Dial M for Murder Page #3

you took that money.

Poor old Alfred.

Thanks very much for the drink.

Interesting, hearing about your

matrimonial affairs.

I take it you won't be

wanting that car after all.

Don't you want me to tell you

why I brought you here?.

Yes, I think you'd better.

It was when I saw you in that pub

that it happened.

Suddenly, everything became quite clear.

A few months before,

Margot and I had made our wills.

Short affairs, leaving everything we had

to each other, in case of accidents.

Hers worked out at just over 90,000.

Investments mostly,

all a little too easy to get at.

And that was dangerous.

They would be bound to suspect me.

I need an alibi, a very good one.

Then I saw you.

I'd wondered what happened

to people who came out of prison.

People like you, I mean.

Can they get jobs?.

Do old friends rally round?.

Suppose they never had any friends.

I became so curious to know

that I followed you.

I followed you home that night and--

Would you mind passing me

your glass, old boy?.

Thank you.

Thank you very much.

-I've been following you ever since.

-Why?.

I was hoping sooner or later

I might catch you at something...

-...and be able to--

-Blackmail me?.

Influence you.

After a couple of weeks,

I got to know your routine...

-...and that made it a lot easier.

-Rather dour work.

To begin with, yes.

But you know how it is.

You take up a hobby.

And the more you get to know it,

the more fascinating it becomes.

You became quite fascinating.

In fact, there were times when

I'd felt that you almost belonged to me.

That must have been interesting.

You used to go to the dog-racing,

Mondays and Thursdays.

I even took it up myself,

just to be near you.

-You'd changed your name to Adams.

-Yes. I got bored with Swan.

-Any crime in that?.

-No. No. None whatever.

In fact, there was nothing

really illegal about you.

I got quite discouraged.

Then one day, you disappeared

from your lodgings.

I phoned your landlady.

I said, "Mr. Adams owed me 5."

But apparently that was nothing.

Mr. Adams owed her six weeks' rent

in her best lodge at 55.

Mr. Adams had been

such a nice gentleman.

That's what seemed

to upset her most.

Yes. That always seems

to upset them most.

I say, old boy,

if you want another drink...

...do you mind putting on these gloves?.

Now, where were we?.

Yes, I'd lost you...

...and then I found you

one day at the dog-racing.

And I tailed you home to your

new lodgings in Belsize Park.

There Mr. Adams became Mr. Wilson.

Mr. Wilson left Belsize Park

owing 16 weeks' rent...

...and somewhat richer for a

brief encounter with a Miss Wallace.

You used to take Miss Wallace out

on Wednesdays and Sundays.

She certainly was in love

with you, wasn't she?.

I suppose she thought you were growing

that handsome mustache to please her.

Poor Miss Wallace.

This is all very interesting.

Do go on.

July, August, September:.

Apartment 127, Carlisle Court.

Occupant:
a Mrs. Van Dorn.

Her late husband left her two hotels

and a large apartment house, furnished.

What a base to operate from,

Captain Lesgate.

The only trouble is, she does

rather enjoy being courted.

And she's so very expensive.

Perhaps that's why you've been trying

to sell her car for over a month.

Mrs. Van Dorn asked me

to sell it for her.

I know. I called her up

just before you arrived here.

She only wanted 800.

Where's the nearest police station?.

Opposite the church.

Two minutes' walk.

-Suppose I walk there now.

-What would you tell them?.

-Everything.

-Everything?.

All about Mr. Adams

and Mr. Wilson?.

I should simply tell them that you

are trying to blackmail me into--

Into?.

Murdering your wife.

I almost wish you would.

When she heard that,

we'd have the laugh of our lives.

-Aren't you forgetting something?.

-Am I?.

You've told me quite a lot tonight.

-What of it?.

-Suppose I tell them...

...how you followed her

to that studio in Chelsea...

...and watched them cooking

spaghetti and all that rubbish.

-Will that ring a bell?.

-It would.

They'd assume you'd followed her.

-Me?. Why should I?.

-Why should you steal her handbag?.

Why should you write

those blackmail notes?.

Can you prove you didn't?.

You certainly can't prove I did.

It'll be a straight case

of your word against mine.

That would puzzle them, wouldn't it.

What could you say?.

I should say that you came here tonight

half-drunk and tried to borrow money...

...on the strength that we

were at college together.

When I refused, you said something

about a letter belonging to my wife.

As far as I could make out,

you tried to sell it to me.

I gave you what money I had,

and you gave me the letter.

It has your fingerprints on it, remember?.

Then you said if I went to the police...

...you'd tell some crazy story about

my wanting you to murder my wife.

Before you go any further, old boy,

do consider the inconvenience.

You see, I'm quite well-known.

There'd be pictures of you, as well.

And sooner or later, there'd be

a deputation of landladies and lodgers...

...who would step forward to testify

to your character.

And someone is almost certain

to have seen you with Miss Wallace.

You were careful not to be seen

around with her, I noticed.

You usually met

in out-of-the-way places...

...where you wouldn't be recognized.

Like the little teashop in Pimlico.

That was her idea, not mine.

Yes, it was a bit crummy, wasn't it?.

Hardly the place to take Mrs. Van Dorn.

By the way, does Mrs. Van Dorn

know about Mr. Adams...

...and Mr. Wilson and Miss Wallace?.

You were planning to marry

Mrs. Van Dorn, weren't you?.

-Smart, aren't you?.

-No, not really.

I've just had time

to think things out...

...put myself in your position.

That's why I know you're going to agree.

-What makes you think I'll agree?.

-The same reason...

...a donkey with a stick behind him

and a carrot in front...

...always goes forwards, not backwards.

Tell me about the carrot.

One thousand pounds in cash.

-For a murder?.

-For a few minutes' work, that's all it is.

And no risk, I guarantee.

That ought to appeal to you.

You've been skating on pretty thin ice.

-I don't know what you're talking about.

-You ought to know.

It was in the papers,

"Middle-aged woman...

...found dead due to

an overdose of something."

She'd been taking the stuff

for some time...

...and nobody knows where she got it.

But we know, don't we?.

Poor Miss Wallace.

This 1000...

...where is it?.

It's in a small attach case

in a checkroom.

-Where?.

-Somewhere in London.

Of course, we don't meet again.

As soon as you've delivered the goods...

...I shall mail you the checkroom ticket

and the key to the case.

You take this 100 on account.

The police would

only have to trace one of these notes...

...back to you to hang us both

from the same rope.

They won't. For a whole year,

I've been cashing an extra 20 a week.

Always in fivers.

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