01x04 - Death in Disguise

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Why do you want to
meet out here for, Bill?

What's wrong with the house?

In case we need to drop our guard.

I have none.

I am as you see me.

Ten years, we said we'd give this place.

And then we'd cash in.

Time's up.

You've been fobbing me off.

Yes I know. But to a purpose, Bill.

I mean, look how far we've
come in those ten years.

A real journey of discovery,
wouldn't you say?

All I want to discover is
how much of it is mine.

And what about our fellow travellers?

Do we leave them

stranded at the crossroads of your
selfishness without directions?

Oh, for God's sake.

I'm fed up with that kind of talk.

If you want to stay on, fine.

Get the place valued,
buy me out.

I don't have the wherewithal,
you know I don't.

Then take it out alone.

I've got a far more exciting
proposition for you, Bill.

Stay on.

Carry on helping me to run the lodge,
recruit more travellers, I mean...

Look what we created here.

A way of life neither of
us ever dreamed of.

If I'd known you'd wind up
believing your own lies,

I'd never would have
come in with you.

Where's the old you?

The one who...

I know what I was capable of, Bill!
I don't need reminding of it.

Couldn't you remember
what I was capable of.

When people try to cheat me.

Where is everyone?

Arno, dear, go and seek them out.

Yes, May.

Oh, Trixie, dear, what are
you doing with this place?

Exactly what you asked me to do.

I didn't ask you to do this place.

This is my money.

You've got to give it to me.

DEATH IN DISGUISE

Greater love hath no fish than that
he lay down his life for my lunch.

How's the sauce coming?

It's a wee bit lumpy.

Tastes okay, though.

You remind me of someone ...

... Uncle Jack's birthday.

You wait till you taste it.

Now looks a bit clumpy.

It's May Cuttle from
The Lodge of the...

Oh, the cult in there.

Yes, the commie of the manor.
She's after me for everything.

Now where I am? Not here!

Leave her to me.

Treats me like her local bobby!

Well, that's cos you are, Dad.

I am, I can, I will get rid of her!

- Miss Cuttle. Actually we were just...
- I'm afraid this is terribly urgent.

Miss Cuttle. Um...

Mr Barnaby?

Miss Cuttle.

How are you?

- I am in the pink, Mr Barnaby.
- Oh, good.

Alas, Mr Carter is a
definite shade of grey.

Chief Inspector.
Welcome.

We haven't met, but May tells me that
your wife has attended one of our courses.

Assertion Training, I believe.

Oh, yes. I remember.

Twelve sessions at twenty quid a throw.

Plus VAT.

You must be...

This is an up and coming
Master, Chief Inspector.

Not so much master, more ...

map reader to my fellow pilgrims.

Ian Craigie.

Anything to worry about?

In life, Tom, almost always, but
in this bloke's death, nothing.

So he fell down the stairs and what?

Broke his neck.

You'll find it sticking out at
a rather convincing angle.

Who found the body, please?

Ken and Heather Beavers.

We were just off for a
walk on Combe Hill.

There's a druid slab there.

We plan to unlock its cosmic
energy, hence the eyes.

We've kept them on to assist
Bill in his passing over.

Has it helped?

[Indistinct chatter]

Yes, thank you, thank you.

Did anyone see him fall? Anyone?

Um, I think I'm right in saying the general
answer would be no, Inspector.

Thank you, Mr...?

- Gibbs. Arno Gibbs.
- Mr Gibbs.

He'd been drinking, Tom.
Whisky, by the smell of it.

Oh, no! You've got that quite
quite wrong! Bill can't...

I want statements.

Split them up before they
invent an official version.

Right, sir.

Right, ladies and gentlemen!

Ladies and gentlemen!

These officers will take statements.

This way.

Mr Craigie? A word?

I'd like to see Mr Carter's room.

Hey, where are you going?

What's your name?

Uh, this is Tim Riley, Inspector.

Well, let him speak for himself.
What's your name?

As a matter of fact, he
doesn't speak at all.

Is that because he can't
or because he won't?

You say that as if the first were
forgivable, the second a sin.

That would be the policeman in you.

Forever doubting.

Did you know Mr Carter well?

I thought so.

But clearly we were strangers.

Because he liked to drink
and you didn't know?

A cry for help, wouldn't you say?

Maybe he just liked having secrets.

That must be the downside
of communal living.

Don't have any privacy.

What other secrets, I wonder?

Such a wise companion.

Such a kind and generous man.

And yes, a great reader all his life.

I met him shortly after
he came out of prison.

I thought that would
interest you, Inspector.

Suhami, she calls herself.

Yes, she is, isn't she.

- What?
- Beautiful.

I'm a copper.
I notice things like that.

You have taken the driving
course, have you, Troy?

Yes, sir. Four or five times.

Thanks a lot, mate.

Ah! Well met, fellow seeker.

- Heather... Ken and Trixie.
- Hello.

- Follow me.
- Chris Wainwright.

Oh, yes. We have you down for a self
cleansing of the spiritual pathways.

That slight chill in the air.

No doubt you feel it.
Don't be alarmed.

It's only a departing spirit.

Departing spirit?
Has somebody died? Who?

His earthly name was William Carter.

Er... how did he die?

You mean transcend
to a higher plane.

Okay then, that.

He fell down the stairs
and broke his neck.

Shall I show you to your room?

Sorry about this, sir.

We don't need an inquest, surely.

A man fell down the stairs, pissed.

Just passing the buck, Troy.

Run William Carter
through the CRO mangle.

See what he was put inside for.

Minor fraud, Craigie said.

What did you make of him, sir?

What Craigie?

It's what Craigie made out of
me ten years ago that rankles.

Twenty times twelve is ã .

Plus VAT.

What is it, sir?
Your wife.

Assertion training?

If only it has been cooking.

Craigie and that boy Tim.
What do you reckon?

Hanky panky?

No, I don't think so.

I think Craigie is a rare thing.
A good man.

Remember them, Troy?

If you ask me, he's as dodgy
and daft as the rest of them.

Peace loving grow your own goods.

Well, it's a generation thing, Troy.

Some people grow out of it,
others got stuck.

Oh good, does that mean
we're mobile again?

Yes, sorry about that sir.

Detective Sergeant Troy.

Yea, hold on a sec.

Coroner's office.

Hello Sid.

Yea, William Carter,
you've heard about it?

Right, I don't think there's a problem,
but I rather be safe than sorry.

Cully!

How did it go?

Fifty other women auditioning
for the part. Fifty.

Let's go and grab a coffee
somewhere, shall we?

It's only a tin-pot little
company. Fifty!

But there are three witches.

That must shorten the odds
somewhat, mustn't it?

I bet you were fabulous.
When do you hear?

Who knows. Anyway why
are you all dressed up?

Going to a funeral.
Want to come?

Great force of light.

Despair of darkness.

Scourge of the negative orb.

We offer the ashes of your
servant, William Carter,

as a record of his earthly journey.

Let his spirit, revised
and redimensioned...

Question, sir.

What the hell are we doing here?

We are being polite, Troy.

At least, I am.

...as a Chohan of the First Ray.

We know in our humble,
insufficient hearts,

he will not disappoint.

And the coroner was right,
was it? Accidental death?

Bill Carter was a small-time con man.

You did the check yourself, didn't you?

No grudges against him,
no money owing.

And his death was an accident.

We commend.

We commend.

Inspector, Sergeant, thank you for coming.

Bill was so touched.

I'm sorry?

He came through to me this morning,
wanted to know who'd be here.

Checking the guest list, eh?

Who's the new boy, Miss Cuttle?

Christopher Wainwright.

Used to work for the BBC, poor soul.

As a cameraman in the
most frightful places.

Seems to be fitting in quite well.

Oh yes. They've become good friends.

Won't you join us for lemon balm.
And some ice carrot cake.

Uh, no, no, thank you. Unfortunately,
we have some work to do.

But thank you, thank you all the same.

Any chance of going any faster, Ken?

Sorry, Trix. Thirty it is.

Bees are very sensitive
creatures, prone to stress.

And they know the difference between
thirty and fifty miles an hour, do they?

Oh!

- Flat tire.
- Yes.

You better keep them
calm while I start fix it.

I read somewhere that in a crisis,
you should sing to bees.

Really? What sort of thing?

A lullaby of course.

How are bees in a storm, Ken?

What is it, Master?

Tim?

Tim, are you all right?

Well, he can't have gone far, Master.

I promised him he'd never
be frightened again.

We must find him!

Tim has gone!

Come on, May.

May!

Tim has gone!

You three, search the
back of the house.

ALL: Tim! Tim! Tim!

Why would he come
out here in a storm?

It's his way.
Out, in the open.

Hiding like a frightened animal.

ALL: Tim! Tim! Tim!

- No!
- Aargh!

There's somebody up there!

Tim.

Tim, is that you?

Where are you?

I'm fine...

Stop touching me!

Excitement the reserves.

There's no sign of him, Master.

Nothing. There no sign of him at all.

- He's not round the back, Master.
- We've looked everywhere, Master.

I feel a regression coming on.

A regression.
When did you May?

It doesn't say. Soon.

Tim? Tim!

Oh, Tim!

Thank God!

Christopher!
We found him!

Careful.

Arno?

Arno.

I'll take those.

Ooh!

Hail the hero!

Oh, I wouldn't put it quite like that.

You saved her life. That puts
you right on top of my list.

- Oh!
- Hello, Chris.

We're just off to fetch the new beehive.

Gosh.

Are you alone?

Yes.

Except you never know who
they were in a previous life.

Ah, but right now they're goats, so...

What about the others?

They do know about us, Chris.
Doesn't it bother you?

No. Not at all.

But this does.

I didn't mention it last night,
but I found it on the roof,

near where the cannonball
must have been.

What? Meaning that someone...

What?

Dislodged it on purpose?

Well, it wouldn't bother me usually,
but for this guy, Bill Carter, dying.

That was an accident,
the coroner said so.

Oh, therefore it must be true.

I'm sorry. I didn't
mean to be sharp.

Okay, so who wasn't out there
on the terrace last night?

Ken wasn't there when it fell.
Nor Heather.

Arno, Trixie and Tim
they weren't either.

Nor were you, Suhami.

Terry.

You the reporters?

Ken and Heather Beavers.

Ava Rokeby, Terry Lightfoot.

You've got a camera.

Um, sort of goes with
the job. Photographer.

I'm not sure about photos, Ken.

Why did you call our office,
Mr Beavers?

Have you never wondered what goes on
in The Lodge of the Golden Windhorse?

In passing.

Two attempted murders.

One of them successful.

Bill Carter.

Coroner said it was an accident.
We know different.

And last night someone
tried to k*ll someone else.

With a cannonball.

Names?

Do you think we ought to put
all this on a business footing?

You mean, how much will I pay you
to dish the dirt on your friends?

Yes. How much?

Wait for me!

There are easier ways of
k*lling people, Mr Wainwright.

Maybe so.

But I found this on
the roof, Inspector.

Could have been used to start
the ball rolling, as it were.

And before you ask, it's mine.

Part of the car's tool kit.

And how... did your
would-be m*rder*r know

that you would all be out there in the
storm, directly beneath his line of fire?

So, that's it, is it?

This thing nearly kills May
and you just dismiss it.

As would any halfway decent
barrister in two seconds flat,

unless he had something more to go on.

Miss Cuttle?

What?

Why are you looking at me?

I just got the feeling
something's bothering you.

Two days after Bill Carter died

I heard voices in the Master's room.

He sounded rather desperate.

Craigie?

Uh oh, not necessarily.
Could have been anyone.

They spoke in a hoarse kind of whisper.

Saying what?

Oh, God. Why couldn't
you have left well alone?

If they do a post mortem...

That's all?

I'm not sure who else was there.

Man or woman, they didn't speak.

So the person you did hear
could have been on the phone.

There isn't one there.

Then, a couple of nights later,
two in the morning,

I heard someone
rifling through Bill's room.

I went to look. They scuttled
out through the window,

down onto the terrace...

And across the lawn.

No. In through the front door.

That means that someone
was from the commune.

Not a burglar.

Why didn't you say something
before, Miss Cuttle?

It didn't mean anything
until the cannonball.

Perhaps whoever I disturbed in Bill's room

thinks I recognised them.

In other words, the cannonball really
was meant for May, Inspector.

Not now, Gaius Quintus.
Not now, not now.

What's that mean?

Gaius Quintus is chief taster for
the Roman General in Britain.

A.D.

May is due to regress soon.

Extract his wisdom
for all of us to share.

You've caught me at a
bad time, Gaius Quintus.

Tuesday. Let it be Tuesday.

What? What's that you say?

He warned of dark forces
at work, Inspector.

We must get her home, Inspector.

Don't forget this.

Barnaby.

Mr. Barnaby?

Ava Rokeby, County Press.
How's the enquiry going?

Which enquiry?

Attempted m*rder Lodge
of the Golden Windhorse.

I'm sorry, this is a terrible line.

Press.

Who's wound them up?

On the other hand, perhaps
we ought to take May seriously.

What?

"Oh God, why couldn't
you have left well alone?"

"If they do a post mortem..."

It's not much to go on.

You've convinced me. Hope we haven't
missed something, something crucial.

- Like what, sir?
- The dark forces at work, Troy.

Just a minute.

Well, I'm sorry about that.

How much longer?

By another ten minutes, Mr Gamelin.

Do you want more fruit juice?

No. I'm awash with it.

Get off! Give us your phone.

Hello.

I presume you've been invited to
our daughter's birthday celebration.

You remember that
we have a daughter!

I'm trying to be civil, Felicity.
Do you want a lift down there?

Guy, there is absolutely nothing
that I want from you.

Does that include my money?!

"There's been several allegations
made against you Mr Gamelin."

"Most serious being that you've replaced over
half your regular workforce with casual labour."

"So what? Those people need to eat as well."

Happy birthday!

Whatever's wrong?

I'm sorry.

Perhaps I'd feel better if
I hadn't lied to you, Chris.

I'm... I'm not who I say I am.

Which of us is?

Oh, that man there is!

He's an absolute bastard,
and proud of it.

He's cruel, vindictive,
immoral and coarse.

He's also my father.

Guy Gamelin?

Oh why didn't you tell
me in the first place?

I wanted to be sure that you
loved me, not my inheritance.

If I wanted money, I'd be
out there earning some.

Not hiding in a place like this.

Of course I love you.

Good.

In view of what I'm about to do.

That's good.

- Heather-honey.
- What, love?

No. It's heather-honey!

Oh, I'm sorry, I thought
you were being affectionate.

Be a good chap, nip over to May with this
and see if she needs any fruit for dessert.

Can you do that?

You bloody moron!

If you've done any damage...

What happened?

That thing ran out in front of me.

Oh. No prizes for guessing
where he's off to.

Tim!

- No, please, not today!
- Hello, Guy.

Bloody hell! Huh.

What are you doing here?

I'm very well, thank you.

Have you come to
buy us up for a song?

Make us an offer we can't refuse?

That's it. He'll be here for hours!

At least we know where he is.

Yes, May.

Well, you're not here to see me.

So why are you here Guy?

I've come to see my daughter.

It's her birthday.

You mean that sad little girl is yours?

Yes, it figures.

Is she expecting you?

Craigie's are.

There's only one Craigie
and he's a man.

- Excuse us.
- Excuse us.

What sort of place is this?

It's a refuge, Guy.

For people who have been damaged.

By people like you.

Now I see.

A one-night stand with
me damaged you, did it?

Four nights, actually.

It's funny, that. I remember
the quantity, not the quality!

Why did you invite him, Master?

Because it's your birthday
and he's your father.

Look! Have a look at his letter.

I don't care what he said.

It's a trick.

He's up to something,
I'm warning you.

Suhami.

Try to be more generous.

You've found a pathway and you
even found someone to share it with.

Your father may not
know it, but he is lost.

I... I must go and greet him.

Well, I don't have to!

Well met, fellow seeker.

Welcome to the Lodge of
the Golden Windhorse.

Eh?

Master, this is Guy Gamelin.

Ian Craigie.

Where's my daughter, Mr Craigie?

You'll see her at supper.

I said, where is she?
Meaning, I want to see her now!

And I said, at supper.

Let's have sherry in the library.

You join us on a marvellous day, Guy.

Not only Suhami's birthday, but
one of our number is due to regress.

Eh?

To link spirit with a
friend from another age.

Open your mind to it, Guy.

You may learn something.

You look puzzled, Guy.

No. I'm just wondering what it is.

Nut roast. From our own trees.

Vegetables from the garden.

Bread from our own flour.

Mushrooms from our own...

Ah! The birthday girl.

Would you mind, er...

So, hunger got the better of you, Tim?

Sit down, old chap.

He fell out of a tree!

Yes. He often does.

You must be, um...

Well, for a start, I'm
amazed that he's still alive.

No, she meant, who are you?

This, I'm ashamed
to say, is my wife.

And I'm proud to say
the feeling is mutual.

Why don't you just sit down?

Sylvie! Sylvie, how are you dear?

Over here, Mother!

And that, my friends, tells
you everything about us.

My mother, stoned out of her mind.

My father abusing her.

And me wondering
where to hide my face.

You haven't done too badly out of it.

In the only terms you understand,
Father, namely money. No, I haven't.

My inheritance.

All three million pounds of it.

For my th birthday.

Thank you, Daddy.

Happy birthday.

It now belongs to the Master,
who I know will put it to good use.

Do you think I'm gonna stand by and see
million quid wasted on a bunch of nutters!

Is that why you took her in?

I've dealt with trickier
men than you, Craigie.

- If you've persuaded her...
- Please!

Sit down, Guy.

Master, if I might suggest
that we all hurry up.

It's all right, Ken.

Your daughter may have
made this generous offer.

But have I said that
we shall accept it?

I'll take her through, Master.

If we can hurry, Master, you know how
ratty Gaius Quintas gets when we're late.

Yes, you er, you go on
ahead and prepare her.

If you would care to join us?

Chris, bring May's bag will you?

That's mine.
May's bag.

If you're ready, May,

then...

locate the centre of your being.

I've found it, Master.

I see it... as a golden ball.

Push that ball, May.

- Argh!
- Push it.

Push it out through
the balls of your feet.

You see!
It lifts.

Up into the air!

Look down on us, May.

Look down.

My name isn't May.

It's Gaius Quintus.

Welcome, Gaius Quintus.

Where are you, Gaius Quintus?

In a forest.

A clearing.

Roman Britain, AD.

We're moving north
to build a wall.

But here we are,
settled for the night.

A wild boar is roasting in the burning
embers as a sl*ve turns the spit.

I come out of the tent.

The General follows me.

Will today be the day?

Will someone in our number
have a grudge against Rome?

A personal hatred for the General?

I, Gaius Quintus,
will be the first to know.

"But where are my vegetables,
sl*ve?" says the General.

"There on the fire, sir.
Mushrooms in a skillet."

Help me!

Help me! My-my throat's on fire.

May?

May, are you all right?

Step aside.

Give her some air.

A pillow. A pillow!

The kiss of life.

Don't be so bloody daft.

She isn't drowning!

Come back to me, May.

Mush.

Mush.

Huskies?

A team of dogs pulled your sled?

Antartica!

Don't be so silly, Arno.

Mushrooms! Mushrooms!

Oh, goodness, what an adventure!

Put the lights on.

I've got so much to tell you.

Oh, oh!

Well?

Stabbing, sir.

Knife out, Tom?

Ya.

Piece of gold thread there.

Not from the victim's clothing.

A carving knife.

They used it at supper.

Craigie carved the nut roast himself.

Well, I'll be damned!
Look at this.

I said he was dodgy
right from the start.

Maybe, but wearing a wig
is no reason to k*ll a man.

With one or two notable exceptions.

Can't we do something about that?

Inspector.

I know you think the Master
was probably m*rder*d,

but you are going about
this in quite the wrong way.

And how would you describe
his present situation?

Well it's obvious, he's
been astrally harvested.

And how do you explain a
carving knife stuck in his chest?

A celestial lance!

With Made In Sheffield stamped on it.

Will you keep him quiet, please?

Oi! Shut up!

Listen.

If someone had stabbed the Master,
they've had blood all over them.

Look around.

There's not a speck on any of us.

Except for Tim.

A few spots there.

Yes, but then he was
sitting right next...

Ladies and gentlemen, we'll take
statements tomorrow morning.

In the meantime, we ask
you not to leave the lodge.

Thank you.

You can't keep us here against our will.

Oh, yes, I can.

Oh, I see.

I get a copper all to myself, do I?

That's right, sir.

I tell you son.

I stopped doing my own
dirty work a long time ago.

If I'd wanted to k*ll Craigie,

I'd have paid someone else to do it.

Is that what you usually do?

Policeman outside our door, Felicity.

All night.

Mind your manners.

Night, night.

Okay Guy.
Tell me.

Hm?

How did you do it?

How did you k*ll... Craigie?

Oh, darling.

That's all right. Do
you want a cup of tea?

No, no, no, whiskey please.
Large glass.

That bad eh?

Those people at the Lodge,

I misread them.

I thought they were harmless.

Plainly, one of them is not.

Maybe they struck a chord with
the ... in you dad.

Thank you.

If Carter was m*rder*d,

and I caught his k*ller,

Craigie might still be alive.

It's a lot of ifs and maybes.

What did Sergeant Troy think?

What does Sergeant Troy think?

Sergeant Troy thinks I'm a bastard.

I made him stay overnight at the Lodge

in case one of the visitors
does a moonlight flit.

Guy Gamelin, do you know him?

Gamelin Holdings, yea.

That's the boy.

His daughter hates him.

Wife hates him.

They both loathe him.

How do you live with that?

Ten minutes, Troy.

Solarium, downstairs.

Heavy day. K*llers to catch.

K*llers? Plural?

Good question.

What are they doing?

Apparently, they're clearing
the astral pathways

for Craigie's journey to the
Ark of the Gathered Souls.

You want to see me first, Inspector?

Yes. Thank you, Miss Channing.

You seem to have a more,
how shall I put it...

...more earthly approach to
life than some of your friends.

- They getting on your nerves, are they?
- A little.

Would you mind telling me where you all
were last night when Craigie was stabbed?

Er Troy, can you make
a note of the positions?

Yes. Basically, everyone was
gathered around May, just here.

Ken and Heather Beavers,

they were standing here.

And the Gamelins,
they're just here.

Right. And where was Suhami?

Suhami was sitting on my right...

...just here.

That leaves Arno Gibbs and Christopher.

Yes, um... one either side of May.

Er, which side?

Er... Arno to her left,
Chris to her right.

Someone always stand by in
case she has one of her swoons.

Last night, did she go
into one of her 'swoons'?

During her regression
she ate a mushroom.

Now it was obviously a toadstool, because
she started grappling at her throat.

Then she fell backwards, here.

We all gathered around.

Then when the lights
went back on again,

there was the Master.

But you didn't see anyone s*ab him?

No.

Right, so er...

...where was Tim during all this?

You know very well.

He was sitting at the
Master's feet, poor boy.

And how far were you from Craigie?

Er... Craigie was there, I was...

...about here.

About ten feet.
Ten feet.

Well thank you, Miss Channing.
That will be all for now.

I know it sounds really lame, Inspector,

but the Master really was
a thoroughly nice man.

I can't understand why
anyone would want to k*ll him.

Why do you wear so much make-up?

You've got a bloody cheek!

It's often my job to be rude.

You've got a scar here.

It's nothing to do with the
m*rder, I can assure you.

I'll be the judge of that.

I don't see how,
if I refuse to tell you.

Ah, excuse me.
Coffee, Inspector?

Oh, thank you.
Thank you very much.

- Acorna.
- I'm sorry?

The coffee.

Made from ground acorns.

That's very interesting.

You're ringing, Mr Beavers.

Yes. Yes, I am.

Allow me.

- Hello?
- Ken?

Well, I never.
It's for you.

Hello?

Listen Ken, we need to talk.

Dead bodies?

Oh, yes, yes.
Jolly good idea.

It's just, er, I'm a little bit
tied up at the moment.

"Police?"

Yes. Yes, that's the sort of thing.

"Call me back."

Mr Beavers?

Thank you.

Mr Beavers, would you
take a look at that?

That's a plan of where you were all sitting
last night when Craigie was stabbed.

Do you agree with it?

You know Inspector.

I'd give anything to be the
person you're looking for.

That's a curious ambition.

You're forgetting what a truly great
man the Master was, Inspector.

To have played such a vital part in
his onward journey to perfection.

You'd have been given a life sentence.

It had to be a complete stranger.

The master himself was
not pleased, I could tell.

What do you mean?
What stranger?

Why, Mr Gamelin, of course.

The master seemed to...

...reach out to him as he fell.

Like this.

Why you, why you,
he seemed to be asking.

Such pain, such bewilderment on his face.

I'm surprise Trixie didn't mention it to him.

Then again, they are old friends.

Hold it right there.
Why?

Oh, don't think badly
of Heather, Inspector.

It's not nosiness.

It's just her cosmic aerials
are so finely tuned.

Oh, all this claptrap.

I'm not interested in her cosmic aerials.

So can we please have no more chat

about astral paths and the
Ark of the Gathered Souls.

This man has been m*rder*d.

And whoever k*lled him,
will pay for it.

Now can you please tell
me in plain English, why

Guy Gamelin would want
to k*ll Ian Craigie?

Because his daughter planned to
give her inheritance to the Lodge.

Three million pounds worth of it.

Became her's yesterday,
her eighteenth birthday.

Three million?!

Ya, that will be for me.

Barnaby.

Yes, Dave?
Forensic.

Ya, just through this way, thank you.

Yes, Dave.

Oh right!

What about the thread?

- Hello, I'll take those, thank you.
- Thank you.

The thread on the knife was from curtains,

tapestry, heavy material like that.

What's the colour of the
drapes in the solarium?

Cream, sir.

What about the carving knife?

Not a print on it.

Look Troy, I want chapter
and verse on Craigie.

Calm down, calm down!

Can't you keep him under control?

He's not a dog, Mr Gamelin.

- No. Dogs, you can train.
- Troy. Troy.

What started all this?

Guy said the Master tried to con
Suhami out of her inheritance.

Well, isn't it obvious?

And him too. You think he's
not after her for her money!

I didn't know she had
any till yesterday.

Take him away from here.

Mr Gamelin, can I have a word, please?

You're alright, Tim?
Now, I'm gonna let go.

Where is he going?

The tree. Maybe the
best place for him.

You're the only one here I know
anything about, Mr Gamelin.

You know what I want the
press to know, that's all.

Then, tell me some more.

Like why did Mr Craigie reach
out to you when he fell?

How should I know?

Maybe because you'd just stabbed him?

I met Ian Craigie
less than hours ago.

In which time you learn that your daughter
wants to give him ã , , .

Money you worked for.

You may not like the
sound of this, Barnaby,

but million is peanuts.

So if money really isn't the problem with
Craigie and Chris Wainwright, what is?

I don't like my daughter being used.

Oh, women being used, yeah.

Tell me about you and Miss Channing.

She worked in one of my companies.

We had a zoological fling,
lasted three days.

So you can't tell me anything about the

scar and the bruising on the cheek.

No.

Look at him.

Another man in her life,
all set to let her down.

No one is ever good enough
for our daughters, eh?

Maybe I should stay here for a while.

Get to know him.

That could be the way back to her.

Suhami, good news!

I've persuaded your
mother to stay on.

That is not good news, May,
that is bad news.

It's only for two months, darling.

It's the self healing course.

With personal guide.

May, my mother is a drug addict.

Being waited on hand and foot
by you is not going to cure her!

Maybe we should...

What?

I was about to say, maybe
we should ask the Master.

Oh, dear.
Oh!

Bad moment?

No, no, no.

Memories, Inspector.
Grief and joy.

Mixing like pork and mustard.

No-no-not that I've eaten pork for years.

No.

Mr Wainwright.

I hear you covered
the w*r in Rwanda.

Does that explain in some
way why you're here?

Yes.

In your job, you see human
life at its worst, am I right?

On a bad day, yeah.

Take that and multiply it by
any number you care to.

And that was Rwanda every day.

I either blew my brains out or
came here to hide for a while.

And you knew nothing of Mr
Craigie before you came here?

I spoke to him on
the phone, that's all.

And Mr Carter?

I arrived the day he died.

I nearly went away again.

I'm glad I didn't.

Thank you.

- One, two, three...
- Miss Cuttle.

- What?
- May I speak with you?

We're looking for Mr Craigie's will.

Solicitor doesn't seem to have it.
Have you got any ideas?

The man you need is Arno, Inspector,
wearing his admin hat.

Let it all out!
Let it all out.

Expel it.

Let it out.

I'm afraid I don't have it,
Mr Barnaby.

Miss Cuttle said you would.

Well, she's half right.
I did have it.

I see.

Now it gets a bit complicated, doesn't it?

I'd be grateful if
you'd stop doing that.

Alright.

I drew it up for him
several years ago.

In another life
I used to be a solicitor's clerk.

Who was it made out to?

Bill Carter. Lock, stock and barrel.

And why don't you have it any more?

Well, the Master took it off me,
a few days ago.

Said he wanted to change it.

He didn't come back
with any new instructions?

That's right.

Oh, look, this one's dying.

Well...

Question is...

did he make a new will or not?

I'm afraid I can't help you, Mr Barnaby.

Why is the will so important?

Well, I thought that was obvious,
especially to a solicitor's clerk.

Whoever's name in the will
inherits the entire estate.

Maybe he or she decided
to hurry things on a bit.

Good morning, Troy.

Any joy? And, please, say yes.

Ian Craigie could be Albert John Cranleigh.

Reading Jail, .

That's when Bill Carter was there.

What was Cranleigh in for?

Some timeshare racket.

They found a six figure sum
hidden underneath his floorboards.

Released with a forwarding address.

Mrs Cook, a Bed and Breakfast in Upton.

I'm seeing her tomorrow to show
her a photograph of Craigie.

Better find one at the Lodge.

There is something else, sir.

Could someone get rid of this?

Uh, yeah.

It's from Hull CID.

Ha. I think you're gonna like this.

- Mr Beavers.
- Yes?

Like another word with you, please.

What about?

About brothels, Mrs Beavers.

Or rather the one that you and
your husband ran in Hull.

The place where the trawlers
used to come from.

Oh, dear.

It was a very good brothel.

Oh, I'm sure.

It was a partnership.

Like John Lewis says, in that the staff
used to share the profits with us.

No one was ever pressurized nor got hurt.

Two or three high ranking police officers

could have testified to
it in the trial, but didn't.

So, how did you meet Ian Craigie?

He was on a tour of the north.

He spoke at a Seamen's Mission
where we used to eat.

We've just been fined ã , .

I can't tell you how bleak we felt.

The Master gave us a new way of life.

Something to believe in.

Inspector?

Does this have to become
common knowledge?

Do you mean, will I tell anyone?

I'm a policeman, Mrs Beavers,
not a gossip.

After all that self-righteousness,
what are they?

Brothel-keepers!

But are you any nearer
to catching the m*rder*r?

I'll put it this way, Joyce.

I don't know who did k*ll Craigie,

but I know one or two people who didn't.

You cooked this, Cully?

How can you tell?

Oh it's a... it's a different style, that's all.

And I've got a problem for you two.

On the night of Craigie's m*rder,

they're all gathered round
listening to May Cuttle.

She collapses.

They all go to her...
and bunch up.

All... except Craigie...

and Tim.

They're over there.

Thirty seconds later the lights go up and
there's Craigie with a knife in his chest.

No fingerprints on the handle

and any prints on the blade
wiped as it went into him.

And the garlic bread?

Twelve feet away.

What happened?

The pepper stabbed the Parmesan.

Why?

Tim was devoted to Craigie.

Can hardly bear to let
him out of his sight,

except when he was hiding
in that wretched tree.

"...Christopher Wainwright."

"The bridgegroom, a BBC cameraman,
had been working in Rwanda

where his bride was a doctor."

Where is he?
Which one is the bridegroom?

There dear. Next to the bride.

BBC cameraman? Rwanda?
Is that what he said?

Because, if that is
Christopher Wainwright...

...who's the fellow at the lodge?

"Lovely day for the wedding."

"And now for tomorrow's
weather in the southeast..."

- Who's that?
- I don't know.

Let's find out.

Miss Rokeby!

How nice to see you.

And Mr Lightfoot too.
What a surprise!

Morning, Mr Barnaby.

How's life in the gutter there?

Still making things up as you go along, eh?

You've been so damn secretive
about this case, Barnaby,

we thought we've come
to see for ourselves.

Have you been inside the house?

That would be breaking
and entering, Sergeant.

So it would.

Tell you what.

You give me the film you shot
and I won't nick you for it.

So when do we get the full story,
then, Chief Inspector?

At the press conference,
if and when I make an arrest.

Come off it, Barnaby. How long
have we known each other?

Okay. Something a little extra
for you, Ava, for old times' sake.

But not yet.

I'll hold you to that.

In the meantime,
vanish.

Mr Wainwright.

Who are you?

I beg your pardon?

Can I put the question more simply?

What's your name?

Cause it's sure as hell isn't
Christopher Wainwright!

Andrew Carter.

I'm Bill Carter's nephew.

I'm sorry, Suhami.

I did the same to you.

I guess we're quits now.

But you did it for a very
good reason, Miss Gamelin.

Distance yourself from
a father you hate.

What was your reason, Mr Carter?

Bill was the nearest I had to a father.

He wrote to me in Madrid
just after Christmas.

He wanted to leave here.

Sell his share in this place.

But Craigie wouldn't buy him out.

So, I said I'd come and
stay for a few weeks.

See if we could get
things worked out.

Don't like the sound
of that "worked out".

Has overtones, doesn't it?

You said Bill Carter wrote to you in Madrid.

What were you doing there?

Usual stuff.

Waiting tables, lifeguard,
crewing in the Med.

Even worked at the
Circus National for a year.

So you just picked out a name,
Christopher Wainwright.

Why him?

I met him at Easter.

He told me he was off to Rwanda
for a year's contract.

He didn't mention coming home
to marry Lizzie Roscoe, though.

So you just bowled up here
one afternoon last month,

only to find that Bill Carter
had died that morning.

You must have been devastated.

And from the very first,
I knew it was no accident.

So I stayed on to find who k*lled him.

Reached any conclusions?

Well you know I have!

It's Tim Riley.

At first, I thought it was Craigie himself,

but on the night of the storm,

he was on the terrace
when the cannonball fell.

And that was meant for me, Inspector!

Not May.

Why?

Because Tim had guessed who
I was and why I was here.

I think he k*lled Craigie as well.

Look, Mr Carter, I'm sorry, I really
am sorry about your uncle's death.

But I'm asking you now
to stop your investigations.

Leave it to us.

Very well.

What exactly are you
looking for, Mr Barnaby.

Mr Craigie's will.

Mr Gibbs didn't have it.

This is it.

Albert Cranleigh.

What?

Six figures under the floor boards.

Maybe old habits die hard.

Oh, fabulous!

As I told Mr Gibbs the other day,

whoever gets the money may
have had a good reason to k*ll him.

He leaves The Lodge jointly to you,
Miss Cuttle...

and guess who else?

And Arno! Oh, I say!

And this is the first you heard of it?

There was no hint or discussion?

Never. But then, he didn't
know he was going to die.

There is a condition.

You have to continue the good work.

What else would we do?

Craigie and Bill Carter,
taken, what...?

Late ' s, that.

Looks like a holiday camp.

Will do to show my bed
and breakfast lady.

I'll see you later, sir.

And I want a word with Tim.

Tim?

Tim, I'm sorry to barge
in on you, like this.

I mean, I'm a great
one for privacy myself.

Never seem to get any.

Look Tim, I know you've been afraid.

Most of your life, by the feel of it.

And I imagine people have done...

...terrible things to you.

Maybe one day you can
tell me about them.

Give us a chance to put things right.

That's... that's my job.

Putting things right.

And at this moment, I need
your help to help me do that.

I think I know what
happened to Bill Carter.

Is that how it was?

Now... what I don't know...

...is who k*lled the Master.

Now you were sitting
right beside him, Tim.

You must have seen him do it.

Either that...

or you stabbed him yourself.

Did you see?

M...

Ma...gic.

Magic?

He was k*lled by magic?

I don't understand.

Magic.

You just worked a miracle, Mr Barnaby.

The boy hasn't said one
word since he came here.

Quite extraordinary.

How long have you had this gift?

Since about ten o'clock this morning.

What do you know about Tim?

Nothing! He just turned up at
the door step about a year ago.

God knows where he came from.

Well you should have reported it.

Why? So that you could
have taken him away?

Will you do that now?

That rather depends on whether
he has k*lled anyone.

- Mrs Cook?
- Yes.

Sergeant Troy, Causton CID.

May I have a word?

Yes, of course. Come in.

Is there nothing you don't excel at, May?

Since you asked, yes there is something.

I'm not very good at hiding my feelings.

Oh, May.

- The truth is so important, don't you think?
- How true.

Therefore, I must ask this...

...very dangerous and personal
question of you, Arno.

Did you k*ll the master?

Oh I love that gift of yours for
not beating around the bush.

Only, the will and all that.

I swear, no idea there was a new
will or that we were named in it.

Cause you know what it means, don't you?

Tell me.

With our new responsibilities
and everything...

I'm afraid we shall have to grow up.

Rather a frightening thought.

Responsibilities for others.

Makes you realize what a
great man the Master was.

Have you reached him yet?

No.

His spirit is detained
in the outer chamber.

There it will remain I fear,
until his k*ller is found.

May dear, you've been so frank with me.

May I return the compliment.

Certainly.

- You didn't to know have anything...
- Did I k*ll him?

What a terrible thing to suggest!

Ah!

Oh, yes, that's definitely Cranleigh.

Such a quiet voice and lovely manners.

His friend was rather different.

You knew him too?

Yes. I don't recall his name though.

- Carter.
- Yes, that's right!

He visited once or twice.

They were going into business, I think.

Did you know
Cranleigh had been in prison?

It's the first thing he told me.

It's why I remember him so
well after all these years.

His honesty.

Right.

I really must go.
Duty calls.

Even though that cake
is begging me to stay.

I have been told that my
cake is rather persuasive.

You can't go yet.

You must taste my prune nibbles.

Go on.

You took your time!

Where have you been?

You can't just walk in and
walk out again, can you?

Craigie was Albert Cranleigh.

And she recognised Bill Carter too.

So, the man we know as
Craigie was an ex-villain.

He meets another villain

and together they set up The
Lodge of the Golden Windhorse.

Presumably as a con.

Yeah, can we prove it?

I don't know.

Those books in Carter's room...

all on pop philosophy
and psycho-therapy.

Craigie said Bill was a
great reader all his life.

But he was lying.

There wasn't a single book
published before .

On both the shelves?

Have a look at this.

That outlines the courses on
offer at The Lodge this year.

Page four, assertion training.

Remember me telling you that ten
years ago a session cost twenty quid?

Yea, you have mentioned
it a couple of times.

How much same session now?

Blimey. A fiver!

Tell you anything?

Yea, you were robbed.

I think The Lodge began life as a con,

but then Craigie began to believe
in what he was doing.

So he gave up shafting the punters.

And all those people who
gathered round him,

May, Arno, Heather, Ken,
all the others,

they became... his family.

But did Carter go along with it?

No, he did not.

And that is at the heart of this.

I think they fell out.

Punch-up top of the stairs?

Could be. Listen, do you want a drink?

No. I'm stuffed.

- Barnaby.
- Mr Barnaby?

Cuttle here.

Another dreadful thing has happened.

Yes, Miss Cuttle?

Please Inspector, just get
here as quickly as you can!

Oh, goodness me.

Oh, come, hurry. Hurry!

I don't know why everyone
so upset, Mr Barnaby.

Mother, please!

But darling, it's the best thing
that's happen to us for years.

And another thing, Inspector.

Trixie's gone.

Left without so much as a word!

But I think I know where
you can find her.

Troy.

I've been burning the
midnight oil on this one, Tom.

Interesting wrinkle to our friend, Craigie.

He was dying of cancer.

Oh! Hence the baldness; chemotherapy.

Begs the question,
who'd want to k*ll a dying man?

Doesn't it just!

But this one is simple, isn't it?

Please George, tell me Guy
Gamelin committed su1c1de.

I'm afraid he didn't.

And so the empty bottle in his hand...

Should have contain heart pills.

His arteries like the M .

No trace in his stomach, though.

So, it was a heart attack.

The man reaches for his pills,

there's none there and... bang!

Yes, except...

Except, why didn't he have a full bottle?

The man's a millionaire.

He has people, had people
to fetch and carry for him,

organise his life to the last detail.

Someone took them off him at the last
moment maybe, and watched him die?

Trixie Channing?

Everytime, the postman cycles up
there, she'll be waiting for him.

She always pick out the blue envelope,

not that the letters were fullsome,

if this one's anything to go by.

"The time has come."
Signed Raymond.

The time has come for what?

Don't know.

The address is nearby, why
don't you go and ask him?

Thank you, George.
I will do that.

They're both in there, sir, only upstairs.

Look, I think they're at it.

May Cuttle has got one,
Suhami's got one,

Trixie's got one.

What colour would you call that?

Gold. Gold thread.

That's how the knife went from
the dining room to the solarium.

In one of those.

Well done, Troy.

What the hell are you doing?!

I wonder if you'd mind coming
downstairs for a little chat?

Take your time.

Done to your liking, sir?

Perfect.

I said before you'd
got a bloody cheek!

How did you find me?

Good God!
Is there no privacy?

No, not in a m*rder case.

Guy Gamelin died yesterday
and you disappeared.

Are the two related?

Did I k*ll him, you mean?

No.

But don't worry.
I'll get over it.

Then, would you explaining the cryptic note,

"The time has come"?

May Cuttle and Heather Beavers.

They read everyone's mail.

I told Raymond to be brief.

About what, though?

Sorry, but I really think
that's our business, Inspector.

And you can stop that!

Yes, stop that, Troy.

Look, Mr um...

Jennings. Raymond Jennings.

Mr Jennings.

The first time I met Miss Channing

she had a scar here and a bruise there.

And you think Raymond...?

And that I was coming back for more?

Sorry, Miss Channing, not particularly
fond of men who beat up women.

Oh really?

And how do you feel about
women who beat up men?

I'm sorry?

Raymond's wife, Mr Barnaby.

She's a husband-beater.

And when Raymond and I got friendly,

she turned on me as well.

How big is she?

Arnold Schwarzenegger would tremble.

But yesterday my divorce came through.

I'm free of her.

We're free of her.

And look out France,
here we come.

Not in the next few days, I trust?

Why not?

That's how long it will take
me to put my case together.

Craigie's m*rder.

You still think I k*lled him?

And perhaps Guy Gamelin
too, for good measure.

And so, don't go anywhere, please.

Is there anything you need to tell me, Trix?

There you go, sir.

So, what have we got?

Bill Carter, m*rder*d possibly,

Craigie, m*rder*d definitely,

and Guy Gamelin, just left to die.

Not passionate, just... pitiless.

Which is even worse.
Why, though?

Someone thought he'd k*lled Craigie.

His wife and daughter, they wanted revenge.

And given the high body count, you know
what keeps knocking at the old skull?

That bloody cannonball.

Did someone try and
k*ll May, you mean?

Or Christopher.

Just suppose that Tim
knew who he really was,

what he was doing there,
looking for Bill's k*ller.

Would he try and stop him?

To protect who though?

Himself or Craigie?

Whichever one of them push
old Bill down the stairs,

if anyone pushed him.

Oh the hell with it!

I'm going to have another. Do you?

Yup.

Ah same again, please.
Guinness and a Lager.

That driving course,
did you ever finish it?

Miss Gamelin, before your father
died, did you go up to his room?

Yes, I was looking for my mother.

I saw him there, turned and walked away.

He called me back,
wanted to talk things over.

Build a bridge, he said.

And was your mother in the room?

I didn't see.
I didn't go in.

I wish I had.

I was with May, Inspector.

Doing yoga at the foot of the stairs.

Strange place.

It's an energy hot-spot, Inspector.

Bill Carter shed all his when he passed over.

Shame to waste it.

Inspector, you know Chris did warn you
that Tim may do something drastic.

But you wouldn't listen.

Come on, Tim!

What do you reckon, Troy?

Those two got what it
takes to k*ll Craigie?

They stand to cop a fortune.

And this place.

Coffee, Inspector.

Oh, thank you.

Sets you up for the day, does acorna.

And how!

Listen, erm, will you take
a seat for a moment?

The night of the storm,

when the cannonball fell.

Would you...

talk me through it, please?

Ooh, erm...

We got home...

just as the Master
was looking for Tim.

Where had you been?

To collect two new beehives.

Trixie came with us.

TROY: Why were you so late back?

Puncture. It was a tricky one.

I couldn't change the wheel.

Tim has gone!

You three, search the back of the house.

ALL: Tim! Tim! Tim!

No...!

So, when the cannonball fell,
where were you?

Back of the house, looking for Tim.

Alright.

There was one more tiny thing.

Your little problem up north
when you were fined.

How did you raise the money?

Sold up. Everything.

House, car,
the flat in Spain.

Spain? Whereabouts?

Costa del Sol.

Oo. Where else.

Well, thank you for your time.

Don't drink it.

I'm sure that plant was
alive last time we saw it.

How's your Spanish?

It isn't. Why?

Tim.

My sergeant here believes
that you m*rder*d Bill Carter.

It's all right, I don't.

I know what happened.

Why don't you tell him?

Inspector, you may have
got one word out of Tim,

but that's all.

Oh, yes, I'm sorry.

OK, then, Mr Gibbs.

Why don't you tell us how it went?

You mean about Bill?

I wasn't there, you know.

I heard it afterwards from the Master.

He slipped and fell.

He was pushed.

Will you please listen to me?

Carter and Craigie
were having an argument.

One of many, I imagine.

They left Craigie's room
and made for the stairs.

"Why won't you buy me out?"

Carter was saying,
or words to that effect.

Craigie tried to calm him down,
but Bill was furious.

Reached out for Craigie

and that is when he was pushed.

Mr Gibbs.

Alright.

Bill made a grab at the Master,
I shoved him away.

I didn't meant to, I swear.

He fell against the banister,
lost his footing and slipped.

It's funny.

In my mind's eye,

I don't see you there at all.

I see Tim.

Carter wasn't drunk, wasn't drunk at all.

In fact, he was stone-cold sober.

You tried to force whisky down his throat

to make it look as if he'd fallen
because he was drunk.

Hence that conversation
you overheard, Miss Cuttle.

"Oh God, why couldn't
you leave well alone?"

"If they do a post mortem..."
Can I finish that sentence for you?

"..they won't find any
whisky in his stomach."

We did it to spare Tim

the agony you lot would
have put him through.

So you lied.

Yes.

Tim, just one more thing
I need to know from you.

That night of the storm
when the cannonball fell,

were you up on the roof?

Don't be absurd Inspector,
Tim is terrified of storms.

Then come on. Come with me.
Show me where you were hiding.

Come on.
Come on.

And you were in here all the time?

Yes.

Is that the truth?

He doesn't lie, Troy.

He doesn't know how to.

Thank God some others do, otherwise
we'd be out of a job, wouldn't we?

I'll be back, Mr Gibbs.

Meantime, keep an eye on Tim.

Don't let him out of your sight, alright?

You sure you don't speak Spanish, Troy?

Positive.

Name like 'Troy' must mean
something in Spanish.

'Accident', maybe as in,

"Didn't I always tell you Bill
Carter's death was one?"

Gracias. Adios.

Yes, thank you very much.
I'm most grateful. Thank you.

Used to be a foreigner didn't understand
you shout at them until they do.

Now they speak better English than you.

- Helpful, sir?
- Very.

'Magic' was the word Tim Reilly used.

Magic. As in suddenly, out of
nowhere, there it was. m*rder.

Yeah, but did he see anything?

He didn't see the m*rder*r, no,
but he saw who Craigie pointed at.

And for a while, I thought
that was Guy Gamelin.

Come on, Troy!

Carter!

Tim, let go!
Get off me!

Get off!

Right, inside the house.

Find the access to the roof.
Quick, come on!

What's happening, Inspector?

I thought I told you to
keep an eye on him!

I let him go for thirty
seconds to get some herbs.

Shhhhhh!

What's going on?

Tim!

Tim.

Get back!

Come on!

Get back!

Get them out of here.

Get back!

Tim!

Get an ambulance.

Is he all right?

He just fell, I gotta
see if he's alright.

Tim! Tim!

Oh, he's alive!

Are you all right?

Yes, yes. Is he alright?

I couldn't believe it.
He just, he just flew at me.

Alright, sit down.

Yes, you look dreadful.
Take some deep breaths!

Is he all right, Inspector?

That's three times you've
asked that question.

His state of health must bother you.

Of course it does.

Well then, I'm very happy to
tell you that, yes, he'll be fine.

Which isn't what you
wanted to hear, is it?

Inspector,
Tim just tried to k*ll me!

No, no, no, no.

You just tried to k*ll him.

Just like you k*lled Ian Craigie.

You think I k*lled the Master?

I know you did...

and so does Tim.

He saw Craigie point as he fell,
not at Guy Gamelin, but at you.

And Tim's begun to talk again, hasn't he?

And you're afraid that any day
now he'll tell us all about it.

Inspector, why would Chris m*rder the Master?

Revenge and money, Miss Gamelin.

Revenge for his uncle's death, which
he held Craigie responsible for,

And your money, which he
didn't want you to give away.

Don't listen to him.

I would if I were you, Miss Gamelin.

He's tried to pin everything
on a defenceless boy.

Even a cannonball which fell by
a simple act of God in a storm.

What might he do to you...

given time?

Bill Carter knew who you were.

And I don't doubt he told
his nephew in his letters.

You used her as a business
opportunity, didn't you?

Because while Ian Craigie had turned
into a thoroughly decent man,

his old partner was still on the make.

That's why they fell out, I am sure.

That... isn't true, Suhami.

It was, to begin with,

but then... after I met you...

But the tyre lever, Mr Barnaby.

Chris found it on the roof
the night of the storm.

It wasn't on the roof in the storm.

Mr Beavers had a puncture that evening

and he used it to
remove a hubcap.

What about the Master's
death, Mr Barnaby?

Christopher wasn't anywhere
near him when he died!

That's right, he was with me.

Looking after May, how can
he have stabbed him?

He didn't s*ab him.

Don't be so silly, Arno...

And it's true he didn't move from May's
side during the whole of her regression.

But he did k*ll Ian Craigie.

I had a little chat earlier this afternoon

with the director of the
Circus Nacional in Madrid.

He misses you, by the way, where you
would do everything you were asked to.

Lion taming, trapeze work...

knife throwing.

He said you were
"lo hace estupendamente".

You were bloody good at it!

Did he k*ll my husband too, Mr Barnaby?

I think your daughter did that, Mrs Gamelin.

I think she went up to the guest
room for a talk with her father.

And that talk turned into a quarrel

during which he had a heart attack.

He fell, perhaps calling out for his pills.

- You took down the bottle
- No.

That's not how it went.

Oh! A sign of nobility at last.

I was beginning to think
you didn't have any.

"Give them to me".

"Give them to me," he said,
like I was a servant!

And... and I thought of her,

and how miserable he made
her over all those years.

And, that a girl like that
should end up in a place like this.

I poured them into my hand

and put them in my pocket.

And you watched him die.

Magic!

- Magic.
- Magic.

I've done a fair bit of lying
to you, Inspector.

Will I be charged with anything?

Only by me.

Look after him.

Has it come?

Postmarked Perth.

Here's to you, Cully. Cheers!

Three months in Perth.

When do you start rehearsing?

On the first. Honestly, they do
sound a fabulous bunch of people.

Two weeks ago they were
a tinpot little company.

Well, they've improved with age.

Will you come and see it?

Try keeping us away.

You don't do eye of newt or toe of frog,

wool of bat or tongue of dog, then?

- Not a la carte, sir.
- Don't encourage him!

I'll have a steak.
Medium rare, please.

Mr Barnaby?

Oh, Miss Rokeby.

I, oh, do sit down.

We were just talking about you.

A recipe brought you to mind.

You said you'd give me
something special after the arrest.

Yes, I did. I was lying.

That is outrageous!

Well, what did you expect?
He's a policeman.

I kept to my side of the bargain.

Stayed clear till it was all over.

Yes, you did.

Tell me this then.

Your contact up at the Manor House,
what was his name?

Lips are sealed. Ethics.

It was Ken Beavers, wasn't it?

You even bought him a mobile telephone,
with which you could reach him.

How much did you pay him?

Again, ethics.

Bye bye, Miss Rokeby.

Fifteen hundred quid.

Come on, Barnaby, something
to follow up with tomorrow.

Anything!

You promised me.

Hull Crown Court.
September .

Ken and Heather Beavers.

Brothel keeping.

Your readers loved it.

I know I did.