Silk Stalkings (1991–1999): Season 5, Episode 1 - Pulp Addiction - full transcript
Jackie McMillian, a popular romance novelist, and her husband are suspected of murder.
(cellular phone ringing )
sergeant lance.
where the hell are you?
well, you know,
actually i've been swamped.
things are
kind of backed up here at court.
why is it so noisy?
well, uh...
just the wheels
of justice turning.
the wheels of justice turning...
what are you doing?
chris, listen,
you're breaking up...
i'll call you later, okay?
hello.
hello.
and who shall i
make it out to?
(flustered ):
uh, rita...
if you don't mind,
up there in the corner
and you can do it
kind of small.
there, rita.
okay.
thank you.
oops, thanks.
your pen.
thank you.
this new book is going
to go through the roof.
get my hard hat.
my kingdom for a match.
paul, how much have
you had to drink?
not enough.
light me, elliot.
i'm done. my hand feels like
it's going to fall off.
shh, be quiet,
somebody's going
to hear you.
(sarcastically ):
sorry. dear me, i'm tired
from the excitement
of this lovely affair.
(chuckling )
do another hour.
forget it.
i'd rather do the hour
at coconut grove--
scare up some trouble.
oh, yes, but we always have
the same trouble, dear wife.
you wind up spending
the night on your back
and we have a terrible
row the next day.
you forget, husband.
i like it when i'm on top
and the boys are on their backs.
i'm warning you
if you go...
sean.
...you'll have me
to play with later.
hey, what's up?
the talking
lapdog.
but you're humping
more than a leg
aren't you, young sean?
get my things.
we're history.
(heavy breathing )
i don't know, jack.
jackie, paul could
come in any minute.
it's okay.
it turns me on more
in his bed.
no, this is just too weird.
(chuckling )
listen, we're just
getting started, baby.
(pot crashes )
what was that?
nothing.
now get back to work.
do me with the hot oil.
okay.
yes.
now come and lick it off.
you bitch.
i'll kill you.
[captioning sponsored by
usa network]
guilty?
yes! all right!
when is
the sentencing scheduled?
good job, george.
yeah, you keep me posted,
all right?
jury came back on the simpson
trial-- guilty as charged.
not innocent, but... uh...
not guilty.
oh, elvis called
he said that he'd like
to take you to lunch.
oop... i'll get it!
hold on a second.
what do we have--
a little philosophical
reading here?
uh...palm beach madams.
chris, give me my book back.
hold on a second.
hey, hey,
time out.
lorenzo, lance?
go to your corner.
what's the battle
about this time?
chris has my book,
and i would like it back.
all right, lorenzo,
come on.
what is this?
it's a trashy novel,
i picked it up for fran.
she likes that author.
uh, if this book
is for frannie
why does it say,
"to rita"?
chris:
ha, busted.
pardon the expression.
enough with the harvard
classics.
you got a live one
over at 511
tamarind drive.
thank you, captain.
okay, white male,
early 20s
one shot,
straight to the heart.
usually does the trick.
what about the bullet?
.32 caliber. i sent it
to ballistics.
all right.
nothing under
the fingernails.
got no apparent
contusions or abrasions.
that rules out
signs of a struggle.
yep, body seemed
to be in excellent shape.
except for the fact
it's a little cold.
unlike yours,
sergeant.
you look like
a perfect 98.6.
it's all
the clean living.
uh-huh.
oh, i bet you have
your dirty moments, too.
not enough.
they say it takes
two to tango.
i just happen to have
an extra pair of dance shoes
back at my place.
rita:
well, there is, uh
no broken windows or locks.
he still had his money
in his wallet.
his stereo and tv
weren't touched.
so, it rules out robbery.
guy must
have known
the perp.
neighbors heard
no gunshots,
no arguments.
you fix the time of death yet?
yeah, i'd say based
on liver temperature--
12:30, 1:00.
i guess it's easy enough
to muffle the sound
of a single shot.
looks premeditated
to me.
what kind of person would shoot
through the heart?
hopeless romantic.
i don't know, a lover
with the soul of a poet?
or just
a plain old jealous spouse.
which pretty much leaves
the entire city
of palm beach
as a suspect.
obviously,
this is where he worked.
check this out--
a paycheck stub.
made out last week
from lipstick publications.
1155 west sycamore lane.
that's a high-rent
district.
who shot you through the heart,
sean andrews?
morning, love.
who's winning the battle today?
you, or mean old mr. sun?
oh, sometimes
it may be a standoff, darling.
but i never lose a battle.
so i've discovered.
you were in rare
form last night.
was i?
top shelf.
you pushed
all the buttons.
my family
my lack of an education,
my taste, my friends.
you hit them all.
splendid.
i hope i wasn't too repetitive.
i hate to be boorish.
that, at least,
you've never been.
i thought you were
going to kill sean and i.
and me, sweetheart.
sean and me.
you've misplaced your objective.
wrong, professor higgins.
i lost it entirely
when i married you!
ooh.
just another cabin
in the woods.
with hot and cold
running servants.
(knock at door )
good morning
we're with palm beach
police department.
(speaking
in spanish )
(voices arguing )
(speaking excitedly
in spanish )
(glass crashing )
i wouldn't have to go
all over town looking for it
if you weren't so loaded
and your little friend came
to attention...
silence, please, i beg you.
you want me to shut up?
great! i'll shut up!
(screaming )
thus spoke zarathustra.
are you done, precious?
no!
(screaming )
sorry to interrupt
the festivities, folks.
can i help you?
i was at your book-signing.
you're jackie
mcmillan.
is there no end
to cult of personality?
please leave
immediately
or i shall have to call
the localgendarmes.
weare
the local jender-arms.
sergeant lorenzo,
sergeant lance.
i told you the noise level
was verging on improper!
shut up!
it has nothing to do
with the
noise level.
one of your employees,
sean andrews
was murdered last night.
sean?
is dead?
afraid so.
well, i can't believe it,
just last night...
just last night, what, love?
do you work here?
in a manner of speaking, yes.
i'm jackie's husband,
paul westlake.
did you see mr. andrews
last night?
he was here
at the house.
he left around 10:00.
it's the last i saw him.
was he alone?
yes.
what work did he do for you?
that's a good question,
detective.
he was my personal assistant.
i still can't
believe he's dead.
please, get off
the sarah bernhardt
routine
he only typed
40 words a minute.
would either
of you
care for
a cocktail?
ah, yes, duty calls.
what did you do
after he left?
we talked.
yes, a nice
long chat.
how did you get
that bruise
on your cheek?
would you help me
with that, love?
of course.
i hit you.
oh.
with a lamp.
what were the two
of you arguing about?
oh, the usual. sexual
power games, adultery
misplaced anger, denial...
wait
a minute
we're not suspects
in this case, are we?
you two are the last ones
to see him alive.
then weare suspects.
this is going
to be great fun.
great fun,
indeed.
(both sigh )
charming couple.
that was like walking
into thefamily feud.
you watch that show?
no, not really.
and you don't read jackie
mcmillan books, either.
please, jackie, calm down.
(sighs )
well, i don't like it, elliot.
i hate cops,
they just make me nervous.
you weren't there
on the night of the murder.
no, but...
what, you were there
on other occasions?
maybe.
if you were there before
the police are sure
to find your fingerprints.
you better tell
me everything now
so there
aren't any surprises later.
okay, so maybe
i was there once or twice.
to pick up proofs.
is that a crime?
proofs?
yes.
and what
else?
that's all.
what?
i am your agent.
i am here to help you.
but you have
got to
play it straight with me.
were you sleeping with sean?
you sound like a lawyer!
stop cross-examining me.
were you?
(exasperated sigh )
maybe only a little.
there is no such thing
as a little
when it comes to this.
a little and a lot,
it depends on the day.
oh, great, great!
i never took a vow of celibacy
when i got into this thing.
does paul know about this?
he may be drunk, he's not blind.
where is he now?
he's home.
working?
he better be.
someone's
got to write this crap.
i don't know a noun from a verb.
jackie mcmillan,
you're a genius.
this case is straight
out of the tabloids:
the trashy novelist,
drunk husband...
handsome young assistant.
he wasn't that handsome.
just imagine him
with the color
in his face.
you know what
my favorite part is?
is that you are such
a big fan of this lady's.
you are exaggerating.
no, no, no.
i think i got the cross hairs
right on target
dead
center.
uh-huh.
lorenzo.
so.
how's it going on
the andrews case?
it's too early to tell.
we questioned the couple
who employed him.
uh, it's really strange,
though, cap.
they fought all the time.
mmm, married, huh?
yeah.
how often
do you and fran fight?
daily is a word
that comes to mind.
hourly; by the minute
is also good.
and would you say you
have a good marriage?
excellent marriage.
so if two married people
fight all the time
that means...
what do i look like,
a radio talk show host?
i was just asking.
chris:
results came back
from the andrews place.
they got three sets:
paul westlake's, the victim's
and one
without a match.
can you tell us
exactly where you were
the night of the murder?
well, i recall going
to the insufferable
book signing
at 7:00 with jackie.
i stayed until 8:30--
no, make that 9:00.
i remember because
there was a clock
above the door.
where did you go
after that?
to a bar
on third street.
no, wait a minute.
i... i went to a hotel.
i think.
there is
a slight difference
between a hotel
and a bar.
maybe it was
a hotel bar.
you're going to have to do
better than that, sir.
look, i have
this unquenchable thirst
for anything which
is distilled, fermented, brewed
or otherwise concocted
into that most wonderful
substance called alcohol.
oftentimes it plays hell
with my memory.
you suffer from blackouts.
i rather enjoy them, actually.
sometimes i lose entire days.
your fingerprints were found
in the victim's apartment.
that's because
i often went to sean's
to pick up papers
jackie had dictated.
that's how she writes,
by dictation?
yes.
this new technology
has given short shrift
to the notion of a writer
toiling away with a quill pen.
i'd like to listen
to some of those tapes.
why, what do you need them for?
our investigation.
something wrong with that?
jackie would never allow
anyone's eyes on her work
until she'd finished.
an artist's conceit
you understand.
we'll get a subpoena.
that word has a dreadfully
legal feel to it.
doesn't it?
all right, i suppose i can
pull something together.
you have to promise never
to show them to anyone.
you have our word.
westlake:
what have we here?
the deal maker,
the deal breaker.
the great facilitator.
paul.
you look like hell.
lifestyle choice,
dear man.
meet our new friends
from the police department.
sergeants lorenzo and lance.
elliot hammond, jackie's agent.
a pleasure.
hi.
absolutely terrible
what happened to sean.
i've already made
a contribution in his name
to the palm beach library.
there's a place
in heaven for you.
well, uh, i guess
we should be going.
it was a pleasure
meeting you.
a pleasure.
bye-bye.
don't forget the tapes.
righto.
elliot.
nice to meet you.
and you.
paul.
what tapes would
he be referring to?
i told them that jackie dictated
her work into a recorder
and sean transcribed
the tapes.
(whispering ):
what? there aren't
any tapes.
relax, el, you're
about to sweat through
your linen jacket.
as is always the case,
i have everything under control.
everything.
ah, there's something
about westlake i cannot stand.
snotty attitude or
the smell of liquor
on that guy's breath?
what does
jackie see in him?
it's not like
he's a stud.
anybody who drinks like that
doesn't have time
for bedroom activities.
nor the ability.
it's not financial,
jackie made a ton of money.
it's like he has
some hold on her.
however much they fight,
they stay together.
some people
do not know
when to get off
the merry-go-round.
so jackie is
fed up with it all.
she has a thing with her
handsome young assistant.
westlake finds out about it.
he kills said assistant
in a jealous rage.
or a drunken stupor
and he didn't remember it.
did you notice
how he blinked
when you asked him
about those tapes?
like a deer in headlights.
you blinked
when you found out
she dictates her books.
i did not blink.
you thought she toiled
over every word?
no, i did not blink.
i know she doesn't
write shakespeare
but i didn't blink.
you blinked,
you did, you blinked.
ha!
did you like the pasta?
i mean, i kind of felt
like maybe, you know
i used a little too much basil
or not enough garlic or...
it kind of seemed a little off.
what do you think?
what do you think?
now you can't tearyourself
away from palm beach madams.
what are you talking about?
this stuff is ridiculous.
i'm reading it for the case.
mm-hmm.
what part are you at?
well, i'm right...
where brittany is
about to sleep with gates.
but she's not sure
because of luke.
right, wait till you
find out what happens to gates.
hmm?
be quiet, don't tell me,
don't ruin it for me.
okay, look at this.
god, i love this part.
"brittany was
helplessly drawn to gates
"the way a compass is
irrevocably drawn northward.
"but when and how
they would become lovers
"remained an aching mystery.
"and then suddenly...
"her bedroom door flung open
"and there he was in silhouette,
his muscular shoulders visible
"against the amber light
of the hallway...
"and he was on her wordlessly,
somehow knowing it was time.
"his hunger melting into hers.
"brittany felt
the fire ignite in her
"like none she'd ever known.
"her very being
dissolving into gates' hands.
"his hands were everywhere
"grabbing her forcefully
and then tenderly
"until he was where
she longed for him to be...
"and she knew it was
always meant to be.
(together ):
for it was their destiny
and they were lost to it."
this stuff's so stupid.
ridiculous.
corny stuff.
yeah.
destiny, right?
look, i should get going.
yeah, we got
to work tomorrow.
uh...
now, i want
to thank you for dinner.
you're welcome.
it was good.
thanks.
now, you...
do you believe in destiny?
yeah.
why?
ah...
nothing.
good night.
night.
i'll see you tomorrow.
yep.
(sighs )
hmm.
whew.
just read what's on
the computer screen.
i'm not in the mood.
please, just once
try to engage in something
that is not backlit by the sun.
hey! any more
smartass remarks
and i am out
of here, buddy boy.
forgive me,
i stand corrected.
just read
nice and natural.
fine.
(clears throat )
"cassandra's body
ached with anticipation
"her entire being...
awash in longing"?
what?
that doesn't sound right.
"awash in longing"?
what is she, the beach?
look, if i want criticism
i'll pick up a copy
of thenew york times.
read!
fine.
"cassandra's body
ached with anticipation
her entire being
awash in longing."
so what's wrong?
no sleep last night?
mmm...
an hour, max.
i'm telling you,
it's that book.
you got no will power,
none at all.
so, did you get anything
off the c.s.i. computer?
yeah, i got a match on
the third set of prints.
they belong to...
sherrie cerzanski.
she's got a pandering
charge on her sheet
from seven years ago.
nothing since then.
so she's a hooker.
where is she now?
she's a ghost--
nothing from the d.m.v.
nothing from credit reports,
and no occupational license.
her last...
(yawning )
...known place of employment
was the frilly lady.
great work, partner.
why don't you go check it out
and i'm going to stay here
and catch a few zs.
no, no, come on.
you're my partner,
we're going together.
up!
oh... you are mean.
no, i'm just
your alarm clock.
mm-hmm.
wake up.
man:
okay, girls, that's fine.
let's take a five-minute break.
look, all my licenses
are current.
it's nothing
but a lingerie show.
we're not vice,
we're homicide.
oh, that's nice.
do you remember a girl
by the name
of sherrie cerzanski?
oh, if i had her back here,
i would have it made.
that one had it all.
chest, butt, legs
and a smile--
make men melt down
their credit cards.
when was the last time
you saw her?
oh, about seven years ago.
i always knew she'd go places
and, boy, did she ever.
what do you mean?
who knew she had so many stories
in her pretty little head?
what do you mean, stories?
well, she became
one damn good writer.
but she'll always be
sherrie cerzanski to me
though the rest
of the world may know her
as jackie mcmillan.
jack...
rita:
we traced
another set of prints
to andrews' apartment.
to who?
to whom, pet.
to sherrie
cerzanski.
westlake:
uh-oh.
well, now.
now that the proverbial cat
is out of the bag
why don't we all have
a cocktail in celebration?
sherrie
cerzanski just
didn't look right
on a book cover.
no, looks better on a waitress
or a hatcheck girl.
or a lingerie model.
my, my...
we have been busy,
haven't we, inspector holmes?
i do hope we'll keep
this little discovery
to ourselves?
yup.
i want you to replay
something for me.
now both of you...
you were here the night
that andrews was killed, hmm?
right.
both your fingerprints
were at the murder scene.
well, that does have
a nasty tinge to it, doesn't it?
so are you going to arrest us?
not yet.
you got those tapes
those transcripts
for me, paul?
no, i've been swamped
with the arrangements
for jackie's book tour.
i'll get them to you,
detective, i promise.
make sure you do.
scout's honor.
you have a nice day.
(door opens, closes )
if they keep nosing around
they'll find out who writes
these stupid books.
you adorable, luscious,
sexy, wonderful imbecile.
you're worried about that
when you're the prime suspect
in a murder case!
i'm not the only one
whose fingerprints they found.
you're right about that.
that's what i get
for drinking domestic gin.
i'm not thinking clearly.
thank you, lisa.
have i ever told you
you have
a very sexy voice?
ha!
westlake was popped
on a d.u.i. three years ago.
pleaded no contest,
paid the fine.
really?
only one?
mm-hmm.
listen to this:
on the booking report
he listed his occupation
as a writer.
really, what for?
bartender's guides?
(laughs )
i got an address
on our old friend,
sherrie cerzanski.
and i think
that i'm going to drive.
you look
a little... sleepy.
jackie mcmillan addict.
sleepyhead.
how did they track you
back to sherrie?
through my fingerprints.
i told you.
did you tell them
that paul's the real writer?
no.
but maybe we should.
it doesn't matter
who writes the books.
are you out of your mind?
well, i am sick of it, elliot.
all the interviews,
the autographs
it's just really,
really getting old.
let's just let paul be
the big-time writer.
now, now, now...
you are just... tired.
why don't you go
to the beach?
do you know that's all
you ever say to me?
well, let me tell
you something.
i don't want
to go to the beach.
and i do not want
to be a writer.
jackie, jackie,
let's not forget
that nice, big,
house you have.
the pool...
and all the toys...
i know.
but look, elliot
let's just make
paul the writer
and then
i can still have
all that stuff,
can't i?
no.
do you really think
somebody's going
to buy a book
with paul's drunken face
leering out at them?
if the public
ever got wind of this scam
they'd run from you
like you had
the ebola virus.
maybe not.
have you ever heard
of milli vanilli?
yeah.
the ice cream, right?
well, sherrie's lucky.
she's got a talent
that goes way
beyond her bod.
what was
she like?
oh, sweet as can be.
between you and me
she went for
the night life too much.
party girl?
oh, she loved to go
dancing all night.
kyle didn't take
too kindly to that.
who's kyle?
well, her husband,
kyle cerzanski.
he was always tore up
over sherrie.
i think they plain
got married too young.
you know where
we can find kyle?
oh, gee, that'd be hard to do...
he's dead.
going on
seven years now.
how did that happen?
kyle was always jealous.
and sherrie was meeting
all manner of men
at that lingerie place?
eventually she
took up with one.
kyle was so broke up
he shot himself
clean through the heart.
thanks for
your time.
oh.
you run into sherrie
tell her she still has
my blow dryer.
two people
in jackie's life
both shot
through the heart.
i'd like to get a look
at the autopsy report
on kyle cerzanski.
a bullet
through the heart
is not your
average suicide.
no.
so... shot
through the heart.
sounds like that could be
the title for her next book.
i'm going to have
to take you
to a 12-step program
for jackie mcmillan junkies.
this is paul westlake's
ten kinds of loneliness.
so he is
a writer.
yeah...
ten short stories
he wrote when he
was about 20.
any good?
uh...
bleak,
but very moving.
thank you.
you never know
what talent
lies hidden
underneath a drunk.
thank you.
the part
i don't get is...
authors usually
don't dictate
into a recorder,
right?
one day,
sherrie cerzanski
is a lingerie model
in a tract house
the next day,
she is jackie mcmillan
best-selling author.
jackie mcmillan is
paul westlake in drag.
that's great!
exactly.
it's easier
to promote her...
women usually write
those kinds of books.
plus...
paul never produced
those tapes that we asked for.
well, that's because
they don't exist.
andrews had to know
about this, hmm?
so, maybe, he threatened
to blackmail jackie...
she killed him.
or, maybe westlake
killed andrews
to keep him quiet.
which would make sense.
the coroner's report said
the bullet that
killed kyle cerzanski
was fired from a .32
the same as the one
that took out andrews.
you do have lovely skin, love.
hmm.
harder.
harder, you're rubbing
like a girl.
may i do your legs...
please.
feet.
no legs.
come on, please.
don't whimper, paul.
i hate when you do that.
(gasp )
i have a secret to tell you.
what?
i don't think
i'm going to tell you.
that's because
you don't have one.
(gasp )
you like that, don't you, baby?
you really have a secret?
a really nasty one.
tell me.
will you let me
do your legs first?
a little.
it's about your boy toy.
what is it?
if i tell you
will you let me do everything?
is it a really bad secret?
really bad.
if it's really bad...
i'll let you do anything.
what did you do,
you big, bad boy?
you know
what i did?
i killed
the little bastard.
buenos dias.
pase, pase, por favor.
gracias.
thank you.
well, if it isn't my two
favorite homicide detectives.
sit, sit.
thank you.
please, make
yourself at home.
bruise seems
to be going away.
oh... well, i'm sure i'll have
another one soon enough.
jackie has
a monstrous right hook.
i read your book.
i thought it was wonderful.
mybook?
good heavens, where did
you find that old thing?
some archeological dig?
i found it very moving.
i mean that.
thank you, detective,
thank you, indeed.
why would you
quit writing?
the stuff i wrote doesn't
have much of an audience anymore
and everybody wants
glitz and glamour today.
seems like you
might know a little
something about that.
only as a tourist, detective.
rita:
forgive me
for saying this
but, um, your wife
she, she doesn't seem
like much of a writer.
"she doesn't write, she types."
she dictates.
no, it was a literary reference.
by truman capote
referring to clifford irving.
westlake:
very good, detective.
we have a bibliophile among us.
rita:
you don't have
anything that
you're hiding from us, do you?
me?
no, why?
because if you
withhold anything
it will be considered
obstruction of justice.
well, all right.
jackie doesn't do
very much writing.
she doesn't do any writing
at all, does she, paul?
no.
how did you come up
with this idea?
i didn't, really.
a very smart agent, elliot
hammond, dreamt up the idea.
i was broke and nobody
wanted to publish my lofty prose
so he suggested
i write something glitzy
to pick up a little money.
and she looked better
on the back of the cover.
she does look the part,
wouldn't you say?
when you see her
tell her we would
like to speak with her.
wait a minute,
you mustn't be
in such a hurry.
i have something
to confess.
i killed sean andrews.
(sighs )
okay.
how?
i shot him.
huh.
what type of gun
did you use?
it was the usual, a .38.
wrong.
sean andrews
was killed with a .32.
damn my luck.
this guy is so looped
he doesn't know
whether or not
he killed somebody?
he's trying
to shield his wife.
they're obviously in love.
they fight
like cats and dogs!
we have been looking
at this thing all wrong.
wait, wait.
westlake
didn't kill andrews.
andrews and jackie
are having an affair.
when westlake finds out,
will he continue writing?
no, probably not.
so who else stands to lose
if he's not writing?
hammond.
rita:
elliot hammond.
10% of jackie mcmillan's income
feeds a body pretty well,
don't you think?
and since there was
no sign of forced entry
andrews knew who took him out.
right-- so andrews must
be blackmailing hammond.
so he threatens to expose
hammond's involvement
in this svengali-like scheme.
agent takes
him out.
svengali-like scheme?
hey, i read.
that's not bad.
i read, you know?
go to the library
all the time.
that's nice.
jackie:
elliot.
paul said he's going
to turn himself in.
oh, relax, it's just the booze.
no! he is as sober
as i've seen him
in years, elliot.
and he doesn't want to
go on with this phony
writing business.
fine, if he doesn't
want to play along
we'll find
a writer that will.
they're
a dime a dozen.
what?
oh, honey
do you need a road map
for everything?
you know, if paul killed sean,
he must be wracked with guilt.
i mean, being the sensitive
artistic type that he is.
he seemed pretty happy about it.
you know, if he's
extremely despondent, he...
may kill himself, just like
your first husband did.
oh, no.
look...
paul may get a little moody
but, elliot,
he would never off himself.
right... right.
trot home and mix him
some martinis.
i'll come by later and we'll
straighten everything out.
thanks.
the sun feels glorious
today, doesn't it?
you know, baby...
elliot doesn't think
you killed sean.
nor do those two
nice homicide cops.
you confessed?
yes.
but i got the damn thing
all bollixed up.
this murder nonsense
is dreadfully technical.
so youdidn't kill sean?
no.
i presumedyou did.
well, i don't know
how to use a gun.
you're saying you thought
that i killed sean
so you confessed to save me?
yes.
something like that.
that's the nicest thing
you've ever done for me.
oh, come on, love,
let's not get all mushy.
here you go.
just the way
you like it.
all gin.
well...
thank you, darling.
thank you, indeed.
you see, mr. hammond
we know that paul
is the real writer
and jackie is the phony.
well, good for you, detective.
but there is no crime in that.
no.
murder's a crime.
murder?
(chuckling )
are you suggesting
i was involved
in sean andrews' death?
why don't you tell us
where you were
when andrews was killed?
i was at home.
where i am almost every evening,
in bed with a book.
it's a weak alibi, elliot.
i didn't know i was required
to have one.
if you want to find a suspect
you needn't look much further
than paul westlake.
why is that?
ah... well...
i didn't want to say this before
but i overheard paul
threatening sean.
he knew sean was having
an affair with jackie
and i think he finally snapped.
did he confess that to you?
no, but he came pretty close.
well, guess what?
he did confess to us.
really?
then why are you here?
i don't think i'll answer
any more questions right now.
we'll be in touch.
(door closes )
this guy's dirty.
mmm, filthy.
let's do it.
(salsa music playing )
(music stops )
come on, party pooper.
more music.
we're dancing.
sorry, not this time.
oh, no, you've got
that business look.
whatever it is,
it can wait
until tomorrow.
no, no, paul, it cannot wait.
that wouldn't be a .32,
would it, el?
maybe.
what are you doing with it?
you're the writer,
why don'tyou tell me?
it's pretty clear
you killed andrews.
but just let me
make certain
i get the
denouement right.
sean threatened to expose
our little writing charade
unless you paid him off
to go away.
so you shot him.
mm-hmm.
yeah, something like that.
elliot, we have
more money
than we can spend
in two lifetimes.
why didn't you
just pay him?
because that kind of scum
never goes away.
he was just like kyle
in that regard.
the book ends
with a little twist.
you killed
him, too.
(chuckling )
you mean, kyle
didn'tkill himself?
youdid it,
elliot?
sometimes it takes a while
but eventually you do get it.
the police have
been getting
a bit too close
so, i'm going
to have to shoot you
and make it look like a suicide.
it won't work three times.
oh, yes, it will.
(grunts )
police!
don't move, elliot.
well, i guess this is
the last jackie mcmillan book.
well, no, it's better
the truth come out.
yeah. think people
are going to read them
written by paul?
sure, why not?
you know, a page-turner
is a page-turner.
so what are you doing tonight?
well, um, i think i'll go to
the gym for a couple of hours
and then i got a hot date.
we'll go see
a movie maybe.
maybe get
a little dinner.
who's the lucky lady?
uh... just somebody i met
the other day.
i haven't told
you about her
because, well, i just met her
the other day.
uh-huh.
well, have a good time, okay?
yeah.
so, what, uh,
what are you going to do?
oh, i don't know,
i'm pretty tired.
i think i will just go home
and catch up on some sleep.
yeah, well, see you tomorrow.
see you.
partner?
gotcha.
[captioning sponsored by
usa network
captioned by
the caption center
wgbh educational foundation]
sergeant lance.
where the hell are you?
well, you know,
actually i've been swamped.
things are
kind of backed up here at court.
why is it so noisy?
well, uh...
just the wheels
of justice turning.
the wheels of justice turning...
what are you doing?
chris, listen,
you're breaking up...
i'll call you later, okay?
hello.
hello.
and who shall i
make it out to?
(flustered ):
uh, rita...
if you don't mind,
up there in the corner
and you can do it
kind of small.
there, rita.
okay.
thank you.
oops, thanks.
your pen.
thank you.
this new book is going
to go through the roof.
get my hard hat.
my kingdom for a match.
paul, how much have
you had to drink?
not enough.
light me, elliot.
i'm done. my hand feels like
it's going to fall off.
shh, be quiet,
somebody's going
to hear you.
(sarcastically ):
sorry. dear me, i'm tired
from the excitement
of this lovely affair.
(chuckling )
do another hour.
forget it.
i'd rather do the hour
at coconut grove--
scare up some trouble.
oh, yes, but we always have
the same trouble, dear wife.
you wind up spending
the night on your back
and we have a terrible
row the next day.
you forget, husband.
i like it when i'm on top
and the boys are on their backs.
i'm warning you
if you go...
sean.
...you'll have me
to play with later.
hey, what's up?
the talking
lapdog.
but you're humping
more than a leg
aren't you, young sean?
get my things.
we're history.
(heavy breathing )
i don't know, jack.
jackie, paul could
come in any minute.
it's okay.
it turns me on more
in his bed.
no, this is just too weird.
(chuckling )
listen, we're just
getting started, baby.
(pot crashes )
what was that?
nothing.
now get back to work.
do me with the hot oil.
okay.
yes.
now come and lick it off.
you bitch.
i'll kill you.
[captioning sponsored by
usa network]
guilty?
yes! all right!
when is
the sentencing scheduled?
good job, george.
yeah, you keep me posted,
all right?
jury came back on the simpson
trial-- guilty as charged.
not innocent, but... uh...
not guilty.
oh, elvis called
he said that he'd like
to take you to lunch.
oop... i'll get it!
hold on a second.
what do we have--
a little philosophical
reading here?
uh...palm beach madams.
chris, give me my book back.
hold on a second.
hey, hey,
time out.
lorenzo, lance?
go to your corner.
what's the battle
about this time?
chris has my book,
and i would like it back.
all right, lorenzo,
come on.
what is this?
it's a trashy novel,
i picked it up for fran.
she likes that author.
uh, if this book
is for frannie
why does it say,
"to rita"?
chris:
ha, busted.
pardon the expression.
enough with the harvard
classics.
you got a live one
over at 511
tamarind drive.
thank you, captain.
okay, white male,
early 20s
one shot,
straight to the heart.
usually does the trick.
what about the bullet?
.32 caliber. i sent it
to ballistics.
all right.
nothing under
the fingernails.
got no apparent
contusions or abrasions.
that rules out
signs of a struggle.
yep, body seemed
to be in excellent shape.
except for the fact
it's a little cold.
unlike yours,
sergeant.
you look like
a perfect 98.6.
it's all
the clean living.
uh-huh.
oh, i bet you have
your dirty moments, too.
not enough.
they say it takes
two to tango.
i just happen to have
an extra pair of dance shoes
back at my place.
rita:
well, there is, uh
no broken windows or locks.
he still had his money
in his wallet.
his stereo and tv
weren't touched.
so, it rules out robbery.
guy must
have known
the perp.
neighbors heard
no gunshots,
no arguments.
you fix the time of death yet?
yeah, i'd say based
on liver temperature--
12:30, 1:00.
i guess it's easy enough
to muffle the sound
of a single shot.
looks premeditated
to me.
what kind of person would shoot
through the heart?
hopeless romantic.
i don't know, a lover
with the soul of a poet?
or just
a plain old jealous spouse.
which pretty much leaves
the entire city
of palm beach
as a suspect.
obviously,
this is where he worked.
check this out--
a paycheck stub.
made out last week
from lipstick publications.
1155 west sycamore lane.
that's a high-rent
district.
who shot you through the heart,
sean andrews?
morning, love.
who's winning the battle today?
you, or mean old mr. sun?
oh, sometimes
it may be a standoff, darling.
but i never lose a battle.
so i've discovered.
you were in rare
form last night.
was i?
top shelf.
you pushed
all the buttons.
my family
my lack of an education,
my taste, my friends.
you hit them all.
splendid.
i hope i wasn't too repetitive.
i hate to be boorish.
that, at least,
you've never been.
i thought you were
going to kill sean and i.
and me, sweetheart.
sean and me.
you've misplaced your objective.
wrong, professor higgins.
i lost it entirely
when i married you!
ooh.
just another cabin
in the woods.
with hot and cold
running servants.
(knock at door )
good morning
we're with palm beach
police department.
(speaking
in spanish )
(voices arguing )
(speaking excitedly
in spanish )
(glass crashing )
i wouldn't have to go
all over town looking for it
if you weren't so loaded
and your little friend came
to attention...
silence, please, i beg you.
you want me to shut up?
great! i'll shut up!
(screaming )
thus spoke zarathustra.
are you done, precious?
no!
(screaming )
sorry to interrupt
the festivities, folks.
can i help you?
i was at your book-signing.
you're jackie
mcmillan.
is there no end
to cult of personality?
please leave
immediately
or i shall have to call
the localgendarmes.
weare
the local jender-arms.
sergeant lorenzo,
sergeant lance.
i told you the noise level
was verging on improper!
shut up!
it has nothing to do
with the
noise level.
one of your employees,
sean andrews
was murdered last night.
sean?
is dead?
afraid so.
well, i can't believe it,
just last night...
just last night, what, love?
do you work here?
in a manner of speaking, yes.
i'm jackie's husband,
paul westlake.
did you see mr. andrews
last night?
he was here
at the house.
he left around 10:00.
it's the last i saw him.
was he alone?
yes.
what work did he do for you?
that's a good question,
detective.
he was my personal assistant.
i still can't
believe he's dead.
please, get off
the sarah bernhardt
routine
he only typed
40 words a minute.
would either
of you
care for
a cocktail?
ah, yes, duty calls.
what did you do
after he left?
we talked.
yes, a nice
long chat.
how did you get
that bruise
on your cheek?
would you help me
with that, love?
of course.
i hit you.
oh.
with a lamp.
what were the two
of you arguing about?
oh, the usual. sexual
power games, adultery
misplaced anger, denial...
wait
a minute
we're not suspects
in this case, are we?
you two are the last ones
to see him alive.
then weare suspects.
this is going
to be great fun.
great fun,
indeed.
(both sigh )
charming couple.
that was like walking
into thefamily feud.
you watch that show?
no, not really.
and you don't read jackie
mcmillan books, either.
please, jackie, calm down.
(sighs )
well, i don't like it, elliot.
i hate cops,
they just make me nervous.
you weren't there
on the night of the murder.
no, but...
what, you were there
on other occasions?
maybe.
if you were there before
the police are sure
to find your fingerprints.
you better tell
me everything now
so there
aren't any surprises later.
okay, so maybe
i was there once or twice.
to pick up proofs.
is that a crime?
proofs?
yes.
and what
else?
that's all.
what?
i am your agent.
i am here to help you.
but you have
got to
play it straight with me.
were you sleeping with sean?
you sound like a lawyer!
stop cross-examining me.
were you?
(exasperated sigh )
maybe only a little.
there is no such thing
as a little
when it comes to this.
a little and a lot,
it depends on the day.
oh, great, great!
i never took a vow of celibacy
when i got into this thing.
does paul know about this?
he may be drunk, he's not blind.
where is he now?
he's home.
working?
he better be.
someone's
got to write this crap.
i don't know a noun from a verb.
jackie mcmillan,
you're a genius.
this case is straight
out of the tabloids:
the trashy novelist,
drunk husband...
handsome young assistant.
he wasn't that handsome.
just imagine him
with the color
in his face.
you know what
my favorite part is?
is that you are such
a big fan of this lady's.
you are exaggerating.
no, no, no.
i think i got the cross hairs
right on target
dead
center.
uh-huh.
lorenzo.
so.
how's it going on
the andrews case?
it's too early to tell.
we questioned the couple
who employed him.
uh, it's really strange,
though, cap.
they fought all the time.
mmm, married, huh?
yeah.
how often
do you and fran fight?
daily is a word
that comes to mind.
hourly; by the minute
is also good.
and would you say you
have a good marriage?
excellent marriage.
so if two married people
fight all the time
that means...
what do i look like,
a radio talk show host?
i was just asking.
chris:
results came back
from the andrews place.
they got three sets:
paul westlake's, the victim's
and one
without a match.
can you tell us
exactly where you were
the night of the murder?
well, i recall going
to the insufferable
book signing
at 7:00 with jackie.
i stayed until 8:30--
no, make that 9:00.
i remember because
there was a clock
above the door.
where did you go
after that?
to a bar
on third street.
no, wait a minute.
i... i went to a hotel.
i think.
there is
a slight difference
between a hotel
and a bar.
maybe it was
a hotel bar.
you're going to have to do
better than that, sir.
look, i have
this unquenchable thirst
for anything which
is distilled, fermented, brewed
or otherwise concocted
into that most wonderful
substance called alcohol.
oftentimes it plays hell
with my memory.
you suffer from blackouts.
i rather enjoy them, actually.
sometimes i lose entire days.
your fingerprints were found
in the victim's apartment.
that's because
i often went to sean's
to pick up papers
jackie had dictated.
that's how she writes,
by dictation?
yes.
this new technology
has given short shrift
to the notion of a writer
toiling away with a quill pen.
i'd like to listen
to some of those tapes.
why, what do you need them for?
our investigation.
something wrong with that?
jackie would never allow
anyone's eyes on her work
until she'd finished.
an artist's conceit
you understand.
we'll get a subpoena.
that word has a dreadfully
legal feel to it.
doesn't it?
all right, i suppose i can
pull something together.
you have to promise never
to show them to anyone.
you have our word.
westlake:
what have we here?
the deal maker,
the deal breaker.
the great facilitator.
paul.
you look like hell.
lifestyle choice,
dear man.
meet our new friends
from the police department.
sergeants lorenzo and lance.
elliot hammond, jackie's agent.
a pleasure.
hi.
absolutely terrible
what happened to sean.
i've already made
a contribution in his name
to the palm beach library.
there's a place
in heaven for you.
well, uh, i guess
we should be going.
it was a pleasure
meeting you.
a pleasure.
bye-bye.
don't forget the tapes.
righto.
elliot.
nice to meet you.
and you.
paul.
what tapes would
he be referring to?
i told them that jackie dictated
her work into a recorder
and sean transcribed
the tapes.
(whispering ):
what? there aren't
any tapes.
relax, el, you're
about to sweat through
your linen jacket.
as is always the case,
i have everything under control.
everything.
ah, there's something
about westlake i cannot stand.
snotty attitude or
the smell of liquor
on that guy's breath?
what does
jackie see in him?
it's not like
he's a stud.
anybody who drinks like that
doesn't have time
for bedroom activities.
nor the ability.
it's not financial,
jackie made a ton of money.
it's like he has
some hold on her.
however much they fight,
they stay together.
some people
do not know
when to get off
the merry-go-round.
so jackie is
fed up with it all.
she has a thing with her
handsome young assistant.
westlake finds out about it.
he kills said assistant
in a jealous rage.
or a drunken stupor
and he didn't remember it.
did you notice
how he blinked
when you asked him
about those tapes?
like a deer in headlights.
you blinked
when you found out
she dictates her books.
i did not blink.
you thought she toiled
over every word?
no, i did not blink.
i know she doesn't
write shakespeare
but i didn't blink.
you blinked,
you did, you blinked.
ha!
did you like the pasta?
i mean, i kind of felt
like maybe, you know
i used a little too much basil
or not enough garlic or...
it kind of seemed a little off.
what do you think?
what do you think?
now you can't tearyourself
away from palm beach madams.
what are you talking about?
this stuff is ridiculous.
i'm reading it for the case.
mm-hmm.
what part are you at?
well, i'm right...
where brittany is
about to sleep with gates.
but she's not sure
because of luke.
right, wait till you
find out what happens to gates.
hmm?
be quiet, don't tell me,
don't ruin it for me.
okay, look at this.
god, i love this part.
"brittany was
helplessly drawn to gates
"the way a compass is
irrevocably drawn northward.
"but when and how
they would become lovers
"remained an aching mystery.
"and then suddenly...
"her bedroom door flung open
"and there he was in silhouette,
his muscular shoulders visible
"against the amber light
of the hallway...
"and he was on her wordlessly,
somehow knowing it was time.
"his hunger melting into hers.
"brittany felt
the fire ignite in her
"like none she'd ever known.
"her very being
dissolving into gates' hands.
"his hands were everywhere
"grabbing her forcefully
and then tenderly
"until he was where
she longed for him to be...
"and she knew it was
always meant to be.
(together ):
for it was their destiny
and they were lost to it."
this stuff's so stupid.
ridiculous.
corny stuff.
yeah.
destiny, right?
look, i should get going.
yeah, we got
to work tomorrow.
uh...
now, i want
to thank you for dinner.
you're welcome.
it was good.
thanks.
now, you...
do you believe in destiny?
yeah.
why?
ah...
nothing.
good night.
night.
i'll see you tomorrow.
yep.
(sighs )
hmm.
whew.
just read what's on
the computer screen.
i'm not in the mood.
please, just once
try to engage in something
that is not backlit by the sun.
hey! any more
smartass remarks
and i am out
of here, buddy boy.
forgive me,
i stand corrected.
just read
nice and natural.
fine.
(clears throat )
"cassandra's body
ached with anticipation
"her entire being...
awash in longing"?
what?
that doesn't sound right.
"awash in longing"?
what is she, the beach?
look, if i want criticism
i'll pick up a copy
of thenew york times.
read!
fine.
"cassandra's body
ached with anticipation
her entire being
awash in longing."
so what's wrong?
no sleep last night?
mmm...
an hour, max.
i'm telling you,
it's that book.
you got no will power,
none at all.
so, did you get anything
off the c.s.i. computer?
yeah, i got a match on
the third set of prints.
they belong to...
sherrie cerzanski.
she's got a pandering
charge on her sheet
from seven years ago.
nothing since then.
so she's a hooker.
where is she now?
she's a ghost--
nothing from the d.m.v.
nothing from credit reports,
and no occupational license.
her last...
(yawning )
...known place of employment
was the frilly lady.
great work, partner.
why don't you go check it out
and i'm going to stay here
and catch a few zs.
no, no, come on.
you're my partner,
we're going together.
up!
oh... you are mean.
no, i'm just
your alarm clock.
mm-hmm.
wake up.
man:
okay, girls, that's fine.
let's take a five-minute break.
look, all my licenses
are current.
it's nothing
but a lingerie show.
we're not vice,
we're homicide.
oh, that's nice.
do you remember a girl
by the name
of sherrie cerzanski?
oh, if i had her back here,
i would have it made.
that one had it all.
chest, butt, legs
and a smile--
make men melt down
their credit cards.
when was the last time
you saw her?
oh, about seven years ago.
i always knew she'd go places
and, boy, did she ever.
what do you mean?
who knew she had so many stories
in her pretty little head?
what do you mean, stories?
well, she became
one damn good writer.
but she'll always be
sherrie cerzanski to me
though the rest
of the world may know her
as jackie mcmillan.
jack...
rita:
we traced
another set of prints
to andrews' apartment.
to who?
to whom, pet.
to sherrie
cerzanski.
westlake:
uh-oh.
well, now.
now that the proverbial cat
is out of the bag
why don't we all have
a cocktail in celebration?
sherrie
cerzanski just
didn't look right
on a book cover.
no, looks better on a waitress
or a hatcheck girl.
or a lingerie model.
my, my...
we have been busy,
haven't we, inspector holmes?
i do hope we'll keep
this little discovery
to ourselves?
yup.
i want you to replay
something for me.
now both of you...
you were here the night
that andrews was killed, hmm?
right.
both your fingerprints
were at the murder scene.
well, that does have
a nasty tinge to it, doesn't it?
so are you going to arrest us?
not yet.
you got those tapes
those transcripts
for me, paul?
no, i've been swamped
with the arrangements
for jackie's book tour.
i'll get them to you,
detective, i promise.
make sure you do.
scout's honor.
you have a nice day.
(door opens, closes )
if they keep nosing around
they'll find out who writes
these stupid books.
you adorable, luscious,
sexy, wonderful imbecile.
you're worried about that
when you're the prime suspect
in a murder case!
i'm not the only one
whose fingerprints they found.
you're right about that.
that's what i get
for drinking domestic gin.
i'm not thinking clearly.
thank you, lisa.
have i ever told you
you have
a very sexy voice?
ha!
westlake was popped
on a d.u.i. three years ago.
pleaded no contest,
paid the fine.
really?
only one?
mm-hmm.
listen to this:
on the booking report
he listed his occupation
as a writer.
really, what for?
bartender's guides?
(laughs )
i got an address
on our old friend,
sherrie cerzanski.
and i think
that i'm going to drive.
you look
a little... sleepy.
jackie mcmillan addict.
sleepyhead.
how did they track you
back to sherrie?
through my fingerprints.
i told you.
did you tell them
that paul's the real writer?
no.
but maybe we should.
it doesn't matter
who writes the books.
are you out of your mind?
well, i am sick of it, elliot.
all the interviews,
the autographs
it's just really,
really getting old.
let's just let paul be
the big-time writer.
now, now, now...
you are just... tired.
why don't you go
to the beach?
do you know that's all
you ever say to me?
well, let me tell
you something.
i don't want
to go to the beach.
and i do not want
to be a writer.
jackie, jackie,
let's not forget
that nice, big,
house you have.
the pool...
and all the toys...
i know.
but look, elliot
let's just make
paul the writer
and then
i can still have
all that stuff,
can't i?
no.
do you really think
somebody's going
to buy a book
with paul's drunken face
leering out at them?
if the public
ever got wind of this scam
they'd run from you
like you had
the ebola virus.
maybe not.
have you ever heard
of milli vanilli?
yeah.
the ice cream, right?
well, sherrie's lucky.
she's got a talent
that goes way
beyond her bod.
what was
she like?
oh, sweet as can be.
between you and me
she went for
the night life too much.
party girl?
oh, she loved to go
dancing all night.
kyle didn't take
too kindly to that.
who's kyle?
well, her husband,
kyle cerzanski.
he was always tore up
over sherrie.
i think they plain
got married too young.
you know where
we can find kyle?
oh, gee, that'd be hard to do...
he's dead.
going on
seven years now.
how did that happen?
kyle was always jealous.
and sherrie was meeting
all manner of men
at that lingerie place?
eventually she
took up with one.
kyle was so broke up
he shot himself
clean through the heart.
thanks for
your time.
oh.
you run into sherrie
tell her she still has
my blow dryer.
two people
in jackie's life
both shot
through the heart.
i'd like to get a look
at the autopsy report
on kyle cerzanski.
a bullet
through the heart
is not your
average suicide.
no.
so... shot
through the heart.
sounds like that could be
the title for her next book.
i'm going to have
to take you
to a 12-step program
for jackie mcmillan junkies.
this is paul westlake's
ten kinds of loneliness.
so he is
a writer.
yeah...
ten short stories
he wrote when he
was about 20.
any good?
uh...
bleak,
but very moving.
thank you.
you never know
what talent
lies hidden
underneath a drunk.
thank you.
the part
i don't get is...
authors usually
don't dictate
into a recorder,
right?
one day,
sherrie cerzanski
is a lingerie model
in a tract house
the next day,
she is jackie mcmillan
best-selling author.
jackie mcmillan is
paul westlake in drag.
that's great!
exactly.
it's easier
to promote her...
women usually write
those kinds of books.
plus...
paul never produced
those tapes that we asked for.
well, that's because
they don't exist.
andrews had to know
about this, hmm?
so, maybe, he threatened
to blackmail jackie...
she killed him.
or, maybe westlake
killed andrews
to keep him quiet.
which would make sense.
the coroner's report said
the bullet that
killed kyle cerzanski
was fired from a .32
the same as the one
that took out andrews.
you do have lovely skin, love.
hmm.
harder.
harder, you're rubbing
like a girl.
may i do your legs...
please.
feet.
no legs.
come on, please.
don't whimper, paul.
i hate when you do that.
(gasp )
i have a secret to tell you.
what?
i don't think
i'm going to tell you.
that's because
you don't have one.
(gasp )
you like that, don't you, baby?
you really have a secret?
a really nasty one.
tell me.
will you let me
do your legs first?
a little.
it's about your boy toy.
what is it?
if i tell you
will you let me do everything?
is it a really bad secret?
really bad.
if it's really bad...
i'll let you do anything.
what did you do,
you big, bad boy?
you know
what i did?
i killed
the little bastard.
buenos dias.
pase, pase, por favor.
gracias.
thank you.
well, if it isn't my two
favorite homicide detectives.
sit, sit.
thank you.
please, make
yourself at home.
bruise seems
to be going away.
oh... well, i'm sure i'll have
another one soon enough.
jackie has
a monstrous right hook.
i read your book.
i thought it was wonderful.
mybook?
good heavens, where did
you find that old thing?
some archeological dig?
i found it very moving.
i mean that.
thank you, detective,
thank you, indeed.
why would you
quit writing?
the stuff i wrote doesn't
have much of an audience anymore
and everybody wants
glitz and glamour today.
seems like you
might know a little
something about that.
only as a tourist, detective.
rita:
forgive me
for saying this
but, um, your wife
she, she doesn't seem
like much of a writer.
"she doesn't write, she types."
she dictates.
no, it was a literary reference.
by truman capote
referring to clifford irving.
westlake:
very good, detective.
we have a bibliophile among us.
rita:
you don't have
anything that
you're hiding from us, do you?
me?
no, why?
because if you
withhold anything
it will be considered
obstruction of justice.
well, all right.
jackie doesn't do
very much writing.
she doesn't do any writing
at all, does she, paul?
no.
how did you come up
with this idea?
i didn't, really.
a very smart agent, elliot
hammond, dreamt up the idea.
i was broke and nobody
wanted to publish my lofty prose
so he suggested
i write something glitzy
to pick up a little money.
and she looked better
on the back of the cover.
she does look the part,
wouldn't you say?
when you see her
tell her we would
like to speak with her.
wait a minute,
you mustn't be
in such a hurry.
i have something
to confess.
i killed sean andrews.
(sighs )
okay.
how?
i shot him.
huh.
what type of gun
did you use?
it was the usual, a .38.
wrong.
sean andrews
was killed with a .32.
damn my luck.
this guy is so looped
he doesn't know
whether or not
he killed somebody?
he's trying
to shield his wife.
they're obviously in love.
they fight
like cats and dogs!
we have been looking
at this thing all wrong.
wait, wait.
westlake
didn't kill andrews.
andrews and jackie
are having an affair.
when westlake finds out,
will he continue writing?
no, probably not.
so who else stands to lose
if he's not writing?
hammond.
rita:
elliot hammond.
10% of jackie mcmillan's income
feeds a body pretty well,
don't you think?
and since there was
no sign of forced entry
andrews knew who took him out.
right-- so andrews must
be blackmailing hammond.
so he threatens to expose
hammond's involvement
in this svengali-like scheme.
agent takes
him out.
svengali-like scheme?
hey, i read.
that's not bad.
i read, you know?
go to the library
all the time.
that's nice.
jackie:
elliot.
paul said he's going
to turn himself in.
oh, relax, it's just the booze.
no! he is as sober
as i've seen him
in years, elliot.
and he doesn't want to
go on with this phony
writing business.
fine, if he doesn't
want to play along
we'll find
a writer that will.
they're
a dime a dozen.
what?
oh, honey
do you need a road map
for everything?
you know, if paul killed sean,
he must be wracked with guilt.
i mean, being the sensitive
artistic type that he is.
he seemed pretty happy about it.
you know, if he's
extremely despondent, he...
may kill himself, just like
your first husband did.
oh, no.
look...
paul may get a little moody
but, elliot,
he would never off himself.
right... right.
trot home and mix him
some martinis.
i'll come by later and we'll
straighten everything out.
thanks.
the sun feels glorious
today, doesn't it?
you know, baby...
elliot doesn't think
you killed sean.
nor do those two
nice homicide cops.
you confessed?
yes.
but i got the damn thing
all bollixed up.
this murder nonsense
is dreadfully technical.
so youdidn't kill sean?
no.
i presumedyou did.
well, i don't know
how to use a gun.
you're saying you thought
that i killed sean
so you confessed to save me?
yes.
something like that.
that's the nicest thing
you've ever done for me.
oh, come on, love,
let's not get all mushy.
here you go.
just the way
you like it.
all gin.
well...
thank you, darling.
thank you, indeed.
you see, mr. hammond
we know that paul
is the real writer
and jackie is the phony.
well, good for you, detective.
but there is no crime in that.
no.
murder's a crime.
murder?
(chuckling )
are you suggesting
i was involved
in sean andrews' death?
why don't you tell us
where you were
when andrews was killed?
i was at home.
where i am almost every evening,
in bed with a book.
it's a weak alibi, elliot.
i didn't know i was required
to have one.
if you want to find a suspect
you needn't look much further
than paul westlake.
why is that?
ah... well...
i didn't want to say this before
but i overheard paul
threatening sean.
he knew sean was having
an affair with jackie
and i think he finally snapped.
did he confess that to you?
no, but he came pretty close.
well, guess what?
he did confess to us.
really?
then why are you here?
i don't think i'll answer
any more questions right now.
we'll be in touch.
(door closes )
this guy's dirty.
mmm, filthy.
let's do it.
(salsa music playing )
(music stops )
come on, party pooper.
more music.
we're dancing.
sorry, not this time.
oh, no, you've got
that business look.
whatever it is,
it can wait
until tomorrow.
no, no, paul, it cannot wait.
that wouldn't be a .32,
would it, el?
maybe.
what are you doing with it?
you're the writer,
why don'tyou tell me?
it's pretty clear
you killed andrews.
but just let me
make certain
i get the
denouement right.
sean threatened to expose
our little writing charade
unless you paid him off
to go away.
so you shot him.
mm-hmm.
yeah, something like that.
elliot, we have
more money
than we can spend
in two lifetimes.
why didn't you
just pay him?
because that kind of scum
never goes away.
he was just like kyle
in that regard.
the book ends
with a little twist.
you killed
him, too.
(chuckling )
you mean, kyle
didn'tkill himself?
youdid it,
elliot?
sometimes it takes a while
but eventually you do get it.
the police have
been getting
a bit too close
so, i'm going
to have to shoot you
and make it look like a suicide.
it won't work three times.
oh, yes, it will.
(grunts )
police!
don't move, elliot.
well, i guess this is
the last jackie mcmillan book.
well, no, it's better
the truth come out.
yeah. think people
are going to read them
written by paul?
sure, why not?
you know, a page-turner
is a page-turner.
so what are you doing tonight?
well, um, i think i'll go to
the gym for a couple of hours
and then i got a hot date.
we'll go see
a movie maybe.
maybe get
a little dinner.
who's the lucky lady?
uh... just somebody i met
the other day.
i haven't told
you about her
because, well, i just met her
the other day.
uh-huh.
well, have a good time, okay?
yeah.
so, what, uh,
what are you going to do?
oh, i don't know,
i'm pretty tired.
i think i will just go home
and catch up on some sleep.
yeah, well, see you tomorrow.
see you.
partner?
gotcha.
[captioning sponsored by
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captioned by
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wgbh educational foundation]