That's no ordinary look. That's the kind of a look a man gives when he's afraid somebody might be watching him.
It's opening night of the last depressing week of L. B. Jefferies in a cast.
I'm going to make this a week you'll never forget.
Let's start from the beginning again, Jeff. Tell me everything you saw...and what...you think it means.
The New York State sentence for a Peeping Tom is six months in the work house...They got no windows in the work house. You know, in the old days, they used to put your eyes out with a red-hot poker. Any of those bikini bombshells you're always watchin' worth a red-hot poker? Oh dear, we've become a race of Peeping Toms. What people ought to do is get outside their own house and look in for a change. Yes, sir. How's that for a bit of home-spun philosophy?
The insurance company would be much happier if you'd sleep in bed at night instead of in that wheelchair...Your eyes are all bloodshot. You must have been watching out that window for hours.
Just where do you suppose he cut her up? 'Course, the bathtub! That's the only place where he could have washed away the blood. He better get that trunk out of there before it starts to leak.
Which one of you did it? Which one of you killed my dog? You don't know the meaning of the word 'neighbor.' Neighbors like each other, speak to each other, care if anybody lives or dies, but none of you do. But I couldn't imagine any of you bein' so low that you'd kill a little helpless, friendly dog - the only thing in this whole neighborhood who liked anybody. Did ya kill him because he liked ya? Just because he liked ya?