01x01 - Written in Blood

[bunniefuu]

Durrow, Southern Ireland

Liam?

Liam?

What are you doing with that?

Liam?

Liam!

LIAM!

Written in blood

Bye, Mr Hadleigh!

Have a nice evening, then!

"Phoenix turned and fired twice,

the mm b*ll*ts spitting
through the air

entering the brickwork two inches to
the left of the Russian thug's shoulder."

"A moment later came the reply
of the U*i semi-a*t*matic,

and Phoenix twisted round."

Mrs Bundy?

Mrs Bundy!

"Her lips, searching the sapphire,
honey-scented darkness, found his,

cool, forceful, unresisting."

"And as the frozen waves crashed down..."

- Afternoon, Mrs Hutton!
- Oh! Afternoon, Mrs Bundy.

Got your meeting, have you?

Yes, I'm on my way.
Is Gerald-Mr Hadleigh. Is he in?

- Yes. You'll be the first.
-Will I? Oh, right.

"He pulled her towards him,

his powerful, masculine hands tearing at
the silk fabric of her Gaultier nightshirt."

"Scum! Scum-bag! Scum-bag!
Scum-bag! Scum!"

"The repetitive beat of
the inner-city drum."

"Scum-bag! Scum-bag! Scum-bag!"

"Scum!"

Yes!

What is that?

It's Hector. My dragon.

I thought I might take him
to the writers' group.

Ye Gods, woman, you're not serious?

How is it going?

It was going very well
until you interrupted me.

"Scum! Scum-bag. Scum-bag."

"Scum."

It's a bit repetitive, isn't it?

Yes, it is. That's the point!

" , Sebastian Lyddiard,

great-grandson of Herbert Lyddiard,

who'd served under Sir John
Jarvis against Napoleon..."

We ought to go, Honoria.
We're going to be late.

They can wait.

I've almost finished
the th century.

Oh, I am pleased.

Sebastian Lyddiard, Edward Lyddiard,

the Rt Hon William Lyddiard,

George Lyddiard, Herbert Lyddiard,

Henry Lyddiard, and then...

Ralph.

Ralph, Yes. Ralph Lyddiard.

Do you ever regret
marrying him, Amy?

I wonder if you ever think
that but for you,

he might still be alive?

No.

Well, I do.

So now we come to the question of
which writer we invite to address us?

What about Jilly Cooper?

I thought he said a writer!
Hur-hur.

Do you think we can interest
Frederick Forsyth?

- I rather doubt it.
- What a wonderful idea, Gerald!

Oh well...

Especially since you're writing a thriller,

I think Frederick Forsyth would be first-rate.

He'd never come, he'll just pretend
he didn't have time. They always do.

I'd like Shamus Heany.

A poet?

Oh, not another poet.

That last one was such
a ghastly little man.

Yes.

What about Max Jennings?

- What?
- Max Jennings.

Why him?

What do you mean?

Who is Max Jennings?

You know, Honoria, that book
I was reading. Far Away Hills.

It was a bestseller.

No. No. No!

I'm the er...chairman of this group.

I don't want him here.

Why not?

Well uh..., I don't think he's very good.

Look, what about... Alan Bennett?

Tried him last year.

- Jeffrey Archer?
- Vulgar.

You know, it's getting late.

I've got marking for a class tomorrow.

Why don't we take a vote?

Max Jennings.

I say no. I'm against it.

Doesn't makes any difference.
It's a majority vote.

Max Jennings it is!

It's from something called The
Midsomer Worthy Writers' Circle.

They want me to give them a talk.

You're not going to go, are you?

Letter's from somebody
called Brian Clapper.

It's got its own letterhead.

Chairman...

Gerald Hadleigh!

Do you know him?

Isn't it a bit early for that?

No! I'm awake.

Gerald Hadleigh!

They've invited me on July the st.

Thought you had to be in Dusseldorf.
Or Denmark, or somewhere?

I'm in Denmark on the nd.

You don't want to go to
a boring writers' circle!

As a matter of fact...

I do.

Yes.

As a matter of fact...

I do.

You're gonna be late.

Yes, really quite a treat.

I've got a couple of burglaries,
a car theft...

Nothing much to hurry in for.

If someone doesn't get m*rder*d
soon, you'll only get tetchy.

No, I won't.

See? You already are.

No, I am not!

Oh, I'll get it.

- Cully!
- Dad, hi!

This is a surprise. I thought you
were on your way to Poland?

Yea we are. No, I'll explain.

- This is Brad, by the way.
- Hello Brad.

We've only got a minute.

Come in, come in. Your mum's in.

Does he talk?

Shhhh!

So we're joining the rest
of the group in Paris,

and then we're gonna go on by train.

Will they understand Much
Ado About Nothing in Poland?

Dad, it's Shakespeare.
They understand him everywhere.

The way Brad's directed it, its very...

Non-verbal?

Visual.

So, what brings you all the
way out here, darling?

Not that we're not
pleased to see you.

It's got nothing to do
with that wicker basket

you've been trying hard
not to let me see, is it?

You would notice, wouldn't you?

His name's Kilmouski.

He's a Russian blue.

- It's yours?
- Yeah, I sort of adopted him.

Oh, don't tell me you're looking
for new foster parents.

Well, it's just while I'm away.

He's very clean.
He won't be any trouble.

I'll bring you some Polish vodka.

Bribery now, is it?

It's just for three weeks.

Besides, mum says
you weren't very busy.

Well, that is true.

Never noticed it was so quiet.

Just make sure you
remember to come home.

Hello.

Oh, Honoria!

Are you all right?

Yes, I'm fine.

No, you're crying.

- No, it's hay fever.
- Hmm.

Can I help you, Honoria?

Yes, you said you might have
some more papers coming in.

Navy News?

Oh, yes. Yes, they're over here.

What a pretty table.

You have so many pretty things, my dear.

I suppose it comes
from being in trade.

Yes.

They're from the ' s, ' and ' .

And I don't know if thats of any interest?

They might be, indeed.

Excuse me.

The Spinning Wheel.
How can I help you?

Oh no, we don't often get many of those.

- Ah, you could try Causton.
- Well, I'll be blowed!

If you like to leave your telephone number,

if I see one, I'll certainly let you know.

Bye.

Honoria?

The meeting isn't until : , Honoria.

You're home early.

I thought dragon were
suppose to breath fire?

Oh! He hasn't learnt
to do that yet.

- It's the story.
- I'm going to have a bath.

Get ready for dinner.

Max Jennings. I've finished
his book. It's very good.

Oh and I am glad, while I was out working,
you had time for a nice read.

If you've got any strength left,
maybe you can bring me a cup of tea.

Amy!

Can I give you a hand?

Oh no, no, I'm all right.
Just getting the shopping.

Amy...

Are you all right, Gerald?

No. As a matter of fact, I'm not.

The thing is...

...I'm afraid.

Afraid?

Max Jennings.

The writer who's coming tonight.

What about him?

I knew him. A long time ago.

Amy, I...
I want you to do me a favour.

I don't want you to leave
the two of us together.

Not for one minute.

Would you promise me that?

Why, yes, of course.

I just don't..., don't want to be
leave alone with him, that's all.

When you say a book is 'true',

I don't think it has to be literally 'the truth'.

I mean that's not what
writing is all about.

You take the truth and you
spin something from it.

You're creating something new,

you're not recording something old.

Anyway, I've been talking
quite long enough now, so

in conclusion I would
just like to say this.

Writers need stamina.

We need a wayfaring mind!

Nothing should be
beneath our attention.

But, above all,

we need luck.

And that's what I wish all of you.

Thank you.

Well, I can't stay very
long, I'm afraid.

I'm flying off to a signing
session tomorrow.

But um, are there any questions?

Gerald?

No.

I'd like to ask a question, Mr. Jennings.

Max, please.

Well, I was wondering...

I'm writing a history of England.

Oh really?

As seen from the personal
chronicles of my family.

The Lyddiards.

Here we go...

Which I've traced back
to the fourteenth century.

And the line continues all
the way to the Falklands.

Where my late brother Ralph, served
as an officer on H.M.S. Celeste.

Actually, I do have a question.

Yes?

You were talking about the truth.

In fiction.

So I'd be interested to know...

Where do you get your ideas?

Mainly from experience.

Well, that's interesting.

Because, you see, I don't have any
experience that I can write about.

Not now.

I'd like to ask something.

I wondered how you manage to
make your characters so real?

I worked as a psychiatrist
before I took up writing, so

I feel... that I know people.

I wonder if your characters
ever surprise you.

In what way?

Well, you think you know them.

You think they're one thing,

and then they turn out to
disappoint you completely.

Well, I suppose that can happen, yes.

Anyone else?

- I'm writing a children's book.
- Oh, yes?

- It's about a dragon called Hector.
- Ahem!

And my husband's writing a play.

Actually, I'd say I was...
building it.

For me it's a totally passe word.
And elitist.

Which word?

What?

Which word is elitist?

Building? Writing?

Or playing?

Writing. You know, we're...

rapping.

We're improvising, we're
about free association!

You should come to one
of my rehearsals, Max!

You might find it... dangerous.

Well, I'd love to, but unfortunately

I have to go.

I have a long journey tomorrow.

Thank you very much for inviting me.

It's been a most...

instructive evening.

I'll get your coat.

Thank you Mr. Jennings.

Thanks.

Where off to?

Got a busy day tomorrow,
marking, rehearsal, staff meeting.

You should try a shifted and
modern comprehensive, Max.

Then you really have something
to write about.

Thank you, Max.

- That was really interest...
- Good luck with the children's book.

I'd like to have heard more about it.

Home, Amy!

- Actually, Honoria...
- What?

I was thinking...

Really? I didn't think you could
manage that on your own.

- Your coat.
- Thank you.

You're leaving?

Yes.

That's all right.
We can all go together.

Well, goodbye, Gerald.

Thank you for inviting me.

I didn't.

Well, it was good to see you anyway.

- Mr Jennings...
- I'm on my way.

Well there is something I actually
do want to know. Mr. Jennings.

Who do you think will be the best person
to approach once my history's finished?

I don't want it published
by just any old firm.

Well, I'm afraid I'm not
the person to ask, Mrs...

Miss Lyddiard.

Most of my contacts
are in the field of fiction.

Really?

To be quite frank, we were expecting
a much broader range of knowledge.

Honoria!

Stupid of me, but I seem to
have forgotten my gloves.

I'll say good night.

How very rude!

We've got to go back in.

What?

I promised Gerald!

What did you promise Gerald?

What's it matter, anyway?

Well, Gerald and Max...

It's late. We're going home. Now!

Your gloves.

Any chance of a nightcap?

I thought you were flying out.

To a signing session.

- Gerald...
- What are you doing?

Why did you come here?

I came to see you.

Mr Hadleigh?

Hello?

Can you move these people further back?

Yes, sir.

There's nothing to see.

- Morning, Troy.
- Morning, sir.

You got a name?

Gerald Hadleigh... if it is him.

He's not quite recognisable.

It's just in here, sir.

Oh, where the blood and the
police photographers are?

Thank you, Troy!

- Morning, Tom.
- Morning.

Do we have the w*apon?

I've had it bagged up.

In the bedroom with a candlestick!

And before you ask, I'd say between
: last night and : in the morning.

It doesn't look as if he
put up much of a struggle.

No.

And then there's the question of clothes.

He's not wearing any.

I tell you what there, Tom.

Whoever did it must have
been in a hell of a temper.

Probably k*lled him with the first
blow and then just went on bashing.

Yes, George, I saw that.

Did you notice the cupboard, sir?

If you mean the cupboard that
seems to have been emptied

it had caught my attention, yes.

Okay, so where's this
cleaning lady of yours?

I've never...

No, I... I've never seen...

Y-you know...

a dead person before.

You all right to carry on?

Now, let's start with this morning.

When I got here, the house
was in a bit of a mess.

There was stuff left over from last night.

There was some sort of writers' evening.

Was there anything unusual?

Yeah. He..

... his wife's photograph.

She's dead, and he always
kept it in the same place.

Just there.

When I come in this morning,
it was moved.

So where was it?

Well someone had put it in the drawer.

- Did you ever meet her?
- No.

He never talked about his wife.

He was a very... private man.

So you came into the house,

you noticed the photograph,

and then you went upstairs?

I knew there was something wrong.

Did you go into the bedroom?

Of course I didn't go in!

Do you think I'm mad?

I took one look and I saw him.

Stark naked on the carpet with his
head bashed in and I scarpered!

Well of course I didn't bloody go in!

So, she didn't go in.

Yes, I think we have
established that, Troy.

It could have been opportunistic, sir.

A sneak thief caught unawares.

He could have been surprised in
the bedroom and just panicked.

See that Rolex watch
on the bedside table?

Yeah.

A sneak thief would hardly
leave that behind, would he?

Now, what about these writers?

There were six of them.

Brian and Sue... Clapper.

Amy and Honoria Lyddiard,
they're sisters-in-law.

Laura Hutton. She owns
the local antique shop.

And then there was a visiting writer.

But Mrs Bundy didn't know his name.

Got any addresses?

Well, the Clappers just live over there.

He's a teacher at Causton Comprehensive.

Right! We'll start with them.

Oh, and I'll be interested to
know what car Hadleigh drove.

Why?

The garage, Troy.
It's empty.

The Midsomer Worthy Writers Circle.

We meet once a month.

Of course, there'll be more space at
Grasham Hall, that's Honoria's house.

She wouldn't have it,
ever since Ralph died.

Mind you, the place is like a morgue.

Freezing cold, even in
the middle of summer.

Who was Ralph?

Her brother.
She worshipped him.

Amy was his wife.
Now she lives there.

If lives is the right word.

Confession. Talked out of turn.

Poor Gerald! Still so hard to believe.

How would you describe
Gerald Hadleigh last night?

Was he happy? Sad?

Tense. Definitely tense.

I thought perhaps he and Laura
might have had some sort of a row.

They were usually so close, but
last night she was distinctly frosty.

Mind you. Probably had something
to do with Max Jennings.

Gerald was dead set against his coming.

Max Jennings, he was the visiting writer?

Yes. Brian, t-that's my husband,

had to invite him
because Gerald wouldn't.

How well did you know
Gerald Hadleigh?

Not very well. Nobody did.

We've been here about five years

and he'd already been
here a couple of years.

He was a very quiet man.

Did you know his wife?

No. He never spoke about her.

I asked him once.
He got quite upset.

Did you happen to see Max Jennings
leave after the meeting?

No.

What about your husband?

Brian... and I... We went
to bed straightaway.

Brian was asleep the moment
his head touched the pillow.

Sound asleep.

Did YOU sleep?

Oh, not immediately.

And I did hear a car pull away,

it must have been a
little after midnight.

Well, that could have
been Gerald Hadleigh's car.

No! Gerald's car was stolen
the other day in Causton.

She was definitely lying
about that husband of hers.

Which is why we must try to get to
him first, before she reaches him.

Causton Comprehensive.

You have a problem?

I went there, sir.
' to ' .

It's a pity they didn't teach
you how to drive!

That's the library.

Science block over there.

I always hoped I'd
never come back.

You weren't happy here then?

I couldn't wait to get out!

Here! I know you, don't I?

- Gavin Troy.
- Hello, Mr Belgrove.

Who are you, then?

I'm Chief Inspector Barnaby.
I'm with the police.

Oh, yeah.

Always said he'd come to no good.

A bit late bringing
him back here, isn't it!

See what I mean?

And now, gently on the knees.

Bend those knees up and down.

And shake it out!

Shake it out!

You've got a piece of sticky
tape on your fingers...

Everybody get it off,
shake it out!

Remember, making pictures now.

Adventure!

Explore!

Reach out...

Reveal.

Mm, interesting warm-up
technique, Edie. Hur-hur!

Thanks, Brian.

Okay...

Gather round, earthlings!

Whoo! Right, we're two acts down.

We've done some good work,

but now we need something
for the end of the play.

Well, who can tell
me what we need?

I need a f*g.

Yea, good one, Denzel.

All right, all right, I'll
tell you what we need.

It's called...

a coup de theatre.

Curly what?

A coup de theatre.

The big scene! The wrap!

♪ I'm walking down the street
The other day

Right, okay.
Now, think.

Well get into character if it helps.

Drop dead, you scum-bag!

What?!

It's my character, Brian.

Remember?

Er, yes. Careful now!
No, not there!

No, ple...

Mr Clapper!

That's enough!

- Mr Clapper!!
- What is it, Miss Planter!

Some policemen have just
arrived in school, Mr Clapper.

They want to have a word.

Oh? Evening, all. Ahem!

Right, um... I'll be right back.

Just think coup de theatre.

See if you can surprise me.

Dead?!

God, I was actually there, you know.
Yesterday!

Yes sir. We've already spoken to your wife.

Yeah?

Well, I'm sure she wouldn't
have told you anything.

How can I help you?

What can you tell me about
this visiting writer, Max Jennings?

A reactionary fossil.

Not a clue about contemporary drama.

Hardly surprising, when you
consider the stuff he turns out.

You don't like his books, sir?

Haven't read 'em.

But it was you who invited him.

Only because Gerald
got so uptight, yes.

You've no idea why he was so upset?

I never asked him, no.

Did you see him at all in the hours
before the writers' group met?

He wasn't in.

I saw Honoria Lyddiard
knocking at his door,

must have been about four.

She wasn't getting any reply.

Can you tell us anything
about him. His background?

He was a civil servant
who'd taken early retirement,

a platinum handshake and a fat pension.

I've no time for people like him.

Oh, I'm sure.

So um, can we get back
to yesterday evening?

What time did you leave the group?

Well, I would have thought
my wife would have told you.

- Ten fifteen.
- And you went straight home?

Yes, and straight to sleep.

Are you quite sure about that, sir?

My yea is my yea and my
nay is my nay, Inspector!

And I've just told you I didn't go out.

Hur-hur-hur!

I'm sure you can find
your own way out.

Mr Clapper!

I've forgot to tell you,
your wife telephoned.

Too bloody late!

Gresham House

Honoria Lyddiard's home.

You ever seen Frankenstein, sir?

No.

This must be where they filmed it.

Can't you read?

No hawkers, no circulars.

Go away! I shall call the police.

Mrs Lyddiard?

Miss Lyddiard. Yes.

We are the police.

Causton CID.

Can we go inside?

If you must.

There's very little I can tell you,
Chief Inspector.

I hardly knew Gerald Hadleigh.

It seems that hardly anyone in
the village did, Miss Lyddiard.

I saw him once a month.

The writers' circle, that's all.

You were seen at his house on the
afternoon of his death, Miss Lyddiard.

Knocking at the door.

Are you trying to suggest this horrible
business has got anything to do with me?

I'd agreed to help with the food.

Gerald said he'd contribute towards the cost

and I went round to collect the money.

Honoria, have you heard...?

Oh.

These people are from the police.

And you are...?

Amy Lyddiard.
Honoria's sister-in-law.

So it's true about Gerald.

We are investigating a m*rder,
Mrs Lyddiard, yes.

Oh, dear!

Did you both come back here
after the writers' evening?

Yes.

We drove home together.

And then?

I retired straightaway.
I had a bad headache.

The visitor, Max Jennings,
had been allowed to smoke.

Disgusting habit.

And you, Mrs Lyddiard?

Not quite straightaway.

I... made us drinks.

Um, cocoa, actually.

They don't want to know every
detail of our domestic life, Amy.

I'm sorry.

Why don't you tell them
how much sugar you put in too?

I'll say good day.

I'm sorry?

I'm a Lyddiard.

As is my late brother's wife.

Our name is woven into the very
warp and woof of England.

Above reproach.

I suggest you pursue
your enquiries elsewhere.

- Warp and what?
- Woof.

Honoria adored my husband,
Chief Inspector.

Her brother... that's him there.

After he died I had no money,
so she let me live with her.

I do some light housework in return.

Well, most of it, really.

Thank you.

Mrs Lyddiard, what can you tell
me about Gerald Hadleigh?

He was terrified of...

of meeting Max Jennings.

Oh, Chief Inspector.

This is all my fault!

He asked me not to leave
the two of them together.

Not for a minute!

And I promised him.

Gerald Hadleigh?

Yes!

He said...

he was frightened.

And I said I'd stay.

But then everything went wrong.

Why? What happened?

We were the last to leave...

Honoria, Max Jennings and me.

And then...

"I seem to have
forgotten my gloves."

How very rude!

We've got to go back in there.

I wanted to go back in,

but Honoria was
in a hurry to leave.

So I left him.
On his own!

Mrs Lyddiard, can you
remember who it was

suggested inviting Max
Jennings in the first place?

That was me!

God! How can people live like that?

Don't think Amy Lyddiard's got a choice.

I wonder what she'd do to get away?

What's the matter with you?

Nothing, Honoria.

It's just all been so sudden.

Afraid I can't help you, Mr Barnaby.

My husband isn't here.

He flew to Denmark after that writers'...

thing.

Signing books.

Max is very big in Denmark.

Did he come back here after the
writers' group meeting, Mrs Jennings?

No. It was easier to
overnight at Heathrow.

Do you remember
the name of the airline?

No.

Well, do you know
how we can reach him?

No. Have to ask his secretary.

Bouncing Barbara!

She made the reservations.

Barbara?

Barbara Neale.

That's her name.

Do you know where we
can get in touch with her?

No, not really. Look,
will you excuse me?

I really don't think this...
(SLURS) ..do with me.

Swimming in her jewels?

You know this Barbara Neale.

While you're at it, check the passenger
lists of all the flights to Denmark.

- Do you think Max Jennings...
- Right. And stop here.

You idiot!

Bookshop sir?

Yes Troy.
Books.

So, who was he?
The victim.

I'm not sure.

The more I hear about him,
the less I seem to know the man.

He was Gerald Hadleigh,
ex-civil servant from Kent.

But that's all!

His house? Didn't tell
me a thing about him.

What do you mean?

Well he had no character.

There were no souvenirs, no mail,
no personal documents,

not even a driving license.

Just a photograph of his dead wife.

Just one photograph.

Don't that strike you strange?

How many have you got of me?

Well, I have two of you,
in my wallet.

Whoever k*lled Hadleigh

took away his suitcase.

How do you know that?

Well, there was a set of three
and another one was missing.

Brown suitcase with initial G.H.

Ya.

Where's the cat?

Kilmouski?

I haven't seen him.

Joyce!

He's lonely.

I don't care if he's maniacally depressed,
he's not sleeping there.

Just for tonight.

Not tonight, not ever.

Aren't you coming to bed?

No.

I'm not sleepy. I'm going out.

You were out last night too.

You didn't tell them that?

Who?

Dixon of Dock Green
and his fascist sidekick.

No.

Goose stepping in and then trick me.

Trick you into what?

Doesn't matter.

You didn't tell them?

No. But you were
out last night, Brian.

Where did you go?

Round the Green.
Blow the cobwebs.

Then why didn't you tell them that?

Why did you have to lie?

Oh, forget it.
Just forget it!

Morning, sir.

Good morning.

I've got that information
on Hadleigh's car, sir.

A blue Celica.

Registration Papa Alpha Papa Charlie,

reported stolen between
: and : in Causton.

Who reported it?

He did, from home.

It was logged at five to midnight.

Doesn't that strike you as odd?

What?

Well, the car is stolen between
: and : in Causton,

but he doesn't report
it for another hour.

And why wait till he gets home?

There was something else, sir.
Max Jennings.

I checked all the flights to Denmark
from Heathrow and Gatwick,

and all the ferries.

He wasn't on any of them.

What was the name of that secretary?

Bouncing Barbara!

I look after all Max's paperwork.

VAT returns, fan mail, book signings...

Appearances...

Wouldn't it be easier
to work at his house?

Max keeps his business and
his private life very separate.

Did you organize his flight to Denmark?

No.

Usually I would, but for some reason
Max said he'd do that one himself.

And the hotel?

Yes. I can't think why.

I did ask him, but er, he
just told me to forget it.

Was he meeting his publisher?

I don't know.

I really can't help you.
Max didn't say anything.

The Midsomer Worthy Writers' Circle.
Did he mention it?

Yes, he told me he was going.

I would have thought that half a
dozen amateurs in a little village,

hardly worth the trouble for
a writer like Max Jennings.

That's what I thought, but uh...

he knew one of them.

Gerald Hadleigh.

Yes. That was the name.

Max said he wanted to see him.

Were they friends?

I don't think so.

I got the feeling...

Max was afraid of him.

So which way round was it?

According to Amy Lyddiard, Gerald
Hadleigh was afraid of Max Jennings.

Now his secretary tell us,

it was Max Jennings who was
afraid of Gerald Hadleigh!

Well maybe they were afraid of each other.

Oh, that's very helpful, Troy.

She's certainly scared of something.

Oh yes.

If you ask me, she's
having it away with him.

She knows he did it, she knows
where he is, and she's hiding it.

- You all right?
- Yes.

It could be your washing
powder, you know.

- If its biological...
- Yes, thank you, Troy! Thank you.

I still haven't met anyone who
actually knew Gerald Hadleigh.

He had a wife.
What was her name?

What did she die of?
Where did he come from?

There's still Laura Hutton, what?

We still haven't questioned her,
and according to Brian Clapper,

her and Gerald Hadleigh could
have been banging each other.

Banging each other.

What a delightfully picturesque
turn of phrase.

Alright.

Back to Midsomer Worthy,
and this time I'll drive.

I didn't really know Gerald, you know?

I'm sorry.

We met once a month at the
writers' group and that was all.

Just out of interest, what sort of books
were you all writing, Mrs Hutton?

Gerald was writing a spy thriller.

Sue, a children's book.

Brian, a rather dreadful play.

I believe Amy wasn't writing anything,
although she did talk about poetry.

And of course there's Honoria
and her family history.

She's always in and out of here.

In fact, she came in that afternoon.

About : , the afternoon
before it happened.

What for?

Old magazines.

London Illustrated News,

Life Magazine, Navy News.

She's fanatical about it!

Anything to do with her family
or her brother Ralph in particular.

As a matter of fact,
she stole one of those.

Do you know which one?

Mm. June ' . They're in order, you see.

She probably found another
cutting for her book.

And what about you, Mrs Hutton?

I'm sorry?

What were you writing?

I was writing a romance.

Did you show it to Gerald Hadleigh?

Why do you ask?

Oh yes of course, I know people talk
about me and Gerald, Gerald and me.

Well, it's a village.
One expects that sort of thing.

And...

it's true that I uh,

I did find Gerald quite... attractive.

But he never once
reciprocated my feelings.

Not once.

We have been told that there was
a certain amount of tension

between you and Mr Hadleigh
on the night of his death.

Who told you that?

Please, Mrs Hutton?

Very well.

I'm a broad-minded person, you know.

And what Gerald did in his
own time was his own affair.

He was, after all, a man.

Well I happened be to passing his house

the night before we met for the writers' circle.

I'm a bad sleeper, and I often
go out walking quite late at night.

That night, it must have been about...

ten to twelve, maybe a little earlier,

and that's when I saw it.

A woman arrived in a local Causton cab.

She paid the driver, got out

and walked towards Gerald's house.

I thought she was going to ring
the bell, but she let herself in.

She had a key!

She was quite obviously a prost*tute!

How can you be sure?

Oh, her clothes!

The way she walked!

What happened?

Now, I'm not normally a nosy person.

But I have to admit, I was aroused.

My curiosity, that is.

I went a little closer,

and that was when I saw them.

He'd given her a glass of wine, and...

she was toasting him and laughing!

Now I didn't mind being rejected by Gerald,
I didn't mind at all,

but to think of him turning to that sort...

- You were angry.
- No, I wasn't angry!

I was disappointed.

Mrs Hutton, you didn't by any chance
go back there the following evening,

after the writers' meeting?

Well, as a matter of fact I did.

I couldn't sleep, so I went out.

At half past twelve,

I arrived just in time to
see Max Jennings leave.

It was clear to me he'd
had too much to drink.

He took quite a while
getting into the car.

Did you see Gerald Hadleigh?

No, but there was a light was on upstairs
in what I imagine was his bedroom.

Anyway, I was just about
to leave when I saw...

It was Brian Clapper!

And... he went home?

I don't know.

He could have gone anywhere. I left!

You see, I didn't want to be seen outside
Gerald's house in the middle of the night.

I mean it could have been misconstrued.

So! Brian Clapper was lying.

Yes.

And he'll still be at school.

You gonna have another go then, sir?

No Troy, you can do that.

Oh, I like that.

So how's the play going, Mr Clapper?

Well, obviously all these interruptions...

You didn't tell us
what it was called.

Slang-Whang For Five Mute Voices.

Working title.

It's very demanding, you know, but they're
a great bunch of kids. Some real talent.

The Carters, especially.
Edie And Tom.

They're terrific.

Life's stacked against them,
but they never give up!

The girl, especially.

Edie...

There was just one detail we
wanted to get straight, Mr Clapper.

Oh, yes?

You told us...

that you went home at :

- and went straight to bed.
- Yes.

Well, we have a witness who says

they saw you returning home
some time after midnight.

What?!

You are aware this is a
m*rder investigation?

Yes.

Well, that night, um...

Right. I did go out, yes.

For a drive.

Blow the cobwebs. Don't know
why I forgot to mention it.

Did you see anyone
outside Plover's Rest?

No.

Yes. There was someone.

But I didn't see them.

I was sort of, um...

behind the car, you see.

And someone did walk past.

I didn't see who it was.

Can you tell us actually where
you went that night, sir?

No.

You weren't perhaps on your
way to some sort of... tryst?

Tryst?!

No, of course not!

I was walking. Just walking.

I woke up and I went
for a wank. Walk.

I bet he went round the whole estate.

What's that girl he was going on about?

Edie. Trying to get a look
into her bedroom window.

You're enjoying that,
didn't you, Troy?

Seven years misery here.

It's nice to get a bit of revenge.

Oh, yes!

- Did they arrest you, Brian?
- Are you a suspect?

- I bet you did it, Brian.
- What did you do, Brian?

- Was it the money?
- He's the k*ller! Aagghhh!

All right. Now, now get up, get up!

Just sit down!

Now. Ahem!

We've only got a few minutes left.

So uh, how's this scene
of yours coming on?

You mean our coup de theatre?

Yea we've been, er...
working on it, Brian.

Well, I don't see much evidence of it.

We meet again next Friday.

If you haven't got anything for me by then,

I'll have to write it for you!

Edie?

Brian, can I have a word?

Yeah, sure. What is it?

I really need to talk to you.

Well, that's what I'm here for.
Hur-hur!

Hello?

Oh...

come on!

Off!

It's a wonderful book.

I'm not surprised its a bestseller.

You should read it.

I gave it to you.

Well, it's the story of a
young boy, an Irish boy.

'His name is Liam Hanlon.'

'Liam lives on a farm, near
Durrow in southern Ireland.'

'It's a horrible life.'

'He's abused by his father sexually.'

Liam...

'When he's thirteen years old,

Liam sh**t his father with his
own shotgun and runs away.'

Liam!!!

'He meets a man, an artist.'

And they travel together,
first in Europe and then Turkey.

Oh, the far away hills.

Jennings has a wonderful
way with language. Listen.

Is it autobiographical?

It reads that way.

Liam has bought a flat overlooking the Albert Hall.

How did he get the money?

From the artist.

He's painted him lots of time,
always in historical dress

and they've made a fortune.

Anyway, listen.

'He lies on the bed, the cushion
cool against the curves of his neck,

and traces his past against
the mouldings on the ceiling.'

John!

I'm sorry. Must have got the flu from Troy.

Sorry, go on. It's good, it's good.

- You'd better get that.
- I'm sorry.

Yes?!

I'm on my way.

We found Max Jennings.

He's inside, sir.

Oh, surprise me, Troy.

Bit far afield for you, isn't it George?

It's my case too, Tom,
and I fancied a day by the sea.

So is he, by the look of things.

So what do you think?

He's been dead hours or more.

Poison?

I won't be surprised.
Look at the eyes.

Bilateral ptosis, and there's a little
pigmentation at the hair root.

Are you all right?

Yeah, why?

It's a pretty nasty rash
at the side of your neck.

I suppose that's it, then.

That's what, Troy?

The end of the case.

What do you mean?

Well, we already know that
Gerald Hadleigh and Max Jennings

knew each other in the past.

There must have been some sort
of feud and it got out of control.

Jennings bludgeoned Hadleigh to death,

and then when he came to his
senses and realised what he'd done

he came down here and ended it all

rather than face the music.

That's what you think, is it?

Yes.

Well, I don't.

Who was Gerald Hadleigh?

What was he before he
came to Midsomer Worthy?

Whatever happened to his wife?

We still don't even know her name.

It's like... a blank jigsaw.

We've got some of the pieces,
but not even the start of a picture.

Let's take the day
Gerald Hadleigh died.

Honoria Lyddiard
visits Laura Hutton.

'The Spinning Wheel.
How can I help you?'

And she steals a newspaper.

Actually steals a newspaper!

If you like to leave me
your telephone number...

We know from Brian Clapper that she went
straight from the shop to Gerald Hadleigh.

Meeting isn't until : , Honoria!

Why?

Well, she said it was to do with the catering.

It was a bit late in the day to
be worrying about the food!

And then when the evening was finished,

why did Max Jennings
go back into the house?

Why didn't Amy Lyddiard
managed to stop him?

Well, I promised Gerald.

And if Jennings did k*ll him,

what about the empty cupboard
and the missing suitcase?

What was taken?

And why was Hadleigh
naked when he died?

And we still got to think about
the night before the m*rder.

Thanks, love.

This woman Laura Hutton
claims she saw. Who was she?

And if Laura Hutton was in
love with Gerald Hadleigh,

could she have been jealous
enough to bash his head in

for unrequited love?'

Right.

I want you to check every minicab in Causton

till you find the one that dropped
off the blonde woman

in Midsomer Worthy in
midnight on the st.

Do a complete background
on Gerald Hadleigh,

and do the same for Max Jennings.

- On my desk, : tomorrow morning.
- Sir.

It's time we got to work.

You all right, sir?

Yes.

What news on Hadleigh?

We've got no record of his marriage,

we can't find an insurance number,

there's no birth certificate and the
civil service has never heard of him.

What is he, then?
The invisible man?

How about the taxi driver?

We're still looking.

Well, there is one thing, though.

We found his car, the Celica.

No surprises there.
A straightforward TDA.

Wrecked and dumped in the river.

Well at least that's something.

Oh, and Barbara Neale's here.

Bouncing Barbara.

I hope you realise I could have you
charged right now, with obstruction.

I didn't mean to.

I didn't want to but
what else could I do?

You could have told us the truth!

And saved us all a lot of time.

That seaside cottage was
booked for two, wasn't it?

Max Jennings and you!

All right.

When did it start?

Um, Max used to be a psychiatrist
before he was a writer.

I was his receptionist.

Then I was his secretary.

And then...

We've been seeing each
other for two years.

You knew he was dead, didn't you?

Tell me.

There was no Denmark.

That-that was just what we told Selina.

The plan was, we were
going to meet there.

At the cottage.

He'd gone down the night before,
and I followed.

It was easier for us
to go down separately.

Max?

I got there about... lunchtime.

Maxie, darling?

You're not in bed already!

Maxie?

Max?

He was lying there on the bed.

I thought he must have had
a heart attack or something.

I never dreamt...

What more could I do?

I couldn't tell you about him
without telling about us.

I mean...

... nobody knew.

Nobody.

We could have saved hours
if she'd been straight with u-

- Bless you.
- g*dd*mn, what is wrong with me?

- Sir?
- What?!

Gerald Hadleigh.
We've found his solicitor.

What sort of man was
Gerald Hadleigh, Mr Jocelyne?

Well, he was a very private man.

Unusually reserved.

But we looked after
his legal affairs for him,

including the purchase of
Plover's Rest seven years ago.

Do you know where
Gerald Hadleigh came from?

London. I can't tell you more than that.

Although I believe he did
retain a property there.

How do you know?

We handled the purchase.

Though no sale.

I'm sure more details will come
in once we have probate.

Oh, you're handling his will as well, eh?

Oh, yes, that's right, yes!

We'd be grateful for any details.

Ah, well, I...

This is a m*rder investigation,
Mr Jocelyne.

Er, quite.

It's very straightforward.

The bulk of his fortune went to
the St Martin's School of Art.

Mr Hadleigh wished to
endow two scholarships.

Was there a lot of money involved?

Oh, yes, indeed!

How much, exactly?

In cash?

Oh, at least two and
a half million pounds.

- What?!
- Whooo....

Are there any personal bequests?

Oh, yes, indeed.
Let us see.

Here we are.
Now, then...

- He left £ to a Mrs Bundy.
- His cleaner.

And £ , to the local cricket team.

Oh, yes. He left a picture, an oil
painting, to a Mrs Laura Hutton.

Ah yes, and a somewhat
larger sum of £ , .

Who to?

A hundred thousand pounds?!
Well, goodness!

Did you know that Mr Hadleigh was
planning to leave you something,

Mrs Lyddiard?

He did sometimes joke about it.

He said it would amuse him
to 'rescue' me from Honoria.

When did you come to live here?

It was after Ralph died.

We had a little house in Spain.

We were trying to make a life there.

But Ralph got ill.

I wrote to Honoria, of course.

The next day, she just arrived!

She nursed him.

She did everything for him.

It was as if I wasn't there.

And then after Ralph died,

she talked to the doctors.

She brought his body back to England.

I didn't have a penny.
There was nothing I could do.

And there's nothing more you can tell us
about Gerald Hadleigh about that night?

Huh, I wish I'd gone back.

I should have. I promised him.

But you didn't.

I told you, I was making us hot drinks.

Honoria had hers in the study.

I had mine in bed.

It's the warmest room in the house.

Will you leave, now you have money?

Oh, yes, of course.

I hate it here.

I can, can't I?

I'm rich!

Amy, haven't you started the lunch?

These officers have come to give me
some news, Honoria. Good news.

Well I'm sure it's of
no interest to me.

Oh, as a matter of fact,
there was something

we wanted to ask you, Miss Lyddiard.

What?

Well, it's only a detail, but
I'd be interested to know.

What was it that you
saw in the Navy News

that you took from Mrs Hutton's shop?

I suppose she told you about that.

Do you deny it?

We just want to know what was in it.

It's on page five.

There was a picture of the Leicester.

That was Ralph's ship.

Exactly. I took it for my book.

Could I see it?

Just out of interest?

This is it, here.

My brother Ralph rose to be
a Sub-Lieutenant, you know.

He received two commendations.

He would have been an
admiral, I'm sure of it.

There.

'On leave in Antalya.'

I really don't see what
bearing it can have on your case.

Well, as I said, Miss Lyddiard,
it's just out of interest.

Well, that doesn't get us anywhere.

Oh, I don't know, Troy.

There was something she said in there.

Honoria?

No, not Honoria. Amy.

Here. Let me do that.

Honoria...

I must talk to you.

Must you?

I've decided to leave.

What?!

I've had enough.
I'm going.

- No, you can't.
- Yes, I can.

I promised Ralph I'd look after you.

Its not me you're interested in, Honoria.

It's Ralph you want, and he's dead.

Keeping me here won't bring him back.

Don't talk to me about Ralph.

He was my husband.

If you'd loved him enough,
he wouldn't have died.

I'll leave tomorrow. It will
be better for both of us.

No. You're a Lyddiard.
Blood and bone.

What?!

Blood and bone,
that's what counts.

Blood counts!
Bone counts!

- I'm sorry, Honoria.
- No!

I want to look after you.

I want to see you.

I need to have you here.

Laura, what's happening?

I'm closed. I'm leaving.

Leaving the village? But why?

I always used to think that if you
loved someone hard enough,

and for long enough,

they won't be able to
help loving you back.

- Well I've been very foolish.
- Gerald.

That was his.

He left it to me.

It's beautiful.

It's a Hilton Connix, you know.

One of the series historical
boys he painted in the ' s.

It's very valuable,
but I'll never sell it.

It reminds me of him.

His name's Baker.
He's over there, sir.

Thank you.

Yeah, I picked her up.

Er, I told your officer.
It was just after : .

She told me to drive to Midsomer Worthy.

When we got there,
she pointed out the house.

Other than that,
she never said a word.

Is there anything else
you tell me about her?

She was an ugly woman.
Tall, a lot of make-up.

Nice legs, though.

Where did you pick her up?

On the corner, just over there.

Well, thank you.
Thank you very much.

She could have come from anywhere.

Didn't you listen to what he said?

Cos' it could explain the empty wardrobe
and Hadleigh's bedroom.

And why he had no clothes on.

And maybe the photograph
of his dead wife too.

What, you think this
woman took his clothes?

No. No, I don't.

This is what we're looking for.

Er... what is this place?

What do you think?

We're not open yet!

Yeah, I thought Tr-... Troy
was going to have a seizure!

It was really very funny.

So Gerald Hadleigh was a tr*nsv*stite.

Yeah. He parked his car close to the club.

And then he must have walked
back to it in full woman's dress.

Of course it wasn't there.

Well he couldn't walk into Causton
CID just as he was.

And that's why he didn't report
his car stolen till he got home.

And the woman Laura Hutton saw?

Wasn't a woman at all.

It was dark.

And Laura Hutton was
hidden in the bushes.

She probably only got
a back view, anyway.

But I thought she saw Gerald Hadleigh
and the woman having a drink together.

That's what she thought she saw.

There was a mirror in there, Joyce.

And if you asked me, what Laura
Hutton saw was Gerald Hadleigh

toasting himself on his lucky escape.

My glands are swollen.

You're not looking at all well, Tom.

Shouldn't you see the doctor?

I'll shall see how I feel when I wake up.

It's only the flu.

Oh, hi Bri. I'm so glad you came.

Well if, if you need my help...
Hur-hur!

I do. Come in.

Here you are, Bri.

What is it?

Thunderbolt.
Mixed wine.

Apples and lemons and all that.

Oh. Cheers.

Um, are we... on our own?

Mum's out. With Tom.

So, then, young Edie...

What can I do for you?
Hur-hur-hur!

Let's sit down.

It's the play, Brian.
I'm nervous.

I'm never going to be able to stand
up in front of all those people.

Of course you are!

My accent's all wrong.

No, no, it's perfect.

You're perfect.

Believe me.

I don't like the character.

She really gets on my tits.

Tits.

Please say you'll help me, Brian.

I need you tell me I'm
going to be all right.

Oh God Edi, you're more than all right.

You're fantastic.
You're the best!

You don't know how much
I've dreamed of this.

- Oh, Brian!
- Oh, Edie!

This just came for you.

Bit early for the post, isn't it?

Wasn't in the post.
Hand-delivered.

No stamp.

Did you see who delivered it?

Didn't look.

Oh, did I tell you Laura Hutton's
leaving the village?

Seems very sudden!

Oh, and I spoke to Amy, too.

You won't believe what has happened.

- It's an absolute miracle!
- For God's sake, woman!

Will you just shut up?

What? What is it?

I got that report from Dr Bullard.

It was poison that k*lled Max Jennings.

Looks like he had it
in a glass of wine.

Valium sulphate.

Administered hours before he died.

That was when he was with
Gerald Hadleigh in Midsomer Worthy.

Valium sulphate's a slow-acting poison.

Hadleigh could have slipped
it into Jennings' drink

while he was still at Plover's Rest.

And Jennings could have
att*cked Gerald Hadleigh

without realising he was
already dying himself.

But the clothes.

Why take the clothes?

Well somebody didn't want us
to know he was a gender bender.

Chief Inspector Barnaby.

Oh yes, Chief Inspector,
James Jocelyne here.

Of Jocelyne, Tibbles and Delaney.

Yes, Mr Jocelyne?

I mentioned to you that Mr Hadleigh
had a property in London.

Yes.

Well I thought you ought to know I've just
received various documents from the bank.

Do you have an address?

Well, yes! That's why I telephoned you.

So, you got here, then?

Yes. Ahem!

Yes.

So what's all this about, then?

This is some sort of... joke, right?

I don't think it's very funny.

Raping a -year-old girl.

r*pe?

There was no r*pe!

You calling Edie a liar?

Which one are the police gonna believe?

What?!

We could come to an arrangement.

How does five thou strike you, Bri?

I haven't got £ , .

You can raise it, Bri.

A middle-class ponce like you?

No problem!

Why?

What have I ever done to you?

I just tried to help.

- Push off, Brian.
- Yes, get out.

Oh, Brian?

You left these.

So what did you think, Brian?

- Was it good?
- Ah, it was great!

How is that coup de theatre?

- What?!
- It was a scene.

You told us to work on a scene.

You said we had to surprise ya.

I bet we surprised ya!

A scene?!

Yeah. So would you like
to work it into the play.

You can do what you bloody well like!

I must have been mad ever
to have wasted five minutes,

let alone five months on any of you!

Or to have thought that the stinking
sewers that pass for your minds

could ever begin to understand
the first thing about

drama or literature!

Why don't you all crawl back
into the gutter where you belong?

And stay there!

And rot!

Scum!

Well, that wasn't very nice, was it?

Right.

Plan B.

Well, this is it.

Looks like there's a storm coming.

- You think he lived here, sir?
- Shhh!

Why do I feel as if
I know this place?

What?

I know this place.

I've been here.

You can't have. Can you?

MRS BARNABY: "It's the story
of a young boy. An Irish boy."

"Liam has bought a flat,
its overlooking the Albert Hall."

Of course. That's it!

It's a wonderful book.

It was all in the book!

Which book?

"He lies on the bed, the cushion
cool against the curves of his neck,

and traces his past against
the mouldings on the ceiling."

The book Max Jennings wrote
about Gerald Hadleigh.

That's how I know this flat.

It was in the book!

- It's not possible.
- Oh, yes, it is, Troy.

Look!

"His name is Liam Hanlon.

He meets a man, an artist."

"He's painted him lots of times,
always in historical dress."

"They travel together, first
in Europe and then Turkey."

Why didn't I read the book?

I should have read the book.

Liam Hanlon, the boy,
meets an artist.

The artist paints him in historical dress
and the paintings sell for a fortune.

It's all in there.

And Liam Hanlon...

Was Gerald Hadleigh. Ya.

He was sexually abused.
He k*lled his father.

And he runs away from home.

He gets rich, and then one day

he tells Max Jennings everything.

But why did he do that?

I mean, how did they meet?

Remember what
Bouncing Barbara said?

Max used to be a psychiatrist
before he was a writer.

Now, we already know
that Gerald Hadleigh

was a tr*nsv*stite or a transsexual,
whatever the term is.

Isn't it possible he visited a psychiatrist?

And that psychiatrist were Max Jennings...

What?

Jennings took what Hadleigh
told him and put it in a book?

The Far Away Hills.

Gerald Hadleigh was never married.

His life was a complete sham.

The photograph, the dead wife,
was just a prop.

He probably hid it that himself because
he knew Max Jennings might see it.

But Hadleigh was afraid of Jennings.

No, no.

That's what Amy
thought he was saying.

But Hadleigh was afraid of
being left alone with Jennings.

He was frightened of what he,
Hadleigh, might do to him.

Well, think about it, Troy.

What would you do
if you told someone,

professional healer, your friend,

all your innermost secrets?

Your entire life history.

And he turned it into
a bestselling book?

What would you do?

I'd k*ll him.

Exactly.

And that is what Hadleigh did.

And you want a drink?

I'll get you a drink.

We'll never know
exactly how he did it.

But after Max Jennings went
back into the house,

when the two were finally alone,

that must have been
when it happened.

Laura Hutton was outside
when Jennings came out.

She told us he took his
time getting into the car.

She thought he was drunk.

She was wrong.

He'd been poisoned, and he
was feeling the first effects.

So Gerald Hadleigh
k*lled Max Jennings.

But did Jennings k*ll Hadleigh?

No. I don't think so.

Laura Hutton saw Brian Clapper there.

And he saw someone else.

A third figure approaching the house.

But who was it?

It was whoever k*lled Gerald Hadleigh.

Sir?

- Urgh! More drag.
- What a surprise.

Found this in the same room, sir.

It's the same paper
Honoria Lyddiard had.

Another copy, yeah.

He received two commendations.

He would have been an admiral,
I'm sure of it.

There.

MRS BARNABY: "First in
Europe and then Turkey."

- Antalya.
- What?

It's a port in Turkey.

God, I must have been blind!

She folded this over
when she gave it to me.

It's the Leicester.

Not the ship, Troy. Use your eyes.
Down here, look, look, look.

But who are they?

That's Ralph Lyddiard.

Same face we saw in
his wife's photograph.

And the other?

It's Gerald Hadleigh.

Liam, the character in the novel,
spent time in Turkey.

But we now know that Liam
was actually Gerald Hadleigh.

Which means Gerald
Hadleigh was in Turkey.

Exactly. Which is where
he met Ralph Lyddiard.

- Antalya!
- Yeah.

That's what sent Honoria scuttling
around to Hadleigh's house.

She was besotted with her brother.

And here suddenly there was someone
in the village who actually knew him!

What are you doing?

I was getting a case, Honoria.

To pack.

Whose are these clothes?

This dress is covered in blood.

G, H.

This is Gerald's case, isn't it?

Honoria k*lled Gerald Hadleigh,
of course she did.

Amy almost gave her away
when she contradicted her.

When?

When we first asked Honoria about her
movements on the night of the m*rder,

do you remember what she said?

I retired straightaway.
I had a bad headache.

"Retired" didn't mean go to bed,
which is what I thought she meant.

Amy actually told us the next time we met.

Amy went to bed.
Honoria retired to the study.

And then she went out again
a few minutes later.

- Back to Gerald Hadleigh's.
- Yes.

I couldn't believe he'd known my Ralph.

My darling Ralph.

I tried to see him earlier that
afternoon, but he wasn't there.

And I couldn't talk with
all those people there.

So you went back that night.

Yes. I had to see him.

I couldn't wait.

Gerald?

I couldn't believe what I see.

So disgusting, so beneath contempt!

But I asked him about Ralph.

I had to know.

That's what I'd come for.

And do you know what he...

...what he told me?

Do you know what he said?

Yes, I knew him, your
dearest, darling Ralph!

We were lovers, Honoria.

I had him and he had me.

Now get out of my house!

No!

She k*lled him, and she must
have taken all the clothes.

She didn't want anyone to know.

She must be as mad as a hatter.

Hatters, Troy? Very sane people,
compared to Honoria Lyddiard.

You should have died too.
Not just him!

Oh, God! No! No!

What have you done?

It's Ralph!

You've brought him in here.

You're mad!

Jump.

Go on the window! Jump!

No! I'm not going to do it for you.

I'll fight. There'll be marks.

They'll know it's you!

Do you think I care?

I just want to see you die!

She said she wanted me to die.

She was waiting.

It was AIDS, wasn't it?

That's what k*lled Ralph. She knew.

And she hoped that... that...

She was waiting!

Go on, get her out of here.

- Cully!
- Dad!

Did you see Dr Preston?

Yes, I did.

It's not serious, is it?

I'm afraid it is, yes.

It seems I have an allergy.

An allergy? What to?

- Oh, no!
- Oh, yes!

What?

- Cats.
- Kilmouski.

Yes.

You mean all that scratching and sneezing.

It's not funny!

No. No, I'm sorry.

Cully?

You're not gonna take this
out on me, are you Dad?

Oh yes, I'm gonna make your life hell.