Disclaimer: I own not Goren or Eames, but everything aside from the names (and the intangible inspiration) was born during the trip from MD to MA.

This is my final project in my intro playwriting course. After much Vincent over break (13th Floor + 3 CI eps, w00t!) I wrote this, loosely based on Goren and Eames. Then I figured, heck, it'll work as a future AU story, if I change their names back. So I did.

(NB- a double dash (--) means overlapping lines (someone's cutting the other person off). If you don't know what stuff like DSR and USL mean, no worries, it's just giving positions on stage. Oh, and I'm leaving this a play form rather than trying to make it into a screenplay, because frankly, it's easier, and since it was born this way, I'm afraid it has theatrical components built in that wouldn't translate well.)


[daf9- upon inspection, I agree. In class we write for performance, but if I'm posting it to be read there needs to be more cues. I also forgot to post the second half. Mea culpa. PS- I hope this is somewhat better...]

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SCENE 1

(Work lights are on. The stage has a large wooden desk DSL. It and the surrounding area are piled with papers and books. To the left are bookcases. Two chairs are in front of the desk. One of these is pulled out and a man, BOBBY, sits in it, watching the audience as they come in and get seated. He is in his early 50s. When most are settled he begins to talk.)

BOBBY

When I was driving here, today, on the way I saw this… There was a shrub or something, a small plant anyway, growing out of a crack in one of those concrete barriers lining the highway. You see them all the time, I know, but this one had been decorated for the season with a bit of tinsel and a few small ornaments like offices will use on a mini-Christmas tree they put on the reception desk to be friendly. There wasn't much traffic so I was past it in a few seconds, but I stared and stared in my rearview mirror until I was too far around the curve and I couldn't see it anymore. I didn't cry but it was close, and I thought of the poor straggling tree from A Charlie Brown Christmas and why that movie brings so many people to tears. It's… It was living there, all alone…

(His voice fails and he exits USL. Lights fade down, actors get on stage. Lights fade up. BOBBY, composed, sits at the desk. This is his office. A woman in her late 40s, ALEX, stands next to him, examining something he's pointing at. Another woman, Devon, about 20, stands DSR.)

BOBBY

…but I don't think this is accurate. Do you see?

(He pulls a file from a nearby stack, compares them.)

ALEX

If he was standing there, for the splatter to be arching upwards the blow must have hit-

(She is acting out the crime, stops when she notices DEVON. BOBBY looks up.)

BOBBY

Miss Walker. How can I help you?

DEVON

I-I had a question, but I can- If you're busy I can come back later.

BOBBY

No, that's… Actually, if you could come back at two- during my office hours I could—

DEVON

--I'm sorry Professor, I'll—

ALEX

--You won't. Bobby, I know you have a watch. What, perchance, does it say? Yes, 2:20, give or take. (Picks up bag, prepares to leave.) Tell me when you have the simulation up, I want to watch.

BOBBY

(Looking at watch.) Actually, I have 17:37.

ALEX

Did it come like that? How do you get to class on time?

BOBBY

I have a routine.

ALEX

You didn't know you were in the middle of office hours.

BOBBY

I'm always here. I figure office hours are when the students show up.

ALEX

Logical. Though it seems you may have been kicking them all out. No buts- Teach!

(Devon has been edging closer, then backing up as if to exit. ALEX exits DSR, stopping to say a word to Devon.)

Don't look so frightened dear. He never knows where he is. Best to tell him what's what and go from there. Or failing that, he's a sucker for a girl in tears.

DEVON

Thanks for the advice Professor Eames. (With shy smile.)

BOBBY

(Has moved a few piles so he can see across the desk.)

Miss Walker. What's the trouble?

DEVON

It's my final project- my case study? There's something I don't quite understand about—

BOBBY

--Sure, sure. Sit down and let's have a look. I'll just- would you like some coffee?

DEVON

No, thank you sir. (Sits on edge of chair, still wearing her backpack.)

(BOBBY gets up to pour a cup, finds his machine empty.)

BOBBY

I'm sorry, I'm out and- are you in a hurry?

DEVON

No, not really—

BOBBY

Would it be okay if I ran down to the mess? It will only take a minute.


DEVON

That's fine. But it wasn't actually very important— (She's clutching folders to her chest.)

BOBBY

--Are you sure you don't want anything?

DEVON

Yes thanks, I'm fine.

(BOBBY exits DSR. Alone, DEVON sits still, looking around, then gets up to examine book shelves.)

DEVON

Well… Medical, medical, Poisonous Plants and Fungi, Common Household Chemicals, my intro psych textbook, Pathologies of- hey.

(She pulls down a book and reads the fly leaf.)

One Hundred Ways to Misread Your Crime Scene. Professor BOBBY Goren lives up to his reputation as one of the nations leading criminalists by cataloguing here many of the common errors made when investigating crimes. From the Winston-Hall murder to the Charleston massacre, Goren uses real cases to demonstrate where the hunt can go wrong, from the initial examination of the crime scene to identification and location of a suspect. Displaying a breadth of knowledge compared to that of the fictional detective Sherlock Holmes, Goren gives here the first outlines of a plan to create smarter, more efficient law enforcers-

(Steps are heard outside and she stops reading. BOBBY enters DSR with coffee and white paper bag. He is surprised, initially, to find her there.

BOBBY

Oh, right. Miss, uh, Walker. I'm sorry, I was- I see you found my- What did you think?

DEVON

Wha-oh! I'm sorry, I didn't even know you'd written a book, before- But it looks very interesting, I'll get a copy— (Goes to put book back on shelf, fumbles.)

BOBBY

--Interesting?! That's what my editor said. That crime has become a fad, sensationalized until half the kids I get in my classroom are expecting CSI and young beautiful coworkers, and to boot they've never gained the self-discipline necessary to learn the job properly, when they don't drop out in boredom.

DEVON

(Starts talking in rush (she has a definate opinion), even though she's shy about expressing it forcefully to him.)
I'm sure that's true. But law enforcement, it's a profession that's always held a fascination for the public, for years- you can't blame that on modern media. If anything, at least now people, people have a better technical understanding, and more appreciation, instead of just relying on whatever sensationalistic story the newspaper publishes, or the rumors and, and the gossip passed around. (She expected to be cut off - surprised when he let her talk.)

BOBBY

(A bit dismissively. Slightly taken aback by her speech.)
I don't' really watch TV, I'm not really qualified to argue the point, though I think yours is valid- You can take the book by the way. I hope you get something out of it- I'm thinking of using it in the new class I'll be teaching in the fall, let me know what you think.

DEVON

I, uh, ok. Thank you very much. I'll start reading it tonight and get it back to you—

BOBBY

--Keep it. They sent me boxes, and I can't give them away. You're working on the Motel 8, aren't you?

DEVON

Yes. Nine bodies found in various hotels, all in room 8—

BOBBY

--I'm familiar with the case. What have you found?

DEVON

(Goes back to chair, shrugs off backpack.)
First of all, I don't think this one- Number 7, was related. Or at least, it was a copycat.

BOBBY

Valid. I've heard that a lot. Do me a favor and see if you can give me more than a hunch when you write it up.

DEVON

That's what I wanted to talk to you about. If I'm seeing what I think I'm seeing, the police caught the wrong guy. So I must be wrong, but I can't figure out how.

BOBBY

Show me.
(Devon pulls out a folder, spreading sheets before him.)

What am I looking at?

DEVON

These are the best I could find- look under the bed.

BOBBY

Yeah?

DEVON

They're all solid wood. Connected to the floor. All except in Number 7.

BOBBY

That's not enough.

DEVON

But here, on the lower right side. I don't have this angle for all of them, but on these four- notches, in order. One for the first murder, three for the third, five for the fifth, seven for our number eight…

BOBBY

(Now he's interested. Business mode.)
Do you have a photo on seven?

DEVON

(She becomes more confident when his tone changes. (He's taking her seriously.))
Not a good one, it's out of focus.

BOBBY

This is a lead. Follow it.

DEVON

You think I'm right? Like, this isn't just something stupid?

BOBBY

Stupid? Listen, no hunch is ever stupid. A hunch is generally something you know, but your brain can't find fast, or doesn't know it knows. All the hard cases are broken by a hunch.

DEVON

But what do I do now?

BOBBY

(He relaxes, since he's caught up, and passes the burden of the next step off to her.)
Visit the crime scenes. If they haven't been sold or torn down, the same furniture should still be there.

DEVON

Don't I need some kind of authorization to do that? Like, a note or something, at least? From you?

BOBBY

Nah. Think something up when you get there. They don't have anything to hide. If you run into trouble, give me a call. Take someone with you anyway, I think a couple of these were in the seedy part of town.

DEVON

Ok. I'll- Well, thanks a lot Professor. I'll go work on this now and… And thanks for the book. So, see you in class then. (She stands, looking awkward again at the implied dismissal.)

BOBBY

I look forward to your findings.

(As Devon is about to leave.)

Miss Walker? Don't keep me in suspense- Whatever you find, write it up and give it to me next week.

DEVON

Of course sir.


BOBBY

Oh and Walker?

DEVON

Yes?

BOBBY

Good job.

DEVON

(Hesitates.)
Even if it's nothing?

BOBBY

Especially if it's nothing. I've known this case from the beginning, and I haven't heard anything about markings on the bed before today. That's something.

DEVON

Thank you.

(Blushes and runs off DSR.)

BOBBY

(Leans back, thinking. Locates and picks up phone.)

Eames? …Yeah, no, I think she has something. …The Motel 8… There are notches, on some of the-- …No, of course you have to go… Do you want to meet up for drinks later on then? …Seven is good… Bye.

(He hangs up, then goes to his bookshelf, pulling down a few books as the lights fade out.)

SCENE 2

(Lights fade back up. We're in ALEX's living room. It is comfortably furnished with a leather couch and chairs. USL is a small bar. There is a knock, and ALEX crosses the stage, opening a 'door' SR. BOBBY enters.)

ALEX

Bobby. Hi, come in.

BOBBY

Thanks.

ALEX

You know, you didn't have to bring the booze. Despite appearances, I am over 21.
(They're still basically in the doorway, but it's comfortable- they do this often.)

BOBBY

I was raised never to visit a lady without a gift. Of course, if you don't want it, I could take it back with me.

ALEX

Nah uh. That little beauty is staying here with me. I've got a whole family over there who'd love to adopt her.

(They laugh. She takes the bottle and crosses to a bar.)

BOBBY

Don't put her next to that old Jack Daniels. I don't like the way he looks at all the fresh young girls.

ALEX

What's your poison partner?

BOBBY

Vodka. One rock. And do that special thing you do.
(He sits in one of the chairs, relaxing back into it.)

ALEX

Engagement Special, coming up.

BOBBY

The profession of bartend lost their messiah when you became an intellectual, Alex.

ALEX

Oh, that's something you never quit. Now I just don't have to deal with all those drunks who couldn't taste the difference between fine bourbon and Listerine, even if they wanted to.

BOBBY

Point taken.

(ALEX comes back, hands him his drink and sits.)

ALEX

Before we get down to business- mind if I light up? I'm feeling provincial tonight. Blame it on the pretty addition to my cabinet.

BOBBY

Not at all. I think I'll join you if you don't mind.

(ALEX lights a cigarette, passes the pack to BOBBY.)

ALEX

(A puff and a sip and she sits up straight, getting down to business.)
What does she have?

BOBBY

(He takes a drag then sits forward, serious as well.)
Best damn observation any student has given me since I started the assignment. I've been looking at that case for years, never saw it.


ALEX

Devon's a promising young lady. Be good to her.

BOBBY

(This is a conversation they've had before.)
I treat all my students with respect. I'm even nice to the ones who don't understand that there's always a motive, and you need one if you're going to take it to—

ALEX

--I said good. Not nice. You can go on all you like about the pampered little idiots you have to teach. But she's going to be a real detective, and I want to send her out those doors and into the real world as prepared as we can make her.

BOBBY

Ah, so she's the pet of the year?

ALEX

Of my career. And I you scare her off God help you I'll—

BOBBY

--If she's that good she won't be put off by me. Now, would you like details, or would you prefer to lecture me some more? (A tad cranky.)

ALEX

I'm listening.

BOBBY

Notches, cut into the bottom of the beds. She doesn't have confirmation on all of them yet, no one saw it so photos we have are incidental, but the numbers line up. Numbering the murders.

ALEX

What about 7?

BOBBY

She's got seven notches- on number 8.

ALEX

(Whistles.)

Good eye. Do you have the photographs?

BOBBY

Not with me. I've got her out looking for the beds though. It'll be proved either way by next week.

ALEX

Alone?

BOBBY

Why?

ALEX

She's still a kid. Let's leave the reckless solo investigation to the dumb nuts who are at least getting paid for it. (Now she's mildly annoyed with him.)

(Note, so about here-ish, if it seems like they're finishing each other's sentences, they are.)

BOBBY

If only crimes could be solved with money.

ALEX

Instead of caused by it.

BOBBY

Or the lack thereof.

ALEX

I tell you though. From an intellectual standpoint, money can buy itself some devilishly fun hard cases to crack. Don't tell my students I said that.

BOBBY

But the motivation is always at least one step removed. Or it's just business… You want a fascinating case? Give me one based on passion any day.

ALEX

Hubby walks in on his wife, she's not alone, pop pop? (She shifts, curling up. They are no longer talking shop, but have moved on into discussion.)

BOBBY

If you want to take the easy way out. Your story's not complete though. Your wife, she liked the other guy more. At least, he never ruined her favorite nightie with a splatter of blood and brain. So she gets down and apologizes, kissing his feet and swearing she'll never stray again. Now hubby isn't the smartest pick of the lot and now that his blood's settled he's starting to realize that this picture isn't going to make him look so good. He's looking at hard time unless he can get rid of the body. So they cook up a plan and between them manage to dump the body out of the way—

ALEX

--What a way you have with words. I think you missed your true calling. I have an old typewriter in my closet, let's set you up. I get half when you hit number 1.

BOBBY

(Pretends she never interupted.)
--But then he starts to figure out that maybe his wife isn't too happy with him, and if she talks, he's in the fire while she's living pretty and eating the marshmallows. So he gets a plan in mind to knock her off, put her with her lover and pretend like they ran off together. Sad, yeah, but it won't take too long for Cindy from marketing to break through to him and console him in his loss. Only problem is, his wife has a pretty similar idea, and she is quicker on the draw. In he goes, and you're looking at two missing men, and nothing to link them if the wife was careful. And no link, no motive. No motive, you've got nothing.


ALEX

Until you find the one thing she overlooked or couldn't control. A friend who knew about her relationship, a fingerprint, a security guard who saw the guy go upstairs

BOBBY

But you find the passion behind the act and the case unravels like a badly knitted sweater.

ALEX

Complete with reindeer?

BOBBY

(Confused, loses his train of thought.)
Sorry?

ALEX

Never mind. Continue.

BOBBY

I'm done. My point was just- Money makes it cut and dry, even if they screw up. You find the evidence, or you don't find the evidence. Add passion, and all you need is a hunch. Put the wife in the interrogation room for a few hours and do some informed guessing until she gives you what you need.

ALEX

How's it go? Some say the world will end in ice, others say fire. From what I know of heart's desire my bet is with fire.

BOBBY

Close enough.


ALEX

We already know passion was a factor here. That many stab wounds—

BOBBY

--But come on- guy gets jilted and gets murderous, impersonating room service for a certain room number until he finds a woman alone? That's not unraveled, that's a pulled stitch.

ALEX

We can't know the whole story behind every case. Sometimes we have to settle for catching the bad guy. (She puts out her cig. Her voice is lowered.)

BOBBY

Until we catch the wrong guy and throw him in jail. (BOBBY is more intense, into the conversation.)

ALEX

You really think we got the wrong guy?

BOBBY

The story never quite added up.

ALEX

It was good enough to prosecute on.

BOBBY

And there was never any real evidence against his guilt.

ALEX

Or which pointed to anyone else. (Pause.) Where's this coming from?

BOBBY

Call it a hunch.

ALEX

Ok hunch. Even with the notches, what have you got?

BOBBY

That's what I'm hoping Walker will tell me.

ALEX

(Ah, back to her protegee. Thoughtful.)
If she's right, and can make something of it… What a way to enter the field.

BOBBY

(Intensity is over, he relaxes, leaning back in his chair and taking a drink.)
Beats the heck out of walking the beat and working up.

ALEX

She puts a lot of pressure on herself though. I'd worry about expectations rising too high too fast.

BOBBY

There's still that learning curve. I guess you're right.

ALEX

Of course I am. (Playful.) Now the question is, what are you going to do for me?

BOBBY

What exactly do I owe you for first?


ALEX

Me preventing you from being your usual obnoxious self.

BOBBY

Ah, that. Well, what do you want? I'll see what I can do.

ALEX

You can start by refilling my drink.

BOBBY

Your wish is my command. What were you having?

(BOBBY gets up and goes to the bar.)

ALEX

Vodka, but that bourbon's starting to feel unloved. She's sat alone enough.

BOBBY

Double?

ALEX

You know me too well.

BOBBY

(He's looking for something to say, but also is curious and is teasing. There's a story here, and he's privy.)
I don't think I ever asked, how did your date with George go?

ALEX

Ugh, Evil man! Make it a triple.

BOBBY

Only that bad?

ALEX

I do have to be at work tomorrow.

BOBBY

(Trying to maintain a light tone, but he's serious.)
Have you ever considered quitting?

ALEX

Which?

BOBBY

The force. Teaching full time.

ALEX

(Automatic.)
Can't do it.

BOBBY

Why?

ALEX

(Not a straightforward answer, she's changing the focus to him.)
You've got it covered. What would I do?

BOBBY

(Innocent sarcasm.)
Oh I don't know. Train a few detectives, grade some papers, maybe write a book sometime down the line…


ALEX

(Hesitant.)
Bobby?

BOBBY

Yes?

ALEX

Why did you leave?

BOBBY

It was time.

ALEX

It's just, no one ever thought you'd- No one understood. A room full of cops and detectives and no one understood. I didn't understand.


BOBBY

There are just some things…

(BOBBY gets up nervously. The phone rings. ALEX answers.)

ALEX

Hello? Yes Captain… Have you called Rawlings? That's fine, I'm actually sitting here with Bobby… It's possible… The secret is in NOT asking… You too, bye.

BOBBY

Case?

ALEX

Murder at the university. The bourbon must wait.

BOBBY

I'll go. I'll see you—
(Moves towards his coat.)

ALEX

Not so fast. Rawlings got started on the drinking before we did, so you're coming with me.


BOBBY

Oh. I suppose I could—

ALEX

--Good. (Puts on her own coat, adjusting the collar.) Do you mind driving? My engine has been making this coughing noise, which would be less worrisome if it sounded more mechanical.

BOBBY

No problem.

ALEX

Just let me grab my bag.

(Exits SL, reenters with coat, both exit SR. Lights fade down. Work lights fade up on front of stage, BOBBY walks out. Behind him, they change the set.)

BOBBY

I think the paradigm of the genre is the little matchstick girl. I was about to say that the proof was that they hadn't managed to Disney-fy it, but I think there is a cartoon. She dies, but there's a bit with a dead relative before, and a bright light afterward, and some guy is sitting next to her and finds her body in the morning. Or it's possible I'm confused. Anyway, the Charlie Brown Christmas tree is the Little Matchstick Girl taken home. An intervention that we all know is a futile attempt to change an inevitable fate. Some trees are left behind at the lot, some plants grow along out of a crack in the middle of the highway, and some people are meant to live and die alone. That's the way it works.

(Work lights fade down, BOBBY exits.)