All language subtitles for See.How.They.Run.2022.1080p.WEB-DL.DDP5.1.Atmos.H.264-EVO-HI

(WIND WHISTLING SOFTLY)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

(UPBEAT JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)

MAN: Agatha Christie's
The Mousetrap.

In my opinion, a second-rate
murder mystery. (SCOFFS)

Not that I've seen
it, you understand.

But it's a whodunit.

You've seen one,
you've seen 'em all.

You know the drill.

An interminable prologue

in which all the key
players are introduced.

You get a sense of the
world they inhabit,

and then the most unlikable
character gets bumped off.

There's been a murder?

MAN: Cue the entrance of
a world-weary detective,

who comes in and
pokes his nose around.

Talks to witnesses. Takes
a couple of wrong turns.

And then gathers all the
suspects in the drawing room

and points the finger at
the least likely chump

because of the way the guy,

I don't know,

ties his shoelaces.

Now you've seen our play,
you're an accomplice to murder.

And so, we ask you to remember

that it is very much
in your interests

not to tell a soul outside
of this theater who done it.

(AUDIENCE APPLAUDS AND CHEERS)

MAN: But what do I know?

The Limeys, they just lap it up.

The play's a smash hit.
(MAN CLEARS THROAT)

Not to mention a cash cow.

Right there is the milkmaid
in chief, Petula Spencer.

(RAT SQUEAKING)

(MUSIC INTENSIFIES)

(UPBEAT JAZZ MUSIC RESUMES)
(LAUGHTER AND CHATTER)

This lavish affair is a party to
celebrate the 100th performance.

No wonder film
producer John Woolf

wants to turn the play into
a major motion picture.

Here he is now in the arms of
his slightly paranoid wife.

I sense that death
is close at hand.

It's probably just a draft.

MAN: This is where I come in.

Leo Kopernick's the name.

Big-shot Hollywood director.

Hired to make the
film adaptation

marginally less boring
than the play. (CHUCKLES)

Easier said than done when the
writer's a giant pompous ass.

Mervyn Cocker-Norris.

I say, you're rather tall.

Am I? Haven't really thought
about it, to be honest.

Is that what happened here?

Sort of. I had a bit of
an accident backstage.

LEO: Sure, he's educated and
he knows a lot of $10 words,

but it's like he's never
seen a film before,

let alone try to write one.

Oh, ma vattinne!

Chi e chistu?

No one important.

Omm, femmina o bestia,
basta che respira!

You know, at times you do rather
overdo the temperamental Neapolitan.

That's a nice jacket.

Say, why don't you scare me up
a real drink, will you, kid?

Like a pint of rye or bourbon
or motor oil, if you have to.

Yeah. Hop to it, now, huh?

In England, that actually
counts as good service.

I was stationed
here during the war

and, if anything, the
locals are more uptight now

than when they had the
Luftwaffe overhead.

Mervyn?

Shouldn't you be home?

I thought we had a deadline.

I thought so too.

But then our esteemed director
tore up the screenplay

and told me to start
all over again.

He's of the opinion that a modern
audience will walk out in protest

if they're not served at least one
violent death in the opening frames.

Suffice to say, we are no
longer on speaking terms.

Merv! (SPITS)

London's most sensitive
writer. (CHUCKLES)

How is The Mousetrap, huh?

Did they catch the
guy who did it?

I will not stand
here and be insulted.

Well, I guess he's gonna go
over there and be insulted.

Huh.

LEO: (GROANS) What passes
for glamour in these parts.

Sheila Sim and
Dickie Attenborough.

Kid likes the sound
of his own voice.

Even money, he makes a speech.

I suppose I ought
to say a few words.

Not too many.

And when have I ever?
Our wedding, remember?

We almost missed the honeymoon.

Yes.

Darlings, you're ever so kind.

I'd like to ask you all to
raise a metaphorical bat

to the old pavilion.

The Mousetrap is 100, not out.

Cheers! ALL: Cheers!

LEO: I tell you what
else is 100 not out.

Petula's mother.

(CHUCKLES) The old kook's
just crazy about seafood.

They just brought out
more langoustines.

(CRAB LEG SNAPS)

Excuse me, I just need
to deal with that.

Mother! Please,

you've had quite enough. Hi.

Now, I'm not one to tell
tales out of school,

but the girls over here,

they go wild for
an American accent

and the promise of
a pair of nylons.

But the husbands...

Right. I think it's time
someone taught you a lesson.

LEO: they're not
so easily won over.

It's only fair to warn you that
I learned to box in the RAF.

Yeah? Well, I learned to fly
a plane in Gleason's Gym.

(GUESTS EXCLAIM)

(MUSIC ENDS)

All of which explains, in an
admittedly roundabout fashion,

how I come to be in the
theater's backstage area

in need of a change of clothes.

(SOFT CREAK)

Hello?

(SCOFFS)

(METAL SQUEAKS IN DISTANCE)

Hello?

(FLOORBOARD CREAKS)

(GRUNTS)

(DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING)

(LEO GROANS)

(GAGGING)

(GASPING)

(TENSE MUSIC PLAYING)

Aw, jeez.

(MUSIC HALTS)

I guess I should have
seen this coming.

It's always the most unlikable
character who gets bumped off.

(THUMP) (DRAMATIC NOTE PLAYS)

It's a whodunit.

You've seen one,
you've seen 'em all.

(DRAMATIC NOTE PLAYS)
(THUNDER RUMBLING)

(MYSTERIOUS MUSIC PLAYING)

(THUNDER CONTINUES RUMBLING)

(ENGINE REVS)

(TIRES SQUEAL)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

We're closed.

(DOOR RATTLING) Clear off.

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Honestly.

Oh, I'm so sorry, sir.
Inspector, uh, Stoppard, sir.

Sorry, I was under strict
instructions not to let anyone in.

Just open the door.

Yes, sir. Of course. Sorry,
I didn't recognize you, sir.

I've actually, uh, just
been transferred myself.

Thought it was Leeke and
Priestley on rotation tonight.

(BUMPS) Careful, sir.

In you come.

(STOPPARD SIGHS)

Constable. Stalker, sir.

God, you're all
wet through, sir.

Hope you don't catch
a cold after that.

Yep, after you, sir.

Victim's name is Leo Kopernick,
sir. The film director.

Suspected Communist,
blacklisted in Hollywood,

so he came out here to work
on a picture for John Woolf.

You know John Woolf,
the film producer.

He made The African Queen
with Humphrey Bogart.

(IMITATING ACTOR)
"Nature, Mr. Allnut,

"is what we are put in
this world to rise above."

That didn't sound
anything like Bogart.

No, that was Katharine
Hepburn, sir. She's in it too.

Wonderful actress.

I go to the pictures
quite a lot, actually.

It's the escape, I suppose.

The romance of
the silver screen.

Yes, thank you, Constable.

Yes, sir.

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

(CHATTER QUIETS)

(WOMAN COUGHS)

Eh, signs of a struggle.

STALKER: Actually, sir,
I believe that happened

when Mrs. Boyle was killed.

Mrs. Boyle? Who's...

Yes, sir. Um...

She's that woman in
the front row there.

Well, she seems to
have bounced back.

Oh. (CHUCKLES)

Sorry, sir. No, she was killed
in the play. Also strangled.

Not that I've seen it,
although I would like to.

It's an Agatha Christie,
and I do like a good murder.

Yes, thank you, Constable.

Yes, sir.

(EERIE MUSIC PLAYING)

A ski did that, sir.

They use it in the
play, apparently.

As I said, I haven't seen it.

And then the large dent in the
cranium is a sewing machine.

Seems he was killed in the
costume store initially,

and then he was deposited here.

Staged, so to
speak. (CHUCKLES)

Sorry, sir.

Yeah, that's the ski that
he took in the face, sir.

And, uh, I'm afraid it
was downhill from there.

Oh. Sorry, sir.

That one just came out
on its own. (CHUCKLES)

(STALKER CLEARS THROAT)

Seems he came down here

for a change of clothes.

Why?

It was a party to celebrate
the 100th performance, sir.

The other nought must have...

When the victim
upset the sponge.

Um, and he then proceeded to sit
in the assortment of crustaceans.

(GRUNTS) (GUESTS EXCLAIM)

I'm told he was intoxicated,
sir, as a newt. (CHUCKLES)

This was actually a lot more
fun than I thought it would be.

(SOMBER MUSIC PLAYS)

Then he left. No one saw him again
until the body was discovered.

That's correct, sir.

(SIGHS) Perhaps they were
all in on it together, sir?

Hmm.

(SOFT CRUNCH)

(CAMERA FLASHBULB POPS)

Looks like the killer tried to
pull out the victim's tongue.

Why would anyone do
a thing like that?

Excuse me, Chief Inspector.

It's just "Inspector."

Yes. Of course. Inspector.

I hate to interrupt, I do.

There really is nothing worse...

Petula Spencer, sir.
Prominent theater impresario.

Yes, thank you, Constable.

Tell me, how much longer do you
intend to keep us all hostage here?

Or is that the idea?

"Let the galled jade wince."

Gather all the
suspects under one roof

and then interrogate each of us in
turn until the mystery is solved?

Mervyn Cocker-Norris,
overrated playwright.

Celebrated playwright.

Oh, I'm so sorry, sir.

I can't read me own handwriting.

Not that we are
suspects, necessarily.

Are we suspects?

It was just a reference
to Agatha Christie

and her penchant for denouement,

in which the detective
gathers the susp...

I dare say, that's not...

Please continue. Yes,
thank you, Mervyn.

Inspector, I want you to know

that I have nothing
but the utmost respect

for the Metropolitan Police.

But, well, do you think
you might be finished

in time for curtain
up tomorrow night?

Oh, for goodness' sake.

John Woolf, esteemed
film producer.

Yes, thank you, Constable.

This is a murder investigation.

Surely that takes
precedence, sold out or not.

Yes, it's all going to plan
for you, isn't it, Woolfie?

You want the run to end.

WOOLF: (SCOFFS) I want
nothing of the sort.

It's the decent thing
to do, that's all.

Close the theater out
of respect for Leo.

Such a tragic loss.

Inspector, I implore
you not to overreact.

I would hate to have to
go over your head and

talk directly to your superiors.

Oh, we wouldn't want that,
now, would we, madam?

But I'm afraid that
under the circumstances,

as a precaution... Precaution?

He's already dead.

STOPPARD: He is, madam.

But until we have an idea
as to a likely motive,

who's to say this
is the end of it?

What is that supposed to mean?

We are no longer
merely suspects.

We are also potential victims.

(CAMERA FLASHBULB POPS) Oh.

Mmm.

Oh, God, I wasn't in that,
was I? I must look dreadful.

(UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYING)

(TIRES SQUEAL) (ENGINE REVS)

(INDISTINCT CONVERSATIONS)

Excuse me, sir.

(BLOWS NOSE)

MAN: Stoppard!

My office.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)
STOPPARD: Hello, sir.

What in God's name possessed you

to close down the Ambassadors?

Uh, protocol, sir.
It's a crime scene.

No, it's a public relations
disaster, is what it is.

Public what, sir?

Stalker! Sir.

Not to put too
fine a point on...

Yes, please. Here.

Not to put too fine a
point on it, Inspector,

but your latest blunder
is front page news.

Fleet Street is all over this,

like hot jam on a
Devonshire scone.

You are slap-bang
in the crosshairs.

Now, we need to do
everything we can

to make sure the bullet
doesn't miss you and hit me.

Yeah, of course,
sir. Yes. Good.

Then you'll inform
the theater at once.

Well, I thought as
a precaution, I...

The Home Secretary

is a close, personal
friend of Agatha Christie.

His brother-in-law
is Rex Harrison.

Wonderful actor.

Yes, thank you,
Constable. Sir.

It's actually worked in our favor to
have the press distracted like this.

It means we can keep a lid on
the Rillington Place murders.

Rillington Place murders.
Yes. What's that?

(SIGHS) Blimey.

Haven't you heard?

We have a serial
killer on the loose.

You didn't think all of this
was for you, now, did you?

No, of course... No.

(BOTH CHUCKLE) Of course not.

Well, have all the resources been
allocated to this other investigation?

No, not all of them, no.

I understand you, uh, met
WPC Stalker last night?

I did, yes.

Constable. Inspector.

A very capable officer.

Or at least she will be once
she gets the proper instruction.

Sorry, sir, I'm
not sure I, uh...

You don't mean you want me to...

Yes, I do. I'd like you
to show her the ropes.

I'm hoping some of her enthusiasm
for police work might rub off on you.

But the, uh, bullet,
sir. Is that why...

This is not a debate, Stoppard.

I have a reputation
as a modernizer.

I have to be seen to keep it up.

I have said in public

that I think women are
the future of the force.

Absolutely, sir, I agree.

(CHUCKLING) But
we're not looking

for stolen sweets... Sweets.

Or a lost bleeding bicycle.

This is a murder investigation,
and she is inexperienced.

They were inexperienced
in the war.

Ask Jerry how that turned out.

Yes, sir. But, uh...

That... Huh?

Will be all. Thank you.

Commissioner. Inspector.

Constable. Inspector.

Commissioner. Constable.

Um, sorry again about
last night, sir.

With the rain and everything...

Water under the bridge,
Constable. No harm done.

(SNEEZES)

(PLAYFUL JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)

(SNIFFLES, GROANS)

(SNEEZES) You all right?

Yeah. Do we have an
address for the victim?

Yep. It is "Laurel
Canyon, Hollywood, USA."

Where was he staying
in England, Constable?

Oh. Um...

(TUTS) Right.

(PLAYFUL JAZZ MUSIC CONTINUES)

(ELEVATOR BELL DINGS)

If I am honest,
Monsieur Kopernick,

he was not a very good guest.

In arrears, was he?

La, non, but he did
not pay for his room.

Monsieur Woolf did.

STALKER: Hmm.

What part of France
are you from, sir?

Belgium.

Ah, right.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

(DOOR CLOSES)
STOPPARD: Oh, my, my.

What a bloody pigsty.

They don't clean the
rooms at the Savoy?

Helas, not this one.

Hmm.

The maids, they refuse.

We offer them more money,
but still they say non.

There was

an incident.

Always avec Monsieur Kopernick,
there was an incident.

Hmm.

Ooh.

STOPPARD: Thank
you, Constable.

Oh. Sorry, sir.

Did one of these incidents
ever turn violent?

Oui. Une fois.

(ROUSING MUSIC PLAYS)

MERVYN: How dare you
call me a bad writer!

LEO: I didn't say that.
I said it's bad writing.

MERVYN: I did the best I could
within the confines of the genre,

and Woolf loved it!

LEO: Woolf wouldn't know a good script
if it came up and bit him on the ass.

It's horseshit! No, it
isn't! Not all of it!

All right, what I
read is horseshit!

MERVYN: (GASPS) You mean
you didn't even finish it?

I read enough, pal,

to know that nobody gets
killed in the first 10 pages!

You charlatan! Give it back!

Listen. Listen to
me. Listen! Give...

We need to go in a completely
different direction!

(STRAINING)

(LEO GRUNTS) (YELPS)

(LAMP SHATTERS)

(PANTING)

I'll kill you for this,
Kopernick, you bastard!

That's that then, sir. It's
as good as a confession.

Let's not jump to
conclusions, Constable.

No, sir.

The least we can do is
talk to this other party.

Yes, sir. Cocker-Norris, sir.

STOPPARD: Tell me, do
you write everything down

in that little notebook?

Only if it's important, sir.

How do you know
if it's important?

Well,

uh, I'll just sort of put
everything in as we go,

and then down the line when
we know what's important,

we'll know that it's
already in the notebook.

So you do write everything down.

Yeah, everything.

That's what I thought.

(ENGINE STARTS)

(OPERATIC SONG PLAYING)

MERVYN: Make
yourself comfortable.

You're just in
time for elevenses.

(GRUNTS) Oh.

(SONG CONTINUES PLAYING)

Oh!

(DOOR OPENS)

(DOOR CLOSES)

(OPERA STOPS)

You must excuse the desordre,

it's research for
the film adaptation.

Police statements, court
reports, newspaper cuttings.

The Mousetrap is actually
based on a real-life case.

Nettle tea?

I appreciate you've not yet
had time to come to terms

with the death of
Mr. Kopernick, but...

Is it true his tongue
was pulled out?

(CHUCKLING) I'm afraid
I can't divulge details

of an ongoing investigation.

It was disgusting.

(DOOR OPENS) Amore,
non pozzo fatica cosi!

What?

E na cos' 'e pazz!

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYS)

(CHUCKLES LIGHTLY)

That's Gio. Nephew of
mine. Very hotheaded.

I wonder if it
isn't all the fumes.

You know, from the chemicals.

He's an amateur taxidermist.

He has a fascination
with the macabre.

I call it his
Stymphalian Bird series.

STOPPARD: Hmm.

MERVYN: Macabre in a strictly
"ornithological" sense, that is.

You wanted to ask me about Leo?

STOPPARD: We heard there was
an argument at the Savoy,

and I noticed you had
the other half of this.

Inspector, that was a
contretemps, nothing more.

(SOFTLY) Read that part. Yeah.

"I'll kill you for this,
Kopernick, you bastard."

Well, obviously, I...

Taken out of context, I...

Those words were spoken in anger
and under extreme provocation.

We had creative
differences, that's all.

Hmm.

How did you like The Mousetrap?

Oh, yeah, the play? Mmm.

Yeah, I, uh... I
didn't see it yet.

Well, if you'd like,

I can precis
this... No, no, no.

I got the basics. It's
a whodunit, right?

So, you got a dead
body, a detective,

and then all the suspects
rather conveniently

end up in a remote
country house together.

In a nutshell.

Our task will be to present
this improbable series of events

to an audience of
moderate intelligence

in a manner that does not
cause too much offense.

Easy.

Flashbacks.

No.

No what?

No flashbacks.

They are crass, lazy,
and they interrupt

the flow of the story.

In my opinion, they are the last
refuge of a moribund imagination.

Whatever next?

A caption that says,
"Three weeks later"?

(DRAMATIC NOTE PLAYS)

(KNOCKING ON DOOR)

Merv. Merv, will you come on?

This is crazy. Will
you open the door?

I'm not coming out
until Woolf gets here.

(DOOR BUZZES)

What is it this time?

I'll tell you what it is.

I pitched a new ending,

Cockamamie-Novice over here
locks himself in the bathroom.

Is this instead
of the car chase?

As well as.

I think he thinks "denouement"
is French for "shootout."

Will you at least
hear me out first,

and then tell me
you don't like it?

Come on, I storyboarded it
for you. Come on, have a seat.

MERVYN: Why can't we just have the detective
gather everyone in the drawing room

and then reveal to
them who did it?

Why? 'Cause it's
old, it's tired.

It's been done a thousand times.

So then who explains to the
audience what on Earth's going on?

No one.

I don't know. The killer.

Now you see what I
have to put up with?

Will you please have a seat?

So, a remote country house.

We got all the, uh, suspects
gathered in the drawing room, right?

So far, soporific.

Suddenly, the lights go out.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

Our hero grips his Colt
Special, edges into the hall.

The killer's got a hostage,
can't get a clear shot.

Suddenly, kaboom!

The place goes up in flames.

(CARD SHUFFLES)

Blam! Blam!

Our hero plugs the killer.

One in the gut! (GRUNTS)

One in the knee! (GROANS)

Then, all of a sudden...

(MIMICS GUN CLICKING)

His goddamned gun jams.

He's a sittin' duck.

Sorry, not that one.

(CARDS SHUFFLING)

I'm sorry about this.

He's a sittin' duck.

(TENSE MUSIC PLAYING)

Our killer, dying but not dead,

takes aim.

Boom! He fires.

Out of nowhere,

our hero cop's partner
dives in slow motion!

Takes a bullet!

(GRUNTS)

Our hero cradles his partner
like a father would his child.

His face a gumbo of emotions.

We hold on the inferno,

and we pan left,
to a dead butler.

(SOFT MUSIC PLAYING)

Hank Williams plays us out.

I Saw The Light.

You hate it. No,
no, I don't hate it.

But you don't love it.
Of course he doesn't!

It's preposterous

and totally out of keeping
with the rest of the film.

Oh, who cares?

The audience only ever
remembers the last 20 minutes.

Oh, poppycock.

Uh, Hitchcock, actually.

How does he get the gun?

He's a cop!

Uh, police are not
armed in England.

What? How do they
kill the bad guys?

They don't.

They ask them to stop
in the name of the law.

(CAR HORN HONKING) Huh.

Well, he fought in the war,

so he kept his service revolver.

God damn it, we're gonna have
to pick this up another time.

Say, uh, Merv.

You wouldn't want to lend
me this pad, would you?

Just for the night.

Only I got this dame parked
outside I wanna impress.

As in, she actually is a dame.

And, well, you
know. (CHUCKLES)

My place ain't
exactly the Savoy.

I thought his place
exactly was the Savoy.

No, he didn't take up residence
there till a month later.

And the production company
footed the bill when he did.

How he finagled that,
I'll never know.

(SLURPS)

Either I need a new agent,
or he had dirt on Woolf.

Hmm.

(SWALLOWS)

Did you ever meet these women?

(CLEARS THROAT) Who were they?

Oh, girls he met during the war

who had low standards and
even lower self-esteem.

I never had the pleasure.

Oh, wait.

Tell a lie.

(PLAYFUL JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)

LEO: Merv! Come on.

When I said we should
tear up the script,

I didn't mean literally!

Hello, Leo.

What is that doing here?

(GASPS)

He was Kopernick's son!

Peas in a pod.

And the mother?

I didn't get a good look. A
plain girl, rather homely.

Dark hair, glasses,

thick lenses.

So there we have it,
sir. Cherchez la femme.

STOPPARD: What?

It's Belgian, sir. It
means, "Look for the woman."

I know what it means,
Constable. What woman?

The mother of Kopernick's
illegitimate son.

Cocker-Norris couldn't
remember her name,

but I bet it's in that
little black book.

You know, the one that you
found in the hotel room, sir.

If we find her, we
have our answer.

We need to get a police sketch
artist down here at once

before he forgets anything.

(SIGHS)

Mmm. I'm doing it
again, aren't I, sir?

Jumping to conclusions.
Conclusions, yeah.

Little bit.

Sorry.

Constable.

I have a very important
mission for you.

Mmm-hmm.

I need you to find
a telephone box.

Call the station.

Get an address for John
Woolf, the film producer.

And I'll wait for you here.

Uh, "Romulus Films, Soho,"
sir. I wrote it down.

You did? Mmm-hmm.

(SMACKS LIPS) Right.

Well done. Thank you.

(ENGINE STARTS) Shall we?

(UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

(BELL RINGS)

Uh, telegram came for you.

(GROANS) Bad news?

It's the studio.

Grace Kelly's doing a
Hitchcock picture for Warner,

so it's Dial M for
Maybe Next Time.

Grace Kelly? Yes.

For the part you
promised Sheila?

Yes, that's right.

Which is why this
is such good news.

(CLEARS THROAT)

Ann?

Darling, what's the matter?

You do know a promise is only
a promise if you keep it.

What do you mean?

I mean you promised me
a night out months ago.

I have been so busy lately.

Yes, I know. I am
your assistant.

I promise, as soon as I
have a moment to spare...

Well, you're free on Wednesday.

Am I? Are you sure? Mmm. Yes.

I thought I was... No.

No, well, you should know.

You are my assistant, after all.

Well, that's settled,
then. It's a date.

I promise I will take you out.

I'm afraid, Mr. Woolf, you
really must be going now,

otherwise you'll be late.

Ah, right. Thank you. Mmm.

No, I'm serious.

You do actually need
to get back to Romulus.

Oh. Right. Okay. Yes. Yes.

(EXHALES DEEPLY)

This is exciting, isn't it, sir?

I'd say this is
the type of thing

that made you want to become
a police officer, was it?

(SMACKS LIPS) Me? I just
sort of fell into it, really.

They needed people
after the war,

and I needed the money, so...

(SIGHS)

No, it's true. The
hours can be unsociable,

but I can't type or
stand the sight of blood,

so that ruled out
secretary for me.

Mmm.

You don't mind if I pick
your brains, do you, sir?

Only I have sergeants'
exams in a month,

and I just have one or two questions
that I'd love to run by you.

Um... Actually, Constable,

I've just remembered
that I have a, uh...

(DOOR SHUTS)
dentist appointment.

Oh. Sorry, sir. I didn't
know you were suffering.

Just a routine checkup.

What shall I do,
sir? Wait here.

But what if Woolf turns up, sir?

Won't be long. And
you have your, uh,

notebook.

Keep your eyes
peeled. Yes, sir.

(CLEARS THROAT)

(SIGHS DEEPLY)

(STEALTHY JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)

Gin. BARTENDER: Gin?

Yeah, please.

(WHISPERS) Oh, you're joking.

Oh, no.

(STALKER SIGHS)

(PENCIL SNAPS) Oh, God.

(SIGHS)

(UP-TEMPO JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)

Follow this up with
another, please.

(DOORBELLS RINGING)

(MELODIC WHISTLING)

(STOPS WHISTLING)
(MUSIC STOPS)

(GRUNTS)

There you are, Constable.

I've been looking
all over for you.

STOPPARD: So, I gather
it was you that, uh, paid

for Mr. Kopernick's rather
extravagant hotel suite.

Oh, nothing unusual
in that, Inspector.

I'm afraid a producer is expected
to indulge the whims of the talent.

Especially when
they're American.

But still, a pretty penny,
a room at the Savoy.

Par for the course.

When I was in the Congo
for The African Queen,

Huston and Bogart refused
to drink the water.

Insisted on bourbon, even to
brush their teeth. (CHUCKLES)

Not so easy to get hold of in
the jungle, I can assure you.

Huh. You know, Constable Stalker
here is a great admirer of that film.

Aren't you, Constable?

It's a marvelous film, sir.

Why, thank you, Constable.

(CHUCKLES DRYLY) Encyclopedia.

Cinematic encyclopedia up there.

I wouldn't say that. Yeah.

Right.

Being humble. (WOOLF CHUCKLES)

I'm not.

So, it's not true that
Kopernick had dirt on you?

(SCOFFS)

Who told you that?

(DRUM INTRO MUSIC PLAYING)

(BAND PLAYING UPBEAT MUSIC)

(LIVELY CHATTER)

(ANN CHUCKLING)

Well, now, what do we have here?

(ALL CHUCKLE POLITELY)

Huh, Woolfie?

Sittin' in a quiet corner,

all very nice and intimate.
(ANN CLEARS THROAT)

Hmm?

Say, you wouldn't mind if
I joined you, would you?

(CHUCKLES) Not
at all, old boy.

Uh-huh.

And you must be
Mrs. Woolf, huh?

Swell to make your acquaintance.

(MUMBLES) No, no.
Leo, this is Ann.

(CLEARS THROAT)
She's my assistant.

Ah.

Workin' late, huh?

If you'll excuse me...

Um, I'm sorry.

You have a nice night, now.

(SIGHS) Well, now.

(TUTS) This puts
me in a tough spot.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

That I'm afraid I'm gonna
have to take advantage of.

WOOLF: He asked to be put up
at the Savoy, and I agreed.

I knew it wouldn't be for long.

That is, just until I found
the right moment to...

tell my wife.

I see. Well,

we'll be in touch if
there's anything else.

Uh...

Constable.

Shall we?

But, sir, Woolf killed
Kopernick to hush up the affair.

Case closed.

I think if that was the case,

he wouldn't have
volunteered the information.

So, then he's in the clear?

No, not necessarily.

He might have killed Kopernick
for another reason entirely.

(SIGHS) I tell you,

I'll never get the hang of this
in time for sergeants' exams.

(KEYS RATTLING) (SIGHS DEEPLY)

Constable, about earlier.

I know it looked like I'd
just come out of the pub.

You had just come
out of the pub.

That's right.

But I'd only gone in there

to get rid of the
taste of the mouthwash.

So you had a gin, sir.

It's an antiseptic.
I had a filling.

I thought you said it
was a routine checkup.

I see we've read the chapter
on interrogation techniques.

(SIGHS) Sir,

I know I haven't done
anything yet to impress you

or to inspire any
confidence, and...

I know you'd probably rather
that I wasn't on the case.

But I didn't ask to be put
on this case either, sir.

I was nervous, and I still am,

and I'm probably
trying a bit too hard.

But, you know, even
if I do make mistakes

or if I jump to conclusions

or talk a little bit too
much, that has been said,

I just want you to know
that you can trust me.

Sir.

Okay. Good. Um...

(ENGINE STARTS)

(SLOW-TEMPO ROCK SONG PLAYING)

(SWITCH CLICKS)

(MUSIC STOPS ABRUPTLY)
(ALARM RINGING)

(ALARM STOPS RINGING)

(STOPPARD GROANS)

(WHISPERS) Oh, you're
joking. (CAR DOOR CLOSES)

Constable. Commissioner.

Stoppard about?

Er, no, sir. He's not yet
made it in this morning.

It's almost eleven o'clock.

He, uh... He had a
dentist appointment, sir.

A filling, I think
he said it was.

A molar, it might have been?

I have been summoned
to the Home Secretary.

He wants a debrief.

I said I had good news.

(SIGHS)

Have you seen the
play, sir? Huh?

Oh. Yes.

I'm afraid I took the
wife for her birthday.

Oh.

Of course, it didn't
fool me for a moment.

I knew who did it right away.

(CHUCKLES) She was
baffled, though.

Even after the chap
explained everything.

It was a trying night
for all concerned.

Mmm.

I'll stick to flowers in future.

Yes, always a safe bet, sir.

(TIRES SCREECH) (CAR BUMPS)

STOPPARD: Sorry.

Police.

MAN: Please try to
be more careful, sir.

(CLEARS THROAT)

STOPPARD: Good morning.

Commissioner. Inspector.

Is it wise to eat so many mints?

STOPPARD: How do
you mean, sir?

Well, haven't you just
been to the dentist?

Yes, that's right, sir.

Yeah. It was just a checkup.

Although I did have
a filling as well.

Since I was there.

I've come down here for
an update, Inspector.

We have good news, sir.

COMMISSIONER AND
STOPPARD: We do?

Yes, sir. Isn't that what
you told the Home Secretary?

Yes, that's what I
told the Home Secretary

on the telephone.

I came down here to get it.

So we don't have good news?

We do have a witness, sir.

To the murder? (CHUCKLES)

Yeah, that would be nice,
wouldn't it? (CHUCKLES)

Um, no. One of the ushers
saw a suspicious character.

He's waiting for us inside.

Very well.

I'll tell the Home Secretary
we have a promising lead.

And I'll rely on you not
to make a liar out of me.

Constable. Commissioner.

Inspector.

Commissioner.

Constable.

Inspector.

STOPPARD: So, Dennis, um,

I understand that you saw
something the other night.

Yeah. What'd you see?

Well, I'd gone to get a bottle
of Scotch for the dead man.

Um... This was before,
you know, he died.

Um... And then you came back,

and that's when you saw
the suspicious character?

Exactly.

Well, sort of.

I didn't get a very good
look, if I'm honest.

He had on, like, a
darkish overcoat.

I see. Anything else?

(INHALES SHARPLY)

A pair of trousers.

And a hat.

It was on his head.

Right. Yeah.

Yeah. A soft, felt hat.

Mmm-hmm.

What about a
physical description?

Was he a tall man?
Short? Thick set?

Oh... Just average, I'd say.

STOPPARD: Average
height or average build?

Um...

Both?

No, don't ask me.

I don't know. I'm asking you.

Average height,

medium build.

Would you say like
the Inspector?

DENNIS: Yeah.

Suppose so. Pretty much.

So what did he do that
made you suspicious?

It wasn't so much what he did,

it was more, you know,
the way he did it.

Right. How'd he do it?

Well, sort of...

suspiciously.

This has been great.

Off you go.

Thank you. Thank you.

Thank you.

That was good.

Do you think that went well?

STOPPARD: I think it's
time we talk to that actor

who had a fight with Kopernick.

STALKER:
Mr. Attenborough, sir?

STOPPARD: That's the
one. Famous, is he?

You're pulling my leg, sir.
You've never heard of Dickie?

Richard Attenborough?

Pinkie Brown? Brighton
Rock? You must have.

(MIMICKING DICKIE) "You wanted
a recording of my voice.

"Well, here it is.

"What you want me to
say is 'I love you.'"

Keep in mind that we're
here to conduct an interview

as part of a murder
investigation,

not an article for Sight
& Sound magazine, yes?

Yes, sir.

(KNOCKING) DICKIE:
Come in, darling.

Inspector Stoppard.

I say, a real-life detective.

Scotland Yard and everything.

And you are?

(CHUCKLES)

This is... (SIGHS IN AWE)

Constable Stalker.
(WHISPERS) Stalker.

(GRUNTS)

Oh, I like the way you did that.

Very natural.

I hope you don't mind, sir,
but I just want to say bravo.

And, uh, encore.
(CHUCKLING) DICKIE: Oh.

All right, thank you, Constable.

Yes, thank you, Constable.

Are you a lover of theater?

I can get you
tickets if you like.

I would like, sir.
Yes. Very much.

DICKIE: It would be good to
get a professional take on it.

STALKER: Mmm-hmm.
DICKIE: Yeah.

I have so many questions.

I have one or two of my own.

I dare say that you do.

I understand that you
and, uh, Kopernick

came to blows the
night in question.

Was there a particular
reason for the ill feeling?

Tell me, Inspector, did you
get your limp during the war?

It's very slight.

I noticed it the other night

when you were on
stage. I, um... (TUTS)

Well, I thought I might
borrow it, if you don't mind.

It's always good for the lead
character to have a physical defect.

Speaks to a troubled soul.

It was me, Inspector.
You need look no further.

I arrest you

for the murder of
Leo... No, no, no.

No. Not yet.

STALKER: Oh. Sorry, sir.

I was the particular
reason for the ill feeling.

Yes, well, Leo had his
eye on Sheila, you see.

And I took exception.

He was a real hound, Inspector.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC INTRO PLAYING)

LEO: Come on, play nice.

Maybe I can help you.

Help me?

To do what?

Bag the lead role in the
film of The Mousetrap.

Top billing.

Make you a star.

But I have bagged the lead role.

Yeah, who told
you that, Woolfie?

He is the producer.

Honey, he just cuts the checks.

I'm the director.

Without me, there is no
movie. You understand?

You got a problem, buddy?

Keep the change.
And the glass.

And the studio, don't
they have a say in it?

Rumor is they want to
put a name in the picture

that people have heard of.

Bona fide Hollywood star.

They like Grace Kelly.
You ever heard of her?

Don't worry.

They can be talked round.

I've got a very,
uh, silver tongue.

(MUSIC BUILDS UP)

(DICKIE GRUNTS)
(GUESTS EXCLAIM)

SHEILA: I won't
lie, Inspector.

I was not entirely sorry
to learn of his demise,

but I had no part in it.

Much like the film adaptation
of The Mousetrap, it would seem.

Oh, come now, darling,
you don't know that.

Woolf promised you the role.

He's a man of his
word. He went to Eton.

(SCOFFS) Wake up, Dickie.

He's a man of whatever word
will get his film made.

And that contract business with
Choo is coming apart at the seams.

Choo? Bless you, sir.

No, as in Petula Spencer.

She sold Woolf the film rights.

Well, about those tickets.

Is there a day that
suits you better?

Uh, I'm generally free on
Tuesdays and Wednesdays.

And Thursdays.

Well, thank you, sir.
Thank you, madam.

No, no, not at all. We'll
be sure to let you know

if anything else
springs to mind.

I'm sure it's always
the insignificant detail

that catches the
killer in the end.

Isn't that so, Inspector?

I don't usually have a
lot on on weekends either.

Or Mondays. For the...
For the tickets.

STOPPARD: Constable. Sir.

Right.

(UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYING)

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

(DOG WHIMPERING)

She'll see you now.

STOPPARD: So, you
own this theater?

Yes. Humble beginnings.

(RAGTIME PIANO MUSIC PLAYING)

You'll have to excuse Mother.

She's not been herself
since Father died,

in the first Great War.

It's been a long 30 years.

It's nice that you
gave her a job.

Well, how else is she
gonna pay the rent?

I let her have the spare
room at a discount as it is.

Yes, no. You can stop there.

We get the idea. Bravo.
(PIANO MUSIC STOPS)

I understand that
you handled the sale

of The Mousetrap film
rights to John Woolf?

Yes, that's right.
I did. Wait... Why?

What's he been saying?

Oh, he's such a crybaby.

Honestly, he acts as though
I put a gun to his head.

(SUSPENSEFUL NOTE PLAYS)

(POPS)

ANN AND PETULA: Oh! (LAUGHING)

Hang on a minute.
Is this important?

I doubt it. What does it say?

"No motion picture based on
the stage play The Mousetrap

"is to enter into production

"until a minimum of
six months have elapsed

"since the end of its
first theatrical run."

Oh, you don't need
to worry about that.

It's a whodunit.

As soon as word gets
out who did do it,

audiences are bound to drop off.

Come on, sign on the dotted
line, and I'll make a toast.

(ANN AND PETULA CHUCKLE)

Ann, darling, the
next contract I sign

will be our marriage
certificate.

(CHUCKLES) Well, first
it'll be the divorce papers.

But then our
marriage certificate.

(ANN YELPS) Edana, darling.

What a pleasant surprise.

You know Choo and,
uh... Mmm-hmm.

Ann. I do.

Dear girl, what on Earth
are you doing down there?

I just fell over. Excuse me.

Honestly, it's like having
Buster Keaton for an assistant.

Now, I've just come
from Madame Zena...

Oh, darling, I really wish
you wouldn't see that...

Please don't call
her a charlatan.

I was going to say "crackpot."

What's this? EDANA:
It's a Tarot card.

I can see that.
What does it mean?

Betrayal.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

Ooh.

Betrayal as in his
affair, not the contract.

That was above board.
Is above board.

Agatha insisted on
that clause, not me.

No, she's fiercely protective of
her own work, you see, because...

Well, she has to be.

People get so riled up.

She's had death
threats, you know.

Poor girl can't write so
much as a letter to The Times

without a deluge of legal action

and spurious claims she stole
this plot or that character.

Isn't that what
happened here, though?

Isn't The Mousetrap
based on a true story?

Yes. Well, originally.
I mean, tangentially.

In any case, that's the reason

Woolf was so keen to shut
the theater the other night.

He can't make his film

until the play ends its
run in the West End.

As it is, what with the play
being such a phenomenal success,

he's stuck in
theatrical purgatory.

Mmm-hmm.

He's a ruthless
customer, is Woolf.

He'll stop at nothing
to get his film made.

STALKER: It's
definitely Woolf, sir.

Well, not 100%.

More like 73-74%, I'd say.

He killed Kopernick in the
theater to force it to close down

so that he could make his film.

He could marry his mistress.

And then he could get
shot of a blackmailer.

It's not Woolf.
It's too elaborate.

Burn the place down, if
that's what you want.

Besides, doesn't he need
a director to make a film?

Well, then it's back
to Cocker-Norris.

Process of elimination.

No, it's not Mervyn.

Yeah, but the tongue business.

And he clearly didn't
like Leo, did he?

People don't rip out
other people's tongues

because of creative differences.

They do it out of revenge

or rage because they've
lost a loved one.

They can't forgive or forget,

so they just stew and
fester alone in the dark

until finally it all comes out

in a sudden, frenzied
act of violence.

How did you get the limp, sir?

If you don't mind me asking.

Uh, in the war. Got shot
in the Italian Alps.

Hmm.

Sounds painful.

What do you... (LAUGHS)

(CHUCKLES) Sorry, sir.

No, that's very funny.

Is there a
Mr. Stalker, Stalker?

Uh, I'm afraid he
died in the war, sir.

Children?

A boy and a girl.

Can't be easy. (CHUCKLES)

What about you? Do you
have any family, sir?

(SMACKS LIPS) Uh,
I came close, once.

Yeah, I had an unfaithful wife.

Oh.

She was eight months pregnant

when she told me I
wasn't the father.

I'd made a cot and everything.

That's awful, sir. I'm sorry.

(GRUNTS DISMISSIVELY)

Landlord. LANDLORD: Yes, sir?

Another round.

Oh, I don't know.

Should we maybe get going, sir?

Got work tomorrow. (CHUCKLES)

(MELLOW MUSIC
PLAYING) (DOOR OPENS)

LANDLORD: Go on, steer off
before I call the police!

(STALKER GRUNTS)

Sorry again. Thank you.

Are you sure you're all
right to drive, sir?

Absolutely.

STALKER: Oh!

STOPPARD: I could run
you home if you like.

(MELLOW MUSIC CONTINUES)

STALKER: Now. Just
gonna pop you there.

(SLURRING) I can take
it from here, Constable.

Oh.

Sir.

There we go.

(PANTING)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

(SWITCH CLICKS)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC CONTINUES)

(MUSIC INTENSIFYING)

(MUSIC FADES)

Morning, sir.

What do you want?

Uh, the other night,
sir. The dead Yank.

Inspector Stoppard got the call
and not Leeke or Priestley.

So?

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

Leeke was in Skegness
on his honeymoon,

and Priestley took the
Rillington Place call.

What time?

Half-past 11:00. Book
at Bedtime was on.

Did you ever meet
Stoppard's wife, sir?

I did.

You don't happen to
remember her name, do you?

It was...

Mrs. Stoppard.

Brilliant.

(ROUSING MUSIC PLAYING)

Hello, is this Abigale?

Hello, is this Beryl?

I am a friend of
Leo Kopernick's.

(LINE DISCONNECTS)

Beryl?

Is Geraldine there
by any chance?

(SIGHS)

STOPPARD: Oh,
Constable. STALKER: Sir.

Did Dickie ever come through
on those theater tickets?

I thought of going, and, uh...
Maybe the play's the thing

Ties this all together.
Would you like to tag along?

Yes, sir. Um... (DOOR OPENS)

What is it, Constable?

Uh, nothing, sir. Oh.

Do you, um, want a cup of tea?

(SIGHS) Listen to me, Stalker.

No one is ever going to take you
seriously as a police officer

if you act like a
tea-lady, do you hear me?

Yes, sir. Thank
you, sir. (CHUCKLES)

Milk and two sugars.

Commissioner.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

I said, "Who do you want?

"Agatha Christie or
Mervyn Cocker-Norris?

"Anyone can do her,
but only I can do me."

GIO: Stronzo.
(MUTTERS INDISTINCTLY)

MERVYN: The Mousetrap in
the house style, as it were.

I'll take the bare
bones of the story,

a rather mundane tale of child
abuse, and make it my own.

Here we are.

Oh. These aren't
together, sir.

Oh.

Well, we can cover
more ground that way.

Keep your eyes peeled.

Yes, sir.

(AUDIENCE CHATTERING)

(ROUSING MUSIC PLAYING)

STOPPARD: Cheers.

(MUSIC FADES)

SHEILA: (AS MOLLIE) Hello?

Hello?

Is anyone there?
(PHONE RINGING)

MRS. BOYLE: Who's calling
at this late hour?

MOLLIE: Yes?

All right then.

That was Scotland Yard.

They're sending
out an inspector.

In this unseasonable blizzard?

What on Earth for?
(MOLLIE SCREAMS)

(GASPS) MAJOR
METCALF: Good Lord.

MOLLIE: Inspector.

DICKIE: (AS
TROTTER) Thank you.

Good evening.

I am Detective Sergeant Trotter.

Please excuse the limp.

An old war wound
playing up in the cold.

I'm assuming you were
warned of my arrival?

Apropos of nothing,
I'm a magistrate.

Also, he looks too young
to be an inspector.

Well, I'm old enough to
remember the Corrigan Case.

Yes, a dreadful business.

Two brothers who put their faith
in the British social services.

A sorry tale of abuse
that ended in tragedy.

Yes, it was in
all of the papers.

MERVYN: (SOFTLY) Gio, I
can't sit through this again.

I'm sorry. Will you excuse me?

TROTTER: One died, the
other left traumatized.

I shudder to think what
an ordeal like that

might do to a vulnerable mind.

(WHISPERS) Won't be a moment.

I'm just going to
try and catch Mervyn.

MOLLIE: Oh, bother.
I forgot the tea.

TROTTER: By God,
that has to be

the worst cup of
tea I've ever had.

(AUDIENCE CHUCKLES)

MRS. BOYLE: I agree.

Did you make it in a
teapot or a plant pot?

STOPPARD: Pardon me.

Excuse me. Thank you.
Sorry. MOLLIE: Oh, dear.

Pardon me. Excuse me. Sorry.

MOLLIE: I've already had
another disaster in the kitchen.

I left out the steak pieces
in my steak and kidney pie.

Gloves.

MOLLIE: Kidney pie just doesn't
have the same ring to it.

Sorry. Excuse me. Pardon me.

Excuse me. Terribly sorry.

Bleeding gloves. I'm so sorry.

There they are. Thank you.

Sorry. Sorry. Terribly sorry.

MAJOR METCALF: I'm
beginning to think

it was a dreadful
mistake to skip lunch.

STOPPARD: Excuse me.

MOLLIE: I'll open
a tin of peas.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

ANNOUNCER: (ON RADIO) We
interrupt Book at Bedtime

to warn residents in the
Colney Hatch area of London

to be on the lookout
for an escaped lunatic.

(SWITCH THUDS) (GASPS)

(SWITCH THUDS) Hmm.

(WHISTLING THREE BLIND MICE)

(GASPS)

(SIGHS IN RELIEF)
You startled me.

(GASPS, CHUCKLES)
You startled me.

(OMINOUS MUSIC PLAYING)

(CHOKES) (MRS.
BOYLE GASPS, GRUNTS)

(MERVYN GRUNTS)

(STRAINING)

(BOTH CHOKING)

(MERVYN GRUNTS)

(MUSIC RISING)

(DRAMATIC END NOTE PLAYING)

(MUSIC FADES)

Turn the lights on.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING)
(SWITCHES CLICKING)

(SCREAMS)

(AUDIENCE APPLAUDING)

(DOOR OPENS)

(AUDIENCE CHATTERING)

(WOMEN SCREAMING)

(TENSE MUSIC PLAYING)

Stop in the name of the law!

(GRUNTS) Bollocks!

(INDISTINCT CHATTER)

DICKIE: Well,
that's a good thing.

The limp, was it
too much? (GRUNTS)

Oh. Oh, God.

Oh, sorry, sir. I thought
you were somebody else.

No, no, it's all right.

And thank you for the tickets.

Very welcome.

(MUSIC HALTS)

(CAT MEOWING IN DISTANCE)

(STALKER YELLS)

(THUMP)

(GASPING)

(GROANS)

(EERIE MUSIC PLAYING)

(FOOTSTEPS CRUNCHING ON
SNOW) (SOFT ANIMALS' CALLS)

(BOTTLES CLINK)

(RATTLING)

(SIGHS)

LEO: There ya go.

Bottoms up.

Cheers.

(EERIE MUSIC CONTINUES)

What brings you to
this neck of the woods?

Oh, a murder investigation.

Yeah? Anyone I know?

You.

(MUSIC HALTS)

(SWALLOWS)

I'm sorry, I thought...

No, no, no. It's all right.
It's all right. Uh...

Say, uh, Inspector.

Tell me, was anyone, uh...

you know, sad to see me go?

Ah.

Figures.

I'm sorry, sir, you
can't go in there.

Ah...

You can only go in
if you have a ticket.

I had a ticket. It
was in my pocket.

That's... I could have sworn
I had on a pair of trousers.

I had trousers on.

Where's my ticket?

(SIGHS) I'm sorry, sir.

I can't let you in
unless you have a ticket.

I had a ticket. I just
don't have it on me.

Let me in! Stop mucking about.

I've gotta go in.
No, please, sir.

(MAN WHISTLING
THREE BLIND MICE)

You. I know you.

What are you doing?

(TENSE MUSIC PLAYING)

STALKER: Sir. Sir.

(MUSIC STOPS)
I've got a ticket!

The hell is going on?

What am I doing here?

What happened to my trousers?

You asked me to press them, sir.

I did?

Yes, sir. You were adamant.

How long have I been here?

Eighteen hours.

(GROANS)

(GRUNTS) My head
is killing me.

It's bloody freezing in here.

Did you make an arrest?

We did.

Who was it? Was it Gio?

Gio?

Yeah, Gio. The... The
Italian chap, the killer.

The man in a darkish
overcoat, soft felt hat...

I chased out the theater.

Inspector, that man was you.

What?

You are the man in
the darkish overcoat

and the soft felt hat that
Constable Stalker here

chased from the theater.

I'm sorry, I'm not following.

I think I might
have a concussion.

Or the shakes?

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

STOPPARD: No, this
is ridiculous.

What possible reason

could I have for
strangling a playwright?

I haven't seen
anything he's done.

No, but Mervyn saw the woman who
visited Kopernick at the Savoy.

So?

Inspector, have you
spoken to Joyce lately?

Joyce?

Your wife.

Ex-wife.

Yes. I met her once
at a police social.

A plain girl.

Very homely.

What does Joyce have
to do with anything?

Uh, her name was in Leo's
little black book, sir.

Oh, come on. You don't...

You don't seriously
think that Leo and...

COMMISSIONER: Didn't your
wife leave you for a Yank?

Leo was an American G.I.

Will you listen to yourselves?
You hear what you're sayin'?

Constable.

"They do it out
of revenge or rage

"because they have lost a loved
one and can't forgive or forget.

"So they just stew and fester

"until it all comes out in a
sudden, frenzied act of violence."

You wrote that down.

That was a private conversation.

Well, I thought it
could be important, sir.

STOPPARD: Unbelievable.

We found her.

Who? Joyce.

Joyce. Joyce is here?

Constable.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC
INTENSIFYING)

(MUSIC STOPS)

That's not my wife.

I'm sorry? I said
that's not my wife.

But it is your ex-wife.

Never seen that woman
before in my life.

But your name is Joyce?

Uh...

Well, it's a common
name. (CHUCKLES LIGHTLY)

'Course it is. Yeah.

COMMISSIONER: 'Course it is.

Well, Inspector, in
that case, I believe

you are owed an apology.

(GULPS) Constable.

Uh... Yes, sir. O' course.

I'm... I'm so sorry,
sir. I just...

I just got the wrong end of the
stick, and I have no excuse. I just...

I jumped to conclusions
again. I'm so sorry.

Commissioner, why don't you
run along back to the office,

look over the
quarterly accounts.

Let me handle the
murder investigation.

Inspector.

(WHISPERS) Sorry.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING)

WOOLF: It's Dickie and Sheila.

DICKIE: Hello, Woolf. Didn't
expect to see you here.

(HUMMING)

(DOORBELL RINGING)
Perhaps, it is

Miss Rams...
bottom. (MUMBLING)

Get that... (SIGHS)
(DOORBELL CONTINUES RINGING)

If you have broken down,

there is a garage not
15 miles from here.

(CHUCKLES) No, we're
here for dinner.

I don't think so, sir.

(CHUCKLES) This is
Winterbrook House?

The Christie residence?

It is.

Uh, we have an invitation.

We do, yes.

Richard Attenborough.
Friends call me "Dickie."

(WIND WHISTLING)

I do hope you
haven't traveled far.

MAN: Fellowes! Who is it?

No one, sir. Tinkers.
(FOOTSTEPS APPROACHING)

MAN: What, in this
unseasonable blizzard?

Come on, man. Open sesame.

Richard Attenborough.
Friends call me "Dickie."

Max Mallowan, eminent
archaeologist.

Good God, man,
you're frozen solid.

It's cold. It's
cold, yes. Come in.

Hello, Sheila Sim.
(CHUCKLES) Hello.

John Woolf. How do you do?

Ann Saville.

We're friends of
Petula. Spencer.

Oh, yes. I know
Choo. (CHUCKLES)

We thought we'd been
invited for dinner.

Yes, we received this,

but apparently, not from you.

Extraordinary.

You know who's going
to love this? Agatha.

It's just like one
of her confections.

She's in the kitchen now

trying to figure
out some new ending.

(SNICKERS) It helps to do
the dishes, apparently.

(ALL CHUCKLE)

Ooh, hello. Who else
didn't we invite to dinner?

Ah, it's Petula.

Why, so it is.

Come in out of the cold, Choo!

What on Earth have
you got there?

It's not Mother, is it?

PETULA: 'Fraid so.

Oh, God.

Better make that eight
for dinner, Fellowes,

and let Agatha know. Yes, sir.

And get a shovel
to clear the path.

Yes, sir.

And do we have enough coal?

Yes, sir. Three
bags full, sir.

PETULA: Hello, Maxie.
Hello, darling.

Oh, it's a full house.

(SHEILA CHUCKLES) Yes.

Mother.

Come on in. Straight
through to the drawing room.

PETULA: Here. MAX: Now,

I have a rather potent
Mesopotamian aperitif

that'll have you
thawed out in a jiffy.

(DOOR CLOSES)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

I'm sorry again that you
had to find out like this.

Oh, I can't say it
came as a surprise.

Leo was a bad seed.

Always in trouble, he was.

He picked a fight the
night he took us out.

Mmm. Mervyn Cocker-Norris
at the hotel.

No. At the pictures.

Oh.

He turned on this tall
fella who came in after us

and shouted,

"What are you following
me for, buddy?"

And, um... (SCOFFS)

Did he know a good dentist,

'cause he was about to
lose a lot of teeth.

Hmm.

Right, who's ready for a top-up?

GUESTS: No.

Where's the old girl?

Not gonna play the
recluse card, is she?

Oh, no, no, no. She'll
be down soon enough.

(CLATTERING UPSTAIRS)

That will be Fellowes.

The man's an oaf.

A tall fella, you
say? JOYCE: Mmm.

Had a funny accent.

Italian?

No, not that funny.

More like...

a village idiot.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC CONTINUES)

I'm sorry, but you
have to get out.

(DOOR THUDS)

Oh. No. Good
heavens. No. Uh...

Che cosa succede? (FUMBLING)

Poli... Polizei.

Telefono, por favor.

Telefono? Yes. Si.

Sta la. Gracias.

(PHONE RINGS)

Scotland Yard, Sergeant
Bakewell speaking.

Yes, Stoppard here.

Police, stand back.

He keeps a key...
(STALKER GRUNTS)

under the mat.

(PANTS)

BAKEWELL: Let me
guess, Inspector.

You're after an address.

How did you know that?

Constable Stalker, sir.

She called just now for
the same information.

Stalker?

(WOMAN WHIMPERING)

Agatha?

Gosh, is she all right?

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC
INTENSIFYING)

(MUSIC BUILDING UP)

(MUSIC ENDS)

Where's Agatha? What
have you done with her?

It was the usher, sir. I know.

He was under our
noses all this time.

Is he in? No, sir.
But I found this.

If we get going
now, sir, we can...

I can take it from
here, Constable.

Oh, right. And... And me, sir?

Go back to the station.

Yes, sir.

Oh, and, Constable?

Yes, sir?

Make a start on the paperwork.

Yes, sir. (CAR DOOR CLOSES)

(CAR DEPARTS)

(PANTING)

(UNNERVING MUSIC PLAYING)

(SOFTLY) Is it me, or does
he look awfully familiar?

It's Dennis. He's an
usher from the Ambassadors

Oh, Dennis!

So nice to see you.

This is a strange coincidence.

What are you doing here?

Well, I invited you.

Oh, my God.

You killed Leo and Mervyn!

I did.

I wanted to stop the
film and the play.

What film? What play?

The Mousetrap! (ALL GASP)

Now, look here, Dennis.

We all have strong
opinions on the theater.

In a sense, that's
what it's there for,

to provoke emotion.

And I appreciate you don't
care for The Mousetrap.

I'll be the first to admit
it's not exactly Hamlet.

But you must see

that this is a bit
of an overreaction.

That's not what this is.

Then, what... what is this?

It's not your story to
tell, is it? It's mine.

PETULA: Oh, I
might have known.

A disgruntled writer.

Don't tell me, you
had the idea first?

No. It happened to me.

I'm sorry, I am completely lost.

I don't have a
theatrical background.

You're not Dennis
Corrigan, are you?

(HUFFS)

Oh, you poor boy.

How do you mean?

He lost his brother
in real life.

Dreadful business, it was.

It was years ago, now.
I told you about it.

It was the case The
Mousetrap was based on.

Inspired by,
Mother. And loosely.

Oh, but you're an usher.

You had to watch that
play night after night.

It must've been torture.

I thought it would help.

He was only six when
he died, my brother.

The Mousetrap is actually
based on a real-life case.

DENNIS: Neglected and left
for dead by the people

who were supposed
to look after us.

It sold a lot of newspapers,
but no one cared about us.

(SLOW DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING)

I thought the play
would be different.

A famous writer was
going to tell our story.

Two brothers who put their faith
in the British social services.

DENNIS: But when I saw what
Agatha Christie had done,

used our pain and suffering as a
motive for a deranged killer...

(GASPS)

my brother's death reduced
to a cheap sideshow...

There's been a murder?

DENNIS: I knew he
wouldn't be able

to rest in peace
until the play ended.

But it didn't.

It just went on, and on, and on.

The Mousetrap is 100, not out.

DENNIS: When I heard
about the film adaptation,

I just snapped.

Without me, there is no
movie. You understand?

You got a problem, buddy?

DENNIS: I killed the
director to stop the film,

and thought a corpse on the stage
would put an end to the play.

(SCREAMS)

But they didn't even
close the theater.

Do you think you might
be finished in time

for curtain up tomorrow night?

DENNIS: And Mervyn's
new ideas for the film

made me sick to my stomach.

I'll take the bare
bones of the story,

a rather mundane tale of child
abuse, and make it my own.

DENNIS: He left me no choice.

(GASPS)

(SIGHS IN RELIEF)
You startled me.

DENNIS: I had to
kill him, too.

(CHOKING)

I thought that would
be the end of it.

But you all just carried on
like nothing had happened.

Shame on you. (WOOLF WHIMPERS)

(PETULA CLEARS THROAT)

Well, maybe you'll take notice if
I kill Agatha Christie herself.

(MUFFLED GRUNTING)

Oh, I think she's
tryin' to say something.

Oh, for God's sake, let her out.

I'll stop the film.

And the play.
This is barbaric.

Fine.

(ALL GASP)

(SIGHS)

WOOLF: Edana?

Darling, what... what
are you doing here?

I followed you.

I suppose I was going
to make a scene.

Hello, Ann. (ANN MUMBLES)

Then this beanpole assaulted
me, and I woke up in a carpet.

If you're not Agatha Christie,
where the hell is she?

Good God, man. You
mean you don't know?

What kind of a bumbling,
half-witted psychopath are you?

Will you be quiet! Please!

Let me think!

Yes, of course! Of
course. Why don't you...

Why don't you come in and
sit down, Dennis? Um...

PETULA: Yeah, yeah, yeah.

Have a little
moment to yourself.

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYS)

(INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING)

(MUSIC HALTS) (WIND HOWLING)

(ENGINE ROARING)

(INTENSE MUSIC RESUMES)

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

(SIGHS)

(MUSIC FADING)

(SIGHS)

(MOUTHING) What?

Uh, well... Um...

I, for one, believe that, uh,

Dennis here is owed an apology.

(ALL MURMUR IN
AGREEMENT) MAX: Yes.

SHEILA: He... He's
right, of course.

The truth is the truth.

It is not to be
manipulated or played with,

and certainly not
for entertainment.

No, no. PETULA: No, no, no.

SHEILA: Art is supposed
to reveal the truth...

ANN: Yes. GROUP: Yeah.

SHEILA: not pervert it.

How would Agatha
Christie like it

if someone took
one of her stories

and twisted it and corrupted it

just for the hell
of it? (CHUCKLES)

(GROUP MURMURS)
MAX: She wouldn't.

I... I think that
we should all feel

thoroughly ashamed of ourselves.

AGATHA: Oh, here we
are. Tea for everyone.

MAX: There you are, my dear.

AGATHA: Sorry to
have kept you.

No, no, please don't get
up, not on my account.

There, there.

No, no, no,

no, no, it's fine. Be careful.

AGATHA: Just as it was.
I think it was that way.

It is so nice to see
you again, Agatha,

in spite of the circumstances.

No, no, no, not that one.

No, that's for
Dennis. (CHUCKLES)

(CUPS RATTLING)

It is Dennis, isn't it?

There we are.

I put an extra
lump in. (CHUCKLES)

Thank you.

Everyone else, help themselves.

(GROUP MURMURS) (AGATHA SIGHS)

Now, Dennis.

How can I help?

Why don't we sit here
and drink our tea

and discuss the matter
like civilized people, hmm?

I want you to stop
The Mousetrap.

Oh, I am sorry, but
that I cannot do. No.

I'm afraid it goes against
everything I hold dear in life.

Yes. I'm a writer, you see.

I can't be told what to
write or what not to write.

It would be a denial
of one's freedom.

Do you see, Dennis?
Hmm? Do drink up.

(INTENSE MUSIC PLAYING)

Oh, good God, Fellowes.

Get up. Get up.

Now, look here, young man, I...

(GROUP GASPS) AGATHA: Max!

(SCREAMS)

(GLASS SHATTERS)

(INTENSE MUSIC CONTINUES)

(TIRE POPS)

(TIRES SCREECHING)

Yes, good idea...
Oh. MAX: Yes.

Oh, my God. Now
what's happened?

(SUSPENSEFUL MUSIC PLAYING)

(AGATHA WHIMPERING) Oh.

Dennis.

Put the popular author
down, please, Dennis.

No. (GROANS)

(BOTTLE POPS OPEN)

Sheila, darling,
now's hardly the time.

SHEILA: Dickie,
I need a light.

But you don't smoke.

(WHISPERS) Dickie.

(MUSIC INTENSIFYING)

(AGATHA SCREAMS)

(GROANING)

(GUN CLICKING)

(GRUNTING)

(MUSIC BUILDING UP)

(GUNSHOT) (STALKER GRUNTS)

(STOPPARD GROANS) (GUN COCKS)

STALKER: Look out!

STOPPARD: No, Dennis!

(GRUNTING) Don't
do it, please!

(AGATHA GRUNTS)

(GROWLING)

MAX: Darling!

(AGATHA WHIMPERS)
It's all right.

He's dead. It's over.

Sir...

I'm bleedin'.

Hang in there, Constable.

Sergeant's exam's in a month.

It's funny, sir. I actually...
I don't feel anything.

I think it mighta
just been a nick.

Yeah. Just the nick
of time, I'd say.

(CHUCKLES) Very good.

(CHUCKLES) I'm
sorry, Constable.

I haven't been
altogether honest or open

or loyal or fair to
you as a partner.

Truth be told, I haven't been
a partner at all, you know.

Sir, you don't have to say that.

No, I want you to know...

I do trust you.

Thank you, sir. That
does mean a lot.

Um, but when I say that
I can't feel anything,

I think what I mean is that, um,

I don't think the
bullet hit me, sir.

What do you mean?

Did you, um...

STOPPARD: Oh, I see.
STALKER: Oh, no. Yeah.

Oh. Well, you're right
again, Constable.

Are you all right, sir?

I think you better
call an ambulance.

Yep.

Yes, I don't feel so good.

A shoot-out and a big explosion.

Perhaps it's for the best that
Mervyn wasn't alive to see it.

Quite.

(DRAMATIC MUSIC PLAYING)

(MUSIC ENDS)

It's okay, everyone,
I'm... I'm fine.

(FOLK SONG PLAYING)

LEO: Now that's what I call
a Leo Kopernick ending.

But before we go
our separate ways,

you'll be wanting to know what
became of the heroes of this tale.

Constable Stalker,
as advertised,

sat her sergeant's exams
in the spring of 1953.

(SONG CONTINUES PLAYING)

She aced them.

Detective Inspector
George Stoppard.

LEO: Inspector
Stoppard was awarded

the King's Police and
Fire Services Medal.

COMMISSIONER: Oh.

LEO: Harrold Scott
received a Knighthood.

(CAMERA FLASHBULB POPPING)

The play, if you can believe it,

is still going strong
in London's West End.

Over 10 million people have
sat through The Mousetrap.

TROTTER: Two brothers
who put their faith

in the British social services.

A sorry tale of abuse
that ended in tragedy.

Well, now that
you've seen our film,

you are an accomplice to murder.

And so we ask you to remember that
it is very much in your interest

not to tell a soul
outside of this...

Shh. Sir. Sorry.

But I've missed the endin' once.

I don't wanna miss it again.

No, of course not.
I'm sorry. Sorry.

(SHUSHES SOFTLY)

(SONG ENDS)

(UPBEAT MUSIC PLAYING)

(JAZZ MUSIC PLAYING)