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Eddie, the Chauffeur
: Doors closing by themselves. People talkin' to nuthin' and gettin' answers. I'm going back. Clara Topper
: Back where? Eddie, the Chauffeur
: To Mr. Benny. Ain't nuthin' like this ever happened there.
: Trying to make these policemen understand something is harder than doing it yourself.
: Where's your husband? Clara Topper
: In the icebox. Sgt. Roberts
: Has he got the body with him? Clara Topper
: Certainly. Under his overcoat.
: Why, you're all wet. Is it raining out? Oh, but you haven't been out. Can't be raining in. Well, if it has, it's all cleared up.
: Good morning, Clara. Mrs. Topper
: Good morning, dear. You're late. Cosmo Topper
: Oh... better late than never. Only 44 seconds, anyhow.
: Wilkins, after all these years, are you trying to be funny?
: Clara, we used to play together once, and we could again. We could drive up to Lake Placid, just you and I. Stop at a roadhouse, dinner, and dance. Mrs. Topper
: Drive in that? You're asking me to drive in a car that looks like a painted Jezebel. And drive it to a roadhouse? Why, it'd be like going to the opera in my night gown!