The Interview

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Detective Peeters is sitting in his office, smoking a cigarette. His sleeves are rolled up and a cigarette dangles out of his mouth. Detective Rousseau steps into the room.

Rousseau: “She’s here.”

Peeters stands up and grabs his jacket. He puts it on and grinds his cigarette out into an ashtray.

Peeters: “Send her in.”

Rousseau steps out of the room and a moment later he escorts Helen Iadipaola into the room. Rousseau exits and closes the door. Peeters gestures to a chair and the blonde takes a seat. She crosses her legs slowly, the slit in her dress revealing her knees. Taking out a lipstick tube and a small mirror, she puts some lipstick on. Peeters pretends not to notice.

Helen: “You wanted to talk to me.”

Peeters steps around his desk and takes a seat on the edge.

Peeters: “Did you know Christian Ghent?”

Helen: “Who?”

Peeters: “The recently deceased.”

Helen: “You could have asked me that yesterday at the hotel.”

Peeters takes out a package of cigarettes. He offers one to the blonde. She takes it. He produces a lighter from his pocket and leaning over lights her cigarette.

Peeters: “You looked uncomfortable yesterday.”

She draws on the cigarette and stares back at Peeters whose face is only inches away from her own. The smoke slips sensuously out of her mouth.

Helen: “No. Why do you ask?”

Peeters: “A maid saw Ghent with a blonde just before he died.”

Helen: “And she identified me?”

Peeters draws back. He shakes his head.

Peeters: “Why are you hanging out with Schmidt?”

Helen: “He’s got money. And he spends it. On me.”

Peeters lights up his own cigarette.

Peeters: “Singing doesn’t pay?”

Helen: “Not enough.”

Peeters: “What’s enough?”

Helen smirks: “More than a cop can afford.”

Peeters steps back behind his desk and sits down in his chair.

Peeters: “I’ve seen babes like you before.”

Helen: “Sure you have.”

Peeters: “You’re going to need my help, Miss Iadipaola. Call me.”

Helen: “Is that it?”

Peeters: “That’s it.”

Helen stands up and turns toward the door. She turns back to Peeters who remains in his chair.

Helen: “Aren’t you going to show a lady the door?”

Peeters points to the door.

Peeters: “It’s over there.”

Helen smirks: “You don't much like women, do you Detective?”