brought to you by The Val Lewton Screenplay Collection
THE FACT OF MURDER
Screenplay by Val Lewton & Mark Robson
The background on which the MAIN TITLE is imposed FADES
IN to display the body of a woman sprawled, the back
supported awkwardly by a bed, the legs outstretched and
adrift, the head lolling. The beam of a flashlight
cuts in to show this victim of squalid and violent
death. The beam of light holds for a moment, then
flickers off and the MAIN TITLE, itself, comes onto the
screen.
At the same time a man's voice can be heard repeating
the title.
MAN'S VOICE
The fact of murder: The one crime that
cannot be undone. The hardest of all
crimes to commit and the easiest for
which to evade punishment, the
murderer more often than not having
destroyed the chief witness against
himself escapes the law. But having
destroyed a life, whether or not he
meets with legal punishment, a more
ancient law decrees that in this
destruction, like the needs of self
destroyal, the crime committed against
the race is its own punishment.
As the speaker ceases, the TITLE FADES and the CREDIT
TITLES are superimposed on the same dimly lighted scene
of recent and violent death. When the last credit
fades from the scene there is a sharp click of alight
switch and the room lights go on to disclose:
INT. MRS. MACILWAIN'S ROOM - NIGHT
In the full light all the details of the sprawled body,
limp neck and disordered hair of the victim can be seen
as well as the cheaply furnished room with tis sorry
appointments, bed bureau, chair, desk and a rocker by
the window with incongruous velour curtain. Over the
bed in a cracked and gilded frame, Pail and Virginia
run ceaselessly from the storm. From the other wall
Rose Benhaur's doer-eyed horses, water dripping from
their muzzles gaze down on the murdered woman from a
frame of false metal bits, stirrup irons and spurs.
The CAMERAS momentarily contemplation of all this is
interrupted by two voices, the first questioning, the
second affirmative.
MITCHELL'S VOICE
Homicide?
DETECTIVE'S VOICE
Homicide.
REVERSE ANGLE to show the doorway blocked with blue
serge, blue uniforms, brass buttons and Homberg hats.
John Mitchell, a patrolman with that surprising
youngness of a rookie just out of polic school, backs
against the door jamb to let two older plain-clothes
men go through. They go toward the body. A Cameraman
steers the waivering legs of his tripod to solid
footing in the doorway.
CAMERA MAN
(To Mitchell; complaining)
I can't take a picture through you.
Mitchell steps back into the hallway. The cameraman
grunts his gratitude. Behind him, as Mitchell steps
out of frame, can be seen the white-coated figures of
an ambulance doctor and an orderly. The orderly holds
a rolled stretcher and cuts diagonally across the
scene.
INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - MRS. MAINWAIRING'S ROOMING
HOUSE - NIGHT
As Mitchell steps back a naked electric bulb throws
harsh light on the faces crowded in the narrow space
between the stair rail and rose patterned wallpaper.
The cruel light cannot destroy the soft lines and
pleasant contours of Sally Notcheck's young face, but
only highlights the wide eyes and flushed cheeks, the
animation, the terror and excitement that the fact of
murder has communicated to her and which she is so
busily passing on to the middle-aged Lieutenant
Detective who stands courteously, hat in hand, before
her.
SALLY
He turned back -- as if he were
looking for something -- then he ran
right past me -- right past me.
She makes a gesture with her hand to indicate the
swiftness of the close passage.
SALLY (CONT'D)
He looked at me.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
And you looked at him? A good look?
Sally nods excitedly.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
(CONT'D)
Tell us about it.
SALLY
He was young -- younger than Mrs.
MacIlWain -- blonde -- sort of
brownish blonde. He had a pale face.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Tall? Short?
SALLY
Tall -- I guess -- thin -- but not
very thin.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Did you see him before?
Sally shakes her head.
SALLY
But I could pick him out if I saw him
again.
The Lieutenant Detective nods, almost smiles; he has
head this before. He looks around.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Who's the patrolman here on this beat?
Mitchell steps forward, saluting.
MITCHELL'S VOICE
Patrolman Mitchell.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Ever see a fellow like that around
here?
MITCHELL
Not that I can remember, sir.
Mrs. Mainwairing is the proprietor of the rooming
house, middle-aged, but dimpled, with kewpie doll
makeup around the eyes, dyed hair relentlessly coifed
and curled. She moves her heavy body.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
I never seen him. But Wednesdays and
Fridays was his night to come up.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Wednesdays and Fridays? What kind of
place is this?
MITCHELL
It's ok, sir -- perfectly respectable.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
The house has always had a good
reputation.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Let it ride. I was making a joke --
you know -- a joke.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Mrs. MacIlwain was perfectly
respectable too. This fellow was her
steady boy-friend. That's why they
had regular date nights -- Wednesdays
and Fridays.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
You never saw him?
MRS. MAINWAIRING
I don't bother the tenants. I stay
downstairs.
The Lieutenant turns to Sally.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
What'd he wear?
SALLY
A brown suit, I think.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
A hat?
SALLY
(hesitantly)
No, I think he had it in his hand. A
tan hat. That's right, it was in his
hand.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
A terrible -- terrible.
The Lieutenant looks at her, the ponderously turns and
goes toward the door of Mrs. MacIlwain's room.
INT. MRS. MACILWAIN'S ROOM - NIGHT
The cameraman, his camera focused on the body takes a
picture with a flash bulb; living and dying in an
instant of blinding brightness. The Lieutenant enters,
strides to the center of the room, planting his
ponderous feet within a few inches of the dead woman's
outstretched legs. He looks around. One detective
stands at the desk rifling through the pages of a book,
shaking it so that nay hidden papers or money would
fall out. Another is rummaging through the clothes
closet. A third has spread white powder over the foot
board of the bed and is examining it carefully.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Well?
There is no answer. He snorts and throws out the word
again.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
(CONT'D)
Well?
DETECTIVE WITH THE
POWDER
Just smudges.
DETECTIVE AT THE DESK
A fellow once told me most murder
victims have diaries. I can't find
nothin' but bills and some letters
about alimony from a lawyer four years
back.
DETECTIVE AT THE CLOSET
Moths here -- in her winter coat.
There's some stuff my wife uses --
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Yeah -- the moths killed her. What'd
you find beside moths?
ANOTHER ANGLE OF THE ROOM as the Detective at the
closet reaches down and picks up a pair of men's
galoshes and throws them out into the middle of the
room.
CLOSET FULL SHOT - as the Lieutenant takes a step
toward the galoshes, picks one up, glances at it and
lets it fall from his hand.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
(CONT'D)
We'll take these along.
(To the doctor and orderly
waiting in the doorway)
You guys take this.
He points to the body. He then starts from the room
and behind him one of the detectives picks up the
overshoes.
INT. HALLWAY - NIGHT
As the Lieutenant emerges and starts toward the stairs,
Mitchell moves forward to speak to him.
MITCHELL
Did you get any clues?
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
About as much as we usually get --
nothing.
MITCHELL
(Eagerly)
We've go a good description of him.
I'll keep my eyes open.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Yeah -- you do that.
DISSOLVE TO:
-------
INT. NEW YORK MORNING TELEGRAM PROOF DEPARTMENT - NIGHT
LONG SHOT - of the proof room taking in the long
horizontal lines of the tables and the overhead lights
that march down the room one after the other, each with
its pendant pool of light and under each light proof
readers hunched quietly, their pens nibbling at error.
A shirt-sleeved boy with a square paper hat on his head
goes past the CAMERA, proof sheets writhing in his
hands.
INSERT A - PAGE 6
EXT. MRS. MAINWAITING'S ROOMING HOUSE . 246 WEST 68TH
STREET - NIGHT
From the middle of the street the parked ambulance, a
patrol car and police sedan can be seen parked at the
curb. The patrol car, its front wheels turned toward
the house, its lights on to illuminate the steps of the
brown-stone, cut a sharp, white plane across the
sidewalk. A small crowd has gathered to gawk and three
uniformed policeman stand idly by. It is shirt-sleeve
weather, late August, and the faces of the people are
shiny wet with the spent heat of the day.
The Lieutenant of Detectives, followed by his men,
comes down the steps. There is a stir in the crowd, a
craning of necks. He walks swiftly across the
sidewalk. A police chauffeur holds open the door. The
Lieutenant steps in and takes his seat. One of the
detectives is about to follow him when an untidy little
man, his coat pockets crowded with warn copies of
Harper's Magazine, New Departures an Story, pushes
through the crowd and past the detective to poke his
head into the doorway of the sedan.
REVERSE ANGLE - to show this man, Henry Hamlin, a
reporter, as he pokes his head into the doorway of the
police sedan to face the Lieutenant.
HAMLIN
Good evening, Lieutenant.
The Lieutenant grunts in greeting.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Hi-yah, Hamlin.
HAMLIN
If you ask the question, sir, I can
only reply that I am unfortunate.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Yeah.
HAMLIN
It was I who had to leave on this
burning night the delights of cold
bear, hot pastrami to follow you and
your investigation of great crimes.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
You lose the cut, huh?
HAMLIN
The rest sit comfortably while I
pursue their business with my own.
What's up?
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
A woman got killed.
HAMLIN
(In mispronounced French)
En crime passion --
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Huh?
HAMLIN
Who was this unfortunate that shucked
these mortal coils?
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
They'll tell you upstairs.
He makes a preemptory gesture to the detective who
pushes Hamlin to one side and gets into the car.
HAMLIN
(As he withdraws)
Farewell, brave minion of the law.
(He pauses)
Of averages.
The other detectives crowd into the car, the door
closes and the car starts off with a blast from the
siren.
EXT. CENTRAL PARK WEST - NIGHT
LONG SHOT - up the avenue showing the swift and orderly
stream of traffic, the headlights glowing two-by=two
like the eyes of feral creatures some dread clan had
regimented into these swift and seried ranks.
INT. POLICE SEDAN - NIGHT
The Lieutenant and his men sit quietly, relaxed,
swaying to the accustomed motion of the vehicle. One
of the detectives is seated on the jump seat and holds
the galoshes in his hand. Suddenly the silence is
broken by the Lieutenant.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Not much to go on -- a pair of men's
galoshes left in the apartment last
winter -- an ex-husband -- the last
four years ex -- a girl who saw the
murderer -- that's all.
FIRST DETECTIVE
The guy was there every Wednesday and
Friday.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
Check the overshoes. Find out who
made 'em, where they were sold -- who
bought 'em -- you do that Charlie.
SECOND DETECTIVE
A tidy little job in this weather.
LIEUTENANT DETECTIVE
We'll check the ex-husband -- don't
expect much. Not after four years --
and the neighborhood -- she must have
bought papers, groceries, cigarettes --
might have talked to the people.
Woman like that usually talk to
somebody -- all she's got to talk
about is boy friends -- or boy friend.
(he heaves a long sigh)
Where're we goin' now?
POLICE CHAUFFEUR
(Without turning his head
replies to the question)
Man don on sidewalk after fight.
Thought to be dying -- fifty eight
street -- near the Circle -- ambulance
is there.
The chauffeur steps on the siren. As it SOUNDS:
DISSOLVE TO:
-------
DOLLY SHOT - The CAMERA follows the boy. At each desk
he deposits a few proof sheets and the darker, wider
pages of copy. Finally, at one desk, he lays down a
proof sheet and a copy sheet and then goes on. The
CAMERA remains fixed on the slightly built, thin-faced
greying man who sits there. He lifts his head as he
reaches forward to pull the proof sheet toward him.
INSERT: As the proof readers hands pull the proof
sheets closer a pen poises over the lines and begins to
follow them closely making small space and indentation
corrections on the following copy.
"At the street where she had lived for the past two
years, Mrs. Dorothy Macillwain, a divorcee, met death
last night at the hands of an unknown assailant. The
murderer, a constant visitor --"
At the name "Macillwain" the pen pauses for a long
pause, then very slowly lowers and makes the correction
to "MacIlwain."
CLOSE SHOT - The proof reader's face, motionless and
impassive, the pen resting on the corrected name. Very
slowly the CAMERA moves further left to shoot past his
profile to take in the neat name on the desk. It
reads: Herbert S. MacIlwain.
FADE OUT
EX. MRS. MAINWAITING'S ROOMING HOUSE - MORNING
CLOSE SHOT - Mrs. Mainwairing on the doorstep. This is
a rear view of Mrs. Mainwairing's becurled poll, fatted
shoulders, pendant flanks and pachydermian haunches.
She is busily screwing some object to the wall of her
house. Over this back view of Mrs. Mainwairing can be
heard two of the distinctive street cries of New York.
STREET CRIER'S VOICE
Old clothes, old clothes, who got, who
got, who got any old clothes?
ANOTHER STREET CRIER'S
VOICE
Bones, bottles, brass, j-u-u-u-nk!
A man walking along the street pauses and looks up at
Mrs. Mainwairing. After a second or two she is
conscious of his gaze and turns. As she turns she
reveals that what she has been screwing to the wall is
an enameled sign which reads, "Room To Let."
REVERSE VIEW from Mrs. Mainwairing's angle to show that
the man is MacIlwain. He tips his hat.
MACILWAIN
I wonder if I might see that room,
madame.
MED. FULL SHOT - Mrs. Mainwairing from his angle as he
starts up the stairs.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Yes indeedy! It's a lovely single --
just right for a gentleman -- sun in
the morning -- nice soft bed -- lovely
soft bed.
MacIlwain has climbed to her level and she turns to
lead the way into the house.
INT. MRS. MAINWAITING'S ROOMING HOUSE - MORNING
FULL SHOT of the lower hall as Mrs. Mainwairing enters,
followed by MacIlwain. She starts up the stairs,
puffing and panting at each step. She is short of
breath but not of words.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
It's such a nice room -- I've always
thought of it as gentleman's room --
near the bath -- nice rocker by the
window and my husband's favorite
painting --
MR. MACILWAIN
You're married?
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Oh dear no. So many of us girls are
divorced these days. Have to share
the boys you know.
They pass out of view on their way up the stairs.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
(CONT'D)
I don't often have vacancies in this
house. It's just pure accident that I
have one now -- just pure accident.
INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - MRS. WAINWAIRING'S ROOMING
HOUSE - MORNING
As Mrs. Mainwairing and Mr. MacIlwain come up they
start down the hall toward the room formerly occupied
by Mrs. MacIlwain.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
(Stepping aside to let him
look through the open
doorway)
This is the room.
CLOSE FULL SHOT - of MacIlwain in the door as he stands
looking in. Over this shot can be heard a peculiar
rhythmic noise.
INT. MRS. MACILWAIN'S ROOM - MORNING
From Mr. MacIlwain's ANGLE at the door. The bed has
been stripped, the windows opened and the curtains are
blowing. A scrub woman kneels at the bedside, a bucket
beside her, busily shampooing the rug where Mrs.
MacIlwain's body had lain.
Mr. MacIlwain comes in past the CAMERA and stands
looking down at the scub woman.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - MacIlwain as he transfers his
attention from the rug.
PAN SHOT - from MacIlwain's ANGLE to take in the
freshly emptied closet, the open drawers of the bureau
and finally the curtains blowing at the open windows.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
I always like to get a room cleaned
for the new tenant.
FULL TWO SHOT - as she comes into scene MacIlwain turns
to her.
MACILWAIN
Yes. I see.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
The lady who had the room was just
crazy about it.
(She pauses)
She had to leave -- such a nice woman
too -- such a nice woman.
MACILWAIN
Such a nice woman? My name is
MacIlwain. I was her husband.
He turns and starts for the door.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Oh.
At the door he pauses.
MACILWAIN
I just wanted top see the room -- you
understand?
MRS. MAINWAIRING
(Very flustered)
Oh yes -- yes.
INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - MRS. WAINWAIRING'S ROOMING
HOUSE -- MORNING
MacIlwain comes out of his dead wife's room, goes down
the hall and starts down the stairs. From below him
comes a man's merry whistling of "The Harp That Once
Through Terra's Halls" and the thud of thick-soled
shoes on the worn carpet of the stair.
INT. STAIRWAY - MRS. WAINWAIRING'S ROOMING HOUSE --
MORNING
MacIlwain, on hs way down, passes Patrolman Mitchell on
his way out. The patrolman crowds himself against the
wall to let the other man pass, breaks off his whistle
and watches MacIlwain as he goes down the stairs,
transverse the lower hall and leaves the building.
When the front door is closed behind MacIlwain,
Mitchell resumes his climb up the stairs.
INT. SECOND FLOOR HALLWAY - MRS. WAINWAIRING'S ROOMING
HOUSE - MORNING
AN ANGLE that shows Mrs. Mainwairing leaning over the
railing looking down. Mitchell comes on a level with
her and pushes his cap back on the back of his head.
MITCHELL
Morning, Mrs. Mainwairing.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
(Without replying to his
greeting)
You know who that was? That was Mrs.
MacIlwain's husband.
MITCHELL
Aye?
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Yes. Her husband. He said so. He
wanted to see the room.
MITCHELL
He did, eh? Did he tell you anything
about himself.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Not a thing. Just that he was her
husband.
MITCHELL
Wanted to see where she died, huh?
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Guess so. Something like that.
MITCHELL
Did he tell you his first name?
Mrs. Mainwairing shakes her head. Mitchell sighs and
pushes his cap further back on his head.
MITCHELL (CONT'D)
Well, I guess I could locate him.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
What for? He didn't do it.
MITCHELL
He might give me a lead on who did.
(He pauses)
You know -- I'd like to get the guy
who did it. Yeah, I would. You know
what it would mean to me -- promotion
maybe -- plain-clothes duty, maybe --
thirty bucks more a month. The wife
and I could use that. There's a
little apartment my brother-in-law
could get us in Flushing.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Flushing's nice.
MITCHELL
Nice for the kids -- a place to play --
decent people.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
It is a good place to bring up kids.
MITCHELL
Yeah -- if I could get the guy. You
could help me Mrs. Mainwairing. Let
me know if anybody comes around.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
They always return to the scene of the
crime, don't they?
MITCHELL
I don't know about that -- but if
anybody comes around, you'll let me
know, huh?
MRS. MAINWAIRING
Yes indeedy!
MITCHELL
Thanks.
He turns and starts down the stairs.
MRS. MAINWAIRING
And if anybody asks you about a good
room, you tell 'em about my room.
MITCHELL
Sure.
EXT. 74TH STREET NEAR THE CORNER OF SIXTH AVENUE -
MORNING
LONG SHOT of this residential street with its walkup
apartment houses all a little run down, stained with
time and weather. There are only a few passersby. One
of them is MacIlwain. He walks slowly on the south
side of the street looking at the second story windows
on the other side. Suddenly, he stops.
NEW ANGLE - SHOOTING PAST MacIlwain to an open window
on the second floor in the house opposite. The lace
curtains move in the gentle morning breeze and beyond
them can be seen the flashing oval mirror held between
two horns of wood above an ornate dresser. The room is
a bedroom and so far as can be seen, it is empty.
CLOSE FULL SHOT of MacIlwain as he takes a few more
steps down the street and pauses to look again.
ANOTHER ANGLE - This is the same setup as the previous
one, SHOOTING PAST MacIlwain to SHOW the next window; a
double one. Through this window can be seen a stained
oak sideboard and other evidences that this is a dining
room. At the table there can be clearly see through
the window and on old white-haired woman. She uses her
napkin daintily against her lips and looks up. Out of
the gloom back of her comes a tall, thin blond young
man dressed in a neat business suit and carrying a tan
hat in his hand. He leans forward and kisses the old
woman. After he straightens from the kiss, she pats
his arm affectionately and they speak together for a
few seconds but their words cannot be heard because of
the great distance. Then he bends to peck at her cheek
again, turns and disappears into the darkness at the
other end of the room.
FULL SHOT - MacIlwain. He takes his glance from the
window, rummages through his pocket for a cigarette,
then for matches, all the while watching the door of
the house opposite. Just as that door opens, he
strikes the match and brings his cupped hands,
shielding the flame, before his face.
LONG SHOT - The doorway from MacIlwain's angle. The
young man comes out, goes down the steps and starts off
toward Broadway.
CLOSE SHOT - MacIlwain watching him over the flame of
his match. He lights his cigarette, blows out the
match and throws it away, still standing watching him.
EXT. CHILD'S RESTAURANT - 46TH STREET AND BROADWAY -
MORNING
CLOSE FULL SHOT of the window. A white-capped chef is
busily baking hot cakes, tossing them with histrionic
skill. So used are the passersby to this sight of
culinary legerdemain that no one pauses.
INT. CHILD'S RESTAURANT - MORNING
MED. LONG SHOT - The patrons absorbed in their
newspapers and their breakfasts. Sally Notcheck in
waitress uniform passes the CAMERA. The CAMERA DOLLIES
with her as, tray in hand, she walks hastily toward the
kitchen. With an expert flip of her left arm she opens
the swinging door and bobs through with her tray.
INT. CHILD'S KITCHEN - MORNING
As Sally Notcheck comes through the door, two
waitresses and the manager stand within a foot or two
of the door waiting for her. One of the waitresses,
Blanche, is a woman about fifty, heavily rouged and
madeup. The makeup on this harsh, lined face assumes a
grotesque effect. Her arms and hands show the muscles
of a veteran waitress. The other girl, Sylvia, young,
frivolous is about Sally's age, but much wiser in the
ways of the world she knows. The manager, white
coated, his trousers sharply creased, his hair pomaded
to the shine of a skating rink, is the first to speak.
MANAGER
Sally, you can't keep us in suspense --
then what?
SALLY
But a customer was looking for me.
BLANCHE
What happened?
SALLY
Then I ran down stairs and yelled for
Mrs. Mainwairing. She called the
police.
SYLVIA
Was he her steady boyfriend?
SALLY
I guess so. Mrs. Mainwairing said so.
BLANCHE
Had you seen him before?
Sally takes a look through the little square window in
the door toward her table.
LONG SHOT - Through the little window from Sally's
ANGLE showing a rather nice-looking man in a neat
business suit as he comes in and seats himself at
Sally's table. He reaches for the menu.
GROUP SHOT - Sally and the others as Sally looks
nervously over her shoulder.
SALLY
I've got to get back. Another
customer.
She picks up an empty tray and starts back toward the
dining room. As she goes through the door, the manager
turns to Sylvia.
MANAGER
Next time you go. I want to hear what
happened.
BLANCHE
She's a quiet biddy, that Sally. I
never heard her speak so much in my
life.
SYLVIA
Never get nothin' out of her. Murder
happens right in front of her nose and
you get about five words on it --
between customers.
INT. DINING ROOM - CHILD'S RESTAURANT - MORNING
CLOSE FULL SHOT - As Sally comes up to the new
customer.
SALLY
Good morning.
The young man looks up pleasantly. He is Bob Shulman,
a clerk in the employ of The Arden Rubber Novelties
Corporation. He is about twenty-four, city born and
bred, but without the ingrown pugnaciousness of most
New Yorkers.
SHULMAN
The usual.
MED. CLOSE SHOT - Sally. She is embarrassed.
SALLY
The usual? Oh!
Obviously she doesn't remember what it is that this
regular customer wants for his breakfast.
TWO SHOT - Shulman notices this and smiles.
SHULMAN
I mean the usual thing for breakfast --
hot cakes and coffee.
Sally smiles at him, deftly pours out water into his
glass, then turns and goes off toward the front of the
restaurant where the hot-cake orders are given to the
chef in the window.
INT. CHILD'S KITCHEN - MORNING
Blanche, Sylvia and the manager peer through the little
window.
MANAGER
She's gone off to order hot cakes.
We'll never hear about that murder.
INT. HALLWAY ARDEN RUBBER NOVELTIES CORPORATION -
MORNING
This is the hallway in which the employees of the
company pass on their way to work. A rack on the wall
holds their cards and a battery of time clocks waits to
greet them in the morning and speed their departure at
night.
At this moment these time clocks are clacking away
quite merrily as the employees queue up to punch in.
The young man whom MacIlwain had watching leaving his
house enters the hallway. Without a word he goes to
the rack and picks out a card.
INSERT: TIME CARD
The card is made out to keep a record of the time of
Harold Briggs, Clerk, Recieving Dept.
MED. FULL SHOT - With his card in his hand Briggs
crosses and takes his place in a queue in front of one
of the time clocks. In front of him are two girls.
They are chattering.
FIRST GIRL
Friday is always such a busy day for
me.
SECOND GIRL
A lot of work come in on Friday?
FIRST GIRL
Oh no. I have to get my hair done and
mother wants me to buy fish on my way
home. Friday is such a long day; the
day before date night.
She clangs down the handle of the time clock, takes her
card and moves on. Briggs punches in. As he depresses
the handle a heavy hand descends on his shoulders. He
moves nervously. Behind him is a grinning
acquaintance.
ACQUAINTANCE
Hi-yah, chum?
BRIGGS
(Moving away)
Can't complain.
He walks across the room to the door leading to the
main office.
INT. MAIN OFFICE - ARDEN RUBBER NOVELTIES CORPORATION -
MORNING
This is an enormous room at one side of which is a long
series of big windows with ventilator transoms top and
bottom. The various departments are separated from
each other by railings, counters and partitions of
milled glass. In the LONG SHOT it looks like some
intricate and modernistic maze for the confusion of
office boys.
Briggs comes in through the main door and threads his
way through the various desks, counters and partitions
to the square of desks and filing cabinets marked
"Receiving." He goes to one of the desks, seats
himself, pulls open a drawer and takes out two files
which he places before him. Then he looks over
nervously at the neighboring desk, the top of which is
still clear. He leafs through the files before him,
almost without comprehension of what he is doing, then
takes another look at the desk next to him and back
again at the way he had come. The man he is seeking is
evidently not in sight. But from his left, a tall,
thin, older man, Mr. Johnson, approaches his desk.
JOHNSON
Good morning, Briggs.
BRIGGS
Good morning, Mr. Johnson.
JOHNSON
(In a kindly manner)
Go on, Briggs, get your smoke.
You fellows with nicotine on your thumbs are never worth
anything to the company until you've had your morning drag.
BRIGGS
I'm waiting for Shulman.
JOHNSON
(As he moves on)
Don't wait too long. We've got a
lot of work to get out this
morning.
Briggs resumes his idle fingering of the two files before
him, then suddenly the sound of footsteps behind him makes
him turn. The pleasant young man who had been breakfasting in
the restaurant comes into the Receiving Department a smile of
greeting on his face.
SHULMAN
Good morning, Ralph.
Briggs gets up from his chair. As he turns, and Shulman sees
his face for the first time; Shulman stops smiling and looks
concerned.
SCHULMAN
What's the matter, Ralph?
Briggs comes closer to him before answering.
BRIGGS
(In a low flat voice)
I killed her.
Shulman looks at him with shook and disbelief. There is a
pause before he can find words.
SCHULMAN
What are you talking about?
BRIGGS
I told you — I killed her — I
killed Dorothy.
Shulman continued to look at him for a moment then beckons to
him turns and starts out of the Receiving cubicle. Briggs
follows him.
INT. MEN'S WASHROOM - MORNING
There is a row of sinks flanked by partitioned stalls. The
urinals are out of CAMERA, range. A man bent over one of the
wash basins, his coat off, his sleeves rolled, is splashing
his face with water. He finishes these sketchy ablutions,
pulls out an enormous number of paper towels and swabs
himself dry. As this man begins to put on his tie. Shulman
and Briggs enter. They search their pockets for cigarettes
and matches, light up and wait for the other man to put on
his jacket and depart.
BRIGGS
You see —-
Shulman interrupts with an upraised finger, then bends
down and looks under the door of the toilet
compartment. Evidently his scrutiny has revealed no
telltale feet.
SHULMAN
But why? What happened?
BRIGGS
I couldn't stand it any more — all
that beefing and fighting. I hit her.
She began to bawl and I wanted to stop
that awful bawling and whining.
There is the sound of the door opening; the low hiss of
compressed air in the door-closing device. Shulman makes a
gesture for silence. A moment later a dapper young man comes
in.
CLERK
Hi-yah, fellas! Wonderful morning.
(He sniffs ecstatically)
Air like wine.
Both Shulman and Briggs nod, to him. He struts past them to
the mirror and begins to carefully adjust the Windsor knot of
his tie, all the while humming, "What a Wonderful Morning."
Having fixed the tie to the precise triangular exactitude of
his desire, he turns and struts out. Immediately Briggs
resumes his confession.
BRIGGS
I had to do it — kind of funny, way
she made me do it.
SCHULMAN
I know. I know you've been having
trouble. But what are you going to
do?
BRIGGS
I don't know.
SCHULMAN
Anybody see you?
BRIGGS
No.
SHULMAN
Did you leave anything?
BRIGGS
No.
SHULMAN
Anybody in the house know you were
calling on her — the landlady?
BRIOOS
Dorothy didn't like her; didn't
talk to her.
SHULMAN
Then nobody saw you.
BRIGGS
No.
SCHULMAN
Then you're in the clear. Just
don't talk about it —do anything.
BRIGGS
But you see —
They are interrupted for a second time by the whooshing sound
of the door closing.
A lean, little man in an alpaca coat comes in, goes past them
to the wash basin, removes a bottle of mouthwash from his
pocket, uncorks it, takes a brief swallow and runs it back
and forth in his mouth, by briskly shaking his head, then
spews it forth. He leaves, returning the cork to the bottle.
SHULMAN
What were you saying?
BRIGGS
Her husband — he knows about me.
They'll ask him.
SCHULMAN
What does he know?
BRIGGS
She told him everything. She used
to needle him that way. Just like
she did with me.
SHULMAN
He'll be the first person the
police will question.
BRIGGS
Yeah — I've got to get out of here.
But I need money.
SHULMAN
Where's your pay? You only got paid
off day before yesterday.
BRIGGS
I gave it to Ma.
SHULMAN
(Reaching Into his pocket
for his wallet)
I can skip my rent — I've always
been up on it.
He counts out all but a few bills from the wallet.
BRIGGS
What'll I do?
SHULMAN
Well, take the money anyhow. Got
any friends outside the city?
Briggs shakes his head.
SHULMAN
Where do you go on vacation?
BRIGGS
You know — Ma and I go to Ceagirt.
SHULMAN
People know you there?
BRIGGS
Yeah — It's a little place. We've
been going there for years.
SHULMAN
That's no good then. Go to Stamford
-- go to the "Y" there.
BRIGGS
But what about Ma?
Shulman tries to think this out.
SHULMAN
Doesn't she know.
BRIGGS
Of course not.
SHULMAN
I'll call her— tell her you had to
go out of town for the company and
I'll tell Mr. Johnson that you're
been taken sick.
BRIGGS
Don't call Ma. That upsets her. Go
see her, will you?
SHULMAN
Okey.
The door warns them again. Two men come in.
FIRST MAN
I tell you she's a dream boat
adrift on the river of love.
SECOND MAN
(Ecstatically)
A dream boat —
Shulman gestures toward the door and he and Briggs start out.
As they go Briggs speaks.
BRIGGS
You'll go and fix things with my
Ma.
Shulman nods.
DISSOLVE
INT. MACILWAIN'S ROOM - NOON
The blinds have been pulled down to the window sills but the
brightness of noon light steals in through every crevice so
that the room is in a dim light. MaoIlwain lies on the bed
sleeping soundly with only a sheet pulled over his pajama
clad body. A black eye bandage is over his eyes and rubber
stopples in his ears. From outside comes the yammering and
shouting of innumerable children at play in the street with
an obligato of taxi horns and the roar of traffic on a nearby
avenue.
There is a knock at the door. MacIlwain does not stir. The
knock is repeated louder. Still there is no response. Then an
even more thunderous hammering of knuckles on the door panel.
This finally rouses the sleeper. He shucks the eye shade,
removes the stopples, glances at the alarm clock beside his
bed, curses under his breath and finally lowers his feet to
the floor and staggers across the room and opens the door.
MITCHELL'S VOICE
(Through the door)
Mr. MacIlwain?
MACILWAIN
Yeah?
Mitchell comes through the door. He is dressed in
civilian clothes. He shows his badge in the palm of
his hand.
MITCHELL
I'm Mitchell — police department.
MACILWAIN
(What do you want?)
MITCHELL
I'd like to speak to you about Mrs.
MacIlwain.
MACILWAIN
Your pals have been here. I told
'em — we're divorced. I don't know
anything about her. I don't know
any of her friends. What do you
want to know?
MITCHELL
(Stumped)
Well, you see, I thought you might
give me a lead.
MACILWAIN
I tell you I don't know anything. I
paid my alimony and I stayed away
from her.
MITCHELL
But didn't you ever hear of any
friends she had.
MACILWAIN
I went into all that with your
friends from homicide. If she had
any friends I didn't know about
'em. How let me get some sleep.
Mitchell allows himself to be forced out of the room.
MacIlwain closes the door, then turns back into his room and
sits down on the edge of the bed. He looks at the alarm
clock; the hands point to ten minutes after twelve. He begins
to put back the stopples In his ears.
INT. CHILD'S RESTAURANT - NOON
The lunch-hour rush is on. It is a hot day and half the men
in the restaurant are in their shirt sleeves. The place
steams with heat, activity and food.
MED. FULL SHOT -Sally as she arranges Jacks' setup and pours
his water. The handsome salesman is studying a newspaper,
holding it before him at a distance that would indicate
either eye defect or the assumption of a high-bred manner.
Sally's hands fluttering about him neither distract nor
interest him. Suddenly she points with her forefinger to a
headline.
SALLY
(Hesitantly)
I saw the man who did it.
Mr. Jacks looks at her. Probably it is the first time he has
looked at her. He even speaks.
JACKS
Huh?
Sally is almost overcome.
SALLY
Yes. I did. I saw him. I live in
that house — on the same floor.
JACKS
Yeah?
This little interchange of words has drawn his
attention to her. He looks her over paying particular
regard to that portion of her anatomy where the cotton
cloth of her uniform in strained tightly over her
bosoms. He seems to approve what he sees. It is at
this moment, however, that Shulman pushes his way past
Sally and takes the single seat opposite Jacks. He
picks up his menu and looks it over.
JACKS (CONT'D)
(To Sally)
You're a cute trick.
Sally is flustered.
JACKS
Yeah, — I might have news for you kid
— good news.
SALLY
Oh?
JACKS
I might even make bright the
evening for you, dearie. Where do
you live?
SALLY
I told you.
JACKS
Oh yeah -- makes It convenient
doesn't it? What's your name?
SALLY
Sally Notoheck.
JACKS
Funny name, huh?
SALLY
I guess so. A lot of people have
said so.
JACKS
Well — a rose by any other name, you
know. What're you doing tonight?
SALLY
Nothing.
JACKS
Friday night and you ain't doin'
nothing?
SALLY
No.