What's all this?
You may choose, members of the jury,
to believe the prisoner -
that returning from a walk,
he found the hanging Mrs McGinty
and was about to release the rope
when Police Constable Wells
appeared on the scene.
On the other hand, you may think
the accused intended
to cover manual strangulation
of Mrs McGinty
for motives of greed,
with clumsy attempts to make
his mean crime appear to be suicide.
Madam, either
you will have to cease knitting
or I will have to cease judging,
which shall it be?
It helps me to concentrate, m'lord.
- It does not help me, madam.
- Oh.
Very well.
Thank you.
Ah, yes.
If what I have said
is the truth of the matter,
then the prisoner was delayed in
the execution of his evil subterfuge
by the desperate fight of his victim.
Those scattered banknotes,
that pathetic crushed rose
torn from her dress...
He was delayed, I say, long
enough for the timely intervention
of the alert Police Constable Wells.
Summing up
for a conviction, Inspector.
- Stand you a beer afterwards, Wells.
- Thank you.
..had every opportunity
of knowing that the unfortunate widow
kept her life savings there
instead of in the bank
and that Harold Taylor was bent
on securing her meagre fortune.
If the facts as presented to you
admit of any reasonable doubt,
then the accused is entitled
to the benefit of that doubt.
Members of the jury,
if you have been convinced by the
evidence beyond all reasonable doubt,
that the accused
committed this heinous crime,
then it is your solemn duty
to return a verdict of guilty.
You will retire
and consider your verdict.
Might just have time
for that beer, Wells.
There's absolutely
no doubt in my mind he's guilty.
He was caught
red-handed by the policeman.
Prisoner at the bar,
have you anything to say...
Not yet, m'lord,
the jury is still out.
Surely the time is more appropriate
for a very dry Martini, Johnson?
Very good, m'lord.
- Not more tea?
- No. They're coming back.
Are you agreed upon your verdict?
No, sir.
What did you say?
We're not able to reach
an agreement, m'lord.
Silence. I will not have
my court turned into a bear garden.
I suggest you retire for longer.
I'm afraid
it would be a waste of time, my lord.
I see.
Very well. There will be
a retrial at a later date.
Jury dismissed.
If ever there was
an open and shut case, this was it.
One jury member
was deliberately perverse.
Many more than one,
Inspector, I assure you.
Oh?
That woman's made a mockery
of my one and only murder.
No! No! No, Mr Swanbridge!
You mustn't turn your back
on the audience.
I want them to see
the surprise on your face.
Allow me.
Just once more, Miss Rusty, please.
Right.
Ah, our lady president.
Carry on, please.
Try again.
Do please try harder, Mr Swanbridge.
My arm's getting awfully tired.
A little rough at the moment,
but it'll be all right on the night.
- Tea?
- No, thank you.
You found him guilty, of course.
They did. I did not.
Miss Marple, surely...
Remember our play for the renovation
fund, The Lodger's Dilemma?
Unforgettable.
You remember, Mr Stringer,
that the victim in that play
wore a rose to receive her paramour.
He murdered her
and the lodger was blamed.
Exactly. Mrs McGinty
wore a rose on the fatal night.
Oh!
Was it to receive her lodger
when we have no evidence
of any dalliance between them?
- I hardly think so.
- Then she wore it for someone else.
- Her murderer, you think?
- I do.
Excuse me, Mr Stringer.
I'm sorry, but he still keeps
turning away. What can I do?
We'll have to recast him.
I know, ask the vicar if
he'll be kind enough to have a try.
Yes.
If what you say is so, then an
innocent man's life may be at stake.
What can be done?
We can begin by inquiring
rather more closely
into the private life of Mrs McGinty
than the police have seen fit to do.
Yes, but how?
By returning to
the scene of the crime, as it were.
Oh, very good, vicar.
Excellent! Excellent!
Whoa!
Mr Stringer, if our plan works,
you're sure you know your part?
- Yes, I think so.
- Down! Down! You may be observed.
- Yes?
- I'm collecting...
I'm collecting jumble
for the church bazaar.
You're a Christian, surely?
- I should hope so.
- Well then?
If it's for the church,
there's plenty here.
Oh, thank you.
Got all her stuff here.
You've heard of my sister?
Yes, the poor lady.
I always thought she'd come to
a bad end - one of those theatricals.
Really? I thought she was a barmaid.
Oh, yes,
but she used to be on the stage.
Did it in there you know,
with his bare hands.
Gloved ones?
It comes to the same thing
in the end. This way.
She was always
sticking her neck out, that one.
She did leave you her cottage.
Didn't have time to arrange her will.
No, it would seem not.
Still I mustn't decry her,
my own sister.
Blood's thicker
than water I suppose.
Here's her stuff, nothing of value -
probably got it
from a jumble sale herself.
She used to swear
these rat-tails were mink.
I wouldn't be seen dead in this coat.
Can't imagine why she dressed
in rags when she had money.
A real little slut she was.
I remember when she was a kid -
always wanted to be an actress.
An actress, I ask you!
Mean, she was, you know, mean!
A touch of rheumatism.
I find this beneficial.
- Oh, really?
- Yes.
Try rubbing linseed
and vinegar into the joints.
- It makes a new woman of me.
- I'll bear that in mind. Thank you.
That'll be
the insurance man paying out...
They don't like it
when the unforeseen does occur.
Persistence, Mr Stringer.
Persistence. Foot in door.
- I hope you've brought it in cash.
- Brought what?
I don't want the same trouble
as when my John passed away.
- I don't understand.
- Aren't you from the insurance?
Oh, no, madam. I was hoping to
interest you in improving your mind.
I was wondering if you'd allow me
to show you the new Wonder book.
Do.
Come in, Mr... come in.
Murder She Said,
Murder She Said, Murder She Said.
This section on our feathered friends
is most comprehensive.
Everything
from an albatross to a shrike.
- A what?
- A shrike.
So named for its incessant chatter
and predatory instincts.
It has a habit of impaling its prey.
How interesting.
I've got a woman upstairs. I'll get
rid of her and we'll have some tea.
Please don't do that.
I can't trespass on your generosity.
Oh, dear, poor Mr Stringer.
Fancy me mistaking you for the
insurance man. You're much too nice.
- Oh, really?
- Well, of course you are.
You don't really
look like a salesman, do you?
- Don't I?
- No.
- So you're a bachelor, Mr Stringer?
- Er, yes.
Oh, I can always tell
and I'm a widow.
I'd never have believed it.
How do you do?
- I see you got what you wanted.
- Yes.
Perhaps the gentlemen
would care to help me with these?
- Indeed.
- Thank you.
I'll leave you the book, Mrs Thomas.
Brood on it, will you?
- What about the tea?
- Good day, Mrs Thomas.
So, you're a bachelor, Mr Stringer.
- Not staying to tea?
- Oh, no, Miss Marple.
Dear me,
the lady will be disappointed. Up!
Miss Marple, I assure you,
I gave that woman no encouragement.
It is of small importance,
Mr Stringer.
Good heavens, I've got it! Jim!
Look, there's the page
of the Milchester Gazette
I took from Mrs McGinty's room.
Here's the identical page
I got from the newspaper offices.
I've snipped out the same words
and letters and produced this.
A rose. A rose?
Milchester 862, please.
Is that Lady Cynthia Waterhouse?
Lady who?
No, this is Mrs Gladys Thomas.
I'm so sorry,
I have the wrong number.
As I thought. 862 is the telephone
number of Mrs McGinty's cottage.
I'm at a loss.
This type of message is typical
of a certain kind of criminal -
the blackmailer.
Yes, I think Mrs McGinty
may have been one.
- Dear me.
- Well, consider...
The Cosgood Players gave six
performances of Murder She Said
here in Milchester
in the week of May 12th to 19th;
The same week, incidentally,
as this issue of the Gazette.
Here we have six programmes.
Mrs McGinty
attended each performance.
- Why?
- It's an excellent play.
True, but her interest
was not primarily in the play,
former actress
though she may have been.
No, I am convinced
she was a blackmailer
and she was blackmailing
a member of this company.
- Her murderer, you suppose?
- I do.
- I think we deserve a small beer.
- Yes, please.
It's you, Inspector.
You gave me quite a turn.
You gave me
quite a turn, Miss Marple.
- May I come in?
- Well...
Yes.
It's Inspector Craddock, Mr Stringer.
Oh, how nice.
- Good evening, Inspector.
- Good evening.
Are you here socially
or officially, Inspector?
Well, a little bit of both
shall we say.
That poses an interesting problem.
Socially, I can
offer you a small beer.
Officially,
I cannot if you're on duty.
I...
All right,
Miss Marple, it's official.
Then perhaps some tea.
Won't you sit down?
Thank you, no. This won't take long.
We were playing anagrams, Inspector.
Miss Marple,
Police Constable Wells informs me
that he observed you this afternoon
at the late Mrs McGinty's cottage.
Oh?
You were impersonating
a rag-and-bone dealer.
I certainly was not.
- I was collecting for the church.
- Is that so?
If you don't believe me,
I suggest you ring the vicar...
..now!
Look, Miss Marple, in the past you've
been of some small help
to the police and we're grateful,
but at the trial you interfered
with the course of justice.
I'd feel a lot easier in my mind
and so would the Chief Constable,
if you would promise me here and now
not to continue to do so.
You can have that promise freely.
I have no intention of interfering
with the course of justice.
Yes.
Well, good.
- There's no more to be said then.
- No.
- I'll say good night.
- Good night.
Yes.
Perhaps we should have
confided our suspicions.
Certainly not.
That man has just
thrown down the gauntlet.
You know what the police are.
The month of September 1951...
This reference to a rose...
These things must have a great
significance for our man or woman.
I suppose so.
The difficulty is,
the Cosgood Players have moved on.
I read they were at
the Palace Theatre over at Halford.
There is no doubt in my mind
that one of these play actors
is a murderer.
If you're really convinced
of your theory,
I suppose we should
in some way, well, act.
Act!
Of course, why not?
That's what I must do.
After all, nothing ventured,
nothing gained.
Take our bags to the YMCA, Jim.
If I'm successful,
I'll collect mine from you later.
I think I ought to wait, Miss Marple.
No, this may take some time.
Au revoir.
All I know is that we had over 300
and now we've got nothing.
Where is it? It's a simple question.
- For simple-minded people.
- That's mine!
What's the use?
Ah, thank you.
Daddy's very democratic.
He doesn't mind who I marry.
You could have put that better!
If he's not asking for a pedigree,
you're fine, eh Bill?
You could have put that better too!
Oh! I was looking for Mr Cosgood.
Haven't I seen you before?
Really? I wonder where
that could have been?
- I'm not sure.
- Probably in another dimension.
Don't take any notice,
she's our weirdie.
No, it was in a dream...
she and you, George.
- Something to do with death.
- Oh, please, Eva. Can I help you?
I have an appointment
with Mr Cosgood.
He's probably messing about
on the stage. It's over there.
Oh yes, thank you.
I'll find him, young man.
Mr Cosgood!
Mr Cosgood!
Mr Cos.... oh!
- Are you Jane Marble?
- Marple, if you please.
- Very well, get on with it.
- It?
I have a performance
in half an hour.
Whatever you have
chosen to do, do!
Oh!
Throw your voice to the back of the
theatre. I want to hear you.
I can't catch what you say.
I want to hear every word!
Oh, very well.
The Shooting of Dan McGrew...
..by Mr Robert W. Service.
'A bunch of the boys were whooping
it up in the Malamute saloon
'The kid that handles the music-box
was hitting a jag-time tune
'And back at the bar...
'..in a solo game
sat dangerous Dan McGrew
'And watching his luck was his
light-o'-love, the lady known as Lou.
'When out of the night...
'When out of the night
that was fifty below
'And into the din and the glare,
'There stumbled a miner
fresh from the creeks
'Dog dirty and loaded for bear.'
Just give me the gist
and get to the climax!
Oh, dear me, that's very difficult.
It's a long poem
and there's a great deal behind it.
However, as you wish.
Well now... soon after the stranger
has entered this lurid scene,
it becomes increasingly evident
there is a growing antagonism
between him and Mr McGrew.
An antagonism which is to end
in stark tragedy.
Shall I pick it up at the point
when the miner,
seated at the saloon piano,
is playing like a maniac?
Yes, yes, please do.
Thank you.
'Then the stranger turned
'And his eyes they burned
in a most peculiar way
'ln a buckskin shirt
that was glazed with dirt he sat
'And I saw him sway
'Then his lips went thin
in a kind of grin
'And he spoke
and his voice was calm
'Boys, says he, you don't know me
and none of you care a darn...'
Yes, yes, yes,
but get to the point, please!
'But I want to state
and my words are straight
'And I'll bet my poke they're true
'That one of you is a hound of hell
'And that one is Dan McGrew
'Then I ducked my head
and the lights went out
'And two guns blazed in the dark
'And a woman screamed
'And the lights went up
and two men lay stiff and stark
'Pitched on his head and pumped full
of lead was dangerous Dan McGrew
'While the man from the creeks
'lay clutched to the breast
of the lady that's known as Lou
'I'm not as wise
as the lawyer guys
'But strictly between us two
'The woman who kissed him
and pinched his poke
'Was the lady that's known as Lou.'
Are you still there?
- You were joking, of course.
- Joking? Indeed, I was not.
Oh, then I am not joking
when I tell you
that if you persist
in joining our profession,
your wisest course is to register
at once for unemployment pay.
That will not be necessary.
I am of independent means.
- Dear lady, I didn't finish.
- You made your view quite clear.
No, no, no. I was about to say that
your performance had great merit.
Your choice of material let you down.
Yes, definitely duchess parts,
regal roles.
I see you with other material
performing like an angel.
Angel?
Is not that the term for
a backer of theatrical enterprises?
Droll, very droll.
I meant that you have a lot
to offer the theatre, Mrs Marble.
- Miss Marple!
- I'm delighted to hear that.
The marital knot is often the bolt on
the door to the room at the top.
Do I take it you are offering
me employment, Mr Cosgood?
Well, as to that,
not exactly employment.
I was thinking rather along
the lines of an apprenticeship.
Unpaid?
Well, in a word, yes.
I accept.
Splendid, splendid.
Welcome to the Cosgood Players.
Well, now as to lodgings,
I prefer to live
cheek by jowl with my colleagues.
Naturally. We're at Westward Ho,
Prescott Street.
Mrs Harris is an excellent landlady.
Good, well, I'll just pick up my
baggage at the YMCA. Au revoir.
- Cosgood...
- Drunk again!
Now look here, George...
This man is not drunk, Mr Cosgood.
He's dead.
Poisoned.
Poisoned?
Poisoned.
Arsenic, I'd say.
The autopsy will prove it.
Nonsense! He drank too much. It's
as plain as the nose on his face.
You say you were on the stage when he
came out from the dressing rooms?
Yes, Inspector.
The curtain is due up in ten minutes
and I now have two roles to play.
There'll be no curtain up today.
My audience will tear the place up!
We'll risk that.
I've got questions to ask.
- Questions? What about?
- A man is dead - it's usual.
Damned inconvenient.
- His dressing room?
- Number two.
Can't you get George off
the stage and come back later?
No, sir. Number two, you said?
- I knew something would happen.
- Really, miss?
Yes, I have premonitions
about these things!
Very interesting.
Well, I told George,
as soon as I saw that strange woman.
- What strange woman?
- The one who came to see Driffold.
- Driffold?
- Driffold Cosgood, Inspector, me.
What about her?
- Her?
- This strange woman.
I'd just auditioned her
when George interrupted.
- Is the lady here now, sir?
- She'll be somewhere...
- She seems to have gone.
- A name and description, Sergeant.
Now, sir,
any idea of this lady's name?
I've seen this before.
Not that one, Inspector, this one.
"Remember September 1951. A rose by
any other name would smell. Ring..."
Miss Marple! I distinctly asked you
not to interfere.
- Inspector, that strange woman is...
- Yes, Miss Marple.
Allow me.
Sergeant, escort her to headquarters
for a complete statement.
I'll see her later.
After you, Sergeant.
Sergeant, are you sure you didn't
mishear what Miss Marple said?
I did not, sir.
No, well. Will you come in please,
Miss Marple?
Almost a draw, Sergeant.
Well, please, sit down.
All right, Miss Marple,
let us suppose, just suppose,
that Mrs McGinty was blackmailing
one of those actors.
Let's say this was the actual
blackmail note she sent.
By all means, Inspector.
As it was lying beside the whisky
bottle in George's dressing room,
she must have sent it to him.
That does spring to mind.
- So she was blackmailing him.
- It would appear so.
If there's anything at all in what
you say, he murdered her.
On the face of it, yes.
Are we to suppose that in a belated
fit of remorse he poisoned himself?
- Perhaps.
- Or did someone else poison him?
Again, perhaps.
Inspector, may I ask you a question?
Please do.
If you had simply found that note
in the victim's dressing room
and knew no more about it, what would
you have made of the affair?
The man was being blackmailed
and had decided to end it all.
Yes, that's what I thought.
It could be that the note was left on
purpose, so you would think that.
Miss Marple, it's been a long day.
What are you suggesting now?
I am suggesting that the murderer
of Mrs McGinty
and the murderer of George Rowton are
one and the same.
As to who murdered George Rowton,
I don't yet know... but I will.
As to who murdered Mrs McGinty,
I do know.
He is being held in Milchester jail
awaiting a retrial,
necessitated by the stubbornness
of a certain member of the jury.
He killed her for her money.
Ah, yes, that 100
that was found by her body...
Doesn't it occur to you, Inspector,
that it wasn't Mrs McGinty's savings
at all, but her pay-off?
So whoever she was blackmailing
brought the money, killed her,
then hearing the lodger,
left her behind in panic?
- No.
- Well then, what?
I propose that, like the note,
the money was left behind
deliberately.
What for?
Obviously so that the police
would leap to the conclusion
they have leapt to.
Miss Marple...
If I were you, I would examine
the bank accounts of these people
to see if one of them
happened to withdraw 100,
either on or about the time
of Mrs McGinty's death.
I will investigate your theories.
In the meantime, please go home
to Milchester and stay there.
I'm afraid that is
out of the question.
My work
will keep me here indefinitely.
Your work?
I have accepted an engagement
with the Cosgood Players
and a Marple's word
is her bond. Good day.
"Actor, playwright, impresario,
a man of many talents..."
Might have used a better photo.
It says here I'm 48!
Listen to this, "Lady Sheila,
stage-struck adopted daughter
of Lord Upward, and bride to be
of juvenile lead Bill Hanson, said" -
and I quote the quote -
"This doesn't alter our wedding
plans, daddy's very democratic."
Bully for daddy, eh Bill?
- Arthur, you're an absolute stinker.
- Crawl back under your stone.
It's all good stuff.
Absolutely no rubbish.
- Notoriety helps the box office.
- Too true.
Have you read this, Ralph?
"Ralph Summers,
matinee idol of Mother's Day,
now an ageing, overweight,
barmaid fancier."
Let me see that!
You're a nasty little joker.
I think that's very funny,
and so true.
That's a nice wifely thing to say.
Your taste does run to barmaids.
There was that one at Milchester.
- Remember...
- Shut up, Maureen!
- Yes, Mrs Harris?
- Your new one's here.
Dear lady, I feared we had created an
unfortunate impression on you
in view of today's accident.
Oh, no.
I had a little business to attend to.
Well, you're here.
Boys and girls, meet Miss Marple.
Miss Marple, the company.
- Hello
- How do you do, everyone.
There's cocoa on the tray.
The beer's extra.
Yes, of course, a nightcap.
Do sit down.
Name your poison, dear lady.
I mean...
Cocoa please, Mr Cosgood.
An excellent brew.
I can recommend it.
By the way,
the police are looking for you.
- Oh, yes, I have spoken to them.
- You have?
Thank you.
Why don't we revive A Kind Of Murder
as a tribute to George?
Well, Miss Marple
and Dorothy are perfect
for the two scheming sisters.
- I couldn't play a murderess.
- Couldn't you?
One of us could.
He or she's had practice.
What's that supposed to mean?
Well someone slipped a noxious
dose into old George's whisky...
..and that someone is in this room.
Oh, belt up!
Oh no, no, I'm not having this,
in front of a new colleague too.
There's no question of George being
murdered by a member of my company.
The whole thing is obviously
some ghastly mistake.
No, you're wrong.
One of us is a murderer
and you feel that too, don't you?
Well, my dear,
it's hardly for me to say.
- Stop it! Stop it!
- Bill!
Stop talking about it.
I can't stand it any longer.
You know. You know it was me.
You and your insinuations
and sarcasm.
- What do you mean?
- I'm going to finish you.
I'll close your big mouth
once and for all.
Bill!
Let go of me. Let me go!
- That had you going a bit.
- Well...
You know what your trouble is,
you can dish out jokes
but you can't take them.
- I think that was in very bad taste.
- Yes, so do I.
I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset
anybody but him.
Well, you've upset me.
For heaven's sake, I've had enough.
I'm going to bed.
I'm feeling a bit tired myself.
If I might be shown my room?
Oh, certainly, dear lady.
It's been a trying day.
Very trying indeed.
Florrie! Florrie!
So glad to be one of you.
Good night.
Mrs Harris will show you up.
Come on then, number ten, upstairs.
Thank you, Mr Cosgood. Good night.
You shouldn't take too much notice.
Strange lads, but their hearts
are in the right place.
I'm sure they are. Good night.
Good night, dear lady.
You'll soon feel at home.
We're all one big happy family.
I hope you know what you're doing,
dear boy.
You'll find this comfortable. He did.
- He?
- The deceased. You know, Mr Rowton.
Well, breakfast is at 8:30.
No cooking in the rooms.
Put a shilling in the gas if you're
cold. Don't waste the light.
No male callers upstairs.
Oh! Naughty pussy!
What are you doing in there?
Come along. Off you go.
Remember September?
Eva?
Yes?
What are you doing?
I couldn't sleep.
Why would that Marple woman want
to sneak out of the house so early?
How should I know?
Perhaps she's just eccentric.
She certainly looks it.
I wonder...
Oh darling,
you're not going all creepy are you?
Really, you could haunt a house.
I do wish you hadn't wakened me.
Now I'll start fretting again.
- Put it out of your mind.
- It's easier said than done.
Where can one go on honeymoon
these days? Everywhere is so old hat.
Hey, what do think about Moscow?
How can you care about that
after what happened?
Life must go on, darling,
George or no George.
Were you in love with him?
No... it was all over.
Was it?
Yes.
I hated him.
Don't worry, darling.
I won't tell anyone.
Mr Stringer!
What are you doing in that get-up?
Just training to get into peak
condition for any emergency.
Is there one already?
No emergency,
but a very interesting development.
Oh, do stop bobbing about
and come over here.
Remember September.
Not a date, a play
and by my new employer,
Driffold Cosgood himself.
- You do see the significance?
- No.
Well, follow me, Jim.
Follow me closely.
It seems to me that whomever
Mrs McGinty was blackmailing
must have had some connection with
the production of this play in 1951
and is with the Cosgood Company.
The author himself?
- Perhaps.
- How did you come by it?
- I found it on my pillow.
- What?
It was left there deliberately.
Then the murderer knows!
He's been on to you all the time!
He's playing cat and mouse with you.
- Two can play at that game.
- Miss Marple, I'm deeply disturbed.
Don't get yourself in a state.
I'm not in a state... I'm cold.
Oh, dear me.
There we are.
That's better, isn't it?
Tuck it well round.
Now...
What organisation
would be likely to keep a record
of all professional theatrical
productions?
The censorship people.
To be sure. The Lord Chamberlain's
Office in London.
I'd be obliged
if you would go there post-haste
and enquire into the history
of this play.
Where it was produced in 1951,
who was in it and so on.
It may have been played
in many theatres.
I hardly think so - I've read it.
Very well,
I'll take the next train up.
Good. To your task and I must fly.
I wish to be at the table
when they come down.
Away, away!
Thank you, Mrs Harris.
I seem to be a trifle early.
No, the others are a trifle late. Not
that I'm complaining.
If they're not down in time,
I've got six cats to feed.
Good morning, Florrie.
Good morning.
Good morning, good morning.
Good morning, Mr Cosgood.
- I trust you slept well?
- Like a toff, thank you.
Good, good.
Nothing like sleep for knitting up
the ravelled sleeve of care,
as the bard so aptly pointed out.
What's that you find so engrossing?
- Your play, Mr Cosgood.
- What?
This is your play?
Yes. Yes, it is.
- Where did you find this?
- In my room last night.
- Now isn't that extraordinary?
- Yes.
I assume poor George must have
borrowed it. Don't let me stop you.
I've finished reading it.
Ah well, let's see how the good
Florrie serves us today.
How do you find it?
- The kipper?
- The play.
Oh, I beg your pardon. The play.
I find it most interesting.
- How very gratifying.
- Has it ever been produced?
Oh, no.
I completed it only quite recently.
I see.
I have high hopes for it though.
Those must sustain you.
They do, dear lady. They do.
Ah, Ralph!
I was up half the night thinking.
I want to ask you a question.
- Oh?
- Yes.
Could you believe in Miss Marple
as a lady detective?
I don't know any lady detectives.
Maybe not, but what do you think?
She's hardly typecasting.
You're quite wrong. She's perfect.
- What are you getting at?
- I have an idea!
Keep the theatre closed till Monday,
let the publicity build up,
then reopen
with Out Of The Stew Pot.
That old potboiler!
A murder mystery! We've got
one of our own. Why not put one on?
You may have a thought here.
With Miss Marple
as the Honourable Penelope Brown.
Now I do see what you mean.
Yes, by Jove, it's brilliant!
- You're familiar with it of course?
- No.
A classic of its kind.
I'll fetch the scripts.
Ralph, call the theatre.
Tell them we're rehearsing all week.
Mr Cosgood!
I wouldn't think I'm anyone's idea of
a detective.
Not anyone's, Miss Marple,
but you're mine.
You're certainly mine.
And mine.
Spotlight!
Get it on me... and keep it on me.
Now you've all read the play.
Let me put you in the mood.
The scene is a filthy attic in Soho
in the very heart
of London's square mile of vice
and worse, a dim figure is flitting
about the stage - that's you, Bill.
You play Sidney,
assistant to Penelope Brown -
amateur criminologist -
that's you, Miss Marple.
Sidney is looking for something...
searching... searching...
searching...
A noise!
A step on the stair outside.
I, as the father, am about to enter
with my delinquent son, Stanley -
that's you, Arthur.
Arthur!
Sidney freezes, then darts
to the place of concealment.
Sorry, guv. Testing.
You're back!
All right,
don't stand about grinning!
Just testing indeed. Now where was l?
Ah, yes.
I come in with my son.
I beg him to tell the police all he
knows about Rona La Plante's death.
He sneers at me... rejects me.
Then the climax of the scene -
I detect a movement
behind the alcove curtain.
I cross to it,
pull it aside to reveal...
..Sidney!
- What do you want?
- A call for Miss Marple.
Why didn't you say so?
Miss Marple,
you're not in this scene.
Thank you.
Take it from my entrance.
Bill, you're concealed over here.
Arthur, you and I come in.
You're living here? A son of mine?
Hello?
Yes, Mr Stringer.
You were right, Miss Marple.
Remember September
was put on in 1951 -
a try-out performance
at Pebblestone-on-Sea.
Very interesting,
particularly as the author claims
that he's only recently
completed the work.
That may have been embarrassment.
The Lord Chamberlain's Office
remembers it
because it was booed off the stage
halfway through.
That doesn't surprise me
in the least.
The point is,
was there anyone we know in it?
I have obtained a full cast list
and in it occurs the name
of Margaret McGinty.
What? Really?
Excellent!
Now tell me, apart from Mr Cosgood,
who else in this company was
connected with this production?
No one? You sure?
Yes.
All right, Jim. I was just thinking.
Of course it's possible that someone
has since changed his or her name.
Look, Jim, drop the cast list in
to me at Westward Ho, will you?
Thank you. Goodbye.
Miss Marple.
I'm sorry if I startled you.
Mr Cosgood is asking for you
on the stage.
Thank you. I'll go.
This was in props.
It should do the job.
All right. Let's try it.
Ah, there you are, dear lady.
We've devised an embellishment
to the scene where you confront Ralph
with the truth
about Rona La Plante's death.
Instead of merely knocking over the
lamp and making good his escape,
Ralph suggests
he also attempts to kill you.
- Really?
- Yes.
He knocks over the lamp,
shoots at you and then bolts.
- I see.
- He misses, of course.
Nothing like a loud report
for keeping an audience alive.
- Do you find this alarming?
- Oh, no. Not at all.
Good.
Right, then, let's set the scene.
Ralph, you'll be over here,
rifling the escritoire.
The Honourable Penelope will enter
through the French windows here.
Right! Positions, please.
Miss Marple, in, now.
Ah!
I thought I'd find you here, Faber.
- You!
- Yes, me!
Stay where you are.
Violence will avail you nothing.
The grounds are swarming with police.
- They've nothing on me.
- Oh, yes they have. You see...
You see, Mrs McGinty's dead!
You made a mistake, didn't you?
You certainly did, dear lady.
What did I do?
- You said, "Mrs McGinty's dead".
- Did I?
Yes, it's Rona La Plante who's dead.
Yes, how silly of me.
I must have picked it up from
your play, Remember September.
My play?
There's nobody of that name in it.
How odd.
The name McGinty's on my mind,
for some reason.
I know, it was that barmaid
murdered at Milchester.
There was a trial last week.
Yes... that's it.
May I try it again please?
Yes, yes, only let's do it properly
this time.
I'll do my best.
Positions, please.
All right, Ralph, make your move.
Seen this in the evening paper?
"Police Baffled In Theatre Mystery".
Not that, this.
"Grand Charity Reopening Monday.
Driffold Cosgood proudly presents his
company in a murder drama.
First night proceeds in aid
of the Police Benevolent Fund."
Nice gesture.
I can just hear
the Chief Constable agreeing.
- Have you got those bank statements?
- On your desk, sir.
Well did anyone draw out 100 about
the time of Mrs McGinty's death?
- Yes, sir.
- Well, who?
- The dead man, George Rowton.
- Why didn't you say so?
I just did, sir.
Well, well, well.
It was as simple as that - suicide.
There's a visitor for you.
Oh, thank you.
- In there. He's a male.
- Oh, I see.
- Oh, Inspector.
- Good evening.
Good evening.
I missed you at the police station.
I had no idea you had come here.
No, I'm sure.
Your visit is most inopportune.
At rehearsal today,
I set in train a certain stratagem
which I think will force our murderer
to make a move tonight.
I very much doubt it.
Our murderer, as you put it, is dead.
I beg your pardon?
Look.
George Rowton's bank statement -
important item underlined,
namely a withdrawal of 100.
So that explains it.
- I thought you'd see.
- Yes, indeed.
I admit the motive for Rowton's
murder had eluded me until now.
He wasn't murdered.
He killed himself.
- You really think so?
- It's obvious.
Mrs McGinty blackmailed him, he drew
out of the bank to pay her off,
murdered her and left the money
to incriminate the lodger.
- That theory has a familiar ring.
- What?
Oh, you did suggest
something like that.
The point is, the lodger's innocent.
Rowton did it and then took the easy
way out - couldn't stand the strain.
The case is wrapped up. I'm going
to tell the Chief Constable.
- I wouldn't do that if I were you.
- Why not?
I think you're wrong.
- You do?
- Yes.
I think our murderer got the money to
pay Mrs McGinty off George Rowton
in a way which made it necessary
for Rowton to be disposed of later.
Only a woman's mind
could have dreamt that one up.
It may irritate you, Inspector, that
women sometimes have superior minds.
You will simply have to accept it.
Oh, don't you need this?
Thank you.
- Good night, Miss Marple.
- Good night, Inspector.
- Good evening.
- Good evening.
Oh, that's where you are!
They like to sleep up here
when they can find an empty bed.
Come on, your liver's nice and hot.
Dinner gong in two minutes.
Come on, babies.
Come in.
Miss Marple, I was hoping
to catch you before you went down.
Were you?
Yes, I thought it was time
we had a little chat.
That's it.
Overture and beginners please.
That means you.
- No male friends in rooms, madam.
- Don't be absurd, boy.
Well, perhaps I can escort you down.
I'll give dinner a miss tonight.
I'm feeling a trifle queasy.
- Nothing incapacitating, I trust?
- Oh, no. A good night's rest...
- Well... I'll... leave you then.
- Thank you.
Take care, dear lady. We mustn't
be without you Monday, must we?
Come, Arthur.
Oh, my dear. I was just...
Bitter almonds... cyanide!
Oh!
This is tragic, absolutely tragic.
When the press hear this, we will be
turning them away from the theatre.
We're stuck without
someone to play the housekeeper.
- You can't have it both ways.
- We must!
We owe it to Dorothy.
Eva, no.
You're already the good-time girl and
the vicar's daughter.
Sheila, would you play the
housekeeper if I got you a wig?
Oh, Driffy, you make me sick.
You don't care about poor Dorothy.
All you care about
is your play and your stupid old self
and no, I won't play the housekeeper!
All right, Miss Marple.
Cyanide gas, but how?
- I think I can explain that.
- No doubt.
I take it from your tone that
you did not have second thoughts
about seeing
the Chief Constable yesterday.
- If you can explain, please do so.
- Very well.
Now!
So what? My wife has one.
Presumably
she doesn't cook candle wax.
No, she doesn't.
There is a little
at the bottom of that saucepan.
This is what happened.
The murderer set the dials
so that the gas
came on at 12:55 precisely
under this saucepan that
contained a small wax cup of acid
and a pellet of sodium cyanide.
The wax melted,
the acid flowed over the pellet.
Result: a sudden release
of cyanide gas. Lethal.
I see.
At one o'clock precisely,
the gas turned itself off...
..now!
Leaving nothing
but an innocent saucepan on the hob.
Yes. That means whoever we're looking
for must have specialist knowledge.
Oh, no.
Exactly the same murder method
is employed in our play on Monday -
Out Of The Stewpot.
Any one of the company
could have done it.
The way things are now I am tempted
to arrest the whole lot of them.
- Really?
- Yes, really.
What you've found out, what we've
found out... look at what we've got.
Cosgood.
He told you he'd only
just written Remember September
and yet we know
it was produced in 1951.
Victim one,
Mrs McGinty was in it.
This fellow Summers,
we know he took Mrs McGinty out
when the company was in Milchester,
the week she was murdered.
His wife, Maureen, knew
about this and she didn't like it.
Then there's this spooky girl, Eva.
She was having a romance with victim
number two, George Rowton,
and he tossed her aside like a...
- Worn-out glove, sir?
- Yes.
Then there's young Arthur -
that note was typed on his typewriter
and as a result, victim number three.
There is a point here.
In 1951, the younger members of the
company would have been children.
Yes, by George.
If that performance
of Remember September in 1951
started this whole thing,
then none of those youngsters -
Eva, Bill, Sheila, Arthur -
could have anything to do with it.
Anyone could have gone into Arthur's
room and used the typewriter.
- He's here.
- What?
- He's here, sir.
- Oh, yes.
- Would you wait here a moment?
- Wait?
Please. Sergeant.
I wonder why the iron was hot?
- What are you doing here?
- Well, I...
You asked me to drop in
the cast list when I passed.
You know, Remember September.
You were passing
at 2:30 in the morning? Come now.
Yes.
As a matter of fact, the Inspector
was kind enough to send a car.
He thought I might succeed where
he had failed to persuade you...
- To desert my post?
- This is a dangerous place.
- These are dangerous people.
- Only one of them.
- The time has come for plain speak.
- Please, Jim, I'm thinking.
It's here that the answer lies.
Driffold Cosgood, Ralph Summers,
Margaret McGinty, Rose Kane.
Rose.
Rose.
Mr Stringer, we have here
in addition to Margaret McGinty,
an actress called Rose Kane.
I don't understand.
Don't you see? "A rose
by any other name would smell".
- The blackmail note.
- Oh!
Mr Stringer,
tomorrow I must do some digging.
- Digging?
- Yes, into the past.
You mean this Rose Kane?
Yes.
You seem
to remember her well, Mr Tumbrill.
- What is your interest in her?
- I simply want to trace her.
I've been outside
the profession for many years now
and so the only way l...
If you're an old friend of hers,
I'm afraid you're in for a shock.
- Oh?
- Poor Rosie was hanged.
- What?
- Yes.
A terrible business,
terrible business.
Will you?
Not so soon after breakfast,
thank you. You were saying?
Oh, yes, terrible.
I shall never forget it.
She opened in this play
somewhere in the sticks.
It was a unique flopperoo,
it didn't even run the night.
Anyhow on the same night, believe it
or not, she poisoned her husband.
- Did she indeed?
- Yes, she did.
She sent her kid out to buy
half a pound of garlic sausage
and then doctored it
with weedkiller.
There was a child?
Must have been
- Boy or girl?
- Never saw the kid myself.
Can't even remember its name.
Some friend took it in for a bit
then popped it into an orphanage.
That friend, was her name McGinty?
Yes, that's right.
Maggie McGinty, blonde, flighty.
Why ever did Rose do it?
- Usual thing - another man.
- Who was he?
He never came forward
and she never named him.
Then it could be
the lover or the child.
Eh?
I wonder if I might have
this photograph as a keepsake?
Oh, by all means. Yes, by all means.
One of mine
that got away, you might say.
I won't take up
any more of your time.
Allow me.
- Evelyn!
- I beg your pardon?
Rose's kid.
Evelyn, that was the name.
Evelyn.
Nothing like champagne
for a champagne occasion.
Uncommonly civil of you, dear lady.
- What about a toast?
- Of course, of course.
To success, to us, all of us
and particularly to our hostess, long
life, dear lady.
Oh, Mr Cosgood, such lovely flowers.
- Who's that?
- What?
She was an actress
called Rose Kane.
Why do you ask?
I don't know,
but somehow she means death.
It's something to do with George.
Five minutes, boys and girls.
The party's over.
All you have to do
is speak your lines clearly,
try not to trip over and we'll
run longer than The Mousetrap.
See you on stage, dear lady.
Don't forget,
it's Rona La Plante who's dead.
Well, Driffold, tonight's the night.
- It most certainly is. Got the gun?
- Yes.
What does
she want to see us about, sir?
I don't know.
Come in.
Well, Miss Marple?
Good evening, Inspector.
There's something you should know
before you go in to see the play.
Oh, what?
I think our murderer
will try to kill me again tonight.
Again?
The first attempt failed.
Poor Dorothy perished instead.
What are you talking about?
The iron was hot, you see.
I burnt my hand.
No, I don't see.
When I went into
Dorothy's room earlier that night
there was washing on the line.
I think she did her ironing later and
forgot to switch off.
Then in the middle of the night
she remembered
and went to the kitchen to do so.
She walked into a trap meant for you?
That note was left outside my door
deliberately to lure me down.
We are going to stay right here
and not let Miss Marple
out of our sight.
You mustn't do that.
We must put no obstacle in the way.
- You can't be serious?
- Never more so.
You see, our murderer
set a trap for me.
I have just returned the compliment.
- Miss Marple, I've brought the...
- Let me have it, Mr Stringer.
- Thank you.
- What's that?
Life insurance, Inspector.
Life insurance.
Beginners on stage, please. Beginners
on stage.
Will you please excuse me, gentlemen?
We've been through that before.
You know that I have committed myself
to this way of life
and I won't give it up.
You're living here, a son of mine!
I live where I choose.
Come in, Eva.
Now, don't scream.
Don't speak. I'm taking you somewhere
where we won't be interrupted.
If you do anything, I'll kill you.
Now, open that door!
A couple of years in jail, what's
that? It might be the making of you.
You may think
the police are fools, Stanley,
perhaps some of them are
but not all, son, not all.
If anyone tries to come through here,
I want to know who it is
and what he wants.
Very good, sir.
Hey, what's all this about?
Miss Marple, I've covered every...
Sergeant!
- Sheila, have you seen Ralph?
- No.
- Where is she?
- In the dressing room.
She isn't, you idiot.
We've got to find her.
Look, Dad, can't we cut this short?
I'm expecting a visitor in...
..in a few moments.
One of your worthless friends
no doubt.
It's the girl I'm going to marry,
if you must know.
Look at me!
Look at me!
What's the matter?
I want you to know
why you're going to die.
I want to know that too.
You killed him.
I don't know why, but you killed him.
By him, you mean
George Rowton, don't you?
Yes.
You were in love with him.
Yes, I loved him and you killed him.
No, you're mistaken, my dear.
He was killed
by someone called Evelyn Kane.
I don't believe you.
I know it was you. I've felt
it was you from the beginning.
You can't do it!
You're no more
capable of murder than I am.
You were quite right,
she couldn't have done it.
A pity, I thought
she might have saved me the trouble.
- Aren't you supposed to be on stage?
- I am, Miss Marple.
Hundreds of people will swear I am,
hiding behind the curtain.
It's very simple really.
Remember when Cosgood
dropped through the trap?
I've done the same.
In exactly three minutes
I shall be back on stage on cue,
but you, I'm sorry to say,
will not be answering yours.
You're Evelyn Kane, aren't you?
Rose Kane's son.
Oh, yes.
Evelyn, what a name.
I soon changed that.
The McGinty woman
found that out, didn't she?
When you were playing in Milchester,
she recognised you,
and as you were marrying an heiress,
she saw an opportunity for blackmail.
She threatened to tell
Sheila's father unless I paid her...
..so I kept her quiet.
- Where could I find the money?
- George Rowton.
She wanted 100, so I forged
George's name on a cheque.
I couldn't let him
find that out, could I?
So they both had to die.
Poor old Dorothy...
..that was meant for you, of course.
I had meant to wring your neck,
but Eva's been very obliging.
Her fingerprints are on that
and I'm on stage.
Wait!
I borrowed this from Mr Summers.
You can't fool me
with a prop gun filled with blanks.
Oh, no, not blanks. A friend of mine
procured me some insurance.
I'll risk it.
I should warn you,
I won the Ladies Small Arms
Championships at Bisley in 1924.
Bully for you.
Oh, dear!
I thought I heard something.
Come out of there!
Bill, you stupid...
Inspector.
Oh, dear.
Oh, dear.
With a bit of rest and some luck,
the doctor says I should be
out of here in a few days.
Splendid. I'm thankful the blow
caused no permanent damage.
- Now if you'll excuse me.
- Thank you very much, Miss Marple.
There is one thing
I thought you might like to know,
as a result
of my work on this case,
I'm to be promoted
to Chief Inspector.
Oh, I'm so glad. Congratulations.
Yes, well, thank you, Miss Marple.
Not at all, Inspector,
Chief Inspector.
Au revoir.
Forgive me
if I fail to rise, dear lady.
I quite understand, Mr Cosgood.
I've brought you some magazines
to help while away the time.
Ah, yes, time, time.
I've been lying here contemplating
a bleak future unless...
Unless?
I wondered if you'd given any thought
to my play, Remember September?
It has been rather on my mind.
Dear lady,
I have a small confession to make.
I left the script in your room.
Really?
I hoped it might make
an impression on you.
- It did.
- Good.
With one or two
minor alterations in the second act,
I have here a very valuable property.
I'm so happy for you, Mr Cosgood.
There is, however, one little snag.
Oh?
Yes, it's sordid of course,
when dealing with the arts,
but a play, whatever
its merits, requires a backer.
Mr Cosgood,
whatever I may or may not be,
I am definitely no angel!
Goodbye and good luck.