WEBVTT

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And now, tonight's presentation of radio's outstanding theater of thrills, Suspense.

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Tonight, we bring you a transcribed story of a day in the life of a woman who awaits

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an execution.

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We call it, The Murderess.

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So now, starring Kathy Lewis, here is tonight's Suspense play, The Murderess.

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She awoke earlier that morning, earlier than she had thought she would.

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Purposely, she had gone to bed later the night before, read later, then to ensure the blessed

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passage of unconscious time, taken something to make her sleep, something to keep her from

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the slow morning hours.

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The bedside clock showed 8 a.m., but she knew it sometimes ran slow, and so she picked up

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the phone.

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At the tone, the time will be 8.06 and 30 seconds.

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Automatically, she adjusted the clock and noted the ashtray overflowing with half-smoked

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cigarette studs.

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Eleven hours and 53 and a half minutes, cheat the seconds and say, eleven hours and 53 minutes,

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exactly.

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It would be finished then.

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Then she thought calmly, as she had promised herself she would think today.

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I know I can't help thinking about it.

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It's silly to try and push it away, but I've got to occupy myself with every minute, every

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second, then the time will pass.

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There's lots of things to do, and I'm lucky.

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I didn't think I'd be able to sleep at all, and I did get five hours.

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I'm lucky.

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She got out of bed, and knowing the morning paper would be lying outside her door, she

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perversely delayed the moment when she would bring it in, instead going to the kitchen

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and turning on the flame under the kettle.

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It was at that moment of brushing teeth, washing face, that she saw, for the first time that

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day, the face in the mirror, her own.

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And she was drawn to it, leaning close over the sink, examining, searching, seeing in

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an instant a bright objectivity, another face, a stranger.

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Murderer.

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Murderess.

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You.

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You, not me, but you.

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Your lips are chapped.

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It's always this time of year they get that way.

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You're a murderess.

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You killed someone.

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You killed him.

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I saw you.

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And when the face stared back unmoved, she was afraid, and reached up to touch the face,

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to feel it, and know she was herself, and not the thing in the mirror.

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It was 8.30 when she sat at the kitchen table to drink her tea, and opened the morning's

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newspaper.

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Bailey execution tonight.

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March 27th, Margaret Bailey, convicted slayer of her husband John Bailey, is scheduled to

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die in the electric chair tonight at 8 o'clock.

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After a lengthy trial and prudeless appeals, the attractive widow was stale according to

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her attorney, H. Hillman Adams, maintaining her innocence.

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No official word has been received from the governor's office, but it's felt unlikely

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that a last minute reprieve will be forthcoming.

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Mrs. Bailey, who shot and killed her husband four months ago, is reported to have spent

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the last night in prayer.

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8.

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That's not a good thing to do.

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I mustn't read anymore.

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When I go out, I won't look at the headlines on the newsstands.

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I won't listen to the news broadcasts.

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Not today.

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It's very silly to read that.

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I wonder if I'd be praying.

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I wonder what she feels.

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Who is it?

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Laura, ma'am.

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Morning, honey.

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Laura.

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I forgot.

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You know I forgot you were coming today.

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Honey, if I had a nickel for every time I forgot, my Annie used to say to me, Laura,

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if you don't have your head screwed on tight, you'd forget it and leave it somewhere sure

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as an angel.

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I've got some coffee on.

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That would be fine.

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I never did get a decent coffee.

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Everything was late.

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Both was late.

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One of those devil in the air mornings, I guess.

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Queen of sugar?

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No, ma'am.

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I'm on my diet again.

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Here.

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Thank you.

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It's a truly shame.

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Poor woman.

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Pretty thing.

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At our ladies' meeting the other night, we were talking about it.

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Most of us were talking about it.

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Most of us don't think that she done it.

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Oh, ain't it awful, Miss Marion, when you think there's a life that's going to be no

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more in a few hours.

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Laura, I just said last night in Kringle.

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Bless her heart.

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You know, Miss Marion, I guess I'm a silly, thoughtful woman, but I look at that face

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and I say, Laura, that Mrs. Bailey, she's no murderer.

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Just from her face I say that.

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I don't think the court agrees with you, Laura.

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Court?

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Somebody had to pay, and they picked her.

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Because if you ask me, with these elections coming up and everything, they had to find

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her guilty.

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That's silly.

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Oh, ma'am, I don't think it purely is.

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From what I read, there's lots of chances for another woman to have done it.

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The other woman.

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You sound just like one of those scandal magazines, Laura.

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Laura.

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Well, if you ask me right now, someone is sitting laughing to herself right this minute,

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and she knows what she's done, and the good Lord will take care of her all right.

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You see, you'd better start vacuuming as soon as you've finished your coffee, Laura.

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I'm going to get dressed.

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She knew it had been a mistake to sit down with Laura.

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She'd wanted to make small talk.

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The friendly, non-important things that passed the time were listening to Laura's pseudo-intellectual

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philosophies which the cleaning woman so proudly expounded, and yet showing under the surface

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almost profound wisdom.

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She might even have talked to Laura about herself, of unhappiness, fear, relieving the

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pressing weight without disclosing the secret.

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But now, Laura was alien.

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Laura suspected something that she knew.

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It was ten o'clock, and there were ten more hours, until eight.

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I'll get it, Laura.

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Hello.

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Hello, dear.

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Hello, Mother.

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How are you?

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Fine.

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Can I wake you up?

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No, no, I've been up since eight.

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Oh, is Laura there?

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Yes.

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Do you want to talk to her?

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No, no, just tell her I'm expecting her on Monday.

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I wasn't sure whether it would be Monday or Tuesday, but I decided Monday.

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All right.

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Are you all right here?

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Yes, I'm fine.

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You've got one of those headaches again.

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I wish you'd go to the doctor about it.

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It worried me so much.

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I'm fine, Mother.

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Would you like to come over for dinner tonight?

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No, thanks.

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Thanks, Mother.

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I've got a date.

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Oh?

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It's nobody you know, Mother.

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Well, that's all right, dear.

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I thought you might like to watch TV.

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There's a very good show at eight o'clock.

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Jackie, maybe you could bring a date for dinner.

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I'm sorry, Mother.

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And we could watch the show at eight, and then you could go on to wherever you're going.

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I told you, Mother, I can't.

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Look, I've got to go now.

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I'll talk to you soon.

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Tomorrow.

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All right, dear.

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Goodbye.

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Mrs. Barington, can you help me?

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I want to move the cabinet, ma'am.

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It hasn't been cleaned behind there since Noah.

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Oh, all right.

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You just take the corner, honey.

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Don't strain yourself.

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Just kind of lean.

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I'll do the pushing.

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Now.

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Just a whiff of more.

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There.

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Oh, my, my, honey.

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If you've been missing any bills and things, that's where they are.

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Oh, whee.

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I declare.

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I'll take them, Laura.

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Well, here you are.

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Oh, what a nice-looking gentleman.

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Give it to me.

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I'm going to take it.

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I'm going to take it.

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I'm going to take it.

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I'm going to take it.

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Give it to me.

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It's a picture of him.

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I thought I'd lost it.

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I thought it was lost.

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She saw it.

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His picture was in the papers.

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She'll remember.

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She'll think about it.

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And she'll remember.

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It's a picture of a cousin of mine.

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I never liked him.

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He was a black sheep.

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You know what I mean.

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I'm going to take it.

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You know what I mean.

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It caused a lot of trouble, Laura.

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I'd almost forgotten all about him.

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I'm sorry I was rude.

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It just brought back very unpleasant memories.

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Oh, why, sure.

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That's all right.

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I understand.

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I had an uncle like that once.

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All he looked at was hell.

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But he didn't know.

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That cousin of yours sure reminds me of somebody.

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Somebody I've seen and I know.

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Now, who could that be?

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Hello.

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This is Marvin Miller.

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We'll return to our program in a moment.

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But first, here's something to think about.

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The United States of America is young among the nations of the world.

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But it has proven the value of its way of life.

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Perhaps the most important words in our national heritage are the first three words of the Constitution.

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We, the people.

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The people are in power.

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Not an individual or a party or a group of individuals.

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But the people as a whole.

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The communists have corrupted this word people.

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Just as they have made the words peace and freedom and liberty seem meaningless.

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Ask the citizen in one of the communist people's republics just how much he has to say about how his government is run.

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With us, the word means exactly what it says.

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It means everybody, no exceptions.

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And as citizens, we recognize our two responsibilities.

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First, to know what our rights are.

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And second, to defend those rights.

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And now we bring back to our Hollywood soundstage, Miss Kathy Lewis.

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Starring in tonight's production, The Murderous.

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A tale well calculated to keep you in suspense.

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It was new.

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She had listened to the sounds of Laura vacuuming, kitchen harmonies, clinking of china, ring of silver.

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She bathed and dressed automatically, slowly, always listening, waiting for a pause in Laura's clean ritual.

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A pause that might indicate that she had remembered.

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Remembered whose face it was in the photograph.

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If she does remember and she comes to me, what will I say? Do.

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And fastening the pearl necklace, hands momentarily frozen behind her neck, the sounds in the kitchen had stopped.

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The clasp of the necklace was secured.

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But all of the plans so carefully made to ease the passage of this terrible day were gone.

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She knew she could never recapture them.

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She thought.

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But after tonight, it will be better.

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And tomorrow and next week and next month, better.

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It's only the waiting for tonight. That's all.

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What about Laura?

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The photograph.

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Supposing she did remember him from newspaper pictures.

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Supposing she knows and doesn't say anything to me, waits until I go out, then calls the police.

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Be careful now, honey. It's slick over there.

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Laura, I'm going out for a while. Get my hair washed. If anyone calls, tell them I'll be home by two or two thirty.

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Yes, ma'am.

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There's some cold cuts if you want some for lunch.

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Oh, I'll be fine.

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Just a cup of soup, that's all.

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She put on her hat and coat and left the apartment, closing the door with unnecessary force.

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At the elevator door, she stopped and waited for a few moments.

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It's silly. She doesn't know anything, suspect anything.

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Besides, she didn't have a chance to look at the picture for more than a second or two.

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We believe her.

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Lots of people resemble other people.

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Unless, unless the police do suspect somebody else and they know it wasn't his wife.

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But if the newspaper stories were just a trick trying to make me think that she was going to die tonight, knowing she's innocent.

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Yes, I know. Yes.

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Yes. Yes.

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Well, I saw with my own eyes.

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Yes.

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Well, I'm just telling you what I know.

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That's right.

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Laura.

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Mrs. Marion, I didn't hear you.

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Who are you talking to, Laura?

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My sister, my sister Mary.

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No, baby, it's Mrs. Marion. I'll talk to you later.

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Yes.

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Goodbye.

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Oh, you sure did scare the lights out of me, honey.

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I'm sorry.

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I forgot something.

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And with the lie fresh on her lips, she went into the bedroom, sat on the bed, suddenly feeling pale and cold.

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It was 12.15 on the bedroom clock.

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She had called the hairdresser and canceled the appointment.

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She knew that she couldn't leave the apartment, not at least until after Laura had gone.

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And that wouldn't be until 4.30.

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Laura had been calling the police.

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She was convinced of that.

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But I don't think they believed her.

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Still, they might begin to wonder. They might investigate.

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She was lying on the bed, arms folded behind her head, aware that her shoes were still on, sharp heels, endangering the lacy counterpane.

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Not caring.

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Hearing the sounds of Laura's humming and an occasional groan as she stooped to her work.

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Even if they did come, they'd never find the picture.

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They couldn't prove anything. I'd deny it.

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But what would I have to deny?

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I mustn't do that.

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Then they would suspect.

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I wish I could sleep.

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This isn't the way it was supposed to be today.

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I think I'll make some coffee.

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Hello?

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Alice?

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No.

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What number do you want?

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Batting 35769.

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You have the right number, but there's no one living here by that name.

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I'm sorry.

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You all right, honey?

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Yes.

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Well, you want me to make you a bite of something to eat?

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I'm just going to make some coffee.

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Well, maybe you'd feel more chipper if you...

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You want me to answer?

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I will.

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Hello?

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Alice?

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Oh, I'm sorry. I guess it's still the wrong number.

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Honey, you're real pale.

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Why don't you take off your shoes and take a lie down?

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Somebody trying to frighten me. That's the second time he called.

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Now, you take yourself a nap. That'll fix you.

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No, I don't want to.

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Oh, but honey, you're all wrought up.

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You got something troubling you, Miss Marion?

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You want to tell me?

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Why do you say that?

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There's nothing wrong with me.

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Was it seeing that cousin of yours, the one in the picture?

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Now, you can tell Laura.

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It was an old gentleman friend, not your cousin, wasn't it?

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And seeing him upset you, didn't he?

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I could tell.

19:16.920 --> 19:19.920
Oh, well, I'll make you a cup of coffee.

19:19.920 --> 19:23.920
Now, you lay down for a spell, and when I come back, you can talk it all out, honey.

19:23.920 --> 19:25.920
Make you feel better.

19:25.920 --> 19:29.920
You'd better get back to your work, Laura.

19:29.920 --> 19:31.920
I'm going out now.

19:31.920 --> 19:35.920
Honey, I'm worried about you. I wish you wouldn't go.

19:35.920 --> 19:42.920
She didn't turn around, didn't answer the maid, pausing only for an instant to take up her pocketbook and coat.

19:42.920 --> 19:44.920
Then she left the house.

19:48.920 --> 19:54.920
For an hour, she walked in the city, aimless, not thinking, not seeing.

19:54.920 --> 20:00.920
And it wasn't until she noticed a cruising patrol car that things drew back into focus.

20:00.920 --> 20:03.920
Perhaps they're looking for me.

20:03.920 --> 20:05.920
They found out.

20:05.920 --> 20:07.920
They know.

20:07.920 --> 20:11.920
I should have done something.

20:11.920 --> 20:13.920
What?

20:13.920 --> 20:15.920
Killed her?

20:15.920 --> 20:18.920
Killed Laura?

20:18.920 --> 20:20.920
Oh, I should...

20:20.920 --> 20:25.920
Oh, like crazy, crazy, thinking things like that.

20:25.920 --> 20:28.920
It's three o'clock.

20:28.920 --> 20:30.920
Three.

20:30.920 --> 20:34.920
Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

20:34.920 --> 20:37.920
Five hours. I'll go to a movie.

20:37.920 --> 20:41.920
They wouldn't find me in there. They wouldn't think of looking there.

20:41.920 --> 20:43.920
It'll pass the time.

20:46.920 --> 20:51.920
She went into the first movie theater she saw, not looking at the marquee.

20:51.920 --> 21:06.920
Made her admission, almost ran inside, then sank into the worn shiny seat and leaned back in semi-darkness and watched the flickering light on the screen before her, without seeing or caring about its content.

21:10.920 --> 21:14.920
It was five o'clock when the second feature began playing.

21:14.920 --> 21:21.920
For ten minutes she watched, now seeing and hearing because the fantasy had momentarily taken her out of herself.

21:21.920 --> 21:24.920
Not seven, you jerk, eight. Look, I got 34 apples, right?

21:24.920 --> 21:25.920
Right.

21:25.920 --> 21:26.920
You take 30 from me, right?

21:26.920 --> 21:27.920
Right.

21:27.920 --> 21:28.920
But you're a good guy.

21:28.920 --> 21:30.920
Max, he says I'm a good guy.

21:30.920 --> 21:32.920
You give me back three. Yeah, I get seven now.

21:32.920 --> 21:34.920
You got eight. Four and four is eight.

21:34.920 --> 21:36.920
Oh, you ain't got no brains. It's arithmetic. Seven.

21:36.920 --> 21:43.920
Eight. Seven. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight.

21:43.920 --> 21:45.920
Eight? Eight? Eight? Eight? Eight. Eight. Eight. Eight. Eight.

21:45.920 --> 21:47.920
Eight. Eight. Eight. Eight. Eight.

21:47.920 --> 21:48.920
He said, eight.

21:48.920 --> 21:49.920
You heard him.

21:49.920 --> 21:50.920
I heard him.

21:50.920 --> 21:52.920
Eight it is.

21:52.920 --> 21:55.920
Is he dead? Did you kill him?

21:55.920 --> 21:58.920
You think I want to go to the chair?

22:00.920 --> 22:11.920
She went out and didn't notice the side glances that she had ran down the street, her sobs catching in her throat, tears streaking her cheeks.

22:11.920 --> 22:23.920
I killed him. He was bad. He should have been killed.

22:23.920 --> 22:31.920
But they wouldn't understand. I wish it was tomorrow. Tomorrow.

22:31.920 --> 22:36.920
I wish I was asleep. That I wouldn't wake up.

22:36.920 --> 22:44.920
No. Then I'd be dead. She'll be dead at eight o'clock.

22:44.920 --> 22:46.920
She'll be...

22:46.920 --> 22:48.920
Oh, excuse me.

22:48.920 --> 22:51.920
I'm sorry. I'm sorry, officer.

22:51.920 --> 22:52.920
You all right, ma'am?

22:52.920 --> 22:55.920
Yes. Yes, I'm all right.

22:55.920 --> 22:57.920
You sick?

22:57.920 --> 23:01.920
Why? I don't look sick, do I? I'm fine.

23:01.920 --> 23:05.920
You don't want to go wandering out on the street like that. You could get hurt.

23:05.920 --> 23:09.920
Yes, I'm sorry. I'm late. Excuse me.

23:09.920 --> 23:11.920
Sure.

23:11.920 --> 23:26.920
The patrolman looked after her, puzzled, caught the eye of a bystander, shrugged, exchanged an understanding grin and continued his beat.

23:26.920 --> 23:36.920
It was six o'clock when she turned into a quiet cocktail lounge on a side street, needing the drink now to forget to blot out the last two hours of waiting.

23:36.920 --> 23:40.920
She couldn't go home. She knew they'd be waiting for her there.

23:40.920 --> 23:46.920
Not be seen again on the street until it was dark, until after eight o'clock.

23:46.920 --> 23:57.920
And she sat in the shadowed booth, drinking slowly, then faster and faster, hoping for the dulling of sensibilities.

23:57.920 --> 24:01.920
I'm not drunk. And I want to be.

24:01.920 --> 24:05.920
Well, alone. Alone?

24:05.920 --> 24:08.920
Alone? Yes.

24:08.920 --> 24:11.920
Can I, uh, buy you a drink?

24:11.920 --> 24:12.920
A drink?

24:12.920 --> 24:16.920
Oh, it's kind of lonesome sitting here, isn't it?

24:16.920 --> 24:21.920
Oh, waitress.

24:21.920 --> 24:30.920
She drank with him, and he was faceless, nobody. She didn't even care that he sat close to her in the booth, urging her...

24:30.920 --> 24:32.920
How about another drink, honey?

24:32.920 --> 24:40.920
Slyly, insinuating. He said things that she didn't hear. It passed the time.

24:40.920 --> 24:42.920
What's the time?

24:42.920 --> 24:43.920
Oh, it's early.

24:43.920 --> 24:45.920
No, no, no. What time is it?

24:45.920 --> 24:48.920
You got a date? Break it.

24:48.920 --> 24:50.920
I think I'm drunk now.

24:50.920 --> 24:53.920
That's okay. Who is it? We're having fun, are we?

24:53.920 --> 24:55.920
What's the time?

24:55.920 --> 25:01.920
Well, it's, uh, it's seven. What do you care? Hey, how would you like to go now?

25:01.920 --> 25:04.920
What are you giving me?

25:04.920 --> 25:08.920
I killed somebody, and I've got to go.

25:08.920 --> 25:12.920
You're not feeling any pain, honey. Come on, let's have one for the road.

25:12.920 --> 25:14.920
Goodbye.

25:14.920 --> 25:24.920
Outside, it was dusk. She stood swaying for a moment, and the sidewalk tipped under her. She walked slowly, carefully.

25:24.920 --> 25:33.920
In an hour, she'll be dead. In an hour.

25:33.920 --> 25:42.920
I wonder how long it takes to die. I think I know how she must feel now.

25:42.920 --> 25:52.920
Except she won't have to feel anymore. And I'll have to go on like this. Like today. Every day.

25:52.920 --> 25:54.920
She stopped on the corner.

25:54.920 --> 26:07.920
Arrow, beep beep. Arrow, beep beep. Bailey Giller dies tonight. Beep beep.

26:07.920 --> 26:09.920
Paper lady?

26:09.920 --> 26:19.920
No. I don't think so. Is, is there a police station anywhere near here?

26:19.920 --> 26:21.920
Five blocks down, on your right.

26:21.920 --> 26:25.920
Thank you.

26:25.920 --> 26:32.920
It was quarter past seven when she went into the police station and said to the sergeant.

26:32.920 --> 26:37.920
I want to give myself up.

26:37.920 --> 26:52.920
I killed John Bailey.

