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Turn around.

Turn around.

Turn the car around
and get the hell out of here.

Right now.

Stupid--

Don't go back.

Do not go back there.

Hey!

Hey!

What the hell's going on
in here?

You stole my story.

Well?

I'm sorry. Do I--?

I don't believe I 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 wanna be assured.

If you want to
talk to someone

about some grievance
you feel you may have,

you can call my literary agent
in New York.

This is between you and me.

We don't need any 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 is in fact 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.

You're gonna have to 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?

Oh.

Oh.

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 own 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, shit. Oh, sh--

Oh, thank God.

From the sound of you,
I didn't know what to think.

Here, let me get this.
That's my job.

I'm terribly sorry, Mrs. Garvey.
I really am.

I'll take care of this,
Mr. Rainey.

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.

John Shooter.
It's not me.

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

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
some made-up name.

No, no.

Mrs. Garvey,
what I'm trying to tell you

is that someone else
wrote this story.

Oh. Okey-dokey, then.

"A woman who would 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."

Why don't you come to
the flea market? 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.

Huh.

Shit.

I didn't steal it.

What?

Mr. Rainey?
Mmm?

I'm all done.

Really? So soon? Well...

I'll see you next time.

Mr. Rainey...

There's something
I want to say.

Oh, no.
Some women don't know

a good thing
when they got it.

Mm.

Some women don't know
they got the whole world

and it's right
in front of their nose.

Mm-hmm.
There. That's it.

Not another word from me.

Mr. Rainey?
Hm.

Can I make you something
to eat?

No. I ate.

Well, earlier.

I'm gonna 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 personal business.

Oh! My pillows now.

Her sticky, weird fingers
on my privacy.

I didn't steal that story.

I don't think.

Wha--? Mm.

- 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 all alone.

Anything could happen
and nobody would know.

I'd know.

Right.

Hey, hey.

How's my little baby puppy?

Did Chico ever 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.

And, um,
I was making a sandwich

and I had this sensation
that you might not be okay.

I held off as long as possible.

Um, 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...

The woman has the garden,

and then the guy
has the, uh, 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?

Well, 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 kind of weird
on that one.

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

What do you mean, "influenced,"
anyway?

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, you know, 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.

Oh, shit.

Shit. Shit. Shit.

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.

Well, sure, that's
the whole point, isn't it?

Two writers show up
with the same story,

it's all about who wrote
the words first.

Wouldn't you say
that's true?

I suppose I would.

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 money-scribbling asshole
like you

get down to a little
shitsplat town in Mississippi

and steal my goddamn story?

Drop it.
Drop it?

Drop it. What in the hell
do you mean, drop it?

You said you wrote
your story in 1997.

I wrote mine
in late '94.

It was published
for the first time

in June 1995
in a magazine.

Nice try,
Mr. Shooter,

but I beat you
by two years.

So if anybody's got a bitch
about plagiarism, it's me.

You lie!

No, I don't!

Prove it!

I don't have to prove a thing
to you.

Go look for yourself.

Ellery Queen's
Mystery Magazine, June 1995.

And how am I supposed
to find that?

That's not my problem.

Am I supposed to drive

down to your house
in Riverdale, New York,

and ask your wife, Amy,
for it?

I read it on your book jacket.

That's not my house.
That's hers.

What the hell does that mean?

What do you think it means,
you ignorant hick?

I'm in the middle of a divorce.

D-I-V-O-R-C-E.

Divorce.

You strike me as the kind of guy

who's on the lookout for a head
he can knock off with a shovel.

But what
you don't understand is,

if we do start to fight...

it's not gonna end

until one or the other of us
is dead.

Hold your water,
I'm just getting my smokes.

I don't smoke.

I'll give you three days.

You call your ex
and get her to send you

the magazine
with your story in it,

if there is such a magazine,

and I'll be back.

If I show it to you, will you go
back to wherever you came from

and leave me alone?

Three days.

Always a pleasure
to meet a reader.

I don't want to call her.

I want to go to sleep.
I want to take a nap.

Huh?

Okay. No nap.

I give her a call
about the magazine,

I go write some crap
for a couple of hours

and then I get to take a nap.
Right?

Chico?

♪ Chico

♪ Don't be discouraged ♪

All right, go ahead and be
discouraged, you blind bastard.

See if I care.

And returned to the couch...

in shame...

degradation...

and sloth.

Sloth.

Shooter!

I'll get you for this!

You hear me?

I'll get you for this!

Chico? He killed Chico?

Yeah. Last night around 9.
I was asleep.

He left this.

"You have three days.
Am not joking. No police."

Anytime somebody sits down
and writes "No police,"

that's just about
exactly the time

that a fella should get himself
over to the police.

Yeah. Yeah, well,
that's what I figured.

So, what I've got is
a detailed description of him.

I've got a detailed description
of his car.

Type a little harder.

You have to get
through the carbon.

You know what? I didn't get
the license plate number

but I'm sure that it had
Mississippi tags.

And I think
that it started with an A.

At least, that's what I see
in my mind.

Needlepoint.
Can you believe it?

Doc says it's good
for the arthritis.

Yeah.

Anyway, anything you can
find out about this guy,

I'd really appreciate it.

I must cut
quite an intimidating

law-enforcement figure, huh?

I-- I'd like to know
what I'm dealing with here,

because maybe he's got a--
A violent history.

I mean, maybe you can find him,
talk to him.

I think that would probably
be better.

So you got yourself a member
of the crazy folks tribe?

Yeah. I mean, they pop up
every once in a while.

I suppose it's just the price
of selling a few books.

Sorry.

Here's the, uh--
Here's that description.

Killing an animal
isn't like killing a man.

I'm not even sure that
it's a crime, come to think.

Come on, it's gotta be.
What about animal cruelty?

What about destruction
of private property?

What about--?
Yeah, yeah. Maybe.

Okay.

First thing I'm gonna need
is a description.

Tell me the truth.
Did you steal it?

What? No!

Kind of an amazing coincidence,
don't you think?

The stories being so much alike?

Well, obviously the guy
copied it from me.

Would you like to choose a side
before we continue?

I'm on your side. But I still
need to know the truth.

Which kind of situation is this?

Is he a regular wacko
like you've had before,

in which case I can help,

or is this something you should
be talking to your lawyer about?

No. This guy is just simply
out of his mind.

That's all it is.

Fine. Okay.

What do you want me to do?

I want you to help me
in the same way that...

In the same way
that you did before.

He wasn't this crazy.

That guy was just
an obsessed reader

who couldn't tell real life

from the crap
you make up for a living.

No offense.

Now, this Shooter guy,
he threaten your life?

He put a screwdriver
through my dog.

Well, he did break a law,

but it doesn't seem to be
a very important law

in Tashmore Lake.

The sheriff...

must be a cat person.

Yeah, well,
I don't exactly feel safe

with a 70-year-old arthritic
sheriff watching my back.

Are you gonna help me or not?

Uh, let's see.

I got a...

corporate loyalty thing
I got to be back for on Friday,

but I can give you
a couple of days.

Okay.

My story came out
a couple years...

before he says he wrote his.

So I've got a copy of
the original up at Amy's house.

I was just gonna stop by

on my way upstate
and pick it up.

Amy's house?
Yeah.

Amy and I split up
about six months ago.

I'm sorry.

Yeah, me too.

Amicable?
Not remotely.

What happened? Did you finally
nail one of your groupies

at a book signing?

The Omaha Barnes and Noble?

That was a dick thing to say,
you know? Rotten profession.

I apologize.

You were saying?
I was saying...

that if it's just proof
that this guy, Shooter, wants...

Fine.
I show him the magazine.

But I think maybe
you should be with me

when I show it to him.

No shit,
I'm gonna be with you.

You remember my rate?
Yeah.

An obscene fortune, right?

Look, you'll see
a black Cadillac

in the driveway tonight
when you get home.

Don't freak out, it's me
keeping an eye on things.

Okay.

Get a good night's sleep.
You don't look too hot.

This is not my beautiful house.

This is not my beautiful wife.

Anymore.

Oh!

You scared the shit out of me.
Hey. Hey, I'm sorry about that.

This last week must have
finally caught up with me.

That's very reassuring. Thanks.
Hey, relax, Hemingway.

I was only out 10 minutes,
swear to God.

Already checked the place.
Everything is fine.

Just waiting for you to get back
to let you know.

You think you'll be
sticking around tonight, or...?

No.

Not unless you want me to.

No. No.

No, I'm sure
it's fine in...

In there.

Nope.

No monsters up here.

You check under my bed?

Even in your toy chest.

I'll be back in the morning.
Start asking around town.

What the hell you gonna
do with that, sailor?

Find out who else
saw your nut-job.

Tom Greenleaf.
Huh?

Tom Greenleaf passed by

when I was talking to Shooter
on Lake Drive.

He waved at us, so he must have
gotten a good look at him.

Hmm. Tom Greenleaf.
How do I get ahold of him?

Bowie's store,
breakfast every morning, 9 a.m.

Okay, I got it.
Don't worry.

Once I find out where
this Shooter's staying

I'll stop in for
a little freak-me-out chat.

Use the word "we" a lot.

"We know what you're doing.
We want it to stop.

We're watching you."
Yeah.

Trust me,
he'll hit the road so hard,

it'll hit back.

Yeah.

Hey. You know what? Um...

Are you staying
in town tonight?

Yeah, some motel
out by Route 9.

Uh, Irv's Lakesider,
I think it's called.

You know the place?

Yeah, I know.
Yeah, I know the place.

Okay. Good night.

Hello?

Shit.

I know you're in there,
shithead!

If you don't come out
by the time I count to five,

I'm gonna come in swinging.

One.

Two!

I killed a mirror.

And my shower door.

I don't care.
I'm just gonna smoke.

I'm just gonna totally smoke.

I'll finish these,
go to the store

get a brand-new pack,
smoke the shit out of that one.

Thought you didn't smoke.

I took it up recently
for my health.

How are you, Mr. Rainey?

Oh, I'm just peachy,
Mr. Shooter. How are you?

Well, it sounded like you
pitched a fit

or something in there.

I don't think you're really
all that well.

Stealing from another man,

that don't seem to have
ever bothered you none.

Being caught up on, though...

Or maybe it's just that
successful writers like you

throw tantrums when things
don't go the way they expect.

Why didn't you get
that magazine?

You were down there
at her house today, weren't you?

If I get this story
and I show it to you,

will you then
kindly disappear?

There isn't any magazine with
that story in it, Mr. Rainey.

You and me, we know that.

Okay, then.

What can we do to make you
feel better?

I want you to fix it.

What would you like me to fix?

My ending.

The one you wrecked.

I can't decide
what's worse,

stealing my story
or ruining the ending.

Mine was perfect.

I don't think I even read
your whole story.

Oh, I bet you did.

"I know I can do it,
Todd Downey said,

"helping himself to another ear
of corn from the steaming bowl.

"I'm sure that in time

her death will be a mystery
even to me."

That's how the story ends,
pilgrim.

It's the only ending.

You're going to write it for me
and get it published.

And it's gonna have
my name on it.

I'd be more than happy to write
your ending, Mr. Shooter.

Saw that wife of yours
coming out of the house.

She's purty.
My wife?

Why don't we just
leave her out of this.

Would if I could,

but I'm starting to think

you ain't gonna leave me
that option.

You want to wake up from
one of your stupid naps

and find Amy nailed
to your garbage bin?

Or turn on the radio
some morning

and hear she came off
second-best

in a match with the chain saw
you keep out in the shed?

Do you?

You can't get away with it.

I know what
you did

and I ain't quitting

until right gets put right.

Is that you, John Wayne?

Mort?

Are you there? Mort?

Yes, Amy, I'm here.
Just lower your voice a little.

What is it?
Where have you been?

I have been trying to get ahold
of you

all night and this morning.

I was asleep.

Oh, great, so you unplugged
the phone?

How may I assist you, Amy?

Oh, God, Mort.

What happened? What?

Someone burned down our house.
That's what happened, okay?

What?
Someone burned down our house!

Bye, babe.

Pardon me, miss.

I noticed that you, left $100 on the dresser.
Shut up!

Well, surely the escort service
told you that I was 3.

Shhh. Please.

I mean, some guys are less,
some guys are 100

if you like that
kind of thing.

Some guys are even less
than that, but I'm 3.

I happen to be 3.

There's something
on your mouth just there.

Bye.

Mort!

Hi.
Hi.

I'm really sorry
about all this, Amy.

So am I.

Me too.

Thank you, Ted.

Mr. and Mrs. Rainey?

No.
Yes.

You the owners?

Yes, we are.
We were the owners.

Were the owners?
What do you mean?

You don't own it anymore?

Were Mr. and Mrs. Rainey.
Are the owners.

I'm Steven Bradley,
a detective with Riverdale P.D.

How do you do?
Ted Milner.

This is Fire Chief Wickersham.

Chief.
Hi.

We won't keep you long.

The insurance investigator
needs to see you at 3.

You're definitely
the victims of arson.

The fire was started
by an incendiary device

made with a champagne bottle

and a couple of quarts
of plain old gasoline.

Oh, that really works,
then, eh?

So first question:

Enemies.
You got any?

No. No one.
No, no. Not a soul.

Bother you if I answer
one or two of these, Ted?

It's okay. It's cool.

Yeah.

I have an enemy.

Sorry I wasn't there
to meet you this morning.

I spent most of last night
poking around the site

with a flashlight
and a Polaroid.

Oops. Broke one
of my own rules.

I don't like to call it
"the site."

It wasn't a site,
it was a house.

Your house, and I'm very sorry
for your loss.

Thank you very much...
Mrs. Evans.

It still says "Mrs."
Fran is fine.

These meetings are hard.

People in your situation
are already upset,

and quite often they take
the presence of an investigator

as an accusation that they've
torched their own property.

And in this case,
you've certainly given us

a plausible suspect, who
we'll investigate aggressively

along with the police.

But in the meantime,

that's a list of
your claimed insurable property.

You look it over,
then you'll sign an affidavit

swearing that the listed items
still belong to you

and that they were still in the
house when the fire occurred.

I'm told there was a separation
of residence recently

so that last bit might be
particularly important.

We're going through a divorce.
It's not final yet.

Well, the settlement agreement's
all done.

Everything's been negotiated,

we're just waiting for it
to be signed

by, um, both parties.

I moved out about six months ago

and just hadn't gotten around

to hauling all the stuff out
yet, so...

Been down that road.

Sucks.

These things just have to follow
their natural course.

Things will wrap up when

everybody's ready
for that to happen.

That's been my feeling.

In the meantime, do the best
you can with the list.

Thanks.

I'm sorry. Excuse me. Do you
actually intend to rubberneck?

I hardly think my concern could
be construed as rubbernecking.

Amy, he's rubbernecking.
Okay.

I'm not gonna freak out
about this, but...

What the hell's the point?
This is our stuff.

- It's our stuff.
- No. All right. He's right.

Why are we here?
This is our stuff.

He's right.
He's right, Ted.

He is right, Mr. Milner.

The law says
you have no right

to be looking
at the listed items at all.

We wink at things like this
if nobody minds,

but it looks like
Mr. Rainey does.

Yes.

Mr. Rainey minds a lot.

Uh...

Would it help matters

if I took a walk
around the block?

Yes, thanks.
Sure.

Oh, heck, Ted, live a little.
Make it two.

Rubbernecker.

Mort.

Wait, Mort.
I need to ask you something.

What?
This guy, Shooter. His story.

I mean, is this situation
like the other time?

Oh...
I'm sorry.

I wouldn't bring it up,
but it did happen once before.

Look, that is the only time

I've ever done anything
remotely like that.

I paid the guy everything
he wanted.

Never happened before or since.

Okay.
Okay.

Okay.

Amy.

What?

You and me and the lawyers
are the only people

that know about that, right?
Right.

Because you haven't said
anything to Ted. Certainly not.

No.

Have you said something
to Ted?

Come on!

Well, do I have timing or what?

Yes, you do.

I'm real sorry
you had to miss that.

I know how much
you like my things.

Oh, Jesus.

You and me are gonna have
a little talk.

Be back in 10 minutes.

I'm in trouble.

Look, I've had about enough
of your bullshit.

You're a dick.

Do you feel better?

Yes, I do.

Yeah, look, uh,
marriages end.

I'm sorry,
but I didn't end yours.

All that was done by the time
I got there.

Oh, really?

You must've thought
her wedding ring

was a little bit strange.
Oh, man.

Listen, I apologized
to you months ago.

Now, look. I know
you don't want me in your life.

Guess what? I don't want you
in mine either.

But until this little divorce
thing's done,

not much we can do about it.

But I'll tell you something.

I will not let you upset Amy
any more than you already have.

So why don't we just wrap this
little thing up, all right?

And get out of
each other's lives--?

Are we getting the message
I'm sending?

Where are we from, Teddy?

Uh, Tennessee.

"Morty."

I was gonna say Mississippi.

No. Long way from there.

Little place
called Shooter's Bay.

Come on, Karsch.

Five hundred dollars a day.
Where are you when I need you?

What--?

What fresh hell?

Yeah?

Where you been all day?

Ha, I might ask you
the same question.

Relax, you're fine. I checked
the cabin an hour ago.

Yeah? Well, he showed up an hour
after you left last night.

Oh, really?
Then he had a busy night.

My office called me about
your Riverdale house. I'm sorry.

Well, the worst part is
I hadn't had a chance

to get the magazine out.

The one with the story
he says I stole.

That's gone up in smoke now.

Do you still want to go through
with it?

Meeting him?
Showing him the magazine?

Hell, yes, man.

I've had a shitty year.

I want it settled. Now.
Everything.

Good. Because I called
your agent

when I heard about
the house.

I figured he'd have a copy
of the magazine.

He sent the original
by UPS overnight today.

You can pick it up tomorrow
after 3.

I knew there was a reason
I hired you.

There's something else.

I caught up with
your Tom Greenleaf today.

The guy who drove past you
and Shooter on the lake road.

Well, he's a weird one.

First he says he did go down
to the Lake Drive on Tuesday

and he saw you like you said.

But then he gets nervous
and says:

"No, no, no.
Come to think of it, I didn't.

"Didn't see anybody.

Wasn't even on
Lake Drive on Tuesday."

Yeah, well...

Tom's old.
Maybe just slipped his mind.

Don't be naive.

He was scared shitless.
Somebody got to him.

Come on, wait.

Why would...Shooter care if
Tom Greenleaf knows he's here?

Well, it depends.
On what?

On what he plans to do to you.

I'm revising my opinion, Mort.

I don't think Shooter's
just some nut.

We need to consider
the possibility

that he was hired to do this.

Somebody with a grudge
against you

hires a tough guy
to rattle you,

scare you to death.

But he hires the wrong guy.

Things get out of control.

They go further
than they're supposed to.

Dead dogs,

burnt-down houses.

Now he can't call him off.

Ted.
Who?

Ted. Amy's Ted.

The Ted that Amy left me for.

Maybe that's why the guy
calls himself Shooter.

Ted wants me to know it's him.

He's trying to intimidate me,

he's trying to...
send me a message.

Why? What does he want?

I don't know.

Did you piss him off?

Get the fuck out!

I might have.
Okay, here's what we do.

What proof do you have
that Shooter was there?

Other than the manuscript.

Physical evidence,
I'm talking about.

Bruises.

I got bruises on my arms
from where he grabbed me.

All right.

You and me are gonna go see
Greenleaf together.

All right.

Bring the manuscript.
Bring your bruises.

I'm gonna push the guy hard,

make it impossible for him
to lie.

If he'll tell the police
he was threatened too,

then we've got something.

Bowie's store, breakfast?

9 a.m. sharp.

All right.
I'll see you there.

And bring your six-gun, pilgrim.

It is a good ending.

Oh, shit.

Oh, shit.

Pall Mall.

Cracker bastard.

Sorry.

Ken?

Tom?

Would you like a pack?

I don't smoke.

Did a guy come in here
looking for me around 9:00?

No.

Big guy, kind of
a New York-cop type.

No.
No, that doesn't ring a bell.

I overslept.

Well, maybe he did too,
because he wasn't here.

Yeah.

What are you doing here?

Matter of fact,
I was--

I was just on my way
over to your place.

Where's your buddy?

Came alone.

Sure you did.

I know what you're up to.

Uh...

Look, Mort, uh...

A lot of what's going on
right now is my fault.

Most of it, in fact.

What do you want?

I want you
out of our life.

Gotta sign
your papers, Mort.

My divorce papers?
Mm-hmm.

Tell her to send them
to my lawyer.

Yeah, well, she did.

And he said you won't
return his calls for weeks.

That's what this
is all about?

Getting me to sign
this settlement?

No. Just calm down.
Money!

It's not money.
It's all money.

What this
is about...

is getting
this thing done.

Because I'm afraid
if we don't,

who knows
where it might go.

And I think you know
what I'm talking about.

Well, Teddy, I think I do,
but here's the problem:

I don't respond well
to intimidation.

Makes me feel icky.
You know?

Oh.

You know, I'm attempting to have
a normal conversation here.

I buried my dog, mister.

This whole thing is
out of your control now.

You know it,
and I know it.

You started this shit,
I'm gonna finish it.

Now, do me a favor.

Go back and tell that
to your filthy little friend.

God!

Bummer, Ted.

Yeah?

Go to where
we met the other day.

Walk down the path
a little way.

Why?

I'll catch up with you
this afternoon.

Anybody you call
between now and then

is your responsibility.

Tom?

Greenleaf?

Quarter past 2.

You been out about three hours.

Your leg's sleeping.
You laid on the damn thing.

Now, I would've moved you,
but I didn't wanna wake you.

Got tired of waiting.

Almost pinned a note on you.
Decided not to.

You scare too easy.

I wouldn't go too far
if I were you.

I hooked you to those two men
in more ways than you know.

You're insane.
I'm going to the police.

Whose screwdriver you think
is in that fella's head?

If you leave them here
and I disappear,

you gonna find yourself

standing with your head
in the noose

and your feet
in Crisco.

What do you want from me?

Why, I told you that already,
Mr. Rainey.

I want you to fix my story.
The one you stole.

Or ain't you ready
to admit it yet?

I did not steal your story.

Oh, I expect
you'll let yourself...

go to Greenhaven
for murder

before you'll admit it.

I have the magazine,
you lunatic!

I have the magazine!

I have
the goddamn magazine!

You have this

so-called magazine
right now?

On me, no.

I was gonna go
pick it up at 3:00.

There can't be any magazine.

Not with that story in it.
That story is mine.

What do you want?
You wanna kill me?

Why don't you just do it?
Just kill me.

No, sir.

These others here were gonna get
in the way of our business.

I couldn't have that.

You bring me that story...

if it exists.

Your house in two hours.

You got some heavy lifting
here first.

I'd get to it
if I were you.

By the way,

if you talk to that sheriff
of yours again

or if you don't show up
at 4:00,

I will burn your life
and every person in it

like a cane field
in a high wind.

And when I show you
the magazine

that has my name
on the contents page

with my story inside...

then what?

Then I turn myself in.

But I'd take care of myself
before a trial, Mr. Rainey.

Because if things
turn out that way,

then I suppose
I am crazy.

And that kind of crazy man

has no reason
or excuse to live.

Listen, you got my hat.

I want it,

one way or the other.

Whoa!

Oh!

Hello?

Mort?
Oh.

Yeah, hi.

I've been so worried about you.
Are you okay?

I'm okay.
I'm okay, Amy. Wh--?

Are you sure?

When I saw you yesterday,
you seemed so strained. I mean--

What?

Do you...?

Do you think things would've
been different

if we hadn't lost the baby?

Oh... Jesus Christ,
I don't--

Amy, I don't know.
Look-- Let me call you later.

I-- I gotta go.
I gotta be somewhere.

What? What is it, Amy?

Breathe. Breathe.

Take a breath.

Where are you? You at Ted's?

Yeah.

How we feeling about
old Ted these days?

I don't know.

I love him, I guess.

Oh.

That's good.

I didn't go with other men,
you know.

I always wanted to tell you
that.

I didn't go
with other men.

Only Ted,
and only the last few months

after you and me
were already over.

Well...

if we were over
while we were still together,

you might've mentioned it,
because it was news to me.

That's because
you weren't there anymore.

You were gone all the time.

I worked at home, Amy!

That's not what I mean.

Even when you were with me,
you were gone, up in your head.

I don't think
that I looked in your eyes

and actually saw you
looking back at me.

I mean, really with me,
for the last two years.

You know what, you're right.

You're right.
You're absolutely right.

It's all my fault.
No.

I was a chickenshit.

Ted wanted us to go
and tell you together.

He kept asking,
and I kept putting it off.

I'll never forget that look
on your face.

Get out! Get out!

I gotta go.

Mort, wait. Can't we just--?

No! No.
I-- I've gotta go.

Will you call me if you need me?

I doubt it.

Can I come up there?

Why on earth
would you do that, Amy?

You still haven't signed
the papers yet, Mort.

I know you don't wanna
deal with it.

I don't wanna
deal with it either.

Everything's been negotiated.

We don't disagree on a thing.

I don't understand
why you won't sign.

Don't you wanna
just get it over with?

Unbelievable.

You were worried about me,
and I believed you.

What an idiot.
I am worried.

You sound like you did
six months ago,

and I think it's my fault.

It's my fault,
and I wish I could take it back,

but I can't.

Well, I guess you shouldn't have
fucked him, then!

You're not going up there?

I am not gonna dance around
this anymore.

Once he signs the papers,
it'll be over.

And we won't have to have
these horrible conversations

every other day.

All right,
well, I'm going with you.

I just--

I really think
I should go alone, Ted.

Well, that makes
no sense.

Just the sight of you
is gonna send him.

I was married to the guy
for 10 years,

I know how to talk to him.

All I want is for this
to be over.

Excuse me.

I'll be back around 7.

Ah!

Hey, Mr. Rainey!

I'd like to--
Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Hey. Mr. Rainey.

Mr. Rainey,
are you all right?

I'm sorry,
my throat just kind of

double-clutched on me
there for a second.

You're very pale.

Yeah, thank you.

Did the, um...

UPS guy drop anything off
for me?

Just the one thing.

Pardon me?

Just the one thing, I said.

Oh. Yeah.
Yeah. Thank you.

Welcome.

You know...
The Post Office would have a cow

if they knew we handled
the UPS guy's stuff.

I know that,

and I certainly
appreciate it.

Thank you.
You won't tell them, will you?

No way.
Good.

Because I saw
what you did.

I'm sorry?

I said, they'd shoot me
if you did.

You ought to go home
and lie down, Mr. Rainey.

You really don't
look well at all.

Yeah, that's...

That's a good idea.

Ooh, cute.

Got a minute?

Well... No.

I really don't right now.

But, uh...

I'll give you a call later.

Okay. Sure.

I'm gonna call you
on the phone, okay?

Okay.

Ah!

Nineteen ninety-five.

Contents...

Eighty-three.

Eighty-three.

Eighty-one.

Eighty-two.

Ninety-nine.

Ninety-nine.

You cut it out.

You son of a bitch.

Cut it...

out of the magazine.

Wait a minute.
How would he do that?

I don't know.

But he did it.

Think about it.

How?

I don't know.

Why'd you put it on?

I don't know.

Maybe he wanted you to.

Why would he want me
to put his hat on?

Maybe he wants you to...

Maybe he wants me
to what?

To get confused.

Oh, I'm already confused,
pilgrim.

Plenty confused.

So don't talk to me
about confusion.

Wait a minute now.
Back up just a sec.

What about that?

What about what?

Well, "pilgrim,"
"Shooter's Bay,"

and the half a dozen
other details

you've chosen to ignore.

You know what?
You're nuts.

I don't need to listen
to this shit from you.

Are all these things
coincidences?

I'm wearing his bruises,
aren't I?

Aren't I?!

Are you?

Well...

This doesn't make any sense.

Would you like to hear something
that does make sense?

Call the police.

Call Dave Newsome,

tell him to get down here
right this second

and lock you up

before you can do
any more damage.

I'm gonna get a knife
and cut you out of me.

Before you kill anyone else.

I didn't kill anybody.

You had a gun.

Wasn't loaded.

Really?
No.

You almost killed them.

You wanted to.

The gun was not loaded!

You still want to.
Shut up!

Listen to me,
because this is how it happens.

This is how it happens to people.
Shut up!

There is no John Shooter.

Ra.

There never has been. You invented him.
Ra?

Ra, ra.

Listen to me,
not to him,

before it's too late.

Leave me alone!

You are alone.

You're not handling this.

What you're doing is wrong.
Everything is wrong.

You have no idea
what you're doing.

You've been eating potato chips
this way for 30 years.

What you're doing is wrong.
For 30 years.

Sister found out about
the broken window.

And the school had to be
withdrawn from the competition.

Sister found out about
the broken windows.

Then she got up from the table.

And didn't talk for the rest
of the night.

Todd Downey thought a woman
who would steal your love--

What does Todd Downey got to do
with it? Everything.

I'm starting to believe
Todd Downey was right.

Everything that you're doing
is wrong.

What is happening to me?

Oh, I think you know.

I think you have
a real good idea.

You don't exist.

Me?

I exist,
Mr. Rainey.

I exist because...

you made me.

Check it out.
You thought me up.

I'm a dairy farmer from Mississippi.

Gave me my name.

Told me everything
you wanted me to do.

I did them things
so you wouldn't have to.

Right up there, Tom.
We were standing right there.

Yeah, I know, Mort.
I saw you.

I didn't want to say it in front
of him, but you were alone.

I know, Tom. Look,
just pull over for a second.

I want to show you something.

Didn't have the stomach
to do it yourself,

but you knew I did.

Are we done yet?

We got things all cleaned up
around here?

What's the real reason
I come for?

Fix the story.
That's right.

Fix the ending.

Gotta fix the ending.

And how exactly do you suppose
we ought to do that?

Mort?

Mort?

Are you there?
I saw your car outside.

Hello?

Mort?

Chico?

That explains a lot.

What the hell?

H-Hi.

Jesus, Mort.

W-Where'd you get
that old thing? The attic?

It's mine.

Wasn't ever anybody else's.

Mort, what's wrong?

You got you
a wrong number, missus.

Ain't no Mort here.

Mort's dead.

He did a whole lot
of squirming around

but in the end he couldn't lie
to himself anymore,

let alone to me.

Now, I never put a hand on him,
missus. I swear.

He took the coward's way out.

Why are you talking
this way, Mort?

That's just the way I talk.

You're scaring me.

It don't matter.

You won't be scared long.

Oh, God. Oh, God.

I'm about done fussing with you.

I am so sorry, missus

but right is right
and fair is fair

and something
has got to be done.

By the way,
I want you to know

that none of this
was my idea.

It was Mr. Rainey
all along.

You are Mort Rainey.

I got a place for you.

You are Mort Rainey.

I got it all picked out.

You are Mort Rainey.

Mort.

Mort...

Amy?

Amy?

Ted.

Amy?

Ted! No!

Ted!

No!

"I know I can do it,'
Todd Downey said,

"helping himself to another ear
of corn from the steaming bowl.

"I'm sure that in time,

"her death will be a mystery

even to me."

Hi.

Hi.

I'm, uh...

kind of late.

Hi.

Hi.

Braces.
Yeah.

Getting a few things
straightened out.

Hey, you know,
I--

I was kind of
wondering if, um...

sometime you might possibly
be interested in--?

I don't need a bag.

Mr. Rainey?

Your front door's open.
I'm coming in.

Mr. Rainey?

Mort Rainey?

Oh, hi, Dave.

I didn't hear you.
Come on up.

Glad you're here.
I could use the break.

Working lunch.

I'm on a roll.

Yeah.

Listen, both you and I
know what you did.

Oh.

Maybe we don't have enough
to put you away right now,

but eventually...

we'll find those bodies.

We'll tie you to them

and you're going away.

In the meantime,
I'd appreciate it

if you didn't come
into town anymore.

It makes people uncomfortable.

You can do your shopping
in New London.

Did you hear what I said?

Sure.

No problem.

You know...

the only thing that matters...

is the ending.

It's the most important part
of the story, the ending.

And this one...

is very good.

This one's perfect.

"I know I can do it,'
Todd Downey said,

"helping himself to another ear
of corn from the steaming bowl.

"I'm sure that in time

"every bit of her will be gone.

"And her death will be
a mystery

even to me."

♪ Mama's little baby
Loves shortnin', shortnin' ♪

♪ Mama's little baby
Loves shortnin' bread ♪

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