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Agatha Christie's Poirot (1989–2013): Season 1, Episode 6 - Triangle at Rhodes - full transcript

Just as his holiday on the island of Rhodes is coming to an end, Hercule Poirot finds himself investigating a murder when one of the hotel guests, Valentine Chantry, is poisoned in the bar. The drink she had was apparently meant for her husband and had been bought by Douglas Gold, with whom she had been carrying on since her arrival. Gold is arrested and everyone assumes he is the perpetrator but Poirot thinks otherwise however and looks to the other guests in the hotel as more likely suspects. When a local pathologist confirms that the poison used was local in origin, Poirot realizes that only when he learns who purchased the poison will he learn the killer's identity.


Oh, yes?

And what time do we call this,
then, eh?

I don't want to get you
out of bed.

Here.

No good leaving all this stuff
for 56B.

They're on holiday.

What, all of them?

Oh, yeah.

That Captain Hastings
has gone off shooting things,

and the secretary's gone off to
visit her sister in Folkestone.

What about the French one?

Somewhere foreign.

Sent me a postcard
with goats on it.

Oh, yeah, I remember.

Let's hope it keeps fine
for him.

No, no, no, no.

No, no, no.
I'm sorry.

Please, miss.

Thank you.

Ohh!

Pardon.

Mr. Poirot.

How pleased I am to see you.

Mademoiselle...

Lyall.

Pamela Lyall.

I recognized you at the hotel.

I'm a great admirer.

Ah.

May I cling to you, Mr. Poirot?

Yes, it would be a pleasure,
mademoiselle.

You are in danger?

It's against all my instincts,
but the man persists.

And with the hotel being
so empty,

there's a great danger
of my getting stuck

for the rest of the holiday.

Ah, the galloping Major Barnes.

Here for the fishing,
he tells me.

Ah.

The behavior
of the English abroad

is something
I have always found peculiar.

At least he's not
a bottom-pincher, Mr. Poirot.

Look at them -- troublemakers,
always looking for a fight.

Perhaps.

But for me, the English
is more cold-blooded.

His violence is more calculated.

We've spent all day at sea,
and my wife's exhausted,

so let's get to the hotel
as fast as possible,

with our luggage intact.

Make sure it's secure and stay
close behind the other car.

Excuse me, but aren't these
the cars from the Palace Hotel?

Yes. Well?

Well, we're staying there, too,
you know.

Well, you'll have to wait
for them to come back.

The hotel, please, driver.

And try not to hit anything.

Come on, darling.

Thank you.

Good heavens,

I do believe
that's Valentine Chantry.

Ah.

Dakers, it was.

I shouldn't think this place
was quite her style --

a bit quiet for her.

She's rather marvelous,
isn't she?

Mm.

She has married again?

Number five, I think.

Oh, mon Dieu.

Looks a bit of
a gorilla, doesn't he?

An animal attraction,
would you think, Mr. Poirot?

Well...

Well, well, well,
things are looking up.

Hello?

Hello.

Been looking all over the place
for you, little lady.

Not out fishing today, Major?

Yes, earlier.

Didn't have much luck.

Perhaps, Major Barnes, you were
fishing too close to the shore.

I noticed you by the harbor.

I expect you're right.

Too much damn dynamiting
going on.

Dynamiting?

The fishermen drop dynamite
around here.

Damned lazy beggars.

The fish, not being fools,
keep out at sea.

At last.

Now, will you get
the luggage off immediately

and take it straight
to our rooms?

I do not understand
why we weren't met properly.

Well, I think
it's simply wonderful.

It's so unspoiled.

Eh, it's pretty enough, but
it's such a long way to come,

such an awful journey.

You'll enjoy bathing
and lazing about.

We could have done that
in Brixen.

Why you wanted to drag us
all this way...

You'll adore it here, I know.

I can see that you mean to enjoy
yourself.

Oh, well.

Give me a bath and a bed,

and perhaps it'll be better
in the morning.

-Tony, darling?
-Yes?

My cigarette case.

She makes me feel
so undercooked.

I'm so patchy still.

She really is so lucky.

Oh, dear, that bathing dress
is a mistake.

Morning.

Good morning.

Lovely day.

Shall I put yours here, darling?

Yes, so I can get
a little bit of sun.

I feel so dreadfully faded,

but I freckle
rather than going brown.

Have you ever been to Rhodes
before?

No. It's lovely, isn't it?

Such a clever idea of yours,
darling.

Scarcely heard of the place.

I thought it was Greek, maybe,
or Turkish.

No idea it was Itai.

If it were only nearer England.

Did you come from Brindisi?

Yes, came on the ferry
last night.

The sea
is simply lovely, so blue.

I think we ought to go in now,
Douglas, don't you?

Oh, yes, rather.

Uh, in a minute.

Just pull that towel a little
flatter, would you, darling?

Tony, darling, would you mind?

What's that?

I've left a little pot of
face cream in the bathing cart.

I meant to bring it with me.

Do get it for me.
There's an angel.

Yes, darling.

He must be crazy about her.
Wouldn't you say?

It's lovely, Douglas, so warm!

Do come!

Aren't you going in?

Oh, I, uh -- I like to get
well hotted up first.

I like my dip last thing.

Oh, dear, I can't get this thing
undone.

I'm hopeless.
I...

Um, I wonder -- would you...

Can I do it for you?

Oh, thank you.
You are kind.

I'm such a fool
at undoing things.

Oh, you are a clever boy.

You've done it.

We must have been
on the same ferry.

Mm.

It's Douglas, isn't it?

Yes. Douglas Gold.

Darling, Douglas has just been
so kind to me.

My husband, Tony.

-How do you do?
-How do you do?

And your wife's called?

Marjorie.

Yes.

Don't you think
that human beings

tend to reproduce
certain patterns, Mr. Poirot?

Stereotyped patterns?

Prcisment, mademoiselle.

Your wife's not with you
this afternoon, Douglas?

No, uh, Marjorie wasn't feeling
too well.

Probably too much sun
this morning.

So I came alone.

Ah.

Well, we'll just have to make
the best of it on our own.

Ah.

Mme. Gold.

Mr. Poirot.

Hello. I was noticing
this particular detail --

they have some freshwater
and seawater poison.

-Fascinating.
-Yes.

And what a beautiful day.

Ah.

Douglas and I are always lucky
in our weather.

You do not bathe this afternoon,
madame?

No, only once a day.

We'd arranged to go on a tour
of the old city this afternoon,

but somehow or other
we missed each other.

Indeed?

You know, Mr. Poirot,

when one sees so much trouble
and unhappiness

and so many couples divorcing
each other

and that sort of thing,

one does feel very grateful
for one's own happiness.

It is pleasant to hear you
say so, madame.

That's why I feel so sorry
for people who aren't happy.

Mrs. Chantry, for instance.

Mme. Chantry?

In a way,
one feels sorry for her.

I mean, in spite of all
her money and good looks,

she's the sort of woman,
I think,

that men would get tired of
very easily.

Don't you think so?

Men are just like children.

They believe anything.

I gather you are a detective,
Mr. Poirot.

Well...

How long are you in Rhodes?

Sadly, madame,
I leave on Saturday.

Douglas, a pink gin.

I positively must have
a pink gin.

Have a nice bathe, Tony,
darling?

Hasn't it been a marvelous day,
Miss Lyall?

Oh.

Tony?

Good afternoon.

Shall we wander over there?

Mm.

Valentine certainly has
her methods.

Mademoiselle,
I do not like all this.

Don't you?
Nor do I.

No, let's be honest.

I suppose I do like it, really.

In fact, I've arranged
a little excursion for tomorrow.

Two hours of driving
and all this ludicrous climbing,

and all there is at the top
is another ruin.

But wait till you see the view.

Ah.

I say.

C'est magnifique.

Here it is!

Look.
Look -- a snake!

How beautiful.

Well, be careful.

I don't like it here.
I think we should go back.

Damn place.

It isn't safe to walk in.

They're everywhere.

In the old days, Rhodes was
known as the "island of snakes."

You can see the markings
so clearly.

Mm -- as a warning, madame.

Nature gives to the quarry
of the viper

a chance to identify
his attacker.

If every killer was
as clearly marked,

I would be without a job.

Do we have to have this?

We can't hear ourselves speak.

Let us not be disrespectful
of the local customs, Commander.

I can't understand
a word of this menu.

Well, take mine.
This one's got some English.

Translation's a bit rough,
though.

Is this wine?

Looks like pink gin.

I think it's terrible.

People are doing it
all the time.

Well, I belong to
the old-fashioned generation

that doesn't believe in divorce.

The sort of attitude there is
to life nowadays

that if you do a thing
and you don't like it,

you get yourself out of it
as quickly as possible --

easy marriage, easy divorce --
I hate that.

You seem to know a great deal
about marriage, Mrs. Gold.

Oh, I'm sorry.

I-I-I --

It strikes me
you've been listening

to far too many scandalmongers.

Just because a woman
is good-looking,

people come down on her
like a ton of bricks.

Oh, but I didn't mean --

Oh, dear!

Marjorie?

There was no need for that!

Yes, well, I can't imagine

why you brought your wife
on holiday, anyway, Gold.

What do you mean?

Because you only have eyes
for Valentine.

Don't be ridiculous.
You must be drunk.

If you and my wife think
you can put this one over on me,

you're very much mistaken.

I'll not be got rid of
as easily as all that.

Ladies and gentlemen,
are you ready to order now?

Ah. Very good.

The "bowels in spit" --

I have your assurance it is
the kidneys of a lamb,

but on a skewer, yes?

Ah, c'est parfait.

Then, for me, the bowels
in spit, efharisto.

Oh, Mr. Poirot.

Forgive me -- I thought
I might be alone here.

May I give you some advice,
madame?

Oh, yes, yes, please.

Bien.

Your husband loves you.
I know it.

How can you know it?

She's got hold of him,
body and soul.

He doesn't think of me anymore.
I don't count.

Oh, I can't bear it.

I can't bear it.

Then my advice to you, madame,
is this --

Leave this place
before it is too late.

Too late?

What do you mean?

You're frightening me.

Yes.

That is my intention.

But why?

Why?

It is my advice to you.

Leave this island
if you value your life.

Merci.

We'll be sorry to see you go,
M. Poirot.

Your tickets are with
the passport.

And my reservation --
it has been confirmed?

A sleeping berth
on the night boat.

Merci.

Oh, will you be taking
dinner tonight?

Um... yes, something
light before I travel.

Major Barnes has provided
the kitchen with some barbouni.

Ah.

The red mullet would be ideal.
Merci.

Catch them unawares first thing
in the morning.

No, no, no, no, no.
Mon Dieu.

No, please! Aah!

With care, with care.

Regardez. Regardez.
Look. Look. Look.

L.

Les autres ici.
The others here.

Of course it's all lies,
but he's infatuated.

He says he wants a divorce.

I don't know what to do.

It's terrible.

Mademoiselle.

It's such a shame
you're leaving, Mr. Poirot.

I don't know how you can
when things are just hotting up.

The Chantrys and the Golds

are getting into
more and more of a pickle.

It's all rather shocking.

Marjorie thinks that Valentine
will divorce Chantry

and marry Douglas.

Really?

Look -- they're over there.

I can't see Chantry giving up
without a fight.

Who could have predicted
such passion, Mr. Poirot?

There is a crisis of the nerves,
certainly.

Look.

Hello.

This is a bit silly, isn't it?

I quite agree -- pointless,
spoiling the whole picture show.

Quite my feelings exactly.

Shall we, uh, go in together?

Oh, dear.

I was half hoping there'd be
a murder so you'd stay.

Mm.

Garon?

Why don't you take a picture
of us two?

Oh, all right.

And then we'll...

The button is on the side.

-We'll just line up.
-All right.

How's that? How's that?

Jolly good shot.

The ladies have gone off
on an evening drive --

something of a reconciliation,
I gather.

Ah.

Well, there's been too much
bad temper and bickering.

Indeed.

Sorry you're leaving, Poirot.

Not had much time for a chat.

Well, you've been very busy,
Major, eh?

The mullet was excellent.

Oh, glad you enjoyed it.

Oh, yes.
Where did you buy it?

What do you mean?

I had to go a long way out
for that.

No, no, no, no, Major.

Your interests
are closer to the shore.

My car, please.

Certainly, M. Poirot.

The Italians, I notice,

are strengthening their harbor
defenses for military use?

You're very sharp-eyed,
Mr. Poirot.

Mm.

The sharp eyes are important
in both our professions, Major.

-Efharisto.
-Merci.

Well done.

Well done, Douglas.

Thank you.
Shall I?

Have a good game, gentlemen?

Capital.

Fellow's too good to me --
ran out with a break of 46.

Pure fluke, I assure you.

What'll you have?

A pink gin, please.

And you, Major?
This one's on me.

Very kind of you.
I'll have a whiskey and soda.

And two whiskey and sodas.

My bags, parakal.

I've worked pretty hard
all my life, you know --

no time for holidays.

Don't get me wrong.

I've seen a bit of life these
past few years, I can tell you.

Excuse me, Major.

Tony, darling, it's too divine,

the most marvelous idea
of Mrs. Gold's.

You all ought to have come.

Where have you been, darling?

Up to the Temple of Apollo
to see the sunset.

There's the most marvelous view,
darling, right across to Turkey.

We must go tomorrow.

Sounds like a good idea.

Miss Lyall, what'll you have?

Oh, thanks -- a sidecar, please.

Darling?

Pink gin.

Oh, have that one.

I'll order another.

Ooh, rather.

Mrs. Gold?

Orangeade, please.

Barman, could we have a sidecar
and a pink gin and --

Ooh, I needed that.

Are you sure you wouldn't like
something stronger, Mrs. Gold?

Oh, all right, then --
gin and ginger beer, please.

Darling!

Well, it feels like
a celebration.

Right you are, then --
gin and ginger beer it is.

Barman?

Yes, monsieur?

Would you mind stepping
over here, please, sir?

Oh, Miss Lyall.

What I've been meaning to say
all the time we've been here

is that your clothes are so
clever -- such a marvelous line.

Are you all right?

What's the matter?

I need a drink of some water.

Oh.

Waiter?

I f-- I feel rather queer.

Something gone down
the wrong way?

I can't --
I can't get my breath.

Oh.

Waiter, parakal --
quickly, some water.

What's up?

Commander Chantry!

What's the matter, Val?

I don't know.

That drink tasted queer.

The pink gin? This?

Give her some room.

Drink this, Val.

Try to drink this.

Who knows what to do?

I'll get a doctor.

That was my drink, Gold.
I'd not touched it.

What the hell did you put in it?

She's dead.

You killed her.

You meant to kill me,
but you killed her.

I'll see you hang for this,
Gold.

I'll see you hang for this.

I-I -- I didn't do anything.

I have told you again and again!

I am on holiday!

I am a Belgian citizen!

You have no right to detain me!

You are not to leave this island

until you explain all movement
exactly.

How can I leave this island
now?!

My ship has gone, you idiot!

Mlle. Lyall!

What is the matter?

What are you doing here?

Mr. Poirot, thank God.

I thought you'd left.

You must come quickly.

Valentine Chantry is dead.

Ah.

Someone poisoned
her husband's glass,

and she drank it.

I feared such an outcome.

Then why didn't you do
something?

Do what?

What is there to do
before the event?

Tell the police that someone
has murder in their heart?

No.

I will come.

And now, monsieur, I have more
pressing matters to attend to.

I am a detective, not a spy.

Kindly send my bags
to the hotel Palazzo di Rodi.

Oh, I was attracted to her.

Who wouldn't be?

It was within the bounds
of propriety, Poirot.

Ah.

Did she confide in you?

A little.

Was Valentine Chantry
a happy woman, would you say?

In her marriage, you mean?

She was rather lost and afraid.

Afraid of what?

Of Chantry.

Ah.

She thought he was jealous.

Of you?

Of anyone who paid attention
to her.

She was so helpless
in many ways, Poirot.

I-I felt protective towards her.

But somehow everything got
out of hand --

Chantry behaving like a bull
at a gate,

then Marjorie
getting hysterical.

M. Gold...

do you love your wife?

Of course I do.

She's all the whole world to me.

You are a Catholic?

Yes.

Your faith will be
a great consolation to you.

Poirot --

Poirot, they'll --
they'll hang me for this.

Not while I have the power
to prevent it, monsieur.

...due, uno, due, uno, due...

The poison was contained
in the empty bottle,

which we discovered in
Mr. Gold's dinner-jacket pocket.

It is safe to touch.

The only fingerprints on it
were Douglas Gold's.

Mrs. Chantry was
a very beautiful woman.

A public affair was taking place
between her and Douglas Gold,

but Commander Chantry was
a very possessive husband.

He would not relinquish
his wife.

The lover poisons
the husband's glass,

and then, just when
his attention is elsewhere,

the wife drinks it instead.

Ecco!

Oh, it is a scene worthy
of the Italian opera, Inspector.

I assume that you asked
Douglas Gold

to empty the contents
of his pockets himself?

Yes.

Hmm.

Then it is hardly surprising

that his fingerprints should be
found on the container, is it?

Do you not find it peculiar,
Inspector,

that this calculating murderer
should be discovered

with this very bottle of poison
in his pocket?

There is no doubt, signor.

When the cold-blooded Englishman
comes out into the sun,

perhaps it warms his passion.

Ah, basta!

But M. Gold does not admit
his guilt.

On the contrary --
he protests his innocence.

Just because the wrong person
died, that is no defense.

What do you mean,
I can't pick up my passport?

They are my express instructions
from the police, Commander.

I want my wife's body given
a decent burial back in England,

not in some outpost
of the Italian empire.

Now, there's a ship leaving
this afternoon,

and there's going to be a hell
of a stink if I'm not on it.

Commander Chantry.

There is no recompense I can
make for the loss of your wife,

nothing I can say to you
that's adequate,

only that I have lost a husband.

Oh, Mr. Poirot, if only we had
taken your advice.

Advice?
What advice?

Mr. Poirot recommended that we
leave the island some days ago.

Then I wish you'd warned me
also, Mr. Poirot.

Ah.

You are going to visit
your husband, madame?

Yes.

Then believe me when I tell you
that he is innocent.

And you may rest assured
that he will soon be released.

Excuse me.

If you please,
one tisane on the terrace.

Merci.

What's going off, Poirot?

You make all these
confounded mysteries,

and it's useless asking you
to explain.

I have told you --
Douglas Gold is innocent.

But that means that one of us
poisoned the glass.

Indeed.

Merci.

And we shall know who

when we know from where
the poison came.

But there we have the problem,
eh?

The police will not allow me
any further facilities.

For them,
the case is dried and cut.

Then... I may be able
to help you.

I trust I may speak
among friends?

Mm.

The forensic officer
is a friend of mine.

You understand, Mr. Poirot, this
is a matter of extreme delicacy.

Mais oui.

Came out here on holiday,
M. Poirot,

fell in love with the place.

You have examined the poison,
monsieur?

Yes, it's local --
Rhodian, very old remedy.

The Knights of St. John
were hospitables

before they were warriors.

It's one of their potions,

medicinal in its diluted form,
lethal when neat.

A snake bite.

It's from the fangs
of the horned viper.

The island's still full
of superstition.

It's called vilitilio occius.

Where would such a poison
be obtained?

Not on the shelves
of a pharmacist.

Some herbalist or quack.

If you really wanted to search,
try the streets around here.

Blackshirts.

There are so many streets.

Where do we begin?

Mademoiselle, we must now appear

the mad English
who go out in the midday sun.

And we must trust in the old
town to give up her secrets.

Come.

Ah.

Parakal -- vilitilio occius?

Vilitilio occius?

Efharisto.

Vilitilio occius?

Parakal -- vilitilio occius?

Efharisto.

Parakal.

Vilitilio occius?

Efharisto.

It will be all right.

Yiayia!

No, no, you don't understand.

I don't want to buy some poison.

I want to know if you sold
any to someone else.

Yesterday or the day before.

Anglos?

Tall?

Megalos?

And his hair --
was it like mine or darker?

Not men -- lady.

Yes, English lady.

Poirot, the poison was sold
to Mrs. Gold.

Of course.

So, you comprehend?

But whyever did she want to help
her husband poison Chantry?

Ah, my dear Mlle. Pamela,

it is not a question

of who failed to murder
the Commander Chantry,

but who --
and for what reason --

succeeded in murdering his wife.

A disturbance?

Yes, the passports were stolen.

He was distracted by a scream.

Mrs. Gold was disturbed.

A mantis flew in
and settled on a pillow.

After last night's terrible
events, he left the desk.

Is Commander Chantry
still in the hotel?

Bien.

Marjorie Gold and Chantry?

Oh, yes, Mlle. Pamela --
the eternal triangle.

You remember?

But not the one
that you were supposed to see.

It was only the reactions
of Mme. Gold

and the jealous blusters
of the Commander Chantry

that made you think
that Douglas Gold was in love

with the Commander's wife,
Valentine Chantry.

Oh, yes, it was skillfully done.

You see, Marjorie Gold
and the Commander Chantry

had started their affair
in England.

They planned to meet here
and stage their crime publicly.

Chantry inserted the poison
into his own drink

and passed it to his wife.

She drank it, and then,
in the confusion,

he slipped the bottle of poison
into the pocket of Douglas Gold.

How awful.

But now we must stop them before
they can leave the island.

Already they have obtained
their passports.

I will check the boat
from Brindisi.

You ask if anyone has seen them.

Excuse me.

Are there English people
on board?

-English people?
-No, no, no, sorry.

Brindisi?

-Grazie.
-Prego.

Major Barnes!

Ah.

I have to keep up appearances,
Poirot.

The swordfish is five days old.

It's not the Italians
I've been keeping an eye on.

It's the English.

Commander Chantry
has taken to fishing.

He and Mrs. Gold are heading out
to the Turkish coast.

When did you first realize
about Mrs. Gold?

Her performance was without
fault, except in one particular.

Poirot! Ahead!

That scene she created
at the cabana --

she suggested that her husband
wanted a divorce.

Eh bien -- I had just observed
that M. Gold was a Catholic.

The whole thing
did not make sense,

unless of course we were
watching the elaborate charade.

Tony, look -- a boat!

Could he be armed, Poirot?

I do not think they would dare
risk bringing the gun

onto the island.

Their method is more discreet.

And I can deal
with the commander.

That bloody Belgian busybody!

Can't you make it go faster?

Faster! Faster!

Dynamite?

Yes, dynamite --
get the dynamite.

Get away the boat fast!

-What is it?
-What is it?

He's got some dynamite!

Keep away!
Keep away!

Commander Chantry, drop the
dynamite, or we shall fire!

Stand off!
Stand off!

Ah, mon Dieu.

-Is he all right?
-You crazy English!

If you do not stop
trying to kill each other,

I shall put you all
under arrest!

That includes you,
Signor Poirot!

Poor Douglas Gold.

He's staying on, you know,
to the end.

Well, he should leave.

I told his wife to leave,
but she took no notice.

Can't you stay on
a few more days?

Impossible.

Je regrette.

No, no.

I really enjoyed
our little adventure.

Ah.

Ah, Poirot, trying to sneak off
the island again, are you?

Not at all, Major, not at all.

I thought I should leave

before the inspector changes
his mind, eh?

Look, if you see me
at the harbor,

pretend you don't know me.

Ah.

Where are you headed, Major?
Abyssinia?

How the Hades did you know that?

Well, I, uh -- I assumed
you'd want to be there

for the ostrich-shooting season.

Au revoir.

Goodbye, M. Poirot.

Oh.

I hope we shall meet again.

Au revoir, mademoiselle.