Early Edition (1996–2000): Season 1, Episode 4 - The Paper - full transcript
While searching for answers about the paper, Gary becomes involved with a reporter who is suspicious of his apparent knowledge of a certain story.
RADIO ANNOUNCER:
Good morning. It's wakeup time
in the city of Chicago,
and here's what's happening
in your town today.
There was a disturbance...
CHUCK:
Life doesn't always come
with a set of instructions.
In fact, most of the time,
it just comes.
(broadcast stops)
Every morning, like clockwork,
it's there
when you open your eyes,
and it's still there
even when you don't.
Take my friend Gary,
a regular guy.
At least he was
till the day life showed up
at his doorstep in spades.
Now he spends half his time
figuring out where the heck
it all came from...
(kettle whistles)
(cat meowing)
(paper thudding against door)
...and the other half
wondering where it all goes.
(meows)
Face it. It's not necessarily
all it's cracked up to be,
having the jump
on the rest of the world.
Still, you go
with what you got.
And when what you got
is tomorrow's news,
well, it's got
to be one of two things--
either you're a day ahead
or everyone else
is a day behind.
It's going to explode. Boom!
Go boom!
Your
kitchen.
The restaurant
is going to go boom!
Gaboom.
Boom! Go b... go
boom, go boom!
Boom!
Gaboom!
Speak English?
English? English?
(speaks Chinese)
The restaurant is
going to... go boom!
Do you speak
English?
Ka-boom!
Ka-boom! Do you un...?
GARY: No, I'm trying
to tell you,
the restaurant is going
to explode very soon.
Ka-boom!
Is says
right here!
Go boom! Eh...
Hey...
Smoke, flames-- boom!
No, no, no, no.
That... This one. Boom!
Boom!
(grill hisses)
That!
Go boom!
(indistinct shouting)
Oh!
(shouting hysterically
in Chinese)
(roaring explosion)
GARY:
Look out!
(chickens clucking frantically)
(man coughing)
(chickens clucking)
(theme music playing)
♪ ♪
ANCHORMAN:
...has indicated there will be
no bipartisan support
if Congress continues
to stonewall the bill.
Closer to home, still no word
on the disappearance
of labor leader Red Cooper,
who's heading his union's
reform movement
in the upcoming elections.
Cooper, well-known for his...
Look in the trunk of a Volvo
over on Grant Street tonight,
you'll find him.
You say something?
No.
(blues music playing low)
Hey, man.
How you...?
You smell like
a Chinese restaurant.
Moo goo gai pan,
my favorite.
The paper said
Woo Ling's Kitchen
was going to explode.
And?
Woo Ling's Kitchen exploded.
I'm telling you,
Chuck, I'm going crazy.
Why the hell is this
thing coming to me?
Oh, here we go again.
No... Before this thing
started coming,
my life was fine.
I was a commodities trader.
Wonderful home,
beautiful wife--
everything's good.
You got fired,
and your wife left you.
Uh-huh.
Sorry. I didn't mean
to interrupt. Go ahead.
I got to get to the
bottom of this.
I can't live
my life like this.
Is that the book
Marcia gave you?
(cash register dings nearby)
What?
I want to show you something.
CHUCK:
Nice picture.
"Typesetter, 1946,
Chicago Phoenix."
The cat.
What about it?
Does that happen to look
like any cat we know?
Gare, come on...
No, no, no, no, no.
Listen...
If that's the same cat,
then I figure all I got to do is
find out about this guy.
Good idea, except the
guy's probably
been dead for years,
and besides,
the Chicago Phoenix
hasn't been around for years.
My old man used to read it
every morning...
till the Sun ate it up.
Ate it up?
Yeah, they merged.
You see, there was the
old Trib and the Times,
and the Times teamed up
with the Sun back in '49.
Really?
That's fascinating.
Could you get me
a Crownie, please?
No, no, no.
Wait, wait.
You're saying that the
Phoenix and the Sun Times...
Same paper.
GARY:
I got to check this out.
(phones ringing)
(keyboards clacking)
(indistinct conversations)
Watch it.
Oh, sorry.
Thanks.
EDITOR:
Well, I'm old-fashioned.
Even if this guy does
talk to you...
He will talk
to me, Harry.
Even if he does,
I don't like anonymous sources.
It sounds like
we're making it up.
He's taking a big chance
just by talking to me.
He could end up in a trunk,
like Red Cooper...
Thank you.
I don't buy that.
The unions aren't
like that anymore.
Somebody forgot to tell
these guys that.
Yeah, well, you better
be careful, sister.
Harry, I'm a reporter.
You tell the boys
to be careful?
When they're on a murder
case, I do, yes. Okay?
You keep taking
that stuff without water,
you're gonna end up
with no stomach.
Stop doing that.
Who said I had
any stomach left?
(burps)
GARY: Mr. Hawks?
Uh, Gary Hobson.
We had an appointment.
Uh, I can come
back later if...
We're done, actually.
Meet Meredith Carson.
Oh, how do you do?
I've read your stuff.
See that, Harry?
Who says the public
doesn't read bylines?
I've seen you on TV, too,
those talk shows.
Yeah, I've done one or two.
The Chicago
Week in Review.
Actually, no, that's Rebecca
from the Trib.
(Harry chuckles)
I guess you overplayed
your hand, sport, huh?
Uh, huh?
What can I do for you?
Oh, uh...
I-I'm a historian, uh, with...
Well, we spoke on the phone,
and I was wondering if I could
get a look at the archives.
Oh, the archives, yeah.
Paulie, who's
the name of that guy,
sits down in
the archives all day?
It's all down
in the basement.
You better let me
show you.
I've been in charge
of the archives
25 years, this December.
Well, I appreciate you
showing me around.
Miss Carson?
Uh...
I'm sorry if I said anything
that was out of line. I...
I don't remember
what you said.
Well, I do read
your work, though.
I saw your story this morning
about finding Cooper.
That's great stuff--
green Volvo and Jersey plates.
It's really good.
Thanks.
Uh, the archives.
Oh, sure.
(telephone rings)
(sighs)
Everything before 1955
would be along the wall here.
What about
the Chicago Phoenix,
would those records
be down here, too?
Right this way.
Chicago Phoenix--
my, my!
Were, uh, were you here
back then, Mr. Morris?
Sure was.
Do you mind
if I show you something?
Do you know that man?
Hmm... Let's see here.
No, don't believe so.
Sorry.
That's all right.
Been so long,
you know.
Yes, sir.
I imagine there were
a lot of typesetters.
More than a few.
What about this cat?
Cat!
Snow. Lucius Snow--
that's the fella's name.
Snow?
Kept to himself,
but everybody knew that cat.
"Snow's cat,"
we called him.
So you knew Mr. Snow?
Strange thing about old Snow,
now that I think about it--
but, nah, probably
just fool's talk.
No, no, no, no. Please.
Well, they say he set
the Truman headline
a whole day before
anybody else knew.
And V.E. Day?
He had all the type
all set before it happened.
Kind of a legend that way,
you know what I'm saying?
Imagine that.
CARSON:
Mr. Hobson?
Who are you?
Excuse me?
Who are you?
And how did you know
about those Jersey plates?
Oh, well, I told you--
I read about that
in the paper
this morning.
The Volvo, yes;
the Jersey plates, no.
I'm just writing about it now;
it won't come out till tomorrow.
And the police
aren't talking,
so the only way
you could have that information
is if you were involved.
Involved?
In the killing of Red Cooper.
Oh, no, no.
Wait a second...
I see you kids have
a lot to talk about, so I'll...
Oh, no. Wait,
Mr. Morris...
Go ahead. Go ahead.
I'll be back in a minute.
Tell you more about old Snow.
But in the meantime,
and in-between time,
may I trouble you
for a cigarette?
I quit.
There's a whole carton
in my desk, though--
you can have those.
Thank you! Excuse me, sir.
So, who are you,
and how did you know?
Um...
What was the question again?
(singing softly):
♪ I hate to see ♪
♪ That evenin' sun go... ♪
Hey, Beverly.
Mr. Morris.
♪ ...down... ♪
Look at that. Can't even see
in the light.
Too many years working
downstairs in the coal mine.
♪ Feeling tomorrow... ♪
Where'd she say she put them?
(explosion)
(Morris yells)
(screaming, shouting)
What was that?!
MAN:
You all right?!
It just went up!
(clicking)
GARY:
Excuse me, I'm
looking for 623.
NURSE:
Right over here.
Thank you.
Hello.
Hi.
What are you
doing here?
Well, I thought I'd come by
and see Mr. Morris.
You going to ask him
a few more questions?
Oh, no, he's a nice guy.
I thought I'd come say hello.
Is this what happens
to all you reporters?
You start thinking
the worst of everyone?
(giggles)
Are you friends of Mr. Morris'?
I am, anyway.
I was with him just
before he was hurt.
H-How is he?
The burns are only on his hands.
Could have been worse.
Can we see him?
I'm afraid not. He-He's having
some heart problems.
I can't let you see him.
All right, thank you.
Have a nice day.
Uh, wait up.
It was my office.
It was meant for me, wasn't it?
Well, then, talk to the police.
I did. I told them
as little as possible.
It means I'm too
close to finding
something out.
Well, then, you better
look out for yourself.
See ya.
Is that a warning?
Excuse me?
Did you just threaten me?
What?
Well, you show up today,
you know things that
aren't even in the paper yet,
and now this happens.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
See, you got me.
I'm a hit man for the mob.
Shh.
You think that's funny?
Red Cooper is dead
and Morris is
in the hospital.
They'll probably send me
to Sicily for a year
until things cool off,
but until then, good-bye.
I'm going with you.
I don't think the Don
would allow that.
Good-bye.
Okay, so maybe
I don't believe you'd actually
hurt anybody,
but you did
know about the plates.
Well, it was a guess.
There are 50 states.
Well, when in doubt,
you guess New Jersey.
You'd be a funny guy if you
weren't a problem I'm having.
(feigned laughter)
There's a graveyard
for personnel files.
You were asking
about a former employee.
I heard you say
that to Morris.
I could show you where it is.
So, Hawk says
you're a historian.
U of C?
Uh, well, no.
You'd sort of call it, uh,
freelance, I guess.
A freelance historian, hmm.
Well, you must know
Professor Langenheim,
Bloomington.
I did a piece on him last year.
Huh? Yeah, Langenheim.
He's a good guy, Langenheim.
Oh, you know what?
Except he's not at Bloomington.
He's at Wisconsin.
Oh, Long-- Langenham that,
the one at Wisconsin.
Well, sure, that's--
I was thinking of the other one.
"Snow."
Are you going to open that?
'Cause I got to admit,
I'm curious.
Oh, yeah.
Check these out.
Ah!
(papers fall)
(drawer closes)
Gary?
Gary?
Hey, wait.
Gary, what are you doing?
See ya.
Gary!
Hey?
(kicking gate)
Gary, open this up!
Excuse me.
There's a very strange woman
downstairs
in the archives, yelling.
You might want
to check that out.
(dog barking)
This can't be right.
There's nothing here.
There's nothing here.
"Our famous Caesar:
crispy Romaine..."
Skeezer salad's
more like it.
"Santa Fe Chicken Salad..."
Mystery meat.
Gary, the paper comes to you.
That's all you need to know.
How about pasta of the day?
You don't need
to know how or why
or how come it's you
Pasta of the day or
fish of the day.
I mean, most people you ask
They got fresh
pan-fried trout...
why we're here, what difference
do they make, they can't say.
You want to get
the hush puppies?
But you, you're special.
"Special"?
That paper makes you special.
"Special"? You want to know what
that paper makes me?
It makes me nuts.
I don't have a life.
I can't get a job.
I don't even have a girlfriend.
You know why?
Because every time
I get close to having
anything that's
normal in life,
that paper takes it away.
No, no, no, no, no--
that paper comes to you
so you can try and do something.
It's a gift.
Don't look at it
in the mouth.
What else you got?
(blues song playing)
How about hearts of palm?
In the folder.
Oh, I got a claim ticket
that, uh, belongs
probably to a hotel
that doesn't exist anymore.
Mm-hmm.
Employee stuff.
Mr. Lucius Snow.
Height: 5'7".
Weight: 155 pounds, blue eyes.
Date of birth, 19--
there's a blank spot.
Died, 1996, September 28.
And that's about it.
Gary, the day he died,
you remember, don't you?
Remember what?
That's the day before the paper
started coming to you.
(elevator bell dings)
Oh, you're good.
What are you doing in here?
The doorman let me in.
Oh... the doorman let you in.
Right, well, why don't you...
Don't touch me.
Get out of here!
So what's your big secret, huh?
What secret?
I do this
for a living. I know when
somebody's hiding something.
(distant siren blares)
You know, I don't like you.
I don't like you.
Good.
Good.
You can tell your union bosses
something for me.
They don't scare me--
not by blowing up my desk
and not by sending some
good-looking
muscle to shut my up.
Hey...
"Good-looking"?
I must be losing my touch.
I'm behind you.
I'm the guy you're looking for.
You're Richie O'Brien?
You can tell me
about Red Cooper?
I was there.
If you talk to me,
I'll keep you anonymous.
Not now.
There is a Motel 9 near
the fairgrounds in Oak Park.
Okay.
Tomorrow morning, 8:00.
Take a room.
I'll see you then.
No, wait, Richie?
(thunder rumbles)
RADIO ANNOUNCER:
Good morning! It's another day
in Chicago and here's what's
(cat meows)
happening in the world.
(paper thudding against door)
The City Council moves
into the final stages of...
(meows)
Oh, God.
You're looking
for Meredith, huh?
I-I was hoping you could
help me find her.
Mister, I don't know
where anyone is.
Malcolm, you misspelled
"brassiere" again.
MAN:
Oh, boy.
Okay, I'll put on
every available man.
Call out the National Guard.
Yeah, look, it's
important that I find her.
You know what this is?
Tomorrow's headlines.
Massacres in Burundi,
a serial killer gets
the chair tonight.
But should I care? No.
I'm not running a paper,
I'm running a missing
persons bureau,
or maybe a
lonely hearts' club.
That's her desk.
She's not at it, as usual.
Trust me, you don't
find Meredith,
she finds you.
Henderson, this death row guy
got any hobbies here?
GARY:
Pretty sloppy work, lady.
Hey?
Thank you.
Oh, and check your headlines.
Your execution story's wrong.
The governor's going to grant
a pardon at midnight.
Uh, Henderson...
(clicking)
Come on, Richie.
Where are you?
(knocking at door)
Ow, my hand! My hand!
What are you doing here?
My hand! My hand! My hand!
Go away!
My hand! My hand!
My hand! My hand!
All right! Come in!
Who sent you here, huh?
Nobody sent me.
How did you know I was here?
What do you mean...?
Huh? What have you
done with Richie?
Don't poke me. I don't know who
Richie is and I don't care.
I do know you got
to get out of here.
Oh, yeah? How's that?
"How's that?"
I'll tell you how's that.
'Cause someone's
coming here
to get you...
Friends of yours, no doubt.
You know what?
I don't trust you
and I'm going to call the cops.
Okay, you call the cops.
While you're calling the cops,
why don't you call
the ambulance, too?
'Cause I think
you broke my ha...
Hello? Hello?
The phone's dead.
That's it.
We're going.
I'm staying.
No, you're going.
Ow!
Staying!
Going!
Next floor, 306.
I'm going.
Thanks for trusting.
For the record, I did
not say I trusted you.
Just get in the car.
What, in this?
It's a rental.
Get in the car.
Let's take mine.
Would you get in the car?
Do not tell...
MAN:
There they are.
Put your seat belt on.
Don't tell me what to do!
Put your
seat belt on.
Listen, Mr. Safety, now there
are two killers coming...
The car won't start
without your seat belt on.
Well, take your time.
Start the car!
(engine revving)
(tires screeching)
Take me home.
Good idea, like they
don't know where you live.
There's probably a bomb
in your toaster.
I can't go home, I
can't go anywhere.
I don't get it. Why would
they come after me?
Without Richie,
I don't even have a story.
Well, maybe they don't know
that and maybe Richie s... ow!
Maybe Richie set you up.
I don't think so.
I think you scared him off.
Oh, so, it's all
my fault, I see.
You know, you
got a real knack
for pushing your
problems on other people.
Do you know
that you live in a dump?
What's that
supposed to mean?
(grunting):
What's this?
Look, why don't you keep
your paws off my things?
Just being curious,
doing my job.
Yeah, well, your curiosity
is giving me a headache. Ow!
You know, I'm usually pretty
good at figuring people out,
but I'm having a
tough time with you.
What is it you do with
your life, anyway?
It's none of your business...
Give me your hand.
...what I do with my life.
You got a job, huh?
You got a wife?
(grunts)
Bingo.
(chuckles)
Hey, come on, let's
just add this up.
What do we got? We got a
guy in a bad hotel room.
Why?
I think maybe his wife threw
him out on his keister.
And why is he
still here?
'Cause he's burning
a torch for her.
"Burning a torch,"
that's a good one.
What does he do for a
living? Does he have a job?
He's not a hit man-- not
driving that car, he's not--
and he's not a reporter.
"Driving that car"?
Otherwise, he would have
stolen my story by now.
How do you think
I'm doing?
How do I think you're doing?
Well, I think you're
pretty much finished.
Uh-uh-uh-uh.
I think he's looking
for something--
something
that's missing,
something that has
to do with this.
All right,
give it back.
Nope.
(grunts)
Let it go.
Or what?
Just let it go.
(book thuds)
You just dropped my book.
So?
So pick it up.
Don't tell me
what to do.
It's your book,
you pick it up.
What are you doing?
What do you mean
what am I doing?
I mean what are you doing?
I kissed you.
I know you kissed me.
Why'd you stop?
I didn't stop;
you stopped.
I didn't stop...
Kiss me again.
Don't tell me
what to do.
Don't ever tell
me what to do.
Okay.
(thunder rumbling)
(train cars rattling
in distance)
(chuckles)
Good morning.
(grunts)
(chuckles)
Faker.
(door closes)
Morning.
CHUCK:
Hey, Gare.
(shower running)
Gare, it's me.
(knocking)
Gare, wake up.
Gare?
Chuck, go away.
What? I can't hear you.
I said go away.
What's wrong?
Are you sick?
I'm busy.
Doing what?
Hey.
Gare...?
Oh...
Oh...
(Meredith singing
to herself)
(train passing in distance)
(distant car horns honk)
Hey.
Hey, good morning.
(cat meows)
(paper thudding
against door)
Gary?
(meows)
GARY (shouting):
Hello, down there!
Hey, do you want coffee?
Uh, yeah, black.
(sighs)
You want cream?
Uh, black.
Sugar?
Black, please.
So, you, uh, you want
it just black, then?
Uh, yeah, black would be good.
(cat meows)
That's what
I thought.
Hey, buddy, how're you doing?
Hey, how are you doing today?
Huh, how are...?
What are you doing here?
(meows)
Don't read that.
We're not going to play
this game again, are we?
I just don't like people
reading my paper.
Why?
I'm a reporter.
You're serious about this,
aren't you?
Okay.
What is it?
I-I...
Look, I-I can't explain this.
I'm a big girl.
I can take it.
Who? The wife?
The silence
is killing me.
Come on, what?
Yes, no?
Look, I can't do this.
I'm sorry.
Where you going?
I'm going to work.
I'm going to do my job.
(kettle whistling)
Your coffee's ready.
(door closes)
I don't want
it anymore!
You hear me?
Good morning, sir.
Good morning.
No paper today?
Nope.
♪ ♪
HARRY:
Well, if it isn't
the ever elusive Miss Carson.
Not today, Harry.
You never call,
you never write.
Especially
you never write.
Where you been?
Meeting didn't happen,
contact didn't show.
That would be yesterday;
now it's today.
I had a rough night, okay?
I'm so tired of this--
chasing air.
I know more about the people
I write about than mysel....
I think I'm going to retire...
someplace peaceful.
Someplace where
there's no men.
Oh, butt out.
You're not
going to retire.
Want to bet?
You're all newspaper,
kid, it's in your blood.
You couldn't retire
if you wanted to.
Try me.
Coffee's cold.
Tonight?
Hey, Jimmy, this story
you wrote-- what happened?
Happened to what?
I read it this morning.
It said the budget passed.
You're joking, right?
No.
They don't vote
till tonight.
Besides, the council's
made up their mind.
It doesn't
stand a chance.
Carson, maybe you ought
to take up smoking again.
Miss Carson?
Yeah.
There's a
message for you.
Not now.
He said it's important.
Don't care.
Some guy named Richie.
He called from
downstairs in the lobby.
He said you--
he said you'd want to know.
(elevator bell dinging)
Hey, hold it.
What floor?
Lobby.
Hey, I said lobby.
(squeaking)
Sorry, cupcake, no can do.
Where's Richie?
Richie ain't anywhere.
That message you got
was from us.
So, where you guys
taking me?
Dinner and drinks? Or how
about the trunk of your car?
Neither. The car went dead
three blocks from here.
Carburetor problems.
Sorry to hear
that, boys.
Here's going
to have to do.
Open it up.
(mouse squeaking)
Check it out.
Let's talk.
Okay.
What do you want
to talk about?
Sports? Philosophy?
How about Red Cooper?
We want to know
what Richie told you.
Sorry, not much.
Yeah, that's
what Richie said,
but we didn't
believe him.
If you think you're gonna
intimidate me with
that $20.00 jacket,
you don't know who you're
dealing with.
(indistinct chatter)
(whispers):
The stairs.
Meredith?
Meredith?
It's not your color, okay?
Nice shot.
Thanks.
What are you
doing here?
Well, I missed you.
I'm supposed
to believe that?
Come on, come
on, come on.
What's this?
Where?
There.
In here.
Oh, this is cozy.
This is kind of like
Tales From The Crypt.
All right.
We got 'em now.
Okay.
What now?
In about ten minutes,
the night watchman comes
and finds our bodies.
What?
Well, if there were
a night watchman,
in about ten minutes,
he'd come and find our bodies.
You do know something,
don't you?
We're going to die.
It's in the paper,
isn't it?
Isn't it?
I thought the guy
in the paper was Richie.
I was wrong.
Fooled again.
And if you had known?
I'd have come, anyway.
(pounding on door)
Can't you do any better
than that?
I'm working it.
I'll do it myself.
You want to know
something ironic?
I'm holding the scoop
of the century here,
and I don't even care.
(muffled pounding)
(pounding continues)
What's this?
(pounding continues)
Burn.
No, wait! The paper?
I knew it was good
for something.
(pounding continues)
All right, now,
get us out of here.
(alarm blaring)
What's that?
Call it in.
I'll be back.
(alarm continues)
Forget it.
Hold it. Whoa.
What'd we do?!
(alarm blaring)
I guess I got a
story to file.
Yeah.
What time are you
going to be done?
In time for dinner.
Okay.
Okay.
You going to tell me
about it?
About what?
The paper.
I thought you didn't care
about the paper.
Well, I thought
we were going to die.
No comment.
I gotta go.
MORRIS:
So she nailed them, did she?
That's our girl, Meredith.
Don't stop till
you bring 'em down.
And this...
belonged to old man
Snow, you say?
That'd be like him.
Play things close,
you know.
And he lived
at Brown's?
Far as I know.
Most of his life,
anyway.
Except toward
the end.
He moved about
a year ago.
He-he moved?
Couldn't quite
figure out why.
Funny guy, that Snow.
Where did he move?
(mumbling)
DOORMAN:
Ah, there you go.
I knew she was back
here somewhere.
A trunk?
I was hoping for at least
a sack full of cash.
This is where it's been
the whole time?
In your hotel?
Figures.
Wait, wait a second.
You mean,
you knew this guy?
Old man Snow?
Oh, sure did.
He died the day
before you moved in.
12 bucks.
Oh.
Business is
business.
12 bucks?
There you go.
Good luck.
You know what?
I've been waiting
for something like this
ever since the paper
started coming.
And now that it's here,
I'm not so sure I want to know.
Maybe you're supposed
to know.
(purring)
(hinges creaking)
What is it?
What is it?
(meows)
(clicking)
Like I said, kid,
you're all...
newspaper.
Shut up, Harry.
Good night.
Good night.
(distant siren wailing)
(phone line ringing)
(ringing continues)
You're, uh, not hungry
by chance, are you?
Moo goo gai pan from Woo Ling's.
It's the best food in town.
Hi.
Hi.
Good morning. It's wakeup time
in the city of Chicago,
and here's what's happening
in your town today.
There was a disturbance...
CHUCK:
Life doesn't always come
with a set of instructions.
In fact, most of the time,
it just comes.
(broadcast stops)
Every morning, like clockwork,
it's there
when you open your eyes,
and it's still there
even when you don't.
Take my friend Gary,
a regular guy.
At least he was
till the day life showed up
at his doorstep in spades.
Now he spends half his time
figuring out where the heck
it all came from...
(kettle whistles)
(cat meowing)
(paper thudding against door)
...and the other half
wondering where it all goes.
(meows)
Face it. It's not necessarily
all it's cracked up to be,
having the jump
on the rest of the world.
Still, you go
with what you got.
And when what you got
is tomorrow's news,
well, it's got
to be one of two things--
either you're a day ahead
or everyone else
is a day behind.
It's going to explode. Boom!
Go boom!
Your
kitchen.
The restaurant
is going to go boom!
Gaboom.
Boom! Go b... go
boom, go boom!
Boom!
Gaboom!
Speak English?
English? English?
(speaks Chinese)
The restaurant is
going to... go boom!
Do you speak
English?
Ka-boom!
Ka-boom! Do you un...?
GARY: No, I'm trying
to tell you,
the restaurant is going
to explode very soon.
Ka-boom!
Is says
right here!
Go boom! Eh...
Hey...
Smoke, flames-- boom!
No, no, no, no.
That... This one. Boom!
Boom!
(grill hisses)
That!
Go boom!
(indistinct shouting)
Oh!
(shouting hysterically
in Chinese)
(roaring explosion)
GARY:
Look out!
(chickens clucking frantically)
(man coughing)
(chickens clucking)
(theme music playing)
♪ ♪
ANCHORMAN:
...has indicated there will be
no bipartisan support
if Congress continues
to stonewall the bill.
Closer to home, still no word
on the disappearance
of labor leader Red Cooper,
who's heading his union's
reform movement
in the upcoming elections.
Cooper, well-known for his...
Look in the trunk of a Volvo
over on Grant Street tonight,
you'll find him.
You say something?
No.
(blues music playing low)
Hey, man.
How you...?
You smell like
a Chinese restaurant.
Moo goo gai pan,
my favorite.
The paper said
Woo Ling's Kitchen
was going to explode.
And?
Woo Ling's Kitchen exploded.
I'm telling you,
Chuck, I'm going crazy.
Why the hell is this
thing coming to me?
Oh, here we go again.
No... Before this thing
started coming,
my life was fine.
I was a commodities trader.
Wonderful home,
beautiful wife--
everything's good.
You got fired,
and your wife left you.
Uh-huh.
Sorry. I didn't mean
to interrupt. Go ahead.
I got to get to the
bottom of this.
I can't live
my life like this.
Is that the book
Marcia gave you?
(cash register dings nearby)
What?
I want to show you something.
CHUCK:
Nice picture.
"Typesetter, 1946,
Chicago Phoenix."
The cat.
What about it?
Does that happen to look
like any cat we know?
Gare, come on...
No, no, no, no, no.
Listen...
If that's the same cat,
then I figure all I got to do is
find out about this guy.
Good idea, except the
guy's probably
been dead for years,
and besides,
the Chicago Phoenix
hasn't been around for years.
My old man used to read it
every morning...
till the Sun ate it up.
Ate it up?
Yeah, they merged.
You see, there was the
old Trib and the Times,
and the Times teamed up
with the Sun back in '49.
Really?
That's fascinating.
Could you get me
a Crownie, please?
No, no, no.
Wait, wait.
You're saying that the
Phoenix and the Sun Times...
Same paper.
GARY:
I got to check this out.
(phones ringing)
(keyboards clacking)
(indistinct conversations)
Watch it.
Oh, sorry.
Thanks.
EDITOR:
Well, I'm old-fashioned.
Even if this guy does
talk to you...
He will talk
to me, Harry.
Even if he does,
I don't like anonymous sources.
It sounds like
we're making it up.
He's taking a big chance
just by talking to me.
He could end up in a trunk,
like Red Cooper...
Thank you.
I don't buy that.
The unions aren't
like that anymore.
Somebody forgot to tell
these guys that.
Yeah, well, you better
be careful, sister.
Harry, I'm a reporter.
You tell the boys
to be careful?
When they're on a murder
case, I do, yes. Okay?
You keep taking
that stuff without water,
you're gonna end up
with no stomach.
Stop doing that.
Who said I had
any stomach left?
(burps)
GARY: Mr. Hawks?
Uh, Gary Hobson.
We had an appointment.
Uh, I can come
back later if...
We're done, actually.
Meet Meredith Carson.
Oh, how do you do?
I've read your stuff.
See that, Harry?
Who says the public
doesn't read bylines?
I've seen you on TV, too,
those talk shows.
Yeah, I've done one or two.
The Chicago
Week in Review.
Actually, no, that's Rebecca
from the Trib.
(Harry chuckles)
I guess you overplayed
your hand, sport, huh?
Uh, huh?
What can I do for you?
Oh, uh...
I-I'm a historian, uh, with...
Well, we spoke on the phone,
and I was wondering if I could
get a look at the archives.
Oh, the archives, yeah.
Paulie, who's
the name of that guy,
sits down in
the archives all day?
It's all down
in the basement.
You better let me
show you.
I've been in charge
of the archives
25 years, this December.
Well, I appreciate you
showing me around.
Miss Carson?
Uh...
I'm sorry if I said anything
that was out of line. I...
I don't remember
what you said.
Well, I do read
your work, though.
I saw your story this morning
about finding Cooper.
That's great stuff--
green Volvo and Jersey plates.
It's really good.
Thanks.
Uh, the archives.
Oh, sure.
(telephone rings)
(sighs)
Everything before 1955
would be along the wall here.
What about
the Chicago Phoenix,
would those records
be down here, too?
Right this way.
Chicago Phoenix--
my, my!
Were, uh, were you here
back then, Mr. Morris?
Sure was.
Do you mind
if I show you something?
Do you know that man?
Hmm... Let's see here.
No, don't believe so.
Sorry.
That's all right.
Been so long,
you know.
Yes, sir.
I imagine there were
a lot of typesetters.
More than a few.
What about this cat?
Cat!
Snow. Lucius Snow--
that's the fella's name.
Snow?
Kept to himself,
but everybody knew that cat.
"Snow's cat,"
we called him.
So you knew Mr. Snow?
Strange thing about old Snow,
now that I think about it--
but, nah, probably
just fool's talk.
No, no, no, no. Please.
Well, they say he set
the Truman headline
a whole day before
anybody else knew.
And V.E. Day?
He had all the type
all set before it happened.
Kind of a legend that way,
you know what I'm saying?
Imagine that.
CARSON:
Mr. Hobson?
Who are you?
Excuse me?
Who are you?
And how did you know
about those Jersey plates?
Oh, well, I told you--
I read about that
in the paper
this morning.
The Volvo, yes;
the Jersey plates, no.
I'm just writing about it now;
it won't come out till tomorrow.
And the police
aren't talking,
so the only way
you could have that information
is if you were involved.
Involved?
In the killing of Red Cooper.
Oh, no, no.
Wait a second...
I see you kids have
a lot to talk about, so I'll...
Oh, no. Wait,
Mr. Morris...
Go ahead. Go ahead.
I'll be back in a minute.
Tell you more about old Snow.
But in the meantime,
and in-between time,
may I trouble you
for a cigarette?
I quit.
There's a whole carton
in my desk, though--
you can have those.
Thank you! Excuse me, sir.
So, who are you,
and how did you know?
Um...
What was the question again?
(singing softly):
♪ I hate to see ♪
♪ That evenin' sun go... ♪
Hey, Beverly.
Mr. Morris.
♪ ...down... ♪
Look at that. Can't even see
in the light.
Too many years working
downstairs in the coal mine.
♪ Feeling tomorrow... ♪
Where'd she say she put them?
(explosion)
(Morris yells)
(screaming, shouting)
What was that?!
MAN:
You all right?!
It just went up!
(clicking)
GARY:
Excuse me, I'm
looking for 623.
NURSE:
Right over here.
Thank you.
Hello.
Hi.
What are you
doing here?
Well, I thought I'd come by
and see Mr. Morris.
You going to ask him
a few more questions?
Oh, no, he's a nice guy.
I thought I'd come say hello.
Is this what happens
to all you reporters?
You start thinking
the worst of everyone?
(giggles)
Are you friends of Mr. Morris'?
I am, anyway.
I was with him just
before he was hurt.
H-How is he?
The burns are only on his hands.
Could have been worse.
Can we see him?
I'm afraid not. He-He's having
some heart problems.
I can't let you see him.
All right, thank you.
Have a nice day.
Uh, wait up.
It was my office.
It was meant for me, wasn't it?
Well, then, talk to the police.
I did. I told them
as little as possible.
It means I'm too
close to finding
something out.
Well, then, you better
look out for yourself.
See ya.
Is that a warning?
Excuse me?
Did you just threaten me?
What?
Well, you show up today,
you know things that
aren't even in the paper yet,
and now this happens.
Oh, yeah, yeah, yeah.
See, you got me.
I'm a hit man for the mob.
Shh.
You think that's funny?
Red Cooper is dead
and Morris is
in the hospital.
They'll probably send me
to Sicily for a year
until things cool off,
but until then, good-bye.
I'm going with you.
I don't think the Don
would allow that.
Good-bye.
Okay, so maybe
I don't believe you'd actually
hurt anybody,
but you did
know about the plates.
Well, it was a guess.
There are 50 states.
Well, when in doubt,
you guess New Jersey.
You'd be a funny guy if you
weren't a problem I'm having.
(feigned laughter)
There's a graveyard
for personnel files.
You were asking
about a former employee.
I heard you say
that to Morris.
I could show you where it is.
So, Hawk says
you're a historian.
U of C?
Uh, well, no.
You'd sort of call it, uh,
freelance, I guess.
A freelance historian, hmm.
Well, you must know
Professor Langenheim,
Bloomington.
I did a piece on him last year.
Huh? Yeah, Langenheim.
He's a good guy, Langenheim.
Oh, you know what?
Except he's not at Bloomington.
He's at Wisconsin.
Oh, Long-- Langenham that,
the one at Wisconsin.
Well, sure, that's--
I was thinking of the other one.
"Snow."
Are you going to open that?
'Cause I got to admit,
I'm curious.
Oh, yeah.
Check these out.
Ah!
(papers fall)
(drawer closes)
Gary?
Gary?
Hey, wait.
Gary, what are you doing?
See ya.
Gary!
Hey?
(kicking gate)
Gary, open this up!
Excuse me.
There's a very strange woman
downstairs
in the archives, yelling.
You might want
to check that out.
(dog barking)
This can't be right.
There's nothing here.
There's nothing here.
"Our famous Caesar:
crispy Romaine..."
Skeezer salad's
more like it.
"Santa Fe Chicken Salad..."
Mystery meat.
Gary, the paper comes to you.
That's all you need to know.
How about pasta of the day?
You don't need
to know how or why
or how come it's you
Pasta of the day or
fish of the day.
I mean, most people you ask
They got fresh
pan-fried trout...
why we're here, what difference
do they make, they can't say.
You want to get
the hush puppies?
But you, you're special.
"Special"?
That paper makes you special.
"Special"? You want to know what
that paper makes me?
It makes me nuts.
I don't have a life.
I can't get a job.
I don't even have a girlfriend.
You know why?
Because every time
I get close to having
anything that's
normal in life,
that paper takes it away.
No, no, no, no, no--
that paper comes to you
so you can try and do something.
It's a gift.
Don't look at it
in the mouth.
What else you got?
(blues song playing)
How about hearts of palm?
In the folder.
Oh, I got a claim ticket
that, uh, belongs
probably to a hotel
that doesn't exist anymore.
Mm-hmm.
Employee stuff.
Mr. Lucius Snow.
Height: 5'7".
Weight: 155 pounds, blue eyes.
Date of birth, 19--
there's a blank spot.
Died, 1996, September 28.
And that's about it.
Gary, the day he died,
you remember, don't you?
Remember what?
That's the day before the paper
started coming to you.
(elevator bell dings)
Oh, you're good.
What are you doing in here?
The doorman let me in.
Oh... the doorman let you in.
Right, well, why don't you...
Don't touch me.
Get out of here!
So what's your big secret, huh?
What secret?
I do this
for a living. I know when
somebody's hiding something.
(distant siren blares)
You know, I don't like you.
I don't like you.
Good.
Good.
You can tell your union bosses
something for me.
They don't scare me--
not by blowing up my desk
and not by sending some
good-looking
muscle to shut my up.
Hey...
"Good-looking"?
I must be losing my touch.
I'm behind you.
I'm the guy you're looking for.
You're Richie O'Brien?
You can tell me
about Red Cooper?
I was there.
If you talk to me,
I'll keep you anonymous.
Not now.
There is a Motel 9 near
the fairgrounds in Oak Park.
Okay.
Tomorrow morning, 8:00.
Take a room.
I'll see you then.
No, wait, Richie?
(thunder rumbles)
RADIO ANNOUNCER:
Good morning! It's another day
in Chicago and here's what's
(cat meows)
happening in the world.
(paper thudding against door)
The City Council moves
into the final stages of...
(meows)
Oh, God.
You're looking
for Meredith, huh?
I-I was hoping you could
help me find her.
Mister, I don't know
where anyone is.
Malcolm, you misspelled
"brassiere" again.
MAN:
Oh, boy.
Okay, I'll put on
every available man.
Call out the National Guard.
Yeah, look, it's
important that I find her.
You know what this is?
Tomorrow's headlines.
Massacres in Burundi,
a serial killer gets
the chair tonight.
But should I care? No.
I'm not running a paper,
I'm running a missing
persons bureau,
or maybe a
lonely hearts' club.
That's her desk.
She's not at it, as usual.
Trust me, you don't
find Meredith,
she finds you.
Henderson, this death row guy
got any hobbies here?
GARY:
Pretty sloppy work, lady.
Hey?
Thank you.
Oh, and check your headlines.
Your execution story's wrong.
The governor's going to grant
a pardon at midnight.
Uh, Henderson...
(clicking)
Come on, Richie.
Where are you?
(knocking at door)
Ow, my hand! My hand!
What are you doing here?
My hand! My hand! My hand!
Go away!
My hand! My hand!
My hand! My hand!
All right! Come in!
Who sent you here, huh?
Nobody sent me.
How did you know I was here?
What do you mean...?
Huh? What have you
done with Richie?
Don't poke me. I don't know who
Richie is and I don't care.
I do know you got
to get out of here.
Oh, yeah? How's that?
"How's that?"
I'll tell you how's that.
'Cause someone's
coming here
to get you...
Friends of yours, no doubt.
You know what?
I don't trust you
and I'm going to call the cops.
Okay, you call the cops.
While you're calling the cops,
why don't you call
the ambulance, too?
'Cause I think
you broke my ha...
Hello? Hello?
The phone's dead.
That's it.
We're going.
I'm staying.
No, you're going.
Ow!
Staying!
Going!
Next floor, 306.
I'm going.
Thanks for trusting.
For the record, I did
not say I trusted you.
Just get in the car.
What, in this?
It's a rental.
Get in the car.
Let's take mine.
Would you get in the car?
Do not tell...
MAN:
There they are.
Put your seat belt on.
Don't tell me what to do!
Put your
seat belt on.
Listen, Mr. Safety, now there
are two killers coming...
The car won't start
without your seat belt on.
Well, take your time.
Start the car!
(engine revving)
(tires screeching)
Take me home.
Good idea, like they
don't know where you live.
There's probably a bomb
in your toaster.
I can't go home, I
can't go anywhere.
I don't get it. Why would
they come after me?
Without Richie,
I don't even have a story.
Well, maybe they don't know
that and maybe Richie s... ow!
Maybe Richie set you up.
I don't think so.
I think you scared him off.
Oh, so, it's all
my fault, I see.
You know, you
got a real knack
for pushing your
problems on other people.
Do you know
that you live in a dump?
What's that
supposed to mean?
(grunting):
What's this?
Look, why don't you keep
your paws off my things?
Just being curious,
doing my job.
Yeah, well, your curiosity
is giving me a headache. Ow!
You know, I'm usually pretty
good at figuring people out,
but I'm having a
tough time with you.
What is it you do with
your life, anyway?
It's none of your business...
Give me your hand.
...what I do with my life.
You got a job, huh?
You got a wife?
(grunts)
Bingo.
(chuckles)
Hey, come on, let's
just add this up.
What do we got? We got a
guy in a bad hotel room.
Why?
I think maybe his wife threw
him out on his keister.
And why is he
still here?
'Cause he's burning
a torch for her.
"Burning a torch,"
that's a good one.
What does he do for a
living? Does he have a job?
He's not a hit man-- not
driving that car, he's not--
and he's not a reporter.
"Driving that car"?
Otherwise, he would have
stolen my story by now.
How do you think
I'm doing?
How do I think you're doing?
Well, I think you're
pretty much finished.
Uh-uh-uh-uh.
I think he's looking
for something--
something
that's missing,
something that has
to do with this.
All right,
give it back.
Nope.
(grunts)
Let it go.
Or what?
Just let it go.
(book thuds)
You just dropped my book.
So?
So pick it up.
Don't tell me
what to do.
It's your book,
you pick it up.
What are you doing?
What do you mean
what am I doing?
I mean what are you doing?
I kissed you.
I know you kissed me.
Why'd you stop?
I didn't stop;
you stopped.
I didn't stop...
Kiss me again.
Don't tell me
what to do.
Don't ever tell
me what to do.
Okay.
(thunder rumbling)
(train cars rattling
in distance)
(chuckles)
Good morning.
(grunts)
(chuckles)
Faker.
(door closes)
Morning.
CHUCK:
Hey, Gare.
(shower running)
Gare, it's me.
(knocking)
Gare, wake up.
Gare?
Chuck, go away.
What? I can't hear you.
I said go away.
What's wrong?
Are you sick?
I'm busy.
Doing what?
Hey.
Gare...?
Oh...
Oh...
(Meredith singing
to herself)
(train passing in distance)
(distant car horns honk)
Hey.
Hey, good morning.
(cat meows)
(paper thudding
against door)
Gary?
(meows)
GARY (shouting):
Hello, down there!
Hey, do you want coffee?
Uh, yeah, black.
(sighs)
You want cream?
Uh, black.
Sugar?
Black, please.
So, you, uh, you want
it just black, then?
Uh, yeah, black would be good.
(cat meows)
That's what
I thought.
Hey, buddy, how're you doing?
Hey, how are you doing today?
Huh, how are...?
What are you doing here?
(meows)
Don't read that.
We're not going to play
this game again, are we?
I just don't like people
reading my paper.
Why?
I'm a reporter.
You're serious about this,
aren't you?
Okay.
What is it?
I-I...
Look, I-I can't explain this.
I'm a big girl.
I can take it.
Who? The wife?
The silence
is killing me.
Come on, what?
Yes, no?
Look, I can't do this.
I'm sorry.
Where you going?
I'm going to work.
I'm going to do my job.
(kettle whistling)
Your coffee's ready.
(door closes)
I don't want
it anymore!
You hear me?
Good morning, sir.
Good morning.
No paper today?
Nope.
♪ ♪
HARRY:
Well, if it isn't
the ever elusive Miss Carson.
Not today, Harry.
You never call,
you never write.
Especially
you never write.
Where you been?
Meeting didn't happen,
contact didn't show.
That would be yesterday;
now it's today.
I had a rough night, okay?
I'm so tired of this--
chasing air.
I know more about the people
I write about than mysel....
I think I'm going to retire...
someplace peaceful.
Someplace where
there's no men.
Oh, butt out.
You're not
going to retire.
Want to bet?
You're all newspaper,
kid, it's in your blood.
You couldn't retire
if you wanted to.
Try me.
Coffee's cold.
Tonight?
Hey, Jimmy, this story
you wrote-- what happened?
Happened to what?
I read it this morning.
It said the budget passed.
You're joking, right?
No.
They don't vote
till tonight.
Besides, the council's
made up their mind.
It doesn't
stand a chance.
Carson, maybe you ought
to take up smoking again.
Miss Carson?
Yeah.
There's a
message for you.
Not now.
He said it's important.
Don't care.
Some guy named Richie.
He called from
downstairs in the lobby.
He said you--
he said you'd want to know.
(elevator bell dinging)
Hey, hold it.
What floor?
Lobby.
Hey, I said lobby.
(squeaking)
Sorry, cupcake, no can do.
Where's Richie?
Richie ain't anywhere.
That message you got
was from us.
So, where you guys
taking me?
Dinner and drinks? Or how
about the trunk of your car?
Neither. The car went dead
three blocks from here.
Carburetor problems.
Sorry to hear
that, boys.
Here's going
to have to do.
Open it up.
(mouse squeaking)
Check it out.
Let's talk.
Okay.
What do you want
to talk about?
Sports? Philosophy?
How about Red Cooper?
We want to know
what Richie told you.
Sorry, not much.
Yeah, that's
what Richie said,
but we didn't
believe him.
If you think you're gonna
intimidate me with
that $20.00 jacket,
you don't know who you're
dealing with.
(indistinct chatter)
(whispers):
The stairs.
Meredith?
Meredith?
It's not your color, okay?
Nice shot.
Thanks.
What are you
doing here?
Well, I missed you.
I'm supposed
to believe that?
Come on, come
on, come on.
What's this?
Where?
There.
In here.
Oh, this is cozy.
This is kind of like
Tales From The Crypt.
All right.
We got 'em now.
Okay.
What now?
In about ten minutes,
the night watchman comes
and finds our bodies.
What?
Well, if there were
a night watchman,
in about ten minutes,
he'd come and find our bodies.
You do know something,
don't you?
We're going to die.
It's in the paper,
isn't it?
Isn't it?
I thought the guy
in the paper was Richie.
I was wrong.
Fooled again.
And if you had known?
I'd have come, anyway.
(pounding on door)
Can't you do any better
than that?
I'm working it.
I'll do it myself.
You want to know
something ironic?
I'm holding the scoop
of the century here,
and I don't even care.
(muffled pounding)
(pounding continues)
What's this?
(pounding continues)
Burn.
No, wait! The paper?
I knew it was good
for something.
(pounding continues)
All right, now,
get us out of here.
(alarm blaring)
What's that?
Call it in.
I'll be back.
(alarm continues)
Forget it.
Hold it. Whoa.
What'd we do?!
(alarm blaring)
I guess I got a
story to file.
Yeah.
What time are you
going to be done?
In time for dinner.
Okay.
Okay.
You going to tell me
about it?
About what?
The paper.
I thought you didn't care
about the paper.
Well, I thought
we were going to die.
No comment.
I gotta go.
MORRIS:
So she nailed them, did she?
That's our girl, Meredith.
Don't stop till
you bring 'em down.
And this...
belonged to old man
Snow, you say?
That'd be like him.
Play things close,
you know.
And he lived
at Brown's?
Far as I know.
Most of his life,
anyway.
Except toward
the end.
He moved about
a year ago.
He-he moved?
Couldn't quite
figure out why.
Funny guy, that Snow.
Where did he move?
(mumbling)
DOORMAN:
Ah, there you go.
I knew she was back
here somewhere.
A trunk?
I was hoping for at least
a sack full of cash.
This is where it's been
the whole time?
In your hotel?
Figures.
Wait, wait a second.
You mean,
you knew this guy?
Old man Snow?
Oh, sure did.
He died the day
before you moved in.
12 bucks.
Oh.
Business is
business.
12 bucks?
There you go.
Good luck.
You know what?
I've been waiting
for something like this
ever since the paper
started coming.
And now that it's here,
I'm not so sure I want to know.
Maybe you're supposed
to know.
(purring)
(hinges creaking)
What is it?
What is it?
(meows)
(clicking)
Like I said, kid,
you're all...
newspaper.
Shut up, Harry.
Good night.
Good night.
(distant siren wailing)
(phone line ringing)
(ringing continues)
You're, uh, not hungry
by chance, are you?
Moo goo gai pan from Woo Ling's.
It's the best food in town.
Hi.
Hi.