The Million Dollar Hotel Page #3

If you want to make a name for yourself,

Sergeant, you go and figure that one out.

I only do one case at a time.

Tell you what, you give me a confession,

I'll look into those royalties for you.

I don't know, maybe it was

the excitement of everything...

...murder and mystery

and special agents.

Suddenly I just knew:

this was my chance to speak to Eloise.

I wanted her to know my name.

It took me a while.

You can be slow but confident.

I guess that's the way I am... was.

You shouldn't be smoking.

Sometimes when people smoke, they...

...they die, and sometimes

they even get cancer.

Cancer.

And sometimes people die when they smoke,

and sometimes they even get cancer.

I can't die.

Oh, you can't?

- You can't?

- I don't exist.

So, how come?

I'm fictional.

Sergeant, I don't know

what medication you're on, but...

Izzy was a dreamer.

We were all dreamers, you know.

Haven't you ever read the interviews?

Haven't you ever seen the tapes?

"I was driving to John's in my Aston Martin,

and I was stuck in that intersection, you know.

"All of a sudden it came to me,

as I went into a dream.

"Somebody spoke to me.

'All right, all right, all right', I said."

So people think God spoke to him.

You think God spoke to him?

You think God sits around writing songs?

I am The Walrus.

God's just the middleman.

Is fictional good for you?

I'm sorry, because I'm just trying to make...

...an impression, and maybe

even a good impression.

And I didn't know that...

Maybe you didn't remember me.

I remember everything.

Everything?

Everything.

That's a lot.

I wouldn't recommend it.

- OK, OK, come.

- Huh? Do you believe this guy?

Doesn't seem to be anyone around,

does there?

Nothing that my unlimited

credit card won't fix.

Come on, come on.

You're from the future, aren't you?

- Yes.

- Yes!

What's that like? And how, how is it?

- The future?

- Yes.

- It's better.

- Oh, good. Good. Good. Good.

That's all Izzy's poems.

You know, familiarity breeds contempt.

- Oh?

- That makes you a suspect.

Me, a what?

That's the tar. The tar.

What, what is...

That's Geronimo's. It goes there.

- What is a...

- Suspect?

Well, that's somebody

who kills somebody,

until, of course,

he can prove that he didn't.

Suspect.

- Thank you!

- No, a simple "thanks" is ample.

Wait. Say it one, one more time,

when you...

- Suspect.

- Suspect.

- One more time!

- Suspect.

I don't know if my son

was killed to get at me,

but I know that his death has

great entertainment potential.

He came from money and power,

lived with bums and Indians,

died mysteriously.

Easy headlines:

"Far from the golden gates of Bel Air".

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