01x05 - The m*rder at the Vicarage

[bunniefuu]

1915

Look brave.

Thank you, Captain, Mrs Ainsworth.

Can't I come to the station?

I'm not that brave.

Oh, my darling Lizzie.

THE m*rder AT THE VICARAGE

My egg was hard again, Mary

Blame the chicken.

No.

Oh, no.

Yes.

Dennis...

Must you, on a Sunday?

Sorry, Uncle Leonard,
but she's playing up.

You can't go to church like that.

Oh, I'm not anyway. This could be a long job.

- Mary!
- She won't hear you.

Can't even boil an egg!

She's all we can afford,
you old misery.

You knew I couldn't cook
when you married me.

And you knew I was old.

Look at the time!

Oh.

- Morning, Miss Marple.
- Good morning.

How did you manage that, Griselda?

He'll be early for once.

I shall tell you this evening, Jane.

And bring some your damson gin over

It might take the edge off Mary's cooking.

♪ The summer days are come again ♪

♪ Once more the glad earth yields ♪

♪ And deepening shade of summer woods ♪

♪ And glow of summer air ♪

♪ And winging thoughts and happy moods ♪

♪ Of love and joy and prayer... ♪

But every man is tempted

when he is drawn away of his own lust
and enticed.

Then, when lust hath conceived,

it bringeth forth sin,

and sin,

when it is finished,

bringeth forth death.

Here endeth the lesson.

Stop wriggling, Lettice!

- It's Letteece
- Everyone calls you Lettice.

You're not everyone, Lawrence.

Behave. Don't forget where you are.

Steady.

You should be on a calendar.

We could hang it in your father's study.

Oh, Lawrence.

Get an eyeful, creeping around?

She's in her bathing suit.

Mr Redding's an artist.

It's like looking
at a bowl of cherries for him.

Until she takes it off.

You've got an oily nose.

Last Sunday's collection

in aid of the Church
of England Missionary Society,

a total of 18 shillinga 11 pences.
Well done, everybody.

- That can't be right.
- What?

The society benefits enormously
from the efforts we make.

I put in a pound to myself.

I have here a letter of thanks
from the secretary.

Colonel...

Yes, Marjorie?

- There's something wrong...
- What?

Shh!

- What?
- Shh.

You are quite sure?

I always put a pound note into the box

on the anniversary of poor Bruce's passing.

I know, but perhaps this time...

Come on, Miss Marple!

If Marjorie says she put a pound in

then she did, so where's it gone?

I thought you'd be straining

at the leash to sniff out the culprit.

You do have a reputation to maintain.

My reputation,
Colonel Protheroe, if I have one -

how kind of you to suggest I do -
is neither here nor there.

I merely wonder if it's too early
to talk of culprits.

- Nonsense!
- Lucius.

Anne, don't paw me.

Now, look. I'm a church warden,
and I was in intelligence.

I know when something smells fishy.

It could be the tip of the iceberg. Vicar!

Jane, shall we try the Toby Jug
tomorrow just for a change?

Good idea.

Where's Lettice this morning?

- Mr Redding's painting her.
- On a Sunday?

- Mm-hm.
- You don't think...?

He does have a way with him,
but she's just a girl.

I'd plump for an older candidate
if there is somebody.

Don't forget, ladies,
tea and scandal tomorrow at 4:30.

- And I've invited Mrs Lester.
- I'm coming!

Perhaps we'll find out a little more
about her.

Something would be a start.
Fancy staying at the Blue Boar.

Not very homely for her.

Very well-stocked,
if you take my meaning.

- Oh?
- Tipsy at the jumble sale.

Why the dear vicar had to choose
such a shallow wife

and at his age too...

I expect to see a full set
of parish accounts

or I'm going to take this matter further.

Yes? Is that quite clear?

- Yes.
- Tuesday. Vicarage, 6:15 sharp.

I know what you mean.

Colonel, any news
of your architectural sleuths?

Yes, Dr Haydock.

They arrived last night.

They'll be taking photographs
and making drawings. Still

One of the perils

of owning an important house
like Old Hall.

Good day, Doctor.

What a dreadful, dreadful man.

- I'll walk, Daddy.
- No. Get in.

How's the portrait coming along?

Perfectly well, thank you, Anne.

Lettice...I thought he was painting you

- in that pretty blue dress of yours.
- Yes...

but today he was just doing my hands

so I didn't bother to wear it.

What have you got in there?

Nothing.

Let me see.

Come.

I-It's more artistic.

There's art and there's smut!

How dare he? And how dare you?

Ssh, ssh.

Don't shout, for goodness' sake.

I'll fight my own battles.
Thank you, Anne.

I was thinking of our guests.

Good morning, Professor.

Do you have everything you need?

Thank you, yes. Your so charming
daughter was most helpful.

Stepdaughter.

Ah, la Belle au Bois dormant, s'eveille.

Je m'excuse, grand-père. Good morning.

Morning, mademoiselle.
Lunch will be at half past twelve.

My husband's very keen to hear
about your research.

We are flattered, aren't we, Grandfather?

Not as much as he is.

Permitting that sort of behaviour
in your own garden, Vicar?

No, no. I mean it's...
it's utterly unacceptable.

Now, Mr Redding's telephone
number, please.

Isn't it gorgeous?

Nothing quite so beautiful
as an English summer's evening.

For our hostess? How lovely!

Not as lovely as that stuff, I hear.

Shall we?

Oh, thank you.

Bless this food to our use
and us to thy loving

and faithful service

nourished by the fruit of your earth

and by the work of human hands.

May we render you true obedience, Lord

and bend ourselves to thy will.

And make us ever needful
of the minds of others.

Er, ever mindful of the needs
of others. Amen.

Amen.

Well, I can only apologise.

The colonel's always looking
for an excuse to criticise.

I hope you're not painting Griselda
in a bathing suit?

Miss Marple, that's disgusting.

- Thank you.
- Certainly not.

But you must come to see it, Mr Clement.

It's at that very interesting stage.

- Like Dennis?
- Oh, ha-ha.

- Pop over tomorrow, around teatime.
- I will.

- What is this, Mary?
- Soup.

Does it have a name?

"bis and bobs and odds and sods

and the meat raion's been cut again" soup.

Sorry. Sorry.

You're a bag of nerves this evening, Mr Hawes.

Not just tonight.
May I have a glass of water?

Anyone else? No, thank you.

If it wasn't for my medicine, you see...

Don't worry, you can't catch nerves.

It's a wretched affliction
I bear with God's grace.

Talking of wretched afflictions

Ronnie, Colonel Protheroe on Tuesday.

Can you get the parish accounts
into some sort of order?

- I'll try.
- I could strangle Protheroe sometimes.

- May God forgive me.
- I'd stab him.

- I'd poison him.
- I'd sh**t him.

- Use my g*n.
- He's so rotten to Lettice.

- Aw.
- Just because he bought Old Hall,

he thinks he's the local squire something.

You can't treat people like that now.

You're quite right.
And how would you do it, Miss Marple?

I never speak lightly of m*rder, Mr Redding.

I hate to tempt fate.

Surely not in this lovely place?

We're all very ordinary in St Mary Mead,

but ordinary people sometimes do
the most astonishing things

- Do you really have a p*stol?
- Somewhere. It's German.

- I liberated it.
- Were you wonderfully brave?

Very well-trained, but scared to death.

I'll clear in five minutes.

Fish and turnip stew-mostly turnip.

Oh, bring the apricot chutney, will you?

St Mary Mead vicarage.

No, Frankie, I can't.

But you'lI have your mum there.

Who's the magistrate?

That'll be two-quid fine at least

How are we ever going to save up to get a...

I am very sorry
but you have mistook a wrong number.

I forbid you to see him again!

He was only painting me.

I wish he were doing
something else stupid

the fuss you're making.

- Don't be common!
- Well, don't be horrid, then.

You've driven the Dufosses to bed
because your foul mood.

- Well, you blood can go too!
- Gladly.

- Sit down. We haven't finished.
- Good night, Lucius.

There are those

who take a romantic view
of poaching, Tarrant.

I do not.

- This time, you'll go to prison.
- Sir, you can't, sir!

- All right, Mum.
- Madam, sit down.

- 28 days.
- I'll lose my job, you old b*stard.



St Mary Mead vicarage.

It's not fair!

- Mary? I
- 'm going out!

It's not just the difference in our ages, Jane.

The vicar and his wife are perfectly happy.

They'd be happier with a child, I think.

It would be their own.

Lettice was two when her mother died.

By the time I married Lucius,
she was too old to think of me

as anything other than
the wicked stepmother.

I get on her nerves, and...

..I'm afraid she gets on mine.

That makes him angry -
even angrier than normal.

Might you have a child of your own one day?

No.

That...side of things has...

dwindled rather.

Completely.

I need tenderness, Jane.

And that's just not in his nature.

Thank you.

Sorry.

Oh, we all have to get things
off our chest occasionally.

Still... I married him for a kind of certainty.

We all wanted certainty
after the w*r, didn't we?

I must settle for what I've got.

- Make do and mend?
- Make do.

And at least
there once was someone tender,

but he didn't come back from the fighting.

Jane, I knew you'd come.

- I had to.
- Oh, my darling.

There's our lift

We'd better not keep him waiting.

Bloody fool!

Help me!

Are you hurt?

No. Oh!

- Yes.
- Caught her ankle.

Oh...

I'm so terribly sorry.

It wasn't your fault.

It has to support the sprain.

I have a stick in the car.

You might be able to hobble by tomorrow.

I don't want to be a hobbler, Dr Haydock.

Shall I make some tea?

Apparently, that won't be necessary.

It seems tea and scandal are coming to us.

I am lost. The small drawing room
with the Flemish tapestry

and the magnificent ceiling?

Two down on the other side.
That's my father's study.

- Heard me, then?
- How could I not, Dennis?

- Want to go for a ride?
- On that thing?

- Last year, we...
- I was 16 and it was fun.

Well, I haven't seen Lawrence Redding
in a sports car.

He would if he had the money

and he'd look so wonderfully...mature.

See you tomorrow for tennis?

Oh, yes, tennis with Dennis.

How did he get on?

A month inside. Protheroe.

Mr Redding, you should shut this away.

Probably.

Here's one for you next time
you're in the Blue Boar.

You sure you don't want me
to start locking up when I go?

This is the heart of England, Mrs T.

Besides, lock up the house
and you lock out love.

Oh, my Lord! In her bathing suit?

The colonel won't have liked that
from what I've seen.

Looks like he's got a poker up his bum.

At least one.

Will you be staying long
in St Mary Mead, Mrs Lester?

Sylvia, please.

- I shall have to see.
- We're not too quiet for you?

Like a millpond.
But a change is as good as a rest.

A change...from what...exactly?

My helter-skelter life, Miss Hartnell.

If you'll excuse me, I must...

I must see how
Griselda's portrait is coming along.

I do hope you like it, darling.

- Goodbye.
- Bye.

- Good afternoon, Vicar.
- Goodbye.

And what are you wearing for Mr Redding?

Just my dignity, Mrs Price-Ridley,

and a pink feather boa.

Really, Griselda!

I think I'll just refresh the pot.

Now, who'd like a stiffener in their Darjeeling?

Oh, I...

- Vicar...
- No...

I'd forgotten you were coming.

Is he doing Mrs Protheroe too?

Quite a busy boy with his brush.

She offered to come to London, but...

Well, I came here to get away from it and...

Well, Anne wouldn't be suited to the...

the madness of my life there.

And I wouldn't want her to be.
I'm tired of it.

I'm tired of being wild.

You're quite wild enough for us.

I just feel that I've let you all down.

I've been happier in St Mary Mead

than I've ever been in my life.

Even my work's better, I think.

- That's certainly less wild.
- But you must end it.

- I can't.
- Then you should consider leaving.

Think of her reputation.

You are the only one who knows.

Yet. You only have to sneeze
in this village for someone to--

Miss Bourne's here
about next week's flowers.

Oh, she's late. That's not like her.

Please, please think about what I've said.

Old Hall. Good evening.

Yes, he is. Who shall I say?

I'll have to give a name, madam.

RESIDENTS ONLY

What do you want, Sylvia?

To tell you something,

and see that stiff upper lip wobble

as if you were facing a firing squad.

Last cigarette?

Blindfold?

Bang.

- I'll manage the stairs by tomorrow.
- Dressing gown?

Yes, please.

How was the portrait?

A brief viewing?

You saw. I'm afraid we all did.

Griselda was horrified when I told her.

If Protheroe finds out...

Now, I know he's a brute,
but Anne married him,

and I believe in the sanctity of marriage.

I'm so lucky.

She could have had anyone.

She chose you.

It's been the best three years of my life.

Here we are.

Hairbrush, mirror and book.

Is it a good read?

Betcha life it is, padre.

Anything else from the dressing table?

No.

Beautiful.

A perfect example for this period.

Indeed. When are you going to publish?

Autumn is the next edition of our journal.

- Ah.
- It will be all English country houses.

- I will send you a copy from Paris.
- I'll make a note of it.

How is France now?

France? And, well, what do you say?

We are getting on our feet.

How was your w*r?

Bad things happened.

And yours, Colonel?

Unfortunately, I, er...

I am not at liberty to discuss my service.

- Lucius...
- Hmm? Ah. Good day to you.

I'll be back on the 5:30.

I have a meeting with
Mrs Ross-Harkins after court.

Don't forget the vicarage
at a quarter past six.

Aren't there any sales in Melchester?

London is London.

Well, don't buy too much.

There won't be too much!

- Dennis is taking me.
- What?

- Only to the station.
- Oh.

- Bye.
- Bye.

- Oh, look at this scratch!
- Well, what about my wheel?

You weren't looking, you fool!

Mind on other things, I dare say,
like those accounts.

- What do you mean?
- Well, we'll see what I mean.

Just make sure the vicar has them
for six fifteen.

It does have brakes, you know,
this car

Good God, woman!

Thank you.

- Ah, Mrs Clement.
- Colonel.

Melchester?

London.

I trust your garden shed

will shortly be restored
to its proper purpose.

It has never had an improper purpose.

Clearly our standards are different.

Clearly, I'm glad to say.

I beg your pardon?

Why are you so dreadful to Len?

He's a good, honest man

who tries to set an example of
Christian charity.

Perhaps charity can begin
too close to home.

Return to Melchester, please.

Mr Redding ran after the vicar

and Mrs Protheroe had her shoes off

and I'm sure you could see her petticoat.

When I went to pay my paper bill
this morning,

Florrie Ranby said
she wasn't at all surprised,

and, of course,
Miss Marple knew it was someone older.

The colonel read
a most apt lesson on Sunday

had he but known it:

"When lust hath conceived,

it bringeth forth sin."

I have to put this right.

My parents want me to go to Kenya

help them manage the farm.

You could try for university.

I would if I had something else to stay for.

Dennis... Apart from anything...

well, you know Daddy,

money or prospects.
- Nought out of two.

- You mean, if it wasn't for him...?
- No.

Well, who knows?

Can't we just be friends?

You can forget about Lawrence.

Uncle Len walked in
on him and your stepmother

and he wasn't painting her.

- Shall I be mother?
- Thank you.

I do love her, you know.
It's not just about...

Sex?

I keep thinking about what
the vicar said about people knowing,

and I got a very strange look

in the newsagent's from Mrs Whale.

Well, she's got wind of things.

The only reason Mr Goldworthy
knew about his wife and the Gl

was when he heard Mrs Whale mention
the nylon stockings

and the chewing gum.

I'll have to leave, for Anne's sake.

That's very brave.

Yes, well, I'll soon be over it.

You won't.

Not for a long while.

Nothing gets past you,
Miss Marple, does it?

Hardly ever, young man.

I'll tell the vicar now.

- He won't be back from his calls yet.
- Nor will he.

There is something
I could do for you, Miss Marple.

If you'd like.

Mr Redding in the study.

It's the right decision.

Have you told her?

- I need to find the words.
- You will.

Well, you're very trusting.

I'm not that sure of myself.

I'll clear out the shed.

Thank you for letting me set up in there.

- That was Griselda.
- I never did finish her painting.

You're a very lucky man.

Look after her for me, won't you?

Anne, I mean.

Et maintenant...
Maintenant qu'est-ce qu'on fait?

Sois patient. Je dois penser.

Ah, Mary.
Erm, old Mr Abbott over at Lower Farm,

his neighbour's telephoned to say
he's poorly again,

so I won't be back by 6:15.

Apologise to Colonel Protheroe
and ask him to wait for me.

I'll be as nice as I can.

I can still see it now,

his first day in the village.

'It was one of those moments

when you know
that nothing will ever be the same again.

He reminded me
of what might have been...

..in the days
when I still hoped for happiness.

There can be happiness in acceptance,

you know, of what can't change.

Can there?

Thank you, Jane.

What for?

For not judging me.

- He'll be late.
- Oh, it's all right.

- I'll wait.
- You'll have to, won't you?

Oh, thank you.

There's a sweet little crested

wren that likes this side of the woods.

Did Lawrence mention the future at all?

I'll go, I'll go.

St Mary Mead 235.

It was for me.

- For you?
- I'm...wanted at the vicarage.

Sorry.

Bonsoir, Monsieur le Professeur.

Ah, bonsoir, madame.

A beautiful evening for walking, no?

If only I could.

Oh.

Goodbye, Mr Redding.

Bonsoir, madame.

Ou est-ce que tu as ete?

Oh, une petite promenade, c'est tout.

- If you're going back now, may I join you?
- Yes.

Thank you.

A large one. I've had a hell of a day.

Good evening, Mary.

- Wait in the study with the colonel.
- He's here?

He is.

Show me your ways, O Lord,
teach me your paths.

Guide me in your truth and teach me.

Show me your ways, O Lord,
teach me your paths.

Guide me in your truth and teach me.
What must I do?

What must I do?

Did you want to see me again?

Mr Redding?

- How's Mr Abbott?
- Convalescing in Bournemouth.

Someone's idea of a joke.

No, no. No.

Detective Inspector Slack.

Leonard Clement. I'm the vicar.

The collar's a clue. Is the doctor here?

Yes.

Len, what's going on?

HaIf an hour, at a guess.

Certainly no more than 30 minutes
before my examination.

Which was when?

Well, the vicar found him
at just gone quarter to seven.

I'm only down the road...
Say I got here at ten to.

Almost spot on.

Time of death about 6:20, then.

Better than almost.

Give the man a coconut.

"Dear Vicar,

I'm afraid I cannot wait for you any longer,

but must..."

- That's it.
- p*stol?

Yes.

Are these always open?

Usually, in this weather.

So, the vicar's
called away with a bogus message,

m*rder*r comes in through the garden.

Victim writing a note with back turned.

That's how and when.

Just why and who?

The lady in the cottage with a view
of the back here...

- Miss Marple?
- I need to interview her.

Would you tag along?
These old maids tend to get nervous.

If you're not quite sure of something

I'll wait until you have a little think.

Did you see anyone enter the vicarage

around 20 past six?

Yes. Mrs Protheroe.

Is that when you think he was k*lled?

It looks like it.

How's your hearing?

It's excellent.

So you would have heard a g*n fired
from the vicarage?

It's hard to say. I did hear a shot

about 6:30 in the woods, I thought,

which is not unusual, but...

Whether one could tell the difference...

What about this artist, Mr Redding?

Well, he looked terribly shocked.

I assumed he'd discovered the body.

Of course, he and the colonel...

He'd been painting Lettice - in a bathing suit.

Oh, avant-garde. Is that the term?

I don't believe it.

What? At the vicarage?

- Yes, ma'am.
- Anne?

Lucius is dead.

Is it really true, Mr Hawes?

- I heard it at the station.
- Yes.

I'm on my way to the vicarage.

- Was there much blood?
- How would I know that?

No.

Do you think it was a crime of passion?

After all, Mrs Protheroe and Mr Redding...

Fornication always has consequences,

but I don't think
we should jump to conclusions.

The colonel was not much liked
by anyone, was he?

No. I'm afraid not.

Of course, his appointment

with the vicar was hardly a secret.

Are there any secrets in St Mary Mead?

Lots. Yet. I hope.

I want to talk to someone.

- When was this?
- Didn't Mary hear anything?

Her wireless was turned up
full blast as usual.

No. Wait till I get there.

She did hear the colonel sneeze very loudly.

Who's speaking to him? I'll be right there.

That's how, when and who.

Now for why

Lawrence Redding just walked
into the station and confessed,

and he's brought the m*rder weapon.

Good night.

Old Hall.

It is terrible.

We will leave on the afternoon train, of course.

Has the police an idea
of who could do this thing?

I have.

It's the police, madam.

Excuse me.

No, Inspector, he can't. He... I can't...

Why does Inspector Slack

think the coloneI was shot at 20 past six?

He'd started writing a note to vicar
saying he couldn't wait

- He'd put the time on it.
- Had he?

And the clock stopped at just gone 6:20.

He knocked it off the desk
when he took the b*llet.

Oh, dear.

I'm afraid I must put
a cat amongst the Inspector's pigeons.

He was going on and on
about his daughter,

which was just her silly little crush,

so I told him it was his wife

he had to worry about, just to shut him up.

Then he really started.

I thought about what I was leaving her to...

and I shot him.

The Chief Constable sends his regards.

Isn't that lovely?

I have been of some assistance to him
from time to time.

He said.

It's the clock.

I happen to know Mrs Clement

put it a quarter of an hour fast on Sunday

to improve the vicar's punctuality.

Well, wonderful. Did it work?

- Yes.
- I'm glad to hear it.

So, either it was really five past six
when it stopped,

before the colonel even arrived
for his appointment,

or the m*rder*r moved the hands back

to match the time on the note.

It still fits - the artistic touch.

But Mr Redding was in the lane
at 20 past six.

- I saw him.
- You may well have done, Miss Marple,

but he k*lled the colonel at 6.45.
Mary let him in.

- The vicar saw him leave.
- 6:45?

But I only examined at ten to.

And told me that he'd died

- within the last 30 minutes.
- At the most, I said.





but if Redding says he shot him
at 6:45, he's lying.

And doctors are never wrong?

I've got a confession.

If the b*llet k*lling the colonel doesn't

match Redding's g*n, I'll eat my handcuffs.

Sometimes,
the simple explanation is the right one.

Last night's wasn't.

I'll have someone see you out.

If he was shot at a quarter to seven,

why had he stopped in the middle of a sentence

at 20 past six?

- Anne...
- I have to telephone the police.

I'd like someone with me.

- I k*lled him.
- What time?

Miss Marple saw me going at about 20 past six.

I just...

I just hated him so much, I shot him.

With?

His old service revolver

He always kept it loaded and I took it.

- Anne, you didn't have a g*n.
- It was in my bag.

You didn't have a bag.

There was nowhere else it could have been,
not in that dress

St Mary Mead 23...

Yes, speaking.

Is that definite?

Right.

I don't like my time wasted, Mrs Protheroe.

The b*llet that k*lled your husband

was fired from Mr Redding's g*n.

- But he did it for me.
- He didn't do it for anyone.

I released him half an hour ago.

He just happened to be carrying his g*n

which I don't believe.

And more important,
and something that you didn't think of,

if the coloneI was shot at a quarter to seven,

why did he stop the note like that at 6:20?

- Oh, yes.
- Hm-hm.

Er...

- But if it was his g*n...
- We'll find out.

He thinks I'm arresting you for m*rder.

- Anne!
- Lawrence!

Sealed with a loving kiss?

It's to my Frank.

Is he allowed to receive letters

when he's not breaking rocks?

He ain't doing hard labour.

Who would have thought it, though?
Mr Redding.

Such a nice young man.

Nice enough to keep a g*n in the house?

I blame that Mrs Protheroe.
The way she swans around.

You'd think she was in a magazine,
the look of her.

She put Mr Redding up to it, if you ask me.

Excuse me.

My football pools.

You never know. I only just missed out
on £1,000 last week.

Money is the root of all evil.

I'd give it space in my garden.

Bye.

Oh, I'd better...
I don't want to speak out of turn,

especially if it wasn't anything.

The police have released Lawrence.

- Mr Redding.
- Have they? Then, I wonder...

This must be so unsettling for you.

I can't bear it.

I was on my way to the church, Mrs Clement.

Shall we pray together?

Erm...I-I need to find Mr Charlesworth

before he closes for lunch.

I need some of those...

Oh, whatever you call them!
Good and sharp.

Mrs Protheroe was only out of sight
for 30 seconds at most

then she went into the shed.

Mr Redding joined her from the lane.

He told me he was saying goodbye to her,
leaving the village

She must have been terribly upset.

They stayed there for ten minutes or so.

The church clock struck a half hour.

They came out again,
meeting Monsieur Dufosse,

who appeared from the footpath to Old Hall.

Then his granddaughter arrived.

- Dufosse?
- Mm. Guests of the Protheroes.

You don't keep it shut away?

Yes, yes, I know, I know I should.

Mrs Tarrant who mucks me out

is always telling me off about that,

and I never lock up during the day.

Did you recognise...

When was the last time

you saw the g*n before it turned up
in the study?

Erm...the day before yesterday.

Did you recognise the voice...

Wouldn't you prefer to rest your ankle,
Miss Marple?

No, thank you.
Did you recognise the voice on the telephone?

No. It just said to come straight over
to the vicarage

if I didn't want Lucius to find out about us.

- A man or woman?
- A woman. I think.

It did sound quite faint

as if someone was
holding the receiver away from them.

- So it could have been a man.
- Well spotted, Vicar.

- Who knew you were at Miss Marple's?
- No one.

Someone must have seen me arrive.

Er...watching me.

My husband's dead. I...

So, you came through the garden,
and up to the French windows

and then what happened?

Yes, they were open,
but I didn't hear any voices.

I looked in and no-one was here,
so I went up to the shed

to see if I could find Lawrence.

No-one here? That's impossible.

Did you come right in?

No. I just...popped my head in.

Ah. It's the biggest aspidistra in the world.

If the coloneI was here at the desk

you wouldn't have seen him alive or dead.

Sit down.

A drink at the Blue Boar

then you returned to see the vicar again

about your situation, and then what?

The authorised version this time.

I came in. He was dead. I saw my g*n.

I thought that Anne had finally had enough

so I picked it up

- and I left.
- And you confessed to protect her.

And you returned the favour

because you thought he'd done it.

Very love's young dream.

I bet you two are down the Odeon every Friday.

Tell your guests I need to speak to them.

Don't think about leaving this village
until I say so. Go.

Erm... Sorry.

Excuse me.

You don't like Mr Clement, do you?

Nothing personal.

Vicars in general...remind me of marriage.

- Ah...of course.
- Of course what?

Miss Hartnell's cousin's maid

is just walking out with a butcher's boy
from Melchester

who delivers to your mother-in-Law.

Mrs Slack has been staying with her for a...

little holiday, I gather.

A little two-month six-day holiday, so far.

- Oh, dear.
- Hm.

Of course

I've only got Mr Clement's word
about the bogus call.

Surely you don't suspect him?

- Erm...
- May I?

Please.



"I'm afraid I cannot wait for you any longer."

The colonel was...not the most patient of men,

but the vicar would only have been

five minutes late at 20 past six.

Mary had warned him he wouldn't be on time

when she showed him in.

Hm. 6:20.

The ink is...don't you think,

blue-black,

rather than blue?

Yes, and the writing's smaller. Mm.

Thank you, Miss Marple.

That means he could have been shot after 6:20,

and then the m*rder*r put that onto the note

and then altered the clock...

..to the time when Mrs Protheroe came here

in answer to her anonymous telephone call.

And Mr Redding's g*n as the m*rder weapon.

I think they were being...er...

..set up as pasties.

Patsies...it is.

Mm.

Thank you, Inspector.

Sorry. Sorry, I'll come back.
I was looking for some...

You're exactly where he was k*lled, aren't you?

How horrible. Do you know who did it?

Not yet, no.

"'Vengeance is mine. I will repay,' saith the Lord."

Well, someone beat the Lord to it.

I need some water. For my medicine.

But supposing he was k*lled at 6:30?

That would tie in with the shot that you heard.

If it was from here.

You're sure the only person you saw come in

was Mrs Protheroe at 6:20?

Through the garden, certainly

but I can't see the French windows
from my cottage.

and the woods come right up on this side.

It would be a scramble,
but if one was determined

or if one came in through the hall.

The colonel was deaf,
so they could creep up behind him.

The hall? No, no

cos Mary would have let them in the front door.

Hasn't she told you it's often left open?

Mary!

Is this wise?

You're not exactly green-fingered.

Oh, don't fuss, darling! Trust me.

Pass those scissory things, would you?

Len?

Sorry.

Thank you. Ooh!

WATCH YOUR WIFE CHAPTER 7 VERSE 2

- Oh!
- Sorry to startle you, Lettice.

- You have my deepest sympathy.
- Oh. Yes.

Mm. Do you know
you've got some paint on you?

That's been there ages.
I must have it cleaned.

You haven't seen a yellow beret?

- No.
- I'm sure I left it in here last week

- when I came to see Dennis.
- I'm sorry.

You? Gardening?

Well, I have to do something.

- What did you bring back yesterday?
- Hm?

- From London.
- Oh, yes, London.

- I couldn't find a thing I wanted.
- Not like you.

- Bye.
- Bye.

I had a man-to-man word
with the photographer.

- He said he'd send me
- Shh! Let me just look at you.

- He'll start clearing it out tomorrow.
- It's a shame.

He was on his way to getting me.
Don't you think?

Was he?

Oh, you silly man!

Yes, he's charming,

yes, he's like a breath of fresh air
in the village

yes, I was flattered, but...

no.

You are my husband, Len.

I would never deceive you.

Unless it was for the best.

There was a single b*llet wound
to the back of the head,

which I concluded was the cause of death.

Did you fomarlly estimate
the time of death, Dr Haydock?

Between 6:20 or thereabouts
and 6.40 at the latest.

Thank you

I showed him in at 6:15
and then went back to the kitchen.

He wasn't half looking pleased with himself

though, like the cat that got the cream.

Then I heard him
give a blooming great sneeze

about five minutes after,

and the next time I see him,

- he was dead.
- Very well, Miss Hill. Step down.

Did you know the colonel sent
her young man to prison?

Frank Tarrant.

Lastly, Mrs Protheroe,
can you think of anyone

who might have wished your husband harm?

No. No-one at all, I'm afraid.

- Thank you.
- Although...

-Yes?
- On Monday in Melchester High Street,

he was nearly hit by a motorcycle.

Are you suggesting this was deliberate?

It didn't seem so at the time.

I just thought I should mention it.

I find that the deceased

Colonel Lucius Alexander Protheroe,

was m*rder*d
by a person or persons unknown.

Did you wonder about the motorbike?

It was just going too fast, I thought.

He did come very close, though.

He or she. One couldn't tell.

By the way, when the colonel

stayed late in Melchester
on Tuesday afternoon,

- what was he doing?
- Meeting Mrs Ross-Harkins, I think.

- Hermione? The bishop's wife,
and his fellow magistrate too.

Inspector, please find out who did this.

If someone tried to make it look as if...

Well, they must hate
Lawrence and me very much, and er...

Well, I'm scared.

Wait.

Oh.

This was outside the French windows.

No one at the vicarage smokes.

- Dennis sneaking a crafty one?
- Sniff.

French.
Young men on leave a long time ago

they'd bring them back from France.

When Monsieur Dufosse
appeared on the footpath,

I wonder if he'd only just turned into it
from the woods.

Look, it's easy to imagine

all kinds of things after the event,

- but the simple fact is...
- m*rder is never simple.

We would be foolish, stupid,
to ignore any possibility.

We?

Did I say that?

So sorry.

I don't know whether to buy her
a box of chocs

or kick away her stick.

I'd prefer the chocolates.

How marvellous that you're not in black.
It's so dreary.

- Should I know you?
- I want you to.

- Who are you?
- Ah."Who is Sylvia?

What is she?"

Let's have a little chat.

I made a walk along the footpath.

It is very beautiful.

Did you go into the woods, Mr Dufosse?

No. Footpath only.

When do you go back to France?

We have missed the good connection now.

Tomorrow by the first train.

I might need to get in touch with you.

What's this magazine of yours called?

You'll have to spell it.

And the bishop and his wife
get back tomorrow?

Would you please be kind to ask
Hermione to telephone me

as soon as they get back to Melchester?

Jane Marple.

It might, yes.

Very important indeed.

Anne gets the hall.

But you can set up on your own.

I'll help you look for somewhere.

- He's only been dead two days.
- So? You hated him.

- The k*ller did you a favour.
- Dennis!

- It's true.
- I'm going in.

Why did you tell Miss Marple
you lost your beret?

- You had it at tennis.
- Were you listening?

And you left before we finished the game.

And you went soon after.
The gardener told me.

Yes. But you don't think
I could have k*lled your father.

You don't think I care enough about you.

- I know who did it.
- There you are.

Two birds, one stone.

Perhaps you could tell me

where you both were on Tuesday evening.

Together. We played tennis.

Then we went for a walk. In the woods.

Yes, the woods, rolling around

over towards Much Benham.
It was a smashing evening.

Wasn't it?

Hello, Tony? It's Joan Hargreaves.

I need a favour. Is your place anywhere
near St Mary Mead?

I left the ledgers on the desk

so you'd have them to hand
when the colonel arrived.

You don't think the...m*rder*r took them?

No. I expect Mary's been moving things.

Were they all in order, by the way?

Mrs Price-Ridley's pound note
was counted in

with the jumble sale money.

I went back over the last six months

and everything balances.

As we knew it would.

"Lust bringeth forth sin

and sin bringeth forth death."

I...I can't stay in here.

I don't know what to do.

Suddenly, we just seem so...distant.

What would you like to do?

Oh...

Walk away, just the two of us

into a crisp and snowy morning.

Then paint it.

The sneeze that Mary heard

that could have been the m*rder*r,
couldn't it?

And Anne was there.

I just hope she's safe.

He is early, your friend. Good.

Bonjour.

The magazine you work for
went out of business before w*r.

Now, what have you got? The silver?

My grandson, Henri.

He would have been my husband.

We met in 1943.

- He was in the Resistance.
- And you, Miss Hargreaves?

Special Operations.

I was dropped into France,
working with Henri and his crew.

- The colonel?
- He commanded a desk in London.

Il a trahi Henri.

- He betrayed him.
- He betrayed my grandson.

Protheroe's section was responsible

for supplying the whole of our region,

weapons, detonators and so on.

Early in'44, he had to organise a money drop

tens of thousands of francs in cash.

Henri and I waited
at the rendezvous he'd given us,

but the plane went over

and dropped the canister a mile away.

- Why?
- The rendezvous was false.

The money was picked up
by a man called Lacombe,

one of our group,
who had known Protheroe before the w*r.

It was simple greed.

After the w*r,
they divided it between them.

Lacombe and the colonel.

Lacombe made a confession to me,
last year when he was dying

That's the proof: bank transfers,
statements

Lacombe's instructions.

What happened to Henri?

Lacombe had tipped off the Germans
and they came for us.

I escaped.

- He did not.
- He was tortured...until death.

My grandson.

- I'm very sorry.
- And so am I.

So am I. I'll tell you the truth.

I had to k*ll that son of a b*tch, the colonel!

Because of him. And so,

I got my p*stol, I went to the woods,

up to the vicarage,

through the French windows and into the study.

- Ah...
- Yes, Mr Dufosse?

I was too late.

I was too damn late!

He was dead.

- Are you saying...?
- I'm saying...

he was already dead.

Thankfully.

You're quite good at this.

- I've had to learn
- Oh

So,if what he told you is true,
the colonel was dead by 6:30

when Monsieur Dufosse joined the others.

Only just,
if the shot you heard was the m*rder.

- Do you believe him?
- Yes.

But the interesting thing is

what Monsieur Dufosse saw in the study.

He described the g*n as having a long barrel,

you know, like the old Wild West ones?

And he thought the note

was a good half page long,
not just a couple of lines.

That is interesting.

I don't know how reliable he is, though.

He had just come in out of bright sunlight...

..and he is getting on.

You've missed a bit.

The note...

Have you shown it to Mrs Protheroe?

No, actually.

She's at the vicarage now, I believe.

Funeral arrangements.

Neither is in his writing,
not the time or the words.

I don't understand.

You're not alone at this stage
of the investigation.

Do you have any examples
of the colonel's handwriting?

Yes, of course.

I found it yesterday under the desk.

It's not Griselda's.

It's Anne's.

- Should I give it to the Inspector?
- No.

Not just yet.

Sir, can I have a word?

How very unpleasant.

The verse?

"To avoid fornication,
let every man have his own wife

"and let every woman have her own husband."

The motorbike was stolen in the morning

and dumped soon after the incident.

Such a...crude and uncertain way
of k*lling someone,

- unless it was just meant to frighten him.
- I, er...

I must get on with my visiting.

I can...see myself out.

We'll get back to Mrs Protheroe.

Hello, Miss Marple.

I was thinking about leaving this one.

I might come back and finish it one day.

When do you go?

I don't know. Tomorrow or the next day.

As soon as I can clean out the cottage.

Back to London?

I was thinking about Ireland.

Put some real distance between us.

You'll find a new life in time.

- But Anne won't, will she?
- I'll do my best for her.

She's a good friend.

Thank you. Thank you for everything.

You've been crying?

Pot and kettle, dear.

I have some things to discuss.

Not very clever
to use your scented notepaper.

Where are people's standards?
That's what worries me.

This young man
Mrs Clement was seen with in Melchester...

Miss Hartnell said he was rather handsome

and he gave her flowers.

I'm sure there's an innocent explanation,
but even so,

really, Marjorie...

I'm so ashamed, Jane.

What would Bruce think of me?
And Andrew?

That you sometimes get very lonely.

- Yes.
- And Anne Protheroe's standards...

Of course, you weren't to know
the colonel had been m*rder*d

when you telephoned her at my cottage,
but even so,

it put her in a difficult position
when she went over there.

That wasn't me!

- When's the funeral?
- Tuesday afternoon.

Ah. I'm in London all morning.

I hope the trains are better than last Tuesday.

- I had to cadge a lift back.
- The day of the m*rder?

Chaos. Not a single train

to St Mary Mead the whole afternoon.

Every time we tell a lie...

..we are offending God.

"The heart is deceitful above all things,

and desperately wicked.

Who can know it?"

Well, God can.

He sees into our hearts and searches them,

to give every man according to his ways

and according to the fruit of his doings.

Let us, then, keep our hearts pure

so we may say with Paul,

"I have lived in all good conscience before God."

- Oh, bad luck.
- It wasn't luck.

Someone stabbed my tyre.

Such a violent thing to do.

With everything that's been going on, I'm...

I'm terrified, Mr Redding.

Well, I'll walk you to your digs if you'd like.

- Oh, yes, please. Would you?
- Bless you.

Thank you.

Yes?

I want to...

live in all good conscience.

May I introduce you

to my mother?

I know. I know I'm not
a good advertisement for motherhood.

I don't want an advertisement.

Why did the colonel divorce you, may I ask?

I had a...tiny, tiny fling.

I like parties and people,

but Lucius wanted to clip my wings.

He offered me an allowance in return...

In return for never seeing me again.

- Until now.
- It's taken me six years

since my second husband died
to get my courage up.

Dutch courage, mostly.

I'm not very proud of myself.

You're here now, Mother.

I thought you were dead.

Never mind the hearts and flowers.

Look, when Protheroe came to your room...

We have a witness.
Were you trying to blackmail him?

Lord, no! I'm very well set up.

No. I just told him I wanted to see
lovely daughter Lettice.

She's going to reform me.

- You're all I've got.
- She sees me in a cottage,

baking jam and knitting...things.

As long as we can
have an occasional cruise, dear.

Lettice...

may I have a private word?

- It's Anne's.
- It was under the desk

where your father was m*rder*d.

I knew it was her. Tell the police.

Did you put it there

when you were pretending to look
for your beret?

She wasn't wearing those earrings
on the day of the m*rder.

- Wasn't she?
- Oh, Lettice, it's me.

All right, but I don't see

what difference it makes, Miss Marple.

She k*lled him somehow

so she could get her hands on Lawrence.

- Lettice...
- What?

The red paint on your dress
was new, wasn't it?

You'd just been in the shed.

So? I heard you all coming and I had to hide.

I must have brushed against something.

It was magenta, anyway.

The colour of passion, Lawrence says.

You know, Hermione,
I'll have to tell the police.

Thank you, dear.

When the colonel kept
his appointment at the vicarage,

he had just learnt

that Mr Hawes left his last parish
under a cloud.

The bishop kept it from the vicar
to give him another chance

- What had he done?
- Fiddled the accounts.

Ronnie's tried to k*ll himself.

Dr Haydock's there
and he's found a statement

from Colonel Protheroe accusing him...

- Accusing him of stealing?
- Yes.

I owe you a box of chocs.

Nothing gets past you,
Miss Marple, does it?

Hardly ever.

Nothing gets past you,
Miss Marple, does it?

Hardly ever, young man.

How clever!

How wicked!

The gas was full on,

and that much sedative
would have put him to sleep quickly.

Another few minutes
and he would have cheated the hangman.

"Note of conversation today
regarding Ronald Hawes

curate of St Mary Mead.

Previous embezzlement of funds..."
It's all here.

Monsieur Dufosse said
the note he saw was longer.

The accounts.
He told me he'd left them in the study.

Lawrence Redding can tell us
his state of mind.

The landlady said he came in with him
and stayed talking.

- Running well now, isn't she?
- Ooh.

I've got it, Inspector.

Lettice was right.

Anne Protheroe did k*ll her husband.

Anne and Lawrence Redding.

They made themselves the obvious suspects

by ensuring their secret was out,

knowing that if their plan worked

They would later appear above suspicion

Oh! I forgot you were coming.

Which, of course, he had not,

and Anne Protheroe chose
the Toby Jug just for a change

Mr Redding wasn't trying
to run the colonel down

He knew it would help them
muddy the waters

when Anne mentioned it at the inquest.

- Bloody fool!
- Oh!

They were making sure
I'd be a c*ptive audience

for their little charade in a ringside seat

He must have had his g*n with him
then and a sil*ncer

Monsieur Dufosse, remember,
spoke of a long barrel.

Mr Redding in the study.

It's the right decision.

- Have you told her?
- I need to find the words.

Then, he made two telephone calls,

the first to get the vicar out of the way

by pretending to be Mr Abbot's neighbour

Mary, old Mr Abbot at Lower Farm

his neighbour's telephoned to say
he's very poorly again.

The second to my cottage.

St Mary Mead 235.

We're all set, darling.

It was for me. Sorry.

She knew I'd see she couldn't possibly
have a g*n with her

when she went into the vicarage at 20 past six

Which was when you shot your husband.

"Coffee and cake," you said,
when you telephoned.

Where's Lawrence.

Under arrest by now.

The loud sneeze that Mary heard at 6:20

was your silenced p*stol

Mr Redding, fired by Mrs Protheroe.

The shot at 6:30 had me puzzled,

until Miss Marple found what she did.

It didn't come from the woods
or from the house

It came from the shed.

So she goes off with the Dufosses

and you go to the Blue Boar

A large one. I've had a hell of a day.

Then you return to the vicarage

on the pretext of seeing Mr Clement again

knowing he wouldn't be back
from his wild-goose chase.

Wait in the study with the colonel.

- He's here?
- He is.

You remove the m*rder weapon

and leave a forged note
with deliberate mistakes.

Different handwriting in different inks

on vicarage notepaper
you'd taken previously.

A shock to find
a statement from the colonel

but it might come in useful

You reset the clock knowing it was fast

all to make us think Mrs Protheroe

was being falsely implicated

in her husband's m*rder

And the colonel's statement did

come in useful last night, didn't it?

As you now had evidence of a motive,

enough to frame
Mr Hawes for the m*rder.

Oh, bad luck.

"Calm down, Ronnie.
I'll mix your medicine..."

and turn on the gas as you drift away

and leave the colonel's note by the body.

But m*rder, Anne?

For a stranger who reminded you
of what might have been?

He wasn't a stranger.

But I was right when I said

that nothing was ever the same again

It was Lawrence who didn't come back
from the fighting...

except that he did

four years after he'd been reported dead,

and by then, I was Mrs Protheroe.

He found you?

He was too decent to try
when he heard I'd married.

I found him.

A magazine article

about the rising young artist back
from the dead.

What did we do wrong?

You ask me that?

What mistake did we make?

When you came out of the shed with him

you were the same woman.

You hadn't said goodbye
forever to the man you loved.

. You could tell that?
- You think I've never...

I lost someone in the w*r...

..who got a medal for dying.

His wife will have cherished it.

His wife?

Easier for you, then, Jane.

He was dead.

You didn't have to choose
between right and wrong.

When you volunteered, darling

you made a choice to do your duty.

- Yes.
- I've had to make a choice too.

I've chosen to do my duty.

Come back safe,
but for your wife, not for me.

Jane...

Please, if I can't come back for you,
then there's...

Jane!

Jane!

Lawrence! Lawrence!

It's the apricot chutney with fish stew
that gave me inkling

When did you find out?

My cousin called this morning to confirm it.

Of course!

He's that doctor in Melchester, isn't he?

Rather a handsome young man.

I didn't want to see Dr Haydock.

Well, you know village gossip.

And I wanted to be sure first.

She told me she'd gone to London.

I never suspected a thing.

Our Father who art in heaven,

hallowed be thy name.

Thy kingdom come.

Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.

Give us this day our daily bread.
[i[Forgive us our trespasses.

[i]As we forgive
[i]those who trespass against us.

[i]And lead us not into temptation.

[i]But deliver us from evil.