Murder on the Orient Express Page #3

- Bon.

You see some of these

are just scratches

delivered with little force, eh?

But here and here,

delivered with strength.

These are the ones

that killed him, Doctor.

Princess Dragomiroff, please!

My lady is not dressed,

monsieur.

I apologize, but you must come

to the lounge car now, Princess.

What is the problem, monsieur?

I'm waiting for you.

Outside.

Oh.

If I stand here as the murderer,

I find the wounds,

some of them,

they have an angle

that is suited to my right hand.

So...

But others, you see?

Impossible.

They need my left.

We have a left.

We have a right.

We have a weak,

and we have a strong.

So is Ratchett trying to tell us

that he was murdered

by two people?

Please.

Please, sit down.

Ah...

Well, ladies and gentlemen,

I have to tell you

that last night

one of your fellow passengers,

Mr. Ratchett, was, um...

was murdered.

- Murdered?

- Yes.

The detective Hercule Poirot

believes that the murderer

is still on the train with us.

So please... So we have sealed

the Calais coach,

and we request

you do not try to leave.

Of course M. Poirot will be

wanting to interview you all.

How was he murdered?

With a knife.

And what is that?

Eh?

The letter "H."

Well, but maybe Poirot

believes this.

In the ash, you see?

The flat matches.

And here there is

the flat match of Ratchett,

but here is a match made of wood

and a piece of paper

that is burned.

So?

So perhaps Poirot, he is correct

when he suggests

that the match made of wood,

it was struck by someone else...

...and the piece of paper

was burned

because it was

in some way incriminating.

Why do we have to stay

in this car? I don't under...

Uh, ladies and gentlemen,

M. Poirot would like one of you

ladies to lend him a hatbox.

Merci.

My old grandfather had one of

these for the wax mustache also.

Now, if this piece of

paper that is burned...

...is indeed incriminating...

...then I am going to

try to resurrect

what was written on it.

"Aisy Arms. "

What does it mean?

Aisy? Aisy?

Aisy Arms.

Merci.

I think it's nonsense,

isn't it, Poirot?

It doesn't mean anything.

I do not know yet.

Poirot.

Here are

the passengers' passports

you requested, monsieur.

Merci, Michel.

Oh, Michel,

if you please to remain

and talk to me about last night.

Hey, don't worry.

Sit down.

Poirot, Michel is not involved.

Since his wife died,

he is married to the company.

He's our hardest worker.

Ah, Michel, your wife...

How did she die?

Out of grief.

My daughter died,

and my wife followed.

When was this, Michel?

Well, it wasn't last night,

was it?

Leave the poor man alone.

It was a few years ago.

Tell us of last night, Michel.

Well, we stopped

at Vincovci a little late.

A quarter to 12:
00.

Did you get off the train?

Yes, for a chat, but it

was so cold I didn't stay.

And then

Mr. Ratchett cried out

at about half past 12:00.

Ce n'est rien.

Je me suis tromp.

I really thought

he was just having a nightmare.

And then, um, 2:
15,

Mrs. Hubbard...

He was hovering over me like...

like the angel of death.

You remember, monsieur?

Merci.

Merci, Michel.

- Je vous en prie.

And next time you request

a transfer to the Calais coach,

I'm sure it won't be

so dramatic.

For this trip

you request a transfer?

A former colleague of mine

lives in Calais.

I was to visit him.

Yes, Michel normally does

the Paris coach.

- Bien.

- Monsieur.

Did you like your employer?

Oh, I do not find it necessary

to like an employer.

Oh, but I do.

Did you know

that he offered to me a job?

And I did not like him.

Was he, in your opinion,

a gentleman?

Nothing of the kind.

But he had money.

Put a sewer rat in a suit,

and he's still a sewer rat...

He's just in a suit.

Et alors last night

you shared your compartment

with Signor Foscarelli?

And did you stay there

all night?

I read

until 4:
00 in the morning.

Because it was a good book, eh?

Because of toothache.

So you know for a fact

that Signor Foscarelli,

he did not leave the compartment

either last night?

No. He snored.

Does this mean anything to you?

Is it an arms firm?

Was he an arms dealer?

I don't know the name

of that firm.

I met Mr. Ratchett

when I was on my uppers in...

Iraq, we call it now, don't we?

He needed a personal assistant

who was good with languages,

which I am, and he paid well.

And he could not speak

the languages?

Not a word.

A little pidgin Italian.

Which even Italian pigeons would

have found hard to understand.

And where in America

was his home?

He never spoke of it.

He was thinking of buying

in Napoli, but,

well, I don't know whether he'd

have been allowed to go there.

Allowed?

I don't delude myself

by thinking Mr. Ratchett

was not on the run,

from something dark in America,

that he wasn't trying to

buy his way back into society.

He didn't know

that I kept these.

Or that I knew we were going to

Calais to pay that money back.

To whom?

Underworld? Mafia?

But they've set him up,

haven't they?

Smoked him out onto the train

with the money

and settled his debts

in the night.

How much was in the suitcase?

Over $200,000.

I stayed in his employment

because I needed money

to get home.

The name Ratchett...

It is an alias.

If you please to follow me.

$200,000?

A penance.

He told to me.

Something dark in America

from where he is ostracized,

and $200,000 blood money

for which he had to atone.

Don't worry.

This is not Samuel Ratchett.

This is Lanfranco Cassetti...

...who, for $200,000,

kidnapped so notoriously

from the home of her parents

in Long Island, New York,

the young child

Daisy Armstrong.

This devil came for her.

And someone in the house

tried to stop him,

but they were hurt very badly.

Her parents

paid the ransom money.

But young Daisy Armstrong...

...she never returned home.

She had died lonely, scared,

at the hands of Cassetti...

...less than one hour

after he took her.

And after this discovery

so terrible,

Sonia Armstrong

went into premature labor

with a second baby

she was carrying.

And, well, this baby,

it did not live.

And neither did she.

Colonel Armstrong, his heart

now broken beyond repair,

could not bring himself

to face another morning.

So four deaths

at the hands of Cassetti.

Mais non. Non, pardon.

Five.

Because the housemaid,

who was French, I think,

and whom the police

were convinced

had knowledge of this crime

but was innocent,

had also taken her own life

in the police cell.

Cassetti was arrested.

But his Mafia family in Chicago

had the prosecutors and judges

in their pockets,

and evidence, it was misplaced.

And Cassetti, he walked away.

Free.

Excuse me,

but isn't anyone going...

...interview me about the events

of last night?

I happen to have seen

the murderer.

Quoi?

Ladies and gentlemen, please.

First, I really want to

apologize for the lights,

but we are seeing to it now.

Poirot has just identified

Samuel Ratchett

as Lanfranco Cassetti.

Rate this script:2.0 / 1 vote