Inside No. 9 (2014) s07e03 Episode Script
Nine Lives Kat
1
Oh, God.
Never again.
Vodka and Coco Pops? Are you serious? There's no milk.
Do you want me to eat them dry? You've only just got out of bed.
I know, I'm a walking cliche.
What can I tell you? Fetch me a spoon.
So, is this why they took you off the case? What, the drinking? Ah I can run round for round with any of those plods, and still not lose my lunch at an autopsy.
-You bounce back.
-Exactly.
Well, they do call you "Nine Lives Kat".
-Do they? -Yeah.
Short for Katrina.
Mm! Hear that, Kitney? I've got a nickname, just like you.
Kitney Spears.
Funny.
I used to have two, but David Meowie got run over.
That's good.
So, go on, then, why did they take you off the case? They're dinosaurs.
They can't stand being told the truth by a woman.
Simple as that.
My ex-husband is exactly the same.
Erm, ex-husbands.
-There's been more than one, remember? -Who's counting? You know what? I'll show them.
I will show them you do not need a cock and balls to crack a case, or stack a dishwasher in the most ergonomic way possible.
You just need .
.
a brain and a heart, and guts.
And that's what I've got.
You going to help me, or what? Of course I am .
.
Nine Lives Kat.
OK, bring me up to speed.
So, we've got five suspects who were all seen on CCTV in and around the area at the time of the abduction.
I'm still in the process of fleshing out their stories, but it seems two of them have links to the family that could throw up some interesting leads.
Let's not talk about throwing up.
Not until these Coco Pops have settled.
What about the stepfather? Surely he's our prime suspect.
I'd rather say he's "helping us with our inquiries".
Let's arrange a press conference for this afternoon.
If he breaks down in tears and says, "We just want our angel back," we know it's definitely him.
Will do.
I thought you were off the case.
There's a little boy out there tonight who's frightened.
He's trapped, he can't breathe .
.
and I'm going to find him.
I'm going to bring him out into the light and I don't care whose toes I have to tread on to do it.
When you were little and your milk teeth fell out, I used to take them from under your pillow and leave 50p.
And I'd keep them in a Tic Tac box in the bathroom cabinet.
When the job got too much for me, or your dad was being difficult .
.
I'd empty them into the palm of my hand and squeeze as hard as I could .
.
your teeth in my fist .
.
until I feltblood.
Until I felt .
.
alive.
Right, take me through it again.
11.
15am, Ashley finishes his karate lesson and is picked up from the Methodist church by his mum.
11.
30, they pull into the retail park, where Mum goes to McDonald's to buy a Happy Meal, telling Ashley to stay in the car.
Now, five minutes prior to this, we have the green Vauxhall Corsa parking up outside Hollywood Bowl driven by sunglasses man Mummy? Ohhh! God.
Trust you to be here.
Charming! Have you seen Kitney Spears? No.
She's, er, she's gone.
Ha! Dirty stop-out.
Mind you, I can talk.
So, what have you got for me? -How do you mean? -The missing boy.
Have you checked out the alibis of the five suspects? -That was a long time ago.
-What do you mean? Kat, I haven't seen you in several months.
I saw you two days ago.
What are you talking about?! Justgive me time to catch up.
-Where's it gone? -What? The entire investigation! Er, I've still got the notes.
I just didn't think it was good to put it up on the wall.
You have no right to tell me how to run this case.
No right at all! Do you hear me? I wasI was this close to making a breakthrough.
You're up.
Er, Katrina She prefers to be called Kat.
Ah.
I don't know what happened last night.
You seemed very agitated.
We'd both had a lot to drink.
But if it's any consolation, I don't think we actually Actually what? Elvis did not enter the building.
-Is this guy for real? -Sorry, you are? Er, DI Bull.
Barnabus Bull.
I'm a colleague of Katrina's.
We have a, sort of, love-hate relationship.
I'm sensing a hate phase at the moment Just shut up, Barney! I'm trying to think.
Sure, sure, although, er, strictly speaking, of course, all thinking is subconscious, because consciousness is an awareness of thoughts, not thinking itself, so you can't actually try to think.
Why don't you go and put the kettle on? I'm not sure it would fit.
No, I mean SWITCH the kettle on.
-I think we could all do with a drink.
-Oh, yeah, sure.
He's quite a character.
A bit spectrum-y, perhaps.
I'm not shagging him.
I know, I didn't say you were! It's just an interesting development, that's all.
Look, I know you think I'm taking this case too personally.
But I'm a woman.
And I empathise.
And I know how to fight, and I know how to dig my heels in.
And let me tell you size eight stilettos dig in deep.
Now, what have you done with my case notes? Erm, do you have any loose-leaf tea? I can't bear the bags.
They never steep in quite the right way.
One second.
Is that really the best we can do? Jump-scares with a cat? Whyare you always here? I don't remember giving you a key.
What happened to the missing boy - Ashley? What are you not telling me? I've tried with you, Katrina, I really, really have .
.
but I just don't think it's working.
Oh, please do not come in here! I have a system.
-I know where everything is.
-It's all right, Barnabus.
We can pick this up later.
What's he doing here? Get out of my bloody house! It's not your house, Kat.
It never was.
Come on, Katy.
Katy, there's a good girl.
Katy Purry.
A bit more contemporary.
I'd written a couple of collections of short stories, been nominated for a Gold Dagger, pretty healthy sales, when my publisher decided I ought to write a series of detective novels.
Well, I wasn't that keen, but I made a few notes, had a brainstorm, and out of nowhere, I wrote down "Nine Lives Kat".
-It's a good title.
-It is, yes.
Thank you.
So, I tinkered with the idea, er, made up some bog-standard case of a missing child just so I could interrogate the character and see if it added up to anything.
The characterbased on me? No, the character OF you.
Katrinasurname.
Never got that far.
Erm, late 40s, a couple of divorces, single mum, booze, pills, clashes with authority.
And what I realised when I read it back was .
.
it's all a bit cliched.
-I said that.
-I know.
I said that on page bloody one! I know you did and I should learn to listen to that critical voice.
But at the time, I was watching episodes of Cracker and Prime Suspect, and I thought, "I can write one of those!" So I tried, and you just turned out to be a bit Generic.
Fuck off, Rain Man.
It's all right, Katy! It's all right.
Anyway, I popped you down here in the bottom drawer for a while, and every now and again, I dig you out, see if there's anything I could work with.
I do a lot of screenwriting now, and the streaming platforms are always dying for female-led content.
That and dystopian fucking fantasy worlds, anyway.
You think you're some patriarchal creator? God of your own little universe? Well, sorry.
I'm real.
My life is real.
No, it isn't.
It isn't.
You're a fictional construct.
I mean, look around you.
Would a real person live like this? You know, one spoon, one bowl, one box of cereal? You're justa sketch, Kat, a first-thought idea.
-No, no.
-The boss, the ex-husbands, What are they? -They're just ciphers.
-No, I-I-I have a daughter.
And what's her name? You don't know, do you? Sh! Her name is You don't know, cos I never bothered to give her one.
She was just an afterthought, tacked on to try and make you more interesting.
No! No, no No! No! I've wrestled with this idea for some time, getting writer's block.
It was quite difficult, so I tried pairing you with another character to see if that would freshen things up a bit.
DI Barnabus Bull.
I just love that name.
It's so satisfying to say.
"Barnabus Bull.
" My publisher likes it, too.
I found out today.
Three-book deal.
Yes! Red Rag To A Bull, The Bull's-Eye, Bull Shit.
.
.
In A China Shop.
There's a long way to go yet before we have to worry about titles.
Sohe gets to have a life, and I go back in the bottom drawer just because he's got a .
.
unspecified mental illness? Stop shouting.
Stop shouting! Stop shouting! Stop shouting! There might be a victim's mother or a jealous mistress I can use you for, but in terms of this, Nine Lives Kat, flawed detective with inner demons .
.
we've seen it all before.
And whose fault is that? Yes, you're right.
It's not you, it's me.
Sothe missing boy, he's your son, isn't he? Ashley? Yeah, just a placeholder.
Something to visualise.
You know, people think that writing's all in the head, but sometimes you have to make it real for yourself.
Are those my notes? I've got to let you go.
Please don't.
You've run out of lives, Kat.
Oh, hi, Georgie.
I was just about to call you, actually.
Yeah, I'm just, er, finishing the synopsis for the new Bull.
It's a sort of locked-room mystery.
Quite pleased with it, actually.
Yeah, I will do.
Erm, now, listen, I was just wondering where we are with the TV rights.
Are they still with whatshisname at ITV? OK, cos I was watching Jude Law in The Talented Mr.
Ripley last night, and I was thinking he could be really good.
Or Matt Damon.
Yeah.
Yeah, he, erhe'd get the intensity, and, er, he was great in that Sky thing a couple of years ago.
Matt Damon! They're not going to get Matt Damon, all right? He's American! No, sorry, sorry, I was just talking to Philippa, Erm, OK, well, listen, I'll send it to you, and, er, you can let me know what you think.
Thanks, Georgie.
Bye for now.
Will you stop interfering in my private phone calls, please? -I'm only saying what you're thinking.
-Well, it's irritating.
You just concentrate on how Bull knew about the false floor in the basement.
Carpet tiles.
-What? -Carpet tiles.
Should've been black square to the left, like a chessboard.
When we got there, it was cream square to the left ergo someone must've taken them up and re-laid them.
Yes, like a chessboard.
So, if we make Colin gay and Alan a sir or something, we can say the Queen was taken by the knight! Brilliant! Hi! Hi.
Did you get everything? Yes.
It was busy, though.
Do you know how to do find my phone? What? I can't find it.
I think I had it in the car park when I arrived.
Someone must've had it out of my pocket.
Well, if you will go to Asda and not Waitrose Where were you when you sent me that text? -Which text? -About picking Ash up from swimming.
You were picking Ash up from swimming.
No, you texted me to say not to.
-No, I didn't.
-Yes, you did.
Look! That's not my text! Where is he? Ashley? Ashley?! He's not here.
I just told you.
-Why didn't you pick him up?! -Cos you said you were going to! What if someone took your wife's phone to send the text? What the fuck are you talking about? The fuck are YOU talking about? Where is he? Ezra! Where's my son?! Any news? Not yet.
Where is he, Ez? I can't bear it.
Sh.
He's going to be all right.
OK? He's going to be all right, I promise.
Oh, hello.
I thought I heard another voice.
I made some tea.
Thanks.
I'm Matilda Gordon.
Your wife's probably told you.
-I'm family liaison.
-She did, yes.
I'm a big fan.
Oh, thank you.
I'd love a selfie at at some point.
Erm, not now.
No.
No.
I was just asking your wife if you could think of anyone who might have a grudge against you.
Anyone you might have upset or offended? No.
No, I don't think so.
Nobody you based one of your characters on in your stories? I'm a writer.
I invent characters.
Of course.
And your sonsorry, stepson .
.
has he had any fallings-out or arguments recently? No, we've been through this already.
He was always well liked.
"Was"?! Is.
Sorry, Phil, I've just woken up.
I'm sorry.
It's the shock.
The body shuts down.
I went through your medicine cabinet .
.
to see if you were on any medication, and I found this hidden at the back.
They're teeth.
Children's teeth.
Are they Ashley's? Philippa said she didn't remember keeping them.
I, er, I think maybe they belong to a colleague of mine who was helping me with a story.
I see.
Another case for Barnabus Bull? No.
No, it's-it's-it's literally nothing, just background research.
I never even finished it.
I would very much like to read it, Mr.
Jones as a fan, as much as anything else.
Sure.
I can't seem to, erfind it.
Barnabus, you haven't seen my notes for Nine Lives Kat, have you? No, my name's Matilda, dear.
Barnabus is a fictional character.
He doesn't exist.
Ashley? Hello? Well! It's true what they say.
You can't put a good book down.
What are you doing here? I had to come for the final chapter .
.
see how it all turns out.
I didn't write this.
No, this is not a fictional construct, this is actually happening.
In your kitchen.
Exciting, isn't it? Maybe I'm not so generic after all.
Where's Ashley? He's safe.
He'll come to no harm .
.
unlike our friendly liaison officer.
She doesn't look too clever.
Oh, she was onto you, wasn't she? The shifty stepfather? So, you had to silence her.
I never touched her, and you know I didn't! Not how it looks.
Maybeshe found your wife's mobile .
.
hidden away in your bottom drawer.
You're framing me.
Yes, I am.
Or is that too cliched, Ezra? What do you want me to do next? This? Or.
.
this? You always were a lousy lay, Ezra.
Oh, come on, Mr.
Writer.
We're in your hands.
What's a better ending? What do you want? I want you to finish my story.
I want to find the boy seconds before he runs out of oxygen.
I want to expose the affair between the neighbour and the stepfather.
I want to walk out of an AA meeting and throw my police badge into the river! -Really? -And I want it I want it in paperback and hardback on the shelf! Not self-published on Amazon as a shitty Kindle exclusive.
All right.
All right, I'll do it, but then, you have to leave me and my family alone.
Deal? Deal.
Sorry, am I dead now? And am I a lesbian now? Or is that all in his head? Quiet! I am trying to think! Ohh, I've written myself into a corner.
I knew this was going to happen.
You know how some artists can't do hands? Well, I can't do endings.
Resolving everything on the final page, it's just it's just not believable! But then But then, it wouldn't be a Matilda Gordon novel if it didn't have that final twist.
What's going on? I thought I was writing an updated Frankenstein The Postmodern Prometheus, but it's all gone a bit Stephen King.
A hack horror novelist haunted by his own characters.
-I'm not a hack.
-No.
A good story's a good story.
And this isn't bad for a first draft.
Still, I think I'll have to leave you in the bottom drawer for a while, see if I can't come up with a more satisfactory denouement.
No, no, no, no, wait, wait! Wait, I can help you.
I've won a Gold Dagger.
My books are bestsellers! Well, they're not, really, though.
Are they, darling? They are a figment of my imagination.
Just like you.
Oh, God.
And I am afraid you are not quite leaping off the page.
Please don't.
Bye for now! Oh, sh # Two little ducks went swimming one day # Over the hill and far away # Mother duck said, "Quack, quack quack, quack," But only one little duck came back.
♪
Never again.
Vodka and Coco Pops? Are you serious? There's no milk.
Do you want me to eat them dry? You've only just got out of bed.
I know, I'm a walking cliche.
What can I tell you? Fetch me a spoon.
So, is this why they took you off the case? What, the drinking? Ah I can run round for round with any of those plods, and still not lose my lunch at an autopsy.
-You bounce back.
-Exactly.
Well, they do call you "Nine Lives Kat".
-Do they? -Yeah.
Short for Katrina.
Mm! Hear that, Kitney? I've got a nickname, just like you.
Kitney Spears.
Funny.
I used to have two, but David Meowie got run over.
That's good.
So, go on, then, why did they take you off the case? They're dinosaurs.
They can't stand being told the truth by a woman.
Simple as that.
My ex-husband is exactly the same.
Erm, ex-husbands.
-There's been more than one, remember? -Who's counting? You know what? I'll show them.
I will show them you do not need a cock and balls to crack a case, or stack a dishwasher in the most ergonomic way possible.
You just need .
.
a brain and a heart, and guts.
And that's what I've got.
You going to help me, or what? Of course I am .
.
Nine Lives Kat.
OK, bring me up to speed.
So, we've got five suspects who were all seen on CCTV in and around the area at the time of the abduction.
I'm still in the process of fleshing out their stories, but it seems two of them have links to the family that could throw up some interesting leads.
Let's not talk about throwing up.
Not until these Coco Pops have settled.
What about the stepfather? Surely he's our prime suspect.
I'd rather say he's "helping us with our inquiries".
Let's arrange a press conference for this afternoon.
If he breaks down in tears and says, "We just want our angel back," we know it's definitely him.
Will do.
I thought you were off the case.
There's a little boy out there tonight who's frightened.
He's trapped, he can't breathe .
.
and I'm going to find him.
I'm going to bring him out into the light and I don't care whose toes I have to tread on to do it.
When you were little and your milk teeth fell out, I used to take them from under your pillow and leave 50p.
And I'd keep them in a Tic Tac box in the bathroom cabinet.
When the job got too much for me, or your dad was being difficult .
.
I'd empty them into the palm of my hand and squeeze as hard as I could .
.
your teeth in my fist .
.
until I feltblood.
Until I felt .
.
alive.
Right, take me through it again.
11.
15am, Ashley finishes his karate lesson and is picked up from the Methodist church by his mum.
11.
30, they pull into the retail park, where Mum goes to McDonald's to buy a Happy Meal, telling Ashley to stay in the car.
Now, five minutes prior to this, we have the green Vauxhall Corsa parking up outside Hollywood Bowl driven by sunglasses man Mummy? Ohhh! God.
Trust you to be here.
Charming! Have you seen Kitney Spears? No.
She's, er, she's gone.
Ha! Dirty stop-out.
Mind you, I can talk.
So, what have you got for me? -How do you mean? -The missing boy.
Have you checked out the alibis of the five suspects? -That was a long time ago.
-What do you mean? Kat, I haven't seen you in several months.
I saw you two days ago.
What are you talking about?! Justgive me time to catch up.
-Where's it gone? -What? The entire investigation! Er, I've still got the notes.
I just didn't think it was good to put it up on the wall.
You have no right to tell me how to run this case.
No right at all! Do you hear me? I wasI was this close to making a breakthrough.
You're up.
Er, Katrina She prefers to be called Kat.
Ah.
I don't know what happened last night.
You seemed very agitated.
We'd both had a lot to drink.
But if it's any consolation, I don't think we actually Actually what? Elvis did not enter the building.
-Is this guy for real? -Sorry, you are? Er, DI Bull.
Barnabus Bull.
I'm a colleague of Katrina's.
We have a, sort of, love-hate relationship.
I'm sensing a hate phase at the moment Just shut up, Barney! I'm trying to think.
Sure, sure, although, er, strictly speaking, of course, all thinking is subconscious, because consciousness is an awareness of thoughts, not thinking itself, so you can't actually try to think.
Why don't you go and put the kettle on? I'm not sure it would fit.
No, I mean SWITCH the kettle on.
-I think we could all do with a drink.
-Oh, yeah, sure.
He's quite a character.
A bit spectrum-y, perhaps.
I'm not shagging him.
I know, I didn't say you were! It's just an interesting development, that's all.
Look, I know you think I'm taking this case too personally.
But I'm a woman.
And I empathise.
And I know how to fight, and I know how to dig my heels in.
And let me tell you size eight stilettos dig in deep.
Now, what have you done with my case notes? Erm, do you have any loose-leaf tea? I can't bear the bags.
They never steep in quite the right way.
One second.
Is that really the best we can do? Jump-scares with a cat? Whyare you always here? I don't remember giving you a key.
What happened to the missing boy - Ashley? What are you not telling me? I've tried with you, Katrina, I really, really have .
.
but I just don't think it's working.
Oh, please do not come in here! I have a system.
-I know where everything is.
-It's all right, Barnabus.
We can pick this up later.
What's he doing here? Get out of my bloody house! It's not your house, Kat.
It never was.
Come on, Katy.
Katy, there's a good girl.
Katy Purry.
A bit more contemporary.
I'd written a couple of collections of short stories, been nominated for a Gold Dagger, pretty healthy sales, when my publisher decided I ought to write a series of detective novels.
Well, I wasn't that keen, but I made a few notes, had a brainstorm, and out of nowhere, I wrote down "Nine Lives Kat".
-It's a good title.
-It is, yes.
Thank you.
So, I tinkered with the idea, er, made up some bog-standard case of a missing child just so I could interrogate the character and see if it added up to anything.
The characterbased on me? No, the character OF you.
Katrinasurname.
Never got that far.
Erm, late 40s, a couple of divorces, single mum, booze, pills, clashes with authority.
And what I realised when I read it back was .
.
it's all a bit cliched.
-I said that.
-I know.
I said that on page bloody one! I know you did and I should learn to listen to that critical voice.
But at the time, I was watching episodes of Cracker and Prime Suspect, and I thought, "I can write one of those!" So I tried, and you just turned out to be a bit Generic.
Fuck off, Rain Man.
It's all right, Katy! It's all right.
Anyway, I popped you down here in the bottom drawer for a while, and every now and again, I dig you out, see if there's anything I could work with.
I do a lot of screenwriting now, and the streaming platforms are always dying for female-led content.
That and dystopian fucking fantasy worlds, anyway.
You think you're some patriarchal creator? God of your own little universe? Well, sorry.
I'm real.
My life is real.
No, it isn't.
It isn't.
You're a fictional construct.
I mean, look around you.
Would a real person live like this? You know, one spoon, one bowl, one box of cereal? You're justa sketch, Kat, a first-thought idea.
-No, no.
-The boss, the ex-husbands, What are they? -They're just ciphers.
-No, I-I-I have a daughter.
And what's her name? You don't know, do you? Sh! Her name is You don't know, cos I never bothered to give her one.
She was just an afterthought, tacked on to try and make you more interesting.
No! No, no No! No! I've wrestled with this idea for some time, getting writer's block.
It was quite difficult, so I tried pairing you with another character to see if that would freshen things up a bit.
DI Barnabus Bull.
I just love that name.
It's so satisfying to say.
"Barnabus Bull.
" My publisher likes it, too.
I found out today.
Three-book deal.
Yes! Red Rag To A Bull, The Bull's-Eye, Bull Shit.
.
.
In A China Shop.
There's a long way to go yet before we have to worry about titles.
Sohe gets to have a life, and I go back in the bottom drawer just because he's got a .
.
unspecified mental illness? Stop shouting.
Stop shouting! Stop shouting! Stop shouting! There might be a victim's mother or a jealous mistress I can use you for, but in terms of this, Nine Lives Kat, flawed detective with inner demons .
.
we've seen it all before.
And whose fault is that? Yes, you're right.
It's not you, it's me.
Sothe missing boy, he's your son, isn't he? Ashley? Yeah, just a placeholder.
Something to visualise.
You know, people think that writing's all in the head, but sometimes you have to make it real for yourself.
Are those my notes? I've got to let you go.
Please don't.
You've run out of lives, Kat.
Oh, hi, Georgie.
I was just about to call you, actually.
Yeah, I'm just, er, finishing the synopsis for the new Bull.
It's a sort of locked-room mystery.
Quite pleased with it, actually.
Yeah, I will do.
Erm, now, listen, I was just wondering where we are with the TV rights.
Are they still with whatshisname at ITV? OK, cos I was watching Jude Law in The Talented Mr.
Ripley last night, and I was thinking he could be really good.
Or Matt Damon.
Yeah.
Yeah, he, erhe'd get the intensity, and, er, he was great in that Sky thing a couple of years ago.
Matt Damon! They're not going to get Matt Damon, all right? He's American! No, sorry, sorry, I was just talking to Philippa, Erm, OK, well, listen, I'll send it to you, and, er, you can let me know what you think.
Thanks, Georgie.
Bye for now.
Will you stop interfering in my private phone calls, please? -I'm only saying what you're thinking.
-Well, it's irritating.
You just concentrate on how Bull knew about the false floor in the basement.
Carpet tiles.
-What? -Carpet tiles.
Should've been black square to the left, like a chessboard.
When we got there, it was cream square to the left ergo someone must've taken them up and re-laid them.
Yes, like a chessboard.
So, if we make Colin gay and Alan a sir or something, we can say the Queen was taken by the knight! Brilliant! Hi! Hi.
Did you get everything? Yes.
It was busy, though.
Do you know how to do find my phone? What? I can't find it.
I think I had it in the car park when I arrived.
Someone must've had it out of my pocket.
Well, if you will go to Asda and not Waitrose Where were you when you sent me that text? -Which text? -About picking Ash up from swimming.
You were picking Ash up from swimming.
No, you texted me to say not to.
-No, I didn't.
-Yes, you did.
Look! That's not my text! Where is he? Ashley? Ashley?! He's not here.
I just told you.
-Why didn't you pick him up?! -Cos you said you were going to! What if someone took your wife's phone to send the text? What the fuck are you talking about? The fuck are YOU talking about? Where is he? Ezra! Where's my son?! Any news? Not yet.
Where is he, Ez? I can't bear it.
Sh.
He's going to be all right.
OK? He's going to be all right, I promise.
Oh, hello.
I thought I heard another voice.
I made some tea.
Thanks.
I'm Matilda Gordon.
Your wife's probably told you.
-I'm family liaison.
-She did, yes.
I'm a big fan.
Oh, thank you.
I'd love a selfie at at some point.
Erm, not now.
No.
No.
I was just asking your wife if you could think of anyone who might have a grudge against you.
Anyone you might have upset or offended? No.
No, I don't think so.
Nobody you based one of your characters on in your stories? I'm a writer.
I invent characters.
Of course.
And your sonsorry, stepson .
.
has he had any fallings-out or arguments recently? No, we've been through this already.
He was always well liked.
"Was"?! Is.
Sorry, Phil, I've just woken up.
I'm sorry.
It's the shock.
The body shuts down.
I went through your medicine cabinet .
.
to see if you were on any medication, and I found this hidden at the back.
They're teeth.
Children's teeth.
Are they Ashley's? Philippa said she didn't remember keeping them.
I, er, I think maybe they belong to a colleague of mine who was helping me with a story.
I see.
Another case for Barnabus Bull? No.
No, it's-it's-it's literally nothing, just background research.
I never even finished it.
I would very much like to read it, Mr.
Jones as a fan, as much as anything else.
Sure.
I can't seem to, erfind it.
Barnabus, you haven't seen my notes for Nine Lives Kat, have you? No, my name's Matilda, dear.
Barnabus is a fictional character.
He doesn't exist.
Ashley? Hello? Well! It's true what they say.
You can't put a good book down.
What are you doing here? I had to come for the final chapter .
.
see how it all turns out.
I didn't write this.
No, this is not a fictional construct, this is actually happening.
In your kitchen.
Exciting, isn't it? Maybe I'm not so generic after all.
Where's Ashley? He's safe.
He'll come to no harm .
.
unlike our friendly liaison officer.
She doesn't look too clever.
Oh, she was onto you, wasn't she? The shifty stepfather? So, you had to silence her.
I never touched her, and you know I didn't! Not how it looks.
Maybeshe found your wife's mobile .
.
hidden away in your bottom drawer.
You're framing me.
Yes, I am.
Or is that too cliched, Ezra? What do you want me to do next? This? Or.
.
this? You always were a lousy lay, Ezra.
Oh, come on, Mr.
Writer.
We're in your hands.
What's a better ending? What do you want? I want you to finish my story.
I want to find the boy seconds before he runs out of oxygen.
I want to expose the affair between the neighbour and the stepfather.
I want to walk out of an AA meeting and throw my police badge into the river! -Really? -And I want it I want it in paperback and hardback on the shelf! Not self-published on Amazon as a shitty Kindle exclusive.
All right.
All right, I'll do it, but then, you have to leave me and my family alone.
Deal? Deal.
Sorry, am I dead now? And am I a lesbian now? Or is that all in his head? Quiet! I am trying to think! Ohh, I've written myself into a corner.
I knew this was going to happen.
You know how some artists can't do hands? Well, I can't do endings.
Resolving everything on the final page, it's just it's just not believable! But then But then, it wouldn't be a Matilda Gordon novel if it didn't have that final twist.
What's going on? I thought I was writing an updated Frankenstein The Postmodern Prometheus, but it's all gone a bit Stephen King.
A hack horror novelist haunted by his own characters.
-I'm not a hack.
-No.
A good story's a good story.
And this isn't bad for a first draft.
Still, I think I'll have to leave you in the bottom drawer for a while, see if I can't come up with a more satisfactory denouement.
No, no, no, no, wait, wait! Wait, I can help you.
I've won a Gold Dagger.
My books are bestsellers! Well, they're not, really, though.
Are they, darling? They are a figment of my imagination.
Just like you.
Oh, God.
And I am afraid you are not quite leaping off the page.
Please don't.
Bye for now! Oh, sh # Two little ducks went swimming one day # Over the hill and far away # Mother duck said, "Quack, quack quack, quack," But only one little duck came back.
♪