i guess heaven takes care of fools and scoundrels

that little frenchman beats them all.

you can talk all you like
about sherlock holmes.

that little frenchman beats 'em all.

i read it. air bubbles don't
necessarily kill a person.

those writers from the other side
get too fancy.

the best way to commit a murder-
i know, i know.

hit 'em on the head
with a blunt instrument.

well, it's true, isn't it? listen.

if i wanted to murder you tomorrow,
do you think
i'd waste my time on fancy hypodermics?

or on inee?

what's that?

inee. indian arrow poison.

oh

listen,
i'd find out if you were alone, walk in,
hit you on the head with a piece
of lead pipe or a loaded cane

what'd be the fun of that?
where's your planning?
where's your clues?

i don't want any clues.
i want to murder you.

what do i want with clues?

well, if you haven't got any clues,
where's your book?

i'm not talkin' 'bout writing books.
i'm talking about killing you!

if i was going to kill you, i wouldn't do
a dumb thing like hitting you on the head.

first of all,
i don't like the fingerprint angle.

of course, i could always wear gloves,
press your hands against the pipe

after you were dead
and make you look like a suicide.

but you wouldn't beat yourself to death.

i'd do it so it didn't look like murder.