INT. THE MURDERER’S BEDROOM, BILOXI BOQ—DAY

Nina’s dress is in the window.  A black dress.  And her shoes.  High heels.  They are aligned perfectly.  The window open.  OLSON is on the scene.  Along with STARKS.   There on a tip.  Cameras flashing.  Other police officials—MP’S—and reporters moving about.  Different aspects of the room.  A bookcase with only one book on it.  A corner of clothes.  The bathroom light on.  A closet door ajar…  And the hanging body.  From a ceiling fan.  Still going.  Situated at the foot of the bed—made.

STARKS

(looking up with his notepad)

          No telling…  A Russian agent?

OLSON

(over by the bookcase, setting the book down)

According to the passport and documents—an attaché from the Stalin ministry, an officer under a Nikolai Yezhov of the Soviet Secret Police, NKVD in 1938, and assigned as a junior advisor to the State Department 1940…  the question is—what’s he doing in Mississippi?  Involved in the death of a decorated Army Colonel’s daughter?  An officer also Russian. 

STARKS

          Is that really a guitar string?

OLSON

          Yeah…  looks like it nearly cut his neck in two.

STARKS

(looking at a chair knocked over)

          It’s a hell of a way to go…  Must have felt like  falling… 

          Think he did it?

OLSON

         Shit!

A squirrel is in the windowsill.  Crouched by one of Nina’s high heels.  Olson goes to shoo it away.  It merely jumps to the nearby branch of a tree outside.

STARKS

I find the format all wrong.  Something doesn’t smell right.  Whatta you think? 

OLSON

Hey…  it’s above my pay grade…  the cuts and abrasions on his hands and neck say that he struggled.  But suicide?  No note.  And no sign of a struggle in the room…  Sounds like I should just agree…  Don’t you think?

STARKS

I just write the story.  Funny how it all comes out in the details.  That’s the trick—you know.  You know the trick.  When you’re listening pretend like you aren’t.  And would you should listen pretend like you did. 

OLSON

Well… it’s a military matter.  It’s going to the IG…  Did you hear about the two boys they picked up the night of the murder?  Apparently one of them was the daughter’s sweetheart.  The other some guitar player.  On furlough.  Here to be a pilot I hear.  Popovitch has got them locked up.  Some accident on the road…

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