Original subtitles

Why did I ever start this lousy competition?

Because the firm needed publicity, you said.

Why?

Aren't we getting enough entries?

Yeah, too many.

And too awful.

Who does the preliminary reports?

I do.

Yes.

You can usually tell after the first page.

Yeah.

How did you let that slide?

One through, Edna.

It seemed impossible.

What about the...

The entrance fees, will they...

Will they cover the £5,000 prize?

Oh yes, and more.

Enough to keep me in silk underwear for

a while.

You look sensational in or out of silk

underwear.

That's what my Graham used to say.

Poor Graham.

What a way to go.

Yes, well, he was accident prone.

These are possibles.

Read on, Macduff.

Oh, hell.

Mr. Oates's office.

It's Mrs. Oates.

Is he there?

Yes, he is.

Just one moment, please.

Your wife, sir.

Hello.

Darling, are you very busy?

Yes, very.

What is it?

Dinner tonight.

Dinner?

Oh, darling, don't say you've forgotten.

Dr. Mellish is coming.

Well, I'll be home, I suppose.

Yes, but Sandra isn't well.

Who the hell is Sandra?

His wife, darling.

So his wife's ill.

Does that mean you have to bother me

at the office?

Well, couldn't you think of someone else?

A woman to make up the foursome.

I mean, after all the trouble I'm taking...

What trouble?

The meal I'm going to cook.

Fillet mignon en croute.

En what?

Croute.

Pastry.

I've tried the family, but no luck.

That's because they know you're cooking.

That's quite funny, but I hope it isn't

true.

Oh, can't you think of someone, Walter?

Not offhand.

I don't know any other women.

What about that new...

What's her name?

Mrs...

Tewes something.

Mrs. Tewsler.

Yes, what about her?

I mean, at a pinch.

Yes, Jane?

What about her?

I mean, if she's presentable.

Oh, yes.

She's presentable, all right.

Well, then couldn't you ask her?

It's not unimportant.

After all, you did think Dr. Mellish might

invest in your company.

Hold on, I'll see what she says.

Mrs. Tewsland!

Oh, Mrs. Tewsland!

Ah, there you are, Mrs. Tewsland.

I know it's short notice, but my wife

is...

Well, she needs a fourth for dinner tonight.

Our doctor's coming and his wife can't.

I wonder, could you possibly...

Are you free?

Well, sir, actually, my mother was expecting me,

but...

Ah, you can't put her off.

Well, sir...

Jane?

I'm sure I can, if it would help

your wife out.

Oh, that's great.

Walter?

Jane?

She says yes, she can.

Oh, good.

Thank her very much, will you?

So, when are you going to tell her?

Tell her who, what?

Your wife.

About us.

Well, not tonight, for goodness sake.

What's up, huh?

Our doctor, then?

No, of course not.

But you promised...

Just give me a little time!

I'll get rid of her.

Get rid of her?

What on earth do you mean?

You've sent shivers down my spine.

I'll do more than that.

What do you mean, Walter?

I meant I'd divorce her.

What else would I mean?

Well, since I am acknowledged, am I not,

as being an expert on murder thrillers, it

surely isn't strange that I should be a

member of the jury.

Of course not, Walter.

It's just a matter of time.

I suppose that Jane says you're rather overdoing

it lately.

Working half the night, and not always answering

the phone.

Well, even after Mrs Tucson sifts the wheat

from the chaff, that leaves a hell of

a lot of entries to read.

It takes concentration.

And I still have the publishing side to

run.

It's a full-time job, I can tell

you.

Especially if Jane is to be kept in

the manner to which she's accustomed.

Let me give you a hand, Mrs Davies.

Oh, it's very kind.

Oh, this competition.

Oh, it'll never end.

Not until the deadline.

A friend of mine, Reggie Perrett, the barrister,

I was asking him the other day why

so many wife murderers were small, insignificant chaps.

What did he say?

Black or white, Mrs Tucson?

Just a tinge of milk, please.

He said that as a breed, they tended

to be husbands who bottled up their emotions

and frustrations over the years and then flew

off the handle.

Sugar?

Yes, please.

Brown or white?

Brown, please.

But I expect the chaps who write for

your competition aren't really interested in reality, eh?

It's more James Bond stuff, right?

Sorry to disappoint you, Herr Doktor.

Coffee, Dr Manage.

Thank you, yes.

But their creators are just like their characters.

Insurance men, bank clerks, civil servants, doctors.

They suffer in silence for years, and then

suddenly something snaps.

Now, hang on a minute.

Is this fact or fiction?

Fiction.

Do you know what I'm thinking of?

Thank you, my dear.

Yes.

Fiction, or...

...or rather what they dream of.

Burial in the middle of the night in

the cabbage patch.

But they don't fool anybody.

That's why I call them midnight gardens.

Midnight gardens?

How to get rid of your wife.

Bop her on the head and bury her

in the vegetable patch on the stroke of

midnight.

Bond.

No, that wouldn't even fool Jane.

Well, I know the rules of our competition,

and I must say I find it very

difficult to think of anything.

Yes.

No psychopaths allowed.

No crimes of passion, no killing in self

defence.

And what does that leave?

Murder premeditated.

That's the only murder one's likely to get

away with.

Coffee, Walter?

And to win the competition, it must be

foolproof.

No, thank you.

But what if the police suspect in the

storey?

Oh, yes, yes, suspects, all right, but they

must be unable to prove anything.

That's the whole point of the competition.

Otherwise, no £5,000.

Of course, it could be happening now.

What do you mean, Jane?

Poison in the coffee, that sort of thing.

Well, that's as original as using a blade

of ice as a dagger or electrical fire

in the bath.

And there'd have to be a motive.

What, like that bit of bloody tough beef

that Jane cooked tonight?

Yes, well, I'm sorry about that.

Hardly a motive for murder.

Or else there'd be a lot of dead

housewives.

Or a lot of dead butchers.

Yes.

Besides, premeditated can't mean in half an hour.

I think Mr Oates was joking.

Walter.

Joking?

I tell you what, darling.

Why don't you write a storey?

What?

Why don't you enter the competition?

What are you talking about?

You are the expert.

Well, thank you for the compliment, but I

do happen to be on the jury.

Well, couldn't you stand down?

Who'd replace me?

Do they need to replace you?

Three judges are surely enough.

I think it's a very good idea.

Yes.

Why not have a go?

Oh, yes, darling, you know all the plots.

I'm sure you could come up with something

really original.

I could help you, perhaps.

Well, I do know all about South American

poisons with no antidote.

And embolism by injection.

Oh, that sounds painful.

Yeah.

Yes, I'll have a go.

I'll resign from the jury and have a

go at winning my own competition.

Of course, if you did win, it could

smell of malpractice.

No, no, no, I'll use a pseudonym.

And then the jury won't know which is

my entry.

Fair enough.

And I must be thinking of going home.

It looks like I'll be extra busy in

the office tomorrow.

Perhaps I can give you a lift, Mrs

Tewsley?

Oh, thanks, but I wouldn't dream of breaking

up such a nice evening.

I'll get you a taxi.

We have a number.

I do hope it's nothing serious with your

wife, Doctor.

No, no, just a bad back.

It gives out from time to time.

Hello, yes, my code number is W03635.

I'd like a taxi, please, to 23 Upper

Sheen Avenue.

Yes, the account is in the name of

Stanley Strange Limited.

Yes, to go to 14A Fair Hazel Mansions.

Northwest one, yes.

As soon as you can.

Thank you.

Hello.

Oh, no.

No, no, no, I've had to give up

the jury, Lark.

Yes, too busy sifting the wheat from the

chaff.

Yes, yes, of course.

Hang on.

Edna.

Yes.

Yes, I have.

Yes, I've got there.

Thank you.

What'll I do with the chaff?

Same as with the wheat.

Pick one out of 50 and bung it

to the jury, of which I am no

longer one, then chuck the rest in the

bin.

That'll do.

Now, if I can have a bit of

peace round here, I can get on with

that £5,000.

And then?

And then what?

You and me.

What, on £5,000?

You must be joking.

They'll be lapped up like a cat with

a saucer of milk.

Oh, you know that wasn't what I meant.

I want you to keep your promise.

Edna.

Don't get heavy.

Listen.

I fell in love with you.

You fell in love with me.

What's wrong with going on the way we

are?

We?

It's fine for you.

You know that Jane holds the money bags.

This has to be played with finesse.

Well, you'll have to hurry the finesse.

Because I'm pregnant.

I see.

You're going to ask me how do I

know it was you.

Well, how do you know it was me?

So you're that sort of bastard.

Darling.

You scared me.

I heard you come in.

Do you know it's after two?

Yes, I had a bit of trouble with

my storey.

I was reading something very interesting in the

paper this morning.

Yawn, yawn.

No, seriously, it was very intriguing.

Well, actually, I've got to go.

I can see nothing is going to stop

you.

It was to do with anthrax spores.

Yes, well, the public health people know all

about those.

Yes, but if a chap cultivated, well, say,

orchids in his greenhouse and contaminated the soil

with anthrax spores...

Hang on, hang on.

Where's he going to get them from?

He works at Porton.

Porton?

Porton Down Research Station, chemical warfare.

You're asking our jury to believe that this

chap who just happens to work at Porton

just happens to grow orchids and he just

happens to bring home a sample of poisoned

soil.

Why?

To kill his wife.

No, not very likely.

I see now.

Oh, look.

Go back to bed, will you?

Let me get on with it.

Yes, of course.

Sorry.

Good night.

Bloody woman.

Perfect.

Jane!

And again, nice and gently.

And out.

If I can just have you around this

way.

Mm-hm.

Nothing to worry about.

Overwork.

A touch of indigestion.

A bit too much of the hard stuff,

perhaps.

Just try to take it easy.

Stick to water and you'll be as right

as rain.

Of course, Jane will look after you.

You know, I've never understood what is particularly

right about rain.

Oh, for God's sake, stop trying to be

so bloody clever.

I'm sorry, darling, I was only trying to

cheer you up.

Thank you.

Mm-hm.

He will be all right.

Oh, yes, if he takes care of himself,

yes.

Get into bed now and don't worry.

I'll open again later.

Thank you very much.

I nearly didn't come in today.

I'm fed up with you and your promises.

Oh, Miss, you must...

Ah!

And how long have you and your husband

been patients of Dr Manish?

Since we moved here.

Um, five years.

But the doctor said nothing to you of

any serious illness in your husband.

Nothing, no.

Oh, the usual.

He drank a bit too much.

He's working too hard, you know.

Yes, yes, of course.

Do you know if your husband took any

drugs, Mrs Oates?

Drugs?

Walter?

He thought...

He thought aspirin should be on prescription.

You really will have to ask Dr Manish

about that sort of thing.

Yes, yes, of course.

Mrs Oates tells me that Mr Oates was

in the habit of staying late in the

office almost every night.

Well, I always left shop at 5.30.

What would keep him late, would you say?

Almost every night, I mean.

Work, I suppose.

Oh?

It's hardly a hive of industry.

Was it?

He was writing a storey.

Oh.

Takes long, does it?

Writing storeys?

Depends.

Yes, I suppose it does.

The only storey we found here was one

on anthrax spores.

It's not bad.

You could say a lot of coincidences, but

I like the general style.

Would you say that Mr Oates was, generally

speaking, in physically good shape?

You'd better ask his doctor about that, hadn't

you?

Oh, I shall.

I shall.

Bring me some champagne, Vincenzo.

Si, signora, subito.

Oh, and bring two glasses, why not?

Si, signora.

Ah.

It's from Edna.

You seemed in such a hurry to get

away after the inquest and the open verdict

on poor Walter.

Everybody fussing round you with their sympathy.

It made me quite sick.

He loved me and wanted to marry me.

I suppose you guessed about us, even before

that night at the dinner party, when he

ordered me a taxi and knew my address

by heart.

He only stayed with you for your money.

I know that wasn't Walter's storey they found

on his desk, the one about the anthrax

spores.

Walter's idea involved injections of a drug that

induces a heart attack and can't be detected.

They'd have jumped on me if I'd said

I knew, and I'm not such a fool

as people think.

I know that's how Walter died, and I

know who was responsible.

What I'd like to know is, after you

substituted your storey for Walter's, which was so

ingenious, the perfect murder, he would have won

the prize for it.

How you got your hands on the drug

and injected it into him.

Darling, I thought you were never going to

get here.

Discretion, my love, if I had followed you

too soon.