01x10 - A Caribbean Mystery

[bunniefuu]

Do hurry, Victoria,
it's our big dinner tonight

and I want everything to be
just perfect.

You worry too much, Mrs Kendall.

It's not hanging level, Evans.

Mr Kendall, sir.
Oh, would you like any...?

No, I don't suppose I'd call
myself a people person.

I'm more interested in birds,
actually.

Edward's not joking.

Mr and Mrs Dyson.
Never mind the chow, champ.

Just bring us another round
of Planter's Punch.

Coming right up, Mr Dyson.

You're late.
And you're ugly.

Mr Rafiel.

Miss Esther.

Thank you.
You don't have to thank him, girl.

It's what he's paid to do.
Sorry.

Thank you so much.

Big thing around these parts is
zombies.

Some people say that zombies are
corpses who've come back to life.

Other people say no, they are
living persons

who've been drugged by a Bokhor -
a voodoo witch doctor -

to do his bidding.

It's a horrible practise voodoo,
and an affront to Christianity.

It should be stamped out.

I think my first husband was one of
the living dead.

At least in the sack.

I once met a fella who claimed
he'd seen a zombie, you know.

I can't imagine anything more
terrifying.

Can you?

Mind you, the behaviour of some
people

in our so-called civilised society
is often no better.

Drink, drugs, bed hopping, suicide,

wives murdering husbands,

husbands doing away with their
wives.

Wouldn't you agree?

How do you find being a man of
God?

Oh, I'm sorry, were you talking to
me, Major Palgrave?

Yes, it's this glass
eye of mine -

it has a mind of its own.

Oh, no, no, it wasn't that - I was
wool gathering, I'm afraid.

Miles away.

Well, perhaps it was an unsuitable
topic for dinner.

But if you'll allow me to show you
something,

I think you'll find it interesting.

Well, Miss Marple...

Everything alright, I hope.
Oh, it is now!

Canon Prescott, I saw the
watercolour you've been working
on - it's absolutely lovely.

Thank you. It's really not, uh...

I say, Colonel Hillingdon, you've
caught the sun!

It suits you.

Mrs Hillingdon, I'm positively
green with envy -

he looks quite the film star.

What a smashing dress, Mrs Dyson.

I'm so jealous I could tear it off
your back.

Oh, you're no slouch yourself,
Molly.

I adore the colour of this shawl.

Well, you know, you can get it in
the little shop by reception.

Really?
Something of a hobby of mine.

I call it my Chamber of Horrors.

Now, look at this.
Innocent looking creature...

I hope Molly's been looking after
you all.

I'm afraid not. She's been flirting
with all the men except me.

I... I feel left out.

Now, let me show you something.

It was sent to me a few years back
by an old army pal.

It's just a snapshot showing off
some striped marlin

he'd caught out in Kenya.

Voodoo's not a subject to be taken
lightly.

It acts as a slow poison
affecting the whole of society.

Well, a letter arrives from my
chum...

I come here every year to try and
help educate people.

I always stay here.
Molly Kendall is a wonder.

So kind.

Saying that someone in the
background was probably a m*rder*r

who'd got away with it, not once,
but twice.

Now, here we are - see this blurry
figure here?

I think it must be...

Well, I'm damned!

I mean...

knocked this guy out of the park,

and the pitcher is seething,
he's having a bad day.

The guy's running round the
bases... Uh...

As I was saying, I'd like to have
shown you those tusks, Miss Marple.

It's the biggest elephant I've
ever shot.

Here you go, Major - it's all
yours.

Mind if I join in?

About that m*rder*r, Major Palgrave.

It was really nothing, Miss
Marple.

I must have made a mistake.

I mean, things like that don't
happen outside of books.

Oh, but they do, practically
every day.

If a m*rder*r get a formula that
works, they won't stop -

they go on with it.

Like Lucrezia Borgia.

Or the Brides in the Bath.

I'm so sorry, Major, but we need
to find Miss Marple a seat.

Oh...

Forgive me, but I think you've
heard quite enough

of our resident bore.

Thank you.
Major Palgrave.

Oh, thank you.

Yes...

Well, this is jolly, isn't it?

Not my sort of thing, I'm afraid,

all this leaping about
and carrying on.

You know, the Major's not so bad.

He's old and lonely

and likes to remember when he was
young and happy.

Well, he shouldn't drink so much.
He has high blood pressure.

He does look a rather alarming
purple colour.

I think it's a race between him
and old Mr Rafiel

to see who will drop off their
perch first.

The old vulture is fantastically
rich.

He made his money in chemicals and
fertilisers.

The young woman with him is his
secretary.

Or so he says.

The young man?
Jackson.

Rafiel would be helpless as a baby
without him.

He's a nurse, a valet and a fully
trained masseur to boot.

So nice to get everyone sorted
out.

And what brings you to St Honore?

My husband is a keen bird watcher.
I am less keen.

Edward's gone so far as to arrange
some sort of lecture

for later on in the week -

some fellow from the Audubon
Society is coming over.

Tell me about your friends - the
American couple.

Greg and Lucky Dyson.

We met them here a few years ago.
He's a photographer.

Rather good, actually.

A lot of nature and scenery for
the magazines.

I think I'll turn in.

I've rather overdone the old
firewater, I fear.

Yes, I'm not feeling 100%
myself. Oh.

Are you all right?

Excuse me.

I say, Major Palgrave...

I don't want to appear
ungrateful -

my nephew Raymond has gone to such
expense.

Doctor Haydock is convinced

the climate will be good for my
rheumatism.

It is beautiful.

It's a trifle monotonous.

So many palm trees.

But it's not like home.

Where there's always something
happening.

Well, this is... me.

I shall... bid you goodnight,
Miss Marple.

Goodnight. I-I do hope you're
feeling more yourself tomorrow.

Yes. Well, Errol must have mixed
the drinks

particularly strong tonight.

Not as young as I was.

Who's there?

Come...

Who's there?

Ah!

The current has washed it round
from the point.

Better get rid of it before any
of the guests come down.

It's not all fun and games, is it?
No.

Well, you can't have anything for
nothing, can you?

You certainly can't.

Do you think it's gonna be
all right?

We're making a go of it, aren't we?

You mustn't worry so. You don't
think people are saying...

it's not the same as when your
folks were running the place?

Don't be silly!

We're a great team, you and I.
As long as you think so.

I worry too much, thinking...
what if something should go wrong?

What could go wrong?
I don't know. I'm a fool.

You haven't had any more of those
dreams, have you?

No. I think that was the
shellfish.

Is everything all right?

Good morning, miss.
Another perfect day in paradise.

Oh, indeed.

Anything wrong?

Well, you'll have to know.
Everyone will have to know.

Poor Major Palgrave died in the
night.

Oh, dear. Oh, I am sorry.
Of course, he was quite old.

And he... had high blood pressure.

I suppose... he has been examined
by a doctor?

Mr Rafiel's nurse found him.

Apparently he'd arranged for a
massage this morning.

The local people have just been to
give him a death certificate.

It all seems quite straightforward,
but it's terribly worrying

for me and Tim.

Oh, there's no need to fret.

An elderly man like Major Palgrave,
with a fondness for alcohol...

If only it hadn't been so sudden.
Yes, it was sudden, wasn't it?

One minute he was laughing, joking

and telling stories, and the
next...

My dear, are you quite all right?

Yes, I thought...

It's nothing. I thought I...
I saw something in...

Do you ever get the feeling
someone is w...

I must have erm... I just
imagined it.

Yes, these things happen.

It's bad luck for the old boy, but
erm...

people can't live forever,
can they?

No. No, they can't.

What do you mean by barging in
here? Can't you knock?

I'm sorry, sir. I did knock.
I thought you might...

Are you all right? Errol's drinks
can have a powerful kick.

Oh, no, no, I'm not erm...

I have an upset stomach,
that's all.

Oh, poor you.

Sorry to shout like that.
I'm all out of kilter.

I think I must have had a bad
prawn last night.

Where is he?

There he is.

Oh! Yeah, look. There he is.

If you're very careful, you'll
spot him.

He's... extremely well camouflaged.

Look.
Yah-ha-ha!

It got me! Lucky, you really must
try to be a little quieter.

Hey, Greg.
Huh?

Take my picture. You never
photograph me any more.

I only try to take pictures of
uh... beautiful things these days.

Oh, aren't we comical?
Yeah.

He's over there in the Swizzlestick
tree.

Ed, your wife is right - this is
all too boring.

There goes my lucky charm.
Do you still love her, Greg?

Ed, you may know all there is to
know about birds,

but you don't know the first thing
about women,

and you don't know the first thing
about Lucky.

This is not as good as
Frangipanier.

One can't get it here.

It's a pity.

Are you going in for your dip
now? I'll go in when I'm ready.

It's gone half-past 11. Jackson
says...

Bugger what that fool says!

Caribbean isn't what it used to
be.

Can't move a step without some old
booby getting under your feet.

Hello!

Isn't this splendid?
Splendid!

I suppose you've heard the sad news.

My man Jackson told me all about
it.

The poor Major.

Ghastly ole bore!
He needn't have died

if he'd looked after himself
properly.

Come now, Mr Rafiel.
Look at me!

The doctors gave me up years ago.

If it wasn't for Jackson, they
might have been right.

Besides, Major Palgrave had high
blood pressure. Who says so?

He was very red in the face.

So what?

I said to him once, 'You've got to
watch your blood pressure.'

He said he had nothing to look out
for in that line,

his blood pressure was very good
for his age.

Men never like to admit there's
anything wrong with them.

Poppycock!

Talking of ailments, I don't
suppose...

I know it's a little presumptuous
of me,

but do you think your man Jackson
might be able to look at my knee?

Your knee?!

I thought the warmer weather might -

All right. Spare us the grisly
details.

What time is it?



I ought to have had my dip long
ago!

Why can't you... remind me of
these things, girl?

Old men are so ugly, aren't they?

I sometimes think they should all
be put to death at 40.

Perhaps 35 would be better.

Ooh!

Rheumatism very bad?

I live with it.
Is that why you're here?

Get away from the damp weather
back home?

I have a most attentive nephew,
Raymond.

It was his idea to pack me off
abroad.

I've only just recovered from a bad
go of pneumonia.

Damn it! I'm all over thorns!

Ouch!

Edward, you deliberately rammed
me into a thorn bush.

Hi!
Hello!

How about some lunch?
Oh, food can wait.

I'll die if I don't have a drink
at once. Or sooner.

Oh, nice pins, Miss M.

♪ In olden days, a glimpse of
stocking was looked at... ♪

Oh, hey, champ, get us some
drinks.

Like a Planter's Punch?
Lovely!

Planter's Punch.
And, Errol, put some music on.

It's quiet as the grave round here.

Hey, Molly. You gonna come for a
swim after lunch?

You look a vision in a swimsuit.
I'd love to. I'm rather busy.

Do all birdwatchers go around the
place armed to the teeth?

Two left feet!

He told me it's only loaded with
blanks.

Some of these parts are pretty
hairy.

The g*n's just a warning, nothing
more.

Whoa!
Whoo!

I can give you some pills for the
pain, gentle exercise will help.

Otherwise, erm...
Just old age.

I've offered to help with the
funeral arrangements for the Major.

Bad business. It seems so sad
to die alone like that

and so far from home.

He didn't care for English
winters.

Can't say I blame him. Did he,
like me, have health reasons

that made it necessary to winter
abroad? Not that I know of.

But I never examined him.

Well, not while he was alive, at
least.

But it was his blood pressure that
k*lled him?

I found a bottle of blood pressure
pills in his room - serenite.

How wonderful science is nowadays.

Doctors can do so much, can't they,
all with a little pill.

They can't bring the dead back to
life.

Yeah.

Oh, Canon, erm... I wonder if it's
not too much bother.

I was showing a snapshot of my
nephew, Raymond,

to the Major last night,

and I think it might have got
muddled up

with some of his own photographs.

You couldn't ask if it's among his
things, could you?

You can't miss it - Raymond is
holding up a very big fish.

A marlin, I believe it's called.

Hello?

Canon Prescott?

You're back, then?

Victoria.

Victoria, you know that little
favour I asked you about?

I'm sorry.

Please, Victoria, I'm begging you,
just this once.

I'm sorry, miss, but... I can't.
I will make it worth your while.

Just give me the address, I'll
get it myself.

OK.

Please don't tell anyone.

Thank you.

Lovely evening.

Oh, hello.

I got a little lost looking for my
bungalow.

Well, you look busy.

I need to clear the Major's room,
ready for the next guest.

Better not tell them what
happened, eh? No, I suppose not.

I always think it's very sad
having to look through

the personal possessions
of someone who's just died.

It's the little things I find so
poignant. Mm.

Things they'll never need again,
like their razor, their toothbrush,

or, in the Major's case, his bottle
of blood pressure pills.

Things you must have seen
a hundred times

when you were cleaning his room.

Must have.

Oh, well. Erm...

I'm sorry to have disturbed you.
No bother.

Wake up, man. What do you want?
It's not morning.

Wake up. I need to talk to you.
What's worrying you?

The little one coughing again?
It's bad, Errol.

It's getting worse.

Get some more medicine off Mama
Zogbe.

That's not enough. We need to take
her to a proper doctor.

We can't afford no doctor.
We need to do something.

It's the middle of the night.
We can't do nothing now.

We'll talk about it in the
morning. Now go to sleep.

Can't sleep. My mind is going round
and round like a fish in a bowl.

The little one will be all right.
It's not just that.

I've been thinking about the Major
man who died.

Something I don't like.
Something wrong about it.

Don't worry about that.
He was old, he died.

Listen, man, it's them pills.

Them pills in his room, there's
something wrong there. Leave it!

Don't go looking for trouble.
It's their business, nothing to do with us.

Man that is born of a woman hath
but a short time to live

and is full of misery.

He cometh up and is cut down like
a flower.

He flyeth, as it were a shadow
and never continueth in one stay.

In the midst of life, we are in
death.

I do think there might have been a
better turn out for the old chap.

Well, at least he's buried
somewhere that he loved.

In a week or so, no-one will even
remember him.

Or spare him a passing thought.

Except you, perhaps.
Yes.

Yes, I suppose it is all down to
me now.

All right, Victoria! All right,
I understand.

We don't want to make a fuss,

and I certainly don't want Tim
worried about this.

About what?

Here you are, sir.

I'm sorry to say we could find no
trace of your marlin photograph

among the Major's things.

Plenty of pictures of slaughtered
animals, but no fish I'm afraid,

large or small.

Never mind, I'm sure I can get
another print.

Well, here's to the old fellow.

He was something of a fixture at
Golden Palms.

Won't be the same next year.

In a funny way, I think I'll miss
his stories.

Do you recall what he was talking
about at dinner the night he died?

A lot of silly stuff about voodoo.

I mean after that.

I must confess, I wasn't really
listening.

I suppose he must have told you
his stories many times.

He had a store of them, and a
photograph to illustrate each one.

Whether it be some dead tiger
or...

you know.
Do I?

He loved... scandal, gossip.

Anything to do with uh...

You know. How shall I put it?
S-E-X.

Oh, come now, Canon. I'm not a nun!

Sex may not have been mentioned
in my day,

but there was plenty of it about.

And enjoyed far more than nowadays,

where it seems to have become
a kind of duty.

Not my territory, I'm afraid.

My church training taught me a
great deal about the soul,

but very little about the heart.

Other than that it's all a
terrible sin, of course.

Talking of sin, did the Major ever
talk to you about a m*rder*r?

I do remember something about
a woman -

a golden-haired Lucrezia Borgia

who poisoned her husband and her
lover. Something like that.

But, as I say, I never listened to
him that attentively.

And you couldn't see anything in
the photograph. A woman?

Are you quite sure?

I may not know a great deal about
men and women,

but I can still tell the
difference.

It all sounds rather idiotic, I
know, but as far as I can make out

Victoria has got it into her head
that someone put poison tablets

in the Major's...
What's the name of that stuff?

Sera-something bottle.

I think what she said was

that there was a bottle in there
labelled serenite.

It's quite commonly used.

Victoria said she'd never seen the
bottle in his room before.

How do you mean? It only turned up
after his death.

If they weren't his pills, could
they have poisoned him?

No, they wouldn't do anything.
But if they weren't his pills

he wouldn't have taken them in
the first place, would he?

Of course not. How stupid.

Victoria had us all thinking he'd
been poisoned.

Did the Major ever show you a
photograph of a m*rder*r?

A m*rder*r? I don't recall him ever
telling a story about a m*rder*r.

Plenty of tittle-tattle and
gossip.

You mean people staying at the
hotel?

You must have heard the rumours.

I'm afraid if I have I must have
forgotten it.

Molly Kendall?

Of course, you know her mother hung
herself in one of the bungalows.

How ghastly.
She was evidently a bit unstable.

Runs in the family.

I gather an uncle of hers took off
all his clothes

in one of the Tube stations.
Green Park I think it was.

After her mother died, her father
sent her away to England.

He couldn't cope.

Molly had some silly dream of
becoming an actress,

only she went and started some
squalid affair with a married man.

All very messy. He dashed over
there to straighten her out.

But by the time he got there,
poor, sweet, dull Tim

had already ridden to Molly's
rescue

and the other fellow had done a
bunk.

I think he was so grateful Molly
had found someone more suitable

he virtually drove them to the
church there and then.

What a terrible word that is,
'suitable'.

You know how these conditions can
make a woman...

you know, go for the men,
rather.

You've seen how Molly is - always
flirting!

And the way she carries on with
that waiter, Errol.

They grew up together, they were
very close.

Too close, if you take my
meaning.

Molly? Good Lord, no.

There could never be any scandal
or gossip about Molly.

She's not that type.

I think whoever told you that must
have muddled her with Lucky Dyson.

What makes you say that?
There are two types of blonde -

the sweet, innocent type
and the fake, the bottle blonde.

If anyone's going to be involved
in a scandal, it's the latter.

Careful. We don't want you going
over.

Ed, please. Not now, darling.

Well, when, then? It seems it's
not ever!

I'm at breaking point!
Don't be so overdramatic.

Overdramatic? After what I've done
for you?

Oh, Lucky.
Edward, wait! Stop it!

Ed!

Hi, there! You found my favourite
spot!

It's lovely here, isn't it?

I walk up here every afternoon.

It's really the nicest time.

Is everything quite all right?
Yes.

No. Erm...

I don't know.

What's the matter with me? I feel
like I'm losing control.

I'm just so terribly frightened.

What are you frightened of, dear?
Everything.

Voices in the bushes.

Footsteps.

I see a dark figure in my dreams.

Somebody hates me.

That's what I keep feeling -
somebody hates me. No!

Darling.

How long has this been going on
for? I don't know.

I can't remember. I can't remember
anything.

You mean you're having blackouts,
that sort of thing?

I suppose so.

I mean, sometimes... Oh...

Say it's five o'clock, and I can't
remember anything

since about half-past one or two.

Oh, dear.

Oh, darling.

Darling, you have to go and see a
doctor.

They can give you pills.

I don't want to see a doctor.
I won't...

I won't go near one!

Oh...

Good gracious, it's getting
frightfully late.

I ought to be getting back.

I can't leave Tim alone to cope
by himself.

Hello?

Hello!

Such a lovely day.
Why not?

That's what we're here for, isn't
it?

You're so severe!

May I?

Of course, the weather is a very
English topic for conversation.

Perhaps you'd rather talk
business?

I'm afraid I don't know a great deal
about the chemicals industry.

Jackson! Esther!

Where are those two when I need
them? Ah!

It seem so quiet without the Major
here.

The chattering old booby talked
too much.

The trouble with gossip though is
one can never quite pin down

where the stories originated.
Mm.

For instan-
Jackson!

For instance, I wonder who started
the rumour

that the Major had high blood
pressure?

Those pills they found in his room
weren't his, you know.

Of course they weren't.

Somebody's been clever.
What do you mean by that?

Well, you said so yourself - the
Major talked too much.

What if he said something he
shouldn't have?

I hope you're not suggesting that
someone did the Major in

because he knew about something.

Did he ever show you a photograph
of a m*rder*r?

He had hundreds of the damn
things.

Collected them.
Yes, I know. That's the problem.

The one I'm interested in

was of someone who had k*lled more
than once.

I vaguely recall some complicated
story

about a chap who'd lost two wives
in the same suspicious manner.

Suicide, the pair of them.

And did you see the photograph?

As I say, he had hundreds.

Men who k*lled their wives,
wives who k*lled their husbands,

mistresses who poisoned their
parrots.

The other evening, he was about to
show me a snapshot of a m*rder*r,

when he saw someone across the
table and flew into a panic.

The next thing, he was dead and
there was no sign of that photograph

anywhere among his possessions.

Not quite the gentle fluffy
old lady you look, are you?

I don't know whether to take that
as a compliment.

You can take it any way you like.

So you think Palgrave was m*rder*d
to shut him up?

If our m*rder*r had k*lled before
and quite got away with it,

there would be no need to go to
these lengths

to silence old Major Palgrave.

Unless whoever it is was planning
to do it again. Precisely.

If we don't act swiftly, I fear
another m*rder will be committed

right under our noses.

And you never saw the photograph
of the m*rder*r, Mrs Marple? No.

So you don't know if it was a man
or a woman? I'm afraid not, no.

And who certified the death
certificate?

Dr Graham, I suppose? He didn't
have any doubts, did he?

He may have been influenced

by the bottle of serenite tables
in the room.

You want me to believe that
this person

in this mysterious missing
photograph

planted the pills to make it look
like a heart attack?

They thought they could get away
with murdering Palgrave

just because he was old and nobody
would care.

Well, Miss Marple does care...
I appreciate that.

But if he didn't die of blood
pressure, what did he die of?

It is possible that somebody put
something in his drink.

Something that would not leave any
recognisable traces?

Well... Not everyone is
so considerate as to use arsenic.

With all due respect, it is
a rather fanciful story.

If you were to exhume the body

and give it a proper post-mortem
examination...

Thank you very much for your
suggestion, Mrs Marple.

It's MISS Marple, damn it.

But we are a very busy police
force.

With more pressing matters to deal
with.

I suggest that the two of you go
back to your lovely hotel

and enjoy the rest of your holiday.
You are not listening to us.

The professional thing to do would
be -

The St Honore police force has been
doing perfectly fine

without your help, thank you very
much, Mr Rafiel.

Times have changed - you British
are no longer in charge.

You cannot just come in here and
tell me

what the professional thing to do
is.

And as I was saying, I'm busy.

Now, look here -
No, no, no, let's leave,

before we have a real heart attack
on our hands.

I shall alert Jackson.

I will not be spoken to like that
by a bloody policeman!

I assure you we take all accounts
seriously.

Who does he think he is?!

We'll get to the bottom of this,
Miss Marple,

and shove the evidence right up
his... Oh, do be careful, Jackson!

Are you going back to the hotel,
Miss M?

No, thanks, Jackson. I have some
things I want to do in Jamestown.

OK. Suit yourself.

The first time he tried it he was
sick,

the second time his hat blew off!

Oh, right, I best be looking busy,
Tim.

Mr Rafiel will be wanting to take
his dip.

I don't know how you stick it,
Johnny.

He ain't so bad. He likes to play
up the crotchety old man routine.

I'm used to it.

Besides, he pays very well indeed,
tell your mother.

I was lucky enough to marry into
it.

'Lucky' is the word.

She's a lovely girl, your Molly.
Don't I know it.

Oh! Speaking of Lucky.

All-in-all, the scenery around
here is very agreeable.

That's my taxi. Ah... my purse.

I just keep losing the damn
things.

Cheers.

Where did you find this?

It is very, very special.

It is powerful gris-gris.

I tell you, in the wrong hands it
can make big trouble.

We make them for tourists.

They stick pins in them.

Did you find that at the hotel?

Yes.

How did you know?
I saw you there.

Have any of the other guests from
Golden Palms been to visit you?

Maybe they have, maybe they
haven't.

That is between me and them.

I will tell you one story, Miss
Marple,

because it is about a dead man.

Mr Parker de Wit III.

He used to come see me when he
visited the island.

He wanted me to help him, let's
say, keep up with his young wife.

But then he stopped coming.

Because he was dead!

And she had married someone else.

Her name was Lucky.

And her new husband was Gregory
Dyson.

Are you telling me your medicine
may have hastened his end?

Not my medicine.

Someone else's, I think.

I only use my medicine for good.

Have you seen my pills, darling?

Just look for them, Greg, why
don't you.

Thank you, darling!

I don't know how I'd get by
without you!

You'd like that, wouldn't you?
Like what?

Life without your lucky charm.

Then you could sniff around every
stray girl in Christendom.

I just want the old Lucky back,
the one I fell in love with.

I miss her.

I'm lonely without her.

She's not coming back.

Somewhere along the way, that
young, carefree, happy thing

got hit by a truck. If you hate me
so much, why don't you leave?

Why don't you?
Lucky, I -

I'll tell you why - because of
what we did.

Our secret.

We can never trust each other not
to run off at the mouth.

I...

I didn't do anything, darling.

You did.

You married me.
Yeah.

Do you really think that anyone
would believe

that you had no part in it?

No, baby...

this is it.

And every time I look at you, I
am reminded of what I did.

For love.

Is there no way out?

No.

Not that I can think of.

Oh, what's the bloody point?!

We must keep up appearances,
darling.

That's all I've ever done, keep up
appearances.

I want to go home, Evelyn.
What, and leave Lucky?

I've known all along. Unlike you,
I'm not a fool.

Women tend not to be, despite what
men like to believe.

Greg, I imagine, is... blissfully
unaware of the situation.

For my part, I'm prepared to carry
on turning a blind eye.

So why go back to England now?

We don't want to fuel any more
gossip, do we?

I can't stick it any longer.

You fell wildly in love with Lucky,
and now it's over.

At least as far as she's
concerned.

No. No, there's more to it than
that.

There's something she made me do.

If I don't get away from her, I
swear I shall k*ll her.

Be quiet!

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry.

If I don't tell someone, I think
I'll go mad.

Don't be so bloody childish. I
know exactly what you've done.

You are transparent!

But you will bury your dirty
little secret deep in your heart

and forget about it. I will not
have you ruin your life.

Why? What do you care?

You don't love me, you never have.
You've never loved anyone.

You couldn't be more wrong if you
tried.

All I want is for them to be
happy.

Something I've never managed to
achieve myself.

There will be no upset in their
lives.

No newspaper headlines.

No... unexplained tears at the
breakfast table.

They will be happy.

It will always be summer for them.

And I will do whatever it takes to
make it so.

I'm not like you - I'm not strong.

Then let me be strong for you.

Ah, Mr Fleming! Welcome to Golden
Palms.

May I introduce you to two of our
guests -

Miss Esther Watters and Miss Jane
Marple.

Charmed, I'm sure.
How do you do?

This is Mr Ian Fleming. He has a
villa over in Jamaica.

Mr Fleming is a writer.

Well, hello, Molly!

Ever so sorry!

Did I startle you, little girl?

I didn't hear you coming, Mr Dyson,
sir.

It made me jump.
Mr Dyson?

We're very formal tonight.

Tim and I think it's more polite

not to be too handy with
Christian names.

Not even for old times' sake?

Greg...

Whoa!

What you got there? What you
hiding from me?

Why you so angry, man? What's got
into you?

Where you get that? Huh?

Where you get all this money?
Ain't none of your business.

You just give it...
Where you get it from?

A man gave it to me. Maybe he
likes me.

You seeing another man?
What?

And you never look at another
woman? You're my woman.

You sure? You sure you don't
prefer blondes?

So, what do you write about, Mr
Fleming?

I'm working on a... little spy
story.

Just a bit of fun.

The trouble is, I'm stuck.

I can't think of a suitable name
for my hero.

I usually find inspiration strikes

in the most unusual places, Mr
Fleming.

Let's hope it does!

The police aren't going to be any
use.

So it looks like it's down to the
two of us.

Yes, I think you're right.

So, what do we have?

The Major recognises the k*ller in
the photograph

right in front of him, across the
table.

Who's sitting there? Do you
remember?

Lucky and Greg Dyson, Evelyn and
Edward Hillingdon,

and behind them, Molly, Errol and
your man Jackson.

Ah, Jackson!

How long has he been with you?

Five years. Before that, he was
out in Kenya with the army.

Medical Corps.

He left under something of a
cloud.

There are very big marlin to be
caught out in Kenya, I hear.

Uh, ladies and gentlemen, first of
all

I'd like to thank Colonel
Hillingdon,

who I'm sure is here somewhere,
for arranging

what promises to be a most unusual
and interesting evening.

So, without further ado, allow me
to introduce tonight's speaker -

author of Birds of the West Indies
- Mr James Bond.

Uh, t-t-thank you.

Erm, my name is Bond. Uh, James
Bond.

And tonight, I'd like to tell you
just a little bit

about some of the fascinating birds

to be found here in the islands,
from the...

So, one of those seven people has
k*lled before,

and they intend to do so again.

Whoever it is believes they have a
successful formula.

Where do we start?

Find the intended victim,
and we find our m*rder*r.

That's an easy one.

Yes?

Proper typecasting.

Sick men with too much money.

Forest and even guano cliffs.

Guano?
Bird droppings.

Pardon my French.

They're very valuable as
fertiliser.

Now, some men might be drawn to
the guano.

I, myself, prefer the...

Who would want to see you dead?

There are several men in London
who wouldn't burst into tears

if they read my obituary in The
Times.

How about Esther, or Jackson?

Would either of them profit by your
death?

I pay Jackson enough

so that I am more valuable to him
alive than dead.

Esther's not to know it,

but when I keel over she'll come
into a tidy sum.

Sorry!

Squawk.

I do hope tonight goes well.
For Tim's sake.

Ever since that bloody old Palgrave
died he's been frantic with worry.

And Molly's not much help.

She's been good...

Molly!

I don't know... I don't know what
happened.

I don't know anything.

It...

What's the matter with me?

You must try to remember.
She can't take much more.

What did you see?
I don't remember.

I was going to meet someone.

And then I noticed something
white.

I stopped and I pulled...

And I tried to raise her up, but I
got blood on my hands.

Oh, her face.

Her face!
Molly, don't.

VICTORIA!

It's all right. The police
will want to talk to you.

Not until we know exactly what's
going on.

You don't believe her, do you?

Who's there?

Victoria?

Come on. Come on, sweet pea.

Have you found anything?
Hopeless!

We should knock it off and
organise a proper search party
in the morning.

No. We keep looking.

Can someone just tell me
w-w-what's going on?

What are supposed to be looking
f... looking for?

It's Victoria, the maid.

Molly thinks she's dead.

There must be some mistake - we
only just saw her now.

You couldn't have.
We did!

Back along the path.
Are you sure?

You can't be sure of anything in
the dark.

You'd think it'd be pretty easy
to find a body.

I need a drink.

Molly, darling, what's the matter?
In there, I saw her.

Saw her? Saw who?
In the mirror, I saw her.

I saw Victoria. It's all right,
I'll go in and look.

Just try to calm down.

There's no-one there.

Nothing.

Had she taken any of these, do
you know?

I don't know.

I don't think so. Something scared
her.

She's in shock.

I'd like to give her a shot to
calm her down, help her sleep.

But if she's already taken several
of these...

Several? You don't mean...?

You think she'd do something
stupid?

Don't leave her on her own.
Watch over her.

If she gets hysterical again, I'll
give her something

to knock her out for a few hours.
Then she should be fine.

It'll take more than a
shot of happy juice. What?

She needs to see a psychiatrist.
She should be in a hospital. No!

I don't want people like that
monkeying around with her.

They only make people worse.
Oh, come on!

Are you the only guy that can't
see it?

There is no dead body. She's...
She's crazy.

Oh, shut up! You don't know
anything about it. Don't I?

I used to come here with my first
wife,

back when Molly's folks were
running the place.

Long before you came on the scene.

And she was always pretty, shall
we say, emotional.

She got away with it cos she was
a looker.

Let's face it, she'd have to be
nuts to go for a guy like you.

How dare you speak about Molly like
that! How dare you!

I know what are you, what you want.

You think you can have every woman
you like, don't you?

If you do anything to harm Molly,
I will k*ll you.

I swear to God I will k*ll YOU!

I wondered if you wanted relieving,
Tim.

There must a hundred and one things
you need to attend to.

Oh, thank you. Yes, yes. You're a
saviour.

She hasn't woken all night.

She's not mad, you know.

There's just something in her past
that haunts her.

I gather you rescued her from
someone... unsuitable.

Yes. Yes, before I met her there
was a married man.

It's true, he... didn't treat her
very well.

She'd never tell me who it was.
She didn't want me to dwell on it.

Well, don't worry, I shall guard
her like a lion.

I think we need some fresh.

Are you all right?
Ooh!

Oh!

Gosh. My shoelaces were untied.

I've taken quite a tumble.

I'm afraid I'm not so steady on my
feet these days.

My knee doesn't help.

Well, I'm so sorry, but I must go.

I'm supposed to be looking after
poor Molly.

Poor Molly? If you ask me, it's all
a big act.

Making herself out the tragic
little figure,

pretending to see things.
Why would one pretend to be mad?

To cover up for stuff.

She's probably done something awful,

or is planning to do something.

I heard of a woman who m*rder*d her
husband,

claimed to be mad at the time.

'Diminished responsibility' they
call it.

She was out of prison in two years.

I wonder where you heard that story.
Major Palgrave, perhaps?

Probably.

He was interested in murderers in
poisoning and all that stuff.

I've found her. Dear God, I've
found her. Found who?

My Victoria. Just like Molly said.

When do you suppose they'll let us
leave?

I'd imagine there are worse places
to be holed up than paradise.

Having said that, it looks as
though

there's a storm elbowing its way
into the party.

Typical.

We're supposed to be happy, and
instead we're miserable.

I blame the Major.
Everyone blames the Major.

He had the evil eye.

I'd make the sign of the horns

every time I thought he was
looking my way.

Do you really believe in all that,
hmm? Magic and voodoo?

I don't know.

That poor girl, Victoria - first
she was dead, then she wasn't.

Then she was dead again.

We have to stick to what we know to
be true.

We know a dead body cannot get up
and walk about.

It's a lot of overheated nonsense.
The tropics has that effect.

If only people would just behave!

Molly!

You're up.
I feel so much better, darling.

I was so tired, I think I just
needed to sleep.

I'm not sure you should be out of
bed.

I can't lie around here all day
like a stuffed dummy.

I'm going to get dressed, and go
out,

have a nice walk and clear my head.

Oh, damn.

You were seen arguing with
Victoria before the m*rder.

We always argue.

She's a strong woman.

Sh-She was.

What did you argue about?

Some man had given her money.

Victoria's a good woman, but I get
jealous.

She needed money for the child.

The little girl is sick, and we
cannot afford medicine.

Have you ever seen this?

No, I'm afraid it's very important.

I'm sorry, Inspector Daventry, but
I'm still trying to run a hotel.

Is there a problem, Mr Kendall?
Yes, there is.

It looks like we're in for a storm.

When the last big one hit, we lost
the electrics for two days.

I need to stock up on candles,

but your people are saying I'm not
allowed off the premises.

It's all right, Mr Kendall can
leave.

But you come straight back - we'll
need to talk to you.

Right. Thank you.

We'll need to talk to your wife,
as well. Yes, obviously.

Ed?

I'm so sorry, I was looking for
Edward.

Face cream.

It's very important for the skin.

The salt water and the sun does dry
it out awfully.

Yeah. Well, look, you're busy
and...

You should use cream, Lucky.

If I may say, you're looking a
little rough around the edges.

Thank you. I'll bear that in mind.
Tell Ed th-

Tell him what?
Oh, you know.

Yes, I do know. I know everything.

He talked?
He didn't need to.

It wasn't exactly original, what
you two did.

Edward fell for someone... rather
obvious.

If only you would show him a
little affection.

Is that what you showed him?

I gave him what he wanted.
You led him on!

Promised him the world.

At least your grubby little corner
of it.

But there was one problem, wasn't
there?

Your first husband - Mr de Wit III.

Parker was desperately ill.
Oh, give it a rest, Lucky.

That might have worked on Edward,
but not on me.

What did you tell him?

That you and Parker had talked about
a way out of his suffering,

but to avoid suspicion, could Edward
go to the chemist

and get what you needed?

Whatever I did for Parker I did
out of kindness.

He was in great pain.

But I imagine it was still something
of a nasty surprise

to find himself knocking on the
Pearly Gates.

What difference did a few months
make?

All the same, darling, one doesn't
do that sort of thing.

Well, Edward did.

And because of his guilt, you used
him like a dish rag

to clean up every mess you've made.

That is going to stop.

Is that understood?

Hi! You there!

Hi!

Are you calling me?
Of course I was calling you!

Who do you think I was calling?
A cat?

Please... come sit down. I want to
talk to you.

You were right about Palgrave.

They dug him up and had a look.
And they found?

Traces of something that only a
doctor could pronounce properly.

Enough of the stuff to do him in

and leave the symptoms of high
blood pressure

aggravated by overindulgence of
alcohol.

Poor old chap - stick him in the
ground

and let's get on with enjoying
ourselves.

In a way, I'd rather have been
wrong about him.

I expect you'd rather have been
wrong

about there being another m*rder
as well.

The thing of it is, Mr Rafiel, I
don't believe Victoria's death

was the one being planned by our
m*rder*r.

I think, like the Major,

she stumbled upon something and paid
the price.

Yeah, it's too bad about the maid.

She was a nice kid, too.
Although, between you and me,

I think she liked to dip her
fingers in the honey jar.

How do you mean, sir?
I don't want to say too much,

but I noticed a few little things
went missing from my room.

Mr Dyson, I believe you take a
preparation called serenite.

Yeah. Uh... Little pink tablets -
blood pressure.

And have any of your pills gone
missing lately?

Yeah... Funny you should mention
that,

a bottle did do a vanishing act
the other day.

Is it important?

As things are, anything might be
important.

Can you account for your
whereabouts

at the time of the m*rder?

If you can figure out what time
that was,

I'll try and figure out where I
was, OK?

But you gotta admit, the whole
thing is kinda confused.

And... I was uh... I was kinda
drunk.

Your man Jackson is a snooper.
Doesn't surprise me.

That's why they kicked him out of
the army -

caught him rifling through the
filing cabinets

ferreting out secrets.

Still think he might be a suspect?

I don't know.

But there's something, something
vital, something someone's said,

and it's nagging away at me.

Nope.

I'll just have to let my guard drop
and let it sneak up on me.

We'll carry on in the morning.
What a day.

Ah, Inspector.

Are you going to give me the third
degree?

Ah, no, no, no, no.

But I would like to offer you an
apology, Miss Marple.

No, there's really no need.

The important thing is that you
find the k*ller

before you have another body on
your hands.

Molly.

She must have drowned herself, Tim.

There's nothing you could have
done. I should have been here.

Why would she do this?
Turn her over.

What?!
You can't leave her like this!

Lucky.
She's wearing Molly's shawl.

Oh, thank God.

T-Tim.

Molly!

Darling!

Molly, what happened to you?

What have I done?
Shh.

I don't understand - why was Lucky
wearing Molly's shawl?

She admired it. She said she was
going to get one like it.

Evidently she did.

You all right, Miss M?
Lucky Dyson left her handbag here.

I should take it to Greg.
I don't think you should.

Could it be poison of some kind?
Or... Or medicine?

It's... medicine of a sort.

Cocaine, I reckon.

I wonder what made her so
unhappy she felt she needed this?

People take drugs for all sorts of
reasons - it's nothing new.

Witches in the Middle Ages used to
anoint themselves.

Rub belladonna into their skin to
bring on hallucinations.

And in India, the young wife who'd
married an old husband,

didn't want to get rid of him and
end up on the funeral pyre,

so she'd keep him under drugs,

make him a semi-imbecile, drive
him more or less off his head.

Sounds like the voodoo stories the
Major was so keen on.

Witch doctors keeping people alive
with drugs, all that sort of thing.

Is that what you think,

that I'm keeping old Mr Rafiel
going with pills and potions?

Oh, no, I don't mean to imply...

It's his work that keeps him
going.

If he was to stop for just one day,

I think his heart would cease up
and he'd drop dead.

I should have thought that taking
a holiday

was rather a risky prospect, then.

Yes?

Oh. Oh, come in.

I'm sorry, madam.

I should have told you what you
needed to know before.

Then maybe an innocent girl would
not have been m*rder*d.

Told Victoria many times - rich
folk just bring trouble.

It's not just poor Victoria.

There's the Major and now Lucky
Dyson as well.

So who was it from the hotel who
came to see you?

Quickly, you must tell me.

The church man.

Prescott.

The canon?

Are you quite sure? He made
me swear not to tell anyone

he had been to see me.

And what did the canon want from
you?

He's in love with Molly Kendall.

Yes, I've noticed.

So he wanted some sort of love
potion, did he,

to make her feel the same about him?
No.

He wanted me to help him fall OUT
of love with her.

So I sold him some juju.

How far would he go, I wonder, to
protect Molly?

I didn't have him down as a
suspect.

He wasn't in the Major's line of
sight at dinner.

And I'm positive he was there at the
lecture when Victoria was m*rder*d.

But the police can't be sure
exactly when she was k*lled.

Though they think it could have
been after the lecture.

Well, if that's so, a trick has
been played on all of us.

Is it him?

Is Canon Prescott the m*rder*r?

Because if it is, I will k*ll him.

I will k*ll whoever hurt my
Victoria. Errol, please.

There is one final piece of this
puzzle I need to place.

And until I do, promise me... you
won't do anything drastic.

All right, please!

Be quiet.
Have I missed anything?

Oh, you never miss a thing.

We will find out if it was an
accident, or something worse.

With everything that's going on
around here,

I'd say the chances of it being an
accident are g*dd*mn unlikely.

I mean, why was she even on the
beach in the first place?

You'll have to accept she was very
unhappy and took her own life.

Shut your mouth! You don't know
anything about her.

Somebody k*lled Lucky.

I'm afraid, Mr Dyson, if that's the
case,

then you, being her husband, will
be the prime suspect.

Get lost!
Don't jump to any conclusions.

Anyone in this room might have had
a motive.

Or somebody who isn't in this room.
Where is Molly anyway, Tim?

My Lucky is dead, and I know
perfectly well who k*lled her!

You're gonna have to calm down,
Greg. This isn't helping.

Lucky - she wasn't really, was
she?

Maybe she was right about the
Major and his evil eye.

His evil eye...

His eye!

Of course!

I've been foolish. So very foolish.

I ought to have known from the
very beginning what this was about.

It's so simple.

Let's face it, folks, there's
only one person in this hotel

unhinged enough to k*ll three
people.

You better watch what you're
saying, Greg.

Your g*dd*mn crazy wife, Tim!

I warned you, Greg! I warned you!

Grow up, Tim, for goodness sake!
He's out cold.

Please calm down, Mr Kendall.
Why? What's the point?

My business is ruined, it won't
survive this scandal and Molly...

Why doesn't anyone say it? What
we're all thinking.

Molly was carrying on with a
married man before she met you.

The Major must have known all
about it.

It was quite obviously Greg.

Now Lucky's out of the way, she's
free to marry him.

Please...

She doesn't know what she's been
doing, she doesn't mean it.

She needs help, Tim.
We'll need to talk to her, Tim.

Yes, I understand.

But... please, let me see her.

Five minutes.

Five minutes.

Well, what do you say, Miss Marple?

Looks like they've solved the
whole thing without y...

Molly...

Molly, darling, it's me, Tim.

Tim.

It's all right.

It's all right now, it's over.

You must do the right thing,
Molly.

No. No, Tim.
You must.

No more bad dreams.

No...
Just... pull the trigger,

and it's finished.

Please, Tim, I don't want to.

Pull it, you silly little b*tch!

That's enough!
Oh, thank God!

You're just in time. I think she
was trying to k*ll herself.

Don't be a fool, Tim - I heard
everything.

No. Molly, she...

This is all very similar to one of
the Major's stories.

About a man whose wives had a nasty
habit of committing suicide.

Give me the g*n, Tim.

Molly's gone insane - she's shot
someone.

No, Tim.

I always knew that Molly was the
intended victim.

But up till now I wasn't absolutely
sure who the k*ller was,

so... I asked Errol to change the
b*ll*ts in your g*n

for someone of Colonel Hillingdon's
blanks.

Just in case.

I think we've found our m*rder*r,
Inspector.

Let go of him!

Tim! Tim! Let go of him!

It's Molly - she's been telling
lies!

Tim, I love you!
Shut your mouth!

Are you trying to get me hanged?
Shut that big ugly mouth of yours!

Molly, I...

Molly!

Grr!

There was never anything wrong
with you, dear.

Tim has been drugging you.

He put something in your face cream

that would give you dreams and
hallucinations.

And... he left this around, didn't
he?

Give you ideas.

Yes, he was good at that, giving
people ideas.

The thing you feared, it was him.
But he won't scare you any more.

And you have friends, Molly -
people who love you.

It's all over now. All over.

People come to these islands to
play, to have affairs, to drink,

and worse.

They think that the normal rules
of civilised behaviour

do not apply there.

And they call us savages!

It was Tim who tried to have us
believe

there was some voodoo quality to
all this.

He borrowed some of the voodoo props
from the party

to put you off the scent.

The business about the married
man

Molly was seeing before she met
Tim,

that was just another red herring,
I suppose? Not entirely.

Molly WAS sent to England by her
father,

and she did start an affair with a
married man.

Oh, I should imagine
he started it with her.

A naive young girl whose wealthy
father

owned a smart hotel in the
Caribbean - she was quite a catch.

And then Tim turned up and rescued
her from this rotter!

No, Tim was the rotter.

He cooked up a story with Molly,
disappeared for a while,

and then turned up under a new
name.

Her father wasn't to know the
truth.

And Tim's wife conveniently
committed suicide?

Well, it wasn't the first time he
tried that little trick.

No, he'd done it already once
before he met Molly.

When he was out in Kenya.

He was the figure in the photograph

that the Major never quite got
round to showing me.

Well, I'm damned!

And that was what was stumping me -

Tim hadn't been in the group that
the Major looked at.

But I was forgetting his glass
eye.

He wasn't looking at that side of
the table at all.

He was looking straight at Tim.

And Tim knew.

It was Tim in the Major's
photograph,

he was the m*rder*r who'd k*lled
before.

And it wasn't just Molly he had in
his sights.

When Tim discovered how much money
Esther stood to inherit,

he decided she'd make a most
suitable wife number four.

And, fearing that the Major would
upset his plans

to do away with Molly, went to work.

Leading us a trail of misdirection

that would end up with the poisoning
of poor old Major Palgrave.

With the Major out of the picture,
Tim set about covering his tracks.

He planted Gregory Dyson's serenite
tablets

in the Major's room as a possible
cause of death.

The maid - Victoria -

realised there's something not
right with the pills.

She desperately needed money for
her sick child,

and Tim offered it to her

if she would go along with his plan
to shake up Molly.

He could be very persuasive.

He fed her a despicable lie about
Molly and Errol.

So Victoria faked her own death,
to make Molly appear mad.

Molly, darling, what's the matter?
In there - I saw her.

Saw her? Saw who?

In the mirror, I saw her - I saw
Victoria.

There's no-one there.

But Tim was not one to leave any
loose ends untied.

And, of course, he had the perfect
alibi,

since he was at the lecture at
the time of her fake death.

But how did he manage to drown
Lucky

when he was nowhere near the hotel?

And, for that matter, why did he
drown her?

Sadly, that was a mistake.

She was in the wrong place at the
wrong time.

Poor, tragic Lucky Dyson,

who'd turned to drugs to obliterate
her guilty conscience.

Tim knew that Molly loved to walk
up to the point every day.

What he didn't know was

that it was also Lucky Dyson's
favourite spot.

The current carried her body round
to the beach at Golden Palms.

It was very clever.
Oh, on the contrary.

Like most murderers who have got
away with it once, he was stupid.

Stupid and overconfident.

We always catch them in the end.

Scotch, please.

Oh!

It makes no sense to me.

Tim had all this - why would he
risk losing it

just to get rid of Molly?

Oh, I think your Mr Rafiel can
help us there.

How's that?
No more secrets, Mr Rafiel.

I don't know what you mean.

You haven't been here on holiday at
all, have you?

You've never taken a holiday in
your life.

You've been trying to buy the
hotel for your chemicals company.

Tim is not a complete fool.

He knew that the land was far more
valuable

than a risky hotel business.

I was paying some attention to the
ornithological lecture.

I should imagine that the guano
deposits

are worth a considerable fortune.

And Molly would never sell the
hotel - too sentimental.

Which is not something you would
ever be accused of, Miss Marple.

I've lived too long, seen too much
for that.

That looks like a young man who's
still very much in love.

I think he's had to accept that
it's something he just can't fight.

I hope it plays out for Molly.

She deserves a little happiness
now. Mm.

Proof positive, though, that Mama
Zogbe's potions

were all just hogwash.

Oh, I don't know.

Her tea's done wonders for my knee!

Well, I must be going.

Ave, Caesar, nos morituri te
salutamus.

I'm afraid I don't know very much
Latin.

But you understand?
Yes.

Yes... I understand.

It's been a great pleasure to know
you.

It's been a great pleasure to know
you, too, Miss Marple.