Original subtitles

Your tea, Miss Marple.

Thank you, dear.

A very pleasant young man.

Rudi?

Hmm. For a foreigner, I suppose.

Archie.

There's going to be a murder.

Bloody man Nehru is too clever by half. That's his trouble.

Jolly good.

I said, there's going to be a murder.

What time?

Seven o'clock this evening.

Short notice.

A murder?

Hinch!

- Hinch!

Hinch!

What is it, Murgatroyd?

- Where are you? - Hen house!

Listen to this! In the Gazette.

"A murder is announced and will take place on Friday, October 5th,

"at Little Paddocks at 7:00 p.m."

That's this evening.

"Friends, please accept this, the only intimation."

Daft.

What do you think it means?

It means a drink.

Bad sherry, probably.

People don't announce murders. Marriages, yes, but not murders.

Put that dreadful paper down and have a look.

It isn't a dreadful paper.

You're not even a worker.

- I'm writing a book. - I mean, real work.

Well, it's some sort of party, I expect.

Aren't there some rather boring, bright young things staying at Little Paddocks?

They'll pin pieces of paper on you and then draw lots.

And somebody's the victim and somebody's the detective.

Then they turn out the lights and everybody screams.

Bourgeois escapism, Mother. The opium of the people.

"Friends, accept this, the only intimation."

- Sounds very exciting. - It sounds extremely tedious.

Nonsense, Edmund. I'm going and you're coming with me.

Opium? Surely there won't be opium.

- Morning. - Morning, ma'am.

- Oh, good morning. - Good morning.

MRS. HARMON: A murder! Isn't it scrumptious?

REVEREND HARMON: What time did you say it was?

- 7:00? - Yes. At Little Paddocks.

I have a confirmation class.

Oh, what a shame! And you do so love a good murder.

- May I see? - Mmm, yes, it's there.

In amongst the second-hand pianos, and gold teeth and Cocker Spaniels.

It really is an extraordinary announcement!

And so uncharacteristic of Miss Blacklock.

Patrick, is this your doing?

No, indeed, Aunt Letty.

Whatever gives you that idea?

I thought it might be your idea of a joke.

I can think of much better jokes than announcing murders in the local rag.

Julia?

Of course not.

Do you think that Mrs. Haymes...

I don't think our Phillipa would try to be funny.

She finds it difficult enough being serious.

Or anything.

It's obviously some sort of silly hoax.

MISS BUNNER: Buy why?

It's very stupid.

And in very bad taste.

Bunny, there's nothing to get worked up about.

It's obviously somebody's idea of humor.

But it says today.

Today at seven o'clock.

What do you think is going to happen?

PATRICK: Easy.

The Angel of Death will spread his wings on the blast.

I'll tell you exactly what's going to happen.

At seven o'clock this evening, half the village of Chipping Cleghorn

will be banging on the door agog with curiosity.

Guess I'd better go and see if there's any sherry in the house.

Poor Lotty, she's so worried.

Two words, five letters and six letters.

Terminal stiffening of sinews.

Rigor mortis.

Of course.

Good old rigor mortis.

I wish you wouldn't talk about things like that.

Oh, Hannah, we shall need a bottle of sherry for this evening.

I'm expecting visitors.

I will not be here this evening, Miss Blacklock.

- What do you mean? - I am giving you my notices.

There is no need to give notice.

There is need, Miss Blacklock. In the newspaper.

They are coming to kill me.

Nobody is coming to kill anybody. It's just a joke.

Murdering people is a joke? In England, everything is a joke.

In Europe, killing people is not a joke. That is why I escaped.

I promise you, my dear, you are perfectly safe.

You promise?

If somebody was going to murder you,

they'd hardly advertise the fact in the newspaper?

Perhaps, in England they would,

but perhaps it is you they mean to murder, Miss Blacklock.

You've had the central heating lit, Aunt Letty.

The whole house felt clammy.

Our precious, precious coke?

Well, it was either that or our even more precious coal.

I can remember when there was plenty of coal,

plenty of coke, plenty of everything.

Was this in the olden days?

Oh, yes, my dear.

Hello.

Is there a party?

Welcome to the scene of the crime.

Is it a joke? I'm very stupid when it comes to jokes.

Indeed.

There is to be a murder in this room in about quarter of an hour.

Here, you see the funeral wreaths,

and here, the funeral supper.

I don't understand.

JULIA: Read this. - I was explaining.

It'll be quicker and quieter if she reads it for herself.

MISS BLACKLOCK: I must go and lock up the ducks.

PATRICK: Hmm, I'll do it.

Certainly not. Last time you did it you didn't put the latch down properly.

I've read what it says, but I still don't understand.

Nor do we.

Great fun, isn't it?

You don't really think anyone will come, do you?

I shouldn't think so.

Village people are very inquisitive, you know.

Well, I know for a fact,

there's a brand-new bottle of sherry on the premises,

so that won't go to waste, whatever happens.

Shall I fetch it, to be on the safe side?

I think Letty wanted you to move that table into the bay.

Work, work, work. Will it never cease?

Oh, thank you, Patrick.

And when you've done that, would you be very kind and fetch...

And fetch the new bottle of sherry from the pantry?

My pleasure.

Yes. That's better.

JULIA: How is that better?

Well, we are prepared for guests,

but we don't look as if we are expecting guests.

And we all give a lovely performance of a quiet evening at home,

and put on looks of total astonishment if anybody drops in.

- Precisely. - I do hope nobody drops in.

Somebody at the door.

Mr. and Mrs. Borgia from along the road.

They've brought their own bottle.

Patrick, do you think you could make a huge effort and behave yourself?

I'll make a huge effort, and we'll see what happens.

Here is Colonel Easterbrook and Mrs. Easterbrook to see you.

MISS BLACKLOCK: Thank you, Hannah.

What a lovely surprise!

- Well, good evening. - Evening.

Good evening.

Happened to be passing. Quite a mild evening.

- Central heating on? - The whole house felt clammy.

Well...

Lovely chrysanthemums.

A bit scraggy, in my opinion.

We haven't started ours yet.

Your chrysanthemums?

Central heating.

Miss Murgatroyd and Miss Hinchcliffe.

MISS HINCHCLIFFE: Evening. MISS BLACKLOCK: Oh, thank you, Hannah.

Evening. Good evening, Miss Blacklock.

Good evening.

Such a lovely evening, we came out for a stroll.

I said to Murgatroyd,

"Why don't we pop in at Little Paddocks, and see how the ducks are laying?"

It's lovely and warm in here. Have you got the heating on already?

Yes. I'm told the house felt clammy.

MISS MURGATROYD: Hmm.

Well, this is jolly nice, isn't it?

Bang on.

Bang on? Is that what they say nowadays?

I'm afraid so, Colonel.

Mrs. Swettenham and Master Swettenham.

- Here we are. - Indeed we are.

I just popped in to see whether you might be interested in a kitten.

- A kitten.

Our cat is just about to, um...

Be blessed with issue.

Father unknown, but probably various.

The result will certainly be a monster.

MRS. SWETTENHAM: Edmund.

Do sit down, Mrs. Swettenham.

EDMUND: It's jolly warm in here.

MISS BUNNER: We put the central heating on.

COLONEL EASTERBROOK: It seems the house was a bit clammy.

Bet you never had that trouble in India, Colonel.

The odd flood during the monsoon. No clamminess to speak of.

HANNAH: Mrs. Harmon.

- Hello, everyone. - Hello, Mrs. Harmon.

- Hello, Miss Blacklock. - Hello, Mrs. Harmon.

I'm not too late, am I?

When does the murder begin?

- No. You're not too late. - Everybody's still intact.

Oh!

Julian is simply frantic with rage he can't be here.

- He adores murders.

He writes some of his best sermons when he's in the middle of a good thriller.

You know, with four or five decent corpses littered about the place.

Oh, sorry, I'm talking too much.

No, no, you're not.

When is the murder going to begin?

Well, if it's going to begin, it ought to happen soon.

It's just one minute to 7:00.

Well, time to pour the sherry, I think.

- Patrick? - Yes.

Oh, Phillipa, be a dear.

What do you mean "if"?

Oh, I've really no idea. I know no more about it than you do.

Oh!

Well, now. Yes, perhaps a cigarette.

- It's beginning.

MISS BUNNER: I don't like it.

MRS. EASTERBROOK: Archie, Archie, where are you?

COLONEL EASTERBROOK: I'm here, dear. MRS. EASTERBROOK: Where's here?

- Now! - I'm so sorry, so sorry.

- Oh, please put the...

Stick 'em up! Stick 'em up, I tell you!

MRS. HARMON: Isn't it wonderful?

JULIA: I must say it's quite impressive so far.

Lights!

Somebody switch the lights on.

PATRICK: Anybody got matches or a lighter?

- Yes, I have. - Archie! Take me home!

Try the switches, Swettenham.

EDMUND: They're off at the mains. - (KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Or a fuse.

Just get some candles, Patrick.

- Excuse me. - On my way.

- That's Hannah screaming.

Fellow seems to have knocked himself out.

Serves him right.

- She's locked in.

I was cleaning the silver and a man locked me in.

And then I heard shooting.

...Now, stop it!

Get the candles. They're in the kitchen cupboard.

- Miss Blacklock! - Letty! You're bleeding!

- Something grazed my ear, that's all. - Oh, Letty, he must have hit you!

- It's nothing to make a fuss about. - There's blood all over you.

Ears bleed. Everybody knows that.

Patrick! Where are those candles?

- We can't do anything without... Ah! - Phillipa's mending the fuse.

Oh, thank goodness somebody's efficient in this house.

Better take a closer look at the fellow.

Good God!

- What is it? - The man's dead.

It was just the one fuse gone. Oh!

Better see who it is.

Anyone know him?

- Never seen him in my life. - Nor me.

- He looks so young. - Do you think he shot himself?

Could have been an accident, if he tripped over that cloak thing.

I know him.

You do?

Letty!

It's that young man from the Spa Hotel at Medenham Wells.

The one who came asking you for money.

So it is.

He might have killed you.

He came here to kill you, Letty! He did, I know...

Phillipa, take Bunny into the dining room and give her some brandy.

Julia, run upstairs to the bathroom and get some sticking plasters.

My blood seems to be upsetting everybody.

Patrick, ring for the police.

Rudi Scherz. Swiss nationality.

Employed here as a receptionist.

Yes, this is he.

How long had he been working for you, Mr. Rowlandson?

I took the liberty of checking in my files before you arrived.

A little over three months.

Good credentials, references, permits, et cetera.

Uh, would you like to have a look at these?

I'll take your word.

Ah.

Was he satisfactory?

Um, quite satisfactory, Inspector.

That sounds to me like a negative judgment.

- It's purely conjectural. - What is?

Well, there were a couple of misunderstandings about the bills.

Items charged that oughtn't to have been.

We assumed it was carelessness, inexperience.

But it wasn't?

Well, you're now telling me that he was some sort of criminal.

So I suppose he could have been trying to cheat our customers.

But it's still different from an armed hold-up.

Any women in his life?

One of our waitresses.

Name?

Myrna Harris.

You were friendly with Rudi Scherz?

I didn't know what he was like when...

We don't know what he was like.

I want you to help me find out.

Well...

You always think that anybody that works on reception is bound to be all right.

I mean, they're very careful when they employ people, especially foreigners.

Was he with a gang?

We think he was working on his own.

He was a lovely dancer.

Nice to go out with.

Best seats at the pictures and bought you flowers.

And I'm sorry he's dead.

Um...

Oh...

Thanks.

Stuff's been going missing, you know.

What sort of stuff?

From rooms.

A diamond broach I think, and, um, a little gold locket.

Might not have been him.

Might have been me.

But it wasn't.

You liked him.

Yeah.

He talked big, mind you.

But I got used to that during the war.

The Poles were bad enough. The Americans were even worse.

How did he compare to the Poles and the Americans?

He talked as big.

Said he came from a rich family in Switzerland.

Only he couldn't get his money here on account of the currency regulations.

That's what he said.

He didn't wear rich clothes.

Very ordinary. Not real class, you know?

I know.

And he'd saved all kinds of people from certain death in the Alps.

I didn't believe that either.

Did he ever mention Miss Blacklock?

No, I don't think so.

She sometimes comes here for lunch,

so he might have met her but...

Did he ever mention the village of Chipping Cleghorn?

I think he asked me about the buses once.

What time they went.

But I'm not sure if it was Chipping Cleghorn.

Might have been some other Chipping.

There's a lot around here.

I wouldn't have gone out with him if I'd known he was a crook.

But I'm still sorry he's dead.

Ooh, good morning, Inspector Craddock.

- You've checked the house, Fletcher? - Sir.

No fingerprints. No signs of forced entry.

But the doors seem to be left unlocked most of the time anyway.

Scherz seems to have come from Medenham on the bus.

It arrives in Chipping Cleghorn at 6:30.

Why did the lights go out?

Well, the drawing room and the hall seem to be on the same circuit.

If you can organize for them to fuse at exactly seven o'clock.

"You're a better man that I am, Gunga Din."

As you might say, sir.

Tell me about the people who live here. Miss Blacklock?

I think she's all right, sir.

Miss Bunner, is it?

Nice woman, sir, but with respect, a bit scatty.

Patrick Simmons?

Fancies himself as a joker.

Julia Simmons?

Just fancies herself.

Phillipa Haymes?

I haven't met her yet, sir. Out at work all day.

Good.

Pretty garden.

This is the room in which the incident occurred?

Yes.

But we've tidied up, of course. Such a mess.

Tables knocked over, people barging about in the dark,

and a nasty cigarette burn.

But that seems to happen all the time these days.

Bunny, Bunny, I think we should just answer Inspector Craddock's questions.

Thank you, Miss Blacklock.

Tell me when you first saw Rudi Scherz.

- Is that his name? - Yes.

Oh, it was about three weeks ago.

We went shopping for the day in Medenham Spa.

We had lunch at the hotel.

He came over to our table

and said that he was the son of the proprietor

of the Hotel des Alpes in Montreux,

where my sister and I stayed during the war.

- Did you remember him? - Oh, no.

I mean all these boys at reception desks look exactly the same.

And then he came to see you?

Yes. 10 days ago.

Well, he...

He had some absurd story about his mother being dangerously ill

and needing the money to get back to Switzerland.

You didn't give him any money?

- Certainly not. - Very wise.

I was secretary to a financier for many years.

I know all about hard-luck stories and appeals for money.

When he came here, did you sense that he might have been

spying out the land, so to speak?

You mean, casing the joint?

Yes, that's what I mean, Miss Bunner.

Yes, it is quite possible.

I remember he took a keen interest in the house.

Oh, but all that elaborate nonsense.

The advertisement in the newspaper.

I just really don't understand any of it.

Do you keep much money in the house?

No, a few pounds, no more.

Jewelry?

Couple of rings and broaches. These cameos.

There's really nothing worth stealing. It was revenge, Inspector.

Letty refused to give him the money and he came here to kill her.

That's where he shot at you, Miss Blacklock?

Oh, just a scratch.

Made a lot of blood, but it...

Tell me what happened.

- Well, the clock struck. - Seven o'clock.

- Yes. - And then the lights went out.

- And next? - The door opened.

- Which door? - That door.

- What about that door? - Oh, no, no, that one's never used.

That's just a hangover from when this was two rooms.

So, this door opened,

and...

Well... Well, there he was. A man with a revolver.

A masked man with a revolver.

And I thought...

Well, I mean, we all thought, that it was just some silly joke.

And then he said something.

"Hands up or I shoot!"

Well, something like that.

- Did you put your hands up? - Oh, yes.

It seemed like part of the game.

He shone his flashlight in my eyes. It dazzled me.

I began to get annoyed about it.

- And then? - Ah...

Well, then, there was the first shot.

Somebody screamed, I think.

And then I... Yes, I felt the pain in my ear.

You see? It wasn't just a scratch.

Where were you standing, Miss Blacklock?

Over here, by the table.

I was reaching for the cigarette box.

And look! There are the bullet holes!

He was trying to kill you.

You tell her, Inspector, she won't believe me.

And having failed to shoot you in the darkness,

he then turns the gun on himself?

Obviously.

Do you think it's obvious, Miss Blacklock?

No, of course I don't, Inspector. I think it's absolutely ludicrous.

He wasn't the sort of man to shoot himself

- or anyone else for that matter.

Oh, Bunny, will you please take those away?

I hate dead flowers.

I picked them fresh yesterday.

Even flowers don't last the way they used to.

- Is Miss Bunner a relation of yours? - No. An old friend.

We were at school together,

about a hundred years ago.

A companion.

We keep each other company, Inspector.

And the other people who live here.?

Patrick and Julia.

They call me Aunt Letty, but they're actually distant cousins.

Oh. Sorry.

Aunt Dora's wandering around saying

the police want to cross-examine everyone, is that so?

This is Julia.

Since you're kind enough to volunteer, Miss Simmons.

Inspector Craddock, and this is Sergeant Fletcher.

We've met.

Have you finished with me for now, Inspector?

I think so, Miss Blacklock.

Oh, will you be speaking to Hannah?

- Hannah is? - My cook.

She screams a lot.

The poor girl is a refugee.

Nationality?

I asked her that.

She said, "I do not know,

"I have not read the papers today."

Please don't be prejudiced against her, Inspector,

just because she tells lies.

There are a lot of atrocity stories around now,

but I think there is a real core of truth in some of hers.

I can't help feeling sorry for her.

And she is a very good cook.

When she feels like it.

I shall bear all that in mind, Miss Blacklock.

Thank you.

Would you like to tell me about last night?

I told your Sergeant Fletcher.

- He wrote it all down. - I'd like you to tell me.

Well, a lot of tiresome people called round.

- Who? - In order of arrival?

Colonel and Mrs. Easterbrook,

Miss Hinchcliffe and Miss Murgatroyd,

Mrs. Swettenham and Edmund Swettenham,

and Mrs. Harmon, the vicar's wife.

They all said the same things.

"What lovely chrysanthemums and I see you've got your central heating on."

Except Mrs. Harmon.

She said what everyone else was thinking.

"What time's the murder?"

You like Mrs. Harmon?

She's the best of the bunch.

And then?

The lights went out and this man walked in and said,

"Stick 'em up, you guys," or something equally ridiculous.

Then the shooting started.

It wasn't ridiculous anymore.

Was the only light from the man's torch?

Yes.

And from what you could see,

when he fired the shots, was he aiming at Miss Blacklock?

From what I could see, I shouldn't think so.

A revolver in one hand, a torch in the other,

having to keep that silly door open, everybody all over the place

he'd do well to hit anyone.

If he really wanted to take a pot shot at Aunt Letty,

I can think of a thousand better ways of doing it.

Stand behind a hedge, anywhere round the village, and do it.

Bang. Like that.

Understood.

But to fill the room with all the friends and neighbors,

put that silly advertisement in the newspaper,

it's more like a student rag.

You're a student, I believe, Miss Simmons.

I'm training as a dispenser at Milchester General Hospital.

But if I'd planned last night as a joke,

I wouldn't have filled the room with colonels and vicar's wives.

And if you were planning a murder?

I'm a dispenser.

I'd mix a lethal potion.

Quick and clean and quiet.

Oh.

Should I make a note of that?

Better not,

in case anyone else pops off in suspicious circumstances.

- Is your brother at home? - No. He went out somewhere.

He's a student too, did you know?

Really?

Milchester University, reading engineering.

Occasionally.

He's a bit of a waster.

But I like him, considering he's my brother.

And I believe he was quite heroic during the war.

I might have a word with Hannah in that case.

Crazy foreign cook?

An obvious suspect, Inspector.

All my life I am pursued by men in uniform.

I escape to England thinking I will be safe.

Still I am pursued by men in uniform.

- We're not here to arrest you. - You're not?

I just want to know your version of what happened last night.

Last night?

I see the announcement in the paper

and I know I am going to be murdered.

I try to leave, but she will not let me. She is a very strong woman.

Miss Blacklock?

Yes. The others are silly, but she is strong.

You stayed and then what?

The doorbell rings, I answer the door.

The doorbell rings again, I answer the door again.

After the people had arrived.

Oh.

I go to the dining room to clean the silver.

I hear shots. I scream.

I try the door. It is locked.

I scream again.

Somebody turns the key and lets me out.

I scream again. Somebody hits me. I see blood.

You scream again?

I think so.

Are you going to arrest me?

Not today.

Gosh! Am I too late for the sleuths?

Mr. Patrick Simmons?

Am I under suspicion?

Well, there is a feeling that placing the advertisement in the newspaper

was your style of joke.

It is the sort of thing I go in for.

Habitually?

Occasionally.

At some point we'd like your version of what happened last night.

It'll be as confused and contradictory as everybody else's.

In that case, perhaps you'll let us know where we'll find Mrs. Haymes?

Our Phillipa?

She works at Dayas Hall. Assistant gardener.

I know it, sir. Along the road to the left.

Phillipa doesn't say much.

She's nice in an anonymous sort of way.

Not the murdering kind.

But then, nobody is.

Somebody must be.

Unless the fellow shot himself.

Peculiar way to commit suicide.

Equally peculiar way to commit murder.

So, what is your conclusion?

It's easier being an engineering student than an ace detective.

You arrived home at what time last night?

About 6:00.

I had a bath, got changed, then found some sort of party was about to happen.

And when you arrived home, which door did you use?

The side door. I'm generally a bit mucky, so I never use the front door.

Was the door unlocked?

Yes, I locked it when I came in.

I see.

Tell me about the, uh, hold-up.

The lights went out exactly as the clock was striking 7:00.

The door opened and this man shone a torch on us

and flourished a revolver and told us to put our hands up.

Which you did?

No, I didn't actually.

I thought it was just fun.

And I'd been working all day, so I thought,

"Bother it, I'm not putting my hands up."

You were bored by the whole thing?

Yes, I was rather.

Where were you standing?

By the mantelpiece. I was looking for my lighter.

When the man shone the torch around the room,

did you get the sense that he was looking for somebody?

No.

He wasn't looking for anybody?

Thinking about it since it happened,

he did it in a vague sort of way, just waved the torch about aimlessly,

as if he hadn't the faintest idea what he was there for.

When you saw the body, did you know the man?

No.

But then, I can't really afford to eat at the Royal Spa Hotel.

That being so, presumably you don't keep any valuable jewelry at the house?

I wish I could.

There's my engagement ring and a couple of broaches.

Are you aware of anything valuable in the house?

Not what you'd call loot.

Some quite nice silver, but nothing out of the ordinary.

Miss Blacklock likes to wear her strings of pearls.

But they're just costume.

I'm sorry to be so unhelpful.

Patrick says I'm too sensible for my own good.

It's not a bad thing, being sensible, Mrs. Haymes.

And he stood there.

A shadowy figure with a revolver.

And that blinding torchlight sweeping around the room.

And he said,

"Your money or your life."

He didn't say anything of the sort, Mother.

I've never enjoyed myself so much for years.

Until the bullets started.

Then it was quite dreadful.

Do you know where you were standing, when this happened?

I've no idea. Where was I standing, Edmund?

I don't know.

Do you remember who you were speaking to?

Either Mrs. Harmon or Colonel Easterbrook, I think.

Edmund?

I haven't the faintest idea.

Do you remember who you were speaking to?

I was in the middle of the room, talking to Julia Simmons.

When the man shone the torch, did he hold it still or move it around?

It was right in my eyes for ages.

I couldn't see a thing.

He moved it around slowly, so as to see what we were all doing.

Three shots were fired. Two of them hit the wall,

one of them injuring Miss Blacklock en route.

The third killed the intruder.

Do you think it was suicide or an accident?

It certainly seemed to me like one of those.

Though I did say to Edmund, it felt more like murder.

Except that doesn't really make sense, does it?

You've just told the Inspector, that it was all three.

- Don't be silly. - Murder, suicide and an accident.

I'm simply trying to be helpful.

And I appreciate it, Mrs. Swettenham.

Psychology, there's your answer.

Psychology?

You've got to understand the criminal mind.

What leads him to put the advertisement in the paper?

Psychology. He wants to draw attention to himself.

Probably had a rough time at the Spa Hotel.

Other members of the staff looking down on him because he's a foreigner.

Yes, it can easily happen.

Chances are some pretty girl turned him down.

He wants to win her affection.

How will he do it?

He'll be the tough guy, the gangster, the masked man with a gun, the hero.

Sort of a Robin Hood, with an audience to play to.

Robbery with violence. Steal from the rich.

- And it all goes wrong? - Absolutely.

Took the words right out of my mouth.

The crucial moment comes, loses his nerve, panics,

shoots blindly in all directions.

You thought he shot blindly?

Oh, no doubt about it.

A room full of people, he manages to miss the lot.

Suddenly, it becomes real to him.

The dream becomes a nightmare.

Can't face the truth about himself.

Decides to put an end to it all.

Psychology.

Isn't it wonderful, Inspector,

the way Archie knows exactly what happened?

Yes, Mrs. Easterbrook. Wonderful.

Do you like pigs, Inspector?

I love 'em.

Make a nice rasher by Christmas, this one.

Yes, I'm sure.

Well...

What can I tell you?

Anything you remember about the incident last night.

Incident? We used to have incidents when I was in the ARP during the war.

Saw some incidents then would make your hair curl.

Enjoyed every minute of it.

You mean, where was I when the shooting started?

Yes.

Leaning up against the mantelpiece

hoping to God somebody would offer me a drink.

Tell me about the shots.

Were they fired blindly or aimed at one particular person?

No idea.

The torch was whirling around dazzling everybody,

and the shots were fired,

and all I could think was it was that damn fool Patrick up to his silly games.

You thought it was Patrick Simmons?

Mmm. Process of elimination really.

Edmund Swettenham's some sort of intellectual communist who writes books.

A bit soft, if anything.

Old Colonel Easterbrook isn't much of a one for jokes.

But Patrick's wild enough for anything,

though not robbery with violence.

What about your friend, Miss Murgatroyd? Did she see anything?

Murgatroyd!

Here.

She's up a tree.

Police!

She won't be much help.

Listen to her by all means, but don't take too much notice.

Is it Scotland Yard?

Inspector Craddock from Milchester.

Oh, even better. Have you found any decent clues?

All he wants to know is where you were when the crime took place.

Oh, dear, of course. I... I ought to have been prepared.

Alibis. Uh...

Now let me see. I was with everybody else.

You weren't with me.

I remember that girl screaming and a voice saying,

"Put them up, please."

"Stick 'em up!" And he certainly didn't say please.

Dear, I'm sorry I can't be more helpful.

I get so confused. It's all such a blur.

Is there anything else you want to know?

No, I don't think so.

The Inspector's already made up his mind about you, Murgatroyd.

No question of it.

Well, I'll say anything that'll help, if it's likely to help.

I think you'll find the vicar's wife more value

than the two of us put together, Inspector.

We're more used to pigs.

You've both been extremely helpful and I'm very grateful. Thank you.

Oh, Hinch, was I very awful? I get so flustered.

As usual, you were quite astonishing.

Thank you.

Well, you see, I hate being dazzled.

So, when he shone the torch, I shut my eyes.

And I... I hate loud noises,

so when he fired the shots, I shut my eyes even tighter.

I wish it had been a quiet murder.

When did you open your eyes?

When I was quite sure that the bangs had stopped.

Some people were out in the hall with candles.

Then the lights came on and everybody was normal again.

People in the dark are quite different, aren't they?

What did you see when the lights came on?

The young man... Scherz? Is that the name?

Yes.

He was lying there, dead, with a revolver beside him.

He looked so young and surprised.

It doesn't make sense. All this in Chipping Cleghorn.

I agree. Except I have to make it make sense.

They all tell different versions of the same story.

And even if they told the same version, it still adds up to nonsense.

An important question, Fletcher.

Sir?

- How good is your typing? - Rough, but accurate.

Good. The chief constable likes accuracy.

I'll try not to disappoint him.

- Now sit down, Craddock. - Thank you, sir.

Anything new since you wrote this report?

Information from the Swiss police. Scherz had a criminal record.

Ah!

Petty thieving, falsified entries, checks...

- A dishonest man. - But in a small way.

Don't small things lead to larger things?

I'm not sure, sir.

Well, it seems very clear to me.

Scherz traveled by bus to Chipping Cleghorn.

Evidence of a conductor and two passengers.

He got into the house, probably simply by opening the front door.

He held up the company,

assembled by placing an announcement in the local newspaper,

which we know he did.

Evidence of the cashier in the Gazette office.

He then fired three shots.

Two go into the wall, and one goes into him.

Well, in my practical world that means that a coroner's jury

is going to bring in a verdict of suicide or accidental death.

Either way, we can draw a line across the ledger and turn to the next page.

I have the feeling that that silence indicates that you disagree.

I disagree, sir.

Why?

I don't know exactly.

Offer me a theory.

Miss Bunner insists that Scherz intended to murder Miss Blacklock.

Is Miss Bunner a reliable witness?

Utterly unreliable.

She's a very sweet, slightly scatty old lady,

but she's totally sincere and it's all her own idea.

Nobody's put it there. And she insists.

A personal question, Craddock.

How do you get on with scatty old ladies?

I have nothing against them in principle, sir.

Good.

Because there's one staying at the Royal Spa Hotel.

It's a Miss Marple. Miss Jane Marple.

Well, she's an old friend of Sir Henry Clithering.

His opinion is that you should take Miss Marple into your confidence.

Show her your report if you like.

She's entirely trustworthy.

Well, thank you for letting me see this, Inspector.

Any observations, Miss Marple?

Yes, but may I digress a little first?

By all means.

I should like to show you something.

I am staying here for a few days, taking the spa waters.

Rheumatism, you know.

Oh, well, of course, you don't know.

But when you're my age, I'm afraid, perhaps you might.

Of course, I couldn't afford to stay here,

but I have a very generous nephew called Raymond.

Now then, here we are.

- A check? - Yes, he altered it.

He?

The young man who worked at the desk and who is now, I understand, dead.

You see, it was for seven pounds and he altered it to seventeen.

A stroke in front of the seven and a "teen" added to the word "seven."

Yes, very neatly done.

A certain amount of experience and practice, I should say.

As you say, very neatly done.

Well, the bank sent me my checks this morning and I noticed it at once.

What made you notice?

Well, I...

I never write a check for £17.

- But you do for seven? - Oh, yes. Quite often.

Of course, what struck me was that the young man had a shifty eye.

A shifty eye?

Yes, the kind that looks straight at you and never blinks.

It reminded me of Fred Tyler.

Should I know Fred Tyler?

Oh, no. No, no. He worked at the fish shop in my village.

Always adding an extra one to the shillings column.

You know, people very rarely check their bills.

Fred Tyler would look people in the eye and smile

and then steal enough money to take Jessie Spragge to the pictures

and buy very loud ties.

Well, as you suggested, you were quite right in your diagnosis.

Rudi Scherz had a...

- More coffee? - No, thank you.

- Miss Marple? - No, thank you, dear.

I shall last until teatime now. Thank you.

Have you talked to her, Inspector? I'm sure you have.

Yes, I did.

Well, talk to her again, because I think there's more to come.

She, uh... She brought me kippers this morning instead of herrings,

and forgot the milk jug.

You see, he may have told her who it was.

I'm sorry, who what was?

Well, who it was put him up to it.

You think somebody put him up to it?

Well, I... Yes, I think that's obvious, don't you?

Well, to be truthful, it's not all that obvious to me, Miss Marple.

Oh, I am so sorry.

Yes, well, do forgive me, but you see, here is a personable young man.

He filches a little here and there.

A petty thief likes to show off to the girls.

Then suddenly he goes off with a revolver

and holds up a whole room of people.

Well, he'd never have done a thing like that.

But we have witnesses to say that he did precisely that.

Oh, no. You have witnesses to say that

he flung open the door and shone a torch.

And pointed a gun at them.

But it was dark. How could they possibly have seen the gun?

You mean?

I mean, they thought they saw a gun.

They heard shots. They heard him say, "Stick 'em up," or words to that effect.

And then afterwards, they saw the gun lying on the floor.

But they couldn't possibly have seen the gun

when he first came in to the room.

Which means somebody else fired the shots.

Well, that's logical.

The same person who persuaded Rudi Scherz

to put the advertisement in the paper

and to, uh...

Burst open the door, shine a torch and say those ridiculous words.

You're telling me to look for a Mr. X?

A Mr., Mrs. or Miss X, I should say.

You know, Inspector, some of the best murderers are women,

especially, in an English village.

You turn over a stone, you have no idea what will crawl out.

But somebody who wanted to kill Miss Blacklock.

Well, it has that appearance.

Well, I must say,

you've turned my entire investigation inside out.

Oh, I am so sorry.

I didn't mean to interfere, Inspector.

May I... May I...

- May I cause you yet more trouble? - If you like.

May I change my mind, and have some cheese and biscuits?

And talk to that girl again, Inspector.

- She's very frightened. - Frightened?

Someone shot Rudi Scherz.

Somewhere in Chipping Cleghorn, a killer is at large.