All language subtitles for Death.on.the.Nile.2022.720p.BluRay.800MB.x264-GalaxyRG

Provided by explosiveskull
https://twitter.com/kaboomskull

Mon capitaine!

Orders from Headquarters, Sir

The orders...

are to attack the bridge.

We can expect heavy casualties.

No-one will reach that bridge alive.

Find your nerve, men.

We risk our lives

but we can take back our home!

For centuries,
poets have dreamt of dying for love.

I suppose we shall be the lucky ones.

The orders are to wait three hours
for the wind to turn east

then fire every gas canister we have.

There is an alternative, Captain.

What is it, Poirot?

We attack right now.

Now?

Yes.

Within the next seven minutes.

Perhaps eight.

Every morning

the petrels take flight

just before the wind turns east.

You see?

This morning

they fly early.

The wind conditions are ideal now

to hide our advance.

Hidden by the gas

we will cross 200 metres of no man's land
without being seen.

Before the enemy even knows

that we attack!

If you're wrong, the wind will blow the
gas back on the rest of our army.

We gas ourselves as they Kill us,
that's what you want?

I am not wrong.

It's an ambush.

I can't see them.

Retreat!

You were right!

You are too sharp to be a farmer, Poirot.

Non! Capitaine!

I asked you not to come.

I'm a nurse, too.

I heard there was a wounded soldier

whose instincts on the battlefield
saved his entire company.

I did not save my captain.

And you agreed to marry me
before all of this.

Katherine, you should go.

Do you have any idea how love works?

When you love someone, you love them

through all their moods
and changes over time.

Their worst qualities peak at nuisance.

Their flaws become freckles.

And as it happens...

I love you.

What about this?

Come here.

Simple.

You'll grow a moustache.

Poirot! Where you been?

The Arundell mystery?
Are you "with case"?

No, I am with hunger.

Monsieur Blondin!

Monsieur Poirot, you solved the case
in Egypt.

It was a great success.
But I must return.

And tonight is gonna be...

Merci, monsieur.

One of every dessert on the menu
is on its way.

Anything else Mr. Poirot wants, just ask.

The whole house is wondering
why there's no music.

There's no music
because no money's been paid.

I pay everyone at the end of the night.

Well, in my experience,

men who run such upright,
quality establishments like yours,

lose their wallets when the bill comes.

I'm betting you already forgot my name.

Rosalie Otterbourne.

I'm not just Salome Otterbourne's manager,
I'm her niece.

She'll retire wealthy,
and I'll see to that.

And we get paid up front.

So if you want a little music,

first, I wanna see a stack of green

or whatever color money is
in your country.

You remember my name now.

Ladies and gentlemen!

Salome Otterbourne!

I wanna tell you the natural facts

That a man don't understand
The good book right

And that's all

That's all

You know what?
We got to have more love

More understanding every day of our lives

And that's all

Now when you see folks jump

From this or that

They don't know, they don't know
Where in the devil they're at

And that's all

Listen, people fighting one another

And think they're doing swell

And all they want is your money

And you can go to...
And that's all

That's all

Y'all got to have religion

I tell ya, that's all

Miss Ridge way!

Linnet!

Miss Ridge way!
Miss Ridge way, please!

Come on, give us a smile!

- Miss Ridge way!
- Give us a smile!

Stand back, please.
Make way for Miss Ridge way.

Up above my head

Up above my head

I hear music in the air

Miss Linnet Ridge way,

I can't tell you what an honor it is.

Merci. We have the... There are seven.

Indeed. Seven of the very finest, sir.

I do not want seven.
I want only the six.

I cannot have, uh, the uneven number.

Ah, now we have the even number.
This is good.

Which should I take away? I do not know.

No, not my little friend, please.
Thank you so much.

Thank you very, very much.

It is, you see, my little...

Linnet.

It's not fair looking like that
and getting to be you.

Oh, well, I asked Louise to pick out
something special to see my Jacks.

It's been ages.

Engaged?

- I know.
- But who?

He's big, and square, and boyish,
and beautifully simple.

And that's it.
He's called Simon to drive the point.

Simon Doyle.

We're desperate to be married
as soon as possible.

That's why I wanted to see you.

You're not...

What? No, no.

- But we have sex a lot.
- Shh...

- Constantly.
- Jackie!

Sorry, it's true.

Honestly, I'll die
if I can't be Mrs. Doyle.

It's love.

On, if it's money you need,

call it a wedding gift.

No. Not money. A job.

You bought that new estate.

You'll need someone
to fix it up for you and run it.

You could give the job to Simon.

He's unemployed.
But he's country through and through.

And he knows all about estates, I swear.

If he doesn't make good,
axe him on the spot.

But he will.
He's too spectacular to fail.

Oh, darling.

You got it so bad.
Be careful.

It's too late.

Jackie, darling.

Here he is.

Mm, that was naughty of me.

Hello.

I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty.

Simon, darling, meet the golden girl.
As advertised.

The divine Linnet Ridge way.

Pleased to meet my new land agent.

Do you really mean that?

Of course she does.

Take her to the dance floor, silly.

Go and thank her properly.

Now won't you hear me singing

Hear the words that I'm saying

Wash my soul with water from on high

While the world of love

Is around me

Evil thoughts do bind me

But, oh, if you leave me

I will die

You had me in thou bosom

Till the storms of life is over

Rock me

In a cradle of thou love

Only feed

Then you take me

To your blessed home above

Let's hear it one more time
for Salome Otterbourne.

Monsieur?

Monsieur, alors! Monsieur!

You are defiling
one of the Wonders of the World!

And also, by the way,
ruining a sublime Jaffa cake!

Monsieur!

You beautiful kite!

What? Poirot!

Bouc!

What are you doing here?

What do you think
about my kite?

I'll come down. Stay there.

Be careful.

Of all the pyramids
in all the world,

you had to walk up to mine.

What a small world.

Mon ami, Bouc!

Why would you fly a kite on the pyramids?

Because no one ever has!

Thousands of years,
right here, and I'm the first!

You are the first.

Poirot, it is good to see you.

Are you on an exotic holiday
or an exotic case?

Cases, I am in hiding from cases.

Well, if you want to hide,
come and hide with us.

In Assouan. We're on a whirlwind tour.

Still the constant traveler.

Mm. Sadly, no.

Uncle sacked me off the train
once he found out that I did nothing.

I tried jobs. An office.

I could manage the work,
I just couldn't fathom mornings.

But I've made ends meet as a kept man.

Come!

Come. I shall introduce you to Euphemia.

But who is Euphemia?

Well, you'll find out.

A new young lady
in the life of Bouc?

A new name to me.

Well, behind every kite-flying man,
there is a woman.

Here she is.

The only woman I have ever loved...
Mother.

Mother, you must meet Hercule Poirot.

- Why?
- He's only the greatest detective alive.

Oh, he exaggerates.

No, he is quite correct, actually.

You are quite the most ludicrous man
I have ever seen.

Not the first time I've heard this.

- And you're in my view.
- Stepping aside.

Be kind, Mother.
Poirot here is my friend, and he's famous.

And he's joining our dinner tonight.

- Is he?
- I cannot intrude.

Oh, no, not at all.
You bump my stock at the table.

It's not just Mother and I on holiday,
we're celebrating with friends.

It's a wedding party.

Ooh. Is that me?

Might be.

Be nice.

Excuse me.

"Should have
entire situation managed,

"then back to business as usual."

Do you have all of that?
Good.

Now, please see this telegram
sent off as soon as able.

And not another soul sees it.

No! I'll do it!

It's bad enough we have to stay
in this bourgeois nightmare of a hotel,

but I won't be party
to the oppression of the working class.

Unless it's me, of course.
Then she's perfectly fine with it.

I am calm, capable, and coping.

Dignity.

Marie Van Schuyler.
And I don't need a suite.

It's just me
and my nurse Bowers.

I'm Mrs. Doyle's godmother.

We do have reservations.

And will this area be cleared
for the party?

We don't want just anybody hanging around
and stealing the champagne.

Is it very expensive?

Merci.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are closing this reception
area for a wedding party.

Everything fine, madame?

It's perfect.

The cost of this party
could feed a village for a year.

It's an obscene extravagance.

I know. Wonderful, isn't it?

Is it true you donated your entire fortune
to the Socialist Party, dear?

Communist.

"Money is the alienated essence
of man's labor and life."

Money is the only friend
a woman can rely on.

Look at this!

Ladies and gentlemen. And Mother.

It is my honor to introduce our hosts.

Please welcome the newlyweds,

Mr. and Mrs. Simon Doyle!

There they are!

Magnifique, madame!

- Fantastic, Linny!
- Beautiful!

Ah, love.

It is not safe.

I bore witness to a small drama
some weeks ago.

Clearly, I caught only the first act.

Like an angel, Linny!

Lucky devil.

Fancy finding the one heiress
without adenoids and flat feet.

Eloped as fast as they could.

Convention be damned.

Married for love
and got money by chance,

that's the lightning strike.

Three cheers and a tiger from me!

How do I look?

Like a million dollars.

Mm, make that two million.

Oh, my wedding gift from Simon.

Yes, paid for
with her account, so, hardly.

Her gift to her via me.

I was sure Bouc was fibbing
when he said he knew the Hercule Poirot.

Enchantée, monsieur.

My congratulations
and my gratitude, madame.

Merci. Ladies. Godmother.

Cousin Andrew!

Simon.

Cousin Andrew, my trustee
for all Ridge way affairs,

abroad and domestic.

He's practically family.

I made him come
so he'd take a vacation for once.

I'm only here for the champagne,
sacred honor.

And for this...

Oh.

Oh, that's so sweet!

Isn't it adorable?

Friends, I know you're all thinking
there is a mystery at play here.

The case of "Why in the hell
would Linnet Ridge way marry him?"

And I honestly can't say why.

I'm not smart or romantic.

I don't have the words, or the money,
or the pedigree.

But I do love you.

And now...

Well, I don't even want to say it,
lest the thieves come and steal you away.

To the bride and groom.

Bride and groom.

- Three cheers!
- Three cheers!

Salome Otterbourne
sang the night we met.

So, I begged your old pal, Rosalie,

to beg her to travel with us.

I wouldn't have missed it.

I haven't tasted caviar
in 10 years.

What a decadent display of wealth.

Come on, Linny, let's dance.

Ah, the bereaved.

There's one at every wedding party.

The good Doctor Windlesham proposed
to Miss Ridge way

when she was still Miss Ridge way.

He and the papers
both had the deal as good as done.

Then came the engorged stallion,
and now it's Mrs. Doyle.

If I were in his shoes, I'd only come here
to put a bullet in the groom.

Our other guests, Linnet's godmother,
who despises Linnet's wealth,

and the godmother's nursemaid,
Bowers, who covets it,

as does Linnet's own maid,

poor old Louise.

Oh, and there's Cousin Andrew.
He's a slippery fish.

No one except Linnet trusts him.

We find Mother and I
are the only sane people here.

The only one who seems
to like Linnet at all

is her old schoolmate, Rosalie.

And she's Salome Otterbourne's niece

and arranged for her
to come to play for them.

Monsieur Poirot,
come and dance.

Oh. Good luck.

Rock me

In a cradle of thou love

- Looking good, Simon!
- Come, everyone! Let's go!

Come on.

Only feed me

Till I want no more

Then you take me

To your blessed home above

She's followed us again.

I'm sorry.

Alas, Act Three.

Turns out there's two bereaved
at every party.

How's Linnet?

No, no. Thank you very much.
Thank you. Yeah, very nice.

Try a piece.

Oh, very nice.

Oh, look at those boxes in there.

- He's here.
- Who is?

Poirot.

Well, then let's speak to him.

Excuse me. Excuse me.

The snake is your friend, eh?

My best friend.

Monsieur Poirot.

Sorry about the high drama last night.

Do think about giving us
another go tonight.

You are much too kind to strangers.

Careful! Careful!

Thank you.

- Madame.
- So sorry!

I go. I go.

You all right?

Mr. and Mrs. Doyle, I'm so sorry.

Actually, Poirot,
we wanted to ask for your help.

It's, uh, Jackie de Bellefort.

She's followed us
every step of our honeymoon.

She and I...
We were engaged, you see.

Has she made any specific threats?

No, she doesn't say a thing.
She only shows up, and sits, and stares.

Pardonnez-moi, non.

There is no case for me to accept.
She has committed no crime.

It's indecent, what she's doing.
And melodramatic.

And she's making an ass of herself
is what it is.

See, when I was with Jackie,
I liked her, I did.

Then I met Linnet.
Jackie just didn't exist for me anymore.

From "Hello," I just couldn't imagine
any other path but by her side.

And lucky me, she felt the same.

I could've punched the sun.

Hmm. Instead, you broke your engagement.

Does he have to spend the rest of his life
with someone he doesn't love

to spare her feelings?

It's love.

It's not a game played fair.
There are no rules.

Now, maybe she hasn't
committed a crime yet.

But I know Jackie, she will.

She always settled her scores.

Do think about it.

Mademoiselle.

Do I know you?

If you will permit me
a little moment to talk with you?

Of course.

Here it comes.

Linnet paid a detective a bucket of money
to knock me off her tail.

She kindly offered, I politely declined.

Boo-hoo.

Madame is used to getting what she wants.

Her father was halfway to a gangster.

You have known Madame Doyle for some time?

We met doing the school play.

Antony and Cleopatra.

I was Cleopatra,

until the teacher came
a week before opening

and decided to give my part to Linnet.

I was stuck with Charmian, the handmaid.

You have our newlyweds in the twist.

First, I did it just to be near him.

Then I got bold, and let them see me.

I saw her smile fade

and lines crack across her forehead.

Mademoiselle de Bellefort,
you must give this up.

What is done is done.
Bitterness will not undo it.

He is married.
He is in love with his wife.

Simon loves me.

Simon loves me.

I know it.

Even if he's forgotten, dazzled by her.

Love that fierce doesn't vanish.

I love him.

I love him madly,
badly, at every minute.

It's not something
I can switch off.

There's a reason the heart is the organ
given to love, you know.

If it stops to rest, we die.

And I won't die alone,

you can be sure of that.

It's a .22 caliber.

It's practically a toy.

Maybe, to fix a broken heart,

all it takes is a single bullet.

Damn her.

All right. What would you have us do?
Try the police?

Well, if I may humbly advise?

I am sure Mrs. Doyle has a fine home.

Go to it now.

Build your nest,
begin your lives together.

We could, Simon.

We could go home and shut the gates.

We could be happy.

What, just pack it in?

But what about our honeymoon?

Consider it the cost of love.

And a bargain at that, huh?

Bonne nuit.

Merci.

This way. Don't dawdle.

- What's the scam here, Simon?
- Hurry on.

I thought we were sightseeing today?

Yes, I know I invited you
for another 10 days

sightseeing in Assouan to Philae,

but circumstances invited inspiration.

So, like Moses, not far from here,

we have made a surprise turn at the water.

- After all, I couldn't refuse...
- What?

...the Queen of the Nile.

"I have immortal longings in me."

Bravo!

It is gorgeous!

Mother, why don't
we have a boat like that?

You got too much money, Linnet.
Not enough sense.

But great taste in boats!

See?

I told you it'd all be fine.

Jackie won't be able to follow us anymore.

Let's go.

All right, everybody aboard!

Permission to come aboard.

Oh, wow! It's beautiful.

You look so happy.
You deserve it.

We have the Karnak all to ourselves
until Abu Simbel.

Don't worry about your things,
darling Louise will go back

and pack up all your rooms for you
and meet us at Shellal.

Happy to, miss.

Thank you.

We have a piano tuned,

a chef stolen from Shepheard's of Cairo,

and enough champagne to fill the Nile.

Champagne!

It's not even half ten.

Then we're behind.

So, there is one more above, yes?

Hello, Egypt.

All luggage from the hotel
is going to the Karnak.

Monsieur Doyle.

I need Monsieur Doyle.
I need those three trunks there. Oui.

I shall strike this like Joe DiMaggio.

- Oh, completely useless.
- Five, Officer.

- Make that a naught.
- Five points.

Bowers, my love.

I'm winning by quite a margin.

Well done.

Well,
that's the borderline, surely.

- Huh?
- What's that, there?

I'd say that's a grebe, isn't it?
Very beautiful.

- You just moved my puck.
- Foul shot.

Bouc, that was a foul shot
and you know it. Take it again.

You're a cheat. A swindler.

Linnet, you've got cheats on board.

Bowers and Van Schuyler are cheats,
just like these two.

Katherine, mon amour.

Monsieur Poirot,

I hope you can forgive
my hijacking your holiday.

Couldn't let you miss the fun.

It is an honor.

And it is convenient to my own plans.

Although, travel by water
does not naturally agree with me.

Oh, I could tell you...

Well, I should not tell you, actually.

But I suspect you perhaps may have

included me for reasons
other than the fun.

I wish we'd gone home like you said.

- Ah.
- I don't feel safe here.

Not me, not Simon, even with Jackie gone.

But you are among friends.

When you have money,

no one is ever really your friend.

Now I'm remembering
old jealousies and fights.

It takes a pill to get to sleep.

I don't feel safe with any of them.

I hoped you might watch for us.

Hmm.

Thank you.

Mm... Now?

And now.

See? Completely normal.

I'm so hot.

Yes, you're in Egypt.

It's malaria.

You don't have malaria.

You know I have a temperature.
That thermometer is broken.

It's perfectly normal.

- No, no, it's broken.
- No, it's not broken.

- Oh, I'm so hot.
- It's how it should be.

I know, I know.

Tactless to talk business
to a bride on her honeymoon.

Bad lawyer. You promised.

There's only a few quick signatures.

Fair enough. My marriage has
made a difference, I'm sure.

Do give us more notice next time.

It... It's all quite straightforward.

The Ceylon land concession

and the obvious changes to the new will.

The lease of the London property.

It's all quite straightforward.

I'm sorry, cousin, you know me.

Never met a contract
I couldn't find some corrections.

Papa taught me too well.

Not me. That's not my way.

I've never read a contract in my life.

Any deal that can't be made
with a handshake

just isn't for me.

Go on, Linny. Sign it.

Sooner you do,
the sooner we can get to bed.

You were the first girl who ever told me

that a woman can run her affairs
as well as a man or better.

Don't tell me that score changed
with one little husband.

Go get ready for the party, Simon.

I promise I won't be too long.

I'm being rude.

It's no rush.

Just kick it to tomorrow.

Up above my head

Up above my head

- I hear music in the air
- I hear music in the air

- Now up above my head
- Up above my head

- You know I hear music in the air
- I hear music in the air

Up above my head

Up above my head

- I hear music in the air
- I hear music in the air

- And I really do believe
- Yes, I really do believe

There's a heaven somewhere

Heaven somewhere

Up above my head

- Up above my head
- Come down, Poirot.

I see trouble in the air

And I really do believe
That there's a heaven somewhere

Heaven somewhere

Bloody good fun!

Bravissimo!

Wonderful, as ever.

Thank you.

Madame, I am so moved.

Your bluesy music
has joy on top for the dancing,

yet there is tragedy in there, too.

Writing tragedy is easy.

I just imagine someone I wanna punish.

Then I imagine them in love.

You've, uh,

taken quite a keen interest
in Salome Otterbourne.

I thought Poirot was impervious
to love's fever.

I was sick with it once.

It left me with enough regret
for a lifetime.

There are many fine detectives.

Well, that is not true.
There are many average detectives.

But to be what I am,

it requires fixedness of mind.

The little grey cells pampered, indulged,

given all the oxygen in my blood,

and minutes on my clock.

No, I leave the tempest of love to you.

But what of the niece?

A beguiling lady, no?

Is she?

A cool, methodical brain
of the highest order.

She sings well, too.

- Hmm?
- I hadn't noticed.

She's, um, a schoolmate
of Linnet's, I hear?

You are trying to keep secrets from me?

- From me? From me?
- What?

Rosalie Otterbourne
is an overtly beautiful woman,

and Bouc has not spoken to her once?

It's nothing short of gobsmacked love!

Look, I've been bursting to tell you.

Linnet introduced us months ago

and since then, there hasn't been
another woman I've wanted to look at

except as a...
a nanny to our children.

She is the cleverest, most shocking,

most alive woman I've ever met.

I'm outclassed in a breath
and she loves me anyway.

I mean, it's the only
bad mark against her.

Mon ami, Bouc, amoureux,

shouting from the rooftops, huh?

Well, no,
not where Mother can hear.

Madame Bouc does not support
the match, huh?

She's never cared
for anyone I've ever brought home,

unless it was clear
that they were only staying the night.

Being American doesn't help either.

Mother doesn't approve of people
being born outside Mayfair.

She's furious at Linnet
for making us a pair.

And her opinion, does it matter?

Money matters,

and mine comes monthly from Euphemia Bouc.

I've tried to earn enough

so that I don't need
her permission to marry,

only her blessing,

but I'm just rotten at it.

All my life,

I never wanted to be anything to anyone
but an amusement.

But for Rosalie, I...

I want to be good.

Come along.
Ship's crew ready for departure.

Returning 5:00 a.m.

And remember, we have new guests
arriving at Abu Simbel.

- Good night.
- Good night.

We are nearly there.

Ladies and gentlemen,

we are approaching Abu Simbel.

We're all going.

No stragglers.
You, too, Louise, you're with us.

I have the pressing to do.

We're in ancient Egypt.

It was your idea for a honeymoon

when you were engaged.

- Coffee, Mrs. Doyle?
- Thank you, Claire.

What's that?

The sandstorm is miles away, madame.

No need to worry.

I can't find my tube of carmine red.

I can't be expected to capture
these horizons without red.

Brushes down, Mother.
It's the temple of Abu Simbel.

Ramesses the Great awaits.

Ramesses II,

married to Nefertari,
first and favorite of his eight wives.

On the walls
of the queen's burial mastaba,

he wrote a poem to her,
which is spectacular...

- Oh, sir, may I see?
- Oh, yes.

"My love is like no other.

"Just by passing, she has stolen my heart.

"She is the one for whom the sun shines."

He is a man in love.

He murdered half of Nubia.
Great useless blocks of masonry

put up to minister to the egoism
of a despotic bloated king.

Mm, I really like their hats.

Fascinating story.

It's bad enough
to be married for one lifetime.

To be side by side for eternity
is inhumane.

Why must you be
so cynical, Mother?

People build towers
to love in song and stone

as if cooing over a pair of dark eyes
will save them from pain.

If anything, it will double it.

It's over there? Thank you.

Go on.

Think you and that beautiful girl
will be the exception?

Not every love turns to misery.

No, the lucky ones die in childbirth.

It's my job to protect you.

You think I don't know what you're after?

You... You want my blessing
to marry that girl.

Well, you can't have it.

Rosalie!

Everything all right?

Yes.

No more hiding.

- We'll make it on our own.
- Yes.

Whoo!

New passenger coming aboard.

I've got too much
sand in my shoes.

Here we are!
How's that?

You approve of them?

First man she ever brought home,

a wealthy lawyer.

Straight, narrow,

on his way to being a Missouri Senator.

Then, there was a baron
who owned islands,

manners of a king.

Now, it's this penniless Bouc

who drinks too much,
and laughs too loud

and always at the wrong thing.

I like him best.

Do you have a husband, madame?

I've had a handful of husbands.

Each one, a handful.

Mm.

Are you married, Mr. Poirot?

I have not that felicity.

Which felicity do you have?

I have my cases.

- I have my books.
- Oh.

I, uh...

In fact, I have my eye
on a cottage where I hope, uh,

eventually to retire...

and garden.

I hope to perfect a new

strain of the vegetable marrows.

They are magnificent vegetables,

but they lack a little bit of flavor
which is...

I would prefer more flavorsome vegetables.

Madame.

What are you really doing way out here,
Mr. Poirot?

Madame.

You do realize
we've barely held hands past Cairo.

I haven't been myself.

Well, who shall you be, then?

Cleopatra, of course.

Come with me.

Come on.

The ruler of two kingdoms.

What would Cleopatra say?

"Oh, Charmian.

"Where think'st thou he is now?

"Stands he

"or sits he?

"Or does he walk?

"Or is he on his horse?

"Oh, happy horse,

"to bear the weight of Antony!"

"He is speaking now.

"Or murmuring..."

Oh, my God.

"Where is my serpent of old Nile?"

Look out! Bouc!

Everybody inside quickly!

Bouc, inside!

Get inside!

There was a balcony above the cliff,
a worker's platform,

but no sign of anyone.

Do you think someone did that on purpose?

Let's get you safe, dove.

Small world.

The captain just swore

that Jackie got here
when we left for the temple.

It couldn't have been her.

I know she tried to kill us.
I want her off the ship now.

She already had a ticket to board here.
Bought ahead.

There's nothing we can do.

I don't care! She always does this!

Just tell me what it costs
to get her away from me!

Name a price!

I'll buy the whole damn boat if I have to.

I'll buy the whole damn country!

- Madame.
- Thank you.

Thank you.

Louise.

Have you seen my scarf?
I swear I had it earlier.

No. No, Miss Marie.
I'll be sure to look.

Okay. You...

You don't take your meals with us?

Miss Linnet prefers me not to.

Oh.

Ah, I love that girl Linnet.

But when the revolution comes,
she'll be the first.

Blindfold, last cigarette,
up against the wall.

Bang!

Some detective. My ledger?

You've taken my book.

J'ai fait une erreur bête, pardonnez-moi.

I confuse you with, uh,

my Edwin Drood in the parlor.

- Oh.
- I can see by your penmanship,

you are Dickens' rival in precision.

Mm-hmm.

Monsieur Poirot.

I wanted you to know

you won't have to look out
for us any longer.

Jackie might not be able
to see reason,

but we can.

We're going home.

We'll get a car to Khartoum
first thing in the morning.

And then donkey to rail to ship
to Wode Hall,

and then familiar beds forever.

To hell with Jackie de Bellefort.

Oh, dear.

One last cork, though. Why not?

I do not normally take l'alcool...

...but for this...

Dove.

Monsieur.

- Yes.
- Yes.

- To going home.
- To going home.

Thank you.

You're not built for boats.

Or champagne.

Did you know that the wives
of dead pharaohs

were buried alive with them?

They must have been locked in screaming.

But I bet there was one who was willing

and couldn't bear to be parted.

You're sorry to see me.

Like it or not, I'm in his thoughts.

Simon is afraid of me.

Mademoiselle, you have a choice still.

You can ruin his life or begin a new one.

It may not be the life that you imagined,

but perhaps it will be the life
that God intended.

Love is far too important to trust to God.

From the moment I met Simon,
I knew one thing for absolute certain,

I will die if we are parted.

I once felt as you do.

I loved so much.

I thought that if I lost her,
I should die.

I lost her.

To another man?

A mortar shell.

Visiting me in hospital.

I was to be discharged in a month,

but I begged for her to come at Christmas,
to be together.

She came, but the train was...

After Katherine,

I became

whatever it is I am now.

I was going to be a farmer.

Forgive me, the champagne...

it loosens the, uh, memory
and the mouth.

Ship's crew ready for departure.

It's after 12:00.

The crew's left the boat.

Well, I want another cocktail.

- I'm done with today.
- No, no.

Time for bed, my love.

Yes.

I'll take a pill,
so don't worry about waking me.

You're not joining her, Simon?

Oh, we've already made love today.

- Twice.
- Three times.

Sleep well, la reine Linnet.

Jackie, I wish you well.

I do.

I'm not sorry for what we did,

but I'm so sorry
for what it did to you.

I wish we could stay friends.

You were the only one
who never cared about the money.

Good night, Jacks.

This is the last time
that you'll see either of us.

You can't disappear.

- Let's call it a night, Jackie.
- Yeah.

Oh, no, stay for a bit.
She's working up for a scene.

God, I feel so free

and so fat-headed
for not turning around sooner.

You can't get rid of me that easily,
Simon.

We were bound.

Heart and body, I gave you all of me.

A few months of good times? Hmm?

Were they even that good?

I swear, looking at you now
makes all the fond memories go sour.

It's like trying to remember a party
after you've been sick.

Simon, don't be cruel.

I've run dry on sympathy.

Did you really think this little stunt
of yours would bring me back to you?

You're a fool if you thought
I could ever love you again.

I don't think I ever did.

Simon, that's enough.

You don't mean that.

You don't.

Say you don't mean it!

Simon?

Simon.

- Sorry.
- No, no, no.

Rosalie, take her to Bowers.

- Now.
- Simon.

- Simon.
- No, no, no.

I'll get the doctor.

- Rosalie!
- Huh?

Bowers! Nurse Bowers!

Simon.

Bowers?

- No, no. Hey, hey! It's all right.
- I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!

I'm so sorry!

Dr. Windlesham!

What's going on?

It's Simon, in the parlor. It looks bad.

Rosalie, stay there.
I will find Nurse Bowers.

- Yes.
- Right.

Bowers?

- Bowers!
- Bouc?

- What's going on out there?
- What's the matter?

It's Jackie. Bring your bag.

What's happened? Huh?

- This way.
- I don't know.

Jackie.

Come straight in here.

- All right?
- Yes, go!

She shot me!

No, no, I can't.
I can't move my leg.

Bouc, help me.

- Help me move him.
- Right.

With me.

- Get him up!
- All right.

Al right.

I'll give you something to ease the pain.

Are you sure you don't want
to make it hurt more, Doctor?

Settle the score.

The bone's shattered.
We need a hospital.

That was so stupid of me
to rile up Jacks like that.

You're a bright boy now.
You just might deserve that bullet.

Don't leave her alone.

She didn't...
She didn't...

She could hurt herself.

She won't.

I've given her something to calm her down.

I'll stay with her.

Good. Come on.

Let's get him to bed.

Careful.

All right, almost there.

Here we go.

Steady. Steady, steady, steady.

- That's good.
- There we are.

This should help you sleep.

Oh, God.

Oh, God...

Time of death?

Six hours ago.
Eight at most.

Sometime between midnight and 2:00 a.m.

No evidence of struggle.
She died in her sleep.

At least that.

Gun held to the temple.
There's scorch marks there.

God...

One bullet.

Small caliber.

Probably a .22.

- Practically a toy.
- Practically a toy.

Ah, good.
I was hoping you were the day shift.

Is someone ill?

Someone is dead.

- Linnet Doyle.
- Linnet?

Stop. What do you mean?
How?

I'm afraid Jacqueline de Bellefort
has made good on her threat.

No, that's impossible.
I was with her all night.

She slept right here.

Out cold.

Could she have left
even for a moment?

Did you leave her side or sleep at all?

No, not a minute. No. Not a wink.

And even if I had,
I was scared she might hurt herself,

so I gave her enough morphia
to fell an elephant.

Was there a single moment

when Mademoiselle de Bellefort
left your sight?

Never, no.

So Jackie couldn't
have murdered Linnet.

Just as she could not have
pushed a boulder onto Simon Doyle.

What did you do
after bringing her to Miss Bowers?

We came back here
to pick up the gun and lock it away.

I kicked it under the couch,

but when we came back,
we couldn't find it.

- I wanted to wake you.
- I said not to.

You did not want my assistance.

No, stop that.
She was Linnet's friend.

It's all right.
He's a bloodhound, let him sniff.

Simon was with the doctor
and Jackie was with the nurse.

I just figured it was
an awful lovers' quarrel

and not a case for the detective.

Ah, but the mysterious case
of the vanishing pistol.

Someone locates it

in the moments between you bringing
Mr. Doyle to the doctor and your return,

and then presumably uses it
to commit the murder of Linnet Doyle

and part two lovers forever.

Bouc, tell the captain
to dredge the river around the ship.

Simon Doyle must be told.

Linnet.

No!

No!

Oh, God.
It was Jackie!

God damn her! I could kill her!

Jacqueline de Bellefort
was not the killer.

She shot me!

She has a concrete alibi
for the entire night

from the moment she fired her gun at you.

No.

Oh, God.

Linnet.

You have to help me.

Please. You have to find out
who killed my wife.

Did you suspect any of them?

Everyone loved Linnet.

Yet, your wife confessed lately
that she did not feel safe with them.

There... There were petty things.

I, uh, wasn't crazy about her old beau
being on the ship,

mooning over her the entire time.

She mentioned something about Salome.

Some incident that had happened years ago.

She didn't say what exactly.

What of your maid, Louise Bourget?

There had been a disagreement, no?

It was just that Louise had left
some things at the hotel.

Silly things. Nail varnish.

No. She had been with Linnet for years.

She even had charge of Linnet's necklace.

- Check on the necklace.
- It's by the bed.

Thank you, Bouc.

It's not here.

So, did you see the necklace
when you came in this morning?

Alors, I saw Miss Linnet there.

Dead.

I dropped the tray and ran out.

What did she mean earlier
on the way to Abu Simbel

when she said the travel to Egypt
was your idea?

For your own honeymoon.

Um...

Perhaps Miss Bourget would prefer privacy
for this intimate detail.

So, if you could please take Mr. Doyle...

But, no, if you please,
I prefer Mr. Doyle hear me,

so he does not accuse me of a secret.

- Accuse you of a secret?
- Oui.

She ended my engagement.

Miss Linnet gave a party last year.

A man spoke to me,

and found me after.

When he proposed, I gave notice.

Miss Linnet was suspect
of his intentions with me.

Just a maid.

She had him investigated.

He had debits.

She offered to pay them all off
if he would drop me,

to make a test of his affection.

He dropped me.

For my benefit, she said.

That same money, handed to me as a dowry,
could have given me a life.

What did you do last night
after you left Miss Linnet?

I went to my cabin on the deck below.

Did you go anywhere else?

See or hear anything else?

Forgive me, sir.

If I had come outside my cabin to smoke,

I might have seen her killer
enter or leave her cabin.

But you did not or you did?
What is this?

Uh, no, I... I did.
I did have a cigarette inside.

You all are staring at me.
It's making me...

Please. You know we kept confidences.

I was childish at times, but that's all.

Tell them. I would never hurt Miss Linnet.

Yes, of course. Easy, easy goes it.

Uh, no one here
is accusing you of anything.

I know you've always
taken good care of Linnet,

and I will be certain to take care of you.

That can be enough, can't it?
Surely, we can let the poor girl go.

You don't think someone would kill Linnet
to steal her necklace?

I've seen people poisoned for less.

Dredge the river.

Please be careful with those.

Oh, come on.

These are what few
private possessions I have.

I trust you'll be sensitive.

All the money in the world

and she's in the freezer with the hams.

This is as much dignity
as we can afford the dead

in these circumstances.

Uh, Doctor, before you go.

You joined this wedding party
despite your obvious affection.

You had no reservation
to see her with another?

Some people you can't say no to.
She asked.

If I may ask a question, please,
about your passport.

You go by Dr. Windlesham,
but this is not your natural title.

- No.
- Lord Windlesham.

Born to, not earned.

What I do as Lord Windlesham
belongs to buck-toothed tradition.

What I do as doctor is mine.

And Dr. Windlesham travels widely, hmm?

India, Africa.

Much of the world lacks access to modern
medicine we take for granted, Poirot.

Most nobility enjoy their nobility more.

Linnet used to tease me for that.

Said I shouldn't expect her to honeymoon
in a mud hut.

Your thoughts to her were always tender.
What of the husband?

I don't know him well.

What I do know, I can't recommend.

This is appropriate.

Mr. Doyle would have us
focus our suspicions on you.

Me?

I was with him all last night.

Indeed. You gave him
a strong opiate injection.

He was asleep.

You could have left him at any time
and not been observed.

- Did he ask for the drug?
- He was in pain.

There are less powerful pain medications
in your bag which would suffice.

You created for yourself an opportunity.

- I didn't create an opportunity.
- She was unkind, no?

She flaunted her new love,
yet still called you like the puppy dog.

Seeing them pained you,

and like the strong opiate injection,
you could end your pain with a bullet.

Lords demand to get what they want,

and you are still a lord.

What do you want me to say?

What do you want me to say?

That I know I'm ridiculous?

I'm not a fool.

I knew she was settling for me.

I didn't mind.

When she married Simon,

I actually thought
about ending my own life.

They all thought our engagement
was for the families,

the papers, for the damn aristocratic
theatrics of it all.

The shame of it is...

I loved her.

Little Linny and cousin Andrew.

I knew her
since we were children.

Were you aware of any grudges
against the family?

More than many.

Her father got rich
making rich people poor.

Linny continued the practice.

Did you hear anything
of the commotion last night?

I was all snores by 11:00.

And the contracts you wished her to sign,
they are very important?

Yes. They are. Were.

With Linny gone, the, uh,
estate will have to be redrawn.

May I see them?

Forgive me. These are confidential.

I must insist.

- Respect for the deceased.
- No matter, I know what they contain.

I doubt that very much.

I believe they extend your stewardship
of Madam Doyle's estate,

despite her marriage, no?

Who told you?

I am Hercule Poirot.

I do not need to be told.
I have eyes and they see.

A brain and it thinks.
It now thinks somewhat poorly of you.

- You think I killed her?
- Did you kill her?

I don't benefit a dime
from her death, Mr. Poirot.

You can look at the will I revised.

A godmother stands to inherit.

Her husband legally gets the rest.

You won't see my name anywhere.

Perhaps the intention was not to inherit,
but to conceal.

You executed control
over her vast fortune.

Not a concern, so long as
there is no impropriety,

no speculation by loyal cousin Andrew,

in a time of market decline.

This is not a kind of thing
you can prove on a boat.

You endeavored to obtain a signature

by trickery, from Little Linny,
and you failed.

You knew it was only a matter of time

before her keen eyes
uncovered your thievery,

unless her eyes were closed forever.

You see, in my position, Mr. Poirot,

I often have to transport items
such as canvases worth millions.

And they need security.

So, if I wanted to Kill her,

I would have used this.

A .45.

Yes.

You may go.

A .45.

Why would he risk going back
for Jackie's gun if he had that?

He would not.

Miss Bowers, if I might trouble you.

He wants to speak with me?
I'm laying down a corner.

There's nothing to fear.
Only you might know something of value.

That would be the shocking twist.

If you wouldn't mind her coming alone.

I damn well would.

I want these
served at my funeral.

Mm-hmm.

When you kept vigil with
Mademoiselle de Bellefort,

did she make threats against Linnet Doyle?

No, her threats were against herself.

She wanted to pitch herself
into the drink and not come up.

That's why I gave her all the morphia.

How fortunate that we had you with us.

You have been a nurse companion
for how long?

Um... Well, coming on 10 years.

All with Mrs. Van Schuyler,
so it feels like 20.

The job came to me late in life.

Ah, after you lost your great wealth.

Wealth?

Acquired tastes require acquisition,

and here, you moon over truffle
and king crabs.

So, too, your gown, Chanel,

your luggage, Vuitton,
your shoes, Perugia.

All the peak of chic 10 years past,
worn and patched over.

How many years since
you had caviar, did you say?

Many lost fortunes in the crash.

Many of them due to Papa Ridge way
and his unscrupulous business practices.

Perhaps that explains your reaction

to the lease of Linnet's
London property. Hmm?

It was once called the Bowers building.

Ah...

We employed over a thousand people,
good wages.

We spread our wealth, when we had it.

So many like family.

Some never found work again.

So, yes, I miss caviar.

But I miss them more.

And you, feeling as you do,
with your charge

Mademoiselle de Bellefort
drugged into slumber,

you are free to move about the ship,
to find the gun,

- to shoot Linnet Doyle...
- No!

He specifically asked
to see you separately.

- ...while she sleeps.
- Mrs. Van Schuyler.

- Stop interfering!
- Ah! A visitor.

She cannot be without her Miss Bowers
for even a moment.

Please. Please, join us to tea, huh?

He's just accused me of shooting Linnet.

No, no, no.

I merely, uh, suggest a possibility.

I don't approve
of this interrogation.

I mean, who are you to question us?

I am the working man.

The skilled laborer,
the hero of your own economic fairy tales.

Well, I don't care for it. Or for you.

You are meant to be finding the killer

of my goddaughter.

I never had children of my own.

I had Linnet.

You are aware, of course,

that you are a key beneficiary
in Linnet Doyle's will.

You accuse me now of murder?

Oh, no, he accuses everyone of murder.

It is a problem, I admit.

That I would Kill
my own goddaughter for money?

I already gave away a fortune.

I don't give a fig for money.

I see no reason to continue
this conversation. Come on, Bowers.

The stewards on this ship keep
an excellent room. Have you noticed?

A truly first-rate housekeeping staff.

He's off his rails.

Beds made every day,

sheets folded in marvelously precise
45-degree hospital corners, I must say.

Unlike, for example, the day we departed,

when the beds were made
in the flowing edged bedspread style.

But, you know, when I saw
Mademoiselle de Bellefort

asleep in Miss Bowers' room
on our third day aboard,

the bed was as it had been on our first.

As yet unslept in.

Bouc,

where did you find Miss Bowers
when you sought her aid?

In Mrs. Van Schuyler's room.

My mind asks...

Here is a woman for whom the fire against
class and materialism burns so hot

and yet she keeps a servant?

No.

Her servant is no servant...

nor nurse, only companion.

Let us name the reason.

Love.

Don't worry.

And I know this.

It's all right.

People kill for love.

They found something!

What?

They found something!

Monsieur Poirot.

Well done, young man.
Go and get yourself cleaned up.

Yes, sir.

It's your scarf.

But it went missing.
I've been looking for it since the temple.

It's true.
We couldn't find it anywhere.

It has had
an adventure in your absence.

Your scarf, complete with bullet holes...

Used to dampen the noise of a shot.

Also a bloodied handkerchief

and the .22 derringer
belonging to Jacqueline de Bellefort.

Two bullets fired.

We return immediately to Assouan.

Ooh, I like this.

The full force of his forceful attention.

The great mind, all mine.

Flirtation, however delightful,
will have no effect.

A woman shows you a direct bit of interest

and you assume
it can only be to hide guilt.

Whoever she was
must've done a number on you.

That mask covers your whole face,
doesn't it?

You knew Linnet Doyle before you came
to entertain us, yes?

- Paths crossed.
- You did not like her?

I stay polite.

Monsieur Doyle mentioned an incident
with the victim long ago.

A reason for possible animosity.

Poolside, Kennebunkport.

Summer of '24, before I was someone.

I played a show at the hotel

and thought to take Rosie
for a swim before packing.

A young girl complained to her papa

about having to share the pool
with a colored.

We were told to leave,
and when I did not abide,

I was made to.

I wasn't sure she'd even remember it.
I do.

It was '25.

So does she.

Mademoiselle.

She shamed you in front of your ward.

Monsieur Poirot,

if I put a bullet in everyone
who took a potshot at me

for not keeping to my place,

the world would be littered
with dead white ladies.

Linnet was just a kid back then.

Taught by a bad daddy.

But she became my friend
in boarding school.

Gave the other girls license
to do the same.

Truth to tell...

Linnet was as easy to hate as love.

I might have done both.

That is a very honest reply.

I thank you both for your time, mesdames.

There was one final question.
It is a curiosity of mine.

Your hat.
In the turban style.

As many times as I have seen you,
you have always worn one like I,

but it is out of the fashion, no?

Not when I wear it.

If you would indulge me,
please, to remove it.

- Mm-mm.
- Oh! It's all right, Rosie.

He's driving at an answer
he already knows.

.22 caliber, like the one
that killed Linnet Doyle.

I've used it, if you wanna ask.

Twice in defense, once in anger.

Last night was not that once.

You tell me if I'm lying.

Mr. Poirot.

Monsieur.

You interrupt at a poor time, madame.

You're meant to be the detective,

yet I found this.

It was there,
right in my vanity drawer,

face up like a yolk.

You know I didn't take it.

No. Which is why
our killer has remanded it

to your custody to return.

- Thank you.
- Unless...

- Poirot.
- Unless what?

Unless you took the necklace
to steer suspicion away from you.

Evidence is easily disposed of
over the ship's railing.

Whoever did this made a show of discovery.

Why would my mother murder Linnet?

Bouc, you said your mother was
furious with Linnet for making you a pair.

Madame, it was Linnet Doyle
who introduced your son

- to a woman you distrust, no?
- Rest assured,

if I had a bullet in my pocket
to correct my son's poor taste,

I would not spend it on Mrs. Doyle.

Mother, please, that is not helping.

Perhaps. But I have seen
your excellent landscapes.

You are a patient woman who achieves
every effect she intends in time.

Who so diligently planned
to have me aboard this ship,

yet with my suspicions
diverted in another direction.

That is a private affair.

That is a concluded affair, madame.

- Enough.
- Enough indeed.

I am now prepared
to present the conclusions

of my other, more secret case
and put it to rest.

Secret case?
What?

What does he mean?

Mother?

- Monsieur.
- Mademoiselle.

Mesdames, thank you for joining us.

Bouc.

I will make my own confession.

When we met in Giza, I told you
I was on vacation from my detective work

when in fact,
I was and have been on a case.

What case?

You.

At the request of your mother,
Madame Bouc,

who cabled me in distress
some weeks ago.

My mother, in distress?

I was bidden to follow the Otterbournes

to determine the character and fitness
of the show business woman

who had stolen your heart.

You did this to me?

I'm your mother. I've done far worse.

To observe them,

I had to consume many doses
of the bluesy music,

which, I confess,
I did not expect to enjoy,

but, in fact, I did very much

as performed by Madame Otterbourne.

It was unusual for me,
but it was very nice.

That's why you were in Giza.

How we met "accidentally."

I am sorry.

I had to make you see what she is.

Tell him, Detective.

I will tell you, Bouc.

Having observed Rosalie Otterbourne,

having inspected
her books of accounting...

Yes, I know, please forgive me, madame.

What?

...I can tell you,
she gambles frequently,

though frequently wins.

She drinks little, she tips well,
she pays her employees,

and her taxes on time to the dime.

She is diligent, she is forthright.

In business, perhaps even virtuosic.

Though at piano, sadly, amateur.

As for her adopted mother,
she drinks to excess twice a week or more.

She smokes cigarettes
of various compositions.

And I believe that at least two
of her marriages were not...

I think, strictly legally ended.

But she is a magnificent personality.

Mm.

I do not yet know
who murdered Linnet Doyle.

But I do know this...

Rosalie Otterbourne is irrevocably in love
with your son and is his better in virtue.

She is more than fit.
She is a find.

It wasn't enough that we're happy.

I did not trust her.
Despite the detective, I still don't.

I love her.
That has to count for something.

Why should it?

Corinthians had it wrong on every point.

Love isn't patient or kind.

It envies and boasts and doesn't care
who gets mowed down.

It angers, it is irritable,
it keeps record

of every transgression against it,

and good God, it fails.

Sure as a face ages, love fails.

He really wants your permission,
but he doesn't need it.

Any more than I need
to meet your standard.

Or yours.

I've had a chance to observe you.

Wanna know what I make of your character?

He is obsessive,
IS vain, is smug,

is lonely for a reason.

A detestable, tiresome, bombastic,

egocentric little freak.

How dare you?

Get out of my way.

- Mademoiselle, if I may.
- Ooh.

Miss Otterbourne,
I owe you an explanation.

Please. Allow me to apologize.

Have you ever met a man

who says his own name
as many times

as Hercule Poirot...

Confirmed.

It is Louise Bourget.

There's no sign of drowning.

They threw the body in after.

She must have got caught up in the paddle.

She was murdered on board.

Within the last hour.

Money.

Covered in blood.

Louise Bourget hinted that

she might have seen
the killer make an escape.

If indeed she had, she might have
offered her silence for a sum of money.

A blackmail.

Only the killer preferred
her silence absolute.

Her throat, cut clean. The blade...

short.

Very sharp. Like a...

Like a scalpel.

You!

You killed them!

It was... It was his scalpel!

He killed Louise!

And she saw him leaving Linny's cabin.

You've been lying ever since.

You're the one
Linnet should never have trusted.

I always told her your firm
was bilking her for millions.

You murderer!

I will kill you!

Hey, stop it!

Get off of me!

Hey! Hey! Hey!

Have some respect!

How many have to die
before you do something?

A throat cut while
you run me over the coals.

He's trying.

Well, he'd better try harder,

or we'll all wind up
in an Egyptian jail cell.

If you won't name the killer, I will.

No.

He loved Linnet too much.

There's your motive right there.

Look, all of you just keep quiet
and let Poirot work.

In any case,
we'll reach the port by morning.

For now, it's safest if we
just keep to our own cabins

with the doors locked.

She was engaged for a time.

I'll have to write

and let him know that she's...
gone.

They broke it off, but he'd want to know.

That's good of you.

It's horrible.
All of it, horrible.

Who could do such a thing?

You must have some theory,
Monsieur Poirot.

Don't you?

I have one final interview to conduct.

Full speed!

As I have allowed affection

to color the clarity of my thoughts
in your investigation,

I must ask you to remain
as witness to this interview.

How long did you know Linnet Doyle?

I'm a suspect now?

How long did you know Linnet Doyle?

I know your tricks.

I've seen this play before
from that side of the table.

A long time.

We weren't close, just familiar.

My parents considered her parents
their equals,

SO we grew up at the same parties
and wound up kissing each other's friends.

You can't catch me at anything
because I haven't done anything.

So, ask whatever you like.

Where is your coat?

Why did you not wake Linnet
when Simon was shot?

Poirot.

Don't.

Her husband was shot.

You have such sympathy
for the former fiancé

of Louise Bourget.

You wish to inform him of her fate.

Yet, you do not spare
the same sympathy for Linnet.

I thought she would be asleep.

She said that she had taken
a sleeping pill.

Rubbish!

God, I was so happy to see you, Bouc.

But you lie to me.

You lie in my face!

And now, you make yourself my prey.

What happened?
Did he kill Linnet?

Was it you
and Rosalie together?

No, she is honest.
Too proud to live well from theft.

- You alone did this.
- No, I didn't.

You returned to the parlor alone,
to find the gun and you did.

You then went to the Doyles' cabin
to inform Linnet about Simon.

She was sleeping. You saw the necklace.
You were assaulted by temptation.

But she woke, catching you,
so you shot her.

No, I didn't. That's not...

Only Louise Bourget saw you leaving
and demanded money.

Instead, you brought her a blade.

- No, I didn't Kill...
- Two murders!

All to secure a stolen fortune
so you would not need permission to marry,

only her blessing.

I didn't kill anyone.

I never found a gun.
That's not what happened.

No, you did not kill anyone.

Linnet Doyle's murder was premeditated.

It required exact timing, a stolen scarf.

You did not kill her, but
you did go to the Doyles' cabin

and found Linnet already dead.

You knew she had been killed
before all of us.

But instead of calling for help...

you took the necklace.

After I told you of the cabin search,
you attempted to return it.

But you came upon Louise Bourget
arguing with someone, demanding money.

You saw her throat cut.

You saw her murdered.

You know who killed Louise?

But you could not say,
not without admitting you stole,

so you hid it in your mother's room.
Believing that she would catch no blame.

While you remained silent.

Only you had Louise Bourget's blood
on your coat.

If...

If 1 admit this, if I say it...

You will face punishment
for theft.

You will face prison.

I'll... I'll lose Rosalie.

She loves you.

I can't...

You cannot let a killer go free
to protect yourself.

I wanted to tell you.

All I thought was how...

All I thought was how happy we'd be.

We could run off and get married.

No obligations. We'd be free.

Stupid!

It was so stupid, I know.

Who did you see her with?

You were a terrible friend, Poirot.

Why did you have to teach me to be good?

Who?

You could never understand...

what people will do for love.

Come on!

No.

Mon ami, Bouc. Huh?

Bouc?

I heard gunshots.

- I heard a shot.
- What's going on?

Did you catch him?

Poirot, did you catch whoever it was?

What is it?

Was someone hurt?

I have never seen anyone so happy as he...

when he was with you.

He told me how much he hoped
you'd be happy one day, too.

That you'd get tired of being
just a pure cold detective.

Be human instead.

I don't want you happy.

I want you to find who did this.

It was your gun that shot him.

It was his gun!

- I was in here!
- His gun!

I was here.

Well, you were there.
You saw me. Tell her.

It's true. He was in here.

No.

My pistol was in my suitcase
in my cabin and...

Why would you leave your gun
with a killer on board?

Because...

we'd be at port by sunrise.

If the local police saw a dark man
holding a gun,

they'd shoot me before I ever saw a noose.

You have failed...

your every duty.

His friend.

I did fail.

Linnet Doyle.

Louise Bourget.

Bouc.

I will not fail him now.

The murderer is here.

And will stay here.

Miss Otterbourne is right. I love to talk.

An audience.

I am vain, you see.

I love people to hear me
bring the solution to a crime and say,

"See, how clever is Hercule Poirot."

When all I want now,
would give anything for...

is one conversation...

with Bouc.

I would stomp about and say,
"Around a person like Linnet Doyle

"there are so many conflicting hates
and jealousies.

"It is like the cloud of flies,
buzzing, buzzing."

And he would laugh at me.

“Then play your clever games,"
he would say.

"Ask your questions
till the right one comes."

"Who would want to kill her?

"Who could have?"

And then, I would ask and I would see.

Yes, Bouc showed me too late.

A person in love will do anything.

Love makes us do reckless things.
Rash things.

A boulder falls, rash.

Louise murdered, wild.
Bouc, shot.

I had believed the identity
of Madame Doyle's killer was obvious.

Cousin Andrew Katchadourian.

Doing as he did
at the Temple of Abu Simbel,

where he wandered off alone, desperate.

Where he saw an opportunity.
Hoping to hide his sins under a rock...

...he pushes one.

I...

I don't know what I was thinking.

I...

I wasn't... I wasn't thinking.

I saw them below.

And... And thank God I missed.

And you must all know...

I didn't kill her.
I would never do that.

I... I loved her.

I didn't kill her!

No, he did not.

Linnet Doyle's murder was not a wild act.
It was methodically planned.

The details, the times,
the bullets, the alibis.

But planned by who?

I turn to Bouc once more.

Why did you paint him in a green jacket?

He wore red on the pyramid.

My red paint went missing.

It was stolen

by Linnet Doyle's murderer.

By her husband, Simon Doyle.

Me?

That's ridiculous.

How could he? He was shot.

Yes, he was shot.
We know this for certain.

What we do not know for certain
is when he was shot.

Or what he did in the moments
after we believed that he was.

Consider...

Madame Doyle reported her husband was
cross with Louise over some nail polish

left at the hotel.
Why should he care?

Because Madame Doyle wore
blood red nail polish,

which had, for him, an intended use.

This gone,
Madame Bouc's paint would have to do.

He also did not expect his wife
to invite a detective to the party.

So, to be safe, he puts me to sleep.
A single glass of champagne

at his insistence sends me to my bed
with my head spinning.

Drugged for his performance.

Miss Otterbourne, you saw a gun fired.

You saw Simon collapse.

A blood-soaked handkerchief to his leg.
At which point you left him.

Busy with Jackie and finding the doctor.

This gives the murderer but moments alone.

Moments are all he needs.
He picks up the pistol.

He runs to his wife's cabin.

Simon...

And he shoots her,

through the temple.

There were scorch marks
on Linnet Doyle's wounds.

The missing scarf
would have eliminated them,

but it was not used on her.

It was instead used here
to muffle the sound of another shot.

- What's the matter, Bouc?
- There's been an accident.

He returns here

to retrieve the scarf
which he had previously hidden.

Where he took the gun one more time
and fired it into his own leg.

After which,
he replaced one bullet

into the gun so if it was found,

we could count not three,

but the two shots
that we believed had been fired.

He then wraps the handkerchief,
the scarf, and the gun

and throws them
into the waters of the Nile.

Then makes himself ready
for the arrival of Dr. Windlesham.

She shot me!

I can't move my leg.

Your alibi secured, you avoid suspicion.

Indeed, you ensured
a multitude of suspects.

Encouraging a guest list
not merely of friends and family,

but exclusively those carrying grudge
or grievance against your wife.

Even our entertainment.

All passing
as a new husband's thoughtfulness.

Blame deflected in every direction
except at you.

You are mad.

That I would shoot myself,
and then somehow kill Louise and Bouc.

He's right. He couldn't have killed them.

He did not kill them.

The second and third murders
were committed

by his accomplice in the first,

and, I believe, by the mastermind
behind this entire ingenious plot.

Jacqueline de Bellefort.

His lover once. His lover still.

Introducing the couple. Stalking them.
Finding them aboard this ship.

Shooting Simon with a blank.

All to create two unassailable alibis.

The grieving husband
left to inherit his wife's fortune

and then, in time,
to marry the woman he loves.

Has always loved.

When I asked Louise Bourget if she had
seen anything, she gave a curious answer.

"If I had come outside my cabin,
I might have seen the killer."

Not yes, not no,
but a veiled threat to Linnet's killer,

who was present in the room.

Simon Doyle.

Who then assured her that Louise
would be taken care of.

Indeed, she was.

As soon as he was able, Simon,
no doubt, sent a message to Jacqueline,

warning her of the new danger.

Telling her where to find a weapon.

And then, when Bouc...

When Bouc detected who had killed Louise,
Simon shouted...

Come on!

...a warning to his accessory...

who shot Bouc through the throat.

Before he could reveal
Jacqueline de Bellefort.

You killed my son?

I'll see you die for this.

Rosie, please.

I swear it.

I swear it.

You can't all believe him.

He has no proof.

True. I have only a sunken gun
wiped of fingerprints, yes.

But it came with a gift.

The handkerchief.

The warm waters of the Nile in springtime

would set the color of blood
to a dull brown.

In those same mysterious waters,
carmine red paint will fade...

to pink.

Oh, how clever is Hercule Poirot.

Was the ambition his or yours?

He needed things.

I needed him.

You never cared for money.

But you could deny him nothing.

Not even a plan
when he could not devise his own.

Simon, what do we do?

Let's go.

They'll take us in.
We'll be separated.

We get off the boat now and we run.

Come on.

It's all right, Simon.
Give it to me.

Uh-uh.

Listen to me.

We can make it.

We've got to go now,
and we've got to be strong.

We can be strong.

We can be strong.

I love you.

I am sorry you have become so wealthy.

Ah, nothing I can't fix.

We might just keep some.

Come on.

They will arrest me now?

No.

So long as you settle her affairs honestly

and pay back what you owe.

You return to London, Doctor?

There's nothing for me in London anymore.

West Africa.

Perhaps I can do some good there.

I wish I'd never got to see you work.

Um...

Perhaps...

- See you soon, Syd.
- Thanks a lot for tonight.

See you in a couple days.

Tell the band one more song,
then they have to finish their rehearsal.

Watch it, mister.

When the storm

Of life is raging

Stand by me

When the storm

We're closed, mate.

Of life is raging

Stand by me

When this world

Is tossing me

Whoa

- Hey, hey, hey, hey
- Like a ship

Oh, yeah

Out on the sea

Stand

By me