Marnie Page #4

- Please, Dad!

I was hoping to lead up

gently to all that.

I'd even planned to show her

the horses first.

Swill that down or bring it

with you to the stables.

Mark's trying to act as if he brought

Miss Taylor out to see the horses.

- He really brought her to see me.

- Really? Whatever for?

Showing off. I'm quite

a presentable old party, you know.

Lil, I'm sure your sturdy young wrist

has recovered sufficiently

to pour Dad another cup of tea.

- I will have another cup.

- I can't!

"When duty whispers low, thou must."

"Then youth replies, I can."

Ratfink! And you misquoted!

Will you come up and spend

next weekend with us?

You can bring your tea bag,

have your pick of the horses.

Good night, Mary. I have to run.

See you on Monday.

Good night, Susan.

(Woman) Good night. See you on Monday.

I haven't got my powder puff.

Have you got one?

- Come on.

- Wait a minute.

- Come on.

- Alright, I'm coming.

You mean we have to hang around

and wait until he calls?

- Good night, girls.

- Good night. I'll see you.

- Have a good weekend.

- Yeah.

I think that's terrible.

- What are you gonna do?

- I don't know. Let's get home.

He may have already called you.

If I miss his call,

that's the way it goes.

This is the best one you've had!

(Door Closes)

(Indistinct Chatting)

(Clunking Noise)

(Door Opens, Closes)

You' re sure makin' time tonight, Rita.

What's the big rush?

I wanna get to bed.

That's the big rush.

Please get down.

You'll walk back to the stables.

I'll ride.

Are you stayin' at an inn or have you

friends among the local gentry?

- You said you didn't trust horses.

- I don't, but they trust me.

Which brings us directly to our

relationship, Miss Edgar!

Is Edgar your real name?

And you're blonde.

You'll save time and make for better

feeling if you tell me the truth.

Is Edgar your real name?

Now, don't crowd me, lady!

I'm fighting a powerful impulse

to beat the hell out of you.

At last we communicate.

Now, for the third and last time,

is Edgar your real name?

And don't bother to lie to me.

I'll check you out in every detail.

- Yes. Margaret Edgar.

- Where are you from?

California.

- Where in California?

- Los Angeles.

Where's the money?

Here! Some of it.

- Where's the rest?

- Don't worry. It's safe.

Safe? At some pari-mutuel window?

Or gone on mother's operation?

Or perhaps you're putting

your kid brother through school?

I don't have a kid brother

or a mother. I don't have anybody.

Not even Mr Taylor?

I wouldn't be surprised to hear

the rest of the haul

is with your late husband, Mr Taylor.

Somewhere I expect to find him

happily reincarnated,

the pockets of his good blue burial

suit bulging with Rutland money.

The rest of the money is in

a registered package addressed to me

in a post office box in New York.

You can pick it up there by tomorrow.

Here's the key.

Thank you, Miss Edgar.

Now I'll take the registration receipt.

This receipt and the package are

as good as a signed confession.

You understand that? Alright.

Now, where does Mr Taylor come in?

There's no such person.

I've never been married.

Mrs Taylor was an old

friend of my mother's.

And when you applied at Rutland's,

the name just came to your mind.

I was trying to get away from my

cousin Jessie. She's no good.

If she found out about the insurance

money, she'd try to get some.

Make trouble for me.

- What insurance money?

- Mrs Taylor's.

- She died.

- Oh, Mrs Taylor died. Pity.

Now you're working with

this naughty cousin Jessie.

Nobody's working with me!

You talk as if this was some

regular thing I do... did.

All planned in cold blood.

- And it wasn't?

- No!

You're not from Los Angeles,

Miss Edgar.

Insurance is only pronounced

insurance in the South.

And that's where you're from.

Where? Around here?

You' re a cold-practised,

method-actress of a liar.

- I can't help it.

- It would appear not.

I don't mean that.

I mean, I wasn't born in California.

I was born in Richmond, Virginia.

My father deserted us

when I was a baby.

My mother and I lived

in Richmond until I was seven.

Then we went to California.

Mother worked in aeroplane factories.

That's the truth. I swear it!

My mother died when I was ten.

And Mrs Taylor took care of me.

Come on, get moving.

How did you find me?

You're here to answer

the questions, ol' girl.

How did you get

the combination to Ward's safe?

- I took Susan's key from her purse.

- I see.

Now, suppose you just begin

at the beginning.

It's just like I told you. I was born

in Richmond. We were poor.

We were grindingly poor.

- I was so alone after Mother died.

- Well, go on.

You still have my attention.

I just went to school and took care

of Mrs Taylor until she died.

She left me her house

and $5,000 in insurance.

I sold the house. It had a mortgage

so I only got $9,000 cash.

But there I was with $14,000! Me!

I could do exactly

what I wanted to with it.

There isn't much more. I bought Forio.

- Forio?

- My horse at Garrod's.

I had two wonderful years.

Then last November it was all gone

so I had to get a job.

I went to Pittsburgh

and got the job at Kendall's

until I could look around

for something better.

Alright, let's try again.

Let's back up and turn that Mt Everest

of manure into a few facts.

One:
Your dates are all wrong.

Previously you were employed

by the firm of Strutt and Company.

I saw you there once.

Mr Strutt is the tax consultant

for Rutland and Company.

He pointed you out to me.

You were a brunette then.

Then some months later,

he pointed out your absence.

You mean, you knew all

about that when you hired me?

No. I wasn't positive.

But I thought it might be interesting

to keep you around.

And all this time you've been trying

to trip me up, trap me!

Um, I'm not sure any more.

I think I was just... curious at first.

Then things got out of control and...

I liked you.

So I see!

Incidentally, I think

you took a bit of a chance,

knowing that Rutland's

was a client of Strutt's.

I didn't.

My job at Strutt's didn't give me

access to all the clients' names!

Alright. Let's... get on.

We've established that

you're a thief and a liar.

Now, what is the degree?

Are you a compulsive thief?

A pathological liar?

- What difference does it make?

- Some!

It makes some difference... to me.

Have you ever been in jail?

Certainly not.

I know you'll never believe me now,

and it's my own fault.

It's true about Strutt. I did it.

I don't know why.

I just kind of went crazy, I guess, but...

Old Mr Strutt was so -

Oh, I hated him!

Like you hate me?

Oh, no, not you.

Clean up your face.

Come on.

Good afternoon.

- What'll you folks have?

- A frank and a coffee, please.

- Same for me.

- (Waitress) Okey-doke.

Let's get on

with that little discussion.

The chronic use of an alias is not

consistent with your story

of sudden temptation

and unpremeditated impulse.

What if you'd stolen almost $10,000?

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