♪ ALAN: Chapter Seven: A Secret Never to Be Told.

♪ SUSAN: He didn't want to write detective stories, and that's the simple truth of it.

Why does anyone kill anyone?

I can think of four reasons: fear, envy, anger, and desire.

Bella!

Here, girl!

OSBORNE: Robert left the cemetery the moment the service ended.

He didn't even say goodbye to his father.

SUSAN: There was a copy at your brother's house the day you went to see him, and it wasn't there after you left.

CLAIRE: I burned it.

LEE: I wrote to someone at Clover Books, sent them some chapters.

Name was Jemima.

SUSAN: Have you spoken to Jemima?

Why did she leave?

She got another job.

(weakly): You never knew love because of us.

We've got nothing to say.

I'm sorry.

ANDREAS: I thought I was going to Crete with you and that we'd finally be happy together.

But I was wrong.

(door closes) ♪ ♪ (thunder claps) (whimpers) (click) ♪ ♪ YOUNG ROBERT: Mummy!

Mummy!

MARY: I'm up here.

YOUNG ROBERT: Mummy!

Mummy!

We can't find Bella!

Well, where have you looked?

SAM: We've been everywhere.

We've been in the gardens, out behind the hall-- we've been to the lake.

Have you asked Mr. Brent?

He won't help us.

He doesn't like Bella.

Why don't you try Dingle Dell?

She often goes there.

Yeah!

♪ Bella!

Bella!

Bella!

BOTH (calling): Bella!

♪ SAM: Here, girl!

Bella!

Here, girl!

♪ (birds calling, wings flapping) YOUNG ROBERT: There she is.

SAM: Oh, no.

(flies buzzing) ♪ ♪ ♪ (sheep bleating) MATTHEW: How did you find me, Mr. Pünd?

PÜND: Oh, it was the Reverend Osborne in Saxby-on-Avon, he gave me your address.

Oh.

You're investigating Mary's death?

No, Mr. Blakiston, I am investigating the murder of her employer, Sir Magnus Pye.

Well, then, you're wasting your time.

I can't help you.

I'm not even sure that I'd want to.

You were no friend of Sir Magnus?

He took everything I ever loved.

When he offered Mary the job at Pye Hall, he sucked her into his orbit.

She worshipped him.

He was an aristocrat, local squire.

She trusted him with everything.

And suddenly there was no more room for me.

When did you last see her?

Ten years ago.

Oh, but still, you went to her funeral.

Of course I did-- I loved her.

Before the accident, before Sam died, we'd been happy together.

She weren't an easy woman, I grant you that, but when we first got married, setting up our first home, oh, those were wonderful days.

And then you lost your son.

I was away with the R.A.F.

at the time.

Mary blamed me for that.

Maybe she was right.

Although I'm not sure what I could have done.

Who do you blame?

I suppose I could blame Sir Magnus.

He was the one who set up those treasure hunts.

He hid the coin that could have drawn my boy into the water.

And I suppose that might have given me a reason to kill him, if that's what you're thinking.

Although you might wonder why I waited 12 years.

And what of Brent?

The groundsman?

(chuckles) He was close by-- he could have kept an eye out.

He was the one who found Sam.

Although by then, it was far too late.

MATTHEW: I suppose he did what he could.

Robert saw them just as they was coming out, and he charged into the water, too.

♪ YOUNG ROBERT: Sam.

(Brent panting) Sam!

Sam!

MATTHEW: I'm not sure Robert ever recovered from what he saw that day.

In what way?

His relationship with Mary.

Turning his back on me.

You have my sympathies, Mr. Blakiston, but sir, I have to ask, is that the reason you chose not to speak to your own son at his mother's funeral?

What good would it have done?

I'd been out of his life for far too long now.

And anyway, the two of us was never that close.

He was always a very quiet boy.

Kept himself to himself.

To be honest, I was closer to Sam.

Did the two of them get on?

Well, they fought, like all young boys.

There were jealousies.

But I'd say yes.

And what of Robert and his mother?

Everything changed after the accident.

To lose a child is so terrible.

I suppose she became overprotective with the one that was left.

Suddenly, she was all over him.

Never let him out of her sight.

Thank you, Mr. Blakiston.

Oh, um, what can you tell me about Bella?

The dog?

Somebody poisoned her.

It was quite deliberate-- rat poison.

We always assumed it was Brent.

He hated the dog.

He was always complaining about it.

Sam was devastated.

Why Sam in particular?

Well, it was his dog.

I'd bought her for him for his ninth birthday.

♪ If you ask me, everything about Pye Hall is cursed.

The dog killed, the little boy drowned, Mary Blakiston, Sir Magnus.

If you want the truth, I don't want to spend another minute there.

You may have your wish, James.

We need to meet with Detective Inspector Chubb, but after that, we will be returning at once to London.

Don't tell me.

You know who did it!

Matthew Blakiston provided the last piece of the jigsaw.

Well, then, do tell me, I want to know.

We have a long drive.

SUSAN: "'We have a long drive.

I will explain it all.'"

It's so infuriating because he never did.

So you're no closer?

No.

I'm sorry, Charles, it's all gone.

All the notes, everything.

And Claire Jenkins had a copy, but she destroyed it.

And that's the closest I got.

Well, full marks for trying.

(chuckles) (chuckles) There's, uh, something I need to tell you, Susan.

I've approached Peter Kinsale of Harper Collins for the position of C.E.O.

Ah.

Cityworld couldn't wait any longer.

They've asked me to explore the field.

You know how much I want you to take the job.

I couldn't leave the company in better hands, but I can't risk the investors walking away.

What did Peter say?

He had some interesting ideas.

He suggested Sophie Hannah be brought in to finish "Magpie Murders."

Oh, you told him about the book.

Oh, I had to.

Without "Magpie Murders," there's no deal.

Well, yeah, Sophie's a good idea.

And she did a great job with Poirot.

That's what I thought.

Does she know who did it?

She's reading it now.

Ah, so this...

Sounds like a done deal.

Nothing's been agreed.

There's still time.

No, uh...

I think you've made the right decision.

I think we both have.

We have worked together how many years?

Oh... (laughs) Too many.

(chuckles) How long would it all take?

They'll need to make an announcement soon.

(clicks tongue) (chuckles) She wants to use my title, by the way.

I'm sorry?

Sophie.

She likes "The Magpie Murders."

Not "Magpie Murders."

I suppose we'll never know why Alan got so upset.

(exhales) (door opens and closes) ♪ ♪ Not "The Magpie Murders," "Magpie Murders."

That's the bloody title!

TAYLOR: "Catupnudist," one word.

It's an anagram of Atticus Pünd.

Alan loved anagrams.

SUSAN: Darnley, D-A-R-N-L-E-Y.

It's an anagram of Ryeland-- it's us!

♪ (murmuring) "Anagram."

An anagram.

ALICE: I'm off, Susan-- is that okay?

(gasps) Yeah.

I've got my checkup at 5:00.

Oh, yes, hope it goes okay.

Oh, thanks-- oh, by the way, Jemima said hello.

Jemima?

Have you seen her?

I bumped into her at the station a couple of nights ago.

We're going to meet next week.

Ah.

Alice, Alice!

Have you got a number for her?

(people talking in background) Hey, Chris.

Hey.

(door closes) Can you do me a favor?

Sure, what is it?

Well... My friend was sent an email, but we don't know who it came from.

Mm-hmm.

I forward it to myself, but I, I need to know the source.

Well, that's easy, just look at the metadata.

I don't know what that means.

(chuckles) I'll do it.

Okay, so... That's your original I.P.

Put it into MX Toolbox, reverse lookup.

And...

There.

It originated from Clover Books.

What?

CHRIS: Hm, nice shot.

♪ SUSAN: It's good of you to come out, Jemima, thank you.

It's nice to see you, Susan.

Are you okay?

Yeah.

(chuckles) I'm starting at Channel Four, P.A.

Oh, that's great.

So, I just wanted to talk to you about the manuscript for "Magpie Murders."

I know.

Charles already emailed me.

But I promise you, it wasn't my fault.

Oh, no, I'm not blaming you.

I photocopied everything Charles gave me.

I can't remember how many pages it was now.

It was over 300.

Yeah.

I'd done a page count, I, I always did.

And you didn't leave it in the machine room?

No, I gave both copies to Charles.

You had just left for Frankfurt, so he said he'd look after it.

Right.

And you didn't read it?

Only the page numbers.

(chuckles) Oh, no, wait a minute, you just said that I'd already left for Frankfurt.

Yeah, Wednesday morning.

No, no, that's not possible, because, well, Alan only gave Charles the manuscript on Thursday night, when they had dinner.

No, it came in the post on Wednesday.

I photocopied it straight away and Charles had it before lunch.

Are you sure?

Yeah.

"Magpie Murders"?

Of course I'm sure.

It was our biggest book.

Charles told me not to tell anyone.

He wanted to surprise you.

Why did you leave so suddenly?

Because Charles asked me to.

He told me that you were the one who wanted to leave.

That's not true.

I told him I was looking around, that I really wanted to work in TV, but when I came in on Friday morning, he just said it would be better for both of us if I left at once.

He paid me a month's wages.

That was it.

(softly): Well... ♪ (sirens wailing in distance) (door buzzes, lock clicks) (door closes) ♪ ♪ (door closes) (softly): Yes, yes, yes, yes, yes.

(door opens) Susan?

What are you doing?

(door closes) I thought everyone had gone.

I, I left something, so I... Ah.

I see you found it.

Yes, the missing chapter.

You had it all along.

I can explain-- if, if you'll let me.

I think you should.

Would you like a whiskey?

Oh, just a small one.

Very good.

You must understand everything I've done is for the company.

I had to protect us.

See... (spluttering) Oh, God, it, it's not easy to explain!

Well, then, why don't you let me?

Why don't we start last Wednesday, when I was in Frankfurt?

That was when the manuscript actually arrived.

It was sent to you in the post.

You read it before your dinner with Alan on Thursday night.

That's right.

You sent Jemima away.

You told her to leave because you didn't want her to tell me that you'd already read it.

Well, she was leaving anyway.

Well... (chuckles) The dinner with Alan was, was horrible, he was drunk.

Drunk and threatening-- you have no idea.

(loudly): I'm fed up with it all!

I'm fed up with Atticus (muted) Pünd.

You don't know how long I've been waiting to do him in!

(softly): Alan, please.

SUSAN: That same evening, he wrote you a letter, effectively apologizing for his behavior.

The letter was handwritten.

Yes, it was.

But an apology wasn't enough, was it?

On Saturday evening, you drove up to Abbey Grange... Ah, incidentally, you gave yourself away about that.

I should have spotted it.

I'm sorry, what do you mean?

Well, when we drove up for the funeral, you were very helpful.

SUSAN: Don't worry, Charles, we will get there.

Find the pages, save the company.

Turn right here, you want to avoid the roadworks.

SUSAN: You knew about the roadworks well before we got to them.

But a few days earlier, I'd asked you a question.

That house of his, Abbey Grange, when was the last time you saw it?

Oh, I haven't been to Suffolk for five or six months.

He changed the name, did you know that?

Five or six months.

You were doing everything you could to distance yourself from the scene of the crime.

But you were lying, because you knew about the roadworks.

I should have guessed.

Are you accusing me of Alan's murder?

(laughs) First, that's ridiculous.

Nobody needed him alive more than me.

Apart from anything else, I needed that last chapter... Well, we'll get to that in a minute, if that's all right with you.

So once you arrived, you, you parked your car out of sight.

As it happens, Andreas got there ahead of you, and he was with Alan.

♪ (car door closes softly) ♪ (phone camera clicking) SUSAN: And that was when you took the photo.

You sent it to me because you didn't want me to investigate.

You thought I'd give up if I believed Andreas was involved.

We've known each other for so many years, Charles.

How could you be so cruel?

I was afraid for you, Susan.

I'll admit that.

Going up there, blundering in, with no idea what was at stake.

Okay, well, then, let's... Let's talk about the stakes, shall we?

The sale to Cityworld Media.

Your beloved publishing company.

All those shares, the millions of pounds you were going to be paid.

And he was going to destroy it all.

Yes!

Because he hated writing murder mysteries.

(chuckles) He hated Atticus Pünd.

He thought he was better than that.

Alan Conway wanted to be Salman Rushdie or Hilary Mantel.

It's, it's extraordinary, really, because the more successful he was, the more miserable he became.

He was ludicrous.

But then he was diagnosed with a terminal disease and that changed everything.

He didn't need money anymore.

Fame wasn't going to help, and actually, it disgusted him.

But he'd always had this idea that one day, he'd destroy Atticus Pünd.

Give him his own version of the Reichenbach Falls, and one that the literary world would never forget.

In fact...

It was built into the books.

"Atticus Pünd Investigates," "No Rest for the Wicked," "Atticus Pünd Takes the Case."

The first letters spell out "an anagram."

Of course, it only works if the last book is called "Magpie Murders," and not "The Magpie Murders."

Yes, Alan did tell me that.

But an anagram of what?

You know, I only worked it out on the way here.

Go on.

Do I need to?

You already know it.

It's what he told you when he got drunk over dinner in that fancy restaurant.

What Alan wanted was to destroy the books, to make them valueless, because that's what he always thought they were.

And this was his torpedo.

The actual name of his detective, Atticus Pünd.

Mm.

He knew what he was doing from the very beginning.

Oh, yeah, he'd already jumbled up the letters to make "catupnudist."

But there was a second, much worse anagram, wasn't there?

Do tell.

Three words.

The first is...

"A."

The second is...

"Stupid."

And that leaves a four-letter word.

And one of the worst.

One of the most offensive in the English language.

If people had found out, if people had realized that this was Atticus Pünd, well, it wasn't just the last book that was at stake, it was the entire series, and you could forget about any deal with Cityworld Media, and you would have lost millions.

And that, Charles, is why you had to kill him.

Ah.

You're not going to deny it?

I tried to dissuade him.

We went up to the tower.

You mean, you persuaded him to take you.

Well, he, he liked to show off the view.

CHARLES: But Alan, for God's sake, your books have brought pleasure to millions of people.

Not to me.

Oh, God, I can't believe that you've been planning this all along.

I mean, it's crazy!

Actually, it kept me sane.

It reminded me of the rubbish it actually was.

But you'll destroy my company, my staff, my other authors.

What makes you think I give a damn?

Oh, you go to hell, Alan-- go to hell!

(screaming) (body hits ground, breath trembling) ♪ Ooh.

(exhales): Do you mind if I have another?

No, go ahead.

You?

No, I'm all right.

But killing him wasn't enough, was it?

You needed a cover story.

You'd read the book.

You'd seen something in the final chapter that you could use.

But you had to make sure no one else ever read it.

So you cleared out Alan's office, taking all his notes and earlier drafts.

But also, the real prize: a handwritten draft of the final chapter.

The book finishes with a suicide letter.

Not from Alan Conway, from Atticus Pünd-- that's how the book ends.

He has a degenerative disease, so he decides to take his own life.

"By the time you read this, it will all be finished.

"I have achieved great success in a life that has gone on "long enough.

I have left you some notes with regard..." "...to my condition and the decision I have made."

Does that even sound like him?

Alan clearly wasn't himself.

I'm an editor, I, I really should have trusted my instincts.

"With regard to my condition."

It's a little... Stilted.

Old-fashioned.

That wasn't Alan's voice.

It was Pünd's.

It's Atticus Pünd writing about the fact that he has very little time left.

He's dying.

And that's what you needed.

I found this.

It's from Alan.

It's a suicide note.

SUSAN: The first half of the letter was the apology.

The second half was taken from the book.

Together, they told exactly the story you wanted: remorse and then resignation.

There's just one small detail you hoped nobody would notice.

But you of course did.

Yes.

The letter was handwritten, but you had to find an old envelope.

And the envelope was typed.

Meaning the whole thing had been faked.

Exactly.

Well, you seem to have put it all together, Susan.

And I must congratulate you.

But it does beg one question, doesn't it?

(places bottle down) What happens now?

What do you mean?

Are you going to turn me in?

No!

I don't need to be involved.

I think it would be much better all round if you call the police yourself.

You realize they'll send me to prison.

I'll get life.

I won't come out.

Yes, Charles, that's what happens when you commit murder.

I thought you might make some allowances.

As you yourself said, we, we've known each other for a long time!

It seems I didn't know you at all.

Would you allow me at least to spend the evening at home with my family, before I make the call?

If you don't call them tomorrow, then I will.

But yes, you need to explain everything to Elaine.

Elaine.

Yes.

(inhales deeply) I'm going to miss all this.

I'm sorry.

Are you?

You seem more self-righteous to me.

You can think what you like-- I'm leaving.

Good night, Susan.

(Charles grunts, Susan yelps) ♪ Why did you have to be so bloody obstinate?

(groans) I didn't want you looking for the missing pages.

I don't care about the missing book.

Oh, Jesus Christ, Charles.

All I was doing was protecting myself, and my family, and my future.

Charles, no.

(breathlessly): And that's what I'm doing now.

You made me!

(weakly): Charles, no!

Charles... Charles, what are you doing?!

Please, Charles.

(Susan groans) Oh, Charles... ♪ I'm sorry, Susan, I really am.

Charles-- Charles!

Please!

I gave you a chance.

(panting) You should have taken it!

(gasps) ♪ (objects clattering, glass shattering) (fire crackling inside) (glass breaking) (panting) (coughing weakly) (breathing heavily) (gasps, groans) (coughing) (panting) (coughs, groaning) (panting) (coughing) (panting slows, audio distorts) (man murmuring, Susan coughing) (footsteps approaching slowly) ANDREAS: Susan!

Susan!

Andreas.

(coughing) Can you get to your feet?

Yes.

(weakly): It was Charles.

It was Charles.

That's all right, come on.

(Susan coughing) KATIE: You're awake.

Thank God.

(weakly): Katie... Andreas called and told me what happened.

I came down at once.

Where is Andreas?

He won't be long.

Are you all right, Sue?

Do you want me to call the doctor?

No.

Where's Charles?

He was arrested.

Andreas saw him coming out of the building, and...

He killed Alan.

(clears throat) It's unbelievable.

Mm.

Am I...?

(winces): Ooh.

No, you're all right.

The doctors have looked at you.

You're going to be fine.

(coughs) How are you, Katie?

How's Dad?

(softly): Let's not talk about that now.

No, no, I want to know.

Dad's gone.

I didn't want to tell you.

No, it's...

Better that you did.

♪ (siren blaring in distance) SUSAN (voiceover): Sorry.

You don't have to say that.

I should never have got involved in all of this.

You told me not to.

(coughing) Here.

(coughing) Mm...

It's the smoke, it... (coughs) It's done something to my lungs.

(coughs) The doctor said...

I know, I know, they told me.

Mm, thank you.

You're welcome.

Thank you.

(sighs) Why were you there, Andreas?

At the office?

I was looking for you, of course-- why else?

I, I found out that the photograph you were sent came from Clover Books and I was worried.

What I said to you... Will you ever forgive me?

I already have.

How could I have possibly believed even for a minute that...

Doesn't matter-- doesn't matter.

It's all behind us now.

(chuckles) I want to talk about Crete.

I just wish it wasn't Alan's money in the hotel, but...

I'm not going.

Oh, yes, you are.

And I'm going with you.

(laughs) You're not feeling well.

(laughing) You're hallucinating.

(laughing): I am not-- yes.

Okay, we'll, we'll talk about it when you're better, hm?

Hm.

Hm.

(chuckles) ♪ ♪ Ah.

I was wondering when you were going to show up.

How are you feeling?

Awful.

I mucked everything up.

I accused Andreas and I nearly got myself killed.

You're being too hard on yourself.

You solved the crime.

The killer has been apprehended.

I would say you have done remarkably well.

(chuckles) I'll take that as a compliment, coming from you.

The missing chapter?

Yes.

You have read it?

Not yet.

I've read the last pages with the letter, but not the solution.

I'm not sure I'm quite up to it.

"Magpie Murders."

You solved them.

The detective will always solve the crime as sure as day will follow the night.

In the world in which I exist, this is an immutable fact.

Ah, yes, the certainty.

That's why people love you.

You wish to know the answer?

Are you kidding?

That's all I want to know.

Then come with me.

Now?

You are too busy?

(laughs) (birds twittering) ♪ Where are we going?

The Queen's Arms public house.

And who are we meeting?

It was Joy Sanderling who first came to me for help.

And it is she who must hear what I have to say.

My friends are waiting.

Hm?

♪ PÜND: Detective Inspector, James.

Are we ready?

We are, indeed.

You asked me to come to Saxby-on-Avon on account of one death, Miss Sanderling.

That was the death of Mary Blakiston just one day after her son Robert had been overheard threatening her.

I didn't threaten her.

(chuckles): But that is how it was construed.

I never touched her.

I know that.

I know exactly how your mother died.

It was an accident.

That's not what you told me, Pünd.

(quietly): You said Lady Frances killed her.

Oh, she did.

Inadvertently.

You will recall that she told us that she telephoned Mrs. Blakiston on the very day of her death.

It was, I believe, the telephone call that was responsible.

Uh, for she also told us something else.

This is Atticus Pünd.

He's a well-known investigator.

(telephone ringing in distance) Would you take that, darling?

The telephones don't work upstairs.

Nothing works in this house.

It's just one thing after another.

PÜND (voiceover): We know that Mary Blakiston was vacuuming at the top of the stairs.

Let us imagine that the telephone rings.

(telephone ringing) I rang her the morning she died, and when she didn't answer, I thought there must be something wrong.

(Mary exhales) (vacuum stops) PÜND (voiceover): She cannot answer it in the bedroom.

She has to hurry downstairs, and in her haste, her foot becomes entangled in the wire.

(Mary cries out, telephone ringing) (yelping) (neck snaps) (ringing continues) So Robert had nothing to do with it.

Exactly.

I knew it.

(hands clasp) What about the death of Sir Magnus?

That is indeed the question.

The answer is that the two deaths were inextricably linked.

One led directly to the other.

But there is a third death, also, that we must consider, a death that took place 12 years ago.

Sam.

Yes.

That is where this story begins.

A lodge house, a room with a view.

Collar of a dog that has been killed.

Two brothers.

MATTHEW: He was always a very quiet boy.

Kept himself to himself.

To be honest, I was closer to Sam.

And did the two of them get on?

Well, they fought like all young boys.

There were jealousies.

But I'd say yes.

PÜND: I spoke to your father.

When?

PÜND: This morning.

He gave me an image of two brothers who were jealous of one another and sometimes came to blows.

The younger one was given a dog, Bella.

Bella!

Here, girl!

The last one to the lake's a rotten egg!

Keep up, Bella!

(laughing) ♪ PÜND: A terrible thing happened to this dog.

She was poisoned, it seems deliberately.

ROBERT: That was Brent.

PÜND: Why, then, did your mother keep the collar in the drawer in the room in which she worked all those years?

What was it that she wished to be reminded of?

I don't understand why you're asking this.

PÜND: I'm trying only to understand the character of your mother.

For there was something else that was told me by your father.

Everything changed after the accident.

Suddenly she was all over him.

Never let him out of her sight.

What was it that changed?

Why?

Before it would seem that, uh, your mother was not close to you, Robert.

But afterwards, you became almost her prisoner.

I was!

Your father assumed that it was because she was afraid to lose you.

But could it be that she knew what you had done and she was afraid that you might do it again?

What are you talking about?

I'm talking about the fact that as a child, Robert Blakiston was disturbed to the extent that he killed a dog that had been given to his brother, and later, in a fit of jealousy or anger, he drowned that brother in the lake at Pye Hall, an act seen by his mother from the window in the room in which she worked, the one room in the house that had a view of the water.

JOY: No, that's wrong.

That's ridiculous.

You believe so?

Then I will ask you two questions.

Why was there a need for Robert to throw himself into the water when Brent, carrying his brother, had almost reached dry land?

ROBERT: Well, I was 14 years old.

I didn't know what I was doing.

I think you knew exactly what you were doing.

You were disguising the fact that you were already soaking wet.

♪ And my second question.

Why was Mrs. Blakiston so opposed to the idea of you marrying her son?

I told you.

PÜND: Oh, no.

You told me, Miss Sanderling, what you believed to be the case, but perhaps you were mistaken.

No.

I'm sorry?

MARY: You are not going to marry my son.

Mum!

MARY: I'm thinking about future generations.

They can't be tainted.

I won't have it.

JOY: You're not being serious.

You can't think that.

MARY: I won't even discuss it.

Now, I'm warning you, Robert.

This marriage will not go ahead.

♪ "So future generations cannot be tainted."

You believed that Mrs. Blakiston was referring to you in a way that was truly reprehensible.

But suppose her words were in fact addressed to her son Robert.

Suppose that she was afraid that he might poison you and your future family with the same madness that had led him to kill his own brother.

ROBERT: No, this is all just words!

You're just making stuff up!

You can't prove a word of it!

PÜND: When there is only one explanation that makes sense, then that is all the proof that you require.

No, I've had enough of this.

Oh, no, no-- you're staying.

Go on, Mr. Pünd.

(quietly): Yes, go on!

PÜND: Let us now enter the mind of Mary Blakiston.

She has a son whom she knows to be dangerous.

She watches him, never lets him out of her sight.

But she also fears for her own safety.

What will she do should he ever turn on her?

What can she do to protect herself?

(whispers): She writes a letter.

She writes a letter, explaining how Sam was killed.

Also, what happened to Bella.

She reveals that her older son is dangerously disturbed.

And she gives it to the one man she trusts.

Indeed, whom she reveres.

Sir Magnus Pye.

It is a letter to be kept secure only to be opened should anything untoward happen to her.

She tells her son what she has done, and now she has no need to fear him.

Sir Magnus places it in the safe and there it remains.

Until her death.

Until the accident occurs.

Mary Blakiston dies just one day after her son has threatened her.

And it is at her funeral Robert realizes he's in danger.

You remember, James, what the Reverend Osborne told us.

He said that Robert became very upset.

No, no, no, no, it was more than that.

OSBORNE: So, although we're here today to mourn her departure, we must also remember what she left behind.

♪ No... No!

"We must also remember what she left behind."

What she had left behind was a letter which identified Robert as the killer of his brother all those years before.

It would have destroyed his life in the village.

It would have ended, Miss Sanderling, his relationship with you.

So he tried to steal it.

Exactly.

He broke into Pye Hall the same night in an attempt to find the letter before Sir Magnus returned from his holiday.

(Chubb snaps fingers) But he couldn't open the safe!

(stammering): That's why he faked the burglary!

He stole the silver, he got rid of it in the lake, dropping the two pieces that Brent later found.

Then, Sir Magnus came home.

Robert arranged to meet him and... We can imagine what occurred.

But she was wrong, sir, you've got to believe me!

But you threatened her.

Half the village heard it.

And the very next day... That wasn't me!

You wanted her dead.

You said so.

And everyone heard you.

PYE: I have to say, Robert, I am sickened.

I think you ought to leave.

I believed in you.

Tried to help you.

(gasps) (head thuds, rolls) (body drops) PÜND (voiceover): After that, there was but one thing to do.

He returned to the study, burned the incriminating letter, at the same time transferring some of Sir Magnus's blood onto the page.

But, in his haste, he made an error.

On the desk, I saw it at once.

♪ SUSAN: A typed letter in a handwritten envelope.

He burned the letter that his mother had written, but he also burned the typed envelope containing the threatening letter that Clarissa Pye had delivered, leaving behind the envelope with the handwriting I later recognized as Mary Blakiston's.

Does this not tell you a great deal about the murder of Sir Magnus?

It's not what is written.

It is how it is written.

That is where the solution can be found.

The same handwriting.

It told me almost everything I needed to know.

♪ Is this true, Robert?

It is, isn't it?

(breath trembles) (softly): Oh, God...

I did it for you.

For us.

What else could I do?

ROBERT: I love you.

I just wanted to be with you.

♪ CHUBB: Better come with me.

(exhales) ♪ (birds twittering) SUSAN: I have to say, you were on top form back there.

(chuckles) You're too kind.

No, seriously.

It'll make for a bestseller, I'm sure of it.

Is that what matters to you?

Not so much anymore.

I'm leaving publishing.

I'm going to Crete.

Oh.

(chuckles) I think you'll be happy there.

I hope so.

(magpies chittering) Do you know what happens to you at the end of the book?

Hm.

I knew it from the start.

I'm sorry.

Oh, there's no need to be.

There are eight books.

Nine now.

(chuckles) I'll not be forgotten, at least for a time.

No, I mean I'm sorry because... Well, I suppose it means I won't see you again.

We have separate paths to follow, Miss Ryeland.

I've asked you not to call me that.

It's been a pleasure.

For me, too.

Goodbye, Atticus.

Goodbye, Susan.

♪ (magpies chittering) ♪ (click) ♪ ANNOUNCER: Go to our website, listen to our podcast, watch video, and more.

To order this program, visit ShopPBS.

"Masterpiece" is available with PBS Passport and on Amazon Prime Video.

♪ ♪ ANTHONY HOROWITZ: So here we are now at the end of the show, and the solution has been revealed.

And my hope is that people who have watched it, whether they guess the ending or not, will at least agree that all the clues were out there in plain sight, because that, to me, is the most important thing.

That the writer cannot cheat the audience.

At the same time, they shouldn't feel too bad if they didn't-- I never solve murder mysteries when I watch them, for what it's worth.

In this show, we did have some problems-- for example, obviously, there are anagrams which are part of the solution.

And we made sure in the filming that, for example, the titles of the books have been visible many, many times.

At Frankfurt Book Fair at the beginning, in the offices in London.

I think in Alan's study.

SUSAN: The first letters spell out "an anagram."

HOROWITZ: I have worked with the director and with the DP and with the producers to make sure that anything that is important, any detail, has been on the screen.

Two of us was never that close.

He was always a very quiet boy, kept himself to himself.

PÜND: Matthew Blakiston provided the last piece of the jigsaw.

WOMAN: Scene two, take one, A mark.

HOROWITZ: I do love visiting the set, although it's an interesting fact that the only person on a set who has absolutely nothing to do and no reason to be there is the writer.

My work has been done months before, but I still love to go there because it's an extraordinary thought.

Like the funeral sequences-- all these people, the church, the graveyard, the magpies, the crew, they're all there because of something that started in my head, and I just can't get my thoughts around that.

It's such an extraordinary experience and a feeling, to be there.

MAN: Action!

HOROWITZ: I like to make cameo appearances in my own shows, if possible.

I'm a great admirer of Alfred Hitchcock, and so I do miniature appearances in many of my shows.

In "Foyle's War," I've been, I think, a dead body, man reading a newspaper, and man buying socks in the black market.

I did do a day on "Magpie Murders."

I'm at one of the funerals.

Why do I enjoy it?

I suppose...

It's not egotism, it's just fun.

It's going into the world that I created and being a part of it, that's really what it's about.

And I suppose it also blurs the line between fiction and reality, which is what this program is all about.

SUSAN: I'm going to go to Suffolk and look for the missing pages.

I am very lucky to spend a lot of time in the county of Suffolk, which is about two hours from London, and which is a very, very beautiful part of England.

One of the things that makes it so beautiful are the villages, and there are many of them which are hundreds of years old, which haven't changed too much over the years, which provide perfect settings for murder mysteries such as ours.

And we drove into Kersey and knew at once that it was absolutely perfect for Saxby-on-Avon because it has that long road with the ford going across the middle of it.

It has the church dominating the whole village on the top of the hill.

It had the houses that could become antique shops and butcher shops and bakeries.

And I think that what's important for us is that it's a sort of a world of its own, that once you arrive at Kersey, or Saxby-on-Avon, or whatever you want to call it, you sort of feel you've come home.

You know, the villagers really were very kind to us and very helpful with the shooting.

We had a fantastic time there.

We're very happy to share this beautiful place with the rest of the world.

PÜND: The detective will always solve the crime, as sure as day will follow the night.

In the world in which I exist, this is an immutable fact.

Ah, yes, the certainty.

That's why people love you.

You wish to know the answer?

Are you kidding?

That's all I want to know.

HOROWITZ: If you ask me what makes episode six of "Magpie Murders" special, it's the wrap.

Because the wrap is the moment we've all been waiting for.

You know, when all the clues work, when all the characters come together.

Does everything sort of fit into place?

PÜND: It's not what is written, it is how it is written.

That is where the solution can be found.

HOROWITZ: And it's interesting, though, that the idea of sort of the suspects all gathered together, and the detective holding forth, was something suggested to Agatha Christie by her publishers.

She wasn't going to do it originally, but they decided that was what people would like to read.

And I think it does have a real sense of satisfaction when you get to that scene, and everything is sort of spelled out for you.

And of course, what we do, which is really unusual, is, we put the modern character, Susan, into the middle of it.

And this was a thought I had quite late in the day, that she would leave her hospital bed and, as it were, hold Atticus Pünd's hand and be taken back in time and into this fictional world to be a sort of a ghost-like figure herself, watching the action from the sidelines and even commenting occasionally to Atticus as she guesses what he's about to say.

It was lovely to watch Leslie Manville in her nightie walking through this village in the middle of the day with a 1950s detective.

Really very strange, very surreal, and for me, very special.

♪