All language subtitles for 0402 Murder is Easy

I'm afraid the vicar seems
to have been delayed this morning,

but, as we sing our first hymn,
we remember Florence Gibbs,

whose sudden passing last week
has shocked and saddened us all.

Her granddaughter, Amy tells me
that this was a favourite of hers.

"Breathe on Me, Breath of God".

- Your tie's squiffy.
- Hmm?

Oh, thank you, Miss Conway.

Wipe your nose.

♪ Breath on me, breath of God ♪

♪ Till I am wholly Thine ♪

♪ Til all this earthly part of me ♪

♪ Glows with Thy fire divine ♪

♪ Breath on me, breath of God ♪

♪ So shall I never die ♪

♪ But live with Thee the perfect life ♪

♪ Of Thine eternity ♪

Do you think Scotland Yard
closes for lunch?

Scotland Yard? I doubt it.

Ah, what a relief.

I have to report a murder.

Really?

Well... two actually, and that's so far.

You see...

Florrie Gibbs knew her onions
as far as mushrooms were concerned,

and the vicar would hardly forget
to wear his mask

with his Wellington boots.

- I suppose not.
- So it has to be Scotland Yard.

Murder is easy, you see...

as long as nobody thinks
it is murder.

Which they don't.

Except for me.

And the dreadful thing is

I'm starting to have my
suspicions about the Bumblebee.

I'm sorry, I don't quite follow.

You suspect the bumblebee
is the murderer?

- No, no.
- No.

No, I suspect he's going to
be the next victim.

He's been quite sluggish.

Unless, of course, the killers'
got their eye on me.

I could be next..

Have you shared your concerns
with anyone in... Wychwood?

Only with Mr. Wonky.

He's the soul of discretion.

Persian.

Melchester! Change for all trains to London!

This is me.

Platform two for the train
to London Victoria!

I'll be all right, won't I.

- I do hope so.
- So do I.

For as much as it hath pleased Almighty God
in His great mercy

take on to Himself the soul of
our dear sister Lavinia here departed.

We therefore commit her
body to the ground.

Earth to earth... Ashes to ashes...

Dust to dust...

in sure and certain hope of the
resurrection to Eternal Life,

through our Lord Jesus Christ...

Amen.

- Hello.
- Hello.

I don't really know anybody.

Well, you do now.
I'm Luke Fitzwilliam.

- You are coming back, aren't you?
- Of course, Miss Waynflete.

- Ah, this is ...?
- Ah... Jane Marple.

- Hello.
- I'm Honoria.

Were you a friend of Lavinia's?

An acquaintance.

Do come back with Luke, won't you?

Thank you.

Were they very close?

Didn't Lavinia mention her?

They were best friends.

Well, Lavinia had so many friends.

- Poor Bumble Bee.
- Who?

Dr Humbleby. Looks like death.

- Won't you persuade him?
- Fat chance.

Geoff's just being sensible.

Back to the surgery and
I'll give one once-over.

No. And it's Dr. Thomas to you,
not Geoff.

For God's sake!

Rose...

And she's Miss Humbleby!

Edward, dear, you are
looking a bit peaky.

Is that your expert diagnosis?
Peaky?

Edward... Careful!

Honoria, my dear, in the midst of life.

Major Horton.

Our local bigwig.
Member of Parliament for Darlow.

And a hot tip for Foreign Secretary
after the election.

I'm so sorry,
so dreadfully sorry.

I imagine he's very good
at public meetings.

I'll introduce you.

- Lydia Horton.
- Jane Marple.

Promotion at last. How smart.

Thank you, Mrs. Horton.

You know about my predecessor's
tragic death, Miss Marple.

Lavinia mentioned it, yes.

It was a foolish thing.

He neglected to wear a mask,
when he was spraying his hives.

Got a lungful of poison.

- Reverend. How's tricks?
- Ah, good morning, Bridget.

- Can I go through?
- By all means.

Luke.

Miss Conway is on a brass-rubbing holiday.

She's touring the county's
historic churches.

Staying at the Seven Stars.

- She's American.
- Yes, isn't she?

Shall we?

What on Earth is that?

Just a popular tune.

I must remember start
rationing the wireless.

Well, escalators can be tricky,
if one's not used to them.

But I, er... I can't imagine what
Lavinia was doing in London?

When had you last seen her?

Ooh, when was it?

Where is Hugh up to?

He's over there with someone.

Ah, yes, they'll be discussing
Hugh's campaign for general election.

That's James Abbot,
our local solicitor.

A staunch member of the Association.

The Conservative Association.

I doubt Miss Marple imagines that
Hugh's a socialist.

Sausage... rolls?

Er... no, thank you, Amy.

I don't know why Honoria keeps
that ghastly girl on...

I feel sorry for her.

Alone in the world since Florrie died.

- Florrie Gibbs?
- That's right, Amy's grandmother.

She'd been mushroom picking for her supper,
unfortunately picked the wrong sort.

Poisonous... An agonising way
to go, apparently.

And less than a week later,

we lost the vicar.

Now, stop fussing!

I'm all right.

- Is everything all right?
- Impressive house, Honoria.

Oh. I was born here.

Was there just you?

I had a brother.

And you, Mrs Horton?
Are you Wychwood born and bred?

Oh, no, no, no, I'm a... Hexley girl,
originally, along by the river.

And you know what they say
about Hexley girls...

- Hugh.
- All true in your case.

Stop it now?

Ah, is it time for your tea, Wonkypoo?

Thank you.

Mr. Wonky, I presume.

Its what Lavinia called him, yes.
He adored her.

Don't!

He... He's had a poorly ear.

Geoff!
Glass of water please!

Let's sit you down.

Can I have a hand back
to the surgery?

Thank you.

He'll be ticketyboo in no time.

I can't think how I made a mistake
with the train times back.

Just as well you have some
overnight things.

I brought them just in case.
You never know, do you?

Erm... How long were you away
from Wychwood?

Five years.

Well, I came over for my mother's
funeral, two years ago,

but had to go straight
back again to Malaya.

Now there's a whole lifetime of stuff
to sort out before I move on.

Where to?

Good question.

Nearly there.

You can take my room.

The spare one's like the black hole of Calcutta.

- Make yourself at home.
- Thank you.

Now, Miss Marple...

Tell me, exactly how exactly
did you know Miss Pinkerton?

I don't remember exactly.

Malaya? What did you do there?

I was a police detective.

Which comes very handy when
someone's "spinning me a yarn".

Oh. Well, in that case,

I met Lavinia Pinkerton, for the
first time on the day she died.

I believe she may have been murdered.

You don't look batty.

- Thank you, Mr. Fitzwilliam.
- Appearances can be deceptive.

I'm also concerned about
Dr. Humbleby.

Lavinia told me that he'd been...

- He...
- Oh, hell.

Hello. Savoy Hotel.

Sorry.

Thanks, Geoff.

Humbleby is dead.

Dr. Thomas is moving into
Edward's room,

Well, it's lovely of you to come, but
I'm off to the Parrish Hall.

I'm stuffing election leaflets
for Hugh.

Don't you think,
under the circumstances...

You want to try and stop me, but
I can see through your little game.

- What?
- Oh, I'm campaigning to Labour.

Jessie, a few leaflets here or there
aren't going to make much difference.

I could make your apologies
for you, if you'd like.

Me stay here?

Well, if it's the done thing.

Tea?

Geoff...

Sorry, she's a bit...

Grief affects people
in different ways.

What did Humbleby die of?

Acute septicaemia.
Blood poisoning.

Edward had cut his finger, and Geoff says
it must have become infected.

- How did he get the cut?
- Search me.

He was a clumsy old clot.

Clumsy and stubborn.

He absolutely refused to countenance
Rose marrying Geoff.

And Geoff is perfectly decent.
And Rose loves him.

Just because is modern generation
and bang up-to-date.

No, no, no, no, no,
wrong cups.

Still, it's all changed now, hasn't it?

Let's all have now lots and
lots and lots of sugar.

Come in, Amy.

Goodbye, Dr. Thomas.

Have a seat.

Poor old Humbleby.

God rest his soul.

Amen.

How good of you to step into
Jessie's shoes, Miss Marple.

All hands to the pump.

We'll be out knocking on
doors, if you're not careful.

No, thank you.

Never quite sure about politics.

They also serve
who only sit and lick.

We're awfully pleased with
Hugh's new photograph.

- He does wear well, doesn't he?
- Yes.

Ah, how tactless of me,
I'm so sorry.

No, honestly.

Hugh once asked me to marry him.

But I had to say no.
I had Leonard to consider.

Excuse me.

Oh, dear.

- Leonard?
- Oh, her brother.

Er... Miss Marple doesn't want to hear
our village gossip, Lydia.

Oh, I... I don't mind.
Really.

Well... Leonard Waynflete
was mentally retarded.

A simpleton, to use
a kinder term.

Honoria had to take care of him, because
their parents had died very young,

so she turned down Hugh's proposal.

Then, Leonard died, by which time
Hugh and I had fallen for each other

and there was... well,
there was no going back.

That must have been
very hard for both of you.

Well, she... she came to the engagement
party and smiled bravely,

but it was only a few weeks
after Leonard's death,

and after that, she shut herself away
like a hermit for months.

I... I still feel a little guilty, but...

Why, em.
I'm doing teas.

Where is Miss Waynflete?

Oh, erm...
powdering her nose.

Cheer up, Amy.
It might never happen.

Oh, don't stare.

Sorry.

What is the matter?

The hives were infested with mites.

The spray to treat them
is highly poisonous

and, er... if the wind is in
the wrong direction...

I found him just here.

And he wasn't wearing his mask?

It was still hanging up.

He had become increasingly
absent-minded.

The previous evening, he'd filled
his pipe from the tea caddy,

instead of his tobacco tin,
according to Miss Conway.

- Bridget?
Hmm. She was, er, visiting.

Well, see yourself out, won't you?

Thanks.

Wasn't it sad about Miss Pinkerton?

So soon after the vicar... and,
of course, your grandmother.

She was lovely, my Gran..

A real country woman,
knew about things.

What sort of things?

How to help people.

Her and uncle Henry.

And who's that?

- Never mind. Would you pass the biscuits?
- You have to be so careful with mushrooms,

not to pick the poisonous sort,
don't you?

When you get to Granny's age...

Begging your pardon.

She said herself, she wasn't
sure about the door.

- Water's boiled,
- Oh. The door?

She was stirring her stew
in the kitchen when she thought

she heard a knock at the
front door, but nobody was there.

Was she expecting someone?

That Yank woman.

Did she said why Miss Conway
was coming?

Well...

the vicar...

the old vicar...

he put them in touch.

That's all she told me
before she took ill.

I ran and got Dr Humbleby,
but it was too late.

Oh, dear...

early night for you.

I'm going to listen to the wireless.

Miss Waynflete's got some
hat dye, somewhere,

I got this straw hat needs
jazzing up.

Oh. You want to look smart
for a young man?

I haven't got a young man.

You don't get enough with a spoon.

You need not have opened today.

I'd rather keep busy.

Terry, I don't suppose anyone's
found a book and handed it in?

Nature's poisons.

- Nature's poisons?
- Sounds a grim read.

Not if it helps you distinguish
between deadly nightshade and bilberries.

It hasn't been issued in five years,
I can't find it anywhere.

- Do you want to report it stolen?
- No, it's going to turn up, I dare say.

- Thanks.
- Did you find everything you're looking for?

Getting there.

- How are the troops?
- "Fighting fit".

Any custard creams left?

You know what to do with this.

Steady. Ladies present.

The library's not the place for
political propaganda.

And who asked for the Collected Works of
Karl Marx to be on the shelves for all to see?

That's History, not propaganda.

Come on, Geoff.
There's a principle in stake.

And where did you get your
principles from? Moscow?

No reason you can't put up your
socialist poster as well,

- that's democracy.
- There's only space for one.

And it's the socialist National
Health System, Mrs Horton

that pays for your treatment.

And I pay my taxes, which means
I'm your employer now, doctor.

So I thank you not to be
impertinent to my wife.

May I suggest,
it's just a thought...

Why not take turns
with your posters?

Labour one day,
Conservative next.

The judgement of Solomon.

Not exactly,

but it would be a solution.

Why not?

Why not?

Could you pass my victory speech Lydia?

Excuse me. Time I started
the revolution.

I think I'll leave you to politics.

- I must see your lovely church.
- Thank you so much, Miss Marple.

There will never be a socialist
in Hugh's seat.

All the same, change can be
a force for good...

- sometimes.
- What?!

Thinking aloud. Ignore me.

I garden.
That's my hobby.

One's close to the
God's heart, in a garden.

- Mine's an unholy tangle.
- Oh.

Can you hand me one of those
wax sticks?

- These?
- Yeah.

Where else in the County
have your travels taken you?

Uh... Darlow, that's a pretty church.

Belhurst, along the river.

All around.

- Do you think you'll stay long?
- My plans are open-ended.

Oh. I'm all thumbs today.

So, how's the gorgeous
Luke Fitzwilliam?

- Gorgeous?
- Sure he is. I should know.

I've been round the block
a few times.

Hello, Miss Marple.
What do you think of our church?

Charming.

Oh, erm... would you like this?

The last of the vicar's honey?

I offered to Mrs. Horton
forgetting she's diabetic.

Oh, how lovely.

You must miss
Reverend Minchin.

The whole village does.

He had the pastoral gift.
A true comforter of troubled souls.

Now, are you sure about
Reverend Minchin's mask?

Definitely tampered with so
he'd breathe in the poison spray.

The killer must have removed it

after he was dead and then
put it back in its place.

I knew he couldn't be
that absent-minded.

Any more than Florrie Gibbs.
"A real country woman" as Amy said,

would pick the wrong mushrooms.

Do you know of Amy's uncle, Henry?

Never heard of him.

Uncle Henry. It rings a bell.

Oh, anyway...

By the way, Bridget Conway says
she thinks that you're... rather nice.

- Rather nice?
- Well... gorgeous.

Just as well. I've asked her
to lunch at the Seven Stars, tomorrow.

- Oh.
- What?

Well ...I just wonder...

why she wanted to see
Florrie Gibbs and the reverend Minchin

around the time of their deaths.

When did she arrive in Wychwood?

Er... a few days before Florrie Gibbs
died, as far as I know.

But if you think that Bridget has any
involvement with any of this...

I'm not sure...
of what I think, yet.

I'll ask her not to poison lunch.

So did you come back to England
for someone special?

No.

My posting had come to an end
and I had my mother's house to sort out.

There's no one special.

Uh-huh.

Is that a cynical "uh-huh"?

It's a wait-and-see "uh-huh".

Hmm.

Tell me about home.

Your family.

- It's a long story.
- We've time.

Do you have brothers, sisters?

For all I know.
I was adopted.

Where does the river Wychbourne run?

Erm... Hexley...

and then all points east until
it reaches the sea. Why?

Just checking my sense
of direction hasn't deserted me.

Uh-huh.

Oh!

Holy Moly..

- Was it me?
- Don't flatter yourself. My ankle!

- What can I do?
- I'll manage.

- I just have to go back.
- No, I'm taking you. Lean on me.

I'm a big girl now, Luke.
I said I'll manage.

Bridget...

I just need a king size aspirin
and a pack of ice.

They won't have ice at the Seven Stars.

Ask them for a hot water bottle.

Secateurs, twines,
little pots, big pots,

in-between pots, and assorted dibbers.

- Are you sure 'bout this, Jessie?
- Never more so.

I'm having the garden
all crazy paved.

- Your lovely garden?
- It was Edward's garden.

I never cared for flowers.

- No, you love flowers.
- You mustn't contradict me. I'm a widow.

You're so lucky, Lydia.
I always thought so.

Ooh, garden gloves.

Try them on, Hugh.
See if they fit.

Rose, where's that tweed jacket
of your father's?

No, really... No, we must go.

Thank you for these.

Yes, and if there's anything
we can do...

Come on, mother, let's go in.

That's not normal.
What's going on?

She's shell shocked.
Wouldn't you be?

I'm not planning on
dropping dead I hope.

Only if the socialists get in.

Ah. Happy?
How can I not be?

- Mister Foreign Secretary.
- No, nothing is certain.

Not until that call from the Prime Minister.

- Miss Conway!
- Major, Mrs. Horton.

- Still here?
- Looks I've become a fixture.

You are quite exotic.

We haven't had any Americans
here since the war.

- What about pre-war?
- Rarer than hens' teeth.

Though, weren't there some of them
in Hexley, when you were a girl?

- Only for a summer.
- No, staying in Hexley Hall?

Oh, we're going to be late.
Sorry, Miss Conway.

- See you.
- Bye.

- More cake, Jane?
- It is delicious.

My mother's recipe.

Is... is that your brother?

Mm. My child, in a way.

He drowned.

He was always playing the giddy
goat down by the river.

I couldn't be with him every minute
of every day.

We think he must have been
balancing on the rocks and... slipped.

There you are, then.

How's his ear?

Oh, it's healed up nicely, hasn't it,
you spoiled thing?

Major Horton is much better suited
with Lydia, as it turned out.

Oh, I'm sure Lydia told you
the whole sorry saga.

And why not? There were no
hard feelings from any of us, and...

well, I could never have been
a politician's wife.

One needs ambition.

Mr Abbot was wrong yesterday about
the judgement of Solomon, wasn't he?

That story is not about compromise,
but about sacrifice.

- Excuse me.
- I do wish you'd knock, you silly girl!

If you please, madam...
Please, don't call me silly. I'm not.

No...

Oh, poor you.
Why don't you have a lie-down?

Look, Amy, dear.
I found those hat dyes you wanted.

Ask me later.

Thank you, Miss Waynflete.

I do try and see the best in her, but...

I took her only as a favour
to her grandmother.

Florrie Gibbs was quite a character.

- How was lunch?
- Lunch, good. After lunch, awful.

Americans...
God knows how we ever won the war.

- Will you come?
- I'm off to tune my bike.

You never know how you
are with a carburettor.

Frankly, not to speak ill of the dead,
Humbleby was past it.

Perhaps now I can make a real difference
to the health of our community.

Do you think that...
- Aah.

- Aaah. "Gu you king gat"...
- Wider.

Do you think that Labour
has a chance

of defeating Major Horton in the election?

Short of him dropping dead, no.

But we'll give him
him a run for his money.

Excuse me.

Wychwood surgery, Dr. Thomas speaking.

Hello, Henry.

No, no, don't come here.

So... I'll come to you.

Well... I have to tell you...

You're as fit as a flea.

Ah, I was almost sure I had
a palpitation.

Mm. Perhaps you're confuse.

Sometimes, Miss Marple,
as one gets older...

As one gets older, Doctor,
sometimes one gets wiser.

Cooey!

- I'm keeping my spirits up.
- So I see.

What were you asking, Jane?

About Florrie Gibbs...

Honoria Waynflete said she was
quite a character.

Oh, thank you.

She knew everyone's secrets.

We called her "the witch"
when we were children.

That crooked little cottage,
with all those lotions and potions.

She was very good with warts.

What an original taste.

It's quite experimental.

Is St Mary Mead like Wychwood?

Most villages are the same,
don't you think?

Lots going on.

And a doctor's wife must hear
all manner of things.

Like Sir Lionel's unusual condition
he picked up in India?

Honoria and the abortion.

Mrs. Blears and the gin bottle.

Honoria and what?

Oh, not for herself. No!

When she was postmistress,
Edward used to say

they'd have to put "return unopened"
on her grave,

but he could be quite crude.

No, she enquired for a friend,
years ago.

Edward gave her very short shrift.

- Who was the friend?
- She wouldn't say.

I have my suspicions,
but that would be telling.

Drink up, let's try something else.

Amy?

I have to commit a terrible sin.

Go through.

Amy?

I can usually find out anything I
want in a library.

Can you? Good.

Except today.

There's something nagging
away at me

and I'm almost sure
it was horticulture.

I thought it was the name of a rose,
but it's not.

"Uncle Hendrick".

I'm not a gardener.

- Don't you have hobbies?
- I have interests.

Politics?

Serving the nation is a
noble aspiration, Miss Marple.

And in the unlikely event
the opportunity presents itself...

Excuse me.

- Good night, Miss Waynflete.
- Good night, Amy.

Amy?

I thought she overslept.

But I knocked and called and,
well, she locked the door.

Thank God, Luke had a ladder.

Amy is not very well.

Actually she is dead.

Oh. The hat dye.

She has poisoned herself.

I don't think she meant to.

♪ Lo! Jesus meets us ♪

♪ Raising from the tomb ♪

♪ Warmly He greets us ♪

♪ Shatters fear and doom ♪

Not a close family, the Gibbs.

Here from duty.

Amy's uncle Henry didn't come.

- Who?
- Didn't Amy have an uncle Henry?

- Not to my knowledge.
- Oh.

Vote Horton.. and give your local
candidate a resounding victory.

Vote Horton!

Make sure your vote counts!

Vote Conservative and keep
socialism at bay!

Dinosaurs.

Why didn't she put the light on?
She wouldn't have mixed up the bottles.

I wonder why she locked the door.

We should wait for the inquest

before we jump to conclusions,
don't you think?

Amy wanted to dye her straw hat.

I had some old bottles of hat dye
and she chose one.

The next time I saw her, it was
in her room... when... she...

- When her body was discovered?
- Yes.

Thank you, Miss Waynflete.

Constable Terence Reed.

I climbed in through the window.

Ascertained that the deceased
was, erm... dead,

and unlocked the door to admit
Miss Waynflete and Miss Marple.

That's when I noticed...
em, well, we noticed.

A bottle of cough
mixture on the washstand,

almost identical in shape and size
to the bottle of hat dye.

So, she took the wrong bottle,
from the washstand in the dark

and drank from it, with fatal consequences?
- Exactly.

Death was due to poisoning
by the oxalic acid

- in the Scarlet Flame hat dye?
- Yes.

Thank you, Dr. Thomas,
you may step down.

The day before, I not only prescribed
her cough mixture,

I also gave her the results
of a medical test.

She was pregnant.

What was her reaction to this news?

She was shocked and upset.

Yet?

She was praying and said she had
to commit a terrible sin.

Might she have been referring
to suicide?

It seems so now.

Of course it wasn't suicide!
Say something.

Miss Waynflete?

Was Miss Gibbs in the habit of
locking the door at night?

No, she wasn't.

But this time she wanted
to shut out the world.

Not uncommon to suicides.

Please, sir?

Speaking as an ex-police officer,

I feel duty bound to point out
to you that...

Miss Gibbs could have been murdered.

Do you have evidence to this event?

No. But it is possible that someone

could have entered through the window,

changed the positions of the bottles on
the washstand as she slept,

so that when she awoke with her coughing,

she would have taken
the wrong bottle back to bed.

And the locked door?

Perhaps she was afraid of someone.

In view of the doubts raised
by Mr. Fitzwilliam

and wishing to leave no stone unturned...

I adjourn this inquest pending
further enquiries by the police.

Miss Pinkerton never said
anything to me.

Perhaps she thought that
you wouldn't believe it.

I'm not sure I do.

Florrie Gibbs, the reverend Minchin,

Miss Pinkerton herself.
Dr. Humbleby,

and now Amy?
All?

All murdered?

Terence?

She'll be wanting police protection now.

Why did she pretend to sprain her ankle?

Maybe she didn't want to kiss you.

What makes you think I tried?

I'm not batty, remember, Luke?

No, Jane.

I dare say she does find you gorgeous

but can't afford being distracted
from her real reason for coming here.

- Which is?
- I don't know.

All I'm sure is that a
genuine brass-rubber

would refer to 'heelball' and not 'wax'.

I thought you'd be
asking about Amy.

It's a complicated investigation,
Miss Waynflete.

So if you'd try and recall
the day of Miss Pinkerton's death.

I was baking.

A treat for Lavinia.

She loved my ginger cake.

Any visitors, anyone who can
confirm you were at home?

Only Amy, sadly.

But even she went out
for an hour or so. I don't know where.

But she put on lipstick.

I was in the big, big city, that day.

You mean London?

Ding, dong, Big Ben and jolly red buses.

Why?

Don't be nosey, Terry, it's private.

Mrs. Humbleby, it is my job
to find out things.

- And don't be a bossy beat. I that all?
- No.

Hard cheese.

Well, unless you have any more thoughts
about your husband's death?

Oh, masses. But I couldn't possibly share
them with you, naughty buy.

No, I did not throw Lavinia down
the escalator!

The suggestion is outrageous.

I wasn't suggesting anything.

I wasn't even in London that day.

I was playing golf.

And I remember because
I had a new niblick,

and I holed my second off the
ninth for an albatross.

- Bad luck.
- Hm?

Er... well done.

Thank you.

She showed me a photograph of
the grounds taken 22 years ago,

when Lord Whitfield had
Hexley Hall as a family home.

What was in the photograph?

The river, down by the south boundary,
where it grows all reedy.

It said River Wychbourne on the back.

She said she found it
when her parents passed away.

I recognised where it was
straight away.

Especially with the girl
in the background.

I told Miss Conway who she was,

but I didn't tell her what
we used to get up to.

- Who was she?
- Fruity Fleming.

Fruity?

Yeah. Ripe for the plucking
was our Lydia Fleming.

Went on to marry our Major Horton.

Thank you.

Hm. I only knew Amy as,
erm... what she was.

Honoria indulged her shortcomings

and, one was polite, but...

Terence, I rub shoulders with
the Lord Lieutenant of the County.

- Must be exciting.
- Damned hard work, actually.

And when he wins the election...

If he gets his cabinet position,
it will be even harder.

I suppose the major will have
to cut down on his golf?

No, no, no, I'm the keen golfer.

Hugh hasn't played at all this year.

Have you had recent dealings with the
Empson Confidential Enquiry Agents?

How do you know that?

Which enquiries were they
making for you?

Confidential ones, hence their name.

Sorry to interrupt.
Your tea's ready, Constable.

Amy?

Was it him she went to meet?

Sorry. I'll be going now.

On the day Miss Pinkerton died,

I understand Amy Gibbs went
to meet a man.

I'm interviewing several
witnesses, Mr Abbot.

Witnesses?

You can't even sneeze in Wychwood
without someone offering you a hanky.

Are you saying a witness saw me,
with Amy?

We used to meet in the woods,
by the waterfall.

It was my baby she was carrying...

And now she's dead.

And so is my reputation,
if it gets out.

Oh, she was willing enough,
and I do have needs, Terry.

And not much going for me,
not like Horton.

What's the Major got to do with this?

You all think he's such an
upstanding example of..

- I know things.
- Such as?

His disgraceful lack of
responsibility.

Have you ever wondered why
Leonard Waynflete drowned?

- He slipped on the rocks.
- Yes.

And the night before, Horton was
pouring whisky down him.

He drank enough to sink
a battleship...

and he'd still have been
woozy next day.

Maybe that's why he lost his balance?

You said you know things.

What else do you know about the Major?

That will do for now.

- You nearly killed me.
- You nearly followed me.

Why did you come to Wychwood?

- What're you looking for?
- Not you.

Yet.

Before I forget, Terry,
that missing book's turned up.

But I can't think how...
"Nature's Poisons"?

Oh, never mind the library book.
Just sit down, please.

Dr. Thomas, do you know a Henry?

No.

Why were you out at
Hexley Hall earlier today?

Hexley Hall?

You were observed.

Henry Temple.
He's a psychiatrist there.

I've been to see him a couple of times to
discuss... possibilities for your mother.

She's heading for a nervous breakdown.

How do you know?

Why else is she behaving
the way she is?

Well...

I feel I just took an exam.

Ah, you passed with flying colours.

Do you think there's anything
in what Mr Abbot said

- about the Major and Leonard Waynflete?
- Plenty, yes.

- Now I must go the library.
- Oh. Well, shall I wait here

in case Luke telephones with
a progress report?

Ah, I expect he'll be straight back,
once he went straight to Darlow

and to Empson Confidential Enquiry Agents.

Nature's Poisons.

Do you happen to know how
this found it's way back?

It's a mystery.

Or perhaps not.

Ah. You found it.
I'm afraid that was me.

- Why on earth did you steal the book?
- Ah, I didn't take it.

I just returned it when I found it
in the vestry cupboard.

- The vicar must have borrowed it.
- For five years?

That's why I sneaked it back.

The fine would be huge.

He was very absent-minded.

Are you sure it was reverend Minchin?

Couldn't someone else
have left it in the cupboard?

I'm the only person in the vestry,
normally.

Although Amy was there.
But why would she have it?

She was poisoned,
but that was hat dye.

Not ancient herbs and roots and berries.

Her grandmother knew all about those,
but Amy was a modern girl.

By the way, did the vicar ever mention

why Bridget Conway came to visit him
the day before he died?

Erm, Lydia Horton might remember,

or Honoria, or Mrs. Humbleby.

They were doing the church flowers,
when Miss Conway first approached him.

Thank you.

Hello, Miss Conway.

You beat me to the draw, Lydia.

- I was coming to see you.
- I have questions.

- Snap.
- Come to my room.

I stand before you...

returned again to Parliament
with a substantial majority.

With a vastly increased majority.

My dear wife by my side.

James!

A sworn statement from
the coroner at the inquest

into the death of Leonard Waynflete.

- James...
- Stand down as candidate.

On the health ground, say.

And endorse me as your replacement.

If I don't?

Either way,
you'll kiss goodbye to be an MP,

let alone Foreign Secretary.

But if you do as I suggest,

you could at least
preserve your good name.

This will destroy Lydia.

Is that the Seven Stars?

I believe my wife is there,

Could you ask her to come
to the phone, please?

It's Major Horton.

Honoria?

Lydia.

Hello, dear.

It's the day I lost Leonard.

I always come here.

What is it?

Everything.

How did you get hold of this report?

Mr Empson of Empson Confidential
Enquiry Agents was out of the office

but his secretary Gloria
was more... susceptible.

All in a good cause.

See? It was blackmail.

Yes, but what can Mr Abbot
from the major?

- "Ambition can creep as well as soar"
- Shakespeare?

- Edmund Burke.
- Is it really?

I've often wondered. Thank you.

Tell constable Reed

what Hexley Hall gardener
said about the Leary's.

There was a young American couple,
the Leary's,

who stayed at Hexley Hall
as summer guests of Lord Whitfield.

Now, the gardener says that Bridget
was very interested in them.

- She was adopted.
- By the Leary's?

Perhaps.

Oh, I don't see what Miss Conway's
enquiries have to do with ours.

Nor do I, quite yet.

Henry.

Hold on.
If we're looking for a Henry,

Reverend Wake's called Henry.

- Yes he is, isn't he?
- Exactly.

But I knew it was horticultural,
Amy's marked the page.

"Old Uncle Henry" is another name
to the herb Mugwort.

"When combined with
Tanacetum vulgare, or Pennyroyal,

- "it is an efficacious abortifacient."
- Induces abortion.

Amy always said that her Grandmother
and Uncle Henry helped people.

Ancient Herbs. Not such a modern girl,
after all.

Is it exciting, growing up in America?

Did you have a white picket fence
and a swinging seat on the verandah?

On the 17th floor of an apartment block?

Oh. But it was a nice apartment?

Mm, swell. Uptown.

Is that good?

- That's very good, Miss Waynflete.
- Oh.

Luke Fitzwilliam.
You could do worse.

And so could he... a wholesome
and healthy girl, like you.

Wait.

You owe me a kiss.

You think I kiss guys
who spy on me?

You think I kiss girls
who lie to me?

You just asked to.

I'm making an exception on your case.

- Tell me the truth.
- It hurts.

- The truth can.
- No, my arm, Dumbo.

Tomorrow.

I'll know everything then.

But I warn you, it's crazy.

Strong hands.

You too.

- You're madder than I am.
- We're not saying that you're mad.

If you think you're locking me away
in Hexley Hall...

It would be just
a rest for you, Jessie.

Ripe Cherry or Congo Crimson?

Come to Evensong.
Let's all stay together.

What are you afraid of?
Five horrid deaths?

Number six won't be me,
I can tell you that.

I'm far too strong.

Mother...

Come on.

Hugh!

Lydia says she told you what happened.

She told me what, but not why.

How dare he.

What're you going to do about it?

What can I do?

I'm so sorry, Hugh.

- Where's Lydia?
- She's at home.

You'll have to go.

Oh, Lydia asked me to tell you
she has decided to do the right thing.

What did she mean?

I have no idea.

She's in a hell of a state.

♪ He lives to silence all my fears ♪

♪ He lives to wipe away my tears ♪

♪ He lives to calm my broken heart ♪

♪ He lives to bless who's truly ... ♪

Did Bridget give you any idea
at all what she'll know tomorrow?

No.

Ours is a community
of good souls..

Full of goodwill and
abounding in strength.

Where is she?

As the Psalm has it,
"The Lord is my strength and song,

and is become my salvation."

♪ I'll remind you to remind me ♪

♪ We said we wouldn't look back ♪

♪ And if you should happen to find me ♪

♪ With an outlook dreary and black ♪

♪ I'll remind you to remind me ♪

♪ We said we wouldn't look back ♪

Lighten our darkness,
we beseech Thee, oh Lord.

And by Thy great mercy
defend us

from all perils and dangers of this night,

for the love of Thy only Son,
our Saviour, Jesus Christ.

Amen.

♪ At even, ere the sun was set ♪

♪ the sick, O Lord, around Thee lay ♪

♪ 0, in what diverse pains they met! ♪

♪ 0, with what joy they went away! ♪

Major!

We'd have pulled through.

She could still have held
her head high.

Mrs. Horton injects herself
with 300 units of insulin.

60 was her proper dose.

But Dr. Thomas says that,
with what she'd had to drink,

she would have slipped into a coma
and drowned.

Did she leave a note?

- Not that we've found.
- No.

Wychwood 719.

Yes, he is.

Yes?

In her toe?!

Go on.

- Bridget?
- Oh!

Lydia was going to tell me today.

Tell you what?

That I'm her daughter.

What will I do without her?

You have loyal friends, Hugh.

I know, but she was my rock.

Ah... Hugh.

I'm going to need most of this stuff.

Tragic circumstances in which
to start my parliamentary career,

but I quite understand
why Hugh feels unable to carry on.

Lucky I can step into the breach.

You've got a nerve!

If it hadn't been for you,
Lydia wouldn't have killed herself!

I have a campaign to run.

I never knew the "whys"
or wherefore of my adoption.

This photo was all I had
to go on.

I came here to find the truth.

I asked Reverend Minchin
if he knew of any unwanted baby

born 22 years ago with a
connection to the River Wychbourne.

He pointed me to Florrie Gibbs.

He said she would remember anything
like that from back then. But she died.

Then Major Horton mentioned

some Americans at
Hexley Hall before the war.

And you found the gardener there.

Who said the girl in the photo
was Lydia.

Yesterday she came to the Seven Stars
and asked to see my birthmark.

She recognized it at the inquest.

I know she was about
to tell me the truth,

but then she took a call
from the Major.

It seemed to shock her into scooting off.

She just said
she wanted to see me today.

And now she's killed herself
from fear of scandal.

There's more than mere scandal
involved in her death.

Wear this, Hugh, to lift the
tragic gloom.

Edward never liked it.

I'm not sure that's really...

- I was asking Hugh.
- Mother.

Sorry major Horton, I don't
know what's come over her.

I'm trying to jolly him up.
Look, it suits you.

Would you stop it! Please, Jessie!
Stop it!

Everyone please go.
Leave me alone!

Get out! All of you!

Goodness.

Come one, come all.

Why do you think your wife
committed suicide, Major?

Had she recently discovered something
that might have upset her?

- Oh, no.
- Jessie.

But suppose she had found out
about us.

She didn't. And anyway...

nothing happened.

Jessie and I took in
a matinée of Salad Days.

Such a jolly show.

- Lovely tunes.
- Which you both hum quite prettily.

Jessie was short of cheeriness.

Lydia wouldn't have understood,
so I didn't mention it.

Cheeriness? I was short of
a lot more than that.

I see that now.

I hope you don't think
I was leading you on.

Just a pleasant outing, then.

It's meant to be happy ever after,
even if you marry a clot.

And if it's not...

I do need a rest
somewhere, don't I?

Not at Hexley Hall.
Stay home with us.

Could Mrs. Horton have been upset
for another reason?

Mr. Abbott was blackmailing him.

Yes.

I bribed the coroner
to hide the truth

at the inquest into the death
of Leonard Waynflete.

Why?

Hugh?

The night before Leonard drowned,
he got extremely drunk...

with me.

I was worried that might have
contributed to his fall the next day.

Drunk?
Leonard never touched alcohol.

Leonard came to see me.

I'd already had quite a few.

To tell you the truth, Honoria,

I was wondering if I'd rushed
into things with Lydia

so soon after you turning me down.

Leonard wanted to know why
you were down in the dumps.

I offered him a scotch...

which he rather took to...

after the second glass.

By the time he left he was reeling.

When that and the bribery came to light...

Lydia... thought it was the end of her world.

She asked me to tell Honoria
she'd decided to do the right thing.

If we'd only realised what she meant.

Your wife didn't take
her own life, Major.

As well as the usual mark
left by her insulin injection,

there was another on her toe,

suggesting that an overdose
was administered forcibly

while she was held
under the bath water.

Dear God.

Why would anyone kill Lydia?

Perhaps she'd kept a secret
from years ago.

Dr Humbleby knew a secret,
didn't he?

Honoria asking about abortion
on behalf of a friend.

- Jessie.
- Well... does it matter now?

It will matter to Hugh.

Then, it was Lydia.

Lydia wanted an abortion?

When was that?

Just before your engagement party.

Don't judge her, Hugh. Please.

- Did she she say who the man was?
- No.

And this was a few weeks
after your brother's death?

Yes.

Major... when Leonard came to see you...

did you, by any chance,
talk to him about... sex?

He was an innocent.

I tried to explain to him about attraction.

What you would have meant
to me, in that regard.

I had to convey some
pretty basic stuff.

He wanted to know what he was missing.

I think he found out that night.

Do you mean he forced himself
on Lydia?

No! No, she would have cried
and begged him to stop.

He'd know he was doing wrong.

No, he... he understood shame.

The shame of it.

The next day, when he fell
from the rocks... Luke...

perhaps it that wasn't
the effect of the drink.

Do you think Leonard might have...

We don't believe it was
an accident, no.

And what happened about the abortion?

Ah, when I told Lydia that
Dr. Humbleby wouldn't help,

she never mentioned it again.

I assumed she had made
some other arrangement.

I wonder if she went to Florrie Gibbs,

who used to help people
with her Ancient Herbs.

That's why Amy took
"Nature's Poisons" from the Library,

when she suspected she was pregnant.

The terrible sin she spoke of
wasn't suicide.

It was abortion.

We're certain now that
Amy was murdered,

just as we're sure,
now, that Florrie Gibbs was,

and the reverend Minchin.

And your husband, Mrs. Humbleby.

And, of course, Lavinia Pinkerton,

who knew that murder is easy,
as long as no one thinks it's murder.

All these murders. Why?

To keep me from finding out
who I really am.

May I just ask, Honoria,
if you baked any more cakes?

More cake, Jane?

My mother's recipe.

I know a shop bought cake
when I taste it...

and, with your permission, Constable?
- Mm-hm.

And little lies make me wonder
if big ones will follow.

Amy wanted to dye her straw hat.

I had some old bottles of hat die
and she chose one.

Amy would never have chosen
"Scarlet Flame" as a colour.

It would clash with her red hair.

Would it?

You only took on Amy
as a favour to her grandmother.

Did you agree because Florrie
knew your secret?

What... what secret?

A secret almost too unbearable
to speak of.

Then don't.

Please. Please.

I'm afraid it must be told, somehow.

For your own sake too, Honoria.

I can't.

Well, let me help you.

It wasn't Lydia that your brother
forced himself on, that night, was it?

It wasn't Lydia who cried and
begged him to stop.

He was drunk.

He was too strong.

It hurt.

If I had reported it,
they would have put him away.

But if I didn't, I was afraid
he would have defiled me again.

So, next afternoon,
I let him go and play.

And followed him.

And pushed him off.

It was an act of mercy!

Then you found you were pregnant.

And you went to Dr. Humbleby with
that story about a friend in trouble.

He turned you away, so you asked
Florrie Gibbs for help.

One moment, Miss Marple.

Do you mean that Honoria killed Florrie?

Amy?

- All the others?
- Yes.

Why?

Because I was sniffing around.

I overheard you with the vicar.

A stranger, all the way from America,
stirring up memories.

I knew my sin must never
see the the light of day.

I picked
some mushrooms from the woods -

the poisonous kind -
and went to Florrie's cottage.

Her kitchen window was open,
and she was making a stew.

You knocked on the door.

When she went to answer it,
you went round the back,

leaned through window and reached
through to put the mushrooms in the stew.

Yes, and stirred them in.

And the vicar knew what Leonard
had done to me that night.

He'd found me praying the next
morning and I confided in him.

He promised never
to breathe a word,

but how could I be sure,
after all that time?

I'd made holes in his breathing mask,
when I was there for tea.

I came back and hung it up
before he was found.

But... why did you have to kill Edward?

He might have remembered me
asking about an abortion.

How did you manage to poison him?

Wonky Poo had a poorly ear.

Ah, this is rather unpleasant, Jessie.

So, I collected pus from the weeping
sore in a saucer,

made sure Edward cut his finger,

and sent him on his way
with a plaster.

And Lavinia was such a chatterbox.

She had to have an accident
of her own.

It's all very suspicious,
Mr. Wonky.

First Florrie. And then the vicar.

And Bumblebee not looking very well.

The sooner we tell
Scotland Yard, the better.

I thought I could stop then,

but Amy got herself into trouble
with Mr. Abbot.

Cheer up, Amy.
It might never happen.

She said she knew that years ago I'd
gone to her grandmother,

and unless I helped her
with the same foul mixture

that would destroy her unborn child,
as it had destroyed mine...

and comforted her as she sinned,
she would tell to whole Wychwood.

She didn't have the hat die
in her room that night, did she?

Only her medicine.

But you couldn't have helped Amy,
in any case, could you?

Because all those years ago,

your own maternal instinct
was too strong and you changed your mind.

I poured the horrid stuff down the drain.

And shut yourself away like
an hermit until your time came

I gave birth all alone.

What happened to the baby?

Please.

I placed you in God's tender hands.

But God gave you back to me.

When did you know?

Sometimes I looked at you
and wondered.

It scarcely seemed possible.

Then Lydia said she recognised
your birthmark

and that you were a mystery baby
she had found

caught in the reeds by Hexley Hall.

- And I knew for certain.
- Lydia found me.

Why didn't she take me to the police?

She couldn't risk it being known she'd,
er, had been there,

waiting for her young gardener
and a last starry night

of illicit passion before she married Hugh.

She gave you to the Leary's,
childless and bare as they were,

who took you back to America.

And when the major told you Lydia
had decided to do the right thing

and you realised she was going to tell
Bridget all she knew...

Once you found you were born here,

you'd never stop asking questions
until you found the truth.

You're such a bright girl.

So, you slipped away during the service
and went to kill Lydia.

Please. Please...

You witch.

No.

I gave you life. And, oh, it was swell
for you, Uptown.

Sure.

Please.

Please...

Come along, Miss Waynflete.

Please.

Goodbye, my dear.

So long, Luke.

- I'll see you.
- When?

Look in your pocket.

"Soon".