Miss Marple E02 - The Body in the Library - Part 2 / full episode / Joan Hickson

I haven't been to the seaside for years. And now instead of doing whatever it is one does, here I am, sleuthing like mad, trying to clear my poor husband's name. I mean, it's potty. Look around you. Would anyone think that 24 hours ago a perfectly strange young girl was found dead in our library? And now here I am with you, tracking down suspects at a five-star seaside hotel. Murder of the majestic. Oh, I'm sorry, Jane. What were you thinking? What? Oh, oh, well, perhaps, yes. Ah, well then, I'll be quiet. Jane, what is it? A tube. Yes? Oh, I don't know. I just wondered. It's just a tube. I suppose the key to it all was that eight years of mourning were coming to an end. I've only just realised it. Thanks to you, Annie. To me? Yes, if you hadn't struggled free of me a little this holiday, then I doubt... Oh, dear God. Poor little Ruby. Yes, I'm sorry, Mr Jefferson. We policemen can rarely leave a decent interview. Quite. I want to help, Chief Constable. Very much. What do you want me to tell you? Well, as I understand it, eight years ago in the plane crash you lost not only your wife, but both your children. A son and a daughter. And they each left behind a wife and a husband. Namely, Mrs Jefferson here and Mr Mark Gaskell. Yes, we were very much thrown together, as you might imagine. Mark and Adelaide were very good to me. I sometimes think I owe my will to live to them. I've become more independent, mind you, over the years. Perhaps it was necessary. If you'll excuse me, Colonel, I really ought to find my son, Peter. Yes, of course. I'll see you soon, Geoff. Mr Jefferson, when you announced that you intended to adopt Ruby Keene as your daughter, what was the reaction of Mrs Jefferson and Mark Gaskell? They weren't tremendously pleased, but they took it all right. And was that the reaction that you expected? It was, yes. I didn't expect them to like it. I had made healthy provision for both of them when they married my children. Yes? So I didn't expect them to behave unreasonably. It's my experience that families often do. Oh, but we'd shared a lot. Don't forget. And they had no blood claim on me. True. And when you decided to adopt Ruby Keene, did you also tell them how much you were going to leave her? They're not stupid. They'd have made educated guesses. How much was it, in fact? A hundred thousand. Yes, I suppose that's a motive. But I don't envy you trying to prove either Mark or Adelaide a murderer. I'm sorry not to be more companion in war. Oh, Jane, are you going to tell me or aren't you? I'm sorry? Well, for heaven's sake, who strangled Ruby Keene? And why did they leave her body in our library? Oh, oh, that, yes. Well, isn't that what you've been thinking about? Well, no way. Yes. Of course, it's obvious who might have done it. But, uh, what did I say? There's something missing. Yes. Black's table there. Backup table's here. Let's get on with it. Ah, yes, Mr. Barney. Ruby Keene seemed happy enough to dance with you. I hadn't thought of that. Sort of her job, really, isn't it? I think she was quite, um... I danced quite decently. You finished dancing when? Gosh, sorry. Couldn't say. No idea at all? Sorry. It's a thing in time, isn't it? What did you do after you stopped dancing? Well, you know how it is. Thought I might get lucky, take something for a spin, you know. But then she pushed off. Who did? Ruby, after our last dance. Lake? Yawning like a monkey for most of it, anyway. Then she said she had a headache. I say, was I the last one to see her? I mean, apart from... Where did she go? To her room, she said. What did you do? Do? Oh, see what you mean. Could have been anything, really. What was it, in fact? Drink, probably. Usually drink after waggling a leg. I think I wandered about and stood about outside. Hate it when it's stuffy. Hate it. Of course, that's it. Must have. Because that's when I spotted it. What? Well, I didn't spot it, because it wasn't there. Sorry, but I spotted it had gone. What had? The motor. Your car? Absolutely. Sorry, I reported it with the chaps down at the station at Thingamy Road. I say, you couldn't, could you? I mean, you seem to be a little more intelligent than those chaps down there. It's a Vauxhall Coaster, red, with... Sorry, Mr. Bartley, that was a murder inquiry. Oh, yeah. Sorry. Gone. Yeah. Gone. Sorry. I'm sorry to trouble you again. Not at all. We need to establish... Blake! Sir? Perhaps you'd be so good as to... Hello? Yes, can I help you? Ackroyd? Mrs. Perkins. Now, Miss Turner, we need to establish the actual times, you see, of your cousin's movements. And, of course, the movements of others who are involved. Yes, of course. Now, you said in your previous statement that she did her exhibition dance with Mr. Stark. Yes. That was 10.30. There are thereabouts. She used to look forward to it. Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Ruby Keane! Where have you been, Mark? Sorry. Writing letters. Come on, Mark. Ruby's just starting to dance. Her next appearance was scheduled at midnight. It was just after that that Ray came over to the table. He wasn't pleased. I'm sorry to interrupt. Not at all. As long as you don't change around the cards. As long as you do. Josie, Ruby hasn't turned up. We were supposed to be on again five minutes ago. She was dancing with poor little Richport. George Bartlett hasn't seen her for half an hour. She isn't in her room. I wish she wouldn't do this sort of thing. Excuse me for a moment, will you? I am sorry. But we're supposed to be on now. Yes. But she's your responsibility. Where the hell is she? Bridget, have you seen Ruby? No, shouldn't she be with you? Listen, Ray, we'll have to do a toned-down version ourselves. Right, I'll buzz upstairs and change. You work out a routine with plenty of the slow spectacular. Not too much of the athletic flash. You'll probably put that ankle right back. And you stayed up for her? Till nearly two. Mr Starr persuaded me to go to bed eventually. When did the bridge game actually begin? 10.30. It would have started earlier, but Mr Gaskell had some letters to write. At least, that's what he said. I think it was an excuse, actually. He's not that keen on bridge, I don't reckon. But he was back in time to see Ruby's dance? Yes. And did anyone leave the table before Ruby was reported missing? No. I knew what I was doing. Others will tell you that Ruby amused me. It was more than that. To an extent, of course, she was performing. She was a natural storyteller. She had that from her background. Her parents were both theatricals. What a childhood. Dreadful lodgings. Catching the train on Sundays and not going to church. They had to get to the next touring date, you see. Fascinating to me, this sort of thing. And you know, even the most horrifying anecdotes always ended in laughter. Her laughter, I mean. No complaints, no comments. Just clear-headed amusement. She had a marvellous knowledge of life. And it had left her unsullied. Unsullied? Yes. I want to make that clear. I'm going to sell 100 Whitney Markham. Excuse me. Have you talked to Sir Henry yet? No, sir. Why the hell not? You're a bloody old woman, Edwards. I told you it was urgent. I haven't spoken to Sir Henry, sir, because he was not at home. I did, however, leave a message with his housekeeper who said she could contact him. I have no doubt that he will be here for lunch, as requested. And if you'll excuse me, sir, I shall now go and confirm the arrangements. Edwards! What? Bring me tomorrow. Sir. Thank you, Slack. Thought I should take a look at Ruby Keane's room for myself. Of course, sir. Your prerogative, sir. That was Mrs Jefferson's boy, wasn't it? Did he have anything to say for himself? Oh, he thinks his mother probably did it, aided and abetted by his uncle. Does he now? Chambermaids only do the staff rooms once a week, so nothing was touched. No unaccounted prints. Is this the dress she was wearing for the exhibition dance? Yes, sir. As far as we can tell, she left George Bartlett at half-past eleven, and nobody saw her after that. So, presumably, she came up here, changed out of this into the white dress she was wearing when she was found. Yes, sir. Who occupies the other rooms on this floor? Only Jody Turner opposite. The other rooms are empty. The extra summer staff use them later. So there was no one to see her. The fire escape's hardly lit at night. She could climb down and practically guarantee not to be noticed. Yes. There's only one reason why a girl changes her dress. Right. She was going to meet someone. Here's a good look. Malcolm? How's the world with you? Malcolm's made a discovery, sir. Oh, yes? What? Found a buddy. Now, suppose it was a boyfriend, and he was a bit of a hard case. Exactly the sort of person she'd want to keep dark so as not to foul up her chances with Jefferson. It's hardly surprising. Nobody knew about it. Now, suppose she tells him that Jefferson is going to adopt her. He doesn't like this a bit. Going to take her right out of his class. He's as good as lost her. He probably doesn't mean to kill her, but he's stupid. Doesn't know his own strength. Panics. Rings her neck. Drives around a bit. Hardly knows where he is. Passes Gossington Hall. Big house. Easy to break into. Dumps her there to divert attention and clears off to London. Well, I think it's about the best line we have at the moment. That is the financial motive, of course, but at this stage it looks as if Mrs. Jefferson and Gaskell have a cast-iron alibi. Well, I must be off. Slack. I want you to report to me at the end of each day, whenever you finish, that Banshees are neighbors of mine. Huh? Late! Tell Prescott, that's the manager, that I want to speak to that flash piece of goods who teaches tennis. What's his name? Starr. Reggie, hop down to the tennis courts and ask Mr. Starr to come up. You should be finished by now. There. I'll send Mr. Starr along to the room that we've given you. Thank you, sir. Something I've seen and I don't know what it is. Madam. Oh, I beg your pardon. How can I help you, madam? Oh, I only wish you could. I sometimes feel we have no control over what our eyes decide to see or not to see. Oh, that's it, yes. I should like to buy one of those newspapers. No, no. Compliments of the house, madam. Oh, thank you. Thank you very much. I only knew her as a dancing partner. She seemed a very pleasant girl, a bit dim. What about men? Well, for what it's worth, I always thought of her as very innocent. She spent most of her time with the Jeffersons. I assumed she was missing her family. Did you know that Mr. Jefferson was planning to adopt her legally? Crafty little maid. Not so dim, perhaps? Good morning. My name's Glithering. Would you telephone Mr. Jefferson's room? He is expecting me. Yes, indeed. Say, Mary Glithering. I'll phone his suite now, sir. Thank you. Mary Glithering is downstairs. Mr. Jefferson's suite is on the first floor, sir. His man will meet you at the stairs. Thank you. Do you think Josie Turner knew about the adoption business? I don't know. She usually knew what was in the wind. She's got her head on a Josie. Matter of fact, it seems to me more likely that Josie planned it all than little Ruby sized it up for herself. Why do you think that? Josie was as cross as I was when Ruby didn't turn up for the exhibition dance. I wondered why at the time. It would make sense if Josie had told her to keep her nose clean, wouldn't it? If you could give me just one moment, please, madam. Excuse me, sir. There's a lady outside. I'm busy late. Now, the exhibition dance was about... What's the matter with you? She won't go away, sir. Who is it? I don't know, sir. A Miss Marples. Let her in. This way, please, madam. Thank you. I'm so sorry to interrupt you, Inspector. It's just that it's so important. I thought you ought to know. It's this missing schoolgirl in the newspaper. Yes, madam. What about her? She's... Well, I don't know what she is, but I know that it's important. I'm afraid I'm not putting this very well, but... Oh, why do I keep thinking of Mozart? And the girl. Why do I keep thinking it's too late? Do you know her, Miss Marples? Now, there's another thing. No one seems to know anyone else in this business. This business? Are you suggesting that the missing schoolgirl is in some way connected with the death of Ruby King? Of course. How? Well, I don't know how, but what is being done about this missing schoolgirl? It's not my department, I'm afraid. That would be local. I'm county. If you're really concerned, Miss Marples, I should have a word with the duty staff at Danemouth. That would be the Harold Road station. Do you know it? Oh, dear. Well, it's probably too late anyway. Any clues? You can go. Ruby and I did our 10.30 dance together. I didn't notice what happened to her then. I had my partners to look after. When she hadn't turned up by midnight, I saw George Bartlett. He said that he hadn't seen her since around 11.30. So I went to look for Josie. Sorry to interrupt. Josie, Ruby hasn't turned up. George Bartlett hasn't seen her for half an hour. I wish she wouldn't do this sort of thing. Excuse me. I am sorry. If you can't do this sort of thing, it'll ruin all her chances. She's not with that film bloke, is she? She's changed. She must be with someone, little idiot. Now I'm going to square this with the Jeffersons, God knows. The Jeffersons? Never mind. Come on. Lake Hill? Who do you think Josie Turner meant when she talked about that film bloke? A chap who comes here occasionally. Basil somebody. Where? Got a weekend cottage somewhere around. I suppose that's who she means. Thanks. Excuse me, sir. Well? HQ, sir. They think they've found the schoolgirl. Think? The body's very charred, apparently. She's in a burnt-out car in a disused quarry about five miles from here. Ben's Quarry. The car's a Vauxhall Coaster, sir. Where do the parents live? Westcliffe, sir. You have to admit, it has all the bizarre ingredients of a cheap thriller. Most extraordinary. That really is the most extraordinary story. Arthur Banfrey's place. What do you want me to do? What I would do if I went in this damn chair. Find out who killed the girl? Yes. You're the professional. Long time since I did any detection. Mind you, I suppose now I've retired from the yard, I can nose around a bit without fretting on too many toes. Good. All the same. May I make a suggestion? Do? Did you know that downstairs in the foyer is one of the most formidable criminologists in England? Really? Oh, yes. And I can lay you almost any odds you would never recognize her as such. Her? Mm. There she sits. An elderly spinster. Sweet, placid, so you'd think. Yet her mind has plumbed the depths of human iniquity and taken it all in the day's work. How do we involve her? I expect she's involved already. She lives in St. Mary Mead, only a couple of miles from Arthur and Dolly's place. It's extraordinary. She knows the world only through the prism of that village and its daily life. By knowing the village so thoroughly, she seems to know the world. Miss Martha. Oh! Oh, Sir Henry. Oh, what luck. What a great pleasure. Oh, how kind of you to say so. Are you staying here? Yes, as a matter of fact. Poor Dolly Banshee and I are sharing a suite. I thought you might be involved. Have you found any village parallel yet? Well, not really, no. You don't sound sure. Well, I was trying to account for Mr. Jefferson's infatuation with the poor child that was murdered, I must admit. Mr. Harbottle came to mind and to a certain extent Mr. Badger the chemist. I knew you wouldn't fail me. Miss Marple, Conway Jefferson has asked me to keep an eye on the case, unofficially, of course. May I call you in for consultation, equally unofficially? Oh, of course. Sir Henry, if you think my little ramblings would be to the purpose, I... Oh, good. Then may I ask you and Mrs. Banfrey to dine with me this evening? I can't wait to hear the Harbottle-Badger thesis. Until tonight. What was her name again? Reeve, Major Reeve. The girl was called Pamela. Pamela Reeve. Reeve. Major Reeve? Yes. May we come in, sir? Oh, my God. Campbell. I don't think Conway Jefferson is a nasty old man, you know, Jane? Oh, certainly not. Oh, no, I wasn't implying that at one moment. No, I simply think he was looking for a nice, bright girl to take his dead daughter's place, and this girl saw her opportunity and feared it for all she was worth. Like the young maid, Mr. Harbottle. Ah. Harbottle. Good. Yes, ordinary girl, nice manner as she had. Mr. Harbottle's sister kept house for him and went away to nurse a dying relative. When she returned, she found the girl completely above herself, sitting down in the drawing room, laughing and talking and not wearing her uniform. Tut, tut. People said things, but I don't think it was any familiarity. I think it was simply that the old man found it much pleasanter to have a young, charming girl telling him how amusing and clever he was than Miss Harbottle continually pointing out his fool spirit. Yes. So you think it was foul play? Yes, sir. We think she was dead before she was placed in the car and that somebody tried to destroy the evidence. We found containers for several gallons of fuel. I see. You don't think she was... We think she was killed because she was an unwitting witness to another crime. We don't believe the motive was... We don't believe the motive was personal in any way. You mean sexual? Yes, sir. Another girl has been killed and we think Pamela may have stumbled across something that made her too dangerous for the murderer. Do you think you feel up to answering some questions now, sir? We want to catch this person and we need all the help we can get. Of course. Now, according to your first statement when you reported her missing at Harold Road, Pamela left Westcliffe to attend a guides rally in Danemouth and you expected her home for supper? Yes. She was supposed to come home by bus? The local station questioned some of her friends and they all agreed that Pamela said she was going down to Woolworths and would catch the bus later from the depot. Is that the sort of thing she often did? And she had no other plans? Not so far as I know. She hadn't got a real boyfriend or anything like that. She liked playing games. She was a sporting girl. And when Mr Badger discovered that Miss Hart was carrying on with a very undecidable young man connected with race courses and had actually pawned some of Mr Badger's presents, well... He was furious. Well, he was certainly disgusted. I'm not sure that Mr Badger was capable of anything so forthright as fury. Mrs Badger got a fur coat out of it. Do you think Mr Jefferson would be capable of fury? Conway? Oh, yes. He has drive. I'm sure he's capable of great anger. What do you think, Dolly? Yes, I do. Why do you ask, Jane? Miss Marple, you don't think... Conway, you don't really think that. Oh, no, no. No, I don't think it, Sir Henry. No. But this is a very muddy business. And I merely say that your friend Conway Jefferson is a rich, powerful and ingenious man whom I suspect would hate to be made a fool of. That's all. Miss Marple, Miss Marple. Why were you never called to the bar? What a wonderful prosecuting counsel you'd have made. She would. She is wonderful. Oh, no, I wouldn't have liked it at all. All that slummery and pretense. Far too theatrical. Oh, dear, no, no. I wouldn't have been good at all, no. I want everything you can find on Bartlett. I can't believe anyone can be that sparmy. And I want confirmation that this film bloke the Turner woman was talking about is in fact Basil Blake. And if it is, then I want as much as possible about his visits to Danemouth. Check him out with the film studio, as usual, Drew. Ah! Forensic prelim. Good. Here, was there a long-haired rug in that library? No, the hearth rug was a patterned oriental sort of thing. That dress she was wearing had some long hairs stuck to it, apparently. White hairs. Not wool. Ah! Therein was probably a goat. Mountain goat, something like that. Mountain goat? Don't reckon I've ever seen one. Whose house would you find one of those in, then? How about an ex-colonial type? Favourite occupation when bored with safeguarding the empire, shoot a Himalayan goat or two, eh? What, banditry? Why not? On his own admission, driving around between 10 and 11.45 on the night in question. No witnesses. Was at the Majestic last week. Knows the Jeffersons. But he'd be so stupid as to dump a body in their own library. Or so clever. Oh, I certainly think that if Ruby had had a young man, she would have been careful to keep very quiet about it. And the young man might have resented it. Yes, that's plausible. You know, it struck me when her cousin, Miss Turner, was at Gossington yesterday that she looked angry with the dead girl. Of course, it may be that she was hoping to do well out of this business of her adoption. Now, to get back to Conway, what do you suppose sparked off this infatuation with the girl? Oh, that's easy. From what I can gather, the bond between him and his young in-laws was not so much respect and love as sorrow. Mr. Gaskell and Mrs. Jefferson are both young. They're beginning to feel less sorrowful, that's all. They're beginning to look at the world again. And you know, gentlemen can so easily feel neglected. Yes. Yes, I think if you'll excuse me, I'll just telephone to Arthur. I know that you two have lots to natter about. Jane, let's breakfast together. Oh, Dolly, dear, yes, indeed, of course. Good night, Sir Henry. Good night. Why did you refer to Mrs. Bantry as poor Dolly this afternoon? Well, Sir Henry, it seems to be that this may well be the sort of crime that never does get resolved, like the Brighton trunk murders. That would be disaster for the Bantrys. People would think there's no smoke without fire. Some will even say it, too. They'll be quietly shunned. Colonel Bantry is very sensitive. He'll turn in and in upon himself. He's probably started already. I think this could quite literally kill them. So you see, Sir Henry, we have got to find out the truth. It's such an open case, though, isn't it? It's 15 miles to Gossington. Now, Ruby Keane was last seen here at 11.30. By midnight or earlier, she was dead. Almost any type of car could have made the journey in that time if it was midnight. But why anyone should kill her here and take her body to Gossington or take her to Gossington and kill her there beats me. Well, of course it does, because it didn't happen. What, do you think it was a number of meditated killings? I don't think anything of the kind. I think that a very careful plan was made, and what happened was that the plan went wrong. What is it? The orchestra. Their tune. Dolly was humming it this morning. Do you know it? It's been haunting me, and here they are playing it. Do you know what it is? I'm not very up on the latest thing. It's Mozart, Sir Henry. Come in. That's the police again. I'm afraid it is, sir. No need to be afraid, Lorimer. No, sir. Have you seen any tobacco? No, sir. I think I'll go and get some. What do they want, then? They're asking if we have any long-haired white rugs in the house. Have we? Not white, I believe, sir. Pale, yes, I said. They want to take samples. Of what? Of the hairs in the rugs, sir. Of the hairs in the rugs? Well, let them search the place. If this is the open season on hairy rugs, let them loose. Why not? All right. Go ahead. Turn the place upside down. Liberty Hall. Good morning, Mrs. Edders. Good morning to you, Mr. Brogan. Morning, Colonel. What can I get you? I think I'll take a two-ounce tin of my usual, please. Thank you, sir. Put it down, will you? Oh, uh... Nothing, sir. Nothing at all, Colonel. Please, sir. Sad day, Mr. Brogan. Sad day. You were going to refuse him tick, weren't you? Just because some madman dumps a body in his house, suddenly he's untouchable. My God, this place. Give me Babylon any day. Colonel. What is it, Blake? I just wanted to say how sorry I am, sir. You are? Like what? This business of the body in your house. It can't be very amusing. I must say you've got a damn funny way of putting things sometimes, Blake. Well, quite. It must be awful. Something so inexplicable. It's inexplicable. Quite. I just hope it isn't, uh... Look, I think I'll be on my way. If there's anything I can do... Look, Blake. You and I have never got on very well together in the past, have we? Thanks for the offer and all that. But I can't see that situation changing, can you? Good day to you. Oh, yes, it was all Addie's fault, all right. Too many tennis lessons with that good-looking young fellow. Mark. Jeff felt neglected. No wonder he turned to our little dance hostess. You weren't exactly over-attentive to him yourself. Ah, no, but it's female company that's the key to it. As to everything else. Yes, but I mean a girl like me won't be key. Oh, quite. Jeff's always been such a sensible, level-headed old boy. Gentlemen are sometimes not so level-headed as they seem. Oh, well, uh... How is Conway today? I thought he looked well enough yesterday, but I hear he's been ill. Yes, he's all right. Tell me, Ruby Keane, what was she really like? Oh, Lord. Well, I don't see why we shouldn't talk about her. She was a commoner garden gold digger. Oh, Mark. And she knew her stuff. We never spotted her. Luckily for her, I'd have wrung her neck. Mark, for heaven's sake. It's just a figure of speech, Addie. We were mugged not to have tumbled her to Henry, and I, uh... I was angry, that's all. I'm sure Addie and I are both under heavy suspicion. Jeff was proposing to settle an absolute fortune on the half-baked little sourpuss, which we have to assume would have been our loss. What an unscrupulous person you are, Addie. Isn't that dear old Hugo McClane? Yes. Addie only has to whistle, and along he comes, wagging his tail. The most reliable man in England. He's hoping to marry her, of course. You take this sack of potatoes to be your lawful wedded husband. I don't know. Well, will you excuse me? My daily duty. Jeff's constitutional. A quick burn up the corniche in the wheelchair. Bye. Well, what do you think are the principal beneficiaries of the murder? Well, I think Mrs. Jefferson should marry again. She's a likeable woman. She'd make a good companion. No wonder Mr. Jefferson missed her. And Mark Gaskell? Oh, he's a downy fellow. Village parallel, please. Mr. Cargill, the builder. He bluffed a lot of people in having more done to their houses than they wanted to, and then charged them the earth. He married money, too. Like Mr. Gaskell. So you don't like him? Oh, yes. Yes, I do. Oh, yes, I think he's attractive, but he doesn't take me in. A downy fellow who talks a little too much, that's what I think. And there's another little story. Do you mean... Are you suggesting that that star fellow is entertaining ideas of marrying Mrs. Jefferson? Because if so... Well, Dolly, we're told that Hugo McLean is. And anyone who marries Adelaide Jefferson would not want to see her disinherited. Yes. So you're still trying to tell me that where there's a motive, there's no opportunity, and where there's opportunity, there's no motive. Who stands to gain, sir? Mrs. Jefferson and Mr. Gaskell. Both playing bridge from Ruby Keane's exhibition dance until, well, after midnight. Scores of witnesses. Rock-solid alibis. Same with Star. What about Blake? He was at a studio party until the small hours. He knew Ruby Keane, we think, but there's no discernible motive. Bartlett? Well, he had the opportunity, true. And he can't account for his movements for the time when she was killed. And the Reeve girls in his car. But everything else is against him. There's no motive in either case. Amiable sort. Completely dim. Oh, we're following him up. There's a thousand to one, that. By the way, sir, I suppose Ruby Keane really was dead by midnight, was she? Ah, now, I'd already asked myself that question. So, I rang Dr. Haylock. Just to verify. He got quite a shirt, as a matter of fact. Now, he puts midnight as the absolute limit. Ah, yes, here we are. Apparently, she was heavily drugged before she was killed. A barbiturate. Which doesn't look like impromptu violence, does it, sir? A random killing, then? A psycho? No, no, no. Melchett? Oh, yes, Lake. Thank you. No, no, he's with me. I'll tell him. Yes, goodbye. Apparently, Basil Blake was seen leaving the studio car park at about 11 o'clock on the night in question. Would that have given him time? Yes, sir, it would. What do you be doing? What does it look like? I do stink. You be burning your car? No. My old granny, as a matter of fact. Oh, thanks.