harry zimm. you look like a wet kiss.
well, aren't you gonna offer me whatever it is you taste like?
what a spectacular view.
i miss murray, harry.
what he was, was a hack, couldn't get a job writing for anybody but you. i'm being honest. he was a lousy writer, but he was a good husband. i just didn't know it until too late.
i hate being alone. the house is so quiet. so lonely. it needs . . . a man's touch.
you seem to feel fine about it.
murray's dead.
no. but now that you mention it, i did talk to a handsome executive at paramount the other day . . . who just happened to get his hands on the script.
he said if martin's interested, i could get a half a million for it easy. but don't worry, harry, i'm still giving you until friday.
harry. if you want me to go, just say the word.
hi, karen. it's doris. listen, doll, you might wanna come by cedars tonight and visit harry. he's in the emergency room . . .
i stopped by his office to see if he wanted to take me to le dome for dinner when i saw harry and this other man lying on the floor.
goodnight, todd. night, louis.
he can't talk. he's full of demerol.
according to todd -- sergeant randall -- a man named ronnie came by harry's office to collect on a debt. he got rough and harry shot him.