A Kind of Murder Page #4

I have something to hide.

Ellie, can I get you a drink?

No. I have to go.

I have to get up early.

Call me later. Bye Jon.

I know what you're thinking.

Ellie complicates things.

Well, yes.

Until this blows over, I'd keep

Ellie right out of the picture.

I've got one

lying bastard and one...

No. Make that

two lying bastards.

Both killed their wives.

I know it.

I'm watching them. Close.

Look. Stackhouse is

a classic copycat killer.

And Kimmel is a psychopath.

His wife was in the way.

We need more than

your textbook theories, Corby.

I'll give you a lot

more than that.

I don't think it's gonna

be long until I nail this.

Did you know Mrs. Stackhouse?

I only met her once.

Look, this isn't the best

time for me to talk to you.

And I don't like you

touching my things, okay?

I have rehearsal this morning.

I need to be there.

Well.

I'm gonna have to

delay you, Ms. Briess.

See, I'm a bit confused.

Your "friend" lied about where

he was the night his wife died

and now he's lied again.

Not that long ago

another woman's body was found

murdered at the same rest stop.

Mr. Stackhouse says

he'd never heard about it.

But guess what? He had.

I don't understand.

He's got a newspaper clipping

in his scrapbook

all about the case.

This is it.

I appreciate your cooperation.

I'm back.

And I've brought

someone with me.

Mr. Kimmel,

I'd like you to meet

Mr. Stackhouse.

How do you do?

I'm good.

How are you?

You two have a lot in common.

This is your chance

to commiserate.

A strange thing...

Mr. Stackhouse was so interested

in the death of your wife,

that he cut this out

and put it in his scrapbook.

Now why do you think

he would do a thing like that?

Hmmm?

I have no idea.

You should ask him.

I've already told you,

I cut out hundreds of things.

I write stories.

Do you have any particular

literary interests,

Mr. Stackhouse?

I'm always interested

in rare architecture books.

You should browse our shelves.

I have a substantial collection.

I was right.

Common ground indeed.

And why shouldn't there be?

Kimmel...

You're a f***ing liar!

You thought you were

home and dry. Admit it.

This guy, Stackhouse...

He threw a wrench

in your works, all right.

I don't know what you're

talking about, detective.

Are we through?

Yeah.

For today.

Good bye.

This is just too much!

Why, for god's sakes, go look at

a guy whose wife was murdered?

Just look at me and swear

to me you didn't do anything.

- You have to ask me that?

- I just want you to swear.

I did not kill Clara!

I don't know how this

has gotten so out of hand.

I can't get something

you said out of my mind.

What? Tell me. What?

"I have this fantasy

she's no longer there."

Is that the real

reason you lied?

Because you were thinking

about it all the time.

You were thinking about it

long before you met me.

Tony.

Please.

Excuse me, sir.

What do you want?

I wanna say thanks.

Whatever you did,

I want you to know that...

It doesn't matter to me.

I'm not guilty.

- Did it never cross your mind?

- No.

But it obviously crossed yours.

But... I...

I didn't actually do it.

- But I feel...

- What do you feel?

I don't know.

I guess in some way that

we have something in common.

No. We have nothing in common.

We're all guilty of something.

I feel you are my guilt.

And what the hell

does that mean?

It means I share in your guilt.

I may have

thought about it, but...

But you did it.

Get out of here.

Do you realize

what you're doing to me?

You're ruining my life.

I can never tell when that cop

is gonna walk through that door.

I detest you.

Get out of my shop.

- Now.

- I'm sorry.

I really am.

You okay, Mr. Kimmel?

That man pestering you?

Who is he?

Don't you worry.

I deal with customers

like him all the time.

He's a nobody.

Yes!

He was here.

So what?

And what did he have to say?

He said he was sorry

he brought the police down

on the head of an innocent man.

Yeah? And what did you do?

Discuss architecture?

We're both innocent men.

In a similar situation.

Pursued by a man

who invents crimes.

You're a sad b*tch, Kimmel.

Did you murder her for the

simple reason that you thought

that you married beneath you?

For that simple reason?

Who would believe it?

Well. You know what?

I do.

A man of your intellect.

How did you ever

let that happen?

She was always bugging you

with her inane chatter.

So, you...

You got rid of her.

But you never reckoned

on Stackhouse, did you?

Now, admit...

That you know he's guilty

and you're as guilty as he is.

Admit it.

Is everything okay,

Mr. Kimmel?

Mr. Kimmel? You all right?

That's all for today.

See you tomorrow.

Corby is obsessed with me.

You should see him.

He's eaten up. He's uh...

He's got it in his twisted

little mind that I killed Clara.

But Jesus!

To a lot of people

around here...

Certain things do seem

a little hard to figure out.

People can go to hell.

I'm through with it.

Maybe you should think about

taking some time out. You know?

Some sick leave.

Sick leave?

Well, I thought you must need

some time to yourself.

Oh.

You thought that, did you?

Well, thanks a lot, Jon.

Tony, open the door.

- Open up!

- Leave me alone.

I can explain.

Just five minutes.

I'm calling the cops.

Go away.

You just give me five minutes.

Please.

That's all I ask. Five.

Open the door.

A Mr. Schaeffer

is here to see you.

He says he has an appointment.

That's fine Martha. Send him in.

What are you doing here?

I think you owe me.

Corby knows you came

to see me, but I said nothing.

I didn't even give him this.

I think detective Corby might

just make something of this.

Your little visit to your

favorite bookstore in Newark.

I want money.

A discreet arrangement

between you and me.

A serious way of saying sorry.

I'm not giving you

a f***ing cent.

I can make you look very guilty.

No, you can't.

I haven't done anything.

You can't prove anything.

Proof is not the key thing.

It's doubt.

Doubt is everything.

You should know that.

I'll keep this safe.

Until I hear from you.

Detective Corby!

Detective Corby!

Mr. Stackhouse.

I need to talk to you.

I went to see Kimmel.

I know. We've been

watching the shop.

No. I didn't mean

the other day. I went before.

I went before Clara died.

I went

to his bookstore in Newark.

I ordered a book...

I left my name and address.

Jesus Christ.

Boy, I'm impressed.

Can you tell a lie?

Why did you go there?

I wanted to see Kimmel.

Why? I don't get it.

Well, I know it sounds crazy,

but I wanted to see...

If he looked like a man

who could murder his wife.

It... fascinated me.

It fascinated you?

Yeah.

I'm a writer, remember?

As far as excuses go,

that one doesn't fly.

So, why are you telling me?

Well, he's got

my dated order slip.

He just tried to blackmail me.

It's laughable.

No. It's interesting.

Well, it's a little

private transaction. I...

But I feel better

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