Clue Page #5

Finally, the camera reveals Mrs. Peacock, who is twirling

a dagger.

BODDY (O.S.)

In your hands, you each have a lethal weapon.

Mr. Boddy walks on camera and continues.

BODDY:

If you denounce me to the police, you will also be exposed and humiliated.

I'll see to that in court.

(pauses)

But . . . if one of you kills Wadsworth now . . .

Wadsworth's eyes widen in shock.

BODDY:

. . . no one but the seven of us will ever know.

He has the key to the front door, which he said would

only be opened over his dead body.

I suggest we take him up on that offer.

Mr. Boddy goes over to the light switch with deliberate ease.

He closes the door to the hall and sets his drink down.

BODDY:

The only way to avoid finding yourselves on the front pages

is for one of you to kill Wadsworth.

Now.

He turns off the lights.

We hear noises.

Someone inhales raspily.

A gunshot.

Something ceramic shatters.

A scream.

The lights go up.

Mrs. Peacock, who turned on the light, drops the dagger in shock.

The camera reveals Mr. Boddy lying prone on the floor.

MUSTARD:

It's not Wadsworth!

The guests talk to each other.

PLUM:

Stand back! Give him air!

(kneels next to Mr. Boddy)

Let me see.

(checks Mr. Boddy for signs of life)

He's dead!

WHITE:

Who had the gun?

PLUM:

I did.

PEACOCK:

Then you shot him!

PLUM:

I didn't!

PEACOCK:

Well, you had the gun. If you didn't shoot him, who did?

Mr. Boddy is turned over.

PLUM:

Nobody! Look, there's no gunshot wound.

Somebody tried to grab the gun from me in the dark

and the gun went off.

Look! The bullet broke that vase on the mantel!

Everyone rushes for the mantel simultaneously, causing confusion.

MUSTARD:

He's absolutely right. Look, there's a bullet hole here in the wall. See that?

Mr. Green grabs Prof. Plum by the lapels.

GREEN:

How did he die?

PLUM:

I don't know!

(shoves him away)

I'm not a forensic expert.

WHITE:

Well, one of us must have killed him!

GREEN:

Well, I didn't do it.

PEACOCK:

Oh, I need a drink!

She goes to the door and gets Mr. Boddy's cognac.

She sips.

PLUM:

(alarmed)

Maybe he was poisoned!

Mrs. Peacock drops the glass in revulsion and starts to scream.

She won't stop.

Mr. Green takes her to a sofa, offering words of comfort.

She sits, but won't stop screaming.

Mr. Green slaps her.

GREEN:

I . . . I had to stop her from screaming . . .

PLUM:

(to Green)

Was the brandy poisoned?

GREEN:

I don't know.

SCARLET:

(picks up the glass. All the cognac has spilled out)

Looks like we'll never know.

GREEN:

Unless . . . unless she dies, too.

They all rush over to scrutinize Mrs. Peacock.

A scream erupts from another room!

The guests gasp.

They run from the study into the hall.

29 -- INT. GROUND FLOOR--THE HALL -- 29

The guests run to the door of the billiard room.

Mr. Green tries it.

GREEN:

It's locked!

WADSWORTH:

Open up!

PLUM:

It must be the murderer.

GREEN:

Why would he scream?

WHITE:

He must have a victim in there. Oh, my God! Yvette!

GREEN:

Oh, my God!

The doors open.

30 -- INT. GROUND FLOOR--BILLIARD ROOM -- 30

The guests pour in.

WADSWORTH:

You're alive!

YVETTE:

No sanks to you!

WADSWORTH:

What do you mean?

YVETTE:

You lock me up with a murderer, you eediot!

WHITE:

So the murderer is in this room.

YVETTE:

Mai Oui!

GREEN:

But where?

YVETTE:

Where? 'Ere!

Mr. Green looks behind the door.

YVETTE:

We are all looking at eem. Or 'er.

Is what Mrs. White said in ze study--one of you is ze killer!

PLUM:

How did you know we said that?

YVETTE:

I was lisuning!

WHITE:

But why were you screaming in here all by yourself?

YVETTE:

Because I am frightened. Me too, I also drink ze cognac.

(sobbing)

Mon diou. I can't stay in here by myself.

Miss Scarlet and Col. Mustard go to Yvette.

SCARLET:

Come back to the study with us.

YVETTE:

With ze murderer?

MUSTARD:

(shaking the wrench)

There is safety in numbers . . .

(realizing and putting the wrench away)

. . . my dear.

The guests leave the room.

After they are gone, Wadsworth takes the tape off the spools.

31 -- INT. GROUND FLOOR--THE STUDY -- 31

GREEN:

Is there no indication of how he died?

PLUM:

No.

WADSWORTH:

This is terrible. This is absolutely terrible! It's not what I'd intended.

Oh, my God . . .

WHITE:

Not what YOU intended?

SCARLET:

So you're not the butler?

WADSWORTH:

I'm not THE butler, but I am A butler.

In fact, I was his butler.

PLUM:

So if he told you to invite us all to his house, why did he arrive late?

WADSWORTH:

I invited you. In fact, I wrote the letters.

It was all my idea.

WHITE:

Wait a minute. I-I don't understand.

Why did you invite us here to meet your late employer?

Were you assisting him to blackmail us?

WADSWORTH:

Certainly not!

WHITE:

I think you had better explain.

WADSWORTH:

Please sit down. Everyone.

Everyone sits but Mr. Green.

He searches for a spot, but no one gives it to him.

He ends up leaning against a serving table.

WADSWORTH:

When I said that I was Mr. Boddy's butler,

this was both true and misleading.

I was once his butler,

but it was not his untimely death this evening

that brought my employment with him to an end.

MUSTARD:

When did it come to an end?

WADSWORTH:

When my wife decided to . . . end her life.

She too was being blackmailed by this odious man who now

lies dead before us. He hated my wife for the same reason that

he hated all of you. He believed that you were all thoroughly . . .

. . . un-American.

Mr. Green's serving table gives way, landing him (and

several pieces of crystal) on the floor.

GREEN:

Sorry.

WADSWORTH:

For some reason, he felt that it was inappropriate for a senator

to have a corrupt wife, for a doctor to take

advantage of his patients, for a wife to emasculate her

husband and . . . and . . . so forth.

GREEN:

But this is ridiculous!

If he was such a patriotic American, why didn't he just report us

to the authorities?

WADSWORTH:

He decided to put his information to good use

and make a little money out of it.

What could be more American than that?

Several nods.

PLUM:

And what was your role in all this?

WADSWORTH:

I was . . . a victim, too.

At least my wife was.

She had friends who were . . .

(this is obviously painful for him)

. . . Socialists.

Gasps and muttering from several guests,

the most vocal of whom is Mrs. Peacock.

WADSWORTH:

(holding back tears)

Well, we all make mistakes . . .

(Mrs. White pulls a tissue from her bra and gives it to him.)

WADSWORTH:

But Mr. Boddy threatened to give my wife's name to the

House Un-American Activities Committee unless she named them.

She refused, and so he blackmailed her. We had no money,

and the price of his silence was that we worked for him for nothing.

We were slaves! Well, to make a long story short--

MUSTARD:

Too late.

WADSWORTH:

--The suicide of my wife preyed on my mind,

and created a sense of injustice in me.

I resolved to put Mr. Boddy behind bars.

It seemed to be the best way to do it, and to free all of you

from the same burden of blackmail was to get everyone face to face,

confront Mr. Boddy with his crimes, and then . . .

. . . turn him over to the police.

PLUM:

So, everything is explained.

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