The Lady from Shanghai Page #3

about anything at all...

...until it's over and done with.

I'd like to,

but I can't deny that Mr. Bannister...

...did try to give his wife

the things she wanted.

She'd said once that she liked picnics.

We were on our way up

the Mexican coast...

...when he decided to stop

and give her one.

Well, Mr. Bannister's picnic party

was most typical of him.

A lot of trouble and a great deal

of money went into it, but...

...it was no more a picnic

than Bannister was a man.

When you hear what I got for you,

you'll say you bought it cheap.

We've worked a lot of cases together.

I'll be sorry if we make this the last.

There's a plot against my life, correct?

I'll be murdered.

That's the information you're peddling?

I'm going to be killed.

Why, Sid, don't you think I know about it?

All about it?

Now, leave me alone.

I want to enjoy myself.

Michael.

I found out about Broome.

I tried to tell you. He isn't a steward.

- He isn't a good one.

- He's a detective.

My husband hires him to watch me.

He wants to fix it so I'll never divorce him.

- So he can divorce you?

- I haven't a cent.

- He wants to cut me off without a cent.

- Does that matter? it shouldn't.

I told you, sweet,

you don't know anything about the world.

Well, lately,

I've been rounding out my education.

I'll say this much for you, Arthur,

when you give a picnic, it's a picnic.

- Time for another, Arthur?

- Time for another.

- You know what? Michael still insists...

- What?

I beg your pardon?

I said, what?

Michael still insists on quitting.

Why shouldn't he?

No, I think Arthur ought to try

and make him stay.

If he wants to go, let him.

But George likes to have him around.

Michael's so big and strong.

He makes a good bodyguard for you.

Isn't that what you said, George?

- I don't need one.

- That's right.

- Not even a big strong bodyguard?

- Don't make another drink.

- With an Irish brogue?

- He's had enough.

George thinks Michael's fallen for you.

And that makes me unhappy,

George hopes.

But George is wrong again.

Now, Arthur, I didn't say anything

about Michael and Elsa.

Make me another drink, George.

Another Grisby special coming up.

You know, you're a stupid fool, George.

You ought to realize, I don't mind it a bit...

...if Michael's in love with my wife.

He's young. She's young.

He's strong.

She's beautiful.

Sit down, darling.

Where's your sense of humor?

- I don't have to listen to you talk like that.

- Yes, you do, Lover.

Now, Arthur, you leave Elsa alone.

Come to think of it...

...why doesn't Michael

want to work for us?

Why should he?

Why should anyone

want to live around us?

Where's his sense of adventure?

Excuse me, sir. He's over there eating.

Tell Michael to step over here

for a moment.

Aye, sir.

Hey, Mike.

They want to see you over there,

Mr. Bannister and them.

Well, Michael.

Well, Mr. Bannister.

My wife's lost her sense of humor.

You've lost your sense of adventure.

Sit down. Have a drink.

Give him a drink, George,

and don't look so shocked.

Michael may not be in the social register,

but then...

...neither are you, anymore.

Is this what you do for amusement

in the evenings:

Sit around toasting marshmallows

and call each other names?

Sure, if you're so anxious for me

to join the game, I'd be glad to.

I can think of a few names

I'd like to be calling you, myself.

But, Michael, that isn't fair.

You're bound to lose the contest.

We'll have to give you a handicap, Michael.

You should know

what George knows about me...

...for instance,

if you really want to call me names.

And, Michael,

if you think George's story is interesting...

...you ought to hear

the one about how Elsa...

...got to be my wife.

Do you want me to tell him

what you've got on me, Arthur?

You know, once, off the hump of Brazil...

...I saw the ocean so darkened with blood,

it was black...

...and the sun fainting away

over the lip of the sky.

We put in at Fortaleza...

...and a few of us had lines out

for a bit of idle fishing.

It was me who had the first strike.

A shark it was, and then there was

another, and another shark again...

...till all about

the sea was made of sharks...

...and more sharks still,

and no water at all.

My shark had torn himself from the hook...

...and the scent, or maybe the stain it was,

and him bleeding his life away...

...drove the rest of them mad.

Then the beasts took to eating each other.

In their frenzy, they ate at themselves.

You could feel the lust of murder,

like a wind stinging your eyes...

...and you could smell the death

reeking up out of the sea.

I never saw anything worse,

until this little picnic tonight.

And do you know,

there wasn't one of them sharks...

...in the whole crazy pack that survived.

I'll be leaving you now.

George, that's the first time

anyone ever thought enough...

...of you to call you a shark.

If you were a good lawyer,

you'd be flattered.

- Where's Mrs. Bannister?

- I'm sure I don't know, sir.

She adores it here in Acapulco.

So do I, but...

It's nice and quaint,

but I want to go back to Frisco.

Mind walking with me, fella?

I know all the best places.

You might enjoy it.

I want to make you a proposition.

Beautiful, isn't it?

- The beach, you mean, or the tourists?

- Everything.

There's a fair face to the land, surely.

But you can't hide the hunger and guilt.

It's a bright, guilty world.

Darling, of course you pay me.

What's your guess, Michael?

Think the world's coming to an end?

There was a start to the world sometime,

so I guess thrall be a stop.

- It's coming, you know.

- Huh?

Oh, yeah, it's got to come.

First, the big cities...

...then maybe even this.

It's just got to come.

I prefer to be somewhere else

when it does.

I will be.

That's what I need you for, Michael,

to see to it that I'm not around.

- How would you like $5,000?

- What?

That's what I said, $5,000, fella.

What do I have to do for it?

I'll fill in the details later.

Meanwhile, think it over, Michael.

$5,000.

It's yours.

All you have to do is kill somebody.

Who, Mr. Grisby?

I'm particular who I murder.

Good boy!

You know,

I wouldn't like to kill just anybody.

- Is it somebody I know?

- Yeah. But you'll never guess.

I give up.

It's me.

I'm perfectly sober, Michael.

I'm willing to pay $5,000

if the job is well done.

This is a straightforward

business proposition.

I want you to kill me.

So long, fella.

- Michael.

- Yes?

- You talked to George yesterday.

- I did.

- Did he say anything about us?

- He's afraid the world's going to explode.

He talked about suicide.

I've thought of that sometimes.

Suicide?

Do you think it's wrong, Michael?

I don't know.

Would you kill yourself if you had to?

I don't know.

- I've looked at those pills so many times.

- Pills?

The ones my husband takes

to kill the pain...

...and wondered if enough of them

would kill my pain.

The pain of just being alive?

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