Best Seller Page #4

- He's incredible, isn't he?

Here it comes.

David! David, we must be leaving.

We'll see you around, I hope.

We've got him on the run.

OK, so you know the guy.

What's that prove?

You're a hard man to convince. I like that.

Yeah.

What the hell you doin' here?

You think I'm approving overtime?

Relax. It's on me.

I'm going to need a few days, Monksy,

out of town. I think I'm onto something.

What?

I can't tell you. Look, make it sick leave

if you want. I'm way overdue.

Just what the department needs.

A mystery crime-fighter.

I gotta play this one out, Monks.

I want this guy.

I mean, I really want him.

Beltzer was an auditor for the IRS.

He fell in his shower.

- Cracked his skull. They found him dead.

- And you killed him? Why?

It's the service I perform.

It was the profession I was in.

- Why did he have to die?

- Because he carried this at all times.

He was a meticulous, fussy man,

and somehow he got it into his head

that Kappa International kept two sets

of books. He had a nose for that.

See? Kappa. Kappa. Again, Kappa.

He was not going to close that audit.

Two years later, it was a member of the SEC.

Fell asleep at the wheel, hit a divider. Dead.

- Cleve, you're full of sh*t.

- What is that supposed to mean?

What is that supposed to mean? You could've forged that.

Or picked it up in a public toilet, for Christ's sake.

- This isn't evidence, it's bullshit.

- Next time I'll take pictures(!)

- Stop wasting my time.

- Fine.

Let's get the hell out of here.

We're going to the airport.

What about the other stops?

Tell it to the Manhattan DA.

I'm not interested any more.

Hey, mind if I go for a pack of butts?

Get out.

You're interested again, aren't you?

Come on.

It wasn't even my cab. I was just toId

to pick you guys up and ditch you.

- I didn't know it was a torch job.

- Yeah, right.

- Who were they?

- I don't know. I never saw them before...

- Not good enough.

- Take it easy.

He tried to kill us.

- Pearlman?

- No.

- Brennan?

- No.

- Thorn?

- No.

Don't be an a**hole. Talk to the man.

No, no.

It was Thorn and Pearlman.

- You're making me a dead man.

- Maybe.

Hey! Cab!

- What the hell was that all about?

- Nothin'. Forget it.

Brooklyn Heights.

- See him?

- Yep.

Mrs Foster

- Yes?

- My name is Bowen. Allen Bowen.

This is Mr GiIbert, my associate.

And we're very sorry to disturb you,

but we're in town for the evening,

you know, on business, and...

My father used to own this house.

I grew up here.

- Oh, that Mr Bowen.

- Yes.

WouId you think it strange if I were

to ask you, could I see my old room?

- Well, I don't know. It's...

- No. You're absolutely right.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes