Original subtitles

I've never been one to put much faith in doctors.

I've got a couple of months, Emma.

Not much more.

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

It's as if he suddenly found a reason to go on with his life.

So the killer knew she wouldn't eat it-

it's the sort of thing that my cousin Jessica

would have thought of.

I want that relationship terminated-now!

We found him in his bed,

stiff as a board and cold as ice.

-What are you suggesting? -Poison.

Poison. Oh, good Lord!

And he suspects me.

[cheerful orchestral music]

[bell dinging]

[man and woman laughing]

That old persimmon? He's too mean to die.

[chuckles] I engaged him myself

at the music hall a few years back.

Oh, that was the sorriest three weeks of my life.

I don't know which was worse: the horses or the gin.

[laughing]

Thank you.

Ever think about goin' back up on the stage yourself, Em?

Me? Sing again?

Oh, this voice isn't what it used to be.

It's got more cracks than an old teapot.

[chuckles] Not to mention the rest of me.

Excuse me, Ms. Emma Macgill?

Yes!

The same Ms. Macgill

who played the Newberry Music Hall

the summer of 1943?

My goodness, you've got a good memory, uh--

Humphrey Defoe, Madam.

Oh, a solicitor.

I have to speak to you immediately,

on a matter of grave urgency.

Privately.

Well, we'll be off, love.

-All right, dear. -Now come on, Pru.

Tomorrow's another workin' day.

-Be seein' you, Em. -Good night, love.

-Nice meetin' you. -Come on, old girl. Come on.

Well, pull up a chair.

Thank you.

Now, what's all this about the old Newberry?

An old friend of yours

wishes to see you again, Ms. Macgill.

The 18th Viscount Blackraven.

Oh, go on with you. The viscount what of who?

Oh, you're putting me on. [laughs]

Perhaps you remember him better

as Lieutenant Geoffrey Constable.

Geoffrey? Geoffrey's a Lord?

And he wants to see me after all these years.

I've been authorized to give you this.

Oh, exciting.

A thousand pounds?

A gesture.

For your time and trouble.

Well, he must be daft...

thinkin' he has to bribe an old friend to pay a call.

He was afraid you wouldn't remember.

Oh, I remember, Mr. Defoe.

Oh, yes. I do, indeed.

And, uh, well, I'd be honored to pay a call on His Lordship.

And delighted. Good.

-9:00 tomorrow morning, then. -All right.

I'll pick you up at your flat.

Very good.

Oh, and Ms. Macgill.

There's something you should be aware of.

The urgency of which I spoke.

The viscount is dying.

He has only a short time to live.

I'll have Hoskins get your luggage.

Oh, I wasn't planning to spend the night here.

But of course you will, it's all been arranged.

-Oh. -What's the matter?

I-- I can't imagine what I was thinking.

I mean, it's 40-some-odd years ago, Mr. Defoe.

I mean, we were barely kids then.

I mean, that is to say, the way Geoffrey remembers me--

Well, I'm not exactly 19 anymore, now am I?

And the viscount isn't exactly 22.

But if I may be permitted an observation,

the years have treated you both very kindly.

[sighs] Well...

Ms. Macgill.

How do you do?

I'm Sybil Constable. Geoffrey's sister.

Oh, I'm pleased to meet you, I'm sure.

I congratulate you, Humphrey.

I was certain my brother had sent you on a fool's errand.

Mother! I will not change my plans.

Derek, I won't put up with this insolence any longer,

and nor will your father.

And I am not going to sit deathwatch

for that senile old man

who can barely remember what day it is!

Pauline, this is Ms. Macgill.

Geoffrey's friend from London.

Oh. How do you do?

Please excuse me.

[engine starts]

Derek, wait!

At least tell me where I can reach you.

Don't you understand, mother? I don't want to be reached.

[engine revving]

Geoffrey's son?

Lord, no. Grandnephew.

Pauline's been pampering him since the day he was born.

As you can see, 19 years of unbridled indulgence

have left their mark.

Humphrey, are you sure we're talking about

the same Geoffrey Constable?

My Geoffrey was so--

So real, so salt of the earth.

He was, and he is.

Sybil and Pauline are birds of a different breed.

Although Sybil came by it naturally,

Pauline had to learn it.

Before she married Arthur-- that's Geoffrey's nephew--

She was a baker's daughter.

And the local ladies have never let her forget it.

[knocking]

Come in?

Emma.

Y-your Lordship.

[laughing] Lordship?

What on earth kind of greeting is that?

[giggles]

Well, isn't she just as I described her?

Indeed.

Humphrey and I were in Burma together.

Oh, so many years ago.

You remember Burma, Emma?

Oh, yes.

Yeah. Damned war.

Haven't forgiven that wretched Tojo fellow yet.

Poor old Humphrey!

I-- I spent every waking minute in those jungles

telling him about you. Kept my sanity.

Don't know what it did to his, though.

If you'll excuse me.

By all means.

[sighs]

I can't believe this. [laughing]

Well, no, it's me, Emma.

Not quite so--

so sprightly, perhaps?

Oh, I wouldn't say that.

I think it's me the parade's passed by, love.

I mean, your Lordship.

I don't know what to call you.

[chuckling] Well, how about Geoffrey?

Sit down, sit down.

Mm-hmm.

Humphrey told you about my condition?

Oh yes, he told me,

but I've never been one to put much faith in doctors.

I can tell you--

I've got a couple of months, Emma, not much more.

No, it doesn't-- doesn't matter. I've come to terms with it.

But I did want to see you one more time before I...

I should have tried to get in touch with you before, but...

anyway, I've kept track of you, over the years.

The music hall-- I know how much you loved it.

And I read about that dreadful business

with Oliver Trumbull and his daughter.

Somehow I always thought you'd end up marrying him.

Marriage, me?

Oh, no.

Never fitted into me plans.

Never?

Now look, Emma.

I asked you down here because I wanted to tell you

about some arrangements I've made.

I've got a little house in Tuxford,

on the river Trent.

And I'd like you to have it.

It comes with a bit of income too.

-A house? -Mm-hmm.

Oh, no, I couldn't possibly accept

anything like that.

Please, Emma-- you must accept.

Look, I was-- I was married for 34 years.

A loveless, childless marriage, arranged by my father.

Oh, she was a good woman, but...

but nothing about her did ever touch my heart.

Perhaps because I'd left it behind

in a music hall in Newberry.

Charming, Arthur? That woman?

Surely you're joking.

She's not only charming, she's quite funny as well.

I thought she was common and ill-bred,

and your uncle's losing all grip on reality.

Oh, damn this tie.

Blame uncle Geoffrey, darling.

His idea, dressing for dinner.

He really does live in the past, you know.

Oh, do leave him alone, darling.

He can't last much longer.

And then you, my pet,

will be the 19th Viscount Blackraven.

And I shall expect you to behave as such.

It really does mean that much to you, doesn't it?

Do you seriously expect me to put up a plaque

at my desk at the bank saying,

"Arthur Constable,

senior partner and local viscount"?

You're making fun of me.

[chuckling] Well, of course I am.

And I don't suppose that you even care

that he's giving that woman the house in Tuxford.

Frankly, I don't. No.

Since my grandfather only died a few weeks ago,

poor old Geoffrey's days as viscount are numbered.

At least let him enjoy them.

[vehicle approaching]

[engine stops]

Oh, good Lord!

It's your brother Johnny with one of his friends.

Well, at least it'll give Ms. Macgill

someone to talk to.

Blimey, Johnny. It's like a bleedin' palace.

Aunt Syb, there's my girl!

Are you here, Humphrey?

What happened-- somebody die?

Happily, John, your uncle is reasonably well today.

Ah.

Say hello to Gwen Petrie.

Gwen, my aunt Syb.

And Humphrey Defoe, family solicitor.

Charmed.

Humphrey, perhaps Ms. Petrie would like some refreshment

after her long journey.

Yes, of course.

[Humphrey] May I fix you something, Ms. Petrie?

Oh, I could use a pint, now that you mention it.

[chuckles]

How dare you bring that woman into this house

at a time like this?

That woman?

Whatever do you mean, aunt Syb?

I mean cheap. Obvious!

Speaking of that, I hear she came...

uncle Geoffrey's music hall queen?

That is another matter entirely.

Look here, auntie.

I'm here because...

Well, things being as how they are,

I don't want to see myself get sliced out of the family pie

when uncle Geoffrey wanders off into the Great Hereafter.

[sighs]

I'm a dancer.

Well, actually, not a real dancer yet.

I'm taking lessons, four times a week,

and at three quid an hour, it ain't cheap,

I can tell ya that.

Then what?

You hope one day to perform Swan Lake

at the Royal Opera House?

Opera?

[laughing] Oh, no, Your Ladyship.

I can't sing, not a lick.

And-- and what do you do, Ms. Petrie,

when you're not studying?

Do?

Oh, you mean, like a job or something?

Well, I... Gwen is my personal assistant.

That's right.

Anything Johnny wants done, I do it.

[clears throat]

What's the matter, Em?

[whispering] Pickled herring.

Oh, it's ordered especially for you.

Emma and I found this wonderful little restaurant

just off Leicester Square.

Used to gorge ourselves there every night after the show.

Wonder what happened to that place?

Oh, they closed it down soon after you left.

There was a rash of food poisoning

from the pickled herring.

And, well, I got a touch of it myself,

and haven't been able to look a herring in the eye since.

But it was a lovely thought.

Well, please yourself, old girl.

All the more for me.

-Hmm? -Go ahead.

[unskillful piano playing]

[wrong note]

[music ends]

Th-that's excellent, Pauline. Thank you.

Now I think it'd be nice

if we had a song from one of our guests.

How about it, Emma?

-Me? -Mm-hmm.

Oh, no.

Oh, please.

Oh, but I haven't sung in years.

[laughs]

For me. Like the old days.

Splendid idea.

I agree. Please, Ms. Macgill.

Oh well, all right.

[laughs] I'll do my best, but--

[chuckling] my pipes are a bit rusty.

Ta.

[knuckles cracking]

[begins playing piano]

[singing English folk song]

♪ Early one morning ♪

♪ just as the sun was rising ♪

That's lovely, Em.

But it's not what I want to hear.

Play-- you know, you know.

Oh, Geoffrey, not here.

I-it's so many years ago, I--

I'm not sure I can remember the words.

Well, I can.

[chord]

♪ I don't know why I am so very shy ♪

♪ I always was demure ♪

♪ I never knew what silly lovers do ♪

♪ no flirting I'd endure ♪

♪ in all my life I never kissed a man ♪

♪ I never winked my eye ♪

♪ but now, at last, I'm going to break the ice ♪

♪ so 'ow'd you like to try ♪

♪ 'ow'd you like to spoon with me ♪

♪ 'ow'd you like to spoon with me ♪

I would.

♪ Sit beneath an oak tree large And shady ♪

♪ call me little tootsie wootsie, baby ♪

♪ 'ow'd you like to hug and squeeze ♪

I would.

♪ Dangle me upon your knees ♪

♪ how'd you like to be my lovey-dovey ♪

♪ 'ow'd you like to spoon with me ♪

[music ends]

Oh, that woman!

Pauline, please.

It's late, and we're both tired.

You actually seemed to enjoy her!

[chuckling] Yes, I did.

And I suppose you think your uncle also should have

married her 40 years ago.

Darling, he's a dying man.

Let him have these last moments.

And let her have that house in Tuxford as well?

God, no, Arthur.

Over my dead body does she get anything out of this family.

Now. Ever.

[crow cawing]

I studied voice, oh, ever so long.

But Mrs. Shaughnessy-- that was my teacher--

She said I had a constricted larynx,

or something like that.

Well, there's lots of other teachers.

I mean, maybe you should have engaged somebody else.

I did.

This French fella

said he was gonna teach me how to breathe.

I said, I know how to breathe, my good man.

If I didn't know how to breathe,

how was it I was talkin' to him 'stead of pushin' up daisies?

[laughing]

Breathe, indeed.

Derek.

'Morning, aunt Sybil.

I know I look bloody awful.

Well, I don't feel much better.

Good morning, uncle John.

Good morning, Derek.

Care for a spot of coffee, or something stronger?

Hair of the dog?

I'll settle for a hot shower--

[yawning] and a warm bed.

I thought you had plans.

Yeah, the lady and I had a tiff.

Well, I see we're all here...

awaiting the inevitable.

And how is the old boy?

Much better, actually.

I've just examined your uncle, and--

Well, I can't explain it, actually.

His blood pressure's normal,

his heartbeat regular, his eyes clear.

Oh, thank the Lord.

Well, that's one explanation.

I certainly don't take any credit for it.

[chuckles]

It's as if he's suddenly found a reason to go on with his life.

You mean he's actually getting better?

Well, if what I just saw is any indication,

the viscount could go on living for another 20 years.

Good morning, good morning.

There you are, Em!

My, you look chipper this morning.

Yes, brother. I've never seen you better.

Nor I, and I'm delighted.

Well, I can't spend the rest of my life

rolling around in that wretched chair.

Well, why don't I fix you some nice scrambled eggs

with sausages?

Just coffee for me, Em.

I don't want to spoil my appetite.

Well, you've got to eat something.

Oh, I intend to. We're going on a picnic.

Oh, splendid idea, uncle Geoffrey.

Emma and I.

You scare up your own entertainment.

Now, Sir, really, I must insist--

Blandings, when I want a medical opinion,

I'll ask for it.

Food: that's your department, my girl.

So you hop off to the kitchen.

We don't want to waste any more of this beautiful day.

No.

[laughing]

Oh, my old dad would rap me

over the knuckles properly, would he.

He'd say to me, "Emma darlin'," he'd say,

"it's unlikely you'll ever become a lady,

but there's no reason why you shouldn't behave like one."

[laughs]

[chuckling] I think I would have liked him.

Oh, you two,

you would have gotten along like bread and cheese.

I'm not quite so sure about the rest of your family.

Ah well, you have to understand, Emma,

that snobbery runs in the family.

It's an inherited gene.

Well, Arthur's not so bad, I suppose.

But easily the best of the whole bunch

was my old father, Rupert, the 17th viscount.

He died just a few weeks ago, did I tell you that?

No!

Yes, good old boy.

He loved good women, good whiskey,

bad cigars, and chocolates.

[chuckling]

And they finally got to him.

But he was 87 years old at the time.

That's something for you to aspire to.

Towards the end,

Dr. Blandings tried to keep all those--

those sort of things away from him.

Had him on boiled beef and vegetables.

But the old boy still managed to sneak in a few chocolates

and some brandy, and had himself a midnight feast

long after everybody else in the house--

[chuckling] Oh, go on.

Yes! Thought he was tucked up safely in bed.

[laughing]

And then one day, it was six weeks ago on Sunday--

We found him in his bed,

stiff as a board and cold as ice.

-Oh. -Mmm.

And a half-filled brandy snifter on the night table

and chocolate wrappers all over the floor.

Oh, dear.

Oh, there it is, over there. There. There.

--it is your fault, Humphrey, for bringing that woman here.

I was merely following your brother's wishes.

But was it necessary to find her?

You should have shown more sense.

Pauline, must you? What is done is done.

No, Humphrey, I expect you to see it's undone.

I beg your pardon?

My brother is a hopeless romantic.

If we don't sever this relationship now,

Lord only knows what might happen.

Yes, I should certainly hope so.

I'm grateful to have been able to arrange this reunion, Sybil.

Very grateful.

You see, many years ago,

I was the one who persuaded Geoffrey

not to return to Ms. Macgill after the war.

I have never regretted anything more in my life

than thwarting that romance.

We are all very much aware

it was you who smuggled brandy in to our father Rupert,

against doctor's orders.

I saw no harm.

When my brother passes on,

the family will decide

whether or not to retain your services.

I suggest you consider very carefully

just where your loyalties lie.

I want that relationship terminated.

Now!

[cork pops]

Nice pickled herring, just the way you like it.

[chuckling]

This is a treat, Em.

-Whoo! -[chuckles]

[laughs]

Looks lovely and cool.

Now, before we start--

To you, Em.

And to one of the happiest days I've spent in years.

To even better days.

And you're welcome to all of that,

because I'm just going to have

a nice peach and a bit of cheese.

What did you mean by that, even better days?

Well, what the doctor said, about how well you looked.

You've got many good years ahead of you, Geoffrey.

There's no doubt about it.

Well, they could be good years, Em,

if I had someone to share them with.

[laughs]

[Geoffrey] Know what I'm driving at?

-Now don't be silly. -[Geoffrey] No, I'm not being silly.

I mean, who's gonna stop us? Family?

Well, the devil with them.

No, we've-- we've wasted precious years, Em.

Let's not go on making fools of ourselves.

[grunts]

Geoffrey? Geoffrey, what is it?

[groaning]

Geoffrey!

Oh, I can't, can't breathe.

We must get you to the doctor.

Go for help. Go! Now!

[groans]

Everything is just the way we found it, inspector.

What about the woman that was with him?

Ms. Macgill? Back at Blackraven.

I thought it best she not return to the scene.

And the family, how much do they know?

Oh, nothing yet.

Ironic... heart attack,

and only this morning he was feeling so chipper

I thought he could go on for another decade.

A heart attack?

That's what you think, doctor?

Why, yes, I've--

I want an autopsy performed as soon as possible.

Inspector, may I remind you this is--

was...

The Viscount Blackraven.

I don't care if he was the bleedin' Duke of York.

Sergeant, collect this food, all of it.

I want a laboratory analysis on my desk

by the end of the day.

Inspector, surely you don't suspect--

Doctor, the autopsy.

Inspector Frost.

I'm Sybil Constable, Inspector.

My brother?

I'm afraid we were too late, Madam.

My condolences to you and to the rest of the family.

Thank you, Inspector.

The viscount had been ill for quite some time.

His death was not totally unexpected.

With your permission, Ma'am,

I should like to talk to a miss...

Emma Macgill.

She's on the terrace.

Ah, thank you.

Inspector,

I'm Pauline Constable, wife of the new Viscount.

If you have any questions, please direct them to me.

I will talk to Ms. Macgill myself.

Excuse me.

Insolent little man.

Dead?

I'm afraid so.

Oh, no!

Oh!

[crying]

If it's any comfort to you, Ms. Macgill,

he died almost immediately.

There was nothing you could have done for him.

I do have some questions I have to ask,

in, uh... private.

I think I'll stay, if you don't mind, Inspector.

Emma needs a steady arm to lean on just now.

And you are who, Sir?

Humphrey Defoe.

Oh, yes. You're the family solicitor.

Yes, Mr. Defoe, perhaps you should stay.

Ms. Macgill, this picnic, whose idea was it?

It was Geoffrey's.

I see.

And who prepared the food?

I did.

-Did you have any help? -Oh, not a bit.

I mean, they gave me the run of the kitchen,

as it were.

In fact, Inspector, is there any point

to all these questions?

Yes, Sir.

We're not absolutely certain

that the victim died of natural causes.

What?

There was a sallowness to the skin,

a sort of cloudiness in the eyes,

and some of the food smelled tainted.

What are you suggesting?

Poison, Mr. Defoe.

Of course, we won't know anything certain

until the results of the autopsy have been disclosed.

I hope I'm wrong.

But please keep yourself available.

Poison?

Oh, good Lord.

And he suspects me.

Let me assure you again, Pauline,

how much I deplore the dreadful behavior

of some members of the Flower and Garden Society.

Well, I shall personally make certain

that those unfortunate incidents are not repeated.

How very kind.

Several of us would like to invite you to luncheon.

Perhaps tomorrow?

Oh. Oh, but of course.

I had merely assumed--

I think it's time that the ladies of the shire

got acquainted with the, uh, new viscountess.

Shall we say your house, Mrs. Dexter-Hundley?

I like to eat precisely at 1:00 sharp.

Something light.

I always believed that we should try

to, uh, watch our waistlines.

Oh, yes, of course, Viscountess.

Oh, thank you. Bye-bye.

Arthur, please hurry! We'll be late for the vicar.

[bell tolling]

It seems like only a few days ago

we gathered here to put to rest your dear father Rupert.

It was a few months ago, Reverend Twilley,

and after all, he was 87 years old.

Oh, but a strong and energetic man nonetheless.

I have heard rumors, untrue, I'm sure,

that Geoffrey may have been the victim of foul play.

You'd have to ask Inspector Frost about that, Vicar.

Oh, I'm sorry, Sir Arthur, I meant no offense.

For pity's sakes, Vicar, do drop all this title business.

But, Sir, you have succeeded to the title.

I'm afraid my wife is more enthusiastic about that

than I am.

[horse whinnying]

Derek, don't you think this is a bit inappropriate?

Sorry, aunt Sybil. Can't be helped.

I hate to bother you, mother,

but Georgie Tompkins is organizing a trip to Grenoble,

and, well, I need a few hundred pounds.

We'll discuss it later.

No, Pauline, we will discuss it now.

First, school was too taxing for you, Derek,

and then working in the bank

was obviously beyond your skills as well.

Arthur.

It seems that your interests are limited to skiing, tennis,

and romantic entanglements.

Well, I'm sorry, but the dole has dried out.

And from now on, if you want money

to finance your frivolous lifestyle,

you're gonna have to earn it.

Doing what?

I haven't the foggiest notion.

Arthur, you and I will chat about this privately,

back at the manor.

No, Pauline.

I am Viscount Blackraven now.

A title which one day will pass to you, Derek.

And I intend to see that you become worthy of the succession.

Fine, father, whatever you say.

Meanwhile, what do I tell Georgie and the others?

Tell them to have a nice trip.

Strychnine: the herring was laced with it.

Enough to kill an elephant.

Oh, dear. Poor Geoffrey.

Inspector, if it is your intention

to charge Ms. Macgill--

No, it isn't, Sir. Not at the moment, anyway.

The family were very quick to tell me

about your inheritance, Ms. Macgill.

And as you suspect,

they are all convinced that you are responsible.

However, I don't share that dim view.

But I must insist, Ma'am,

that you are totally candid with me.

Oh, yes, Sir.

This herring: I understand that it was a great favorite

of the late viscount.

He mentioned it at dinner last night.

Oh, yes, he did.

I couldn't stand the sight of it, meself.

So this morning, you prepared this herring?

Yes, I--

Well, I just used what was left over

from last night.

Hmm. I see.

So you packed the basket, and then what?

Well, then I went upstairs

to get into something more comfortable for the picnic.

Leaving the basket unattended.

For how long, would you say?

I see.

You are suggesting that anyone in the house

could have doctored the food with poison.

Oh, not the food, Mr. Defoe--

The herring. Specifically the herring.

You see, Ms. Macgill had made a big point about not liking it.

Everybody at the table must have heard you.

So the killer knew she wouldn't eat it.

Making her a perfect foil for a murder charge.

I would correct you only on one point, Inspector.

Not everyone heard Ms. Macgill's comments

-about the herring. -Hmm.

Young Derek was out of the house last evening,

as I was.

One of the family killed Geoffrey?

But why? He was such a dear, sweet man.

[chuckles]

Where money is concerned, or a title for the taking,

the human race is capable of practically anything.

Oh, dear me.

What is it, Ms. Macgill?

Oh, nothing-- I was--

I was just remembering something that Geoffrey had said to me.

Yes?

Oh, no, I'm being very, very suspicious,

and that's not like me, not one bit.

Oh, Emma, please.

Whatever it is, for your own sake,

share it with us.

Well, Sir, it's about what you said.

You know, about titles and money and all.

I mean, if someone was--

was desperate enough to have poisoned Geoffrey...

might not they also have poisoned

the old gentleman as well?

You mean Rupert?

Emma, he was 87. He died in his sleep.

Maybe he did, Humphrey,

but maybe he didn't.

Now, Geoffrey told me

that his dad had this habit of drinking brandy

and eating chocolates just before he went to sleep.

He also said that when they found him in the morning,

his body was ice cold.

Now that says to me

that he must have been dead for quite some time.

That's nonsense.

Is it?

I think Ms. Macgill has made a very good point.

Well, it's the sort of thing

that my cousin Jessica would have thought of.

Cousin Jessica?

A mystery novelist.

And something of an amateur detective.

Well, Madam, there is nothing amateurish

about your supposition.

Nothing whatsoever.

Exhume my grandfather's body?

Inspector, you overstep your authority.

On the contrary, Sir.

As I've just told you,

the autopsy we conducted

on the late Geoffrey Constable...

does reveal large doses of poison in his system.

Poison administered during a picnic luncheon

with Ms. Macgill.

Obviously, that woman murdered my brother

to protect the inheritance he'd promised her.

No, Madam,

what is obvious is that two Viscounts Blackraven

have died within months of each other,

both in very mysterious circumstances.

And I have to satisfy myself that there is no connection.

Hoskins?

[hose spraying loudly]

-Hoskins! -Oh, good morning, Ma'am.

Make sure the car is absolutely spotless.

I have a luncheon engagement at 1:00.

I shall be leaving the house promptly at 12:45.

Do you wish me to drive you, Ma'am?

No, that won't be necessary.

[grunting]

Good morning, Pauline.

I didn't expect to see you here, Ernest.

I thought you'd be at the churchyard.

[Ernest] I came by to pick up Ms. Macgill.

Ah, here she is.

I needn't tell you how distressed I am

about this whole business.

So am I, I assure you.

Good morning.

-Good morning. -Good morning.

[sighs] Oh, that poor woman.

She really does think that I bumped off dear old Geoffrey.

They're all under a terrible strain.

This business of the exhumation--

That inspector is out of his bloody mind.

Johnny?

Good morning.

Not planning to shoot someone, I hope.

That would give the inspector something to talk about.

No.

Derek and I are going to do a little shooting

at Brinley Woods.

Oh!

Do you think that's appropriate,

considering the events of the last two days?

No less appropriate than your luncheon

to lord it over the ladies of the shire.

I've never been one for false sentimentality, Pauline.

Neither have you.

Let's not start now.

[bell tolling]

Inspector, is this desecration really necessary?

If it wasn't, Reverend, I wouldn't be here.

Oh, dear, I feel very nervous. What if I'm wrong?

You mean, what if we're wrong, Ms. Macgill.

Actually, the more chilling question is,

what if we're right?

[engine stopping]

[car door closes]

I see no evidence of the family.

Oh, they're an angry lot.

I think they'd like to kill me.

If you're right, at least one of them would.

Johnny Constable.

You've learned something?

My friends in London tell me that young Mr. Constable,

the budding real estate tycoon,

is involved with some very shady people

from the Middle East.

He has money problems, Emma.

Perhaps severe enough to kill for,

but I couldn't get any details.

Well, could be you've been asking the wrong person.

[Gwen] Oh, I'm not afraid of work, Emma.

[Emma] And dedication too.

No time for anything else-- home, friends, family.

Forget all of that.

Oh, that's all right with me.

Oh, and how does Johnny feel about that?

I mean, I felt that-- well, you and he--

[chuckles]

A fool could see, from the way he looks at you.

[chuckles] Oh, Johnny's all right.

He'll understand.

I couldn't help but notice

that he seemed a bit, you know, put off.

Are things not going so well for him?

Dreadful, I can tell you.

He's in deep with these arab fellas.

Promised 'em all sorts of things, he did,

and now he can't deliver.

Nasty people, the lot of 'em.

Oh, dear.

Johnny came this weekend

to borrow 100,000 quid from his uncle,

but the old gentleman died

before he had a chance to talk to him.

He was so sure he'd get the money,

especially after what happened to the other gentleman.

His great uncle Rupert?

A couple of months ago,

Johnny tried to borrow the money from old Rupert.

Turned Johnny down flat, he did,

and after all Johnny'd been doin' for him,

bringin' him those chocolate bonbons

from London all the time.

Bonbons?

Well, I must say, that was very considerate of him.

Oh, there was holy ned to pay

when Sybil and Pauline found out about it,

but Johnny didn't care.

He was just tryin' to make the old gentleman happy

in his last days.

Yes.

And then, to turn Johnny down like that.

Oh, Johnny was mad, I can tell you that.

Oh, yes.

Gwen...

Emma! There you are.

Humphrey! What is it?

We must return to the manor at once.

There's been a hunting accident.

Young Derek Constable has just been shot.

Derek, shot? By who?

I don't have any details.

I only learned of it just now, from the sergeant of police.

I must locate Pauline.

Well, she was going to have lunch with somebody--

a Mrs. Dexter-something-or-other.

-Dexter-Hundley. -That's it.

She lives only a few minutes from here.

We'll stop by. Let's go.

We'd better hustle.

[starting, revving engine]

[car speeding away]

Luckily, I caught her before they started to eat.

Oh? I thought--

I also called the manor.

Derek's wound was slight.

He'd been out hunting with his uncle Johnny.

-[sighs] -Johnny?

Ernest-- Derek?

He's all right, Pauline. It's just a flesh wound.

He'll be fine in a few days.

Oh!

-Derek, are you all right? -Luckily.

-What happened? -Isn't it obvious?

Uncle Johnny mistook me for a deer or something.

-I didn't shoot you, Derek. -So you keep saying.

I heard a shot; I thought somebody--

All right, gentlemen, all right.

Why in god's name would I want to shoot you, Derek?

Isn't it obvious?

With my son Derek out of the way,

you stand in line to inherit the title

right after my husband Arthur.

Pauline, you're off your head, love.

Am I, Johnny?

Everyone knows that you need money.

Poor old Geoffrey was poisoned.

And much as the idea sickens me,

Rupert may have been poisoned as well.

-What is it? -Not by me.

Inspector, I don't think that he did it.

No?

Pauline, that's a monstrous suggestion.

I agree.

Things are difficult enough without accusing each other.

-You tell 'em, your Lordship. -Gwen...

my Johnny might be a bit on the gamy side, I'll admit.

But he didn't shoot anyone.

Thank you, Ms. Petrie, for that contribution.

Don't be such a bloody snob.

Watch your tongue, Johnny.

Arthur, I did not shoot your son.

Well, somebody did.

I did not imagine this bullet hole.

Gentlemen, ladies.

Could I have your attention please?

Thank you.

I think justice will best be served

if Mr. Constable here comes with me down to the station.

Like bloody hell I will.

I'm putting that in the form of a request, Sir.

If you prefer, I'll place you under arrest.

Why not?

I have nothing to hide.

Wait, Johnny. I'm coming with you.

Well, I'm nearly packed,

and the inspector says I'm free to go.

-Did he? -Yes, I'll just get my things.

[car starting]

I can't believe this.

My own brother.

Oh, Frost's a very obstinate man, Arthur.

If I were your brother,

I'd retain a barrister immediately.

-Really? -No telling what may happen.

I could recommend someone.

It's okay.

Edgar March will be home by now.

I'll--

I'll go round to his place.

I'll-- I'll ring you from Edgar's, darling.

Chin up!

Can I get you something, pet?

No. I've had enough of this for one day.

I'm going upstairs to lie down.

Don't bother calling me for supper.

Ah, Emma.

Ready already?

Oh, as well as I'll ever be.

There's a 4:45 to London, Ms. Macgill.

Do hurry-- I wouldn't want you to miss it.

Oh, on that we agree.

[engine cranking]

Oh, what a pity. It won't start.

It seldom will when you remove the distributor cap.

Well, Emma, wish us both luck.

Oh, Pauline, it won't start.

May I borrow your car?

Well, why don't you take Derek's?

I can't fit in it. Where are the keys?

-Ah, here they are. -No!

I mean, I'd rather you didn't.

Pauline, for heaven's sakes, let's get her to that train.

Is there some reason

why we shouldn't borrow your car, Mrs. Constable?

[scoffs] Of course not.

Then what appears to be the problem?

I saw you drive away.

That was my sergeant.

Do you have any objection to my looking in the trunk,

Mrs. Constable?

I could send for a court order if needs be, Ma'am.

Inspector, what is the meaning of this?

Uh, Ms. Macgill says that she observed this car

being washed this morning, Mrs. Constable. Is that true?

Yes, but I--

Then perhaps you could explain why you have mud on your tires.

Were you perhaps driving through the forest?

Perhaps through Brinley Woods? No!

You left this house at 12:45,

for a short trip to Mrs. Dexter-Hundley's

for a luncheon that started at 1:00 sharp.

However, at 1:35, lunch had not been served.

Why?

Because the guest of honor: you, Mrs. Constable,

had not arrived.

At least 35 minutes unaccounted for.

Could you tell me where you were during those 35 minutes?

That car is registered to me, Inspector.

Open the boot.

Excuse me.

Tried to kill your own son?

No!

I wouldn't hurt him. Not seriously.

But I had to do something!

I had to make them think it was Johnny who--

Who what, killed my father and my brother?

Oh, don't you look at me like that.

You have always been the great lady.

You don't know what it's like to have people laughing at you

behind your back

because you're a baker's daughter

and you won't be anything else.

Well, I am something else!

I'm the wife of the 19th Viscount Blackraven.

And I--

[weeping]

I'll take her inside, Inspector.

I'm sorry, Ms. Macgill.

Truly sorry.

Smartly done, Ms. Macgill.

If you hadn't noticed the mud on the tires...

Have you ever considered becoming a detective?

Me?

Oh, go on with you.

No, really.

You have a knack for it.

[Emma] Do I?

Well, let's just say...

it runs in the family.