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Psycho - Collectors Edition

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Edited and synchronized by Mesut3000|
You never did eat your lunch,|did you?
I better get back to the office.|These extended lunch hours...
give my boss excess acid.
Why don't you call your boss|and tell him...
you're taking the rest|of the afternoon off?
It's Friday anyway,|and hot.
What do I do with my free afternoon?|Walk you to the airport?
Well, we could laze|around here a while longer.
Checking-out time is 3:00 p.m.
Hotels of this sort aren't|interested in you when you come in...
but when your time is up...
Oh, Sam, I hate having to be with you|in a place like this.
I've heard of married couples who|deliberately spend a night...
in a cheap hotel.
When you're married you can do|a lot of things deliberately.
You sure talk like|a girl who's been married.
Oh, Sam, this is|the last time.
- Yeah? For what?|- For this.
For meeting you in secret|so we can be secretive.
You come down here|on business trips,
and we steal lunch hours.
I wish you|wouldn't even come.
What do we do instead?|Write each other lurid love letters?
Oh, I have to go, Sam.
- I can come down next week.|- No.
Not even just to see you?|Have lunch in public?
Oh, we can see each other.|We can even have dinner.
But respectably.
In my house with my mother's|picture on the mantel and...
my sister helping me broil|a big steak for three.
And after the steak, do we|send sister to the movies...
turn Mama's picture to the wall?
All right.
Marion, whenever it's possible,|I want to see you.
And under any circumstances,|even respectability.
You make respectability|sound disrespectful.
I'm all for it. It requires patience,|temperance, a lot of sweating out.
Otherwise, though,|it's just hard work.
But if I can see you and touch you|even as simply as this, I won't mind it.
I'm tired of sweating|for people who aren't there.
I sweat to pay off my father's|debts, and he's in his grave.
I sweat to pay my ex-wife alimony,|and she's living...
on the other side of the world.
I pay too.
They also pay|who meet in hotel rooms.
A couple of years and|my debts will be paid off.
If she ever remarries,|the alimony stops.
- I haven't even been married once yet.|- But when you do, you'll swing.
Oh, Sam, let's get married.
And live with me in a storeroom|behind a hardware store in Fairvale?
We'll have lots of laughs.|I'll tell you what.
When I send my ex-wife her alimony,|you can lick the stamps.
I'll lick the stamps.
You want to cut this off, go out|and find yourself somebody available?
I'm thinking of it.
How could you even|think a thing like that?
- Don't miss your plane.|- We can leave together, can't we?
Mm-mm. I'm late and, uh,|you have to put your shoes on.
Isn't Mr. Lowery|back from lunch?
He's lunching with the man who's|buying the Harris Street property.
The old lease man. That's why|he's late. You got a headache?
It'll pass.|Headaches are like resolutions...
you forget them|as soon as they stop hurting.
Have you got some aspirin?|I've got something, not aspirin.
My mother's doctor gave them to me|the day of my wedding.
Teddy was furious when he found out|I'd taken tranquilizers.
Any calls?
Teddy called me. My mother|called to see if Teddy called.
Oh, your sister called to say she's|going to Tucson to do some buying...
and she'll be gone the whole weekend...
Wow. It's as hot|as fresh milk.
Hey, you girls oughta get your boss|to air condition ya up.
He can afford it today.
Marion, will you get the copies|of that deed ready for Mr. Cassidy?
- Yes, sir.|- Tomorrow's the day, my little girl.
Oh...Oh, not you.|My daughter.
A baby.
Tomorrow she stands her sweet self|up there and gets married away from me.
I want you to take a look at my baby.
Eighteen years old...
and she never had an unhappy day|in any one of those years.
Come on, Tom.|My office is air conditioned.
Do you know what I do|about unhappiness?
I buy it off.
Are, uh...|Are you unhappy?
Uh, not inordinately.
I'm buying this house|for my baby's wedding present.
Forty thousand|dollars cash.
Now that's...|that's not buying happiness.
That's just buying off unhappiness.
I never carry more than|I can afford to lose.
- Count 'em!|- I declare!
I don't. That's how|I get to keep it.
Tom, a cash transaction|of this size is most irregular.
Ah, so what?|It's my private money.
- Now it's yours.|- Suppose we put it in the safe,
and then Monday morning|when you're feeling good...
Oh, speaking of feeling good, where's|that bottle you said was in your desk?
You know, uh, sometimes|I can keep my mouth shut.
Lowery, I am dying|of "thirst-aroonie."
I don't even want it in|the office over the weekend.
Put it in the safe deposit box in the|bank, and we'll get a check on Monday.
He was flirting with you. I guess|he must've noticed my wedding ring.
Come in.
The copies. If you don't mind,|I'd like to go home after the bank.
- I have a slight...|- You go right on home.
Because me and your boss are goin'out|and get ourselves...
a little drinkin'done, right?
- Of course. Do you feel ill?|- Just a headache.
What you need is a weekend in Las Vegas,|the playground of the world.
I'm going to spend this weekend|in bed. Thank you.
Aren't you going to take the pills?|They'll knock that headache out.
Can't buy off unhappiness|with pills.
I guess I'll go put this money in the|bank and then go home and sleep it off.
Marion, what in the world...|What are you doing up here?
Of course I'm glad to see you.|I always am.
What is it, Marion?
Uh, hold it there.
In quite a hurry.
I didn't intend to sleep so long. I|almost had an accident from sleepiness.
- So, I decided to pull over.|- You slept here all night?
Yes. As I said,|I couldn't keep my eyes open.
There are plenty of motels|in this area. You should've...
I mean, just to be safe.
I didn't intend to sleep all night.|I just pulled over.
Have I broken any laws?
- No, ma'am.|- Then I'm free to go?
Is anything wrong?
Of course not. Am I acting|as if there's something wrong?
- Frankly, yes.|- Please, I'd like to go.
- Well, is there?|- Is there what?
I've told you there's nothing wrong,|except I'm in a hurry...
and you're taking up my time.
Now, just a moment.
Turn your motor off, please.
May I see your license?
- Why?|- Please.
Be with you in a second!
- I'm in no mood for trouble.|- What?
There's an old saying: "First customer|of the day is always the most trouble."
But I'm in no mood for it,
so I'm gonna treat you so fair|you won't have one reason...
- Can I trade my car and take another?|- Do anything you have a mind to.
Bein'a woman, you will.|That yours?
Yes, it's, it's...There's|nothing wrong with it. I just...
Sick of the sight of it.
Have a look around and see if there's|something that strikes your eyes,
and I'll have my mechanic|give yours the once-over.
- You want some coffee?|- No, thank you. I'm in a hurry...
and just wanna make a change.
One thing people never oughta be|when they're buyin'used cars...
and that's in a hurry, but like I said,|it's too nice a day to argue.
I'll shoot your car|in the garage here.
That's the one I'd have|picked for you myself.
- How much?|- Go ahead.
- Spin it around the block.|- It looks fine.
How much would it be|with my car?
You mean you don't want the usual day|and a half to think it over?
You are in a hurry, aren't you?|Somebody chasin'ya?
Of course not.|Please.
Well, it's the first time the customer|ever high pressured the salesman.
Ah, I figure roughly...
your car plus $700.
- Seven hundred.|- You always got time to argue money.
All right.
I take it you can prove|that car is yours.
I mean, out-of-state license.|You got your pink slip...
I believe I have the necessary papers.|Is there a ladies room?
In the building.
Over there.
I think you better take it|for a trial spin.
I don't want any bad word of mouth|about California Charlie.
I'd really rather not.|Can't we just settle this...
I might as well be perfectly honest with|you. It's not that I don't trust you...
But what? Is there|anything so terribly wrong...
about making a decision|and wanting to hurry?
- Do you think I've stolen my car?|- No, ma'am.
All right,|let's go inside.
Just put it in here, please.
Thank you.
Heck, Officer,|that was the first time...
I saw the customer|high pressure the salesman.
Somebody chasin'her?
I better have a look|at those papers, Charlie.
- She look like a wrong one to you?|- Acted like one.
The only funny thing,|she paid me $700 in cash.
Yes, Mr. Lowery.
Caroline. Marion still isn't in?
No, Mr. Lowery, but then she's always|a bit late on Monday mornings.
Buzz me the minute|she comes in.
And call her sister.|No one's answering at the house.
I called her sister where she works...|The Music Makers Music Store...
and she doesn't know where Marion|is any more than we do.
You better run out to the house. She may|be, well, unable to answer the phone.
Her sister's going to do that.|She's as worried as we are.
No, I haven't the faintest idea.
As I said, I last saw your sister|when she left this office on Friday.
She said she didn't feel well and wanted|to leave early, and I said she could.
That was the last I saw...|Oh, wait a minute.
I did see her|some time later driving...
Uh, I think you'd better come|over here to my office, quick.
Caroline,|get Mr. Cassidy for me.
After all, Cassidy,|I told you, all that cash!
I'm not taking|the responsibility.
Oh, for heaven's sake. A girl works|for you for ten years, you trust her.
All right, yes,|you better come over.
Well, I ain't about|to kiss off $40,000!
I'll get it back, and if any of it's|missin', I'll replace it...
with her fine, soft flesh!
- We'll track her, never you doubt it.|- Hold on, Cassidy.
I still can't believe...It must be|some kind of a mystery. l, I can't...
You checked with the bank, no?|They never laid eyes on her, no?
You still trustin'? Hot creepers!|She sat there while I dumped it out!
Hardly even looked at it. Plannin'.|And, and even flirtin'with me!
Gee, I'm sorry I didn't hear you|in all this rain. Go ahead in, please.
- Dirty night.|- Do you have a vacancy?
Oh, we have 12 vacancies.|12 cabins, 12 vacancies.
They, uh...They moved|away the highway.
Oh, I thought I'd gotten|off the main road.
I knew you must have. Nobody ever stops|here anymore unless they've done that.
But...there's no sense|dwelling on our losses.
We just keep on lighting the lights|and following the formalities.
Your home address.|Oh, just the town will do.
Los Angeles.
Cabin one. It's closer in case you want|anything. It's right next to the office.
I want sleep more than anything else,|except maybe food.
There's a big diner about ten miles|up the road, just outside of Fairvale.
- Am I that close to Fairvale?|- Fifteen miles. I'll get your bags.
Boy, it's stuffy in here.
Well, the, uh, mattress|is soft and...
there's hangers in the closet|and stationery...
with "Bates Motel"|printed on it...
in case you wanna make your|friends back home feel envious.
And the, uh...
- Over there.|- The bathroom.
Well, uh, i-i-if you want anything,|just...just tap on the wall.
- I'll be in the office.|- Thank you, Mr. Bates.
Norman Bates.
You're not really gonna go out again|and drive up to the diner, are you?
- No.|- Then would you do me a favor?
Would you have dinner with me?
I was just about to myself. Nothing|special...just sandwiches and milk.
But I'd like it very much|if you'd come up to the house.
I don't set a fancy table,|but the kitchen's awful homey.
- I'd like to.|- All right.
You get yourself settled and,|and take off your wet shoes.
- I'll be back as soon as it's ready.|- Okay.
With my...With my trusty umbrella.
No! I tell you no!
I won't have you bringing strange|young girls in for supper!
By candlelight, I suppose,|in the cheap, erotic fashion...
- Of young men with cheap, erotic minds!|- Mother, please.
And then what, after supper?|Music? Whispers?
Mother, she's just a stranger.|She's hungry and it's raining out.
"Mother, she's just a stranger." As if|men don't desire strangers. As if...
Oh! I refuse to speak of disgusting|things, because they disgust me!
Do you understand, boy?|Go on.
Go tell her she'll not be|appeasing her ugly appetite...
with my food or my son!
Or do I have to tell her|'cause you don't have the guts?
- Huh, boy? You have the guts, boy?|- Shut up! Shut up!
- I've caused you some trouble.|- No, uh...
Mother...|My mother, uh...
What is the phrase?
She isn't quite|herself today.
You shouldn't have bothered. I really|don't have that much of an appetite.
Oh, I'm sorry.
I wish you could apologize|for other people.
Don't worry about it.
But as long as you've fixed|the supper, we may as well eat it.
It, uh...It might be, uh, nicer|and warmer in the office.
Well, it stopped|raining.
Uh, eating in an office|is just...just too officious.
- I have the parlor back here.|- All right.
- Sit down.|- Oh, thank you.
You're very kind.
It's all for you.|I'm not hungry. Go ahead.
You...You eat like a bird.
And you'd know,|of course.
No, not really.
Anyway, I hear the expression|"Eats like a bird"...
is really a fal...|false...falsity.
Because birds really|eat a tremendous lot.
But I really don't know anything about|birds. My hobby is stuffing things.
You know, taxidermy.
And I guess I'd just rather|stuff birds because...
I hate the look of beasts|when they're stuffed.
You know,|foxes and chimps.
Some people even stuff dogs and cats,|but, oh, I can't do that.
I think only birds|look well stuffed because...
Well, because they're kind|of passive to begin with.
It's a strange hobby.|Curious.
- Uncommon too.|- Oh, I imagine so.
And it''s not as expensive|as you'd think. It's cheap, really.
You know, needles|and thread, sawdust.
The chemicals are the only|thing that, that cost anything.
A man should have a hobby.
Well, it's...|it's more than a hobby.
A hobby's supposed to|pass the time, not fill it.
Is your time so empty?
No. Uh...
Well, I run the office...
and tend the cabins|and grounds...
and do little, uh,|errands for my mother...
the ones she allows|I might be capable of doing.
Do you go out with friends?
Well, a boy's best friend|is his mother.
You've never had an empty moment|in your entire life, have you?
- Only my share.|- Where are you going?
I didn't mean to pry.
I'm looking for|a private island.
What are you|running away from?
- Why do you ask that?|- No.
People never run away|from anything.
The rain didn't last long,|did it? You know what I think?
I think that...
we're all in|our private traps,
clamped in them, and none of us|can ever get out.
We scratch and...|and claw,
but only at the air,|only at each other.
And for all of it,|we never budge an inch.
Sometimes we deliberately|step into those traps.
I was born in mine.|I don't mind it anymore.
Oh, but you should.|You should mind it.
Oh, I do, but I say I don't.
You know, if anyone ever talked|to me the way I heard...
the way she spoke to you...
Sometimes when she talks|to me like that,
I feel I'd like to go up there and|curse her and, and leave her forever.
Or at least defy her.
But I know I can't.|She's ill.
She sounded strong.
No, I mean...ill.
She had to raise me all by herself,|after my father died.
I was only five and it,|it must've been quite a strain for her.
I mean, she didn't have to go to work or|anything. He left her a little money.
Anyway, a few years ago,|Mother met this man.
And he...he talked her|into building this motel.
He could have talked her|into anything.
And when he died too, it was|just too great a shock for her.
And the way|he died...
I guess it's nothing to talk about|while you're eating.
Anyway, it was just too great|a loss for her. She had nothing left.
Except you.
Well, a son is a poor substitute|for a lover.
Why don't you go away?
To a private island,|like you?
No...not like me.
I couldn't do that.|Who'd look after her?
She'd be alone up there.
The fire would go out.
It'd be cold and damp|like a grave.
If you love someone, you don't do that|to them, even if you hate them.
You understand, l...|I don't hate her.
I hate what she's become.|I hate the illness.
Wouldn't it be better|if you put her...some place?
You mean an institution?|A madhouse?
People always call a madhouse|"some place," don't they?
Put her in "some place."
I'm sorry. I didn't mean it|to sound uncaring.
What do you know|about caring?
Have you ever seen the inside|of one of those places?
The laughing and the tears...
and the cruel eyes|studying you.
My mother there?
But she's harmless.
She's as harmless as one|of those stuffed birds.
I am sorry.
I only felt...|It seems she's hurting you.
- I meant well.|- People always mean well.
They cluck their thick tongues|and shake their heads and suggest...
oh, so very delicately...
Of course,|I've suggested it myself.
But I hate to even think about it.|She needs me.
It...It's not as if she were|a...a maniac, a raving thing.
She just goes|a little mad sometimes.
We all go a little mad|sometimes.
Haven't you?
Sometimes just one time|can be enough. Thank you.
Thank you, "Norman."
Oh, you're're not|going back to your room already?
I'm very tired.
And I have a long drive tomorrow,|all the way back to Phoenix.
I stepped into a private trap|back there...
and I'd like to go back and try|to pull myself out of it...
before it's too late|for me too.
Are you sure you wouldn't like|to stay a little while longer?
- I mean, just for talk.|- Oh, I'd like to, but...
All right. Well,|I'll see you in the morning.
I'll bring you some breakfast,|all right?
- What time?|- Very early. Dawn.
All right, Miss, uh...
- Crane.|- Crane. That's it.
Good night.
Ow! No!
No! Aaah!
Mother! Oh, God, Mother!
Blood! Blood!
I've tried many brands.
So far, of those I've used, I haven't|had much luck with any of them.
Let's see what they say|about this one.
They tell you|what its ingredients are...
and how it's guaranteed to exterminate|every insect in the world,
but they do not tell you|whether it's painless.
And I say, insect or man,|death should always be painless.
This one seems to claim more and better|qualities than lots of the others.
Sam!|Lady wants to see ya.
- Yes, miss?|- I'm Marion's sister.
- Oh, sure. Lila.|- Is Marion here?
- Well, of course not. Something wrong?|- Thank you.
She left home on Friday.
I was in Tucson over the weekend|and I haven't heard from her since.
Not even a phone call.
If you two are in this together,|it's none of my business,
but I want Marion to tell me it's none|of my business and then I'll go...
Bob, run out and get yourself|some lunch, will ya?
- That's okay. I brought it with me.|- Run out and eat it.
Now, what thing|could we be in together?
Sorry about the tears.
Well, is Marion in trouble?|What is it?
Let's all talk about|Marion, shall we?
Who are you, friend?
My name is Arbogast, friend.
I'm a private investigator.
- Where is she, Miss Crane?|- I don't know you.
I know you don't, because if you did|I wouldn't be able to follow you.
What's your interest|in this?
Well, $40,000.
- $40,000?|- That's right.
One of you'd better tell me what's going|on, and fast. I can take so much...
Now, take it easy,|friend.
It's just that your girlfriend|stole $40,000.
What are you talking about?|What is this?
She was supposed to bank it on Friday|for her boss, and she didn't.
- No one has seen her since.|- Someone has seen her.
Someone always sees a girl|with $40,000.
They don't want to prosecute,|they just want the money back.
- Sam, if she's here...|- She isn't. She isn't.
Miss Crane, can I ask you, did you come|up here on a hunch and nothing more?
Oh, not even a hunch.|Just hope.
Well, with a little checking|I could get to believe you.
I don't care|if you believe me or not.
All I want to do is see Marion|before she gets in this too deeply.
Did you check Phoenix?|Maybe she had an accident, or a holdup.
No, she was seen leaving town in her|own her employer, I might add.
I can't believe it.|Can you?
We're always quickest|to doubt people...
who have a reputation|for being honest.
I think she's here,|Miss Crane.
Where there's|a boyfriend...
She's not back there with the nuts and|bolts, but she's in this town somewhere.
I'll find her.|I'll be seeing you.
- Evening.|- Evening.
I almost drove|right past.
I'm always forgetting to turn|the sign on, but we do have a vacancy.
Twelve, in fact.|Twelve cabins, twelve vacancies.
- Candy?|- No, thanks.
Last two days I've been to so many|motels my eyes are bleary with neon,
but this is the first place that looks|like it's hiding from the world.
To tell the truth, I didn't|really forget to turn the sign on.
-Just doesn't seem like any use anymore.|-Oh?
See, that used to be|the main highway right there.
- Wanna register?|- Sit down. I don't wanna trouble you.
- I just wanna ask a few questions.|- No trouble. Today's linen day.
I always change the beds once a week|whether they've been used or not.
Hate the smell of dampness. It's such a,|I don't know...creepy smell.
You out to buy a motel?
Reason I ask, you said you'd seen|so many the past couple of days,
I thought maybe...
What, uh...What was it|you wanted to ask?
I'm looking for|a missing person.
My name's Arbogast.|I'm a private investigator.
I've been trying|to trace a girl...
that's been missing for,|oh, about a week now from Phoenix.
It's a private matter.|The family wants to forgive her.
She's not|in any trouble.
I didn't think the police went looking|for people who aren't in trouble.
- I'm not the police.|- Oh, yeah.
We have reason to believe she came|along this way. Did she stop here?
No one's stopped here|for a couple of weeks.
Mind looking at the picture|before committing yourself?
Commit myself?
- You sure talk like a policeman.|- Look at the picture, please.
- Mm-mmm. Yeah.|- Sure?
Well, she may have|used an alias.
Marion Crane's|her real name,
but she could've registered|under a different one.
I tell ya, I don't even much bother|with guests registering anymore.
One by one,|you drop the formalities.
I shouldn't even bother changing|the sheets, but old habits die hard.
Which reminds me...
- What's that?|- The sign.
A couple last week said|if the thing hadn't been on,
they would've thought|this was an old, deserted...
You see,|that's exactly my point.
Nobody'd been here|for a couple weeks,
and there's a couple came by|and didn't know that you were open.
As you say,|old habits die hard.
This girl could've registered|under another name. Mind if I look?
- No.|- Thank you.
All right.
I'll get the date|somewhere. Mm-hmm.
See, there's nobody.
Let's see, I have a sample|of her handwriting here.
Oh, yes.
Here we are.
- Marie Samuels.|- Hmm.
That's an interesting alias.
- Is that her?|- Yeah, I think so.
Marie, Marion.
- Samuels. Her boyfriend's name is Sam.|- Mm-hmm.
Mm-hmm. Was she|in disguise, by any chance?
- Wanna check the picture again?|- I wasn't lying to you.
Oh, I know that.|I know you wouldn't lie.
It's tough keeping track|of the time around here.
I know.
Oh, yeah.
Well, i-i-it was raining|and, um, her hair was all wet.
I tell ya, it's not really|a very good picture of her.
No, I guess not.
Tell me all about her.
Well, um,
she arrived, um, rather late|one night, went straight to sleep...
and, uh, left early|the next morning.
- How early?|- Oh, ex...very early.
Mm-hmm.|Which morning was that?
Uh, the, um...
Th-Th-Th-The next morning.
- Sunday.|- I see. Mm-hmm.
- Did anyone meet her here?|- No.
- Did she arrive with anyone?|- No.
- Did she make any phone calls or...|- No.
- Locally?|- Uh-uh.
- Did you spend the night with her?|- No.
Then how would you know|she didn't make any calls?
Uh, w-w...
Well, she was very tired|a-and, uh...
See, l...N-Now I'm staring|to, um...remember.
l-I'm making a mental picture|of it in my mind.
- If you make a mental picturization...|- Right. Take your time.
Um, she was...|she was sitting back there...
N-No, she was standing back there|with a sandwich in her hand.
She said she had to|go to sleep early...
because she had a long d-d-dr-drive,|uh, ahead of her.
- Mm-hmm. Back where?|- Back where she came from.
No, you said before she|was standing back there...
Yes, b-back in my parlor.
She was very hungry,|I made her a sandwich...
and then she said she was tired and|she, uh, um, had to go r-right to bed.
I see.|How did she pay you?
- Cash? Check?|- Cash.
Cash, huh?|Mm-hmm.
- After she left, she didn't come back?|- Uh-uh. Why should she?
Well, M-Mr. Arbogast, uh,|I guess that's about it.
l-I've got some work to do,|if you don't mind.
To tell you the truth,|I do mind.
See, if it doesn't jell,|it isn't aspic, and this ain't jelling.
It's not coming together.|Something's missing.
Well, l-l-I don't know|what you c-could expect me to know.
People just come and go,|you know.
That's right.|She isn't still here, is she?
If I wanted to check the cabins, all|twelve, I'd need a warrant, wouldn't I?
If you don't believe me, come on|with me. You can help me change beds.
Oh. No, thanks.
Uh, change your mind?
You know, l...I think I have one of|those faces you can't help believing.
- Is anyone at home?|- No.
Oh? There's somebody|sitting in the window.
- N-N-No, there isn't.|- Sure. Take a look.
Oh, th-that must be|my mother.
She's an, uh, "inavlid..."|an invalid.
Uh, it's practically|like living alone.
Oh, I see.
If this girl, Marion Crane, were here,|you wouldn't be hiding her, would you?
- No.|- Not even if she paid you well?
Let's say, for the sake of argument,|she wanted you to gallantly protect her.
You'd know|you were being used.
- You wouldn't be made a fool of.|- I'm not a fool.
And I'm not capable of being fooled,|not even by a woman.
- This is not a slur on your manhood.|- Let's put it this way.
She might have fooled me,|but she didn't fool my mother.
Then your mother met her.|Could I talk to your mother?
No. As I told you,|she's confined.
Just for a few minutes. There might be|some hint that you missed out on.
Sick old women|are usually pretty sharp.
- I wouldn't disturb her.|- Mr. Arbogast, l-I think I've...
- I think I've talked to you all I want.|- Yes, but just for...
It'd be much better|if you left now. Thanks.
Well, all right.
You sure would save me a lot of|leg work if you'd let me talk to her.
- Would I need a warrant for that too?|- Sure.
All right.|Thanks, anyway.
Hello, Loomis.|This is Arbogast. Is Lila there?
Let me talk to her, please.
Hello, Lila.
Lila, listen.|Marion was up here.
Yes, she spent last Saturday night|at the Bates Motel.
It's out|on the old highway.
I even know what cabin she was in...|it was number one.
Well, this young fella that runs|the place said she just spent the night,
left the next day|and that was it.
Mmm.|Um, no, not exactly.
Well, I did question him,|believe me,
but I think I got|all there was to get.
I'll just have to pick up|the pieces from here.
Well, I tell ya,|I don't feel entirely satisfied, uh...
See, this boy|had a sick old mother.
I think she saw Marion|and talked to her.
No. No, unfortunately,|he wouldn't let me see her.
Well, I was, but I think I'll go|back to the motel first.
No, you stay there with Loomis.|I'll be back in about an hour.
All right, fine.|Listen, l...
You'll be happy to know|what I think.
Uh, I think our friend Sam Loomis|didn't know that Marion was here.
All right. See ya|in about an hour...or less.
All right, bye-bye.
Sometimes Saturday night has a Ionely|sound. Ever notice that, Lila?
Sam, he said|an hour or less.
It's been three.
Are we just|going to sit here and wait?
He'll be back.
Let's sit still|and hang on, okay?
- How far is the old highway?|- You wanna go out there, don't you?
- Bust in on Arbogast and the old lady.|- Yes.
- Maybe shake her up.|- Yes!
- That wouldn't be wise.|- Patience doesn't run in my family.
- I'm going out there.|- Arbogast said...
An hour, or less.
Well, I'm going.
You'll never find it.
- Stay here.|- Why can't I go?
I don't know. One of us has to be here,|in case he's on the way.
What am I supposed to do,|just sit here and wait?
Yeah. Stay here.
- He didn't come back here?|- Sam!
No Arbogast, no Bates.|Only the old lady at home.
Sick old lady unable to answer|the door...or unwilling.
Where could he|have gone?
Maybe he got|some definite lead.
- Maybe he went right on.|- Without calling me?
- In a hurry.|- Sam, he called...
when he had nothing|but a dissatisfied feeling.
Don't you think he'd have called|if he had anything at all?
Yes, I think|he would've.
- Let's go see Al Chambers.|- Who's he?
- Our deputy sheriff around here.|- Let me get my coat.
Good evening.
Well, l...I don't know where to start,|except at the beginning.
- This is Lila Crane from Phoenix.|- How do you do?
She's been here|searching for her sister.
There's this|private detective helping.
We got a call from this|detective...he'd traced her...
to that motel|on the old highway.
That must be|the Bates Motel.
He called to say he was going|to question Mrs. Bates.
Norman took a wife?
No, l-I don't think so.|An old woman. His mother.
That was early this evening. We|haven't seen or heard from him since.
Now, your sister's|missing how long?
She left Phoenix a week ago|yesterday without a trace.
How'd you and this detective come|to trace her to Fairvale?
They thought|she'd be coming to me.
- Left Phoenix under her own steam?|- Yes.
She's not missing so much|as she's run away.
That's right.
From what?
She stole some money.
A lot?
Forty thousand dollars.
The police haven't|been able to...
Everyone concerned thought if they|could get her to give the money back,
they could avoid involving her|with the police.
That explains|the private detective.
He traced her|to the Bates place.
What exactly did he say|when he called you?
He said Marion was there|for one night, then she left.
- With the $40,000?|- He didn't say anything...
about the money.
It isn't important|what he said, is it?
He was supposed to come talk to us after|he talked to the mother, and he didn't.
That's what I want you|to do something about.
Like what?
I'm sorry if I seem overanxious.
I'm sure there's something wrong|out there, and I have to know what.
Well, I think there's something wrong|too, Miss, but not the same thing.
I think what's wrong|is your private detective.
I think he got himself a hot lead|as to where your sister was goin',
probably from Norman Bates,
and called you to keep you still while|he took off after her and the money.
No, no, he said he was dissatisfied|and he was going back there.
Call Norman and let him|say what happened.
At this hour?
He was out when I was there a while ago.|If he's back, he probably isn't in bed.
He wasn't out; he just wasn't answerin'|the door in the dead of night,
like some people do.
This fellow lives|like a hermit.
You must remember that bad business|out there about ten years ago.
Please. Call.
Florrie, the sheriff wants you|to connect him with the Bates Motel.
Norman?|Sheriff Chambers.
Ye...I been|just fine, thanks.
Listen, we got|worries here.
Yeah, have you had a fella|stop by there tonight...
Well, this one|wouldn't be a customer.
- A private detective, name of...|- Arbogast.
And after he left?
No, that's...|that's okay, Norman.
This detective was there,|Norman told him about the girl,
the detective thanked him|and he went away.
And he didn't come back?|He didn't see the mother?
Your detective told you|he couldn't come right back...
because he was going to question|Norman Bates'mother, right?
Norman Bates'mother|has been dead and buried...
in Greenlawn Cemetery|for the past ten years.
I helped Norman pick out the dress|she was buried in. Periwinkle blue.
'Tain't only|local history, Sam.
It's the only case of murder|and suicide on Fairvale ledgers.
Mrs. Bates poisoned this guy|she was...involved with...
when she found out|he was married,
then took a helpin'of|the same stuff herself.
Strychnine.|Ugly way to die.
Norman found them|dead together.
In bed.
You mean that old woman I saw sittin'|in the window wasn't Bates'mother?
Now, wait a minute, Sam.|Are you sure you saw an old woman?
Yes! In the house|behind the motel!
I called and pounded|but she just ignored me!
You saw|Norman Bates'mother?
But it had to be...|because Arbogast said so too!
And the young man wouldn't let him|see her because she was too ill.
Well, if the woman up there|is Mrs. Bates,
who's that woman buried|out in Greenlawn Cemetery?
Now, Mother, um...|l-I'm gonna bring something up...
I am sorry, boy,
but you do manage to look ludicrous|when you give me orders.
Please, Mother.
No!|I will not hide in the fruit cellar.
Ha! You think|I'm fruity, huh?
I'm staying right here.
This is my room and|no one will drag me out of it,
least of all|my big, bold son.
They'll come now, Mother.
He came after the girl,|and now someone will come after him.
Mother, please, it's just for|a few days so they won't find you.
Just for a few days?
In that dark, dank|fruit cellar? No!
You hid me there once, boy, and you|won't do it again, not ever again!
Now get out!
- I told you to get out, boy.|- I'll carry you, Mother.
Norman, what do you|think you're doing?
Don't you touch me!|Don't! Norman!
Put me down! Put me down!|I can walk on my own.
Wonderful sermon today.
- Good morning.|- Good morning.
We thought we'd drive out|to that motel with you.
- He's already been.|- Went out before service.
- Did you two have breakfast?|- Didn't find anything?
Nothing. Let's|clear the way here.
What did he say|about my sister?
Just what he told your detective:|She used a fake name.
Saw the register myself. Saw the|whole place. That boy's alone there.
- No mother?|- You must have seen an illusion, Sam.
I know you're not|the seein'-illusions type,
but no woman was there and I don't|believe in ghosts, so there it is.
I still feel|there's something...
Can see you do. I'm sorry I couldn't|make you feel better.
Come to my office this afternoon and|report a missing person and a theft.
The sooner you drop this|in the lap of the law,
that's the sooner you stand a chance|of your sister bein'picked up.
How 'bout that?
- I don't know.|- It's Sunday.
Come to the house and do your reporting|around dinnertime. It'll make it nicer.
You too, Sam.
Thank you.
- Maybe I am the seeing-illusions type.|- No, you're not.
- You want me to drop you at the hotel...|- Sam.
I still won't feel satisfied|until I go out there.
Neither will I.|Come on.
We better decide what we're gonna say|or do when we walk in there.
We're going to register|as man and wife.
We're going to|get shown to a cabin,
and then we're going to search every|inch of the place, inside and out.
I wonder where Norman Bates|does his hermiting.
Someone's at that window.|I just saw the curtain move.
Come on.
- Well?|- Just coming up to ring for you.
Uh-huh.|Suppose you want a room.
We were gonna try to make it|to San Francisco,
but we don't like the look|of that sky.
Looks like a bad day coming,|doesn't it?
- I'll take you to cabin ten.|- Better sign in first, hadn't we?
That's not necessary.
My boss is paying for this trip|and, uh, well, it's 90%business.
He wants practically|notarized receipts.
I'd better sign in|and get a receipt.
Thank you.
- I'll get your bags.|- Haven't any.
- I'll show you the room, then.|- First time I've ever seen it happen.
You check in any other place|in this country without bags...
- And you have to pay in advance.|- Ten dollars.
That receipt.
I'll go on ahead.
All right, there's your receipt.|I'll show you the cabin.
Don't bother yourself.|We'll find it.
Sam, we have to go into that cabin|and search it,
no matter what we're afraid of|finding or how much it may hurt.
I know.
Do you think if something|happened, it happened there?
I don't know, but if you had...
a useless business like this motel,|what would you need to get out?
To get a new business somewhere else?|Forty thousand dollars?
How could we prove that...
If he opens a motel on|the new highway in, say, a year...
There must be some proof|that exists now,
something that proves he got|that money away from Marion somehow.
- What makes you sound so certain?|- Arbogast. He liked me, Sam.
Or he felt sorry for me|and he was beginning to feel...
the same way about you.
I could tell the last time|I talked to him on the phone.
He wouldn't have gone anywhere or done|anything without telling us,
unless he was stopped.
And he was stopped. So he must|have found out something.
We'll start with cabin one.
If he sees us,|we're just taking the air.
No shower curtain.
- Sam! Look!|- Huh? What is it?
It's figuring. It didn't|get washed down. Look.
Some figure has been added to|or subtracted from 40,000.
That proves Marion was here.|It'd be too wild a coincidence...
Bates never denied she was here.
Oh. Doesn't that prove|he found out about the money?
Do we simply ask him|where he's hidden it?
But that old woman, whoever she is,|she told Arbogast something.
I want her to tell us|the same thing.
- You can't go up there.|- Why not?
- Bates.|- Well, let's find him.
One of us can keep him occupied while|the other gets to the old woman.
You'll never be able to hold him|still if he doesn't want to be held.
I don't like you going|into that house alone.
I can handle a sick old woman.
All right, I'll find Bates|and keep him occupied.
Wait a minute.
If you get anything|out of the mother,
can you find your way|back to town?
Yes, of course.
If you do get anything,|don't stop to tell me.
- You looking for me?|- Why, yes, as a matter off act.
Wife's taking a nap and...
I never can keep quiet enough for her,|so I thought I'd look you up and talk.
- Good. You satisfied with your cabin?|- Oh, it's fine.
I've been doing all the talking|so far, haven't I?
I thought it was the people|who were alone most of the time...
who did all the talking|when they got the chance.
Here you are|doing all the listening.
- You are alone here, aren't you?|- Mm-hmm.
Drive me crazy.
I think that would be a rather|extreme reaction, don't you?
Just an expression. What I meant was,|uh, I'd do anything to get away.
- Wouldn't you?|- No.
Mrs. Bates?
I'm not saying you|shouldn't be contented here,
I'm just doubting that you are.
I think if you saw a chance to get out|from under you'd unload this place.
This place? This place happens|to be my only world.
I grew up in that house.|I had a very happy childhood.
My mother and I|were more than happy.
You look frightened. Have I been|saying something frightening?
I don't know|what you've been saying.
I've been talking about your mother,|about your motel.
- How you gonna do it?|- Do what?
Buy a new one in a new town where you|won't have to hide your mother.
Why don't you just get in|your car and drive away?
Where will you get the money to do that?|Or do you already have it socked away?
- Shut up!|- A lot of it. Forty thousand dollars.
I bet your mother knows where the money|is and what you did to get it.
I think she'll tell us.
Where's that girl you came here with?|Where is she?
Mrs. Bates, it's...
Norman Bates!
If anyone gets any answers|it'll be the psychiatrist.
Even I couldn't get to Norman|and he knows me.
- You warm enough, miss?|- Yes.
Did he talk to you?
I got the whole story, but not from|Norman. I got it from his "mother."
Norman Bates|no longer exists.
He only half-existed|to begin with.
And now the other half|has taken over,
probably for all time.
Did he kill my sister?
Yes...and no.
Now look, if you're trying to lay|some psychiatric groundwork...
for some sort of plea|this fellow would like to cop...
A psychiatrist|doesn't lay the groundwork.
He merely tries|to explain it.
- But my sister is...|- Yes.
Yes, I'm sorry.|The private investigator too.
If you drag that swamp somewhere in|the vicinity of the motel, you'Il...
Uh, have you any unsolved|missing persons cases on your books?
- Yes, two.|- Young girls?
- Did he confess to...|- Like I said,
the "mother."
To understand it the way I understood|it, hearing it from the "mother"...
that is from the "mother" half|of Norman's mind...
you have to go back|ten years...
to the time when Norman murdered|his mother and her lover.
He was already dangerously disturbed,|had been since his father died.
His mother was|a clinging, demanding woman,
and for years the two of them lived as|if there was no one else in the world.
Then she met a man,
and it seemed to Norman that|she threw him over for this man.
That pushed him over the line|and he killed them both.
Matricide is probably the most|unbearable crime of all,
most unbearable|to the son who commits it.
So he had to erase the crime,|at least in his own mind.
He stole her corpse.
A weighted coffin was buried.
He hid the body|in the fruit cellar,
even treated it to keep it|as well as it would keep.
And that still|wasn't enough.
She was there...|but she was a corpse.
So he began to think|and speak for her,
give her half his life,|so to speak.
At times he could be both personalities,|carry on conversations.
At other times, the "mother" half|took over completely.
He was never all Norman,|but he was of ten only "Mother,"
and because he was so|pathologically jealous of her,
he assumed that she|was as jealous of him.
Therefore, if he felt a strong|attraction to any other woman,
the "mother" side of him|would go wild.
When he met your sister,
he was touched by her,|aroused by her.
He wanted her.
That set off the jealous "mother"|and "Mother" killed the girl.
After the murder Norman returned|as if from a deep sleep...
and, like a dutiful son, covered up|all traces of the crime...
he was convinced|his "mother" had committed!
Why was he...|dressed like that?
He's a transvestite.
Uh, not exactly.
A man who dresses in women's clothing|in order to achieve a sexual change,
or satisfaction,|is a transvestite.
But in Norman's case, he was simply|doing everything possible...
to keep alive the illusion|of his mother being alive.
And when reality|came too close,
when danger or desire|threatened that illusion,
he dressed up, even to|a cheap wig he bought.
He'd walk about the house,|sit in her chair, speak in her voice.
He tried to be|his mother.
And, uh, now he is.
That's what I meant when I said|I got the story from the "mother."
You see, when the mind|houses two personalities...
there's always|a conflict, a battle.
In Norman's case,|the battle is over...
and the dominant personality|has won.
And the $40,000?|Who got that?
The swamp. These were|crimes of passion, not profit.
He feels a little chill.|Can I bring him this blanket?
- Oh, sure.|- All right.
Thank you.
It's sad when a mother|has to speak the words...
that condemn her own son,
but I couldn't allow them|to believe that I would commit murder.
They'll put him away now,|as I should have years ago.
He was always bad,|and in the end...
he intended to tell them I killed|those girls and that man,
as if I could do anything|except sit and stare,
like one of his stuffed birds.
They know I can't even|move a finger, and I won't.
I'll just sit here and be quiet,|just in case they do suspect me.
They're probably watching me.|Well, let them.
Let them see|what kind of a person I am.
I'm not even|gonna swat that fly.
I hope they are watching.|They'll see.
They'll see|and they'll know,
and they'll say, "Why, shewouldn't even harm a fly."
P S 2004
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