Miss Marple: A Murder Is Announced (1985): Season 1, Episode 2 - Part 2 - full transcript

You didn't tell me everything, did you, Myrna?
About Rudi Scherz?

Yeah, I told you everything.

I told you...
nearly everything.

- Tell me the rest.
- My mum said that I'd been an...

..an accessory before the fact.

- Do you know what that means?
- Sounds dope.

I'm sure your mother's wrong.

What happened?

Well...

..the night Rudi died,
we were supposed to be going to the pictures

and then he said he wouldn't be able to come.



And I got cross 'cause I'd just had me hair done.

I told him I didn't fancy
being stood up by a foreigner.

And he got mad at that and showed me
that advertisement in the paper.

The one that said ''A murder is announced''?

He said it was a silly English joke.

He was always going on about silly English jokes.

What exactly did he say he was going to do?

He told me he was gonna stage a sham hold-up,

pretend he was a gangster,
and scare all the people.

- Why was he doing this?
- Somebody was paying him.

He said he'd be well into pocket,
he was going to buy me...

..a watch.

Somebody paid him to put the advertisement
in the paper and do the hold-up?

Yeah.



- Who?
- He never said.

- You're sure?
- Sure. Honest.

I'd tell you if I knew, now that I know
it don't make me into an accessory.

Did you know he had a gun?

I wouldn't go out with a bloke
if I thought he had a gun.

Anyway, I don't believe he did.

He told me it was just a silly English joke

and that he'd enjoy laughing
at their silly English faces.

He wouldn't have done it
if he thought he was gonna get shot, would he?

''It'll be very funny,'' he said.

Some joke...

Inspector Craddock,
have you had any success with Myrna?

You're were quite right, Miss Marple.
She hadn't told me the full story.

No, I thought not.

As you suggested, somebody
paid Rudi Scherz to

place the advertisement
and stage the hold-up.

- And no indication as to who it was?
- None at all.

I shall be staying in Chipping Cleghorn
for the next few days.

I don't suppose there's anything I can do

but I shall, in fact, be at the vicarage
in case you should want me.

The vicarage?

Mrs Harmon, the vicar's wife, is a distant niece.

So I took the liberty of inviting myself.

So I may perhaps see you again
in Chipping Cleghorn.

I dare say.

Guess what?

Um...they want me
to be Archbishop of Canterbury.

- Close. Aunt Jane's coming to stay.
- Oh, even better.

I knew you'd be pleased.

Aunt Jane is coming to stay.

I seem to remember telling
you so a minute ago.

A man dies in highly suspicious circumstances
here in Chipping Cleghorn

and suddenly Aunt Jane is coming to stay.

Yes, I noticed that, too.

Hmm.

So, whoever paid Scherz
to play these silly games

is the person who tried
to shoot Miss Blacklock?

It's possible.

He or she could've crept up
behind Scherz in the dark,

fired and dropped the gun.

- He or she?
- We have to keep an open mind.

You mean that refugee woman who works
up at the house? She's a bit hysterical.

No, I don't mean the maid.
I mean we have to keep an open mind.

It seems obvious that Scherz
wasn't the murdering kind,

and there's no
evidence the gun was his.

It was a German automatic.

Since the war, the whole country's
awash with German guns.

Anybody who was in the services
might have kept it as a souvenir.

Laura, my dear.

I can't find my pistol.

- You don't need it today, do you?
- That isn't the point.

- You mean you really can't find it?
- I thought that's what I said.

Oh, my goodness.

It should be in here.

- When did you see it last?
- God knows. Months ago.

I remember clearly, I saw it on Saturday.

On Saturday? Are you sure?

Absolutely certain.
You were grumbling about your collars...

- Come, come, my dear, I never grumble.
- You were.

I looked in this drawer and the gun was there.

It was the day after that business
at Little Paddocks

and I remember thinking,
''At least it wasn't your gun he used.''

Unless he took it, did the job, replaced it.

And then stole it again?

Rather tricky,
as the young man was dead.

Well spotted. Still, we needn't bother the police
about it. It's just an old war souvenir.

No bullets. No licence, come to that.

Mum's the word.

You're my old war souvenir.

I've got a couple of letters I must write.

The story Rudi Scherz told you
when he visited the house was a lie.

He wasn't the son of the proprietor
of the Hôtel des Alpes.

Which is why I didn't recognise him. Who was he?

He'd had various jobs,

a hospital orderly in Bern,
a waiter, a shop assistant.

Wherever he went, things tended to disappear.

A picker-up of unconsidered trifles?

Exactly. The Swiss police became tired of him

so he armed himself with forged papers
and came to England.

Another displaced person with a good cover story.

- Yes, but why pick on me?
- Yes. Why should he want to murder Lettie?

- He didn't want to murder you.
- It looked as if he did.

- He burst in here with a gun and...
- He was paid to do that.

- Paid?
- Yes.

Somebody else wanted to have me murdered?

- Is that what you're suggesting?
- That is what the evidence suggests.

Nobody could want to murder Lettie.
It's ludicrous!

Please try to understand, inspector,
I have no hidden Rembrandts,

no enemies that I'm aware of
and no guilty secrets about myself.

Or anyone else, for that matter.

I'd like to speak to your maid.
Is she at home?

Hannah's in the kitchen.

Because she's a foreigner, she's
an automatic suspect? Is that it?

No, that's not it.

She works hard, and her papers
and permit are in perfect order.

The same applied to Rudi Scherz.

The late Rudi Scherz.

Oh! I'm beginning to lose patience
with Inspector Craddock.

He's only trying to protect you.

I'm perfectly capable of protecting myself.

- But don't you see?
- See what?

If somebody paid that young man to kill you
and it didn't work,

then whoever it is, well,
he's likely to try again.

I guess I'm sorry. I've been a
bit slow on the uptake, haven't I.

It's natural. You've had a difficult time.

Apart from that, I think you should
tell Mr Craddock everything.

What does it matter what I say?
I am just a refugee.

If I say the wrong thing, you can send me home.
Unless you send me to prison.

Besides, you shouldn't be talking to me.

You should be talking to
that nice English lady.

- Which nice English lady?
- Mrs Haymes.

Why should I be speaking to Mrs Haymes?

The young man, he comes to the house
and asks Miss Blacklock for money.

- You know about that?
- Miss Blacklock told me.

I watch him go.

He stops and talks to Mrs Haymes

in the summerhouse.

What might they have talked about?

I don't know. How to steal
Miss Blacklock's money, I expect.

Miss Blacklock isn't a rich woman.

She is richer than me.
She's richer, too, than Mrs Haymes.

Mrs Haymes is a fine lady who loses
her husband and no longer has any money.

She sends her son to school
and has to work as a gardener.

That is not a proper job
for a fine English lady.

Will you excuse me, please?
I need the kitchen to myself.

I have to make a very careful sauce.

Wrong door, Inspector.

That one doesn't open.
It's from when there were two rooms.

- We used to have a table against it.
- When was the table moved?

A couple of weeks ago.
Something to do with flowers.

Phillipa, Mrs Haymes,
did a big vase, all twigs and branches

and people getting their hair tangled up.

So we moved the table.

- Is it nailed up?
- No, just locked.

Do you have the key?

Yes. In here, I think.

Oh, yes, here.

There.

Careful. There might be something
resting against the inside.

This door's been opened quite recently,
Miss Bunner.

The hinges and the lock have been oiled.

Good gracious.

- Which means...
- You'd like to wash your hands?

Which means?

When Scherz came in this door
and did his party piece,

anybody could've slipped out the other door,
stood behind him

and fired the shots at you, Miss Blacklock.

Are you suggesting that one of my neighbours,
one of my nice, commonplace neighbours,

slipped through that door and tried to murder me?

Who's your main suspect, Inspector?
The vicar's wife?

We have to be very direct about this,
Miss Blacklock. If you die, who benefits?

Patrick and Julia. Oh, and Bunny here gets
a small legacy and all the furniture in the house.

I didn't know that!
Thank you, Lettie!

- It's hardly the sort of thing one talks about.
- But I still think you should tell the Inspector.

Yes, I know what you think
and I am going to tell him.

I think we should like a cup of tea,
if you'd be so kind.

I'm sorry. I'll see to it.

What is Miss Bunner anxious for you to tell me?

I'm not worth murdering now, Inspector.

But in a few weeks' time, I might be.

Why?

Because I shall be a very rich woman.
Please sit down.

Does the name Randall Goedler
mean anything to you?

Perhaps you're a little too young.

He was a financier. Died just before the war?

Yes, 1938.

Well, until his death, I was
his personal secretary.

Well, more a junior partner, really.

When he died, he left all his money
in trust for his wife Belle.

But if she dies before me, I inherit.

A great deal of money.

Randall Goedler was a millionaire
so, yes, a great deal of money.

You said you might very soon be a rich woman.
Is Mrs Goedler likely to die?

Yes. It may sound callous, Inspector,

but you asked the question
and that's a truthful answer.

Belle Goedler is a very sweet creature

and an invalid.

We exchange cards and letters at Christmas-time

and her nurse keeps me informed
of her medical condition.

I gather it may now be only a matter of weeks.

- Where does Mrs Goedler live?
- In Scotland.

- Perhaps you give me the address before I leave.
- Yes.

Going back three spaces, Patrick and Julia
are the beneficiaries in the event of your death?

- Yes.
- But what if you die before Mrs Goedler?

Belle and Randall had no children.

So, when he made his will
he nominated the offspring of his sister Sonia.

And who are they?

Please don't laugh, Inspector,
but I only know them as Pip and Emma.

- Pip and Emma?
- Yes,

- Who and where are they?
- Nobody knows,

Goedler's sister Sonia married a smooth-talking
Greek called Stamfordis. More or less a crook.

They lost contact with the Goedlers.

It's known that they had two children
born in the early 1920s.

- So they'd now be...
- 25, 26.

The same age as Patrick and Julia.

- Yes.
- Is that possible?

Miss Blacklock's never seen them,
Mrs Goedler's never seen them, so yes.

You have a lot of checking to do.

- Where are we going?
- Back to HQ.

No, we're not. I want to speak to Mrs Haymes,

see what she was doing in the summerhouse.

I'm happy to verify a statement
if it means I can stand up straight.

The dead man, Rudi Scherz,
you said he was a stranger to you.

Yes.

Did you at any time have a conversation with him
in the summerhouse at Little Paddocks?

In the summerhouse?

It's absurd. Who told you that?

The statement was made to me
that you were seen speaking to him.

I expect it was Hannah.

She tells lies.

I've never met Rudi Scherz in my life.
And I couldn't have seen him.

I'm here every day.

Thank you, Mrs Haymes.

- Good morning, Colonel.
-Good morning, Inspector.

You're up bright and early.

Habit of a lifetime, up with the lark.
Check the defensive perimeter.

I'm told you have a German pistol.

Yes. Unofficially, of course.

Souvenir of victory and all that.

May I see it, officially?

Well, fact of the matter is,
Inspector, damn thing's disappeared.

I see. When?

All I can tell you is
my wife saw it in my drawer last Saturday.

You mean it dissapeared after the killing?

Well, according to my good lady, yes.

I see.

Well, I'll leave you to check
your defensive perimeters.

You know, the English village
has changed since before the war,

That's really because
the whole world has changed,

A village like Chipping Cleghorn,

it may look the same,
simple and peaceful and eternal,

but it isn't,

You see, in the old days
everyone knew each other.

If someone new came to the village,
then they brought letters of introduction.

They'd either been
in the same regiment, ship or colony

as someone already living in the village.

- And that no longer applies?
- Oh, gone forever, I suspect.

The big houses are sold, the cottages converted,

and people simply come in from anywhere,

from India, Hong Kong, or Italy,

and made a little money and are able to retire.

No letters of introduction, no roots.

You had to believe their stories
and take them at their face value.

Plus their ration books and identity cards.

Oh, can you really believe
in a ration book and identity card?

Horrible things.
Inhuman.

- So, Pip and Emma could be Patrick and Julia?
- Oh, quite easily, I imagine.

But I think they sound rather fun
and not at all the homicidal type.

But I'll try and find out.

- You will be careful, won't you?
- Oh, of course.

A policeman asking questions
is open to suspicion.

But an old lady asking questions
is just an old lady asking questions.

- Who's the old biddy?
- Mrs Harmon's aunt.

I could go to my room and pretend to work.

Oh, Mrs Harmon's quite fun.

Pick of the village idiots, really.

Shall I be charming and terribly amusing?

No. Not a good idea.

It must have seemed dreadful to you.
Like Chicago come to Chipping Cleghorn.

I was scared stiff.

Well, it was rather an alarming experience.

It must have seemed quite providential
when the young man tripped up and shot himself.

Burglary is so violent nowadays.

There used to be a certain grace
and decorum about it.

- I blame the war. Don't you?
- And the Viennese waltz.

Absolutely.

- Was that the door that he came in at?
- Yes.

- I'm told there were bullet holes.
- Over here, Miss Marple.

I've never seen a bullet hole. May I?

Yes, of course. Please.

It's a miracle Lottie wasn't killed.

- Good gracious!
- But you were severely wounded, weren't you?

- Are you fully recovered?
- Yes, it was a scratch.

I only wear this plaster to get sympathy
from my nearest and dearest.

It doesn't work.

Unfortunately.

- So you were over here?
- I'd gone for the cigarette box.

Then the lights went out.

Oh, what a delightful lamp.

Dresden. It's one of a pair.

- The other's in the spare room.
- Really? I'd forgotten about that.

- I like nice things, don't you?
- Oh, yes, indeed. Yes, very much.

I'm afraid I can't work up
any enthusiasm for possessions.

Do you like nice things?

- I prefer naughty things.
- Julia!

I have very few possessions,

all of them precious
and each one a cherished memory.

As for photographs, people don't
seem to keep photographs nowadays, do they?

I do. I have hundreds, all my nieces and nephews

when they were babies and children
and grown-up and parents.

Got a horrible one of me
with a squint and a fox terrier.

And despite all your aunt says,

I'm sure she's got hundreds
of photographs of you all tucked away.

- We're only distant cousins.
- To tell you the truth, Miss Marple,

I didn't remember these two existed
until this year.

I had a letter from their mother
saying they were studying in this area.

- When did you last see my mother?
- Oh, about 30 years ago.

- I remember she was very pretty.
- Luckily we've both inherited her good looks.

Not only that. You're quite right, Miss Marple.
Aunt Lettie has a marvellous photograph album.

- We looked through it the other day.
- But I'm not obsessive about the past.

Well, I have more past than future.

Oh, don't be silly, Aunt Jane.

My dear, you've married a vicar. You must know.

We're allocated three-score years and ten.

And I shall soon be overdrawn.

You did it on purpose, didn't you?

- What, my dear?
- Talked about photographs.

I now know that Miss Blacklock
had never seen Patrick and Julia in the flesh

till they turned up on her doorstep.

- And rang the bell.
- Exactly.

Tomorrow, I shall explore your village.

It's quite small. Won't take long.

There are more things in Chipping Cleghorn,
Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy.

I dare say.

Horatio? I thought he had a bridge.

- Morning, Phillipa.
- Hello.

- What are you doing?
- Can't you see?

Well, I'm no gardener.

I mean, you seem to be
poking around aimlessly in the soil.

- I'm pricking out winter lettuce.
- And, um, exquisitely, too.

Please go away, Edmund.
You've no business to be here.

I have business.
Mrs Lucas rang my mama this morning,

very anxious to trade one of her surplus
vegetable marrows for, um, a pot of honey.

Yes, we're swamped with vegetable marrows.

So I have my alibi,
using the word loosely and incorrectly.

- There's no question of dalliance.
- Good.

''Faultily faultless, icily
regular, splendidly null.''

- I beg your pardon?
- It's Tennyson writing about Maud.

But it's really about you, Phillipa.
Splendidly null.

- It isn't much of a compliment.
- It isn't meant to be.

It's meant to stir you into speaking.

- What are you like? What do you feel?
- That's my business.

It's mine, too. Oh, can't you see I'm smitten?

I didn't want to fall in love with you.

I just wanted to worry about the working classes
and write my book about the world's misery.

Then you came along.
And you won't even talk to me.

- I'm talking to you now.
- Not really talking.

Tell me about anything.
Tell me about your husband, if you like.

We met. We got married.

Harry was born.

Ronald was killed in Italy.

Harry's a nice kid. I like him.

I think he likes me, too.

Oh, let's get married, Phillipa.

You can go on gardening and I can go on writing
my tripey book, and we can sponge off Mother.

My eyesight is defective, but I'm very sincere.

No. I don't think so.

Well, very well.

In that case, you'd better lead me
to that vegetable marrow.

Sergeant Fletcher. Are you keeping an eye on us?

- Inspector Craddock's orders.
- We're going to the village.

It's Hannah's day out, so there's nobody in.

- So if you could...
- Watch the house.

- The sergeant could make a cup of tea.
- Yes, please do.

The door's open. We never lock doors.
Come along, Bunny, we'll be late.

Oh! Oh, you startled me, Sergeant.

- I thought you were another burglar.
- No, Mrs Swettenham, it's only me.

- You came through the back door.
- Yes. It's always open.

I just brought up some of my quinces. Perhaps
you'd tell Miss Blacklock when she comes back.

I'll leave them here.

It seems anybody can walk
in here just as they like.

Of course. How else could we leave quinces
on the kitchen table?

Murgatroyd?

Yes, Hinch?

- I've been doing a bit of thinking.
- What about?

Well, that pantomime the other night.

It's all too fishy.

Now, take this revolver.

- Well, that's a trowel.
- I know it's a trowel.

- We don't stock revolvers.
- I suppose not.

And this torch.

Go outside, come back in, wave the torch round
and the revolver, like he did,

and say, ''Stick 'em up.''

Why?

Because what happened was fishy

and I want to find out what made it fishy.

I'll try.

Stick 'em up!

The door won't stay open.

Exactly. That's the fishy bit!
The door at Little Paddocks is just the same.

Lettie Blacklock bought that huge glass doorstop
from Elliot's.

Perhaps the burglar used that to keep it open.

That's a non-starter, Murgatroyd!

You fling the door open,
you shout, ''Reach for the sky!''

And then you say, ''Excuse me
while I adjust the doorstop.''

It's all so awkward.

Give me that revolver.

You'd have shot yourself by now.

He did shoot himself, didn't he?

Somebody must have held the door open for him.

I'm not at all sure he did shoot himself.

You mean,

somebody else shot him?

That's the only alternative to shooting oneself,
in my experience.

- You've had experience?
- Of crimes of violence? Lots.

Pa-choo! Pa-choo!

Two-gun Hinchcliffe,

the terror of Kidderminster.

I don't believe you.

Neither do I.
But if it wasn't one of us who killed that boy,

it was somebody very like us.

- Miss Marple.
- Oh!

- Do sit here.
- Oh, how kind. Thank you so much.

- I'm on my own.
- Oh, dear. Oh, such a sharp wind.

- My rheumatics, you know.
- I had sciatica last year. Agony.

Oh, dear, yes. Now, then, coffee and cakes?

- Yes, please.
- For two. Thank you.

The cakes here don't look so delicious
as the ones in your house.

Hannah made those. Our cook. She's very good.

Some sort of a foreigner. Swiss, I think.
Pity she screams so much.

Oh, well, it's a sign of life.

And the other person I didn't see?
The young lady who lives with you?

Phillipa? We call her our lodger.
I suppose she is, in a way.

Whom?
Phillippa?

- Haymes.
- Haymes? Oh, yes. Really.

Yes. I knew a Colonel Haymes
in the Indian cavalry.

- Her father, perhaps?
- She's Mrs Haymes, a widow.

Husband was killed in Sicily. Or Italy.

Oh, how sad.

Oh, here we are.

Now, then, would you like me to pour out?

- Yes, please.
- Now, coffee.

They're terribly pink, aren't they?

Probably an artificial substitute for flavour.

Thank you.

And has she many admirers?

That waitress? I doubt it. Much too surly!

Oh, yes. No, Mrs Haymes.

Oh. Well...

..young Edmund Swettenham
moons around her a bit.

He's a very odd young man.
Writes books, and I...

I have heard that he's a communist.

Oh, really? Well, he must be rather lonely
in Chipping Cleghorn.

I'm told they can grow out of it.
Do you believe that?

- Yes, I think that's quite likely.
- Good.

And have you known Miss Blacklock long?

Oh, we were at school together.
Then we lost touch for years.

She was secretary to this
millionaire Goedler and...

Tell me...
I didn't do wrong, Miss Marple?

I'm afraid I don't know
what you're talking about.

I was living on my own,
just with my pension, in a bedsitter.

I saw Lettie's name in the local newspaper.

She was at a charity luncheon
in aid of the Milchester Hospital.

And I wrote to her.

Not a begging letter.
It wasn't that.

Oh, no, no, of course not.

No. You wrote a friendly letter
to an old school chum and you met.

She was lonely and you were lonely and
she asked you to move in with her. That's all.

You do understand.

I understand everything about lonely old ladies.

I can tell. You're very comfortable
to talk to, Miss Marple.

You see, I get so angry when I see
people taking advantage of Lettie

and I do hope that I'm not like that.

She's left me all the household goods
and an annuity!

But that's her decision.

I haven't taken advantage of her, truly.

Oh, no, no. I'm quite sure you haven't.

No.

And do other people take advantage?

Young...

..Patrick.

He's had money from her twice
at least, to my certain knowledge.

All Lettie will say is, ''The boy's young.
Youth must have its fling.''

That's true, you know.

And, of course, he is handsome and a trifle
insolent, I agree. But on the other hand...

I saw him with an oil can in the garden.

Really?

And the other door
to the drawing room has been oiled.

And I heard him having an argument
with Julia the other day.

But that's human nature, isn't it?

Arguments between brothers and sisters.

Shepherds and shepherdesses.

I beg your pardon?

The lamp.
On the table.

I noticed that it was the shepherdess,

and not the shepherd.

Coffee and gossip, Bunny?
Good morning, Miss Marple.

Good morning. Won't you join us?

Thank you, but we are rather late.
Have you done your shopping, Bunny?

I must call at the chemist.
I need some aspirin and... and corn plasters.

Please, can I pay?

Oh, no. I wouldn't dream of it.

Come along, Bunny.
That's it. Goodbye, Miss Marple.

- Excuse me.
- Goodbye, Miss Bunner.

She's terribly sweet, Miss Marple.
Such a good listener.

I don't suppose you gave her
much choice, Bunny dear.

- No, not that one.
- No?

No, I tried one of those. They taste of salmon.

Oh. I think I'll just have the coffee.

Very wise.

- So, what were you talking about?
- Family loyalty.

I hope it wasn't as tedious as it sounds.

No, on the contrary. Very revealing.

Nearly everyone assumes
that people murder out of hatred.

But it may be out of loyalty or even love.

Love?

Tell me again who was in the room that night.

Miss Blacklock, Rudi Scherz...

And devoted Dora and handsome Patrick...

Mrs Swettenham of the honey-pot
and her serious son Edmund. Yes?

The pukka sahib Colonel Easterbrook
and the fluffy Mrs Easterbrook.

Not forgetting
the cool and distant Phillipa Haymes.

- And?
- Am I forgetting somebody?

- Yes.
- Julia!

- That's right. Julia, yes.
- Julia. Pretty Julia is peculiar.

Three and six. And I'm not a peculiar.
I've always been a good C of E.

Oh, I'm so sorry. I was just quoting an old song.
I didn't know your name was Julia.

- No offence, I'm sure.
- There. Thank you very much.

Thank you very much, Mrs Marple.

Well, yes. Now, do we believe in Pip and Emma?

Miss Blacklock says they exist, so we have to.

Even though she's never seen them?

But they are the only people to benefit
from Miss Blacklock's death.

Not necessarily.
Either of them might have married.

Their mother and father might be alive.
You see, they'd all be interested parties.

So the police should be looking
for a murderer who...

Who is either male or female,
in the middle twenties,

or someone nearly as old as I am.

You also said somebody
who would murder out of love.

Yes, but a very special kind of love.

A deep and abiding passion
for large sums of money.

- Except...
- What?

That waitress thought you were talking about her.

Oh, it's just a simple mistake.

Yes.

Mrs Goedler's looking forward
to your visit, Inspector,

Is she really? That makes a change.

She has very few visitors, for obvious reasons.

There's one question I have to ask.

I can guess what it is.

- Well?
- She's a dying woman.

She's surviving on drugs and on her willpower

but it can't last for more than a few weeks.

And our dear Miss Blacklock
was not hurt by the attempt on her life?

A grazed ear.

Oh, poor Blackie.

You know about her family background?

No.

Is it important to your investigation?

- I have no idea.
- Well, let me ramble on

and stop me if it becomes boring. Agreed?

Agreed.

Two sisters. The father,
an old country doctor and a tyrant.

Lettie rebelled, ran away to London,

made herself into a chartered accountant.

The other sister, Charlotte, was an invalid.

Now, when the old man died, Blackie left the firm
to go and look after her sister.

Randall was furious with her, shouted at her,
but she was determined.

She took her sister to Switzerland.

- Tell me about your husband's sister.
- Sonia?

She was wild. I was fond of her.

But we've lost touch.

She married this chap Stamfordis,

a genuine crook, have no doubt.

You'd have enjoyed locking him up.

Randall disapproved of the marriage,
but Sonia took no notice.

We got a letter about 18 months after the wedding

to say she'd had twins, just after midday.

so she intended to call them Pip and Emma.

We forgot about them.
A terrible thing to say about one's relatives.

But Mr Goedler left his estate to the children
in the event of Miss Blacklock predeceasing you.

The lawyers pestered him.

He told them that Blackie was strong as a horse
and I was delicate,

but they insisted. Lawyers do.

They're so serious about life and death,
things like that.

But you have no idea where they may be,

your sister-in-law, her husband,
or their children?

They may be dead. They may be anywhere.

They may be...

..in Chipping Cleghorn.

Indeed they may.

Don't let them hurt Blackie.

She's too good to lose.

Sardine sandwiches, and tomato

and some of those little scones you do so nicely.

And I want you to make your special cake.

My cake? Is it a party, you want such things?

It's Miss Bunner's birthday,
people are coming to tea.

Birthdays! Parties!
At her age, it's better to forget.

She doesn't want to forget.
She wants a cake. I want her to have a cake.

I have nothing to make such a cake.

I need butter, sugar, chocolate, raisins.

Butter.

Sugar.

Chocolate.

Raisins.

- Where do you get such things?
- None of your business, Hannah.

Very well, I shall make such a cake! With icing.

And on the top, I will write,

- ''Good wishes.''
- Thank you, Hannah.

I will show your English friends
what such a cake should taste like.

English cakes taste like sand.

My cake will taste like heaven.

I'm sure it will.

- You must tell Mr Patrick not to call it names.
- I'm sure he wouldn't dream of it.

My last cake, he calls it ''Delicious death''.

Oh, but that's a compliment!

Death is a compliment?

# Happy birthday to you

# Happy birthday to you

# Happy birthday, dear Bunny

# Happy birthday to you #

Delicious death!

Hannah doesn't like you talking like that.

- She disapproves of everything I do.
- Well, it looks a lovely cake.

Foreigners. They make damn good cakes.

Mind you, it's plain boiled
pudding that stumps them.

Got a new gardener?
Saw a chap snooping round the hen-house.

- No, that's our own special detective.
- Detective? Why?

- To protect Lettie.
- Isn't that all over?

- They adjourned the inquest.
- Police not satisfied.

- They never are.
- As I see it, we're all under suspicion.

- Suspicion of what?
- Here and now, I'd say loitering with intent.

That sounds amusing. What sort of intent?

Intent to commit murder
upon the first opportunity.

Please don't, Mr Swettenham. It's so awful.

- Oh Bunny.
- I should nobody want unwell

- Don't distress yourself.
- Come on, Bunny.

It's usually me
who spoils the party with a bad joke.

Mrs Easterbrook. Colonel.

Afternoon.

Sergeant.
We thought you might like a piece of cake.

Oh, thank you. That's very kind.

All the suspects have gone home now.
Are you under orders to stay?

Another ten minutes, then I
hand over to the local Bobby.

We do sleep sounder for the police presence.

Good.

- Did you enjoy your party?
- I did. But I've got a dreadful headache.

Too much excitement.

Too much cake.

Those lovely chocolates. Where did you find them?

It's easy, if you don't mind breaking the law.

Oh, I...I think I'll take a couple of aspirin

and lie down for a while.

Shall I shut up the ducks, Aunt Lettie?

Well, if you can do it properly.

There's no guarantee,
but I promise to try my hardest.

Just make sure that the latch is down firmly.

- I knew there was a secret.
- Don't worry, Aunt Lettie.

I'll make sure it's all right.

I seem to have mislaid the aspirin
I bought in the village.

This house is chock-full of aspirin.
They fall out of every cupboard.

- There's a bottle on my dressing table.
- Take mine. They're by my bed.

Thank you, Lettie.

Ducks.

All you have to do...
is see that the latch is down firmly.

- Patrick.
- Julia.

Imagine you were Pip and Emma.
What would you do?

- I come to England penniless.
- Yes?

Then, assuming I'm of criminal mentality,
I seek out any rich relations I might have.

I know my uncle, Goedler, left a vast fortune,

so I inquire about his widow,
discover she's still alive

and that the only obstacle between me and the
money is Letitia Blacklock of Chipping Cleghorn.

- Therefore...
- Murder Miss Blacklock.

Have we checked about Patrick and Julia?

Yes. They are precisely what they claim to be.

Patrick has rather a good war record.

Fletcher's been busy, too.

So I see.

- Wee dram?
-Oh, please.

I waited hopefully for somebody to offer,
but Scotland appears to be totally dry.

Helps the concentration.

Bunny.

Philippa.

Yes... yes I see.

Thank you.
Has been an hour.

Dora Bunner?

But that's most unfair.

The vilage policeman was on duty.
He's called the doctor..

There's to be an autopsy, but it
looks like narcotic poisoning.

But she's a complete innocent.

Is it the fate of the innocent to suffer?

It very offten it is, yes.

In spite of her innocence?

Or because of her innocence?