All language subtitles for 03 The 4-50 From Paddington

Just.

A letter from Edmund.

Who?

He's met a girl and married her.

In London.

We've tied the knot now.

Without any fuss.

Just in case.

Her name is Martine.

She's French.

I'll bring her down to meet you all
before I sail.

I'm asleep when they come.

Tell them.

Tell them from us.

It's only love that matters.

Love, not money.

However much you may have.

Edith. Cedric.

I love them all so much.

She's gone.

Oh, Dad.

A single to St

Mary Mead, if you please.

First class.

Jane, fetch out the damson gin.

I'm catching the 450 from Paddington.

oh

Don't. No, don't.

I've just seen a murder!

There's nothing in the headlines.

Have a look in the stop press.

I must have found the poor woman's body
by now. When I changed train, that

appended that he was going to report it
immediately.

And you told him you'd be staying here?
Yes, I gave him your telephone number to

pass on to the police.

He did believe you?

Why the devil shouldn't he?

Oh, I'm not so sure.

The awful thing is I'm beginning to
doubt it myself.

Last week I put sugar on my kippers.

I don't think I'm going doolally. Anyone
less doolally than you, Elspeth, I have

yet to meet.

Should I still go tomorrow?

Roddy will be so disappointed. It's his
first Christmas without Margaret.

And only your second without Arthur.

If I can be of some comfort to the poor
sweet man.

Then you must do your duty.

Is it very hot in Ceylon?

I'm sticking.

There's been plenty of light frock.

I'm rather worried about the firing,
Jane, but she'll just have to change

frequently.

Oh, dear, Elspeth, you won't perspire.

You'll glow.

Now, if we get our skates on, we should
just catch the 10 .33.

Where to?

I've had enough of trains.

I can only apologise that no -one
thought to relay the astonishing news to

sooner. Astonishing?

Yeah.

Surprised we didn't get the headlines.

Amazing discovery.

No corpse on train.

Told you they wouldn't believe me.

Now, now, now, be fair, Mrs
McGillicuddy. The attendant did call the

police, and they called us. I
interrupted major pickpocket

identify the offending train, which was
then held at the next stop with

considerable disruption to the
timetable.

A full search was carried out.

There was no body.

What about the passengers?

Did you look in their luggage?

Why? You read about bodies in suitcases,
don't you?

I know what must have happened.

The murderer must have pushed the body
out of the train.

Have you any idea how hard it is to open
a train door at speed, let alone shove

a body out?

In any case, on the off chance that
Charles Atlet is the murderer, all the

drivers and the guards on that line have
been asked to keep an eye open for a

body by the track.

So far, the phones have remained silent.

Now... I have work to do. Which train
was it, may I ask, and where was it

searched? Police information is
confidential, dear.

If I was 20 years younger, I would put
you across my knee and tan your hide,

snotty little pup.

And it's railway information, not police
information, when you think of it, and

we all own the railways now, don't we?

I've got the time table.

Still not done.

Oh, dear.

Did they have a map?

They did.

That's us.

Very same train.

Oh, there's the murderers on it again.

I doubt he makes a habit of strangling
women on trains.

No. What was the last carriage?

Third class.

How soon after the murder did you reach
Hampton Parva and change for St Mary

Mead? The attendant said it was seven
minutes to the next station, and that

two minutes at the most after I told him
what I'd seen. If we assume, then, that

the murder happened nine minutes before
and you arrived at the station at 5 .35,

that John's inspector said this train
was searched at Brackhampton, which

have been at 5 .40.

Here's where we are now.

Uh, the tracks run side by side.

Must be almost there.

Would you mind strangling me, Elspeth?

Not at all, Jane.

Please don't mind us.

It's a bit rocky.

We're slowing down.

That's why the blind flew up when he
did.

Where exactly are we?

Right slap bang in the middle of
nowhere, by the look of it. This is

must have seen the other train.

Oh, yes, Lord, it's James.

I've also got my cover -up.

Wait, wait, please, please.

Alexander!

James!

What did I tell you?

You are never, never to come this far
without my permission.

Sorry, Daddy.

Sorry, Miss Weasley. It was my fault.

Je m 'excuse, Papa.

No, je m 'excuse.

What would your mother say if I had to
call and tell her you'd fallen in?

Come on.

It's time to eat.

Slow down around this curve.

The railway follows the boundary of a
very large estate just before

Brackhampton. The house is Rutherford
Hall.

Rutherford Hall. That clangs a damn
great bell.

I just can't... Oh, maybe I am going to
wheel it.

No, no, no, you're not. It'll come to
you. I only had a glimpse, but we were

looking down.

The line runs along an embankment.

Well, if that's where he pushed the body
out, it would have rolled down into the

ground. No one would... and no one's
seen it by the track.

He was a lucky brook.

If it was luck.

It's the only place a train would be
going slowly enough to manage it.

It's just possible he chose the spot
very carefully indeed.

But why is no one at Rutherford Hall
found her?

Could be unoccupied.

So many of our big houses are being sold
off. No, it is occupied, James. Just

remembered. Look, Rutherford Hall.

Cook housekeeper for Christmas holidays.

Thank you again for my present.

And for yours.

I'd hate to run out of talcum powder in
that climate.

Oh, dear.

It's the first time Mr Inch has been to
the airport.

It's the first time I've been to Salome.
I hope the pilot knows the way.

Now, promise me you won't do anything
foolhardy. Promise.

Not on my own.

Oh.

Feather the place.

Mr. Coward. I'll finish laying the
table.

Not so fast.

A few words of heartfelt appreciation on
your last day.

Miss Islesborough breezed in like a
whirling dervish a fortnight ago to

me, standing in not only for my
secretary but also for my housekeeper.

Clearly, I overpay them both.

In August, she was in Turkey looking
after a sultan.

Did you know that a sultan's wife is
called a sultana?

Every time I bite into a slice of
fruitcake, I wonder if... I'm so sorry.

Mr. Apple, Lucy, sorry.

Whoever she is, dear, speak to her about
timing.

This one's for you, Dickie.

Is that Lord Mountbatten? Yes.

Raymond said you wouldn't mind my coming
unannounced, but...

No, I dare you.

It's lovely to meet you again.

How is Raymond?

You know my nephew, footloose and fancy
-free, like you, Lucy.

And long may it be so.

I do what I do, I see who I see, I meet
who I meet, and it's glorious.

It's lovely to meet you again, but... Of
course.

Now, I couldn't pay nearly your normal
rate, but Raymond said he'd help, and

everything I know about you... convinces
me.

You'll take it on.

You want to engage me?

Yes. Would you like an adventure?

Possibly.

It's quite a challenge.

Very possibly.

I want you to find a body.

Lucy Islesborough.

I'm Emma Crecganthorpe.

What a smart car.

Thank you.

Wow! Look at that car!

It's lovely, isn't it, boys?

Boys, don't touch.

Come in.

Do we only occupy this wing now, my
father and myself?

Though, as I said, there's family for
Christmas, which is why I advertised.

That was my brother -in -law, Brian,
with the boys.

Alexander's his.

James, my school chum. You have a
sister?

I envy you.

Just brother's me.

Edie died.

Having Alexander.

I'm so sorry.

Would you wait here?

I'll see if my father's ready for you.

The Gobstopper King.

Sorry. David Quimper, Miss Asbury.

Emma said you were starting.

Is someone ill?

Well, more than usual, no. I've given
him the once -over, Luther, Mr

Crackenthorpe. But I really came here to
talk to Emma.

That's Luther's father, Sir Marcus.

Crackenthorpe Confectionery.

Rotting the nation's teeth since 1881.

You surely had.

A nougatine twirly in your time? I don't
think so.

Or a choco -melty bar?

Oh, yes.

Wasn't I thick?

It's ours, Barrow.

Excuse me.

Thank you.

Dr. Quimper.

Doctor?

I'm delving for your name.

It has a definite Anglo -Saxon something
about it. It's not in the Chronicle.

I wondered if I'd seen it in Ivanhoe.

Isn't there an Ainsborough, though, in
Hereward the Wake?

Perhaps you're thinking of that.

Hereward the Wake?

Charles Kingsley.

Yes, I know.

I'll dust off my copy and have a look.

Has Emma explained everything?

We two manage with a local girl who
comes in most weekdays, so you won't

be on your own.

She's twice a week now.

Why's that? Money again?

Never mind.

There's Alfred.

I'll go down.

Alfred's my eldest son.

Sponging a bucksy Christmas again.

Who else will be here?

Just Brian and the boys and Alfred.

It's a pity you won't get to meet
Cedric. He has to fly off again

He's the only free spirit among them. He
paints in Spain.

Well, Ibiza.

If I were younger.

Oh, and Alfred's with Jacqueline, his
girl.

Observe, if you will, Miss Islesbarrow,
the sheer tawdryness of Jacqueline

Briggs. There's no -one with him.

They must have ditched her.

Where's Jacqueline?

Miss Alice Farrow?

Dine with us tonight.

I'll be in the kitchen, Mr.

Crackenthorpe. For me?

Just up here.

Mind your head there.

See what I mean?

I've done my best.

Perfectly charming, Tom. And so kind. I
just had a fancy for a change from

village life.

In Brackhampton?

Well, there's a Roman wall, isn't there?

About three feet of it behind the
municipal swimming pool.

And an interesting church.

It's not that interesting.

There's a Norman window in the east
wall, I suppose.

I think I've got a guidebook of St
Matthew's, if you really want to have a

at...

Don't worry. Never mind.

Oh, look, there's my lift to work.

We're quite busy, actually.

Are you?

Yeah. Will you be staying long?

Well, I did wonder, have you made plans
for Christmas?

No.

Do you know what? I'd be delighted, Miss
Marple. Absolutely delighted.

Hello?

Mr. Eastley?

The boys want to know if you make
treacle sponge pudding.

You can tell them I'm famous for it.

Can I be useful?

I don't know.

Can you?

It's great, the carrot.

What is wrong with Mr. Crackenforth?

Grief, mostly.

Despair, his eldest son, his wife, his
daughter.

Miss Crackenforth told me about your
wife. Evie.

I'm sorry.

Sure.

What happened to Edmund, was it?

U -boat in the Atlantic, just after
Luther lost Agnes.

Ten years ago, last week, she died.

Last week?

December 4th.

Tuesday. Yes.

We always gather to remember her.

Why don't I take this to the trash? No,
no, no.

Waste not, want not.

That's the one for Christmas dinner.

With prune and chestnut stuffing.

Now that I am famous for.

Anglo -Saxon for what an excellent
dinner, more

or less.

Brian did the sprouts.

I bet he did.

What will we do for tart without your
precious Jackie Lee? Dad, please.

Don't embarrass me. Jackie and I... I
don't even know where

she is and I care even less.

Happy? I haven't been happy for ten
years.

Change the record.

I'll play it as often as I want.

Why the hell couldn't we have had Cedric
after Edmund instead of you? Even

Harold would have been better by
Whitskill.

What'll happen to this place when I fall
off the twig? Don't be so morbid.

Morbid? With my space already booked out
there in that bloody mausoleum?

Quite an exciting life you lead, Emma
says.

It has its moments. I doubt it compares
with being a fighter pilot.

That seems a long way back.

I fly a desk now for an insurance
outfit.

Dull isn't the word.

This must be a bit of a comedown for
you.

It suits me very well. I have an aunt in
Brackhampton, sweet old thing. I

thought I might see her occasionally, if
I have time.

I'll take the apple tarts.

Oh, and there's cheese.

And may I call my aunt?

Of course.

The family were here on the 4th, the day
of the murder.

Where would someone with knowledge of
the estate conceal a body?

Where is Alfred's missing girlfriend,
Jacqueline Brick?

That's what you must concentrate on.

It's in the next chapter, Miss Hartnell,
but I won't spoil it for you. Just wait

until the end. There's a very ingenious
twist.

Bye -bye.

Bye.

What a shame it's so run down.

I suppose with the war and sweets still
on ration.

Well, Crackenthorpe Confectionery
doesn't figure. Old Marcus sold it off.

Luther inherited all this, but has to
run it on the interest from a trust fund

he shares with the rest of us. In my
case, through Alexander.

It's a pretty small change.

Poor Emma won't even see a slice of the
fund when it pays out on Luther's death.

That's real bucks. So unfair.

She's a woman.

Luther's hands are tied by his old man's
crazy will.

They fell out, family stuff.

Well, can't he sell?

No.

Rutherford Hall has to pass to Alfred.

Since Edmund died, he's the eldest son.

What's that?

A mausoleum. The last resting place of
the Kraken Forbes.

Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!

Lucy! Lucy! Lucy! Lucy!

That's Miss Islebarrow to you.

But she said we could call her Lucy.
Didn't you, Miss Islebarrow?

I didn't say you could scream it.

Will you play with us?

Please? Please?

I'll do the sprouts.

Hooray! All right, then bed.

A hundred.

Yes.

One, two, three, four, five,

six... There's no fish and chip shop in
St Mary Mead, so I thought

it'd be a nice treat.

You always were a bad fitter.

I looked in your larder.

I'll shop.

I see you from my train, where the
railway curves along an embankment. The

largest stage in the house.

Rutherford Hall.

Now, that is interesting.

I had a lecture at the History Society.

Now, the place was cut off from
Brackhampton, but that was the railway.

In 18... 1838, the company offered the
family £900 for a slice of land

so the railway could keep going in a
straight line, supposedly.

The representative got a bit on the nose
and was sent packing.

So the track had to skirt the estate at
great cost.

Bad acreage these days.

I hate to think what that's worth.

Do you know the family?

The Crackenthorpes?

No. The doctor's an acquaintance,
though. Nice chap.

I think he's quite keen on the daughter.

Are you up to something, Miss Marple?

Am I?

I hope you don't mind my asking, Mr
Crackenthorpe.

But did you never think of joining the
family business?

I had a vision.

I saw my life unfolding before me,
drowning in a sea of sticky toffee and

pretending enthusiasm for a new line in
coconut fudge.

Oh, thank you, Dad, I told him. I have a
soul, even if you don't.

It was a spiteful man, cut me out of his
will.

Made sure his wealth skipped the
generation.

But at least I stood up to him.

Was that before you were married?

Yes, but money didn't mean anything to
Agnes.

She was a wonderful mother.

I stood up to him and she understood
why.

Buried myself in my books and got the
sort of liberal education he despised.

We were happy, believe it or not.

Mr.

Crackenthorpe.

She's gone.

I'll never see her again.

Jacqueline?

May I sit down?

Tell me about her.

Well, she wasn't what you'd call
beautiful.

But her eyes.

One look, you know?

Potty in her hands.

Any man who ever met her.

What happened?

She wanted to finish it.

I begged her not to, but she wouldn't
listen.

I know I'm not a very good sort. I do
know that.

Look, it's never too late to face up to
something terrible.

Oh, my God.

I think you know what happened to her,
don't you?

Tell me.

She's... run off with Councillor Bloody
Martin.

Wait, you mean she's not dead?

Dead?

No.

I just hope none of them press charges.

None of whom?

Oh, none of that fat, stupid married
pillars of Brackhampton society.

who looked into Jackie's eyes in
assorted hotel bedrooms and turned to

Just long enough for me to burst in and
play the wronged husband.

Except she really fell for the last one.

Martin.

That's dreadful.

It's heartbreaking.

He was a bloody good little learner.

Make it yourself, Mr. Crackenthorpe.

Miss Islesborough?

Yes.

Detective Inspector Campbell,
Brackhampton CID.

He's taken to his bed again.

It's you I'm worried about.

The police are getting Harold Dallas to
come.

And Cedric.

He was supposed to be going back to
Spain today, but they've called the

What was Miss Islesbrough doing in the
mausoleum anyway?

You suffer from insomnia and went for a
midnight walk. Then you thought you'd

look in the mausoleum to see what it was
like.

No.

No?

That's what I told Miss Cragenthorpe.

But... I was looking for the body.

A friend of mine told me it was
somewhere here.

Why would he or she think there was a
body at Rutherford Hall?

She?

A friend of hers saw the woman murdered
on a train. I know it sounds improbable,

but my friend is never wrong.

Let me guess your friend's name.

Tom's father was the best village
constable St Mary Mead ever had.

Much missed.

I have a confession to make.

I did it.

I scrumped those apples from the Price
Ridley's orchard.

Yeah, it was obvious, but you learnt
your lesson falling into the nettle

The screams.

I had him right down to his birthday
suit and smothered every little bit of

in calamine lotion.

Now, we have our victim, but we don't
know who she is.

I wonder if these will help.

They're very commonplace.

If not to say common.

But thanks to Lucy, we know she wasn't
Jacqueline Briggs.

Well, the family didn't recognise the
photographs of the body, or so they say.

We're holding back where she was
murdered for the moment.

I'll keep my ears open.

Miss Asbarrow, you found a body and I'm
very grateful.

But I can't let you go back. You could
be in danger.

A victim without a murderer is like...
Well, I don't know what it's like.

I hate to leave a job half done. And I
promised to work at Rutherford Hall, so

can't let them down, can I?

Do hurry up, Harold.

And you, be careful with that.

It's dual.

It's a year's golf club membership and a
dozen good cigars is what it is. Lend a

hand, will you?

What, put my jacket on a puddle for a
ladyship to walk over?

I have no wish to soil my shoes on your
jacket, Alfred.

How long will we have to stay,
Inspector?

We're inspected for a Christmas house
party in Suffolk.

Well, that would depend on the progress
of my investigation.

My sergeant will be showing you some
photographs later of the body.

See if any of you...

Recognise the woman?

What does it say, Harold?

They think she died Tuesday of last
week. I don't see how they can tell, not

from the look of her.

It doesn't say when they think she was
placed in the mausoleum.

No idea who she is.

They're appealing for information.

Frederick, you've arrived.

You know me.

Can't resist a whodunit.

Hello.

Haven't seen you before.

Scrambled eggs?

Rather.

I was just about to board the plane when
I was taken aside.

It's very dramatic.

He showed me those terrible photographs.

Did you recognise her?

Sadly, yes.

She was an ex -lover who never got over
me.

Pester, pester, pester.

So I done her in.

How very amusing.

Well, I'm glad to see that you haven't
lost your sense of humour, Alice, my

sweet. And I thank you not to adopt that
tone with my wife. Don't be so pompous,

Harold. Here we are again, as happy as
can be. All good friends and jolly good

company.

Oh, there you are.

Dad!

It's all terrible there's a flatfoot in
the library.

Can you tell me where you were between 5
and 6 o 'clock on Tuesday the 4th of

December?

I was here.

How did you get here?

I drove.

Arrived early afternoon.

But the place seemed deserted.

Had a drink or three.

And waited.

I drove up early to take Emma into
Brackhampton Christmas shopping.

She never gets out of the house.

Boys were due on the Friday. I knew I'd
have my hands full then.

I can't remember which shops exactly.

Greenford's, I expect, and Lyall and
Swift.

Brian was with me the whole time.

We didn't get back till gone six.

My father was in one of his moods.

He doesn't much like my going out in the
afternoon.

He shut himself in his room and wouldn't
speak to me.

Was Alfred around when you arrived?

Yes. Yes, he was.

I believe he'd been here for some time.

I picked Lady Alice up from old friends
of hers, and then we came on here.

Alfred was drunk.

Ah, you're here at last.

How was the Henderson's?

At the time of the murder, I was in my
studio, touching up two senoritas and a

donkey, which is the title, of course,
of a painting that I have to finish for

an exhibition in January.

I lost track of the time, I missed the
evening flight, and I didn't arrive

the next day.

If it is from her, how do we know? She
didn't turn up anyway, did she?

Quite. Of course not, it's a put -up. Is
that Martine's letter?

They were just sitting, chatting, having
coffee.

Rather a pleasant change.

I heard a huge row.

No idea what about.

There never has to be a reason.

Happened in a bag.

Either Cedric or Luther is lying about
the argument the family were having.

However, Alfred's the only one without a
real alibi.

Do you want me to watch him? I want
you... to be careful of him.

You've got some... That's better.

You too, then.

Mr.

Oil Sparrow.

Your sister's digging out some red
ribbon for the festive touch.

I've just been checking your references.

Have you?

Yes, I spoke to Lord Leithley and Miss
Van Moysen. Everything seems to be in

order. Did you think I forged them?

I don't know what I thought, actually.

I know I saw you and the inspector
emerging from the coal house earlier.

yes, he was asking me some more
questions.

No, you were far too furtive.

I must say, he's a man of taste.

Was he indulging it?

Ow!

Lucy?

Everything okay?

Heathcliff?

Keep away from him.

Please. I can look after myself, Brian.

I'll bring out my protective side,
that's all.

Why is that?

Because you're special.

And beautiful.

That's something to think about, isn't
it?

Put it back.

David says we should tell the police.
You and your bloody doctor, no!

He would upset Father too much.

Have the, uh, Foxborough and the Compact
yielded anything?

What about the clothes?

It's on the cheap side.

Nothing special.

There were a couple of items with
Spanish labels.

Spanish? And the Compact is French.

We spoke to the manufacturer in Paris.

They don't export.

So she must have bought it in France.

Perhaps she was French.

Or Spanish.

Or just travelled widely.

Can't Brian control those children?

It's giving me a headache.

It's bad enough being cooped up together
without having anyone alone.

They're looking for clues.

And that inspector interviewed me. He
said he thought the dead woman might not

be British.

Did he tell you that?

No.

What, French?

He didn't say.

All I said was not British, but Emma
immediately assumed French.

She looks scared.

Yes, Aunt.

Of course.

But I am really rather busy.

Goodbye. Goodbye.

What were the victim's feet like?

Her feet?

Why? Maybe nothing, but it could be
something.

Well, I'll let you see the post -mortem
report.

There's Quimper now.

Told you, he always pops in for a cup of
tea after surgery.

David, join us.

Hello, Tom.

This is Miss Marple.

Jane Marple, Dr David Quimper.

Nice to meet you, Miss Marple. Dr
Quimper.

I'm an old friend from childhood days.

His, not mine, of course.

Are you visiting Brackhampton?

I'm staying at the most charming little
guest house.

Seeing something of the town, catching
up with Tom and all his doings. And with

my niece at Rutherford Hall, I can see
her too.

Your niece?

Lucy Islesbury.

She found a body, you know.

I do, yes.

How's the investigation?

It's nowhere until we've made an
identification.

How's Emma?

Taking it in her stride, as usual.

And?

You and her?

Pretend I'm not here.

Oh, but I do love the scent of romance
in the air.

You're in luck then, Miss Marple.

Emma and I are engaged.

I asked her the other day.

Well done.

It's not official.

We're not telling the family yet, so...
Almost a word.

Have you been in the Krakenthorpes long?

I just started my practice down here.

I saw Ella's mother out of the world.

It's only love that matters.

Love, not money.

Agnes never lived to see Edmund's wife.

How tragic.

He brought her home just after she died.

She was so very beautiful, Martine.

And shortly afterward, Edmund himself
was killed in

action. Martine?

She was French.

What happened to her? Doctor!

The family don't know.

Excuse me.

A rather demanding patient, I'm afraid.

Nice to meet you. The

family does know.

Or at least one of them does.

Why would he lie?

I think you should ask Emma
Crackenthorpe that.

If our body is Edmund's widow,
Martine...

Why would anyone want to kill her?

Shall we fight over the last cream horn?

Was it David who told you I'd heard from
Martine?

No. In fact, he lied for you.

He said I should have shown it to you
all along.

How did you find out?

It was my intuition.

It arrived out of the blue a fortnight
ago.

After Edmund was killed, Martine cut
herself off from us.

Until this.

She'd built a new life, she says.

But now she wants money to give her son.

Their son.

Some of life's advantages.

We had no idea there was a child.

No address.

She just announced she was coming down
here to meet everyone.

I telephoned the others as soon as it
came.

She says she'll come down on Tuesday.

December the 4th, yes.

The day you think this woman was
murdered.

She has a son. The child is family. If
it is from her, how do we know? She

didn't turn up anyway, did she?

Quite. Of course not. It's a put -up
job.

We only met Martine once, ten years ago.

It's awful photos.

If by any chance it was her, how could
any of us tell?

Why didn't you mention this?

My brothers didn't want a fuss.

They knew Martine was coming, but she
never arrived.

Not alive, at least, if it were her.

She wanted money.

Left -bound income would be even more
miserable if another share had to come

of it.

I'll clean the stove tomorrow.

No, honestly.

A bachelor kitchen can only go so far
before it becomes quite unpleasant.

I remember the Browlow's eldest boy,
Cecil. Of course, he never married.

That's another matter.

You will one day, and I pity your wife,
Tom Campbell.

One day, perhaps.

What?

The eldest son.

The real prize is Rutherford Hall. That
would be worth killing for.

If it was discovered that Edmund had a
son, it would go to him.

The oldest son of the oldest son.

He's an unpleasant specimen, Alfred.

That would certainly give him a strong
motive, if the body is Martine.

I suppose it would.

Such a pity I can't meet the family.
I've got the, er, pathologist report for

you. Lovely.

Oh, do you know, you take it to bed with
me, don't you?

Nine -nine.

Halfway through chapter one and they
were off.

You too.

Yes.

Good night. Good night, Lucy.

We have, Mr. E .C. What's this?

Look, Dad.

It's a receipt for a dress or something
from Mrs. M.

Crackenthorpe. Impossible.

Who's Mrs. M.

Crackenthorpe?

Where did you find this?

Stuck in the holly bush.

Come on, have a look. The police should
see this.

All right, skedaddle, boys. Find me some
more clues.

You have to tell Dad now. I can't.

Well, let's get it out of the way before
Christmas. The way things are going,

we're all still going to be here.

Em, if it was Martine, then we are all
under suspicion.

Alfred has no alibi at all.

Harold has Alice, but she swore black
was white for him. And I'm lying to my

teeth, as you well know.

Then you're lying too, Em.

Brian didn't take you shopping on the
day of the murder.

Brian arrived by train.

I picked him up from Brackhampton
Station just before six o 'clock.

He asked me to.

And asked you to lie about it?

I should have told them first, I know.

Lucy says you're all so kind.

I did... I did promise her. Her mother.

I keep an eye on her.

Oh!

Is that a Gainsborough?

School of... Garthley.

Biscuit tin stuff.

Who's that other G?

Go, go.

Ah. Now you're talking. I'm afraid all
his yellow makes me rather bilious.

This is my brother, Cedric.

How do you do?

How do you do?

Of course, you and Gauguin have
something in common, don't you?

His talent flourished on an island.

Aunt Jane, what do you do, Mr.
Crackenthorpe?

Bit of this, bit of that.

And precious little of either, most of
the time.

My family had a Marple once.

Scullery made.

Interestingly enough, Lady Alice is from
a very old family. She's, um... What

does that mean?

We all come from old families.

And I know an Angus Marple.

Owns horses and a castle.

And if you know someone who knows
someone who owns horses and a castle,

laughing. My brother is.

Job for life with his father -in -law's
company.

Whatever it is you do there... Harold
has a very responsible position.

Doesn't pay just quite enough, though,
does it, Harry?

You get your bread buttered, but it's
spread, damn thing.

Alfred!

Money can be such a thing.

Hello, Tom.

On duty?

Yes. Meeting someone, you? Just
delivered twins. I have a very lovely

sometimes.

David... What do you make of Alfred
Crackenthorpe?

He's a wreck.

Why? Is he your suspect?

You know I can't answer that.

Emma says... you ask them all their
whereabouts between five and six.

Mm -hm.

Well...

I know where Alfred was. I saw him in
the king's head.

He didn't tell me that.

He was with old Terry, the bookie's
runner.

He'd hardly tell a policeman he was
doing a spot of illegal betting.

Now, would he?

Thank you, David.

So nice to meet you.

I'm sorry my father wasn't up to seeing
you. I quite understand.

Oh, I met your Dr. Quimper yesterday.
What a charming man.

My Dr. Quimper?

Your family.

Oh, yes.

Say, Lucy, aren't you going to introduce
me to your aunt?

We haven't time, Mr. Eastley.

Has he upset you? No. He's

very handsome, isn't he? In an American
sort of way, I suppose.

He's certainly very forward.

Thank you, Lucy.

What did you find out?

Enough for now.

What next?

Elspeth described the woman she saw
strangled with her hair scraped back

band.

Spunions, according to the pathologist,
and soles like leather.

And her toenails were clipped short.

So where exactly are we off to?

You remember little Elsie Elliot from
Church Lane who won a scholarship to

ballet school?

She showed me her feet once.

Our victim had dancer's feet.

And she travelled abroad.

And it's Christmas, Tom.

You could stay for dinner.

I've got a patient to visit.

You're still here?

I was just going.

Not changing, Frederick.

So?

Wish you could change, though. But
Harold does, too.

I've told Dad about Martine.

I don't think he'll be down.

I'm sorry.

I thought it was best, now that the
police know.

Well, good night, everyone.

Here, Doc.

Do you charge for a consultation?

Whatever it is, it's not enough.

Good evening, brood.

I wonder if another body will turn up.

I hope not.

I hope it won't be you.

I like you. Thank you.

Dad likes you, too.

I think what he needs is a proper home
life.

He needs looking after.

Smells good.

Sorry we won't be able to eat it. We
have to return James to his mother.

come back from abroad and seen the
papers.

Understandably, she wants him home.

Can't I stay? It's current. No, you
can't.

Keep James company.

Get your coat.

Mmm.

Looks good, too.

It's the onion.

Just go.

Oh,

no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no. This
is not cracker. Not a carnival of

animals. Oh, you look like a elephant.

Alors, regardez.

This perfect.

Be quiet, Marissa. Crack your nut.

Encore. Madame.

Ah.

10 minutes.

When I, um... When I telephoned you,
Madame Jolyer, you said that dancer

Anna Stravinska left after the
performance on December the 3rd.

And you've never seen her since?
Correct.

Our last night at Lelandton.

A modest venue, but a standing ovation.

The next night we opened in South Sea,
but Annie never arrived.

To be frank, she was getting on.

It's a short life as a dancer. If she
was a horse... She would be put out to

grass? No, no, Inspector.

I think you say the neck of the old.

Do you have any idea where Miss
Stravinska might be now?

Girls disappear.

Especially on tour.

It's not uncommon.

Perhaps she got herself into trouble. If
you understand.

A doctor in the back street.

But no.

No, not with Anna. That's not likely.

She's a very good Catholic. I'm sorry, I
can't help you. Catholic?

From Russia?

Russia?

Oh, her name.

No, no, no, no. That's a fashion with
ballet dancers.

Anna is French.

Do you know her real name?

No.

She had an English husband, she told me.

Had?

Is he still alive?

All I know is she is no longer with him.

Where did they marry?

London, I believe.

And did they have a son, madame?

Impossible.

One cannot have a child and dance.

How was the curry?

Excellent. Thank you.

There's nothing like plain, simple
cooking, is there?

I'll cancel our reservation at the
Savoy, then, shall I? Harold! Stop

I thought the curry was delicious.

It was certainly hot, Miss Aylsborough.

After you with the water. May I have
some, too? I'll fetch some more.

Dad, please don't be upset.

Why not?

I just found out that I've got a
grandson I've never seen and his poor

body ends up on my ground. Shouldn't I
be upset?

Oh, I seriously think you're joining
her.

Perhaps grief would unite you.

Or joy.

For God's sake, shut up.

You're so bloody boring, Father.

Sit down!

Dad! You're just as bad.

I used to think I could trust you.

Of course you can.

Can I?

Who hid the letter from me?

That! Mr.

Husker! The gallery!

Dr. Quinthorpe, I've left the light on.

You will close the door behind you? Yes,
of course.

How are they?

Well, they're all sound asleep.

Probably best for them.

I'll be in, personally, just to make
sure.

Good night.

Yes, good night, Miss Harlsborough.

That was Alfred.

I think it was arsenic.

It's unpredictable.

Even in small doses, if his system was
weak.

Alfred did drink more in a month than
most of us manage in sex.

How sure are you?

Well, I kept back some of the Tarleton
fuel lamp boys. They're the experts.

I dropped it off at the police station.

Thank you, David.

You're next in line now.

Until Harold gets it.

And then it'll be all mine.

Stay here.

What happened?

Alfred's dead.

Lucy! What's the matter?

You're not serious.

You were in the kitchen when I was
cooking. You made sure Alexander went

you when you took James back to his
mother. Why would I want to kill Alfred?

Or anyone, for that matter.

Why would you lie about where you were
the day Martine was murdered?

You didn't drive here and take Emma
shopping.

You came by train and then met her after
the shops were shut.

How do you know that?

I keep my ears open, Brian.

Did you include spying on your resume
when you applied for this post?

In any case, I couldn't have killed
Martine.

Why not?

I can't say.

It would mean breaking her confidence.

How convenient.

You know what? Have it your own way,
then.

What about the others?

Is any of them seriously ill?

No, they didn't need hospital.

Unpleasant, though.

Quimper thinks it was probably arsenic.
You don't come with a curry to tear.

Miss Marple, I have to get to... Why
would the whole

family be poisoned?

To kill off the weakest member, Alfred.

Quimper said he was a physical wreck.

One of the family was prepared to poison
himself in order to get his hands on

his inheritance.

Or the murderer meant to poison Luther
but killed Alfred instead.

Pardon me.

Lucy's sure she never left the kitchen.

Only four people, apart from Alexander,
came in.

Mr. Eastley was first.

Mmm.

Looks good, too.

Then Cedric appeared.

Shall I put some of this in?

Food curry. A blue curry. So avant
-garde.

She's not sure how long Harold was
there, but... I thought it was long

Any one of them could have poisoned the
food.

Even Alfred himself came in and
propositioned her.

Do you fancy a smart weekend away
sometime?

I'm getting my hands on a nice little
bit of casting.

No, thank you.

If you change your mind... Watch your
head, Mr. Cranthorpe.

Low -flying pig.

Interesting.

Perhaps Alfred was the poisoner, but his
plan backfired.

Mr. Easley left before dinner and
wouldn't let Alexander stay behind.

Yes, but he wouldn't benefit.

Alexander's inheritance would be tied up
until he came of age.

Harold's got most to gain.

The house, as well as his share of the
Crackathorpe Trust Fund.

Harold must be our main suspect now,
Miss Marple.

Tom? What?

Calamine lotion was a long time ago.

My name is Jane.

I'll try.

Sorry.

Are we sure Anna Stravinska and Martine
were one and the same person?

Anna was French.

She had an English husband.

She disappeared at the right time.

And then, as that, received a boyfriend.

It'd be quite possible it was Anna
Stravinska in the mausoleum.

The same as being certain, is it?

I can't stand it here any longer. Don't
leave me here, please. Well, come then.

I'm still not feeling well enough.

Don't make a drama out of it, Alice. Dr.
Crimper says you're fine now.

That's what he said about Alfred, wasn't
it?

Yes, Mr Crackenthorpe. Oh, call me
Harry.

Are you a good comforter, Lucy?

My poor brother.

I have to get on. Yes, we all have to
get on, don't we? That's why I married

Alice. But there are some things that
you just can't... With one's wife, I

Do you see?

You are so unspoiled, my dear.

So lovely.

Come on.

April!

Get out.

There's something you need to know about
Harold.

When Edmund brought his new bride
back... Thank you very much.

Harold just couldn't help himself.

He was so jealous of his brother's
happiness.

I mean, I wasn't sure at the time. She
told me when we met again after Edmund's

death.

I'm the only one who knows.

You still haven't told me why you lied.

Which train were you on?

Which train?

I don't know.

Why can't you trust me?

I want to.

Yeah, but you try harder then, can't
you?

He didn't say how long he kept in touch
with Martine, just that he met her again

after Edmund's death.

Thank you, Lucy.

Alexander's chum, James. What's his
surname?

It's a cheat, really. Size of a glove.

Easier than cricket by a long chalk.

You might tell me what we're waiting
for.

What have you found out?

Information which Mr. Easley should have
volunteered but didn't for some reason.

Perhaps he lacks confidence in
Breckhampton CID.

Huh? Well, your chief suspect for a
murder gets murdered himself under your

for a start. Under your nose, to be
strictly accurate.

Don't start blaming me.

You questioned Harold again.

Why? I'd have thought it was obvious.

He killed Martine to stop her telling
the rest of the family what he tried to

to her all those years ago.

And without a doubt of the way, he
stands to inherit Rutherford Hall.

I'd keep a round -the -clock guard on
Luther if I were you.

We don't quite stretch to round -the
-clock guards.

I'd feel safer.

Has that occurred to you?

You don't have to stay.

I thought you needed all the help you
can get.

We may not be the FBI, but we always get
our man.

That's the man, Dean. Or our woman.

Not this one.

I didn't mean that.

I hope not.

Here they are.

They should make things a little
clearer.

Jane! Martin,

what are you doing here?

Why?

Good afternoon, Mr. Eastley. We weren't
properly introduced, were we?

Lady Stoddard -West has kindly agreed to
clarify a few matters.

I never ever thought I would set foot
here again.

Let's go in, Martine.

Brian and Edith were so kind to me after
I lost Edmund.

I kept no contact with the rest of the
family.

The memories were painful.

But they stayed in touch, and when Edith
died, we became even closer.

I moved far away when I married my
present husband, Lord Stoddart West.

But my son James stays often with
Alexander for the holidays.

Why didn't you tell me this, Brian?

I made him promise not to tell anyone
about me. I swore I would never come

again. But when James told me what was
going on... Yeah, I was going to call

you, Martine, but then with the second
murder, I just... Just as well, Miss

Mapple telephoned me. I was not sure,
but when I heard James spoke

impeccable French and that you'd met
Edmund's widow after his death, I was

right.

Lady Stoddard West is alive and well.

Luckily.

Alfred shot me in there once, when I was
six.

I still dream about it, actually.

A psychiatrist might say that's what
made you a very unpleasant man.

I beg your pardon?

But I'm a policeman.

Martine was here.

Martine?

Then the body wasn't her.

I know what you did to her.

It's pretty disgusting.

Your brother's wife and him about to go
off and die for his country?

Yes.

They were so happy, so simply happy,
like Mum and Dad.

I've never been able to like women.

I may be disgusting, but I'm not a
murderer.

No.

Harold! I want you!

We're leaving!

Does she know?

No.

Take this man home.

Inspector?

Well, the victim wasn't Martine, so
Harold's in the clear.

She must be Anna Stravinska. But even if
we know who she was, we don't know who

she was, do we?

Sorry, do go on.

Has Mr Eastley explained to you where he
was on the 4th or why he got Emma to

cover up for him?

Was he on the same train as the victim?

Brian couldn't kill. Even war heroes
have been known to go off the rails.

about Cedric, Inspector?

Have you checked on his alibi?

That he arrived back from Ibiza the day
after the murder?

I was intending to check the stamps on
his passport.

That's a very sound idea.

Thank you, Jane.

Though I always think it best not to
alert a suspect until one has the

possible basis for one's questions.

Hmm. Me too.

It could have come to me.

That's what Emma said.

I'd have understood.

Would you?

No.

But I'll try.

I have to now.

Is that the overseas operator?

Oh, how exciting.

Yes, it's a number in Ceylon.

You don't think I'll call up and resign
because I said there's always another

murder in books, do you?

No, Alexander, I don't.

Well, I expect you to have got heaps to
discuss.

Goodbye.

My subtle son.

He thinks you need a proper home life.

Look, um... The day of the murder.

Yeah.

Well, I was in London with the bank
manager.

Went a hell of a mess with school fees
and... Well, pretty much everything as

regards money.

I was going crazy about it all. Took my
eye off the road, shot a red light and

crunched the car.

Not serious, but I had to get the train
here.

Emma picked me up. I didn't want
Alexander getting wind of it.

Oh. So, which train were you on?

What did your shrink say about your
train complex?

I don't recall. I got into Brackhampton
just before six.

I'll get you a train timetable for
Christmas.

Gift -wrapped.

Brian, I'm sorry, I... It's okay.

You're still special and beautiful.

So, and, uh... I'm falling in love with
you.

But that'll keep.

Yes, Miss Marple.

Some more information?

Yes. Let me guess.

Timetables, maps, parallel railway
tracks.

I'm a... No.

You don't come in. You don't have to
come in, no.

I hope you won't think this offensive,
but I have tickets for North Cabaret

opening tonight.

There'll be a party and, well, it might
take all our minds off things.

How did you get them?

I worked for Mr Coward, very briefly.

I'm not sure.

How many did you get? Six. My aunt, of
course, and I asked your father.

But he suggested you invite Dr. Quimper
instead.

Did he?

Well, I could see, I suppose.

I suppose I might as well confess.

Confess?

I didn't fly in the day after the
murder. It was the day before.

So you don't have an alibi?

Oh, I do.

I rather over -egged my success as an
artist.

I haven't sold anything for over two
years.

And I'm not very good in the sun.

One can't be pale and interesting any
better.

Especially if one's not interesting.

Oh, Cedric, dear.

At the same time that woman was meeting
her gritty end, I was in London, sitting

the civil service entrance exam.

Sadly, though... Don't say it.

You flunked that, too.

Oh, no.

Much worse.

I passed top.

I was pushing a pen in Whitehall now,
instead of...

Flourishing a brush in the Balearics.

Poor Dad's heartbroken.

Oh.

Congratulations, Miss Crackenthal.

Mum was supposed to be the word, Miss
Marvel.

Oh, yes.

David and I are engaged.

It's good for you.

Finally. How refreshingly patient of
you, Doctor.

People do rush into things so, don't
they?

Did you make those sandwiches with me?

Yes. Fish paste.

I hope you went easy on me after.

I'm David.

Well,

don't be so silly, everyone.

Grumptious.

Miss Marple?

Let me see.

Excuse me.

Whoops.

Panic. It's all right. Breathe normally.

Breathe normally.

David Quimper, I'm arresting you for the
murder of Alfred Crackenthorpe and of

Suzanne Belain, also known as Anna
Stravinska, your wife.

David?

It's not true.

You were married in London on April the
10th, 1939, at St Luke's Church,

Marleybourne. She was training to be a
dancer. You had your practice in Camden

Town. You separated before you moved to
Brackhampton, but she was a good

Catholic and she wouldn't agree to a
divorce.

It wasn't patience that kept you from
asking Miss Crackenthorpe to marry you.

You had to choose between bigamy and
murder.

You silly old woman.

I'd like to seek a second opinion on
that, Doctor.

Oh, you brute.

Oh, yes.

That is the man I saw from the 450 from
Paddington on December the 4th

strangling a poor terrified woman to
death.

No.

Come on, David.

did it for us.

Budge up.

Elsbeth McGillicuddy. How was your
flight?

Only for you, Jane.

Well, then.

I am so very sorry.

I have to know.

I imagine it was money she wanted when
she contacted him.

Her career was coming to an end, after
all.

Or perhaps she hoped for a
reconciliation.

Whatever the reason, he made his plans
and invited her down to talk things

Then he pushed her out.

Later, knowing the family were inside,
remembering Agnes, he took the body to

the mausoleum.

He knew it would be discovered
eventually, which is why he sent that

supposedly from Martine, that Bishan
would fall on the family, not him.

Then why try to give Alfred an alibi?

Telling Inspector Campbell he saw him at
the king's head at the time of the

murder. He was really giving himself an
alibi.

He knew Alfred would be dead by the time
Tom checked up. You mean it was Alfred

he meant to kill when he poisoned us,
not Dad?

Oh, yes.

He had the greatest respect for both
your parents.

And he would have waited for you however
long your father lived.

Why kill Alfred?

I believe Alfred was blackmailing him.

He'd seen something which only made
sense later.

He'd seen him plant the receipt he'd
written with Martine's name on it.

A clue for the boys to find, now that
the body had been discovered earlier

he had anticipated.

Where did you find this?

Stuck in the holly bush.

He said he was expecting money when he
came into the... I'm getting my hands on

a nice little bit of cash soon.

But Quimper was never in the kitchen.

How did he get the arsenic into the
curry?

He didn't. The police laboratory tested
it.

He added the arsenic to the sample he
took before he gave it to the police.

I'm just going. It was the cocktail he
poisoned with just enough to make

everyone unpleasantly ill so that he
could administer the lethal dose to

He couldn't have. I was there. I heard
Alfred shouting for him. You heard

shouting at him.

It's of no comfort.

But it was a crime born of love.

It's only love that matters.

Have you booked your flight back?

I'll not bother. It's all a bit sticky.

Oh, how was Roddy? Thriving. I met his
new lady friend.

She was a decent sort.

There's a girl who's spoilt for choice.

There's a girl who travels alone.

I'll take your bag.

There's no need. I can manage that, Mr
Eastley.

Alexander said you need to be looking
after her.

I guess I do.

Then I... I hope you find someone,
Brian.

Truly.

But I'm not always right.

Happy Christmas.

Jane. Tom.