The Trouble with Harry Page #7

Well, that's it, I guess.

- The paintings are yours.|- Yes, but what about you?

Yes, Sam,|you've gotta ask for something.

Well, let's see.

That's it.

What's it?

Pardon me.

What do you think?

Yes,|I think that can be easily arranged.

Well. That's it, then.

I'll come back in the morning|for all these paintings.

Mr Marlowe,

this has been a night that I shall|remember the rest of my life.

Come back again. I'll have some more|paintings for you next month.

And you'll have a steady customer|in me,

even if you raise your prices.

- Well, good night, everyone.|- Good night.

All right, young man.

Congratulations, Sammy!|Good boy!

- Did I do the right thing?|- You did just the right thing, Sam.

Good.

Because it's important to me|that you think so.

Why?

Because I love you.|I want to marry you.

Oh!

- You want to marry me?|- Uh-huh. Why not?

Well...|because I just got my freedom today.

Easy come, easy go.

Besides, if you married me,|you'd keep your freedom.

You must be practically unique, then.

I respect freedom.|More than that, I love freedom.

We might be the only free|married couple in the world.

This is very sudden, Sam.

You'll have to give me|a little time to think about it.

Only fair. I'll give you|until we get back to your house.

- What's goin' on here at this hour?|- The most wonderful thing.

Mr Marlowe sold all his paintings|to a millionaire.

- Got more'n I ever figured he'd get.|- Money?

Well, not exactly money.

I always knew|they weren't worth the space.

I found these on a tramp|hangin' 'round here.

Said he found 'em on a... dead man.

Took me to where he said|he found him, and...

I didn't see any body.

Montpelier 2000.

- That's the state police.|- Uh huh.

I think, uh, we'd better get going.

Thank you for the cash register.

It was a pleasure. Good night.

Good night. Good night.

- Good night.|- Good night.

Good night, Captain.

This is Deputy Sheriff Calvin Wiggs.

Yeah, I'll wait.

Ma?

Yes?

- This picture here on the floor.|- It's a new one.

He did it today,|but it isn't for sale.

- Why not?|- You'll have to ask him that.

He left it on his way|over to Jennifer Roger's house.

Guess he didn't have time|to take it home.

You suddenly got interested in art?

No.

But... it's just that it matches|the description of -

Oh, hello, Sergeant.

Calvin Wiggs.

Got something|that might interest you a little.

It seems I picked up this tramp|with a pair of stolen shoes...

and a wild story about a corpse.

What do you think? Him walking in|with Harry Worp's shoes in his hand?

And then that phone call|to the police?

I don't know. I may be wrong, but I|don't think he's tied us into it yet.

Oh, the way he looked at me.

If he'd known anything,|he'd have kept us there.

But modern police methods|are all psychological now, Sammy.

They just wear you down|and wear you down until...

you're almost grateful|to get into that gas chamber.

The police would probably tell him,|if the shoes fit, to keep them.

Oh, well.

- I've decided, Sam.|- Decided what?

I will marry you, if you haven't|forgotten about asking me.

I'm... I'm very fond of you and...

I think you'd make a good father|for Arnie.

And for some other reasons|best left unsaid.

Marriage is the comfortable way|to spend the winter,

but right now we should be|working on some good story

to satisfy the State Police|if they should turn up.

Would you believe it?|I'd almost forgotten that proposal.

- I have witnesses, Sam.|- Oh, I remember now.

All right,|you've got yourself a husband.

I think I'll kiss you now|to prove it.

Lightly, Sam.|I have a very short fuse.

What a pretty sight.

Sam, what did you ask|the millionaire for?

That's very practical.

- Congratulations, my dear.|- You're a lucky man, Sammy.

- I think you'll both be very happy.|- Thank you.

If I grumbled too much at my share of|the work in burying Harry, I'm sorry.

I can see now it was well worth it.

- And if I can do anything else -|- Hold it! Hold it, hold it!

What's wrong, Sam?

Harry. We're not quite finished|with him yet.

Sam, if anybody's through, it's|Harry. He's been buried three times.

Before we can get married, you're|gonna have to prove that you're free.

To prove you're free, you'll|have to prove that Harry -

Is dead.

What a horrible complication.

Oh!

I don't know that it is.

What are you looking at me for?|You...

Sammy, I'll do anything to help you,|but please,

please don't ask me to dig up|Harry again!

- Oh, come, come now, Captain.|- No, we can't.

- You're thinking of bad publicity -|- No, I'm not.

I think Sam would be worth|just about anything.

I'm thinking of you, Miss Gravely.

Murder is murder, no matter how|exonerating the circumstances.

It just wouldn't look nice at all|for you.

That's right!|Better let him stay where he is.

You'll only have to wait seven years|to presume death, anyway.

- Seven years! I'll be an old man.|- Don't be silly.

You waited far longer|than seven years already.

Yes, but now I know|what I'm waiting for.

I insist that you dig|the wretched man up.

I don't care a hoot what they say.

They'd only have to know me to|realise the man must have been mad.

- I disagree! Huh!|- Really, Captain Wiles?

Well...

I'll dig him up but we'd better|get it done before Calvin Wiggs

gets the state police|snooping around here.

I've been thinking.

I've been thinking maybe we could|forget the way it really happened.

I could tell how Harry visited me|and went off in such a rage today

and that's all we'd need to know|about his being there.

No, somebody else|might get the blame.

And somebody else might not|have such a good reason as I did.

What do you mean 'somebody else'?

I can think of two people with|a good reason for having killed him.

First you, because you married him.|And now Sam.

Me? Why would I want to kill him?|I never met him before.

You could still have a reason|for killing him.

- She means me.|- Yes.

I didn't fall in love with Jennifer|until after Harry was dead.

Try telling that to the police.

She's right, Sammy boy.

On second thought, we'd better stick|to the truth, what there is of it.

We must think up a reason why the|police weren't informed before now.

Yes, then there's the condition he's|in. That will take some explaining.

We'll just clean him up a bit.

It's horrible,|but there's nothing else we can do.

We can't risk complicating|Miss Gravely's confession.

As for the delay, I can explain that|I was so upset by the occurrence

that I went straight home and rested.

- Only natural.|- They'll think you had a long rest.

Sam, I'd rather not spend|the whole night debating.

Let's get Harry someplace|and clean him up.

Let's get out of here.

Love alters not|with his brief hours and weeks,

But bears it out|even to the edge of doom,

If this be error and upon me proved,

I never writ, nor no man ever loved.

I, uh, I think he met with a bit|of an accident, Dr Greenbow.

He certainly did.

Which of you found him?

- Well -|- He was my husband, Doctor.

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