All language subtitles for magpie-murders-s01e06-webrip-x265-rarbg-subrip-fixes

- Mummy! Mummy!
- Up here.

Mummy!

We can't find Bella!

- Oh, where have you looked?
- We've been everywhere.

We've been in the
gardens and behind the hall.

- We've been to the lake.
- Have you asked Mr. Brent?

- He won't help us.
- He doesn't like Bella.

Why don't you try Dingle Dell?
She often goes there.

Yes!

Bella!

- Bella!
- Bella!

- Bella!
- Bella!

Bella!

Bella!

Here, girl!

Bella! Here, girl!

There she is.

Oh, no.

How did you find me, Mr. Pund?

Oh, it was the reverend
Osborne in Saxby-on-Avon.

- He gave me your address.
- Oh.

You're investigating
Mary's death?

No, Mr. Blakiston.

I am investigating the murder
of her employer, sir Magnus Pye.

Well, you're wasting
your time. I can't help you.

I'm not even sure
that I'd want to.

You are no friend of sir Magnus?

He took everything I ever loved.

When he offered
Mary the job at Pye Hall,

he sucked her into his orbit.

She worshipped him.

He was an aristocrat, local squire.

She trusted him with everything.

And suddenly there
was no more room for me.

- When did you last see her?
- Ten years ago.

Oh, but still, you
went to her funeral.

Of course I did. I loved her.

Before the accident,
before Sam died,

we'd been happy together.

She weren't an easy woman,
I'll grant you that,

but when we first got married,
setting up our first home...

Oh, those were wonderful days.

And then you lost your son.

I was away with the RAF
at the time.

Mary blamed me for that.

Maybe she was right.

Although I'm not sure
what I could've done.

Who do you blame?

I suppose I could blame sir Magnus.

He was the one who set
up those treasure hunts.

He hid the coin that could have
drawn my boy into the water.

And I suppose that might have
given me a reason to kill him,

if that's what you're thinking.

Although you might wonder
why I waited twelve years.

- And what of Brent?
- The groundsman? Huh!

He was close by.
He could've kept an eye out.

He was the one who found Sam.

Although by then, it was far too late.

I suppose he did what he could.

Robert saw them just
as they was coming out,

and he charged into the water, too.

Sam!

Sam!

Sam!

I'm not sure Robert ever recovered

from what he saw that day.

- In what way?
- His relationship with Mary.

Turning his back on me.

You have my sympathies,
Mr. Blakiston,

but still, I have to ask,

is that the reason you chose
not to speak to your own son

- at his mother's funeral?
- What good would it have done?

I've been out of his
life for far too long now.

And anyway, the two of
us was never that close.

He was always a very quiet boy.

Kept himself to himself.

To be honest, I was closer to Sam.

Did the two of them get on?

Well, they fought like all young boys.

There were jealousies.

But I'd say yes.

And what of Robert and his mother?

Everything changed
after the accident.

To lose a child is so terrible.

I suppose she
became over-protective

with the one that was left.

Suddenly she was all over him.

Never let him out of her sight.

Thank you, Mr. Blakiston.

Oh, um, what can you
tell me about Bella?

The dog?

Somebody poisoned her.

It was quite deliberate.
Rat poison.

We always assumed it
was Brent. He hated the dog.

He was always
complaining about it.

Sam was devastated.

Why Sam in particular?

Well, it was his dog.

I bought her for him
for his ninth birthday.

If you ask me, everything
about Pye Hall is cursed.

The dog killed. The
little boy drowned.

Mary Blakiston.
Sir Magnus.

If you want the truth,

I don't want to spend
another minute there.

You may have your wish, James.

We need to meet with
detective inspector Chubb,

but after that, we will be
returning at once to London.

Don't tell me.

You know who did it!

Matthew Blakiston provided
the last piece of the Jigsaw.

Well then, do tell me!
I want to know.

We have a long drive.

"We have a long drive.
I will explain it all."

It's so infuriating
because he never did.

So you're no closer?

No.

I'm sorry, Charles, it's all gone.

All the notes.
Everything.

And Claire Jenkins had a
copy, but she destroyed it.

And that's the closest I got.

Well, full marks for trying.

- Hmm!
- There's, uh...

Something I need to tell you, Susan.

I've approached Peter
Kinsale of Harper Collins

for the position of CEO.

Ah.

Cityworld couldn't wait any longer.

They've asked me
to explore the field.

You know how much I
want you to take the job.

I couldn't leave the
company in better hands,

but I can't risk the
investors walking away.

What did Peter say?

He had some interesting ideas.

He suggested Sophie Hannah
be brought in

to finish "Magpie Murders".

Oh, you told him about the book.

Oh, I had to. Without "Magpie
Murders" there's no deal.

Yeah. Sophie's a good idea.

She did a great job with "Poirot".

That's what I thought.

Does she know who did it?

She's reading it now.

Ah, so this... sounds
like a done deal.

Nothing's been agreed.
There's still time.

No, uh...

I think you've made
the right decision.

I think we both have.

We have worked together...
How many years?

Oh!

Too many.

How long will it all take?

We'll need to make
an announcement soon.

Hmm!

She wants to use
my title, by the way.

- I'm sorry?
- Sophie.

She likes "the Magpie Murders".

Not "Magpie Murders".

I suppose we'll never
know why Alan got so upset.

Not "the Magpie Murders".
"Magpie Murders".

That's the bloody title.

"Cat up nudist".
One word.

It's an anagram of Atticus Pund.

Alan loved anagrams.

Darnley.
D-a-r-n-l-e-y.

It's an anagram of Ryeland.
It's us!

An...

Anagram.

An anagram.

I'm off, Susan.
Is that ok?

- Yeah.
- I've got my check-up at five.

- Oh, yes. Hope it goes ok.
- Oh, thanks.

Oh, by the way,
Jemima said hello.

Jemima?
Have you seen her?

I bumped into her at the
station a couple of nights ago.

- We're gonna meet next week.
- Ah.

Alice, Alice!

Have you got a number for her?

- Hey, Chris.
- Hey.

- Can you do me a favour?
- Sure. What is it?

My friend was sent an email,

but we don't know
where it came from.

Mm-hm.

I forwarded it to myself, but
I need to know the source.

Well, that's easy. Just
look at the metadata.

I don't know what that means.

I'll do it.

Ok, so that's your original IP.

Put it into MX Toolbox.
Reverse lookup.

And... there!

It originated from Clover Books.

What?

Hmm. Nice shot.

It's good of you to
come out, Jemima. Thank you.

It's nice to see you, Susan.

Oh! You ok?

Yeah. Huh!

I'm starting at
channel four. Pa.

Oh, that's great.

So, I just wanted to talk to you

about the manuscript
for "Magpie Murders".

I know. Charles
already emailed me.

But I promise you,
it wasn't my fault.

Oh, no. I'm not blaming you.

I photocopied everything
Charles gave me.

I can't remember how
many pages it was now.

- It was over three hundred.
- Yeah.

I did a page
count. I always did.

And you didn't leave it
in the machine room?

No, I gave both
copies to Charles.

You had just left for Frankfurt,
so he said he'd look after it.

- And you didn't read it?
- Only the page numbers.

Oh, no, wait a minute.

You just said that I'd
already left for Frankfurt.

Yeah. Wednesday morning.

No. No, that's not possible

because, well, Alan only
gave Charles the manuscript

on Thursday night
when they had dinner.

No, it came in the
post on Wednesday.

I photocopied it straight away,
and Charles had it before lunch.

- Are you sure?
- Yeah.

- "Magpie Murders"?
- Of course I'm sure.

It was our biggest book.

Charles told me
not to tell anyone.

He wanted to surprise you.

Why did you leave so suddenly?

Cos Charles asked me to.

He told me that you were
the one who wanted to leave.

That's not true.

I told him I was looking around,

that I really wanted
to work in TV,

but when I came in
on Friday morning,

he just said it would
be better for both of us

if I left at once.

He paid me a month's wages.

That's it.

What?

Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes, yes!

Susan? What are you doing?

I thought everyone had gone.

I left something, so I...

Ah!

I see you found it.

Yes. The missing chapter.

You had it all along.

I can explain if you'll let me.

I think you should.

Would you like a whisky?

Uh! Just a small one.

Very good.

You must understand everything
I've done is for the company.

I had to protect us.

See...

Oh, god.

It's not easy to explain!

Well then, why don't you let me?

Why don't we start
last Wednesday

when I was in Frankfurt?

That was when the
manuscript actually arrived.

It was sent to you in the post.

You read it before your dinner
with Alan on Thursday night.

That's right.

You sent Jemima away.
You told her to leave

because you didn't
want her to tell me

that you'd already read it.

- She was leaving anyway.
- Well...

The dinner with Alan
was... Was horrible.

He was drunk.

Drunk and threatening.
You have no idea...

I'm fed up with it all!

I'm fed up with
Atticus fucking Pund.

You don't know how long
I've been waiting to do him in!

Alan, please.

That same
evening he wrote you a letter,

effectively apologising
for his behaviour.

The letter was handwritten.

Yes, it was.

But an apology
wasn't enough, was it?

On Saturday evening, you
drove up to Abbey Grange.

Uh...

Incidentally, you gave
yourself away about that.

I should have spotted it.

I'm sorry, what do you mean?

Well, when we drove up for
the funeral, you were very helpful.

Don't worry,
Charles. We will get there.

Find the pages.
Save the company.

Turn right here. You want
to avoid the road works.

You knew about the road works

well before we got to them.

But a few days earlier,
I'd asked you a question.

That house of
his, Abbey Grange -

when was the last
time you saw it?

Oh, I haven't been in
Suffolk for five or six months.

He changed the name.
Did you know that?

Five or six months.

You were doing
everything you could

to distance yourself from
the scene of the crime.

But you were lying

because you knew
about the roadworks.

I should've guessed.

Are you accusing
me of Alan's murder?

That's... That's ridiculous.

Nobody needed him
alive more than me.

Apart from anything else,
I needed that last chapter.

Well, we'll get to
that in a minute

if that's all right with you.

So, once you arrived, you...

You parked your
car out of sight.

As it happens, Andreas
had got there ahead of you,

and he was with Alan.

And that was when
you took the photo.

You sent it to me

because you didn't
want me to investigate.

You thought I'd give up

if I believed Andreas
was involved.

We've known each other
for so many years, Charles.

How could you be so cruel?

I was afraid for you,
Susan. I'll admit that.

Going up there,

blundering in with no
idea what was at stake.

Ok. Well then, let's...

Let's talk about the
stakes, shall we?

The sale to Cityworld Media.

Your beloved publishing company.

All those shares,

the millions of pounds
you were going to be paid.

And he was going
to destroy it all.

Yes!

Because he hated
writing murder mysteries.

He hated Atticus Pund.

He thought he
was better than that.

Alan Conway wanted to be
salman rushdie or hilary mantel.

It's extraordinary, really,

because the more
successful he was,

the more miserable he became.

He was ludicrous.

But then he was diagnosed
with a terminal disease,

and that changed everything.

He didn't need money anymore.

Fame wasn't going to help,
and actually it disgusted him.

But he'd always have
this idea that one day...

He'd destroy Atticus Pund.

Give him his own version
of the reichenbach falls,

and one that the literary
world would never forget.

In fact...

It was built into the books.

"Atticus Pund investigates",

"no rest for the wicked",

"Atticus Pund takes the case"...

The first letters spell out...

An anagram.

Of course, it only works

if the last book's called
"Magpie Murders",

and not "the Magpie Murders".

Yes. Alan did tell me that.

But an anagram of what?

You know, I only worked
it out on the way here.

Go on.

Do I need to?

You already know it.

It's what he told you when
he got drunk over dinner

in that fancy restaurant.

What Alan wanted was
to destroy the books,

to make them valueless,

because that's what he
always thought they were.

And this was his torpedo.

The actual name
of his detective.

- Atticus Pund.
- Mm.

He knew what he was
doing from the very beginning.

Oh, yeah. He'd already
jumbled up the letters

to make "cat up nudist."

But there was a second...

Much worse anagram.

- Wasn't there?
- Do tell.

Three words.

The first is "a".

The second is...

"Stupid".

And that leaves
a four letter word.

And one of the worst...

One of the most offensive
in the English language.

If people had found out,

if people had realised
that this was "Atticus Pund",

well, it wasn't just the
last book that was at stake,

it was the entire series,

and you could forget about
any deal with Cityworld Media,

and you would
have lost millions.

And that, Charles...

Is why you had to kill him.

Ah.

You're not going to deny it?

I tried to dissuade him.

We went up to the tower.

You mean, you
persuaded him to take you.

Well, he liked to
show off the view.

But Alan, for god's sake,

your books have brought
pleasure to millions of people.

- Not to me.
- Oh, god, I...

I can't believe that you've
been planning this all along.

- I mean, it's crazy!
- Actually, it kept me sane.

It reminded me of the
rubbish it actually was.

But you'll destroy my company,
my staff, my other authors.

What makes you
think I give a damn?

Oh, you go to hell, Alan.

Go to hell!

Argh!

Ooh.

- Do you mind if I have another?
- No. Go ahead.

You?

No, I'm all right.

But killing him
wasn't enough, was it?

You needed a cover story.

You'd read the book.

You'd seen something
in the final chapter

that you could use.

But you had to make sure
no one else ever read it.

So, you cleared
out Alan's office,

taking all his notes
and earlier drafts,

but also, the real prize -

a handwritten draft
of the final chapter.

The book finishes
with a suicide letter.

Not from Alan Conway.
From Atticus Pund.

That's how the book ends.

He has a degenerative disease,

so he decides to
take his own life.

"By the time you read
this, it will all be finished.

"I have achieved great success

"in a life that has
gone on long enough.

"I have left you some
notes with regard...

"to my condition and the
decision I have made."

- Does that even sound like him?
- Alan clearly wasn't himself.

I'm an editor, I really should
have trusted my instincts.

"With regard to my condition."

It's a little...

Stilted.

Old-fashioned.

That wasn't Alan's voice.

It was Pund's.

It's Atticus Pund

writing about the fact that
he has very little time left.

He's dying.

And that's what you needed.

I found this.

It's from Alan.

It's his suicide note.

The first half of the
letter was the apology,

the second half was
taken from the book.

Together, they told exactly
the story you wanted.

Remorse... And then resignation.

There's just one small detail
you hoped nobody would notice.

- But you of course did.
- Yes.

The letter was handwritten,

but you had to find
an old envelope.

And the envelope was typed.

Meaning the whole
thing had been faked.

Exactly.

Well...

You seem to have put
it all together, Susan,

and I must congratulate you.

But it does beg one
question, doesn't it?

What happens now?

- What do you mean?
- Are you going to turn me in?

No! I don't need to be involved.

I think it would be
much better all round

if you called the
police yourself.

You realise they'll send
me to prison. I'll get life.

I won't come out.

Yes, Charles, that's what
happens when you commit murder.

I thought you might
make some allowances.

As you yourself said,

we've known each
other for a long time.

It seems I didn't
know you at all.

Would you allow me at least

to spend the evening
at home with my family?

Before I make the call?

If you don't call them
tomorrow, then I will.

But yes, you need to
explain everything to Elaine.

Elaine.

Yes.

Ah, I'm going to miss all this.

I'm sorry.

Are you? You seem
more self-righteous to me.

You can think what
you like. I'm leaving.

Good night, Susan.

Ah!

Ah!

Why did you have to
be so bloody obstinate?

I didn't want you looking
for the missing pages.

I don't care about
the missing book.

Jesus Christ.

All I was doing was
protecting myself,

- and my family and my future.
- Charles!

That's what I'm doing
now. You made me!

Charles, no!

Charles...

Charles, what are you doing?

Please, Charles... Uh!

Oh, Charles...

I'm sorry, Susan. I really am.

Charles. Charles!

Please!

I gave you a chance.

You should have taken it!

Oh!

Susan!

Susan!

- Susan!
- Andreas.

It... it was Charles.

It was Charles.

That's all right. Come on.

You're awake.

Thank god.

Katie.

Andreas called and
told me what happened.

I came down at once.

Where is Andreas?

He won't be long.

Are you all right, sue? Do
you want me to call the doctor?

No.

Where's Charles?

He was arrested.

Andreas saw him
coming out of the building.

He killed Alan.

It's unbelievable.

- Am I... oh!
- No, you're all right.

The doctors have looked at you.

You're gonna be fine.

How are you, Katie?

How's dad?

Let's not talk about that now.

No, no. I want to know.

Dad's gone.

I didn't want to tell you.

No, it's... Better that you did.

Sorry.

You don't have to say that.

I should never have
got involved in all of this.

You told me not to.

Here...

Mm... It's the smoke. It...

It's done something to my lungs.

- The doctor said...
- I know. I know. They told me.

Mm.

- Thank you.
- You're welcome.

Thank you.

Why were you there...
Andreas, at the office?

I was looking for you,
of course. Why else?

I found out that the
photograph you were sent

came from Clover
books, and I was worried.

What I said to you...

Will you ever forgive me?

I already have.

How could I have
possibly believed

- even for a minute...?
- It doesn't matter.

It doesn't matter.

- It's all behind us now.
- Hmm.

I want to talk about Crete.

I just wish it wasn't Alan's
money in the hotel, but...

I'm not going.

Oh, yes, you are.

And I'm going with you.

- You're not feeling well.
- Ah...

- You're hallucinating.
- I am not.

Yes.

Ok. We'll talk about it
when you're better, hmm?

Ah!

I was wondering when
you were going to show up.

- How are you feeling?
- Awful.

I mucked everything up.

I accused Andreas, and
I nearly got myself killed.

You're being too
hard on yourself.

You solved the crime.

The killer has been apprehended.

I would say you have
done remarkably well.

Hmm!

I'll take that as a
compliment, coming from you.

The missing chapter?

Yes.

You have read it?

Not yet.

I've read the last
pages with the letter,

but not the solution.

I'm not sure I'm quite up to it.

"Magpie Murders".

You solved them?

The detective will
always solve the crime

as sure as day
will follow the night.

In the world in which I exist,
this is an immutable fact.

Ah, yes.

The certainty.

That's why people love you.

You wish to know the answer?

Are you kidding?

That's all I want to know.

Then come with me.

Now?

You are too busy?

Where are we going?

To the Queen's
Arms Public House.

And who are we meeting?

It was joy Sanderling who
first came to me for help,

and it is she who must
hear what I have to say.

My friends are waiting.

Detective inspector. James.

Are we ready?

We are indeed.

You asked me to
come to Saxby-on-Avon

on account of one
death, miss Sanderling.

That was the death
of Mary Blakiston

just one day after
her son, Robert,

had been overheard
threatening her.

- I didn't threaten her.
- Huh.

But that is how
it was construed.

- I never touched her.
- I know that.

I know exactly how
your mother died.

It was an accident.

That's not what
you told me, Pund.

You said lady
Frances killed her.

Oh, she did.

Inadvertently.

You will recall

that she told us that she
telephoned mrs Blakiston

on the very day of her death.

It was, I believe, the telephone
call that was responsible,

uh, for she also told
us something else.

This is Atticus Pund. He's
a well-known investigator.

Would you take that, darling?

The telephones
don't work upstairs.

Nothing works in this house.

It's just one thing
after another.

We know that Mary
Blakiston was vacuuming

at the top of the stairs.

Let us imagine that
the telephone rings.

I rang her the morning she died,

and when she didn't answer,

I thought there must
be something wrong.

She cannot
answer it in the bedroom.

She has to hurry downstairs,

and in her haste, her foot
becomes entangled in the wire.

Ooh! Oh! Oh!

So, Robert had
nothing to do with it.

Exactly.

I knew it.

What about the
death of sir Magnus?

That is indeed the question.

The answer is that the two
deaths were inextricably linked.

One led directly to the other.

But there is a third death
also that we must consider,

a death that took
place twelve years ago.

Sam?

Yes.

That is where this story begins.

A lodge house. A
room with a view.

The collar of a dog
that has been killed.

Two brothers.

He was always a very quiet boy.

Kept himself to himself.

To be honest, I
was closer to Sam.

Did the two of them get on?

Well, they fought
like all young boys.

There were jealousies.

But I'd say yes.

- I spoke to your father.
- When?

This morning.

He gave me an
image of two brothers

who were jealous of one another
and sometimes came to blows.

The young one was
given a dog, Bella.

Bella! Here, girl!

Last one to the
lake is a rotten egg.

Keep up, Bella!

A terrible thing
happened to this dog.

She was poisoned,
it seems deliberately.

That was Brent.

Why, then, did
your mother keep the collar

in a drawer in the room in
which she worked all those years?

What was it that she
wished to be reminded of?

I don't understand
why you're asking this.

I'm trying only to understand
the character of your mother,

for there was something else
that was told me by your father.

Everything changed
after the accident.

Suddenly she was all over him.

Never let him out of her sight.

What was it that changed?

Why? Before, it would seem

that your mother was
not close to you, Robert.

But afterwards, you
became almost her prisoner.

- I was!
- Your father assumed

that it was because she
was afraid to lose you.

But could it be...

That she knew what you had done,

and she was afraid that
you might do it again?

What are you talking about?

I'm talking about the
fact that as a child,

Robert Blakiston was
disturbed to the extent

that he killed a dog that
had been given to his brother

and later, in a fit of
jealousy or anger,

he drowned that brother
in the lake at Pye Hall,

an act seen by his mother

from the window in the
room in which she worked,

the one room in the house
that had a view of the water.

No. That's wrong.

- That's ridiculous.
- You believe so?

Then I will ask
you two questions.

Why was there a need for Robert
to throw himself into the water

when Brent,
carrying his brother,

had almost reached dry land?

Well, I was fourteen years old.

I didn't know what I was doing.

I think you knew exactly
what you were doing.

You were disguising the fact

that you were
already soaking wet.

And my second question.

Why was Mr. Blakiston
so opposed to the idea

- of you marrying her son?
- I told you.

You told me, miss Sanderling,

what you believed
to be the case,

but perhaps you were mistaken.

- No.
- I'm sorry?

You are not gonna marry my son.

Mum!

I'm thinking about
future generations.

Can't be tainted.

I won't have it.

You're not being serious.

- You can't think that.
- I won't even discuss it.

Now, I'm warning you, Robert.

This marriage will not go ahead.

"So future generations
cannot be tainted."

You believed that mrs
Blakiston was referring to you

in a way that was
truly reprehensible.

But suppose her
words were in fact

addressed to her son, Robert?

Suppose that she was afraid

that he might poison
you and your future family

with the same madness that
had led him to kill his own brother?

No, this is all just words.

You're just making stuff up!
You can't prove a word of it!

When there is only one
explanation that makes sense,

then that is all the
proof that you require.

- No, I've had enough of this.
- Oh! No, no, you're staying.

- Go on, Mr. Pund.
- Yes, go on.

Let us now enter
the mind of Mary Blakiston.

She has a son whom she
knows to be dangerous.

She watches him, never
lets him out of her sight,

but... she also fears
for her own safety.

What will she do should
he ever turn on her?

What can she do
to protect herself?

She writes a letter.

She writes a letter,
explaining how Sam was killed.

Also, what happened to Bella.

She reveals that her older
son is dangerously disturbed,

and she gives it to
the one man she trusts,

indeed, whom she reveres.

Sir Magnus Pye.

It is a letter to be kept secure

only to be opened should
anything untoward happen to her.

She tells her son
what she has done,

and now she has
no need to fear him.

Sir Magnus places it in the
safe, and there it remains...

Until her death.

Until the accident occurs.

Mary Blakiston dies

just one day after her
son has threatened her.

And it is at her funeral,
Robert realises he's in danger.

You remember, James, what
the reverend Osborne told us.

He said that Robert
became very upset.

No, no, no, no. It
was more than that.

So, although we are here
today to mourn her departure,

we must also remember
what she left behind...

No... no!

"We must also remember
what she left behind."

What she had left
behind was a letter

which identified Robert
as the killer of his brother

all those years before.

It would have destroyed
his life in the village.

It would have ended,
miss Sanderling,

his relationship with you.

- So, he tried to steal it.
- Exactly.

He broke into Pye
hall the same night

in an attempt to find the letter

before sir Magnus
returned from his holiday.

But he couldn't open the safe.

That's why he
faked the burglary!

He stole the silver, he
got rid of it in the lake,

dropping the two pieces
that Brent later found.

Then, sir Magnus came home.

Robert arranged to meet him,

and we can imagine
what occurred.

But she was wrong, sir.
You've got to believe me.

But you threatened her.

Half the village heard it.

And the very next day...

That wasn't me!

You wanted her
dead. You said so.

And everyone heard you.

I have to say,
Robert, I am sickened.

I think you ought to leave.

I believed in you,
tried to help you.

After that, there
was but one thing to do.

He returned to the study,

burned the incriminating letter,

at the same time transferring

some of sir Magnus's
blood onto the page.

But in his haste,
he made an error.

On the desk, I saw it at once.

A typed letter

in a handwritten envelope.

He burned the letter that
his mother had handwritten,

but he also burned
the typed envelope

containing the
threatening letter

that Clarissa Pye had delivered,

leaving behind the envelope

with the handwriting I later
recognised as Mary Blakiston's.

Does this not tell
you a great deal

about the murder of sir Magnus?

It's not what is written.
It is how it is written.

That is where the
solution can be found.

The same handwriting.

It told me almost
everything I needed to know.

Is this true, Robert?

It is, isn't it?

Oh, my god.

I did it for you.

For us.

What else could
I do? I love you.

I just wanted to be with you.

Better come with me.

I have to say, you were
on top form back there.

Ah, you're too kind.

No. Seriously.

It'll make for a
bestseller. I'm sure of it.

Is that what matters to you?

Not so much anymore.

I'm leaving publishing.

- I'm going to Crete.
- Oh.

I think you'll be happy there.

I hope so.

Do you know what happens
to you at the end of the book?

I knew it from the start.

I'm sorry.

Oh, there's no need to
be. There are eight books.

Nine now.

I'll not be forgotten.
At least for a time.

No, I mean, I'm sorry because...

Well, I suppose it means
I won't see you again.

We have separate paths
to follow, miss Ryeland.

I've asked you
not to call me that.

It's been a pleasure.

For me, too.

Goodbye, Atticus.

Goodbye, Susan.