Tip:
Highlight text to annotate it
X
I had army guys just like this as a kid. I would sit on my roof with every intention
of sending them off down below, to engage in glorious battle in the bushes. But I hardly
ever did, because I'd never seem them again. They'd get lost. Or the cat would get them.
Henry, I would appreciate if we could stick to the topic at hand. But I get the feeling
you're not being completely honest with me about what happened that night.
How's that?
For one thing, I don't believe Ed Harris came into the diner.
Well, to each his own.
That doesn't make sense. You agreed to talk to me. You don't want to get paid?
I think you're confusing our motives. I mean, how much does a true-crime thriller fetch
these days?
And what is your motive exactly?
I have an obligation to the truth.
Your truth is a lie.
Maybe. It's a shame you came all the way here to be lied to. Maybe you should talk to someone
else.
I'm talking to everyone, Henry. You know that.
I wouldn't be wasting my time like that. But to each his own.
Alright. Two years ago. It's one AM and you're in the diner with Tony and then what?
Ed Harris leaves.
Can you believe it? Ed Harris. Wow.
Henry.
...What's that voice you're doing?
What voice?
That woman's voice.
That's a young man's voice.
I interviewed Tony, he didn't sound like that. But please. Continue.
Like I was saying.
Can you believe it? Ed Harris. Wow.
That's when the moth came in.
The moth?
The customers that come in late at night just to sit there. Like they're attracted to the
light. I call them moths.
And this moth was seventeen-year-old Louise Kessler? The victim?
Henry?
Hmm?
Did you talk to her?
Yeah.
You okay?
Are you lying to me again?
Why?
In my interview with Tony, he claimed that neither of you spoke to the victim at all.
Your story, with its celebrity cameos and effeminate coworkers, makes for an interesting
addition to my book, but the truth is more valuable to me. Tony said no one had gone
in or out for hours. The girl came in, you hardly seemed to notice. After a few minutes,
she left. The next morning, her body washed up and was found by two longshoremen just
a stone's throw from here. End of story.
Well, if that's how he tells it... I like my version better.
Fine. Assuming you did ask the victim if she was okay. Then what?
Why? If you trust Tony, what makes you want to speak to me so badly?
Because I don't believe this girl came into the diner, sat down, said nothing, ordered
nothing, and left five minutes later. Every character has a motivation. I'm looking for
hers.
And if your story is that you asked her if she was okay, then what?
I didn't ask. She left. That's it. Okay? There's no story.
All of a sudden? You were quite a storyteller up until now. Surely she said something to
you.
Why did you bring me here?
Henry, you are one of the last two people to see her alive. If she said something to
you, it could have been the last thing she ever said. Isn't that important?
It wasn't something she said, it was something... I did.
What do you mean?
Shoo moth.
Henry?
It was late. I didn't care. But Tony said...
If you tell the girl to go, we can close up early.
You want to stay here all night with her?
I don't mind.
Some of us have *** to do, man.
Maybe someone should ask her if she's alright.
My paper's due at noon...
Hey girl, you gotta go. I'm sorry, we're closing.
What then?
I guess... the cat got her.
Thank you, Henry.
I've got a shift to catch. Later, Walter.
Henry.
...Your check will be in the mail.
Thank you for agreeing to talk to me, Henry.
I don't know what to say. I saw her. But there wasn't anything spectacular about it. I didn't
see whoever killed her.
But you did see her.
Yeah. But I didn't do anything. 1