Original subtitles

Make the most of what we yet may spend before we too into the dust descend.

That's right, dear. Enjoy yourself.

What lamp has destiny to guide her little children stumbling in the dark?

Well, as a neighbour then?

No, I see that.

Well, a little note then, madam.

Just informal, you know.

Yes, you could do that.

I don't advise it, but you could do that.

No, I really do think... Not at all, madam.

Thank you, madam.

Yes, sir.

What can I do for you?

My name's Margolis.

Rupert Margolis.

I wondered if you could tell me, how does one go about finding a cleaning

woman?

Well, sir, the office is the Ministry of Labour, only five minutes from here.

Job centre, they call it.

Straight down York Street, next to the Red Star Garage.

Yes.

Or you could put an ad in the local rag, or a card in the paper shop window.

Yes, I'm...

Bad at this sort of thing, you see.

Normally my sister would see to it, but she went away on Tuesday.

Well, at least I suppose she did.

Well, you see, that's another worry.

I mean, I seem to be quite bogged down with care.

Job centre.

That's what you want, sir.

I wonder what Anne would do.

Oh, that I couldn't say, sir.

Yeah, I mean, it's just not like her to go off and leave me in a mess like this.

I mean, I knew she was going to a party, but... There aren't any messages for me,

Sergeant. I'm going over to Sowingbury. No messages, sir. I did hear Monkey

Matthews was out.

Sorry, my speak.

Oh, Mr Burden.

Good afternoon.

Nasty cold day, Mr Burden. Don't hurry it, pal. I've got all afternoon.

The bracelet is valuable.

All the things my husband gave me were very good.

Depends what you mean by valuable, then.

I'll tell you what I'll do.

I'll give you 20 quid for the lot.

I don't be stupid.

I couldn't possibly.

Suit yourself.

Now then, Mr. Burden, what can I do for you?

It's stolen water with glass.

You haven't seen any of it, then?

I already told your lad. It don't mean nothing to me.

I'll have a look anyway.

What?

Hang on a minute. Don't start screaming, Brooke Warren. It's too cold for that

malarkey.

I don't handle nothing doubtful, Mr. Burden. You know that.

Come off it, Nobby.

Not anymore, I don't.

I've got nothing to tell her.

Monkey Matthews is out.

Tell me something I don't know.

Dora?

Oh, come in, Mike.

He's in the sitting room.

How are you, Dora?

Fine, thanks, dear.

How are Jane and the children?

Oh, fine, fine.

Reg?

It's Mike.

Mike?

Is it beer time, or is it still tea time?

Oh, what do you think, Mike? Oh, I'm easy.

Well, then, beer, please, Dora.

Thank you.

Anything come up?

No, not a thing.

Is the entire population of Suffolk to go straight or what?

We'll be out of a job by Christmas at this rate.

Monkey Matthews is out.

Oh, really?

Our last hope.

Good heavens.

He was in the station today.

Do you mind if I turn it up a bit?

I hope so.

This picture, Dawn of Nothing, was recently bought by the Paint Gallery.

As well as paint, Margolis uses coal dust, gum and tea leaves in his work.

What was he doing in the station?

Looking for a home help.

Oh, we're a domestic agency now, are we?

Askia, he and his sister Anita have made their home in Sussex.

Margolis works in a 16th century studio, the converted living room of Quince

Cottage, Kingsmarkham. And it's here that he's given birth to his

masterpiece, which is called, with that mixture of savagery and whimsy so

typical of the man, nothing.

He's also mislaid her.

Anita, a former model and engaged with the novelist Richard Fairfax, is now

devoting herself to furthering her brother's career and can often be seen

round and about King's Market. I've never seen her.

Once seen, never forgotten, nice thing.

We're nearly out of beer, Reg.

Oh, that won't do.

Thank you.

What are you watching?

Local Celebrity.

She's an interesting looking girl.

35-year-old with a striking mane of dark hair. What a frightful coat. She is the

Anne of Margolis Portrait.

for which he was offered £15,000 by a South American collector.

Does she live round here?

They both do, she and her brother.

What are you looking for, Sheila?

You've got the collected plays of Sheridan, haven't you?

Top shelf, nearest the door.

Read by me.

So, once again, the balmy climate and cosmopolitan ambience of Sussex have

attracted one of the most prominent young artists of today to come and make

his home among us.

What do you mean, mislaid her?

While he was talking to Cam, he mentioned that apparently she went off

to a party on Tuesday night and he hasn't seen her since.

Tuesday?

What's the matter, Reg?

Are you sure it was Tuesday?

That's what he said.

So, since when have we got all steamed up because a single girl, a good

-looking, probably rich girl, takes it into her head to go off with a

boyfriend? Since now.

Since this morning.

Since this.

It's anonymous.

Read it.

A girl called Anne was killed in this area between 8 and 11 Tuesday night.

The man who'd done it is small and dark and young and has a black car, name of

Jeff Smith.

That's why we're getting steamed up.

Yes.

What do you want? I must leave.

Kingsmarkham Police, Mr Margolis.

Inspector Burden.

Have you come about the cleaning woman?

No, sir, I haven't. I've come about your sister.

Who?

Where is she?

Well, that's what we want to find out, sir.

You don't want to come in, do you?

If it's not inconvenient.

If

I

find the matches, I'll take you a cup of coffee.

Anyway, there was an enormous pile of newspapers here.

And I had to pick them up and throw them outside the back door before I could

find the matches.

There are about 15 boxes underneath.

God knows where they are now.

And things just disappear.

Here.

Oh.

Good.

Should I heat this up, do you think?

It's got mold on it.

Yes, but if I boil it... I wouldn't chance it if I were you.

I suppose not.

Now, let me get this straight, Mr. Margolis.

Your sister, whose name is Anita or Anne, was going to a party given by Mr.

and Mrs. Cawthorn of Cawthorn's Garage in Stoughton on Tuesday night.

Yes.

And when you got home at 11, having been out since 3, she was gone. And her car

also. Her white Morgan sports car, which is usually parked outside in the lane,

right?

It might.

Now, you left the back door unlocked before I went to bed, yes?

Yes.

But you were awake shortly afterwards by Mr. Cawthorn telephoning to ask where

your sister was.

And I was asleep.

Cawthorn's a terrible old boy. I never speak to him unless I have to.

So you weren't at all concerned?

No, why should I be? I thought Anne had changed her mind and gone somewhere

else.

Then, at about one o'clock...

You were awakened again by lights passing across your bedroom ceiling.

These, you assumed, to be the lights of your sister's car, since no one else

lived in Pump Lane. But you didn't get up.

No, I was exhausted. I'd been in London all day.

Your sister had been here when you left at three.

Yes.

Yes, and I went out to London to see this fellow about a show I'm having.

A show?

An exhibition of my work.

Oh, you are a bunch of philistines down here.

Anyway, this fellow insisted on giving me dinner after our talk.

He's a fearful old bore and he got very tedious sitting there listening to him

talk. That's why I didn't get up when I saw Anne's car lights.

I mean, I'm exhausted with all this travelling about.

I'm being bored.

Now, you found her car on the lane yesterday morning?

Yes. All wet and revolting, with the new statesman plastered all over the

windscreen, and the newspapers I'd thrown out were all over the garden.

You couldn't get someone to clean them up, could you, or get the council to?

No, sir.

No.

It's so difficult to get anybody to do anything these days.

Didn't you go out at all on Wednesday?

I don't think so.

I was working, and I... I sleep a lot at odd times, you know.

No, I thought Anne had come and gone.

I mean, she never leaves me like this without a word.

What does she think she's playing at?

God.

Let's go up to the studio.

What about the copy?

What?

Oh, uh... Bring it if you want it.

That's her, isn't it? Your sister.

Yes.

Jolly good.

Bloody marvellous, actually.

You can sit down if you want.

Mr Margolis, in cases like this...

It's normal practice for us to ask the relatives just where they think the

missing person might be.

Where do you personally think your sister is?

Mr Margolis.

What? Please try and concentrate there.

Where do you think your sister is?

Oh, with one of her men friends. I should think she seems to have dozens.

Well, I would think so, except for the note.

Note?

What note?

A note about your sister?

No.

That's the point.

There isn't one, and there should be.

She's always popping off like this, but she wouldn't disturb me if I was working

or sleeping.

Mind you, I don't seem to do much else apart from working and sleeping.

Go on.

Well, she always leaves a note for me in a very prominent position by my bed or

propped up somewhere.

Quite a long, detailed note, usually, telling me where she's gone and who

she's gone with.

Oh, God.

That'll be very old Russell Cawthorn. He keeps bothering me, wanting to know

where she is.

Yes?

Russell Cawthorn. What? I speak to your sister.

No, she's not here.

I don't know where she is. I thought she might have come back.

I've got the police here, if you must know.

Yes.

Yes, yes.

I'll be seeing you.

What? I'll be seeing you.

What do you mean, you'll be seeing me? We never see each other.

No, I just meant... I just meant... Oh, well... Oh, God.

Why isn't Anne here?

You mustn't upset yourself, Mr Margo, Liz.

Upset myself?

But she's so selfish sometimes, leaving me here at once for the telephone.

It was from Braddon's after all, sir.

They're over the only cell pads in what they call drawing block.

Same texture.

Same watermark.

Well, it's identical, sir.

Braddon's get this specially from a place in London.

Of course, a special order.

Yes, sir.

Just for the one customer. A Mrs Adeline Harper lives at Waterford Avenue in

Stoughton. Nice residential address.

Big houses.

She's away, though, sir.

Take a long Easter holiday, according to the neighbours.

The only what you might call a servant she has is that a char goes in Mondays,

Wednesdays and Fridays.

Do you think she could be our letter writer?

It's hard to say, sir.

It's not like a council estate or a block of flats where everyone knows

everyone else.

They keep themselves to themselves.

This char's been seen going in and out, but nobody knows her name.

And if she had a way of snapping up unconsidered trifles like expensive

writing paper, the neighbours wouldn't know about it.

All the neighbours know, sir, is that she's middle-aged, surely dressed and

cut ginger hair.

Does she go in while her employers wait?

She does, sir, and today's Friday, I know, but she'd gone before I got there.

She only goes in mornings.

I wonder if it could be blackmail.

I don't quite follow, sir.

That's because we always think of blackmail as being successful. At any

rate, successful for a time. But suppose it wasn't successful at all.

Suppose our ginger-haired woman tried to put the squeeze on Jeff Smith and he

wouldn't play.

Then, if she was vindictive, she'd carry out her threat.

Blackmails always are vindictive, sir. A nasty, spiteful thing, if ever there was

one. It's worse than murder, sir.

Here endeth the first lesson.

We don't get many of these with such low mileage.

Once people get them, they're inclined to hang onto them.

It's very nice.

I really want to talk about it, though.

Oh, my dear lady, this car's gearbox is so smooth, it might just as well be.

It's lovely.

Larry Dennison has two, as a matter of fact, just for pottering about these

days. I'll feed these two gentlemen. Have a very good look.

Rupert Markham, isn't it?

Yes. And I'm Inspector Burton, King's Markham Police.

Thank heavens you chaps have been called in. I've been a bit worried ever since

Tuesday night.

Yes, I'd like to ask you a few questions about that night, Mr Cawthorn.

By all means, by all means.

Let's go up to the house. You can speak to the men as well.

Thank you, sir.

I'll tend someone to look after you, Mrs. Larimer, if you'll excuse me.

They think it's the latest fashion, all this junk.

And Cawthorn must be 60 and his wife's a hag.

And mad about young people for some reason.

Anybody under the age of 90 would think they had all this stuff new for wedding

presents. Hello, Ruth.

Our stranger.

What's all this about Anne, then?

We hope you may be able to help us, Mrs. Cawthorn.

You gave a party on Tuesday evening to which Miss Margolis was invited, didn't

you? Yes.

She dropped in in the afternoon and said she'd be sure to be here.

And she never turned up? I've been damn worried, I can tell you. Glad you chaps

have been called in.

Dickie Fairfax came all the way down from London just to see her.

They used to be friends.

Very close friends, I may add.

Fairfax the writer?

Yes. He was rather peeved when she didn't turn up. He drifted off at about

11. But he'd been here all evening?

No, he was here all right.

Came in on the dot of eight. Started on the hard stuff right away.

You're so mean, Russell. Mean and jealous.

Just because Anne preferred Dickie.

Anne and Russell have a sort of thing.

At least, that's what he gives himself.

Anne gave Dickie the out months ago. There's somebody else now. I'm trying to

remember his name.

Not Geoff Smith, by any chance.

All right, that's all for the moment.

Thank you for your help. Oh, I don't want that help.

I'll be lost without her, Rue. If there's anything Russell and I can do to

help. Nobody else has ever been able to do anything.

Poor Rue. Who's going to look after him?

He's such a...

Absolutely. You're brilliant, Russell.

He knows absolutely nothing about art. I don't pretend to, my dear.

I'm just a silly old duffer. Leave all the clever stuff to you ladies.

I'm looking for a Jeff Smith who might be a friend of Miss Margolis.

I dare say he might, old boy. But I've never heard of him.

She's got a lot of boyfriends. Would you include yourself among them?

Are you married?

Yes.

Horrible business, isn't it?

Growing old together.

Horrible.

Still, stay young as long as you can.

Live it up a bit.

Keep going. Go around with young people.

That's half the battle.

Did you go around with Miss Margolis, Mr. Cawthorn?

Once.

Just once.

Took her out to dinner.

Comfort.

A chariot and forest to tow.

The waiter knew me.

He'd seen me there with my wife.

Will your daughter have the smoked salmon too?

That is true, isn't it?

Just clothes, sir.

No letters, diaries, nothing.

Just clothes.

Mr. Margolis, if your sister left of her own accord, she'd have taken some

clothes with her. Will you come and take a look? Tell us if anything's missing.

I really wouldn't know.

Anne's always buying clothes.

There's no raincoat here, as far as we can see, sir.

Was there any cats and dogs too, as you know, sir?

Sometimes she takes clothes with her and sometimes she doesn't.

She's quite likely to have gone out just as she was and buy anything she needed.

She'd have had money on her then?

Oh, yes. One of her cheques came on Monday.

What cheques are those?

Well, she has this money of her own.

My father couldn't stand me.

He left all his money to Anne.

They paid out regularly every three months.

Do you know how much this cheque was for?

Yes, of course I do. I'm not a half-wit, you know.

It's always the same, £3,000.

And she had this cheque on her?

No, she cashed the cheque as soon as it came and put the money in her handbag.

£3,000?

She set off to go to a party with £3,000 in her handbag?

She might see something she wanted to buy when she was out.

I

don't know.

I don't know.

It's my girlish business, Reg, it's beyond me.

Why, because we haven't got a body?

All we've got is an anonymous letter and a girl who might or might not be

missing. I mean, apparently she goes off to a party with 3,000 pounds in her

handbag.

Yes, I suppose that's an old question.

You could say that.

Yes, and the women I know, they keep their money in the bank.

I mean, you saw her on television.

She looked like a decent class of girl, fashion model and all that.

But you should see the state of the place they live in.

I mean, it's not as if she's got anything else to do.

Well, perhaps she doesn't like housework.

Oh, no, that's not the point, is it? I mean, we all have to do things we don't

like.

I mean, she's 28 or something.

Why isn't she married?

Why hasn't she got a job?

You see, a decent woman wouldn't let everything go like that.

You'd be saying she deserves everything she gets in a minute.

No, no, I wouldn't say that.

Of course not.

Well, sir, you got any luck with the charlady?

No.

Not yet, but I've advertised.

Have you now?

Yes, I have.

I've got an advertisement in the newsagent's window.

You know, I wrote it on a little card.

You know, they give you the card and everything.

And they even helped you with what to write on it.

Get away. It's true.

I don't know why people spend all this money advertising in the Times when this

way is so cheap.

Oh, Mr. Burton, a gentleman to see you.

Mr. Margolis. I've got some good news.

Oh? Well, you remember you asked me who Anne had been going about with since

Fairfax got the elbow?

Oh, yes, yes.

Well, I've remembered.

Well, that's good, sir. Yes, isn't it?

I'm not as bad as all that, am I?

Nobody said you were, Mr. Margolis.

So, who is it?

Alan. Alan something.

Yes, he's got no money and he's very provincial. I don't know what she sees

in him, but Anne is inclined to go slumming, if you know what I mean.

Alan something.

Yeah. No, no, it's Alan Fitz something.

It's not exactly Fitzwilliam, but it's something like that. Fitz...

Fitzherbert. Well, I don't know. I've only spoken to him twice, and that was

enough.

Right. Well, thank you very much for information, sir. I tell you who might

know, though.

Mrs. Penniston, our late char.

Why don't you go and ask her?

Mrs. Penniston?

Yeah. Thank you very much, sir. Where's Mrs. Penniston?

She got red hair.

I don't know.

She always wore a hat.

But wait a minute. I can't tell you where she lives. Yes, I remember,

because I took her home once when it was raining.

And it's on Glebe Road on the left, over the bridge by the river.

And there's a pillar box just before you get there.

Aye, and the curtains downstairs.

They're a sort of... Well, thank you. Thank you very much indeed. I'm sure

we'll find it.

Good.

Morning, Sheila.

Morning, Dad.

Your toast there, Reg.

I've brought you tea.

Who's going to butter it for me?

Dad. Yes, Sheila.

Mum and me have been talking.

Mum and I.

Reg, look, Dad, I want to get my own flat.

Oh, yes.

I mean, travelling up and down to London every day, it's exhausting.

And if the train's even five minutes late, I'm late for a car.

Well, why don't you get an earlier train?

Well, I have to get up at the crack of dawn, as it is. She does have to get up

very early, Reg.

Why are you both behaving as if I'm an ogre?

You think it's a good idea too?

Well, it's a possibility.

How much would it cost?

Well, there's this girl at Rada. She's got this flat I could share with.

It's £45 a week.

£45?

That's including everything.

Well, except electricity and gas.

That's £22.50 each.

No, that's £45 each.

My season ticket's £120 a month anyway.

You're talking about £180 a month, plus gas, plus electricity, plus food.

I think it would be saving in the end.

I think you learnt your economics at the same school as your mother.

What about this girl? What do you know about her?

She's very nice.

Tell you what, we'll talk about it at the weekend.

Only we've both got more time, right?

How's the governor?

Never so bad with his bag.

Hasn't let his bed since Friday.

Matches? Yes, please, dear.

That's £1.60.

They're nasty backs.

You thinking of letting your spare room again?

I hear you're a young man, sir.

Good riddance, I'd say.

No, I couldn't take on another one, not with Mr Grover laid up. Linda and me

have got enough in our hands as it is.

Yes, sir?

Independent, please.

It's all gone, I'm afraid.

Unless there's one outside.

Bye-bye, Mrs Benson.

It's raining again.

I don't know where it all comes from.

The sky.

Very funny.

We'll get soaked down there.

How's her boyfriend?

Is there one?

Good-looking girl like you would get away.

You're very interested in those cards, I must say.

What's so fascinating about a load of secondhand junk?

I don't mind secondhand things.

Yes? Is it Peniston?

You're not Jehovah's Witness, are you?

Police officer.

Oh. Better come in then, dear.

Jeff Smith.

No, that don't ring any bell.

But William?

No.

But Mr Kirkpatrick.

Would it be him?

Yes, it might be.

Don't mind me getting on with this, dear. Only my boys will be in in a

minute. Do you know anything about this Kirkpatrick?

He lives in Pomfret somewhere.

It's funny you should ask about him, really, cos it was on account of him I

left. Oh? How come?

Well, I don't see why I shouldn't tell you.

Missing, you say?

Oh, well, don't surprise me.

Wouldn't surprise me if he'd done her in like he said he would.

He did, did he?

He did.

In my very hearing.

See, I was there one day... Wait a minute.

Tell me about her first.

What you thought of her. That kind of thing.

Nice enough, girl.

No sigh to her.

First day I went there, I called her Miss and she just screamed out laughing.

Oh, Mrs Fee, darling, she said. Call me Anne. Everyone calls me Anne.

Got her head screwed on the right way, mind.

Very sharp way she has with the tradesmen.

Didn't mind paying for the best, but woe beside you if you didn't get it.

Oh, you'd have to get up very early in the morning to put anything over on her.

A bit different to him.

What, Mr Margolis?

Well, I know it's easy to say, but I reckon he's mental.

All the year I was there, he never had a soul come to see him. Paint, paint,

paint all the blessed day long.

And when he was done, you couldn't see what it was meant to be.

I wonder you don't get proper discouraged, I said to him once.

No, there ought to be a place for them to go, didn't there?

Poor soul.

His mind's definitely affected, never mind the rest of him. You say this

Kirkpatrick threatened Miss Margolis?

That he did.

Oh,

hang on a minute, dear.

There you are, then. All right.

Can't get a word out of them till they've got a meal inside them.

Now, you wanted to know about Kirkpatrick.

Let's see, where are we now, Friday?

Well, it would have been last Wednesday week.

Mr Margolis had gone down to Devon for a painting holiday.

I'd come in a couple of days before and I said to her, where's your brother

then?

Dartmoor, she said, and that I could well believe.

Though Broadmoor'd be a bit more his mark.

Anyway, two days later, on the Wednesday afternoon, there come this knock at the

door. And when she opens it, there's this Kirkpatrick standing there.

Good afternoon, she says, sort of cool, but ever such a funny way I can't

describe.

I was in the dinette cleaning the silver.

And after about five minutes, they come through, and I hear them go upstairs.

at his paintings i said to myself in my ignorance because there's paintings all

over the place there even in the bathroom well after about half an hour

they come downstairs again and i hear them start this arguing what were they

arguing about i'm just going to tell you that dear for god Hey, don't drool all

over me, Alan, she says.

Love, she says, I don't know what that is. If I love anyone, it's Rupert.

Rupert being her mental brother.

Well, then he flies off the handle, starts shouting at her. All sorts of

horrible expressions are used that I couldn't repeat.

But she never turns a hair.

I'm not ending anything, darling, she says.

You can go on having what you just had upstairs.

Well, I can tell you, dear, the blood rushed straight to my head.

The last time you set foot in this house, Rose pannied on, I said to

myself.

Well, my boys are very particular. They wouldn't want me going where there was

immorality.

But then he said to her, you're asking to get yourself killed,

Anne. I might do it myself one of these fine days.

And then?

Well, he went off in a huff, didn't he?

I could hear her calling out after him, Don't be silly, darling.

And don't forget we've got a date Tuesday night.

Tuesday? Would that have been last Tuesday?

Well, yes, it must have been.

People are funny, aren't they, dear?

Business-like as they come, she is, and good, too, in a sort of way.

Collecting for Oxfam and sick animals and all very hot on what she called

injustice.

All the same, she was carrying on proper with this Kirk Patrick.

There are two Jefferson Smiths in Kingsmarkham.

One in Stoughton and two more in Sowingbury.

The one we're looking for is young, small and dark, right?

The only dark one is six foot two. The only one under 35 has a blonde beard.

And none of them owns a black car.

What about this Kirkpatrick you threatened him?

Well, it would be different if we had a body. We could pull him in and question

him. As it is, all we've got is an anonymous letter that doesn't even

mention him.

It names Jeff Smith.

We could make a few inquiries, of course, about Kirkpatrick, discreetly.

Tell the truth, I'm beginning to wonder if this whole thing isn't a world goose

chase.

But why would anyone write a completely meaningless anonymous letter?

Don't ask me, Mike.

And I still don't like the idea of her going off with 3,000 quid in her

handbag. It's a very nice one to go on holiday with.

Another word in here.

Yes, what is it?

An advert from Grover's window.

Thought we might be interested in it.

Quiet, secluded room to let for evenings.

Suit student or for that special evening.

Privacy guaranteed.

Apply 85 Charteris Road, Stoughton.

Grovers again, eh?

Last year it was Curious Books.

Six months before that we had to warn him about those flick knives he was

selling. It's getting more like Charing Cross Road every day.

And those magazines he sells.

How would you like your daughter to read them?

Well, they're not for daughters, Mike.

They're for thuddens.

But before we convene the purity committee... Let's just deal with it

out.

You're a likely lad, Mark.

You look the part.

Is somebody in?

I don't think there is. We can't break the door down and force an entry over a

thing like this.

Somebody's coming.

Mrs. Ruby Branch.

Used to live in Sowingbury.

One of our customers?

Oh, we've had her for shoplifting.

Larson, he's a servant and buries other things.

This is a new departure, though.

All right, you'd better get into your stuff.

Can I help you?

I understand you have a room to let.

Where do you hear that, love?

I saw your advert in Grover's window. No names, no petrol, are they?

Just call me Ruby.

Don't take any notice of the bare boards, love.

I'm just giving the carpet a bit of an air in.

I can see you keep it nice.

When did you think of coming?

Any night would be convenient for me.

You'd be bringing a young lady.

If that would be all right.

I thought, um, perhaps this evening.

Say 8 till 11, would that be all right? I'll have my things on by 8 sharp.

If you just tap on the door, you needn't bring the young lady in till I'm gone.

Some do feel a bit shy, like.

Say a tenner.

Oh, no!

I'm a police officer, and I have reason to believe you're engaged in keeping a

disorderly house.

I only did it to make a bit extra, Mr Burton.

You just can't make ends meet these days.

You were blonde last time I saw you, Ruby.

Well, I don't need your permission to tint my hair, I hope.

Still working for Mrs Harper of Waterford Avenue, are you?

If it hadn't been for you, I'd still have my job in the supermarket.

What's happened to the carpet?

Not many working women would find time to wash a big carpet like this.

Go over it with a damp cloth, maybe.

Don't touch that. You'll let the old lot down.

Now look what you've done.

Now I'll have to do the old lot again.

No, you won't.

The only people who are going to touch that are the boys from the forensic lab.

All right, you can come down now.

I never made any harm. I was scared.

I thought maybe you'd pin it on me.

Get me Fabina, what's it?

An accessory. Good idea. Maybe we will. Oh, my God!

Oh! No!

No! No!

No!

No, you can't make me go in there!

Not with him!

No!

Keep him away from me!

Who away from you? Him!

Why, what's he ever done to you? That's what he might do.

What do you think he is, then? I know who he is.

I saw him before, peering over a wall.

He's Jeff Smith.

Isn't he?

You never saw them, you see.

Well, come to that, I never saw the girl.

This is Jeff Smith.

When was the first time you saw him?

Last Saturday.

Saturday the 3rd.

The day after I put the advert in, in the morning, about 12, there was a knock

on the door and there was this young chap wanting the room for Tuesday night.

He was dark and he was so nice looking and he spoke nice.

How was I meant to know he was a killer?

My name's Jeff Smith, he said.

Proud of it he was, because I never asked him for his name.

He said, 8 till 11.

And I said it'd be ten pounds.

He didn't argue.

So I showed him off the premises and he got back into his car and drove off.

What sort of a car was it?

I don't know.

Black. No, blue.

I don't know about cars. When did you see him next?

Like he said, the Tuesday night.

He just gave me my ten pounds and said he'd be gone by eleven.

And when I got back, he had gone.

Now, I've left that place like a new pin.

I mean, as good as the hotel it was. I doubted the court would look on that as

a mitigating circumstance.

Well, they'd messed it up.

Moved the furniture, even.

Of course, I started putting it to right. Spare me the asides, Ruby. I'm a

detective, not a domestic science examiner.

Well, I have to tell you, don't I? I have to tell you what I did. Tell me

what you found.

Blood.

I moved back the sofa and there it was.

Great big stain.

I know I should have come to you, Inspector Wexford, but I panicked.

I mean, I was dead scared. All those convictions you've pinned on me, they're

bound to get me for an accomplice or whatever it is, I thought.

And then there was him, Jeff Smith.

I mean, it's all very well you saying you'd have looked after me.

But you and me, we know what that amounts to.

You wouldn't have put a bodyguard on my house night and day.

I was scared stiff.

Come to that, I still am.

Where does Matthews come into all this?

I was all alone.

Oh, it was awful.

I kept going to the window to see if a little dark fellow was watching the

house. He's killed one girl, I thought. The odds are he won't think twice about

finishing me off.

George and me, we'd always been good friends.

Who's George?

Mr Matthews. Oh, monkey.

I never cared for that nickname.

Well, a woman needs a man about at a time like that.

Heard he'd come out.

I found him in the piebald pony.

Well, she wanted someone to... protect her.

Can I have another fag?

I mean, I hadn't got nowhere to go, being as my wife let me in the house.

My dear Mr Burden, I don't know as I would have gone back with Ruby if I'd

known what was waiting for me.

I mean...

I'm no bloody bodyguard, if you will pardon my French.

Have you got a light?

It was blood on the carpet, all right.

I mean, I didn't believe it at first, of course. Well, you know what women

are. How much blood?

Oh, a lot.

Nasty it was, like...

As if someone had been playing silly beggars with a knife.

I really was scared this Jeff Smith

might come back. She wouldn't have come to you. Well, that's no bloody use, I

said. Not after all this time.

But not being one to flout the law when it's a question of real downright crime.

I decided I'd better just drop you a hint that there was a body knocking

about. So I wrote to you.

The paper you wrote the letter on, where did you get that?

That was Ruby's. Ruby always says nice things.

Usually other people's.

There's no call for that, Mr Burden.

I was trying to be helpful.

I mean, I knew you would only need a hint to get your hands on him.

Anyone first thought was our local police, I always say, no, that Mr

Wexford and Mr Burden, they are real educated tip-top men.

They would be up in London at the yard if there was any justice in this world.

If there was any justice in this world, they could put you away for the longest

stretch you've ever done.

Don't tell me I go out of my way to help you with your inquiries?

And where's it got me? It's got you a nice, comfortable room to keep down in,

for one thing.

Maybe you were putting the squeeze on this, Jeff Smith, and you only went out

of your way to help when he wouldn't play.

That's a dirty lie.

I never even saw him.

I thought that young bloke of yours was him, didn't I?

God knows, I used to reckon I could spot a copper in my loft, but these days they

tog themselves up so funny.

It's not fair.

Ruby and me were scared stiff, and then suddenly there he comes, poking his long

nose over the wall. I thought my number was up, I'll tell you.

Put a squeeze on him.

Mr Bird didn't. How could I put a squeeze on him when I had not set foot

in Ruby's place till Wednesday?

I need another fag.

You want to leave your lungs to medical science?

Yeah.

I've been a mass of nerves ever since I saw that lad.

When did you write the letter?

Oh, Thursday morning.

One of them was out working.

So you were all by yourself then?

Well, I would not put in Mr Jeff Smith through the third degree if that's what

you're getting at. No, I leave that sort of thing to you.

How did you know what to put in the letter?

If you try to trap me, you'll have to be a bit more bloody souled than that. Come

on, be your age.

Well, Ruby told me, of course.

She says he's young, dark, got a black car, and his name's Jeff Smith.

All right, Monkey.

But how did you know the girl's name was Anne?

How did you know the girl's name was Anne?

Jeff Smith didn't tell you the girl's name.

How did you know?

How did Matthews know?

Told you all I know.

I don't believe Ruby's lying.

Late in the day, though it is, I think she's scared stiff and throwing herself

on our mercy.

Good morning. Morning.

Morning.

Morning, sir.

Forensic not here yet? No, not yet, sir. I believe they'll be here soon.

Why would Anne Margolis bring a boyfriend to a place like this?

Why wouldn't she just take him home with her? Like Margolis said, she enjoyed

slumming. Pardon me, sir. I've been talking to the lady next door. Mrs.

Collins. She thinks she saw something Tuesday night.

Right. We'll go and talk to her.

Should we do something about the Margolis store for the next appointment?

Yes, we should, Mr. Burden. Quite right.

There's an Alan Kirkpatrick who lives over Pomfret Way, Sergeant. Get over

there in the morning and find out what sort of a car he drives.

Think of some story.

Tuck full as you like.

Very good, sir.

I want you to come with me outside. Look at one of those cards.

What do you mean?

What do you mean, look at it?

That one.

What one?

That. Quiet, secluded room to let for evening.

What about it? Get it out of there. Tear it up.

Who says?

I says. I'm a police officer.

Happy?

Didn't you know what it meant?

You should have thought one look at that old tart would have told you she wasn't

a legitimate landlady.

I didn't know you were a policeman.

Well, you know now.

That song and dance over an old advert card, is that all you came for?

Just be more careful next time.

We'll be keeping an eye on you.

An eye on me?

The shop's got a bad enough reputation as it is.

Now, if I were your father, I'd make this into a nice little business.

Not dealing filth on those dirty magazines.

Some would like this.

If you finish the sermon, I've got Dad's tea to get.

So keep whatever his name is waiting.

Ray's left, if you must know.

He used to lodge with us.

He's gone.

I don't know what business it is of yours.

Maybe I wish I'd been in Ray's shoes.

You must be joking.

If I'm joking...

I won't be outside the cinema at 7 o'clock.

Believe it or not, Monkey doesn't want to go home.

He's had a nice comfortable bed and countless free meals with Ruby, but he'd

rather spend his weekend in the nick.

Makes a change. Our customer's appreciating the amenities.

He's just scared stiff of coming face to face with Ruby, that's all. Or Jeff

Smith.

Well, whatever it is, I'm delighted.

I haven't the slightest idea what we could have held him on.

Wash your hands, ready for supper.

Oh, can we just watch the movie?

I know, that's what you said.

But this is brilliant, Mum. You haven't tidied your room yet. You haven't even

started.

Back to bed before you go to bed. Now, television off. Red off, too? I'm not

throwing you out, Red.

No, but Donna's promised me a steak. Give me five when I get home. Good

night, Jean. Night-night, Reg.

Come on, kids.

Come on.

Anything from the lab yet?

No, and I'll take my oath there won't be.

Charring may be a lonely trade, but Ruby's at the top of it.

She must have killed herself washing that carpet.

The labs say that she used every cleanser in the books or the caustic

soda. Oh, they can sort out the chemiglow from the spot away.

But they can't sort out the blood.

They can't even say which group it is.

Well, give them a chance. They're still working on it. They'll be working on it

for days. They've taken buckets full of mud from the pipes and the drains.

I'll be very much surprised if they find anything.

It's my bet that couple never went anywhere except that room.

And they left a couple of hundred fingerprints.

All carefully removed by the Queen of the Chars.

That girl could still be alive, Reg.

Because they came out together.

I've had every hospital and every GP check, Mike.

And they've had no one in with stab wounds.

And it must have been a stabbing.

That amount of loss of blood from a knock on the head and the victim

wouldn't be able to stand up.

Tag her to a car.

Anyway, if she is alive, where is she?

Enjoy the picture?

It's all right.

Don't like all that accent stuff much?

All that banging about?

You prefer a love story, I suppose.

What's wrong with that?

There's nothing wrong with that.

Nothing at all.

I prefer the real thing myself, though.

Don't you prefer the real thing?

Be telling.

Don't go for a walk down by the river.

I can't. I mustn't be late home.

Can you call me to the toilet?

I can't.

All right, then.

Come over here.

It's always raining.

Why did he take you?

He hired a car.

I'll have one.

Haven't you got a car anyway?

I don't like possessions.

I'm scared of your parents, Ryan.

No.

It's you.

The way you look at me.

It's you that frightens me.

But that's what you want, isn't it?

They're waiting up for me. I've got to go in.

I'll see you tomorrow.

All right.

Tomorrow, then.

Yes, you did.

And don't argue with me.

What do you want?

Sergeant Martin, King's Markham Police, madam.

I'm looking for Mr Kirkpatrick.

What, about the car?

In a way.

Well, you see he's not here, can't you?

If he's crashed here, I can't say I'm sorry.

Good riddance, I'd say, but it's a total write-off.

When he brought it home here on Monday, I said to him, don't think you're going

to get me to go joyriding around in a thing like that, I said.

If I want to make an exhibition of myself in a pink and white car with

purple stripes, I'll go down Brighton and go on the Dodgems, I'll say. I just

wanted... The other thing, yeah, that was bad enough.

Great old-fashioned black thing it was.

Looked more like a hearse.

God knows we must be the laughingstock of the neighbourhood by now.

I've told you before, haven't I, not to come poking your nose into my private

business. Now, go on, get back in there. Go on.

What have you done? What do you want him for?

I just want to talk to him, madam.

If he's being caught speeding, he'll lose his licence.

And then he'll lose his job.

Well, a firm like Lipton aren't going to keep on a salesman who can't drive a

car, are they?

I don't know. Any more than they're going to give their people great flashy

things for them to smash the smithereens just when it takes their fancy. I told

him that before he went to Scotland.

I told him on Tuesday morning.

That's why he never come home for his dinner Tuesday night. Oh, no, he can't

be told.

Pig-headed and stubborn he is. And now he's got him into trouble.

Thank you.

Mr. Drayton?

Telephone.

Drayton. I've got a note here for you.

Yes, Sergeant. Chief wants you down here right away.

There are a couple of things he wants you to change.

Yes, right away.

Do you have to go in this morning, Mike?

Just for an hour.

Is that your reading, anyway?

Can we go down to the river when you get back? Don't interrupt, John.

But you said last week... Get on with your breakfast.

You should have called me earlier, Mum.

I asked you to wait for your baby, but you didn't make me get half.

Sit down and eat your breakfast. I haven't got time. Where's my diner bag?

Can we perhaps be quiet?

I've got to be at Jenny's by nine.

Oh, there it is.

Come back, sit down and eat your breakfast.

Dad. You've got time.

Sit down.

How do you pronounce G-O-U-A-C-H-E?

Grouch? It's not intended to be funny.

Let's have a look.

Oh, gouache.

What? Gouache.

What are you eating that for?

It's just a case.

What exactly is it, this gouache?

I don't know.

The mix of the paint with, you know, this gum or something.

We did it in art once.

You mix the powder with the gum.

Oh, and honey.

Only we left out the honey.

And then you paint with it? Yes.

Can I go now, Mum?

You haven't had your breakfast.

I'll take it with me. Bye.

You're a day off.

So it is.

I thought you might be lonely.

How the rich live, eh?

Oh, you want me sent out for some more of those coffee mails?

You can afford it, you know, monkey. I don't want nothing except to be left in

peace.

This place is more like a good yard than a nick.

I never got one wink of sleep last night. Oh, that's your conscience.

The still, small voice urging you to tell me something.

Like how you knew that girl's name was Anne?

Give it a rest.

My nerves is in a shocking state.

I'm delighted to hear it.

Must be the result of my psychological warfare.

There's no one in.

I was just checking.

I tried the front door, but I thought they might not have heard me.

I'd like a word with you, Mr Cook, Patrick.

Do I know you?

How do you know my name? I recognised your car.

And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Who were you looking for?

That's it, is it?

A snooper.

My wife put you onto me.

An inquiry agent. You might say that.

More commonly called a police officer.

All told, I want to ask you about hiring cars.

You do hire cars, don't you?

Is this an official inquiry?

This is an official inquiry.

What colour are they, these hire cars of yours?

Well, they're all the same.

Three black Ford Escorts.

And were any of them rented out on Tuesday the 6th?

When the hell was that? Last week.

You do keep records, I presume?

Yes, that's supposed to be in the book.

Yep, they were all in.

Mind you, that week was a bit chaotic.

I remember I sacked my chief mechanic the Saturday before, cheeky young devil.

What about sales?

You wouldn't have sold anyone a blue car about that time.

I haven't sold a car, Sonny, for weeks.

the blue one, are there?

Okay. That's all, then.

Oh, and, uh, I'd like to hire a car for myself.

For tonight.

The fact of the matter is, Mr.

Kirkpatrick, the Miss Margolis has disappeared.

Rubbish. She's just gone away, that's all.

Not against the law, is it? Then you wouldn't mind telling us about your

movements on Tuesday.

The night you had a date with her.

Date?

I got to know the woman solely because of my interest in art.

The only way to get into that house and look at Margolis' pictures is through

her. Really?

Yes, really.

I've been trying to remember the name of that thing he's got in the tape.

What? That painting of his in the tape. What's it called?

I don't know what he calls them. Well, that's strange.

What do you think of his works in gouache?

I've never been there.

I'm sure they're very nice. I'm referring to the painting medium that

Margolis often uses in his work. Look, I don't have to answer your questions.

You're quite right, Mr Kirkpatrick.

I mean, we can't even prove that...

Miss Margolis is dead.

No, we'll just make a note that you were probably the last person to see her

alive and that you declined to answer our questions.

Here, listen, Inspector.

My wife is a very jealous woman. Seems to run in the family.

Was it jealousy that made you threaten Miss Margolis a couple of weeks ago?

I don't know what you're talking about.

What did Mrs. Pettiston tell you, Mr. Burton?

Mr. Kirkpatrick's exact words.

He said, I might kill you myself one of these fine days.

Was last Tuesday one of these fine days?

Funny way to talk to a woman you were only interested in because of her

brother's paintings, wasn't it, Mr Kirkpatrick?

Look, this is all stupid.

That date, as you call it, well, she never kept it. I didn't go out with her.

Wow.

If you'll be frank with us, this may not go any further.

Certainly not to your wife's ears.

We're not interested in her.

Possible divorce proceedings?

There's nothing to be frank about.

I was going to Scotland last Tuesday for my firm.

Yes, I had arranged to meet Miss Margolis before I went.

I don't deny that. I admit that.

She was going to show me some of Margolis's more early work.

Anyway, he was going out, so we knew it would be all right.

I was going home first for a meal, but I got held up and there wasn't time, so I

went straight round to the cottage and... Oh, Miss Margolis, that is.

She'd forgotten about me coming.

She said she was going to a party.

That's all.

What time did you get to the cottage?

About 7.30.

I remember because I called in at Grover's for an evening paper on the way

and they were just closing.

Well, you still had time to do your artistic researches.

After all, you'd missed your evening meal.

I asked her if I could come in for a bit.

She said no.

I said I'd take her for a meal before the party.

She said she wasn't hungry.

Just changed her mind, I suppose.

How long have you had this colour?

Since last Monday. I sold my own and got that one off my firm.

So Miss Margolis had never seen it?

I don't know what you're getting at. I think you do, Mr Kirkpatrick.

I think Miss Margolis didn't want to come out with you because she didn't

want to be seen in that car.

Rubbish. She's a woman of taste.

I wouldn't be at all surprised to hear she burst out laughing when she saw it.

I don't see what's so damn funny.

I mean, who the hell does she think she is? Does it make me look a different

man? Change my personality or something just because I've got a car with a

slogan on it? I was good enough for her before. My money was good enough to

spend on it. What did you do? Borrow more innocuous car? I told you, we

didn't go out together. And if we had, we'd have used hers.

Oh, you couldn't because the radiator was leaking.

I suggest you got hold of a blue car and took Miss Margolis to Stourton. Who said

I was in Stourton?

Cawthorn, was it? Why Cawthorn? Because he lives in Stourton. He was giving a

party. So you'll admit that you were in Stourton that night.

You say you didn't go with Miss Margolis.

But why else did you go?

You were on your way to Scotland, you say.

But whatever route you took, Stourton is miles out of your way. Look, what the

hell difference does it make?

I mean, I didn't want to end up in Scotland in a small house. I had the

whole evening to kill.

I should have thought the most important thing was that Anne wasn't with me. My

God, she wasn't even in Stoughton. She didn't even go to the party.

I know she wasn't at the party.

Her brother knows.

Mr Cawthorn knows.

But how the hell do you know?

Pity we're not in Morocco.

You'd have put on your yashmak.

I suppose you lot realise I shall be a marked woman.

Hey, look, suppose I do pick him out and he escapes? I mean, the jails can't hold

him these days.

You'll just have to take your chance on that.

Come on.

Very well, will you?

Can't trust people these days, can you?

You never told me whether you were going to do anything about that other thing.

That keeping of what you call it out.

Well, that depends.

I'm putting myself out to help you.

We shall have to see.

Be honest, Ruby.

What's Matthews ever done for you except take your money and pretty well break up

your marriage?

I don't want to get George into trouble.

It's his natural habitat.

I was crazy about him once.

You see, I never had any kids.

Never had what you could call a husband.

Not a real husband.

Mr Branch was old enough to be my father.

George had been in prison, I knew that.

But he seemed so sort of happy to be with me.

43 quid George had of me and all the drink I'd got in the place and God knows

how many good dinners.

But he wouldn't lie down beside me.

That's not nice, Mr. Wexford.

Not when you've got memories.

You can't help wanting things. He's not worthy of your loyalty, Ruby.

Cheer up, Ruby.

Mr. Burden will think I've been giving you the third degree.

You never heard Jeff Smith call that girl a hound, did you?

That was all made up to save Monkey, wasn't it?

I reckon it was.

Good girl.

Did you search that room at all after you found the bloodstain?

Oh, I was too scared.

Petty. No, Mr. Wexford.

I've been thinking and thinking about it.

George was alone in there for hours and hours on the Thursday morning doing that

letter whilst I was out of work.

I think he must have found something they left behind.

Great minds think alike, Ruby.

First I thought it was the one on the end.

That's Constable Peach.

Yes, I remembered. I'd seen him here.

Then I knew it must be the one in the black leather. Why must it be?

I know his face.

His face is familiar.

Come on, Roby. My face ought to be familiar, but that doesn't mean to say I

had your knocking shop last Tuesday night.

There's no call for that, you know.

What I want to know is, is he Geoff Smith?

I don't know.

I don't know if I'd know him if I saw him now anyway.

I've been so scared, I've imagined every dark chap I saw was in. Oh, God, blimey,

Ruby. I'm sorry.

I'm doing my best.

All I know is I saw that fellow in the black leather somewhere last week.

Could have been Tuesday.

I don't know.

He knew me, though. He saw that.

Well, I hope you're satisfied.

I think I've been more than patient.

I mean, that woman didn't know me. You could see that.

I'm very tired.

Not many men have just travelled 400 miles or be as accommodating as I've

been. What I want now is a good night's sleep and to be left in peace.

An apology from you is quite out of the question, I'm sure.

The case isn't closed yet, Mr Kirkpatrick. Yes, well, I don't want my

family being frightened or bothered.

That woman not identifying me should finish the matter once and for all.

So if you've got any more questions you want to ask me, you'd better speak now.

Or forever hold our peace, eh?

Well, we don't work quite like that, Mr. Kirkpatrick.

Rich. Hello, my love.

Rich, Jan's here.

Who's Jan?

The girl Sheila wanted to share the flat with.

Oh, what's she like? I don't know.

Come and meet her.

Oh,

Jan.

This is my father.

How do you do? How do you do?

You're a policeman, aren't you? For my sins.

As long as it's not for mine. Oh, I'm sure not.

Chas, look at you.

I'm nice and fresh.

Don't worry, I like it, Stu.

Do you like it cold, too?

Oh, is it cold?

I'm sorry.

Do you know this part of the world?

No.

What's it like being a country policeman?

Oh, I like it.

But you get pissed off with just poaching and all that.

Well, I don't do a lot of it.

No?

Oh, joke.

Right. The country isn't quite like that, Jan.

At least, not round here it isn't. Not exactly mafia country, though, is it?

Well, we try to keep our end up.

Daddy's investigating a murder.

You're at drama school too, aren't you?

Right.

Waste of time.

Oh, really?

I'm sorry to hear that.

Pouncing about doing Congreve. Not a lot of contemporary relevance, would you

say? Oh, it has, Jan.

Anything that's truthful must be relevant.

Sheila.

Congreve's a writer.

Ah. You don't like writers?

Not particularly.

They just haven't anything to say to us anymore.

We've moved on from there.

Images are what's important now.

Oh, like picture books?

No, not books at all.

The age of the book is dead.

Sorry, we're closed.

Oh, it's just that pattern I was looking at this morning. We're closed. We're

closed early Sunday.

But I must have it. Sorry.

We'll, um... We'll go to Pomfret, shall we?

To Cheriton Forest?

Have you been there before?

With Mum and Dad on picnic.

Not like this.

You can't do the quality of Percy is not trained.

I got stuck with it.

There's four of us doing portrait for the end-of-term show, and I've got the

trial fee. Oh, the audience will be in a coma before you even start.

Thanks a lot, Dad. That's not very nice, Red. Not because of her acting. I said

before she even started.

It's just so hackneyed.

Everyone else thinks I'm lucky. They're envious.

Except Jan, of course.

Oh, is she in it?

No. She was cast as Nerissa, but she refused to do it. Are you allowed to do

that? No.

What were her reasons?

Oh, she wanted to play Shylock.

He said it was pure sexism that men always got to play the men's parts

because the men's parts are always the best parts.

You didn't like Jan, did you?

Well, I don't have to remember that.

And they're all right, you know, underneath all that.

Yes, I'm sure she is.

You know, if it was me, I'd like to do the last scene.

If you had known the virtue of the ring or half her worthiness that gave the

ring... I don't have a choice.

Any of those agents that you wrote to coming to see you? None of them replied

yet. It's Sergeant Martin, Reg.

Sorry to disturb you, sir.

Only I can't get a hold of Inspector Burden.

I thought it might be urgent.

Ruby Branch is here. She's got another clerk with her.

I can't get a word out.

Yeah, OK.

I'll be right down.

What do you mean?

Take me into the trees, into the dark.

What?

What do you want?

It's a nice way to talk, that is.

After I'd taken the trouble to come all this way.

It's a real sacrifice for me.

What about him?

What does he want?

I guess George would go to him, them being old buddies.

I took a bus ride into Sewingbury after I'd finished here.

After I've been helping you.

If you don't want to know, it's OK by me.

Don't lie up here.

Well? Do you mind if we have the door shut?

Shut the door, Nobby.

Show him what you've got, Mr Clark.

I'm a respectable businessman, Mr Wexford, you know that. Come off it,

Narby. Don't let's stray into the realms of utter fantasy.

No, look, the point is this, Mr Wexford. When we was talking earlier today, you

said something I'd been thinking about.

How did George know that the girl's name was Anne when he wrote the letter?

And I said, he supposedly found something that Geoff Smith and the girl

had left in my front room.

He could have found it after I'd gone to work on the Thursday. And? Show him, Mr

Clark.

What I was meaning to say was, Mr Wexford, I mean, you and me haven't had

no trouble for a long time now, have we? Must be seven or eight years.

Six.

Six years since you had that bother over receiving watches.

Six years since I've come out, Mr Wexford, but not six years since the

trouble. Well, it's easily eight years now. Oh, well, I don't see the point in

all this. I mean, I've come here of my own free will.

All you do is try and make him look small.

I know why you've come here. Don't you think I don't?

You're an act with your boyfriend and you want to do him down.

That's not true. So you go over to this creature's shop in Sewingbury and ask

him what monkey flocked to him last Thursday.

Mr Clarke, just once. To make sure there won't be no trouble for him.

I didn't know what George had found, so how was he to know?

I left George alone in the house for a couple of hours on Thursday.

He must have found it down the side of one of my chairs.

Found what?

It's a lovely piece of workmanship for you, Mr Wexford.

18 carat gold, hand of a master.

Thursday morning it was.

You take a butcher's at that, monkey says to me.

Where did you obtain this object, I inquired? Well, knowing his reputation.

Come off it, Nobby. He was trying to tell you.

My old auntie left it to me, he said.

Auntie Anne.

Lively old bird she must have been, I said.

She'll leave you her cigar case-knit flask as well.

Just in fun, Mr Wexford.

I never thought it was hot. It wasn't on the list.

I'll give him 20 for it. Don't be childish.

I gave him 10.

10 or 20. It's still my loss, isn't it? Don't grow on trees, you know. Get out.

There won't be any trouble about this, will there, Mr Wexford? Get out!

I wasn't to know.

So?

It's done, then?

God, I never thought I'd shop George.

Would you let me see him?

No, I would not.

Don't push your luck, Ruby.

I didn't think you would.

I want to say I'm sorry.

I've loved him for 20 years.

I don't suppose you can understand that.

Sort of dirty joke, isn't it, to you and the others?

Good night, Ruby.

to get yourself a lighter, monkey.

Well, I can't seem to get on with them, Mr. Wexford.

Not even a nice cold one.

No good asking how you found out, I suppose.

Not a bit.

Ruby wouldn't do that to me. Not shup me, she wouldn't. Ruby?

I'm surprised at you, monkey.

No, I didn't reckon she would.

It's that lousy git, Nobby Clark.

He'd sell his grandmother for cats, me, he would.

So it's a bit of a come-down.

Stealing by finding.

How long will I get?

But at least we know how you got the girl's name now.

For Anne, who lights my light.

Right, here we are.

I've got to go and do my work now, and you've got to go and do yours. Right.

You were yours if you wanted.

Bye, John.

Oh, hello.

It turned up again like a bad penny.

No, I saw Mr M's advert, took pity on him, said I'd come back again till she

turns up.

If she turns up.

Yes, isn't Mr Margolis in?

Yes, come in, dear.

We're all at sixes and sevens in here.

Mind the bucket.

It's a good thing my boys can't see what I have to contend with. If they so much

as set eyes on this house, they'd have me out of here before you could say

nice.

Wouldn't surprise me if there was bugs in them walls.

It's the police, Mr. M.

Mr. Michaelis?

I've decided not to think about it. I'm simply getting on with my work.

Anne will be back.

Well, I'm sure.

Yes, Mrs. Penniston agrees with me.

Have you ever seen this before?

The cigarette lighter.

Yes, the point is, is it your sister's?

I don't know. I've never seen it before.

People are always giving her things.

Oh, look, it's got her name on it. No, it's got Anne on it.

Here, let's have a look.

No.

No, she never had nothing like that.

Er, me, we had our coffee break mid-morning. Always had a cigarette with

it, she did.

You need one of them cigarette lighters, I said, seeing how she got through

umpteen boxes and matches.

Get some young fella to give you one, I said, cos it was around Christmas and

her birthday was in Jan.

So she may have had it for her birthday?

Well, if she did, she never showed it to me, dear. Never even had one of them gas

lighters, neither.

My boy could get you one cost price, I said, him being in the trade, but no,

she wouldn't. Right, well, that seems to clear that up.

Thank you for your help.

I'll see myself out.

Oh, well, mind how you go, then.

Mind the bucket.

Yeah?

I'm afraid that's not for me. It's in there.

It's in his ear.

He's got a cold.

Well, you might as well sit down. I'll tell him you're here.

Come on, Antonia, Alex, come with me. Come on.

We'll make the bed. Come on.

Yes, come on.

It was to you.

Another policeman.

Didn't you tell him I wasn't well? I told him. Tell him yourself.

Come on, get up there.

Stop it.

I'm sorry to hear you're feeling unwell.

Psychological, I expect.

Hardly surprising after yesterday.

I'm afraid you may have to go through the mill again.

Something's come up. I've told you everything I know. We don't think so, Mr

Kirkpatrick.

For a start.

That ludicrous farce about your only being interested in Miss Margolis

because of her brother's paintings. Not so loud. We know very well you were her

lover.

You threatened to kill her.

On your own admission, you were in Stoughton on Tuesday night. All right.

All right.

It's all true.

I should have told you.

It's not her.

It's the kids.

They always give custody to the mother.

Never mind what kind of mother she happens to be.

You ever seen this before?

That's hers.

It's Anne's.

You're sure?

Of course I'm sure.

She flaunted it in my face.

You give this lady to Miss Margolis?

How could I afford a thing like that?

How did you know it was hers?

It was about a month ago.

I'd called round to see her, but she was out.

Mark Golis. He didn't seem to want to know me.

So I sat in my car and waited for her to come back.

Not the car I've got now, the one I had before, the black one.

Did she come back?

Yes.

After about half an hour.

She'd just picked her car up from having it serviced.

She was fiddling about with it.

I got in beside her.

She was swearing, because the garage had pushed the seat right back.

Anyway, I picked up the lighter.

I knew she hadn't had it before.

And when I saw the inscription... Well, I knew her.

I knew what kind of terms she must have been on with whoever had given it to

her.

For Anne, who lights my life.

Jesus, I could have killed her.

I didn't mean that.

I mean, I couldn't kill anyone. You know that.

I know very little about you, Mr Kirkpatrick.

You seem to have a split personality.

One day you tell me you're merely interested in Miss Margolis as a key to

her brother's paintings, and the next that you're passionately jealous of her.

Now, which of these personalities is the dominant one?

I loved her.

I was jealous.

And you don't know a Bonnard from a bull's foot?

Go on about the letter.

My God, I was mad ever to go near that girl.

My wife ever finds out.

For a man in love, you're not showing much grief, Mr Kirkpatrick. I didn't

kill her.

I don't know anything about it.

Let's go back to the lighter, shall we?

She took it from me.

And she looked at it.

She looked at it in a peculiar way.

What do you mean, peculiar?

As if there was something to laugh at.

Some big joke.

Sitting there in that fur coat.

I've never been free like that.

Sitting there, holding that little bit of gold in her hand.

She read out the inscription on the side.

And she sort of laughed.

Perhaps there was a joke. Oh, there was a joke, all right.

I was the joke.

I asked her who'd given it to her.

He's got a pretty turn of phrase, my generous friend, don't you think, she

said.

You'd never think of anything like that, Alan.

All you can do is add two and two and make them come to about 16.

What did she mean by that?

I don't know.

I don't know what she meant.

When you love someone, you ought to be sorry when they're dead, oughtn't you?

I loved her.

Well, I thought I did.

You talk about showing grief.

But my God, if I couldn't have her, all to myself, just me, I'd rather she was

dead. What were you doing in Stardew on Tuesday night?

I don't have to tell you that.

I don't have to tell you anything.

As you said yesterday, we can't keep you here.

That's right.

There's nothing more I can tell you anyway.

Perhaps it'll come to you. Tell you what.

We'll drop in later.

When the children are in bed.

Perhaps your wife knows what you were doing in Stoughton.

How knew Ruby recognising him like that?

Why, honey?

Well, recognising him, but not being able to say for sure if he was Jeff

Smith. Well, she probably had her iPhone fixed on his wallet.

I mean, according to your moral code, and perhaps mine too, his behaviour

wasn't too wonderful.

As far as Ruby was concerned, there was nothing suspicious about it.

It was just a simple commercial transaction.

There was no reason for her to take too much notice on him.

Far enough to notice that he was short, young and dark.

Kirkpatrick's not that short. He must be five foot nine or ten.

It's the alias that puzzles me.

Oh, the Smith's obvious.

But why Jeff?

I mean, why not John, for heaven's sake, or William?

Maybe Jeff is Kirkpatrick's middle name.

I was going to ask him.

Oh?

Little Miss Grover's been let off the lead for once?

Okay, Patrick, will you cut to me that with me?

He said he bought his evening paper there.

Yes, he did. He tried to on the Tuesday in question, but they were closed.

So I could easily have seen Ruby's car, then.

Yes, you could.

I wonder if he bought a knife there, too.

Let's go and see if he's cooled down, shall we?

If I tell you why I was in Stoughton, you'll think I'm mad.

Try me.

Well, she wouldn't go out with me on account of that damn car.

I don't know who the hell she thinks she is. All right, all right, get on with

it.

I didn't believe she was going to that party.

I went to Stoughton to check up on her.

I got there at eight, and I waited for hours.

She never came.

I just sat there and waited.

And when she never came, well, I knew she'd lied to me. I knew she'd found

someone younger and richer. You just waited.

I just waited.

When you found me at the cottage yesterday morning, I'd gone there to

make a scene.

I'd gone there to ask her who the hell she thinks she is.

What the hell?

You say you waited. Where did you wait?

Up the side of Cawthorns, under a tree.

Making a hell of a racket in there.

Shouting and playing music.

I was there for three hours, more than that.

Just sitting in the car.

Mr Kirkpatrick, this story of yours may be true, but you must realise it's

pretty thin.

Can you produce anybody that can verify it for you?

Of course I can't. And I can't imagine the police hunting up witnesses to

disprove their own case. Then you've got a lot to learn.

We're not here to make cases.

We're here to get at the truth.

Didn't anybody see you?

Some drunk came out the house wondering about spouting poetry, but he didn't see

me. What about when the guests were arriving?

I told you, I was up the side road by the laundrette.

That girl.

That girl, she saw me.

What girl? That girl from Grover's.

You saw her at seven o'clock when you tried to buy your papers. What you were

doing at seven o'clock isn't relevant. No, no, no, no. I saw her later in

Stoughton. Where?

Well, I was up the side road by the laundrette and she was coming along in a

car. She stopped at the traffic lights.

I was standing by my car then. Don't ask me what time it was.

But she looked across at me and looked at the car and giggled.

Good for a laugh, I suppose.

Well, she'd probably remember, wouldn't she?

What are you doing here so soon? You're hours early.

No, I'm not. I can't come out.

I've got shop to see to.

You can come around, I'm taking you.

Police station.

Are you trying to be funny or something?

I'm not being funny.

Well, what then?

What do they want me for? Is it about the advert?

In a way.

Because nothing's just routine.

trying to frighten me.

You better do that.

Tell your parents.

Is

your

father any better?

He says he's in agony.

You can't tell, can you, what he's got?

Not as if there's anything to show.

Seems to me he's a slave driver.

They're all slave drivers.

Like your own dad and some man.

You'll be there, won't you, when they talk to me?

Sure, I'll be there.

Don't smile at me like that.

I don't want to do to you what I did last night.

I'd just like to ask you a few routine questions, Miss Grover.

I believe you know Mr Kirkpatrick. He's a customer of yours.

Is he?

Well, if you don't recognise the name, perhaps you know the car.

You probably saw it outside just now.

That funny car with pink stripes and flowers on it.

Oh, I know him.

I want you to cast your mind back to Tuesday evening.

Were you in Sturgeon that night?

Yes.

Well, I always do on Tuesdays.

I take our washing to the laundrette in my dad's car.

But my dad's ill and Mum goes to a with-drive most nights.

All right, Triton.

I shan't need you for a moment.

Now... Did Mr. What's-His-Name see me? I saw him.

You're sure?

Oh, yes, I know him.

We'd come to the shop earlier, just as we were closing.

It wasn't just the car you identified?

The empty car?

I didn't know the car.

He used to have a different one.

When I saw him with that and knew it was his, it made me laugh.

He thinks such a lot of himself, see? What time is that?

Late.

I'd just come from the laundrette. I was on my way home.

It must have been quarter past nine.

Just after.

I stopped at the traffic lights and he'd parked the car down by the side of the

garage. Cawthorns.

I know it was him.

You sure about the time?

You're not wearing a watch.

I'd just come from the laundrette.

Seen the clock.

All right, Miss Grover.

You can run along now.

Thank you very much.

Mr Kirkpatrick ought to be very grateful to you.

That girl was got out.

Could be right.

We should never have let Kirkpatrick out.

Well, what did we have to hold him on, Mike?

Oh, I agree.

Probably went straight after the Grovers the moment we let him out.

But... That girl wasn't at ease.

Show me a Grover that wouldn't do anything for money.

Like father, like daughter.

Poor kid.

Not much of a life, is it?

Cooked up in that dirty little shop every day.

Carrying the washing about just because her mother's out playing whist.

Look, if he was outside Cawthorn's at about half past nine, he's in the clear

and we're wasting our time with him. But if that girl's lying and he did it, he

could have disposed of Anita's body anywhere between here and the Scottish

border.

I wouldn't mind having another go at Kirkpatrick.

In his wife's presence.

No, let him rest for a while.

The king-size question is, did he bribe that girl?

I'm hoping she feels inclined to confide in Drayton.

Drayton?

Well, he's attracted to the opposite sex, wouldn't you say?

It's that brooding, sulky look that gets him every time.

If you want my opinion, he looks like some damn trendy.

You wouldn't even know he was supposed to be a policeman.

Well, that's the general idea.

Yes. And he's gone too far.

How do you fancy gaining Miss Grover's confidence?

Well, Sergeant Martin and I are scarcely cut out to stoop before a wanton,

humbling nymph.

Though I don't suppose your wife would be too keen.

I'll have a word with Drayton.

Not necessary.

Unless I'm much mistaken, we can leave that to Mother Nature.

See you tomorrow.

I'm worried, Reg.

She's 21, Dora.

She's a grown-up.

Doesn't she worry you, that girl?

Worry me?

No. I can't say I like her. She's not feminine.

Well, neither is the milkman.

But you don't dislike him, do you?

You know very well what I mean.

When she first appeared at the door, I thought it was a man.

I know that's the fashion now, but there's something about her.

It's none of our business, Dora. Oh, yes, it is.

If the children grow older, it doesn't mean you stop worrying about them.

You can worry about them if you want. You can worry about them for the rest of

your life.

You used to worry about Sylvia until she had Robin.

Now you worry about Robin. I never worried about Sylvia the way I worry

about Sheila.

Sylvia was always more down to earth.

That's because she takes after me.

Sheila's more like you.

Sensitive. It is no good you trying to butter me up now.

No, I didn't think there would be.

I am just not happy about Sheila sharing a flat with that girl.

I'm surprised you are. You didn't like her.

Here she is now.

You talk to her, Reg. I don't want... Why are you all lurking in here?

I'm not lurking. I'm cooking.

Father's lurking.

Have I got time for a bath before dinner? It's a quick one.

Oh, by the way, we can forget about the flat for a bit.

Jan's getting her boyfriend to move in with her.

Thanks, Mike.

Chief Constable's been out to me.

About this case?

According to him, it's not to be allowed to develop into a merger inquiry.

Evidence inconclusive and so forth.

We've got a couple of days to skirt around, and that's our lot.

See? The whole place turned upside down just to get Mikey Matthews a few more

months for stealing by fighting.

The stain on the carpet was in Rupert's imagination.

Anita Margolis is on holiday.

The couple that staggered down the path were drunk.

And Kirkpatrick is simply afraid of his wife. Now, I quote the power of the bee.

Martin's watching Kirkpatrick's house. Do I call him off?

What else is there for him to do?

We're pretty slack otherwise.

As for the questions I want answered, Griswold isn't interested.

He says there's been no hunting up of fresh suspects without a positive lead.

Look, if we're so slack, why can't you just let us get on with it?

Taxpayers' money.

Waste thereof.

At least.

That's my directive.

And I have to abide by it.

I don't suppose there'd be any objection if I went and inquired a few jewelers,

would there?

Thank you.

I want a birthday gift.

No.

No, I'm sorry.

We don't sell lighters anyway, but I doubt if anyone round these parts would

sell a thing like this.

That's what everyone tells me.

Well, it's a work of art, isn't it?

Eight or nine years ago, it might have come from here.

Oh? Before we took over from Scatchards, people said they were the best jewellers

between London and Brighton.

Old Mr Scatchard still lives in the town.

I suppose if you want... Talk to him. I don't know. Too long ago.

Thank you.

Yes? I wanted to thank you. I was just passing.

This is for you.

A token of my gratitude.

I don't want that.

I didn't do anything.

I really saw you.

Yeah, I know that, but the point is... It's over.

It's done with.

Look, won't you just have a look at it? Listen, I don't want it.

Look, please, just look at it. Will you go away, sir?

Give it to your wife.

I don't want it.

There you are, Mr Burton.

Do you want a drink?

That's very kind. I'll have half, it's not so much trouble.

You were right.

He offered her a necklace.

A necklace?

But she refused.

Said she'd really seen him in Stoughton and didn't want anything more to do with

him.

So she didn't take it, then?

No.

Nice piece it was, too. A bit showy, mind.

Holding up in red paper and gold cord.

What's it now?

Sounds like joy jewels.

I wonder if he was a regular customer of theirs.

Suppose he could have brought the lighter there years ago when it was

still sketched.

And had it engraved recently for the school.

Come in, sir.

Come in.

I was just making myself a cup of tea.

Perhaps you will do me the honour of joining me.

That's very kind of you, sir.

Good.

It's, um... Lapsin Souchon.

I hope that's all right.

Fine.

Well, uh, what have you brought me to look at?

Could it have come from round here?

Or do you only get things like this in London?

Uh... Oh?

I, uh... I know the design.

It's called Les Graptomarvines.

The grapes of my vine.

It's Baudelaire, of course.

Highly appropriate for a lover's gift.

Oh, and it was a lover's gift.

For Anne, who lights my life.

It's a pretty greeting for a lady. Have you ever seen it before?

Oh, yes, seven, eight years ago.

I know the design.

But this particular one's fairly new, surely?

No, no, no.

That's what I'm saying.

I remember selling it.

I see.

And the inscription could have been added recently?

No. No, it was before I retired.

Before Joy Jewels took over.

That's impossible.

My dear Inspector, I really ought to know.

I engraved it myself.

Who did you sell it to?

Kirkpatrick? Put me it up now.

I mean, it doesn't make any sense, does it?

He hasn't sold anything for certain years.

And seven years ago, Anita Margolis wasn't here.

Probably didn't know such a place as King's Markham existed.

As for Kirkpatrick, well, old Sketchett's got a wonderful memory for

his age, and he says he's never had a customer called Kirkpatrick.

Just doesn't add up. Oh, it adds up all right, mate.

Somehow it adds up.

We just haven't got the right figures, that's all.

Yes, well, Sketchett's going through his books now.

Says it'll take him an hour or two.

What have we got from the lab?

Nothing at all.

Ruby's carpet is cleaner than the day he left the shop.

And the Margolis girl's car has only her own fingerprints on it.

You know, it's always possible that Anita Margolis just found the lighter.

You know, picked it up in the street, noticed the inscription, and kept it

because it was appropriate.

Found it?

You mean someone lost it, Anita found it, and then lost it again at Ruby's?

Don't be daft, man. It's not an old umbrella.

It's a valuable article.

And it's the key to this whole thing.

We're getting near the end of 1978 now.

Each time I come to the end of the year, I feel I'm getting warm.

I have a faint recollection of Christmas.

And I seem to remember selling a particularly fine ring at about the same

time.

Yes, here it is. The ring I mentioned.

Not the same day, I'm sure.

Nor the next one, either.

Ah,

here we are.

Gold cigarette lighter to order.

Les grappes de Marvin.

Inscribed, for Anne, who lights... My life.

Oh.

Not much help to you, I'm afraid.

Such a common name.

Still, there is an address.

What name?

Smith.

It was pulled on December the 15th, 1978,

to a Mr.

Jeffrey Smith.

How come this Jeff Smith isn't on the electoral register?

He can't very well be underage.

Unless we're dealing with a little boy who bought a lighter for a little girl.

I'd like to get the lab to work on that.

Of course, he could be a foreigner.

Change his name and he can get naturalised.

Or an American.

Or a Canadian.

Or an Australian.

Or surely she would have noticed an accident when he was booking the room.

How about this, Sir Reg?

Smith's known Anita for years.

And their friendship was renewed when she and Margolis came to live here.

So he books the room on Saturday night, going to Ruby's in his black car, which

he sells over the weekend, exchanging it for a blue one.

And he gives his name because he's got no idea he's going to have anything to

hide.

Right.

Anita meets Smith somewhere, parks her own car, and goes with him to Rubel's in

his.

They quarrel in Ruby's room.

Yet maybe they quarrel over Kirkpatrick.

That makes sense.

And he attacks her with a knife or razor.

Manages to get her out of the house and into the car, but she dies, and he dumps

her body somewhere.

Or hides it in the place of his incendiary.

So Kirkpatrick only comes into it as a rival.

And all his worries are genuinely caused by fear of his wife.

No, Mike.

No, it has all the facts, but it goes all around the houses together.

Well, look at it this way, then.

Let's go to Soyingbury and see.

We can get that little romance in the back for a start.

Before he gets carried away, eh?

Yes, I wonder if I want my young men amorously involved with the Grover

unless it's in the line of business.

A trip to Soyingbury, Brighton?

What do you mean?

I asked you if you were Mrs. Smith, Mrs. Geoffrey Smith.

Will you please go?

Kingsmarkham Police.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I'm very sorry.

Well,

you'd better come in.

You do get rather nervous these days, I'm afraid.

I'd like to see Mr. Smith.

When will he be back?

Yes, I'd like to see him too.

Geoffrey divorced me five years ago.

Do you know where he is now, Mrs. Smith?

Not Mrs. Smith.

Mrs. Anstey.

Noreen Anstey.

I'm married again.

Why do you want him?

Oh, just routine inquiries.

Yes, well, it can't be anything very terrible.

Geoffrey's one of the most honest people I've ever met.

Don't you think he looks honest?

Have you ever seen this before?

Oh, it's my lighter.

I thought it had gone for good.

Oh, where did you find it? This is wonderful.

Um, can I make you some tea?

No, we won't have any tea, Mrs. Anstey.

Sit down a minute. We'd just like to get a few things clear.

This is your lighter?

Yes. But, uh...

I thought you said your name was Noreen.

Which that is, Noreen Ann Anstey.

Oh, but I always used to be called Anne.

First I was Anne Greystock, which is fine.

Then I was Anne Smith, which is dreary but not too terrible.

But Anne Anstey, that is terrible.

Like a stammer.

So I used my first name.

And your first husband gave you the lighter?

Yes, Christmas 1978 it must have been.

We were getting on fine in those days.

I lit his life.

How did you come to lose it?

Well, how did one come to lose anything?

It was last November. I had a handbag with a 40 clasp.

I always carried the lighter about with me, even though, well, I can't afford to

smoke these days.

Anyway, one day the lighter was there and the next it wasn't. Was it insured?

Oh, I know.

I know it's valuable.

Everything Jeff gave me was pretty valuable.

He isn't rich, but he's very generous.

I was his wife and...

Nothing was too good for me.

I've sold most of the other stuff.

I've had to.

I'm a teacher at St Catherine's, but, well, I could sense him to manage very

well.

I don't know why I kept this.

It's just so personal, I suppose.

Hmm.

It's nice to have been loved and remember it when it's gone.

As his divorced wife, Mrs Anstey, you must know where Mr Spith is now.

Oh, we don't.

Keep in touch.

He never paid me alimony. He gave us the flat to live in.

Is it some taxing you want to see him about as he's an accountant?

Oh, no.

No tax.

Well, if anybody's been fiddling their tax, it is nothing to do with Geoff.

Where can we find him now?

Back where he came from, Kingsmarkham.

But we've interviewed every Geoff Smith on the electoral register, Mrs. Hastie.

Well, maybe he isn't registered.

He isn't a very political animal, as they say.

Anyway, that's where he is.

22 Kingsbrook Road.

Old Kingsbrook Road, that is.

He lived there before we were married, and, well, after the divorce, he went

back there.

Do you mind if we take this to make a copy of it? Oh, well, it is the only...

Or we'll take the greatest care of it.

Yes, please do.

And we'll need the lighter for a while, David.

Have you ever heard him speak of a Miss Anita Margolis?

Is she someone who's been fiddling her tacks?

Nobody has been fiddling their tacks.

You could still have a key to this flat, I suppose.

A key?

I don't know. You may have.

If he has, he doesn't use it.

I wish he would.

It's a terrible thing to mess up someone else's life.

It doesn't matter about me.

In a funny sort of way, there's, well, a kind of consolation in knowing you just

got what you thoroughly deserved.

You just deserved the best and you got a kick in the teeth.

Just like to know things have got better for him, that's all.

Oh, I'm sorry.

Well, you do get rather garrulous when you spend a lot of time alone.

Are you sure you wouldn't like a cup of tea? No, no, thank you. And thank you

very much for your help.

When you see him, you might give him my bad wishes.

Still, I don't think you carry messages.

Maybe he's forgotten the past, anyway.

For Anne, who messed up my life.

Let's not sentimentalise him, shall we?

He made a nasty mess with the other Anne he gave it to.

No, no, what I'm saying is I can't see him coming back and nicking this just

because he found a girl who might appreciate him.

At least we don't have to worry about him giving it to Anita Margolis in 1978.

Probably didn't even meet her till a few months ago.

I'd go along with that.

Wouldn't you, Drayton?

Yes, sir.

I dare say he killed her with one of those flick knives Grover's shop used to

sell.

Take the Starriton turn, will you? We've got another call to make before we

confront Jeff Smith.

Right.

Oh, I don't know.

I'm all confused now.

How many more of you are going to come calling?

What's that supposed to mean?

A fella called Martin. He's only been gone ten minutes.

He's one of your lot, isn't he?

First there comes this great big car, pink and white, with writing on it, and

this fella gets out.

What fella?

The one in the black leather on your parade.

Well, since I saw his car, I remembered where I'd seen him before.

Where? Give us a chance.

Twice I saw him on that Tuesday night.

Outside Cawthorn's garage he was when I went by about ten past eight.

Then I saw him again at eleven, sitting in his car, staring at everyone like he

was going off his head.

I told all that to your bloke Martin just now.

You wouldn't be saying all this because Mr Kirkpatrick asked you to, would you?

No. You wouldn't be led into temptation by a nifty rope of rhinestones, would

you? I never even spoke to him.

He was just getting out of that daft car of his when your man drives up.

Back he nips and off down the street.

That Martin of yours was a nasty bit of work.

Very nasty to me, he was.

Some would call it threatening.

Some would call it saving the weaker vessel from her baser instincts.

You're on laundry duty tonight, Triton.

I beg your pardon, sir?

Miss Grover usually comes over here to do her laundry on a Tuesday, doesn't

she?

Yes, ma'am.

Kirkpatrick's in the clear.

Both Ruby and the little Grover girl saw him outside Cawthorn, sure enough.

P.D.M. going round trying to bribe them.

Gilding the lily.

Fool who can't lead well alone.

It's the inside of a divorce board he's frightened of.

Not a jail.

Straight to the old Kingsbrook Road, sir.

Straight to the old Kingsbrook Road.

This is 22.

Can't be.

It is.

Remember the street?

Yeah, there was a row of shops over on that side, wasn't there? Yeah.

Edwardian houses all along this.

Hey, who are you on?

I can see that.

What can I do for you?

This is number 22.

Yeah, you found it.

We're looking for an accountant who used to live here. Name is Smith.

No, I don't know nothing about that, mate.

Well, they all moved away six months ago.

You want to try the cast down the road?

Excuse me.

Tea or coffee?

Neither, with Belize.

Oh, we've done nothing wrong here, except his cooking.

No, I'm looking for someone who used to live across the road, number 22, named

Jeff Smith.

Oh, the one who was an accountant?

Yeah, that's right.

Well, you won't find him, love, will they, Harold?

No, they certainly won't. Why not?

Because he's dead, love.

He's been dead these 18 months.

I don't believe it.

I just don't believe it.

I'm not much of a one for predictions, Mark, but it wouldn't surprise me if you

didn't have a fine career ahead of you in force.

So you're intelligent, well-educated, work hard, and you have a nose for

police business.

Which makes it all the more surprising that you don't have an instinct for an

unworthy association, if I can put it like that, by talking about Miss Kroger.

I am.

It's none of my business who you mix with in your off-duty hours, but it is

my concern.

Miss Grover may be a respectable young girl.

And it may be a pity to put her in the same category as her father.

But as far as a young officer... I understand.

Good.

He was right. He died a year ago last February.

Do the undertakers remember him at all? They remember the funeral. There's no

one there but an old man who was his neighbor, and the girl who used to do

his typing.

Our sure-pass suspect is in a grave in Stullerton Cemetery.

I shan't be needing that hardcore tonight.

Well, it's highly inconvenient.

Why? I could have rented it to someone else. Who?

Oh, no one specific, as it happens. Quite.

How about later in the week?

No.

I shan't be needing it again.

Young lady giving you the elbow, eh?

Are you trying to avoid me or something?

I didn't know you were in Stout.

I was looking after the shop.

Here's a bag.

Give us a hand with this, will you?

Your mum is just after a whisk drive.

She wants them things ironed tonight.

You ought to be in bed, Dad.

Yes, lucky I'm not.

I've just seen the mess these books are in.

This is the end of me taking things easy.

Back to the grindstone for meat.

We'll get a car out tomorrow.

I suppose that's been clean since I was laid up.

The doctor will have something to say about that.

Why don't you go back to bed?

I'm here now.

I'll manage.

I can wash it up later.

Not that it'll dry tonight.

I should have taken it in the afternoon like I did last week.

Promise me you will tomorrow, Mark.

Before Dad gets mobile and cold, do you think?

I promise.

Oh,

Mark.

Mark, look after me, Mark.

Last one.

Now, the theory is that when the door opens, the lid of the bin opens too.

So I can't open that cupboard without opening the waste bin.

That's all right.

Can I have one of those donuts you bought this morning?

I thought you just had your supper.

I'm still hungry.

I'm starving.

All right. Take one in for Pat.

I thought he was going round to David's tonight.

He was.

Only David's father came down unexpectedly.

Down? From Bradford. He lived there.

David's father lives down the road.

No, no, no. Wendell's not David's father.

Doreen was married before.

Really?

Apparently modern life's confusing.

If you ask me, she fell out of the frying pan into the fire. Oh? Well, I

can't believe her first husband was worse than this one. Oh, he's all right.

I sometimes think you go round with your head stuck in a pile of sand.

He drinks.

Well, we all drink.

Oh, I mean he drinks.

Well, you saw him at parent's day.

Well, he was just nervous.

Nervous? Honestly, Mike.

He steals money from us.

Really? From her handbag.

I mean, she hides it under the mattress, but he still finds it.

Blimey. I mean, she's desperate.

I'm not a great friend of hers or anything, but she told me all about it.

She... What's the matter?

Mike?

A bit noisy in here, I'm afraid.

About half as noisy as it is at home.

Sheila's having a gig.

I don't think that's what they call it.

No?

What do they call it, then?

Search me.

But I think I was justified in calling you out.

Wouldn't wait till morning.

Bloody cars out there.

Black cars, green cars, blue cars.

He's out there somewhere, just driving around.

I think I know who he is.

Well, I didn't suppose you'd drag me down here for the booze.

I think it's Smithy's auntie's husband.

Smith?

Good God, Mike, we've been through all that before. He's dead.

Smithy? But auntie isn't. At any rate, we've no reason to suppose so.

Look, I think it could be one, Steve. Do you want me to tell you why?

It better be good.

I know nothing about the man. She hardly mentioned him. Yes, and didn't you think

that was odd?

Perhaps it was.

Perhaps it was.

See, who does she give the impression of being more fond of?

The man who divorced her five years ago or the man she's married to now?

She regrets that divorce, though.

She doesn't mind saying hello to a couple of strangers who didn't even want

to know.

It's nice to have been loved and remember it when it's gone.

Now, are those the words of a happily married woman?

And then, what's all that about being alone a lot?

She's a teacher.

A married woman with a job wouldn't be alone a lot. She'd have to be alone at

all. So you think that she and I will see a second lady? I do.

Now, we don't believe she lost her lighter.

She didn't lose it, but just left it lying around somewhere or in her

handbag.

Who's the most likely person to have it in his possession?

The errant husband.

And not only that, they've probably divorced her on account of that, I

believe. That means a downbreak.

And a man who committed once will commit it again.

There speaks a stern moralist. I can't go along with that.

But your point is that Anstey took up with Anita Margulis and gave her the

letter. Exactly.

Well, it's all right as far as it goes, mate, but we've got no reason to presume

that Anstey left his wife.

Why does she say she's only got her salary to live on?

And it's perfectly true what he says about selling her jewellery.

Remember, I saw her in Nubby Clark's shop.

To detection.

Where's Anstey now, then?

Well, round here somewhere.

Just getting on with whatever job he does.

All right.

If you're so clever.

Will you tell me why a man called Anstey gives the name of his wife's former

husband when going out on the tires with another girl? And not just Smith, mind.

Jeff Smith.

No, that I don't know.

Why did he kill her?

What was his motive?

When we suspected Kirkpatrick, we assumed that the motive was jealousy.

We'd forgotten about the 3,000 pounds Anita Margolis was carrying in her

handbag.

That's true.

True.

But if he killed her for her money...

Why didn't you wait until they were back in the car, drive her to some lonely

place, and kill her there?

I don't know.

You don't go murdering a woman in somebody else's house, leaving behind

incriminating traces, when you could do it in Chariton Forest, for example. I

know, I know.

Oh, moon of my delight that knows no wane.

Why don't you tell him to leave her alone?

And she was coming along in a car. She stopped at the traffic lights.

I was standing by my car then. Don't ask me what time it was.

But she looked across at me, looked at the car and giggled.

Come in.

Mrs. Anstey is here to see you, sir.

Oh, dear.

The man who has come to Mohammed at last.

Shall I bring her up?

Just a minute, Graydon.

Close the door.

Didn't you join us up last night?

Yes. Thank you, sir.

I don't suppose you know many young people around here just yet?

Not many, sir, no.

Pity.

God knows my young daughter knows enough.

Always having get-togethers around at our place.

Decent bunch, if you don't mind the noise, and I dare say you don't.

You must join them on these fine nights.

Just on your own.

I'd like that very much, sir.

Good.

I'll get Sheila to give you a ring.

All right.

I'll see Mrs. Arnstein out.

Oh, hello.

Oh, what a day. Well, let me take your coat.

I had to come. I had an impulse.

Well, do sit down, Mrs Ansting.

After you'd gone, I got to thinking what on earth you could have meant about some

girl you mentioned.

Well, I just thought I had to see you.

Jeff and a girl.

I didn't like that.

Dog in the manger, aren't I?

Look, the point is, I have to see him.

I've waited long enough and I'm going there now, but I just thought I ought to

see you first.

Has he got a girl?

I wasn't able to see him, Mrs. Anstey.

What's wrong?

Something's the matter.

He's ill?

He's dead.

I'm sorry.

Very sorry.

It was a coronary a bit over a year ago.

I'm sure that it... He can't be dead.

Where did she have her car serviced?

Oh, some garage, I think.

It'd be Cawthorns, wouldn't it?

Where do you have your own car seen to?

Oh, Anne took care of all that side of things.

There was something, though. There was some trouble.

She was going to go somewhere else.

I can't remember.

She took them to that Ray, Mr M. You know she did.

Why don't you pull yourself together?

He's gone to pieces since his sister left.

Can't do nothing with him.

Ray who?

Don't ask me, dear. I told you what she was like with her Christian names.

All I know is she came in here a couple of months back and she said, I've had

about as much as I can stand of Russell's prices.

I've a good mind to get Ray to do the cars for me.

Who's Ray, I said.

But she just laughed.

Never you mind, Mrs P, darling, she said. Let's just say he's a nice young

man that thinks the world of me.

And if I told her who he is, he might lose his job.

Did he come here to service the cars?

No. Well, he wouldn't have had the facilities here, would he?

No, she took them to him.

He lived local, you see.

A bit better now.

I could never ask him to forgive me now.

I'm sorry.

I'm all right now.

I won't cry anymore.

I'll go to my grave knowing he never knew I was sorry.

He forgave you?

Gave you the flat, didn't he?

He died.

I didn't even know.

He's dead and gone and I didn't even go to his funeral.

Oh, you don't know what I did to him, do you?

We've been married eight years.

Perfect couple, happy couple.

Everybody said so.

It was through... He used to buy me presents.

Unbirthday presents, he used to call them.

You just couldn't have that many birthdays. You'd get old too quick.

Geoff worked from home.

He had an office downstairs.

There was a garage at the back.

It's my window.

Ray Anstey worked at that garage.

I used to watch him.

You know the way they lie there on their backs with their heads thrown back?

My God.

You don't want to hear all this. I'd better go.

We'll get somebody to...

Take you back.

But not quite yet.

Only two questions.

But she's dead beyond your reach.

Why did you want him?

I think it's your second husband we want, Mrs Anstey.

Ray?

Where is he, Mrs Anstey?

I don't know. I haven't seen him for a month.

He left me at the end of last year.

You say he worked in a garage?

Was he a mechanic?

What's he done?

What do you want him for?

The girl is missing.

Probably dead.

Oh, the knife.

Oh, my God.

The knife.

He always had a knife.

I remember that.

That first time, the first time he came up from the garage.

Geoff was working downstairs and I used to take him coffee.

And then I started taking it to Ray as well.

One day he came up instead.

Oh, I knew what I was doing.

God, he was beautiful.

Not handsome.

Beautiful.

Perfect.

Like people ought to be.

Like I never was.

Not very tall.

Red mouth.

Black hair.

How old is he?

Ten years younger than me.

He came up that day.

We were quite alone.

He had this knife, a little flick knife.

He just took it out of his pocket and put it on the table.

We didn't talk much.

For us to say, we didn't have anything in common.

He just sat there, smiling, making little sort of sly innuendos.

God, I was sick with wanting him.

I'd had the lighter a few months.

I remember I lit a cigarette for Ray and he said, no, light it in your mouth.

He looked at the lighter.

He said, he gave you this.

Does he give you toys because he can't give you anything else?

Oh, it wasn't true, but it must have been the way it looked, the way I

looked.

I've got a toy too, he said.

He picked up a knife and he held it against my throat.

He made the blade come out.

I kept very still or it would have cut me.

My God, I was a teacher of French in a girls' school. I'd never been anywhere,

I'd never done anything you'd have thought I'd have screamed.

Oh, no.

I'd have let him kill me.

Afterwards, well, after he'd gone, there was blood on my neck from a little

scratch.

And I knew that he'd been looking at that all the time he was making love to

me.

And Smith divorced you?

Oh, he found out it wasn't difficult. I'd never been much good at hiding my

feelings. Oh, Geoff would have forgiven me. He wanted us to start again. He

couldn't believe that I wanted to marry a man ten years younger than myself, a

garage hand.

But I was mad, you see.

I was mad to have him.

Oh, I knew he was a sadist and a moron, but... Well,

he's cut me since then.

Really cut me.

When did you first start being unhappy with Anstey?

Unhappy?

I was never happy with Ray.

I can't think of a single moment that I could say I was happy.

He loathed Jeff.

Do you know what he used to do?

He used to pretend he was Jeff.

He'd pick up the phone and he'd say, Jeff, Smith speaking.

And once, once he took some clothes to the cleaners, filthy overalls, and when

I went to pick them up, they couldn't find the ticket.

It was made out to Smith, you see.

Anything a bit dirty or disreputable, he was involved in.

He'd always give Geoff's name.

A girl came round once.

She couldn't have been more than 17.

And she asked if this is where Geoff Smith lived.

Oh, he'd used the knife on her too.

She showed me the scar.

But she still wanted him back.

I used to tell him he'd go too far.

He'd kill one of them or they'd go to the police.

He has gone too far.

He had to see their blood, you see.

I used to think that one day there'd be a girl who wasn't mesmerised by him but

just plain frightened and that she'd turn the knife on him.

She wasn't big and strong, you see, not powerful physically.

His power was the other kind.

Oh, I...

I used to take the knives away, but he always got new ones.

And then he left me.

It was about that time that you lost the lighter.

Yes, I've been thinking about that.

Ray must have taken it. He used to take things from Jeff and me when we were

still married.

Well, jewellery, things like that. I mean, I knew he had, but I couldn't

prove it.

There were so many things we both knew and never put into words.

Oh, God, I'm so bitterly sorry.

You don't understand, do you?

I just want to find out where he's buried and go and lie on his grave and

cry into the earth.

Have you got a friend to keep you company? A mother, sister, neighbor?

Oh, my mother's dead.

Ray and I didn't have many friends.

The policeman will take you back.

She'll try and find somebody to keep you company.

And when you find him?

Oh, we'll keep in touch, Mrs. Anstey.

He must have known that Mr. Smith was dead.

Would he use his name knowing he was dead?

He might have done.

It would be a joke to him dishonoring Jeff's memory.

Oh, if Geoff had been alive, if only he'd been alive, Ray wouldn't be able to

hurt him or me anymore.

If Geoff had seen him, seen him once, and heard he'd left me, he'd have come

back to me.

I often used to think, you'll find out, he'll know sooner or later.

We used to be able to read each other's minds.

He's lonely too, I thought.

It's all a fraud, that, about reading minds.

He was dead.

And I waited for him.

Quite happy, really, and peaceful.

Oh, I didn't long for him or feel passionate or anything.

I thought, one day, this week, next week, sometime.

Well, it was never, wasn't it?

May I have this?

In a little while, Mrs. Anstey.

The design's called Le Crop de Marvigne.

It comes from a poem by Baudelaire.

Geoff knew I loved it.

Et est sans les crabes de ma vigne.

Ray and Stu was with me about six months.

He was a good lad.

Knew his job.

Much of a one for the women, was he?

I wouldn't say that.

Good-looking young lad, though.

You wouldn't say that.

All I can say is you don't listen to a word I say.

Well, he looked at me sometimes.

Of course, I'm used to it.

But I could see what young Ray was...

Of course, nothing was actually said.

More than his job was worth to go chasing the boss's wife.

When did he leave?

Last Saturday week.

I had to let him go.

Why?

Well, I'm in the habit of letting any of my car borrow a car when in need,

provided they give me fair warning.

And he took advantage of it.

Night after night, he takes out one of the cars. It was all the same to him

whether I knew or whether I didn't.

Well, on that Saturday morning, we were a bit short-staffed, and I noticed

Anstey wasn't about.

Next thing was, he came sweeping in in one of the escorts without a word of

apology. Said he'd been to see some friends on business.

Escorts? Yes. We keep three black Ford escorts for hiring out.

Anyway, I said to him, business? I said, my business is your business, just so

you remember that.

Oh, he said in the most unpleasant way, I wonder how much effing business you'd

have left if I didn't have scruples.

Well, I told him to get out. Get his cards and get out. Poor lamb.

I wish I'd been kinder to him.

What did he mean by scruples?

He was a good mechanic.

Too good.

Ingratiated himself with the customers.

Madam this and madam that and opening the door for them.

Complimenting them on their driving.

Harmless, I should have thought. Oh, yes.

Until he started making little private arrangements with them to do their

servicing for them himself.

There was Mrs Curran, for example.

Miss Margolis and her brother.

Really? For all we've been close friends for over a year, she didn't think twice

about going to Anstey on the sly.

Were they friendly?

Anita and young Ray.

Show me a man under 50 she wasn't friendly with.

You say he left on Saturday.

Where would he go?

Do you know where he was living?

King's Markham, I suppose.

One of my lads might know.

You think he killed her, don't you?

Let's go and find that address, shall we?

Is he on the run?

Poor hunted creature.

1-8-6-5-3 Kingsmarkham. Yeah, that's 1-8-6.

The new block's 1-5-8-1-7-4.

One of the chemists.

It's Grover's.

on our doorstep.

Are we blind?

It's common knowledge to take lodgers in, sir.

I dare say we've all seen a young, dark fella going in and out, but with no

cause to connect him with this case.

He didn't have far to go to see Ruby's ad, did he?

What happens to your theory about the cars now?

Anser didn't even own a car, let alone swap a black one for a blue one.

Anita Margoly's got 3,000 pounds the day before she went to Ruby's.

Maybe she bought him a car.

She's not an old woman with a cat man.

Young girls don't buy cars for their boyfriends.

I'll just have them finish closing up.

Grover's pretty well bedridden at the moment, isn't he, Drayton?

He's up and about again now, sir.

Good.

Right, let's go.

Chief Inspector Wexford in.

Chief Inspector Wexford's out at the moment, miss. Can I help you?

I shouldn't think so.

My brother said he wanted to see me.

Was there a name, miss?

There was.

Margolis.

Anita Margolis.

Oh, good evening, Mr. Burden.

Mr. Wexford, well.

Come in.

Come in.

Do you want to talk to Mr. Ray Anstey?

He's not here, Mr. Burden, sir. He left last week.

What day?

Last Tuesday.

He was here just a month, Mr Wexford.

Then Mr Cawthorn gave him the push.

That was on Saturday.

And he left the following Tuesday.

Where's his room?

Oh, it's all been done up.

Lynn cleaned it up.

He never left nothing behind, so there's no use you looking.

We'll look in a minute.

Tell us some more about Mr Anstey.

There's nothing to tell, Mr Burden.

He didn't leave no forwarding address.

And he paid his next month's rent in advance.

Tell me about Tuesday evening.

Tell you what?

Lynne was in and out all afternoon.

We wanted some bread and it was early closing here.

Not for us, mind. We don't close.

So she had to pop in to start.

The wife went out to Elquist Drive around 7.30 and Lynne was off somewhere.

The laundrette it was.

And that was it.

And Mr Anstey?

I never saw Ray all day.

I was in bed, you see.

You'd have thought he'd have looked in on me to say goodbye and thank me for

all I'd done for him.

But no.

So I never saw him.

The doctor came in before the wife went out and told me I was to stop in bed.

Anyone else call?

During the evening, I mean.

Well, only that girl.

What girl?

Well, I was in bed, see, and there was this banging on the shop door.

Well... It's all very well the doctor telling you not to get out of bed and

then you can't, but what are you supposed to do when someone comes

banging fit to break the door in? Go on.

One of his customers, it was.

I'd seen her about before.

A tall, good-looking piece.

A bit older than my girl.

Want to know what she looked like?

Well, we haven't come here for social chit-chat, Grover.

A bit of all right she was.

A kind of white skin and... Black hair with two curly bits coming over her

cheeks.

Got up in black trousers and a spotty fur coat.

All right, all right. We've got the picture.

What do you mean, banging like that, I said?

Can't you see we're closed?

Where's Ray, she says?

If he's in his room, I'll go up and root him out. You'll do no such thing, I

said. Anyway, he's not there.

She looked proper put out at that, so I asked her what she wanted him for.

I don't know whether she didn't like me asking or whether she was thinking up

some excuse.

I'm going to a party, she says, and I'm bloody late as it is, and now my car

radiator sprung a leak.

Mind you, I couldn't see no car.

Go up to his room, I thought, and him going steady with my Linda.

Well, in that case, you'd best take her to her garage, I said.

So I come out onto the pavement to have a look.

Still in my dressing gown, I was.

And there was this white sports job stuck in my sideway.

I don't drive it, she said.

I'm scared it'll blow up on me.

Did she go away?

I reckon she did. I didn't wait to see. I locked up and went back to bed.

And you heard nothing more?

Next thing I remember was the wife getting into bed and saying how Lynn had

come in half an hour before.

Where does he do this servicing of his?

In my spare garage. I've got the two, you see.

We want to see both garages. Keys?

Wife's got them.

Or maybe Lynne has.

I haven't had the car out for the best part of two weeks.

My back being so bad.

They're upstairs, anyhow.

Keys, Drayton.

I'll have the keys to the garage, Mrs. Grove.

In the kitchen. Lynn left them on the table.

You're a young fellow, aren't you?

She said you and her want the car tonight.

Don't know her dad knows that song.

I'm not ready yet.

Wait in the shop. I won't be long.

Mark.

You'll get me out with all this, won't you?

You do love me, Ben.

You took your time about it?

Quite a look.

Before we open the door, there's one little detail I'd like cleared up.

Inspector Burden was going to ask you what time Miss Margolis, the driver of

the car, called on you.

He was going to ask you, but something else came up.

Yes, between half past seven and eight, wasn't it?

Near half past seven.

Half seven? You're joking.

I told you the wife and Lynn come in just after.

Half seven, my foot. It was all of ten.

It can't have been ten.

Anita Margulis was dead at ten.

You're wrong. You mistook the times. I never. I know what the time was.

Isn't that the one that asked you?

My car's in the other one.

Well, we'll look at it all the same.

I'm staying.

Yes?

Oh, yes.

Send her in.

Oh, and I'll see Constable Drayton when she leaves.

Rupert said you thought I was dead, so I thought I'd better come in and clarify.

Miss Margolis, I presume?

And you're Inspector Wexford? No.

Chief Inspector.

Correct. Won't you sit down, Miss Margoly?

You might most rightfully if I don't. I don't feel very sitting down today.

Perhaps it's being a ghost that does it.

Perhaps. Well, I think I know most of the story. It's a really nice office,

isn't it?

Do all chief inspectors get offices like this, or did you do it yourself?

No, it's a standard issue.

Well, as I was saying, suppose I tell you what I think happened, and then you

can correct the more crashing hours.

Fine.

You went to Italy or Spain?

Perhaps Ibiza.

Positano. I flew back yesterday.

Dickie Fairfax got through 1,500 quid of mine in a week.

You may not think it to look at me, but I'm very bourgeois at heart.

Love all very well, but it's abstract, if you know what I mean.

Money's concrete, and when it's gone, it's gone.

So I abandoned him and came home.

I'm afraid he may have to throw himself on the mercy of the consul.

Perhaps Dickie's name doesn't mean anything to you.

A wild conjecture makes me suppose that he's the young man who went to

Cawthorne's and when he found you weren't there, he sallied forth to find

you, chanting passages from Omar Khayyam.

How clever of you.

You see, I had every intention of going to the party, but that bloody stupid car

of mine broke down.

I hadn't a clue there was anything wrong with it until after half past nine when

I left for the party.

Then I thought of Ray.

I knew he'd fix it for me.

But you were going to do all the talking.

Well, I can only guess.

Anstey was out.

You drove your car to the party, but it broke down before you got there.

The car conked out after about 100 yards.

I went into a cottage and got some water and filled up the radiator.

And I managed to limp mine back to the cottage.

Rupert was in bed and he hates being disturbed, so I left him a note telling

him where I was going.

Where did you leave the note?

I left it on a big piece of cartridge paper in front of some newspapers on the

kitchen table.

I suppose it got lost.

He threw it away.

The lights fused.

And he threw it away in the dark with some newspapers when he was looking for

a match.

He had some idea that we should go and clean it all up for him.

We thought it was in for a dig.

Perhaps we should have been more humble.

Well, it would have saved a lot of trouble.

Don't you ever send postcards, Miss Margolis?

Do call me Anne.

Everybody does.

As to postcards, well, I might if I was enjoying myself.

But with Dickie getting through simply millions of lira, I never got around to

it.

Poor Roo.

I'm thinking of dragging him off to Ibiza tomorrow. He's very disturbed.

And anyway, I can't wear my lovely new clothes here, can I?

Oh, I'm not quite... It's all right. I never liked it.

Are you sure?

Quite sure.

Just one more question.

That's what I've always said.

Did you ever own this?

No. It was Ray's.

And he left it in your car once after he'd serviced it?

That's right.

I gave it back to him the next day.

Meanwhile, you allowed Alan Kirkpatrick to think that it was yours.

Alan was always such a bore. Always so jealous.

A natural sucker for a tease.

Have you seen his car?

He asked me out in it. What do you think I am, I said. An exhibit for the Lord

Mayor's show.

I do tease people, I'm afraid.

You have teased us all, Miss Margolis.

I'm sorry.

You're very sweet, you know.

That's enough of that.

Goodbye, Miss Margolis.

Goodbye, Reg.

Come in.

You wanted to see me, sir?

Yes.

I see you're resigning.

Yes, sir.

I think it's the worst thing to do.

Look, Drayton, nobody supposes you made that girl any promises.

I know you better than that.

But the whole thing, well, it smells, and that's a fact.

The stench of corruption, sir.

We have to leave beyond reproach.

Good God, Mark, couldn't you drop it when I told you to?

Couldn't you put two and two together?

That alibi she gave Kirkpatrick.

When we thought he'd got at her, she was just alibying herself.

It was eight o'clock when she saw him. Not nine-thirty.

She was on her way to Ruby's house with Anthony, only Kirkpatrick didn't notice.

Grover told us that she'd gone out on Tuesday afternoon to go shopping, he

said.

Well, that was when she took the washing.

In the afternoon, not in the evening.

The evening she was leaving clear for her little visit to Ruby's house with

Anstey.

I'd begun to gasp. And you said not a word.

And all the time Anstey's body was lying in a gasp.

Didn't natural curiosity make you want to know what her ex-boyfriend was like?

They'd had a lodger for four weeks.

A small, dark lodger who went missing on the night of the murder.

Couldn't you have told us? I didn't know.

I didn't want to know.

You have to want to know, Mark.

It's the first rule of the game.

You don't have to appear in court.

I'd go away if I were you.

Go right away.

You'll forget it.

Believe me, you will.

Oh, yes.

What did she do?

Anstey held a knife to her throat.

He relied on the girl's fear and his own attraction to make her acquiescent.

Perhaps she was too frightened.

She got the knife away from him and stabbed him in her lung.

Was he dead when she got home?

I don't know.

I don't think she does.

All she knew was that one day her father would want the car and Anstey would be

found.

Before that happened, she was hoping for a miracle.

You were going to be that miracle.

You were going to get rid of the body for her.

Only we got there too soon.

Shut the car keys out ready for me.

Only we got there first, half an hour before.

I would never have done it, you know.

Not when the final crunch came, eh?

No.

You would never have done it?

What are you going to do now?