(no subject)
This isn't the first time Harry Truman's stood outside this door, hesitating to knock.
Things go around in circles, like an electric fan dying.
Knock knock.
Who's there?
The restless dead.
"Sheriff." Leland Palmer peers out of the shadows. "Come in. Sarah's not here."
Harry's place is descended into a sort of blind squalor; there are times when ordinary things like cleaning just don't seem to make any sense in the context of your insane life. The Palmer house is in the other direction, obsessively gleaming in the gloom. There's no furniture in the living room, though, just a circle of photographs of Laura.
"The money's all gone," Leland explains. "I had... investments, but they needed managing, and Sarah hasn't managed much, these last few months. Not much at all. There's a man who helped me... get around some rules. He has some of my money. She went to find him." He's walking around the circle, straightening each picture. Eventually he comes back to the start.
"Ben went with her."
"You trust Ben Horne?"
"In certain things."
"With your wife?"
"She's a widow, Sheriff."
Harry's got his hands in his pockets; it feels disrespectful, somehow. "Leland--"
"We need to do something," Leland says.
"Yes."
"This isn't right."
"No."
"Something closed the door, between this world and the Black Lodge, Harry. Those of us on this side, stayed here. Those inside--" Touch. "Stayed inside. Things are all wrong. I thought, Sarah and I... she's getting worse, Harry. Not better. Worse." Touch. "Everything just gets worse."
"I think--I'm responsible," Harry says, abrupt and harsh. "How do I fix it?"
"I don't know," Leland says. "But I think it's time we got some ideas, don't you think?"
"I think... I think I should call Agent Cooper," Harry says.
"Phone's out," Leland says. "Lights, too."
Harry nods, and goes out to the cruiser. "Lucy... can you patch me through to the phone, and call Agent Cooper?"
"Sure thing, Sheriff."
Things go around in circles, like an electric fan dying.
Knock knock.
Who's there?
The restless dead.
"Sheriff." Leland Palmer peers out of the shadows. "Come in. Sarah's not here."
Harry's place is descended into a sort of blind squalor; there are times when ordinary things like cleaning just don't seem to make any sense in the context of your insane life. The Palmer house is in the other direction, obsessively gleaming in the gloom. There's no furniture in the living room, though, just a circle of photographs of Laura.
"The money's all gone," Leland explains. "I had... investments, but they needed managing, and Sarah hasn't managed much, these last few months. Not much at all. There's a man who helped me... get around some rules. He has some of my money. She went to find him." He's walking around the circle, straightening each picture. Eventually he comes back to the start.
"Ben went with her."
"You trust Ben Horne?"
"In certain things."
"With your wife?"
"She's a widow, Sheriff."
Harry's got his hands in his pockets; it feels disrespectful, somehow. "Leland--"
"We need to do something," Leland says.
"Yes."
"This isn't right."
"No."
"Something closed the door, between this world and the Black Lodge, Harry. Those of us on this side, stayed here. Those inside--" Touch. "Stayed inside. Things are all wrong. I thought, Sarah and I... she's getting worse, Harry. Not better. Worse." Touch. "Everything just gets worse."
"I think--I'm responsible," Harry says, abrupt and harsh. "How do I fix it?"
"I don't know," Leland says. "But I think it's time we got some ideas, don't you think?"
"I think... I think I should call Agent Cooper," Harry says.
"Phone's out," Leland says. "Lights, too."
Harry nods, and goes out to the cruiser. "Lucy... can you patch me through to the phone, and call Agent Cooper?"
"Sure thing, Sheriff."