Klute Page #5

INT. CITY MULTILAYERED PARKING BUILDING - KLUTE'S

CAR - NIGHT

KLUTE sits inside his car as it is mechanically

lifted into the air. It looks as if he is being

manipulated by a robot.

EXT. STREET:
OUTSIDE THE BROWNSTONE - NIGHT

BREE moves along street, returning home,

apprehensive of the one or two other distant

FIGURES. She turns in at one of the Brownstones.

INT. STAIRWELL OF BROWNSTONE - NIGHT

We watch Bree as she mounts to the top floor, the

door of her apartment, barren, isolated,

frightened.

INT. BREE'S APTARTMENT - NIGHT

BREE unlocks the door, switches on a light, cases

the apartment for a moment before entering,

securing chain-lock, putting aside her things.

There is a RECORD PLAYER near the first interior

doorway. She switches it as she moves by. By time

the first record has dropped, she has the shower

turned on, is getting rid of her dress. We CUT BACK

TO --

EXT. EMPTY STREET: KLUTE - NIGHT

Klute walks, as before, carrying his suitcase. We

see him slow, concernedly looking toward --

INT. BREE'S APARTMENT: ON BREE - NIGHT

Bree sits on a studio couch, near the record

player, with a QUILT huddled over and around her,

her back against the wall. The MUSIC is classical,

curiously -- the sound of a HARPSICHORD. She is

more or less expressionless -- but trembling

violently, shaking.

FRONT WINDOW SIGN BEING REMOVED WHICH READS "FOR

RENT" - STORE - INQUIRE CRAWICZ, DAY

INT. BREE's APARTMENT: BREE - DAY

Bree moves about energetically, preparing to set

out on rounds. A KNOCK on the door. She startled,

then approaches to door, to peep-hole, lifts lid

aside.

THROUGH PEEPHOLE TO KLUTE FACE

Klute's face is somewhat distorted by the peephole

lens; he is gazing mildly about the landing.

BREE:

BREE:

(through door, curtly)

What is it?

KLUTE (O.S.)

Miss Daniel? My name is Klute --

John Klute --

She turns the door handle , parts the door about

three inches, looks through at him. He starts to

enter.

KLUTE (CONT'D)

Can I talk to you?

-- and the door crunches against its chain-lock. He

stops perforce, a bit startled. A pause. A slice of

Bree's face looks coldly out at him. He summons a

smile.

BREE:

What about?

KLUTE:

My name's John Klute.

BREE:

You said that.

KLUTE:

I'm an investigator. I'd like to

ask you some questions about Tom

Grunemann.

She tightens again.

BREE:

Who?

KLUTE:

Tom Grunemann. He wrote you some

letters.

BREE:

(innocently)

Gee.

KLUTE:

He was a research engineer at the

Tuscarora Laboratories in

Pennsylvania. He disappeared from

there last April. I've been hired

to look for him.

BREE:

Why?

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