INT. POLICE STATION - NIGHT
A tired detective, cigarette in his mouth, stands on the other side of a table from a fragile, weepy woman. A police sketch artist sits on the detective’s end of the table, his work just out of frame. He works diligently throughout the questioning.
Detective
Ok, Ms. Swiffer. We are going to play this one more time. This man who attacked you, was he wearing a hat?
Ms. Swiffer
He wasn’t wearing a hat at the time.
Detective
Good, so you got a look at his head. Was he a bald man? Or was he blessed with a strong head of hair?
Ms. Swiffer
He had hair.
Detective
What color?
Ms. Swiffer
I’m not sure. The lights were so low.
Detective
Think hard, Ms. Swiffer. This is very important.
Ms. Swiffer
Dark. Brown, maybe black.
Detective
Ok, facial features. Did he have a paunch, or was he the beanpole type?
Ms. Swiffer
He was heavy set. He had such heavy hands!
Detective
Any prominent facial features? Mole, scar, lazy eye, big nose, moustache…
Ms. Swiffer
A moustache! It looked like a caterpillar!
Detective
Excellent!
The detective looks at the sketch artist’s work.
Detective (to sketch artist)
She said caterpillar, damnit! Caterpillar! Not pencil-thin, not handlebar, not fumanchu! Caterpillar! (to Ms. Swiffer) Now his eyes. What color were his eyes?
Ms. Swiffer
I told you already. I couldn’t see them. It was too dark.
Detective
But you must have seen them at some point. You must have!
Ms. Swiffer
I didn’t! I couldn’t!
Ms. Swiffer starts crying loudly into a handkerchief. Detective crosses the room and roughly pulls Ms. Swiffer to her feet.
Detective
Pull yourself together woman!
He gives her two quick slaps across the face.
Detective (con’t)
If we don’t I.D. this guy tonight, he’s just going to victimize one woman after another after another. He’s probably out there right now, creeping about the dark, shattered underbelly of this city looking for some poor, unsuspecting woman to cut off her face! When I think of the happy faces of my two beautiful daughters, Broomhandle and Chandelier, hanging on some sicko’s wood-paneled double wide, well it just makes me want to puke! Now for the last time, what color were his fucking eyes!?!
Ms. Swiffer
Blue. They were blue!
Ms. Swiffer collapses into her chair. Detective runs over to see the sketch artist’s work.
Detective
Ms. Swiffer, is this the man?
He reveals the sketch artist’s work: a “Guess Who” board with just one picture remaining.
Ms. Swiffer
Yes, that’s him! That’s the one!
Ms. Swiffer breaks down, sobbing.
Detective (to artist)
Curly, blow this up and send it out over the wire, A.P.B.
Sketch artist grabs the “Guess Who” board and exits. Detective pulls out another cigarette and lights it. He puts his hand on Ms. Swiffer’s shoulder.
Detective
You just saved a lot of faces, Ms. Swiffer.
BLACKOUT.
