Murder in Three Acts Page #5

Yes, I'm sure you liked.

I think even I still like it.

So why is left without telling me?

Maybe he thought it was best.

Is the assassination of Babbington.

Sure.

So went. He is very upset.

Babbington's death, perhaps.

But I remember Miss,

there was no murder.

Sure it was.

I thought he was on our side.

Poirot, not only part of a thing.

On behalf of the truth.

Ah. Hastings, my faithful native guide.

Poirot do not have much time. Hello, Egg.

Good morning.

And returns to Los Angeles?

If I expect my editor.

Ah, of course.. His memoirs.

- If.

Listen..

Charles, has a home in Los Angeles

, in Bel Air, I think.

If I see him, I'll give

her warmest regards.

Just tell me

has left a terrible disappointment.

Or better, tell him I'm very desolate.

Desolate. Are you sure?

- Yes.

Okay, be desolate. Let's go.

Vamonos.

A pleasure.

Back, you'll see.

Y prove that you are wrong. It was murder.

Los Angeles, California. Two weeks after.

Poirot.

Hello, Monsieur Poirot. I'm Egg,

Hastings is with me, greet him.

Hello, friend.. How's that book?

Tell Hastings words that flow from my pen.

Says that words flow from his pen.

Glad to hear it.

Charles has seen already.

No, I'm afraid I've been busy.

Well, when you see him, tell him

something strange is happening here.

So we called.

Hastings and I met and discovered...

...who invited us, this

night, to the same party.

At Dr. Strange.

The others, apparently.

Who are the others?

All who were at the party of Charles.

The Dayton,

Angela Stafford, Janet Crisp.

All except you and Charles,

and perhaps, Ricardo.

Weirdest thing..

Is that Dr. Strange did not say to.

Not for dinner?

Yes, but when I called was evasive.

Said there would be a

surprise, a revelation.

Maybe someone will come out of a cake.

Bites you not you curious?

No, no. Sorry, but no.

For me, yes.

Maybe it's time to reveal

the motive for the murder.

Babbington.

Not find any reason simply

because there was no murder.

Now, please, if you'll

excuse me I have to write...

...my book.

Is a grueling job, I have

no time even to sleep...

...Terrible.

Yes, my greetings to

Hastings, the tourist beach.

Goodbye, goodbye.

Oh, Jesus.

The place was ominous. Do not believe?

Please do not start poking

around in the background...

...others.

Hunger Nothing takes more than a polite

murder charge.

I could not taste or a bite.

Oh, come, come.

Egg, How are you?

Daisy, you're here, late as usual.

Hastings.

How are you?

Is a pity that Mr. Poirot

not come. How is your book?

Great, says the words..

As said? Flow.

Flow from his pen, Yeah?

Flow?

What can you say about a man 25 years

detective work?

No, I want more.

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