Murder Most Foul Page #5

A noise!

A step on the stair outside.

I, as the father, am about to enter

with my delinquent son, Stanley -

that's you, Arthur.

Arthur!

Sidney freezes, then darts

to the place of concealment.

Sorry, guv. Testing.

You're back!

All right,

don't stand about grinning!

Just testing indeed. Now where was l?

Ah, yes.

I come in with my son.

I beg him to tell the police all he

knows about Rona La Plante's death.

He sneers at me... rejects me.

Then the climax of the scene -

I detect a movement

behind the alcove curtain.

I cross to it,

pull it aside to reveal...

..Sidney!

- What do you want?

- A call for Miss Marple.

Why didn't you say so?

Miss Marple,

you're not in this scene.

Thank you.

Take it from my entrance.

Bill, you're concealed over here.

Arthur, you and I come in.

You're living here? A son of mine?

Hello?

Yes, Mr Stringer.

You were right, Miss Marple.

Remember September

was put on in 1951 -

a try-out performance

at Pebblestone-on-Sea.

Very interesting,

particularly as the author claims

that he's only recently

completed the work.

That may have been embarrassment.

The Lord Chamberlain's Office

remembers it

because it was booed off the stage

halfway through.

That doesn't surprise me

in the least.

The point is,

was there anyone we know in it?

I have obtained a full cast list

and in it occurs the name

of Margaret McGinty.

What? Really?

Excellent!

Now tell me, apart from Mr Cosgood,

who else in this company was

connected with this production?

No one? You sure?

Yes.

All right, Jim. I was just thinking.

Of course it's possible that someone

has since changed his or her name.

Look, Jim, drop the cast list in

to me at Westward Ho, will you?

Thank you. Goodbye.

Miss Marple.

I'm sorry if I startled you.

Mr Cosgood is asking for you

on the stage.

Thank you. I'll go.

This was in props.

It should do the job.

All right. Let's try it.

Ah, there you are, dear lady.

We've devised an embellishment

to the scene where you confront Ralph

with the truth

about Rona La Plante's death.

Instead of merely knocking over the

lamp and making good his escape,

Ralph suggests

he also attempts to kill you.

- Really?

- Yes.

He knocks over the lamp,

shoots at you and then bolts.

- I see.

- He misses, of course.

Nothing like a loud report

for keeping an audience alive.

- Do you find this alarming?

- Oh, no. Not at all.

Good.

Right, then, let's set the scene.

Ralph, you'll be over here,

rifling the escritoire.

The Honourable Penelope will enter

through the French windows here.

Right! Positions, please.

Miss Marple, in, now.

Ah!

I thought I'd find you here, Faber.

- You!

- Yes, me!

Stay where you are.

Violence will avail you nothing.

The grounds are swarming with police.

- They've nothing on me.

- Oh, yes they have. You see...

You see, Mrs McGinty's dead!

You made a mistake, didn't you?

You certainly did, dear lady.

What did I do?

- You said, "Mrs McGinty's dead".

- Did I?

Yes, it's Rona La Plante who's dead.

Yes, how silly of me.

I must have picked it up from

your play, Remember September.

My play?

There's nobody of that name in it.

How odd.

The name McGinty's on my mind,

for some reason.

I know, it was that barmaid

murdered at Milchester.

There was a trial last week.

Yes... that's it.

May I try it again please?

Yes, yes, only let's do it properly

this time.

I'll do my best.

Positions, please.

All right, Ralph, make your move.

Seen this in the evening paper?

"Police Baffled In Theatre Mystery".

Not that, this.

"Grand Charity Reopening Monday.

Driffold Cosgood proudly presents his

company in a murder drama.

First night proceeds in aid

of the Police Benevolent Fund."

Nice gesture.

I can just hear

the Chief Constable agreeing.

- Have you got those bank statements?

- On your desk, sir.

Well did anyone draw out 100 about

the time of Mrs McGinty's death?

- Yes, sir.

- Well, who?

- The dead man, George Rowton.

- Why didn't you say so?

I just did, sir.

Well, well, well.

It was as simple as that - suicide.

There's a visitor for you.

Oh, thank you.

- In there. He's a male.

- Oh, I see.

- Oh, Inspector.

- Good evening.

Good evening.

I missed you at the police station.

I had no idea you had come here.

No, I'm sure.

Your visit is most inopportune.

At rehearsal today,

I set in train a certain stratagem

which I think will force our murderer

to make a move tonight.

I very much doubt it.

Our murderer, as you put it, is dead.

I beg your pardon?

Look.

George Rowton's bank statement -

important item underlined,

namely a withdrawal of 100.

So that explains it.

- I thought you'd see.

- Yes, indeed.

I admit the motive for Rowton's

murder had eluded me until now.

He wasn't murdered.

He killed himself.

- You really think so?

- It's obvious.

Mrs McGinty blackmailed him, he drew

out of the bank to pay her off,

murdered her and left the money

to incriminate the lodger.

- That theory has a familiar ring.

- What?

Oh, you did suggest

something like that.

The point is, the lodger's innocent.

Rowton did it and then took the easy

way out - couldn't stand the strain.

The case is wrapped up. I'm going

to tell the Chief Constable.

- I wouldn't do that if I were you.

- Why not?

I think you're wrong.

- You do?

- Yes.

I think our murderer got the money to

pay Mrs McGinty off George Rowton

in a way which made it necessary

for Rowton to be disposed of later.

Only a woman's mind

could have dreamt that one up.

It may irritate you, Inspector, that

women sometimes have superior minds.

You will simply have to accept it.

Oh, don't you need this?

Thank you.

- Good night, Miss Marple.

- Good night, Inspector.

- Good evening.

- Good evening.

Oh, that's where you are!

They like to sleep up here

when they can find an empty bed.

Come on, your liver's nice and hot.

Dinner gong in two minutes.

Come on, babies.

Come in.

Miss Marple, I was hoping

to catch you before you went down.

Were you?

Yes, I thought it was time

we had a little chat.

That's it.

Overture and beginners please.

That means you.

- No male friends in rooms, madam.

- Don't be absurd, boy.

Well, perhaps I can escort you down.

I'll give dinner a miss tonight.

I'm feeling a trifle queasy.

- Nothing incapacitating, I trust?

- Oh, no. A good night's rest...

- Well... I'll... leave you then.

- Thank you.

Take care, dear lady. We mustn't

be without you Monday, must we?

Come, Arthur.

Oh, my dear. I was just...

Bitter almonds... cyanide!

Oh!

This is tragic, absolutely tragic.

When the press hear this, we will be

turning them away from the theatre.

We're stuck without

someone to play the housekeeper.

- You can't have it both ways.

- We must!

We owe it to Dorothy.

Eva, no.

You're already the good-time girl and

the vicar's daughter.

Sheila, would you play the

housekeeper if I got you a wig?

Oh, Driffy, you make me sick.

You don't care about poor Dorothy.

Rate this script:0.0 / 0 votes