Basic Instinct Page #6

A double, huh, shooter?

I'm off duty, Nilsen.

You hear me?|I'm off duty discussing a case.

Now, I.A. Shouldn't|have a problem with that.

Maybe I should put in|for some overtime?

Don't work too hard, shooter.|It might drive you to drink.

Stop riding me, man!|I'll kick your f***ing teeth in!

- What's the problem?|- No problem, Doctor.

Here comes the shrink, just in time|to save her favorite patient.

Just f*** off, Marty!

You kids have a good time tonight, huh?

- He's asking for it.|- That's right, so don't take the bait.

Do you want to go?

- Yes.|- Let's go.

Sometimes I think he started banging her|just to get Internal Affairs off him.

He ain't that way.|He's got a heart.

Damn!

What was she like?

- Who?|- Catherine Tramell.

You had her pegged.|She used her book as an alibi.

I met her at Berkeley.

We were in some of the same classes.

Why didn't you tell me?

I'm telling you.

You've never been|like that before. Why?

You tell me.|You're the shrink.

- You weren't making love to me.|- Who was I making love to?

You weren't making love.

I need a cigarette.

I thought you said you quit.

It's the top drawer in the foyer.

Get it on your way out!

- Have you started?|- Waitin' on you.

- You look like dog sh*t.|- No, he looks a little shrunk is all.

And not just in the head.

All right, I made a couple|of calls to Berkeley.

There was a murder in '80.|A professor.

In his bed, multiple stab wounds,|with an ice pick.

Tramell was there then,|wasn't she?

University records say she was.

Okay, let's move on this.|Gus, get out to Berkeley.

Harrigan, find out|what else she's published.

Andrews, get me that file|on the parents' accident.

Copy Beth on everything.|I want psychological input.

- What about me?|- You're already getting input.

You go soak your head|in a tub of ice water.

You see where she leads.

You have a good weekend.

You too.

Drive carefully.

- I will.|- Bye-bye.

I'll call you.

Ain't you got nothing better to do|than to jack off the damn machine?

What are you doing here, cowboy?

I came in here to jack off|the damn machine.

One dead psychology professor.

Dr. Noah Goldstein.|And guess what?

He was her counselor.

Was she a suspect?

No, sir. They never|even got a statement from her.

Hazel Dobkins?

Do you know her?

Couldn't get it|out of my head for years.

Nice little housewife.|Three little kids.

Nice husband wasn't porking around.|No financial problems.

One day, out of the clear blue sky,|she does them, all of them.

Used a knife she got|for a wedding present.

Didn't even deny it.|Sweet as honey.

Said she didn't know|why she'd done it.

- Hi.|- Am I disturbing you?

No, come on in.

Let's go upstairs.

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