All language subtitles for The.Mirror.Crackd.1980

They're waiting for you
in the drawing room, sir.

Thank you, Barnsby.

Oh, Barnsby?

I'd rather like you to join us,
if you don't mind.

Have you found
Lady Ridgeley's jewels?

Yes, Inspector.
Have you found my Cabochon ruby?

No, Your Ladyship,
but I have found something else.

The identity of Lord Fenley's murderer.

Inspector, you're not trying to imply

that one of us could have... actually
performed such a loathsome deed?

It's quite ridiculous.
I simply don't believe it.

Not only do I believe it,
Mr Montrose,

but I have the evidence
to prove it.

All of you had sufficient motive.

It could have been...
any one of you.

You, Sir Derek, have been falsifying
the accounts of Fenley Industries

with the help
of your son-in-law, Mr Foxwell.

And you were also aware
that Lady Ridgeley

was having an affair with Lord Fenley,
which ended abruptly

when he resumed his dalliance

with Lady Foxcroft.

You see, she had stumbled
upon the knowledge

that Barnsby was in truth
Lord Fenley's half-brother

and the illegitimate father
of Mr Peter Montrose,

who was planning
to gain control of Fenley Industries

with the help of Mr Da Silva,

who risked bankruptcy
if the plot failed.

Yes, you all had motives.

Any one of you could have done it.

But only one of you did.

A person sitting in this room?

At this very moment?

Yes, Miss Kate.

In this very room.

Inspector, this ridiculous cat-and-mouse
game has gone on long enough!

Very well, then.

Lord Fenley's murderer...

Oh dear, oh dear.
Lights, Mr Paycock, please.

I'll have it fixed in no time.
No time at all.

I would say that's highly unlikely.

Oh, dear.

Now we'll never know who did it.

It does seem rather obvious
who the murderer was.

Who, Miss Marple?
Do tell us. Was it Sir Derek?

I hardly think so, Miss Giles.

It's unlikely he would have murdered
his business partner,

not while he only had
49% of the business.

The interest would have reverted
to Lord Fenley's sister,

a bitter enemy of Sir Derek's.

I'll bet it was
that young blaggard Lord Peter.

Ah, impossible, Major.
Excuse me, dear.

The only tracks leading to Lord Fenley's
estate that evening were bicycle tracks.

But he hated Lord Fenley.

Yes, but you forget,
young Peter had a birth defect,

which caused a malfunction
to the inner ear.

This loss of equilibrium in his system
would have made it impossible for him

to maintain his balance
on a bicycle.

Good night, Major.

Excuse me, Mrs Morley-Smith.

- Good night, Dolly.
- Good night, Jane.

- I still say it was that awful butler.
- Hmm.

It was Barnsby,
don't you think, Miss Marple?

- I most certainly do not.
- But the revolver in his drawer?

Mr Foxley, Barnsby had never been
to Lord Fenley's estate.

The footprints on the night of the murder
led to the bedroom off the left wing

where Lord Fenley
frequently sought privacy.

Whoever killed him
knew how to go directly to that room.

Well, then who did do it, Miss Marple?

Who murdered Lord Fenley?

Why, young Miss Kate, of course.

Why do you say Miss Kate?

Because when the body of Lord Fenley
was discovered,

the knife was firmly implanted
in the chest to the left.

A right-handed person
would have clearly been unable

to strike such a thrust
in that direction.

If you'd looked closely,
you would have noticed

that Miss Kate was twirling her pearls
in her left hand.

Good night, Vicar. I'm sure you'll have
this contraption running in no time.

Good night, all.

She could be wrong, you know.

She's not.

I've seen the picture.

Well, I never
would have guessed that ending.

I mean, that girl, she looked so nice.

Human nature, Cherry dear.

The world of the cinema, the village,
it's all quite the same, really.

Listen to me, Marty.

I don't care what those tea-guzzling
limey sons of bitches are demanding,

those tea-guzzling limey sons of bitches
are gonna make this picture a hit, Marty.

So stop playing around
and give them what they want!

Look, I don't wanna argue with you.

I'm the director and if I want three dozen
poker-playing kangaroos with PhDs,

then you'd better go out
and find them.

- Do I make myself clear?
- 'Absolutely.'

'How's Marina?'

Marina?

She's just fine, Marty.

Thank you, Bates.

Thank you, Bates.

Mrs Bantry, I really must apologise.

Marina's had to go
for a costume fitting up to town.

Miss Gregg was particularly anxious

that I should tell you how sorry she is
to have missed you today.

Of course.
I quite understand.

By the way,
what picture are you over here to make?

It's called "Mary Queen of Scots".

Really?

How very interesting.

Marina was especially keen for me
to double-check with you personally

all the arrangements
for the village fête.

She's terrified no one's gonna come.

We are rather intruders here.

My dear Miss Zielinsky,

Miss Gregg's arrival
has caused considerable excitement.

It's not every day we have a real-life
film star and her director husband

living here at St Mary Mead.

Oh, Jason,
we were just talking about you.

Mr Rudd, Mrs Bantry.

- Mrs Bantry.
- How do you do?

I cannot tell you how happy my wife
and I are to be in your house.

Oh, Mr Rudd, you must get it
out of your head that this is my house.

After the Colonel, my husband, died,
it was much too big for me.

And I'm much more comfortable
down at the lodge.

Well, I... I really must be on my way.

- Would you like some more tea?
- Oh, no more tea, thank you.

- Very nice to have met you, Mr Rudd.
- Very nice to meet you.

Oh, no, no, no. Please, please.

I, er...
I think I can find my own way out.

Give my regards to your wife.
Goodbye, Miss Zielinsky.

Mrs Bantry.

Where's Marina?

Upstairs. Out like a light.

- Is she taking those damn pills again?
- Well, if you shake her, she rattles.

I want her to be happy.
God knows, she's been through enough.

She'll be happy. Till she gets bored
playing the lady of the manor.

Ella!

Sorry.

Don't spoil it.

OK?

OK.

Hello.

Now, boys.
Don't drink this too quickly.

Otherwise, you're going
to have very sore tummies.

Quite a turn-out.

More like Buckingham Palace
than Gossington Hall.

Mind you, it plays havoc
with the lawn.

Ah, good afternoon,
Mrs Bantry, Miss Giles.

Good afternoon, Major, Jane.

Darling. Miss Giles.

Do you think she'll come down?

Who?

Marina Gregg, the film star.
Really, Miss Marple!

Well, I don't know anything
about film stars, Miss Giles,

but if this gathering
is any indication of her local interest,

I'm sure that Miss Gregg
won't disappoint her fans.

I do hope not.

I'm sure Mr Foxley,
our dear postman,

will herald her arrival
with suitable fanfare.

Steady, boys. Steady.
Don't rush. Don't rush!

Oh, Miss Marple,
you were right!

Can you turn this way, please?
Just one more?

Excuse me! Thank you.

- Mrs Babcock?
- Yes?

Miss Gregg would like to thank
those of you that worked so hard.

- Perhaps you'd like to come to the hall.
- Oh, yes. Yes, indeed!

Oh, I'd be absolutely thrilled!
Thank you very much!

Oh, isn't it exciting?
You know, Wendy...

Yes, I know.
You met her once.

Oh!

Major, ladies, we'd be honoured if you'd
join us at the house for refreshments.

- Yes, indeed. Most kind.
- We'd be delighted.

Wouldn't we?

She's so beautiful.

But not much of a shot, is she?

Oh, thank you, my friends.

My new, dear, wonderful,
sweet friends, thank you.

Marina.

Oh, Jason's screaming for you.
Your guests are piling up.

Oh, but I'm having such fun.

Try a little restraint.

Perhaps I could borrow
some of yours.

We seem to be sharing
so much these days.

Now, boys and girls,
on your marks.

Ready, steady, go!

Roy! Come here.
Come here, Roy!

Come here, boy.
Come along. That's a good boy.

Sit. There.

Freddie! Freddie Hawkins! Would you
kindly take control of your dog?

You know perfectly well
he should be held on his lead.

Sorry, Miss Marple.

Roy! Roy!

Oh, Miss Marple!
Oh, goodness.

Are you all right?

That'll teach me to be dogmatic.

- Can I have one?
- Thank you very much.

Thank you.

- Can I have a spoon?
- Here.

Oh. I assure you, Dr Haydock,
I'm perfectly all right.

Perhaps you'd care
to join the egg-and-spoon race.

It's just about to start.

You had a nasty fall.

Nonsense!
I'm not even shaken.

In fact, I'm amazed nothing's broken.
You got away with just a sprain.

I never did discover the secret
of your bone structure.

Long brisk walks
as a young woman, I expect.

Well, you're not
walking anywhere for a few days.

I'll run you back in my car.
That's it.

I'll fill you in on all the gossip
you'll be missing up at the hall

when I call round to see you tomorrow.

Gossip? I prefer to call it
a healthy interest in human nature.

- Er... Cherry?
- Yes, Mr Bates.

See to that lot upstairs, will you?

They're doing their best
to drink us dry.

I'm afraid, Miss Gregg,
that it would seem that our committee

have always felt that your films
are a little, how shall I say,

risqué for our monthly soirée
in the village hall.

How sweet of you.

Uh, your lemonade, Vicar.

Oh, thank you. Most kind.

Uh, Marina honey, the mayor is upstairs.
I think you should...

- Oh, yeah, yeah. Do excuse me.
- Yes.

Excuse me.

Is this your first visit
to the United Kingdom, Mr Rudd?

Why, no, I've been...

Oh, what a divine necklace!

Well done, Mr Rudd.
First-rate show.

Ah, Mrs Babcock.

Mrs Babcock is our untiring secretary.

The Women's Institute
would be quite lost without her.

I'm sure she's been wonderful.

Now, Miss Giles.
How about your cat?

- I keep forgetting its name.
- Matthew.

- That's right!
- Your dear wife had a cat.

Yes, but it always
suffered from eczema.

Carrots. Mashed carrots
and a little warm milk works wonders.

Marina? Mrs Babcock, Miss Gregg.
Miss Gregg, Mrs Babcock.

Mrs Babcock, how lovely to see you.

Oh... oh, Miss Gregg.

I know this is very silly,
and I'm sure you don't remember,

not with all the millions of people
you meet...

No, no, no, of course not!
How could you?

It was ages ago.
It was during the war.

I-I was in Plymouth
in the Wrens

and you came over
to entertain all those marvellous GIs.

Oh, I remember it so well.
Just like it was yesterday.

I told you I lost my borage,
last year in the frost?

I'm sorry about that.
You know what to do, don't you?

Cut it right down to the ground in the...

Oh, Mr Rudd, I understand
that you are a film producer.

Oh, no, sir. A director.

Is there any difference?

Yes, sir.

The, er... producer
supplies all the money.

The director spends it.

Then the producer yells that the director
is spending too much money.

The director doesn't pay attention
and goes right on spending.

The director gets all the credit.
The producer gets an ulcer.

You see, it's all very simple.
Excuse me.

It's Lola Brewster!

- It is?
- Yes!

Miss Brewster!

Uh-oh.

Mary Queen of Sluts and
Baby Bernhardt under the same roof.

That's all we need.

Miss Brewster, look this way.

Oh, I was so thrilled.

Absolutely thrilled.

You were wearing
that wonderful blue sparkling dress.

Do you remember what you sang?

"I'll Be Seeing You."

Oh, I was a mad fan of yours.

How sweet.
How absolutely, perfectly sweet.

Oh, but then
the most awful thing happened.

Or I thought it was awful.

I was terribly upset.

Do you mean to say
you actually met Clark Gable?

Is he married at the moment or is it
just a rumour that he's a lonely person?

- Jason.
- The fellow with the big ears?

Oh, Major.

- Lola's here.
- What?

- Marty brought her.
- Why in the hell did he bring her here?

I wasn't ill, just poorly.
You know what I mean?

Then I had this idea.

You see,
I didn't have a ticket or anything.

Save it for the Oscars.

But this is the most extraordinary part.

You'll never guess who my uncle was.

He was the stage door keeper.
Now isn't...

Jason, darling!

My Svengali!

- Glad you could make it.
- Where is sweet Marina?

Jason, baby.
Nice spread you got here.

I ought to spread you across this room
for bringing her here.

Publicity, Bubbie.

That's what keeps
Martin N Fenn Productions in business.

So there I was in the theatre
standing in the wings.

It was my first time there.
It was so exciting.

Oh, you were wonderful!

And when the curtain came down,
you gave me your autograph

and you let me kiss you.

Oh, yes, you did!

Oh, it was worth it a hundred times.
I've never forgotten it...

I do believe it was
the most exciting day of my life.

What a nice little story, dear.
Now what will you have to drink?

Jason makes a wonderful daiquiri.
You'll adore it.

Thank you.

- Honey.
- Oh, Jason, darling.

- We'd like two of your special daiquiris.
- Sure.

- Are you all right?
- I'm fine, Jinks.

- Are you sure?
- Yes.

Thanks, Miss Brewster.

Marina, darling!
I didn't see you.

Why, Lola.
What a delightful surprise.

You're looking as lovely as always.

Of course,
there are fewer lights on than usual.

In fact, any fewer
and I'd need a seeing-eye dog.

Oh, I shouldn't bother to buy one, dear.

In that wig you could play Lassie.

Same adorable sense of humour.

And I'm so glad to see
you not only kept your gorgeous figure,

but you've added so much to it.

What are you doing here so early, dear?

I thought the plastic surgery seminar
was in Switzerland.

Actually, darling,
I couldn't wait to begin our little movie.

You know the saying,
"Once an actress, always an actress."

Oh, I do know the saying.

But what does it have
to do with you?

Cute angel.

So do tell.

How does it feel to be back
after being away so long?

Love your outfit, darling.

Drink, Mrs Babcock?

Mr Rudd is getting me one himself,
thank you.

What are you supposed to be,
a birthday cake?

Too bad everybody's had a piece.

Can we have a big smile,
please, ladies?

Chin up, darling.
Both of them.

A bit closer, please, ladies.

Lola, dear, you know there really
are only two things I dislike about you.

- Really? What are they?
- Your face.

Thank you.

One daiquiri special.

Oh! Oh, thank you very much.

- I've never really tried one before.
- Enjoy it.

- Here you are, my dear.
- Oh, thank you, darling.

Now then, how are
my two favourite stars getting along?

What are you trying to do, Marty,
give Marina another breakdown?

Why would I wanna do a thing like that?

Come on.

Remember they used to grind glass
in each other's cold cream?

One would only kiss the other
if she had viral pneumonia.

They're professionals,
they take their job seriously.

So did Attila the Hun.

- Marina, baby!
- Oh, Marty, darling.

How thoughtful of you
to bring Lola to my party.

You know,
I-I-I've always thought of Lola

as one of my oldest,
oldest friends.

Jason, darling, I'm certainly looking
forward to working under you again.

Watch it, Lola.

Jason, how about a drink
with an old pal?

- I only drink with friends.
- What am I, chopped chicken liver?

Bad enough forcing me to use your wife
in this picture, but bringing her here?

- Think of the picture!
- I am thinking of the picture!

- And the sanity of my leading lady!
- Listen to me. She's gonna be fine.

- I'm looking out for our best interests.
- Our best interests?

Hey, De Mille,
why don't you face reality?

When was the last time Marina
made a movie? The advent of sound?

When did you direct a movie
that was any damn good?

- Well...
- Listen to me.

If Martin N Fenn wants to get publicity
for his two leading ladies,

he's gonna get it,
without any dissent

because the esteemed director
and his wife

are only here
because of his good wishes.

And if he wishes, he can pull the plug
any time he wants. You got it?

- Whoopee.
- Good.

So go, relax and enjoy the party.

- You know what?
- What?

- You're a bastard.
- 'Course I'm a bastard. I'm the producer.

Oh, Mr Rudd!

I've reached some understanding
about the difference

between a producer and a director.

But who chooses the leading lady?

Whoever's sleeping with her.

Er... Vicar, may I introduce
our noted producer Mr Martin N Fenn?

I'm sure he'll tell you everything
you wanna know.

What would you like to know,
Vicar, baby?

- I'm sorry about your ulcers, Mr Fenn.
- What?

Jason, we've got a problem upstairs.
That woman...

And then the police came.
They took everybody's name.

They kept us there for hours, they did.
I just couldn't believe it.

I mean, she seemed as right as rain.

She was only five years older than me.

There was an awful flap.

Poor Mrs Babcock.

I mean, she just had one drink
and then about five minutes later,

she sits down, sort of gasps...

...and then she's dead, poor thing.

What do you think of that?

Don't forget under the curtains,
Cherry dear.

- Miss Marple, I hope you don't mind.
- Mind?

Well, me doing Saturdays
up at the hall.

I did so want
to see all those film stars.

- It's not going to upset you?
- No, Cherry dear. It won't upset me.

In fact, it might even prove useful.

Really?

Put that duster away and sit down
and tell me everything that happened.

- Well...
- Exactly as it happened.

Well, I was moving about.

Yes, of course,
but what precisely did you see?

Well...

'The whole village was there,
of course.

'And there was a girl taking pictures.
Well, just about everybody.

'There, there was Marina Gregg
and her husband

'Oh, I liked him.
I think he's smashing.'

- 'Cherry, dear.
- 'Oh, sorry.

'Then, then the secretary girl
came up with Heather Babcock

'and Heather shook hands
with Miss Gregg

'and then she went into a boring old story
about how they'd met years ago.

'On and on she went.

'I thought Miss Gregg
was gonna fall asleep.'

Honestly, she did go on, so.

Then a few minutes later,
you served Heather a drink

and not long afterwards she dies.

Oh, no.
No, I didn't serve her.

'It was Mr Rudd.'

- One daiquiri special.
- Oh, thank you.

Enjoy it.

'I don't think
she really liked it.'

Thank you, Cherry dear.
You've been very helpful.

- Have I?
- Extremely.

Oh, good.

Oh, I'll get it.

- Morning, Cherry.
- Morning, Doctor.

Morning, Miss Marple. How's the leg?

Good morning, Dr Haydock.
You know, I think it's very much better.

Shall I do upstairs now
or finish here in the lounge?

This is the drawing room, Cherry dear.

Sorry. Drawing room.

- Upstairs, I think.
- Right.

Oh, later on,
I'll bring you in a nice cup of tea.

Poor Heather Babcock.

Mm.

She was a patient of yours,
wasn't she?

She was on my list.

Heart trouble?

Nothing wrong with her heart.

- Which does rather...
- Stick out your tongue. Say, "Aah".

- Aah.
- Put it back.

Which does rather suggest poison.

I think we should leave that
to the coroner, don't you?

I'm glad to see you started
my treatment.

Treatment?

Unravelling, aren't I, right?

You will have your little joke,
Dr Haydock. Hmm.

You can't pull the wool
over my eyes, dear lady.

I mean, look at you.

Your cheeks are pink.
Your eyes bright.

You're enjoying yourself.
Isn't that so?

Dr Haydock, I would be very distressed
if I thought you believed

that the only excitement
in my life

was predicated on the unfortunate fate
of helpless victims

who somehow seem to fall into my path.

Upon examination, the deceased's body

was found to contain
massive traces of a barbiturate.

Phenobarbital.
Unquestionably the cause of death.

Had she a medical history, which such
a drug could have been prescribed?

Er... virtually none, sir.

Apart from chickenpox as a child
and German measles during the war.

According to her doctor,
she was in excellent health.

Thank you.

Bearing in mind the evidence
we have heard,

I have no choice but to record a verdict
of murder by poisoning

at the hand of person
or persons unknown.

- Dermot!
- Hello, Aunt Jane.

Hmm. My favourite nephew.

What a pleasant surprise.

- What are you doing here?
- Why, I've come to see you.

Or to enquire about Heather Babcock.

What would a chief inspector from
Scotland Yard be doing in St Mary Mead

if poor Heather
had died of natural causes?

Well, he might have been passing by

and suddenly had a craving
for some of your special peach jam.

Now, Dermot, you know very well
I haven't made peach jam

since Taphrina deformans
attacked my Russell reds.

Now come and sit down
and let's have a little chat, shall we?

It was poison, wasn't it?

Aunt Jane, you wouldn't mind very much
I suppose if I anyway began

by asking the question, would you?

The poison was apparently
an American barbiturate,

marketed under the name
of Calmadon.

It appears
the principal ingredient of it is, er...

Phenylethylmalonylurea.

I know it well from my days at Bridge
Hampton Hospital during the war.

Mixed with alcohol,
it causes respiratory depression.

A drop in blood pressure.
Feeble heartbeat.

- Quite deadly, in fact.
- Hm.

And you naturally
knew the victim, Babcock?

Ooh, yes. Of course.

She was a simple soul.
Friendly enough.

A bit of a bore,
but you don't kill someone for that.

If you did,
there'd be no one left in the village.

Well...

You're not being much help, Aunt Jane.

No, I realise that.

So Mrs Babcock
refused your offer of a drink?

Yes, she said Mr Rudd was getting
her one. I told you that.

And Miss Gregg?

- It's funny you should say that.
- Funny?

Well, well, not funny.

Kind of strange, really.

Go on, Cherry. Slowly.
Try to remember everything.

Well... Well, it...

It was a sort of look
on Marina Gregg's face.

What kind of a look?

Sad? Angry?
Surprised? Frightened?

- I don't know.
- Dermot, really.

Cherry, dear, take your time.
Think back.

Try to remember the precise look.

Well, it was sort of...

...frozen.

'She was staring
over Heather Babcock's shoulder

'like she wasn't listening
to what she was saying.'

'Go on, dear.'

'She was looking towards the
stairs. There's a religious picture there.

'Then Lola Brewster arrived
with her husband, the producer.

'Funny man. Wouldn't be surprised
if he dyes his hair.

'The girl took a photo.

'Heather Babcock was rattling on

'and... and Miss Gregg
had this sort of strange frozen look.'

What specifically was she looking at?

The people? The picture?

Obviously one of the people.

Oh, why do you say that?

Well, really, Dermot,
I mean, she sees the picture every day.

Absolutely.

I'm so sorry, Aunt.

Er... now, how long did Miss Gregg
remain looking at that picture?

- The Lady of Shalott.
- Aunt Jane?

"Out flew the web and floated wide,
the mirror crack'd from side to side.

'''The curse has come upon me,'
cried The Lady of Shalott."

Tennyson, of course.

I do have a weakness
for Tennyson.

And it does seem
a rather suitable description.

Go on, Cherry dear.
Continue with your story.

Nothing much more to tell, really.

Lola Brewster came up to Miss Gregg.

I don't think they like each other much,
if you ask me.

They had some pictures taken.

Oh, and then Mr Rudd came up.

Oh, he's so handsome.

Cherry dear, we want to hear
about Mrs Babcock and Miss Gregg.

Did anything else happen?

No, I don't think I've left anything out.

Heather spilled her drink
and Miss Gregg walked away.

Spilled?

You say Heather spilled her drink?

Oh, yeah. Oh, didn't I say that?

Oh, I must have forgot.

'Oh, I am silly, aren't I?'

Oh! Oh! Miss Gregg!

- I'm so sorry.
- It's perfectly all right.

- Oh, will it stain?
- I-I'm sure not, I'm sure not.

- I'm so sorry.
- Here, take mine. I haven't touched it.

Oh, no, no. I couldn't.

Please, it's no problem.
I'll get another.

So...

Heather Babcock
drank from Marina Gregg's glass.

Fate was rather unkind
to poor Heather Babcock.

Seem we've been dealing
with the wrong murder.

I suggest you proceed
to Gossington Hall in the morning.

To put to use all those cunning skills
I've inherited from a certain relative?

You know, Dermot,
you really are my favourite nephew.

I'll let Mr Rudd know you're here, sir.

- Inspector Craddock?
- Yes.

Mr Rudd will be with you
as soon as he can,

but I'm afraid I must warn you,
he's awfully tied up.

Tied up?

Inspector, have you any idea
what making a movie entails?

We have wardrobe tests, we have
make-up tests, we have lighting tests.

- "Rainbows End."
- I beg your pardon?

Yes, it was Marina Gregg's
first Academy Award, wasn't it?

- Yes.
- Oh, I'll never forget that last scene.

So vivid, real.

Vulnerability, Miss Zielinsky.

Her modus operandi,
"Journey Home", "Paradise Road".

Absolute conviction.

And this indestructible ability
to make us care.

Now, they were facing this way.

- Inspector?
- I'm sorry.

- The guests when they were introduced.
- Yes, that's right.

Oh. Those eyes.

Violet. Mesmerising.

- Mm. It's a copy, of course.
- No, no, no, no.

I was referring to Miss Gregg's eyes.

Yes, my earliest memory of those eyes
was in "Tomorrow's Dawn".

She played a young socialite heiress
who came from...

Now, where was it she came from?

- Boston.
- Boston! That's right!

She came from Boston
and inherited land in California.

Inspector, do you mind...?

Do you remember that scene where
they threatened to dig up her land?

The way she stood up
to those gold miners,

that sweet, helpless young butterfly.

Tell me,
might I speak to her, please?

I'm sorry. She's resting.

Oh.

Well, perhaps later?

Perhaps.

But sweet, helpless young butterflies
do need their rest.

Oh! That snake-eyed
son of a bitch, Marty Fenn!

He always did have
the class of a toad!

And he's putting up the money
for your comeback, so calm down.

And putting that peroxide floozy
into my film!

And as the virgin queen!

She's in two lousy scenes,
neither of them with you.

Lola Brewster, actress!

If she's read the script,
I'd see a blister on her finger.

It's your picture all the way, sweetheart.

Nobody's gonna remember
anyone else in it.

Oh, Jinksy.
Do you really mean that?

I'll make sure of it.

Oh, God.
God, it has been so long.

You don't... you don't think
there's any chance I have lost it, do you?

Oh, you'll be better than ever.

I promise.

Oh. My love.

You're so good for me.

You always have been.

Oh, damn her! That bitch!

If you look at her carefully,

there's so many lines on her face,
you could drive a train on it!

Maybe I won't shoot her
through a filter.

Filter? Try using an Indian blanket!

You're gonna have
to dub her voice in too.

Or write a line in the script that
Elizabeth is from Hoboken, New Jersey.

Oh.

Bags, bags, go away.

Come right back on Doris Day.

- Hello?
- 'Jason, where the hell are you?'

Lola's been sitting here
for 20 minutes waiting for you.

She likes the feathers so much,
she wants them in the costume.

I told her, a queen only wears feathers
if he lives in Hollywood,

but she won't believe me.

'Jason, will you get
your ass over here?'

- I've been thinking, poopsie.
- Oh, that's a new experience!

Maybe we should bring in Alexander
for my hair.

Lamb chop, if I've told you once,
I've told you a thousand times.

Queen Elizabeth was bald.

- Not in this movie, she ain't.
- It's history.

So is Lola Brewster.

I'll be majestic.

Awesome.

Inspiring.

I'm going to wipe that cow
right off the screen.

Let's see, we're gonna need some
scenes with the two of us together,

so the world can see
how much younger and thinner I am.

Lola, baby,
Elizabeth and Mary never met.

Oh, maybe they meet
at the market.

No, of course not.
She'd never do her own shopping.

The beauty parlour?

No, they'd come to her.

Wait a minute.

I've got it.

I come to see her
at the Tower of London.

It's right before the beheading
and the rats are crawling all over her.

She's in rags, looking like shit.

And in walks...

...me.

Huh.

- Inspector, I do have things to do.
- Yes, yes. Of course.

Miss Gregg and Miss Brewster,
are they very close?

Close?

If you put the two of them together
in a tank with a shark,

the shark would have
an identity crisis.

Tell me, I'm curious. Who's younger?
Marina Gregg or Lola Brewster?

- Neither one.
- Bless you.

Oh.

- Oh. You all right?
- Hay fever.

Those are maddening things, allergies.

I'm allergic to wool.

I find a tranquiliser helps me.

I use a drug called Calmadon.
Do you know of it?

- We ship it in by the barrel.
- Oh.

Does Miss Gregg take it?

By the time this movie's over,
there may be a world shortage.

- Do you take it?
- Do I have a choice?

Ah, I think it must be very exciting
working for someone like Marina Gregg.

I'm sure she's a grand person.

Inspector, Marina Gregg

can make Medusa
look like St Bernadette.

Really?
Why don't you change your job?

- What, and quit show business?
- Mm-hm.

I used to work for Jason
before they were married.

I've learned to live
with her tantrums and her breakdowns.

Breakdowns? But the image
she projects on the screen is so rational.

Tell me about them.

- It's all rather turgid.
- No, really. I'm fascinated.

Well, you can't mention illness or
insanity or anything to do with children.

Really?
That's most interesting.

Why not?

Inspector, I really can't go into it.

I'm sure that Mr Rudd
is a tower of strength to her.

Devoted beyond the call of duty.

And Mr Fenn?

Marty Fenn is a producer.
He only lies when he speaks.

Hmm. I should think they've all been
pretty unsettled by the murder?

Murder?

Inspector, we have a picture to make.

We can't be bothered
by little local difficulties.

Ah, Mr Rudd.
Could I ask you a few questions?

I'm in a rush.
My secretary will arrange an interview.

But I'm not a reporter.

Mr Rudd?

Yes?

Tell him I'm on my way, damn it.
Ten minutes!

- Mr Rudd.
- I told you, not now.

I'm Inspector Craddock, Scotland Yard.

Everything we're doing
is according to form.

Using British crew, extras.
I've waivers on my two leading ladies.

- We're in total compliance.
- Mr Rudd, if I might interrupt you.

I'm sure you'll make a very fine picture
without the aid of Scotland Yard.

I happen to be here
on a minor matter of murder.

Oh, yes. Er... Miss, er...

Babcock, Heather Babcock.

I'm truly sorry.

If I might talk to your wife?

I'm sorry.
No one may see her.

She's resting. Doctor's orders.
Now if you'll excuse me.

Mr Rudd, it's very important
that I talk to her.

Inspector, my wife is about to start
the most important role of her career.

Every ounce of energy is being devoted
toward preparing this role.

She is going to win
her third Academy Award

and I will not distract her with...

Mundane matters like murder.

Whatever you say, Inspector.

- Jason...
- That's all very well and good.

I firmly believe your wife
deserves a third Oscar.

I think she should have got it
for "Summer Rain", actually.

But has it occurred to you
the death of Heather Babcock

wasn't entirely accidental?

That the intended victim was,
in fact, your wife?

Now may I see her, please?

No, you may not.

My wife has been through a lot and
I'm not only talking about last Saturday.

I'm sorry, but you're not going
to give her a nervous breakdown.

Now if you will excuse me.

I believe
she's had several already.

- Several what?
- Breakdowns.

- Who told you?
- I thought it was common knowledge.

Ah, it's nice of you
to let them play here.

What? Oh, the gardener's kids.

I thought they might
have upset Miss Gregg.

All right, Inspector.
Let's stop playing games.

There was a time years ago
when Marina wanted children. Badly.

The doctors told her she could
never have any, so she adopted two.

Then a few years later... She was
still married to her first husband.

She found out she was actually going
to have one of her own.

Unfortunately,
the child was born mentally retarded.

An imbecile.

Marina had a complete breakdown.

She hasn't worked since.

I see.

Now maybe you can understand
what this film means to her.

That she actually has the guts
to appear in front of a camera again.

Yes, indeed.

This film's gonna turn
everything around for her.

That's why if she ever found out, even
suspected, she was the intended victim...

You don't believe that the thought
has entered her mind?

Not for a minute.

The idea of someone wanting
to murder your wife doesn't bother you?

You've been seeing too many
Charlie Chan movies, Inspector.

Look, I'll be here the whole time.

When I'm not, my secretary
won't let her out of her sight.

- You trust Miss Zielinsky?
- Of course I trust her.

She was there.
She had the opportunity.

Ella is devoted to my wife.

And to you too?

Jason, Marty phoned again!

He says if you're not there in ten
minutes, he's getting John Houston!

Will there be anything else, Inspector?

Is that the Martin N Fenn
who produced "The Terror in Trinidad"?

The one and only.

I've always wondered
what the N stood for.

No idea.

How about "knockwurst"?

Huh! Oh, Mr Rudd.

What?

I was really most impressed
with "The Last Brigade".

And, particularly, if I may say so, with
your very subtle use of low-key lighting.

Why... thank you.

Shouldn't you be resting
that foot, Aunt Jane?

Old Edward's got his rheumatism again.

I really can't let the garden
become like a jungle.

Do you think Mr Rudd
is fond of his wife?

Well, I'd say he adores her.

What about Miss Zielinsky?

Business-like. Efficient.

Seemingly loyal.

Suffers from hay fever.

- Attractive?
- Yes, in a uncalculated sort of way.

That's a very austere assessment,
Dermot.

Maybe, but what
are you implying, Aunt Jane?

I'm implying absolutely nothing.

I just find your lack of emotion,
shall we say, a bit studied.

Oh, all right.

If you prefer I were more direct,

then I'd say given the right time,
the right place,

that Miss Zielinsky
is probably... hotter than a pistol.

Hm, perhaps we should return
to austerity. Hmm.

Well, you brought it up.

Seriously, do you believe
she was telling the truth?

Well, let's say, I think she allowed her
loyalties to become quite transparent.

- Her feelings for Mr Rudd.
- Exactly.

A prime suspect, I'd say.

Oh, would you, now?
Well, well.

Where are you off to?

I'm off to the glamorous world
of movie making.

I see this is not a particularly
taxing case for you, Dermot.

Well, show business
is just a business, Aunt Jane.

What we need is a little more business
and a little less show.

In fact, there's a wonderful saying
I read not too long ago about Hollywood.

"Underneath all that phoney tinsel
lies the real tinsel." Hmm.

- That's very profound, Aunt Jane.
- Better be careful, Dermot.

They're liable to mistake you for
Leslie Howard and put you in the picture.

Well, I do have a certain charm
or so I've been told.

Perhaps it's time it was discovered.

Dermot!

First discover
Heather Babcock's murderer.

Well, I'd better work fast
before someone else does it for me.

Let's have a shooting bell.

Very quiet, everybody!

- Roll the camera!
- Speed. Mark it.

Forget the board.
Lola Brewster, make-up test. Take one.

Board on end.

All right, Lola honey, turn left.

Slowly.

Lovely.

Now hold it there a moment.

Down with the chin a little.

Up with the eyes.

Good.

Now, keep the chin down.

Lovely.

Excuse me, gov.
Could you check this?

Oh, yeah.

Dimmer on the key light. Down a bit.

Whoa.

It's not dark enough.
Any Italian blood?

It's the stuff we always use.
Kensington Gore.

Slowly back the other way, dear.

It's like water. Don't you people know
that blood is thicker than water?

I want it thick like tomato juice.

Excuse me, sir, could you have a look
at the guards, please?

Slowly back the other way, dear.

Lovely.

They're supposed to be
the queen's soldiers, not her ballerinas.

Yes, sir. Leave it to me, sir.

Now turn your head right.

No, dear.
Not your shoulders. Just your head.

Right.

No, dear. Your right.

Jason!

Cut!

Save the red.

Yes, my dear.

Lest we forget,
you do have an actress in this movie.

One who also happens
to be married to the producer.

No, my dear, I haven't forgotten.

It's important we discuss
the queen's relationship with her father.

When the picture begins,
the father's been dead over 30 years.

Now why don't you go
to your dressing room

and put on a nice new costume, OK?

I told Marty
we should have got George Cukor!

Swords and blood,
that's all he thinks about.

That and that over-stuffed psycho
of a wife.

Will you get your paws out of my hair?

Where did you get this wig, Woolworths?

Calls himself a director!

Did you see his last picture?

I could eat a can of Kodak

and... puke a better movie.

Oh, why,
you must be Inspector Craddock.

They told me you'd be here.

How sweet of you to come.

Oh, Miss Brewster,
I'm a great fan of yours.

Isn't that nice?

And I know you'll excuse me
while I change, hm?

Yes. Yes, of course.

Please, you-you-you carry, carry on.

Now, tell me, Inspector dear,
what's on your mind?

I have a few questions regarding
the murder of Heather Babcock.

- Who?
- The woman up at Gossington Hall.

Oh, yes.
Who was she, an extra?

Ow! The zipper, you moron.
It's caught in my rump!

- Oh, I'm sorry, Miss Brewster.
- If I might digress for a moment.

Er, I'd like... I'm so sorry.

...to, er... to ask about
your relationship with Marina Gregg.

Gregg?

Gregg. That name rings a bell.

- Come now, Miss Brewster.
- I'm teasing you, Sherlock.

Of course I know Marina Gregg.

Isn't she that aging,
broken-down ex-star

trying so desperately
for a comeback?

Here, try combing this out.
They may find Amelia Earhart.

Now, Inspector dear.

Why don't you ask me some more
of those searching questions?

I just love being examined,
especially by someone as cute as you.

Er, what I'm particularly...

Are you really from Scotland Yard?
A real-life inspector?

I just can hardly believe it.

A real-life inspector
in my dressing room.

Oh, just think of me as a...

What you call a cop.

Only if you brought
your nightstick, honey.

- Miss Brewster.
- Oh, I'm sorry.

I've upset you. Forgive me.

I promise I'll be a good girl.

Now, about Marina.

Well, what can I say?

She was a great star.

Was.

I mean, when I was
just a teensy-weensy little girl,

my grandmother used
to take me to see all of her movies.

And then about ten years ago,
around my 16th birthday,

she had this awful collapse,
poor thing.

Drugs, alcohol, insanity.

It's not easy
when you've hit rock bottom.

Marty and I felt the least we could do
was to give her a part in my picture.

Yes, that's very charitable.

Ow! Not so tight.

Er... Miss Brewster?

Inspector?

Wasn't there some kind of trouble

between you and Miss Gregg
a few years ago?

Trouble? Why?

Whatever do you mean?

When Miss Gregg
began seeing Mr Rudd,

- weren't you and Mr Rudd...?
- Now, Inspector. That's ancient history.

Besides, Jason and I
were ending it, anyway.

I was only too happy to see Marina
find a little companionship,

lonely and pathetic creature
that she was.

Is that why you aimed and fired
a short-barrel 9mm Luger at her skull

missing it by two-and-a-half inches?

- Did the bitch tell you that?
- No, no, Miss Brewster.

The Beverly Hills Police Department.

All right, so I got a little miffed.

I may be a great star,
but I'm still human.

Human enough to try it again?

Only this time with poison?

Are you insinuating?

Merely exploring the possibility.

Er... ready, Miss Brewster.

Well, it seems
that I must take my leave.

Thank you for our little, er...
chat, Miss Brewster.

And, er... jolly good luck
with your picture.

Miss Brewster, we're waiting.

Screw Scotland Yard!

- Sorry, ma'am.
- Oh.

I was just taking a walk down
to the village.

It's that way, ma'am.

Ah.

Cherry dear, are the post office
playing with the telephone lines again?

Don't think so, ma'am.

Gossington Hall.

Hello?

Hello?

What is that girl up to?

I saw you.

I saw you put the poison
in Marina's glass.

'I saw you.'

Look, that, er... part's been cast.

Why didn't you call last week?

Leave your name and address
with my secretary and...

Actors.

You know about actors, don't you?
They all live up there somewhere.

I knew a broad once.

I was making a Civil War epic.

We were supposed
to shoot a big scene that day.

She comes to me,
tells me she can't work that week.

Do you know why?

Because her astrologist...

tells her it's, er... not in the stars.

So...

I, er... pay this little creep a visit.

I give him a grand, right?

He tells her the stars
have made a sudden shift

and if she doesn't report
to work every morning on time,

she's gonna lose her sex drive.

The next morning she was there
before the janitor. Sit down.

Thank you.
Yes, "Fields of Glory", wasn't it?

- Yeah. Did you see that?
- Yes.

Found it a bit melodramatic.
It's not a very positive...

The only positive thing about it
was the negative.

Inspector, what's on your mind, huh?

Er... how long
have you known Miss Gregg?

Marina?
We've been friends a long time.

Have the two of you
been, er... intimate?

Intimate?

Yeah, we've been intimate.

Everybody in Hollywood is intimate.

Swifty! How are you, Swifty?
What are you doing?

Oh, things are great.

The girl's got the best spot
in the picture.

What do you want me to do?

I can't, Swifty.
You gotta give me a break.

Come on! Wonderful.

I owe you one. Thanks, pal.

Agents.

He thinks he's got a lot of class.

He once sold me an actress.
Said she was great.

I called her.
She'd been dead for six months.

- Please go on. I'm sorry.
- Oh, thank you.

Er... now then,
about Miss Gregg.

Let me tell you something
about Marina.

Secure, she ain't.

Under all that jewellery
is a sad, insecure lady.

Hm. Is there anyone that you could think
of who might wanna harm Miss Gregg?

Yeah, Heather Hopper.

No, I mean anyone involved
in the picture.

You, for instance.

Me?
I'm the producer.

I'm coming up with 3.5 million dollars
to make this movie.

You think I'm gonna bump off
my leading lady

two days before
I start shooting the picture?

I've got contracts
at Radio City Music Hall for Christmas!

Unless someone else
bumps her off.

Well, if someone else bumps her off,
I'll prop her up and dub her

to get her at the Radio City Music Hall
at Christmas.

Harry, I want those pictures
up here right now.

I don't care if she's having tea
with Mickey Mouse!

Tell her to bring the pictures
up here now!

Excuse me.
Anything else I can help you with?

- Er... I've got a picture to make.
- Er... yes.

- Oh, just one thing, Mr Fenn.
- Sure.

I've always been curious about...

What?

What does the N stand for?

You wanna know what it stands for?

I'll tell you what it stands for.
Nothing.

But it sure looks great on that
big silver screen, doesn't it?

- Yes.
- Goodbye.

- Oh, and thanks for your time, Mr Fenn.
- Please.

Get me the coast.

What do you mean, what coast?

Chief Inspector Craddock, madam.

Miss Gregg?

That man is working
on the lawn with such dedication.

Hmm.

I'm Marina Gregg.

- At least what's left of her.
- Miss Gregg.

I understand you were here earlier.

I'm sorry for having
to make you come back.

Oh, please, please don't apologise.
I quite understand.

Hmm. I hope you... realise
the, er... chaos of filmmaking.

It really is rather
a wretched business, you know.

Well, I don't get
to the cinema very often.

Ah. Of course.

Er... tea?

Yes, please.

- Please.
- Thank you.

- Milk?
- Er... no milk, no sugar. Thank you.

You know, it's funny.
I never drank tea in America.

Now I'm slowly becoming an addict.

Yes, well, there's a little shop
in the village, Hedgeworth, I think.

Offers an extraordinary selection.
The most exotic brews.

Oh, I'll have to check it out.

Hmm.

"Check it out."

You're probably thinking
how hopelessly American she sounds.

- You're here about that poor woman?
- Mm.

Who would want to kill her?

D-D-Do you have a clue?

Er... can you tell me about her?

Me?

Well, how would I know
anything about her?

People said that the two of you
spent some time talking together.

Ah, well, she spent time talking,
I spent time listening.

Hm. Can you be more specific,
Miss Gregg?

Do you know what fans are like,
Inspector?

I mean, real fans?

No.
Why don't you tell me?

Well... it seems...

Let me think.
I-I-I want to get this straight.

It seems we had met once.

Years ago during the war.

She remembered every detail of it,

even down to the song I was singing,
the dress I was wearing.

Funny thing is...
I remember it too.

Anyway, I-I-I was entertaining the troops
and she was sick or something,

but she was determined to see me.

And she got out of bed,
got dressed, got into the stage door.

Her, her uncle or someone
was the doorkeeper.

And she waited in the wings
until after my curtain call

and I... I signed her autograph
or, or something.

She said it was
the most exciting night of her life.

And you know...

It probably was.

Hmm.

I'm so sorry. Er... yes.

Now then... I understand
there was a moment

when you seemed startled
about something.

- Or maybe even frightened.
- Frightened?

It was about the time
when Mr Fenn and his wife appeared.

- I don't...
- You looked at the picture on the landing.

Oh, that.

Yes, of course. There...
There was a moment.

I-I-I was talking to that woman, that fan,
and she was going on and on, gushing.

And I was feeling...

Run out of thank-yous and I-I just
didn't know how to get out of it and I...

I-I just went blank.

Miss Gregg,
I hope you won't find this upsetting,

but can you think of anyone
who... might want to kill you?

- Why do you ask that?
- I must explore every possibility.

How do you get along
with Miss Zielinsky?

Why are you asking these questions?

A local woman was murdered.

What, what does it have
to do with me?

I came here to make a movie.

I came here with friends.

I came here with people that love me.

Why are you doing this to me?
Why?

I'm trying to pull my life together.

They're behind me.
My husband and Ella.

They won't let it happen.
They'll stand up for me.

Why are you doing this?
Why?

Oh, God!

It was me, wasn't it?

It was me
they were trying to poison, wasn't it?

Who am I kidding?

Somebody is trying
to kill me, aren't they?

Somebody is trying
to... poison me, aren't they?

Somebody is trying
to kill me, aren't they? Aren't they?

I know it! I can...

"I can feel it.
I can almost hear them coming."

"Danger in the Dark."

MGM, 1932.

That scene when you thought
your husband and your sister

were trying to kill you and you
broke down in front of the police.

Why, you sneaky little chief inspector!

I bet you've seen
every one of my movies.

Oh, at least twice.

That one was a real dog.

But you were most compelling
in that scene, though.

Hmm.
The critics didn't seem to think so.

If they'd been here today, I'm absolutely
certain they would have succumbed.

You didn't.

Well, I'm a detective, Miss Gregg.

It's my job to analyse behaviour
off-screen.

Well, I'm an actress. I act.

Yes. I think the performance
was a little overdone, if I may say.

I personally would have settled
for simple sincerity.

I didn't think you'd believe me.

I still don't think you believe me.

"You won't escape next time."

"Prepare to die."

One came here.
The other was sent to the studio.

- When?
- This morning.

Who delivered them?

- We don't know.
- We?

My husband and I.

At first I thought it was a joke.

Hmm.

Some kind of joke, huh?

You know, I don't think
I've been so scared

since I was a kid
in Oklahoma City.

Shirley Bookbinder.

Prettiest little girl in town.

I really thought
I was something.

Till one day I found,
I think I was around ten...

I found in my desk a note...

...saying...

"Nobody likes you, Shirley."

I cried for three days.

I never did find out
who wrote it.

See, the tough thing
about having it...

...there's always somebody
who wants to take it away.

And, you know...

...they usually do.

Help me, Inspector, please.

- And I'm sure you will, Dermot.
- Well, I'll certainly try.

I suspect you're rather smitten
with Miss Bookbinder.

Nonsense, Aunt Jane.

Trouble is, of course, I now have
enough suspects with enough motives

to fill every shop in this high street.

Now please make sure
that you and little Jeremy John

and the godparents are on time

because at 3.30 I have Mrs Cracknell
and her little Jeremy John.

No, no, that's wrong. Er, Mrs Cracknell's
little Michael Jeremy John.

No, that's wrong too.
Mrs Michael's John.

No, that's not right either.

Hmm. So confusing.

But I must get it right, mustn't I?

Well, see you Saturday. 3.30.

Ah, Miss Marple!

Great news!

Mr Edwards down at the garage
has been able to diagnose the problem.

We shall, therefore, hopefully
no longer have to call upon you

to resolve next Friday night's
little extravaganza, "Two Girls From..."

I've forgotten where.
But I do hope to see you anyway.

- Somewhere in America I'm sure.
- Idaho.

You can safely
give that one a miss, Aunt Jane.

If you say so, Dermot.

Jamie.

Oh, Jamie.

How I've longed for you.

To take you in my arms
and to clasp you to my bosom.

Jason, will you get that creep
out of my eye line?

- Cut.
- Who? Who, me?

Was I in your eye line?

Oh, but I-I just wanted Jason
to see my costume.

Dear, will you put the virgin queen
back into her cage?

Lola... why don't you
go study your lines?

Anything you say.

Anybody got a script breakdown?

Oh, I am so sorry.

I shouldn't have used "that" word.

Hm-hm.

Tea's up!

Don't all rush.
Plenty to go round.

Don't walk in front of the camera,
for goodness' sake! Load of animals.

Are you OK?

Hm?

Hmm. I'm fine, Jinks.

That's my girl.

Excuse me.

- Coffee, Marina.
- Oh, thank you.

- Jason, shall I get you a cup?
- Could you look at this?

- See if you can strike it?
- Yep.

Thank you.

Excuse me.

Jason, when do I get to play my scene
with Sir Walter Raleigh?

- What?
- Jason!

Jason!

- What is it?
- The...

The coffee.

There's nothing wrong with it.
It's a little strong.

- You're lying.
- Honey, come on.

- You're lying! It's poisoned!
- Marina.

I'll see you in the morning, Miss Marple.
I've laid everything out.

Oh, and don't forget,
I left your dinner in the oven.

Thank you, Cherry dear.

Remember me?

I saw you, murderer.

Good evening, miss.

Mr Rudd has been asking for you.

Oh.

Where have you been?

I've been out for a walk.

What's the matter with you?
You look terrible.

The coffee Marina almost drank
on the set.

I had it analysed.

- Arsenic.
- Arsenic?

- How?
- I'm asking you.

- What's that supposed to mean?
- You made it, poured it. Gave it to her.

- Do you think I tried to poison her?
- Yes!

No. I don't know.

I... I don't know what to think.

You really do love her, don't you?

Oh...

Don't worry.
I'm sure they'll find him.

Him?

Whoever did it.

Oh, for God's sake,
do something about that cold.

- Is the doctor here?
- Yes, sir.

- Mr Rudd called the station at 8.55, sir.
- Mm-hm.

- You'll have my report in the morning.
- Right.

All right, girls, you can go now.

Bates, if you'll stay, Constable Arnold
will take your statement now.

Inspector...

...who would wanna kill her?

The same person
that tried to poison your wife.

Did you know that Miss Zielinsky
was making a series of phone calls

from the box in the village?

Yes. She was apparently
playing detective.

Phoning every suspect.

Telling them that she'd
seen them poison Miss Gregg.

Waiting for a reaction.

If whoever she was talking to
had took the bait,

she'd find the murderer.

She obviously did.

- You've seen the coffee analysis?
- Yes.

Mr Rudd...

...why didn't you tell me
about these notes?

I obviously forgot about them.

Really? Somebody threatened
to kill your wife and you forgot?

I thought I could handle it.

Not very effectively it seems.

What are you doing?

- I'm getting out of here.
- Marina.

I'm sorry, Jason,
but I'm not staying here another night.

- What about the picture?
- To hell with the picture!

Somebody out there is trying to kill me.
Think I'm gonna sit and wait for them?

No one is going to hurt you.

Oh, Jinks.

- I'm so scared!
- I know, I know.

But I'm here with you.
The police are on guard.

Why? Why would somebody
wanna hurt me?

Shh.

Why didn't you tell me
about those notes?

What's the point?

Scare the hell out of you too?

Please, let's get out of here.

OK.
We'll check into a hotel in the morning.

- Do you promise?
- I promise.

And we'll be together always.

Till death do us part.

Why'd you say that?

Seems we can eliminate
Miss Zielinsky as a suspect.

Murder is a very dangerous business.

If one gets mixed up in it, one must
be prepared for the consequences.

Yes, she wasn't a pretty sight.

Prussic acid
is a most unpleasant death.

So, where do we go from here,
Aunt Jane?

Our most likely suspects
become our latest victim.

There were at least 40 people
at that party

and no one saw the poison
being put into the glass.

Ooh, come now, Dermot. At least
three people could have quite easily.

One, the unobservant soul
preoccupied with other thoughts,

completely unaware of what he saw.

Hm. Second?

The person who thought nothing of it
because it seemed quite natural.

You see, in my day,
it was considered bad manners,

but people today are always
putting things in their drinks.

- Pills, medicine. All sorts of things.
- Yes, I suppose. And third?

We have the person
who actually did it.

The same person
who murdered Ella Zielinsky.

Exactly.

You know, Dermot, I always think
that murder is like a jigsaw.

Until you've fitted in the final piece,
you can't see the whole picture.

Obviously,
we still have a piece missing.

Now, what was
that awful women's name?

Brown boots,
sort of Cheltenham type.

- Colethorpe.
- Cynthia Colethorpe, right.

I distinctly remember
it wasn't till halfway through the case

when you reminded me
about her smelly little Pekingese.

What was its name?
It smelt revoltingly.

Aunt Jane?

Frozen.

That frozen look.

What was it that Heather Babcock
said to Marina Gregg

just before she gave the frozen look?

You mean all that interminable nonsense
about how she was ill?

Er... Marina gave her an autograph and it
was the most exciting moment of her life.

Yes, it was before she spilled the drink.
Here it is.

It's not good enough.

We've got to know
Heather's exact words.

I'm not sure that I follow you.

- Alice Wetherby's cousin.
- Alice Wetherby's cousin?

She went into a back room one day and
found her husband had hung himself

from a hook at the top
of the ceiling eight feet high.

There was nothing else in the room
except the hook,

the body and a small puddle of water
beneath his feet.

Nobody could understand how he'd
manoeuvred himself to perform the deed

until it was discovered
he had purchased a two-foot block of ice

from the local fishmonger,
Mr Croswell.

To this day, Alice Wetherby's cousin

shudders at the mere suggestion
of an ice cube in her gin.

Yes, Aunt Jane.

Don't you see, Dermot?

Something as trivial
as the suggestion of an ice cube

when it becomes associated
with another experience,

something that caused great grief,

it fixes in the mind,
stays with you forever.

Yes, but I'm not sure
what you're getting at.

If only we knew
what Heather actually said.

Cherry!

Oh, I'm afraid that's impossible.
At least for now.

I've sent her away.

Whatever for?

Dear boy, I don't want her
to be murdered too.

Marina, honey.

I brought you something warm to drink.

Hot chocolate.

Do you remember when we used to drink
it on those cold nights in Sun Valley?

When there was nothing else to do.

I mean, afterwards.

Sleep tight.

I'll take these.

You won't be needing them anymore.

Jason?

Hm?

I love you.

I love you too, baby.

Of course, the vicar!

Thank you, Inch.
If you'll wait, please.

I'm sorry, Miss Marple.
Miss Gregg is not available.

But it is imperative
that I see her at once.

My apologies, madam.
I have my orders.

Then I shall wait.

There is a lady here, sir.

What kind of a lady?

A somewhat elderly lady, sir.
A Miss Marple.

She refuses to leave.
Shall I...?

No. I'll get rid of her.

Mr Rudd.

Good morning, Mr Rudd.

Look, Miss, er... Marble,
or whatever your name is,

I don't know what you're doing here,
but you cannot stay.

It's Marple
and I won't keep you long.

I'm correct, am I not, that that is where
your wife stood the day of the murder?

She looked in that direction
and then her face froze.

I think you'd better leave.

Bellini's "Mother and Child".
A very fine painting.

A present of the Brera Institute
in Milano I believe.

The whole thing
is really quite simple, isn't it?

- I don't know what you're talking about.
- Oh, I think you do.

- Ah, Dermot.
- Good Lord, Aunt Jane.

I might have guessed you'd be here.

This is the spot where it happened,

which makes it
so much easier to understand.

It's very simple,
if only one looks at it the proper way.

It all began, you see, with the kind
of person that Heather Babcock was.

Damn it! That's enough!

The two of you come busting
into my house. I want you out! Now!

Perhaps you should call the police,
Mr Rudd.

Let us go back, shall we?

'To the moment
when Heather greets Miss Gregg

'and launches
into her effusive little tale.

'Poor Miss Gregg listened patiently
as Heather rattled on

'or at least she appeared to.

'And then suddenly
Marina turned her head away.

'A strange look came over her face.
A look of doom.'

It had nothing to do
with Lola Brewster's arrival.

Marina wasn't even looking at her
or poor Heather.

She was looking at the Madonna.

A picture of a serene mother
holding a beautiful happy baby.

I still don't see the connection.

Of course not. You don't know
what Heather actually said.

Yes, but haven't we
been through all that last night?

'She got out of bed, slipped out of
the barracks determined to see her idol.

'Proceeded to the theatre
where some relative let her in

'and allowed her to watch
from the wings.'

I still don't see
where that gets us.

Neither did I.
And then I thought of the vicar.

I telephoned him in the middle of the
night. I'm afraid I wasn't at all popular.

He remembered Heather's
convalescence.

She had been ill and spent her sick leave
in the village with her mother.

You see, when Heather Babcock
went to the theatre that evening,

she was infectious.

'She was suffering from rubella.

'More commonly known
as German measles.'

Your wife had a child
that was born mentally retarded.

She never recovered
from the shock.

Marina...

contracted German measles
during the pregnancy.

And she never knew how.

And then one afternoon,
a perfect stranger tells her with pleasure,

with pride even,
what she has done.

And you let me kiss you.
Oh, yes, you did!

What a nice little story, dear.

- Now, can I get you a drink?
- Oh, thank you, yes.

'A rather perfect murder.'

Not exactly as Cherry described it.
I was wrong about one thing.

I deduced that one of the guests
at the party

took the risk of putting the poison
in the glass.

But it was unnecessary.

No one would have noticed the hostess
taking a momentary leave of absence

to visit her bathroom
to prepare the fatal potion.

'As an actress
used to handling props,

'she would have had no trouble
jogging Heather's elbow,

'accidentally spilling her drink
and offering her her own.

'Marina had to insist
that she was the intended victim,

'that the murder was aimed at her
to support her plot.

'She wrote the notes herself.'

Even doctored her coffee at the studio.
It deceived nearly everybody.

Nearly.

But one person saw through it.

You knew, didn't you, Mr Rudd?

It was the notes
that made you finally realise.

The notes your wife
forgot to tell you about.

If they had been real,
she would have informed you at once.

And so you decided
to protect her.

Mr Rudd,
I'd like to speak to your wife.

Excuse me, Dermot.
Would you mind if I saw her first?

Thank you, dear. Mr Rudd.

Miss Marple.

Yes, Mr Rudd?

She's dead.

I rather suspected as much.

Couldn't you?

I killed her.

I put poison
in her hot chocolate last night.

It was inevitable
she would have been discovered. I...

I couldn't let her face the humiliation.

She's suffered enough.

You must have loved her very much.

Mr Rudd, I think you better come in here.

Marina?

Mr Rudd.

She's given the performance
of her life.