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Mon capitaine!
Orders from Headquarters, Sir
The orders...
are to attack the bridge.
We can expect heavy casualties.
No-one will reach that bridge alive.
Find your nerve, men.
We risk our lives
but we can take back our home!
For centuries, poets have dreamt of dying for love.
I suppose we shall be the lucky ones.
The orders are to wait three hours for the wind to turn east
then fire every gas canister we have.
There is an alternative, Captain.
What is it, Poirot?
We attack right now.
Now?
Yes.
Within the next seven minutes.
Perhaps eight.
Every morning
the petrels take flight
just before the wind turns east.
You see?
This morning
they fly early.
The wind conditions are ideal now
to hide our advance.
Hidden by the gas
we will cross 200 metres of no man's land without being seen.
Before the enemy even knows
that we attack!
If you're wrong, the wind will blow the gas back on the rest of our army.
We gas ourselves as they Kill us, that's what you want?
I am not wrong.
It's an ambush.
I can't see them.
Retreat!
You were right!
You are too sharp to be a farmer, Poirot.
Non! Capitaine!
I asked you not to come.
I'm a nurse, too.
I heard there was a wounded soldier
whose instincts on the battlefield saved his entire company.
I did not save my captain.
And you agreed to marry me before all of this.
Katherine, you should go.
Do you have any idea how love works?
When you love someone, you love them
through all their moods and changes over time.
Their worst qualities peak at nuisance.
Their flaws become freckles.
And as it happens...
I love you.
What about this?
Come here.
Simple.
You'll grow a moustache.
Poirot! Where you been?
The Arundell mystery? Are you "with case"?
No, I am with hunger.
Monsieur Blondin!
Monsieur Poirot, you solved the case in Egypt.
It was a great success. But I must return.
And tonight is gonna be...
Merci, monsieur.
One of every dessert on the menu is on its way.
Anything else Mr. Poirot wants, just ask.
The whole house is wondering why there's no music.
There's no music because no money's been paid.
I pay everyone at the end of the night.
Well, in my experience,
men who run such upright, quality establishments like yours,
lose their wallets when the bill comes.
I'm betting you already forgot my name.
Rosalie Otterbourne.
I'm not just Salome Otterbourne's manager, I'm her niece.
She'll retire wealthy, and I'll see to that.
And we get paid up front.
So if you want a little music,
first, I wanna see a stack of green
or whatever color money is in your country.
You remember my name now.
Ladies and gentlemen!
Salome Otterbourne!
I wanna tell you the natural facts
That a man don't understand The good book right
And that's all
That's all
You know what? We got to have more love
More understanding every day of our lives
And that's all
Now when you see folks jump
From this or that
They don't know, they don't know Where in the devil they're at
And that's all
Listen, people fighting one another
And think they're doing swell
And all they want is your money
And you can go to... And that's all
That's all
Y'all got to have religion
I tell ya, that's all
Miss Ridge way!
Linnet!
Miss Ridge way! Miss Ridge way, please!
Come on, give us a smile!
- Miss Ridge way! - Give us a smile!
Stand back, please. Make way for Miss Ridge way.
Up above my head
I hear music in the air
Miss Linnet Ridge way,
I can't tell you what an honor it is.
Merci. We have the... There are seven.
Indeed. Seven of the very finest, sir.
I do not want seven. I want only the six.
I cannot have, uh, the uneven number.
Ah, now we have the even number. This is good.
Which should I take away? I do not know.
No, not my little friend, please. Thank you so much.
Thank you very, very much.
It is, you see, my little...
Linnet.
It's not fair looking like that and getting to be you.
Oh, well, I asked Louise to pick out something special to see my Jacks.
It's been ages.
Engaged?
- I know. - But who?
He's big, and square, and boyish, and beautifully simple.
And that's it. He's called Simon to drive the point.
Simon Doyle.
We're desperate to be married as soon as possible.
That's why I wanted to see you.
You're not...
What? No, no.
- But we have sex a lot. - Shh...
- Constantly. - Jackie!
Sorry, it's true.
Honestly, I'll die if I can't be Mrs. Doyle.
It's love.
On, if it's money you need,
call it a wedding gift.
No. Not money. A job.
You bought that new estate.
You'll need someone to fix it up for you and run it.
You could give the job to Simon.
He's unemployed. But he's country through and through.
And he knows all about estates, I swear.
If he doesn't make good, axe him on the spot.
But he will. He's too spectacular to fail.
Oh, darling.
You got it so bad. Be careful.
It's too late.
Jackie, darling.
Here he is.
Mm, that was naughty of me.
Hello.
I hope you don't mind, I took the liberty.
Simon, darling, meet the golden girl. As advertised.
The divine Linnet Ridge way.
Pleased to meet my new land agent.
Do you really mean that?
Of course she does.
Take her to the dance floor, silly.
Go and thank her properly.
Now won't you hear me singing
Hear the words that I'm saying
Wash my soul with water from on high
While the world of love
Is around me
Evil thoughts do bind me
But, oh, if you leave me
I will die
You had me in thou bosom
Till the storms of life is over
Rock me
In a cradle of thou love
Only feed
Then you take me
To your blessed home above
Let's hear it one more time for Salome Otterbourne.
Monsieur?
Monsieur, alors! Monsieur!
You are defiling one of the Wonders of the World!
And also, by the way, ruining a sublime Jaffa cake!
Monsieur!
You beautiful kite!
What? Poirot!
Bouc!
What are you doing here?
What do you think about my kite?
I'll come down. Stay there.
Be careful.
Of all the pyramids in all the world,
you had to walk up to mine.
What a small world.
Mon ami, Bouc!
Why would you fly a kite on the pyramids?
Because no one ever has!
Thousands of years, right here, and I'm the first!
You are the first.
Poirot, it is good to see you.
Are you on an exotic holiday or an exotic case?
Cases, I am in hiding from cases.
Well, if you want to hide, come and hide with us.
In Assouan. We're on a whirlwind tour.
Still the constant traveler.
Mm. Sadly, no.
Uncle sacked me off the train once he found out that I did nothing.
I tried jobs. An office.
I could manage the work, I just couldn't fathom mornings.
But I've made ends meet as a kept man.
Come!
Come. I shall introduce you to Euphemia.
But who is Euphemia?
Well, you'll find out.
A new young lady in the life of Bouc?
A new name to me.
Well, behind every kite-flying man, there is a woman.
Here she is.
The only woman I have ever loved... Mother.
Mother, you must meet Hercule Poirot.
- Why? - He's only the greatest detective alive.
Oh, he exaggerates.
No, he is quite correct, actually.
You are quite the most ludicrous man I have ever seen.
Not the first time I've heard this.
- And you're in my view. - Stepping aside.
Be kind, Mother. Poirot here is my friend, and he's famous.
And he's joining our dinner tonight.
- Is he? - I cannot intrude.
Oh, no, not at all. You bump my stock at the table.
It's not just Mother and I on holiday, we're celebrating with friends.
It's a wedding party.
Ooh. Is that me?
Might be.
Be nice.
Excuse me.
"Should have entire situation managed,
"then back to business as usual."
Do you have all of that? Good.
Now, please see this telegram sent off as soon as able.
And not another soul sees it.
No! I'll do it!
It's bad enough we have to stay in this bourgeois nightmare of a hotel,
but I won't be party to the oppression of the working class.
Unless it's me, of course. Then she's perfectly fine with it.
I am calm, capable, and coping.
Dignity.
Marie Van Schuyler. And I don't need a suite.
It's just me and my nurse Bowers.
I'm Mrs. Doyle's godmother.
We do have reservations.
And will this area be cleared for the party?
We don't want just anybody hanging around and stealing the champagne.
Is it very expensive?
Merci.
Ladies and gentlemen,
we are closing this reception area for a wedding party.
Everything fine, madame?
It's perfect.
The cost of this party could feed a village for a year.
It's an obscene extravagance.
I know. Wonderful, isn't it?
Is it true you donated your entire fortune to the Socialist Party, dear?
Communist.
"Money is the alienated essence of man's labor and life."
Money is the only friend a woman can rely on.
Look at this!
Ladies and gentlemen. And Mother.
It is my honor to introduce our hosts.
Please welcome the newlyweds,
Mr. and Mrs. Simon Doyle!
There they are!
Magnifique, madame!
- Fantastic, Linny! - Beautiful!
Ah, love.
It is not safe.
I bore witness to a small drama some weeks ago.
Clearly, I caught only the first act.
Like an angel, Linny!
Lucky devil.
Fancy finding the one heiress without adenoids and flat feet.
Eloped as fast as they could.
Convention be damned.
Married for love and got money by chance,
that's the lightning strike.
Three cheers and a tiger from me!
How do I look?
Like a million dollars.
Mm, make that two million.
Oh, my wedding gift from Simon.
Yes, paid for with her account, so, hardly.
Her gift to her via me.
I was sure Bouc was fibbing when he said he knew the Hercule Poirot.
Enchantée, monsieur.
My congratulations and my gratitude, madame.
Merci. Ladies. Godmother.
Cousin Andrew!
Simon.
Cousin Andrew, my trustee for all Ridge way affairs,
abroad and domestic.
He's practically family.
I made him come so he'd take a vacation for once.
I'm only here for the champagne, sacred honor.
And for this...
Oh.
Oh, that's so sweet!
Isn't it adorable?
Friends, I know you're all thinking there is a mystery at play here.
The case of "Why in the hell would Linnet Ridge way marry him?"
And I honestly can't say why.
I'm not smart or romantic.
I don't have the words, or the money, or the pedigree.
But I do love you.
And now...
Well, I don't even want to say it, lest the thieves come and steal you away.
To the bride and groom.
Bride and groom.
- Three cheers! - Three cheers!
Salome Otterbourne sang the night we met.
So, I begged your old pal, Rosalie,
to beg her to travel with us.
I wouldn't have missed it.
I haven't tasted caviar in 10 years.
What a decadent display of wealth.
Come on, Linny, let's dance.
Ah, the bereaved.
There's one at every wedding party.
The good Doctor Windlesham proposed to Miss Ridge way
when she was still Miss Ridge way.
He and the papers both had the deal as good as done.
Then came the engorged stallion, and now it's Mrs. Doyle.
If I were in his shoes, I'd only come here to put a bullet in the groom.
Our other guests, Linnet's godmother, who despises Linnet's wealth,
and the godmother's nursemaid, Bowers, who covets it,
as does Linnet's own maid,
poor old Louise.
Oh, and there's Cousin Andrew. He's a slippery fish.
No one except Linnet trusts him.
We find Mother and I are the only sane people here.
The only one who seems to like Linnet at all
is her old schoolmate, Rosalie.
And she's Salome Otterbourne's niece
and arranged for her to come to play for them.
Monsieur Poirot, come and dance.
Oh. Good luck.
Rock me
In a cradle of thou love
- Looking good, Simon! - Come, everyone! Let's go!
Come on.
Only feed me
Till I want no more
Then you take me
To your blessed home above
She's followed us again.
I'm sorry.
Alas, Act Three.
Turns out there's two bereaved at every party.
How's Linnet?
No, no. Thank you very much. Thank you. Yeah, very nice.
Try a piece.
Oh, very nice.
Oh, look at those boxes in there.
- He's here. - Who is?
Poirot.
Well, then let's speak to him.
Excuse me. Excuse me.
The snake is your friend, eh?
My best friend.
Monsieur Poirot.
Sorry about the high drama last night.
Do think about giving us another go tonight.
You are much too kind to strangers.
Careful! Careful!
Thank you.
- Madame. - So sorry!
I go. I go.
You all right?
Mr. and Mrs. Doyle, I'm so sorry.
Actually, Poirot, we wanted to ask for your help.
It's, uh, Jackie de Bellefort.
She's followed us every step of our honeymoon.
She and I... We were engaged, you see.
Has she made any specific threats?
No, she doesn't say a thing. She only shows up, and sits, and stares.
Pardonnez-moi, non.
There is no case for me to accept. She has committed no crime.
It's indecent, what she's doing. And melodramatic.
And she's making an ass of herself is what it is.
See, when I was with Jackie, I liked her, I did.
Then I met Linnet. Jackie just didn't exist for me anymore.
From "Hello," I just couldn't imagine any other path but by her side.
And lucky me, she felt the same.
I could've punched the sun.
Hmm. Instead, you broke your engagement.
Does he have to spend the rest of his life with someone he doesn't love
to spare her feelings?
It's love.
It's not a game played fair. There are no rules.
Now, maybe she hasn't committed a crime yet.
But I know Jackie, she will.
She always settled her scores.
Do think about it.
Mademoiselle.
Do I know you?
If you will permit me a little moment to talk with you?
Of course.
Here it comes.
Linnet paid a detective a bucket of money to knock me off her tail.
She kindly offered, I politely declined.
Boo-hoo.
Madame is used to getting what she wants.
Her father was halfway to a gangster.
You have known Madame Doyle for some time?
We met doing the school play.
Antony and Cleopatra.
I was Cleopatra,
until the teacher came a week before opening
and decided to give my part to Linnet.
I was stuck with Charmian, the handmaid.
You have our newlyweds in the twist.
First, I did it just to be near him.
Then I got bold, and let them see me.
I saw her smile fade
and lines crack across her forehead.
Mademoiselle de Bellefort, you must give this up.
What is done is done. Bitterness will not undo it.
He is married. He is in love with his wife.
Simon loves me.
I know it.
Even if he's forgotten, dazzled by her.
Love that fierce doesn't vanish.
I love him.
I love him madly, badly, at every minute.
It's not something I can switch off.
There's a reason the heart is the organ given to love, you know.
If it stops to rest, we die.
And I won't die alone,
you can be sure of that.
It's a .22 caliber.
It's practically a toy.
Maybe, to fix a broken heart,
all it takes is a single bullet.
Damn her.
All right. What would you have us do? Try the police?
Well, if I may humbly advise?
I am sure Mrs. Doyle has a fine home.
Go to it now.
Build your nest, begin your lives together.
We could, Simon.
We could go home and shut the gates.
We could be happy.
What, just pack it in?
But what about our honeymoon?
Consider it the cost of love.
And a bargain at that, huh?
Bonne nuit.
Merci.
This way. Don't dawdle.
- What's the scam here, Simon? - Hurry on.
I thought we were sightseeing today?
Yes, I know I invited you for another 10 days
sightseeing in Assouan to Philae,
but circumstances invited inspiration.
So, like Moses, not far from here,
we have made a surprise turn at the water.
- After all, I couldn't refuse... - What?
...the Queen of the Nile.
"I have immortal longings in me."
Bravo!
It is gorgeous!
Mother, why don't we have a boat like that?
You got too much money, Linnet. Not enough sense.
But great taste in boats!
See?
I told you it'd all be fine.
Jackie won't be able to follow us anymore.
Let's go.
All right, everybody aboard!
Permission to come aboard.
Oh, wow! It's beautiful.
You look so happy. You deserve it.
We have the Karnak all to ourselves until Abu Simbel.
Don't worry about your things, darling Louise will go back
and pack up all your rooms for you and meet us at Shellal.
Happy to, miss.
Thank you.
We have a piano tuned,
a chef stolen from Shepheard's of Cairo,
and enough champagne to fill the Nile.
Champagne!
It's not even half ten.
Then we're behind.
So, there is one more above, yes?
Hello, Egypt.
All luggage from the hotel is going to the Karnak.
Monsieur Doyle.
I need Monsieur Doyle. I need those three trunks there. Oui.
I shall strike this like Joe DiMaggio.
- Oh, completely useless. - Five, Officer.
- Make that a naught. - Five points.
Bowers, my love.
I'm winning by quite a margin.
Well done.
Well, that's the borderline, surely.
- Huh? - What's that, there?
I'd say that's a grebe, isn't it? Very beautiful.
- You just moved my puck. - Foul shot.
Bouc, that was a foul shot and you know it. Take it again.
You're a cheat. A swindler.
Linnet, you've got cheats on board.
Bowers and Van Schuyler are cheats, just like these two.
Katherine, mon amour.
Monsieur Poirot,
I hope you can forgive my hijacking your holiday.
Couldn't let you miss the fun.
It is an honor.
And it is convenient to my own plans.
Although, travel by water does not naturally agree with me.
Oh, I could tell you...
Well, I should not tell you, actually.
But I suspect you perhaps may have
included me for reasons other than the fun.
I wish we'd gone home like you said.
- Ah. - I don't feel safe here.
Not me, not Simon, even with Jackie gone.
But you are among friends.
When you have money,
no one is ever really your friend.
Now I'm remembering old jealousies and fights.
It takes a pill to get to sleep.
I don't feel safe with any of them.
I hoped you might watch for us.
Hmm.
Thank you.
Mm... Now?
And now.
See? Completely normal.
I'm so hot.
Yes, you're in Egypt.
It's malaria.
You don't have malaria.
You know I have a temperature. That thermometer is broken.
It's perfectly normal.
- No, no, it's broken. - No, it's not broken.
- Oh, I'm so hot. - It's how it should be.
I know, I know.
Tactless to talk business to a bride on her honeymoon.
Bad lawyer. You promised.
There's only a few quick signatures.
Fair enough. My marriage has made a difference, I'm sure.
Do give us more notice next time.
It... It's all quite straightforward.
The Ceylon land concession
and the obvious changes to the new will.
The lease of the London property.
It's all quite straightforward.
I'm sorry, cousin, you know me.
Never met a contract I couldn't find some corrections.
Papa taught me too well.
Not me. That's not my way.
I've never read a contract in my life.
Any deal that can't be made with a handshake
just isn't for me.
Go on, Linny. Sign it.
Sooner you do, the sooner we can get to bed.
You were the first girl who ever told me
that a woman can run her affairs as well as a man or better.
Don't tell me that score changed with one little husband.
Go get ready for the party, Simon.
I promise I won't be too long.
I'm being rude.
It's no rush.
Just kick it to tomorrow.
Up above my head
- I hear music in the air - I hear music in the air
- Now up above my head - Up above my head
- You know I hear music in the air - I hear music in the air
Up above my head
- I hear music in the air - I hear music in the air
- And I really do believe - Yes, I really do believe
There's a heaven somewhere
Heaven somewhere
Up above my head
- Up above my head - Come down, Poirot.
I see trouble in the air
And I really do believe That there's a heaven somewhere
Heaven somewhere
Bloody good fun!
Bravissimo!
Wonderful, as ever.
Thank you.
Madame, I am so moved.
Your bluesy music has joy on top for the dancing,
yet there is tragedy in there, too.
Writing tragedy is easy.
I just imagine someone I wanna punish.
Then I imagine them in love.
You've, uh,
taken quite a keen interest in Salome Otterbourne.
I thought Poirot was impervious to love's fever.
I was sick with it once.
It left me with enough regret for a lifetime.
There are many fine detectives.
Well, that is not true. There are many average detectives.
But to be what I am,
it requires fixedness of mind.
The little grey cells pampered, indulged,
given all the oxygen in my blood,
and minutes on my clock.
No, I leave the tempest of love to you.
But what of the niece?
A beguiling lady, no?
Is she?
A cool, methodical brain of the highest order.
She sings well, too.
- Hmm? - I hadn't noticed.
She's, um, a schoolmate of Linnet's, I hear?
You are trying to keep secrets from me?
- From me? From me? - What?
Rosalie Otterbourne is an overtly beautiful woman,
and Bouc has not spoken to her once?
It's nothing short of gobsmacked love!
Look, I've been bursting to tell you.
Linnet introduced us months ago
and since then, there hasn't been another woman I've wanted to look at
except as a... a nanny to our children.
She is the cleverest, most shocking,
most alive woman I've ever met.
I'm outclassed in a breath and she loves me anyway.
I mean, it's the only bad mark against her.
Mon ami, Bouc, amoureux,
shouting from the rooftops, huh?
Well, no, not where Mother can hear.
Madame Bouc does not support the match, huh?
She's never cared for anyone I've ever brought home,
unless it was clear that they were only staying the night.
Being American doesn't help either.
Mother doesn't approve of people being born outside Mayfair.
She's furious at Linnet for making us a pair.
And her opinion, does it matter?
Money matters,
and mine comes monthly from Euphemia Bouc.
I've tried to earn enough
so that I don't need her permission to marry,
only her blessing,
but I'm just rotten at it.
All my life,
I never wanted to be anything to anyone but an amusement.
But for Rosalie, I...
I want to be good.
Come along. Ship's crew ready for departure.
Returning 5:00 a.m.
And remember, we have new guests arriving at Abu Simbel.
- Good night. - Good night.
We are nearly there.
Ladies and gentlemen,
we are approaching Abu Simbel.
We're all going.
No stragglers. You, too, Louise, you're with us.
I have the pressing to do.
We're in ancient Egypt.
It was your idea for a honeymoon
when you were engaged.
- Coffee, Mrs. Doyle? - Thank you, Claire.
What's that?
The sandstorm is miles away, madame.
No need to worry.
I can't find my tube of carmine red.
I can't be expected to capture these horizons without red.
Brushes down, Mother. It's the temple of Abu Simbel.
Ramesses the Great awaits.
Ramesses II,
married to Nefertari, first and favorite of his eight wives.
On the walls of the queen's burial mastaba,
he wrote a poem to her, which is spectacular...
- Oh, sir, may I see? - Oh, yes.
"My love is like no other.
"Just by passing, she has stolen my heart.
"She is the one for whom the sun shines."
He is a man in love.
He murdered half of Nubia. Great useless blocks of masonry
put up to minister to the egoism of a despotic bloated king.
Mm, I really like their hats.
Fascinating story.
It's bad enough to be married for one lifetime.
To be side by side for eternity is inhumane.
Why must you be so cynical, Mother?
People build towers to love in song and stone
as if cooing over a pair of dark eyes will save them from pain.
If anything, it will double it.
It's over there? Thank you.
Go on.
Think you and that beautiful girl will be the exception?
Not every love turns to misery.
No, the lucky ones die in childbirth.
It's my job to protect you.
You think I don't know what you're after?
You... You want my blessing to marry that girl.
Well, you can't have it.
Rosalie!
Everything all right?
Yes.
No more hiding.
- We'll make it on our own. - Yes.
Whoo!
New passenger coming aboard.
I've got too much sand in my shoes.
Here we are! How's that?
You approve of them?
First man she ever brought home,
a wealthy lawyer.
Straight, narrow,
on his way to being a Missouri Senator.
Then, there was a baron who owned islands,
manners of a king.
Now, it's this penniless Bouc
who drinks too much, and laughs too loud
and always at the wrong thing.
I like him best.
Do you have a husband, madame?
I've had a handful of husbands.
Each one, a handful.
Mm.
Are you married, Mr. Poirot?
I have not that felicity.
Which felicity do you have?
I have my cases.
- I have my books. - Oh.
I, uh...
In fact, I have my eye on a cottage where I hope, uh,
eventually to retire...
and garden.
I hope to perfect a new
strain of the vegetable marrows.
They are magnificent vegetables,
but they lack a little bit of flavor which is...
I would prefer more flavorsome vegetables.
Madame.
What are you really doing way out here, Mr. Poirot?
Madame.
You do realize we've barely held hands past Cairo.
I haven't been myself.
Well, who shall you be, then?
Cleopatra, of course.
Come with me.
Come on.
The ruler of two kingdoms.
What would Cleopatra say?
"Oh, Charmian.
"Where think'st thou he is now?
"Stands he
"or sits he?
"Or does he walk?
"Or is he on his horse?
"Oh, happy horse,
"to bear the weight of Antony!"
"He is speaking now.
"Or murmuring..."
Oh, my God.
"Where is my serpent of old Nile?"
Look out! Bouc!
Everybody inside quickly!
Bouc, inside!
Get inside!
There was a balcony above the cliff, a worker's platform,
but no sign of anyone.
Do you think someone did that on purpose?
Let's get you safe, dove.
Small world.
The captain just swore
that Jackie got here when we left for the temple.
It couldn't have been her.
I know she tried to kill us. I want her off the ship now.
She already had a ticket to board here. Bought ahead.
There's nothing we can do.
I don't care! She always does this!
Just tell me what it costs to get her away from me!
Name a price!
I'll buy the whole damn boat if I have to.
I'll buy the whole damn country!
- Madame. - Thank you.
Thank you.
Louise.
Have you seen my scarf? I swear I had it earlier.
No. No, Miss Marie. I'll be sure to look.
Okay. You...
You don't take your meals with us?
Miss Linnet prefers me not to.
Oh.
Ah, I love that girl Linnet.
But when the revolution comes, she'll be the first.
Blindfold, last cigarette, up against the wall.
Bang!
Some detective. My ledger?
You've taken my book.
J'ai fait une erreur bête, pardonnez-moi.
I confuse you with, uh,
my Edwin Drood in the parlor.
- Oh. - I can see by your penmanship,
you are Dickens' rival in precision.
Mm-hmm.
Monsieur Poirot.
I wanted you to know
you won't have to look out for us any longer.
Jackie might not be able to see reason,
but we can.
We're going home.
We'll get a car to Khartoum first thing in the morning.
And then donkey to rail to ship to Wode Hall,
and then familiar beds forever.
To hell with Jackie de Bellefort.
Oh, dear.
One last cork, though. Why not?
I do not normally take l'alcool...
...but for this...
Dove.
Monsieur.
- Yes. - Yes.
- To going home. - To going home.
Thank you.
You're not built for boats.
Or champagne.
Did you know that the wives of dead pharaohs
were buried alive with them?
They must have been locked in screaming.
But I bet there was one who was willing
and couldn't bear to be parted.
You're sorry to see me.
Like it or not, I'm in his thoughts.
Simon is afraid of me.
Mademoiselle, you have a choice still.
You can ruin his life or begin a new one.
It may not be the life that you imagined,
but perhaps it will be the life that God intended.
Love is far too important to trust to God.
From the moment I met Simon, I knew one thing for absolute certain,
I will die if we are parted.
I once felt as you do.
I loved so much.
I thought that if I lost her, I should die.
I lost her.
To another man?
A mortar shell.
Visiting me in hospital.
I was to be discharged in a month,
but I begged for her to come at Christmas, to be together.
She came, but the train was...
After Katherine,
I became
whatever it is I am now.
I was going to be a farmer.
Forgive me, the champagne...
it loosens the, uh, memory and the mouth.
Ship's crew ready for departure.
It's after 12:00.
The crew's left the boat.
Well, I want another cocktail.
- I'm done with today. - No, no.
Time for bed, my love.
Yes.
I'll take a pill, so don't worry about waking me.
You're not joining her, Simon?
Oh, we've already made love today.
- Twice. - Three times.
Sleep well, la reine Linnet.
Jackie, I wish you well.
I do.
I'm not sorry for what we did,
but I'm so sorry for what it did to you.
I wish we could stay friends.
You were the only one who never cared about the money.
Good night, Jacks.
This is the last time that you'll see either of us.
You can't disappear.
- Let's call it a night, Jackie. - Yeah.
Oh, no, stay for a bit. She's working up for a scene.
God, I feel so free
and so fat-headed for not turning around sooner.
You can't get rid of me that easily, Simon.
We were bound.
Heart and body, I gave you all of me.
A few months of good times? Hmm?
Were they even that good?
I swear, looking at you now makes all the fond memories go sour.
It's like trying to remember a party after you've been sick.
Simon, don't be cruel.
I've run dry on sympathy.
Did you really think this little stunt of yours would bring me back to you?
You're a fool if you thought I could ever love you again.
I don't think I ever did.
Simon, that's enough.
You don't mean that.
You don't.
Say you don't mean it!
Simon?
Simon.
- Sorry. - No, no, no.
Rosalie, take her to Bowers.
- Now. - Simon.
- No, no, no.
I'll get the doctor.
- Rosalie! - Huh?
Bowers! Nurse Bowers!
Simon.
Bowers?
- No, no. Hey, hey! It's all right. - I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry!
I'm so sorry!
Dr. Windlesham!
What's going on?
It's Simon, in the parlor. It looks bad.
Rosalie, stay there. I will find Nurse Bowers.
- Yes. - Right.
Bowers?
- Bowers! - Bouc?
- What's going on out there? - What's the matter?
It's Jackie. Bring your bag.
What's happened? Huh?
- This way. - I don't know.
Jackie.
Come straight in here.
- All right? - Yes, go!
She shot me!
No, no, I can't. I can't move my leg.
Bouc, help me.
- Help me move him. - Right.
With me.
- Get him up! - All right.
Al right.
I'll give you something to ease the pain.
Are you sure you don't want to make it hurt more, Doctor?
Settle the score.
The bone's shattered. We need a hospital.
That was so stupid of me to rile up Jacks like that.
You're a bright boy now. You just might deserve that bullet.
Don't leave her alone.
She didn't... She didn't...
She could hurt herself.
She won't.
I've given her something to calm her down.
I'll stay with her.
Good. Come on.
Let's get him to bed.
Careful.
All right, almost there.
Here we go.
Steady. Steady, steady, steady.
- That's good. - There we are.
This should help you sleep.
Oh, God.
Oh, God...
Time of death?
Six hours ago. Eight at most.
Sometime between midnight and 2:00 a.m.
No evidence of struggle. She died in her sleep.
At least that.
Gun held to the temple. There's scorch marks there.
God...
One bullet.
Small caliber.
Probably a .22.
- Practically a toy. - Practically a toy.
Ah, good. I was hoping you were the day shift.
Is someone ill?
Someone is dead.
- Linnet Doyle. - Linnet?
Stop. What do you mean? How?
I'm afraid Jacqueline de Bellefort has made good on her threat.
No, that's impossible. I was with her all night.
She slept right here.
Out cold.
Could she have left even for a moment?
Did you leave her side or sleep at all?
No, not a minute. No. Not a wink.
And even if I had, I was scared she might hurt herself,
so I gave her enough morphia to fell an elephant.
Was there a single moment
when Mademoiselle de Bellefort left your sight?
Never, no.
So Jackie couldn't have murdered Linnet.
Just as she could not have pushed a boulder onto Simon Doyle.
What did you do after bringing her to Miss Bowers?
We came back here to pick up the gun and lock it away.
I kicked it under the couch,
but when we came back, we couldn't find it.
- I wanted to wake you. - I said not to.
You did not want my assistance.
No, stop that. She was Linnet's friend.
It's all right. He's a bloodhound, let him sniff.
Simon was with the doctor and Jackie was with the nurse.
I just figured it was an awful lovers' quarrel
and not a case for the detective.
Ah, but the mysterious case of the vanishing pistol.
Someone locates it
in the moments between you bringing Mr. Doyle to the doctor and your return,
and then presumably uses it to commit the murder of Linnet Doyle
and part two lovers forever.
Bouc, tell the captain to dredge the river around the ship.
Simon Doyle must be told.
Linnet.
No!
Oh, God. It was Jackie!
God damn her! I could kill her!
Jacqueline de Bellefort was not the killer.
She shot me!
She has a concrete alibi for the entire night
from the moment she fired her gun at you.
No.
Oh, God.
Linnet.
You have to help me.
Please. You have to find out who killed my wife.
Did you suspect any of them?
Everyone loved Linnet.
Yet, your wife confessed lately that she did not feel safe with them.
There... There were petty things.
I, uh, wasn't crazy about her old beau being on the ship,
mooning over her the entire time.
She mentioned something about Salome.
Some incident that had happened years ago.
She didn't say what exactly.
What of your maid, Louise Bourget?
There had been a disagreement, no?
It was just that Louise had left some things at the hotel.
Silly things. Nail varnish.
No. She had been with Linnet for years.
She even had charge of Linnet's necklace.
- Check on the necklace. - It's by the bed.
Thank you, Bouc.
It's not here.
So, did you see the necklace when you came in this morning?
Alors, I saw Miss Linnet there.
Dead.
I dropped the tray and ran out.
What did she mean earlier on the way to Abu Simbel
when she said the travel to Egypt was your idea?
For your own honeymoon.
Um...
Perhaps Miss Bourget would prefer privacy for this intimate detail.
So, if you could please take Mr. Doyle...
But, no, if you please, I prefer Mr. Doyle hear me,
so he does not accuse me of a secret.
- Accuse you of a secret? - Oui.
She ended my engagement.
Miss Linnet gave a party last year.
A man spoke to me,
and found me after.
When he proposed, I gave notice.
Miss Linnet was suspect of his intentions with me.
Just a maid.
She had him investigated.
He had debits.
She offered to pay them all off if he would drop me,
to make a test of his affection.
He dropped me.
For my benefit, she said.
That same money, handed to me as a dowry, could have given me a life.
What did you do last night after you left Miss Linnet?
I went to my cabin on the deck below.
Did you go anywhere else?
See or hear anything else?
Forgive me, sir.
If I had come outside my cabin to smoke,
I might have seen her killer enter or leave her cabin.
But you did not or you did? What is this?
Uh, no, I... I did. I did have a cigarette inside.
You all are staring at me. It's making me...
Please. You know we kept confidences.
I was childish at times, but that's all.
Tell them. I would never hurt Miss Linnet.
Yes, of course. Easy, easy goes it.
Uh, no one here is accusing you of anything.
I know you've always taken good care of Linnet,
and I will be certain to take care of you.
That can be enough, can't it? Surely, we can let the poor girl go.
You don't think someone would kill Linnet to steal her necklace?
I've seen people poisoned for less.
Dredge the river.
Please be careful with those.
Oh, come on.
These are what few private possessions I have.
I trust you'll be sensitive.
All the money in the world
and she's in the freezer with the hams.
This is as much dignity as we can afford the dead
in these circumstances.
Uh, Doctor, before you go.
You joined this wedding party despite your obvious affection.
You had no reservation to see her with another?
Some people you can't say no to. She asked.
If I may ask a question, please, about your passport.
You go by Dr. Windlesham, but this is not your natural title.
- No. - Lord Windlesham.
Born to, not earned.
What I do as Lord Windlesham belongs to buck-toothed tradition.
What I do as doctor is mine.
And Dr. Windlesham travels widely, hmm?
India, Africa.
Much of the world lacks access to modern medicine we take for granted, Poirot.
Most nobility enjoy their nobility more.
Linnet used to tease me for that.
Said I shouldn't expect her to honeymoon in a mud hut.
Your thoughts to her were always tender. What of the husband?
I don't know him well.
What I do know, I can't recommend.
This is appropriate.
Mr. Doyle would have us focus our suspicions on you.
Me?
I was with him all last night.
Indeed. You gave him a strong opiate injection.
He was asleep.
You could have left him at any time and not been observed.
- Did he ask for the drug? - He was in pain.
There are less powerful pain medications in your bag which would suffice.
You created for yourself an opportunity.
- I didn't create an opportunity. - She was unkind, no?
She flaunted her new love, yet still called you like the puppy dog.
Seeing them pained you,
and like the strong opiate injection, you could end your pain with a bullet.
Lords demand to get what they want,
and you are still a lord.
What do you want me to say?
That I know I'm ridiculous?
I'm not a fool.
I knew she was settling for me.
I didn't mind.
When she married Simon,
I actually thought about ending my own life.
They all thought our engagement was for the families,
the papers, for the damn aristocratic theatrics of it all.
The shame of it is...
I loved her.
Little Linny and cousin Andrew.
I knew her since we were children.
Were you aware of any grudges against the family?
More than many.
Her father got rich making rich people poor.
Linny continued the practice.
Did you hear anything of the commotion last night?
I was all snores by 11:00.
And the contracts you wished her to sign, they are very important?
Yes. They are. Were.
With Linny gone, the, uh, estate will have to be redrawn.
May I see them?
Forgive me. These are confidential.
I must insist.
- Respect for the deceased. - No matter, I know what they contain.
I doubt that very much.
I believe they extend your stewardship of Madam Doyle's estate,
despite her marriage, no?
Who told you?
I am Hercule Poirot.
I do not need to be told. I have eyes and they see.
A brain and it thinks. It now thinks somewhat poorly of you.
- You think I killed her? - Did you kill her?
I don't benefit a dime from her death, Mr. Poirot.
You can look at the will I revised.
A godmother stands to inherit.
Her husband legally gets the rest.
You won't see my name anywhere.
Perhaps the intention was not to inherit, but to conceal.
You executed control over her vast fortune.
Not a concern, so long as there is no impropriety,
no speculation by loyal cousin Andrew,
in a time of market decline.
This is not a kind of thing you can prove on a boat.
You endeavored to obtain a signature
by trickery, from Little Linny, and you failed.
You knew it was only a matter of time
before her keen eyes uncovered your thievery,
unless her eyes were closed forever.
You see, in my position, Mr. Poirot,
I often have to transport items such as canvases worth millions.
And they need security.
So, if I wanted to Kill her,
I would have used this.
A .45.
Yes.
You may go.
A .45.
Why would he risk going back for Jackie's gun if he had that?
He would not.
Miss Bowers, if I might trouble you.
He wants to speak with me? I'm laying down a corner.
There's nothing to fear. Only you might know something of value.
That would be the shocking twist.
If you wouldn't mind her coming alone.
I damn well would.
I want these served at my funeral.
Mm-hmm.
When you kept vigil with Mademoiselle de Bellefort,
did she make threats against Linnet Doyle?
No, her threats were against herself.
She wanted to pitch herself into the drink and not come up.
That's why I gave her all the morphia.
How fortunate that we had you with us.
You have been a nurse companion for how long?
Um... Well, coming on 10 years.
All with Mrs. Van Schuyler, so it feels like 20.
The job came to me late in life.
Ah, after you lost your great wealth.
Wealth?
Acquired tastes require acquisition,
and here, you moon over truffle and king crabs.
So, too, your gown, Chanel,
your luggage, Vuitton, your shoes, Perugia.
All the peak of chic 10 years past, worn and patched over.
How many years since you had caviar, did you say?
Many lost fortunes in the crash.
Many of them due to Papa Ridge way and his unscrupulous business practices.
Perhaps that explains your reaction
to the lease of Linnet's London property. Hmm?
It was once called the Bowers building.
Ah...
We employed over a thousand people, good wages.
We spread our wealth, when we had it.
So many like family.
Some never found work again.
So, yes, I miss caviar.
But I miss them more.
And you, feeling as you do, with your charge
Mademoiselle de Bellefort drugged into slumber,
you are free to move about the ship, to find the gun,
- to shoot Linnet Doyle... - No!
He specifically asked to see you separately.
- ...while she sleeps. - Mrs. Van Schuyler.
- Stop interfering! - Ah! A visitor.
She cannot be without her Miss Bowers for even a moment.
Please. Please, join us to tea, huh?
He's just accused me of shooting Linnet.
No, no, no.
I merely, uh, suggest a possibility.
I don't approve of this interrogation.
I mean, who are you to question us?
I am the working man.
The skilled laborer, the hero of your own economic fairy tales.
Well, I don't care for it. Or for you.
You are meant to be finding the killer
of my goddaughter.
I never had children of my own.
I had Linnet.
You are aware, of course,
that you are a key beneficiary in Linnet Doyle's will.
You accuse me now of murder?
Oh, no, he accuses everyone of murder.
It is a problem, I admit.
That I would Kill my own goddaughter for money?
I already gave away a fortune.
I don't give a fig for money.
I see no reason to continue this conversation. Come on, Bowers.
The stewards on this ship keep an excellent room. Have you noticed?
A truly first-rate housekeeping staff.
He's off his rails.
Beds made every day,
sheets folded in marvelously precise 45-degree hospital corners, I must say.
Unlike, for example, the day we departed,
when the beds were made in the flowing edged bedspread style.
But, you know, when I saw Mademoiselle de Bellefort
asleep in Miss Bowers' room on our third day aboard,
the bed was as it had been on our first.
As yet unslept in.
Bouc,
where did you find Miss Bowers when you sought her aid?
In Mrs. Van Schuyler's room.
My mind asks...
Here is a woman for whom the fire against class and materialism burns so hot
and yet she keeps a servant?
No.
Her servant is no servant...
nor nurse, only companion.
Let us name the reason.
Love.
Don't worry.
And I know this.
It's all right.
People kill for love.
They found something!
What?
They found something!
Monsieur Poirot.
Well done, young man. Go and get yourself cleaned up.
Yes, sir.
It's your scarf.
But it went missing. I've been looking for it since the temple.
It's true. We couldn't find it anywhere.
It has had an adventure in your absence.
Your scarf, complete with bullet holes...
Used to dampen the noise of a shot.
Also a bloodied handkerchief
and the .22 derringer belonging to Jacqueline de Bellefort.
Two bullets fired.
We return immediately to Assouan.
Ooh, I like this.
The full force of his forceful attention.
The great mind, all mine.
Flirtation, however delightful, will have no effect.
A woman shows you a direct bit of interest
and you assume it can only be to hide guilt.
Whoever she was must've done a number on you.
That mask covers your whole face, doesn't it?
You knew Linnet Doyle before you came to entertain us, yes?
- Paths crossed. - You did not like her?
I stay polite.
Monsieur Doyle mentioned an incident with the victim long ago.
A reason for possible animosity.
Poolside, Kennebunkport.
Summer of '24, before I was someone.
I played a show at the hotel
and thought to take Rosie for a swim before packing.
A young girl complained to her papa
about having to share the pool with a colored.
We were told to leave, and when I did not abide,
I was made to.
I wasn't sure she'd even remember it. I do.
It was '25.
So does she.
Mademoiselle.
She shamed you in front of your ward.
Monsieur Poirot,
if I put a bullet in everyone who took a potshot at me
for not keeping to my place,
the world would be littered with dead white ladies.
Linnet was just a kid back then.
Taught by a bad daddy.
But she became my friend in boarding school.
Gave the other girls license to do the same.
Truth to tell...
Linnet was as easy to hate as love.
I might have done both.
That is a very honest reply.
I thank you both for your time, mesdames.
There was one final question. It is a curiosity of mine.
Your hat. In the turban style.
As many times as I have seen you, you have always worn one like I,
but it is out of the fashion, no?
Not when I wear it.
If you would indulge me, please, to remove it.
- Mm-mm. - Oh! It's all right, Rosie.
He's driving at an answer he already knows.
.22 caliber, like the one that killed Linnet Doyle.
I've used it, if you wanna ask.
Twice in defense, once in anger.
Last night was not that once.
You tell me if I'm lying.
Mr. Poirot.
Monsieur.
You interrupt at a poor time, madame.
You're meant to be the detective,
yet I found this.
It was there, right in my vanity drawer,
face up like a yolk.
You know I didn't take it.
No. Which is why our killer has remanded it
to your custody to return.
- Thank you. - Unless...
- Poirot. - Unless what?
Unless you took the necklace to steer suspicion away from you.
Evidence is easily disposed of over the ship's railing.
Whoever did this made a show of discovery.
Why would my mother murder Linnet?
Bouc, you said your mother was furious with Linnet for making you a pair.
Madame, it was Linnet Doyle who introduced your son
- to a woman you distrust, no? - Rest assured,
if I had a bullet in my pocket to correct my son's poor taste,
I would not spend it on Mrs. Doyle.
Mother, please, that is not helping.
Perhaps. But I have seen your excellent landscapes.
You are a patient woman who achieves every effect she intends in time.
Who so diligently planned to have me aboard this ship,
yet with my suspicions diverted in another direction.
That is a private affair.
That is a concluded affair, madame.
- Enough. - Enough indeed.
I am now prepared to present the conclusions
of my other, more secret case and put it to rest.
Secret case? What?
What does he mean?
Mother?
- Monsieur. - Mademoiselle.
Mesdames, thank you for joining us.
Bouc.
I will make my own confession.
When we met in Giza, I told you I was on vacation from my detective work
when in fact, I was and have been on a case.
What case?
You.
At the request of your mother, Madame Bouc,
who cabled me in distress some weeks ago.
My mother, in distress?
I was bidden to follow the Otterbournes
to determine the character and fitness of the show business woman
who had stolen your heart.
You did this to me?
I'm your mother. I've done far worse.
To observe them,
I had to consume many doses of the bluesy music,
which, I confess, I did not expect to enjoy,
but, in fact, I did very much
as performed by Madame Otterbourne.
It was unusual for me, but it was very nice.
That's why you were in Giza.
How we met "accidentally."
I am sorry.
I had to make you see what she is.
Tell him, Detective.
I will tell you, Bouc.
Having observed Rosalie Otterbourne,
having inspected her books of accounting...
Yes, I know, please forgive me, madame.
What?
...I can tell you, she gambles frequently,
though frequently wins.
She drinks little, she tips well, she pays her employees,
and her taxes on time to the dime.
She is diligent, she is forthright.
In business, perhaps even virtuosic.
Though at piano, sadly, amateur.
As for her adopted mother, she drinks to excess twice a week or more.
She smokes cigarettes of various compositions.
And I believe that at least two of her marriages were not...
I think, strictly legally ended.
But she is a magnificent personality.
Mm.
I do not yet know who murdered Linnet Doyle.
But I do know this...
Rosalie Otterbourne is irrevocably in love with your son and is his better in virtue.
She is more than fit. She is a find.
It wasn't enough that we're happy.
I did not trust her. Despite the detective, I still don't.
I love her. That has to count for something.
Why should it?
Corinthians had it wrong on every point.
Love isn't patient or kind.
It envies and boasts and doesn't care who gets mowed down.
It angers, it is irritable, it keeps record
of every transgression against it,
and good God, it fails.
Sure as a face ages, love fails.
He really wants your permission, but he doesn't need it.
Any more than I need to meet your standard.
Or yours.
I've had a chance to observe you.
Wanna know what I make of your character?
He is obsessive, IS vain, is smug,
is lonely for a reason.
A detestable, tiresome, bombastic,
egocentric little freak.
How dare you?
Get out of my way.
- Mademoiselle, if I may. - Ooh.
Miss Otterbourne, I owe you an explanation.
Please. Allow me to apologize.
Have you ever met a man
who says his own name as many times
as Hercule Poirot...
Confirmed.
It is Louise Bourget.
There's no sign of drowning.
They threw the body in after.
She must have got caught up in the paddle.
She was murdered on board.
Within the last hour.
Money.
Covered in blood.
Louise Bourget hinted that
she might have seen the killer make an escape.
If indeed she had, she might have offered her silence for a sum of money.
A blackmail.
Only the killer preferred her silence absolute.
Her throat, cut clean. The blade...
short.
Very sharp. Like a...
Like a scalpel.
You!
You killed them!
It was... It was his scalpel!
He killed Louise!
And she saw him leaving Linny's cabin.
You've been lying ever since.
You're the one Linnet should never have trusted.
I always told her your firm was bilking her for millions.
You murderer!
I will kill you!
Hey, stop it!
Get off of me!
Hey! Hey! Hey!
Have some respect!
How many have to die before you do something?
A throat cut while you run me over the coals.
He's trying.
Well, he'd better try harder,
or we'll all wind up in an Egyptian jail cell.
If you won't name the killer, I will.
No.
He loved Linnet too much.
There's your motive right there.
Look, all of you just keep quiet and let Poirot work.
In any case, we'll reach the port by morning.
For now, it's safest if we just keep to our own cabins
with the doors locked.
She was engaged for a time.
I'll have to write
and let him know that she's... gone.
They broke it off, but he'd want to know.
That's good of you.
It's horrible. All of it, horrible.
Who could do such a thing?
You must have some theory, Monsieur Poirot.
Don't you?
I have one final interview to conduct.
Full speed!
As I have allowed affection
to color the clarity of my thoughts in your investigation,
I must ask you to remain as witness to this interview.
How long did you know Linnet Doyle?
I'm a suspect now?
How long did you know Linnet Doyle?
I know your tricks.
I've seen this play before from that side of the table.
A long time.
We weren't close, just familiar.
My parents considered her parents their equals,
SO we grew up at the same parties and wound up kissing each other's friends.
You can't catch me at anything because I haven't done anything.
So, ask whatever you like.
Where is your coat?
Why did you not wake Linnet when Simon was shot?
Poirot.
Don't.
Her husband was shot.
You have such sympathy for the former fiancé
of Louise Bourget.
You wish to inform him of her fate.
Yet, you do not spare the same sympathy for Linnet.
I thought she would be asleep.
She said that she had taken a sleeping pill.
Rubbish!
God, I was so happy to see you, Bouc.
But you lie to me.
You lie in my face!
And now, you make yourself my prey.
What happened? Did he kill Linnet?
Was it you and Rosalie together?
No, she is honest. Too proud to live well from theft.
- You alone did this. - No, I didn't.
You returned to the parlor alone, to find the gun and you did.
You then went to the Doyles' cabin to inform Linnet about Simon.
She was sleeping. You saw the necklace. You were assaulted by temptation.
But she woke, catching you, so you shot her.
No, I didn't. That's not...
Only Louise Bourget saw you leaving and demanded money.
Instead, you brought her a blade.
- No, I didn't Kill... - Two murders!
All to secure a stolen fortune so you would not need permission to marry,
only her blessing.
I didn't kill anyone.
I never found a gun. That's not what happened.
No, you did not kill anyone.
Linnet Doyle's murder was premeditated.
It required exact timing, a stolen scarf.
You did not kill her, but you did go to the Doyles' cabin
and found Linnet already dead.
You knew she had been killed before all of us.
But instead of calling for help...
you took the necklace.
After I told you of the cabin search, you attempted to return it.
But you came upon Louise Bourget arguing with someone, demanding money.
You saw her throat cut.
You saw her murdered.
You know who killed Louise?
But you could not say, not without admitting you stole,
so you hid it in your mother's room. Believing that she would catch no blame.
While you remained silent.
Only you had Louise Bourget's blood on your coat.
If...
If 1 admit this, if I say it...
You will face punishment for theft.
You will face prison.
I'll... I'll lose Rosalie.
She loves you.
I can't...
You cannot let a killer go free to protect yourself.
I wanted to tell you.
All I thought was how...
All I thought was how happy we'd be.
We could run off and get married.
No obligations. We'd be free.
Stupid!
It was so stupid, I know.
Who did you see her with?
You were a terrible friend, Poirot.
Why did you have to teach me to be good?
Who?
You could never understand...
what people will do for love.
Come on!
No.
Mon ami, Bouc. Huh?
Bouc?
I heard gunshots.
- I heard a shot. - What's going on?
Did you catch him?
Poirot, did you catch whoever it was?
What is it?
Was someone hurt?
I have never seen anyone so happy as he...
when he was with you.
He told me how much he hoped you'd be happy one day, too.
That you'd get tired of being just a pure cold detective.
Be human instead.
I don't want you happy.
I want you to find who did this.
It was your gun that shot him.
It was his gun!
- I was in here! - His gun!
I was here.
Well, you were there. You saw me. Tell her.
It's true. He was in here.
No.
My pistol was in my suitcase in my cabin and...
Why would you leave your gun with a killer on board?
Because...
we'd be at port by sunrise.
If the local police saw a dark man holding a gun,
they'd shoot me before I ever saw a noose.
You have failed...
your every duty.
His friend.
I did fail.
Linnet Doyle.
Louise Bourget.
Bouc.
I will not fail him now.
The murderer is here.
And will stay here.
Miss Otterbourne is right. I love to talk.
An audience.
I am vain, you see.
I love people to hear me bring the solution to a crime and say,
"See, how clever is Hercule Poirot."
When all I want now, would give anything for...
is one conversation...
with Bouc.
I would stomp about and say, "Around a person like Linnet Doyle
"there are so many conflicting hates and jealousies.
"It is like the cloud of flies, buzzing, buzzing."
And he would laugh at me.
“Then play your clever games," he would say.
"Ask your questions till the right one comes."
"Who would want to kill her?
"Who could have?"
And then, I would ask and I would see.
Yes, Bouc showed me too late.
A person in love will do anything.
Love makes us do reckless things. Rash things.
A boulder falls, rash.
Louise murdered, wild. Bouc, shot.
I had believed the identity of Madame Doyle's killer was obvious.
Cousin Andrew Katchadourian.
Doing as he did at the Temple of Abu Simbel,
where he wandered off alone, desperate.
Where he saw an opportunity. Hoping to hide his sins under a rock...
...he pushes one.
I...
I don't know what I was thinking.
I...
I wasn't... I wasn't thinking.
I saw them below.
And... And thank God I missed.
And you must all know...
I didn't kill her. I would never do that.
I... I loved her.
I didn't kill her!
No, he did not.
Linnet Doyle's murder was not a wild act. It was methodically planned.
The details, the times, the bullets, the alibis.
But planned by who?
I turn to Bouc once more.
Why did you paint him in a green jacket?
He wore red on the pyramid.
My red paint went missing.
It was stolen
by Linnet Doyle's murderer.
By her husband, Simon Doyle.
Me?
That's ridiculous.
How could he? He was shot.
Yes, he was shot. We know this for certain.
What we do not know for certain is when he was shot.
Or what he did in the moments after we believed that he was.
Consider...
Madame Doyle reported her husband was cross with Louise over some nail polish
left at the hotel. Why should he care?
Because Madame Doyle wore blood red nail polish,
which had, for him, an intended use.
This gone, Madame Bouc's paint would have to do.
He also did not expect his wife to invite a detective to the party.
So, to be safe, he puts me to sleep. A single glass of champagne
at his insistence sends me to my bed with my head spinning.
Drugged for his performance.
Miss Otterbourne, you saw a gun fired.
You saw Simon collapse.
A blood-soaked handkerchief to his leg. At which point you left him.
Busy with Jackie and finding the doctor.
This gives the murderer but moments alone.
Moments are all he needs. He picks up the pistol.
He runs to his wife's cabin.
Simon...
And he shoots her,
through the temple.
There were scorch marks on Linnet Doyle's wounds.
The missing scarf would have eliminated them,
but it was not used on her.
It was instead used here to muffle the sound of another shot.
- What's the matter, Bouc? - There's been an accident.
He returns here
to retrieve the scarf which he had previously hidden.
Where he took the gun one more time and fired it into his own leg.
After which, he replaced one bullet
into the gun so if it was found,
we could count not three,
but the two shots that we believed had been fired.
He then wraps the handkerchief, the scarf, and the gun
and throws them into the waters of the Nile.
Then makes himself ready for the arrival of Dr. Windlesham.
She shot me!
I can't move my leg.
Your alibi secured, you avoid suspicion.
Indeed, you ensured a multitude of suspects.
Encouraging a guest list not merely of friends and family,
but exclusively those carrying grudge or grievance against your wife.
Even our entertainment.
All passing as a new husband's thoughtfulness.
Blame deflected in every direction except at you.
You are mad.
That I would shoot myself, and then somehow kill Louise and Bouc.
He's right. He couldn't have killed them.
He did not kill them.
The second and third murders were committed
by his accomplice in the first,
and, I believe, by the mastermind behind this entire ingenious plot.
Jacqueline de Bellefort.
His lover once. His lover still.
Introducing the couple. Stalking them. Finding them aboard this ship.
Shooting Simon with a blank.
All to create two unassailable alibis.
The grieving husband left to inherit his wife's fortune
and then, in time, to marry the woman he loves.
Has always loved.
When I asked Louise Bourget if she had seen anything, she gave a curious answer.
"If I had come outside my cabin, I might have seen the killer."
Not yes, not no, but a veiled threat to Linnet's killer,
who was present in the room.
Simon Doyle.
Who then assured her that Louise would be taken care of.
Indeed, she was.
As soon as he was able, Simon, no doubt, sent a message to Jacqueline,
warning her of the new danger.
Telling her where to find a weapon.
And then, when Bouc...
When Bouc detected who had killed Louise, Simon shouted...
Come on!
...a warning to his accessory...
who shot Bouc through the throat.
Before he could reveal Jacqueline de Bellefort.
You killed my son?
I'll see you die for this.
Rosie, please.
I swear it.
You can't all believe him.
He has no proof.
True. I have only a sunken gun wiped of fingerprints, yes.
But it came with a gift.
The handkerchief.
The warm waters of the Nile in springtime
would set the color of blood to a dull brown.
In those same mysterious waters, carmine red paint will fade...
to pink.
Oh, how clever is Hercule Poirot.
Was the ambition his or yours?
He needed things.
I needed him.
You never cared for money.
But you could deny him nothing.
Not even a plan when he could not devise his own.
Simon, what do we do?
Let's go.
They'll take us in. We'll be separated.
We get off the boat now and we run.
Come on.
It's all right, Simon. Give it to me.
Uh-uh.
Listen to me.
We can make it.
We've got to go now, and we've got to be strong.
We can be strong.
I love you.
I am sorry you have become so wealthy.
Ah, nothing I can't fix.
We might just keep some.
Come on.
They will arrest me now?
No.
So long as you settle her affairs honestly
and pay back what you owe.
You return to London, Doctor?
There's nothing for me in London anymore.
West Africa.
Perhaps I can do some good there.
I wish I'd never got to see you work.
Um...
Perhaps...
- See you soon, Syd. - Thanks a lot for tonight.
See you in a couple days.
Tell the band one more song, then they have to finish their rehearsal.
Watch it, mister.
When the storm
Of life is raging
Stand by me
When the storm
We're closed, mate.
Of life is raging
Stand by me
When this world
Is tossing me
Whoa
- Hey, hey, hey, hey - Like a ship
Oh, yeah
Out on the sea
Stand
By me
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