Secret Window

Turn around.

Turn around.

Turn the car around

and get the hell out of here.

Right now.

Don't go back.

Do not go back there.

Hey! Hey!

What the hell's going on here?

You stole my story.

Well?

I'm sorry. Do I...?

- I don't know you.

- I know that.

That doesn't matter. I know you,

Mr. Rainey, that's what matters.

You stole my story.

You're mistaken.

I don't read manuscripts.

You read this one already.

You stole it.

I can assure you that I...

I know you can. I know that.

I don't want to be assured.

If you want to talk to someone about

some grievance you feel you have...

...call my literary agent in New York.

- This is between you and me.

We don't need outsiders, Mr. Rainey.

It is strictly between you and me.

All right, look, mister,

whoever you are...

...I don't like being accused

of plagiarism...

...if that's what you're accusing me of.

Chico, inside.

I don't blame you for not liking it,

but you did it.

You stole my story.

- Leave. I have nothing more to say.

- Yeah, I'll go.

We'll talk more later.

I'm not taking that.

Won't do you any good to

play games with me, Mr. Rainey.

This has got to be settled.

So far as I'm concerned, it is.

"Sowing Season.

John Shooter."

Never heard of you, pal.

Never heard of your story.

Now...

...where was I?

I'm open to suggestions.

If you don't go and bite her,

I'll kill her.

"Four days after George had

confirmed to his satisfaction...

...that his wife was cheating on him,

he confront..."

This is just bad writing.

Just bad writing.

So you know what to do.

Just do it.

No bad writing.

I think that solves it.

Oh, I found one of your stories

in the trash, Mr. Rainey.

I thought you might want it,

so I put it on the table.

Yeah, I see that, Mrs. Garvey.

"Todd Downey thought that a woman

who would steal your love...

...when your love was really all you

had, was not much of a woman.

He, therefore, decided to kill her.

He would bury her in

the deep corner formed...

...where the house and the barn

came together at an extreme angle.

He would bury her where

his wife kept her garden.

The garden she loved

more than she loved him."

Oh, sh*t. Oh, sh...

Thank God. From the sound of you,

I didn't know what to think.

Let me get this. That's my job.

I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Garvey.

I really am.

I'll take care of this.

Go on back to work.

- I didn't write this.

- Oh, I thought you did.

No, it's not mine. Look, it says John

Shooter right there. It's not me.

Oh, I thought it was one of those...

...whatchamacallums,

pseudo-names or "-nyms."

No. No, I never used one.

I've never used one.

Oh, I can't imagine why you would.

I mean, hide behind a made-up name.

No. Mrs. Garvey, what I'm trying to tell

you is that someone else wrote this.

Oh. Okey dokey, then.

"A woman who'd steal your love

when your love was all you had...

...wasn't much of a woman.

That, at least,

was Tommy Haverlock's opinion.

He decided to kill her.

He even knew the place he would

bury her. The exact place.

The little patch of garden

she kept in the extreme angle...

...formed where the old and new parts

of the house came together.

He'd bury her in the garden she loved

more than she loved him."

Come to the flea market with me.

It'll be fun.

We've got to get rid of some of

this stuff. Look at this, it's awful.

No wonder they left it.

Oh, my God, look, there's a window.

It's a secret window.

Oh, this is perfect.

I'm gonna put my garden

right there.

It's a secret window, and it'll look down

on a secret garden.

Sh*t.

I didn't steal it.

What?

Mr. Rainey?

I'm all done.

Really? So soon? Well...

...I'll see you next time.

- Mr. Rainey...

...there's something I want to say.

Some women don't know

a good thing when they got it.

They don't know they got the whole

world right in front of their nose.

There. That's it.

Not another word from me.

Mr. Rainey?

Can I make you something to eat?

No. I ate. Well, earlier.

I'm going to eat later.

And I'll make it myself.

You're a good man, Mr. Rainey.

You too, Mrs. Garvey.

It's my personal business,

Mrs. Garvey. Thank you very much.

My pillows now.

Her sticky, weird fingers

on my privacy.

I didn't steal that story.

I don't think.

- Hello?

- Hello, Mort.

- Are you all right?

- Yeah. I'm all right.

- Why wouldn't I be all right?

- I don't know.

You're up there alone. Anything could

happen and nobody would know.

- I'd know.

- Right.

How's my little baby puppy? Did

Chico get those cataracts removed?

Why did you call, Amy?

What do you want?

I had one of those feelings I get.

I know you think they're stupid

and you don't believe them...

...but I believe them.

I was making a sandwich and I had a

sensation that you might not be okay.

I held off as long as possible.

But then I couldn't anymore,

so here I am.

Well, I don't know what to tell you

except I'm fine.

Nothing weird happened or anything?

Do you remember "Secret Window"?

What?

My story. You know, the one where

the woman has the garden...

...and then the guy has the shovel.

- Not one of my favorites.

- That's good to know.

Well, it was kind of hostile,

don't you think?

Gee, I miss your constructive criticism.

I really do.

What about the story, Mort?

I was just wondering,

do you think it's possible...

...that I might have been influenced

by anybody or anything at that time?

Other than Jack Daniel's?

I know that part, Amy,

hence the question.

I don't know.

You got weird on that one.

You'd write it mostly at night, I think.

- What do you mean, "influenced"?

- I don't know.

Like, by another story?

Look, forget it.

Mort, you swore the one time

was the only time.

Forget it, please.

Please, just forget it. Come on.

How's Ted?

He's fine.

I was thinking that he and I should get

together sometime, have a drink...

...because we've been to a lot

of the same places.

- You know what? I gotta go.

- So do I.

Okay.

- Is he there?

- No.

We're not together.

Wow, well...

...I'd be lying if I said I wasn't on

the verge of doing Snoopy dances.

No, Mort.

What I meant was we're

not together at the moment.

He's coming over later. He hardly ever

comes here. I usually go to his house.

There's a useful detail.

Thanks for that.

Don't ask, then.

It was working just fine that way.

I think you should have him

over to the house more.

Such a nice house. I like it.

I mean, I love it. That's why I bought it.

Goodbye, Mort.

Goodbye, Amy.

Sh*t. Sh*t. Sh*t.

Stupid. Stupid. Stupid.

- You read it?

- I did.

I imagine it rang a bell, didn't it?

Oh, it certainly did.

When did you write it?

I thought you'd ask that.

That's the whole point.

Two writers have the same story,

it's all about who wrote the words first.

- Wouldn't you say that's true?

- I suppose so.

I suppose that's why I came

all the way up here from Mississippi.

I wrote it seven years ago, 1997.

How'd you get it?

That's what I really want to know.

How in the hell did a big

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