All language subtitles for Marple 1x04 - 450 From Paddington .dd.en

Is there time?

Just.

A letter from Edmund.

Hm?

He's met a girl and married her
in London.

"We've tied the knot now
without any fuss, just in case.

Her name is Martine. She's French.

I'll bring her down to meet you all
before I sail."

If I'm asleep when they come...

...tell them...

...tell them from us...

it's only love that matters.

Love... not money.

However much you may have, actually.

Have I said goodbye to the others?

My precious children.

Emma,

Alfred,

Harold,

Edith,

Cedric.

I love them all so much.

(Gasps)

She's gone.

Oh, Dad.

(Sobs)

GUARD: Tickets! Tickets!

(Band plays God Rest Ye Merry Gentlemen)

A single to St Mary Mead,
if you please.

First class.

Thank you.

(Train whistle)

Jane!

Fetch out the damson gin!

I'm catching the 4.50
from Paddington.

(Guard blows whistle)

GUARD: All aboard!

(Guard blows whistle)

Oh, Roddy.

Don't...

Last service for tea, madam.

Roddy.

No, don't.

(Train whistle blows)

I've just seen a murder.

There's nothing in the headlines.
Have a look in the Stop Press.

They must have found
the poor woman's body by now.

When I changed trains,
that attendant said he was going to report it.

And you told him
you'd be staying here?

I gave him your telephone number
for the police.

- He did believe you?
- Why the devil shouldn't he?

Oh! I'm not so sure.

The awful thing is
I'm beginning to doubt it myself.

Last week I put sugar on my kippers.
You don't think I'm going doolally?

Anyone less doolally than you, Elspeth,
I have yet to meet.

Should I still go tomorrow?
Roddy will be so disappointed.

It's his first Christmas
without Margaret.

And only your second without Arthur.

If I can be of some comfort
to the poor, sweet man...

Then you must do your duty.

Is it very hot in Ceylon?

And sticky.

I've taken plenty of light frocks.

I'm rather worried about perspiring, Jane.

I'll just have to change frequently.

You're a lady, Elspeth!
You won't perspire. You'll glow.

Now, if we get our skates on,
we should just catch the 10.33.

Where to? I've had enough of trains.

I apologise that no-one thought to relay
the astonishing news to you sooner.

- Astonishing?
- Yeah.

I'm surprised
we didn't get the headlines.

Amazing discovery.
No Corpse On Train.

I told you they wouldn't believe me.

Now, be fair, Mrs McGillicuddy.

The attendant did call the local police.
They called us.

I interrupted major pickpocket surveillance
to help identify the offending train,

which was then held at the next stop

with considerable disruption
to the timetable.

A full search was carried out.

There was no body.

And the passengers?
Did you look in their luggage?

- Why?
- You read about bodies in suitcases.

I know what must have happened.

The murderer pushed the body
out of the train.

(Laughs)

Have you any idea how hard it is
to open a train door at speed,

let alone shove a body out?

In any case, on the off-chance
that Charles Atlas is the murderer,

all the drivers and the guards
on that line

have been asked to keep an eye open
for a body by the track.

So far,
the phones have remained silent.

Now, I have work to do.

Which train was it, may I ask,
and where was it searched?

Police information is confidential, dear.

If I was 20 years younger,
I would put you across my knee

and tan your hide, you snotty pup.

And it's railway information,
not police information,

and we all own the railways now, don't we?

I've got the timetable.

- Still no sign.
- Oh, dear.

- Did they have a map?
- They did.

(Tannoy announcement)
- That's us.

- The very same train.
- Mm.

Do you suppose the murderer's on it?

I doubt he makes a habit
of strangling women on trains.

- No.
- It was the last carriage?

Third class.

How soon after the murder
did you reach Hampton Parva

and change for St Mary Mead?

The attendant said it was seven minutes
to the station

and that was two minutes at the most
after I'd told him what I'd seen.

If we assume that the murder
happened 9 minutes before

and you arrived at the station at 5.35.

That inspector said this train
was searched at Brackhampton,

which would have been at 5.40.

Here's where we are now.

The tracks run side by side.

We must be almost there.

Would you mind strangling me, Elspeth?

Not at all, Jane.

Please don't mind us.

It's a bit rocky.

We're slowing down.

That's why the blind flew up
when it did.

Where exactly are we?

Right slap-bang in the middle of nowhere,
by the look of it.

This is where you must have seen
the other train.

Yes, so it is, Jane.

BOY: Come on, Stoddard-West!
Catch up!

Wait, wait, Eastley!

(American accent)
Alexander! James!

What did I tell you?

You are never, never to come this far
without my permission.

- Sorry, Daddy.
- Sorry, Mr Eastley.

- It was my fault.
- J'excuse, Papa.

Non, je m'excuse.

What would your mother say
if you'd fallen in?

Come on. It's time to eat.

We slowed down around this curve.

The railway follows the boundary of
a very large estate just before Brackhampton.

The house is Rutherford Hall.

Rutherford Hall.
That clangs a damn great bell. I just can't...

Oh, maybe I am going doolally.

No, no, no, it'll come to you.

I only had a glimpse
but we were looking down.

The line runs along an embankment.

If that's where he pushed the body out,

it would have rolled into the grounds.

No wonder no-one's seen it
by the track.

He was a lucky brute.

If it was luck.

It's the only place a train would be going slowly
enough to manage it.

It's just possible he chose the spot
very carefully indeed.

But why has no-one at Rutherford Hall
found her?

It could be unoccupied.
So many of our big houses are being sold off.

It is occupied, Jane.
I've just remembered.

Look.

Rutherford Hall. Cook-housekeeper
for Christmas holidays.

Thank you again for my present.

And for yours. I'd hate to run out
of talcum powder in that climate.

Oh, dear.

It's the first time Mr Inch
has been to the airport.

It's the first time
I've been to Ceylon.

I hope the pilot knows the way.

Now, promise me
you won't do anything foolhardy.

I promise. Not on my own.

Oh!

I travel alone

Fair though the places
and faces I've known

When the dream is ended
and passion has flown

I travel alone

Free from love's illusion,
my heart is my own

I travel alone

(Applause)

Quite, quite enchanting, Lucy.

Thank you, Mr Coward.
I'll lay the table.

Not so fast.

A few words of heartfelt appreciation
on your last day.

Miss Eyelesbarrow breezed in
like a whirling dervish a fortnight ago

to rescue me.

Standing in,
not only for my secretary,

but also for my housekeeper.

Clearly, I overpay them both.

In August, she was in Turkey,
looking after a sultan.

Did you know that a sultan's wife
is called a sultana?

Every time I bite into a slice of fruitcake,
I wonder if...

- I'm so sorry.
- Miss Marple?

- Lucy!
- Sorry.

Whoever she is, dear,
speak to her about timing.

This one's for you, Dickie.

- Is that Lord Mountbatten?
- Yes.

Raymond said you wouldn't mind
my coming unannounced.

- I had no idea...
- Don't mention it.

It's lovely to meet you again.

How is Raymond?

You know my nephew.
Footloose and fancy-free.

Like you, Lucy.

And long may it be so.

I do what I do, I see who I see,
I meet who I meet, and it's glorious.

It's lovely to meet you again, but...

Of course.

I couldn't pay nearly your normal rate,
but Raymond said he'd help.

Everything I know about you
convinces me you'll take it on.

- You want to engage me?
- Yes.

Would you like an adventure?

(Laughs) Possibly.

It's quite a challenge.

Very possibly.

I want you to find a body.

Hello. Lucy Eyelesbarrow.

I'm Emma Crackenthorpe.
What a smart car.

Thank you.

- Wow!
- Look at that car.

- Lovely, isn't it, boys?
- Boys?

- Don't touch.
- Come in.

We only occupy this wing now,
my father and myself.

Though, as I said,
there's family for Christmas.

Which is why I advertised.

That was my brother-in-law Bryan.
Alexander's his.

James is a school chum.

You have a sister. I envy you.

Just brothers, me.

Edie died, having Alexander.

I'm so sorry.

Would you wait here?
I'll see if my father's ready for you.

The gobstopper king.

Sorry. David Quimper,
Miss Eyelesbarrow.

Emma said you were starting.

Is someone ill?

Well, not more than usual.

I've given him the once-over,
Luther - Mr Crackenthorpe.

But I really came here
to talk to Emma.

That's Luther's father.

Sir Marcus.
Crackenthorpe Confectionary.

Rotting the nation's teeth since 1881.

You surely had a Nougatine Twirly
in your time.

I don't think so.

Or a Choco-Melty Bar.

Oh, yes. Wasn't I sick?

Miss Eyelesbarrow.

Excuse me.

Thank you... Dr Quimper.

Doctor.

I'm delving for your name.

It has a definite Anglo-Saxon something
about it.

It's not in the Chronicles.
I wondered if I'd seen it in lvanhoe.

Isn't there an Aynseborrow, though,
in Hereward The Wake?

Perhaps you're thinking of that.
Hereward The Wake?

Charles Kingsley.

Yes, I know.

I'll dust off my copy
and have a look.

Has Emma explained everything?

We two manage with a local girl
who comes in most weekdays,

so you won't quite be on your own.

She's twice a week now.

Why is that? Money again?

- Never mind.
(Car pulls up outside)

There's Alfred. I'll go down.

Alfred's my eldest son.

Sponging a buckshee Christmas again.

Who else will be here?

Bryan and the boys and Alfred.

It's a pity you won't get to meet Cedric.

He has to fly off again tomorrow.

He's the only free spirit among them.

He paints in Spain.

Well, lbiza.

If I were younger...

Oh, and Alfred's with Jacqueline,
his girl.

Observe, if you will,
Miss Eyelesbarrow,

the sheer tawdriness
of Jacqueline Briggs.

- There's no-one with him.
- He must have ditched her.

Where's Jacqueline?

Miss Eyelesbarrow?

Dine with us tonight.

I'll be in the kitchen.

For me?

- Just up here.
- Yes.

Just mind your head there. Oh.
See what I mean?

Oh.

Oh, this is perfectly charming, Tom.
And so kind.

I just had a fancy for a change
from village life.

- In Brackhampton?
- There's a Roman wall, isn't there?

Three feet of it
behind the municipal swimming pool.

And an interesting church.

It's not that interesting.

There's a Norman window
in the east wall, I suppose.

I've got a guide book of St Matthews
if you really want to have a look at...

- Not to worry.
- Never mind.

(Car horn honks)
- There's my lift to work.

- We're quite busy, actually.
- Are you?

Will you be staying long?

I did wonder,
have you made plans for Christmas?

No.

Do you know, I'd be delighted,
Miss Marple, absolutely delighted.

Ah.

- Hello.
- Mr Eastley.

The boys want to know if you make
treacle sponge pudding.

You can tell them I'm famous for it.

Can I be useful?

I don't know. Can you?

Scrape the carrots.

What is wrong with Mr Crackenthorpe?

Well, grief mostly.

Despair, his eldest son, his wife.

His daughter.

Miss Crackenthorpe told me
about your wife. I'm sorry.

Sure.

What happened to... Edmund, was it?

U-boat in the Atlantic.
Just after Luther lost Agnes.

Ten years ago last week she died.

- Last week?
- December 4th.

Tuesday.

Yes.

We always gather to remember her.

- Why don't I take this to the trash?
- No, no. No.

Waste not, want not.

That's the one for Christmas dinner.

Mm!
With prune and chestnut stuffing.

Now, that I am famous for.

(Luther speaks Anglo-Saxon)

Anglo-Saxon for, "What an excellent dinner."
More or less.

- Bryan did the sprouts.
- I bet he did.

What will we do for tart
without your precious Jacqueline?

Dad, please.
Don't embarrass Miss Eyelesbarrow.

Jackie and I...

I don't even know where she is
and I care even less.

- Happy?
- I haven't been happy for ten years.

- Change the record.
- I'll play it as often as I want.

Why couldn't we have had Cedric
after Edmund instead of you?

Even Harold would have been better
by a whisker.

What will happen to this place
when I go?

- Don't be so morbid.
- Morbid?

With my space already booked
out there in that mausoleum?

Quite an exciting life you lead,
Emma says.

It has its moments.
I doubt it compares with being a fighter pilot.

That seems a long way back.

I fly a desk now
for an insurance outfit.

Dull isn't the word.

This must be a bit of a come-down
for you.

It suits me very well.
I've an aunt in Brackhampton.

A sweet old thing. I thought I'd see her
occasionally, if I have time.

I'll fetch the apple... tart.
Oh, and there's cheese.

And may I call my aunt?

Of course.

The family were here on the 4th.

The day of the murder.

Where would someone with knowledge
of the estate conceal a body?

Where is Alfred's missing girlfriend
Jacqueline Briggs?

That's what you must concentrate on.

It's in the next chapter,
Miss Hartnell,

but I won't spoil it for you.

Wait until the end.
There's a very ingenious twist.

Bye-bye.

Good night.

It's a shame it's so run down.

I suppose with the war
and sweets still on ration...

Crackenthorpe Confectionary doesn't figure.
Old Marcus sold it off.

Luther inherited this, but has to run it on the
interest from a trust fund he shares with us.

In my case, through Alexander.
It's pretty small change.

Poor Emma won't see any of the fund
when it pays out on Luther's death.

- That's real bucks.
- How unfair.

She's a woman. Luther's hands
are tied by his old man's crazy will.

They fell out. Family stuff.

Well, can't he sell?

No.

Rutherford Hall has to pass to Alfred.

Since Edmund died,
he's the eldest son.

- What's that?
- The mausoleum.

The last resting place
of the Crackenthorpes.

BOTH: Lucy! Lucy!
Hide and seek, Lucy!

Lucy! Lucy! Hide and seek!

That's Miss Eyelesbarrow to you.

She said we can call her Lucy.
Didn't you, Miss Eyelesbarrow?

I didn't say you could scream it.

Will you play with us? Please.

- Please.
- I'll do the sprouts.

- Hooray!
- Hooray!

Then bed.

- 100?
- Yes.

One, two, three,

four, five, six...

(Train whistle shrieks)

There's no fish-and-chip shop
in St Mary Mead,

so I thought it'd be a nice treat.

You always were a bad fibber.

I looked in your larder. I'll shop.

What would I see from my train

where the railway curves
along an embankment?

A large estate and a house?

Rutherford Hall.

Now, that is interesting.

I heard a lecture
at the history society.

Now the place is cut off
from Brackhampton,

but that was the railway.

In 1838, the company offered the family
�900 for a slice of land,

so the railway could keep going
in a straight line.

The representative got a biff on the nose
and was sent packing.

So the track had to skirt the estate
at great cost.

That acreage these days -
I hate to think what that's worth.

Do you know the family?

The Crackenthorpes? No.
The doctor's an acquaintance.

Nice chap. I think he's quite keen
on the daughter.

Are you up to something,
Miss Marple?

Am I?

(Train whistle)

- BOYS: Lucy! Lucy!
- Coming!

I hope you don't mind my asking,
Mr Crackenthorpe, but...

did you never join
the family business?

I had a vision.

I saw my life unfolding before me,

drowning in a sea of sticky toffee

and pretending enthusiasm
for a new line in coconut fudge.

"No, thank you, Dad," I told him.
"I have a soul, even if you don't."

He was a spiteful man,
cut me out of his will.

He made sure his wealth
skipped a generation.

But at least I stood up to him.

Was that before you were married?

Yes, but money didn't mean anything
to Agnes.

She was a wonderful mother.

I stood up to him
and she understood why.

I buried myself in my books

and got the sort of liberal education
he despised.

We were happy, believe it or not.

(Sobs)

(Sobs uncontrollably)

Mr Crackenthorpe.

She's gone.

I'll never see her again.

Jacqueline?

Yes.

May I sit down?

Tell me about her.

She wasn't what you'd call...
beautiful.

But her eyes... One look, you know.

Putty in her hands.

Any man who ever met her.

What happened?

She wanted to finish it.

I begged her not to.

But she wouldn't listen.

I know I'm not a very good sort.
I do know that.

Look, it's never too late to face up to
something terrible.

I can't.

I think you know what happened to her,
don't you?

Tell me.

She's...

She's...

...run off
with Councillor bloody Marchant!

(Sobs)

Wait. You mean... she's not dead?

Dead? No.

I just hope none of them
press charges.

None of whom?

None of the fat, stupid, married pillars
of Brackhampton society,

who looked into Jackie's eyes
in assorted hotel bedrooms

and turned to putty.

Just long enough for me to burst in
and play the wronged husband,

except she really fell for the last one.

Marchant.

That's dreadful.

Heartbreaking.

It was a bloody good little earner.

(Belches)

Oh, excuse me.

I could do with some coffee.

Black.

Make it yourself, Mr Crackenthorpe.

(Hiccups)

Dear Elspeth.

(Sighs)

Oh!

(Low conversation)

Oh.

- Miss Eyelesbarrow?
- Yes.

Detective Inspector Campbell,
Brackhampton CID.

He's taken to his bed again.

It's you I'm worried about.

The police are getting Harold and Alice to come.
And Cedric.

He was supposed to be going back
to Spain today,

but they've called the airport.

What was Miss Eyelesbarrow
doing in the mausoleum anyway?

You suffer from insomnia,

and went for a midnight walk,

then you looked in the mausoleum
to see what it was like.

- No.
- No?

That's what I told Miss Crackenthorpe,
but...

...I was looking for the body.

A friend of mine told me
it was somewhere here.

Why would he or she think
there was a body at Rutherford Hall?

She. A friend of hers
saw the woman murdered on a train.

I know it sounds improbable,
but my friend is never wrong.

Let me guess your friend's name.

Tom's father was the best village constable
St Mary Mead ever had.

Much missed.

I have a confession to make.

I did it.

I scrumped the apples
from the Price-Ridley's orchard.

(Laughs) I know.

But you learnt your lesson,
falling into the nettle patch.

The screams.

I had him down to his birthday suit

and smothered every little bit of him
in calamine lotion.

Now, we have our victim,
but we don't know who she is.

- I wonder if these will help.
- They're very commonplace.

If not to say common.

But thanks to Lucy,
we know she wasn't Jacqueline Briggs.

The family didn't recognise the photos
of the body or so they say.

We're holding back where she was murdered
for the moment.

I'll keep my ears open.

Miss Eyelesbarrow,
you found the body and I'm very grateful.

But I can't let you go back.
You could be in danger.

A victim without a murderer is like...
I don't know what it's like.

I hate to leave a job half done.

And I promised to work at Rutherford Hall,
so I can't let them down.

WOMAN: Do hurry up, Harold.
And, you, be careful with that.

It's Dior.

It's a year's golf club membership
and some good cigars.

Lend a hand, will you?

What? Put my jacket on a puddle
for her ladyship to walk over?

I've no wish to soil my shoes
on your jacket, Alfred.

How long will we have to stay,
Inspector?

We're expected for a Christmas
house party in Suffolk.

Well, that would depend on
the progress of my investigation.

The sergeant will be showing you
some photographs later of the body

to see if any of you recognise
the woman.

- What does it say?
- They think she died Tuesday of last week.

I don't see how they can tell.

Nothing on when she was placed
in the mausoleum.

No idea who she is?

They're appealing for information.

- Cedric, you've arrived.
- You know me.

Can't resist a whodunnit.

Hello.

Haven't seen you before.

- Scrambled eggs?
- Rather.

I was about to board the plane
when I was taken aside. Very dramatic.

They showed me
those terrible photographs.

Did you recognise her?

Sadly, yes.

She was an ex-lover
who never got over me.

Pester, pester, pester.

So I done her in.

(Laughs)

How very amusing.

Well, I'm glad to see that you haven't lost
your sense of humour, Alice, my sweet.

I'll thank you not to use that tone
with my wife.

Don't be so pompous, Harold.

Here we are again,
as happy as can be

All good friends
and jolly good company

- Oh, there you are!
- Dad.

It's all terrible.
There's a flatfoot in the library.

Can you tell me where you were
between five and six o'clock

on Tuesday 4th December?

I was here.

- How did you get here?
- I drove.

Arrived early afternoon.

But the place seemed deserted.

Had a drink or three.

Ah!

And waited.

I drove up to take Emma to Brackhampton
Christmas shopping.

She never gets out of the house.

Boys were due on the Friday.

I knew I'd have my hands full then.

I can't remember
which shops exactly.

Greenford's, I expect.

And Lyle and Swift.
Bryan was with me the whole time.

We didn't get back till gone six.

My father was in one of his moods.

He doesn't much like my going out
in the afternoons.

He shut himself in his room
and wouldn't speak to me.

Was Alfred around when you arrived?

Yes. Yes, he was.

I believe he'd been here
for some time.

I picked Lady Alice up from
old friends of hers and we came on here.

Alfred was drunk.

Ah, you're here at last.

How're the Hendersons?

At the time of the murder,
I was in my studio.

Touching up
Two Se�oritas And A Donkey.

Which is the title of a painting
for an exhibition I have in January.

I lost track of the time,
I missed the evening flight

and I didn't arrive
until the next day.

If it is from her! How do we know?

- She didn't turn up anywhere.
- Quite.

Is that Martine's letter?

They werejust sitting, chatting,
having coffee.

Rather a pleasant change.

I heard a huge row.

No idea what about.

There never has to be a reason.

Cats in a bag.

Cedric or Luther is lying about the argument
the family were having.

However, Alfred's the only one
without a real alibi.

- Do you want me to watch him?
- I want you...

...to be careful of him.

You've got some erm...

That's better.

You, too.

Yeah.

Use some gumption!

Ah, Miss Eyelesbarrow.

Your sister's digging out some red ribbon
for the festive touch.

I've just been checking
your references.

Have you?

Yes, I spoke to Lord Leasely
and Miss Van Moyson.

Everything seems to be in order.

Did you think I'd forged them?

I don't know what I thought,
actually.

I saw you and the Inspector
emerging from the coal house earlier.

Oh, yes. He was asking me
some more questions.

Oh, no. You were far too furtive.

I must say, he's a man of taste.

Was he indulging it?

- Ow!
- Lucy?

Everything OK?

Eastley.

Keep away from him. Please.

I can look after myself, Bryan.

You bring out my protective side,
that's all.

Why is that?

Because you're special.

And beautiful.

Oh.

Well, that's something
to think about, isn't it?

Oh.

Put it back.

David says we should tell the police.

You and your bloody doctor! No!

It would upset father too much.

Have the fox fur
and the compact yielded anything?

- What about the clothes?
- It's on the cheap side.

Nothing special.
There were a few items with Spanish labels.

- Spanish?
- And the compact is French.

I spoke to the manufacturer in Paris.

They don't export.

So she must have bought it
in France.

Perhaps she was French.

Or Spanish.

- Or travelled widely.
- Mm.

- Come on, Stoddard-West.
- Will there be another murder?

We'll listen for clues
down by the lake.

Can't Bryan control those children?
It's giving me a headache.

- Bad enough being cooped up without...
- Leave them alone.

They're looking for clues.

That inspector said the dead woman
might not be British.

- Did he tell you that?
- No.

What, French?

He didn't say.

All I said was not British,
but Emma immediately assumed French.

She looks scared.

Yes, Aunt.

Of course.
But I am really rather busy.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

What were the victim's feet like?

Her feet?

- Why?
- It may be nothing.

But it could be something.

I'll let you see
the postmortem report.

There's Quimper now.

He always pops in for a cup of tea
after surgery.

David!

Join us.

Hello, Tom.

This is Miss Marple.

Jane Marple, Dr David Quimper.

- Nice to meet you, Miss Marple.
- Dr Quimper.

I'm an old friend
from childhood days.

His, not mine, of course.

Are you visiting Brackhampton?

I'm staying at the most charming
guesthouse.

Seeing something of the town.
Catching up with Tom and his doings.

And my niece at Rutherford Hall.

- Your niece?
- Lucy Eyelesbarrow.

She found a body, you know.

I do. Yes.

How's the investigation?

It's nowhere until we've made an identification.
How's Emma?

Taking it in her stride, as usual.

And? You and her?

Pretend I'm not here.

But I do love the scent of romance
in the air.

You're in luck, then, Miss Marple.

Emma and I are engaged.

- I asked her the other day.
- Well done.

- Unofficial. We're not telling the family yet.
- Mum's the word.

Have you known
the Crackenthorpes long?

I just started my practice
down here.

I saw Emma's mother
out of the world.

It's only love that matters.

Love, not money.

Agnes never lived
to see Edmund's wife.

How tragic.

He brought her home
just after she died.

She was so very beautiful - Martine.

And shortly afterwards,
Edmund himself was killed in action.

- Martine?
- She was French.

- What happened to her?
- Doctor?

The family don't know.

Excuse me.

A rather demanding patient,
I'm afraid.

Nice to meet you.

The family does know.

- Or at least one of them does.
- Well, why would he lie?

I think you should ask
Emma Crackenthorpe that.

If our body is Edmund's widow Martine,

why would anyone want to kill her?

Hm.

Shall we fight over the last
cream horn?

Was it David who told you
I'd heard from Martine?

No. In fact, he lied for you.

He said I should have shown it to you
all along.

How did you find out?

It was... my intuition.

It arrived out of the blue
a fortnight ago.

After Edmund was killed,

Martine cut herself off from us,

until this.

She'd built a new life, she says.

But now she wants money
to give her son...

...their son...

some of life's advantages.

We had no idea there was a child.

No address. She just announced
she was coming here to meet everyone.

I telephoned the others
as soon as it came.

- She says she'll come on Tuesday.
- December 4th, yes.

The day you think
this woman was murdered.

- She has a son. The child is family.
- If it is from her. How do we know?

- She didn't turn up anyway, did she?
- Of course not. It's a put-up job.

We only met Martine once,
ten years ago.

Those awful photos.

If by any chance it was her,
how could any of us tell?

Why didn't you mention this?

My brothers didn't want a fuss.

They knew Martine was coming,
but she never arrived.

Not alive, at least, if it was her.

She wanted money.

The trust fund income would be more miserable
if another share came out of it.

Mm. We'll clean the stove tomorrow.

- No, honestly...
- A bachelor kitchen only goes so far,

before it becomes quite unpleasant.

I remember the Brownlows' eldest boy - Cecil.

Of course, he never married.
That's another matter.

You will one day.
I pity your wife, Tom Campbell.

One day, perhaps.

- Ha!
- What?

The eldest son.
The real prize is Rutherford Hall.

That would be worth killing for.

If it was discovered that Edmund had a son,
it would go to him,

the eldest son of the eldest son.

Alfred's an unpleasant specimen.

It would give him a strong motive,
if the body is Martine.

Mm, I suppose it would.

Such a pity I can't meet the family.

I've got the er...
the pathologist's report for you.

Lovely.

Oh, do you know...

I'll take it to bed with my cocoa.

Night-night.

Night-night.

Thank you.

Halfway through chapter one
and they were off.

You, too.

Yes.

- Good night.
- Good night, Lucy.

Harry, my sweet!

ALEX: Dad, we've found a clue!
JAMES: We have, Mr Eastley.

- What's this?
- Look, Dad.

It's a receipt for a dress or something
from Mrs M Crackenthorpe.

Impossible.

Who's Mrs M Crackenthorpe?

- Where did you find this?
- Stuck in the holly bush.

- Can I have a look, old boy?
- The police should see this.

All right, skedaddle, boys.
Find me some more clues.

- You'll have to tell Dad now.
- I can't!

Let's get it out of the way
before Christmas.

The way things are going,
we'll all still be here.

Em, if it was Martine,
then we're all under suspicion.

Alfred has no alibi at all.

Harold has Alice
to swear black is white for him,

and I am lying through my teeth,
as you well know.

Then you're lying too, Em.

Bryan didn't take you shopping
on the day of the murder.

Bryan arrived by train.

I picked him up from Brackhampton Station
just before 6pm.

He asked me to.

And asked you to lie about it?

Oh, I should have telephoned first,
I know.

Lucy says you're all so kind.

I did... I did promise her mother...

I'd keep an eye on her.

Oh! Is that a Gainsborough?

School of. Ghastly.

Biscuit tin stuff.

Who's that other G?

Gauguin.

Ah, now you're talking!

I'm afraid all his yellow
makes me rather bilious.

- This is my brother Cedric.
- Oh.

- How do you do?
- How do you do?

You and Gauguin
have something in common, don't you?

His talent flourished on an island.

Aunt Jane?

What do you do, Mr Crackenthorpe?

A bit of this, a bit of that.

Precious little of either
most of the time.

My family had a Marple once.
Scullery maid.

Interestingly,
Lady Alice is from a very old family...

What does that mean?
We all come from old families.

And I know an Angus Marple.
Owns horses and a castle.

If you know someone who knows someone
who owns horses and a castle, you're laughing.

My brother is.

Job for life
with his father-in-law's company.

- Whatever it is you do there.
- Harold has a responsible position.

Doesn't pay just quite enough, though,
does it, Harry?

You get your bread buttered...

but it's spread damn thin.

Alfred!

Money can be such a thing, can't it?

(Toots horn)

Hello, Tom. Are you on duty?

Yes. Meeting someone. You?

Just delivered twins.
I've a very lovely job sometimes.

David...

what do you make
of Alfred Crackenthorpe?

He's a wreck.

Why? Is he your suspect?

You know I can't answer that.

Emma says...

you asked them all their whereabouts
between five and six.

Mm-hm.

Well... I know where Alfred was.

I saw him in the King's Head.

He didn't tell me that.

He was with old Terry,
the bookie's runner.

He'd hardly tell a policeman he was doing
some illegal betting, now, would he?

Hm.

Thank you, David.

So nice to meet you.

I'm sorry my father wasn't up to seeing you.

I quite understand.
Ooh, I met your Dr Quimper yesterday.

- What a charming man.
- My Dr Quimper?

Your family's.

Oh, yes.

Lucy, won't you introduce me
to your aunt?

We haven't time, Mr Eastley.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

- Has he upset you?
- No.

- He's very handsome, isn't he?
- In an American sort of way, I suppose.

He's certainly very forward.

- Thank you, Lucy.
- What did you find out?

- Enough for now.
- What next?

Elspeth described the woman
she saw strangled

with her hair scraped back
under a band.

Bunions,
according to the pathologist.

And soles like leather.

And her toenails were clipped short.

- So where exactly are we off to?
- Remember little Elsie Elliot,

from Church Lane,
who won a scholarship to ballet school?

She showed me her feet once.

Our victim had dancer's feet,

and she travelled abroad.

And it's Christmas, Tom.

You could stay for dinner.

I've got a patient to visit.

- Are you still here?
- I was just going.

- Not changing, Cedric?
- No.

Wish you could change, though.
Bet Harold does, too.

I've told Dad about Martine.

I don't think he'll be down.

I'm sorry. I thought it was best,

now that the police know.

Well...

good night, everyone.

Here, doc.

What do you charge
for a consultation?

Whatever it is,

it's not enough.

Good evening, brood.

ALEX: I wonder if another body
will turn up.

- I hope not.
- I hope it won't be you. I like you.

- Thank you.
- Dad likes you, too.

I think what he needs is a...
a proper home life.

He needs looking after.

Smells good.

Sorry we won't be able to eat it.

We have to return James
to his mother.

She's just got back from abroad
and seen the papers.

Understandably, she wants him home.

- Can't I stay. It's curry.
- No, you can't.

Keep James company.

Get your coat.

Mmm!

Looks good, too.

Lucy.

It's the onions.

Just go.

TCHAIKOVSKY:
The Nutcracker Suite

(Woman sings along to the rhythm)

Tr�s jolie.

Superbe.

And...

Oh, no, no, no, no!

No, no, no! This is The Nutcracker,

not The Carnival Of The Animals.

You look like an elephant!

Alors. Regardez.

This... parfait.

La-laaa, la-da-da-da laaa...

And then... Rrrrmmm!

The arms like this.
Lightness... With lightness.

And leger.

You're a fairy made of sugar, cherie,
not a dumpling.

(Snorts)
- Be quiet, or I'll crack your nuts.

- Encore.
- Madame.

- Arr�te.
(Stops playing)

Ah. Dix minutes.

When I um...

When I telephoned you,
Madame Joilet,

you said this dancer Anna Stravinska

left after the performance
on December 3rd

and you've never seen her since.

Correct. Our last night at Littlehampton.

A modest venue,
but a standing ovation.

The next night
we opened in Southsea,

but Anna never arrived.

To be frank, she was... getting on.

It's a short life as a dancer.

- If she was a horse...
- She would be... put out to grass?

No, no, Inspector.

I think you say the knacker's yard.

Do you have any idea
where Miss Stravinska might be now?

Girls disappear, especially on tour.

It's not uncommon.

Perhaps she got herself into trouble,
if you understand.

A doctor in the back street.

But no. Not with Anna.

That's not likely.

She's a very good Catholic.

I'm sorry, I can't help you.

Catholic? From Russia?

Russia?

Oh, her name. No, no, no, no.

It's a fashion with ballet dancers.
Anna is French.

- Do you know her real name?
- No.

She had an English husband,
she told me.

Had. Is he still alive?

All I know is
she is no longer with him.

Where did they marry?

London, I believe.

And er... did they have a son, madame?

Lmpossible!

One cannot have a child and dance.

- How was the curry?
- Excellent.

Thank you.

There's nothing like plain, simple cooking,
is there?

- I'll cancel the Savoy, then.
- Harold!

Stop bickering.

I thought the curry was delicious.

It was certainly hot,
Miss Eyelesbarrow.

- After you with the water.
- May I have some, too?

I'll fetch some more.

- Dad, please don't be upset.
- Why not?

I just found out I've got a grandson
I've never seen

and his poor mother's body ends up
on my grounds. Shouldn't I be upset?

I'm seriously thinking
of joining her.

Perhaps grief would unite you.
Not joy.

For God's sake, shut up!

You're so bloody boring, father.

- Sit down!
- Dad!

You're just as bad.

- I thought I could trust you.
- Of course you can.

Can I? Who hid the letter from me, then?

Dad!

Oh!

(Coughing and gasping)

Miss Eyelesbarrow, the curry!

Phone... Dr... Quimper!

(Gasps) Dr Quimper.
I've left the light on.

- You will close the door behind you?
- Yes.

- How are they?
- They're all sound asleep,

probably best for them.

I'll be in... first thing,

just to make sure.

- Good night.
- Yes. Good night, Miss Eyelesbarrow.

MAN: Arrgh!

Help! Help me!

Dr Quimper!

Help! Help!

That was Alfred.

He's dead.

I think it was arsenic.

It's unpredictable,
even in small doses.

His system was weak.

Alfred did drink more in a month
than most of us manage in six.

CAMPBELL: How sure are you?

I kept some of the sample for your lab boys.
They're the experts.

- I dropped it off at the police station.
- Thank you, David.

You're next in line now...

till Harold gets it.

And then it'll be all mine.

(Car draws up)

BRYAN: Stay here.

What happened?

Alfred's dead.

ALEX: Lucy, what's the matter?

- You're not serious?
- You were there when I was cooking.

You made sure Alexander went with you
when you took James back to his mother.

Why would I wanna kill Alfred,
or anyone, for that matter?

Why lie about where you were
when Martine was murdered?

You didn't drive here
to go shopping.

You came by train.
You met Emma once the shops were shut.

- How do you know?
- I keep my ears open, Bryan.

Did you include spying
on your resum�

when you applied for this post?

In any case,
I couldn't have killed Martine.

- Why not?
- I can't say.

- It would mean breaking a confidence.
- How convenient.

You know what,
have it your own way, then.

MISS MARPLE: What about the others?

Is any of them seriously ill?

They didn't need hospital.
Unpleasant.

Quimper thinks
it was probably arsenic.

He took some of the curry to test.

Miss Marple, I have to get...

Oh...

Why would the whole family
be poisoned?

To kill off the weakest member -
Alfred.

Quimper said
he was a physical wreck.

One of them was ready to poison himself
to claim the inheritance.

Or the murderer meant to poison Luther,
but killed Alfred instead.

Possibly.

Lucy's sure she never left the kitchen.

Only four people,
apart from Alexander, came in.

Mr Eastley was first.

Mmm!

Looks good, too.

Then Cedric appeared.

Shall I put some of this in?

Food colouring. A blue curry.

So avant-garde!

No!

She's not sure
how long Harold was there, but...

But it was long enough.

Any one of them could have poisoned
the food.

Even Alfred himself came in
and propositioned her.

Do you fancy
a smart weekend away sometime?

I'm getting my hands
on a nice little bit of cash soon.

No, thank you.

- If you change your mind...
- Watch your head, Mr Crackenthorpe.

Low-flying pigs.

MISS MARPLE: Interesting.

Mm.

Perhaps Alfred was the poisoner,
but his plan backfired.

Mr Eastley left before dinner
and wouldn't let Alexander stay behind.

But Alexander's inheritance would be tied up
until he came of age.

Harold's got most to gain.

There's the house,
as well as his share of the family trust fund.

Harold must be our main suspect now,
Miss Marple.

- Tom.
- What?

Calamine lotion was a long time ago.
My name is Jane.

I'll try.

Sorry.

Are we sure Anna Stravinska
and Martine were...

one and the same person?

Anna was French.
She had an English husband.

She disappeared at the right time.

Then there's that receipt
the boys found.

I think it quite possible it was
Anna Stravinska in the mausoleum.

But it's not the same
as being certain, is it?

- I can't stand it here any longer.
- Don't leave me here, please.

Well, come, then.

- I'm still not well enough.
- Don't make a drama out of it!

Dr Quimper says you're fine now.

That's what he said about Alfred,
wasn't it?

- Please, Harry.
- Oh!

- Yes, Mr Crackenthorpe?
- Call me Harry.

Are you a good comforter, Lucy?

My poor brother.

- I have to get on.
- Yes, we all have to get on, don't we?

That's why I married Alice,
but some things you just can't...

With one's wife, I mean.

Do you see?

You are so unspoiled, my dear.

So lovely.

Come on!

- Stop it!
BRYAN: Leave her alone!

Get out!

There's something you need to know
about Harold.

When Edmund brought
his new bride back...

Bonjour. Thank you very much.

...Harold just couldn't help himself.

He was so jealous
of his brother's happiness.

No.

- I know what French girls are like.
- No!

I wasn't sure at the time.

She told me when we met again
after Edmund's death.

I'm the only one who knows.

You still haven't told me
why you lied.

Which train were you on?

Which train?

I don't know.

- Why can't you trust me?
- I want to.

Just try harder, then, can't you?

He didn't say how long
he kept in touch with Martine,

just that he met her again
after Edmund's death?

Thank you, Lucy.

Alexander's chum James -
what's his surname?

It's a cheat, really.
Size of the glove.

Easier than cricket by a long chalk.

You might tell me
what we're waiting for.

What have you found out?

Information Mr Eastley should have volunteered
but didn't, for some reason.

Perhaps he lacks confidence
in Brackhampton CID.

Oh?

Your chief suspect for murder gets murdered
himself under your nose, for a start.

- Under your nose, to be accurate.
- Don't start blaming me.

- Have you questioned Harold again?
- Why?

Isn't it obvious? He killed Martine
so she wouldn't tell the family

what he tried to do to her
all those years ago.

Without Alfred,
he inherits the Hall.

I'd keep a round-the-clock guard
on Luther.

We don't stretch
to round-the-clock guards.

I'd feel safer.

Had that occurred to you?

You don't have to stay.

I'd have thought you needed
all the help you can get.

We may not be the FBI,
but we always get our man.

- That's the Mounties.
- Or our woman.

Not this one.

- I didn't mean that.
- I hope not.

Here they are.

This should make things
a little clearer.

Jane, Maman est arriv�e!

Martine! What are you doing here?

Bryan.

Good afternoon, Mr Eastley.

We weren't properly introduced, were we?

Lady Stoddard-West has kindly agreed
to clarify a few matters.

I never ever thought
I would set foot here again.

Let's go in, Martine.

Bryan and Edith were so kind to me
after I lost Edmund.

I kept no contact
with the rest of the family.

The memories were painful.

But they stayed in touch,
and when Edith died,

we became even closer.

I moved far away
when I married my present husband,

Lord Stoddard-West.

But my son James stays often
with Alexander for the holidays.

Why didn't you tell me this, Bryan?

I made him promise
not to tell anyone about me.

I swore
I would never come here again.

- But when James told me...
- I was going to call you,

but then with the second murder...

Lucky Miss Marple telephoned me.

I was...

not sure, but erm...

when I heard
James spoke impeccable French,

and you'd met Edmund's widow
after his death...

Well... I was right.

Lady Stoddard-West
is alive and well.

Luckily.

Alfred shut me in there once,
when I was six.

I still dream about it, actually.

A psychiatrist might say
that made you an unpleasant man...

I beg your pardon?

...but I'm a policeman.

- Martine was here.
- Martine?

Then the body wasn't her.

I know what you did to her.

It's pretty disgusting!

Your brother's wife, and him about
to go off and die for his country.

Yes.

They were so happy,
so simply happy, like Mum and Dad.

I've... never been able
to like women.

I may be disgusting,
but I'm not a murderer.

No.

Harold!

I want you!

- We're leaving.
- Does she know?

No.

Take this man home.

Inspector.

Well, the victim wasn't Martine,

so Harold's in the clear.

She must be Anna Stravinska.

But even if we know who she was,
we don't know who she was, do we?

Sorry, do go on.

Has Mr Eastley explained to you
where he was on the 4th?

Or why he got Emma
to cover up for him?

- Was he on the victim's train?
- Bryan couldn't kill.

Even war heroes have been known
to go off the rails.

What about Cedric?
Have you checked on his alibi?

Did he arrive back from lbiza
the day after the murder?

I was intending
to check his passport stamps.

That's a very sound idea.

Thank you, Jane.

Though I always think it best
not to alert a suspect

until one has
the strongest basis for one's questions.

Hm. Me, too.

You could have come to me.

That's what Emma said.

I'd have understood.

Would you?

No.

But I'd try.

I have to now.

Is that the overseas operator?

How exciting!

Yes, it's a number in Ceylon.

Do you think Uncle Alfred died because I said
there's always another murder in books?

No, Alexander, I don't.

Well, I expect you two have got
heaps to discuss. Goodbye.

My subtle son.

He thinks you need
a proper home life.

Look, um... The day of the murder.

Yes.

I was in London
with the bank manager.

One hell of a mess with school fees
and pretty much everything as regards money.

I was going crazy about it all,
took my eye off the road,

shot a red light
and crunched the car.

Not serious,
but I had to get the train here.

Emma picked me up. I didn't want
Alexander getting wind of it.

Oh.

So... which train were you on?

What does your shrink say
about your train complex?

I don't recall. I got into Brackhampton
just before six.

I'll get you a train timetable for Christmas.
Giftwrapped.

- Bryan, I'm sorry...
- It's OK.

You're still special and beautiful.

Oh, and er...

I'm falling in love with you.

But that'll keep.

Yes, Miss Marple?

Some more information?

Yes, let me guess.

Timetables. Maps.

Parallel railway tracks.

Am I... No.

You... Don't come in.
You don't have to come in.

I hope you won't think this insensitive

but I've tickets for No�l Coward's
cabaret opening tonight.

There'll be a party. It might take
all our minds off things.

- How did you get them?
- I worked for Mr Coward briefly.

- I'm not sure.
- How many did you get?

Six. My aunt, of course,
and I asked your father.

But he suggested you invite
Dr Quimper instead.

Did he?

Well, I could see, I suppose.

I suppose I might as well confess.

Confess?

I didn't fly in the day after the murder.
It was the day before.

So you don't have an alibi?

Oh, I do.

I rather overegged my success
as an artist.

I haven't sold anything
for over two years.

And I'm not very good in the sun.

One can't be pale and interesting in lbiza.

Especially if one's not interesting.

Oh, Cedric, dear!

At the same time that woman
was meeting her grisly end,

I was in London,

sitting the Civil Service entrance exam.

- Sadly, though...
- Don't say it.

You flunked that, too.

Oh, no. Much worse.

I passed top.

I'll be pushing a pen in Whitehall now,

instead of...

...flourishing a brush
in the Balearics.

Poor Dad's heartbroken.

Oh...

Congratulations, Miss Crackenthorpe.

"Mum" was meant to be the word,
Miss Marple.

Oh, yes.

David and I are engaged.

Good for you.

Finally.

How refreshingly patient of you,
Doctor.

People do rush into things so,
don't they?

Did you make those sandwiches, Lucy?

Yes, fish paste.

I hope you went easy
on the arsenic.

Oh, David.

Don't be so silly, everyone.

(Chokes)

Scrumptious.

Oh!

(Groans)

Miss Marple?

A fish bone.

Let me see.

Excuse me.

Whoops. Don't panic.
It's all right. Breathe normally.

Breathe normally.

Argh!

Yes! Yes!

That's him. Yes!

That's the killer!

Come on, Doctor.

David Quimper,

I'm arresting you for the murder of
Alfred Crackenthorpe and of Suzanne Belene,

also known as Anna Stravinska...

...your wife.

David?

It's not true.

You were married in London
on April 10th 1939,

at St Luke's Church, Marylebone.

She trained as a dancer.
You had a practice in Camden.

You separated before moving
to Brackhampton,

but she was a Catholic
and wouldn't agree to a divorce.

It wasn't patience that kept you

from asking Miss Crackenthorpe
to marry you.

You had to choose
between bigamy and murder.

You silly old woman.

I'd like to seek
a second opinion on that, Doctor.

Oh, you brute!

Oh, yes. That is the man I saw

from the 4.50 from Paddington
on December 4th,

strangling a poor, terrified woman to death!

EMMA: No!

Come on, David.

I did it for us.

Budge up.

Elspeth McGillicuddy.

- How was your flight?
- Only for you, Jane.

Well, then?

- I am so very sorry.
- I have to know.

I imagine it was money she wanted
when she contacted him.

Her career was coming to an end,
after all.

Perhaps she hoped
for a reconciliation.

Whatever the reason,
he made his plans

and invited her down
to talk things over.

Then he pushed her out.

Later, knowing the family
were inside,

remembering Agnes,
he took the body to the mausoleum.

He knew it would be discovered
eventually,

which is why he sent that letter,
supposedly from Martine.

Suspicion would fall on the family,
not him.

Why try to give Alfred an alibi,

saying he saw him at the King's Head
at the time of the murder?

He was really giving himself an alibi.

He knew Alfred would be dead
by the time Tom checked up.

So it was Alfred he meant to kill
when he poisoned us, not Dad?

Oh, yes.

He had the greatest respect
for both your parents.

He would have waited for you
however long your father lived.

Why kill Alfred?

I believe Alfred
was blackmailing him.

He'd seen something
which only made sense later.

He'd seen him plant the receipt he'd written
with Martine's name on it -

a clue for the boys to find,

now that the body had been discovered
earlier than he had anticipated.

- Where did you find this?
- Stuck in the holly bush.

He said he was expecting money
when he came into the...

I'm getting my hands
on a nice little bit of cash soon.

But Quimper was never
in the kitchen.

How did he get the arsenic
into the curry?

- He didn't.
- The police laboratory tested it.

He added the arsenic to the sample he took
before he gave it to the police.

I'm just going.

It was the cocktail he poisoned.

With just enough to make everyone
unpleasantly ill,

so that he could administer
the lethal dose to Alfred.

He couldn't have. I was there.
I heard Alfred shouting for him.

You heard Alfred shouting at him.

Quimper. Argh!

Help me!

Doctor Quim...

...per!

Help me!

Doctor Quimper! Help!

QUIMPER: That's Alfred.

It's of no comfort.

But it was a crime born of love.

It's only love that matters.

Have you booked your flight back?

I'll not bother.
It's all a bit sticky.

- Oh. How was Roddy?
- Thriving.

I met his new lady friend.
She was a decent sort.

There's a girl who's spoilt for choice.

There's a girl who travels alone.

- I'll take your bags.
- No need. I can manage that, Mr Eastley.

Alexander said
you needed looking after.

I guess I do.

Then I...

I hope you find someone, Bryan.

Truly.

But I'm not always right.

- Happy Christmas.
- Happy Christmas.

- Jane.
- Tom.