The Norliss Tapes

Good morning, mr. Evans.

Monday morning

is never good.

Anything important?

David norliss

on three.

Ah.

Hello, david.

Been a while.

How's the book coming?

Sanford, I've gotta

talk to you.

I know,

you're gonna tell me

it's only half-written,

And we're gonna

have to delay our-

Half-written, hell.

I don't have a word on paper.

It's been

almost a year.

I know how long

it's been, sanford.

But I, uh...

I can't write it.

I'm afraid to write it.

You're not making sense.

We gave you

a sizeable advance

To write a book

debunking the supernatural,

Which was your idea,

not ours.

And now you tell me,

a year later,

You haven't

even started it.

I'm into the book.

Deep into it.

But, uh...

It's on...On tapes.

A series of tapes.

When you hear them,

you'll understand.

What will I understand?

How far I've gone.

How dangerous

this whole thing is.

Sanford, I have to

talk to you.

David, you sound

very strange.

Are you all right?

David, are you all right?

Yeah.

Okay. Okay, what about

the canellia room

for lunch tomorrow?

That's no good.

I have to see you now.

It's Monday, dave.

You know what

mondays are like.

Why not tomorrow?

Tomorrow might be too late.

Do you wish

to order now, sir?

No, just

bring me a phone.

That was a week ago.

He never showed for lunch,

never phoned to explain why,

And I haven't been able

to contact him since.

Sanford, you should

be used to eccentric

writers by now.

And, in my opinion,

david norliss

Is just a bit

more eccentric than most.

Man, I'll never

get over this view.

There is something wrong.

I wish you'd

check this thing out,

find out where he is.

Sanford, I'm his lawyer,

not his nursemaid.

Please.

All right,

I'll look into it.

I still say

you're making too much

of a broken lunch date.

Sanford! Sanford!

Oh, good.

I was hoping

I'd see you.

Yeah, glad I ran into you.

Have you got time

to catch the cable with me?

Where are you going?

I'm going

up to the club.

All right, fine.

We'll have a drink.

Good. Yeah.

I, uh, have been

terribly worried.

I tried to

phone you earlier.

Well, I was in

a publisher's meeting.

Tied up the whole

bloody afternoon.

Sanford, I'm sorry

I didn't take you

very seriously

In the meeting

the other day.

Well?

I just thought

you were making

much too much of it.

I hope you have

something.

What'd you find out?

Nobody knows where david is.

Nobody's seen him.

He's just...Gone.

Are you sure?

We checked every

possible source,

Everything conceivable.

It seems

incredible to me.

David?

notes for introduction.

Today is Thursday,

September 25,

And I might as well

get started with this thing,

Get the book rolling

with what I've got so far.

God knows, it isn't

taking the direction

I assumed it would.

This whole thing began

when my natural

writer's curiosity

Was aroused

by an article I had read

in a weekly periodical.

The article was concerned

with the commercial aspects

Of spiritualism

and the occult.

My original idea

was to expose the phonies

Who are bilking

millions of dollars

each year

Out of their

gullible victims,

To go after

the fake mediums,

phony astrologers,

The self-proclaimed seers

and trick mystics.

I was successful

at this for some time.

The floating face,

which was a dummy's head

on a wire,

The ghost

of a woman's son

Who turned out to be

the medium's own kid

in a weird get-up.

The fortune teller

who's life images

in a crystal ball

Were supplied

by a hidden film projector.

But then I got into

this business with ellen cort.

I had better

try to get this down

exactly the way it happened.

Ellen sterns cort

was recently widowed.

Her late husband,

james raymond cort,

Was a successful sculptor

from a well-to-do family.

He worked from a studio

on the grounds of

his estate in carmel.

When he married,

he brought ellen

there to live.

The night before

she came to see me,

She'd undergone

a very bizarre

and frightening experience.

Shortly after midnight,

she was awakened

from a sound sleep

By the barking

of her dog, rollie.

What is it, rollie?

What's the matter, boy?

Is somebody out there?

Show me.

Okay, show me what you want.

Okay. Easy.

Easy, boy. Easy.

The following night,

mrs. Cort came to see me.

Actually, her sister,

marsha sterns,

An acquaintance of mine,

had set up the meeting.

Marsha knew about

my work in the supernatural.

When ellen called her

about the incident,

Marsha had ellen contact me.

And the police

found only the body

of my dog rollie,

His next snapped,

ribs broken.

They analyzed

the blood stains

on the floor,

And they were his.

All his.

Are you sure

you hit the man

When you

fired the shotgun?

I'm telling you,

I hit him.

Well, think about it.

You were upset,

you saw your dog killed.

You could've missed.

I've handled

guns before.

He was right

in front of me

In my direct

line of fire.

The charges hit him,

smashed him backwards,

And that's when I ran.

But when

the police arrived,

There wasn't

a trace of him.

No, he was gone.

And when I told them

who it was,

They wouldn't

believe me.

Now, that's why

I've come to you.

Mrs. Cort, why wouldn't

the police believe you?

Because the man I shot

was already dead.

It was jim.

My dead husband,

james cort.

Ellen cort seemed convinced

that she had encountered

The risen form of her

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