All language subtitles for Harry O S02E11 - Group Terror

You know, if I wasn't in this wheelchair, I'd ram those words down your throat.

No threats, bump.

Don't hit Harry.

Harry doesn't like pain.

Bring me realities if you're going to spoil my evening.

If she knowingly committed an act of murder once, she might do it again.

Abortion is no longer considered murder in the state of California.

You know, you're a very interesting person.

Thank you very much.

You're not my type, though.

Well, I said the same thing.

You're a very attractive woman.

And I'm not my type.

I'm not my type.

I'm not my type.

I'm not my type.

I'm not my type.

Philis, for somebody who's never coming back, you sure got home early.

What happened?

Philis!

I

hope you don't mind conferring on the run, Mr. Owell.

No, no, it's just that I have a little trouble thinking and sweating at the same time.

Could we slow down?

How's this?

Yeah, it's good.

I expected a lady psychiatrist to be haggard, frazzled and bookish.

Well, I'm sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Owell.

We're not here to discuss your misconceptions.

But what I wanted to talk to you about was murder.

Murder?

Yes, it happened a couple of days ago.

One of my patients, poor Hawkins.

Where?

In the shower.

Why was he killed?

Shot, the police said.

Mr. Owell, I think the murderer is in one of my therapy groups.

Did you tell that to the police?

Well, no, I couldn't.

That would violate my professional ethics.

That's why I called you.

You are bound by similar ethics.

There is a similarity, yes.

I have a certain amount of confidentiality, but I cooperate with the police.

If I have some evidence, I have to take it to them.

But I don't have to take gossip to them.

Well, that's fair enough.

I'd like you to investigate it.

Join my therapy group.

Me?

Yes, assume a role.

Like what?

Well, I don't know.

Anything you're familiar with.

How about beachcombing?

No, you don't look like a beachcomber.

Potential alcoholic?

Aha, that's more like it.

Mr. Owell, have you ever been in a therapy group before?

No, I generally try to avoid groups.

Well, it can be a rather shattering experience.

I'd like you to be prepared.

All right, I'll start to drink.

I should charge you for the session.

Which one of your patients do you suspect?

Well, I have my ideas.

This particular group is really like a tight little family.

It's almost incestuous in some cases.

I don't know, the killer could be any one of them.

I'd like your opinion.

Well, I don't know.

The killer could be any one of them.

I'd like your opinion.

Won't you base your suspicion?

Mr. Owell, my profession is knowing what motivates human beings and why.

Personalities to me are like fingerprints to you.

Only they tell me much more.

Well, how do you know how I feel about fingerprints?

I might be a fingerprint freak.

Well, I certainly hope not.

At least you can find me fingerprints.

All right, I'll be at your therapy session.

7.30 tonight.

You're not in your dress.

I loved him.

I mean it, I really did.

I'm so confused now.

But I know one thing.

I hate you, Phyllis.

Go on, let it out.

Tell us why you hate Phyllis.

No, I can't.

Share your hurt with his faith.

I'm sorry, Phyllis.

Harry, where are you?

I'm in the bathroom.

I'm sorry.

Harry, where are you?

I'm right here.

Emotionally.

Mostly I'm in Tahiti.

I don't like people.

Especially dumb broads who feel sorry for themselves.

Harry, we have some ground rules here.

Give a damn about your ground rules.

And I don't care much for this bunch of cuckoos either.

Well, when you know the group better, Harry, you will care.

I'll probably end up hating everybody like what's-the-name-hates.

What's-the-name?

Well, one of the first things we strive for is mutual understanding.

If you know why...

I don't know why. Tell me why, please.

I'll tell you why, Harry.

Will and Phyllis were sharing an apartment.

And a lot more.

Will didn't want Phyllis to have the baby she was carrying.

Phyllis wanted to have the baby more than she wanted to have Will.

And that makes Faith angry.

And that's the dullest story I ever heard.

That may be.

A lot of fish in the big pond.

Why fret over just one, right, sweetheart?

All right. Anybody else angry?

Me. I am. I'm angry.

You ready to work?

Okay, yeah.

I'm annoyed, actually, at the...

at the implications that Phyllis killed Will.

I mean, Phyllis doesn't even know who the father is.

So why pick on Will?

There are...

plenty of other candidates for that honor in this room.

Don't look at me like that.

I'm not.

I'm not.

I'm not.

You're not angry at the room?

Don't look at me, sweetheart.

Do I detect jealousy in the circle of love?

Rita, who is this guy anyway, huh?

You know, if I wasn't in this wheelchair,

I'd ram those words down your throat.

No threats, Bumper. Out you go.

You feel like punching Harry, tell us why.

Don't hit Harry. Harry doesn't like pain.

All right. All right.

I don't like you, Harry.

Coming into this group and taking the place of a wonderful man like Will.

A man that I learned to love like a brother.

As I love all of you.

As I love all of you here.

Yeah, making jokes about my friend's death.

Would you rather Harry were dead?

Yeah.

Who would want Will dead?

Killing? What do you know about killing, Bum?

I've seen it hundreds of times.

I've done it.

It's easy.

They make it easy for you.

Until the time comes when you have to forget it.

That...

that hurts.

Well, everybody else, it's a pleasure.

To hell.

You ever heard of Korea?

Tri-Vietnam.

Bomb and burn.

Search and destroy.

You Vietnamese crybabies give me a pain and...

I'll tell you something.

Why are you worrying about dying?

Living's hard enough.

All right. Anybody else angry?

Yeah, me. I don't know what I'm doing here.

I'm all right. You people are sick.

Well, think they're all quite normal?

Normal and maladjusted like all of us.

You're right.

Yeah. And like all of us, given the right set of circumstances, capable of murder.

Speaking of circumstances, did Will ever threaten to terminate Phyllis' pregnancy?

Mm-hmm. As a matter of fact, he did.

We had a session where Phyllis confessed she wasn't sure who the real father was.

Hmm.

Will had a fit and said he'd throw her down an elevator shaft.

It's just an idle threat, though.

Bit like an angry child wishing his mother were dead.

Well, yeah, but mothers have been known to kill in defense of their babies.

Well, if you suspect Phyllis, I think you ought to know now.

She has an alibi.

Oh, look, that'll give me something to do. I can check that out for myself.

Phyllis' alibi was an acting teacher named Carl Singleton.

I caught up with him in the dressing room of his workshop theater in Hollywood.

All well-trained classical actors learn to do their own makeup, Mr. Orwell.

Of course, at my age, the part of Shylock no longer presents too much of a problem.

Still, it takes me the better part of two hours.

Our dress rehearsal doesn't start until eight o'clock tonight.

Is Phyllis Grant one of your students?

Yes, she is.

Unhappily not destined for greatness.

But she works hard, and she's a marvelous person.

She was working hard on the night in question, rehearsing from eight o'clock until well past midnight.

How do you know there was a night in question?

I read the newspapers, Mr. Orwell.

You're not a policeman, are you?

No, private detective.

Ah, you never get the part in a movie.

Yes, I know. I'm more the problem drinker type.

Yes.

Why does she continue to act when she's pregnant?

Dedication. She's a pregnant actress.

Well, what would she rather be, an actress or pregnant?

Time to say, Mr. Orwell. Both seem to be dreams of hers.

Yeah, well, she's realized one of them. Thank you.

A private detective named Harry Orwell was here asking some questions.

I had to give him the cast list.

Ah.

Ah, Lieutenant.

Orwell, you wouldn't be bent on questioning the workshop cast, would you?

Oh, no, no, no. I'm just here to get tickets for the next performance.

Of what?

Merchant of Venice.

Why this sudden surge of interest in the classics, Orwell?

It's not for me. It's for a friend.

Who?

I can't tell you that.

You can if you wish to avoid a surfer of legwork.

A surfer of legwork? Well, contemplating the reservoir of information welling up behind these eyes.

It's rushing to be released.

Come on. Who's your client?

Roberts.

Meet him each.

Request? No, she was very uncooperative.

With me, she was a reservoir of information.

There is only one glaring incongruity, Orwell.

Perhaps you can come up with one of your grossly incongruous deductions, Flores.

I'll certainly try.

Phyllis Grant claims the door was locked from the inside.

She claims she had to break the lock in order to get in.

Physical evidence corroborates.

You rule out suicide.

There were small caliber burns on the outside of the shower curtain with the victim most definitely inside the shower.

The water is still running.

He went out the window.

Three stories up.

He was very tall.

That's the incongruity, Orwell.

Perhaps your Miss Beach has some answers.

Well, if she does, you'll be the first to know, Trench.

I am a Jew.

And not a Jew eyes.

And not a Jew hands.

Organs.

Dimensions.

Senses.

Affections.

Passions.

Fed with the same food.

Subject to the same diseases.

Line.

Healed by the same means.

Thank you.

Healed by the same means.

Warmed and cooled by the same winter and summer as a Christian is.

If you prick us, do we not bleed?

Actually, she was gone for a while that night.

She felt sick, had to lie down.

Pregnancy, I guess.

Where did she lie down?

The dressing room.

Her understudy finished the rehearsal for her.

For how long?

An hour, maybe 45 minutes.

Excuse me.

I got a cue coming up.

And it shall go hard.

But I will better the instruction.

Gentlemen, my master Antonio is at home and wishes to speak with you both.

I knew the route from the theater to the murder scene, but I wanted to get a precise timing.

Maybe Phyllis could have gotten there and back in 40 minutes without being detected.

Well, they left this note.

Lay off the investigation.

The next time you won't be able to read the note.

Oh, it only hurts when it doesn't only hurt.

It always hurts.

It hurts all the time.

Harry, what are you thinking?

Thinking that after this charade our prime suspect is Phyllis.

Well, Phyllis has always been my prime suspect.

Psychologically she could kill to protect something of value to her like a baby.

She'd never order some thug to beat you up in an alley.

She just wouldn't do it.

Say, why are you so sure that Phyllis didn't hire this guy to work me over?

Stimulus response.

We are all conditioned by our own unique experiences.

Yes, I know, and it all has to do with Mother.

But this is a felony.

It is not some... some hangover.

It's some... some hangup that inhibits one of the cocktail party.

Harry, everybody reacts in his own peculiar way.

I've observed Phyllis under the whole range of stimulus response patterns.

I just know how she'd act in a given situation.

Look, the prince slays the dragon because he's conditioned to expect a reward for it.

And the reward is the princess.

So what if she knew I was a private investigator investigating her? Would she embrace me, sweetly?

Phyllis wouldn't do anything.

Her father... her father might rough you up.

Did you hire the man, Mr. Grant?

Won't do you a second disservice by denying it.

Why?

Oh, I can't have the Grant name dragged through the mud.

My law firm to consider, too.

How'd you find me?

Carl Singleton. I support his drama school.

Gives Phyllis something constructive to do.

My one concession to her.

Did she know about it?

Of course not.

Why not?

Been frozen out of my family affairs for more than a year now.

Not disowned?

In spirit, not by law.

The Grant name again?

She's promiscuous. Very promiscuous.

I can't have that in this family.

And you have murder in the family?

My emissary's mission was to discourage the terash talk.

I apologize for his zeal, but, uh...

Be discreet, Mr. Orwell.

Word to the wise.

Now, you, uh, suffer any damages?

Not just my pride.

How much you figure that's worth?

Well, I figure you can't afford it.

I did not call for the police.

Well, if the mountain won't come to Mohammed...

What's this Orwell?

Slug of head in the prime of the afternoon.

We're not ill, I hope.

I don't feel first class.

Somebody was hired to beat up on my body.

Who? Who hired him?

That was Grant's father.

You want to press charges?

He already offered me money.

But you refused, of course.

You could have donated it to charity.

Well, one thing at a time, Orwell.

First, you must work your way back to mental health.

What?

Mental health.

If you have to have it explained to you, it's probably beyond reach.

I ran into your Miss Beach.

She tells me you've enrolled in one of her group therapy sessions.

Good move, Orwell.

Enrolled is not the right word.

I am there for professional reasons.

Orwell, I understand. It's me, Trench.

You don't need to apologize for getting...

I am playing a part.

But don't tell me, let me guess.

A defunct middle-aged beach punk.

Oh, not drunk.

Close enough.

You want a beer? I'm practicing.

I'm on duty.

Have some chili. I just made it. It's delicious.

Like I said, I'm on duty.

You want my chili and you don't want any beer,

you must have come...

because of envy.

You're envious of my association with the group therapy session.

You do not want me fraternizing with the suspects while you're out in the cold.

And that is the truth.

What did you find out?

I didn't find out anything.

I was checking out Phyllis's alibi when her father hired that guy to be don.

And?

I found out there was about an hour that she couldn't account for.

I checked it out, I drove the distance and found out she could not have gone home

and gotten back to the theater in an hour.

What about the others?

A bunch of neurotics.

You can see there is an axe murderer, a wife-beater,

a fugitive from a chain gang, there is a cat burglar.

In other words, you're stumped.

What about the cat burglar?

Somebody could have gone out that window.

I don't think so. Hey, listen, you want to find out about the group?

We'll be glad to have you.

I'd like to think Orwell, you'll contact me if anything new comes up.

Day or night?

Orwell, I am a police officer.

I serve 24 hours a day.

How are you feeling now, Phyllis?

Tell us where you're at.

Oh, please, could we please?

We're wasting $25 an hour. I have problems I'd like to work out, too.

I'm sure we all have.

Another boyfriend, Alice?

Why don't you stuff it?

I don't have any problems. I feel fine.

No pain, huh, Harry, honey?

Brita, can we please leave booze out of these sessions?

Yes, definitely, Harry.

All right, I don't need a drink.

I don't need to stir.

What are you looking at me for?

I don't feel sorry for myself like she does.

Self-pity, is that it, Phyllis?

Self-pity?

Or is it Daddy?

Is he behind all this depression?

You're spoiling a good feeling.

See?

You remind me of my old man. He's a tyrannical old son.

Everything was his reputation.

I had to ask for permission to spit.

Everyone said, nice evidence.

Well, I grew up.

Why don't you grow up?

Yes, yes, I showed him.

I showed him, too.

I played around, got pregnant.

I showed him, too, Harry.

But defiance wasn't enough for Phyllis, not for me.

I had to destroy him.

So...

So I committed murder.

Phyllis?

All right, everybody, calm down. Let her finish.

Phyllis, did you murder Will?

Not Will.

The baby.

It's the baby's fault.

Will is dead because of the baby.

So I kill him.

You handle that sort of thing every day.

That's what I thought.

You know, Harry, if you didn't drink so much, you'd be a very attractive man.

This one is for you.

Cheers.

Cheers.

What about for me?

You're a good man.

You're a good man.

You're a good man.

You're a good man.

What about Phyllis?

What about her?

Well, she did not confess to Will's murder.

No, she did not.

However, she might have terminated her pregnancy to relieve herself from the guilt of murdering Will.

But she's still feeling guilty.

I know.

So she might kill again.

Well, if she killed once to relieve the guilt, she might do it again, yes.

Fact and feeling were edging closer together, and I thought it was important enough to notify Lieutenant Trench, but he wasn't home.

The babysitter directed me to the residence of a prominent judge at whose dinner party the lieutenant was in attendance.

Well, far be it for me to spoil a man's appetite, but after all, he did say he was on call 24 hours a day.

And therefore...

Or, well, in the kitchen.

If you'll excuse me, Mrs. Hofer, Judge, ladies and gentlemen, duty calls.

Orwell, what's the matter with you?

Do you know what we were discussing in there?

No.

No, of course you don't.

Otherwise you wouldn't be interrupting, would you?

Never mind, Orwell.

Judge Hofer said to bring him his plate.

I'll take it.

All right, Orwell, what is it that's so urgent?

I believe Phil is grand as your murder.

You know something I don't?

She terminated her pregnancy, an act of murder on her part.

She blamed the baby for Will's death.

That's it? That's irrational, but hardly enough to establish her guilt.

Brita believes that she acted in order to relieve her guilt because of killing Will.

Orwell, you have been too long dwelling in that netherworld of psychology.

Bring me realities if you're going to spoil my evening.

All right, the reality is that if she knowingly committed an act of murder once, she might do it again.

Abortion is no longer considered murder in the state of California.

But in the minds of some it is.

And as Phyllis is mind, it might still be.

Orwell, Phyllis Grant has an alibi.

Phyllis Grant has physical evidence on her side.

Are you suggesting I arrest her on the hunch of a psychiatrist?

I'm suggesting that this may be one case in a thousand where the irrational mind outwits the rational sleuth.

Orwell, you are the sleuth.

I merely a policeman. Good night.

Phone call for you, Lieutenant. You can take it there.

Are you through with your plate?

Thank you.

Trench.

Thank you, Roberts. Very prompt.

Orwell, would you mind dropping me at Phyllis Grant's apartment?

Would you mind dropping me at Phyllis Grant's apartment? She is the owner of a 32 automatic registered two years ago in the state of Connecticut.

Miss Grant?

Want me to call the manager?

Orwell.

It's a maze of garages and alleys. Good for a getaway.

That's a hard way down.

For sure whoever turned off the stereo didn't come out the front door.

Lieutenant, just as you suspected, small caliber wounds on the victim.

You see, that's the lock, the tub, the gun. Precisely the same ammo.

All right, but anybody that got out of here had to jump down into that alley.

Which of Miss Beecher's patients is crazy enough to jump out of a three-story window?

We're lucky enough to survive it.

Or expert enough.

The question is, which member of the group can jump from a third-story window into an asphalt alley?

Well, there's two people that I know of.

Who?

Rusty.

I heard about him. He's from Vietnam.

And Bump.

Bump?

He's a stuntman.

A stuntman? He's confined to a wheelchair.

Yes, but his paralysis is psychosomatic. That's why he's in therapy.

He had a real accident in a make-believe jungle, swinging from an artificial line.

So his paralysis is fake, then?

No, it's very real to him.

I think it covers up for an ego-shattering loss of nerve. He just can't cope with this new thing, fear.

Fear vanishes, so does the paralysis.

Yes, but for the fear to vanish, it has to be overwhelmed by something else.

With anger, jealousy?

Hypothetically, yes.

Well, then he can't get out of the wheelchair.

It's possible.

Well, why don't we find out?

Okay. But not on an empty stomach.

I'm extremely happy to be here tonight.

I feel safe when we're all together.

Even though the police do suspect one of us.

I, for one, don't believe it.

Who does?

You do.

No, I don't. I'm afraid to, Mary.

You know, I feel like maybe Millie was right about it being one of Phyllis's boyfriends.

I have had four dates in the last three days.

Every one of them was jealous of the other.

Makes me feel creepy.

Alice, if you had all the jealous boyfriends you claim to, you'd be in the record books.

Rusty, honey, they aren't boyfriends. They're gentlemen.

Yeah, well, I don't care about being here.

What are you here for, Harry?

I said I'd come by and say a little something before I got out of here.

All right, Harry, make it. Don't hold it in.

Well, only if it's all right with Bumpa.

What are you so hostile about?

I'm not hostile. I just don't care to be here.

You people are hostile toward me because I don't care to be here.

Harry.

Let Harry share his dislikes with us. Why don't you like it here, Harry?

He doesn't like it here because we're gonna take away his pets.

I don't like it here because I don't like breeders' stimulus response conditioning.

You're all conditioned.

What are you talking about?

Yeah, get to the point.

All right, the point is that you're all part of breeders' kennel of Pavlovian dogs. That's the point.

Oh, come on.

Come on.

We have to leave.

See how conditioned you all are?

We're just giving you a chance to work out your problems.

Like Phyllis worked out her problems.

Who made Phyllis feel so guilty?

You conditioned her to believe that guilt was neurotic, that you had to dredge it all out, that you had to get it out.

What did she do to relieve that guilt?

She murdered an unborn child.

You're losing me with your riddles, Harry.

There's no riddle. Breeder is responsible for Phyllis and her kid.

No, Bob, he's right. I do condition my patients.

I manipulated Phyllis to be more assertive, but only because she wanted to.

Yeah, you're here to help us.

Yeah, she did a hell of a job on you. You're still an emotional cripple.

You can't get out of that wheelchair. You can't go back to work because you're a...

No, no, no.

Yes.

Hi. Why is it I am overwhelmed with ambivalence when I see you enter Hallwell?

You are never overwhelmed. Sometimes you're underwhelmed.

If you are snooping for the ballistics report, the answer is yes.

The same gun killed both victims. Now what have you got for me?

Remember that guy, bump horror check? Remember him, the stunt man? He's up and around.

No paralysis? No, no, no.

Seems he has psychosomatic paralysis. It comes and it goes according to the stress.

Oh, well, you're turning into quite a psychiatrist. Perhaps a little self-application would...

Roberts! You've seen this horror check up and around?

I have seen him walk.

What is he a cop to?

We'll ask the question. He's a private investigator, bump.

You lousy plant, huh? We didn't know about this.

Where's your booze, Harry? Or is that your name, huh?

The last time we chatted, bump, you explained to me how you became paralyzed.

What do you want from me anyway?

A more thorough explanation of this mysterious malady that seems to afflict you whenever it's convenient.

And while you're explaining, Sergeant Roberts will have a look around inside, Sergeant.

Hey, now, I don't know what you're thinking. Do you think I can control this illness of mine?

Psychosomatic, huh? Is this your car?

Yeah, sure, it's my car. How often do you have these relapses, bump?

Well, listen, Lieutenant, I'm starting to make my comeback now, and I wouldn't want anybody to find out about this.

Why not?

Well, in case I fail.

Where were you the night Phyllis was killed, bump?

I went to a Brugman Film Festival.

What was the name of the movie, bump?

Well, it was a festival. Listen, I think I could even find the ticket steps for you.

And if not, you could ask the usher. He'll remember me. I was in my wheelchair that night.

We'll go back to the theater, bump. We can check it again.

Lieutenant! Why don't you ask him if he's aware that a 32 automatic killed both Will Harkins and Phyllis Grant.

Where'd you get that?

In the glove compartment.

Maybe you'd better come down to my office. You can hear your rights and make your statement there.

Oh, no you don't. I don't know anything about this, and I'm not going any place with you.

The gun was verified as a murder weapon.

He still hasn't been pestered yet.

No.

Where is he?

He's in confinement in the hospital.

Maybe I should visit him tonight.

No, visit him tomorrow.

Yes, you're right. Let's not dwell on it now.

Let's dwell on you.

No, let's dwell on you. You know you're a very interesting person.

Thank you very much.

You're not my type, though.

Well, I said the same thing. You're a very attractive woman, not my type at all.

Well, that's good. Well, we have no shadowed illusions on our side.

Well, I knew you were an aggressive, career woman type, and that type turns out to be you.

Yes, well, I knew you were a complacent, unsociable chauvinist.

And I don't like salad.

Hmm. Well, except for see-through, I'm a vegetarian. I like crowds.

Well, I like salads, and I like the beach and the ocean.

You're so traditional. No imagination.

No, I depend upon experience, reality.

You, on the other hand, would not know a fact if it were in your salad.

We'll never make it, Harry.

Hmm. Just say when.

When.

Do you want any more wine?

Uh-huh. Not right now.

I'm going to put it back in the fridge for after. Okay?

Okay.

Rita?

Rita?

Just rest now. Mr. Orwell, don't be long.

Well, it wasn't bombed, so I guess that leaves Rusty.

I just can't believe it. Rusty couldn't kill.

Unless provoked. By what?

Nuclear attack or something. Will and Phyllis just weren't that provocative.

Well, in speculation. I need some relevant facts.

All right. The nightmares.

Thanks.

Doctor, don't bother. She's asleep.

What would she tell me if she were awake?

That she's feeling fine.

This is incredible. We've been holding the wrong man while a lunatic is loose.

I don't have time to bleed over somebody's flesh wound. Answer the question.

Hey, Rusty Burns. He's a Vietnam veteran.

He has reoccurring nightmares about bodies in running water. What do you got?

A.38 caliber bullet from Miss Beech's lovely shoulder and the registration on a.38.

Rusty Burns.

The same.

I checked with the Veterans Administration and found out that Rusty Burns had been discharged from the service after three years of combat duty.

With the doctor's recommendation that he receive continued psychiatric treatment.

I also learned that he had had jump training.

I tried Rusty's apartment, but I found at log no one was home, so I approached the manager with a not too long a shot.

Yes.

Hi, I'm Detective Orwell. I was here with Lieutenant.

Oh, yes, yes, yes. To inspect the Burns apartment.

Right, right. May I see it again?

Oh, sure. Just a minute.

Just lock up when you leave, huh? Yeah, thanks.

.38 caliber bullets and birdseed. Jekyll and Hyde.

I remember Breeder telling me about Rusty's habit of feeding pigeons and gripping part.

Well, I went there hoping it was in fact birdseed and not bullets that he was dispensing today.

Rusty.

Hey, Harry. Hard-boiled Harry.

I've never seen you here before.

No, I prefer the beach.

I'm here every day. All day when I'm not working.

My only piece is feeding the birds.

So what brings you to my refuge?

Business.

You a seed salesman?

Private detective.

What does that mean? You're a paid informant, right?

Spying on people? That's a decease. There's no escape in it, is there?

I'll zap you on behalf of the whole group.

I don't do that. Just answer a couple of questions for me. Maybe I can prevent more killing.

Who are you working for?

Where were you last night around midnight?

I was right here.

Right here?

Yeah, it's the only place I can get any peace and quiet.

Anybody see you here?

No, just me.

Not the Parks Patrol, not anything like that.

Just me. Why?

Where's your.38?

It's at home, in the closet.

No, it isn't. Your host is empty.

You're talking in riddles again, Harry.

Listen, last night somebody shot Rita.

Now the police have already searched your room.

And now they're searching for you.

Phew.

Rita, do it.

Did you do it, Rusty?

Oh, man, don't you understand? I can never kill anybody. Not anymore.

Yeah, that's what Rita said.

She's okay? She's alive?

Yeah, she's alright.

Phew.

Rita, she's always right, you know?

Who in therapy last night was so upset that they might have wanted to kill Rita?

We were all.

Dead?

Yeah.

To kill Rita? She was like the mother.

But everybody in therapy hates mothers.

No, it's just Alice. Why Alice?

Well, Alice, you know all those men in her life?

They're non-existent.

She's got a morbid fear of men.

She wants desperately to get over it, but she can't.

She blames it on her mother.

What exactly does she blame on her mother?

Teaching her to hate men. I try to help her, but...

I was kind of hoping we could rehabilitate each other, you know, fantasies.

If Rita is mother, maybe Alice has shifted the blame to her.

I guess so. I don't know.

I can't buy it either.

Of course, whoever killed Will had to jump out of a third-story window.

Instead of narrowing it down to you or bumping.

You don't know much about Alice, do you?

What about her?

She's an expert gymnast, man. She almost made the Olympics.

You know where your 38 was?

I showed it to her, sure.

Trust you, Orwell?

Well, it isn't Rusty. He's in the park feeding pigeons.

It's Alice.

She knew enough details about everyone in the group to throw suspicion on them

without incriminating them.

Very charitable.

Yeah, well, she's run out of charity.

All right. I'll pick her up.

Sir.

Here, darling. I'm looking for Miss Rita Beach.

Dr. Beach?

Yeah.

Checked out about an hour ago. Had a busy schedule, she said.

No, she was with a woman, one of her patients.

What'd she look like?

I heard Dr. Beach call her Alice.

Thank you.

Go on.

How about the water?

The running water in the tub represents life.

It's flowing by you, Alice, so you're left out.

And the bodies?

The bodies in the water are Will and Phyllis.

They're immersed in life, and they're being cleansed.

They're being absolved of all the guilt.

They represent your desires, and you identify with them.

Oh, death wish, death wish.

No, it's not a death wish. It's life.

It's all connected to your own fears, and you can overcome them, Alice,

but you can't do it by blaming me.

Yeah.

But you are to blame.

And Phyllis, for Will, for me.

You said so yourself.

No, Alice, that was all a charade.

Alice, you've had so many years of frustration.

You want more than anything to be a mother.

You want to feel a life inside your own body, as Phyllis did.

But Will threatened her.

And in defense of the baby, you killed Will.

And then she mocked it.

She killed the baby.

And it's your fault, because you didn't help her.

And you failed to cure this fear of mine.

Alice, please, listen to me.

Alice, you're so close.

You're so close to overcoming your fear of men.

How?

Look, your subconscious has already transferred your emotional attachment from your mother to me.

That's the beginning of a conscious solution.

I'm tired of your jargon.

Please, Alice, just give me some time.

Give me some time. I can help you.

Time's up, Doctor.

Oh, God.

Rita.

Rita.

The Sleeper

The Sleeper. Those dark glasses.

I was thinking about how Alice...

All of us waste so much time hiding the truth from ourselves.

That's why we need psychiatrists.

And private investigators.

Yeah, I guess we're both in the same business here, I guess.

I guess so.

It's so nice here.

You and your boat.

Yes, I know, but in a couple of days you'll want to give up the surf and go back to the crowd, isn't that it?

Hmm.

After a few days.

Hello.

Oh, Lieutenant.

Trance, yes.

Could you hold on a minute?

Yes, no, I'm in therapy, Lieutenant.

I'm sorry.

The Sleeper