All language subtitles for A Murder Is Announced-Part 2

You didn't tell me
everything, did you, Myrna?

About Rudi Scherz.

Yeah, I told you everything.

I told you

nearly everything.

Tell me the rest.

My mum said that I'd be an,

an accessory before the fact.

Do you know what that means?

It sounded horrible.

I'm sure your mother's wrong.

What happened?

Well,

the night Rudi died

we were supposed
to be going to the pictures

and then he said
he wouldn't be able to come.

And I got cross 'cause
I'd just had my hair done.

And I told him I didn't fancy
being stood up by a foreigner

and he got mad at that

and showed me that
advertisement in the paper.

The one that said,
"A murder is announced"?

He said it was a silly English joke.

He was always going on
about silly English Jokes.

What exactly did he say
he was going to do?

He told me he was going
stage a sham hold-up.

Pretend he was a gangster
and scare all the people.

Why was he doing this?

'Cause somebody was paying him.

He said he'd be well into pocket

and he was going to buy me

a watch.

Somebody paid him to put the
advertisement in the local paper,

and do the hold-up?

- Yeah.
- Who?

He never said.

You're sure about that?

Sure. Honest,
I mean I'd tell you if I knew.

Now that I know
it don't make me an accessory.

Did you know he had a gun?

I wouldn't go out with a bloke
if I thought he had a gun.

And anyway, I don't believe
he ever had a gun.

He told me it was
just a silly English joke

and that he was gonna enjoy laughing
at their silly English faces.

It stands to reason,
he wouldn't have done it

if he'd thought he was going
to get shot himself, would he?

It will be very funny, he said.

Some joke.

Inspector Craddock.

Have you had any success with Myrna?

You were quite right,
Miss Marple.

She hadn't told me the full story.

No, no, I though not, no.

As you suggested,

somebody paid Rudi Scherz

to place the advertisement
and stage the hold-up.

And had no indications to who it was?

None at all.

Inspector, I shall be staying
in Chipping Cleghorn

for the next few days.

I don't suppose
there's anything I can do

but I shall in fact be at the vicarage.

In case you should want me.

The vicarage?

Mrs. Harmon, the vicar's wife,
is a distant niece.

So I took the liberty
of inviting myself.

So, I may perhaps see you again
in Chipping Cleghorn.

I daresay.

Guess what?

Um...

They want me
to be Archbishop of Canterbury?

Very close.

Aunt Jane's coming to stay.

- Even better.
- I knew you'd be pleased.

Aunt Jane is coming to stay?

I seem to remember telling
you so a minute ago.

A man dies in
highly suspicious circumstances,

here in Chipping Cleghorn and suddenly
Aunt Jane is coming to stay?

Yes, I noticed that too.

So, whoever paid Rudi Scherz
to play these silly games,

is it the same person
who tried to shoot Miss Blacklock?

It's possible.

He or she could have crept up
behind Scherz in the dark

fired the shots, then dropped the gun.

He or she?

We have to keep an open mind.

You mean that refugee woman
who works up at the house?

She's a bit hysterical.

No, I don't mean the maid.

I mean we have to keep an open mind.

It seems obvious that Scherz
wasn't the murdering kind.

And there's no evidence
the gun belonged to him.

It was a German automatic.

Yeah and since the war,

the whole country's awash
with German guns.

Anybody who was in the services

might have brought
it home as a souvenir.

Laura, my dear!

I can't find my pistol.

Well, you don't need it today, do you?

That isn't the point.

You mean you really can't find it.

I thought that's what I said.

My goodness!

It should be in here.

When did you see it last?

God knows. Months ago.

Well I remember clearly,
I saw it on Saturday.

On Saturday? Are you sure?

Absolutely certain.

You were grumbling about
your collars and the laundry.

Come, come, my dear,

I never grumble.

You were grumbling

and I looked in this drawer
and the gun was there.

It was the day after that
business at Little Paddocks.

And I remember thinking, well at least
it wasn't your gun he used.

Unless he took it, and did the job,

replaced it.

And then stole it again?

Rather tricky, as the young man's dead.

Well spotted, my dear.

Still we needn't
bother the police about it.

It's just an old war souvenir.

No bullets. No license, come to that.

Mum's the word.

You're my old war souvenir.

I got a couple of letters I must write.

To begin with,
the story Rudi Scherz told you

when he visited the house
was a pack of lies.

He wasn't the son of the proprietor
of the Hotel des Alpes in Montreux.

Which explains
why I didn't recognize him.

Well who was he?

He'd had various jobs.

A hospital orderly in Berne,
a waiter, a shop assistant.

Wherever he went,
things tended to disappear.

A picker up of unconsidered trifles?

Exactly. The Swiss police were
becoming a little tired of him,

so he armed himself with forged papers
and came to England.

Another displaced person
with a good cover story.

Yes, but why pick on me?

Yes, why should he want
to murder Letty?

He didn't want to murder you,
Miss Blacklock.

It looked as if he did.
He burst in here with a gun and I...

- I'm sure.
- He was paid to do that.

- Paid?
- Yes.

Somebody else wanted
to have me murdered?

Is that what you're suggesting?

That is what the evidence suggests.

Nobody could possibly
want to murder Letty.

It's ludicrous.

Please understand, Inspector,
I have no hidden Rembrandts,

no enemies that I am aware of

and no guilty secrets about myself

or anyone else for that matter.

I would like to speak
to your maid, is she at home?

Hannah's in the kitchen.

Because she's a foreigner,
she's an automatic suspect, is that it?

No, that is not it.

She works hard and her papers
and her permit are in perfect order.

The same applied to Rudi Scherz.

The late Rudi Scherz.

I'm beginning to lose patience
with Inspector Craddock.

He'd only trying to protect you, Letty.

Protect me? I'm perfectly
capable of protecting myself.

- But don't you see?
- See what?

If somebody paid
that young man to kill you,

and it didn't work,

then whoever it is, well,

he's likely to try again.

Yes, I'm sorry.

I'm being a bit slow
in the uptake, aren't I?

It's natural.
You've had a difficult time.

Apart from that,

I think you should
tell Mr. Craddock everything.

What does it matter what I say?

I am just a refugee.

If I say the wrong thing,
you can always send me home.

Unless you send me to prison.

Besides, you shouldn't be talking to me.

You should be talking
to that nice English lady.

- Which nice English lady?
- Mrs. Haymes.

Why should I be speaking
to Mrs. Haymes?

The young man,

he comes to the house and
asks Miss Blacklock for money.

You know about that?

Miss Blacklock told me.

I watch him go.

He stops and talks to Mrs. Haymes
in the summerhouse.

And what do you suppose
they were talking about?

I don't know.

How to steal Miss Blacklock's
money, I expect.

Miss Blacklock isn't a rich woman.

She's richer than me.

She's richer, too, than Mrs. Haymes.

Mrs. Haymes is a fine lady
who loses her husband

and no longer has any money.

She sends her son to school
and has to work as a gardener.

That is not a proper job
for a fine English lady.

Will you excuse me please?

I need the kitchen to myself.

I have to make a very careful sauce.

Wrong door, Inspector.
That one doesn't open.

It's from when there were two rooms.

We used to have
the hall table against it.

When was the table moved?

A couple of weeks ago.

Something to do with flowers.

Phillipa, Mrs. Haymes did a big vase.

All twigs and branches and
people getting their hair tangled up.

So we moved the table.

- Is it nailed up?
- No, just locked.

Do you have the key?

Yes, in here I think.

Yes, here.

There, careful!

There might be something
resting against the inside!

This door's been opened quite
recently, Miss Bunner.

The hinges and the lock
have both be oiled.

Good gracious.

- Which means...
- You'd like to wash your hands?

Which means?

When Scherz came in this door
and did his party piece

anybody could have slipped out
through the other door,

stood behind him and fired
the shots at you, Miss Blacklock.

Are you suggesting,
that one of my neighbors,

one of my nice commonplace neighbors,

slipped through that door
and tried to murder me?

Who is your main suspect, Inspector?

The vicar's wife?

We have to be very direct
about this, Miss Blacklock.

If you die, who benefits?

Patrick and Julia. And,

Bunny here gets a small legacy
and all the furniture in the house.

I didn't know that.

Thank you, Letty.

It's hardly the sort of
thing one talks about as a rule.

But I still think you should
tell the Inspector.

Yes, Bunny, I know what you
think, and I am going to tell him!

Now, I think we should both like
a cup of tea if you'd be so kind.

I'm sorry.
I'll see to it.

What is Miss Bunner
anxious for you to tell me?

I not worth murdering now, Inspector.

But in a few weeks' time I might be.

Why?

Because I shall be a very rich woman.

Please sit down.

Does the name Randall Goedler
mean anything to you?

No, perhaps
you're a little too young.

He was a financier,
died just before the war?

Yes, 1938.

Well, until his death,
I was his personal secretary.

Well, more a junior partner really.

When he died,

he left all his money
in trust for his wife, Belle.

But if she dies before me, I inherit...

A great deal of money.

Randall Goedler was a millionaire,

so, yes, a great deal of money.

You said you might
very soon be a rich woman.

Is Mrs. Goedler likely to die?

Yes.

That may sound callous Inspector,
but you asked the question

and that's a truthful answer.

Belle Goedler is
a very sweet creature and an invalid.

We exchange cards and letters
at Christmas time

and her nurse keeps me
informed of her medical condition.

I gather it may now be
only a matter of weeks.

- Where does Mrs. Goedler live?
- In Scotland.

Perhaps you'll let me have
the address before I leave.

Yes.

Going back three spaces,

Patrick and Julia are the beneficiaries
in the event of your death.

- Yes.
- But if you die before Mrs. Goedler?

What happens then?

Belle and Randall had no children.

So when he made his will,

he nominated the offspring
of his sister, Sonia.

And who are they?

Please don't laugh, Inspector,

but I only know them as Pip and Emma.

- Pip and Emma?
- Yes.

- Who and where are they?
- Nobody knows.

Goedler's sister, Sonia

married some smooth-talking,
Greek called Stamfordis.

More or less a crook.

And they lost contact
with the Goedlers,

except it's known that they had two
children, born in the early 1920's.

- So they'd now be...
- 25, 26.

The same age as Patrick and Julia?

- Yes.
- Is that possible?

Miss Blacklock's never seen them.

Mrs. Goedler's never seen them.
So yes, it's possible.

As I say, you have
a lot of checking to do.

- Where are we going?
- Back to H.Q.

No, we're not.

I want to speak to Mrs. Haymes.

See what she was doing
in the summerhouse.

I'm happy to verify a statement
if it means I can stand up straight.

The dead man, Rudi Scherz,
you told me he was a stranger to you.

Yes.

Did you at any time
have a conversation with him

in the summerhouse at Little Paddocks?

In the summerhouse?

It's absurd.

Who told you that?

A statement was made to me
that you were seen speaking to him.

I expect it was Hannah.

She tells lies.

I've never met Rudi Scherz in my life.

And I couldn't have seen him.

I'm here every day.

Thank you, Mrs. Haymes.

Good morning, Colonel!

Good morning, Inspector.

You're up bright and early.

Habit of a lifetime. Up with the lark.
Check the defensive perimeter.

I'm told you have a German pistol.

Yes. Unofficially, of course.
Souvenir of victory and all that.

May I see it? Officially?

Well, the fact of the matter is,
Inspector, the damn thing's disappeared.

I see. When?

All I can tell you is that my wife
saw it in my drawer last Saturday.

You mean,
it disappeared after the killing?

Well, according to my good lady, yes.

I see.

Well, I'll leave you to check
your defensive perimeters.

You know,
the English village has changed

since before the war.

That's really because the whole world
has changed.

A village like Chipping Cleghorn,
for example,

it may look the same,
simple and peaceful and eternal,

but it isn't.

You see, in the old days,
everyone knew each other.

And if someone new came to the village,

then they brought
letters of introduction.

They'd either been in the same regiment,
or the same ship,

or the same colony as someone
already living in the village, you see.

And that no longer applies?

Gone forever, I suspect.

Well, the big houses are sold,
the cottages converted,

and people simply come in from anywhere.

From India, Hong Kong, or Italy,

and made a little money
and are able to retire.

No letters of introduction, no roots.

You have to believe their stories
and take them at their face value.

Plus their ration books
and identity cards.

Can you really believe
in a ration book and identity card?

Horrible things. Inhuman.

So, Pip and Emma
could be Patrick and Julia?

Quite easily, I imagine,
but I think they sound rather fun,

and not at all the homicidal type.

But I'll try and find out.

You will be careful, won't you?

Of course.

A policeman asking questions
is open to the gravest suspicion.

But an old lady asking questions
is just an old lady asking questions.

Who's the old biddy?

Mrs. Harmon's aunt.

I could go to my room
and pretend to work.

Well, Mrs. Harmon's quite fun.

Pick of the village idiots, really.

Shall I be charming
and terribly amusing?

No. Not a good idea.

It must have seemed
quite dreadful to you,

like Chicago come to Chipping Cleghorn.

I was scared stiff.

Well, it was rather
an alarming experience.

But it must have seemed
quite providential

when the young man tripped himself up
and shot himself.

Of course, burglary is so violent
nowadays.

There used to be a certain grace
and decorum about it, but...

I blame the war, Miss Marple, don't you?

- And the Viennese waltz.
- Absolutely.

Yes. And was that the door
that he came in at?

- Yes.
- The very one.

And I'm told there were bullet holes.

Right over here, Miss Marple.

I've never seen a real bullet hole.
May I?

Yes, of course, please.

It's a miracle
Lotty wasn't killed.

Good gracious!

But you were jolly severely wounded,
weren't you?

Are you fully recovered now,
Miss Blacklock?

Yes, of course. It was only a scratch.

I only wear this plaster to get sympathy
from my nearest and dearest.

It doesn't work

unfortunately.

So you were over here when it happened?

I'd just gone for the cigarette box,
and then the lights went out.

What a delightful lamp!

- Dresden. It's one of a pair.
- Really?

The other's in the spare room.

Really? I'd forgotten about that.

I like nice things. Don't you?

Yes, indeed. Yes, very much.

I'm afraid I can't work up
any enthusiasm for possessions.

Do you like nice things?

I prefer naughty things.

Julia!

I have very few possessions,
all of them precious.

And each one, a cherished memory.

And as for photographs,

people don't seem to keep photographs
nowadays, do they?

I do. Have hundreds.

All my nieces and nephews
when they were babies and children,

and grown up and parents.

You've got a horrible one of me
with a squint and a fox terrier.

And despite all your aunt says,

I'm sure she's got hundreds
of photographs of you all tucked away.

We're only distant cousins.

To tell you the truth, Miss Marple,

I didn't remember these two existed
until earlier this year.

I had a letter from their mother

saying they were going to be studying
in this area.

And when did you last see my mama?

About 30 years ago.

I remember she was very pretty.

And luckily we've both inherited
her good looks.

Not only that.
You're quite right, Miss Marple.

Aunt Letty has a marvelous
old photograph album.

We looked through it the other day.

But I'm not obsessive about the past.

Well, I, of course,
have more past than future.

Don't be silly, Aunt Jane!

My dear, you've married a vicar.

You must know we're allocated
three score years and 10.

And I shall soon be overdrawn.

- You did it on purpose, didn't you?
- What, my dear?

Talked about photographs.

Well, I now know
that Miss Blacklock had never seen

Patrick and Julia in the flesh
until they turned up on her doorstep.

- And rang the bell?
- Exactly.

Tomorrow, I shall explore your village.

It's quite small. It won't take long.

There are more things
in Chipping Cleghorn, Horatio,

than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

I daresay.

Horatio? I thought he had a bridge.

- Morning, Phillipa.
- Hello.

What are you doing?

Can't you see?

Well, I'm no gardener.

And you seem to be poking around
aimlessly in the soil.

I'm pricking out winter lettuce.

And, um, exquisitely, too.

Please go away, Edmund.
You've no business to be here.

Wrong! I have business.
Mrs. Lucas rang my mama this morning,

very anxious to trade one of her surplus
vegetable marrows for, um,

a pot of honey.

Yes, we're swamped
with vegetable marrows.

So, I have my alibi.

Using the word loosely and incorrectly.

- There's no question of dalliance.
- Good.

"Faultily faultless, icily regular,
splendidly null."

- I beg your pardon?
- It's Tennyson writing about Maud.

But it's really about you, Phillipa.
Splendidly null.

- It isn't much of a compliment.
- Well, it isn't meant to be.

It's meant to stir you into speaking.
What are you like? What do you feel?

- That's my business.
- It's mine, too.

Can't you see I'm smitten?

I didn't want to fall in love with you.

I just wanted to worry about
the working classes,

and write my book
about the world's misery.

And then you came along,

and you won't even talk to me.

- I'm talking to you now.
- Not really talking.

Tell me about anything.
Tell me about your husband if you like.

We met, we got married.

Harry was born.

Ronald was killed in Italy.

Harry's a nice kid, I like him.

I think he likes me, too.

Let's get married, Phillipa.

You can go on gardening,
and I can go on writing my tripey book.

And we can sponge off Mother.

My eyesight is defective,

but I'm very sincere.

No. I don't think so.

Very well, in that case,

you'd better lead me
to that vegetable marrow.

Sergeant Fletcher!
Are you keeping an eye on us?

Inspector Craddock's orders,
Miss Blacklock.

Well, we're just going down
to the village.

It's Hannah's day out
so there's nobody in.

- I see.
- So, if you could...

- Keep an eye on the house?
- Yes, please.

The sergeant could make himself
a cup of tea.

Yes, of course, Sergeant, please do.

The door's open. We never lock doors.
Come along, Bunny. We'll be late.

You startled me, Sergeant!
I thought you were another burglar.

No, Mrs. Swettenham. It's only me.

You came through the back door?

Yes, it's always open.
I just brought up some of my quinces.

Perhaps you'd tell Miss Blacklock
when she comes back?

I'll leave them here.

It seems anybody can walk
into this house just as they like.

Of course.

How else could we leave quinces
on the kitchen table?

Murgatroyd?

Yes, Hinch?

I've been doing a bit of thinking.

What about?

Well, that pantomime the other night.

It's all too fishy.

Now, take this revolver.

- Well, that's a trowel.
- I know it's a trowel!

We don't stock revolvers, do we?

- I suppose not.
- And this torch.

Now, go outside, come back in,

wave the torch around and the revolver
like he did,

and say, "Stick 'em up."

Why?

Because what happened the other night
was fishy,

and I want to find out
what made it fishy.

I'll try.

Stick 'em up!

The door won't stay open!

Exactly. That's the fishy bit.

The door at Little Paddocks
is just the same.

Letty Blacklock brought that huge
glass doorstop from Elliot's, remember?

Well, perhaps the burglar used
the doorstop to keep it open.

That's a non-starter, Murgatroyd.

You fling the door open,
you shout, "Reach for the sky,"

and then you say, "Excuse me a moment
while I adjust the doorstop"?

It's all so awkward.

Give me that revolver.

You'd have shot yourself by now.

Well, he did shoot himself, didn't he?

Somebody must have held the door
open for him.

I'm not at all sure
he did shoot himself.

You mean,

somebody else shot him?

That's the only alternative
to shooting oneself, in my experience.

You've had experience?

Of crimes of violence? Lots!

Two-gun Hinchcliffe,
the terror of Kidderminster.

I don't believe you.

Neither do I.

But if it wasn't one of us
who killed that boy,

it was somebody very like us.

Miss Marple!

Do sit here.

How kind. Thank you so much.

- I'm on my own.
- Dear.

Such a sharp wind.

My rheumatics, you know.

I had sciatica last year.
I was in agony.

Dear, yes.
Now then, coffee and cakes?

- Yes, please.
- For two. Thank you.

You know, I don't think the cakes here
look so delicious

as the ones I had in your house.

- Hannah made those.
- Hannah?

Our cook. She's very good.

Some sort of a foreigner.
Swiss, I think.

It's a pity she screams so much.

Well, it's a sign of life.

And what about the other person
who I didn't see?

- The young woman who lives with you?
- Phillipa?

We call her our lodger.

I suppose she is in a way.

- Who? Phillipa?
- Haymes.

Haymes. Yes, really.

Yes, I knew a Colonel Haymes
in the Indian cavalry.

- Her father, perhaps?
- She's Mrs. Haymes. A widow.

Her husband was killed in
Sicily or Italy.

How sad.

Here we are.

Now then,
would you like me to pour out?

Yes, please.

Coffee.

They're terribly pink, aren't they?

Well, probably an artificial substitute
for flavor.

Thank you.

And, has she many admirers?

That waitress? I doubt it.
Much too surly.

Yes. No. Mrs. Haymes.

Well,

Young Edmund Swettenham
moons around her a bit.

He's a very odd young man.
Writes books, and I...

I have heard that he's a...

A communist.

Really? Yes, well, he must be
rather lonely in Chipping Cleghorn.

I'm told they can grow out of it.
Do you believe that?

Yes, yes.
I should think that's quite likely, yes.

Good.

And,

have you known Miss Blacklock long?

We were at school together.

Then, we lost touch for years.

She was secretary to this millionaire,
Goedler, and...

Tell me I didn't do wrong, Miss Marple.

I'm afraid I don't know
what you're talking about, Miss Bunner.

I was living on my own,
just with my pension.

Well, in a bedsitter, and I...

I saw Letty's name
in the local newspaper.

She was at a charity luncheon
in aid of the Milchester Hospital.

And I wrote to her.

Not a begging letter. It wasn't that.

No, no, of course not.

No, you wrote a friendly letter
to an old school chum and you met.

She was lonely and you were lonely.

And she asked you to move in with her,
that's all.

You do understand.

I understand everything
about lonely old ladies.

I can tell. You're very comfortable
to talk to, Miss Marple.

You see, I get so angry when I see
people taking advantage of Letty.

And I do hope that I'm not like that.

She's left me all the household goods
and an annuity,

but that's her decision.

I... I haven't taken
advantage of her. Truly.

No, no. I'm quite sure you haven't.

No.

And do other people take advantage?

Young

Patrick.

He's had money from her, twice,
at least, to my certain knowledge.

And all Letty will say is,
"The boy's young.

"Youth must have its fling."

Yes, that's true, you know.

And, of course, he is handsome,
and, er...

A trifle insolent, I agree,
but on the other hand...

I saw him with an oilcan in the garden.

Really?

And the other door to the drawing room
has been oiled.

And I heard him having an argument
with Julia the other day.

But that's human nature, isn't it,
arguments between brothers and sisters?

Shepherds and shepherdesses.

I beg your pardon?

The lamp on the table.

I noticed that it was the shepherdess

and not the shepherd.

Coffee and gossip, Bunny?

Good morning, Miss Marple.

Good morning. Won't you join us?

Thank you very much,
but we are rather late.

Have you done your shopping, Bunny?

I must call at the chemist. I...

I need some aspirin and corn-plasters.

Please can I pay?

No, you certainly won't.

- Thank you.
- Come along, Bunny. That's it.

- Goodbye, Miss Marple.
- Goodbye.

- Excuse me.
- Come along, Bunny.

Goodbye, Miss Bunner. Goodbye.

She's terribly sweet, Miss Marple.
Such a good listener.

I don't suppose you gave her
much choice, Bunny dear.

- No, not that one.
- No?

No, no, I tried one of those.
They taste of salmon.

I think I'lljust have the coffee.

Very wise.

So, what were you talking about?

Family loyalty.

I hope it wasn't as tedious
as it sounds.

No. On the contrary, very revealing.

You see, nearly everyone assumes
that people murder out of hatred,

but, of course, it may be
out of loyalty. Or even love.

Love?

Now, tell me again
who was in the room that night.

Miss Blacklock, Rudi Scherz.

And devoted Dora, and handsome Patrick.

Mrs. Swettenham of the honeypots,
and her serious son Edmund, yes.

Um, the pukka sahib Colonel Easterbrook,
and the fluffy Mrs. Easterbrook.

Not forgetting the cool and distant
Phillipa Haymes.

And?

- Am I forgetting somebody?
- Yes.

- Julia!
- That's right. Julia, yes.

Julia. PrettyJulia is peculiar.

Three and six,
and I'm not a peculiar, Mrs. Harmon.

I've always been a good C of E.

I'm so sorry,
I was just quoting an old song.

I didn't know your name was Julia.

No offense, I'm sure.

There. Thank you very much.

Thank you very much, Mrs. Marple.

Well, yes...
Now, do we believe in Pip and Emma?

Miss Blacklock says they exist,
so we have to.

Even though she's never seen them,
and doesn't know what they look like?

But they are the only people to benefit
from Miss Blacklock's death.

Well, not necessarily.
Either of them might have married.

Their mother and father might be alive.

You see, they'd all be
interested parties.

So, the police should be looking
for a murderer who...

Who is either male or female,
in the middle 20s

or someone nearly as old as I am.

You also said
somebody who would murder out of love.

Yes,
but a very special kind of love.

A deep and abiding passion
for large sums of money.

- Except...
- What?

That waitress thought you were talking
about her.

It's just a simple mistake.

Yes.

Mrs. Goedler's
very much looking forward

to your visit, Inspector.

Is she really? That makes a change.

Well, she has very few visitors
for obvious reasons.

There's, one question I have to ask.

I can guess what it is.

- Well?
- She's a dying woman.

She's surviving on drugs,
and on her willpower,

but it can't last
for more than a few weeks.

And our dear Miss Blacklock was not hurt
by the attempt on her life?

A grazed ear.

Poor Blackie.

You know about her family background?

No.

Is it important to your investigation?

I have no idea.

Well, let me ramble on,
and stop me if it becomes boring.

- Agreed?
- Agreed.

Two sisters. The father,
an old country doctor and a tyrant.

Letty rebelled, ran away to London,

made herself
into a chartered accountant.

The other sister, Charlotte,
was an invalid.

Now, when the old man died,

Blackie left the firm
to go and look after her sister.

Randall was furious with her,
shouted at her, but she was determined.

And she took her sister to Switzerland.

Tell me about your husband's sister.

Sonia?

She was wild. I was fond of her.

But we've lost touch.

She married this chap, Stamfordis,
a genuine crook, I've no doubt.

You'd have enjoyed locking him up.

Randall disapproved of the marriage,
but Sonia took no notice.

We got a letter
about 18 months after the wedding

to say she'd had twins
just after midday,

so she intended to call them
Pip and Emma.

We forgot about them. A terrible thing
to say about one's relatives.

But Mr. Goedler left his estate
to the children,

in the event of Miss Blacklock
predeceasing you?

The lawyers pestered him.

He told them that
Blackie was strong as a horse

and I was delicate, but they insisted.

Lawyers do.

They're so serious about life and death,
things like that.

But you have no idea where they may be?

Your sister-in-law,
her husband or their children.

They may be dead. They may be anywhere.

They may be in Chipping Cleghorn.

Indeed, they may.

Don't let them hurt Blackie.

She's too good to lose.

Er, sardine sandwiches and tomato,

and some of those little scones
you do so nicely.

And I want you to make
your special cake.

My cake?

Is it a party, you want such things?

It's Miss Bunner's birthday
and some people are coming to tea.

Birthdays! Parties!

At her age, it's better to forget.

She doesn't want to forget.
She wants a cake.

I want her to have a cake.

I have nothing to make such a cake.

I need butter, sugar,
chocolate, raisins.

Butter, sugar, chocolate, raisins.

Where do you get such things?

None of your business, Hannah.

Very well. I shall make such a cake.
With icing.

And on the top and I will write,
"Good wishes."

Thank you, Hannah.

I will show your English friends
what such a cake should taste like.

English cakes taste like sand.

My cake will taste like heaven.

I'm sure it will.

And you must tell Mr. Patrick
not to call it names.

I'm sure he wouldn't dream
of calling it names.

My last cake,
he calls it delicious death.

But that's a compliment.

Death is a compliment?

♫ Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you

♫ Happy birthday, dear Bunny
♫ Happy birthday, dear Dora

♫ Happy birthday to you ♫

Delicious death!

Hannah doesn't like you
talking about her cake like that.

She disapproves of everything I do.

- Well, it looks a lovely cake.
- Yes.

Foreigners, they make damn good cakes.

Mind you, it's plain boiled pudding
that stumps them.

Got a new gardener, Miss Blacklock?
Saw a chap snooping around the henhouse.

No, that's our own special detective.

Detective? Why?

To protect Letty.

But isn't that all over now?

They adjourned the inquest.

Police not satisfied. It's obvious.

They never are.

As I see it, we're all under suspicion.

Suspicion of what?

Here and now,
I'd say loitering with intent.

That sounds quite amusing.
What sort of intent?

Intent to commit murder
upon the first opportunity.

Please don't, Mr. Swettenham!
It's so awful.

- Now, Bunny.
- I'm sure nobody would want

to murder poor Letty.

- Don't distress yourself.
- Come on, Bunny.

It's usually me who spoils the party
with a bad joke.

Good day, Mrs. Swettenham,
Mr. Swettenham.

Mrs. Easterbrook, Colonel.

Afternoon. Good day, Miss Murgatroyd,
Miss Hinchcliffe.

Sergeant Fletcher, we thought
you might like a piece of Hannah's cake.

Thank you, that's very kind.

All the suspects have gone home now.
Are you under orders to stay?

Another 10 minutes,
then I hand over to the local bobby.

We do sleep sounder
for the police presence.

Good.

- Did you enjoy your party?
- I did.

But I've got a dreadful headache.

Too much excitement.

Too much cake.

And those lovely chocolates,

where did you find them?

It's easy,
if you don't mind breaking the law.

I...
I think I'll take a couple of aspirin

and lie down for a while.

Shall I shut up the ducks, Aunt Letty?

Well, if you can do it properly.

There's absolutely no guarantee,
but I promise to try my hardest.

All you have to do is make sure
that the latch is down firmly.

I knew there was a secret.

Don't worry, Aunt Letty.
I'll make sure it's all right.

I seem to have mislaid the aspirin
I bought in the village.

This house is chock-full of aspirin.
They fall out of every cupboard.

There's a bottle on my dressing table.

Take mine, Bunny dear,
they're by my bed.

Thank you, Letty.

Ducks.

All you have to do

- is see that the latch
Is see the latch

- is down firmly, Julia.
- Is down firmly, Patrick.

Imagine you were Pip and Emma.
What would you do?

- I come to England penniless.
- Yes.

Then, assuming I'm
of criminal mentality,

I seek out any rich relations
I might have.

I know my uncle, Randall Goedler,
left a vast fortune,

so I inquire about his widow,
discover she's still alive,

and that the only obstacle
between me and the money

is Miss Letitia Blacklock
of Chipping Cleghorn.

- Therefore...
- Murder Miss Blacklock.

Have we checked about Patrick and Julia?

Yes. They are precisely
what they claim to be.

Patrick has rather a good war record.

- Fletcher's been busy, too.
- So I see.

- Wee dram?
- Please.

I waited hopefully
for somebody to offer,

but Scotland appears to be totally dry.

Helps the concentration.

Bunny?

Phillipa! Phillipa!

Yes.

Yes, I see.

Don't go. There's been another one.

Yes.

Dora Bunner.

But that's most unfair.

The village policeman's on duty.
He called the doctor.

There's to be an autopsy, but...

Well, it looks like narcotic poisoning.

But she's a complete innocent.

Is it the fate of the innocent
to suffer?

Very often, it is, yes.

In spite of her innocence?

Or because of her innocence?