Murder By Death Script - Dialogue Transcript

Voila! Finally, the Murder By Death script is here for all you quotes spouting fans of the Neil Simon movie with Peter Falk.  This script is a transcript that was painstakingly transcribed using the screenplay and/or viewings of Murder By Death. 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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Murder By Death Script





-Do you think they'll come, sir?

-They'll come, all right.



Here. Stamp those and mail them.



It's ringing.



Would you walk Myron the other way?

My leg looks like a tree in this fog.



Come on.



What a godforsaken spot to get lost.



It's true. I saw a much better spot

a few miles back.







Tell them we're lost.



-The phone's dead.

-Why'd you say " hello"?



-I could've sworn--




-Sounded like somebody snipped the wire.




What did it sound like?






-Some fog, eh, Pop?

-I've already heard the weather report.



Drive, please.



It's as thick as pea soup.



Not a soul around for miles.



Know what l think?

Perfect place for a murder.



Conversation like television set

on honeymoon:






Where are we going, anyway, Pop?



Who is this Mr. Twain?

What'd he mean, "dinner and a murder"?



Questions like athlete's foot:



After a while, very irritating.



To stop car, please.



-What's wrong?

-Stop car, please.



To shut engine off, please.






I don't hear nothing.

What do you hear?



-Double negative and dog.

-So it's a dog. So what?



If not mistaken...


            belong to Mr. Dick Charleston.



-Who's Dick Charleston?

-I am.



You don't happen to have seen

a little white-- Wang!



A white Wang?



Sidney Wang! What are you

doing in this godforsaken spot?



No doubt, same as you.



Looking for bridge that lead

to home of host, Mr. Lionel Twain.



You too, huh?



Must be important to invite

two such detectives.



Excuse, please, to introduce

Japanese son, Willie.




But l thought--



Mrs. Wang and l

couldn't have children.



Willie: adopted number three son.



Careful on this road.

It's treacherous.



Treacherous road like fresh mushroom.

Must always--



Idiot! Not finish mushroom story.



You're idiot!



Sorry, but l see nothing.

This fog's as thick as bouillabaisse.




-I beg your pardon?



Nuts, nuts! There are

no nuts in my chocolate!



You let that imbecile in the shop

give you raisins.



He didn't have any nuts.



-The man in the shop?

-That's the reason l took the raisins.



Never mind.



We'll soon be there for dinner.

Hot soup.



Something is not right

in all of this, huh?



I can feel it in my bones.



-In your what?

-In my bones.



Buns? You have buns?



You bought buns

and didn't tell me?



-Where are the buns?

-No, monsieur.



The bones in my body.



You shouldn't speak with an accent

when you know l'm hungry.



If you ask me, Sam,

this is a wild goose chase.



-Nobody asked you.

-Yes, they did.



You asked me back there

if l thought--



That was then. This is now.



Nobody knows

what tomorrow will be.



That's the way it is,

whether we like it or not.



Sam, l really worry

about you sometimes.



Cut the malarkey.

This trip is strictly business.



-What do you got on Twain?

-He was born in San Francisco in      .



His mother was Catholic,

father an Orthodox Jew.



They separated two hours

after the marriage.



-Any children?

-Yeah, one daughter,   .



Her name's lrene,

but she goes by Rita.



Just like a dame.

Don't stop, angel. You're doing fine.



He was arrested in      

for selling pornographic bibles.



Charges were dropped when the

church didn't turn over the bibles.



There's nothing on him until '  

when he was picked up in EI Paso...



...for smuggling a truckload

of rich, white Americans...



...into Mexico to pick melons.



He was sent to the state hospital

for mental observation.



I think we picked ourselves

a queer bird, angel. Anything else?



Yeah. Get this, Sam.



Twain has one interesting physical

characteristic. He has no pinkies.



No pinkies?

Twain's only got eight fingers?



No, no. He's got    .

He just doesn't have any pinkies.



-You did your homework good.




-Where'd you dig that up?

-I wrote Twain and asked.



Good thinking.



-What's the matter?

-Wouldn't you know, out of gas.



I saw a station

about five miles back, Sam.



I want you to know l'm gonna be

waiting for you, baby.



Here's the bridge, Pop.

Doesn't look safe to me.



One way to find out.

Drive across.



Aren't you gonna come with me?



Weight of two men

may be too much for bridge.



Then why do l get to drive?



Because l smart enough

to get out first.



I'm not gonna make it.

It's gonna collapse.



Not worry.

Father find other way to house.



I made it, Pop!

l made it!



Good! Good!

Now come back and get adopted father.



Look at invitation.

What number of house?







 -  Twain's house.






-Did you see that?




Neither did l.



Stop! Do not move.



Something's wrong here.



-What is it?

-Do not ask questions. Do as l say.



When l tell you jump, you jump.



One, two, three...






Holy Shanghai!



Nice counting.

But how'd you know?



Look on ground.



Even had correct shoe size.



Someone gone great trouble...


            make welcome guests

not so welcome.



Ring bell, please.



Are you nuts?

Someone's trying to kill us.



Yes. Should make exciting weekend.

Ring, please.



I wish it was Monday morning.



Well, here goes.



They're killing someone in there!



-Calm yourself.

-Didn't you hear her scream?



No. You heard scream.



More experienced ear heard doorbell.



Listen again.



Mr. Twain has

macabre sense of humour, yeah?



Good evening.

We have been expecting you.



But in what condition?

Roof in need of repair.



Indeed. I'm afraid

the house is falling apart.



-May we come in, please?

-I'm sorry. I thought you were in.



You are Mr. and Mrs. Charleston?



Not quite.



I am lnspector Wang

of Catalina, please.



This adopted son, Willie.



I trust you had a pleasant journey

despite the storm?



Strange weather.



Storm only outside when inside.



That. That's just one

of Mr. Twain's little toys.



An electronic device.



Mr. Twain,

as you will soon discover...



...prefers his atmosphere murky.



-May l have your bags, sir?

-No, no.



Son will get bags.

That is why l adopted him.



Very good, sir.



One moment, please,

while l close the door.



Now, if you will follow me,

l will show you to your room.



Very large house.

No other servants?



I'm not sure.

I've never seen anyone.



Mr. Twain asked me to see

that you're made comfortable...



...and to say he'll

join you after dinner.



After dinner?

Host not have dinner with guests?



No. Mr. Twain prefers to eat out.



-Wait, please. What that?

-That? lt's nothing. Just the cat.



That cat?



You feed cat dog food?



I'm afraid he's

a very angry cat, sir.



Mr. Twain had him fixed,

and he didn't want to be.



Big house, huh, Pop?



Big house like man

married to fat woman:



Hard to get around.



Here we are.

I'm sure you'll find this suitable.



-It's a cold house.

-I've taken care of that.



You'll find a nice, cosy fire

in your room.



It's a bit smoky, sir.



I'm afraid that fireplace

hasn't been used in years.



-At least the bed will be warm.

-If you wish anything, please ring.



-Where buzzer?

-It's behind the bed, sir, there.



Dinner will be at  :  ...



...and Mr. Twain

likes his guests to dress.



The doorbell. Excuse me.



Wow! What a creepy guy.



Why would anyone want to hire

a blind butler?



For one thing, very cheap.



How butler know

how much he get paid?



Drink this. You'll feel better.



If Myron hadn't barked,

we'd have missed the statue falling.



It wasn't meant to kill.

It's a warning.



Somebody's trying

to frighten us. Why?



Whatever his reason,

he's doing well.



-Why hasn't anybody answered?

-Don't ring it! Knock, don't ring.



I won't, l promise.



-What is it now, Myron?

-Up there, Dora. Look.



-A blind butler.

-Don't let him park the car, Dickie.



Good evening.

We have been expecting you.



We let ourselves in.

Dick and Dora Charleston.



Good evening.

We have been expecting you.



Your room is ready,

if you'll just follow me, please.



Don't mind him. It's just the cat.



-We left our luggage in the trunk.

-I'll get it later...



...when l park the car.



-Was that Mr. Wang's car out front?

-Yes. They're resting in their room.



I've put you in the same wing

as Mr. Wang.



Isn't that nice?

We're in Wang's wing.



Not many people come

to the manor these days.



It's nice to hear guests again.



-Thanks. You are?




Thank you, Benson.




My name is Bensonmum.




-Yes, sir. Jamesir Bensonmum.




-Yes, sir.



-Jamesir Bensonmum?

-Yes, sir.



-How odd.

-My father's name, sir.



What was your father's name?



-Howard Bensonmum.

-Howard Bensonmum?



Leave it. I've had enough.



Here we are.

The late Mrs. Twain's room.



She died in here.



-Oh, dear.

-Died of what?



She murdered herself

in her sleep, sir.



-You mean suicide?

-Oh, no.



It was murder, all right.



Mrs. Twain hated herself.



We keep this room locked.



-Why is that?

-Mr. Twain loved her very much.



He's kept her room just as it was

the night she choked herself...



...nine years ago.



Madam loved it here.



She said it was

the cheeriest room in the house.



-The doorbell.

-That was Mrs. Charleston.



-I thought she was here.

-I am.



I will not stay in this filthy room.



Very well, madam.

I'll attend to it during dinner.



-Thank you, Benson, sir.





-Bensonmum. Ma'am.



Baking flour.




-This dust is baking flour.



And these cobwebs-- Candied sugar.



All placed here for the purpose

of frightening us.



And that mouse--

Obviously a mechanical toy.




-What is?



I am. It's real.



-Stop the car. We're here.

-That's why l stopped.



-Open my door.

-You have chocolate on your face.



The candy bar's on your face.



-Imbecile, that's my moustache!

-Lick it and see.



Wipe it off.

My hands are sticky.



Hold still, please.






All in good time.






Who's there?



Who's there, l say?



Filthy neighbourhood.



Didn't l say "jump"?



" Un, deux, trois, jump."

Why don't you listen?



-Leave me alone.




Who are you?



You must be the new kitchen maid.

I hope you can cook.



Answer me. Speak up.



What's that?

l can't hear you.



A little shy, are you?

Never mind.



There will be     for dinner.



Here is the menu.



Is that understood?

And dinner will be at  :  .



When l want you, that bell on the wall

will ring three times.



All right. Get to work.




I am saying, " Hello, hello."



-It's dead, sir.




Who is? Who are you?



The butler, sir.



The butler, eh?

l thought as much.



That phone has been out of order

for the past week, sir.



Is that a fact?



And l say that this wire

has been snipped not one hour ago...


            you can plainly see.



What is your name?



Your little jest escapes me.



I am Monsieur Milo Perrier.



He was injured

by a falling gargoyle...



...while standing

in Chinese footprints.



We rang, a woman screamed...



...a mouse ran through the door.



As you can plainly see,

l miss nothing.



Since we can't call a doctor...



...l will need a cold compress

and hot chocolate, n'est-ce pas?



We don't have n'est-ce pas, sir.

Just Hershey's.



I'll call the maid.



I'll fetch it for you myself, sir.



In the meantime, if you'll be

good enough to follow me to your room.



Get up. Get up.



There's something about him

l do not trust.



Notice how his eyes

never look at you.



He's blind, monsieur.






There's the house now.



-What's the matter?

-My feet are killing me.



Why didn't you tell me we needed oil

before l went back for gas?



I gave you $  

and the gas was $ .  .



Maybe you'd come back. Maybe not.

I couldn't risk it.



-Don't you trust me, Sam?

-Trust you?



The last time that l trusted a dame

was in Paris in      .



She said she was going to get wine.



Two hours later,

the Germans marched into France.



I'm sorry, Sam.



Sorry nothing.

Give me my change.



Dinner will be at  :  .



I'll have the maid

bring your chocolate.



-One moment, my good man.




Thank you. That will be all.



He's blind, all right.

Those were my funniest faces.



It's not exactly

the Copacabana, is it?



I don't feel good about this.

Maybe tonight your luck runs out.



Maybe so. There's a number

on the wall for all of us.



If tonight's the night

they pick mine, so be it.



After you, sweetheart.



-First, kiss me, Sam.

-I don't kiss.



Just this once, Sam.



I don't like kissing.

Now leave me alone.



My God!



-He's dead!

-I beg your pardon?



Sam Diamond is lying out there.

He's been crushed to death.



I'm going to faint.

Catch me.



Madam. Madam, where are you?



Hold it right there.

Freeze, blinky!



Get your hands up.

Turn your face to the wall.



All right, angel.

You can get up now.



Turn around, Jeeves.



Your concrete Christmas present came

two seconds early, no thanks to you.



I apologize for

any unfortunate mishap, sir.



-May l put my hands down?

-Don't test your luck, Shakespeare.



I got your invitation to dinner...



...but l didn't realize

l'd be the main course.



I had a kid brother

who got it the same way...



...working on a case like this

two years ago.



That boy would've been   

on Tuesday.



For two cents, l'd take this--

Get him away from me! Get him away.



Get him away before l stuff him

like a tiger trophy...



...his limey pals

like to hang up on saloon walls.






He has a dreadful temper,

hasn't he?



 :   time for dinner.



Is everything ready?



I don't smell anything.



Very light on the seasoning,

are you?



Put the soup in a tureen

and keep the squabs on low.



I'll serve cocktails.



When you hear the bell,

bring out the chilled asparagus...



...and turn up the flame

on the squabs.



Have you got that?



You didn't tell me how l look.



No different than always--




-Do you love and adore me?

-I love and adore you.



-You have the best tush in high society.

-Years of horseback riding.



Getting to bottom of things?



-Ah, Wang. You remember--

-Of course.



-Nice to see you, Ah Wang.

-Always a pleasure.



What a beautiful gown.

Tell me where you got it.



This? This an old dress.

Had it for years.



Please to meet adopted son, Willie.



East meets West

in a most bizarre setting.



I didn't know you were invited.

You know Wang.



I had the pleasure

of dining in Shanghai...



...many years ago with lnspector Wang.



You remember. Yes.



You had " hong ching chu"

and l had " kow dung woo fong."



My wife, Dora. Inspector Perrier.



I'm sorry. Our room is so dusty.



My fault.

I should have blown first.



May l present my secrétaire

and chauffeur Marcel Cassette.



-Recovered from your accident, Marcel?

-But how did you know?



From the way you bend.



Your right side

smashed in by a Citroën.



I detected a slight

metallic sound...


            l think you have

an artificial hip. Steel?



Aluminum. You're as quick as ever,




And you, Charleston...



...did not approve of

Mrs. Charleston dying hair blond?



I beg your pardon?



Mrs. Charleston hair red.



You have blond hairs on shoulder.



That means she has dyed red hair

to blond then back again to red.



Or else you have been--



So sorry. Wang is wrong.

Shall we go to dinner, please?



-Boy, Pop, you sure put your--

-Shut Japanese mouth.



It must be ghastly

to have a hip removed.



-Does it hurt?

-Only in damp weather.



-Are you all right?

-Pay no attention. You'll spoil him.



Get up. Get up.



-As l was saying, Mr. Charleston--

-Hey, Pop.



A treacherous road

like fresh mushrooms--



I know. Dog stick tongue

out of picture.



Treacherous road

like fresh mushrooms.



He's a charming fellow.



African death mask.

Died in some tribal ritual.



Wonder where others are.






What others?



Invitation to dinner and murder

finally clear to Wang...



...with appearance

of Monsieur Perrier.



It's obvious that the world's

greatest detectives were invited.



Five of us, darling.

Three are here.



Two have not yet arrived.



-Miss Jessie Marbles of England.




Sam Diamond of San Francisco.



I know who you all are.



The lady in the dress is my secretary

and mistress, Tess Skeffington.



-Sam, don't.

-I'm sorry, sweetheart.



She doesn't like it

when l'm brutally honest.



Then again, we're all

in a brutal business.



Never considered murder

to be business, Mr. Diamond.



Is that right, Mr. Wang?



Maybe not for you, since you put your

money in vegetables in the late '  s.



Our friends don't know

that you own    percent...



...of the bean sprouts and the bamboo

shoots grown in China.



You can imagine how much

chicken chow mein...



...goes into his pot each year.



-Do l have the figures right?




What does this have to do

with anything?



Or you, Mr. Perrier.



You work both sides

of the big drink.



Pretty good pickings,

solving crimes for barons...



...and putting your fees

into Swiss banks.



Three trips a year buys

a lot of hot chocolate.



See here, Diamond--



You see here, Mr. Charleston of

New York, Palm Beach and Beverly Hills.



Crime's a hobby to you, isn't it?



It's a game to wile away the time

while you wait for room service...



...while your wife's dough buys

martinis and your $    suits.



That's nice, when all

you gotta do...


            give your wife a grab now

and then and take the dog for a leak.



Sorry to shock you, but l never

went to finishing school.



My school is the streets...



...and the barrel of a revolver

is my teacher.



I get $   a day in expenses

when l can get them, gentlemen.



I owe Miss Skeffington three years

back pay. Ain't that right?



-I don't care about the money.

-Neither do l.



If one of you would be

so kind as to give my friend...



...a glass of cheap white wine,

l'm going down to find the can.



I talk so much sometimes,

l forget to go.



Please excuse Sam.

He was shot in the head last week.



He shouldn't be

out of the hospital.



-I think he's damned honest.

-Dickie, language.



Miss Jessica Marbles and nurse.



Miss Marbles.

So we finally meet.



I've admired you ever since

l was tiny little detective.



Thank you, Mr. Wang.



I am Jessica Marbles.



This is Miss Withers, my nurse.

She's been with me    years.



I have to take care

of the poor dear now.



Are you all right, Miss Withers?

Do you want your medicine now?



She's off. I could use

a good, stiff shot, Mr. Charleston.



I believe booze, as you call it,

is your department.



-My pleasure, madam.

-Who's the old geezer?



Jessie, baby!



-You have a bullet hole in your back.

-You should see the other guy.



Quiet, please.



Observe strange sound.



My God, it's the face.

It's coming from the face.



He's going through

his final moments.



-What could it mean?

-It means dinner, sir. We have no gong.



Ladies and gentlemen,

l'd like to make a toast.



Our host, Mr. Lionel Twain,

is indeed a most unique man.




He's succeeded in gathering...



...the world's greatest detectives...


            investigate a crime

not yet committed.



Two: He's set traps for us:



A bridge that almost collapses,

falling statues.



Does he mean to kill us?



Not yet. He could've done that

at any time.



He's merely trying to whet

our appetites for the game.



Three: Why five detectives

instead of one?



Because he intends

to take us all on...



...a feat that no criminal mind

has yet attempted.



Before this hellish

weekend begins...



...l propose that we toast...


            either a most beguiling

and charming man...



...or to an insidious,

fiendish madman.



-Bottoms up.

-One moment.



Point four: Wine poisoned.



An ancient, tasteless, colourless

and odourless Oriental herb...



...that kills instantly.

Observe, please.



Great Scott, Mr. Wang.

You saved our lives.



Not quite, Mrs. Charleston.



Bon appétit.



Since Wang was the one who could

detect poison, only he was tested.



Point five:



Mr. Twain is both beguiling

and fiendish.



-Get a doctor, quick.

-No, no. It's all right.



My wine is not poisoned.

It was just a bad year.



Good work, Mr. Wang.



We must all be on our guard

through every course of the meal.



You're all forgetting one thing.



This makes the butler suspicious.

He poured the wine.



How would he know which

one to serve the poisoned glass to?



That's very simple.



Blind people have

a very keen sense of smell.



Since we're Anglo-Saxon

and Mr. Wang's son is Japanese...


            wouldn't be hard

to sniff out the Chinaman.



See here.

That's a tacky thing to say.



It's a tacky world,

Mr. Charleston.



-Isn't that right, angel?

-That's right.



Quiet, please.

Butler approaches.



I apologize. I'm having

communication problems with the cook.



Who poured the wine?



Mr. Twain, sir.



It was left for me

in the refrigerator.



I was told to give Mr. Wang

the glass with the sticky stem.



And you didn't ask why?



I was lucky to find

the refrigerator.



-If l may serve the soup now?

-By all means.



Yes, l'm famished.



One moment.



-Where is the soup?

-In your dish, sir.



There is nothing in my dish

but my dish.



-I don't understand, sir.

-Here, take the spoon.



Taste it for yourself.



I see what you mean, sir.



If you'll excuse me, l'd better

have a little talk with the cook.



Murder by starvation.

Maybe that's his game.



-What do you think?

-I don't know. Ask the moose.



He's been watching

since we came in.



Ten people for dinner,

and l'm serving them hot nothing!



You can't get good help today.



You're fired, you understand?




I want you out,

do you hear? Out!



And stay out.



Something just occurred to me.



-The seating's all wrong.

-How so?



-I'm sitting next to Dora.

-So what?



-She's your wife.




The husband's never seated

next to the wife.



I should be on the opposite side.

Will you trade?



-Now, Mr. Charleston?

-Now, Mr. Wang.



Another test that could

have cost us our lives.



Saved only by the fact

that l am well-bred.



Lucky it wasn't me.

I'd have been chopped liver.



Silence, please. Do not panic.

No person move from place.



Someone just came in.

I hear footsteps.



Wait! Quiet, everyone!



-I smell something.

-What is it?



Good God! Franks and beans!



I'm afraid that's all we have,




You know how l get

when you touch me there.



My hands are in my pockets.



-They're my pockets.




Dickie, behave yourself.



Good evening,

ladies and gentlemen.



I'm your host, Lionel Twain.



Good God, what an entrance!



A bit theatrical, Miss Marbles,

but l do so love illusion.



Please forgive my hat.

I'm losing my hair.



I thought Twain was

an older man, say      .



Seventy-six to be exact,

Mr. Diamond.



How do l look so young?

Quite simple.



A complete vegetable diet,

    hours' sleep a night...



...and lots and lots of makeup.



-I trust you're all comfortable.

-Comfortable, Mr. Twain?



Is that what you call poisoned wine

and near decapitation?



No. I call it inspiration.



You haven't explained the mechanical

and culinary attempts on our lives.



Merely games, Monsieur Perrier.



Pitting wits with you,

so to speak.



Pit your wits with me

and you won't have wits to pit with.



You're spitting on the nurse.



Sorry, old lady.

Crazy broad should be in bed.



We have been here four hours...



...and there hasn't been

a hot dinner or a corpse.



-I must therefore bid you adieu.

-I bid one adieu as well.



No one is leaving this house.



What meaning of this, Mr. Twain?



I will tell you, Mr. Wang,

if you can tell me...



...why one of the most brilliant

minds of the century...



...can't say prepositions

or articles.



"The," Mr. Wang.

"What is the meaning of this?"



That what l said.

What meaning of this?



The meaning of this is...



...that l have decided to prove,

beyond any doubt...



...that the greatest criminologist in

the world is sitting at this table...



...and you are all looking at him.



No, don't look at each other!



Look at me! l'm the greatest!

l'm number one!



To me you look like number two.

Know what l mean?



-What does he mean?

-I'll tell you later. It's disgusting.



In all your adventures,

monsieurs and madames...



...none of you has ever had

an unsolved murder.



Your reputations exist

on this single fact.



But what would the world say

if the five greatest detectives...



...found themselves trapped

in a house, shut off from the world...



...only to discover

a dead body...



...stabbed     times in the back

with a knife...



...and not one of you able

to solve the crime?



-You mean murder?

-We're talking shop.



Yes, murder, Mrs. Charleston!



On the stroke of midnight...



...someone in this house

will be murdered.



Left out one small detail,

Mr. Twain.



Who victim?



" ls the." " ls the."



"Who is the victim?"

That drives me crazy!



-Sounds like a short ride to me.

-Does it?



Well, we shall see who is sane

and who is crazy around here.



Mr. Wang...



...the victim is here at this table

at this very moment...



...and so too, ladies and gentlemen,

is the murderer.




-Yes, dear.



We're going to have

a lovely murder-poo.



Push her wheelchair down the driveway.

We got business.



-You know who's gonna get it?




-And how it'll be committed?




And what time

murder take place?



"The" murder. Precisely.



It's not my business, but doesn't

that mean you're the murderer?



No wives. I refuse to

discuss this with wives.



All fingers do point to you.

Not much of a challenge.



Shall l make it more interesting?



One million dollars

to the one who solves the crime.



Wagered against your reputations.



One million dollars, tax-free.



In addition, the paperback rights

and the film sale.



It's     :   amigos...



...just one hour before death

strikes someone in this room.



See you at midnight.



See here, Mr. Twain!



-He's gone!

-No, he's not. He's down there.



Fast little bunny, ain't you?



I've never moved, Mr. Diamond.



I'm still down there.

A stunt with mirrors.



Is that so?

Willing to risk seven years' bad luck?



Try it, Mr. Diamond.



It's your funeral, butterball.



Wait. Sometimes it doesn't work.



You've won this round,

Mr. Diamond.



My turn comes at midnight.



I hope he knows

how to stop that thing.



Anybody offering a million bucks to

solve a crime that ain't happened...



...has lost more upstairs than hair.



What do we do?

Sit and wait to be butchered?



And what has happened

to the butler?



Why has he not returned?

With our dinner?



-Go look for him.




-No one to leave this room.

-Why not?



Twain say victim at this table.



If we stay together, crime

cannot be committed without witnesses.



He's right.

You're one smart Chinaman.



Let's join hands. The chain's stronger

if the links are unbroken. Join hands.



Stop that.



-Stop it, l said.

-What is it, Diamond?



She's giving my palm the finger,

the dirty broad.



Naughty, naughty, Miss Withers.



-Good God!







-What's she doing?

-She's screaming.



-What's happened?

-Something wrong in kitchen.



-With our dinner!




-Is someone there?

-Someone with dinner?



Cook cannot speak or hear.



" l think butler is dead.



My name is Yetta.

I don't work Thursdays."



Ask her if she sleeps in.



We'll investigate.

Someone must go.



Not alone. Mr. Charleston,

Mr. Diamond, stay.



Miss Marble, Mr. Perrier and Wang,

we'll investigate.



That's right,

just let it all out.



Here. Oh, dear.



Careful, Wang!








Here, take my handkerchief.



-Is he--?

-He look like--



Seems like.



Touch nothing!




Quite so.






No pulse.



No heartbeat.



If condition does not change,

this man is dead.



No signs of foul play.



Hold on!



What's this?



What do you make of this, Perrier?



Poison, n'est-ce pas?



Not n'est-ce pas. Cocoa.



So at last we have our murder.



Not quite. Twain say murder victim

sitting at our table.



Butler not at our table.



Butler only killed to divert us

from real murder still to come.






One of the knives is missing.

The butcher's knife, l'll wager.



-The others are in danger.

-What's exact time?



    :   and    seconds.



Fifty-seven, fifty-eight--



Tell me when to stop.      --



   minutes to main murder.

Back to dining room.



Must all be together at midnight.



One moment!






-What is it?

-A bill.



Everything here has been rented:

The butler, the food, the chairs.



-You mean--?




This entire murder

has been catered.



It's Twain's doing.

The man is mad.



Mad, yes, but no fool.

I only hope we are in time.



Door locked.



Diamond probably locked

it from the inside.



Good thinking on Diamond head.



Diamond, it's Perrier.

It's all right. Open up.



Diamond? Charleston?

Are you in there?



Go back to kitchen, get dining

room key from pocket of dead butler.



Don't say "dead butler." lt's bad

enough l have to reach in his pocket.



Holy merde.



Miss Skeffington!



Miss Skeffington!

Miss Withers!



-He's gone.




The butler's body is missing.

Here's the key.



-Where you find key?

-In his pocket.



-What pocket?

-The butler's.



-Butler gone, but pocket there?




Someone stole him

but left his clothes.



Open the door.

Something is very wrong here.



Hello. Where is everyone?



Room filled with empty people.



I'll try the other door.



It's locked from the inside.



Both doors locked

from inside, yet no way out.



I don't like it one bit.



I like it,

but don't understand.



Maybe other way out of room,

secret passageway perhaps.



Wrong. There are no

secret passageways, Mr. Wang.



-You spoke?

-Not me.



I spoke.



There! Voice come from cow

on wall!



Moose! Moose, you imbecile!



What have you done

with the others, you short madman?



Stumped already.

Need some clues, Mr. Perrier?



I need no clues from you. I find my

own, you demented lollipop!



Man who argue with cow

is like train without wheels.



-Soon get nowhere.

-I'm sick of fortunes!



-Man who's sick of fortune--

-I said l was sick of this!



-Quiet, gentlemen, please!

-Cow talk again.



In need of a hint, Miss Marbles?



You all mistake what you assume

They never left the dinina room



Count the numbers one to   

Turn the knob and try aaain



What does that mean,

they never left the room?!



-They did.

-Do not mistake what you assume.



-Back out in hall.

-What for?



We assume others not here,

but cow say they are in dining room.



Let us look once more.



Please close door, Mr. Perrier.



-I can't see what good--




Seven, eight, nine,    .



Miss Marbles, be so kind

as to open door.



Where were you?

We was worried.



Where were you?



Here. Didn't you say not to leave?



-You have not left this room since?

-Certainly not.



Answer simple...



...but question very hard.



-Where's the butler?

-Completely murdered.



Poisoned. One of

the butcher's knives is missing.



We came back here,

but the doors were locked.



I went to get the key from the butler.

His body was gone.



He'd been stripped

and his clothes left.



I don't understand. Why would anyone

want to steal a dead, naked body?



Well, dear,

there are people who--



That's tacky. That's really tacky.



Then we returned here...



...opened the door,

but the room was empty.



You were all gone.



The moose had told us not to assume

that you'd left the dining room.



So we counted to    

and tried it again.



And here you were.



I'm not one to use hyperbole,

but l'll tell you this.



For the first time in my life,

l had the ca-ca scared out of me.



I like her.

I really like her.



-Gunshots, monsieur.

-Gunshots, Pop.



Gunshots, Dickie.



This time Charleston and l will go.

Everybody else stay here. Let's go.



What do you make

of all of this, Wang?



Is confusing.



" lt" ! " lt" is confusing!

Say your goddamn pronouns!



Open the door.



-Good God!

-What is it?



He's back.



And au naturel.



I don't get it. First they steal

the body and leave the clothes.



Then they steal the clothes

and bring the body back.



-Who would do that?

-Possibly a deranged dry cleaner.



What about the gunshots?



Why shoot him

when he's been poisoned?



We heard shots, but l don't see bullet

holes. Not on his head or chest.



-Look all over him.

-All over his body?



Somebody has to.

I'm standing guard.



I'll stand guard. You look.



We'll take turns.



You look over the first dead

naked body, l'll look over the second.



Hurry up.

We only got eight minutes.



See anything?



No, l don't see

a bullet hole anywhere.



-Hold it. I see something.

-What is it?



Forget it.

Not a bullet hole.



If he wasn't plugged,

what about the shots?



-Divide and conquer.




Another diversion.



He gives us meaningless clues,

dangles red herrings...



...bedazzles us with banalities...



...while seconds tick away

towards the terrible murder.



You're good. Not my kind of cop,

but smart, and you smell good.



You're not a pansy,

but what the hell are you?



Classy, l suppose.



-Dames fall for a guy like you.

-I don't see--



Ever make it with a waitress?



A waitress.

Big, fat waitress.



I don't know about society dames...



...but you ain't had it till you

made it with a big waitress.



If you're ever interested,

you give me a call.



Bizarre little twit.



I'm still not sure about this guy.



-What are you doing?

-I have to wash--



I'll be out in a minute.



I'll go ahead.

I'll tell the others.



You're never gonna

believe this, folks.



All right, where are you?



What the hell is going on here?



Wash up later.

We got problems.



Locked from the inside.



That can only mean one thing...



...and l don't know what it is.



You're never gonna believe--



I'll be out in a minute.



I don't remember

closing that door.



What happened?



What were the gunshots?



Did anybody leave

since we were gone?



-It happened to you too.

-Where's my Dickie?



Sorry. Where's my husband?



Two minutes to midnight,

if anyone is interested.



It ain't possible, l say.



Eight people in a dining room

can't turn into an empty room unless--



-Unless what, Sam?

-Unless it never happened.



I see your point, Diamond.



When is a room with people

not a room with people?



-When it is two dining rooms.




Two dining rooms?



Two dining rooms, two everything.

Twain electronic genius.



He's devised

a way to move the room...



...silently, in the flash of an eye...


            be replaced by

an exact duplicate.



-I knew it all the time.




I'll demonstrate.

I'll walk out the door...



...close it, knock three times, enter,

and you will all be gone. Observe.



I have it figured out.

There are two of everything.



Dickie, that's old news.



Everybody take their seats.



-I'm scared, Sam. Hold me.

-Hold yourself. I'm busy.



Take the same seats

from before.



Forty seconds!

l'm very worried about Mr. Perrier.



I'll look for him.



No. Sit, please.

No one to leave room.



The other door.



It's locked. I can't open it.



Hurry, man!

We have     seconds!



Move your hand, chauffeur.



Don't ask.



-Why are you wearing the butler's outfit?

-I said don't ask! l don't know.



It all happened too quickly.



The cook.

Where's the cook?



-She's gone.

-Never spoke.



Ten more seconds.

Quickly, sit and join hands.



Impossible for murder

to happen without witnesses.





It's over.



We're safe and sound.



That's probably the cook.

Come in.



The poor woman's deaf.



I'm sorry. I forgot.

Come in!



Not sound like cook to me.



Mr. Twain.



You appear to be wrong.



Nobody here murdered.

Please to come in.



Is he dead?



With that in him,

in the long run he's better off.



-Touch nothing!

-Stop that.



We're experienced




I find it insulting and redundant

to say "touch nothing."



-Quiet, woman.

-Up yours, fella.



Most amusing. Bickering detectives

like making giant lamb stew:



-Everything go to pot.

-Be quiet!



Shut up, all of youse!

Nobody move!



-Stay where you are!

-What is it?



I have to go to the can again.

I don't wanna miss nothing.



I'm going too, Sam.



I'd rather do this alone, Tess.

Thanks anyway.



The cook.



What, darling?



It's obvious.

The cook murdered him.



The butler's dead.

All of us were in this room.



No one could get in.

That leaves the cook. Right?






What makes you certain of this?



To drive a knife that far up a man's

back, you need a strong arm.



And this arm don't look

that strong to me.



-Is that her arm?

-It ain't the pussycat's tail.



Don't be alarmed, miss.

It ain't real.



For that matter,

neither is the cook.



I found this

before l got to the can.



Got a little surprise

for you folks.




-A mannequin!



A dummy,

perfect in every detail...



...with the exception of not being

able to make her speak.



Hats off to the man

with the shiv in his back.



Except that he's dead,

he's no dope.



Nice going, Sam.



I hope you realize that

someone in this room is a murderer.



For sake of ladies present...



...may we return to drawing room?



My son will cover up Mr. Twain.



-Why do l do the work?

-Your mother not here to do it.



Come, please.



Excuse me.



I'm getting a headache. Isn't there

a way to turn off that machine?



Maybe some gadget

outside the window.



It's raining this time.



Let's get to business

and sort the facts.



It is now    :   Sunday morning.



The doors and windows

will open at dawn.



One of us will be

a million dollars richer...



...and one will go

to the gas chamber to hang.



One, Monsieur Perrier? Why not two?

We all have associates.



Why not six or eight?

l don't trust any of youse.



Maybe l'm a patsy set up for a fall,

but l'm not falling for youse.



Not even me?



Why don't you fall in love with

the Jap kid and get off my back?



Can we get back to case, please?



Time is late and my eyes

are getting tired.



-Thought they always looked like that.

-Knock it off!



Sorry. This case is getting

on my nerves. I'm sorry, slanty.



Thank you. Now then, facts,

please, facts.



Mr. Twain predicts murder. Predicts

victim to be at table, correct?






This is official.




Predicts murder to take place at

midnight and number of stab wounds.



How, if he not in collaboration

with murderer?



-What if Twain did it himself?

-Murdered himself?



For what possible reason?

And how?



The motive is simple: ego.



If we weren't to solve this,

he'd be the world's best detective.



With an ego like his, that he died

for it is a small price to pay.



Any man who can create

this chamber of electronic marvels...



...would be able to devise a machine

to stab him in the back     times.



That was wonderful.

I'm so proud.



-Let's go to bed, quickly.

-One moment.



Very interesting theory...



...but you overlook

one very important point.



-And that is?

-It's stupid.



It's most stupid theory

l ever heard!



-Do you have a better one?

-Yeah, much better one.



You see, l have been

doing my homework.



For example,

l have information...



...that your wife's

portfolio of stocks...



...was seriously depleted

in financial crisis.



In short, you are flat broke.

You've been borrowing for two years...


               % interest

from Mr. Lionel Twain.



Broke? ls this true?



I was saving it for your birthday.



One million dollars would buy...



...great many tight suits,

would it not?



-See here, Wang--

-Dead broke?



Almost, darling.

I have $  .    and some stamps.



But l didn't murder Twain.

You do believe that?



-We'll talk. We'll see.

-It could have been any one of you.



Each one of us was out

of that room at one time...


            ample opportunity

to commit the crime.



As for motives,

there's more than ego and cash.



For example, revenge.



Meaning what, Mr. Charleston?



I'm not the only one who's had

a past experience with Twain.



He was quite a ladies' man in his day.



Are you suggesting

someone here--



Was once in love

with Lionel Twain.



He was engaged to and jilted...



...Miss Jessica Marbles.



Jesus H. Christ!



Jilted    years ago at the altar.



Left her there

in that same tweed outfit.



-Is this true, Jessie?

-I was not jilted.



I walked out on him.



He wanted to fool around

before the wedding.



And being the lady you are,

you refused.



Not completely. But it got out of hand.

He was horrid, but l didn't kill him.



That's good enough for me.

What about you?



I'm not a Frenchy!

l'm a Belgy!



And as for other motives,

how about patricide?



The killing of one's own parent?



You mean that Lionel Twain was

the father of someone in this room?



He wasn't my father.



He was my uncle.



He was very good to me.



He would take me to the circus

and give me candy.



We stopped going

when l was about   .



I'm sorry, Sam.




What kind of a circus was it?



Forgive me, but l was talking about

patricide, not uncle-cide.



Twain may have been your uncle...



...but he was the

illegitimate father of...



...Monsieur Sidney Wang!



It not true.



I was adopted.

I have my papers.



That is why l have adopted

all my children.



I was wondering.



He loved me very much...



...but he was not very observant.



One day when l was    

he called me to his study...



...noticed for first time l was

Oriental, and kicked me out.



-I could have--

-Killed him, Wang?



As easily as you,

Monsieur Perrier.



Lionel Twain killed

the only thing you ever loved:



Marie-Louise Cartier.



Your sweetheart?



My poodle.



He was a most cruel man.



Monsieur would come to France

every season:::


            hunt poodles.



The day they brought...



...her bloodied collar to me,

l vowed l would--



-Knock him off?

-Yes, gladly, if l had the chance.



But l did not.



Someone here beat me to it.



There's more than one reason

that we was invited here.



Not only was Twain testing

us as detectives...



...but we all have motives

for doing him in.



Have not yet heard

your motive, Mr. Diamond.



My motive is unimportant.



Let's say that l hated him enough

to kill him.



You are closed man, Mr. Diamond.

You hide many things.



Could it be that Mr. Twain

discover your secret?



I don't know what

you're talking about.



We know different,

do we not, Miss Skeffington?



Twain picked up Sam in a gay bar.



I was working on a case. Working.



Every night for six months?



I got    bucks a day and expenses.

I hate them queeries.






...had Polaroid pictures

of Sam in drag.



I was in disguise.

Lots of dames go in those joints.



I never kissed nobody.



I never did nothing to a man

that l wouldn't do to a woman.



And l didn't kill Twain.






Most interesting.



All had perfect motives

for killing Twain.



Wonder which one

was one who done it.



We still have

the night to get through.



If anyone's going to solve this,

l say we get a good night's sleep.



And l suggest

we all lock our doors.



One of us is a mad killer...



...and not to be trusted.



Who do you think is the murderer?



Must sleep on it.



Will know in morning when wake up.



What if you don't wake up?



Then you did it.



Go sleep, please.



-Good night, Dad.

-Should have adopted pussycat.



Should l turn off the steam, Pop?



Not steam.



Someone just put

deadly snake in room.



Wake me when it come near bed.



I want you to know, Dickie,

if you're the murderer...



...l'll still love you.



It wouldn't be right for us

to make love, but l'd love you.



No fear of that, pet.

Let's see what we have here.



We have one missing, dead,

naked butler...


            host with

a knife in his back...



...and one scorpion

crawling up our sheets.



-Is that what that is?

-They can kill instantly.



I suggest we don't move.



For how long?



Quite possibly

for the rest of our lives.



Good heavens!

l know who the murderer is.






Yes, Miss Withers.

The murderer is--



Good God! Gas!



I'm sorry. I can't help it.

I'm old.



No, no. The other kind of gas.

The kind that kills.



-Sometimes my gas--

-It's seeping in through the vent!



It's locked from the outside.






Doesn't smell that bad to me.






Did l do right, Sam,

telling them about the gay bar?



Perfect. They took the bait like a dumb

halibut. Let them think l'm a pansy.



While they're suspecting me,

one of them will let his pants down.



Why do you keep all those naked

muscle men magazines in your office?




Always looking for suspects.



What's that ticking sound l hear?



"That ticking sound is a bomb

that will go off in    seconds.



-Signed, the murderer."

-The door!



" P.S. The door is locked."



I'm sorry about this, Tess.



-Me owing you all that money too.

-That's all right. What will we do?



I got an idea.



I don't know if this will work.

Turn around!



-I'm turned.

-Whatever you do, don't turn back.



-If anything--

-Do as l say.



-I will, Sam.

-Good. Because l think l'm gonna cry.



-What are you doing in my bed?

-There's no place to sleep.



Sleep in the car,

you chauffeur.



Unfair. I will tell everyone

you wear a toupee.



-They already know.

-Why do you wear it?



I didn't know you knew.



Certainly l know.

It's a terrible toupee.



A bomb. Across the hall.



Quickly, the door!



It's locked from the outside.



You look taller to me.

Why is that?



Monsieur, l'm not getting taller.



If you aren't getting taller,

there's one alternative.



The room is getting shorter!



The ceiling is coming down!



-What'll we do?

-I don't know!



But this is exactly how

they make goose liver pâté.



Not so fast, please.



Do not cross out Wang name.



Cross out "snake" instead.



Nice shot, Pop. Sure wish you

weren't such a heavy sleeper.



And now...



...if you please.



One million dollars...



...Mr. Bensonmum.



Banzai, Pop!



Very clever of you, Mr. Wang.



Oh, yes.

As you can see, l can see.



So l see.



Tell me, as the only survivor,

how did you deduce it was me?



Went back to theory

seldom used today:



Butler did it.



I hadn't thought of that.



How do you account for

my dead body?



Body made of plastic,

same as plastic cook.



While we examine plastic butler...


            murder Lionel Twain.



You're a clever little

laundry man, Mr. Wang.



But not quite clever enough!



I'll take that one million dollars,




...alias lrving Goldman.



Irving Goldman?






Irving Goldman was the attorney

of the late Lionel Twain.



Lionel Twain died five years ago.



His body was discovered

in Goldman's filing cabinet.



Am l correct, Mr. Goldman?



Yeah. Correct, Miss Marbles.



But how did you escape

the poison gas?



Quite simple.

I covered my mouth...



...and let Miss Withers here

breathe in all the gas.




-Yes, dear, l know.



-The million dollars, please.

-I wouldn't, Goldman.



Or is it Goldman?



Actually, it's Mr. Marvin Metzner.



Marvin Metzner?



Very good, Mr. Charleston.



But how did you know?



The bill in the dead butler's hand

stating the weekend had been catered.



-Only an accountant would keep that.

-Get the money and let's go.



Goldman died

last month while skiing.



He jumped     feet

into a low-flying plane.



I can't wait much longer.



You've not lost your touch,

Mr. Charleston.



But how did you elude

the deadly scorpion?



We didn't.

He stung Dora.



-We have     minutes to reach a doctor.

-Explain later.



We'll make it. Never fear.

The prize money.



Belongs to me, monsieur.



Marcel, being one of

the world's strongest men...



...stopped your ceiling from crushing

us at four feet, five inches.



It may be months before

we're able to straighten again...



...but a million dollars

will buy a lot of back braces.



Eh, Miss lrene Twain?



Daughter of Lionel!






I prefer to be called Rita.



But how did you know?



Never underestimate

a Frenchman's nostrils, Miss Twain.



At dinner tonight...



...l smelled your Chanel No.  .



You did away with all of them:



Metzner, Goldman

and your father.



If you had your way...


           'd do away with all men,

would you not, Miss Twain?



Men who have made you suffer...



...because you were

born with brains...



...talent, money, everything

but that which you most desired:






It is a statement of fact...



...that as a man you are passable,

but as a woman...


            are a dog.



That's your opinion, big boy.



And now my money, please.



With luck, l can still

make dinner at Maxim's.



I'd just order

a tuna sandwich...



...because that dough is mine.



That's right, l'm alive.



Miss Skeffington

dropped your bomb down the john.



It blew up as she flushed.

The seat missed her head by an inch.



I'm all right, J.J.






That's right, folks.

He outsmarted us all.



Sitting behind that desk

is the real Sam Diamond.



My name is Loomis.



J.J. Loomis. I'm an actor.

I do impressions.



I did the Carson show

six times last year.



Diamond hired me for the weekend.



Miss Skeffington

is Vilma Norman.



She's a cocktail waitress

at the Water Bed Motel in Carmel.



Diamond hated all of you.



You're getting big money, and he

had that office in San Francisco.



If he proved he was number one,

he'd get your clients.



But since l put

all the pieces together...



...l figure that money belongs to me.



Isn't that right, Mr. Diamond?






That would've been so obvious,

a child could have guessed.



No, colleagues.

What you seem to overlook...


            the most simple

and direct solution.



That l am indeed Lionel Twain.



You've all been so clever

for so long...


           've forgotten to be humble.



You've tricked and fooled

your readers for years.



You've tortured us with

surprise endings that made no sense.



You've introduced characters at the

end that weren't in the book before!



You've withheld

clues and information...



...that made it impossible for us

to guess who did it.



But now the tables are turned.



Millions of angry mystery readers...



...are now getting their revenge.



When the world learns

l've outsmarted you...



...they'll be selling your $  .   books

for     cents.



It's checkout time,

ladies and gentlemen.



I have your bills ready.



Credit cards will be accepted.



-Even the scorpion was a fake?

-Everything. The bridge, the maid.



-But you're sure about the scorpion?




Even the fog. He made that with

a dry ice machine. See.



How awfully unromantic.



Then if he really

was Lionel Twain...


            must really be Sam Diamond.

-That's right, baby.



I was in disguise,

in disguise, in disguise.



You work hard for

   bucks in this racket.



I guess that means we won't

see each other again.



Well, that depends.

I'll be around if you need me.



All you gotta do is whistle.



-You know how to whistle, don't you?

-Certainly. What do you mean?



Never mind. Forget it.

You ruined it.



I don't understand.

Was there a murder or wasn't there?



Yes. Killed good weekend.



Drive, please.


Special help by SergeiK