All language subtitles for Murder.She.Wrote.S02E05.Sing.a.Song.of.Murder.WEBRip.x264-ION10

I'm here to get your signature
on this bill of sale.

Oh, no.

Don't tell me "no"!

The "great lady"
will still be out on that stage

a dozen years from now,
and they're still kissing her pinky ring.

[Jessica] Tonight on Murder, She Wrote.

Your cousin was involved
in a fatal auto accident.

I told you. I did not hear that message!

In a few months, we'll have nothing.

I'll talk to her!

Your resemblance to Emma's remarkable.

Now, there's one who would
make lady Macbeth

seem like a flower girl.

Inspector!

[cheerful orchestral music]

Tell me, ain't I right?

A bloke never gets in trouble
chasing women.

It's after they're caught
the trouble begins.

I just got this letter from a man.

Says if I don't stay away from his wife,
he's gonna shoot me.

Ruddy mess he's put me in.

He didn't sign it.

[scattered chuckles]

Am I keeping you up then, mate?

Slumber time, eh?

Hello there, lady.

Having trouble with your trumpet?

A bit too loud for you, eh?

You like this suit?

It was a surprise from my wife.

I came home one night

and found it
hanging on the back of a chair

in the bedroom.

My wife used to shop
in three or four stores.

The bills were ungodly dear.

Now the bills are much smaller.

She shops in 30 or 40 stores.

[chuckles]

I said to my wife, I said,
"You ought to be in parliament.

You bring so many bills into the house."

Hello, Kitty.

Bit of a surprise seeing you here.

School's on holiday.

Ah.

Your dad seems a bit off the mark tonight.

Did he tell you we've had an offer?

You've had offers before,
Archie. She won't sell.

Can't keep up this way.

No?

Somehow, I think the great lady

will still be out on that stage
a dozen years from now

singing the same songs,
my dad still kissing her pinky ring.

One day, he's got the wolf at the door.

The next day,
his wife's wearin' a fur coat.

Ah, miss Kitty.

There's a fine surprise seein' you here.

Hello, Bridget.

And how are the little children?

Learnin' their lessons well, are they?

[Vaudeville music plays]

House full of ruddy corpses!

They can damn well do without my encore.

Oh, things'll pick up, Oliver.

Oh? And when's that to be, Archie?

Turn of the century?

Put that in your act, old fella.

Funniest line you've said tonight.

[scattered applause]

Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Oliver Trumbull,
ladies and gentlemen.

And now, dear friends,

the gemstone of our evening's diversion,

an interlude of melody

from that singular sweetheart of song,

that beauteous balladeer,
mistress Emma MacGill!

[piano and violin music]

♪ The snow was very plentiful ♪

♪ And crumbs were very few ♪

♪ When a weather-beaten sparrow through ♪

♪ A mansion window flew ♪

♪ Her eye fell on a golden cage ♪

♪ A sweet love song she heard ♪

♪ Sung by a pet canary there ♪

♪ A handsome yellow bird ♪

♪ He said to her miss sparrow ♪

♪ I've been struck by Cupid's arrow ♪

♪ Will you share my cage with me? ♪

♪ She looked up at his castle ♪

♪ With its ribbon and its tassel ♪

♪ And in a plaintive tone said she ♪

♪ Good-bye, little yellow bird ♪

♪ I'd gladly mate with you ♪

♪ I love you, little yellow bird ♪

♪ But I love my freedom, too ♪

Is that it for tonight then, Archie?

Hmm?

Not wearing your fingers out
counting, are you?

We've done worse, Vi.

Have you talked to her?

I'll get to it.

In time for the next coronation.

Look, I've just come from Danny Briggs.

The offer still stands.

But he and his partners
aren't gonna wait forever.

Don't tell me, Vi.

It's her ladyship standin' in the way.

You know what she says.

Look, your dad didn't leave you
his half of this old mausoleum

just so's the tax people
could take it away.

They stopped wantin'
her kind of music years ago.

In a few months, we'll have nothing.

All right. I'll talk to her.

Oh!

♪ Could not be sold ♪

♪ She said I must be going ♪

♪ But he cried no, no, it's snowing ♪

♪ And the wintry winds do blow ♪

♪ Stay with me, my little dearie ♪

♪ For without you t'would be dreary ♪

♪ But she only sighed, ah, no ♪

♪ Good-bye, little yellow bird ♪

♪ I'd gladly mate with you ♪

♪ I love you, little yellow bird ♪

[audience joins in]

♪ But I love my freedom, too ♪

♪ So good-bye, little yellow bird, ♪

♪ I'd rather brave the cold ♪

♪ On a leafless tree ♪

♪ Than a prisoner be ♪

♪ In a cage of gold ♪

[cheers and applause]

Thank you, Bridget.

Oh, hello, Violet.

Rather a nice house tonight,
don't you think?

Yes, ma'am. Quite nice.

You know, if this weather
weren't so ghastly,

I think we'd have done much better.

Right, that and have parliament
black out the telly.

Oh, for pity's sake!

Television can't compare

with the sort of live
entertainment that we provide.

Well, you're right about that.

But nothing goes on forever.

Even old Queen Victoria
found that out, she did.

If you're hinting that I should retire--

Oh, no, ma'am.

I passed by hintin' around six years ago.

The plain truth of the matter is,
it's time you packed it in,

started leadin' a proper life
while you've still got one to lead.

Couldn't have said it better meself.

I didn't hear you knock, Archie.

Like Bridget said,
you hear what you wanna hear.

Nor did I ask you to sit.

Now, look here, old girl. Listen to me.

Me dad and you had a good thing goin',
but he's gone now.

Times have changed.

Archie, I know it's been hard,
but things will change. You'll see.

Give us a few more months,
at least through the summer.

We haven't got till summer!

We've got an offer now, a good offer!

No, I've never been a quitter,
and I won't be one now.

You've no sense, Emma, none at all.

There you are.

Here we go.

Thanks.

-Good night, ma'am.
-Sir.

Good night, Bridget.

Good night, Bridget.

You were marvelous tonight.

Oh, Ollie, you say that every night.

Thought we'd drop by the Ram's Head.

Oh, I could use a pint.

Did you see Kitty?

I thought I saw her backstage.

Is she in from Manchester?

School's on holiday for a week.

Mmm, I wish she liked me better, Ollie.

Nonsense. She adores you.

Mmm.

We all heard about...
about Briggs's offer.

I expect the whole world knows about that.

Now, look here, Em.

I've got a bit put aside,
not much, but enough.

Now, you've given them 40 years.

It's about time you
thought about yourself and me.

Oh, Ollie, I love you.

I really do.

That's why I'm gonna do you the favor
of not marrying you.

That sounds a bit warped.

I don't want to turn two dear friends
into a couple of snarling alley cats.

I mean, this is our life,

not some cottage in Dorchester
tending roses.

Now, Em--

Now, now, my dear.
Not another word, all right?

Oh, damn! I left me wallet back inside.

Excuse me, darling.
I'll be back in a jiffy.

I'll meet you inside.

[engine starts and tires screech]

[crashing]

Emma! Emma!

It's all right. I'm all right.

I'm gonna call the police.

No, no, no, it was nothing.

It was just a drunk driver.

Well, stop fretting and buy me that pint.

[telephone rings]

Yes?

Hello, Mrs. Jessica Fletcher, please.

Yes, this is Jessica Fletcher.

My name's Ernest Fielding.

I'm a solicitor representing
miss Emma MacGill.

Cousin Emma?

Oh, I haven't seen her for years.

I'm afraid, Mrs. Fletcher,

that I have to be
the bearer of distressing news.

Your cousin was involved
in a fatal auto accident

two days ago.

Oh, Lord.

Now, Mrs. Fletcher,
I realize this is an imposition on you,

but in Emma's will,
she specifically requested

that you attend the service.

Leisure World Airways flight 101
now arriving from New York.

Leisure World Airways
flight 101 now arriving...

Mrs. Fletcher?

-Yes.
-Danny Briggs.

I was acquainted with your late cousin
in a business way.

Welcome to London.

Why, thank you, Mr. Briggs.

I was hopin' you might
spare me a few minutes

before you get tangled up
with the solicitor.

I'd like to talk to you about the Mayhew.

The Mayhew?

You haven't been told then?

The music hall,
you're comin' into half of it.

Really? I had no idea. But how did you--

Oh, I have my ways, ma'am.

Look, you'll be partners now
with Archie Weems.

I'm prepared to make you both
a sweet offer for the place...

more than it's worth.

Mr. Briggs, I'm sorry.
I've come here for the services.

And, frankly,
until I talk to Mr. Fielding,

this conversation is a little premature.

Really, Briggs! Not now, all right?

We'll talk again, ma'am.

I'm terribly sorry about that.

It really is remarkable.

Ernest Fielding, Mrs. Fletcher.

I'd given you up for lost.

Oh, I'm terribly sorry.

Here, car's right over here at the curb.

Let me take that.

Thank you.

It's a great pleasure to meet you.

I only wish it were
under different circumstances.

Believe me, so do I.

Here we are.

No, I'd rather sit up front with you.

I'd rather you sit in the back.

Oh, Mr. Fielding, you're not my chauffeur.

It'll be much easier to chat.

I really must insist.

Jessica, please.

Emma!

Hello, cousin. Welcome to London.

Emma, you've put me through
a terrible two days.

Oh, I'm sorry, Jessica,
but I couldn't let anybody know.

It was too dangerous.

Dangerous? Emma, what is going on?

Someone is trying to kill me.

Oh, Lord.

The first attempt was two weeks ago.

My gas heater blew up

just after I returned home from church.

The following Sunday evening,

the rug at the top of the stairs
was loose,

and I barely managed to keep from falling.

And this past Saturday,
someone tried to run me down

right outside the theater.

But are you sure
these aren't just accidents?

Three incidents
on three successive weekends?

Not likely, love.

And that's when, with Ernest's help,
I ran my car over a bridge

into the river right near Portsmouth.

Nobody knows that I'm alive, Jessica.

Just the three of us.

Emma, this is ridiculous.

You must go to the police.

And tell them what?

I mean, with no proof,

they'd write me off as some old geezer

gone off the deep end.

Oh, Emma's safe here.

I've leased the flat
under an assumed name.

I'm a prudent man, Mrs. Fletcher.

Carries an umbrella every day,

even when the sun's shining
like a bright tuppence.

One lump or two?

Oh, just a little milk, please.

We're quite certain that
whoever's behind these attempts

is frustrated by Emma's refusal
to sell the music hall.

Now, that would include
her partner Archie Weems,

his wife, Violet, Oliver Trumbull--

Ridiculous.

Oliver couldn't possibly want to kill me.

But he might wish to frighten you.

Remember, as long as you own the Mayhew,

he knows you have
no intention of retiring.

Oh, I don't believe a word of it.

If you ask me, it's that man Briggs.

Briggs? Daniel Briggs?

He was waiting for me at the airport

to make an offer for my share
of the music hall,

which he said that I had inherited
after your death.

Afraid that's my fault.

But my idea.

I asked Ernest to spread it around
that you were becoming the new owner.

That way, I felt you might
have a better chance

of rooting out who's behind all this.

Emma, you've set me up.

Oh, no, love.

I've merely put you in a position
where you'd learn something.

Set you up, indeed.
Oh, what a ghastly idea.

I've scheduled a memorial service
for tomorrow morning at the Mayhew.

I'm hoping that your appearance there
will stir the waters.

Well, look, it's getting late.

Mr. Fielding,
instead of going to the hotel,

I'd appreciate a lift to Scotland Yard.

The police? Oh, no, Jessica.

I don't trust them, never did.

Well, there's one that I can trust, Emma.

[siren wailing]

Excuse me.

Ah, may-may I help you, madam?

Well, I was looking for Inspector Kyle,
but his office is locked.

Henry's off on holiday, I'm afraid.

Something I might do for you?

Inspector Crimmins.

No, I-I-I don't think so, Inspector.

But thank you, anyway.

J.B. Fletcher.

Thought I knew that face
the minute you walked in the door.

Henry's told me so much about you.

He says you're quite a peach.

He did? That's very nice.

Well, it takes a lot
to earn Henry's admiration.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher, won't you come in?

You sure there isn't something
I can do for you?

Well, it's not official, Inspector.

But I'm sure you're very busy.

Busy? Not bloody likely.

New superintendent, arrogant young pup.

Think he's trying to force me
into early retirement.

He's just got me shuffling
traffic tickets.

Look, Mrs. Fletcher,

you haven't stumbled in here
with a murder, have you?

Well, not exactly.

At least, not yet.

[organ music]

[organ stops]

Lord help us, Emma!

Morning, Trumbull.

Let me introduce you.
Emma's cousin from the United States.

Mrs. Jessica Fletcher, Oliver Trumbull.

Well, how do you do?

I'm sorry, I-- Forgive me.
For a moment, I thought--

I'm delighted to meet you, Mr. Trumbull.

I wish it were
under different circumstances.

Yes, yes, quite so. Excuse me.

[organ music playing]

Forgive my father, Mrs. Fletcher.

Your resemblance to Emma is remarkable,
almost frightening.

He and Emma were very close.

So I understand.

Will you excuse me a moment?

Yes, of course.

I'm Kitty Trumbull.

It's nice to meet you, Kitty.

Morning, all.

That's a bit of a shocker, Fielding.

She looks enough like
Emma to be her sister.

Yes, she does rather.

Look here.

Have you talked to her?

About the place, I mean?
Is she gonna sell?

Aren't you jumping the gun a bit, Weems?

May I remind you, nothing can be
done about the will

until after Emma's body's been recovered.

-Recovered?
-Mmm!

Man, she was swept out to sea
by that river.

They may never find her body.

Excuse me!

[organ stops and crowd murmurs ]

Could I have
everybody's attention, please?

If you'd just like to gather round.

Forgive the intrusion.

I'm Inspector Roger Crimmins
of Scotland Yard.

I'd like to speak to the next of kin
of the late miss Emma MacGill.

I am Emma's cousin, inspector,
Jessica Fletcher.

Mrs. Fletcher, I regret to tell you

miss MacGill's body
was recovered from the beach

early this morning near Portsmouth.

Inspector, there's no doubt then?

Oh, yeah, there's always some doubt.

That's why I must ask Mrs. Fletcher

to accompany me to identify the body.

Ernest Fielding, inspector,
miss MacGill's solicitor.

May I suggest that we spare Mrs. Fletcher
that grueling ordeal?

Permit me to make the identification, eh?

Mmm, as you wish.

Beggin' your pardon, Mr. Fielding.

Bridget O'Hara,
I rang you up twice yesterday.

I don't wish to appear unseemly, Sir,

but the mistress promised
that I would be remembered

after she was gone.

Miss O'Hara, I feel quite certain

that this is neither the time
nor the place.

Didn't waste much time
taking over, did you?

Oh, I'm not taking over, miss O'Hara.

No skin off my nose, as they say.

You'll be getting it all anyway,

except that which is specified for others,
those of us who were close to her.

Oh, believe me, I didn't
come here to take anything.

More than 30 years, I tended to her needs.

But I suppose blood is thicker
than water, as they say.

Uh, miss O'Hara, Bridget,

I know that you were loyal to my cousin,

and I feel that I can trust you.
A week ago, Emma phoned me.

She told me that she was almost killed
in a series of accidents.

You don't seem surprised.

I said we were close, ma'am.

I knew things were happenin'

even when she wouldn't talk about it.

It started a few weeks back,

right after she got the offer
to sell this place.

To Danny Briggs?

Danny Briggs, as poor a piece of work
as God ever made.

"Impresario," he calls himself.
Young hustler if you ask me.

Wants to turn this lovely old place

into a "rock palace,"
I think they call it.

Well, naturally, herself
wouldn't even consider it.

Archie Weems must have been furious.

Are you suggestin'
that Archie is a killer?

Not likely.

Wouldn't have the stomach for it.

But his wife, Violet...

now, there's one who'd make Lady Macbeth
seem like a flower girl.

Good manhood, be not forgot
upon the face of the earth,

then I am a shotten herring!

[chuckles]

There lives but--

Break a leg, Sir.

Thank you, Bridget.

You look absolutely smashing.

Ah.

I feel like a soggy tea bag.

I don't know about all this.
It's been a while, you know.

Machinery's gettin' a bit rusty.

Dad, you're going to be wonderful.

Hello.

Hello, Mrs. Fletcher.

Wondered where you'd popped off to.

Well, I've just been poking around.

This is such a fascinating old place.

I wonder, you two wouldn't have
a few minutes, would you?

There's so much I'd like to catch up on.

I'm sorry, Mrs. Fletcher,
but Dad has an appointment, and--

Oh, Kitty.

Dad, we're late already.

Give us a moment.

Forgive that snap in her voice,
Mrs. Fletcher.

Sometimes, Kitty's like
a faithful watchdog.

Well, it's obvious that she adores you.

[chuckles]

Look here. If I'm a bit
standoffish, I do apologize.

It's just the resemblance
to Emma is so remarkable.

I'm sorry. I'm making
a bit of a fool of myself.

Kitty's right.

After 15 years,
it's time I got on with me life.

Dad!

If you'll excuse me.

Taxi!

You're nervous. Don't be.

I'm not nervous.

Look, darling, would you mind

if I go to this
director's office by myself?

Are you sure? I don't mind, really.

Auditioning at my age,
it's positively humiliating.

All right.

Look, I thought I'd check out
some travel agents.

Next weekend, you and I should get away.
Maybe a little inn near Brighton.

Sounds like marvelous fun.

Call you this evening.

Right, well, call me if you hear anything.

Mrs. Fletcher?

Oh, no, no more, thanks.

Inspector, you don't suppose
whoever's behind this

suspects what we're up to?

Oh, I shouldn't think so.

I think our would-be killer
thinks Emma MacGill

really did have that fatal accident.

His or her guard should be down.

But not Emma's, I hope.

You know, I really worry about her
being in that Streatham hideaway.

Now, she's perfectly safe.
Fielding's with her.

You know, maybe we ought
to take a look around

the Chelsea road flat.

I mean, we might find something...

a clue, a lead, anything.

What sort of clue?

Well, I haven't the vaguest idea.

That's the house.

Look!

[engine revs]

Oh, Lord!

[tires squealing]

Keep back! I'm a police officer.

It's Bridget O'Hara.

Her name is Bridget O'Hara.

She works as a dresser
at the Mayhew theater.

She was struck
by a small sports car, yellow.

Excuse me, inspector.
We've got Mr. Fielding on the line.

The ambulance is on the way, Sir.

Right, carry on.

Jessica.

Hello, Mr. Fielding?

Inspector Crimmins here.

Afraid I've got some very bad news.

Bridget O'Hara's been killed by a car.

Oh, no, really?

Poor woman.

What-what do you think?
Do you think it was an accident?

There's no question it was deliberate.

I'm afraid this deception
has gone far enough.

I'd like you and miss MacGill at my office
as soon as possible.

Mrs. Fletcher.

Oh, Mr. Weems.

Bridget, I can't believe it.

Run down in the street, deliberate too.

Yes, I'm afraid it was.

Look here. Tell me straight.

I hear Emma's okay,
that there never was no accident.

And who told you that?

Sergeant pal of mine tells me just now
when he sees me come in.

Well, it's true. Emma is alive.

Bloody hell. What's going on?

The coat that Bridget was wearing,

in the lining,
there were the initials "E.M."

Bridget was leaving Emma's house
wearing Emma's coat.

In the darkness,
the killer probably assumed

that it was Emma.

I'm puzzled.

Why was Bridget wearing Emma's coat?

Wouldn't know, unless--

Was it by chance Emma's leopard coat?

Yes, it was.

Sure, I get it.

Emma promised that coat to Bridget.

There was no secret about it.

Maybe Bridget decided to grab it

before the lawyers
started muckin' things up.

A very reasonable explanation, Mr. Weems.

May I ask what you're doing here?

It's no secret.

Pal of mine on The Standard
told me about Bridget.

I also got tipped

you've got Emma stashed away
healthy as you please.

I'd keep that information to yourself.

Come on, Jessica. We're paying a visit.

To Emma? Do you mind if I tag along?

Like to see how the old girl's doing.

Ah, sergeant Barbury,
this gentleman has a statement to make

in the O'Hara accident.

Take it all down, will you?

Shouldn't take more than a half hour.

-Right.
-Here, you can't do this!

This way, Sir.

What happened?

I thought that Emma
was gonna meet us here.

Fielding called.

Says she's terrified to leave the flat.

I did promise that coat to Bridget.

But why did she feel she had to take it?

She must have thought
she'd been left out of the will.

And so the killer,

seeing her hurry down the steps
wearing the leopard coat,

assumed Bridget was Emma, and--

The question is, inspector,
why make that assumption?

Everyone believed that Emma was dead.

The killer must have known
that Emma was alive.

Are you suggesting I was indiscreet?

Security has been breached by someone.

Emma?

Oh, Jessica, I-I feel like such a fool.

Then you did talk to someone.

Well, uh, not directly.

I was so worried about Oliver,

especially after Ernest told me

he was so poorly about everything.

I called him up at the flat
and left a message

on his answering machine.

Oh, bloody marvelous!

Now, Oliver wouldn't harm me.

No, but he might have dropped

a careless word to somebody else.

And before you knew it,

half of London's in on our little secret.

I don't suppose you told him this address?

Well, of course not!

Thank God for that.

Inspector, aren't we getting
a little ahead of ourselves?

After all, we don't know
that Oliver heard the message.

Huh. What's his address?

84 Cumberland Mews.

Mm-hmm.

Jessica, we better pay him a visit.

I'll also be posting
a 24-hour surveillance

outside these premises.

-Is that necessary?
-Oh, it is.

Not only for miss MacGill's protection,

but on the odd chance
that our killer makes another attempt,

we'll be waiting for him.

Where is he?

Archie'll be here.

Taking his own sweet time about it.

Look, if this is another stall...

I only know what he said.

"Call Danny Briggs," he says.
"I've got news."

Well, maybe he's made some arrangement
with that American cousin.

Funny.

I got the feeling she wouldn't
be an easy nut to crack.

She's got no use for this place.

And with a handsome profit
to be made, she'll sell.

I wouldn't count on that, love.

She's alive.

Who?

Emma! Who'd you think I meant?

Oh, that's crazy, Archie.

She's hiding out.

The whole thing was a stunt.

Seems someone's been
trying to put her away.

Not me.

I said "someone," Briggs.

I named no names.

But I warn you, I draw the line at murder.

So do I, Archie.

But I'm gonna have that woman's signature
on a contract.

My partners can be
very unpleasant gentlemen,

even violent.

And if someone's gonna get hurt,
it won't be me.

Fact is, I haven't seen Mr. Trumbull
since early this morning.

He was off to services
at the theater, of all places.

Mm-hmm.

Some people got no sense of propriety.

Yeah, and you say
he's not returned here all day?

Said I hadn't heard him.

'Course, I been back in the kitchen a lot
watchin' the telly.

Many's a tenant comes and goes
without me knowin'.

Hasn't done anything wrong,
has he, sergeant?

I do like the old chap.

Yeah, actually, it's, uh, inspector.

Oh!

And we'll let ourselves out.

No need to get testy, Sir.

I can take a hint.

Right, thank you very much.

Look at this, inspector.

Hmm?

The Southgate theater,
about 20 years ago.

"Oliver Trumbull as King Lear."

Shakespearean actor, eh?

Hardly seems possible.

Let's take a listen to this
answering device, shall we?

Trumbull? Ned Wiley here.

Sorry I missed you at the office.

About the audition,
we're pretty much cast.

But if you would like to pop
into the lobby

of the Cumberland around 9:00,
I'll have a look at you.

No promises, of course.
It's up to you.

-Emma's call must be earlier.
-Mmm.

[Emma over speakers]
Oliver, it's me, love.

I heard about how upset
you were this morning,

and I'm dreadfully sorry
to put you through this.

I'm safe and well,
and that's all I can say for now.

Please don't tell anyone
you've heard from me,

or I'll be in terrible danger.

Go thy ways, old Jack.

Die if thou wilt.

If manhood, good manhood,

be not forgot--

Excuse me, young man.

I'll just consult the text.

Yes, but please hurry.

Not to worry, dear boy,
just a momentary lapse.

I have it.

-Uh, if-
[muttering]

If manhood--

If manhood, good manhood,
be not forgot upon the face of the earth,

then I am a shotten herring.

There lives but three good men
unhanged in England.

One of 'em's fat... and grows old.

Yes, yes. Thank you, Mr. Trumbull.

I have not finished!

I've heard quite enough, thanks.

Young man, you paid me the courtesy
to give me an audition.

You don't have the manners to hear me out?

Look, old-timer, courtesy had
nothing to do with it.

You accost me in my hotel lobby.

You plead for a tryout.

Well, you got one,
and, frankly, you won't do.

Oh, some years ago,

I'm sure you would have made
an adequate Falstaff.

Adequate?

Doth my Lord comfort me?

Came he right now to sing a raven's note,

whose dismal tune bereft my vital powers.

And thinks he that the chirping of a wren

by crying comfort from a hollow breast

could chase away
the first conceived sound!

Hide not thy poison
with such sugared words.

-Oh!
-Lay not thy hands on me!

Forbear, I say!

Their touch affrights me
as a serpent's sting!

All right, everyone.

Places, places for the first scene.

Dad!

Oh, Mrs. Fletcher.

Forgive me.

I'm distressed you were witness
to such an embarrassment.

Oh, Mr. Trumbull,
the embarrassment was not yours,

believe me.

You were magnificent.

Magnificent and unemployed.

Is there somewhere we can go and talk?

As it so happens,

there's a friendly pub
just round the corner.

Follow me, ladies.

Emma, alive?

Very much alive.

Mrs. Fletcher,
is this some sort of a joke?

That inspector said her body
had been washed up

on a beach near Portsmouth.

Well, inspector Crimmins was helping us
to create an illusion.

Emma's in hiding
under the protection of the police.

You see, over the past few weeks,

several attempts
have been made on her life.

That car in the alleyway,
I knew that was no accident.

Jessica, I must see her immediately.

Well, I'm afraid that is not possible.

-The hell you say.
-Dad!

Kitty, keep out of this.

Forgive me, madam.

But first, you tell me that Bridget O'Hara
was killed last night.

And then, as if that were not enough,

you suddenly reincarnate
dear Emma from a watery grave.

I call that bloody unfeeling of you!

Dad, calm down.

Mr. Trumbull, I'm sorry,
but I'm surprised that you didn't know

that Emma was alive.

After all, she telephoned you
late yesterday.

What?

The message was on your answering machine.

I didn't hear it.

I didn't go home.

Oh?

I spent the afternoon cooling me heels
in the office of that fool director.

When I didn't get to see him,
I camped out in the hotel lobby.

When finally I managed to collar him,
I practically begged him for an audition.

He didn't remember my Romeo at the Globe.

-Mind you, it was some years ago.
-I found him in the lounge around 12:30,

half awake, a room key
dangling from his pocket.

It was the only way I could
get a drink after 11:00.

I booked a room.

So I put him to bed
for the rest of the night.

I see.

So you went directly
from the director's office

to the hotel lobby,

then to the lounge, and then to bed?

Dull but true.

I'm sorry, Mr. Trumbull.

I heard that taped message
from the director

asking you to meet him in the hotel lobby.

Now, that was on the same tape

as Emma saying
that she was alive and well.

I mean, you couldn't possibly have heard
one and not the other.

My thoughts precisely.

Oliver Trumbull,
I'm placing you under arrest

for the murder of Bridget O'Hara.

-No!
-I'm sorry, miss.

Officer.

Bridget O'Hara
was struck by that car at 8:15.

The director suggested you
meet him at the hotel lobby at 9:00.

Is that right?

Yes! I told you so!

Well, that's a difference of 45 minutes.

Ample time for you to get
from Chelsea road to the Cumberland.

I told you. I did not hear that message!

Oh, yeah, you just happened
to be at the hotel.

I overheard his secretary
book a table for him

in the Cumberland Hotel dining room.

I knew if I waited in the lobby
long enough,

he'd be bound to show up.

I was there from 7:30 till 11:00,

which can be verified
by the porter and the concierge.

I was paged for a phone call
from me daughter.

They remember the call, Mr. Trumbull,
and they remember you.

But they can't verify
the time you were there.

[knock]

Come in.

This is a ghastly joke.

Oliver loved Emma.

He'd never try to hurt her.

I wish I could believe that.

You would if you knew him.

Do you know how hard this is for me?

Very sorry, Kitty.

Your father will be formally charged
tomorrow morning.

No! He was in the hotel!

I phoned him there at 8:00.

There's no way he could have
been in two places at once.

The concierge confirmed
your call, miss Trumbull.

9:00, not 8:00.

He's wrong.

Kitty, lying will not help the problem.

I have an appointment in an hour
with a very capable barrister,

a fine fellow.

Believe me, your father will have
the best defense possible.

May I see him?

Yes.

All right, step this way.

Inspector, I'd like to talk to Emma.

Yeah, might be a good idea.

[tires screeching]

[crashing]

-Here! What's the matter with you?
-Are you blind?

Did you see you ran
right into the back of this--

Where did you learn how to drive?

Get your hands off me!

I'm a police officer.

[voices overlapping]

[knocking]

Who is it?

Constable Barnes, miss MacGill.

Oh!

Take it easy.

I don't wanna hurt you.

I just wanna talk.

We've nothing to talk about, Mr. Briggs.

Oh, we do, lady, plenty.

Except talk's not all I've come for.

The time for playin' games is over.

I'm here to get your signature
on this bill of sale.

Oh, no!

Don't tell me "no"!

I've got people to answer to,

people that'll peel away my hide
if I don't deliver!

So you'll sign.

Oh, you will sign,

or I'll get the place from your cousin
after you're dead and gone.

So who's gonna pay
for my bleeding car then?

Not me!

You need a seeing eye dog, you do.

I want you to wait here
for about five minutes.

Inspector!

[voices overlapping]

[engine starts]

Emma?

Emma, it's Jessica!

-Jessica!
-Shut up!

Emma!

Get back.

Miss MacGill?

Inspector Crimmins. Open up.

[clattering]

Emma?

I'm all right, Jessica,
but I can't say the same for him.

Well done, miss MacGill.

Thompson.

A nice bit of work.

Or, perhaps not?

Well, what is it, Jessica?

Yeah. We've got our man.

You should be delighted.

Our man? No, inspector.

I'm sorry to say we don't.

Jessica, I'm not sure
how you arranged me release,

but-- Oh! I shall be eternally grateful.

Well, thank inspector Crimmins.
It was his decision.

Seventeen years I've trod these boards.

Oh, it was grand,

especially back then
when they knew that we were here.

This old place would sing
with laughter and music...

And music.

Dad!

Oh, Kitty, darlin'. There, now.

I can't believe it. They let you go.

That's right, Kitty.

We've identified the real killer
of Bridget O'Hara.

Identified? Not arrested?

Not yet.

You see, both the inspector
and I would like the killer

to come forward voluntarily.

It will make things
so much easier for her.

Her?

But I thought that Danny Briggs
was the one who--

No, not Danny.
The killer was someone else,

someone who had a very personal reason
for killing Emma MacGill

and ran down Bridget
in the mistaken belief

that she was killing Emma.

What's all this about?

You see, one thing seemed strange

about those three earlier attempts
on Emma's life.

They happened on consecutive weekends,

as if they had been attempted
by someone who worked and lived

elsewhere during the week.

You telephoned your father
at the Cumberland, Kitty.

The concierge said 9:00?

He's a liar. I called at 8:00.

8:00 or 9:00 is not the point.

How did you know where to find him?

What?

You did not go with him
to the director's office.

You went shopping,

and then to the travel agent
to arrange your seaside holiday.

There's no possible way
you could have known

that he was going to be
in the lobby of the Cumberland,

unless you had heard that phone message.

Kitty?

Don't listen to her! Dad--

Jessica.

I'm so sorry, Oliver.

This gives me no pleasure, believe me.

But, you see, if Kitty had heard
that director's message,

then she must have also heard
Emma's message.

Now, she had no way of knowing
that Emma was hiding out

at the Streatham flat,

so she drove to Emma's Chelsea Road house.

As she arrived,
Bridget, dressed in Emma's coat,

came out and started across the street.

All right!

All right.

Why, Kitty?

Emma never harmed you.

But she was destroying you, dad.

Or couldn't you see it?

You were so magnificent

with a God-given gift
that you-you prostituted

to become a second-rate music hall comic.

You couldn't break away.

Every year, you got weaker
and more dependent

while I stood there and watched.

You couldn't help yourself, dad,
but I could.

Don't you see?

I had to kill her for you.

Kitty.

And I wouldn't have
let you go to jail, I swear.

I know that, darlin'.

I know that.

Oh, dad.

Oh, Kitty.