The Mirror Crack'd

4

They're waiting for you

in the drawing room, sir.

Thank you, Barnsby.

Oh, Barnsby?

I'd rather like you to join us,

if you don't mind.

Have you found Lady Ridgeley's jewels?

Yes, Inspector,

have you found my cabochon ruby?

No, Your Ladyship,

but I have found something else.

The identity of Lord Fenley's murderer.

Inspector, you're not trying to imply

that one of us could have actually

performed such a loathsome deed?

It's quite ridiculous.

I simply don't believe it.

Not only do I believe it, Mr Montrose,

but I have the evidence to prove it.

All of you had sufficient motive.

It could have been... any one of you.

You, Sir Derek, have been falsifying

the accounts of Finwick Industries

with the help of

your son-in-law Mr Foxwell.

And you were also aware

that Lady Ridgeley

was having an affair with Lord Fenley

which ended abruptly

when he resumed his dalliance

with Lady Foxcroft.

You see, she had stumbled upon

the knowledge that Barnsby was in truth

Lord Fenley's half brother

and the illegitimate father

of Mr Peter Montrose,

who was planning to gain control

of Fenley Industries

with the help of Mr Da Silva,

who risked bankruptcy

if the plot failed.

Yes, you all had motives.

Any one of you could have done it.

But only one of you did.

A person sitting in this room?

At this very moment?

Yes, Miss Kate, in this very room.

This ridiculous cat-and-mouse game

has gone on long enough!

Very well, then.

Lord Fenley's murderer...

Oh dear, oh dear.

Lights, Mr Paycock, please.

I'll have it fixed in no time,

no time at all.

I'd say that's highly unlikely.

Oh, dear.

Now we'll never know who did it.

It does seem rather obvious

who the murderer was.

Who, Miss Marple?

Do tell us. Was it Sir Derek?

I hardly think so, Miss Giles.

It's unlikely he would have

murdered his business partner,

not while he only had

49% of the business,

and the controlling interest

would have reverted to Lord Fenley's

sister, a bitter enemy of Sir Derek's.

I'll bet it was

that young blaggard Lord Peter.

Impossible, Major.

Excuse me, dear.

The only tracks leading to Lord Fenley's

estate that evening were bicycle tracks.

But he hated Lord Fenley.

Yes, but you forget,

young Peter had a birth defect which

caused a malfunction to the inner ear.

This loss of equilibrium in his

system would have made it impossible

for him to maintain his balance

on a bicycle.

Good night, Major.

Excuse me, Mrs Morley-Smith.

Good night, Dolly.

Good night, Jane.

I still say it was that awful butler.

It was Barnsby,

don't you think, Miss Marple?

- I most certainly do not.

- But the revolver in his drawer?

Barnsby had never been

to Lord Fenley's estate'

The footprints

on the night of the murder

led directly to the smaller bedroom

off the left wing

where Lord Fenley

frequently sought privacy.

Whoever killed him knew

how to go directly to that room.

Well, then who did do it, Miss Marple?

Who murdered Lord Fenley?

Why, young Miss Kate, of course.

Why do you say Miss Kate?

Because when the body

of Lord Fenley was discovered,

the knife was firmly implanted

in the chest to the left.

A right-handed person

would have clearly been unable

to strike such a thrust

in that direction.

If you'd looked closely,

you would have noticed

Miss Kate was twirling her pearls

in her left hand.

Good night, Vicar. I'm sure you'll have

this contraption running in no time'

Good night, all.

She could be wrong, you know.

She's not. I've seen the picture.

I never would have guessed that ending.

That girl, she looked so nice.

Human nature, Cherry dear

The world of the cinema, the village,

it's all quite the same, really.

Listen to me, Marty.

I don't care what those tea-guzzling

limey sons of b*tches are demanding,

those tea-guzzling limey sons of b*tches

are gonna make this picture a hit.

So stop playing around

and give them what they want!

Look, I don't want to argue with you.

I'm the director

and if I want three dozen

poker-playing kangaroos with PhDs,

then you'd better damn well

go out and find them.

- Do I make myself clear?

- Absolutely.

- How's Marina?

- Marina?

She's just fine, Marty.

- Thank you, Bates.

- Thank you, Bates.

Mrs Bantry, I really must apologise.

Marina's had to go for

a costume fitting up to town.

Miss Gregg was particularly anxious

that I should tell you how sorry she is

to have missed you today.

Of course, I quite understand.

By the way, what picture

are you over here to make?

- It's called Mary Queen of Scots.

- Really? How very interesting.

Marina was especially keen for me

to double-check with you personally

all the arrangements

for the village fete.

She's terrified no one's gonna come.

We are rather intruders here.

My dear Miss Zielinsky,

Miss Gregg's arrival has caused

considerable excitement.

It's not every day

we have a real-life film star

and her director husband living here

at St Mary Mead.

Oh, Jason, we were just

talking about you.

- Mr Rudd, Mrs Bantry.

- Mrs Bantry.

How do you do?

I cannot tell you how happy my wife

and I are to be in your house.

Mr Rudd, you must get it out of

your head that this is my house.

After the Colonel, my husband, died,

it was much too big for me.

And I'm much more comfortable

down at the lodge'

Well, I really must be on my way.

- Would you like some more tea?

- No more tea, thank you.

- Very nice to have met you, Mr Rudd.

- Very nice to meet you.

No, no, no, please, please.

I think I can find my own way out.

Please give my regards to your wife.

Goodbye, Miss Zielinsky.

Mrs Bantry.

- Where's Marina?

- Upstairs, out like a light.

- Is she taking those damn pills again?

- Well, you shake her, she rattles.

I want her to be happy.

God knows, she's been through enough.

She'll be happy. Till she gets bored

playing the lady of the manor'

Ella!

Sorry.

Don't spoil it.

OK?

OK.

Now, boys.

Don't drink this too quickly.

Otherwise, you're going to have

very sore tummies.

Quite a turn-out.

More like Buckingham Palace

than Gossington Hall.

Mind you,

it plays havoc with the lawn.

Ah, good afternoon, Mrs Bantry,

Miss Giles.

- Afternoon, Major, Jane.

- Darling, Miss Giles.

- Do you think she'll come down?

- Who?

Marina Gregg, the film star!

Really, Miss Marple.

Well, I don't know anything

about film stars, Miss Giles,

but if this gathering is

any indication of her local interest,

I'm sure that Miss Gregg

won't disappoint her fans.

I do hope not.

I'm sure Mr Foxley, our dear postman,

will herald her arrival

with suitable fanfare.

[brass band plays There's

No Business Like Show Business '9

Steady, boys. Don't rush. Don't rush!

Miss Marple, you were right!

Can you turn this way, please?

Just one more?

- Excuse me!

- Thank you.

- Mrs Babcock?

- Yes?

Miss Gregg would like to thank

those of you that worked so hard.

Perhaps you'd like

to come up to the hall.

Yes, indeed! I'd be absolutely thrilled!

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