(truck engine approaching)
(gentle score begins)
(car engine approaching)
(train horn blaring)
(train wheels clacking)
(female vocalizing)
(score fades out)
(dog barking in distance)
(door creaks open)
- DOCTOR: Now, you used to work at the rail company.
- FRANK: Yeah, I used to sit behind window three.
- And what have you been doing since the station closed down?
- I've been looking for work, um...
Taking care of my mother...
(stammers)
Thinking.
- SHERIFF: What are you thinking about?
- Life. The future.
This town.
- And what did you think about life, the future and this town?
(stammers)
- You just got to take things as they come.
- So, that's your motto, is it?
Take things as they come?
- Yeah, what else can you do?
(stammers)
Sometimes it's important to be prepared too, absolutely.
- Why do you think
there are so many accidents here in Karmack?
(Frank laughs)
- Maybe it's because there are so many people here
who have never seen the ocean.
(inhales)
- You'll have to explain that a little more.
- Yeah, like a metaphor.
- You'll have to explain that a little more, too.
(stammers)
- We pretty much don't have a choice
but to stay here in-in Karmack and...
- Very soon, we might not be able to even afford
to turn on the streetlamps in the evening,
and that, in turn, will lead to even more accidents.
So, that's why we have to hire a Middle Man.
It's called planning.
- Yeah, yeah.
- Are you aware of what the position involves?
- I think I have a pretty good idea.
- Even in extremely difficult circumstances?
- I sat behind window three
and the passengers,
they were not always easy to deal with, I can tell you that.
Especially towards the end,
they would blame me for the trains not stopping.
And that's not fair, you know. They were very unfair.
But I did my job 'til the end.
- PASTOR: Eh, but this is something different.
You'll have to meet people face to face
at the most difficult times.
- What we're asking, Farrelli, quite simply,
is whether or not you have any experience conveying bad news.
- Yeah.
I had to tell my mother
that my father was dead.
- What did he die of?
- He fell down from a ladder.
He was repairing the-the gutter.
It wasn't really that high but
he hit a scythe in the grass, so...
head first, so...
his head cracked open like an egg.
Probably shouldn't say it like that
but that's what it looked like and that's, yeah...
It was terrible.
- SHERIFF: Hm.
Are you crying, Farrelli?
So, we can't have a Middle Man who cries.
- I never cry.
- Crying is a privilege
that belongs to the next of kin.
Not to the Middle Man.
- BLENDA: How'd it go?
- Uh, I don't know.
- I think you have a really good chance, Frank.
I mean, you can't be a Middle Man
with a pockmarked face.
The victims are tormented enough already, you know?
Also, he has a difficult temper.
That alone makes Bob Spencer unsuitable for a Middle Man.
- Yeah, you think so?
- I'm sure.
I mean the poor victims don't need a loudmouth
on top of everything else, you know.
- No, no.
- Thanks
- Yeah. I like your haircut.
(toilet flushing)
- Hey, Bill.
A T-bone, please.
- BILL: T-bone, huh?
Splurging today. Celebrating something?
- Maybe. Maybe not.
- That'll be, uh, 20 bucks.
- $207? - It's a T-bone.
- Okay, then just-just make it half.
- Nobody orders half a T-bone!
- Yeah, well...
- You're gonna make me do this, huh?
(cleaver smashes onto cutting board)
Ow! Shit! Fuck you, Farrelli!
- I didn't do anything.
- Fuck you anyway!
- I think you got to go to the hospital, Bill.
- I'm not going to any damn hospital in Karmack!
Here, take your meat. 15 bucks!
- Fif-- You said 20 for the whole thing.
- It's the biggest part of the T-bone.
- You didn't even weigh it.
- Pay for your meat and get the hell out of here.
- You should be careful.
- Get the fuck out of here, Farrelli.
(birds trilling in distance)
(crow cawing)
- Ma?
Oh, you're home.
- FRANK'S MOTHER: Yeah, slept again.
Can't seem to get over the habit.
You got the job?
- It was pretty crazy.
It was like being interrogated.
- About what?
- You know, everything.
I mean, honestly,
I don't think many people would have coped with that.
They even asked me about Dad.
- Why?
- Because it, you know, proves that I can keep my cool
when bad luck strikes.
- I don't think you should bring your dad into this.
He's got nothing to do with it.
- Oh, you think I should just ignore the question?
You think I would've gotten the job if I did that?
- Did you get the job? - No, not yet, but--
- And you're celebrating without even knowing
if you got the job?
- Yeah, they said that I stood a good chance.
- Well, they always say that.
- Yeah.
(Frank's mother sighs)
(pot down on stove)
They always say that.
(television news fanfare in background)
(male television news announcer speaking faintly in background)
(television news fanfare)
- So...
did you get the letter?
- Maybe. Haven't read it yet.
- Oh, you have so.
- And so have you. You could just tell me what it says?
- Now, don't be mean. I don't read other people's letters.
- It was open.
- Well, maybe someone from the Commission
delivered it personally
and that means that you're important to them.
- Yeah, we'll see. There's a trial period: two months.
- I'm proud of you, Frank.
Karmack's new Middle Man.
(chuckles)
(gentle score begins)
(score fades out)
(dog barking in distance)
STEVE: What do you need gas for?
You going to burn down the house?
- That's not funny, Steve.
- I think it's pretty funny.
- How's your dad?
- Oh, he's hobbling along.
It's going to be six bucks. You got that much?
- I'll have that much. - When?
- Monday. - That's not funny either.
- Aw, wait and see.
- For what?
- It, uh, might just so happen
that I got a job.
- No way.
- Yep. It might just so happen.
- Wow, man.
- Say, uh, say hi to your dad.
- Yeah, you too. I mean, you know, to your mom.
- Yeah.
- And... Congrats, man.
- This your car, Farrelli?
- Yeah. Sorry.
- Are you planning on using it for your job?
- Wasn't planning on it.
- Well, if you do plan on it, you'll at least
have to get it repainted.
You can't drive around with a car this color.
You're not some kind of traveling salesman.
Do you want know what the worst part of this job is?
- All the grief?
- Ah, you get used to that.
But you never get used to never knowing what will happen
when you deliver the news.
Some people, they just shake their heads.
Others black out.
Some get mad at you.
Some just laugh.
It's damned hard, you know.
Each person has their own way of grieving
and no two people's grief is the same.
But the worst thing is when you get blamed for what happened.
That's the worst.
- Yeah, that's not fair.
- Fair?
There's no fairness in all of this, Farrelli.
There's no reason either. It's just chaos.
Oh, and in case we didn't say so yesterday, Farrelli,
you're bound by confidentiality.
- Okay. Yeah.
- Even if we don't say anything, that's confidential too. Got it?
- Yeah. Thank you.
(doorbell jingles)
- MRS. STOUT: Can I help you?
- Uh, yeah, I'm here about a suit.
- John, you've got a customer.
John?
- Hey, uh, the Sheriff sent me.
I'm the new Middle Man.
- MR. STOUT: I know, Mister...
- Farrelli. - Farrelli.
A black suit, then.
Stand here...
and, uh, let me take your coat.
Now,
arms at your side.
Stand straight and, if you don't move,
I don't need a measuring tape.
- Okay.
- Well, you certainly are tall, Mr. Farrelli.
Now...
Arms out.
Thank you, put them down.
(Mrs. Stout hums)
Now...
The wife certainly is on a high today.
FRANK: I can hear that.
- Jimmy's coming home today. Jimmy's our son.
- He's been away?
- In the military. Fort West and, uh, he served abroad.
- He deserves a warm welcome then.
- Well, he will. I guarantee that.
Right, Barbara?
- Oh, I just hope he hasn't gotten too thin.
- Well, uh, knowing you, that won't last too long.
If the boy's become too thin, I mean.
- Yeah.
MR. STOUT: Mr. Farrelli,
do you like fishing?
- Uh...
I don't have too much time for fishing, I'm afraid.
- That's not really what I asked.
Stand straight, don't move.
(Mrs. Stout hums)
(chuckles)
POLICE DISPATCHER: All right, continue to respond.
- God damn, Farrelli.
(Sheriff clears throat)
And they're both in there?
- Oh, yeah, yeah.
- How were they?
- Good.
Yeah, waiting for Jimmy, their son, to come home.
He's-he's, yeah, that's good.
- He's not coming home.
He went off the road over by the town entry sign.
Too fast. Straight into the river.
- Today of all days.
- Are there some days better than others to lose your son?
- No-no, I-I...
I was just thinking about today, you know,
with him coming home.
- Be careful what you say.
- Yeah.
- You only get one chance.
And that means you say as little as possible.
- Uh, so should I go tell them?
- Would you deny them
another couple of minutes of normal life?
- I just thought they had the right to know
as soon as possible.
- Good news can never be passed on soon enough
but we don't work in that department.
We're not in that branch, Farrelli.
There's never a rush with bad news, just...
Let them look forward to Jimmy coming home.
- I just think they, I mean, they closed the shop
and I think they're getting ready to go
set off to see him.
(Sheriff sighs)
- All right.
Damn job.
Where do you think you're going?
- Shouldn't I come along?
- I think you should sit here and think about the difference
between good and bad news.
- I just think it could be a really,
like, important learning experience for me to be there.
- All right.
But you stay in the background, you keep your mouth shut.
Listen and learn. Got it?
- Got it.
(Mrs. Stout hums)
(knocking on door)
(doorbell jingles)
(Sheriff clears throat)
- I'm sorry to inform you that your son...
Jimmy was killed in a car accident.
- That's not true!
John?
- Is it true? Jimmy's dead?
- The roads were slippery with all the rain.
I'm sorry.
- Where is he?
- We took him to the hospital half an hour ago.
- I want to see him.
- I'll drive you there.
- Are you coming, John?
- Jimmy's dead. I can't see him like that.
- John...
(doorbell jingles)
- Jimmy and I, uh...
Well, often go to the mill.
(solemn score)
You can get some really good bass there, you know?
And, uh...
Sometimes we'd, uh...
We'd stay up all night.
Just talking.
Like a father and son should talk.
You know?
My little boy.
(pained cry)
(crying)
(solemn score fades out)
- Well, why can't you tell me?
- I'm bound by confidentiality.
- Yeah, but I'm your mother, Frank!
You're bound by me!
- Even if I got nothing to tell,
it's confidential.
- Oh, for pity's sake.
- Congrats, man! Mr. Middle Man.
Not bad.
- Thanks.
- So now you want a grey car!
- Yeah, yeah, and just like a...
full overhaul.
- This isn't something you're making up, is it?
- Oh, no, no, no. They signed it.
The Town Hall's paying.
See, this is what-this is what they spend my tax money on!
I mean, don't they have other things to do?
- Other than what?
- Repainting piece-of-shit cars.
- You sold me that car.
- Yeah. - Yeah.
(scoffs)
Oh, if you only knew, Steve.
- If I only knew what?
- I'm sworn to secrecy. I'm sorry, I can't, I can't...
- Aw, come on, don't get all stuck-up now.
- I think you should just get to work.
I mean, I'm going to need the car.
(police siren wails in distance)
- I, you know, ll...
I've got my hands full, man.
- With what? Holding the cloth?
(laughs)
- You know, there's stuff to do
even-even when there's nothing to do.
- You're exhausted.
I'm going to pull up the car.
(engine turns over)
(engine turns off)
(women talking indistinctly)
- Good morning, Frank.
- Hey.
- I'll show you to your office.
(Frank clears his throat)
This is from Mr. Stout, the tailor.
And, uh, here are your business cards.
Hot off the press.
So, um, welcome to us, Frank!
Just ask me if you have any questions.
- Thanks.
- Okay.
(gentle score begins)
(gentle score fades out)
(distant thunder rumbles)
- Can't you just change your clothes
and fix the gutter or something?
- I don't think you understand.
I'm actually busy now.
- Busy?
You had more to do when you were unemployed.
- You think accidents keep office hours?
You have to be ready.
- You know, these accidents are biding our time.
I think I liked you better with long hair.
- ARTHUR: Mr. Middle Man himself!
- Hey, Arthur.
I've started my own company now.
A cleaning company.
- Congrats.
- Clintstone Street Cleaners.
No normal cleaning company.
I'm cleaning away all the muck
that's left after mishaps.
Doing quite well.
$500 for blood,
$1,000 for, uh, excrement.
$5,000 for brain matter.
- Found your niche.
- The only niche in Karmack that is a growth industry.
You're in the same business yourself.
- Yeah, I don't know...
- It's a little quiet right now but there will be an upturn
sooner or later.
Giving new meaning to the term bad times.
(laughing)
When I got the job scrubbing the ambulances
out at the hospital,
I had to employ another man.
Bob Spencer, you know him.
- Yeah, he wanted to be Middle Man.
- I've invested in the very best equipment, Frank.
If you could put in a good word for me at the commission,
I would be very thankful.
- Sure. I'll see what I can do.
- Thank you, Frank. I owe you a favour.
- Hey. - What's up?
- Yeah, well, no accidents for weeks now.
- That's good.
- Yeah, just don't want to be out of a job just because
people were lucky for a few days.
That's not fair.
- What's fair, Frank?
- Yeah.
- So, does your dad ever get to the garage anymore?
- No, just me.
- Well, does he miss it?
- I don't know, he just stays home.
- Oh.
Well, that's sad.
- Well, yeah.
He would've loved this meal.
It's really great, Mrs. Farrelli, thank you.
- Thank you.
- So, how's the new job?
- Uh, it's, uh, it's a little quiet.
- Oh, yeah? Well, that's good, right?
- Good that it's quiet?
- Yeah. I mean...
there are no accidents.
- Yeah, but...
Yeah. Yeah, I guess you could see it like that.
(beer sloshes in bottle)
- So...
they give you an office and stuff?
- Uh, yeah. I got my own office.
Um, I got my own secretary.
- Secretary? You're kidding?
- Yeah, I'm not kidding.
Blenda Johnson.
She, uh, gets lunch for me every day,
she waters my plants, she sorts out all my files...
Couldn't live without her.
- You never told me that, Frank.
- Well, you never asked, so...
- I mean, what-what do you do?
- Oh, I can't talk about it.
- What? Aw, come on.
- Well, I can't tell you.
- Why not?
- Because I'm sworn to secrecy, Steve.
- Oh, he doesn't tell me anything either.
Just walks around the house in his black suit all the time.
- Yeah, of course.
- Surely you can tell us something.
- I've signed a non-disclosure agreement.
- Come on, it's just your buddy
and your mother sitting here!
- Oh, you want me to risk years in jail
just because you're my buddy and my mom?
- Frank, You haven't turned all big-headed, have you?
- No.
- And he's got business cards too.
- Business cards. Show me.
- No.
- Show me, please.
Wow.
Frank Farrelli.
Middle Man.
- You can keep it.
- No thanks, man. I know where to find you.
Anyway, I don't need a Middle Man.
(radio plays music in background)
- Hey,
a large whiskey and a...
small beer.
- Nah, just a ginger ale.
BOB: Frank Farrelli is here,
looking for casualties.
- Fuck that loser.
Who's that lady?
She's not a regular.
(chuckles)
Maybe I should get her another one of those
blue drinks.
- Jesus, that's Mrs. Stout
who lost her son.
- Oh. Yeah.
Maybe I can console her.
- It's not funny. I'm the one who had to tell her
and it wasn't easy.
- Jesus, Frank, I thought...
- I thought you were sworn to secrecy.
- I am and that's why I'm not saying more.
BARTENDER: Smoke outside, Steve.
- Aw, come on, man.
- Let's not have any trouble, all right?
- No tips for you.
- Co-- Come on.
- What song would you like to hear, Ma'am?
- Whatever you want, handsome.
But I've got a soft spot for B-12.
- B-127?
B-12. That was exactly the song I was going to play.
Do you know what that means?
- What does it mean?
- That means
we were meant for each other.
(laughter)
B-12.
(Steve slams jukebox)
Come on.
- This numbskull bothering you?
- No, you're the one bothering me.
(Steve slams jukebox harder)
BOB: Hey!
Are you wrecking our jukebox, numbskull?
- Listen to the lady.
You're bothering us.
- If you kick it one more time...
- Yeah, what are you going to do, pimple-face?
(record skips)
("Believing" by Kristin Asbjornsen plays)
I got a feelin'...
- Steve?
(record skips repeatedly)
Steve! Steve?
Call an ambulance. Jesus.
I got a feelin'
- Steve?
(police truck siren blares)
(police truck engine turns off)
(stretcher pneumatics whine)
(patient monitor beeps)
POLICEMAN: Sheriff.
- I hope this has nothing to do with you.
- That's my best friend. It could have been me.
- What happened?
- He hit him. Bastard.
- Steve was kicking the jukebox. Probably thought it might help.
- So it seemed they were both at it,
as is usually the case when people come to blows.
- I didn't even hit him hard.
I've hit people harder before and nobody ever died.
- So whose fault is it?
Is it the jukebox's fault.
Why can't anyone just straight out say:
I'm guilty.
It was me.
(ambulance siren wails in distance)
Why didn't you say that your friend kicked the jukebox?
- I didn't think it mattered.
- You're not Middle Man now, Frank, you're a witness.
And that's something quite different.
- Okay.
- As the Middle Man you do get to choose what you say
but as a witness, you've only got one choice.
The truth.
- Yeah.
So, yeah, he-he kicked the jukebox.
I mean, he-he put money in there and nothing happened.
- What happened after he kicked it, Frank?
- They had like a back and forth with--
(sighs)
Bob called Steve a numbskull
and Steve called Bob a pimple-face.
- That wasn't a very nice thing to say.
- No, but you're not allowed to knock someone out for it.
- What is Mrs. Stout doing here?
- She's drinking.
- I can see that, Frank.
Thanks for the help.
- Are you going to arrest me, Sheriff?
- Wasn't planning to, Mrs. Stout.
- But you think it's improper my being here, don't you?
- That is none of my business.
I was just wondering
if you saw or heard anything just now?
- Well, you can arrest me now
because I'm going to break the law.
(Sheriff sniffs)
- I know you're going through a difficult time, Mrs. Stout,
but you don't need to make things difficult for me.
- Are you having a hard time?
- I know that my problems cannot compare...
- I'm the one who started it.
- Really?
In what way?
- I asked him to put on B-12.
- Hm.
Not a bad choice, Mrs. Stout.
Have you been drinking?
- No.
- Then drive over to the hospital,
see how things are going with your buddy.
- I think he's still on the operating table.
HOSPITAL DOCTOR: He's, um, he's got massive brain damage.
He's on a respirator in a coma.
If he regains consciousness, which he probably never will,
but if he does, contrary to my expectations,
and I'm really sorry to have to say this,
but it will be as a complete vegetable.
Um, will you notify Mr. Miller?
- Mm-hm.
(melancholy score begins)
(deep inhale)
Didn't he used to live with his dad?
- Yeah, it's his only family.
- You do know him, right?
The father, I mean. Steve's father.
- Sure. Martin.
(score fades out)
- MR. MILLER: Yeah, hey, nice suit.
Steve says you've got a job. Something about getting mixed up
with the Town Hall.
- Yeah, I wouldn't say I'm mixed up but...
- So, what are you then?
- I'm a Middle Man.
- A Middle Man?
Never heard of one. What's a Middle Man do?
- A Middle Man brings people news.
- And now you've brought some news for me?
(Frank sniffles)
- Steve, um...
was knocked out last night.
At the bar.
He was a bit heavy on the bottle, I guess.
- Uh, wait.
What the hell did you just say?
- No, not that he was heavier than the rest of us--
- No, wait, wait, wait, wait. You said it again.
- What?
- You said "was" when you're talking about Steve.
I mean...
if you're looking for him,
he's at your place having supper.
- Yeah, he-he was there.
- Well, so, is he down in the car?
- No, he was knocked out, Martin.
- Well, so, just say it.
- Well, he, uh...
Steve did not get back up this time.
- Well, what do you mean didn't get back up?
Is he still lying there?
- No. The ambulance came for him but...
- Is Steve at the hospital?
- Yes. On a respirator,
in a coma and it looks bad, Martin, that's it.
- Well, he's going to wake up again.
- 1, uh, I don't want to give you false hope,
um, but I want to tell you that, uh,
you should see that as comforting.
You know, that Steve's not suffering.
- Wait, are you telling me there's no hope?
I mean, if that's the case,
I think you should pack off back to the Town Hall.
- Yeah.
I know it's difficult, Martin.
- And stop calling me Martin every time you open your mouth!
I'll tell you another thing, Frank,
I've never liked you.
You've always been someone who tags along.
You've got no backbone.
And I'm not the only one who says so.
- The blow broke his nose.
But that's not the worst part.
- Well, so what's the worst part?
- Steve's head hit the edge of the jukebox
as he fell to the floor
and his brain
was moved out of place,
and if he was to, unexpectedly,
wake up again,
it wouldn't be the Steve we once knew.
(Martin clears his throat)
- You mean, uh...
Like a vegetable?
- Yeah.
This is eerie.
There's no one aboard.
- It's a whole fleet of empty, abandoned boats.
The well-heeled upriver can't afford to keep 'em anymore
so they cut the moorings,
report the boats missing
and, eventually, collect the insurance money.
If we were lucky, we could've had the scrap deposit.
- From who?
- The insurance company.
(laughs)
(ambulance reversing warning beeps)
(Martin sniffles)
I didn't mean what I said before, Frank.
- About what?
- About you packing off back to the Town Hall.
I didn't mean it.
- That's okay.
- You're a good Middle Man, Frank. I want you to know that.
And, uh...
I'm glad it was you who came to tell me.
(patient monitor beeps slowly)
(sobbing)
(crying)
(car engine turns over)
- Something bothering you, Frank?
- No.
- I mean, it wouldn't be odd with the job you do.
Not everyone could take it, you know.
- Do you think I look like someone
who brings people bad news?
- Well, I mean,
when you're at work you bring people bad news.
But, looking at you now, I can't see that.
- Okay.
That's good.
- How's Steve doing?
- Ah, he's just laying there now.
- Do you think he's going to wake up?
- I don't know.
But I'm there for him, no matter what.
- That's very nice of you, Frank.
- You know, uh, my birthday,
it's in the middle of the summer and, uh...
(gentle score begins)
Steve was the only one who ever came to my party.
You know, because back then, things were good and...
most people left in July
but Martin and my dad, they...
they didn't see a reason to ever leave Karmack, so...
Yeah.
- Is there no hope at all for him?
- No, his dad has hope.
He's there the whole time but Steve doesn't know that.
- Yeah, still,
it would be a shame if he had to lay there all alone.
- You know, everybody's got their own way of grieving.
- True.
- Sometimes I wonder
what are accidents, really?
- Well, you certainly shouldn't say that
in front of the Commission.
- No?
I guess.
- You're thinking a lot, Frank.
- Yeah.
Yeah.
That's why I find it so useful to, you know,
read the reports, study them, compare them.
You know, then maybe someday,
someone will read my reports.
Make sense of it.
- You know, I really like talking to you,
but I don't want a man who takes his work home with him.
(scoffs)
(score fades out)
(car engine turns off)
(thunder rumbles overhead)
(patient monitor beeping)
(door opens, closes)
- He moved his left eyelid this morning.
- That's just the tissue swelling up, Martin.
- What do you know?
- He's gone.
Steve's gone.
- Maybe there's something inside there
that feels something!
- There is nothing in there.
You might as well just pull the plug, Martin.
- Pull the plug?
What the hell are you talking about?
- Turn off the switch. Let him go like the
boat without a captain, you know?
(door opens, closes)
- Steve?
Steve.
(ambulance siren whoops)
(gentle piano score begins)
(children playing in distance)
(front door opens, closes)
(approaching footsteps)
(gentle score fades out)
- Is there any coffee?
- Aren't you going to say hello to your mother?
- Sure. Hello.
- Where have you been?
- None of your business.
- I've been waiting up all night for you.
- Well, you didn't have to.
- You could have called.
I haven't slept a wink, I've been so worried about you.
What, with all the accidents that are happening in town,
and I don't know who you're keeping company with anymore.
(phone rings)
- Hello?
Yeah.
Yeah, I'll be there.
- Who was it? - Pastor Nielsen.
- Well, what did he say? - I got to go.
- Oh, good.
(sighs)
Veronica Mills and Marion Perkins.
Only 18 years old!
- Why would they be on the tracks?
At 2:45 am.?
We don't know.
(inhales, exhales)
They were dragged beneath the train
for several hundred yards.
Both of them were so badly injured
that they were barely recognizable.
The Sheriff is at the scene
and the Doctor's at the hospital.
- Who should we inform first?
- Let's take one each.
- Hello.
- Hey.
- Why did you leave?
- You didn't want to wake up alone?
- Did I give you that impression that you weren't welcome?
- No. It's just...
(stammers slightly)
I just didn't know what to say.
- Well, you didn't have to say anything at all, Frank.
Hurry up, now and get it over and done with.
(engine turns off)
- They have been found.
MR. PERKINS: Where were they found.
- By the train tracks.
MRS. PERKINS: If it hadn't been for that Veronica...
She's a bad influence. I've never liked her--
- Margaret, stop!
It's our friends' daughter you're talking about.
Marion's best friend.
This is also about her now.
Sorry.
- It's okay.
They were hit
by the train.
- What happened?
- Veronica Mills
is presumed to have died
instantly.
- And-and Marion?
- Marion is alive.
- Thank goodness.
(deep inhale)
- She was, however,
very seriously injured
and she is now at the hospital--
- I want to go see her. Now.
- Yes... - Margaret! Margaret!
- How could they be so stupid to walk on the tracks
in the dark?
I just don't get it.
- People do all kinds of things we don't get.
- Yeah, but they must have known that that was the exact moment
the train was passing, right?
- Yeah, maybe they did.
- Did what?
- Didn't you say that you didn't want a man who took his job home
with him?
- This is Smith's Bowling and Diner.
You can tell me here.
- Maybe they knew.
- And that's why they were there.
BOB: Uh, coffee!
- BLENDA: Frank. - FRANK: Aw, fuck.
- Hey.
Guess it was you who fixed the job for Farrelli.
- Ooh. Cut it out, Bob.
- I'm sure you had a hand in it, didn't you?
Or was it a whole arm?
- Would you just stop?
- You used to be able to take a joke, Blenda.
How's it going, anyway?
- Fine.
- Long time no see, by the way.
- And that's why it's going fine, Bob.
- Yeah. And Steve?
- What about him?
- Has he woken up yet?
- No.
- Thought I should pay him a visit.
Must be dull lying there alone.
- Oh, he's not alone.
His dad's there the whole time.
Doesn't need visitors. Especially not you.
- I think you should leave now.
- And you've finally got a girl.
- Oh, have 1?
- Don't pay any attention to him.
- I think you should go before this ends--
- Oh? You own this place?
- SALLY: No, but I do, though.
Come.
- I'm going anyway. - Come on.
You know what, Farrelli?
They've fucking thrown out the jukebox!
- Oh, Come on. - On the garbage heap!
An old nice jukebox on the garbage heap!
- Come on, now.
- So? It doesn't work anyway, pimple-face.
- You know what, Farrelli? - Yeah?
- It's your fault, the whole thing.
- Fuck you. - Your fucking fault.
SALLY: Come on, now. Come on. BOB: You're bad luck, Farrelli.
- Maybe we should just go home.
- Yeah.
- You think The Grand will ever open again?
(gentle piano score begins)
- I don't know.
- It would be nice to go to the movies together.
- You think so?
- Yeah.
I mean, you must have seen a lot of movies when your father
worked there, right?
- Yeah.
I was just a kid, but...
Yeah, I miss it.
Him.
I haven't been inside since...
Do you want to come up?
- Uh, yeah, I just...
I've got some stuff that I've got to fix for tomorrow so...
- All right then.
I like your shirt!
- I should have hit him.
I should have.
(gentle piano score fades out)
(cell phone buzzes)
- Hello?
Yes, he is.
It's for you. It's the Sheriff.
(clears throat)
- Hello?
Okay.
Yeah.
Yeah, thanks. Yeah.
- I wonder how he knew you were here?
- Yeah.
I got to go.
- Okay.
- How's Marion doing?
- Her mother just sits there.
Won't leave the room.
- Yeah.
Martin Miller does the same.
It can be good support.
- Is it?
How so?
- It's just good to know that--
- Marion doesn't know.
(elevator door slides open)
You know what her mother says?
Every day she says that Marion's moving her eyelid.
- You never know. Martin Miller says the same.
- But our daughter hasn't got a face, you know.
- NURSE: He was sitting in the chair next to Steve's bed.
I actually thought he was sleeping.
His death can't have been much of a surprise to him, though.
He left this letter for you.
- Okay.
Thanks.
(door creaks open, closes)
Martin's dead.
- Martin's dead?
- Yeah.
And I have inherited his property.
I got the garage and the house
and maybe I'll move there.
- Steve's not dead yet.
- I inherited him too.
(footsteps recede then move upstairs)
(patient monitor beeps slowly)
(engine turns off)
(crows cawing)
Thanks.
(thunder rumbles in distance)
Steve was the best at track and field
you know, back when people still set records here in Karmack.
- Would you like to live here?
- You think that this looks like a place where
anyone would like to live?
- If we spruce it up a bit, it could be nice.
- Yeah.
Maybe Martin died
so that he wouldn't have to pull the plug.
If he left everything to me, that must mean that
he realized that Steve was never going to wake up again.
- Would you like me to be there?
- Yeah.
(thunder cracks)
(patient monitor beeps)
So, we, um...
we buried Martin.
Well, we scattered his ashes in the river.
Just like you wanted.
But, um...
I'm not sure what to do with you.
You know...
Maybe you could just help me out.
- It's okay, Frank.
- Yeah.
(deep inhale)
(heavy sigh)
Oh, did you see that?
- No. What?
- Did he move an eyelid?
- I didn't see that.
- I-1 think maybe he did.
- Okay, but I didn't see it. I would lie if I said I did.
(Frank sniffles)
(Frank sighs deeply)
(Sheriff sighs)
- Lying there like that is not what Steve would've wanted.
It's not
befitting of a man.
We're prolonging his death, not his life.
(Frank sniffles twice)
(Frank sighs)
(medical machinery powers down)
(flatline tone)
You did the right thing.
Keeping him alive was unnatural.
- We-we did the right thing.
- No. Of course.
(Frank sniffles)
- I have, uh...
I've decided that Steve
will be cremated and his ashes scattered in the river.
Same place as Martin's.
- Okay.
But it's still not legal.
- Maybe we could just use Martin's urn.
He's not going to use it anymore.
- PASTOR: Oh, no-no-no-no, that's not appropriate.
(knocking on door)
- DOCTOR: Ah, yes?
(inaudible dialogue)
I see. Oh.
Oh, ah, gentlemen,
we're needed in the other room.
- Can you stay with him?
(flatline tone continues)
- MRS. PERKINS: Marion!
MARION: Where is Marion?
- You're Marion.
You're just confused, dear!
- I want to see Mom.
I just want to see Mom. Please.
- MRS PERKINS: I'm your mother, Marion. It's me.
You're just confused and tired.
- MARION/VERONICA: I don't want you here, Mrs. Perkins.
- There's been some kind of misunderstanding,
Mrs. Perkins.
The worst kind.
Mrs. Perkins, let's, uh...
Can we just...?
(Mrs. Perkins screams)
- VERONICA: [ just want to see Mom.
(screaming continues in hall)
Please.
- This means great trouble.
The whole commission is in danger of being ridiculed.
The best we can hope for is try and limit the damage.
- Yeah, but how could this happen? I mean, it's--
(Doctor sighs)
- I managed to inject Mrs. Perkins with a sedative
and I moved her to a room of her own.
- Good.
Tomorrow morning, I'll inform Mrs. Perkins.
Frank, you'll be the one to inform Veronica's parents.
And then we got to dig up Marion.
- And I have to do the funeral all over again.
- That's the least of our problems.
- Doctor: All right, all right, let me get in there.
(rain splattering on roof of Frank's car)
- And if she woke up,
then what about Steve?
(gentle piano score begins)
Maybe he was trying to say something? Maybe he was...
laying there,
begging for his life?
You know?
You ever seen the ocean?
- No.
- Me neither.
(gentle score fades out)
(wood splitter whining)
- Mr. Mills?
I'm here to tell you that there's been a development
in the case.
(wood splitter turns off)
- Which case?
- Your daughter's case.
- What are you telling me?
- I'm here to tell you that the case has taken a new turn.
For the better.
- For the better?
- Yeah.
Veronica
put on Marion's jacket
and Marion put on Veronica's hoodie.
(gentle piano score begins)
They swapped clothes.
And now,
your daughter is waiting for you
at the hospital.
Mr. Mills? Mr. Mills.
Do you understand what I'm saying?
(wood splitter whirrs to life)
(gentle score fades out)
- DOCTOR: That's fine, Frank, I'll take it from here.
Good morning.
Please, please, go ahead.
- FRANK: Should I-- - DOCTOR: That's fine, Frank.
Just, uh, to the right, please.
Uhh...
- Do you hear that?
- What?
- There's music
and-and voices?
- No.
- Yeah, come on. Listen.
- The cinema's been closed for years.
(doorknob rattles)
- Do you have the key?
- No!
(exhales)
(distant indistinct voices and music)
That door is closed, Frank!
(gentle score begins)
(gentle score fades out)
- Would you like to stay on as Middle Man?
- If there's need for me, I would. Yep.
- Well, we just said that we're short-staffed, so,
for the moment, we don't really have any choice.
Tell me something, Farrelli,
which visit has been the most, uh,
significant for you?
- Steve Miller.
- And what about him?
- It was the most significant and the most difficult.
- Are you referring to the evening
when you had to tell Martin that Steve was in a coma?
- No. When I had to turn off the switch.
- Had to?
Was there someone forcing you, Farrelli?
- No.
- Well, did you do it for Steve's sake?
- It was still me who had to do it.
- Switching Steve off wasn't work.
That was on your spare time.
Now, you have got to be clear about your thoughts.
"Cause, otherwise, we're going to have to get someone else.
- Someone else?
- Bob Spencer, for example. He also applied for the job.
- He's was the one who hit Steve!
- Everyone makes mistakes.
That's all, Farrelli.
- Yep.
(door slams closed)
- How'd it go?
- So-so.
- So-so?
- Yeah, so-so.
- But you still get to stay, don't you?
Are you angry at me?
- I'm not angry at anyone.
- Well, you're angry anyway.
- No, they're angry at me.
- Who?
The Commission. They've been
bullying me now for 45 minutes.
- But you're still Middle Man, aren't you?
- Yeah, so they tell me.
For now.
(deep sigh)
- They're just testing you, Frank.
To see how strong you are. If you can take it.
You know, not everyone could take it.
- I'm doing the best I can.
And it's not easy.
- Well...
You know, I was thinking maybe
we could do up Steve's place a bit.
- What for?
- Well, it's really your place.
We could spend the summer there.
Maybe.
(stammers)
- That doesn't feel--
- Right?
- Yeah. No.
- Everybody knows how difficult that business with Steve was.
- Who said it was difficult?
- I do.
- You want to know what that was like?
You didn't even look. It was too easy.
It was just--
(snaps fingers)
- Frank. Please. - You want to see that again?
(snaps fingers)
Seem difficult to you?
- You're being nasty.
- Oh, nasty? I thought I was angry!
I'm sorry.
- BOB: Farrelli!
You don't have much time left now, do you?
Now that you've made asses of yourself.
- The girls swapped jackets.
Not even the parents could see the difference, motherfucker.
- Well, it could've been worse, Farrelli.
You could've buried the girl who's alive!
(door slams shut)
(electric calculator whirring and clacking)
- Mr. Middle Man!
Have you got any good news for me?
- You said that you wanted to do me a favour.
- So, you put in a good word for me at the commission?
- Oh, yeah, yeah. I kept my part of the deal.
- So, what can I do for you?
- Knock Bob Spencer down.
- Why?
- Because he knocked Steve Miller down. He deserves it.
- But he works for me, Frank.
- Oh, you don't want to do me the favor?
- Why can't you do it yourself?
- I'm part of the Commission. It's not fitting for me.
- Would it do if I just gave him a tap??
- A tap? A what?
You think that's a fair price for Bob Spencer?
- I'm his employer.
- Okay, then.
Better than nothing.
- Okay, I'm going to tell him that it was you
who told me to do it.
Just so you know.
(phone rings)
- Hello.
What do you mean "wrong"?
Where are you?
Yeah, I don't want to talk to Bob.
Okay.
Yeah, I'm coming.
(engine turns off)
(dogs barking in distance)
Hey. What's going on?
- He's dead, Frank.
Bob Spencer's dead!
(dogs continue barking)
- What did you do?
- I'm not alone here. You were the one who ordered this!
- To kill him?
- You think I did that on purpose? Do you?
- What happened then?
- I asked Bob to come down over here and--
He probably thought it was about a job.
Bob came along,
asked me what was up.
I told him I had to give him a tap
"cause Frank Farrelli asked me to do that.
So I gave him a tap.
Not hard at all but he wouldn't put up with that
so he gave me a tap back. And he didn't tap me
the way that I tapped him, so
he tapped me with a clenched fist, right,
much harder.
So, I had to defend myself.
Suddenly he just made this awful whining sound and dropped dead.
- We're just going to stay calm.
- Still have to figure a way to get rid of him.
- Okay.
Come on.
Aw, fuck.
- ARTHUR: I think I saw a light.
- Where?
- In the window.
- No, it can't be. There's no one there.
(grunts and efforts)
(sharp exhale)
(exhale)
(sniffs)
(beer sloshes in bottle)
- Fuck you, Farrelli!
Just as it was starting to work out!
(sniffs)
(B-12 plays quietly)
- What the fuck?
- It's B-12.
(window glass shatters)
- Come on. Come on.
(fire roars)
(truck engine roars to life)
("Believing" by Kristin Asbjornsen plays)
I got a feeling...
(vocalizing)
That I can believe in
(footsteps approach softly)
(key in door lock and door unlocking)
(door opens)
(sniffles)
- It's almost three in the morning.
Where have you been?
- At the hotel.
Haven't you heard?
They've opened it for a weekend seminar.
- Oh.
For all the idiots who want to come to Karmack?
- Well, all those idiots will leave their money behind.
Or haven't you heard that either?
What's up with you, Frank?
- Aw, nothing.
I just hope you haven't been ingratiating yourself with them.
Ingratiating myself?
Whatever do you mean?
- Aw, you know.
- No, I don't know, so you might as well explain it to me.
- Eh...
Just...
jabbering away. Like you always do.
- What would I talk to those people about?
- I don't know.
Me?
- You?
Why would I speak to anyone about you?
- Would that be so strange?
- Well, yes, actually, it would.
- I think you should go to bed.
- So, where have you been?
- Where do you think?
- Your jacket reeks of gas.
- Yeah.
Went by the garage.
- What were you doing there?
- Yeah, it's my garage now. Remember?
You seen Blenda by the way?
- Wouldn't you like to know.
- Okay. Yeah, just tell me.
- What I can tell you
is that she popped in here earlier.
- Here? Why?
- Well, that I can't tell you.
- Why can't you tell me?
- Because it's a secret.
- Well, you could never keep a secret anyway, so come on.
- Frank Farrelli, Junior, you know nothing about that.
But she's a nice girl.
You be kind to her, okay?
- She said I wasn't kind to her?
- What have you done to your hand?
Have you been fighting?
- I don't fight.
- So, what have you done then?
- Just...
went by the garage.
I was moving something and, uh,
cut myself.
Come on, Ma, tell me.
- Well, she wants it to be a surprise.
- I don't like surprises.
- No, you only like surprising others.
But you're going to like this surprise, I promise.
- Am I?
- Well, she's only doing what you wanted her to do.
- Well, I didn't ask her to do anything.
- She came by to borrow the vacuum cleaner
and I shouldn't tell you this, but...
she got a hold of the bartender from The Railroad Rest
and he went over to the garbage heap and picked up
the old jukebox and transported it over to your new home.
She wanted to surprise you with a clean house and music.
Don't tell her that I told you anything.
You promise?
You look like you could use some rest, Frank.
Maybe you should go to bed.
(knocking on door)
(Sheriff sighs)
- Hey.
- Perhaps you already heard?
- Uh, yeah. No. What?
- There was a fire at Martin's place this evening.
I mean, there was a fire at your place.
- Oh.
Did they put it out?
- There was nothing left to burn, Frank,
apart from--
- Can-- Can we come inside, Frank?
(Sheriff clears his throat)
- We think there was someone out there.
- Oh? Who?
- We think it was Bob Spencer. Sitting on the veranda.
- Why would he be there?
- Well, we can't say anything for sure until, uh, you know.
- If Bob Spencer has any relatives,
I'd like to inform them.
- No, you don't have to do that.
- Well, I'm the Middle Man so I'd like to do my job.
- Frank,
this time you're the one receiving the news.
- But you know that
Spencer and Blenda were in a relationship.
- Yeah, maybe. I mean--
- Or had been in one.
And then you and Blenda became a couple.
So, maybe he went there to, uh...
some kind of revenge.
- Uh-huh.
- Just remember, all of this is between us
until the identification is confirmed.
- What...?
You're not sure it's him?
- No, nothing's certain.
We don't even know if there were other people at the house.
- Other people?
- Yeah.
There are enough loose ends
to make a flying carpet.
And we don't want to make fools of ourselves again, do we?
- What kind of loose ends?
- Well, how the fire started, for instance.
So, we got a jerry can,
and we got a vacuum cleaner
and we got an a, uh...
- A juke box.
- A juke box connected, as far as we could see,
to a broke extension cord.
Perhaps there was something wrong
with the electrical wiring but...
we just don't know yet.
Oh, I should ask you where you were tonight
and last night?
- Am I some kind of suspect here?
I mean, my-my house just burned down?
It's, uh, it's awful.
- I have to, Frank.
In fact, I am going to ask every creature that breathes
what they were doing, what they saw,
what they heard, what they smelled,
what they dreamt last night.
What have you done to your hand?
- Cut myself on some glass.
- Well, that's not the worst thing that happened tonight.
- We're sorry, Frank, really
and if there's anything we can do, whatever it might be,
just ask us.
- Thank you. I appreciate that.
- We just take things as they come, Frank.
(train horn in distance)
Oh, uh, we are going to be bringing in some reinforcements,
some forensics officers, technicians.
We can't take this lightly
after what had happened with the girls.
We'll let you know as soon as we know anything.
(door closes)
- FRANK'S MOTHER: Frank...
what have you done?
Answer me, Frank.
(light footsteps approaching)
- Can you just give me a fucking break?
- The gas.
(chair scrapes on floor)
You smell like gas.
- Yeah, because I stopped by Steve's garage. I told you.
- Well, what if I told you that
I don't believe you?
- Why wouldn't you believe me?
- I didn't believe you before,
back then.
Just so you know.
- Back when?
- When your dad died.
It's no accident.
- But it was.
Mom.
I was just playing in the yard,
you know?
I didn't even touch the ladd- Maybe I touched it
but it wasn't...
It wasn't the fall that killed him.
It was the scythe in the grass.
- It was no accident.
I saw what I saw.
- But it was an accident.
It was, Mom.
And now I've been struck by tragedy again.
- Frank...
I don't want
to have anything more
to do with you.
- Mom?
(sniffles)
(car engine turns off)
(train horn in distance)
(heavy breaths)
(melancholy score begins)
(melancholy score fades out)
("I'm Not Here" by Ane Brun plays)
That there
That's not me
I've gone
Where I please
I've walked through walls
(boat engine rumbling)
I felt that release
I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
In a little while
I'll be gone
The moment's already passed
Yeah, it's gone
And I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
Strong
lights
And those speakers
Fireworks
and hurricanes
I'm not here
This isn't happening
I'm not here
("I'm Not Here" fades out)
("Believing" by Kristin Asbjornsen plays)
(fingers snapping in time with the music)
It was just before you found me
I was lost and lonely
Waiting
My days were all so cloudy
Nights so dark around me
Awaken
And I saw
Hardly at all how I let it go
Now I know
I won't any more
Have you ever seen the sea before?
Now, I got a feeling
I got a feeling
Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh, oh
That I can believe in
Never let it go Now that believing
Oh, oh, oh
I got a feelin'
That I can believe in
Never let it go
No, no, believing
Oh, have I counted hours
I hardly saw the colors around me
(vocalizing)
How could it be a family
I went too far, I fell so low
(vocalizing)
The door was open for me
But I couldn't go
(vocalizing)
They don't know
You waited that long
Have you ever seen the sea before?
Now I got a feelin'
(vocalizing)
That I can believe in
Never let it go, Now I'm believing
(vocalizing)
I got a feelin'
(vocalizing)
That I can believe in
Now I'm believing
I saw it your eyes, my love
An open room so long ago
Oh, meet me there
The river swell, The views clear
When you rise above
(vocalizing)
That I could believe in
Now I believe in
Oh, I got a feelin'
Love is a-comin' home I got a feelin'
So got my man That I can believe in
Never let it go, Now I'm believing
And I'll get a
(vocalizing)
Got a feelin
That I can believe in
(vocalizing)
I've got a feelin'
That I can believe in
My love never, ever knows
(vocalizing)
("Believing" fades out)