Crooked House Page #5

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family matters.

Family was pretty much

everything to him.

Well, you can tell me

about Laurence brown then.

Did you know he was having

an affair with Brenda?

I suppose I knew something

might be going on.

And what if your grandfather

had found out?

I'm quite sure

he knew all about it.

And he didn't mind?

It's highly likely

that when he selected Laurence

for the post of tutor

to his grandchildren,

he was also selecting him

as Brenda's...

Yes.

To keep Brenda happy.

Then I suppose you know

he didn't sign the will?

Well, yes. That was a surprise.

So Brenda gets the lot.

Including, I would say,

the final nail in her coffin.

What's the hurry, Josephine?

I hear you're making progress.

But you won't be the one

who solves this case.

If anything, you're Watson.

Is that right?

Well, why don't you

enlighten me, Holmes?

Tell me about those letters.

What letters?

You know, the ones

that Brenda and Laurence brown

are supposedly writing

to each other.

Oh, I made that up.

I often make things up.

It stops me

from getting too bored.

I don't believe you.

I know you know things.

Sometimes people don't know

what they know.

There you are.

What do you want now, nanny?

Your hot chocolate's ready.

Look at you.

Your ballet shoes are all muddy.

I don't like hot chocolate.

You only make it

so you can drink it yourself.

It will give you

a good night's rest.

Not everything they say

on television is true, nanny.

Just leave me alone.

Mr. Hayward.

Afternoon.

What?

I'd say we're due

another murder,

don't you think, Watson?

Another murder, Holmes?

Well, there's always

a second murder.

Someone who knows something

is bumped off

before they can reveal

what they know.

I didn't say you could come in.

I'm sorry. I thought

you couldn't hear me knock.

I know every other ass

in this house

is just begging to talk

to you, but I'm not.

You're boring me.

Your tutor, Mr. brown,

what do you make of him?

I reckon Mr. brown's

doing all right for himself.

I wouldn't mind, would you?

Though it's a bit weird,

fancying

your grandfather's wife.

Oh, I'm sorry, did I shock you?

No, it's just the fact is

everyone fancies granny.

Uncle Roger

has the hots for her.

You can tell.

It must have amused grandpa

to put that cat

amongst the pigeons

and watch the feathers fly.

Now, I have a question for you,

Mr. detective.

I can't imagine there's anything

that I can tell you

you don't already know.

Oh, yeah. Did you screw

my sister in Cairo?

Now, your grandfather

has just died.

A good thing, really.

It's one less capitalist.

Please. You don't know

what you're talking about.

I didn't hear you.

Did you screw my sister?

Are you really happy

your grandfather is dead?

He was a control freak

who played with people's lives.

He was a sadistic pig,

and his hubris was intolerable,

and he got what he deserved.

But I don't believe

it was Brenda.

She's not clever enough.

She might have been set up,

though.

By someone clever.

Hm.

You really seem to make a habit

of barging in, don't you?

What do you want?

Sorry. It won't take a moment.

When Brenda was first introduced

into the household,

did it rather upset

the apple cart?

The apple cart remained upright,

as I recall.

Nor was there any tasting

of forbidden fruits,

if that's

what you're insinuating.

Now, you really have to go.

You forgave him?

There was nothing to forgive.

It was a childish infatuation.

Yes, I see.

So love turned to hate?

The reason my husband

hates Brenda

is because he thinks

she killed his father.

It's very simple.

Yes, but you don't.

You know different?

I must insist.

I haven't finished yet.

I don't believe this.

Your husband showed the check

his father gave him.

You told him to tear it up.

But he didn't.

Did you realize then

there'd never be any escape

from this place until

your father-in-law was dead?

Yes.

That exact thought

went through my mind.

But now he is.

So we can.

One more thing.

Sophia?

What are you doing?

You're burning evidence?

Christ's sake.

A reporter from the times

just called.

If he knows, soon everyone will.

Look, there was nothing

of interest regarding his murder

in these memoirs. Trust me.

Trust you?

During the war, he branched out.

Bombs.

First you destroy a city,

then you go in afterwards

and rebuild it.

I'm not sure the world needs

to know about that.

That and other things.

And that's for you

to decide, is it?

Yes, it is.

So, what are you going to do

about it, Charles?

What do you know

about trust anyway?

What's wrong?

Car won't start.

How very inconsiderate of it.

Plenty of room here.

We can have someone fix it

in the morning.

Are you sure?

Aunt Edith, I've been looking

all over for you.

Where have you been?

None of your business, dear.

Fancy meeting you here

at this late hour.

My car

seems to have broken down.

Oh, what a shame.

Such a nice car.

For a penniless plod, anyway.

That's the problem.

I can't afford it thirdhand.

Would you like me

to take you home?

I've just invited Charles

to stay the night.

Now...

That's a much more

interesting idea.

Blimey. Haven't seen this

many people around the table

since before granddad died.

What's she doing here?

Nanny?

Don't make me miss the fun.

No such thing in this room,

pumpkin.

Josephine.

I put her to bed, Lady Edith.

Well, clearly, she escaped.

"Escaped"?

She is not a prisoner.

I don't want to go to bed,

aunt Edith. I want to stay.

I'm afraid you have no choice,

my dear.

With a smile,

my little changeling.

You'll have to tell me

everything, Watson.

It's Switzerland

for that young Lady,

and the sooner the better.

It's not good for her

to be caught up

in this horrid business.

You wanted them to grow up here.

I wanted some discipline

in their lives.

I didn't think your father

would control their every move.

Was I to know that

I'd be cheated of motherhood?

Sometimes I wonder

why you bothered

to have children at all, Magda.

Soon as they were born,

you were off to repertory

in the remotest provincial

theater you could find.

There's something deeply moving

about a spinster's love

for her sister's offspring.

Moving and faintly desperate.

Congratulations, mother.

Another grandstand performance.

Don't worry, Sophia.

I've lived

through two world wars.

I can survive Magda's drunken

little slings and arrows.

Josephine is right.

Your presence seems to have

brought everyone together.

With one notable exception.

The smell of blood.

Now, I didn't realize

that your arrangements

extended to board and lodging,

Mr. Hayward.

Father, Charles is my guest.

Guests don't snoop around,

looking on their hosts

as potential murderers.

I'm sure he thinks of all of us

as potential murderers.

You can hardly blame him.

Well, then, Charles.

How about a blunt question

for you, then?

What are murderers like?

Well, um, you.

And me.

Everyone.

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