Episode #174 - We have been touched by forces from another world--forces we do not know or understand--we know only that some fierce battle is raging and Collinwood is its battleground--and fear continues to grow as the boundaries that separate the land of the living and the land of the dead become more and more obscure.
Drawing room - But Pete, says Frank, I came out here specifically to hear that tape of the seance. I should have called you and saved you the trip, says Peter. Don't tell me you accidentally erased the tape, says Frank. No, says Peter, the tape was fine, every word of the seance was recorded. Then what went wrong? asks Frank. Peter plays the tape for him and asks him what sound he hears. Frank listens. Fire? he asks. That's right, says Peter--the voices are gone, and in their place, the crackling of flames--the sounds of fire. The camera focuses on the recorder, and we clearly hear the sound of fire.
Frank listens intently. At first I thought I'd picked up some kind of static, says Peter, but that sound is unmistakable. That's the sound of fire, all right, agrees Frank. Don't tell me I made some mistake, says Peter, like putting the mike in the fireplace. Every last word lost, laments Frank. I guess I shouldn't be too surprised, remarks Peter--any force that's powerful enough to do some of the things that have been happening around here lately would find a job like that no trouble at all. Don't you attach some special significance to the fact that it was replaced by the sound of fire? asks Frank. Indeed I do, says Peter--if only I could put all the pieces together! He sits by the fire. Frank sits in a chair. You think you'd get a life-sized portrait of Laura Collins, don't you? asks Frank. I wouldn't be surprised, says Peter--but what does it all mean?--the fires and the portraits, David's dreams about himself and his mother in the flames, those ancestor of hers that died by fire--not to mention that woman who was burned to death in Phoenix. Oh, by the way, that case is being closed today, says Frank. They finally identified the body? asks Peter. No, they've decided they have no hope of finding out who it is, says Frank, they keep insisting it has to be Laura Collins. But they can't do that! insists Peter. I know, says Frank, Lt. Riley's down in Phoenix now with records, medical tests, affidavits, proving that Laura Collins is alive and here at Collinwood. How can they close a case when it's so far from being solved? asks Peter. Of course the case can always be reopened if new evidence warrants it, says Frank, but at least this way, they can give the body a burial. They haven't buried it yet? asks Peter. No, it's been in the morgue all this time, says Frank--maybe now whoever it is can at least have a decent grave. I hope I don't have to close out this case without a solution, worries Peter. What are you talking about? asks Frank. Everywhere I turn, says Peter, I feel like I'm just on the verge of some new discovery or insight, then something like this happens. How sure are you that Laura Collins is responsible? asks Frank. Fairly sure, says Peter, but you know, maybe she has a power that she doesn't know anything about, or is in touch with a force that acts out her hostilities without her even knowing about it, or...there's a possibility that in some way or other, a way I can't even begin to explain, Laura Collins is the force herself, and acting willfully. Is that what you really think? asks Frank. I don't know WHAT I think, admits Peter--I'd just like to begin to get some results. You have, Frank assures him, results of a kind, anyway--I talked to Dr. Landis down in Boston this morning--he gave me his report on Mrs. Stoddard's condition. Carolyn enters. What have you heard about my mother? she asks anxiously. Frank rushes to her side. Just calm down, he says. What have you heard?--tell me, is she any better? Asks Carolyn. She's better, Frank says. She is? asks Carolyn, smiling, eager, does that mean I can see her?--does that mean she'll come home soon? Just hang on a second, he says, look, maybe better isn't exactly the right word--maybe slightly improved is the way I should have put it--her pulse rate and temperature are very close to normal. Can she speak, though? asks Carolyn. No, Frank says, as a matter of fact, she still isn't able to move. Can't move, can't speak, says Carolyn, shaking her head dismally. Frank apologizes to her for getting her hopes up. Please, let me go see her, begs Carolyn. What would the point be? he asks. Maybe she'd recognize me, suggests Carolyn, maybe seeing me would help her in some way. I prefer, and I'm sure Dr. Landis would agree, that to see anyone who would remind her in the remotest way of Collinwood, says Peter. But I'm her daughter! wails Carolyn. I know, says Guthrie, and I hope you'll be able to see her soon. When? presses Carolyn. I don't know that yet, says the doctor, but even knowing this much, she should improve steadily now. You sound rather sure of yourself, Pete, says Frank. No, I'm not sure, admits Guthrie, but even this slight improvement shows one very important thing--we might not have diagnosed Mrs. Stoddard's illness, but I think we've pinpointed its source. We knew that a long time ago, says Carolyn resentfully--my Aunt Laura. We don't know that specifically, says Guthrie, but we do seem to know what affects her in the most positive way--distance from Collinwood
--we know now that the source of the illness is here. Carolyn looks around nervously.
Joe comes to Collinwood, bearing papers from the cannery. Carolyn tells him Frank and Dr. Guthrie have gone for a walk around the grounds, but should be back very soon. I guess I can find them, says Joe. I don't think so, she says--you might be walking in opposite direction and never even know it. Did they say where they were going? queries Joe. No, she says, but you can wait for them here. I'd leave the papers here for him to sign except that I'm supposed to get them back to the office as soon as I can, says Joe. Then you might as well wait in the drawing room where you'll be comfortable, she suggests, and he enters the house and follows Carolyn into the drawing room. She tosses the papers on the desk and asks how he's been. OK, he says, you? Not so hot, she says. I can imagine, he says, how's your mother? Improved--but not very much, she says. I'm sorry to hear it, he says,. They still won't let me see her, says Carolyn. That must be kind of rough on you, he says. I'm used to feeling kind of bad, says Carolyn, but always before, my mother was here, I always had someone I could turn to. You remember last time, I told you we were friends, didn't I? he asks, sitting beside her at the desk. I know, she says gratefully, smiling wanly at him. Well, then? he asks. I can't do it, she says, it wouldn't be fair. What do you mean, it wouldn't be fair? he asks. I always turn to you when I need you, she says. If I'm your friend... says Joe. You really are a friend, aren't you? she asks. As a matter of fact, I don't know--try me, he suggests. It seems all I ever did was try you, she says quietly. (amusing) Why don't we start with a be nice to Carolyn Stoddard club? he suggests). She laughs. Sounds like a pretty exclusive club, she chuckles--not too many members, I'm sure. (Carolyn would be president.) Only the best types, he says. They'd have to be, she says--patient, understanding, forgiving--like you, Joe. I'm not sure I am, he admits, that's why I said try me--if there's anything I can do for you... You already have, she says--for a few minutes, I felt like I wasn't all alone. You really miss your mother, don't you? he asks. Yes, she says, but I've missed you, too, Joe--I know I don't have any right to say this, but it never occurred to me that I would want you, need you, and you wouldn't be around--that's how selfish I am. I'm here now, he says. I know, she says--and in a way, that's enough. I have to warn you, though, he says, it's strictly friendship, right? Right, she says reluctantly, and I'm grateful Joe, really grateful. She begins to cry. Take it easy, says Joe. I've been alone for so long, sobs Carolyn, it seems like so long now--I know I should stop acting like a little girl, but I can't help it. Come here, he says, taking her in his arms. I'll be all right, she assures him. He lifts her to her feet, points to his shoulder and tells her to put her head right here--it's OK, it's what you need. She does. Have a good cry, he tells her. Carolyn holds onto him. Oh, Joe! she cries.
Phoenix Police Department - Lt. Riley is in the office signing off on papers. I thought I'd never see the day, Riley says. So did I, says Lt. Costa (who will eventually play Horace Gladstone in 1970PT)--I must say I'm relieved. So am I, says Riley, I guess we'll have to settle for that. We could have kept at it until we went out of our minds, Costa agrees, but what would be the point? I'm with you there, says Riley, this case is finished, closed, over with, done. We hope, Costa says. I've never been a drinking man, says Riley, but this case very nearly converted me. It did the opposite with me, Costa, when those medical records came from back east, saying that Laura Collins was alive, even though the body in the fire checked out so completely--you want to know something? If it's about Laura Murdoch Collins, no, says Riley. No, this isn't about the REAL Mrs. Collins, Costa says, the one that's alive in Maine. You mean you consider the woman in the morgue to be the unreal Mrs. Collins? asks Riley. Exactly, the other man says, that's what I was going to tell you. Oh, come on, says Riley. It's not my preference, believe you me, says Costa, I can't help it--try as I might, I can't think of that woman in the morgue as identity unknown--I cannot believe that she is not the real Laura Collins, no matter what the proof is. I make it a policy to go as far as the evidence goes, and no further, says Riley. So do I, says Costa, only don't forget, I lived with positive proof there that that WAS Laura Collins, and I cannot let it go. Then I suggest you read this over, says Riley, handing him the report. I have, says Costa, again and again, it didn't do any good--time will take care of it. Let's hope so, says Riley--well, Lieutenant, can't say it hasn't been weird--they shake hands. Where do you think you're going? Home, says Riley, as fast as the fastest jet can take me there. But you're not through yet, insists Costa--the body hasn't been released for burial. What's that got to do with me? asks Riley. Didn't I tell you? the other man asks--you identified the body, so the morgue requires your affidavit that the body they are releasing for burial is not the same body that their records show to be Laura Collins. But you've got the whole thing right there, says Riley. Those are our records, Costa reminds him, you may be sure the morgue has its own interminable forms for you to sign. So the moment has not yet come when I can say to myself in a loud, clear voice, "I'm through with this case?" asks Riley. Not yet, I'm afraid, says Costa.
Lieutenant, I have a strange feeling, says Riley, that this case isn't really closed--it has a life of its own, a life beyond us, way beyond us--I don't think we can settle it just by putting our names on a couple of legal papers. Can't we? asks the other man--we'll see about that--come on, the morgue is right downstairs. (I think Riley is righter than he knows.)
Drawing room - I don't like to talk about it too much, Carolyn tells Joe, and Dr. Guthrie asked me not to, but I can't help it, I'm sure my Aunt Laura is responsible for everything that happened at Collinwood, including my mother's illness. Can I ask you something? queries Joe--you know how it is in this town, you hear all kinds of things... What have you heard now? she asks, resigned. This Dr. Guthrie, he's really a doctor--a psychologist, is that what he calls himself? Yes, she says, why? You hear all kinds of things, says Joe--that he's really a cop--something to do with your Aunt Laura and that woman who died in Phoenix. I wish in a way he were a cop, she says, and that he'd get some evidence against her. But he's not? asks Joe. No, she says, whatever made anyone think that? I guess it's the way he's been asking people questions, says Joe, like the time he went to Sam about the paintings. That's part of his work, she says, he's trying to track down all these unexplained things that have been happening, and those paintings were certainly a part of it. Her certainly had old Sam shook up, says Joe, poor Maggie, she had quite a rough time with him--Sam was sure he was a cop, and more than one night it took both of us to get him home from the Blue Whale. (old sot fell off the wagon and stayed off.) Yes, says Carolyn--Maggie certainly is lucky you've been around to help. You know I've been seeing Maggie, he says. Of course I know, she says. And there's no reason I shouldn't mention it when I'm talking to you, is there? he asks. She looks upset. No, she says, there's no reason why you shouldn't mention he anytime you want to--after all, we are friends, aren't we?
Are we?--it's got to be up to you, he says.
The phone rings in the Phoenix morgue, but it's a while before anyone answers--Lt. Costa--yes, he's right here, he says. He hands the phone to Riley. It's Frank Garner. Your office told me where you were, says Riley, I thought I'd give you a call and let you know what's going on out here. Calling from Collinwood's drawing room, Frank asks if the case is officially closed. Yes, we just signed the papers, Riley tells him, that releases the body for burial, and that does it. I don't know whether to feel relieved or what, says Frank, I hate to leave it unsolved. So do I, says Riley, but I prefer it this way to letting it go on indefinitely with no hope for an answer. I guess you're right, says Frank, thanks for calling. Not at all, says Riley--will you tell Mr., and Mrs. Collins? Yeah, says Frank. Riley thanks him and hangs up. To Joe, Peter and Carolyn, Frank says, "That's that--Riley says things are finished in Phoenix." You may be relieved, but I'm certainly not, says Carolyn. Now what would have been the point in dragging this case out, it couldn't possibly lead anywhere? asks Frank. It might have proven something against my Aunt Laura, says Carolyn. We're not trying to prove anything for or against anybody, Peter reminds her--we're trying to help your mother--that's our first and last goal, isn't it? I suppose so, she says. If Mrs. Collins has been implicated in that death in Phoenix, says Frank, it might have diverted all our efforts here--I think we should be glad it's over.
Maybe you're right, says Carolyn, but when are we going to prove something against her--when? (hang in there, Carolyn, could be any second now.)
The two Lieutenants walk to the morgue and Costa stands with his hands on one drawer. Read what's there, he tells Riley, who reads aloud, "Laura Murdoch Collins." They didn't change it back to identity unknown, gripes Costa. They're just as confused as the rest of us, says Riley. I wish they'd be a little more careful, says Costa, I don't like seeing that name there like that--it makes me think we're back where we started from. Don't mention it, says Riley. I wonder who the poor woman is, says Costa--there's always something sad about an unidentified grave. Wait just a minute, says Riley, stopping him from opening the drawer--I'm feeling just a little squeamish. I don't blame you, says Compton, a body that's been burned to death is not a pretty sight. He opens the drawer and looks inside. Astonishment crosses his features. Now what's the trouble? asks Riley. I don't know, says Costa, I don't understand this. You opened the wrong one, says Riley. No I didn't, insists Costa, this is the right one
--he pulls open the drawer, which has nothing at all on it. "The body's gone," says Costa.
NOTES: What happened to the body of the original Phoenix? Why did it disappear? Does this mean some new metamorphosis will take place with Laura, a larval stage of Phoenix-dom? Creepy scene, in any case. I enjoyed listening to the two Lieutenants blather about this case--and now, another mystery arises--what will Dr. Guthrie make of it?.
I think Carolyn wants Joe back as her boyfriend--not because she cares for him, mind you, but because she knows he has someone else now, and she doesn't, and that bugs her. She still has a lot of growing up to do, and she is missing her mother terribly. Good to know Liz is slightly improved. Perhaps being away from Laura's evil influence is good for her. It was good to see Joe offer Carolyn a shoulder to cry on. She needs friends, and if Joe can be her friend and she not insist on having more, he is a valuable friend indeed.
Episode #175 - Collinwood grows more and more tangled in a web of mysteries, and woven into the web are not only confusion and doubt, but terror and fear, and struggle to understand only seems only to make the web more tangled, the confusion greater, the fear more terrifying, and the mystery deeper.
Drawing room - How can that be possible? Vicki demands of Peter. That's what Frank wants to know, says the doctor. What exactly did Lt. Riley say to him? asks Vicki. Only what I told you, says Peter. There has to be a mistake, says Vicki. Not according to Riley, says Peter, they checked over and over again. Vicki sits by the fire. Things like that just don't happen! she says. It did, says Peter. But there has to be an explanation, she says. There may be an explanation, he says, but like so many other explanations, we may never know about it. Do you mean to say that the body was put there in the morgue after the fire in Mrs. Collins' apartment... begins Vicki. And Lt. Riley went with the Phoenix authorities to get the body for burial... says Peter. It was gone, finishes Vicki. That's right, says Peter, pacing--they went into the vault where the body was supposed to have been put, and it was absolutely empty. He sits beside her next to the fire. She shakes her head in disbelief.
I don't understand, says Vicki. Neither does Frank, Lt. Riley or I, says Peter. I mean of course I don't understand how that body could be missing, says Vicki, but I also don't understand why I'm so frightened. I think that's because something way out of the ordinary must have happened, says Peter. But what does it have to do with us? asks Vicki--what does it have to do with us that an unidentified woman died in that fire? A fire in Mrs. Collins' apartment, may I remind you, says Peter--I have no doubt there's a connection between what's happening at Collinwood, what happened in that apartment in Phoenix, and what happened to the body in the morgue. There is one thing that seems to connect everything, she says--fire--fire in the apartment, fire in David's dreams, fire in Sam Evans' paintings, and also the fact that Mrs. Collins ancestors died by fire. I know, he says, but fire doesn't explain that body vanishing. Still, there has to be some kind of a connection, says Vicki. And I still think there's only one way to find out, he says. You mean, another seance, she says hesitantly. That's right, he says. It's a very frightening prospect, she says. You have my promise that we'll try anything and everything else before we try a seance, he assures her. Thank you, she says--tell me, did Frank say all this about the body was to be kept a secret? He didn't say anything one way or the other, says Peter, thank heavens. Why do you say that? asks Vicki. Because there's one person I'm very eager to tell, he says. Mrs. Collins? she guesses. Mrs. Collins, he agrees.
Cottage - Burke paces behind the sofa in which Laura sits. Please, Burke, she says, I don't have an explanation. You must have, he insists--Dr. Guthrie is not ordinary doctor, he's a parapsychologist. I know that, she says. (how?) Then why can't you explain what he's doing here? demands Burke. Because it doesn't make any sense! she says. But a parapsychologist, says Burke, that means he deals with spiritual things--the occult. I'm sorry, she says, I just can't seriously discuss this subject--I can't take him seriously--and you can't, either, you know you can't. Why would they bring in a man like that? wonders Burke, and why is he so particularly interested in YOU? He sits beside her. How should I know? she asks. I know exactly what's going on here, says Burke, and his interest in you seems an awful lot like suspicion. It's completely unfounded, Laura says, and I'm sick and tired of it--you should know what it's like to have everyone against you--when you know yourself you've done absolutely nothing wrong--oh, I don't care about those people up in that house, but you--when the suspicion comes from you--she touches his chin--I don't know what to think!--what does it mean? (quite the manipulator is our bird lady) He turns away from her caress. You don't love me? she asks--you don't trust me? Maybe, he says. But you've got to trust me, she says--I need you. Yes, I need you, he says. We've got to trust each other, she insists. I know, he says. And we do, she assures him--don't we? He looks at her, uncertain. (come on, Burke, she's just using sexual manipulation, don't fall for it, think with the other head!)
Drawing room - Peter sits on the sofa. I know it's only a hunch, he says, but when have we had much more to go on? But do you really think Mrs. Collins would explain? asks Vicki, sitting next to him. I'm not sure, he says, but I'm anxious to see her reaction. Her reaction has always been one of annoyance and indifference, points out Vicki--whenever the fire or woman was mentioned. It may be that again, but it may not, he says.
What difference would it make, one way or the other? asks Vicki. I'm not sure, he says, but I have a feeling it's another piece of this puzzle, and I want to make sure that I have it. Someone knocks. Excuse me, says Vicki, Mrs. Johnson's left her keys. One moment, says Peter, rising from the sofa. What is it? she asks. If that should be Mrs. Collins, he says, would you mind not mentioning the body? Of course, says Vicki. I think I'll go for a walk, he says, I'll be back very soon. Vicki answers the door--it's Burke. I've got to see you, he insists. She closes the doors, leaving both of them outside. You know you shouldn't be here, she says. Why? he asks, Liz isn't here, and you know Roger doesn't inspire much fear and trembling in me. I can't let you in, she says. You've got to! he says. I'll come see you in town whenever you want me to! she says. I've got to see you here and now! says Burke. Peter exits the house. Hello, Devlin, now are you? he asks Doctor, says Burke coolly. I'm glad to see you realize the truth about my identity, says Peter, I understand you thought for a while I was a policeman. Apologies, says Burke. Accepted, says Peter--Vicki, I'll just be a few minutes. All right, she says. Guthrie leaves. Before you tell me to leave again, says Burke, answer one question--exactly who is that guy? Why are you so concerned? she asks. Because he has a special interest in Laura, says Burke. I don't know what you mean, says Vicki, hastily entering the house. He pursues her. Vicki, he says, stopping her, closing the doors and joining her in the drawing room. You know you don't lie to me, he says. I have already told you, says Vicki, that Dr. Guthrie is doing everything he can to find out what happened to Mrs. Stoddard. And he suspects Laura, doesn't he? asks Burke. What makes you think that? asks Vicki. Because he's so interested in her, says Burke--if you know anything, you must tell me. Why? asks Vicki. I've got to know if I can trust her! says Burke. That is for you to decide, she says. He rubs he forehead and asks, "Let me put it this way--do YOU trust her?" She doesn't reply, but sits down, not facing him. I know you suspect she had something to do with what happened to Liz, says Burke--now tell me why. I can't, says Vicki. Look, he says, sitting beside her, out of your friendship for me, you've got to tell me--why do you suspect her of hurting Liz?--please, Vicki, please tell me! All right, she says, but there's so much to explain--anyway, you probably won't believe me. If you tell me, I'll believe you, he says. Well, she says, the spirit of Josette Collins has been trying to tell me something--twice now, she's led me to a cemetery and a crypt where two of Mrs. Collins' ancestors are buried and--they both have the same name as her--Laura Murdoch--and then a last name--and they both died the same way that woman in Phoenix died--in fire. What does that mean? asks Burke. I'm not sure, says Vicki, but it must mean something, or Josette wouldn't have had me discover it. What does all this have to do with Laura hurting Liz? asks Burke. I wish I knew, says Vicki, but don't forget that she lied about being the last person to see Mrs. Stoddard before she got sick. Well, says Burke, what does that prove? You asked me whether or not I trusted Mrs. Collins, says Vicki, rising and walking away from him, well I don't at all and I'm afraid of her--but there was that fire on David's dreams and the fire in Sam Evans' paintings, and the fact that those ancestors of hers died in fire--it all means something. But what? asks Burke. If I knew, says Vicki, I might not be afraid of her, but I don't know--and just a little while ago...we got a call from Phoenix, about the body burned in the fire in her apartment--it's gone, disappeared--nobody can explain anything about it, nobody knows anything at all--but it had something to do with Mrs. Collins--do you understand why I don't trust her?--is it so wrong that I'm afraid of her?--tell me, am I so wrong?
--am I? Hearing the passion in her voice, Burke considers what she's said.
Laura sits by the fire, a book lying, unread, in her lap. Birds chirp outside as Peter knocks at her door. Please go away, says Laura, but Peter continues to knock persistently, and she finally answers. I hope I'm not disturbing you, he says. As a matter of fact, she says, I was resting. I'm sorry, he says--I wonder if I might speak to you for just a moment. I'm awfully tired, she says. It's awfully important, he says. I doubt that, she says--if you'll excuse... We had some news a little while ago, he says, from Phoenix. Oh? she asks--in that case, I'm sure it's not important--you should know by now that anything that happens in Phoenix has nothing to do with me. (annoyance and indifference, as Vicki predicted.) I didn't mean that it had anything to do with you specifically, he amends. Which means it could not possibly interest me, she says, so if you don't mind... she starts to close the door in his face, adding, "Excuse me." He barges in a bit and says I can't blame you--we've been under quite a strain, all of us. A strain which, I might add, you've done nothing to alleviate, she says. And you, I suppose, have done nothing to increase? He asks. I am becoming accustomed to your accusations and insinuations, she says--but I am becoming no less annoyed by them, so if you don't mind... They decided to bury that woman who died in the fire, he says, ignoring her broad hints. Something they should have done long ago, she says. I'm sure they would agree with you, he says--you see, when they went to the vault to find the body, it was gone. Gone? she asks, genuinely shocked. She wanders back into the cottage, and Peter follows. No, that's terrible, says Laura, recovering her wits as she sits before the fire--of course, it was a mistake--and not their first, I might add. They were completely mystified, he says, closing the door behind them. Their usual disguise for stupidity, she points out. Peter sits on the edge of the sofa--you seem rather upset by it, he observes. By what? she asks, their stupidity and incompetence? No, he says, by the fact that the body was gone. Of course, it is a little shocking at first, she says, until one realizes they just made another of their mistakes. Isn't it strange? he says. No, it isn't strange or unusual, she says. No, I don't mean about the mistake, he says--if it was a mistake. What do you mean, then? she asks. That it should mean so much to you, he says. It means nothing to me, she insists. Are you sure? he asks. No more than the initial fact that someone that I don't know and don't care about died in my apartment, she replies. That's not the impression I had a minute ago, he says. I think it's time we admitted, Doctor, that you are a very impressionable man, she retorts. Oh yes, I admit that, he says, but I also admit the validity of my impressions. An admission that I hardly could agree with, she says--well, if you'll excuse me... She rises to her feet. What does it mean? he asks her. What? she asks. The fact that the body is gone, he persists. I told you, she says. It means something very special, doesn't it? he asks--it doesn't mean another mistake, it means something very different. Well, she says, arms crossed over her chest, I'm not interested. I think you're very interested, he insists, and I think you know why--and I would like you to tell me what it is. I have been as polite as I intend to be, she says. Forget being polite, he says, I'm not particularly polite, either--but you know something you're not telling me. All right, she says, I'll tell you--go away and leave me alone. What do you know about that body being gone? he persists. I'm warning you, she says, I want to be left alone--I'm tired of your questions and accusations. I haven't accused you of anything, he points out. And I'm not going to warn you anymore, she says. Warn me? he asks--about what? Nothing, she says. You sound as though you're threatening me, he says--exactly what are you threatening to do? Are you going to leave me alone? she asks again. No, I don't think I am, he tells her--now what do you do?
Don't say I didn't warn you, she says. I won't, he promises--now what, Mrs. Collins?
I'm waiting, says Peter, you warned me of something--what is it? I suggest you go back to the house, she says. Oh? he asks--and then? Just go back to the house, she advises. And if I don't go? he asks. Burke knocks at the door, ordering Laura to open up. Aren't you going to answer my question? Peter demands. Laura, says Burke, why don't you open the...he lets himself in and spots Peter. What's he doing here? asks Burke. As a matter of fact, he's annoying me, complains Laura. Just a few routine questions, says Peter, for which I can't seem to get an answer. Burke, would you please ask him to leave? says Laura. I guess we can continue another time, says Peter. And tell him to stay away from me, orders Laura. Don't bother, Devlin, says Peter, I couldn't oblige--and he leaves the cottage. Burke surveys Laura, who watches out the window as Guthrie walks away. I don't know what I'm going to do, she says, when are people going to leave me alone? Maybe when you do start giving a few simple, straight answers, suggests Burke. Is that why you came back--to upset me more? She asks. Why does it upset you to explain a few simple facts? he asks. I can't talk about it now! she says, opening her door and looking out. I understand you lied about having seen Liz before she got sick, he says. I just can't stand anymore of this, she says. Why did you lie? he asks. I haven't done anything to anyone, she insists--it wasn't important, it wasn't important at the time, please leave me alone! Aren't you even going to try to explain? he asks. I can't, she says--I can't explain something that no one can--you can ask me all the questions you want to, but I can't give you a better anymore than that. I want to believe you, he says, as she continues to watch into the distance. Please Burke, she says, I beg of you, I just can't talk about it now--please leave--come back later. You can tell me, he says--did you do anything to Liz? You've just got to leave me alone, she insists.
OK, he says, but in the meantime, why don't you try to think of some straight, simple answers? I will, I promise you, she says, you know I'll do anything you want--just please leave me alone now! All right, he agrees, and leaves. She goes back inside the cottage and sits by the leaping fire.
Peter returns to Collinwood and removes his coat. He hangs it up.
We see Laura's eyes, huge, staring.
Peter enters the drawing room, calling Vicki. He suddenly seems to feel faint, and slowly walks into the drawing room and removes his glasses. Vicki! he calls.
He stumbles and grabs hold of the mantle, then falls to the floor in front of the fireplace, unconscious.
NOTES: What has Laura done to Peter Guthrie? Is he, too, paralyzed, unable to speak or move? Will she be forced to do the same thing to everyone at Collinwood in order to make sure she gets David?
I loved the back and forth battle between Peter and Laura, but damn, it was like watching him hitting a hornets' nest sitting right above his head with a stick! He was bound to get stung! Still, I sensed it was what he wanted to do, to finally draw him out into the open. Knowing what she did to Liz, though, why didn't he get himself some sort of talisman or other protection? Then again, I guess he has no idea what she is, just that she is probably responsible for what happened to Liz. He knows first-hand, now, poor guy. He so relentlessly grilled Laura--you've got to admire his cojones.
Burke isn't the type to let a woman like Laura do what she's doing to him, but he really is her puppet, dancing to her every tune, even if it doesn't make sense to him. What Vicki told him made a lot more sense, and he realizes Laura is surrounded by unsolved mysteries. He wants answers, but she's able to send him away every time, just by being herself.
I fear Vicki and the others might have to figure out Laura's secret without Dr. Guthrie. I guess we'll find out soon enough.
Love, Robin
