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BUS BEEPS HORN

Announcing the departure of the 4.33 to Brackhampton from Platform 4,

stopping at all stations to Brackhampton.

What are you saying to me, young man?

THAT'S the fast train, the 4.33.

Yes, Madam, but it doesn't go as far as Milchester.

Where do you want?

Milchester for St Mary Mead. You want the 4.50 to Milchester.

You'll overtake that one before you get to Brackhampton.

Unless you want to wait there for the 5.50.

Thank you, young man(!)

The 4.33 stopping at all stations to Brackhampton

is about to depart from Platform 4.

Oh...hello.

The 4.50 to Dilmouth stopping at Brackhampton, Milchester and Roxeter

will leave from Platform 5.

The 4.50 to Dilmouth - Platform 5.

BACKGROUND MUSIC: "Second Piano Concerto" by Rachmaninov

CAR DOOR CLOSES

CLOCK CHIMES

KNOCK AT DOOR

It's all right, Mary. I'll go. I think it must be Mrs McGillicuddy at last.

Yes, Miss Marple, ma'am.

Elspeth, my dear, there you are!

My dear...! What is it?

Jane... Oh, Jane, I've just seen a woman killed!

They didn't believe a word I said at the railway station.

And the constable I found, WHEN I found him,

seemed to think I had bats in the belfry.

My, I was cross. But he looked about 12 years old.

And I don't like being cross with other people's children.

You DO believe me, Jane?

Of course I believe you, Elspeth.

Thank you, Inch.

Yes. Yes.

Yes, ladies?

Could I speak to Detective Inspector Slack?

Yes...

- Old Ramage will give him five years. - Good morning, Inspector.

I've come to report a murder.

This time the old cockroach has definitely blown a head-gasket.

Hasn't she?

I dare say.

Our blokes have been over that train with a tooth-comb.

They searched the track from Brackhampton to Haleford.

All hospitals, missing persons.

Two days - nothing. No body, no murder.

But OF COURSE you must go on searching, Inspector.

You might say that Mrs McGillicuddy is not a sophisticated person,

but she has both feet on the ground. She saw what she saw.

Full enquiries have been instituted

on the basis of the defective information you furnished

because you are respected in the County.

That's all we can do.

But Inspector...

May I remind you that there is an offence called Wasting Police Time?

I can see how irritating it must be for you so I'll ignore that remark.

After all, we may both be involved in this at a later date,

when ONE of us is clever enough to find the body.

Good morning, Miss Marple!

Will you help me with this, Mrs Brogan?

I will do my best.

- Oh... Amy Kidder! - Yes?

Does she still work for the Crackenthorpes?

Yes.

Most interesting. Yes.

- Yes? - Yes. Now then.

These little pictures - do you know a cutting from an embankment?

Ah.

Now, where would that be?

Well, just here, the edge of Rutherford Hall Park.

TRAIN WHISTLES

Let me see, five minutes to Brackhampton.

Now, it's near here.

There! See? That's the only place it could have fallen clear.

- What's that place, Jane? - Rutherford Hall.

Not one of our old families, Victorian millionaires.

Remember "Crackenthorpe's Fancies"? Silly name for biscuits.

I do. I had no taste for them myself.

I don't believe I ever tried one.

Do they still live there?

- Pardon? - The Crackenthorpes.

The son, Luther Crackenthorpe, lives there.

A bit valetudinarian. His daughter looks after him.

But how one... Well, it's impossible...

One can hardly... Well, it wouldn't do, would it?

If the body was flung off the train at the place we think it was,

we could hardly knock at the door and ask to look for it, could we?

No.

No, I can see what you mean.

Jane?

Golf! Of course, golf balls.

Lucy!

Lucy Eyelesbarrow!

Lucy looked after me when I was recovering from pneumonia.

I couldn't afford her myself. Dear Raymond engaged her for me.

All the best people have heard of her nowadays.

Lucy!

Lucy, I want you to find a body.

I would have put you off, Miss Marple.

My holidays are sacrosanct, but this sounds fascinating.

One young woman has been murdered already.

I can look after myself. Do they need someone at the moment?

My dear, they ALWAYS need someone.

Mr Crackenthorpe is very difficult. Staff don't stay.

His daughter is always on the look-out for someone.

The Crackenthorpes are registered with the Brackhampton Bureau.

Amy Kidder, their cook-housekeeper, lives near St Mary Mead.

Mrs Kidder is not very efficient and she knows it.

That's why she puts up with it.

But...

I know what you're going to say.

Why should anyone like you want to work there?

I have an idea about that.

Ah.

Elspeth!

Elspeth, Lucy has the job.

Oh, good! Excellent.

It seems like a bad dream now, as if it happened to somebody else.

It did happen. Pity you have to go back to Scotland.

- Should I stay? - Oh, yes, you must go.

If anything happens I'll make sure you're told.

When does Lucy start?

Oh, today.

Oh, Elspeth, you know, we're getting old.

Thank heavens for Lucy Eyelesbarrow!

She's a very interesting girl,

from a formidably intellectual family.

ALL her brothers and sisters are Oxford Fellows and Doctors of this and that.

Lucy became a housekeeper, a very exclusive freelance housekeeper.

She's better off than any of them.

Wives can say to their husbands,

"Darling, I can go to America with you.

I have Lucy Eyelesbarrow."

Miss Eylesbarrow?

Hello.

I'm Emma Crackenthorpe. Welcome to Rutherford Hall.

I DO hope you had a good journey.

Will this do?

It's absolutely charming. Thank you for the flowers.

I like these paintings.

Oh, they're my brother's. I mean, he painted them.

Really?

He's gone abstract now, like most of them.

- Is the room all right? - Lovely.

I wouldn't have dreamt of putting you on the top floor.

But I didn't know what you were used to.

MAN SHOUTS: Emma! Come here, girl!

That's my father.

Would you mind meeting him?

This is the new girl, is it?

Come over here. Let me see you.

How do you do, Mr Crackenthorpe?

We've heard you were expensive. What's my daughter paying you?

Father!

I wanted to be near my aunt who isn't very well.

So I accepted your terms.

We're not a charity. You'll have to work.

Father, please don't!

I'm expensive because I'm not afraid of work.

Oh, I'm glad to hear it.

Just because we live in a big house, doesn't mean that we're rich.

We live here because my father built it. Understood?

Yes.

And no high-faluting ideas.

The only way I'd get rich is to sell up and I'm not doing it.

The way I leave, will be feet first.

Why did you choose us?

There must be other places in this area.

I like to practise my golf shots. No-one else had enough space.

...If you don't mind my practising?

Of course not.

Oh, we've enough space.

What this place would be worth as building land!

Right, I've seen enough of you, young lady.

No extravagance.

Where's that FOOL of a doctor?

I'm afraid Father's very mean.

He gets cross that he's not allowed to touch grandfather's money.

He couldn't sell up, as he puts it, even if he wanted to.

He even uses our local NHS GP.

Dr Quimper is the best in town and he does refuse to have private patients...

Why does he?

He's really committed to the NHS.

What a splendid write-up, Emma!

How do you do?

Lucy Eyelesbarrow. John Quimper.

- How do you do? - I'm here to help out.

Yes, Emma told me.

Mind you stand up to Luther, or he'll bully you.

- She does. - Good.

- How is Luther today? - Usual self.

Excuse me.

Come on. I'd better show you the kitchen.

Wouldn't you rather...

No, no. We must get on. Too much to do.

- Oh, Lord! I quite forgot! - What is it?

I forgot to tell you about the invasion. The family come.

I mean my brothers. They have to, to grandfather's birthday.

And my nephew, Alexander, and his chum, for their half-terms,

and his father, my brother-in-law.

That's all right.

It's not what you expected.

I'll look forward to it.

Really?

They come for grandfather's birthday.

They are obliged to, under the terms of his will.

Why?

To remain beneficiaries. Grandfather was an old rogue.

Right then, Mrs Kidder.

'Between you and me, Mrs Kidder isn't exactly speed made manifest.'

This is Miss Eyelesbarrow, Mrs Kidder. She's come to help us out.

How do you do, Miss?

How do you do?

What would you like me to do, Mrs Kidder?

Oh... Ah...

Well, you could say...

Well, why not?

What a magnificent kitchen, Mrs Kidder.

A lot of hard work for you, I imagine.

That girl's amazing.

She's only been in the house half an hour,

and I feel as if I'm on holiday!

Good. I'm glad.

Take a breather. You deserve it.

When's the invasion?

Friday. The supper is on Monday.

Bryan brings the boys down the day after tomorrow.

No cooking today!

I'll be off now, then.

Do.

You won't mind if I do a little tidying and flick a duster around?

Whatever's your pleasure, Miss.

GOLF BALL IS HIT

What the hell's she doing here?

TRAIN CHUGS ALONG

Hello, Alexander!

- Hello. - This must be James.

Yes. Stoddart-West. He's not bad.

This is Aunt Em. She's great.

- You two are in the east bedroom. - That's our room. Come on.

How do you do?

Bryan Eastley. Father of the bossy one.

I'm the new help/housekeeper.

Really?

...I'm practising. I'm not very good.

Just since Monday. I wanted to be in the area...

I left some of it behind in case the police...

Good girl!

I'm sure it's been dyed.

It could be part of a woman's coat.

Yes. Something's definitely been dragged down the slope.

Well, perhaps not definitely.

You begin to find what isn't there. It's not much.

My dear, you've only been there for ten minutes. Most interesting.

Now where will you look next?

BOYS' LAUGHTER

Come on, Stodders! Call yourself a decent ladder?

Hello.

Oh, Miss Eyelesbarrow, terrific.

Would you mind reaching the key?

It's over the door on the ledge.

He's all right as an opening bat but he makes an awful ladder.

There's an old archery set in here.

Will you give us a game if we set it up?

All right.

This bit belonged to the farm which was here originally.

My great-grandfather who built the Hall found some man-traps in here.

They were rusty but he set them in the woods

to frighten the Brackhamptoners off.

He thought they'd think they worked.

- He seems to have a lot to answer for. - He was a bit of a villain.

- Was he responsible for the statues? - No, that was Grandfather.

They're pretty frightful, aren't they?

Ah!

THAT way, I reckon, Stodders.

Lucy?

Oh, Lucy!

Lucy?

Well, well, my beloved sons have arrived(!)

Here's the new prescription. Do you want me to explain it to you?

Look at that.

CONVERSATION IS INAUDIBLE

Ring the police.

- Don't you think we should... - RING the police!

Been dead over two weeks, I'd say.

The temperature is quite low in there.

Your chap'll be able to tell you more once he has it in the mortuary.

I'll go and see to the family.

Emma's taken it very hard.

Hello, Alex. Got a friend with you today?

Yes, Doctor.

Dr Quimper?

What can you tell me about the family?

Oh, well...only two of them are my patients.

Three when the one who's an artist comes home from abroad, Cedric.

The old man - he's not as ill as he thinks he is.

Emma - she's the salt of the earth.

Harold's the banker. Married an earl's sister.

Don't think he sees much of her.

She's in Cap d'Antibes just now.

It's a Daimler, but it's not a Rolls.

And it's been the same Daimler for 4 years.

Alfred calls himself a dealer.

He buys and sells things, like cars.

He only has a car when he's about to sell it.

- You don't like them, do you? - It's not a question of dislike.

I think what they do is useless. I can't wish them success, can I?

You realise we're going public?

I'm sorry?

The bank! We're going to be quoted on the Stock Exchange.

This sort of thing could do us appalling damage.

I don't see how.

If some lunatic chooses to dump a corpse on the premises,

it's nothing to do with us.

Isn't it?

- What does that mean? - The letter.

The letter I got - Martine. Well, it could be, couldn't it?

For God's sake! You're accusing a member of the family!

I didn't mean that. I just thought...

You don't bloody well think!

KNOCK AT DOOR

Yes?

The Inspector would like a word.

COUGHS

Say that again.

I was told there may be a body here and was asked to find it.

By whom?

An old lady I know who lives in St Mary Mead.

I see.

And that's all you know?

Yes.

You're not thinking of leaving soon?

No. The family all seem very shocked by this business.

I think they need me.

White. Female. Mid-thirties.

Hair dark brown, long, wavy.

Apparent cause of death, strangulation.

Death occurred eighteen days ago and incident was possibly witnessed.

We don't mention that to anyone.

- Sir. - Tell all officers.

All members of household deny having seen victim before.

Motive for murder, unknown.

Reason for depositing body where found...

...unknown.

Look out!

There's been a murder!

And we've got a whole ten days half-term to solve it!

- Steady on, old boy. - It's true, I'm afraid.

- A murder? - That's what it looks like.

Are you leaving?

No, I'm just going to see my aunt in St Mary Mead.

Do you want a lift?

Well...

It would be useful. Do you mind?

Tell Uncle Harold where I am.

But don't you...?

Tell me about it when I get back.

What's going on?

Thank you. Keep the change.

Hello!

- Eastley! - Flown any good planes recently?

And who are you?!

I'm the hired help.

Things are looking up.

Don't tell me brother Alfred's robbed a bank at last.

There's been a murder.

- Mr Crackenthorpe? - Yes?

Mr CEDRIC Crackenthorpe?

Yes!

Could the Inspector speak to you for a moment, please, sir?

Alexander's a nice boy.

Worrying thing - child, you know. What to do for the best.

Thank you, sir.

Sorry I couldn't help.

None of them clapped eyes on her before.

- You believe them? - Yes.

WHO the hell is she?!

Congratulations again, Lucy,

and if you are determined to go on...

I can't let Emma down.

Then be VERY careful.

You're sure that it's to do with the family?

I'm not sure that I'm sure,

but old Josiah Crackenthorpe seems to have been a bit...

That will of his!

Just the sort of thing that causes lots of problems.

Oh, that useless great house!

I wouldn't be at all surprised if it were to do with...

Yes.

Well, we mustn't keep that handsome young man waiting any longer.

He looks rather lost, doesn't he? And just a little desperate.

Yes, he does.

But VERY nice manners.

Super to have met you.

And we'll be seeing you tomorrow for tea. I'll look forward to that.

Thank you VERY much. I...

ENGINE STARTS Goodbye.

Do you think I could possibly have the salt?

This is 'stremely edible.

Mm. Triffic. Super!

You should see the sewage they slop out at school.

What's for pudding?

Do us a favour, old boy.

Treacle tart and ice cream.

Mm!

It's the best half-term ever!

Eat me out of house and home.

I'm just glad it's only a murder and no-one's swindled the revenue...

What a colourful family we are(!)

Alexander's right.

This is almost as delicious as the person who cooked it.

BE quiet, you bloody poseur.

I'm all right. I'm ALL RIGHT.

I don't like it.

There's the poor bloke,

probably he can no more afford it than I can,

and I'm supposed to get that first premium from him.

You shouldn't sell something you don't believe in.

How can you believe in insurance?

But you do some flying, don't you?

I deliver planes occasionally.

I fly other men's planes.

How's Mr Crackenthorpe?

He's fine. You cook too well! He was the same at Christmas.

Dr Quimper seemed concerned. He asked what he'd been eating.

I think it was quite simply greed.

Shall I do some drying up?

Oh, I see I've been beaten to it.

What a frightening woman you are, Miss Eyelesbarrow.

Out of chaos you make order and light. A goddess in sensible shoes!

And skin...

like a Manet or a Tissot.

Manet'd give you a black velvet ribbon round your lovely throat

and make your shoulders all peaches and ivory.

If you're going to stay and talk nonsense,

would you do something useful?

No, thanks. But Bryan needs a new one.

Lucy!

Someone wants to say goodnight to you.

I'll take the tray.

That's his DFC and that's his DSO. He got them twice over.

That's what the bars mean.

He was credited with 28 victories.

Here...

I wish he still looked like that.

Those gastronomic and femoral developments

and the pronounced vastus,

and the general muscle tone, I want attention drawn to those.

Yes, Mr Patmore.

They've brought in the Yard.

- Some snotty git called Duckham. - He's a good bloke, I've heard.

I'm glad he's a good bloke(!) He'll be down after lunch.

- Down here? - Yes. Come on.

I'm not staying to nursemaid a good bloke from the bloody Yard.

I have work to do.

Course you have.

Oh.

Oh, well, yes, well, goodness me, thank you. That WAS exciting.

Miss Marple!

Oh, Inspector Duckham!

This I don't believe.

Oh, what a lovely surprise!

Inspector Slack? Duckham.

I'll keep out of your way as much as possible. It's your case.

Thank you, Inspector.

- Miss Marple. - Inspector.

I believe I'm expected for tea. Perhaps we shall meet later on?

I hope so, if you have time.

Indeed.

You know Miss Marple, do you?

Mm. Well, local people can be...

...quite helpful. Sometimes.

I suppose.

Yes. She's quite the village busybody.

And she's the woman mentioned in your preliminary report, isn't she?

- Excellent piece of work. - Thank you.

- Isn't she? - Yes.

Good. Excellent! You must know how useful she is.

This is still your case, old man, but I'm going to add a proviso.

I'm going to insist that we involve Miss Marple at every stage.

She has a genius for pointing out the obvious.

Her knowledge of these kind of people will be in valuable.

- Right. - Good. I'm glad that's settled.

Have you questioned the family yet?

I have some details about them which might suggest a line of questioning.

Alfred's interesting. Has premises in Warren Street.

Deals in cars and anything he can turn over quickly.

Unsuccessful. Known to some villains.

Harold's a merchant banker but his bank's in a dodgy position.

Just need one of their major loans to go wrong...

Cedric's an artist.

He was in Ibiza until yesterday. We can exclude him.

The father and daughter, I don't know anything about.

- Her clothes were French, were they? - Yes, good quality, except the coat.

Shoes were English, new. Rodneys.

Could your people trace them?

Yes, of course.

By the way, has Patmore spoken to you?

No.

The post mortem revealed that she was an athlete of some sort.

A runner, perhaps. Very high muscle tone.

"Fabrique en France."

Oh, yes.

Cheap, isn't it? Rather tawdry.

Most interesting.

Thank you.

What's she doing here? Who is she?

Ah, there you are, Aunt Jane. Good.

Oh...yes.

- Well, yes, yes. - I'll fetch Bryan.

Anyway, thank you for your help.

I'll ask Dessin in Paris

if he has any female athletes on his missing persons list.

I've been thinking about that. Her clothes and so on.

Yes?

It occurred to me that her clothes implied someone

who has times when she has money and times when she hasn't.

Sometimes she bought good things. Sometimes she bought cheap things.

That might mean she was in and out of work a lot, but isn't feckless.

The most notorious profession for that is the theatre.

An actress?

No, no, I don't think so.

An athlete, you said?

Well, most dancers are stronger than athletes.

You must be Dr Quimper.

My niece has told me so much about you.

Your niece is a remarkable young woman.

I'm glad the family have her, especially at the moment.

Duckham, CID.

- If you need me, Inspector... - Thank you.

He's promised to drive more slowly.

Oh, I'm sure he drives carefully.

It's just that Inch is rather different. I'm very grateful.

Monday morning we start on the family.

We start with the broke banker.

Hello. You're out early.

GUNSHOT

I must say this kedgeree could make a man fall in love with its creator.

Mrs Kidder will be very flattered.

OK, Alex. James.

- Delish. Thanks. - Awfully nice. Thanks.

Would you mind if I telephoned to my aunt?

Not at all. Use the phone in the study, if it works.

It's never been right since the police rigged up their line.

PHONE RINGS

St Mary Mead 236.

Hello, Aunt Jane. It's Lucy.

Ah, Lucy!

The birthday supper is tonight. The solicitor is Arthur Wimborne.

Oh, little Arthur! He was such a charming baby.

I went to his christening.

Most unusual - he thought it such fun!

Thank you, my dear. I shall go and see him.

HEAVY FOOTSTEPS

Come on!

John?

Are you all right?

I've been up all night. A breech birth.

You should have got some sleep.

You know why I come here.

Yes. You know how glad it makes me.

John...

Harold's disappeared.

- What do you mean? - We can't find him.

Worried?

No, but it is rather odd.

You could get these coppers to earn their living!

PHONE RINGS

Sergeant Lake here. Can I help?

Really?

Could you hold the line, sir?

They may have identified her. Dancer. Disappeared on the right day.

Slack.

Ballet Maritska.

French touring company.

Anna Stravinska. Excuse me.

That's who they think the victim is, Anna Stravinska.

Yes?

Theatre Royal...

Good. Thanks.

Right, get Harold the banker.

Let's find out what he was doing the day they launched the Sputnik.

Thank you.

This is an unexpected pleasure, Miss Marple.

It's very good of you to see me at such short notice.

How is your mother?

Silver cup for her chrysanths at the autumn show.

Oh, well done, Molly!

Yes, indeed.

What can I do for you?

It's Mr Josiah Crackenthorpe's birthday.

Can you tell me about it?

Oh yes, the body in the tomb. You're interested in that?

I thought you would be interested.

It's not particularly confidential.

Yes, I think I can.

Luther showed signs of wanting to turn the Crackenthorpe fortune

into a collection of very dubious art.

Old Josiah couldn't allow that.

He devised a will which gave Luther the house and an income for life,

but he wasn't allowed to touch the capital, or sell the house.

If you asked Emma, I'm sure she'd tell you

that everything was entailed for the grandchildren.

In order to remain beneficiaries of the will,

the family has to gather once a year on his birthday

to celebrate it and to drink to his memory.

Our firm are executors and go along to see fair play.

- How very odd. - Yes, it is.

And there's something else...

that I'm afraid is confidential.

Dear me. What a pity.

Do you do the crossword, Miss Marple?

Yes, I'm very fond of crosswords.

What IS that word?

I keep trying to think of that French word for a peel of bells.

A tocsin?

That's right. It's like that.

Got it! Tontine. Ton-tine.

Good.

Oh.

Good.

We can't find Harold Crackenthorpe.

I've chucked my job.

What?

When?

This morning.

I wrote the letter last night and posted it early this morning.

What on earth did you do that for?

Because you told me to.

You're mad!

I don't think I am.

If I told you to punch a policeman, you'd do that?

Probably would.

Then you'll understand if I say very little to you, won't you?

Where does your brother go shooting?

Bishop's Wood and down by the lake.

Take a constable and walk the woods, Lake.

Yes?

This.

Arabesque!

C'est trop vite, madame.

Philipe, plus lentement!

♪ Da-da-da-da-da... ♪ Tres bien, tres bien.

MALE DANCER HAS PERSISTENT COUGH

Madame Joliet?

Alors, qu'est-ce qu'lly a?

Continuez. Merci!

Plus tragique! Plus tragique!

Tres bien. Tres bien!

C'est impossible, madame. C'est une betise!

Je ne peux pas travailler...

Ferme la! Tu es un cygne delicat, ma cherie, pas un canard boiteux.

Continuez, s'il vous plait.

Merci(!)

Philipe. Et...

BALLERINA SNEEZES

What a bloody shambles!

MUFFLED CONVERSATION

What did you want to show me that for?

I'm sorry.

Yes, it's Anna. What did they do to her?

She was strangled.

OK, Antoine.

She was a good little dancer.

What am I saying?

No, she wasn't very good, poor lass.

She was cheap and keen.

She filled in at the back of the corps.

She kept fit at least.

No late nights.

Well, she was older than most of them.

And dead religious.

She hated it if a Sunday train call made her miss her bells and smells.

Poor Anna. I thought she'd found another man at last.

I was quite relieved, as a matter of fact, when she didn't turn up.

Dear God, what an epitaph!

"One rehearsal and I was forgotten."

We'll let you have the original in due course.

Now, let's see - your brother, Edmund, was killed during the war?

Yes, on the retreat to Dunkirk.

Now this woman, Martine, is claiming to be his widow and to have his son.

Why has she left it till now?

I've no idea. I suppose we have to accept the reason she gives.

She was doing all right, but now feels she can't give her son

the advantages that should be his.

It's reasonable...

- It sounds reasonable. - I think it's highly unlikely.

My brother did meet a girl out there.

His last letter said so.

Did he?

Yes, it was obviously quite a thing.

I mean he was quite serious about it.

- Did he mention her name? - Not really.

It was in inverted commas, a nickname.

Minou or something like that.

This woman could be a fortune hunter.

Yes, but it's possible that's she's genuine.

Is it the sort of thing your brother might have done?

Yes, it is.

Cedric, Edie and Edmund were wilder than the rest of us.

Poor Edie married Bryan Eastley when he was a dashing young pilot.

She thought he could die any day.

It depends on how much you think happiness counts, I suppose...

Where was I?

Oh, yes, Edmund.

- Well... - Excuse me a moment.

HE DIALS NUMBER

Yes... Right.

I'll ask. Thanks.

Thank you.

Did you ever hear Anna Stravinska refer to herself as Martine?

She never called herself that but...

Will her real name be in your files?

I suppose so.

Do you mind looking it up?

Did you do anything about this?

Yes.

I got on to the War Office and I answered it but she didn't reply.

Do you think it's important?

Maybe.

Bryan and Dr Quimper thought I should tell you about the letter.

Harold didn't want me to.

Why not?

He said it would look bad for the family if this woman WAS Martine.

Martine Isabelle Perrault.

Do you know if she was married?

She said she had been. To an Englishman.

Years ago. A wartime fling, I expect!

Do you have a home address?

No. She said she was moving to England.

She must have a trunkful of things somewhere.

Ask Francoise.

We need family papers, photos.

Ask Francoise. She was her copine.

The address.

I've got a lighting rehearsal. In the stalls, if you want me.

Habillez-vous! Get your clothes on!

This is a London address.

Anna was between apartments.

She wanted to move to Londres, her husband's family.

She thought they will become friends again.

- That is her, isn't it? - Oui. That's Martine.

Lads, come on. Move.

These traps have been illegal for centuries. What's it doing here?

The old man's father found them.

- How do you know? - The gardener told me.

The old fool used them to scare people off.

None of them worked. This one did.

What a bloody mess.

Damn!

Turned it over last night. Made a neat job.

French woman's lodging here. She's away on tour.

What's been taken?

It's hard to tell. But there's no private stuff - no pics or letters.

Yes, yes.

Sergeant, would you get hold of an Inspector Slack on this number.

Say I'll arrive at teatime.

Could he spare me some of his valuable time?

There's someone I want us to consult.

Er...yes, sir.

Harold's bank was borrowing against his future legacy.

His creditors may have foreclosed if they'd heard about another claim on the estate.

I'm sure he would have thought that.

He may have known Martine's claim was genuine.

So he decided to get rid of her

and destroy the proof of any connection she had with the family.

And then?

Once the body was found, he assumed that he would be accused eventually

so he took things into his own hands and staged a shooting accident.

He didn't leave a note, did he?

Not as far as we know.

There could have been insurance, which doesn't pay out on suicide,

so it had to look accidental.

Yes...

Yes... Of course.

I haven't convinced you, have I?

Oh, I don't know. You never knew Archibald Spaight so you won't...

No...

You've made it sound so convincing and you've identified this Martine so...

Well, yes, I suppose you must be right.

Archibald Spaight?

Yes, did you know him? So like Harold Crackenthorpe.

He'd finger his cuff-links when he was nervous or about to be cross.

THAT'S my objection in a nutshell.

Ehm...Miss Marple?

I'm sorry.

It's just that Archibald Spaight greatly disliked his wife.

He left her nothing in his will and she went to court to get something.

Did Harold Crackenthorpe like his wife enough

to make his suicide look accidental for her benefit?

What do you think?

It COULD have been an accident, as simple as that.

Yes.

All right... If he was murdered?

If he was, then Rutherford Hall is a very dangerous place.

Why do you say that?

May I make a suggestion?

Of course!

I think you should see Arthur Wimborne and ask what a tontine is.

I think as a solicitor, you see,

he would be able to explain it so much more cleverly than I can.

A tontine is a financial device

by which the sharers in a common fund

increase their portion of the fund as the other sharers die.

The last survivor collects the lot.

Would it be possible to construct a will along those lines?

Yes.

Has it been done to your knowledge?

Once in my experience, yes.

The beneficiaries received an income based on a share in the capital.

The capital itself was entailed to their children

and to their children after them.

If a beneficiary died without issue,

their capital was distributed amongst the survivors.

Not a true tontine, but near enough.

I see.

It would be in the interests of any member of the family

to see the other members die off -

especially if the others had no children?

Yes, that's right.

Now, if you'll excuse me,

I have an appointment at Rutherford Hall.

- Will Father be coming down? - Yes.

What counts as being present?

You should all be together in the same room.

If we had any guts, we'd challenge this in the courts.

It would be expensive.

And the only reason we're here is money.

My God, it's so ugly. Look at us.

All except precious Bryan here, who is present on behalf of his son.

Yes, I am, Cedric.

DOOR OPENS

You look EDIBLE, Lucy!

Cinderella shall go to the feast, even though she did cook it herself.

Lucy, is everything ready?

- Yes, it is. - You are wonderful.

I'll see how Father's getting on. He was in bed all afternoon.

Oh!

Come here, girl. I'll take you in.

- You'll be sitting with us. - Will I?

I insist. Come on, take my arm!

Had your eyeful?

Do YOU think it was an accident? Uncle Harold, I mean.

I don't know. It was horrible!

If he WAS murdered, the person who killed him is sitting downstairs.

Oh, shut up, Ally!

One of them's a murderer.

ALEXANDER: People murder for two reasons:

money or love.

Nobody's ever loved Uncle Harold,

not even his super-snooty wife,

so it was money.

That must mean Crackenthorpe money.

So that must mean that one of the Crackenthorpes

is trying to get rid of the rest of us, old fruit.

- Steady, Daddy. - Mm?

Remember what John Quimper said.

He's a fusspot, an old maid. He pesters me.

Heard of the latest thing? A food diary! I ask you.

"10am - tea." Not forgetting "half a fluid ounce of milk."

Nightmare!

He's a good doctor.

I don't agree.

He's a fool and a failure.

How can you say that?

He's not a grab-the-money-and-run merchant.

He believes medicine should be free and practises what he believes in,

unlike any of us round this table.

I'm sorry, Lucy.

How can you say he's a failure?

I didn't mean that.

John Quimper believes in the future.

He believes in the fundamental decency of human beings.

I don't! I think we're rats until we're taught otherwise.

I think civilisation is a holding operation.

What do you think, Bryan?

How do you mean?

Nature or nurture, what do you think?

Some people are nicer than others.

Oh! Wonderful.

- I think... - Yes?

You DO realise that the police think one of us killed Harold and Martine?

Harold's death was an accident.

You really think so?

Yes. Who would want to kill Harold? He's a harmless fusspot.

We can't start seeing murderers everywhere.

What's happening to us?

Calm down!

I agree with you, Em. One murder doesn't presuppose another.

Whoever slung out those traps should have immobilised them.

Bet they bring in "Misadventure".

As for the girl, I wasn't even in the country at the time.

Your spaniel is saying goodnight to his son,

so I'm taking the opportunity.

A passion for order...

Some half-decent art has resulted from that passion.

What other passions do you entertain, Lucy?

Lucy,

"What fond and wayward thoughts will slide into a lover's head!

""Oh mercy!" to myself I cried, "If Lucy should be dead!""

I'd like you to come to the island with me.

I'd like to show you my kingdom by the sea.

It's mine because I know it intimately.

I know its nooks and crannies.

I know the smell of its earth,

its plants.

CEDRIC WHISTLES "The Teddy Bears' Picnic"

I'm sorry.

Don't damn well apologise, for God's sake!

I came to ask you something.

WHAT?

Whether I should do something.

Can't you make up your mind about anything? Whatever it is, DO it!

Sell your house! Buy an aeroplane!

Go to hell!

I'll do it then.

Please tell Inspector Slack that I have some information.

- Hello, Mary. - Good morning, sir.

Oh, Inspector, how nice!

I hope you don't mind my coming so early.

Not in the least. DO come in.

It seems to me that the murder of Martine Perrault

was very carefully planned.

Her body would have remained hidden but for Elspeth McGillicuddy.

Then Harold was murdered -

so differently, so indiscreetly, so theatrically.

Now, if Harold had to be killed suddenly,

it seems most likely it was because he knew something,

or pretended he did.

About Martine Perrault?

Perhaps. What do we know about her?

Not much. Someone made sure of that.

We should try to find one of Edmund's friends in the regiment.

He'd have told a fellow officer if he'd married a French girl.

Excellent. Leave that with me.

And I shall go and visit a lady in Kensington.

I was delivering a plane - usual sort of trip, Bristol to Northolt.

I was looking for the bloke to do the paperwork.

A passenger kite had just landed from Paris.

The civvies were walking across the tarmac.

I recognised one.

Who was it?

Cedric Crackenthorpe.

Do you have reason to believe that Mr Crackenthorpe

has something to do with this business, sir?

I don't know. I came to tell you because I don't like him.

Have they questioned you?

Yes.

About the day the Sputnik thing happened?

And trains?

Oh, yes.

And me?

What is it, Em?

Bryan. That was the day he came down from Paddington.

He was kicking himself for catching the slow train

when he should have caught the 4.50.

Do you think I ought to tell them?

Bryan? You can't be serious.

Well, who then, Freddie? Who?

Lucy!

The phone's gone funny again.

I'm sure it's that wire the police have rigged up.

Would you have a word?

Of course.

Go on.

All right. I did fly over from Paris. Clever old you.

The reason I didn't mention it is because there's a woman in the case.

CEDRIC: Monica Stevens, 9 Chandos Mews, SW1.

I'd be grateful if you rang during the day and not at the weekends.

Why?

Why do you think? She's married.

Where were you the rest of that day?

Well...there's still a law against pornography in this country!

We went to the Hargrave House Hotel in Bloomsbury Street.

We were Mr Peter and Lady Patricia Cooper for the occasion.

Thank you.

Good.

It was Eastley, wasn't it,

who told you I was at Northolt that day?

I thought so. I thought I saw him.

A word of advice, - don't overlook Eastley.

War heroes don't wear well in peacetime. They go off.

He may be thick but he's strong.

Like some household preparations they market nowadays -

thick, strong and kills anything in sight.

The description we have is wrong for Mr Eastley, sir.

Really?

You have a description, do you? How interesting.

What could be wrong, I wonder?

Hair? He's fair-haired. Is that it? The rest of us are dark.

May I sow a seed of honest doubt in your minds?

As an artist, I know about these things.

Imagine a sheet of opaque white paper

which is dazzling you with the sun on it.

If you put it against the sky with the light source beyond it,

it'll look nearly black.

You see, it's all relative.

Anyone fair-haired with a light behind them will look dark.

I don't know the circumstances,

but worth considering, don't you think?

Hello.

Damn, damn, DAMN.

I suppose a chap like Quimper...

What?

I expect he's rushed off his feet.

Yes. You have to LIVE the sort of work he does.

Yes. I suppose so.

I didn't realise you were fond of him.

Oh, it's all right.

We'd have...

What?

I know Daddy's been pretending about his health for years

but he really hasn't got very long.

John thought we shouldn't upset him.

If Daddy didn't think I was going to be here much longer, or that...

Anyway, the point is that one day John Quimper and I...

Well, we're engaged.

Really?

Oh, I AM pleased, Em!

You're the only person I've told, so keep it quiet.

I couldn't bear Daddy to think I was deserting him.

Of course.

What were you going to say about John?

Oh, it's all right.

No, go on. Tell me.

It's not important and it doesn't matter now.

Not much does.

It's just that Quimper didn't spot something which...well...

What something?

One of these things you have to catch early on.

If he had, it might have been a different story.

Too late now.

Too late?

Mm.

They've offered to hack me around,

but there isn't much point really, not once it's got hold.

Now, you mustn't upset yourself. These fellows have to work too hard.

I must go.

The coppers want a word with me.

I've given them an alibi but all my witnesses were crooks!

We'll talk later. God bless you, Em.

None of Crackenthorpe's fellow officers had heard of him marrying.

And they would have done - he wasn't exactly the reticent type.

- Where is she? - She's not in.

Well, don't let me keep you. You can send the car back for me.

No, no, we'll wait.

Oh!

Oh, I am so sorry. It's Mary's afternoon off.

Were you successful, Miss Marple?

Yes. I got very nice pillowcases from Derry and Tom's.

Do come in.

Oh! I see what you mean!

I went to see Alice Crackenthorpe, Harold's widow.

Did you know that Harold had a passion?

What was it?

The ballet.

His flat is full of mementoes - photographs, paintings, drawings.

In particular, there was a poster

advertising the last English tour of the Ballet Maritska.

So that girl was never married to Edmund Crackenthorpe?

That's very interesting.

Have you traced her?

Still trying.

But she's dead.

A young woman is dead, certainly.

You think Martine Perrault is not this girl of Edmund Crackenthorpe's?

That's right.

I think we were meant to think she was.

If so, someone doesn't want us to know who Martine Perrault was.

I think the murderer suspected Harold of knowing who she was.

Do you think you know who she was?

Yes. And if I'm right, then we have our murderer.

Well, we know who did it but we shall have to prove it.

Yes.

Yes.

I shall invite Elspeth McGillicuddy for the weekend. Yes.

I think Saturday would be a good day, don't you?

I shall go up to town tomorrow and, if necessary, the next day.

I must telephone Inch.

To London?

To Somerset House.

Saturday?

Yes. I think we should have a plan for Saturday. Don't you?

Saturday already.

Only one of your lunches to go.

Rotten swizz.

Stodders and I think you're out of this world as a cook.

And you're very sensible.

Am I? Is that good?

Yes.

If Dad turns up from time to time, look after him, won't you?

Yes.

London life doesn't really suit him.

He doesn't say things well and people think he's boring.

But he isn't. He can be great.

He quite likes you, you know.

Do you like him?

Yes, I do, but...

What?

I wish he wouldn't keep doing what I tell him to.

Why?

What do you think?

"Eastley Light Freight" and a parcel with wings.

- You haven't bought it, have you? - Of course I have.

I've hocked the house and bought a plane,

just like you told me to.

Like it?

She's a great influence, isn't she?

You can help me move the kite.

Remember what I've told told you. Lucy will help you.

Yes, I do. But I wish I knew what it was about!

What made you invite the old crustacean again?

She's even brought another member of the species.

Lucy asked me to and she's been so helpful.

Poor old Bryan. Brought his new toy to show Mummy.

Father will be livid about that plane.

My dear Miss Marple!

The reckless young fool! What got into him?

That young woman has a lot to answer for.

You're very kind, Miss Crackenthorpe.

We knew you knew Miss Marple.

Coffee is the only entertaining we do now Father...

Lucy! Sandwiches! You've done us proud.

John will be pleased. He never eats properly all day.

He'll join us after he's seen to Father.

I wonder...

- Might I visit your bathroom? - Yes, of course. I'll show you.

Inspector, a sandwich? Cucumber and...fish paste, I think.

COUGHING

- A fish bone, I think. - I'll get Dr Quimper.

John, Miss Marple thinks she may have a fish bone in her throat.

Come over to the light.

That's him! The man on the train.

I thought you'd recognise him, Elspeth.

You didn't know, did you, Doctor,

that when you strangled that woman on the train, someone saw you?

It's unusual, I believe, to have an eye-witness to murder.

You're serious, aren't you?

What on earth are you talking about?

Look here, Miss... I think...

She wouldn't do as you wanted, so you killed her.

What are you talking about?

Miss Eyelesbarrow, your aunt...

There is nothing wrong with me.

Yes, Lucy, really...

Shut up, Em.

This is absurd.

I am a busy man,

and although the psychology of the event

is no doubt fascinating...

Emma, tell Miss Eyelesbarrow's aunt that I don't murder strange women.

She was not a strange woman.

She was your wife.

What?

This is beyond belief!

"Certified copy of an entry of marriage.

"Chapel of the Sacred Heart, Chelsea, 1944.

"Martine Isabelle Perrault, Spinster..."

You'll have to shoot, old boy.

I said...

you'll have to shoot, old boy.

NO!

GUN FIRES

Gotcha.

That was very inadvisable, sir. The man was armed.

We don't recommend that.

She's not in love with him yet, of course.

I rather think she's more attracted to you.

But she'll marry him and make him what she wants.

THEN she'll fall in love with him,

probably when she's expecting their third child.

I hadn't realised that commonsense is as powerful an instinct as love,

hatred or patriotism.

How very common-sensible of you to realise it.

Inspector, do you think he'll admit to it?

The lab will be able to nail him, but I think he'll talk.

As you said, he's a planner, not an improviser. They're much easier.

Martine Perrault was a good Catholic

and in the end he realised she would never agree to a divorce.

He had to be free to marry Emma.

He was convinced that Harold knew who Martine was so he killed him,

but I believe Dr Quimper wanted to remove most of the family,

and that evil-minded will of Josiah's meant that he'd become a very rich man.

His obsessive concern for Luther's health was a cover

for the day when he'd make it break down completely.

I suspect he knew that Alfred had a fatal illness

and deliberately did not diagnose it early enough.

And the letter from Martine? Quimper sent that?

Oh, yes.

He heard of Edmund Crackenthorpe's wartime fling from Emma

so he sent the letter using his wife's name.

It was a safety net.

It meant he could implicate the family.

What an extraordinary disguise his character was.

Poor Emma was hopelessly in love with him.

She would have made him far too good a wife.

Poor Emma.

I'll stay on as long as you like.

You'll both come and stay with me, of course.

Emma needs to get away from here.

And Lucy, you need chaperoning.

And what about me, Madam?

You'll be all right, Mr Crackenthorpe,

now that you don't have a doctor to tell you you're ill.

You must do all the things he told you not to.

And Miss Griffith's Bureau in Brackhampton

will supply a nice young nurse to fuss over you...