Pink Elephants

Written for NYC Midnight short screenplay challenge.

Heat6

Subject: Crime Caper

Character: Apprentice

Setting: Circus

Logline: Chicago’s first permanent circus is opening in a week, but
what with prohibition and all, it may be more than it seems.

PINK ELEPHANTS

1 EXT. CHICAGO STREETS

Sweeping shot over moonlit rooftops. A female voice speaks
in a thick New York accent. It is VALERIE.

VALERIE V/O
I’m a PI, at least I call myself a
PI. It’d be more correct to call
myself a consulting detective, but
then I’d sound like a tweedy Brit
and that hardly goes over well
around here.

The camera dips down to street level to show two men
talking.

VALERIE V/O
I have to consult, mind you. Most
people wouldn’t trust a dame with
their case. The police keep it
quiet of course but I don’t really
mind, I like to keep a low profile.
I’m the last thing criminals expect
from a detective. Credit would be
nice someday, but then I’d have to
contend with the inevitable push
back. Out of the frying pan and
into the fire I suppose. Damn it, I
sound like a Brit again.

ADLER and SMITH stand outside a large warehouse. It has been
raining and the streets have a light sheen, reflecting the
streetlights. ADLER is British, but speaks with an American
accent unless specified.

SMITH
(lights a cigarette)
So what kind of operation are you
planning on running here?
Contortionists and bearded ladies,
that kind of thing?

ADLER
(narrows his eyes)
With the best will in the world,
Mr. Smith, we are a circus, not a
freak show.

SMITH
Is there commonly a difference?

ADLER
Some shows are both, I grant you,
but we have acrobats and animal
tamers, trained professionals, not
people forced by an accident of
birth to parade themselves around
for the public’s amusement. (pause)
We do have a contortionist.

SMITH
I can’t tell if you’re at all
sympathetic.

ADLER
I prefer to keep people guessing. I
am the Great Addler after all. Now
how long will this take?

SMITH
Not long, if you find the location
suitable.

ADLER
I’m sure I will.

There is a pause.

SMITH
"The Great Addler", sounds more
like a magician than a circus
performer.

ADLER
(smiles)
Oh there’s crossover. This isn’t
just for kids, you know.

SMITH
(nods, pauses)
You do realize that a permanent
circus is an unusual arrangement,
don’t you?

ADLER
Mr. Smith, I have been in this
business for twenty years, of
course I know that. Everyone knows
that.

SMITH
Then you know it’s a bit of a risk
for me.

ADLER
(leans in close)
Look at it this way, if I fail I’m
just the man paying you rent, but
if I succeed you will forever own
the building where Chicago’s
Eternal circus is housed.

SMITH
(looks uncomfortable, but
collects himself)
Alright. If you’ll just come with
me around the corner we’ll get the
paperwork sorted out.

2  EXT. CHICAGO STREETS - NIGHT
ADLER leaves SMITH’s office and enters a phone box. He dials
a number. It rings twice then there is a click.

ADLER
We’re golden, I’ll be back in half
an hour if Harry hasn’t completely
abandoned me with the car.
A rough, South London British man’s voice answers.

RUPERT
How much?

ADLER
500 a month.

RUPERT
Please tell me that isn’t 500 K?

ADLER
Nope, 500 greenbacks even.

RUPERT
Do you really have to keep up that
ridiculous accent all the time?

ADLER
(in his British accent, more
posh than RUPERT)
I’m practicing, you should as well.

RUPERT
I’m your British lion tamer, I
don’t need to practice.

ADLER
The guys we’re selling to won’t buy
from a Brit and you’ve always been
the one on the ground; You should
practice.

RUPERT
(in a perfect Chicago drawl)
Fine. When can we start?

ADLER
(American again)
Whenever your end’s ready.

RUPERT
We’ll start in a week then.

From here on out RUPERT is also using an American accent
unless specified. RUPERT hangs up. HARRY pulls up in the car
and ADLER gets in. The car starts to pull forward but there
is a desperate knock at the window. The car lurches to a
stop. ADLER rolls down the window. DIANE is on the other
side. She is dressed in a low cut lacy shirt and high heels
with a short skirt. ADLER admires her curvy figure for a
moment.

DIANE
(slightly out of breath)
Hey, please I’m on the run, would
you help me? Please? Let me in the
car.

ADLER
(looks at her getup with a
raised eyebrow)
Are the cops on your tail?

DIANE
No, I don’t think so, but they’re
looking for me, please can you
help?

ADLER
(nods)
Get in.

They sit in silence for a few moments. DIANE relaxes, then
looks down at her clothes, realizing how the situation
looks.

DIANE
Look, don’t expect a reward, okay?
I’m not what you think; I just
dress like this to get attention.

ADLER
For what?

DIANE
My man’s a bootlegger. I help out
with most areas of operation, and
pretty girls attract people to the
speakeasy. Only our joint’s just
been busted and I think I’m the
only one who got out.

ADLER
How did you get out?

DIANE
(shrugs)
I ran.

ADLER
And you abandoned your fella?

DIANE
I’m a survivor. I couldn’t help him
and there’s no point getting
arrested for bootlegging.

ADLER
Oh indeed?

DIANE
Look, I believe in the law
generally, but Prohibition is the
worst mistake this government’s
ever made, which is saying a lot.
We ran a good business, we made the
place safer, to be perfectly frank.
We never stocked anything that
wasn’t top quality. We never had
any Jake-walkers, and no one ever
went blind from our hooch, that’s a
stone cold fact.

HARRY
(laughs)
Smart dame.

ADLER
Shut up, Harry. (turns back to
DIANE) So you know suppliers then
(DIANE nods), and I’m guessing you
know the big buyers?

DIANE
(smiles)
Always know the competition.

ADLER
Did you just sell or can you make
your own product?

DIANE
Only whiskey. But I’m good at it.

ADLER
(laughs)
Harry, I think we’ve found
ourselves a new business partner.
What’s your name, sister?

DIANE
Diane Weston.

ADLER
Adler Chandler. Welcome aboard, do
you like the circus, Diane?

3 INT. POLICE DEPT. - MORNING
BRIAN sits at his desk, his phone rings.

BRIAN
Hello?

VALERIE
Hello, Brian.

BRIAN
Val, good work last night, I
thought we were supposed to pick
you up though, I was worried.

VALERIE
Something came up, I’m fine. You
know me, never without a backup
plan.

BRIAN
Yeah I suppose. To what do I owe
this conversation?

VALERIE
I’m busy suddenly, as I say
something’s come up, tonight won’t
do for a lesson, but I should be
free next week Saturday.

BRIAN
Actually I’m going to the circus
that day.

VALERIE
Really, that’s not like you.

BRIAN
Well apparently someone’s opening
an "eternal circus", haven’t you
seen the fliers? They’re everywhere
suddenly. I thought I’d see opening
night.

VALERIE
Desperate to see the opening of a
show that promises to be permanent?

BRIAN
Well, it’s a stupid idea, it
probably won’t last.

VALERIE
(the smile in her voice is
audible)
No, I suppose it won’t.

BRIAN
Hang on, do you know something?

VALERIE
Meet me there and we’ll see if you
can figure it out.

BRIAN
(sighs)
Val, you do know the boys give me
hell for learning detective work
from a girl, right?

VALERIE
Well, you just remind them that
you’re smarter than all of them put
together and without me the
department would be dead in the
water. Also I’ll kick their asses.

BRIAN
Yeah, Peterson remembers. Who knew
anyone could get enough balance for
a kick in stiletto heels?

VALERIE
Well, I did, because I practiced.

BRIAN
(pauses for a moment)
Why do you put up with me?

VALERIE
Well for one thing you’re the only
honest cop in the city, as far as I
can see.

BRIAN
(smiles, nods)
And for another?

VALERIE
You’ve got the soul of a detective,
I can see that, the way you look
around, the way you ask questions.
How you’re just cynical enough to
understand how people tick without
completely losing your mind. I’ve
never told you this before?

BRIAN
You’re not usually one for
compliments.

VALERIE
Well, you never ask for them.
Anyway, I’m in a good mood now.

BRIAN
Something is definitely up, then?

VALERIE just laughs and hangs up. BRIAN shrugs and smiles.

4 INT. WAREHOUSE DISTILLERY SIDE - DAY

DIANE, ADLER, and RUPERT are standing by crates and crates
of booze. There is also a still in the corner, bubbling
away.

DIANE
So the circus is a front, eh?

RUPERT
We’re standing in a room full of
illegal booze. Please tell me
that’s clear enough evidence for
you that the circus is a front.

DIANE
(smiles to herself)
Sure thing, Boss.

ADLER
Don’t be so hard on her, Rupert,
remember she’s got information that
could increase our profits by leaps
and bounds. Do you have the list,
Diane?

DIANE
(hands over some sheets of
paper)
There’s you main buyers,
speakeasies, rich booze hoarders,
then there’s your best suppliers,
good stuff, no poison. And I’ve
included the main people who’d
rather kill you than work with you.
Why a circus, by the way?

RUPERT
Because Adler knows circuses and I
know smuggling.

ADLER
I’ve got the best people in the
country. They’re rehearsing now if
you want to see.

DIANE
I’d love to.

ADLER
It’s a little rough; we don’t open
for another week.

DIANE turns to go. RUPERT pulls ADLER aside, whispers, using
his real voice.

RUPERT
I don’t trust her.

ADLER
(also using his real voice)
Come on, she’s perfect. (watches
DIANE’s legs as she walks away)

RUPERT
That’s just it; she’s too perfect,
her information is too close to
exactly what we need. Also we both
know you’re easily allured.

ADLER
Give her a week, Rupert.

RUPERT
Fine, just a week and if anything
fishy comes up, she’s gone.

5 INT. WAREHOUSE CIRCUS SIDE - EVENING

BRIAN sits down just as the show begins. ADLER comes on
stage first, welcomes the crowd, and performs a few magic
tricks. The audience is loving it. It is actually a good
show. Next the acrobats come on stage through a huge
billowing curtain. BRIAN sniffs, frowns, and slips out.

6 EXT. WAREHOUSE - EVENING

BRIAN is standing in a phone box, there are two rings on the
other line.

POLICE CHIEF
Yes?

BRIAN
Hey, Chief? It’s Brian. I think
this new circus thing is a front
for a distillery; I need
reinforcements.

POLICE CHIEF
Why do you say that?

BRIAN
I smelled it. They tried to hide it
with incense but I could tell; I’ve
got a nose for it. Plus they’re
using less than half the building
for the circus.

7 INT. WAREHOUSE DISTILLERY SIDE - NIGHT

ADLER and RUPERT enter. DIANE is checking the still.

DIANE
Excellent first show boys. Now the
apprentice equals the master.

RUPERT
What?

DIANE
I wasn’t talking to you.
BRIAN runs in with five policemen.

BRIAN
Hello Val! Fancy seeing you here.

DIANE smiles; she is in fact VALERIE. She switches to
VALERIE’s accent.

VALERIE
Welcome! Good sleuthing, Brian.

RUPERT
(a hint of his British accent
showing through in his anger)
I knew it, I knew we couldn’t trust
you! Who are you really?

VALERIE
I’m with the circus.

RUPERT
(furious, losing his American
accent completely)
Make some sense woman!

VALERIE sighs. The rest of her lines are in a British
accent.

VALERIE
I’m from the circus, only mine is
Piccadilly.

She pulls out a badge proclaiming her Valerie Ibbot of His
Majesty’s secret service. BRIAN pauses in the middle of
handcuffing RUPERT with a look of shock. ADLER takes a step
back in horror, RUPERT’s face is a mask of rage.

ADLER
(With his British voice)
They followed us. God damn it they
followed us!

VALERIE
You’re the whole reason I came to
Chicago. I played a classy New York
PI for a while to scout out the
area, then I pounced. You bought my
story faster then I could have ever
expected, but then again I use what
I’ve got (she throws back her
shoulders with a rakish wink).
Diane’s a little more brash about
it than I am, did you like that?

BRIAN
Hang on, what the hell is going on?

VALERIE
I’m sorry to have lied to you,
Brian. Adler and co. tried a
similar stunt in London in ’25.
They escaped capture, but Scotland
Yard heard they’d moved to Chicago
and I was assigned to catch them
here. (turns to RUPERT) Although I
must say this is a step up morally
from stolen antiquities. I meant
what I said about prohibition being
utter crock; it’ll never last.

BRIAN
(stunned)
So do they have more female agents
in Britain?

VALERIE
God no, I’m the only one I know of.
I started out as a secretary and
moved through the ranks at a
snail’s pace. They barely let me
have this case, which as they go is
pretty mundane. I handled it
brilliantly though, they won’t be
able to ignore that.

ADLER, RUPERT and the five policemen move off. BRIAN
remains, still slightly stunned.

VALERIE
And now, Brian, we have got to go
find someone named Harry before he
gets wind of this. I lost track of
him somewhere along the way. (BRIAN
doesn’t move) Well come on!

END

Round 1, Heat20, Suspense, "Why Would I Tell You?"

Written for NYC Midnight Short Story Challenge.

Synopsis:

Someone is getting married, someone is going to die and someone is the killer. I know exactly what will happen, but I’m not going to tell you, not until it is too late.

 Why Would I Tell You?

Hello, have you been paying attention? Have you paid attention as the guests file in and the music starts and the Groom takes his place?

Are you sitting comfortably?

Then you haven’t been paying attention.

Something is going to happen. I will tell you what when dinner is over, but that is all I will tell you until it is too late.

 

The Groom stands at the head of the church, the Bride is walking down the aisle. The Groom is smiling, but a twitch of his lip gives away his nerves. It has nothing to do with the wedding itself; he is certain that marriage is the right decision. No, he is nervous because he knows something. So does his soon to be wife, but she shows nothing but joy. But she was always the better at her job. That is all behind them now, or it will be after tonight.

His smile is not a lie though, nor is hers as they recite their vows. They do not promise to love each other; they would not be getting married if they did not. They do not promise to be faithful; there is no one else they would ever desire. They do not promise to care for each other; that will be a natural product of their love. They do not promise anything; they simply tell the truth. They say that they are the only reason the other is alive. They say that the prospect of a future together is the most exciting and thrilling thing they can imagine. They say thank you. And that is all, and then they kiss, husband and wife.

She touches his arm gently as they sit down to dinner, and he smiles. The Bride exchanges glances with the best man and chief bridesmaid, who nod subtly. The best man exchanges a glance with the chef, who quietly slips back into the kitchen. Then dinner begins, a man with no invitation sits at a table in the back and no one seems to have noticed.

 

Someone is going to die. I know who it is, but I’m not going to tell you, not until it’s too late. I’m not even going to tell you what it will be too late for. I could tell you that it would be too late for the one who’s going to die, but I could as easily be lying. It could as easily be too late to snatch the last miniature Pavlova from the center table before the nervous Groom snaps it up. It could be too late to warn him that the Prosecco he’s about to wash it down with is horrible. It could be too late to mention that it is also, incidentally, poisoned.

But if I told you that you would think that he’s the one who’s going to die, and I said I wasn’t telling.

 

The head chef sits nervously in the back of the church. The catering is going off without a hitch, but she just plans the menu and supervises plating nowadays anyway. She’s a good friend of the Bride and Groom, but she’s perfectly capable of pulling off a wedding buffet, she wasn’t just asked because she’s a friend. She’s been trying to kick her cigarette habit, which was why she refused to be bridesmaid, in everyone’s interest, but this is more than nicotine deprived jitters. She is waiting for something, something that she cannot control, but that she set in motion.

She gets up, paces outside. Ordinarily she would supervise packing up, but the staff are perfectly capable. She hears clapping from inside. The best man’s speech is about to begin. Whatever is going to happen will happen now. She quietly slips back into the church and sits at a table near the back.

 

Something is going to cause the death. I know what it will be, but I will not breathe a word, not until the body slips to the floor. I’m not even going to tell you whether it’s happened yet. I could tell you that it already happened while the chef was plating a particular dish, but if you’ve been paying attention, and I hope you have, you won’t believe that. It could happen when the ceremonial pistol firing a ceremonial shot at this strange wedding turns out to be loaded. It could be another gun, this one under the arm of a woman who’s just stepped into the church with a picture of someone in her pocket next to her assignment.

But if I told you that you’d think that it will be murder, and I said you wouldn’t hear it from me.

 

The best man smiles as the clapping stops. He nods at the happy couple, and they smile back. He has been close to crying all throughout dinner at the memory of their hopeful, incredulously happy vows. Now he pulls himself together, determined to send them off with a speech that does them justice. They are trying to leave something behind, but who isn’t? He can tell that something’s wrong. The Groom’s eyelids are drooping, and the Bride notices too. She frowns, but whispers for the best man to go on.

Everyone knows that they were something in the military, but almost no one knows quite what. There are five people in the room who know what they did. The two of them, of course, the best man, and the chef. And a man sitting at the furthest table, who no one seems to have yet noticed did not have an invitation.

 

Someone is going to commit a crime. I know who it will be, but I am not going to tell you who will do it. I’m not going to tell you what they will do, or when. I could say that it happened when a bottle’s contents was dripped into someone’s dinner, but why would I tell you the truth? It could just as easily happen when the Bride’s out of work cousin gives them a pirated mix CD which for all its apparent insignificance is a deeply personal gesture. It could have happened with the deft motion of the bridesmaid’s hand over the Groom’s drink.

But if I told you that you’d think that the she did it, and I swore I wouldn’t tell you.

 

The man with no invitation sits watching. He can feel the pressure of the tiny bottle in his pocket. It is meant for a bottle of Champagne in the Bride and Groom’s suite. If all else fails he has smuggled in two bullets, don’t ask how, and pilfered the pistol which was meant to fire the ceremonial shot.

He is about to slip out while everyone pays attention to the speech, but notices the Groom’s chalky white face. No one else could have possibly done his job for him, could they? The odds aren’t terrific but he isn’t one to dismiss any possibility out of hand. He decides to wait and watch. He is rewarded by the sight of the Groom slumping in a heap to the floor.

 

Someone else knows who is going to die. You think you know, but you do not. I’m not even going to tell you how many know. I could tell you that it is five, and they know because they planned the whole thing, but that would mean swearing five people to secrecy, and you know about people, don’t you? I could tell you that it is two, and they know because they poisoned the Groom. I could tell you that it is one, and he knows because he plans to kill the newlyweds.

But if I said that you’d think that it was the man without an invitation, and I said you didn’t know.

 

 The Groom is slipping quickly from consciousness, it is unlike anything he has experienced before, but he tries to remain calm, to tell his wife he loves her. He can see the Bridesmaid’s face, she nods once, no clear emotion discernable from her expression. He can feel his heart thumping erratically. It is no poison that he ever experienced before, in all his years at his particular profession. But only four others know what he did. The woman who poisoned him didn’t know.

His wife knows, but she smiles gently, and catches his head as his eyes close.

 

Somewhere soon there will be a scream. I know what sight will cause it, but by then you will be blind. I’m not even going to tell you who will scream. I could tell you it will be the chief bridesmaid, but what reason at all have I given you to trust a word I say? It could as easily be the best man yelling for help as he sees his friend go limp and still. It could be the doctor’s harsh bark as he tells people to get out of the way.

But then you would get entirely the wrong idea of the situation.

 

The Bride isn’t panicking. This is more than military nerves of steel, she does not feel a need to panic. Her new husband is lying unconscious on the floor, and there is no doubt at all that she loves him, but she is not panicking. She knows exactly what is going on, she knows that this is necessary for their future happiness. While he was conscious he knew what was happening too. So does the best man, so does the chef, so does the chief bridesmaid though she doesn’t know all of the reasons.

The church is erupting in panicked noise but the people who should be panicking the most are only acting.

 

Have you figured it out yet? I hope you have, because now it is definitely too late. Do you want to know why?

Somewhere in this room is me. But you won’t know where I am, not when it matters. I won’t even tell you whether you can see me. I could tell you that I’m the Chef at the next table, who you notice now is no longer there, but what reason at all have I given you to trust me? I could easily be the bridesmaid hiding away the vial she slipped into the Groom’s drink. I could be the woman who’s just stepped up behind you with a gun under her arm, and a picture of you in her pocket.

But if I told you that I’d be playing fair, because there’s still time to turn your head, to pull your own gun from your pocket, to run. And who ever said this was a game?

 

The uninvited man turns and grabs his assailant before she can draw her gun and wrestles her to the ground. He pulls out his stolen gun, already loaded, but as he stands up to fire he falters, suddenly dizzy. Amid the confusion hardly anyone has noticed, and the man with no invitation crumples to the floor with the realization that he is dying. His attacker stands up and pulls something from her pocket with a look of contempt.

 

You’ve figured it out now, haven’t you? Crashing a wedding is hardly good form, and crashing with an intent to murder simply won’t do. But we were onto you all along, in case you still haven’t noticed. It was all to distract you until it was too late. Because while you wondered whether someone else had done your job for you you didn’t notice what was missing and go to plan B. Because whatever happened in the Bride and Groom’s past, they have a right to a fresh start. Because you should really keep valuables in an inside pocket. Because you should have made sure it was still the same bottle after the waiter ran into you. Because you should have known the taste of your own poison. Because I am the chef, looking down at you, waving your empty bottle in a hand that is steadied by triumph.

And wasn’t the veal Marsala simply to die for?