Something's Going On In This Town
by
L.M. Lewis
FADE IN:
EXT. RURAL ROAD—DAY
An aerial shot of the GMC truck driving along a scenic two-lane highway.
INT. THE TRUCK—MOVING-DAY
Hardcastle is driving along by himself, listening to the farm report, enjoying the scenery. Just as the station signals its call letters (KVIL and the town of Koganville) we hear one of those not very good sounds coming from under the hood. Hardcastle's heard it, too—and:
INSET: the temperature gauge on the dashboard is redlining
HARDCASTLE'S POV
He has a drive-by view of a sign that reads "Welcome to Koganville, pop. 1,257. Home of the Koganville High Kougars—1971 Division IV Regional Champs - Football". To balance that is the township cemetery on the other side of the road. It looks neglected. What flowers we see among the grave markers are of the artificial variety, dusty and weather-beaten.
EXT. THE TRUCK - DAY
It's limping into a gas station ("Hank's Gas and Service—We Care for Cars") with steam coming out from under the hood. It lurches to a halt. Hardcastle climbs out, hastens to the front, unlatches the hood and opens it. He's greeted with a billow of fresh steam and leans back, coughing. The station owner, HANK, emerges from the service bay, wiping his hands on a rag and chewing on a toothpick. He stows the toothpick in the corner of his mouth and inspects the damage while Hardcastle tries to fan away the steam.
HANK
(to Hardcastle)
You check your coolant before you started out?
HARDCASTLE
(irritated)
I got somebody who likes checking coolant. It's a hobby for him.
HANK
(nods, he gets that, then leans in, taking a professional interest)
Could be a leak in the radiator, or some kinda blockage, or maybe the water pump.
HARDCASTLE
How long will it take to fix? I was on my way to a convention up in Sacramento.
HANK
(scratching head) You're kind off the beaten path for that town,
huh?
HARDCASTLE
I like taking the scenic route. How long you figuring?
HANK
(not making any promises)
Oh, depends on what the problem is, and if I need parts, and how fast they can deliver 'em.
(beat)
We get most of our stuff sent from Fresno. If you give me an hour, I'll check 'er out. Might just need a good flushing.
HARDCASTLE
(sighs, shoulders drop)
An hour, huh? Don't suppose there's anywhere around here where a guy can get a sandwich and a cup of coffee?
HANK
Sure.
(pulls out toothpick and points with it, down the road into town)
Place called the Do Drop Inn, right up the road here not even a quarter mile.
Hardcastle smiles and nods, hands over the key and heads in that direction.
EXT. SMALL TOWN MAIN STREET—DAY
We see the front of the Do Drop Inn, Maggie Purls, Proprietor. "Just Like Home Only You Don't Have to Do the Dishes." There are checked curtains in the windows and an "Open" sign hanging inside the door.
INT. THE DO DROP INN—DAY
The place is hopping. MAGGIE is handling the register, a middle-aged WAITRESS is hustling food out to the tables, many of which are occupied; mostly it's guys in work clothes. There's a third employee behind the counter, scraping plates and carrying things into the back for washing. She's KITTY McCRAY, pale, thin, and half-way between girl and woman—maybe 18, maybe not. Her hair is dishwater blond and tied back untidily. HARDCASTLE is already seated in a booth, looking at a menu. The waitress approaches.
WAITRESS
(friendly)
What'll it be?
HARDCASTLE
(glances up, tries not to look cranky)
That meatloaf special.
WAITRESS
(nods and jots)
You'll like that.
HARDCASTLE
And coffee, black.
(beat)
You got a phone?
The waitress points to one near the back, regrettably close to a jukebox that's winding down the last chorus of the Randy Travis Song, "Diggin' Up Bones". He thanks her and takes advantage of the lull in the background music to slip away to the phone. He pulls out a handful of change, puts it on the ledge below the phone, lifts the receiver, and drops in a quarter, with the receiver wedged between his shoulder and his ear. He dials a long-distance number, waits for the operator to announce the charges, and feeds in more quarters. We hear the ringing tone and then:
INT. THE GATEHOUSE AT GULL'S WAY - DAY
McCORMICK has umpteen books open on the coffee table, with a few more in piles on the floor around him. He's sitting on the sofa, pen and notepaper to hand, at least going through the motions of studying, but he lunges for the PHONE on the first ring.
McCORMICK
The Gull's Way Institute for Advanced Boredom, McCormick here.
INTERCUT:
HARDCASTLE
(loud phone-speak in a crowded and noisy room)
Hey, it's me.
McCORMICK
Hey, how's the water balloon fight going? You got Arnie Sandoval on your team this year?
HARDCASTLE
No water balloons, and it don't look like there's gonna be any judges' convention until I get my radiator flushed or patched or whatever it needs. I'm in a little place called Koganville.
McCORMICK
Koganville? Never heard of it. What the hell are you doing off the interstate?
HARDCASTLE
(sighs)
I was taking the scenic route.
McCORMICK
Okay, well, never mind, I'll find it on the map.
(leans over, still holding the receiver, feels around under the coffee table for his shoes)
You left at seven—
(sits up, shoes still unlocated, checks watch) I can be there by five. We'll get back on 99 and shoot north—I'll have you at the convention in time to put some Saran Wrap under the toilet seat and shoot a spitball at the maitre d'.
HARDCASTLE
Nah. This was the weekend you were gonna get caught up on everything. I don't mind missing the spit balls. Anyway, all the important stuff is tomorrow afternoon. Got a couple of good seminars on family law, and one on that DNA thing they're gonna start using.
(beat, then does his best to sound hopeful)
For all I know, this Hank guy'll have the truck back on her pins in a couple hours. No point in you driving all the way up here.
McCORMICK
You sure?
HARDCASTLE
Sure, I'm sure. I just wanted to let you know where I was and not to worry.
McCORMICK
I wouldn't've worried. I wouldn't've even known I was supposed to worry.
HARDCASTLE
Okay, well, good. Go back to your studying.
McCORMICK
(a little disappointed, he's finally located one loafer, looks at it, and tosses it over his shoulder)
Okay. Call me if you change your mind.
HARDCASTLE
I would, but I'm not gonna change it. Bye.
McCORMICK
Bye.
He hangs up, looks at the books open in front of him, sighs deeply, and returns to his work.
RESUME SCENE AT CAFÉ
Hardcastle hangs up the receiver and wends his way back to his booth. Off to his left, and a little behind him, KITTY McCRAY watches closely from behind the counter. The food and his cup of coffee are already at his place. Hardcastle sits and takes a bite, then starts to chow down with greater enthusiasm. MAGGIE notices McCray staring fixedly. She steps over and gives the girl a tap on the shoulder. McCray startles and then focuses on her.
MAGGIE
(firm but not unkind)
No daydreaming. We've got customers.
McCray nods and ducks away to the back with her stack of dirty dishes. There's one quick, wistful glance over her shoulder as she departs. Maggie follows the direction and her own gaze lands on Hardcastle. She frowns for a moment—puzzlement, not anger.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE STREET OUTSIDE THE DO DROP INN—DAY
A burly young man, LESTER KOOMS, strolls up. He's by one edge of the window. He shades his eyes and looks in.
KOOMS' POV
He takes in the lunch crowd but focuses on Kitty, now going about her business. Inside the café it's all a silent pantomime. Hardcastle rises from his place, picks up the bill and glances at it, digs out his wallet and leaves cash. As he moves toward the front door he passes in front of McCray who follows him with her eyes, then abruptly puts down her latest stack of dishes. She wipes her hands on her apron and pulls it off, abandoning it behind the counter. We see Hardcastle say something undoubtedly complimentary to Maggie, then head out the door. Maggie is looking at him as McCray ducks through the doorway to the back.
RESUME EXT. OF THE DO DROP INN
HARDCASTLE is coming out the door. KOOMS drops back, standing casually with his hands in his pockets, looking in the window of the store next to the café. As Hardcastle starts walking up the street, in the direction of the service station, McCRAY emerges from the alleyway alongside the café. She spots Hardcastle, hesitates for a second, then hurries to catch up with him. Kooms, standing in the background, watches for a moment, then frowns and turns and walks away. Hardcastle, hearing footsteps coming up behind him, turns and spots McCray as she approaches.
HARDCASTLE
(puzzled)
Ah…?
McCRAY
(breathless as she comes to a halt near him)
Are you a judge or something?
HARDCASTLE
(now even more puzzled)
'Or something'—Yeah. Milt Hardcastle. Superior Court. Retired.
(he smiles)
McCRAY
Retired? So that means you're not a judge anymore?
Hardcastle protrudes his lower lip just slightly and shakes his head in a silent "no". McCray looks crestfallen.
HARDCASTLE
Is there something I can do for you, Miss, ah…?
McCRAY
Kitty…Kitty McCray.
(looks disappointed with her catch but not willing to throw him back yet)
You're still a lawyer though, right?
HARDCASTLE
(smiles—glances around)
If we're still in California I'm still a lawyer.
McCray seems momentarily confused.
HARDCASTLE
(clarifies hastily)
Certified by the State Bar of California. That's how it works, see?
McCray looks slightly less mystified. She nods.
HARDCASTLE
(in a helpful mood)
You have a legal problem?
McCray suddenly appears a little less forthcoming. She glances over her shoulder as if someone might have followed her. The street is empty. Hardcastle frowns, but waits patiently. It's too soon to go back to the service station anyhow. She finally turns back to him and leans in, looking very earnest.
McCRAY
My grandmother. She died a couple weeks ago.
HARDCASTLE
(the smile drops off his face)
Oh—sorry to hear that.
McCRAY
She was murdered.
There's a moment of awkward silence. Hardcastle really should've seen this one coming. He starts up again though with no further hesitance.
HARDCASTLE
You talked to the police?
McCRAY
'Police?' You mean Sheriff Larcom.
(there's a hint of disgust in her tone) He says she was old, and she died, and that's all there is to it.
Hardcastle nods sagely, though it's not clear whose side he's taking in that argument.
McCRAY
She was fine. She said she was doing okay. I talked to her on the phone.
HARDCASTLE
(neutrally)
You were away?
McCray nods. Sadness overtakes her anger.
HARDCASTLE
(understanding)
It's hard to not be there when somebody needs you.
McCRAY
(near tears)
I shouldn't've gone. I wanted to come back. They wouldn't let me come home until after she was dead and buried.
HARDCASTLE
(starting to see the outline a little clearer)
Ah, you were in the hospital?
McCray nods sadly.
HARDCASTLE
What for?
McCRAY
(makes a vague movement with her hand)
My nerves.
(she strings that last word out a little, with a note of sarcasm)
HARDCASTLE
(there a beat, he's searching for the right thing to say, and then, quietly:)
She probably didn't want to worry you, telling you she felt fine and all that.
McCray might've been drifting off a bit, into memory, but she gives him a sharp, penetrating look. She's heard all this before.
HARDCASTLE
(looking a little uncomfortable)
What about your folks—your mom and dad?
McCRAY
Mom?
(shakes her head)
Haven't seen her in a while. She comes and goes. Mostly goes. I've always lived with my grandma.
HARDCASTLE
How old are you?
McCRAY
(a hint of defiance)
Eighteeen, okay?
(beat)
Listen, I just want them to dig her up and… and figure out how they killed her. That's all.
(voice rising)
And Sheriff Larcom and all the rest of 'em tell me I've got no right and I should just let her rest in peace.
HARDCASTLE
(cocks his head)
He's right, you know. If a doctor signs a death certificate and somebody get buried, it takes some evidence to get an exhumation order. Do you have any of that?
McCRAY
(looks disappointed in him)
Nobody believes me.
HARDCASTLE
I didn't say I didn't believe you. It's just that you haven't given me anything to believe.
McCRAY
(withdrawing—talking more to herself now)
They killed her. She's dead and nobody will listen.
She turns away. Hardcastle watches her depart. His hands are in his pockets. He glances over his shoulder in the direction of the service station, then back at McCray, who's walking, head down.
HARDCASTLE
(raises his voice to call after her)
Listen, I can talk to this sheriff of yours, see what he says.
She lifts her head and looks back toward him.
HARDCASTLE
I can't promise you anything, but I find out what's what; is that okay?
Her expression is suddenly hopeful. She nods eagerly.
HARDCASTLE
(trying to rein her hopes a little)
That doesn't mean anything will change.
McCRAY
You're a judge; he'll listen to you.
HARDCASTLE
I'm an ex-judge. And I'll listen to him. See if anything sounds hinky.
McCRAY
You'll see. You will.
(suddenly seems to be aware of something)
Oh…Maggie's gonna be mad. I gotta get back to the place.
HARDCASTLE
(makes a shooing motion with his hand)
Go on, then.
She trots off. It's close to a skip and makes her look considerably younger than her stated age. He watches her go, then shakes his head and stuffs his hands back in his pockets. The wry smile on his face fades into something more like concern and that's punctuated by a sigh.
Hold on that and then,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE STREET IN FRONT OF THE DO DROP INN—DAY
KITTY McCRAY is still practically skipping as she heads up the alleyway next to the café. Obviously, happy or not, she's going to try and sneak in the back unnoticed.
ANGLE—PULL BACK
LESTER KOOMS is in the shadow of a doorway across the street. He doesn't look happy. He watches McCRAY's departure down the alley and then transfers his gaze up the street in the direction from which she came.
Hold on his scowl and then,
CUT TO:
EXT. HANK'S SERVICE STATION—DAY
Hardcastle ambles up to where the truck is parked, his hands still in pockets. He looks deep in thought but maybe not quite as impatient as before. HANK must have seen him coming; he steps out of the service bay, wiping his hands on a rag, looking a little nervous.
HARDCASTLE
(thumps the hood of the vehicle affectionately)
So what's the verdict?
HANK
Well, we got some good news and some bad news. The good news is I found the problem—your pump failed.
HARDCASTLE
That's good news, huh?
HANK
Sure, I can pop that baby out and have a new one in pretty quick,
(beat)
if that was all it was.
HARDCASTLE
But it's not, huh?
HANK
Uh-uh,
(shakes his head sympathetically)
Blew your gasket.
Hardcastle looks blank.
HANK
Cracked the cylinder head.
Hardcastle still looks blank. Hank's running out of alternative terminology.
HANK
Too much heat makes things warp and break. It'll take time for the new parts to get here and then more time for me to take it apart and fix it.
(glances down at his watch)
Figure it's about two, now. I might have you back on the road by noon tomorrow.
(beat)
Sorry, best I can do. And that's if they got what I need in Fresno.
HARDCASTLE
(not exactly pleased, but surprisingly complacent)
Noon, huh?
HANK
Noon, earliest.
HARDCASTLE
You got a motel or hotel around here?
HANK
(scratches head)
The Kogan Hotel closed up about ten years ago. We got a bed and breakfast—the lady who ran it up and died a while back.
(looks doubtful)
Don't know if her granddaughter's still taking in lodgers.
Hardcastle seems to be weighing the odds. This includes a brief glance over his shoulder, as if considering the smallness of the town. Play the beat and then, turning back to the mechanic,
HARDCASTLE
The lady's name wasn't McCray by any chance?
HANK
Oh, you met our Kitty, huh?
(knowing smile)
Yeah, her Grandma Erma ran the place. She was a real good cook, as good as Maggie, I'd say. Now Kitty,
(beat, he's searching for the right word)
she's—
HARDCASTLE
Different?
Hank gives him an odd look. It might be the word he would have used, but maybe he doesn't like hearing it voiced by an outsider.
HARDCASTLE
(sensing the coolness)
We met. She had a legal question.
HANK
You're a lawyer?
HARDCASTLE
Is it going to raise the estimate?
Hank grins and shrugs.
HARDCASTLE
Yeah, I'm a lawyer. I used to be a judge. I'm retired, though.
(sighs)
Well, lemme sign whatever you want me to sign so you can order those parts and get rolling on this.
Hank pulls out a trifolded paper and a pen from his hip pocket. Hardcastle gives it a cursory glance, ending with a dyspeptic grimace at the bottom line. He flattens the paper out on the hood of the truck and scrawls his name then hands it all back to Hank, then reaches into the cab of the truck and pulls out a small satchel.
HARDCASTLE
I guess you can leave a message for me at the Do Drop Inn, if there's anything else that comes up.
Hank nods as he folds the paper back up. Hardcastle starts to turn away and then pauses abruptly.
HARDCASTLE
Oh, one other thing—
(beat)
You know where I can find Sheriff Larcom?
Hank looks up at him, startled. Play that and then,
CUT TO:
EXT. A ONE-STORY SHERIFF'S HEADQUARTER'S—DAY
It shares a certain esprit d'architecture with the sheriff's office of "You Don't Hear the One That Gets You"—minus the ethnic slurs graffitied on the front door. All appears peaceful in the burg of Koganville.
INT. SHERIFF LARCOM'S OFFICE—DAY
LARCOM is behind his cluttered desk, looking like the kind of experienced professional lawman you'd want minding your small town. He's got salt-and-pepper hair, a weathered face, and a thoughtful expression. HARDCASTLE is occupying the visitor's chair facing the desk.
LARCOM
(patiently)
You have to understand, Mr. Hardcastle. Kitty McCray is a kinda special girl. High strung, if you know what I mean. Heck, her momma's the same way.
HARDCASTLE
And the part where she says her grandmother was murdered—that's just youthful high spirits then? A vivid imagination?
LARCOM
(frowning, then reluctantly confidential)
You know it's a little more than that, don't you? I mean, she talked to you.
HARDCASTLE
Then there was nothing suspicious about her grandmother's death, nothing that struck you odd?
LARCOM
(indignant)
Hell no. But you don't have to take my word for it. Ask Doc Springer. He looked after her when she got sick. My God, the woman was in her 80s. She went by ambulance to the county hospital. They did everything they could for her.
(he gathers himself a little)
Kitty—she was away then. She was sick herself.
(he stops, rather pointedly, as if he doesn't intend to go there—there's a beat and then:)
Just talk to Doc Springer.
(another beat)
And for God's sake, don't get Kitty all riled up on the subject. It's been three months; I thought she was settling down some.
HARDCASTLE
(surprised)
Three months?
LARCOM
Yeah, more or less. More, come to think of it, a week or two more.
(squints slightly)
Why, what'd she say?
HARDCASTLE
(puzzled)
I'da sworn she said it was a couple weeks ago.
LARCOM
(sharp and fast)
Damn.
HARDCASTLE
Mighta been my mistake—a misunderstanding.
LARCOM
(shaking his head)
Nah. No. I doubt it. That's Kitty when her screws get loose. Next thing you know she'll be saying we all took turns killing Erma and I'm covering the whole thing up.
HARDCASTLE
(matter-of-factly)
You're not, are you?
Larcom stares at him for a moment, then cracks a thin smile.
LARCOM
You've got an odd sense of humor, Mr. Hardcastle.
(then he stands slowly, the interview is obviously over)
Everybody in this town loved Erma. Kitty's one of ours, too.
(beat)
You talk to Doc Springer.
Hardcastle rises as well. Maintaining a calm and polite demeanor; he turns and heads for the door. Just as he reaches for the knob he half turns, casting a look back at the sheriff.
HARDCASTLE
"Screws loose"—I think that's what you said, wasn't it?
Larcom swallows once, looking a little guilty but finally giving that a single tight nod.
LARCOM
Might not've been the right—
Hardcastle cuts him off with a wave of his hand.
HARDCASTLE
I just want to know if you're saying she might be dangerous.
LARCOM
(indignant again)
'Course not. I didn't say anything like—
HARDCASTLE
(cutting him off again)
Good. Just thought I oughta ask. I'm stuck here overnight, looks like, and I figured since she's got rooms to spare, I'd ask if she's willing to take a boarder.
(he nods once, friendly-like, then turns back to the door and exits)
The camera following him through the main public room of the sheriff's headquarters where a DEPUTY glances up from a file drawer he's working on. Hardcastle spares a wave for him, too, and gets a puzzled look back.
ANGLE—BACK TOWARD LARCOM'S OFFICE
Larcom is standing in the doorway. His expression is very flat. There's just a hint of disapproval. Hold on that and,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE DO DROP INN—LATE AFTERNOON
HARDCASTLE is seen ambling down the sidewalk on that side of the street. He approaches the door.
INT. THE DO DROP INN—LATE AFTERNOON
The lunch rush is long over. There are just a couple of customers lingering over coffee. HARDCASTLE enters, looks around. MAGGIE is toting up receipts at the counter.
She looks up as he walks in.
MAGGIE
(smiles)
Back for seconds?
HARDCASTLE
(steps over to the register, returns the smile)
That was a mighty fine meatloaf, and it looks like I'll be sticking around for supper.
(leans in)
Truck trouble.
(hooks thumb over his shoulder)
Hank's working on it.
MAGGIE
He's good. You want a booth or is the counter okay?
HARDCASTLE
Counter's fine.
(refuses the menu she offers)
Meatloaf's fine, too.
(his gaze is still wandering)
Did Kitty leave yet?
Maggie had started to turn away. She stiffens slightly and looks back at him.
HARDCASTLE
Hank's waiting on parts from Fresno and he said her family used to have rooms for let.
Maggie is facing him now. She casts a quick glance at the doorway to the kitchen and then,
MAGGIE
(hesitant)
Kitty…well she's—
HARDCASTLE
(interrupts gently)
I met her this afternoon.
MAGGIE
(sighs)
I thought that might've been you she went haring out of here after.
HARDCASTLE
She wanted to ask me a question.
Maggie looks puzzled.
HARDCASTLE
A legal question.
Maggie makes an almost immediate and unuttered "o", followed by a frown. She leans in over the counter.
MAGGIE
She's a good girl, really. Just a little, ah, fixated, that's all.
HARDCASTLE
So there's nothing to it?
MAGGIE
(quiet but emphatic)
No. 'Course not. Talk to Doc Springer. Talk to anybody. They'll tell you the same thing.
(beat)
I just wouldn't want anybody to get her all fussed up, that's all. She's had a rough time—her mama running around and her gramma passing like that.
HARDCASTLE
Her mom?
MAGGIE
(waves a hand)
Eve. She's too old for that kind of nonsense. She runs off, goes to the coast, wherever. The first time she wasn't any older than Kitty is now, and when she came back, she had the baby with her.
(beat)
"Summer of Love"—my Aunt Fanny.
(looks disgusted)
Erma was always more of a mother to Kitty than Evie is.
HARDCASTLE
Sounds like it.
Maggie nods and turns again toward the kitchen.
ANGLE—INCLUDES THE DOOR TO THE KITCHEN.
KITTY McCRAY is standing in it, holding a dishtowel. It's not clear how long she's been there. Maggie looks a little self-conscious. McCRAY ignores her. She's only fixed on Hardcastle.
MAGGIE
(slightly flustered)
Oh, Kitty. I was just coming to look for you. Hank's fixing this gentleman's truck. He's looking for a room for the night.
(glances back at Hardcastle)
You do have references? Erma always insisted on references…though if it's just for one night—
McCRAY
(she's giving Hardcastle a very penetrating look)
It's okay.
HARDCASTLE
How much for the night?
McCRAY
(seems startled by the question)
Ah…ten dollars—is that okay? Breakfast's included.
HARDCASTLE
It's a deal.
(reaches for his wallet)
If you want references, I've got a friend in L.A. who's a police lieutenant.
(smiles as he opens the wallet and pulls out two fives)
He'll probably vouch for me.
McCRAY
No,
(steps over and takes the money; she's not in a joking mood)
I trust you.
Hold on that and,
CUT TO:
EXT. AN OLD HOUSE—NIGHT
It's a rambling Victorian: white wood with some gingerbread, and a spacious porch that wraps halfway around one side. Obviously some of the early Koganville settlers had money. There's evidence that the place has fallen on harder times, with paint peeling on the window frames. An old SIGN is fastened to a post is chipped and fading. It reads, "McCray House. Est. 1898. Rooms to let. References required. Inquire within."
INT. THE McCRAY HOUSE, A GUEST BEDROOM—NIGHT
HARDCASTLE is taking things out of his satchel: toiletries, some folded items of clothing. The room is a little fussy and old-fashioned but he seems perfectly at home there. As he's arranging the items we hear an odd keening whistle outside. It's just the sort of sound one might hear on the sound track of a movie thriller. Hardcastle stops what he's doing and cocks his head, then steps over, turns the TABLE LAMP off, and moves toward the window, edging up on it slightly from the side. We can still see him by the light from the hallway behind him. He's peering intently out the window. The whistle is heard again, closer. He frowns, turns and heads for the hallway. He encounters KITTY McCRAY in the hall. She's standing there, in nightgown and clutching her robe closed, looking anxious. He puts a finger to his lips and motions for her to stay put, then he heads for the darkened front room, picking up a FIREPLACE TOOL as he passes through.
EXT. THE McCRAY HOUSE—NIGHT
Hardcastle steps out, onto the porch, fire poker down at his side. He's listening carefully. We hear another whistle. He moves down the porch steps stealthily and heads toward the side of the house.
HARDCASTLE'S POV
Something's moving in the bushes near the side of the house. The whistle starts again.
HARDCASTLE
(stepping forward, brandishing the poker)
Whoever the hell you are, you're on private property.
The whistle stops abruptly with the first word out of Hardcastle's mouth. There's some rustling and the sound of footfalls on gravel, retreating. Hardcastle stands there for a moment, then slowly lowers the poker. There's a flutter of white as KITTY McCRAY comes up from behind him.
McCRAY
(frightened)
What was it?
HARDCASTLE
Not a 'what'—a who.
(beat)
That the first time something like this has happened?
There's a momentary hesitation before she nods. Hardcastle gives her a hard look but doesn't try to push the issue. He puts his free arm around her shoulders and escorts her back to the house. As they mount the steps he says,
HARDCASTLE
I think I better make a phone call.
McCRAY
No phone.
Off a surprised look from Hardcastle:
McCRAY
Couldn't pay the bill. There's nobody I call much anyway.
Hardcastle reaches for the door and holds it open for her. She passes through. He looks over his shoulder into the darkness for a moment, then follows her in.
Hold on the closed door for a moment and then,
CUT TO BLACK
FADE IN:
EXT. GULL'S WAY—NIGHT
INT. THE GATEHOUSE—NIGHT
McCORMICK is still at it, with books piled up on the coffee table, now joined by the remains of a pizza—not many remains—in a cardboard box off to one side. In the midst of this tranquility the PHONE rings. He grabs for it.
McCORMICK
Gull's Way Center for Tort Reform, McCormick speaking.
CUT TO:
INT. A HOTEL CONFERENCE ROOM—NIGHT
ARNIE SANDOVAL, all-around conference good guy, is on the phone at a work table that's otherwise cluttered with schedules and lists. There's the usual mayhem in the background. He's got his finger in his other ear.
SANDOVAL
That you, Mark? It's me, Arnie. Don't tell me you've gone over to the dark side. Torts paid for all my kids' orthodontia.
(beat)
Will ya get Milt on the phone for me?
INTERCUT:
McCORMICK
(suddenly a lot more interested)
He's not there yet?
SANDOVAL
Nope. I thought he might be mad at us 'cause he didn't make the cut this year for the Blind Lady of Justice Award. I thought he deserved another whack at it but the nominating committee didn't want a repeat of the shoot-out.
McCORMICK
(peeved for several reasons now)
You know that wasn't his fault. You aren't sharing the hotel with a bunch of mobsters this year, are you?
SANDOVAL
No, got some Tupperware ladies, I think. Anyway, it's dull as dirt without Milt. When's he supposed to get here?
McCORMICK
Hours ago.
(beat)
He got stuck in some little hick town that's on the damn scenic route.
(talking more to himself)
He shoulda called me back.
(glances down at his watch)
Look, Arnie, I gotta run.
(goes hunting for his loafers again, knocks the pizza box off the table and scrambles to grab it)
Gotta go. Might get him there for the banquet. No promises, okay?
SANDOVAL
Okay.
(sincerely)
Tell him I want him to be a presenter—a seat on the dais and everything. That'll cheer him up.
He hangs up, sitting wistfully in the midst of barely-controlled chaos. A paper airplane sails by.
RESUME SCENE:
McCORMICK has hung up the receiver at his end. After a beat he picks it up again and dials a number. There's another pause and then,
McCORMICK
Directory assistance? Koganville, California.
(beat)
Yeah. I'm looking for a hotel or a motel.
(beat)
No, I don't know the name of it. There might be more than one.
(beat, then slightly more impatient)
If I knew the address I'd probably know the phone number, too. Just give me one. Any of them. Hotel or motel. Either.
(beat, looks perplexed)
None? Not any? Not even nearby?
(he's frowning, then distractedly:)
Thanks.
He hangs up, still distracted. His puzzled frown holds for a beat, and then he spots his loafers, pulls them on, and heads up the stairs to the loft.
ANGLE—THE LOFT LOOKING TOWARD THE TOP OF THE STAIRS
McCormick grabs a small duffle from under the bed and starts packing hastily. This involves at least one item of clothing from the floor, which apparently passes the sniff test. He stuffs the last thing in, zips the bag up with some difficulty, then pulls open the bottom desk drawer, riffles through the contents, and grabs what he needs: a California ROAD MAP. It looks well-used. He unfolds it on the desk, runs his finger up a route and spots what he wants. Then he refolds it, relevant part out, takes it and the duffle bag, and starts down the stairs, dropping out of sight as he thumps on the steps.
ANGLE—OVER THE LOFT BALCONY TO THE ROOM BELOW
McCormick heads for the door and exits. There's a moment of silent stillness, about a three-count, and then the door bangs open again. McCormick hustles back in, snatches up the nearest textbook to hand and, barely breaking stride, is gone again.
Hold on the still-cluttered coffee table for a beat and then,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE McCRAY HOUSE—MORNING
By daylight it looks less run down, mostly on account of the profusion of flowers growing in the yard. There are trellis-climbing clematis, and beds of zinnias and black-eyed Susans. The effect is rustic rather than elegant, but things are clearly being tended.
INT. THE McCRAY KITCHEN—MORNING
HARDCASTLE is seated at the table, a plate of eggs and bacon, with toast and jam. KITTY McCRAY is fetching the percolator from the counter.
McCRAY
(eager to please)
You sure you don't want some pancakes? I make a mean stack of pancakes. Even Maggie says they're good.
HARDCASTLE
I'll be stuffed as it is. I won't be able to buckle my belt.
McCray finishes pouring the coffee and puts the pot back on the counter.
HARDCASTLE
You oughta sit down and have some, too.
She stands by the counter, facing him but not making any move to sit. She wipes her hands on her apron in a nervous gesture.
HARDCASTLE
(eyeing her carefully)
Still no idea who your midnight visitor might've been?
She shakes her head.
HARDCASTLE
(Picking his way into this minefield slowly, with no mention of the word 'murder')
You think it has anything to do with your grandma?
McCRAY
(she frowns as though she's giving it some thought, and finally shrugs and says:)
Maybe.
(beat, then her shoulders sag and she slumps over to a chair)
Maybe I've heard stuff before, but I was afraid to tell anybody.
(she cocks her head and looks at him out of the corners of her eyes)
Maybe I figured they'd think I was crazy.
HARDCASTLE
(heaves a sigh, shakes his head)
Okay, so I heard it, too. And I'm pretty sure I'm not crazy.
McCRAY
What about me?
HARDCASTLE
(there's a beat, and then he starts out slow and absolutely honest)
I think I don't know you well enough to say one way or another.
McCray quirks a small smile at him. This is the first one we've seen on her and it suits her better than her earlier wariness.
HARDCASTLE
Listen, I need to talk to that doctor, the one who was taking care of your grandma.
McCRAY
(neutral tone, but it sounds as if it's a bit of an effort)
Dr. Springer.
HARDCASTLE
Yeah.
(casually)
He's your doctor, too, isn't he?
McCray nods.
HARDCASTLE
Is it okay if he tells me about what happened while you were in the hospital?
McCRAY
(a hint of bitterness)
You mean about me?
HARDCASTLE
(firm)
Everything. I won't know what's important until I hear it.
There's another beat, and then she nods again.
HARDCASTLE
(sits back, looks almost satisfied, but there's one more thing)
You want me to walk you over to Maggie's?
McCRAY
(shakes her head)
I'm off today.
Hardcastle doesn't look too keen on leaving her to her own devices.
McCRAY
I'm fine. Just some stupid guy trying to be funny last night. Some of them are like that. Go on, talk to Springer. I've got stuff to do. The spare key's on the hook by the door.
She sounds very calm—very normal. She's bustling around now and opens a drawer. She takes out an old-fashioned SCISSORS. It has a black enameled handle that's slightly chipped. She gives him one last nod and then heads for the side door and out. As Hardcastle shovels in a few last bite of breakfast, we see her through the kitchen window, gathering flowers from the garden. Now her movements seem a bit more anxious and jerky, as she cuts through the stems.
ANGLE - PULL BACK
Hardcastle stands, watching her for a moment then sighing as he gathers up his plate and carries it to the sink. He wipes his hands quickly and lifts the key of the hook by the door, then exits.
Hold on that and,
CUT TO:
EXT. A STOREFRONT OFFICE—DAY
The sign reads: Dr. Lamott Springer M.D., Family Practice.
INT. THE DOCTOR"S WAITING ROOM—DAY
It's small and utilitarian with the usual posters on the walls exhorting healthful behavior. Hardcastle occupies one of the vinyl-covered chairs in the otherwise empty room, perusing a back issue of Field and Stream. It doesn't look as if Dr. Springer's practice is generating much beyond operating expenses. A young mother with a peevish child emerges from the back, being given some last-minute murmured words of counsel by a middle-aged woman wearing a slightly out-of-date nurse's outfit.
NURSE
Don't forget the Tylenol. And call if he's not improving.
The mother nods, gathers her child up, and departs.
NURSE
(frowning)
Dr. Springer will see you now, Mr., ah—?
HARDCASTLE
(smiles as he stands)
Hardcastle, Milt.
NURSE
(seems totally resistant to the ol' Hardcastle charm)
This way.
(she ushers him back)
ANGLE—IN SPRINGER'S OFFICE.
It's small, like the waiting room, but the shelves are burdened with well-thumbed medical books and there are the proper certificates and diplomas on the wall. SPRINGER is at his desk, scribbling diligently in a chart. He's slightly older than the nurse, and perhaps ten years younger than Hardcastle. His hairline, but not his dedication, is receding. He looks up as Hardcastle enters. He doesn't look particularly surprised or puzzled.
SPRINGER
is it?
HARDCASTLE
The sheriff gave you a heads-up, huh?
SPRINGER
Have a seat.
(he gestures to the chair and smiles)
It's a small town. I got a call from Larcom, then I ran into Hank at Maggie's place this morning.
(beat)
He says the parts should be here by noon or so.
Hardcastle chuckles.
SPRINGER
(an abrupt change of expression—a flash of worry)
How's Kitty?
HARDCASTLE
(purses his lips momentarily)
I guess I was going to ask you that same question.
Springer frowns.
HARDCASTLE
She knows I'm here. I told her I'd have to ask you about her. She told me to talk to you. Everybody's told me to talk to you.
SPRINGER
Everybody's worried about Kitty. She's had a rough couple of months.
HARDCASTLE
Sound like more than 'rough'.
SPRINGER
It was.
(looks momentarily circumspect, then caves in to practicality, he wants Hardcastle to understand)
It was a helluva lot more. First her mom takes off, that's what triggered it—
HARDCASTLE
Triggered what?
SPRINGER
The psychotic break.
(shakes his head)
I'm not a psychiatrist, but it didn't take a specialist to make that diagnosis: delusional, hearing the voices.
HARDCASTLE
Violent?
SPRINGER
(looks reluctant again)
That wasn't the main thing.
HARDCASTLE
How was her grandmother then?
SPRINGER
Shaken.
(beat)
But I don't think she was ever afraid of Kitty. Afraid for her.
HARDCASTLE
So Kitty was committed?
SPRINGER
The adolescent unit over in Fayette took her on a three-day involuntary. She took the separation hard. Lots of paranoid ideation. I was part of that.
HARDCASTLE
So three days became a couple of weeks.
SPRINGER
And in the middle of that, Erma took a fall on the stairs. Broke her hip, and lay on the floor overnight before anyone thought to look for her.
HARDCASTLE
And we're sure that was an accident?
SPRINGER
(for the first time, he looks irritated)
That's what Erma said. She was awake when they found her.
HARDCASTLE
But—
SPRINGER
Pneumonia. Sepsis. That's probably why she fell in the first place. She was old, and tired, and had been carrying a big load for a long time. First her daughter, then her granddaughter.
HARDCASTLE
And the coroner—
SPRINGER
She died in the community hospital in Porterville. It's small, but it's good. I'm not on staff there. Dr. Phelps took care of her and he's a good man. He signed the death certificate and the coroner said the body could be released.
HARDCASTLE
To who? Kitty was still in the psych ward.
SPRINGER
They were going to handle her as an unclaimed indigent. Kitty wouldn't have had even had a grave to come home to.
(beat)
It's a small town. We take care of our own. I don't expect you to understand that, Mr. Hardcastle.
HARDCASTLE
(his smile is closer to a grimace)
Oh, I've spent some time in a small town, Doc.
SPRINGER
(not looking appeased)
We got together, made the plans. Bill Lovell—he owns the funeral home—he did everything at cost and threw in the services for free. We all pitched in on the grave marker.
HARDCASTLE
A community project.
(sighs)
But nobody invited Miss McCray to the proceedings?
SPRINGER
They don't do involuntary commitments lightly, you know. The system's bursting at the seams. Erma would've wanted Kitty to stay where she was until it was safe for her to be discharged.
HARDCASTLE
Okay, so Kitty's one of your own and everyone wanted what was best for her. How 'bout now, since she's been released and started accusing you all of murder?
SPRINGER
It hasn't been easy.
(looks like he's had just about all he can take)
But it had been getting better.
(he's giving Hardcastle a pointed stare)
HARDCASTLE
All I did was order the blue plate special and make a phone call. If that's all it took, I'd say it wasn't buried very deep.
SPRINGER
(frowns for a moment and then gives a reluctant nod)
You have a point, I suppose. It's the nature of the disease. But you'll be hauling out of here as soon as Hank puts your truck back together. It's the rest of us who'll have to deal with the fallout.
HARDCASTLE
(practically)
Then maybe we ought to make sure Miss McCray has the story right. It's not too late for an autopsy.
SPRINGER
(cooler)
This is paranoid delusion, Mr. Hardcastle, pure and simple. Everyone here realizes it. The psychiatric staff who evaluated her recognized it. In the face of that, no amount of reasoned evidence is going to do any good.
(beat)
I'm afraid I don't have any more time to discuss this with you.
Springer stands, bringing the interview to a close. Hardcastle takes the hint. As he leaves, the camera lingers on Springer's face. There's controlled anger there, but also an element of concern.
Play that and,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE ROAD AT THE OUTSKIRTS OF TOWN—DAY
KITTY McCRAY is walking along steadily, with a sense of purpose. She's just past Hank's service station, heading toward the edge of town. Her head is down. She's clutching a generous bunch of flowers. We recognize the selection as being from the McCray garden. A dark-colored paneled van is seen coming up the road from behind her. It slows, and now we can see the driver is LESTER KOOMS. He slows as he approaches her, but it quickly becomes apparent that it's not out of caution over her safety. He's got his window rolled down and he leans out, his left arm all the way out of the window. He whacks the side of the van. Kitty jumps slightly and then glances over her shoulder. She quickly returns her stare to the ground in front of her, picking up her pace a little and doing her best to ignore him.
KOOMS
(in a singsong)
Here, kitty kitty.
She walks a bit faster.
KOOMS
Aw, come on, Kitty. You're not scared, are ya?
She is, but she knows better than to break into a run. He's parallel with her now, just creeping along. He jerks the wheel slightly, forcing her to jump aside. She glances a scowl at him and starts forward again. He reaches out and makes a swipe at her flowers. That, and her attempt to save them, knocks half of them to the ground. Kooms pulls ahead slightly, hits his brakes, throws his car into "park" and opens his door, blocking her way.
CUT TO:
INT. THE COYOTE—MOVING—DAY
McCORMICK is driving one-handed and consulting his map. He lifts his eyes just in time to see the "Welcome to Koganville" sign. He flashes a momentarily satisfied smile which just as quickly vanishes.
POV McCORMICK
He sees the van at the side of the road and LESTER KOOMS getting into KITTY McCRAY'S personal space. She's backing up a little. McCormick brakes and pulls onto the shoulder of the road, tight in front of the van.
ANGLE—THE ROADSIDE
Kooms glances up at the intruding vehicle with a look of displeasure. Kitty has stopped backing up. McCormick climbs up out of the Coyote, map in hand and pivots to the ground. He closes the space between him and the other two, smiling and waving his map.
McCORMICK
(hale and friendly, but honing in on Kooms)
Wonder if you could help me out. I'm not from around here. Any idea how far it is to Koganville?
KOOMS
(looking annoyed)
You're here. It's right up this road.
(he turns and points, then turns back to find McCormick even closer, holding out the map)
McCORMICK
(still smiling broadly, but rarely have facial expression and body language been more out of sync)
Really?
(glances down at the map)
I thought I took a wrong turn back there. You're sure this is the right road?
KOOMS
(irritated now)
Sure I'm sure. I've lived here all my life.
McCORMICK
(leans in closer—he's lighter but taller than Kooms)
Guess you must know, then, huh?
(he's now in the guy's face—still smiling but there's an edge to it)
Kooms holds his position for a half beat. He's uncomfortable but probably hasn't figured out why yet. He finally wavers, then takes a step back.
KOOMS
(uncertain)
Yeah, well, it's right up the road, like I said.
Kooms is in full retreat, climbing back into his van. McCormick leans on the door with his free hand, still shoving the map in Kooms' direction.
McCORMICK
(his tone becomes more menacing, though the words are still banal)
You sure?
Kooms, bolder now from the safety of his car, snatches the map out of the way.
KOOMS
Hell, yeah.
The Coyote is in his way. He looks over his shoulder, puts the van into reverse, and makes an awkward three-point turn, heading back the way he came. In the course of the maneuver we see the lettering on the side of the van: "LOVELL FAMILY FUNERAL HOME, We're here when you need us." McCormick, now empty-handed, stares as Kooms careens off down the road. He finally lets out a pent-up sigh of relief.
McCORMICK
(still looking in the direction of the van, as he muses)
I've always figured the best thing to do with bullies is confuse the hell out of 'em.
(he turns back and sees McCray is stooping and hurriedly gathering up flowers)
Oh, here, lemme help.
(he picks one up, it's half-crushed and the stem is broken—he frowns at it and hands it to McCray, who accepts it solemnly)
Sorry.
McCRAY
Thank you.
She nods once shyly and then scurries off the way she was previously headed. Mark stares after her for a moment, then shakes his head in bemusement.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE LOVELL FUNERAL HOME—DAY
It's an older brick building with Doric columns supporting the front porch and dark curtains in the windows.
INT. THE FUNERAL HOME—DAY
We're in the back room where the embalming takes place. There's nobody being processed right now. The metal table is wiped down. There's a heavy-hinged door to a walk-in cooler at the back of the room and an old desk, looking out of place among the metal and porcelain fixtures. BILL LOVELL, a middle-aged man with a look of long-practiced solicitude, sits at the desk. He's doing some paperwork. The back door is flung open and in stalks LESTER KOOMS muttering something that probably woudn't pass muster with the network censors.
LOVELL
(looks up, chronic solicitude gives way abruptly to aggravation)
Where've you been? I told you I wanted to do inventory today.
KOOMS
Yeah, yeah. I'm here, aren't I?
Lovell gives him a long hard look.
KOOMS
What?
LOVELL
The sheriff called this morning. He said there's a guy, some lawyer named Hardcastle, staying with Kitty McCray. He's asking all kinds of questions.
Kooms says nothing, but a nervous twitch gives him away.
LOVELL
(his expression shifts to disgust)
You pestering her again? You haven't got a lick of sense. Just leave the girl alone.
Kooms looks sullen.
LOVELL
(shakes his head)
I don't know what's the matter with you.
KOOMS
(jerks chin up suddenly)
Me? The hell with it. I don't know why everybody else puts up with her. The hell with her; she's the one stirring things up.
LOVELL
She's…ill.
KOOMS
(smirks)
She's nuts, like her mom was.
LOVELL
(losing his patience)
Shut up. And leave her alone or—
KOOMS
(interrupts sharply)
Or what? Tell me what you're gonna do, Mister Lovell.
Lovell's eyes narrow but there's a long beat of silence. Even Kooms seems to sense he's gone too far. He dredges up a fatuous grin.
KOOMS
Anyway, I'm here. Let's do the damn inventory.
Hold on Lovell's still silent stare and then,
CUT TO:
EXT—THE CEMETARY—DAY
The same one we saw in the opening sequence. KITTY enters through a gate, still bearing her now-damaged flowers. She passes stately old markers, heading directly for a modest and very recent stone. Her expression is solemn but as she approaches she becomes suddenly more perturbed.
McCRAY
(kneeling)
Oh, damn.
(she glances aside at the marker, which bears the name ERMA McCRAY, there's a quick flash of embarrassment)
Sorry.
We see what upset her a moment earlier. It's pieces of green glass, the remains of an inexpensive dime store vase lying at the base of the stone along with some wilted flowers that are similar to the ones McCray bears. She puts the new ones aside, propped against the stone.
McCRAY
(reaching to gather up the pieces then pulling back suddenly)
Ow.
She looks down at her right hand; there's blood welling from a cut on her index finger. She frowns, reaches in her pocket for a tissue and rises clumsily. She looks forlornly at the mess and shakes her head, still clutching her finger. Looking around, she spots a faded arrangement of plastic flowers on a nearby grave. Ignoring her finger, she takes that display apart, and leaving those flowers lying awkwardly where they were, she puts her fresh ones into the vase and sets it on her grandmother's grave. She steps back, taking in the makeshift arrangement.
McCRAY
(shakes her head as she turns away, speaking softly to herself, or the dead, or both)
I'll be back; I'll fix everything.
Hold on her as she departs slowly, shoulders stooped, then,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE DO DROP INN—DAY
The Coyote pulls into a parking place out front. McCORMICK climbs out of the vehicle and heads for the door.
INT. THE DO DROP INN—DAY
It's a lazy Saturday morning, with only a few people scattered among the tables in groups of two or three. HARDCASTLE is at the back of the café holding the telephone receiver to his ear. It is apparently ringing ad infinitum. He grows dourer by the second. The door opens and he glances up. There is a momentary pleased and surprised look on his face. We see McCORMICK scan the room and light on him, but not before Hardcastle has swapped his grin for a more sober expression. McCormick tries a quick smile, then a sheepish shrug. Hardcastle shakes his head subtly and jerks his chin toward the door McCormick just came through. McCormick half turns back, looks puzzled very briefly, then takes the hint, exiting again. Hardcastle meanders back to the counter, takes a last swig from the cup, deposits enough money to cover the charge and a tip, and give Maggie, who's been oblivious to the whole interchange, a quick, friendly nod. He heads for the door and exits
EXT. THE DO DROP INN—DAY
McCORMICK has strolled down the street a little ways. HARDCASTLE steps out of the café and looks around. There's no one nearby. He joins McCormick, who's looking at him askance.
McCORMICK
Okay, I'm sorry. I know you said not to come up here, but the least you could've done was give me a call. Instead I hear about it from Arnie Sandoval.
HARDCASTLE
It needed more than a flushing.
McCORMICK
I know; I just talked to your mechanic.
Hardcastle narrows one eye.
McCORMICK
What? I'm entitled to take a professional interest.
(quick beat)
Anyway, Hank told me where to look for you.
(he sighs)
Okay, now you can chew me out for driving up here.
HARDCASTLE
(frowns, but it doesn't seem particularly directed at McCormick)
Well, first off, I did try to call—
(beat, and then a bit sheepish himself)
just now.
McCormick gives him a disbelieving look.
HARDCASTLE
And second—
(this is a little harder)
I think I'm kinda glad you dropped everything and came running up here.
McCORMICK
(continued disbelief—it might be true but he never thought he'd hear it)
Huh?
HARDCASTLE
Yeah, well, I'm not exactly sure yet, but I think something's going on in this town.
Hold on that and,
CUT TO BLACK
FADE IN:
EXT. THE McCRAY HOUSE—DAY
McCORMICK (V.O.)
I let you go off on your own and look what happens.
INT. THE MCRAY KITCHEN—DAY
Hardcastle and McCormick are sitting at the kitchen table in mid-conversation. McCormick looks irritated.
HARDCASTLE
(an air of innocent indignation)
All I did was take the scenic route.
McCORMICK
And you admit the whole thing is a stretch—if something did happen to her grandmother, that would mean the sheriff and the doc were in on it, at least; maybe more.
HARDCASTLE
Not necessarily. We've really only have Springer's word for nearly everything.
McCORMICK
You think the Doc did it? What for?
HARDCASTLE
(shakes his head)
Nah, I'm just saying he might be making some wrong assumptions. If Erma had some help getting to death's door, it could have been from anyone. A poisoning, just something to make her dizzy—a fall down the stairs like that, what could be easier?
(beat)
'Course it might be the doc. He was the one who sent Kitty off to the loony bin. That could've just been an excuse to get her out of the way.
McCRAY (V.O.)
Get who out of the way?
ANGLE—TOWARD THE BACK DOOR OF THE KITCHEN
McCRAY is standing in the doorway. She's clutching her handkerchief in her right hand, neither blood nor cut is showing. She glances at McCormick and ventures a questioning smile.
HARDCASTLE
This is a friend of mine, Mark McCormick.
McCORMICK
We've met, sort of.
(to McCray)
Who was the guy giving you the hard time this morning?
Hardcastle looks startled, then shoots a glance at McCray. She's misplaced her smile as she edges into the kitchen but doesn't take a seat.
McCRAY
That's Lester. Lester Kooms.
(she frowns)
He's always been kinda mean. He's just like that.
HARDCASTLE
(to McCormick)
How hard a time?
McCORMICK
(to Hardcastle, without taking his eyes off McCray)
Didn't have a chance to find out how far he'd go.
McCRAY
(sighing impatiently)
That was him last night, I'm pretty sure. Stupid boy stuff.
HARDCASTLE
Pranks? Do you think he might've done something to hurt your grandmother? A prank that went wrong? Would she have covered for him? Doc Springer said it all started with a fall down the stairs.
McCRAY
That's what he says; him and the sheriff.
(looks doubtful)
And grams didn't like bullies. She didn't like Lester. If he'd hurt he, she wouldn't have lied for him.
(a long beat, and then to Hardcastle)
You believe me?
HARDCASTLE
(shakes his head hastily)
We're a little light on facts right now. I can't prove anything one way or another.
McCRAY
(looks satisfied)
You believe me—that something's wrong.
(nods once sharply)
It's a start.
She moves past them, toward a cabinet. She reaches up, opens it with her left hand, and takes a milk-glass vase down. She closes the cabinet door with the side of her right fist.
HARDCASTLE
We'll need another room for tonight.
McCRAY
(there's a near-smile now as she turns to the sink and puts the vase under the faucet)
No problem. I've got plenty of rooms. Hmm, top of the stairs, second door on the right, the one next to yours.
(as she lets the water run, she's suddenly more thoughtful)
I suppose one of them might've paid Lester.
(turns the faucet off, cocks her head over her shoulder)
Not that he wouldn't do it for free—be a bully, I mean. It's his nature.
(she picks up the half-full vase and carries it carefully to the back door, then cast another look back at them)
Lester,
(cocks her head again)
I never thought of him as a killer.
HARDCASTLE
(protesting)
I didn't say that.
It's futile. She's already through the doorway and gone. Hardcastle heaves a sigh and glances back at McCormick, who's giving him an amused look.
HARDCASTLE
(crusty)
Whaddaya staring at?
McCORMICK
(smiles)
A desperate man, I think. Was the judges' convention going to be that boring?
HARDCASTLE
Hmmph.
(beat)
I can't help it if the darn radiator gave up the ghost.
McCORMICK
Yeah, but most people would just have a cup of coffee in the local diner and catch up on the back issues of Newsweek. You have to go all Justice League.
HARDCASTLE
(sniffs)
I got as far as the cup of coffee.
(short beat)
What happened this morning with that guy, Lester what's-his-name?
McCORMICK
Kooms.
(frowns in recollection)
She was walking down the road. He must've been cruising by—
HARDCASTLE
Or following her.
McCORMICK
Objection, you're leading the witness.
HARDCASTLE
Sorry…and then?
McCORMICK
He'd pulled up next to her, crowding her. I have no idea what he was saying. I was driving by, I pulled over and asked for directions.
HARDCASTLE
(puzzled)
That's all?
McCORMICK
(smiles thinly)
It's all in how you ask.
(beat)
Anyway, he climbed back in his van, turned around, and took off back toward town.
(pauses and thinks for a moment, then looks up again)
It was a paneled van. Late 70s, Chevy G-series, dark green with the name of a funeral parlor on the side.
HARDCASTLE
(looks suddenly a lot more interested)
"Lovell's"?
McCORMICK
(has to think, finally nods)
Yeah, I think so. Why?
HARDCASTLE
Larcom, the sheriff, said they all pitched in for Erma McCray's funeral, and Bill Lovell did it for cost.
McCORMICK
That's, ah…nice. Must've liked her.
HARDCASTLE
Or they were in a hurry to get her in the ground.
McCormick gives him a wry look.
HARDCASTLE
I think I'll go see the undertaker, maybe ask him about his hired help. Wanna come?
McCORMICK
(sighs wearily)
Nah, I'm the guy who drove all night to get here. First room on the right upstairs?
HARDCASTLE
Second.
McCORMICK
You go on and have a good time. There's no stopping you anyway, once you get your hands on a can of worms.
HARDCASTLE
I'm just going to have a friendly chat with him.
McCORMICK
(smiles as he rises from the table)
Sure.
(beat)
Anyway, Lester deserves whatever happens to him.
McCormick is on his feet and not smiling as his walks past the table toward the hallway. Hardcastle remains seated, his expression equally uncheerful, despite what McCormick said about how much he enjoys stirring the pot. Hold on this and,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE FUNERAL HOME—DAY
The van is not in sight.
LOVELL (V.O.)
Lester's always been a handful, but I'm sure he'd never hurt anyone.
INT. THE FRONT OFFICE - DAY
BILL LOVELL is sitting behind his desk, his hands templed in front of him on the old-fashioned green desk blotter. HARDCASTLE is sitting across from him in an armchair designed to make a client feel at home, though it doesn't seem to be working in this instance.
HARDCASTLE
Has he always been hostile toward the McCrays?
LOVELL
(looks shocked)
'Hostile'? Good Lord, I wouldn't call it that. Anyway, he didn't have anything against Erma, not that I know of, and Erma wasn't one to keep quiet about a problem.
HARDCASTLE
So it's just Kitty.
LOVELL
(mouth set a little tighter)
You've heard what she's been saying about us—about the folks here. Most of us have tried to be understanding. She's had a rough time. But it might be a few people don't like being accused of murder.
HARDCASTLE
Like Lester.
Lovell says nothing.
HARDCASTLE
Don't suppose you know where he is.
LOVELL
(glances toward the hallway then back at Hardcastle, shaking his head again)
He was here earlier, but I sent him down to the cemetery. We've got the mowing contract with the township. He's probably still there.
HARDCASTLE
(as he starts to stand)
You might want to tell him something, for me: he ought to keep his distance from Ms. McCray.
LOVELL
(conciliatory)
He won't bother her anymore, I'll see to it.
Hardcastle grunts and steps toward the door. Lovell is on his feet, looking glad to be showing him out.
EXT. THE FUNERAL HOME—DAY
The door is open and Hardcastle has stepped through and is walking away, hands in pockets. He casts one last look back at the place, then ducks his chin and continues off.
ANGLE—
Closer in on Lovell, still standing in the doorway, staring at Hardcastle with a grim expression. Hold on that and then,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE CEMETARY—DAY
KITTY McCRAY approaches her grandmother's grave, carrying the milk-glass vase. She stoops and places it next to the one she borrowed then starts to reach for the flowers she left. She halts in mid-movement, looking puzzled.
ANGLE—CLOSE UP
The borrowed vase is exactly where she left it, but we see the handle of a familiar pair of scissors protruding from it, along with the stems.
ANGLE—PULL BACK
McCray jerks back a little, and reflexively slaps her pocket, which is empty. Then, looking puzzled, she starts to pull the scissors out. As the blades clear the vase we see that the water dripping from them is tinged blood-red. McCray gasps in horror and lets go of them with a jerk. They fall back into the vase. The vase is knocked off-balance, the ghastly fluid splashing as it falls. McCray jumps up and back, then stares down in horror at the vase and its scattered contents.
Simultaneously with the cut we hear a scream.
SMASH CUT:
CLOSE UP—McCORMICK'S FACE
He's horizontal, his eyes jerk open, but it's only a second later that we hear what is apparently some continued pounding on a door.
LARCOM (V.O.)
(distant shout)
Hardcastle? Open up.
McCormick frowns.
ANGLE—PULL BACK
He's in bed, under a quilt. The room is similar to the one Hardcastle is staying in. As we hear another bout of pounding, McCormick blinks, throws off the covers, and starts to sit up.
McCORMICK
(mutters)
What the hell.
LARCOM (V.O.)
Open up!
McCORMICK
(on his feet, pulling on his jeans)
I'm coming!
EXT. THE McCRAY FRONT PORCH—DAY
LARCOM is at the door, hands on hips, head cocked as though he's listening. Just as he reaches to pound again, the door opens from within. It's McCormick, in jeans and a T-shirt, definitely awake now, but looking as if the nap wasn't nearly long enough.
LARCOM
(surprised)
Who the hell are you?
McCORMICK
The guy who's staying in the second room on the right. Can I help you, sheriff?
LARCOM
(looks past McCormick, as if he might brush by him and enter)
I'm lookin' for that lawyer fella, Hardcastle. He here?
McCORMICK
(glances over his shoulder, then back at Larcom, while still fully occupying the doorway on general Fourth Amendment principles)
Not here, looks like.
(beat)
What's he done now?
LARCOM
There's been a murder. A kid named Kooms.
McCormick is now fully awake, staring even, but there's no chance to ask anymore questions before we hear,
HARDCASTLE (V.O.)
Hey, Larcom!
ANGLE—PULL BACK
Hardcastle is striding up the walk from the street.
HARDCASTLE
You saved me a trip. I wanted to—
There's the slightest shake of McCormick's head. Larcom doesn't catch it but Hardcastle definitely does. He closes his mouth abruptly on what he intended to say and forces a polite smile of inquiry.
HARDCASTLE
Something up, Sheriff?
LARCOM
Sure as hell is.
(scowls)
Kitty McCray may have stuck that scissors into him, but I'd say you're responsible, Judge.
McCORMICK
(quietly)
Lester Kooms is dead.
Larcom shoots McCormick a look.
HARDCASTLE
(frowning in puzzlement)
What the hell happened?
LARCOM
Found him in the tall grass at the edge of the cemetery. Musta gone there to do the mowing; he works for Bill Lovell, the funeral director. Stab wounds to the chest—looks like five or six of them, but it probably only took one. The weapon was a scissors, and we found her and it right there, by Erma's grave.
(beat)
Helluva thing. Nothing like that ever happened here before. You show up and now look.
HARDCASTLE
Where is she?
LARCOM
(irritated)
At the lock-up.
HARDCASTLE
Is she all right?
LARCOM
I got Doc Springer taking a look at her. A cut on her hand, looks like, that's all.
HARDCASTLE
A defensive wound?
LARCOM
Those scissors are hers. She's admitting that.
HARDCASTLE
You questioned her already?
LARCOM
No, well,
(backs down slightly)
she said she wanted you there.
HARDCASTLE
(still worried, but smiling slightly)
You mean she asked for her lawyer.
(aside to McCormick)
Smart girl.
(to Larcom)
I think you better pull the train back in the station, Sheriff. The railroad stops right here.
Hold on that for a moment and then,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE SHERIFF'S HEADQUARTER'S - DAY
There are more than the usual number of vehicles out front, including a van from the California State Police and a hearse. The sheriff's Jeep, followed closely by McCormick driving the Coyote, pull into parking spaces in the lot alongside the building.
INT. THE OUTER ROOM—SHERIFF'S HEADQUARTER'S—DAY
A couple of nameless deputies are trying to keep things sorted out. The crowd includes BILL LOVELL, MAGGIE, an evidence tech and support crew from the state police, ditto from the county medical examiner, and a reporter from the local paper. There are multiple conversations going on and we hear snatches.
LOVELL
(to deputy)
No, he didn't have any next of kin, far as I know—
MAGGIE
(to the other deputy)
I just want to know when I can see her, that's all.
EVIDENCE TECH
(to one of the other investigators)
Yeah, got the preliminaries. Just sign here and I'll run it down to HQ.
The outer door opens. LARCOM steps in, with Hardcastle and McCormick behind him. Larcom is immediately besieged.
REPORTER
Do you have a statement for us yet, Sheriff?
LARCOM
(to the reporter, aggravated)
'Course I don't, Rudy. You know better. You already know everything I'm gonna tell you. It's Lester Kooms, he's dead, and we're still trying to figure out what happened.
(he waves the reporter away and turns to Lovell)
What're you doing here, Bill?
LOVELL
(looking grim)
I want to know what happened.
(beat)
And when will they release him…the body.
LARCOM
(reaching out to pat him on the arm)
Won't know any of that for a while. Why don't you just head back to your place. I'll let you know.
Lovell drops his chin a bit, then nods as Larcom moves past him. Lovell casts another hostile look at Hardcastle as he follows behind the sheriff. The camera holds on Larcom, Hardcastle, and McCormick as they wend through the hangers-on toward the door to the back.
CUT TO:
INT. THE BACK HALLWAY—DAY
The door opens and the three men enter. It's quieter back here. The door to Larcom's office is open and work clutters the desk just as he apparently left it when he received the first call about the murder. At the far end of the hall is another door. This one is closed and marked "Lock-Up—Authorized Personnel Only". It opens and DOC SPRINGER emerges, carrying an old-style leather doctor's bag. He looks up. His expression is unhappy.
LARCOM
(to Springer)
How is she?
SPRINGER
(glancing warily at Hardcastle but then addressing Larcom)
Physically? Just a cut, on her right hand.
LARCOM
From—?
SPRINGER
(aggravated)
Something sharp. How the hell should I know, Jed? I'm a family practitioner.
(shakes his head)
She says she cut it on a piece of glass this morning.
LARCOM
And…otherwise?
Springer opens his mouth to answer.
HARDCASTLE
(interrupting sharply)
I need to see my client.
Springer stares at him.
LARCOM
(heaves a sigh, then, to Springer,)
She's decent?
SPRINGER
(nods)
Got her in a gown right now. Maggie said she'll bring something for her later.
LARCOM
(to Hardcastle)
There were blood splatters on her clothes. They're going to the state lab.
(beat)
You want to see her now?
Hardcastle nods. Larcom gestures with one hand down the hall. Hardcastle strides past him. McCormick starts to follow. Larcom holds his arm out, blocking the way.
LARCOM
You a lawyer, too?
McCormick hesitates, then starts to shake his head.
HARDCASTLE
(sharply)
He's my clerk.
He makes a beckoning gesture to McCormick with one hand. Larcom frowns momentarily, but relents. McCormick smiles tightly and edges past him to join Hardcastle. Larcom lets out another sigh, follows them both to the door and opens it.
LARCOM
(to someone on the inside)
Let 'em in and give 'em some privacy.
As Hardcastle and McCormick pass through, Larcom glances back at Springer. Both men look unhappy.
CUT TO:
INT. A HOLDING CELL—DAY
It's not the classic barred cell of small-town jail lore. This is a utilitarian room with a cot bolted to wall and floor. KITTY McCRAY is sitting dolefully on the edge of it, wearing a capacious blue cotton doctor's examining gown that looks oversized on her. We hear the rattle as the door is unlocked. McCray looks up.
ANGLE—THE DOOR
We see the face of a deputy at the small window in the door, then it swings open. Hardcastle steps in. McCormick, not far behind him, takes a quick look at the surroundings, frowns, and turns to the deputy.
McCORMICK
Can we have a chair in here?
The deputy looks doubtful but steps away and returns a moment later with one.
McCORMICK
(nods and takes it)
Don't forget to close the door on your way out.
The deputy is unsmiling as he departs, but the door is properly closed. McCormick hands the chair over to Hardcastle before stepping back and taking a position against the wall Hardcastle sets the chair down directly in front of McCray and sits, gazing at her intently.
HARDCASTLE
You need a lawyer.
McCRAY
I didn't kill him.
She sounds earnest and quite sane. Hardcastle continues his very intent stare.
McCRAY
I used the scissors this morning in the garden. I stuck them in my pocket. They must've fallen out when I bent over to put the flowers in the vase. That was the first time I was there.
(sighs)
It's a long story.
HARDCASTLE
I'm a good listener.
Hold on McCray's expression—somber, but with a hint of hope, then,
CUT TO:
INT. SHERIFF LARCOM'S OFFICE—DAY
He's at his desk, the telephone receiver to his ear, and is in apparent mid-conversation. He has a notepad on the desk in front of him and a pen in his hand.
LARCOM
(jotting a note)
That's real interesting.
(beat)
No, I think he's right here. It makes a whole lot of sense—more than the other version, that's for damn sure.
(beat)
And I thank you for putting a rush on it, on a Saturday and all. You've got a helluva team up there—you and the M.E., you tell him I said that, willya?
(long beat)
Uh-huh. Send it all up here; I'll be waiting for it. You take care now.
He hangs up and sits for a moment, looking down at the note pad with a considering expression and a thin smile. Then he stands.
LARCOM
(using a voice meant to be heard in the hallway)
Miller?
A deputy pops his head in at the door.
LARCOM
(looks increasingly satisfied)
We got a little job to do.
CUT TO:
INT. McCRAY'S CELL—DAY
McCray is still sitting on the edge of the cot, but leaning forward, a little more animated, in mid-conversation, with Hardcastle and McCormick where we left them, listening.
McCRAY
It was in the vase—the one I borrowed this morning when I found the other one broken. That was when I cut my hand—
(holds her finger out, it's been bandaged)
Earlier—the first time I was at the cemetery.
Hardcastle frowns, glances at McCormick who shrugs and then shakes his head slightly. Neither one of them noticed her injury earlier in the kitchen.
McCRAY
(considering her own finger with a sigh, then lets her hand fall into her lap)
I went back to swap out the vases, a new one for the one I borrowed.
(to herself)
As if it mattered to anybody.
HARDCASTLE
And when you saw the scissors—?
McCRAY
I reached for them—reflex. I don't know what I thought—not that somebody'd been murdered.
(shudders)
And…and I saw the blood, and I screamed.
Hardcastle sits back, exhaling heavily. There's a beat and then he looks over at McCormick again, who gives another small shrug.
McCORMICK
All circumstantial, but the scissors—damn.
Hardcastle opens his mouth to weigh in but is interrupted by the sound of the door opening again.
HARDCASTLE
(loudly)
Not done here yet.
The door opens further. SHERIFF LARCOM and DEPUTY MILLER enter, resulting in not much room left. It's not immediately obvious, but Miller moves to flank McCormick.
HARDCASTLE
(checks his watch)
We haven't even had ten minutes.
LARCOM
Something's come up. Just got a call from the state evidence lab.
(beat, then to McCormick)
I need to see some I.D.
McCormick's fleeting look of puzzlement is quickly replaced by grim understanding. He fishes his wallet out of his back pocket, pulls his driver's license out and offers it. Larcom takes it, glances down at it, and nods once sharply to Miller, who produces a set of cuffs.
HARDCASTLE
What the hell—?
Miller steps in to apply the cuffs.
LARCOM
Mr. McCormick, the van Lester Kooms was last seen driving was found abandoned on a back-road near the cemetery. The steering wheel and shift had been wiped, but those boys the State sent over, they're real thorough. They lifted a set of prints from the driver's side door, and another set off a map they found under the seat.
(he casts a look at Hardcastle)
You know your 'clerk' here is a two-time felon?
HARDCASTLE
I oughta, I sentenced him the second time.
McCORMICK
(irritated—to Hardcastle)
I don't think that's exactly helping.
(to Larcom)
Cuffs? I'm already in the cell, for Pete's sake.
HARDCASTLE
All you've got is a couple sets of prints on the van—I think you're a long way from an indictment, Sheriff.
LARCOM
Person of interest—at least until the rest of the evidence is processed.
(to McCormick, consulting a card he's pulled from his pocket)
You have the right to remain silent…
He continues to drone out the rest of the Miranda while Miller snaps the cuffs shut.
LARCOM
Anything you say or do can and will be held against you in a court of law. You have the right to speak to an attorney. If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand these rights as they have been read to you?
As Larcom utters the last words of the Miranda—
CUT TO BLACK
McCORMICK (V.O.)
(peeved)
Yeah, yeah, I understand.
(then mutters)
I shoulda seen this coming.
FADE IN:
EXT. THE SHERIFF'S BUILDING—TWILIGHT
There are people milling, just a few in small groups, talking among themselves.
INT. A HOLDING CELL—TWILIGHT
This one has McCormick sitting on the edge of the bunk, and is otherwise the mirror image of the one earlier occupied by Kitty McCray. McCormick looks pensive—his right elbow on his knee and his chin resting on the palm of that hand. At the now-familiar rattle of the door lock he straightens up. The door swings open and Hardcastle steps in, past Deputy Miller.
MILLER
(to Hardcastle)
Ten minutes.
Hardcastle grunts. No chair is provided this time. McCormick stands and gestures to the cot, though it's hard to say if this is an act of courtesy, or a chance for his visitor to try the full effect. Hardcastle glances at the cot and stays standing. McCormick leans back against the wall.
McCORMICK
So, do I need a lawyer?
HARDCASTLE
(wrinkles his nose)
Kinda looks that way, at least for now.
McCORMICK
You know a good one?
HARDCASTLE
Listen, if you want me to apologize, I will.
(clears his throat slightly)
I'm sorry.
(beat)
There, now we got that out of the way.
McCormick snorts and shakes his head, even smiling slightly.
HARDCASTLE
I had a little talk with Larcom. He's playing it all pretty close to the vest, but I'd say he really prefers you to Kitty as a suspect.
McCORMICK
But the scissors—
HARDCASTLE
There was hardly any blood at the scene.
McCORMICK
What about what Kitty saw?
HARDCASTLE
A little blood goes a long way in water. From the preliminary exam, it looks like Kooms was dead before he was stabbed. A blunt object to the left side of his head.
McCORMICK
So Larcom thinks whoever killed Kooms tried to frame Kitty.
HARDCASTLE
If it makes you feel any better, he wants you to know he understands how it might've happened. The general consensus is that Kooms has been a homicide waiting to happen for a long time now.
McCORMICK
And along comes a sloppy ex-con who gets fingerprints on the guy's car—is that really all it takes to get a conviction?
HARDCASTLE
(pacing now)
Conviction? It's not even enough for an indictment. Give me 'til Monday morning; that's what habeas corpus is all about.
McCORMICK
Listen—
(reaches out, halts Hardcastle in his tracks)
Insufficient evidence isn't enough. A murder in a small-town cemetery? You know the wire service is going to pick this one up. And you come tromping in here with a writ, trying to embarrass the locals—
(beat)
That'll only make 'em try twice as hard to pin it on me.
HARDCASTLE
It doesn't work that way—
McCORMICK
Says the man who's personally been framed three times.
(shakes his head)
It's like some kind of blind spot for you, this undying faith in the criminal justice system.
Hardcastle, still halted in his tracks, considers the accusation for a half-beat and then finally acknowledges it with a small shrug.
McCORMICK
(sighs, then draws himself up straighter)
Anyway, somebody killed that guy.
(beat)
It wasn't me, and it looks like it wasn't Kitty.
HARDCASTLE
So you think I oughta nail whoever did this—
It dawns on McCormick what he's just put into motion. He looks worried.
HARDCASTLE
—even though you're in here, so I'll be flying solo. Is this some kinda special dispensation?
McCormick swallows hard and then produces a thin smile.
McCORMICK
Yeah, I guess. Something like that.
HARDCASTLE
Good, 'cause I figured I'd do it anyway.
(glances back at the door and then sharply at McCormick)
Could you try and stay put tonight? No jailbreaks—nothing like that.
He's finally pried a genuine (though rueful) smile from McCormick, but no actual promises. Play that and,
CUT TO:
INT. SHERIFF LARCOM'S OFFICE—TWILIGHT
He's sitting at his desk, staring pensively at some papers in front of him but not looking as though he's actually reading. He also does not look like a guy who's cracked a murder case in record time. It might be that he's not all that pleased with himself. There's a sharp rap on the open door. It's DEPUTY MILLER, with a plastic bag. Larcom glances up.
MILLER
Maggie fetched some things for Kitty.
LARCOM
Good.
(shooing motion with one hand)
Give 'em to her and tell her to get dressed, and she's free to go.
Miller nods and then glances back over his shoulder. We see Hardcastle has moved up behind him in the doorway.
MILLER
(to Larcom, with a jerk of his chin back at Hardcastle)
He's done with his client. Wanted a word with you.
Hardcastle squeezes by Miller, not waiting for an invitation. Miller ducks out.
HARDCASTLE
So you're letting Kitty go, huh?
(looks at Larcom speculatively)
You never suspected her in the first place, I'd guess. That was all just a ruse while you waited on that report from the state lab.
Larcom leans back in his chair, studying Hardcastle. It's a long beat before he shrugs.
LARCOM
I told you she wasn't violent. And it doesn't take a forensic expert to see something was fishy with that crime scene.
HARDCASTLE
For the record, we both know you're right about Kitty. Somebody tried to frame her but it wasn't McCormick.
LARCOM
(surprisingly sincere)
Well, I guess we'll see about that, huh?
(beat, then sharper)
You want to start by telling me how his finger prints got on that van?
HARDCASTLE
The outside of the van.
(hesitates a moment)
Look, my client met your victim exactly once—this morning. He saw Kooms giving Kitty a hard time and pulled over. Kooms must've grabbed the map.
LARCOM
Too bad nobody reported that to me 'this morning'.
Hardcastle looks sullen.
LARCOM
You know how this looks, don't you? Our main suspect—
HARDCASTLE
'Person of interest.'
LARCOM
Suspect—
(frowns)
—confronted the victim only an hour or so before he was murdered.
HARDCASTLE
Which is why my client didn't rush forward with the information.
(earnestly insistent)
But he did tell me earlier today.
LARCOM
(dryly)
Before, or after he hit Kooms over the head? You know I'm still willing to consider this manslaughter—maybe even self-defense, but he has to come clean.
HARDCASTLE
He's innocent. So's Kitty, which means you still have a killer walking around out there.
LARCOM
(grimaces)
Look, we can argue about this all night; all I know is that I had a nice, peaceful little town, then an ex-con shows up and a couple hours later Kooms is—
He stops in mid-sentence and is staring fixedly past Hardcastle, who turns to look at what has the man's attention.
ANGLE—TOWARD THE DOORWAY
Kitty McCray is standing there, looking hastily dressed in clothes that are several sizes too large for her.
McCRAY
The deputy said I'm released.
LARCOM
We'll want to talk to you, ask you some more questions, but that can wait. You're not a suspect.
McCray looks puzzled.
LARCOM
(punctiliously precise)
Whoever stabbed Lester with your scissors did it after he was already dead.
(beat)
He was trying to make us think you'd done it.
McCRAY
And you think it was Mr. McCormick?
Larcom stays silent but nods almost imperceptibly. McCray thinks about this for a moment and then turns to Hardcastle.
McCRAY
Are you finished here?
HARDCASTLE
For now, yes.
McCRAY
Then can we go?
(to Larcom)
You haven't believed a word I've said; why should I listen to you?
She pivots and leaves. Hardcastle casts an unsmiling look at Larcom and follows. Larcom is left, sitting as we found him. He picks op the pencil again but is still staring at the doorway with an unsettled expression. Hold on that and,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE McCRAY HOUSE—NIGHT
HARDCASTLE (V.O.)
Besides you, was there anyone else Kooms was in the habit of annoying?
INT. THE MCCRAY KITCHEN—NIGHT
Hardcastle is sitting at the table. McCray has just plugged in a percolator. She looks over her shoulder at Hardcastle for a moment.
McCRAY
The list would be shorter if you asked me who his friends were.
(she turns back to gathering the coffee things but continues talking)
Lester had a way of figuring out people's weak spots and going for them. Like a shark: if you bled just a little, there he was. I just bled more than most.
(she pauses in mid-reach for the cabinet door)
Huh.
Hardcastle glances up.
McCRAY
I didn't notice it this morning.
(gestures to the cabinet with her bandaged hand)
I got some blood on it.
(reaches for a dishrag)
HARDCASTLE
Wait.
(he stands and moves close enough to study the stain, then to McCray, sharply)
Don't touch it. I saw you get that vase down yesterday. It supports that part of your story—that you cut yourself during that first visit to the cemetery, not because you hammered Kooms with a vase.
McCRAY
(frowns)
But the sheriff said I wasn't a suspect anymore.
HARDCASTLE
(gives her an intense look)
Not as long as they've got McCormick to pin it on.
(beat)
You still want to help me prove he didn't do it?
McCRAY
(no hesitation)
Yes.
(swallows hard)
Anyway, the sheriff's right about one thing. Lester's been a bully for a while now, but nobody went and hit him on the head until you came here.
HARDCASTLE
I'd never even met the guy.
(half-serious)
You want me to account for my movements this morning?
McCRAY
(entirely serious)
No—what I mean is you're the first one who even half-way believed me about Erma. You start poking around and suddenly Lester's dead.
(beat)
I think he knew what happened to my grandma.
Hardcastle looks skeptical.
McCRAY
(undaunted)
He'd have to have known, right? He worked for the undertaker.
HARDCASTLE
I think maybe we should solve one murder at a time.
(frowns)
You know there is one thing that bothered me about that report…
Hold on his pensive expression for a moment and then,
CUT TO:
ANGLE—McCORMICK'S FACE
Eyes closed, lit by a patch of light through the window in the cell door, the only source of illumination. He's lying on his back on the cot, but apparently not asleep. His eyes open suddenly to an immediate and penetrating stare at the ceiling above him. A moment later he sits up, swings his feet over the edge of the cot and is on his feet, heading for the door.
McCORMICK
Hey,
(leaning his face against the bars of the little window, to get the greatest angle of view into the hallway)
Miller!
(beat)
I need to talk to Larcom.
MILLER (V.O.)
(from further off)
What? No. Go ta sleep, will ya, it's after midnight.
McCormick frowns, looks around for something, then finally reaches down, pulls off a shoe, and starts pounding on the inside of the door.
McCORMICK
Miller! Mil-ler!
He carries on like this for a moment or two, then pauses. There's some shuffling noises from the hall.
MILLER (V.O.)
You're a damn pain in the—
Miller appears suddenly in the window, face-to-face with McCormick and looking harassed.
MILLER
Larcom'll be back at seven. What's so damn important? You wanna make a confession?
McCORMICK
Sorry, no. No confessions today.
(beat)
I need something.
MILLER
Breakfast is at 8:30 and there's a slop bucket under your cot. Lock-up rules: prisoners stay in their cells at night. No exceptions.
McCORMICK
That's a very sensible rule; you won't have to violate it. I just need you to bring me something.
MILLER
(suspiciously)
What? No smoking in here.
McCORMICK
(virtuously)
I gave it up. It's not good for you.
(beat)
I need the reports the sheriff got—the stuff the state lab sent.
MILLER
What the hell—
(askance)
You can't look at those.
McCORMICK
(even more virtuous)
Why not, they're the reason I'm in here, aren't they? I have a right to see the evidence against me.
MILLER
It's midnight, for Pete's sake.
McCORMICK
You do know that if a murder isn't solved in the first twenty-four hours after it's committed, the odds of it ever being solved decrease by 157%.
MILLER
(nobody's fool)
Yeah, but I reckon this one's already solved.
McCORMICK
Then it won't hurt to let me see the reports, will it? Heck, maybe I'll give up all hope and confess on the spot.
MILLER
(starts to turn away)
That lawyer friend of yours can request 'em.
McCORMICK
(gives the door one last pound with his shoe)
Flinch v. California, Villanova v. Los Angeles County.
MILLER
(halts and looks back through the window)
Huh?
McCORMICK
Suits based on failure to provide evidence to the defendant in a timely fashion. Not to mention the original cases that were shot down in appeals.
(shakes his head sadly)
Careers ruined, slam-dunk cases overturned. A real pity. All because somebody couldn't be bothered to hand over a file that had been requested.
(bends over, puts his shoe back on, then stands again, leaning casually against the door)
You should ask your boss.
MILLER
At midnight? You're crazy.
(beat)
You're just gonna end up seeing them eventually anyhow.
McCORMICK
(an encouraging smile)
Exactly.
Miller sighs and turns away. McCormick leans into the window again, watching him go. Then he leans back, hands in his pockets, whistling something, sotto voce. A moment later we hear steps in the hallways again. This time a thin manila file folder appears in the window, being shoved between the bars.
MILLER
Here. If you think I'm unlocking this door, you're nuts.
McCORMICK
Not necessary. I got the bucket.
(wistfully)
Coffee'd be nice.
(gets his hand on the file before Miller can react to the request)
MILLER
(grumbles)
'Coffee.'
McCORMICK
(moves away from the door, opening the file)
Or not. Just a thought.
He squints down at the file in the gloom, then holds it up to catch more of the limited light and glances at Miller with a questioning look.
MILLER
(smiles back just a little evilly)
Lights out is lights out. Lock-up rules. You got any precedent against that?
(he chuckles and turns away)
McCormick shakes his head then sits on the edge of the cot, centering the open file in the small patch of light. He turns a page and then hunches over it, trying to stay out of his own light as he studies it closely. Hold on that for a moment and then,
CUT TO: INT. THE McCRAY KITCHEN—NIGHT
Kitty McCray and Hardcastle are sitting across from each other, coffee cups and pot in reach. McCray looks tired, but still focused. Hardcastle is leaning forward, elbows on the table.
McCRAY
I don't know much else about Mr. Lovell. He's run the funeral home for as long as I can remember.
HARDCASTLE
And Kooms—?
McCRAY
I think he's some kind of cousin, or something. He wasn't born here. He just sort of showed up and started working for him a couple years ago. Nobody liked him.
HARDCASTLE
Not even Lovell?
McCRAY
(looking thoughtful)
Not really.
HARDCASTLE
So why didn't he fire him?
McCRAY
I dunno. Like I said, maybe they're related.
HARDCASTLE
(looks down at the pad, taps it with his pencil)
What we've got, it doesn't come close to being proof. What we need is a lever.
(beat)
I don't suppose you have any idea how we could reach your mom?
McCRAY
(shakes her head dubiously)
When she goes, she's gone. I think it's mostly to San Francisco. Why would she be any help?
HARDCASTLE
I'm still not sure there's any connection between Kooms' death and Erma's, but if there is, the way to shake things up is to do the one thing everybody around here except you is dead set against.
(beat)
Your mom is a first-degree relative to Erma. All we'd need is her say-so to get your grandma exhumed, then hire a pathologist to do a private autopsy.
Kitty McCray is sitting, staring at him intently but saying nothing.
HARDCASTLE
That's what you wanted, isn't it? An autopsy? Just the threat might be enough to shake something loose.
(beat—he looks at McCray with some concern)
You okay? Been a long day.
McCRAY
(abruptly)
Does adoption count?
HARDCASTLE
Ah—?
McCRAY
Is an adopted child same as a regular one?
HARDCASTLE
You're—
McCRAY
Adopted. Yeah. I always called her 'Grams', but she got custody when I was really little; that was the second time my mom ran off.
HARDCASTLE
Officially? There's papers?
McCray nods and starts to get to her feet.
HARDCASTLE
(frowning)
Was this some kinda secret or did folks around here know about it?
McCRAY
(pausing in the kitchen door, she cocks her head)
No big secret. Anyway, it's a small town. You ever live in a small town?
Hardcastle nods, to both the question and to McCray's conclusion. She steps out but returns a moment later.
McCRAY
Here.
She hands a thick envelope over to Hardcastle. He pulls out the contents and unfolds the document, scanning it briefly and then looking up from it.
HARDCASTLE
This is a formal adoption.
(holds the forms out)
And you're sure it was common knowledge?
McCRAY
(nods)
Sure I'm sure. You mean I was entitled all along?
HARDCASTLE
Looks that way.
(beat)
And assuming there's a connection between Erma's death and Lester Kooms' murder, our suspect list just got a lot shorter.
(beat, and a grim smile)
I don't suppose you've got a typewriter?
Play that and then,
CUT TO:
EXT. MAIN STREET, KOGANVILLE—EARLY MORNING
The Coyote, driven by Hardcastle with Kitty McCray in the passenger seat, drives into view and parks near the Do Drop Inn. She's holding a package in her lap.
ANGLE—HARDCASTLE AND McCRAY
HARDCASTLE
He'll be here?
McCRAY
(she opens the car door to climb out)
Every morning.
Hardcastle, uncharacteristically, opens his door, too. That and his general appearance give the impression he didn't get any sleep, but despite that he seems determinedly animated as he escorts McCray toward the cafe.
INT. THE DO DROP INN—EARLY MORNING
There are only a handful of customers and minimal conversations as they imbibe their first life-giving draughts of coffee. BILL LOVELL is sitting at a table by himself toward the back. MAGGIE is at the counter. She looks up as Hardcastle and McCray enter. McCray crosses to her and hands her the bag she was carrying.
McCRAY
Thanks for the clothes.
Maggie takes the bag and stows it behind the counter. She shoots Hardcastle an untrusting look and then turns back to McCray.
MAGGIE
(earnestly concerned)
Are you okay?
McCray nods. Hardcastle, pretty much having ignored this exchange, and Maggie's suspicions, now edges between the tables maneuvering toward the back. Lovell looks up and appears startled to see him.
LOVELL
(controlled hostility)
You still here?
HARDCASTLE
My truck's still in the shop.
(beat)
And my friend's in the lock-up.
LOVELL
(segues to the real subject)
I know Lester was a little rough around the edges, but he was just a kid. He didn't deserve to be killed.
HARDCASTLE
(nods once, judiciously)
You're right about that.
(beat)
Anyway, I think they'll catch the murderer.
LOVELL
(pugnacious)
I heard they already have.
HARDCASTLE
Nah. I mean the real murderer.
Lovell frowns for a moment, then shakes his head and starts to rise, though he's still got coffee in his cup.
HARDCASTLE
But I figured, as long as I was here, I might as well lend Kitty a hand.
(he reaches into his pocket and extracts a folded sheet of paper)
This is for you. You're the head of the township's cemetery board, right?
Lovell accepts the paper warily, unfolds it and glances at it, then fixes it with a stare.
HARDCASTLE
It's a request for the removal of the remains of Erma McCray.
LOVELL
Why?
(to McCray)
We gave her a decent burial. I even donated the casket.
Kitty McCray stands rigid, unmoved.
HARDCASTLE
(businesslike, to Lovell)
Now I expect Mr. Kooms did your backhoe work, am I right?
Lovell is also rigid, still staring at McCray.
HARDCASTLE
(sighs)
I'm also assuming you don't have any union rules to work with here, but if you do, let me know and I'll make sure the guy I hire has his dues paid up. I'm figuring I can get someone by tomorrow, say ten-ish?
He leans in and taps the table once to get the man's attention. Lovell startles and darts his gaze back to Hardcastle.
LOVELL
Ten? That won't be—
HARDCASTLE
All right, we'll make it noon. That'll give me time to set things up with the pathologist and arrange the transportation.
(smiles)
Noon's good for you?
Lovell casts one last unhappy look at McCray, then crumples the paper and jams it into his pocket.
HARDCASTLE
(observes pointedly)
Makes it harder to file.
He turns and walks away. McCray falls in at his side as he passes the counter. They head for the door and exit.
ANGLE—LOVELL
His expression is openly hostile. Hold on this and,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE SHERIFF'S HEADQUARTER'S—MORNING
The show is over. There are just a couple of official cars there, and the bystanders are long gone. Hardcastle and McCray approach on foot.
INT. SHERIFF'S HEADQUARTERS, OUTER OFFICE—MORNING
It's shift change and Deputy Miller is packing up his stuff, ready to head out. He glances up as Hardcastle and McCray enter.
HARDCASTLE
(smiling politely)
Sheriff in?
MILLER
(hooks a thumb toward the back)
He's in conference.
Hardcastle looks puzzled and casts a glance at the clock. It's 7:15 a.m.
MILLER
Your client was askin' to see him for about an hour now. Think he decided to confess?
Hardcastle snorts and heads for the door to the back hallway. McCray follows along behind.
MILLER
Hey, you can't—
HARDCASTLE
He's my client, isn't he?
He pushes through the door and is gone. McCray is right behind him. Hold on Miller, looking completely ineffectual, and then,
CUT TO:
INT. SHERIFF LARCOM'S OFFICE
Larcom is behind his desk, with his morning cup of coffee. McCormick is sitting in the chair across from him, the file open on the side of the desk closest to McCormick. Hardcastle enters the doorway, and surveys the situation. McCray appears behind him, peering around his shoulder. McCormick glances over his shoulder at the new arrivals.
McCORMICK
(to Hardcastle)
Remind me next time not to hire a lawyer who doesn't have a phone.
HARDCASTLE
You're lucky I'm not charging you by the hour. I'm up to twelve of 'em already.
(glances over at the file)
You talking to him about what I think you're talking to him about?
McCORMICK
Probably.
(nods to the file)
We both heard the same thing yesterday, didn't we? I was just pointing out to the sheriff, here, how unlikely it would have been for a hardened and experienced criminal such as myself—
HARDCASTLE
I don't think that's helping things here—
McCORMICK
(ignoring interruption)
—having just finished killing a man, and presumably driven his van, to have wiped only the steering wheel and the shift.
HARDCASTLE
Exactly.
(to Larcom)
I'm guessing the state lab was thorough.
Larcom nods.
McCORMICK
(to Hardcastle)
Very thorough: inside handles, dash, everything. It's all right here. The only prints they found, besides Kooms', were a guy who's on file from previous military service.
HARDCASTLE
Lemme guess, Bill Lovell?
McCORMICK
Got it in one.
LARCOM
But it's his van.
HARDCASTLE
Which makes him the only person who wouldn't have to worry about his prints being found elsewhere in the vehicle.
McCORMICK
Just as long as he wiped the obvious places, to give the impression that there'd been another person who'd been worried about leaving prints. And—
(shakes his head)
what gives with moving the van at all? Unless Kooms was killed somewhere else, somewhere that would have put suspicion on the killer, who then put him in the van and drove him to the nearest quiet public place—the cemetery.
HARDCASTLE
Then he needed an excuse to wipe the wheel, so he moved the van again, to 'hide' it.
McCORMICK
And then—after he's all done—he's cutting back across the cemetery to go home and he spots the scissors next to Erma's grave.
HARDCASTLE
He just couldn't resist.
McCORMICK
(nods)
Improv is a really bad idea when it comes to murder.
Larcom is staring at them both. Both the tale and its telling are seamless. He lets out a heavy sigh. McCormick smiles wanly and nudges the file toward him.
LARCOM
You're telling me Bill Lovell killed Kooms? Why?
McCRAY
(ducking in past Hardcastle and into the room)
Because Lester knew something about what happened to my grandma.
Larcom doesn't roll his eyes, but he casts a weary look at Hardcastle.
HARDCASTLE
That's one theory.
(hesitates a half beat and then:)
And we've got a way to test it. You knew Erma formally adopted her grand-daughter?
LARCOM
(shrugs)
Sure. That's common knowledge.
HARDCASTLE
Sounds like it was. But it's probably not common knowledge that a next-of-kin can request an exhumation anytime. Maybe they don't like the view, or it's too far to visit—
McCORMICK
Or they think somebody was killed.
HARDCASTLE
(grimly)
Or that. An exhumation and a private autopsy. Just for their own peace of mind, if nothing else.
LARCOM
(hesitant)
Guess it's never come up here before.
HARDCASTLE
(dryly)
I suppose not. And I understand that cemetery law isn't your area of expertise.
(beat)
But Lovell—a funeral director and the guy in charge of the local cemetery—he sure knew about it. He ever mention that little hitch to you?
As Larcom considers the question his expression slowly hardens. McCormick looks increasingly concerned but Hardcastle is serene, as though he already knows the answer.
LARCOM
No.
(starts slowly)
In fact, we had a couple talks about it, me and him and some of the other folks who were worried about Kitty.
He casts a look her way. It's meant to show concern but smacks of condescension. She stares back, unforgiving. He finally breaks off with another sigh.
LARCOM
As I recall, he was pretty insistent that she needed grounds for an exhumation, and there weren't any. That's his territory; I didn't question him.
(shakes his head sharply)
Besides, Erma being in the hospital, under a doctor's care when she passed—
(to McCray)
Sorry, Kitty, there was nothing strange about her death.
HARDCASTLE
Then Lovell won't mind if we get Erma exhumed, now will he?
(beat)
It's set for tomorrow.
Larcom sits back in his chair, rocking it once, then landing forward with both feet firmly planted. He's made up his mind about something.
LARCOM
You served him notice about that?
HARDCASTLE
(smiling sharply)
First thing today.
(beat)
That'll give me just enough time tomorrow morning to run down to the county seat and file for a writ on my client here.
Hardcastle gestures to McCormick. Larcom narrows his eyes a little. McCormick looks tense.
HARDCASTLE
(persistent as hell)
You know you don't have enough evidence to charge him and this 'person of interest' thing gets old real fast.
There's a long hanging moment as Larcom seems to be considering his prospects. He finally shoots a look a McCormick.
LARCOM
I'd advise you not to leave the jurisdiction.
McCORMICK
(soberly intense)
Not a chance of that until this is settled.
LARCOM
(to Hardcastle)
You know what you've done, don't you? I'm not sayin' Bill Lovell is guilty, but if he is—if there is something about Erma that he'd rather stay buried—you've backed him into a corner.
Play the look he's giving Hardcastle, and then,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE SHERIFF'S HEADQUARTERS—DAY
Hardcastle emerges, then holds the door as McCray and McCormick pass through. McCormick has a paper bag tucked under one arm and is fastening his watchband as he walks.
ANGLE—HARDCASTLE, McCORMICK AND McCRAY
They're clustered together on the sidewalk. McCormick, now with his watch properly attached, is already eying their surroundings cautiously.
McCORMICK
(to Hardcastle)
You're clear on what happens when you back somebody into a corner?
Hardcastle nods absently.
McCORMICK
You've left this guy no out except to take Kitty down…you too, probably.
HARDCASTLE
(cocking his head)
You did say it was okay to go after him, remember? And I even got you sprung so you wouldn't miss out on anything.
(beat)
Look, we better hope this guy makes a move. There's a lot of stuff that won't show up on an autopsy after three months, even if there's anything to show up. And all that deductive reasoning we were slinging back there isn't going to convince a grand jury.
(lifts his head and slaps his hands together)
You had breakfast yet?
McCormick shakes his head.
HARDCASTLE
Whaddaya say we give Maggie a little business? Anyway, I need to make some calls, and we outta let the locals see you're out of the hoosegow.
McCray grins. McCormick looks sullen. Hardcastle gives him a poke with his elbow.
HARDCASTLE
Hey, how'd you get 'em to show you the file?
McCORMICK
That?
(shrugs)
I just made up a bunch of precedent.
Hardcastle stares at him for a moment and then shakes his head slowly as they turn and walk off, down the street.
ANGLE—POV FROM INSIDE A CAR FURTHER BACK ON THE STREET
The unseen observer watches Hardcastle, McCormick, and McCray walk away. His hands reach up and clutch the steering wheel in a white knuckle grip. Hold, and then,
CUT TO:
INT. THE DO DROP INN—DAY
A few more people are there but Lovell is gone. Maggie looks up as Hardcastle, McCormick, and McCray enter. Maggie crosses to McCray and takes her by the shoulders.
MAGGIE
You okay?
(casts a suspicious sideward glance at Hardcastle and McCormick and then leans in a little closer)
I mean really okay?
McCRAY
'Course I am.
(pulls away)
MAGGIE
(lets go reluctantly)
You're really going to do it then?
McCray nods firmly. There's a pause as Maggie considers her.
MAGGIE
Then good for you, girl.
(smiles affectionately)
You may be a little crazy, but you've got spunk.
(beat, then leaning in again, this time conspiratorially)
Bill Lovell lit outta here right after you left. Looked madder than a wet hen.
Hardcastle shoots a knowing glance at McCormick, who has the sense to look concerned.
McCORMICK
(to Hardcastle)
You know what that means, don't you?
HARDCASTLE
(sprightly)
There's hope?
Off McCormick's look of annoyance we,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE McCRAY HOUSE—TWILIGHT
All is quiet. The image holds steady as the light fades in time-lapse to full night, pausing long enough for some night sounds, perhaps an owl, and the impression of peace. Then the time-lapse resumes and dawn comes, waxing quickly to full morning light, then returns seamlessly to real-time. Hardcastle's truck drives into view from off-screen and pulls into the driveway. HANK climbs out, goes to the door, and rings the bell.
INT. THE KITCHEN—MORNING
The bell is ringing. McCray is at the counter, Hardcastle is sitting at the table, coffee cup in front of him. There's a second cup across from him but McCormick is already on his feet. He sidles to the window and stands off to the side as he lifts the curtain slightly to peer through. There's a moment's inspection before he drops it and turns to Hardcastle.
McCORMICK
This won't kill ya but it is gonna hurt.
(jerks a thumb toward the window)
Hank. The truck's out front.
Hardcastle's momentary interest deflates sharply. He sighs and lumbers to his feet.
McCORMICK
Maybe he's working with Lovell. His place is kinda close to the cemetery.
HARDCASTLE
(grumbles)
Don't try to cheer me up.
He reaches into his pocket, fishes out his wallet, and heads for the front hall. McCormick turns to McCray and shrugs.
McCORMICK
We've still got a few hours.
McCray nods solemnly and turns back to the sink. Hardcastle returns, holding a bill and shaking his head. He shakes his head and hands it to McCormick.
HARDCASTLE
Highway robbery.
McCORMICK
It's spoiled you—having your own personal mechanic.
(glances at the bill, does a double take, his eyes going a little wide before he looks up again)
You sure the law school thing is such a hot idea? Look at these billable hours.
Hardcastle scowls.
McCORMICK
You're just cranky 'cause nobody's taken a shot at you yet.
HARDCASTLE
The fishing's never that good from the pier. I think we gotta get out there and put our lines in the water.
McCORMICK
(doubtfully)
You and Kitty?
HARDCASTLE
Yeah—
(nods toward the front window)
we got the truck and everything; how's that for convenient?
Off McCormick's still doubtful look we,
CUT TO:
EXT. THE McCRAY HOUSE—DAY
Hardcastle and McCray exit.
ANGLE—PULL BACK
We see the truck parked in the drive with the Coyote further up the drive, only the rear end clearing the front of the house. The curtains are slightly parted on the front window closest to the driveway. McCormick is peering out. Hardcastle and McCray cross to the truck and climb in. It starts up, backs out onto the street and departs. McCormick watches for a few moments. There's no sign of pursuit. The curtain drops back into place and a moment after that the door opens again and he emerges, heading for the Coyote.
ANGLE—McCORMICK APPROACHING COYOTE
We see there's a piece of paper stuck under the windshield wiper. He pauses, then pulls it out and unfolds it.
ANGLE—FROM BEHIND HIM
There's only a moment to see that it's a blank piece of paper, before a gloved hand swings a short piece of pipe and strikes. McCormick falls forward onto the hood of the Coyote and slides down.
POV—THE ASSAILANT
McCormick lies crumpled against the Coyote. We hear heavy breathing from his attacker, the pipe hanging down at his side. He lets go. It clatters as it hits the ground,
CUT TO:
EXT. HARDCASTLE'S TRUCK, DRIVE BY—DAY
INT. HARDCASTLE"S TRUCK, MOVING—DAY
Hardcastle seems pleased to be behind the wheel again. McCray, sitting next to him, looks at the passenger side-mirror and then back over her shoulder.
HARDCASTLE
(casts a glance her way, and then frowns briefly at the rearview mirror)
Don't worry. He's just hanging back. It's hard to be inconspicuous in that firecracker of his.
McCray sighs and nods.
EXT. THE DO DROP INN—DAY
The truck pulls up and parks.
INT. THE DO DROP INN—DAY
It's a bustling Monday morning, but the casual conversations come to a sudden halt as Hardcastle and McCray come through the door. Nearly everyone is staring their way. The looks are partly curious, with a smattering of cool-to-hostile. A few remember their manners after a moment and resume whatever they were doing; others continue to stare openly. Hardcastle stares right back, scanning the small crowd with apparent interest. Maggie swoops down on Kitty and gives her a pat on the shoulder.
MAGGIE
How you holding up?
McCRAY
(loud enough so it will be general knowledge)
I'm fine.
MAGGIE
So you're going through with it?
McCray nods stiffly. Hardcastle breaks away from his study of the café patrons and looks questioningly at Maggie.
HARDCASTLE
No Bill Lovell this morning?
MAGGIE
Huh?
(looking around quickly and then:)
No, guess not. Must be busy. Don't think we've ever had anybody dug up before.
(beat, almost an afterthought)
And Lester. He'll need arrangements.
(another beat, and then)
You two want some coffee?
McCray looks to Hardcastle,
HARDCASTLE
(shakes his head)
Thanks, no. Got a couple more errands before the crew gets here.
He glances at the café crowd again and gives them a neighborly wave as he turns to leave.
CUT TO:
EXT. THE DO DROP INN—DAY
Hardcastle and McCray exit and are standing in front. Hardcastle looks around as though he's trying not to look like he's doing just that.
HARDCASTLE
(quietly, to McCray without looking at her)
You said he's here every morning?
McCRAY
Yeah. No exceptions.
HARDCASTLE
Then either he's got something really important to do—or he's bolted.
McCray looks alarmed.
HARDCASTLE
(glancing at her)
And that'd be as good as a confession.
(beat)
I'd kinda like to find out which it is. Don't want him to get too much of a head start.
(looks around again and mutters)
Where the hell's McCormick?
CUT TO:
CLOSE UP—McCORMICK
His shoulder's being shaken and his eyes open—half-mast for a moment.
McCORMICK
(groggily)
Wha—?
ANGLE—PULL BACK
McCormick is still lying in the driveway alongside the Coyote. The person doing the shaking is Deputy Miller. He tries again.
MILLER
Come on. Rise and shine.
McCormick's eyes jerk open. He reaches up to touch his scalp and winces.
MILLER
I think somebody slugged ya. Did you see anyone?
McCORMICK
(now awake and trying to sit up and look around)
What time is it?
(looks at Miller)
Did you see Hardcastle?
MILLER
Yeah. He left with Kitty.
McCormick scowls at him and scrambles awkwardly to his feet, then leans on the Coyote.
McCORMICK
(sharply)
How long?
MILLER
(looks at his watch)
'bout twenty minutes. I dunno. I was supposed to watch you.
McCORMICK
Then how come you let somebody whack me in the head?
(tries to get fully upright again, puts his hand to his forehead)
MILLER
(points vaguely off past the house)
I was watching. You came out, walked around the side of the house. Car stayed put—so I did, too. Didn't see anybody.
McCORMICK
(mutters)
Great. Just great.
(gets one foot over the sill, then the other, and slides into the seat)
MILLER
Hey, where you going?
McCORMICK
(looking up at Miller)
You're supposed to follow me, right?
Miller nods.
McCORMICK
Then follow me.
McCormick revs the Coyote and Miller jumps back. McCormick puts the car into gear, turns stiffly, but then backs out in a quick, fluid movement. Miller's already jogging back toward the corner.
CUT TO:
EXT. HARDCASTLE'S TRUCK—MOVING—DAY
On a quiet bit of road, approaching Lovell's funeral home and turning in to the drive.
INT. THE TRUCK—STATIONARY—DAY
Hardcastle is studying the rearview mirror, then taking a long, surveying look down the road.
McCRAY
(noticing what he's doing)
What?
HARDCASTLE
(turns away from the window to face McCray)
One thing about the Coyote, if you don't see it, it isn't there.
(beat)
It isn't there. It hasn't been there.
He taps the steering wheel for a moment, then reaches for the shift. At that moment, a dark, late-model sedan careens into the drive behind him and pulls up close before slamming to a stop. The door opens and Bill Lovell climbs out, approaching Hardcastle's side of the truck. Lovell looks perturbed. Hardcastle doesn't appear entirely unhappy about the turn of events as Lovell draws even with the window on his side.
LOVELL
(ignoring Hardcastle)
Kitty, we need to talk.
McCRAY
(controlled)
About what?
Lovell paces around the front of the vehicle to McCray's side. Hardcastle looks less satisfied with this arrangement.
LOVELL
About Erma. About this nonsense. Digging her up after all this time. It's been months.
McCRAY
I wanted it done right away.
LOVELL
Why? Everyone knows she died of natural causes. Ask any of them!
He's sounding increasingly desperate but hasn't done anything overtly threatening yet. Hardcastle eases his own door open and steps down. He edges forward along the truck. Lovell is completely absorbed.
LOVELL
There's just no reason to disturb her grave. None.
McCray is looking at Lovell stonily. Hardcastle rounds the front of the truck and is only a few feet away. Lovell darts a quick look at him.
LOVELL
(angrier now)
It's your fault, egging her on like this.
McCRAY
It was my decision.
LOVELL
(to Hardcastle)
Everything was fine.
McCRAY
No, it wasn't.
Lovell finally turns back toward her. He plunges his right hand into his jacket pocket.
LOVELL
Just let her rest in peace.
McCray stares defiantly.
LOVELL
Please.
Lovell's hand comes up, almost imperceptibly. Hardcastle charges forward, barreling into him.
HARDCASTLE
(shouts to McCray)
Get down!
McCray scrambles to get out of the way. Lovell is knocked against the truck but already has the gun out. One shot goes off in the struggle before Hardcastle can land a solid punch. Lovell is knocked sideways and the gun flies free. As Hardcastle lunges for it, we hear the distant but fast-approaching sound of sirens. Lovell staggers to his feet and makes for his sedan. He's in it and out on the road before the Coyote comes rocketing over the rise and skids to a halt at the drive. McCormick starts to scoot up from his seat.
HARDCASTLE
(gesturing wildly in the direction Lovell fled)
Go get him!
McCormick slides back into his seat and guns the Coyote, screeching away just as the first of the sheriff's cars comes into view.
ANGLE—McCORMICK'S POV—SECOND UNIT SEQUENCE
The chase is on. All we see at first is a cloud of dust a quarter mile ahead on the country road, but with the roar of gear changes McCormick gains steadily until we can make out the rear of Lovell's sedan. It's an all-out pursuit played for as long as it holds, but the sedan is no match for the Coyote. After a final sharp corner, it tries to avoid ramming a flatbed truck parked in the roadway, destabilizing into a full roll and crashing through a fence.
ANGLE—LOVELL'S SEDAN, OFF THE ROAD, WHEELS UP
The Coyote control-skids to the edge of the road. McCormick is up and out of his seat, running to the crashed vehicle and hauling Lovell out through the upside-down driver's window.
ANGLE—PULL BACK
McCormick stands, half-supporting a stunned Lovell. We can now see the sedan crashed through a part of the cemetery fence and the flatbed belongs to the cluster of men standing by Erma's grave, the digging equipment already off-loaded and being used. They've stopped to stare at the intrusion. Two sheriff's vehicles, running lights and sirens, race up, and close behind them is Hardcastle's truck, putting Hank's repair job to the test. It scoots past the official vehicles and tucks into a space by the damaged fence. Hardcastle's head is out the window.
HARDCASTLE
Got him?
McCORMICK
(wearily)
Got him.
Deputy Miller approaches. McCormick hands Lovell off. Hardcastle climbs out and is next to the truck as Miller marches Lovell past.
HARDCASTLE
(to Lovell, with a duck of his chin toward the workers)
I told 'em to start first thing this morning.
(he glances over at the progress, then back at Lovell)
Shouldn't be long, now.
Lovell looks pale. McCray has now joined Hardcastle, and her expression is indecipherable. Lovell meets her stare for a moment and then breaks off, allowing Miller to tug him along toward one of the sheriff's cars. Hardcastle lets out a sigh. Sheriff Larcom steps out of his cruiser, surveying the chaos like a man who is looking at a heap of reports that will need writing. He walks over to Hardcastle, who reaches into the cab of the truck and pulls out the handgun he took from Lovell.
HARDCASTLE
He fired it. Lucky he didn't hit anything.
Larcom pulls a pencil out of his shirt pocket, hooks the weapon by its finger guard, holds it up, dangling, and studies at it with a pinched expression. Then he turns and walks away with it. Hardcastle watches him for a moment, then glances over his shoulder and then turns to face McCormick, who is a few feet behind him, leaning against the Coyote.
HARDCASTLE
What took you so long?
McCORMICK
You said you didn't want me following too close, right?
HARDCASTLE
Yeah.
McCORMICK
Well, neither did he.
McCormick reaches up and touches the back of his head, wincing slightly. Hardcastle frowns. McCray, who's been staring fixedly toward the activity now resuming by her grandmother's grave, turns and walks toward it. After a moment's hesitation, Hardcastle, and then McCormick, follow.
ANGLE—THE WORKERS
The excavation is mostly complete. Looks as though Hardcastle spared no expense; it's a well-equipped crew. One man climbs out of the hole.
WORKER #1
(to crew)
Got it.
FOREMAN
(to man operating winch)
Take 'er up.
There's some portable machinery noise, the hoisting chains tighten, and a moment later the casket is lifted free. The men reach out and maneuver it onto the grass. The chains go slack and are unhooked. One of the workers starts wiping down the casket, another is backing a utilitarian-looking hearse into position. McCray is standing nearby, with Hardcastle next to her and McCormick just behind him.
McCRAY
(to the crew)
Wait. I want to see her.
The foreman darts a look her way, then a longer one, accompanied by a subtle shake of his head, at Hardcastle—he thinks this is a bad idea.
HARDCASTLE
(gently)
It's been three months.
McCRAY
I never got to see her. She was just…gone.
HARDCASTLE
This is not the way you want to remember her.
McCray's not budging.
McCORMICK
(he gets this—leaning in toward Hardcastle, he speaks quietly)
All you know is that they're gone and you never get to see them again. It's not real.
HARDCASTLE
(back at McCormick, out of the side of his mouth)
Well, this'll be plenty real.
(to the crew)
Hold on a sec. I wanna do a quick visual confirmation. Open it up.
The workers look to the foreman, who gives them the nod. A couple of guys produce tools and go to work on the fasteners. They step back a moment later.
FOREMAN
(to Hardcastle)
All yours.
The casket is facing hinge side toward the camera's POV.
HARDCASTLE
(to McCray, last-ditch plea)
Wait here a sec, will ya?
McCRAY
I need—
(she stops—she's not sure what she needs but it's not likely to be found in that box—she shakes her head)
I have to see.
She steps forward with him, walking around to the other side. McCormick hesitates and then follows, taking a position at the head of the casket. Everybody seems to be holding their breaths. McCormick gets the nod from Hardcastle and lifts. McCray doesn't avert her eyes but as the lid rises she blinks once and then gasps. McCormick is looking somewhere other than there. Hardcastle stares for a full second and then lifts his head.
HARDCASTLE
(hollers)
Sheriff!
McCormick is startled, instinctively looks down, and almost loses his grip on the lid. Larcom is striding over. McCray is shaking. Hardcastle has his arm around her shoulders.
LARCOM
(sees casket lid up)
What the hell are you—?
HARDCASTLE
(points to the unseen contents of the casket)
You got two bodies in here.
LARCOM
(leaning in from the side, his glance becomes a stare)
Evie McCray?
(he breaks off and shakes his head,
then suddenly, all business again, to the workers:)
Close it up. We'll get an evidence seal on it. I'll put a call in to the M.E.
(to McCray)
Kitty, I'm—
She waves him away and buries her face in Hardcastle's shoulder as McCormick lowers the lid gently. Frame that tableau—three figures, now still. Then the camera pulls back. The shot goes aerial to take in everyone else resuming motion: the workers scurrying to finish their job, Larcom striding off giving his men their instructions, Lovell being cuffed and led away. Hold on that distance shot, as the wheels of justice have begun to turn again and,
FADE TO BLACK
FADE IN:
EXT. DOCTOR SPRINGER'S OFFICE—DAY
Hardcastle walks up the sidewalk and turns toward the door.
INT. THE WAITING ROOM—DAY
Hardcastle enters, glancing around. It's quiet, with no other patients except McCormick, who's sitting in a chair along the wall holding an ice bag to his head. His feet are up on a coffee table and he's leaning back with his eyes closed. Hardcastle clears his throat. McCormick startles and his eyes pop open.
HARDCASTLE
What's the verdict?
McCORMICK
Me?
(gazes at him blearily)
My head's harder than Kooms'.
(beat)
Kitty's still in there.
(glances off toward the door to the examining rooms)
She said it wasn't as if Eve was really much of a mother to her—still…
The door to the back opens and the nurse emerges, holding a sheet of paper.
NURSE
They'll be out in a moment.
(to McCormick, brusquely)
Here are the head injury instructions.
(starts to hand him the paper)
Someone needs to wake you up and check you for these symptoms every three hours tonight—
Hardcastle waves a hand, intercepts the paper, and glances at it.
NURSE
We advise no driving or hazardous activities for twenty-four hours after the injury.
McCORMICK
Oops.
The nurse gives him a hard look. The back door opens again and Springer emerges, escorting McCray and appearing very solicitous, maybe even apologetic. He sees Hardcastle and opens his mouth to speak but doesn't have the chance to say anything.
HARDCASTLE
(to McCray, very direct)
How you doing?
McCRAY
I'm…okay.
(hesitates, she's really thinking about it)
Well, maybe not okay, but I'm going to be. It's better than not knowing.
(steps away from Springer but gives him a quick acknowledging nod)
HARDCASTLE
(heaves a breath, then to McCray again)
Thought you might wanna know how things are going.
McCray nods.
HARDCASTLE
I made sure they read him the Miranda off the card, but he was ready to talk.
(purses his lips)
Did you know he and Eve were an item?
McCray shakes her head. Springer and the nurse look equally surprised.
HARDCASTLE
He said she wanted to leave—go to San Francisco. He got upset with her and the next thing he knew, she was dead. He put her in the cooler. Hell, he even embalmed her.
(shakes his head slightly)
Kooms found out, of course, and started taking advantage, threatening to tell the sheriff Anyway, Lovell knew he couldn't keep the body in there forever.
(beat)
Then your grandma had her fall, and took ill and died—that really was natural causes, by the way—and he thought it was a perfect opportunity.
McCORMICK
(no levity in this)
Two for the price of one.
The nurse casts him a disapproving look.
HARDCASTLE
(to McCray)
He never would have taken the risk if there'd been anything suspicious about Erma's death.
(beat)
Then you come home and start raking it all up.
McCRAY
And Lester?
HARDCASTLE
Didn't want you messing up his cozy arrangement, though I'm not sure it ever got as far as blackmail. He thought he could pester you back into a locked ward, or at least make folks around here think you ought to be in one.
(beat)
Then he pushed Lovell too far.
McCORMICK
Got a confession on that part yet?
HARDCASTLE
(nods)
Eve and Kooms.
(beat)
Even the part where he bashed you over the head this morning—
McCORMICK
That'll be good for another thirty days on his life sentence.
Hardcastle snorts.
McCORMICK
(starts to get up, winces at the movement and sighs)
Just as long as I'm not a 'person of interest' anymore.
McCRAY
And we know the truth…about everything.
Hardcastle nods. She starts for the door. He and McCormick wait for her to pass by them, then follow her out. The door closes behind them. Hold, and,
CUT TO BLACK
