Echo.
ECHO
Climber.
(as he turns on the motor)
CUT TO
ECHO, waving after them.
CUT TO
THE KIDS in the backseat, kneeling, looking at her, waving back.
CUT TO
Inside the car. Dead silence. THE KIDS stare out the back as ECHO gets smaller and smaller.
CLIMBER drives through the enormous estate.
A TURN now. ECHO disappears.
THE KIDS sit in the back.
Still the silence.
CLIMBER
(an odd thing to say)
Not yet.
(THE KIDS look at him)
Gardeners.
(THE KIDS nod)
CUT TO
THE CAR, driving toward the giant entrance gates, passing several gardeners, who wave to the children, who wave back.
CUT TO
THE GIANT GATES as the car passes through, hits the main road, and the instant that happens--
CUT TO
INSIDE THE CAR.
CLIMBER (CONT’D)
Safe.
(and on that, the KIDS peel into the front seat, grab for him)
Hey, Loves.
THE KIDS (TOGETHER)
(as they embrace their father)
Hey, Climber.
(and on that)
CUT TO
THE CAR, roaring through the gorgeous morning toward the most magical city of all. HOLD on the three, all crammed together in the front seat.
CUT TO
LINCOLN CENTER, early afternoon. Crowds waiting for the ballet and the Philharmonic and the opera and the theater and all the other stuff.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER, driving slowly along the inner road where cabs drop people off. He stops the car, gets out.
THE KIDS stay in the car, watching him.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER hurrying to a guy. ANOTHER FATHER. He has his two kids with him, boy and a girl, same age as SHIRLEY AND PHOEBE. Look a lot alike. CLIMBER hands over the Bartok tickets. THE OTHER FATHER is just thrilled. So are the kids. The little girl curtseys, the boy gives CLIMBER a firm handshake. That’s it.
CUT TO
SHIRLEY AND PHOEBE as CLIMBER gets back in the car, starting to drive.
SHIRLEY
He’s divorced too, isn’t he?
CLIMBER
(a sweeping gesture, taking in the crowds)
Shirley, my beloved--every human being within view is happily divorced. If you saw this morning’s Times you must have noted the headline that said it is now illegal in Manhattan to rent an apartment to anyone who still claims to be married.
PHOEBE
Why do you always give them our tickets, I wonder?
(CLIMBER says nothing)
It should be noted here that when PHOEBE phrases a question in this way, she is not necessarily looking for the answer.
PHOEBE (CONT’D)
Is it because they look like us, I wonder?
(beat--she looks at CLIMBER now)
Mommy would never have us followed.
CLIMBER
I know--it’s her asshole fiancé I’m worried about.
PHOEBE
Language!
(beat--softly)
He is an asshole, isn’t he?
CLIMBER
(arm around her tight)
That’s my girl.
(Now from that--)
CUT TO
OUTSIDE A PACKED VILLAGE COFFEEHOUSE. In a far corner on the sidewalk, CLIMBER AND SHIRLEY. CLIMBER silently sips his coffee, pays no attention to his son. SHIRLEY doodles away at a large sketch pad, pays no attention to his father.
Now here comes JIMMY around the corner. We haven’t seen him since the wedding-day photo. The intervening years have been hard. He looks old, needs a cane.
He kisses his grandchild on the top of the head, sits next to CLIMBER.
JIMMY
The reason I was called away from Derek Jeter is …?
CLIMBER
I think they’re ready.
JIMMY
(he doesn’t)
You weren’t till you were fifteen.
(to the boy)
Let’s have the pad, Shirl.
(SHIRLEY hands it over)
CUT TO
JIMMY looking at the top page. It’s a very clean drawing of a middle-aged man we’ve never seem before. JIMMY looks at SHIRLEY questioningly: he nod across the street and we
CUT TO
ANOTHER COFFEEHOUSE. Really packed. Half a dozen tables outside.
CUT TO
A MAN sitting by himself at the other coffeehouse. Kind of a vague resemblance to SHIRLEY’S drawing.
CUT TO
JIMMY. He takes some little opera glasses out of his pocket, looks at nothing much for a moment, then casually trains them on the man across the street.
CUT TO
THE MAN ACROSS THE STREET. Coming into focus.
He looks exactly like SHIRLEY’S notebook sketch.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER’S TABLE. SHIRLEY is holding his breath. So is CLIMBER.
JIMMY
(pleased, but you can’t tell)
How long have you been here?
CLIMBER
Twenty minutes.
JIMMY
(nope-- to SHIRLEY)
It’s promising work, Shirl.
SHIRLEY
What’s wrong with it?
JIMMY
(carefully--he loves the kid but the kid’s sensitive)
Nothing, not a thing, but if we need a sketch guy--if we’re somewhere, say, where it’s not safe to trot out a camera, well, it’s gotta be quick, bam, gone. Work on your speed, kid.
(starts to hand the pad back)
SHIRLEY
Grandpa, Grandpa--please--
(very soft)
--turn the page.
(JIMMY shrugs, flips the page and we)
CUT TO
SHIRLEY’s SKETCHBOOK. It’s another exact drawing, this one of the couple in the next table across the street.
JIMMY give the kid a glance, turns again--
CUT TO
THE SKETCH PAD. Yet another perfectly accurate drawing of the third table.
JIMMY gives the kid another glance, a beat longer, then as the page is turned a final time--
CUT TO
THE LAST DRAWING. A VERY THIN WOMAN IN HUGE DARK GLASSES. Fighting back tears. A VERY RICH MAN sits alongside. Clearly embarrassed.
One other thing about this sketch--not only are they accurately depicted, the clock high on the wall is included--2:25.
JIMMY
(holding it in-- to CLIMBER)
Jesus--he put the clock in.
CLIMBER
I told you he was ready.
JIMMY
(making sure)
All since you sat down?
SHIRLEY
Grandpa?
(and he hands over another piece of paper. This from a small notepad he holds in his hands.)
CUT TO
THE DRAWING. It’s of JIMMY in the clothes he’s wearing. Obviously whipped off since the old man sat down.
SHIRLEY (CONT’D)
I’ve been working on my speed.
CUT TO
JIMMY. Just thrilled, but he would rather die than show it.
JIMMY
Like I said, promising.
(looking around)
Where’s Phoebes?
(no answer)
Oh, I get it, come out, come out…
(he looks round the coffeehouse. Nothing. Now he looks across at the other one.)
CUT TO
Same old shot we’ve seen. The people SHIRLEY sketched, including the CRYING SKINNY WOMAN AND THE RICH EMBARRASSED MAN and the ragamuffin playing in the gutter near their table and
--hmmm--
CUT TO
JIMMY, looking at the sketch pad of the couple and sure enough, at the very bottom of th
e drawing, there’s the ragamuffin. She’s small, smudged face, tattered clothes.
Now JIMMY gets out his opera glasses again, focuses them and
CUT TO
PHOEBE, sitting quietly, playing in the gutter.
CUT TO
CLIMBER AND HIS DAD AND HIS SON, watching.
JIMMY
She’s seven!
CLIMBER
She’s got genius inside her, Pop.
JIMMY
Besides the memory, what else?
CLIMBER
She can go anyplace, follow anybody--
JIMMY
Get a grip--we can follow anybody--
SHIRLEY
--she’s not afraid, Grandpa--
JIMMY
(final)
--seven is seven, kid, end of report.
(and on that)
CUT TO
JIMMY. CLOSE UP. And suddenly the old man is stunned.
CUT TO
THE OTHER COFFEE SHOP. THE THIN WOMAN AND THE EMBARRASSED MAN pay, rise, start walking away--
--PHOEBE is walking away, too--ahead of them--
CUT TO
JIMMY, dazed.
JIMMY
She’s pulling … a front tail.
CLIMBER
(a little shocked himself)
I … never showed her--
JIMMY
--I know you didn’t, you can’t do it--
CUT TO
THE COUPLE, walking along, talking intently about whatever, while just in front of him, totally ignored, this kid moves quietly.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER’S TABLE.
JIMMY
(shakes his head)
--OK, it’s a risk, but they’re ready.
CLIMBER puts two fingers in his mouth, a loud and very distinctive whistle--on the sound--
CUT TO
PHOEBE, turning with a pained “Now--you want me now?” look on her face.
Again the whistling sound. She stops, lets the couple go on past her alone, glances both ways, then dashes across the street to her family as we
CUT TO
A DOWNTOWN KOSHER DELI. A LARGE REAR TABLE--
--stuffed with food. Corned beef and pastrami and potato pancakes and salami and chopped liver and turkey and pickles and kraut and schmaltz and seltzer bottles and a couple of beers.
THE CLIMBER AND THE KIDS AND JIMMY sit hunched over, scarfing down. Throughout this, they never stop eating.
SHIRLEY
Want us to bring anything special?
CLIMBER
For?
PHOEBE
For our first case, Daddy. Speaking for Shirley, may I say we could not be more excited.
CLIMBER
Where’d the “may I say” come from?
SHIRLEY
Trip likes it.
JIMMY
Trip?
(SHIRLEY mouths the word “asshole”--PHOEBE mouths the word “language.”)
The new guy, got it.
SHIRLEY
(to JIMMY)
When will you know what it’s going to be?
JIMMY
We were not at that coffeehouse by accident, Shirl.
(THE KIDS look at him)
Remember the crying woman with the sunglasses?
(THEY do)
Her husband hired us.
SHIRLEY
(excited)
Phoebes, we’re already detectives.
CUT TO
PHOEBE as she lifts her seltzer bottle into toasting position.
PHOEBE
To the Big A.
SHIRLEY raises his bottle, too. JIMMY AND THE CLIMBER just watch. They put the bottles down.
JIMMY
This ain’t the Big A. It’s just a case--big A’s don’t come along all that often. I only had a couple my whole life.
PHOEBE
But couldn’t it be?
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER. CLOSE UP. Watching his beloveds.
CLIMBER
Life’s got to be on the line, Phoebes. Love’s gotta be there, too. You just know when you’re on the Big Adventure, that if you survive it, nothing’s ever going to be the same…
CUT TO
THE KIDS stop eating. Stare at their dad. Then--
SHIRLEY
How many have you had, Daddy?
CLIMBER
(beat)
Just the one…
(HOLD on the CLIMBER for a moment, then--)
CUT TO
CLIMBER’S PLACE. Night.
Pretty much the same. Still clean, still all the big TV sets.
The main change in decor is that the living room has been turned into two makeshift bedrooms. A sheet hangs from a sagging curtain as a room divider. PHOEBE’S half has dolls piled on the bed, that’s about it.
Bedtime. Both kids are in the sack, the blanket hasn’t been lowered. CLIMBER is finishing telling them a story.
CLIMBER
(with more emotion than you would expect)
“And as he stared at the bloody face of his murdered partner, Sam Spade knew he could not rest until the score was even.”
SHIRLEY
Have you ever had a partner murdered, Poppa?
CLIMBER
Only had my dad.
SHIRLEY
But if you did have one, and he was killed, you couldn’t rest till the score was even, could you?
CLIMBER
(tucking him in)
I’d track the bastard down.
PHOEBE
I don’t like saying “language,” you know.
CLIMBER
My apology.
He lowers the curtain between their beds. SHIRLEY is half asleep already. Now CLIMBER goes to PHOEBE, brings her a bunch of books to read, tilts her bed lamp away from her brother, tucks her in, too. They whisper “Night” and he leaves her.
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER in the little hallway now, watching her.
Troubled.
Then he goes to his little room, slaps in a tape of a Knicks game, hits the mute button and as Sprewell explodes down the court--
CUT TO
THE APARTMENT. Middle of the night. CLIMBER jerks awake, rubs his eyes, get out of bed.
CUT TO
THE OTHER BEDROOM. As before. SHIRLEY is dead to the world, PHOEBE reads. Now she looks up as her father comes in. He sits on the bed and they whisper.
CLIMBER
Phoebes, you’ve gotta sleep sometime.
(he puts the book down, turns out her light)
It’s the one thing we worry about most.
PHOEBE
Who?
CLIMBER
You know who.
PHOEBE
I wonder, how did you and Mommy meet?
(THE CLIMBER says nothing)
I’ve always wondered why you never told me.
(he sighs)
Did someone think you’d like each other and you had bologna sandwiches?
CLIMBER
(here we go)
It was on a case.
PHOEBE
Did you solve it?
CLIMBER
It worked out.
PHOEBE
You probably don’t remember the very very first time you ever saw her.
CLIMBER hesitates. He doesn’t like going back to these great days. But here’s his problem, Doctor: it’s the only way she’ll go to sleep.
CLIMBER
Actually, I do.
FLASHCUT
The moment when he takes the blindfold off ECHO and he sees her perfect face.
BACK TO THE ROOM
PHOEBE
I wonder was she in a ball gown or something that first time?
CLIMBER
Exactly right--a beautiful ball gown. Huge billowing skirt. I was in my tux--
PHOEBE
(staring at him)
You dove through that window in a tuxedo and a ball gown?--I don’t think so.
FLASHCUT
THE JUMP OUT THE WINDOW--only this is in PHOEBE’S mind--CLIMBER, looking magnificent, and ECHO, the same--all but dancing in slow motion toward the window as TWENTY BAD GUYS with machine guns and bazookas blast away in vain.
BACK TO THE ROOM.
CLIMBER
You want the whole deal, don’t you?
(she does)
Close your eyes.
(she does)
Deep breath.
(that too--just a glimmer of sleep now)
PHOEBE
(softer)
Start with climbing up the building.
CLIMBER
Okay.
PHOEBE
(softer)
That was very brave of you, Daddy.
CLIMBER
Or very stupid.
PHOEBE
(almost gone now)
This was the Big A, wasn’t it?
CUT TO
THE CLIMBER, studying her Edward G. Robinson face.
She’s drifting.
He nods.
HOLD.
CUT TO
A LONG ISLAND COUNTRY LANE. The next afternoon. CLIMBER’S car, motor running, is at the side of the road. He holds his children tightly. They hold him back.
CLIMBER
Okay, Loves.
(they hold him just a second longer, then flop over into the backseat)
Put your rich faces on.
CUT TO
SHIRLEY AND PHOEBE as they change before our eyes, become the spoiled perfect kids we first saw in the mansion.
CLIMBER (CONT’D)
Gimme the damn Bartok.
(as SHIRLEY slips a CD from its case--)
CUT TO
ECHO, standing on the front steps as CLIMBER’S car drives up, stops, waving. The kids, inside the car, wave happily back. Standing alongside ECHO is her fiancé, a very handsome, tanned man of forty--HAMILTON KEMPNER THE THIRD, universally known as TRIP. A well-educated rich man’s son, if he seems familiar to us at all it might be because, in the photographs we saw during the credit sequence, this is the guy THE CLIMBER punched out.
CUT TO
THE CAR and the instant it stops, the kids are out of there, hurrying to ECHO. They talk quickly, whispered tones.
SHIRLEY
(he holds the wicker basket, which is empty now)
Oh, Mommy, it seems like forever, do thank cook for the wondrous food.
PHOEBE
Mommy, I just know I’m going to be sick next Friday.
ECHO
How was the Bartok?
SHIRLEY
No other word but “thrilling.”
PHOEBE
And we made “him” play it all the way home.
ECHO
Your father hated it, then?
SHIRLEY
Sheer agony.
ECHO
(cannot hide her pleasure)
Well, now you’re learning what I had to put up with.
SHIRLEY
Can we go inside?
ECHO
Don’t you want to say hello to Trip?
CUT TO
Which Lie Did I Tell? Page 34