Agatha, darling.
So sorry to have kept you waiting but I wanted to show you this.
Hello, Hercule! They can't enough of him.
We're already on two reprints of Roger Ackroyd.
That's marvellous. I'm delighted. Except you don't seem it.
Has Gloria made you a cup of tea? No tea, thank you, Billy.
What did you want to speak to me -about? -Well, to know your plans.
What next?
Oh, I have been working on something. Early days.
Love early days. Carry on.
It's about a woman, a writer, who thinks - well, knows - her husband is having an affair
and that he wants to divorce her.
-Madness, I know. -Scandalous. Love it.
Except she doesn't want a divorce because she still loves him, you see?
-Always has. -Well, all aboard the heartache express.
-Ticket for Billy! -So he has no other choice but to kill her.
Maybe, in fact, she just kills herself.
I just don't know yet.
And that's when Hercule Poirot steps in, am I right?
Oh, no, it's not... It's not a Poirot story.
Or is it?
Are you...? Are you telling me to put -him in, Billy? -Of course not.
You're the writer.
Only, Conan Doyle has bought half of Sussex thanks to Sherlock Holmes.
You know I don't care about the money.
Do you think, a hundred years from now,
anyone is going to remember the name Agatha Christie?
Give the people what they want - the funny little Belgian with a moustache.
-I'll think about it. -Attagirl.
So....
what does old Hercule P uncover this time?
Is it murder? Foul play?
Chief Inspector Danders?
Please stand back behind the rope, ma'am. This is a crime scene.
Dorothy L Sayers, the brains behind the master investigator Lord Wimsey.
-Lord who? -Lord Peter Wimsey.
From such hit novels as Whose Body and Clouds Of Witness?
Never heard of them. Now, if you'll excuse me, Miss Whatever-Your-Name-Was,
I'm afraid I really am very busy.
But who better to help you investigate the disappearance of a crime novelist
that someone who understands crime writing most intimately? Someone like me.
-Sir Arthur Conan Doyle! -At your service.
Sir, it is an honour, an honour indeed.
We could do with Sherlock on this case, that's for sure.
Dorothy L Sayers. Huge fan.
Might I ask to join you? Be a Watson to your Holmes, perhaps?
-Oh! -But, Miss Sayers, Watson was a man.
Yes. I'm open to many new forms of detection
and, yes, the idea of a lady detective may seem like the stuff of science fiction to you and I,
yet it could be invaluable to have the mind of a lady to draw on.
It would be an honour. How can I help?
Strong cup of tea and a biscuit, if you would, Sayers.
Now lead me to the crime scene. This way, Sir Arthur.
I'm not making tea.
Now, I have to tell you, Newlands Corner is a notorious spot for suicides.
Well, one thing is abundantly clear.
This car was driven by a woman.
Extraordinary. It's like having Holmes himself walk amongst us.
Well, how can you be so sure?
Simple - the erratic parking style
and the fact that the driver's side mirror is down
for the purposes of checking rouge and maquilla.
It's also registered to Agatha Christie
and was found with her driver's licence inside, no?
You seem willing to seize the first information that comes to hand.
Might I ask, was the car like this when it was found?
Yes - passenger door open, fur coat and glove on the back seat, just so.
A supposedly crashed car but no out-of-control tyre tracks -
nothing to suggest it came off the road by accident.
It almost looks staged.
I would like to bring in an expert to look at this, if I may.
A man of science.
What exactly -? Sh! You'll disturb his energy.
Oh, sorry, it's very difficult to get a signal from the spirit world out here.
You said he was a man of science.
I'll have you know Horace Lambardi is one of the most highly respected psychic scientists
in the country.
There is an energy coming through. It's a woman.
Yeah, I can smell her perfume.
Did the lady in question wear -perfume? -I don't know.
It could be shampoo. Is it sham -?
It is. She's nodding. Does the lady in question have hair?
--Yes! -Yes! -This is extraordinary.
It must be Agatha.
Oh! What is she saying, Horace?
There's a letter coming through. Erm...
It might be an F.
I. J. K. L. H...
H, H, H...
-Husband! -That's it! H, H, H.
H could mean anything. It could just as easily mean house.
The husband lives in a house with Agatha,
the same house she fled from.
You've cracked it, Horace! Well, that's settled.
Tomorrow we shall head for the Christie residence.
I'd lay odds of two-to-one that the husband is behind this.
Colonel Christie, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
and Dorothy L, er, Sayers.
Conan Doyle. What an absolute treat. Huge Sherlock fan.
Always telling Aggie, "Come on, old girl.
Why can't you write something like that?"Too kind.
Yes, I don't believe we've had the pleasure.
Ah, this is Nancy, Nancy Neele, and Nancy is my blacksmith.
-Your blacksmith? -Yes.
This is the '20s, you know.
Ladies can pretty much do as they please.
I'm delighted to meet you, Miss -Neele. -Yes. Likewise.
-I'm a friend of your wife. -We're assisting the police in their search for Agatha.
Absolutely delighted to hear it. I've been sick with worry.
Yes, well, I'm sorry to have to tell you that, er...
your wife is dead.
-Dead? -What?
Yes, shocking news, I grant you,
but as soon as we've located the cadaver, then all will become clear.
-Of course. -This is madness. It's all nonsense.
Dorothy, can we just have a quiet word?
We have no evidence to suggest Agatha is dead, Sir Arthur.
Can't you see I was just doing it to gauge the man's reaction?
Oh!
Oh, I see.
I say! That is rather clever. Of course it is.
And look at him - the man's a wreck.
But surely -I think it best if you just left the rest to me.
Fine. You keep them busy. I'm going to take a look around.
Dorothy!
You told the press her husband murdered her.
I know. Cunning, we thought, eh?
Sir Arthur thought that. I didn't think it, not once.
Obviously, having you work with us has been a huge honour, Sir Arthur,
but I think it might be better for us to part ways.
I don't understand. Are you -resigning? -No.
No, I'm not resigning.
It's just all getting a bit out of hand.
We've got sightings coming in from Harrogate to Hebden Bridge.
-It's madness! -And you have investigated them?
Oh, honestly, Miss Sayers!
Most of them are in some hydro spa place.
We can't very well go barging in when people are trying to relax.
Oh, no, no. Absolutely. Indeed.
Look, I may not have been entirely following police protocol
by allowing you in on the case.
And now we've brought shame on the investigation and the police force.
By being too good, yes.
So you would like us to carry on but...anonymously.
Absolutely not.
-Just me? -Neither of us, Arthur. We're off the case.
Sorry to bother you, sir. The Commissioner needs to speak to you.
If you'll excuse me.
Damn it! We were getting so close.
But I think the answer might be right here, anyway.
Just look.
"And so she chose instead to head for the very place she was meant to be."
Just look at the map.
Well, the problem is that we have been trying to solve this ourselves,
rather than being guided by the spirits.
By choosing random letters, the spirits will guide me to their messages
and, by association, Agatha's corpse.
One banana...
L.
Two bananas...
I.
-Three bananas. -Oh, stop, please!
M. Four bananas.
A. L-I-M-A.
Lima! It's Peru!
She's not in Peru. She's in Harrogate.
I should book us tickets on the next boat.
We should be there within the year.
Well, at least you came to your senses about that Horace Lambardi charlatan.
Now, now. Horace is a man of great talents.
Oh, please. Anyone could have got H, H, H.
Harrogate Hydro Hotel.
By God, Lambardi! You're right again.
Quick! To King's Cross. We must catch the next train to Harrogate.
And to think that you wanted us to go all the way to Peru.
I've invited all the suspects. They're arriving on the next train.
The spirit world may have brought us to this place
but it is my deductions that will determine
which of them killed Agatha Christie.
But what if she's not dead?
Yes. We require two rooms
and access to a drawing room that has no secret passageways.
It's for an accusation and so we may need staff on standby.
There's sure to be a lot of fainting.
-Neele. -I will make my way to the drawing room
and prepare for the accusation.
I imagine you have things to attend to first,
like waxing hats and that kind of business.
I wonder, might it possible to talk to Miss Neele in room 414?
Oh, the South African lady. Certainly.
If you can catch her between songs. Sorry?
Spent most of this week in the Palm Room.
Singing.
♪ Baby face
♪ You've got the cutest little baby face
♪ There's not another one to take your place, baby face
♪ My h-heart is jumping You sure have started something
♪ Baby face
♪ I'm up in heaven when I'm in your fond embrace
♪ I didn't need a shove Cos I just fell in love
♪ With your pretty baby face. ♪
You're probably wondering why I've gathered you all here.
Dragging me halfway across the country
after I expressly told you to stay out, this had better be good, Conan Doyle.
Oh, it's good, Danders.
You see, one of the people in this very room is guilty
of the murder of Agatha Christie.
What? She's... She's dead?
♪ Yes, we have no bananas
♪ We have no bananas today. ♪
Thank you.
Hello, Agatha.
The question is, who committed the crime?
Was it her publisher?
With Agatha dead, her sales would surely sky-rocket.
Or if she stayed alive
she could just carry on writing lots more books for us,
so...
Mm.
But you're not the only one who would benefit financially from Agatha's death.
Is he, Colonel Christie?
You're a tricky woman to find.
Not as tricky as I'd hoped, evidently.
Well, that's the thing with us writers.
We can't help but leave little clues in our writing.
Ingenious, really, that story in here,
about the wife fearing murder by her husband.
It placed everyone's suspicions on Archie.
-More tea? -Thank you. Although you've got it quite the wrong way round.
My plan was never to draw attention to Archie.
It was to draw his attention to me.
I wanted him to come and find me to show that he loved me
and not her. Nancy Neele.
It was checking in under her surname that confirmed to me that you were here.
Yes, a juvenile gesture when one is pushed to the edge.
I'm Mrs Christie, not her.
You're not married, are you, Dorothy?
Well, in many ways, I consider myself
married to my work and Lord Peter...
-No, I'm not married. -It was to save our marriage.
Now look at this mess. A nationwide manhunt.
Not to mention a huge waste of police time.
Yes, thank you, Dorothy.
Are you wearing my fur?
For a decent Englishman to be financially dependent upon his wife
would be beyond the pale.
I love Agatha.
Really?!
OK. But I wouldn't kill her.
No, you wouldn't.
It became clear to me early on that there was something different about this disappearance.
The cunning little clues, the staged nature of the details.
This, Danders, was the work of a woman.
But no woman would have the strength to murder someone
and then drag the body from a car.
No woman.
Except for a blacksmith.
You killed her!
Except, firstly, I'm not a blacksmith.
And secondly, I have an alibi for the night of her disappearance.
Well, I was with Archie.
In bed.
God! The bare-faced impropriety of it.
If there wasn't a lady present I would light my pipe right now.
You can do what you like. Archie and I are in the clear.
Well, I was rather counting on it being one of you
but erm...
Well, OK, but just bear with me.
Erm... Yeah, I'll...
I'll get to the bottom of this.
Why don't you just grant him the divorce?
Start over again - a new chapter.
Because life isn't a novel, Dorothy dear,
and there are no happy endings for any of us, just endings.
You can't look at it like that. I know but it's the truth.
I love him.
I just...can't face starting all over again. I just can't.
There's always that moment, isn't there, when you start a new novel,
that mix of fear and excitement?
Yes.
That moment is now for you. The page is blank.
You can write anything you like with any of the characters you choose.
No, but the scandal is...
Not necessarily.
I think between us we can come up with something that tidies this whole mess under the carpet.
A little collaboration, you think?
Waitress, another pot, please.
But of course, you didn't have to be there in person to murder Agatha.
You could pay somebody to commit murder,
somebody strong enough to shove a car off the road
or to haul a body away -
not a man but a... but, but, but...
But a great ape!
I think we might be better drawing this to a close.
No! No, no, no, no. Please hear me out.
I did it once in a Holmes story. It's a stretch but -
--Sir Arthur? -Oh, Dorothy. -Might I...?
Wait. Wait a minute.
Driven by professional jealousy.
A more successful writer. Eaten up by envy.
You killed Agatha.
No?
Thank you for keeping everyone busy, as we agreed.
Did we? You're welcome.
Ladies and gentlemen,
Mrs Agatha Christie.
Aggie! You're alive.
What happened?
You'd better have a damn good explanation, young lady.
Er... I do.
You see, I went for a drive on the night of the disappearance.
I veered off the road, what with having womanly concerns on my mind.
-Seems feasible so far. -I'll say.
When I came to I had no idea where I was
I'd entered a kind of...
fugue state.
-I wandered for miles. -Poor lamb!
I must have wandered to King's Cross and jumped on a train
and then I ended up
here.
Well, this clears everything up. A fugue state!
Of course. No wonder. An automobile crash.
Doubtless the strain of worrying about the damage you'd caused your husband's car
was enough to send your poor mind over the edge.
A fugue state.
Congratulations, Sir Arthur.
You've done it again.
Oh, goodness.
Agatha! Agatha! Colonel Christie!
-Colonel Christie! -Agatha!
You played Watson to my Holmes well. He's always two steps behind.
You thought she was dead.
Sir Arthur, you've wrapped up another mystery.
Oh, please, please.
I may have tidied up this entire mystery into a neat little package
but I...I didn't do it alone.
No, there was someone else here who cracked open this entire mystery.
The spirit world.
Sir Arthur, what are your views on the Cottingley fairies?
Well, I don't have one yet. It's an area that requires investigation.
Dorothy, my bags. We haven't a minute to lose.
I'm not helping you investigate -fairies. -Oh, come, come, my Watson.
The game's afoot.
For God's sake.
Fine. But I'm only coming with you to get a lift to the station.
You know Cottingley is on our route -back to London? -No, it isn't.
I believe it could be. That's the trouble with you, Arthur.
You could believe anything.
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