Murder by Death Page #3

You know Wang.

I had the pleasure

of dining in Shanghai...

...many years ago with Inspector Wang.

You remember. Yes.

You had "hong ching chu"

and I had "kow dung woo fong."

My wife, Dora. Inspector Perrier.

I'm sorry. Our room is so dusty.

My fault.

I should have blown first.

May I present my secretaire

and chauffeur Marcel Cassette.

- Recovered from your accident, Marcel?

- But how did you know?

From the way you bend.

Your right side

smashed in by a Citroen.

I detected a slight

metallic sound...

...so I think you have

an artificial hip. Steel?

Aluminum. You're as quick as ever,

Charleston.

And you, Charleston...

...did not approve of

Mrs. Charleston dying hair blond?

I beg your pardon?

Mrs. Charleston hair red.

You have blond hairs on shoulder.

That means she has dyed red hair

to blond then back again to red.

Or else you have been-

So sorry. Wang is wrong.

Shall we go to dinner, please?

- Boy, Pop, you sure put your-

- Shut Japanese mouth.

It must be ghastly

to have a hip removed.

- Does it hurt?

- Only in damp weather.

- Are you all right?

- Pay no attention. You'll spoil him.

Get up. Get up.

- As I was saying, Mr. Charleston-

- Hey, Pop.

A treacherous road

like fresh mushrooms-

I know. Dog stick tongue

out of picture.

Treacherous road

like fresh mushrooms.

He's a charming fellow.

African death mask.

Died in some tribal ritual.

Wonder where others are.

Others?

What others?

Invitation to dinner and murder

finally clear to Wang...

...with appearance

of Monsieur Perrier.

It's obvious that the world's

greatest detectives were invited.

Five of us, darling.

Three are here.

Two have not yet arrived.

- Miss Jessie Marbles of England.

- And-

Sam Diamond of San Francisco.

I know who you all are.

The lady in the dress is my secretary

and mistress, Tess Skeffington.

- Sam, don't.

- I'm sorry, sweetheart.

She doesn't like it

when I'm brutally honest.

Then again, we're all

in a brutal business.

Never considered murder

to be business, Mr. Diamond.

Is that right, Mr. Wang?

Maybe not for you, since you put your

money in vegetables in the late '30s.

Our friends don't know

that you own 50 percent...

...of the bean sprouts and the bamboo

shoots grown in China.

You can imagine how much

chicken chow mein...

...goes into his pot each year.

- Do I have the figures right?

- Right.

What does this have to do

with anything?

Or you, Mr. Perrier.

You work both sides

of the big drink.

Pretty good pickings,

solving crimes for barons...

...and putting your fees

into Swiss banks.

Three trips a year buys

a lot of hot chocolate.

See here, Diamond-

You see here, Mr. Charleston of

New York, Palm Beach and Beverly Hills.

Crime's a hobby to you, isn't it?

It's a game to wile away the time

while you wait for room service...

...while your wife's dough buys

martinis and your $300 suits.

That's nice, when all

you gotta do...

...is give your wife a grab now

and then and take the dog for a leak.

Sorry to shock you, but I never

went to finishing school.

My school is the streets...

...and the barrel of a revolver

is my teacher.

I get $50 a day in expenses

when I can get them, gentlemen.

I owe Miss Skeffington three years

back pay. Ain't that right?

- I don't care about the money.

- Neither do I.

If one of you would be

so kind as to give my friend...

...a glass of cheap white wine,

I'm going down to find the can.

I talk so much sometimes,

I forget to go.

Please excuse Sam.

He was shot in the head last week.

He shouldn't be

out of the hospital.

- I think he's damned honest.

- Dickie, language.

Miss Jessica Marbles and nurse.

Miss Marbles.

So we finally meet.

I've admired you ever since

I was tiny little detective.

Thank you, Mr. Wang.

I am Jessica Marbles.

This is Miss Withers, my nurse.

She's been with me 52 years.

I have to take care

of the poor dear now.

Are you all right, Miss Withers?

Do you want your medicine now?

She's off. I could use

a good, stiff shot, Mr. Charleston.

I believe booze, as you call it,

is your department.

- My pleasure, madam.

- Who's the old geezer?

Jessie, baby!

- You have a bullet hole in your back.

- You should see the other guy.

Quiet, please.

Observe strange sound.

My God, it's the face.

It's coming from the face.

He's going through

his final moments.

- What could it mean?

- It means dinner, sir. We have no gong.

Ladies and gentlemen,

I'd like to make a toast.

Our host, Mr. Lionel Twain,

is indeed a most unique man.

One:

He's succeeded in gathering...

...the world's greatest detectives...

...to investigate a crime

not yet committed.

Two:
He's set traps for us:

A bridge that almost collapses,

falling statues.

Does he mean to kill us?

Not yet. He could've done that

at any time.

He's merely trying to whet

our appetites for the game.

Three:
Why five detectives

instead of one?

Because he intends

to take us all on...

...a feat that no criminal mind

has yet attempted.

Before this hellish

weekend begins...

...I propose that we toast...

...to either a most beguiling

and charming man...

...or to an insidious,

fiendish madman.

- Bottoms up.

- One moment.

Point four:
Wine poisoned.

An ancient, tasteless, colourless

and odourless Oriental herb...

...that kills instantly.

Observe, please.

Great Scott, Mr. Wang.

You saved our lives.

Not quite, Mrs. Charleston.

Bon appetit.

Since Wang was the one who could

detect poison, only he was tested.

Point five:

Mr. Twain is both beguiling

and fiendish.

- Get a doctor, quick.

- No, no. It's all right.

My wine is not poisoned.

It was just a bad year.

Good work, Mr. Wang.

We must all be on our guard

through every course of the meal.

You're all forgetting one thing.

This makes the butler suspicious.

He poured the wine.

How would he know which

one to serve the poisoned glass to?

That's very simple.

Blind people have

a very keen sense of smell.

Since we're Anglo-Saxon

and Mr. Wang's son is Japanese...

...it wouldn't be hard

to sniff out the Chinaman.

See here.

That's a tacky thing to say.

It's a tacky world,

Mr. Charleston.

- Isn't that right, angel?

- That's right.

Quiet, please.

Butler approaches.

I apologize. I'm having

communication problems with the cook.

Who poured the wine?

Mr. Twain, sir.

It was left for me

in the refrigerator.

I was told to give Mr. Wang

the glass with the sticky stem.

And you didn't ask why?

I was lucky to find

the refrigerator.

- If I may serve the soup now?

- By all means.

Yes, I'm famished.

One moment.

- Where is the soup?

- In your dish, sir.

There is nothing in my dish

but my dish.

- I don't understand, sir.

- Here, take the spoon.

Taste it for yourself.

I see what you mean, sir.

If you'll excuse me, I'd better

have a little talk with the cook.

Murder by starvation.

Maybe that's his game.

- What do you think?

- I don't know. Ask the moose.

He's been watching

since we came in.

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