Murder Most Foul Page #3

Synopsis: Although the evidence appears to be overwhelming in the strangulation murder of a blackmailer, Miss Marple's sole 'not guilty' vote hangs the jury 11-1. She becomes convinced that the real murderer is a member of a local theatrical troupe, so she joins them in order to gather information. The clues lead back many years to a single disastrously unsuccessful 1951 performance of a dreadful play written by the group's hammy director, H. Driffold Cosgood. Although at that time, several of the current cast members were only children, more murders follow before Miss Marple ultimately exposes the killer.
 
IMDB:
7.2
UNRATED
Year:
1964
90 min
385 Views


Mrs McGinty

attended each performance.

- Why?

- It's an excellent play.

True, but her interest

was not primarily in the play,

former actress

though she may have been.

No, I am convinced

she was a blackmailer

and she was blackmailing

a member of this company.

- Her murderer, you suppose?

- I do.

- I think we deserve a small beer.

- Yes, please.

It's you, Inspector.

You gave me quite a turn.

You gave me

quite a turn, Miss Marple.

- May I come in?

- Well...

Yes.

It's Inspector Craddock, Mr Stringer.

Oh, how nice.

- Good evening, Inspector.

- Good evening.

Are you here socially

or officially, Inspector?

Well, a little bit of both

shall we say.

That poses an interesting problem.

Socially, I can

offer you a small beer.

Officially,

I cannot if you're on duty.

I...

All right,

Miss Marple, it's official.

Then perhaps some tea.

Won't you sit down?

Thank you, no. This won't take long.

We were playing anagrams, Inspector.

Miss Marple,

Police Constable Wells informs me

that he observed you this afternoon

at the late Mrs McGinty's cottage.

Oh?

You were impersonating

a rag-and-bone dealer.

I certainly was not.

- I was collecting for the church.

- Is that so?

If you don't believe me,

I suggest you ring the vicar...

..now!

Look, Miss Marple, in the past you've

been of some small help

to the police and we're grateful,

but at the trial you interfered

with the course of justice.

I'd feel a lot easier in my mind

and so would the Chief Constable,

if you would promise me here and now

not to continue to do so.

You can have that promise freely.

I have no intention of interfering

with the course of justice.

Yes.

Well, good.

- There's no more to be said then.

- No.

- I'll say good night.

- Good night.

Yes.

Perhaps we should have

confided our suspicions.

Certainly not.

That man has just

thrown down the gauntlet.

You know what the police are.

The month of September 1951...

This reference to a rose...

These things must have a great

significance for our man or woman.

I suppose so.

The difficulty is,

the Cosgood Players have moved on.

I read they were at

the Palace Theatre over at Halford.

There is no doubt in my mind

that one of these play actors

is a murderer.

If you're really convinced

of your theory,

I suppose we should

in some way, well, act.

Act!

Of course, why not?

That's what I must do.

After all, nothing ventured,

nothing gained.

Take our bags to the YMCA, Jim.

If I'm successful,

I'll collect mine from you later.

I think I ought to wait, Miss Marple.

No, this may take some time.

Au revoir.

All I know is that we had over 300

and now we've got nothing.

Where is it? It's a simple question.

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David Pursall

David spent his early life in Erdington (England), the son of an accountant; he was always interested in writing and had two murder mystery novels published by the time he was sixteen. So, on leaving school, he took an apprenticeship as a journalist and became a reporter working on a local Birmingham newspaper. His ambition was to move to London to work on a national newspaper but with the threat of war looming, he joined the Royal Service Voluntary Reserve of the Fleet Air Arm as a trainee pilot before taking an officer's course at The Greenwich Naval College. During the Second World War he spent the first three years flying, winning a DSC for bravery and then transferred to the Admiralty Press Division. It was whilst he was stationed in Sydney that he met Captain Anthony Kimmins, the well-known broadcaster on naval affairs, who inspired him to work in the film industry. In 1947, settling in London, he eventually landed a post as Publicity Director for The Rank Organization and, in collaboration with the iconic portrait photographer Cornel Lucas, handled the press relations for Rank film stars, some of those he mentioned include : Jean Simmons, Petula Clark, Diana Dors, Joan Collins, Jill Ireland and Brigitte Bardot. In 1956, he joined forces with long term writing partner Jack Seddon, basing full time at Pinewood Studios, initially writing a script from his own idea Tomorrow Never Comes (1978). However, the plot was considered too provocative at that time and it was whilst trying to interest producers in this, that David and Jack were commissioned to write the script for Count Five and Die (1957); and it took twenty-one years' before Tomorrow Never Comes (1978), was made. Continuing later as a freelance film and TV scriptwriter, David worked mainly on war and murder mystery themes; his last movie made for TV was Black Arrow in 1985, a 15th century historical war drama. He worked constantly, and together with the titles listed, there were many more commissioned scripts, treatments, and original stories developed which never reached the sound stage. He also tried his hand at writing for the theatre, worked for a short time in Bollywood, took his tape recorder to the front line in Israel for a documentary on the Six Day War, and later became a Film and TV adviser; he also continued to write newspaper articles. David lived the good life; a popular, charismatic conversationalist, an idea's man, who enjoyed travelling the world circumnavigating twice, partying, theatergoing, watching night shooting at Pinewood Studios, finishing The Daily Telegraph cryptic crossword daily and driving fast cars; as well as helping the aspiring young achieve success in their careers in film and the media. Aged 69, he announced from his hospital bed, that as he'd written everything there was to write, it was his time to go. He left behind a devoted wife and a daughter. more…

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Submitted on August 05, 2018

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