DARKNESS.

We hear a sort of clicking, rustling sound.

PATRICK GRUBMAN wakes up suddenly. He's in bed with his wife LAURA beside him. It's still dark.

GRUBMAN:
Laura?

LAURA:
Mmm.

GRUBMAN:
Did you hear something?

LAURA:
Mmm?

GRUBMAN:
Didn't you hear a sort of clicking, rustling sound?

LAURA:
Mmm.

Sighing, Grubman settles his head back on the pillow. Then he raises his head again, and clicks on the bedside lamp.

There is a BUSINESS CARD on his pillow.

Grubman picks up the business card and examines it.

It's blank except for the following words centered in small type:

GRAHAM ZELINSKY
CEILING FANS

LAURA:
Mmm.

GRUBMAN:
Do we know a Graham Zelinsky?

Laura turns over. A pause.

LAURA:
Who?

GRUBMAN:
Zelinsky. Ceiling fans. He's left his card.

He hands her the card. She looks at it. She turns it over. There's writing on the back.

GRUBMAN:
What does it say?

She hands back the card. He holds it up and reads:

WILL CALL TOMORROW

The next morning. Grubman, in dress shirt and tie, is at work in his cubicle. He's staring at a spreadsheet on his computer monitor.

The phone rings. Grubman answers.

GRUBMAN:
Grubman speaking.

GRAHAM'S VOICE:
Mr. Grubman?

GRUBMAN:
Yes.

GRAHAM'S VOICE:
It's Graham Zelinsky.

GRUBMAN:
Ah, Mr. Zelinsky. I received your card.

GRAHAM'S VOICE:
Oh, good.

GRUBMAN:
My wife and I weren't expecting visitors last night.

GRAHAM'S VOICE:
No, I thought I'd surprise you.

Grubman's boss MR. PICKLETHORPE appears in the entrance to his cubicle.

PICKLETHORPE:
Grubman.

GRUBMAN:
Can I ask if you had any particular reason for dropping in?

PICKLETHORPE:
Grubman.

GRAHAM'S VOICE:
Well, you see...it concerns your wife and daughter, Mr. Grubman.

PICKLETHORPE:
Grubman.

GRUBMAN:
My wife and daughter?

PICKLETHORPE:
Grubman!

GRUBMAN:
...I'm sorry, Mr. Zelinsky, could you just hold on for a moment?

Grubman covers the receiver and turns to Mr. Picklethorpe.

GRUBMAN:
Yes, Mr. Picklethorpe?

Mr. Picklethorpe hands him a file folder.

PICKLETHORPE:
I need this item actioned asap.

GRUBMAN:
Yes, Mr. Picklethorpe.

Mr. Picklethorpe leaves. Grubman uncovers the receiver.

GRUBMAN:
I'm sorry, Mr. Zelinsky. You were saying?

A pause.

GRUBMAN:
Mr. Zelinsky?

CUT TO:

Grubman's house. Laura is at the stove, boiling water. The TV is playing quietly in the background.

There is a clicking, rustling sound.

Laura hears it and turns her head. She looks around the kitchen. A pause.

The telephone rings. Laura jumps.

Laughing at her jumpiness, she answers the phone.

LAURA:
Hello?

GRUBMAN'S VOICE:
Honey, it's me. Is everything all right?

LAURA:
Yes. I was just boiling some water.

GRUBMAN'S VOICE:
That's good. Is Jenny with you?

LAURA:
She's napping.

GRUBMAN'S VOICE:
Could you check on her for me?

LAURA:
Check on her? Why?

GRUBMAN'S VOICE:
Probably nothing. Could you just check on her, please?

LAURA:
All right. Just hold on.

Laura puts down the phone and goes down the hall.

CUT TO:

The nursery. Laura enters and finds their daughter JENNY - about two years old - standing up in her crib.

Jenny is holding a BUSINESS CARD.

Laura takes the card and examines it. It's the same as the card from last night. She flips it over. Handwritten neatly on the back is the message:

WILL COME BY AGAIN TONIGHT

A small, cluttered office. Stacks of file folders on the desk. Grubman is seated in a wooden chair, waiting.

DETECTIVE SCHWARTZ, old and grizzled, comes in.

SCHWARTZ:
Mr. Grubman?

GRUBMAN:
Detective Schwartz.

They shake hands.

SCHWARTZ:
Sorry to keep you waiting. The desk sergeant told me you wished to file a complaint?

GRUBMAN:
They said I should talk to you first. They said you might know something about this.

Grubman hands the detective both of Graham Zelinsky's business cards. The detective turns them over, nodding grimly.

SCHWARTZ:
Ah, yes, Zelinsky.

GRUBMAN:
You know this Graham Zelinsky character?

SCHWARTZ:
Yes, yes, we've got a dossier on him. Hold on while I get it.

The detective goes to a file cabinet and digs around.

SCHWARTZ:
How did you come in contact with Graham Zelinsky?

GRUBMAN:
Actually, he got in contact with me. He left one of his cards on my pillow last night. Then he left another card with my two-year-old daughter Jenny this morning.

The detective pauses in his rummaging.

SCHWARTZ:
Two years old, you say?

GRUBMAN:
Why, yes.

A pause. The detective forces a smile.

SCHWARTZ:
That's a delightful age.

GRUBMAN:
Oh, it certainly is. Anyway, my wife tells me I'm getting worked up over nothing. Still, I thought I should check with the police. You never know these days. What with the con artists, and the Gypsies, and so forth.

SCHWARTZ:
Yes. Well, here's the file.

He hands Grubman a thin file folder. Grubman flips it open. It's empty except for an 8x10 photograph.

Grubman looks at the photograph, a puzzled expression on his face.

GRUBMAN:
I don't understand.

SCHWARTZ:
You see, Mr. Grubman, Graham Zelinsky is a large spider.

GRUBMAN:
Oh.

Schwartz holds his hands about two feet apart.

SCHWARTZ:
About that large.

GRUBMAN:
Hmm.

SCHWARTZ:
Of South American extraction.

GRUBMAN:
I see.

He tucks the photograph back into the file folder and hands it across to the detective.

GRUBMAN:
Poisonous?

SCHWARTZ:
Oh, very.

GRUBMAN:
Has he...killed many people?

A pause.

SCHWARTZ:
Hmm. This is rather awkward.

GRUBMAN:
Awkward?

SCHWARTZ:
Graham Zelinsky isn't a killer, Mr. Grubman. He comes through town every few years and leaves a raft of complaints in his wake. But they're not...the sort of complaints...that the police can act on.

GRUBMAN:
What sort of complaints are they?

SCHWARTZ:
You see, the last time Zelinsky came through town was...

CUT TO:

Grubman's house. Laura is on the sofa, reading a magazine.

There is a clicking, rustling sound.

Laura hears it. Breathing deeply, she closes the magazine and rises. She listens carefully.

The sound again.

Laura follows the sound down the hallway and turns into the darkened nursery. She puts her hand on the light switch.

GRAHAM'S VOICE:
Don't turn on the light!

Laura looks up. A dark, many-legged shape is perched in the angle of the wall and the ceiling.

LAURA:
Graham.

GRAHAM:
Laura. As lovely as ever.

LAURA:
Don't start. Why did you come back?

GRAHAM:
I had to see her.

Laura lifts Jenny out of the crib and holds her.

LAURA:
You've seen her. Now go. My husband will be home soon.

GRAHAM:
Does he know?

LAURA:
Of course not. Luckily she doesn't have your features.

She goes to the window and looks out.

LAURA:
He went to the police, you know. I told him not to. I was worried what he'd find out.

GRAHAM:
What do you mean?

LAURA:
Save the innocent act, Graham. After you disappeared I did some digging into your background. You're not a travelling ceiling fan sales representative from Sault Ste. Marie. Your name isn't even Zelinsky. What is your real name?

GRAHAM: (sighing)
My real name is Grammostola mollicoma. I come from a family of large South American spiders.

LAURA:
Of course, I had my suspicions. The way you always insisted we keep the lights off.

GRAHAM:
I was a cad, Laura. I freely admit it. I didn't have the courage to tell the truth and face your disapproval.

LAURA:
Save your lies, Grammostola mollicoma. How many others were there?

GRAHAM:
Others?

LAURA:
Other fools like me. Silly sentimental housewives.

GRAHAM:
You were anything but silly. And there has never been another one like you.

LAURA:
I only wish I could believe you.

GRAHAM:
Oh, Laura...Laura...surely it's not that hard. Don't you remember that bed and breakfast overlooking the river? The low-hanging moon...

LAURA:
Dancing on the veranda...

GRAHAM:
You in that red summer dress...

LAURA:
You in that ridiculous top hat...

She smiles. She goes to the corner, reaches up, and strokes one of his hairy legs.

Then she abruptly turns away and puts the baby in her crib.

LAURA:
Oh, Graham...I thought I'd put all this behind me. If you'd only stayed around...things might have turned out differently...

The sound of a car pulling up. Laura goes to the window and looks out.

LAURA:
But it's too late for that. Please leave. And don't ever come back.

She opens the window and walks briskly to the door. There is a clicking, rustling sound behind her. The many-legged shape appears, silhouetted against the window.

LAURA:
Please.

Laura heads off down the hall.

CUT TO:

The front hall. The door opens and Grubman enters. Laura is waiting for him.

LAURA:
Patrick.

A pause.

GRUBMAN:
Did Mr. Zelinsky make his promised appearance?

LAURA:
He did.

GRUBMAN:
And what did he have to say?

LAURA:
He tried to sell me a ceiling fan.

GRUBMAN:
Oh, did he?

LAURA:
I told him we wouldn't be requiring his services.

GRUBMAN:
Oh, did you?

A pause.

GRUBMAN:
Well. Good.

A pause. Laura approaches and throws her arms around him.

LAURA:
Patrick...oh, Patrick, darling, we don't have to think about Graham Zelinsky ever again!

She kisses him.

There is a clicking, rustling sound. Grubman turns to look up at the ceiling, but Laura catches him by the face and gently turns him back toward her.

GRUBMAN:
Did you hear...?

LAURA:
Darling...I didn't hear a thing.

With one eye on the ceiling, she kisses him again.

THE END.