Father Brown (2013–…): Season 2, Episode 9 - The Grim Reaper - full transcript

Get up!

What time is it?

Time you did some work.

Lying around like a useless lump!

Sorry, Dad.
I don't feel well.

You think I take the day off
when I feel poorly?

Feeble little runt!

Look at you.
Pathetic!

You're meant to be a man!

But what did I expect?
You take after your mother.

What did you say?



You heard.

You're just like your mother.

I'm nothing like my mother!

-Pathetic, am I? A little runt?
-Get off me!

Why should I?
Now who's the feeble one?

Things are going to change around
here, Dad.

Things are going to change!

Subtitles by Red Bee Media Ltd
Sync: Marocas62

Father Brown
Season 2 - Episode 08

"The Grim Reaper"

-Mrs. McCarthy.
-Honestly!

I go away for one week and when
I come back, what do I find?

Chaos!

That is a slight exaggeration.



Has someone done the Mass
lists or the bidding prayers

or written up the weekly collection?

There have been
slips in administration.

Slips? It's a complete landslide!

And who on earth is
responsible for that?

We decided to let
Mrs. Tindall have a turn.

She's been waiting for a very,
very long time.

I am very, very well aware!
Look at that foliage.

It's half-dead!

Who would have thought flower
arranging could be so dangerous?

I think it was the eryngium
that got me.

-What?
-Sea holly?

Well, you take the eye drops
three times a day,

and my wife will make you an
appointment to have the stitches out.

-Are you all right, Mrs. McCarthy?
-Yes, fine.

Well...
I'm still a bit shaken.

Now you know why
I don't have flowers in the surgery.

Although I do have one very
beautiful rose.

So, when would be convenient
for you?

I suppose I could do any
morning except Tuesday.

Nine o'clock, Tuesday.

I said any morning except Tuesday!

Sorry!
Tuesday afternoon?

For heaven's sake!
Am I surrounded by incompetence?

Oona?
Oona?

-I'm sorry.
-No, no. I'm sorry.

-What's the matter?
-It's nothing.

No, it's not nothing.

Just look at the state you're in.

It's just...

..I think I'm going to have a baby.

Come on! Come on!
Move!

Must stop smoking.

Traditionally, Sid,
shouldn't you be inside the car?

That's very funny.

I've been saying to Lady F we should
get this serviced for weeks.

Does she listen?

Mind you,

only 200 yards to the garage.

-I will share your load.
-Would ya?

Right, I'll steer.
Right, you ready?

One, two...
What?

That was Alfred.
You know, Farmer Tatton's son?

Well, if he carries on riding like
that, he won't be for much longer.

What did he say?

I haven't told him.

Why on earth not?
He's a doctor, for heaven's sake!

It's just...

Last year, I lost a baby.

And afterwards, the doctors said
I could never have another.

Adam was sad,
so perhaps it was a blessing.

He's too old for a family.

Oh, he may have said that,

but I've known him since before you
were... Well, for a very long time.

And he is the kindest of men.

I'm sure he'll be
thrilled at your news.

I've tried to tell him,
but recently,

he just seems so distracted.

He's a very busy man.

I know,

but please,

don't tell anyone
till I know for sure.

I am the soul of discretion.

Though I may have to start knitting!

-Excuse me!
-You're excused.

-What do you want?
-Isn't it obvious, Oona?

Alfred wanted to see you.

Right, well,
you'd better come through.

So, what seems to be the trouble?

Well,
I need some painkillers.

And where's the pain this time?

It's the headaches.
They're all the time now,

like someone's banging
a hammer on my skull.

Look, Alfred.

I do have to be careful about
how many of these I prescribe.

I'm in agony here.

I think we both know what you could
do to reduce the headaches.

Give it to me!

All I'm saying is that certain
actions

have inevitable consequences.

What, like if you marry
a woman half your age,

then she'll run off
with somebody else?

Let's just stick to your health
problems, shall we?

Don't bother. I reckon you've got
enough problems of your own.

Alfred!
Alfred, wait!

I don't know how you put up with
that old fool.

You want to spend some time
with a real man.

-Come see me at the barn.
-Not today. Not tomorrow.

Never!

I'll see you later.

-Adam?
-That boy gets more

like his father
every day.

Do you fancy some lunch?

No. I've
got some errands to do.

Now, about these annual reports...

Don't say it.

Say what, Mrs. M?

That I...
That I look like Lord Nelson.

I was going say Long John Silver.

Pay no attention.

I'm sure Dr. Crawford

did an excellent job
with your stitches.

He did.

Do you know, he spent ten minutes
looking for the right shade

of thread to match my eyebrows?

How very meticulous.

And then I bumped into Alfred Tatton
at the surgery.

He is turning into a very
unpleasant young man.

He does seem to be
a lost soul.

You lost something, Mrs. M?

Oh, I left my eye drops at the
surgery. Well, it'll have to wait.

Now, about these annual reports,

which you have done no
work on whatsoever.

Yes, well, that sounds
like a marvellous idea,

but I did promise to speak to
Mr. Sims about the Bishop's visit.

What?

And I could pick your eye drops
up on the way over.

-It's a good idea.
-But...

I think we need...

-You were a while.
-I ran into Mrs. Gillespie.

You know what a chatterbox she is.

Are we going for lunch?

Ah, well, Mrs. McCarthy forgot
her eye drops,

but before that, I'd better give
Alfred his prescription.

Right.

I'll be as quick as I can.

I tell you what.

Why don't we take a
picnic up to Tawny Lake?

-Father!
-Oona!

I'm looking for eye drops.

I think Mrs. McCarthy may have
mislaid them.

Oh, my husband's just
gone off with them.

-Really? Where to?
-Tatton Farm.

Well, it's not too far.
Try and catch him.

And I can have a word with
young Alfred.

Everything all right?

Yes.
Yes, I'm fine.

Everything's fine.

Mind my bike!

Alfred?

No! No!

Father Brown.
Everything all right?

No.
Everything is not all right.

That'll do for now.
Thank you, Doctor.

I don't know how this could
have happened.

What a terrible accident.

Yes.
It must have been.

These machines are so unreliable.

I'm sure there'll be a full
investigation.

He was such a good boy, you know.

Couldn't do enough for me.

Maybe God took him
because he was short of angels.

-Inspector?
-Father Brown.

Isn't it interesting?

Whenever there's a suspicious death,
you're never far away.

Does the Grim Reaper give you
advance warning?

-I don't want to step on your toes.
-Obviously.

But why do you consider this
death suspicious?

Several reasons.
One of which, Alfred fell backwards.

But if he'd been loading the machine,
he would have been facing forwards.

It's difficult to believe that
an experienced operator

would suddenly fall in,

whereas it's very easy
indeed for him to be pushed.

So what brought you to Tatton Farm?

I wanted to catch Dr. Crawford,

but his wife said he'd
already left for Tatton Farm,

-so I came after him.
-Interesting.

-What is?
-You both made the same journey,

but you went by bicycle
and the doctor came by car.

So how did you manage to
get here first?

Just double check all of that.

Thank you for your time.
We'll be in touch.

And if you ever need to talk,

the door of St Mary's
is always open.

-Thank you, Father.
-Because I was a surprised

when you described
your son as an angel.

I know, in the past, you said that
living with him was a trial.

We had our ups and downs,
but he were a good boy.

I prefer to concentrate
on the happy memories.

What was your last memory of Alfred?

What?

When did you last see him?

I need to lie down, Father.
Good day to you.

It's awful.

What do they think happened?

-It was an accident.
-Of course.

He fell.
It would have been very quick.

I mean, I don't think he suffered.

Er... There's just one thing
I must do.

Adam, there's just something I've
been meaning to tell you.

What?

Dr. Crawford.

Can we have a word?

So, you went straight
from the surgery to the barn?

That's right. I parked round
the corner in Lovage Lane.

These country roads play havoc
with your suspension.

I'd say that's a two-minute journey.

And yet, you're unaccounted for,
for nearly ten.

Well, I may have stopped
somewhere along the way.

-Really?
-Actually, yes.

I think I did stop to
admire the lavender.

-Is that so?
-It's rather magnificent this time of year.

What time was this exactly?

Well...

Quarter past, 12.20.
Does it matter?

I'd say it does matter.

John Tatton has just
lost his only son.

Yes. Yes, he's had such a terrible
run of tragedies.

He must constantly be asking
himself, why me?

You know,
if I had to name anyone,

-I'd go for John Tatton.
-Would you?

Such a cruel man!

He never seemed able to look his son
straight in the eye.

Bit late for the post,
isn't it, Mrs. M?

There's no name on it.

"Alfred Tatton was
killed by Dr. Crawford."

No!

Who could have written such a thing?

Who indeed?

Inspector, did you want to see me?

Always a pleasure, Father,
but no, I'm here for the funeral.

Have you seen these?

Several dozen letters,
sent all over town.

We're looking into who sent them

and the possibility
that it could be true.

Sid?
Sid?

I want you to try every
typewriter in Kembleford.

The library, village shop, school.

Even the one Mrs. McCarthy uses.

And see if you can
find a match for this.

Why do I get all the boring jobs?

Because it is vital
that we find the author.

They're called poison pen
letters for a reason.

Mr. Tatton...
My condolences.

You're very kind,
Mrs. McCarthy,

but the best thing in my life
has been taken away from me.

Of course.
If you'll excuse me.

Oona!

Don't you know its bad luck to come
to a funeral in your condition?

I don't want anyone to know.

You still haven't told?

It just never seems the right time.

And now these awful letters!

Oh, you shouldn't pay a blind
bit of notice to them.

Nobody else has.

-In nomine Patris, et Filii, et Spiritus Sancti.
-And where is your husband?

-I don't know.
-Amen.

-I'm so, so very sorry.
-You're drunk!

Drunk? Of course I'm not drunk!

Showing up at my son's funeral
in that state! It's disrespectful!

Well, your son was hardly the most
respectful of people.

How dare you!

-You seen this?
-What is it?

I think you know.
It's true, isn't it?

It was you!
You're a murderer!

It should be you in that grave!

-Stand back!
-Calm down, please.

You're just going to let him get
away with it?

We are investigating
your son's death,

but would ask you to be patient.

It's all right.
Don't make a fuss!

Why is everybody staring at me?

I'm sorry, Father,

but I had to come here in case
I did something I'd regret.

You made...

a very serious public
allegation.

I don't regret one word of it.

What makes you so sure that
Dr. Crawford killed your son?

You remember how my Eileen died?

A road accident.

Eileen used to drink

till she could hardly put one
foot in front of another.

One day, she went to see
Dr. Crawford...

..drunk out of her mind.

He gave her a prescription for a
headache and sent her on her way.

She walked straight into a lorry.

I'm sure if he could have foretold
the future,

he would have stopped her.

He sent my Eileen to her death
and now he's killed my boy.

I'm sure of it!

Did you send those letters, John?

No, but I'd like to shake
the hand of whoever did.

I can't prove he did it,
but I know he had the motive.

Really?

Oona was having an affair with
Alfred, you know.

He often used to boast about it.

What's wrong with you?
I've never seen you drink before.

Maybe it's time I started. What?

Seeing Alfred, a young man,

suddenly taken,
it makes you think.

Maybe it's time we started living.

But you were drunk at a funeral,
Adam!

Yes, and in a few hours,
I'll be sober,

whereas Alfred... Alfred will...
Poor Alfred!

I'm sorry.

It's these letters, isn't it?

I just need to lie down for a while.

-Yesterday, you were going to tell me
something.
-What?

No. No, it's nothing.
Go and lie down.

Oona.

I'm sorry. My husband can't see
anyone at the moment.

Indeed,
he did seem somewhat overwrought.

He does get upset
whenever a patient dies.

Yes, of course.

And you?
Were you upset?

-What do you mean?
-Well,

were you close to
Alfred Tatton?

No. I saw him when he
came to the surgery,

but that's it.

Corona Standard.

Yes, it's my husband's.

Why don't you type a notice

to say that afternoon
surgery is cancelled?

No! He just needed a few
minutes' rest.

I'm sure he's better now.

Then I'll pop in and see him.

Just a minute.

Yes?

Father Brown!

What on earth?

Yes, I'm feeling much
better, thank you.

There's been a lot of talk
about your behaviour today.

My behaviour?

All I was trying to do
was pay my condolences.

Yet you told John Tatton
you were sorry.

What exactly are you sorry about?

I'm sorry that I didn't get
to his son sooner...

..that I paused along the way,
I'm sorry that I can't bring

people back from the dead.

Sorry.
Things just keep going wrong.

Have any idea who wrote this letter?

Some very troubled individual.
I won't let it bother me.

That's the spirit.

Didn't know you were an astronomer.

It's just...
Just something I dabble in.

Yes, everyone should have a hobby.

Was there anything else?

No.

I'm so sorry,
but they wanted to speak with you.

What's this about?

We can tell you at the station
if you'd like to come this way.

-Inspector...
-And you can stay right where you are.

I have brought your laundry.
A clean cassock.

Yes.

And I've sorted out the mess you
left the accounts in.

No.

Oh, they asked if you'd like to be
the next Pope.

Yes.

I'm sorry, what were you saying?

Nothing important.
What's that?

It was written on the typewriter
that lives on Oona's desk.

The same typewriter that wrote
the poison pen letters.

How do you know?

Look at the O.

Yes?

Every single one blocked in.

But that means...
Do you think that...

Right, well, I have tried
every typewriter in town.

Not one of them matches.

I think that deserves a cup of tea.

Or something stronger.

I'm afraid we've discovered
something unpleasant.

The letters were written by Oona.

Oona?

Hello?

Sid's shepherd's crook.

Father Brown?

What have you got there?

Adam's star charts.

Your husband said I could
borrow them.

I thought lying was a sin, Father.

Yes, it is.

And you haven't been

honest about your relationship

with Alfred Tatton.

Of course Alfred used to chase Oona.
It was embarrassing!

He seemed to be obsessed with her.

And how did she feel about him?

He repulsed me.

Did you ever see him
outside of the surgery?

-Oona?
-All right!

I did go to the
barn on the day that he died,

but only to tell him
to leave me alone,

once and for all.

Why did you wait
so long to talk about this?

Because I knew it would look
suspicious.

And it does.

But what is even more
suspicious is this.

I've no idea who wrote the letter.

A patient with a grudge?

I think this was written by someone
who knows you very well.

Who wrote the letter?

It wasn't me.

It was written on your typewriter.

I could never write such a thing.

The police will believe otherwise.

I can't write English.

What?

All my education was in Gaelic.

I can't read or write
English at all.

You see, despite your lies,
someone out there knows the truth.

I'm telling you the truth.
I didn't kill him!

Though you admit
he had designs on your wife.

Yes, he had excellent taste!

And you knew you were
going to lose her.

Don't be ridiculous!

Still, you and Oona had 18
months together.

-Not a bad innings.
-Inspector, just stop this.

Because how could you ever compete
with such a young man?

Just stop it,
whatever you're suggesting!

One so much more virile!

Just shut up!
Just shut up about Alfred Tatton!

All right.
It was me.

What?

I did it.
I killed him.

I cannot believe
I was fooled by that woman!

Well, if that's Ursa Major...

This eye patch must have made me
blind!

-..then that should be...
-Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

What if it isn't Dr. Crawford's?

-What if it's...
-The pole star!

Are you listening to me?

Mrs. McCarthy, don't move.

-What?
-Stand perfectly still.

Are you all right, Father?

Yes, unlike the poor soul who
will have made these drawings.

-Father, I need to...
-Ah, Sid!

You're here to tell me

that Dr. Crawford has been
charged with murder.

-Well, yeah, that's right.
-And indeed he's confessed.

Well, yeah, he has.
How do you know?

Because it's written in the stars.

Father Brown,

I do hope you're
here for religious purposes,

and not to meddle.

I don't know what you mean.

Perhaps you should think about
leaving things to the professionals

-from now on.
-Never forget,

the professionals
built the Titanic.

But an amateur built the Ark.

-Hello, Adam.
-Hello, Father.

Thank you for coming.

I hear you've confessed.

I knew Alfred had
designs on Oona,

so I followed him to the barn
and told him to leave her alone.

And he laughed at me.

Said I was a clapped-out
old has-been,

who could never please
her the way he could.

So I climbed the ladder
and I threw him into the metal jaws.

I'd like to say it was
a moment of madness

but I think I went there intending to
do it.

Well, thank you.

What for?

The story.

And when you're released
without charge,

you may think about taking up
a new career writing pulp fiction.

You wrote those poison pen letters,
didn't you?

But why would you write something

that could lead to
the hangman's noose?

I think the answer
lies in these charts.

They're not stars, are they?

They're marks.

Maybe moles on a human's body.

Perhaps a patient?

But not just any old patient.

Someone whom you observe
every day.

They are a self-portrait...
of your body.

If anyone could see through me
I might have known it would be you.

Is there something you want
to confess?

Bless me Father for I have sinned.

It has been three weeks
since my last confession.

And they've been busy weeks.

What are those marks?

Tumours on the skin.

The first sign of a virulent
form of cancer.

I've only got a few months left.

-So sorry.
-Well, it's not your fault.

When I found out, my first thought
was to take my own life.

But suicide is a mortal sin.

And then came that day in the barn.

I'd gone to give
Alfred his prescription,

and he was blind drunk,
as usual.

As I entered,
he turned to see who it was

and he lost his balance.

There was nothing
I could do to save him.

I see.

There was a whisky bottle on
the floor

and I knew that John had lost his
wife to alcohol

and I thought it
might break his heart

if his son went the same way.

So I picked it up
and took it to my car.

And then when I came
back you were there.

Father Brown!
Everything all right?

I can see how you would want to
protect his reputation.

But why frame yourself for a murder
that was never committed?

Because I've only got a few
months left to live

and a hangman's noose is a less
painful end.

And I'll be saving Oona
the trouble of nursing me

and the pain of watching me
rot away.

And John.
Poor John.

It must be the worst thing in
the world to lose your only child.

But he might gain some comfort
from believing that it was a crime,

not some random act of God
and that the murderer had been punished.

As I walked towards you that day,

with that machine in the background,
I thought...

I can't save Alfred.

But I can help the people
left behind.

'Before making a quick,
painless,

if rather theatrical exit myself.

So, it was almost therapeutic
writing those letters.

Knowing they would start a rumour.

Which would lead in a few weeks
to a guilty verdict.

This is simply
suicide by another name.

It will bring no peace to John.

It will break Oona's heart.

And it will horrify anyone who
has ever known you.

No, you're wrong.

They'll be happy to see me hanged

because they'll think I'm guilty.

Besides, it's too late.

Public opinion is against me

and it's my first court
appearance next week.

When they ask me how I plead and I
say that one word.

-It's only a matter of time.
-It is not too late.

But it's been good to have
someone to confide in.

And it's nice to know that thanks
to the seal of the confessional

nothing I've said can go beyond these walls.

Feeble little runt!

You're just like your mother!

Things are going to
change around here, Dad.

John!

John!

Things are going to change!

Father.

Did you know Dr. Crawford's
appearing in court?

-When?
-This afternoon.

Right.

Well, he'll soon get what
he deserves.

And I can look him in the eye

as the noose goes round his neck.

And I can say, "This is for Alfred."

And when you've done that,
will you feel less guilty?

It was me, Father.

I killed him.

Not with my own hands,
but I drove him to it.

How?

Three years ago, with Eileen.

I didn't do enough for her,
when she was in the gutter.

Someone said she ran in front of
that lorry.

And I knew Alfred drank,
the way she did,

which was why I was so hard on him.

I wanted him to knuckle down.

But what if I drove him to this?

Was he having an affair with Oona?

I don't know.

Perhaps it was just
a teenage boy bragging.

But you needed someone to blame?

I don't really think
Dr. Crawford did it, Father.

Why would he?

If you truly believe that...

you should come to the court.

Please.

Please God,
whatever happens to me,

will you keep my child safe?

And help me to understand
why my husband did this.

Father?

I've just been talking to Mr. Tatton.

He's decided to come to
court with me.

-Right.
-I wish that you would do the same.

Just to say goodbye.

To a man you promised to love,

to honour...

Father Brown?
I'm sorry.

I got a bit close to
the threshing machine.

It's this chaff...

-Chaff?
-Yes,

I got some in my cassock
last week.

It seems to get everywhere.

But I do my husband's laundry

and his suit was
completely spotless.

-Was it?
-Yes, it was!

A general practitioner is to
appear in court today,

charged with the murder of one
of his patients.

Dr. Adam Crawford of Kembleford,
Gloucestershire,

is said to have deliberately pushed
19-year-old Alfred Tatton to his death.

Adam,
why are you doing this?

We know you didn't kill Alfred.

-I know he drank.
-Are you trying to punish me?

-Because I've done nothing wrong.
-Just go, Oona.

I can't.

Everyone thinks
I was with Alfred

and that's why you killed him.

-People spit at me in the street.
-I did a terrible thing.

-And now I have to pay for it.
-No, you don't.

You're lying
and you're destroying my life.

Why?

You have to forget me.
You have to leave Kembleford.

You can start again.

With a child who'll never know
their father?

-What?
-I'm going to have your baby.

Adam.
I love you!

Are you Adam Henry Crawford

of Kembleford in Gloucestershire?

-I am.
-Adam Henry Crawford...

..you are accused of the wilful
murder of Alfred Tatton.

How do you plead?

Not guilty.

-I've come to see my husband.
-Take her through.

You'll get into serious
trouble one day.

Interfering in police business.

I don't believe this was
police business.

This was a terrible accident,

where, for whatever reason, someone
decided to take the blame.

Perhaps on this occasion,
you might be right.

Indeed.

And perhaps some things
are too important

to be left to the
professionals.

How could you tell such
a terrible lie?

For a long time now,
I've not been very well, and...

I couldn't bare
the thought of you seeing me suffer.

So I thought this would be
the easy way out.

Is it serious?

You will get better?

I don't know.

But doctors said you could
never have children,

so what do they know?

Is there anything we can do?

I can find out. I'm not giving up.

What are we going to call this baby?

Well...

do you want a boy or a girl?

I want a girl.
I want a girl just like you.

I think we should call her Hope.

Mrs. McCarthy!
Turned your back on piracy, I see.

Are you...
knitting?

No.

Well, yes, obviously,
but for no particular reason.

You knew Oona was expecting,
didn't you?

All right, but I was sworn to
secrecy.

Even though it would have been quite
useful for me to know.

Talk of the devil.

How are you, Oona?

I'm great, thanks, Father Brown.

How's Adam?

He's fine, he's...
looking forward to the future.

That's very good to hear.

Of course, I never suspected
either of you of anything.

Course not.

And I hope you will accept
this little garment

as a token of our ongoing
friendship.

Thank you.

That's very impressive knitwear,
Mrs. McCarthy.

But I think I read that
women of Breganmore

have much more chance
of producing twins.

Old wives' tales.

No, it's true.
Sure, I'm one of triplets myself.

Indeed.

I'll have to get some more wool,
then!

Yes, I think you will.

Happy knitting.

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