Initiate of the Pen

FADE IN:

DUTCH is sitting at his desk in his messy wooden office.  His feet are up on the desk, and he is staring intently into a glass of scotch that he is swilling in his right hand.

He puts the glass to his lips and takes a slow sip. Then continues gazing into the glass.

DUTCH (V.O.)

Something didn’t click. Everything’s
there, I’m sure of it. But somehow I
didn’t feel right. Like I’d left the
iron on at home. Only one thousand
times worse. Maybe it was the calm way
she took the news about her husband’s
death.

DUTCH downs the last of his scotch. He pulls his legs off the desk, and grabs a half-empty bottle and his glass, and puts them in a drawer.

DUTCH walks to the door, grabs his coat and jacket off the back on a chair, and scans his office briefly.

DUTCH (V.O.)

So did she kill him? Maybe, yeah. But
then why hire me to find him? Sure,
I’d only found his body this morning,
but if she killed him she knew how
close I was.

DUTCH switches of the office light, and walks out the door.

DISSOLVE TO:

DUTCH is sitting in his car. He grabs a cigarette from a scrunched packet, he puts it to his lips, and searches his pockets, all while keeping a casual eye on the road as he is driving.

DUTCH (V.O.)

Maybe she was just plain crazy. The
pretty ones always are, just a little.
And the stiff was greedy.

He finds some matches as he comes to a set of lights, and lights the cigarette. A car is following.

DUTCH (V.O.)

Now I gotta break it to his fling on
the side. Her pretty face will scrunch
up like paper, she’ll squirt out a few
tears, and just remember the good
things they had. Never mind he was a
cheating creep.

The car behind DUTCH overtakes his. DUTCH draws on his cigarette, and watches the car from behind.

DUTCH (V.O.)

Maybe the girlfriend did it. That’d
explain why she was in hiding. Took me
long enough to find her. But that didn’t
feel right either. Nothing in her file
read that way. Guess I’ll just have to
see how she takes the news - read her
body language, hope it’s an open book.

DUTCH drives on, flicking his cigarette out the window.

CUT TO:

DUTCH pulls up in his car, turns off the lights. He looks toward the house, and lights a cigarette.

DUTCH (V.O.)

I can’t shake this bad feeling. Like a
tender bruise you push just to see if it
still hurts, my mind goes back to the
unease I’m feeling.

He gets out of the car, and slowly walks toward the house along a small path.

DUTCH (V.O.)

Ok, so probably the wife killed him.
Pretty, but crazy; she hires me to find
her husband. The husband she killed.
Doesn’t make sense.

Stopping half-way down the path to the house, DUTCH inhales from the cigarette deeply, then throws it down, stamping on it.

DUTCH (V.O.)

Different problem now, time to pluck up
the courage to break the bad news. To
the fling. A wife. A fling…

DUTCH notices the car that overtook him earlier to the side of the house, partially obscured by bushes. He frowns.

DUTCH (V.O.)

Unless she hired me to find…

DUTCH looks back at the house, wide eyed and open-mouthed. He struggles to pull a gun from his shoulder holster.

DUTCH (V.O.)
(urgent)

And that would mean I lead her straight…

Light flashes through the windows, and a gunshot rings out.

CUT TO BLACK…