CHARACTERS

5 F, 4 M, one M dead body

Miss Jane Marble, amateur sleuth
The Revd. Dr Dean D. Dean, D.D., Dean of St Mary Mead
Barbi, the Dean's mini-skirted and unconventional wife
Natasha, the Russian au pair
Inspector Titus Tyte-Canby
Mrs Ginn-Sodden, neighbour of Miss Marble
The Revd. Jonas Nutt, mad curate
The Revd. Alex Pacey, Vicar
Dr "Fishy" Haddock, G P
General Stick-Monocle, the Body

Set: interior, Deanery study.

Lighting: interior, day.

This is a spoof of an Agatha Christie play and needs to be taken at a good pace. Familiarity with "Murder at the Vicarage" by Christie will help understanding. Running time about 40 minutes.

A beautiful July day, sun streaming in through the windows of the Dean's study. Some furniture and a cupboard UR.

The Dean's wife, young, mini-skirted Barbi, is reading a letter. The Russian au pair, Natasha, is pottering about, pretending to dust. A large number of Harrods parcels is lying on the chair.

BARBI: Oh dear, I don't know what we're going to do about the General.

NATASHA: General Walking-Stick?

BARBI: His name's Stick-Monocle. He's just sent my husband another angry letter about the village fete.

NATASHA: This is why nobody like General?

BARBI: Well, he's arrogant, self-opinionated, thinks the curate's crazy -

NATASHA: But curate, he is crazy.

BARBI: Well, yes, I suppose he is. We'll concede that one.

NATASHA: And something else, Barbi. Curate hold hands with Wicar in willage street.

BARBI: Really?

NATASHA: I see them. Also, curate give Wicar one big snog in car. I see that, too.

BARBI: They need to watch themselves.

NATASHA: Especially if General find out, eh?

BARBI: Yes. The balloon really will go up.

NATASHA: But, Barbi, I still not understand why no-one like General. No worse than Boris Yeltsin.

BARBI: Well, the General is also aloof, out-of-touch, doesn't like me wearing mini-skirts, doesn't like spinsters like Miss Marble -

NATASHA: Neither did Boris Yeltsin.

BARBI: And the General drinks too much.

NATASHA: So did Boris Yeltsin. And some people in Russia say Boris Yeltsin one big swindler. Yet still voted for him.

BARBI: But of course the General is an officer and a gentleman.

NATASHA: So you believe. But maybe not, eh?

BARBI: I hardly think so, Natasha. Everyone round here's very honest. Oh, by the way, if the Dean comes in, say you haven't seen me.

NATASHA: Why?

BARBI: Because I've - er - arranged a little surprise for him.

NATASHA: You borrow his credit card again and go to Harrods?

BARBI: Well, yes, actually, I did.

NATASHA: This is third time this month. Where is surprise in that?

BARBI: The Dean is now overdrawn. That's the surprise. So don't tell him, will you. Now to get these parcels out of the way before the Dean comes in. I've overdrawn his credit card and I don't want him to know about it.

(As she is picking the parcels up, the Dean meanders through the french windows with a watering can which he puts down. He is of uncertain age.)

DEAN: And what shouldn't the Dean know about?

BARBI: Oh, hullo, darling.

DEAN: Been to Harrods again, I see.

BARBI: Just needed one or two things for the village fete, darling. Here's your card back. Retrieves card from down her blouse.

DEAN: You didn't keep it down there when you were at Harrods, I hope?

BARBI: Not until I came out of lingerie. I'd had to put it there for safe keeping in the changing rooms.

DEAN: Really, my dear, I don't know what the parishioners would think.

BARBI: I know what one of them thinks. General Stick-Monocle. He's complaining about the village fete preparations.

DEAN: Oh, well, he's a special case.

BARBI: He should be kept in a special case. He's been on the phone, by the way, complaining about the village fete preparations.

DEAN: He always does. Actually, I thought I saw him on his way here earlier, but he didn't show up.

BARBI: Probably changed his mind.

DEAN: Unless he was taking the short cut to Miss Marble's cottage.

BARBI: Well, I'll just dump these somewhere. (Hastily picks up parcels and exit to dining room.)

DEAN: Oh, Natasha, before I forget, I don't suppose you've seen my paperknife anywhere.

NATASHA: Curate have it, perhaps.

DEAN: Well, actually, he's the one who's been asking for it.

NATASHA: You should not trust him with any kind of knife. He crazy man.

DEAN: He is a little - er - unusual. But it takes all sorts.

NATASHA: Is in cupboard, perhaps?

DEAN: The curate?

NATASHA: Knife!

DEAN: I doubt it ... I'll go and look in the study.

NATASHA: You want I put away water-can?

DEAN: Oh yes, please. You can wash it out for me.

NATASHA (sniffing can): What you put in here? Synthesizer?

DEAN: Synthesizer?

NATASHA: Make plant grow.

DEAN: Oh, fertiliser. No, weed-killer, actually. Paraquat. So be very careful when you wash it out. It's highly poisonous, and there's no remedy. Dr Haddock says so, and he's an authority on poisons.

NATASHA: Why you always call Dr Haddock "Fishy"?

DEAN: A little joke, my dear.

NATASHA: I never understand your English humour. So this stuff you use to bump off enemies, eh?

DEAN: Only those of a vegetable nature, my dear.

NATASHA: Back home in Russia, my father, he is businessman. What you here call Mafia. He have many enemies. What you here call comp - comp -

DEAN: - petitors?

NATASHA: Yes. Maybe I send him some of this parrot cat.

DEAN: Not to bump off his competitors, surely?

NATASHA: Why not? Market forces.

DEAN: Possibly. Well, must go and find that paperknife.

(Dean exits to dining-room. Natasha opens the cupboard door UR. The General's body starts to fall out; she pushes it back in.)

NATASHA: Dostoyevsky!! (Slams door shut and backs against it.)

BARBI (entering from dining room): Natasha, the curate would like to borrow one of the Dean's sermons. (She goes to cupboard, looks at Natasha.) Are you all right? You haven't been overdoing the wodka again, I hope?

NATASHA (trying to keep Barbi away from cupboard): No, no! No look in there! Something horrible.

BARBI: Oh, nonsense! What could possibly be horrible in there? (Opens cupboard; General's body begins to fall out. She pushes it back in.) Wrong again. General Stick-Monocle! How did he get in here?

NATASHA: Is dead?

BARBI (opens door and examines body): Well, there's a bullet hole in his head, the Dean's paperknife in his chest, a nylon stocking - one of mine, I think - round his neck, and a distinct whiff of weedkiller, so, yes, Natasha, I think he's dead.

NATASHA: This morning, I do room between nine and ten. I tidy cupboard. I put Dean's papers in order. I no find body then. If ever I find body in cupboard, out it go to compost heap with potato peelings. I not stupid. I know about hygiene. Not stay in cupboard. Not in summer, anyway.

BARBI: This is awful, ghastly. For a start, the Dean's sermons are all blood-stained. Then his paperknife's stuck in the General's chest, and he won't be happy about that. He likes it to stay on the desk.

(Enter Jonas from dining room. Throughout the action, Jonas babbles under his breath and mutters to himself when not actually saying anything.)

NATASHA: Here curate!

BARBI: Ah, Jonas!

JONAS: Have you found that sermon? Perhaps I could save you the trouble of looking. I know exactly where it will be. (Heads for cupboard.)

NATASHA, BARBI: No, no!

JONAS: And I think the paperknife must be in here too.

NATASHA: Paperknife, yes. It in there.

(Jonas opens cupboard door, body falls out, he catches it and props it up.)

NATASHA: Rimsky-Korsakov!

JONAS: Oh my God! The blood! The blood! Look at the blood! And the sea turneth to blood, and the moon shall be blood! The blood! The blood!

BARBI: It's a bloody mess.

JONAS: It's all over the Dean's sermons! And look at the paperknife! It's dreadful. It'll be blunt. How am I going to open the Dean's official correspondence? (Closes cupboard door.)

BARBI: It's a bit of a worry for all of us.

JONAS: I shall have to go and get help at once.

BARBI: No, no. Don't you go for the police. They'll lock you up.

NATASHA: Yes. They think you crazy.

JONAS: Then what shall I do? I know! I shall have to go and get help at once from the Vicar.

BARBI: How can the Vicar help with this?

JONAS: My sermon tomorrow. I desperately need help with it. That's why I wanted to borrow one of the Dean's. But it'll be all right; the Vicar will help me.

(Exit Jonas to dining room. Miss Marble enters through french windows with large basket of vegetables, her handbag in one hand. She is followed by Mrs Ginn-Sodden.)

GINN-SODDEN: And the Inspector was there straight away, but they couldn't find anything to go on. Ah, Mrs Dean. A break-in at the damned tennis club, I'm afraid. I don't know what the world's coming to.

MARBLE: Oh, dear Mrs Dean, I've brought a basket of freshly-picked kohl rabi, Jerusalem artichokes and other vegetable oddities I don't particularly want, for you to make salads.

BARBI: I've told you before, dear Miss Marble, I can't cook and the Dean's allergic to salads. Why don't you give them to Mrs Ginn-Sodden here?

GINN-SODDEN: No fear! Can't stand rabbit food!

(Miss Marble struggles with basket and her handbag.)

BARBI: Let me take your bag before you drop it. (Takes Miss Marble's handbag and puts it on sideboard. For a moment she weighs it, turns back to audience, removes something and puts it into drawer then gives handbag to Miss Marble. Miss Marble meanwhile deposits basket on table or chair.)

GINN-SODDEN: There you are, Marble, I told you so. Can't cook. In India she'd be burned in suttee.

BARBI: Burned on a settee?

GINN-SODDEN: Suttee, young woman! Suttee. Burning wives alive. Smartens them up!

MARBLE: We'll just put the basket in here, shall we? (Opens cupboard door. Body falls out, others catch it and lower it face down onto the floor). No room if you're leaving the General's body in there, unless we put him somewhere else.

NATASHA: On compost heap?

MARBLE: Oh no, my dear! We don't do things like that in England. Dead bodies on the compost heap indeed!

BARBI: Yes, indeed. You should really know better, Natasha.

MARBLE: Indeed you should, my dear girl. You'd get rats and mice and crows and all sorts of vermin, and what would happen then to your whortleberries?

GINN-SODDEN: In India they used to chuck 'em into the Ganges.

MARBLE: Whortleberries?

GINN-SODDEN: Corpses!

BARBI: You don't seem very surprised at finding a corpse in the Dean's cupboard, Miss Marble.

MARBLE: Oh, I overheard everything as I was coming through your garden, dear. We stopped just outside the french windows to admire the roses.

BARBI: The roses are further down the garden, dear Miss Marble.

MARBLE: I mean the whortleberries, and I couldn't help overhearing everything from the moment Natasha opened the cupboard.

BARBI: What can we do?

MARBLE: Send for the police. Natasha, ring for Inspector Tyte-Canby. (Exit Natasha to hall.)

BARBI: Whatever happens, the Dean must not see this. The shock would be too great.

GINN-SODDEN: Indeed it would. We'd have a dreadful time with him. I remember the time my cat got at his - er - oh, what was it again?

MARBLE: His whortleberries?

GINN-SODDEN: No, his prize rose bed. He called to see me and I didn't recover for days.

MARBLE: Then we must put things to rights. Leave the body where it is and lend me a hand with these papers. (Touches one and examines her blood-stained fingers with distaste.) Oh dear!

GINN-SODDEN: Careful with those bloody papers, Marble!

MARBLE: Yes, they are a damned nuisance, aren't they?

(Enter the Dean from the dining room.)

DEAN: You haven't seen the Church Times, have you, darling? It makes such wonderful briquettes for the barbecue.

BARBI: Don't come any closer, Dean. It's not a pretty sight.

DEAN: Don't be silly. It's only Miss Marble and I've seen her loads of times, and we're none of us getting any younger. (He comes forward.)

MARBLE: Mind the General, Dean!

GINN-SODDEN: Man down!

DEAN: Oh, hullo! What's he doing down there? Good heavens! He's surely not - not dead - d -

BARBI: I'm afraid so.

DEAN: - dead drunk? At this time in the morning?

BARBI: Not drunk, just -

(As Dean bends down to examine the body, enter Haddock through french windows.)

HADDOCK: Ah, Dean. Just thought I'd pop in on my way to old Mrs Protheroe's. She's expecting quins, you know. Wonderful what these fertility drugs can do. Sixty-five if she's a day. Husband's eighty-three.

DEAN: Oh, hullo, Fishy. You're just in time. Seems as though we've a body on our hands.

MARBLE: You mean a murder, dear Dean.

HADDOCK: Murder?

MARBLE: I'm afraid so, Doctor.

HADDOCK: Let's see. (Examines the body.) Well, I can't see any signs of murder.

MARBLE: The bullet hole?

HADDOCK: Shot himself.

MARBLE: There's no gun.

HADDOCK: Well, he could have thrown it away in the death agonies.

MARBLE: The paperknife?

HADDOCK: Self-inflicted. Missed the heart, shot himself to finish the job.

DEAN: The paperknife too! What a tragedy!

MARBLE: Dreadful.

DEAN: I'll say! That was a present from the Synod, and it's all bent now.

BARBI: And one of my stockings round his neck. My best fish-net too.

DEAN: Oh, not another trip to Harrods!

HADDOCK: Tried to hang himself. Fell. Stabbed himself with the paperknife. Failed. Shot himself. Q E D.

BARBI: And the weed-killer? You can smell it from here.

HADDOCK: First futile attempt. Drank a gallon of paraquat. Didn't work fast enough for him.

GINN-SODDEN: Always knew he was damned incompetent. This proves it.

MARBLE: I'm sorry, Doctor, but I think you're wrong.

GINN-SODDEN: Come on, Marble! The doctor must know what he's doing.

MARBLE: No, this is murder and you should call the police right away.

DEAN: But - the General! Who would have wanted to murder him?

GINN-SODDEN: Everyone in the damned village.

BARBI (to Dean): Including you, darling. You've often said he should be put down.

DEAN: Well, yes, but that was just my over-reaction to his views on women priests.

GINN-SODDEN: I must say, Dean, I never knew you felt so strongly about the old blighter.

MARBLE: Just as you did, my dear Mrs Ginn-Sodden. Surely you haven't forgotten the time he unseated you?

GINN-SODDEN: No, I certainly haven't. And he should have been damned well put down for that, too.

BARBI: Unseated you?

GINN-SODDEN: I was up on Caesar, about to ride to hounds. Fifteen hands, you know, Caesar is.

MARBLE: And the General had joined the hunt saboteurs.

DEAN: The General??

MARBLE: Yes. When he went into his Third Age he went very New Age.

GINN-SODDEN: His dotage, you mean. Silly old blighter.

MARBLE: Anyway, he unseated Mrs Ginn-Sodden using a cricket stump.

DEAN: How?

GINN-SODDEN: Use your imagination, man! But what I still don't know, Miss Marble, is how you knew it was the General.

MARBLE: Didn't he admit it?

GINN-SODDEN: When I cornered him, yes, but how did you know in the first place? He was wearing a ski mask and was completely unrecognisable.

MARBLE: Because I saw him earlier in his study, trying the mask on. And then he was jabbing fiercely in the air with a cricket stump. Obviously practising.

BARBI: You were watering your garden, of course?

MARBLE: No, I was watering his.

(Enter Natasha and Jonas.)

NATASHA: Inspector, he come. Two minutes.

BARBI: Good. But what I don't understand is how the General was on the phone to me just a few minutes before Natasha found him in the cupboard.

HADDOCK: Got a mobile, probably.

DEAN: No, he hadn't. Even if he had, why should he ring from inside the cupboard?

BARBI: It all points to someone impersonating him. I'm surprised you didn't spot that one, Miss Marble.

MARBLE: Oh, it was so obvious, my dear Mrs Dean. But what I'm interested in is motive. Who had a motive for killing the General?

GINN-SODDEN: All of us, surely. I certainly had, for one.

JONAS: So you had a motive, Mrs Ginn-Sodden?

GINN-SODDEN: Of course. I couldn't stand the old blighter, but then neither could anyone else. Doesn't mean I did it, of course.

MARBLE: But you, too, have a motive, Mr Nutt.

JONAS: A motive? Me?

GINN-SODDEN: Of course you have a damned motive, man. You're mad. We all know that. You're the mad curate.

MARBLE: Apart from that, Mr Nutt, it was the General who reported you to the Dean for holding hands with the Vicar.

NATASHA: Ah, yes! And snog in car.

JONAS: Snogging in the car??

NATASHA: I see you give Wicar one big snog in car.

JONAS: I certainly did not snog the Vicar!! It was merely a peck on the cheek.

NATASHA: Snog, kiss, peck on cheek. Is all same, no?

BARBI: No, it's not, Natasha.

(Enter Inspector through french windows.)

INSPECTOR: Ah! Here you all are. Inspector Titus Tyte-Canby at your service. Well, well, well! The General, eh?

DEAN: Miss Marble thinks it's murder, Inspector, but what do you say?

HADDOCK: Looks like suicide to me, Inspector.

INSPECTOR: Suicide, eh? You could be right, Doctor. Still, damned clever way of doing it, I must say. Strangled, shot and stabbed himself? I'm not satisfied; it looks a bit suspicious to me. But what were the motives, I wonder?

MARBLE: Oh, we were just getting down to motives, Inspector.

INSPECTOR: Miss Marble. I might have known you'd be here. Just watering the garden, were you?

MARBLE: Yes, and just happened to overhear everything.

(Enter through french windows the lady Vicar.)

VICAR: Excuse me, Dean, but Jonas was asking for some sermon notes. Ah, here he is!

DEAN: Ah, Vicar. Alex. Come in. Inspector, do you know the Reverend Alex Pacey?

JONAS: Alex, there's something we must clear up.

NATASHA: Snogging.

VICAR: I'm sorry?

JONAS: That will do, Natasha. Let me explain. Since you obviously don't know, the Vicar is my half-sister. I was merely giving her a fraternal peck on the cheek. And if I can't hold my own sister's hand, well - !

BARBI: Ah, good. I'm glad that's cleared up. Now, Vicar, we have another little problem here.

VICAR: Is it to do with the person lying on the floor?

INSPECTOR: It is. Do you recognise him?

VICAR: Good heavens! General Stick-Monocle! Tell me, is he - is he - ?

INSPECTOR: Yes.

VICAR: - an Anglican? Really? I've never seen him in church.

GINN-SODDEN: He was a churchwarden for years, but resigned just before you came.

VICAR: I see. So it was him, Jonas.

JONAS: I told you so. And now he hath reaped what he hath sown.

MARBLE: Precisely, Mr Nutt. Murder. Just look at the blood, for instance.

JONAS (Throws a brief wobbler.): The blood, the blood! I'd forgotten the blood! "And all the water that was in the Nile turned to blood!"

INSPECTOR: Calm yourself, Mr Nutt. Now, where was I?

MARBLE: We were just getting down to motives, Inspector. I've a few opinions of my own on that.

INSPECTOR: I didn't ask for your opinion, Miss Marble. But I'm having second thoughts about this. It could be murder. Nobody must leave this room until I have established the movements and motives of everyone.

JONAS: "For the wicked shall flee though no man pursueth."

MARBLE: Quite so, Mr Nutt, and well may you say so. But haven't you a motive?

JONAS: A motive? Me?

MARBLE: Yes. As I've pointed out, the General reported you to the Dean for holding hands with the Vicar.

JONAS: But I've clarified all that.

MARBLE: I think I can clarify things even further. And so can you, can't you, Dean?

INSPECTOR: I'll ask the questions, Miss Marble, if you don't mind. Well, Dean, can you clarify things?

DEAN: I?

INSPECTOR: Have you some guilty secret or have you not?

MARBLE: You knew the General's views on the ordination of women, dear Dean.

DEAN: Of course.

MARBLE: But you kept it to yourself.

DEAN: Well, what he thought of women priests was his business.

VICAR: But he blocked my ordination, or tried to.

MARBLE: Impossible.

INSPECTOR: One moment, Miss Marble. So, Vicar, you and your poor mad half-brother here also had a motive, eh? A blocked ordination. Now what does that sound like?

BARBI: A case for Dyno-Rod?

DEAN: You can't block ordinations.

MARBLE: Unless you're in the Church, eh, Dean?

DEAN: Oh well, we needn't go into that, Miss Marble.

MARBLE: Oh, but we must, Dean. Because the General was actually all in favour of women priests. But you weren't, were you?

DEAN: Still aren't - I mean - oh dear.

MARBLE: Exactly. It was you who tried to stop her ordination. And you, Mrs Dean.

BARBI: Me?

MARBLE: You knew your husband's views and wished to protect him.

HADDOCK: Looks as if everyone had a motive. Except me, of course.

MARBLE: I'm not so sure, Doctor. When he was younger, the General served on the North-West Frontier.

GINN-SODDEN: Indeed he did. Everyone knew that, Marble.

MARBLE: Particularly you, my dear Mrs Ginn-Sodden.

GINN-SODDEN: And what does that imply, pray?

MARBLE: When you were a young woman you lived in India yourself. There you had a liaison with a dashing young officer. The only problem was, you were yourself married.

GINN-SODDEN: How dare you, you old busybody!

MARBLE: The dashing young officer became addicted to hashish, a habit he picked up from the tribesmen. When you all returned to England, your husband's business connections kept the General supplied for years, until you were widowed.

GINN-SODDEN: Poppycock!!

MARBLE: Whereupon the General turned to the only person in the village who could get him the drug he craved. You, Doctor Haddock.

HADDOCK: No! This is ridiculous.

INSPECTOR: I shall examine your drugs books, Doctor. Be warned. And now, that means you all have motives for murdering the General. Mrs Ginn-Sodden because of her past. The Doctor because of the drug supplies. The mad curate because he believed that the General had tried to block his sister's ordination. The Vicar for the same reason. You all had motives.

NATASHA: Except me.

INSPECTOR: I wouldn't be too sure of that, Natasha Gisabitov Legova. Are you sure you have no secrets?

NATASHA: Inspector, I must confess. I come here to work as au pair, but in reality I have mission. To look for man who swindle my father.

MARBLE: Swindled your father?

NATASHA: In Russia, twenty years ago, my father was Red Army officer. One time he meet English officer on diplomatic mission. That Englishman, he swindle my father at cards. As result, our family poor. I come for rewenge.

INSPECTOR: And the English officer? Was he - ?

NATASHA: Yes. He was General Stick-Monocle.

MARBLE: But you didn't murder him did you, my dear?

NATASHA: No, no. I not mean to murder him.

INSPECTOR: We'll see about that. We have before us all the evidence we're going to get. Now, I have a short list of suspects which comprises two people in this room. Either of them could have done it, and we must proceed with care. (Natasha breaks down into sobs.)

NATASHA: I not mean to murder him. I not mean to murder him!

INSPECTOR: Are you making a confession, young lady?

MARBLE: One moment, Inspector. (To Natasha.) When you say that, Natasha, do you mean you killed him by accident? Or do you mean you didn't do it?

NATASHA: I not do it. I not do it.

(Jonas breaks down into sobs.)

JONAS: "Foul deeds will rise, though all the earth o'erwhelm them, to men's eyes."

INSPECTOR: Are you making a confession, young man?

JONAS: No, I'm quoting from "Hamlet". It always gets me like this. Have you seen the Kenneth Branagh? (Sobs again.)

BARBI: Actually, I preferred the Mel Gibson version.

INSPECTOR: Well, I saw Derek Jacobi's production years ago, and -

MARBLE: One moment, Inspector. (To Jonas.) When you say that, Jonas, are you suggesting you know something about it? Or do you mean you didn't do it?

JONAS: I didn't do it. I didn't do it.

INSPECTOR: Really, Miss Marble, enough of these red herrings. Neither of these people is on my list of suspects.

MARBLE: Ah but, Inspector, haven't you yourself a motive?

INSPECTOR: I, Miss Marble?

MARBLE: How long have you been Detective Inspector now? Fifteen years? Your CV would certainly be improved by solving a nice juicy murder, wouldn't it?

INSPECTOR: Are you implying, madam, that I would try to enhance my career by committing a murder so as to be the one who solves it?

GINN-SODDEN: The murder took place between nine and ten a.m., and from eight forty-five to ten-fifteen the Inspector was dealing with the break-in at the tennis club. I know because I was there myself.

VICAR: So that puts you in the clear, Inspector. But there's one thing I don't understand. Why was Miss Marble creeping through the Dean's shrubbery towards the french windows?

NATASHA: Tchaikovsky!!

DEAN: Bless my soul! When?

MARBLE: Oh, nonsense!

VICAR: Now let's see. It was just as I was hanging out the washing at about half past nine this morning.

JONAS: That's right. I saw you from the road and waved, and just at that moment I thought I saw someone in the shrubbery. I wondered who it was.

VICAR: And why did you duck down, Miss Marble? And what did you have in your hand? I thought at first it was one of those greenfly sprays, but I wasn't sure.

MARBLE: Oh, this is ridiculous! I was just coming to kill some greenfly I'd spotted on the Dean's roses.

DEAN: But that's impossible. At the time stated, I myself was spraying the roses. I certainly didn't see you, Miss Marble.

MARBLE: No, because I was creeping through the shrub - (Pause.) I - I mean -

BARBI: So it was you.

MARBLE: No it wasn't.

DEAN: Then who was it?

MARBLE: It was - it was - Oh, all right! (Picks up her handbag and whips something out.) Put your hands up, all of you, and keep them there.

NATASHA: Shostakovich!

(All raise their hands until they see what it is.)

MARBLE: Come on! Get your hands up.

INSPECTOR: Why should we?

MARBLE: Because I've got - (looks at it for the first time - puzzled) - one of those greenfly sprays??

BARBI: Not looking for this, are you, Miss Marble? (Holds up pistol which she has produced from drawer.) Your .45 magnum?

MARBLE: Where did you get that?

BARBI: From your handbag. When I took it I wondered why it was so heavy, and, as it was unfastened, I couldn't help but see -

JONAS: You mean Miss Marble shot the General?

BARBI: And then stuck the Dean's paperknife into him and wrapped one of my stockings round his neck.

MARBLE: Oh, very well, I confess. Yes, I shot the General.

NATASHA: Glazunov!

INSPECTOR: But your motive, Miss Marble? What was your motive?

GINN-SODDEN: I can answer that, Inspector. You see, when Miss Marble spoke of my liaison with a young officer in India, she went on to mention the General in the same breath. Naturally you all thought the young officer became the General, but he did not.

INSPECTOR: So there was nothing between you and the General?

GINN-SODDEN: Indeed not. But between the General and Miss Marble there was an understanding for a long time. Then passion cooled, as passions will.

DEAN: Miss Marble? You? Passions??

JONAS: Because murder will out, and dog will have his day.

GINN-SODDEN: But why she should kill the General, I cannot tell.

DEAN: I think I can. The General lived in property which belonged to Miss Marble. Passion cooled to indifference, then hardened to mutual dislike. Am I right, Miss Marble?

MARBLE: Yes, Dean, you're quite right.

DEAN: Then that explains something which the General told me some time ago. You own his cottage, and you threatened to evict him. You threatened to cut off his hereditaments.

JONAS: Great Scott! A man of his age too! That's why the paperknife - his hereditaments! Oh! Horror!

DEAN: No, no, Jonas. I'll explain later.

VICAR: And I know that the General threatened, in turn, to reveal all to the News of the World.

BARBI: So you took things into your own hands, Miss Marble?

MARBLE: Yes, I confess. I got sick of always solving the murders in this one small village, so I thought I'd perpetrate one or two for a change.

INSPECTOR: One or two?

MARBLE: The Doctor was going to be next, then the Dean, then Mrs Ginn-Sodden, then a few others.

INSPECTOR: Miss Marble, I arrest you for the murder of General Stick-Monocle. You have the right to remain silent, but I have to warn you that anything you say will be taken down and may be produced as evidence at your trial.

MARBLE: Oh, knickers!!