Infamous Page #4

to this earth, you know? Solid. Secure.

Now what scares me is that...

...well, sometimes, out of nowhere...

...a bad wind blows up.

Now it could be cancer, could be drink...

...could be some woman

that don't belong to you.

And despite the weight that's holding you

to the ground...

...when that wind comes,

it picks you up light as a leaf...

...and it takes you where it wants.

We're in control until we're not.

Then we're helpless.

"If you ever saw her,

she was always good old Bonnie."

No, no. She said, "If you ever did see her,

if you ever did, she..."

That's right.

"...she was always good old Bonnie."

Good ear.

Drink?

Well, obviously the mother wasn't right.

Oh, I don't know.

It just sounds like menopause.

I hope not.

That's a little grubby for my novel.

Your novel?

What are you talking about?

I think this story is bigger than an article.

I think it's a book.

I can see that. But non-fiction, right?

Yes, of course it will all be true, but...

- But what? Either it is or it isn't.

- You're not understanding.

I wanna to bring fictional techniques

to a non-fiction story.

What fictional techniques?

The ones where you make stuff up?

Excuse me, if I were gonna make stuff up

you think I'd bother taking all these notes?

You obviously plan to turn Bonnie Clutter

into some faux poetic recluse...

...when what it sounds like is that she was

just thrown off by her menopause.

What is your stupid f***ing point?

That you shouldn't be doing

what you're doing.

The truth is enough!

I must say I don't appreciate this lecture

from you of all people.

Mockingbird was based on true things,

and you sure improved that.

Right. It's a novel!

Reportage means re-creating,

not creating.

This is a new kind of reportage!

I'll say.

Okay. "But if you ever did see her,

if you ever..."

- I remember.

- Fine.

- It's your book.

- Yes.

My seventh.

- Okay, okay.

- How's your book coming?

Lt'll take me a long time to shape, but...

...thanks to Nelle,

who's been a gift from heaven...

...and you all...

...we'll probably only need

a week more here.

- Well, I'm gonna miss your Kansas steaks.

- Well, we'll be sorry to see you go.

Is there any news?

You know I can't give you special access.

We got them.

- What?

- What?

We caught them.

Just like you said, there were two of them.

The killers? We caught the killers?

Who are they?

Are they in jail right now? Can...?

They're in Las vegas.

I got to get right out there.

- Can I come? Oh, please, Foxy?!

- Not this time, partner.

Well, there isn't gonna be another time.

How many times you gonna arrest them?

I'm sorry.

Honestly, Marie...

...how can you stay married

to such a mule?

Maybe now you'll get

a whole night's sleep.

Congratulations, Foxy.

This kind of changes your book.

You're telling me.

Of course, if I thought it was hard

getting the townspeople to open up...

...how in heaven's name will I ever get

the killers to talk?

Look, look. They're here.

Pardon me. Pardon me.

Pardon me. Excuse me.

I can't see the other one.

There he is.

No way. No press inside the prison.

I have many connections in government.

Perhaps I could have someone call,

explain what I'm doing?

You'd pretty much have to know

the president of the United States...

...before I'd let you visit these boys.

Suck my cock, you cocksucker!

I never snack.

You want to kiss my a**hole, b*tch?

I'd prefer it to your face.

You want to write a book about me?

If my jackass teachers

could hear you say that!

- Did you ever write a book?

- Certainly.

My first novel, Other Voices, Other Rooms,

was heralded by critics...

...as the most exciting literary debut since...

Yeah, okay.

- You a queer?

- Yes.

Because I'd let you suck me.

I'm not a queer, but letting you suck my dick

don't make me queer.

It makes you queer.

A mouth's a mouth.

Well, thanks, I guess, but no.

- So then what's in it for me?

- Money.

I'd give you a share of my royalties.

I got two kids by my first marriage.

Maybe I can give the money to Lacy, my ex.

Would you help me write her a letter?

I'd be glad to.

Okay, I'll do it.

The Clutter deal was my idea.

I shared a cell with a piece of rat sh*t

called Floyd Wells...

...who told me old man Clutter had

a safe with $ 10,000.

Dick says you first heard

about the Clutter safe from his cellmate...

...Floyd Wells.

- Is that right?

- Well, he told you, didn't he?

Yes, but can I trust him?

He's in jail.

I wouldn't trust him.

You don't want the only perception people

have of you to come from Dick.

- I can help get your side out.

- Don't bullshit me.

You don't care about my side.

- You're not trying to help me.

- Well, this would be helpful.

You'd be entitled

to a share of the royalties.

And what would I do

with royalties in here?

- You might get out, and you could use...

- We're not getting out!

I said no bullshit

and you gave me more bullshit.

Go away.

He'll loosen up.

How's Dick?

Dick?

He just goes on and on and on.

Perry probably shot the Clutters

just to get Dick to be quiet.

I have to have both sides.

How do you get your New York lady friends

to tell you everything?

My swans?

I figure out what they need.

Gossip. Comfort. And I give it to them.

So find out what Perry needs.

In the meantime, get all you can from Dick.

Surely he'll shed some light

on Perry, hm?

The man and the boy

we took to the basement.

Now, here's something.

When I wanted to enjoy myself on the girl,

you know, knock her box out...

...Perry says for me not to touch her.

But then, when he's tying up that boy,

he put a pillow under his head.

And told the old man

to lay on a mattress box...

...because he said the floor was cold.

Too cold to get shot on?

Why do you think he did that?

And I said, "You losing your nerve?

'Cause we can't leave no witnesses."

And he said, "No,"

but I thought, "Are you a f*ggot?"

Putting that pillow for the boy,

telling me not to crack the girl.

But other times he's okay.

Didn't seem like a f*ggot

when he splattered their hair on the wall.

No, we didn't want to kill them.

We wanted to get in

and get out without a trace!

Perry wanted us

to get stockings for our faces.

But that sh*t-ass store where we got

the gloves only had light-colored ones.

You could see my eyes through them.

Pick me up out of a lineup. That was no go.

So Perry says we should go to the hospital

and buy black ones off the nuns.

And I thought that was

a damn crazy idea...

...but I didn't feel like fighting

with him...

...so I went and huddled behind the door,

and I came out and said:

"Catholic b*tches wouldn't sell me none."

And what did Perry say?

He said:

"Any.

Catholic b*tches won't sell you any."

Really?

- He corrected your grammar?

- Listen, sugar.

Perry Smith...

...fancies himself an artiste.

Hey, baby.

You wanna suck my dick through the bars?

Yours couldn't reach through the bars.

The only way to deal with vulgarity

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