Frenzy Page #8
- R
- Year:
- 1972
- 116 min
- 3,876 Views
Make yourself comfortable.
- Very cozy.
- Yes, well, it's my little nest.
You know, my home.
The place where when you have
to go there, they have to take you in.
That's what my ol' mum used to say.
You met my mum, didn't you?
- Yes.
- Ah, great old lady.
- I'm off to the shop. See you later!
- Yeah, sure.
There's something to eat in the kitchen.
The booze is here.
So get on with it, right?
Bob, I'm really grateful for all this.
You know that.
l told you, think nothing of it.
Hey, do me a favour, will you?
- Keep away from the windows.
- Yes, of course. Sorry.
Ta-ta.
Don't do anything I wouldn't do.
Are you Richard Ian Blaney?
- Yes. What is this?
- You're under arrest.
Come quietly, and you won't get hurt.
- Is this necessary?
- We're careful with you bastards.
- Is this your bag?
- Yes.
-Thank you for your help, Mr Rusk.
- Anything to oblige, Sarge.
No reward, I'm afraid.
Better luck next time, eh?
You know what they say.
""Virtue is its own reward.""
I... Well, if you want any more help,
I'll be in my shop.
Alright. We know where you are.
How's that kid of yours
gettin' on with the violin?
- Richard Ian Blaney?
- Yes.
As the result of my inquiries,
you'll be detained in connection
with the willful murders
of Brenda Margaret Blaney,
Barbara Jane Milligan and others.
You're not obliged to say anything
unless you wish.
Anything you do say will be
taken down in writing
and may be used in evidence.
Mr Oxford, could you
spare a second over here?
Rusk. It's Rusk!
Hold him back. Where was this found?
- Over at Henrietta Street.
- Any identification?
""Miss Barbara Milligan, Globe Public House.""
""Covent Garden, London, WC2.""
Are you agreed upon your verdict?
We are.
Do you find the prisoner, Richard Ian Blaney,
guilty or not guilty of the murder of Brenda...
...lan Blaney,
you have been found guilty
of a terrible crime.
On its ghastly and wicked
nature I will not dwell.
I only tell you that you must
entertain no expectation or hope
that you will escape the consequences of it.
The sentence of this court is that you
serve a term of life imprisonment,
for not less than 25 years.
Rusk did it! I told you all along!
Rusk!
I keep telling you. Rusk, where are you?
One of these days, you bastard!
Rusk, where are you? Rusk?
One of these days, I'm gonna get out
and kill you, you bastard!
I've got nothing to lose now!
I might as well do
what I'm being locked away for!
You remember that! You remember that!
Rusk did it.
Rusk did it. l've told you all along!
Rusk? Rusk, where are you?
One of these days l'm gonna get out
and kill you, you bastard!
l've got nothing to lose now.
l might as well do what l'm being
put away for.
You remember that! You remember that!
- Do you see the sign, Hartletts?
- Yes, sir.
lt's the fair-haired chap
in the brown suit underneath it.
- Did you see him?
- Yes, I did.
We'll go around once again,
and I want a good, close mug shot.
Yes, Inspector, I remember him well.
He came here on two or three occasions.
Every business has its own
special cross to bear, I suppose.
- And yours is men like this?
- That is so.
Most of them are easy enough to get
rid of, but Mr Robinson here
was particularly insistent.
- He wouldn't take no for an answer.
- Mr Robinson?
Yes, that is the man's name.
Here we are.
Mr William Robinson.
You see, Inspector, he wanted us to
find women for him who enjoyed,
well... certain peculiarities.
Who were sexual masochists?
Who enjoyed being hurt?
- That sort of thing?
- Quite.
Perhaps you'd better see it for yourself.
Naturally we told him we couldn't oblige,
but he kept coming back.
Is it likely, do you think,
that if Mr Robinson couldn't get
what he wanted from your agency,
- he would go to others?
- Oh, yes, very likely.
Men like this leave no stone unturned
in their search for their
disgusting gratifications.
Excuse me, Inspector.
Do you have any special reason
for seeing Mr Robinson?
Yes, Miss Barling. And I'd like you
to keep my visit confidential.
Of course.
Get the doctor quick.
Looks like an ambulance job.
I told you it wasn't Blaney, didn't I?
I told you you were on the wrong track.
A woman's intuition is worth more
than all those laboratories.
I can't think why you don't
teach it in police colleges.
So you think it's Rusk, do you?
You think he's our man?
Well, of course. Anyone can see that.
He knew both Mrs Blaney
- and that Barbara what's-her-name.
- Yes.
Well, there you are.
You told me the man's a sexual pervert.
That's why he kept the clothes
and put them in Mr Blaney's case.
We have no proof of that.
It stands to reason.
Don't you mean intuition?
What does your intuition tell you
I want for dinner tonight?
Steak and a baked potato.
But you're getting
pied de porc la mode de Caens.
- (Oxford) lt looks like a pig's foot!
- That's what it is.
I put it in the same sauce
the French use for tripe.
That's comforting.
Well, when are you going to arrest
this Mr Robinson, or Rusk,
or whatever he's called?
When l have the proof l need.
- lt takes longer than intuition.
- When will you have it?
In a few minutes I hope, dear.
Really?
You old slyboots. Tell.
Well...
we know that if Rusk is the murderer,
he traveled up in a potato truck
with his victim.
How do we know that?
Did you ever hear of a corpse
that cut itself out of a tied sack?
What would he want to take
the corpse out of the sack for?
Obviously he was looking for something.
How do we know that?
The corpse was deep in rigor mortis.
He had to break the fingers of the
right hand to obtain what they held.
It would be so nice to get back
to plain bread in this house.
What do you think they held?
A locket? A broach? A cross!
It had to be something
that would incriminate him.
Something that he missed
when he put the body on the truck.
A monogrammed handkerchief, perhaps.
Not a cross, I think.
Well...
I don't see why not.
Religious and sexual mania are closely linked.
Anyway, whatever it was, he found it,
which was unlucky for us.
But we did have one piece of good fortune.
The truck driver told us that he
stopped at one place on his journey,
and that was at a pull-in
somewhere out of London.
- A pull-in?
- Hmm.
It's a... cafe frequented by truck drivers, dear.
They serve humble foods
like bacon and egg sandwiches,
sausages and mashed potatoes
and cups of tea and coffee.
How is it so fortunate
that this driver stopped there?
It's not so much that he stopped,
but that he stopped
only once that is important.
The only place our man could've
got out of the truck was at that cafe.
I sent Sergeant Spearman to see
could remember Rusk being there.
I'm expecting him back at any minute.
Well, eat up, dear. You'll want
to be finished by the time he arrives.
Tasty, very tasty.
Not a lot of meat on it, mind.
No sense in gorging, dear.
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