Show Business Is Murder (19 page)

{Kagen and Monk walk away from Renschel's office building and toward the latter's fully restored cobalt blue '64 Ford Galaxie parked at a meter.}

KAGEN:
This Odeh I gather is a leader in the Arab Community?

MONK:
Yeah, he's considered a moderate, particularly compared to your boy.

{Monk hooks a thumb in the direction of the AJA office.}

KAGEN:
So why do we need to talk to him?

MONK:
It's pretty fascinating what you can find on-line added to some old-fashioned working the phones, Walsh. One of the service organizations Odeh sat on the board of was caught up in the Justice Department net around the hawala method of money laundering to the Al Qaeda.
{Monk unlocks the car and the two get in.}

INT. '64 FORD GALAXIE

{Monk cranks the car to life and pulls away from the curb.}

KAGEN:
So this charity was a front that skimmed off money to the terrorist network?

MONK:
That seems to be unclear. But the point is that Odeh was tainted and did some back-peddling. He proclaimed he knew nothing of money transferring, etcetera. He wasn't arrested, but I bet he's been under watch.

KAGEN:
But he could be jiving, and he really was part of some scheme to move funds.

MONK:
Something like that.

KAGEN:
You gonna be more objective this time?

{Monk lets some silence drag.}

MONK:
You're right, Walsh, I was being unprofessional. I'll be on point.

{Kagen winks at him.}

EXT. '64 FORD GALAXIE: DAY

The car zooms along.

EXT. MASJID AL-FALAH ISLAMIC CENTER,
INGLEWOOD: DAY

{Monk and Kagen walk up the steps of the Center and stop at a locked door where there's an intercom.}

CU

{intercom as Monk bends to it and pushes the button to speak.}

MONK (into intercom):
Hi, I'm Ivan Monk with Walsh Kagen to see Jabari Hatoom. I had an appointment.

WIDEN

{Monk lets go of the button and the door BUZZES. Kagen opens the door.}

INT. MASJID AL-FALAH ISLAMIC CENTER—
CONTINUOUS

{Monk and Kagen stand in a foyer. A twentysomething east Indian woman, SUNAR, in her hijab—head covered, long dress—comes out to greet them. As is the custom, she does not offer her hand.}

SUNAR:
Gentlemen, this way.

{Monk and Kagen follow the young woman past a spacious worship area with a podium, classrooms, and into a spotless stainless steel kitchen off a well-lit hallway.}

INT. KITCHEN—DAY

{Monk and Kagen are ushered in by Sunar who departs. JABARI HATOOM is African American, tall, balding, early thirties, and dressed in slacks and a shirt with his sleeves rolled up. He has the garbage disposal unit out and on a table, working on it with a screwdriver. He smiles upon seeing Monk.}

HATOOM:
Homeboy.

{Hatoom puts down his screwdriver and embraces the P.I.}

MONK:
Glad you could see us.

{They disengage. Monk indicates Kagen.}

MONK (cont'd):
This is Walsh Kagen.

HATOOM (shaking the director's hand):
Man, what a pleasure. You don't know how many times I've seen
The Plunderers
and
One Deadly Night
.

KAGEN:
That's flattering. And how is it you know Ivan?

HATOOM:
He busted me.

{Kagen regards Monk.}

MONK:
Long time ago, when I used to do bounty hunting.

KAGEN (to Hatoom):
And you converted in prison?

HATOOM:
Exactly.

MONK:
Will you set up a meeting for us with Odeh?

{Hatoom is uncomfortable.}

HATOOM:
I have not made the call.

MONK:
I know it's hard, Jabari, but you know good and well it's the Muslim community that has to step up if there's an extremist running around.

HATOOM:
Is that just another way to say we have to be good, shuffling handkerchief heads? Being a Muslim is not synonymous with being a terrorist, Ivan. And depending on the political winds, freedom fighters become rebels become evil-doers.

MONK:
Odeh put himself in the mix, Jabari.

KAGEN:
What am I missing here?

{Hatoom and Monk exchange a look.}

HATOOM:
Odeh demanded and got a meeting with Alan Ross two days ago.

KAGEN:
Does everybody read that
Journal
rag?

HATOOM:
A possible movie about bin Laden that would invariably put our community in a bad light was bound to draw attention, especially in these times.

KAGEN:
But that's the point; my idea is ultimately that the film is about tolerance. I'll admit I'm exploiting bin Laden because, well, frankly, like any out-size madman, he's great pulp material. I'm not a student of Sam Fuller and was an A.D. on a couple of Frankenheimer's films for nothing. Look guys, great villains and the horrors they commit make powerful statements about us. From King Leopold and the Congo to Pol Pot and his Khmer Rouge as depicted in
The Killing Fields
 . . . that's show biz, fellas.

HATOOM:
The meeting deteriorated, and Odeh, from what I understand, was removed by security.

KAGEN (to Monk):
And you found this out by calling around?

[Monk shrugs.]

KAGEN (cont'd):
Some Rolodex. Sam L. Jackson or Ving Rhames for sure, Monk. The best is what you deserve.

MONK:
Lovely. Look, Jabari, you know damn well I'm not going to be part of an attempt to railroad Odeh or anybody else. But somebody tossed those hot totties.

HATOOM:
And the Molotov is the Intifada favorite?

MONK:
Maybe it's a set-up or it was done to send a message and a signature.

HATOOM:
You've already made up your mind.

MONK:
I'm suspicious by inclination, not vindictive, man. It comes down to this, you want it to be only the FBI that gets to talk to Odeh?

HATOOM:
You drive a hard mule, Mr. Monk.

MONK:
Make the call, will you, Jabari?

HATOOM:
Okay. But I'm not promising anything.

MONK:
Understood.

{The two shake hands again.}

CUT TO:

INT. '64 FORD GALAXIE—DAY

{Monk and Kagen drive away and Kagen's cell phone RINGS.}

KAGAN (clicking on phone):
Hello?
(he listens, then:)
Thanks, Mina. We'll swing by there to see him.

{He clicks off the phone, and over this says to Monk:}

KAGEN:
That was my assistant. She's got a friend over at Cedars. Alan is awake and lucid, and the cops don't know it yet.

EXT. '64 FORD GALAXIE

{The car picks up speed along the city streets.}

INT. BURN WARD, CEDARS SINAI
HOSPITAL—DAY

{Alan Ross is propped up in his hospital bed in the burn ward populated by several other patients, visitors, and hospital staff. His upper body is bandaged as is part of his face and head.}
{Numerous flower arrangements are spread out on the night stand and floor near his bed. Monk and Kagen stand on either side of his bed.}

MONK:
That's it?

ROSS (soft voiced):
'Fraid so. He was young, about twenty-two or so, dressed in normal clothes (
beat
) you know, jeans and a sweatshirt.

MONK:
Any logo on the sweat shirt?

ROSS:
No, no it was plain.

KAGEN:
And this kid was Arab?

{Ross hesitates.}

ROSS:
He didn't have an accent, but he was, well, brown-skinned and dark-haired.

KAGEN (to Monk):
All the more reason to get to Odeh.

MONK:
But he called you traitor?

ROSS:
That's right.

MONK:
Are you of Arab extraction?

ROSS:
No, nor am I Jewish.

{Monk says nothing, mulling over the information.}

DISSOLVE TO:

INT. KODAMA AND MONK'S HOUSE,
STUDY—NIGHT

{In the comfortable and book-lined study, Kodama is sketching with a charcoal pencil on a freshly stretched and guached canvas on a easel. Monk sits and sips on Scotch from a tumbler. His face is a barometer of his intense concentration.}

KODAMA:
Even if the attacker was Arab, that doesn't mean he was operating on anybody's orders. There're plenty of people inflamed on all sides of this who are more than willing to act alone.

MONK:
Sure, but the reality is I've got to talk to Odeh to satisfy myself.

KODAMA:
What if he ducks you

MONK:
Then how would you interpret that?

KODAMA:
It doesn't mean he's guilty. It might mean despite Jabari vouching for you, he doesn't want to in any way further jeopardize his organization. He's doesn't know you to be the big, sweet, voodoo daddy I love.

{She laughs and he grins.}

KODAMA (cont'd):
But you're right, you will have to have some face time with him.

{She continues working.}

MONK

{—is sullen then brightens.}

MONK:
You got a sharp Number 2 pencil, baby?

KODAMA (stops sketching):
What?

MONK (standing):
Grab one and your sketch pad. We got a patient to see.

KODAMA (hand on hip):
I am not your secretary.

{Monk has crossed to her, his arm around her waist.}

MONK:
You're a Renaissance woman, you know that?

{He points at the canvas.}

MONK (cont'd):
And bring your glasses, baby. I want those lines crisp in this next drawing.

KODAMA:
Kiss my ass.

INT. BURN WARD, CEDARS SINAI
HOSPITAL—NIGHT

{Kodama, wearing her glasses, sits next to Ross's bed, doing a sketch of the man who threw a Molotov at him. She stops and holds it up for the vp of development to see.}

KODAMA:
How this?

ROSS:
A little more shallowness in the cheeks and the eyes wider.

C.U. OF DRAWING

{Kodama resumes working on the drawing.}

ROSS (cont'd): (to Monk)
This is the second time I've done this. I described this guy to the police sketch artist the detectives who interviewed me sent this afternoon. (
beat
) They've got a head start on you, Ivan. I heard the younger one tell the older one they were going to check the drawing against the Homeland Security database. And canvas several Arab hangouts in the San Gabriel Valley a sheriff 's friend was hooking them up with.

MONK:
When you hesitated this afternoon in describing this cat, that just wasn't about guessing at his ethnicity was it?

{Kodama stops sketching to look at Monk.}

ROSS

{—chews his lower lip.}

ROSS:
It's just an impression.

MONK:
Come on, share.

ROSS:
As you know, I come into contact with a lot of actors. Not so much across my desk but at the hot spots, the watering holes that come and go on the A list one must frequent to keep up appearances.

MONK:
And a starlet or two you might stumble over.

ROSS:
Sure there's that.

KODAMA

{—makes a face.}

MONK:
Are you saying you've seen this guy at one of those places?

ROSS:
No, like I said, it's only a feeling. (
beat
) The way he, handled himself reminded me, well, like he was auditioning, you know?

{Monk and Kodama exchange a look.}

INT. TAYLOR'S STEAKHOUSE—
NIGHT—CONTINUOUS

{The steakhouse is an old school beef and booze joint with a dark interior and decor that hasn't been updated since the LBJ Administration. Under the din of the patrons, a basketball game plays on the TV at the end of the bar.}

{Monk and Kagen sit in a booth in the upstairs area, enjoying their heavy caloric intake.}

MONK

{—finishes chewing and swallows. He has a drink of water, then reaches over to extract a folded photograph out of his jacket's inner pocket hanging on a hook. He unfolds the photograph and places it on the table.}

CU

{—of the photograph, an actor's headshot. His hair is longer in the shot, but it's the young man who tossed the Molotov at Ross. On the credit line of the photo it reads: ALEX TUCCO}