Original subtitles

Mimi!

Saucer?

Is he still down there?

He is.

And there's a lot of mess for me to clear up.

Emily?

Emily!

Get rid of him for me.

I'm going out tonight.

Why can't you just be content?

Come along then, Mr. Freddy. Party's over. Come along.

Out you go.

Come on, beginners on stage.

Don't dilly-dally.

Tits and teeth. Tits and teeth.

Come on, get a move on.

Keep it down. Keep the chatter down.

A girl's got to do what a girl's got to do.

Hello, lovelies. Hello, girls.

You're always my favourite. Give us a kiss, Romaine.

Suit yourself.

Oh, Dora, Dora, you know I adore ya.

- And you, as well, sweetheart. - Not too tight... careful.

- They're ready for you now, Miss Moffat. - All right.

Quiet, please.

Standing by.

Put your brains on it, then. Look lively.

- Can I get you anything for you, madam? - No.

Goodnight, Mrs. French.

Excuse me.

Idiot!

He's got my dress.

- I gave you a chance cos I felt sorry for you. - It wasn't my fault.

Nobody here cares. Out.

Clean that up!

Did you enjoy your evening, Madam?

Come in, then.

This is Mr. Vole. He was kind enough to drive me home.

- Is there plenty of ice? - Yes, Madam.

You'll have a drink, Mr. Vole. Take his coat.

Probably best if you run along now.

Mr. Vole? Come and make friends with Mimi.

Ooh!

She likes you.

So after that debacle with the plates and glasses,

what will you do?

I don't know. Try and find something else.

You could work for me.

As a chauffeur?

I could do that.

I was quite good with engines in the army.

No.

I drive my own car.

I didn't really need you to drive me home.

It was a ruse.

A ruse?

Could you hold my drink for me, please, Leonard?

You're really rather beautiful, aren't you?

I don't think so.

Oh, be careful of the drinks.

I don't want them spilling.

When one is a woman of a certain age,

one becomes subject to all manner of tedious lectures

about what one should and shouldn't be.

I'm supposed to no longer have any particular needs, wants,

or appetites.

My fires are supposed to be out.

But they rage unchecked.

Do you follow?

I don't mean to be rude but I think you might be a little bit drunk.

Or I am told to find a man my own age.

Or older. Some bluff old colonel.

Listening to his war stories,

pretending to hang on his every word.

And I don't like old men, Leonard!

I like young men.

I like their company.

I like their skin.

I like their muscles...

their musk...

...their gleam, their vigour,

their heft...

and their spring.

I like to look.

Would �5 be...

...agreeable?

I don't know what I'm supposed to do.

Just do what you would normally do... Leonard.

- Goodnight. - Goodnight.

Let's get you home.

Evening, Miss.

Just give us a moment, sweetheart, would you?

All I've got to do is click my fingers and you're out of here.

So you keep your eyes off him, you hear?

Stay... right... away.

Pissy German bitch.

I'm Austrian, Christine. Not German... Austrian.

There's a difference.

You don't get to call me Christine.

You're just the chorus.

I'm the principal.

You call me Miss Moffat.

- Who's she? - No-one!

Come and see me tomorrow.

We'll have luncheon and go for a drive.

She gets bored very quickly.

I'll give you two weeks, tops, and then you'll be out on your ear.

Your face!

Your funny little face!

What a crosspatch!

Easy come, easy go

That's the way

If love must have its day

Then as it came, let it go...

No, no remorse, no regrets

We should part exactly as we met

Just easy come, easy go...

Miss Mclntyre?

Miss Mclntyre?

We're, er, taking the body away now.

You'll be... coming with us to make your statement.

I already told you who did it.

He was here, I saw him leave, it was him, I saw him.

Why haven't you been and got him yet?

He did it! He did it!

He was here!

I've told you his address! It was him, it was Leonard Vole!

Murdering bastard!

I'll see you tonight?

I expect so.

Come on, then.

You're that one, Sir.

Good morning, Mr. Nelish. My name is John Mayhew. I...

Mr. Nelish?

Good morning, Mr...

Good morning, Mr. Vole.

My name is John Mayhew. I'm here to offer my services

- as your legal representative. - Yes! Yes, please.

I don't understand, they're saying I did it and I didn't do it, I swear.

- I swear I didn't do it. - My initial fee will be ten shillings.

I don't have money... I don't have any money, but, look, I have this.

Please! She gave it to me.

Take this.

- Here. Can you use this? - Out of the way. Stand back.

Please!

- Oh, course it's you, lurking about down here. - Where are you taking him?

Hearing.

But I'm going to need time with my client to ascertain the facts.

These are the facts. I've been up all night, the body's barely cold...

Can I have a moment...

...I've already got the commissioner and the press crawling up my arse.

- Detective Breem, I just want a minute, please! - This way.

Detective Breem, leading the investigation.

Double E in the spelling, yeah? Double E.

I'm sick of you bastards getting it wrong.

- Mr. Breem, can you give us a bit more information? - Double E.

Why's the commissioner so interested?

This isn't some tuppenny-ha'penny tart

clubbed to death in the back of an alley.

This is a rich lady. Society lady.

Thank you, sir. Now her brains are sprayed up the wall.

Vole was seen leaving the house,

the body discovered moments later, blood still steaming.

Where have they taken her?

She's in the morgue, waiting for the coroner.

I need to be with her. She needs to be washed.

- I can make her hair look nice. - Nah. Nah.

They'll do all that, you go in and sit down. She's in safe hands.

No, I have to do it. I have to do it! She's my lady!

I look after her! I take care of her, not strangers!

Not strangers looking after her, looking at her and prodding her!

She's mine!

- Sit down, madam, calm down, madam. - She needs me, she's mine!

She's mine!

Make her a cuppa tea, for God's sake! What's the matter with you?

The maid. She found it all.

- Right mess. - I want to read her statement.

There you are. Knock yourself out.

Your boy is a no-mark chancer.

He hasn't got a pot to piss in.

He meets Mrs. Emily French

and, though the maid's not saying, I'm sure there's plenty of...

She's buying him clothes, shoes, whatever he wants.

Within three months, she's made her will, naming him for everything.

That doesn't make him a murderer.

Well, he'd burned a shirt in the grate.

I mean, who burns a shirt unless they've got something to hide?

Like blood.

He opened her skull like a tin of peaches...

and he'll dangle for it.

The prosecution will show that on the 28th of October, 1923,

at approximately 09:30...

Leonard Vole, of Goldhawk Road, London, did murder Mrs. Emily French

- at her home in Holland Park. - I was at home.

I was at home at 09:30, I can prove it!

There are elements to this case which unequivocally indicate

malicious calculation and premeditation and, as such,

the Crown seeks a jury trial

where we will argue for a capital sentence.

My wife. Romaine. I was with her.

I was with her! She can tell them and all this can be over.

What was your relationship with Mrs. French?

Friendly. We're friends. I'm...

I was her companion.

- Were there... Intimacies? - Intimacies?

Intercourse, Mr. Vole.

No. No. Of course not!

Did you know that the will names you as her sole beneficiary?

No, I had no idea.

So you visited her house that night...

Why are you asking me this?

I've told you already that I was at home with Romaine by 09:30.

Christ, she doesn't know about any of this!

Look, will you tell her that I'm sorry?

Tell her that I'm so, so sorry.

Mr. Vole, wives can speak neither for nor against their husbands in court.

Wives are meaningless, useless.

No, but we're not married... not properly.

We call each other husband and wife, she uses my name,

but we're not married.

Please!

Go and see her.

Ask her, she'll tell you.

And where will I find her?

Bernie. Don't you knock?

Have you seen the evening edition?

Isn't that, er, your chap?

The management will be thrilled.

Nothing like a scandal to pack the house.

Evening Standard! Read all about it!

- Good evening. - Evening.

Could you please ensure Miss Vole gets this card?

- Tell her I'll meet her after the performance. - Sure.

- A ticket? - Oh...

Look, anyway, where have you been, Willy?

- I've been fishing at the end of the pier. - Ooh...

- Yes... I caught crabs. - Caught crabs... you daft thing!

- Now listen here. - Stop messing about.

I love you. Oh, I do...

- Give us a kiss. - No.

What will it take for you to kiss me?

Chloroform!

- I'll give you a kiss... - Will you?

- Yes. Pucker up. - Ahh! - Cheeky!

Let me call you sweetheart

I'm in love with you

Let me hear you whisper

That you love me, too

Keep the love light glowing

In your eyes so true

Let me call you sweetheart

I'm in love with you

Let me call you sweetheart

I'm in love with you

Let me hear you whisper

That you love me, too

Keep the love light glowing

In your eyes so true

Let me call you sweetheart

I'm in love with you.

See you in the foyer.

Mr. Mayhew?

Mr. Mayhew?

I'm Romaine Vole.

Oh... Of course.

Were she and Leonard lovers? I think it's best to be direct.

Were they? The paper suggested they were.

Well, that's the newspapers.

He says not.

With your testimony that he was with you at 09:30...

He was with me.

At 09:30.

I left at 10:30.

I was staying near the theatre

because we were rehearsing a new routine early in the morning.

I arrived at my digs about midnight.

I didn't see anybody until the next morning... they'd all gone to bed.

This time last night,

I said to Leonard that I would see him in a couple of days and now...

You the brief?

Dora, this is a private conversation.

Don't be like that.

Did he do it?

No.

Must say, bad enough when your fancy man's knocking another girl

bandy-legged, but when it's some boiler twice your age...

Well, that's really got to sting.

I wish Christine were here to see it.

How she'd laugh!

I'm popular.

- Who is Christine? - Miss Moffat.

The girl who used to sit in the moon before me.

She didn't like me, either.

Leonard must be so frightened.

Miss Vole...

Miss Heilger... Perhaps you should call me Miss Heilger from now on.

Miss Heilger.

I will seek counsel,

but...

you must prepare yourself to hear some difficult things.

That they were lovers.

Well, er...

I'm very used to difficulty, Mr. Mayhew.

As, I think, are you.

I'm home.

So if you could take us through what happened

on night of the murder from the beginning.

I'd gone to a meeting at my church.

We make up parcels for the needy... blankets, jumpers for kiddies.

And she knew by then.

She knew about him.

Everything I'd been telling her was right and now I had proof.

- He's already married! - You're lying! You're lying.

I followed him! I asked their landlady!

Mr. and Mrs. Vole!

Are you saying you fought with your mistress about Leonard Vole?

No! Never!

I'd never raise my voice, let alone my hand to her. I know my place...

unlike some.

I stayed behind after the church meeting, packed up the boxes.

Alone?

The other ladies had family to get back to.

And I'd left Mrs. French with her supper on a tray...

she wanted a quiet evening after all the upset.

So she was on her own.

With Mimi... the cat.

I locked the church up and walked home.

Madam?

Madam!

Madam...

Madam!

And Vole knew that Mrs. French had made her will in his favour.

You heard her tell him so.

And now she knew he was living with this other woman

as husband and wife.

She must have said to him that was it...

he'd been found out. No more money.

And then he did that to her.

Did he seduce Mrs. French?

He had a hold on her.

I knew from the first moment he walked in.

Mr. Vole's hat and coat, Janet.

You shouldn't watch.

You don't have any say over me.

She'll get bored of you.

What if she gets bored of you first?

Think about that.

A nasty piece of goods.

A wrong 'un. Trailing his stink.

He got in between us.

Try not to be so vindictive.

You don't want the jury to think you have some...

vendetta against him. You need to be more impartial.

I want them to know exactly what he's like!

I want him to hang!

Then we must choose your words carefully.

Do you understand?

I'll say it the way you tell me to say it.

Anything to put that rope round his neck.

I'm sorry!

- I'm so sorry! - That's enough of that.

Please, I...

I brought these cigarettes for him.

He'll be glad he's seen you.

Tell him... he's all I'm thinking about.

�5 for your company...

and she paid you other sums.

But it wasn't just your company, was it?

If you lie about this, the jury will wonder what else you're lying about.

I don't want Romaine to know.

She's guessed.

But...

she came to see you and bought these cigarettes.

It wasn't the same, you know.

With Emily.

It wasn't like... being unfaithful.

It wasn't love.

- And you couldn't say no? - What would she have thought?

Oh, it would have been over, wouldn't it?

No more money. No more presents.

- You sound like the police. - I sound like the prosecution.

Because that's what they're going to say.

That, er, you were doing very nicely out of it.

That's why you didn't tell Mrs. French about Romaine,

because that would have been an end to it.

End of your peachy life as a kept man,

as a ponce, a leech.

She made me eat out of her hand... like a dog.

My peachy life?

It was work, is what it was.

So why did you keep going back?

Janet.

Miss Mclntyre.

She kept telling me that Emily would get bored,

chuck me over,

and I kept waiting for that to happen... the easy way out.

No-one getting upset.

If Emily wasn't upset and we parted friends

then maybe she'd recommend me as a chauffeur

or working with cars or something.

But she never did chuck me over, so it just went on.

- Did you get on with Miss Mclntyre? - She couldn't stand me.

- Why? - Because I'm common, Mr. Mayhew.

Why did you burn the shirt?

It was ripped.

It couldn't be mended.

I put it in the fire... I didn't think twice about it.

What did you tell Romaine about the money...

where the money was coming from, the new clothes?

I told her I got a job selling electric carpet sweepers.

That I'd have to be away sometimes.

So you lied.

I hadn't really worked.

Not steady... I couldn't settle to anything.

Not since service. Not since it all being over and coming home.

Romaine was paying for everything,

so she was proud of me for doing so well with my job.

And I liked her being proud of me.

God, what have I done to her?

How am I going to make it up to her?

All I kept thinking was...

play this right and you'll get a job driving cars.

I learned engines in the Army. I'm good with them.

That's all I wanted.

My boy loved engines.

Mad about them.

Army taught him... like you.

He didn't come home.

Gone on the eve of his 17th birthday.

Gas.

We thought we'd get more, didn't we?

Thought we'd all come home heroes.

Live in a house with roses round the door.

Three meals a day with extra gravy.

Any job you want.

Money falling out of your pockets.

End up getting priced like a side of meat...

...and going along with it to pay the rent.

I never hurt Emily.

And I swear I didn't know anything about the will.

I believe you, Leonard.

I believe you.

Young Mr. Vole must be hung like a Clydesdale stallion.

Never fails to amaze me how the ladies can utterly

lose their damn minds if a man is even semi-adroit

in the fucking department.

The maid loathes him. Jealous, probably.

Well there's something about Janet Mclntyre. Something not right.

She's very possessive about Mrs. French.

"My lady," she kept saying.

"She's mine."

That's how servants speak. "My lady", "My gentleman."

I never knew a valet or a lady's maid who wasn't rabidly possessive.

But it could undermine her testimony.

I'm never too keen on wrong-footing servants.

It makes us look like bullies.

And if this wasn't already pretty bloody hopeless,

the sole witness for the defence is an actress from Vienna.

Romaine Heilger is not what you'd expect.

When the court hears "actress", they'll think "whore".

When they hear "Vienna"...

Well, we all know what they'll think then.

Miss Heilger will make an impressive witness.

She's restrained.

Composed. Dignified.

Well, there's a first.

And this revue she's in...

What is it... all sauce and thighs and squealing?

It's quite old-fashioned, actually.

Songs. Dances.

Amusing sketches.

Would you let your wife see it?

Yes.

Isn't there something you can take for that? It's rather annoying.

I do apologise, Sir Charles.

Gas damage... there's...

nothing to be done about it.

I see.

Well, never mind.

This isn't for me, Mayhew.

Mrs. French's estate includes a cash balance of �185,000,

a townhouse in Holland Park,

furs, jewellery, art, antiques,

a Hispano-Suiza motorcar,

and stocks and shares in, amongst other things, sewing machines,

telephones and mining.

Bernie! Oh, put it away!

Let me call you sweetheart

I'm in love with you

Let me hear you whisper

That you love me, too

Keep the love light glowing

In your eyes so true

Let me call you sweetheart

I'm in love with

You.

Hm.

Do you like it?

People in the street are talking about you... about your case.

In the shop, when I go in.

They're all pointing bits out to me

where your name's been written.

They all want to know if he did it.

Tell them no.

I will.

Pretty as a picture.

People will hear... the neighbours!

Sorry...

I'm so...

- I'm sorry. - It doesn't matter.

Doesn't matter.

Court is in session.

Justice Greville Parris presiding. All rise.

Bring him up.

Leonard Vole, you are charged with the murder of Mrs. Emily French.

How do you plead?

Not guilty.

Speak up!

Not guilty.

I will hear opening statements.

Sir Hugo Meredith for the Crown.

To look at him, standing there,

you'd think there was nothing to Leonard Vole, wouldn't you?

Nothing to him at all.

But Leonard Vole's a dissembler.

A fraud. A thief. A liar.

He lied to Mrs. Emily French...

a rich, indulgent, generous widow.

A lonely woman,

susceptible to his hollow charms.

She was so besotted with him,

she changed her will in his favour

and told him.

And when it all came crashing down,

when Mrs. French discovered the despicable truth, he killed her!

He beat her to death!

A defenceless woman in her own home.

And then, he went home and he went to bed.

When he was arrested, he was sleeping like a baby.

This depraved abomination is a cold-blooded killer

and only the harshest penalty will suffice.

Sir Charles Carter KC for the defence.

Gentlemen of the jury, Leonard Vole is guilty.

He is guilty of lying.

He is guilty of leading a double life.

He is guilty of enjoying presents and gifts.

He is guilty of lacking good judgment.

But he is not guilty of murder.

Leonard Vole did not kill Emily French. He can't have done...

he wasn't there.

And despite my learned friend's thrilling rhetorical bombast,

it overlooks the basic law of physics...

a man cannot be in two places at the same time.

It's impossible.

Leonard Vole was a foolish young man.

He is most emphatically not a murderer.

And you will find him innocent of the charge.

I will hear witnesses for the Crown at ten o'clock tomorrow morning.

Court adjourned.

All rise.

You only have a few minutes.

I just want to see him.

Well, we have to make sure nothing's said that leads the witness.

Romaine, I...

I don't know what to say.

I don't know what to say to make this better.

I've done...

Leonard...

Hang.

Romaine!

- Romaine! - The prosecution's witness now. You stay back.

You stay right back.

- Romaine! - Wait! Please wait.

He wasn't there when he said he was. He came in later.

Much later. And guess what?

He was covered in blood.

Hey, Mayhew. Your boy?

Why are you doing this?! Please!

You shouldn't be here.

Why?

Because justice has to be served.

You told me he was with you at 09:30.

No... you said that, John.

I just said he was with me, and he was.

But not until much later.

You're lying.

- This is revenge. - I have to go to work.

You're hurting me, Mr. Mayhew.

You're sending him to the gallows...

...and he loves you.

Oh...

You are a romantic.

Of course you are.

Weeping over a sentimental song.

Crying and crying as though your heart would break.

No, it's so much worse than that.

You are crying and crying as if your broken heart...

could heal.

As though...

there's hope.

As if there really is such a thing as love.

You have the look of a guilty man, John.

And it makes you so very easy to hurt.

Go home.

Scandal of the decade!

Showgirl turns the tables on her murdering lover!