Frenzy Page #4

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I don't want to mess things up for you.

Don't worry. It's my half day today.

Where shall I meet you?

I'll be opposite the Leicester Square

Odeon, 4:
00. OK?

OK, at 4:
00. I've gotta run now. Bye.

Don't start lending him money.

You'll never get it back.

Mind your own business.

- He's no good for you, Babs.

- And you are?

Hey, guv! Take a whiff of this!

How far from here was the place

you had lunch, Miss Barling?

About five or ten minutes.

Good afternoon, sir.

Good afternoon, one and all.

This is Miss Barling, sir.

- Would you do the honours?

- Certainly, sir.

The murdered woman is a Mrs Brenda Blaney.

She ran this business, and was found

by her secretary, Miss Barling,

on her return from lunch

at approximately 2:00, sir.

- Afternoon.

- Afternoon, sir.

- Has Miss Barling any ideas?

- She certainly has.

She says she saw

the murdered woman's ex-husband

leaving the building

just as she came back, sir.

I saw him clear as day.

It was Blaney, alright.

He came out of the door downstairs

and walked down the alley.

The beast!

I'm sorry, Miss Barling. I must press you.

Are you sure it was Mr Blaney?

Absolutely! I'd know him anywhere.

He came here yesterday afternoon,

and was perfectly horrid.

He'd been drinking

and insisted on seeing Mrs Blaney.

- And did he see her?

- Yes. She'd never turn anyone away.

- What happened?

- Oh, I don't know.

They started having a row

almost immediately.

Mrs Blaney came out and said I might go.

Quite naturally I didn't want

to embarrass her, so I left.

I couldn't help overhearing that

Mr Blaney was becoming very violent,

both in his language and his behaviour.

- Did he strike Mrs Blaney?

- Yes, I think so.

- There was the sound of a blow.

- I see.

Miss Barling, could you

describe Mr Blaney for us?

What he looked like,

what he was wearing and so on.

Yes, I think I can.

He was a man in his thirties,

about an inch or so under six foot tall.

He had dark hair, green eyes and a moustache.

I estimate his weight at about 155 pounds.

He was wearing a rather old-fashioned jacket

with leather patches

on the shoulders and elbows.

In my opinion, it was

quite unsuitable for London.

He was also carrying a raincoat.

That's an extraordinarily

precise description, Miss Barling.

In my job I've learned to keep

a sharp eye on men, Inspector.

Excuse me.

I found this handbag on the desk,

and there's no sign of any money.

That doesn't make sense.

I cashed a cheque for 50 pounds

for her yesterday lunchtime.

It makes perfect sense to me.

Where does she put her money in this bag?

- Sometimes she zips it in the pocket.

- Mmm.

Have this face powder identified,

will you, Sergeant?

There might be some on the stolen money.

We might be lucky.

Alright, sir.

What about fingerprints?

With all the clowns who come

in here, there'll be dozens.

Coburg Hotel, Bayswater.

Hey, wait a moment.

How can you afford a hotel?

- I'll tell you later.

- OK.

- So, what you been up to, Dick?

- (Sighs) Well, last night

I allowed myself to be pampered

at a Salvation Army hostel.

I tell you, after mixing

with some of the types in there,

one's clothing needs fumigation.

- Smell that.

- Whew!

- You mean you slept there?

- Yeah... spasmodically.

- What? With all the old men?

- Yes, that's it.

We had a high old time.

The conversation was mature,

the Red Biddy flowed down

the odd throats,

and the good fellowship

of the open road prevailed.

- Red Biddy. What's that?

- Blended red wine.

Half vino, half metholated spirits.

- But why, Dick?

- Reasonable terms for bachelors.

- Thirty pence a night, in fact.

- I don't understand.

How can you afford the Coburg?

Well, I managed to get some money.

- Since last night?

- Yeah.

- I, uh, I collected an old debt.

- That was lucky.

Yeah.

OK.

Oooh!

Thank you.

- Double room, please.

- What are you up to? Not here!

- Ssh.

- Would that be with two singles,

or the, uh, matrimonial-size bed?

The mat... Double bed.

- Please.

- Yes. I see.

Three-two-two should suit you.

The Cupid Room.

- Really?

- Yes. It's very cozy.

- lf you'll just sign the register.

- Yes, of course.

Mr and Mrs Oscar Wilde.

- Now, look here, Dick Blaney!

- Oscar, if you don't mind.

- Will you stop playing games!

- (Clerk) Excuse me.

That'll be ten pounds,

plus service charge of two pounds.

Perhaps you'd care to settle now?

- There we are.

- Thank you.

- Room, please?

- Three-two-two, Bertie.

Follow me, please.

You've got 322. That's nice.

Yes. The Cupid Room, I think she called it.

Love's little arrows have struck quite

a few hearts in there, l can tell you.

Oh, yeah.

Can I get you anything

from the pharmacy, sir?

No, thank you.

- Ta.

- Thank you, sir.

- (Blaney) Hey!

- Sir?

Hang on. Can you send this

to the cleaners for me?

- Certainly, sir.

- And this. Tell them that it's urgent.

And, uh, might as well take

the other half as well.

Tell them that I want them sprayed.

Sprayed, sir? With what?

- DDT, my good man. What else?

- Sir?

Death to the lurking roach, porter.

Confusion to the insidious louse.

- Get 'em cleaned and pressed, eh?

- Yes, sir.

Oh, dear!

Hey, Glad, take a look at this.

Oh! Oh, that poor woman.

It's the jacket I'm talkin' about.

The jacket! See what it says?

""The police want to interview a man

seen leaving the matrimonial agency

about the time of the murder.""

""When last seen he was wearing

a tweed jacket with leather patches

on the shoulders and elbows

and carrying a raincoat. '

- What an odd way to patch a jacket.

- It's meant to be like that!

The party in 322 was wearin' it.

Do you mean... Do you mean Mr Oscar Wilde?

That's not his real name, silly.

Oscar Wilde, indeed!

He's the fellow the police are looking for.

Don't you see? He's the necktie murderer.

And we've got him upstairs

at this very minute!

Oh, dear! I only hope that girl isn't

wearing a necktie right now.

I can't believe it! Not in the Cupid Room!

You know, Glad, sometimes just

thinkin' about the lusts of men

makes me want to heave.

Hello. Will you give me the police, please?

Hello, police? I'm the porter

of the Coburg Hotel, Bayswater.

Could you come at once?

I've got this fellow you're looking for here.

You know, the necktie murderer?

He came here with a girl.

Come away, Glad.

You're not to do anything suspicious.

Open up!

Open up! Police!

They must've gone down the back stairs.

But I ask you, in all conscience,

is it likely I would murder a woman

I'd been married to for ten years?

If it was true, it would be horrible.

And rape her... after ten years of marriage?

Violently rape her?

I don't know. Perhaps you was jealous of her.

- Of Brenda? Oh, come off it.

- I didn't know Brenda. It's possible.

Maybe you wanted to get rid of her.

But I had got rid of her.

We were divorced, remember.

We had been for two years.

There was no question of alimony.

She earned far more than me.

You got that money from her, didn't you?

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