Frenzy Page #6

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Well, Sergeant, we were in luck after all.

- That just about does it for him.

- Looks very much like it.

I've never run into any of these

jokers before. What are they like?

Oh, they vary, but not a lot.

The thing to remember is they hate

women, and are mostly impotent.

- Impotent?

- Don't mistake rape for potency.

In the latter stage of the disease,

it's the strangling, not the sex,

that brings them on.

Above all, of course, they're sadists.

- You know what they are, I'm sure.

- Oh, yes, sir.

Mrs Blaney's divorce petition.

It tells you a great deal

about the habits of our hero.

Yeah?

Right. Put him on.

Yes, Chief Inspector Oxford speaking.

My name is Forsythe, Inspector. Felix Forsythe.

I run the Globe Public House, Covent Garden.

I see from the newspaper you're

in charge of these strangling cases.

Yes, that is so.

Good, because I've got

some information to impart.

Now, this man you're looking for,

the one with the patches on his suit.

I know him. He worked here as a barman.

His name is Richard Blaney.

He's a right bastard.

Are you quite certain it's the same man?

Gone off with your barmaid?

What exactly do you mean by ""gone off""?

She's been out all night with him

and hasn't yet returned.

I felt it my duty to tell you that

I consider her to be in great danger.

That is, of course,

if she's still alive and kicking.

Thank you for your information, Mr Forsythe.

Tell me, what does this

barmaid of yours look like?

I can set your mind at rest.

She was alive at 8:00 this morning.

Well, where is she now? We opened at 1 1 :00!

But is she coming back here or not?

She's left all her clothes!

I expect she'll turn up.

Today, ladies abandon their honour

more readily than their clothes.

Thank you for your information,

Mr Forsythe. I'll send someone over.

That was Forsythe, manager of

the Globe Pub, Covent Garden.

I tell you what, Jim,

I'm glad I'm not in the potato business.

- Got enough troubles of me own.

- You're not a bad judge, Bob.

The potato business is poison, always was.

It costs a fortune to dig 'em up,

another fortune to transport them.

And what do you have at the end?

Hardly any money for them.

Mostly you can't sell them.

I've got to send a truckload

back up to Lincolnshire tonight.

And what will they do with them?

They'll plow them back in.

Can you beat it?

And they say

there's people hungry in this world.

True, Jim.

And there are a few thirsty as well.

Come on, have one with your Uncle Bob.

Good afternoon!

Where do you think you've been?

Your half-day was yesterday!

You took a hell of a chance,

spending the night with a murderer.

- How do you know what I did?

- Now come off it.

You took his clothes.

You didn't come home. It stands to reason.

- Mind your own bleeding business!

- Don't talk to me like that!

I was worried you might be next.

I even phoned the police.

- Police?

- Yeah. They wanna talk to you.

- They're sending a fella over.

- Why?

Why? Because they want your lover.

They wanna put him where he can't

strangle any more women!

And you'd better help 'em.

The sooner he's behind bars the better.

Don't you talk about him like that!

You don't realise how lucky

you are to be alive!

Christ Almighty, Babs, if I wasn't

shorthanded, I'd take you myself!

- As it is, right after closing time -

- I won't be here!

You can stuff your rotten job

right up your jacksie!

- Come back, you!

- Oh, balls!

Got a place to stay?

- Oh, it's you, Bob.

- Yeah.

- I heard you argue with Forsythe.

- Oh, he's a right bastard.

Of course he is.

You can stay at my place 'til you get

something sorted out... if you want.

I won't be in your way.

I'm going up north for a few days.

- No strings?

- Do I look like that sort of a bloke?

All blokes are that sort of a bloke.

- Are you really goin' away?

- Sure! Tonight.

You can have the place to yourself.

I'll take you there now.

If you like, I'll go back to the Globe

and pick up your stuff for you.

Now, I can't say fairer than that, can I?

Oh, thanks, Bob. I'll just stay

the one night if you don't mind.

- Suit yourself

- Tomorrow, I'm gonna go to, um...

I'm going to my sister in Southall.

Leaving your boyfriend

in the lurch a bit, aren't you?

He has to make up

his own mind what to do.

I'd like to help him if I could.

Where's he hiding out?

- Can't tell you, Bob. I promised.

- Ohh!

Come on, Babs. Dick and me have

always been mates. You know that.

I can't.

Alright. Keep your little secret.

Changing jobs can be a blessing in disguise.

It gets you out of a rut.

A girl like you ought to travel,

see the world a bit.

The Cape, California, Jaffa.

Where the fruit comes from,

that's where I'd like to go

if I wasn't tied down here.

But you, you can do as you please!

You've got the whole

of your life ahead of you.

Here we are. I'm on the second floor.

I don't know if you know it, Babs,

but you're my type of woman.

- (Mrs Oxford) ls that you, Tim?

- Hello, dear.

- Hungry?

- Yes!

Good. I'll bring it right in.

It's a soupe de poisson, dear.

- l know you'll enjoy it.

- I have no doubt of it.

Don't wait for me. I'm just going

to see to the next course.

Well... what's new in the case?

Any sensational breaks?

No. I'll be glad when we get

Mr Richard Blaney inside, though.

Any idea where he is?

No, our only lead to him

left her job this morning.

- l don't know where she is either.

- You're certain he's the one?

Oh, yes, he's... the one, alright.

There's not even the complication

of another suspect.

lt has to be him.

We have him identified as leaving

the matrimonial agency

at the time his ex was killed.

We have the clothes which he sent

off to the cleaners in a hurry.

And we have the evidence of the face powder

and the Salvation Army hostel.

I don't follow you, my dear.

I didn't think the Salvation Army

girls used makeup.

No, Blaney slept in a Salvation Army

hostel the night before last.

- Did he, dear?

- Yes.

He was incautious enough

to tell them his name.

I don't think an ex-RAF officer

would sleep in such a place

- unless he was broke, do you?

- No, l don't.

So, let's assume he was.

Last night, however, he slept in the...

Coburg Hotel in Bayswater,

and paid for his extremely expensive

room with a ten-pound note.

The note bore traces

of Mrs Blaney's face powder.

I mean, the murderer

not only strangled Mrs Blaney,

he stole money from her handbag as well.

Ergo... Blaney is the thief

and also the murderer.

That ties it up then.

Well, I think so.

And furthermore, there is a waitress

at Mrs Blaney's club who can also testify

to Blaney's aggressive behaviour

towards his wife the previous night.

He doesn't seem to have been

very discreet, does he?

No. Discretion is not traditionally

the strong suit of the psychopath.

Believe me, that's what we're dealing with.

You ought to read his wife's divorce...

petition.

What exactly is in this soup?

Why? Don't you like it?

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