DAVEY HOPEWELL bawling for help. His basketball, which came to rest against the porch rail, rolls across the
boards slowly at first, then gathering speed to the front door. It bounces up over the doorstoop and inside.
43 INTERIOR: MARTHA'S HALL, LOOKING BACK TOWARD THE PORCH.
In the background is MARTHA'S body, just a dark lump of shadow. DAVEY'S basketball bounces past it, leaving great big smacks of blood every time in lands.
WEATHER LADY
Another piece of advice? Make sure you've got plenty of Smile-Boy all-beef bologna on hand. When the weather turns nasty, nothing warms you up ...
CHAPTER 4
44INTERIOR: THE LIVING ROOM, WITH LINOGE.
The ball rolls across the floor, weaving between the furniture. When it reaches MARTHA'S chair, where LINOGE now sits, it bounces itself twice, gaining altitude. On the third bounce, it lands in his lap. He picks it up.
WEATHER LADY
(holds sandwich)
. . . like a good old fried bologna sandwich! Especially if the bologna is Smile-Boy all-beef bologna!
LINOGE He shoots . . .
He throws the ball with SUPERHUMAN FORCE at the TV. It hits the screen dead center, sending the WEATHER LADY, her sandwich, and her two enormous storm systems into electronic limbo. Sparks fly.
LINOGE ... he scores!
45 EXTERIOR: ATLANTIC STREET, WITH DAVEY.
He's still running down the center of the street, still screaming at the top of his lungs.
DAVEY
Mrs. Clarendon! Someone killed Mrs. Clarendon! There's blood all over! One of her eyes is out! It's on her cheek! Oh, God, one of her eyeballs is right out on her cheek!
People are coming to windows and opening front doors to look. They all know DAVEY, of course, but before anyone can grab him and calm him down, a big green Lincoln pulls in front of him, like a cop cutting off a speeder. Written on the side is ISLAND-ATLANTIC REALTY. A portly gentleman in a suit, tie, and topcoat (the only business garb on Little Tall Island, quite likely) gets out. We may or may not see a resemblance to the absurd mannequin on the store's porch. This is ROBBIE BEALS, the local big deal, the unpleasant DON BEALS'S even more unpleasant father. Now he grabs DAVEY by the shoulders of his jacket and gives him a hard shake.
ROBBIE
Davey! Stop it! Stop that right now!
DAVEY stops it and begins to get himself under control.
ROBBIE
Why are you running down the middle of Atlantic Street, making a spectacle of yourself?
DAVEY Someone killed Mrs. Clarendon.
ROBBIE
Nonsense, what are you talking about?
DAVEY
There's blood everywhere. And her eye's out. It's . . . it's on her cheek.
DAVEY begins to weep. Other people are gathering now, looking at the man and the boy. Slowly, ROBBIE releases DAVEY. Something is going on here, something that may be serious, and if so, there's only one man to check it out. We see this realization dawning on ROBBIE'S face.
He looks around at a middle-aged woman with a sweater hastily pulled around her shoulders and a bowl of cake batter still in one hand.
ROBBIE
Mrs. Kingsbury. Look after him. Get him a hot tea . . .
(reconsiders) No, give him a little whiskey, if you've got some.
MRS. KINGSBURY Are you going to call Mike Anderson?
ROBBIE looks sour. There's no love lost between him and MIKE.
ROBBIE
Not until I take a look for myself.
DAVEY
Be careful, Mr. Beals. She's dead . . . but there's someone in the house, I think . . .
ROBBIE looks at him impatiently. The boy is clearly hysterical. An old man with a craggy New England face steps forward.
GEORGE KIRBY
You want help, Robbie Beals?
ROBBIE Not necessary, George. I'll be fine.
He gets back into his car. It's too big to U-turn in the street, so he uses a neighboring driveway.
DAVEY He shouldn't go up there alone.
The group in the street (which is still growing) watches ROBBIE drive up to MRS. CLARENDON'S with troubled eyes.
MRS. KINGSBURY
Come on inside, Davey. I'm not giving whiskey to a child, but I can put the teapot on.
She puts an arm around him and leads him toward the house.
46 EXTERIOR: MARTHA CLARENDON'S HOUSE.
ROBBIE'S Lincoln pulls up in front. He gets out. Surveys the path, the overturned walker, the open door. His face suggests that this might be a little more serious than he at first thought. But he starts up the path, anyway. Leave it to that know-all MIKE ANDERSON? Not likely!
47 EXTERIOR: LITTLE TALL ISLAND TOWN HALL DAY.
This is a white wooden building, stark in the New England style, and the center of the town's public life. In front of it is a little cupola with a largish