The Truth About Charlie Page #5

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What about you?

It might be a bit wrinkled. | My dress.

Are you okay now? | Oh, I'm still shaking.

What happened? | What did you do? | Oh, nothing much.

I don't think | he'll be bothering you | anymore though.

How you doing?

You know what's wrong with you, | Joshua Peters?

What?

Absolutely nothing.

Mmm. | I feel a little funny | about this.

My kisses are funny?

You hungry?

Yeah. | Great.

Starving. | I got lots of goodies.

I'm... I'm gonna shower first.

Okay.

Just make yourself | at home, okay?

Reggie?

How'd you know | about those people today?

What? | Those three.

And the missing money.

Where did you find out | about all that?

Uh, shoot.

Uh...

Look...

I'm afraid I can't tell you.

I promised.

Promised? Who?

I'm sorry.

I want you to hear this. | Huh?

It's Aznavour. | You know him?

"- Shoot the Piano Player," right?

Exactly.

- Hello? | - Hello, Mrs. Lambert.

Don't hang up on me. | Look, I'm sorry | about the elevator.

- I have nothing to say to you. | - We've gotta talk.

Who is it? | The guy from the elevator.

- What? Give me the phone. | - Wait. Who... | Is that Dyle there?

Who? | Mr. Dyle.

Has he laid his little | Charles Aznavour routine | on you yet?

What's he saying?

Yeah. That's right. | Reggie.

Okay. | Nobody wants to hurt you.

- Reggie, what did he say? | - All we want is what's ours. | We know that you have it.

Dyle's not to be trusted.

He wants your money. | He'll do any...

What did he say?

That if I don't | give him the money, | he'll kill me.

Why would he kill you? | He's just saying that to scare | you, Reggie. That's all.

As long as they think | you have that money... | Then why is Charles dead?

He obviously knew | where that money is. | Reggie, listen.

I'm on your side, | and I wish you'd tell me | everything you know...

promises or no promises... | so I could be of some help.

I think you'd better go, | Joshua.

I'm afraid | I've lost my appetite.

Oh.

I'm very tired.

I understand. It's... | It's been a long day.

Please, | I really need to think.

Well, just remember, | I'm on your side.

Yeah.

Hey!

You people | want to get rich or not?

Don't go getting | all rhetorical on us now, Dyle. | Hey.

Answer my question. | Rich or not rich?

Does she have the money | or not, Dyle?

I think she does.

Here's my problem. | You say there was nothing | with Charlie in the train,

in his bags, | in his clothes... whatever.

But size up, Dyle, it's all smoke. | You got zero credibility | around here.

You're right, Lola. | I already got what I want.

Yet I choose to subject myself | to this bullshit anyway.

You just want to | get in her pants... anyway.

Zadapec, I'm not even touching | your psychodrama in the elevator | and your crazed phone call.

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