1
Robert.
Robert.
You can run
all you want, Robert.
It's a little
late for this, Robert.
The Lord is with thee.
Blessed art thou amongst women.
The fruit of thy womb, Jesus.
May God pray for us.
Now and at
the hour of our death.
Amen.
Robert.
It's not time to give up yet.
We can renew our deal
and you'll have all the fame
and fortune you've been
enjoying for the last few years.
Just look at me, Robert.
Look at me!
Come on, Robert.
I know you're not weak.
Who are you praying to?
He's not going to take you back.
We've already done one deal.
It's over.
You'll be in hell forever.
You may as well enjoy it.
Just say yes.
Just say yes.
God...
is not listening.
Robert.
Have it your way.
Wake up.
Wake up.
You realize you
committed a mortal sin here.
You could have walked away.
But...
now...
your soul...
is ours.
I can give you everything.
Fame.
Fortune.
Just...
say the words...
and it's all yours.
Hey.
- Hi.
- Paul?
- Yeah.
- I'm Nicole Adams.
- Nice to meet you.
- Me too.
So, as you can see,
once the police were done
with their investigation
I locked it up.
Everything is as it was left.
Minus the deep
freezer and the table.
Both had traces
of blood on them.
A few other household items
were taken for evidence as well.
You understand this place has
become a bit of a local legend.
The doors are all double-locked
and many of the windows
are now plexi-glassed.
Neighborhood kids have
been in here from time to time
doing Lord knows what.
Seances and such nonsense.
Hmm?
Oh. Huh, yeah.
Yeah, no, this is...
this is great.
It's, umm...
exactly what I needed.
As per the agreement
with your publisher
you're not to sell
any item in this house
nor to give tours
no photos released
without written permission
and approval beforehand.
No houseguests for more
than seven days, no pets.
You're allowed
to conduct interviews
with the associates of
the deceased Don Bradley
and any of his alleged
victims, associates, witnesses
or others
pertaining to the case.
You may film or
digitally record these
in any manner you see fit.
You don't think he did it.
I don't speculate.
I looked at the evidence.
The police were not
convinced of actually
what his role
in all this was, but
the disappearance of
the young ladies has stopped.
Mr. Bradley was found with
a box of human body parts
that were linked
to missing persons
one of them being his ex-wife.
You can draw
your own conclusions.
That's why
you're here, isn't it?
Sleep in his house...
live in his skin...
Yeah. Uhh, you know?
Get a feel for the guy...
talk to as many people
as I can...
write a book...
maybe make some money.
Oh, I almost forgot.
Your publisher had my firm
renew the license on the truck
and insure it for three
months, you now have wheels.
Wow.
The full Don Bradley experience.
Just try not to kill anyone.
Are these his sheets?
And did they clean them?
These are the mysteries
we will explore.
Travel the mind...
of a killer.
A demon.
Some say, a saint...
in a thrilling new tome
brought to you by...
Paul Bryant.
A man died here.
He lived a sad life.
But a life nonetheless.
Don Bradley.
The Fiddler of Fiddles Street.
No more.
Oh my god. I am so sorry.
I didn't think
anybody was living here.
Oh, it's...
it's all right.
Did you just buy this place?
Umm, no, I'm just...
staying here while
I'm writing a book.
About the murders?
Uhh.
Kind of, more about
Don Bradley than anything else.
Do you need any
help with any boxes?
Oh. No, it's
all right. I've got it.
- Welcome to the hood.
- Thanks.
Who's there?
Who's up there?
Listen, this is my house now.
If you've been squatting
here, you have to leave.
Hello?
Who's there?
- Hi. Thomas, right?
- Yep.
Uhh, I'm Paul.
Thanks for meeting with me.
Umm, so how exactly
did you meet Donald Bradley?
How long have
you known each other?
Beer?
Uhh, yeah, sure. Yeah.
I just want to
say, for the record
he couldn't have
done it, any of it.
The press, media...
all those damn people
made him out to be a monster.
He wasn't.
So you don't
think he was involved.
I think he got in over his head
with those freaky artsy types.
You talked to
that art dealer yet?
You don't think he
made a fortune off this?
Him and his bunch
of panty-waist fags?
Umm...
this art dealer, Mr...
Hill, James Hill, his...
whole reputation has...
gone completely downhill
from this whole affair
and the police investigation
completely cleared him.
How was he involved?
That guy's nothing but
a glorified coke-head.
And the people he
hung out with were worse.
Don was just a normal guy.
He didn't do any of that stuff.
But the evidence
clearly indicates
some kind of involvement.
How do you explain that?
I knew him.
As soon as he got
involved with that art dealer
everything changed.
Hi. Sorry to crash
your party. I'm...
I'm Jim.
Oh. Don, and this
is my friend Thomas.
Are any of these for sale?
Yeah, sure.
I'd love to, yeah.
Uhh, is there
some place we might
talk more privately?
Umm, sure.
Yeah.
He became all
withdrawn and depressed.
Well, his wife had
just left him, or...
was the victim of...
something-- we may never
really know what happened
to his wife.
Did you know her?
Susan? Yeah, I knew her.
She was from hell.
Couldn't stand to be around her.
Everything was
money, money, money.
Nothing was ever
good enough for her.
Violin?
Really?
Don, are you just
looking for things to fail at?
You know, my dad
always said to follow the money.
That art dealer made a mint.
How so?
He had about 30 paintings.
Some rock carvings.
A lot of Don's
unpublished writings.
You ever heard that old clich
there ain't no such
thing as bad publicity?
A lot of sick fucks out
there want Don's stuff now.
That guy's sitting on a fortune.
Don't touch the art, please.
Oh. Sorry. Hi,
uhh, you're James Hill?
Yes, hi.
I'm Paul. I contacted
you about the book.
- All right, yes.
- About Don Bradley.
Umm, so could you just
give me your impression on Don?
Oh.
He just had this
way about him, umm...
People loved him.
Seriously, the dude
was charmed. Umm...
What can I say?
Anything he touched,
fiddle, guitar, banjo
paintings, poetry, umm...
Just amazing.
I never met anybody like him.
And you never noticed him
being aggressive towards women?
Oh. No, no, no.
He was very shy,
very humble. Umm...
Now usually with talent
like that you'll get an ego
but no, not him, no.
And you're his agent.
You represented him in
all of his artistic endeavors?
Agent to a serial killer, yep.
You think he did it?
I don't know, uhh...
I don't see how,
I mean, how? I...
You should have seen the women
lining up to get his autograph.
He never once even asked
for a...
for a number.
He could have stacked
them up like flapjacks.
No, he wasn't like that at all.
But you were.
There's multiple
witnesses that said they saw you
approaching women
at his art showings.
I am a healthy male, and if
he's not gonna do it, I am.
Like shooting fish in a barrel.
So you don't have
any theory on how
he was involved in this
where he fit in
some sort of plan?
No, I... I mean...
It appears some of
the victims were his fans
but that's just...
that's the only connection.
Uhh, his fans, do they still
come in here to see his art?
No, no, no.
And this is all for sale, right?
Oh, sure. Yes.
And all the profits go to you.
Yes.
Do you own all of this property?
I'm the executive estate.
It's part of the contract, yes.
Oh, OK. Umm...
So about how far into
the relationship with Don did
that contract come into play.
Oh, at the very
beginning, without...
me he would not have
been brought into the public.
I'm the one that...
introduced him.
Hi.
Who is it?
Oh, uhh...
Hi.
I'm Paul. I'm a writer.
I'm writing a book about
Don Bradley. I got...
your name from the police
reports. You're Cowboy, right?
Yeah, they call me Cowboy.
Probably because of the hat.
I've got a burger
and fries for you.
Do you want to
come down and we can talk?
- Thanks.
- Yeah, no problem.
Uhh, so tell me, what happened?
Well...
it's like I said. I was...
Woke up hung-over...
cold...
you know, crying.
Just, just miserable.
You know,
that voice in your head?
- Yeah.
- That one that tells you
- what a shit you are?
- Yeah.
It was going on and on and on.
It was telling me,
how useless I was.
How the world
wouldn't miss a bum.
How the world wouldn't miss me
if I was gone.
So that voice...
that was in my head
telling me to kill myself
all of a sudden
it was out of my head.
What do you mean?
I could hear it talking to Don.
Yeah, I know it was Don, because
he came up later,
and talked to me, and--
- Hey.
- Gave me the boots off his feet.
Hello? Anybody there?
Thank you.
Yeah, there's no way
that he could have known
I was inside the building.
The next day a friend
showed up with my boots.
I'd left them by the campfire
the night before, and...
So what can you tell me about
this voice?
How would you describe it?
That voice...
It was...
pure evil.
Hello?
Is Don there?
Who is this?
Don, is he there?
Don's been dead
for years. Is this a joke?
I know, but...
is he there?
Listen, whoever
this is, this isn't funny.
I'll call the police and
have this number traced.
Don't call back.
Hello?
I'm telling you, it's haunted.
Do you have
any idea what time it is?
Hey, are you using again?
Seriously, are you using again?
I'm not... using!
OK? I know what I heard.
You heard nothing.
Some kid was screwing with you.
Jesus. Haunted?
You're a grown-ass man
now. Start acting like it.
OK, last night
I heard someone
walking around upstairs
and then today the
creepy-ass phone starts ringing
and someone asks if the damn
murderer was still living here.
And then, I heard
Don Bradley himself
down in the basement,
wrapping up somebody's head.
Well then, write about it.
Look, my firm
is footing the bill
to keep your ass in there.
Do you think
you were the first choice?
Do you know how
many other writers would
kill to have
the chance we've given you?
Now, haunted or not...
until somebody
has chopped your ass up
and stuck you in a deep-freeze
you don't call back.
Do you understand?
Huh. Yeah.
Yeah, you're right. Uhh...
I don't know.
Something about this place.
I guess I just let it get to me.
Yeah.
Well, toughen up.
And keep that phone plugged in.
Yeah.
Yeah, right.
Thanks.
I already hate this place.
What did I do?
Why did I take this job?
Because I'm not
doing anything else.
I don't have
anything better to do. Yeah.
Go to St. Louis.
Live in a haunted house.
Write a book about it.
It will be great fun.
Fun.
- Hey.
- How're you doing?
- Detective
- Yes.
Nice to meet you.
Thanks for, uhh...
coming to meet me.
No problem, though.
I don't know why we couldn't
have done this in public.
Being seen in public with you?
Are you crazy?
Are you investigating this?
Jesus.
I, uhh...
didn't think of it that way.
This is off the record.
Hand me your cellphone.
Hand me your cellphone, man.
Up against the wall.
You're serious?
All right.
Is this really necessary?
Yes, it is. OK.
OK. Sit down.
So you want to know about
the ongoing investigation?
All right. Cool.
The case is still open.
I'm not supposed
to talk about it, but
that's why I
agreed to talk to you.
You see, we haven't
worked on it in a year.
Now don't get me wrong,
people go missing all the time.
Some we never find,
most turn up, though.
But we no longer
think the killer
who did these crimes is active.
Now with you snooping around
maybe you'll scare up something.
There's a rumor that, umm...
you suspected Don
weeks before his death.
Anyway...
I just knew.
We were investigating
the disappearance of his wife.
And so we decided to stop by
and have a little talk with him.
So can you tell us the
last time you saw your wife?
Ohh, yeah, it was, what...
like six weeks ago.
It was
She got back from yoga class
and packed a couple
of her things and said
she's going to her mom's.
And this didn't surprise
you any?
No. No, no.
She'd been talking
about it for a while.
She wasn't really happy here.
Hey.
Hey, those are
for sale, if you're interested.
No. Not interested at all.
I could just feel it.
I don't know how.
So we put him
under surveillance.
Either we screwed up,
or he was on to us
because he never did anything.
We never did figure
out his connections
to any of the victims.
How he lured them here.
Why weren't there
any kind of failed attempts.
It was almost impossible.
Almost impossible...
Are there any
leads you can follow up?
You know what?
All of them.
My chief wanted
this wrapped up quick, so
we interviewed his
friends and associates.
Nothing turned up.
No connections to
any of the victims, so...
we went on to other cases.
Believe me when I say this.
There's no shortage
of evil in this world.
Evil.
Yeah. Evil.
Evil like the goddamned
devil's knocking at your door.
I'm not talking about
your petty crimes here.
I'm talking
about true wickedness.
Whatever happened
to those young women...
Hell...
we'll probably never know.
What church do you go to?
Pardon me?
I said, what church
do you attend
on a regular basis?
Who's your minister?
Huh?
- I don't--
- What denomination?
- I, I don't really attend--
- What...
do you know...
of right...
and wrong?
What does this mean?
It means, Paul, behind
the stink of cheap-ass weed
and pills you pop, you
have a whiff of evil about you.
You know, maybe it's the house.
Some people like to think houses
soak up the emotions in them.
I think this house is haunted.
- Haunted.
- Yeah.
- Really?
- Yeah.
Man, you really are crazy.
You need to lay off those drugs
and get your
soul right with God.
Things will start
making more sense then.
Yeah.
Haunted.
Oh, man.
Anyway, I've got to go.
If you need anything,
or if you find something
that you probably
thought we missed...
don't hesitate
to give me a call.
OK, thanks for, talking.
Again, lay off
those drugs, buddy.
Haunted.
- Hello.
- Boo!
Did I scare you?
I was a little frightened.
Well, it took
these three interns all day
to try to find this number.
Yeah, apparently
this number has been
in same use for
over twenty years.
God knows what
it took for them to find it.
Yeah, I guess that explains
why people have
been prank calling me.
Someone probably saw me move in.
Right. OK, well, listen.
About this interview tomorrow
it's with that damn
psychic Bernadette Sand.
Yeah, you've
probably seen her on TV.
Anyway, I had to pay her
and apparently all this
bitch cares about is money.
The cops said the
same thing about her.
Now apparently
she was going around
to all the victims' families,
offering her services.
For 500 bucks an hour.
Look, kid, I don't want
you to go easy on her.
If she can't give you
any more information
than what she's
getting out of the papers
I want you to
call her out on it, OK?
Yeah.
Great, I'll do my best.
I worked extensively
with the police and the FBI
both before and
after Mr Bradley's death.
OK. And what
was your specific
role in the investigation?
I provided
the police with my readings.
Free of charge?
Mmm, yes,
I often work with police
on investigations without...
remuneration.
Yeah, and these are
often high-profile cases
with a lot of publicity, right?
If you're...
saying that I only
do it to increase my fame...
you can count
this interview over.
I'm sorry. My editor...
told me to follow
that line of questioning. Umm...
So you are clairvoyant, right?
You have a gift to
commune with spirits.
Did you
sense anything when
you walked into the house?
When I came in...
I sensed three spirits...
in the house.
Three that are active,
three that are departed here.
Did you get any of their names?
Certainly, Susan,
Mr Bradley's late wife.
I don't know
what I was thinking.
I could have had anybody.
I could have been
Mrs. Congressman James Newbury.
Do you know
how bad he wanted me?
No.
No. No, instead,
I'm married to a retard artist
who can't make a dime
and can't even hold
a construction job down.
He killed her in the kitchen.
He hit her over the head
with a cutting board.
And then disposed of her body.
She's the
strongest presence here.
She does not like
the other ones being here.
After all, it's still her house.
The kitchen, huh?
Umm...
- What did he do with the body?
- Hmm.
That night
he put her in
the trunk of her car
and drove into
southern Missouri.
I gave everyone
this information.
I was sure somebody
would have seen him
late at night,
nice car, country road.
Crossed a bridge.
And made a left turn...
up into the wilderness.
And you'll find her body
within a hundred
yards of a dirt road
somewhere in the woods.
You know, I was watching
uhh, one of those true
detective shows the other day
where they
recreate the crime scene.
Uhh, they said...
that you can
almost always find the body
about a hundred
yards from a road
usually always downhill.
See.
That confirms my prediction.
Yes, it does.
So is there anything
you can do for these spirits?
Umm, help...
guide them to the light?
I can try.
You can try. OK.
- OK, that's great. Thank you...
- Oh.
- so much, that was wonderful.
- Oh, well, sure. Yeah. I...
you know, there's
a lot of evil in this house.
Yeah, I can read it all
in the police reports.
Oh, I'm glad that I had
a chance to cast that out.
Oh, me too. I'm gonna
feel so safe once you're gone.
Right. Well, yeah, oh, sure.
Don Bradley.
I cast you out
in the name of Jesus Christ.
Go on.
Get.
Since the murders
happened in this bedroom
let's set up here.
All right, what
we're gonna do is
is we're gonna take
the lamps and set them up.
I want you to twist
the light-bulb just enough
so that the slightest touch
is gonna get it to turn it on.
Can they harm anyone?
Well, the most
we've ever documented
is a slight touch or a nudge.
What about...
sights and sounds, you know?
Like moanings in
the dark or apparitions?
If you don't get it
on tape, it doesn't exist.
You ready to begin?
Can you get the light?
We come to you in peace.
We're only looking to help.
If there is
a spirit in this house
could you give us a signal?
Can you turn on the light?
Can we use this light
to mean "Yes"?
Just a flicker so that
we know that you understand.
What's your name?
They can only say yes or no.
Oh.
Sorry.
Are you a victim of Don Bradley?
No, no, no, no.
No, instead. Instead,
I'm married to a retard artist
who can't make a dime
and can't even hold
a construction job down.
Can you use the
other light, to signal "no"?
Are there any other
spirits in this house?
Are there other victims here?
Are you Susan Bradley?
I didn't marry you to be poor.
My father warned me not to.
Everyone said I was
throwing my life away.
And you know what?
They were right.
Did he poison you?
I'm married
to this miserable shit!
I could have had anybody.
To the spirit
that we're talking to...
did Don Bradley
cut off a part of your body?
I'm sure all of
my high school friends
are just laughing at me now.
Living in his grandmother's
house, of all places.
I just... I don't...
Are there, any
evil spirits in the house?
You realize you've
committed a mortal sin here.
You could have walked away.
But now...
your soul...
is ours.
Here's my offer.
I will make you...
a reasonably good artist
writer
and even a musician.
In return
you will provide me
with entertainment
from time to time.
Time to get to work, Donald.
Time to drag
old Susanna into the tub
for one last bath.
You know...
you have some real talent.
Here's what you're going to do.
You're going to throw a party.
Invite all your friends
the ones you have left
that Susan didn't drive away.
And...
show off your artwork.
My dead wife is in the tub!
True.
She's there now, but...
when she has bled out...
you're going to cut her
into manageable pieces...
wrap her in newspaper...
and put her in the deep-freeze.
Keep her here?
Just a temporary internment.
In a few weeks you'll take
her to her final resting place.
Some place...
suited to one of mine.
I didn't just... I don't know.
I don't think
that this is such...
Don.
Listen to me.
You want to get
through this, don't you?
I know a thing or two
about covering up lies
and disposing of evidence.
So you're going
to throw a party.
You're gonna
tell all your friends
that Susan has left,
and you're making a new start.
Everybody's gonna ask about her.
No.
They're all gonna know.
Don.
You poor fool.
Susan was
planning on leaving you.
Had been making plans
for some time now, actually.
Her few friends
all knew about it.
They won't think it
odd that she is gone.
You are going to be
the only one surprised.
This was going to be
her escape money.
Five thousand
four hundred,
and eighty-eight dollars.
Should be enough to
throw a nice party. Remember
good spirits, and good food.
What the fuck.
What a fine instrument.
It's owner came
over from Dublin
escaping the Potato Famine.
What a wonderful time that was.
When you bury her
I need you to take a few
of her personal belongings.
Clothes, toothbrush, purse...
Oh.
And I will be
needing her pinky toe.
Pinky toe?
- Why?
- Yes.
Her pinky toe.
Keep it in the freezer, hide it.
Don't worry, I'll find it.
And you'll want to take her car
to an unfortunate neighborhood
and leave the keys in it.
Understand?
Just me.
Shhh.
Can you hear that?
There's a homeless man
crying, just a few yards away.
He has woken to find
his boots were stolen.
He's thinking
about killing himself.
We sit in the shadows of casinos
full of people who
profess to be Christians
yet they walk by these
unfortunate souls every day
and do nothing.
The irony...
the hypocrisy...
the lies they tell themselves
to justify their gluttony.
So...
So you stole his boots.
Me?
Donald.
You over-estimate me.
I'm just a whisper in the ear...
the voice in
the back of your head...
the itch in your palm.
No, I just came to watch.
Is this art?
Well, there's paint.
There is paint.
Dude, great party.
I had no idea
your house was this nice.
You did a
great job fixing it up.
Yeah, still a lot
to do, but, you know...
it keeps me busy and
keeps my mind off things.
If you're thinking about
Susan, she was from hell.
You're better off without her.
Mmm.
- Oh.
- Hmm. Oh.
Sorry.
Is this, your house?
Oh yeah, this is my house.
Hmm, I love it.
I love the paintings.
- Nice.
- Hmm.
Gotta go find the bathroom.
Oh. All right, it's just
in there, to your left.
Oh.
Look how much better
your life is already.
I mean, you've got
hot chicks stumbling around.
No more harpy bitching at you.
You can hang out
with your friends
without her screaming about it.
Seriously, dude.
You're better off without her.
Hi! How are you?
Sorry to crash your party. I'm
I'm Jim.
Oh. Uhh, I'm Don,
this is my friend Thomas.
And, don't worry
about crashing, man.
You're welcome here.
This is sort of
my freedom from hell--
Thanks.
Great booze, by the way.
I've never heard of
some of those whiskeys.
Oh, yeah. Sure, yeah. Myself.
I've heard you were
an artist, and I wanted to
come and check out your work.
- Artist.
- Yeah.
You know,
I'm too proud to beg...
too scared to steal...
but, you know,
I'm doing this art thing
at least, until
my construction gig
comes off. That's
the real reason there.
Funny, yet...
Are any of these for sale?
Yeah, sure.
I'd love to, yeah.
I dabble in art, I'm
a bit of an art dealer, umm...
Is there some place
we might talk more privately?
Umm, sure. Yeah.
Like I said, I, uhh...
deal in art, umm...
mostly new, up-and-coming umm...
- avant-garde stuff.
- Uhuh.
Always looking
for the next Great.
Huh. Oh, I...
I really don't
think I'm that great. It's...
It doesn't matter.
It's what art
critics say, and uhh...
art critics say what
art dealers tell them to.
A whisper in the ear
of the right person can
build a career.
Now I had my eye
on a few of your paintings.
Uhh... Man Eating Chicken
Westward, umm...
Care to name
a price for all three?
I don't even...
I don't know. Umm...
I wouldn't know. I'm sorry--
Oh. Sorry.
I thought this was the bathroom.
Oh, umm... yeah,
you can, you can use mine.
It's just right
through the doors there.
Oh.
Hey, you've...
you've got
a party to get back to.
What if I offered
ten thousand for all three?
Yeah, all right.
Yeah, they're...
Great.
Umm...
and, uhh...
if I sell these...
I'll be back for more.
- Uhuh.
- Unless, of course...
you get too pricey for my blood.
Cheers.
I've been waiting for you.
You're mine for
the rest of the night.
Hello, Donald.
No need to whisper.
She won't wake up.
- Uhh.
- You've had your party, Donald.
Now... it's time for mine.
What did you have in mind?
Strangle her.
Do it slowly, though.
I want her to understand
she is going to die.
- Her... why?
- Why not?
What has she done?
It's not...
what she has done.
It's what...
you have done, Donald.
She's innocent.
No.
This one
is far from innocent.
She is mine.
And I have come to claim her.
Oh.
I'll need her ear.
Her ear?
Yes. Her ear.
My receipt.
You can put it in the box
with your wife's pinky toe.
Hey.
Oh, Paul.
Yeah, you're Murphy, right?
Yeah.
So I'm gonna be in your book?
Umm... yeah, maybe.
I've never
been in a book before.
I was in the paper
a few times but...
it wasn't good.
Uhh, so you...
had a credible sighting
of Don Bradley.
Yeah, back when all those
disappearances were going on
a buddy of mine...
He saw that
three-colored step-side of his
coming out of the wilderness
down there at
the Devil's Backbone.
Uhh...
Devil's Backbone, is that a bar?
No, it's a swimming
hole out on the big piney.
And uhh, did the police
ever follow up on this?
No.
Police had so many
reports coming in and...
little old ladies claiming
gopher hills were graves and...
all these girls
coming out of the woodwork
claiming to be
Don's secret lover.
They never
followed up on anything.
What exactly do you do?
Me?
Sort of a, finder of things.
Are you a bounty hunter?
Well...
someone goes missing
you don't call the police
you call me. You see...
police, they have
rules, regulations, laws.
Me, I work on
one thing at a time.
And there's still
a 50,000 dollar reward out
for recovery
of one of his bodies.
Yeah, I got you a map.
Look at that. What do you see?
- Uhh...
- Nothing.
You've got a river...
you've got rocks,
trees, and myth.
Now, Don...
he was coming up
right on this little itty-bitty
dirt road down here.
Why do you think he was there?
Well...
southern Missouri
up in the hills
it's all rock. It used
to be volcanic down here.
So you can't bury a body
up on top of the mountain.
What you've got to do
is go down along the river.
You want to get about a hundred
feet away, you don't
want a flood coming through
washing it out, you know?
Exposing the body or anything.
How do you think he did it?
Oh, I can't speak to
the abduction part, but...
if it was me...
I set out to murder someone...
I'd thump them in the head.
Hard, but not too hard.
You don't want
blood going everywhere.
Or you'd strangle them, or...
poison them, you just don't want
blood. Frozen, though...
Yeah.
No blood.
So I'd thump
them on the head and
put them in the bathtub
drain them out all night.
Yeah, if you could
handle sleeping in a
house with
a corpse in the tub...
Well, the next morning I'd just
take them down to the basement
and cut them up into pieces
wrap them into
newspaper, freeze them.
Once they're good and frozen...
take them into the woods and...
dig a nice hole.
Have you killed anyone before?
Well, if I did, they
sure won't find the body.
You, uhh...
ever been published?
Umm...
I've never, I've never tried...
Some of these are very good.
You know?
Now that your artwork
is selling...
you want to think of expanding.
I'm thinking of...
a poetry reading...
with your artwork behind.
Hmm.
Yeah. I'll be
playing the fiddle next.
Uhh, are you
good with that thing?
See for yourself.
Music touches you that much?
It...
It was, it was
my wife's favorite.
I was, I was trying
to learn it for her birthday.
I never met her.
I'll work on getting you
a poetry reading
with the artwork behind.
In the meantime,
just keep on painting and...
petting your rocks,
whatever you do, I've...
How do you get any work done
reading the
newspapers all the time?
- Look at the art.
- It's so good.
- Here you are.
- Thank you.
Quite the evening you've had.
These two.
Normally they would drug you...
and steal all the valuables.
But not tonight.
Tonight...
you wooed them.
You are a real
lady-killer, aren't you, Donald?
I am not.
But you are, Donald.
You really are.
Slip a pill in each
one of their mouths.
Give it a few minutes.
Tie them so they can
stare into each other's eyes.
- Hello.
- Hi.
Hi. I was at your
last poetry reading.
I swear I'm not a stalker.
Your artwork
is absolutely amazing.
Do you have any more upstairs?
Oh my god, no!
No! No!
You've done
good work here, Donald.
Work that anyone
would be proud of.
Eyes.
Ears.
Toes.
Fingers.
Teeth.
Very nice.
So what do you want?
Why are you here?
I'm here...
to warn you...
to prepare you...
to shine some
light in your darkness.
Today,
you're gonna dispose this body.
Tomorrow,
two police officers are going
to come visit you
here at the house.
They know nothing,
and don't suspect you.
The police have already gone by
and talked to
your late wife's friends
hoping to incriminate
you in some unsavory act.
But, alas...
her friends all told the truth.
Susan was planning on leaving.
Well...
I won't be seeing you
again for a while, Donald.
But our deal still holds.
It's truly...
been a pleasure.
Au revoir.
- Hi.
- Hi.
Umm, thank you for...
meeting me.
I'm sure this has been
a difficult time for you.
Yeah. My therapist thought
it would be a good
idea to meet with you.
She said you were
writing a book, and
thought it would be
good to have my side told.
It's been three years and...
I need to move on.
Yeah.
Well, I...
I've read everything that
you put in the police report.
I guess I'm really just
wondering if there's anything
you feel like
you need to add now.
Other than that I was
sleeping with a mass murderer.
No, I think I'm good.
So you think he did it?
Honestly,
I don't know.
I've gone back and forth on it.
What was it that...
initially attracted
to you about him?
Look at you, Mr Art Man.
Too good to work
construction any more, huh?
Hmm, yeah.
I should be back any day now.
All this painting and
writing poetry, it's...
it's so bohemian
it's killing me.
I would much rather be
back with you at the
thankless and dirty job
of swinging a hammer
and breathing asbestos.
There's beer in the fridge.
I was at your poetry reading.
The poem you did about 9/11...
it made me cry.
It was so powerful.
I got a copy of it.
I memorized it.
"These poor words
can't catch, nor begin to
beauty and arced aircraft.
Banking slightly
like turning key knives
in deep cuts
to enlarge the wounds.
These brave fanatics
fulfilled their duty
plunging themselves and others
into burning, and
smashing into towering symbols.
Sounds.
Thunderous explosions.
Later, warring falls.
Cries of thousands.
Of frightened, fleeing victims.
Wailing sirens
of would-be saviors.
Somewhere, exultant planners...
loudly call for a feast.
A dance of celebration.
Gleeful to have
struck such a mighty blow.
Surely favored by God himself.
But Jesus always said
a battle
is not won by the sword
but...
by love."
Congratulations.
I knew you two would hit it off.
Oh, look at you.
I always fall asleep before you.
I don't think I've
ever seen you sleep.
Uhh, I'll try to get to
sleep before you this time.
Is everything OK?
You always seem
really stressed at night.
It's so...
perfect.
- Donny boy, time to go to work!
- No.
I love her.
I know you do, Donald.
That's why
I want you to kill her.
No. I will never hurt her.
You will.
You just don't know how yet.
No. I'm done.
I've killed enough for you.
Don't you get it?
I built you up...
just so I could bring you down.
The deal is over.
I don't care what you do to me.
Take me to hell.
Hell is empty.
All the devils...
are here.
The way his music...
it was
just so beautiful.
You had to be there to hear him.
He could have been great.
He was smart, sexy...
Oh, look at me...
gushing on about him.
I could have
been the next victim.
But obviously you weren't.
I mean, think about it. The...
night that you guys
had that fight, when he
kicked you out of the house
maybe he was
trying to protect you.
Or maybe there was...
somebody that he knew was
trying to hurt you,
to have leverage over him.
I think you're right.
I mean, I...
I think Don was trying to
protect me from something and...
someone, maybe...
but...
who?
That's the question.
Hey, how's it going?
- Hey.
- How's the book going?
Uhh, it's...
good.
It's taken some
twists, but... it's a book.
He is so famous now
I should have gotten
his autograph when I could have.
You knew him?
No, but I just
remember seeing him around.
Do you want to come inside,
answer a couple questions?
- OK.
- Good.
Wow.
This place is amazing.
So it was just like he left it?
Uhh, yeah.
After the
investigation was done, they
just sealed it off, pretty much
left everything the way it was.
So do you want a drink?
They left all that here too.
I would love one.
All right.
So you never
actually met Don Bradley?
No.
But I remember
hearing him play some nights.
God, it was like a siren call.
A siren call.
Yeah, like in ancient times?
The siren to call
the sailors to their death.
You think he
killed anybody here?
I'm not even sure
if he did it at all.
You can't put this in your book.
But the first time
I ever touched myself
I was listening
to Don play the fiddle.
Can I see the basement?
Yeah.
Wow.
This place is
just how I pictured it.
So creepy.
Do you think he kept them
in there and tortured them?
I don't know.
I mean, that's
where I would do it.
If I tortured people.
Can I see the bedroom?
Wow.
Oh my god.
The bed is
just how I pictured it.
I've thought about
this so many times.
What, about being here with Don?
Look at the art.
You ever been tied up?
What?
You know.
Tied up, little bit of kink.
No. No, no, I've...
never been, tied...
- up.
- That's what I think happened.
I think Don was wild in bed.
Only he took it
way too far by accident.
Eighteen times?
Maybe that's what got him off.
Maybe it was their murders.
You know, it makes
for much better sex
when you know it could kill you.
What are you doing?
Living out a fantasy.
You want to join me?
Well...
what do I need to do?
Just take your
pants off and climb in.
Now what?
You could start by kissing me.
She's just gotta go.
She's gotta go.
No!
No. No. No. No.
Oh, I've dreamed
about this forever.
- Just stay away from me!
- No, he made me!
Stay away,
the police are on their way.
Grab me. Be rough.
Like that.
Choke me.
Yeah.
Yeah.
I can give you everything.
Fame.
Fortune.
For it has been given to me
and I share
with whomever I wish.
Just...
say the words...
and it's all yours.
No!
Really poor choice, Donald.
Hey.
Shit. Hey, are you OK?
Wake up. You're OK.
You're OK.
You're OK.
I know.
I know.
Seems like you
could use a little help.
Perhaps...
we can make a deal.