House on Haunted Hill Page #16

MARY'S HAND drop into frame -- lie still for a moment --

and then start VIOLENTLY SPASMING, as a BLOODSTORM starts

spattering it from O.S. Until the color of her flesh can

no longer be seen --

A METAL CRUNCH is heard from inside the CAMCORDER, and the

image on the screen goes to BLACK.

INT. MAIN SALON - CONTINUOUS

No one moves -- they're all frozen there, staring at the dead

screen. Beat. And then: the sound of light APPLAUSE is heard.

Heads turn towards its source, and we see:

EVELYN STOCKARD-PRICE leaning against one of the walls, her

hands slowly, almost angrily CLAPPING. She doesn't speak,

she seethes:

EVELYN:

Game, set and match, Steven. You've

outdone yourself. And I know it's not

good manners to ask the magician how he

did it, but inquiring minds are

desperate to know: just what did really

happen to Ms. Marr?

PRICE:

Asking the wrong person again.

EVELYN:

I mean, did she stage it all for you and

then go hide -- or did you just flat out

kill the little b*tch --

PRICE:

-- I pose you the same question --

EVELYN:

-- and who's next on your list?

PRICE:

If I had one, Evelyn, I think you know

who'd be first and last --

EVELYN:

-- oh, for chrissake, that's a given;

we all know that knocking me off is the

bottom line here --

PRICE:

-- that wasn't my original plan, but it

is starting to look more attractive --

EVELYN:

-- thank you! All the cards finally

on the goddamn table!

She produces one of the Glocks and points it at him.

EVELYN:

Just know I'm not gonna make it

easy for you. We still don't know the

answer to the Million Dollar Question --

-- Evelyn fires the gun into the wall just to the left of

Price's head. It smashes a hole there the size of a fist.

PRICE:

Jesus!

EVELYN:

Question answered.

PRICE:

They weren't loaded when I put

them in there!

EVELYN:

Funky little house, ain't it?

(turns to the Guests)

Friends, your hostess is now going to

retire for what's left of the night. If

you need me, I'll be in the bedroom

upstairs -- but try and fight that need:

the door'll be locked, I'll be trying to

sleep, and if anyone so much as breathes

in the keyhole, I'm gonna empty this

thing into their f***ing head. Thank you

all for the bestest birthday a girl

could have.

She walks away and begins climbing the stairs. Price turns to

the guests to see that every eye in the room is staring at

him -- and not without fear. Price is astonished, then just

shakes his head with disgust.

PRICE:

Even if I were inclined, I've had better

-- and a lot safer -- opportunities to

kill off a wife.

BLACKBURN:

Three times, to be exact.

PRICE:

Excuse me?

BLACKBURN:

Accidents. Fatal. Each of your

prior wives, so we've been informed.

PRICE:

Can't imagine by who. I don't suppose

the truth would interest you: that I've

never had another wife but Evelyn.

No response, just looks of confusion.

PRICE:

Married. Once. Same woman. All these

years. She just slithered up the stairs.

EDDIE:

Prove it.

PRICE:

Prove it how?

Sara strides to the coffin-cabinet and withdraws one of the

Glocks.

PRICE:

And what are you planning on doing

with that?

She c*cks it.

SARA:

I just decided a million bucks is

worthless if you ain't around to spend

it. There is a way out of this place,

and I'm gonna either find it or create

it.

(to Eddie)

Coming or staying?

Eddie looks at his options: Price, Blackburn & Pritchett --

or Sara.

EDDIE:

Yeah, what the hell, I'll go.

BLACKBURN:

Yeah, me too.

Blackburn takes a gun from the coffin and c*cks it.

SARA:

More the merrier.

BLACKBURN:

No. I'm going back to try and find Ms.

Marr. If she's hurt, I'll tend to her.

Dead, then I'm coming back for him.

He glares at Price and exits in the opposite direction.

Long beat. Price stares at the befuddled Pritchett who seems

to be having a quiet conversation with himself.

PRITCHETT:

I think...I may have the answer.

PRICE:

What?

PRITCHETT:

I remember...it was a long time ago...my

father said:
when the House was finally

completed, make sure...we-christen-it-

with-this-bottle-of-dirt-cheap-champagne-

that-should-still-be-in a cupboard

somewhere!

Pritchett is out of his chair extremely fast for someone with

a near-lethal blood alcohol level. As he makes his exit, he

grabs one of the last Glocks. Turns sheepishly to Price:

PRITCHETT:

Nothing personal.

He chambers a shell and exits. Beat. Price is alone in the

room.

PRICE:

Evelyn, goddamnit -- !

INT. SMALL GRIMY ROOM - JUST AFTER

-- and bursts through the hinged panel into computer

central, shouting:

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