All language subtitles for Miss Marple S01E06 - A Murder is Announced part 1

Your tea in his mouth.

Thank you, dear.

A very pleasant young man.

Really.

For a foreigner, I suppose.

Artie, there's going to be a murder.

Bloody man, Neru. He's too clever by
heart. That's his trouble.

Jolly good.

I said, there's going to be a murder.

What time?

Seven o 'clock this evening.

Short notice.

A murder?

and will take place on Friday, October
5th, at Little Pat at 7pm.

That's evening.

Friends, please accept this, the only
intimation.

What do you think it means?

It means a drink.

Bad sherry.

People don't announce murders.

Marriages, yes, but not murders.

Put that dreadful paper down and have a
look.

It isn't a dreadful paper.

You're not even a worker.

I'm writing a book.

I mean real work.

Well, some sort of party, I expect.

Artless and rather boring, bright young
things staying at little paddocks.

They'll pin pieces of paper on you and
then draw lots.

And somebody's the victim and somebody's
the detective.

Then they turn out the lights and
everybody screams.

Bourgeois escapism, Mother.

The opium of the people.

Friends accept this, the only
intimation.

Sounds very exciting.

Sounds extremely tedious.

Nonsense, Edmund. I'm going and you're
coming with me.

Opium. Surely there won't be opium.

Morning, John.

Morning, Mark.

Good morning.

Good morning.

I'm mad. Isn't it scrumptious?

What time did you say it was?

Seven. Yes, at Little Paddock's.

I have a confirmation class.

Oh, what a shame. And you do so love a
good murder.

May I see?

Yes, it's there. In amongst the second
-hand pianos and old teeth in Cocker

Spaniel.

It really is an extraordinary
announcement.

So uncharacteristic of Miss Blacklock.

Patrick, is this your doing?

No, indeed, Aunt Betty.

Whatever gives you that idea?

I thought it might be your idea of a
joke.

I can think of much better jokes than
announcing murder in the local rag.

Julia? Of course not.

Do you think Mrs.

Haynes? I don't think Aunt Philippa
would try to be funny. She finds it

difficult enough being serious.

Or anything.

Then obviously some sort of silly hoax.

But why?

Bunny, there's nothing to get worked up
about.

It's obviously somebody's idea of
humour.

Today?

Today?

At seven o 'clock?

What do you think is going to happen?

Easy. The angel of death will spread his
wings on the blast.

I'll tell you exactly what's going to
happen. At seven o 'clock this evening,

half the village of Chipping Claycomb
will be banging on the door of... Gog

curiosity.

I'd better go and see if there's any
sherry in the house.

Poor Lottie.

She's so worried.

Two words, five letters and six letters.

Terminal stiffening of sinews.

Rigor mortis.

Of course.

Good old rigor mortis. I wish you
wouldn't talk about things like that.

Oh, Hannah, we shall need a bottle of
sherry for this evening. I'm expecting

visitors. I will not be here this
evening, Miss Blacklock.

What do you mean?

I am giving you my notice, miss.

There is no need to give notice.

There is need, Miss Blacklock, in a
newspaper.

They are coming to kill me.

Nobody is coming to kill anybody. It's
just a joke.

Murdering people is a joke.

In England, everything is a joke.

In Europe, killing people is not a joke.

That is why I escaped.

I promise you, my dear, you are
perfectly safe.

You promise?

If nobody was going to murder you,
they'd hardly advertise the fact in the

newspaper.

Perhaps in England they would, but
perhaps it is you they mean to murder,

Blackmore.

You've had the central heating lift,
Aunt Betty.

The whole house felt clammy.

Our precious, precious coke.

Well, if neither that or our even more
precious coke.

I can remember when there was plenty of
coke.

Plenty of coke.

Plenty of everything.

Was this in the olden days?

Oh, yes, my dear.

Hello.

Is there a party?

Welcome to the scene of the crime.

Is it a joke?

I'm very stupid when it comes to jokes.

Indeed.

There is to be a murder in that room in
about a quarter of an hour.

Here you see the funeral wreaths and
here the funeral supper.

I don't understand.

Read this.

I was explaining.

It'll be quicker and quieter if she
reads it for herself.

I must go and lock up the duck.

I'll do it.

Certainly not. Last time you did it, she
didn't put the latch down properly.

I've read what it says, but I still
don't understand.

Nor do we.

Great fun, isn't it?

You don't really think anyone will come,
do you?

I shouldn't think so.

Village people are very inquisitive, you
know.

Well, I know for a fact there's a brand
new bottle of sherry on the premises, so

that won't go to waste, whatever
happens.

Shall I fetch you to be on the safe
side?

I think Lettie wanted you to move that
table into the bay.

Work, work, work.

Will it never cease.

Oh, thank you, Patrick.

And when you've done that, would you be
very kind and fetch... And fetch the new

bottle of sherry from the pantry.

My pleasure.

Yes, that's better.

How is that better?

Well, we're prepared for guests, but we
don't look as if we're expecting guests.

And we all give a lovely performance of
a quiet evening at home and put on looks

of total astonishment if anybody drops
in.

Precisely. I do hope nobody drops in.

Somebody at the door.

Mr and Mrs Borgia from along the road.

They brought their own bottle.

Patrick, do you think you could make a
huge effort and behave yourself?

I'll make a huge effort, and we'll see
what happens.

Here is Colonel Estabrook and Mrs.
Estabrook. Thank you, Hannah.

What a lovely surprise.

Well, good evening.

Good evening.

Happened to be passing.

Quite a mild evening.

Central heating on? The whole house felt
clammy.

Wow.

Lovely chrysanthemums.

A bit scraggy, in my opinion.

We haven't started ours yet.

Your chrysanthemums.

Central heating.

Miss Murgatroyd and Miss Hinchcliffe.

Good evening.

Thank you.

Evening. Good evening.

Good evening.

Such a lovely evening. We came out for a
stroll.

I said to Murgatroyd, why don't we pop
in at Little Paddocks and see how the

ducks are laying?

It's lovely and warm in here. Have you
got the heating on already?

Yes. I'm told the house felt clammy.

Well,

this is jolly nice, isn't it?

Bang on.

Bang on? Is that what they say nowadays?

I'm afraid so, Colonel.

A Mrs.

Fentonham and a Master Fentonham.

Here we are.

Indeed, we are.

Just pop in to see whether you might be
interested in a... in a kitten.

A kitten.

Our cat is just about to... Be blessed
with issue.

Farther unknown, but probably various.

The result will certainly be a monster.

Edmund. You sit down, if it's welcome.

Jolly warm in here. He put the central
heating on. It seems the house is a bit

clammy.

Bet you never had that trouble in India,
Colonel.

The odd flood during the monsoon. No
clamminess to speak of.

Mrs. Harmon.

Hello, everyone.

Hello, Mrs. Harmon.

Hello, Miss Blacklock.

I'm not too late, am I? When does the
murder begin?

No, you're not too late.

Everybody's still intact.

Oh.

Julian's simply frantic with rage. He
can't be here.

He adores murder.

He writes some of his best... when he's
in the middle of a good thriller.

You know, with four or five decent
corpses littered about the place.

Oh, sorry.

I'm talking too much. No, no, you're
not.

When's the murder going to begin?

Well, if it's going to begin, it ought
to happen soon.

It's just one minute to seven.

Well, time to pour the sherry, I think.
Patrick?

Yes.

Philippa, a beer, dear.

What do you mean, if?

I've really no idea. I know no more
about it than you do.

Oh.

Well, now.

Yes, perhaps a cigarette.

or a lighter.

Archie, take me home. Try the switches,
Swetnam.

They're off at the mains. Or a fuse.

On my way.

That cannot be me.

The teller seems to have knocked himself
out. Serves him right.

He's locked in.

Phil's just landing the fuse.

Oh, thank God there's somebody
sufficient in this house.

Wait a minute, you're close. Look at the
fellow.

Good God.

What is it? The man's dead.

It was just the one fuse gone.

Oh. Better see who it is.

Anyone know him?

Never seen him in my life.

Nor me.

He looks very young.

Do you think he shot himself?

Could have been an accident.

If he tripped over that cloak thing.

You know him?

You do?

Lettie.

It's that young man from the spa hotel
at Meddenham Wells.

The one who came asking you for money.

So it is.

He might have killed you.

He came here to kill you, Lettie.

He did.

Chase Bunny into the dining room and
give her some brandy.

Julia, run upstairs to the bathroom and
get some stinking glasses. My blood

seems to be upsetting everybody.

Patrick, ring for the police.

Rudy Schertz.

Swiss nationality.

Employed here as a receptionist.

Yes, this is... he.

How long had he been working for you,
Mr. Rowlandson?

I took the liberty in checking in my
files before we arrived.

Until over three months.

Good credentials, references, permits,
etc.

Would you like to have a look at these?

I'll take your word.

Ah.

Was he satisfactory?

Quite satisfactory, Inspector.

That sounds to me like a negative
judgment.

It's purely conjectural.

What is?

Well, there were a couple of
misunderstandings about the bills.

Items charged oughtn't to have been.

We assumed it was carelessness,
inexperience.

But it wasn't.

Well, you now tell me that he was some
sort of criminal.

So I suppose he could have been trying
to cheat our customers.

But it's still different from an armed
hold -up.

Any women in his life?

One of our waitresses.

Name? Myrna Harry.

You were friendly with Rudy Fats?

I didn't know what he was like when...
We don't know what he was like.

I want you to help me find out.

Well, you always think that anybody who
works on reception is bound to be all

right. I mean, they're very careful when
they employ people, especially

foreigners.

Was he with a gang?

We think he was working on his own.

He was a lovely dancer.

Nice to go out with best seats at the
pictures and bought you flowers and...

I'm sorry he's dead.

Thanks.

Stuff's been going missing, you know.
What sort of stuff?

From rooms.

A diamond brooch, I think.

And a little gold locket.

Might not have been him.

Might have been me.

But it wasn't.

You liked him?

Yeah.

He talked big, mind you.

If I got used to that during the war,
the Poles were bad enough.

The Americans were even worse.

How did he compare to the Poles and the
Americans?

He talked as big.

He said he came from a rich family in
Switzerland.

Only he couldn't get his money here on
account of the currency regulations.

That's what he said.

He didn't wear rich clothes.

Very ordinary.

Not... real class.

You know?

I know.

And he saved all kinds of people from
certain death in the Alps.

I don't believe that either.

Did he ever mention Miss Blacklock?

I don't think so.

She sometimes comes here for lunch.

So you might have met her, but... Did he
ever mention the village of Chipping

Claycorn? I think he asked me about the
buses once.

What town I went.

I'm not sure if it was Chipping
Claycorn.

Might have been some other chipping.

Look round here.

I wouldn't have gone out with him if I'd
known he was a crook.

I'm so sorry you're dead.

Oh, good morning, Inspector Caddy.

You've checked the house, Fletcher?

Sir.

No fingerprints, no signs of forced
entry, but the doors seem to be left

unlocked most of the time anyway.

Sure, it seems to have come from
Meddenham on the bus. It arrives in

Clegghorn at 6 .30.

Why did the lights go out?

Well, the drawing room and the hall seem
to be on the same circuit, if you can

organise for them to fuse at exactly 7 o
'clock.

You're a better man than I am, Gunga
Din.

As you might say, sir.

Tell me about the people who live here.
Miss Blacklock?

I think she's all right, sir.

Miss Bunner, is it?

Light woman, sir, but with respect, a
bit scatty.

Patrick Simmons?

Fancies himself as a joker.

Julia Simmons?

Just fancies herself.

Philippa Haymes?

I haven't met her yet, sir. Out at work
all day.

Good.

Pretty garden.

This is the room in which the incident
occurred?

Yes, but he tied it up, of course.

Such a mess.

Cables knocked over, people barging
about in the dark, and a nasty cigarette

burn. But that seems to happen all the
time, you think? Bunny, I think we

just answer Inspector Craddock's
questions.

Thank you, Miss Blacklock.

Tell me when you first saw Rudy Scherz.

Was that his name?

Yes.

Well, it was about three weeks ago.

We went shopping for the day in
Meddenham Spa.

We had lunch at the hotel.

He came over to our table and said that
he was the son of the proprietor of the

Hotel des Alpes in Montreux, where my
sister and I stayed during the war.

Did you remember him? Oh, no.

I mean, all these boys' reception desks
look exactly the same.

And then he came to see you?

Yes, ten days ago.

He had some absurd story about his
mother being dangerously ill and needing

money to get back to Switzerland.

You didn't give him any money? Certainly
not.

Very wise.

I was secretary to a financier for many
years.

I know all about hard luck stories and
appeals for money.

When he came here, did you sense that he
might have been spying out the land, so

to speak?

You mean casing the joint?

Yes, that's what I mean, Miss Bunner.
Yes, it is quite possible.

I remember he took a keen interest in
the house.

All that elaborate nonsense.

The advertisement in the newspaper.

I really don't understand any of it.

Do you keep much money in the house? No,
a few pounds, no more.

Jewellery? Well, a couple of rings and
brooches.

These cameos. There's really nothing
worth stealing.

It was revenge, Inspector.

Letty refused to give him the money, and
he came here to kill her.

That's where he shot at you, Miss
Blacklock? Oh, just a scratch.

Made a lot of blood, but... Tell me what
happened.

Well, the clock struck.

Seven o 'clock? Yes. And then the lights
went out.

And next?

The door opened.

Which door?

That door.

What about that door?

Oh, no, no, that one's never used.

That's just a hangover from when this
was two rooms.

So, this door opened, and... Well,

there he was.

A man with a revolver. A masked man with
a revolver.

And I thought... Well, I mean, we all
thought that it was just some silly

And then he said something.

Hands up or I shoot!

Something like that.

Did you put your hands up? Oh, yes.

It seemed like part of the game.

He shone his flashlight in my eyes.

It dazzled me.

I began to get annoyed about it.

And then?

Well, then there was the first shot.

Somebody screamed, I think.

And then I... Yes, I felt the pain in my
ear. You see? It wasn't just the

scratch.

Where were you standing, Miss Blacklock?

Over here, by the table.

I was reaching for the cigarette box.
And look, there are the bullet holes.

He was trying to kill you.

You tell her, Inspector.

She won't believe me.

And having failed to shoot you in the
darkness, he then turns the gun on

himself? Obviously.

Do you think it's obvious, Miss
Blacklock?

No, of course I don't, Inspector. I
think it's absolutely ludicrous. He

the sort of man to shoot himself.

Or anyone else, for that matter.

Oh, Bunny, will you please take those
away? I hate dead flowers. I picked some

fresh yesterday.

Even flowers don't last the way they
used to.

Is Miss Banner a relation of yours? No,
an old friend.

We were at school together.

About a hundred years ago.

Companion. We keep each other company,
Inspector.

And the other people who live here?

Patrick and Julia.

They call me Aunt Lettie, but they're
actually distant cousins.

Oh, sorry.

Aunt Laura's wandering around saying the
police want to cross the town on

everyone. Is that so?

This is Julia.

Since you're kind enough to volunteer,
Miss Simmons.

Inspector Craddock.

And this is Sergeant Fletcher.

We've met.

Have you finished with me for now,
Inspector?

I think so, Miss Blacklock.

Oh.

Will you be speaking to Hannah?

Hannah is? My cook.

She screams a lot.

A poor girl is a refugee.

Nationality? Aye, after that.

She said, I do not know. I have not read
the papers today.

Please don't be prejudiced against her,
Inspector, just because she tells lies.

There are a lot of atrocity stories
around now.

But I think there is a real core of
truth in some of hers.

I can't help feeling sorry for her.

And she is a very good cook, when she
feels like it.

I shall bear all that in mind, Miss
Blacklock.

Thank you.

Would

you

like to tell me about last night?

I told your Sergeant Fletcher.

He wrote it all down.

I'd like you to tell me.

Well, a lot of tiresome people called
round.

Who? In order of arrival.

Colonel and Mrs. Easterbrook, Miss
Hinchcliffe and Miss Murgatroyd, Mrs.

and Edmund Swetnam, and Mrs. Harmon, the
vicar's wife.

They all said the same things.

What lovely chrysanthemums, and I see
you've got your central heating on.

But Mrs. Harmon, she said what everyone
else was thinking.

What times the murder.

You like Mrs. Harmon?

She's the best of the bunch.

And then?

The lights went out, and this man walked
in and said, stick them up, you guys,

or something equally ridiculous.

Then the shooting started.

It wasn't ridiculous anymore.

Was the only light from the man's torch?

Yes.

And from what you could see, when he
fired the shots, Was he aiming at Miss

Blacklock?

From what I could see, I shouldn't think
so.

A revolver in one hand, a torch in the
other.

Having to keep that silly door open,
everybody all over the place, he'd have

well hit anyone.

If he really wanted to take a pot shot
at Aunt Lettie, I can think of a

better ways of doing it.

Stand behind a hedge anywhere around the
village and do it. Bang, like that.

Understood. But to fill the room with
all the friends and neighbours, put that

silly advertisement in the newspaper,
it's more like a student rag.

You're a student, I believe, Miss
Simmons.

I'm training as a dispenser at
Milchester General Hospital.

But if I'd planned last night as a joke,
I wouldn't have filled the room with

colonels and vicar's wives.

And if you were planning a murder?

I'm a dispenser.

I'd mix a lethal potion.

Quick and clean and quiet.

Should I make a note of that?

Better not.

In case anyone else pops off in
suspicious circumstances.

Is your brother at home?

No, he went out somewhere.

He's a student too, did you know?

Really?

Milchester University, reading
engineering.

Occasionally.

He's a bit of a waster.

I like him, considering he's my brother.

And I believe he was quite heroic during
the war.

I might have a word with Hannah in that
case.

Crazy foreign cook?

An obvious suspect, Inspector.

All my life I am pursued by men in
uniform.

I escaped to England thinking I would be
safe.

Still I am pursued by men in uniform.

We're not here to arrest you. You're
not?

I just want to know your version of what
happened last night.

Last night.

I see the announcement in the paper, and
I know I am going to be murdered.

I try to leave, but she will not let me.
She is a very strong woman.

Miss Blacklock?

Yes. The others are silly, but she is
strong.

You stayed, and then what?

The doorbell rings.

I answer the door.

The doorbell rings again.

I answer the door again.

The doorbell rings again. I answer the
door again.

After the people had arrived.

Oh. I go to the dining room to clean the
silver.

I hear shots.

I scream.

I try the door. It is locked.

I scream again.

Somebody turns the key and lets me out.
I scream again. Somebody hits me.

I see blood.

You scream again.

Are you going to arrest me?

Not today.

Gosh.

Am I too late for the sleuths?

Mr. Patrick Simmons.

Am I under suspicion?

Well, there is a feeling that placing
the advertisement in the newspaper was

your style of joke.

It is the sort of thing I go in for.

Habitually.

Occasionally.

At some point, we'd like your version of
what happened last night.

It'll be as confused and contradictory
as everybody else's.

In that case, perhaps you'll let us know
where we'll find Mrs. Haynes.

Oh, Philippa.

She works at J .S. Hall.

Assistant gardener.

I know her.

Along the road to the left.

Philippa doesn't say much.

She's nice, in an anonymous sort of way.

Not the murdering kind.

But then nobody is.

Somebody must be.

Unless the fellow shot himself.

Peculiar way to commit suicide.

Equally peculiar way to commit murder.

So, what is your conclusion?

It's easier being a...

engineering student and a nice
detective.

You arrived home at what time last
night?

About six.

I had a bath.

Got changed, then found some sort of
party was about to happen.

And when you arrived home, which door
did you use?

The side door. I'm generally a bit
mucky, so I never use the front door.

Was the door unlocked?

Yes, I locked it when I came in.

I see.

Tell me about the hold -up.

The lights went out exactly as the clock
was striking seven.

The door opened and this man shone a
torch on us and flourished a revolver

told us to put our hands up. Which you
did.

No, I didn't, actually.

I thought it was just fun.

And I'd been working all day, so I
thought, bother it, I'm not putting my

up.

You were bored by the whole thing.

Yes, I was, rather.

Where were you standing?

By the mantelpiece. I was looking for my
lighter.

When the man shone the torch around the
room, did you get the sense that he was

looking for somebody?

No.

He wasn't looking for anybody?

Thinking about it since it happened, he
did it in a vague sort of way, just

waved the torch about aimlessly as if he
hadn't the faintest idea what he was

there for.

When you saw the body, did you know the
man?

No.

But then I can't really afford to eat at
the Royal Spa Hotel.

That being so, presumably, you don't
keep any valuable jewellery at the

I wish I could.

There's my engagement ring and a couple
of brooches.

Are you aware of anything valuable in
the house?

Not what you'd call loot.

Some quite nice silver, but nothing out
of the ordinary.

Miss Blacklock likes to wear her strings
of pearls.

But they're just costume.

I'm sorry to be so unhelpful.

Patrick says I'm too sensible for my own
good.

It's not a bad thing being sensible, Mrs
Haynes.

And he stood there.

A shadowy figure with a revolver. And
that blinding torchlight sweeping around

the room.

And he said, your money or your life.

He didn't say anything of the thought,
Mother.

I've never enjoyed myself so much for
years.

Until the bullet started.

Then it was quite dreadful.

Do you know where you were standing when
this happened?

I've no idea.

Where was I standing, Edmund?

I don't know.

Do you remember who you were speaking
to?

Either Mrs. Harmon or Colonel Eastbrook.

I think.

Edmund? I haven't the faintest idea.

Do you remember who you were speaking
to?

I was in the middle of the room, talking
to Julius Simmons.

When the man shone the torch, did he
hold it still or move it around?

It was right in my eyes for ages.

I couldn't see a thing. He moved it
around slowly, so as to see what we were

doing.

Three shots.

were fired. Two of them hit the wall,
one of them injuring Miss Blacklock en

route. The third killed the intruder. Do
you think it was suicide or an

accident? It certainly seemed to me like
one of those.

Though I did say to Edmund it felt more
like murder.

Except that doesn't really make sense,
does it? You've just told the inspector

that it was all three.

Don't be silly.

Murder, suicide and an accident. I'm
simply trying to be helpful.

And I appreciate it, Mrs. Whitman.

Psychology. That's your answer?

Psychology. Got to understand the
criminal mind. What leads him to put the

advertisement in the paper?

Psychology. Wants to draw attention to
himself.

Probably had a rough time at the spa
hotel. Other members of the staff

down on him because he's a foreigner.

Yes, can easily happen.

Chances are some pretty girl turned him
down. He wants to win her affection.

How will he do it?

You'll be the tough guy.

The gangster. The masked man. The gun.

The hero.

Sort of Robin Hood with an audience to
play to. Robbery with violence.

Steal from the rich.

And it all goes wrong.

Absolutely. Put the words right out of
my mouth. The crucial moment comes.

Loses his nerve.

Panics. Shoots blindly in all
directions.

You thought he shot blindly?

Oh. No doubt about it, a room full of
people, he manages to miss the lot.

Suddenly it becomes real to him.

The dream becomes a nightmare.

Can't face the truth about himself.

He tries to put an end to it all.

Psychology.

Isn't it wonderful, Inspector?

The way Archie knows exactly what
happened.

Yes, Mrs Easterbrook.

Wonderful.

Do you like pigs, Inspector?

I love them.

Make a nice rusher by Christmas, this
one.

Look, I'm sore.

Well?

What can I tell you?

Anything you remember about the incident
last night.

Incident?

We used to have incidents when I was in
the ARP during the war.

Saw some incidents that would make your
hair curl.

Enjoyed every minute of it.

You mean where was I when the shooting
started?

Yes.

Leaning up against the mantelpiece,
hoping to God somebody would offer me a

drink.

Tell me about the shots. Were they fired
blindly or aimed at one particular

person?

No idea.

The torch was whirling around, dazzling
everybody.

And the shots were fired.

And all I could think was it was that
damn fool Patrick up to his silly game.

You thought it was Patrick Simmons?

Process of elimination, really.

Edmund Swettenham, some sort of
intellectual communist, writes books,

soft, if anything.

Old Colonel Easterbrook isn't much of a
one for jokes, but Patrick was wild

enough for anything, though not robbery
with violence.

What about your friend Miss Murgatroyd?
Did she see anything?

Murgatroyd!

She's up a tree.

There won't be much help.

Listen to her, by all means.

Don't take too much notice.

Is it Scotland Yard?

Inspector Craddock from Milchester.

Oh, even better.

Have you found any decent clues?

All he wants to know is where you were
when the crime took place.

Oh, dear, of course. I ought to have
been prepared.

Alibis.

Now, let me see. I was with everybody
else.

You weren't with me.

I remember that girl screaming and a
voice saying, put them up, please.

Stick them up.

And he certainly didn't say, please.

I'm sorry I can't be more helpful. I get
so confused. It's all such a blur.

Is there anything else you want to know?

No, I don't think so.

The inspector's already made up his mind
about you, Margaret, right? No question

of it.

Well, I'll say anything that'll help, if
it's likely to help.

I think you'll find the vicar's wife
more value than the two of us put

Inspector. We're more used to pigs.

You've both been extremely helpful, and
I'm very grateful.

Thank you.

Oh, Hinch, was I very awful.

I get so flustered.

As usual, you were quite astonishing.

Well, you see, I hate being dazzled.

So when he shone the torch, I shut my
eyes.

And I hate loud noises. So when he fired
the shot, I shut my eyes

even tighter.

It should have been a quiet murder.

When did you open your eyes?

When I was quite sure that the bangs had
stopped.

Some people were out in the hall with
candles.

Then the lights came on and everybody
was normal again.

People in the dark are quite different,
aren't they?

What did you see when the lights came
on?

The young man.

Shirts. Is that the name?

Yes.

dead with a revolver beside him.

You're so young and surprised.

It doesn't make sense.

All this in chipping Clegghorn.

I agree.

Except I have to make it make sense.

They all tell different versions of the
same story.

Even if they told the same version, it'd
still add up to nonsense.

An important question, sir.

How good is your typing?

Rough, but accurate.

Good.

The Chief Constable likes accuracy.

I'll try not to disappoint him.

Now sit down, Craddock. Thank you, sir.

Anything new since you wrote this
report?

Information from the Swiss police.

Scherz had a criminal record.

Ah.

Petty thieving, falsified entries,
checks.

That is honest, ma 'am.

But in a small way.

Well, don't small things lead to larger
things?

I'm not sure, sir.

Well, it seems very clear to me.

Scherz travelled by bus to Chipping
Clegghorn.

Evidence of a conductor and two
passengers.

He got into the house.

probably simply by opening the front
door.

He held up the company, assembled by
placing an announcement in the local

newspaper, which we know he did,
evidence of the cashier in the Gazette

He then fired three shots.

Two go into the wall, and one goes into
him.

Well, in my practical world, that means
that a coroner's jury is going to bring

in a verdict of suicide.

or accidental death.

Either way, we can draw a line across
the ledger and turn to the next page.

I have the feeling that that silence
indicates that you disagree.

I disagree, sir.

Why?

I don't know exactly.

Offer me a theory.

Miss Bunner insists that Sheth intended
to murder Miss Blacklock.

Is Miss Marra a reliable witness?

Utterly unreliable.

She's a very sweet, slightly scatty old
lady.

But she's totally sincere.

And it's all her own idea.

Nobody's put it there.

And she insists.

A personal question, Craddock.

How do you get on with scatty old
ladies?

I have nothing against them in
principle, sir.

Good.

Because there's one thing at the Royal
Spa Hotel.

For Miss Marple, Miss Jane Marple.

She's an old friend of the Henry
Cibbering.

His opinion is that you should take Miss
Marple into your confidence.

Sure, you're a reporter, you like.

She's entirely trustworthy.

Well, thank you for letting me through
there, Inspector.

Any observations, Miss Marple?

Yes. But may I digress a little first?

By all means.

I should like to show you something.

I'm staying here for a few days, taking
the spa waters.

Rheumatism, you know.

Oh, well, of course you don't know, but
when you're my age, I'm afraid perhaps

you might.

Of course, I couldn't afford to stay
here, but I have a very generous nephew

called Raymond. Now then, here we are.

A check?

Yes.

He altered it.

He? The young man who worked at the desk
and who is now, I understand, dead.

You see, it was for seven pounds and he
altered it to 17.

A stroke in front of the seven and a
teen added to the word seven.

Yes. Very neatly done. A certain amount
of experience and practice, I should

say.

As you say, very neatly done.

Well, the bank sent me my cheque this
morning and I noticed it at once.

What made you notice?

Oh, I... I never write a cheque for 17
pounds.

But you do for seven?

Oh, yes, quite often.

Of course, what struck me was that the
young man had a shifty eye.

A shifty eye?

Yes, the kind that looks straight at you
and never blinks.

It reminded me of Fred Tyler.

Should I know Fred Tyler?

Oh, no. No, no. He worked at the fish
shop in my village.

Always adding an extra one to the
shillings column.

You know, people very rarely check their
bills.

Fred Tyler would look people in the eye
and smile and then steal enough money to

take Jesse Sprague to the pictures and
buy very loud ties.

Well...

As you suggested, you were quite right
in your diagnosis.

Rudy shared his head over.

More coffee?

No, thank you.

Miss Marple?

No, thank you, dear. I shall last until
tea time now.

Thank you.

Have you talked to her, Inspector?

I'm sure you have.

Yes, I did.

Well, talk to her again, because I think
there's more to come.

She brought me kippers this morning
instead of headings and forgot the milk

You see, he may have told her who it
was.

I'm sorry, who what was?

Well, who it was put him up to it.

You think somebody put him up to it?

Well, I... Yes, I think that's obvious,
don't you?

Well, to be truthful, that's not all
that obvious to me, Miss Popple. Oh, I'm

sorry.

Yes, well, do forgive me, but you see,
here is a personable young man.

If he filters a little here and there, a
petty thief likes to show off to the

girls. Then suddenly he goes off with a
revolver and holds up a whole room of

people.

We should never have done a thing like
that.

But we have witnesses to say that he did
precisely that.

Oh, no. You have witnesses to say that
he flung open the door and shone a

And pointed a gun at them. But it was
dark.

How could they possibly have seen the
gun?

You mean... I mean, they thought they
saw a gun. They heard shots. They heard

him say, stick him up, or words to that
effect.

And then afterwards, they saw the gun
lying on the floor, but they couldn't

possibly have seen the gun when he first
came into the room.

Which means somebody else fired the
shots.

Well, that's logical.

The same person who persuaded Rudy
Schertz to put the advertisement in the

and to...

burst open the door, shine a torch and
say those ridiculous words.

You're telling me to look for a Mr X?

A Mr, Mrs or Miss X, I should say.

You know, Inspector, some of the best
murderers are women.

Especially in an English village.

You turn over a stone, you have no idea
what will crawl out.

But somebody who wanted to kill Miss
Blacklock.

Well, it has that appearance.

You've turned my entire investigation
inside out.

Oh, I am so sorry.

I didn't mean to interfere, Inspector.

May I... May I cause you yet more
trouble?

If you like.

May I change my mind and have some
cheese and biscuits?

And talk to that girl again, Inspector.
She's very frightened.

Frightened? Someone shot Rudy Scherz.

Somewhere in Chipping Cagall, a killer
is at large.