All language subtitles for The.Last.of.Sheila.1973.WAC.1080p.BluRay.x265.HEVC.FLAC-SARTRE_[eng]

Oh, thanks. Here are the keys.

What? What?

Sheila!

Goddamnit! Come on!
We got a party here, damn it!

Sheila!

Sheila, come on back!

Now where the hell are you going?

Sorry, Marty.
No, no, no, she's alright.

He was my friend.
No, he-- he was my friend.

- But he was a nice man.
- Tom?

- I don't want it now.
- Are you alright?

I don't want it.

Guess what?

Your father has had his body
defrosted into life,

and he wants this house back.

Almost.

Clinton requests our attendance
on his yacht for a week.

No kidding?

Oh, God. Oh, God!
Could it be? Could it be?

I wouldn't count on it,
no, I think he's just bored

and wants to play parlor games.

But we'll go anyway.

Ever the dreamer.

- Give me a sip of that.
- It's ginger ale.

Do you want one?

Tom, write something new.

Forget "Freak Show." Clinton's
never gonna produce it.

And he's never going to
give it back to you.

Probably.

Okay. Who else besides me?

Yeah. Both of them or just him?
Oh, that's good.

No way.
Yeah, well, who else is coming?

Well, that's different.
Of course, I'll come.

We've been dying to sign her
for months.

Hello? It's a bad connection here.

I said I have been dying

to see you for months!

Listen, what about
Bridey Murphy? Is she coming?

What do you mean what do I mean?

This is the same B-group
that was in your house

the night Sheila got bounced
to the hedges.

Yeah, well, I'm giving it
to Joyce Haber

"Clinton Greene's
Anniversary Wake."

That's what I said.
It's not right for Haber.

Okay, we'll just keep it
our secret instead.

Listen, I loved your...
That's a piece of dreck.

I loved your wire and I can't
wait to see you, really.

I mean, I've lost 50 pounds.
I'm a hollow reed. Kiss, kiss.

Call Haber and give her the dish.

Disguise your voice as a woman.

"My year of mourning being
over." Is he kidding?

I mean, we went directly
to Streisand's opening

at The Sands
right from the cemetery.

Get me Freddie, will you?

Freddie, I wanna go
to South France, honey.

Settle down, please, everyone!

Thank you.
Now, girls, shall we try?

Big smiles, everyone.

- Elizabeth.
- Britain's best bow-wows...

- Bark!
- For Buffers.

- Very good...
- Phone, Mr. Dexter.

It's your wife.

Yes, darling?

From whom?

Oh, good God!

- Bark! Bark!
- When? Very good.

Well, send a confirming telegram
from both of us.

Very well, then, from me.

Darling, I must hang up now.

One of my cast
is peeing on my leg.

Something Garbo never did,
even at her moodiest.

Bye, now.

Sorry.

Alright, everyone off.
Once again, please.

Now animation.
Wave the little tins. Ready. Go!

No, no that's it, that's it.
You ready, darling?

- Yes.
- Ready, gentlemen?

Ready!

- Do you enjoy Rome, love?
- Do I!

I enjoy Rome
for countless reasons.

Why do you leave?

Well, I've just finished
my picture

starring Kirk Douglas
and I'm exhausted.

- And the heat.
- Where do you go?

Um, for a week on the yacht
of a famous producer.

But I'm not afraid. My husband
will be there to protect me.

That's right, but I'm afraid our
plane will leave without us.

If you gentlemen will excuse us.
No, no, grazie-

Senor, senor-

- Senor, senor.
- No! No! No!

Oh, I'm fine!
He didn't mean anything.

You don't do commercials
for liquor companies.

Why can't we just go on
a vacation like normal people?

Let's board.

Don't want to leave the luggage,
and I ain't carrying it

three feet.

Is your back okay?

Yeah, so far.

Well, I pray it stays that way
and that Clinton

stays in a good mood.

Where is everybody?

You don't think they're below
playing sardines

or something, do you?

I'll bet Clinton's got
games planned for every day.

Just as long as he sticks
to the days

and leaves us some nights
for ourselves.

Hey! Tommy! Lee!

It's a mistake!

Hey, so what do you think,
gang, huh?

Thrilled, pleased, disappointed?

It's fabulous, Clinton.

- I didn't know you were coming.
- You're thrilled about it.

- I can tell.
- I'm delighted.

Clinton can take
his frustrations out on you.

Yeah, but you know
he's always sorry afterwards.

- How are you, Tom?
- Hey, CG.

- Hi, how was your flight?
- Flight was good.

Alright, people.
Let's line up by the prow.

- What is this, a pogrom?
- Now, come on.

When do you wish to sail,
Signor Greene?

When do I wish to sail?

Let's get out of
this joint tout de suite-

- Totally dry.
- Alright, gang.

Let's line up right here.

Husbands and wives separate, uh...

Lee, between Alice and Anthony.
Right in here.

That's right. Ah-ha!

Philip, you there. Christine.

Tom, on the other side
of Christine. There!

Left profile, darling.

He's Italian.

I took the wrong three weeks
at Berlitz.

All I know is scusi and pronto.

Pronto will be enough.

Alright, now let's smile,
or whatever you people

do for a living.
Take that hat off, Christine.

Alright, now squeeze in closer.

Come on, come on, squeeze in close

or you'll be out of the picture.

And I don't mean this one.

Perfect!

A study of six hungry failures.
Just kidding, gang.

He'll watch his mouth
when you sign with me.

When's lunch?

Come on, people. Vittorio
will show you your cabin.

I hate my luggage more than life.

- Whose is this?
- That's ours.

Vuitton from rewriting
spaghetti westerns?

- What's Vuitton?
- Good.

- Oh!
- Wowie!

Who did this room,
Parker Brothers?

Sometimes it rains, you know--

- What's the scoreboard for?
- Ah, well, that's for later.

Whoops, uh...

Sorry.

Oh, that's alright.
That's what they're for.

It's only Sheila's favorite.

Alright.

Everybody...

down to the latrines
for a shave, shower,

or douche, depending
on your hang-up.

I think it's fabulous, Clinton.

This is the bathroom.

- You like it?
- Oh, it's really beautiful.

What, uh, period would you say
it was, Clinton?

Louis XXXIV.

Come on, gang,
let's get this show on the road.

Oh, it's fabulous, Clinton.
Absolutely fabulous.

- It's like your mother's.
- It's like our maid's.

Tom, Lee, you have to share
a John. Get to know each other.

Philip.

Come on, love. Let's try it out.

What do you got for me,
something special?

- Yes.
- Can't wait to see it.

Oh, I love it!
But where does the crew sleep?

Look, Alice and Anthony
got the double

because he didn't want her
sulking for six days.

Because he knew you wouldn't sulk.

Everything with Clinton is points.

Understand? Points.

- Do you understand?
- Too well.

I don't mind Clinton, you know.

I just don't want him
running our lives.

Ah, wonderful,
Anthony and Alice have brought

their cassette player.

- Bottled water?
- Cabin-o five-o, capice?

Cabin-o five-o.

Nice little ass,
but I think he's afraid of me.

Now, what do you think
we're doing here?

- Oh, you're here, too.
- Clinton's project.

- Mm-hm, which is?
- Which is?

Well, he's been hinting
about making a picture

on the life and death
of Sheila Greene.

That is truly bizarre.

No, not really.

She's still a compulsive subject

with Clinton.

But he never really
cared about her.

Oh, yes, he did.
He cared about her very much.

He cared very much about her
Arizona real estate holdings

which we are sailing on right now.

Finding the guy who hit her is
just another game with Clinton.

Absolutely. But what a game.

And now Tom gets to write it,
Philip gets to direct it,

and what's her face,
I mean, uh, my new client,

Miss Alice Wood gets to thrill
you as Sheila Greene,

who rose from call girl
to columnist.

Listen, just do me this.

Minutes from now,
when Clinton talks about this

and he will, just be surprised.

Well, I'm thinking of
calling it...

Don't be shocked now.

"The Last of Sheila."

Fox is interested,
Paramount is interested.

It's the perfect woman's picture.

Every bit as big as "Love Story."

Except she never gets to play
that good hospital scene.

Well, Clinton, I think it's the
picture we've been waiting for.

If we're available, of course.

Yeah, well, provided they're not
opening a new

shopping center in Anaheim,
you will be.

Ah! Two hours to game time, gang.

Let me describe the week's
entertainment for you.

The last time I played a game
was charades at--

At my house, year ago,
the night Sheila was killed.

As a matter of fact,
everyone here was--

Was there. Except Lee.

You were home sick
in Santa Barbara, you said.

Uh, no, I was home sick
of Santa Barbara, I said.

I like any game
where you don't have to move.

Well, you don't have to for this
one, if you're smart enough.

Meaning?

Well, it's sort of...

I call it "The Sheila Greene

Memorial Gossip Game."

Sounds fascinating.

And I haven't even
described it yet.

- No, I couldn't. I'm stuffed.
- Now, I've dreamed up odds--

Can't you take a joke? Come here.

Pay attention, please.

Now, I dreamed up six secrets,
one for each of you.

Six little
pretend pieces of gossip.

Now keep them secret.

Give me, give me.

- Can we look at them?
- It'll help.

How do you think these things up?

Well, this one's only
taken me a month to prepare,

"He said modestly."

It's marvelous.

It's what I've always
wanted to be.

It says, "You are a snoop."

No, no, no, don't throw it away.
Keep them till Saturday.

And don't show them.

Anybody who wants to peek
at mine gets a kiss.

What's the game?

Well, the idea is to discover
everybody's secret

without peeking, of course,
and prevent the other players

from discovering yours.

And how do we do that?

Well, every day, we'll park
in a different port

where you can discover the proof
of one person's secret.

I'll announce what secret it is
to look for and give you a clue

which will tell you what to do
and where to go on shore.

Now, if you solve
the clue properly,

it'll lead you
to where the proof is.

Now, suppose you announce,
let's say, "Pyromaniac."

And let's say that's my secret.

Why should I bother
looking for the proof?

Because when the person
whose secret it is

discovers the proof,
I'll put a card out saying

the game for that evening is over.

And those who haven't found it
don't score, right?

Right, oh, if you could direct
as fast as you catch on

to games you'd never be
a has-been again.

- What do we get if we win?
- Better billing.

- Let's play!
- Ah!

According to the old pizza stinger

that runs this tub for me

the launch will be back
to pick you up at 7:00 p.m.

That's when you'll get your clue
for this evening.

For whom are we looking tonight?

The person with
the shoplifter card.

Vittorio!

Alright, who's got
the shoplifter card?

Oh, come on, fellas, we're not
gonna really do this, are we?

Run around
this bombed-out backwater

with a silver key up our tuchus?

This probably means
that you're the shoplifter.

Is this the only clue
we're gonna get?

- It must open a door somewhere.
- Brilliant.

Oh, it's a game. I thought
you were going to enjoy it.

Vittorio, honey,
I wanna talk to you.

- If we're playing...
- Hey, stop.

Stop coming on
to Vittorio, Christine.

He doesn't know what the key
means any more than you do.

It's my secret.

Everybody got their key? Huh?

Vittorio will be back
to pick you up again

at 10 o'clock sharp.

Now, be on the docks by that
time or you'll have to

swim back to the boat
through the oil slick

and the beer cans.

And no conferring. This is an
individual competition.

Oh, quit pouting, Alice.

You're having a terrific time.

Kill.

Don't hate me. I followed you.

Hey, look, I know it's against
the rules, but really

we could knock this off together.

You know, actually,
I speak a little frog.

Just don't tell Clinton
I did it, okay?

Look at this chintzy toast rack.

Maybe it's a letter holder.
What do you think?

I think Steve and Eydie
would love it.

How much is it, this thing?

Ninety francs. Nine...
What is that?

Ninety divided by five?

- Merci-
- Are you kidding? That is $18.

I think that's outrageous...
Where'd she go? Lee!

I'd very much like
to be allowed to compare

this key with the keys
of your rooms,

if that's alright with you.

Hey, Lee, what did you find?

Lee, wait for me!

- What did you find?
- Oh!

I'll give you a hint.

The word in French for key is cle.

C-L-E-F. Get it?

Hey, d-- don't tell Clinton
I told you, okay?

Lee!

Lee!

I never saw that one before.

She's probably a war baby.

Tsk!

I knew this hotel
was an at-cay ouse-hay.

It's the same key
that whore had on the corner.

Which corner, madam?

- Don't touch the dummy, dummy.
- Jesus.

Just figure out what happened
and get your buns out of here

before one of the other dodos
comes in.

Alright.

Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock.
Tick-tock. Tick-tock.

Well, obviously,
this is the shoplifter's room.

Everything still has
a price tag on it.

Yawn.

And, uh, this is a detective
whom he's killed.

And, uh, this bottle of perfume
is a clue

to the shoplifter's identity.

Do you move your lips
when you read?

Uh, uh, perfume,

uh, scent, uh, money.

Uh, no, no, um,

French money is francs,
not cents, uh...

Chan... Oh!

Chanel No. 5.

Very good, Clinton.

Very good.

Here are all the known photographs

of the brutal shoplifter
who has terrified

the sniveling merchants of the
Riviera for the past 20 years.

Here is the only head shot taken
by Bruno of Hollywood.

Ah, Clinton, I'm dazzled!
Closed circuit?

What did you think it was,
black magic?

Is this it? Oh, my God!
What is that?

No, don't get your hopes up,
darling, it's not our host,

he's standing behind the door.

You go play pinball machines.

- Have fun.
- Now, now. See you at 10:00.

Hi.

- You get it?
- Unh-unh. Not yet.

Well, I could give you a hint.

Unh-unh, I want to figure
this one out all by myself.

You seem a little worried.
You okay?

I'm fine.

Go on, get out of here,
you shoplifter.

Here is the only headshot

taken by Bruno of Hollywood.

Well, I found the proof.

- What now?
- We get out of here.

Ketchup's beginning to attract
silverfish.

- Ooh! Don't hit me.
- No, no, no.

Thank God you speak French.
Listen.

D-- did you, uh,
you did get fixed up

with one of the go-go boys
in there, did you?

- Are you kidding me?
- Mm.

Are you... I spent the last hour
ditching guys

who thought I was offering them
the key to my hotel room.

Hotel.

Hey, fellows, I got the key,
I knew it would...

Any of you guys belong
to a '57 Dodge pickup truck?

Oh, shit!

Not here for God's sake.

Everybody's walking around.
Listen.

I wanna see you tonight.
I'd like to talk to you.

It's about this game.

I know we said we'd be careful,
but I don't think

anybody will be on the top deck.
I mean late.

Hi, bunny.

You mean there's no such thing
as 18-karat silver?

No, gold, my dear. Only gold.

If I'd been thinking more
clearly I wouldn't have wasted

15 minutes in some
masseuse's apartment

while she showed me her
scrapbooks from World War ll.

- Is it your back?
- Yes. All that running around.

Alright, Brownie troop, I just
wanna ask you two questions.

- Who solved it, and how many?
- Didn't you, sweetie?

Hey, no talking about the game.

Oh, I'll be more into it
tomorrow night.

You'd better be, honey,
or Sandra Dee

will be playing Sheila.

- Terrific!
- Go tell them to turn it down.

Are you mad? I'm not gonna
play housemother to those two.

Ah! Alone at last.

Not while Clinton's al...

Good Lord. I was gonna say
not while Clinton's on board

and it came out "Not while
Clinton's alive."

Boy, you don't forgive easy.

I've lived around Clintons
all my life,

starting with daddy,
that same hearty way

of bringing people to their knees

and then, handing out
little presents.

Like this job.

- Why are you doing this?
- Come on.

She wants a bigger bed.

Point noted.

Come over here. Let's forget
Clinton for a while.

And starlight
filled the corners of the room.

You're an incurable romantic.

Oh, it's curable.

I swear to God,
I'm not. That's it.

Now, what's that all about?

Hey, turn off your questing mind
for a while.

We went through a shuffle
at the model agency,

and I was broke.

Jean wasn't keeping me anymore,
and I don't know

suddenly I just got this urge
to take something, anything.

Oh, I told myself
it was because I was broke

but... really,
it was just this urge.

So I ripped off a leopard coat.

Big brown buttons
and slash pockets.

Poor thing. But, of course,
I got caught.

"Would you please accompany me
to the manager's office?"

They said.

And you know who got me out of it?

No, scratch that. We know how
jealous you get, don't we?

Anyway, I got bailed out
and nobody knew.

But nobody knew me then.

That's why I was so
out of it tonight.

Clinton swore to me it was
just a coincidence, but...

you see, it's not just me.

Look, darling.

You see?

And I thought of you.

And I thought that Clinton's got
something on each of us.

He's just mixed up the cards,
that's all.

It's rotten.

But I'd like to know
what the others are.

I wonder what he's got
for Anthony.

That's the thing about secrets.

We all know stuff
about each other,

we just don't know the same stuff.

How did he find out?

Sheila, probably.

Have you got the shoplifter
card? That'd be ironic.

You won't tell.

What card do you have? Hm?

Now how are you going to get
through this trip

without jumping on my bones
and eating me alive, hm?

What card do you have?

Please? Tell me. Tell me.

Tell me. Please.

Is she still upset?

What? Oh!

- Talk about a body.
- Please don't.

Oh! She's looking upset again.

That's because
she doesn't like games.

- She always loses.
- Will you stop it?

Why don't you go down the hall
and get yourself a job?

Oh, you're so mean to me.
Isn't she mean to me?

Oh! Boo-hoo.

Boo-hoo.

Boo-hoo!

Oh, Jesus.

Oh, you started without me.

Lee, my darling.

What're you doing out here
at this ungodly hour?

Have I ever told you
how sweet you were to me

when I was a child?

Nothing could've been simpler.

No, I mean it. At daddy's
legendary Sunday lunches.

I can still see you
on Olivia de Havilland's lap.

It's funny, you know,
she was one of the few people

that Sheila ever had
anything good to say about.

Couldn't you sleep?

Yes, if I took a Seconal,

which I'd rather not do just yet.

Lord, I hope that Clinton really
does intend to do this movie.

Tom has done nothing but rewrite
jobs for so long now.

And need I tell you
the two years we've tried

living off Clinton's options
on "Freak Show."

Hardly paid
for the pool maintenance?

If a, um, glass of second-rate
brandy at this hour

might excuse a certain
tactlessness

why don't you simply
dip into capital

and produce your own picture?

Private finance
is not that uncommon nowadays.

Can you imagine
how Tom would feel about that?

Well, heigh-ho, gang.

Going over your hand signals
for the bridge tournament?

How'd I feel about what?

If, um, if after
a sudden blackout,

we all discovered we were dead

as a result of some terrible crash

and we're on our way
to the great beyond.

- Hm, with Clinton as God.
- Yes.

Give me a sip of that.

- It's bourbon.
- Right.

Well, I hear that calisthenics
are at 8:00 sharp.

We wouldn't want to incur
disfavor at this point.

Would we? Goodnight.

He's a nice man.

- Come on back down.
- Mm.

- I only had one.
- Don't worry about it.

Let's just get some sleep.

I'd kill myself for a hot bath.
Clinton has the only tub.

- Want one of these?
- I may not need it, doctor.

- What's the matter?
- I don't know.

There's something going on.
I'm getting some strange vibes.

I'm gonna have a talk
with Clinton.

- At this hour?
- He never sleeps, like Dracula.

He hasn't had a good eight hours
since the night

Sheila was killed.

Do you think we'll ever hear
the last of Sheila?

Tommy, let's just make this movie,

and put the money
in mutual bonds and go home.

Go to sleep, dear boy.

They'll give us conflicting
reports about it in the morning.

Clinton, I've been thinking
on the subject

of managing Alice's career.

I mean, we do sort of think of
her career as our career

sort of thing, but still, my...

My aspirations do run closer

to the production end of things,
if you know what I mean.

Production, casting, et cetera.

Uh-huh!

What would you say, and please be

absolutely frank,

to me asking you for an...

an associate producership
on this upcoming film?

- What would I say?
- Mm-hm.

I would say, uh,

"Boo-hoo."

There's nothing worse
than a hustler with bad timing.

Crissy, put a little of this
on my back, will you?

I'd really love to, honey, but
it'll throw my schedule off.

I have to do 25 minutes
on my front today.

Oh, to make up for
the 25 minutes you spent

on your back last night.

Honey, put some gunk
on her back, will you?

We don't want her to burn.

Anyhow,
as I was saying, they shoot you

full of these rhino tranqs
and then they wrap you

in these hot sheets.

You wake up five days later
about 30 pounds thinner

and screaming for hot turkey
sandwiches, I mean it...

- Hey, you listening to me?
- Kind of.

I'm here because I've got
a client to keep and one to get.

What's your excuse?

I'm trying to hold on to a husband

who's trying to go down.

With your money?

I like you best alone.

You've been telling me that
for years.

Do you know that guy on the corner

who winds up his little
mechanical men,

and they run crazily around?

- I'm that guy.
- Oh, Clinton.

"Oh, Clinton," what?

- I'm sorry.
- You're sorry, what?

I'm sorry Anthony
didn't handle that better.

Cut. Print.

Whoo-hoo! Vittorio!

Whoo-hoo! Vittorio!

Shh! Christine, the crew
are having their naps.

Jesus! Watch Pakistan,
and now naps for sailors?

Honey, would you drop me
down a Tab?

My mouth is so dry
I feel like they could shoot

"Lawrence of Arabia" in it.

You know, Christine just said
that her mouth is so dry

they could fill
"Lawrence of Arabia" in it.

Right.

Tommy!

Hey, Tommy! Come on in.

Tell us about the rewrite
you did on Fistful of Lasagna

or whatever the hell it was.

You never talk about your work.
Why is that?

Hey, Philip!

Philip! Philip, listen.

I've been mulling over
the opening sequence.

What do you think? We zoom in
close on a sleeping bag.

Somewhere in the Pacific
Northwest, right?

It's Sheila's mother in labor.

- Think it'll play?
- Sorry, Clinton.

I didn't quite get that.
Shall we play what?

Jesus, go back to sleep, Lee.

Stand up, Christine!

I hope you were taking movies.

Where's your robe?

Get her a drink.

Oh, look at me.
I got a new hairstyle.

He hit me!

Get a...

Get me a glass of water
and a couple of lesbians.

Did you hear what I said?

My, that was limpy.

What's the matter with you people?

Christine.

I'm so tired.
I just have to take a nap now.

Wake me up
when the credits are over.

Hey, there.

Is she okay?

Yeah, she's alright.

Vittorio, Goddamn you,
where are you?

Alright, alright!
You listen, come on.

You've got some explaining to do.

Don't you know enough not
to turn those eggbeaters on

when we're ditching around
out there?

This is a goddamn luxury cruise,
not an obstacle course!

Look, I've been asking around,
and none of us

was in sight of any of the others

for just those few seconds.

Alice claims to have been
in her cabin.

I was in the lounge with Guido.

- Lee was on the top deck.
- I was in my cabin.

According to the rules
of the genre,

we should now be looking
for a motive.

Even Clinton could have
climbed up the other ladder

and started the engines.

Well, well, well,
not pawing through my...

bag of tricks there, are you, dad?

- No, Clinton.
- Ooh!

- Trying to get my attention?
- It's my back.

Come up here,
don't you slip a disc.

No, don't answer that.

We don't want this topic
to degenerate

into the discussion phase.
Take a pill.

Vittorio, get my friend
two blue with the purple stripe.

Maybe if I stayed out
of tonight's game.

Oh, Jesus, I'd really hate that.

But que sera,
but as long as you're ready

for Saturday night,
which is your biggie.

- Saturday?
- Yep.

Moor away, laddies.

You like it?

I love it.

Tiny, tiny islands
fascinate my ass.

I've got this crazy broker
in London

that sends me these brochures
on all the islands for sale

all over the world.
Little impoverished islands.

A few thousand dollars cash
and you're practically

king to six shepherds
and their families.

Or whatever.

I read every word on every island.

And you know what I do?

I tear them neatly in half

and drop them in the waste basket.

Then I say to myself--

I'm still weak, Clinton,

but I'm eating solid food.

I say to myself,
"If there's one thing I hate,

it's to have
my island speech interrupted."

I say to myself...

"No, you poor people,

you don't deserve
a good king like me."

That's what I say.

Three hours to magic time.
Bye-bye!

Heidi-heidi-ho, gamesters!

Everybody on the decky-wecky.

Oh, there they are.

You know, it really touches me,
the way you people

humor me, day after day.

Here they are, gang,
your clues for this evening.

Read them and weep.
Good work, Tom.

Alright, the launch will be back

to pick you up at 8:20 sharp.

Be ready.

Hey, Clinton!
Who are we looking for?

Tonight, the homosexual.

In a monastery?

Where else?

"The isle off
the Church of Saint Pierre."

Shouldn't that...
That must be of, "O-F," hm?

"This isle,
now largely uninhabited

by modest fisher folk
was once the domain

of the now devastating monastery

of forgotten men."

Hey. This must be a put-on, yeah?

Clinton's fine Italian hand.

"Travelers engulf from many lands

to the site of this
former 11 th century refuge

of perverts, onanists, catamites

and other riffraff of the day."

We have just 15 minutes.

Just enough time for me
to get dressed as a catamite,

if I knew what it was.

Right.

Honey, honey, I know
this isn't the kind of junk

you keep in your head, but, um...

- But what?
- Well...

Can you ever remember
hearing any gossip

about Alice being arrested?

For taking something from a shop.

I'm going to grab a quick
shower before we take off.

Just be a minute.

Okay?

Okay?

Do you think there's
a homosexual aboard the yacht?

God, I don't know.
Is there a dividing line today?

Don't patronize me.

Patronize? Is that the word
you really mean?

- What's the matter now?
- I'm sorry.

Is this game only a game?

I'll be right out.

I'll be up on deck.

Ah, it's all rather
like a Hammer film, isn't it?

He's got the sound department
working overtime.

It's weird.

And I'm scared.

"In these ruins, monks' robes
must be worn at all times

in respect
for the departed brothers."

I fear it's to be a costume party.

"The evening tour commences
at 9:00 p.m.

and ends at 9:30 p.m., regardless.

To begin before will enrage
the spirit of Fra Pervertus.

The vows of silence must
be observed, so keep..."

So keep what? Keep what? Keep...
What does it say?

I don't like that at all.

What time is it?

It begins.

That's Clinton.

All we have to do is find him.

Vows of silence. Vows of silence.

Well, it's the sound of music,
for God's sake.

But then,
how are we supposed to know

which place to look for him?

We're wasting time.

Clinton.

Clinton, what am I supposed to do?

Listen, I know it's you.

I heard you cough.

Now, the others there,
they're on tape.

Right?

That's disgusting.

- But clever.
- Shh. You'll ruin it.

You're supposed
to be Alice, obviously.

And you're supposed to be
on the other side,

so I can use the slider.

Much more effective
but the door's stuck.

Goddamnit!

How'd you find me so fast?

That "lsle off the Church" pun
in the brochure.

Not up to par, Your Eminence.

I'll fix the door.

They must have loused it up
when they moved it.

Can I help?

No, just piss off...

my son-

Ah, Goddamn you!

Oh, for shame.

Damn.

Wanna kiss me?

You could do
with a little more rouge.

Mm.

Is the volume too high out there?

Mm. Too low, if anything.

Shit, nothing's going right.

Maybe if I, uh, open the door

to the chapel a little wider, huh?

Clinton?

Clinton.

Ollie, Ollie, oxen free!

Just give us the news, please.

Come out, come out,
wherever you are.

Am I the first?

What do I do now?

Oh, but, Clinton, don't leave me.

Clinton, I hate being scared.

Scared.

- Ah!
- Shh!

Then Alice has
the homosexual card.

Just keep your voice down
and get the hell out of here.

Oh, Clinton, this is just the
best game I've ever... played.

Darling, it's brilliant.
It's really brilliant.

Hello?

Clinton? Is somebody there?

What's going on?

Hey, that's not fair.

Clinton, you can't do that!

Vittorio thought that Guido had
picked him up and vice versa.

But he's not in port,
and he hasn't slept in his bed.

Ah-hah. It's part of the game.
It's a clue.

He hasn't filled in
the scoreboard.

Maybe he's still
romping around Dragonwyck.

Or perhaps lying in a box of Earth

with a stake through his heart.

- Oh.
- Uh...

He seemed edgy last night.

The door was stuck.

Uh, the cassette wasn't
loud enough and the--

- What door?
- The confessional--

Hey! Loose lips sink ships.

Hey! Who cares about the game
at this point?

I mean, something is flooey.
Now, where is he?

Clinton?

Clinton?

Oh, that's funny.

Clinton?

Out! Just out!

Apparently, there is a God.

Do-- don't touch anything.

I won't.

It must have been the storm.

Loosened the stone.

Well, what do we do
with the ladies?

Tell them to wait.

Oh, uh, shouldn't we notify
the authorities?

On an island with two cafes
and a weaver?

Something's wrong.

I hope you brought
your fingerprint kit.

Oh.

I see Clinton finally
got this door open,

breaking it in the process,
as usual.

- Alice is sick.
- Oh, dear.

We're going back.

Ah-ha!

What?

A vital clue?

Clinton didn't smoke cigarettes.

There's no seaplane.

The police
will arrive late tonight

or early in the morning by craft.

It takes six to eight hours.

We will harbor here until.

Uh, good, good, good.
Thank you very much, captain.

Well, I guess that means, uh,
an inquest and reporters.

Yeah, you better get your
left profile ready.

Oh, shut up, Christine.

They can't very well
bury him at sea, can they?

No, there's too much pollution
in the Mediterranean already.

Poor Clinton. It's such a shame.

It would have been such
a big grosser for him.

"The Last of Sheila."

Hey, now, he's dead.

I mean, you sit around here
and you talk about

some goddamn movie
and he's dead...

Will you stop
hawking that ice bucket?

I'm just gonna have my
Bloody Mary straight up.

Uh, me, too. Bourbon.

Christine, listen, Clinton's
misadventure is unfortunate,

but an accident is an accident,
and a film is a film.

Has it occurred to anybody that
this isn't the first accident?

Yesterday, the propeller,
last night, the stone.

What do you mean?

Suppose the propeller
wasn't an accident.

Suppose it was a mistake.

You mean someone
was trying to kill Clinton?

Why should anyone want
to kill Chris?

Yeah, we're not in Hollywood.

Oh, come off it, Tom.

Look, I assumed Clinton
was swimming near the propeller.

I heard him yelling.
Didn't you? Didn't we all?

What fantasies are you building?

Who did not solve the game
last night?

Why did you say, "That's funny"

when we were standing
outside the chapel?

Because it was locked
when I left last night.

Then I want to know why was it
unlocked this morning,

and why did Clinton
put the sign out?

Because the game was over-

It was,
but it shouldn't have been.

I had the homosexual card,

and the game should have
gone on until I found him.

Exactly.

There were some interesting
points in the chapel.

Interesting how? I mean,
obviously, he was leaving.

The storm shook the place
and the stone fell on him.

Not unless he was crawling.

Why would he be crawling?

Uh, the, the stone that fell

on Clinton's head came
from the base of the column.

It was grooved.

The tops of the columns are
shaped like acanthus leaves,

the bottoms are grooved-

Interesting point number one.

Then, uh, there was that
piece of wood.

What's that?

I found it in the folds
of Clinton's robe.

It's from the grille
on the door to the priest's box.

Interesting point number two.

Um, um, I didn't see any grille
on the priest's door.

Oh, right.
You never found him, you said.

Now, what do you mean, he said?

There was a grille last night,
but not this morning.

That grille was removed. Why?
Where's the rest of it?

And what was this doing
in the priest's box?

Clinton didn't smoke cigarettes.

Newport.

I'm not the only one
who smokes Newports.

Come on. There are cartons
all over the ship.

I'm smoking one.

Hey, what's the difference?

- Did you smoke in there?
- No.

- You?
- I never found him.

Of course. I forgot. Honey?

I don't know. I don't remember.

But surely not
in the priest's box.

No, of course not.

Interesting point number three.

A cigarette nobody smoked.

See,

I don't think Clinton died
near the pillar at all.

I think he died
in the priest's box.

And not from a stone falling
or otherwise.

So what do you think happened?

I think he was about to leave
when somebody came in.

I'm not saying one of us.

Somebody came in,
smashed through the grille--

With what, pray tell?

Mm, I don't know-

Maybe something
he brought with him.

He or she.

The candle holder, perhaps.

Mm, crossed my mind.

- Maybe it was an accident.
- Oh, maybe, maybe.

But at any rate, he decided to
make it look like an accident.

See, I'm theorizing that he
or she stood there for a moment

assessing the situation,

which would account
for the cigarette.

Slipped the sign under the door

to be sure there wouldn't
be any more interruptions.

Dragged Clinton over,
placing him near the pillar,

smashed the stone down, thereby
making his first mistake.

He assumed the stone was
from the top of the column-

It wasn't. But then there was
very little light.

Now, he had the problem
of the wood.

- What problem?
- Darling, darling.

He couldn't very well
leave the grille broken.

He hoped, with the frame empty,
it would go unnoticed-

Unfortunately, second mistake,

One piece had lodged
in Clinton's robe.

The only thing left
to do then was get rid

of the splintered pieces,
probably into the sea.

And the game was over.

Hell, I think we can agree that
none of us did it, can't we?

Well, I mean, who would?

I really mean, who wouldn't?
But I mean, who really would?

Right. After all, we're
not the only people around.

What about some
of the weirdoes on this ship?

What about Vittorio?

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.

That's not what
Tom has been saying.

Tom has been saying
that one of us did it.

Or, uh, haven't you been
listening?

- Now, hold it.
- I don't care.

That's your problem.

Hold it, please. I'm sorry,
I was only exploring.

I haven't accused anyone.

Yet.

Look, let me just get this out.

Five minutes, and then I'm
gonna have five scotches

and take a long nap.

- You think you know who?
- No. No.

Then stop telling us
what you don't know

and tell us what you do.

Well, there is someone

who might clear this up for us.

- Who?
- Clinton.

So help me God, if this is a hoax

and he comes,
walks in through that door,

I'm gonna throw this
cut glass ashtray

right in his face.

There's no hoax.
Clinton's dead alright.

Just say what's on your mind.

- Okay.
- May I have another?

I think it's tied up to the game

we've been playing this week.

Do you all have the cards

Clinton handed out
on the first night?

Oh, we passed it.

I may have no idea where mine is.

Alright. Alright, I'll go
and look for it.

Thanks.

I wonder what we're gonna
feel like an hour from now.

When Tom's finished
writing the scene,

I'll tell you what
attitude to play.

I've done it before, you know?

I'm beginning to wish
I hadn't started all this.

You could stop right now.

It's gonna be interesting.

Um, okay?

Oh, thank you.

Alright.

Now, if everyone will, uh,
please put their cards,

if you'll pardon the expression,
on the table.

Well, there's only five
there. Where's the other one?

Tom?

Hm? I'll show mine in a minute.

Oh, well, I'd like to see it now.

Well, let's give him
a chance, shall we?

Alright. Alright.

Now, we all knew
about two of these secrets.

We've already played them.

"Shoplifter" and "Homosexual."

The others we're seeing
for the first time.

"Ex-convict." "informer."
"Child M..."

Oh. Excuse me.
"Little Child Molester."

And mine.

So, this was Clinton's idea
for a week of fun.

Him assigning us secrets,
us discovering them.

And it was a good game.

But some of us began to suspect

there was more to it
than met the eye.

That Clinton had not assigned
these six secrets at random,

but that each player had been,
at one time in his life,

guilty of one of them.

Oh, no.

Not guilty of the secret
he was assigned.

Clinton was a far more elegant
game player than that.

And he certainly didn't want us
refusing to play

on the first night,
which we well might have done

had we been assigned
our own secrets.

So it was more than a game.

It was a private joke.

What does your card say?

In a minute.

A man is dead.

Evidence indicates
that it's murder.

And we've discovered
the murdered man

was playing a sadistic game
with his guests.

A game whose central theme was
six hidden shreds from the past.

Any questions?

Yeah, but you see that he,
he knew that I never meant to--

- Christine, wait. Wait.
- That's bullshit!

I mean, nobody would have
knocked Clinton's brains in

because of some stupid secret.

I agree.

Look at these cards.
Enough to make us squirm. Sure.

Enough to remind us of just how
nasty Clinton could be. Sure.

But enough to kill him?

No.

Do let's see your card, old boy.

"Hit-And-Run Killer."

- What is this, a joke?
- No.

Clinton always
took his games seriously.

He wouldn't have spoiled this
with a joke.

It seems clear enough
he believed one of us

guilty of a hit-and-run killing.

Sheila.

The game was
to be Clinton's revenge.

On?

The person whom he thought

but couldn't prove
to be guilty of Sheila's death.

On the last night, Saturday,
my turn,

he was gonna pull the plug
on that person.

How do you know?

He told me yesterday

when he gave me the pill
for my back.

Ah.

Okay, everybody.
What are you waiting for?

Let's all get up
and run around in a circle.

I mean, this
is musical chairs, isn't it?

Isn't that what this is...
musical chairs?

In Tom's mind, anyway.

Right, it's just one
of Tom's damn fantasies.

But you're all still here.

Okay...

I'll start.

Uh...

I had a thing with Clinton.

It wasn't much more
than me feeling sorry for him.

It, uh, didn't last long.

And it's in the past now.

More than ever, right now.

Uh, Tom, a-- am I just being slow?

Are you saying,
are you claiming that

homosexual card,
meaning you're in the clear?

Because I don't know
about the rest of you.

And I'm in no position

to challenge your little story,

charming as it was.

But then it's equally true
that Clinton could've

come up with some dirty
half-truths about you,

you, you, or any of us.

I mean, what gives you the right,

the exclusive right to that card?

Fair enough.

I just looked at the cards and
saw only one that applied to me.

Of course, if the same
is true of you, Anthony,

then that's another story.

And it may mean that Clinton's
game is invalid.

Well?

W-- What are you saying?

Now, are you trying to say
I'm a homosexual now?

No, listen.
Nobody says you're anything.

I just looked at the cards
and said I was the homosexual.

That's all.

But that was in the past.

They're all in the past.

Anybody want to say anything?

I mean, if ever there was
an "unofficial investigation,"

this is it, right?

Or should I tell you
that Lee and I once heard rumors

about a shoplifting incident
concerning somebody

in this room?

Okay.

Thanks.

"Shoplifter." That's me.

It's the only one.

I stole a coat.
Et cetera, et cetera, et cetera.

Don't look so shocked, Anthony.

I'll swipe you some ID bracelets

and you'll forget all about it.

Alright. Well.

Me for the five scotches.

- Tom, if I may?
- Sure.

That leaves the other four
of us somewhat dangling,

wouldn't you say?

Mm-mm. Hello.

Well, what can I say?
I was a, I was a secretary.

And I was just too eager.

So I dropped a few names

to the House Un-American
Activities Committee.

Then those people didn't work
for a while. Now they work.

Sometimes I try and get them work.

Sometimes I see them
on the street,

and sometimes they
cross the street.

So what?

There is one thing
that confuses me.

Shoot.

I'm just pursuing a thought,

you understand?

But as I see it,
the logical person

to have killed Clinton is you,
because--

- Because...
- No, sorry. Please go ahead.

No, no, no, no. No. No, go ahead.

- I need some ice.
- That's right.

Because no one else
felt so threatened.

You were the only one...

Who knew about the hit-and-run
killer card.

I was the only one meant
to know about it.

Remember, Clinton would never
have given that card

to the person
he thought to be the killer.

Actually, I was horrified
when I saw the card.

I spoke to Clinton about it.
He laughed.

Said he just made up a lot
of melodramatic secrets.

But I'm guessing the killer
overheard our conversation

and understood Clinton's
real motive.

Oh, you're cold, Tom.

You think it's me, don't you?

Your wife was 100 miles away

and your sophisticated
director friend here

seems cool enough,
but I'm a little nervous.

Besides, you dislike me too much.

I have no reason to dislike you.

I feel it, though.

Anthony, I don't think
this is the moment.

I think it's the moment.
My moment. Time for my theory.

Now, today, we saw all the cards
for the first time.

Now, it didn't take us long to
find the truth in three of them.

Oh, and your mind worked fast.

I could almost hear it
ticking over

as you quickly labeled Lee
the ex-convict,

arrested in some anti-war rally.

Sentence suspended sort of thing.

And Philip here?

Oh, he can kid his way
along with some

witty child molester jokes.

And that leaves me.

Well, I've done time.

I've been in prison twice,
for assault.

And I can prove it.

Can anyone else here
make that particular claim?

Disappointed, Tom?

Actually, I was arrested, um,
some years ago-

- Oh, no. No, no.
- I was. I was arrested.

No. No, no, luv.
Not just arrested.

You see that card?
"Arrested" is quite different.

Well...

As a matter of fact, I...

At this point, I don't think

we can go any further.

What?

What I mean is, we've established

what we set out to prove.

What is this?

I mean, we can't, uh,
we can't, uh...

We all agreed to this.

We can't draw any
ironclad conclusions.

It's all theoretical.

Oh, well, that's just fine.
It's theoretical.

But, I mean, it's hardly fair
to stop now, is it?

Is it, Philip? Mm?

I mean, uh, you want to choose
from, uh, what's left?

Now, we've got, uh...

dented fenders, or...

how about a little petting
in the playground?

Stop, everybody, please.

By which I just mean,
let me get this over with.

- Honey--
- I was drunk.

I was too drunk to drive.

No, Tom, stay there, please.

I, I'm so sorry I didn't tell you.

I know you would've helped me
do the right thing,

but I just couldn't.

I drove down the coast
to the party.

I overshot the driveway.
My car skidded.

I didn't even see her. I panicked.

So I turned around and I drove

all the way back to Santa Barbara.

The next morning
I wrote that silly note

about having to visit
my school friend.

And I took the car and I drove
as far away as I could.

Las Vegas.

I traded cars
at the car rental place,

and then that afternoon
I drove home.

And I thought I was safe.

Until the game.

It was things that you said, Tom.

I started to think, and then...

I was the one
who looked at the card.

I know the point of the game.

I think it's vicious
and I'd like you to stop it.

Oh, go away.

Why did you wait so long?

I only found out last week.

Harry's Rent-A-Car, Las Vegas.

- Remember?
- It was--

I happened to meet Harry.

It was an accident.
It was only an accident.

I swear, Clinton, I'm sorry.
Well, I didn't...

He said he hoped
you weren't still worried

about the damage to the car.

I couldn't get control.
I was drinking!

The police never
checked on out-of-state cars.

Please don't tell them.
Please. Clinton!

Shh! You want to let
the whole world know?

See, that's what gave me
the idea for the game.

Because the harder you try
to keep a secret in,

the more it wants to get out.

- See you Saturday.
- No!

Clinton! Clinton!

Please! Please!

S-- Son of a bitch!

Clinton? Is somebody there?

What's going on?

Darling.

You're so smart.

You didn't think it could be me.

He kept whispering. He kept
taunting me over and over again.

Darling, he was so mean.

Lee, Lee, you don't have...

I just, I-- I-- I would
like to go downstairs

and make a clean exit...
by myself.

Okay?

Don't worry, everybody, I'm okay.

Okay.

Sorry, Tom, but that
"clean exit" line bothers me.

Oh.

Oh, no.

Lee! Lee!

Lee, open up.

Goddamn it, Lee, unlock this
door or I'll break it down!

Mmm.

I like you, but go away.

I want a nap.

Then-- then we'll talk about
all kinds of stuff.

I'm okay.
I swear to God, I'm okay.

Alright, darling, if you say so.

I'll come back in a little while.

Okay?

Is she alright?

The door is locked,
but she talked to me and...

she just wants to be alone.

I'm...

I'm so...

It just never occurred to me.

You thought it was Anthony.

I don't even know what I thought.

- I'm sorry.
- Oh, don't be, Tom.

You got other things on your mind.

Well, what do you think?

Think there's anything
we can do to help?

Let me know what you come up with.

Oh, my God,
what a sick business this is!

Are you alright?

I am not.

I am in a deep state of shock.

Anthony just told me the deal

that Alice's ex-agents made for
her on the Douglas picture

and I will never get over it.
Would you like some cake?

- Yes, please.
- How's Tom?

He says he doesn't want
anything to eat.

- What about Lee?
- Not a sound.

He's been down half
a dozen times already.

Well, she's probably passed out.

Yeah, I never knew
she was a boozer.

- In and out.
- Oh, she was AA for a while.

Still locked.

She doesn't answer.

The captain must
have a master key.

- I got it.
- Oh.

Shall I wake her? I don't know.

- You want me to go with you?
- No, thank you.

Lee.

Lee darling?

You know, when I saw
her in that chapel,

murder was scrawled
all over her face.

My God, when I write
my autobiography,

that line is gonna
need a little help.

Well, I felt undercurrents
all evening.

Oh, now you felt undercurrents.

Well, you know, I knew it.

I mean, something
told me it was gonna be

a bummer in there.

You know, that door creaked open

even before I touched it.

You know and then Clinton
getting so physical,

and that awful,
faraway look in his eye.

Tom.

Lee?

Lee?

Lee?

Who is it?

- I'm sorry.
- Oh.

Oh, that's okay.

Have you met my fiancé?

Have you seen Lee?

No, uh-huh.
Why, is anything wrong?

Tom.

- Mm.
- Tom.

What?

Lee is not in her cabin.

Where is she?

She's not in your room,
she's not with Christine,

and Alice and Anthony are asleep.

Now what do we do?

I don't know.

I don't know.

Where's the captain?

How old do you think she was?

Don't think about it.

Thirty-five? Thirty-seven?

I hope you're around if I die.

- Wait a minute.
- I don't like getting morbid.

I sure hope someone's around.

Is it terrible,
just terrible to wonder

if you can get a good
hairdresser in this town?

Oh, Christine, you don't
really need all that

for one night ashore.

Listen, I've always dreamed
of being interrogated

in some cellar by some
slob with steel teeth

and I wanna look
terrific tomorrow.

Hey, listen.
Must be a taxi strike.

I mean, if we don't
get to the Majestic,

they'll give our rooms away.

I'll be right back, okay?

Besides which, Guido said
he'd take me dancing

tonight if I'd pay the check.
Isn't he cute?

I... can't tell you
how sorry I am.

I know. Are you free later?

Listen, darling, uh...

thanks for not letting on about,
you know, us yesterday.

Oh, well, I thought--

There was enough flak
in the air, right?

Well, there was.

Look... why don't we
cool it for a while,

aside from the bad press angle?

Let's be honest with each other.

Somehow, your being available

and my not being,
it's not the same.

You'll always be
the world's most attractive man.

God, what a thought I just got.

Namely?

If you get married again,
give me a call.

Isn't that awful?

See you tomorrow.

Goodbyes after an ocean voyage
are always so sad.

Whose fault is all this?

Clinton's? Lee's?

Mine?

Or Sheila, for being a tough
broad who liked to wander

around Bel Air at 2:00
in the morning?

Does that make any sense?

Nothing makes any sense.

Something Clinton said

keeps rattling around
in the back of my head,

if I could remember it.

You'll be at the Majestic?

My invitation was for
a week on the yacht.

I didn't bring any pocket money.

I'll see you tomorrow, I guess.

- Anthony?
- It's Tom.

What's going on here?

Jesus, are you waiting
for the other members

of your coven or what?

I've been calling your hotel.

Something's not at all right.

What are you doing?

I'm experimenting.

Look at this cigarette.

It's the original stub.

It's what I went down
to ask Lee about last night.

Later, I dismissed it
from my mind as a whim.

But tonight...

It's the shape.

Mm. That bothered me, too.

Stamp it out.

Aha.

Now...

Try this one.

Quickly, just once.

Uh-huh.

No, let it burn out.

You see, if it's dark
and it's awkward for you...

you may stamp on the filter
instead of the lit end.

If you only have one shot at it.

As Clinton did.

Clinton?

It was in the box where
he was killed, after all.

- Bear with me, please.
- What--

Now, remember, we both thought
this came from the priest's box.

It doesn't. That wood was carved.

This is plain.

It's from the side grille.

How did it find its way
into Clinton's robe?

Someone broke the grille.

Ah!

You're saying, who?

Could we be shy one
actor in the piece?

Meaning someone
who saw the whole thing.

Now, none of it would seem
quite so sinister...

if it weren't for this.

We found Lee in
Clinton's stateroom.

But her cabin was locked
from the outside.

What could she have
locked it with?

The only key to the cabins
was in the wheelhouse.

Mmm, well, she probably
went into the john

and out through my cabin.

No, because your door

to the bathroom
was bolted from the inside.

I had to unbolt it myself.

There's got to be
some explanation.

The point is that anybody could
have taken the key last night.

Then again...

maybe Clinton broke the grille,
nobody else was there...

and I'm just puttering my way

through the debris
of my rusty imagination.

Tom.

Mmm.

He kept whispering.

Where's the ice pick?

And then that awful,
faraway look in his eye.

What?

I said, where's
the bloody ice pick?

I don't know. It was...

It's been missing
since yesterday afternoon.

Tom.

The back of Clinton's cowl
was stained with blood.

Of course.

You can't strike a man in the face

and the back of the neck
with the same blow.

Meaning that Lee only thought
that she killed Clinton.

Did the police examine the body?

No, what was the point of it?
W-- w-- why bother?

She confessed.
Thomas, we've lost our touch.

A good director
and a good detective

ought to pay more
attention to detail.

Now, allow me, please.
This is the director's cut.

The important moment happened

before Lee came into the chapel.

Whoever it was lit a cigarette

and-- and dropped it
through the grille.

Hey.

And then, as-- as Clinton leaned
forward to stamp it out

stabbed him in the back of
his neck with the ice pick.

Then, I assume, he started to
leave the field, but...

Just give us the news, please.

...the timing was unlucky
because Christine entered.

Now, Christine was sitting
there last night

chattering about the game.

That door creaking open
even before I got to it

and then Clinton
getting so physical.

Tom, the door was... open
when I came into the chapel.

Me, too. He wanted it to stay open

so everybody could hear the tape.

Exactly.

So who closed it?
Why did it creak open

when Christine came towards it?

Because he was trying to get out.

Yes.

He was compelled to... improvise.

He impersonated Clinton.

But the grille that he had smashed

meant that he couldn't let
her into the left side-

So he forced open the door
at the opposite end.

Now... he might have hoped
to make a run for it

but the, but the sprung door
meant that Christine

would have a clear view of anyone

trying to sneak out of the chapel.

I happened to notice that
when we discovered the body.

Small wonder that
Clinton had that,

"An awful, faraway
look in his eye."

Shh.

Then Alice has the
homosexual card.

Just keep your voice down
and get the hell out.

Now...

the moment Christine left,

he intended to duck out
as soon as he possibly could

but the timing was still unlucky
because somebody else came in,

Lee-

Now, she wasn't going to go until

she'd had her showdown
with Clinton.

So he... he drove her into
a state of hysteria,

convinced that she'd
panic and run.

Now, this is taking
an awful chance

because she could have
raised her voice enough

to draw attention.

But luck was on the
murderer's side

because Lee presented him
with the best possible solution.

She exploded.

She killed a dead man.

And needlessly committed suicide.

Somebody killed my wife.

Not Christine.

Um...

Alice? Anthony.

Oh, my God.

Tom, what are you gonna do?

Hold on, I'll be right back.

I like any game
where you don't have to move.

Well, you don't have to
for this one.

If you're smart enough.

No, no, no, no, no.
Don't throw it away.

Keep them till Saturday.

Just as long as you're fit for

Saturday night,
which is your biggie.

- Saturday?
- Yeah.

Mm, she was AA for a while.

If you're smart enough.

She was AA for a while.

What did you find?

The beginnings of an idea.

Uh-hmm.

You seem pleased with yourself.

I've had the beginnings of an
idea, too, for a scenario.

It's about a middle-class
writer who is married

to a beautiful
and wealthy young woman.

Is this an original
or an adaptation?

After a few years,
she begins to bore him.

Not her money, she herself.

And then, while rewriting
a picture in Rome,

he renews his acquaintance
with a cheap

but... not untalented
young actress.

Aren't we getting a little
off the subject?

I told you something
had been nagging me.

Something Clinton
had said or done.

He said we didn't have to
move to play the game

if we were smart enough.

And just now...

I noticed this.

I thought he was
being unusually finicky

when he was lining us up.

See anything odd?

What's odd?

Everybody's being posed
under a letter.

So?

Now have a look at
these secret cards.

There's something peculiar
about one of them.

Come, come, Tom,
where's that puzzle mind?

"Little Child Molester."

"Little Child Molester?"

As opposed to what,
Big Child Molester?

I still don't get it.

The word "little."
What's it doing there?

Alright.

The first night, the "Shoplifter."

The second night,
the "Homosexual."

Now, we don't know
which the third was to be,

but Clinton told you that
the "Hit-and-run killer"

was to be last. So let's
try the "Ex-convict" next.

And then, just for fun,
"informer."

"Sheila."

Clinton needed "little"
to give him the "L."

God knows he could have found
six other secrets for us

but he wanted to make a game
for himself, too.

How to find six secrets that
formed an appropriate acronym.

The "L" was his only problem.

Clever son of a bitch.

Cleverer than that.

This photograph...

showing the six of us...

carefully posed under each
of the initial letters

of our assigned secrets.

Something in plain view
the whole week.

Something he could lord over us...

Sunday morning.

"Shoplifter, Homosexual,
Ex-convict...

Informer, Little Child Molester.

Hit-and-run Killer?"

The last of "Sheila"
should be an "A."

"Hit-and-run" doesn't begin
with an "A," does it, Tom?

It's a mistake.

Not Clinton's.

I remember something else
about the first day.

You started to crumple your card.

This one is smooth.

That was dumb, Tom.

What was your original card?

Alright, let me make
an educated guess.

Something about Lee. Arsonist?

No, that doesn't sound like Lee.

Adulterer? No, that's you.

A, A, Alcoholic?

That's the secret.

Like the others, not too heavy,
not too light.

After all, Clinton was
only a minor-league sadist.

His aim was to make us
uncomfortable, not violent.

As he kept saying,
it was only a game.

You made it more than that.
You killed him.

Why should I wanna kill Lee?

Alice.

Lee's estate must be worth
about... three million?

Five.

You'd always known
she'd killed Sheila, hadn't you?

Sure.

I knew it the day
I got my statement

from Harry's Rent-A-Car.

Dented fenders, Vegas.

I didn't have to be a genius
to put two and two together.

Fade in. Exterior.

Day. The yacht, the game.

You get the "Alcoholic" card

and realize what Clinton is up to.

Not until Alice so generously
told me her leopard coat story.

That late?

At any rate...

selecting the ice pick.

A classic woman's weapon.

When did you take it, I wonder?

Private finance
is not that uncommon now.

Hmm. Can you imagine
how Tom would feel about that?

You skipped down
to expunge Clinton.

Typed up a new card that
would incriminate Lee

and toddle off to sleep soundly

to await the alarms
of the morning.

Ah...

I should've recognized the hatred

on your face outside
Clinton's door.

Was that to have been
the moment of truth?

Alas, Clinton and
Christine were having

their own moment of truth.

Dissolve.

The next day, you did
substitute the cards

and arranged for Lee
to see the wrong one

making her think Clinton had
sadistic plans to expose her.

The stage was set.

Subsequent investigation
of the cards would now

point to Lee as the only person

with a motive strong
enough for murder.

Would you care to
explain how I started

the propellers with
Guido in the room?

No.

That was my contribution.

You wanted Clinton dead, too.

You see, I'd helped Alice

out of her little unpleasantness,

Io those many years ago.

So when we began playing the game,

looking for a shoplifter...

I knew some ugly truths
would be trotted out.

Not in the least mine.

I wanted it stopped.

As you pointed out so astutely
yesterday, I blundered

but it gave you
courage to carry on.

What do you think?

Am I gonna get away with it?

You pretended your
back was hurting

to coax Clinton into revealing...

what day your secret
would be played.

Just as long as you're ready
for Saturday night,

which is your biggie.

It was only Tuesday.
Four days' grace.

Clinton's choice of
a location was a gift.

But you had to...

...make sure that you
found him before Lee

confronted him with
the false card.

So you followed me because I'd

been boastful enough to hint

that I'd figured out the clue.

After my session, you came in

and proceeded to play Clinton's
game as well as your own.

Maybe if I open the door

to the chapel a little wider?

Hey, what the hell?

Then you put on your
little ventriloquist act

for... Christine and Lee.

I should've realized. We'd all
seen you impersonate Clinton.

Gang, going over your hand signals

for the bridge tournament?
Ha-ha-ha.

How'd I feel about what?

You know too much to live.

How convenient for you that Lee...

exploded.

But how inconvenient for you
that she thought quickly

and... arranged everything
to look like an accident.

You must have been furious.
So you...

rearranged everything
to look like a murder

that looked like an accident.

She had picked up the right stone.

You replaced it
with the wrong one.

I'll bet that other stone,
stained with blood,

is still in the corner.

As well as the cigarette that...

Lee actually smoked.

But, no matter,
you knew that the next day

when you conducted
your brilliant investigation,

Lee would naturally assume
that she had

made the mistake.
And it was brilliant.

What better detective than the
man who's committed the crime?

Every hesitant conclusion,
every stumbling interpretation.

And when you suddenly panicked,
protecting your wife

it was dazzling, dear boy.

It's after 12:00 already.

Is it?

Well, good.
That gives us plenty of time.

Because the entire crew
is happily celebrating

the death of their
master in the port.

Aren't we lucky?

I think so.

If you're thinking of
setting up for

another fake suicide sequence,

I must warn you of the
dangers of improvisation.

This last exploit had
far too many loose ends

even though you had four days
to prepare it.

You'd even planned for the
obligatory confession scene

the morning after the murder.

You knew that she would
need some fortification

when you started
turning the screws.

You felt you were safe

because no one else on-board
drank bourbon.

Which, incidentally, you don't
pour out of a porthole

and then toss the bottle
overboard.

You pour it down a drain.

Unless there's something
else you're anxious

to get rid of like seconal.

I don't have any gloves.

Oh.

Hey, you guys, knock it off!

Knock, you--

Jesus Christ, look at this place!

Oh!

Actually, we've been having

a little difference of opinion.

Yeah, well, we've all gotten
little squirrelly on this trip,

but don't you think you're
carrying it a little too far?

About the
"Last of Sheila" project.

But it's all straightened out now.

What are you doing on board?

I'm trying to sleep.

Well, not exactly.

Well, Guido took over for Vittorio

and asked me to keep him company.

So we went into Clinton's room
to listen to the stereo

and instead of getting mood music,

we get you two guys
yakking on the intercom.

I mean... dictate it tomorrow

when you can get a secretary,
you know.

He killed her, she killed him.

Oh, that's a good idea but, uh,

we're agreed on the basics,
wouldn't you say, Tom?

Uh, now that the truths are known,

we've begun to see
this as a big, big project.

There are gigantic themes here,
worthy of Dostoyevsky.

There's innocence...

guilt...

hatred...

loyalty.

Lee's ambitions for Tom were
such that we, as survivors,

feel bound to tell Sheila's story

in all its pitiless purity,
sparing nothing.

Big budget, huh?

I feel five million
should cover it.

Well, Alice's price just went up.

Tom, nobody can write it better
than you. Who handles you again?

Oh, well, actually..

I'm keen on having the first draft

done by a complete outsider.

Someone who will bring a naivety

to our little inbred circle.

Of course, Tom will be
needed as technical advisor.

And just before shooting,
for a few...

Rewrites.

Rewrites, exactly.

Well, I think I'll turn in.

I'm almost dead on my feet.

So much to do tomorrow.

And still a few pages
to type tonight.

Sealed letter to my solicitor.

Protecting the copyright
sort of thing.

In these perilous times,
one can't be too careful.

- Coming, Christine?
- Mm.

Honey, let me hit you
with a couple names.

Yul Brynner as Clinton.
Paul and Joanne as Tom and Lee.

I don't know, I hope it's got
enough content for them.

Who have I got for Alice?
Oh, I know, Carly Simon!

I mean, the soundtrack album
alone will pay for her clothes.

Now, now, don't scream.

Virna Lisi.

No, darling, as me!