Your Vice is a Locked Room and Only I Have the Key Page #7

And luckily the cat's disappeared.

Was the black girl dressed like this

when you killed her?

I'm definitely not Mary Stuart

but then you don't have

Lord Leicester's face.

I learnt something reading this book

about the 'bloody letters'

and the battle

between the two queens...

Edifying, isn't it?

What did Irene tell you?

That she shares her bed

with a crazy, alcoholic murderer?

No, nothing like that.

The poor woman's terrified

because of everything

that's happened.

- And you?

- I'm keeping my eyes wide open.

When I saw you yesterday

in the hay loft...

Of course I saw you!

Who else could it have been?

I wanted you inside

the sleeping bag.

- Didn't you want to as well?

- You really are the little whore

I thought you were.

And are you really the pig

they say you are?

Take that thing off.

Why don't you take it off

with your own hands?

No...

What's wrong?

Irene!

Irene.

Where did these come from?

Would you mind

answering me, Irene?

I couldn't find the old ones

so I bought those.

- Strange.

- Why?

I haven't seen the cat for two days.

He hasn't even come in to eat.

Don't you think it's strange?

What did you do to him?

Did you hurt him?

You're crazy. Why would I?

Why would you?

I know why.

Because you've always hated him,

because my mother liked him,

because he belongs to me,

because he's mine,

which you'll never be,

because you're a whore,

a dirty bloody whore!

I beg you, Oliviero.

I can't stand it.

Stop scaring me...

I'd just have to dig

these in a bit, just a bit...

You're hurting me...

Excuse me, sir.

- Yes? Oh, good morning Mrs Molinar.

- Good morning.

I want to speak to the police chief.

The police station's right there

in front of you.

- Thank you. Goodbye.

- Goodbye.

You wish he was dead,

don't you?

I've noticed your life's hell,

so why do you stay?

He'd never let me go.

Maybe you're wrong.

Last night he told me

he wanted to kill you.

No. Then he'd destroy

what entertains him,

his victim.

He just wanted to scare you.

All he wants is to get into your bed.

He already has.

Jealous? You're jealous?

No, not in the way you think.

He's a failure... not only

as a writer, and he knows it.

He hides it from himself.

Maybe this is

what caused all the problems.

Maybe you haven't thought

about ending it for good.

It wouldn't take much.

No?

No. You're spoilt for choice...

Ideas like a picnic with a tragic ending.

A leap into the ravine,

the inconsolable widow...

Romantic, isn't it?

Now I've found you

I can't stand her anymore.

I can't carry on

being stuck between

a hysterical woman

and an erotomaniac.

If you continue

I'll leave this house.

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