(THUNDER CLAPPlNG)
(GATE CREAKlNG)
(SCREECHlNG)
(DOOR CREAKlNG)
(lNDlSTlNCT WHlSPERlNG)
(CACKLlNG)
(CRYPTKEEPER SPEAKlNG)
It looks like Neptomb has just moved from Virghoul to late Capricorn,
which would mean you should avoid
any serious romantic enstranglements for a while,
at least until the end of the month when Mercury turns retrograde.
Hmm.
Something about your horrorscope isn't making sense.
Let me see your hand.
Yes, interesting.
I'm not much at bleeding palms, but your future seems rather cloudy.
Kind of like the woman in tonight's tale.
She's been contemplating her scar sign, too,
in a nasty nugget I call, "A Slight Case Of Murder."
(HEAVY BREATHlNG)
(GRAVEL CRUMBLlNG)
(TYPEWRlTER CLACKlNG)
"Murder's a tricky business," thought Mulligan.
"Almost as tricky
"as love.
"The end."
Yes!
(HEAVY BREATHlNG)
(DOOR OPENlNG)
Hello, Sharon dear.
I saw you writing away. I didn't want to disturb.
Cup of sugar?
Mrs. Trask.
I wish I could borrow a cup of adjectives instead.
How about a cup of brain cells instead?
Don't think that I'm being pushy, Sharon dear,
but have you had a chance to read my story yet?
(SOFTLY) As much as I could bear.
-Yes. Yes, I did, Mrs. Trask. -Oh, did you like it?
Well, let's just say,
in the pantheon of mystery writers, there's the greats,
there's everyone else who's ever written a book, and then there's you.
Oh, it doesn't sound as though you liked it very much.
Agatha Christie can rest in peace as far as you're concerned.
Thanks for coming.
You'll be pleased to know I've become much more organized.
I even know how my next story is going to end.
Mrs. Trask, I live by one hard-and-fast rule.
In matters of murder, never know the ending till you get there.
Never know. Oh, I like that. In matters of murder, never...
Goodbye.
Well, how is that husband of yours? Is he still away?
Thanks for the sugar.
(CLATTERlNG)
Christ, now what does she want?
Nosy bloody idiot.
You've had it.
Sergeant Dimbleby? It's Sharon Bannister here.
I think I've got a prowler about. Could you send someone?
Oh, really?
Thirty minutes? Well, by that time l...
Yes, I see. Understand.
(WlNDOW CLATTERlNG)
(lNSECTS CHlRPlNG)
Maybe there is someone.
Oh, hell.
(BEEPlNG)
(TELEPHONE BEEPlNG)
-Sergeant Dimbleby? -MAN: No.
Who is this?
Well, it's Larry. Sharon, are you all right?
Larry!
(DOOR BANGlNG)
I think there's somebody here.
Honey, are you all right?
(DOORKNOB RATTLlNG)
Oh, my God.
Sharon?
(DOOR OPENlNG)
They're coming in. They're coming in.
Honey.
Honey? Are you all right?
(SlGHlNG)
Larry, you bastard!
You used to call me biscuit. Come on, admit it.
When you heard my voice, you felt better.
I should take this poker and rearrange your organs.
Now, get out of my house. Get out!
You mind if I warm up a bit first?
Your house? That's not a good sign. Whatever happened to our house?
The only place this was ever our house was in your dreams.
I get the feeling this separation's been harder on me than you.
Pity.
Probably won't like the divorce any better.
I didn't hear your car pull up.
Oh, I didn't bring the car, pumpkin.
I took the train to Chumleigh, hiked the rest of the way.
Hiked? It's 20 miles.
Twenty-one, actually.
I wanted to surprise you.
You know how the local busy-bodies are.
That damned Mrs. Trask. No secrets with her, you know.
Surprise, sweetie.
This is a very sick joke.
The only sick joke I'm aware of is our marriage,
but then again, I'm biased.
I may have been dishonest with you, but I never cheated on you.
-Meaning? -Oh, please...
Larry, I think you'd better go home and sleep this off.
Not drunk, I'm afraid.
Oh, I need the keys to your car.
I'll call a cab.
(GROANlNG)
I don't think you get it, lamby pie.
I'm driving your car out of here.
And when I pass Mrs. Trask's place,
the old bag will watch after your headlights and think to herself,
"l wonder where Sharon's going this time of night."
That is almost clever.
Oh, they'll find your abandoned car in some roadside services.
They'll search for a week or so. But in the end...
-Larry, you don't have to do this. -No?
Oh, I can imagine what kind of settlement your lawyers will offer me.
On the other hand, if you died now...
Plus, throw in a posthumous best seller. Qu'est-ce que c'est, snookums?
(GRUNTS)
Drop it, or I'll put a hole right through that sick little brain of yours.
Ooh. Ouch.
That sounds like a line from one of your stupid books.
(CLlCKlNG)
Some murder mystery writer you are.
The safety's on, you deceitful, two-timing bitch.
Love hurts, doesn't it?
(KNOCK ON DOOR)
MRS. TRASK: Sharon?
It's all right, Sharon. I know where the spare key is kept.
Sharon,
I've got a little riddle for you.
A box with no hinges, key or lid, but golden treasure inside it is hid.
Do you give up? It's an egg, of course!
Poor dear, she's a million miles away.
I'm sorry to disturb you, Sharon.
It's all right. I know where the eggs are kept.
You know, I've been doing all this research, dear.
It's given me so many good ideas.
In my next story, the man dies with a gun in his hand.
And as rigor mortis sets in, his finger tightens on the trigger. Bang!
The Murdered Murderer. What do you think?
Yes, well, I see that you're busy.
To love, honor and obey? Nope.
For richer or for poorer? Nope.
In sickness and in health?
Uh-uh.
Till death us do part.
Well, one out of four ain't bad.
(TlMER DlNGS)
Joey!
Joey?
SHARON: "Dear Cupcake,
"l know I've told you in my letters not to speak to me
"for fear that my husband would find out.
"But the time is coming soon when this wall of silence will be destroyed. "
All right.
Joey!
What?
-Joey! -Oh, bloody hell!
I've told you, Mum, I don't want you bothering me.
Will you take these to Mrs. Bannister?
I think she could do with a bit of cheering up.
Cheering up?
Well, I've got a feeling that she and her husband
aren't getting on very well.
Oh, he's such a violent man.
I won't be surprised a bit if he didn't...
(DOOR OPENlNG AND CLOSlNG)
What?
You know, pet,
when we're alone together and you're all quiet like this,
I could almost fall in love with you again.
Mrs. Bannister?
Sharon?
(LARRY WHlSTLlNG)
Right, then, my pet. Where did you leave your car keys?
(GASPS)
(EXCLAlMlNG)
Damn!
(JOEY BREATHlNG RAPlDLY)
(EXCLAlMlNG)
Oh, my God.
Sharon!
You'll pay for this.
Oh, my gods.
Did Mrs. Bannister like her gingerbread?
Anything going on at the house?
(COCKlNG)
Murder.
Oh, that's wonderful.
Perhaps I inspired her.
(PHONE RlNGlNG)
-Hello? -Hi, lover.
You didn't hit me hard enough.
You always were romantic.
Sharon, where are you?
By the way, thanks for leaving the gun up here.
(EXCLAlMS)
(SHARON LAUGHING)
I think I just figured how to get the safety off.
Bye, biscuit.
(GRUNTlNG)
(KEYCHAlN BEEPlNG)
(GASPlNG)
(GUNSHOT)
(GROANlNG)
(KEYS HUMMlNG)
-You... -You...
Who?
That's it. What an idea!
That's the answer.
Is that the Trask kid?
You're alive. Thank God.
Cupcake's gonna save you.
(GROANlNG)
Cupcake?
You call him cupcake?
(LARRY GRUNTlNG)
I haven't the slightest idea what he's talking about.
Give it up, you lying cow.
I've read the goddamn postcard he sent you.
What postcard?
I never sent you a postcard. You told me never to contact you.
What the hell are you talking about?
For Christ's sake, Sharon, I know you're screwing him.
I wouldn't sleep with that moron if he had the last erection in the universe.
You bitch!
My stomach.
It's like it's on fire.
(RETCHlNG)
Don't move, Larry.
If you weren't sleeping with him, what the flipping hell is going on here?
That's what I want to know.
(DOOR OPENlNG)
Oh, dear.
Call an ambulance.
"Make the husband think the wife is cheating.
"Manipulate the boy to fall in love with the wife.
"Poison the ginger bread so the police will think the boy's committed suicide."
It doesn't say anything on here about calling for an ambulance.
You?
You did this?
Of course, nothing quite went the way I wanted it to.
I was really very surprised.
But you were so right, Sharon,
"ln matters of murder,
"you never know the ending until you get there."
Oh, I'm afraid you're empty, dear.
(CLlCKlNG)
You see, you see, the breech is back. You see, research is so important.
Please, I'll give you anything.
How about your latest bestseller?
I saw it on your writing desk.
You conniving bitch.
Oh, really?
You'll get your sweater all messed up.
I think I'll call it Death By Love Triangle.
Do you like that?
(GROANlNG)
I'll take that as a yes.
Looks like Sharon's due for a little career change
from writing novels to screamplays.
But with a talent like hers, I'm sure she'll just grim and bear it.
(CACKLlNG)
Now I know what's bothering me. You know, the zodi-hack never lies.
You told me you were Sagittarius, but the truth is, you're Pieces.
(LAUGHlNG)