MISS MARPLE : DER STILLE MORD #krimihörspiel #retro #70er #kopfkino

KOPFHOCKING VLOG by HÖRMALZU THANK YOU FOR YOUR SUPPORT Hello, dear loyal fans of HÖRMALZU, the channel for real listening games and retro friends. Accompany me now to a tranquil little village in the south of England. It's called St. Mary Mead. There's a church and a shop there. That's all. But what this village has is a woman who can take care of it. A woman with little grey cells, called Jane Marple. And now, have fun and thank you for your like. We're looking for a house called The First. The First? Oh, I know. You're the new tenant of Miss Barton. That's right. How charming. Jeremy Burton, my sister Jane. Nice to meet you. Maud Korsrup. My husband is Vicar here. He's expecting you on Sunday in the church. Everyone else too. Everyone's looking forward to meeting you. Oh God, and if we disappoint you? No, certainly not. But now to your question, The First. Straight through the village, about half a mile, then left and you're there. I'm glad you're both here. Welcome to my house. Thank you. Beatrice? Yes? Yes, please. The guests have arrived. Help unload the luggage. I hope you'll feel at home here. Like I always do. I've spent my whole life here. You get used to nice things. Oh yes, but I have the feeling we're wasting you here. You mustn't have that. Bad times, the taxes, the high costs nowadays. You help me. I'm simply forced to rent. Besides, it's not for ever. Miss Partridge is here and will take care of you. She's a good housekeeper, a real treasure. Then we have Beatrice, the girl for everything. She's not very clever, but willing. The gardener Cleet comes twice a week. He has a somewhat strange wife, but they have little to do with each other. Excuse my curiosity, Mr. Burton, is this a war injury? No, no, that wasn't in the war. I tested a new plane. Both engines failed, and the controls fell out. I tried to get down, but I only managed partially. At least I was lucky. Oh, yes, I see. He's hiding from you, of course, that the machine was completely shattered. Good heavens. Such a mishap. You have to thank our nice doctor. My doctor has already contacted him. He's moved in, but he's still very skilled. And Partridge is an excellent cook. You can count on her. Oh, no, no, not in this house. Excuse me. Oh, no, you don't have to. It's just because no one has ever smoked here. I make sure that no ash falls down. I behave so stupidly because there was never a man in the house. The last one was the admirer of my eldest sister. He didn't stay long. Mother had a turn. Because of the smoking? Because of his style. No gentleman speaks like that, she said. I thought he was very nice. Funny. Daphne protested. But mother said, with men you know... What, Miss Burton? Another cup of tea. Thank you, gladly. Mr. Burton. You certainly wish him a little stronger. Men want him strong, don't they? I still know that from my father. But mother had a turn there, too. She didn't want it. Poor father. And poor mother. She was paralyzed, you know. And that took advantage of her strength. It's nice that you were able to set it up. Mr. Fickha, what an impressive turn, isn't it? Has Maud chosen the text? She didn't. Paulus, isn't it? Let brotherly love last. Did you mean our new one? Should you really support that? I can only guess what she's up to. Paulus drives away and never pays attention to strangers. Because only God knows if there's an angel around him. Oh, how nice. But someone has hurt the male angel. Whereas the rest is a sensation. I think you're exaggerating. Ah. Kai, I'm sure you haven't greeted Mr. Burton and his sister yet. No. Nice to meet you. Thank you, Rebecca. And this is your neighbor, Mr. Pike. Believe him, Kallenburg. He's just busy spying on others. Dear lady, how unfair. Yes, even untrue. Avoid the malicious mood and take a sherry with me to Priory Lodge. With pleasure. Look, Paul. How she looks at the old Mr. Byron. She even paints her eyes for the church. So? Promised? Promised. Oh, God. The Simmons are coming. I have to go. Commander, take the parade. Miss Burton, you are an event. The sleepy limping loves you. See you soon. Goodbye. Boys, run ahead with Erzy. We'll be there soon. Yes. Come on, let's go. Erzy, I'm terribly hungry. Don't be so frantic. Yes, but Kai, the sermon was wonderful. Just a little bit far-fetched. Ah, Mr. Simmington. How nice to see you again. Mrs. Simmington? Yes, good day. Ah, Jerry. Mr. Simmington is Miss Burton's lawyer. Nice to meet you. Jerry still has to sign the contract, doesn't he? There's no hurry. If you're ever nearby, take a look. Well done. Edward, we have to go home. The boys will starve otherwise. You're right. Well, it's nice that you're both here. See you soon. Kai, courage. Edward, you know what? I have the feeling that Limston will do you good. That was the purpose of the matter, wasn't it? Of course. Well, then. When I think of all the pretty nurses in the hospital, how they took care of you, how they cooled your feverish forehead. And now, what do you get out of it? Wasn't it their duty to take care of me? Whatever. You stayed totally indifferent. But ten days in Limston and ... What are you playing at, little sister? On Sunday in front of the church. Simmington's little girl. Do you think I didn't notice? She's doing much better all of a sudden, little brother. You're talking nonsense. Don't you allow me to look around a little? After all, she's a little more graceful than our Patrick. Oh, thank you very much. Do you have any wishes for lunch? No, I don't. Decide for yourself, yes, Patrick? Good, as you wish, Miss. Here, this will cheer you up. Letters from abandoned lovers. Look at my bills, Jerry. Oh, unfortunately, bad luck. What do you do when it rings, Beatrice? Ah, doctor, come in. How are you, Beatrice? Are you feeling well? I have to go, doctor. I'll let you know. Dr. Griffiths, sir, wants to see you. Stay seated. I think it's time we got to know each other. Owen Griffiths, Dr. Quacksalver. Nice to see you. My damn duty. Your doctor wants a weekly report on your progress. As far as that is concerned, ask Joanna. How are you, dear Joanna? She says I'm doing great. Ah, you're taking good care of him? He keeps me going, doctor. Weren't you at the church on Sunday? No, you know, we're of a different faith. My sister and I, we're from Wales. We emigrated. I'd like to take a closer look at the patient, if you don't mind. I'll be right away, doctor. Examine him thoroughly. I'll be there. And come back soon. Once a week. And remember, we're strangers here, too. Take a deep breath. How long have you been here, doctor? Take a deep breath. Seven years. And still strangers? I wasn't born here. But the people here are nice. Most of them are friendly. And they wouldn't write an ugly anonymous letter to other people, would they? Did you get one? Mm-hm. Is there something going on here? Excuse me, may I ask what's in there? Or should I not? Why not? The young lady you just saw is a whore. And, of course, never my sister. I only give her the clean version. I'm sorry. Did she hit you hard? Joe was in the army for two years. She's tough on the inside. But something like that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. I can imagine. Still back pain? Only when I laugh. The main thing is, you have something to laugh about. Now, to the legs. Oh, sit down. Do you have other letters, Doctor? Yes. To whom? To me, for example. To you? Why not? The writer is pathological and unconscious. Please press on. He's shooting around aimlessly. And that's disturbing. Why? Because he can hit someone who can't stand it. Press on. Someone who's vulnerable. And that could be dangerous. Please stand up. Your right leg is still a little weak. Thank you. Train it. Throw one of these crutches away. Stand up and walk, as the Bible says. This is the end of the first lesson. See you next week. Doctor. These letters... Do they all look similar? I don't know. I only know mine. He suggested that I misuse my position as a doctor towards certain female patients. The sexual details were extremely refined. That's common in such cases. What did the handwriting look like? There was no handwriting. The envelope was a typewriter, and the letter consisted of printed words, like from an old book, and they were stuck on paper. Just like mine. It wasn't a complete alphabet. Mort already told you everything. Oh, yes, she did. It must have been terrible for you. It was. Here, please. Oh, thank you very much. Now allow me to entrust you to Mort. I have to prepare the daily sleeping pills. Oh, just do it, Guy. I'll take Paul's warning against the carnivorous as a topic to provide an appropriate equipment. It fits quite well under these circumstances. And formulate appropriate deterrents. And codes, honey. Well, dear Mort, how did it all start? It's hard to say. The people here love scandals, but only as long as they are not themselves involved. No one can admit that he received something like that. Such a dirty letter. Out of fear, the neighbors could say, no smoke without fire, that's why. That's it. After all, nothing remains secret in Limson for long. And the poor Guy, who is he accused of? Imagine, the search with one of the women who get the altar flowers. He was speechless. He shuddered, completely destroyed, the poorest. How terrible. Yes, and you know Guy as well as I do. Never the trace of a marriage break. He never cheated on me. I wanted it right away. Really? Something worldly would make his sermons more interesting. You married a clergyman, a classical scholar. How deceitful his profession is, with a robust appetite for sin. Oh, I think that's normal. Well, Mort, and what do you want from me? I know, it does not fall into your field of interest, Jane. No shots, no corpses, no murder instruments. Not even a shadow of Scotland Yard. What should one do with the girl, Edward? She is just young. She is twenty. And if I may say so, there is a problem. Oh, my darling, I'm sorry, I didn't mean it that way. But for a stepfather... Is it hard for you to say what you really feel? Yes, sometimes. But not for me. I have to think of our boys. She's out and about, comes home too late, or instead of helping doctors, she dresses like a tramp. What kind of an example does she give to the children? Oh, good morning. You can certainly help me. Which Mr. Simmington would you like to speak to? There is only one. But isn't there Simmington, Galbraith and Simmington? The first Mr. Simmington was the father of the current Mr. Simmington. He is dead. Oh, I'm very sorry about that. Maybe I could speak to the current Mr. Simmington. He is busy. Can I help you? Oh, no, thank you very much. I have to go to church. Can I wait? Of course, take a seat. Thank you very much. Really very friendly. Would you like to tell him, Miss Marple? Jane Marple. Yes, I will. Thank you very much. Excuse me, sir. A Miss Jane Marple. One moment, Miss Marple. Mrs. Simmington is with him right now. Oh, then we must not disturb. I am very quiet. I imagine the work in a lawyer's office must be very interesting. Oh, yes, very. Many different people, different problems and find a solution for everything. Mr. Simmington is the man who can do it all. Oh, really? Yes, he is admirable. Always patient, friendly. People trust him. Oh, yes. Miss Marple. Yes. May I? Oh, thank you very much. Excuse me for keeping you waiting. Please take a seat. Oh, no, I have to apologize. Oh, that's all right. My wife says you already know each other. Quite right, of course. Last year in the courthouse. Yes, how are you? Good. And how is your interesting daughter, Megan? Oh, my poor Megan. She is in a difficult age. She must be in her early twenties, I guess. But she is still very young. Many mothers regret growing up so fast. I don't, Miss Marple. I just wish she would do something. Learn something sensible. A typewriter, a tailor. Maybe a trade course. Anything. If only she would finally be out of... Out of the house. No, not that. We definitely don't want that. Angela, especially not. Isn't that right, darling? That's right. I know you women like black, but Miss Marple certainly had a reason why she wanted to talk to me. Yes, of course. Let me think about what it was. Maud Cawthrop. Would you like to remember that the church restoration plan... has to be reaffirmed by next Wednesday. You will. You will, I'm sure. Oh, that's wonderful. That's all for now. Oh, there was another thing, and... Then I'll get back to work. No, no. Please, not for me. No. Privacy also has precedence in a lawyer's office, above all else. No. There is only one thing that moves me. Have you heard anything by chance about these anonymous letters that are going around here? Yes, what is it? Excuse the interruption, sir. May I quickly jump over to the post office? We need new paperwork. Jump, Miss Ginch. But don't stay too long, and close the door for the time being. Yes, sir. Thank you, sir. Excuse me. Drive on. Mr. Simming, as a lawyer, what would you recommend to someone who receives such a letter? Bring him to the police. Immediately. And if he doesn't? But he does. He? At least I did. Oh, dear God. You did, too? Unfortunately. Please forgive my curiosity, Mr. Simming. What was the police's reaction? Calm. Our old Zornstein Fohler said, don't get upset. Probably a woman without a husband is a little too hot. I didn't ask what he meant by that. So he thinks the writer is a woman? Well, in nine out of ten cases, that's probably the case. Aha, yes, I understand. Yes, that would explain why all the letters I know of are addressed to men. Yes, but now I don't want to keep you any longer. Thank you very much for your time. Have a good life. Goodbye, Ms. Marple. Oh, I'd like to say one more thing. Congratulations on your secretary's election. Nowadays, it's very rare to hear that an employee speaks so well about his employer. To inspire Edward Shentz's admiration, Ms. Marple. I have the same impression. Good day. Good day, Ms. Marple. Did you make it? Yes. Back and forth? Apart from a break in Mr. Simmington's office. Did you meet anyone? Almost. And there was a collision. With whom? With Simmington's daughter. Is that the Megan we heard about? Strange girl. I hope you'll excuse me, Mr. Burton, but I have to tell you something. Yes, please. Beatrice, sir. Beatrice? Yes, Mr. Burton, you have to go. Where to? Out of the house. And why? These letters, sir. They're evil. Ordinary, so mean words. Words that don't even appear in the Bible. I know it's not true. You with your bad leg. Me? What does that have to do with me? Did Beatrice have a... No, sir, George. George down in the garage said to her, One of us has to go. There's no smoke without fire. You better go, girl, I said. Where's the poor thing going? Oh, she's fine. Has mighty luck. Simmington's daughter got married last month. You'll take over Beatrice. And you? Me? That's how it works. Damn nonsense. She was such a woken thing. Yes, she was. She should go away. There aren't many young men here. I'm going. Beatrice! Yes, Mr. Burton? These letters. Someone has to know something. Oh, yes. And who? I can't say. But think of my words. There's an accident sooner or later, I'm sure of it. Violence breaks out. Oh, come on, Pat. Out of feeling, sir. Do you really mean that? Many are dangerous, sir. The young George in the garage, for example. And who's the instigator? The main suspect? Please, I'm not for talk. Not at all, sir. But there are some who say it's Mrs. Cleet. Cleet? The gardener's wife? Oh, she's more than that, Mr. Burton. Gymnastics, walks, no greasy food, no cake. Why don't you take it as a prison meal? Oh, I order better health and low blood pressure. And boredom. Miss Griffith, your brother, is cruel. To your well-being, Mr. Pye. Oh, and you're just in this difficult Bernhard genre. What did Oscar say? He has no enemies and all his friends hate him. Good day, Wittelspan. Oh, how funny, Mr. Pye. A stupid talker. So, what's the matter? Here, the patient list. Thank you. What's this? Burton? Tuesday? Yes, Tuesday. He wants to come himself. Spares you the way. Good, he has to feel better. Is he nice? A pleasant person. People talk a lot about his sister. So? She should be treated like a man. Is that true? I wouldn't say so. However, she is attractive. No, even more. Very attractive. Men. Oh, enough with the talking. I have to go. I know to whom. Oh, have you finished the prescription? Here it is. Mrs. Simington, a sedative. One for lunchtime, one for dinner. You're welcome. The woman is not missing at all. At least a dose of reason. She is nervous, already neurotic. Yes, and a torment for everyone. For you, for her family. She needs help, Erre. And who else? Her poor husband is regrettable. The only one who really hurts me. I know. When we came here, Simington was very helpful, very friendly to us, wasn't he? And I remember that you liked him a lot back then. What do you mean by that? Without... What do you think I am? He is married. That's enough, Erre. Come on. Call the cricketers. We're going out tonight. I'll be back soon. Oh, a delicious sherry, Mr. Pye. And if I may say so, a well-read setting. I like to hear that, dear, that someone knows how to appreciate beauty. Even our young friends do that. Unfortunately, this is rare. You are surrounded by a lot of beauty here. Only the people are ugly. Much worse, stupid. Unbearably unspeakable stupid. I don't know. I think the villagers are quite funny. The grandmother's youth, dear. But I don't mean the farmers. You have to practice foresight. They live in the middle of pigsty, the permanent smell of dung in their noses. No, I mean the ones with better conditions. The ones with money without taste. Arrogance without sensibility. Brain without imagination. Ugly, ugly people. But you, you are my spiritual relative. And you are both talkative and a quick host. Thank you, Miss Marple. What a charming compliment. Just a little too strict towards your fellow men. What I don't understand is why you have settled down here. What did you expect? I was looking for protection. May I ask what for? Before the war. The terrible rocket shells. The smell of dirt. Everywhere the people rushed and one feared for themselves. I am not a brave man like you. It would be stupid to claim that. Bombs frighten me. I reject any violence. So you leave London, Mr. Pye? Of course I did. Because of the Yankees and their G.I. brides it was almost impossible to run an antiquities business in the King's Road. And when my, my partner decided to vent his anger it was too late. London couldn't stand it. I couldn't. I sold and fled. And here I am now. My God. Actually a sad story. Oh, beauty and compassion in one creature. May I give you another one? You haven't told me one yet, Mr. Pye. Did you get protection? Yes, my dear. Here. In this house. Nowhere else. However, I would like neighbors with level. Oh. Forgive the question, but don't you feel very limited? Not if you are looking for the beautiful. This house is all my passion. Ah, how interesting. Houses can reveal something. For example, take Emily Barton. Miss Barton? The house in which you live. I mean, what is that? A monument of perversion of your mother. A cold fortress against the male ego. I haven't noticed yet. Vengeful. She doesn't seem so vengeful to me. Well disguised. Hidden inside. Didn't you notice these BBs? BBs? Bad letters. Ah. What, you suspect Miss Barton? Well, the face can of course be deceitful. That's what I mean. And what about this girl in the treatment room? She speaks then. The sister of the doctor? With these tourists you have to reckon with everything abominable. I would like to think it was someone else. Possible. It was just a guess. Who else fell into you as a letter writer? So, so, silent. With sparkling eyes. What? You're scaring me. Miss Barton? Oh, oh, no, thank you very much. How am I supposed to see the eyes of the vicar? But tell me, Mr. Pye, since we're just talking about the letters, do you admit, did you get one yourself? Me? What would I have to hide that would interest the writer? George, you wanted to pick me up at the bus stop. I thought about it differently. Why? Tell me why. You'll know. Don't be silly. You're spoiling my whole day off. Yours too. It wasn't my fault that you got that stupid letter, was it? What do you mean? I'm telling you, he's a crook. He's running amok. What can he do? He can look at you. But I'm not there. Do you know what you are? Crazy. Yes, and what are you? Well, thank you very much, George Ellis. Hello? Megan, how are you? Where do you want to go? No particular destination. I'm just going for a walk. Then come in. Come in. Really? Joanna is busy somewhere. My stumps are fine again. Good, that's good. So, what is it? Do you want to or not? Maybe your sister is evil. She's not. She wants to meet you. Is that true? A little refreshment? Always. I have to thank my brother. The bike was his fault. Yes, I know. Here. What else? What is that? Dry Martini. And that is? A cocktail. I've never drunk anything like that. It lifts the mood. And makes you dizzy. I'm sure you find me terribly stupid. Indescribably. Hardly bearable. What do you think of me? Darling, you are like a fresh breeze. We will certainly become friends. Everyone else thinks I'm stupid. What nonsense are you talking about? I know exactly what's going on in their heads. In your head? I'm not desired, it's true. Mother doesn't love me a little. Neither pessimistic changes, child. What's that supposed to mean? I'm not a child. She hates me. I remember her as a father. First she loved herself, then the boys and their father. Megan wouldn't be. Why don't you leave? What should I do? I'm no use to you, no education, no money. But it's true, no one would miss me. I would. I would miss your torn stripes very much. That's it. I'm just a slut. That's not true. Everyone thinks I'm a slut. That's why I hate Limston. The house I live in, my mother. I hate everyone and everything. Well, that's pretty comprehensive. It's better, I'm leaving now. Thank you, Johanna. Thank you for everything. My goodness, don't overdo it. So degrading. Degrading? I'm sorry. I didn't mean to. Thank you for the compliment. What did I tell you? Do you think she's normal? God, is that a problem, child? No child. A woman. Hey, not so wild, not so wild. You're tearing me apart. What's going on with you pirates? We were down at the river. And look what we caught. Yes, look, daddy. Here, what's in here. Oh, cod. Not a whale. But there are no whales in the river. You're stupid. Whales swim in the sea. In the big sea. And not here in the river, daddy. Isn't that right, Robert? Have you seen my wife? Oh, she's probably still breathing, Mr. Simington. Still now? She hasn't shown herself since we got home. I caught her. About alone? Try to get a cup of tea out of the pot. He'll wake her up. You get three. I get two. Satisfied? No, I'm not going with you. What do you want? Why are you so loud? You're standing a meter away from each other. You don't have to scream. Quiet now. I'll be right back. Hello, driver's office? Yes, Maud Kalsrop speaking here. Good evening, Miss Holland. Yes, of course. My husband will come over immediately. An accident. Angela Simington. Oh, God. She's not dead, is she? One moment, Chief Inspector. I'd like to report this. I'm very connected to you. Please drive on. The police have found the following. Mr. Simington returned to his office shortly after lunch. Miss Holland took a walk to the river with her two sons. Mrs. Simington's daughter, Megan, was on the road with the council, and the two house employees were also gone. It was their day off. Mrs. Simington was alone in the house when the letter was sent. By mail? No personal mail. This potassium cyanide is known. Where does it come from? Probably from the greenhouse. There was a wasp plague there. The gardener used it to destroy the nests. Thank you, Chief Inspector. And, doctor, how would you describe the general health condition of the deceased? She had a weak constitution that I treated. With these sedatives that you took every day? Would you describe it as neurotic? Your nervous disorders allow this conclusion. And to receive a letter of this kind, what effect could it have had on you? I mean, it must have caused a shock to her. It could even be a breakdown. Very likely. The reading of this letter undoubtedly led the poor woman into a state of extreme excitement. She fell out into the garden, found the poison and took some of it with her. She poured it into the glass that contained her sedatives and drank it. Shortly before, she must have said the last tragic words, I can no longer write on paper. The writer of this terrible letter is morally guilty of the murder and the police will not rest until this criminal has been found guilty. The investigation has shown that Angela Simington took her own life in a state of mental disorder. I'm so sorry. Hey, Megan, wait! Mr. Simington. Edward, I'm so sorry. How much misfortune did the letter bring you? I just hope that the one who is to blame for you will not find sleep. I will be there when you need me. I know. Thank you. Mr. Simington, I'd rather go to the boys now. Yes, yes, of course, I have to stay here. The officer, then. Terrible thing. Why did you have to leave the poison lying around like that? That was a mistake. Admit it. It's not my fault. The wasps are to blame. Miss Partridge? Me? Me? What is it? Tomorrow afternoon. Can I visit you there? Just for a moment. What else do you want from me, girl? Nothing, Miss Partridge. I just noticed something. What you don't say. Something is bothering me. Do you remember my argument with George? On that day everything happened, the bad one. Oh God, if only I had never gone to the Simingtons. I feel so infinitely alone, Guy. I will not be done with it. Our youngest, Jamie, would not be my child. And the writer would tell the whole world how the right father is such a nonsense, nonsense, Guy. Of course, of course. If only I had been with her. If only someone... Why was she alone at that moment? Guy, talk to her. That's his job. We can't do anything else now. You were selfish, Maxie. Overconfident, but none of the women who... Kill, you mean? But the sentence, I can no longer... Listen to this. Still exciting entertainment. Is this the only typewriter you have? Unfortunately, the only one. Errol, is that right? Yes, Mr. Simington gave it to us. Aha, and when was that? Oh, Miss Ginch, you know it. Let me think. It was about November of last year. I'll get to the point right away. Would you give me some addresses on these envelopes? But I can only do it with two fingers. Doesn't matter. Here you are. What? I don't quite understand all this. Oh, dear. The terrible letters were in machine-written envelopes. They could all have been written on the same machine. And I think that's what Mr. Inspector is trying to find out. Just a formality. Of course. Right away. Excuse me, Mr. Inspector. May I exchange a few words with you? But certainly. This decision yesterday... Yes, Miss Marple. Didn't you also find this interpretation a bit simple? Simple? Suicide. As a crime. No, Miss Marple. I didn't find it. Here you are. Thank you. Thank you very much. Excuse the interruption. Hello, Mr. Burton. Yes, Megan. Yes, good. Just a moment. Partridge? She's probably already asleep. Blink of an eye, sir. No, she's coming down. Oh, Partridge, Beatrice was with you. When did she leave? She didn't come at all, Mr. Burton. But Miss Megan said... She wanted to come. I waited for her because she had something on her mind. She wanted to talk to me. Come here. She probably went to see her boyfriend. I see. Thank you, Partridge. That's it. Do you hear, Megan? She wasn't here at all. Oh. Maybe she's out with her boyfriend. Yes. Your voice sounds so worried. Oh, it's you, Miss Megan. Oh, Rose. I thought Beatrice was here. That's strange. She's not wearing her wedding dress. No. But when she's free, she always wears it. Yes, who's there? Telephone, Mr. Burton. Miss Megan. I'm coming. It's urgent, she says. All right, I'm coming. Crawford. A man at every door. No one in, no one out. Until further notice. Is that clear? Yes, sir. Didn't I tell you right away? I was... It goes on. If you don't let me in, I'll do my job. No one is allowed in. One moment, sir. No one is allowed in here now, sir. Miss Megan is waiting for me. That may be, sir, but I have my orders. Come with me. You're not allowed in here. I'll bring you in. Oh, yes, sir. Hey, stop. You're not allowed in, and you're not allowed out. Didn't I tell you? Don't you know what kind of constitution you're in? Either I bring you in, or you bear the consequences. Consequences? But wasn't she in the whole world? Yes, sir. She was. She was? Yes, sir. She was? Yes, sir. Consequences? But wasn't she out all afternoon? No, we all thought so. But I know from George. She came back. She came back? Oh, my little one. Come, sit down. There. A cup of tea, Rose. With a lot of sugar. And a brandy. We'll see. And a pillow, or a warm bottle. She should go to bed. Yes. So, I'm relieved. The boys have been accommodated by their cousin. Thank God. What a day. What is it? Megan, what in the world is going on with you? Miss Holland, do you have a moment? In a moment, my little one. You'll feel better again. You'll get a nice cup of tea, and then off to bed. She's in shock. We all are, more or less. But you didn't find the dead, did you? How are you, Mr. Simmington? Not well. He's shaken. Can you do something for me? I'll try. Very nice. Go to him. Stay with him and try to distract him. Good, I will. Thank you very much. What do you want here? Megan called me. Johnson had strict instructions. How did you get past him? Thanks to a special circumstance. The girl was in shock and needed my help. Very good, very good. Oh, Mr. Burton. What, you? Don't worry. Rose is trying to cheer her up again. She'll take care of you. Miss Marble, go to Constable Johnson at all costs. Oh, was that forbidden? I had a conversation with Rose, the cook. Good, and? I learned something that seems very important to me. Well? Would you kindly tell me what it is? It's about Beatrice, you know. She came back. She didn't leave the house at all? No, no, I'm talking about the day poor Mrs. Simmington died. So Beatrice had a fight with her boyfriend, George. He works in the garage. That's why she came back. She was here in the afternoon. Well, that changes things, doesn't it? Rose didn't tell me that. No, didn't she? Well, maybe you didn't ask her? Anything else, Miss Marble? No, I don't think so. At least not at the moment. Then be so kind and leave the property. Oh, yes, of course. Come, Mr. Burton. Oh, I'm sorry, Chief Inspector. I hope you don't find me... How can I say? A little annoying. Forget the thought, Miss Marble. Gladly. That calms me down. Thank you very much. Thank you. One moment, gentlemen. I have my orders. No one in, no one out. They were all written here in the club. On this machine. They can detect something like that. That's science. Mr. Simmington gave us the machine, Mrs. Cleet. Nobody disputes that. But it's been a long time, hasn't it? And you were setting up the chairs, weren't you? It's been a long time, too. Do you think that's true? It should be. Yes. The old witch has an insatiable nose for any dirt. Do you understand my concerns now, Mr. Chief Inspector? I think so. But this sentence was written by Mrs. Simmington. There is no doubt about that. Such a piece of paper. Yes, maybe. Something unusual, I think. Do you think so? But suicide is unusual once in a while. Praise God. Yes, indeed. But most of these last messages are celebratory. A justification, a justification. And here's the only sentence. I can't write anymore on a torn piece of paper. I'm starting to feel torn, too, Mrs. Marple. Oh, Mr. Burton, you're back already? Is my sister at home? She wanted to go to Lumsden. Do you have a wish, sir? At most a whiskey with soda, Patrick. Of course, Mrs. Marple. I'll think about it. Excuse me, sir. She says it's urgent, sir. Who says that, Johnson? Oh, uh... The young lady here, sir. Mr. Chief Inspector. Another one of those terrible letters. It arrived this afternoon. You found this among Mrs. Burton's books? Correct. How foresighted of you, Mr. Burton. It was luck. I was looking for an old book, and the pressure... Do you remember the first letter you received? Mrs. Burton, look at that. Very informative. Strange. And this envelope is addressed to Mrs. Burton. Burton. It was improved. First it was an A. Here, please. Yes. The letter must have been for Mrs. Burton. The U is tipped over. Strange. Really strange. If you need me, call me. Sure, I will. And come back without the stick. I'll manage. Good luck. To London, please. When I'm old... Still so beautiful. Don't laugh at me. With you. Seriously, should I spend my life here? At charity events, coffee shops, handicrafts... You're too beautiful for that. And you're impossible. Who, me? Yes. Good evening. Who was that? No idea. Come on. You're the chief inspector. On the way home, sir? Yes. It's so dark everywhere and I wanted to... I understand. It's late, sir. You mean I should disappear? Good night, sir. Good night. Mrs. Holland received him this morning. Disgusting stuff. But not as detailed as the last one. I mean the sex details. I thought you should see him as soon as possible. The sooner, the better. How did Mrs. Holland do? Cool. Impressive. A very thoughtful girl. Didn't she get one before? No, no. I don't know that much. Tell me, Nash. Do you have a certain suspicion? Maybe this letter will help us. Let's hope so. Yes. Thank you for your help. Work for the experts. Oh, I have to go, Miss Ginch. Keep an eye on her. Yes, Mr. Semenkin. Where's Crawford? Inside, sir. Crawford? Yes, sir. Make copies of it. This time it's not cut out words. A typewriter. The whole text. And if it matches what we already have, we'll admit it. Yes, ma'am. Hey, Edward. Hello. Are you busy? I'm knitting, if you want to know. Owen is on his round. Oh, how stupid. I should have known. Can I do something for you? Well, possibly. Come in, please. It's about the sleeping pill that Owen prescribed to me. I can't find it. I hid it somewhere because of the children. Anyway, I couldn't keep an eye on it. That's better. I have the prescription. Owen won't be angry because of the self-imposedness. Please, sit down. Thank you. But don't give it away again, Edward. Oh, no. That was just a teacher. Do you know what you need now? Someone to take care of you. Someone who takes care of you. Do you study all this? What? Textbooks. History of British medicine. It was a long time ago. I wanted to be a doctor, you know. But our money wasn't enough. And Owen was the boy. Girls always have to stand back. Here you are. And don't forget, just take one. With two, you sleep 24 hours. And what would be best without a lawyer? Errol. Yes, Edward? I love you. You saved my life. Miss Griffiths? Can I ask you a few questions? Of course. Thank you. Nash? Again? What are you doing here? And you, sir? Just... the need to sleep at night. I would do it under four eyes. He can hear it quietly. Mr. Simington is an old friend. As you wish. Does that tell you anything? No. No, nothing at all. And if I tell you that you were watched while you wrote this letter, the night before yesterday? That's a deception. You don't really think that. I don't think so. I know it. Chief Inspector, may I interrupt you? Whatever Miss Griffiths may have done, or not, she has a claim to legal support. As a lawyer and as a friend... No, Edward, don't do it. Go away. Please, go away. But, dear Aerith... No. I don't want to hear from you. I don't want to see you anymore. What else do you want from me? Go away. Oh, uh... Chief Inspector said I should tell you we're taking this with us. What? Where did you find it? Between the books and the regatta. And the pistol, Constable? Don't you know why you need something like that? I can't tell you exactly, but... Chief Inspector says it could be the murder weapon. Can I talk to you? Oh, yes, of course. Leave the room, Elsie. One moment. Now, Elsie. Very well. What does that mean? I need some money. You have money in your pocket? Isn't that enough? Not at all. You'll soon have the money from your grandmother. I want it now, from you. Interesting. You mean you'll get something with cheekiness? As you wish. I saw what you mixed under Mother's sedatives that Wednesday. I don't know what you mean by that. So let's forget about it. But you're at an age where you need all kinds of things. Clothes, and so on. So? Five hundred. Five thousand. Still not finished, Rose? Just the breakfast pill for tomorrow, sir. Then I'll bring Miss Megan's milk and off to bed. Do you have a wish? No, no, I'm just looking for a match. There's a box over there next to the stove. Good night. Good night, Rose. Do you realize what kind of situation you've put me in? If this goes wrong, I don't want to get into your skin. Not even mine. This is the end of my career. Oh, try to forgive me, Chief Inspector. My only wish was always to help you. Help? Yes. To help you. Heart and pulse are normal now. We'll have you back soon. Thank God he didn't have an overdose. Why not? Too risky. Too suspicious. That could have been dangerous for him. It was his powder, wasn't it? But a gas stove and a girl who lost her mother, that fits. Good. So far, so good. Chief Inspector, may I congratulate you on your courage? Wasn't it your idea, Miss Marple? Thank you. Oh, by the way, Doctor, your sister will be released. Mr. Simington had hidden those cut pages in her waiting room. And the last letter? Well, that was very stupid. Very even. Many people tend to do stupid things when they are in love, don't they? Some, unfortunately, also bad things. Like Mr. Simington. So, the world goes on, as they say. Any questions? Why did she do that? Ask Miss Marple. She usually has the right answers. So, good day. One moment, please, Chief Inspector. Well? Well, I mean, it was jealousy. The fear that Miss Harland would intend to become the second Mrs. Simington. And this letter could prevent that. Oh, Miss Harland. You want to leave? I couldn't stay here any longer. It's too scary for me. Besides, everyone will say it was my fault. And I had no idea. I swear. When men of a certain age fall in love again, they usually have a hard time getting over it. Good luck. Thank you. She's doing much better. Doctor, as you predicted, the patient will be back soon. I'm glad. Me too. Dinner tonight, and please, only with me. If the doctor orders it. He does. That was extremely risky for Megan, Jack. I know, dear, but it had to be. And the Chief Inspector was wonderful, wasn't he? How are you? So far so good. Owen is examining her. What I don't understand yet, when did it all start? Oh, a long time ago. Soon after Miss Harland arrived. He had already written all these letters before he gave the machines to the women's club. He wanted to spread smoke. He wanted everyone to suspect a woman. And so it happened. Everyone was looking at the smoke. No one saw a fire. But his intention was murder. So absolutely cold-blooded? That's it. That's the way he is. And my envelope, where an A in an U was improved? Yes, that was originally intended for Miss Barton. But he later typed the U on another machine. That was a big mistake with so much cleverness. Jane and that little Beatrice. Why was she involved in this? Because in order to get rid of his wife, he chose an afternoon where he thought she was alone in the house, a Wednesday. Right after lunch, he took the poison to Mrs. Simmington's pharmacy and returned to the office. In the evening he came back, had Miss Harland give him a cup and with that he went into the room of the dead. He crumpled one of his obscene letters, threw it in front of his bed, put the note on it and then rang the alarm. Oh, a perfect actor. But the sentence, I can't anymore. But you don't write a suicide notice on a piece of paper from a phone book. Never. I can't anymore. What? I can't anymore on Fridays or Saturdays. He must have found it once and thought it might be useful. I know I'm a little slow in thinking, Jane. I still don't understand why Beatrice... Oh, Beatrice. She had an argument. What the murderer didn't know was that Beatrice left her friends and returned to the house. Where she saw what had happened. She didn't see anything at all. No friend who wanted to make amends. Nothing. Nothing fell into the mailbox. Nobody brought her the anonymous letter that was in the room. Nothing. Later, of course, the poor thing slowly clung together. He got scared and wanted to go to Partridge. And he noticed that. How did he do that? It was like Wednesday, the following. He pretended to go to the office, but he didn't. The housekeeper came back quietly and hid. All the other servants left, except Beatrice, who was always the last. Maybe he rang a bell. She came to see what was going on, was knocked down and hidden in the room. No one noticed his late return to the office. And so Partridge never found out what the poor girl was up to. Jane, you're so smart. Isn't that right, Guy? That's right. But if her plan had gone wrong, what would have happened to Megan? Mr. Burton, you know best. We're not in this world to avoid danger. Especially not when it comes to the life of a person. Miss Marple, and listen up, thank you for listening. If you want to thank us, just ring the bell or give us a thumbs up. It's free and makes us happy.