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Scripts: Psycho (revised draft, 01/Dec/1959) - part 3

 EXT. HIGHWAY 99 - LONG SHOT

 Mary's car dashing along.

                                          DISSOLVE TO:

 MARY IN NEW CAR

 Mary looks weary, tired with strain and with hard driving. 
 Her eyes are heavy with worry and deep thought.

 OUT THE WINDSHIELD

 We can see that it is much later in the day, almost dusk.

 MARY IN NEW CAR

 We HEAR the sound of an agitated BUZZ of an intercom system, 
 a sound emanating from Mary's imagination.

 After the second BUZZ, we HEAR the voice of Caroline.

                         CAROLINE'S VOICE
         Yes, Mr. Lowery.

                         LOWERY'S VOICE
                 (a worried tone)
         Caroline...? Mary still isn't in?

                         CAROLINE'S VOICE
         No, Mr. Lowery... but then she's 
         always a bit late on Monday mornings.

                         LOWERY'S VOICE
         Buzz me the minute she comes in.

 Again Mary shakes her head, forces herself to stop hearing 
 these "invented" scenes of her imagination.

 EXT. HIGHWAY

 Now we cut to the view of the road, from Mary's viewpoint. 
 Darkness of evening is coming. In the dim twilight we see 
 the neon sign of roadside restaurants and gas stations 
 beginning to blaze on.

 INT. MARY'S NEW CAR

 Back on Mary's face, and after a moment, the imagined voices 
 again:

                         LOWERY'S VOICE
         Call her sister! If no one's answering 
         at the house....

                         CAROLINE'S VOICE
         I called her sister, Mr. Lowery, 
         where she works, the Music Makers 
         Music Store, you know? And she doesn't 
         know where Mary is any more than we 
         do.

                         LOWERY'S VOICE
         You better run out to the house.  
         She may be... unable to answer the 
         phone...

                         CAROLINE'S VOICE
         Her sister's going to do that.  She's 
         as worried as we are.

 A flush of painful guilt and regret rises up in Mary's face. 
 She closes her eyes for one tight swift moment.

 EXT. HIGHWAY

 We cut again to the highway. The first oncoming headlights 
 slash at the windshield.

 INT. MARY'S NEW CAR

 Cutting back to Mary, we can sense by the tense muscles of 
 her face that she is driving faster. The oncoming headlights 
 blurt at her.

 Suddenly we HEAR Lowery's voice, loud now and frightened, as 
 if the anxiety in the man's voice was strong enough to break 
 through Mary's effort to keep her mind silent and her 
 imagination blank.

                         LOWERY'S VOICE
         No! I haven't the faintest idea.  As 
         I said, I last saw your sister when 
         she left this office on Friday... 
         she said she didn't feel well and 
         wanted to leave early and I said she 
         could. And that was the last I saw...
                 (a pause, a thought)
         ...wait a minute, I did see her, an 
         hour or so later, driving...
                 (a pause, then with 
                 solemn fear)
         Ah, I think you'd better come over 
         here to my office. Quick.
                 (a pause, a click)
         Caroline, get Mr. Cassidy for me.

 EXT. HIGHWAY

 It is completely dark now, night.

 INT. MARY'S NEW CAR

 We cut back to her face.

                         LOWERY'S VOICE
         After all, Cassidy, I told you...  
         all that cash... I'm not taking the 
         responsibility... Oh, for heaven's 
         sake, a girl works for you for ten 
         years, you trust her! All right, 
         yes, you better come over.

 FROM MARY'S VIEWPOINT

 EXT. THE ROAD AHEAD INT. MARY'S NEW CAR

 Fast cut back to Mary's face. Oncoming headlights throw a 
 blinding light across her features.

                         CASSIDY'S VOICE
                 (undrunk, sharp with 
                 rage)
         Well I ain't about to kiss off forty 
         thousand dollars! I'll get it back 
         and if any of it's missin' I'll 
         replace it with her fine soft flesh! 
         I'll track her, never you doubt it!

                         LOWERY'S VOICE
         Hold on, Cassidy... I still can't 
         believe... it must be some kind of a 
         mystery... I can't...

                         CASSIDY'S VOICE
         You checked with the bank, no?  They 
         never laid eyes on her, no?  You 
         still trustin'? Hot creepers, she 
         sat there while I dumped it out... 
         hardly even looked at it, plannin' 
         and... and even flirtin' with me...!

 A look of revulsion makes Mary close her eyes.

 THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD AGAIN

 Big drops of rain begin to appear.

 CLOSEUP - MARY

 She is becoming aware of the rain starting.

 THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD

 The rain increasing and backlit by the oncoming headlights.

 CLOSEUP - MARY

 Mary starts the windshield wipers.

 THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD

 The wipers are having a battle with the now torrential rain.

 CLOSEUP - MARY

 Peering through the blurred windshield.

 CLOSEUP - THE CAR WHEELS

 slowing down in the flooding highway.

 CLOSEUP - MARY

 peering through the windshield. The oncoming lights are fewer.

 CLOSEUP - THE CAR WHEELS

 almost coming to a slow turn.

 THROUGH THE WINDSHIELD

 just blackness and rain.

 CLOSEUP - MARY

 peering.

 MARY'S VIEWPOINT

 An almost undiscernible light in the far distance, a neon 
 sign blurred by the rain-sheeted windshield.

 MARY'S CAR

 She presses down, forces the car to move on through the 
 flooded road.

 EXT. THE ROAD

 As we move closer, we see the neon sign more clearly and can 
 faintly make out the large letters which read "Motel."  Mary 
 stops the car, lowers the window slightly, looks out. We see 
 the sign clearly now: "BATES MOTEL." Mary opens the car door 
 and dashes out into the rain and up onto the porch of the 
 motel office.

 EXT. BATES' MOTEL - (NIGHT)

 Mary pauses on the porch. The lights are on within the office. 
 She tries door, finds it open, goes into office. CAMERA 
 FOLLOWS her into office. There is no one present. Mary goes 
 to the desk, rings a small pushbell. There is no response. 
 Mary rubs her forehead in weariness and frustration, goes 
 back out onto the porch. She looks off in another direction, 
 slightly behind the office, and sees...

 MARY'S VIEWPOINT - A LARGE OLD HOUSE - (NIGHT)

 A path from the motel office leads directly up to this house. 
 There is a light on in one of the upstairs rooms. A WOMAN 
 passes the window, pauses, peers out.

 We see her in clear silhouette. She quickly goes away from 
 the window.

 EXT. PORCH OF BATES' MOTEL - (NIGHT)

 Mary, having seen the woman, expects now that she will get 
 some attention. She stands a few moments, waiting.

 No one comes. Impatience and anger rise in Mary. She dashes 
 out into the rain, to her car, gets in, opens the side window, 
 begins to honk the horn. After a moment, a YOUNG MAN open 
 the front door of the house, pauses, starts down the path. 
 After a few steps, he turns and runs back into the house. 
 Mary leaves her car, starts a dash for the shelter of the 
 porch. As she runs, we see that the Young Man has gone back 
 only to get an umbrella. Seeing that Mary is on her way to 
 the porch, he runs quickly, the umbrella unopened in his 
 hand. He gets to the porch a moment after Mary has reached 
 it.

 He stops short, looks at her, then at the umbrella hanging 
 useless in his hand, then back to her.

 There is something sadly touching in his manner, in his look. 
 Mary's impatience goes and she smiles and this makes him 
 almost smile. He gestures her into the office, standing back 
 to indicate that he will go after her. She goes into the 
 office.

 INT. OFFICE OF BATES' MOTEL - (NIGHT)

 The Young Man follows Mary in, closes the door. He is NORMAN 
 BATES, somewhere in his late twenties, thin and tall, soft-
 spoken and hesitant.

                         NORMAN
         Dirty night.

                         MARY
                 (not really a question)
         You have a vacancy?

                         NORMAN
                 (simply, almost 
                 cheerfully)
         We have twelve vacancies. Twelve 
         cabins, twelve vacancies.
                 (a pause)
         They moved away the highway.

                         MARY
         I thought I'd gotten off the main...

                         NORMAN
         I knew you must have. No one stops 
         here anymore unless they do.

 He is behind the counter now, pushing forward the registration 
 book.

                         NORMAN
         But it's no good dwelling on our 
         losses, is it.  We go right ahead 
         lighting signs and following the 
         formalities...  Would you sign, 
         please.

 Mary has placed her handbag on the counter. She takes the 
 registration book, picks up the pen, is suddenly struck with 
 the realization that she'd better use an alias. She writes 
 the name Marie Samuels.

                         NORMAN
         Your home address. Oh, just the town 
         will do.

                         MARY
                 (glancing at newspaper 
                 sticking out of her 
                 handbag)
         Los Angeles.

 She realizes he didn't ask her to tell him, merely to write 
 it down. She smiles, writes Los Angeles beside the false 
 name. Norman smiles, stops smiling out of embarrassment.

                         NORMAN
         Cabin One. It's closer in case you 
         want anything... right next to the 
         office.

 CLOSEUP - NORMAN

 He removes a key for Cabin One. We see that there is a 
 remaining key on the board.

 TWO SHOT - MARY AND NORMAN

                         MARY
         I want sleep more than anything.  
         Except maybe, food.

                         NORMAN
         There's a big diner about ten miles 
         on up... just outside Fairvale.

                         MARY
         Am I that close to Fairvale?

                         NORMAN
         Fifteen miles. I'll get your bags.

 He goes to door, opens it. The rain has slowed down 
 considerably. He smiles at this fact, as if to communicate 
 some pleasure he finds in it. Mary follows him to the door, 
 goes out on the porch, waits and watches as Norman runs to 
 her car, gets in, drives it to the parking space in front of 
 Cabin One. Mary walks along the porch, waits before the door 
 of Cabin One.

 Norman gets out of car, with suitcase, runs to the door, 
 opens it, pushes the door open, puts his hand in and switches 
 on a light. Mary goes into the cabin. Norman follows her.

 INT. CABIN ONE - (NIGHT)

 Norman places suitcase on bed, goes to the window, opens it.

                         NORMAN
         Stuffy in here.
                 (turns to her)
         Well... the mattress is soft and 
         there're hangers in the closet and... 
         stationary with "Bates' Motel" printed 
         on it in case you want to make your 
         friends back home envious... and... 
         the... over there....
                 (he points to the 
                 bathroom, fairly 
                 blushes)

                         MARY
         The bathroom.

                         NORMAN
                 (quickly, starting to 
                 leave)
         I'll be in the office if you want 
         anything... just tap on the wall.

                         MARY
         Thank you, Mr. Bates.

                         NORMAN
         Norman Bates.

 He pauses at the door, gazes at her. She smiles.

                         NORMAN
         You have something most girls never 
         have.

                         MARY
         I have?

                         NORMAN
         There's no name for it... But it's 
         something that, that puts a person 
         at ease.

                         MARY
         Thank you. Again.

                         NORMAN
                 (not really a question)
         You're not going to go out again and 
         drive up to that diner, are you?

                         MARY
         No.

                         NORMAN
         Then will you do me a favor?
                 (without waiting for 
                 her response)
         Will you have supper here?  I was 
         just about to, myself... nothing 
         more than some sandwiches and a lot 
         of milk, but I'd like it if you'd 
         come up to the house and... I don't 
         set a fancy table but... the kitchen's 
         awful homey.

                         MARY
         I'd like to.

                         NORMAN
         All right, you get your dresses 
         hanging out and... change those wet 
         shoes, and I'll come for you soon as 
         it's ready...
                 (starts out)
         ...with my trusty umbrella.
                 (he laughs a small 
                 laugh, runs off)

 Mary closes the door, goes to suitcase, opens it, starts to 
 take out a dress. Her handbag is next to the suitcase. She 
 glances down into it, pauses, drops the dress, reaches into 
 the handbag, takes out the money-filled envelope, stares at 
 it, almost with regret, filled contemplates hiding it, decides 
 to, starts looking for a reasonable hiding place. She looks 
 about, at the closet, the drawers etc., realizes all such 
 places are obvious. Catching sight of the newspaper in her 
 bag, she hits on a solution. She opens the newspaper, places 
 the envelope within it, lock-folds the paper again and then 
 places it on the bedside table as if it were there for later 
 reading. She considers this for a moment, accepts it, goes 
 to her suitcase to start unpacking.

 Suddenly the quiet is shattered by the shrill, ugly sound of 
 a woman's voice, raised in anger.

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
         No! I tell you no!

 Mary walks slowly to the window, realizing that the terrible 
 voice is coming from the house behind the cabins. CAMERA 
 FOLLOWS her to window and once there we see the light is 
 still on in the upstairs bedroom and the voice is coming 
 from that room. The rain has stopped and the moon is out.

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
         I won't have you bringing strange 
         young girls in for supper...
                 (an ugly, sneering 
                 note creeps into the 
                 voice)
         ...by candlelight, I suppose, in the 
         cheap erotic fashion of young men 
         with cheap, erotic minds!

                         NORMAN'S VOICE
         Mother, please...

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
         And then what? After supper, music? 
         Whispers?

                         NORMAN'S VOICE
         Mother, she's just a stranger...  
         hungry, and the weather's bad...

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
                 (mimicking cruelly)
         Mother, she's just a stranger!
                 (hard, cruel again)
         As if men don't desire strangers, as 
         if... oh, I refuse to speak of 
         disgusting things because they disgust 
         me! You understand, Boy?

                         WOMAN'S VOICE
                 (pause)
         Go on, go tell her she'll not be 
         appeasing her ugly appetite with my 
         food... or my son! Or do I have to 
         tell her, cause you don't have the 
         guts? Huh, boy? You have the guts, 
         boy?

                         NORMAN'S VOICE
                 (blurted cut fury and 
                 shame)
         Shut up! Shut up!

 There is the SOUND of a door closing in that room up there. 
 Mary has stood by the window, listening with mounting distress 
 and concern and sympathy. She turns her face away now, gazes 
 sadly at the little empty room.

 In a moment there is the SOUND of the house's front door 
 slamming shut. Mary turns, looks out the window.

 FROM MARY'S VIEWPOINT - (NIGHT)

 We see Norman coming down the path, carrying a napkin-covered 
 tray.

 INT. CABIN ONE - (NIGHT)

 Mary looks at him for a moment, then turns quickly, goes to 
 the door, opens it and goes out onto the porch.

 EXT. THE MOTEL PORCH - (NIGHT)

 Mary pauses outside the door, is about to start forward when 
 Norman comes round the building and walks along the porch, 
 past the office, stopping only when he is close to her. He 
 stares with painful embarrassment at the knowing look in her 
 eye.

                         MARY
         I've caused you some trouble.

                         NORMAN
         Mother...
                 (a hollow little laugh, 
                 an attempt at sardonic 
                 humor)
         ...what is the phrase... "she isn't 
         herself today"... I think that's it.

                         MARY
                 (looking at the tray)
         You shouldn't have bothered. I really 
         don't have that much of an appetite.

 Norman flinches, realizing she has heard his mother's 
 reference to Mary's appetite.

                         NORMAN
         I'm sorry. I wish... people could 
         apologize for other people.

                         MARY
         Don't worry about it.
                 (a warm smile)
         But as long as you've made us supper, 
         we may as well eat it. Huh?

 She begins to back into her room. Norman starts to follow, 
 hesitates as he sees the total picture of an attractive young 
 woman and a motel room. Bringing down the tray of food, in 
 defiance of his mother's orders, is about the limit of his 
 defiance for one day. He cannot go into Mary's room.

                         NORMAN
         It might be nicer... warmer in the 
         office.

 Without waiting for approval or disapproval, he turns, hurries 
 to the office. Mary looks after him, her face showing amused 
 sympathy, then follows.

 INT. THE MOTEL OFFICE - (NIGHT)

 Norman looks about, tray in hand, sees there is no reasonable 
 place to spread out a supper. He turns, sees Mary standing 
 in the doorway.

                         NORMAN
         Eating in an office...
                 (a rueful smile)
         ...to officious, even for me. I have 
         the parlor behind this... if you'd 
         like.

 Mary nods. Norman walks on, behind the counter and into the 
 darkened parlor. Mary follows.

 INT. NORMAN'S PARLOR -(NIGHT)

 In the darkened room, lit only by the light from the office 
 spilling in, we see Norman placing the tray on a table. Mary 
 comes to the doorway, pauses. Norman straightens up, goes to 
 lamp, turns on the light.

 Mary is startled by the room. Even in the dimness of one 
 lamp, the strange, extraordinary nature of the room rushes 
 up at one. It is a room of birds. Stuffed birds, all over 
 the room, on every available surface, one even clinging to 
 the old fashioned fringed shade of the lamp. The birds are 
 of many varieties, beautiful, grand, horrible, preying. Mary 
 stares in awe and a certain fascinated horror.

 CLOSE UP - THE VARIOUS BIRDS TWO SHOT - MARY AND NORMAN

                         NORMAN
         Please sit down. On the sofa.

 As Norman goes about spreading out the bread and ham and 
 pouring the milk, we follow Mary across the room. She studies 
 the birds as she walks, briefly examines a bookcase stacked 
 with books on the subject of "Taxidermy."

 CLOSE UP - THE BOOKS ON TAXIDERMY MED. CLOSE SHOT - MARY

 She notices, too, the paintings on the wall; nudes, primarily, 
 and many with a vaguely religious overtone.

 Finally Mary reaches the sofa, sits down, looks at the spread.

                         MARY
         You're very... kind.

                         NORMAN
         It's all for you. I'm not hungry.  
         Please go ahead.

 Mary begins to eat, her attitude a bit tense. She takes up a 
 small slice of ham, bites off a tiny bite, nibbles at it in 
 the manner of one disturbed and preoccupied.

 Norman gazes at her, at the tiny bite she has taken, smiles 
 and then laughs.

                         NORMAN
         You eat like a bird.

                         MARY
         You'd know, of course.

                         NORMAN
         Not really. I hear that expression, 
         that one eats "like a bird," is really 
         a falsie, I mean a falsity, because 
         birds eat a tremendous lot.
                 (A pause, then 
                 explaining)
         Oh, I don't know anything about birds. 
         My hobby is stuffing things... 
         taxidermy. And I guess I'd just rather 
         stuff birds because...  well, I hate 
         the look of beasts when they're 
         stuffed, foxes and chimps and all... 
         some people even stuff dogs and 
         cats... but I can't... I think only 
         birds look well stuffed because 
         they're rather...  passive, to begin 
         with... most of them...

 He trails off, his exuberance failing in the rushing return 
 of his natural hesitancy and discomfort. Mary looks at him, 
 with some compression, smiles.

                         MARY
         It's a strange hobby. Curious, I 
         mean.

                         NORMAN
         Uncommon, too.

                         MARY
         I imagine so.

                         NORMAN
         It's not as expensive as you'd think. 
         Cheap, really. Needles, thread, 
         sawdust .. the chemicals are all 
         that cost anything.
                 (He goes quiet, looks 
                 disturbed)

                         MARY
         A man should have a hobby.

                         NORMAN
         It's more than a hobby... sometimes... 
         a hobby is supposed to pass the time, 
         not fill it.

                         MARY
                 (after a pause, softly)
         Is your time so empty?

                         NORMAN
         Oh, no!
                 (forcing brightness 
                 again)
         I run the office, tend the cabins 
         and grounds, do little chores for 
         mother... the ones she allows I might 
         be capable of doing.

                         MARY
         You go out... with friends?

                         NORMAN
         Friends? Who needs friends.
                 (Laughs, then with 
                 gallows humor)
         A boy's best friend is his mother.
                 (Stops laughing)
         You've never had an empty moment in 
         your whole life. Have you?

                         MARY
         Only my share.

                         NORMAN
         Where are you going? I don't mean to 
         pry...

                         MARY
                 (A wistful smile)
         I'm looking for a private island.

                         NORMAN
         What are you running away from?

                         MARY
                 (Alert)
         Why do you ask that?

                         NORMAN
         No. People never run away from 
         anything.
                 (A pause)
         The rain didn't last very long.
                 (Turning suddenly)
         You know what I think? I think we're 
         all in our private traps, clamped in 
         them, and none of us can ever climb 
         out. We scratch and claw... but only 
         at the air, only at each other, and 
         for all of it, we never budge an 
         inch.

                         MARY
         Sometimes we deliberately step into 
         those traps.

                         NORMAN
         I was born in mine. I don't mind it 
         anymore.

                         MARY
         You should... mind it.

                         NORMAN
         Oh I do... but I say I don't.
                 (Laughs boyishly)

                         MARY
                 (Staring at him, 
                 shaking her head 
                 softly.)
         If anyone ever spoke to me, the way 
         I heard... The way she spoke to you, 
         I don't think I could ever laugh 
         again.

                         NORMAN
                 (Controlled resentment)
         Sometimes when she talks that way to 
         me I'd like to... curse her out and 
         leave her forever!
                 (A rueful smile)
         Or at least, defy her.
                 (A pause, a hopeless 
                 shrug)
         But I couldn't. She's ill.

                         MARY
         She sounded strong...

                         NORMAN
         I mean... ill.
                 (A pause)
         She had to raise me all by herself 
         after my dad died... I was only 
         five... and it must have been a 
         strain. Oh, she didn't have to go 
         out to work or anything, Dad left us 
         with a little something... anyway, a 
         few years ago... Mother met a man. 
         He talked her into building this 
         motel... We could have talked her 
         into anything... and when.  Well... 
         It was just too much for her when he 
         died, too... And the way he died... 
         Oh, it's nothing to talk about when 
         you're eating.
                 (Pauses, smiles)
         Anyway, it was too much of a loss 
         for my mother... she had nothing 
         left.

                         MARY
                 (Critically)
         Except you.

                         NORMAN
         A son is a poor substitute for a 
         lover.
                 (Turns away as if in 
                 distaste of the word)

                         MARY
         Why don't you go away?

                         NORMAN
         To a private island, like you?

                         MARY
         No, not like me.

                         NORMAN
         It's too late for me. And besides... 
         who'd look after her? She'd be alone 
         up there, the fire would go out... 
         damp and cold, like a grave. When 
         you love someone, you don't do that 
         to them, even if you hate them. Oh, 
         I don't hate her.  I hate... what 
         she's become. I hate... the illness.

                         MARY
                 (Slowly, carefully)
         Wouldn't it be better if you put her 
         in... someplace...

 She hesitates. Norman turns, slowly, looking at her with a 
 striking coldness.

                         NORMAN
         An Institution? A madhouse?  People 
         always call a madhouse "someplace."
                 (Mimicing coldly)
         Put her in Someplace!

                         MARY
         I'm sorry... I didn't mean it to 
         sound uncaring...

                         NORMAN
                 (The coldness turning 
                 to tight fury)
         What do you mean about caring?  Have 
         you ever seen one of those places? 
         Inside? Laughing and tears and cruel 
         eyes studying you... and my mother 
         there?  Why? has she harmed you?  
         She's as harmless as... one of these 
         stuffed birds.

                         MARY
         I am sorry. I only felt... it seemed 
         she was harming you. I meant...

                         NORMAN
                 (High fury now)
         Well? You meant well?  People always 
         mean well, they cluck their thick 
         tongues and shake their heads and 
         suggest so very delicately that...

 The fury suddenly dies, abruptly and completely, and he sinks 
 back into his chair. There is a brief silence.

 Mary watches the troubled man, is almost physically pained 
 by his anguish.

                         NORMAN
                 (Quietly)
         I've suggested it myself. But I hate 
         to even think such a thing.  She 
         needs me... and it isn't...
                 (Looks up with a 
                 childlike pleading 
                 in his eyes)
         ...it isn't as if she were a maniac, 
         a raving thing... it's just that... 
         sometimes she goes a little mad. We 
         all go a little mad sometimes. Haven't 
         you?

                         MARY
                 (After a long 
                 thoughtful pause)
         Yes, and just one time can be enough.
                 (Rises)
         Thank you.

                         NORMAN
                 (Cheerfully, correcting)
         Thank you, Norman.

                         MARY
         Norman.

                         NORMAN
         You're not going to... to your room 
         already?

                         MARY
         I'm very tired. And I'll have a long 
         drive tomorrow. All the way back to 
         Phoenix.

                         NORMAN
         Phoenix?

                         MARY
         I stepped into a private trap back 
         there -- and I want to go back and... 
         try to pull myself out.
                 (Looking close at 
                 Norman)
         Before it's too late for me, too.

                         NORMAN
                 (Looking at her)
         Why don't you stay a little while, 
         just for talking.

                         MARY
         I'd like to, but...

                         NORMAN
         Alright. I'll see you in the morning. 
         I'll bring you breakfast.  What time 
         will you...

                         MARY
         Very early. Dawn.

                         NORMAN
         Alright, Miss...
                 (He has forgotten her 
                 name)

                         MARY
         Crane.

                         NORMAN
         That's it.
                 (He frowns, as if 
                 bothered by not being 
                 able to match the 
                 name to the memory 
                 of the name in the 
                 registration book)

                         MARY
         Good night.


...continue to part 4