THE GHOST OF TAHQUITZ

By Scott Hays
January 1, 2003
WGA No. 690713

A DRUM. Beating slow. And deep. Like a heart.

FADE IN: THE GREAT CALIFORNIA DESERT - DAWN

The early morning sun casts its warmth over the desert just outside Palm Springs, California. From high atop TAHQUITZ MOUNTAIN, WE SEE a valley and the desert plain flare up and then suddenly drop away.

The mountain starts to turn silvery-white like mercury, the sun's vapors a reddish-orange creating an eerie blend of colors and elements. It's a spectacular sunrise.

Suddenly, DARK CLOUDS start to appear on the horizon. Then A RUMBLING so loud we almost expect to see a herd of buffalo running. Seconds later the earth vibrates. EARTHQUAKE!

INT. FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE JEEP - EARLY MORNING

An earthquake is just starting to subside, leaving behind a deep, disturbing stillness.

The finish to a Del Mar Thoroughbred race on the Jeep's radio shatters the silence.

WE SEE the fine print of a daily racing form by the dull white glow of an interior lamp. A MALE HAND circles "Loser's Streak" in the sixth until his pencil SNAPS.

EXT. TAHQUITZ MOUNTAIN - EARLY MORNING

WE SEE crime scene images in the flashes of a photographer's strobe.

FLASH-A grotto about the size of a child's playhouse on the mountain's edge.

FLASH-Horse flies circling. . . something.

FLASH-A nude body, male, laid out flat on its stomach, arms crossed above its head.

FLASH-Pooled blood on the ground.

INT. FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE JEEP - SAME

Local FBI agent GEO MCCRACKEN-mid 30's, strong jaw, hair the color of wet sand-wipes the lack-of-sleep from his eyes, takes another sip of coffee and rolls his daily racing form into a tight scroll. He steps outside his Jeep, deep into desert dust.

EXT. FOUR-WHEEL DRIVE JEEP - SAME

A tumbleweed skitters across the desert floor, a malevolent weedball with thorny arms that takes a stab at GEO’S leg. He spills coffee on his jeans.

BEGIN CREDITS END

WOMAN'S VOICE (O.S.)
It's the Ghost of Tahquitz.

GEO
What's that?

Out of the brush steps local tribal law enforcement officer MONICA CIELO, late 20's, a Cahuilla descendent with skin the color of sun tea, and a body built for gymnastics.

CIELO
The Ghost of Tahquitz. They say he
Lives in these hills, brings death and
Destruction to those who venture too
close. He's probably responsible for
that coffee stain.

A coffee stain the size of an oil spill has spread over GEO’S crotch.

GEO
Coroner's office been called?

CIELO
Already here. Expected you thirty
minutes ago.

GEO
I know you're new to the job, and eager,
but this now falls under FBI jurisdiction
not the Tribal PD. I work at my own pace.

CIELO
We're still on Indian land. These people
are extremely distrustful of outsiders, especially non-Indians.

GEO
I'm not interested in politics.

She leads him down unpaved trails that crisscross the desert like roadrunner tracks. Heavy rope stretched over berm and down the trails helps guide them to where an FBI field investigator and several local tribal police investigators work the crime scene.

Wind kicks up and sends a whirlwind of dust. They walk past Tribal Police Sergeant CHICO DIAZ-mid 20's, short, squat, balding and a Cahuilla descendent-whose taking a leak.

GEO
Goddamn it! You're jeopardizing the
integrity of the crime scene. What's
your name, son?

CHICO
Tribal Police Sergeant Chico Diaz, sir.

GEO
Well Tribal Police Sergeant Chico Diaz,
if you gotta go, my friend, shake it in
the bushes over there- away from the
crime scene. Okay?

CHICO
Yes sir!

Geo scans the perimeter-dirt, dry and hard. No depressions.

GEO
How long has he been here?

CIELO
Not long, but he's ice cold to the
touch. It's like a meat box up here.

With RADIOS TRANSMITTING, FBI forensics investigator FRANK PISTOLE, mid-40ish with a nervous twitch, examines the corpse.

FRANK
(deadpan)
Margins along the cut edges look clean.
Someone with a sharp weapon and a steady hand.

GEO
Anyone here smoke? I saw a match book on
the ground over there. Make sure we bag
it. Bad guys in a panic tend to think
in only two dimensions.

FRANK turns over the body.

WE SEE that the sexual organs have been cut away-COMPLETE excision, COMPLETE emasculation. The body's mouth and eyes remain open in a ghastly countenance.

CIELO
Sweet Jesus!

CIELO steps forward and slowly circles the body.

FRANK
It's Jimmy Nichols. What sort of sick fuck
would do something like this.

CIELO
Someone familiar with Indian culture.

GEO looks at CIELO, impressed.

CIELO (cont’d)
It's an ancient cultural belief that if
a dead man is turned face down, his
spirit will never leave his body.

FRANK
Hell, we could have another tribal war
on our hands. Remember last year at the
Barona Reservation? Two leaders murdered
for complaining they weren't getting
their fair share of gambling profits.

CIELO
That's one isolated case.

FRANK
I'm just saying. . .

GEO bends down to examine the body. He swats away the horse flies with his racing form.

GEO
There's something in his mouth.

FRANK reaches inside the body's mouth with a pair of tweezers, pulls out a white $100 clay casino chip and bags it.

FRANK
It's a poker chip.

GEO
Who found the body?

FRANK
Some old blind guy and his dog. Another
day and coyotes would have had a feast.
Really, pure luck he spotted the body.

CIELO
They call him Eagle Eye. He's a Cahuilla
descendant, like myself. He's legally
blind, that's true.

FRANK
A blind man named Eagle Eye?

CIELO
He sees things where others don't.

GEO
Let's go meet this Eagle Eye.

CUT TO:

EAGLE EYE, 60’s, hands large and leathery as old saddlebags, hair braided in a ponytail. He wears thick, bottle-top glasses.

He tests the single-edged steel blade of a knife with his thumb, looks approvingly at the blurry line of blood. He then throws the knife at the nearest tree trunk where it STICKS, quivering for a moment.

GEO
Hope that wasn't meant for me?

GEO, CIELO and FRANK step out from behind sagebrush

EAGLE EYE
This knife belonged to a great chief.
It always finds its mark so never
surprise an old man.

GEO
Wouldn't dare, old man. Especially
one who has such a fine watchdog.

EAGLE EYE’S dog, old Louie, hasn't moved an inch.

FRANK
FBI, sir. Would you please hand me
the knife?

EAGLE EYE yanks his knife from the tree trunk, carefully wipes the blade on his jeans.

EAGLE EYE
Son, I cherish this knife more than
I did my wife.

GEO
(to FRANK)
He can keep the knife.
(beat)
Mr. Eagle Eye, I'm Geo McCracken
with the FBI. I’d like to ask you a few
questions, if you don’t mind.

EAGLE EYE plants himself on a sitting rock, removes his glasses and rubs his eyes.

EAGLE EYE
That, back there, is what gambling
brings to my people. No one deserves
to die that way. Death should be a
secret between man and nature, not
perverted for greed.

CIELO
What's this got to do with casino
business?

EAGLE EYE
A coyote who is always hungry, who
never has enough, is out of harmony
with his spiritual nature.

FRANK
This tribal warfare crap has got to
end. You're not living in buckskins
anymore.

EAGLE EYE
I had this vision some time ago, uh, back in the Fall.

A large green-brown lizard scurries across the desert floor.

EAGLE EYE (cont’d)
Two big fish in a mud puddle were feeding off crumbs.
(beat)
My people are killing each other for crumbs.

EAGLE EYE
Two casinos owned by two different
tribes competing for limited dollars-two
big fish in a mud puddle feeding off crumbs.

 

EAGLE EYE gestures with his hand indicating a fish swimming.

A strange little wind whips over the desert, hissing like a coiled rattler. Moments later old Louie stretches his neck and yelps, then slumps to the ground, jerks and twists, tries to drag his body across the desert floor. Foam drools from the dog's mouth and tongue.

EAGLE EYE walks over to old Louie, strokes the dog's head.

GEO pulls a blanket from the back of his Jeep, hands it to EAGLE EYE to bundle up old Louie.

GEO
Come on, old man. I'll give you a
ride home. We can talk on the way.