Agatha Raisin (2014–…): Season 3, Episode 1 - Agatha Raisin & The Haunted House - full transcript

Say that again.
Say that again!

There.

I feel like Brigitte Bardot

driving through
the French Riviera.

I see you as more as Marilyn
speeding down Route 66.

Oh, Marilyn.

Old-school glamour
with a surprisingly racy engine.

Marilyn!

That is the perfect name
for her.

Though I still don't quite know
what I've done to deserve it.

You agreed to live in sin with
me for the rest of our lives,



and that makes me very happy.

Mm.
Me too.

I actually have a little
surprise for you too, James.

Well?

What do you see?

A... chapel.

Correct.

Agatha... I thought we agreed
marriage wasn't for us.

Oh, yes.
Uh, we did.

You passed?

I did... with flying colors,

and I'm now officially
Agatha Raisin, P.I.

I am so proud of you.

This isn't just mine, James.



This is ours.

I want you to know that.

Well, in that case... come here.

Oh!

We're gonna do everything
properly this time.

What do you reckon, Aggie?

Oh, down a bit to the left.

Perfect.
Ooh!

The electrician signed off
on the multisensory light room.

I've laid the meditation lawn.

I'm getting more giant beanbags
for the chill-out zone,

and I've ordered the slide.

Slide?

Yes, for the balcony.

Distraction activities
inspire creativity.

We go live at 10:00.
I've got the champagne.

- Where are the others?
- They'll be here.

Roy was between projects,

and I persuaded him to come
and help me with the interior.

Yes. I can see his signature
flair for the... unorthodox.

Well, I've always worked
in spaces

designed to excite
and challenge preconceptions.

But this isn't London, Agatha.

You think it's over the top?

No.

I think it's doing
just what you want it to do...

challenging my preconceptions.

I think it's perfect.

Can you grab the glasses, James?

Hi!

Hello!

This looks amazing!

It's very...

...you, Agatha.

Uh, let me add this to the mix.

Sure you're all right
with all this...

you know, me being official
competition and everything?

Well, I prefer collaborator,
if you're up for it,

with your famous intuition
and my resources.

You scratch my back
and all that.

Exactly.

As long as we keep Wilkes
firmly out of the picture.

I think that sounds like a plan.

Champagne, everyone.
It's launch time.

It's gonna be crazy busy, Aggie,
just the way you like it.

Countdown's begun.

Five...

...four, three,

two, one!

We have liftoff.

I just don't understand it,
Aggie.

I've done tons of marketing...
online, local press.

Not a dickeybird.

Well, maybe all the criminals
are on holiday.

I don't know.

I mean, I for one...
I'm in Mexico.

I can feel the sun shining down
on me,

waves rushing at my feet...
Aah!

I know what we should do.

Set up a crime
and just solve it ourselves.

I'm not killing someone to get
your business on its feet.

Not murder.
I'm not talking about murder.

Just something that looks
really bad,

and then it's...
"Agatha Raisin saves the day."

Yeah, and Roy gets arrested
and does five years.

No, thanks.

I might have the solution
to our problem.

Ivy Hall has long been
of interest

to the ghost-hunting fraternity.

Any idea why?

So Geoffrey Lamont,
murdered there in 1651.

His ghost has stalked
the corridors ever since.

So why all the fuss now?

Unexplained paranormal activity
on a much grander scale.

Owner Olivia Witherspoon says
she's terrified for her life,

and the police are refusing
to get involved.

Which she's none too happy
about, by the look of her.

Which is where we come in.

We convince her that we can
solve the mystery, which we do.

Roy does a massive PR job
on it...

national press, TV interviews...
and the agency's up and running.

You've had a good idea, James.
Must be a first.

Aggie?

I say let's go bust us
some ghosts.

I've got a bad feeling
about this, James.

There aren't any ghosts, Agatha.

There'll be a perfectly rational
explanation.

Mrs. Witherspoon?

Hello?

Oh!

Try again.
I definitely saw someone.

Mrs. Witherspoon?

We just want a few minutes
of your time.

No press, no psychics,

and no more
bloody ghost hunters!

We do understand,
Mrs. Witherspoon.

We know you're going through
a terrible experience.

And we think we may able
to help you.

You're that ghastly
amateur sleuth

with the disgustingly low-neck
clients and even lower morals.

Well, I, uh,
I don't see anyone else

queuing up
to offer their services,

but, uh, if you're determined
to suffer alone, so be it.

Right.

Fox looks strangely like you.

Has the same teeth.

What's wrong with my teeth?

Get a damn move on, will you?

I have no confidence that
a woman of your low intelligence

will be able to bring
this nightmare to an end.

But desperate times
call for desperate measures.

- Well, I think...
- When did all this start,

Mrs. Witherspoon?

1651, when Sir Geoffrey Lamont
was murdered

in this very room
with that very musket.

His ghost has been rumored
to haunt Ivy Hall ever since.

And why was he murdered?

Well, after the Royalist defeat
at Titley's Knob,

Lamont went on the run
with his manservant.

But he knew
that Cromwell's lynch mob

wouldn't be far behind.

So he took refuge here, did he?

Well, Sir William Braseph was
a loyal supporter of the king.

He was happy to give them
sanctuary.

But the Roundheads
caught up with him.

Yes, but not before...
or so legend has it...

Lamont entrusted his men
with all of his possessions,

including a cache
of priceless treasure.

He was caught hours later
empty-handed.

It was assumed he'd managed
to hide it

somewhere on this estate.

And it's never been found?

Nor is there any proof
it ever existed.

But it's made Ivy Hall
a destination

for every plundering,
treasure-hunting lunatic

for the past four centuries.

Can't you tell us a little more
about this haunting?

I mean... what exactly happens?

As the grandfather clock
strikes 9:00, it begins...

whispers, footsteps,
terrible, otherworldly cries...

...and then a deadly mist
engulfs the house,

reaching under my door
with its evil tendrils,

trying to smother me.

And you think
this is Lamont's ghost

tormenting you
from beyond the grave?

Of course I bloody don't.

Someone's trying to scare me
to death, quite literally.

Who would do that?
And why?

Oh, if I knew the answer
to that,

I wouldn't be wasting
my valuable time

with door-stepping chancers
like you, now, would I?

I propose that we stage
an all-night vigil,

see if we can catch whoever
is doing this in the act.

No fee if we fail...

£3,000 plus expenses
if we succeed.

Well, that's tantamount
to extortion.

But I'd do anything
to end this nightmare.

However, I'm not feeding you.

And I'll know
if you've helped yourselves

to the drinks cabinet.

Professionals, Mrs. Witherspoon.

Wouldn't dream of drinking
on the job, would we?

Olivia is in bed.
Doors all bolted.

- Agatha.
- What?

Oh, pbht!

Miserable old bat
will never know.

Might be the only thing
we get out of this evening.

We've got a lot of ground to
cover, so I suggest we split up.

You take the ground floor.

What?

James, I'm not going anywhere
on my own.

Have you never seen
"Scooby-Doo"?

Oh.

Ugh.

James?

James, what are those noises?

Wouldn't want to get in a fight
with these guys.

Those pikes can do
a lot of damage.

Agatha asked us
to talk to the locals,

but I doubt these guys
are from Hebberdon.

What are they doing here?

There's a big battle reenactment
up at Charles' place.

They started setting up camp
this morning.

Well, we'll have to make do
with the landlord, then.

How do you do?
I'll be right with you.

Uh... Uh, hide me.

Oh, who's that?

Robin Barley,
commander of the Crossed Swords.

We're supposed to be recruiting
peasants and bawds

from the ladies' side,
and they're not keen.

And she's really forceful.

- Barry.
- Hey.

Just checking to see
the mead order has arrived.

Got to keep the troops
well watered.

Ten barrels, Commander.

I'll drop off at camp tomorrow,
all right?

Mrs. Bloxby.
Almost didn't see you there.

Have you got your numbers up?

I'll be over tomorrow
to check the final tally.

Ironside.

Sorry about that.
What can I get you?

Two white wines, please.

This is a very intriguing story.
Any truth in it?

I very much doubt it.

You don't believe in ghosts?

No.

Don't believe Olivia Witherspoon

or the stories, the howls,
and the blood-curdling screams.

But you know what I reckon?

She's doing it all herself
just for the hell of it.

The stories I can tell you
about that attention-seeking...

Can we buy you a drink... Barry?

I really don't like this at all,
James.

Just stay close.

- Okay.
- Perfectly safe with me.

Okay.

The sounds come from
everywhere... and nowhere.

You mean like something
supernatural...

...like real ghosts?

No.

What I'm saying is
it doesn't make sense... yet.

Oh!

Until a few weeks ago,

she claimed she'd never even
seen Lamont's ghost.

Now we're supposed to believe
Ivy Hall

is like something
out of "The Amityville Horror."

But why would she lie?

Just for the sake of it.

There's nothing
that vindictive old cow won't do

- to cause trouble.
- Wow.

You really don't like her,
do you?

Ain't only me, mate.

She's targeted everyone in the
village at some time or other.

Targeted how?

False allegations, vandalism,
slander.

I've been investigated
for lock-ins,

noise pollution, food standards,
tax evasion.

Olivia Witherspoon is pure evil.

Sorry, Carol.

Didn't mean to insult your mum
to your face.

Why not?
It's all true.

Large glass of merlot, please.

Make that a bottle.

See?

What exactly are we looking for?

I don't know.

Just something...

...that would explain...

...why anyone would go
to such lengths to frighten her.

What the hell are these?

She has been spying on everyone
in the village.

This is vicious stuff...
complaints, accusations,

calls to the police, all timed
and dated, going back years.

Here's her latest entry.

What's that?

It's a letter
from a Percy Fleming,

upping his offer to buy Ivy Hall
for the third time.

Well, someone seems very keen to
get their hands on this place.

Cheers.

Oi, Perce.
Pint of blacks?

And a bag of pork scratchings,
uh, large.

Carol, how's things?

No love lost there, then.

Sorry about that, mate.

She's her mother's daughter,
all right.

It's all right.
I'm used to it.

Hey, you see any supernatural
activity on your way over?

The hall's all lit up,
if that counts.

Olivia must have visitors.

Only people with friends
have visitors, mate.

She ain't got none of them
'round here.

So Percy wants to buy Ivy Hall,
but he's losing patience.

So what does he do?

He steps it up a gear,

wages a campaign of terror
in order to force her hand.

You really think anyone
would go that far?

Well, at this stage,
it's all we've got.

James, look.

There'll be some...
perfectly rational explanation.

Yeah.

No need for alarm.

It's just an illusion, Agatha...
designed to fill you with fear.

It's working.

Mrs. Raisin!

Where on earth
do you think you're going?

Well, that was humiliating.

We made a complete
and utter fool of ourselves.

It wasn't a total waste of time.

We found out
about Percy Fleming.

Whatever it is you're selling,
I'm not interested, I'm afraid.

But you are interested
in buying Ivy Hall.

You'd better come in.

I was just a humble
I.T. support worker.

Games writing was just my hobby.

Until "Beasts of the Abyss"
became a global phenomenon.

Mm. Making you wealthy enough
to buy Ivy Hall.

H-How do you know about that...
if you don't mind me asking?

Jammy dodger?

Thank you.

Uh, Olivia Witherspoon thinks

that someone is trying to
force her out of her own house.

And when we came across
your letter,

you became a person of interest
to us.

Well, I-I've always loved
Ivy Hall,

the history surrounding it.

Never dreamed I might be able
to afford it one day.

Mm.

Must be terribly frustrating
for you,

Olivia refusing to sell.

She thinks I've worked out

where Lamont's famous treasure
is hidden.

Ah. Well, that would make it
worth buying, wouldn't it?

People have searched the estate
for years,

scoured the house, the grounds,

tried to find
the secret passage.

There's no historical evidence
it ever existed.

What made you think that she
would accept your third offer?

Well, her son, Harry.

Garibaldi?

He claims his mother needs
to sell for financial reasons,

told me to deal with him direct
to avoid any embarrassment.

But, well, that set off
alarm bells.

Why?

You've probably heard
of the, uh, Crossed Swords.

The what what?

Olivia hates them,

refuses to allow
any reenactments on the estate.

When Harry joined up,

their relationship broke down
completely.

Oh. And you are a member
of the, uh, Crossed Swords?

I'm the historical consultant.

I know all the battle moves,

but I'm... I'm not really built
for combat.

So you thought Harry
was taking advantage of her.

Exactly.
So I made my offer direct.

Olivia she had absolutely no
intention of selling to anyone.

Screamed down the phone

that she'd call the police
if I didn't stop harassing her.

So Harry was lying.

Who knows?

Olivia Witherspoon is a law
unto herself

and an expert manipulator.

I'd walk away now,
while you still have the chance.

Custard cream?

No, thank you.

Oh, my God!

Oh!

Oh, Marilyn!

What have they done to you?

It's not just that, I'm afraid.

"Cnun... mauqniler te et rairom"?

Nunc relinquam te et moriar.

It's Latin...
"Leave now or die."

Someone reported
a vandalized car.

Thought it sounded like yours.

But then I thought,

"What on earth would Agatha
be doing in Hebberdon?"

Well, we just fancied a little
drive, didn't we, James?

You know, different views...
fresher air.

All right.
So you weren't...

I don't know...
ghost hunting up at Ivy Hall?

We may have had a teeny,
wee look.

Why?
Do you have a problem with that?

No. I suppose ghosts
are an improvement on fairies.

What's next?
Vampires? Zombies?

Little green men
in flying saucers?

Mm.

You may mock, Bill Wong,

but a vulnerable elderly woman
is frightened for her life,

and you lot have done nothing
about it.

So we have stepped
into the breach, my friend.

Yeah.
Well, good luck with that.

Olivia Witherspoon has form
as a troublemaker.

You're wasting your time.

When you say Olivia
has got form, what do you mean?

Yeah.
What do you mean?

Come on, Bill.

We had a deal.
Remember?

And you are gonna tell me
everything.

Call me when these clowns
have gone, will you?

Yes, Mr. Devere.

Oh!

After you.

Thank you.

Thanks.

That was Florian Devere.
I've got all his books.

- Who?
- Florian Devere.

The TV history guy...

"Henry VIII:
Tudor's Tortured Terrorist"?

Never mind him.

What are all this lot doing
in here?

Oh!
Excuse me.

Do you mind
just watching what you're doing

with your spear thing?

- Oh!
- Aw!

Can you just keep that dog
under control, please?

- Shouldn't be allowed in a bar.
- Hey.

That dog never leaves my side.

So if you don't like it,
maybe you should leave.

Good boy!

Come on. Come here.

Good God.
What's that?

Good morrow, Mistress Raisin.

Verily, 'tis
a most pleasant surprise.

The Crossed Swords are up
at Charles' place.

D.C.I. Wilkes is a Roundhead
captain and the executioner.

Splendid.
We should go, Agatha.

No. No.

Just no to...
Don't ever ask me again.

Well?

Well, Olivia has definitely got
more enemies than friends.

And they all reckon she staged
the haunting herself.

Oh.
What about my car?

She do that as well
in broad daylight?

Olivia Witherspoon has a record
of antisocial behavior,

including vandalism
and graffiti.

So our vulnerable OAP
is the Banksy of Hebberdon

and all-around badass?

Respect.

Right, then!

Got a text
from Commander Barley!

Pike formation drill
in half an hour!

Time to muster yourselves, lads!

All right. Thank you.
I've got a text message, too.

All right. Um...
Ah.

If any of our good gentlefolk
are free this very eve,

then there will be
a mead-and-mutton social

for all new members.

Also, uh, peasant women and old
hags are particularly welcome.

Oh, Aggie, you should go.

Sorry, Roy.

No one's permitted
to touch these but me.

- They're just toys, James.
- Correction.

They're rare and valuable
vintage armies.

I've been collecting them
since I was a boy.

- Yeah... to play with like toys.
- No.

To re-create and relive
the key strategic decisions

of history's
most famous battles.

Mum's still got my Action Man
in the loft, I think.

Perhaps I should bring them over
for a gay date...

Sorry.
Play date.

What on earth are you doing?

- Setting up my own re-enactment.
- On my dining table?

I put up with your hideous
scented candles

and Tibetan monks chanting
on repeat.

We're supposed to be working.

I'm just not sure Olivia is
worthy of any more of our time.

You're probably right.

I know what it's like to be
an outsider,

unloved and vilified
by an entire community.

So you're identifying with
a loathsome, vindictive maniac?

Mm. Not so much of a stretch
on a bad day.

I am simply saying that everyone
deserves a second chance.

I mean, I think we're
living proof of that, James.

What exactly are you suggesting?

That Ivy Hall is like Fort Knox.

There's absolutely no evidence
of a break-in.

Which makes sense if Olivia
is doing it by herself.

But not if she isn't.

What if there is
a secret passage outside

leading directly into the house
somewhere?

But if it's so secret,
how do you propose we find it?

If something
doesn't happen soon,

I might have to go for chips.

Yeah. I thought you might
go peckish, so...

What's all this?

Well, it is a date night,

and you're always saying
how unromantic I am.

Oh, and there was I,

thinking you loved your little
toy soldiers more than me.

Well, if you force me
to choose...

I look just as good
in a uniform,

and they definitely
can't do this.

Enemy at 3 o'clock.

Operation Back Passage is go.

Back Passage?
Seriously, James?

Mm-mm-mm-mm-mm.

Still can't believe
what Roy did to Cromwell.

Oh.
He was just messing about.

Mm.

Right.

I will see you later.

Where are you going?

Emergency meeting
of the Ladies Society.

What about me?

"What about me?"
Mm.

James, it's just a snotty cold.
I'm sure you will be fine.

What was that?

Maybe someone saw us
at the window

and they followed us home.

Maybe they know where we live!

Then they started a battle
they're not going to win.

Aah! Haven't you got
a baseball bat or something?

It was the best I could do
given the circumstances.

Shh!

Oh.

Oh, this is a proper jinx.

I'm sure that that went
in that... Oh!

Oh.

Sorry about the mess.

I was trying to use
my initiative,

which is never really
a good plan.

Um...

Toni, Gemma's cousin.
She asked me to cover.

Just... shut it off.
You... Yeah.

Shivering's started again.
Going back to bed.

Nice lounge wear, by the way.

W-Where is Gemma, by the way?

Oh, your neck of the woods.
Ireland.

Yeah. She's gone camping
with her new bloke.

This is my Gemma
we're talking about, is it?

The one that won't go outside
unless there's a barbecue?

Oh, to be fair,
Caleb is totally ripped.

And she knows
it's always raining in Ireland,

so she's banking on being
in a tent with him 24/7.

Mm.

Does she not have a daughter
or something?

Oh, Kyra. She's at her nan's
getting spoiled.

So, I mean, everyone's happy.

- Yeah. Yeah.
- Right.

I'd better crack on
and get this mess cleared up.

Oh.

Oh, God.

- Right.
- Agatha?

Yes?

- Agatha!
- No. No, no.

Mother?

As you can see
from my photographs,

the Crossed Swords
are passionate

about re-enacting battles
that reflect local history,

the next being the infamous
Battle of Titley's Knob.

Sounds like one of them
mucky pornos.

What?

Mr. Boggle's a bit
of an enthusiast.

...but the turnout from
Carsely was very disappointing.

So I'm here,
as commander-in-chief,

to redress the balance.

I thought you said
this was an emergency.

- You wouldn't come otherwise.
- You were right.

We don't just need soldiers.

We need brawlers, drunkards,
painted ladies.

Oh, I-I welcome your enthusiasm,
Mrs. Raisin,

but, uh, harlots died at 30
in the 17th century.

But you'd make a wonderful
pox-ridden harridan.

We try to be as historically
accurate as possible.

Mrs. Bloxby tells me that
Mr. Lacey is also very keen.

And we're a musketeer down

since Mr. Boggle's gun backfired
in his privates.

A blessing in disguise
in many ways.

Uh, can we count
on his participation?

Uh, I think you'll find

that Mr. Lacey is a little
indisposed at the moment.

He is... gravely ill.

He's looking very good
out there.

- What?
- We have to go.

- Where?
- Now.

- Why?
- Olivia Witherspoon is dead.

Well, thank you for that. Bye.

So Bill thinks
it was an accident.

- You clearly don't.
- No, I don't.

Far too much of a coincidence.

So Roy is going to get in touch
with Carol Witherspoon

and get her take on things.

Sarah, who has just been elected
to the parish council,

can look into any recent sales
or planning issues,

because we are looking for
a motive, James.

Well, if it is murder,

our torch-bearing Cavalier
must be a prime suspect.

What does Bill think?

You did tell Bill about it,
didn't you, Agatha?

And give away our best lead when
he mocked me so mercilessly?

I think not, James.

That's my P.I. of the Year
award!

That is irreplaceable!

I'm so sorry, Agatha.
I'll get you a new one.

- Aah! Aah!
- Yeah. No... Yeah.

Uh, there was a wine stain.
Um, I got it out, but...

You used bleach
on aniline leather?

I know. I know.

I didn't really
think it through.

What was the last thing
I said to you?

Uh... not to touch it
under any circumstances.

And... And I didn't,
technically.

- I sort of just used that...
- No. D...

Where the hell is Cromwell?

Uh, the cat run off
with something.

I just thought it was a spider.

I don't suppose
you'll want me back, Agatha.

First sensible thing you've said
all day.

Oh, God.

Yes, Roy.

Well, just try and find her.

Someone must know where she is.

Try the village shop.

Try the post office.

So Roy can't find Carol.

What about her brother?
Henry?

Harry.
Harry Witherspoon.

We don't know where he lives
either, do we?

Harry Witherspoon?

Bladon Antiques,
Cherry Lane, Little Fakenham...

GR53 3NF.

How did you do that?

I, uh, worked
in debt collection,

and his name came up a lot.

It's...
It's a bit of a party trick.

You don't perchance know
a Carol Witherspoon, do you?

3 Rut's End, Cassius Lane,
Hebberdon...

GR54 3LW.

Uh, it's owned by the council.

I-I worked in rent collection.

You get around.

Yeah. I've never kept a job
for more than three weeks.

I promised Gem
I wouldn't mess this up.

She's gonna kill me.

Yeah. We'll just say
it didn't "work out."

Roy, I think we may have
just found Carol.

Hi.

Ooh!

You ghastly little git!
Piss off!

Come inside
before they improve their aim.

Bye.

I wouldn't normally entertain
vultures from the gutter press,

but they might actually
kill you.

I'm not a journalist.

Your mother and my mother
were friends.

She asked me to convey
her sincerest condolences.

Well, she needn't have bothered.

Her death was a happy accident.

You didn't like her very much?

That's an understatement.

Trouble is, everyone's convinced
I'm tarred with the same brush.

Uh, sorry.

I must apologize for my
impoverished surroundings.

But it was all I could afford

once I finally had the guts
to leave.

What happened?

I just couldn't take another
minute of her vile cruelty.

Mother always said she'd cut me
off without a penny if I left.

And she was true to her word.

So who inherits now?

Harry, my weasel brother.

Made his escape years ago
and left me to rot.

And I'll never forgive him.

But why cut you off and not him?

She convinced herself
he'd come crawling back,

but I knew he'd never have
the balls to face her.

The reports said
that you found the body.

Yeah. I used to check up on her
once a week.

I knew no one else would.

Do you believe that she fell?

It was locked from the inside,
there was no sign of a break-in,

and I'm the only one with a key.

She must have just lost
her balance

after her customary bottle
of malt.

So you don't buy into
this whole haunting story, then?

Mother made the whole thing up

to lure Harry and I
back into her web.

- Mm.
- She fell, clear and simple.

Maybe there is a god after all.

You said your mother
was a friend of hers.

But Mother didn't have
any friends.

School friends,
way before your time.

I'd better go.

Bye.

I don't believe it.

What?

Agatha, he's got an 1847
Cromwell in pristine condition.

Come on.

About to close, I'm afraid.

I've got a cavalry charge
practice.

Oh.
Another good re-enactment.

In fact,
the Battle of Titley's Knob...

That has got to be one of my top
10 favorites of all time.

Yes.

If there's anything you're
particularly interested in,

uh, give me a call.

- Witherspoon?
- Yes. That's right.

Don't suppose you're related
to Olivia Witherspoon, are you?

Yes. She's my...
Well, she was my mother, yeah.

Ah.
Condolences.

She was an exceptional woman.

Oh, you knew her, did you?

Sadly, only briefly.

Yes. She gave us a call when the
police refused to investigate.

Well, she wasted your time.

I mean, my mother was losing
her mind, you know.

Probably dementia.

But she was a proud woman who
would have hated her decline.

Uh, the fall was a blessing.

Mm. Mm.

Now, if you don't mind,
I've, uh...

When did you last see
your mother, Harry?

As I said,
I really do have to go, so...

I don't suppose I could have
a quick look at Cromwell.

No!

Wow. Excuse us.

Carol seems 100% sure
her death was an accident.

Pbht! Well, that's the story
she'd have you believe.

But what would Carol gain
from killing her?

Her mother had cut her out
of the will,

left everything to Harry.

Yeah. He was very defensive
when we mentioned her.

He lied
to the planning department.

He told them he had power
of attorney over the estate.

Oh, Olivia would never give up
her power to anyone.

Especially not Harry.

They've been estranged
for years.

And it seems Percy Fleming was
not the only potential buyer.

Other interested parties
had inquired

about extending change of use.

Well, we know
that he needed money.

How do we know this?

Because Toni saw his name
on a list

at a debt-collecting agency.

- Uh...
- Don't ask.

How much did he owe
and how fast did he need it?

Fast enough to have to murder
his mother?

If indeed it was murder.

When do we get
the pathologist's verdict?

This afternoon.

I never gave you permission
to use my collectibles!

Do you want to solve this
or do you not, James?

Murder by person
or persons unknown.

I knew it.

Olivia's neck was broken
by a blow, not a fall,

her body placed
under the balcony

to make it look like she fell.

So that's that, then.
Back to the drawing board.

I'm not giving up now!

- Our client is dead, Aggie.
- Exactly!

Which makes for an even better,
bigger story

if we find out who did it.

Right.

Olivia Witherspoon,
owner of Ivy Hall.

Our number-one suspect,
Harry Witherspoon.

Wow.
Nice pad, Aggie.

Very down with the kids.

Yeah. We're just a little bit
busy right now, Charles.

Oh, can I play? You know
how I love an investigation.

I thought you had a civil war
to organize.

Yes, I do.
But I am the king, you see?

So I just have to waft around,
waving my handkerchief.

Plus, I know the victim.

Ivy Hall borders
the Barfield Estate.

Oh. Well, in that case,
what did you think of Olivia?

Ah.
Ghastly woman.

Do you know she tried to
accuse me of seducing her?

I mean, as if.

So Harry tries to kill
his mother

with a blow to the throat,

making it looked like
she'd fallen from the balcony.

Uh, there's no evidence

to suggest Harry murdered
his mother.

And why bother setting up
the haunting?

Well, one can die of fright,
you know.

I nearly did when I saw
the inheritance-tax bill

- after Daddy died.
- "Daddy"?

Harry underestimates
his mother's fortitude

and has to finish the job.

But... he has an alibi.

Witnesses place Harry

at the Mutton and Mead event
in camp all that night.

It's bad news for Harry
either way.

He can't sell Ivy Hall
until the case is solved.

All right.

Enter suspect number two...

...Carol Witherspoon,
who faked the entire haunting

so that her mother
could feel the fear

that she'd inflicted on her
for her entire life.

And then killed her.

But how? I still don't think
she's capable.

Then, of course, we've got
the entire village of Hebberdon,

including Barry Briar,
persecuted pub landlord,

and Percy Fleming,

who himself was desperate
to get his mitts on Ivy Hall.

Yes, but the trouble is,

we have no real evidence
against any of them.

We need to understand the layout
of the house

and the surrounding grounds,

find out where a possible
secret passageway could be.

What about Barfield's
architectural collection?

Surely Ivy Hall is in there.

It is indeed,
but those awful heritage people

have barred me
from my own plan room.

What? Why?

Charles spilled port on some
Christopher Wren originals.

Oh, come on, Charles.
You never play by the rules.

Look. Without their patronage,
my ticket sales will plummet.

But nobody would know.

Look...

Thank you.

I can't risk it,
and that's an end of it.

Oh, well, thank you for nothing,
Charles.

Well, fine.

I know when I'm not wanted.

What about a Cavalier
with a torch?

The one we saw
on the night she died.

- What Cavalier?
- Yeah. What Cavalier?

- Did I not mention the Cavalier?
- You definitely didn't.

Well, I did mention...

We share everything, Agatha.
That was the deal.

Yes, yes, yes.

I'll share it with you later,
then.

Yeah.

Sarah, you've been to the camp.

How easy is it
to get the uniforms?

Mrs. Boggle signs them in and
out, but she's not there 24/7.

All right. So pretty much anyone
could be our mystery Cavalier.

What about Lamont's treasure?

Fleming said that it was a hoax,
but what if it wasn't?

It'd be worth a fortune by now.

It'd certainly give him
a motive.

Plus, we don't really know
if we can trust Percy, do we?

Florian Devere would have
an opinion on that.

No one knows more about the
Civil War period than he does.

We should pay him a visit.

Sorry to, uh, interrupt,
but I found this in my pocket.

Cromwell!

I, uh, couldn't find his horse,
so I borrowed this one off Kyra.

Oh, it's perfect.
Isn't it, James?

I'm, uh, I'm sorry about...
about everything.

Just...

Well, um, actually, Toni...

...I might need someone
to go undercover.

I'll do anything.

I mean trial period only,
obviously.

No promises, but...

When do I start?

Good morrow, comely wench.

Wither wander thou?

Thou seemest lost... eth.

I'm looking for
Sir Charles Fraith.

Oh, thou speaks of His Majesty,
the king, forsooth.

Yeah.

Well, he lies
within his chamber hence.

Seek and ye shall find.

- Cheers.
- No worries.

Weird.

Look at the size of his dojo.

Oh.

Oh, he loves himself,
doesn't he?

As you're being so negative,

I think I should ask
the questions.

He'll open up a lot more easily
if he thinks I fancy him,

not you.

But I do not fancy him.

James, that is your hero.

It would be as if I met Madonna.

I would be sweating,
talking gibberish.

I may even lose control
of my bladder a wee bit.

It wouldn't be good.

Go away.
Go.

Ooh. Sorry.
I-I think I'm intruding.

No. Not at all.
How can I help?

Uh, well, I'm... I'm sorry.
I-I shouldn't really be here.

But a friend...

I just wanted to say thank you
for, uh...

Oliver Cromwell's warts.

Oh.
Uh, "Cromwell: Warts and All."

Yes. Sorry.
Uh, of course.

Just that I'm, uh,
ridiculously nervous to...

Oh.
Um, please come in.

Oh.
Thank you.

Oh.

What lovely legs you've got,
Sir Charles.

They're slim,
but they're shapely.

And that garter, it just
sets them off to perfection.

Oh, yes.
It does, doesn't it?

And here it is...
your crowning glory.

Ah!

Oh.

- Oh, yes.
- Oh.

Oh, yes.

Oh, very Russell Brand
in his heyday.

Dirty, filthy bad boy.

Yeah. I was thinking more, uh...
Oh, what's her name?

Cher.

After she'd had all the surgery.

May I help you, young lady?

Um, yeah.

Um, I'm, um, doing a project
on Barfield House

for the Ladies Society.

Um, I know it sounds
a bit cheeky,

but I just wondered if I could
have a little poke around.

I could give you a mini tour
if you'd like.

Oh.
Thanks, Charlie.

Oh.
Am I all right to call you that?

You look totally lush
in that wig, by the way.

Excuse us.
Shall we?

Through there?

The door, yes.

- I'm sorry to keep you.
- Ooh!

I was feeling a little, uh,
underdressed.

- Oh.
- I don't even know your name.

Oh.
Well, it is...

...Agatha.

Agatha.
Agatha Raisin!

- Mm.
- Our famous local sleuth.

I hope I'm not in any trouble.

Oh, no, no, no, no, no.
Not at all.

I just wanted some
of your historical expertise,

if you will, with regard
to the late Olivia Witherspoon.

Ah, yes.
Poor Olivia.

Yes.
Poor Olivia.

You know, how much do you know
about the history of Ivy Hall,

Lamont's murder,
that kind of thing?

Just some general information.

Excuse me.

Um, sorry to bother you,

but I was waiting outside
for Agatha

and realized I had
one of your books in the car.

Could you spare me a minute
to sign it?

- Of course. Come in.
- Thank you.

Uh, who shall I dedicate it to?

James.
James Lacey.

I can't begin to tell you what
an honor it is to meet you.

I've got all your books, DVDs.

You're a total inspiration.

You're very kind.

I'm a historian myself.
Military.

"Raid Over Romford"?

It's on my wish list.

I thought I recognized
your name.

Please stay.

Oh, it'd be an honor,
Mr. Devere.

Florian, please.

The staircase dates from 1720,

when the house
was extensively remodeled.

And here... is Charles II
himself.

So he's a relative of yours?

Can't you see the resemblance?

Well, you're much fitter.

I think so, too.

And here is dear Nell Gwyn
with her marvelous oranges.

You deserve a Nell, Charlie,
someone to share an orange with.

I mean, you're still pretty fit.

Ah, Toni.

If only I were 10 years younger.

Twenty.

Fifteen?

Yeah, deal.
Um, who's next?

Ah. Now, this is naughty
Uncle Algie.

Now, there's a story.

The whole legend surrounding
the mystery of Lamont

has always fascinated me, James.

In fact, I did some research
for a potential documentary.

Murder, missing treasure,
ghosts...

makes for a pretty compelling
pitch.

But, um, alas,
there wasn't enough evidence.

But I thought that...

Percy Fleming mentioned there
were rumors of a secret passage.

I conducted an extensive search
of the property.

Found nothing to suggest
that's even remotely true.

Fleming writes video games.

He lives in a fantasy world.

Well, as a fellow historian,

you'll understand
that I rely purely on evidence.

Yes, but surely if the...

Percy claims to be
historical consultant

to the Crossed Swords.

Bunch of cosplaying half-wits
who give history a bad name.

Percy and I aren't
the best of friends.

Oh.
H-Have you finished?

Right.
Question.

Does Lamont's treasure exist
or does it not?

Sadly, I think not.

History is full of stories
we'd all rather believe

than disprove.

Uh-huh.
Right.

Well, I think we've taken up
far too much of your time.

So...

James, shall we?

I could, uh, drop off a copy
of my book, if you'd like.

I'd love to know what you think.

Oh, we could have dinner maybe.

I'd love that.

Yeah.

So, um, we've got
the, uh, china collection

and the domed ceiling.

I think you've seen
everything important now.

Ooh. Apart from the, uh,
architectural collection.

Yes.

That's in there.

Unfortunately,
I no longer have the key.

Ah.

I could take the hem
of your doublet up now

if you'd like, Your Majesty.

Well, I thought just
another couple of inches.

Ooh.
Saucy.

Not too much, is it?

And if you've got it, flaunt it.

Well, exactly.

So, um...

Do you mind if I have
another look at your pictures?

Help yourself.
I'll be right back.

I could do you four inches.

Oh, no. We don't want to
frighten the horses.

Your Majesty!

Yes!

Uh, Toni?

Toni?

Toni?

As you can see,
the photos are rubbish,

so I drew that one
from memory.

That's what I call a superpower.

Not really. Things just
sort of stick in my brain.

And that is the entire plan?

Yeah.

No little passageways
from the house

to the grounds or anything?

No.
That's it.

Mm.

I still think we should
go back to Ivy Hall

and just check it out.

The police are all over it.

We could crash the wake.

Toni, you're a genius.

Have I got the job, then?

How are your waitressing skills?

Yeah. Yeah.
Great.

Bang goes us keeping
a low profile.

You look like an extra
from "My Fair Lady."

Oh, shush.

Percy and Florian at 3 o'clock.

What are you doing here?

I've just come to pay
my respects, obviously.

You're a clown, Percy.

He really doesn't like Percy
at all, does he?

Carol doesn't seem to have time
for either of them.

Here he comes... Harry.

Very good actor.
I'll give him that.

I mean, this should be
the happiest day of his life.

And if that is the case,
what else is he lying about?

James, good to see you again.

And you, Anita.

- Agatha.
- Of course.

We must sort out a date
for that dinner, James.

That'd be lovely.

Will you excuse me for a moment?

Look at you.
You two should get a room.

You're just jealous... Anita.

Those two look very friendly,
don't they,

considering they're meant
to hate each other's guts.

Oh, Percy, a little surprised
to see you here.

Not sure I'd be
quite so forgiving.

Oh, I wanted to pay my respects
to the family.

We were still neighbors,
after all.

Well, you could catch Carol now.

I don't really know her
that well.

It's, um, Harry I want to see.

Excuse me.

He's not wasting any time,
is he?

What do you mean?

He could put an offer in
on Ivy Hall now.

Terribly convenient
for both of them.

Drink, madam?

I don't mind if I do.

Well?

So far, so good.

Where's Roy?

Oh, they put him out the back
on food prep.

He ain't happy.

This I have to see.

Just so you know,
all the guests are here now.

Oh. Right.

Well, time to do
a little snooping.

- Oh!
- Oh!

- Oh!
- So sorry!

Oh.

I'm so sorry.

What?

I think I found a back passage,

but not quite the one
we were looking for.

This is way too risky.

We'll have to come back later,
when the place is empty.

But we need a key.

We need a key.

What are you...
What are you doing?!

You are supposed to be
a kitchen professional!

You're gonna blow our cover!

That's all right for you,
drinking shampoo

and mixing
with the hoi polloi.

I have a good mind to fly back
to New York, where I'm loved,

appreciated,
and not a slave... very often.

Well, just you do that.
Go on.

But first I need you to steal
a set of keys for me.

Toni said she saw some
in the pantry.

Do you think you can maybe
do that for me, possibly,

without messing it up?

You see? That's called karma.
Do you need a hand at all?

Missed.

I told Roy to get the key.

Psst! Aggie.
Aggie.

They were talking about you.
It sounded serious.

I told her to be more discreet.

Someone must have got wind.

Probably that wee man
in the toilet.

Right. I think
we should probably leave.

Uh, Ms. Raisin, may we have
a word with you, please?

Yeah.

We brought you in here so
that we wouldn't be disturbed.

We really don't want the police
to be involved.

I just... I'm really very sorry.
I-I got lost.

I was up your...

You know, the...

No harm done, eh?

You'll, uh,
you'll not see me again.

Uh, no. Sorry.

I-I think there's been
some sort of misunderstanding.

We don't want you to go
anywhere.

The police are convinced we're
guilty of our mother's murder.

They're not even looking
for anyone else.

But we know we are innocent.

I thought you two loathed
each other.

Well, after the inquest,
we got drunk together,

realized Mother had deliberately

turned us against each other
all our lives.

She wanted us at daggers drawn
even after her death.

But I shall not give her
that satisfaction.

The inheritance will be shared
equally.

But that can't happen
until the real murderer is found

and the case solved...

which is why we need you,
Mrs. Raisin.

You'll be richly rewarded
once the money is released.

Ah.

Well?

What?

Well, of course I said yes.

But it just doesn't feel right,

the two of them being
bosom buddies all of a sudden.

Well, I don't trust
either of them.

I reckon they're definitely
hiding something.

Well, the key to the mystery
is in that house.

And we now have a key.

Oh, what are you doing?

The noises are definitely
coming from this area.

Don't antagonize them, then!

There must be a trapdoor...

Oh!

...a door in the paneling
or something.

- This way.
- Okay.

Come on. Stay close.

Aah! No!

Where are you? I c...
Where's the torch?

Where's the torch?!

What is it with all the foxes?!

Oh! Oh!
What's happening?!

Oh!

Ooh. Ooh.

Aah!

Okay.

James... is that you?

Of course it's me.

Who else would it be?
And why are you screaming?

You... You abandoned me!

Well, you didn't keep up!

Well, my torch broke!

Here.
Take my spare.

Look, we're onto something.

There was a door in the panel.

And look.
Smoke machine.

And this...

...is our ghost.

What?

S-So... someone got in...

Someone got in here
without being seen?

- But... who?
- How?

God.

Oh.

Whoa.

Come on, love.
Help me push this.

Weird.

It's like it's been stuck
to the floor.

Come on.
Pull.

Oh, my God.

Well, you were right.

I was.

It's incredible.

The air quality
is starting to change.

Oh, yeah.

Must be getting close
to an exit.

Mm.

What's that?

It's an old shaft.

Come on, James.
Get me on your shoulders, then.

Is that really necessary?

Yes, it is really necessary,

because that might be
our way out.

- Come on.
- W-Wait.

Wait!

I thought you prided yourself
on your catlike agility.

Wait.

Maybe you should get down
to a gym.

Oh!

I think... I can see a ladder.

Oh!

Aah!

Aah!

Oh, God.

Oh.

Ugh.

Oh.

What the hell is this?

Don't mind that.

Let's find that ladder.

Oh.
James, wait for me!

Oh, God.

I'll go first.

Okay.

- Hold tight.
- Mm-hmm.

Oh.

Oh.

Ugh.

First you pelt me with rocks,

then you shower me
with what smells like excrement.

No one calls me a clumsy lummox

when they can't even touch
their toes

or stand on one leg anymore.

That is utter rubbish.

Look.

Well, I bet you can't do this.

Agatha.

I thought there wasn't supposed
to be anyone at the house!

There's not.

We need to leave.

We found a secret passage.

What?

And... this.

Tell them whose it is.

It is Sir Geoffrey Lamont's.

Oh, the murdered Civil War guy.
That's awesome.

It's his journal.

Oh, maybe there's a clue
about the treasure.

His descriptions of battles.

Well, come on. Skip to the back.
Is there a map?

Uh, the last entry
is 3rd of September 1651.

Well, that was the day
he was murdered.

Read it, then, nerd.

"Though I am gone,
our love lives on.

Priceless treasure safe
in the broken heart of one dead

but standing still
on the horizon.

But even the finest bloodstones,
amethysts, rubies,

firestones, Indian emeralds,
lapis, and diamonds

can never match the peerless
beauty of your eyes."

It's hardly X marks the spot,
is it?

He knew he was gonna die.
This is some sort of riddle.

I'm good at that sort of stuff.
I'll give it try.

Well, take a photo, and then
we'll hide it somewhere.

I'm sorry, Agatha.

This is a document
of huge historical importance.

We're obliged to turn it over
to the authorities.

What, and get Aggie struck off

before she can solve
the case of her life?

She'll get done for trespassing,
tampering with evidence,

- being a nosy bi...
- F-Fine. Fine.

But we've got to tell the police
about the passage.

- It's key to the investigation.
- Oh!

Well, we'll do it anonymously,
then,

And then, uh, I don't know.
I'll think of something.

It's almost curfew.
I have to get back to camp.

- Anything on Harry?
- Oh, his alibi seems watertight.

Anyone driving in or out
of the camp after curfew

gets reported to the commander.

What if he was on foot?

Roy, can you just go
back there with Sarah?

Just do a little bit of digging
on Harry.

Just see how long it takes

to walk from Barfield House
to Ivy Hall.

Mrs. Boggle!

Oh.

Mrs. Boggle!

What do you reckon, Mrs. Raisin?

One of our painted ladies
did a runner.

It's not too much, is it?

No.
Absolutely not.

I genuinely think
it's rather stunning.

I keep telling her she should
send the vicar a selfie.

That would keep his pecker up.

Presumably, you've got to really
get it smashed down there.

Working hard?

We're not just polishing
muskets, Aggie.

I timed the walk to Ivy Hall.

It's possible Harry made it
there and back

- within the time frame.
- Really?

Can we see if Robin Barley
actually took any photographs

on the night of the murder?

Okay.

Where do they keep the uniforms?

Just...

Whoa!

I really can't help you
any further, D.C. Wong,

but if anything comes to mind,
I'll definitely be in touch.

Peasant man.

Dirty old peasant man.

Peasant man.

Dirty old man.

Yes.

That'll do us.

No, no, no.
Oh.

I think we'll have this.

Harry Witherspoon.

Ah!
Mistress Raisin.

What art thou doing
in these foreign parts?

Um... Commander Barley thought
it might be a good idea

if everyone just got a little
bit more, you know, involved.

So I just thought I would come
and have a look for a costume.

Oh, well.
Verily, the more the merrier.

Oh, thou wouldst look
most beauteous in, uh... this...

this little silken garment.

Mistress Raisin?

Mm.
How about...

"Hello, love."

"Hello, sir."

Well, the button
matches Harry's jacket,

which implicates him,
but it doesn't prove anything.

Where's the note
about the passage?

It's in the glove box.

All right.
So Bill's car is a gray Audi.

Mm-hmm.

You sure you're all right
with this?

I am.

Oh, yeah.
Thank you.

Can I help?

Just checking out
your photographs.

These are really, um,
extraordinary.

Thank you.

I've also got
some marvelous film footage.

Been shooting all week
on a documentary idea.

Anything I could take a look at?

I mean, I work in PR, so I could
probably help you out.

You know.

Can I help you?

Bill?

Toni?

It's Bill.

I haven't seen you since
you threw up on my trainers

at Gemma's 18th.

How was I to know
the fruit punch was 90% vodka?

I was 10.

- Can you give us a hand?
- Oh.

You used to be a right chubster
back then.

Gem used to call you
Mr. Blubber Man.

Well, I've been to the gym
since then.

Yeah.
I can see that.

And you've... grown up.

Yeah.

Right.
Well, then, I'd better...

'Cause...

If anyone says
anything, you haven't seen me.

People are starting to ask
questions,

and if it comes to that,
I'm not going to lie for you.

Why should I protect you

after the despicable way
you treated me?

I completely forgot
about beheading rehearsals.

I'll be right with you.

Denzel Wilkes.

I'm very flattered,
but you really must stop this.

Look, I've got to go.
I promised to meet someone.

But thank you very much
for the flowers.

There was a vase of flowers
in the tent.

Police think someone put cyanide
in the water.

Seriously?
Cyanide?

That's not something you find
in your kitchen cabinet, is it?

I did see a man
in an executioner's costume

running away.

He's got to be a suspect.

Who plays the executioner?

D.C.I. Wilkes,
so unlikely, I'd say.

Unless his extreme Method acting
has taken him to the dark side.

How'd you get on
with the riddle?

Yeah. It's a tough one to crack,
but I'll get there.

Have you told Bill
about the journal yet?

Uh... nah.

Bill's got enough on his plate.

What?
We're so close to cracking this.

I think that a wee bit longer
is not gonna do him any harm.

Sir, could I have a word?

Uh, 'tis a dastardly business,
I grant thee.

I'm not quite sure
how to put this.

Prithee, young man.

If it's wisdom thou seeketh,

though has cometh
to the right place.

Actually I need to clear
your name as a murder suspect.

Gadzooks.

Thou doth surely speak falsely,
stout yeoman.

Hello, Harry.

Going somewhere?

Look, I know...
I know this looks suspicious,

but it's... it's really not
what it seems.

The mortgage company
has finally foreclosed,

and so I-I have no option
but to leave.

So...

Recognize this?

Um, it's a uniform button.

Yes, it is indeed...

that we found at Ivy Hall
down in a cellar

next to the trapdoor
leading to the passageway

that you said didn't exist.

I'm sorry.

I-I really don't know
what you're talking about.

I saw your jacket, Harry.

It was missing a button...
this button.

Well, m-my jacket was missing
from the tent that night.

You know, I-I was in...
I was in shirt sleeves.

I got into trouble
with the commander.

I mean, the next morning,
it... it had been returned.

I-I had just thought
it was someone's simple mistake.

How many people have
this same uniform button?

Well, no one.

Each button has its own rank
and division.

You see, Robin Barley filmed
the event you attended

the night your mother died.

The event that you claim
that you were at all night.

You lied because according
to that footage,

it proves that you were away
for at least an hour and a half,

which would give you enough time
to go back to Ivy Hall,

murder your mother,
and then walk back to camp.

Look.

My mother was a cruel,
hateful woman.

We were locked away, unloved,
always found wanting.

She called me "girlie," "wet."

She sensed that I was gay,
and she loathed me for it.

She even had a clause
written into her will

that said if I ever came out,
I wouldn't inherit a penny.

So what, she found out
about your sexuality,

and you decided to kill her?

Okay. All right.
Look.

I was at Ivy Hall that night,
all right?

But I was in the grounds.

I was... I was with a man.

But we'd been seen.

Barry Briar
and his metal detector.

And I knew he'd do anything
to punish my mother,

so I begged him not to tell,
and he agreed...

but for a price.

So he was blackmailing you?

Only till I couldn't pay
anymore.

Then he called the police.

That's why they're coming
for me now.

Harry!

You can't run away from this
forever.

If you are innocent,
please let me prove it for you.

Hmm?

We need to get Roy to rewatch
the film from that night,

see if he was actually wearing
a jacket or not.

If it wasn't him, who was it?

Well, Harry claims
that Barry Briar

was in the grounds that night,
so I don't know.

Maybe he's our mystery Cavalier.

And you are 100% sure of that?

All right, Roy.
Well, thank you for that.

What? What?
What is it with me?

Just... Look.
What are you trying to tell me?

I don't understand
what you're saying.

Just... Just... I don't have
an affinity with dogs.

More of a cat person.
No... No offense.

Just... Off you go.
Off you go. Off you go.

Shoo. Shoo. Shoo.
Shoo. Shoo.

Well?

Barry didn't turn up
for work today.

Oh.
Well, is that unusual?

The barmaid said
that he tends to go AWOL

when the Crossed Swords
are in camp.

But she thought he'd have called
by now.

It doesn't feel right.

Well, she didn't seem
too worried.

Reckons he'll turn up
when the mead runs dry.

Any news from Roy?

Yeah.
Well, he watched the film again.

And it would appear that Harry
wasn't wearing the jacket,

which implies that he was
telling the truth...

unlike Carol and Percy.

That man looked me in the eye
and told me he didn't know her.

He's certainly making up
for lost time.

Or maybe
they've been lying all along.

Hey!

Not interrupting, are we?

Look at that.
Guilty faces now.

- Mm-hmm.
- Mm-hmm.

- Shall we?
- Let's.

Agatha, I-I want to explain.

And why should I believe you?

You've lied to the police.
You've lied to us.

What else are you hiding?

Mother set out to destroy
every relationship I ever had.

I knew she'd ridicule me
for being with someone younger

and not one of us,

but I didn't give a snuff
about any of that.

I knew Percy loved me.

And she never did.

Carol had been very vocal about
how much she hated her mother.

When she died, we knew people
would be suspicious

about why we'd kept
our relationship secret.

I-I can't pretend to be sad
about Olivia,

but Robin was my friend.

Until Florian Devere
poisoned her against you.

Florian?
How?

I always dreamed that I'd find
the treasure one day.

It turned into a serious hobby.

What's that got to do
with Florian?

Robin asked me to help with
a documentary she was planning

on the Lamont story.

When she got an exciting new
lead from some bigwig at Oxford,

I offered to check it out.

Florian got there before me.

She was blinded by his charm,
his celebrity.

He told her I was an amateur,
couldn't be trusted,

that I was just using her
to get to the treasure first.

She chose to believe him.

But she regretted it.

Percy, tell her.

Robin called me the day
she was murdered,

asked me to meet her
at her studio.

Sounded scared.

I got there sometime
between 7:30 and 8:00,

but she wasn't there.

I just thought she'd changed
her mind.

Barry Briar!

Oh!
I knew something wasn't right!

- What?
- Oh!

Oh, God.

Well, Barry said that Ironside
never, ever left his side,

so why was he at the pub
without...

Uh...

James!

When you were at the bar,
Ironside was there,

barking at me, desperate.

He was trying to tell me
something.

- Agatha, slow down.
- Okay.

What if Harry was not
the only one

that was being blackmailed
by Barry, hmm?

We know Barry used his metal
detector around the grounds.

If he was killed there,

the passageway would be
a perfect place to hide a body!

Can't this wait
until the morning?

No, James, it can't!

Aah!

What if Barry found out
that Percy was the murderer

and tried to blackmail him
as well?

Percy was on the brink

of getting everything
he ever wanted...

Ivy Hall, Carol,
maybe even the treasure.

He wasn't gonna let Barry
stand in his way.

We know that Percy was fond
of a little secret.

And behind that nerdy,
biscuit-nibbling veneer,

he was a bloody good liar.

Vindictive, too.

I mean,
trying to implicate Florian.

Percy's garden has direct,
private access onto Ivy Hall

and the camp at Barfield.

What if he killed them all
completely under the radar?

This is all conjecture.

- We need evidence.
- Exactly.

So while the police are away
investigating Barry's death,

we are going to go
and find some.

They're not called emergency
knickers for nothing, James.

Go on.
Try the door.

It's locked.

Not the Earl of Cleveland.

Agatha, please.

We all have to make sacrifices,
James.

What exactly are we looking for?

Surveillance footage
from the night that Robin died.

She was killed sometime
between 7:30 and 8:00,

which is the time that
Percy claims that he was here.

Okay. Well, this proves
that he's lying.

I'm gonna call Bill.

No.
Just give it a minute.

What have we here?

Okay.
So it couldn't have been Percy.

James... there must be
a darkroom here.

Oh.

Is, uh, James around?

I promised I'd return this.

No, he's not.
But, um, come in.

What are you doing?

I studied photography
at college.

A term in the darkroom.

Tutor was French,
highly skilled.

Along the way, I learned a thing
or two about processing.

And here we are...
liquid cyanide.

Old-school chemical
for sepia toning,

so whoever killed Robin Barley
must have got it from here.

Agatha, we should go.

No. No, no, no, no, no.
No. No. Not yet.

Florian's at the agency.

We found what we came for.

That's criminal damage.

In for a penny, eh?

What have we here?

Years of research.

All sorts of academic papers.

Who's that?

It's a Frank Dover.

It would appear he dedicated
his entire life

to finding Lamont's treasure.

Well, he died in 1997.

Oh.
That coin.

It's...

That is the coin that was on
Florian's hipster necklace.

Who's that little boy?

Is that Florian?

Was it him that sent you
the text?

No.
It was Toni.

Right.
They should be here soon.

I was just making a sandwich...
cheese, banana, and Marmite.

I know it sounds weird,
but oh, my God.

It's so lush.

Always been a girl that's kind
of into that sweet-savory vibe.

Oh, my God.
Do you want one?

Do you want?
I'll make you one.

If you don't love it,
I'll eat yours too.

Where is it?

- What?
- Lamont's journal.

I, um...

If you don't tell me,
I'll kill you.

As you've probably guessed,
I've done it before.

Oh, God. She's not answering.

Right.
Let's look around the side.

There'll be
some reasonable explanation.

Oh, Bill, where are you?

We need backup at the agency.
Hurry up!

It... It was in the drawer.

Hang on. No. She must have...
She must have moved it.

Um... I remember now.

Listen.

- This is your last chance.
- Okay.

It's behind the fish tank.

I really don't like liars.

Just give him the journal!

It's really not worth
anyone else dying for.

Oh!

You're the boy
in the photograph, aren't you?

Frank Dover...
He was your father, wasn't he?

You have been doing
your homework.

We don't have enough time.

Father would be so proud
of me today.

You think so?!

Killing all those
innocent people?

Don't get me wrong.
I hated the man.

His obsession ruined our life,
especially my mother.

When he died, it was her idea
to change our name.

How did you find it?

Just... by chance,
in the secret passage.

I knew it was at Ivy Hall.

That's why I had to get rid
of Olivia.

I knew she'd never leave
the place voluntarily,

so I started my campaign
of terror.

Oh.

I thought I could scare
the old bitch out of there.

She didn't scare
too easily, did she?

Well, I borrowed Harry's uniform
as a disguise.

He's estranged from his mother,
the sole inheritor.

I knew he'd be
the prime suspect.

How did you do it?
Hmm?

I broke her neck with the butt
of Lamont's musket.

Ooh.

The irony appealed to me.

I positioned her
underneath the balcony.

I thought the local plod
would write it off as a fall,

but then you came along.

So what about Robin Barley?

She'd come across
some new research,

evidence in a journal
of a riddle.

So you decided
to discredit Percy

so you could get your hands
on it first.

It wasn't hard.

Then she found the photograph,
made the connection,

threatened to reveal
my obsession with Lamont

to the police.

So you decided to kill her
with her own cyanide?

And that's where
it should have ended.

But Barry Briar,
he was onto you, wasn't he?

He was an ally at first...
for a price.

Told me about
your investigation.

That's when I vandalized
your car as a warning.

But Barry was greedy.

He saw my car
parked close to Ivy Hall

the night of Olivia's murder.

Yeah. He just wanted to
blackmail you, didn't he?

I knew he had a big mouth,
couldn't stay quiet for long.

So basically you killed
three people

for a treasure
that might not even exist.

Soon to be six.

The game is uppeth!

Unhand the damsel,
thou foul villain.

Go ahead.
Shoot.

Oh, God.

James.

I had only just got that fixed!

But thank you.

Really.

Thank you.

Stand!

To your right hands face!

Order your arms!

Pike!

Recover half!

Mistress Boggle,
keep it uppeth, I prithee.

I'm doing me blithering besteth.

Oh, Wilkes, leave her alone.

Give fire!

Give fire!

Aah!

My lady.

Oh, James.

Did you really have to come
dressed as Cromwell?

- Poor show.
- I did win the war, Charles.

Whereas you took
the coward's way out

and legged it back to France.

I made a strategic retreat,

and when I returned,
I had your body exhumed,

hung, and beheaded three years
after you died of septicemia.

I'd say you were definitely
the biggest loser there.

We're moving into the hall.
Harry too.

Harry and I can live the life
our mother always denied us,

thanks to you.

Agatha!

Don't trust her, Aggie.

This girl is a con artist.

She broke into the plan room
and...

Oh.

I might have known
you'd be behind this.

Sorry, Charlie.

You are pardoned.

You do look lush in that wig,
though.

Oh.
Don't encourage him.

Phone hasn't stopped ringing.

You're gonna have more work
than you can handle.

Well, I think it may be time for
me to hire a junior detective.

What?
Really?

- You mean me?
- I do.

Welcome on board.

Congratulations.

Agatha's not easy to impress.

Can I get you a glass of mead
to celebrate?

Well, I'm actually more
of a shots girl,

but if you're buying, Billy.

No one's called me that in ages.

Just don't throw up on my shoes.

Agatha, I think I worked it out.

The answer's in the jewels.

"Bloodstones, amethysts,
rubies,

firestones, Indian emeralds,
lapis, diamonds."

"Barfield."

So Florian was wrong.

The treasure was never
at Ivy Hall.

- It was here.
- I think I might know where.

Come on.

"Priceless treasure safe
in the broken heart of one dead

but standing still
on the horizon."

It's in the tree.

It's in the tree.

Well, it's my tree.

Oh. I think I've got it.

I mean, we won't be able to keep
all of it, obviously,

but we'll definitely get a cut.

I quite fancy a new car.

I'd like some of it to go
to Jez's mission in Africa.

Then he might finally be able
to come home.

My orangery is in desperate need
of repair,

and it was found on my land.

- What?
- This... This can't be it.

Oh, they're love letters
from Lady Sarah to Sir Geoffrey.

So his priceless treasure...

Was his love.