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: Sorry to call you out so late tonight. Dr. Bill Harford
: That's OK, I was out anyway. Victor Ziegler
: How about a drink? Dr. Bill Harford
: Are you having one? Victor Ziegler
: Sure! What would you like? Dr. Bill Harford
: Uh, I'll have a little scotch. Victor Ziegler
: Good. How do you take it, neat?
Dr. Bill Harford
: The woman lying dead in the morgue was the woman at the party. Well, Victor, maybe I'm missing something here. You call it fake, a charade... Do you mind telling me what kind of fuckin' charade ends up with somebody turning up dead? Victor Ziegler
: Okay Bill, let's cut the bullshit, alright? You've been way out of your depth for the last 24 hours! You want to know what kind of charade? I'll tell you exactly what kind. That whole play-acted, "take me" sacrifice that you've been jerking off with had nothing to do with her real death. The truth is, nothing happened to her after you left that hadn't happened to her before. She got her brains fucked out. Period!
: Bill, I... I know what happened to you last night. And I know what's been going on since. And I think you just might have got the wrong idea about one or two things. Dr. Bill Harford
: [feigning ignorance
] I'm sorry Victor, but... what the hell are you talking about? Victor Ziegler
: Please, Bill... no games. I was there. At the house. "The house". I saw you, Bill. I saw everything.
: Bill, do you have any idea how much trouble you got yourself into last night just by going over there? Who do you think those people were? Those were not just some ordinary people. If I told you their names... no, I'm not going to tell you their names... but if I did, I don't think you'd sleep so well at night.
: Bill... What the hell did you think you were doing there? I couldn't... I couldn't even begin to imagine how you'd even heard about it, let alone got yourself through the front door. And then I remembered seeing you talking with that prick piano player, Nick... or whatever the fuck his name was, at my party the other night. And it didn't take much to figure out the rest. Dr. Bill Harford
: It wasn't Nick's fault. It was mine. Victor Ziegler
: Of course it was Nick's fault! If he hadn't mentioned this to you in the first place, none of this would have happened. I recommended that little cocksucker to those people, and now he's made me look like a complete asshole by telling you about it! Dr. Bill Harford
] Victor... what can I say? I had absolutely no idea you were involved. Victor Ziegler
: I know you didn't, Bill. But I also know that you went to Nick's hotel this morning and spoke with the desk clerk. Dr. Bill Harford
: How did you know that? Victor Ziegler
: Because I had you followed. Dr. Bill Harford
: You... you had me followed? Victor Ziegler
: Now Bill, I don't want you to get the wrong idea. I had you followed. I apologize for that. But it was for your own good. I know you went to Nick's hotel looking for him and I know what the desk clerk told you. But what the desk clerk didn't tell you was that all they did was drive Nick to the airport and put him on a plane back to Seattle. I assure you that Nick is safely back home and he's probally banging Mrs. Nick as we speak. Dr. Bill Harford
: The desk clerk said that Nick has a bruse on his face. That he looked frightened as if he was beaten up. Victor Ziegler
: Yeah? Okay, so Nick had a bruse. But that is probally the least he deserved for telling you about the gathering last night.
Dr. Bill Harford
: Was it the second password? Is that what gave me away? Victor Ziegler
: Yes, finally. But not because you didn't know it. It was because there was no second password. Of course it didn't help you too much that those people arrived there in limos... and you showed up in a taxi. Or that when they took your coat, they found the receipt to the costume from the rental house in your pocket made out to you-know-who.
: Life goes on. It always does, until it doesn't.