The ABC Murders

Mrs Marbury? 'Ya

Mr Cust.

Rent is two and six a week, you pay up front and a week in hand.

Some parcels got delivered for you. We took them up.

I trust you're not going to be expecting that service

regularly, carrying parcels.

What do you think I am, a pack horse?

You should have left them for me to carry.

And have brown paper items littering my vestibule?

This is no post office.

I'm very sorry to inconvenience you, Mrs Marbury.

The front door is bolted at ten o'clock sharp.

I don't hold with none of my gentlemen out carousing

half the night. I don't hold with no topers and sots neither.

Nor no bad language, profanities and blasphemies and the like.

What I do hold with is old-fashioned manners.

You mind your Ps and Qs and we'll get along nicely.

The privy is in the yard.

I prefer my gentlemen to not be cavalier in their use

of the lavatory paper. It blocks up the pipes,

and then who's got to get in there with a stick and break it up?

Me, that's who.

Are you just passing through

or do you expect to be a long-term resident?

That all depends.

On what?

The success of my enterprise.

Bed bugs?

I run a clean house, Mr Cust. A very clean house. No foreigns.

Not like some round here - take in all sorts,

don't know whose air you're breathing.

Mr Treadgold. One of my long-term residents.

Got a bad back. My daughter Lily is helping him.

Very skilled she is, with gentlemen what have aches.

A shilling for ordinary.

You book through me. You pay me.

She knows her stuff, won't give you no argument.

I'll let you get unpacked.

I followed you the other day.

You looked old and tired.

You walk as if your feet hurt.

I was rather concerned for you.

I stood so close behind you.

Could you feel my breath on your neck, Hercule?

Plenty will say that it is vanity.

"That puffed up, pompous peacock Poirot," they'll say.

And they'll laugh at you behind your back,

but I'm not laughing

because it's not vanity.

I think you're trying to roll back the time to when you were

a famous detective.

When you were celebrated, when you were wanted

when you were loved.

I have never been loved,

but I will be feared.

I will be a faceless beast,

leading lambs to the slaughter.

I need to speak to Inspector Japp on a matter of urgency.

I know the way. He's not here.

Where is he?

Hoeing his cabbages, most like.

Just a regular civilian now.

He retired? Mm-hm. Who took over from him?

That'll be young Inspector Crome, sir.

Then I'll speak to him. He's out on a case at the moment.

Take a seat with the other members of the public, if you'd be so good.

Inspector Crome, sir.

Hercule Poirot.

I will be a faceless beast leading lambs to the slaughter.

Inspector Japp-

"I'm going to do something for both of us, Hercule.

"I'm getting my ducks in a row, as they say.

"I'll let you know when I'm ready.

"Until then, chin-chin. ABC."

Every letter from ABC has a different postmark.

I keep the envelopes. They're different from the others.

What others? THE others.

A small selection, presented solely for comparison of tone and intent.

"You're not better than us. Piss off, Froggy."

19 years I've lived here, and still people think I'm French.

Are they all like this? Mm.

You should have said you were retiring.

I would have raised a glass to you.

Ah, didn't want to make a big song and dance. Just did it quietly.

Japp, why wouldn't Inspector Crome see me?

Well, you know what young men are like. Want to make their name.

He's a good lad, though. Just give him time.

Why do you keep these?

You should chuck them in the bin where they belong.

They come every day, Japp-

The letters from ABC are polite, sympathetic,

almost friendly.

They scare me the most.

And there is something wrong about them.

I cannot put my finger on what is wrong about them.

Something wrong with them? Everything's wrong with them!

"I will be a faceless beast." This bloke's off his crust!

You're out of sorts.

Too much on your own.

Now, if you were busy, you'd see these for what they are -

nasty, cruel people,

and some mad bloke playing a vicious game with you,

and you'd chuck the whole sorry lot of them.

I've baked a ham.

Got some spuds.

Nice red cabbage.

Come and have supper.

Jam roly-poly with custard for pudding.

Quelle horreur! English food. Come on.

We'll set the world to rights.

Even got some brandy left over from Christmas.

I could use the company too, if I'm honest.

If it is a favour to you, then I accept.

Smashing.

But first, I'm burning these.

Every last single one of them.

Japp

thank you, my friend.

Close the shed for me and we'll head straight off.

Japp?

Japp? Japp?

Good morning to you, madam.

Do I have the privilege of addressing Mrs Alice Asher?

Yes, but don't waste your breath on the patter, sunshine.

I'm not buying anything and I've a sandwich waiting, so on your way.

You don't know what I'm selling yet, Mrs Asher.

The Lord giveth and the Lord taketh away.

Blessed be the Lord.

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

Inspector Crome! Do not make me chase you through a graveyard!

It's beneath both our dignities!

Mr Poirot. I need you to speak to your colleagues in Andover.

About what?

Murder.

This was Japp's office.

It was.

You still do those murder parties, in the big houses?

Like when you were a celebrity?

Odd thing to do -

rich people pretending to be murdered.

Grisly.

There's no longer the demand.

Mr Poirot

you appear to be melting.

Must have been jolly though,

cavorting with the gentry.

The bright young things.

The aristos.

Playing at death.

Fun while it lasted.

Inspector Crome, have I caused you some offence?

Do you mean me personally, or me collectively, as in the force?

Both.

What offence do you think you might have caused, Mr Poirot?

You're the great detective, the solver of impenetrable clues.

You work it out.

Yelland.

So I've spoken in depth to our colleagues at Andover, sir,

and received details of all crimes committed

on the 31st of March, 1933, to wit:

a dog running off with some laundry, a bicycle thrown in a river,

an altercation involving a set of dentures. Dentures?

Yes, sir, the miscreant being one Herbert "Humpy" Morris, who

requested that a passing lady give him a smile to which she responded

with some choice Anglo-Saxon, whereupon Morris threw his dentures

at her, the lady stamped on them and it all turned into quite the to-do.

What else? The usual run of drunk and disorderlies and breaches of

the peace, punch-ups, soliciting and a boy broke the window of

Asher's tobacconists but Mrs Asher didn't answer the door

so the constable concluded she was in the public house,

as she was often wont to be, taped some cardboard over

the window and let the young lad off with a clip round the lug-hole.

No murders. No, sir.

No corpse in the library.

No silver candlestick rammed in some heiress' eye socket.

No twitching guts in the conservatory.

No, sir.

Well, there we are then.

I hope that puts your mind at rest.

You know what day it is today, don't you?

The first of April.

Fools' Day.

I think you've just been taken.

Your time and effort in this matter are appreciated.

Your time and effort in this matter are appreciated.

Why's his chin all grey?

Don't ask.

Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grace.

Le Seigneur est avec vous.

Vous etes benie entre toutes les femmes

What offence do you think you might have caused, Mr Poirot?

Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grace.

What offence do you think you might have caused, Mr Poirot?

What offence?

Je vous salue, Marie, pleine de grace.

Le Seigneur est avec vous.

Breaches of the peace, punch-ups,

soliciting, and a boy broke the window of Asher's tobacconists,

but Mrs Asher didn't answer the door so the constable concluded she was

in the public house.