, Big Dave's Annex,
	there on Garson. This is strictly
	haberdashery--casual wear, pyjamas,
	ladies' foundations and undergarments.
	Matter of fact, I'm thinking of making
	Doris the comptroller. How're things
	at the, uh, the barbershop?

			ED
	All right, I guess.

			DAVE
	...Fine. Fine. Well, you might want
	to drop by the Annex when we open,
	update your suit--'course, you're in
	the smock all day.

He chuckles.

			DAVE
	...Say, where do you get those things
	anyway?

			ED
	Specialty store down in Sacramento.

			DAVE
	Uh-huh.

There is a silence. At length, gazing out at the lawn, Big
Dave clears his throat.

CHURCH

			ED (V.O.)
	Doris and I went to church once a
	week...

We are tilting down a long stained-glass window depicting
the resurrection of Christ.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Usually Tuesday night...

Faintly, we hear an amplified voice:

			CALLER
	I... seven...

Ed sits at a long table, staring at the window, a lit
cigarette in his mouth.

			CALLER
	...Bee... Four...

			ED (V.O.)
	Doris wasn't big on divine worship...

Doris is concentrating on the six cards spread in front of
her.

			ED (V.O.)
	...and I doubt if she believed in
	life everlasting; she'd most likely
	tell you that our reward is on this
	earth and bingo is probably the extent
	of it...

Still focused on her cards, Doris mutters to Ed:

			DORIS
	Watch your card, honey.

			CALLER
	I... sixteen...

Ed continues to gaze off at the window, smoke pluming from
his cigarette.

			ED (V.O.)
	I wasn't crazy about the game, but,
	I don't know, it made her happy, and
	I found the setting peaceful.

			CALLER
	Gee... nine...

Doris sucks in her breath.

			DORIS
	Jesus, bingo--BINGO!

BARBERSHOP

Sun slants in through the big window at the end of the day.
Ed sweeps hair trimmings, looking intently down at the floor,
a cigarette dangling from his lip. Frank sits on one of the
vinyl waiting chairs, talking at Ed's back.

			FRANK
	...so you tie your own flies, Ed. I
	mean, if you're really serious. You
	tie your own flies, you do a--I know
	it's matickless, I know, people say,
	hey, you can buy flies at the store--
	but you can buy your fish at the
	store, Ed, you see what I'm saying?

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			FRANK
	The point is there's a certain art
	to the process. The point is not
	merely to provide, and let me point
	out, these fish are not as dumb as
	you might think.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			FRANK
	Sportsmanship! That's my point. June
	fly, Ed? Mosquito? Which of these?
	Well, what fish do you seek?

			ED
	Yeah.

			FRANK
	Sure, go to the store. Go there,
	describe to the man where you will
	be fishing, and for what, and the
	weather conditions, sun, no sun,
	whatnot, and so forth, and then you
	might as well have the man go ahead
	and sell you the goddamn FISH, Ed...

We see a black-suited figure approaching through the windows
at the far end of the shop. He is almost blown out by the
late-day sunlight hitting the window.

			FRANK
	...My point is, this is a man who
	knows nothing no matter how much you
	tell him, so sell him the goddamn
	FISH, Ed.

The bell over the front door tinkles, and the swarthy middle-
aged man walks in. He is well dressed--perhaps a little too
snazzily for this small town--and has a sporty pencil
mustache.

			MAN
	OK, boys, which of you gets the
	privilege?

			FRANK
	We're just closing, friend.

			MAN
	Oh, happy days! I wish I was doing
	well enough to turn away business!
	More power to ya, brother! The public
	be damned!

			FRANK
	Hey, what's your problem, friend?
	This is a business establishment
	with posted hours--

Ed cuts in with a jerk of the head.

			ED
	I'll take care of him, go ahead,
	Frank. Have a seat, mister.

Frank looks sourly at the stranger.

			FRANK
	...You sure, Eddie?

			ED
	Yeah, yeah--go home.

As Frank leaves:

			FRANK
	In your ear, mister.

The stranger chuckles.

			STRANGER
	Oh, those fiery Mediterraneans. Say!
	Not so fast there, brother--

Ed has switched on the clippers, but the stranger waves him
back; he lifts off a toupee.

			STRANGER
	...Pretty good, huh? Fools even the
	experts. 100 percent human hair,
	handcrafted by Jacques of San
	Francisco, and I'd hate to have to
	tell you what I paid for it.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			STRANGER
	Yes, it's a nice rug. I'm paying for
	it down on the installment plan...

Ed starts to trim the stranger's fringe.

			STRANGER
	...A lot of folks live with the pate
	exposed. They say the dames think
	it's sexy. But for my money it's
	just not good grooming--and grooming,
	my friend, is probably the most
	important thing in business--after
	personality, of course...

He twists around to offer his hand.

			STRANGER
	...Creighton Tolliver, pleased to
	know ya.

			ED
	Ed Crane. What brings you to Santa
	Rosa?

			CREIGHTON
	A goose, friend. I was chasing a
	wild goose. Ed, have you ever heard
	of venture capital?

			ED
	Uh--

			CREIGHTON
	Well, it's the wildest goose there
	is. Risk money. Very speculative.
	Except, Ed, in certain situations,
	it's not, see? I thought I had a
	prospect here. Well, I make the haul
	up and this lousy so-and-so tells me
	his situation has changed--all his
	capital's gonna be tied up in
	expansion plans of his own. Thank
	you, mother! Pop goes another bubble!
	It's only the biggest business
	opportunity since Henry Ford and I
	can't seem to interest a soul!

			ED
	That right.

			CREIGHTON
	It's called dry cleaning. You heard
	me right, brother, 'dry cleaning'--
	wash without water, no suds, no
	tumble, no stress on the clothes.
	It's all done with chemicals, friend,
	and your garments end up crisp and
	fresh. And here's the capper: no
	shrinkage.

			ED
	Huh.

			CREIGHTON
	That's right! Dry cleaning--remember
	the name. It's going to revolutionize
	the laundry industry, and those that
	get in early are gonna bear the fruit
	away. All I need is $10,000 to open
	my first store, then I use its cash
	flow to finance another, and so on--
	leap frog, bootstrap myself a whole
	chain. Well, me and a partner.
	Cleanliness, friend. There's money
	in it. There's a future. There's
	room to grow... Say, that's looking
	pretty good. Let's see it with the
	hairpiece on...

BATHROOM DOORWAY

It is evening. Ed leans against the bathroom doorjamb
contemplatively off, hands thrust into his pockets, a
cigarette between his lips pluming smoke.

			ED (V.O.)
	Dry cleaning...

The reverse show Doris soaking in the tub, reading a magazine.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Was I crazy to be thinking about
	it? Was he a huckster, or opportunity,
	the real McCoy?

Ed takes the cigarette from his mouth, exhales.

			ED (V.O.)
	...My first instinct was, no, no,
	the whole idea was nuts. But maybe
	that was the instinct that kept me
	locked up in the barbershop, nose
	against the exit, afraid to try
	turning the knob. What if I could
	get the money?

			DORIS
	Honey?

			ED
	Mm.

She lifts one leg and rests the heel on the rim of the tub.

			DORIS
	Shave my legs, will ya?

Ed saunters over, perches on the tub and puts the cigarette
back in his mouth to free his hands. He picks up a bar of
soap and starts soaping the leg.

He sets down the soap and picks up a safety razor.

The razor takes long slow strokes along the lather, dark
bits of hair flecking the white foam.

			ED (V.O.)
	...It was clean. No water. Chemicals.

He shakes the razor in the tub. Shavings float away across
the soap-slicked water.

			DORIS
		(absently, as she
		reads)
	Gimme a drag.

Ed pulls the cigarette from his mouth between two fingers,
uses the two fingers to flip it over, and holds it for Doris
as she sucks.

He brings the cigarette, now marked with lipstick, back to
his own mouth. She murmurs:

			DORIS
	...Love ya, honey.

A DOOR

We hear a voice, muffled through the door, breaking into
laughter.

A hand enters to knock.

			VOICE
	Yeah, come in.

The door swings open to show Creighton in his shirtsleeves
sitting on the bed, talking on the phone. A tray of room-
service dishes sits near him.

He is bald; his hairpiece sits on the pillow next to him.

			CREIGHTON
		(into the phone)
	OK... yeah. I'll see you tomorrow.

He hangs up, looks quizzically at Ed.

			CREIGHTON
	...Oh, I thought you were the
	porter... Can I help you?

Ed stands awkwardly by the door.

			ED
	...I'm, uh, Ed.

The stranger's look does not show recognition.

			ED
	...Ed Crane. Remember? Today?

			CREIGHTON
	Sorry, friend, I, uh, you got me at
	a disadvantage.

			ED
	I'm, uh, I'm--the barber.

			CREIGHTON
	Jesus! The barber! I'll be a
	sonofagun. Why didn't you say so?
	'Course--the barber.

Ed nods, his smile faint and forced.

			CREIGHTON
	...I didn't recognize you without
	the smock. Did I--damn--did I leave
	something at the shop?

			ED
	No. I might be interested in that,
	uh, business proposition--

Creighton, surprised, quickly picks up his hairpiece and
arranges it on his head.

			CREIGHTON
	You got the dough?!

			ED
	I can get it, yeah.

			CREIGHTON
	Come in, come in, siddown over there.
	Coffee?

			ED
	No. I--tell me--

			CREIGHTON
	Sure.

			ED
	What's involved, aside from putting
	up the money? What're you looking
	for the partner to do?

			CREIGHTON
	Do? Hell, nothing. Well, you'll want
	to keep tabs on your investment, of
	course, but I'm looking for a silent
	partner. I've done the research,
	I've contacted the vendors, the deal
	is set. I'm just looking for venture
	capital, friend. Disappear if you
	want, check in whenever you like--I
	want the dough; I don't take
	attendance.

			ED
	And how do we share--

			CREIGHTON
	Fifty-fifty, straight down the line.
	You and me. Finance and expertise.
	So--you've got the dough then, do
	ya?

			ED
	I'll have it in a week.

			CREIGHTON
	Well, I'll be damned. The barber!
	And I thought this trip was a bust.
	Well...

He reaches for a bottle of bonded whiskey on the night stand
and hands Ed a glass.

			CREIGHTON
	...it just goes to show, when one
	door slams shut, another one opens.
	Here's to ya, uh...

			ED
	Ed.

They both knock back the whiskey. Creighton leans back and
gives Ed a heavy-lidded stare, a faint smile on his lips,
his hairpiece slightly askew.

Ed stares back.

After a beat, without taking his eyes of Ed, Creighton reaches
up and loosens his tie. An almost imperceptible wink.

Ed stares.

			ED
	...Was that a pass?

			CREIGHTON
		(hoarsely)
	Maybe.

			ED
	You're out of line, mister.

Creighton throws up his hands apologetically.

			CREIGHTON
	No problem!

			ED
	Way out of line.

			CREIGHTON
	Right! Strictly business.

			ED
	Yeah.

CLOSE ON TYPEWRITTEN NOTE

It says:

I KNOW ABOUT YOU AND DORIS CRANE.  COOPERATE OR ED CRANE
WILL KNOW.  YOUR WIFE WILL KNOW. EVERYONE WILL KNOW. GATHER
$10,000 AND AWAIT INSTRUCTIONS.

A hand pulls the note out of a typewriter carriage.

			ED (V.O.)
	I sent it to Dave the next morning.
	And I waited.

BARBERSHOP

We are looking down at the top of an eight-year-old's crew
cut as clippers buzz its perimeter.

Frank reads a magazine. The youngster reads a comic as Ed
works his head.

			ED
	Frank.

			FRANK
	Huh?

			ED
	This hair.

			FRANK
	Yeah.

			ED
	...You ever wonder about it?

			FRANK
	Whuddya mean?

			ED
	I don't know... How it keeps on
	coming. It just keeps growing.

			FRANK
	Yeah--lucky for us, huh, pal?

			ED
	No, I mean it's growing, it's part
	of us. And we cut it off. And throw
	it away.

			FRANK
	Come on, Eddie, you're gonna scare
	the kid.

Ed shuts off the clippers and give the apron a flap.

			ED
	OK, bud, you're through.

The kid hops down, still reading his comic, and ambles out
the door. Ed gives Frank a considering stare.

			ED
	...I'm gonna take his hair and throw
	it out in the dirt.

			FRANK
	What the--

			ED
	I'm gonna mingle it with common house
	dirt.

			FRANK
	What the hell are you talking about?

Ed turns back to the counter to hang up his clippers.

			ED
	I don't know. Skip it.

EXT. ED'S HOUSE

It is twilight. Ed lifts the latch on the front gate and,
cigarette in his mouth, heads up the walk.

Music filters out from the house.

INT. ED'S HOUSE

Ed walks though the living room, hands in his pockets. The
music emanates from a radio in the bedroom.

			DORIS
	Ed?

A track forward reveals Doris sitting at a vanity, doing her
hair. Her dress is half zipped at the back.

			DORIS
	...Gimme a zip.

Ed walks over behind her.

			ED
	Where you going?

			DORIS
	Me? Us! The party at Nirdlinger's--I
	told you last week, for the Christmas
	Push.

			ED
	Yeah, right.

We are close on the zipper as Ed's hand takes the tab, pauses,
the lowers it slightly. Her back blooms through the dark
fabric of the dress.

He slides the zipper up, and Doris reaches for a perfume
atomizer.

			DORIS
	Come on, get ready. It's important.

			ED
	Nah, go ahead. I'm not big on parties.

			DORIS
	Oh, don't be a grump.

SALES FLOOR

It is festooned with streamers.

Ed leans against a wall, one hand dug into a pocket, the
other bringing a cigarette to his lips.

Band music plays and Nirdlinger's employees whirl on the
dance floor. Bobby-soxed teenagers Lindy-hop and pass palms
over their knees.

A thin young man in a sports coat stands next to Ed, watching,
his Adam's apple bobbing.

			YOUNG MAN
	Wild, man!

He goes out onto the dance floor. Ed, left by himself, gazes
across the floor.

His view, broken by dancers' crosses, shows Big Dave worriedly
talking to Doris.

Doris reacts angrily.

Big Dave morosely absorbs the angry words from Doris. He
glances up toward Ed and notices his gaze with consternation.
He gives Doris a jerk of the head, and she too looks over.

			VOICE
	You in ladies' wear?

The young man with the Adam's apple is back, looking out at
the floor, snapping his fingers.

			ED
	...Huh?

			YOUNG MAN
	Haven't I seen you up in ladies'
	wear?

			ED
	I don't work here. My wife does.

			YOUNG MAN
	Uh-huh. Some beat, huh?

			ED
	Yeah.

			YOUNG MAN
	Check out the rack on that broad in
	the angora.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

A hand is laid on Ed's shoulder. It is Big Dave; he leans in
to murmur:

			DAVE
	Ed. Can I talk to you?

BIG DAVE'S OFFICE

Music from the party drifts in only faintly. The office is
built into a corner of the sales floor. It is dominated by a
large desk. A large window on the far side affords a partial
view of the floor.

			DAVE
	Siddown. Siddown...

Ed sits in a leather chair in front of the desk. Dave fumbles
nervously on top of the desk for a cigar. He trims the end
of the cigar with a short double-bladed knife with a steel
grip.

			DAVE
	...Souveniered it off a Jap in New
	Guinea.

He hands one cigar to Ed, takes one for himself, then drags
up a chair to face Ed's.

			DAVE
	...I guess you're wondering what
	Doris was so hot about.

The office is dark, the only illumination coming from the
window onto the bright sales floor behind Big Dave. Ed leans
forward for Dave to light his cigar.

			DAVE
	...These're Havanas. Romeo and
	Juliets. Private stock.

Dave, having lit Ed's cigar, draws nervously on his own.

			DAVE
	...Ed, I...

			ED
	What is it, Dave?

Dave breaks down, weeping. He buries his face in his hands,
the burning cigar in his right hand perilously close to his
hair.

			DAVE
	Ed, I've been weak...

His shoulders heave.

			DAVE
	...I've, uh... I've, uh... thanks.

Ed has taken Dave's cigar so that he won't burn himself.

			DAVE
	...I've, uh... Oh, Jesus. I've been
	carrying on with a married woman.
	Uh, no one you know. And now the, uh--
	what is it they say?--the--the--the
	chickens are coming home to roost.

Ed awkwardly holds the two burning cigars.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			DAVE
	Hell, I, I'm not proud of it. But,
	uh, that's not the worst of it. I
	got a note. A blackmail note. You
	know, come across or everybody knows.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			DAVE
	Well, you know what that would do to
	me.

			ED
	I guess it would be pretty awkward.

			DAVE
	Awkward?! Ann'd throw me out on my
	keister! Hell, it's her family's
	store--*her* store. I serve at the
	indulgence of the goddamn ownership,
	Ed.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			DAVE
	I only work here! And the lady's
	husband would know... Oh, Jesus.

			ED
	How much to they want, Dave?

			DAVE
	$10,000! I don't know what to do,
	Ed. I don't know what I *can* do.
	Even though I know who the sonofabitch
	is.

			ED
	...You know... who *who* is?

			DAVE
	The sonofabitch. The blackmailer.
	It's, uh, it's no one you know. It's
	a businessman from Sacramento. A
	goddamn pansy, Ed. He tried to rope
	me into some crackpot scheme; I heard
	him out and then told him to go to
	hell. And the very next day, the
	very next day, Ed, I get blackmailed
	for the same amount.

			ED
	Would he... it sounds pretty obvious.

			DAVE
	Well, I guess he don't care that
	it's obvious.

			ED
	Mm. How, uh... how did he know that--

			DAVE
	He's staying at the hotel I've gone
	to with, uh, with the lady in
	question. Must've seen us.

Big Dave blows his nose, reaches to take his cigar from Ed.

			DAVE
	...Thanks...

He exhales with a long sigh.

			DAVE
	...Oh, Jesus.

			ED
	...Why don't you just pay him, Dave?

			DAVE
	That's my capitalization on the Annex!
	*My* operation, Ed! Christ almighty.
	That's what I was just talking to
	Doris about, a way of getting the
	money from the store that we could
	hide from Ann.

			ED
	Mm.

			DAVE
	Embezzling, Ed. From my own goddamn
	wife!

He give a tearful chuckle.

			DAVE
	...Doris, she was pretty hot about
	that. God bless her. She doesn't
	know I'm telling you this--she's mad
	enough already. But Jesus, Ed, you're
	the only one I can talk to. I'm, I'm
	sorry I... I better get back to the
	party.

He rises and clears his throat as he rubs the tears from his
face.

			DAVE
	...I look all right?

PULLING ED

He has left the office to wander through an adjacent room
lit only by spill from the party. It is the music department;
pianos and spinets are arranged across the floor.

			ED (V.O.)
	In a way I felt bad for Big Dave. I
	knew the ten grand was going to pinch
	him where it hurt...

Ed sits on a piano stool next to a standing ashtray. He takes
out a cigarette, lights it off his cigar, stubs out the cigar.

			ED (V.O.)
	...But Doris was two-timing me and I
	guess, somewhere, that pinched a
	little too.

His attention is caught by a distant knock of wood. Someone
is raising the key-guard on a piano across the room.

The person can only be seen only obscurely, from three-
quarters behind, through the sales floor's jumble of
haphazardly arranged instruments. The person begins to play.

Ed listens. The piece is slow, sweet, almost a lullaby.

The player, unaware that there is an audience, plays on, and
Ed listens, eyes narrowed against the smoke curling past his
face.

The piece ends.

			ED
	That was pretty.

The player turns, surprised. It is a young woman.

			ED
	...Did you make that up?

			YOUNG WOMAN
	Oh, no. That was written by Mr Ludwig
	van Beethoven.

Ed nods recognition of the name.

			ED
	That was quite something.

			YOUNG WOMAN
	He wrote some beautiful piano sonatas.

			ED
	That was something. I'm Ed Crane.

			YOUNG WOMAN
	I know who you are, Mr Crane.

His look shows surprise.

			YOUNG WOMAN
	...My father used to take me with
	him when he got his hair cut. Walter
	Abundas?

Ed's head tilts back in acknowledgment.

			YOUNG WOMAN
	...I'm Rachel Abundas. Everyone calls
	me Birdy.

			ED
	Sorry, I just didn't remember.

			BIRDY
	Oh, that's all right. You can't be
	expected to remember every skinny
	girl who comes in with her dad.

Ed give a wry smile.

			ED
	...You don't like the music out there?

			BIRDY
	It's OK, I guess. No, I don't really.
	I'm not big on music, ordinarily.

A woman calls sharply from offscreen:

			VOICE
	Ed.

He looks.

Silhouetted in the doorway to the party room is Doris, coat
over her arm, purse in hand.

ED'S CAR

Doris and Ed are driving home.

Doris draws heavily on a cigarette, looking flintily out at
the road.

			DORIS
	...What a knucklehead.

			ED
	Who?

			DORIS
	Dave.

			ED
	How's that?

			DORIS
	Ahh...

She waves angrily.

			DORIS
	...Money problems. He's thinking
	about canceling the Annex.

			ED
	So?

			DORIS
	*That means I don't run Nirdlinger's!*

			ED
	Mm.

They ride in silence for a beat. Doris shakes her head.

			DORIS
	...What a knucklehead.

STREET

As the car roars past and into the distance.

ANOTHER STREET

It is day. We are looking from inside a parked car toward a
hotel entrance. Big Dave emerges from the hotel, gets into a
Packard and drives off.

			ED (V.O.)
	Big Dave did it, though...

Ed, sitting in his car, is watching.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I sent a note telling him where
	to drop the money...

HOTEL HALLWAY

Ed emerges from a stairwell and goes to a standing ashtray
by the elevator.

			ED (V.O.)
	...and he did. He came across.

Ed reaches into the trash hole in the ashtray column and
pulls out a Nirdlinger's bag.

He goes back to the stairwell.

ANOTHER FLOOR

Ed emerges from the stairwell, goes to a door and knocks.

The door swings open.

			CREIGHTON
	Yeah, good, how are ya, come in...

Ed follows him into the room.

			CREIGHTON
	...You bring a check?

			ED
	Cash.

			CREIGHTON
	Cash?!

He gives Ed a look.

			CREIGHTON
	...Usually we do this kind of thing
	with a bank draft. But cash--that's
	fine--it's all the same in the end--
	dough's dough, huh?

			ED
	Sure.

			CREIGHTON
	I got the paperwork here. Partnership
	papers here, they reflect our
	agreement: fifty-fifty on the net, I
	supply professional services, you
	supply the capital. I'll give you a
	receipt on the dough there, huh?

			ED
	Yeah.

			CREIGHTON
	Pretty straightforward, but I don't
	know if you wanna show this stuff to
	a lawyer--

			ED
	It's OK.

			CREIGHTON
	Yeah, screw 'em, huh? Pay 'em to
	tangle it up and then you pay 'em to
	untangle it, what's the point?

He perspires as he counts the money.

			CREIGHTON
	...Just a second here, I'll give you
	a receipt on the, uh... Whoa,
	Nellie... Oh, by the way, we didn't
	talk about this, I, uh, I think I'm
	gonna call the place Tolliver's,
	after me, you know, I didn't think
	you were much interested in, uh--

			ED
	That'll be fine.

			CREIGHTON
	Yeah, good. Lemme just, uh...

He wipes his brow, finishes counting.

			CREIGHTON
	...Yeah, that's it. As per our
	discussion.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

Creighton hands Ed an executed agreement and a receipt.

			CREIGHTON
	Well, there it is. Writ large in
	legal escriture, next step is--

			ED
	Look, uh... Creighton...

He gives Creighton a level stare, smoke pluming from the
cigarette planted in his mouth.

			ED
	...You're not gonna screw me on this?

			CREIGHTON
	*Screw* you--Jesus! Take it to a
	lawyer! No, I insist! This is *dry*
	cleaning, this is not some fly-by-
	night thing here! I must say, I've
	been an entrepreneur for thirteen
	years and I've never--

			ED
	All right.

			CREIGHTON
	And I've never been asked--Look, you
	want the dough back? You know who I
	am! You--

			ED
	OK.

Creighton mops his brow again.

			CREIGHTON
	So, uh... Tolliver's is OK then?

CAR

Ed drives with the usual cigarette in his mouth. Doris sits
next to him. Rural scenery slips by in the background.

			ED (V.O.)
	The next day was Saturday. We were
	going to a reception for Doris' cousin
	Gina, who'd just married a wop vintner
	out near Modesto. Doris didn't much
	feel like going, and I didn't either,
	but, like she said, we had a
	Commitment.

Doris gazes stonily out at the road. At length:

			DORIS
	...I hate wops.

Ed gives her a brief glance. Doris glares at him.

			DORIS
	...What's so damn strange about that?

			ED
	I didn't say a word.

She looks back out at the road.

			DORIS
	...*You* didn't have to grow up with
	'em.

This brings nothing from Ed. Doris shakes her head.

			DORIS
	...Family. Boy.

BY A BARN

Wops in Sunday clothing greet each other around tables piled
with food.

A small child runs up to his mother, yanks on her dress and
screams:

			CHILD
	He's ridin' Garibaldi! Uncle Frankie's
	ridin' Garibaldi!

Surrounded by cheering children, with a jug of wine slung
over his shoulder, Frank is riding an enormous pig. He slaps
at the pig's ass with a large straw hat.

			ED (V.O.)
	That was when she started drinking.

Doris is standing by one of the tables, drinking red wine
from a water glass. Ed stands nearby.

A large woman hugs Doris.

			WOMAN
	How you doin', Doris, you been OK?

			DORIS
	How're you, Constanza?

			WOMAN
	Oh, you know, I got my healt'. And
	how you been, uh...

			ED
	Ed.

			WOMAN
	Ed. How's a business?

			ED
	OK.

			WOMAN
		(to Doris)
	He's a barber, right? It's a good
	trade. So how come you got no kids?

PICNIC TABLE

A group of kids pulls Frank, laughing, by the hand toward a
picnic table set out with pies in a row.

			VOICES
	Uncle Frankie's gotta join! Wait for
	Frankie!

			FRANK
	No, come on, kids--I just ate lunch!

			VOICES
	No, no--Uncle Frankie's gotta join!

An old man stands by with a stopwatch.

			OLD MAN
	Ready...

He clicks the timer.

			OLD MAN
	...Go!

Frank and the line of children plunge their faces into the
line of blueberry pies.

The other picnickers cheer them on.

ELSEWHERE

Ed and Doris approach the innocent-looking young couple
accepting congratulations.

Doris, holding her empty glass, is not a happy drunk:

			DORIS
	'Gratulations, Gina. It's so goddamn
	wonderful.

			ED
	Congratulations, Gina.

			DORIS
	Life is so goddamn wonderful, you
	almost won't believe it.

			ED
	Honey...

			DORIS
	It's just a goddamn bowl of cherries,
	I'm sure.

Ed tries to lead her away.

			ED
	Honey...

Doris calls back over her shoulder:

			DORIS
	Congratulations on your goddamn
	cherries!

As Ed and Doris recede we hear her petulant:

			DORIS
	...Leggo my goddamn elbow.

ELSEWHERE

In a long shot we see Frank at the crest of a hill, staggering
slowly, painfully, toward a tree. In his right hand he
clutches a trophy.

When he reaches the tree he swings his free hand up against
it, leans forward, and vomits.

CAR

Late afternoon, driving home.

Ed drives. Doris sits in the front passenger seat, snoring
lightly. Frank sits in the back seat hugging his trophy to
his chest, eyes closed, murmuring:

			FRANK
	I never wanna see another blueberry
	pie...

Silence.

			FRANK
	...I never even wanna hear those
	words.

Doris moans.

More silence.

			FRANK
	...Don't says those words, Ed.

EXT. BUNGALOW

It is twilight. Ed's coupe is parked in the driveway. He is
just rounding the back of the car to open the passenger-side
door. He pulls Doris from the car, half asleep, half drunk.

INT. BUNGALOW

The door swings open and Ed stumbles in supporting Doris,
who has one arm draped around his neck. He helps her into
the bedroom and eases her onto the bed.

He sits on the edge of the bed and looks down at her.

Shadows from branches just outside wave across her face. She
is breathing through her open mouth; her face is moist with
perspiration.

			ED (V.O.)
	I'd met Doris blind on a double-date
	with a loudmouthed buddy of mine who
	was seeing a friend of hers from
	work. We went to a movie; Doris had
	a flask; we killed it. She could put
	it away. At the end of the night she
	said she liked it I didn't talk much.
	A couple weeks later she suggested--

A harsh jangle from the telephone. Doris moans but does not
wake; Ed rises and does to the living room and picks up the
phone.

			ED
	Yeah.

			VOICE
	Ed, it's Big Dave. I gotta talk to
	you.

			ED
	What--now?

			DAVE
	Please, Ed.

			ED
	But it's...

			DAVE
	Please, Ed.

Ed sighs.

			ED
	Your place?

			DAVE
	I'm at Nirdlinger's. Let yourself
	in.

			ED
	OK.

He hangs up.

He nudges Doris.

			ED
	...Honey.

She murmurs.

			ED
	...Honey.

She rolls away and burrows into a pillow.

Ed opens her purse and pokes through it.

NIRDLINGER'S

We are looking over Ed's shoulder as he hesitantly swings
open a door.

It reveals Big Dave's office, quiet and rather dark.

A down-facing banker's lamp on the desk illuminates Big Dave's
hands on the desktop.

			ED
	...Dave?

			DAVE
	Come on in.

Ed enters, sits.

An awkward silence.

			ED
	...What's the problem, Big Dave?

Another silence.

			DAVE
	...I'm ruined.

His hands writhe on the desktop.

			DAVE
	...It ruined me. This money. No annex.
	I'm all shot to hell.

			ED
	So you paid the guy?

Big Dave stares without speaking.

After a long beat:

			DAVE
	...What kind of man *are* you?

			ED
	...Huh?

			DAVE
	What kind of man *are* you?

			ED
	Big Dave--

			DAVE
	I'd understand if you'd walked in
	here. Socked me in the nose. Whatever.
	I deserved it.

			ED
	I, uh...

			DAVE
	I'm not proud of what I did. But
	*you*.

No one talks.

Big Dave sighs.

			DAVE
	...Yeah, I paid up. As you well know.
	And then I went and found the pansy.

He looks at Ed.

			DAVE
	...Got nothin' to say, huh? Yeah,
	well, you already know the story. I
	didn't, I hadda beat it out of the
	pansy. *Your* money.

No response.

			DAVE
	...What kind of man *are* you?

Big Dave rises.

			DAVE
	...Well.

He crosses around the desk and adds, sadly:

			DAVE
	...I'm all shot to hell.

Ed starts to rise, but Big Dave is already looming over him.
Big Dave bear-hugs him and then spins him into a wall.

Ed hits the wall and bounces off, back into Big Dave. Big
Dave wallops him in the stomach. Ed doubles over.

			DAVE
	...What kind of man *are* you?

Big Dave hurls him against the desk, then slams his face
against the desktop. Ed's hands scrabble at the top of the
desk as Big Dave grabs him by the neck and lifts. He slams
him face-first into the window between the office and the
dark sales floor.

Ed twists around, the back of his head now pressed against
the glass. Big Dave's hands lock around his throat.

Big Dave sweats and strains.

A crack shoots up the pane of glass.

Ed's hand sweeps up and plunges something into Big Dave's
neck.

Big Dave grunts and turns away, gurgling. His hands go up to
his throat.

Ed watches. He is holding Big Dave's cigar trimmer.

Big Dave takes a couple of deliberate steps backward, his
head twisted away.

He falls back, tripped up by a chair, which spins him face-
down onto the floor.

Big Dave crawls away face-down across the floor, on his knees
but with his hands still at his throat. His face and knees
awkwardly support his weight as if he were pushing something
across the floor with his nose.

He reaches a corner but still pushes forward, wedging himself
in, legs still scraping away as if to push himself through
the wall. Blood is pooling out from under him.

Big Dave's legs are still working. His gurgling continues.

Ed watches.

Big Dave's legs start to move furiously. They convulse. His
whole body shakes as he goes into shock.

Ed watches.

Big Dave stops shaking. He remains wedged awkwardly into the
corner, face-down. He is still.

The room is very quiet.

Ed looks down at his hands.

He walks across the room, pushes the door open and walks
across the darkened sales floor.

EXT. STORE

Ed walks to his car. He does not look about, is not
particularly furtive. He gets into the car. He starts the
ignition.

EXT. HOUSE

He pulls up, sits motionless for a beat. Gradually, something
draws his attention; he cocks his head and looks up through
the windshield.

A branch creaks and sways in the breeze.

INT. HOUSE

Ed gets into bed next to Doris. He stares at the ceiling.
Wind rustles outside.

The shadow of a branch on the ceiling nods in time with the
wind.

He looks at Doris.

Her face is still lightly sheened with sweat but her mouth
is closed now, her breathing more peaceful. The leafy shadows
play over her face.

			ED (V.O.)
	...It was only a couple of weeks
	after we met that Doris suggested
	getting married. I said, Don't you
	wanna get to know me more? She said,
	Why, does it get better? She looked
	at me like I was a dope, which I've
	never really minded from her. And
	she had a point, I guess. We knew
	each other as well then as now...

He is gazing at her.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Anyway, well enough.

Sound and image face.

BARBERSHOP

The next day.

Ed cuts hair, a cigarette between his lips.

			FRANK
	Holy-moly, do I got a headache.

Frank is giving a haircut as well.

			FRANK
	...How you today, Ed?

			ED
	OK.

			FRANK
	You don't got a headache?

			ED
	...Nah.

			FRANK
	Damn, I got a headache to beat the
	band.

LATER

Ed sits in his chair, hands folded in his lap, head tilted
back, eyes closed.

We hold on Ed as we hear a clipper buzzing and Frank talking
to someone in his chair.

			FRANK
	Ya can't pump it. Did ya pump it?
	That'll just flood it.

			CUSTOMER
	Ya gotta pump it. Ya can't just hold
	it down. *That'll* flood it.

			FRANK
	You crazy? You pumped it?

			CUSTOMER
	Well, ya can't hold it down.

There is the jingle of the door bell. Ed opens his eyes.

Two men in fedoras are entering.

Ed starts to rise.

			MAN 1
	Ed Crane?

			ED
	Right.

			MAN 1
	Come on outside.

			ED
	Sure.

OUTSIDE

The two men are staring at the sidewalk, smoking, hesitant
to speak. One of them finally comes up with an icebreaker:

			MAN 2
	...So you're a barber, huh?

			ED
	That's right.

			MAN 1
	I'm Officer Persky. This is Krebs.

Ed nods toward their car:

			ED
	...We goin'?

			KREBS
	Huh? No.

Beat.

			PERSKY
	...Cigarette?

Ed holds up one hand with its smoking cigarette.

			PERSKY
	Right. Uh... Pete's got some news
	for you.

His partner gives Persky a dirty look.

			KREBS
	...Look, pal, it's a tough break,
	but, uh... well damnit, your wife's
	been pinched.

			PERSKY
	They sent us to tell ya.

			ED
	Huh?

			KREBS
	They sent us to tell ya. We pulled
	the detail.

			ED
	My *wife*?

			PERSKY
	Yeah, uh, they brung her to the county
	jail, uh...

			KREBS
	Homicide.

			PERSKY
	Well, embezzlement. And homicide. A
	guy named David Brewster. He's, uh...
	He's the decedent.

			ED
	I don't understand.

			KREBS
	He's the dead guy.

Ed stares at him.

			PERSKY
	...Yeah, it's a tough break.

			KREBS
	Visiting ends at five. Too late today.
	You can see her tomorrow.

			PERSKY
	Sorry, pal. They sent us to tell ya.

He shakes his head.

			PERSKY
	...Crap detail.

RESIDENTIAL STREET

It is evening. Ed is pulling up to a house on a tree-lined
street similar to his own. He gets out of his car and goes
up the walk, and a man sitting on the porch swing holds up a
hand of greeting.

			MAN
	'Lo, Ed.

			ED
	Hello, Walter.

He steps up on the porch.

The man is holding a tumbler of whiskey and ice that clinks
as the swing moves. His skin glistens with drinker's sweat,
and he has the slightly expansive manner of someone who's
put at least a couple away.

			WALTER
	Have a seat.

Ed glances around but the swing is the only seat. He sits
next to Walter.

			ED
	Thanks. Thanks for seeing me, at
	home.

			WALTER
	Oh, hell. Drink?

			ED
	No thanks.

			WALTER
	Sure you don't need one?

			ED
	I'm fine.

			WALTER
	OK. Boy. Jesus!

			ED
	Yeah. What do I, uh...

			WALTER
	Well, of course, I, uh, it's out of
	my league, criminal stuff. I do, uh,
	probate, real estate, title search,
	uh... I'd be absolutely worthless,
	something like this. Absolutely
	worthless.

He belches.

			WALTER
	'Scuse me, just finished dinner. Um.
	Frankly, Doris'd be better off with
	the county defender.

			ED
	He a good man?

			WALTER
	Bert's OK, sure, he's a good man. I
	won't kid you though, Ed, nobody
	around here has any experience with
	this kind of, er... And I hear they're
	bringing a prosecutor up from
	Sacramento. Capital offense. Taking
	it seriously... Hmm...

			ED
	So--

			WALTER
	Taking it seriously.

			ED
	So, who should I--

The front door opens and someone speaks through the screen:

			VOICE
	You want any coffee, Dad?

Ed looks around at the voice.

			VOICE
	Oh, hello, Mr Crane.

She steps out: it is Birdy Abundas.

Ed rises, and they awkwardly shake hands.

			ED
	Hello, Rachel.

			BIRDY
	I'm so sorry... I was sorry to hear.

			ED
	Yeah. Thanks.

			WALTER
	Coffee, Ed?

			ED
	I'm fine. Thanks.

			WALTER
	No thanks, honey.

			BIRDY
	OK. Nice to see you, Mr Crane.

They watch her go back in.

			WALTER
	Damnit! She's a good kid.

Ed nods.

A beat.

			ED
	...So, uh, who should I--

			WALTER
	Well, there's Lloyd Garroway in San
	Francisco. Probity--you know, no one
	ever said anything iffy about Lloyd
	Garroway. Conservative. Jury might
	like that. Might like that here.

He takes a sip of his drink.

			WALTER
	...Probity.

			ED
	Uh-huh. Is he the best then, for,
	uh...

			WALTER
	Well, the best, the money-is-no-object
	best, for a criminal case, any lawyer
	would tell you Freddy Riedenschneider.
	Out of Sacramento. 'Course, I don't
	know how you're fixed for money.

			ED
	Uh-huh. He's the, uh...

			WALTER
	Yeah, the best.

He sniffs.

			WALTER
	...Yeah, Riedenschneider. Wish I
	could tell you more. Hell, I wish I
	could handle it myself. But I'd be
	absolutely worthless for this kind
	of thing.

He takes a musing sip.

			WALTER
	...Criminal matter? Freddy
	Riedenschneider.

He thinks.

			WALTER
	...No question about it.

ED AT A TABLE

It is a long table with chairs stretching down both sides,
one side for prisoners, the other for visitors. The room is
empty except for a guard and an elderly woman who sits across
from a younger woman at the far end of the table. The younger
woman, in a prison smock, is wailing. The elderly woman is
holding her hand.

Ed sits across from an empty chair, clutching a flower-printed
toiletries kit. There are echoing voices suggesting large
spaces outside the room.

He sits and waits.

Approaching footsteps.

The door opens. A large prison matron steps aside to let
Doris enter.

Doris looks lost in a prison-issue jumper that is too big
for her. Her hair is uncurled and bedraggled. Not only is
she not made-up, she has a couple of bruises and a cut on
her lip.

As Ed stands, she gives a hollow look around.

			ED
	Honey... I brought your make-up.

She looks at him.

			DORIS
	Honey.

			ED
	How are you?

She shrugs.

			DORIS
	I don't know what's going on. I--

			ED
	What happened to you?

She shakes her head.

			DORIS
	...I don't know what happened to Big
	Dave. I know some of it.
	Irregularities in my books, they
	said. Can I explain it.

			ED
	You don't have to--

			DORIS
	I helped him cook the books, Ed. I
	did do that.

			ED
	You don't have to tell them anything.
	We're getting you a lawyer.

Doris doesn't seem to be listening. She sighs:

			DORIS
	I know all about that. But I don't
	know how much to tell them.

			ED
	Don't tell 'em anything. We're getting
	you Freddy Riedenschneider.

Doris finally looks at him.

			DORIS
	Should I... should I tell you why?

			ED
	You don't have to tell me anything.

Her gaze drifts away again. She notices the sobbing woman.

			DORIS
	Jesus Christ.

Doris looks around and laughs.

			DORIS
	...My books used to be perfect. Anyone
	could open them up, make sense of
	the whole goddamn store.

			ED
	Honey...

			DORIS
	I knew we'd pay for it.

BARBERSHOP

Ed sits in a waiting-customer chair, wearing his smock. Frank
paces in front of him. He smacks a fist into his palm.

			FRANK
	This is what family is for, Ed! This
	is when ya come together!

			ED
	Yeah.

			FRANK
	Close ranks! Goddamnit! Those sons
	of bitches!

			ED
	Frank, uh, you know I'll try to
	contribute, but, uh--Freddy
	Riedenschneider--

			FRANK
	I don't care what it costs! This is
	when ya come together!

			ED
	That's very generous.

			FRANK
	The hell with it, Eddie!

BANK

Ed and Frank sit waiting on a bench in the high-vaulted lobby.
Frank looks uncomfortable in an ill-fitting suit. As they
wait, he looks nervously about.

In a hushed voice:

			FRANK
	They're just people like you and me,
	Ed. Remember that.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			FRANK
	Just people. They gotta put up the
	big front so that people will trust
	them with their money. This is why
	the big lobby, Ed. But they put their
	pants on one leg at a time. Just
	like you and me.

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			FRANK
	They too use the toilet, Ed. In spite
	of appearances. And their money will
	be secured by the barbershop. A rock.
	A *rock*, the barbershop. I mean,
	how long has *this* place been here?

A door opens. A conservatively dressed man of late middle
age emerges.

			MAN
	Mr Raffo?

Frank hops to his feet.

			FRANK
	Yes, sir.

			MAN
	Could you come with me please?

			FRANK
	Sure. Can Ed come too?

The man looks dubiously at Ed.

			MAN
	Mr...?

			ED
	Crane. Ed Crane.

			MAN
	You also have an interest in the
	securing property?

			FRANK
	He's a barber.

			MAN
	Ah.

			FRANK
	Second chair.

			MAN
	Not an owner.

			FRANK
	No, he's family, he's my brother-in-
	law.

			MAN
	Ah-hah. It would be best if he waited
	here.

He goes to the glass-paned doorway to his office, Frank
trailing dejectedly behind. They enter, the door closes, and
we hear their muffled voices from inside, the sense of the
words lost.

Ed sits and watches the two men perform their pantomime of
business: Frank nervously reads documents with one hand cupped
to his forehead for concentration; the banker passes
successive documents across his desk with a word of
explanation for each as Frank signs.

Ed takes out a cigarette and lights it, watching impassively.

			ED (V.O.)
	The barbershop. Doris and Frank's
	father had worked thirty years to
	own it free and clear. Now it got
	signed over to the bank, and the
	bank signed some money over to Frank,
	and Frank signed the money over...

TRACKING POINT OF VIEW

It is midday. We are tracking along the sidewalk toward a
long cream-colored Packard parked at the curb. A couple of
kids have stopped to peer into the car's windows; the car is
no doubt the fanciest in town.

			ED (V.O.)
	...to Freddy Riedenschneider, who
	got into town two days later...

Ed, coming up the sidewalk, looks up at the storefront: a
restaurant with a large window with a plush red drape that
obscures the interior. Gilt lettering on the window spells
out "DaVinci's".

			ED (V.O.)
	...and told me to meet him at
	DaVinci's for lunch.

TRACKING POINT OF VIEW

Inside the restaurant. We are tracking toward a table whose
lone occupant sits with his back to us holding open a menu
as he orders from a facing waitress:

			MAN
	...not fried, poached. Three of 'em
	for two minutes. A strip steak medium
	rare, flapjacks, potatoes, tomato
	juice, and plenty of hot coffee.

He flips the menu over.

			MAN
	...Do you have prairie oysters?

			WAITRESS
	No, sir.

			MAN
	Then bring me a fruit cocktail while
	I wait.

He looks up at Ed.

			MAN
	...You're Ed Crane?

			ED
	Yeah--

			MAN
	Barber, right? I'm Freddy
	Riedenschneider. Hungry? They tell
	me the chow's OK here. I made some
	inquiries.

			ED
	No thanks, I--

The waitress sets a fruit cocktail in front of
Riedenschneider.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Look, I don't wanna waste your time
	so I'll eat while we talk. Ya mind?
	*You* don't mind. So while I'm in
	town I'll be staying at the Hotel
	Metropole, the Turandot Suite. Yeah,
	it's goofy, the suites're named after
	operas; room's OK though, I poked
	around. I'm having 'em hold it for
	me on account of I'll be back and
	forth. In addition to my retainer,
	you're paying hotel, living expenses,
	secretarial, private eye if we need
	to make inquiries, headshrinker should
	we go that way. We'll talk about
	appeals if, as and when. For right
	now, has she confessed?

			ED
	No. Of course not. She didn't do it.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Good! That helps. Not that she didn't
	do it, that she didn't confess. Of
	course, there's ways to deal with a
	confession, but that's good!--one
	less thing to think about. Now.
	Interview. I'm seeing her tomorrow.
	You should be there. Three o'clock.
	One more thing: you keep your mouth
	shut. I get the lay of the land, I
	tell *you* what to say. No talking
	out of school. What's out of school?
	Everything's out of school. I do the
	talking; you keep your trap shut.
	I'm an attorney, you're a barber;
	you don't know anything. Understood?

			ED
	...OK.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Good! Any questions give me a ring--
	Turandot suite; if I'm out leave a
	message. You sure you don't want
	anything? No?

He points a finger at Ed.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...You're OK, pal. You're OK, she's
	OK. Everything's gonna be hunky-dory.

The waitress puts down a plate of steak and eggs.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...And the flapjacks, honey.

DRIVING POINT OF VIEW

We are looking at pedestrians on the sidewalk through the
windshield of a moving car.

			ED (V.O.)
	All going about their business. It
	seemed like I knew a secret--a bigger
	one even then what had really happened
	to Big Dave, something none of them
	knew...

On Ed, driving.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Like I had made it to the outside,
	somehow, and they were all still
	struggling, way down below.

ED IN BED

Arms folded behind his head, staring at the ceiling.

On the ceiling is the moving shadow of a tree limb.

A distant, muffled knock.

Ed turns his head.

FRONT DOOR

Ed opens it as he finishes cinching a bathrobe.

The woman waiting on the front porch is dressed in black: a
black dress and a black veiled hat that is too big for her
bird-like frame.

Wind rustles in the trees behind her.

She stares at Ed.

			ED
	Ann.

For the first time, we hear her speak, in a low, tremulous
voice:

			ANN
	Hello, Ed.

			ED
	Ann. Will you come in?

She shakes her head.

			ANN
	...No, No, it's very late.

Ed nods.

After an uncomfortable beat, through which she continues to
stare:

			ED
	...I'm so sorry about your loss.

			ANN
	Yes. Thank you.

			ED
	Of course, you know, Doris had nothing
	to do with it. Nothing at all.

She lays a black-gloved hand on his arm.

			ANN
	Oh, I know. Don't worry, Ed. I came
	to tell you...

			ED
	Yes, Ann?

			ANN
	And you should tell Doris...

She falls silent. The trees behind her rustle.

She gives a wary look back. Then, confidingly, to Ed:

			ANN
	...You know how Big Dave loved
	camping. And the out-of-doors.

Ed is puzzled:

			ED
	Yes?

			ANN
	We went camping last summer. In
	Eugene, Oregon. *Outside* of Eugene,
	Ed.

She gives him a searching look, hoping, it seems, that he
will find this significant.

			ED
	...Yes?

			ANN
	At night, there were lights--we both
	saw them. We never told anyone,
	outside of our official report.

			ED
	Ann--

			ANN
	A spacecraft. I saw the creatures.
	They led Big Dave onto the craft. He
	never told anyone what they did,
	outside of his report. Of course he
	told *me*. No one else.

			ED
	Ann--

			ANN
	The government knows. I cannot repeat
	it to you. But this thing goes deep,
	Ed. This was not your wife. I goes
	deep, and involves the government.
	There is a great deal of fear. You
	know how certain circles would find
	it--the knowledge--a threat. They
	try to limit it, and--

			ED
	Ann, will you come in, sit down,
	maybe have a drink?

			ANN
	Sometimes knowledge is a curse, Ed.
	After this happened, things changed.
	Big Dave... he never touched me again.

Ed says nothing.

She touches his arm.

			ANN
	...Tell Doris not to worry. I know
	it wasn't her. Perhaps this will
	bring it out, finally. Perhaps now
	it will all come out.

She turns and heads down the walk.

Her high-heeled footsteps echo on the walk, then the sidewalk,
then are lost in the rustle of leaves.

Ed watches her go: a small black figure, growing smaller.

PRISON MEETING ROOM

It is an unadorned room with a simple wooden table and chairs.
One high window lets in a shaft of sunlight.

Ed and Doris sit at the table; Freddy Riedenschneider stands
to one side staring up at the high window, hands dug into
his pockets.

All three are motionless for a long beat. Finally:

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...It stinks.

			DORIS
	But it's true.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	I don't care it's true, it's not
	true; it stinks. You say he was being
	blackmailed; by who? You don't know.
	For having an affair; with who? You
	don't know. Did anyone else know
	about it? Probably not; you don't
	know.

			ED
	I knew about it. Big Dave told me
	about it, and the spot he was putting
	himself in by getting the money.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Terrific. Your husband backs you up.
	That's terrific.

He starts pacing.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...You've gotta give me something to
	work with. Freddy Riedenschneider is
	good, but he's not a magician. He
	can't just wave his little wand in
	the air and make a plausible defense
	materialize. Look. Look at what the
	other side is gonna run at us. They
	got the company books, prepared by
	you--*cooked* by you--that's Motive.
	They got a murder scene *you* had
	access to. That's Opportunity. They
	got that little trimmer thing he was
	stabbed in the throat with--a *dame's*
	weapon--

			ED
	It was Big Dave's.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	--don't interrupt me--that's Means.
	They got a fine upstanding pillar of
	the business community as a victim,
	and then they got *you*, a disgruntled
	number-juggling underling who on the
	day in question was drunk as a skunk
	and whose alibi for the time in
	question is being passed out at home,
	alone.

			ED
	*I* was with her.

Riedenschneider gives him a hard look.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Like I say, it stinks.

Another long pause.

			ED
	...I killed him.

Riedenschneider eyes him. Wheels start turning.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	OK, we forget the blackmail. *You*
	killed him. How come?

			ED
	He and Doris... were having an affair.

Doris eyes him. His manner does not reveal anything.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	OK, how did you know?

			ED
	I... just knew. A husband knows.

Riedenschneider rolls his eyes.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Will anyone else say they knew?

			ED
	I don't know. I don't think so.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	How did you get into the store?

			ED
	I took Doris's keys.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Will anyone say they saw you there?
	On your way there? In there? On your
	was back?

			ED
	...I don't think so.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Will anyone corroborate and goddamn
	part of your story at all?

Ed returns Riedenschneider's stare. Riedenschneider resumes
pacing.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Come on, people. You can't help
	each other like that. Let's be
	realistic now. Let's look at our
	options. Well, frankly, I don't *see*
	any options.

A nod of the head indicates Doris:

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...I cannot present Story A.

Another nod indicates Ed:

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...I cannot present Story B. I could
	plead you for a nutcase but you look
	too composed. I could offer a guilty
	plea and in return they don't give
	you the juice, but I don't think you
	want to spend the rest of your life
	in Chino and I know you didn't hire
	Freddy Riedenschneider to hold your
	hand at a sentencing hearing. Hell,
	you could've gotten Lloyd Garroway
	for that. No, we're not giving up
	yet; you hired Freddy Riedenschneider,
	it means you're *not* throwing in
	the towel. I litigate, I don't
	capitulate. All right, no options,
	we gotta think. All right, we go
	back to the blackmail thing. It
	titillates, it's open ended...

His pacing becomes more animated.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...And it makes *him* the bad guy--
	ya dig around, ya never know,
	something unsavory from his past, he
	approaches you to help with the money,
	it's too late, his past comes back
	to haunt him, who's to say...

He is heading for the door.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Yeah. OK. Forget the jealous
	husband thing, that's silly; we're
	going with the blackmail. I'll be in
	touch.

The door slams.

HOTEL LOBBY

The camera drifts in toward the reception desk. Ed talks to
the clerk behind the desk, but the scene plays silently; we
hear only Ed's narration.

			ED (V.O.)
	Of course, there was *one* person
	who could confirm Doris's story, or
	plenty of it: the dry-cleaning
	pansy...

The desk clerk is shaking his head.

			ED (V.O.)
	...But he'd left the hotel, skipped
	out on his bill...

HALLWAY

It is a rooming-house hallway. A stern middle-aged woman is
on the hall telephone. This too plays silently under the
narration.

			ED (V.O.)
	He'd also disappeared from the
	residence he gave me...

ED'S LIVING ROOM

We are drifting in toward Ed, who nods at the telephone and
then cradles it. He stares down at the business card he holds.

			ED (V.O.)
	...owing two month's rent. How could
	I have been so stupid. Handing over
	$10,000. For a piece of paper. And
	the man gone... like a ghost...

PULLING BACK FROM ED

In a different living room. He sits on a sofa, hands clasped
behind his head, listening. For the first time, as the voice-
over continues, we hear atmosphere from the scene: piano
music.

			ED (V.O.)
	...disappeared into thin air,
	vaporized, like the Nips at Nagasaki.
	Gone now. All gone. The money gone.
	Big Dave gone. Doris going. How could
	I have been so stupid?

The continuing pull-back reveals Walter Abundas on a nearby
chair, also listening as Birdy plays.

Walter holds a drink in one hand; he is nodding; his eyelids
droop. As the piano piece reaches its mournful conclusion
his chin alights on his chest, his eyelids tremble closed,
and he starts lightly to snore.

BARBERSHOP

The distinctive buzz of electric hairclippers bangs in at
the cut. Ed and Frank stand behind their respective chairs,
administering haircuts.

The customer in Ed's chair is in white shirtsleeves that do
not hide rolls of fat. He has a hot towel over his face that
does not slow his speech, although it does muffle it to some
extent:

			CUSTOMER
	She makes this stuff, she calls it
	gatto, it's got egg in there, it's
	got sugar, it's got--it's cake,
	basically, except she calls it gatto.
	Like if you don't call it cake maybe
	you won't put on any weight, like I
	need to eat gatto, you know what I'm
	saying? This stuff, if I've had a
	square meal, I've had my steak and
	potatoes, I can just have another
	cup of coffee afterward, I won't ask
	for the desert if it's not there...

His voice turns into a drone under the narration.

			ED (V.O.)
	Sooner or later everyone needs a
	haircut...

			CUSTOMER
	Got the recipe from a magazine,
	woman's magazine...

			ED (V.O.)
	We were working for the bank now. We
	kept cutting the hair, trying to
	stay afloat, make the payments, tread
	water, day by day, day by day...

CRANE DOWN

Inside a courtroom we boom down toward the defendant's table,
the fat customer's drone turning into the drone of the bailiff
reading an indictment. Doris stands next to Freddy
Riedenschneider.

			ED (V.O.)
	Most people think someone's accused
	of a crime, they haul 'em in and
	bring 'em to trial, but it's not
	like that, it's not that fast. The
	wheels of justice turn slow...

			BAILIFF
	...did willfully and with malice
	aforethought take the life of one
	David Allen Brewster, a human being...

			ED (V.O.)
	They have an arraignment, and then
	the indictment, and they entertain
	motions to dismiss, and postpone,
	and change the venue, and alter this
	and that and the other. They empanel
	a jury, which brings more motions,
	and they set a trial date and then
	change the date, and then often as
	not they'll change it again.

			BAILIFF
	What say you to these charges?

Our boom down has ended close on Doris. We hear Freddy
Riedenschneider, off:

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	We plead not guilty, your honor.

BARBERSHOP

Booming down toward the fat man.

			ED (V.O.)
	And through all of it we cut the
	hair.

			CUSTOMER
	I say, Honey, if you're gonna make a
	cobbler, make a little bit of cobbler,
	don't put a whole pan in front of me
	and tell me it's not gonna be any
	good when it's cold...

OPERA SINGERS

We are panning photographic portraits of opera singers in
character, wearing the wardrobe of different eras, armies,
dukedoms, and boudoirs, and displaying the heights and depths
of various emotions, their mouths stretched wide in song. We
pan off the pictures to discover that we are in a hotel room,
floating in toward a bed on which Freddy Riedenschneider, a
mask over his eyes, slumbers.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Meanwhile, Freddy Riedenschneider
	slept at the Metropole...

RESTAURANT

Tracking in toward Freddy Riedenschneider, who sits twirling
spaghetti with a fork against a spoon.

			ED (V.O.)
	...and shoveled it in at DaVinci's.

LATERAL TRACK

From inside a car. Pedestrians bustle along a sidewalk. Among
them scurries a weedy little man who has one hand clamped to
the crown of his hat to keep it in place in a stiff wind.

			ED (V.O.)
	He'd brought in a private investigator
	from Sacramento...

LATERAL TRACK

Moving the opposite way. A different day, but again a crowd
moves along the sidewalk, and among them the little man
scuttles in the opposite direction, hand still raised to his
hat, his forearm and the tilt of his head largely obscuring
his face.

			ED (V.O.)
	...to nose around into Big Dave's
	past.

PUSHING IN TO ED

In the Abundas living room again, again listening to Birdy
at the piano, but now the two of them are alone.

			ED (V.O.)
	I found myself more and more going
	over to the Abundas's. It was a
	routine we fell into, most every
	evening. I even went when Walter was
	away on his research trips. He was a
	genealogist, had traced back his
	side of the family seven generations,
	his late wife's, eight. It seemed
	like a screwy hobby. But then maybe
	all hobbies are. Maybe Walter found
	something there, in the old county
	courthouses, hospital file rooms,
	city archives, property rolls,
	registries, something maybe like
	what I found listening to Birdy play.
	Some kind of escape. Some kind of
	peace...

The piano music ends in a sustain which begins to fade, but
then is snapped by a sharp clang.

PRISON DOOR SWINGS OPEN

We are pushing into the high-windowed prison meeting room.
None of its three occupants is moving.

The tableau consists of Doris staring down at the table; the
private investigator sitting on a straightbacked chair tipped
back against a wall, his arms folded across his chest, his
fedora pushed back on his head, a toothpick clamped between
his teeth; and Freddy Riedenschneider, standing, hands clasped
behind his back, gazing with a distant smile up into the
shaft of light that slants through the high window.

A warder shuts the door behind Ed.

Doris and the private investigator turn to note his entrance;
Riedenschneider does not.

Ed pulls out a chair across from Doris, clasps his hands on
top of hers.

			ED
	'Lo, honey.

She looks at his hands on top of hers.

A long beat.

Still gazing up into the shaft of light, Freddy
Riedenschneider announces:

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...They got this guy, in Germany.
	Fritz something-or-other. Or is it.
	Maybe it's Werner. Anyway, he's got
	this theory, you wanna test something,
	you know, scientifically--how the
	planets  go round the sun, what
	sunspots are made of, why the water
	comes out of the tap--well, you gotta
	look at it. But sometimes, you look
	at it, your looking *changes* it. Ya
	can't know the reality of what
	happened, or what *would've* happened
	if you hadden a stuck in your goddamn
	schnozz. So there *is* no 'what
	happened.' Not in any sense that we
	can grasp with our puny minds. Because
	our minds... out minds get in the
	way. Looking at something changes
	it. They call it the 'Uncertainty
	Principle.' Sure, it sounds screwy,
	but even Einstein says the guy's on
	to something.

His gaze up at the window breaks. He strolls around the room,
still smiling.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Science. Perception. Reality.
	Doubt...

He stops to examine a bur on his fingernail.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Reasonable doubt. I'm sayin',
	sometimes, the more you look, the
	less you really know. It's a fact. A
	proved fact. In a way, it's the only
	fact there is. This heinie even wrote
	it out in numbers.

He looks up at the private detective.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Burns?

With a slight weight shift, Burns tips his chair so that its
front legs slap down onto the floor. He fishes a small
notebook from an inside pocket.

His boredom is profound; his only concession to performance
is to move the toothpick from one side of his mouth to the
other where, perhaps, it will less inhibit speech.

			BURNS
	Subject: David Allen Brewster. Born:
	Cincinnati, 1911. Father: insurance
	salesman; mother: homemaker. One
	year Case Western University on
	football scholarship. Flunks out.
	1931: retail appliance salesman in
	Barnhoff's department store,
	Cincinnati. 1933: meets Ann
	Nirdlinger, married later that year,
	moves here. 1935: arrested on an
	assault complaint; complainant, an
	organizer for the ILGWU, has a broken
	nose, couple of ribs, wife's family
	intercedes, some kind of settlement,
	charges dropped. 1936: another assault
	beef, bar altercation--

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Yeah, yeah, couple of fistfights. Go
	to his service record.

Burns looks at him sourly. He flips a couple of pages.

			BURNS
	...Inducted March 15, 1942, assigned
	to fifth fleet US Navy, petty officer
	first class, serves in clerical
	capacity in US naval shipyards in
	San Diego, one fistfight broken up
	by MPs, no court martial, honorable
	discharge May 8, 1945. Since then
	he's been clean.

Riedenschneider nods, smiling.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Thank you, Burns, get lost.

Burns pockets his notebook, adjusts his hat, jams his hands
into his pockets, and ambles out of the room.

The slam of the door leaves quiet.

At length:

			ED
	...So?

Riedenschneider's fixed smile now fades.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	So? *So?!* This could be your dolly's
	ticket out of the deathhouse, so!

Ed and Doris look at each other.

			ED
	...I don't get it.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Look, chum, this is a guy, from what
	I understand, told everybody he was
	a war hero, right? Island hopping,
	practically liberated the Pacific
	all by himself with a knife in one
	hand and a gun in the other and twenty
	yards of Jap guts between his teeth.

			ED
	Yeah.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	And now it turns out this dope spent
	the war sitting on his ass in some
	boatyard in San Diego. You asked for
	blackmail, let me give you blackmail:
	Mr Hale-Fellow-Well-Met, about to
	open his own business here, has been
	lying to everybody in this town for
	the last four years, probably
	including half the people sitting on
	that jury. Well, it finally caught
	up with him--these dopes, it always
	does; someone threatened to spill
	it. Somebody knew his dirty little
	secret, just like your wife says.
	They called, they demanded money...

He is looking at Doris.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Did Big Dave mention that it was
	something about his war service? I
	don't know, I wasn't there, *you'll*
	have to tell *us*. Maybe he specified,
	maybe he didn't; I'm not putting
	words in your mouth; the point is
	that this liar, this cynical
	manipulator, this man who through
	his lies sneered and belittled the
	sacrifice and heroism of all our
	boys who *did* serve and bleed and
	puke and die on foreign shores, and
	who made a fool out of this entire
	town, turns to *you* to help him out
	of his jam. Fat-assed sonofabitch!

			ED
	So... who... who actually--

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Who? *Who?!* I don't know who! But
	the point is that if Mr Prosecutor
	over there had devoted half the time
	he's spent persecuting *this* woman
	to even the most cursory investigation
	of this schmoe's past, then we might
	*know* who! But we can't *know* what
	really happened! Because of Fritz,
	or Werner, or whatever the hell his
	name is! And because Me Prosecutor
	is *also* a lazy fat-assed sonofabitch
	who decided it's easier to victimize
	your wife! Because it's easier *not*
	to look! Because the more you look,
	the less you know! But the beauty of
	it is, we don't *gotta* know! We
	just gotta show that, goddamnit,
	*they* don't know. Reasonable doubt.
	Science. The atom. *You* explain it
	to me. Go ahead. Try.

He chuckles as he heads for the door.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...Yeah, Freddy Riedenschneider sees
	daylight. We got a real shot at this,
	folks. Let's not get cocky.

The door shuts behind him.

Doris stares down at the table, as at the head of the scene.

A silent beat; a smile starts to tug at the corners of her
mouth.

			ED
	Honey...?

The smile twitches, and then stays. Doris starts to laugh.
Ed frowns.

			ED
	...Honey?

Her laughter builds, almost to hysteria. Finally it subsides
and, still staring at the tabletop and smiling, she shakes
her head:

			DORIS
	What a dope.

ABUNDAS LIVING ROOM

Ed sits listening as Birdy plays. She talks, after a moment,
her eyes on the sheet music:

			BIRDY
	He was deaf when he wrote this.

			ED
	Who?

			BIRDY
	Beethoven. He created it, and yet he
	never actually heard it. I suppose
	he heard it all in his head, somehow.

Over her continued playing:

			ED (V.O.)
	So maybe Riedenschneider could get
	Doris off. Maybe it would all work
	out. And I thought--I hoped--that
	maybe there was a way out for me as
	well...

A SIGN

The cardboard sign on an easel says "COME ONE, COME ALL /
PETALUMA HIGH SCHOOL TALENT SHOW / WEDNESDAY APRIL 29, 1949,
8:00 P.M.

			ED (V.O.)
	The girl had talent, anyone could
	see that. And *she* wasn't some fly-
	by-nighter, she was just a good clean
	kid...

SCHOOL GYMNASIUM

A young man holding a saxophone is just leaving the makeshift
stage to a smattering of applause. Birdy walks out to the
baby grand that has been set out center stage.

			ED (V.O.)
	...If she was going to have a career
	she'd need a responsible adult looking
	out for her...

We track up the rows of folding chairs that have been set
out on the gym floor for the audience of students and parents,
many of whom fan themselves with programs. We come to rest
on Ed.

			ED (V.O.)
	...some kind of... manager. She'd
	have contracts to look at, be going
	on tours, playing on the radio maybe.
	I could help her sort through all of
	that, without charging her an arm
	and a leg, just enough to get by...

Birdy begins to play for the quietly attentive audience.

EXT. SCHOOL

Ed is among the crowd streaming from the gym into the warm
summer night. He looks around the parking lot.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I could afford to charge less
	than the usual manager, not having
	to put up a big front like a lot of
	these phonies. And I could be with
	her, enough to keep myself feeling
	OK...

A trace of a frown as he spots her leaning against a car,
laughing, passing a cigarette back and forth with another
student--a boy.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Why couldn't that work?... Why
	not?...

Birdy's easy smile remains as Ed approaches, but the boy's
drops; he puts on a face more suitable for meeting adults.

			BIRDY
	Hi, Mr Crane.

			ED
	Hello, Birdy. I thought that was
	very good.

			BIRDY
	Oh, in there? I messed up a little
	bit in the scherzo. I guess, if nobody
	noticed, it's OK. Mr Crane, this is
	Tony, a friend of mine. Tony, Mr
	Crane.

			ED
	Hello, Tony.

			TONY
	Hello, sir.

Silence. The teens wait for the adult to direct the
conversation; Ed has nothing to say. At length, he clears
his throat.

			ED
	...Well, congratulations. I guess
	I'll be getting home.

			TONY
	Nice to meet you, sir.

TURANDOT SUITE

It is morning. We are tracking past an unmade bed toward the
bathroom, where we hear water running.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Anyway, that's what I was thinking
	about in the days leading up to the
	trial. It seemed like once that was
	over, I'd be ready for a new start.
	Freddy Riedenschneider was very
	optimistic. He was busy preparing...

We have rounded the open bathroom door to find Riedenschneider
hunched over the sink, toothbrush in hand, spitting out water.
He rises, looks at himself in the mirror, sprinkles some
tonic in his hair.

			ED (V.O.)
	...And finally it came... the first
	day of the trial...

Riedenschneider runs his fingers through his hair.

			ED (V.O.)
	...What Riedenschneider called the
	Big Show.

He straightens his tie, gives his neck a twist.

COURTROOM

We are close on the back of Riedenschneider's gleaming hair.
He is sitting at the defense table.

There is a murmur of a crowd that has yet to be called to
order.

			FRANK
	Where's the judge? How come there's
	no judge?

Ed and Frank sit next to each other in the first gallery row
directly behind Riedenschneider.

			FRANK
	...Where's the judge, Ed?

Ed shrugs. Frank looks at Riedenschneider's back.

			FRANK
	...How come the judge doesn't come
	out?

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	The judge comes in last. He'll come
	in when Doris gets here.

			FRANK
	So where's Doris? I thought we started
	at ten. Hey, Riedenschneider, where's
	Doris?

Riedenschneider is curt:

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	She's late.

			FRANK
	Late? How can she be late?

Riedenschneider doesn't answer; Frank turns to Ed.

			FRANK
	...She's in prison, Ed. None of *us*
	are in prison, and yet we're not
	late. We're on time, Ed. How can
	Doris be late? What, they don't have
	wake-up calls?

The murmur of the crowd subsides as a door behind the judge's
bench opens and the judge hurriedly enters.

The gallery rises but the judge quickly waves them back down
and, rather than seating himself, leans forward over his
desk to give a peremptory beckoning wave to Riedenschneider
and the prosecutor.

			JUDGE
	Counselors.

Riedenschneider, puzzled, approaches the bench, as does his
counterpart from the other table. The judge, still leaning
forward, speaks to them in a low voice that is not audible
from the gallery.

The crowd has started murmuring again, also in hushed tones.
Frank leans in toward Ed.

			FRANK
	What's going on, Ed? I thought there
	would be arguments. The bailiff, and
	so forth...

Ed, also puzzled, is watching Riedenschneider, who suddenly
stiffens. As the judge continues to talk, Riedenschneider
looks back over his shoulder at Ed.

			FRANK
	...Ed, what is this? Is this
	procedure?

The two lawyers nod at the judge and walk back to their
respective tables. The judge now summons a uniformed man
standing to one side.

			JUDGE
	Bailiff.

As the judge and the bailiff confer, Riedenschneider looks
down at his desk and, for something to do, straightens various
papers.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	I don't understand... We had a real
	shot at it... We could have won this
	thing...

The Bailiff Announces:

			BAILIFF
	In the matter of the State of
	California versus Doris Crane, Case
	Number 87249 assigned to this Superior
	Court...

As the bailiff drones, Riedenschneider shakes his head.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...It doesn't make any sense...

BARBERSHOP

Late afternoon sun slants in.

The shop, not open for business, is very still. Ed, in his
courtroom suit, sits in one of the vinyl chairs that line
the wall, hunched forward, forearms on his knees.

Frank, also still in his suit, is up in one of the barber
chairs, one hand cupped to his forehead, weeping.

			ED (V.O.)
	She'd hanged herself. I'd brought
	her a dress to wear to court and
	she'd used the belt. I didn't
	understand it either. At first I
	thought maybe it had something to do
	with me, that she'd figured out
	somehow how I fit into it and couldn't
	stand it, couldn't stand knowing...

BEDROOM

Night. Ed is in bed, staring at the ceiling.

			ED (V.O.)
	...That wasn't it, I would find out
	later. For now, everything just seemed
	ruined...

METROPOLE LOBBY

Riedenschneider is at the cashier's desk, checking out. Behind
him a bellman's cart is piled high with his bags.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Freddy Riedenschneider went back
	to Sacramento still shaking his head,
	saying it was the biggest
	disappointment of his professional
	career...

FRANK'S HOUSE

Day. Frank's kitchen.

Frank sits at his kitchen table, staring, in a bathrobe thrown
over his pyjamas, unshaven.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Frankie fell to pieces. I suspect
	he was drinking; anyway, he stopped
	coming to work...

BARBERSHOP

Ed, in his smock, works on a customer.

			ED (V.O.)
	...That left me to keep the place
	going, or the bank would've taken
	it.

As he uses the electric clippers, a cigarette plumes between
his lips. He squints against the smoke drifting past his
eyes.

			ED (V.O.)
	...*I* was the principal barber now.
	I hired a new man for the second
	chair...

Ed's former chair is indeed being manned by a newcomer, a
gangly young man who animatedly chats up his customer.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I'd hired the guy who did the
	least gabbing when he came in for an
	interview. But I guess the new man
	had only kept quiet because he was
	nervous; once he had the job, he
	talked from the minute I opened the
	shop in the morning...

EXT. BARBERSHOP

It is evening. Ed is locking the barbershop as, next to him
on the sidewalk, the new man continues to chat, gesticulating
to illustrate his store.

			ED (V.O.)
	...until I locked up at night. For
	all I know, he talked to himself on
	the way home.

STREET

Ed walks along the sidewalk.

			ED (V.O.)
	...When *I* walked home, it seemed
	like everyone avoided looking at
	me...

Indeed, none of the passers-by establish eye contact; their
averted eyes make the crowd a faceless throng.

			ED (V.O.)
	...as if I'd caught some disease.
	This thing with Doris, nobody wanted
	to talk about it; it was like I was
	a ghost walking down the street...

HOUSE

As Ed lets himself in.

			ED (V.O.)
	...And when I got home now, the place
	felt empty.

He sits on the couch and, after a beat, takes a cigarette
pack from his pocket and taps out a smoke.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I sat in the house, but there was
	nobody there. I was a ghost; I didn't
	see anyone; no one saw me...

BARBERSHOP

Ed is in his smock again, operating the clippers.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I was the barber.

						        FADE OUT

The drone of the clippers has continued over the black. A
voice fades up:

			VOICE 1
	So two blocks later I look at the
	change she gave me and, golly, I'm
	two bits short.

			VOICE 2
	Two bits short.

			VOICE 1
	So I walk back over to Linton's,
	find this gal--big argument; she
	doesn't even recall the transaction.

			VOICE 2
	No recollection.

			VOICE 1
	Doesn't recall the transaction, no
	recollection, so I said, Look, dear...

FADE IN

We are looking at a magazine story. Its headline, over an
illustration of a cresting wave, is: WAVE OF THE FUTURE.

Underneath are black-and-white photographs of heavy equipment
and racks of clothing on motorized tracks. Subheadlines read:
NEXT TO GODLINESS - Dry Cleaning Sweeps The Nation - The
Thoroughly Modern Way To Clean.

Ed sits in one of the vinyl chairs, staring at Life magazine.
The offscreen conversation drones on as the new man works on
a customer.

			NEW MAN
	...go ahead, look at the menu, if
	you're in before six o'clock it's
	the, whatchamacallit, the--

			CUSTOMER
	Early Bird Special.

			NEW MAN
	What? Yeah, the Early Riser...

Ed flips the pages of the magazine, and stops on a photograph
of a dark desert landscape with one bright light hovering in
the sky. The caption underneath: ROSWELL, NEW MEXICO.

			VOICE
	Crane?

Ed looks up.

A man in a black suit and fedora has directed the question
at the new man, who looks up from his gabbling, momentarily
slackjawed.

			ED
	...I'm Crane.

			MAN
	My name is Diedrickson. County medical
	examiner.

			ED
	Yeah?

			DIEDRICKSON
	Just came for an informal chat...

Diedrickson looks around uncomfortably.

			DIEDRICKSON
	...Why don't I buy you a drink?

Ed rises from his chair and, as he unbuttons his smock,
addresses the new man, who still gapes.

			ED
	Dwight, you OK here for a few minutes?

			DWIGHT
	Whuh--uh, yeah, sure Ed, take your
	time.

BAR

It is late afternoon, dusty and empty.

Ed and Diedrickson sit on adjacent stools, Diedrickson cocking
his hat lower to its man-sitting-at-a-bar position.

As the bartender approaches:

			DIEDRICKSON
	Rye.

			ED
	Just coffee.

			DIEDRICKSON
	You sure you don't want something
	stiffer?

Ed shrugs and shakes his head.

			BARTENDER
	Coffee it is.

He leaves. Diedrickson interlaces his fingers on the bartop
and stares at them. After a beat:

			DIEDRICKSON
	...County M. E. does an autopsy on
	anyone who dies in custody. I don't
	know if you knew that. It's routine.

Ed doesn't answer. Diedrickson, after some more staring at
his hands, plows on:

			DIEDRICKSON
	...Doesn't become a matter of public
	record unless there's foul play.
	However. I don't believe I'm
	*prohibited* from telling you this.
	I guess I'm not obliged to tell you,
	either. I don't exactly know.  But
	if *I* were the man, I'd want to be
	told.

			ED
	Told what?

			DIEDRICKSON
	I, uh... thanks.

The bartender has set down the drinks.

Diedrickson waits for him to leave. He takes a hit from his
glass. Finally:

			DIEDRICKSON
	...I'm sorry to add to your burden,
	Crane, but I'd want to know it it
	was me. Your wife was pregnant. First
	trimester.

A pause.

			DIEDRICKSON
	...Well, there it is.

Another pause.

			DIEDRICKSON
	...I'm sorry.

He mutters to himself:

			DIEDRICKSON
	...Hell, I hope I've done the right
	thing.

			ED
	My wife and I had not... performed
	the sex act in many years.

Diedrickson stiffens.

			DIEDRICKSON
		(murmuring)
	...Jesus.
		(aloud)
	...Well, that's not really my
	business.

He is hastily digging for money.

			DIEDRICKSON
	...I'm sorry. Well, there it is.

He leaves a couple of bills on the bar and mumbles as he
leaves:

			DIEDRICKSON
	...Good luck, Crane.

His retreating footsteps echo down the bar.

APARTMENT HALLWAY

It is a dingy hallway lit by bare bulbs. Ed stands in the
middle background, knocking on a door.

			ED (V.O.)
	Doris and I had never really talked
	much. I don't think that's a bad
	thing, necessarily. But it was funny:
	now I wanted to talk--now, with
	everyone gone. I was alone, with
	secrets I didn't want and no one to
	tell them to anyway.

The door opens and Ed is admitted by the unseen tenant.

APARTMENT

We hear a low murmuring as we slowly pan the apartment. It
is overfurnished with heavy, ornate chairs, sideboards, chests
too big for the space and all going too seed. Surface areas
are covered with yellowing lacework or exotic brocades; the
one lamp has a veil thrown over it to further scrim down its
feeble light.

Our pan brings us onto Ed seated at a small card table across
from a small elderly woman in a shawl who is the source of
the murmuring. Her eyes are squeezed shut in concentration
as she mumbles.

			ED (V.O.)
	I visited a woman who was supposed
	to have powers in communicating with
	those who had passed across, as she
	called it. She said that people who
	passed across were picky about who
	they'd communicate with, not like
	most people you run into on this
	side...

The woman opens her eyes and looks at Ed.

			WOMAN
	Giff me your hant.

Ed places his hand in the center of the table.

			ED (V.O.)
	...so you needed a guide who they
	didn't mind talking to, someone with
	a gift for talking to souls...

Ed looks at the woman's spotted and vein-lined hand as it
rests upon his. Her mumbling resumes.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Well, first she told me that my
	wife was in a peaceful place, that
	our souls were still connected by
	some spiritual bond, that she had
	never stopped loving me even though
	she'd done some things she wasn't
	proud of...

Ed looks up at the old woman.

			ED (V.O.)
	...She was reading me like a book.

She is stealing a glance at Ed to check his reaction.

			ED (V.O.)
	...And then she started talking about
	'Dolores' this and 'Dolores' that
	and was there anything I wanted to
	tell 'Dolores,' and I knew I'd just
	be telling it to the old bat. And
	even if somehow Doris could hear, it
	wouldn't be on account of this so-
	called medium.

APARTMENT HALLWAY

Ed is leaving.

			ED (V.O.)
	She was a phony. Just another gabber.

EXT. TENEMENT

Ed emerges from the building.

			ED (V.O.)
	I was turning into Ann Nirdlinger,
	Big Dave's wife. I had to turn my
	back on the old lady, on the veils,
	on the ghosts, on the dead, before
	they all sucked me in...

Ed disappears into the night.

ABUNDAS HOUSE

It is night. We are looking through the screen door. Walter
Abundas sits in yellow lamplight by a small table on the
side of the staircase, over which papers are strewn. He is
murmuring into the telephone as he examines the papers,
glasses halfway down his nose, a drink in one hand.

Ed's hand enters to rap on the door. Walter looks up, sets
the phone down and comes to the door.

			WALTER
	Ed, how're you holding up?

			ED
	I'm OK, Walter, thanks.

Walter opens the door to him.

			WALTER
	I'm so damn sorry about your loss.
	Terrible thing. Just damn terrible.

			ED
	Yeah.

			WALTER
	Birdy's in the parlor--I'm on long
	distance here.

			ED
	Sure, Walter. Thanks.

PARLOR

Birdy also has papers spread across a table in front of her:
homework. She looks up at Ed's entrance.

			BIRDY
	Hello, Mr Crane.

			ED
	Hello, Birdy.

			BIRDY
	We haven't seen you since... I'm
	terribly sorry.

Ed sits across from her.

			ED
	Yeah.

			BIRDY
	We've certainly missed you.

			ED
	Birdy, I've been doing a lot of
	thinking. There are a lot of things
	that haven't worked out for me. Life
	has dealt me some bum cards...

He is loading a cigarette into his mouth.

			ED
	...or maybe I just haven't played
	'em right, I don't know. But you're--

			BIRDY
	Pop doesn't like people smoking in
	here.

Ed stares. This takes a moment to register.

			ED
	Oh. Sorry.

Birdy lowers her voice:

			BIRDY
	Sometimes I have a cigarette in here
	when he's away. Never when he's in
	the house. He can smell it a mile
	off.

Ed is pocketing the cigarette.

			ED
	Sure... Sure, it's his house.

			BIRDY
	That's what he keeps telling me.

Ed smiles thinly.

			ED
	Anyway, uh... my point is you're
	young. A kid really, your whole life
	ahead of you. But it's not too soon
	to start thinking... to start making
	opportunities for yourself. Before
	it all washes away.

			BIRDY
	Well, sure, I guess. Pop says so
	too. I work pretty hard at school.

			ED
	That's swell. However, the music, if
	you want to pursue it, well, the
	lessons from Mrs Swan, they'll only
	take you so far. There's this guy in
	San Francisco, I've made inquiries,
	everybody says he's the best. Trained
	lots of people who've gone on to
	have big concert careers, symphony
	orchestras, the works. His name is
	Jacques Carcanogues. I'm not sure
	I'm pronouncing it right. Anyway,
	he's a Frenchman.

			BIRDY
	Boy.

			ED
	You've got talent, anyone could see
	that. And he's the best. If he thinks
	a student has talent, he'll take 'em
	on for next to nothing. You're a
	cinch to be accepted, I could cover
	the cost of the lessons, like I said,
	it's pretty modest--

			BIRDY
	Oh, Mr Crane--

			ED
	I have to do it. I can't stand by
	and watch more things go down the
	drain. You're young, you don't
	understand.

			BIRDY
	Geez, Mr Crane, I don't know. I hadn't
	really thought about a career or
	stuff.

			ED
	I know you haven't. Look, just go
	meet him as a favor to me. I talked
	to this guy. Hope I pronounced his
	name right. He sounded very busy,
	but he's not a bad egg; he loosened
	up a little when I told him how
	talented you are. He agreed to see
	you this Saturday. He said maybe you
	were a diamond in the rough. His
	words.

			BIRDY
	Geez, Mr Crane.

			ED
	Just see him, as a favor to me.

STUDIO WAITING ROOM

It is a small square room with straightbacked chairs set
against the walls. At the far end of the room a door leads
to a studio from which piano music dully emanates; it is a
fast and difficult piece of music.

Ed sits waiting. He is the only adult; two or three youngsters
of different ages sit apparently waiting for their lessons.

Ed looks at one of the waiting boys in a white shirt and bow
tie. He is perhaps eleven. His hair is greased back in a
Junior Contour.

Another boy, in a cardigan sweater, sports a Butch.

The piano piece is ending. There is the murmur of voices.
Dull footsteps.

The studio door swings open.

A small man in a rumpled black suit smudged with cigarette
ash is bowing Birdy out the door. He has a goatee and a
knotted foulard. His eyes flit over the waiting room and
settle on Ed.

			CARCANOGUES
	...You are ze fahzer?

			ED
	No. Uh... family friend.

			MAN
	I am Carcanogues.

He smiles at Birdy.

			MAN
	...You wait, my dear?

			BIRDY
	Sure, Mr K.

A jerk of Carcanogues' head bids Ed rise.

STUDIO

Ed enters, uncomfortable. He looks around, taking in the
high-ceilinged space, which is dominated by a grand piano.

Carcanogues has followed him and now runs water from a tap.

			CARCANOGUES
	I speak to you on ze phone, non? You
	have a special interest in music?

			ED
	Uh-huh.

			CARCANOGUES
	Ah yes, a music lover.

			ED
	Well, I don't pretend to be an expert.

			CARCANOGUES
	Ah.

He uncaps a small bottle of pills, shakes two into his palm,
tosses them back and washes them down.

			CARCANOGUES
	...Ah-hah.

He twists a cigarette into a long holder, sticks it in his
mouth and lights it.

			CARCANOGUES
	...Mm.

			ED
	Well? How'd she do?

This elicits a Gallic frown of consideration.

			CARCANOGUES
	Ze girl?... She seems like a very
	nice girl. She *plays*, monsieur,
	like a very nice girl. Ztinks. Very
	nice girl. However, ztinks.

			ED
	I don't understand.

			CARCANOGUES
	Is not so hard to understand. Her
	playing, very polite.

			ED
	Did she make mistakes?

Another gallic moue:

			CARCANOGUES
	Mistake, no, it says E-flat, she
	plays E-flat. Ping-ping. Hit the
	right note, always. Very proper.

			ED
	I don't understand, no mistakes,
	she's just a kid--I thought you taught
	the, uh, the--

			CARCANOGUES
	Ah, but that is just what I cannot
	teach. I cannot teach her to have a
	soul. Look, monsieur, play the piano,
	is not about the fingers. *Done*
	with the fingers, yes. But the music,
	she is inside. Inside, monsieur...

A two-handed gesture, indicating his heart.

			CARCANOGUES
	...The music start here...

He waggles his fingers:

			CARCANOGUES
	...come out through here; then,
	maybe...

His wave takes in the heavens:

			CARCANOGUES
	...she can go up there.

			ED
	Well, look, I don't claim to be an
	expert--

			CARCANOGUES
	Then you listen to me, for I am
	expert. That girl, she give me a
	headache. She cannot play. Nice girl.
	Very clever hands. Nice girl. Someday,
	I think, maybe, she make a very good
	typist.

DRIVING

We are driving through the rural countryside of northern
California. It is a two-lane road with little traffic. Sun
strobes the car through the passing trees.

Ed drives, glaring. Birdy, next to him, seems unperturbed,
ever cheerful.

			BIRDY
	...I stank, didn't I?

			ED
	He didn't say that.

			BIRDY
	But more or less.

			ED
	Look, I'm no expert, but--

			BIRDY
	It doesn't matter, Mr Crane.

			ED
	I'm sure there's a dozen teachers
	better than this clown. More
	qualified. Goddamn phony.

			BIRDY
	But it doesn't matter. Really, I'm
	not interested in playing music
	professionally.

Ed looks at her.

			BIRDY
	...I'm not certain I'll have a career
	at all, and if I do, I'll probably
	be a veterinarian.

			ED
	...Uh-huh.

			BIRDY
	I do appreciate the interest you've
	taken, though.

			ED
	Ah... it's nothing.

			BIRDY
	I'm only sorry that I didn't play
	better for you. I know it would've
	made you happy. You know what you
	are?

			ED
	Huh.

			BIRDY
	You're an enthusiast.

			ED
	Huh. Yeah. Maybe...

He loads a cigarette into his mouth.

			ED
	...I guess I've been all wet.

			BIRDY
	But I do appreciate it, Mr Crane...

She reaches over to touch his thigh.

			BIRDY
	...I wanted to make you happy.

			ED
	Birdy--

			BIRDY
	It's OK...

She is leaning over his lap.

			BIRDY
	...I want to do it, Mr Crane.

Ed is shocked:

			ED
	Birdy!

He reaches awkwardly, wanting to push her away but not wanting
to be violent.

			ED
	...No, please.

			BIRDY
	Please, Mr Crane, it's OK, please--

The blare of an oncoming horn.

Ed looks up, one hand struggling with Birdy, the other on
the wheel.

The oncoming car.

Ed swerves, tires screech into a skid, Birdy screams.

CRASH: the car hits a roadside tree.

BLACK.

			ED (V.O.)
	Time slows down right before an
	accident, and I had time to think
	about things. I thought about what
	an undertaker had told me once--that
	your hair keeps growing, for a while
	anyway, after you die...

A hubcap is skipping in slow motion along the road and then
off the road, down an embankment.

			ED (V.O.)
	...and then it stops. I thought,
	what keeps it growing? Is it like a
	plant in soil? What goes out of the
	soil? The soul? And when does the
	hair realize that it's gone?

We are high, looking down at Ed, who is motionless, head
resting on the steering wheel of the stopped car. We boom
down toward his, slowly rotating as we move in. As we move
we lose focus; Ed becomes more and more blurry.

The blurry shape is now slowly spinning away from us, a bright
revolving disc spinning up into the darkness until it
disappears, leaving only black.

FADE IN

Ed sits on the front porch of his bungalow, smoking a
cigarette in the late afternoon light.

A dog barks next door; a distant screen door slams; children
are playing somewhere up the street.

Ed looks down at his watch. It is 5:30.

Something attracts his attention: at the foot of his driveway
stands a man in a cream-colored suit and hat. He is a small
figure, perfectly still, staring at the gravel driveway.

After a beat he lifts up a small clipboard, squints at the
house, and jots something down.

He finishes writing, screws the lid back onto his pen, and
is sticking it into a breast pocket when he realizes he is
being watched. His manner instantly warms.

			MAN
	Hello!

			ED
	Hello.

The man starts up the walk.

			MAN
	I notice you still have peastone in
	your driveway.

Yeah.

			MAN
	Well, of course, you don't have to
	rejuvenate that once every couple of
	years, don't you, when the peastone
	thins out.

Ed shrugs.

			MAN
	...Where does it go, huh? Like the
	odd sock. But you *know* where it
	goes--you probably pick pieces of it
	off your lawn all the time, churn it
	up with your lawn mower, sweep it
	off the walk here--pain in the neck.

Ed shrugs again.

			ED
	Doesn't bother me.

			MAN
	Well, have you ever considered tar
	Macadam? People think it's just for
	public works and commercial purposes,
	roads, parking lots, so forth...

A car pulls into the drive.

			MAN
	...but we have the technology now to
	bring it to the homeowner, the
	individual consumer, at a very
	reasonable price.

Doris emerges from the car.

			MAN
	...Mind if I show you the
	specifications?--Evening, ma'am.

Doris gives him a hard look.

			DORIS
	What're *you* selling?

The man gives a practiced laugh.

			MAN
	Well, ma'am, I was just telling your
	husband here about tar Macadam, for
	your home driveway here--these are
	the specs...

Doris takes the brochure he has pulled from a small case.

			MAN
	...It's the modern way to--

Doris tears the brochure in half and hands it back.

			DORIS
	Get lost.

The man gazes at her. His smile fades fast and he and Doris
stare at each other, two hard cases.

He turns stiffly and stalks off.

Once his gaze has broken, Doris turns as well. She stalks up
the stairs to the porch and bangs through the screen front
door of the house, letting it slam behind her.

Quiet, early evening.

Ed sits, smoking.

At length he rises and goes in to the house.

INT. BUNGALOW

It is dim, no lights on yet. We hear banging and clomping
from the kitchen.

Doris emerges with a clinking sound, chasing ice cubes around
a drink with a swizzle stick. Her face is still hard-set.

With a groan of its old upholstery springs she sits onto the
couch.

Ed sits as well. He draws on his cigarette, drags an ashtray
closer on the coffee table.

She sips. He puffs.

			ED
	...Doris--

			DORIS
	Nah, don't say anything. I'm alright.

The sit. The light is failing. The clink of ice cubes.

						        FADE OUT

In the black we hear machine noise of indistinct origin. As
the noise becomes more defined we also hear shouting, faint,
distant:

			VOICE
	Are you there? Are you awake?

A blurry white disc is fading up. As it focuses it resolves
into the reflector worn by a white-robed doctor, leaning in
close.

He leans away, murmuring:

			DOCTOR
	He's coming around. Can you talk,
	sir? These men have to talk.

Ed is lying in a hospital bed. His face is bandaged and one
side is grotesquely swollen. The machine noise is life
support.

			DOCTOR
	...Sir? Are you awake? He's awake.

Two police officers, Persky and Krebs, lean in.

			PERSKY
	Are you awake?... Is he awake?

			KREBS
	Crane? We have to tell you, as soon
	as you're conscious--is he conscious?

			PERSKY
	His eyes are open.

			KREBS
	Uh... you're under arrest.

			PERSKY
	As soon as the doctor lets us, we
	gotta move you. Does he understand
	that? We're supposed to tell him.
	Are you conscious?

			KREBS
	You'll go to the prison hospital.

			PERSKY
	Under arrest for murder.

Ed's speech is thickened by injuries and anesthesia:

			ED
	Birdy... I didn't mean to--

			KREBS
	What'd he say?

			ED
	Birdy...

			DOCTOR
	Birdy. The girl. No, the girl's OK.
	Broken clavicle.

The doctor leans in.

			DOCTOR
	...That's the collarbone, Crane.
	Broken. She's OK though.

			KREBS
	So he understands? He's under arrest
	for murder?

			ED
	Big Dave.

			PERSKY
	Huh?

			KREBS
	What'd he say? Does he understand?

			PERSKY
	He said OK. Is that what he said?

Krebs raises his voice:

			KREBS
	You're under arrest for the murder
	of Creighton Tolliver! Do you
	understand?

The voices are fading away:

			PERSKY
	...Does he understand?...

						        FADE OUT

UNDERWATER

Light glimmers in water. We are drifting down, down, down.

We bring in languidly waving arms--the arms of a child, waving
to keep himself submerged. It is a ten-year-old boy staring,
wide-eyed, at something in front of him. Bubbles
intermittently stream from his open mouth.

			ED (V.O.)
	The pansy. A kid diving at a waterhole
	outside of town had found his car...

The reverse shows the car, also submerged, with Creighton
Tolliver inside, also wide-eyed, his hairpiece attached at
only one corner, the rest of it waving free.

			ED (V.O.)
	...They'd winched it out...

TRACKING

We are tracking laterally across a line of faces: seated
men. The men rise.

			ED (V.O.)
	...and found he'd been beaten, just
	like Big Dave said--beaten to death...

We arc around a judge entering the chamber through the small
door behind his raised bench.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Inside the briefcase were the
	partnership papers I'd signed...

The judge seats himself and we resume out lateral track on
the jury, now reseating itself.

			ED (V.O.)
	...showing that I'd given him ten
	grand. For the district attorney...

In response to a prompt from the judge the district attorney
rises to read the charge. His voice plays distantly, muted,
the words not discernible under the continuing voice-over.

			ED (V.O.)
	...that made it fall into place: I'd
	gotten Doris to steal the money, the
	pansy had gotten wise somehow, and
	I'd had to kill him to cover my
	tracks. I was in a spot. I called in
	Freddy Riedenschneider...

Riedenschneider rises into frame at the defense table. As he
listens to the charge:

			ED (V.O.)
	...and signed the house over to him.
	He said he didn't ordinarily work
	that cheap, but he figured he owed
	me something since the last one hadn't
	played out...

The drone of the D.A. has ended and Riedenschneider's echoing
voice drops into the hole:

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Not guilty, your honor...

			ED (V.O.)
	I tried to tell him the whole story,
	but Riedenschneider stopped me. He
	said the story made his head hurt,
	and anyway he didn't see any way of
	using it without putting me on the
	hot seat for the murder of Big Dave...

Riedenschneider claps Ed reassuringly on the shoulder as he
sits next to him. Ed still wears a cast on one arm and one
leg.

			ED (V.O.)
	...He told me not to worry, though,
	said he'd think of something, Freddy
	Riedenschneider wouldn't let me down.

JAIL

We are tracking in on Ed, lying on the bunk in his cell.

			ED (V.O.)
	...They put me on twenty-four-hour
	deathwatch...

A reverse track shows a guard on a tilted-back straightbacked
chair, outside the cell door, staring at Ed.

			ED (V.O.)
	...so that I couldn't Cheat Justice
	like they said my wife had done...

COURTROOM

The district attorney is rising again, this time to address
the jury.

			ED (V.O.)
	...But in front of the jury they had
	it that Doris was a saint; the whole
	plan had been mine, I was a Svengali
	who'd forced Doris to join my criminal
	enterprise...

The district attorney is pointing at Ed.

			DISTRICT ATTORNEY
	...cynically used his own wife as a
	cat's paw in a scheme of diabolical
	cunning...

			ED (V.O.)
	On and on it went, how I'd used Doris
	and then let her take the fall. That
	stuff smarted because some of it was
	close to being true...

The district attorney seats himself. The jury's eyes turn to
Freddy Riedenschneider, who studies the tabletop in front of
him, either digesting the D.A.'s opening statement, or seeking
inspiration for his own.

			ED (V.O.)
	...And then it was Freddy
	Riedenschneider's turn.

Riedenschneider rises, paces, begins to talk.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I gotta hand it to him, he tossed
	a lot of sand in their eyes. He talked
	about how I'd lost my place in the
	universe...

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...a puny player on the great world's
	stage...

			ED (V.O.)
	...how I was too ordinary to be the
	criminal mastermind the D.A. made me
	out to be, how there was some greater
	scheme at work that the state had
	yet to unravel, and he threw in some
	of the old truth stuff he hadn't had
	a chance to trot out for Doris...

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...who among us is in a position to
	say...

			ED (V.O.)
	...He told them to look at me--look
	at me close. That the closer they
	looked the less sense it would all
	make, that I wasn't the kind of guy
	to kill a guy, that I was the barber,
	for Christ's sake...

We pan the jury, solemnly listening to Riedenschneider.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I was just like them, an ordinary
	man, guilty of living in a world
	that had no place for me, guilty of
	wanting to be a dry cleaner, sure,
	but not of murder...

Riedenschneider is striding energetically into the foreground
to point a finger directly at Ed's face.

			ED (V.O.)
	...He said I *was* Modern Man, and
	if they voted to convict me, well,
	they'd be practically cinching the
	noose around their own necks. He
	told them to look not at the facts
	but at the meaning of the facts, and
	then he said the facts *had* no
	meaning. It was a pretty good speech,
	and even had me going...

A tap on the shoulder turns Ed around.

			ED (V.O.)
	...until Frankie interrupted it.

Frank socks Ed, sending him clattering to the floor.

A bailiff immediately restrains him, but Frank looms over
Ed, bellowing through tears:

			FRANK
	What kind of man *are* you? What
	kind of man *are* you?

Riedenschneider interposes his body between Frank's and Ed's,
loudly protesting:

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	Move for a mistrial, your honor!
	Move for a mistrial! This outrageous
	display cannot help but prejudice...

Ed moves to get up, but Riedenschneider, with a sidelong
glance and furtive gesture, motions for him to stay on the
floor.

			RIEDENSCHNEIDER
	...and inflame the passions of these
	twelve fine men and women...

			ED (V.O.)
	...Well, he got his mistrial, but
	the well had run dry. There was
	nothing left to mortgage;
	Riedenschneider went home and the
	court appointed Lloyd Garroway...

Ed is now standing next to a distinguished older gentleman
who enters the plea in the new trial:

			GARROWAY
	Your honor, we plead guilty, with
	extenuating circumstances.

			ED (V.O.)
	...who threw me on the mercy of the
	court. It was my only chance, he
	said. I guess that meant I never had
	a chance...

The judge starts droning the sentence:

			JUDGE
	...a menace to society... a predator
	on his own wife, his business
	associates, on an innocent young
	girl... social contract... line
	crossed... the offender forfeits the
	right to his own life... I hereby
	order that you be taken to a place
	of confinement...

PRISON HALLWAY

We are tracking down the hall.

			ED (V.O.)
	He wasn't buying any of that Modern
	Man stuff, or the uncertainty stuff,
	or any of the mercy stuff either.
	No, he was going by the book, and
	the book said I got the chair...

Ed is in the cell at the end of the hall, lying on his bunk,
hands clasped behind his head.

			ED (V.O.)
	...so here I am. At first I didn't
	know how I got here. I knew step by
	step of course, which is what I've
	told you, step by step; but I couldn't
	see any pattern...

LATER

Ed sits at the little table next to his bunk, writing.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Now that I'm near the end, I'm
	glad that this men's magazine paid
	me to tell my story. Writing it has
	helped me sort it all out. They're
	paying five cents a word, so you'll
	pardon me if sometimes I've told you
	more than you wanted to know...

Recent issues of the magazine, Gent, and its sister
publication Nugget lie on the little desk. Their lurid covers
depict feature stories like I WAS ABDUCTED BY ALIENS and
AFTER TEN YEARS OF NORMAL LIFE, I DISCOVER I AM AN ESCAPED
LUNATIC.

			ED (V.O.)
	...But now, all the disconnected
	things seems to hook up.

Ed sets aside the pen, lies down on his bunk, and closes his
eyes.

			ED (V.O.)
	...That's the funny thing about going
	away, knowing the date you're gonna
	die--and the men's magazine wanted
	me to tell how that felt...

We hear a pulsing treble hum. Ed opens his eyes.

The door to his cell is open.

He rises and goes through the door.

PRISON HALLWAY

Ed, alone, walks down the hallway. The pulsing treble hum is
louder.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Well, it's like pulling away from
	the maze. While you're in the maze
	you go through willy-nilly, turning
	where you think you have to turn,
	banging into dead ends, one thing
	after another...

PRISON YARD

Ed emerges into the empty prison yard ringed by high stone
walls. A hard spotlight shines down from above. Ed squints
into it.

			ED (V.O.)
	...But get some distance on it, and
	all those twists and turns, why,
	they're the shape of your life. It's
	hard to explain...

The spotlight is from a hovering flying saucer. We see its
revolving underside and, as it irregularly cants, a bit of
its top bubble.

After spinning briefly, it tips and flies away, carrying the
tremolo hum with it.

			ED (V.O.)
	...But seeing it whole gives you
	some peace.

Ed turns and re-enters the prison.

ED'S CELL

Ed is lying on his bunk, eyes closed, hands clasped behind
his head. A hand enters to shake him awake.

Three men loom over him: two guards and another man wearing
a surplice and holding a bible.

			ED (V.O.)
	...The men's magazine also asked
	about remorse. Yeah, I guess I'm
	sorry about the pain I caused other
	people...

PRISON HALLWAY

He is walking the last mile.

			ED (V.O.)
	...but I don't regret anything. Not
	a thing. I used to. I used to regret
	being the barber.

A door at the end opens:

An electric chair. Straps open, and waiting:

			ED (V.O.)
	...I dont know where I'm being taken.

Ed is placed in the chair.

			ED (V.O.)
	...I don't know what waits for me,
	beyond the earth and sky. But I'm
	not afraid to go.

A man stoops at his feet. He has a bucket of water and a
straight razor.

He waggles the razor in the water and starts shaving a patch
of Ed's calf.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Maybe the things I don't understand
	will be clearer there, like when a
	fog blows away...

Ed watches as the razor makes the trip from his leg to the
bucket of water, which begins to spot with small floating
hairs.

			ED (V.O.)
	...Maybe Doris will be there.

They are strapping him in, connecting the electrodes.

			ED (V.O.)
	...And maybe there I can tell her...

The men withdraw.

			ED (V.O.)
	...all those things...

A thin man in a dark suit and fedora stands by the switch.
As he reaches for the switch, Ed looks up into the light.

			ED (V.O.)
	...they don't have words for here.