The Long Goodbye Page #4

- The man who wrote it, Roger Wade.

But they told you

there's no one here by that name.

- Good morning, Dr Verringer.

- They told me you weren't here either.

This is a private hospital.

I can't have strangers prowling about.

- I must ask you to leave.

- I hear you, Doctor.

Could you tell me

the nature of your business here?

If Roger Wade isn't here,

why do you care?

Are you sure he's at Verringer's?

Verringer denied being Verringer,

pretended he didn't know your husband's

name and wouldn't look at his picture.

So I'm reasonably sure

that's where your husband is staying,

but there is something

we could do to make sure.

What's that?

If you came back there with me,

Dr Verringer couldn't dismiss you.

He'd just have to answer to you.

I don't have the guts to do that.

You got the guts to make that dog behave,

but not to talk to a jerk like Verringer?

It's not Verringer. It's Roger.

He doesn't want me to find him

or know why he's hiding out there.

What's he gonna do when I walk in?

That's all right. You're a stranger.

He's fine with strangers.

Dried apricot?

I didn't eat the one you gave me

this afternoon. They give me diarrhoea.

Mrs Wade,

what is it that you want me to do?

I want you to make sure he's all right,

and try to bring him home if you can.

If you have any trouble, I'll back you up.

- But I don't think you're afraid of trouble.

- What makes you say that?

I looked at your picture in the paper

and I liked what you did for my friend.

- Your friend?

- Your friend. What am I talking about?

And... I like your face too.

- I feel you're someone I can trust.

- You got me, lady.

That's far enough, Lucette.

You have to go back.

Thanks, Dom.

- Your favourite TV show is on. Come on.

- No. I have to vote.

- Have you voted yet?

- Yeah.

You can handle Lucette.

Dom, go to supper.

Roger, when you checked in,

you paid me $600 cash...

leaving a balance of $4400.

$5,000 is my fee, Roger.

Exquisite Styrofoam pitcher.

Jesus, my mouth's burning up.

- You got me all drugged up, Doc.

- You need help, Roger.

I've been taking a little look

around the reservation here.

I've been looking at some of the other

patients and some of your colleagues.

This place stinks, Doc. It's this place

that's sick, not the people in it.

You'd like to go home, wouldn't you?

Yeah, I'd like to go home,

and I'm going home,

cos I'll tell you one more goddamn thing!

I'm a man cannot stand confinement.

If you don't get me out of here,

I'll tear you limb from limb

and waltz out through the wall!

No, Roger, you won't hurt anything here.

This is my place.

- I'm here to help you.

- Here to help me!

Just this afternoon a man

came looking for you. A detective.

I told him you weren't here. You don't

want your wife to know you come here.

My wife.

Of course you don't.

Here's the pen.

Here's the cheque.

It's all made out for $4400.

It's not necessary for you to sign any

cheque, especially under this pressure.

You have no right to barge in here.

I know you could have me towed away,

but why go to any trouble?

Wait a minute.

Who the hell are you?

A private investigator who was sent here

to find you, but the doctor dummied up.

You were sent here to find me? Why?

I'm supposed to bring you home,

if that's where you wanna go.

He's taking me home.

Don't forget your chequebook.

- Roger.

- Yeah.

I want you to understand,

you'll be hearing from me again.

I'll be hearing from you. You come by

someday and you have a drink with me.

Roger? Is that you?

Here we are!

Go in the kitchen. Go in the kitchen.

- Shh. They'll wake up.

- I don't wanna wake anybody.

Come inside. Come inside, please.

- I don't wish to go in.

- Go in the kitchen.

Let's go this way. I go to my little doggy

house and you have your nice big house.

You got your friend Marlboro,

the do-good bullshitter, whatever he is.

You go in the house, Roger,

and you go in the house, Bowser.

That's enough.

If you don't stop this drinking,

I'm gonna leave you. I mean it.

- You what?

- Nothing.

Nothing. Of course, nothing.

And let me tell you something.

Don't talk to me about you leaving me.

I don't feel well. I just wanna go to bed.

And you, you crazy son of a b*tch,

you come back sometime.

- I'll come back and see you.

- You come back.

Jesus Christ. Goddamn dog!

He's really a sick man.

More so than you might think.

He feels he's all finished as a writer.

He sits down and stares at the paper

and nothing happens.

I don't know what to do.

He really needs help.

I tell you, if you think

your husband's suicidal,

he needs some Freudian analysis or

primal scream - I need a cigarette myself.

But I'm not qualified for anything like that.

I know. Anyway,

I'm very grateful for what you've done.

- You will come back again, won't you?

- I'd love to, but I don't see any necessity.

Your husband's home and I think

I've done what I'm supposed to do.

- Did you know Terry Lennox well?

- Terry? I knew Terry a long time.

I can't understand

how he could do something like that.

How could he kill his wife?

They were nice people.

I don't believe he killed his wife.

But I read in the paper he confessed,

and they had a letter and all from him.

Have a good night.

I'll see how everything is in the morning.

Thank you again.

Ah, yes. Mammy Yokum.

I don't wanna disturb you, lady.

I'll pick up my bills later.

- Hey, Marlowe.

- Spiffy.

- The boss wants to talk to you.

- Who's the boss?

- Mr Marty Augustine.

- I only see hoods by appointment.

That supposed to be

some kind of smart crack?

- It's the only thing I could come up with.

- Harry.

- Did you think it was a smart crack?

- No, sir.

Pepe, como lo ves, inteligente?

No, Marty.

I don't think he looks very smart.

- Vince?

- No, Mr Augustine.

- Nobody thinks it was a smart crack.

- What do you think, Mabel?

Ow!

Excuse me, Jo Ann.

I'll be back in a few minutes.

You stay right here.

You can play the radio if you want.

- What is that?

- Pain.

Actually, I was on my way to the bank

to make a deposit. It's my laundry.

Pick him up.

Bring him. You know what night this is?

This is Friday night.

It's Shabbas. You know

where I'm supposed to be? Temple.

- Why aren't you there?

- Cos I'm talking to a smart guy like you.

- Which house do you live in?

- Got a cute little place on the top.

The top? Penthouse?

How do you get up there?

- I got my own private elevator.

- A private eye with a private elevator.

Can I pick up my mail?

Get him inside.

What is this?

The new Rockettes. They're just training.

They ain't got no tap shoes yet.

I can't believe what I'm looking at.

I see you got a Mexican and you got

an Irish guy, a Jewish fella and an Italian.

Do you live here?

You pay money to live in this place?

- Home is where the heart is, right?

- Your heart is in the garbage.

Sit down. Look at the laundry.

I don't take too much starch in my collars.

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