All language subtitles for Urban.Myths.S02E06_English

(TYPEWRITER TAPPING)

(DOOR OPENING)
Agatha, darling.

So sorry to have kept you waiting
but I wanted to show you this.

Hello, Hercule! They can't enough of
him.

We're already on two reprints of
Roger Ackroyd.

That's marvellous. I'm delighted.
Except you don't seem it.

Has Gloria made you a cup of tea?
No tea, thank you, Billy.

What did you want to speak to me
-about?
-Well, to know your plans.

What next?

Oh, I have been working on
something. Early days.

Love early days. Carry on.

It's about a woman, a writer, who
thinks - well, knows - her husband is
having an affair

and that he wants to divorce her.

-Madness, I know.
-Scandalous. Love it.

Except she doesn't want a divorce
because she still loves him, you see?

-Always has.
-Well, all aboard the
heartache express.

-Ticket for Billy!
-So he has no other
choice but to kill her.

Maybe, in fact, she just kills
herself.

I just don't know yet.

And that's when Hercule Poirot steps
in, am I right?

Oh, no, it's not... It's not a
Poirot story.

Or is it?

Are you...? Are you telling me to put
-him in, Billy?
-Of course not.

You're the writer.

Only, Conan Doyle has bought half of
Sussex thanks to Sherlock Holmes.

You know I don't care about the
money.

Do you think, a hundred years from
now,

anyone is going to remember the name
Agatha Christie?

Give the people what they want -
the funny little Belgian with a
moustache.

-I'll think about it.
-Attagirl.

So....

what does old Hercule P uncover this
time?

Is it murder? Foul play?

(DOOR CLOSES)

(DOG BARKING)

Chief Inspector Danders?

Please stand back behind the rope,
ma'am. This is a crime scene.

Dorothy L Sayers, the brains behind
the master investigator Lord Wimsey.

-Lord who?
-Lord Peter Wimsey.

From such hit novels as Whose Body
and Clouds Of Witness?

Never heard of them. Now, if you'll
excuse me, Miss
Whatever-Your-Name-Was,

I'm afraid I really am very busy.

But who better to help you
investigate the disappearance of a
crime novelist

that someone who understands
crime writing most intimately?
Someone like me.

-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle!
-At your
service.

Sir, it is an honour, an honour
indeed.

We could do with Sherlock on this
case, that's for sure.

Dorothy L Sayers. Huge fan.

Might I ask to join you? Be a Watson
to your Holmes, perhaps?

(CHUCKLES)

-Oh!
-But, Miss Sayers, Watson was a
man.

Yes. I'm open to many new forms of
detection

and, yes, the idea of a lady
detective may seem like the stuff of
science fiction to you and I,

yet it could be invaluable to have
the mind of a lady to draw on.

It would be an honour. How can I
help?

Strong cup of tea and a biscuit, if
you would, Sayers.

Now lead me to the crime scene.
This way, Sir Arthur.

I'm not making tea.

Now, I have to tell you, Newlands
Corner is a notorious spot for
suicides.

Well, one thing is abundantly clear.

This car was driven by a woman.

Extraordinary. It's like having
Holmes himself walk amongst us.

Well, how can you be so sure?

Simple - the erratic parking style

and the fact that the driver's side
mirror is down

for the purposes of checking rouge
and maquilla.

It's also registered to Agatha
Christie

and was found with her driver's
licence inside, no?

You seem willing to seize the first
information that comes to hand.

Might I ask, was the car like this
when it was found?

Yes - passenger door open, fur coat
and glove on the back seat, just so.

A supposedly crashed car but no
out-of-control tyre tracks -

nothing to suggest it came off the
road by accident.

It almost looks staged.

I would like to bring in an expert
to look at this, if I may.

A man of science.

(SIGHS)

What exactly -?
Sh! You'll disturb his energy.

Oh, sorry, it's very difficult to
get a signal from the spirit world
out here.

You said he was a man of science.

I'll have you know
Horace Lambardi is one of the most
highly respected psychic scientists

in the country.

There is an energy coming through.
It's a woman.

Yeah, I can smell her perfume.

Did the lady in question wear
-perfume?
-I don't know.

It could be shampoo. Is it sham -?

It is. She's nodding. Does the lady
in question have hair?

-Yes!Yes!
-This is extraordinary.

It must be Agatha.

Oh! What is she saying, Horace?

There's a letter coming through.
Erm...

It might be an F.

I. J. K. L. H...

H, H, H...

-Husband!
-That's it! H, H, H.

H could mean anything. It could just
as easily mean house.

The husband lives in a house with
Agatha,

the same house she fled from.

You've cracked it, Horace!
Well, that's settled.

Tomorrow we shall head for the
Christie residence.

I'd lay odds of two-to-one that the
husband is behind this.

(LAUGHTER)

Colonel Christie, Sir Arthur Conan
Doyle

and Dorothy L, er, Sayers.

Conan Doyle. What an absolute treat.
Huge Sherlock fan.

Always telling Aggie,
"Come on, old girl.

Why can't you write something
like that?"Too kind.

Yes, I don't believe we've had
the pleasure.

Ah, this is Nancy, Nancy Neele,
and Nancy is my blacksmith.

-Your blacksmith?
-Yes.

This is the '20s, you know.

Ladies can pretty much do as they
please.

I'm delighted to meet you, Miss
-Neele.
-Yes. Likewise.

-I'm a friend of your wife.
-We're
assisting the police in their search
for Agatha.

Absolutely delighted to hear it. I've
been sick with worry.

Yes, well, I'm sorry to have to tell
you that, er...

your wife is dead.

-Dead?
-What?

Yes, shocking news, I grant you,

but as soon as we've located the
cadaver, then all will become clear.

-Of course.
-This is madness. It's all
nonsense.

Dorothy, can we just have a quiet
word?

We have no evidence to suggest
Agatha is dead, Sir Arthur.

Can't you see I was just doing it to
gauge the man's reaction?

Oh!

Oh, I see.

I say! That is rather clever.
Of course it is.

And look at him - the man's a wreck.

(DANCE-BAND MUSIC)

But surely -I think it best if you
just left the rest to me.

Fine. You keep them busy. I'm going
to take a look around.

Dorothy!

You told the press her husband
murdered her.

I know. Cunning, we thought, eh?

Sir Arthur thought that. I didn't
think it, not once.

Obviously, having you work with us
has been a huge honour, Sir Arthur,

but I think it might be better for
us to part ways.

I don't understand. Are you
-resigning?
-No.

No, I'm not resigning.

It's just all getting a bit out of
hand.

We've got sightings coming in from
Harrogate to Hebden Bridge.

-It's madness!
-And you have
investigated them?

Oh, honestly, Miss Sayers!

Most of them are in some hydro spa
place.

We can't very well go barging in
when people are trying to relax.

Oh, no, no. Absolutely. Indeed.

Look, I may not have been entirely
following police protocol

by allowing you in on the case.

And now we've brought shame on the
investigation and the police force.

By being too good, yes.

So you would like us to carry on
but...anonymously.

Absolutely not.

-Just me?
-Neither of us, Arthur.
We're off the case.

(KNOCKING)

Sorry to bother you, sir. The
Commissioner needs to speak to you.

If you'll excuse me.

(SIGHS)

Damn it! We were getting so close.

But I think the answer might be
right here, anyway.

Just look.

"And so she chose instead to head
for the very place she was meant to
be."

Just look at the map.

Well, the problem is that we have
been trying to solve this ourselves,

rather than being guided by the
spirits.

By choosing random letters, the
spirits will guide me to their
messages

and, by association, Agatha's
corpse.

One banana...

L.

Two bananas...

I.

-Three bananas.
-Oh, stop, please!

M. Four bananas.

A. L-I-M-A.

Lima! It's Peru!

She's not in Peru. She's in
Harrogate.

I should book us tickets on the next
boat.

We should be there within the year.

Well, at least you came to your
senses about that Horace Lambardi
charlatan.

Now, now. Horace is a man of great
talents.

Oh, please. Anyone could have got H,
H, H.

Harrogate Hydro Hotel.

By God, Lambardi! You're right
again.

Quick! To King's Cross. We must
catch the next train to Harrogate.

And to think that you wanted us to
go all the way to Peru.

(TRAIN CHUFFING)

(WHISTLE BLOWS)

I've invited all the suspects.
They're arriving on the next train.

The spirit world may have brought us
to this place

but it is my deductions that will
determine

which of them killed Agatha
Christie.

But what if she's not dead?

Yes. We require two rooms

and access to a drawing room that
has no secret passageways.

It's for an accusation and so we may
need staff on standby.

There's sure to be a lot of
fainting.

-Neele.
-I will make my way to the
drawing room

and prepare for the accusation.

I imagine you have things to attend
to first,

like waxing hats and that kind of
business.

I wonder, might it possible to talk
to Miss Neele in room 414?

Oh, the South African lady.
Certainly.

If you can catch her between songs.
Sorry?

Spent most of this week in the Palm
Room.

Singing.

(PIANO PLAYING)

♪ Baby face

♪ You've got
the cutest little baby face

♪ There's not another one
to take your place, baby face

♪ My h-heart is jumping
You sure have started something

♪ Baby face

♪ I'm up in heaven
when I'm in your fond embrace

♪ I didn't need a shove
Cos I just fell in love

♪ With your pretty baby face. ♪

You're probably wondering why I've
gathered you all here.

Dragging me halfway across the
country

after I expressly told you to stay
out, this had better be good, Conan
Doyle.

Oh, it's good, Danders.

You see, one of the people in this
very room is guilty

of the murder of Agatha Christie.

What? She's... She's dead?

♪ Yes, we have no bananas

♪ We have no bananas today. ♪

(CHUCKLES) Thank you.

Hello, Agatha.

The question is, who committed the
crime?

Was it her publisher?

With Agatha dead, her sales would
surely sky-rocket.

Or if she stayed alive

she could just carry on writing
lots more books for us,

so...

Mm.

But you're not the only one who
would benefit financially from
Agatha's death.

Is he, Colonel Christie?

You're a tricky woman to find.

Not as tricky as I'd hoped,
evidently.

Well, that's the thing with us
writers.

We can't help but leave little clues
in our writing.

Ingenious, really, that story in
here,

about the wife fearing murder by her
husband.

It placed everyone's suspicions on
Archie.

-More tea?
-Thank you. Although you've
got it quite the wrong way round.

My plan was never to draw attention
to Archie.

It was to draw his attention to me.

I wanted him to come and find me to
show that he loved me

and not her.
Nancy Neele.

It was checking in under her surname
that confirmed to me
that you were here.

Yes, a juvenile gesture when one is
pushed to the edge.

I'm Mrs Christie, not her.

You're not married, are you, Dorothy?

Well, in many ways, I consider
myself

married to my work
and Lord Peter...

-No, I'm not married.
-It was to save
our marriage.

Now look at this mess. A nationwide
manhunt.

Not to mention a huge waste of
police time.

Yes, thank you, Dorothy.

Are you wearing my fur?

For a decent Englishman to be
financially dependent upon his wife

would be beyond the pale.

I love Agatha.

NANCY: Really?!

OK. But I wouldn't kill her.

No, you wouldn't.

It became clear to me early on that
there was something different about
this disappearance.

The cunning little clues, the staged
nature of the details.

This, Danders, was the work of a
woman.

But no woman would have the strength
to murder someone

and then drag the body from a car.

No woman.

Except for a blacksmith.

You killed her!

Except, firstly, I'm not a
blacksmith.

And secondly, I have an alibi for the
night of her disappearance.

Well, I was with Archie.

In bed.
(GASPS)

God! The bare-faced impropriety of
it.

If there wasn't a lady present I
would light my pipe right now.

You can do what you like. Archie and
I are in the clear.

Well, I was rather counting on it
being one of you

but erm...

Well, OK, but just bear with me.

Erm... Yeah, I'll...

I'll get to the bottom of this.

Why don't you just grant him the
divorce?

Start over again - a new chapter.

Because life isn't a novel, Dorothy
dear,

and there are no happy endings for
any of us, just endings.

You can't look at it like that.
I know but it's the truth.

I love him.

I just...can't face starting all over
again. I just can't.

There's always that moment, isn't
there, when you start a new novel,

that mix of fear and excitement?

Yes.

That moment is now for you.
The page is blank.

You can write anything you like with
any of the characters you choose.

No, but the scandal is...

Not necessarily.

I think between us we can come up
with something that tidies this
whole mess under the carpet.

A little collaboration, you think?

Waitress, another pot, please.

But of course, you didn't have to be
there in person to murder Agatha.

You could pay somebody to commit
murder,

somebody strong enough
to shove a car off the road

or to haul a body away -

not a man but a... but, but, but...

But a great ape!

I think we might be better drawing
this to a close.

No! No, no, no, no.
Please hear me out.

I did it once in a Holmes story.
It's a stretch but -

-Sir Arthur?Oh, Dorothy.
-Might I...?

Wait. Wait a minute.

Driven by professional jealousy.

A more successful writer. Eaten up
by envy.

You killed Agatha.

No?

Thank you for keeping everyone busy,
as we agreed.

Did we? You're welcome.

Ladies and gentlemen,

Mrs Agatha Christie.

Aggie! You're alive.

What happened?

You'd better have a damn good
explanation, young lady.

Er... I do.

You see, I went for a drive
on the night of the disappearance.

I veered off the road, what with
having womanly concerns on my mind.

-Seems feasible so far.
-I'll say.

When I came to I had no idea where I
was

I'd entered a kind of...

fugue state.

-I wandered for miles.
-Poor lamb!

I must have wandered to King's Cross
and jumped on a train

and then I ended up

here.

Well, this clears everything up.
A fugue state!

Of course. No wonder. An automobile
crash.

Doubtless the strain of worrying
about the damage you'd caused your
husband's car

was enough to send your poor mind
over the edge.

A fugue state.

Congratulations, Sir Arthur.

You've done it again.
(CHUCKLES)

Oh, goodness.

MEN: Agatha! Agatha!
Colonel Christie!

-Colonel Christie!
-Agatha!

You played Watson to my Holmes well.
He's always two steps behind.

You thought she was dead.

Sir Arthur, you've wrapped up another
mystery.

Oh, please, please.

I may have tidied up this entire
mystery into a neat little package

but I...I didn't do it alone.

No, there was someone else here who
cracked open this entire mystery.

The spirit world.

Sir Arthur, what are your views on
the Cottingley fairies?

Well, I don't have one yet. It's an
area that requires investigation.

Dorothy, my bags. We haven't a
minute to lose.

I'm not helping you investigate
-fairies.
-Oh, come, come, my Watson.

The game's afoot.

(SIGHS)

For God's sake.

Fine. But I'm only coming with you
to get a lift to the station.

You know Cottingley is on our route
-back to London?
-No, it isn't.

I believe it could be.
That's the trouble with you, Arthur.

You could believe anything.

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