Waldo Lydecker: Well, detective. Your goon squad already grilled me this morning. Why are you bothering me now?
Mark McPherson: Quite a lavish joint you’ve got here Lydecker.
Waldo Lydecker: It's lavish, but I call it home
Mark McPherson: Busy in the bathtub as usual?
Waldo Lydecker: I always do all my reviews bathing, my dear detective. It helps me get in the mood for being Caligula and giving thumbs down on to all the usual films and plays that simply bore me to death.
Mark McPherson: I suppose you’ve heard about that dame Violet Venable?
Waldo Lydecker: I’m truly shocked. I thought I knew Violet Venable better than that, but apparently not...
Mark McPherson: Yeah, dames are always pulling a switch on you.
Waldo Lydecker: I hope she died with a simply beautiful, lovely smile on her face. Violet Venable certainly has been through so very much terrible tragedy and heartache since Sebastian was lobotomized, the poor dear.
Mark McPherson: When a dame gets killed, she doesn't worry about how she looks.
Waldo Lydecker: Will you stop calling her a dame?
Mark McPherson: I guess the old dame was not only Sebastian’s mother, but also his helpful low-life fag hag as well. But then with your all-knowing background I’m sure you already knew all about that.
Waldo Lydecker: In Violet's case as well as mine, our self-absorption has been completely justified. I have never discovered any other subject quite so worthy of my attention as myself. Violet felt the same way, so did Sebastian.
Mark McPherson: I've gotta say, for a charming, intelligent old dame, she certainly surrounded herself with a remarkable collection of dumb dopes and flaming fags.
Waldo Lydecker: You’re so kind, detective. Not a vicious bone in your body. It's the secret of your charm?
Mark McPherson: Just doing my job, Lydecker.
Waldo Lydecker: And I’m a suspect?
Mark McPherson: I suspect no one, and I suspect everyone.
Waldo Lydecker: (Yawn........)
Mark McPherson: This morning when my men came here to tell you that Violet Venable was dead, you didn't seem shocked at all.
Waldo Lydecker: How can I possibly forgive Violet? After all, she had my loving companion, Sebastian, her own dearly beloved son—coldly and savagely lobotomized behind my back. Without a word of warning. Silencing Sebastian's sweet eternal voice of Orphée forever…
Mark McPherson: Orphée? Isn’t that some Greek dame? Some kinda drag act outta Greek mythology or something?
Waldo Lydecker: My dear, McPherson. Surely you’re not that ignorant?
Mark McPherson: Forget it, it’s all Greek to me. I’ve met a lotta con-artists in my racket—they’re all smooth characters with the same old crummy alibis. You've heard one alibi, you've heard 'em all.
Waldo Lydecker: I’ve sure, my dear dectective, you've got better things to do rather than watch me bathe. You surely need to investigate some of the other seedy suspects, like Vincent Price and Judith Anderson…
Mark McPherson: Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll let you get back to playing with yourself in the bathtub.