Hokuspokus oder: Wie lasse ich meinen Mann verschwinden...? Page #2

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I'd rather not say.

- But you must.

Even if I touch a sensitive nerve

with the President?

By all means.

It's about Evelyn.

- What's she got to do with my murder?

Plenty. Although she left you, your

last will is overly generous to her.

Do you know where she is right now?

- In London.

Correct.

And she's met a man there who knows

that your death would make Evelyn

a rich heiress.

This friend arrived today to kill you.

His name is Graham.

This revolver alone

would prove nothing.

But here... this is your glass.

Do you think that is sugar?

I think it's poison.

You're mad! I wired him to come.

When did you wire him?

- When was it? - The 10th.

When did you receive the telegram?

- When was it? - The 11th.

And when did you buy the ticket?

- When was it? - The 8th.

Three days before

the telegram arrived. May I?

The ticket.

The 8th!

Ticket, revolver and poison

could still leave a slight doubt.

But I think the note in Mr. Graham's

breast pocket. Pardon me, Mr. Graham.

...should dispel any doubt.

Recognize the handwriting?

It's mine.

- Did you write that?

No.

- Care to read it?

"I can't live without Evelyn. My

last will is deposited with my lawyer,

Arthur Graham, London."

That was to be found on your body

to make it look like suicide.

Forgive me, Mr. Graham.

Let him go.

He's just getting the police.

Am I dreaming or am I awake?

Strange.

- What?

That he painted her as a widow.

As if he'd suspected it.

See that fly?

- Which fly?

That fly. It's still alive.

And why shouldn't it be?

- It's been nibbling on the poison.

Maybe it's sugar after all.

Yes. It is sugar.

Am I still sane?

- Apparently not.

Not if you now see your one-time

best friend Mr. Graham as a murderer.

The poison?

- It's sugar.

And the ticket?

- I go like this...

And the note?

- I wrote it. - And why all of this?

To prove to you

that Agda Kjerulf is innocent.

The evidence against her

is circumstantial.

And with three cheap tricks,

that any illusionist would use,

I've proven beyond a doubt

that your best friend

is your murderer.

Have a seat, Peer Bille.

That eavesdropping at the window

must've been tiring.

Very.

Now may I?

Yes, now you may.

So you'd like to influence me

to the defendant's advantage?

Yes, I would.

What would you like to tell me?

- Agda Kjerulf is innocent.

Not even her counsel believes that.

He dropped the case today.

She's still innocent. I've followed

her for years. She didn't do it.

Why do you follow her?

- I love her.

Does that surprise you?

- Not at all.

What surprises me

is that Agda Kjerulf was married.

She had a husband.

- That man was worthless.

He tormented her with his pettiness,

his jealousy, and his awful old beard.

But he's dead, Mr. Bille.

Thank God.

But he was alive until March 13th.

Until when?

- March 13th.

Do you think she was happy with him?

- Didn't you say he tormented her?

That doesn't make a woman unhappy.

But you have proof that she was

unhappy enough to kill him.

You must acquit her, Mr. President.

- How is that supposed to work?

Have you ever spoken to her?

- Certainly.

Looked into her eyes?

- Certainly.

And you still think she's a murderer?

- Yes. - Scoundrel!

You have a bad temper, Peer Bille.

- Very much so.

Does that often happen?

At times. But I stop myself

at the last moment...

...sometimes.

You wanted to tell me what you know

about Hilmar Kjerulf's murder.

You won't tell me?

On your love for Evelyn,

do you think such a sweet thing

as Evelyn... or Agda

is capable of murder?

On your love for Agda,

did you assist her?

No.

I did it alone.

Good night.

Now we'll decide whether this man

belongs in the madhouse or in jail.

In jail. Arrest him.

- Just a moment.

I came of my own accord. I'll leave,

and attend the trial the same way.

Arrest and restrain him.

He has a violent temper.

You are no gentleman, Mr. President.

That's no good. I can free myself.

See? My hands must be like this.

Not with the thumb on the inside.

Watch, like this...

Now try to get loose.

You can't. Good.

Goodbye, gentlemen. I'll be at

at the trial, but not in a tailcoat.

The murder weapon.

As a souvenir.

Be reasonable! It's senseless!

This is no bargain sale. Stop!

We're in the District Court main hall,

where Agda Kjerulf

is being tried today for murder.

The courtroom is jam-packed,

and people are still trying to get in.

The prosecutor and the new

defense counsel have not yet arrived.

We now await

the arrival of the justices.

Is the meteorological report there?

It's in the file, Mr. Prosecutor.

Constable?

- Mr. President?

Where's the defendant? It's time.

- She's with her new defense counsel.

Do we have the counsel's mandate?

- Yes, and it's in order.

Constable?

- Mr. President?

Has the police report

from Copenhagen arrived?

It's already in your file.

- Summon the defendant. - Yes, sir.

What is the new counsel's name?

- Dr. Bille. - I see.

What's his name?

I think that's him.

Mr. President, honorable judges,

state prosecutor and jury,

my name is Dr. Bille. I am

the new counsel, if it may please you.

I hope Mr. President doesn't hold

last night's incident against me,

but it's part of my defense. Unusual

circumstances require unusual steps.

And it's unusual for a defense counsel

to abandon his client.

That in itself shows that he doesn't

believe his client to be innocent.

Such a measure must be condemned

if he did it, as he says,

for reasons of conscience.

A man with a conscience

has no business being a lawyer.

I have followed this case,

and I am of the firm belief

that the defendant, now my client,

is innocent. And I will

stop at nothing to prove it.

As last night proved. And I beg

the prosecutor's pardon for lacking

the politeness of a guest counsel.

However, I have no choice

but to disprove his theories

with unrelenting perseverance.

I'm not fearful, so go right ahead.

I certainly will.

- Sir?

I won't praise you

for your performance last night.

I think it fair to inform

those present of this incident.

Ladies and Gentlemen, Dr. Bille

showed up in my flat last night

claiming to be a former circus artist.

- Yes, but then I studied law,

which my father claimed

was a more noble circus.

He presented watertight evidence that

my best friend had come to murder me,

that the defendant didn't kill

her husband, but rather that he did.

And if I'd given him more time,

he would've likely proved that not he,

but rather that I was the murderer.

But you did make one mistake.

The razor...

Yes, I realized that afterwards.

I contacted the forensic expert.

The corpse showed no injury.

Cause of death is drowning.

- Exactly.

Furthermore, I requested

your police record. Care to hear?

No. Is it good?

- I haven't read it yet.

Peer Jens Christian Bille, born in

Svendburg, son of Noldus Bille,

in whose circus

he attained great skills

as rider, swordsman, magician,

speed painter and escape artist.

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