All language subtitles for The Evil Eye (1963)

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THE GIRL WHO KNEW TOO MUCH

This is the story of a vacation.

A vacation in Rome,
the dream destination

of any American
between the age of 16 and 70.

Nora Davis was 20 years old.

Young, full of life, romantic -

she satisfied her desire
to escape reality

by reading murder mysteries.

But this would be the last one.

She had sworn as much
to her mother.

And Mrs. Ethel, the old family friend
with whom she would be staying,

was going to make sure
she kept her promise.

Excuse me.

May I offer you a cigarette?

Thank you. I have my own.

- Where did I put them?
- Please, have one of mine.

All right. You're very kind.

You can take them all.
I have another pack.

I insist.

Thank you.

- Miss...
- Please fasten your seatbelts.

We are about to land
at Fiumicino Airport.

Attention, please.

Flight 208 from New York
has just landed.

If you'd like some advice...

it's better for a woman
not to go out alone in Rome.

- You're coming with us, Pacini.
- How dare you!

- My name is De Vico.
- So that's what you're going by now?

Please. All I have in there
are toiletry articles.

Toiletry articles? You must use
cocaine instead of talcum powder.

There's enough here to intoxicate
half of Rome's high society.

These aren't Kents. These cigarettes
are laced with marijuana.

- Come on, let's take him away.
- I assure you, this is a mistake.

- Come on.
- Come with us.

Please have your carry-on luggage
ready for the customs inspection.

Miss?

You dropped these.

Thank you.

Hello, I'm looking for
Mrs. Ethel Widnall Bartocci.

- Miss Davis?
- Yes.

Please, come in.

Forgive me.
Did I hurt you?

No, it's nothing.

I'm very happy you've come.

What awful weather.

Allow me to introduce myself:
Marcello Bassi.

I'm the doctor.

- The doctor?
- Yes.

Mrs. Widnall is not very well.

Try not to look frightened.

We don't want her to get worried.

You have a surprise visitor.

Nora, finally you're here.
I was starting to get worried.

Come here, dear.
I was so anxious to see you.

- Ethel.
- You're a young lady now.

How was your trip? No, don't kiss me,
I have a bit of a cold.

In a few days I'll be able
to get up.

And we'll go out together.
You'll see, Rome is wonderful.

This young man is the culprit
who wants to keep me in bed.

That's because he would like
to be your chaperone.

He knew you were coming,
and he was just as anxious as I.

You have the blessing of youth.
Unfortunately...

I try to be strong,
but you know how it is at my age.

Now that you're here,
I'll get better. You'll see.

I don't want to frighten you,
but I'm very worried.

Try to keep her calm.
Her heart rate is very high.

I have to go now.

By the way...

there's a cardiotonic by her bed.
Give it to her if necessary.

If she shows symptoms of apnea...
has trouble breathing, I mean...

or if she's in pain,
call me right away.

I'll be at the hospital.
Here's my number.

It's not far from here.

Go down the steps from
Trinit� dei Monti and turn right.

But that won't be necessary,
will it?

Let's hope not.

Everything will be fine.

But feel free to call me,
even if you're just worried.

Good night.

Nora!

- My drops!
- Oh, my God!

Ethel!

Hello.

Hello?

- St. James Hospital.
- Hello?

- Hello?
- Hello!

I can't hear you. Hello!

Help!

Let me go. Let me go!

Miss!

Speak. What happened to you?

Looks like she's drunk.

And she's naked
under her raincoat.

Don't kill me!
I didn't see anything.

I won't say a word.

Let me go!

Help me! Save me!

Calm down
and tell me what happened.

Don't you see it over there?

Blood. Blood everywhere!

What blood? That's just water.

Help me, I beg you!

Am I in heaven?

- No, you just woke up.
- Don't move. You need to rest.

You're in the hospital, miss,
and everything is fine.

In the hospital?
So I was wounded too.

Call the police.
A woman was murdered!

You don't even have a scratch.

We know about the murder.
You talked while you were delirious.

Try to stay calm.

Good morning, miss.
Are you feeling better?

This is Dr. Facchetti.

Doctor, have you examined me?
When can I go home?

I'm not a doctor.
I investigate murders.

I am a police detective.

I can tell you everything
you need to know.

There was a man with a big knife,
and he stabbed her...

Yes, but have you considered
that you may have dreamt the murder?

Or perhaps imagined it.

Why won't you believe me?
I'm telling you the truth!

All right.
Let's change the subject.

Do you read murder mysteries?

Murder mysteries?
Are you implying...

- Just answer the question.
- Yes, but...

For your own good, miss,
take my advice and don't read any more.

It's very dangerous reading.

Goodnight, miss.

And enjoy your stay in Rome.

Here is a fascinating case
of neurosis.

Mythomania caused
by a form of alcoholism.

The patient has lost
all sense of place and time.

What? What are you saying?

Alcoholic? I swear I've never
drunk in my life, Doctor.

And she's not aware of it.

So young, yet already
the victim of delusions...

usually found in acute cases
of alcoholism.

- I'm sorry I'm late, Professor.
- Dr. Bassi!

Please explain that I am
neither crazy nor an alcoholic.

Get me out of here,
or I'll make a scene!

Just look around you.

Does this look like the kind of place
where women get stabbed?

Come, this is the real Rome.

Where the sun shines bright
and the air is clear.

A dream, perhaps.
A nightmare, never.

The police found nothing.

What happened to you
is easily explained.

You were tired from the trip,
shocked by poor Mrs. Ethel's death.

Add to that the fright
of being attacked and mugged.

It's to be expected
that you should have a breakdown.

But now you must forget
all about it.

Listen, Doctor,
I'm not saying you're wrong.

Maybe I did have a breakdown.

But I certainly wasn't drunk.
I never drink, believe me.

I won't deny that
I was overwrought.

Mrs. Widnall's death,
the mugging...

the blow on the head
when I fell...

- All that was real, wasn't it?
- Yes.

So tell me why I should have started
seeing imaginary murders.

A consequence of the blow
on the head.

- You mean I've gone crazy?
- I wouldn't dare say that.

Listen, I never dream,
and I'm famous for being hardheaded.

I can reconstruct the entire scene,
exactly as it took place.

Chin up. Hold still.

Yes. It was right here.

- That's where he hit me.
- The killer?

No, the man who took my purse.

When I came to,
I heard someone screaming.

And I saw that woman
with the knife, on the ground.

- Wasn't that a man?
- No, the victim!

She was groaning, screaming...

and staring at me wild-eyed.

What about the knife?

It was here, not here.

She was bleeding.
There was blood all over.

Here on the ground,
there was a huge puddle of it.

Then... then a man appeared.

He was tall, very tall...

- The killer.
- Yes.

He drew closer.

Then he took the knife and...

Run along.

Stop it. Behave yourself.

Wait a minute. Wait for me!

These are the kind of crimes
you'll see in Rome.

Can I help you?

No, I thought...

But now I see...

Pardon me.

I'm sorry, but after that awful night
in the Piazza di Spagna,

I just can't control myself.

Of course, miss.
I understand.

I can imagine
what you've been through.

You see, it's been a long chain
of frightful events.

Real or imaginary, it matters little.

The man who mugged me.

The woman with the knife
in her back...

You must try to forget.

Yes, everyone says
I imagined the whole thing.

And perhaps in a few days I'll be able
to go by Trinit� dei Monti,

and think nothing of it.

And I will have forgotten
all about the murdered woman.

Poor Ethel!

Who would have thought...

Dear God!

Pardon me, miss.
May I have a word with you?

I heard you speaking of poor Ethel.

She was such a dear woman.

A true friend to me, you know?

I'm sure she would have
introduced us...

if she hadn't passed away
so suddenly.

My name is Laura Craven Torrani.

Please, don't think me too forward,
but are you alone here in Rome?

If I can help you in any way...

please look me up.

Thank you.

But... haven't we already met...

My dear madam,
I'm glad you two have met.

Miss Davis needs friends
who are closer to her in age.

I'll rest easier
knowing she can count on you.

Where are my keys?
I can never find them.

You see, it happened right here.

How could that be? We were at home,
and we didn't hear a thing.

My nephew was ill, and we were
housebound for an entire week.

After you.

What you told me is terrible.
You must try to forget all about it.

Well, this is my house.

My husband is Italian, but he works
in Switzerland and is almost never here.

I must confess I get very lonely.

Of course, I go and visit him
in Bern...

but life is so boring there.

As you can see,
our house isn't very big.

It used to be a sculptor's studio.

We love it, but, unfortunately...

we get to enjoy it very little.

It's very beautiful.

You're lucky to have
such a lovely house.

It must be a dream to live in.

Wait a minute.

I'm going to Bern tomorrow,
and the house will be empty.

Why don't you come and stay here?

I couldn't possibly. No...

But of course! Why not?

See, the maid is so careless.

And when there's no one here,
it's even worse. It makes me furious.

You would be doing me a favor.

But my mother...

Now, now, we'll call her right away.

Listen, Mother, I want to prove
that I didn't make it all up.

Yes, all right.

You'll see.
I'll find out the whole truth.

All right, Mom. I'll be careful.

Okay.

Say hello to the States for me.

Yes, of course I'll write.

Give Dad a kiss for me.

- Did Mom say it's all right?
- Yes.

And now we'll have
a nice cup of tea.

Then we'll get you settled
before my nephews get back.

Don't worry. They're going
to Switzerland with me.

- Have a seat.
- Thank you.

By the way...

when my husband's not here,
I always sleep in this bed.

I think it's delightful. Don't you?

It's like being in a painting.

The doorkeeper comes in to clean.

- So you needn't worry about a thing.
- Very well.

Oh, and one other thing.
Come with me.

This is my husband's study.

He has the only key. That's one less
responsibility for you, right?

That's all.

Hello? Is anyone home?
Madam?

Who is it?
What do you want?

I'm sorry. I rang, but no one answered,
so I let myself in.

I'm the doorkeeper.
I'm sorry I frightened you.

Please, think nothing of it.

It's my fault
for not hearing the bell.

I came to tell you that a man
brought this form for you.

He said you have to write
your first and last name on it.

He said he was a police officer.

But since I don't trust
the likes of them, I came right up.

There's no hurry.
It can wait until tomorrow.

It'll take just a minute.

Then we can make arrangements
for the cleaning schedule.

You can count on me, miss.

I'm so glad you're staying here.

The house is always locked up.

We haven't seen Mr. Torrani in years.

And Mrs. Laura can't bear to be here,
since the tragedy.

- What tragedy?
- It was terrible.

Even now, if I think about it
I get goose bumps all over.

- What happened? Tell me.
- You mean you don't know?

It was in all the papers.

Of course, you weren't in Italy then.

It's been at least ten years...

but I still remember that night
as if it were yesterday.

Mrs. Laura's sister
was stabbed to death, poor thing.

And to think it happened
right in front of this house.

So there really had been a murder
in front of that house,

but ten years earlier.

It was absurd.

Nora had seen something,
she was sure of it; But what?

Could a new crime have been committed
under the exact same circumstances?

Perhaps the doorkeeper was wrong,
or maybe she had lied.

Or perhaps...

"Third Murder
In The Piazza Di Spagna"

"Third murder
in the Piazza Di Spagna.

The wealthy American heiress,
Emily Craven,

was found murdered,
stabbed in the back like the others.

The killer's victims
have all been young women

and he seems to be following
an alphabetical order.

Our reporter, Andrea Landini,
was at the scene of the crime.

The first victim's last name
began with "A"... Gina Abbart.

The second with "B"...
Maria Beccati.

Now we're up to the letter "C"...
Emily Craven.

No one ever took seriously
the anonymous phone calls,

which preceded each of the crimes.

- Hello.
- Who is this?

- Nora Davis.
- "Davis" with a "D"?

"D"as in "death"?

I understand that, in light
of your discoveries, you're worried.

But believe me, there's no reason
to be alarmed.

I've studied cases
of telepathic visions.

Modern medicine takes an interest
in such phenomena...

and there are charts
and statistics that describe them.

And what does modern medicine
have to say about ectoplasms?

No, it's nothing to laugh about.

It's a pertinent question
in her case.

A very significant case,
I might add...

on which I'm writing a paper for
the next issue of "Science and Life".

Already at the hospital
I was very much intrigued.

And I didn't even know that
the crime had really taken place...

as you have just told me.

This young lady lived through an event
which took place ten years ago -

the Craven murder.

It's an unusual, but not impossible,
occurrence...

although I'd place it more
in the realm of meta-psychics...

than in that of rational medicine.

In our case it would be incorrect...

to speak in terms of ectoplasms
or hallucinations.

It has nothing to do
with hallucinations.

I think we should consider
this phenomenon...

in terms of psychic travel.

Even psychics need to eat.
It's getting cold.

So you mean to say, Professor...

that Nora truly witnessed
a crime...

that was committed ten years ago?

No, no. Don't misunderstand me.

I wouldn't go quite that far.

What I do believe is that...

Nora had told no one
about the phone call.

It was useless for them
to try and comfort her.

Only the truth, at this point,
could restore her sleep.

And she had to look
for that truth alone,

even at the risk of her life.

Alone -

this was a perfect chance
for the killer.

She felt that everything
conspired against her.

Everyone had abandoned her.

An idea -

a single idea
with which to protect herself.

She appealed to her old friends,
her murder mysteries.

She appealed to Wallace,
to Mickey Spillane, to Agatha Christie.

Talcum powder!

That's right! Talcum powder.

White talcum powder
is insidiously slippery,

especially if your legs
are trapped

in a tenacious tangle of string.

Yes, perhaps a bit na�ve,

but, for this very reason,
unpredictable.

Killers never read murder mysteries,
fortunately.

And Ariadne's Terrible String...

the novel that was her inspiration,
had just been published in Philadelphia.

It couldn't have been translated
into Italian yet.

Who is that screaming?

Who are you?
Is this a trap?

What are you talking about?

Let me by. Let me by!

Nora felt responsible
for that broken finger.

Not even the beauty of Rome, which
the doctor never tired of showing her,

could dispel Nora's doubts.

Even if outwardly she played the part
of the perfect American tourist,

her subconscious was working.

What a day!

I swear that I'm so confused now,
I couldn't tell the difference...

between the Coliseum
and the Via Veneto.

Since you're busy tomorrow,
I'll visit the museums.

- I'll see the Capitolino...
- It's full of beautiful things.

- And then maybe...
- Very interesting, but...

should you be going out alone?

Don't worry. What could possibly
happen to me?

Believe me, Marcello...

I'm through with criminology
and murders.

Now all I want is to be a tourist
and see the sights.

So you can relax.
If you should pay me a visit...

you won't risk tripping
over one of my string traps.

- But I...
- I promise. Never again.

You seem so helpless,
and you're so alone...

that I feel obliged to...

As you can see,
I'm not as alone as you think.

Excuse me, but I must go in
and answer the phone.

Good night.

Good night.

"Good night."

- What do I owe you?
- Five hundred lire.

- Here.
- Thank you.

Come in.

Don't be afraid.
Please, come in.

You must reach the end
of the corridor.

Forgive me if I don't come
to meet you,

but I'm afraid I can't walk.

Keep walking.

I hope no one followed you,
as I warned you:

One must be cautious -

very cautious.

Especially if one has seen
too much

and one's name begins with a "D".

Let me go! Let me go!

- Marcello!
- Have you lost your mind?

Marcello, we must leave!
There's somebody in there.

But what on earth
are you doing here?

I got a phone call,
and they said:

"What you saw was not an illusion.
Meet me and I'll tell you the truth."

Here we go again!

Careful!

So, there was a man here, huh?

Where is he?

He was here. He spoke to me.
You don't believe me, do you?

I didn't say that.

What's that?

Look.

This may prove you right.

Keep walking.

I hope no one followed you,
as I warned you:

One must be cautious -

very cautious.

Especially if one has seen
too much

and one's name begins with a "D".

Finally we have some proof.

So now you believe me.

But if I'd run away, everyone
would have said I'd made it all up.

The sign on the door tells us
who the owner of the apartment is.

It's a man who's staying
at the hotel La Stelletta

and whose name is Landini.

What? Landini?

It sounds familiar.
I've read it somewhere.

Maybe in the paper.

That's right, the clippings
about the murders. I'm sure of it.

Come on, I'll show you.

They're gone.

Someone must have come in.
Let's call the police.

Wait, Nora. Calm down.
Think for a minute.

- Is there a cleaning lady?
- Yes, the doorkeeper.

- And does she have the key?
- Yes.

She could have thrown them out.
We can't call the police for that.

Maybe you're right.

- What time is it?
- 5:20.

Let's wait until daylight.

Then we'll go talk to this Landini
at his hotel.

Let's go solve the mystery.

Mr. Landini, please.

It's 2,000 lire in advance
for the room, and please...

leave it the way you found it.

How dare you!

Pardon me, there's been
a misunderstanding.

We're just here to speak
with Mr. Landini.

It did seem a little strange
at 7:00 in the morning.

It is an unusual hour
for a rendezvous.

Speak up.
Is this Mr. Landini here or not?

Dr. Landini is almost never here.

And when he does come in,
it's always at night.

But you might find him
at the printer's on Via Jenner.

We're looking for Mr. Landini.

Could you tell...

Could you tell us where to find him?

He doesn't come here anymore.
But if you have some galleys...

We haven't got any galleys.

- We need to see him.
- We want to speak to him.

What a loudmouth.

Try the Trattoria del Gallo.
It's right around the corner.

You might find him there,
if they still give him credit.

He left a few minutes ago.
I'm sorry.

If I heard him correctly,
he was planning on going to Ostia.

There's a waiter there, Accursio,
who owes him some money.

I confess I feel a little guilty.

We never found Landini.

And you wasted a whole day
for nothing.

That's all right. Forget it.

You must be tired.

I'll sleep tonight.

I'm doing the night watch
with a man who has insomnia.

What is it?

- Why are you looking at me like that?
- Haven't you figured it out?

Help! Marcello, no!

It's time to get it over with.

Please, don't!

Let me catch my breath.

Let's go inside.
Let me stay a while longer.

It's late, and you should be
at the hospital.

- We'll see each other tomorrow.
- Nora, don't send me away.

Don't look so disappointed.

When the time comes, you'll know it
by the sound of my voice.

By the way I say your name.

Go now.

Please.

There's a man in the house!

Stay right where you are.

Nora, call the police.

I'm Andrea Landini.

I know you were looking for me.

I know that my entrance
is rather melodramatic...

but it wasn't my intention.

I rang several times,
but nobody answered.

Then I saw there was
a light on inside.

But I didn't leave it on
when I left.

Nonetheless, it was on.

I put my hand on the doorknob,
and the door opened.

I thought there was
something wrong, so I came in.

You came in soon after.

I don't have the keys
to this house.

The doors and windows
haven't been broken into.

He's right. It's perfectly clear.

Someone has been coming in here.
I'm sure of it.

Who else could have stolen
the clippings?

And this someone is involved
in the "alphabet murders".

The "alphabet murders"...
that's why I'm here.

We need to have a long talk.

What do you mean?
Tell us what you know.

It's quite simple.
Ten years ago...

I was a rather influential
newspaper reporter here in Rome.

My professional duty obliged me
to report on the first murder.

It was a woman, a foreigner.

The article was just a few lines
in the local news.

The murder had been preceded
by an anonymous phone call.

The second murder took place
two weeks later,

and was identical to the first.

The killer would certainly
strike again.

He had to be found.

The killer was able
to make himself invisible.

He didn't leave even a trace.

I embarked on a kind of race
with the police to discover the truth.

I understand perfectly.

Sorry.

I was convinced that the killer
was a pervert...

and I argued this theory
in many articles...

always accusing the police
of incompetence.

Until, one night, Emily Craven
was murdered.

They found her right outside,
with a knife in her back.

She lived in this house
with her sister, Laura -

the woman who invited you
to stay here.

During my investigation
of that murder,

I met Professor Torrani,
Laura's husband,

a renowned psychiatrist.

We became good friends.

He agreed with my theory
that the killer was a madman.

He encouraged me to keep on.

And the police arrested
the killer.

Torrani himself had pointed out
a homeless man to me.

A very suspicious-looking
psychopath.

They called him Straccianeve.

I myself tracked him down
and led the police to him.

There was no hard proof
against him,

but lots of circumstantial evidence.

He even confessed, under pressure.

But when he got to court,
he denied everything.

They found him guilty and locked him up
in an asylum for the criminally insane.

He was mentally ill, you see.

It was a triumph for me
and Professor Torrani.

I didn't do it! I'm innocent!

I didn't do it! I didn't do it!

Those cries kept ringing in my ears.

The trial had a strange effect on me.

I was less and less sure
that Straccianeve was guilty.

I kept rereading the sentence.

I even studied my own articles.

Finally, I became convinced
that Straccianeve was innocent.

I tried to talk to Torrani,
but he wouldn't listen.

I started writing about it again.

I tried to arouse the press.

But the story was getting old,
and everyone had lost interest.

I became too insistent.

Finally, one day I lost my job.

After such a long struggle,
I found myself alone.

But I couldn't forget.

I kept coming back here, deluding myself
that I might find some clue...

some trace.

Until one morning I found you
unconscious, right outside.

I was trying to revive you
when I heard a policeman approaching.

I didn't want him to find me there

with you lying on the ground,
unconscious.

So I hid, not far away.

When you no longer have a job,
and you've let yourself go a little,

it's easy to get into trouble.

So I heard you say that
you'd witnessed the murder of a woman

right in front of this house.

At first glance, it might seem
to have nothing to do

with the "alphabet murders".

But I knew right away
that there was a connection.

I've followed you ever since.
I had to know, to speak to you.

If you really did witness
a murder...

you're perhaps the only person
who can help me.

- To find the killer?
- Of course. That's what I want.

Let's put an end to this farce.

Don't you realize that
all the evidence points to you?

You want Nora to help you.

But you're forgetting
that her life was threatened...

and it happened in an apartment
that belongs to you.

If you didn't threaten her,
you know who did.

And you gave them the keys.

Do you want her to risk her life
just to resolve your doubts?

Marcello, we might as well go ahead
and tell him what we know.

There's something
I want you to hear.

It's gone! The tape recorder is gone!

Last night I wasn't able
to convince you.

But you must help me.

You may think it strange
for me to be so insistent.

But you can't imagine what it's like
to spend ten years...

tortured by doubt...

by the guilt of having caused
an innocent man to be sentenced to life.

This is Straccianeve.

Tell me, do you recognize him?

Did you see him?

Try to remember.

- I can't, I can't!
- Stop it, do you hear me?

You solve your own problems
and leave her alone.

Maybe if you saw him in person...

if you met him...

maybe it would be different.

It's not easy to get out of here.

You know when you come in,
but you can't know when you'll get out.

Most people leave feet-forward.

Sure, I remember him.

He was very quiet.
He seemed perfectly normal.

Let's see, he should be here.
58, 59...

Here he is. Deceased May 23, 1959.

Cause of death:
coronary thrombosis.

Well, if Straccianeve is dead,
there's nothing more we can do.

He got off too easily,
if you ask me.

With those three women
on his conscience...

it's a wonder he could sleep
at night, don't you think?

Well, thank you for your time.

Don't mention it.

Nora, I'm sorry.
I have to run.

I'm expected at the hospital
in ten minutes.

- I have to go.
- Just a minute.

Do you know whether
he had any relatives?

He had a daughter, Maria.
She came for the funeral.

Do you know her address?

It's got to be here somewhere.

Here it is. She works at the cleaner's
in the Foro Italico.

Yes, she did work here,
but she was such a louse.

She was always putting on airs.

But she never had a penny.
She was always asking for money.

- Then all of a sudden she got rich.
- When?

- Do you remember when?
- A couple of years ago.

All of a sudden, she bought a fur coat
and leased a Fiat 500.

She rubbed our noses in her wealth,
and said she was through with washing.

Did she never confide in you?

She never said much more
than hello and good-bye.

So how do you think she got rich?

My dear girl...

when I was 20 years old,
I could have gotten rich that way too.

Every night, working overtime.

If you catch my drift.

We're sorry if we inconvenienced you.

Where can I find a telephone?

- There's one at the entrance.
- Thank you.

I don't think we'll find out
much more here.

So what should we do?

I have an idea,
but I'd better go alone.

You'll want to go home,
I imagine.

The bus stop is down there.

Good-bye.

Yes, he did come,
but he didn't tell me anything.

- Why did he come back?
- Leave me alone.

Besides, it's none of my business.

I didn't see anyone,
and I don't know anything.

And now I have work to do.

No, no news.

How about you? What did you
find out from that woman?

When?

When you went back
and spoke to her alone.

So you saw me, then.

Yes, from a distance, of course.

And when I went back,
you were gone.

And that woman had become
so strange and hostile.

Hello. Hello?

Landini? Hello?
Do you hear me?

Yes, I hear you.

In fact, I'm calling you to tell you
that it's all clear to me now.

That woman really opened my eyes.

Come to my hotel in an hour
and I'll tell you everything.

All right, I'll be there.

- Mr. Landini, please.
- Yes, of course.

He told me to expect you.

He's been at his typewriter
for over an hour.

It's on the second floor.
Room 26.

May I come in?

"To save myself,
I would have to kill again.

Too many crimes.

I don't have the strength
to commit any more... "

"First Murder"

"Second Murder"

"Third Murder"

"D? - Fourth Murder?"

When my husband gave me the news,
I nearly fainted.

Poor dear!

How frightening.

It must have been awful for you.

But now you must forget.

I came right back to Rome
when you called to say you were leaving.

Marcello will visit you in America.
You'll see.

I still can't believe it.

Why did he kill himself? Why?

You read his confession, didn't you?

He must have realized
that sooner or later...

you would have found him out.

Besides, I think he wasn't
completely sane.

But let's change the subject.

Nora must forget all this.

I brought you the newspapers
you wanted.

Thank you.

Listen, from now on
you must think only of me...

of our future...

and of loving me very much.

Don't kid yourself...
you'll never be rid of me again.

Your husband is also coming back
tonight, isn't he?

Yes, at 10:30.
I'm picking him up at the station.

And before Nora leaves,
we'll all have lunch together.

All right.

I'll walk you to the door, Doctor.

I'll call you later.

"Murder Victim Found
Stabbed In The Back"

It was her.
Nora recognized her.

It was the girl she had seen
murdered in the Piazza di Spagna.

She's been identified.
She's Straccianeve's daughter.

Do you recognize her?

Is this the woman you saw murdered
at Trinit� dei Monti?

Yes.

Are you absolutely sure?

Do you still think I'm delusional?

Or that I'm crazy?

Come with me please, miss.
I need your help a while longer.

If only this button could speak.

Look at it closely.

The dead woman was clutching it
in her hand.

As if she had ripped it
off someone's jacket.

- Well? Have you ever seen it?
- I...

No.

I don't think so.

Too bad.

If you should remember anything...

please contact us right away.

And, please, don't start investigating
on your own again.

That's our job, miss.

De Maria.

Good-bye.

- Thank you for coming
- You're welcome.

Good-bye.

I knew it.
She took the button.

She felt her hands burning.

Her fingers clutched the button.

She was sure she had seen it before.

She just had to take it.

She was willing to pay any price
to find out the truth.

Just a minute.

Of course!

What an idiot
not to have thought of it before!

The woolen sweater,
on her first day in this house.

She felt as if a sinister light
were beginning to dawn inside her.

She had to hurry.
She had only a few minutes left.

But where?
Where should she look?

There... that door.

The threatening door
with its invisible hinges.

The door that was forever locked.

She must open it.

She felt that the solution
to the mystery lay behind it.

The solution to all her anguish
and fears.

She had to open it.

She had to find the courage
to walk through the threshold.

Hello.

- Hello? Is this the hospital?
- Yes, it is.

Please connect me with Dr. Bassi.
It's urgent.

I'm sorry, he's in the operating room.
May I take a message?

No, thank you.
I'll call back later.

Run!

Open the door! Open the door!

Help! Help me!

Laura!

Yes.

There's a button missing,
isn't there?

I can't believe it.

So you're afraid of me too?

But why?

Don't you see I had to do it?

You.

It was you.

No. It's not true.

It's not true!

But it is...

and no one found out
until now.

The papers wrote all sorts
of nonsense.

All sorts of things:
good, bad, interesting.

I kept the clippings, you know.

And the pictures of the girls too.

Would you like to see them?

Come on. Come with me.

You won't go away, will you?

I've kept everything, you know?

Look. Look!

See? I clipped every bit of news
I found on my victims.

Look here.

This was the first one.

She was pretty.

Poor thing.

She hadn't done me any harm...

but I had no other choice.

Her name began with an "A."

You understand, don't you?

Look, look!

It was a brilliant idea...

to use the letters
of the alphabet.

"A, B, C."

You're horrified too.

You're looking at me
just like my sister used to.

That look.

I made her suffer a long time
before I killed her.

That's her.
Look at her picture.

You can tell she was a monster.
Look at those evil eyes!

Look at her! She was always after me,
always!

She wanted people to think
I was crazy.

She would have inherited
my father's money.

All of it. She was so greedy.

I knew exactly
what she had in mind.

You understand?

So I was forced to...

Remember that night
in Landini's apartment?

This is the voice
that frightened you so badly.

But...

unfortunately it was of no use.

You're like all the others.

Like Landini.
I had to kill him.

And Straccianeve's daughter.
She wouldn't keep quiet.

She tried to blackmail me, so...

What you saw that night
wasn't a dream, Nora.

You really did see my husband...

while he dragged her on the steps.

He was so afraid. The coward!

Come, Nora. Come.

Look at him there.

I never want to see him again,
damn him.

I had to put up with him for years.

He was always afraid somebody
might find out about...

He wanted to have me locked up
in a hospital.

Just an excuse...

to get his hands on my money.

Listen to me, please.

You've always been so good to me.

Perhaps I could help you now.

Listen, I know you had to do it.

You're not evil.

I understand you.

I have nothing against you.

Please, believe me.

I never meant to hurt you, Laura.

I only wanted to discover
the truth.

I swear...

I won't say a word to anybody!

I know you won't say a word.

I'm certain of it.

When they find you...

you won't be able to talk.

No, don't be afraid, Laura.

You won't feel a thing.

Believe me.
One moment and it's all over.

I swear, I won't keep you waiting.

You won't feel a thing...

The view is over this way.

I'm sorry.

It's beautiful up here.

Look, St. Peter's. I can see it better
than from Trinit� dei Monti.

The thought of poor Landini
makes me so sad, though.

Who knows? If I had gotten there
a few minutes earlier, perhaps...

Please, you mustn't think about it
anymore.

Just remember we'll be married soon.
That's all that matters.

Look, darling.

We're at the Pincio,
just in time for the sunset.

The most beautiful gift
Rome has to offer.

Wait, I have one.

Excuse me, but did you bring
half of America with you in that thing?

My suitcases are still
at the airport...

so I had to put all sorts of things
in here.

I only use this bag when I travel.

What's wrong?

Why are you acting so strange?

I had to do it.

Marijuana cigarettes.

I'd forgotten all about them.

I smoked one on the plane.

What if it was all a dream?

Nora, what's wrong?
Don't you feel well?

- No, I'm fine.
- What came over you?

Why did you grab the cigarette
out of my mouth?

Smoking's very bad for you.

Smoking sometimes is the cause of...

of tragedies you can't even imagine.

I'll never smoke again!

THE END

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