Foul Play

So you don't think I should
call the police?

The police? Whatever for?
I don't know.
I just have this strange feeling

that somebody's trying to kill me.
To kill yous? Well, you gonna
call the police and tell them

that you have a strange feeling?
I mean, they got killings of their own
to worry about, you know?

You're probably right.
They have killings and executions
and assassinations.

I think it's time we made
"murder" a four-letter word.

- Would you have a cookie?
- OK.

- They're good.
- Aren't they?

Well, when you've been an
anthropologist as long as I have,

you're working most of the time
in the field.

You acquire what my old father
used to call "culinary expertise".

I remember in Africa, in Kenya,
I was studying the lbutu tribe,
fascinating society,

and we could take a leaf from
their book, if they had books.

But they did have this wizened
old witch doctor,

and his name was Kiyato,
and he was a pretty good cook.

Here, I've got a picture of him.
I'll show you.

Esme! Get away from those cookies!
Esme, get away!

Get away from that! Hear?
Oh, poor Esme. You frightened her.
Well, she's getting too uppity.
She steals me out of
house and home.

Don't you, you wicked girl?
Don't you?

Where was I? Yes, the lbutu.
This is a commendable society.
It has severe taboos on murder
and light taboos on sex.

Thank you, Mr. Hennesey.
You've been wonderful.

Well, you're my favorite tenant.
And if anything disturbs you
in the middle of the night,

you just scream
and I'll be upstairs in a flash,
kicking ass.