All language subtitles for Agatha Christie s Marple - 2x01 - Sleeping Murder.HDTV.en

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I'm Kelvin Halliday, Third Secretary.

Sergeant Desai, Traffic Police.

I'm afraid it's your wife, Mr Halliday.

The very worst news, my good sir.

Her car left the road
at the Chamber Valley Bridge

and she plunged into the gorge.

Oh, Clare.

It's not the first time there,
for such a tragedy.

Was Gwenda with her-- our child?

Fortunately, no.

Oh, thank God.

* Am I Blue? *

*Am I blue? *

* Ain't these tears in my eyes*

*Telling you? *

* Am I blue? *

Telegram. Urgent.

From Charles Vanstone,
British India Holdings, Delhi,

to Miss Gwenda Halliday,
passenger, SS Dominion,

bound Southampton, England.

Darling Gwennie

regret too busy take
yesterday's flight as planned.

Pressure of work, so still In India.

Should have sailed with you,
my precious, after all.

Therefore unable meet you
Southampton.

Mr Hugh Hornbeam, London office,
instructed welcome

and make final wedding preparations.

- So sorry.
- Gather Hornbeam jolly good chap.

Desperately sorry not to

share your first visit to dear old England.

Your very own, Charles.

Have told Hornbeam,

just look for prettiest girl
in whole wide world.

Ah, welcome to England, Miss Halliday.

Darling! Darling!

So sorry.

I'm so sorry.

Oh, golly. Are you she?

- Are you him?
- Yes.

Welcome to England, Miss Halliday.

You don't believe in travelling light?

My life is in my luggage.
I'm not here on holiday.

No.

And um...congratulations
on your forthcoming marriage.

Thank you.

Where's best for a house?

Charles will have a pied-a-terre
in London,

but for our family home,

I want the ocean, such sunshine
as there may be, and views.

I want England, Mr Hornbeam.

At long, long last.

If we turn right at the sea,

there is Devon.

You won't find anything there.
It's the back of beyond.

Torquay's a better bet.

No, I think we should look in Dillmouth.

I'm sure it's charming

but Torquay has a decent hotel
and reputable estate agents.

- We'll get a list of suitable properties...
- No.

That way.

But...

Instinct.

I always follow my instinct.

Drive on.

Thank you.

Shouldn't there be a pier?

I expect the Germans bombed it.

Why?

To stop people having fun.

Is England anything like you expected?

I'm not sure what I expected.

How long have you worked
for Charles's company?

Seven years now.

I started at Vanstone International
after the war.

Work that for me, will you?

Oh, yes!

The view.

The view!

This will be our bedroom.

Next door would make
a wonderful dressing room.

Perhaps we could knock through.

What's this way?

What's up here?

I thought so. Simply perfect
for a nursery-- eventually.

Grim colour, though.

More cheerful wallpaper is what it needs.

Something pretty
like poppies and cornflowers.

Where did I see that? In a magazine?

It feels like home already.

This is my house.

Fix it.

Yes. Righty-ho.

The Ellsworthys only moved out
last month.

Mr Fane thought it'd be hard to shift.

Oh. It's Mr Fane's lucky day, then,
isn't it, George?

What's the matter?

Tell me, did someone die in this house?

Um...no.

Er...Yes... I mean...um...

Did they?

I mean, I expect they must have, miss.
It's ever so old.

Mr Hornbeam!

- Next door!
- I'm coming through!

That's the second time I've done that.

It weren't in the original estimate, sir.

Help me decide, will you?

Well, I don't know.

Oh, Mr Simms,

would it be possible to put a door
between these rooms

in that wall?

Don't see why not.

Now, there's this for the hall.

- What do you think?
- Gosh...

But is it too fussy? I hate fussy.

- Or there's this one.
- Looks... fine to me.

Really?

Or are you just saying that?

Well, I'm blowed.

There's a door here already.

It's been boarded over.

You must be psychic.

It's silly, your staying in a hotel tonight,
isn't it?

You could get yourself a camp bed
and some blankets.

I'm quite happy in the hotel.

But if you're feeling nervous...

No. It would just be more convenient,
that's all.

Do you need to telephone a wife
or...someone like that?

Oh, no-one like that.

It's only the breeze!

The... The window was open.

Then please close it.

Can't you sleep?

I thought I'd telephone Charles.

I could make you some cocoa.

No. Charles.

Well...not too sweet.

I got that nursery cupboard open for you.

You can see the old wallpaper.

Much more cheerful and pretty,
it must have been, that room.

Poppies and cornflowers.

Popples and cornflowers.
Popples and cornflowers.

Miss Halliday!

Are you all right, Miss Halliday?

Thank you, Mr Hornbeam.

Gwennie! No, I'm sure
you didn't imagine it, darling.

I can't. Not just like that.

I still don't know exactly when
I'll be able to join you.

I need you too, but...
Put Hornbeam on, will you?

Yes, sir, but it's hardly a police matter.

What sort of investigator?

Just someone who'll take her seriously,
or pretend to,

and for God's sake, try and cheer her up!

Let's go to the theatre.

Rookery Nook's on
and I love a rollicking farce,

I don't know about you.

Ah, yes, Operator.
St Mary Mead 235, please.

What exactly does she do?

Solves things.

The Duchess of Malfi?

It doesn't sound like a farce.

I must have got the wrong week.

Oh, well, we're here now.

Oh, Hugh.

Oh! Are you well?

Is that her?

Yes.

How very nice to meet you, Miss Halliday.

Hello.

l'm Jane Marple.

Pull. And pull strongly.

For your able strength
must pull down heaven upon me.

But stay.

Heaven's gates are not
so highly arched as prince's palaces.

They that enter
there must go upon their knees.

Come, vloient death.

Serve for mandragora to make me sleep.

Go tell my brothers when I am laid out

they then may feed in quiet.

Helen!

I saw her again, being strangled.

Who?

- Helen.
- Who's Helen?

Miss Halliday, who's Helen?

Strangling is a very quiet death.

She was no older than 30, I'd say.

What do you remember?

Helen.

Whoever she is or was.

I couldn't see who was strangling her.

I wonder...what her furniture was like.

Furniture?

Here in the hall.

There was a coat stand... and a side table.

A coat stand? Was there a coat?

Or a hat?

A woman's hat. Pre-war style.

May I know your age, Miss Halliday?

Twenty-one.

I think you saw a memory
from when you were a child

who looked through banisters,
not over them,

and whose nursery wallpaper
was poppies and cornflowers.

A child who saw a murder in this very house.

I've never been in this house before.

I've never set foot in England before now.

There is that.

Are you quite sure?

Of course I'm sure.

Breakfast's getting cold.

Your scrambled eggs are like rubber.

I have advertised for someone.

I didn't really train to be a...

Do go on, Miss Halliday.

This is the first time
I have been outside of India.

My father, Kelvin, was a diplomat there.

My mother died in an accident
when I was a baby

and Daddy two years later
of a heart attack.

I do just about remember him

but it was his sister who brought me up.

If it was a... a haunting,

we could find out who owned this house,
from the solicitors.

Well, it's a start.

Will you come and see Mr Fane with us,
Miss Marple?

You could give me a lift into the town.

But what I really need is some wool.

Dillmouth's changed so much
since I was last here.

When was that?

Oh, it must be 18 years ago.

Do you want the extra two ounces,
be on the safe side?

Yes, please.

I stayed with friends
on the Leahampton Road.

Hillside, their house was called.

Oh, I know Hillside.

Very well-run household.

Such obliging girls in service, they had.

Now...what were their names?

Mr Fane's out.

When will he be back?

All we want is a glance at the Hillside file.

I'm meant to be tidying up.

Oh, don't let us stop you.

I don't like being watched.

We'll close our eyes.

Look, we don't have time
to wait for Mr Fane.

I think it was in that filing cabinet there.

Where should I look?

Let's try H for Hillside, shall we?

I really don't think it's a good idea, sir.

Mr Fane will be back soon.

Oh, it won't take a moment, George.

E...F...G...H. Ah, here we are.

It changed hands in 1934
and was bought by...

What?

It was bought by Kelvin Halliday.

Is that your idea of a joke,
Mr Hornbeam?

No.

- Mr Fane.
- Mr Hornbeam.

I had to run out. Mother's library books.

Problem?

No, Mr Fane. Thank you.

We were just coming to meet you.

This is um...Mrs Pagett.

Cook-housekeeper at Hillside in 1934.

Darling Gwynnie! After all these years!

You won't remember me, of course.

You were such a lovely little girl.

When Lily's about her other duties,

I'd expect you to help with my daughter.

Poor little motherless mite.

At least you're bringing her up
in good old England, sir.

And you're still young.

Very handsome man, your father.

And it didn't take him long
to find a young lady.

Is this a refrigerator?

Yes.

So could you start tomorrow?

All right, then.

I'll look after you.

What young lady?

I say "lady"...

Helen were her name.

Helen?

Helen Marsden.
Him a gent, her a theatrical.

See, we used to have a show
on the pier of a summer.

Me and Lily, the housemaid,
we used to love It.

*What's that sound I hear again? *

* There's laughter on the pier again*

* It must be that time of year again*

* When the Funnybones say hello*

Every year, they used to come.

They were all so talented.

*..a show to entertain you-ou-ou*

- There were Jackie Afflick.
- Listen, listen...

He were a laugh.

And he didn't just play the piano.

He said,"That's no dog,
that's a scrubbing brush."

He were a scream.

- Lionel Luff.
- Are you ready?

You could never see how he done it.

Little Evle Ballantyne.

Don't know how she found the energy.

Quite a novelty.

*You will answer...*

The Erskines were in charge of the Funnybones.

Janet could have done opera with her voice.

And Dickie could have been
in films with his looks.

*...offer my love to you... *

He were Lily's favourite.

*...I will be blue *

Sounds like a jolly good night out,
Mrs Pagett...

And Helen Marsden.

* If I do wrong
when I take you and kiss you *

* Then doing wrong's the right thing for me *

She and your father had got engaged.

I was never told any of this
when I was growing up.

I don't understand, Mrs Pagett.

Did the three of us go back to India?

Just you.

I think it's best you hear it from family.
It's not far.

RMPA? He's a trick cyclist.

A what?

A psychiatrist.

Yes?

I believe you're my Uncle James.

You're so like your mother.

So like my dear Clare.

Do you think Miss Halliday
somehow was drawn

to Hillside by her subconscious?

Possibly.

Unless it was what we psychiatrists
call a coincidence.

I'm so thrilled to see you again.

Why was I sent back to India alone?

Oh, Gwenda, where to start...

Your mother and I were very close.

Your grandparents died young

and I more or less brought Clare up.

When she came of age,
she took off to India to be governess,

and met your father, married and had you.

And then he wrote...
informing me of her death.

Her car had gone off the bridge
at the Chamber Valley Gorge.

The following year, he wrote again,
from Dillmouth.

He'd moved here with you
and got engaged.

Rather too soon after Clare's death,
to my mind

and to an entertainer.

But I accepted invitation to come down
and meet them both.

This is James Kennedy.

James.

Helen.

- Kelvin speaks so lovingly of your sister.
- Dear Clare.

If I can make him as happy as she did.

We got on like a house on fire.

I'd been looking for somewhere to set up
in general practice

Dillmouth fitted the bill,
so I moved here.

- You weren't always a psychiatrist?
- No.

I eventually realised
it was the mind that fascinated me,

and not the body, and since the war...

Mm. The mental wounds.

What some of our chaps went through.

After a few weeks, we became firm friends.

- Cheers.
- Kelvin asked me to be his best man.

Here she comes.

They'd be married in the morning.
There was a little party.

But there would never be a wedding.

Don't be late tomorrow

or you'll never make an honest man of me.

Kelvin went home to Hillside

and I came here and fell asleep with a book.

Then, around dawn,
Kelvin telephoned in a terrible state.

He'd got up in the middle of the night

and noticed Helen's suitcase
and her clothes had vanished.

She wasn't at the digs
where they were all staying.

Nobody knew where she'd got to.

We waited and waited outside the town hall.

But she never came.

Kelvin was devastated.

He took to walking for hours every day
up on the cliffs,

trying to find some sort of answer
for himself.

And then she sent him a postcard
from London.

No address, no explanation.

It just said she was happy
and not to look for her.

The police found it at Hillside after...

.. after they'd discovered his body

at the foot of the cliffs.

I'm so sorry, Gwenda.

You were sent back to your aunt in India.

And we agreed
you need never be burdened

with the true circumstances
of your father's death.

Do you um...

have a photograph of Helen,
by any chance?

Yes. Yes.

- It's her.
- I don't understand.

I saw her strangled.

It's in here somewhere.

I remember
that dreadful day it came, miss.

Here. I should have torn it up,

just like she tore his poor heart in two.

Didn't deserve that, the dear man.

"I'm sorry, Kelvin, darling.

Please don't ever try to find me.

I'm happy now. Helen. "

- Here, let me.
- No!

I'm sorry, Hugh.

1896-1934

- It's me.
- Come in.

How's Mr Hornbeam?

Asleep.

It's all I have of my mother's.

Lovely.

I promised myself I wouldn't wear it
until my wedding day.

Must be tempting.

I shouldn't really care about her,
should I?

But she was murdered.

I don't care about the postcard.
Postcards can be forged.

They certainly can be.

But...

.. it was a long time ago.

Do you really want to rake up the past?

Who knows what else we may find?

- Good morning.
- Good morning.

Did the seagulls wake you up, too?
Don't they squabble!

I slept like a lamb.

Oh, and Charles telephoned.
He'll be arriving on the 17th,

so get on with the wedding arrangements
as we discussed.

What did he make of your discovery?

He has enough on his plate.

The weather is beautiful.

I'll walk. I won't take the car.

- Where are you going?
- To my uncle's.

God's in his heaven and all's right
with the world.

I don't think.

Did she say anything
about the possibility her father...

Her father committed suicide because
he'd murdered Helen?

Not yet.

Tea?

Are you sure you don't prefer
a glass of fresh cold milk

- straight from the refrigerator?
- No, thank you.

Right you are.

Where was I?

Miss Marsden.

We rubbed along all right

but he were a gentleman and she weren't,

if you take my meaning.

But she were wonderfully loving with Gwennie.

So good with her, I'll say that,
even though she wasn't her own.

Class will out, though, won't it?

She got a little bit above herself,
is my opinion.

Even ticked off Mr Halliday for

putting the engagement announcement

in The Times rather than
the Dillmouth Messenger.

He read it out so proud.

And she said he'd gone all stuffy and stuck-up.

Was she here a great deal?

Most days and...

Well, I don't suppose it matters now.

quite often, nights too.

I were a bit disappointed in him for that.

There are standards, engaged or not.

No surprise to me when she ran off.

I heard them rowing that night.

She was supposed to be at her digs.
She turned up here.

Darling, calm down!
I'm not going to see him.

Well, I am! I can't just stand by and...

Please, sir! Madam, you'll wake Gwennie!

Darling!

Next thing I knew were all that kerfuffle
in the early hours

- when he found she'd done a bunk.
- Helen! Helen?

She's nowhere, sir!

Perhaps she's been kidnapped.

- Lily!
- Stranger things have happened.

Lily just wouldn't let it lie.

What did Lily really think
had happened to her?

That girl?

Reckoned Mr Halliday had done her in

and buried her in the garden.

Too much Boris Karloff
down the picture house.

Said she'd seen something"Very odd indeed, Mrs P'".

What?

Who cares? I didn't want to hear
her nonsense. Silly mare!

Do you...know where Lily is now?

Sorry.

Dreams can mislead as well as inform.

Your father, your mother and Helen

have been whizzing around
your consciousness like dodgem car

bumping into each other, creating sparks.

But a spark, however vivid,
is not enough to see clearly by.

So you don't think my father
murdered two women?

Well, anything's possible

but Clare died
when her car went off the bridge.

And you've seen Helen's postcard.

But I recognised Helen
from the photograph.

- It was her I saw strangled.
- Bump - sparks again.

I'm not saying you didn't see what you saw,

but perhaps Helen's been
what we call projected onto memory.

Before we jump to conclusions
about your father,

we need some solid facts, don't we?

Yes.

- Will you have one?
- Oh, no, thank you.

it's lovely here.

My favourite place.

Good for thinking.

You will come to the wedding, won't you?

You try and stop me.

The truth is, I'm a little scared.

Charles is so worldly and...

I just pretend to be, for him.

- Of course, he's...
- So much older.

Yes.

Well, perhaps that's why you fell for him.

It's a Peace rose, isn't it, Chief Inspector?

Can't have greenfly disturbing the Peace.

Serious offence. Hit them hard -

the only language they understand.

I remember it.
She skedaddled before the wedding.

So he jumped off Lover's Leap.

You never had cause
to doubt that version of events?

No. Open and shut.

Nothing...odd?

Unless you count Gunga Din.

The night Helen Marsden ran off,

there was an Indian gentleman seen

near the floral clock, at about ten past one.

You do mean...

Actual time. Not where
the nasturtiums are planted.

- What was he doing?
- Nothing.

Heads turn now if an Indian's seen

walking along Dillmouth Prom.

Back then, Mrs Fane thought she'd be
murdered in her bed.

Mrs Fane?

Any relation to Walter, the solicitor?

His mother.

She reported it the next day.

Funny old stick.

I think she keeps him
on a bit of a tight leash.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I retire on Friday and I've got
a speech to write.

Of course, she was a nymphomaniac.

If you're familiar with the term,
Miss Marple.

She almost nabbed Walter.

Did she really, Mrs Fane?

They were inseparable

until she got her hooks into Kelvin Halliday.

She invited Walter to thelr wedding.

He almost wasn't there because he overslept.

They'd all had drinkies after the show.

Was he very late home?

Not very. I was still up.

We finished a jigsaw,
then we both went to bed.

Thankfully, all that was just a phase.

Walter's happiest with his mother.

Some men are.

You...didn't go out again?

Only Chief inspector Primer
said that next day

you'd reported an Indian gentleman
late that night...

.. lurking.

He's mistaken the date.

That was the night before...or after.

They're all thieves.
Of course I reported him.

I had the most exquisite
emerald earrings stolen

when I lived in Delhi
with my late husband.

What was your relationship
with Helen Marsden?

I loved her.

Before she became engaged to my father?

And afterwards.

I don't mean erm...

I loved Helen as a dearest friend.

We were so very close.

I used to confide everything in her.

Much to the disgust of my mother-
but I didn't care.

Helen was so understanding of

how beguiled a shy country solicitor
was by her world.

She used to invite me to watch
the show from the wings.

It was thrilllng to feel a part of it.

*...raise the roof and cheer us as you hear *

* The Funnybones say hello *

It may not have been the London Palladium,

but it beat Thursday night Monopoly
with Mother and friends

into a cocked hat, I can tell you.

Did she ever talk of her family?

The Funnybones were her family.

And on that last night,
I felt like one of the family, too.

Old Lionel and Dickie.

Jackie,

Janet,

and Little Evle Ballantyne...

Ooh, Jackie.

.. as she was then.

But there was a feeilng of sadness.

We knew that Helen leaving
would change everything.

Fellow artistes, loyal fans,

we've packed our greasepaint, our trunks.

And we go our separate ways until next year.

Except, of course, our wonderful Helen,

who has chosen married bliss

ahead of a life trudging the boards.

Bravo!

Still, no hard feelings, Halliday.

Thank you.

The toast is the Funnybones.

The Funnybones.

I went home, feeling a little sad.

"Do not pass Go" and autumn beckoning.

George! Where's that tea?

Ruddy hell.

All our dreams. Where did they go?

Except for Evie's, of course.

Eve Ballantyne.
That's Ballantyne with a Y.

You must have heard her records
or on the wireless?

I'm not terribly up to date, I'm afraid.

Dickie'll be down in a mo'.

Of course, I remember that night.

End of the season.

And as it turned out... end of the Funnybones.

* And we'll see you next year *

* Come what may *

* The Funnybones say goodbye *

The toast is the Funnybones.

The Funnybones.

- The Funnybones.
- Cheers, everybody.

We were all in the party spirit.

Who wants first dance

with the smoothest smoocher
on the South Coast?

- Jackie Afflick...
- Janet?

.. was up to his usual tricks.

Not me.

I will, Jackie.

Helen? It's your last night of freedom.

Watch out for his paso doble, girls.

Poor old Lionel Luff.
Died the next Christmas.

Demon King in panto at Worthing.

Trap door opened too soon.

Southsea.

He broke his neck.

This is little Gwenda, Dickie.

Kelvin Halllday's girl.

- And Mr Horn.
- Beam. Hornbeam.

Pleased to meet you.

You said it was the end
of the Funnybones, Mrs Erskine.

Well, by the next summer,

things had changed for us,
hadn't they, dear?

And on that last night,
I had some news...for him.

Dickie.

- Dickie, I...
- What?

I... I'm pregnant, dear.

We couldn't run a company
and bring up a baby.

This is our George.

He's 18 now.

Your George?

We met him through Mr Fane
when I bought Hillside.

Charming lad.

Yes. Dickie thought that Walter
would never take him on,

but I said it was worth a try,
and he's doing jolly well.

Did you see my father later that night?

Yes. He was frantic.

Some of Helen's stuff had gone missing
from Hillside,

so he got me out of bed
that he could look in her wardrobe.

Her wedding outfit was still there.

He got you out of bed?

Yes, I'd slept in Helen's room that night.

Because Dickie was snoring.

First floor at the back.

She used to share with Evie.

This used to be the Funnybones' digs,

when it was Mrs Finderson's.

After the war, we...had to adjust.

Medals don't pay bills.

Dillmouth seemed like the obvious place,

so we bought the house ourselves.

You know what I thought?

That Helen and Jackie Afflick
had run off together.

It's not right, Jackie.

I overheard him talking her into it.

If you ever change your mind...

Then, he was the only one
who wasn't there next morning.

Apart from Helen, of course.

No-one mentioned it
while we waited outside the town hall,

but it's what we were all thinking.

What a sorry bunch
we looked that morning.

You with your black eye.

I tripped over a stage weight.

Hello, Miss Halliday.

.. saw a murder in this very house.

Is it left...

at the top of the lane
for Dr Kennedy's, or right?

Miss Marple. Still sleuthing?

I hate an unsolved case.

- There was no case to solve.
- Possibly not.

Left or right?

- Have you found out something?
- Well, yes and no.

It's all terribly confusing.

An Indian man on the promenade,

a young bride's missing trousseau,

a Funnybone, in the wrong bed, of course.

And was this really sent
from Helen Marsden?

It's left.

Thank you, Chief Inspector.

Happy retirement.

You wouldn't have something Helen
had written from before?

Something we knew could be hunky-dory?

When Miss Marple told me
you were probably taking the case

I thought of this.

But an autograph's hardly typical, is it?

No good for a comparison, no.

- Nothing else?
- I'm afraid not.

This could be hunky-dory.

"Darling James, you're the best,
best man ever. And all..."

"..my fondest love for being
so wonderful to me.

Your very own Helen."

I'd forgotten that. Well done.

- Very theatrical.
- That was her.

I was rather flattered.

We'll um...get these off to the experts, then.

Just for the record, Doctor,
where were you that night?

As I've told Miss Marple,
I was here, asleep.

- Alone, I take it?
- Very much so, thank you.

Do you know why
she was at Hillside that night?

- Was she?
- According to Mrs Pagett.

Kelvin never told me that.

I know Clare did sometimes -

I'm so sorry.

My sister's been on my mind terribly

since Gwenda came into my life.

Helen did sometimes
spend the night with Kelvin.

I tried not to judge.
They were desperately in love.

We can't rule out any possibility yet, can we?

If it were me, I'd find that maid Lily

and find out what she knew.

I placed an advertisement
for her yesterday.

- Have you?
- Yes.

Oh! Good.

Do you think Erskine was right
about Jackie Afflick?

Let's find out.

He's done well for himself.

That was my Dot. Dorothy.

Her first husband was Dougall's Biscuits.

I met her in Nice,
when she was a very merry widow.

And...Bob's your uncle.

God rest her soul.

I haven't had my vitamins today.

- Nice?
- Yeah.

I ran a little bar down there for a while.

Well, until I met Dot.

See, I set up in France
when I left the Funnybones.

That must have cost a bit.

Thrifty, me.

Why weren't you at registry office
with other Funnybones?

Were you not invited?

I'd had enough of Dillmouth, that's all.

Course I was invited.

I was there when they first met.

* Am I blue *

We were um...rehearsing a new number
when he wandered in...

* You'd be too *

.. with you in his arms.

* If each plan with your man *

* Done fell through *

Daddy, look!

Sorry.

It was my late wife's favourite song.

- She had taste.
- Look, do you mind?

I've got talent here
needs my undivided attention.

* There was a time *

* I was the only one *

* But now I'm *

* The sad and lonely one *

* Oh, lordy *

* Was I gay *

* Till today *

* Now he's gone and we're through *

* Am I blue? *

You were asking me about the last night.

Mr Erskine said he had an argument
with a stage weight

got a black eye.

Did he?

Did he really!

It was my fist.

You see, Erskine and me,

we never really hit it off.

And things came to a head on our last night.

Who wants first dance

with the smoothest smoocher
on the South Coast?

Janet?

He knew his missus were playing
hard to get with yours truly

- Not me.
- I will, Jackie.

Helen? It's your last night of freedom.

To be honest,
I thought if I played my cards right...

Enough's enough now, ladies.
I'm cutting in.

They're round here!

But she wouldn't play ball.

Where are you going?

What about me, Jackie? Won't I do?

It's such a lovely song. Please, Jackie.

Just get off me.

He said something, and she was gone.

See you in the morning.

Jackie, please.

I've got enough bad habits
and so have you! Now get off!

Evle had been after me all season.

Sad, really.

- Afflick, you are a bastard!
- And then...

Why did he attack you?

Search me. I didn't hang around to ask.

I left him on the floor,
went back to the digs.

Got stuck into a bottle of malt
with Lionel Luff.

Long gone now, of course, old Lionel.

Can you think of any reasons
for Helen's disappearance?

Maybe she was murdered.

Have you thought of that?

- As it happens, Mr Afflick...
- No! No, we haven't.

Well, go on.

Well, if you ask me,

Erskine bumped Helen off.

Why?

Because the Funnybones were his life.

We've packed our greasepaint,
our trunks...

He knew she was our biggest draw.

He reckoned her marrying
was gonna break us all up.

.. except, of course, our wonderful Helen,

who has chosen married bliss...

.. ahead of a life trudging the boards.

- Bravo!
- Still,

no hard feelings, Halliday.

I'll tell you somethlng else, as well.

He had a wife before Janet.

And she disappeared.

What do you know about her?

Only that she couldn't have kids.

Yeah, he told me once. He said er...

that set 'em against each other.

Anyway, bright and early the next morning,

I get on the milk train out of Dillmouth...

I've never looked back.

How interesting!

Helen would turn her back
on Jackie Afflick

and a glitterlng career

to settle down
in a rather conventional marriage.

And...to a man with a child.

Jolly romantic, though.

Romantic? She was a gold-digger.

The very same song that meant so much
to your mother, it...

.. it's a lovely story.

Yes.

Gwenda,

Mr Vanstone is so well connected,

do you think the Delhi police

would let him see the file
on your mother's accident?

My mother?

I think your mother's death
may be significant.

You think my father's a madman
who murdered my mother

and then came to England
and murdered Helen?

Where did you find this woman,
Mr Hornbeam?

Wherever it was, you can send her back.

I am so sorry.

She'll calm down.

If her mother's accident was really murder...

...you must think it was her father.

Unless you're suggesting Dr Kennedy
killed his own sister.

Dr Kennedy?

I'm sure he was never in India.

But perhaps...

one of the Funnybones was.

That was just plain bloody rude, Gwenda!

"Miss Halliday" to you.

I'm very fond of you, Gwenda

but my fondness is being solid tested.

- Then don't be fond!
- I can't help it!

Can't you, Hugh?

So, um... George was eleven
when you came back to Dillmouth?

Just the age when a boy needs
a father's influence.

Well, he's lucky that he's come back
from the fighting.

So many didn't.

Dickie wanted to try a new life in India.

He'd worked there before
we were married, but I said no.

Dillmouth has everything we need.

- Goodbye.
- Goodbye.

Goodbye.

"Hillside, Dillmouth.

"Information sought regarding Lily Kimble.

"Housemaid at the above address in 1934.

"Telephone Dillmouth 8123."

- Could be money in it.
- Nah!

Stranger things have happened.

It could be a shedload of trouble.
You and your daft notions.

And feed them chickens.

"Dear Dr Kennedy,

please can you give me advice,

because you are a professional gentleman... "

"..what to do about enclosed,
what was in the paper.

After all this time,
I don't know what's for the best.

If you can advise,
I will visit tomorrow morning and oblige.

Yours respectfully,
Lily Tutt - as was Lily Kimble,

housemaid at Hillside."

At last we could be getting somewhere.

Ah, yes, Mr Vanstone.

No, I can't speak louder, I'm afraid,
in case she hears.

What have you found out?

Clare Halliday's death in 1933

was never regarded
as anything but an accident,

though the traffic division released the file to

inspector Chopra of the criminal police
some months later.

Hornbeam,
is this secrecy strictly necessary?

Believe me, sir,
it could make all the difference to...

to your future happiness.

Could you find this inspector Chopra?

And I'll be wiring something
very important through tomorrow

Thank you!

The Palladium,
confirming Eve Ballantyne with a Y

will see us after the show.

Do this up for me, will you?

I'm giving it an outing before the big day.

My whole flat would fit in this suite.

How do you manage?

If I feel cramped,
there's Kensington Gardens.

Any spare time
from Vanstone International,

I do the Geological Museum.

Rocks?

Well, if it hadn't been for the war...

It's what I studied.

But with my mother left alone with
two much younger brothers

.. isostatically-depressed outwash deposits

wouldn't have put bread on the table.

Before we go back tomorrow, Hugh,

do you think we could see
Buckingham Palace and Big Ben?

Oh, and is Windsor Castle very far?

Well, I don't know, do I?

* I'll go my way *

* By myself *

* This is the end of romance *

* I'll go my way *

* By myself *

* Love is only a dance *

* I'll face the unknown *

* I'll build a world of my own *

* I'm by myself, alone *

Chocolate, dear.

You're wearing Helen's necklace.

- Helen's?
- Yes.

I asked to borrow it once, but she wouldn't.

- Used to be your mother's.
- I know.

Helen said she wore it to

remember dear Clare for Kelvin's sake.

But then, that's how they were.

This way, everyone!

Come on, everybody! Come on!

Kelvin! What are you doing?

Helen, darling...

.. will you marry me?

Yes, Kelvin.

With all my heart.

Giving everything up for a man.
Pass the sick bag, Alice!

I never understood it.

She could have hit the heights, you know.

But she wanted to be a dear little wifey,

with a sweet little kiddie.

Don't you miss that?

No, cutie-pie.

- The last night in Dillmouth...
- Oh, Dillmouth!

What a dump!

I wonder
how Dickie Erskine is these days.

One of my solo spots seems
to be working.

Obviously I need a bit more practice
on my time step, but er

I can sing. And I'm ambitious, Dickie.

I want my own spotlight.

I want a dress made just for me.
I want to be front-page news.

Sweetheart...let's be honest,

l've heard you. Never in a million years.

I'd like to think he's crept
into the cheap seats since then

and cried.

And Jackie Afflick...

were you in love with him?

That jerk?

Give me a break!

Why? What's he been saying?

Tears at the last-night party?

Oh, well, I was sentimental back then.

And it was the end of the Funnybones.

I knew I was leaving Dillmouth

to take the long, hard road to stardom.

Do you remember anything unusual
happening that night?

Oh, um... Well,
there was Walter Fane, I suppose.

I got back to the digs, and there he was.

Talk about desperate!

Where's Helen? She's not back.

- I must see her!
- I'm sorry, I can't help you.

Beauty sleep!

That's it. I've got fans to thrill.

Do you have a problem with your eyes?

The one thing I learned from Helen,
my dear,

was mystery.

Miss Ballantyne...

-..have you ever been to India?
- Yes.

- When?
- During the war.

Bringing much-needed glamour
to our dear, brave troops.

Why?

Nothing.

Well... Goodbye, darlings.

I'll tell you one thing.

I won't go down on bended knee
when I propose. Far too showy

Bet you do. I'll check up on you
when you're engaged.

The day we met, there was a fork in the road.

- And I wanted to go one way...
- And I said...

.. I always follow my instinct.

Yes?

Telephone message for Mlss Halliday, sir.

Miss Marple.

Lily's been in touch and
they're meeting her in the morning.

Early start, then.

Early start.

Yes. You're quite sure?

- Go on.
- She should be here.

The station's just a short walk.

- Do you need another aspirin?
- No.

How was Charles this morning?

Well, thank you. It was lovely to hear him.

I wonder if Lily called in

at the Erskines' first, by any chance.

Why?

It's just I bumped into Dickie in the street.

I said she was coming to Dillmouth.
He remembered her well.

A loyal fan.

That was Scotland Yard's handwriting expert,

about Helen's postcard.

- No doubt about it.
- A forgery?

Genuine. He's a hundred per cent certain.

That means your father
couldn't have murdered Helen

because Helen wasn't murdered.

My father couldn't have murdered Helen

because my father would never have
murdered anyone.

Helen was strangled. I saw it.

No-one will ever make me say I didn't.

You believe me, don't you? Promise.

I believe you saw a murder, Gwenda.
I promise I do.

And I can't believe my father
would kill himself.

Perhaps someone murdered him, too.

Strangled. I won't be retiring Friday.

This isn't the way from the station.

Not from Woodleigh Bolton station, no.

But it is from Matchings Holt.

I told her to go to Woodleigh Bolton.

And to be on the 10.30 from Coombeleigh.

But according to the ticket collector
at Matchings Holt,

she was on the 9.30.

Why?

If Helen wasn't murdered,

what did Lily know that's got her killed?

About Helen's postcard and the handwriting...

Are we quite sure it proves she...

You can't argue with the experts.

Now, I've been thinking.

Mr Richard Erskine had a first wife
who ran off, didn't he?

Never seen again.

So Jackie Afflick said.
But what possible connection...

There's a technical term we use,
Miss Marple.

"Following a hunch."

Erskine came back to Dillmouth
after the war.

Say he did so to keep an eye on Lily,

because she knew he'd murdered his first wife.

He found out she was coming
to see Dr Kennedy...

Anybody could have known that.

I doubt Dillmouth's much different
from my own St Mary Mead,

when it comes to gossip.

And we may think the Funnybones

aren't in touch with each other,

but...can we really be sure?

You think I should get them all here?

I wouldn't dream
of suggesting what you should do.

I'll consider it.

He's the only Funnybone
Lily had a photograph of.

Why not? We know he was her favourite.

Mr Tutt...

Did Lily often talk about her time
at Dillmouth in Hillside?

No.

Except she's saying how she
should have stayed in service,

rather than live this life out here with me.

If there's something particular
you want to know, ask.

I'm off to see her mother.

What did Lily make of
Miss Marsden's disappearance?

Never believed she ran off,

if that's what you mean.

Unless she went to the North Pole.

That's what she used to say.

- North Pole?
- Search me.

Thank you, Mr Tutt.
You've been very helpful indeed.

- Please accept this.
- I'm sure Mr Tutt doesn't...

I'm sure Mr Tutt does.

Gonna bury her decent.

Thank you, miss.

We're very fortunate, aren't we?

The North Pole?

Don't you see?

All of Helen's clothes,

apart from her wedding outfit,
were at Hillside.

It was high summer.

Lily must have noticed that Helen had taken

winter clothes, not summer ones.

Or rather the murderer had, in a panic.

You clever thing!

I am rather, aren't I?

I do think the police might wonder, you see.

Walter was seen at the Funnybones' digs,

when you say he was here with you...

and a jigsaw.

He was.

And was he here with you when
Lily Tutt was murdered, too?

Mrs Fane?

Walter's very dear to me.

The bond between mother and child, or...

or father and child,
always finds expression somehow.

Whether through love,
or through making allowances.

What would you know about motherhood?

Is that Kali?

Yes, Kali.

A dark and terrible mother.

Sergeant MacAuley, please.
He's expecting my call.

Mrs Erskine swears
her husband was at home

at the time of Lily's murder.

And I'm inclined to believe her.

But Mr Erskine claims
his first wife married again,

to a crofter in the Outer Hebrides,

which sounds like a right
cock-and-bull story to me.

As I'm sure the local police
will be confirming, as we speak

It's fascinating to see how a hunch works.

But I do hope
they won't be too long about it.

Everyone will be here quite soon.

Arthur Primer.

Yes, Sergeant.

Yes.

I see.

And cheerio the noo to you, too.

Mr Erskine was telling the truth.

First wife, alive and kicking,

with second husband and six kids.

Six children?

And 50 sheep.

Dillmouth?

Yes, yes. If I must..

Have a wizard time.

Give your old man a hug, son.

George, you're on my foot.

We're about to catch a killer.

That doesn't mean my house
can't be well presented.

Sorry, Mr Hornbeam,

but there were a message for you
this afternoon from India.

Mr Vanstone.

He said he got what you wired,

and he's found inspector Chopra,

and the Inspector were investigating
a jewel robbery.

- Jewellery? Did he say what sort?
- No.

Have you spoken to Charles
behind my back?

I'm sorry, it was necessary, believe me.

We'll be 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8,9

Eleven.

Eleven?

Cocktails, please, Mrs Pagett.

There's sherry. With ice.

Ah! Dr Kennedy.

They're in there.

Thank you.

- Miss Ballantyne.
- Mr Afflick.

- How's tricks?
- Tricky.

Er...Miss Ballantyne,

may I say that your success
is very well deserved.

Yes, Walter dear, you may.

Oh, Dickie, look at you.

Do you know what time it is here, madam?

I'm not exactly sure,
but I imagine it's dreadfully late.

And I'm so sorry to have got you out
of what is evidently

the wrong side of your bed, Mr Vanstone.

If this is anything less than Gwenda
dropping dead...

by the way, I take It she hasn't.

Did you say ''by the way''?

Yes. Why?

Er... The line crackled. Er...

Please arrange to show inspector Chopra

what we wired immediately.

And what's this about a jewel robbery?

Extraordinary.

18 years ago,

Helen Marsden was murdered in this house.

Her killer is in this room.

Mr Fane.

What?

Where were you that night?

Apart from at the Funnybones' digs
looking for Helen Marsden

Well, they asked, Walter.

And it was a bit odd.

You were a bit odd.

You were obsessed with Helen, weren't you?

I told you already. She was my friend.

Did you want her to be more than that?

- No.
- Please just tell the truth.

I can't.

It would mean turning
someone's world upside down.

Your choice, Fane.

It's not.

It's mine.

Janet?

Tell them, Walter.

At the goodbye do,

I realised I couldn't let Janet leave

without a very...private goodbye.

I went to her dressing room.

But I heard Dickie coming, so I had to hide.

Dickie.

Dickie, I...

What?

I... I'm pregnant, dear.

What?

How can I keep the company running
with a child on the way?

You stupid, bloody woman!

I was as shocked as he was.

But I just knew somehow,
when I overheard.

- Are you saying Fane...?
- Yes.

He is George's father.

- Walter!
- Oh, Dickie.

You've always known, haven't you, somehow,

that George isn't your son?

Yes.

Because it wasn't your first wife

who couldn't have children, was it?

She's managed six with her second husband.

It was you.

Go on, Mr Fane.

I went home.

I heard you come in...and go to your room.

Half an hour later...

I went to look for Helen.

She was the only one
who knew about Janet and me

and I needed to talk.

I followed him.

Then I saw that Indian man
and I was frightened,

so I went home.

I was waiting at the Funnybones'digs. '

Where's Helen? She's not back.

- I must see her!
- I'm sorry, I can't help you.

Which is when Miss Ballantyne saw me.

Walter, I'm sorry.

Oh, how could I ever have thought you...?

My own child!

You were always such a gentle boy.
You could never...

kill anyone.

Look on the bright side.

You never thought you'd have a grandchild.

No wonder you took in George.

I could have saved myself a black eye.

You thought it was me?

Mr Erskine...

.. what did you tell Helen at the party?

I told her I'd seen that Indian chap,

hanging about by the stage door.

She couldn't get out of the theatre

fast enough, through the front entrance.

She seemed terrified, for some reason.

How intriguing.

Sorry. Do go on.

Nothing much to tell,
except taking a swing at Afflick.

When you high-tailed it out
of Dillmouth in the morning,

I assumed you had a guilty conscience
about Janet.

- Maybe the guilt was about Helen.
- Oh, come off it.

You had just failed
to get your way with her at the party.

I know, but er...

Look, I went back to the digs.

Honest.

And then, for the rest of the night...

This places me in a very difficult position.

- Professionally speaking.
- You, Dr Kennedy?

Oh, well, if it's the only way.

Jackie couldn't have killed Helen.

No, now we've all got to tell the truth,

or you'll be in a tight spot.

We were just kids.

It was bad enough for me in the bar.

Who wants first dance
with the smoothest smoocher

on the South Coast?

I will, Jackie.

And then it got worse.

- I want to be front-page news.
- Sweetheart...

I've heard you. Never in a million years.

I've got enough bad habits,
and so have you! Now get off!

Is it any wonder I did a stupid,
stupid thing?

She was in my room.

God knows how many of those pills she'd taken.

But I got her into Lionel Luff's old jalopy

and I took her up to see the doc.

I gave Miss Ballantyne an emetic.

And when she was rid of the worst

I sat with her until close to dawn,

while she slept it off.

Why didn't you take her to the hospital?

The pills were Benzedrex.

illegal drugs.

I needed a lift.
Have you ever tried playing xylophone

and tap dancing at the same time?

Who supplied you?

Someone who liked his vitamins, Mr Afflick?

And made enough on the side
to open a little bar in France?

Yes. It was a nice little earner.

It's not right, Jackie.

Helen knew all about It.

Well, if you ever change your mind, eh?

So we three, though

not for the most respectable of reasons,
do have our alibis.

That's not quite true, is it, Doctor,
in your case?

Neither Mr Afflick nor Miss Ballantyne

would have been any the wiser

if you'd slipped out,
come up here and strangled Helen.

Well, strictly speaking, I suppose.

And strictly speaking,

you don't have an alibi
for Lily's strangling, either.

I was with you at the time

we thought she was arriving from the station.

How could I have known she'd changed
her plans?

She should be here.
The station's just a short walk.

I think you were most ingenious.

Perhaps the letter found on her body

wasn't the one you sent her,

and what you'd really told her
to do was catch the 9.30 train,

get off at Matchings Holt

and take the footpath.

You'd have had an hour in hand.

And a quiet place to...kill her.

And substitute a letter you'd never posted,

which specifled the 10.30 train

and Woodleigh Bolton station.

This beats the convoluted
and bizarre fantasies of

my most disturbed patients.

You seem to have a liking for
little tricks involving post.

I think Helen's card was another.

Or rather your card.

Since I believe you forged it
and sent it from London.

Don't you trust Scotland Yard?

Their expert was quite right.

The card and photograph
were both written in the same hand.

Could have been yours.

Disguised.

When you knew Mr Primer and I
were coming to see you,

you would have written that message
from Helen on the back.

"Darling James, you're the best,
best man ever.

- And all my..."
- ''..my fondest love

for being so wonderful to me.
Your very own Helen.''

You must have intercepted the card

before It was delivered here to
Kelvin Halliday.

You followed Mr Halllday on his regular
cliff walk,

and pushed him to his death on the rocks below.

Then you delivered the postcard,

so when it was found,
everyone assumed he'd killed himself

after reading from Helen
that she'd gone from life forever.

Oh, this is preposterous.

Why on earth would I kill Helen Marsden?

Where's this taking us?

To India, Dr Kennedy.

And to your sister Clare.

My mother again? But...

Excuse me.

Your mother, Gwenda,
was dismissed from post as governess...

for theft.

By the time she met your father,
she worked in a nightclub.

She danced with lonely men.
Nothing more, but...

.. sometimes an unguarded pocket
was picked.

Then she fell in love and married,
and you were born.

But her past caught up with her.

Inspector Chopra of the Delhi Police

was on the trail of some stolen jewellery.

Do you mean...

Yes.

What's this to do with the murder
of Helen Marsden?

That telephone call was from India.

You killed your sister.

- I've never been to India.
- She didn't die in India.

She died in Dillmouth.

Clare Halliday and Helen Marsden

were one and the same person.

Clare and Kelvin Halliday devised a plan

to start a new life,

so she could leave her criminal past

behind her once and for all.

- The car's a wreck, darling.
- Oh, darling, you're safe.

- I'll see you in England.
- Yes.

Clare's car accident was staged.

Like the rest of the charade.

She came to England,
and my father followed later with me?

Yes, Gwenda.

Exit stage right, Clare Halliday.

Enter stage left, Helen Marsden.

Because it was a performance.

With the Funnybones
as their all-important audience.

- Daddy, look!
- Sorry.

It was my late wife's favourite song.

Will you marry me?

Yes, Kelvin.

But it wasn't just the police
she was avoiding in Dillmouth.

Possibly she went to India in the first place

because she found you a little...

.. overprotective of her.

Whatever the reason,

she had no intention of continuing a career

that would bring her
the wrong kind of recogniton

once she was married.

if only Mr Halliday hadn't

put that engagement notice in The Times.

She was cross about that,
as Mrs Pagett heard.

Kelvin Halliday...didn't invite you

down to Dillmouth, did he?

You read that engagement notice

and decided to come and meet the man

who had married your late
and much-loved sister and...

.. discovered her very much alive.

- James.
- Helen.

Kelvin speaks so lovingly of your sister.

Dear Clare.

Did you enjoy playing the role?

Why would I kill my sister?

"Darling James...

.. all my fondest love.

Your very own... ''

The sort of thing Helen Marsden could write,

but knowing she didn't, I wonder if you,
forgive me, Doctor,

subconsciously chose the words

you longed for Clare to say to you.

Is that why you became a psychiatrist?

Physician, heal thyself?

Not heal.

It was too late for that.

Understand.

But I now know I could never have loved
any woman but Clare.

What happened?

When Mr Erskine told Clare -

and let us please remember her
by her real name -

about the Indian,

she assumed it was one of Mr Chopra's men

come to track her down
about the jewel robbery.

See you in the morning.

It was.

So she came to see Kelvin.

Mrs Pagett heard them arguing
about a man.

Calm down! I'm not going to see him!

Well, I am! If you think I'm going to
stand by and let...

Madam!

Kelvin went to look for him...

.. having phoned me.

All I wanted...

.. was one proper kiss...

.. from my little sister, before it was too late.

Just once.

Just tonight, for your darling James.

- No!
- You're my very own.

My very own.

Constable.

James Alfred Kennedy,

you have the right to remain silent,
but anything you say...

Where's my mother?

Uncle James,

where is she?

Mrs Bun, the baker's wife?

She deserves better.

Mr Vanstone sounded most unsuitable to me.

But they're engaged.

But not married.

Yet.

Instinct.

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