Little Girl Who Lives Down The Lane Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Little Girl Who Lives Down The Lane script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Jodie Foster and Martin Sheen movie.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Little Girl Who Lives Down The Lane. I know, I know, I still need to get the cast names in there and I'll be eternally tweaking it, so if you have any corrections, feel free to drop me a line. You won't hurt my feelings. Honest.

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Little Girl Who Lives Down The Lane Script


  

  

 

                   

Happy birthday.



 

                   

Who is it?



 

                   

- Mr. Jacobs?

- Yes?



 

                   

Itís me, Frank Hallet.



 

                   

Hallet?



 

                   

- Trick or treat!

- What?



 

                   

Trick or treat!



 

                   

Itís Halloween, young lady.

Why arenít you out trick-or-treating?



 

                   

Oh, somebodyís birthday.



  

                   

- Whose, yours?

- Yes.



  

                   

- Well, happy birthday.

- Thank you.



  

                   

And besides your birthday,

itís also Halloween.



  

                   

Can I tell my father what you want?



  

                   

My nameís Frank Hallet.

Your father knows me.



  

                   

My two kids will be along.

Theyíre trick-or-treating.



  

                   

I'm just going along to make sure...



  

                   

...there arenít any real goblins

hanging around.



  

                   

Like dirty old men who try to give

pretty little girls some candy.



  

                   

Tell your father youíve got company.



  

                   

You better shut the door.

You'll let all the heat out of the house.



  

                   

I've seen you around,

but weíve never met, have we?



  

                   

- You came over from England, right?

- Right.



  

                   

And they donít celebrate

Halloween in England?



  

                   

No.



  

                   

Itís a big day here...



  

                   

...when all the kids get dressed up

in costumes and masks...



  

                   

...and go around to all the houses...



  

                   

...and shout, "Trick or treat!"



  

                   

And youíre supposed to act scared.



  

                   

And if you donít give them a treat,

they pull some dirty trick on you.



  

                   

You mean, no trick-or-treaters

have been by here tonight?



  

                   

Well, there will be. My two kids

will be along here any minute.



  

                   

Oneís a green skeleton and

the otherís a Frankenstein monster.



  

                   

Whatís considered a treat?



  

                   

Candy, popcorn, gum,

anything like that.



  

                   

Would they like a piece of cake?



  

                   

But thatís your birthday cake.



  

                   

You shouldnít cut it just for them.



  

                   

Bravo.



  

                   

Whereís your mother?



  

                   

My motherís dead.



  

                   

But your fatherís here.



  

                   

He smokes French cigarettes, right?



  

                   

Am I right about

the French cigarettes?



  

                   

Yeah.



  

                   

Where is he, upstairs?



  

                   

Your fatherís upstairs?



  

                   

- No, heís in his study, working.

- Oh, yes. Heís a poet.



  

                   

My mother says heís a poet.



  

                   

And whatever my mother says

automatically has to be true.



  

                   

It wouldnít dare not be.



  

                   

My motherís the lady that leased

this place to you and your father.



  

                   

Oh, thatís great.



  

                   

The kids are gonna love this.



  

                   

Are my hands cold?



  

                   

Youíre   ?



  

                   

I counted    candles.



  

                   

- Thatís all I had.

- Youíre   ?



  

                   

L"II bet you write poetry too.



  

                   

I'd like to read

your poems sometime.



  

                   

Just you and your father live here?

Just you two?



  

                   

Yeah.



  

                   

And I'll bet this is

his favorite chair, isnít it?



  

                   

Yeah.



  

                   

Whatíve you got there?

What is that, a hamster?



  

                   

Oh, let me see.



  

                   

Well, I just wanna see.



  

                   

Whatís his name?



  

                   

Oh, come on. Heís gotta have a name.

Tell me his name.



  

                   

Gordon.



  

                   

Gordon? Heís cute.



  

                   

Shouldnít you tell

your father I'm here?



  

                   

No, not when heís working.



  

                   

Youíre a very pretty girl,

you know that?



  

                   

Pretty eyes.



  

                   

Pretty hair.



  

                   

Pretty girl like you,

and your birthday and all...



  

                   

No boyfriend?



  

                   

Come on,

Iíll bet you got a boyfriend.



  

                   

L"II bet you got lots of boyfriends,

pretty girl like you.



  

                   

Itís okay. Itís all right. Relax.



  

                   

I get to spank you on your birthday.

Thatís a custom here.



  

                   

Yes, you get one spank for every year,

and one to grown on.



  

                   

See, you got off easy.



  

                   

Now, donít get mad.

Itís just a game.



  

                   

Itís just a silly birthday game,

thatís all.



  

                   

You donít think I was trying to

be fresh, do you? Donít be silly.



  

                   

Iíve got two kids of my own, you know,

and they'll be along any minute.



  

                   

Here they come now, even.

Well, Iím off.



  

                   

Thank you for the treats.



  

                   

No trick on you tonight.



  

                   

Hello, boys!



  

                   

Tell your father Iím sorry

I missed him. Good night.



  

                   

Hey, I've got some treats for you.



  

                   

There we go.

One for you and one for you.



  

                   

Come on, boys, letís go.

Happy birthday!



  

                   

Come on, boys, letís go, go, go.



  

                   

Jacobs, Lester and Jacobs, Rynn.



  

                   

Thatís me.



   

                   

Itís what you call a joint account.



   

                   

Sign here, please.



   

                   

- Have you got your key?

- Right here.



   

                   

You can take it into

one of these booths.



   

                   

Yes, I know. Thank you.



   

                   

Sign your name again, please.



   

                   

Sheís only   .



   

                   

My father has an account here.

Lester Jacobs.



   

                   

Next, please?



   

                   

Could I have that paper

with my signature on it, please?



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

Crab apples. No grapes this year.



   

                   

How are you two

getting along out here?



   

                   

- Everything all right?

- Yes, just fine.



   

                   

You do remember me?



   

                   

Iím Cora Hallet.



   

                   

Your father leased

this house from me.



   

                   

Yeah, I remember you.



   

                   

- Where did this come from?

- Itís my fatherís.



   

                   

This belongs here.



   

                   

That table and braided rug

belong over there.



   

                   

Poets arenít supposed to live

like other people, is that it?



   

                   

I keep forgetting to ask him

to autograph one for me.



   

                   

"I love you." Signed, "Father."



   

                   

Nice and simple.



   

                   

We donít see much

of you two in the village.



   

                   

Not even at the market.



   

                   

Well, the market does deliver.



   

                   

If one can afford it.



   

                   

Do you want me to give

a message to my father?



   

                   

Such a shame about those grapes.



   

                   

Nobody bothered to spray.



   

                   

I can give my father any message.



   

                   

I came for the jelly glasses.



   

                   

For as long as I can remember...



   

                   

...the owners and I have made

jelly out of those grapes.



   

                   

The glasses are in the cellar.



   

                   

Your fatherís not home?



   

                   

No, he isnít.



   

                   

Oh, thatís too bad.



   

                   

I was having a little gathering

at my house and I was hoping that...



   

                   

Is he in the village?



   

                   

No, heís in New York.



   

                   

When I was outside,

I could have sworn I heard voices.



   

                   

Hebrew?



   

                   

I should think French

would be more help.



   

                   

Or Italian.



   

                   

Lord knows there are enough of them

around these days to speak it with.



   

                   

Are you sure you donít want

to give my father a message?



   

                   

So many outsiders

in the village these days.



   

                   

Oh, from London.



   

                   

- Yeah.

- I adore crosswords.



   

                   

Well, you can take it with you

if you like.



   

                   

- But your fatherís doing it.

- Iím doing it.



   

                   

And Hebrew.



   

                   

My sonís children tell me...



   

                   

...you gave them some birthday cake

the other night.



   

                   

He came inside the house?



   

                   

- My son?

- Yeah, he came inside.



   

                   

Your father?



   

                   

Your father was here that evening?



   

                   

He was in his study.



   

                   

When heís working,

he canít be disturbed.



   

                   

Since that evening,

my sonís been back?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

- Not been back at all?

- No.



   

                   

If my son should come back

and your father isnít here...



   

                   

...it might be better

if you didnít let him in.



   

                   

Well, he didnít ask

my permission the first time.



   

                   

I hope you didnít intend that

to sound so rude.



   

                   

L"II tell my father you said not to let

your son inside the door.



   

                   

That wonít be necessary.



   

                   

Maybe I donít understand

what you want, Mrs. Hallet.



   

                   

One thing I certainly do not want...



   

                   

...is to go on and on about something

that doesnít matter in the slightest.



   

                   

I came for jelly glasses.

We'll get them now.



   

                   

Your son says I have pretty hair.



   

                   

Did he tell you that?



   

                   

Weíll get the glasses now.



   

                   

Theyíre in the cellar.



   

                   

Weíll move this table...



   

                   

...so I can get the rug up

and raise the trap door.



   

                   

My father and I like the table

where it is.



   

                   

But the glasses are in the cellar.



   

                   

L"II get them for you later,

Mrs. Hallet.



   

                   

Move the table.



   

                   

This is my house.



   

                   

You are an extraordinarily

rude little girl...



   

                   

...whoís going to do exactly as I say.



   

                   

Last week you took

the only good grapes we have...



   

                   

...and now the crab apples.



   

                   

And you never asked if you might.



   

                   

And today you just walked

bang into my house!



   

                   

- This is not your house!

- My house!



   

                   

Leased.



   

                   

Youíre   .



   

                   

Why arenít you in school?



   

                   

Thirteen means I have no rights,

is that it?



   

                   

Thirteen means

you should be in school.



   

                   

- Look at me when I speak to you.

- I study at home.



   

                   

It so happens Iím a member

of the school board.



   

                   

When we meet on Monday,

theyíll be very interested in your case.



   

                   

Now, whereís your father?



   

                   

- I told you, heís in New York.

- Exactly where in New York?



   

                   

Heís having lunch

with his publisher.



   

                   

I want the publisherís

telephone number.



   

                   

- I donít have it.

- The publisherís name?



   

                   

This oneís London.



   

                   

Your father will telephone me the

moment he comes back, understood?



   

                   

This is my house.



   

                   

What are you doing here?



   

                   

Itís Saturday afternoon.

Why arenít you at the game?



   

                   

Iíve gotta do this report

on government...



   

                   

...and I need to know when

the school board holds its meetings.



   

                   

Well, would it help you to visit one?



   

                   

No. Actually, all I really need

to know is when it meets.



   

                   

Twice monthly.



   

                   

Someone told me

itís meeting this Monday.



   

                   

No, the board meets again

a week from Thursday.



   

                   

These are the bylaws.



   

                   

- If you need any further help...

- No. This is super. Thank you.



   

                   

But you shouldnít be working now.

You should be at the ball game.



   

                   

The Wildcats need

all the help they can get.



   

                   

Whose class are you doing

the paper for?



   

                   

Excuse me. Maybe I can

get there by halftime.



   

                   

Youíre a liar, Mrs. Hallet.

Youíre a liar.



   

                   

Rynn, where you going?



   

                   

Back home.



   

                   

If you can wait a second,

Iíll give you a lift.



   

                   

No, really. Iím fine.



   

                   

I was hoping maybe you and...



   

                   

Some other time, then.



   

                   

Could you give your mother

a message for me?



   

                   

Tell her I have those jelly glasses...



   

                   

...and any time she wants to come by,

theyíll be there.



   

                   

I can come by later myself,

if you like.



   

                   

I think it'd be better if she came.

My father wants to talk to her.



   

                   

Yeah, Iíll tell her.



   

                   

- Everything all right, miss?

- Fine, officer.



   

                   

I mean, he wasnít bothering you,

was he?



   

                   

Mr. Hallet?



   

                   

Your folks let you wander

around town by yourself?



   

                   

I live with my father. He lets me

come into town when I want.



   

                   

- Whatís your name?

- Rynn Jacobs.



   

                   

Do you have a name, officer?



   

                   

Oh, sure, yeah. Sorry.

The nameís Miglioriti.



   

                   

- Miglioriti.

- Yeah. You got it.



   

                   

But call me Ron.



   

                   

Miglioriti. Thatís a nice name.



   

                   

Itís Italian.



   

                   

Itís hard for most Americans.



   

                   

And have the Miglioritis been living

in this town a long time?



   

                   

Hey, you sound like youíve been

talking to Mrs. Hallet.



   

                   

To her, if you werenít on

the first ship that put in here...



   

                   

...you'll always be an immigrant.



   

                   

I guess weíre the newest,

me and my father.



   

                   

Youíve been here, what,

a couple of months?



   

                   

Yeah, about that.



   

                   

Like it?



   

                   

- Is school okay?

- Yeah, itís okay.



   

                   

- Yeah, being new isnít easy.

- Thereís the lane.



   

                   

Around here, folks can be

a little cold at first...



   

                   

...but when youíve been here longer,

theyíll seem even colder.



   

                   

Thanks for the ride.



   

                   

Maybe I could have

a talk with your father.



   

                   

- Why?

- Nothing to worry your head about.



   

                   

Well, I canít disturb him

when heís working.



   

                   

Yeah, well, letís see if he is.



   

                   

Sorry, heís working.

Heís translating some Russian poetry.



   

                   

When that doorís locked,

I canít bother him.



   

                   

I suspect the only reason Mrs. Hallet

lets us into her village...



   

                   

...is because my fatherís a poet.



   

                   

Mrs. Hallet loves poets.



   

                   

Thatís one of his books over there.



   

                   

- He wrote that, huh?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Want him to sign a copy for you?



   

                   

Yeah, sure. I never met a real poet.



   

                   

I mean, look, donít laugh at me...



   

                   

...but I canít believe

people like poetry.



   

                   

Iím not talking about that

birthday-card stuff, but real poetry.



   

                   

I mean, when it doesnít even rhyme.



   

                   

No, Iím not laughing at you.



   

                   

My father says that most people

who say they like poetry...



   

                   

...only pretend to like it.

Youíre honest.



   

                   

Heís your favorite poet, huh?



   

                   

No. Heís my father.



   

                   

Emily Dickinsonís my favorite.



   

                   

Emily Dickinson, yeah.



   

                   

You know, it can be pretty nice here

in the village once you get used to it.



   

                   

And just donít let Mrs. Hallet

hassle you.



   

                   

Her son says Iím a pretty girl.



   

                   

That what he said?



   

                   

What is he, a pervert?



   

                   

I guess that means little girls

shouldnít accept candy from him.



   

                   

- Not if theyíre smart little girls.

- Donít worry, I wonít.



   

                   

Iím glad you came by, though.



   

                   

Yeah, me too, Iím glad, but...



   

                   

Do you like turkey?



   

                   

Well, to tell you the truth, no.



   

                   

You know, birds are reptiles

from way back.



   

                   

Biologically.



   

                   

Yeah, well, then I guess you donít

wanna buy a raffle ticket, huh?



   

                   

You mean if we buy a raffle ticket,

we might win a turkey?



   

                   

For Thanksgiving.

Yeah, a big   -pounder.



   

                   

- A big turkey, huh?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Yeah, all right, we'll take two tickets.



   

                   

Two dollars.



   

                   

Look, I really hate to do this,

you know? I mean...



   

                   

Itís all right.



   

                   

Hold on. Here.



   

                   

Thereís one for you,

and one for your father.



   

                   

And weíll see which oneís

the lucky one, okay?



   

                   

All right.



   

                   

- Thank your father too.

- Sure.



   

                   

- See you around.

- Bye-bye.



   

                   

Hello?



   

                   

- I may come in.

- I invited you, Mrs. Hallet.



   

                   

We had a meeting

of the school board this morning.



   

                   

I spoke to them about you.



   

                   

I must say, when they heard about

your case, they were very interested.



   

                   

I was just about to put a kettle on.

Would you like some tea?



   

                   

Very interested in your case.



   

                   

You donít wanna hear

what they said?



   

                   

As for tea, Darjeeling or Earl Grey?



   

                   

I came here prepared

to forget about yesterday...



   

                   

...but I must say, I donít care for

your tone any better today.



   

                   

Well, then itís up to me to apologize.



   

                   

What I find particularly surprising...



   

                   

...is that most boys and girls

who are educated in England...



   

                   

...are so well-behaved.



   

                   

What did you decide for the tea?



   

                   

Not a glass of that thick,

sweet wine...



   

                   

...you people use

in your religious rituals?



   

                   

Or arenít you old enough

to drink wine?



   

                   

You told my son   

you told me   .



   

                   

Now, which is it to be?



   

                   

- Thirteen.

- And brilliant.



   

                   

As so many of your people are.



   

                   

Mrs. Hallet, will you please accept my

apology for what happened yesterday?



   

                   

Iím afraid it isnít that simple.



   

                   

You told my son your father

wished to speak to me?



   

                   

I certainly wish to speak to him.

Call him.



   

                   

Well, heís translating right now.



   

                   

I couldnít disturb him

even for Officer Miglioriti.



   

                   

Officer Miglioriti works

for people like me.



   

                   

In case youíre wondering...



   

                   

...Iím waiting right here

until you do call your father.



   

                   

You never answered about the tea.



   

                   

I canít imagine what made any of us

think you could be happy here.



   

                   

My father and I love this house.



   

                   

No, I think weíll make other plans.



   

                   

Our lease is for three years.



   

                   

Leases have known to be broken.



   

                   

Unless, of course, your father and I

could come to some understanding.



   

                   

And what would that be,

Mrs. Hallet?



   

                   

There it is again,

that continual mocking tone.



   

                   

And donít look at me with

those hurt eyes...



   

                   

...and pretend youíve been

misunderstood.



   

                   

You and I both know

you say exactly what you intend.



   

                   

Here are your glasses, Mrs. Hallet.



   

                   

Iím being dismissed?



   

                   

Call your father. Right this minute.



   

                   

Not when heís working.



   

                   

You and I know perfectly well

he isnít there.



   

                   

Go in that study, Mrs. Hallet,

and I tell my father about your son.



   

                   

- My son?

- About Halloween.



   

                   

I havenít told my father yet.



   

                   

- Told your father what?

- What happened here.



   

                   

Everybody in the village

knows about your son.



   

                   

Miglioriti. Heís a liar.

He hates my son.



   

                   

Did he tell you he had an affair with my

sonís wife before they were married?



   

                   

I even had to ask him why the police

donít do anything about it.



   

                   

Why should they do anything?



   

                   

When your son gives candy

to pretty little girls?



   

                   

Your jelly glasses, Mrs. Hallet.



   

                   

- You are gonna get out of this house.

- My house!



   

                   

With or without your father!



   

                   

Sure, this is a lonely place.

Often Iím alone.



   

                   

That doesnít worry me, Mrs. Hallet.



   

                   

And if it worries you, thatís a problem

youíd better take up with your son.



   

                   

Goddamn you!



   

                   

No seals.



   

                   

Without rubber seals,

these glasses are worthless.



   

                   

The seals are in the cellar.



   

                   

And this time, donít you dare

tell me to come back later.



   

                   

Get out of my house!



   

                   

Iím warning you, Mrs. Hallet.



   

                   

Get out of my house!



   

                   

Mrs. Hallet, Iím warning you!



   

                   

Hi. You been driving long?



   

                   

How come youíre in this car?



   

                   

- How come youíre dressed like that?

- Because Iím a magician.



   

                   

And whatís that, your magic wand?



   

                   

Oh, itís my cane. Iím a cripple.



   

                   

- I guess I should say Iím sorry.

- Why? Itís not your fault.



   

                   

Saturday, when all my brothers

are playing football...



   

                   

...Iím putting on a magic show...



   

                   

...for some rich kidís birthday party.



   

                   

Letís see you do something magic.



   

                   

Say, arenít you too young to drive?



   

                   

Well, my neighborís

supposed to take it.



   

                   

My fatherís really counting on it

being at the station when he gets in.



   

                   

You think you could take it?

I can pay you.



   

                   

Say, you know you got

a chipped tooth?



   

                   

- How come I never see you in school?

- I donít go to school.



   

                   

- You sick or something?

- No, school is stultifying.



   

                   

You say this was your fatherís car?



   

                   

No, no. What I said was that

my father needs it at the station.



   

                   

- Itís hers.

- Whose?



   

                   

Old lady Hallet's.



   

                   

Itís a beauty.

Only       miles on it.



   

                   

I ought to know.



   

                   

My father has a service station.

He works on it.



   

                   

- Sheís lending it to us.

- No way.



   

                   

Sheís letting my father.



   

                   

She wonít even let

her own creep son drive it.



   

                   

- Hereís $ .

- Iím already late for my magic show.



   

                   

You gonna come back afterwards?



   

                   

Please?



   

                   

- Look, I need your help.

- Maybe after the magic show.



   

                   

You promise?



   

                   

Ma, the new trick with the hand puppet

went over really big.



   

                   

Iím still here at the birthday party.



   

                   

No, Ma, they asked me, really.

They asked me to stay for dinner too.



   

                   

Just hamburgers and Cokes.



   

                   

Come on, tell Tom he can take her

to the movie for a change.



   

                   

Itís his turn anyway.



   

                   

Look, Iíll talk to you later, okay?

Good...



   

                   

Yeah, yeah, okay.

Yeah, yeah, okay. Bye-bye.



   

                   

You donít have any

brothers or sisters, do you?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

Thatís something

I canít even imagine.



   

                   

- Hey, light the candles, huh?

- Yeah, sure.



   

                   

- Hey, thatís a pretty dress.

- Thanks.



   

                   

My father and I bought it

in Morocco.



   

                   

Hey, they smoke a lot of hash there.



   

                   

They do a lot of things there.



   

                   

Did you ever smoke hash?



   

                   

Hundreds of times.



   

                   

- Yeah? No kidding?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Youíre a regular hippie, huh?



   

                   

No, not really.



   

                   

Go ahead, sit down.

Want some wine?



   

                   

- Do you?

- No, I hate it.



   

                   

Me too.



   

                   

Youíre a pretty good cook.



   

                   

- Is that so surprising?

- I only meant for being    and all.



   

                   

How old do you have to be before

people start treating you like a person?



   

                   

- Hey, Mario.

- Yeah?



   

                   

Thanks about the car and stuff.



   

                   

You know, you may be smart,

but youíre stupid.



   

                   

I mean, if you wanted to get her car

away from the front of the house...



   

                   

...why go to all the hassle

of taking it down to the station?



   

                   

You see, the trick in magic...



   

                   

...is to do the one thing

so simple and so obvious...



   

                   

...that no one ever thinks of it.



   

                   

You see? Whatís simpler than putting

the car back where it came from?



   

                   

Did anyone see you

take her car back to her office?



   

                   

Jesus, you think I wanna get busted...



   

                   

...for ripping off old lady Halletís

most prized possession?



   

                   

You know, you donít even trust me

enough to tell me why I did it.



   

                   

You did it to help me.



   

                   

Did you lock her car doors?



   

                   

You shouldíve put them

through her office mailbox.



   

                   

No, I shouldnít. Let me tell you.



   

                   

Iím sitting there in her Bentley

in the dark, right...



   

                   

...in front of her goddamn office,

trying not to let anybody see me...



   

                   

...and ask me what Iím doing.



   

                   

I gotta be careful, right?



   

                   

Now, I may not know why Mrs. Hallet

didnít drive her own car back...



   

                   

...but one thing I do know:



   

                   

Why would Mrs. Hallet

put her own keys...



   

                   

...through her own goddamn

office mailbox?



   

                   

She wouldnít. Sheíd keep her keys.

Theyíd be wherever she is.



   

                   

I feel like some wine.



   

                   

Hey, now, this is pretty fancy.

Doesnít even unscrew.



   

                   

Itís got a cork and everything.

Now, this is class.



   

                   

You still didnít tell me why. How come

she didnít drive her car back?



   

                   

- So, what do you care?

- I risked my goddamn ass for you.



   

                   

You didnít have to.



   

                   

Look, you better tell me

what the hell is going on...



   

                   

...because if I'd left that car

down at the station like you told me...



   

                   

...everybody in the village

wouldíve recognized it.



   

                   

You donít trust anybody, do you?



   

                   

- You want another lamb chop?

- Shouldnít we save it for your father?



   

                   

Heís staying overnight in New York.



   

                   

Hey, you never said that.



   

                   

- Have you ever stayed alone before?

- Sure, hundreds of times.



   

                   

Like all those times

you smoked hash?



   

                   

- Arenít you scared?

- Of what?



   

                   

- Of being alone.

- No.



   

                   

You know, last week on TV

I saw this old woman...



   

                   

...who was strangled

with a body stocking.



   

                   

I mean, it can happen.



   

                   

You know you got an outside light?



   

                   

- Leave it on all the time, okay?

- Thanks.



   

                   

You know, with me,

you got an indoor light.



   

                   

Hey, thatís neat.



   

                   

Well, Mr. Show Biz, thatís me.



   

                   

You need more of an audience.



   

                   

Iíd like you to meet Gordon.



   

                   

Gordon.



   

                   

Isnít he cute?



   

                   

- Hey, hi, Gordon.

- Get away.



   

                   

You donít even trust me

with your rat.



   

                   

- Itís a hamster.

- It looks like a rat.



   

                   

- You look like a rat.

- No.



   

                   

- Come here.

- You got any pets?



   

                   

No, just my parents,

which I water and feed regularly.



   

                   

How nice.



   

                   

I think we gotta get Gordon

back to the cage.



   

                   

L"II make a deal with you.



   

                   

You tell me about the car,

Iíll tell you why Iím crippled.



   

                   

No.



   

                   

It was polio shots.



   

                   

See, I have so many

brothers and sisters...



   

                   

...that my mother forgot

who did and who didnít.



   

                   

Okay, now I wanna know

about the car. All of it.



   

                   

We have some peach ice cream.

Would you like some?



   

                   

No.



   

                   

- The car.

- Her car?



   

                   

Did you leave any fingerprints?



   

                   

Presto! No fingerprints.



   

                   

Youíre so magic,

letís see you do a trick.



   

                   

- Okay. Hold on to my cane.

- I want a trick!



   

                   

- Hold on to my cane.

- All right.



   

                   

Ladies and gentlemen, I shall now

make an automobile disappear.



   

                   

- You already did that.

- Well, then, behold, I shall disappear.



   

                   

Now, go hide your eyes

in the corner and donít peek.



   

                   

Okay, you ready? Now, donít peek.

Donít peek, Gordon.



   

                   

Here we go. One, two, three.



   

                   

Ready or not, here I come.



   

                   

Mario?



   

                   

Hey, Mario?



   

                   

Mario?



   

                   

Give me that!



   

                   

Well, Mary-fucking-Poppins.



   

                   

- Give me that!

- Come and get it.



   

                   

Give it!



   

                   

Mario.



   

                   

Mario, I mean it. Now, stop.



   

                   

Mario.



   

                   

Listen.



   

                   

Somebodyís out there. Okay.



   

                   

Hey, itís a police car.



   

                   

Hey, donít worry. Itís my uncle Ron.



   

                   

- Hi.

- Hi. Come on in.



   

                   

Would you like a glass of wine?



   

                   

Yeah, itís okay. Youíre off duty.



   

                   

Hey, so, whatís happening, unc?



   

                   

I mean, whereís your

Playmate of the Week?



   

                   

Sheís waiting outside in the car.



   

                   

You know, he likes the ones

who look like they were...



   

                   

...blown up with a bicycle pump,

you know?



   

                   

What, are you gonna bust us

for drinking here? I wonít have it.



   

                   

Youíre just lucky

I donít smell any grass.



   

                   

You got any? L"II buy it cheap.



   

                   

No respect. No respect for the law.



   

                   

Respect? You want respect?



   

                   

He wants respect, and heís using

his police car to get all his action.



   

                   

Just the two of you, huh?



   

                   

My fatherís sleeping.



   

                   

- You met her father?

- Oh, yeah, nice guy.



   

                   

He had dinner with you, huh?



   

                   

Hey, how many plates you see here?

I count two. One...



   

                   

Yeah, okay, okay, wise guy.

All right.



   

                   

He was tired,

so he went upstairs to bed.



   

                   

Candlelight, wine and a fireplace.



   

                   

Itís really very romantic.



   

                   

Frank Hallet called in twice.



   

                   

- He said his motherís missing.

- Sheís probably out house-pimping.



   

                   

Mario donít like the Hallets.



   

                   

Me? I donít think you like them

too much either.



   

                   

I remember he tried

to get Hallet busted...



   

                   

...for dragging some little girl

into the bushes.



   

                   

He couldnít do it, though.



   

                   

All Halletís mother did

was marry the creep off...



   

                   

...to some waitress with two kids.

- Thatís enough.



   

                   

- To prove he was normal.

- Donít be such a smart-ass.



   

                   

Anyway, her carís in front

of the office, but no sign of her.



   

                   

And Hallet said he was

coming over here...



   

                   

...to pick up some jelly glasses

or something like that.



   

                   

Yeah, well, you see,

theyíre still here waiting for her.



   

                   

- No oneís touched them.

- So she never came by, huh?



   

                   

- No.

- So you came looking for her here?



   

                   

I came here because I thought

that Rynn might be alone.



   

                   

Did you think that fink would be

waiting here for you to catch him?



   

                   

Look, if you donít want your mom

and dad to know you were here...



   

                   

...donít be such a smart-ass.

- Whoís a smart-ass?



   

                   

Why donít you teach him

some manners.



   

                   

Oh, if Mrs. Hallet comes by, could

you have her call the police station?



   

                   

- Okay?

- Fine.



   

                   

- Thanks for the wine.

- Good night.



   

                   

And donít do anything I wouldnít do.



   

                   

- I mean, that was scary, wasnít it?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Wasnít it? Howíd you like the way

I made your father disappear?



   

                   

- You lied.

- You bet your ass.



   

                   

What did you want me

to do anyway?



   

                   

Well, where do you think

youíre going?



   

                   

Just testing.



   

                   

Like, you donít really want me to go

or anything, do you? Do you, huh?



   

                   

- No.

- Oh, you got feelings, huh?



   

                   

I thought you were

a piece of cardboard. Come.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Are you crazy?



   

                   

Heís back. Come on.

Go ahead, answer the door.



   

                   

- You ready?

- Yeah, go ahead.



   

                   

Hello.



   

                   

May I come in?



   

                   

I think itís time you and I

had a little talk, donít you agree?



   

                   

Are these the famous jelly jars?



   

                   

Hello.



   

                   

Only two for dinner?



   

                   

Did your father quit smoking, Rynn?



   

                   

Give us a light, son.



   

                   

Itís cold in here. Letís put

some more wood on the fire.



   

                   

L"II get it.



   

                   

Hello, Gordon.



   

                   

Whereís your father, Rynn?



   

                   

Do you love Gordon?



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

Yes, what?



   

                   

Yes, I love Gordon.



   

                   

And I think Gordon loves you too.



   

                   

No!



   

                   

Hey, what are you? A maniac?



   

                   

The son of a bitch bit me.



   

                   

Give me some disinfectant.



   

                   

Itís upstairs in the medicine cabinet.



   

                   

Now, listen to me, young lady.



   

                   

I know youíre up to something.



   

                   

And I wanna know

where your father is.



   

                   

What'll you tell me this time?

Heís working? Or sleeping?



   

                   

Did he have dinner here?



   

                   

- Did you have dinner here, son?

- Yep.



   

                   

Just you and pretty Rynn?



   

                   

Yep.



   

                   

- And whereís he?

- Who?



   

                   

- Who are we talking about?

- Oh, her fatherís sleeping.



   

                   

- Upstairs?

- Upstairs.



   

                   

- You were gonna say in the study.

- No.



   

                   

- Donít lie to me, damn it. You were.

- No, I wasnít.



   

                   

- Who is he?

- Iím Mario Podesta.



   

                   

- I asked you. Who is he?

- Heís Mario Podesta.



   

                   

Oh, yes. I think Iíve seen you hobbling

around the village, havenít I?



   

                   

- My uncleís a cop.

- Really?



   

                   

He was just here.



   

                   

- Why was he here?

- And heís coming back.



   

                   

- Thatís not what I asked you.

- Tell him.



   

                   

Yes, tell me.



   

                   

He said you called about your mother.

Said you might come looking for her.



   

                   

Why would my dear mother be here?



   

                   

Unless she ran off

with the man of the house...



   

                   

...which has happened on occasion.



   

                   

- Sheís not here.

- No, it was about the jelly glasses.



   

                   

The other day you said

you didnít have any boyfriends.



   

                   

Yes.



   

                   

- Are you her boyfriend?

- Yes.



   

                   

You told me no boyfriends.



   

                   

Sheís very young.

Did she tell you how old she was?



   

                   

- Thirteen.

- Donít you know any girls your age?



   

                   

Or do girls your age like to dance?



   

                   

- The jelly glasses.

- What about them?



   

                   

- You can take them now.

- Not now.



   

                   

Perhaps Mother came by

but you werenít home.



   

                   

I was here all the time.



   

                   

- Didnít you go to the football game?

- I couldnít have missed her.



   

                   

So you say youíve

been here all along?



   

                   

- Yeah.

- Thatís very strange.



   

                   

You can take the glasses now.



   

                   

- L"II put them in your car.

- Will you?



   

                   

- Yeah, Iíll do it right now.

- No, you canít.



   

                   

No car.



   

                   

See, I walked here tonight,

as my dear wife has the station wagon.



   

                   

As for the Bentley,

dear Mother has the keys.



   

                   

What do you want, Mr. Hallet?



   

                   

- What do you want, son?

- What do you mean?



   

                   

You want what all boyfriends want.

You donít like girls?



   

                   

- Yes, I like girls.

- You donít want Rynn?



   

                   

Be a good little magician,

will you, son?



   

                   

Disappear yourself.

Tell him to get out of here.



   

                   

- Heís my friend.

- But not your boyfriend.



   

                   

First, I shall tell you what I want.



   

                   

I wanna know whatís been

happening here in this house.



   

                   

I wanna know

what happened here today!



   

                   

Nothing happened.



   

                   

All day is a long time

for nothing to happen.



   

                   

Just now the police were here.



   

                   

Yes or no? That happened, didnít it?



   

                   

The police were here, yes or no?



   

                   

Officer Miglioriti came to say

you were looking for your mother.



   

                   

Go on.



   

                   

- There are the jelly glasses.

- Meaning what?



   

                   

- Meaning she hasnít been here.

- That doesnít prove anything.



   

                   

- I guess I canít help you, can I?

- Do you wanna help me?



   

                   

- Do you wanna help me, son?

- Sure.



   

                   

Then get your ass

the hell out of here right now.



   

                   

Hey, Rynn, call the cops.



   

                   

Be my guest.



   

                   

Whatís the matter, gimp?

Got trouble staying on your feet?



   

                   

I didnít think youíd call.



   

                   

Hit the road, wop.



   

                   

- Weíll both go.

- No, just you and your goddamn cape.



   

                   

Get out of here.



   

                   

Iím a wop.

Wops carry knives, right?



   

                   

Guinea. Dago. Wop.



   

                   

Easy, son. Easy.

I take it back. I take it all back.



   

                   

What do they call guys like you

who hang around little girls?



   

                   

A pervert?



   

                   

You know, if I stick this in your guts,

all the cops will do is thank me.



   

                   

Now, I think youíd better get

the hell out of here.



   

                   

Get out of here!



   

                   

- Call the cops.

- No.



   

                   

Little son of a bitch.



   

                   

Iím not through with you,

thatís for damn sure.



   

                   

Is it hers?



   

                   

Yeah.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Oh, boy.



   

                   

Thatís trouble.



   

                   

I mean, how did...?



   

                   

Why donít you take the cookies in

where the tea will be.



   

                   

Mario?



   

                   

Rynn, how long has it been

for your mother?



   

                   

October   th.



   

                   

I donít understand.

I mean, donít bodies...?



   

                   

- Decompose?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Well, you can put stuff on them.



   

                   

So why donít you take

the tray in next to the fire, all right?



   

                   

Yeah.



   

                   

How do you know

how to do that stuff?



   

                   

I looked it up in the library.



   

                   

In London we found out

my father was dying.



   

                   

My mother had run away

when I was  .



   

                   

He didnít want her to get her

red fingernails into me ever again.



   

                   

We left England

without a word to anyone.



   

                   

It was the end of the summer

when I came here...



   

                   

...and I knew this was the place.



   

                   

But he said I should think

it over for a week...



   

                   

...to make sure I wanted to spend

the next three years of my life here.



   

                   

The rentís paid up

for the next three years.



   

                   

So three more years like this?



   

                   

Almost all September,

he looked fine.



   

                   

If the pain was terrible,

he never said anything.



   

                   

Then one Sunday evening...



   

                   

...we were sitting in this room...



   

                   

...and he whispered to me

in a very soft voice...



   

                   

...that I wasnít like

anybody else in the world...



   

                   

...that people

wouldnít understand me.



   

                   

Theyíd order me around,

tell me what to do...



   

                   

...and try to make me into the person

they wanted me to be.



   

                   

Since I was only a kid,

I couldnít say anything.



   

                   

Iíd have to stay alone...



   

                   

...keep out of trouble and make

myself very small in the world.



   

                   

All alone?



   

                   

We worked out every detail.



   

                   

We knew it wouldnít be easy.



   

                   

Hereís a letter from my father.



   

                   

"Donít give in and play their game.



   

                   

Fight them any way you have to.



   

                   

Survive."



   

                   

Thatís what he said.



   

                   

Then he kissed me...



   

                   

...and walked off into the trees

and down the lane.



   

                   

In that room, I found charts

of tide tables and waters...



   

                   

...in the sound and the ocean.



   

                   

He'll never be found.



   

                   

Did you cry a lot?



   

                   

Depends what you mean by a lot.



   

                   

No. I guess not very much.



   

                   

Do you believe in God?



   

                   

- Itíd be nice.

- But you donít.



   

                   

I donít know.



   

                   

You know, itís all so goddamn wild.



   

                   

I mean...



   

                   

...thereís so many problems.



   

                   

- How do you pay for stuff?

- Travelerís checks.



   

                   

Yeah, kids can have them too.



   

                   

I keep them in a safe-deposit box

in the bank.



   

                   

I have to make them last

for three years.



   

                   

- Howíd your mother find you?

- By lying to my fatherís publisher.



   

                   

She walked right in.

Fingernails as red as ever.



   

                   

My God, the nerve of her.



   

                   

She sat right over there.

Smoked her gold-tipped cigarettes...



   

                   

...went on and on about the

pollution in the Mediterranean...



   

                   

...and how marvelous it would be

to stay here.



   

                   

I hated myself for doing it,

but I actually acted happy to see her.



   

                   

She asked me for a drink, but I lied

and told her we didnít have any.



   

                   

I gave her some tea

with the same almond biscuits.



   

                   

Theyíre very good.



   

                   

My father had given me a small bottle

containing some white powder.



   

                   

He said if she should arrive,

I should put it in her tea.



   

                   

It would calm her,

make her less aggressive.



   

                   

Well, it sure did.



   

                   

But you didnít know

what it was, huh?



   

                   

No, not until after.



   

                   

I looked it up

based on its properties.



   

                   

- Potassium cyanide.

- And thatís what you put in her tea?



   

                   

Father meant what he said about

doing anything you have to to survive.



   

                   

How come youíre not

drinking yours?



   

                   

Mineís still too hot.

I didnít put in any cold milk.



   

                   

I can still see her red nails

holding up that cup.



   

                   

After a few sips, she said

that the tea tasted of almonds.



   

                   

"Itís the almond cookies," I told her.



   

                   

"They come from Fortnumís."

She loved that.



   

                   

- How long did it take?

- Quite fast, actually.



   

                   

You mean, like,

first you canít breathe?



   

                   

Yeah. Apparently.



   

                   

Whatís wrong with you?

You okay?



   

                   

Yeah, now Iím okay.



   

                   

Iím all right.



   

                   

Listen.



   

                   

Itís just the wind.

Sounds like itís alive.



   

                   

Look, about the telephone.



   

                   

We better not call each other

from now on...



   

                   

...because somebody

might be listening, okay?



   

                   

Okay.



   

                   

Letís go.



   

                   

Iím not gonna play their game.



   

                   

Would that be so awful?



   

                   

The game is pretending, you know?



   

                   

Itís like going through the motions

of living without really living.



   

                   

But what about school?



   

                   

School is having people

tell you what life is...



   

                   

...and never finding out by yourself.



   

                   

Yeah, but kids have to go to school.



   

                   

Why?



   

                   

Okay, so your father taught you.



   

                   

Everybody doesnít have

a father like yours.



   

                   

Everybody canít be like you.



   

                   

If Iíd listened to them,

Iíd be like them.



   

                   

Damn. You keep saying "them"

like everyoneís out to get you.



   

                   

Maybe they are.



   

                   

Well, you gotta trust somebody.



   

                   

Mario!



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

Mario.



   

                   

Come on, Mario. Mario!



   

                   

You all right?



   

                   

Iíve got a tub waiting

for you upstairs.



   

                   

Hello?



   

                   

Mr. Hallet?



   

                   

Mr. Hallet, I know this is you...



   

                   

...because everybody else is at

the football game this afternoon.



   

                   

I should warn you that the police

are watching our house...



   

                   

...right this very minute, Mr. Hallet.



   

                   

I found a pair of

your fatherís pajamas.



   

                   

Itís a pretty good fit.



   

                   

Come on, youíre shivering.

Sit down.



   

                   

- Who called?

- No one.



   

                   

Rynn, who called?



   

                   

Well, whoever called

didnít leave their name.



   

                   

Was it Hallet?



   

                   

- Yeah.

- That creep.



   

                   

Youíre like ice.



   

                   

Come on.



   

                   

- Is that better?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Itís dark already.



   

                   

Mario...



   

                   

...if you want,

I can get into bed with you.



   

                   

- Is that better?

- Yeah.



   

                   

Mario?



   

                   

I know what youíre gonna ask.



   

                   

Have you ever?



   

                   

Hundreds of times.



   

                   

Do they expect you

home for dinner?



   

                   

Would it be so terrible

if you didnít go?



   

                   

I mean, if your parents did

find out about us?



   

                   

Your uncle Ron knows.



   

                   

Look, Rynn, theyíd wanna

know all about you.



   

                   

Every goddamn thing.



   

                   

And Iím not as good

at lying as you are.



   

                   

Here, take this. Itís my fatherís.



   

                   

Like your father said in that letter:



   

                   

Since when do they let kids

do what they want?



   

                   

- Come back after dinner?

- L"II try.



   

                   

- Who is it?

- Ron Miglioriti.



   

                   

Hi. Iím just making

my Saturday-night call.



   

                   

Yeah, come on in.



   

                   

- You all right?

- Fine.



   

                   

- How are you?

- Fine, fine, thanks.



   

                   

- Can I get you anything...?

- No, no. I canít stay, really.



   

                   

Your pumped-up lady

waiting for you?



   

                   

Sorry. Does make me sound

like a smart-ass, doesnít it?



   

                   

- Youíre all alone, huh?

- My fatherís here.



   

                   

Rynn, I donít believe what youíve been

telling me about your father.



   

                   

No?



   

                   

No, no, youíre gonna tell me

that heís in there working, right?



   

                   

He was this afternoon. Translating.



   

                   

Then he was, and now he isnít?

Thatís it, huh?



   

                   

No, heís resting upstairs.



   

                   

Iíve been here three times.



   

                   

And each time I notice

how good you are with words.



   

                   

The way you speak,

youíre very careful.



   

                   

Youíre too goddamn careful.



   

                   

- You donít believe heís upstairs, then?

- No.



   

                   

All right.



   

                   

Father!



   

                   

Father?



   

                   

- He should be down in a minute.

- Yeah, sure.



   

                   

Look, I understand, because I havenít

been telling you the truth all the time.



   

                   

Because my father isnít a well man.



   

                   

Maybe you donít understand

about poets.



   

                   

Edgar Allen Poe was a drug addict.

Dylan Thomas drank himself to death.



   

                   

Sylvia Plath took her own life.



   

                   

Rynn, weíre talking about your father.



   

                   

Yeah, well...



   

                   

Sometimes my father goes

into his room and locks the door.



   

                   

He keeps something

in a desk drawer.



   

                   

I donít know what it is.



   

                   

But I know...



   

                   

...when he locks that door...



   

                   

...he doesnít want me to see

the way he becomes, you know?



   

                   

That may sound stupid,

but you donít know my...



   

                   

Yes, Rynn, what is it?



   

                   

Father, Iíd like you to meet

Officer Miglioriti.



   

                   

- You know, the one I told you about.

- Good evening, sir.



   

                   

- Sorry to bother you.

- Yes, quite all right. Quite all right.



   

                   

Iím the one to apologize.



   

                   

I confess to being a bit tired.



   

                   

So how can my daughter

and I help you?



   

                   

No, no problem, no problem.



   

                   

Rynn, nip into my study,

get one of my books, will you?



   

                   

And a pen, please.



   

                   

Rynn tells me weíve promised you

an autographed copy.



   

                   

If youíd be good enough

to spell Miglioriti.



   

                   

"Ron" will be okay.



   

                   

Yes, Ron, okay. Here.



   

                   

Ron, from Lester.



   

                   

Well, itís really been nice

to meet you, sir.



   

                   

Yes, itís a pleasure. Good night.



   

                   

- Good night, sir.

- Good night.



   

                   

- See you later, Rynn.

- Good night.



   

                   

Guess I owe you an apology, huh?



   

                   

Thatís all right. Donít worry about it.



   

                   

- Good night.

- I hope you enjoy the book.



   

                   

Thanks.



   

                   

You were great.

Your voice was so deep.



   

                   

Yeah.



   

                   

Yeah, itís this damn cold.



   

                   

How do you spell Miglioriti?



   

                   

How would I have known

if you hadnít come back?



   

                   

- I would have come back anyway.

- I hoped you would.



   

                   

Remember? You said

I donít trust anybody.



   

                   

You know, we should have told

Uncle Ron what he was interrupting.



   

                   

A gentleman never tells.



   

                   

Well, maybe in England they donít...



   

                   

...but here they never

shut up about it.



   

                   

L"II bet half... Well, hell,

most of the football team...



   

                   

...thatís all they ever do,

is talk about it.



   

                   

You know, I wonít tell anybody.



   

                   

You know, we have

to trust each other...



   

                   

...because most people donít

go through as much as we have.



   

                   

Not even in a whole entire lifetime.



   

                   

No one will know about us.



   

                   

I never knew how much

I needed you.



   

                   

Ever think maybe

Iím playing your game?



   

                   

Because you want to?



   

                   

No. Because I love you.



   

                   

Thank you.



   

                   

- Youíre gonna catch my cold.

- I donít care.



   

                   

You know, when I told you

I didnít mind being alone, I lied.



   

                   

Donít ever leave, okay?



   

                   

With all this snow,

itís a good time to see...



   

                   

...if you and your father

have had any visitors.



   

                   

I love detective stories.

Do you read Agatha Christie?



   

                   

All her murder mysteries

take place...



   

                   

...in the most beautiful

old English country houses.



   

                   

See these?



   

                   

Footprints. Theyíre mine

and my fatherís, I expect.



   

                   

Theyíre not very clear.



   

                   

As long as youíre here,

you wanna give me a hand?



   

                   

You know, I canít

figure you out at all.



   

                   

You havenít even asked me

about Mario.



   

                   

- What about him?

- Heís in the hospital.



   

                   

Pneumonia.



   

                   

How bad?



   

                   

Well, without the antibiotics,

he wouldíve died.



   

                   

Iíve gotta see him.

Iíve gotta see him.



   

                   

Can you go now?



   

                   

- Youíve seen him?

- Yeah.



   

                   

He was delirious

and talking out loud.



   

                   

About the two of you.



   

                   

Yes?



   

                   

Saying how much he loves you.



   

                   

Mario.



   

                   

Mario?



   

                   

Mario, I love you.



   

                   

My father worked it all out.



   

                   

How Iíd live.



   

                   

What Iíd do.



   

                   

But it canít work.



   

                   

It canít work without you.



   

                   

He was wrong.



   

                   

No...



   

                   

Oh, Mario.



   

                   

Anything for a trick.

You werenít sick at all.



   

                   

- Get out of here!

- Trick or treat.



   

                   

Mr. Hallet, if you leave right now,

I wonít say a word, okay?



   

                   

Call the police? No?

Why donít you call your father.



    

                   

The least you could do is offer me

a cup of tea after I got all dressed up.



    

                   

If anybody came by...



    

                   

...naturally theyíd assume I was

your little friend, donít you think?



    

                   

I even limped.



    

                   

Officer Miglioriti's

gonna be coming by.



    

                   

Officer Miglioriti is at his stupid raffle.



    

                   

Itís awful dirty down there

in the cellar.



    

                   

I had no idea what Iíd find.



    

                   

Certainly not those damn jelly jars.



    

                   

L"II show you what I did find,

if youíre interested.



    

                   

A hairpin.



    

                   

Not yours, though. No.



    

                   

You wouldnít wear pins

in that pretty hair.



    

                   

- Couldíve been down there for years.

- No, it wouldíve rusted.



    

                   

Besides, it still smells

of the perfume...



    

                   

...I gave my mother

for Christmas last year.



    

                   

One more thing.



    

                   

A bright-red broken fingernail,

wouldnít you say?



    

                   

I wonder who that belongs to.



    

                   

Not my motherís color at all.



    

                   

No telling what the police

could come up with down there.



    

                   

Or out in the garden.



    

                   

At least I should thank you...



    

                   

...for bringing the Bentley

back to the office, though.



    

                   

- What do you mean?

- You know what I mean.



    

                   

Had to call a locksmith.



    

                   

Any idea where the keys might be?



    

                   

Perhaps on that chain

around your pretty neck.



    

                   

- Where are you going?

- You said you wanted some tea.



    

                   

There are some details

still to be worked out, of course.



    

                   

Not to worry.



    

                   

L"II enjoy figuring them out

on our long winter nights together.



    

                   

Hello?



    

                   

Officer Miglioriti.

What? Oh, really?



    

                   

Thatís great.



    

                   

No, no, not now.



    

                   

L"II manage.



    

                   

Okay, thanks. Bye.



    

                   

Rule number one: No secrets.



    

                   

I won the stupid

Thanksgiving turkey.



    

                   

Congratulations.



    

                   

And you told him not to bring it by.

Very wise.



    

                   

You know...



    

                   

...thereís no reason you shouldnít go

right on living the way you have been.



    

                   

Only now, of course,

weíll be friends, you and I.



    

                   

Just us two, huh?



    

                   

We could become

very good friends.



    

                   

I like the way you handled yourself

on the phone.



    

                   

You are brilliant.



    

                   

Youíre inventive and resourceful...



    

                   

...very cool under fire.



    

                   

You know how to survive, donít you?



    

                   

I thought I did.



    

                   

What about Mario?



    

                   

- Heís in the hospital.

- He knows. Everything.



    

                   

- Maybe he'll die.

- The doctor says no.



    

                   

It really doesnít matter, you know.

Heís an accomplice.



    

                   

- Mr. Hallet?

- Yes, my dear?



    

                   

Will you tell your wife?



    

                   

What?



    

                   

Will you tell your wife?



    

                   

Well, suppose you let me

take care of that, okay?



    

                   

The fireís catching.



    

                   

Itís nice and cozy now, huh?



    

                   

- What are we listening to?

- Chopin. Piano Concerto No.  .



    

                   

Yes.



    

                   

Itís lovely.



    

                   

- You want milk?

- Yes, please.



    

                   

Thank you.



    

                   

- Would you like some sugar?

- Just one, please.



    

                   

L"II expect you to remember that.



    

                   

Thatís easy. Itís the same as I take.



    

                   

Nothing like a nice

hot cup of tea, is there?



    

                   

No.



    

                   

- Something wrong, my dear?

- No.



    

                   

Why arenít you drinking your tea?



    

                   

Iím waiting for you. Youíre the guest.



    

                   

You put more milk in yours.



    

                   

Did I?



    

                   

Actually, thatís the way

I prefer mine.



    

                   

Iíd prefer yours.



    

                   

Look at me when I talk to you.



    

                   

I want yours.



    

                   

Gives us more a feeling of sharing,

donít you agree?



    

                   

Ladies first.



    

                   

No, wait.



    

                   

Is it good?



    

                   

Just right.



    

                   

You know why I switched cups,

donít you?



    

                   

- No.

- Oh, now, think.



    

                   

Some sort of test?



    

                   

Just so you remember,

none of your little tricks.



    

                   

Tea tastes like almonds.



    

                   

Must be the almond cookies.



    

                   

Oh, yes.



    

                   

Excuse me.



    

                   

You should see the way the fire...



    

                   

...lights up your hair.



    

                   

All yellow and gold.



    

                   

Such lovely hair.











  

 
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