Original subtitles

So how about it, Nancy?

A comedy about nuclear weapons.

Satire. Mocking your husband and his government

for being so in love with them.

Charles will be furious. Please write it.

God, my husband's dull.

People aren't interested in bombs.

They want romance, seduction...

and me.

Isn't that right, Professor?

Yes, Mrs. Kelly.

Please forgive my wife, Professor.

The film parts of drying up and so is her self respect.

Charles.

We were about to report you as a missing person.

Well, you know P.M likes to chat, darling.

You all right there, Professor?

Uh, yes, Minister.

He's worried about poor Mary's headache,

aren't you, Professor?

Hmm.

So am I. The poor girl didn't look at all well.

Go and check on her, please will you, Alice?

Mary Sparkes, 22 years old,

secretary to the country's chief scientific advisor.

You know who springs to mind?

Marilyn Monroe?

Victor Dean, found at the bottom of the stairs

in 'Murder Must Advertise'.

Turned out he'd been killed by a catapult.

Right. Well eagle-eyed Felix here

noticed something odd about this one.

The cut on her head, it's quite deep.

I thought-

Oh, yes. So we would have expected

some arterial spray, no sign of a ecchymosis either.

Ecchymosis?

There's no bruising.

In other words?

Young Mary was already dead when she fell down the stairs.

Are you sure?

I'd bet my Lord Peter Wimsey collection on it.

Oh, jolly good work, Sergeant.

Oh.

What is it, Sister?

It's her pupils.

They're like pin pricks. It suggests some kind of toxin.

The minister of defence and poisoning.

Something tells me this is gonna get messy.

The maid who found her is on her way.

Poor girl.

All that champagne must've affected her balance.

Inspector, might I have a word?

Uh-hmm.

This is a delicate time for our government.

Can I urge you to keep news of this terrible accident

from the press? At least for the time being.

I'll do what I can, Minister.

Ah, here's Alice now.

This is quite the get-up.

Do you have a nurses outfit as well?

I'm working on a story and it just got a whole lot bigger.

Enlighten us. But keep your voice down.

Well, as you all know, Charles Streatham

is everybody's bet for next P.M.

He's also champion of the government's

Traditional Values Campaign.

Ah, yes. Monogamy, abstention, religion.

A most commendable initiative.

Also known as the campaign for the end of fun.

Go on...

Well,

I picked up rumours that Mr. Traditional Values

was, in fact, having an affair.

So I pulled in a favour with a contact in the kitchen here.

And?

The rumours are true.

Or should I say, they were true.

Mary Sparkes?

Good Lord!

I saw the proof.

Which was?

A look between them.

Mary then claimed a headache and went to bed.

Moments later, Charles said he had a phone call

with the prime minister.

You call that proof?

Well it's enough for me to run a story under the headline,

'Murder Of Defence Supremo's Mistress.'

Who said anything about murder?

Spare me, Sam. The sister doesn't get called accidents.

I'm saying nothing.

Sister, look me in the eye and tell me the girl slipped.

I rest my case.

Fine, but you have to leave the house now.

Or I stay and help you find the killer.

Think about it, Sam. I can go anywhere,

listen in on conversations you can't get near.

She's right. Extra pair of eyes and ears and all that.

Oh, I'll do anything you asked me to.

You do not publish until I say so.

And you never ever tell anyone you were in this house.

Deal.

You have previous on breaking your word.

Oh, I won't this time.

Poisoned?

Only according to a nun, darling.

Let's be clear about this.

How utterly thrilling.

Aw, it's nonsense.

If that girl was poisoned,

it was with too much champagne.

And you are, um, Anthony Kelly, the playwright?

The far-left ying to Charles' centrist yang.

Ivy and I go back to Cambridge.

Ivy?

His nickname for me. Don't ask.

And we all know who you are, Mrs. Kelly.

I very much liked, 'My Love of the Martian'.

Oh, please.

Call me Jocelyn.

Jocelyn.

This is supposed to be a working weekend.

S-sorry, you are?

Professor Azim Thomas.

M.O.D's Chief Scientific Advisor.

So Mary Sparkes was your secretary, Professor Thomas?

Yes.

The best a man could have.

How well did you know Mary, Minister?

Not at all well, I'm afraid.

Sorry, I don't mean to be insensitive,

but how long will this take?

Only I have a very important audition on Monday.

Well you must all remain in the house

until further notice.

But Inspector, if one of us is a killer,

aren't we all in great danger if we stay here?

There'll be a police presence around the clock,

but I certainly would stay vigilant.

My dad reckons World War Three is coming

and the Russians are gonna to destroy us all.

Your father was an excellent butcher, Peggy.

Let's just hope he's a terrible prophet.

Oh, Minister.

Sister.

Any, um...

progress?

Not yet. Still, early days.

Right. Well...

Carry on.

What was that all about?

I suspect he may have been looking for this.

'My study, 10:30 p.m. Think Marilyn Munroe. C, kiss.'

An assignation coinciding with the time

of Mary's death. From C.

Miss Penny was right.

It would seem so.

They'll have to compare handwriting samples.

So, Mary, heart racing, no doubt, came here to prepare

for her tryst. Moments later, she died on the stairs.

Say where was the poison hidden?

Fervour. Audrey Hepburn wears that.

The world's most expensive perfume,

according to Woman's Hour,

New box. Just opened.

I wonder...

Aw, my, my. It must be destiny.

On Monday, I'm auditioning for a Hollywood musical.

As a nun.

Oh, gosh.

She's a free spirit.

Falls in love with a father of seven.

Ends up fleeing the Nazis.

Oh, sounds just like sister Hildegard.

Married a chiropodist from Peterborough,

and now has four boys under six.

The songs are all pretty forgettable,

but I do it for the money.

It's down to me or Julie Andrews.

Well, the very best of luck with that.

You know, Sister, I find it incredibly helpful

to prepare in the clothes of my character.

I don't suppose you could lend me a wimple?

Oh, um, yes. No, I don't see why not.

Wonderful. Maybe there is a God after all.

A nun? Well she must be a very, very good actress.

Sister?

Look at this.

Another candidate for our poisoned.

Ah.

Good morning, Sister.

Morning. Did you pull an all-nighter?

Well, as Miss Bronte says,

'A ruffled mind makes a restless pillow.'

Ha! Spare wimple, Sister?

Oh, yes. So that's for Jocelyn Kelly.

Turns out she's something of a method actor.

So, my research tells me Miss Jocelyn Kelly

has only remained fully clothed in one film.

A remake of 'Little Women'.

Play to your strengths, I say.

Anything else on any of our suspects?

Well, Professor Thomas has

some serious scientific pedigree.

Did you know he once ran

the nation's chemical weapons programme at Porton Down?

Chemical weapons? Doesn't seem the type.

So is this definitely the minister's handwriting?

Well the alignment, the pressure,

the flourishes on the Y's and T's. Unquestionably.

Huh. So much for Mr. Traditional Values.

Hmm. Any joy with our M.O?

Well no nasties found in Mary's champagne glass.

Water or soap.

But she used this perfume for the first time,

just before she died,

and using good old fashioned

distillation and chromatography, I extracted this.

My spectrometer is trying to put a name to it,

but it's unpleasant, unstable, and most definitely

not a standard ingredient of Fervour.

So this is our poison?

Oh, it seems highly likely.

Superlative work as ever, Sister. Any prints?

Only Mary's, I'm afraid.

Hmm, shame.

Still, it seems if we find who gave her

that doctored perfume, we should find our killer.

Yeah

And I know just where to start.

So, how can I help you, gentlemen?

We have confirmed that this

is your handwriting, Minister.

According to this, you were with Mary

at the time she died.

Honesty is probably best, given the circumstances.

Hmm. Mrs. Streatham must not hear about this,

do you understand?

I waited here for half an hour but she didn't turn up.

I assumed she'd gone to bed.

So you went to check.

No, I went straight back to the sitting room.

You gave this to Mary.

I've never seen that before.

Well she couldn't have afforded it herself,

unless she had another wealthy lover.

I'm obliged to ask this, Minister.

Was Mary blackmailing you?

Aw, what?

Your reputation,

your chances of getting into Downing Street,

all depended on Mary keeping quiet.

Your marriage too, by the sounds of it.

Oh, don't be absurd.

There wasn't a malicious bone in that girl's body.

God bless her soul.

What a hypocrite!

But is her a murderer, though, Felix?

Poison requires planning. A government minister

would surely choose somewhere more discreet

than his own home.

Okay. I'll go see what I can find on the other suspects.

Good man.

Good. God.

So..

What do you wear in bed, Sister?

Oh, um, well, um...

I can't lie. I've always had a soft spot

for Woolworth's pyjamas.

Here's my Captain Von Trapp.

He's certainly handsome enough.

Uh-hmm.

I want you to run a scene with me.

Uh, acting's not really my thing.

From So Maria.

Right, um, 'So, Maria,

have you found what you are looking for?'

I think I have.

Uh, I know I have.

I love you.

Oh, Captain.

Oh!

Butterfingers.

Um, I'd better go and give Alice a hand.

But Captain, we haven't finished our scene.

Leave the man alone, for God's sake.

They're only auditioning her

because the director owes me a favour.

Mmm.

She hasn't got a hope in hell.

I hope you burn in hell.

Never marry an actress.

Oh, I'm heading back to the lab.

My spectrometer calls.

The drop on the floor outside Mary's room?

Uh-hmm.

It was Brandy.

That was close.

Thank you.

My pleasure...

Captain.

So?

Well Jocelyn Kelly was so drunk last night,

she got lost on the way out of the bathroom

and ended up in the library. It was only eight o'clock.

Maybe she was still drunk.

No, she's just barmy.

You know she slapped Elizabeth Taylor

at the Cleopatra premiere, and had a fight

with Audrey Hepburn in a Los Angeles restaurant

about eating disorders.

I think I prefer her holler and scream.

Was there any tension between her and Mary Sparkes?

Oh, no more than you'd expect,

given Mary was half her age

and getting all the male attention.

You were right by the way, about the affair.

But I just don't think he's our man.

Well, let's see.

We just need to find the proof

that Mary was blackmailing him.

Be careful, Ruth.

I can handle myself.

I don't suppose Jocelyn Kelly

was drinking Brandy the other night?

No. Anthony Kelly was, though.

Did he leave the sitting room?

Once. To get more cigarettes from his room.

When was that?

Not long after Mary went to bed.

I thought something was going on

between Charles and the girl.

So I went to check if she really did have a headache.

And?

There was a key in the lock. I couldn't see anything.

So I went back to the sitting room.

Why were you so interested?

Because I cared about Nancy.

I don' want her getting hurt.

And did you tell Nancy Streatham about your suspicions?

Without any proof.

What good would have come from that?

Charles?

Charles!

Darling.

What did the police want?

Oh, I just, just routine stuff.

They know, don't they? About her.

Hmm, Nancy, for the last time.

There was nothing going on with that girl.

Oh, spare me, Charles.

Why in God's name did I give you another chance?

Nancy?

Nancy?

Nancy?

Whew.

So that perfume didn't kill her?

Our mystery ingredient turns out

to be seresium diflouride.

It's unpleasant but it would have given Mary

a tummy ache at worst.

So, how did she die?

Well, I think this was a binary poison.

Not one but two compounds combining in Mary's body

to create a single deadly toxin.

I suspect that perfume contained the second compound.

And what was the first.

Quite possibly ingested by Mary

from something in this room.

I mean, it all sounds a bit elaborate.

There's a lot to be said for binary poison.

Safer to carry around, easier to camouflage.

Now, why isn't that in an ashtray?

So does our playwright have a motive?

The opposite. Anthony Kelly clearly has the hots

for Nancy Streatham.

Mary, the marriage wrecker was good news for him.

Inspector!

It's Miss Penny.

So Nancy Streatham knew about Charles and Mary?

Hell hath no fury like a wife scorned.

But I thought you said that

Charles Streatham was the murderer.

I know. I found this in his shredder.

'I can't wait to see this evening. You make me so happy.'

'Mary, kiss, kiss.'

Hardly reeks of blackmail.

Streatham has no idea you were in his study?

None.

Look, I need this story, okay?

You need it?

A contact at The Times told me on the QT,

there's a job for me there. I, I just need one big scoop.

The Times in London?

My dream job ever since I was eight.

I promised my father I'd get there one day.

Running your own empire

in Great Slaughter not enough for you?

Well, clearly not.

Beautiful place.

Ah, It's falling to bits.

But as with politics,

it's how things seem, not how they are.

Some people may say that applies to marriages to.

Charles and I have a good marriage.

Uh...

Did you know that he was having an affair with Mary Sparkes?

You have proof?

Yes.

God, I'm such a fool.

You're telling me you didn't know?

I had no idea.

Not until last night, not until her clumsy exit.

Azim, I'm so sorry.

I think I'm going to turn in.

Of course, Mary. Are all right?

Bit of a headache, actually. Must be all the bubbles.

Oh.

Would you like the maid to bring you

up an aspirin, my dear?

It's fine, Mrs. Streatham. Thank you.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Goodnight.

Right. Update with the P.M.

I told Tony to go and check she'd gone to bed.

The look on his face when he came back...

Well, that's when I knew for sure.

Anthony Kelly told us that he didn't see anything.

Well the dear man was probably terrified

he'd turn me into a suspect.

But it wasn't Mary I wanted dead.

To bring a girl here, to make her a guest in my own house,

to be so cruel...

If Nancy Streatham had been ignorant of the affair

until that moment, she wouldn't have had time

to plant the perfume in Mary's room,

let alone administer a second poison.

So the question is, do you believe her?

I think I do. Ruth reckons this scoop

is gonna land her a job at The Times.

The Times in London?

Exactly.

I mean, why she'd want to leave Great Slaughter...

Well, I'm sure that you could persuade her to stay.

Me?

You should have to swallow your pride, of course.

Heh.

You are leaving?

The Order has recalled me. A position in the Mother House.

It's a great blessing to be needed.

Maria, wait!

What if you are needed here?

You will find another Governess.

And lose my soul.

Sister?

Yes?

The postmortem.

Oh, yes.

Anything in there that you didn't know?

Yes.

Mary's lungs and liver weren't just poisoned.

They were ravaged.

Ravaged?

Outside chemical weapons,

I've never seen levels of toxicity like it.

Chemical weapons, eh?

Seresium difluoride?

Are you absolutely certain of that?

This is highly confidential,

but Serezium difluoride is one half of a binary nerve agent

we developed at Porton Down called Sintoxin.

Sintoxin?

The thing is,

last year one of our laboratory assistants

confessed to sharing the recipe for Sintoxin...

with the KGB.

You're surely not suggesting the Russians

are behind the murder of Mary Sparkes?

The KGB are the only people crazy enough

to deploy nerve agent on British soil.

It wasn't me, it was a KGB assassin?

It's quite the defence, Professor.

We must speak to the minister.

What I am about to tell you is top secret.

Absolutely cannot be shared outside your investigation.

You have our solemn promise.

Last night, a document was stolen from that safe.

It looked like a harmless M.O.D spending review.

It actually contained highly sensitive information,

in microdot form.

How sensitive?

Pantarus is the UK's next generation of nuclear missile.

A pillar of our nation's

nuclear weapons strategy.

The plans for Pantarus were concealed

in a dot two millimetres wide within that document.

If Moscow got their hands on those plans,

the whole Pantarus project would have to be scrapped-

Setting our country's defence strategy

back a decade.

And you think a KGB spy stole the document?

So someone murdered Mary with a nerve agent

because she caught them in the act?

As I told you, no one else could do such a thing.

There is no sign the lock's been forced.

I will get someone to come and check it for prints.

There is one obvious candidate for our spy.

I found this earlier in here.

I assume you've done full background checks on... Alice.

Of course.

I don't even know her last name.

It's, uh, Kennedy. Alice Kennedy.

And there was nothing in Miss Kennedy's background

to suggest she was a thief or a KGB agent.

Naturally you've informed MI5 of the theft.

Yes, of course.

But until they get here, we're relying on you

to find that document.

The entire nation is.

MI5 relying on us!

Quite the vote of confidence.

I'll go get pack up and start a search for that document.

Not a word, okay?

Refreshments, gentlemen?

In return for an update.

What?

What?

Coffee, please, Alice. And some biscuits.

There's a good girl.

Did that rather well, I thought.

Espionage and chemical weapons. It's Agatha Christie's,

The Incredible Theft, only even more thrilling.

You do know that smoking's bad for your health, Sister?

Research. That cigarette butt I found in the bin?

Well I found these chaps lurking in it.

That's funny looking tobacco.

Thanks to my mass analysis, I know what they are.

But would you mind awfully if I didn't tell you?

It's a state secret.

You mean that's our second poison?

Excellent.

Right, who smoked that cigarette?

Well, first we need to identify the brand.

Now there were no markings on the filter,

so I'm trying to match up the nicotine and tar levels.

Which is why you've denied half the village

of their daily fix.

Exactly.

Hmm.

Now in tandem, I need you to establish the brand

of cigarettes smoked by the three male suspects.

Right.

Why just the male suspects?

Well, because if either Nancy Streatham or Jocelyn Kelly

had smoked that cigarette, then I would have seen

traces of lipstick on the filter under a microscope.

Of course. Leave it to me.

Aw, lovely cuppa.

Thanks, Miss... Alice.

Incredible, isn't it?

What the inspector found out.

Oh, it's all right. He told me everything.

Oh, right. Terrifying, more like.

A KGB assassin here in this house.

I know...

Uh...

Yes.

I just saw Charles Streatham

smoking a packet of Kensington Slims.

Now, Azim Thomas smokes Filberts,

which leaves Anthony Kelly.

Sir, I did some digging back at the station

on Anthony Kelly.

Excellent work, Felix. What would I do without you?

You shouldn't have lied for me.

I happen to think you're worth lying for.

God.

Oh.

Nancy?

She wants to be alone, Charles.

Then maybe you should take your paws off her, Ivy.

You're a narcissistic fool. You don't deserve her.

You'd be wise to mind what you say-

Mr. Kelly?

May we have a word?

In 1961. Khrushchev invited your play,

The Day Ends At Noon, to be performed

at The Moscow Art Theatre.

Visa records show you were out in Russia

for the whole six month run.

Plenty of time to be recruited by the KGB.

Why the hell would I want to work for the KGB?

'Communism is our most minimal demand.'

'Whoever is opposed is an enemy of the human species.'

My place or posture. Look at my life.

It's hardly textbook Marxist.

I went to Russia because Khrushchev paid me a lot of money.

And what did he expect in return?

Nothing.

Just having me there made him look good.

I found an interview you did where you explain

why Mr. Streatham calls you Ivy.

It's I-V, right? The Roman numerals for number four,

as in the fourth man in the Cambridge spy-ring.

Oh, come on. It's just a joke between friends.

Mm.

Look, I'll admit to being a Bollinger Bolshevik,

but I'm no bloody KGB murderer.

Oh, and MI5 have already identified the fourth man.

Charles told me. Because he trusts me.

Can I go?

Ah, I wish I covered the KGB agent interrogation

at Hendon.

Well at least we know what cigarettes he smokes.

WPC Button, what's wrong?

Me and my big mouth.

That was a low blow.

Even by your incredibly low standards.

You shut me out.

In the interest of national security.

The KGB using a nerve agent on British soil,

and stealing a top secret document.

You don't think the British public has a right to know?

I gave my word to the minister.

A man deserving of all our trust.

Aw, give it a rest, Ruth.

All right, so where's MI5 now?

Why aren't they here tearing the place down?

And why is the defence minister relying on you? No offence.

None taken.

This whole thing stinks, Sam, and you know it.

You need to leave this house now.

As if that would stop me from publishing.

Finally your true colours come out.

This is the scoop of the decade

and I'm not going anywhere.

Not until I find out the name of the person

that killed Mary Sparkes.

Mmm.

If she does move to London,

I'll be glad to see the back of... her.

Ruth's thinking about her career, and so should you.

Which means solving this case.

Bingo!

The nicotine and tar levels in this cigarette

match those in our murder weapon exactly.

Which brand is it?

Um...

Belgravia Milds.

But no one smokes Belgravia Milds.

Hmm.

So one of those three men has a secret packet

of Doctor Belgravia Milds?

Time to turn out some pockets, I reckon.

Right.

Captain Von Trapp.

Ah.

Have you found our killer?

Uh, We are working on it, Mrs. Kelly.

What a relief.

I don't suppose your husband ever

smokes Belgravia Milds, does he?

Anthony? No.

Hurlinghams. Nothing else will do.

Why?

No reason.

How mysterious.

Darn it!

Allow me.

Thank you. What a gentleman.

Come on.

She had a pack of Belgravias'.

What? No, it can't be her.

There was no lipstick on the filter.

She used a cigarette holder.

Good Lord.

Jocelyn Kelly, a secret KGB assassin?

Well, my dad's going to be so disappointed.

Yeah, the question is now, WPC Button;

Where would she have hidden that document?

I think I might know.

C'mon.

I found her stumbling out of here at about eight o'clock.

She was drunk, claimed she was lost.

But what if the whole of last night was,

in fact, a performance?

How are we supposed to narrow this down?

She would almost certainly have chosen a title

that meant something to her.

Well. This is a nice surprise.

You're a far better actress than they give you credit for.

Your double life. Working for the KGB,

being an expert safe-breaker.

Good Lord, Captain. What an imagination you have.

But the nerve agent in your Belgravia Milds,

isn't imaginary, is it, Mrs. Kelly?

'Great Hollywood Women'.

Great choice.

Anything?

'The Many Lives Of Mata Hari'.

Surely...

Oh, this is hopeless.

Hmm.

My career was going nowhere.

That's why I followed Anthony to Moscow like a pet dog.

When the Russians made me their offer,

they took what Hepburn got for Breakfast At Tiffany's

and added a zero.

So this was all about money.

Money and respect.

The KGB don't expect me to undress before they'll pay me.

And poor Mary. She spotted you

breaking into Charles Streatham's safe-

Silly little girl. She was in the wrong place

at the wrong time.

I knew Mary would tell Charles she'd seen me

coming out of his study.

She had to be eliminated.

Mary, Mary, quite contrary.

Why were you a Mr. Streatham's study?

It's his birthday on Tuesday,

so I've left him a little surprise.

Oh.

So, you and Charles, huh?

Don't worry, darling. I can keep a secret too.

Do you know what Charles' favourite perfume is?

Fervour?

I was given a case of it on my last job.

Take it.

Oh.

Thank you.

Now remember, not a word about my present.

She didn't deserve to die.

I know. I feel dreadful.

This is it.

What is it?

'Little Women'. The one film

that's allowed her to keep her dignity.

Have you eliminated anybody else for the KGB?

No, but to be honest, darling, it's only a matter of time.

Oh!

Next time you confront a KGB assassin

armed with a chemical weapon, please wait for me.

I promise, Sister.

Sir!

Excellent work, Sergeant.

With help from Miss Penny.

Inspector?

Is that the document?

Yes, Minister.

This case will be the making of you, Inspector.

That hypocrite is going to come out of this

without even a scratch.

I totally underestimated her.

I'm here if you need me.

I have a feeling

we're going to need each other, Nancy.

It's going to be all right, darling.

Everything's going to be all right.

No...

No it's not.

Oh my God.

You've humiliated me enough.

I'm not prepared to accept public ridicule as well.

You can't publish without my say so.

You gave me your word.

Well, as you said, I'm not to be trusted.

Ruth Penny.

Now we should probably talk.

That's a good idea, Minister.

Once the country reads

what a philandering security liability you are,

they will be dying to hear your side of the story.

A security liability?

Well MI5 never came because

you never told them the document was missing.

I bet they didn't even know you brought it out here.

You risked our nation's nuclear defences

all for a dirty weekend in the country.

She worked out most of that on her own, to be fair.

You knew she was a journalist?

And you shared top secret information with her?

You're finished, Gillespie.

If my career is over,

I am sure as hell taking you down with me.

Well, that's that then, isn't it.

Maybe he didn't mean what he said.

Why did I let Ruth stay in that house?

What was I thinking?

She can be very persuasive.

Maybe Miss Thimble's hiring.

You've come to dance on my grave?

Tomorrow's edition. Sneak preview.

In the interest of national security.

What about Mary Sparkes?

Jocelyn Kelly lost her temper

and pushed her down the stairs.

Just as every other newspaper in the country

will be reporting tomorrow.

But your big scoop...

The Times, your dad.

There'll be other scoops.

Thank you.

There is more good news.

I bluffed. Told him I'd print unless he walked.

Good work.

I think you owe me a drink.

I think I probably do.

You in, Sister?

Peggy?

Yep.

Come, pull your legs up.

Why not?

I can't believe she did that.

She must absolutely love Great Slaughter.

Hmm? Unbelievable.