FULL SCREEN PHOTOGRAPH
Grainy but unmistakably a man and woman making love.
Photograph shakes. SOUND of a man MOANING in anguish. The
photograph is dropped, REVEALING ANOTHER, MORE compromising
one. Then another, and another. More moans.
INT. GITTES' OFFICE
CURLY drops the photos on Gittes' desk. Curly towers over
GITTES and sweats heavily through his workman's clothes, his
breathing progressively more labored. A drop plunks on Gittes'
shiny desk top.
Gittes notes it. A fan whiffs overhead. Gittes glances up at
it. He looks cool and brisk in a white linen suit despite
the heat. Never taking his eyes off Curly, he lights a
cigarette using a lighter with a "nail" on his desk.
Curly, with another anguished sob, turns and rams his fist
into the wall, kicking the wastebasket as he does. He starts
to sob again, slides along the wall where his fist has left
a noticeable dent and its impact has sent the signed photos
of several movie stars askew.
Curly slides on into the blinds and sinks to his knees. He
is weeping heavily now, and is in such pain that he actually
bites into the blinds.
Gittes doesn't move from his chair.
All right, enough is enough -you
can't eat the Venetian blinds,
Curly. I just had 'em installed on
Curly responds slowly, rising to his feet, crying. Gittes
reaches into his desk and pulls out a shot glass, quickly
selects a cheaper bottle of bourbon from several fifths of
more expensive whiskeys.
Gittes pours a large shot. He shoves the glass across his
desk toward Curly.
-- Down the hatch.
Curly stares dumbly at it. Then picks it up, and drains it.
He sinks back into the chair opposite Gittes, begins to cry
(drinking, relaxing a
She's just no good.
What can I tell you, Kid?
You're right. When you're right,
you're right, and you're right.
-- Ain't worth thinking about.
Gittes leaves the bottle with Curly.
You're absolutely right, I wouldn't
give her another thought.
You know, you're okay, Mr. Gittes.
I know it's your job, but you're
breathing a little
Thanks, Curly. Call me Jake.
Thanks. You know something, Jake?
What's that, Curly?
I think I'll kill her.
INT. DUFFY & WALSH'S OFFICE
noticeably less plush than Gitte's. A well-groomed, dark-
haired WOMAN sits nervously between their two desks, fiddling
with the veil on her pillbox hat.
-- I was hoping Mr. Gittes could see
to this personally -
(almost the manner of
-- If you'll allow us to complete
our preliminary questioning, by then
he'll be free.
There is the SOUND of ANOTHER MOAN coming from Gittes' Office -something
made of glass shatters. The Woman grows more edgy.
INT. GITTES' OFFICE - GITTES & CURLY
Gittes and Curly stand in front of the desk, Gittes staring
contemptuously at the heavy breathing hulk towering over
him. Gittes takes a handkerchief and wipes away the plunk of
perspiration on his desk.
They don't kill a guy for that.
Oh they don't?
Not for your wife. That's the
Gittes pounds the photos on the desk, shouting;
I'll tell you the unwritten law, you
dumb son of a bitch, you gotta be
rich to kill somebody, anybody and
get away with it. You think you got
that kind of dough, you think you
got that kind of class?