THE MENTALIST "Color Me Red"
written by Jessica Van den Ancker
**** ***** Road **********, FL ***** ***-***-**** jessica@jessicavandenancker.com
TEASER EXT. VACAVILLE PREMIUM OUTLETS. PARKING LOT - NIGHT Towards the back corner of the shops, black and whites send strobes of red and blue into the darkness. A coroner’s van looms ominously. UNIFORMS and FORENSIC TECHS mill about, disappearing and reappearing behind the shopping center. JANE carves his way through the crowd, and rounds the corner behind the shops. He ducks under crime scene tape to join LISBON, who chats with LT. BILL PRATHER, 57, wiry and leather-skinned like a weathered book. Jane greets Lisbon with a smile. JANE Lovely evening. Interrupted, Lisbon and Prather eye Jane. LISBON Yes. Murder in the evening. Just takes your breath away. Prather raises an eyebrow. PRATHER This your guy? Lisbon stares flatly at Jane. Jane turns to Prather. JANE Patrick Jane, CBI Consultant. Prather extends a hand to Jane, who takes it. PRATHER Lt. Bill Prather. While shaking hands, Jane and Prather size each other up. LISBON Lt. Prather was just telling me about the victim. Oh?
JANE
Prather lets go of Jane’s hand first.
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PRATHER But something tells me you’d rather see the body. JANE I wouldn’t miss it. Prather throws Lisbon a questioning glance; gets nothing. He heads toward a wooded area in the distance. Jane and Lisbon follow. EXT. VACAVILLE PREMIUM OUTLETS. WOODED AREA - NIGHT Jane, Lisbon, and Prather stop short of an ARM, which pokes out from the treeline. Foliage obscures CHO and the MEDICAL EXAMINER, 38, a stout lady reminiscent of Scooby Doo’s Velma, who kneel around the corpse. PRATHER Vic’s name is Harold Marsden, 48. Some biotech bigwig. LISBON Married, two kids. Jane steps into the treeline, where he discerns breaks in the foliage. Jane squats next to the victim’s torso. Cho separates Jane from the M.E., who works near the victim’s head. Jane notes HAROLD MARSDEN’s athletic build, pristine fingernails, sculpted eyebrows, and disheveled but smart attire. Jane points to a bloody gouge in Marsden’s neck. JANE I presume that is-CHO (interrupting) The fatal wound. Or a horrible shaving accident. Jane chuckles softly. The M.E. gives Cho and Jane a disapproving look. Jane quiets. Cho doesn’t react, so the M.E. leans a bit forward, toward Jane. MEDICAL EXAMINER A small, pointed object punctured the carotid. (MORE)
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MEDICAL EXAMINER (CONT'D) Edges appear too jagged for an ice pick. And a bit too wide. Knife?
JANE
The M.E. shakes her head. MEDICAL EXAMINER Definitely not a knife. Would’ve made a bigger slit. The M.E. fingers the wound with a gloved hand, then looks up, considering. MEDICAL EXAMINER (CONT’D) Perhaps a small metal file. Jane nods, taking in the body. CHO Body’s still warm. Hasn’t been here long. MEDICAL EXAMINER I agree. Rigor typically starts at the head in roughly three to four hours. But I can still liberally move his neck. The M.E. grips Marsden’s head and moves it from side to side. Bothered, Jane studies the ground. JANE Too bad it’s been so dry. Cho gauges the surroundings. CHO Yeah. No footprints. Jane nods, then looks up, past the treeline. He notices RIGSBY and VAN PELT, dressed in date-night clothes. EXT. VACAVILLE PREMIUM OUTLETS. PARKING LOT - NIGHT Jane approaches Rigsby and Van Pelt, who avert their eyes. Jane claps. Like animals following the noise, Rigsby and Van Pelt acknowledge Jane. A few Uniforms glare at him.
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JANE You two look smashing. Jane turns to Rigsby, then nods at Van Pelt. JANE (CONT’D) Where’d you take her? Us?
RIGSBY
Rigsby points back and forth from himself to Van Pelt. RIGSBY (CONT’D) We weren’t together. JANE Melting Pot? Mason’s? RIGSBY Really, man. We weren’t together. Biba?
JANE
Rigsby examines his feet. Jane turns to Van Pelt, who shifts her weight, crosses her arms and steels her gaze. JANE (CONT’D) Supper Club. RIGSBY I was at my cousin’s wedding. JANE Of course... What do you two make of the victim? Relieved, Rigsby calms. RIGSBY He was probably into something he shouldn’t have been into. Maybe drugs. JANE Who found the body? VAN PELT A man walking his dog. He unleashed him to do his business, and the dog tore off through the woods. When the owner found him, the dog was whining next to the body.
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"Color Me Red"
RIGSBY The owner was clean. The locals cut him loose about an hour ago. Jane processes, gears turning. JANE The Firehouse. Rigsby sneaks a glance at Van Pelt. Van Pelt blushes. JANE (CONT’D) The Firehouse it is. RIGSBY What does The Firehouse have to do with the victim? JANE Since your and Van Pelt’s romantic evening at The Firehouse was rudely interrupted, I’ll bet you dinner for two at The Firehouse that we’re dealing with a crime of passion. Jane offers a hand toward Rigsby, who gives it a manly shake. You’re on.
RIGSBY
Jane smiles. Van Pelt rolls her eyes. END OF TEASER
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ACT ONE EXT. MARSDEN HOME. VACAVILLE - ESTABLISHING - DAY An expansive two-story, early twentieth-century hybrid between an American farmhouse and a folk Victorian, complete with centered front gable and a columned porch spanning the length of the house. INT. LIVING ROOM. MARSDEN HOME - DAY Jane circles the furniture, situated in the middle of the room. Lisbon sits next to GINA MARSDEN, 43, dressed to the nines and showing less emotion than flea dirt, on an overstuffed leather sofa. Van Pelt perches atop the matching love seat. Jane plunks onto the matching chair, opposite Van Pelt. Lisbon, Van Pelt, and Gina eye Jane. JANE Don’t mind me. Lisbon raises an eyebrow. LISBON I’m so sorry for your loss, Mrs. Marsden. Uncomfortable, Gina studies the sofa cushion. LISBON (CONT’D) Do you know anyone who would’ve wanted to hurt your husband? Gina, alert, meets Lisbon’s stare. GINA No. Everybody loved Harry. Jane eyes the room, modern but lived in. Scads of family photos, mostly of Marsden and twin teenage daughters, Sarah and Michelle, adorn the room. Jane springs off the chair and grabs one of the photos of Marsden and the girls. JANE They were close? Gina blinks. Sadness fills her eyes for an instant.
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GINA They worshiped him. Gina sighs. GINA (CONT’D) I don’t know what they’re going to do now. JANE Thankfully, they still have you. Gina looks wryly at Jane, who meets her gaze. Jane replaces the photo, then wanders off. INT. MASTER BEDROOM. MARSDEN HOME - DAY Devoid of color or pictures, sterile. Jane sits on the edge of the king-sized bed, pushing down into the mattress with each of his palms. He lies down, making himself comfortable. He inchworms to the other side. While propping himself to a sitting position, he again assesses the mattress with his palms. Satisfied, he flips his legs over the side, then pops to his feet. Jane approaches the closet, opens the door and peers in. INT. MASTER CLOSET. MARSDEN HOME - DAY A massive walk-in. Jane spins around, observing all angles. Marsden’s clothes, neatly arranged by length and color, occupy as much space as Gina’s. Jane bends down to a duffel-sized impression, which mars the thick carpet on Marsden’s side. He runs a hand along the impression. Jane stands, exits and closes the door behind him. INT. MASTER BATHROOM. MARSDEN HOME - DAY A large glass shower faces dual sinks. Jane spies into the cabinets, where equal parts his and hers beauty products line the shelves. He picks up a bottle of lotion and smells it. He makes a face and returns it to the shelf.
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INT. LIVING ROOM. MARSDEN HOME - DAY Lisbon and Van Pelt sit with Gina. LISBON When did you last see your husband? GINA Yesterday morning. Before he left for work. LISBON Did he say anything or do anything that was unusual? Gina contemplates. GINA Now that you mention it, he did seem a little agitated. Van Pelt leans forward, toward Gina. How so?
VAN PELT
GINA Well, I’m not the best cook, but for as long as I can remember, I’ve sent that man off to work with breakfast in his belly. Yesterday, I asked him three times if he wanted bacon and eggs, and three times I got an “uh-huh.” VAN PELT And that was unusual? GINA Not really. But when I put the plate in front of him, he looked at me as if I had just sprouted a second head. Said he didn’t have time for breakfast. Something about preparing for an important meeting. LISBON Did he mention anything else about the meeting? Who he was going to meet? A small exhale of amusement escapes Gina.
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GINA I’m not really the betting kind, but I’d guess he was meeting with Mathis Bering, because he kept cursing Bering’s name under his breath. Lisbon eyes Gina. LISBON Bering worked with your husband at Symbiodyne, correct? Gina nods. Lisbon pulls out her phone. Excuse me.
LISBON (CONT’D)
Lisbon turns away from Gina and dials. INT. BULLPEN. CBI HQ - DAY Cho and Rigsby work at their desks. Cho’s PHONE RINGS. Yeah, boss.
CHO
INT. LIVING ROOM. MARSDEN HOME - DAY Lisbon holds her phone to an ear. LISBON Take Rigsby and head to Symbiodyne. Yesterday morning, Marsden was acting peculiar about a meeting he was supposed to have with Mathis Bering. INT. BULLPEN. CBI HQ - DAY Cho scribbles onto a note pad. CHO Symbiodyne. Bering. Got it. Cho hangs up, stands and grabs Rigsby. Let’s go.
CHO (CONT’D)
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Cho and Rigsby head out. INT. STAIRCASE. MARSDEN HOME - DAY Jane glides up the antique oak staircase, which looks newly restored. He notes a scuff on the otherwise pristine banister. INT. SARAH’S ROOM. MARSDEN HOME - DAY Jane steps into the room. Neatly appointed, books line dustfree shelves. Scholastic awards, family photos, and posters of horses adorn the walls. Jane exits. INT. MICHELLE’S ROOM. MARSDEN HOME - DAY Jane saunters into the room. The polar opposite of Sarah’s. Scattered clothing, magazines, and an out-of-place throw rug obscures the carpeting. Dodging the clutter on the floor, Jane heads for the dresser. A training schedule hangs at the top of the dresser mirror. Hand-cut, decorated photos of the Twins and Dad at various running events edge the remainder of the mirror. MICHELLE MARSDEN and SARAH MARSDEN, 16, athletic, prom-queen material, enter, frantic. MICHELLE Who are you? Jane flashes a warm smile. JANE Patrick Jane, CBI. I was just admiring your photos. The Twins exchange pained looks. Tears stream down Sarah’s cheeks. Concern pours over Jane’s face. JANE (CONT’D) I’m so sorry about your dad. Sarah’s tears turn into sobs. Michelle hugs her sister. JANE (CONT’D) How about I make you two some tea?
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INT. KITCHEN. MARSDEN HOME - DAY Jane sweeps around as if he owns the place. Sarah and Michelle, eyes distant, sit at a small table opposite the island, which houses the stove. Jane searches for tea supplies and stumbles onto the recycler, packed to the brim with empty wine bottles. He continues searching until he finds the tea, where he chooses a calming blend of camomile. JANE I need to ask you guys some questions. Is that okay? Jane fills the kettle, then places it onto the stove. Michelle, eyes still miles away, nods slightly. Sarah doesn’t respond. JANE (CONT’D) I couldn’t help but notice all the photos of just the two of you and your dad. I’m guessing you two were closer with him? Sarah’s tears resume. Michelle looks pained. Yeah.
MICHELLE
JANE How did your mom and dad get along? Were they happy? The girls share a glance. I guess.
MICHELLE
Jane searches the cabinets and produces three ceramic mugs. He sits them atop the island, next to the stove, and deposits a tea bag into each cup. JANE Were they affectionate? No response. The KETTLE WHISTLES. Jane snatches it from the stove and pours water into all three cups. He walks two mugs to the girls, returns to the island and fetches his own cup. Lisbon, Van Pelt, and Gina enter.
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JANE (CONT’D) Ah, Gina. Just the person I’d like to see. Jane takes a sip. Lisbon slings a warning glare at Jane. Gina looks confused. Van Pelt looks concerned. JANE (CONT’D) How were things between you and your husband... Jane covers his mouth away from the girls. He whispers. JANE (CONT’D) In the bedroom. Appalled, Gina turns wide eyes to Jane, then faces Lisbon. GINA Is he for real? Lisbon’s face wilts. Afraid so.
LISBON
Gina turns back to Jane. GINA That’s none of your business. JANE So you don’t deny you had a sexless marriage. Gina flushes and eyes the girls, who gape uncomfortably in the b.g. Fuming, Gina faces Jane. GINA You need to go. Now. JANE It’s a valid question. Gina points to the exit. Go. Now.
GINA
Lisbon grabs Jane’s arm, nearly causing him to spill his tea.
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LISBON We’ll be in touch, Mrs. Marsden. Jane CLANKS his cup on the island as Lisbon rushes him out. INT. SYMBIODYNE OFFICE. RECEPTION. VACAVILLE - DAY Cho and Rigsby sit in small slipper chairs. Cho leafs through a copy of The Journal of Biotechnology Chemistry. RIGSBY Grace and I had a date last night. Rigsby looks to Cho, who stares at the magazine. CHO I don’t want to know this. Rigsby’s face contorts, pained. RIGSBY I think Jane knows. MATHIS BERING, 52, a small man with the face of a bulldog, approaches. Gentlemen.
BERING
Cho and Rigsby stand. INT. BERING’S OFFICE. SYMBIODYNE - DAY Rigsby, Cho, and Bering step into Bering’s office. Spacious, with two smaller, low-to-the-ground executive-style chairs opposite a cavernous desk. Bering waves Rigsby and Cho to the two chairs, then sits behind his desk. Bering looks down at Cho and Rigsby. BERING How can I help you, gentlemen? CHO You and Marsden had a meeting yesterday. Marsden was troubled about it. What was that about? BERING Direct. I like that. Cho doesn’t blink.
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RIGSBY Answer the question. BERING A difference of opinion about where the company is headed. Nothing more. Bering picks up a pen with his right hand, but his gaze shifts down and to the left; he clearly lies. CHO So you and Marsden clashed heads. About what? BERING Marsden didn’t want to pursue a particular kind of project. Cho and Rigsby perk up. RIGSBY What kind of project? BERING I think the better question here is why Marsden left my office in such a rush. Cho and Rigsby share a look. I’ll bite.
CHO
BERING He was meeting someone... Ben Sommers. INT. LISBON’S OFFICE. CBI HQ - DAY BERTRAM barges into Lisbon’s office. BERTRAM I just received a rather unpleasant call from Gina Marsden. Lisbon grimaces. LISBON Let me guess. Jane.
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BERTRAM Did he really question her about her sex life? LISBON You know his ways are... different, but effective. BERTRAM Be that as it may, Jane is not to go near the Marsden home. Understand? Yes, sir.
LISBON
Bertram heads out, pausing at the door. BERTRAM Any missteps, and I’ll hold you personally accountable. Bertram exits. Lisbon sighs. INT. BULLPEN. CBI HQ - DAY Jane, eyes closed, lounges on his couch. Van Pelt, Cho, and Rigsby work in the b.g. Lisbon approaches Jane. She hovers over him. Yes?
JANE
Lisbon stares at Jane until he opens his eyes. LISBON Bertram just paid me a visit. JANE Ah. An unhappy call from Mrs. Marsden? Jane props onto his elbows. Cho keeps working, but Van Pelt and Rigsby tune in. LISBON Yeah. Go figure. JANE I don’t know why she was so upset. It was a valid question.
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Lisbon’s posture folds. LISBON Do me a favor. No more trips to the Marsdens’. Okay? Jane sits up. Of course.
JANE
INT. VAN PELT’S DESK. BULLPEN. CBI HQ - DAY Van Pelt speaks into her headset and CLACKS at her keyboard, then writes furiously onto a sticky note. Thank you.
VAN PELT
Van Pelt hangs up the phone. VAN PELT (CONT’D) I found Sommers. INT. BULLPEN. CBI HQ - DAY All eyes turn to Van Pelt. Lisbon gives Jane a final look before heading to Van Pelt’s desk. LISBON Whataya got? VAN PELT Sommers is a drug rep. I just got off the line with his boss. He’s at a doctor’s office between here and Vacaville. I have an address. Van Pelt hands Lisbon a sticky note. Lisbon scrutinizes it without looking up. LISBON Cho, Rigsby. Check it out. Lisbon holds the sticky note up for grabs. Cho and Rigsby stand at attention. Jane springs to his feet and snatches the sticky from Lisbon. Shotgun.
JANE
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Jane smiles as he holds up the note. Cho looks stoic but spins a set of keys on his index finger. CHO I’m driving. Rigsby sighs. EXT. COMMERCIAL STREET - DAY The CBI SUV parks. Jane, Cho, and Rigsby exit. EXT. STRIP MALL - ESTABLISHING - DAY Well-groomed shops and restaurants, with wide sidewalks adorned with benches. EXT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE. STRIP MALL - DAY Cho and Rigsby find a nearby bench and park. Jane keeps moving. RIGSBY Where are you going? For tea.
JANE
Jane walks next door to a restaurant. Rigsby calls after him. RIGSBY It’s like three thousand degrees out here! EXT. OUTDOOR TERRACE. RESTAURANT - DAY A HOSTESS, 22, pretty, seats Jane at one of the outermost tables. He chooses a seat facing the sidewalk. She hands Jane a menu, then disappears. Jane examines the menu. JUMP CUT TO: A WAITER, 30, reminiscent of a tall, thin penguin, drops off a cup and saucer, a box of assorted teas, and a small metal kettle. Jane smiles.
THE MENTALIST
Thank you.
"Color Me Red"
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JANE
The Waiter saunters off without a word. Jane selects a tea bag from the box, plunks it into the cup and fills it with steaming water. EXT. DOCTOR’S OFFICE. STRIP MALL - DAY Rigsby stands up from the bench. He impatiently paces. RIGSBY Whataya think Jane knows? About what?
CHO
Rigsby stops and faces Cho. RIGSBY Me and Grace. Cho continues eyeing the entrance to the doctor’s office. CHO That you’re an idiot. Rigsby resumes pacing. RIGSBY Of course he knows. He’s gotta know. Cho shakes his head. BEN SOMMERS, 35, a svelte sex god in a drug rep disguise, exits. Cho and Rigsby present their badges. CHO Ben Sommers? Sommers scans from Cho to Rigsby, drops his sample case and tears off, running in the direction of the restaurant. EXT. OUTDOOR TERRACE. RESTAURANT - DAY Jane watches as Sommers nears his table. As Sommers approaches, Jane uses his legs to push the opposite chair into Sommers’s path. Sommers hits the chair full bore and face plants onto the concrete.
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Breathless, Rigsby hoists Sommers up. Rigsby cuffs Sommers, then smirks at Jane. Cho strolls up, Sommers’s sample case in hand. RIGSBY (to Jane) Still feeling good about that “crime of passion” theory? Sweat trailing down his face, Rigsby beams. Dejected, Sommers sinks in on himself. Rigsby angles Sommers toward the SUV. Cho follows with the case. Jane calls after Rigsby and Cho, then scrambles to fetch the Waiter, who looks less than enthused. JANE More than ever. END OF ACT ONE