Out of the Unknown (1965) s04e04 Episode Script
Deathday
1 [theme music plays.]
Adam, breakfast! [clattering.]
Just a moment.
[heartbeat pulsing.]
Adam, breakfast's getting cold.
Do hurry up.
[David's voice in Adam's head.]
I love you.
David.
I love you.
David.
Adam? Adam, how many more times must I tell you breakfast-- What's the matter? Are you ill? David's letter? I didn't expect you to search my bag.
- I needed aspirins.
- Yes.
Well, I suppose something like that had to happen.
Who is he? Not anyone you know.
- Iâm sorry.
- Sorry? That you had to find out like this.
The last thing I want to do is to hurt you, please believe that.
Don't let's be silly, shall we? Tell me, it isn't true.
Shall we talk about it over breakfast? Come along.
Adam, do come on.
Sit down and eat your cereal, dear.
[scraping.]
Is it serious? Do you mean is it worth a divorce? I don't want a divorce.
I love you.
That's what I thought.
No, it's only physical.
Physical? Iâm only human, flesh and blood.
We both are.
You wouldn't think so from your past performance.
I haven't done so badly.
We've done our duty by the marriage service, - if that's what you mean.
- If we'd had a child-- I don't want a child, not now.
Iâm over 30 and I want love.
I love you.
Adam, dear, you're very considerate, affectionate, domesticated.
Iâm very fond of you.
And there's no reason why we shouldn't continue.
What? Neither of us wants a divorce.
I need security and you need looking after.
But to you, the most important thing in your life is your work.
What do I have? So this David is just a hobby and medicinal pastime.
David is my lover.
I can quite appreciate that your pride has suffered, but let's be intelligent and constructive, shall we? You expect me to condone this filth.
Itâs a matter of give and take, that's all.
No.
Adam, whether you like it or not, Iâm not prepared to give David up.
It means too much.
I want him.
A bloody gigolo.
David is married with two children.
He is gentle, passionate and he knows what he's doing.
- He is not an amateur.
- Oh, for God's sake.
Personally, I think we should have no trouble in coming to an arrangement.
You'll manage.
You're my wife.
Yes.
Except in the bedroom.
Iâll do anything.
You could never do anything except be what you are, average, safe, suburban.
You always wanted security.
And got it.
Everything about us is safe, even your job.
Any other local journalist would have ambition.
Here's you, centre pages.
Double-Crosse two columns of readers' questions.
My articles get more letters-- Your articles could be written by Aunt Edna.
Why aren't you covering that? That's everything you're not.
Positive, basic, masculine! Why didn't you dare to tackle something different? It was you who said no when I wanted to go freelance.
It was you who was so afraid of losing your damn security.
I was afraid of you failing.
No, that wasn't the reason, no How could I ever tell you the truth? I protected you constantly.
I guided you, taught you, mothered you like a child.
You smothered me with your damn need for security.
Everything was done to make life good for you.
- You never even realised-- - âNo children,â you said.
That was the most difficult sacrifice of all.
I wanted children.
But you couldn't.
Iâm going out tonight.
No.
Adam, don't be tiresome.
Iâve said we must be sensible.
Stop it! I just wanted you to know where you stand.
Now, Iâm going to wash up and then Iâm going to bake a cake.
Itâs a lovely day.
Haven't you any little jobs to do? Why don't you clean the car? Lydia, please-- We'll talk again later, if you'd like.
The worst is over, really, isn't it? Hmm? Come along.
Out you go.
[door scrapes.]
[heartbeat pulsing.]
[Lydia's voice.]
David David David Itâs only physical.
David is my lover.
[engine revs.]
Two children Children.
He's not an amateur.
[Adam's voice.]
You're my wife.
[Lydia's voice.]
Not in the bedroom.
[Lydia's voice echoing.]
[Lydia.]
Itâs only physical.
David is my lover.
[Adam's voice.]
I wanted children.
[Lydia's voice.]
But you couldn't .
You couldn't.
Afraid of failing, darling? David is my lover.
Positive, basic, masculine.
Iâm going out tonight.
[Adam's voice.]
No.
[engine running.]
[engine continues to run.]
[Adam, thinking, distorted, echoing.]
Turn on the water.
[engine running.]
[heartbeat pulsing.]
Yes put her on the front page where she belongs.
Yes put her on the front page where she belongs.
[Adam, thinking.]
Go on, now, now, now.
[Lydia screams.]
[crashing.]
[engine revving.]
[doorbell rings.]
I suppose you know you're a danger to the community.
Beg your pardon? Your hose.
Your hose is flooding the footpath.
They don't issue us with rowing boats, you know.
- Sorry.
- Here.
Iâd switch your car off too, if I was you.
Morning.
[male voice reading.]
"Dear Adam Crosse, I did so love your dignified article on the first cuckold in spring.
â [rapid, heavy breathing.]
[rustling.]
[typewriter clicking.]
[faint hissing.]
[line ringing.]
[man.]
Crawfield 0136 Arnold, Adam Crosse here.
Last week's article on the chemical factory, Iâve had a letter.
The editorial conference isn't until Monday.
Let me read it to you.
Itâs very short.
âDear Adam Crosse, your stupid article on the chemistry set, I know what they really make up there.
Come and find out.
â And it's signed, Quilter.
So what? A crank.
Oh, it's crank very likely, but it would make a lively follow-up, don't you think? Maybe.
Is that all? I was gonna drive up there this morning.
Itâs about 40 miles.
Have a lovely day.
I thought I would get your sanction for expenses.
For pity's sake, stop being such an old woman.
Just make it worthwhile.
Goodbye.
[Arnold hangs up.]
Thank you, dear Arnold.
Goodbye.
[rustling.]
[splashing.]
[Lydia's voice, echoing.]
But Adam, it's too isolated.
But, Adam, why? Why come here at all? Away from all our friends.
I love you, David.
I love you, David.
David David David David [operator.]
No fault reported, caller.
Iâm sorry.
ln that case, operator, would you put that call through to Crawfield 1602, please.
Hold the line, please.
[operator dialling.]
[line ringing.]
[phone beeping.]
Hudson speaking.
[coins clattering.]
[beeping ceases.]
Hudson, old chap.
Adam Crosse here.
Look, I wondered if you can help me.
Iâm out in the country, a follow-up on last week's article, yes.
Trouble is Iâve tried phoning Lydia, there's no reply.
Oh, well.
She'll be out shopping, I expect.
Yes, I suppose so.
What I wanted to ask you was would you go in and pop into the house and tell her Iâll be back as soon as I can? Awful cheek to ask you like this, but I wouldn't want to worry her.
Of course, I will.
[chuckles.]
I thought for a minute you wanted me to supply an alibi for you, eh? You will go in, won't you? As soon as possible? [Hudson.]
Yes, of course.
Now, don't you worry.
Thanks.
[officer over radio.]
Proceed to injunction of Elm Street and Fell Avenue [voice breaking.]
Yes, it was Lydia.
Sorry to have to ask you this, Mr.
Crosse.
I want to help you.
You must find the man who did this terrible thing.
Roberts, just see everything is decent out there, will you? They've taken her Crosse, look, we're only friends in a way of business, I know, but if there's anything I can do.
Find Quilter.
Leave it to us.
He's the killer.
Iâm sure of it.
Now we don't know that.
That letter was a trap and to lure me from the house.
It could be sheer coincidence.
Or even an innocent hoax.
And to send me on a wild goose chase.
All right, all right.
We'll look into it.
What if there were some kind of clue? Not even a footprint.
There was mud and dirt everywhere at that cottage.
Look, I got it all over me.
[laughing, nervously.]
Forensic cleaned up the kitchen best they could, sir.
Lydia would have appreciated that.
Thank you.
Not at all.
We'll go now.
If there's any other information I can give you, Chief Inspector.
There is one thing, yeah.
Had your wife started her cooking when you left? I can't remember.
She said she was going to do some baking.
Pity that.
[Adam.]
Why? The oven, it kept the room and the body warm, makes it difficult to pinpoint the time of death.
Is that important? It could be.
Very important.
Oh, well.
We'll see ourselves out.
Take care.
[door closes.]
[weeping.]
[engine starts up outside.]
[continues to weep.]
[laughing.]
[attempts to contain laughter.]
[laughing loudly.]
Absent friends.
To David and Lydia.
[doorbell rings.]
Oh, Adam.
Dorothy and I wondered if you-- That isn't the answer, you know.
What? Drinking alone, it's not good.
Come in with us.
Really, Stanley, Iâm quite all right.
Itâs very kind of you.
Look, Adam, Dorothy and I, well, we thought perhaps you might like a, well, a meal or some company rather than staying here on your own.
The last thing I want to do is to bother you-- Adam, it's the least we can do.
Now, please come.
We really do want to help.
- You don't understand.
- Now come along.
- Come on.
- Thank you.
Now, Adam, what I meant was, well, would you like me to help organise things, announcements and so on? Is there any family to be told? No.
A lot of people will miss her.
She was such a generous-hearted girl.
Darling, Iâm trying to be practical, not sentimental, please.
Lydia wouldn't have wanted us to be sentimental.
But you're bound to get sympathy from your readers for a start.
They regard themselves as your friends, too.
One of those readers killed Lydia.
Iâm afraid I don't understand, Adam.
I mean, how on earth can-- [Adam.]
When I telephoned you this morning, I told you I was following up a reader's letter.
A crank I thought, but probably worth the effort.
That journey was a wild goose chase designed so that Lydia would be left on her own.
And you think that this letter writer-- - I know he did it.
- How dreadful! You've told the police, of course.
They have the letter.
It was signed, âQuilter.
â - [Hudson.]
Quilter? - Complete stranger, but he is a murderer, Iâm sure of it.
Of course, the signature could be a fake.
What? Well, this crank, as you put it, he wouldn't use his real name, surely? Quilter killed my wife.
Yes, yes, Adam, yes.
Yes, of course, he did.
You're humouring me, aren't you, Hudson.
Look, Adam, you've been through a terrible experience.
Yes, but you don't believe me, do you? A fixation brought on by shock, that's what you're thinking.
- An unreal imagining.
- Adam, please.
What would you know about it, middle class, middle-aged, safe, suburban! You mustn't torture yourself, think of Lydia.
Lydia, she was only physical.
[Hudson.]
Adam! Adam! Look, Adam, please.
Try not to let it get you down.
Oh, yes.
Chin up! Stiff upper lip.
Tell that to Lydia.
She'd appreciate that.
About time.
Adam Crosse.
Quite a write-up they've given you, haven't they? Look, Iâm not talking to the press.
Get out! You'll talk to me.
Iâm Quilter.
[heartbeat pulsing.]
Hope I haven't spoiled things for you.
What the hell are you talking about? This whole sordid business, front page, too.
Where you've always wanted to be.
[Adam.]
I know your sort.
One of those perverted tormentors.
Oh, for God's sake, Crosse, spare me the journalism.
Iâm Quilter.
Iâm going to telephone the police.
Go ahead.
[dialling.]
[line ringing.]
Iâd like a word with Chief Inspector Schofield myself about that alibi of yours.
Oh, it was very clever, your idea to create an invisible man.
I don't know what you mean.
But it wasn't very nice, was it? Using my name in vain like that.
I mean, an honest, upright citizen like me, think what I could get in damages.
Using my name as an alibi is as good as calling me a murderer.
If you're trying to blackmail me-- No, don't get all het up, old son.
What do you want? A look-see at the murder spot, for a start.
They did a good job of the cleaning up, haven't they? - Who? - Well, the police.
You're pretty forgetful, aren't you, for a so called journalist.
No wonder you're on the slide.
Iâve been through a terrifying experience.
- Yes, of course, you have.
- My wife has been murdered.
Yes, I know.
Baking a cake, I gather.
Was it a blood pudding? [heartbeat pulsing.]
[Quilter.]
Thought you were made of stronger stuff, Crosse.
You're not such a cool customer as you look, are you? - [Adam.]
Why have you come here? - Iâm curious.
[Quilter chuckles.]
And what's so amusing? Itâs all Lydia, isn't it? Itâs as though your personality never had any significance.
You were dominated.
Inadequate.
But now Lydia's out of the way, you can change all that.
Or can you? She was a bitch, wasn't she? She was my wife.
Yes, I know.
For better or for worse especially in bed, eh? - Who the hell are you? - Have another drink.
- Answer my question.
- Do as you're told! [Adam.]
You've been here before, haven't you? - Have I? -You knew Lydia, knew her well.
Not as well as you.
You're David, you're her lover.
Ah.
So that's why you killed her.
- I didn't.
- Jealousy.
No.
He was better equipped than you, wasn't he? Physically.
Were you her lover? Why, what are you going to do? Beat me up or thank me? Oh, you're not the physical type, just violent.
Stop it! You've got one of your headaches coming, haven't you? - No.
- Oh, how noble.
You masochistic pansy! You enjoy the pain, don't you? Itâs got a pulse, a rhythm.
Itâs there, isn't it? Hurt-hurt-hurt.
You are her lover! Iâm not David, I can't be.
You know that, think about it.
[frantically.]
I can't! [Quilter.]
Oh, do I frighten you, then? Who the hell are you? Let's just say, Iâm a free agent, but an interested party.
And I know about you.
Get out of here! Get out! Look at you, the complete suburban superman, journalist of the year, front page of every national daily.
[shattering.]
Shut up! Now, now, Iâm not Lydia.
Damn you! And damn Lydia! Adam, I was just coming over to fetch you.
- I can't stop now.
- Oh, now, come on, come on.
Look, you can't stay in there by yourself.
Come on in with us.
It won't take a minute to make up a bed.
Perhaps, a couple of tablets [reporter over TV.]
If there's any connection between.
a good night's sleep and then tomorrow-- Well, tomorrow you'll feel as right as rain.
[reporter on TV.]
Chief Inspector Schofield Any person who was in the vicinity at approximately 10:30 this morning is asked to contact their nearest police station.
[Lydia's voice.]
Itâs only physical, Adam.
Itâs only physical, Adam.
Itâs only physical, Adam.
Adam? Adam! [engine starts up.]
[car pulls away.]
[Quilter.]
Think you'd got away with it, Crosse? [honking.]
Easy, does it, old chap.
For God's sake, stop persecuting me.
But we're just getting to know each other.
I don't know you.
I don't want to know you.
Oh, but you do.
I've been watching you, Crosse.
You're clever, you've got a brain, you've got nerve and you're subtle, not blatant.
- I like that.
- I know I've got potential.
Of course, you have.
There's an untapped stream inside you, Crosse, a power, - creative power.
- You think so? But it's twisted, Crosse.
Malignant.
- And it's got you trapped.
- No.
You're a prisoner, Crosse.
Lydia's prisoner, even now.
Iâm a free man.
I can do what I want.
Can you? I bet the girls in the office have got a nickname for you.
âLoo-Loo,â because you're always on the run.
[woman's voice.]
Good morning, Adam.
Hello, Loo-Loo.
Good morning, Loo-Loo.
Have me, Loo-Loo.
[mocking laughter.]
[brakes screech.]
[woman.]
Did you know your car door's open? Don't you want it closed? From the inside.
Sit in.
Okay.
- A bit antique, isn't it? - What? The car.
It's not exactly Mille Miglia.
Itâs a stand-in.
- You getting a new car? - I wrote off the Jag.
- You getting a new car? - Dino Coupe.
- Super.
I like sports cars.
- And their drivers? Them, too, if they're nice.
- I can be nice.
- Can you? Yeah, that sends me.
- What does? - That smile.
Do you only have a look at girls' teeth? The rest of you looks pretty great, too.
I know.
What would you do if you found somebody else in bed with your lover? Of course, it is his pad.
- Walk out.
- I did.
Itâs your life.
Nobody owns you.
Trouble is, all my things are there.
- Iâve got absolutely nothing.
- You need help.
I need a bed for the night.
That's no trouble.
All right.
- But no strings.
- No.
No strings.
A crime of passion? He's not that type.
His alibi's like a flaming guided tour.
Everywhere he went, he either left a trail or brought back a clue.
There wasn't one minute he couldn't account for.
You wanted facts.
Oh, no.
It smells all wrong.
Oh, come on.
Look, I know Adam Crosse.
He's a journalist.
Facts are food and drink to him.
He's trained to get things right.
And you like him and all, don't you? Iâve known him a long time.
You don't reckon on her having a lover? Never.
It could happen.
And provide you with a convenient motive, granted.
But where's your proof? I just don't see why you're so sure it's not him.
Look, I told you, he's clever, precise, a bit dry, not wild or passionate.
He's just a good, solid, suburban citizen who lives by the rules.
I mean, just look at the killing.
Crosse couldn't do it.
Not that way.
- Perhaps not.
- So what's left? A brutal bloody murder in a kitchen.
But he doesn't fit the Kitchen Killer type.
Tell that to the victim.
I thought you said you were a writer.
- I am.
- Here? Writers live in houses, too, you know.
I know.
You're a journalist.
- Admit it.
- What if I am? I know about journalists.
Well then-- Look, Iâm not ten minute Tallulah.
You're absolutely gorgeous.
Well, don't get a muck sweat on.
There's a good chap.
And besides, think of the neighbours.
Itâs us that's important.
Oh, darling, this thing is bigger than both of us.
Iâm serious.
Iâm Joanne.
We haven't been introduced, have we? Adam.
So this is the Garden of Eden? Imagine an angel with a flaming sword ever coming here.
You'd make it look like a palace.
Do you talk like that to your wife? Itâs no wonder she isn't home.
Does that bother you? Why? Did you fancy a threesome? How do you mean? Oh, Adam, you absolute goof.
Itâs all right.
I am not butch and I don't welsh.
- If you only knew.
- I do know.
- You want me.
- Yes.
- Then don't be clumsy.
- Iâm sorry.
And don't be such a creep.
Be a man.
Not yet.
I want to be pampered.
- Anything.
- A shower? - Upstairs.
- Iâll find it.
- Iâll put a record on.
- Super.
And Iâll have a large Scotch with ice, and a big cheesy sandwich.
And then, if you're lucky.
[doorbell rings.]
Who is it? - What do you want? - Adam, it's me, Stanley.
I wondered if you'd like to come out for a short stroll, - blow away the cobwebs.
- No.
Just as you like, but Shall I come in and sit with you for a while, share a small nightcap, eh? - No, I'm all right.
- Look, Adam.
Adam, Dorothy and I, well, we're very concerned about you.
Sleep at our house, just for tonight.
No, go away.
[Quilter.]
You dirty old lecher.
[heartbeat pulsing.]
Nearly got caught out, didn't you? [chuckles.]
Oh, she's a delightful piece, Crosse.
Skin like a peach.
And did you see the way the body moved under the dress? Mother naked and so young.
Get out! You're going to need some help Someone who can do the job satisfactorily.
Just as well Iâm here.
Itâs going to be fun, the three of us.
- You're not staying here.
- Oh, but I am, old chap, brought my toothbrush and towel.
See? Itâs going in the street this minute and you with it! You can't frighten me! Adam.
Lydia.
Iâm Joanne, remember? Is it all ready and super? Don't let's-- Iâm not going to bed yet.
I want a drink! I know, you've got a surprise in there for me.
Seduction City.
What a trip.
- The record.
- Where's the bloody drink? [record plays.]
[Joanne laughs loudly.]
- Oh, it's too much.
- Iâm sorry.
Iâm sorry, Joanne.
Oh, it's great! Itâs a real suburban orgy.
Where did you get the snake, Adam? Under the settee, along with all your porny picture books and your inflatable, plastic wife? I know everything's gone wrong, but-- That's all part of the game, isn't it? Did you ever manage to make your wife, Adam? Look at you, middle-aged peeping Tom who likes to tickle little girls.
Strip show Johnny.
Did you ever dare to look at your wife naked? I want you.
Of course, darling, but could you do anything? You'd probably need permission first.
Iâm not an amateur! Oh, a specialist.
What in? Dirty daydreams? No.
What I want is real.
But it has to be kinky? Different? Is that it? No.
- Then rape me.
- I only want to love you.
Oh, God! Why do suburban men have to be so useless! [Lydia's voice.]
David is my lover.
He knows what he's doing.
Do you know what action is? What have you done with your pretty little life, except eat and sleep and fornicate? You still live inside the rules, but I dare to break them.
Twelve hours ago, I disposed of my wife.
She was slowly destroying me, like you, trying to cripple my mind, rejecting me, but I liberated myself.
I killed her.
I was only playing.
You can't escape me.
No one can.
You are a victim.
[clattering, fumbling.]
[heartbeat pulsing.]
[door slams.]
Don't leave me! Please don't leave me! [Quilter.]
You poor fool.
Now you've done it.
Given the game away completely, haven't you? I haven't done anything.
Tell that to the police.
They'll be here very soon.
She wouldn't tell them.
Lydia wouldn't tell them.
She was always so loyal.
She'll come back, she'll stay.
[Quilter.]
Lydia's gone.
Gone for good.
But Iâm here.
Iâll look after you.
Let me go! You pathetic creature.
Can you feel the pain now? The memories, aching and bleeding like Lydia's head? And you, Lydia's cuckold, that girlâs plaything, broken, spineless.
My head! All right, thanks very much.
That's Sergeant Flash from the Yard.
They've picked up the Kitchen Killer bloke.
Been holding him in custody since this morning in Liverpool.
I want to report an attempted murder.
She'll come back! No, Crosse.
Lydia's dead.
The girlâs gone.
There's no escape from the pain.
Don't hurt me.
Please, don't hurt me.
Itâs too late to ask for mercy.
Help me, please.
After what you did? - I loved her.
- Look at her face.
You needed Lydia, yet, you killed her.
You needed the girl, yet, you drove her away.
But Iâm here and I know what you are.
For God's sake, give me peace! Useless old queer.
Poor, poor Adam.
Murderer.
You are not an amateur, darling.
Itâs only physical.
Have me, Adam, murderer.
She'd let you, Crosse, in the kitchen.
Take her in the kitchen, go on.
Itâs a blood pudding, dear.
Adam, you can do it.
Adam, you can do it.
Come on.
Make it here.
[Lydia's voice.]
Lovely day.
Such a lovely day.
Anything to do? Any little jobs to do? Why did you kill Lydia? She loved you.
Iâm not finished yet.
What is there left? Only the shadows in your mind and the refuge of an asylum.
- I can kill you! - Can you? But I don't exist and you realise that your sense of guilt created me.
There's only one way you can get rid of me.
[Quilter.]
I am you! [siren wailing.]
[Quilter.]
I am you.
I am you.
Self-inflicted, definitely.
Adam, breakfast! [clattering.]
Just a moment.
[heartbeat pulsing.]
Adam, breakfast's getting cold.
Do hurry up.
[David's voice in Adam's head.]
I love you.
David.
I love you.
David.
Adam? Adam, how many more times must I tell you breakfast-- What's the matter? Are you ill? David's letter? I didn't expect you to search my bag.
- I needed aspirins.
- Yes.
Well, I suppose something like that had to happen.
Who is he? Not anyone you know.
- Iâm sorry.
- Sorry? That you had to find out like this.
The last thing I want to do is to hurt you, please believe that.
Don't let's be silly, shall we? Tell me, it isn't true.
Shall we talk about it over breakfast? Come along.
Adam, do come on.
Sit down and eat your cereal, dear.
[scraping.]
Is it serious? Do you mean is it worth a divorce? I don't want a divorce.
I love you.
That's what I thought.
No, it's only physical.
Physical? Iâm only human, flesh and blood.
We both are.
You wouldn't think so from your past performance.
I haven't done so badly.
We've done our duty by the marriage service, - if that's what you mean.
- If we'd had a child-- I don't want a child, not now.
Iâm over 30 and I want love.
I love you.
Adam, dear, you're very considerate, affectionate, domesticated.
Iâm very fond of you.
And there's no reason why we shouldn't continue.
What? Neither of us wants a divorce.
I need security and you need looking after.
But to you, the most important thing in your life is your work.
What do I have? So this David is just a hobby and medicinal pastime.
David is my lover.
I can quite appreciate that your pride has suffered, but let's be intelligent and constructive, shall we? You expect me to condone this filth.
Itâs a matter of give and take, that's all.
No.
Adam, whether you like it or not, Iâm not prepared to give David up.
It means too much.
I want him.
A bloody gigolo.
David is married with two children.
He is gentle, passionate and he knows what he's doing.
- He is not an amateur.
- Oh, for God's sake.
Personally, I think we should have no trouble in coming to an arrangement.
You'll manage.
You're my wife.
Yes.
Except in the bedroom.
Iâll do anything.
You could never do anything except be what you are, average, safe, suburban.
You always wanted security.
And got it.
Everything about us is safe, even your job.
Any other local journalist would have ambition.
Here's you, centre pages.
Double-Crosse two columns of readers' questions.
My articles get more letters-- Your articles could be written by Aunt Edna.
Why aren't you covering that? That's everything you're not.
Positive, basic, masculine! Why didn't you dare to tackle something different? It was you who said no when I wanted to go freelance.
It was you who was so afraid of losing your damn security.
I was afraid of you failing.
No, that wasn't the reason, no How could I ever tell you the truth? I protected you constantly.
I guided you, taught you, mothered you like a child.
You smothered me with your damn need for security.
Everything was done to make life good for you.
- You never even realised-- - âNo children,â you said.
That was the most difficult sacrifice of all.
I wanted children.
But you couldn't.
Iâm going out tonight.
No.
Adam, don't be tiresome.
Iâve said we must be sensible.
Stop it! I just wanted you to know where you stand.
Now, Iâm going to wash up and then Iâm going to bake a cake.
Itâs a lovely day.
Haven't you any little jobs to do? Why don't you clean the car? Lydia, please-- We'll talk again later, if you'd like.
The worst is over, really, isn't it? Hmm? Come along.
Out you go.
[door scrapes.]
[heartbeat pulsing.]
[Lydia's voice.]
David David David Itâs only physical.
David is my lover.
[engine revs.]
Two children Children.
He's not an amateur.
[Adam's voice.]
You're my wife.
[Lydia's voice.]
Not in the bedroom.
[Lydia's voice echoing.]
[Lydia.]
Itâs only physical.
David is my lover.
[Adam's voice.]
I wanted children.
[Lydia's voice.]
But you couldn't .
You couldn't.
Afraid of failing, darling? David is my lover.
Positive, basic, masculine.
Iâm going out tonight.
[Adam's voice.]
No.
[engine running.]
[engine continues to run.]
[Adam, thinking, distorted, echoing.]
Turn on the water.
[engine running.]
[heartbeat pulsing.]
Yes put her on the front page where she belongs.
Yes put her on the front page where she belongs.
[Adam, thinking.]
Go on, now, now, now.
[Lydia screams.]
[crashing.]
[engine revving.]
[doorbell rings.]
I suppose you know you're a danger to the community.
Beg your pardon? Your hose.
Your hose is flooding the footpath.
They don't issue us with rowing boats, you know.
- Sorry.
- Here.
Iâd switch your car off too, if I was you.
Morning.
[male voice reading.]
"Dear Adam Crosse, I did so love your dignified article on the first cuckold in spring.
â [rapid, heavy breathing.]
[rustling.]
[typewriter clicking.]
[faint hissing.]
[line ringing.]
[man.]
Crawfield 0136 Arnold, Adam Crosse here.
Last week's article on the chemical factory, Iâve had a letter.
The editorial conference isn't until Monday.
Let me read it to you.
Itâs very short.
âDear Adam Crosse, your stupid article on the chemistry set, I know what they really make up there.
Come and find out.
â And it's signed, Quilter.
So what? A crank.
Oh, it's crank very likely, but it would make a lively follow-up, don't you think? Maybe.
Is that all? I was gonna drive up there this morning.
Itâs about 40 miles.
Have a lovely day.
I thought I would get your sanction for expenses.
For pity's sake, stop being such an old woman.
Just make it worthwhile.
Goodbye.
[Arnold hangs up.]
Thank you, dear Arnold.
Goodbye.
[rustling.]
[splashing.]
[Lydia's voice, echoing.]
But Adam, it's too isolated.
But, Adam, why? Why come here at all? Away from all our friends.
I love you, David.
I love you, David.
David David David David [operator.]
No fault reported, caller.
Iâm sorry.
ln that case, operator, would you put that call through to Crawfield 1602, please.
Hold the line, please.
[operator dialling.]
[line ringing.]
[phone beeping.]
Hudson speaking.
[coins clattering.]
[beeping ceases.]
Hudson, old chap.
Adam Crosse here.
Look, I wondered if you can help me.
Iâm out in the country, a follow-up on last week's article, yes.
Trouble is Iâve tried phoning Lydia, there's no reply.
Oh, well.
She'll be out shopping, I expect.
Yes, I suppose so.
What I wanted to ask you was would you go in and pop into the house and tell her Iâll be back as soon as I can? Awful cheek to ask you like this, but I wouldn't want to worry her.
Of course, I will.
[chuckles.]
I thought for a minute you wanted me to supply an alibi for you, eh? You will go in, won't you? As soon as possible? [Hudson.]
Yes, of course.
Now, don't you worry.
Thanks.
[officer over radio.]
Proceed to injunction of Elm Street and Fell Avenue [voice breaking.]
Yes, it was Lydia.
Sorry to have to ask you this, Mr.
Crosse.
I want to help you.
You must find the man who did this terrible thing.
Roberts, just see everything is decent out there, will you? They've taken her Crosse, look, we're only friends in a way of business, I know, but if there's anything I can do.
Find Quilter.
Leave it to us.
He's the killer.
Iâm sure of it.
Now we don't know that.
That letter was a trap and to lure me from the house.
It could be sheer coincidence.
Or even an innocent hoax.
And to send me on a wild goose chase.
All right, all right.
We'll look into it.
What if there were some kind of clue? Not even a footprint.
There was mud and dirt everywhere at that cottage.
Look, I got it all over me.
[laughing, nervously.]
Forensic cleaned up the kitchen best they could, sir.
Lydia would have appreciated that.
Thank you.
Not at all.
We'll go now.
If there's any other information I can give you, Chief Inspector.
There is one thing, yeah.
Had your wife started her cooking when you left? I can't remember.
She said she was going to do some baking.
Pity that.
[Adam.]
Why? The oven, it kept the room and the body warm, makes it difficult to pinpoint the time of death.
Is that important? It could be.
Very important.
Oh, well.
We'll see ourselves out.
Take care.
[door closes.]
[weeping.]
[engine starts up outside.]
[continues to weep.]
[laughing.]
[attempts to contain laughter.]
[laughing loudly.]
Absent friends.
To David and Lydia.
[doorbell rings.]
Oh, Adam.
Dorothy and I wondered if you-- That isn't the answer, you know.
What? Drinking alone, it's not good.
Come in with us.
Really, Stanley, Iâm quite all right.
Itâs very kind of you.
Look, Adam, Dorothy and I, well, we thought perhaps you might like a, well, a meal or some company rather than staying here on your own.
The last thing I want to do is to bother you-- Adam, it's the least we can do.
Now, please come.
We really do want to help.
- You don't understand.
- Now come along.
- Come on.
- Thank you.
Now, Adam, what I meant was, well, would you like me to help organise things, announcements and so on? Is there any family to be told? No.
A lot of people will miss her.
She was such a generous-hearted girl.
Darling, Iâm trying to be practical, not sentimental, please.
Lydia wouldn't have wanted us to be sentimental.
But you're bound to get sympathy from your readers for a start.
They regard themselves as your friends, too.
One of those readers killed Lydia.
Iâm afraid I don't understand, Adam.
I mean, how on earth can-- [Adam.]
When I telephoned you this morning, I told you I was following up a reader's letter.
A crank I thought, but probably worth the effort.
That journey was a wild goose chase designed so that Lydia would be left on her own.
And you think that this letter writer-- - I know he did it.
- How dreadful! You've told the police, of course.
They have the letter.
It was signed, âQuilter.
â - [Hudson.]
Quilter? - Complete stranger, but he is a murderer, Iâm sure of it.
Of course, the signature could be a fake.
What? Well, this crank, as you put it, he wouldn't use his real name, surely? Quilter killed my wife.
Yes, yes, Adam, yes.
Yes, of course, he did.
You're humouring me, aren't you, Hudson.
Look, Adam, you've been through a terrible experience.
Yes, but you don't believe me, do you? A fixation brought on by shock, that's what you're thinking.
- An unreal imagining.
- Adam, please.
What would you know about it, middle class, middle-aged, safe, suburban! You mustn't torture yourself, think of Lydia.
Lydia, she was only physical.
[Hudson.]
Adam! Adam! Look, Adam, please.
Try not to let it get you down.
Oh, yes.
Chin up! Stiff upper lip.
Tell that to Lydia.
She'd appreciate that.
About time.
Adam Crosse.
Quite a write-up they've given you, haven't they? Look, Iâm not talking to the press.
Get out! You'll talk to me.
Iâm Quilter.
[heartbeat pulsing.]
Hope I haven't spoiled things for you.
What the hell are you talking about? This whole sordid business, front page, too.
Where you've always wanted to be.
[Adam.]
I know your sort.
One of those perverted tormentors.
Oh, for God's sake, Crosse, spare me the journalism.
Iâm Quilter.
Iâm going to telephone the police.
Go ahead.
[dialling.]
[line ringing.]
Iâd like a word with Chief Inspector Schofield myself about that alibi of yours.
Oh, it was very clever, your idea to create an invisible man.
I don't know what you mean.
But it wasn't very nice, was it? Using my name in vain like that.
I mean, an honest, upright citizen like me, think what I could get in damages.
Using my name as an alibi is as good as calling me a murderer.
If you're trying to blackmail me-- No, don't get all het up, old son.
What do you want? A look-see at the murder spot, for a start.
They did a good job of the cleaning up, haven't they? - Who? - Well, the police.
You're pretty forgetful, aren't you, for a so called journalist.
No wonder you're on the slide.
Iâve been through a terrifying experience.
- Yes, of course, you have.
- My wife has been murdered.
Yes, I know.
Baking a cake, I gather.
Was it a blood pudding? [heartbeat pulsing.]
[Quilter.]
Thought you were made of stronger stuff, Crosse.
You're not such a cool customer as you look, are you? - [Adam.]
Why have you come here? - Iâm curious.
[Quilter chuckles.]
And what's so amusing? Itâs all Lydia, isn't it? Itâs as though your personality never had any significance.
You were dominated.
Inadequate.
But now Lydia's out of the way, you can change all that.
Or can you? She was a bitch, wasn't she? She was my wife.
Yes, I know.
For better or for worse especially in bed, eh? - Who the hell are you? - Have another drink.
- Answer my question.
- Do as you're told! [Adam.]
You've been here before, haven't you? - Have I? -You knew Lydia, knew her well.
Not as well as you.
You're David, you're her lover.
Ah.
So that's why you killed her.
- I didn't.
- Jealousy.
No.
He was better equipped than you, wasn't he? Physically.
Were you her lover? Why, what are you going to do? Beat me up or thank me? Oh, you're not the physical type, just violent.
Stop it! You've got one of your headaches coming, haven't you? - No.
- Oh, how noble.
You masochistic pansy! You enjoy the pain, don't you? Itâs got a pulse, a rhythm.
Itâs there, isn't it? Hurt-hurt-hurt.
You are her lover! Iâm not David, I can't be.
You know that, think about it.
[frantically.]
I can't! [Quilter.]
Oh, do I frighten you, then? Who the hell are you? Let's just say, Iâm a free agent, but an interested party.
And I know about you.
Get out of here! Get out! Look at you, the complete suburban superman, journalist of the year, front page of every national daily.
[shattering.]
Shut up! Now, now, Iâm not Lydia.
Damn you! And damn Lydia! Adam, I was just coming over to fetch you.
- I can't stop now.
- Oh, now, come on, come on.
Look, you can't stay in there by yourself.
Come on in with us.
It won't take a minute to make up a bed.
Perhaps, a couple of tablets [reporter over TV.]
If there's any connection between.
a good night's sleep and then tomorrow-- Well, tomorrow you'll feel as right as rain.
[reporter on TV.]
Chief Inspector Schofield Any person who was in the vicinity at approximately 10:30 this morning is asked to contact their nearest police station.
[Lydia's voice.]
Itâs only physical, Adam.
Itâs only physical, Adam.
Itâs only physical, Adam.
Adam? Adam! [engine starts up.]
[car pulls away.]
[Quilter.]
Think you'd got away with it, Crosse? [honking.]
Easy, does it, old chap.
For God's sake, stop persecuting me.
But we're just getting to know each other.
I don't know you.
I don't want to know you.
Oh, but you do.
I've been watching you, Crosse.
You're clever, you've got a brain, you've got nerve and you're subtle, not blatant.
- I like that.
- I know I've got potential.
Of course, you have.
There's an untapped stream inside you, Crosse, a power, - creative power.
- You think so? But it's twisted, Crosse.
Malignant.
- And it's got you trapped.
- No.
You're a prisoner, Crosse.
Lydia's prisoner, even now.
Iâm a free man.
I can do what I want.
Can you? I bet the girls in the office have got a nickname for you.
âLoo-Loo,â because you're always on the run.
[woman's voice.]
Good morning, Adam.
Hello, Loo-Loo.
Good morning, Loo-Loo.
Have me, Loo-Loo.
[mocking laughter.]
[brakes screech.]
[woman.]
Did you know your car door's open? Don't you want it closed? From the inside.
Sit in.
Okay.
- A bit antique, isn't it? - What? The car.
It's not exactly Mille Miglia.
Itâs a stand-in.
- You getting a new car? - I wrote off the Jag.
- You getting a new car? - Dino Coupe.
- Super.
I like sports cars.
- And their drivers? Them, too, if they're nice.
- I can be nice.
- Can you? Yeah, that sends me.
- What does? - That smile.
Do you only have a look at girls' teeth? The rest of you looks pretty great, too.
I know.
What would you do if you found somebody else in bed with your lover? Of course, it is his pad.
- Walk out.
- I did.
Itâs your life.
Nobody owns you.
Trouble is, all my things are there.
- Iâve got absolutely nothing.
- You need help.
I need a bed for the night.
That's no trouble.
All right.
- But no strings.
- No.
No strings.
A crime of passion? He's not that type.
His alibi's like a flaming guided tour.
Everywhere he went, he either left a trail or brought back a clue.
There wasn't one minute he couldn't account for.
You wanted facts.
Oh, no.
It smells all wrong.
Oh, come on.
Look, I know Adam Crosse.
He's a journalist.
Facts are food and drink to him.
He's trained to get things right.
And you like him and all, don't you? Iâve known him a long time.
You don't reckon on her having a lover? Never.
It could happen.
And provide you with a convenient motive, granted.
But where's your proof? I just don't see why you're so sure it's not him.
Look, I told you, he's clever, precise, a bit dry, not wild or passionate.
He's just a good, solid, suburban citizen who lives by the rules.
I mean, just look at the killing.
Crosse couldn't do it.
Not that way.
- Perhaps not.
- So what's left? A brutal bloody murder in a kitchen.
But he doesn't fit the Kitchen Killer type.
Tell that to the victim.
I thought you said you were a writer.
- I am.
- Here? Writers live in houses, too, you know.
I know.
You're a journalist.
- Admit it.
- What if I am? I know about journalists.
Well then-- Look, Iâm not ten minute Tallulah.
You're absolutely gorgeous.
Well, don't get a muck sweat on.
There's a good chap.
And besides, think of the neighbours.
Itâs us that's important.
Oh, darling, this thing is bigger than both of us.
Iâm serious.
Iâm Joanne.
We haven't been introduced, have we? Adam.
So this is the Garden of Eden? Imagine an angel with a flaming sword ever coming here.
You'd make it look like a palace.
Do you talk like that to your wife? Itâs no wonder she isn't home.
Does that bother you? Why? Did you fancy a threesome? How do you mean? Oh, Adam, you absolute goof.
Itâs all right.
I am not butch and I don't welsh.
- If you only knew.
- I do know.
- You want me.
- Yes.
- Then don't be clumsy.
- Iâm sorry.
And don't be such a creep.
Be a man.
Not yet.
I want to be pampered.
- Anything.
- A shower? - Upstairs.
- Iâll find it.
- Iâll put a record on.
- Super.
And Iâll have a large Scotch with ice, and a big cheesy sandwich.
And then, if you're lucky.
[doorbell rings.]
Who is it? - What do you want? - Adam, it's me, Stanley.
I wondered if you'd like to come out for a short stroll, - blow away the cobwebs.
- No.
Just as you like, but Shall I come in and sit with you for a while, share a small nightcap, eh? - No, I'm all right.
- Look, Adam.
Adam, Dorothy and I, well, we're very concerned about you.
Sleep at our house, just for tonight.
No, go away.
[Quilter.]
You dirty old lecher.
[heartbeat pulsing.]
Nearly got caught out, didn't you? [chuckles.]
Oh, she's a delightful piece, Crosse.
Skin like a peach.
And did you see the way the body moved under the dress? Mother naked and so young.
Get out! You're going to need some help Someone who can do the job satisfactorily.
Just as well Iâm here.
Itâs going to be fun, the three of us.
- You're not staying here.
- Oh, but I am, old chap, brought my toothbrush and towel.
See? Itâs going in the street this minute and you with it! You can't frighten me! Adam.
Lydia.
Iâm Joanne, remember? Is it all ready and super? Don't let's-- Iâm not going to bed yet.
I want a drink! I know, you've got a surprise in there for me.
Seduction City.
What a trip.
- The record.
- Where's the bloody drink? [record plays.]
[Joanne laughs loudly.]
- Oh, it's too much.
- Iâm sorry.
Iâm sorry, Joanne.
Oh, it's great! Itâs a real suburban orgy.
Where did you get the snake, Adam? Under the settee, along with all your porny picture books and your inflatable, plastic wife? I know everything's gone wrong, but-- That's all part of the game, isn't it? Did you ever manage to make your wife, Adam? Look at you, middle-aged peeping Tom who likes to tickle little girls.
Strip show Johnny.
Did you ever dare to look at your wife naked? I want you.
Of course, darling, but could you do anything? You'd probably need permission first.
Iâm not an amateur! Oh, a specialist.
What in? Dirty daydreams? No.
What I want is real.
But it has to be kinky? Different? Is that it? No.
- Then rape me.
- I only want to love you.
Oh, God! Why do suburban men have to be so useless! [Lydia's voice.]
David is my lover.
He knows what he's doing.
Do you know what action is? What have you done with your pretty little life, except eat and sleep and fornicate? You still live inside the rules, but I dare to break them.
Twelve hours ago, I disposed of my wife.
She was slowly destroying me, like you, trying to cripple my mind, rejecting me, but I liberated myself.
I killed her.
I was only playing.
You can't escape me.
No one can.
You are a victim.
[clattering, fumbling.]
[heartbeat pulsing.]
[door slams.]
Don't leave me! Please don't leave me! [Quilter.]
You poor fool.
Now you've done it.
Given the game away completely, haven't you? I haven't done anything.
Tell that to the police.
They'll be here very soon.
She wouldn't tell them.
Lydia wouldn't tell them.
She was always so loyal.
She'll come back, she'll stay.
[Quilter.]
Lydia's gone.
Gone for good.
But Iâm here.
Iâll look after you.
Let me go! You pathetic creature.
Can you feel the pain now? The memories, aching and bleeding like Lydia's head? And you, Lydia's cuckold, that girlâs plaything, broken, spineless.
My head! All right, thanks very much.
That's Sergeant Flash from the Yard.
They've picked up the Kitchen Killer bloke.
Been holding him in custody since this morning in Liverpool.
I want to report an attempted murder.
She'll come back! No, Crosse.
Lydia's dead.
The girlâs gone.
There's no escape from the pain.
Don't hurt me.
Please, don't hurt me.
Itâs too late to ask for mercy.
Help me, please.
After what you did? - I loved her.
- Look at her face.
You needed Lydia, yet, you killed her.
You needed the girl, yet, you drove her away.
But Iâm here and I know what you are.
For God's sake, give me peace! Useless old queer.
Poor, poor Adam.
Murderer.
You are not an amateur, darling.
Itâs only physical.
Have me, Adam, murderer.
She'd let you, Crosse, in the kitchen.
Take her in the kitchen, go on.
Itâs a blood pudding, dear.
Adam, you can do it.
Adam, you can do it.
Come on.
Make it here.
[Lydia's voice.]
Lovely day.
Such a lovely day.
Anything to do? Any little jobs to do? Why did you kill Lydia? She loved you.
Iâm not finished yet.
What is there left? Only the shadows in your mind and the refuge of an asylum.
- I can kill you! - Can you? But I don't exist and you realise that your sense of guilt created me.
There's only one way you can get rid of me.
[Quilter.]
I am you! [siren wailing.]
[Quilter.]
I am you.
I am you.
Self-inflicted, definitely.