Murder She Said Page #4

Obviously someone

who knew the body was there.

Any coffee left, Jane?

Help yourself.

- It certainly wasn't one of us.

- Who knows?

Who cares who did it?

The woman was probably a spy.

- That's absurd.

- The police think she was foreign.

Lots of English girls

go to Paris and buy clothes.

Decent ones don't.

Dr Quimper to see you,

Mr Ackenthorpe.

Still getting shot

with revitalizers, Father?

I'll take anything to outlive you lot

and keep my property

from your thieving hands.

I'll go and see if I can be of

any further assistance to the police.

Delicious coffee, Jane.

The Inspector said

he'd be interrogating you all later.

Better get your alibis ready.

He's a bright boy, that one.

The police say

the woman was murdered on Friday

and we were down here last Friday.

They will be interested in all of us.

None of us were here till quite late.

Yes, but the point is,

what were we all doing earlier?

- Albert, what about you?

- Me?

Don't tell me

you were in your office.

- I... well, no.

- Aha!

As a matter of fact, there was

a film that I went to see.

- A Brigitte Bardot?

- Cedric, this is preposterous.

Well, is it, Harold? What about you?

Or can your secretary verify

your movements on that day?

- None of your business.

- I'm in the clear.

- I was at my club.

- It has a back door, hasn't it?

Yes, I think so,

but I didn't get here until Saturday.

You could have lugged the body

up here on Friday, slipped back

and be sitting in your

usual chair when the club closed.

Can one of your

women friends vouch for you?

I'm certain my current comfort

will satisfy the Inspector completely

as no doubt will your secretary.

When you've finished, will you bring

me some coffee into the library?

Certainly, sir.

Well, well. Jumpy, isn't he?

- You're very calm.

- I've no reason not to be.

I've just been thinking.

If that woman was foreign...

Think of girls more often -

it might bring about some changes.

- I know it's laughable.

- I agree.

No, but I mean if she was French,

it could be her I suppose.

I give up. Could be who?

- That Martine woman.

- Martine?

Yes, that French farm girl

we had all the trouble about.

The one

Edmund was so infatuated with.

That was ages ago.

Yes, I know.

Still, I suppose it is possible.

Why should she turn up

dead in our stable 16 years later?

- It's preposterous.

- It isn't my idea.

Whose idea is it then?

Well, Emma's.

Emma?

Emma's?

That's odd.

PauI!

- Darling...

- No, PauI, please!

How much longer will we go on like

this? We've got to tell the old man.

- Not yet. Please, not yet.

- Why? Why?

PauI, I think someone

in the family may be a murderer.

Emma!

I've had a letter.

I can't keep it to myself

any longer. I want you to read it.

I'm afraid

my French isn't up to this yet.

"Dear Miss Ackenthorpe, you will be

surprised to hear after so many years

that you have a sister-in-law.

I married Edmund two days

before he was killed in action.

I decided it was best to forget the

marriage, but I'm coming to England

and I find

I do wish to meet you all.

I write to you instead of your father

because I understand he is a sick man

and my existence may come as a shock

to him as it must be to you all.

Sincerely yours,

Martine Ackenthorpe."

I thought Edmund was killed

before they married.

- That's what we all thought.

- What's on your mind then?

Don't you see? The strangled woman,

it must have been Martine.

If she was really Edmund's widow,

she would have a share in the will.

Oh, I see.

PauI, what should I do?

- Have you told the others?

- No.

I did suggest to Albert that if she

was French, she might be Martine.

What did he say?

He said it was fantastic,

but I think he was worried.

- You have to tell the police.

- They'll think one of us did this.

- What else can you do?

- I don't know. I don't know.

I think you must tell them.

I'll have to think about this.

You'd better go.

- Good afternoon.

- Good afternoon.

- There you are.

- The train was late, Miss Marple.

Oh, good evening, Inspector.

I suppose you knew about

this compact business before I did?

Well...

I thought it best to bring

the Inspector in on this after all.

- Very wise. Very wise.

- I'm glad you think so.

Withholding information

is a very serious matter.

I know. I'm most awfully sorry.

Will you take tea?

Thank you, no.

Do you know what this means -

the compact being stolen from you?

Coffee perhaps?

The thief and the murderer are

almost certainly one and the same

and that he or she is in that house

and that your life may be in danger.

Oh, I say, do you really think so?

I must ask you

to give the whole thing up...

...tonight!

Indeed you must, Miss Marple.

Very well.

I'll give in my notice tomorrow.

Good. That's settled then.

It has to be

a month's notice, you know.

- Will you have a small beer?

- Miss Marple, I...

Oh, what's the use?

- Good night.

- Good night.

Well, now. How did you get on

at the probate registry?

Well, I think in view

of what the Inspector said...

- Did you see the will?

- Yes.

What did it say?

Old Mr Ackenthorpe's father obviously

didn't get on well with him.

I'm not surprised at that. Go on.

The house and the income

from the family fortune are his,

but he can't

touch the fortune itself.

- That's the first point.

- Yes?

The second point is that the fortune

goes to his children on his death,

to Emma, Cedric,

Harold and Albert.

Two of the others named in the will,

Edith and Edmund, are already dead.

Much more for the rest.

Young Alexander,

Edith's son, gets her share.

What about his father?

Next of kin only get a share

if there's no issue of a marriage.

Eastley's only interest

is how much Alexander gets.

- Dr Quimper to see you, sir.

- Oh, yes. Send him in.

Your call to the probate registry

has been usefuI.

- Morning.

- Morning. Sit down.

Thank you.

Have you found out

who the woman is yet?

The French police

haven't come up with anything.

You're assuming she's French?

The clothes and make-up

were made in Paris.

Is that what you wanted

to see me about?

No, sir.

I understand last Christmas, old Mr

Ackenthorpe had a stomach upset.

He's inclined to overindulge

when there's rich food about.

He said you asked questions as though

you suspected arsenic poisoning.

For a moment I did suspect

something was a bit odd.

- Didn't you run a food test?

- No.

- Why not?

- There was nothing positive.

No history of chronic gastric trouble

that one would expect to find in the

classic method of arsenic poisoning.

- You mean small regular doses?

- Exactly.

Excuse me.

Yes?

Oh, put her on.

- Miss Ackenthorpe.

- Emma?

Yes.

- Hello.

- Morning.

I have a letter from...

I see.

Well, would you

read the letter to me?

"Youu will be suurprised

to hear after so many years..."

Thank you. I'd like to send round for

that letter if you don't mind?

We'll check

with the French police. Thank you.

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