Murder Most Foul Page #3

Oh, then I am not joking

when I tell you

that if you persist

in joining our profession,

your wisest course is to register

at once for unemployment pay.

That will not be necessary.

I am of independent means.

- Dear lady, I didn't finish.

- You made your view quite clear.

No, no, no. I was about to say that

your performance had great merit.

Your choice of material let you down.

Yes, definitely duchess parts,

regal roles.

I see you with other material

performing like an angel.

Angel?

Is not that the term for

a backer of theatrical enterprises?

Droll, very droll.

I meant that you have a lot

to offer the theatre, Mrs Marble.

- Miss Marple!

- I'm delighted to hear that.

The marital knot is often the bolt on

the door to the room at the top.

Do I take it you are offering

me employment, Mr Cosgood?

Well, as to that,

not exactly employment.

I was thinking rather along

the lines of an apprenticeship.

Unpaid?

Well, in a word, yes.

I accept.

Splendid, splendid.

Welcome to the Cosgood Players.

Well, now as to lodgings,

I prefer to live

cheek by jowl with my colleagues.

Naturally. We're at Westward Ho,

Prescott Street.

Mrs Harris is an excellent landlady.

Good, well, I'll just pick up my

baggage at the YMCA. Au revoir.

- Cosgood...

- Drunk again!

Now look here, George...

This man is not drunk, Mr Cosgood.

He's dead.

Poisoned.

Poisoned?

Poisoned.

Arsenic, I'd say.

The autopsy will prove it.

Nonsense! He drank too much. It's

as plain as the nose on his face.

You say you were on the stage when he

came out from the dressing rooms?

Yes, Inspector.

The curtain is due up in ten minutes

and I now have two roles to play.

There'll be no curtain up today.

My audience will tear the place up!

We'll risk that.

I've got questions to ask.

- Questions? What about?

- A man is dead - it's usual.

Damned inconvenient.

- His dressing room?

- Number two.

Can't you get George off

the stage and come back later?

No, sir. Number two, you said?

- I knew something would happen.

- Really, miss?

Yes, I have premonitions

about these things!

Very interesting.

Well, I told George,

as soon as I saw that strange woman.

- What strange woman?

- The one who came to see Driffold.

- Driffold?

- Driffold Cosgood, Inspector, me.

What about her?

- Her?

- This strange woman.

I'd just auditioned her

when George interrupted.

- Is the lady here now, sir?

- She'll be somewhere...

- She seems to have gone.

- A name and description, Sergeant.

Now, sir,

any idea of this lady's name?

I've seen this before.

Not that one, Inspector, this one.

"Remember September 1951. A rose by

any other name would smell. Ring..."

Miss Marple! I distinctly asked you

not to interfere.

- Inspector, that strange woman is...

- Yes, Miss Marple.

Allow me.

Sergeant, escort her to headquarters

for a complete statement.

I'll see her later.

After you, Sergeant.

Sergeant, are you sure you didn't

mishear what Miss Marple said?

I did not, sir.

No, well. Will you come in please,

Miss Marple?

Almost a draw, Sergeant.

Well, please, sit down.

All right, Miss Marple,

let us suppose, just suppose,

that Mrs McGinty was blackmailing

one of those actors.

Let's say this was the actual

blackmail note she sent.

By all means, Inspector.

As it was lying beside the whisky

bottle in George's dressing room,

she must have sent it to him.

That does spring to mind.

- So she was blackmailing him.

- It would appear so.

If there's anything at all in what

you say, he murdered her.

On the face of it, yes.

Are we to suppose that in a belated

fit of remorse he poisoned himself?

- Perhaps.

- Or did someone else poison him?

Again, perhaps.

Inspector, may I ask you a question?

Please do.

If you had simply found that note

in the victim's dressing room

and knew no more about it, what would

you have made of the affair?

The man was being blackmailed

and had decided to end it all.

Yes, that's what I thought.

It could be that the note was left on

purpose, so you would think that.

Miss Marple, it's been a long day.

What are you suggesting now?

I am suggesting that the murderer

of Mrs McGinty

and the murderer of George Rowton are

one and the same.

As to who murdered George Rowton,

I don't yet know... but I will.

As to who murdered Mrs McGinty,

I do know.

He is being held in Milchester jail

awaiting a retrial,

necessitated by the stubbornness

of a certain member of the jury.

He killed her for her money.

Ah, yes, that 100

that was found by her body...

Doesn't it occur to you, Inspector,

that it wasn't Mrs McGinty's savings

at all, but her pay-off?

So whoever she was blackmailing

brought the money, killed her,

then hearing the lodger,

left her behind in panic?

- No.

- Well then, what?

I propose that, like the note,

the money was left behind

deliberately.

What for?

Obviously so that the police

would leap to the conclusion

they have leapt to.

Miss Marple...

If I were you, I would examine

the bank accounts of these people

to see if one of them

happened to withdraw 100,

either on or about the time

of Mrs McGinty's death.

I will investigate your theories.

In the meantime, please go home

to Milchester and stay there.

I'm afraid that is

out of the question.

My work

will keep me here indefinitely.

Your work?

I have accepted an engagement

with the Cosgood Players

and a Marple's word

is her bond. Good day.

"Actor, playwright, impresario,

a man of many talents..."

Might have used a better photo.

It says here I'm 48!

Listen to this, "Lady Sheila,

stage-struck adopted daughter

of Lord Upward, and bride to be

of juvenile lead Bill Hanson, said" -

and I quote the quote -

"This doesn't alter our wedding

plans, daddy's very democratic."

Bully for daddy, eh Bill?

- Arthur, you're an absolute stinker.

- Crawl back under your stone.

It's all good stuff.

Absolutely no rubbish.

- Notoriety helps the box office.

- Too true.

Have you read this, Ralph?

"Ralph Summers,

matinee idol of Mother's Day,

now an ageing, overweight,

barmaid fancier."

Let me see that!

You're a nasty little joker.

I think that's very funny,

and so true.

That's a nice wifely thing to say.

Your taste does run to barmaids.

There was that one at Milchester.

- Remember...

- Shut up, Maureen!

- Yes, Mrs Harris?

- Your new one's here.

Dear lady, I feared we had created an

unfortunate impression on you

in view of today's accident.

Oh, no.

I had a little business to attend to.

Well, you're here.

Boys and girls, meet Miss Marple.

Miss Marple, the company.

- Hello

- How do you do, everyone.

There's cocoa on the tray.

The beer's extra.

Yes, of course, a nightcap.

Do sit down.

Name your poison, dear lady.

I mean...

Cocoa please, Mr Cosgood.

An excellent brew.

I can recommend it.

By the way,

the police are looking for you.

- Oh, yes, I have spoken to them.

- You have?

Thank you.

Why don't we revive A Kind Of Murder

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