ACT II
FADE IN:
EXT. A VINTAGE MAGAZINE STORE – DAY
Lots of old copies of Life and Look in the window, maybe some Sports Illustrateds with black and white covers. HARDCASTLE, McCORMICK, and PORTMAN are standing on the sidewalk.
HARDCASTLE
The guy’s a whiz. He’s got a mind like a
steel trap. Knows every inch of . . . ah—
McCORMICK
HARDCASTLE
(casts McCormick a grimace but keeps
things polite in front of company – to Andrea)
But you don’t have to come in. We can show him
the photo, see if he remembers seeing it before.
PORTMAN
(beat – glances at the window)
Besides, it doesn’t look that bad.
HARDCASTLE
This is just the front. The brown paper
wrapper stuff is in the back room.
Off Portman’s dubious look we,
CUT TO:
INT. VINTAGE MAGAZINE STORE – DAY
A bell over the door tinkles as Hardcastle steps through the door, with Portman and McCormick behind him.
ANGLE – THE COUNTER
A balding, middle aged guy, GUS, is sitting there. He’s reading one of the magazines and, in fact, that is his primary justification for owning the shop. Reacting to the sight of his new visitors he grins.
GUS
Hey, Judge, long time no see!
ANGLE – THE THREE VISITORS
Hardcastle smiles at the effusive greeting. Andrea looks uncertain. McCormick gives Hardcastle an amused glance.
HARDCASTLE
GUS
Well, you know – buy a few, sell a few.
HARDCASTLE
PORTMAN
(steps forward, impatient)
Have you ever seen me before – I mean, in
(holds her head at a certain angle and assumes
Gus looks bemused.
McCORMICK
More hair and fewer clothes.
GUS
(he looks her up and down for a moment)
Yeah . . . sure. I never forget a . . . smile.
(but his eyes have come to rest a bit lower than that)
Gus is up off his stool and heads for the back. He’s only just stepped into the back room when McCormick leans in toward Hardcastle.
McCORMICK
HARDCASTLE
He collects stuff for me.
McCormick’s not quite so amused, maybe a little surprised. Off his reaction –
HARDCASTLE
Where do you think I get all that stuff
ANGLE – THE BACKROOM DOORWAY
Gus is returning, his nose buried in a magazine. It is tastefully covered in brown paper. He holds it up briefly for them.
GUS
This one’s cherry. Original wrapper and everything.
Hardcastle, McCormick and Portman crowd in at the counter, across from Gus, who’s resumed his place on the stool. Hardcastle takes the magazine and fans it open to the masthead page.
HARDCASTLE
He makes a face – this isn’t the one people buy for the articles. Portman snatches it from him and thumbs to the middle page, peeking inside the fold. There’s a beat and then she raises her face to look at Hardcastle and McCormick and gives a sharp little nod.
HARDCASTLE
August, 1982. You turned 18 that year?
PORTMAN
HARDCASTLE
The shoot would have been at least a few weeks
before publication, maybe more. Do you remember
anything strange happening back then?
PORTMAN
(pause, she’s frowning, thinking about it, and then)
Okay, maybe one thing. I think it was that year.
Yeah – it was right before I started college. I was at a
concert. A guy came up to me. It was as though he knew me.
He came on really strong, and acted like I shouldn’t
(beat – looks down at the magazine)
Oh my God. He must’ve seen this.
McCORMICK
HARDCASTLE
Yeah, a lot of centerfolds through the presses since then.
Why now? And does the guy even have more than
PORTMAN
I don’t know, but if he does have another, and starts
She’s clutching the closed magazine.
HARDCASTLE
(to Gus, indicating the magazine)
GUS
For the little lady? It’s on the house.
Can I have your autograph?
Off that we,
CUT TO:
EXT. GMC TRUCK – DRIVE-BY – DAY
INT. GMC TRUCK – MOVING – DAY
Mark is driving. Hardcastle on the passenger side, back to studying the masthead page. Portman is between them, looking concerned.
HARDCASTLE
It’s an outfit called “Moonglow Publishing”.
They’ve got a L.A. address.
Think they’re still in business? Odds are it
was a freelance job, but they’re supposed to
keep records on their photographers.
McCORMICK
EXT. AN AREA ZONED FOR BUSINESS - DAY
It’s a rundown district of warehouses and older companies. Hardcastle’s truck is at the curb. A sign on the building behind it says “Moonglow Publishers”.
INT. THE TRUCK – PARKED – DAY
HARDCASTLE
I think I’ll have better luck tackling these
guys if you stay out here.
We don’t wanna spook ‘em.
Portman gives the seedy building another glance, then nods, looking somewhat relieved.
McCORMICK
HARDCASTLE
Hardcastle opens the passenger door and exits. Portman remains in the middle for a half-beat, then seems to realize where she is and shifts over. It’s awkward. She covers it with another glance in the direction Hardcastle headed.
McCORMICK
Don’t worry. He’s good at this stuff.
PORTMAN
(turns back toward him, looking
I think I might have been a little out of
line when I said he was crazy.
McCORMICK
(sharp laugh and then he shakes his head)
Nah, he’s crazy. But he’s still good at
How ‘bout the guy with the flashy car who did some
time in prison – think you were wrong about him, too?
PORTMAN
You gotta admit the car’s pretty flashy.
Yeah, guess I was a kinda quick to buy the rumors.
McCORMICK
That’s one down and 148 to go.
PORTMAN
McCORMICK
The class of ’89. Our colleagues.
Actually, I just need to win over enough to
put together a study group,
especially if I’m gonna be missing lectures.
PORTMAN
(sighs and looks around, bemused)
If somebody had told me this morning that I was going
to be going after some porn publishers this afternoon
McCORMICK
‘Going after’? Hah, we haven’t even gotten to the
going after part yet. This is just reconnaissance so far.
(glances out in the direction of the building – then
He looked kinda excited though, didn’t he?
Portman shrugs lightly.
McCORMICK
(beat – and now very sure)
PORTMAN
McCORMICK
PORTMAN
I thought he was just a retired judge.
McCORMICK
No, trust me, things would have to get a whole lot
weirder than this today to even qualify for business as
Portman gives him a puzzled look and off this we,
CUT TO:
INT. MOONGLOW PUBLISHING – DAY
An upper floor hallway, surprisingly well lighted. Hardcastle has worked his way up to a door marked: J.T. HALLER, PUBLISHER. He knocks and enters.
INT. RECEPTIONIST”S OFFICE – DAY
It’s not what we were expecting from the outside of the building. This has obviously been revamped and remodeled within the last few years. There’s gold in them thar hills. The receptionist is all business, right down to her sensible length French tips.
RECEPTIONIST
HARDCASTLE
I sure hope so, Missy. The names Hardacre,
Jack Hardcacre. I’m with ‘Images, Inc.’ You
know, the body-double service?
We match all the big names, millimeter for
The receptionist is looking at him in disbelief, but he’s a force to be reckoned with and he knows what he wants. He’s got the magazine out and is thumbing it open to show it to her.
HARDCASTLE
This girl, I ran across her in a back issue.
(checks the page himself briefly)
She’s Miss Midnight Rendezvous, August ’82.
I’m thinking she’s a dead ringer for Kelly LeBrock,
from the neck down, anyway, which is what we’re
He’s got the receptionist looking at least.
RECEPTIONIST
HARDCASTLE
All I need is the name of the guy who did the shoot.
This could be a helluva opportunity for your Miss
August. She could get some real exposure.
Perhaps not the ideal choice of words, but his tone is perfect. The receptionist only hesitates for a moment.
RECEPTIONIST
(swivels her chair to face a file cabinet)
August, ’82, After Midnight, right?
HARDCASTLE
That’s the one, sweetheart.
The receptionist bends and pulls open one of the lower drawers, riffling through the tops of the files and pouncing on one.
RECEPTIONIST
She swivels back toward her desk, paging through the file as she turns, and extracting a letter-sized piece of paper. Hardcastle leans forward eagerly, but still in character.
RECEPTIONIST
(puts the file on her desk, the single paper
Of course I’ll have to run this by Mr.Haller. You won’t –
The door from the hallway opens and man walks in. He’s J.T. HALLER – expensive suit, but no tie. More tan than you’d expect from the editor of After Midnight. His shirt collar is unbuttoned enough to show that he’s sporting some serious bling. He pauses, finding a stranger in his office. The receptionist catches his expression and hastens to explain.
RECEPTIONIST
Oh, Mr. Haller, this is Mr. Hardcacre –
(she puts the paper down on the file as she
from Images, Inc., the scouting agency. He’s interested in one of the girls.
Haller doesn’t look pleased. He crosses behind the desk and glances down at the file. He appears suddenly even less pleased but quickly covers that.
HALLER
I’m sorry – company policy. All that information
The receptionist looks puzzled but knows enough to keep her mouth shut. She gathers up the file, stuffs the paper back in, and turns to put it back in the drawer.
HALLER
Anyway, I don’t think that particular girl is
You know how it is – they come and they go.
HARDCASTLE
That’s too bad, she would’ve made a great
(turns to leave – casts one more look over his
shoulder as he reaches the door)
You sure – just the photographer’s name? He could maybe
HALLER
Hardcastle nods once and departs.
ANGLE – HALLER AT THE RECEPTIONIST'S DESK
He’s not a happy man.
CUT TO:
INT. THE TRUCK
Portman looks a lot more relaxed. This is mid-conversation.
McCORMICK
So you’re working and taking a full load at
PORTMAN
I know. They said it couldn’t be done. But the work’s not
even half-time – a couple shifts a week - it helps
me keep up with the bills.
I think that’s why that story about you and
I was just mad because somebody else was getting
McCORMICK
Well, that part’s the closest to the truth –
Hardcastle appears at the passenger-side window and starts to open the door. Portman jumps slightly, then scoots to the middle to make room for him.
HARDCASTLE
Not interrupting anything, am I?
Portman shakes her head earnestly.
McCORMICK
HARDCASTLE
Kinda interesting. Somebody’s not happy about
McCORMICK
HARDCASTLE
(he opens the glove compartment
and takes out a pad and pen, scribbling
The guy in charge there didn’t want me to have this
but I can still read the fine print from a contract upside- down from half-way across the room.
It’s one of those things they don’t teach ya in law
Mark grins and casts a look at what Hardcastle has written.
McCORMICK
PORTMAN
McCORMICK
(turns ignition and puts the truck in gear)
Let’s go see a man about a photo shoot.
EXT. THE TRUCK PULLING AWAY
It heads down the street and on that we,
CUT TO:
EXT. WEST HOLLYWOOD – DAY
It’s a place where star-stuck recent émigrés from the Midwest must be pretty thick on the ground. HARDCASTLE, McCORMICK, and PORTMAN are standing on the sidewalk looking up. A second-floor window sign reads: “Models Wanted”. Hardcastle casts a dubious glance at the other two before they head in through the door to the stairs.
INT. A HALLWAY - DAY
Not as nice as the one at Moonglow Publishers, but not a total dump. There’s a door with signage that says: “Photos by Vincent”. Hardcastle knocks and,
D’SOUSA (V.O.)
Hardcastle turns the knob.
INT. A PHOTO STUDIO - DAY
Nothing fancy, but the light is good. VINCENT D’SOUSA is hunched over a work table, studying a picture through a stand magnifier. He looks up, disappointed with his first impressions as Hardcastle walks in. D’Sousa is bored, not concerned. PORTMAN steps in next. D’Sousa brightens a little, but he’s obviously puzzled.
D’SOUSA
The travel agent’s down the hall.
HARDCASTLE
Actually, we’re here to see you.
D’SOUSA
What can I help you with?
(glances at McCormick and Portman)
HARDCASTLE
Nah—something from a couple years back.
(he produces the magazine)
Some work you sold to the nice folks over at Moonglow.
D’SOUSA
HARDCASTLE
(he holds magazine open, facing D’Sousea)
D’SOUSA
(sighs, resigned, there’s no use denying it)
(he’s triangulating between photos and Andrea)
HARDCASTLE
The name’s Milt Hardcastle.
There’s a beat of nervous silence and then:
D’SOUSA
Milt Hardcastle the judge?
HARDCASTLE
Retired. But I still keep a hand in.
There’s a sudden and total attitude change from D’Sousa. He’s nervous, maybe a little obsequious.
D’SOUSA
(referring to the photos in the magazine)
Nice angles. A lot of artistic merit, don’tcha think?
HARDCASTLE
That’s a matter of opinion, what I’m really
interested in is the paperwork.
D’SOUSA
(he crosses to a file cabinet, talking nervously
We’re in complete compliance on that. Wouldn’t want a 311.4, now would we?
HARDCASTLE
(with a smile that implies he wouldn’t
mind catching this guy with a few ‘t’s not
D’Sousa pulls out a sheaf of papers and thumbs through them hastily. He looks relieved to track down what he was looking for and pulls it out with a flourish. Two sheets clipped together. He hands it over to Hardcastle, flipped open to the second sheet.
INSERT: STATE OF CALIFORNIA BIRTH CERTIFICATE
It has a fancy border and centered inside that is the photostat of a mid-60’s-era birth certificate. We only have time to read the name: Angela Pinder. The whole thing is stamped ‘For informational purposes only, not for identification’ and it’s been heavily redacted, with only the name, county, and birthdate remaining.
ANGLE - PORTMAN
She leans over to get a look, and then stares at it with a look of bewilderment.
ANGLE – PULL BACK
Hardcastle flips the top page down.
INSERT: A PHOTO RELEASE CONTRACT
There’s lots of fine print, but the signature on the bottom line is clear. It reads: ‘Angela Pinder”
ANGLE HARDCASTLE, PORTER, AND D’SOUSA
Hardcastle hands the papers back to D’Sousa while Portman stands there, looking bewildered.
HARDCASTLE
Looks like you’ve got all your ‘i’s dotted here.
D’Sousa takes the papers and relaxes slightly and casts a quick glance at Andrea before addressing the judge again.
D’SOUSA
Don’t know what the young lady’s been telling
you, but I’ve always run a clean business. No reason
not to. I’ve got ‘em lined up out the door every time
I advertise auditions. Everybody wants to be a star.
HARDCASTLE
D’Sousa shrugs and stuffs the papers back in the file.
D’SOUSA
(he gestures to the photos on the work table and
Hardcastle takes the hint. He, McCormick and Portman head for the door. Hardcastle lets
the other two precede him out. He stands, holding the knob, and turns back.
HARDCASTLE
You keep dottin’ those ‘i’s, Vinnie. You never
know who’s gonna wanna check your penman-
Hardcastle exits
ANGLE - D’SOUSA
As soon as we hear the door close D’Sousa grabs for the phone. All pretense of relaxation shot to hell, he punches the number in.
D’SOUSA
(beat, with the receiver to his ear, then, with
no introduction, he shouts)
What the hell you’d think you’re doing, siccing
INTERCUT WITH HALLER’S OFFICE
HALLER
That Hardacre guy? How the hell did he find you?
Listen, he just thought he had some kinda hot prospect.
I ran him off. Told him she wasn’t in the business
D’SOUSA
The hell he did. That was Hardcastle,
as in “The Hardcastle Ruling” – capisce? And I
thought you told me you got rid of that girl.
HALLER
I did. Gone. Had to. She was a mess when
D’SOUSA
Well, she ain’t a mess no more.
HALLER
D’SOUSA
She was here. In my studio, with Hardcase. She didn’t
say nothin’ to me. I dunno what she’s been telling him.
HALLER
Huh-uh. No way. She was dead. We dumped her
D’SOUSA
Well she musta swum back. It was her. I oughta know;
I spent a lot of time looking at her cleavage.
I don’t know what you’re gonna tell your buddy Kayts, but
there better not be any more strings leading back to me.
I’m just the talent scout.
End on Haller, hanging up his receiver as well. He looks pensive for a moment and then picks it up and dials again.
HALLER
Yeah, this is Haller, I need some info. Nothing fancy.
What I want is everything you got on a judge named
Hold for a moment and,
CUT TO BLACK
END OF ACT II
