Do hurry, Victoria, it's our big dinner tonight and I want everything to be just perfect.

You worry too much, Mrs. Kendall.

I know.

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 rather 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.

All the different people.

Mr. Rafiel.

Miss Esther.

Thank you.

You don't have to thank him, girl.

It's what he's paid to do.

-Sorry.

-The Thuggees of India.

The Hashshashin -of Persia.

-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 bokor, a voodoo witch doctor, to do his bidding.

It's a horrible practice 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 that he'd seen a zombie, you know.

Oh, I can't imagine anything more terrifying.

Can you?

Mind you, the behavior of some people in our so-called civilized society is often no better.

Drink, drugs, bed hopping, suicide, wives murdering their husbands, husbands doing away with their wives.

Wouldn't you agree?

How do you find being a man of God?

I'm so 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 all right, I hope.

Oh, it is now.

Canon Prescott, I saw the watercolor you've been working on.

It's absolutely lovely.

Oh, thank you.

It's really not-- 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 quite tear it off your back.

Oh, you're no slouch yourself, Molly.

I absolutely adore the color of the 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...

I hope Molly's been looking after you all.

I'm afraid not.

She's been flirting with all the men, except me.

I feel left out.

Let me, 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 whopping great 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 murderer 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 around the bases... As I was saying, I would 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 murderer, 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 murderer gets 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.

Forgive me, but I think you've heard quite enough of our resident bore.

-Thank you.

-Major Palgrave.

Oh, thank you.

Yes, I was... 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 color.

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 fertilizers.

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.

Used to do 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 percent myself.

Are you all right, sir?

Are you all right?

Excuse me.

I say, Major Palgrave... And I don't want to appear ungrateful.

My nephew Raymond has gone to such expense.

Dr. 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 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?

The current has washed it around 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.

Everything all right, Johnny?

Good morning, miss.

Another perfect day in paradise.

Oh, indeed.

My dear, anything wrong?

Well, you'll have to know.

Everyone will have to know.

Poor Major Palgrave died in the night.

Oh, dear.

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.

And 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.

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 and joking and telling stories, and the next... My dear, are you quite all right?

Yes, I thought...

It's nothing.

I thought I saw something in... Do you ever get the feeling someone is wa...

I must have...

I just imagined it.

Yes, these things happen.

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

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 a light dun color, extremely well camouflaged, look.

-It got me.

-No, Lucky.

You really must try to be a little quieter.

Hey, Greg.

Take my picture.

You never photograph me anymore.

I only try to take pictures of 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 frangipani.

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!

Well, 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.

Well, 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 perhaps the warmer weather might-- All right.

Spare us the grisly details.

What time is it?

Twenty to 12?

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.

Oh, hey, Molly.

Are 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 gun's just a warning, nothing more.

I can give you some pills for the pain.

Gentle exercise will help.

Otherwise-- 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 for him 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 killed 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.

No.

No.

Oh, no.

Oh, Canon.

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, you know that little favor -that 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.

Okay.

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.

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.

I'm sorry to have disturbed you.

No bother.

-Wake up, man.

-What do you want?

-It's not morning.

-Wake up, man.

I need to talk to you.

What's worrying you, girl?

The little one coughing again?

It's bad, Errol.

It's getting worse.

Get some more medicine off Mama Zogbe.

It'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 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.

It's got 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 flieth 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.

Well, 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 all 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 poor dead tiger or... -you know.

-Do I?

He loved scandal, gossip.

Anything to do with... 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.

Sadly, 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 murderer?

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 really 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, Miss Marple, 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 labeled Serenite.

It's quite commonly used.

But 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, I mean, 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 murderer?

-A murderer?

I don't recall him ever telling a story about a murderer.

Plenty of tittle-tattle and gossip.

You mean people staying at the hotel?

You must have heard the rumors.

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 that 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 sometimes 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 up with Lucky Dyson.

What makes you say that?

There are two types of blonde, Miss Marple, 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 favorite 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.

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... say it's 5:00, and I can't remember anything since about half past 1:00 or 2:00.

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.

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?

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.

-For instance-- -Jackson.

For instance, I wonder who started the rumor 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 murderer?

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 killed 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 killed their wives, wives who killed their husbands, mistresses who poisoned their parrots.

The other evening, he was about to show me a snapshot of a murderer, 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 murdered to shut him up?

If our murderer had killed 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 murder will be committed right under our noses.

And you never saw the photograph -of the murderer, 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 tablets in the room.

So 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 then?

It is possible that somebody put something in his drink.

Something that would not leave any recognizable 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-- 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.

As I was saying, I'm busy.

-Now look here-- -No, no, no.

Let's, let's leave, or we'll 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... -Who does he think he is?

we take all accounts seriously.

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.

-Okay, suit yourself.

The first time he tried it, he was sick.

And 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, Tim.

I don't think... She's a lovely girl, your Molly.

Don't I know it.

Oh, speaking of Lucky.

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

That's my taxi.

My purse.

I just keep losing the damn things.

Cheers.

Hi.

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.

Well, if you hate me so much, -why don't you just 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 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 wanna 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 whole 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 kill 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 mean, 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... 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?

Oh, thank you very much.

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 recognizes the killer 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, thank you.

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 killed before, and they intend to do so again.

Whoever it is believes they have a successful formula.

So where do we start?

Find the intended victim, and we find our murderer.

-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 fertilizer.

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 organize a proper search party -in the morning.

-No.

We keep looking.

Can someone just tell me what's going on?

What are supposed to be looking for... 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?

Oh, you can't be sure of anything in the dark.

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

Ah, 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.

-Tim, 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 still running the place.

Long before you came on the scene.

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

She got away with it because 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 you are, I know what you want.

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

But if you do anything to harm Molly, I will kill you.

I swear to God I will kill 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 savior.

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.

Oh, I think we need some fresh... Are you all right?

Gosh.

My shoelaces were untied.

I've taken quite a tumble.

Oh, 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 murdered 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 overtly interested in murders and poisonings, 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 in paradise.

Mind you 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.

I mean, that poor girl, Victoria, first she was dead, then she wasn't.

And 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 murder.

We always argue.

She's a strong woman.

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.

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

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 go and 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 murder as well.

The thing of it is, Mr. Rafiel, I don't believe Victoria's death was the one being planned by our murderer.

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?

Well, I, 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.

Little pink tablets, blood pressure.

And have any of your pills gone missing lately?

Yeah.

It's funny you should mention that, a bottle did do a vanishing act the other day.

No.

Is it important?

As things are, anything might be important.

Can you account for your whereabouts at the time of the murder?

If you can figure out what time that was, I'll try and figure out where I was, okay?

But you mean, you gotta admit, the whole thing is kind of confused.

And...

I was uh...

I was kind of 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 killer 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.

Tim.

Molly!

Darling!

Molly, what happened to you?

What have I done?

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.

You know, 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 a little 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 on the spot.

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 murdered.

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 to 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 murdered.

But the police can't be sure exactly when she was killed.

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 murderer?

Because if it is, I will kill him.

I will kill 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.

Don't worry... We'll find out if it was an accident or something worse.

With everything that's been going on around here, I'd say the chances of it being an accident are pretty goddamn unlikely.

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

You're gonna have to accept, Greg, that she was very unhappy and took her own life.

Shut your mouth!

You don't know anything about her.

Somebody killed Lucky.

I'm afraid, Mr. Dyson, if that's the case, then you, being her husband, will be the prime suspect.

-Get lost!

-Do not jump to any conclusions, sergeant.

Anyone in this room -might have had a motive.

-Or somebody who isn't in this room.

Gee.

Where is Molly anyway, Tim?

My Lucky is dead, and I know perfectly well who killed her!

You're gonna have to calm down, Greg.

This really 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 all about.

It's so simple.

Let's face it, folks, there's only one person in this hotel unhinged enough to kill three people.

You better watch what you're saying, Greg.

Your goddamn 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, Tim.

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.

Just five minutes.

Five minutes.

Well, what do you say, Miss Marple?

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

Just pull the trigger, and it's finished.

Please, Tim, I don't want to.

Pull it, you silly little bitch!

-That's enough!

-Oh, thank God!

You're just in time.

I think she was trying to kill herself.

Don't be a fool, Tim.

I heard everything.

No.

Molly, she...

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

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

Give me the gun, Tim.

Oh, God!

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

No, Tim.

I always knew that Molly was the intended victim.

But up until now, I wasn't absolutely sure who the killer was, so...

I asked Errol to change the bullets in your gun for some of Colonel Hillingdon's blanks.

Just in case.

I think we've found our murderer, Inspector.

Let go of him!

It's not fair!

Tim!

Tim!

-Let go of him!

-It's Molly.

She's been telling lies!

Tim, I love you!

For God's sake!

Shut your mouth!

Are you trying to get me hanged?

Shut that big ugly mouth of yours!

Molly, I... Molly!

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 anymore.

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 civilized behavior do not apply here.

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.

This business about the married man that Molly was seeing before she met Tim, that was just another red herring, -I suppose?

Oh, 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 around 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 murderer who'd killed 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, realized 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 favorite spot.

And the current carried her body around 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.

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.

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.

[speaking Latin] I'm afraid I don't know very much Latin.

But you understand?

Yes, I understand.

It's been a great pleasure to know you.

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