Some Like It Hot Page #2

TOOTHPICK CHARLIE

Yes, sir.

MULLIGAN:

And who runs it?

TOOTHPICK CHARLIE

I already told you.

MULLIGAN:

Refresh my memory.

TOOTHPICK CHARLIE

(uneasily)

Spats Colombo.

MULLIGAN:

That's very refreshing. Now what's

the password?

TOOTHPICK CHARLIE

I come to Grandma's funeral.

(he hands him a folded

piece of black crepe)

Here's your admission card.

MULLIGAN:

Thanks, Charlie.

TOOTHPICK CHARLIE

If you want a ringside table, tell

'em you're one of the pall bearers.

MULLIGAN:

Okay, Charlie.

The police captain joins Mulligan.

CAPTAIN:

We're all set. When is the kickoff?

As Mulligan consults his watch, Charlie, the toothpick working

nervously in his mouth, tugs Mulligan's sleeve.

TOOTHPICK CHARLIE

Look, Chief -- I better blow now,

because if Spats Colombo sees me,

it's Goodbye Charlie.

MULLIGAN:

Goodbye, Charlie.

Charlie scoots up the dark street, disappears.

MULLIGAN:

(to the police captain)

Give me five minutes -- then hit 'em

with everything you got.

CAPTAIN:

You bet!

They synchronize their watches. Then Mulligan crosses to

Mozarella's parlor, unfolding the black crepe Charlie gave

him. It is a mourning band, and he slips it over the left

sleeve of his overcoat.

INT. MOZARELLA'S FUNERAL PARLOR - NIGHT

It looks legitimate enough -- with potted palms, urns and

funeral statuary. A harmless gray-haired man is playing the

organ with appropriate feeling. Daintily arranging a funeral

spray is the proprietor himself, MR. MOZARELLA.

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