-♪ What a friend we have in Jesus ♪ ♪ All our sins and griefs to bear ♪ ♪ What a privilege to carry ♪ ♪ Everything to God in prayer ♪ ♪ O what peace we often forfeit ♪ ♪ O what needless pain we bear ♪ ♪ All because we do not carry ♪ ♪ Everything to God in prayer ♪ [ Train whistle blows ] ♪♪ ♪♪ -♪ When this bloody war is over ♪ ♪ No more soldiering for me ♪ ♪ When I get my civvy clothes on ♪ ♪ Oh, how happy I shall be ♪ ♪ No more church parades on Sunday ♪ ♪ No more begging for a pass ♪ ♪ You can tell the sergeant-major ♪ ♪ To stick his passes up his... ♪ -Oh, no, don't mind me.

I've heard much worse.

Two years on the front line.

The language.

At first, I couldn't stomach it.

But then I thought... -They're just words.

-Exactly.

They really don't mean anything.

♪♪ It's actions that matter.

That's what we're judged on.

Don't you agree?

♪♪ [ Blow striking ] ♪♪ -Not everyone can be saved.

[ Blow lands ] [ Wheels squealing ] ♪♪ [ Whistle blows ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [ Bird song, bell pealing ] -We can industrialize the murder of half the civilized world, but try making a decent golf ball.

-It's more complicated than murder.

-Hmm -- that's rich coming from you, Mrs. Christie.

-The reason I'm here -- -I hate talking shop on the fairway.

Let's play a few holes.

-I hate golf.

-Then what are you doing at a golf course?

-Trying to talk to you, Sir Arthur.

I need help -- with my writing.

-Well, I'm not going to talk unless you play.

Assuming you can, of course.

-Yes, my husband loves golf.

♪♪ [ Sighs ] ♪♪ ♪♪ -That detective, your Flemish dandy.

You'll learn to despise him.

Likewise, your readers.

-[ Scoffs ] -They'll think your creation is theirs.

-If I can't write anymore, none of that will matter.

-Well, it's probably for the best.

I'd be far happier if I never started again.

-You'd be much poorer.

-Yes.

-And everyone would hate you.

-That's true.

-What if Sherlock Holmes had never existed?

-Hmm.

Good riddance to an intolerable dick.

Hmm.

-Ah... -Ah!

-But it's not a character I'm talking about -- it's me.

-All right.

What's the problem?

Why can't you write?

-People are solving my murders.

-Yes?

-They're assuming it's the most unlikely candidate and guessing correctly.

-And?

-Well, what would be the point in reading 300 pages of clever insight and deduction if the audience knew who the killer was in the first five?

-Ah!

[ Chuckles ] Clever bastards, aren't they, your readers?

-I'm not sure that guesswork is clever.

-You spend months and months plotting and sub-plotting, layering subterfuge and sowing misdirection, and the buggers find a shortcut and chop you off at the knees, hmm?

-Exactly.

But what do I do?

-I'd stop writing.

-I've only just started.

-I've never told anyone... but I dared to start writing again.

If you tell anyone, I'll deny it and I'll make sure your name is thoroughly dragged through the mud.

-I understand.

-You're not gonna like it.

-At this stage, I'd do anything.

-Design a golf course.

That's what I did.

It was like channeling the hand of God.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -You said an hour, it's been two.

The writing's gonna have to wait.

-How can I make this fly properly?

-I must have an answer.

I can't wait any longer.

-Can we talk about this later?

-There's nothing to talk about.

I want a divorce.

I just need you to agree.

-Well, I won't.

-[ Scoffs ] Nancy and I... You know how sorry we are.

But the quicker this is done, the less pain for everyone.

Nancy is suffering, too.

[ Knocking on door ] Yes, Carlo, everything all right?

-There's a lady to see you.

-Who is it?

I've no appointments.

-A Miss Rogers.

She says it's important.

-Since when did I receive fans at home?

-She's a nurse.

-She can come back another time.

-It's okay, Carlo, it's not your fault.

Why don't you see what she wants?

If it's anything that can wait, I'll send her on her way.

-God, I hate you.

-Then give me a bloody divorce.

-No!

-Why not?

-Because I love you.

-But I don't love you.

-I know.

[ Footsteps approaching ] [ Knocking on door ] -Oh.

-This is Miss Rogers.

-Hello, Mrs. Christie.

-Is this a professional visit?

I don't remember any medical appointments.

-No, no, nothing like that.

-Then why are you here?

-I need your assistance.

-How so?

-I want you to help me solve a murder.

-What?

-Six years ago, my friend was bludgeoned to death on a train.

They never caught the killer, and I've been investigating ever since.

I'm sure you know the case -- it was famous.

She was called Florence.

She was Nurse Nightingale's goddaughter.

-I'm sorry, Miss Rogers, but whatever fantasy you've been indulging, I'm a writer, not a detective.

-Let me just outline the details.

It's a mystery, like one of your books.

-No doubt, Miss Rogers, but still, there are a hundred reasons why I can't.

[ Thud ] Please, could you see Miss Rogers out?

I must return to my work.

-Please!

I've nowhere else to turn.

She deserves justice.

-[ Sighs ] ♪♪ [ Shuddering ] -Miss Rogers insisted on leaving this.

I tried to... ♪♪ -Thank you.

♪♪ -You'll find a way through.

-I'm not sure that I will.

-Shall I type the manuscript?

Seeing it printed always helps you.

-No, not this time.

-A read-through, perhaps?

A field trip?

-[ Sighs ] -I'll do anything to help.

-I know, and I'm very grateful.

But I think I need to see a professional.

-Mrs. Christie?

Sir Hugh will see you now.

-Thank you.

-Mrs. Christie.

I am flattered you should turn to me for research purposes.

So many writers ride roughshod over their source material.

-I'm very keen to understand the emotional dynamics of course design.

-You mean... -Thank you.

-How one would go about murdering someone on a golf course.

-No, what makes one enjoy playing a round of golf?

-As an alibi?

How could one be playing golf, but not playing golf.

-No, this has nothing to do with my writing.

I want to design a golf course.

-I see.

Really?

-Yes.

-Well, in that case, I'm afraid my answer's quite short.

You can't.

-Excuse me?

-There isn't a golf club I know that would commission a design from a woman.

I understand there has been a trend of late for ladies to golf.

But really, the sheer complexity of a designer's task is beyond the capabilities of a woman, no matter how capable that woman is.

-Oh, I see.

I hadn't realized.

But thinking about it, how could I have been so stupid?

[ Chuckles ] Imagine a woman being able to design the preamble to putting something small in a hole.

A woman might just present the hole and have done.

And where would be the fun in that?

There'd be nothing to groom, for a start.

But thank you for your time.

It's been pointless.

[ Footsteps approaching ] -Mummy, will you play hide and seek?

-Yes, dear.

-What are you doing?

-Working.

-That's not work.

-Where's Carlo?

-She's hiding.

-Shouldn't you find her?

-How long will she hide for?

-I imagine until you find her.

-But what if I don't find her?

-She'll starve.

-Really?

Carlo!

-[ Chuckles ] [ Sighs ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ Rosalind?

I'm coming.

Ready or not!

♪♪ "And who is to blame for all this?

Nobody is to blame except the robots.

No, we are to blame, for our own selfish ends for profit, for progress.

We have destroyed mankind."

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ Miss Rogers.

-Thank you.

You don't know how much this means -- come in.

-I haven't done anything yet.

-But you're here.

You're going to help.

-I have some questions.

-Oh, of course, anything.

Come through.

♪♪ I think her cousin killed her.

He's called Randolph.

He inherited the trust fund.

At first, I thought it might be her brother, but he was in America at the time.

He took back the pendant Florence gave me.

Randolph hates me.

Florence says so in her diaries.

I'll show you.

-You have her diaries?

-Of course.

He'd never even met me.

Um... Zaki Hannachi, one of Florence's waifs and strays.

He came to see her two weeks before she was murdered.

He wouldn't leave her alone.

He wanted money, I'm sure.

-Florence had money?

-Oh, yes.

The police thought it was a robbery gone wrong.

There was a boxer, yeah, but really he's a thief.

Travis Pickford.

A nasty piece of work.

He was arrested, but they said he didn't do it.

His gun was covered in blood.

And then there's the nurse... Daphne.

Florence's report would have seen her barred from nursing.

That boy would have died.

It has to be one of them, I just don't know which one.

-Mabel.

-Yes.

-Is that Florence?

-Yes.

Yes, it is.

[ Mabel crying softly ] Look, I -- I know how this must look.

You were right, what you said when I came to see you -- this is a fantasy.

But you've got to believe me -- Florence wasn't killed by a stranger.

She was murdered for a reason.

♪♪ -Let's start at the beginning.

♪♪ [ Whistle blows ] ♪♪ -Florence always took a corner seat in the last carriage facing forwards.

She didn't like trains.

A friend of hers died in Italy, suffocated in a tunnel.

Bad coal, I think.

The day she was attacked, I found her a seat in the compartment next door, but a woman told us it was taken, so we came in here.

-What woman?

-I don't remember.

-And the man in the brown suit?

-He got on just before the train left.

But I don't remember his face.

The police were convinced he was the killer.

If only I could give them a description.

-You're sure it was a man?

-Yes.

I mean, he looked like a man.

-Did Florence recognize him?

-I can't remember.

-You must try.

Murdering someone is easier if you know their routine.

Who knew about Florence's train habits?

-Oh, everyone.

I mean, she wasn't embarrassed about her fears.

She'd always make a point of explaining it.

Florence didn't believe in pretending to be something she wasn't.

[ Whooshing ] -This is the tunnel where it happened.

-That's what the police thought.

-Seems harder to kill someone when you can't see them very well.

-It took her four days to die.

Bits of skull stuck in her brain.

Everyone saying it was all right, that she didn't feel anything.

But I'd seen it too many times before with the soldiers.

The mind finds a way through.

♪♪ She knew that she was broken, she knew that she was dying... but she also knew that I was there.

And that I loved her.

♪♪ -How long were you together?

-Twenty-six years.

-That's 15 more than Archie and I.

♪♪ I'm very sorry.

[ Train whistle blows ] -This is where the person in her carriage got off.

-The man in the brown suit?

-Yes, but witnesses described someone else.

Heavier built and different clothes.

-And the man you saw getting in the compartment with Florence had nothing with him.

He couldn't have been concealing a disguise?

-It was a cold day, but he had no coat or bag.

I remember that.

-So, one man got in the compartment with Florence and another man got out.

-Yes, that's right.

Impossible.

-Who was Florence visiting?

-Mrs. Pamela Rose.

Her son James died in France and Florence tended to him.

-What happened?

-Ah, he was shot after Armistice by some madman who should've been in front of a firing squad.

-Could she have blamed Florence for not saving him?

-Oh, no, he was dying by the time he got to Florence.

All she could do was make him comfortable.

-Have you met Mrs. Rose?

-This would've been their first meeting.

She'd only just discovered that Florence had helped her son.

She wanted to hear about his last few days.

-So she knew the train Florence was on.

-Oh, she was to collect her from the station.

But you can't think -- -She's a suspect.

Same is true for anyone who knew what train she was on.

-So, that makes five.

Well, unless you count me.

[ Light chuckle ] ♪♪ ♪♪ [ Door opens ] -Don't worry, I'm not going to berate you.

I think it's time for a truce.

-You do?

[ Classical music playing ] -This is a course I'd like to play.

Where did you get this?

-I made it.

-Bollocks!

You hate golf.

-I hate playing it.

-I don't understand.

-I enjoyed the challenge.

-You made this for me.

-No, I didn't.

-You're a terrible liar.

But look, I was supposed to be going to a Suicide Club reunion.

Why don't I forego an evening of exaggerated flying heroics and stay here?

We can look at this together.

I've already seen a couple of small improvements.

With a bit of work, we could make this something special.

-You really like it?

-Yes, it's fabulous.

-That means a lot.

♪♪ ♪♪ But I really must be getting back to my work.

♪♪ ♪♪ [ Door opens and closes ] [ Bell dings ] -Anything else, Mrs. Christie?

-No, thank you, that's lovely.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -I haven't seen Florence in years.

How is she?

-She died, I'm afraid.

-Oh, that's terrible.

I'm surprised Mr. and Mrs. Williams didn't tell me about it.

Then again, maybe they did.

My memory's not what it was.

-I'm borrowing the house for a sort of memorial.

They were very fond of Florence.

-Florence was the only good person that I ever met.

-Mm.

-It's been a while since the family have been in the country.

I'm afraid I'm finding it harder to keep on top of it.

-Hmm.

-I hope your guests don't mind a bit of mess.

-No.

-Oh, dear.

I must have forgotten to get this cleared.

Don't you worry, miss, I'll get right on it.

-You won't forget to collect our guests from the station.

-All the important things gets written down.

Ah!

[ Blows ] ♪♪ [ Classical music playing ] ♪♪ -Rosalind, dear.

Rosalind?

I'm going away for a little bit.

I need to solve a murder.

I have to pretend to be someone else.

-What color is a bunker?

-Yellow.

Carlo will take you to see your father.

-Will Nancy be there?

-I expect so.

-Nancy's pretty.

-My great-aunt told me it's better to be pretty than clever.

-Was she pretty?

-She was clever.

-Can I meet her?

-She died.

Long time ago.

-It's better to be alive, than dead.

-That's right.

-Do you have a disguise, can I see it?

-When I get back.

♪♪ -Are you going somewhere?

♪♪ When I finish this, I'm going to draw a picture of me so you always know where I am.

♪♪ -Here you go, Mrs. Westmacott.

-Thank you.

-Is there anything else?

Some stamps perhaps?

-Is it true there's a writer of detective novels who lives nearby?

-Yes, Mrs. Christie.

She's famous.

-Are her novels any good?

-Not as good as Stevenson, but better than Conan Doyle.

-Thank you.

♪♪ ♪♪ -Florence here will look after ya.

-I was beginning to think you changed your mind.

-What a terrible journey!

My car broke, the train got stuck.

I spent last night in what I think was a brothel.

Are they here?

-Yes, and they started to talk to one another.

I'm terrified they'll make a connection.

-Then we'd better get to it.

Any surprises?

-Miss Miller has brought her father with her, or should I say, he's decided to come.

I don't think his motivation is paternal.

Mrs. Rose is with her son Franklin.

I get the impression he's not completely taken in by our lies.

Mr. Hannachi is so nervous, I'm wondering if it's an act.

And Mr. Pickford looks capable of, oh, just about anything.

-Any other surprises?

-Their luggage is missing.

Oh, and... -What?

What is it?

[ Gasps ] Oh, God!

I'm not missing, I've only been gone 48 hours!

We'll have to try and keep our suspects away from the newspapers.

-At least there isn't a picture.

[ Footsteps approaching ] -Mrs. Westmacott.

Assuming you are Mrs. Westmacott.

-Yes, that's correct.

I must apologize for the delay.

I'm sure you all have a lot of questions.

-Why are we being kept in the dark?

-Are you the secretary?

-When do we get our money?

-Who's in charge?

-Where's the lawyer?

-Good morning.

My name is Mary Westmacott.

I am the representative of Messrs. Kant Hope Delaney.

-We thought you might want to change that to "Can't Help Delay Me."

[ Laughing ] -Firstly, I would like to reinforce what was stated in the letters you were sent.

No one is under any compulsion to stay.

Our firm has no legal power or responsibility other than that conferred on us as executors of Mr. Dower's will.

Mr. Dower's legacy is valued at £186,000.

This total, minus our fees, is to be distributed proportionately amongst you, his relatives.

Tracing Mr. Dower's bloodline has been very difficult.

The purpose of calling you here is twofold: To check our findings regarding your lineage and to satisfy a couple of specific conditions of the will.

-We weren't told about any conditions.

-No, these are matters to be discussed privately.

There is a good deal of work to be done and I have no wish to increase your fees through wasted time.

If anyone is unhappy with these arrangements, or feels they no longer wish to engage in this process, now is the time to let me know.

Given my late arrival, I won't start formal interviews until the morning.

Prior to that, are there any questions which require an immediate answer?

Yes?

-Do you know where my suitcase is?

-No, Mr. Hannachi.

Luggage is not my responsibility.

♪♪ ♪♪ [ Blows ] -It's like Christmas with the family.

Only without anything to drink.

And trapped in a festive morgue.

-You know what, you're absolutely right.

We are family.

We're related.

-Yeah, well, go back far enough, I'm related to the king.

-Hmm.

-Or a shoe shiner.

♪♪ -Mr. Hannachi, would I be right in thinking you served in the war?

-How did you know?

-My other son fought at Verdun.

Are you Algerian?

Or perhaps Moroccan?

-I'm French.

Born in Constantine.

-Ah.

Your English is excellent.

-I was a translator.

-As I remember it, a howitzer sounds the same in English as in French.

[ Both chuckle ] -You fought?

-No.

I was a chaplain.

-Ha!

I knew it.

You know, I had the feeling we were in the presence of God ever since I got here.

-How funny to think we're all related.

I hardly know anyone on my mother's side.

When she died, there was just her half-sister.

Imagine all this family I never knew I had.

How did you track us all down?

-It was done by a specialist firm.

-With a pen and a telephone book, by the looks of it.

-Do feel free to take your leave.

A quarter share is preferable.

-My daughter will get hers.

-Your letter stated that Mr. Dower spent most of his life in America.

What was his line of work?

-He sold cars.

-All that money from cars?

I'm in the wrong business.

-What's your business, Mr. Pickford?

-Removals.

A little like you, Reverend.

-I no longer serve.

-God or country?

-Both.

-Shame.

I could've used your help.

-What happened to change your mind?

-I stopped believing in either.

-Surely you don't mean that?

-What did you do during the war?

-Administration.

-Mm-hmm.

You never saw the trenches?

-I read a great deal concerning them.

-A million crimes, enabled by my country... unpunished by my God.

-Any sign of our trunks?

-Yes, sir, I'm afraid they went back to the station, but they'll be with you again in the morning.

-Well, I suppose I should thank God for that.

-What time do the interviews start in the morning?

-10:00 a.m. Perhaps you and your daughter would like to go first?

-Yes.

How much of our inheritance is locked in this pile?

-None of it.

Mr. Dower's gift to his relatives is a cash asset.

-Yeah, good job, too -- this castle's built of paper.

I spent last night listening to the Frenchman snore.

-So, we're not inheriting the whole estate.

-No, uh, the bulk of it is being handled by Mr. Dower's American representatives.

-I thought that might be the case.

There's a great deal more at stake here than a couple of hundred thousand, isn't there?

When all said and done, we might be due a bigger share.

A much bigger share.

-We're safe.

They're in their rooms.

-Oh, that greedy bastard.

He's already got the trust he inherited from Florence.

Imagine being offered all that money and his first thought is to want more.

-It doesn't make him a killer.

-He's watching us.

-I know.

-He's no fool.

-Money makes most people foolish.

-Wade's a bastard, too.

-Mr. Hannachi certainly thinks so.

-Oh, his poor daughter.

Imagine living with such a brute.

-His poor daughter is one of our suspects.

-Pamela seems nice.

Maybe she did it.

How are you going to conduct the interviews?

-By keeping their minds on the inheritance.

What did you find in their luggage?

-Mm, come with me.

♪♪ So, Wade has a cleaning kit for a pistol, but no pistol.

Daphne has enough makeup to put on a show.

Pamela and Franklin's cases are unremarkable.

Couple of books, copy of the Bible.

Zaki's case has a few clothes and, um, tin of coffee.

Travis has a doctor's case, which is empty.

And, um... -And Randolph?

-Smut... and not the artistic kind.

-Could Florence really have ended Daphne's career?

-Oh, yes.

Her report would have seen Daphne barred from nursing.

-But she was killed before she could write it.

-Oh, that girl is scared of her own shadow.

Imagine Daphne killing in cold blood?

♪♪ [ Bird caws ] -Will this take long?

-I hope not.

[ Clears throat ] Your mother's maiden name was Stone?

She died on June 24, 1922?

-You already know that.

-You have the death certificate?

-Everything is exactly as stated in my daughter's letter.

-Your mother's father, Joshua Stone, lived in Richmond.

Her grandfather, William Stone, died in Aberdeen.

-I don't see how this has got anything -- -The man found in our searches was James Stone, not William Stone -- it's a different person.

-Well, clearly there's been a mistake.

William was probably a middle name.

-It was definitely William.

My mother used to tell me stories about him.

He was a cavalry trooper, he fought at Waterloo.

-Well, you can't take my wife's word for it.

She was a drunk.

If I remember correctly, his name was James William Stone.

Yes, that's it.

-Well, that would be unfortunate.

-Why?

-Because I've discovered a mistake.

James Stone was the half-brother of Mr. Dower's great uncle, Andrew Dower.

William Stone was a second cousin.

If Daphne is correct and her great-grandfather is William Stone, she is the only surviving direct descendant of Mr. Dower.

I'll have to check no similar mistake has been made in regards his other relatives, but if I'm right, Daphne would inherit the majority of Mr. Dower's estate, with a much smaller proportion going to his other antecedents.

-Daphne's bound to be right.

She always is.

I'm no good with these things -- once removed, twice removed, it's all Greek to me.

-However, before we can progress, there's something I need to establish.

-Of course, anything.

-You finished your nurse's training in February 1920?

-Yes.

-Shortly after completing it, you went in front of the regional superintendent.

They were looking into a complaint serious enough to have you removed as a Queen's Nurse.

-What in God's name has that got to do with this?

-As I said yesterday, there are certain conditions of the will that must be met.

-She was exonerated.

No evidence against her.

Just unfounded allegations by a bulldagger who got what she deserved.

♪♪ Look, I don't mean to fly off the handle, it's just...

It was a very unpleasant time for my daughter.

That woman almost wrecked her life.

-Miss Miller?

-I was cleared.

-And the allegations were incorrect?

-Yes.

-Then I have everything I need to proceed.

I'll explain the situation to the others.

-Thank you.

Come along, darling.

-Is there something else?

-There's a line of people outside who'll be none too pleased about the turn of events.

Let's not waste any more of their time.

-Mrs. Westmacott, who do you want to talk to next?

-I'm afraid there's been a change of circumstances.

-What does that mean?

And why are you grinning like a Cheshire Cat?

-What has that man got to be so happy about?

As I understand it, he's not even a relative.

-Not of yours, thank God.

But related where it counts.

-What's he talking about?

-You told them most of the money is going to Daphne?

Won't they just leave?

-They were angry, but some money is better than no money.

-But I don't understand -- I mean, why take such a risk?

-Because Wade killed Florence.

♪♪ -You think he killed her to save his daughter's career?

But there's no evidence.

-We'll find it.

It's ironic -- I can't write at the moment because I'm so worried about always making my murderer the most unlikely suspect.

Talk about unlikely!

Wade wasn't even supposed to be here!

-But there's no connection to any other aspect of the murder.

-We just need to keep digging.

There must be something here that links him to the crime.

See if you can find it.

I'm going to talk to him again.

He'll help us if he thinks it's going to make him rich.

-What if you're wrong?

-I'm not... but we have to find the proof before we can set a trap.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Are you looking for someone?

-Mr. Miller.

-Last I saw he was on the terrace.

Who represents Mr. Dower in the United States?

[ Thud ] Is that a gunshot?

-Gunshots don't sound like that.

-Travis probably found some champagne.

-I'm afraid I have some rather pressing business.

[ Thudding, glass shatters ] ♪♪ It's Wade.

-Someone tried to kill Daphne.

♪♪ ♪♪ -How?

-Daphne said she was in her room, the door opened, and a pistol was pointed at her.

Wade jumped in front of the bullet, stumbled backwards and fell through the window.

Turns out that deeply unpleasant man was a bit of a hero.

♪♪ -Has anyone checked for signs of life?

♪♪ -He looks like all the other dead people I've seen.

-Are you a nurse?

-Oh no, I -- I used to work in a hospital.

You're right, he's dead...

I think.

-It must have been a big gun.

-I'll call the police.

-Where's Travis?

I wouldn't put it past him to kill someone for a bigger share of the pot.

-Mabel, when you get back, could you help Daphne?

She has a nasty cut from the glass.

-Yeah... -The poor man was trying to get dressed.

[ Door opens ] -A bit of food will do you good.

Believe me, I know.

-Thank you.

I couldn't bear to be on my own.

-Never talk to the police on an empty stomach.

-Is that so?

-Not really.

Never talk to the police, full stop.

You take that woman writer that's topped herself.

If everyone in her books had kept their mouths shut, that Poirot couldn't catch a cold.

-You mean Agatha Christie.

-Golden rule, like my cousin says.

-Says what?

-Keep your -- mouth shut!

-She's a very good writer.

-But rather predictable.

I read, "The Murder of Peter Ackroyd," guessed the end within a few pages.

It's easy when you know how.

-Roger.

-Excuse me?

-Roger Ackroyd.

-[ Scoffs ] I'm pretty sure it was Peter.

-So, how are we gonna guess who knocked off Wade?

No offense, but none of you lot look like the killing type.

-That's how it is in her books.

The last person you'd ever suspect.

If Mrs. Christie were writing this, Mrs. Westmacott would be guilty.

-More like that caretaker, Mr. Todd.

The police can talk to him all they like, he'll have forgotten he did it.

[ Laughs ] -Murder isn't like a detective novel.

-Of course.

-Sorry.

-Your father was a brave man.

-He had his faults.

But after my mother died, he came home to look after me.

-He was abroad?

-In New York.

He left in June '16.

I didn't see him for six years.

So many of my friends lost their fathers in the war.

I suppose I should be grateful for the years that I had.

♪♪ -Someone tried to kill Miss Miller.

Until the police get here, I will keep watch outside her room.

-Oh!

Very brave.

Are you sure you're French?

-That's very kind, Mr. Hannachi.

Our room is next door.

Franklin and I will be sure to look after you.

It will be reassuring to have a man who served keep watch.

-I served my country.

I served them sugar, meat, cigarettes.

Much more of a service than donating my bollocks to French agriculture.

[ Knocking on door ] -The police will be here shortly.

I've been asked to request that no one leaves.

-Even if I did kill him...

I'm not leaving till I get my money.

♪♪ -I said I was cleaning, we don't have long.

-It couldn't have been Wade.

He was in New York.

We got an innocent man killed.

-I don't think he was innocent.

-Well, that's hardly the point.

They were our lies.

-But someone else's bullet!

-Does it make any difference?

-I know what it's like to kill by proxy.

This isn't it.

But during the war, Florence and I worked at the clearing stations.

It's where the wounded are assessed.

Who can wait, who is critical, who it was pointless to help.

I was good at it.

I never dwelled on the hundreds of people I sent to die.

Florence wanted to save everyone.

-She was a remarkable woman, wasn't she?

-Mm.

Towards the end of the war, a German called Keller came in with a treatable wound.

I was told he'd done something awful and should be left to rot.

When Florence found out, she threatened to contact headquarters and then treated him herself.

She was better than me.

-We can't give up.

-[ Sighs ] The police are coming, they'll see through this charade in a few hours.

-Then we don't have long.

I was wrong about Wade, but that doesn't mean we're wrong about everything.

I was thinking about my writing, not the evidence.

-What evidence?

-We've got to continue the interviews.

Whilst they still believe in the inheritance, we've still got a chance.

-How?

-I think I know who killed Wade.

-Who?

-I'm not making the same mistake twice, but if I'm right about Wade, Florence's killer can be found in the same way.

We can still solve this.

[ Knocking on door ] -What are you doing?

-I had some work for Miss Rogers, what are you doing?

-The police are here.

-So you all received the same invitation from Mrs. Westmacott?

-Yes, she's the one in the glasses.

-And you all arrived at the house at the same time?

-Yes, we did.

-Now that you're all here, I will introduce myself.

My name is Detective Inspector Dicks, this is PC Spencer.

I'd rather not shout.

As you may know, the author Agatha Christie has gone missing.

There are currently 5,000 police personnel searching for her.

And as a consequence, my usual complement of 13 officers is running at three, myself and PC Spencer included.

So because of Mrs. Christie, I do not have enough officers to take you to the station, so I'm forced to question you here.

We'll start with your personal details.

These will be thoroughly checked.

Any false information will get you arrested, which, to be honest, will make my job a little easier.

Accommodating you in the cells is not a problem.

Although I would rather be here than searching for authors in bushes, I do not like working with one hand tied behind my back.

This process will take some time... but please do not keep asking me how long.

The more annoying you are, the more of a bastard I'll be.

And please, do not even think of asking to leave.

Now, Mrs. Westmacott, I've been told that you're the person responsible for bringing everybody here, so I'll start with you.

If you could follow me, please.

Now, if you don't mind.

-Name?

-Mary Westmacott.

-Date of birth?

-September 1st, 1890.

-Occupation?

-Legal representative.

-Employer?

-Kant Hope Delaney, 6 York Street, W1.

-Telephone number?

-Mine or theirs?

-What would be the point in having your number?

I'm trying to verify this ridiculous story I've just been told.

-Are you always this rude?

-Yeah.

-I'm fully aware of my rights.

-Well, that makes one of us.

Are you going to answer the question?

-My office number is London 7734, the secretary's name is Miss Fisher.

She'll confirm everything.

-That'll do.

-Am I allowed to continue my work?

-Does your work involve undermining my investigation?

-Of course not.

-Then do what you like.

-Thank you.

I will.

♪♪ -[ Sighs ] ♪♪ -[ Sighs ] DI Dicks, what a charmer.

I do hope you're gonna be a bit more gentle.

-Do you have the documents?

-A lawyer goes to the dentist.

When he comes around from the ether, it's dark.

He asks the nurse, "What's going on?"

She says, "There was a fire across the road, so we drew the blinds.

Didn't want you to wake up and think you'd died."

-[ Chuckles ] That's very good.

-Ah, maybe you're not such a scratch after all.

-You were arrested for murder in January 1920, is that true?

♪♪ You don't have to answer my questions, but it means I can't do my job, which means you won't get your money.

-I don't know what you're talking about.

-A nurse called Florence.

She was beaten to death -- it was a highly publicized case.

-You've made a mistake.

♪♪ -"No benefit of any kind can be transferred to an individual charged with a capital offense."

♪♪ -Well, in that case, there's no problem.

-I was never charged.

-But you were arrested.

-Sure... they tried to pin it on me.

-But you just said you didn't know anything about it.

-Well, what do you expect?

-I expect to be told the truth.

As well as the requirements to confirm identity, Mr. Dower gave his executors a discretionary power with regards to the moral suitability of his heirs.

-I'm suitable -- just careful.

-But now I don't know if you are who you say you are.

-You've got my papers.

-Papers can be forged.

Given the sums of money involved, I'm sure you can appreciate the need for thoroughness.

-Fair enough.

Does your firm have any dealings with Scotland Yard?

-Of course.

-Ask them why they let me off.

-For what purpose?

-They'll tell you something they never told the papers.

The killer left a footprint in the blood.

-And?

-And there's no way I could know this if I wasn't arrested.

Took me all of five seconds to point out me feet were three sizes too big.

They even tried to squeeze me into an old trench boot, like I was -- Cinderella.

-A trench boot?

-Yeah, another thing they never told the public.

It doesn't look good when our boys come home and start murdering civilians.

♪♪ So...

I guess that means I've passed.

-I'll need to confirm this.

-Mm, confirm away.

The longer we wait, the more chance another member of my family has an accident.

♪♪ -Say what you like about the Germans, they know how to make coffee.

-Thank you.

-That's the first time I've heard a Frenchman compliment a German.

-After you got over the fact they were trying to kill you, most of them are pretty decent, in my experience.

-Your experience doesn't amount to much.

-I lied before.

I'm not really French.

-No, you're a bloody traitor.

-Come now, dear, we all have different experiences.

-Clearly.

-I did not mean to offend.

-Mr. Hannachi, could we speak in private?

-I have nothing to hide.

-No, but some of the details of your case are personal.

-It does not take a great detective to work out my connection to Mr. Dower is illegitimate.

-Unfortunately, my notes are upstairs.

-Okay, I'll come... but only if Miss Miller promises to stay here.

-I promise.

-Don't say another word!

She is a fraud!

Her and that sorry excuse for a maid.

We've been set up.

-There's no inheritance?

-That's the least of it.

This whole charade is... -A murder investigation.

-Oh, God help me.

-You admit it?

-Of course I do.

I'm amazed it took you so long to work it out.

I'm a private detective hired by Miss Rogers.

You are all suspects in the murder of Florence Nightingale Shore.

-Florence?

But... -How dare you?

My beautiful cousin.

What possible reason could I have for killing her?

-The same reason that brought you here... money.

-Well!

I suppose that makes sense of things.

-No, it doesn't.

What has this got to do with me?

-She was killed by someone wearing service boots.

-That's ridiculous.

Florence was the only nurse who looked after us bougnoules.

She didn't care who we were or what we'd done.

She was perfect, I would never -- -You killed her.

-Now then, murderer or not, Mr. Hannachi is right about one thing -- this is ridiculous and a monumental waste of my time.

Spencer.

I've already got one murder to deal with, I couldn't give a rat's ass about another one.

When this bloody author is found, I'm taking you all in.

In the meantime, you'll stay in your rooms.

Anyone ignoring this will be considered a suspect and arrested.

-That is completely unacceptable.

My mother and I have nothing to do with this absurd game.

Daphne can attest to our whereabouts when Wade was killed, and we never met that bloody nurse.

I insist that we be allowed to leave.

-I'm happy to put you in handcuffs right now if that's what you want.

-Look at it from the inspector's point of view.

-This is an intolerable situation.

-Well, we can agree on that.

-The maid and Mr. Pickford are missing.

-Oh... Travis and the fake maid, Miss Rogers, have gone missing.

PC Spencer will escort you to your room, whilst I will amuse myself playing hide and seek.

I advise you to use your confinement wisely.

If any of you has any information about the only murder that I'm interested in, do yourself a favor and come forward.

Now is a good time to remember that there is a difference between a cell and the gallows.

♪♪ -Right.

♪♪ ♪♪ -Are you really trying to find Florence's killer?

[ Sighs ] I'm sorry I got so heated.

It was a great shock seeing... material.

I was never shown the pictures of... what was done to her.

[ Sighs ] How well do you know Mabel?

♪♪ I bet she told you how awful I was, how the family hated her relationship with Florence.

Truth is, I couldn't care less that my cousin preferred women.

I just didn't like the fact that the woman she preferred was such a controlling, malign influence.

-You have strong feelings for a woman you never met.

-Because Mabel always refused.

It was easier to keep her distance and pour poison into my cousin's ear.

For all her experience, Florence was very naive.

She had strong convictions, but was blind to manipulation.

You didn't know her.

♪♪ Mabel hates me because she was always jealous of anyone Florence cared for.

-Keep up.

♪♪ Do you know what always struck me about Florence's murder?

The police never questioned the last person to see her alive.

Mabel Rogers.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -PC Spencer?

Mr. Pickford is in the garden talking to Mr. Todd.

♪♪ -I can see Mr. Todd, but not Mr. Pickford.

-It was only a minute ago.

I'm sure Mr. Todd can tell you where he's gone.

Or should we wait for Inspector Dicks?

-You'd better not be lying.

-Why are you out of your room?

-I could ask you the same thing.

What are you doing?

-What does it look like?

I'm crying.

-Is there something I can do to help?

-Find me somewhere to sleep where my father wasn't killed.

-You lied about your job, didn't you?

-Leave me alone.

-You almost killed a young boy, then Florence was murdered and your career was saved.

-What's wrong with you?

-It's good motive for murder.

-I couldn't murder anyone!

I'm weak and I'm stupid.

I'm a pathetic little girl.

Zaki was right.

Florence was better than all of us.

That maid is responsible for all of this.

She deserves everything she gets.

And so do you.

[ Door slams ] [ Thudding ] -I didn't do it.

-What are you doing in there?

-Hiding.

-From whom?

-The police.

-Where did you get that?

-I found it under my pillow.

-Is it loaded?

-Yes.

-Well, for God's sake, unload it!

-The soldiers used to love showing me their guns.

-Where have you been?

-I saw Randolph with a folder.

I panicked and hid in here, then someone came into the room.

And when they'd gone, I found this.

I'm being set up.

-It seems so.

-But by whom?

-Daphne.

She killed her father.

-Why?

-He beat her, she broke.

-The belt.

Oh, the makeup.

-His work will be under it.

-She was terrified of him.

So this is Wade's gun?

-Yes.

-But why blame me?

-The person who benefits most from your arrest is Florence's killer.

-But surely Daphne didn't kill Florence.

It doesn't make sense.

-It does.

We're just missing something.

I need Florence's diaries.

Did Randolph take them?

-Um... No.

[ Agatha gasps ] I've looked through them a hundred times.

♪♪ -Keller.

That's it!

He killed Florence!

-[ Gasps] [ Gun cocks ] -This isn't what it looks like.

-Well, that's good, because what it looks like is a murder suspect pointin' a gun at two police officers.

-It's not loaded.

Don't worry, you haven't done anything wrong.

Everything will be all right.

-Get her to the station.

And bring some bloody help.

You couldn't make it up.

-I -- I can explain.

-No, I mean it.

-So do I.

-No, you couldn't make it up, could you, Mrs. Christie?

-How did you know?

-I spoke to Miss Fisher.

Oh, she was very convincing.

The name rang a bell, Carlo Fisher, interviewed in connection with the disappearance of Mrs. Christie.

And your disguise, I mean...

It's good, but it's not that good.

Do you know they've had aircraft out looking for you?

Parliament practically demanded it.

-Parliament?

-You've no idea, have you?

-No.

-If it was up to me, I'd make you pay for it.

I'll have you writing till the end of your days to settle the account.

I know policemen don't get paid much, but 5,000 of us soon adds up.

I don't even know what to charge you with.

A £10 fine for wasting police time hardly seems to cover it.

-Daphne killed her father.

-Well, I'll give you that.

-You knew?

-Well, of course.

She was the only one in the room when he got shot.

It don't take Sherlock Holmes to work out she was the most likely.

Speaking of which, there's another person you need to make reparations to.

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle held a seance to try and track you down.

He used one of your gloves, apparently.

-[ Sighs ] Was the cut to her hand from the recoil?

-Probably.

A gun this size shouldn't be shot from the hip.

-She killed him because of what he did to her.

-That's a defense.

The jury will understand, if she'll talk.

But I doubt she will.

-If I was right about Daphne, don't you think I might be right about the other murder?

-No.

No more playing detective.

-Don't you want to know what's going on?

-That's why I arrested Miss Rogers.

-Have you ever been obsessed with something, Inspector?

-Just the law, Mrs. Christie.

-A while ago, I realized that's what I write about, obsession.

The inability to clear something from one's mind.

-I'm not in the mood for philosophizing.

-There's no philosophy in obsession, just feeling, usually pain.

-I mean it, let's go.

-Mabel is obsessed with finding the killer of the person she loved.

I dare say she's been obsessed with Florence since the day they met.

That's what it's like, in my experience.

My husband is leaving me.

He's been having an affair with a 24-year-old.

They consummated their relationship on a golf course.

But I didn't come here to escape him.

If I could, I'd spend every minute by his side.

I recognized that obsession in Mabel.

I came here to help the both of us.

♪♪ -When I came back from the war... my wife gave me the clap.

♪♪ In my experience, obsession is like getting caught in no-man's land.

You'd get out if you could, but you don't know where the bullets are coming from.

So you're better off sitting in the shell hole and covering your ears.

You never know, you might get lucky.

♪♪ Do you really know who killed Florence?

-I have a plan.

But I need your help.

♪♪ -Well...

This is the first time I've eaten with a pig.

No offense.

-This is the first time I've eaten with a group of people who've gotten together under false pretenses with the promise of an inheritance.

-[ Laughing ] -When can we leave?

-When PC Spencer gets back, he'll start ferrying you to the station.

A short statement, then you're none of my concern.

Unless, of course, your impatience is the sign of a guilty conscience.

Don't worry.

I have my killer.

-I still do not understand why Miss Rogers tried to murder Daphne.

-Well, I wouldn't normally discuss a case, but under the circumstances.

Miss Rogers thought that Miss Miller had killed her friend, Florence.

This whole debacle is an elaborate act of revenge.

-Unbelievable.

-What is it they say about revenge?

Dig two graves.

-She'll hang for sure.

-I want to apologize.

When I take jobs, I tend not to think about the consequences.

-In my experience, the greatest harm is done by people who pursue a course of action despite being told of the damage it will do.

-When I was in Verdun -- -Oh, not the bloody war again.

-[ Clears throat ] Here's to the families that never was.

[ Randolph and Pamela chuckle ] -Where's Daphne?

-She's not feeling very well.

She said she was going to stay in her room.

-I'll check on her, given what I've put that poor girl through.

-For the record...

I think you should look again at the murder of my cousin.

It's quite possible this Rogers woman is some sort of homicidal maniac.

-Yes, it's true.

Some people do get a taste for murder.

[ Door opens, closes ] -Inspector Dicks said you'd be coming to see me.

What's going on?

Pamela said Miss Rogers has been arrested.

-Yes.

She was found with the gun you used to kill your father.

-[ Sobbing ] -I can't imagine what you've been through.

-I should have used that gun on myself.

-All that matters now is that we find the people who blackmailed you to frame Mabel.

None of this is your fault.

Did your father leave England to escape conscription?

-He beat my mother and I our whole life.

And then he ran away from the fight.

-If you tell the truth, they'll understand.

-The truth is...

I wish I'd shot that bastard years ago.

I killed him.

-I know.

But you didn't plan it.

You're not a murderer.

We'll help you.

-Someone else knew it was me.

-Yes.

-Why did you say "people"?

♪♪ -How is Daphne?

-As good as can be expected.

Perhaps you might take her something to eat.

-Not very subtle, is he?

-[ Chuckles ] -I still have some of Miss Roger's material.

Given that most of it relates to your cousin, perhaps you would like to take it... assuming the inspector doesn't mind.

-That would be kind.

That awful woman kept so much that was personal to the family.

It would be very gratifying to get it back.

Oh, I wouldn't worry about the inspector.

He has other things on his mind.

He's with Travis, who seems to have forgotten his cousin's golden rule.

-Daphne asked if you would check in on her after dinner.

[ Soft rapping at door ] ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ -Where's Daphne?

We're starting to worry.

-When you beat Florence to death, what did you think about?

I've always wondered.

During the act of murder, is there anything but the act itself?

Does the brain reject what the body is doing?

Or is there gratification?

Did you enjoy it?

Did Florence even understand why you were doing it -- that she was being killed for saving a man's life?

-I don't know what you're talking about.

-Your son James would be alive were it not for Florence.

She saved the man who murdered him, Captain Dieter Keller.

A man everyone told her should be left to die, a monster.

But, as Mr. Hannachi said, Florence helped everyone, regardless of who they were or what they'd done.

-We're leaving.

-Was it you in the compartment next to Florence, making sure she was alone with your son?

-This is as insulting as it is stupid.

-Not as stupid as leaving a bloody footprint at the scene of the crime.

If you'd had the stomach to kill her yourself, I doubt such a mistake would have been made.

You planned everything so carefully.

Florence told you which train she was traveling on, which carriage she'd be in.

You hid a coat and cap underneath the bench seat for Franklin to wear when he escaped.

-If I were you, I'd stop.

-You left evidence in the compartment, evidence the police still have, evidence that will send you and your mother to the gallows.

-A footprint?

There's a million servicemen it could have come from.

-And a million crimes left unpunished.

How did you feel when you found out that Florence wasn't dead?

That despite all your mother's plans, you'd failed?

-[ Sighs ] I didn't want to kill her.

-Franklin!

-I bashed her skull just enough to get her attention.

I wanted her to understand why it was happening.

I explained that her death was the result of her sanctimonious morality.

Then I bashed her skull a bit more.

As an ex-priest, I'm compelled to offer confession and absolution to someone approaching death.

♪♪ But as I told Florence before I beat her into a coma... Not everyone can be saved.

-Oi!

[ Agatha gasping ] [ Gasping ] -Something else I didn't learn in the army.

-We were in the next room.

We heard every word.

Who'd have thought that the walls in this place would be so thin?

But you knew that, didn't you?

-I don't know what you're talking about.

-You and your son listened to what happened to Mr. Miller.

And then you blackmailed Daphne into framing Miss Rogers.

-Really?

-Yes.

And you've implicated yourself in a premeditated murder.

-The only thing that's happened here is a vicious assault on my son.

Whatever you think you've heard, I'd like to know what evidence you have to back up these scandalous accusations.

A murder weapon, perhaps?

Maybe an item of clothing?

I heard something about a pair of bloody boots.

That sounds incriminating.

You have them, I assume?

I didn't think so.

Nothing that was said here can be used in court.

This pathetic attempted entrapment is over.

You failed.

-Pamela Rose... you are under arrest for the murder of Wade Miller.

You do not have to say anything.

But if you do say anything, it will be taken down and may be used in evidence.

-You wouldn't.

♪♪ Zaki?

♪♪ -I saw Mrs. Rose take the gun from Wade's luggage.

-That's a lie.

It was Mabel.

She deserves it, you know that.

♪♪ -Mrs. Rose left this note in Daphne's room.

♪♪ -There's been a horrible misunderstanding.

Whatever they've told you, it isn't true.

-I caught a glimpse of the killer through the door.

It was him.

♪♪ -You can't do this.

-Let me know if his balls don't recover.

I'll say a prayer... or two.

-No!

No!

♪♪ ♪♪ -All right?

♪♪ -Will you be all right?

-I hope so.

♪♪ -I'm sorry... -About Mabel?

-I was wrong about her.

-She surprised you?

-Yes.

-People don't often surprise in a good way.

-No, I suppose not.

Would you do me a favor?

I'd like to ask Mabel to tea.

-Tea?

-That's what he said.

-Her family have spent 20 years pretending I didn't exist.

-Inspector Dicks says if I'm not found in the next 24 hours, they'll call out the army.

-Will you go home?

And what will you say?

-I can't remember.

One minute I was driving my car, the next... -Amnesia?

Really?

It's like something from a bad novel.

-Dicks told me to keep it simple.

He's going to help.

What will you do?

-Finding Florence's killer is all I've thought about for six years.

How do I stop?

-I have no idea.

[ Bell ringing ] -You have your family.

-The police questioned Archie about my disappearance.

They probably think he knocked me off in order to marry Nancy.

-And get an inheritance.

-I'd better change my will.

[ Mabel chuckles] I'll agree to a divorce.

-And I'll stop living my life through Florence's death.

I don't want to.

-Me neither.

-Now then.

Bloody hell, should I put you two on suicide watch?

-We're discussing the future.

-Bad is it?

Worse than being hanged for a crime you didn't commit?

Or being caught up in a scandal so spectacular you'd want to settle down with an arsenic nightcap?

-Knowing that things could be worse is not much comfort in my experience.

-Well, that's true.

Still, be good for your writing.

-Oh, the novel I'm working on is terrible.

It won't help that.

-With the sensation you've caused, you could publish a book on concrete ratios and it would still be a best seller.

Just have to have the right title.

-Make it simple.

-"Murder on the Building Site."

-I don't think my publishers would agree.

-Well, as we're sat here talking, they're busy getting everything together they got, just in case you turn up dead.

-Oh, thanks.

I feel much better.

-Did we do the right thing?

-Well, I am glad I joined this conversation.

-They'll hang.

-They murdered in cold blood, that's what it's for.

-Does it feel like justice?

-Yes, but... Oh, it's a funny kind of justice that's carried out by a group of strangers.

-If she were alive, Florence would be helping strangers.

-You never told me why you suspected Franklin and Pamela in the first place.

-Oh, apart from you, they're the only people who knew which train and carriage Florence was in.

Once I stopped indulging fantasies, they were the most likely suspects.

-Hmm.

-It's a shame the truth of murder doesn't lend itself to detective stories.

I mean, it wouldn't be much good if the person most likely to have done it actually did it.

-No.

That would never work.

Time to go.

-I just got comfy.

Is it something I said?

-No, Inspector.

It's something I thought.

♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ ♪♪ [ Record scratching ] ♪♪ -To order this program on DVD, visit ShopPBS or call 1-800-PLAY-PBS.

Also available on Amazon Prime Video.

♪♪ ♪♪