Original subtitles

*

*

Good evening.

Tonight I'm dining at my favorite club.

There are many advantages here.

As you can see, informality is the rule.

There is also the stimulation of intellectual companionship

without the deafening choir that pervades in most clubs.

Best of all, I like its privacy.

Only four persons are allowed at a table,

and, of course, no one pays any attention to you.

(snapping)

Our program is not restricted to views of the tonier clubs.

We also plan a visit to the cinema,

where we shall see a film entitled "The Kind Waitress."

It begins after this one-minute appetizer.

*

*

Mrs. Mannerheim hasn't come yet, hmm?

Take it easy, Thelma.

She'll show up.

It's 8:30.

Usually has her dinner before 8:00.

You can relax now.

There she is.

*

Marian, tell the chef, will you?

She'll want eggs scrambled soft and--

And dry toast and tea.

You think I don't know that order by this time?

Don't forget the milk.

She won't drink her tea without it.

*

Good evening, Mrs. Mannerheim.

Good evening, dear.

Your order's on the fire.

Here, let me do that.

There.

Love that fur.

It's beautiful.

You're a little late tonight.

Haven't been sick, have you?

A little.

Just a little.

But it's to be expected at my age.

Don't you think you ought to see Dr. Lacey again?

No.

He would just give me more of his silly medicine.

I never take the stuff.

You ought to.

When my time comes, the Lord will take me.

Medicine won't help.

But thank you for worrying, Thelma.

You are a good child.

I'm 38.

Pretty old for a child.

To me, it's very young.

Can you sit and talk a little?

I guess so.

Till your order's ready.

How are you getting on?

Same as usual, I guess.

Still in that rooming house?

Mm-hmm.

It's crummy, but it's cheap.

(coughing)

Here, take some water.

I'm all right.

Well...

Well, that's not really true.

I'm pretty sick.

For the first time I feel old.

Mrs. Mannerheim, I-I think...

Now, don't you fret.

What I wanted to tell you,

in case anything happens to me,

I mean...

I think a lot of you and I want to help you.

Do you know what I'm talking about?

No.

I'm an old woman, Thelma,

and I have more money than I know what to do with.

My sister, the last relative I had, passed on a year ago.

You are my only friend.

And I want you to know I've taken care of you.

Taken care of me?

In my will.

You have been kind to me, Thelma, and I'm grateful.

When I die, you will be able to leave this job,

move out of your rooming house

to a nice apartment.

You've always admired this, dear.

So I'm giving it to you now.

Mrs. Mannerheim, you-- you don't have to do this.

But I want to do it.

And you will receive a considerable legacy later on.

I haven't much time left.

I dreamt of a coffin last night.

Do you believe in dreams?

I don't know.

I think I'm...

I'm having a kind of dream right now.

(laughs)

Maybe I better get your dinner before it gets cold.

*

What held you up?

I've been waiting here an hour.

Honey, guess what happened?

Did you bring anything to eat?

Don't I even rate a kiss?

First things first.

What's in the bag?

Brought you a roast beef sandwich.

And some French fries, too.

Hope they're not cold.

They're cold.

No beer?

Darling, I was so excited I forgot.

Arthur, I got something to tell you.

-Write me a letter. -It's important.

To you as well as to me.

What'd you do, get canned?

I got left some money, in a will.

Who died?

Nobody, not yet.

Do you remember that sweet old lady I told you about,

Mrs. Mannerheim?

Well, she gave me this lovely pin tonight.

And she told me she's leaving me

a considerable legacy in her will.

She's such a sweet old lady, honey.

Holy cow!

I been a day late and a dollar short

all my cotton-picking life.

No more playing for peanuts.

I could start my own band.

Can't you just see it?

A six-piece combo and me on a licorice stick!

I wonder how much a considerable legacy means,

in terms of cash.

She's awful rich.

Could be 20, maybe $50,000.

Fifty grand?

Yes.

Go, girl, go!

Hey, you're on cloud seven now.

Reach up and grab for eight.

*

Fifty thousand dollars is nothing to Mrs. Mannerheim.

She's got the most expensive suite in the hotel.

Darling, when this happens,

we'll get married, huh?

We could maybe do it before?

Not before, Thelma.

As soon as the old dame kicks off, sure.

But until then, you got to stay with her every minute,

make sure she don't change her mind.

You're right, honey.

You're always right.

You give me a kiss and I'll go down

and bring you back some beer, hm?

*

Just look at that old thing.

Now, some night she's going to die

right in the middle of dinner.

You think a woman like that would go to a home or something.

I think she'd want to.

Her tray's on the steam table.

I'll pick it up.

Good evening, Mrs. Mannerheim.

You're looking good tonight.

What you say?

I said you're looking good.

Well, I'm not feeling good.

The food in this dining room gives me indigestion.

And I must say the service has become inferior.

You have been neglecting me lately.

And after I gave you my lovely brooch--

Oh, dry up.

What did you say?

I said I'm sorry, Mrs. Mannerheim.

I try to do my best.

*

The old girl giving you a hard time?

I don't know what's come over her.

She used to be so sweet.

*

Four months we've been waiting.

I'm fed up.

Honey.

Well, you're sick of waiting, too.

You're getting to hate the old bag.

Hate?

I'm very fond of Mrs. Mannerheim.

Oh, don't give me that.

You're getting to hate her more and more every day.

I can see it in your face.

You don't talk about her the way you used to.

She's taking much too long to die.

I don't know what you're talking about!

What makes you think she won't live to be 100?

She's so sick!

Then why ain't she dead?

Arthur!

Why not help her along a little, honey?

Don't you see how easy it would be?

And it wouldn't even be wrong.

Oh, think how the poor old lady's suffering,

sick the way she is.

She'd welcome a little peace.

And you could give it to her.

It would be a snap.

I'm not listening.

Nobody would ever know.

I'd help you, I'd show you how.

Stop this.

We could do it with the food.

She'd never notice, a sick old lady like that,

her taste buds all shot.

You just put a little bit of something in her tea,

night after night until...

You're crazy.

You're talking absolutely crazy!

Sure, sure, only listen to what I'm saying.

Now, there's plenty of stuff around.

I'll figure a way how to get it.

And every night, you'll just put a little bit in her tea.

Now, that'd be easy for you, wouldn't it?

Poor sick old lady.

You know, they got a name for this.

It'd be what they call a mercy killing.

And as soon as it happens,

we could get married, doll.

Suppose tomorrow I go out

and get a little something, huh?

What do you say?

All right, Arthur.

We'll do it like you say.

*

*

This is gonna be tougher than I thought.

When I went to the drugstore to get the stuff,

the guy wanted me to sign my name in a book.

Think me handing myself over to the cops that way.

What are we gonna do?

I got to study up and find out all about this stuff.

-Can I help? -Yeah.

You give it to her when the time comes.

Now, shut up.

*

"...a poison which on ingestion,

inhalation, absorption,

application, injection

or development within the body

produces an injury to the body."

*

This Mrs. Mannerheim, she's over 80, huh?

How's her heart?

Bad.

That's her worst trouble.

Doctor gives her medicine, but she won't take it.

Hey, listen to this.

"Anatine--the leaves of the Laricaescropha,

dried and distilled, form the poison Anatine.

The prepared drug has a faint odor but no discernible taste."

That's it!

All I got to do is get some of these...

Laricaescropha leaves

and we got it made!

What are they?

I'll find out.

You go down and bring me back some beer.

*

*

Looks just like water, don't it?

Or gin, maybe.

*

Yeah, it's got a faint odor.

Smells like, uh...

geraniums.

Arthur, don't!

Got to hand it to these science cats.

No taste!

Baby, we are in business...

as of now.

*

*

*

*

Say, Thelma...

What do you want?

What's the matter, you got the jitters?

No, I'm okay.

I'm perfectly okay.

Oh, I just wanted to ask if you'd mind

taking Wednesday off instead of Saturday.

One of the other girls--

Wednesday?

Yeah, sure, that's fine.

Oh.

*

There you are.

The toast is hot,

your eggs just the way you like them.

And here's the milk for your tea.

I'm not a bit hungry.

I should have stayed in bed.

Whenever you feel like that,

why don't you just go right ahead and do it?

I'll bring the tray up to your room.

Since you did get dressed,

I think you ought to eat something, don't you?

Here, try some tea.

Yes.

I always like my tea.

Tastes good.

For goodness sake, why are you staring at me, child?

Go away.

Sorry, Mrs. Mannerheim.

I didn't mean...

Marian, about Wednesday, I've been thinking.

I don't need either Wednesday or Saturday off.

Are you crazy?

There's no time-and-a-half overtime on this job.

That's okay.

I want to stay close to Mrs. Mannerheim.

She--she don't look so good.

You're crazy, all right.

But you're kind of nice, too.

Are you being taken care of, Mrs. Mannerheim?

Oh, yes.

Thelma has a real knack for her work.

But don't tell her I said so.

A little discipline is good for girls.

I've never seen you with a hat before, Mrs. Mannerheim.

Going someplace?

Yes, I'm going to die.

But not tonight.

Tonight I'm going to live.

You know what I'm going to do?

I'm going to treat myself

to a lump of sugar.

*

(smacks lips)

Certainly is good.

*

We've had her on the stuff for almost half a year.

She's had enough to knock off a whole battalion

of top sergeants.

I've done everything you told me.

It don't work.

I'm so dog tired.

Well, don't she even look worse?

Sick to her stomach, nothing like that?

I haven't noticed any difference.

She's always been sick and old.

Well, keep giving her the same amount.

Can't start taking chances now.

Honey, I'm telling you.

I can't keep this up, I gotta stop.

What?

I gotta stop.

What are you doing?

Taking back my picture.

You chicken out on me, I'm pulling out on you.

Honey, don't, don't.

Don't leave me.

I'll do anything you say.

Well?

I'll give her the stuff if you want me to.

*

*

*

It's me, Mrs. Mannerheim, with your tray.

*

You sure look pretty, Mrs. Mannerheim.

Pretty as a doll.

I don't feel like one.

I feel very weary, Thelma.

I think my time has come at last.

Oh, you oughtn't to talk like that.

Come on, now.

Have your eggs and your toast.

I have no appetite.

Then drink your tea.

Always like your tea.

Yes.

You're a sweet girl, Thelma,

when you want to be.

You didn't bring me the milk.

Oh, gosh, I forgot.

Come on, Mrs. Mannerheim, just this once.

Try and drink it straight.

But I don't like tea without milk.

Couldn't you get me some?

Mrs. Mannerheim, if I went down to the kitchen

to get you some milk,

the tea would be cold by the time I got back.

I'd have to make some more tea.

Well, couldn't you do that?

Yes, I could, but I got other things to do.

Come on, now, drink your tea.

But I can't!

I simply can't!

I always had milk with my tea.

You know how it is, a habit like that.

No, I don't.

I don't.

I don't know how it is.

I've never had everything I wanted.

Do you understand that?

Can you understand that?

Why, Thelma!

I've had to work for what I wanted.

I've been working all my life.

You think I'm a waitress because--because I like it?

Do you think the restaurant's my home?

Do you think I like greasy kitchens and dirty dishes

and complaining old women?

I must ask you not to speak to me like that.

I'll speak to you any way I like.

You are a rude, naughty girl.

You are not at all the person I thought you were.

I'm afraid I'm going to have to change my will.

Don't you touch that phone!

Now, now, you stop that.

Let go of my hand, you horrid child!

I'm not a child!

I'm 38 years old!

*

*

Mrs...Mrs. Mannerheim.

Mrs. Mannerheim!

*

The coroner was notified by Dr. Lacey,

the attending physician,

and he appointed me to perform the autopsy.

I first viewed the body of Sarah Mannerheim, deceased,

approximately one hour and a half after her death.

The left side of the neck revealed four fingernail marks.

On the larynx were discolored marks of bruising

accompanied by swelling.

There was also a fracture of the hyoid bone.

An autopsy revealed that the main respiratory organs

showed marked congestion.

Now, Dr. Maxwell,

what conclusion did you draw?

That the deceased was throttled, choked to death.

Thank you, you may step down.

Miss Thelma Tompkins, take the stand, please.

Raise your right hand.

Do you solemnly swear to tell the truth,

the whole truth and nothing but the truth?

I do.

Be seated, please.

Now, Miss Tompkins, it appears that you were

the last person to see Mrs. Mannerheim alive.

You've heard the medical examiner

and the testimony of Dr. Lacey,

Mrs. Mannerheim's physician.

He stated that he came to the hotel in response

to a phone call.

Did you make that call?

I guess so.

This is not a matter of guessing, Miss Tompkins.

Did you or did you not telephone Dr. Lacey

and tell him that you had entered Mrs. Mannerheim's room

and found her dead?

Yes, I did.

Then why didn't you remain there

until he arrived, as he asked you to do?

I was scared.

So scared that you ran right home

and started packing your bags.

Miss Tompkins, I understand you know a man named Arthur.

He didn't have anything to do with it!

The police have been unable to locate him.

Can you tell us where he is?

I don't know.

He didn't do it anyway.

I didn't do it, either!

I...

That is...

I didn't mean to do it the way I did.

You may step down.

(murmur)

...for trial.

You gentlemen agree?

We find that the deceased,

Sarah Mannerheim,

met her death due to unnatural causes.

We recommend that Thelma Tompkins

be taken into custody and held for trial

on such charges as may be preferred against her.

This jury stands adjourned.

Thank you, Dr. Lacey.

You know, Mrs. Mannerheim was such a grand old lady.

It's a shame she had to go that way.

Yes.

The only consolation is she wouldn't have lived long

in any case.

Had a bad heart.

I'd been giving her Anatine.

Anatine?

It's usually thought of as a poison,

but in small doses it's aspecific

for a condition like hers.

Funny thing, I had an idea she distrusted medicine,

didn't take the stuff.

Actually, Anatine was the only thing keeping her alive.

*

"The only thing keeping her alive."

"Anatine was the only thing keeping her alive."

"Keeping her alive."

*

Oh.

This type of restaurant underlines one of the basic

confusions of my life.

I frequently find myself

trying to tip slot machines

and tilt waitresses.

Just now, I'm trying to find the caviar.

While I'm looking, suppose you do the same.

I shall rejoin you in a minute.

They don't have caviar.

The manager has offered me elderberry jam,

which he claims looks exactly the same.

He feels that when you buy caviar,

you're just spending a lot of money for the name.

He may be right.

I'll never know.

Next week we shall return with another story.

Until then, good night.