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[♪]

♪ My torture is over ♪

♪ It's your time to cry ♪

♪ Got only one dream now ♪

♪ My fans must die ♪

♪ Fan kill ♪

♪ The only justice I know ♪

♪ Fan kill ♪

♪ You reap what you sow ♪

♪ Love me, baby Love me, baby ♪

♪ It's your turn to cry ♪

♪ Love me, baby Love me, baby ♪

♪ It's your turn to die ♪

♪ Love me, baby Love me, baby ♪

♪ It's your turn to cry ♪

♪ Love me, baby Love me, baby ♪

♪ It's your turn to die ♪

♪ Fan kill ♪

♪ The only justice I know ♪

♪ Fan kill ♪

♪ Fan kill ♪

NARRATOR: He was brought across in 1228...

Preyed on humans for their blood.

Now he wants to be mortal again...

To repay society for his sins...

To emerge from his world of darkness...

From his endless forever night.

Where the hell is she?

What is she doing, trying to ruin her career?

I mean, does she have any idea what triple overtime costs?

All right, pull this...

We're going to start without her.

Wendy, come here.

It is Wendy, isn't it?

Yeah, Marty, it's Wendy.

Yeah, well, I know it's Wendy.

I want you to go find one of her wigs.

I want you to stand in.

We're going to set the lights.

Rock and roll.

What, this is funny to you?

Come on, captain.

This is what it's all about.

Shake it up, let it burn.

Even if it means back-to-back double shifts?

Wait, back-to-back shifts?

Doubles.

Look at this place.

There's nobody around.

I'm bringing in the night shift early.

Don't you think

you're overreacting a little bit?

Have you seen this video?

Well, actually, no, I haven't.

I don't get the chance

to watch the rock channel much anymore.

It's not that I don't like rock--

I do, I like it--

but the fact is I'm busy.

You know, Myra, the kid...

[GUITAR WARMING UP]

Stop!

Stop.

Has anyone even bothered

to check the hotel?

She has the switchboard picking up.

Tell them to put the call through

or I'm not putting the paychecks through.

I think they'll understand that, okay?

And, Bree,

tell her she better come down here.

I don't care if she's drunk.

I don't care if she's dead.

I want her here now.

["FAN KILL" PLAYING]

They've been running it non-stop for the last 24 hours.

♪ You reap what you sow ♪

I guess someone forgot to tell her

they call it "underwear" for a reason.

All right.

"My fans must die."

Rebecca, baby.

Controversial or what?

Rebecca's in Toronto kicking off her 52-city tour

and already,

we're getting a lot of reaction.

She's a self-indulgent, nihilistic brat,

that's what she is,

and no, it is not cool,

and no, it is not just an innocent entertainment.

It's a stupid and dangerous attitude.

No kidding.

Like, we love her, and she wants to kill us?

Like, a really nice way to say thanks, Rebecca.

That's right, man.

Like, who the hell does she think she is?

I mean, like, kill her, man.

Like, she's totally dissing her fans.

Maybe she should die.

Are you going to her concert?

Freaking right, man.

That gives you an idea of the problem.

Raging adolescent hormones?

Death threats.

Oh, come on, captain.

You're not taking those kids seriously, are you?

I mean, this is probably the reaction

Rebecca wants to get.

It sells records.

It's show biz.

You're overreacting.

16 community church groups want to shut the concert down.

100,000 paying customers want the show to go on,

and maybe half of those want to take a shot at her,

so I've got a dozen uniforms

over at her hotel covering crowd control,

and I've still got to put cops out into the streets

to deal with the city.

What do you think I should do, Schanke?

Perhaps bring in the night shift...

pronto?

Want some more coffee?

There you go.

There you go.

There's two clubs, no mayo.

Thanks, Charlie.

Here you go, everybody.

Have a nice lunch.

And there you go.

I know this a big step for you,

but don't you think you might be overdoing it just a tad?

You've got no idea what it's like

to have lived almost 800 years

and never have tasted a French fry.

Pass me the ketchup, will you?

Okay.

Thanks.

Brace yourself.

I'm about to join the ranks of humanity.

[HEART BEATING]

Nat...

it's blood.

Y'all want a little coffee

to wash that down?

[HEARTBEAT SUBSIDES]

Yeah, yeah, thanks.

[HEART BEATING]

Drink up, Nicholas.

You know it's what you really want.

[TELEPHONE RINGING]

Go away.

Yeah, Nick Knight.

I'm either in bed or incommunicado,

so if you want to leave your name and number,

go ahead.

[ANSWERING MACHINE BEEPS]

Schanke: Knight?

Knight?

Hey, Nick, rise and shine.

Stonetree's sweating blood.

Duty calls.

I know you're much too cool

to come out and play in the daytime.

Whoever this is,

this room better be on fire, or you're looking for a job.

Rebecca, it's Bree.

I'm at the stadium.

[SIGHS]

Who's playing? Anybody good?

I'm not kidding.

He's borderline hysterical.

Tell Marty that male hysteria

is a definite sign

of infantile genitalia, would you?

The car's waiting for you out front.

Yeah, yeah.

All right.

[PHONE HITS FLOOR]

Oh, damn.

You're needed down at the station

now, pronto...

Go away.

So stop doing whatever the hell it is

you do in that high-tech dungeon of doom of yours,

and get your butt down here, okay?

Hasta la bye-bye.

[GROANS]

Thank you, Santa,

but what I really wanted was ice skates.

Look, uh, whatever your name is,

I'm sure the earth moved for both of us,

but, uh, now it's time to turn back into a pumpkin,

so please...

get out.

What time is it?

What day is it?

What century is it?

Well, I think I'll have the continental breakfast.

Ah, yes.

Good morning, lover.

Here's to my health.

[SIZZLES]

[LIGHT POP MUSIC PLAYING]

Isn't Knight here yet?

He's on his way.

He'll be here any minute.

His car's parked out front.

Oh, yeah?

Okay, I'm out of here.

RADIO ANNOUNCER: Stay tuned.

Up next is B.T.O.

Yes, finally, some rock and roll.

Your easy listening station.

Rock and roll.

[HONKS]

Question.

Would you ever consider Bachman Turner Overdrive

easy listening?

Can we get out of here, please?

Nice outfit.

Don't you think you're overreacting a little

to this ozone thing?

Not really. Drive.

Rebecca, you have four interviews

this afternoon,

three on camera,

and you look like a zombie.

Have you been to a barbecue

or something?

Would you just drive?

Seriously.

B.T.O., easy listening?

I think not.

You smell like a distillery.

Cut that sound check.

You're going to have to lip-synch tonight.

Rebecca...

Why do you want to make this hell?

Where are we going, Schanke?

Day shift's swamped,

plus they found a body at the Royal Astor Hotel.

Two days they have not let me go inside the room to clean.

Finally,

they put the maid service sign outside the door.

I go in, and...

Stabbing.

Very nice, neat little rows.

The weapon's on the table over there.

Do we know who he is?

We didn't think we should touch anything.

You thought right.

Billy Conway.

Is he registered at the hotel?

I don't know who he is or how he arrived.

He's just...

here.

That's all you can tell us?

So you figure, uh...

You figure the guy popped in here

around bedtime,

scarfed down

the chocolate mints on the pillow,

and did a swan dive onto a bowie knife?

Detective Schanke,

this is our criterion floor.

It's our staff policy

not to question the private...

predilections of our VIP guests.

Even if that includes murder?

I can see why this is a five-star crib.

He's been dead about 12 hours.

No signs of a struggle,

but I can't tell you much more than that

till I get him into the lab.

So you tried to get in the room but you couldn't.

I haven't changed the bed linens

for two days.

I tried,

but she never let nobody in,

not nobody.

She? I thought this room was registered to a...

Harrison Templeton.

Yeah, to a Harrison Templeton.

Our VIP guests often register under a false name

to protect their privacy.

Okay, let's start at the top.

Just whose room is this?

Oh, come on.

You mean you guys don't know?

[♪]

♪ The torture is over ♪

♪ It's your time to cry ♪

♪ Got only one dream now ♪

♪ My fans must die ♪

♪ Fan kill ♪

♪ The only justice I know... ♪

[ROCK MUSIC PLAYING]

How do you like that, huh?

The ultimate backstage pass?

I would have given my left butt cheek

to have one of these in '66

when the Beatles kicked off their tour in Chicago

at the Universal Amphitheater.

Now, that, that was a concert.

I dreamed of being up there with them.

John, Paul, George...

and Schanke.

She really cooks, huh?

Saw Bachman Turner Overdrive

a few years ago.

They were great.

They had a big hit song.

Um...

[HUMMING]

Something like that.

It was in E.

Oh, yeah.

I think my dad had that album.

Feeling your age, Schanke?

Never, never, never.

Fighting it all the way.

Think Mick Jagger ever feels old?

Well, I don't know about Mick, but I know

I sure as hell sometimes do.

Uh, let's just bottom-line this, okay, gentlemen?

I'm Marty Benson.

What do you guys want?

Cash? House seats?

Look, I'd offer you a backup singer,

but it's politically incorrect now.

We could all end up on harassment charges.

Your client might be brought up on more than that.

We found a body in her hotel suite.

A body?

As in...

Homicide, Murder One,

the big chill...

We'd like to speak with Rebecca as soon as possible.

Absolutely.

Now, we'll do everything we can to cooperate...

but let's keep the press out of this.

Okay?

She'll be off-stage in a minute.

[APPLAUSE]

You're out there, right?

I hear you.

I just can't see a damn thing through these lights, you know?

I'm so drunk,

I'm amazed I can see anything at all.

They tell me

there's about 40,000 of you clowns

out there,

all here to see me...

so why do I feel so alone?

[♪]

♪ Walking through shadows ♪

♪ Feel like I'm drifting away ♪

♪ Never able to touch a heart ♪

♪ Too cold to live this way ♪

♪ On the dark side Of the glass ♪

♪ Alone on the edge ♪

♪ On the dark side Of the glass ♪

♪ I'm the outsider ♪

♪ I'm the outsider Looking in ♪

♪ You can't run From what you are ♪

♪ You can't hide all the pain ♪

♪ When you look Through empty eyes ♪

♪ Night falls And the darkness remains ♪

♪ On the dark side Of the glass ♪

♪ Alone on the edge ♪

♪ On the dark side Of the glass ♪

♪ I'm the outsider ♪

♪ I'm the outsider looking in ♪

♪ On the dark side Of the glass ♪

Is that the life or what, huh?

♪ Alone on the edge ♪

Work two hours, make $10 zillion,

and the whole world worships you.

We, on the other hand,

work our butts off 40 hours a week

for zippo dollars,

and we're treated like Astroturf.

She's got it made, all right.

What do you think it's like up there?

Lonely.

♪ I'm the outsider ♪

Marty, Marty...

Yeah, what?

The monitors again, Marty...

They're still not working.

I was all over those mixers.

It's going to be covered tomorrow night.

I've got to hear myself.

There's these two guys you've got to meet.

It's very important, all right?

Rebecca, can you sign these 8 x 10s?

Anything else?

No, and then I want you to--

Now, look, there's two guys you've got to meet.

Everybody out.

Now.

Oh, thank God for Eric and his magic fingers.

Not yet, R.B.

Magic fingers, huh?

Out.

Don't tell me.

Life insurance.

Used cars?

Actually, I don't have a clue,

but we could have a lot of fun

finding out.

Marty...

Not another arrest for lewd behavior.

You told me the label was going to take care of that.

Honey, it's not what you think.

We're homicide detectives.

Dicks, huh?

You spent last night with a man, Billy Conway.

The whole night?

What was his name again?

Billy Conway.

I don't know...

which doesn't mean what we had wasn't meaningful.

Do you remember leaving him in your room dead?

He was dead?

No wonder I didn't...

crescendo.

You guys are serious, aren't you?

Yes, and I think you should be serious too.

So the name Billy Conway

means nothing to you?

She doesn't have to answer that.

Can you explain why your fingerprints

were all over this knife?

My client will not answer any--

It's a stage prop.

I use it every night.

For what purpose?

Entertainment.

Well, how did you

"entertain" Billy Conway?

He died smiling.

What are you saying?

It's a joke.

Yes,

and so is this interrogation.

I'm not going to let my client answer these questions.

I want to strike

everything that's been said up to this point,

and if you persist in this harassment--

I think we get the picture.

What exactly do you remember about last night?

Nothing...

like every night.

I drink too much.

Can you remember where you were between 2:00 and 3:00 a.m.?

I don't know.

A club.

Clubs.

The names of those clubs?

I have a hard enough time

remembering the name of the city I'm in.

Can you prove you were at a club?

Any witnesses?

Can you prove to me that I wasn't?

I told you.

I was pie-eyed.

But not too pie-eyed

to invite Billy Conway back to your hotel suite?

Look...

I mean it, okay?

I'm not jerking you guys around.

I can't remember.

Witnesses...

I mean,

even if I was to tell you where to look,

no one would be able

to tell you that they saw me.

The whole point to going out

is to have fun,

and that means not being recognized.

That means not being me.

Okay, listen--

She's laughing at us.

Clearly, she got tired

of merely singing about killing her fans,

stabbed one for real,

and her lawyer knows it.

She was blind drunk, and we both heard Nat say

that the wounds were neat rows.

No, don't tell me

you're buying this "I don't recall" routine.

I'm not buying into anything, Schanke.

It strikes me a person would make more of an effort

to come up with an alibi if they were guilty.

Yes.

A person in the real world would,

but that's not what we're dealing with.

She doesn't think she has to play by our rules.

I will bet you

my entire album library

of Schanke's greatest hits

that I'm right.

She's not a killer.

Your collection of eight-tracks is safe.

Tell them to get a holding cell ready downstairs.

Rebecca just confessed.

[REPORTERS CLAMORING]

We've got nothing to say.

Schanke, come here, hold up.

Would you look after these people, please?

Take this. Here. Take it!

It's an arraignment for murder, not a damn photo opportunity.

I don't care who it is.

Long day, longer night.

Captain?

Addressed to whoever is in charge.

Open it.

What's this?

Fan mail?

Polaroids.

There's no note, nothing else.

What am I supposed to do with these,

frame them?

Well, it obviously means something.

Like what?

You know what I think?

I think it's tuck-in time at Pillow Ranch.

Goodnight, gentlemen.

Obviously, someone thinks

we don't have enough to do with our time.

On second thought,

maybe I'll take the long way around.

Rebecca's fans still camped out?

Yeah, word's out big time.

By sunup,

it's going to be Woodstock out there.

Woodstock...

Yeah, Woodstock.

You were there?

Yeah, right.

In macrame diapers,

and Janis Joplin sang you a lullaby.

You're full of it, Knight.

Actually, I was with the Grateful Dead.

[CHEERING]

Come on, Nicholas.

It's time to rock.

You can't escape your fans.

Your soul has been sold out for weeks

in 23 cities.

[GUNFIRE]

[♪]

♪ My torture is over ♪

♪ It's your turn to cry ♪

♪ Got only one dream now ♪

♪ My fans must die ♪

♪ Fan kill ♪

♪ The only justice I know ♪

♪ Fan kill ♪

[BOOING]

[BOOING DROWNS OUT MUSIC]

[HARD ROCK PLAYING]

I don't get it.

I just don't get it, okay?

I give.

Ready for that Neil Diamond CD

in my office?

No, no, no, it's okay. I'm fine, I'm fine.

That's only in case of emergency.

I'm fine.

[TELEPHONE RINGS]

I'll get it. Yo?

Schanke, it's Nick.

Those Polaroids the captain received?

I need you to check it out.

I think the woman in the pictures

was Rebecca, disguised.

Someone was trying to provide an alibi for her.

Okay, but even if you're right, why would this be relevant?

Polaroids take a long time to develop completely, Schanke,

up to a year sometimes,

so I want you to get them to a lab,

have them analyzed,

see if we can get an estimated time of exposure.

Yeah, but Nick, I mean,

you haven't answered the fundamental question

of "the woman has already confessed."

It's relevant if it proves her innocence.

Have Natalie reopen Forensics.

[HUMMING]

[CELL DOOR OPENS]

So there really is music underneath all the mechanics.

A guy was in here earlier for busking without a permit.

I traded my sunglasses for it.

Sounded good.

New song?

Yeah.

Of course, it won't be on the album.

It's not about sex.

So I hope you're not giving the guards too much trouble.

Any unusual exotic requests?

No, but I was thinking of asking if they could

possibly use a better quality of mashed potato flakes,

but I am trying to be a good girl.

A good girl?

You've got to be careful, or you'll tarnish your image.

I couldn't tarnish, bend, fold, spindle, or mutilate my image

if my life depended on it.

Does your life depend on it?

So you liked my song, huh?

Yeah.

Yeah, very much.

Actually,

the acoustics in here aren't too bad at all.

I guess it's because

there's not a lot of people around

absorbing the sound.

You should be in here on New Year's Eve.

With any luck, I will.

You like it in here that much?

Do you have any idea what it's like

to watch yourself being slowly immortalized?

To watch the life

being slowly sucked from you,

the things that make you real?

God.

I mean, you can try and fight it all you want,

but once it gets going,

there's nothing you can do about it.

It's far too powerful.

Too seductive.

When I was a little girl...

I used to want to be famous.

Can you imagine?

Wanting. I mean...

I know it for a fact, but...

Be very careful what you wish for.

All right, baby.

The joke is over.

Come on, sweetheart.

We're going home.

What?

What are you talking about?

I mean, not even you could just come in here

and take a criminal home.

Right.

How about in the future

you let Nadine take care of the publicity?

This could have backfired on you.

Let's get you all cleaned up, honey.

You're going on in two hours.

Come on, that's it.

And this...

very wise man,

to whom we're eternally grateful,

had your case reopened.

Thank him for your walking papers.

Way to go, Sherlock Holmes.

Oh, listen, comps for everyone.

Please, please come, all right?

I'll have Nadine send them right over.

[CLINKING]

Congratulations.

You're going to be released...

But only if you want to be released.

That is,

remember it's a bad, bad world out there,

full of pain and suffering.

Rejection, discrimination, persecution, prostitution,

and loss.

Well, Nicholas?

I'm sure.

Oh, I'm so sorry, Nicholas.

It was all a joke.

There is no release.

[CROWD SHOUTING]

Rebecca? Rebecca?

Looking forward to a great show tonight,

Rebecca.

Any pre-concert words for your fans?

Yeah.

Go worship the life out of somebody else.

T-shirts!

T-shirts, 20 bucks!

Rebecca's here, come on!

How about you folks, huh?

20 bucks.

T-shirts, posters.

Okay, buddy, what do you got?

Ticket?

Okay, there you go.

It's starting up again.

She's out of jail a half-hour,

and traffic's screwed up downtown.

Right,

and we've still got a homicide to solve.

Natalie's report.

Yeah, I know.

The blood on the knife.

She didn't match either type.

That's what finally cleared her,

though the Polaroids would have been

a pretty good case as it is.

All we have to do now is start at the beginning again.

Let's just hope

whoever got rid of Billy Conway isn't a threat to her.

An hour before showtime,

and already things are heating up.

A letter sent to this music channel

addressed

to "whoever's in charge"

promises to vindicate Rebecca's fans

once and for all.

"Whoever's in charge"?

Now, we don't know what this means,

if anything.

Controversy is certainly not new for Rebecca.

The Polaroid photographer.

And I'll be filing reports

throughout tonight's show.

Get Schanke in here.

He's left, captain.

Went to the concert.

The concert? With security?

With comps and a backstage pass.

[DOOR OPENS]

Hi.

Hi.

You okay?

Do I look okay?

You look just fine.

Hey, where's your pass?

Nah.

[HEARTBEAT]

I'm with the band.

Okay.

Go ahead.

[DOOR OPENS]

[DOOR CLOSES]

Marty, dude...

A close personal friend of mine.

We go way back.

Welcome.

Make yourself at home, all right?

Great, great.

Hey, where'd you move that cheese table?

Hey, man.

Welcome to the inner sanctum.

Where's your proof of VIP-osity?

I think Rebecca's in danger.

Where the hell is Wendy?

Who cares?

It's on tape tonight, anyway.

ANNOUNCER: Hello, Toronto!

Put your hands together for Black Sheep Records'

number one recording artist,

Rebecca!

[♪]

♪ My torture is over ♪

♪ It's your turn to cry ♪

♪ Got only one dream now ♪

♪ My fans must die ♪

Out of the way! Move away!

Just keep her covered up.

Nick, I don't know

how long I can sit on this.

Buy me some time.

Go slow on the autopsy.

Come on, find something unusual

and tell them you need another day to test.

We believe in long shots, don't we?

[♪]

♪ Walking through shadows ♪

♪ Feel like I'm drifting away ♪

♪ Never able to touch a heart ♪

♪ Too cold to live this way ♪

♪ On the dark side Of the glass ♪

♪ Alone on the edge ♪

♪ On the dark side Of the glass ♪

♪ I'm the outsider ♪

♪ I'm the outsider looking in ♪

♪ You can't run From what you are ♪

♪ You can't hide all the pain ♪

♪ When you look Through empty eyes ♪

♪ Night falls And the darkness remains ♪

I know you're in here somewhere.

[HEART BEATING]

It's Wendy. It's Wendy.

I know.

Oh, God.

Why would anybody want to be me?

Wait a minute.

You're saying that it was Wendy that was shot?

And it was Wendy

who did the original murder.

See, she was framing Rebecca

so that she could replace her.

Here's the deal.

First we notify

the backup singers' families

about their deaths,

but then we release the official statement

to the press,

and we tell them Rebecca is dead.

What?

Not doable. Not doable.

She's got two more albums on her contract.

Yeah, what about the rest of the tour?

I mean, we refund the tickets?

People, if you had tickets to see one of the...

No, the most controversial artist of all time,

and she was shot on stage at the top of the show,

would you turn in your tickets?

Rebecca sells more records

than all our other artists put together.

Who in their right mind blows up a gold mine like that?

Someone who's looking for platinum.

Now, look, you all know damn well

that Rebecca's days were numbered.

She was falling off the charts

in the secondary market,

she wasn't crossing over,

and you both know what that spells.

This whole "Fan Kill" thing was deadly.

So you're saying we should let her go?

Cut our losses?

What losses?

We own her image.

We own the catalog, for crying out loud.

She has been assassinated.

All right.

Call it the Elvis Syndrome,

the Morrison Syndrome.

She quits while she's ahead, she stays ahead,

and we pump out a new greatest hits album

for every sighting at a 7-11.

People...

Rebecca will never end.

They are playing her nonstop

on every station in town.

It'll never end.

We are talking eternity.

A deal

that will last for eternity.

[♪]

[♪]

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