The Killers Page #4

Daughertys employed here, are there?

No, sir.

Oh. Him it is!

- Who?

- Oh, the man in 1212.

But... But his name was never Lunn.

It was, um, uh, Nelson.

That's who that is.

That's Mr. Nelson.

And you only knew him

as a guest in the hotel?

Yes, sir. Oh, but that was years ago.

The year of the hurricane.

1940, that was.

I remember because it was when

my sister's youngest was born.

Was it a natural death he

was dying, Mr. Riordan?

No, Queenie. He was murdered.

Murder, you say?

How long did Mr. Nelson,

as you call him, stay here?

Well, I couldn't say exactly, sir,

but no longer than a few days.

And you never saw him before

those few days or after?

Never, sir.

Why do you suppose he made

his insurance payable to you?

For the life of me, sir...

Murder, it was?

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Poor Mr. Nelson.

Well, there's one thing

to be thankful for.

He can sleep in consecrated ground.

- What do you mean by that?

- The sin was not on his own soul.

Why did you think

he'd killed himself?

Well, sir, now maybe

I shouldn't be tellin' it.

No, go ahead, Queenie.

Well, sir, I was makin' my rounds.

I was on night duty then,

turnin' down the beds,

and I came into 1212.

Oh! It was a sight to behold!

She's gone.

- She's gone!

- Who's gone, mister?

Don't do it, mister!

Mister, don't! Please, mister.

Oh, if you did, you'd never

see the face of God.

You'd burn in hell to the end of time.

Oh, you mustn't, mister.

Oh, blessed Mother of God,

help me. Oh, please.

She's gone!

Charleston was right. He was right.

Charleston was right.

Atlantic Casualty, claim department.

There's your party. Go ahead.

- Good morning, Stella.

- Good morning, dream boy.

- Mr. Kenyon wants to see you.

- What about the Swede? Pete Lunn.

- Oh, my notes aren't transcribed yet.

- Uh-huh.

- You sent for me?

- What are you working on?

- The Lunn case.

- That one of those $2,500 death benefits?

- That's right.

- Forget it.

- There's a damaged freight claim...

- Ever hear of anyone called Charleston?

Charleston.

There was a petty-larceny thief. Why?

Does a green handkerchief decorated

with golden harps mean anything to you?

What are you talking about,

a green handkerchief?

Did you ever try to remember

something like somebody's name,

have it on the tip of your tongue almost,

then, just as you're about to say it,

- lose it?

- I guess so.

Well, that's how it is with me

and this green handkerchief.

- It's real silk. Whose was it?

- The dead man's.

Listen. I'm trying to

run an organization.

The number of claims piled up here...

I could use six other investigators

and still be behind.

And you're off fooling around

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes