My Beloved really
likes a good old cosy murder mystery series. You know the sort of thing – where
the horrific reality of one person killing another matters less than the
solving of the preposterous puzzle which led to this most brutal of inhuman
acts. If it’s all dressed up in Jazz-age paraphernalia, so much the better.
There’s nothing
tastier on a chilly wintertime Saturday afternoon than a Poirot or a Sherlock
Holmes and, whilst we do draw the line at the preposterous antics of the ITV
version of “MARPLE” playing fast and loose with the source material, the
version featuring Joan Hickson is TV Gold for us. Strangely enough, perhaps for
different nostalgic reasons, the Margaret Rutherford movies are still much
enjoyed - all of which include the word MURDER in the title and which include
the perhaps significant in this context “MURDER, SHE SAID” - but several other
Miss Marples have been found unsuitable, including the feature film version
featuring Angela Lansbury.
Which brings us to
“MURDER, SHE WROTE” in which she played the title character, crime novelist and
amateur sleuth, JESSICA FLETCHER, which recently looped around through its two
hundred and sixty four episodes (plus four television movies) to return back to
the pilot, which consequently turned up in the evening on a channel I can
actually receive and we decided was worth a watch out of interest.
“MURDER, SHE
WROTE” was the brainchild of Peter S Fischer and two familiar names in creating
TV detective drama, Richard Levinson and William Link, whose credit can be seen
at the start of all those Columbos that are still being forever rerun. Columbo
very swiftly ran out of innovative new ways of killing to be investigated –
something that has never troubled the troubled people of Midsomer – which is
something that makes the astonishing number of “MURDER, SHE WROTE” stories even
more remarkable.
The idea of a
crime writer becoming embroiled in any number of “real life” crimes was hardly
a new one. For just one example it was a furrow thoroughly ploughed by “JASON
KING” way back in the late sixties both whilst and after he worked for “DEPARTMENT
S” and it is an area of detective crime drama that was resurrected for eight
seasons of “CASTLE” in the last decade, but when you’ve got a willing lead
actress as amiable and likeable as Angela Lansbury on board, mixed in with a
bit of cosy murder mystery that’s suitable for primetime, and a stellar crowd
of guest stars just lining up to join in with the fun, you know it was always bound
to be a smash hit.
After we’d
recorded the pilot, during that first week alone we saw Martin Landau in one
episode, and Peter Graves reuniting with Greg Morris in another, and before the
month was out we saw a whole host of familiar faces from both the small and big
screens turning up to murder, be murdered, or just join in with the list of
suspects to snarl at the camera as the “Significant” musical stings made us
aware of their suspicious actions.
“MURDER, SHE
WROTE” to be honest, is very similar to much of the other television of this
type, in many ways. It portrays a strangely wholesome, idealized version of
predominantly affluent white America, well, idealized apart from all the prolific
murdering, of course.
It’s a world of
wealth and ambition where the heinous act of killing another human being is
seen as the obvious solution to a business problem or a relationship problem,
but in which holidays, community parties, and the baking of pies can continue
on regardless, and in which anyone showing a real response to a genuine tragedy
is swiftly led off into another room to weep alone or plan their subsequent
relationship or turn out to have been the murderer all along.
Despite the many
deaths, the great American machine must go ever onwards and upwards, without
pausing even to ponder on the “what might have beens” or the tragedy of lost
hopes and dreams, and often these shows end on a joke and a smile and a carry
on regardless, but that shouldn’t bother us here.
That is the format
and it has proved to be a very successful one for decades now, and my perhaps
slightly cynical response might explain why I’m seldom drawn into talking about
American series television in the articles I write.
Still, for a
change, I just thought that I might for once, and here we are, about to look at
the feature-length pilot of “MURDER, SHE WROTE” made in 1984, and called, rather
excitingly and, perhaps appropriately, “The Murder of Sherlock Holmes” and
these days broadcast as a two-part episode as that makes it easier to schedule.
Directed by Corey
Allen and written, in various credit formats by the three gentlemen named
earlier, the story is chock full of really famous actors, not least one Andy
Garcia rather barkingly playing “First White Tough” which makes for both an interesting
casting choice and says a lot about the racism that still persists in
pigeonholing so many facets of American culture.
But I digress. Too
much of my time recently has been spent focusing upon the portrayal of ethnic
minorities by white actors in 1960s and 1970s British television, so we
shouldn’t begrudge Mr Garcia one of his early breaks into national television.
Alongside that
future movie star, you also get to see Ned Beatty who later did a fabulous turn
on TV’s “HOMICIDE: LIFE ON THE STREET”, Brian Keith – a stalwart of ITC’s “THE
ZOO GANG” a decade earlier, a late-life credit for the brilliant Arthur Hill,
and “BIG JOHN” himself, Herb Edelman in a tiny, tiny role as a bus driver,
amongst many, many others.
The programme
itself begins with that familiar montage using “Hah!” a typewriter (was it so
very long ago?) and various jolly scenes of Jessica Fletcher living a jolly and
active life around and about the location streets of the small seaside town of
Cabot Cove which, for the moment at least, resides in Maine, but which
resembles in more than a few ways the community of Mendocino in northern
California, a place I have visited a couple of times, and somewhere which is
very proud of its association with its fictional counterpart.
The titles and the
jaunty tune both take a darker turn as Jessica is seen in various of the scenes
of false jeopardy into which she will stumble during several stories, but
return to a more satisfying jollity as the pages of her latest crime novel are
leather-bound into the folder bearing the series name.
Part of the fun of
the first series is spotting the title sequence clips, and another fun way to
enjoy the show is by adding lyrics such as “She’s waving from the shore” to the
tune and images on offer.
Well, we enjoy it,
anyway.
Another fun aside
is pointing out how almost all the TV lettering you will see on American TV
series from this period is yellow, presumably because it was less likely to burn
out the tubes or flare like white might. Almost the only series I can think of
from that era that has white lettering is “HILL STREET BLUES” but I’ll admit
that my research into this had been less than comprehensive.
The first image of
the show proper that we see is, perhaps significantly if you know your crime
fiction history, a woman in white. She is carrying a candle in a glass lantern
and is descending a creaking flight of stairs, and, as the wind howls, we
follow her to some open French windows on a stormy night as she tentatively
repeats the name “Roger…?” and, because the show has “Murder” in the title, our
expectations are already telling us that something unpleasant has happened to
this Roger as she comes face-to-face with a masked executioner and SCREAMS!!!
But they’re
messing with you, because it’s just a stage play – albeit a stage play
featuring some rather impressive scenery and effects – and Jessica is in the
stalls with her other “ladies of a certain age” pals watching the show. Afterwards,
whilst they are being bundled outside by the harassed director, she is able to
tell him it’s obvious that the killer is the uncle because he was wearing a
different tie.
This one short
exchange rather cleverly tells us just about everything we ever really need to
know about Jessica; her ability to instantly analyse situations, her
observational skills, and her all-round cleverness, and we are still lamenting
the woes of the play’s writer who is about to get a whole world of grief from
that angry director when the montage begins, over which that astonishing list
of guest stars will appear, during which Jessica once more “is waving from the
shore” and jogs her happy way around Cabot Cove (we see a sign) meeting and
greeting everyone in this obviously small but friendly-seeming town of
murderers and psychopaths.
But we’re getting
ahead of ourselves, there, aren’t we…?
The benefit of
hindsight is a wonderful thing, but, if we ignore the cliche that everyone
Jessica ever met over the subsequent dozen years or more was somehow involved
in a murder, where the only common factor was Jessica Fletcher herself, here we
find ourselves right at the beginning where all of those hundreds of deaths are
still in the future, as indeed are the stack of novels that Jessica is yet to
write.
Because, in the
pilot, despite all those familiar usual beats being firmly established right
from the get-go, albeit over twice the running time of the average episode, our
Jessica starts off as a yet-unpublished author, living in a small town, and
acting as a part-time English teacher.
The now familiar story
structure of an unpleasant character and several of their enemies being
established, only for someone – not necessarily the unpleasant character (but
more often than not it is) – to be murdered in a mysterious way is all there,
as is the request of local law enforcement for Jessica to help out, sometimes
because she’s shamed them into it, although the way she gets to corral all of
the suspects for the denouement – to cries of “DEY-NOO-MONN” in our house at
least (we do that with “POIROT” too) – is a bit of a “bait and switch” in the
pilot. But we’ll get to that later.
As the montage and
the credits conclude, a green telephone is ringing as Jessica returns from her
jogging. For a woman of a certain age, she’s a pretty good runner, by the way,
something that’s going to come in handy from time-to-time, so it’s worth
establishing it from the get-go.
It’s an excitingly
modern push-button version of the familiar dial telephone with the curly wire
which shows that Jessica is a forward-thinking modern woman, who will use the
very latest technology like a proper typewriter when it comes to writing her
novels, and will therefore show that she is not befuddled by the strange modern
world in which she lives, and that fax machines, pagers, and rinky-dinky
computers are not going to be available as the tools of villainy to confuse her
in the pursuit of truth.
Because, like
POIROT and MISS MARPLE and countless other sleuths before her, Jessica’s moral
compass is unwavering, and she is the instrument of truth and justice and fair
play, and we need to remember such things when modern mystery writers try to
mess with that basic fundamental facet of the genre.
We cut to a view
of a New York City in which the Twin Towers of the World Trade Center still
stand tall on the skyline, and from where Jessica’s nephew Grady is calling because,
via his girlfriend Kitty (played by Jessica Browne), he’s handed her book manuscript
to a publisher who wishes to publish it and, despite her protestations of not
being happy that her private amusement is becoming public property, and that
she is not really a writer, suddenly we see a shop window in which this proud
daughter of Cabot Cove’s book moves up from number eight to number two in the
Best-Seller’s list.
Would that such
matters were so easy in the real world, eh, folks?
Anyway, in order
to bring Jessica to New York and allow the story proper to begin, we cut back
to that office in the Twin Towers where there are further discussions about the
necessity of distasteful things like publicity junkets.
And so,
accompanied by another jaunty tune, we see Jessica receiving a Cabot Cove
makeover – one in which she is persuaded to travel to the Big Apple in a beret,
apparently - and, through the magic of film editing, she is brought to a
railroad station in New York City where, having befriended the train guard en
route, she is met from the train by Grady and Kitty and taken to the office for
a very brief meeting with the owner of the publishing house, an apparently very
terse man who is running very late and barely acknowledges Jessica’s presence
when he does finally show up.
That fine
character actor Arthur Hill – who you might remember from the film “The
Andromeda Strain” - plays Preston Giles and, whilst Jessica maintains that
she’s not in it for the wining and dining, she takes a moment to remark upon
his sallow complexion and offers up some friendly advice as to how he could
achieve a healthier one.
We next see Jessica’s
face on a black and white TV monitor as we begin yet another montage, this
about the trials, tribulations, and frustrations of the terribly hard life of
being a best-selling author on the publicity circuit. A talk show host is rude
to her; a critic is dismissive; a person buying several copies at a book
signing merely sees it as an investment; Jessica is ignored on a radio show
because she’s not exciting enough (stay tuned!); a feminist talk show spoils
the ending of the book; Jessica catches a cold; and finally one of a group of
overzealous autograph hunters turns out to be a Mrs Peabody with a subpoena
accusing her of plagiarism.
I think someone’s
writing from their own bitter experiences here, people.
Fed up with the
whole thing, Jessica (running gag alert!) makes the first of several attempts
to just go home, although an unexpected and penitent Preston Giles comes to see
her off, presumably because he’s decided that he’s rather taken with the cut of
her jib, and, with roses in hand, persuades her to stay and come to the country
for a weekend party, the old flirtyboots, and even offers to give her a lift.
And so the
location shifts yet again to the classic country house for the classic country
house murder mystery to unfold, and we arrive in the quaint little town of “New
Holvang” where, at the side of a swimming pool, Caleb McCallum played by Brian
Keith is shooting a rifle, as an ironic foretaste of things to come.
And whilst Jessica
is introduced to a veritable cornucopia of potential suspects, several of whom
claim to have loved her book, there is some significant discussion about the
“Sonic Boom” from a passing aircraft which, you know, might prove significant
in some small way later on, and it becomes apparent that, Horror of Horrors!,
the party that evening is going to be a Costume Party, and, because writing is
so central to concept of this series, everyone is supposed to be going as their
favourite literary character.
Do not get me
started on the horrors of Fancy Dress…
Just… Don’t.
And so, we cut to
one of those rather typical Hollywood notions of what an opulent costume party
might resemble and Jessica makes an entrance down a grand staircase in a little
number she’s managed to throw together with a little help and is portraying Cinderella’s
Godmother which, I don’t know, somehow feels exactly right.
Then Jessica gets
to endure the dubious fun of the average Rich American costume party, including
dealing with a flirty Giles, some bad jokes from Humpty Dumpty, and the dubious
“Bah Humbug!” Ebenezer Scroogings of a failed songwriter pianist. Brian Keith
arrives dressed up as a robust Sherlock Holmes – remember that episode title,
folks – and we get to see Ashley, his jealous girlfriend in full “Jealous Woman
in American Melodrama” mode, played by Tricia O’Neill, all of which helps set
up the list of suspects and, perhaps, potential victims, too.
Obviously Giles’
flirtations are starting to pay off, however, as Jessica goes for a walk with
him in the extensive gardens where they spot a torch flashing from within a
darkened upstairs room and suddenly a mysterious figure dashes through the
party but, after a fight in the dark, he is caught.
Regular viewers of
such shows will now appreciate three things; Firstly, it’s far too early in the
episode for his character to be our principle suspect, but, secondly, it’s far
too late to introduce another set of suspects, and yet, thirdly, we are asking
ourselves just why this new character is being introduced just now.
Well, he’s Basil
Exposition, of course, here to provide another layer of motive, but to also
prove that this mysterious interloper was not one of our current suspects up to
no good whilst the party was in full swing.
No, it’s not that
kind of party.
The intruder was
none other than Private Investigator Dexter Baxendale, played by Dennis
Patrick, and we are meant to ask why he is there, as indeed do several
characters, several of whom – for the women at least for this is an eighties
American TV series remember – are wearing somewhat skimpy outfits, presumably
because of that famous “jiggle factor” that so beset “CHARLIE’S ANGELS” and
“POLICE WOMAN” and just about every other family drama of the preceding decade.
Anyway, just in
case you’d forgotten this was a detective drama, he points out that everyone is
under investigation, opening up the pool of suspects, and then he is thrown
out, after having clocked Giles and referred to his choice of costume as the
Count of Monte Cristo.
And so Jessica’s “Quiet
little weekend” is turning out (Ho! Ho!) to be less quiet than expected and
whilst we are exposed to more American ideas of what opulence looks like, Caleb
McCallum (dressed as Sherlock Holmes, remember) has a very public spat with his
drunken wife Louise McCallum (Anne Francis – who was once space virgin Altaira
in “FORBIDDEN PLANET”) and because she refuses to let anyone drive her home, she
drives off drunk, giving us another possible but ultimately not victim to
ponder upon.
Meanwhile,
Sherlock’s girlfriend Ashley makes a point of spilling her wine, which the ever
practical and resourceful Jessica offers to help her clean up, providing her
with a most cast-iron alibi as Jessica drags her off upstairs.
And, as the drunk
pianist fades slowly and unexpectedly into the early morning, we time lapse to the
morning after the party when the Butler is busy tidying up the chaos and
snoring guests sleep all around the room.
Jessica, of
course, is out jogging, showing off her healthy nature after presumably not spending the entire night with
nasty Ashley.
On her run she
meets a returning (and not too hungover) wife of Sherlock Louise and goes
looking for Caleb, so we are now in full “someone’s going to find a body soon”
mode, but the SCREEEEAM! when it comes is from a woman in bathing suit (jiggle,
jiggle) who has come across a body in the swimming pool and a shotgun lying at the
poolside.
And so,
inevitably, we cut to the mundane real world routine of ambulances, police
officers, and radio messages, confirming that there is some doubt over the identity
of the Sherlock Holmes found floating in the pool, and Ned Beatty (see also “HOMICIDE:
LIFE ON THE STREET”) turns up playing Detective Chief Gunderson in a natty hat.
In the grand old
tradition of such things, he interviews suspects in the drawing room whilst -
amusingly – Jessica is outside the window in the background looking for clues
as a light musical sting, possibly on a clarinet, tootles away to take away
from the death and horror,
The chief suspect
is the wife – you remember that very public row of course – but she denies
shooting anyone – even though she can’t remember due to the blind drunkeness which
even she has to admit is a rather blank (and convenient) sort of an alibi.
Meanwhile the whining
pianist wants to leave which means we get to see more of Jessica checking stuff
out until the Chief realises that he’s read her book and, simply because of
this, a small town detective asks what she thinks is going on.
Yes, as will
become the norm, a small town cop involves Jessica and, as we are all asking
exactly why he would do this, she makes a very good point that the body is
wearing the wrong shoes and as the detective puts two and two together far
after Jessica has done so: “Are you saying that the body ISN”T Caleb McCallum?”
in walks Caleb McCallum alive and well, to rather underscore the point.
Well, he IS Brian
Keith… He’d always want more than a cough and a spit.
Anyway, after that
entrance, the reunion with his wife doesn’t go too well and it also turns out
from the card the Private Eye was carrying that he “was working for Caleb” and
we get a little more motive dropped in with chat about business troubles,
confidential information going astray, missing reports, and who might be the spy.
It appears that
our late Investigator friend might have been on to something, and Giles, in a
frightening yellow sweater asks the question everyone else is thinking about
why he was in Caleb’s Sherlock Holmes costume? And in front of a sea of the bewildered
faces of his friends (they were all at the same party remember) he admits that
he went off to a “local inn” with a young lady which is US Primetime code for
rumpy-pumpy, I suppose.
Anyway, the costume
was dumped and presumably put on by Dexter Baxendale for reasons unknown, and
someone shot him thinking he was someone else. Probably.
Giles sets up a
nice post-party departure limousine ride for Jessica, although she is
“distracted” and has a thought or twelve, not least her sudden qualm about
reality of real world murder rather than her own cosy murder mystery novels,
which is again a moment of telling the critics that the writers are aware of
this and that they’ve now addressed it, thank you very much, and can we just
get on with our cosy murder mystery, if you don’t mind.
At the gate,
Detective Gunderson intercepts her and their subsequent chat in the limo fills
in the story so far, for any of us not keeping up at home. Basically, someone
killed Sherlock Holmes, and, in case you’ve not yet twigged, supposing the
killer didn’t know about the switch in costumes? The Chief sadly laments that
he now has two possible victims and is spending the worst Sunday he’s had in ten
years.
Not a line you’d
want in for Sunday evening transmissions, I’d imagine, but never mind.
We cut to some
newspapers being read by Kitty in Jessica’s hotel room (she gets a lot of young
women in her room does Jessica) who suggests that she could solve the mystery. Jessica, however, is
packing, and about to take a second shot at (running gag alert!) heading home
to teach. In a little bit of fairly typical American story-telling, we learn
that she is rather “fond” of Giles, but objects to being “fixed up” with a suitor,
although, as she points out that they were beginning to hit it off, and that
she needs to give the situation much thought, our internal alarm bells are
ringing, and we wouldn’t take bets on Giles making it to the end credits.
We cut to that familiar porter on the train home,
but she doesn’t leave with the train this time because her nephew Grady has
been arrested on suspicion of theft and possibly murder, and we cut to Jessica
busybodying at the police station and finding the evidence stacking up stacking
up against him, not least because that missing report was found in his car. Even
Jessica seems unsure, although it’s Jessica, so we know that she’s probably got
it all worked out already.
Giles arrives,
coming to the rescue with offers of brilliant lawyers he can get to help, and
this newly formed Scooby Gang retire to a nearby coffee shop to chat about motives.
In the same coffee shop, Jessica spots the girlfriend Evil Ashley who is no
longer a suspect because the time of death has been pinpointed at 11:15 and
what they thought was a sonic boom was a gunshot, which happened as Jessica was
sponging her down. For one of the main suspects, then Jessica is her alibi…!
And that is where
we reach the end of part one in the two-part version of the edit of what was
once a feature-length double episode. So, whilst I do only look at part ones,
I’m not going to leave you in the lurch, we shall simply move on to part two
with a bity of a spoiler alert to warn you that I am telling you the plot.
In a taxi Jessica
worries about her burgeoning relationship with Giles, saying, rather
poetically, that flowers that bloom too early fade too fast, although we
swiftly move on to a chat with a rather pleasant taxi driver over the overheard
word “Bay” something which eventually leads to Bayside Marina where she meets
Caleb on his boat.
Anyway, Caleb
thinks Jessica’s nephew is guilty, the fool, and Jessica decides to set a trap,
which involves a telephone call back to her nephew because they need to prove it
was Ashley who stole the report, or, at least her accomplice Sam.
And so, in the
tradition of those old Hitchcock suspense sequences, obviously an influence
here, Jessica takes it upon herself to investigate Ashley’s office outside
office hours, and so, with that familiar shot through a fish tank foreground so
beloved of TV directors, we see her through it searching for the missing
report. It is funny how “business” offices are all so similar in these American
series, but, in many ways, Business in America is a very uniform thing, as are
the expectations, and the ambitions involved with it.
But we’re not here
to discuss wider American culture in general, although we ought to point out
that clichés become clichés because of their essential truth, and homogenous
recognizable elements.
Anyway, Grady goes
off to search inside the computer – Ah! Those were the days! Computers were SO
mysterious). This has the advantage of leaving Jessica alone and allowing the
soundtrack to crank up the suspense music as she searches.
However, Shock!
Horror! Suspense! Ashley arrives, and whilst we see her removing evidence,
Jessica hides behind the sort of handy wall no office I’ve ever worked in ever
had, and, on the brink of being discovered, Phew!, she is saved by phone call,
and, as Ashley leaves suddenly, Jessica heads off in relatively hot pursuit,
although no taxis will stop and Jessica is very nearly hit by bus.
Still pursuing her
quarry, Jessica gets on the bus – a bus driven by Herb Edelman no less (“BIG
JOHN, LITTLE JOHN”), the episode takes a peculiarly urban turn.
The camera favours
the “sinister” bus folk, one of whom, a black actor of course, gets off the bus
when it stops on the wrong side of the tracks and Jessica is immediately beset
by a couple of hoodlums who threaten her and involve her in a street mugging as
the “real world” intrudes into our cosy drama, and suddenly its “urban” and
“street” and, yes, no doubt far too real for its target audience. Oh, and one
of those actory muggers is that future Hollywood star Andy Garcia, that I
mentioned earlier.
However, in a rather
nice turn, the “sinister” black guy saves her from the bad guys, despite all
that threatening music and emphasis on his shifty looks on the bus, because he’s
read her book and recognized her as being a celebrity which means that the
scene ends (Ha! Ha!) on a vandalized poster of Jessica sporting a moustache.
Back at the
current location of Jessica’s “Murder, She Wrote” headquarters, Giles &
Nephew wait anxiously until Jessica arrives with a stack of newspapers and, via
a mistake found on the rinky-dinky computer, Jessica makes a vital connection and
phones the Chief to tell him to arrest Ashley! And, after trawling through the
papers, she finds an advert which takes us off for what we suppose to be the…
DAY NOO MONT
And so, wearing
her best dotty spotty blouse, Jessica points out that the washed out piano
player was more than a little bit dodgy, and is producing an off-off Broadway production
at the “Serendipity Theatre”, so she heads over there for a little Jessica
explanatory chat with him, as her nephew waits outside.
Inside the theatre,
a very bad song audition is taking place (there’s another long academic paper
yet to be written collating such scenes) and, with bellows of “MARVIN!!!” from
the departing struggling songstress (accent on the stress), Jessica’s voice is
heard from the shadows as we return to another theatrical setting not unlike
that opening so long ago which we’d all forgotten all about really.
But, you know,
writers like such dramatic resonances, so here we are.
Anyway, the “J” in
“J’accuse!” obviously stands for Jessica and she explains the Ashley connection
using excellent expressions like “fiddle faddle” and “shenanigans” and when
Ashley surfaces up in the Gods and makes her admission of fraud and theft in
cahoots with her pianist pal, it looks as if the jig is firmly up… However, she
has a cast-iron alibi.
Which brings us to
that bait and switch we talked about earlier, because, in a break with the
familiar format of these sorts of things, after the confrontation with some
villains, the plot now moves on.
The detective
searches Caleb’s boat and is arrested by some passing cops, it seems that
everyone’s got the same message that something interesting should be able to be
found at the boat, and, when the sail is unrolled, it turns out that Caleb (ie
Sherlock Holmes) is now properly dead.
Back at Jessica
HQ, various bits of chat in the hotel room confirms those pesky alibis as
Jessica, who is always leaving, packs her bags again, which Giles laments,
which leads to a rather moving moment which ends with our Jessica actually
getting A SNOG (!!!) and a fadeout.
So we find
ourselves back, once again, at the railroad station with Jessica leaving all
over again, rather sad that she didn’t solve the mystery, and, in another round
of chat with the porter (Ho! Ho!) he asks once more whether she’s sure she’s
leaving, and she confirms this, settling down to read her paper.
And, of course,
she finds a clue and gets off train and runs like the wind, because all of that
jogging really pays off you see.
And so we arrive
at the DAY NOO MONT proper as we see Jessica returning to New Holvang whilst
engaging with another taxi driver – they are proving to be a philosophical lot –
because Jess knows and chats to absolutely EVERYONE she meets.
So here we are at
that murder mystery staple, the empty old house and, when Giles finds out he
flies out because he’s so worried about her. Meanwhile, Jessica is hunting
around for clues with her torch and, having found one, ends up outside a locked
door where she is approached by the villain of the piece who is none other
than…… (SPOILER ALERT!)
GILES!!!
The swine.
Anyway, at the
poolside, on a dramatically dark and windy night because that always works
best, she admits to wanting to tie up a loose end, and, as the time approaches almost
8 o’clock and, even at 25 feet, Jessica can see Giles quite clearly because the
automatic lights come on at eight even when there is no moon, so the mistaken
identity shooting doesn’t hold any pool water.
And whilst Jessica
hoped that she was wrong, she now knows exactly what happened and is rather
sorry to have to give her “YOU DID IT, NOW I UNDERSTAND, LOTS OF THINGS CLICK”
speech to this bloke whom she thought she rather liked.
With Jessica visibly
upset, it’s left to the villain to do what they always have to do in such
dramas, and confess his back story – explaining all about the 15 years spent
rebuilding a life after his escape from prison and being recognized by the
Private Eye, and whilst several allusions are made to The Count of Monte Cristo,
Jessica is now getting angry, not knowing whether to scream or cry, and is
visibly VERY UPSET, especially as the Threatening Music cranks up and Giles
places a threatening hand on her shoulder at the edge of the swimming pool of
death before…
He decides to hand
himself in and there was no real threat
at all.
Phew. False jeopardy,
eh….? It’s exhausting.
And for one last
time, we return to the railroad station with Jessica insisting that she is
never coming back after having endured such a miserable week, and musing upon
how differently things might have turned out if only she had let it be…
Which isn’t very
Jessica, is it, boys and girls, and wouldn’t have made for much of a series if
she had.
However, as she
boards the train, there’s time for one last “Jessica, Wait!!!” and another
request for help as two wrestlers have been found drowned in a wrestling ring in the middle of the city and,
as Jessica dismisses her until she thinks about it, and incredulously repeats
the one word… “DROWNED???” We freeze frame, safe in the knowledge that hundreds
more mysteries are waiting to be solved.
By the time of the
series proper, Jessica would be an established best-selling author with several
other books behind her, but as an introduction to a proper cosy Murder Mystery
series, “The Murder of Sherlock Holmes” makes a rather enjoyable tale and
Jessica’s adventures are off to a cracking start.
MARTIN A W HOLMES, OCTOBER 2018
