Marple (2004–2013): Season 6, Episode 2 - Greenshaw's Folly - full transcript
When old family friend Louisa Oxley visits Miss Marple one stormy night seeking help, Miss Marple decides to send her and her son, Archie, to safety at the labyrinthine estate of Greenshaw's Folly, owned by Miss Marple's good friend Katherine Greenshaw, an eccentric botanist and the last surviving Greenshaw. Louisa becomes Miss Greenshaw's secretary, and quickly attracts the attention of the gardener Alfred Pollock and actor Nat Fletcher. Things turn sinister when the Folly's faithful butler, Walter Cracken, is killed in what appears to be a tragic accident. Then a guest at the house, Horace Bindler, disappears without a trace. Miss Marple is convinced all is unwell, and her suspicions are confirmed when Miss Greenshaw herself is brutally murdered. Suspects are everywhere, but none can imagine the secrets, both past and present, which Miss Marple uncovers.
Where are we going, Mummy?
St Mary Mead. Not far.
Aunt Jane will look after us.
Louisa! Oh!
You'll be safe here tonight.
Tomorrow we'll go somewhere
Philip can't find you.
Here we are. Katherine Greenshaw
needs a secretary.
You can hide away here.
Beware Decimus. He is prone to
toppling.
Miss Greenshaw's father.
And eminent scientist.
His laboratory still occupies the
east wing.
Strictly out of bounds now, mind.
Far too dangerous.
This is Mrs Creswell, the
housekeeper. Hello.
You must be Archie.
Archie, this is your mummy's room and
that one there is yours.
And I'm going to look after you both.
I do all the work round here.
Hello, Mrs Oxley. It's very decent
of you to help us out.
We're in a bit of a pickle.
Miss Greenshaw helps everyone out.
Isn't that right, Mr Cracken?
Aye, it's her nature.
Come to the window. You can see her
in person.
There.
She's weird.
Don't touch!
Oh, let him be. It's only a harp.
If you can play the National Anthem
on that, I'll give you a toffee.
Sit down.
Oh, why in heaven's name would he
want to sit down?
I wouldn't want to sit down
and listen to a couple of old
biddies dribbling on.
Just go and explore, boy. Go!
Be careful, darling.
Has he got spirit?
I like a lad with spirit.
He has, Miss Greenshaw.
But he's had rather a rum do of late.
We're extremely grateful to you for
taking us in.
Well, it's all Jane's doing, Mrs
Oxley.
Yes, Aunt Jane has been wonderful.
I didn't know she was your aunt.
Oh, she's not really.
We just call her that.
I'm compiling a codex of medicinal
plants.
It is my life's work,
but I can barely see the wretched
book any more.
Right, tell us your qualifications.
Can you read and write?
Yes. Yes.
Typing? Bearable.
Bad habits? Men.
Ooh... You'll do.
But I warn you, there's no mucking
about,
no running off into town to play
bingo.
We've got 7,000 species to get
through.
Stay as long as you like
and I'll pay you the same as the
girl at the solicitor's...
What's her name? Cynthia. Cynthia.
Is that all settled?
Thank you. Thank you both so much.
I think we'll get on very well,
Cynthia.
Er, I'm Louisa.
Well, who's Cynthia?
Cresswell? Where the devil's our
tea?
Are you boiling it leaf by leaf?
No, I'm not, I'm just waiting until
you asked for it.
That just means it's probably cold.
Have you brought my drops?
How are they, Katherine?
They're absolutely awful!
Oh, this is empty. I've got to brew
another batch.
Who are you?
Are you sure you don't mind looking
after Archie
while his mother's working?
I'd be delighted. Not far to come.
He's a good little chap.
Archie, what's the matter?
- There was a man.
- What kind of man?
He had blood on his hands.
Did he have... black hair and
dark eyes?
That's Alfred, our new gardener.
He is nothing to be afraid of.
But he was cross with me.
Gardeners usually are.
As a rule, they're rather
ill-mannered.
Have some cake.
Afternoon, folks.
Oh, Nat!
Have you met my nephew?
He's an actor.
My first dress rehearsal is tonight.
I'm taking every opportunity
to run through my lines.
The Tangled Web for one week only
at Boreham Theatre.
Lucky I found some good digs, eh?
Oh...
Toodle-oo.
You'll find all my reference books
in here.
Ah! Hard at work, Mr Bindler?
Oh, I fear my task is endless,
Miss Greenshaw.
You have a superfluity of treasures.
Horace Bindler. Architectural
historian. How do you do?
How do you do?
Mr Bindler's also staying here.
He is preparing a book on
19th-century country homes.
That is so. And this one is a prime
example of what one might call
the catastrophic style.
My grandfather designed it himself.
Entirely by himself.
He's visited the Gothic cathedrals
of France
and also it seems the minuets of
Istanbul at some point.
It's not called Greenshaw's Folly
for nothing.
Thank you for tea, Katherine.
I really must go. Oh. Do you have
a pressing appointment?
Just my knitting circle at the local
orphanage.
It's an engagement I never miss.
Well, then, please.
Allow me to convey you.
I have for some time been planning
to sample the fleshpots of Boreham
Lovell.
The life of Decimus Greenshaw is
unaccountably shrouded in mystery.
Do you know anything about him?
I believe he was a scientist.
He had a laboratory here,
but... they won't let me in it.
Could make a nice detail for my
book.
Do you happen to know where they
keep the key?
Why don't you ask Miss Greenshaw?
Decimus was her father after all.
Oh, I have, but she just pulls
a face.
Perhaps someone in the village will
know something. Perhaps they do.
If you spend enough money in the
fleshpots of Boreham Lovell,
I daresay they'll offer it up.
Oh...
Do you know what this is?
Deadly nightshade.
That's poisonous!
Quite right.
But plants are awfully like people.
Even the bad ones have a good side.
You see, I use these roots
to distil the chemical called
atropine.
It soothes sore eyes like mine.
Thank you, Cracken.
Cracken will look after you
for a little bit.
Very good, ma'am.
Afternoon, Cicely. Ladies.
Why didn't you invite your friend
in?
Well, hardly a friend, Grace.
I made his acquaintance an hour ago.
He just drove me back from
Greenshaw's Folly
where he's writing a book.
What were you doing up there?
I just went to visit Katherine
Greenshaw, Cicely.
I can't tell you how grateful
we at St Faith's are
for all your support, ladies.
Your scarves and matching mittens
always go down a storm at our
bazaars.
How many do you have in the orphanage
at present, Father Brophy?
32, Miss Beauclerk.
How we manage to feed them all...
I don't know.
Now, then, young man,
have you heard of the Greenshaw
ghost?
Just a little lad, he was,
not much older than you.
They say he met a terrible end
and this his ghost, his spirit,
still roams the Folly,
looking for folk to lure to their
doom.
I've only seen him the once,
just out there on the landing.
But he was as pale as that milk of
yours, Archie.
As pale as milk.
Archie Oxley, I'm sure Mr Cracken
has better things to do.
I'll be needing the long ladder.
Surely it can wait until tomorrow.
No, it can't wait. It's dark.
Someone will have an accident, and we
don't want that.
It went bloody well, actually.
The director says he's got me on
line for a lead.
What are you hoping for?
Hamlet, of course.
Come here, you little blighter.
Did Mr Cracken tell you the house was
haunted?
Well, I wonder who the ghostie is
coming for next?
Me, perhaps?
You? Boo!
So he was found at midnight?
Well, erm...
there was rather an almighty crash.
I almost jumped out of my skin.
I thought the old place was finally
falling down.
And did Mr Cracken have any health
issues that you were aware of?
We believed he'd conquered his
demons.
That was full yesterday afternoon!
I'd say his demons got the better of
our Walter Cracken.
Accidents will happen, one supposes.
Especially where single malt is
involved.
But for all these years he hasn't
touched a drop.
I just don't believe my butler was
a drunk!
Oh, Jane! Um, do you know
Miss Marple, Inspector Welch?
Miss Marple.
Yes, of course I know Miss Marple.
How do you do, Inspector?
Sergeant Cayley?
Yes, well, thank you, Miss Greenshaw.
You've been most helpful.
Come on, boys, keep up!
He's clammed up.
Doesn't trust anyone.
Are YOU happy to stay here, Louisa?
Given what's happened?
Surely Cracken's death was nothing
but a... dreadful accident.
We've nowhere else to go, Aunt Jane.
I have to be somewhere no-one would
think to look, especially Archie's
father.
And he has your address, you know.
Aunt Katherine asked if you could
come down for some dictation.
She needs to work,
take her mind off things.
Understandable. She's had a shock.
I'll look after Archie.
- When's your first night?
- Tonight.
Oh, well, break a leg,
isn't that what they say?
Poor old Cracken. Must've fallen
a fair distance.
I ought to go and offer my
condolences to Miss Greenshaw.
Coppers probably think I done it.
Must be your face.
It's rather a large house, isn't it?
Sometimes when I'm alone in my
house,
I get scared of all the creaks and
groans.
Really?
That's a secret. Don't tell anyone.
I don't want them to think
I'm completely bonkers. No, Miss.
Has anything funny ever happened to
you?
I promise to keep it a secret,
if it did.
I saw a ghost.
Did you?
Yes.
Where was that?
Here.
Here? On the landing.
Just like Mr Cracken said.
As pale as milk.
Mr Cracken was spinning a yarn,
Archie.
No, I did see the ghost!
When?
Last night. I was going to...
Ah! The intrepid explorers.
Where are you going?
Archie and I have been viewing
the splendours of the house.
We've just seen the crockets
on the East Tower.
Remarkable, aren't they?
Indeed they are.
I don't think I could be as brave as
you if I'd just seen a ghost.
In fact, I think you could do with
a reward for being so courageous.
How would you like to go and see
Mr Fletcher in his play tomorrow?
Oh!
Afternoon, Miss.
Archie, isn't it?
Ever held one of these?
Go on.
Here you go, get your hands on that.
Archie the archer, eh?
How did you get those bruises?
I got into trouble.
Right... Come here.
One finger above, two below,
all right?
Eye on the target, pull as hard as
you can.
That's the one! Good lad.
'Polio Trials.'
The sap of Betula lenta, more
commonly known as sweet birch,
is a source of methyl salicylate -
M-E-T-H-Y-L...
What is it, Louisa? Sorry, Miss
Greenshaw, it's getting late.
I really ought to fetch in my son.
Archie?
Aunt Jane?
Archie, it's getting dark!
Ill met by moonlight,
proud Titania!
Oh...
I know where they are.
Come with me.
What were you doing in the bushes?
Audition speech.
Shakespeare sounds better in situ.
- He's playing bows and arrows.
- Steady. Arms straight.
Eye on the target.
Are you out of your mind?
You don't give a weapon to a child.
It's just a game, Louisa.
He's perfectly safe.
Oh... Sorry.
Your hands are filthy.
We're going inside.
Nice when you make a good impression,
isn't it? Great!
A toast.
To a fine butler, a true gentleman
and...
Please.
Father Brophy,
I think that's quite enough.
Ah, Mr Bindler. Mulled wine?
Mulled wine BEFORE dinner!
How exquisitely rural! Yes, please.
Are your investigations bearing
fruit?
The Greenshaws are a fascinating
family.
The fruit hangs low on the bough.
All one has to do is pick it.
Thank you.
So, when is everyone coming to
Boreham Theatre?
Think what it will be like
when I'm famous,
to say you saw me in an early role.
Those film stars earn good money.
I'm a classical actor, sir.
I have no ambition to be
a film star.
Can one make a living on the stage,
Mr Fletcher?
Well, not in a Number Two Tour, no.
The rewards are so meagre that I've
often considered setting up
a charity,
like yours, Father,
just to make ends meet.
Oh, I say, steady on, there's no -
No, no, I didn't mean that.
Just that actors and orphans have
a lot in common, that's all.
Yes, but I rather think that orphans
are rather more deserving of our
generosity than actors.
Well, since I am both,
I stand to profit either way.
What is it?
The ghost! The ghost!
Where?
It's all right, darling.
I thought you could both do with
a nice cup of cocoa.
Oh, thank you,
Uh! That's Mr Bindler's bedtime
snack.
Ah. Not yet. It's too hot.
Oh, my God!
But where is Mr Bindler?
Good morning.
I wish it was, Miss Marple,
but Mr Bindler has vanished in the
night,
leaving me with a shocking awful
mess to clear up.
I saw the ghost again last night.
The same one? Pale and cloaked?
I do think you're brave, Archie.
So you really have no idea who
they're from?
Oh, what beautiful lilies!
Lilium rubellum, to be precise.
Louisa has a secret admirer.
It looks like there are presents
for everyone today. Archie.
From the nursery. Unopened.
An archery set.
Take it out and shoot something!
Thank you.
Stay near the house.
He can't do any harm.
The cup that cheers.
His fire hasn't been lit.
I tried to light it last night, but
Mr Bindler threw me out on my ear.
Said he was perfectly warm.
It was such a cold night.
Oughtn't you to answer that,
Mrs Cresswell?
Yes, well, that used to be
Mr Cracken's duty.
I suppose I ought to get used to
that now.
Just one more ruddy thing to think
about.
The production of this organic
compound is thought to be a natural
defence against...
That is odd.
Did you move the paperweight, Louisa?
I... No.
Excuse me, Miss Greenshaw.
Father Brophy is here to see you.
Huh...
She let you out, then? That's
unusual.
Mm...
Father Brophy.
Oh. Come to rattle his collecting
tin?
A rather large one, I'd say.
Rubbish!
It's regarding St Faith's.
Your remark to Mr Fletcher last
night
that an orphan's hand might be more
deserving than... Father...
Remember the children.
I will. Along with your gambling
debts and bar bills.
Every penny would go to those
that most need it.
You promised me that the last time.
St Faith's will be taken care of,
after I'm gone.
But if you could release some funds
now...
The answer is no, Father Brophy!
In you go.
Oh. Are you off, Father?
Just heading for the bus stop.
Hop in with us. Archie and I are
going to the theatre.
You? How did you find me?
Damn your eyes, Parsons.
You've double-crossed me!
I'll see you in hell for this!
You'll be waiting a long time,
Lambert!
Here's Mr Fletcher...
Hello?
Yes, I wonder, do you have
a reporter called Horace Bindler
working at the Clarion?
No, I've found his notebook,
I'm trying to return it to him.
You have a Horace Lethbridge?
Yes. Dapper, certainly.
Does he wear a bow-tie?
Well, could I speak to him, please?
You haven't seen him at all?
He was due to 'file copy' yesterday!
Yes, thank you so much.
We've been running a sweepstake,
Miss Marple.
The boys have been taking bets on
how long it would be before
you put in an appearance here.
Oh, that is a pity.
Why?
Book-making for cash is, as you know,
illegal,
and I'd hate to think of the trouble
your officers would be in
when the authorities find out.
Now hang on, just a...
I'd like you to do something for me.
And what would that be?
A postmortem.
But you're still alive, Miss Marple.
We generally reserve postmortems for
dead people. Very good.
But you can order a postmortem if
the death is held to be suspicious.
And whose death is held to be
suspicious?
Walter Cracken's.
A heavily drunk man falling from
a ladder
isn't what we regard as suspicious
circumstances.
But can we be sure he was drunk?
A postmortem would prove it.
A known alcoholic up a ladder at
midnight
with a decanter of whisky inside
him.
We'd be laughed out of the coroner's
office.
Well, I'm sure you know your
business.
Good day.
Sir. Something's come up.
We'll only here for a little while,
Archie.
And then we'll go to a new house and
start a new life.
Where?
I don't know.
Another country, maybe.
I don't want to go to another
country!
I want to stay here with Alfred!
What's the matter, Mummy?
Is it the ghost?
It can't be...
Mummy, I don't want to leave!
No, stop the car! Please stop the
car! No!
Are you all right, darling?
Don't worry, everything's going to
be all right. You hear me?
Everything is going to be
all right.
Are you all right?
Yes, yes.
Get out, come with me.
I'm as jumpy as Archie.
I was so sure I saw his face at the
window.
It seems so silly now.
I was very young when I met my
husband.
Philip was the debonair doctor.
But a sadist.
Each of these came with a promise
that he'd never hurt me again.
He's killed my belief that a person
can change.
You don't think a person can change?
No. I don't.
I should have left him a long time
ago, but...
but every time I tried, he'd
convince me that a child needs a
father.
A father who beat his own son?
That was the last straw.
I got out.
And now I'm terrified that it was
him who sent me those flowers...
just to let me know
he's coming for me.
I've met quite a few thugs like him.
Once the others tumbled 'em,
they... didn't stand a chance.
The others?
Inside. They'd get the bastards in an
empty cell and... teach 'em a lesson.
I moved around a lot when I was
a boy.
Just one... horrible situation to the
next.
Prison was just the next step.
Who's there?
It's Nat. Nat Fletcher.
Oh...
Er...
I was coming back from the theatre
and I noticed your car in the trees.
When I saw that it was empty,
the alarm bells sounded.
I thought you and I could form
a search party.
No need, it seems. You've been out
and searched already!
Yes. Hit a wet patch of leaves,
that's all.
Just a silly skid. Well, you can't
stay here in this dump.
Hot baths and your own beds
are what you need.
I'll take you back. Come on.
Come on, little chap. Wakey wakey!
Yes, thank you.
Archie?
Archie darling?
Good morning, Alfred. Lovely day.
Is it?
Father Brophy tells me you've become
quite the regular up at Greenshaw's
Folly.
Well, it is a fascinating place.
In fact, I've been wondering
if you might be able to shed
some light
on some of Mr Bindler's notes that
have come my way,
er, since you've lived in Boreham
your whole life.
Now, there's something about
St Faith's and Decimus Greenshaw...
The old professor?
Well, he was no philanthropist
as far as I'm aware, anyway.
What was his connection with the
orphanage?
What is 'The Great Race'?
I-I-I'm sorry.
I-I suddenly feel rather faint.
Cicely? I haven't been feeling myself
recently.
Sorry, I'll get you some water.
There you are.
Thank you.
Good morning.
Oh, you've er...
you've caught me before I'm properly
up and about, Miss Marple.
Your commitment puts me to shame.
Can I... Can I help with
preparations for the bazaar?
Oh, no. Thank you.
I'd like to see the orphanage records
if I may?
If you're up to showing me, that is.
Thank you.
That's odd. There's a gap.
The years between 1900 and 1910
are missing.
It's before my time, I'm afraid.
Alfred!
What the devil's going on?
Are you stealing from me?
I think we ought to have a talk.
You're right. People can't change.
Least I've still got a job.
Who's there?
Oh, Jane.
Have you heard about Mr Bindler?
The police have found his car in the
bottom of a lake.
Yes, I heard. And Bindler himself?
Any sign?
Strange business.
Mrs Cresswell asked me to give you
that. It was on the mat.
'Remember the children.
St Faith's Orphanage, 1899.'
Sent anonymously, I take it?
From someone with some connection
to my late father's work, I fear.
I had no idea the orphanage was
tangled up in it all.
Hm...
Want to tell me about it, Katherine?
What did he do?
What was 'The Great Race'?
Well, er...
They were trying to find a cure
for polio.
It was all very urgent.
I was too young to understand what
went on in his laboratory,
but there were rumours.
I recall hearing ambulances coming
and going,
raised voices in the night.
And these recent uncertainties have
brought back those memories -
thefts, accidents, objects
mysteriously moved.
And have these incidents continued
since Mr Bindler's disappearance?
Yes.
What is going on, Jane?
I ought to get around to making
my will, just in case I'm next!
Cicely!
The candlesticks were a gift from my
father when I graduated from Oxford.
I took a double first in chemistry,
you know.
But... it didn't teach me a lot about
people.
I was convinced that if I took that
young man under my wing,
that he would mend his ways.
You may still be right.
No.
When he came here, Alfred had just
served three months in Barlinnie
Prison for theft.
Old habits, it seems, die hard.
He's certainly proving a tonic
to Archie. And Louisa.
'Thou art thy mother's glass...
and she in thee.
Calls back the lovely April
of her prime.'
Shakespeare's sonnet, number...?
Three.
I say, Alfred. Auntie wants you
to turn over the compost heap.
Now, if you don't mind. Toodle-pip.
Yes, well, I should be getting back
to work too.
No rest for the wicked, eh?
What makes you think I'm wicked?
Everybody is.
Ah! Can I give you a ride into
Boreham, Miss Marple?
Oh, are you going that way?
Half-hour call's at 2:30.
In fact, you can hear my lines
on the way!
Oh!
I'll bring the motor round.
If you need anything else,
Mrs Oxley,
I'll be in my quarters
itemising the accounts.
Thank you, Mrs Cresswell. Another job
the butler's meant to do.
I'm still in here!
Help!
He shot me!
Miss Greenshaw!
Mrs Cresswell... Get help!
Help!
Help! Help!
You take the bus from Holborn Station
and it stops right outside
Somerset House.
Now, your instructions are in here.
Oh! A mission to London!
Cicely and Grace will be green with
envy.
Let's keep it to ourselves.
I suppose I should really take
a message for Father Brophy.
He's most likely visiting some needy
parishioner. Yes, most likely, dear.
St Faith's Orphanage. Can I help?
A what? Your... voice is very faint.
Yes, she's here.
Miss Greenshaw? Are you there?
Hello? Katherine?
Kath...
The line's gone dead.
She sounded most peculiar.
Sort of garbled. Drowsy.
What did she want?
Fish.
Fish?
Yes.
A mound of cod... or a pile of carp.
No, a heap of haddock.
I think that's what she said.
But surely it can wait?
No, I don't think so, Minnie.
I... I fear it can't.
Can your hear me? Miss Greenshaw!
I've called the police.
They're on their way.
Oh, come and let me out!
I can't. I'm locked in too!
Oh, God. Archie!
Help! Help!
Don't be afraid.
I won't let them hurt you again.
Greenshaw's not going to get away
with it this time, Edwin.
It's no good.
I can't climb down from here.
Do be careful, Mrs Oxley.
Oh! Oh, thank goodness!
Please! Please hurry! Miss
Greenshaw's been attacked!
She's in the house! Please hurry!
She's been badly hurt!
Oh, please, Edwin, do as I say.
It's for the best.
My name's Archie! Who are you?
Oh! Here's a stroke of luck.
Please, can you please help
dear Edwin?
The Greenshaws are trying to kill
him!
You'd better hop in, then, Archie.
No, Daddy!
Archie! Archie!
Archie! Archie! Come here!
Archie!
Constable! What's he doing down
there?
Archie!
Alfie!
Let's try the back.
Oh, thank heavens.
Please, Inspector!
Miss Greenshaw's been shot -
with an arrow!
She stumbled into the house!
And we're locked in!
I want the whole place searched.
Seal it off. Nobody leaves.
Archie? Where are you, darling?
I wouldn't go down there, Miss.
I have to find my son!
Oh, Aunt Jane! Archie's disappeared!
I think Philip may have found us!
Miss Marple, Mrs Oxley...
My son has been kidnapped!
I need you to stay calm.
You must find him!
Right now my prime concern is
the murder of Katherine Greenshaw.
Katherine? Murdered?
Mrs Oxley! That's is a murder scene.
do not disturb the evidence.
- Let's get everyone into the library.
- Please!
Inspector Welch will have my guts
for garters.
Could you please do as I ask?
Come and wait in the library.
I asked you to remain in the library,
Miss Marple. Hm?
Yes. Yes, it's just that I have some
information
I thought you might be interested
in.
At two minutes past four, I had a
very odd call from Miss Greenshaw,
asking for a 'heap of haddock'
or some such thing.
Miss Marple, at two minutes past
four, Miss Greenshaw had just been
shot in the neck.
You'd think she'd have mentioned that
before she asked you to go to the
fishmonger's.
All I'm interested in at the moment
is establishing who might have been
here at the time.
Now... go and wait in the library!
No-one comes in or out.
You see anyone coming in,
you come straight to me.
What the hell's going on?
Nathaniel Fletcher?
I'd be grateful if you'd go and wait
with the others, please.
Others? What others?
Follow me.
Round the back!
Come into the library, sir.
Mummy!
Oh, my darling! Thank God!
I've been so worried!
Where have you been?
With an old lady.
Then Daddy came and tried to take me
away.
But Alfred wouldn't let him.
He punched him on the nose!
Daddy was bleeding.
Where's Daddy now?
He gave us the slip, I'm afraid,
Mrs Oxley. We couldn't catch him.
So as an alternative you've arrested
the man who protected my son?
We haven't arrested him.
We've asked him in for questioning.
Pollock's, sir.
Found it in his cottage.
Seems he was all packed and ready
to scarper.
If you would care to have a seat,
Miss Marple.
Sir.
That MG we passed on the way up,
with the door open.
The lads on the gate say it's gone.
I think it was Philip Oxley's.
Have you told Control?
If you would care to have a seat,
Miss Marple.
Did you notice anyone hanging around
the vicinity
when you arrived in Mr Inch's taxi?
I did. Father Brophy.
He was hurrying towards
the bus stop. Brophy?
Bring him in.
But sir, he's a man of the cloth.
Bring him in!
And your mistress definitely shouted,
'HE shot me'?
Loud and clear, Inspector.
Mrs Oxley and I both heard her.
And then what happened?
Then she pointed across the lawn.
In which direction?
Towards the cottage where Alfred
Pollock lives.
And you say he always finishes
at four o'clock exactly?
It's my fault.
I saw him stealing.
Do you think he did this
to keep her quiet?
One of yours?
And you had your eye on these
as well, so I hear.
Where you were at four o'clock
this afternoon, Mr Pollock?
In the grounds.
Digging the compost heap.
Want to come and dust it for prints?
Was anyone with you?
No.
No alibi, a motive to silence the
victim,
rucksack packed and ready for a quick
departure.
Oh, and a criminal record.
I nearly forgot.
Who would do a thing like that?
We're pretty close to establishing
that, Mr Fletcher. Are you? Good.
I mean, it's unbelievable.
I understand that in the absence of
a will,
you would be named sole beneficiary
of your aunt's estate.
I don't think so.
My understanding is that she's left
everything to St Faith's Orphanage.
Alfred Pollock was one of your
charges at St Faith's, I believe.
Did he ever get in any trouble?
Oh, you know, the usual rough and
tumble. Hm...
It was a bit more than the usual
rough and tumble that landed him in
Barlinnie, though.
Resisting arrest. Theft.
He was a good lad when he left me,
but he fell in with a bad crowd.
Scottish.
But you stayed in touch with him?
Became friends, even?
And you say you saw him
this afternoon?
Yes, I often come for a stroll
around the Folly.
I saw him gardening from across the
field.
At what time?
Oh, erm...
About four o'clock, I should say.
I'd like to thank you all for your
co-operation.
We don't expect this will take
very long.
I would like you to remain in the
house until I return. Is that clear?
We have an officer stationed outside.
Do not attempt to leave without
permission.
Let's head back via Boreham Theatre,
make sure Mr Fletcher was on stage
when he says he was.
Stay put, Jenkins.
I'm rather envious of you,
old sport.
Envious of Archie? Why?
Well... because he has a mother who
would stand between him and any
danger.
Someone to smooth his way in life.
Didn't you have anything to smooth
your way in life?
My mother... died in childbirth.
I killed her.
I've had to live with that.
I'm so sorry.
But I'm sure she's proud of all
you've achieved.
One does hope so.
You told Mummy that an old lady took
you away this afternoon?
The police thought I meant the
ghost, but it wasn't him.
It was a live woman.
She was in the science place.
Oh, you found the lab?
Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.
What did she look like?
Well... Old.
Like me?
Yes, Miss.
But she was scary.
She kept on saying,
'Greenshaw won't get away with it
this time.'
Did you mention this to the Inspector
when he spoke to you?
And she kept calling me Edwin.
Everyone here's a bit weird,
aren't they?
Let's have some music.
This was my auntie's favourite song.
Really?
I thought she liked Schubert.
Oh... There are so many things
I don't know about her, Miss Marple.
Aunt Katherine and I were just
starting to get acquainted.
My mother, Nettie, married beneath
herself, you see,
and the Greenshaws, well,
they weren't too impressed.
They kicked her out.
I'm a bit like the black sheep
returning to the fold.
It's a very luxurious fold,
Mr Fletcher.
I daresay you won't go short of
straw.
To me, art is more important than
money.
I'm glad you stayed.
You must be the only one who is.
No. There's someone else.
Who?
Archie.
Is it him?
I don't know.
Stay here.
We shouldn't have let him go.
He's dangerous.
What the hell is he doing?
Get off me, you brute!
Jane!
It's all right, you can let her go.
She's a friend of mine.
- What was she doing in the lab?
- Cicely.
Come with me into the kitchen.
So what were you doing in
Greenshaw's laboratory?
Jane, the things I've been doing!
Living in the past!
I'm haunted by the thought... that
I killed him.
That I killed my own brother!
So you were both at St Faith's?
Yes.
And when they cam to take Edwin away,
there was nothing I could do
but stand and watch!
And then today, in the lab,
when I saw the little boy, Archie,
something in my mind seemed to say,
'Rescue him!'
I thought the Professor's experiments
were starting up again!
Cicely, listen to me.
You and Edwin were children.
You could not have stood up against
Decimus Greenshaw.
He was a monster.
Yes. He was.
This is his journal?
Yes.
I needed to see it.
Jane... Am I going mad?
No, of course not.
Is everything all right?
Yes, absolutely fine.
Thank you, Mrs Cresswell.
Good. Well, I said I'd make tea
for everybody.
What's that book? I was
just looking at it.
We were putting it back.
Jane?
Are you all right?
Just...
Dear God! Mr Bindler!
What's that he's holding in his
hand?
Oh, no!
It's only a power cut. Stay calm.
- I'll fetch some torches.
- Help!
Isn't there supposed to be
a policeman here?
Let's try the telephone.
There's no line!
Oh! We're trapped!
Philip! Don't hurt him!
Oh, Archie!
Let me out!
Let me out.
I've done nothing wrong! I just want
to see my son! Let me out!
He can't get out, can he?
No. He's going nowhere.
Archie? Don't be scared.
I promise you, as long as I'm around,
nobody is going to hurt you.
Nobody! All right?
A little early for that, I would
have thought, Father.
Early?
I've been up all night.
I'm sure Inspector Welch will return
soon, Father.
And once the facts are established,
we can all go home, can't we?
Where's Jenkins?
I left him on guard.
What's that in his hand?
A button?
It looks like it's off Pollock's
jacket,
the one we found in his rucksack.
Get it checked.
Careful now, Father.
We don't want you to end up like
Mr Cracken.
Walter Cracken didn't touch a drop
for ten years or more.
Not since his wife passed.
House fire.
Folks thought he caused it.
Because he was drunk.
It's amazing the things people tell
you when you're a priest.
Right.
I asked you all to stay put and keep
calm for a few hours,
and what do I find on my return?
A constable is missing,
the telephone line cut...
and a decomposing corpse
outside the kitchen.
Greenshaw's Folly. What a place.
Let me out of here! Let me out!
Let me out!
What's that?
That's the bloke I locked
in the cupboard. Archie's dad.
Hello?
Jenkins? You, over there.
Over here!
You seriously assaulted a police
officer,
fought with the gardener,
kidnapped your son whilst
brandishing a knife.
You'd do it to get your boy back.
Did you also remove the lady who
stood in the way of your plans?
What? Katherine Greenshaw,
the owner of this house.
Did you kill her?
No! Why do you say that?
We know you're a violent man,
Dr Oxley.
That's why they locked you up.
What about that thug who coshed me?
You should be handcuffing HIM!
Oh, aren't we lucky to have been
let out for a breath of air, Archie?
The police inspector thought my idea
was very sensible.
Yes, he did, didn't he?
How did you find out about this
place?
Miss Greenshaw showed me.
She showed me her plants.
Deadly nightshade.
Don't eat the berries!
Atropa belladonna.
It's for her eyes.
Oh! How could I have been
so absurdly slow?
Not a heap of haddock, Archie.
A pile of carp!
Oh...
So who would want to kill
Horace Lethbridge?
He told us his name was Bindler.
Probably not enough reason to push
him down a lift shaft, Mrs Cresswell,
but interesting nonetheless.
So why would anyone kill Horace
Bindler?
Well, I think I can tell you that.
I've put Archie to bed.
He's exhausted.
Thank you.
I'm afraid this will make painful
listening for Miss Beauclerk.
Well, Horace Lethbridge - Horace
Bindler -
was actually a reporter
working for the Clarion newspaper.
So he wasn't an expert on historic
buildings?
Certainly not.
Remarkable, aren't they?
Anyone with the slightest interest
in architecture
would have known that Greenshaw's
Folly doesn't have any crockets on
its East Tower.
Not one!
So, after he vanished,
I visited his room.
I discovered that he had been
working here undercover,
pursuing a scoop, which would expose
the late Professor Greenshaw
and his barbaric polio trials.
Trials which involved injecting
orphaned children
with the polio virus...
in order to develop a vaccine.
Many were left paralysed.
Even more left dead.
Now, this was sent to Miss Greenshaw
yesterday.
Anonymously.
'Remember the children.'
My brother. And some of our friends.
I wanted Miss Greenshaw to see it.
And did you cross out the faces
as well, Miss Beauclerk?
Those are some of the children who
disappeared here at Greenshaw's
Folly,
with no family to miss them.
This can prove it!
'Greenshaw won't get away with it
this time.'
Your words, I believe,
Miss Beauclerk?
Are they?
Well, I-I was very upset.
Upset enough to kill? No!
I wanted the killing to stop!
Inspector,
Cicely is over 70 years old.
I can't really see her pushing an
arrow through someone jugular vein.
Searching through the records
at St Faith's Orphanage,
I discovered that the period from
1900 to 1910,
as mentioned in Horace Bindler's
notebook, had disappeared,
no doubt destroyed.
On whose orders?
Professor Greenshaw, I expect.
So it's possible that someone might
have killed Horace Bindler
to keep the secret safe?
Yes, it is possible, Inspector.
Miss Greenshaw herself, perhaps?
I wouldn't think that at all.
Katherine was as troubled by her
father's past as anyone.
No, I suspect that Horace Bindler
may have stumbled upon something
quite unexpected,
something quite new.
A piece of information that someone
WOULD be prepared to kill for.
Sir? There's a Mr Fordyce here,
Miss Greenshaw's solicitor.
He's asking to speak to Mr Fletcher.
Did you give any further thought to
my request, Inspector,
regarding Mr Cracken's postmortem?
Look, I'm really quite busy
right now. Yes, I appreciate that,
but if you could indulge me
for a moment.
You see, Mr Cracken had not touched
alcohol for ten years.
Says who?
His priest, Father Brophy.
I know the butler's behaviour may
have seemed odd and irrational.
I'd agree with you there.
But I believe it was the behaviour of
a person under the influence of
a drug, not alcohol.
Go on.
Atropine.
It's a chemical derivative of deadly
nightshade.
It was grown by Miss Greenshaw in
order to produce her own eye drops.
But if ingested, it can promote the
symptoms of drunkenness -
dilated pupils, a flushed appearance.
And with two deaths since, I might
suggest a postmortem be conducted
on Miss Greenshaw too. Now,
wait just a minute, Miss Marple.
I'll admit that the information
you've just given me seems
plausible,
but the Medical Officer has
confirmed
that Miss Greenshaw's jugular vein
was severed by an arrow through her
neck.
Yes. But when?
This way out, Mr Fordyce.
Tell the Coroner's Office I'm
authorising a postmortem on Walter
Cracken.
Blimey, do you know what that
solicitor chap just said?
That this is all mine!
Do you think it's a joke?
I mean, whyever wouldn't Aunt
Katherine have left a will?
I don't understand.
Father?
She promised that the orphanage
would be taken care of.
She promised to remember...
Yes, well, it seems like she didn't.
Sorry, sir. There was another old
lady here. Not another one!
A Minnie Tulliver. Has information
from Somerset House.
Oh! Er, that will be for me,
Sergeant. Thank you.
Right...
The button found in Bindler's hand
matches those on Pollock's jacket.
What? The fingerprint tests have
come back too.
I didn't kill anyone!
Alfred Pollock, I am arresting you
for the -
He is not your murderer, Inspector.
Miss Marple, I am in the middle of -
Before you go any further, I must
tell you that I am in possession of
evidence
which will prove Alfred's innocence
and change the entire complexion of
this case.
Now, I promised that I had new
evidence for you, Inspector.
All right, let's hear it.
I will come to that later.
We need to begin at the beginning.
Both Walter Cracken and Katherine
Greenshaw were poisoned
before they were killed.
Just a minute. Poisoned?
My aunt was found with an arrow
through her neck!
Have none of you considered that
Katherine's murder somehow seems
a little too perfect?
We have a clear-cut suspect,
to my mind.
Yes, exactly. TOO clear-cut.
The only crime of which Alfred
Pollock is guilty is misplaced
loyalty.
Mrs Cresswell saw him stealing.
Did she?
You see, I believe it was Father
Brophy who stole the candlesticks.
Whilst Alfred in fact reclaimed
them,
eager to return them safely to the
Folly.
Unfortunately, he was seen doing so
and it was assumed
he was the thief.
I don't imagine Alfred was ever
a very successful thief.
Whereas you, Father...
I erm, I thought the silverware would
raise a good sum for the orphanage.
Or perhaps pay off your debts?
Can you explain why Miss Marple saw
you leaving the Folly
just half an hour after
Miss Greenshaw had been murdered?
Yes, yes, I'd come back to confess
to the theft.
I couldn't let Alfred take the blame
for me. He's a decent lad.
I'm afraid I rather lost my nerve.
But you said you saw Pollock at the
time of Miss Greenshaw's murder?
Yes. Yes, I did say that.
I wanted to repay Alfred, somehow.
Look, we have a motive,
a packed rucksack,
fingerprint evidence and no alibi.
Short of a signed confession, it
couldn't really be more conclusive!
Yes, so much so that it could almost
have been stage-managed.
A ghastly melodrama, played out for
Louisa and Mrs Cresswell
up in the dress circle.
Yes, but it isn't a play,
Miss Marple. Miss Greenshaw is dead.
And whoever killed her sedated her
first with atropine.
The same as poor Mr Cracken.
Atropine is a derivative of deadly
nightshade,
often found in eye drops.
Katherine was drugged using her own
medicine.
Miss Greenshaw called YOU
just after four o'clock?
Asking for pilocarpine -
not a pile of carp.
Pilocarpine,
the antidote to atropine poisoning.
She knew she'd been drugged.
But at four o'clock we saw her
weeding, just before...
the arrow...
Leucothoe?
Thimble campanula?
The real Miss Greenshaw would never
have mistaken those lovely plants
for weeds.
It was Archie's ghost which really
made me start to think.
Ghosts don't exist. People do.
Yes, I am aware of that fact,
thank you, Miss Marple.
And people's appearances are
surprisingly easy to alter.
In Mr Fletcher's business for
example,
costume and make-up can produce
astounding transformations.
Isn't that so, Mrs Cresswell?
In a certain outfit, for example,
a housekeeper might be mistaken for
a ghost.
Whilst a different hairpiece and
dress
could give her the look of, say,
an eccentric lady gardener.
This proves nothing.
Nothing at all.
Let me remind you that Mrs Oxley and
I were each locked in our bedrooms
at the time of the murder.
Apparently so.
Enter police constable, stage right.
Police constable?
Sergeant Cayley and I were the first
on the scene.
Having received Mrs Cresswell's call
at a quarter past four.
A whole quarter of an hour
after the murder. How interesting.
No, Inspector, this officer had
nothing to do with the Downshire
Constabulary.
Another actor?
In costume?
Borrowed from Boreham Theatre.
At four o'clock I was halfway
through a matinee. Yes, your play.
Such a pity you only appeared in the
first act.
Make your point, Miss Marple.
You leave the stage at 3:30,
quickly changing into a policeman's
uniform from the costume rail,
and speeding back here to play
the conscientious constable.
But you also stab the sedated
Miss Greenshaw
before locking your accomplice,
Mrs Cresswell, in her room,
as she had earlier locked up
both Archie and Louisa.
I'm sorry to disappoint you, but
I'd never miss a curtain call.
And you didn't. You speeded back
there to take your well-deserved bow.
It's only 15 minutes in a fast car.
Your theatre manager was happy to
confirm - 'Couldn't drag him off
stage, ' I think his words were.
This is insane!
Why would I be in cahoots with Mrs
Cresswell? We barely know each
other.
Not according to these records from
Somerset House.
Finally.
Miss Greenshaw's sister, Nettie,
married the Folly's stable man,
Harry Fletcher,
and they had a child together.
That much is true.
But because she'd married a servant,
her father Decimus cut them off
completely.
So the Greenshaws would never have
known that Nettie died in childbirth,
nor that the child also died
just a year later.
Neither would they have known that
Harry Fletcher married again -
a Miss Mary Cresswell.
And shortly afterwards
they too had a son -
Nathaniel Fletcher.
It's not true! I have a copy of
the birth certificate.
So, Fletcher isn't even a Greenshaw?
He's Mrs Cresswell's son.
And the love his mother has for him
knows no bounds.
Mr Cracken's discovery that you were
mother and son
obviously jeopardised the plan for
Nat to inherit the Greenshaw fortune.
You had no choice but to get rid of
him.
Come here, you little blighter!
And that left Horace Bindler, whose
prying unearthed an horrific fact -
that Katherine Greenshaw had
an illegitimate son,
a rightful heir, one who could
easily usurp Nat Fletcher's claim.
It was obvious in the way Katherine
looked at you
that she refused to lose faith, even
when she thought you'd stolen from
her.
Suspecting that someone had been
interfering with her property,
Katherine checked Alfred's precious
birth certificate
to find that it had indeed been
torn by someone.
She removed it from the laboratory,
hiding it instead in Shakespeare's
Sonnets,
bookmarking Sonnet number Three.
'Thou art thy mother's glass
and she in thee.
Calls back the lovely April
of her prime.'
You both searched high and low for
that birth certificate, didn't you?
After you'd dealt with Mr Bindler?
But it wasn't where he said it was,
was it?
And without destroying it, you could
never ensure that your son
would inherit the Greenshaw fortune.
I knew I couldn't trust him.
Ten thousand in cash, old fruit.
You can't be serious?
For the photograph
as well as the original?
A bargain, I'd say.
I can think of a cheaper
alternative.
A murder committed with brute
strength by the son...
and expertly managed by the mother.
The old witch hid it in a book.
That's ridiculous!
A ridiculous woman!
As for abandoning her own son...
You can only call that heartless.
On the contrary.
Katherine had always lived in fear
of her father and his hideous
experiments.
So when she had Alfred out of
wedlock,
her only thought was to hide him
away as quickly as possible.
So she entrusted her son to St
Faith's Orphanage,
where Katherine could keep
the closest eye on him.
No-one knew then that Decimus used
the children from St Faith's.
It was his favourite hunting ground.
Nat didn't kill Miss Greenshaw.
I did.
She would have died anyway,
the amount of atropine I gave her.
Please, Mother.
When I found Miss Greenshaw,
she was very much alive.
Pile-o-carp...
Hello? Hello?
So as long as Miss Greenshaw hadn't
made a will,
Fletcher could have masqueraded as
her blood nephew,
safe in the knowledge that he would
inherit everything. Yes.
They realised it could be a long time
before they saw any reward.
And seeing Katherine's own son hanged
for her murder
must have seemed like a very neat way
of killing two birds with one stone.
They framed him beautifully,
I admit,
even down to squeezing his button
into Mr Bindler's dead hand.
The perfect plan.
Almost, yes.
There! Another family!
What am I going to do with all this?
I've never had any money.
Father Brophy could use a helping
hand.
The orphanage roof for starters.
It's what your mother would have
wanted.
We'll be off first thing in the
morning.
You can't go.
This is your house,
there's no place for me here.
Stay. Please.
Why, Alfred?
Because...
I'll be needing my own secretary now
I've got this place to manage.
Won't I, Archie?
Mummy, can we stay?
St Mary Mead. Not far.
Aunt Jane will look after us.
Louisa! Oh!
You'll be safe here tonight.
Tomorrow we'll go somewhere
Philip can't find you.
Here we are. Katherine Greenshaw
needs a secretary.
You can hide away here.
Beware Decimus. He is prone to
toppling.
Miss Greenshaw's father.
And eminent scientist.
His laboratory still occupies the
east wing.
Strictly out of bounds now, mind.
Far too dangerous.
This is Mrs Creswell, the
housekeeper. Hello.
You must be Archie.
Archie, this is your mummy's room and
that one there is yours.
And I'm going to look after you both.
I do all the work round here.
Hello, Mrs Oxley. It's very decent
of you to help us out.
We're in a bit of a pickle.
Miss Greenshaw helps everyone out.
Isn't that right, Mr Cracken?
Aye, it's her nature.
Come to the window. You can see her
in person.
There.
She's weird.
Don't touch!
Oh, let him be. It's only a harp.
If you can play the National Anthem
on that, I'll give you a toffee.
Sit down.
Oh, why in heaven's name would he
want to sit down?
I wouldn't want to sit down
and listen to a couple of old
biddies dribbling on.
Just go and explore, boy. Go!
Be careful, darling.
Has he got spirit?
I like a lad with spirit.
He has, Miss Greenshaw.
But he's had rather a rum do of late.
We're extremely grateful to you for
taking us in.
Well, it's all Jane's doing, Mrs
Oxley.
Yes, Aunt Jane has been wonderful.
I didn't know she was your aunt.
Oh, she's not really.
We just call her that.
I'm compiling a codex of medicinal
plants.
It is my life's work,
but I can barely see the wretched
book any more.
Right, tell us your qualifications.
Can you read and write?
Yes. Yes.
Typing? Bearable.
Bad habits? Men.
Ooh... You'll do.
But I warn you, there's no mucking
about,
no running off into town to play
bingo.
We've got 7,000 species to get
through.
Stay as long as you like
and I'll pay you the same as the
girl at the solicitor's...
What's her name? Cynthia. Cynthia.
Is that all settled?
Thank you. Thank you both so much.
I think we'll get on very well,
Cynthia.
Er, I'm Louisa.
Well, who's Cynthia?
Cresswell? Where the devil's our
tea?
Are you boiling it leaf by leaf?
No, I'm not, I'm just waiting until
you asked for it.
That just means it's probably cold.
Have you brought my drops?
How are they, Katherine?
They're absolutely awful!
Oh, this is empty. I've got to brew
another batch.
Who are you?
Are you sure you don't mind looking
after Archie
while his mother's working?
I'd be delighted. Not far to come.
He's a good little chap.
Archie, what's the matter?
- There was a man.
- What kind of man?
He had blood on his hands.
Did he have... black hair and
dark eyes?
That's Alfred, our new gardener.
He is nothing to be afraid of.
But he was cross with me.
Gardeners usually are.
As a rule, they're rather
ill-mannered.
Have some cake.
Afternoon, folks.
Oh, Nat!
Have you met my nephew?
He's an actor.
My first dress rehearsal is tonight.
I'm taking every opportunity
to run through my lines.
The Tangled Web for one week only
at Boreham Theatre.
Lucky I found some good digs, eh?
Oh...
Toodle-oo.
You'll find all my reference books
in here.
Ah! Hard at work, Mr Bindler?
Oh, I fear my task is endless,
Miss Greenshaw.
You have a superfluity of treasures.
Horace Bindler. Architectural
historian. How do you do?
How do you do?
Mr Bindler's also staying here.
He is preparing a book on
19th-century country homes.
That is so. And this one is a prime
example of what one might call
the catastrophic style.
My grandfather designed it himself.
Entirely by himself.
He's visited the Gothic cathedrals
of France
and also it seems the minuets of
Istanbul at some point.
It's not called Greenshaw's Folly
for nothing.
Thank you for tea, Katherine.
I really must go. Oh. Do you have
a pressing appointment?
Just my knitting circle at the local
orphanage.
It's an engagement I never miss.
Well, then, please.
Allow me to convey you.
I have for some time been planning
to sample the fleshpots of Boreham
Lovell.
The life of Decimus Greenshaw is
unaccountably shrouded in mystery.
Do you know anything about him?
I believe he was a scientist.
He had a laboratory here,
but... they won't let me in it.
Could make a nice detail for my
book.
Do you happen to know where they
keep the key?
Why don't you ask Miss Greenshaw?
Decimus was her father after all.
Oh, I have, but she just pulls
a face.
Perhaps someone in the village will
know something. Perhaps they do.
If you spend enough money in the
fleshpots of Boreham Lovell,
I daresay they'll offer it up.
Oh...
Do you know what this is?
Deadly nightshade.
That's poisonous!
Quite right.
But plants are awfully like people.
Even the bad ones have a good side.
You see, I use these roots
to distil the chemical called
atropine.
It soothes sore eyes like mine.
Thank you, Cracken.
Cracken will look after you
for a little bit.
Very good, ma'am.
Afternoon, Cicely. Ladies.
Why didn't you invite your friend
in?
Well, hardly a friend, Grace.
I made his acquaintance an hour ago.
He just drove me back from
Greenshaw's Folly
where he's writing a book.
What were you doing up there?
I just went to visit Katherine
Greenshaw, Cicely.
I can't tell you how grateful
we at St Faith's are
for all your support, ladies.
Your scarves and matching mittens
always go down a storm at our
bazaars.
How many do you have in the orphanage
at present, Father Brophy?
32, Miss Beauclerk.
How we manage to feed them all...
I don't know.
Now, then, young man,
have you heard of the Greenshaw
ghost?
Just a little lad, he was,
not much older than you.
They say he met a terrible end
and this his ghost, his spirit,
still roams the Folly,
looking for folk to lure to their
doom.
I've only seen him the once,
just out there on the landing.
But he was as pale as that milk of
yours, Archie.
As pale as milk.
Archie Oxley, I'm sure Mr Cracken
has better things to do.
I'll be needing the long ladder.
Surely it can wait until tomorrow.
No, it can't wait. It's dark.
Someone will have an accident, and we
don't want that.
It went bloody well, actually.
The director says he's got me on
line for a lead.
What are you hoping for?
Hamlet, of course.
Come here, you little blighter.
Did Mr Cracken tell you the house was
haunted?
Well, I wonder who the ghostie is
coming for next?
Me, perhaps?
You? Boo!
So he was found at midnight?
Well, erm...
there was rather an almighty crash.
I almost jumped out of my skin.
I thought the old place was finally
falling down.
And did Mr Cracken have any health
issues that you were aware of?
We believed he'd conquered his
demons.
That was full yesterday afternoon!
I'd say his demons got the better of
our Walter Cracken.
Accidents will happen, one supposes.
Especially where single malt is
involved.
But for all these years he hasn't
touched a drop.
I just don't believe my butler was
a drunk!
Oh, Jane! Um, do you know
Miss Marple, Inspector Welch?
Miss Marple.
Yes, of course I know Miss Marple.
How do you do, Inspector?
Sergeant Cayley?
Yes, well, thank you, Miss Greenshaw.
You've been most helpful.
Come on, boys, keep up!
He's clammed up.
Doesn't trust anyone.
Are YOU happy to stay here, Louisa?
Given what's happened?
Surely Cracken's death was nothing
but a... dreadful accident.
We've nowhere else to go, Aunt Jane.
I have to be somewhere no-one would
think to look, especially Archie's
father.
And he has your address, you know.
Aunt Katherine asked if you could
come down for some dictation.
She needs to work,
take her mind off things.
Understandable. She's had a shock.
I'll look after Archie.
- When's your first night?
- Tonight.
Oh, well, break a leg,
isn't that what they say?
Poor old Cracken. Must've fallen
a fair distance.
I ought to go and offer my
condolences to Miss Greenshaw.
Coppers probably think I done it.
Must be your face.
It's rather a large house, isn't it?
Sometimes when I'm alone in my
house,
I get scared of all the creaks and
groans.
Really?
That's a secret. Don't tell anyone.
I don't want them to think
I'm completely bonkers. No, Miss.
Has anything funny ever happened to
you?
I promise to keep it a secret,
if it did.
I saw a ghost.
Did you?
Yes.
Where was that?
Here.
Here? On the landing.
Just like Mr Cracken said.
As pale as milk.
Mr Cracken was spinning a yarn,
Archie.
No, I did see the ghost!
When?
Last night. I was going to...
Ah! The intrepid explorers.
Where are you going?
Archie and I have been viewing
the splendours of the house.
We've just seen the crockets
on the East Tower.
Remarkable, aren't they?
Indeed they are.
I don't think I could be as brave as
you if I'd just seen a ghost.
In fact, I think you could do with
a reward for being so courageous.
How would you like to go and see
Mr Fletcher in his play tomorrow?
Oh!
Afternoon, Miss.
Archie, isn't it?
Ever held one of these?
Go on.
Here you go, get your hands on that.
Archie the archer, eh?
How did you get those bruises?
I got into trouble.
Right... Come here.
One finger above, two below,
all right?
Eye on the target, pull as hard as
you can.
That's the one! Good lad.
'Polio Trials.'
The sap of Betula lenta, more
commonly known as sweet birch,
is a source of methyl salicylate -
M-E-T-H-Y-L...
What is it, Louisa? Sorry, Miss
Greenshaw, it's getting late.
I really ought to fetch in my son.
Archie?
Aunt Jane?
Archie, it's getting dark!
Ill met by moonlight,
proud Titania!
Oh...
I know where they are.
Come with me.
What were you doing in the bushes?
Audition speech.
Shakespeare sounds better in situ.
- He's playing bows and arrows.
- Steady. Arms straight.
Eye on the target.
Are you out of your mind?
You don't give a weapon to a child.
It's just a game, Louisa.
He's perfectly safe.
Oh... Sorry.
Your hands are filthy.
We're going inside.
Nice when you make a good impression,
isn't it? Great!
A toast.
To a fine butler, a true gentleman
and...
Please.
Father Brophy,
I think that's quite enough.
Ah, Mr Bindler. Mulled wine?
Mulled wine BEFORE dinner!
How exquisitely rural! Yes, please.
Are your investigations bearing
fruit?
The Greenshaws are a fascinating
family.
The fruit hangs low on the bough.
All one has to do is pick it.
Thank you.
So, when is everyone coming to
Boreham Theatre?
Think what it will be like
when I'm famous,
to say you saw me in an early role.
Those film stars earn good money.
I'm a classical actor, sir.
I have no ambition to be
a film star.
Can one make a living on the stage,
Mr Fletcher?
Well, not in a Number Two Tour, no.
The rewards are so meagre that I've
often considered setting up
a charity,
like yours, Father,
just to make ends meet.
Oh, I say, steady on, there's no -
No, no, I didn't mean that.
Just that actors and orphans have
a lot in common, that's all.
Yes, but I rather think that orphans
are rather more deserving of our
generosity than actors.
Well, since I am both,
I stand to profit either way.
What is it?
The ghost! The ghost!
Where?
It's all right, darling.
I thought you could both do with
a nice cup of cocoa.
Oh, thank you,
Uh! That's Mr Bindler's bedtime
snack.
Ah. Not yet. It's too hot.
Oh, my God!
But where is Mr Bindler?
Good morning.
I wish it was, Miss Marple,
but Mr Bindler has vanished in the
night,
leaving me with a shocking awful
mess to clear up.
I saw the ghost again last night.
The same one? Pale and cloaked?
I do think you're brave, Archie.
So you really have no idea who
they're from?
Oh, what beautiful lilies!
Lilium rubellum, to be precise.
Louisa has a secret admirer.
It looks like there are presents
for everyone today. Archie.
From the nursery. Unopened.
An archery set.
Take it out and shoot something!
Thank you.
Stay near the house.
He can't do any harm.
The cup that cheers.
His fire hasn't been lit.
I tried to light it last night, but
Mr Bindler threw me out on my ear.
Said he was perfectly warm.
It was such a cold night.
Oughtn't you to answer that,
Mrs Cresswell?
Yes, well, that used to be
Mr Cracken's duty.
I suppose I ought to get used to
that now.
Just one more ruddy thing to think
about.
The production of this organic
compound is thought to be a natural
defence against...
That is odd.
Did you move the paperweight, Louisa?
I... No.
Excuse me, Miss Greenshaw.
Father Brophy is here to see you.
Huh...
She let you out, then? That's
unusual.
Mm...
Father Brophy.
Oh. Come to rattle his collecting
tin?
A rather large one, I'd say.
Rubbish!
It's regarding St Faith's.
Your remark to Mr Fletcher last
night
that an orphan's hand might be more
deserving than... Father...
Remember the children.
I will. Along with your gambling
debts and bar bills.
Every penny would go to those
that most need it.
You promised me that the last time.
St Faith's will be taken care of,
after I'm gone.
But if you could release some funds
now...
The answer is no, Father Brophy!
In you go.
Oh. Are you off, Father?
Just heading for the bus stop.
Hop in with us. Archie and I are
going to the theatre.
You? How did you find me?
Damn your eyes, Parsons.
You've double-crossed me!
I'll see you in hell for this!
You'll be waiting a long time,
Lambert!
Here's Mr Fletcher...
Hello?
Yes, I wonder, do you have
a reporter called Horace Bindler
working at the Clarion?
No, I've found his notebook,
I'm trying to return it to him.
You have a Horace Lethbridge?
Yes. Dapper, certainly.
Does he wear a bow-tie?
Well, could I speak to him, please?
You haven't seen him at all?
He was due to 'file copy' yesterday!
Yes, thank you so much.
We've been running a sweepstake,
Miss Marple.
The boys have been taking bets on
how long it would be before
you put in an appearance here.
Oh, that is a pity.
Why?
Book-making for cash is, as you know,
illegal,
and I'd hate to think of the trouble
your officers would be in
when the authorities find out.
Now hang on, just a...
I'd like you to do something for me.
And what would that be?
A postmortem.
But you're still alive, Miss Marple.
We generally reserve postmortems for
dead people. Very good.
But you can order a postmortem if
the death is held to be suspicious.
And whose death is held to be
suspicious?
Walter Cracken's.
A heavily drunk man falling from
a ladder
isn't what we regard as suspicious
circumstances.
But can we be sure he was drunk?
A postmortem would prove it.
A known alcoholic up a ladder at
midnight
with a decanter of whisky inside
him.
We'd be laughed out of the coroner's
office.
Well, I'm sure you know your
business.
Good day.
Sir. Something's come up.
We'll only here for a little while,
Archie.
And then we'll go to a new house and
start a new life.
Where?
I don't know.
Another country, maybe.
I don't want to go to another
country!
I want to stay here with Alfred!
What's the matter, Mummy?
Is it the ghost?
It can't be...
Mummy, I don't want to leave!
No, stop the car! Please stop the
car! No!
Are you all right, darling?
Don't worry, everything's going to
be all right. You hear me?
Everything is going to be
all right.
Are you all right?
Yes, yes.
Get out, come with me.
I'm as jumpy as Archie.
I was so sure I saw his face at the
window.
It seems so silly now.
I was very young when I met my
husband.
Philip was the debonair doctor.
But a sadist.
Each of these came with a promise
that he'd never hurt me again.
He's killed my belief that a person
can change.
You don't think a person can change?
No. I don't.
I should have left him a long time
ago, but...
but every time I tried, he'd
convince me that a child needs a
father.
A father who beat his own son?
That was the last straw.
I got out.
And now I'm terrified that it was
him who sent me those flowers...
just to let me know
he's coming for me.
I've met quite a few thugs like him.
Once the others tumbled 'em,
they... didn't stand a chance.
The others?
Inside. They'd get the bastards in an
empty cell and... teach 'em a lesson.
I moved around a lot when I was
a boy.
Just one... horrible situation to the
next.
Prison was just the next step.
Who's there?
It's Nat. Nat Fletcher.
Oh...
Er...
I was coming back from the theatre
and I noticed your car in the trees.
When I saw that it was empty,
the alarm bells sounded.
I thought you and I could form
a search party.
No need, it seems. You've been out
and searched already!
Yes. Hit a wet patch of leaves,
that's all.
Just a silly skid. Well, you can't
stay here in this dump.
Hot baths and your own beds
are what you need.
I'll take you back. Come on.
Come on, little chap. Wakey wakey!
Yes, thank you.
Archie?
Archie darling?
Good morning, Alfred. Lovely day.
Is it?
Father Brophy tells me you've become
quite the regular up at Greenshaw's
Folly.
Well, it is a fascinating place.
In fact, I've been wondering
if you might be able to shed
some light
on some of Mr Bindler's notes that
have come my way,
er, since you've lived in Boreham
your whole life.
Now, there's something about
St Faith's and Decimus Greenshaw...
The old professor?
Well, he was no philanthropist
as far as I'm aware, anyway.
What was his connection with the
orphanage?
What is 'The Great Race'?
I-I-I'm sorry.
I-I suddenly feel rather faint.
Cicely? I haven't been feeling myself
recently.
Sorry, I'll get you some water.
There you are.
Thank you.
Good morning.
Oh, you've er...
you've caught me before I'm properly
up and about, Miss Marple.
Your commitment puts me to shame.
Can I... Can I help with
preparations for the bazaar?
Oh, no. Thank you.
I'd like to see the orphanage records
if I may?
If you're up to showing me, that is.
Thank you.
That's odd. There's a gap.
The years between 1900 and 1910
are missing.
It's before my time, I'm afraid.
Alfred!
What the devil's going on?
Are you stealing from me?
I think we ought to have a talk.
You're right. People can't change.
Least I've still got a job.
Who's there?
Oh, Jane.
Have you heard about Mr Bindler?
The police have found his car in the
bottom of a lake.
Yes, I heard. And Bindler himself?
Any sign?
Strange business.
Mrs Cresswell asked me to give you
that. It was on the mat.
'Remember the children.
St Faith's Orphanage, 1899.'
Sent anonymously, I take it?
From someone with some connection
to my late father's work, I fear.
I had no idea the orphanage was
tangled up in it all.
Hm...
Want to tell me about it, Katherine?
What did he do?
What was 'The Great Race'?
Well, er...
They were trying to find a cure
for polio.
It was all very urgent.
I was too young to understand what
went on in his laboratory,
but there were rumours.
I recall hearing ambulances coming
and going,
raised voices in the night.
And these recent uncertainties have
brought back those memories -
thefts, accidents, objects
mysteriously moved.
And have these incidents continued
since Mr Bindler's disappearance?
Yes.
What is going on, Jane?
I ought to get around to making
my will, just in case I'm next!
Cicely!
The candlesticks were a gift from my
father when I graduated from Oxford.
I took a double first in chemistry,
you know.
But... it didn't teach me a lot about
people.
I was convinced that if I took that
young man under my wing,
that he would mend his ways.
You may still be right.
No.
When he came here, Alfred had just
served three months in Barlinnie
Prison for theft.
Old habits, it seems, die hard.
He's certainly proving a tonic
to Archie. And Louisa.
'Thou art thy mother's glass...
and she in thee.
Calls back the lovely April
of her prime.'
Shakespeare's sonnet, number...?
Three.
I say, Alfred. Auntie wants you
to turn over the compost heap.
Now, if you don't mind. Toodle-pip.
Yes, well, I should be getting back
to work too.
No rest for the wicked, eh?
What makes you think I'm wicked?
Everybody is.
Ah! Can I give you a ride into
Boreham, Miss Marple?
Oh, are you going that way?
Half-hour call's at 2:30.
In fact, you can hear my lines
on the way!
Oh!
I'll bring the motor round.
If you need anything else,
Mrs Oxley,
I'll be in my quarters
itemising the accounts.
Thank you, Mrs Cresswell. Another job
the butler's meant to do.
I'm still in here!
Help!
He shot me!
Miss Greenshaw!
Mrs Cresswell... Get help!
Help!
Help! Help!
You take the bus from Holborn Station
and it stops right outside
Somerset House.
Now, your instructions are in here.
Oh! A mission to London!
Cicely and Grace will be green with
envy.
Let's keep it to ourselves.
I suppose I should really take
a message for Father Brophy.
He's most likely visiting some needy
parishioner. Yes, most likely, dear.
St Faith's Orphanage. Can I help?
A what? Your... voice is very faint.
Yes, she's here.
Miss Greenshaw? Are you there?
Hello? Katherine?
Kath...
The line's gone dead.
She sounded most peculiar.
Sort of garbled. Drowsy.
What did she want?
Fish.
Fish?
Yes.
A mound of cod... or a pile of carp.
No, a heap of haddock.
I think that's what she said.
But surely it can wait?
No, I don't think so, Minnie.
I... I fear it can't.
Can your hear me? Miss Greenshaw!
I've called the police.
They're on their way.
Oh, come and let me out!
I can't. I'm locked in too!
Oh, God. Archie!
Help! Help!
Don't be afraid.
I won't let them hurt you again.
Greenshaw's not going to get away
with it this time, Edwin.
It's no good.
I can't climb down from here.
Do be careful, Mrs Oxley.
Oh! Oh, thank goodness!
Please! Please hurry! Miss
Greenshaw's been attacked!
She's in the house! Please hurry!
She's been badly hurt!
Oh, please, Edwin, do as I say.
It's for the best.
My name's Archie! Who are you?
Oh! Here's a stroke of luck.
Please, can you please help
dear Edwin?
The Greenshaws are trying to kill
him!
You'd better hop in, then, Archie.
No, Daddy!
Archie! Archie!
Archie! Archie! Come here!
Archie!
Constable! What's he doing down
there?
Archie!
Alfie!
Let's try the back.
Oh, thank heavens.
Please, Inspector!
Miss Greenshaw's been shot -
with an arrow!
She stumbled into the house!
And we're locked in!
I want the whole place searched.
Seal it off. Nobody leaves.
Archie? Where are you, darling?
I wouldn't go down there, Miss.
I have to find my son!
Oh, Aunt Jane! Archie's disappeared!
I think Philip may have found us!
Miss Marple, Mrs Oxley...
My son has been kidnapped!
I need you to stay calm.
You must find him!
Right now my prime concern is
the murder of Katherine Greenshaw.
Katherine? Murdered?
Mrs Oxley! That's is a murder scene.
do not disturb the evidence.
- Let's get everyone into the library.
- Please!
Inspector Welch will have my guts
for garters.
Could you please do as I ask?
Come and wait in the library.
I asked you to remain in the library,
Miss Marple. Hm?
Yes. Yes, it's just that I have some
information
I thought you might be interested
in.
At two minutes past four, I had a
very odd call from Miss Greenshaw,
asking for a 'heap of haddock'
or some such thing.
Miss Marple, at two minutes past
four, Miss Greenshaw had just been
shot in the neck.
You'd think she'd have mentioned that
before she asked you to go to the
fishmonger's.
All I'm interested in at the moment
is establishing who might have been
here at the time.
Now... go and wait in the library!
No-one comes in or out.
You see anyone coming in,
you come straight to me.
What the hell's going on?
Nathaniel Fletcher?
I'd be grateful if you'd go and wait
with the others, please.
Others? What others?
Follow me.
Round the back!
Come into the library, sir.
Mummy!
Oh, my darling! Thank God!
I've been so worried!
Where have you been?
With an old lady.
Then Daddy came and tried to take me
away.
But Alfred wouldn't let him.
He punched him on the nose!
Daddy was bleeding.
Where's Daddy now?
He gave us the slip, I'm afraid,
Mrs Oxley. We couldn't catch him.
So as an alternative you've arrested
the man who protected my son?
We haven't arrested him.
We've asked him in for questioning.
Pollock's, sir.
Found it in his cottage.
Seems he was all packed and ready
to scarper.
If you would care to have a seat,
Miss Marple.
Sir.
That MG we passed on the way up,
with the door open.
The lads on the gate say it's gone.
I think it was Philip Oxley's.
Have you told Control?
If you would care to have a seat,
Miss Marple.
Did you notice anyone hanging around
the vicinity
when you arrived in Mr Inch's taxi?
I did. Father Brophy.
He was hurrying towards
the bus stop. Brophy?
Bring him in.
But sir, he's a man of the cloth.
Bring him in!
And your mistress definitely shouted,
'HE shot me'?
Loud and clear, Inspector.
Mrs Oxley and I both heard her.
And then what happened?
Then she pointed across the lawn.
In which direction?
Towards the cottage where Alfred
Pollock lives.
And you say he always finishes
at four o'clock exactly?
It's my fault.
I saw him stealing.
Do you think he did this
to keep her quiet?
One of yours?
And you had your eye on these
as well, so I hear.
Where you were at four o'clock
this afternoon, Mr Pollock?
In the grounds.
Digging the compost heap.
Want to come and dust it for prints?
Was anyone with you?
No.
No alibi, a motive to silence the
victim,
rucksack packed and ready for a quick
departure.
Oh, and a criminal record.
I nearly forgot.
Who would do a thing like that?
We're pretty close to establishing
that, Mr Fletcher. Are you? Good.
I mean, it's unbelievable.
I understand that in the absence of
a will,
you would be named sole beneficiary
of your aunt's estate.
I don't think so.
My understanding is that she's left
everything to St Faith's Orphanage.
Alfred Pollock was one of your
charges at St Faith's, I believe.
Did he ever get in any trouble?
Oh, you know, the usual rough and
tumble. Hm...
It was a bit more than the usual
rough and tumble that landed him in
Barlinnie, though.
Resisting arrest. Theft.
He was a good lad when he left me,
but he fell in with a bad crowd.
Scottish.
But you stayed in touch with him?
Became friends, even?
And you say you saw him
this afternoon?
Yes, I often come for a stroll
around the Folly.
I saw him gardening from across the
field.
At what time?
Oh, erm...
About four o'clock, I should say.
I'd like to thank you all for your
co-operation.
We don't expect this will take
very long.
I would like you to remain in the
house until I return. Is that clear?
We have an officer stationed outside.
Do not attempt to leave without
permission.
Let's head back via Boreham Theatre,
make sure Mr Fletcher was on stage
when he says he was.
Stay put, Jenkins.
I'm rather envious of you,
old sport.
Envious of Archie? Why?
Well... because he has a mother who
would stand between him and any
danger.
Someone to smooth his way in life.
Didn't you have anything to smooth
your way in life?
My mother... died in childbirth.
I killed her.
I've had to live with that.
I'm so sorry.
But I'm sure she's proud of all
you've achieved.
One does hope so.
You told Mummy that an old lady took
you away this afternoon?
The police thought I meant the
ghost, but it wasn't him.
It was a live woman.
She was in the science place.
Oh, you found the lab?
Don't worry, I won't tell anyone.
What did she look like?
Well... Old.
Like me?
Yes, Miss.
But she was scary.
She kept on saying,
'Greenshaw won't get away with it
this time.'
Did you mention this to the Inspector
when he spoke to you?
And she kept calling me Edwin.
Everyone here's a bit weird,
aren't they?
Let's have some music.
This was my auntie's favourite song.
Really?
I thought she liked Schubert.
Oh... There are so many things
I don't know about her, Miss Marple.
Aunt Katherine and I were just
starting to get acquainted.
My mother, Nettie, married beneath
herself, you see,
and the Greenshaws, well,
they weren't too impressed.
They kicked her out.
I'm a bit like the black sheep
returning to the fold.
It's a very luxurious fold,
Mr Fletcher.
I daresay you won't go short of
straw.
To me, art is more important than
money.
I'm glad you stayed.
You must be the only one who is.
No. There's someone else.
Who?
Archie.
Is it him?
I don't know.
Stay here.
We shouldn't have let him go.
He's dangerous.
What the hell is he doing?
Get off me, you brute!
Jane!
It's all right, you can let her go.
She's a friend of mine.
- What was she doing in the lab?
- Cicely.
Come with me into the kitchen.
So what were you doing in
Greenshaw's laboratory?
Jane, the things I've been doing!
Living in the past!
I'm haunted by the thought... that
I killed him.
That I killed my own brother!
So you were both at St Faith's?
Yes.
And when they cam to take Edwin away,
there was nothing I could do
but stand and watch!
And then today, in the lab,
when I saw the little boy, Archie,
something in my mind seemed to say,
'Rescue him!'
I thought the Professor's experiments
were starting up again!
Cicely, listen to me.
You and Edwin were children.
You could not have stood up against
Decimus Greenshaw.
He was a monster.
Yes. He was.
This is his journal?
Yes.
I needed to see it.
Jane... Am I going mad?
No, of course not.
Is everything all right?
Yes, absolutely fine.
Thank you, Mrs Cresswell.
Good. Well, I said I'd make tea
for everybody.
What's that book? I was
just looking at it.
We were putting it back.
Jane?
Are you all right?
Just...
Dear God! Mr Bindler!
What's that he's holding in his
hand?
Oh, no!
It's only a power cut. Stay calm.
- I'll fetch some torches.
- Help!
Isn't there supposed to be
a policeman here?
Let's try the telephone.
There's no line!
Oh! We're trapped!
Philip! Don't hurt him!
Oh, Archie!
Let me out!
Let me out.
I've done nothing wrong! I just want
to see my son! Let me out!
He can't get out, can he?
No. He's going nowhere.
Archie? Don't be scared.
I promise you, as long as I'm around,
nobody is going to hurt you.
Nobody! All right?
A little early for that, I would
have thought, Father.
Early?
I've been up all night.
I'm sure Inspector Welch will return
soon, Father.
And once the facts are established,
we can all go home, can't we?
Where's Jenkins?
I left him on guard.
What's that in his hand?
A button?
It looks like it's off Pollock's
jacket,
the one we found in his rucksack.
Get it checked.
Careful now, Father.
We don't want you to end up like
Mr Cracken.
Walter Cracken didn't touch a drop
for ten years or more.
Not since his wife passed.
House fire.
Folks thought he caused it.
Because he was drunk.
It's amazing the things people tell
you when you're a priest.
Right.
I asked you all to stay put and keep
calm for a few hours,
and what do I find on my return?
A constable is missing,
the telephone line cut...
and a decomposing corpse
outside the kitchen.
Greenshaw's Folly. What a place.
Let me out of here! Let me out!
Let me out!
What's that?
That's the bloke I locked
in the cupboard. Archie's dad.
Hello?
Jenkins? You, over there.
Over here!
You seriously assaulted a police
officer,
fought with the gardener,
kidnapped your son whilst
brandishing a knife.
You'd do it to get your boy back.
Did you also remove the lady who
stood in the way of your plans?
What? Katherine Greenshaw,
the owner of this house.
Did you kill her?
No! Why do you say that?
We know you're a violent man,
Dr Oxley.
That's why they locked you up.
What about that thug who coshed me?
You should be handcuffing HIM!
Oh, aren't we lucky to have been
let out for a breath of air, Archie?
The police inspector thought my idea
was very sensible.
Yes, he did, didn't he?
How did you find out about this
place?
Miss Greenshaw showed me.
She showed me her plants.
Deadly nightshade.
Don't eat the berries!
Atropa belladonna.
It's for her eyes.
Oh! How could I have been
so absurdly slow?
Not a heap of haddock, Archie.
A pile of carp!
Oh...
So who would want to kill
Horace Lethbridge?
He told us his name was Bindler.
Probably not enough reason to push
him down a lift shaft, Mrs Cresswell,
but interesting nonetheless.
So why would anyone kill Horace
Bindler?
Well, I think I can tell you that.
I've put Archie to bed.
He's exhausted.
Thank you.
I'm afraid this will make painful
listening for Miss Beauclerk.
Well, Horace Lethbridge - Horace
Bindler -
was actually a reporter
working for the Clarion newspaper.
So he wasn't an expert on historic
buildings?
Certainly not.
Remarkable, aren't they?
Anyone with the slightest interest
in architecture
would have known that Greenshaw's
Folly doesn't have any crockets on
its East Tower.
Not one!
So, after he vanished,
I visited his room.
I discovered that he had been
working here undercover,
pursuing a scoop, which would expose
the late Professor Greenshaw
and his barbaric polio trials.
Trials which involved injecting
orphaned children
with the polio virus...
in order to develop a vaccine.
Many were left paralysed.
Even more left dead.
Now, this was sent to Miss Greenshaw
yesterday.
Anonymously.
'Remember the children.'
My brother. And some of our friends.
I wanted Miss Greenshaw to see it.
And did you cross out the faces
as well, Miss Beauclerk?
Those are some of the children who
disappeared here at Greenshaw's
Folly,
with no family to miss them.
This can prove it!
'Greenshaw won't get away with it
this time.'
Your words, I believe,
Miss Beauclerk?
Are they?
Well, I-I was very upset.
Upset enough to kill? No!
I wanted the killing to stop!
Inspector,
Cicely is over 70 years old.
I can't really see her pushing an
arrow through someone jugular vein.
Searching through the records
at St Faith's Orphanage,
I discovered that the period from
1900 to 1910,
as mentioned in Horace Bindler's
notebook, had disappeared,
no doubt destroyed.
On whose orders?
Professor Greenshaw, I expect.
So it's possible that someone might
have killed Horace Bindler
to keep the secret safe?
Yes, it is possible, Inspector.
Miss Greenshaw herself, perhaps?
I wouldn't think that at all.
Katherine was as troubled by her
father's past as anyone.
No, I suspect that Horace Bindler
may have stumbled upon something
quite unexpected,
something quite new.
A piece of information that someone
WOULD be prepared to kill for.
Sir? There's a Mr Fordyce here,
Miss Greenshaw's solicitor.
He's asking to speak to Mr Fletcher.
Did you give any further thought to
my request, Inspector,
regarding Mr Cracken's postmortem?
Look, I'm really quite busy
right now. Yes, I appreciate that,
but if you could indulge me
for a moment.
You see, Mr Cracken had not touched
alcohol for ten years.
Says who?
His priest, Father Brophy.
I know the butler's behaviour may
have seemed odd and irrational.
I'd agree with you there.
But I believe it was the behaviour of
a person under the influence of
a drug, not alcohol.
Go on.
Atropine.
It's a chemical derivative of deadly
nightshade.
It was grown by Miss Greenshaw in
order to produce her own eye drops.
But if ingested, it can promote the
symptoms of drunkenness -
dilated pupils, a flushed appearance.
And with two deaths since, I might
suggest a postmortem be conducted
on Miss Greenshaw too. Now,
wait just a minute, Miss Marple.
I'll admit that the information
you've just given me seems
plausible,
but the Medical Officer has
confirmed
that Miss Greenshaw's jugular vein
was severed by an arrow through her
neck.
Yes. But when?
This way out, Mr Fordyce.
Tell the Coroner's Office I'm
authorising a postmortem on Walter
Cracken.
Blimey, do you know what that
solicitor chap just said?
That this is all mine!
Do you think it's a joke?
I mean, whyever wouldn't Aunt
Katherine have left a will?
I don't understand.
Father?
She promised that the orphanage
would be taken care of.
She promised to remember...
Yes, well, it seems like she didn't.
Sorry, sir. There was another old
lady here. Not another one!
A Minnie Tulliver. Has information
from Somerset House.
Oh! Er, that will be for me,
Sergeant. Thank you.
Right...
The button found in Bindler's hand
matches those on Pollock's jacket.
What? The fingerprint tests have
come back too.
I didn't kill anyone!
Alfred Pollock, I am arresting you
for the -
He is not your murderer, Inspector.
Miss Marple, I am in the middle of -
Before you go any further, I must
tell you that I am in possession of
evidence
which will prove Alfred's innocence
and change the entire complexion of
this case.
Now, I promised that I had new
evidence for you, Inspector.
All right, let's hear it.
I will come to that later.
We need to begin at the beginning.
Both Walter Cracken and Katherine
Greenshaw were poisoned
before they were killed.
Just a minute. Poisoned?
My aunt was found with an arrow
through her neck!
Have none of you considered that
Katherine's murder somehow seems
a little too perfect?
We have a clear-cut suspect,
to my mind.
Yes, exactly. TOO clear-cut.
The only crime of which Alfred
Pollock is guilty is misplaced
loyalty.
Mrs Cresswell saw him stealing.
Did she?
You see, I believe it was Father
Brophy who stole the candlesticks.
Whilst Alfred in fact reclaimed
them,
eager to return them safely to the
Folly.
Unfortunately, he was seen doing so
and it was assumed
he was the thief.
I don't imagine Alfred was ever
a very successful thief.
Whereas you, Father...
I erm, I thought the silverware would
raise a good sum for the orphanage.
Or perhaps pay off your debts?
Can you explain why Miss Marple saw
you leaving the Folly
just half an hour after
Miss Greenshaw had been murdered?
Yes, yes, I'd come back to confess
to the theft.
I couldn't let Alfred take the blame
for me. He's a decent lad.
I'm afraid I rather lost my nerve.
But you said you saw Pollock at the
time of Miss Greenshaw's murder?
Yes. Yes, I did say that.
I wanted to repay Alfred, somehow.
Look, we have a motive,
a packed rucksack,
fingerprint evidence and no alibi.
Short of a signed confession, it
couldn't really be more conclusive!
Yes, so much so that it could almost
have been stage-managed.
A ghastly melodrama, played out for
Louisa and Mrs Cresswell
up in the dress circle.
Yes, but it isn't a play,
Miss Marple. Miss Greenshaw is dead.
And whoever killed her sedated her
first with atropine.
The same as poor Mr Cracken.
Atropine is a derivative of deadly
nightshade,
often found in eye drops.
Katherine was drugged using her own
medicine.
Miss Greenshaw called YOU
just after four o'clock?
Asking for pilocarpine -
not a pile of carp.
Pilocarpine,
the antidote to atropine poisoning.
She knew she'd been drugged.
But at four o'clock we saw her
weeding, just before...
the arrow...
Leucothoe?
Thimble campanula?
The real Miss Greenshaw would never
have mistaken those lovely plants
for weeds.
It was Archie's ghost which really
made me start to think.
Ghosts don't exist. People do.
Yes, I am aware of that fact,
thank you, Miss Marple.
And people's appearances are
surprisingly easy to alter.
In Mr Fletcher's business for
example,
costume and make-up can produce
astounding transformations.
Isn't that so, Mrs Cresswell?
In a certain outfit, for example,
a housekeeper might be mistaken for
a ghost.
Whilst a different hairpiece and
dress
could give her the look of, say,
an eccentric lady gardener.
This proves nothing.
Nothing at all.
Let me remind you that Mrs Oxley and
I were each locked in our bedrooms
at the time of the murder.
Apparently so.
Enter police constable, stage right.
Police constable?
Sergeant Cayley and I were the first
on the scene.
Having received Mrs Cresswell's call
at a quarter past four.
A whole quarter of an hour
after the murder. How interesting.
No, Inspector, this officer had
nothing to do with the Downshire
Constabulary.
Another actor?
In costume?
Borrowed from Boreham Theatre.
At four o'clock I was halfway
through a matinee. Yes, your play.
Such a pity you only appeared in the
first act.
Make your point, Miss Marple.
You leave the stage at 3:30,
quickly changing into a policeman's
uniform from the costume rail,
and speeding back here to play
the conscientious constable.
But you also stab the sedated
Miss Greenshaw
before locking your accomplice,
Mrs Cresswell, in her room,
as she had earlier locked up
both Archie and Louisa.
I'm sorry to disappoint you, but
I'd never miss a curtain call.
And you didn't. You speeded back
there to take your well-deserved bow.
It's only 15 minutes in a fast car.
Your theatre manager was happy to
confirm - 'Couldn't drag him off
stage, ' I think his words were.
This is insane!
Why would I be in cahoots with Mrs
Cresswell? We barely know each
other.
Not according to these records from
Somerset House.
Finally.
Miss Greenshaw's sister, Nettie,
married the Folly's stable man,
Harry Fletcher,
and they had a child together.
That much is true.
But because she'd married a servant,
her father Decimus cut them off
completely.
So the Greenshaws would never have
known that Nettie died in childbirth,
nor that the child also died
just a year later.
Neither would they have known that
Harry Fletcher married again -
a Miss Mary Cresswell.
And shortly afterwards
they too had a son -
Nathaniel Fletcher.
It's not true! I have a copy of
the birth certificate.
So, Fletcher isn't even a Greenshaw?
He's Mrs Cresswell's son.
And the love his mother has for him
knows no bounds.
Mr Cracken's discovery that you were
mother and son
obviously jeopardised the plan for
Nat to inherit the Greenshaw fortune.
You had no choice but to get rid of
him.
Come here, you little blighter!
And that left Horace Bindler, whose
prying unearthed an horrific fact -
that Katherine Greenshaw had
an illegitimate son,
a rightful heir, one who could
easily usurp Nat Fletcher's claim.
It was obvious in the way Katherine
looked at you
that she refused to lose faith, even
when she thought you'd stolen from
her.
Suspecting that someone had been
interfering with her property,
Katherine checked Alfred's precious
birth certificate
to find that it had indeed been
torn by someone.
She removed it from the laboratory,
hiding it instead in Shakespeare's
Sonnets,
bookmarking Sonnet number Three.
'Thou art thy mother's glass
and she in thee.
Calls back the lovely April
of her prime.'
You both searched high and low for
that birth certificate, didn't you?
After you'd dealt with Mr Bindler?
But it wasn't where he said it was,
was it?
And without destroying it, you could
never ensure that your son
would inherit the Greenshaw fortune.
I knew I couldn't trust him.
Ten thousand in cash, old fruit.
You can't be serious?
For the photograph
as well as the original?
A bargain, I'd say.
I can think of a cheaper
alternative.
A murder committed with brute
strength by the son...
and expertly managed by the mother.
The old witch hid it in a book.
That's ridiculous!
A ridiculous woman!
As for abandoning her own son...
You can only call that heartless.
On the contrary.
Katherine had always lived in fear
of her father and his hideous
experiments.
So when she had Alfred out of
wedlock,
her only thought was to hide him
away as quickly as possible.
So she entrusted her son to St
Faith's Orphanage,
where Katherine could keep
the closest eye on him.
No-one knew then that Decimus used
the children from St Faith's.
It was his favourite hunting ground.
Nat didn't kill Miss Greenshaw.
I did.
She would have died anyway,
the amount of atropine I gave her.
Please, Mother.
When I found Miss Greenshaw,
she was very much alive.
Pile-o-carp...
Hello? Hello?
So as long as Miss Greenshaw hadn't
made a will,
Fletcher could have masqueraded as
her blood nephew,
safe in the knowledge that he would
inherit everything. Yes.
They realised it could be a long time
before they saw any reward.
And seeing Katherine's own son hanged
for her murder
must have seemed like a very neat way
of killing two birds with one stone.
They framed him beautifully,
I admit,
even down to squeezing his button
into Mr Bindler's dead hand.
The perfect plan.
Almost, yes.
There! Another family!
What am I going to do with all this?
I've never had any money.
Father Brophy could use a helping
hand.
The orphanage roof for starters.
It's what your mother would have
wanted.
We'll be off first thing in the
morning.
You can't go.
This is your house,
there's no place for me here.
Stay. Please.
Why, Alfred?
Because...
I'll be needing my own secretary now
I've got this place to manage.
Won't I, Archie?
Mummy, can we stay?