Original subtitles

(strong music)

(birds chirping) (suspenseful music)

(sirens blaring)

(phone ringing)

- Hello?

Who is it?

- [The Voice] I'm the one who's supposed to do

the heavy breathing, Kathy, not you,

my divinely tall enchantress.

Is your peerless bosom heaving?

Did I make you run up all those stairs?

- Oh, it's you, didn't I make myself clear?A

I'm not gonna go on listening to you

if you won't tell me who you are.

- [The Voice] Who I am?

But I keep telling you, I'm the light

in your jade green eyes when the sun bursts through

and turns our stone gray city into gold.

I am the lilt in your voice

when you're ashamed with joy,

the bounce in your instep when you stride out,

flaunting a brand new dress.

I am the melting feeling in your tummy

when you hear music so sublimely beautiful,

you want to cry.

I am the secret paramour of your dreams.

Did you get my card?

- Yes, I got it.

Is that what you think I look like?

- [The Voice] I know what you look like.

And now I think it's only fair for you to learn

what I look like.

You are alone, aren't you?

(dramatic music increases)

- Yes, you bastard.

(phone rings)

Hello?

Hello?

(traffic roaring)

(phone rings)

(suspenseful music)

(knocking on the door)

- I'm coming, I'm coming!

What was the hurry, I had to feed the chickens, haven't I?

(gentle acoustic music)

(sheep bleating)

- When Patricia was 10,

I taught her to drive a tractor.

When she was 12, she was strong enough to milk a cow,

better than I could myself.

Now she's gone and got herself a degree in agriculture.

The first in the family ever to do such a thing.

Let's all drink to her health and to her happiness,

because happiness is what she brings us all.

To Patricia.

(dramatic ominous music)

- Why don't you have a real drink, Lar?

You used to be able to drink like a man.

They made a terrible, solemn pisser of you in America, Lar.

- No, I'll be 63 next birthday.

And though I'm good and healthy, thank God,

still, I suppose I need a little bit more rest

than what I used to.

So, I've a little proposal to make.

I would like you, Patricia, to come and live here,

because I decided to leave this house and farm to you.

- Uncle Lar. - Welcome, Patricia.

- It's good of you to think so highly of me.

There's nothing I'd rather do than help you run the farm.

But not yet.

I feel I'm not yet quite ready for the farming life.

I've accepted a teaching job in Dublin.

- That cess pit?

- It's the sort of place I hope where I might wake up

with new thoughts every day.

Just a year, Uncle Lar.

- Well, Patricia,

I suppose you must follow your nose.

Or you'll live forevermore with regrets.

We'll do without you for a year, but no longer.

And we don't want you picking up those city ways up there.

We want the girl we know.

(dramatic music)

(gentle Irish music)

- An unusual position to find the body

in a crime of this sort.

- Yes.

It seems unlikely that the murderer

is a missionary.

- Radioactivity, then, is probably as familiar to you all

as nuclear power or the atomic bomb.

I'll have that lipstick, thank you, Fiona.

With your pretty complexion, I should've thought

you could use something pinker.

Tomorrow we'll start by defining exactly

what an isotope is.

(bell ringing)

Alright, dismissed.

Fiona, don't do it again.

- Thank you.

(boys yelling)

- Cannibals before a feast, following a long hunger.

Miss Teeling, my name is Robert Foxley, the English master.

The headmaster would like you to join us

for his beginning of term pep talk.

Perhaps you'd be free for a drink after?

- Oh, I'd like that.

Please call me Patricia.

- Where do you live, Patricia?

- I've clean forgotten, I've got an appointment

to go see a place in Liza Park at six o'clock.

Been all over town for the last week

without seeing anything I can afford or bear to live in.

♪ Don't know what you want

♪ Look me in the eye and tell me something ♪

♪ I wanna hear

♪ You say you wanna take a drive ♪

♪ Over the bridge to the other side ♪

- I needed that.

- Here, take this home, blow it up at your leisure.

- Now, why should I do that?

- Try it and see.

It can be very relaxing after a grueling day.

But you've got to give it a big puff

to start it off, remember?

- Thank you, bye-bye. - Bye.

(gently dramatic music)

(suspenseful music)

- Mrs. O'Malley.

- Packing up a young life, Inspector,

it's terrible hard.

- We've been through the list of the men your daughter knew.

Did you notice anything unusual in her behavior lately?

(siren blaring)

(Mrs. O'Malley crying)

- Oh, I like it, it has great character.

- I call that bed the grand lit.

It looks fit for a king's mistress.

If you come, we'll have to share it.

I myself wouldn't share with just anyone,

and not everyone would want to share with me.

- It's a tricky business, I agree.

- Shall I show you the rest?

- Oh please.

- Oh, I'm Monica Quigley, by the way,

I'm from Molly Shannon.

It's a bit old-fashioned, I'm afraid.

Do you mind if I ask you a personal question?

- I'll tell you when I hear it.

- Are you,

are you a virgin?

- Are you?

- Well, yes I am, but rather defensive about it,

I must say.

The last girl who shared this flat with me

lost hers when she was here.

The way she'd carried on, you'd think she'd been elected

Miss Ireland, or won the prize for best heifer

at the county fair, more likely.

She tried to make me feel totally inadequate.

So it's not that I expect you to be one,

but I'd really like to know how you feel about it.

- Like a good many other girls,

I gave mine away at college to a man I thought I loved.

I made a mistake.

- The loo.

You said mistake, so it was bad?

- Not at all.

Just discovered that intimate that men are more passionate

than we are.

There was I, blazing away like a forest fire,

while he was just a little candle guttering there

in the dark.

I said to myself they can't all be like that.

I decided to wait.

- So you're still waiting.

Coffee? - Thanks.

- The truth is, I've come to Dublin to look around.

If I find what I'm looking for,

I'm not going up to him to hit him over the head

with my club and drag him back to my cave.

But I am going to make damn sure he knows I'm here.

- Do you think jumping into his bed is the best way?

Cream? - A little.

- I just don't know, because I think we dream of the man

we love before we meet him.

When we finally see him in the flesh,

he is the dream made real.

- What's he like, the man in your dream?

- He is a beautiful rock.

- (laughing) A rock, hard then?

- Always hard.

Not only hard, but strong, reliable, inscrutable.

I mean, where's the excitement in a man

you can read like a book?

An imaginative rock, that's all I want.

(laughing)

- If you want to share this flat with me, you're welcome.

We'll go and tell Mr. Mulally, our idea landlord.

He's about 109, stone deaf,

and thinks of nothing but horses.

Mr. Mullally! Mr. Mullally!

This is Patricia Teeling,

who's going to share the flat with me.

- Welcome, you're very welcome.

Giransole will win at Dunkirk for tomorrow,

if he'd win from a short head from Filly.

- Can I get you anything from the shops tomorrow?

- Last time I rode was at the (mumbles).

I was only an extra, but he said I could handle a horse.

- We must leave you.

- He which has no (mumbles).

- Goodbye!

- All those girls need is a little touch of fairy

in the night.

- The women of Dublin should be on their guard

against a very persuasive stranger.

(lively dance music)

- What do you do then?

- I have a very keen nose.

I sniff for a firm of coffee importers.

- I translate English into Medieval Irish.

I just finished Irish The Great Gatsby.

It was terrible hard finding a publisher for it.

- I'm not surprised, excuse me.

♪ You mean everything to me

♪ Just can't take no more

- I'll be waiting for you.

- It was a wreck tonight, more dogs than the lot of them.

He wasn't even good-looking.

He was dancing with this red-faced girl,

and what does he do but try to relieve himself

against my leg.

I had to tell him this was a dance hall

and not a pumping station.

- Ah, there you are.

(speaking in a foreign language)

- How about a little, shall we say,

(speaking in a foreign language)?

- Thank you very much.

♪ You know those other guys

♪ The things they really feel inside ♪

♪ If you won't show your heart to me ♪

♪ Set me free

♪ Now the time has come

♪ To show you how I feel

- Thank you, monsieur, I enjoyed that immensely.

What do you do when you're not being crossed

between John Travolta and Nurian?

- Well, I'm an osteopath.

Albanian osteopaths, they're very rare, too.

And you?

- I'm a veterinarian, a lady vet,

just as rare, I should say.

I've got to work tomorrow, good night.

- Oh, can I see you home?

- I'm a lone ranger.

I come dancing on me own and go home alone.

But if you want to do me a favor,

you can walk me to the door.

That way Harry Halitosis over there can hardly follow.

- Come on, come on then.

- You must be Patricia Teeling.

- Oh yes.

- I'm Fionnuala Sullivan.

My husband and I drove through earlier.

I wish he was here to help you with your cases.

Let's have a little drink and I'll put these upstairs.

- Oh, how kind you are.

Where I come from in the country,

they all think Dubliners are all so unfriendly.

Marvelous colors.

Signed Sullivan.

Do you or your husband do these?

- I did.

Danny's a writer.

He finds it very hard to write.

I sometimes thinks he just enjoys the idea

of being a writer.

I'm afraid it makes him rather angry.

- Do you regret marrying?

I'm sorry, what a rude question.

- It's okay. - Thank you.

- Danny once told me that I had the face

of a pre-Raphaelite angel.

I didn't know then that he spent words as recklessly

as he spends money.

Yes, I do sometimes regret.

- But you still love him?

- Just occasionally.

Much of the time I hate him.

Marriage is a bed of nails, Patricia.

Don't let anyone ever tell you different.

(suspenseful music)

(keys rattling)

- The American downstairs just came in.

I think he's beating her again.

(birds chirping) (faint upbeat music playing)

(doorbell ringing) - [Man] Yeah, wait a minute.

- Is Fionnuala there?

It's Patricia Teeling from upstairs.

I just wanted to borrow some milk.

It's you.

- Hello there.

Oh listen, I'm Danny Sullivan,

and I'm not the Albanian osteopath.

- Well, I'm not a lady vet, but still.

- Can you tell me how you discovered where I live?

- I moved in upstairs, before I met you.

Where's Fionnuala?

- Gone, visit a friend.

Did I hear you say milk?

What a coincidence, the undisputed queen of the ballroom

turns out to be the girl next door.

- Thank you very much.

- Will you come have that drink with me one evening?

- I don't think so.

- Think, what does that mean, think?

- It means I'm thinking about your wife.

- She's often glad to see the back of me.

- Bye.

♪ Lovers everywhere of strangers ♪

♪ Plying you with cheap champagne ♪

♪ That may not be romance

♪ But just me half a chance

♪ I'd do it all again

♪ Cynics say love leads to danger ♪

♪ Might be wiser to abstain

♪ But if there's bliss in store for me, why resist ♪

- Your wine, monsieur.

♪ I'd do it all again

♪ I should know by now which way the wind blows ♪

♪ Experience has made me weather-wise ♪

♪ So why is it I'm always chasing rainbows ♪

♪ While some sweet talking guy

(man gargling)

♪ That's no reason to complain

- I'm afraid it lacks shoulder.

- Do you mean body, sir?

- Well, as for the body, who knows.

There isn't even a shoulder.

- I'll call the manager sir.

- See, I'm not saying that this is above the milk bottle,

but maybe that's it.

It's quite in articulate.

- I think what you deserve sir

is one of my more judicious wines.

(couple laughing)

- I have a favor to ask you, Patricia.

I'd be very grateful if you'd let me rub your tummy.

- What, whatever for?

- It's very soothing.

When I was a little boy, I suffered from wind.

So my mother would put me lying on my back in bed

and rub my tummy for hours.

- So why do you want to rub mine?

I should have thought you would want someone to rub yours.

- I like you, Patricia.

I just want you to see how nice it is.

This seat tilts back, see?

- I don't feel like it this evening, Robert.

Perhaps another time.

- I'm not very good with women.

I always say or do the wrong thing.

- You're doing very well.

Did you love your mother?

- I was lucky, she died when I was 10,

before I had time to outgrow her.

You'll make a good mother Patricia.

When I saw you on that first day of term,

I said to myself, she's a born mother.

Do you,

do you think it's unnatural for a man to desire a son

from the womb of a particular girl?

To think of that before he thinks of the act

that precedes it?

- It isn't unnatural, exactly.

But it certainly is unusual.

Thank you for a memorable dinner, Robert.

Good night.

- When you think of men, what do you see?

- Usually I see their faces,

some smooth and soft, some hard and lean.

I like the lean ones best.

- For all your experience, you're very pure, Patricia.

When I was 16, I used to imagine men's faces.

But when I began following rugby,

I could only think of their thighs and male appendages.

I used to think that having imaginings like that

was a terrible curse,

till my brother told me he used to always

think of women stark naked.

That is, if he bothered to think about them at all.

- I think what men really value in life

is that we're a captive audience.

They talk such a lot of bull.

(gently dramatic music)

(woman distantly chatting)

- You have not gone to mass this morning.

- It's you.

How do you know, I could have gone earlier.

- You have the air of a contented truant.

Here.

Oh look, those swans remind me of an experience

I once had when I was a boy.

I was walking along the river when I saw seven

big sewer rats, and then they were attacking another one.

Loud casting, fought back as he retreated.

And when he found himself on the bank,

he turned and jumped in.

The others gathered on a large stone and watched

as he swam for the opposite bank.

Well, he was swimming so fast he couldn't have seen

the ladylike swan with three little cygnets

until he was within two feet of her.

They dived to avoid her.

But with a sudden dart of her neck,

she flicked him in the air, just like a coin.

Rat came down on his back, and she picked him up

and flung him once again,

while the three little cygnets clung

in a little cluster behind her.

- So,

what happened then?

- Well, the rat came down, but this time he didn't swim.

The water folded over him.

And for a moment, he floated on the surface,

just a moment, until the current just (slurps)

pulled him under.

(sighs) You know, I think of that incident nearly every day.

- It's a story of a born loser.

- Somehow I have the odd feeling

that's the story of my life.

- Have you written about it?

- No, no, things that matter to me as a man,

I just can't face as a writer.

- Maybe you will.

- Will you have that drink with me now?

- Mm-hm. - Yeah.

- [Reporter] New evidence has emerged in the investigation

into the murder of Kathy O'Malley,

the Garda announced today.

Police wish to hear from anyone who may have received

disturbing, anonymous telephone calls

over the last two weeks.

They have reason to believe the murder of Kathy O'Malley

may be linked to another as-of-yet unsolved murder.

- I can sense this wall between myself

and everything I do.

I know there's a wind blowing.

But I can't feel it on my face.

Indifference, it's not like paralysis.

Oh Patricia, I think you could help me.

I need to talk to someone with the gift

of first-hand experience.

All I need is to meet you for a drink, conversation,

now and again.

- We'll see.

(light acoustic music)

Absolutely no hawkers or solicitors today.

This is the Sabbath, have you no respect?

- Danny.

Ow.

I brought some red wine and cheese.

Anyway, what was that all about?

- Sh, I'm writing a weightless story

for the New Yorker Magazine about bums,

which you Irish call tinkers.

Anyway, it's the last paragraph.

I'll be just a minute.

(typewriter keys clacking)

Oh yes, the kitchen, it's through there.

- Have you ever sold a story to The New Yorker before?

- [Danny] No, no I haven't.

But a fellow I met in the pub I met last night told me

I could live in comfort on three New Yorker stories a year.

Think about it, only 12,000 words.

- Why does he need so many scalpels?

- Hmm? - The man who lives here.

- Is he a butcher or a surgeon?

- He's a gay engineer, and I'm looking after his cats

while he's skiing somewhere in Switzerland.

But I do see what you mean.

Perhaps he's the Dublin Ripper in his spare time.

- (giggling) I think you brought me here

under false pretenses.

You said you needed inspiration,

but you finished your story.

Did you simply want someone to bring you lunch?

- No.

No, I've asked you here to help me conduct

a little experiment.

Come here, sit beside me, come here.

I'm not going to touch you.

You're a suspicious creature.

Now I don't know if I've ever mentioned this to you before,

but I happen to be a very keen dowser.

- [Patricia] You look for water with a hazel rod?

- Among other things, I sometimes look

for metal, for example.

Now I want to perform a dowsing experiment on you.

- [Patricia] And what do I do while you're dowsing?

- I'm going to ask you to hide a coin,

a 10 penny piece in your underclothes.

And with the help of my dowsing rod

I am going to find it, ha ha ha.

Watch, watch, watch. - Wait.

- No, this is how it works.

Oh you see, you see, watch.

Oh, there's something down there, uh oh, uh oh, oh!

Obviously your bladder.

- Well, I must say you're a trier, an original, too.

- I'm perfectly serious.

Here's a 10 penny piece.

I'm going to leave the room while you lie on the sofa.

All right, all right.

All right.

No, no, not in your clothes, no.

No, in your underclothes.

And you'll have plenty of time to use your imagination,

because I have to make a phone call.

(gentle music)

(door creaking)

- [Danny] You don't know me.

I follow you every day, walking behind you

as you shop for groceries.

I know your crystal glass ankles,

that crimson skirt of yours,

the one that clings so beguilingly to your ass.

Like an aqua knight, I raise your chestuble and have you

over a parked Toyota.

I like the erotic wrinkles of your crotchless panties.

Why crotchless panties, you may, in your innocence ask?

Well, if they weren't crotchless, how could I have you

while you're waiting for the traffic light to change?

Now, you must go shopping tomorrow at 3:32 p.m.

Then I will have you twice

before the post office clock chimes four.

Look, where I come, the floor of cream-colored blood,

marbling the glorious crimson of your ass.

- Hello? Hello?

All right, don't answer if you don't want to.

But let me tell you, he's just a crazy panty fetishist.

Hello?

How can you frighten some innocent girl

with your disgusting ravings?

- That was my wife.

If a man can't make an obscene phone call to his wife,

what the hell is the world coming to, anyway?

- Did she know it was you?

- No, no, she thought it was Albanian osteopath.

Look Patricia, it'd hurt her terribly if she knew the truth.

That's why I cut the phone wire.

- You're the Albanian osteopath!

Oh Lord, the whole thing's so slimy enough,

I can't wait to get home and take a bath.

Now you've seen your pair of panties for the day.

You can go off to the loo and relieve yourself,

because I'm going home!

- Patricia, you don't understand.

Last August, Fionnualla started getting obscene phone calls

from a man describing himself as an Albanian osteopath.

At first she was afraid and asked me to listen on the phone.

Gradually, she started looking forward to the phone calls.

Finally, she wouldn't let me listen at all.

Okay, okay, last Christmas, the phone calls stopped.

Fionnuala gets depressed, Patricia.

Look, she didn't even let me answer the phone.

She thought every time it rang, it was for her.

I'm telling you the truth, Patricia!

- After you left this morning, Robert Foxley called

unexpectedly to suggest that we go for a walk.

You don't mind my going out with him, do you?

- Bless you, my children, is all I can say.

Did he want to stroke your tummy?

- I'm afraid he did.

In fact, he keeps wanting me to take what he describes

as his macro penis in my hand.

- And did you oblige him?

- I said I might,

if he swaddled it in cling wrap first.

I was afraid it would be like handling a stick of dynamite,

not knowing when it would detonate.

(quirky music)

(gentle suspenseful music)

(banging) (woman screaming)

Sounds as if Sullivan's being particularly brutal tonight.

- I didn't think he was here.

- Oh, I almost forgot.

I passed Fionnuala on the stairs this evening.

She wants you to come and have a drink with her

after school, something important to tell you.

(doorbell ringing) (gentle harp music)

- Fionnuala, are you there?

Fionnuala, Danny, anyone at home?

Danny, hello?

Fionnuala?

Strange.

Hello?

(dramatic music building)

Fionnuala?

Fionnuala?

(Patricia gasping and retching)

(police radio scratching)

(gentle dramatic music)

- If you change your mind, don't hesitate to telephone.

My Aunt Shelia says there's plenty of room

and you're very welcome.

Are you all right, are you sure?

- Now, tell me about Danny Sullivan.

Danny Sullivan?

- We have drinks together sometimes.

I already told you I saw him yesterday at the place

he was housesitting in Booterstown.

We had a sort of row.

- A row, what?

- He wanted...

I think he may have hoped to make love to me.

But I may have misinterpreted his intentions.

We Irish girls aren't as worldly as you might be.

For what it's worth, I can't imagine Danny being capable

of murdering anyone.

- We don't at the moment have enough evidence

to suspect him of being a murderer, Miss Teeling.

From what your roommate told me

when I interviewed her earlier,

I'm fairly certain that you both heard the murder.

- That noise as we were going to sleep?

- When you found her, Fionnuala Sullivan had been dead

for at least 15 hours.

- God rest her.

- Death, my friends, tries its best to rival procrastination

as the thief of time.

But death is only a would-be thief

because of the resurrection.

He can filch the decaying body,

but the glorious spirit runs like water through his fingers.

- Lies.

Lies.

Lies.

Lies.

- Death has no more dominion over our dear departed sister

Fionnuala. - Dead, dead, dead.

- She's as dead as a trussed turkey.

- He's an atheist.

- He's overwrought.

- You're Patricia, aren't you?

I'm from the Mail.

You can make a sum, a bit of money, Pat.

- What, I don't know what you're talking about.

- One, I bet you've got a theory about the murder.

Two, I bet you could give me a handy description

about Fionnuala and the sort of men she liked.

Three, I bet you're frightened to death of staying

in this place.

You give me any one of those stories,

and I'll write you a nice, fat check

right here on your doorstep. (laughs)

- I really gave it to that little vulture.

Vulture!

Jesus, I'd almost given up on the human race.

- Oh Danny, why didn't you tell the truth

about the phone calls at the inquest?

- Why didn't you contradict me?

- I keep asking myself that question.

And I think it's because of a gut feeling

that you're innocent, and that...

- And that?

- And that I'd be dead myself if you were guilty.

(phone ringing)

Hello?

- [The Voice] I'd like to speak to Miss Teeling.

- This is she.

- [The Voice] I have something to tell you about yourself,

something you may never have realized.

The universe is your box of toys.

You dabble your fingers in the day fall.

You are gold dusty with tumbling,

a good word amongst the stars.

You make brightness your (newspapers rattling).

With your broken fancies, you run wild

over the fields of ether.

You are my secret passion.

And not even he who chases the rolling world

can take you away from me.

With a kiss for every breath you will draw

until you hear again from me, I give you goodbye.

- Hello, Danny?

Is that you?

- Oh and get them to put a tap on Sullivan's phone.

- We'll need a warrant for that.

- I know, get it. - Okay.

- I'm very glad you got on to us.

I'd been going over the evidence you gave at the inquest

with great care, and I think you may have missing pieces

of the jigsaw puzzle, even though you don't know it.

- Oh, I've been quite sure I've told you

everything I know.

- You are quite sure that Danny Sullivan was not your lover?

- I know he was not.

It's not something about which I can imagine

being unsure.

- If you had to single out

a quality of Danny Sullivan's that most struck you,

what would it be?

- Innocence.

He has a degree of innocence

of which no Irishman can conceive.

- Innocence, Miss Teeling?

- Well, let's call it purity of spirit.

He's that rare bird these days, a romantic.

- For that reason, if for no other,

you should beware of Danny Sullivan, Miss Teeling.

Now did the voice on the

telephone sound like Mr. Sullivan?

- I don't believe so.

It was the voice of a superior news reader,

or a lector in a cathedral reading something grand

like Isaiah or St. Paul,

a dark syrupy voice.

If Danny could do it, I'd say he missed his vocation.

- Interesting.

Now I'm not trying to alarm you,

but I am asking you to be on your guard

and to remember that I shall not be far away.

Now and then you may see me

or Sergeant Forley in the distance.

All it means is that we're looking after you.

- Goodbye, Inspector. - Goodbye, Miss Teeling.

- Your breath, Inspector, smells of,

I thought it was pipe tobacco, but it was of

sweet basil, delicious.

(gentle music)

- [Mother] Dear Patricia,

I wish you had listened to your mom for once

and not gone gallivanting up to Dublin.

Your cousin who is down from Donegal

staying with your Uncle Lar,

and may be thinking of taking your place altogether.

It's high time you came home and visit.

Yous got your uncle back in the drinking game,

and him a teetotaler these 20 years.

- Reckon you're not used to this.

- Used to it?

My mom and I did this for my dad

more times than I care to remember.

I never participated, sit (shrieking).

There's an act to this, hard to remember.

(Uncle Lar mumbling)

- No, stay, have a drink.

- I'm going back to Dublin, good night.

- You're a cold fish, teach, snob.

(gentle Irish music)

(doorbell ringing)

- Danny, care to go to Punchestown?

- To the races? - To the races.

- Fantastic, I'll be right there.

I thought of slashing my wrists from boredom.

But you talked me out of it.

I thought you were somewhere in the country?

- Country life is not what it used to be.

- What happened, did you have a row with your uncle?

- No, I decided the Guinness is better in town.

- Oh, what a girl you are, Patricia, oh.

Let's go win a fortune.

Suddenly you've made me feel lucky.

(lively music)

♪ Won't you come home with me

♪ Won't you come home

♪ You've been away too long

- Papal Slipper jumped like a cat at Leopardstown.

Would've won, too, if it hadn't rained that night.

- I was talking to a stable lad this morning,

and he said he has this human side, too.

He wanders around the yard,

puts his head into the kitchen door.

This morning, the trainer's boy burned some toast.

And you won't believe this now,

but he ate a bit of it for his breakfast.

- I'm following those guys.

I had burned toast for breakfast.

I must put money on Papal Slipper

before the odds start to shorten.

Now don't move, don't move a muscle, I'll be right back.

Our fortunes are made.

- And what's your choice for the big race?

- Number four, I was thinking about Papal Slipper.

- If I were you, I'd put your money on Phlogiston,

number three.

- But Phlogiston is a ranked outsider.

He's 40 to one.

What about Papal Slipper?

They say he's had burned toast for breakfast.

- It's burned toast, Miss Teeling,

but 10 pounds of rolled oats.

- Is that bad?

- It isn't good.

You should be more careful where you get your information.

And if you'll forgive a policeman for speaking frankly

in the course of his duty,

and more careful in the company you keep.

Now when I saw you last, you spoke of Sullivan's innocence.

Remember, the innocence of the truly mad is legendary.

(people chattering)

- [Announcer] The white dragon's been raised,

and they're off.

In the early stages, Plyman's Lunch is the leader

with Kiss Me Quick and Master's Mate also prominent.

Papal Slipper up with them, too, as they come down

past the stands, away from the first fence in the gray.

Plyman's Lunch the leader.

Phlogiston moving up on the far slide.

Then Papal Slipper, then a gap to Kiss Me Quick.

Behind Kiss Me Quick comes Master's Knee.

Back in view and going down the far side,

away from that bank, Phlogiston has moved up

to take the lead.

Papal Slipper coming alongside - Phlogiston!

as they go to the next.

Papal Slipper makes a bad mistake, and he's down.

Papal Slipper is gone.

He's hampered a few and and Aaron Nicola comes through

to lead over the fifth room home.

Phlogiston moving up - Phlogiston!

and moving into second place.

Smacking Progress beginning to make round just behind him.

Zroom Baba coming into it on the outside.

Calico Boy is next.

A slow jump there by Smacking Progress,

but Phlogiston jumped it really well.

Our preferred last, Aaron Nickel the leader,

Phlogiston second, and Smacking Progress made a mistake.

The rider did very well to stay in the saddle.

Going away now from the second last fence,

Phlogiston moving up smoothly - Phlogiston!

as they straighten for the final fence.

Aaron Nickel still the leader.

Phlogiston coming very strongly on the far side.

Sanford's Paradise, and Melodrama there as well, too.

Racing down towards the final fence now.

And Phlogiston has been been switched to the stand side

as Sanford's Paradise comes to challenge between them.

A mistake by Sanford's Paradise,

but he's away from the fence in front.

Fighting back from the stand is Phlogiston.

They're neck-in-neck as they race inside the last 250 yards.

Sanford's Paradise with Phlogiston on the near side,

as Ferry closed between them - Phlogiston!

as they go to the line.

A very close one, a photo finish.

- To Phlogiston, may he live forever

in a perfect stud farm, and cover more beautiful mares

than any other stallion ever dreamed of.

- Unfortunately, poor Phlogiston is a gelding.

But I'm not.

Shall we go home to bed?

- You already know my answer to that.

- Patricia, if you think I'm just looking

for some quick nookie, you're wrong.

Did I ever tell you that ever since the inquest,

I've had the feeling that damned inspector

has been following me?

See him there?

- I do, I rather like his face.

- He's just trying to upset me.

He walks like a barnacle goose.

I call him Goosefoot.

Let's go bait him with a little probing wit, shall we?

- Oh, you must be mad. - Come on, come on.

- Come on, come on.

♪ I drew away from the hustling crowd ♪

♪ And all that rat race noise that fill the street ♪

- Where's he gone?

♪ The only place I know

♪ Where you'd like to wait

- Do you mind if we join you?

- Not at all.

- Oh, we were having fun over on the other side.

Well, we saw you all alone,

so we thought we'd come over here

and spread a little sweetness and light.

- Two elusive, but fine qualities.

You might find you have abundance in one corner,

only to discover they've deserted you

by the time you cross the room.

- Tell me, have you ever heard of goosefoot?

- I know it as well as my own name.

But have you heard of goosefooting,

sometimes called first footing?

It's common in the north.

Presbyterians who celebrate the Scottish feast of Hogmanay

sometimes mistake a Catholic house for one of their own.

They cross the threshold, expecting to kiss the lassies,

but are promptly goosed by the head of the family

for their pains.

- The goosefoot that I have in mind has nothing to do

with Irish tribal warfare.

No, it's a weed-like, evil smelling plant

with a leaf like the foot of a goose.

- Now there you're quite wrong, Danny.

It is the common name for some members

of the Chenopodioideae,

lot of important vegetables.

- I was going to say, doesn't it include spinach?

- Absolutely, and mango wars and some beets.

- You know, well, I think I've been seeing a lot of you

recently, Inspector, what's your name again?

- Inspector Goosefoot, but minor, I thought you know.

A policeman by profession, but birdwatching is my real love.

I'm fond of watching the nocturnal birds, you know,

the birds of prey.

- Danny, I'm feeling rather tired.

This has been a momentous day.

- [Inspector] Oh, must you go so soon?

- Goodbye.

- I was beginning to enjoy our little chat.

(phone ringing) (gentle dramatic music)

- Hello?

- [The Voice] How refreshing it was to walk down

Pembrooke Road at your side today.

The swing of your pleated skirt was like the swing

of the open sea.

You wore the breezes of the country

as you paused by the Grand Canal.

I stood at your shoulder,

breathing the fragrance of your hair

as you watched the lock gates spill and spew.

You turned for home, and again I went with you,

envying every pavement slab that bore the pressure

of your heel.

I love you, Patricia. (phone clicks)

(Patricia sighs)

(choirboy singing)

(boys choir singing)

- A few words from the Holy Gospel

according to Saint John from chapter 20,

beginning at verse four.

So they both ran together,

and the other disciple did outrun Peter,

and came first to the sepulcher.

And he, swooping down, looking in--

- [The Voice] Saw the linen clothes lying.

Yet he went not in.

The meteors nuzzled their noses in your hand.

You tease into growling the kenneled thunder, Patricia.

The orbs of heaven are your eyes.

- Then went he in also, that other disciple,

which came first to the sepulcher.

And he saw and believed.

(Irish dance music)

- [Cousin] What are you gonna have?

- A large whiskey, if you will.

Will you have a whiskey, too, Patricia?

- It will, tonight's the night I graduate

from stout to whiskey.

It's been a hard week.

- Right, hey Peter, can I have a pint of Guinness,

a large and small stout, please?

Thank you.

- You're a rare girl, Patricia.

I was afraid I was in for a lecture from you.

And here you are, keeping me company.

We must celebrate your homecoming.

- I don't believe it.

- I got up this morning, found you gone,

so I decided it was time for me to explore the country.

I took a room upstairs.

- Uncle Lar, this is Danny Sullivan from Dublin.

- Pleased to meet you, sir.

- Likewise, sir.

- And this, Danny, is my cousin Hugh.

- Slainte. - Aye.

- What's this, spinach?

- No, it's goosefoot.

You've never heard of it before?

It's very good when the leaves are young.

It's an odd name for it, I suppose, isn't it?

- Do you always eat so late, or so early?

Plays hell with your stomach.

- I won't be able to sleep right,

unless I sit down for a good bast before turning in.

Tell me,

are you one of these fellas that writes for the newspapers

and their lives sound like one disaster after another,

you know, a farmer killed by tractor,

husband murdered his wife.

- He writes fiction, Uncle Lar, short stories.

- Ah, stories, is it?

I think he'd like the story about Red Morgan.

(Hugh speaking with mouth full)

- You know, when I went to America first,

I worked for this stock farmer called Red Morgan.

One day, his wife vanished, she never came back.

He scoured the countryside for miles around,

no sign of her.

And then, it was nine years later, Red Morgan died,

left me his farm.

He had no family himself.

Then one day, Danny, one day I was crossing the path,

and I noticed my dog sniffing

around this old red tar barrel.

I trust to have a look,

and I noticed where the rust had eaten a hole

through the side of the barrel.

There was this bone sticking out.

I looked in the barrel, and there was this human skeleton.

Red Morgan killed his wife, put her in the barrel,

and sealed it up again.

Red Morgan, and that old barrel at the end of his paddock,

as a mausoleum to admire every day till the day he died.

I bet you, Danny, there's lots of murderers like him

walking around today, scot-free.

- You would think that a murderer would have cold eyes.

- Ah no, not a bit.

Red Morgan isn't the only murderer I've known.

No difference in their eyes between Danny's there

and my own.

Anyway, most murderers are at an impasse.

What do you think, Dan?

- I'll tell you what I think!

I think you think you're very clever, talk of murder.

You even talk of goosefoot!

- Danny sit down, there's something--

- You've got a lot of nerve after misleading me

the way you have.

It was Uncle Lar this, Uncle Lar that.

What do I find when I get here?

A wicked old man with the cunning of the devil.

All he can do is follow me with his hinting.

- That's enough!

- Oh, I've been goaded before and I haven't budged.

Now it's your turn to worry, Patricia.

Sleep on that, if you can.

- What did you put in his Guinness?

- Danny, please, let me drive you back to the pub.

- I know perfectly well where I'm going.

And you are the last person I wanna take with me.

- Danny, please.

- You kept me dangling for six months

while you philosophize about your precious twat.

- Please don't say that. - You're not a woman.

- No, you're a monster! - Please don't say that!

- Prick-teasing tomboy.

- Danny, don't, please don't.

- Don't touch me, bitch! - Please don't say that, no!

(birds chirping)

(dramatic music)

- [Woman] Oh, it's an emergency (mumbling).

- I didn't think he'd go so quick.

- What is it?

- Lar's dead.

- Must have been that big dinner we had,

laid heavy on his heart.

I heard a noise in his room, but when I got there,

he was dead.

- The will is very simple.

It says in effect, the farm in its entirety

is left to Hugh Teeling.

- It's all right, Mom.

(sad, dramatic music)

(beeping)

- [The Voice] You've led me down the labyrinthian ways

of your own mind, but still I'm there.

There is no escape from my inevitable embrace, Patricia.

I have touched the sheets that kiss your body every night.

I have breathed the scent of you from the most intimate

of your garments.

Wherever you go, in the city or countryside,

in the echo of your footfalls, listen for my footsteps,

for they are always there.

For behind you and beside you,

around you and within you, I am there.

(doorbell ringing)

Wherever you go, it is only a matter of time

until you are wholly mine.

(gentle suspenseful music)

(dramatic music building in intensity)

(music building in suspense)

(thunder rumbling)

Turned for home, and again I went with you,

envying every pavement slab that bore the pressure

of your heel.

I love you, Patricia.

(dogs barking)

(church bells ringing)

- Inspector McMyler.

I tried to phone you at your office, but--

- Oh, I'm off-duty today.

- I had another phone call,

and a visitor, I'm not sure who.

I escaped out the back way--

- Poor Miss Teeling, you're having a bad time of it.

Do come in and have a drink, a glass of wine.

Tell me all about it.

That's right, and check it out at once, will you?

And keep me informed, right.

Well, Sergeant Forley is on his way

to look into this matter.

Now how's your drink going.

- Oh, I'm fine. - Just a drop.

- Thanks. - There, no harm in that.

- Do you live alone, Inspector?

- I used to share with my sister, who died four years ago.

Now, quite alone.

- When do you listen to music?

- Only on Sunday mornings.

When the sun is up, I play Handel and Corelli.

And I play Bach mid-rinse.

- Bach, I love Bach.

What beautiful binding.

The Tibetan Book of the Dead.

- An ancient Buddhist guide to the afterlife.

You should read it.

I think you'll find it reassuring.

I do, I'm so often close to the business of dying.

- You are?

- Only in my work, you know.

- Oh, of course. (giggling)

This has been very pleasant.

That drink, just what I needed.

Did you say Sergeant Forley will be waiting?

I suppose I better be off now.

- Well, if he's found anything untoward, he'll let me know.

We have an officer waiting for you, don't worry.

Just before you go, would you like to see

a little hobby of mine?

- Mm, yes.

- Good, it's just through here.

(suspenseful music)

- Why'd you lock the door?

- So we won't be disturbed.

As you can see, I've been preoccupied with you, Patricia.

Patricia, for nine very happy months.

I know this must come as a shock.

- I had no idea.

- How could you know?

You thought I was keeping an eye on Sullivan,

whereas my only wish was to be near you.

- Why didn't you tell me?

If only I'd known.

- It wouldn't have been the same.

I wanted to have you for myself.

But because of my nature, I had to go the long way around.

- Oh, you have me now.

- Do you like my pictures?

- They're very professional.

I had no idea I looked so soulful.

- I'd seen you come out of Fionnuala Sullivan's house.

And then I saw you in Grafton Street,

waiting to cross the road.

You're actually most spiritual with the wind in your hair.

And that is back at the pub,

and you were holding your cigarette in a tin,

from which you kept your loose change.

It was as though all you required in life

could be contained in a two-ounce tobacco tin.

And that's when I really fell in love with you.

- In love?

- Oh, if only you could see your skirts a-sway.

No, skirts that swirl like a stately ship of tarsis.

- So it was you that made all those literary phone calls?

They were wonderfully poetic.

I really think I should go now.

- Oh, of course, of course.

But before you go, I want to take a picture

of you as La Morphy,

the lady in the picture over the bed.

Before I met you, she was my ideal of Irish womanhood,

Mary Louise O'Murphy.

She rose, or lay down, to become one of Louis XV

of France's favorite mistresses.

I want to take a photograph of you in that position.

I'm certain that your lady body is even lovelier than hers.

- Oh no, please, I'm not at all beautiful naked.

My hips are too wide.

My breasts are too small.

Do you realize I don't even know your first name?

- Seamus, are you frightened, Patricia?

(gentle music)

- Do, do knives interest you at all?

Nothing in my view, not gold, not silver, not platinum,

is as beautiful as tempered steel.

The blue tinge it has, the coldness to the touch.

(dramatic musical bursts)

The sharpness of it.

I want you to undress, Patricia.

That's grand, now look at the picture, Patricia.

See how her leg, her right leg, stretched out there.

And bring the other one just down a bit,

over the edge of the couch.

Now your left arm out a little bit.

And the other one up high.

That's, oh that's beautiful, beautiful, Patricia.

Bold, brave Patricia.

Inside you're very, very frightened,

but you're too proud to show it.

And I admire that.

(lively music)

Ah, that's terrific, terrific.

Now, that's right, now your chin up, just a fraction.

That's it, that's it.

Now look, no, no, don't smile, don't smile.

That's beautiful, yes.

That's it.

Now another one, just like that.

Lift your head a little bit more.

That's it, that's the one.

Now imagine, imagine I'm the horny king himself,

coming to give you the great honor of enjoying you.

That's it, oh that's grand, yes.

Beautiful, Patricia.

Now one more just like that, hold it.

That's it, that's beautiful, Patricia.

That's grand, Patricia, terrific.

Stay like that, now the head up a little bit more.

Just a few more.

Raise your head, just a little bit.

Moisten your lips, that's it.

That's grand.

You have a sort of aura about you.

That's it, terrific.

Wonderful.

You know, the painter Rubens tends to give his women

dimples at the top of their rear cleft.

I mention it because I find yours very affecting.

(screeching dramatic music)

I find sometimes that fear makes the flesh go cold.

Oh, it isn't just some metaphor from some old thriller,

her blood ran cold.

It did because right here,

they get a cold sweat, they really do.

Not surprising, you're warm and dry, Patricia.

Oh now, I've gone and marked your back with my own blood.

I'm so sorry.

(dreamy suspenseful music)

(hands slapping flesh)

(twinkling dramatic music)

(ticking and clanking)

- I'll see you tomorrow evening at eight, then.

You should put some alcohol on that thumb to disinfect it.

(seagulls screeching)

I came to fetch the (speaking in a foreign language).

Hope you're well, love Robert.

(clocks ticking)

(gentle Irish music)

Dear Sergeant, I'm leaving on the nine o'clock ferry

for England tonight.

I'm so afraid.

I've just come face-to-face with the murderer.

You'll think I'm raving mad when I tell you.

It is none other than your own Inspector McMyler.

(boat horn blaring)

(Patricia yelling) (dramatic music)

- Think you can fake this Patricia, you trifled with me.

You drank my wine and promised to come back for more.

It's too late now, isn't it?

(Patricia screaming)

Patricia!

Patricia, help me!

For God's sake, help me!

(people chatting)

- Man overboard!

(dramatic music)

(gentle Irish music)

(operatic singing)