ACT III

FADE IN:

EXT. THE TRUCK—DRIVE-BY—DAY

INT. THE TRUCK—MOVING—DAY

McCORMICK’S behind the wheel again. HARDCASTLE is in the passenger seat. PORTMAN, looking bewildered and frustrated, is in the middle.

PORTMAN

It wasn’t my name, and it’s not my signature.

McCORMICK

It could’ve been faked.

PORTMAN

Yeah, but it was my birthdate. Why use that?

HARDCASTLE

You ever seen your birth certificate? Applied for a passport or anything like that?

PORTMAN

No.

(beat)

I was born in a little hospital over in Needles. My mom moved here after she split with my dad. She never wanted to talk about it. I was an only child.

HARDCASTLE

Think your mom has a copy of it at home?

PORTMAN

(flat)

She’s dead.

(there’s an awkward pause and then she waves it away)

It happened when I was ten. You get used to being alone. I never thought … you think maybe … ?

HARDCASTLE

Only one way to find out.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE COUNTY RECORDS BUILDING—DAY

INT. THE MAIN FILE ROOM—DAY

ROSE CARLUCCI is standing behind her desk, arms crossed. HARDCASTLE is giving it his best shot while McCORMICK and PORTMAN look on, hopefully

HARDCASTLE

It’s an easy one, Rosie. Nothin’ fancy. We need a couple of birth certificates.

CARLUCCI

We got a whole department for that, Milt. They even take the forms by mail.

HARDCASTLE

Yeah, but we don’t have a week to wait for them to send something back.

(he smiles winningly but he’s not taking “no” for an answer)

One’s for this young lady here, Andrea Portman, that’ll be from San Bernadino County. Then we need to know if there’s another one for an Angela Pinder, same birthdate.

(he hands her a slip of paper)

Carlucci sighs. She looks at Andrea, who’s looking back, still hopeful.

McCORMICK

Come on, Rosie. This is like one of those stories at the supermarket checkout lane: “Twins separated at birth.” She just wants to know if she has a sister.

CARLUCCI

Different last names?

HARDCASTLE

We’re still working on that.

Carlucci acquiesces with a nod and sits down at her computer terminal. She looks at the paper Milt handed her, and starts typing on a keyboard.

PORTMAN

(trying, but not succeeding, to be patient)

Try Angela first.

Carlucci looks up briefly, then returns to what she was doing, backspacing a couple of times, then typing swiftly and jabbing the enter button. There’s the anticlimactic pause associated with dial-up speed. Then Rosie studies the results for a moment and turns the screen to face the others.

INSET: COMPUTER SCREEN

Text in orange-on-black reads: Angela Pinder. Born 9:01 am, June 12, 1965. St. Vincent’s Hospital, Mother: Ruth Pinder. Father: none listed.

ANGLE—PORTMAN

PORTMAN

My mother’s name was Ruth, but it was Ruth Portman.

HARDCASTLE

(quietly, to Carlucci)

Let’s see the other one.

Carlucci clears the screen and types in the new data. Same pause as the digital wheels turn. She shakes her head and turns the screen again.

CARLUCCI

Nothing. See?

HARDCASTLE

Try Andrea Pinder. Same birthddate.

Carlucci does some more keyboarding. Pause.

CARLUCCI

Okay, that’s better (she turns the screen)

Portman looks, frowning, baffled. She shakes her head and looks like she needs to sit down. We don’t need to see the screen to know what it says.

PORTMAN

(protests quietly)

There’s papers. Everything from when I was in school. My name is Portman.

(beat)

This isn’t possible.

HARDCASTLE

(sighs) Sure it is, kiddo. There’s lots of ways it

could have happened.

Portman looks at him despairingly.

HARDCASTLE

First off, your mom might have had a good reason to not want your dad around. You said she never talked about him, right?

Portman nods grudgingly.

HARDCASTLE

So your mom and dad must’ve split. Maybe they split you two as well. Or maybe she realized she couldn’t take care of the two of you, and left your sister with a friend or the county.

PORTMAN

She gave my sister away?

McCORMICK

Identical twins stick out. If you’re trying to hide from somebody, it’d make it a whole lot harder.

Portman is shaking her head slowly.

HARDCASTLE

She got a new name for herself, and she registered you for school the same way. Hell, all those folks having their kids in communes back then, the authorities were probably glad you weren’t another Moonbeam Wholegrain Sunshine or somethin’ like that.

PORTMAN

(quietly)

And I have a sister.

HARDCASTLE

Looks like it.

(to Rosie)

Any idea—?

CARLUCCI

If she stayed in California, and if she didn’t change her name —

McCORMICK

Same name, at least until ’82.

CARLUCCI

—and if you give me some time.

(beat)

I do actually work for the Records Department.

HARDCASTLE

And a fine employee you are, too. Anything you can get for us, we’ll be grateful.

CARLUCCI

I’ll let you know.

CUT TO:

EXT. A MANSION—DAY

It’s the extra-large version, with Grecian columns and a portico, the home of JASON KAYTS, a trust fund baby who’s all grown up.

INT. ELEGANT OFFICE/LIBRARY—DAY

KAYTS is ensconced behind a black walnut desk. He’s a dark-haired man with aristocratic features, the scion of wealth. Looks like J.T. HALLER is on the carpet, literally and figuratively, standing in front of the desk. He looks nervous.

HALLER

You remember that girl on the yacht, Mr. Kayts, the one maybe three years ago, the one who had the “accident”?

KAYTS

(coolly, nothing rattles this man, things get “taken care of”)

The one you took care of.

HALLER

(swallows)

Yeah, I did.

(beat)

Except it looks like maybe the girl’s turned up again.

KAYTS

(still cool, and disbelieving)

After all this time, and with those currents out there? What’s left and where did they find it—Santa Cruz?

HALLER

Not a body. Her. She showed up at Vinnie’s—he was the photog.

KAYTS

That’s not possible.

(beat—and then just a bit less cool, though still not acting as if it’s his problem)

You assured me. She was dead.

HALLER

(winces)

Yeah, we both thought so, right? But maybe she wasn’t. Maybe somebody pulled her out, or she came to and started swimming. I dunno. But Vinnie says it’s her —

(beat)

and the guy she was with, he’s a judge, and he was asking for all the papers, the stuff from the shoot.

KAYTS

A judge? Why?

(he’s heating up)

Why not the police? And why now? It’s been four years.

HALLER

I dunno about any of that. All I know is this Hardcastle guy—that’s the judge—he’s left the bench right around when that girl went in the drink. Now he’s got her and he’s nosing around Vinnie. Hell, maybe she had some brain damage or something. Maybe he’s trying to put it all together for her.

KAYTS

If he does, the path will lead right back to us.

(beat—and then with an edge of menace)

I can’t have that.

HALLER

Nossir.

(then trying to sound helpful and on top of things)

I got everything there is to get on Hardcastle.

KAYTS

(cool again—detatched)

Then you can take care of the matter?

(beat)

I mean better than you did last time?

HALLER

(swallows again— hard—but then sounds confident)

Absolutely. You don’t have to worry about a thing. I can handle it.

CUT TO:

EXT. GULL’S WAY—DAY

EXT. GULL’S WAY PATIO—DAY

There’s pizza on the table but nobody’s eating. PORTMAN is there but her mind is clearly elsewhere. McCORMICK is kitty-corner from her at the table, looking as if he’s trying to give her a little space—but he’s not real good at that.

PORTMAN

(noticing she’s being a lousy guest)

Sorry, it’s just a lot to digest. A sister, a twin—I dunno.

(beat—then looks at McCormick curiously)

Do you have any brothers or sisters?

McCORMICK

That I know of? Nope.

(beat)

It’s remotely possible my father left a few scattered around and forgot to mention them.

PORTMAN

(looks wistful, even at this less-than-sterling assessment)

I always wondered what it would have been like to have a dad.

McCORMICK

(quick and off-handed)

Well, don’t ask me.

Portman looks startled.

McCORMICK

Mine hit the road when I was five.

(beat)

And if you’re thinking of tracking yours down, I’d say it’s a bad idea. Your mom may have had good reasons for not talking about him.

PORTMAN

(gives it a moment’s thought and then nods)

Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ve never had the urge to look for him.

(beat)

But a sister …

McCORMICK

That’s different. And she probably doesn’t know about you, either.

PORTMAN

It’s weird, though, all those years I was in the system — after my mom died—I always wished I had somebody, a sister maybe. Just someone who would understand what it was like.

(beat)

But now …

McCormick opens his mouth to reply but Hardcastle comes thumping down the back steps from the kitchen door. He’s been working the phone inside. He pulls up a chair and snags a piece of pizza.

HARDCASTLE

Nothing from Rosie yet about your sis, but I ran down a little info on our other guys.

PORTMAN

(looks confused)

But Angela wasn’t underaged when those pictures were taken.

HARDCASTLE

(shrugs)

Never hurts to know all the players’ jersey numbers.

(beat—pulls a piece of paper from his shirt pocket)

First we got Vinnie D’Sousa, but he’s small potatoes. Had a couple brushes with the law early on —underage models—but he wiggled out and it looks like he’s been pretty careful the past coupla years.

McCORMICK

All that does is explain why you made him nervous.

HARDCASTLE

Unctuous little creep, wasn’t he?

(shakes his head and then glances at his paper again)

J. T. Haller, now there’s a slightly larger fish. Got his start peddling tout sheets, then moved up to printing them. Must be a lousy businessman, though, ’cause he went bust at it—and it’s not easy to lose money betting on gamblers.

McCORMICK

So he switched horses in mid-stream?

HARDCASTLE

Yup, got a new start about six years ago. A different kind of fillies. The question is, where’d he get the capital? Anyway, he still seems to be solvent, but nowadays girlie magazines are a dime a dozen, and that office of his looks pretty slick.

(notices Portman, who’s been pensively quiet—to her)

How you holding up?

PORTMAN

(smiles wanly)

I’m not sure. It’s been a weird day. I’ve been sitting here wondering if it wouldn’t be better to leave well enough alone.

(beat)

I’m not sure what I’d say to her, even if I could track her down.

(looks increasingly doubtful)

I don’t think we have much in common. I mean, what kind of a girl would—

McCORMICK

One who needed a job and didn’t have a lot of options.

PORTMAN

(a little self-righteous)

I pay the rent waiting tables and hustling tips.

McCORMICK

We’re always only one decision away from a whole different life.

(beat)

And for your sister, it might’ve not even been her own decision.

PORTMAN

(backs down, looks pensive again)

Yeah, that’s the scariest part, knowing that it could have been me.

(beat—biting her lip)

How the hell did my mom choose one of us?

It’s a toughie, and it’s greeted by a moment of awkward silence until Hardcastle shifts in his seat.

HARDCASTLE

No good answer sometimes.

(beat)

You should eat something.

PORTMAN

(shakes herself loose from her increasingly gloomy reverie, glances around—it’s getting on toward evening)

Oh, it’s late.

(rises from chair)

There’s class tomorrow and I’m way behind on my case briefs.

McCORMICK

(rising too)

I’ll take you home.

HARDCASTLE

And I’ll let you know when Rosie comes up with something.

PORTMAN

(sincere)

Thanks, both of you.

CUT TO:

EXT. PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY—NIGHT

We’re looking east, just outside Gull’s Way. We see the truck pulling out from the drive with McCORMICK behind the wheel. It turns onto the road, heading toward L.A. It hasn’t gone far when —

ANGLE—PULL BACK

We see another another vehicle—a nondescript, dark, paneled van—emerge from a secluded spot and head in the same direction as the truck.

CUT TO:

INT. THE TRUCK—NIGHT

McCormick is driving. PORTMAN is the passenger. Most of his attention is on the road, but he takes a long look in the driver’s side mirror.

PORTMAN

What’s the matter?

McCORMICK

It’s spending too much time with the Lone Ranger.

(beat)

Pretty soon you start seeing desperados behind every bush.

Portman smiles but turns halfway around and peers through the rear window. After a moment she turns back.

PORTMAN

It’s just headlights to me. And it’s not like there’s a lot of turn-offs around here.

McCORMICK

(he gives her a quick glance and a smile)

Thank you. I needed to hear the calm voice of reason.

CUT TO:

EXT. THE PACIFIC COAST HIGHWAY—NIGHT

The truck flashes by. There is a moment of silent darkness and then the nondescript van goes by as well.

CUT TO:

EXT. L.A. RESIDENTIAL STREET—NIGHT

We see a block of run-down, low rent apartment buildings—a student ghetto. There’s no foot traffic. The truck pulls up to the curb. McCORMICK exits the driver’s side. PORTMAN gets out onto the sidewalk. She meets him at the front of the truck, obviously intending to cross the street to her destination. She’s a half-step ahead of McCormick.

SERIES OF SHOTS—VERY FAST SEQUENCE

A glaring set of headlights suddenly looming behind Portman and McCormick. He lunges forward.

Close-up chaos: bodies falling. We hear shouts.

The view obscured by the headlights blurring to a brief white-out with a roar of engine noise.

Then—all is dark silence. There are two shapes huddled on the street, just in front of the parked truck. One has his head up already, staring down the street intently. It’s McCormick. He starts to stand, helping Portman up as well.

McCORMICK

You okay?

She nods, but looks shaken. Her cheek is smudged with dirt. Her things are scattered in the street. McCormick stoops again to gather them up. He picks up a something—a pair of glasses. They’re mangled.

PORTMAN

(finally finding her voice)

That was…freaky.

McCORMICK

That was the van I saw by the estate.

PORTMAN

(disbelieving)

You got a look at it here?

McCORMICK

A Ford Econoliner, midnight blue, maybe black, an ’82—plus or minus a year, California plates, L-K —

(hesitates, frowns)

and then it was too far off.

(beat—then holds up the mangled glasses)

Maybe I need a pair of these.

Hold on that, then,

CUT TO:

EXT. GULL’S WAY—NIGHT

The truck is parked in front of the main house. The driver’s side is visible and the mirror is sheered off, dangling by one screw.

INT. THE DEN—NIGHT

HARDCASTLE is sitting at his desk, tapping a pencil.

ANGLE—PULL BACK INTO FOYER.

McCORMICK descends the stairs from the second floor.

ANGLE—FROM THE DEN TOWARD THE FOYER.

McCORMICK is in the doorway. He leans casually against the jamb, arms crossed. He got scuffed up, too, and apparently hasn’t had time to do anything about it.

ANGLE—HARDCASTLE

HARDCASTLE

(concern mixed with just a hint of sarcasm)

You got her all tucked in?

ANGLE—DOORWAY

McCORMICK

Yeah, clean towels in the guest bathroom and everything. Wouldn’t want less than a four-star rating for the Gull’s Way safe house, huh?

(uncrosses arms and takes the two steps down into the den, slumping into the nearest chair —

he’s tired)

Anything back on the license plate?

HARDCASTLE

Not yet. Jeez, give ’em a couple minutes, at least.

(sighs)

Anyway, in the words of Frank Harper, “two letters is kinda partial, even for a partial.”

McCORMICK

(grouchy)

I gave ya the make and model.

HARDCASTLE

And a paneled van isn’t exactly a Lamborghini.

The phone rings. Both men reach for it, but Hardcastle is closer.

HARDCASTLE

(to receiver)

Hello? Yeah—Frank?

(he listens, reaches for a pen and pulls a pad toward him, and starts scribbling something—after a line or so)

Yeah, I’m figuring that’s it.

(beat)

No, no proof, just a good hunch.

(another beat or two, then indignant reaction)

Of course I’ll tell ya if I get anything solid. I always

do, don’t I?

(beat)

Yeah—bye.

Hardcastle hangs up, looking thoughtful. McCormick looks at him impatiently. The judge jogs out of his cogitating after a moment.

HARDCASTLE

(obvious)

Frank.

McCORMICK

(impatient)

And?

HARDCASTLE

We got a midnight blue ’82 Econoliner with a plate LKZ-582 registered to SoCal Systems, Inc.

McCORMICK

Who’s that?

HARDCASTLE

That’s a privately held company owned by a guy named Jason Kayts.

McCormick still looks blank.

HARDCASTLE

Rosie called back after you two left. I had her dig a little deeper into the Moonglow set-up. Turns out the building it’s in is owned by SoCal.

McCORMICK

So—?

HARDCASTLE

That building and the printing facilities where Moonglow’s publications are generated. Kayts is more than J.T.Haller’s silent partner, I’d say Haller is a wholly-owned subsidiary of Kayts.

There’s a moment of silence as McCormick appears to be thinking this through, then suddenly reaches the obvious.

McCORMICK

You’ve heard of this Kayts guy before?

HARDCASTLE

Yup.

(picks up pencil and taps it a couple of times on the pad)

Not a nice man, but it’s all rumors, no facts.

McCORMICK

What kind of “not nice” are we talking about?

HARDCASTLE

He’s got an ex-wife who went missing off Santa Barbara back in the ’70s. A few parts turned up, months later, but nothing that would prove what shape she was in before she hit the water.

(beat)

The rumor was that she wanted out of the marriage, that she told her friends Kayts was abusive.

(beat)

There’s something else Rosie told me.

McCORMICK

About Kayts?

HARDCASTLE

No, about Angela Pinder.

(beat)

That’s a cold trail. No address, nothing in the DMV.

McCORMICK

How cold?

HARDCASTLE

Nothing since ’82.

McCORMICK

She changed her name. Lots of girls in that line of work do that I’ll bet.

HARDCASTLE

And I called Gus back, asked him if he remembered any other spreads with Angela in them.

(beat)

I didn’t want to ask him while Andrea was there.

McCormick nods.

HARDCASTLE

He says there’s nothing else. So she didn’t stay in the business.

McCORMICK

So you think …

HARDCASTLE

I think she’s dead. But Rosie can’t find any record of that, either. No marriage license, no death certificate, nothin’.

McCormick glances up toward the ceiling.

HARDCASTLE

Doesn’t look like there’s gonna be one of those happy endings like in the Reader’s Digest. But I’d at least like to find out what happened to her.

(beat)

And I think maybe I know why they’re trying to kill her sister.

Hold on that, and,

CUT TO BLACK

NEXT ACT